I'm older and wiser now, born in the still middle class town of Elizabeth, New Jersey. Sounds a bit dull and dreary? Maybe a little; when I was a small kid... but it meant that I was seventeen two thousand - the year that everything was supposed to come to an end.

My dad told me when I was fifteen that every working class soldier who went away to fight in the war had lived a bitter life thereafter, because they had come back to a land that wasn't a place of equal opportunity. They had risked their lives so that they could return to a life ruled by an upper class mostly ruined through inbreeding, their losses in the war and by the rise of a smug middle class who desperately wanted to hang on to the status quo so that they too might enjoy a time when they could lord it over those placed below them on the social ladder.

I was eighteen and was going to be the first person in our family's history to attend further education - university. They were still the domain of rich people, but a lot more middle calss and poor people were now striving for higher education, aided by a government reluctant to do so.

This story is about what happened one Christmas when my folks had to travel to Alabama. An uncle of my mom had passed away at the age of one hundred and six.

My dad's friend had got me a job five days a week working on a bread delivery van. Doesn't sound like much, eh? Bread rounds are always booming; people eat a lot of bread. Especially in the winter time. The money was going to be very good. I'd already save a cool thousand for the 2000 year model Nissan Maxima I wanted to get. It was all part of a plan. Part one was get the car by next spring; part two was, therefore, spend the rest of my life scraping the women off me. I was eighteen and horny.

I could think back to when I got a taste of the skins. It was at Joe's party - my friend from school - during the Easter break. His folks were well off and we'd all set up tents in the orchard at the end of their garden. I got so drunk I don't remember anything after ten thirty, but I woke up in the morning in this bird's sleeping bag. I couldn't even remember her name and as soon as she realized that, she kicked me out. Later, back at school, she claimed that we had spent an hour screwing each other's brains out. If it happened I don't remember anything about it, and so I still live with the "memory" of screwing this cutie.

Anyway, it was the second day on the job and Jerrold was paying me cash daily so that I could buy myself the ride. So I had cash in my pocket - sixty bucks a day - but he was only telling my dad he was paying me forty a day entirely to myself. The reason for the cash was that, I made money and he saved money by paying me off the books.

Jerrold picked bread from the bakery and from round the back of the factory next door. The owners of the bakery had no idea of what was made; wastage limits were set at extreme levels of efficiency and that left a lot that wasn't wastage but wasn't on the production sheets. Half of our van was filled with goods that had no overhead costs and, with a little cash lubricating every stage, half of our takings were pure profit and half of our customers weren't on the records either.

We were at the second to last drop off on the round when Jerrold told me to watch the van as he'd got something to do. Twenty-five minutes later and he still wasn't back, and I was so desperate to pee that I felt sure that I was in danger of wetting myself. I seen which house he'd gone to and walked through the little gate and up the front garden path. The door was ajar and as I reached for the knocker the door moved away from my grasp and opened further. I stepped in and was about to call for Jerrold when I heard a noise. It was a sort of grunt and then a moan. There was a scrabbling noise coming from the stairwell - I honestly was worried about what I might find as I rather timidly took the couple of steps necessary to enable me to peep around the inside wall and up the stairs.

Jerrold: tee shirt and shoes still on, trousers and pants around his ankles was the grunter as he tugged roughly at his dick which was splattering gobs and lines of spunk onto the pushed up ass cheeks of... I can't see her face because it's pushed into the tread of the seventh or eighth step with her robe and nighty pushed up her body and only her hair- and its mostly grey- was visible to me.

As I stand jaw-dropped, my bladder is forgotten and my cock pushes up to tent my trousers and jockey shorts. I don't even notice; every measurable amount of my attention was taken up with what I was seeing. Jerrold takes the dregs of his come by using his finger and thumb to wipe it from the swollen angry looking red end of his cock, he gathers more of it from her ass cheeks in a sweeping move, and into the crease of her ass and then his thumb to push it right in. I heard her moan deeply as he leant forward and pushed his still hard cock into her shitter. Jerrold held her butt cheeks apart and pushed unwaveringly until his pubes were rubbing against her skin. The third time he shoved his dick back into her she started to moan louder, then I heard her voice between the moans.

"Fuck my ass, Jerrold... fuck it good... oooh yes Jerrold."

For the first time I noticed that her elbows were bent so that she can twist and pull at her own nipples. My dick exploded in an orgasm strong enough to make my knees buckle. I staggered backwards until I was outside again. For some reason I pull the door, it almost slams and I nearly die before I stop it just in time. I leave it open an inch and stand outside on the path bending forward slightly clutching my still spurting cock. I notice that there's a door further round the house by the side entrance, and feeling all whirly and faint I stagger to it.

There's a modern bathroom. I drop to the seat and get my breath before pulling down my pants and shorts. It was a mess in there; I'd come about ten times more than I'd ever done previously and my knob was still hard as a lightening rod. I used a tissue from a box above the sink to make a sloppy boyish attempt at dabbing all of the mess from me and my shorts. All I really achieved was to spread it thinner and farther. It takes me a minute to catch my breath and I remember that I had been desperate for a pee; my dick is so erect that the only place I would have hit if I tried peeing from a standing position would have been the wall or maybe even the ceiling. So I turn around to straddle the toilet facing backwards and press down on the upper side of my knob force it down, before I realize quite how uncomfortable it is I start to piss; in a jet speed torrent it bounces back towards me from the back of the bowl before dropping into the water below.

The relief was tempered by the pain which was edged by the state of total turn-on I felt due to the scene I had witnessed just a couple of minutes previously. I still felt hornier than ever before in my life and as it stopped peeing my dick once more returned to a state of standing to full attention was retaken up by what I'd just seen. I thought first about staying there and giving myself a quick hand job, then decided that I was going to take the risk of getting back in there for another look.

I was still adjusting my clothing as I approached the front door again which was pulled open just as I reached for it. I nearly died again.

"I thought I asked you to watch the van?"

"I needed a piss."

"You can get one at the transport cafe, we've got to get a move on, and we're already behind."

Boy, oh boy, did I splatter my bed sheets when I got to bed that night. The next day just as we were starting on our way to the first customer, a little shop just outside the ring road, Jerrold spoke. "I saw you watching yesterday."

I wanted the world to open up underneath me, to swallow me up so that I wouldn't ever have to look back at his face... but it didn't happen. Before I could compose myself and any sort of reply he spoke again.

"Some of our customers are willing to pay me extra if I'm willing to show them a bit of beef every now and then... so you can't be talking about it to anybody. There's an upside to it as well... if you think you might be able to supply a bit of what they're after you could make yourself a few bills extra each week. What do you reckon? Could you get it up enough to fuck a couple of more mature ladies each week?"

"Yes!" came out so fast that I almost sprayed it as well as saying it.

That was Wednesday; by Friday I had two to visit on my bike after I finished at twelve. We bought some condoms - he said that some of the ladies preferred them. A shower, a shave and a quick change into smarter clothes and I was on my way. What a way to start the weekend.