Chapter 18

"No," Ella said soberly, "I don't want to look." There was another long silence then, "You want to feel?"

"You're too far away."

"Oh."

"In fact, if you're not careful you just might fall out of bed," she added.

After a moment of silent thought John edged a few inches inboard from the edge of the king-sized bed.

"That's better," Ella said, "but you're still too far away for me to reach you."

"Do you want to?" She could sense the effort it cost him to make this daring statement

"I don't know," she said feigning indecision. "I guess it depends on whether you want to reach me."

"Sure do." It sounded like a young Gary Cooper.

Ella sighed. If he turned out not to have a cock this slow-witted boy was going to turn out to be a total loss. And she only had two more hours ... She decided to give it a final try. "Well, by this time you must know where I am."

There were sounds of furtive movement as the boy edged closer and then finally she felt a timid hand come from his direction. The hand touched her arm and immediately retreated. "You'll have to do better than that" Ella encouraged. This time two hands came across the bed. One found her arm and the other landed squarely atop one bra-clad tit. The hand on her tit retreated as if burned. She lay quiescent. In a moment it came stealing back. "Golly," he muttered. "I bet you do."

"Do what?"

"It."

"What's if?"

There was another moment of silence then the hand that had encountered an arm came exploring. Soon there was a hand over each nylon-clad tit. "You want to fuck?" he asked boldly.

Ella struggled not to laugh. "Actually, I'd been planning on sleeping," she bed, "but it's very relaxing. Perhaps it might help me get to sleep."

"It is?"

"Well," she explained, "there's not much chance of me getting to sleep until you do and I suspect you want to do it much worse than I."

"Yeah," the boy said. From his glum tone she knew he was expecting refusal. And in her bed, with a hot little hand on each tit! Ella wondered if she had ever been this young, this naive.

"Do you know what to do?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Would you buy a used car without kicking the tires and looking under the hood?" she asked. "Huh?"

Ella was reminded of a German classicist who once observed that "Against stupidity even the gods strive in vain." She wondered how men ever found the patience to deal with the "dumb blonde" so prevalent in masculine-oriented literature.

Yet perversely she felt a fascination with this willing but slow-witted boy. This, she supposed, must explain the male preoccupation with virginity. A girl totally without experience was usually a total washout as a sexual partner. Yet men were hung up on a tiny membrane which was more nuisance than anything eke. What was so wonderful about straining and hurting one's cock to tear a tiny fold of skin?

Ella was not going to break any cherry with this boy-not unless there were something about boys she had never learned. But she was fascinated with the role of teacher. It gave her an opportunity to impose her total will on the tabula rasa of an unformed sexuality. As long as his hard-on held out Ella knew this boy would do exactly what she told him. She could gratify her most secret, most sinful desire. There was only one problem: she didn't know what she wanted.

His hands still lay on her tits and she knew he was still afraid to even try to remove her bra. She wished now that she hadn't gone to bed. She should have greeted the boy fully clothed. That way he would have had time to get used to the idea. They could have played some variation on the old strip poker games that had figured so largely in the folklore of her virginal days. She remembered that she had put in a six o'clock call. She couldn't Be here all night waiting for this needful boy to screw up his courage.

"Can I look under the hood?"

Now what the hell was he talking about? Then abruptly Ella remembered her used-car metaphor. She sighed. Was he going to ask permission for everything? "In these matters," she explained, "silence is usually regarded as consent. If ever you do something you shouldn't I'll tell you to stop." And if you don't I'll give you a karate chop in a place you'll never forget.

The boy's hands had been absolutely still atop her nylon-clad tits, presumably on the assumption that if he were quiet enough she would not remember they were there. Now he began moving them, clumsily getting his first real feel of that lovely cock-stiffening superstructure that separates the men from the boys-as well as from the women.

This could go on all night, Ella knew. It might be hours before he screwed up the courage to feel her crotch and discover that she also wore panties. She doubled her legs and kicked mightily, sending top sheet and blankets in a tangled heap across the room.

"Oh wow!" the boy breathed as he saw the full-blown perfection of her body, still clad in yellow bra and matching bikini panties. Ella sneaked a glance .and saw the boy was clad in military style underwear several sizes too large.

"After you've undressed yourself I'll let you undress me," she said.

"Yeah?" She sensed that he was looking for the hidden catch in this offer. Just as she was ready to throw something at him, and him out the door, John finally resolved his doubts and began removing his tee-shirt and large boxer-shorts.

Ella didn't believe it. For eighteen years she had thought old Fred was magnificently endowed-until she had learned better when this dolt's quick-witted friend had filled her with flaming flesh and taught her what a boy could do if he had the equipment and some basic knowledge of how to use it.

But this slow-witted boy-She was reminded of one of old Fred's favorite sayings. He could be gross when he wanted to. Ella had never been able to break him of saying things like, "Big woman, big cunt; little woman, all cunt."

This boy, she suspected, made up m cock what he lacked in brains. It was, of course, in full rampant erection and she made allowances. But surely Mike's muffin-stabber had been expanded to full capacity on a few occasions-up her thrumming pussy and down her agonizing throat.

John's jock dwarfed even the varnished white ash of the tire club Mike had used to drive her nearly mad with frustrated desire while she drove through the snowstorm and he amused himself with his head in her naked lap. Ella wondered. She remembered how she had just known she could never take that blunt, wide-flanged club handle into herself-yet she had. Could she manage to contain this boy's horsesized hammer? She resolved to take him up to the hilt or die trying. How many chances like this would she get in a lifetime?

She had made a tactical mistake, Ella realized, for even this slow-witted a boy must be endowed with some imagination. By the time he had fumbled the hooks of her bra loose, by the time he had peeled her yellow bikini panties down far enough to unveil the luxuriance of her pubic triangle the boy would be so supercharged with excitement that he would never get it into her. She knew perfectly well that if he had "never done it" this boy was going to explode ignominiously, spray his precious seed all over the smooth curve of her belly. She should have just pulled her panties off, pulled his off, and pulled him on top of her before he could catch sight of the lovely vibrant vessel that nature had designed to catch his come.

Too late now, she philosophized. Anyway, boys of this age were jackrabbits. Maybe it was best to let him fire his first load in the air. A boy just growing his first beard could recover his hard-on in minutes and perhaps the second time he would not be quite so hair-triggered. The second time around maybe he could last long enough to get that prodigious prod into her and manage a couple of full-length strokes before his slow-witted imagination caught up with his cock and told him this was a real live woman, that he was actually fucking and-ooops!

His hands were fumbling with her bra, trying to peel it off her tits and over her head like a sweater. "Not that way," she murmured. There are some hooks behind." She was about to roll over and then realized that he would take hours even after he had found the hooks. With that peculiar motion which a man's totally different anatomical structure finds impossible, she reached between her shoulder blades and unfastened the bra. Even then it took the boy half an eternity to get the straps off her shoulders and down her arms. Finally he held the skimpy yellow bra in his hands, studying it like the holy relic of some lost civilization.

"It's only nylon cloth," Ella said. "The area of interest is down here where a real man would be kissing me by now."

"Ooooohhhh!" John said in tones of sudden understanding. He dived for the mountains on her chest and after some preliminary fumbling, slowly settled down to a workman-like Job of kissing his way around the base of her pectoral peaks, slowly circling toward the twin pinnacles where her aureoles were starting to tingle as her pink nipples slowly rose to an erection nearly as hard as the boy's cock.

Ella waited patiently, wondering if she was going to have to do it herself but finally the boy's hands snaked down her flanks and caught at the waistband of her smooth, snug-fitting bikini panties. She raised her ass to help him get them off and slowly the boy began kissing his way down her midriff until his nose was buried in the inviting crater of her navel. She reminded herself that the boy was a virgin and decided it would be wise not to draw him any closer to cunt country until he had gotten his bearings.

"Aaaaaaahhh!" the boy murmured.

At least he had gotten his lines right for once, Ella guessed. She moved her long milk-white thighs this way and that to help the boy get her panties the rest of the way off. Now she lay naked as the boy. She wondered if he would know what to do next.

Still kneeling beside her, still kissing her jutting fugs, the boy's hands began exploring her mons veneris-cautiously fingering each pinkish blond ringlet as if he had never felt hair before. His fingers dug into her bony prominence, exploring, feeling with increasing haste. Ella wondered what on earth he was up to. She remembered Sherlock Holmes' technique of putting himself in the criminal's mind. Now why would a virgin boy be poking and digging his fingers that painfully into a part of her body which was nothing but a bony ridge surmounted by hair? It made as much sense as probing an eyebrow. Damn itl He was digging so deep it was hurting.

Finally Ella thought she had worked it out. This boy was a throwback-a physical time machine from the days before any enterprising young man could buy whole magazines filled with nothing but photographs of nude women. She wondered where Mike had found him. The boy's total physical knowledge of women was from the crude stick figures boys used to draw on walls of girls-figures in which a woman had a vertical slit on the front of her body and a man with a tremendous erection walked toward her for a conjunction as physically satisfying as two cars colliding. She remembered apochryphal tales of dance halls where one could waltz about with a cock comfortably insulated by female flesh-as if such postures were possible!

But in this day and age? How could a boy surrounded by newsstands full of the most explicit pictures be so totally ignorant of female anatomy? His fingers still crept through her frontal triangle with increasing desperation and Ella could read his mind. The boy couldn't find her cunt. He was wondering if the whole business of fucking were not some colossal hoax on the order of snipe hunting or left-handed monkey wrenches. He'd had his heart set on fucking and here was a woman who didn't even have a cunt!

"You're looking in the wrong place," Ella murmured. "It's farther down, between my legs." And voicing his unspoken suspicion she added, "All girls are built that way."

The boy's hand slid off her bony triangle and moments later he was fondling, feeling, exploring and memorizing the pouting contours of her hairy vulva lips. She wondered how long it would take him to get around to opening them and putting an exploratory finger into the damp. But mostly, she wondered how, in nineteen hundred and seventy six, how could any boy be so unconscionably stupid?

When she was a girl, when nude pictures were-so rare as to be treasured and worn dog-eared from constant fondling-when even the most seductive picture had pubic areas retouched out to a hairless, featureless expanse of neutered nothingness-in those dear dead days it was understandable that a boy might be as ignorant as old Fred had been on her wedding night. But now?

"How long have you known Mike?" she asked.

Engrossed in exploring her crotch while still licking her tits, the boy's answer was nearly unintelligible. Finally she guessed he had said, "Couple of days."

Slowly a suspicion was growing in Ella. There was only one possible explanation for this boy's ignorance. Mike had picked him up on the road somewhere, had felt sorry for the boy and taken him under his wing. This boy was totally unprepared for life in this century. Where had he been all his sheltered life?

"What kind of work do you do?" Already Ella knew the answer. Still, she could feel a little frisson as hairs begin standing up on the nape of her neck. Talk about virgin boys! She had really hit the jackpot.

"Don't know," the boy's voice came muffled from his rooting in her tits. "Up to a couple of days ago I was going to be a priest."