Breaking and Entering (R)

It was time for the annual Great Aunt Martha birthday celebration and Jerry was trying to talk his parents out of making him go. He had been schlepping the three hours to Maine every October for as long as he could remember and he hated every moment of it.
Great Aunt Martha was a nice lady. She sent him birthday cards with money and extravagant Christmas gifts every year and she promised to underwrite some of his college expenses but attending her annual birthday bash was torture to the nth degree. Jerry was always the youngest person at the gathering, outdistanced by at least fifteen years so he spent most of the weekend listening to his elders telling the same old boring stories over and over again.

He spent nearly a week begging his parents to let him stay home this year.

"I'm almost sixteen years old," he complained. "I'm old enough to be trusted."

"There's been a lot of neighborhood break ins lately," his mother said. "It wouldn't be safe."

"I'll leave all the lights on all night," Jerry offered as he sat at the dinner table with his parents.

"I don't think so, dear," his mother replied.

"I'll push my car around from behind the garage so it's in the driveway," he said. "That way the thieves will know somebody's home."

"That junk is killing all my grass," his father complained as he cut his meat.

"Bouch and are going to get it running real soon, Dad," Jerry promised.

"I bet you I'll have to have that heap towed out when it's all said and done," his father countered.

"Can't I please stay home?" Jerry pleaded. "I promise no parties. Nobody in the house. I just can't take another old people's party."

"We're not that old, sweetie," his mother smiled.

"You know what I mean, Mom," he groaned.

"I'm sorry dear, but not this year."

"Great," Jerry mumbled into his plate.

He sulked and moped for the rest of the week but his parents showed no signs of budging.

"Real mature," his father grumbled when Jerry gave them the silent treatment at the dinner table a few nights later.

Jerry knew he was being a jerk but he couldn't help it. He was nearly sixteen years old. Why did his parents have to treat him like he was twelve?

He went to school on Friday of the Aunt Martha weekend still acting prissy and at the end of the day he dragged himself home knowing he was going to have to climb into the back seat of his father's BMW and make the three hour trek to Maine. Sure enough, his parents were standing in the foyer of their large Hilltop Victorian home with their bags by their feet when Jerry came through the front door.

"Give me a minute, I'll get my bag," he sighed.

"That's okay, dear," his Mother replied as he started for the stairs.

"Huh?" Jerry asked with surprise.

"You don't have to go, Sport," his father announced.

"Really?" Jerry asked hopefully.

"Sure," his mother informed him. "You're a good kid who's demonstrated we can trust you. Your grades are up and you've been doing everything we've asked of you."

"You're old enough now to be given a little bit of freedom of independence," his father agreed.

"But no parties!" His mother warned, holding her hand up.

"Nobody will be over," Jerry assured them.

"Bouch can come over and work on the piece of junk of yours if you want," his father noted with annoyance. "The sooner it's out of here the better."

"I left a couple of casseroles for you in the refrigerator," his mother said.

"There's eighty bucks in the cookie jar," his father added.

"Thanks, guys," Jerry said happily.

"Call us if there are any problems," his mother insisted. "We're on the cell 24/7."

"I will, Mom," Jerry replied.

"Don't do anything stupid," his father said as he picked up the bags and headed out the front door.

"I really appreciate this," Jerry said as he walked after them to the car.

"Yeah, yeah," his father said with a laugh. "I'm sure you do."

Jerry's mother gave him a hug before she climbed into the passenger's seat. "Be good," she told him.

"I will," Jerry promised.

His father finished loading the bags into the trunk of the car and gave his son a wink before getting into the car. Jerry waved as the late model BMW zoomed out of he driveway and he was giddy with relief and excitement as he skipped his way back into the handsome house.

"Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I'm free at last!" Jerry exclaimed happily.

This was the first time he had been left alone in the house for a few days ever. He was happy and grateful for the freedom although he had no interest in inviting anybody over. He just wanted to enjoy his privacy and do all the things he couldn't do when his parents were around. Now he could walk around the house naked if he wanted. Take a leak with the bathroom door open. Fart. Watch crap and the adult channel on television. Surf the net for porn. He was in seventh heaven!

Jerry didn't bother pushing his dead car around from behind the garage to make it look like somebody was home. It had rained recently and the car had sunk into the ground and he couldn't budge it by himself anyway. He also didn't bother turning on the lights as it got dark out either. He didn't want anybody to see him inside. He drew the shades so he could have the porn on the computer screen without being seen.

His parents had originally set up the family computer in the living room to monitor Jerry when he was younger and that system had never changed even as he got older. But now he had free reign of the house! He nuked his mother's macaroni and cheese and ate it in front of the television (a no-no on most days). He watched trash television instead of the constant CSPAN and PBS his parents enjoyed and he walked around in his underwear just because he could. Later, he surfed the web and watched various porno clips on some of the adult sites and nudity clips on Daily Motion (family filter turned off) and You Tube (uncensored).

Jerry discovered he could only watch that stuff for so long, beating off once to a girl he found especially attractive who was doing a striptease in front of her computer cam rolling all over her mattress and fingering herself for the computer audience. But by midnight – after watching a dirty movie on one of the cable channels and stuffing his face with all sorts of junk food – Jerry finally turned in for the night, beating off one more time in his bed while sleeping naked because he could.

Jerry wasn't sure how much time had passed when he was jolted from his sleep by a noise downstairs. He lay in his bed for a long moment, uncertain if he had actually heard something or dreamt it. But sure enough there as another noise – the buffet drawer sliding open perhaps? Jerry struggled to find his glasses in the dark as he slipped out of bed and put on a pair of gym shorts lying on the floor. He grabbed a baseball bat from his closet and tip toed out of his room in the dark.

Jerry made no noise as he moved toward the stairs but his heart was beating frantically. Maybe he should just dial 911 and be done with it but his curiosity got him more than his fear did. Maybe this was his chance to be a hero. He saw shadows moving across the wall from the moonlight coming through the dining room window as he moved through the house and sure enough there was the silhouette of a person going through his mother's silverware.

The home invader didn't look all that tall or big and Jerry was pretty sure he could take him with the aid of the baseball bat. The thief was focused on the silverware and was totally unaware of a presence behind him as Jerry made his way across the room, knowing where everything was by heart and having no problem navigating the area.

When he was close enough to the burglar, Jerry took the bat in his hands and swung it with amazing accuracy, striking the invader across the back of his calves with a double blow.

There was a yelp as the person buckled and fell to the floor, apparently hitting their head on the open drawer as they went down.

"Fuck!" the person screamed as he hit the floor but Jerry was confused because the voice sounded strangely feminine.

The person was lying prone on his (her?) stomach moaning in pain as Jerry stood over him. The burglar was wearing dark clothes – some sort of sweats or nylon jogging suit – with a wool ball cap. Jerry placed his knee into the person's back as he squatted down, laying the baseball bat across the person's shoulders and pushing hard.

"Please don't hurt me!" The voice said and Jerry was pretty sure this time it was female.

He was going to take the person by the hair and smash him (her?) into the floor a few times to knock them senseless but when he went to grab the person's head, the hat came off in his hand and a pile of hair flowed out from underneath. It was soft and silky as it fell across his hand.

He wadded the hair in his fist and started to yank on it.

"Ow!" The person yelled out. "That hurts!"

It was definitely a female voice and Jerry let go of her hair.

'What are you doing in here?" He demanded.

"You're supposed to be in Maine, you asshole," came the reply.

Jerry was totally confused. How could the burglar possibly know that?

"My parents gave me a reprieve at the last minute," he said, although he had no idea why he was explaining himself to the intruder.

"Damn," the burglar mumbled.

He still couldn't see her face in the dark shadows and masked by her mop of hair. She also had her face turned toward the floor. He leaned over and turned on the night light that was in the wall socket underneath the hutch that his mother sometimes used as ambiance in the evening and the room became aglow with light. The burglar who was still trapped under his knee and pinned by the baseball bat turned her head toward him and Jerry's mouth dropped open when he saw her face.

"Monica?" He asked with stunned disbelief.

"Busted," she groaned with guilt and humiliation.

Monica Miller lived two doors down. She was a good five years older than him so Jerry didn't really know her very well but their parents were good friends and neighbors. Jerry recalled that when he was around eight and nine, Monica – then thirteen and fourteen or so – would babysit him for a few hours on Friday and Saturday nights when their parents went out. He remembered watching television with her and her reading him stories and playing games.

He didn't see all that much of her after that, the age difference made it impractical and besides she was pretty and popular and he was the neighborhood nerd who often got picked on when he was younger. Jerry smiled when he recalled that even at eight or nine he could help Monica do her junior high homework because he was pretty intelligent even back then (which was why he was considered a nerd, along with the thick glasses he wore.

Jerry wasn't quite as nerdy now as he was about to turn sixteen, but he was hardly a member of the popular crowd and he stuck mostly to himself, content on reading books and working on science projects instead of dealing with all the painful social stuff. He had Bouch and a couple of other guys he hung out with but his few dates with girls from the Science Club and other like interests hadn't faired all that well.

And now here he was, kneeling in his underwear on Monica Miller's back squashing a baseball bat into her shoulder blades. She had to be almost twenty one now. He knew she was still living at home and going to college – either Green or Blue County Community – he wasn't sure. He saw her from time to time coming and going but they had only exchanged pleasantries a few times in recent years.

"You're the neighborhood thief?" He asked with disbelief.

"Allegedly," she mumbled. She took in a deep breath of air. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," he confessed.

"I think you broke my legs," she said. "It really hurts."

"I didn't hit you that hard," he said defensively.

"Yes you did." Her voice broke this time. "Plus I smacked my chin on the drawer."

He peered over at her chin and saw a red mark. "It's not bleeding," he said.

"I think I bit my tongue," she said.


"You could have killed me," she protested.

"You're the thief," Jerry reminded her.

"Why'd you hit me?"

"Why are you robbing us?"

"Could you get off me, please?"

"Can I trust you?"

"To do what?"

"Not to kill me."

"Get serious."

He lifted the bat off of her shoulder blades and released the pressure from his knee in the knot of her back.

"My legs really hurt," she complained, reaching back to rub them.

Maybe it was all the nudity stuff he had been watching all night. Or beating off twice. Or having Monica Miller here in his house in a vulnerable position. Jerry wasn't sure why he did what he did next.

"Let me have a look," he said.

But instead of rolling her pant legs up from the bottom, he leaned up to her waist, grabbed the top of her pants at the waist band and tugged them down forcefully, taking her panties with them and exposing her naked rear as he pulled her clothing all the way down to her ankles.

There was an audible gasp from Monica who dropped her head and cradled it in her arms that were folded on the floor underneath her.

"What are you doing?" She screamed out.

"Checking for bruising," he replied.

"You didn't hit me on the ass you jerk!" She protested.

Jerry glanced at the calves of her legs and saw large red welts across them from where he hit her with the bat. He felt guilty now, of course, but how was he supposed to know? He gently put his hand on the welts.

"Ouch!" She barked. "It really hurts."

He moved his hands up her leg and gently rubbed her thighs and slowly moved upward to the bottom of her round ass cheeks.

"That might be high enough, Jerry," Monica warned, glancing back at him.

He patted her on the buttocks and then removed his hands.

"So, looking at my ass keeps me out of trouble?" She asked.

"Maybe," he said, wondering if he could use this opportunity to blackmail her more.

He pulled her pants and panties all the way off her feet, taking her sneakers with them.

"What are you doing?" She asked with a frown.

"You won't be able to escape half-assed naked," he said.

"What, I'm your prisoner?" She asked with surprise.

"You're the criminal," he acknowledged.

"I wish you wouldn't put it like that," she sighed.

"It's true," he replied, grinning now. "I can call the cops right now if you want."

"Please don't," she said.

"So, you'll do what I say?" He asked hopefully, still not quite able to take his eyes off her lovely bare butt.

"Maybe you should call the cops," she replied with a groan.

"Can you walk?" He asked.

"I don't know," she admitted.

Monica rolled on her side with her front facing him and Jerry's eyes went wide when he saw her muff. He had never seen a girl naked in person before and he looked at her womanhood with appreciative amazement.

"Quit looking at my twat, Jerry," Monica told him.

"I can't help it," he admitted.

"Oh God, I had to rob a virgin," she said, shaking her head.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"I told you I don't know," she responded with annoyance. "I never got clubbed by a baseball bat before."

He reached out and took her by the arms, helping her to her feet as he stood too.

"Ow, ouch, damn," she replied, buckling.

Jerry caught her and held her up.

"You really hurt me, you bastard," she complained.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her bare assed up the stairs to his room, placing her gently on his bed.

"Why don't you take your sweatshirt off?" He suggested as he knelt on the bed next to her, turning on the bed side lamp nearby.

"Because I'm not sweating," she replied.

"Why don't you take your sweatshirt off so I don't have to call the cops," he replied.

"You're a sick bastard, Jerry," she complained as she pulled her sweatshirt off over her head, revealing her white bra underneath.

She didn't even bother waiting for him to tell her to take that off too, reaching behind her back and unfastening it, tossing it aside to reveal her lovely breasts in the soft light.

"Have you ever seen tits before, Jerry?" She asked sarcastically.

"No," he admitted honestly. "Yours are very nice."

She squinted at him, not sure what to say to that.

"What are you going to do now?" She asked suspiciously.

"I thought we could talk," he said.

"Talk!?" She asked with disbelief. "You want to talk to a naked girl?"

"Yes," he said sheepishly. "How often do I get the chance?"

"Well, talk then," she said with a heavy sigh.

He stood and put his hands on the waist band of his underwear.

"Oh God," Monica remarked, glaring at him with uncertainty. "Are you really?"

He dropped his drawers to let his manhood 'breathe' after getting hard inside his briefs.

"Not bad, Jer," Monica admitted as she took a glance and he was both relieved by and proud of her response.

No girl had ever seen him naked before and he was encouraged by her positive evaluation. But then horror and panic struck when he realized that he had left his 'beat off t-shirt' under the covers on the bed.

Jerry's 'beat off tee-shirt' was what he used to masturbate into so his mother wouldn't notice cum stains on his sheets on wash days. He hid it in a box in his closet and pulled it out at night when he was in the mood to do the dastardly deed. When the shirt got so raunchy, crusty, yellow marked and used that it hurt to beat off into it, he threw it away (usually away from the house so his mother wouldn't find it) and started with a fresh shirt. His mother had asked why he seemed to be losing so many tee-shirts and he said it must have been from gym class.

Now naked Monica Miller was sitting on his bed and it was only a matter of time before she came across his latest beat-off tee shirt. Equally naked, Jerry sat on the bed next to her and eyed her naked breasts and muff from his angle.

"Are you a drug addict?" He asked cautiously.

"What?" She asked. "No! What are you talking about?"

"Are you stealing for drug money?"

"No, of course, not, no," she insisted.

"Then why are you breaking into people's houses?" He wanted to know.

"Do I really have to talk about this?" She groaned. "Haven't you humiliated me enough?"

"You were going to steal my mother's silverware, Monica," Jerry pointed out.

"I know," she sighed. "I feel pretty bad."

"There's been at least ten break ins in the Hilltop neighborhood in the last few months," he said. "All you?"

"Yeah," she admitted.

"You stole from your friends and neighbors?"

She shrugged and looked away.

"Why?" Jerry asked. "Your father's a doctor. Your mother runs her own business. You've got everything you ever wanted. Why do you need to steal?"

"Maybe for all those reasons," she theorized. "I don't know."

"How did it start?"

"My boyfriend," she said softly.


"I started dating this guy my parents didn't approve of," she said, glancing down at the bed sheet and playing with the edge with her hands.

Jerry tried to subtly feel around for his beat off tee shirt without Monica noticing.

"So, your boyfriend's a crook?" Jerry asked.

"Not really," Monica revealed. "Just a loser."

"Where'd you meet this guy?"

"School," she shrugged.

"What are you doing with him?"

"I was bored, I guess," Monica admitted.

"So, what? This is some sort of hobby for this guy?"

"I guess," she said. "I mean, he's not poor or anything. He just likes doing it."

"And now you do too?"

"It's a thrill," she said. "A rush. A high."

"Stealing, you mean?"

"Yeah," she answered. "It's like living on the edge."

"But your own neighbors, Monica?"

"I know, I know," she groaned. "I'm beyond embarrassed and ashamed."

"You can't keep doing this," he said. "Can you imagine what would happen if you got caught for real?"

"I did get caught for real," she replied. "With a baseball bat."

"In another house it could be a gun," Jerry said.

She felt a cold rush run down her spine. "I guess I'm pretty lucky it was you," she said.

"Even though you're naked?" He teased.

"You're naked too," she said with a smile.

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I probably deserve it," Monica admitted. "I was getting out of control to tell you the truth."

"Why did you keep doing it then?"

"I couldn't help myself," she said. "It was a high."

"You promise you'll stop?"

She looked at him with interest. "Why do you care so much, Jerry?"

He shrugged with embarrassment. "I always liked you," he said softly.

She smiled. "You did?"

"Sure," he said, louder this time. "But with the age difference and me being a geek and all that what was the point?"

"You're not a geek," she said.

"I heard you calling me Jerry Van Jerk to your friend one time," he revealed.

She blushed with the revelation. "Well, I was the jerk then," she replied.

"Thanks for letting me see you naked," he said.

"Did I have a choice?" She wanted to know.

He laughed. "Probably not," he admitted.

Monica felt something with her foot and reached under the sheet. Jerry was mortified when she pulled out his beat off tee shirt.

"What the….."

He grabbed it from her and threw it across the room. "Never mind that," he said with embarrassment.

"Was that….."

"Never mind!" He pleaded.

"So, you really are a virgin, huh?" She guessed.

He glanced away without saying anything.

"With a masturbation problem?"

"I guess we're even," Jerry sighed. "I'm a pervert and you're a thief."

She looked at him and laughed. "Are you serious? I'm the nutcase."

"No you're not," he said.

"Let's see, I've been stealing and robbing from every family on the hill. I'm dating a loser. I got my legs bashed in by a baseball bat. And now I'm sitting on a bed naked with a fifteen year old naked kid."

"I'm almost sixteen," he pointed out.

"Oh, that changes everything!" She said, rolling her eyes.

"You think I'm one sick pervert," Jerry sighed. "Forcing you to get naked? Beating off in bed?"

"Everybody beats off in bed, Jerry," Monica pointed out. "Don't worry about it."

"You probably think I'm pathetic," he said with shame.

He saw her staring at him.

"What?" He asked nervously.

"I think you're okay, Jerry," Monica told him. "Always did."

"You did?"

She smiled. "You actually look kind of hot sitting here naked like this."

He blushed and he felt himself getting excited again but he didn't think she'd actually have sex with him. But then she leaned over and their mouths met. Jerry pulled away and looked into her eyes.

"You're a good kisser," she assured him.

"Really?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah, really," she smiled.

"Thanks," he said happily.

"Would you like to kiss me somewhere else?" She asked.

Jerry's eyes went wide. "I…I…..

"Look, I know you're doing me a favor not calling the cops or busting me," Monica said. "If you want to experiment a little while you have a chance, its okay with me. You have me at the vulnerable disadvantage right now."


She lifted her hand up to his cheek. "Its okay, Jerry."

He stared at her for a long moment in the eyes but then his gaze dropped down to her breasts and then further. She opened her legs to let him know it was okay. Jerry slid down on the mattress and stuck his head between her legs, licking the hairy area.

"Aren't you going to take off your glasses?" She asked.


"Why not?"

"Because I want to see how beautiful you are," he answered.

"You might get pussy juice all over them," she warned.

"That's okay," he laughed.

Monica began moaning and he spread her legs even wider with his hands as he continued licking her wet vagina.

"That's how you do it, Jerry," Monica affirmed as she wiggled on the bed, breathless now.

Jerry dared to take a finger and carefully insert it into her, slowly thrusting it in and out with fascination as he kept looking from the expression on her face to the unfamiliar view between her legs.

"Keep doing it," she pleaded.

So Jerry thrust his finger faster and harder and suddenly, after a while, she released fluid onto his fist and palm as she groaned and moaned and thrashed about.

"Oh, God, Jerry," she said. "That was great."

He removed his finger and stared at it.

"Taste it," she told him.

He did as he was told, licking his finger and tasting her. Then she smirked knowingly and pushed him back on the bed.

"You've been jacking off long enough," she whispered as she began sucking his penis while her hands rubbed up and down his shaft.

Jerry was beside himself as he squirmed on the mattress with a feeling of ecstasy and excitement he had never felt before. He was muttering and moaning and trashing his hands about, trying to touch her as she touched him in such an intimate way. His hands went through her hair and rubbed along her breasts that were rubbing against his thigh and he reached around and tried to squeeze her buns as she continued to work her magic with her mouth on his dick and before he knew what was happening he was exploding into her mouth, screaming out loudly knowing the house was empty.

Monica laughed at his reaction when she was done with the slurp job and then she was squatting on top of him with her ass floating over his penis.

"Do you want to?" She asked.

"Please." He wanted to cry.

She lowered herself until he was inside her love canal and he began humping her like he had done it before. It must have been years of practicing and fantasizing. Could he really cum four times in one night (two beat offs, a blow job, and now a fuck?).

They were both gasping and panting and suddenly Jerry felt himself climaxing again.

"I'm going to go," he warned her.

"Go ahead," she urged, almost unable to speak.

He screamed out her name and she moaned just as loudly before collapsing on top of him while trying to catch her breath.

"I can't believe any of this really happened," Jerry confessed as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"Me either," Monica sighed.

He rubbed the back of her calves. "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

"It doesn't matter now," she whispered happily. "It was worth it!"

"Is this the new penalty for breaking and entering?" He teased.

She laughed. "I'm officially retired," she told him.

"I'm glad I rehabilitated you," he smirked.

"But," she sighed sadly. "I'd better go. I need to be in my own bed in the morning."

"Come back for breakfast," he pleaded.

"Okay," she said with a smile.

"And then we can hang out all day."


"Naked," he grinned.

"Okay," she agreed.

"You can be the thief again."


"I'll catch you breaking and entering."

"Sounds like fun."