Chapter 12
It was at least a week after the Woodbridge party and Arnold had been settling in at Southampton, getting in the groove of home life.
What astonished him mostly was the magnificent flowering of Anita. Something had obviously happened to the heavenly little chick, with, her green eyes and enchanting rump.
She seemed to have lost the halo of innocence that was her chief quality before. She had, of course, the purity of the young, but a touch of sophistication had altered her in some subtle way.
And Arnold, always the shrewd observer of the human scene, couldn't help notice the glances that went on between his son Bert and Anita. The glance had nothing behind it but a bawdy time in the bedroom.
Arnold's first feelings were a cold anger at Bert for exploiting a captive bird in the house, but later, he considered that a roistering cocksmith like Bert could scarcely handle the temptation of sweet Anita's butt in a daily parade around the house. The boy was only human, even though he was eighteen.
Well, Arnold thought-with the philosophic calm that was his distinctive trait in a world where he had cynically come to expect that people ultimately behaved wickedly-if Anita had to lose her virtue, where better than under his roof?
There was no point in expecting Bert to behave like a monk when a juicy little cunt like Anita romped around him most of the day and night. The kid was horny and had a horrendous sex drive, as Arnold knew, for he was a chip off the old block. Arnold remembered with clarity his own adolescence, and the time he had chastened his relentless hards that kept happening to him, day and night, especially in the neighborhood of nubile maidens.
What struck him particularly about the new Anita was the way that she looked at him, Arnold, as if seeing him differently from before. Before, her look was that of a childish adoration for the protective uncle.
Now, her look was of a maiden at a man who she found provocative. She had become a sexy little minx, even though she radiated a lot of innocence. She had the curious blend of looking like an innocent sixteen-year-old with the ageless sophistication of a female who has discovered the delicate pleasures of sex.
She had become keenly interested in photography, and he told her he would get her a Nikon soon. When he indicated that he would be driving into New York on Saturday she asked if it might be a good time to get the camera, and that she'd love to come in with him.
So she hopped into the Continental alongside him, and they drove into town, to Peerless, where he picked up a Nikon and a roll of film for her.
She was tickled to death with her new toy, and wanted instantly to get around for some shooting.
They went into the park and the zoo, where she aimed her camera at the great tiger with his black and orange stripes, and his great balls, and that ferocious face.
He looked the epitome of the carnivorous male, and somehow that fascinated Anita. She found such males very interesting, and to her mind, of course, Arnold fitted into such a picture. He was, to her, like that tiger, mature, fully grown, tough, scarred from the wars, and a super-ball carrier.
Naturally, she didn't say anything of this to him, for she couldn't help feeling a touch shy in his presence. He was her mysterious uncle, the whiz kid whose exploits made family history. But she had a lot of private thoughts about him, and often wondered what kind of sex he and Mona had. She had been looking more closely at his body, at the way his meat bunched up in his pants, and it made goose pimples on her skin. In her bolder moments, she even visualized him in an erotic scene with her, bending over breasts, kissing them. She could see herself, in fact, caressing his cock, and felt wild tingles in her pussy.
It was strange that she could feel such a wild surge of sex for an older man, but this was the fact. She never dreamed however that he would show any interest in a kid like her, so she stayed low-key in her fantasies.
They were out near the Plaza, and it was a very gay scene with the flags flying, the Victorian coaches and their picturesque coachmen, and Fifth Avenue, with its fashionable shops. It was a lovely summer day, and people were in a sunny mood as they paraded up and down the Avenue.
Everyone looked delightful to her, and it didn't take long for her to shoot her film.
Then Arnold took her to the Auto Pub, where they had lunch, during which they drank some liquor. The low, intimate lights, and the amusing automotive decor, and the gin and tonics all did a lot to unloosen Anita.
"I never thanked you enough, Arnold, for taking me into your home. For taking care of me," she said fervently.
"It was the right thing to do, honey," he said, thinking that the family, in the person of Bert was more than just taking care of her. He had probably launched her into the world of love, the little selfish bastard. Arnold wondered if he had copped her cherry, thinking that he undoubtedly had. He visualized the scene, for he had a very active erotic imagination, and the picture of Bert piercing Anita's tight virginal pussy, and the pleasure of splitting the hymen gave him a real spasm of jealousy and lust.
She was no longer virginal, and therefore, there was no further point in playing the role of the protector. Obviously, there was nothing to protect. And since she had already tasted the delights of copulation, Arnold decided, she should expand her frontiers with a man of the world, such as himself.
Looking now at the glowing green eyes, the shape of her tits, the luminous youth of her white skin, and that totally delicious young mouth, Arnold went into a sensual tizzy. The fumes of alcohol in his brain let loose the tiger in him, and he decided to take the plunge.
His office on Park Avenue, just a couple of blocks away, was practically deserted on Saturday, and a great scene for seduction.
"I have to get a few things together at my office, so well go there, Anita," he said, calling for the check.
As anticipated, the office was deserted, and his own superbly decorated private office was indeed a charming background for bawdy goings-on. It had a Picasso on the wall, a thick blue rug, handsome furniture, and a marvelous wide lounge which he could convert to a bed if he wanted to relax or stay over in the city.
He fixed a couple of gins and they sat together, sipping the booze, after he went through the motions of collecting some papers.
"You must lead a fascinating life, Arnold, with your trips to the great cities of the world."
"It can get boring. Traveling has its hassles," he said. "But at times it can be amusing." The picture of the harem experience slid into his mind, and he smiled.
She picked up the expression, and like any canny female, understood it as sexual. "I suppose you meet all sorts of exciting women. And they throw themselves at you,"
"Why would they do that?" He smiled at her.
"Because they would see you as a very fascinating man."
"Do you see me as that?"
"Of course. Any woman would."
He grinned. "Well, you're not quite a woman."
Her expression went a touch wicked. "Well, I'm not quite a girl, either."
He sipped his drink, looking at the way her tight slacks followed the sensual contours of her hips. She had a fabulous body, on its way to maturity, and if he were clever he could have it nude in this office very shortly. The idea started a hardening in his cock, and it spelled doom for the delicious Anita.
"No, I suspect that you aren't a girl anymore. You have probably gone-past that tender time of innocence."
"Just between us, Arnold, innocence is boring. Innocence, in my opinion, is just inexperience, and that can be so terribly dull. I believe that a girl should open herself to life and to experience. As the poet says, 'time is flying.' "
He had to laugh, for in her subtle way, it seemed she was making a pitch for a passionate move.
"Would you like to open yourself to my experience?"
Her green eyes glittered with a sudden sex fire at the thought of Arnold in an erotic tangle with her, him nude. His cock and balls, nude, right here with her. Her cunt went moist with the juices of love at the image.
She stood up and walked to the window to look down on Park Avenue at the flow of cars, but she knew that the slacks were tight around her buttocks, and she moved them provocatively so that he would get his answer.
His eyes lustfully followed the movement of sexy butt, and that tipped him over.
He followed her, his cock hard in his pants, and moved close behind her as she looked down, pressing his hard cock against the crevice of her ass.
She never flinched one bit; in fact, she moved back as if to be closer to that super-load of flesh, thrilling to its tremendous hardness. It was the subtle signal that he needed, and Anita was no longer his little niece, but a woman, a young girl, a sex prey, someone to undress, to caress, to pierce, to have carnal fun with.
He put his arms around her waist and brought his hands up to her breasts, holding them firmly in his palms. The shock of her delicious tits in hands really turned him on. Everything about this experience seemed to have double intensity.
She put her hands on his hands, and pressed them firmly, so that he could feel through her thin shirt the nipples erect and hard. It pained him almost to leave the warmth of her butt to turn her to him, to bring up the exquisite young face, the lips like young spring leaves, to his mouth for kissing.
There was springtime to her breath, to the freshness of her lips, and when her mouth opened so that its tongue came forth, there was the touch of fire when he brought his own tongue out.
They kissed again and long, their bodies pressing fiercely together while the passions built high, then he opened her shirt to grab the bare pear-shaped breast in his mouth.
Over and over, each time that he made contact with her flesh, the impact of her youth hit him with overpowering excitement. The silken smoothness of her breast, the honeyed taste of her nipple, the flawless shape of it as his mouth in its greed tried to engulf it all.
He got off her shirt, and went for both breasts, moving from one to the other, as if he could never get enough for his mouth and tongue, and then he unzipped her slacks and pulled them down with the panties.
She stepped out of them, and there she stood nude, a nymph of exquisite design, round white arms, shapely legs, a sensual curve of hip, and then golden hair sheltering the pink pussy.
She's the epitome of the springtime of sex, he thought, and I aim autumn. For she was sixteen and he was in his forties.
We men of forty deserve such feasts on occasion, he thought, to fire up the dulling flesh. He carried her to the big lounge, and stopped for a few moments to strip.
The size and power of his cock hypnotized Anita. It was something a bit with the contours of cock that she remembered with Bert, but a more prodigious thing. The cock in its maturity-fierce, thick-muscled, with pumping veins and the helmet-like head.
Anita's throat ached for it, but as a young girl she understood that she could not be aggressive. She had to wait for him, and follow his lead, even though her urge was to stuff his great cock into her mouth, to suck on it.
Arnold took her palm and put it under his cock, watching the hand close automatically around the meat and press it firmly. The heat of his cock and the hard muscle seemed heavenly to her touch, and she went almost shaky in the knees. He pressed his hard chest against her bare breasts, enjoying their plump flesh.
He laid her down on the lounge, spread her thighs, and brought his head to her golden pussy, the pink scarlet lips moist with the elixir of love. He spread the lips apart, and put his mouth against the flesh, snaking his tongue into the moist warmth. He found the taste of her flesh delicious, and his tongue started a staccato of motion, darting in and out of her cunt, hitting the clit over and over.
He glanced up over her flat tummy and her swelling breasts to her face, in a transport of ecstasy, as the tempo of his tongue thrusts increased, and she went off, her cunt quivering frantically with a poignant and painful ecstasy.
She held his head fiercely against her cunt, as if she wanted him never to leave that spot of pleasure.
She groaned and twisted her body as spasms of joy racked her. And Arnold, aware that now she was ready for anything, brought his bristling, big cock up to her mouth.
She grasped it greedily, and brought it into her mouth, down into his throat, her tongue caressing it like dynamite. She was in the throes of a sizzling passion, and she craved his cock deep inside her. She would, if she could, swallow the monster, so precious was its taste, its smell, its me hardness, its oral delight.
She came out for a breath of air, then along its muscled shaft, went down to the balls, licked them, took each into her mouth, tenderly loving them with her tongue, then went back up to the head of his cock, pulling on it, sucking it and licking it and fluttering her tongue under it.
Arnold looked down at her in amazement, at her sweet innocent sixteen-year-old face, all fresh beauty and innocence, yet working on his cock with all the finesse of a seasoned hooker.
Where had she acquired such cocksucking skill? Her innocence, then, was just a visual illusion, for since she had come to his house, apparently, she had discovered the delights of cocksucking, and developed master skills.
She aroused such a flood of pleasurable sensations that there was nothing left for him to do but stay in that oral pit of pleasure until the finale of cum.
So he took gentle hold of her head and started a slow and steady thrust in and out of her mouth, which she met with flawless rhythm.
He was sitting on her breasts now, holding his head, pushing deep into her throat with his prodigious tool. He felt it swelling, as the juice started its agony-ecstasy trip through his shaft, exploding in her mouth, spurting one load of cream after another. And she struggled to keep up with it, trying to swallow it.
He pulled his cock out of her mouth, for she f' needed a moment or she would gag, and the cream still covered his tool. She took one deep breath, then took his cock back to her lips and licked it off clean, her face in an absolute agony of delight.
She's either a born cocksucker or Bert has taught her brilliantly, Arnold thought. And he slumped down alongside her to rest, exhausted by the intensity of the experience.
They lay there close together, their bodies pressed tightly, their eyes closed.
Then Arnold, feeling that it would not be discreet to spend more time at the office, decided to pursue her pussy at home, where the pressures were less. And more than that, he could use the rest.
On the way back, driving in the evening dusk, he was silent, letting the music from the stereo fill the car.
Then she spoke, and her voice was small. "Are you disappointed in me, Uncle Arnold."
Because she had some fear, she used the word uncle, formalizing the relationship.
He took her hand and squeezed it. "Why would you think such a strange thing?"
"I don't know. You're very quiet. And perhaps you think I have too much experience for a young girl?"
"I see that you can be quite silly."
"What do you mean?"
"I find you totally adorable. And I think it's marvelous that you have such sexy skills. It can only increase the pleasure. Nothing is so tiresome as a clumsy, inexperienced bed companion."
She brightened. "Then you enjoyed it?"
"Pure joy," he said, gripping her hand, then putting it over his cock in his pants.
"That, too, is pure joy, Arnold," she said passionately.
"Listen, when we get home, naturally, our behavior will be very correct. But tonight, around two, I'll pay you a visit. After all, Anita sweet, we haven't yet fucked. There are other charming games to be played."
"I look forward to that," she said fervently.
The traffic was thin, and he could spend a long moment staring at her marvelous young beauty, and congratulating himself for his luck.
While he could appreciate a beautiful and mature woman, still, Arnold thought, there could be nothing to duplicate the delight of fucking young dolls. They were a marvelous turn-on. They made a man feel twenty years younger, as if contact with the youthful flesh was a blissful contagion.
Who was that old man in the Bible who needed a young virgin to heat up the fires in him, to unchill his old flesh? It had much truth to it. And how stupid, Arnold thought, were the taboos against love between the old and the young. They should pass laws that insisted a young doll or stud should spend some time with the older generation in sexual coupling, just for its vitalizing powers.
All sorts of taboos spoiled the pleasures of life, Arnold thought, even such as uncle and niece. What possible harm could come from such coupling? The concept of incest had collapsed with the invention of contraception. Pregnancy no longer had any viable connection with copulation. Copulation, Arnold thought was a game. Pregnancy was a serious family decision.
At any rate, Arnold felt no guilt about his fuck with his niece, and contemplated future sex with lustful pleasure.
Just before they readied the house, she reached over and kissed his cheek. "We had such fun this afternoon," she whispered.
She was really a marvelous sex kitten, Arnold thought, and considered himself lucky.