Chapter 3
During the summer, meals in the Danielson House refectory were provided cafeteria-style, and so Myra Castlebar had taken a tray, chosen a generous serving of lamb stew, filled a bowl with tossed salad and added French dressing to it, a roll and two pats of butter, and a dish of caramel custard and a cup of coffee, then walked slowly towards a table in the rear of the well-lighted, spacious school dining room. A few moments later, Dr. Penelope Fielding entered, spied the lone occupant and, taking a closer look, smiled to herself. As she went down the self-service line, white-haired, fat Mrs. Hertha Kranz, who presided as cook, bade her a respectful good evening to which she affably responded. For the Lesbian medico, salad, a roll without butter, and coffee without cream or sugar sufficed as her evening repast. Lithe and poised, she moved quickly towards the table where Myra Castlebar sat, set her tray down and cheerfully greeted the newcomer to Danielson House. "You must be our new instructress."
"I ... I suppose I am. My name's Myra Castlebar."
"Oh yes, of course! Miss Danielson told us that you would probably be here this evening. I'm Dr. Penelope Fielding, but you can call me Penny if you like. May I sit here?"
"Please do!"
"Thanks." The auburn-haired Lesbian seated herself beside Myra, critically examining the new instructress. Satisfied with what she saw, she attacked her salad voraciously, broke the roll daintily and popped a small piece into her sensuous mouth, and then casually remarked, "By the way, Miss Danielson wants you to have a physical. Just routine, of course, but why not get it over with tonight, right after supper? Then you'll be all set to take your first class Monday morning. Of course, Miss Danielson will want to see you sometime tomorrow after lunch, to tell you about your new duties."
"Why, I guess that will be all right," Myra Castlebar stammered. Glancing up, she had observed Penelope Fielding's intent look, and she couldn't help blushing.
"Good. When we've finished, then, you might as well come back to my office. How do you like Danielson House?"
"It's very lovely, from what Pve seen of it. How many pupils are there here?"
"About a hundred. Of course you'll handle the girls. We have three fellows here for the boys. Have you done much teaching?"
"Some," Myra Castlebar uneasily admitted, "but mostly I did tutoring."
"Well, that can be even more fun," the auburn-haired woman smiled knowingly.
Fifteen minutes later, more and more ill at ease, Myra Castlebar found herself at the very office where not long before Maxine Talbot had been compelled to gamahuch the stunningly handsome young woman who now casually encouraged her, "You might as well take off everything except your garter belt and stockings, Myra dear. After all, I do have to make a thorough examination. It wouldn't do to have someone here with any communicable diseases, you know. Of course I'm sure you're sound as a dollar."
"Do I ... do I have to get all naked?" Myra was flustered, and showed it by blushing more hotly than ever.
Penelope Fielding had pulled her glossy white uniform over her dress to look her role, and adjusted a pair of rubber gloves on her slim hands, then lit a cigarette.
"Good gracious, Myra, you can't be that prudish in this day and age, nobody is!" She laughed softly. "Of course you have to get naked so I can examine both front and back ... I'm sure you understand. What have you got to hide, anyhow? From what I see already, you've got a perfectly gorgeous figure. I wish I could eat the way you did tonight, but I have to watch my calories. You're the lucky kind who probably doesn't have any trouble, I'll bet."
"I ... I do keep the same weight most of the time," the black-haired young woman stammeringly admitted. Then, reluctantly, she began to draw off her dress, not seeing the sudden glint of sensual interest in Penelope Fielding's attentive eyes.
As the slip followed, Dr. Penelope Fielding's gaze grew even more intense and rapt. The warm creamy skin so generously displayed between the nylon stocking tops and the legs of Myra's modestly cut white nylon panties, as well as between the waistband and the narrow bandeau of her matching bra, had a sensual, rich, alabaster tone which thoroughly made the Lesbian's fingers itch to caress and stroke and palpate. It was, indeed, with difficulty that she restrained herself. It would never do to affront this luscious dish right from the start, she told herself. And judging from the brunette's shyness of having to undress before her, Dr. Penelope Fielding was almost willing to wager that Myra Castlebar was an untouched virgin.
"Just slip out of your panties, dear," she huskily murmured as she strove to maintain a thoroughly professional attitude and moved over to the cabinet beside the door to procure her stethoscope. Adjusting it, she walked back to the examining table and then drew a deep breath, her eyes blazing with longing. Biting her lips and extremely nervous, Myra Castlebar stood in garter-belt, bra, nylons and pumps, and one slim hand was edging very close to the surprisingly thick and very black bush of cunt hair which made her creamy white skin all the more intoxicating to the sight.
Myra's tits were high-perched, widely spaced, and exuberant in their cantaloupe-like proportions, but without excess. The aureolae were narrow but of a dark coral that was really exquisite in contrast to her white skin, and her nipples were dainty and crinkled nubs which promised an exquisite sensitivity to the touch of fingers or lips or tongue.
Her waist was slim, and the deep and very narrow niche of her navel marked the smooth flatness of her lovely belly on whose lower plane the black follicles of pussy hair began to grow most luxuriously. Indeed, the soft lips of her virgin cunt were almost entirely concealed by that fleecy adornment, and gusseted along the perineal groove almost to her voluptuous rosebud of an ass-hole.
Her bottom cheeks were upstandingly rounded and set closely together, set off all the more by the long gracefully sculptured columns of her quivering thighs. Her calves were high-set, sinuous, nervously muscled, and the practiced eye of Dr. Penelope Fielding instantly discerned the rippling tremors along Myra's calves and lower thighs as a very definite sign that the new instructress found being naked even in front of her a rather trying ordeal ... all of this augured very well for the future!
"First, I'll take some vital statistics, dear," the Lesbian murmured as she picked up a pad of paper and a ballpoint pen from the desk to one side of the cabinet and came back to the quivering, almost nude brunette. Of course she could have gotten these items at the time she procured the stethoscope, but it suited her purpose to prolong this examination so she could regale herself as long as possible with this vision of loveliness. There was no doubt about it, Myra Castlebar was one of the choicest pieces of pussy who had ever come to Danielson House ... and Dr. Penelope Fielding knew very well that so far as coming was concerned, she definitely intended to make Myra do just that as soon as it was practicable to seduce this exciting specimen.
"Now then, any childhood diseases, Myra?"
"No, just whooping cough, and I had my tonsils out when I was six," the brunette confided in a nervously unsteady voice. Standing, facing the auburn-haired medico, she was more and more distressed about having to remain unclad, and by now her hand had crept down to cover her cunt-hole, just as if she were being examined by a male doctor.
This stealthy maneuver did not go unnoticed by Dr. Penelope Fielding. "Now then, how old are you?" she pursued.
"Twenty-seven."
"Ever married or had children?"
"Oh, no!" the reply was almost explosively proffered, and Myra Castlebar's cheeks richly flamed once again.
"Step on that scale there, dear," Dr. Penelope Fielding directed, her eyes greedily observing the undulating tremors which surged through that wonderfully creamy, firm, juicily rounded behind as Myra Castlebar obediently moved forward towards the wall and stepped on the scale.
"Your weight is ideal, really it is," the perverse medico observed with a wry smile. "I really envy you that figure of yours, Myra. How did you manage to escape getting married, a dish like you?"
"I ... I never met anybody I cared for," Myra Castlebar tried to make her reply as quick and decisive as possible, for this was hardly a subject she cared to dwell upon and for very excellent reasons. But of course Dr. Penelope Fielding interpreted that reply to her own intended sensual advantage.
"I see. Well now, let me check your pulse and then your heartbeat, dear." She took hold of Myra's left wrist, closed her eyes and silently counted. "Sound as a dollar, certainly no high blood pressure here. Now then, the heart." Opening her eyes and smiling engagingly at the vividly blushing brunette, she put the stethoscope against Myra's heart, pressing firmly against the thin nylon bra-cup and mentally telling herself here was a wonderfully resilient pair of boobs just made for kissing and petting. If she had donned the rubber gloves, it was to convey a scientific and impersonal tone to this examination, which was really more for her own sensual edification (as well as that of Helga Danielson) than for the school's official dossier.
Myra sucked in her breath, pressed her hand even more tightly over her cunthole, and closed her eyes as tightly as she could. A long shiver ran through her almost naked body, and Dr. Penelope
Fielding felt her own pulses quicken to the feminine allure this sweet, mature innocent emanated. It was just too good to be true; at twenty-seven, with a shape like Myra's, it was just unthinkable that she'd never had either a good stiff cock in that furry cleft of hers or at least another girl's soft quim rubbing her back and forth to a good hot come.
"Now then, Myra, suppose you climb up on that table and get on all fours. Bend your head way down and spread your knees as far apart as you can. This is what they call the intimate part of the examination," she directed.
The leather-padded table was broad enough to permit this all-fours posture, and indeed Dr. Penelope Fielding had originally ordered an extra-wide unit just so as to be able to have the absolutely breathtaking and salacious display of the many tempting pussies and bottom holes of her female charges when it came time to examine them. To a lesser degree, the dangling balls and the stiffening cocks of the youths who, usually very embarrassed to be naked in front of a handsome young woman, afforded her erotic enjoyment, if only because for once these males were compelled to demean themselves and be inferior with her in command. It was always amusing to watch a new boy, for instance, try desperately not to get a hard-on while he was in this crouching pose on the table and especially when she was fingering his bumhole to test for piles. The face of such a novice, discovering that anal penetration stirred him to tremendous erection, always diverted Dr. Penelope Fielding, and it was in a way her revenge against the man whom she had at one time thought might be the answer to her pussy's urgent needs.
Myra Castlebar was no exception to the rule of embarrassment. Awkwardly, she got onto the table, on her knees and elbows and slowly lowered her face down to the cool surface. "Come on now, honey, you can do better than that," Dr. Penelope Fielding playfully encouraged, applying a light slap on one of those ivory bottom globes which made Myra gasp and squirm uneasily about. "I want them as far apart as you can get them, and that's an order. After all, we can't have a new instructress teaching these delicate, well-bred girls if she happens to have any female disorders, so I've got to check on you right now. That's a little better-but you can do still better than that! Come on, be a good girl, pretend you're getting ready to take on your boyfriend!"
But this suggestion had the opposite effect; with a shocked gasp, "Ohh no!" Myra Castlebar promptly clamped her legs together and looked back, her face scarlet. "I don't have a boyfriend, and I ... and I certainly wouldn't ever do this..." she stammered, her voice trailing off as she recognized the enormity of what she had just said.
But the Lesbian doctor was more and more delighted with each novel betrayal of the novitiate's total innocence. Yes, it was too good to be true, but it was true just the same. How could a young woman attain the ripe old age of twenty-seven without ever having been fucked or done a little girl fucking just to work off the itch in her pussy?
"I'm going to be very angry with you, and you're behaving like a naughty little girl. In this school, naughty little girls get spanked-and by the way, Myra, after your first week or two as a teacher, you're going to be expected to correct your naughty pupils just that way," she now advised the more and more scandalized brunette. "Come on, the sooner you spread your legs apart, the sooner I can finish the examination and you can get dressed again."
This formula worked, although it was quite obvious, judging from her frantic backward glances over her shoulder, that Myra Castlebar was mortified at the thought of exposing the most intimate nooks and crannies of her creamy, voluptuous and almost naked body.
With a matter-of-fact air, the Lesbian now applied her gloved right forefinger between the pouting pink lips of Myra Castlebar's exquisite, gaping cunthole. Myra closed her eyes, and gasped, stiffening, but the finger continued its inroads until Dr. Penelope Fielding almost giggled with excitement: sure enough, this one was definitely cherry! She could feel the membrane resisting the prodding of her fingertip, and that meant this sweet, white-skinned bitch was fair game for anyone clever enough at Danielson House to teach her the whys and wherefores of fucking. For herself, Dr. Penelope Fielding determined to be the first, even ahead of Madame Helga.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it? Now then, dear, reach back, open up your cheeks as wide as you can for just a second. You know. I'll try to be gentle, and I'll put some Vaseline on my finger," she cooed.
Once again a flurried gasp announced that this order had drawn the young instructress towards a new emotional crisis. Twice her slim hands tremblingly moved back towards the jouncy, jutting rounds of her tensing naked ass, and twice halted. Once again Dr. Penelope applied a smart little slap, and was enchanted to see the vivid pink splotch which instantly sprang up on the flesh.
"Oh come on now, you're acting like a silly child!" she playfully scolded.
At last Myra Castlebar, closing her eyes very tightly and bowing her head down as far as she could, grabbed hold of her buttocks and pulled them widely apart, disclosing the most exquisite little rosette in the world. The lips puckered and cringed at this rude exposure even to the adoring and admiring eyes of a member of her own tender sex, and Dr. Penelope Fielding suppressed a sigh of longing as, having anointed her finger with Vaseline, she now began the anal examination.
Working the tip in very lightly, wiggling it about, then pushing forward a little, she slowly halted it, while Myra Castlebar uttered gasp upon gasp, and the muscles of her thighs and calves surged and jerked convulsively. All her sphincter tightened, giving the Lesbian medico the delicious sensation of having her finger clamped and clutched amorously, as if it were a male prick visiting that secretive crevice of what poetic writers on the topic of fucking are wont to call the temple of Sodom.
"Relax, honey, it's all over and I'm giving you a clean bill of health," she murmured in a voice that had grown more vibrant than ever with her newly aroused lust for this sweet, mature virgin. Deftly, she pulled the gloved forefinger out with a noisy "plop!" which was echoed by a faint, agonized gasp from the squirming patient. Indeed, Myra Castlebar would have given a week's pay to have been able to vanish into thin air, so mortified was she at this unexpected invasion of her virgin secrets.
"You can get down and put your clothes back on, honey." Dr. Penelope Fielding languidly moved over to her desk, sat down and began to enter some notes on the pad. It was just as well for Myra Castlebar's peace of mind that she didn't see what the medico was writing: What an absolute darling little bitch Castlebar is! She has the darlingest cunny I've ever examined, and that little lovebutton of hers is so shy and sweet, I wonder if she's even played with it with her finger. I'll admit there are times I wish I were a man, and maybe that's penis envy, but I know one thing-if I were, I wouldn't let this sweet bitch out of here until I'd hardcocked both those sweet holes of hers and stretched them just a little. I just can't let Madame Helga break her in first, I have to be the one.
After having punished and then consoled pert Sally Eggars, the directress of this unusual educational institution sent the completely submissive girl down to the refectory to bring back her supper, and then admonished Sally to have her own supper and go right back to her room and straight to bed.
Her passions momentarily appeased, the honey-haired Amazon quickly finished her frugal supper of salad and unbuttered toast and tea, and then, still naked in only her black kid gloves and matching spike-heeled boots, touched a camouflaged button in the panel of the wall to the left of her bed. Immediately, a section of the wall swung back, giving entry into a thickly carpeted narrow room which contained only a curious control board and a thirty-two-inch television set, as well as a chaise lounge and a thickly padded low foot-stool. Helga Danielson seated herself at the control board, reached over to turn on the television set, and then flicked one of the many switches before her. Immediately on the screen there came a full view of the refectory, and the dominatress smiled to herself to see the brown-haired teenager hastily eating, glancing nervously around as she did so. There was no doubt the lesson Sally had had this evening would long remain with her.
Then her gloved fingers moved to still another switch and turned this on, and still another picture came upon the huge screen. It was that of the examining room of Dr. Penelope Fielding, and it was just at the moment when Myra Castlebar was assuming the indecent and highly suggestive pose of all fours with head bowed and her bottom and pussy thrusting out to the explorations of the Lesbian medico.
Helga Danielson's large hazel eyes narrowed, and slyly she slipped her left hand down her smooth belly and thence to the golden-thatched mound of her cunt. Leaning forward on the edge of the comfortable chair in front of the control board, she drank in the scene before her, and flicked on still another switch so that the audio might gratify her as well as the visual already did. She laughed softly at Myra's ingenuous protests, and her forefinger began very delicately to rim the soft twitching pink lips of her cunt, for once again she had begun to feel randy just observing the gorgeous nakedness of her newest instructress.
She followed the examination to its very end, and when at last Myra Castlebar left the office, she turned off the set and moved over to the chaise lounge and settled herself, one boot heel on the floor, the other slowly rubbing back and forth against the thick upholstery of the chaise lounge. Once again her forefinger resumed the tickling of her cunt, as she closed her eyes and imagined Myra Castlebar in her luxurious bedroom, a helpless captive who could be taught the meaning of passion.
Then a frown came over her haughty beautiful face, remembering what Myra's destiny was to be at Danielson House. It was a pity that she hadn't found Myra herself, because then she could dictate her own terms. As it was, someone very important to the school was interested in Myra, had recommended her, and would be the one to enjoy that creamy, ripe and yet ever so lithe and vivacious body.
With a sigh, Helga Danielson reached out to the foot-stool beside her, opened a silver cigarette box and took out a long Russian cigarette. Lighting it with a gold lighter, she glanced at this costly device and smiled reminiscently. Engraved on it was the initials "D.R. to H.D." Dear, thoughtful, and oh so very virile David Ruthledge. Just looking at this farewell token from him recalled to her the eight years they had been together.
Born in Stockholm not quite forty-five years ago, Helga Danielson had come from a middle-class family, married a stalwart blonde officer in the border patrol at the age of twenty and enjoyed ten years of relatively happy domestic union. Einar had really known how to fuck a woman, and that was why the marriage had lasted as long as it had, for he had had a bad habit of drinking too much aquavit and glog and then trying to slap her around before he fucked her-something she wouldn't stand for from any man. Yet their reconciliations had been so passionate that she had forgiven him on countless occasions.
Einar had gotten himself killed in an avalanche just at the time when Helga was about to ask him for a divorce, because she had fallen in love with a sensitive young poet only twenty-four years old, a young Frenchman who was visiting Stockholm on a world tour, thanks to the vast wealth of his parents.
The honey-haired Amazon felt almost like a young girl again when she went off with Pierre Vernay on that tour, seeing all of Europe and enjoying fucking in the finest hotels of cities like Budapest, Berlin, Paris, Rome and Athens. Pierre wanted to marry her, but Helga much preferred the spice of an affair. What drew her most to Pierre was his devout way of gamming her, for he had a pointed little beard which he delighted in rubbing against her twitching cunt and especially her clit, driving her to frenzied rapture.
After a year, they parted because Pierre was called back to Paris by his parents who wanted him to marry and have an heir. Helga then set up a beauty parlor and massage shop near the North Bank in Paris, and spent several years there, enjoying switch-hitting affairs with some of her beautiful female clients as well as a number of exciting and virile males.
Her meeting with David Ruthledge came about quite by chance when she was seated next to his table at a fashionable restaurant and the waiter clumsily tipped over his glass of wine, staining her dress. David Ruthledge profusely apologized, wound up by inviting her to share dinner with him, and insisted in buying her a new dress. She discovered that he was a bachelor, just turned forty, and already the head of a fabulously prosperous New Jersey manufacturing company in the business of instrumentation as well as top-security aviation communications systems.
Of all the lovers she had ever known, David Ruthledge was the best, the most imaginative and the most able to hold back his orgasm till he had thoroughly drawn her to at least two good hot comes. And so she became his mistress, a liaison which lasted for eight exciting years.
Finally, and on the most amicable of terms, David Rutledge told her that he had decided to marry so he could have a son to carry on his business affairs. Apart from the monogrammed gold lighter, he set up a sizable trust fund for her in a New York City bank and purchased the property and the buildings of this school, which had once been operated by a seminary that had gone bankrupt. Thus it was that Danielson House came into existence, and Helga's wealthy and generous lover told her that from time to time he might visit her to see how the school was getting along. Since she knew his passion for playful spanking and bondage, she saw to it that those pupils who were entered in the institution were subjected to delicious voluptuous chastisements in order to develop their sexual potential and provide her and the instructors and instructresses she very carefully chose to have about her with the utmost sexual delights.
But for the past several years, Murray Bannister had become one of the sponsors of Danielson House, and that was how the destinies of Myra Castlebar, Murray Bannister himself, and Madame Helga had come to be interwoven in a pattern of complex carnality.
Having watched her newest instructress dress and leave Dr. Fielding's office, Helga Danielson once again felt herself in need of sweet relief from the tingling excitement concentrated in her pussy. She decided on Bettina Moulton, a tall, coppery-haired girl of seventeen, with an exquisitely wistful face and soft, hesitant voice. Bettina had been in the school two years, her dissolute uncle having left her there after her parents had divorced and then left the country, each to remarry. A bank executive was Bettina's guardian and legal administrator, and there was money enough to keep the girl in school for several more years and, after that, to give her another few years of economic freedom. Battina was not only one of the most expert gamahuchers in the entire school, she was also a decided masochist.
Picking up the intercom phone, she dialed the number of Bettina's room, which the girl occupied with a plump, good-natured, brown-haired girl of the same age. Bettina answered, and gasped with pleasure when she recognized the voice of her directress. And a few moments later, the complaisant brunette lay naked over the directress' lap for a stinging little spanking from Madame Helga's gloved hand; then, by the way of thanks for that voluptuous chastisement, she promptly and without being bidden squirmed off Madame Helga's lap, knelt down, put her head between the dominatress' thighs and began to use lips and tongue till at last her beautiful executioner was completely drained of love cream.
On the very same Friday evening which had marked Myra Castlebar's arrival at Danielson House, her most recent employer and his delectable and precocious niece were discussing her in a way that would have made her dainty ears burn. And it was probably just as well for her peace of mind that she was not present to see how Murray Bannister and Carol were making out without her-for that was exactly what they were doing.
Carol had insisted on making supper for her uncle, and, greatly amused and indulgent towards her least caprice, he had lolled back in his kitchen chair, his steely blue eyes riveted on her exceptional figure as she moved gracefully and quickly back and forth between the refrigerator, the kitchen counter and the stove. She wore her favorite tight blue woolen sweater and a pair of skin-tight jeans and loafers. The jeans shaped out the saucily rounded, upstanding cheeks of her bottom to the point of indecency, plainly outlining the widening groove which began at the lower summits and broadened lasciviously at the base. When she stooped to retrieve a dropped spoon, he could feel his prick hardening savagely, because the contouring of her behind facilitated not only dog-fashion fucking but also browning, two of his favorite fornicatory sports. Indeed, his last mistress, a pretty, freckled-faced waitress, had finally broken off with him because she didn't like some of his flights of imagine, which involved spanking her plump, pale, white-skinned bottom to a fiery red and then rudely gripping the quivering, reddened cheeks and prying them apart so he could insert his turgid prick and slowly and vigorously bugger her. Even the compensatory adjunct of frigging her dainty clit with a finger while he enjoyed the tight confines of her rectal chasm did not quite make up for the immodesty she felt and the infallible discomfort.
Murray Bannister had been furious with Myra Castlebar for breaking in on him that particular evening. He was quite certain that if such an interruption had not taken place, Carol would have put up very little protest to his sharing her bed that warm night. Indeed, after Myra's indignant return to her room, Carol had giggled and asked her uncle, "What's with her, Uncle Murray? Why is she so mad just because you want to cuddle me?"
Tonight, he vowed to himself, he was going to give her the answer and a good deal more into the bargain. If he had restrained himself the night of Myra's stormy departure, it had been only because he wanted to be completely alone with Carol to see whether her apparent acquiescence could be tested in the actual crucible of bare skin-to-bare-skin fucking. That was why this Saturday evening was momentous for him, and already he could feel every sinew and nerve in his body tensing with lustful anticipation.
"It won't be long now, Unkie!" the golden-haired girl blithely called over her shoulder as she began to fill a bowl with salad mixings.
"Now don't go to too much trouble, honey. It's a warm night and I'm not looking for a gourmet meal," he affectionately chuckled as he lit a cigarette. He had showered and put on a white linen shirt and just a pair of shorts beneath, socks and opened sandals, and he was completely at his ease.
He could feel his body radiating desire and vigor and good health, all of which would be needed for the initiation of a teenaged sexpot like his niece. Every time she bent or stooped, he felt his prick give a twinge of agony, and he was even wondering if he could go through the ritual of eating supper before making a serious pass at her.
A few minutes later, Carol proudly set before him a tureen of vegetable soup (which of course was out of a can), a generous portion of salad and a plate of crackers, as well as a glass of iced tea with half a lemon squeezed into it (this in itself was an excellent sign, because he remembered having told her how he liked his iced tea). "How's that, Unkie dear?" she giggled as she pulled back the chair opposite him and seated herself.
"It's perfect, honey. It was very thoughtful of you."
"Oh, it's nothing. One of these days I'll really learn how to cook, and you'll be proud of me, Uncle Murray. I know I didn't make the soup, but nobody could make better soup even if they spent all day long doing it, don't you think?"
"Quite right," he agreed as he dipped his soup spoon into the tureen and smacked his lips appreciatively.
"I know it must be tough for you to have to spend all summer with your old uncle," he tentatively began after he had started on the salad, "but I'm afraid this summer I can't get away from my business. But I do promise you that we'll go to New York City for Christmas and I'll take you through all the imagine shops and treat you to a really great dinner at one of those swanky restaurants to make up for it."
"That's all right, Unkie," she leaned across the table and made a saucy face at him. "I'm happy just being with you. Gosh, it's like I was grownup, all by myself with the best uncle a girl could ever have. You know something? Even when I was a little girl, I sort of went for you-maybe I oughtn't to tell you, it might go to your head."
It was all Murray Bannister could do to keep from telling her that it was going to his prick, which again had begun to ache and to remind him that he was in dire need of pussy tonight. Instead, he chuckled and replied, "It's sort of mutual, kitten. You're the sweetest niece an uncle could hope for."
"And you're sweet, too, Unkie. Oh say, I meant to ask you, where am I going to go to school this fall?"
He thought a moment before answering. In fact, he had conceived the idea of enrolling her at Danielson House so she could be close to Myra Castlebar and perhaps even help him in his ultimate plan of conquering that haughty, embattled virginal spinster. "I haven't made up my mind yet, honey," he finally declared after a generous swig of iced tea. "Maybe by next week we'll figure out something. The main thing is, you need to make more friends with people your own age and not be cooped up with a lonely old bachelor like me all the time, especially with all the work I have to do at the plant."
"I'd rather be cooped up with you than anybody else I know, Uncle Murray," Carol Bannister breathed, and her big blue eyes were soft and humid as they fixed on him in a kind of rapt expectancy.
"You're in a very flattering mood tonight, honey. Now then, what did you plan for dessert?" For the time being, he parried her rather obvious play for affection. For once he got down to brass tacks with Carol, there wasn't going to be any fooling around. Either she fucked or she didn't, and if she was only trying to tease, then her teasing days were rapidly drawing to a conclusion.
"I suppose some ice cream, Unkie. Do you really want any?" she purred. Archly, she rose from her chair and moved quickly over to him, then plumped herself down on his lap, wound both arms around his neck and pressed her warm satiny cheek against his. "Gee, I'm so glad she isn't here any more, Unkie. She was sort of cramping my style, if you know what I mean."
He put his left arm around her slim waist, and nobly held back the impulse to squeeze one of those big juicy boobs of hers. Unless his eye sight was going bad, he was almost ready to swear that his teenaged niece had forgotten to put on a bra, because the way that sweater snugged over her bombers looked very much as if that was all she had on from waist to neck.
Carol's golden hair had been braided in an extremely thick pigtail which hung down just below her shoulder blades. She had combed the hair back up from her forehead and gathered it at the back of her head, leaving her pert little ears bare and intensifying the heart-shaped ingenuousness of her face. She had an adorable Grecian nose which crinkled up whenever she smiled or made a face. Though her mouth was somewhat small, it was ripe enough to suggest passionate kisses and, still more excitingly, the ability to suck a man's prick absolutely dry.
Then his eyes widened. He couldn't make a mistake about a thing like this. His maddeningly audacious young niece was squirming her juicy bottom over his lap until she discovered the totem pole of his aching prick, almost standing upright and pressing hard against the fly of the white linen slacks. Then she pressed her cheek closer to his and then breathed, "Why, Unkie Murray, you've got a hard-on!"
Murray Bannister turned red as a beet and coughed. It appeared the roles were being reversed; he was the one doing the seducing, but this sweet little bitch-minx was taking the play away from him. And where in all creation could a sweet-faced seventeen-year-old ever learn a word like that?
"Well, you do so!" she insisted with a pouting moue of her moist red lips. And then, without more ado, she slipped a hand down between his legs while she spread her own and grasped the tip of his ramrod with thumb and forefinger through shorts and slacks till there was no mistake that she had a firm grasp on the enraged and turgid spearpoint.
"Carol-for God's sake, what are you doing?
Where did you ever learn anything like that?" he gasped.
"But, Unkie," she artfully protested in a slurred whisper as she kept applying tiny little pinches to his prickhead through the thin material covering it, "I'm not exactly a baby, you know."
"But just the same, you're only seventeen...."
"But I've only been living with you three months, Uncle Murray, and you're forgetting that I went to school where there were boys before I came here," his amazing niece volunteered, letting go of his prick and playfully squirming her resilient behind more and more suggestively over his now furiously rampant cock.
His arm tightened around her waist and this time he boldly put his right hand against her left boob and squeezed it through the sweater. Then his eyes widened: decidedly, there was nothing between that sweater and Carol's bare skin.
"You mean your folks let you go out on dates, honey?" his voice was hoarse, partly because of the thrilling elasticity of the luscious young love globe which his fingers were palpating and partly because his supposedly virginal ward and niece appeared to know a great deal more about fucking than would have normally been believed.
Carol Bannister gave a soft little laugh and snuggled closer, linking his neck with her soft arms and kissing his cheek as she confided in a husky whipser, "Now don't you get mad at me, Unkie, I just couldn't stand it. Sure I had dates, only I didn't tell Mom and Dad. They thought I was too young to go out with fellows, so I had to sneak out after school and tell them I was with a girlfriend. You aren't mad at me for that, are you? I'm awfully sorry I lied to them, but it's too late to do anything about it now, isn't it, Unkie? Only I promise, now that I'm here all alone with you, I won't ever fib to you."
"And that's where you learned that word, hard-on?" he thickly demanded as his right hand lowered to the hem of her sweater, tugged it out of the waistband of her jeans, and then disappeared under it. He shuddered. The warm, slightly moist satiny quality of her naked skin was like a dose of Spanish fly, and he had to grind his teeth to keep from losing all his jism at the thought that this golden-haired piece of tasty young cunt was going to be even easier to make than he had planned. Not only that, the way she kept wriggling that pert tail of hers back and forth over his lap indicated that she really wanted it!
"Uh huh," Carol had the good grace to blush and lower her eyes, which had, he suddenly noticed, extraordinarily long thick lashes. "It was Bruce who taught me that word. He was my best-est fellow at school back home. Mmmmmm, and could he ever love a girl up!"
"You mean you and he..." he couldn't finish as he stared almost dazedly into her wonderfully luminous blue eyes.
"Uh huh. Are you awful mad at me, Unkie?" Now her voice was propitiatory and the sweet pout of her moist red lips increased as she stared anxiously at him. "Of course, I didn't have any way of knowing I was going to come here and live with you, or I would have waited. But anyhow, you don't have to worry ... you know what I mean. Bruce and I ... well, we went all the way. But don't get excited, he used a safe. I wouldn't have let him otherwise."
For once in his sophisticated life, Murray Bannister was left speechless. His mouth gaped as he stared at his teasing, capricious niece, as if he could not comprehend what she had just told him. Then his hand boldly rose upward to cover her naked tit, the fingers spreading out over it and squeezing lovingly as he crushed his mouth on hers.
Carol Bannister whimpered with delight, and hugged him back with all her strength. She parted her lips and let his tongue explore the sweet, warm, nectared cavern of her ardent young mouth.
He could feel his niece's nipple stiffening under the gentle but insistent caresses of his palm, and the ache in his cock grew more and more unbearable. He felt exactly like a starved man led to a Lucullan banquet and yet obliged for the sake of decorum not to fall instantly upon all the viands and glut himself at one fell swoop. He was never one to care for quickies, and he wanted this first fuck with Carol to be memorable for both of them. Nevertheless, the tightened cling of her arms around his neck, the rubbing of her satiny warm cheek against his and the continued squirming of her saucy, firm behind over his lap had combined into a Tantalus which even mortal man made of the sturdiest stuff could not very much longer endure.
"Are you going to fuck me this time, Unkie, I mean really fuck me?" the amazingly precocious teenager whispered in his ear, giving him a convulsive hug with all her strength. "You don't know how much I wished you'd have done it that night she walked in on us, you just don't. Can I tell you something else, Unkie?"
"I'm just about ready for anything, baby. There's a lot to you I never suspected," he truthfully chuckled.
She giggled then, put her lips to his ear and whispered back, "When you left, I was so itchy I played with myself. I mean it, Unkie! I pretended that my finger was your cock and that I was putting it into my little pussy and I loved myself up until I just about fainted, that's how much I wanted you to fuck me that night. But you can do it now, and you're going to, aren't you?"
"Why, you little devil!" his laugh was hoarse and shaky, betraying his astonishment of Carol's entirely unpredictable knowledge of the way of a man with a maid. For a moment he wondered just how far that boyfriend Bruce had really gone and how many times, and also how it was that his brother and the latter's wife never knew what a sexpot they had on their hands. Then he forced himself to take the upper hand: "What you really need is a good sound spanking, young lady! The idea, sneaking off behind your parents' backs and letting some stupid boy who probably didn't even know how to make proper love to you be your first lover."
"Oooooh, are you going to spank me first, then, Uncle Murray? That would be fun!" Carol squealed and gave him a passionate kiss on the mouth, which made his prick very nearly burst out all its pent-up semen.
"I certainly am," he told her. Setting her on her feet, he yanked the sweater up over her head and shoulders, blindfolding her, while his eyes greedily feasted on the marvelously smooth fresh pink satin of her naked skin. Her back was beautifully hollowed, and her slim waist offset the ebullience of her hips which the jeans so starkly outlined without the slightest concealment. Then he grabbed her by the waist and flung her across his lap, clamping his right leg over her calves and curving his left arm around her naked back just above the waistband of the jeans. Carol meanwhile giggling and squealing in mock-terror, tugged at the sweater in order to free herself of it, just as he lifted his right hand and brought it down smartly on the ripest curve of her right bottom cheek.
"Ooh! My goodness, that stings!" she plaintively complained, trying to twist her bottom this way and that to evade such similar castigations.
"It's meant to," he told her as his hand visited the other cheek at its equally tempting summit. The crisp sound of each smack was thoroughly satisfying, and he could feel the resilient flesh flatten and then spring up under his chastising palm.
Carol's squeals this time were absolutely genuine, and by now she had flung the sweater to the floor and was looking back at him rather ruefully, her eyes enormously wide and humid.
"Hey, no fair so hard," she complained and put a hand behind her.
But Murray Bannister was ready for that contingency, and swiftly grabbed her wrists with his left hand as he raised his right and administered a barrage of rapidly stinging spanks all over her tossing, wriggling, jeans-snugged behind. Carol Bannister began to execute the most suggestive gyrations, her hips swinging exuberantly from side to side, up and down as if in the act of fucking. She tried to bring her free hand back over her bottom, but couldn't reach it, while he spanked her with gusto till she began to cry without faking.
When his hand was stinging, he righted her, clamped his thighs against hers so that she faced him, holding both her hands in his and devouring her heaving naked tits with blazing eyes. "That's for sneaking behind their backs," he irrelevantly explained. "And also for not having told me earlier about what a little Lolita you can really be. And now, to answer your original question, yes, Carol, I'm going to fuck you and I'm going to show you how a man who knows what he's doing can do it to give a girl pleasure. When I get through with you I promise you will forget Bruce entirely-and in fact, if I ever hear his name again in this house, you're going to get a far worse spanking, on the bare and with a hairbrush, is that understood?"
"Ohh, oh yes, Unkie!" Carol gasped, squirming uneasily because her bottom was throbbing, though in a rather stimulating way. Her tear-filled eyes stared down at his crotch, where the evidence of his lust for her was ferociously rampant. He intercepted her gaze and stood up, releasing her hands, "Now you can just march to my bedroom, young lady," he directed.
Carol wasted only a moment rubbing her bottom in a more or less cursory way, and then scampered out of the kitchen and down the hall. Removing his linen suit coat and the polo shirt he wore beneath it, he followed her, naked to the waist, pausing just before entering the bedroom to yank down the zipper of his fly and then to unbutton his shorts so his turgid prick could emerge in all its munificence. When Carol saw that, she would understand it was too late to turn back now, and heaven help her juicy bottom if she turned out to be a cock-teaser!
As he entered, he was enchanted to see that she was just in the act of tugging down her jeans, stooping over so her lush round tits dangled like ripe fruits from the vine, her face red and a little tear-stained, but her eyes shining with an unmistakable anticipation. When she straightened, and before she turned round to face him, he saw that the soft pink skin of her behind was a bright crimson, an exciting and arousing hue.
"Ohhhh, Unkie! It's so big ... it's lots bigger than Bruce's ... oh gosh, I didn't mean that, but it is!" she blurted out, then clamped a hand over her mouth and backed fearfully away towards the wall beside the bed.
"Well, this once I'll forgive you, since you meant it as a compliment," he chuckled. "Only, since this is our first time together, I'm going to have to imitate your young lover by wearing something, since I hardly want to get you pregnant. But we'll put you on the pill starting tomorrow. I want to feel my cock in that snug little warm nest of yours without anything between us, just nature," he came towards her, pulled open the drawer of the night table beside the bed, took out a package of Trojans, and fitted one while she watched with huge eyes. She made no effort to cover her pussy or her tits, so Murray Bannister perceived with a gourmet's relish the already profuse dark golden thatch of pussy-hair around the plump mound of her tasty young cunt. Her navel was quite wide and shallow, a future repository for his prick, for he meant to teach her all the infinite ways by which a man's cock could gratify a girl's desire without necessarily venturing into her cunt.
Having applied the rubber, he gave her a playful slap on her reddened bottom and nodded towards the bed. With a giggle, Carol scrambled on all fours along the wide double bed and then rolled over onto her back and held out her arms to him.
Leisurely now, knowing that no further seduction was necessary and that she wasn't a cock-teaser after all, the stocky industrialist removed his linen trousers and shorts, kicked off his sandais, and joined her on the bed. Lying on his side facing her, one arm under her shoulders and his right hand fondling one of her swelling tits, he bent his head to take the nipple of the other boob between his lips and to nuzzle it lightly with the edges of his teeth, while Carol squealed and cupped his face with her soft warm hand. She had begun to wriggle on the bed, not entirely from the warmth of her spanked bottom but from the agitation of her loins which yearned now as ardently as his cock for juncture.
"Lie back and don't wriggle like that while I get you ready, Carol," he whispered hoarsely. When she obeyed, he knelt beside her, his hands roving over her boobs and sides and hips, while he began to kiss her warm, quivering, naked flesh from the waist downwards, lingering over her navel into which he prodded the tip of his tongue until she squealed and arched and moaned in delirious anticipation and excitement.
Then, seizing her knees and pressing them back up against her panting boobs, Murray Bannister began to kiss the tasty, soft pink lips of his niece's cunthole. Carol, her eyes rolling, moaning and squirming, clawed the sheets with her fingers in her mounting excitement. With practiced expertise, her uncle left her dainty clit till the last, making the tour of the soft inviting rosebud of her pussy. Again and again he could feel the lips twitch and poutingly open to express the girl's readiness for fucking. Then and only then did he apply his mouth to the little nodule above her cunt, kissing and sucking till he could feel her clit stiffen and throb with unmistakable response. Now her moans and gasps and sobs were almost inarticulate, and his fingers had to dig into her kneehollows to keep her in position so she could be properly offered to his lingual caresses.
Carol's head began to move back and forth on the rumpled pillow. Ohh Gawd ... ohhh ... ahhhh! Unkie, oh Gawd, fuck me now, I can't stand it any more, oh please, please, put your big thing into me and fuck me hard, I have to be fucked, you're just killing me doing that! Oohhhh, you're driving me crazy, Uncle Murray, please, please!" she moaned.
He straightened, spread her legs a little more, and thus maintaining her spread open at the fork, aimed his condom-sheathed prick at the twitching, gaping crevice of her vulva. Deliberately, he touched the rims of the soft palpitating lips several times, pretending that he was going to drive in each time, and was enchanted by the way her still reddened bottom contracted and jerked and yawned, exposing the shadowy groove and the dainty rosette of her ass-hole in her frantic contortions.
Carol Bannister was in a seventh heaven of pre-coital rapture. Words poured from her trembling lips, hardly intelligible, moans and sobs and gasps and frantic entreaties, while her toes clawed the air just as her fingers scrambled at the sheets. And then, shuddering, Murray Bannister forced the tip of his prick between the lips of her cunt and inexorably foraged forward till he felt himself up to the hilt in her.
With a wild scream of ecstasy, Carol Bannister flung her legs over and around him as he sank down on her, and her arms rapidly enclosed him, her fingernails punishing his shoulders and back as their lips met in a savage, clashing kiss. Then he began to fuck with long deep thrusts, pausing a long moment after each to savor the convulsive contractions of her cuntwalls which threatened to emasculate him in their very frenzy.
It took every ounce of his self-control to keep from exploding before he had brought her to the pitch, but when they found their simultaneous crisis upon them, he cast all his reserves to the four winds of the earth and dug back and forth inside of her with pitiless fury. Carol retaliated with her teeth and fingernails, until a wild scream of clamorous bliss burst from her at the moment of achievement.
After what seemed like an eternity of aftermath, he raised his face to kiss his niece's panting, soft wet mouth, and heard her whisper huskily, "Ohh, Gawd, Unkie, that was just terrific! I'll bet that's what that huffy old Miss Castlebar needs, and what I wouldn't give to see you do it to her!"
Murray Bannister smiled to himself. His niece was even more inventive than he had imagined. It was going to be very simple to convert her not only into a passionate and imaginative mistress but also as an accomplice in the greater design of ensnaring the virtuous tutoress who regarded him as a moral pariah. For what he wanted even more than Carol was to hear Myra Castlebar cast aside all of her prudish reserve and virginal decorum and claw and pant and scratch and finally shriek when the tides of lust first began to swirl inside her sacrosanct maiden cunthole.