Chapter 3
Valerie overslept in the morning.
Sunlight was pouring in the bedroom windows when she finally opened her eyes. She looked instinctively at the other side of the bed, but it was empty. Mark was both an early riser and an early-to-the-office man.
She looked next at the bureau mirror, their bulletin board, and saw the familiar square of white paper slipped between glass and wood in one corner. She yawned, knuckled her eyes, sat up, and reluctantly extended her feet to the floor. She walked to the bureau in the gossamer nightgown which had been one of Mark's presents to her, a gown so sheer that fleeting suggestions of Valerie's cranberry-red teats and mossy mound showed through it.
As usual, Mark's message was brief. "Home for dinner, sweetheart." Valerie's eyes lingered on the final word. It was his favorite endearment for her, and the one she cherished most. Smiling, she put on a robe and went downstairs. It was Ethel's morning for tennis, and she assumed that Penny, a congenital late sleeper, was still in her bedroom.
The first thing Valerie saw when she entered the living room was the cushions from the chaise longue still lined up in a row in front of the fireplace where she and Mark had forgotten them the previous evening. Her cheeks pinkened as she wondered if Ethel had seen them and made the correct deduction. She replaced them on the chaise, then sat down and stared introspectively at the fireplace.
In her mind's eye she re-created the scene from last night: two naked bodies on the chaise cushions, the one glisteningly white and juicily plump, the other muscularly hard and masculinely hirsute, welded together in sexual frenzy. The picture stirred her; her fingers curled until her nails bit into her palms. Was that what Ethel had seen mentally if she saw the lined-up cushions this morning?
Valerie decided suddenly that she didn't care. It had been horribly embarrassing yesterday to discover oneself under observation in the heat of the moment in the motel room, but wasn't Mark right about it? They loved each other, and who had a better right to demonstrate their love in any manner they saw fit? Not too many women could make their husbands as happy as she tried to make Mark, Valerie comforted herself.
She recalled his reference to their very first session together, and her features glowed at the remembrance. She shook her blond head in fond recollection. His wanting her hadn't come as a surprise-it rarely does to any woman, she reflected-but the occasion was surely a tribute to Mark's daring and boldly executed strategy.
Mark Walker had wangled an introduction to Valerie very shortly after his first appearance at church as a newcomer in town. The handsome grass widower had been the cynosure of all eyes, but he had had none himself except for Valerie. He pursued her steadily with invitations only half of which she accepted, and proposed to her in the third week of their acquaintanceship.
She had put him off, both flattered and flustered. The man's vibrant masculinity made her feel physically weak in his close presence. She wasn't sure she wanted this whirlwindish male animal in her ordered, manless life. After all, she had done without a man for years, despite feminine itchings. And very nicely, thank you, she told herself proudly.
And then with one bold stroke Mark had made her speculations about herself and her future moot. He had appeared at choir practice one evening, surprisingly since he admitted to having no voice. He had joked with her about it when she first asked him if he cared to join the choir. "Only if you have a part for a bullfrog," he answered.
But there he was, in the choir loft that night, smiling and moving toward her. Little Letitia Hogan was at the organ, and Valerie was wielding the baton. Mark beckoned to her, and she tapped the baton on the music stand, bringing the chorus to a ragged halt. "From the beginning, please," she said, handed the baton to her assistant to conduct the score, and walked toward Mark.
"You're looking more beautiful than ever this evening," he began.
"I'm sure you didn't come here this evening just to tell me that, Mark," she replied. For the first two weeks of their acquaintanceship she had called him Mr. Walker. She felt a wariness with the man. She had already successfully fended off an attempted coup upon her person in her own home. She didn't hold it against him, since he had offered no force, and this was the substructure of the male nature. But if and when she succumbed-accepted his offer of marriage, that is-it would be upon her own terms, she had long since decided.
"I came about the church organ," he said. He turned her about until she was facing it. "I'm something of an amateur organ buff, and this one is rather unique." He gestured largely toward the sweeping bank of organ pipes above Letitia Hogan's gray head. "I wonder if there's the usual room at the rear where I might examine the interior piping and the electronic bellows?"
"Why, yes, there is," she conceded, pointing out the small door.
"Will I need a guide?" he inquired.
"I'll be glad to show you, Mark," she answered, and motioned for her assistant to continue with the full score.
She entered the cramped space behind the thin partition and turned on the single unshaded light bulb. When she turned, Mark had closed the door and was but a step away from her. Before she had a chance to divine his intention, he took her in his arms. Then his hard lips were impressed firmly upon her soft mouth while one arm held her easily and the other hand roamed her body, her breasts, her buttocks, her thighs. She couldn't free her mouth from his passionately sportive lips and questing tongue, and when she felt his hand rucking up her skirt she was unable to pivot away from the probing fingers and palm which cupped the whole of her plump sex in her girdle-opening.
He had her half-undressed while she was still trying to free herself from the fiery tongue and ardent mouth which stirred her to her toes. Above their heads the organ pipes wheezed, rattled, and groaned, the bass notes setting off vibrations which trembled the floor under their feet. Valerie gasped as the searching mouth disappeared while he was ridding her of her girdle and the hard masculine hands laved her luxuriantly supple fan-shaped nude buttock cheeks. She felt as if she were suffocating in the intensity of her mingled emotions.
He unzipped his trousers and placed in her hand an erection whose size made her knees quake. She looked down at it instinctively, hating herself at once for the unladylike betrayal of her arousal. The purple-headed monster with its throbbing blue veins winked up at her, and she swallowed hard.
She felt like a rag doll as Mark turned her about and doubled her over. He crowded up behind her under the glaring light bulb and the rampant big prick prodded her flinching thigh-juncture. He had it into her squirming cunt so expertly and so quickly that half its lovely gristle was imbedded in her before she could draw a second breath.
She had never been fucked from the rear standing up, and she wouldn't have believed she could enjoy it. Her naked bottom was chafed briskly by his trouser-front as he rammed her so hard he moved her across the narrow space. Her long-virgin cunt-sheath felt unbearably distended yet hotly functional from the riotous gusto of its ravishment. She came twice with jerking accompaniments by her stomach muscles before she felt his meaty prong savagely deluge her still-twitching sex-slit. She almost fell when he pulled out of her.
He turned her around, straightened her up, and kissed her gently on the mouth. "Let's get married this weekend, Val," he urged. She was unable to speak, and he patted her behind before releasing her and putting himself to rights. "Get yourself together while I go out front and pretend I'm measuring the pipes." He pulled a tape measure from his pocket and went out the door.
Shakily she made herself presentable, almost falling again while struggling back into her girdle. Fortunately her lipstick was the non-smear type. She patted at her hair with her hands.
Mark came back into the small room with the metal tape measure in his hands. He showed her an extended section of it. "That's how much you just had up your sweet cunt," he told her softly.
"S-stop it!" she stammered faintly. She wet her dry lips with her tongue. "Do I-do I look all right?"
"Beautiful," he said fervently. "Beautiful."
She hardly remembered leaving the space behind the organ. Outside, in the more brightly lighted choir loft, Mark talked rapidly in an undertone and waved his arms about in large circles. He bowed low in silent thanks and then descended the loft steps. Valerie's assistant silently handed her the baton, and incredibly, she found herself mechanically conducting the choir while a small, slow trickle of moisture ran down the inside of her right thigh.
She and Mark weren't married that weekend, but never for an instant after that tumultuous few moments did Valerie doubt that she would indeed marry this forceful man. And never for a moment had she regretted it.
Sitting on the chaise longue, Valerie sighed, recalling it all. Mark had taken her measure and never removed his finger from the button ever since. And you love it, she told herself. Admit it. You love it.
She forced herself upright and into reluctant motion again. She went out into the kitchen and put on the coffee, opened the refrigerator door and decided she didn't want anything else, and sat down at the table. She had a steaming cup when it was ready, then went back upstairs. She made the bed and straightened up the bedroom, then started for the bath and her shower. She turned at the quick pad-pad of bare feet in the hallway.
A pajamaed Penny entered the bedroom, still rosy from sleep. The girl's shining black hair stood spikily over half her small head like a rakish halo, and her usual happy-go-lucky expression was sweetly serious. "Hi, mother." she said almost shyly. "I wondered-that is-are you still mad at me?" The final words tumbled out in a rush.
"Of course not, darling," Valerie said warmly. She held out her opened arms, and her youngest daughter sprinted across the intervening space between and flung herself into them, her sturdily fleshed, sleep-warmed young body moving Valerie backward a step. Valerie hugged her tightly, then dropped a hand and stroked Penny's pajama-clad bottom. "Any spank-marks, dear?" she asked lightly.
"I didn't look this morning," Penny admitted. She moved back a step, turned around, skinned down her pajama-bottoms, and presented her gleaming white backside for her mother's inspection. Valerie stared at the plump, wide-spanned, milk-white hind cheeks she had last seen galloping in scarlet agitation on Mark's knees. "How does it look?" the girl inquired.
"Unblemished," Valerie assured her. She sighed as Penny pulled up the pajama-bottoms. "You really don't have a fifteen-year-old-looking bottom, dear."
"That's what the boys say," Penny giggled.
Valerie smiled involuntarily, but cautionary maxims trembled at the tip of her tongue. She checked them momentarily. She knew that Penny, an indifferent scholar in contrast to Ethel's quick-minded absorption of lessons, had recently had her school horizons brightened immeasurably by her sudden discovery of boys. Valerie felt a sympathetic ache as she considered her daughter's bright-eyed inexperience. The greatest truism in the world seemed to be that the older generation couldn't live the younger's mistakes for them.
"Mother?" Penny said on an inquiring note.
"Yes, dear?"
"May I ask you a question? About-about yesterday?"
"Certainly," Valerie said steadily although she felt she knew what was coming. "Ask away."
Her brown-eyed daughter's young face had seldom looked more serious. "Why didn't you tell me about what men and women did so I wouldn't have been so-so surprised? I mean that it made you and Mark feel so good and wasn't-wasn't nasty like the girls make it sound?"
"Let's sit on the bed for a moment," Valerie suggested. They sat down side by side and Valerie slipped an arm around Penny's waist. "Now, darling," she began, "I probably should have told you, except that a parent is always afraid that if she makes something sexual sound too attractive, her little girl is likely to rush right out and try it with the first boy who comes down the street."
"And have a baby?" Penny smiled.
"Exactly. We're living in a permissive age, but society isn't prepared yet to be that permissive to the female of the species."
"I know three girls at school who are pregnant now," Penny said casually.
The remark jolted Valerie, but she tried not to show it. "It's certainly unfortunate that they are, because it can change their whole lives before they are able to make any decisions themselves."
Penny sat silently for a moment. "I guess what I really want to ask you, mother." she resumed, "is if you think it will be as nice for me when I'm married as it is for you and Mark?"
Valerie hesitated. "If you find someone as nice as Mark," she qualified the remark she had been about to make. "You're a little young to be thinking about it this soon, dear, but in a couple of years each boy you meet you should put through a screening process. You should ask yourself is this the boy with whom I want to live for the rest of my life? See his face on the next pillow every morning? Raise his babies? Minister to his ego as well as his sex drives? Wash his underwear? Sideline many of your own preferences in favor of his?"
Penny was listening intently. "But if-" "Let me say one more thing, darling, and then you can ask what you like." Valerie paused to marshal her thoughts. "All parents live for their children, Penny, but they must also live for each other. Children overlook the fact that parents were together before there were children, and in the normal course of events they will be together long after the children have gone off to school or in marriage. If the parents don't maintain their own intimacy, they have nothing left when their families are gone. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" "I think so, mother." "Then what did you want to say?" Penny fastened her serious-looking brown eyes upon Valerie's. "But how can I tell when it's the right boy, mother?"
Valerie tightened the arm around her daughter's roly-poly waist. "If I had the answer to that, dear," she said with a little laugh, "I'd be a millionairess. Unfortunately we females are made so that we respond to all boys in some degree. The trick is the business of finding the boy who turns our constant sexual spark into a steady flame."
Valerie turned her head so that her face was inches from her daughter's. "At a party, Penny, two or three different boys might do this in a kissing game-" She pressed her lips upon her daughter's, gently at first, then more persistently. She darted her tongue between Penny's lips, searching out Penny's tongue and probing the girl's warm mouth. "And this, if you permit it," Valerie continued, breaking the mouth contact momentarily while she unbuttoned the two top buttons on Penny's pajama jacket.
Valerie resumed the kiss while her hand slipped inside the gaping jacket and cupped a warm, soft, bare breast. A shiver rippled through Penny's chubby flesh. Valerie cuddled the breast, playing with the nipple until its rosy peak stiffened in her palm. Penny whimpered softly although Valerie's mouth was once again fused upon her own. Valerie fondled her daughter's bare bubby which seemed to grow larger in her palm.
"Or this-" Valerie said, breaking off the mouth contact again as she undid the girl's pajama jacket entirely. Valerie lowered her head and plunged her mouth upon Penny's hardened pink nipple, licking at it and sucking it. Her daughter's knees jerked abruptly, but Valerie lipped whole portions of the tip-tilted full breast into her mouth and worked it around inside.
"Oooooooooo!" Penny breathed.
Valerie dropped a hand upon the girl's pajama-clad thigh and speedily moved it to her thinly protected crotch, damp to the touch. Valerie traced the outline of the girl's chubby-lipped sex-furrow and then probed lightly at the squirming girlish cunt-hole while electric shocks ravaged her daughter's flesh as Valerie's mouth teased the round breast.
"Ohhhhhhhh, m-mother!" Penny gasped.
Valerie released her thoroughly titillated mouth-prisoner and sat up. Her hand still rested between Penny's thighs, but slackly. "Almost any boy can make you feel like that if you give him the opportunity, darling," she said soberly. "That's why it's so important to try to be sure it's the right boy before you let him."
Penny lowered her head upon Valerie's shoulder where her rapid breathing tickled Valerie's neck. "But how can you t-tell, mother? If it all feels so good?"
"Judgment is involved, dear," Valerie said. "But I think you can see now that the judgment needs to be applied before the situation becomes that critical."
"Boy, I'll say so," Penny murmured, then kissed her mother's neck. "Why does my stomach hurt now?"
"Because I was a pig and got you all stirred up without giving you any real relief," Valerie answered. She looked at the top of her daughter's shiningly black-haired head on her shoulder, started to say something, hesitated, then started again. "Penny-" she began, then paused.
Penny raised her brown eyes to Valerie's. "Yes, mother?"
Valerie put second thoughts aside. "Let's be naughty, dear," she said briskly. "Run over and lock the bedroom door."
Startled, Penny gazed at her mother questioningly for a second, then smiled delightedly. The girl slipped from the bed and trotted to the door which she locked. Valerie rose and removed her robe and gossamer nightgown. Penny returned to the bed and eyed her mother's womanly, full-curved nudity standing beside it. "Gee, mother," the girl sighed, "you have the most beautiful behind. No wonder Mark likes to play with it." Her voice was hushed. "What are we going to do?"
"Play," Valerie answered. "Skin out of your jammies, dear." When Penny complied, Valerie took her daughter's plumply dimpled nakedness into her arms. Their bare bellies rubbed gently, and Valerie brushed her own large breasts against Penny's smaller ones. Her hands fondled Penny's firm-fleshed but yielding hind cheeks, and after a moment Penny's hands came down and timidly stroked her mother's agreeably spacious broad-gauged nude seat. "Anything you like, dear," Valerie murmured against Penny's ear. "Do anything you like."
"Can I ask you a question first?"
"Ask away."
"When you're on your back, like-like yesterday, and Mark is on top of you, don't you feel squashed?"
"Here," Valerie said, taking her daughter's arm and moving her toward the bed. "Stretch out. On your back." Valerie advanced on her knees across the bed, spread Penny's round thighs, and lowered her own weight upon her daughter until the two rounded stomachs flowed together. "There. Do you feel squashed?"
"No," Penny said in a surprised tone. Valerie wriggled slightly on her daughter's soft body until she felt her own blond body-hair rubbing against Penny's thick-curled black moss. "Ooooh, boy!" the girl exclaimed. "Our pussies are touching, mother!"
"I want to show you something about your pussy," Valerie said, raising herself from Penny's body and then sitting beside her. "Lift up your legs, darling, and keep them apart."
Valerie fingered the disclosed pouting-lipped pink incision in its black-haired, cloistered retreat while Penny's upraised legs quivered. Valerie moved closer again between the parted thighs while she searched out her daughter's humid cuntal orifice with a fingertip and inserted it gently. She worked the fingertip back and forth and around and around, and it slipped in farther. "Does it hurt, dear?" she asked.
"Not-really," Penny answered in a strained voice. "Mother, I'm afraid I'm going to pee!"
"You won't," Valerie said confidently. "Just relax, dear."
She wormed her finger still farther inside Penny's clinging sheath until her knuckles widened the pouting moist lips and her fingertip fetched up against a resisting membrane. Penny flinched, and Valerie withdrew the finger. "That's your hymen, dear," she said quietly. "Your maidenhead, which you'll have until the first time a boy puts his prick into you. It usually hurts the first time, but seldom after that."
"They told us about it in school, but I never really knew where it was," Penny murmured. "And I hate to ask questions when everyone seems to know so much except me."
"The other girls probably have very little more knowledge than you, if that," Valerie returned. "That's how a girl gets into trouble later by not asking questions when she has a chance."
"Well, I know a boy's thing makes babies in a girl," Penny said defensively. She raised her head to see Valerie's face. "Will everything Mark did to you yesterday make a baby in you, mother?"
"It's entirely possible, Penny," Valerie answered, and was surprised at how much she welcomed the thought. "I'm not on the Pill."
"Some of the girls at school are," Penny said. "They sneak their mothers'. One girl's mother gives her her own bottle. Gee, wouldn't it be nice to have a little baby here at home?"
Her tone was so wistful that Valerie laughed. "Just so you leave it to me to have it." she warned with a playful spank upon an upraised, dimpled hind cheek. "Now let me show you something else."
She reached in between Penny's widened legs and separated with two fingers the upper range of the girl's folded-together salmon fissure until the tiny pink-budded clitoris appeared. Valerie massaged it with the forefinger of her other hand, lightly at first and then with increasing pressure. Penny's breath whistled and her round bottom climbed from the bed. "Ohhhhhhh, mother!" she cried out. Her face turned scarlet and her legs strained upward. "Mother! I'm-oooh!-you're-aieee!-Mother! I'm-ohhhhhhhhhh-h-h!"
Valerie waited until the fluttering spasms and aftermath sighs had subsided, then touched her daughter's sex-flesh again to verify additional lubrication. "Surely you've felt that before, Penny?" she asked.
"Only when I turn over on my stomach and rub myself," Penny said, then blushed at the admission. "And I can't make it happen every time." She looked at her mother curiously. "Is that what you like so much when Mark-when Mark goes to bed with you?"
"That's part of it," Valerie said. "And it's best with a man like Mark. A strong man who knows how to give pleasure to a woman. Wait here a moment."
She went into the master bedroom's bathroom and soaked a washcloth in warm water, then returned with it and a hand towel to the bedroom. She washed Penny's oozing coral-colored sex-crevice gently while the girl wriggled uneasily, then patted it dry. She wanted Penny to feel clean for what came next. "You make me feel like a four-year-old, mother," the girl protested.
"You had the fattest little slit I've ever seen on a four-year-old," Valerie told her calmly. "All my girl friends used to take turns kissing it."
"Mother!"
"It's true. Whenever they dropped into the kitchen and I was bathing you." Valerie wadded up the washcloth inside the towel and discarded both on the floor. She moved in between Penny's legs again, still widened but resting laxly on the bed. Valerie tapped a thigh. "Lift them up, dear."
Obediently Penny elevated her marble-white chubby thighs. Valerie sank down upon the girl until she was breathing warmly upon Penny's jet-black silken fleece, the rose-hued protective cunt-lips right under her mouth. She darted her tongue along the yielding flesh-fissure, then probed with it. "Ooooooooooh!" Penny squealed. "Ohhhhhhhhh, m-mother!"
Valerie licked and tongued the fresh-smelling young cunt, her own mounting excitement creating a sympathetic moistness between her own tightly clenched thighs. Penny's legs clamped around Valerie's head as Valerie took quick, nipping mouthfuls of her daughter's pouting pussy and worried it. "Ohhhhhhhhh!" the girl gasped in exquisite delight as the fiery tongue wriggled into her hole and thrust forcefully up her sex-channel. "Ooooooooooh!"
Valerie raised her head slightly and worked her mouth over the girl's dewy chasm until the protective lips parted and she flirted with Penny's clitoris with the tip of her tongue. Penny's plump buttock-flesh quivered in her zestful agitation, and Valerie grazed the clit-bud with her teeth. "Aieeeeeeee!" Penny keened, and her stomach began jerking. "I'm-I'm-Ohh! I'm-" The girl couldn't form a sentence between exhilarated cunt-clutching orgasmic tremors. "Ohhh-h-h-h-h!" she moaned softly in an expiring sigh as her legs slackened.
Valerie tongued Penny's girlish spend from her lips as the girl raised her head. "Did you ever do that with Ethel, mother?" she wanted to know.
"Never," Valerie said firmly.
"Why not?"
Valerie hesitated. "I shouldn't say this, probably, but I never feel I can trust Ethel. About things like this, I mean. I just believe she'd try to turn it to her own advantage. Whereas you, you little dumpling-" Valerie squeezed a round breast lightly, "It's our special secret, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes," Penny confirmed eagerly. The girl scrambled to her knees. "Let me do you like that, mother. I want to try it."
"All right," Valerie agreed. "But it's tiring on the neck in that position until you've had a little practice. I'll move to the edge of the bed and you kneel between my legs."
They made the necessary arrangements, and Valerie went down on her back and raised her parted legs. Penny gazed with awe at her mother's upthrust ragged-lipped stout-looking soft pussy in its golden-haired whorl before lowering her young face upon the target. The girl licked experimentally at Valerie's cunt-hole, then raised her head to test the residue on her tongue. "You taste-funny, mother," she pronounced.
"You'll learn to love it dear," Valerie said dreamily.
Penny plunged her mouth firmly upon her mother's yielding sex-spot again and did her best to emulate her teacher. Valerie smiled tolerantly for a moment at the passionately amateurish efforts, then her smile faded as the hard-working young lips and mouth ignited her. Her hips moved upward subtly, then forcibly. She reached downward to seize her daughter's dark head and hold it tightly between her own legs. Her breath caught in her throat as she sought to speak. "That's-wonderful, Penny, delightful-Ohhh, you dear!-delight-ohhh! You darling! You darLINNNNNG! Ohhhh, I'm -I'm coming!"
Her hips bucked furiously as she came, and it was another moment before she released her daughter's head pinioned between her thighs. Penny rubbed at her ears gently. "Boy, you really take hold, mother, don't you?" she said in half-protestation. Then she smiled. "But I did you, didn't I?"
"You certainly did," Valerie said. "Come here and let me show you a refinement."
She arranged the girl over her own body so that Penny's head was above Valerie's groin and Penny's wide-spreading young buttocks were over her mother's face. Valerie reached up and slapped a glistening globe. "Go to work down there," she said as she pressed with her hands until her daughter's hairy little pussy descended upon her mouth. As she aimed her tongue at it Valerie could feel Penny's quick tongue employed down below.
For five minutes the only sound in the bedroom was the soft-slurping tongues as they worked for a moment, rested, then busied themselves again. When Valerie was sure neither of them was going to come again, she called a halt. Penny climbed off her, switched ends, and snuggled herself into Valerie's arms. "Gee, mother," she sighed, "You know all kinds of games, don't you?" The tip of her tongue cleansed her greasy lips. "It does taste better." She looked at Valerie questioningly. "What else can we do?"
"Nothing, you little glutton," Valerie laughed. "For now," she amended it upon seeing Penny's disappointed expression. "Your sister is due home shortly from her tennis lesson. We both have to get dressed."
Penny stretched in catlike contentment, rubbing her taut-nippled breasts against her mother's elegantly sculptured large bosom. "I think I'm jealous, mother," the girl announced. "You can do this, and then you have Mark, too. Gee, when we were in the closet and his enormous thing was going in and out of your pussy like a -like a jackhammer, I got so wet I could hardly stand myself."
"In about two or three years we'll find you a boy, dear," Valerie promised. "A boy as nice as Mark." She pinched a soft thigh. "Scoot, now and remember, mum's the word."
"Mum's the word," Penny echoed with a giggle.
The girl climbed from the bed, slipped into her pajamas, went to the door and unlocked it, and pitter-patted down the hallway.