Chapter 7
"Elizabeth honey, why so serious? Isn't my baby having a good time at Grandpa's house?" buxom Joyce Trent glanced up from her movie magazine to regard her precocious black-haired daughter, who sat primly in a chair, her long logs crossed, pursing her lips and frowning.
"Oh-nothing, Mom I-I was just thinking, that's all."
"It's too bad there aren't any other children for you to play with, dear. But then, well be back home late Sunday night. I know your father's anxious to get back to work, all he thinks about is expanding that commercial delivery firm of his."
"I s'pose so, Mom. But gee, if he makes lots more money, then maybe I can have a new bike for Christmas and lots of other things too, hm?"
"Well see, darling. You mustn't be too greedy at your age. Wait until you're older and some nice rich man wants to buy you lots of presents. I do declare, though, you're looking a little peaked. It isn't that time yet, is it, darling?"
"Oh gosh no, Mom," Elizabeth prettily colored. "Not till some time next week. That's not it at all. I was going to ask you, Mom, why is everybody treating poor Mr. Aldrich so mean?"
Joyce's blue eyes widened as she reached up to pat her blonde upsweep, thereby arching out sumptuous but still deliciously firm, closely spaced round titties against her attractive magenta woolen dress. "Why, whatever do you mean, honey?"
"Well, right after lunch, I heard Daddy telling Cousin Mike that he didn't know how Rose could stand a droop-that's what he called poor Mr. Aldrich-in bed."
"Elizabeth Trent!" Joyce .Trent was maternally shocked and she blushed too. "You aren't to eavesdrop and you certainly aren't to repeat what men say among themselves. The very idea! Now, Mr. Aldrich is a very nice man. He's just more serious and interested in his work than lots of other young men his age, that's all. He's trying to make a good home for Rose, and I think she's very lucky. Why, when I think of how some men chase around all the time and spend lots of money on other women-but you're too young to know about things like that, baby."
"I'm not a baby, Mom, and you know it. Anyway, I think Mr. Aldrich sort of goes for you."
This unexpected sally made Joyce Trent gasp and turn even redder than before as she stared with growing curiosity at her precocious daughter. "What in the world ever gave you the idea, Elizabeth?" she gasped.
Elizabeth Trent giggled, then put her hand to her mouth and wiped off the smile, for her mother's face had suddenly grown imperiously stern. "Oh, I just happened to hear Uncle Ben tell Mr. Lorimer-or should I ought to call him Uncle Jack, 'cause he's married to my Aunt Susan? Anyhow, he said to Mr. Lorimer that Mr. Aldrich was writing some advertising about grownup women down through history who didn't have to be young to be smart and beautiful, and that he had heard Mr. Aldrich say that in his opinion, you, Mom, were typical."
"Oh I declare!" Now it was Joyce's turn to giggle, and again pat her hair to make sure that it was neatly in place. "How very flattering, I must find out if he really meant it, though."
"I think Mr. Aldrich went down to the recreation room to play some billiards. I think he's playing by himself, Mom I watched him go down there, and there wasn't anybody else in the room And Cousin Rose is in the living room talking to Cousin Mike."
"You seem to be a regular news bureau today, young lady. Well, I'll just go down and have a word with that nice Mr. Aldrich. Why don't you take a nap, precious? It'll be a couple of hours before dinner, and I must say, I'm afraid I'll have put on ten pounds before this weekend's over."
"I'll just stretch out here on the bed and rest a little. You know, Mom," she added as she clambered onto her mother's bed, pillowing her head on her arms and exhaling a deep sigh of comfort, "you're awfully pretty. I'll bet you could have gotten just any other man besides Daddy if you'd set your mind to it."
"What's got into you all of a sudden, Elizabeth Trent?" Joyce suspiciously demanded. But there was a guileless look on her daughter's face which told her nothing at all. Shrugging, she finally remarked, "Now try to catch forty winks, honey. I'll call you when it's time for supper."
Joyce Trent felt as flustered as a schoolgirl as she carefully made her way down the narrow steps leading to the basement. What perplexed her most was how, seemingly overnight, Elizabeth had managed to learn so much about what was going on inside the family in only two short days, when she'd hardly seen most of them more than three or four times a year previously. Well, maybe her little girl was growing up. But right now she felt a curious kind of excitement rising in her usually placid nature at the thought that a younger man had paid her such a flattering tribute. Henry had just about begun to take her for granted these days. Oh yes, they still enjoyed bed together, but it didn't have the zip and zing of their first years together. Maybe that was to be expected as one got older, she didn't know. But she was still a long way from forty, and it certainly made her feel younger to receive attentions from somebody else, and maybe it might just focus Henry's mind on what he had at home.
She felt an inexplicable shiver of anticipation, nevertheless, as she opened the basement door and stepped inside the recreation room. Wilson Aldrich was leaning over the billiard table, measuring a difficult shot of the four and ten balls caroming off to the side pockets. He wore a blue polo shirt and matching slacks, and he looked even younger than his twenty-nine years with that crew cut.
"Oh-Mrs. Trent-I didn't hear you come in," he suddenly exclaimed as he straightened, putting down his cue on the table.
Joyce Trent's cheeks flushed hotly as she observed a flicker of more than nominal interest in his mild blue eyes behind the glasses. "I-I just came down to see if maybe Rose was here. I was going to have a chat with her," she lamely explained.
"No, I guess maybe she's taking a nap. They've really stuffed us here this Thanksgiving weekend, haven't they? I have to watch I don't put on too much weight." He patted his stomach and chuckled self-consciously, the flushed as he saw her eyes on him.
'That's silly," she giggled. "You could stand a lot more weight, Wilson. Why, you look just like a boy. I only wish I had that nice streamlined figure."
"Now you're the one who's being silly, Mrs. Trent. I mean-now color flamed in his cheeks as well and he lowered his eyes almost apologetically. "I mean, you're really beautiful."
"What a sweet thing to say to me! Thank you, Wilson dear! I-I was told you were doing some sort of advertising series on famous women of history," she coquettishly ventured.
'That's right," he said excitedly. "You see, I'm handling a jewelry account, somebody as well known as Tiffany in New York. And I thought up the idea of taking some of the most famous historical women and imagining what it would be like if they lived today and what kind of jewelry they would wear. The artist is drawing sketches and of course showing the special pieces this firm wants to sell. They're very expensive."
"I see. That's a perfectly marvelous idea, Wilson. But the I've always said you were very smart and clever. Rose is lucky to be married to a man like you."
Wilson Aldrich uttered a sigh. "I wish she thought so, Mrs. Trent."
"Oh do please call me Joyce. We're all from the same family, you know. Why do you say a thing like that?"
"I-I guess I'm old-fashioned in lots of ways, and sometimes she's impatient with me. You see," here he glanced around nervously, as if afraid someone else would overhear, "I was brought up by a governess till I was eighteen because my parents were traveling all the time in their linen import business. And I guess I sort of-well, as a kid that happens lots of times, you know, I fell in love with her. She was in her early forties, and she looked a lot like you-I know that sounds like not very much of a compliment, but it's true."
"Why, Wilson!" Joyce Trent breathed, regarding him as if for the first time. "That's about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, even Henry"
"I-I was sort of scared of girls when I was going to school, and then anyway, I was crazy about Miss Thornton. And after she left and I went to college, I wrote for the school paper and all the girls thought I was a creep. Then I went into advertising and I did fine, and then I met Rose last year and I couldn't believe a gorgeous girl like her could care for me. Only the trouble is -well, I shouldn't be bothering you with things like this."
"But I want you to, Wilson dear." She took a step towards him, her blue eyes luminous, her ripe titties rising and falling more quickly now. "I know how to keep a secret, Wilson dear. What's wrong between you and Rose?"
He blushed like a girl and shifted uneasily from foot to foot, picked up the cue, put it down again. "It's sort of embarrassing," he shamefacedly mumbled.
"You mustn't feel that way. It's so important that young people get off to a good start in bed -that's what you really mean, isn't it, Wilson?" She was standing in front of him now, and she felt a twitching of her cuntal lips and a warm tingling along the insides of her plump, pink-sheened thighs that was more exciting than it had been the last year or two whenever Henry moved toward her with fucking in mind. "Isn't it, Wilson dear?"
He nodded, not quite trusting himself to speak.
"Maybe," she went on softly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "it's because you're so shy and you try to pretend you really don't have anything to give a girl, but you've got an awful lot, Wilson. You're clever and you've got a wonderful education and a mind that can make up all sorts of wonderful advertisements that make money for everybody, and you don't have to be a football player or a movie star or anything to get a girl who really will appreciate you."
"It-it's not exactly that-oh gosh, Joyce, I shouldn't be saying a thing at all, it's like-well, telling bedroom secrets-" he bashfully stammered, lowering his eyes.
"But those are the best kind, Wilson darling," she giggled, standing very close to him. The tingling of her thighs and the twitching of her cuntal lips was stronger now, and she had to lean on the edge of the billiard table to keep from swaying as a sudden incredibly lustful impulse seethed inside of her. Tell me. I won't ever tell anybody else, I promise, Wilson darling."
"You-you'll think it's silly-you'll laugh at me-" he hesitated.
"No I won't, darling. Go on, it'll be good for you. It would be a shame if anything happened to spoil your marriage to Rose, because maybe she doesn't appreciate what you really are. But I do. Now tell me!"
"All-all right then," he seemed to exhale a kind of desperate urgency as he blurted out: "I-I guess I read too many books when I was a kid because I was so alone, and-well, you know-I didn't have a girl or anything. There was only one before I met Rose, and she was-well, you know, a call girl. And she let me spank her before I could have sex with her. I told you it sounded crazy."
"No, I think I can understand it. You felt put down by the girls in school who wouldn't even consider you, and you wanted to show them up and take it out on them and show them you were their master, wasn't that it?"
He stared at her incredulously, his mouth open, as hot waves of color stained his pale cheeks, and his eyes were huge with disbelief. "My gosh, how could you guess that? But-but you know it's true, everything you said. Even Miss Thornton, she always treated me as if I were a little kid, even though I'm sure she knew I was crazy about her. And she was Junoesque like you, yes, and she had blonde hair just like yours, too. I used to have dreams at night where I'd tie her up and spank her till she cried and said she'd let me make love to her. Only you see, when you're married, you just don't do things like that to a nice decent girl like Rose."
"Oh you poor darling! You poor misguided unhappy darling," Joyce giggled, though by now her face was as red as Wilson's. "That's putting a girl on a pedestal, as if she were a statue that can't be touched. Don't you know that lots of women deep down inside are just dying to be dragged to bed by their hair and made to give all they've got? It's going back to the old caveman days, Wilson. I'll bet if you did that to Rosie just once, she'd keep you in bed all day long just taking care of her. You take my word for it."
"Oh my gosh-I wouldn't dare!"
Joyce Trent glanced furtively around at the door of the recreation room, and swiftly moved toward it and blocked it. Coming back to the startled bespectacled towheaded young man, she brazenly whispered, "Why don't you try it just once and see? Why don't you pretend I'm your
Miss Thornton and take it out on me, see how I'll react, darling."
"You-you're joking-"
"No I'm not." She giggled, and then, seeing him still stupefied by her incredible proposal, affected a contemptuous sneer. "Oh, I see. Maybe that's why Rose won't go to bed with you. Maybe, for all you know, she's looking for somebody else to give her what she needs because you can't give it to her, because you aren't really a man."
His face tightened, his lips compressed and thin, his eyes narrowed and angry behind the glasses. Then, to her secret delight, he had seized her by her wrist and was dragging her over toward the couch, pulling her down across his lap, yanking up her jersey skirt and then her slip, exposing her opulent firm bottom in its clinging black satin-elastic panty girdle, his eyes feasting on the palpitating pink skin of her bare thighs above the beige nylon stocking tops.
"So you don't think I'm a man, Joyce, do you? Well, we'll just sec about that!" he panted.
Joyce Trent pretended indignation, twisting herself about on his lap, thrusting her' hands back over her panty girdle to protect her ripe posterior. "Now wait a minute, Wilson, I was just teasing-stop that-don't you dare -I'll scream, I warn you, I'll scream-oh don't
-please don't take it down-oh leave it on, I didn't mean it-please stop-oh no!"
Panting with lust and exasperation, the towheaded young man pinned both her wrists with his left hand, and was fumbling with the fasteners of the black sheath, opening it and then, momentarily releasing her wrists, using both hands to give the panty girdle a vigorous tug which pulled it down to the base of her plump huddling bottom-cheeks.
"Oohhhhhh, oh don't, please, this is awful!" she gasped, but inwardly her pulse was pounding and her heart was beating faster than it ever had before, and there was a churning, warm, moistening sensation between her legs, so exquisitely tormenting that she thought she would faint. Once again, he had gripped both her wrists in his left hand, finished yanking down the panty girdle to her knees, and then, passing his right palm over her cringing bottom, lifted it up and brought it down with a sonorous Smack!
"Ouch! Stop it, Wilson! That's enough now!" she gasped.
"Oh no it isn't, Miss Thornton, you've got a lot coming for all the nasty things you've said to me all these years!" Wilson Aldrich was reliving his boyhood with his haughty, tantalizing, mature governess now. His right hand rose and fell, and
Joyce Trent gasped and squirmed at the vehemence and the smarting sting of those energetic spanks. Her bottom, still wonderfully firm and resilient, was extremely sensitive, as the vivid discoloration of her smooth pink skin at once attested. A dozen more such harsh smacks, and she had begun to kick her nylon-sheathed legs and to look back frantically. "Oww, that hurts, damn it! Stop it, I told you, Wilson! This has gone far enough, I said! I'll be very angry at you-oww! Please, not so hard -oh this is awful!"
Ignoring her remonstrations, Wilson Aldrich continued to bring his right hand up and down with increasing energy and enthusiasm, alternating on her quaking upturned round bottom-globes, flattening them with crisp sonorous smacks which made her kick even more frantically and tug wildly at her wrists to get free.
"No you don't, you're gonna take all that's coming to you, Miss Thornton!" he panted, his face crimson and his eyes glittering behind the glasses. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this to you-when you caught me playing with myself, you said I didn't have the courage to be manly, that I was just a sneaky little nasty boy. Well, you'll take that back. There, how do you like that, Miss Thornton, and that one too? Did your big bottom feel that, did it?" As he spoke, still living in his furious fantasy, his hand continued to rise and fall relentlessly all over Joyce Trent's now furiously flaming naked ass, and by this time, the pain was overwhelming. But with it, there came to her the almost paralyzing, sweet, languorous thrill of feeling her cuntal lips twitch and moisten from the secretive lubricating fluids of her womanhood, and the nipples of her panting breasts stiffened and darkened in tumescence.
As he showed no sign of relenting but continued to flatten her inflamed, burning buttocks with energetic smacks, Joyce frantically squirmed and kicked, displaying the fleshy pink cuntal lips framed between the thick, dark-golden curls of her fleece, sobbing distractedly, "Ow -boohoo -oh, please stop, Wilson darling-that's enough now-oh I can't stand it any more, I'll be good, I didn't mean to make you angry, I didn't mean to insult you-ouch -aahhh-oh please-please, I'll be good, I'll do anything you want, honest I will if you'll only stop!"
His hand halted above the flaming contours of her shuddering, uncontrollably contracting bottom-cheeks. "Do you mean it, Miss Thorton? Are you going to do exactly what I tell you to or do I have to spank your big ass raw?"
Joyce gasped, deliciously shocked by his sudden transformation from the arid intellectual into a man of primitive action. "I-I promise, honest I do! Oh please don't spank me any more, Wilson darling, I'll do whatever you say, if you'll only stop!" she blubbered.
"All right then," his face had taken on a new decisiveness and authority. "Get down on your knees and kiss my hand and tell me you're sorry for having insulted and downgraded me all these years!"
Joyce Trent squirmed awkwardly off his lap, sank down on her knees, her panty girdle twisted about her lower calves, her face crimson and tearstained, her magnificent big titties heaving against the bodice of the jersey dress. Her tear-blurred eyes perceived all the same that at the crotch of his slacks a ferocious bulging object protruded, threatening to tear through the material. She stared at it, transfixed, and the moist burning agitation in her cuntal sheath made her sway on her knees, as her lips violently trembled and tears ran down her flushed cheeks.
"You know what you have to do!" he snapped. "You scolded me because I was playing with myself, the way you called it. Well now, Miss Thornton, you can just take it out of my pants and suck it and play with it yourself for a change! Do it right now, or I'll give you another thrashing and this time I'll use my belt on your big ass!"
"Oh I will, Wilson darling, I just couldn't take any more spanking now!" Joyce Trent sobbingly confessed. Her hand reached out and yanked down the zipper, fumbled in his shorts and drew out his throbbing, superbly long and heavy prick. The head emerged like a kind of giant mushroom, bulbous, set off by a deep narrow circumcision groove, and the lips of the meatus were puckering with the vibrant essence held back in his gnarled, well-loaded balls.
'That's it, now start sucking!" His voice was hoarse and adamant. He reached out with both hands to twist his fingers in her blonde upsweep. Joyce Trent, who in all the years of her married life had never once dared perform such an intimate act with satyr-like Henry, now found herself panting and almost expectantly leaning forward to open her lips and to close them over the hot hard velvety glans and to suck it noisily.
"Aahhh! That's better! Keep it up, and maybe I won't spank you again, and maybe I will anyway, Miss Thornton!" he hoarsely declared, tugging at her hair till she squealed and increased the fervor of her sucking.
"Aahh-oh that's good-you never thought you'd do this for me, did you, dear Miss Thornton?" His head tilted back, his eyes glazed, his nostrils flaring as he arched himself to Joyce's mouth, shoving his hard big prick almost against her palate. She choked and gasped and gurgled, her cheeks bulging and her eyes huge with surprise at his savage maleness, as she strove to cope with this new challenge. Her tongue furled around the head and the groove of the glans, until suddenly Wilson Aldrich pulled his glistening, throbbing prick out of her mouth and panted, "That's enough now-now you can just get ready to take care of it and you won't be calling me sneaky and unnatural any more, Miss Thornton! Get up here on the couch and get yourself ready to be fucked!"
She stumbled to her feet, hauling up dress and slip, exposing herself from belly to the tops of her sagging beige nylons, her cuntal lips juicy and tingling now with longing. The smarting burning of her bottom prickled and tickled in the most exquisitely agonizing way, intensifying her now furious longing. She had never been so sexually excited in all her life, she thought, as she sprawled herself down at the other end of the couch, spreading her thighs and staring at him with mute longing.
In a flash he was on her, kneeling between her thighs, adjusting his prick with one hand to fit into her moist socket, then thrusting violently and falling atop her, crushing down her panting titties as his hand dug under her writhing naked bottom-cheeks and gripped the inflamed flesh possessively. She cried out at the pain and shock of his brutality, and she nearly fainted with ecstasy from it as she felt him impale her to his very balls.
"Oh yes, Wilson, oh my God, fuck me, luck me hard, punish me, make me pay for how nasty I was to you all these years," she whimpered, locking her arms around him and gluing her mouth to his.
The blonde matron, playing the role of Wilson's denigrating governess, suddenly was discovering the wild masochistic thrill of serving as a helpless naked passion-proxy, and her cuntal juices had begun to flow copiously as she squirmed under his now completely masterful priapic assault. She didn't recognize him with that apologetic look wiped off and his face taut and almost cruel and his eyes glittering. And she moaned as she felt his surprisingly sinewy fingers, which she thought good only for holding a pencil to draft advertising copy, gouge into the smarting flesh of her angrily reddened, burning buttocks. Indeed, Joyce felt exactly like a slave girl just chastised for not having pleased her master with her first fucking in his bed, and was now wildly eager to prove to him that she didn't need any more such encouragement.
"I will, Miss Thornton, I'll fuck you till you cum, so don't try holding back or I'll give you an even harder spanking," he hoarsely pledged as he began to speed up the cadence of his deep skewering prick thrusts in and out of Joyce's wet slushing, quaking, wildly excited cunt.
Towheaded Wilson Aldrich, the "Four-eyes" whom the men of the Trent family had pityingly put down as an egghead, had become an unleashed tiger now. Grimacing and panting, mumbling obscene epithets which Joyce could scarcely hear in her delirium, he thrust in and out of her still tight, moist sheath as if he had been on a desert island for twenty years without ever having seen a female. His sinewy fingers pinched and dug and prodded her inflamed bare ass, making her squirm and writhe and arch and jerk and weave frantically. She was nearly fainting with the shattering, compelling fury that he had wreaked inside her quaking vagina. And when she felt his forefinger nudge her twitching bottom hole, her body heaved and threshed in the frenzied throes of hot and violent cum.