Chapter 2

THE HOUSEWIFE WHO OFFERS "ORAL PLEASURES" TO NEIGHBORHOOD BOYS

At age 41, Stella Barstow is beginning to show her age. She is on the plump side. Her face has just a few traces of wrinkles. Her breasts, once big and round and firm with nipples that were as thick and red as juicy strawberries, now show sagging on her pectorals. To add to Stella's distress, her husband, Phillip, age 43, is losing his interest in her. Since the couple has no children, middle-age can be a terrifying experience of frustration.

Philip Barstow is district sales manager for a large auto parts chain and this means he must travel frequently. He leaves Stella in lonely isolation which adds to her pent up sexual desires.

The night that changed everything took place when Stella wanted to have Philip in the conventional marital manner. She stroked his body and offered her naked breasts. "Can't you just work them over?" she begged. "I love it when your lips suck on my nipples."

Philip was non-pulsed. "Stella, I'm sorry but I just don't feel excited over you." Naked, he was showing signs of age in the form of a paunch, flaccid body. His once thick phallus was flaccid and non-responsive even when his wife gripped it in her fist and slid his foreskin in rhythmic manipulations. "Maybe it's overwork or something." He emitted a modest whimper when she continued to manually stimulate him and then rub his testicles. "It's going to take a long time," he said lamely.

Stella bit back her anger. She felt her desires hammering at the base of her head. "But I need something, Phil. I can't stand it any more." The bedsprings creaked beneath their combined weights as she moved. She put her mouth where her hand had been, then took her husband's male flesh within her moist orifice. She tongue-flogged and manipulated his scrotal sac at the same time, but the frustrations were increased when he failed to respond with the normal degree of rigidity.

When she released him, she swallowed down her thick sob. "Oh, Philip, if I don't get relief, I'll go out of my mind." She sprawled on the bed, lifted up her pelvis. "I feel the itch, like fire. It's burning." She used the heel of her palm to massage her raised pudenda, then used her thumbs and forefingers to part the outer lips of her mons veneris, exposing the moist delicately ridged woman flesh. The throbbing "button" of her clitoris, set in the upper folds of her vulvar groove, had likewise grown rigid and was hammering with carnal intensity. She looked lewd; but her face, screwed up in tormented frustration, was pitiful.

"What are you doing?" Phillip watched as his wife proceeded to fondle her clitoris. "Are you playing with yourself?" He was aghast. It made him all the more conscious of his embarrassing weakness. "Stella, I never...."

She was writhing now, the pupils of her eyes bulging, her face contorting. She breathed in short spurts. "Help me, Philip. I've got to have help...."

He pushed away her hand, then tried to mount her, but his flaccid, pendulous male flesh was a pitiful excuse for what he desired. He had to move away, then he started to kiss and fondle her.

"Go down," she gasped, "go down," she tried to lock his head between her well-formed thighs, but he resisted. He never did "that queer thing" and was not about to start now. "Ohhhh, please...." she whined through shocked tones.

"I'll do this for you," Philip conceded. He put his hand on her mons veneris. "I'll rub and spike you," he said lightly. It was his "escape" from normal male fulfillment.

"Stick your fingers in," she whined as she raised up her pelvis. "Ohhhhh, that feels good," she murmured as his forefinger and middle finger were inserted into the warm fleshly environments of her female vulvar groove. "Ohhhh," she gasped in gratitude to his rhythmic insertions. "Rub the little nubbin," she gasped again.

With his free hand, Philip twisted and tortuously manipulated her clitoris. He kept up this dual motion until she sighed, "Now, now, it's going to happen. Ohhhhh, here it ... ohhhhh, OOOOOOOO ... ahhhh...." She bounced up and down as she reached her vaginal climax. All sorts of sighs were heard as the voluptuous manually-induced release was achieved. She locked her thighs on Philip's hands and murmured, "If only it were the real thing."

The tense situation existed between them because Philip had succumbed to impotence on his part and accepted the defeatist-fatalistic attitude that it was part of his "advancing age."

Stella might never have considered seducing pubertal boys had it not been for a delivery boy, Johnny. He came with a package from a downtown store and Stella searched for a tip when she heard the boy say, "This'll help me take my girl to a movie."

"Oh," she liked the slim built youth with the shock of dark hair, like a Buster Brown cut, over his forehead. "You have a girl? How nice." She held several bills in her hand. She thought something over quite speedily. "I suppose you fool with a girl in the balcony."

Johnny flushed beet red, stomped nervously in the living room where he stood. He was a typical bashful boy. "No, ma'am. I don't want to get a girl in trouble."

Stella's heart pounded. He looked so young, so innocent. She wondered if he had a big male flesh. She saw the thick bulge in his crotch, the outline of his pouch. When he turned, she saw the hard-muscled young buttocks, not fully developed, but so tight against his "mod-style" bell bottoms, that the dividing gorge was clearly revealed. These young studs, she mused, showed it all off. She became stimulated.

"There are some things you can do that will get your rocks off, Johnny, and you won't get into trouble." She let her tongue dart over her lips. At the same time, she held several single dollar bills in her hands. "Don't you know about such things?"

He gaped at the words and now his ears burned red. At the same time, his thick crotch bulge began to swell. He stood there nervously. "No, I don't know, ma'am."

"Don't call me 'Ma'am,' but it's Stella." She liked this young innocent. Now she would be able to have her kicks because this boy virgin would go along with anything. He just did not know any better. She later found out he was just 15 and this added to the appeal. "Why don't you sit down and we'll talk it over?"

Johnny looked around. "Your husband? Won't he be home soon?"

"No, he's out of town." She motioned him to a chair, then sat down, crossed her legs, let her dress hike up to show off her fleshy thighs. She wore a pair of tiny panties. "You see, Johnny, girls have a little 'button' right here." She patted her crotch. "If you keep rubbing it, while the girl rubs ... your thing, then it kind of feels good. But the best thing is to kiss it." She let that sink in.

Johnny was so nervous, he kept on sweating. He wore a tight fitting Nehru shirt with an upturned collar that made him look very cute and boyishly fetching to the pedophiliac. "Well, ma'am, I mean, Stella, I don't know...."

"I'll bet you play with yourself." Stella laughed at his embarrassment. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of the boys, in fact most of them do it. Nothing bad. I mean, it won't stunt your growth or bring pimples out on your face." She was finding this increasingly stimulating, acting as a guide to this obvious boy virgin. Now she swooped down with, "But if you really want to have a good time, you should let your girl kiss it"

"She ... she wouldn't...." He was so upset and nervous, he could scarcely form his words. His face was shiny with beads of nervous perspiration. At the same time, when he sat and parted his strong thighs, the enormous bulge had lengthened into his thick power. "I don't know...."

"Don't be shy, Johnny." She got up, patted him on the back, liked his boyish "cute" looks with his long hair, the Nehru shirt and the skintight jeans. "I'll give you a nice big tip, but first I'll tell you something else. If you want to have a nice feeling, let a girl do this to you."

Impulsively, sparked by her own pounding heart and the drumming sensation, Stella's hand moved down. She fondled the bulge. Johnny whined and instinctively tried to shut his thighs, but she held his bulge.

"Just open the zipper," she instructed. When there was only a red-faced expression, Stella became annoyed. "I'll open it for you, damn it You're one wet-behind-the-ears kid, I'll say that."

The zipper was heard opening. When Stella's hand went into his fly, when she gripped the huge mound of boy-man flesh, she was astounded. She lifted out his enormous erection. "Hey, kid, you're like a mule." She slid his prepuce back and forth until the glans corona gleamed with bulging red translucent flesh. "Let me just cool it for you."

"No, no, I mean...." He was terrified. The boy tried to squirm but Stella held his phallus hard in her fist and then she was bending down. Her mouth opened and she took the glans corona between her teeth. A few tortuously gentle bites on the underside, and then Johnny was pounding with desire. "Ooooooo," he gasped as he pushed forth until the entire shaft was imprisoned in the oral cave. "That's good," he said through a tight voice. His body broke out in a sweat.

Stella oral loved his shaft a few times, while her hands cupped his scrotum. Then she released him. "We'll spoil our clothes. Let's take them off."

He was rigid with desire. "Can't we ... do it like this?" As a pubertal boy virgin who had never shown his nudity to anyone (in the school locker rooms or shower rooms, he was always the first to go in and out, fearing shame before the other naked boys), and was terrified over the prospect now. "I mean...." His throbbing shaft gleamed hotly.

"It's the wrong way, Johnny," she patted his cheek. "Come on now. We wouldn't want you to go off while we're talking."

She relished the idea of posing naked before him; it was her streak of exhibitionism that she loved. She got out of her dress quickly, then unhooked her bra. When her naked breasts plopped out, it made Johnny gape. She laughed as she hooked her fingers into the elastic band of her panties and slithered them down.

"Like them?" She knew in the heat of her pounding desire that even if her breasts were slightly sagging and her figure not up to the firmness and proportions of a teen-ager, this boy virgin would not know the difference. It was this innocence that appealed and aroused Stella. "Want to play with them?"

Johnny fondled them only after Stella took his hand and forced him to moist-palm rub her nipples. Then she said, "All right, out of your things."

She had to help him strip off. Stella knew that she would get him completely naked, without a stitch on. That would intensify his rigidity.

When Johnny was nude, he resembled a young Eden-like boy or one from the Grecian valley or mountains. His moppet hair made him look angelically innocent. He had very white skin, nipples like erasers on neatly chiselled pectorals; his rib cage was firm. His navel was a raisin in his very flat stomach. He had a thick, very thick wiry shrub that encased the enormous maleness of him. His legs were smooth and without any hair. Yet, he had promise of boy-man development. He trembled when Stella's hands went over his smooth boyish sinews.

"Like me to rub you?" she laughed, then went around, played her hands over the bent back, down the deeply indented spinal column. "You've got a nice bottom. Don't let any queers get it," but even as she said it, she knew he did not understand.

"Ooooo, I like that," he was shivering with nerve drenched thrills as he felt Stella's hands reach to the backs of his naked thighs, then she cupped his firm buttocks, pried them apart. "Ahhhhhh," he started to shiver as he felt her forefinger press between his two cheeks and play with his anal canal. "Ooooo, that's good, ma'am," he lapsed into his automatic respect for the older woman.

"I know it's good. It's what lots of boys like." When she tease-penetrated, it made him all but bolt forward. "Easy, easy," he laughed as she removed the penetrating finger from its warm environment, then caressed his perineum. Her mouth and fingers roused him until he gasped, "Oh, oh, I can't hold back!" He started to rock on the balls of his feet. "Please, please...."

"Now, good," she gasped as" she knelt before him. Her mouth enveloped him and she captured his rigid-as-steel male shaft in her oral prison. Her tongue worked on the delicate nerve endings; she did not have long to oral love. She felt the stiffening and through the rushing roar of wind, she then felt the hot gush of his peak. He kept on and on and on, while he garbled screwed-up words of tense feeling. He was in a backbreaking spasm by the time it was over.

Stella had serviced him for the first time. What added to the pleasure was that before he left Johnny had used his mouth on her. Innocently, he assumed it was the "big guy" act. He roused her to a peak and when he bit down on her clitoris, it was, using her own expression, like exploding all the frustrated tensions of the past.

Johnny was rewarded with an extragenerous tip. "Can I come back again?" he asked as he dressed. "Hey, quit fooling around," he laughed as he felt Stella's hands on his scrotum. "I gotta get dressed."

"Sure, you'll be welcome here anytime." Stella loved being naked in front of Johnny. She liked the way his eyes lit up as he saw her big breasts and her naked female parts. "I always tip generously for good service."

That was the first of a series of pedophiliac seductions. Stella then caught sight of a teenage boy who was watering the lawn of the house across the street. He was a cute boy with an impudent thrust of his jaw. He had white-blond hair, broad shoulders, narrow-narrow hips with tiny buttocks under his too-big khaki pants. He was cute to the point where Stella found herself imagining how he would react when he would be hot and naked. She decided to call him over to the house to water her lawn.

His name was Peter Janson and he was just 16 years of age. He wore a tight T-shirt that outlined his lean, wiry frame. "Morning, Mrs. Barstow." He had been summoned here to water the back yard. The fact that he lived right across the street did not preclude the desire to seduce him. It added a strange exhilaration. Stella would like having him, knowing that his parents, right across the street, were blithefully unaware of what was happening to their baby-faced boy.

"Oh, Peter, let's be informal." She wore a pair of shorts and a halter which contained her big breasts by a thread and a hope. She caught Peter's hot eyes as he saw the rigid nipples. "I'm Stella to you. Now, let's go in back and I'll show you where to connect the water hose." She knew Peter was watching the rounded arc made by her big buttocks as she walked.

In back, they were shaded in by trees. She knew she had stimulated Peter. Now she would prepare the seduction. Whoever said she was no longer attractive was all wet! She could attract these young bucks and that meant everything to her.

"Now, just screw around the nozzle and turn the knob."

Peter set up a fine water spray. That was when Stella "mistakenly" walked into it. She yelped. He yanked the hose out of the way but not before Stella was soaking wet. Her shorts and halter clung to her, outlining her raised pudenda, even the pelt of her crotch so that Peter was choked up and embarrassed.

"Gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you...." He kept gaping at her drenched shorts and halter that made her naked under the transparent cloth.

"I'll just change," she sputtered and hurried into the house. A moment later she called, "Peter, please bring me the towel on the backyard line."

When he brought it, she stood in the doorway of the bedroom, naked in her womanflesh. She felt her blood boil at the way the boy gaped at her nudity. At the same time, his obvious arousal swelled up.

"What's the matter, Peter? Didn't you ever see a naked girl before?" she came toward him, showing her intimate flesh. "Touch. Don't be afraid."

As before, she had to force his grubby, sweaty boy hands on her big breasts. It always thrilled her to the way these pre-adolescent boys touched her privates; so delicately, as if afraid to tread on forbidden territory. He was wide-eyed and trembling. "Maybe I shoulda knocked." His throat muscles were constricted and he was as nervous as a typical boy virgin.

"Now, now, Peter, you don't have to be afraid. Such a nice boy," she put her arm around his waist, then she fumbled with his pants. When she opened the buttons, she saw his hirsute adornment, then she lifted out his male flesh. He was so tight up, so tensed up, it was a miracle he did not erupt. "Mmmm, you are nice."

She pressed herself close and as they stood there, she guided his enormous male power deep within her vaginal orifice. She clung to him as they play-wrestled. In the midst of it all, they fell to the floor and in a few moments, he erupted. The hot spurts were like soothing balm to her tensed desires.

She undraped him and played with his wiry body. "Oh, Peter, don't look like that. It wasn't so bad. We just couldn't help ourselves."

"I never did it before." He was an unusual boy; he admitted being a virgin. "But it felt good."

She hugged his nude body and explored the nooks and crevices of his innocent purity. "It's supposed to be good. Now, don't tell anyone about it. They wouldn't understand."

Peter was another one of Stella's steady callers until the family moved away. By then, she was sure he was experienced to the point where he could satisfy any girl. She had taught him the most carnal arts so that he was obviously going to be perverted. One only wonders to what depths of depravity he will sink.

Stella would call up department stores for purchases, have delivery boys bring them. She favoured those stores that had very young boys. Sometimes, she could inveigle them to remain. A few boys were so terrified, they would flee if she would rub against them.

She had a telegram boy of about 14, with red cheeks, a pug nose, and a pre-pubertal body. He cowered in a corner when she opened her robe and exposed her naked body to his hot eyes.

"Please, Ma'am, I don't...." He broke out in a hot sweat.

"I'll rape you," she laughed as she teased him. Stella was so fired up, she had to have this little baby faced kid. She all but ripped off his clothes, then when she had him naked, she cupped his male flesh. He was, lamentably, undersized. He must have received a traumatic shock when she said, "Damn it, you're the smallest midget I ever had. You're not even much of a male." She saw that his scrotum was small and his erect phallus was like that of a 9 year old. "Well, I won't let it go to waste."

She mouthed him and brought him to an orgasm. But the die had been cast. She had taunted his maleness and this created such guilt feelings that the boy blurted out about a "dirty woman" who "played around."

That brought the authorities and Stella Barstow narrowly escaped being confined in an institution. Her husband was ruined by the scandal. They divorced after the nasty scandal and neither was heard from again after they packed up and left the town.

In this situation we can see that Stella's compulsion for young boys was borne out of a compulsion to be admired, to be worshipped. She felt herself a virile woman again when she could arouse an adolescent boy. It made her feel young again. She was too sexually egotistical, thinking only of herself. She never gave a thought to the warped shock she would induce upon her innocent boys.