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From: Robert Kraft <rkraft99@yahoo.com>
Subject: Right Turn on Black by Robert Kraft - Chapter 1 Peeping Rob - Part 1 of 2
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WARNING: These stories contain graphic language, sexual actions
between M/F and F/F, as well as violence, illegal substance abuse,
immorality, and illegal activity.  If any of the above offend you,
please do not read this story.  All stories are copyright.

These stories are two parts fact, one part fiction.  Some names and
places have been changed, and a few events are slightly embellished or
different (usually cause I don't remember exact words spoken), but
everything is pretty close to a real situation.  If you recognize
yourself in this story though, it probably isn't you!
	
	
Please forward comments/requests to:  RKraft99@yahoo.com


Right Turn on Black by Robert Kraft
Chapter 1: Peeping Rob - Part 1 (of 2)

	My life as a youngster was quite pleasant, actually.  I had a very
European upbringing.  My dad was Spanish, and my mom of French
parents, but born in Spain.  We spoke Spanish at home, and my parents
had very much carried over the traditions from France and Spain that
were part of their families.
	My dad was an extremist, and perfectionist.  Perhaps even obsessive. 
Some of that rubbed off on me, I guess.  He expected the best.  Good
try was not good enough unless your good try was a winner.  "Good
effort" was not part of his vocabulary.
	As a result, I was forced to learn and play and do everything to the
hilt.  My natural tendency, however, is very laid back, and that was,
and is, the greatest driving conflict within me.  Perhaps in recent
years, being away from him, I was able to establish a balance between
the two.  Between birth and now, however, I went through both ends of
the spectrum of my personality.  
	Early on, I was exacting, a hard worker, always learning, creating,
trying to impress.  I was intense.  The introduction of drugs and sex
late in high school created a sudden and dramatic change in me, and I
became lazy, laid-back, and fucked up.  Eventually, the trials and
experiences of those years forced me back into the middle of the road.
 You can only drive off-road for so long, you know, before you bust a
gear.
	Throughout, one thing has remained constant.  I always was a
listener.  Meaning I listened rather than talked.  I found that I
could gain more that way.  Even now I am generally a quiet person, as
it were.  It was only during my heyday in high school and college that
I was quite a bit more open.  
	My dad's main ambitions in life were to eat well, drink well, and
enjoy the life.  Obviously money helps those oh-so-lofty goals, and he
had enough, since he owned a graphic design firm in the city. He had
scored some good contracts and was very well off.  He still worked
when I was born, but less every year; he was thirty-two when I was
born.  And I was the oldest; a younger brother, Philip, followed five
years later.
	I was brought up learning about fine wine, and gourmet food, music,
opera, and all the baggage that comes with the high life.  I can't say
it wasn't good.  Unfortunately much egoism and one-upmanship
accompanies that lifestyle.  I never felt comfortable when I was used
so my dad could show me off to his friends.
	But I digress.  A picture of me: physically, I have always been very
thin.  Sometimes too thin, perhaps.  Tall, now, about 6 feet, making
me look even more stick-like.  My dark hair came from my dad and my
olive skin from Italian grandparents on both sides of the family.  The
most fascinating part of me, according to everyone I meet, is my eyes.
 They are light green with a hint of blue on the outside, turning
hazel towards the center, with flecks of purple-blue hues in the
hazel.  Some people have even commented that they seem to change
slowly in the sun from green to blue, and back.  I tried to see if
that was true once, but I could not see anything changing.  Maybe they
were daydreaming.
Everyone has different opinions on beauty, so I can't fairly say I am
handsome or not.  I am of average proportions, and sharp cut face,
probably due to my thinness, so at least you can get an idea of what I
look like.  Enough on me already.
My first direct experience with graphic sex was on television.  My dad
subscribed to the Playboy channel for many years when I was younger.
The cable box it fed was locked with a padlock on the back, which the
removal of would allow access to a switch enabling the encrypted
channel; it was a parental control switch.  Although I occasionally
wondered what it was for, a sexual connection never entered my young
head.
It was only when Luke, my best friend from childhood, was over and
told me what he suspected, was I really interested in mounting a
search for the key.  It was summer, before eighth grade for me; Luke
was a year older than I was.
"Hey, Rob.  You know Tommy?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"I was at his house the other day, and he showed me the Playboy
Channel."
"Whoa, how'd he do that?"
"He had a key for his cable box."
"Hey, my dad has one of those also."
"No shit!  He probably gets it too."
"My dad!?  I don't know about that."
"Where's the key?"
"I don't know."
"You gotta find it," he stressed.
"I don't know.  It could be anywhere."
"Maybe.  Let's just look around."
We started a search.  About five minutes revealed nothing, until Luke
reached up onto the top of a bookshelf, and proudly held up a small
silver key.
"Damn, you think that's it?" I asked, starting to get nervous.
"Gotta be."  He was already inserting it into the lock.
"There it is," he said, opening the lock triumphantly.  "Quick, turn
on the TV."
"My mom's upstairs though."
"Let's just take a look."
I turned on the tube, and lowered the volume.  What the hell were we
doing, I thought.  I heard my mom active in the kitchen, just up the
steps from our TV.
"O.K.  What channel?"
"Try 29, that's what it was at Tommy's."  There was just static on 29.
"Lemme look in the TV Guide.  There's probably a listing."
My mom came downstairs.  We quickly changed channels while she grabbed
a cookbook off the shelf right under where the key was.  We had left
the lock and key right on top of the cable box.  One look there from
my mom would ruin me, I thought.  Fortunately, she left without
incident.
"O.K.  That was too close," I said.
"Try channel 43."  Channel 43 had static.
"Maybe we don't have it," I said, a bit relieved, but also disappointed.
"Maybe.  Wait..."  He flipped through the guide.  "Maybe it's not on
right now.  It's only three."
"You think it comes on at night?"
"Probably.  Yeah.  Here... The guide has times for the channel
starting at 8.  There's nothing before that.  Like at eight tonight
there's some movie, 'Sexual Fantasy Part Four.'"
Curiosity took over from fear.
"Aren't you're parents coming over for dinner tonight?"
"Yeah.  Maybe we can check it out."
That night, we waited until it was safe to leave the table without
suspicion.  We quickly unlocked the latch, flipped the switch, and
locked it up again, replacing the key.  Everything would look normal. 
We sat, and flipped to channel 43.
There it was.  What was it?  Some tits, or maybe a butt.  It was a
close-up shot.  The camera panned out.  They were breasts, indeed.
"Shit.  This is cool," I said.
"Yeah."
The camera panned out to show a big breasted blonde lady riding some
stud.  I got my first view of people having sex.  Even though it
wasn't hard core porn, there was enough to see at my age.
Suddenly my dad was in the room.  Fortunately the TV faced away from
the steps leading down from the hallway upstairs, and I had an instant
to change the channel to... C-SPAN (what a terrible choice) before he
rounded the bend.
"What are you watching?" he asked, nonchalantly.
"Just flippin' channels," I answered, just as nonchalant.
"Your brother is wanting to come downstairs.  Why don't you play with
him here or something."
"O.K. I guess."
"Philip!" he yelled up.  
My brother came down.  Luke and I waited impatiently for Philip to
decide to leave.  He was about 8 years old.
Eventually, our hormones got the better of us and we flipped back to
the channel.  Philip looked up, and started to stare.  I flipped away.
 I promised him 20 bucks if he wouldn't tell what he saw.  He was all
for it.  Twenty bucks was a lot of money at 8 years old.  We were
terrible, corrupting my brother at such a young age.  
	So it was that we were all three watching the sex.  I was getting a
hard on and hid it with my arm.  Philip was all eyes, but probably did
not understand what was going on.  Luke was leaning forward in his
chair.  Eventually Philip went upstairs, perhaps nervous that we would
be caught.  The scene switched and the same lady was being fucked from
behind by a different guy.
"Hey, that's a different guy," I said.
"Yeah, they fuck everyone."
	That was news to me, that people had sex with multiple people.
We watched greedily.  The lady flipped around and the guy mounted her
missionary style, and started to pump away.
"This music sucks," said Luke.
"Who cares about the music."
The guy pulled out, and the lady got up and buried her face in the
man's crotch.
"Is she licking his dick?" I asked.
"Yeah.  Too bad they don't show anything."
"This ain't bad, though."
"I guess.  Real porn movies show all the stuff, like the guys dick
going into her pussy and shit like that."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"Tommy said he has one."
"Have you seen it?"
"No.  He said next time his parents are out he'll show it to me."
"Cool."
The scene abruptly ended and cut to some dialogue.
"Ahem."
We heard a cough, looked up, and there stood death.  Actually, just my
dad.  He came over, and before I could make a change to the current
selection, he sat on the couch.  He glanced knowingly at the channel
number.  I felt like being swallowed by the cushion.  Fortunately it
was just dialogue.  Maybe he didn't know yet.  I flipped a channel,
trying to act cool.  Luke was stone-faced.
"What are you watching, Rob?" he asked.
"Just flipping."
"Just flipping, eh?"
"Yeah."
"Why don't you put the lock back on, and we'll let this go?"
"O.K." I said, looking straight at the TV.
He got up and left.
We quickly restored the TV to its locked mode, and it was a while
before I ventured into the Playboy channel again.  Once was enough. 
It awakened a sexual monster in me.  I was and am always horny.  That
was the beginning of my interest in girls, in that way.  School took
on a new meaning.

END OF PART 1 - Look for Part 2 separately

Copyright 1998 by Robert Kraft



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