Chapter 6
It was Wednesday, two days after Ella Courtnay had come to spend some time with her uncle and aunt. Marge Caspar had gone to bed about ten-thirty, complaining of a mild headache. It had been a warm, sultry day, but her husband thought he knew the real reason for her being out of sorts. The presence of dynamic Ella in her provocative hot pants costume had made Marge intensely aware that she was a good thirteen years older and hence less-likely to make him horny for her so long as his niece was around the premises.
That was perfectly all right with Jack Caspar. Indeed, it was part of his plan for getting Marge into his secret little club, if only to show Ella up and prove that she could be in her mid-thirties and still swing. Because in his opinion, when Marge prettied herself up and took some pains with what she wore, she was just as sexy a piece of pussy as anything around in Glendview. Besides which, Ella was just going to stay for two weeks, while he was married to Marge for life. Still in all, it wouldn't do any harm at all to get her annoyed, just enough so that she'd let her hair down and prove that she could be just as much a sexpot as Ella.
He was out in the kitchen about eleven-thirty for a bottle of beer and some cold chicken. He'd had another rugged day at the office, and sometimes he wondered whether the salary and bonus arrangement he had with Maxwell Denton was enough to make up for ruining his disposition. Long-winded conferences and bull sessions were really a waste of time and would have been better spent by working on copy and layouts for a client willing to spend real money.
He sat down at the kitchen table with his open can of beer and a chicken leg and let out a sigh of content. Friday was just two nights off and things were really going to start humming, or he missed his guess. He'd seen Matt, Dave and Pete at the station tonight and reminded them of the shindig; and they'd told him that it was all set and their wives were coming along.
As he gnawed the chicken leg, he frowned. Maybe he was counting too much on Ella to be the catalytic agent that would set sparks flying and solve the bedroom problems of his three friends as well as increasing his own pussy rations. Of course, he could be wrong about Ella.
Just because she showed off her legs and her tits, didn't mean she'd fuck with anybody. But from what he'd heard about this drip Larry Shanton she'd shaken off, he had a pretty good idea she just could be a real swinger. Well, Friday night would tell the tale.
"Raiding the icebox again, Uncle Jack?" a soft husky voice behind him nearly made him drop the chicken leg.
He gulped and turned red as he twisted round in the chair. "Ella! What are you doing up so late?"
"Oh, don't be like that, Uncle Jack. It's not even midnight. Anyhow, I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come out here and get something to eat."
He gulped again. Because she was wearing a shortie nightie; the black nylon sheath went down to mid-thigh and was so gauzy that he could see her nipples and the triangle of jet-black hair between those olive-skinned legs of hers.
"Say, is there any more of that chicken left, Uncle Jack?"
"S-sure, Ella. I'll get it for you. Want some beer, too?"
"That would be super! Say, this is real nice, a little party all to ourselves. like my nightie?"
"I ... I think it's terrific. But ... but maybe you better go put a robe on. Just in case Marge should wake up or something," his voice was unsteady as he opened the refrigerator and took out a can of beer and a chicken wing. "How's this? Or would you rather have a piece of breast?"
"That's funny," she giggled. "I could ask you the same question, Uncle Jack." She moved closer to him, her lips pursed in an appraising little smile. "But the wing will do fine to start with. You're real sweet. I'm sort of glad I came here this summer."
"So am I, Ella baby," he coughed nervously. "But I still think you ought to put a robe on. Here, why don't you take mine?"
She had taken the chicken wing and can of beer and gone back to his chair at the table, crossing her legs and leaning back so that her nipples prodded out against the clinging black nylon. As he took off his bathrobe, he glanced down at himself and gulped again. The white cotton pajama tops were fastened by just one button, and he'd only loosely tied the waist cord of the pajama bottoms.
"Here you are, Ella," he nervously repeated.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Uncle Jack, you've seen girls in nighties before," she giggled as she looked tauntingly up at him, then took a hearty bite out of the chicken wing, picked up the beer can and washed it down with a long swing. The movement made her titties thrust even more enticingly against the diaphanous bodice of her nightie.
She took another swig of beer, then set the can down quietly and winked at him. "This is really cozy, Uncle Jack. You know, I sort of figured I'd be bored to death out here this summer, but just maybe I'll have some fun. Lots more than I had back home, that's for sure."
As he lit a cigarette he sat down on the little step ladder near the refrigerator, and said, "From what your folks told me, Ella, you were just about ready to walk down the aisle with that fellow of yours; and then you gave him the brush off. Why?"
She crinkled her nose. That creep! I'm sure glad I found out about him before we got married, or the little men in the white coats would have come to take me away a couple of weeks after I had said yes. Can you imagine, Uncle Jack? Here we were engaged and we were setting a date, and I wanted the big lug to boff me so we could both find out how we worked together in bed, and he gave me the line about wanting to save it till the wedding night. And the way he said it, you'd think I'd been a hustler who walked up to him and propositioned him for dough. In this day and age, yet!" She rolled her eyes expressively.
"It is a little old-fashioned," he admitted. He glanced stealthily at the flexing columns of her beautifully rounded thighs, shaped out by the clinging nightie. Crossed as her legs were, the hems had hiked a little, and the smooth olive satin of her calves and lower thighs made his prick throb excitedly.
"I hope to tell you it's old fashioned, Uncle Jack! Not only that, I asked Larry if he'd ever laid a girl before, and he said no. Oh sure, he'd read all the books, but he was still jacking off whenever he got hot flashes. Boy, I tell you, it was a good thing I got out of that hook-up! Why I'll bet if I married him, we'd have been doing the missionary position for the rest of our lives."
He hadn't quite expected such candor, and his face was flushed as he cleared his throat and tried hard not to look at her legs, for now she was swinging the uppermost one and wriggling her foot in and out of the slipper. The dainty rounded heel, the exquisite sculptuary of the arch and instep, and the flexions of her slim bare ankle added to his arousal. So much so, indeed, that he had to cross his own legs to hide from her the swelling at his crotch.
Ella Courtnay abruptly rose and walked over to him, hands on her hips, cocking her head at him with an engaging smile. "I'll bet you're not that square, Uncle Jack. You know, even when I was a little girl, I sort of went for you, did you know that?"
"That's a real compliment, honey. You always were a cute little trick."
"Well, now that I'm grown-up, what do you think of me? Take a look at the merchandise."
Jack Caspar gulped again. He nodded, "You don't have to fish for compliments, Ella baby, You've got it made. Look, it's getting late, why don't you put on my bathrobe or maybe go back to bed?"
"Now, you know you don't mean that, Uncle Jack," she teased. Her soft fingers brushed his shoulders as she bent to him and kissed the tip of his nose. "What are you worried about? Aunt Marge is sawing wood for sure. I heard her snoring when I came out here. Afraid she'll read you the riot act if she catches you out here with me in my shortie?"
His face reddened. "Of course not," he muttered. "She knows who's the boss of this family. Anyhow, you're my niece, so what's wrong with our being out here?"
"That's what I say. Only, you know something, Uncle Jack? I don't think of you as kinfolk exactly, not right now, anyway. I'll bet you're a real swinger. I'll bet you could forget you were my uncle without hardly trying."
"Now wait a minute, baby. Don't talk like that, or...."
"Or what?" she whispered, as she bent still further and kissed him on the mouth. Her soft lips lingeringly clung to his, and he could smell the perfume of her hair and of her skin. Instinctively his hands went out to fend her off, but instead they pressed against her titties. And that completely undid him. Those firm boldly thrusting pears were wonderfully resilient; and they felt just about naked through that filmy nylon she was wearing. He uttered a groan, and then kissed her back, his hands cupping her titties greedily.
"Yummy!" she breathed as she straightened after the kiss. "I knew you weren't a square. And I feel about you just the way I did when I was a kid, the last time you came to visit us. Don't you remember how I sat on your lap and pulled your hair until you said you were going to spank me? I wouldn't have minded if you had, Uncle Jack. What would you do if I were to sit on your lap now and pull your hair again?"
Without waiting for an answer, she saucily plumped herself down on his lap and circled his neck with her left arm. Then, teasingly, she put out her right thumb and forefinger and playfully plucked out a sprig of his dark brown hair.
"Now you cut that out, Ella!" he grumbled, his voice thick and unsteady. Her jouncy oval cheeked bottom was pressing down hard against his crotch, and he knew what was going to happen if she kept that up for any length of time.
"Are you going to spank me if I pull some more hair, Uncle Jack?" she huskily murmured, and suited action to word.
"Oww! Now, I told you, honey, cut that out!" he warned, and gave her thigh a playful slap.
"Pooh! That didn't hurt a bit! If that's the best you can do, I'll just keep on with my little game. It's just like old times, isn't it, Uncle Jack?" she giggled. And once again she reached for a sprig of his hair and yanked it out.
"Okay, you asked for it. And you better not start bawling, or your Aunt Marge won't be sawing wood much longer," he growled. Seizing her by the waist, he lifted her off his lap only to turn her back down across it, and slid his right leg out to clamp over her bare calves. His left palm pressed down on the small of her back, he lifted his right hand and applied an energetic slap to the right cheek of her behind.
"Mmmmm, that's nice," she sighed, wriggling around on his lap and looking back at him with humid eyes. Her palms balanced on the floor, and the shortie nightie had fucked up to the base of her bottom. Jack Caspar's eyes fixed on those beautifully rounded thighs and he could see just a glimpse of the black silky curls framing her love nest. He applied a second spank even more energetically to the other cheek, and this time she kicked up one pretty leg and the slipper fell off, she called out "Ooooh!"
"I told you not to yap, baby, you'll wake her up for sure," he warned. "Now you just lie there and take your medicine!" Then he added two more slaps, one to each jutting summit, and Ella Courtnay gasped and wriggled some more. Her movements hiked the nightie up still more, and now he could see the deep shadowy groove between the cheeks of her voluptuous bottom and the soft pink lips of her cunt nestling inside the thicket of black love curls. His prick was savagely rampant by now.
Now his left arm curved round her supple waist, and he began to spank her in earnest, alternating on the cheeks with rapid though stinging slaps, trying to minimize the noise lest Marge be roused from blissfully oblivious slumber.
The petite brunette gasped and sighed, constantly turning her face back toward him, kicking her legs in a frantic flurry which sent the other slipper flying. When he paused, the lower part of her bottom which was by now fully disclosed with a bright flushed pink, contrasting with the warm olive satin of her naked thighs and calves.
"There," he panted, "maybe that'll teach you I mean what I say. Now, you go right back to bed, Ella, unless you want some more!"
She slipped down off his lap, her eyes sparkling, her nostrils flaring and her lips parted and moist. "That really didn't hurt a bit," she breathed, linking her arms round his neck and putting her lips very close to his. "What if I won't go back to bed, would you give it to me harder on the bare? My nightie got in the way, so I didn't feel very much, you know, Uncle Jack."
"You little devil, cut it out now!" he growled. The torture of his stiff aching prick was almost unbearable this time.
Her left arm went round his shoulders; and then he uttered a stifled, incredulous gasp. Ella had reached down with her right hand and with thumb and forefinger given his stiff prickhead a naughty little pinch. It was bulging against the fly of his pajama pants, demanding liberation.
"Suppose I pull that instead, what would you give me, Uncle Jack?" she cajoled.
"Look out now, Ella, you're asking for it!" he hoarsely gasped. He rose from the rubberized seat of the little stepladder and gripped her wrists as he stared into her tantalizingly lovely face. "Fun's fun, but enough's enough, too."
"I thought you weren't a square, Uncle Jack. Anyhow, you're sure not acting like an uncle towards me. Just look how big he is! Did I do that to you? Then I ought to take it down, don't you think? she purred.
Before he could anticipate or interrupt her next move, Ella Courtnay had gone down on her knees, unbuttoned the fly of his pajama pants and taken out his prick, cupping it between her soft warm palms. Then she bowed her head towards it and her red lips brushed the bulging, puckering tip.
"Ella...what the hell...Ella...look out now.... " his voice was trembling. He reached out his hands to cup her cheeks and to push her away, but his provocative niece would have none of it. Her mouth absorbed the plum-shaped head of his prick, and he felt the sloshing of her nimble pink tongue back and forth against the lips of the meatus, as if urging his juices to flow in abandon.
"Oh, my God, Ella, you sweet little bitch ... this is crazy ... but don't stop ... don't leave me like this now ... oh, baby!" he moaned.
Ella Courtnay didn't leave him. Artfully, with rapid suctions of her soft lips and curlings of her agile tongue, her hands stroking the backs of his thighs and bottom, she drew Jack Caspar to a shattering orgasm right into her saucy mouth, and downed his offering without even a grimace. When she rose, at last, breasts rising and falling quickly, she whispered huskily. "I'm not a teaser, Uncle Jack, When I get a man worked up, I want to take care of him. That's what got me so darned mad about Larry, he wouldn't even get a hard-on for his own wife-to-be. Oh, darling, this is going to be the best summer ever, you wait and see!"
And then, as he stood there dazed and incredulous, his limp prick still hanging out of his pajama pants, she blew him a kiss and disappeared.