Chapter 7
Seldom in her life had Miss Harble felt such shame.
The motel experience had been wonderful at the time. But when she woke up the next morning in her own bedroom it was as if the remorse of the past week had collected in her head overnight like vengeful demons.
She regretted seducing Willy, flirting with Pete Foster in the library, going to that cheap motel for the most lascivious kind of sexual intercourse. But most of all she regretted what was happening to her.
It was one thing to tap the inner nature of one's self, she realized, but it was quite excruciating to find the truth about such a nature. And the truth was that despite the deep, painful guilt she felt, she had enjoyed sex with boys. She had loved every minute of being with Pete Foster, of being serviced like a whore by that full-grown but teenaged prick of his. And if there were no such thing as a conscience, she knew she would shack up with a , bold, evil young stud like Pete and let him fuck her around the clock!
But she did have a conscience, and it did pain her.
"I'll not see him again," she breathed to herself very firmly. "And I certainly won't degrade myself by paying for sex!"
She had no way of knowing that this very day she would break her lofty vow-and in one of the most shocking, immoral ways possible.
But she began the day with high purpose, by fending off the by now familiar advances of the little oversexed villain she lived under the same roof with-Willy.
While she was preparing breakfast he came sauntering into the kitchen and put one of his hands on her buttocks. He patted her possessively, then boldly reached around to cup and squeeze one of her tits.
"Stop that, Willy," she snapped, pushing his arm down.
"Hey, Aunt Mary-are you gonna go frigid on me?"
Without answering, she scraped his two eggs into his plate and put them on the table. He watched her out of those narrowed blue eyes of his, his youthful mouth twisted up in a wry grin.
"By the way," he said, almost knowingly, "where were you yesterday afternoon."
"Shopping."
"Yeah? Well, I thought we were going to fuck as soon as you got off work."
The way he said the word-so openly and crudely-irritated her already sensitive conscience.
"Don't use that word," she breathed.
"What word? You mean fuck? Hell, what do you think we've been doing every day for the past week, making mud pies ? We've been fucking, Aunt Mary. F-u-c-k-i-n-g. FUCKING!"
She turned abruptly toward his smirking face and slapped him, hard.
He gasped and sprang back, rubbing the scarlet place on his cheek. "Goddammit," he barked, "what the shit did you do that for!? "
"You will stop talking to me that way, young man," she insisted, coldly. "What happened between us was an accident-and one that I do not intend to happen again. And if you insist on it happening again, I will tell your mother."
His eyes snapped at her hatefully. "You'll tell her what, you crummy od bitch? Will you tell her how you seduced me, screwed me, ate my cock until I shot your sick old mouth full of cum!? "
"You have imagined all of that, Willy."
"Huh?"
She pursed her lips, reminding herself momentarily of Miss Amelia Clark. "I said, we have not done anything together. You just imagined that we did. And if you tell your mother anything to the contrary, I'll simply have to deny it. Is that clear?"
The dumb, startled look on his fifteen-year-old face told her that once again she had the upper hand. She could even read fear there, the age-old fear that youth has for authority.
"Now sit down, Willy, and eat your breakfast. You'll be late for school."
Halfway through his eggs he glanced up sullenly at her. "What about your promise to let me bring Peggy Williams over here?"
She shook her head firmly. "You will have to forget about that."
"But you promised!"
She put down her fork carefully and gave him a stern look. "If you persist in this, Willy, I will call your mother this evening and tell her that I can't control you. Do you want to be taken out of school? Do you want to go live with your mother again?"
"Christ, no! I like the kids in school."
"Then behave yourself."
Willy seemed thoughtful for a moment, and then he shrugged and gave his aunt a thin smile.
"I guess you're right, Aunt Mary. I'll be a good boy from now on."
She was pleased with herself. After Willy had left for school she dressed in her most conservative blouse and skirt and headed for the library singing inwardly a little song of praise for her own changed morals. Willy would always remember what they had done, she knew, but in time it would become like a dream. He would forget it-and even if he were ever unwise enough to mention such a thing to his mother, she wouldn't believe him.
Who on earth would believe that she would seduce the son of her own dear sister!?
She worked in the stacks all morning without once thinking about sex. By noon she felt that not only was she free from the degrading traps she had set for herself, but that she would even begin to think about marriage. She knew how attractive she was. She was sure that there was a nice man out there someplace who would see her as a charming, attractive blonde woman who would respond to love and affection. And, after all, wasn't sex something that should come naturally with that kind of relationship-instead of being a brutal physical exchange of mere lust?
She was, in short, through with boys.
She took a coffee break about two o'clock. Since there were two check-out desks in the large city library, all she had to do was put up her coffee-break sign that informed the customers to use the other desk and that she would be back in twenty minutes.
She had her coffee and a pleasant chat with a co-worker in the library lounge, then went back to her desk for the remaining two hours of the afternoon.
The note was lying right in the middle of her desk. Just a piece of notebook paper carefully folded, with her name written in block letters on the front.
She opened it and read the cryptic, unsettling message: meet me in the fourth floor stacks on north end-or else!
"Pete Foster," she muttered to herself. "The silly young egomaniac!"
At first she thought about ignoring the note, but the longer she sat there the more the wisdom of that tactic faded. After all, she wasn't really sure what Pete Foster was capable of doing. She couldn't take the chance of his leaving another note on Miss Clark's desk-and that would not only be embarrassing, it could be disastrous. Trying to explain to that suspicious old bitch that some boy was making trouble would in itself be more trouble than simply facing Pete on his own terms.
And so she left her desk again, hoping that nobody would notice she was doubling her coffee break today.
She took the elevator to the fourth floor-the place where all the government documents and dusty, out-of-date reference books were housed. Almost nobody ever came up there, and even when they did the footsteps echoed like a lead pipe banging against an empty oil drum. It was certainly a safe enough place, as Pete Foster must have realized for himself.
She left the elevator and walked down toward the north end of the stacks. There was nobody in sight, even when she reached the very end of the dark corridor, and she was about to call out Pete's name when she heard a noise behind her.
She turned, and found herself confronting a boy of about fourteen. He had blocked her path back to the elevator, and he was standing with his sturdy young legs wide apart, his hands on his hips, a nervous grin on his youthful, handsome face.
At first she thought she recognized him-something about his eyes-but then she realized she didn't know him.
"Hi, Miss Harble," he said, his voice piping a bit for his young years, "I guess you got my note."
She didn't feel an ounce of fear in the encounter-just annoyance.
"I thought the note was from somebody else," she said. "Now what on earth do you want-and who are you?"
His lips twitched in an even more nervous way. "I just wanta see your pussy," he whispered.
She couldn't believe her ears!
"Just let me see it," he pleaded. "I don't want to touch it or anything unless you want me to. Just pull down your panties and let me look at it."
Her cheeks began to steam, half in anger and half in that old, dreadful excitement she had just renounced.
"How dare you," she hissed. "Who are you!? "
He grinned. "I'm Pete Foster's brother. My name is Tim."
She blinked, a sinking feeling in her breasts.
"I-I don't know any Pete Foster," she lied, helplessly.
The young boy's grin widened. "Sure you do. You went to a motel with him yesterday. I was watching from outside. Pete is always taking women to that motel-and he's too damn dumb to think anybody knows about it. But I've watched him do it a lot. And I know what he's doing in there, too. You and Pete were fucking, weren't you?"
She couldn't find her voice. The blood was draining out of her legs, making them too weak and wobbly to move.
"W-what do you want from me?" she breathed, huskily.
"like I said, I just wanta see your pussy. I wanta look real close to see how it's shaped after old Pete worked on it for so long with his big dick."
She knew now why she had recognized the boy's eyes. They were just like Pete's-hard, lusty, wicked. And despite herself, she couldn't help wondering if Tim Foster were as equally endowed between the legs as his big brother!
"Please, Miss Harble," the boy whispered, "I swear to God I won't tell anybody. I never tell Pete anything-and I sure as hell wouldn't tell my folks what you were doing with my brother. I mean, I wouldn't unless..."
His voice trailed off, as if he were not quite confident enough to put his threat into words. But she knew what he meant.
It was not the veiled threat in the voice of the young satyr that was disturbing her, however. It was the mellowing heat beginning to creep back treacherously between her legs. Her vaginal lips were swelling, her clitoris growing, her nerves humming with the thought of letting this fourteen-year-old gaze on her pussy-the same pouting gash that his big brother had spent the better part of an hour fucking into contentment only yesterday.
The boy's eyes were bright and hard, and she saw him lick his lower lip with the tip of a pink, strong tongue. "Please, Miss Harble, just let me look at it, okay? Please--! ? "
"You promise," she said, her voice ragged and low, "that you will never tell a soul."
"Christ, yes. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die!"
With the animal instinct of the wary female, Miss Harble listened for a few seconds to the quiet of the fourth floor. They were certainly alone up here, but it was still a very public place. Anybody could come up the stairs or the elevator.
And then she remembered the little room at the far end of the floor-a utility room, or something. A place that had not been used since the new utility room was installed on the first floor.
"Follow me," she said, softly.
As she walked, her heels clicking a sharp contrapuntal to the scuff of Tim Foster's tennis shoes behind her, she could feel her cunt growing much hotter. The folds of her sex were blossoming like a swamp flower-and she was powerless to stop it!
She knew that what she was about to do was not only wrong, terribly immoral, but that it was foolish and very dangerous. On the other hand, Tim Foster already knew about the motel-and he was probably only following in the footsteps of his big brother, anyway. Just one small step away from being the same kind of cunt-crazy teenager as Pete!
They reached the room and she snapped on the light. The place was filled with dusty stacks of old newspapers and out-of-date magazines. Tim followed her inside, and then she shut the door and thanked God that there was a slip-bolt. She locked them inside, then turned back to the young boy with a small, warm smile on her lips.
"You want to see my pussy?" she asked, amazed at her own calmness. "Is that what you want?"
She saw the boy swallow, his small Adam's apple riding nervously up and down like a cork.
"And what are you going to show me, Tim."
"I-I don't know."
Her smile widened. It was the same feeling she had experienced with Willy. A feeling of complete control. A feeling that she could do anything she wished with a boy like this.
"I'll show you my pussy, Tim-if you will show me your prick."
She saw Tim Foster blush hotly, but the flicker of interest in his horny eyes told her that he would do exactly as she asked.
"I-I'm not as big as old Pete," he stammered.
"Show me. Show me how big you are."
"You show me first."
She almost laughed-despite the fact that she was enjoying their little game to the hilt. It would have been much more appropriate, she knew, if she had been fourteen, too!
Slowly, teasingly, she raised the hem of her skirt, inching it up under his hypnotized gaze until the white slip alone was showing.
And then she lifted her slip up all the way to her panties.
She was stimulated just by the hungry way in which Tim Foster drank in the revelations. It even made her wonder if the little devil had ever seen a pussy in his life!
"Take off your panties," he whispered, impatiently.
"You take them off for me. I have my hands full."
She was tingling all over as he approached her, and the moment she felt his fingers slipping into the top of the elastic band of her panties large goose bumps of pleasure broke out over her thighs.
He was too inexperienced to get her panties off smoothly, as his big brother would have done, but the yanking and tugging produced the same results-and he didn't stop until he had the silky garment all the way down to her ankles.
"Jesus," he breathed, squatting in front of her and staring hard at the dark fuck of hair between her legs. "A real pussy!"
"Now let me see yours," she purred.
He didn't hesitate this time. He stood up like a smart little soldier and unbuttoned his fly, then dug inside with one hand and pulled out his already stiffened penis.
His cock was a horsy young thing-thick and long, and giving every promise in the world of growing in the next few years into the same kind of erotic weapon as his big brother's.
But the one quality Tim Foster's prick had which even his teenaged brother couldn't boast was the almost granite stiffness of it. It looked hard enough to hang a dozen horseshoes on!
"Lemme touch your pussy," Tim suggested, boldly.
"Do anything you want."
It was as if she had offered him a new baseball glove to play with!
He squatted between her legs again, this time with his hard cock sticking lewdly forward out of his pants, and he put one finger gingerly up to the pulsing crack of her cunt.
He wriggled his finger in the soft hair until he had the tip of it between the moist lips of her slit, then he twiddled it a bit deeper. Then deeper still.
She closed her eyes and the corners of her mouth pulled upward in a brazen smile.
"Yes," she mewed softly down at him, "yes, put your finger into me ... all the way in ... and move it around slowly ... slowly..."
On her command he worked his finger into her cunt to the second knuckle. Then he manipulated it in a circle, making her hole ooze with hotness, a throbbing wetness.
He continued fingering her for the next few delicious moments, even bringing her right to the edge of an orgasm before he pulled his finger away.
She opened her eyes just in time to see him smell and lick his finger-and that carnal honesty on his part made her seethe with a shameless lust.
She dropped to her knees until she was on a level with his stoutly erected cock. Then with a need humming in her throat, she ovaled her mouth over his lickerish prick and began greedily sucking him off.
He stood spellbound, hands at his sides, breath coming in hard gasps, looking down at the full-grown woman who was kneeling in front of him and sucking into her mouth the full length of his tool. It excited him to full pitch, and the roiling hotness of her soft, demanding tongue was making his prick grow larger and longer-edging itself into her throat like a baby snake!
She knew when he was close to coming. She could feel the column of his tasty young cock bloat into a final stiffness. And it was at that point that she reluctantly pulled her soft lips away from the glistening head of it.
"Don't stop," he whispered, desperately. "It feels good!"
"I want to feel good, too," she cooed back at him. "I want you to do that to me."
He gulped again, his face flushed with that uncontrollable sexual excitement that only a pubescent male can muster.
"Eat my pussy, Tim," she breathed, teasing him with the naughty words. "Suck the nice honey out of my hole-and I'll suck the honey out of yours!"
He didn't need a second invitation. With the agility of a young monkey, he was under and between her legs, nuzzling his eager tongue into the hairy maw of her cunt. She helped him by using her fingers to spread wide the lips of her sex, guiding him as he lapped and licked.
She was sure it was the first time he had tasted pussy-and just as sure that this initiation would make him a devoted addict for such novel sexual treats.
She stood above him, legs spaced apart, hunching down so that the nap of hair surrounding her cunt almost covered his face. And the lower she placed her thighs, the faster and juicier his frantic lapping became. His tongue drove lizard-like deep into the twitching hotness of her hole.
"Eat it!" she hissed. "Show me how much better you are than your brother!"
The challenge super-charged his efforts. He began to literally fuck her cunt with his ramming tongue.
She peaked a dozen times before the real orgasm began to ride through her thighs. And when the irresistible pleasure came over her, she threw back her head in one deep gasp of lust and pushed her sodden pussy hard against his sucking mouth.
Her liquids boiled over his chin, making him choke and grunt to take all she offered. But even when he tried to rise she held his head in place, forcing him to lap along the puffed lips of her twat until the last sluttish thrill had abated.
Her promise to finish sucking his cock took almost no time at all. Once on her knees again, with her lips and tongue working away in gluttonous, suctioning movements, he arched his back and fed a thick flood of boyish sperm against the rear of her throat.
She swallowed every drop of his molten spunk, then hungrily licked and teased his flagging young prick until it drooped against his crotch.
And even before she let her lips slide lovingly away from the slick, swollen head of his wet, satisfied young cock, she knew that the next time he would have to prove his real maleness to her.
The next time she would make him fuck her!