Chapter 6
BARRY: STUD SERVICE FOR ADULT WOMEN
In a few moments, they were on a first-name basis. Nora Thurston told him, "Barry, just strip yourself down and leave your clothes over there. We have a hot air dryer around and I'll see that your clothes are nice and dry. But you best get under that hot shower. I wouldn't want you to catch cold."
"Okay. If you're sure I'm not putting you out or anything." He was still shy to the point where he could not bring himself to being normally agressive. It was a pattern that would remain with him permanently. He was one of many adults who could not cope with the mature responsibilities of agressive maleness. "I mean, you may be expecting your husband."
"I don't have a husband," with a slight twinge of distaste. "I'm free and independent and I do whatever I want." Then she motioned to the bathroom. "Go on, Barry. The steam's clouding up. I'd like you to be nice and warm."
Barry shuffled nervously in his wet and soggy feet. "Thank you, Mrs....I mean, Nora." He was aware of her eyes on him as he headed toward the frosty glass enclosed stall shower in the marble and glass bathroom. It was so pink and feminine here, even down to the statue of a pair of nude Greek goddesses, that it made Barry wonder what this would lead to.
He closed the bathroom door and quickly slithered out of his wet clothes. He did feel clammy and wet and it was a relief when he finally took off his jock strap. Naked, he caught a fleeting glimpse of himself in a ceiling to floor mirror made of some extra material that precluded steam clouding.
Barry flushed slightly at his aroused desire. Just removing his clothes created that embarrassed arousal. It was one reason why he hated going to the school shower rooms or locker rooms to change clothes. He knew the other boys would laugh and jibe at him. Some even sideswiped his erection and this made him so red-faced, he would punch and kick at them, while his enormous over-developed power would waver in unison with his swinging scrotum. He was glad to be out of school. Now, he had nothing to hide.
He ran his hands over his broad chest, then down to the flanks. He knew, with a typical adolescent Narcissustic streak, that he was damn good looking. He had let his hair grow overly long now that he was rid of school. It gave him an impish Buster Brown appearance that he knew was appealing. He also favoured tight pants, a Mod-style jacket, the latest Nehru or hippie design shirt and the customary motorcycle boots. It brought out the best in him. As yet, he did not know it would be his ticket to becoming a stud for adult women in lonely apartments and houses on his delivery route.
He stepped into the marble tub and stood under the warm needle spray shower. He let it soak his every pore, thrilling to the sheer goodness of it all. Now the chill of the rain-swept outside was vanishing. He dipped his hands into some fragrant liquid soap, started to soap his body, bypassing his sex because he knew that if he would slide his flesh, he would be unable to control himself.
He was so absorbed in the pleasurable sensations of the shower, he had not heard the bathroom door open. Not until a cooling draft made him aware that the door was open did the slippery and soapy boy turn.
"Oh, I...." He was red-faced as he stammered in embarrassment to the older woman, Nora Thurston. "What...?"
She gaped at the enormous power that protruded from the boy's groin. "Why, Barry, are you ... playing with yourself? You shouldn't have to do that. I mean, a nice, handsome boy like yourself should have plenty of girls. And from what I can see, you have lots to offer." She reached out and before Barry could dart away on the slippery marble tub, he felt her hands enclose around his soapy erection. It sent the most exotique sensation coursing through his loins.
"What ... do you mean?" He felt his throat go parched and dry. His heart hammered. He felt a million pinpricks stabbing into his most delicate flesh. "I wasn't playing around."
"Then how do you answer this?" she insisted, disregarding the flow of the shower that was wetting her expensive negligee. Her breasts pushed tight against her bra; underneath, the nipples were growing rigid with reflex desire. She always thrilled to a youthful body. She was a typical body-lover among adult women. "How did this happen?"
"P-please," he winced, as he felt her fingers tighten around his throbbing male shaft and make a few peck-peck-peck stabs. "I ... I'm always hot. I mean, I get this way when I take off my clothes." He tried to extricate himself but now Nora had cupped his testicles. The feel of her fingertips on the underside of his scrotum as he rolled his oval spheres around, was the most delicious thrill he had ever thought possible. It was threatening to drive him out of his mind in explosive reaction.
"Then you should have more fun. If you want to make the most of it, you should put it to use." Then she released him, while she ran her hands over his slippery wet buttocks and the rears of his thighs. "You're a handsome young boy. You must drive the girls wild."
With typical pubertal innocence and unawareness, he blurted out, "Naw, I don't fool too much. Girls are always expecting me to do all the work!"
Nora Thornton's eyes were lust filled. "Then you need a few lessons. Just wash off your soap and then come outside. We'll have some nice hot chocolate before the warm fireplace and we'll talk. Oh, you're not on working hours, are you?"
He nodded his wet head. His thick hippie-long hair was plastered to his head and this only added to his boyish appeal. "Naw, I'm all through. I don't have to go home if I don't want to. The folks left some food for me in the 'frig' because they're goin' to some meetin' or some-thin'." He always affected this tough, swagger talk because he felt it made him more masculine.
This was just another of Barry's attempts to act the male role when, subconsciously, he felt pangs of failure at being able to fulfill the obligations of aggressive maleness.
"Good, good. Maybe you'll even have a bite to eat." She picked up his soggy clothes. "I'll get these dried off." As she bent over, she let her well-shaped bottom protrude so that the boy could get an eyeful. Nora always derived a warped thrill out of exhibiting herself before pubertal boys. She was an exhibitionistic sort; she could not derive the same satisfaction when displaying her breasts or female genitalia to an adult male since the latter would be more experienced and beyond the "shock stage." This added to her cravings for youthful boy studs.
Moments later, dripping wet, but pleasingly warm and tingly, young Barry appeared timidly on the cream colored thick rug of the huge sunken living room. He had wrapped himself in a pink terry cloth robe. Beneath, he felt his throbbing powers.
"Ohhh, now you look so nice and cute. Come here, boy." Already, Nora was seizing the initiative. She would tell him exactly what to do; thus, she would be relieving him of the masculine role that he could not exert. "Now, just sit on this hassock before the fire. Drink this hot chocolate."
Meekly, he obeyed her. He liked sipping the hot chocolate; the lapping flames of the wood-burning fireplace made him feel all the better. He looked at the older woman, knowing that she would make the next move. This was so different from his other experiences when the burden of conquest was placed on his shoulders. Now he could free himself from such obligations and provide stud service for his own sexual satisfaction.
"It's sure nice, Nora, of you," he sipped the drink. "I mean, it sure is a mean night out."
Nora looked intently at him. She fumbled with her sash. "It's a perfect night to be indoors, before a warm fireplace. Do you feel better?" She put her hand on his knee and felt him start.
"Yeah."
"But you're so excited, so tense. I saw what you were doing in the bathroom. I'm sure you don't have to do that. I'll bet you have lots of girl friends. But you'll probably hurt them. You're kind of big." She let her tongue lap her lower lip. "This younger generation. They're bigger and better. Some of these 12 and 13 year boys are enormous. You'd never believe it."
"Well, I don't know." This intimate talk made him shy. "I don't fool with boys. But I've had a lot of girls," he made with the typical adolescent brags of conquest. "Some of 'em can't take me. The last girl I had, she didn't let me do it to her."
"Oh? Then what happened?" She let her hand travel up Barry's inner thigh, exploring his young, firm flesh. "Tell me."
He swallowed as he felt the fingertips search for his most delicate parts. He parted his thighs. It felt damn good to let a girl do it all. He just had to let her work him over, that's all.
"Well I told her to 'kiss 'it' but she would not."
Nora was visibly aroused. "Do you like it that way?"
He flushed darkly. "Sort of."
"Put down the cup, Barry. That's right. Now, I want you to stretch out on this rug before the fire."
Rising excitement manifested itself in Barry's pounding heart. Every nerve was taut and strained. Every part of him was alive and throbbing. "Yes, ma'am."
He stretched out as directed. A moment later, there was a click. The lights were extinguished. Now, the licking flames from the fireplace created strangely exciting illuminated shadows over the exotique furniture.
With pounding heart, he just lay stretched out. His groin itched with the most maddening insistence. Barry felt that this was IT.
Nora stood before him, like a dominant giantess. She resembled the agressive-superior female image that catered to Barry's passive attitudes.
"Just watch me." She undid her sash, let the robe fall down. "See? I'm pretty." It was as if she wanted his approval. "Now, I'll take these things off." She unhooked her bra, tossed it to the floor. Her huge breasts bounced free. She had spreading areolars, over a huge part of her breasts. The dividing line was wide. Nora was showing signs of sagging. Her naked midriff was protruding. The rounded bowl of her tummy would soon sag even further. Now she hooked her fingers into the elastic band of her panties. With a strange exhibitionistic posture, she slithered out of her panties, down over her knees. When she bent, her huge breasts shook and shivered. Finally, she kicked off her panties and stood nakedly before him.
"Gosh, you're pretty." At his age of innocence, 16-year young Barry could not differentiate between firm and flabby flesh. A naked girl was a naked girl. It was this innocence that endeared him to these warped adult women. "Can I touch them?"
She laughed as she squatted beside him, then took his flesh in her warm hands. "You're so silly. Of course, baby boy, you can touch them." She let him fondle her breasts. "Pinch the nipples. That's it. Now, run your hands down over my stomach. Ooooo, that's the way. You have a nice touch. Now, touch me ... there ... go on ... GO ON!!!"
Barry still hesitated. A childish fear of punishment for touching the forbidden genitalia still pervaded his arrested sexual maturity. "Okay." His hands found her vulvar groove and now he parted the lips. He inserted one finger, made her yelp. He played that way as she closed her thighs on his wrist. Then she twisted her body.
Her mouth was everywhere.
Barry went rigid with sensual arousal. He released his finger. He cared naught about exciting Nora. All he now wanted was the excitingly delicious feel of her hot lips and nipping teeth as she started the oral route that would culminate in fellatio.
"Oooo, that feels good," he gasped as he worked his arms out of his terry cloth robe. "That's the way. Go all over me. Ahhhhh," he made other garbled sounds and whimpers of pent up tensions. "That's the way...."
"I'll just kiss you to pieces," laughed Nora, already flush-faced and writhing with ardor over her young boy stud. "Youth, youth, so nice and firm." She turned him over. "Bottoms up, baby boy." She worked swiftly to slide the robe from beneath his quivering body. Now she had him naked and hot. "You've got a beautiful body, Barry-boy."
He pounded the floor with both fists in another moment. "Yeeee-OOOO-ooooo...."
Nora had taken his buttock cheeks, pried them apart, then her tongue stabbed until the helpless boy screamed, "I'm going crazy, Nora. Now! I want it now ... oh please, please...." He was burning up. A hammer slammed itself at the base of his skull. Every nerve, every fibre was alive and throbbing and demanding release.
"Yes, baby boy, oh yes," she used her mouth up and down the broad back, then she turned him over. "You're a hot kid," she whispered.
Her head dipped. While she tweaked his nipples, she let her mouth roam into the most provocative reaches of his flesh, while her fingers twisted flesh, cupped his oval spheres in each hand and prodded gently.
"Easy, easy," in a tight voice as the boy reared up, thrust forth his pelvis. "Ahhhhhh, orrrrragr ... mmmmmm," he was sighing as his hot, feverish male flesh was now immersed in the cool oval cave of lustful captivity. "That's it ... ooooOOOOO, now, it's ... it's...." His body tensed up.
Every muscle and every fibre grew taut on his sheen-glazed young physique. There was a split second of tension. Barry thought his head would be torn loose.
His blood pounded.
He wanted to scream.
Suddenly, the dam broke loose!
He shrieked as he felt the eruption sear through his groin. Wave after wave, tidal wave eruptions ripped through his innards and spewed forth in a series of hot, torturous eruptions.
"Mmmmm, ahhhh," gasped Nora as she savoured of the Fountain of Youth. She kept on and on, creating the most agonizing sensations while the boy's very elixir of youth ebbed forth.
With a great heave and sigh, the depleted Barry sank down on the ground again. "Oooo, Nora, that sure felt good. Ahhh, it was great, Nora." He felt so happy, he wanted to sing. This older woman really knew the tricks. He always wanted it this way.
Nora laughed shrilly as she released him; then she squatted beside him. "Here, Barry, be a good boy. Just rub. Ahhh, you young whelps really know how to grope a girl." Then she checked herself. She had to refrain from referring to herself as a "girl" since she was well past that desired age. Still, this young boy made her feel so young.
Oh, so young again.
"That's the way. Use both fingers." She tightened her milky thighs on his wrist, imprisoning him. She looked positively ecstatic and delirious with joy. "Ooooooo, it feels nice. Keep on. Rub my little button."
He wrinkled his brow. "Button? What's that?" He kept on finger-manipulating her pudenda, fondling her mons veneris, inserting his two fingers to simulate coitus. "I dunno."
"Never mind. Never mind. With what you have," she fondled his still rigid maleness, making him shiver and laugh, "you don't have to care about what a girl has."
A few more manipulations during which Barry said, "My hand's getting tired," and then Nora felt it.
"Little more ... ahhhhh, now...." She constricted her pelvic muscles, rocked on her heels, threw her head back; her saucer-round breasts rolled on her rib cage. Her tummy kept going in and out. Her mouth opened wide; she made sucking sounds as she erupted into a manual-induced orgasm. Again and again the rocking spasms tightened.
Barry was fascinated with it. He was actually giving a "hand job" to this older dame. He never thought dames went for it. He did not really care. Right now, he felt that the pressures of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. The yoke had been removed. This woman had done "the book" with him and all he had had to do was lie back and let her take over. It was wonderful!
He reasoned, Could he ever get a girl his own age to do that?
Obviously, no.
Much later, the two of them washed in the shower. It was kind of groovey, to use Barry's own expression, to have this older woman soap and wash him, then fluff dry him. It made him feel so comforted. So secure.
"Now, you be sure and go straight home," Nora admonished, after she watched him put on his dried clothes. "I wish we could have something to eat but there's no time. I've got to play cards with some friends."
He flashed a grin, looking more boyishly mischievous than ever.
"You ate plenty tonight, ma'am. There's lots more, when you want it."
"Just give me a call. I'll write my number down."
There were many such get-togethers. Nora was one who liked to dominate a boy and use his body for her own oral cravings. She disdain-ed normal intercourse; she always said it was hurtful. She had a neurotic attachment to her "independence" and did not want to surrender it to a man and this made her an agressive fellatrice (a female who performs fellatio or oral-genital orgasm).
As for Barry, he has met other women on his telegram delivery route. Some are in their late 40's. All are "hot" for a young virile boy. He is slowly becoming completely passive where he just lies inert while they perform their oral acts upon him. Otherwise, he is unable to function. Here is a typical example of the type of boy who is sought after by adult female pedophiliacs. He is normal in almost all respects except that his libidinal impulses have become fixated at the pure-physical level and he seeks satisfaction solely by means of his own orgasm. There is no emotion, no feeling of love or affection. One can only wonder at the fate of Barry and many others like him when he has passed his prime of life.
Will he then be able to reconcile with the obligations of masculinity?
Or will he experience a serious traumatic shock? Time will tell.