Block Party Bully

Many thanks to my friend Gayle for her input as well as editing the text! Comments welcome.

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I grew up in a residential community in a small town outside of Boston. Everyone in the area knew one another, and there were plenty of kids my age, so overall it was a pretty great place to be for a kid. Each August, the neighborhood would get together to throw a big block party in the central square for an all-day affair. Kids were allowed to hang out during the day and take part in numerous planned activities, and the adults would party into the evening, long after the children were put to bed.

My name is Ryan and I just finished my sophomore year of college. I had been attending the neighborhood parties for as long as I can remember, and had been allowed to stay late into the night for just the last few. I was pretty amazed at how much alcohol was consumed and how silly some of my usually staid neighbors became, but everyone had fun and nobody got hurt, so what the hell.

I know they say opposites attract, but that did not appear to be the case with my parents. They are both pretty quiet and shy, and have a lot in common physically as well. If you didn't know better, you'd probably think they were brother and sister or maybe cousins.

Dennis, my dad, stands about five foot six and is on the slender side, weighing no more than a hundred and forty pounds. He has the fair hair and blue eyes that run in our family, but sports a mustache that I thought looked a bit silly. Overall he's a pretty decent guy, and I can't recall him raising his voice in anger in years. Sadly, he seemed to live his life without much passion for anything, other than golf that is.

My mom's name is Debbie, and very simply she is a doll. Like my father, she's on the shorter side, standing only five foot two, and keeps trim by watching what see eats and exercising regularly. She has short blonde hair and bright blue eyes that really shine when she smiles, which she does often. I think she's exceptionally cute, and on more than one occasion I've spied my buddies checking her out. She has "girl next-door" or maybe "soccer mom" written all over her, and usually dresses the part. I've never told anyone this, but I've had the hots for her as long as I can remember, and have dreamed about making love to her literally on hundreds of occasions.

I had been looking forward to the block party for weeks as there were a couple families that had recently moved in with girls about my age or a tad younger. I had hoped to get better acquainted with them and maybe sneak one home while Mom and Dad were partying.

There was one thing that could compromise my plan though. Dad tended to drink a bit too much at parties; I think to fit in as he was pretty shy and generally uncomfortable in crowds. As a result, he'd sometimes require a helping hand to get home and would need to be poured into bed. Mom was embarrassed by his behavior, but as he did it only once or twice a year, didn't make a big deal out of it. The previous year I had to walk him home as he babbled my ear off, with Mom in tow right behind us.

The day of the party Mom was dressed smartly as always. She wore a cute yellow sundress which had two thin spaghetti straps over her shoulders and came down to just a couple of inches above her knees. She had on just a hint of makeup, lightly highlighting her natural beauty. Her blonde hair sparkled in the sun as we all took the short walk to the party.

I noticed that my parents did not talk on the way to the gathering, which was not an uncommon event of late. Ever since I'd been home from school, there seemed to be an undercurrent of tension in the house which was hard to escape. My parents never fought in my presence, but they rarely spoke either.

By the time we arrived, the bash was in full swing. There were kids running all over the place and a huge billow of smoke rose from the line of grills at the end of the path. Adults were all around in groups talking and sipping cocktails, enjoying the day.

I milled about with friends from the neighborhood, and kept a keen eye out for the new girls. Time flew by and before I knew it the sun was going down. Most of the children had been sent home, so the party was then largely kids in their late teens and adults. Sadly, the new girls were nowhere in sight. I had not seen my dad for a while, so I thought I'd check on him to make sure he was okay.

I was surprised to find him chatting with Mr. Jacobson, our neighbor from down the street. This I found really odd as the Jacobson family were pretty much the black sheep of our quiet little community and not the type with whom my dad usually associated. Mr. Jacobson was a trucker, and stood at least six feet tall with broad shoulders and chest, looking even larger standing next to my slight father. He had a reputation as a bully and was known to knock back more than a few beers at the local pub quite often. His wife had left him a few years back, but nobody really knew why.

There were two sons in the family as well, and let's just say the apple didn't fall far from the tree. They were not quite as large as their dad, but loved to push around the smaller kids in the neighborhood. They didn't seem to have any other friends and went everywhere together. Edward and Steven were about my age, maybe twenty and eighteen respectively.

I stood back and watched the interplay between my dad and Mr. Jacobson for a while, wondering what on earth the two of them had in common. Dad's eyes looked a bit glassy, so I assumed my fears were justified that he'd enjoyed a few cold ones. At one point I saw Mr. Jacobson drain his beer, and then pat my dad's back, leading him towards the coolers. He pulled out another beer and handed it to my father, then the two toasted and each took a long drink.

Something didn't feel right in my gut, but I figured I should go check on my mom to see how she was doing. I found her hanging out with a few women I knew as her friends, and they were all sipping wine as they chatted. She seemed okay, but when I turned to walk away, something startled me. The Jacobson sons, Edwards and Steven were lurking just in the background, leering at the ladies intently, so I decided to keep an eye on them for a moment. Every now and then they leaned in and whispered to one another as they stared at the women, so I knew something was up.

I kept an eye on Edward and Steve for quite a while, and other than grab another beer they hadn't moved, so I figured it was safe to run and check on my dad for a minute. I found him still alongside Mr. Jacobson, looking more intoxicated than when I had left him only a half hour or so before.

After accessing the situation, I walked up to the two and said hello. Dad responded with a loud, "There's my boy," something I don't think I'd ever heard him say sober. I said hi to Mr. Jacobson and he shook my hand firmly while staring into my eyes, I assumed trying to intimidate me. Dad babbled on for a couple minutes before Mr. Jacobson excused himself for a bathroom break. I thought about taking him home, but Dad appeared to be in enough control to last a while, so I left him and went to find mom again.

In my absence she had moved and it took me a while to locate her. She was talking with our neighbors, Pete and Sandy Scott, who we'd known for ages. I scanned the crowd around her and sure enough, there were the two Jacobson boys not far away, peering towards my mom. Since the ladies she was with previously had all dispersed, it was clear where the boy's interest laid. I had no doubt they were checking out my mom.

Thankfully I had decided not to drink that evening, so my mind was sharp. It seemed weird that big, bad Mr. Jacobson would hang out with my somewhat nerdy dad for so long while his boys we ogling my mother. Suddenly a strange thought ran through my head. They aren't working together, are they? The boys' dad getting my father plastered so they could move in on my mother? It seemed plausible, but highly unlikely and I dismissed it as a useless conspiracy theory. My mom was hot, so I could see guys around my age checking her out, and Dad was a fairly decent guy so maybe Mr. Jacobson really liked him. I was still uneasy so I kept up my watch from a safe distance.

About a half hour later, I felt a strong hand grasp my shoulder. I turned and found Mr. Jacobson standing beside me. "Ryan, your dad's had too much to drink. You better get him home before he makes an ass of himself in front of the entire neighborhood," he said and pointed across the lawn at a small group of people.

I felt ill at ease leaving my mom, but we walked together until we found my dad slumped in a chair, slurring words as he spoke to two guys from down the street. I leaned over and pulled Dad out of the chair and slipped my arm around his back. He looked at me puzzled for a moment, until I announced to the two gentlemen and Mr. Jacobson that it was time for us to go. He complained for a moment but then was silent as we started towards our home.

Mr. Jacobson stopped me for a second and said, "You better stay with him after he passes out. We can't have him choking on his puke."

I just wanted to get Dad home, but I worried about my mom too. He must have sensed it from the look on my face, because he said, "Don't worry about your mom. I'll make sure she gets home safely."

Instantly I knew his intentions were not honorable and the conspiracy theory I pushed aside earlier suddenly seemed more than possible. I knew people rarely if ever choked to death on their own vomit, so I assumed it was simply a ploy to keep me away. I figured I could get Dad to the house and be back in no more than five minutes, so I told him okay and continued leading my dad home.

No sooner were we in the door than I had dad safely on his bed. I stayed just a few minutes when dad began to snore, passed out on the thick comforter. I turned his head to the side just to be safe, and then made a bee line back to the party.

The crowd had thinned out quite a bit, but there were still two dozen or so late-night revelers. I stood behind a large tree and spied my mom in a small group, the three Jacobson men not far away. They seemed to be huddled up as if planning something sinister and a cold sweat formed on my body as I had a sneaky suspicion of what or whom it might involve. Every now and then one would glance over his shoulder in my mom's direction, and then back into the huddle.

I thought about walking over and escorting my mom home, but for some reason I was intrigued with what was going to happen. Deep down, I figured my mind was playing tricks and I was probably blowing things out of proportion, but a nagging ache in the pit of my stomach warned me to be on guard.

As the party wound down, I saw Mr. Jacobson move alongside my mom. Her eyes were glassy, and it wasn't until then that I realized she held a wine glass in her hand pretty much the entire night. She looked a bit nervous standing next to the scourge of the neighborhood, but didn't run away either. He bent down and whispered something in her ear, and she nodded as if she understood whatever he was telling her, and then she scanned the area as if searching for something. I assume she was looking for my dad as Mr. Jacobson may have told her he went home. Fortunately, she didn't see me hiding behind the large maple tree so I was able to surreptitiously continue taking in the action.

The two boys stayed back a few yards and watched their dad with rapt attention. There was clearly something afoot, and my interest was piqued. I watched their father chat with my mom for a few minutes, then he held his hand out as if leading the way and they started off towards our home. I saw Mr. Jacobson nod towards his sons, and they moved off quickly in another direction, but I had a feeling they were not headed to bed.

I followed at a safe distance as Mr. Jacobson escorted my mom towards the greenway that ran between houses towards our road. The trail was lighted but overgrown with trees on both sides, so it was difficult to make them out at times as they passed from shadow to shadow.

I hurried to stay close, keeping an eye and ear out for Edward and Steven. I remembered their house was just off the path on our way, so I wondered if Mr. Jacobson was planning a detour. Just as Mom and he were about to pass the gate to his house, two figures loomed up before them. Even in the half light, I knew it was Edward and Steven, so I slipped into the woods and crept up close to them as softly as I could.

I heard Mr. Jacobson say, "What do you want, boys?" It sounded very practiced as though he already knew exactly what they wanted.

"Can't pass here unless you pay the toll," Edward responded.

"Well, what's the toll?" he grunted back.

"Can't pass here without leaving an article of clothing," he answered enthusiastically.

"Sounds reasonable," Mr. Jacobson replied, and pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to his son.

I stealthily moved just off the path next to them behind a large shrub, and waited with baited breath for what was to come.

"Her too," Steven stated, pointing at my mom.

I could see the spotlight above just barely illuminate her face, and her eyes were wide but very glassy. Clearly Mom had had a lot to drink and her mind could not have been very sharp at that moment, but she didn't say a word or make a move to get away.

Mr. Jacobson moved behind my mother and stated, "Well, Debbie, what's it gonna be? It doesn't look like you're wearing a bra, so dress or panties?" Mom mumbled something incoherently, but Mr. Jacobson quickly moved his hands to her shoulders and eased the straps down her arms. Before she could react with her wine-addled mind, he moved his fingers and grasped her dress at the hips and pulled down. Only a second later, my mom stood in the middle of the greenway in only her panties, her cute dress in a pool around her ankles. I heard my mother gasp as she realized what happened, and raise her arms to cover her exposed breasts.

I could see the smug but excited expression on each of the boys faces as their eyes wandered all over my mom's lovely figure. Their father moved in closer behind her and reached around to grab her wrist. He slowly pulled them back behind her and held them in place, affording his son's an unencumbered view of my mom's small but perky tits. I heard him say, "Part of the toll is letting them get a good look."

Mom appeared to be breathing deeply, but the look in her eyes made it seem more from excitement than fear. I wondered if the game the boys were playing was actually turning her on. As hard as it is to admit, I was very aroused seeing my mom in such a vulnerable position. I was ready to pounce if things went too far, but really wanted to see just what might happen next and how she'd react.

Mr. Jacobson said, "Well, waddya think? Aren't our dear neighbor's tits magnificent?"

"Hell, yea," Steven barked, while Edward simply grunted his approval.

"Come get a closer look, boys," Mr. Jacobson announced, then added, "Debbie won't mind, will ya, baby?"

I heard Mom mutter, "Oh god," and saw her try to twist out of his hands halfheartedly, but he held her fast. It was hard to tell if she was really trying to get away but was too drunk to control herself, or whether she was putting up only token resistance intentionally. She settled back down after a few seconds and looked towards the ground as if defeated.

The boys hesitated while Mom struggled, but then moved forward when she calmed down. They made no effort to hide the fact that they were scanning her entire body, ogling her breasts in particular.

"Go ahead, touch them," Mr. Jacobson instructed his boys.

I could see the indecision in their faces, as if they realized what a big step they were about to take. Steven began to raise his hard towards my mom's chest, but suddenly stopped, clearly having second thoughts.

"Go ahead and touch them, I said," he stressed again, clearly getting agitated. He added, "Debbie here just loves to be touched, I can tell."

I looked at Mom's face and even in the low light I could tell her cheeks were flushed. I had no way of telling if it was simply from the wine, from fear, embarrassment or possibly arousal, but they were clearly red. I saw her slowly close her eyes and roll her head back a touch, making me think she was actually excited by being forced the way she was.

A quick image of my dad, passed out in bed came into my head and it pissed me off. He should be here defending his wife's honor, but instead he had left that task up to me. The thought of my dad, coupled with the image of those two punks touching my mother's tits finally set a flame burning in my belly, which started to grow until rage was torching my body. I reached down and grabbed a stick the size of a baseball bat that was at my feet, and jumped past the shrub into the greenway next to my mom.

All three Jacobson's jumped in surprise, but the father still held my mom in place. I held the stick out before me and said as calmly as possible, "Let her go, asshole."

There was silence for a minute, but Mr. Jacobson held her fast. He finally broke the silence and said, "We're just having some fun here, Ryan. Don't worry about it." He peered into my eyes and stated flatly, "Why don't you go home and check on your dad before someone gets hurt."

I'm sure the last thing he expected was for me to chuckle, but I did, heartily. I also dropped the stick to show I was not afraid in the least. See, I had an ace in the hole I had not shared with those out of my family and immediate circle of friends.

Guess it's a good time to tell you a bit about myself. When I was young I was totally hyper, and my conservative parents were at their wits end with what to do with me. A counselor suggested martial arts as a good way to learn discipline, and apparently my parents agreed.

So the little secret the boys didn't know was that I had been taking taekwondo since I was in kindergarten, attaining a black belt when I was still a teen, and have been an instructor for years. I have competed in numerous tournaments around my part of the country and have held my own with men far larger than Mr. Jacobson. I'm bigger than my dad at five foot nine and just under one hundred and sixty pounds. I'm not huge by any means, but wiry and fast as lightning. For my size, I also pack a hell of a wallop.

Mr. Jacobson stared at me and I looked directly back at him and gave him a big smile, which I could tell unnerved him. It was good to see the uncertainty in his eyes, and even though I was outnumbered, it made me feel like I had the upper hand already. I decided to push things and repeated, "I said. Let her go, asshole."

With that he turned a bit and moved Mom between us as though she were a shield. I have to admit I stole a quick glance at her pert titties, before I regained my senses and checked to see where everyone else was. Mr. J then yelled at his sons, "Take him!"

The boys looked even more uncertain than their father, but Edward slowly moved towards me with his fists raised. I just stood with my hands at my sides, almost daring him to make a move. He did. With a lunge, Edward threw a right hand towards my face which I easily sidestepped as it was telegraphed and clumsily delivered. His hand cut the air as it whizzed past my face, just as the heel of my right palm made square contact with his nose.

There was a distinct popping sound as Edward fell to the ground with a scream. I looked down and saw him writhing on the dirt path, clutching his face. I was quite certain a trip to the emergency room was in his future to repair a shattered nose.

Steven was staring down at his brother in disbelief, and then a rage must have overtaken him because he soon was charging me like a bull. He apparently meant to tackle me, but like his brother he was far too slow, maybe from the alcohol he consumed earlier, and I sidestepped his advance as well. Just as he was about to rush past me, I shot my leg up and hit him firmly in the belly with my shin, dropping him like a rock. He too lay on the ground, whimpering like a baby and sucking in air, as I turned towards his dad.