Her Secret Sex Life (15 page)

Then again she touched the tip of the vibrator to his anus, and at the same moment furled her tongue along the side of his glans, her other hand stroking his Inner right thigh. The blond teenager stiffened, his head rose, and then a bellow of maddened ecstasy was wrenched from him his heels pitilessly flailed Rachel's bowed back, and she felt the violent hot gush of his viscous seed. Taken by surprise, she gagged first, then hastily swallowed, fighting to regain control, and at last managed to overcome the initial revulsion; by sheer will, she forced into her mind the thought, it's Timothy's seed, because Timmy's his own flesh of flesh, and so it's my husband responding to me by loving proxy.

At last his spasm was at an end, and with a moaning sigh, he sprawled his legs wide and off her servilely bent bare back. She straightened, kneeling erect, her face flushed, her lips stickied, and found him staring almost in awe at her. "Jeez, you damn near killed me that time, Mummy-where the hell did you learn those tricks?" he mumbled.

"J-just by-by wanting to please you, dear. Not out of a book In love, being natural and unashamed with the person you've chosen teaches you much more than any book."

He shook his head, then chuckled lewdly. "Boy oh boy! I gotta give you credit, Mummy, you got guts. I sure thought you'd chicken out-so did Heather. Hey-I bet that date of hers was some of your doing too, huh? Never mind, I'll find out what I wanna know from Sis. Hey look, though-" he pointed at his cock, still stiff and upright between his lewdly straddIed legs.

"It shows you're very much a man, Timmy, and this girl I was telling you about will think so, too."

"You think so, huh? Well, we'll see. Hey, you gotta take care of me again, though, Mummy. I can't go to sleep with a hard-on, now, can I? Whyn't you take your panties off and lemme flick you-only this time, you can have part of the- action-yeah, I guess you earned that much."

Rachel's face was scarlet but she unflinchingly smiled back at him and nodded. Then, as he watched open-mouthed, she put her slim fingers to the waistband of the white nylon panties and husked them down, lifted each knee in turn and dropped them to the floor, facing him on her knees in only garter belt and nylons. His eyes at once fixed on the thick black curls that framed the soft pink lips of her cunt, and she saw his cock throb and jerk, as if angrily demanding entrance into that tight warm haven.

And now that she had gone so far along the pathway of lascivious, amoral passion, lending her body as a separate entity from which all conscience and moral scruples had been purposely banished, Rachel found herself singularly aroused by the mingled lust and admiration which she read in young Tim's gleammg eyes and the almost awed rictus of his mouth. Even though her blushes deepened till they seemed to spread down to her throat and even her dainty ear-lobes, she picked up the vibrator, flicked It on again and, smiling unabashedly at the boy, brought it towards the silky black thicket of her cunt, and touched the crinkly coral-tinted lips here and there, shivering voluptuously at the erotic – stimulus that tingled through her, penetrating-or so it seemed-to her very womb.

"Jeez!" he breathed hoarsely, squirming impatiently over the pillow beneath his sinewy buttocks, "c'mon, take care'a me, Mummy!"

"I'm going to, dear. But a girl has feelings too. There-oooh-n-now I think I-I'm ready," Rachel gasped, touching her clitoris with the vibrator and feeling a molten lavalike wave of sensuality surge through her being. Then, moving to him, she grasped his turgid penis in her left hand, touched the tip and the circumcisional groove fleetingly with the whirring vibrator, and then, laying the implement down beside her, parted the lips of her cunt with right thumb and forefinger as she guided the boy's wildly throbbing cock into her now eager cleft, and sank slowly down atop him.

With a gurgling cry, young Tim hugged her, crushing down the splendid pears of her breasts against his heaving chest, his mouth gluing to hers, his legs clamping over her stockinged calves, and she felt his cock dig to the very hilt along the sensitized volutes of her vaginal sheath. Closing her eyes, she groped for the vibrator, and began to glide its tip over his hip and side, her left hand stroking his flushed, contorted face, willing herself to offer all of herself to the feverish needs of this precocious son of the man she deeply loved, for thus a stronger bond of the flesh could be forged between 'them all.

Under her, young Tim threshed and writhed, arching himself up with every sinew, panting and groaning, and the mature brunette accommodated herself to the unleashed demands of her inimical stepson. For she comprehended that this hostility had been born out of his ego and its rejection by his fellows. And by now, totally aroused as a woman who had deliberately -begun the ritual of passion and was now being inexorably drawn into its heedless vortex, she could feel the shuddering contractions of her vaginal sheath against his thrusting cock, feel the slow, thrilling, cumulating surge of burgeoning response… the elemental urgency that cast aside all morality and introspection and was timeless in its equation of cock and cunt.

She moved the vibrator up to his armpit, felt him jerk frantically under her, gasped at the violent frictioning inroads his cock was making along the tingling,- quaking, burning walls of her now wildly answering cunt, and, parting her lips to his, imparted the benediction of her soft warm tongue deep into his gasping mouth.

With an inchoate cry, the boy gripped the resilient oval cheeks of her behind and dug his fingers into them with elemental ferocity; arching himself up wildly, with every nerve and muscle straining, he rasped his tongue greedily against hers, and then the spasm seized him. Rachel felt the explosive triggering of his climax-though lessened in intensity from her initial oral assuagement-and then her trembling hand. dropped the vibrator and she cupped his face with both hands as she surrendered to the bubbling, churning compulsion that seized her naked body and made it writhe and squirm and grind to his in an intolerable excitement that plunged her down deep into the supreme abyss.

They lay sprawled, panting, both dazed by the primal savagery of that simultaneous crescendo, and then wanly, young Tim gasped, "Jeez, for a square, Mummy, you sure know how to fuck! And boy, were you ever right-it's better'n any book!"

"Of course it is, sweetheart. And it'll be even better with this girl who wants to meet you, Timmy."

Agilely, she rolled off the youth, onto her side, and then she blushed furiously as his eyes swept her nakedness. But the glint in them this time was not of vindictive hatred or contempt, but rather one of grudging admiration and almost incredulous gratitude. "You're not putting me on" his voice was hoarse, unsteady.

"I never lie, dear, and always keep my word-you know that now, don't you?"

"Yeah-Jeez, I'll say I do! Okay, now-look, Mummy, can you-I mean-well, could you fix it up for me?"

"Well, since your father won't be back till at least Friday night, I think you could manage to see Dinah tomorrow night-that is, if you think you can take on a gorgeous blonde with soft pink skin." Teasingly, she put out a hand to squeeze his now dwindled cock.

"Whaddva mean?" he blustered, then, meeting her cool gaze, blushingly grinned. "Well, I'll sure give it a try. Now tell me all about her, huh, Mummy?"

Red-haired Heather had been favorably impressed by Arnold Cautwell's calling for her at the house on Astor Street in his cream-colored Cadillac and, despite her customary outward pose of bored cynicism, greatly flattered by the Old World courtesy of his handing her in and out of the car. At dinner in the Wilmette home, seated beside his mother and sister before a beautifully set table, she observed also his adroit manipulation of the conversation so that it constantly evolved about her, concerning her likes and dislikes in the arts, her views on civic and world affairs. In short, he was treating her like an adult equal instead of being "on the make," as so many of her previous escorts had been.

After coffee and liqueurs, Laura and Fern Cantwell exchanged a quick glance, then Arnold's mother smilingly remarked, "Now, Miss Woodling, if you'll excuse us, Fern and I go to bed early these nights, so we can be rested for the wearisome work of this redecorating which your very gifted stepmother is handling so expertly for us. I do hope you'll visit us again very soon.

Alone with the handsome architect, Heather eyed him, a cynical smile on her petulant mouth, and drawled, 'Arnold, you've really got it made. You're the living prototype of the Establishment. A swanky pad out here in the sticks where nobody tries to rip you off, a plushy job where you can do what you want-high society personified. Not many women ever get to be in your shoes."

"Do I detect the envy of a Women's Libber in that comment, Heather?" he reached over with his monogrammed lighter and lit her cigarette before his own.

"Not really. Maybe I just don't like to live by convention."

"Since you're in such a fighting mood, how about some chess?"

"Suits me. Where's that fancy board of yours?"

"I moved it downstairs to the basement recreation room while this first floor is being remodeled. By the way, thanks for being nice to my mother and Fern. They like you."

"Thanks. They're square too, but I don't mind their kind. And they sure think the sun rises and sets in you, Arnold." She gave him a mocking little smile as she rose and followed him down the narrow little stairway to the basement. For her date tonight. Heather had restyled her lustrous, soft coppery-red hair into a short pageboy with curls turned under, put on only a touch of pale pink lipstick, and worn her prettiest dress, a green rayon print with short puffed sleeves and V-shaped collar, the skirt ending an inch above her shapely knees. Though fond of white calfskin knee-length boots, which she invariably wore on the Midlothian campus, she had tonight substituted trim three-inch-heeled black suede pumps and her gauziest copper-toned nylons which accentuated the alluring pale ivory sheen of her skin.

Arnold Cantwell stood aside at the door of the recreation room to let her go ahead of him, his lips pursed, his eyes scanning her voluptuously ripe figure. There was a miniature bar at one end, with leather-padded stools; tables for pingpong and billiards, two armchairs, a backless, low, long black leather-upholstered couch, and the familiar table with the ivory chess pieces set out on both sides of the inlaid board. The walls of this attractive room were decorated with glass-covered, silver-framed Currier amp; Ives prints.

Heather walked over to the side of the board on which the white pieces were arrayed, glanced mockingly at the architect, and proffered, "Maybe we ought to play for stakes, the way the American masters used to do at the Coney Island concessions back in the Thirties."

"What did you have in mind?"

Her eyebrows arched insolently. "I'll think of something-no, maybe I'd better not. I might shock you."

"You know, Heather, I've the impression you think I'm old enough to be your father. I happen to be thirty-two, which means I'd have had to conceive you towards the latter months of my eleventh year. About that time in life I was having trouble with algebra, not girls."

She shrugged as, still standing beside the table, she reached out to move the king's pawn two squares forward. "You probably never had trouble with girls, not a square like you, Arnold."

"So that's what you think?"

"If you want me to be perfectly truthful, yes. That's why, though you've certainly been very courteous and treated me like a lady, I've a feeling nothing much is going to happen. So I'd just as soon have it understood at the start that I like playing chess with somebody who knows how to play, but that's about all"

"Sit down and let's play, then. I'll play the French Defense, P-K3 to your first move," he said curtly as he seated himself and made the move. Heather giggled, pulled back her chair, and seated herself, and the game began.

Half an hour later, the red-haired beauty, In her Intense determination to win; had begun a premature king's side attack. Five moves later, scowling as she stared at her hopeless position, she shrugged again, this time in resignation, and turned down her king. "I guess you've got me, Arnold."

The prematurely gray-haired architect shoved back his chair and rose, studying his lovely, petulant red-haired opponent, who leaned back in her chair to look up at him with a defiant, sulky frown. "I have, at that, Heather, and I appear to be stuck with you."

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean, Arnold?"

"Just that I'm going to take you up on your proposal of stakes for the winner, my girl." He moved swiftly round the table, caught her by the wrist and yanked her to her feet. As she gasped in startled surprise, Arnold Cantwell doubled her captive wrist behind her back with her left hand, then calmly slapped her cheek smartly with his other palm, and before she could recover from the shock of this unpredictable behavior, kissed her hard on the mouth.

"Damn you! Let go of my wrist, you bastard!" she huskily gasped, squirming and twisting to evade him.

"I see. You're like most sophisticates of your type, Heather, all talk and pretense and no real sincerity."

"Ohh! And you-you're a rich, parasitical snob, you are!" she hissed, and, drawing back her hand, slapped him back across the mouth.

Arnold Cantwell chuckled. Then, without haste, he circled her waist with his left arm, crooked his right arm round her knee hollows and lifted her up in the air, and carried her over to the couch. Frantic with chagrin, Heather kicked wildly and struck at him with her fists, her pumps flying off to land on the floor with a thud. Ignoring her furious struggle and her profane threats, he forced her down on her belly on the couch, then swiftly yanked up her skirt and lace-trimmed white nylon petticoat to expose the ripely curved, creamy thighs above the tops of her copper-tinted hose and the provocative little white nylon panties which left the base of her opulent young buttocks temptingly bare.