Chapter 4
Downstairs, Marie kept busy doing whatever it was that maids do when the mistress wants them to keep out of the way.
The sun beamed down on the resort town as everywhere else, but sea breezes cooled it, gave it a cleansing air not found across the highway in the poor section where year-round residents lived in clapboard houses painted bright yellow and green or sometimes pink in an effort to display cheeriness, an effort that always turned drab after the first winter fog. In the resort area, next to the bay, all the houses were bright white and stayed that way and the weather was always cool, Rick already knew and understood the difference between the two halves of the town, but now he was learning another difference.
He was surprised at Mrs. Witherdine's directness, at how she seemed to see what she wanted and moved toward it in a straight, unwavering line. Probably, Rick thought, that was how she managed her fortune and kept it from dwindling, unlike so many widows left with their husband's fortune and no manager. But, Rick thought also, Mrs. Witherdine had probably always been direct, had probably always moved in a straight line toward what she wanted. No doubt that was how she had gotten Mr. Witherdine in the first place.
With the line of moisture lingering on herflips, she touched Rick's hand with her cool fingers. Her face, up close, was smooth from years of cream and lotion. Her bright, swift eyes calmed as she touched him, as she realized that he was going to be hers, but her voice remained direct as if she could not quite control it yet. "Follow me."
With her fingers still on his wrist, she led him into an adjoining room and closed the door. A large double bed waited, its spread turned back, its aqua-colored, satin sheets exposed. It was another four-poster, the posts carved in the same manner as the single bed in the office room, part of a set bought by the family a century ago at a rate exorbitant for 1875.
Mrs. Witherdine stopped Rick in front of a three-sided, full-length mirror, the same as might have been found in a department store except that this mirror had bevelled glass and the frame was mahogany.
She said quietly, "Would you mind if I see the merchandise?"
It bothered him to undress in front of her, with her standing there sizing him up as if he was a piece of hamburger in the. market or a mink coat on a rack. But he thought to himself that this was what he had decided to do, to hell with it, this was going to be his ticket to somewhere.
When he pulled his banlon shirt over his head, his thick blond hair fell back with a bounce. It was just long enough to be carefree. He smiled at his benefactress as he stepped out of his tennis shoes.
She watched him in the three mirrors, as well as in the flesh. She admired his white, even teeth, his strong and rich lips. She wanted to kiss his blue eyes.
He asked, "Do I have any of the same rights?"
"In due time."
His back rippled in two reflections as he unbuckled his belt, opened his pants and pushed them, shorts and all, down around his ankles.
Mrs. Witherdine saw the flash of his buttocks as he bent over, then he was standing totally naked, his feet bare, his lips serious but his eyes smiling.
She looked at his chest with its bare suggestion of hair. His skin was evenly tanned, without a blemish, and her eyes passed over his nipples and down his firm stomach to his belly button and Mrs. Witherdine could not stop her eyes anymore. It was as if she slowly was moving into an orgasm, as if waves were rising from' deep within her cunt, and finally she passed over the peak and could not stop herself anymore. Her eyes followed the thin line of hair from his navel, down to where it thickened and became his pubic hair and she looked at his crotch.
She was glad he was circumcised. His penis was excited but not yet erect; it hung long and hardening, as if Rick were swimming naked with his girl but had not quite begun fucking her yet. Mrs. Witherdine was pleased because her friend Mrs. Cruise had not misled her, Rick did indeed have a very nice cock.
She stepped into the range of the mirror with him. She touched his sides, dropped her hands to his hips. One hand circled his body, touched along the cheeks of his ass. She watched her fingers caress him in the mirror.
She dropped her other hand to his crotch, fingered his thick hair and circled the shaft of his cock and lifted it, sliding her hand to the swelling head. Her knees shook, slightly, under her long gown.
Rick thought of lifting her in his arms and carrying her to the bed, but decided instead to wait for her, to let her lead a while longer.
She found his balls and caressed them. As his prick began to stiffen, she gripped it, pulled on it, loosened her land and petted it with the tips of her fingers. It throbbed in her hand.
Touching the back of her neck, Rick leaned forward slightly, breathed in the aroma of her perfume, the creams and lotions rubbed into her skin, and brushed her lips with his own. He kept them there, then pulled her face closer and kissed her, tasting her lipstick with his tongue.
He never knew how she did it, but Mrs. Witherdine simply seemed to touch her left shoulder with one hand and her long gown separated over her collar bone and slid swiftly down between them to the floor.
Her skin was softer than that of any girl Rick had ever touched. Her breasts, pressed • against his body, seemed to fold back into her body. He could feel her hard nipples against him, but her breasts were soft and almost non-existent. He held her head with both hands as he kissed her mouth, as her hands rested lightly on his hips.
Then she stepped quickly away from him and walked toward the bed. He looked quickly at her body, and was pleased with what he saw.
As she turned away from him, he saw a thick fist of dark hair at her crotch, and above that a slight sag at her abdomen where she had carried three babies. Her legs were long and slim, tapered to firm ankles. Her ass had sagged more than her face, but, Rick thought, for God's sake, the woman was in her fifties. Her breasts were not as firm as they must have been at eighteen, but it was encouraging to Rick that the woman was as old as she was and still wanted to fuck, still yearned for fresh cock now and then. That meant to Rick that if he stayed the same, that if he could keep it up over the years, as apparently Mrs. Witherdine had managed to do, he had at least forty years of fucking stretched out before him. It was a fine thought, he imagined.
And right now, he said to himself, was the time to get to it.
He followed the naked woman to her bed, his cock bounding as his thigh§ pressed forward, but Mrs. Witherdine would not let him lie down beside her.
"Not yet," she said, her voice having lost all traces of directness, and having become the voice of a woman who wanted to be fucked. "Not yet, please. Wait, and watch."
The four pillows on the bed appeared to be so soft when Mrs. Witherdine sank her head on them that Rick knew they must be filled with goose down. Her hair bunched around her head. It was gray, but full and thick. She smiled gently at Rick, looked down his body again and to please her he turned like an athlete on a pedestal, his cock sticking out and up like a ramrod, his ass tight and firm.
She stretched full length on her satin sheets. Passing her palms over her breasts, she excited the nipples even more until they rose on their brown circles to thick points. Her hands kept moving down her ribs to her belly, into her crotch.
Rick watched her fingers slide over her inner thighs, pressing against her "flesh. She parted her legs and her fingers began to disappear into her vulva, easing like ten little pricks into the pink slit that opened further as she brought her knees up. Her fingers pressed inside the pink folds, touched her clit, began to slide inside.
She half-closed her eyes, then opened them again to feast on Rick's cock. He stood patiently, amused, learning. Mrs. Witherdine knew just what would make her come and Rick was patient enough to let her get to it. He wanted his cock in there in place of her fingers but if she preferred ten little ones to his one big one, that would have to be all right with him. She had bought and paid for him, or would as soon as she was finished, and Rick had no option except to keep his cock hard for her eyes.
As he watched her pleasing herself, he realized that she certainly had an advantage over younger girls. The young ones may have had bodies that still were firm and upright but many of the ones Rick had fucked had known absolutely nothing about what would make them come. Mrs. Witherdine had been over this route many times before and knew just what her physical needs were and, like everything else in her life, she went straight after it. She did not have to fiddle around like girls often did trying desperately to discover the right combination.
But Rick was young himself and he could not watch for long a woman masturbating herself without feeling himself being set on fire. His cock yearned to slide in after those fingers and he suddenly realized with gratitude that Mrs. Witherdine was brilliant. She had made him feel something he had not thought possible.
Even though Elizabeth Cruise had sucked him to a stand-still, Rick had not actually believed he would be able to perform at his best for a woman of Mrs. Witherdine's age. He had thought the sight of her fading body, her probably dry cunt, would turn him off.
But Mrs. Witherdine, by making him stand naked and watch her perform upon herself, had done the impossible. She had made him want her.
He would not have believed it possible before. He actually wanted her. He wanted to fuck her. Previously he had simply been doing his duty as part of his new profession as gigolo, but Mrs. Witherdine had treated him with such expertise that he wanted nothing more now than to get his cock as far up in her as he could to please both of them. Ile leaned toward. her slightly.
She recognized his feelings. With her voice coming from deep within the pillows, her fingers still probing her wet cunt, she asked, half whispering, "Will you fuck me?"
Before she finished the sentence Rick leaned over her to catch her breasts where they were pushed up between her upper arms. He sucked the hard nipple of the left tit between his teeth, then kissed her chest over to her other nipple and sucked it hard into his mouth. His hands found her belly button and he rested one hand lightly against her abdomen, the tips of his fingers barely skimming the top of her pubic hair.
Her fingers left her cunt and stroked his prick as he climbed onto the bed. Spreading her legs to accept him, she raised her cunt to press against his thighs as he rolled over her.
His mouth found hers and as his tongue stroked into her mouth he felt his balls being weighed in her hands and his cock being pointed forward and he felt her touch it against the moist lips of her cunt and suddenly, with only the slightest pressure of his hips, he was inside her.
Almost without reason or acknowledgment of it, Rick felt he had as suddenly slipped all the way into every forbidden woman in the world, his mother, his sisters, every older woman who had petted him as a child, his aunts, all the women as he was growing who had said they would have liked to have eaten him up. And as soon as the thought flashed through his mind it disappeared and he was in Mrs. Witherdine's cunt as far as he could reach and his balls were bumping blissfully against her ass.
She was strong inside and went directly for what she wanted. Her knees came up under Rick's arms and her thighs gripped him, stroked his waist as she pumped. She pumped hard, her mouth gasping, her orgasms coming almost instantly, one after another.
Rick's cock swelled, he shoved hard into her, and felt a wave of his own orgasm pass over him. He held onto it, though, as he felt her comings subside, as she settled down to a long, slow fuck if Rick could hold off long enough. He thought he could, and he wanted to, so he slacked off himself, drew his organ almost completely out of her slick, soaking cunt and let it rest a few seconds, the head still inside her, the shaft pumping and gorged with blood but under control, cooling and settling, as Mrs. Witherdine flexed her muscles and squeezed the head.
Rick lowered himself again, sliding slowly back into her.
Mrs. Witherdine rolled her head from side to side. She held onto Rick's ass with her heels, pulling him tighter against her loins. Reaching down between his legs, she found his balls and stroked them, fingered them, put her finger around the shaft of his cock where it disappeared into her soaking hole.
Rick spread his legs and took firm hold on the bed with his toes and his knees and the palms of his hands. He worked over her .as he had never worked over anyone. She was his ticket to stardom. He would do her better than he did Elizabeth Cruise, because Mrs. Witherdine was more important, could open so many more doors. His cock thrust far up her and she wriggled on it like he was pinning her to the bed, she fought it as nobody had ever fought his cock before.
It seemed to Rick that ripples passed over her body, starting at her crotch and working up to her scalp and back down. Up and down her body. He felt detached almost, as if he were merely an interested bystander, and he might have been able to detach himself completely except that an irresistible impulse began to gather in his thighs, in his lower abdomen, as if he were slowly being set on fire.
He thought it would be wonderful if he could spend the entire afternoon in Mrs. Witherdine's bed, always just on the verge of coming but not quite as Mrs. Witherdine writhed and gasped under him, her brain set afire by the cold, calculated actions of the cock thrusting far up inside her, the cock she had never seen mere minutes before and now was inside her private person turning her into an animal.
He sucked a fit into his mouth, the nipple hard and firm.
Quickly, without warning her, he grabbed her around her waist and rolled over with her riding his cock and he humped himself up into her. Her old arms circled his neck as if she might fall off the edge of the world if Rick let go. Her legs swung loose but rhythmically along his sides as he thrust her higher and higher, her ass wide open and swinging above him, rising and falling with the bursts of his body. Then he was as suddenly kneeling, holding her up by the cheeks of her ass, lifting her on and off his cock that still seemed to grow and stiffen, more and more, ,and Mrs. Witherdine's moan turned into sobs, a cry.
"Oh, Oh Oh Rick, Rick, Ricky, Ricky my baby, my baby, my man, fuck me hard, far up fuck me, Ricky; Oh, Oh." She held his head between both hands and sucked his tongue out of his mouth.
As he thrust his tongue far into her mouth, he laid her on her back again with his hands still pulling at the cheeks of her ass.
She pulled his hair and as far as Rick was concerned that did it. His fingers probed at her ass. He was in every orifice of her body and the burning sensation around his balls grew, burst out of control. His lower body was enflamed from his knees to his belly. The head of his cock swelled as he pumped and he began to come in short, hard, heavy spurts.
Mrs. Witherdine took it all, rode with him through his orgasm, gripping his head with her hands and his ass with her heels. As he finished she gripped his cock with her cunt muscles to milk the last of his come. She felt him sink against her, the weight of his body relaxing as his spasm passed.
"Oh, my God, she said at last. "Why didn't you tell me you could do that?" His prick was still inside her hot cunt, and she enjoyed the feel of it softening. She squeezed it again. "Your prick is fine, wonderful. You come so strong, so good."
Rick buried his face in her fits. He began to say, "It was a . . . " but found he was out of breath. In a moment he said, "It was a nice beginning."
Looking down at her, he did not think she seemed anymore like the strong, officious, direct woman he had encountered hardly half an hour before. She seemed more like a woman who had just been well fucked, satisfied. She had softened. She was more like a woman resting under her man, gathering her blood for another fuck. She reached under 'them to pet his balls again, then his ass and his back and shoulders.
Rick was surprised to find her cunt so full of juices. She had been as flowing, once she got started, as young Jane on the boat. She had been a finer fuck than Mrs. Cruise, who seemed to have some Pilgrim blood spoiling her from really and truly enjoying a young cock riding up, inside her. Mrs. Witherdine, being wealthy enough, could ignore all that and just enjoy it. Rick had not thought an old woman could summon such juice out of her loins, could enjoy fucking as much as Mrs. Witherdine obviously just had; he thought he still had a lot to learn about the very rich.
Just then a bell rang. Not a harsh warning bell, not one to jangle the nerves during or after a satisfying screw, but a soft, tinkling, gentle bell suggesting that there might be something else that needed doing.
Rick thought it meant that it was time for him to dismount, get off, but Mrs. Witherdine seemed to pay no attention at all to the bell, held him a little longer and kissed the side of his face.
Then, before he knew it, Rick found himself out of her, sitting upright on the bed beside her as Mrs. Witherdine wrapped a robe around her body and stood up. She passed a cool hand down his front to lift his limp but still long cock. It was slippery but drying fast. Mrs. Witherdine looked at it and felt a thrust of blood surge through it as it hinted at another rise.
"Thank you," she said. "Let me admit, Mr. Temple" -her voice had once again turned direct, officious, but this time there was a degree of acceptance in it -"Let me admit: at first, I thought you were going to be another one of those summer kids who get their rocks off at the very first touch of a cunt. Cod knows I've looked at enough and experimented with enough young bucks to know that most of you just get it in and move it back and forth a little and bingo, you hit the jackpot, you're coming and spilling over like an oil transport off the California coast."
She was unable to keep up her officiousness, however, and leaned over suddenly and sucked the long cock between her lips. She licked the head clean, slurped at the hardening shaft, then let it all go.
"I will be busy for the rest of the day. It's too bad. I scheduled some people. I didn't think I would like you this much." She walked toward the door that led to her office-bedroom-sitting room. She stopped before the three-way mirror and brushed her silver hair with a monogrammed brush, then walked to the door and opened it. Looking back at Rick, she said, "There is a bath in the adjoining room." She nodded toward another door. "Marie will be up shortly to help you, and she will show you out. I will call you again in a few days, but I will give you advance notice."
Rick sat on the bed, his hard-on in his lap. This old lady had really turned him on. He grinned at her with his best summery, cheerful, happy, promising smile and she blew him a kiss, then closed the door.
He flung himself back on the bed, sinking deep into her goose-down pillows. He pulled the top satin sheet up over his naked body, turned it down just over his cock, and lay with his hands behind his head. The world was going to be his oyster.
There was a soft rapping at the second door. Without waiting to be told she could enter, Marie came inside and stood at the foot of the bed. She looked at Rick's body as he lay in the mistress' bed and she noted the swelling under the sheets at his crotch. He grinned at her as if he would invite her to bite it if she wanted.
She grinned back. "You just tuck that in somewhere else, Mister Man. Don't you go bothering Marie with things she ain't going to have."
He spoke softly, but honestly. "It's yours if you want it." Rick had only fucked one black girl in his life, a coed at his college who had sworn she was a virgin as she was swallowing his cock. They had been lying on the campus lawn near each other, each studying their own books, and Rick had inched closer and closer to the girl and finally could reach her snatch with his bare foot and he set her on fire with his toes. She had rolled over finally and unzipped his pants and taken his cock in her mouth. The first words out of her when she let him go were, "I'm a virgin." Rick had promised to be gentle, then eased her into some bushes and slipped her pants off her dark brown hips. He had been incredibly excited at the sight of her very black, very thick and curly pubic hair and when she parted her legs he moved his lips down into the pink heady vulva and his tongue began to stroke softly, slowly across her clit until he had her on fire again and then his cock went into her as if it was sliding into a greased glove.
Marie only scowled at him. "Look here, Mister Man. I got mine somewhere else, and the mistress she gets hers where she can get it. We all got problems, but there's no use in mixing my problems with her problems. Now you get your white ass out of that bed and, let me, make it. As soon as you're slicked up I'll show you out and we can all get back to business."
Rick got out of bed, as she directed, stood in front of her bare-ass naked, and said, "Okay."
"That's better," Marie said, moving around the other side of the bed. She didn't give his cock a second glance. "Use the bathroom through that door there," she gave it a backward nod, "and I'll have your clothes ready."
He obeyed. He realized that people using the house were used to obeying the women who ran it, whether it was Mrs. Witherdine or Marie giving the orders.
When he finished in the bathroom, Marie handed him his clothes and he dressed and followed her toward a third door. He glanced back at the room and saw that Marie had stripped off the old sheets and put new ones on the bed, freshened the pillows, arranged a small cluster of flowers on the bed table. The room looked and smelled fresh and inviting, ready for Mrs. Witherdine to crawl into bed tonight in a dignified manner proper for a fifty-year-old matron.
They descended another flight of narrow back stairs and came out into the kitchen. Both Rick and Marie were startled to find a beautiful, raven-haired, black-eyed girl sitting cross-legged on a kitchen stool eating a piece of cake.
"Hi," the girl said brightly, more to Rick than to Marie.
"Miss Jenny," Marie gasped. "I thought you were in the study."
Jenny grinned like a mischievous child. "I thought you might have some cake out here." She lifted a piece on her fork. "And I was right." Her eyes stayed on Rick as her mouth opened just a little and the piece of cake slipped inside.
Rick knew at once who she was: the sole heir to the entire Witherdine fortune, Jenny Roman, the old lady's grandniece. One of the most beautiful girls on the Massachusetts coast.
Rick had never set eyes on her before, but now he would never forget her. She was nineteen, slim, with a fine pair of breasts and a bare, tight stomach dotted with a firm little belly button. He managed to say, "Hi," and give a sort of wave as Marie ushered him swiftly toward the back door.
He thought that her eyes, framed by the jet-black hair, were the brightest pair of captives he had ever seen.
The door closed behind him.
Forever.
He might get back in whenever the old lady wanted him. He was hardly aware of the envelope Marie had slipped into his hand as they had started dawn the stairs. He was welcome back at the mansion whenever Mrs. Witherdine's libido was acting up, but to want to meet the heiress, the gorgeous hunk of girlhood that he had seen in the kitchen, was never-never, forbidden, do not touch, reserved for some guy out now properly sailing in some regatta.
Rick walked back toward the resort along the road. Cool breezes came from the bay making the green reeds along the shoulders nod and wave. They swayed like lovers unable to touch.
Rick felt devastated. From the incredible high he had felt as he bounced out of Mrs. Witherdine's bed at Marie's insistence, he had been dealt a low blow in the back of the balls. He had run four-square into Jenny Roman, suddenly the most beautiful girl he had ever met, and she knew beyond any doubt that he was her great-aunt's lover, her paid boyfriend, a hanger-on of old ladies, a suck-ass.
There was a single bill in the envelope, one hundred dollars.
A hundred bucks for a single fuck. It would have been worth it if he had still been able to convince himself he was going to be happy fucking old ladies. He enjoyed the beach birds swooping and singing over his head, and the feel of the breeze on his face. He enjoyed walking.
He had made a hundred bucks, and screwed himself out of a million.
He was kicking stones out of the roadway when the little red sports car pulled up from behind him and stopped.
Jenny Roman sat in the driver's seat. She looked at him long and hard with only a suggestion of a smile around her dark eyes.