Chapter 4
'There there, precious . . . now don't you get all uptight . . . Mr. Stebbins knows what you need . . ."
"But I don't!" Maybelle exclaimed. "I mean, you mustn't! This isn't right! Oooooooh, Mister Stebbins . . . !"
The bald little man rubbed a stubby finger against her soft, warm pussy, caressing it through the damp silken shield of her panties, and she couldn't keep from spreading her thighs apart as she shamefully shut her eyes. What he was doing felt so very good!
"A sweet young lady like you," he crooned softly, "can get all the satisfaction she needs without doing anything wrong . . . without losing her precious innocence. You understand what I'm saying?"
"N-no, Mr. Stebbins, I don't." She caught her breath. "Oooooh, God! Keep doing that!"
Maybelle's head was flopped wantonly back against the top of the sofa, and her brain seemed to spin as the middle-aged banker bent to watch his finger stroke her blue panty crotch, pressing the firm little shaft of her clitoris and her oozing slit. His eyes goggled as he took in her bare, creamy thighs above the tops of her stockings.
He pushed her skirt and slip all the way to her lap so that he could appreciate the total beauty of her thighs and her panty-clad hips. He knelt on the floor in front of her and stroked her thighs along the straps of her garters. His hands crept across the narrow elastic leg bands of her briefs and curled around her soft, nylon-sheathed hips. He drew her forward so that she was sitting on the edge of the sofa, and he lifted her legs in the air, spreading them wide apart.
Maybelle would never have permitted such a shocking thing if it weren't that Stebbins had caught her at a vulnerable moment, when she was aflame with the memories of Chicago, which she had suppressed for the last couple of months. She hated herself for letting him do what he was doing, but she couldn't help yielding to it as her senses swirled and she bit her lip against the wanton throbs of pleasure that coursed through her.
Stebbins licked a tasty thigh, which was smooth as ivory but so very much softer, his tongue running from the ribbed top of her stocking all the way to her panty crotch. His pug nose rubbed the clingy, damp nylon, and he breathed in the heady scent of her arousal.
"So sweet ... so luscious . . . !" he purred, his lips moving lewdly against her pants. Then he licked her other thigh from panty to stocking.
Holding her legs high in the air, with her back bent like a pretzel, the lascivious man had access to her bulgy buttocks, as well, and he licked them along the clasping elastics of her panties.
Maybelle went into a veritable swoon from the warm, wet excitement of his tongue. She flopped her head to and fro, her hair tumbling softly across her cheeks.
Stebbins rested her legs on his shoulders and bent very low, pressing his mouth against the portion of her panties that covered the center of her twat. He kissed and sucked her pussy through the nylon, drawing her tangy nectar through that fine screen.
"Oooooh, take my panties off!" she shamefully heard herself beg.
'Yes . . . yes ... my angel ..." Stebbins said passionately, and his hands glided to the top of the delightful garment, under the folds of her outer clothing. His fingers curled around the elastic band and drew her panties down. He slipped the silky briefs out from under her bottom and along her thighs as he gazed at the luscious pussy he had uncovered.
What a hairy little snatch it was!
Stebbins drew Maybelle's panties all the way down and left them looped around one of her ankles. As he spread her thighs wide apart, her pussy opened to him, its ragged little lips puffing out between the hair-covered outer labia. . She was so wet! She smelled so very good!
The banker pressed his face to her twat and commenced licking.
This was the first time Maybelle had gotten her cunt licked by a man and she felt like climbing the walls from sheer, giddy excitement.
"Ooooh! Ooooh! Ooooh!" she panted, as her hips bumped out of control, rubbing her wet, warm pussy all over Stebbins's face.
He reveled in the marvelous scent and taste of her, and the feel of her wiggly cunt-flesh against his tongue and lips. He plowed through the elastic, slippery folds, licking the hot, hard tip of her clitoris. He licked her hairy outer labia as well, plastering the tendrils against her velvety flesh.
Maybelle clamped her stocking-clad legs around the back of his bald head. She bumped her twat hotly against him.
Oh, look at me! she thought. God, what a slut I am! But I love it... I LOVE IT!
Stebbins ground his parted lips into her succulent snatch and drank her honey, slurping noisily. The room seemed, to spin around her. She quaked. She throbbed. Suddenly she came, and it was like a dam bursting as Maybelle showered gushes of rich cream onto Stebbins's lapping tongue and down his gulping throat.
He kept licking and slurping, a lustful groan gurgling in his throat, as the girl gradually returned to sanity and gained a grip on herself.
WHY DID I LET HIM DO IT? she thought in abject humiliation. WHAT WAS I THINKING OF?
She grasped the banker's bald head and pushed fiercely, dislodging him from between her thighs and sending him rocking backward. Her eyes brimmed with shame, her fair cheeks florid, as she lurched to her feet, her skirt and slip dropping to conceal the luscious parts that Stebbins sinfully had enjoyed.
"Don't go yet!" he begged. "Precious!"
On his knees, looking beseechingly up at her, he seemed an utter fool, rather than the boss she always had been frightened of.
She hurried to the door on shaky legs, and was still somewhat dizzy. She felt awfully wet between her thighs, and she realized she didn't have her panties on. Looking down dazedly, she saw the blue undies looped about one of her ankles, dragging on the carpet.
"Goodness!" she exclaimed, suffering a new wave of humiliation. She bent to pull her panties up.
Stebbins had crawled after her, and began tugging at the stretchy garment, nearly causing her to lose her balance. She had to lean against his shoulder.
"What are you doooo-ing, you filthy old ... !" Maybelle caught herself just in time, before she said something even worse.
The middle-aged banker didn't seem to hear her scornful words. He was totally intent upon working her panties over her shoe. He managed to do that, and clutched the wad of soft, dam nylon in his pudgy fist.
"Give me my panties!" Maybelle demanded.
"No, I want them!" Stebbins bleated. "Ooh please let me keep them as a souvenir!"
"My God!" she said in dismay, and pushed a her tangled hair.
Stebbins was holding her panties against h' face, his eyes shut as he breathed deeply of the erotic fragrance that her undies exuded. Looking down at him, Maybelle realized how pitiful really was and what power she had over him.
"All right, keep my panties!" she snapped. "B I'm taking the rest of the day off!"
"Yes . . . yessssss . . . oooh, my precious . . anything that you want!"
She turned and strode from his office, her cheeks flaming. She didn't look right nor left as s' exited the bank. Walking down Main Street, with no pants on, she felt like a whore . . . but the awareness of her power over men, which had come suddenly in Stebbins's office, grew stronger and tended to offset her shame.
Back in his private sanctum, the banker inhaled the delightful fragrance of Maybelle's underpants while he knelt before a wastebasket which was lying on its side. He was pumping his stubby prick in his fist, groaning and writhing. He shot off, his sperm spurting into the crumpled papers.
By the time Maybelle arrived at the old white house on Lee Street where she lived, she had calmed down. Her color had returned to normal, and no one would have imagined that anything untoward had happened.
She opened the screen door and stepped into the cool interior of the large house.
"What are you doing home from work, girl?" Hobart Peters challenged as he appeared in the doorway of the library.
"Oh, I . . . uh . . . had a headache, and Mr. Stebbins gave me the rest of the day off," she told the white-haired man who had raised her and her sister from young childhood after their parents had died in a car crash.
"Hmph!" Hobart said, scowling. "A little headache shouldn't keep you from doing your work! This isn't like you, girl."
"Well, maybe not, Uncle," she replied a bit tartly as she started up the stairs. "But perhaps I'm different now."
"What? Come back down here and tell me what you mean by that!"
"Later, Uncle. I want to lie down for awhile."
Maybelle went into her room and shut the door.
The tall, paunchy man in suspenders, white shirt, and baggy trousers stood gazing up the stairs after her, wondering what had gotten into her head. The he uttered another humph and returned to the library where he had been going over the files of his real estate holdings. The MacAllister mortgage was ripe to be foreclosed, he decided.
Maybelle lay on her back on the bed and stared at her familiar dusky-pink ceiling as she pondered unfamiliar thoughts. The new and daring notions had come to her in the last twenty minutes,, and she wasn't comfortable with them yet. But they were worth further consideration.
All these years she had cow-towed to her Uncle, and to people like Mr. Stebbins, thinking she had to do so. But perhaps she didn't have to. Perhaps she didn't have to let any man boss her around.
Perhaps she could make them jump through hoops, all of them, if she just had the courage to do it!
She couldn't shake the startling new impression she had gained from the bank manager as he knelt in front of her, begging for her favors. She had let him push her over, when she could have bargained with him and gotten something in return.
But was that decent?
Decency! she scoffed. What was it anyway? Perhaps it was just a screen that people like Stebbins-yes, and her Uncle, too-hid behind. She knew about her Uncle's dirty deals, taking advantage of people who were down on their luck, granting loans at high interest and gaining liens on their properties, many of which he foreclosed. He owned half of Culpepper County, as a result.
And old Henry Culpepper was another example of hypocrisy. The aging scion of a proud family, he masqueraded as Mister Virtue while he bled the poor sharecroppers that worked his land.
Wait a minute, Maybelle! an inner voice warned. You had a crazy experience today, and you're letting it run away with you. You're trying to get off the hook of guilt-that's what it is! Just because Nick screwed you in Chicago, and Stebbins sucked you between the legs today, you're trying to convince yourself that all men are no good so that you'll seem all right by comparison. That won't wash!
You always knew Stebbins was a rascal-or, at least, you suspected it. But Uncle Hobart is good. He doesn't really cheat anyone; he's just sharp at business. That's the way people have to be to get ahead.
Maybelle pulled up her skirt and sighted along her body, looking at the dark, long hairs that rose wispily from her mons. Her pink-tipped fingers glided down there, and she rubbed the soft, pliant lips of her cunt, which were still faintly damp from her shameful exudings and from Stebbins's saliva. That dirty old man!
But how about the dirty young woman who had let him make weird love to her-AND HAD ENJOYED IT!
Maybelle's mind was thoroughly confused again, with guilt the dominant emotion that she felt. As she held her hand over her pussy, as if to protect it, her thoughts turned to Nick and the date she had with him that night.
What did he want, she wondered-only he body, or was there something else that had brought him to Peachville? She'd had the impression in Chicago that he was a shady operator of some kind, working on the fringe of respectability. He had said he sold cars, but he was free to come and go as he pleased-even Arlene had doubted that he was a regular salesman. Still, he dressed well and always seemed to have money in his pocket.
Maybe she would find out tonight what he really did for a living, Maybelle speculated. That Delman Industries-what was it?
Maybelle had made up her mind that she would have to meet the awful man. She couldn't risk having him spread dirty pictures of her all over town.
She rolled onto her face, a fresh recollection of what had happened in Chicago bringing a new wave of shame. Her well-rounded buttocks quivered in the nude, framed delightfully by her garter belt and stocking tops. She reached back and idly stroked her pliant, softly firm ass.
I can't give in to Nick tonight! she vowed. I just can't! I've got to have more strength than I had today with Mr. Stebbins.
She could, still feel the tongue of the dirty little bank manager as he licked her pussy shamefully. What a thrill!
NO! her conscience retorted. It was horrid! Lots of things are exciting, but that doesn't mean they're good. I've got to try harder to resist the wrong things!
Why has that been so difficult lately?
Maybelle got up and paced.
Downstairs, her uncle heard the ceiling of the old house creaking softly, and he knew that his niece was walking back and forth.
That girl hasn't been the same ever since she got back from Chicago, he mused. I wonder what really happened there. God knows how Arlene is living these days! She always had a wild streak, and now that she's been on her own for over a year . . .
Maybe I should have a good long talk with Maybelle, he thought, looking up.
Having just decided that she needed a bath, she took off her dress. She walked to the closet to fetch a robe, then carried it to the door, feeling she could safely cross the hall in her half-slip and bra, since her uncle was downstairs.
She opened the door and caught her breath as she confronted him.
"I ... I was coming up to have a talk with you," he said, obviously nervous about catching her in her slip and bra.
Maybelle saw his eyes stroke down her front. She didn't realize that the dark V-shaped shadow of her pubic patch showed through her slip.
"Girl, are you traipsing around with no underpants on?" her uncle demanded, color rising in his flabby cheeks.
"What?"
Maybelle looked down and saw the shadow of her pussy hairs. She was mortified and covered her loins with her hands as she blushed furiously.
"Answer me!" Hobart cried self-righteously. "Where are you pants?"
Maybelle's new-found defiance flared. "My panties are none of your business!"
"They are if you've quit wearing them-or, worse yet, if you let some Jasper take 'em off you!"
"Uncle!" Maybelle exclaimed, feigning shock at his oblique accusation.
Hobart was a past-master at reading people's eyes. He'd had to develop that trait to become successful in his speculations. Knowing right away that his young niece was hiding something, he backed her into the room.
"You better tell me what's going on!" he said. "I've got a reputation to protect in this town."
"There's nothing . . . going on!" Maybelle maintained, though guilt stuck out all over her. "Just leave me alone, Uncle Hobart!"
"No, by golly! I won't! I'm going to find out what's come over you, and right now. You're not too old to taste a little old-fashioned discipline!"
Hobart lunged at the girl, and she tried to sidestep him. But he caught her by a wrist and sent her toppling across the bed. She rolled onto her belly, her flimsy slip winding up. The white-haired man gazed at her full, creamy thighs and the plump rondures of her buttocks which peeped nakedly below the lacy edge of her slip.
His old penis twitched.
Ever since Maybelle had attained voluptuous maturity, he had harbored an illicit lust for her. He had never done anything about it, because the idea was too shocking.
But where was the wrong in spanking a niece who deserved punishment?
Hobart sprang to the bed, on his knees, and held Maybelle down, his left hand pressing the small of her back. He eyed her lush buttocks which were enticingly half-exposed, and he raised his right hand above them.
"Uncle Hobart!" Maybelle shrieked. "Nooooh!"
He brought his hand down stingingly against her bottom, causing her fleshy curves to shake. Her slip bounced entirely off them. The old man's eyes glinted lustfully as he spanked his niece's bare ass.
"Oooooh, Uncle Hobart!" she cried, smarting from pain and humiliation. "Pleeeeeease!"
His hand slapped her bottom again and again, making her cheeky buttocks jiggle. They were so springy-firm and smooth-and so luscious to look at-that Hobart's cock stiffened out as he spanked her.
"This'll teach you ..." he panted as he kept slapping her bottom, "not to go around . . . with no pants on!"
"Oooooooohl" she bawled. "Stop it! Oooh, Uncle Hobart!"
An ache in his arm forced him finally to stop the spanking. When he realized how aroused he had become, he was dismayed and lifted his other hand from Maybelle's back.
She quickly clambered off the bed, giving him the merest glimpse of thick black hair and puffy flesh between the tops of her thighs, and she streaked for the door, snatching up her robe on the way. She ran across the hall to the bathroom where she took refuge, locking the door and leaning against it. The tormented girl cried, her bottom burning fiercely.
There was a worse ache in her soul-an ache that would have to be treated some way, and she didn't know how.