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Anything Goes
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Straight Male / 45
I very clearly remember Malcolm. He was a black boy about thirteen or fourteen years old. When I was very young, not more than five he used to be a fairly regular presence at my home. I remember wondering why he visited so much. He wasn't there to play with me and I was the only child. I asked my mother once and she just told me that my dad payed him for doing odd jobs. After that I just sort of put it out of my mind.
I hadn't thought about Malcolm in close to forty years, until a few weeks ago. My father passed away of diabetes related renal failure in 2005. My mother was diagnosed with cancer not long afterwards. She wasn't given much time, but mom was a fighter and she hung on tenaciously until last Autumn. Following her death my parents home came to me. But I was too busy to clear out their personal effects and get the house ready for sale until just recently.
I found an old Brook's Brothers shoe box in the closet with hundreds of Polaroid photographs inside. I remembered that my dad owned one of the old Polaroid Swinger cameras and he used to shoot tons of photos. I'd already boxed up a dozen albums full of family pics, but these in the shoebox... well, there was a reason my parents didn't want to share these.
In nearly every photo either my mother or father were nude and clearly having sex with the boy Malcolm. I sat on the floor and went through the photos one by one. In one, Malcolm was standing, leaning slightly against the bedroom wall with my mother on her knees in front of him, looking back at the camera laughing. In another she had Malcolm's extraordinarily large penis in her mouth. There were numerous of her letting the boy have sexual intercourse with her, her legs spread wide or her rear end stuck up in the air while she scrunched down on all fours. Even my father got in on the action, sucking the boy's cock or letting Malcolm return the favor. In several shots mom's face was covered in great globs of white cum. In one, my father had the boy bent over a nightstand while he sodomized him. By the time I got to the last photograph I was numb.
This was a side of my parents I'd never known. I finally knew what Malcolm's "odd jobs" entailed. Carefully putting the photos back in the box I went downstairs and started a fire in the fireplace. One the logs were burning hot, I tossed the box in and destroyed it and its contents. If only I could purge from my memory those images I'd seen as easily.
I hadn't thought about Malcolm in close to forty years, until a few weeks ago. My father passed away of diabetes related renal failure in 2005. My mother was diagnosed with cancer not long afterwards. She wasn't given much time, but mom was a fighter and she hung on tenaciously until last Autumn. Following her death my parents home came to me. But I was too busy to clear out their personal effects and get the house ready for sale until just recently.
I found an old Brook's Brothers shoe box in the closet with hundreds of Polaroid photographs inside. I remembered that my dad owned one of the old Polaroid Swinger cameras and he used to shoot tons of photos. I'd already boxed up a dozen albums full of family pics, but these in the shoebox... well, there was a reason my parents didn't want to share these.
In nearly every photo either my mother or father were nude and clearly having sex with the boy Malcolm. I sat on the floor and went through the photos one by one. In one, Malcolm was standing, leaning slightly against the bedroom wall with my mother on her knees in front of him, looking back at the camera laughing. In another she had Malcolm's extraordinarily large penis in her mouth. There were numerous of her letting the boy have sexual intercourse with her, her legs spread wide or her rear end stuck up in the air while she scrunched down on all fours. Even my father got in on the action, sucking the boy's cock or letting Malcolm return the favor. In several shots mom's face was covered in great globs of white cum. In one, my father had the boy bent over a nightstand while he sodomized him. By the time I got to the last photograph I was numb.
This was a side of my parents I'd never known. I finally knew what Malcolm's "odd jobs" entailed. Carefully putting the photos back in the box I went downstairs and started a fire in the fireplace. One the logs were burning hot, I tossed the box in and destroyed it and its contents. If only I could purge from my memory those images I'd seen as easily.
