Chapter 8
The law offices of Dunham & Mayberry were impressive.
More than a year had passed since Roger had last visited his father there and he had forgotten just how imposing the place was. He sat there in the waiting room this Friday afternoon staring at the leather-bound legal volumes in the bookcases and occasionally peeked at the receptionist's lovely knees. She was really beautiful--raven-black hair, enormous blue eyes, breasts not too small or too large, the kind of face that appears on covers of fashion magazines. Her voice was a velvet-whisper, too, and she had smiled warmly at him and revealed perfect, white teeth. Roger wondered if his father was screwing her very often.
"This is the first time I've had the pleasure of meeting you, Roger," she said. Her name was Vera. "You must not get to San Francisco very often."
Roger stopped staring at Vera's knees. "No, we live in Lanning," Roger said. "I haven't been here in over a year. The last time I visited my father there was another receptionist. I think her name was Wilma or Thelma-something like that. She was a blonde."
"Oh, yes," Vera said. "You mean Irma."
"Yes, that's right. Irma." Roger settled deeper into the leather-cushioned chair and stared around the room at the books, the abstract paintings on the walls, concentrated on everything but Vera's lovely, dimpled knees. II Dad isn't screwing Vera, he thought, he's crazy. Just the sound of her voice sent a kind of electric shock through Roger's testicles.
"Well, your father shouldn't be too much longer," Vera said. "He's still with a client but they'll have to break for lunch soon. You must be very proud to have such a famous lawyer for a father."
Roger nodded. Actually, he seldom gave his father much thought any more. When he had been younger he had worshiped his father. They had gone boating, flying, skiing, everywhere together. He had loved his father very much and whenever people said what a genius Lester Dunham was in the courtroom Roger had swelled with pride and told them he was going to be a lawyer someday, too. Roger even remembered when he did not know what a courtroom was. He had imagined it as something like a large arena though-a place where his father went each day, a gladiator wearing a dark suit and white shirt and tie, to slay evil opponents who stood taller than Goliath or Samson or King Kong.
And he always emerged victorious because he always came home every night. And then the day came when he no longer came home every night because of a thing called divorce. So Roger just stopped thinking about him so much. And after a while Roger stopped thinking about his father at all because it seemed much easier not remembering his father and the way he had once loved him more than anything. So now he didn't think about him anymore.
"Yes, I am very proud of Dad," he said mechanically.
"How did you get here?" Vera asked. "Did somebody drive you in to town?"
"No, I took the bus," he said. "I just didn't feel like going to school today so I decided to take the bus to town and visit Dad."
"You certainly resemble him," Vera said. "Same chin, eyes, forehead. You even smile like him." She smiled.
"Thank you," Roger said, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. He was pretty sure that his father was screwing Vera now. In fact, he was certain of it.
The door behind Vera opened just then and Lester Dunham and an elderly white-haired man entered the reception room. Roger stood up and his father introduced him to his client, a Mr. Lippincott. They shook hands and Lippincott left.
"Sorry I'm late, Roger," Lester Dunham said. "Couldn't be avoided." He glanced at his watch. 'We'll go and have lunch right away. Any messages, Vera?"
"No, Les-uh-Mr. Dunham, nothing at all."
"Good. See you in about an hour. We're having lunch at The Chart Room if anything important comes up."
"Yes, sir," Vera said, all business and efficiency once again.
His father's scowl of disapproval at Vera for addressing him by his first name in his son's presence had not gone unnoticed by Roger. Lester Dunham slapped his son on the back. "Well, son, you're not exactly dressed for lunch at The Chart Room but fortunately I have a little influence there. Angelo can find us a quiet back booth, I'm sure. Hungry?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Let's go and find out what's on your mind. I've only got about an hour and then I have important business in Oakland to take care of."
The Chart Room was less than two blocks away. Roger and his father walked briskly through the lunch hour foot traffic. Roger still wasn't sure quite how he intended to present what was on his mind to his father, but he guessed he would manage somehow. On the telephone he had said only that he wanted to talk to him today and his father had agreed.
They reached The Chart Room and pushed through the very high double doorway. People waited to be seated but Lester Dunham went directly to the maitre d' and they were immediately seated in a quiet back booth, just as Roger's father had said. The waiter came and asked Dunham if he would care for a cocktail and Dunham said that he would have a martini, very dry. Roger ordered a cola. Roger stared at his father's handsome face which wore a continuous frown and noticed that his sideburns were getting very gray. Vera was right, he thought. He did resemble his father. He studied his father between examining the menu and wondered how this man of ordinary flesh and blood, his father, could be such a success. He wondered if he, too, might inherit this inclination toward success. Was it possible to inherit such a thing? He didn't know and, really, he didn't much care.
"What will it be, Roger?" Lester Dunham asked. "The veal dishes are all excellent. Maybe you'd rather have a steak though."
The waiter brought their drinks and set them on the table.
"I think I'll just have a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake," Roger said. "Do they serve hamburgers here?"
"Oh, I suppose so. Are you sure that's all you want?"
"Yes."
His father turned and glanced about and instantly the waiter arrived. "Yes, Mr. Dunham."
"I'll have the crab salad," he said, "and my son will have the ground sirloin sandwich au gratin and-and a chocolate milkshake." He smiled. "I guess you can manage a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake, can't you?"
The waiter grinned. "Certainly, Mr. Dunham. Anything's possible."
"Good."
The waiter back-stepped away, smiling obsequiously, and Lester Dunham sipped his martini. He puckered his thin lips and set the glass down. "Well, what's on your mind, son?" he asked. "I hope you haven't gotten any of your girl friends in trouble. Anything serious?"
"No, nothing like that," Roger said. "It's about Mother."
"How is she?"
"She's fine, but...."
"Good, I'm glad to hear that."
His father took another sip of his martini and Roger realized suddenly that what he had come to say was ridiculous. Maybe he just wanted to visit his father, he thought. Was that possible? Well, now that he was here he decided to say what he had come to say anyway. "Well, in a way she's not so fine," Roger said, trying to make something important out of this visit now that he was trapped.
"What's wrong with her?"
Roger frowned and raised his thick eyebrows that almost met above his nose like his father's. "Dad, have you ever considered coming back home? I mean-have you ever thought about getting married to Mother again?"
Lester Dunham choked a little and set his drink down. "Roger, did you come here to try and bring about a reconciliation between your mother and myself?"
"Not exactly. It's just that she seems to get lonely at times. I thought if you had any feelings about her that the two of you-well, I thought maybe you could get together again. like that."
Lester Dunham took his gold cigarette case from his pocket, removed a cigarette and lit it. Squinting, he stared at his son and, finally, shook his head as though he had not heard his son correctly. A faint grin creased the corners of his wide mouth briefly and then he was his old frowning self again.
"Roger, you are fifteen now. I realize that fifteen is not the age when boys take on great wisdom. Neither, however, is it an age when lunacy strikes. You're feeling all right, aren't you? Everything's going well in school, isn't it?"
"Yes. Sure."
He nodded. "Good. I thought so or else your mother would have contacted me. This idea of re-uniting your parents wasn't her idea?"
"No."
"I thought not." He exhaled cigarette smoke and watched it curl up toward the ceiling. "And so you decided suddenly that your mother was lonely and that the solution would be for me to marry her again. Just how lonely does she seem? Does she talk to herself or anything? Does she cry a great deal? I mean, do you fear for her mental health in any way?"
"No, not really."
"Hmmm. You know that I do not dislike your mother, Roger. As a matter-of-fact, you could even say we're friends. I provide for both of you financially and I love you because you're my son. I always will love you, Roger. I have an airtight will and you're my principle heir. Also, if you choose and if my work allows I will have lunch with you any time you say. I want you to bring any problems you might ever have to me. You believe me, don't you?"
"Yes, Father," Roger said.
Lester Dunham started to speak, paused and then peered intently at his son. "You're sure everything's all right with you emotionally? Sometimes people get all mixed up-temporarily, of course-and they go and see trained people who can help them. It can happen to anybody, Roger. It could even happen to me. Are you okay?"
"Dad, I'm not emotionally disturbed and I don't need a psychiatrist or anything if that's what you mean. I'm sane. Honest."
Lester Dunham breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God. For a minute I wasn't quite sure. Well, now that we've established that I can speak freely. Did you actually come here to discuss your mother remarrying me and nothing else? If that's the case, then I think maybe you are insane. You're old enough to understand that your mother and I are divorced. Ideally, for your sake, we'd still be married. But we're not. We don't love each other any longer. We prefer being apart. You're bright and normal and you have to accept that. Now tell me the truth. Why did you really want to have lunch with me?"
The waiter arrived with their food and both of them started eating.
Roger decided to drop the whole thing. He decided that perhaps the business of sleeping with his mother, falling in love with her and then having her reject him had affected his brain in some way or other. He forgave himself, though. How many boys screwed their mothers? Yes, he had been entitled to a little craziness, but now it was over and he could return to normality again.
"Why did I really want to have lunch with you?" he repeated. "Well, Dad, to tell the truth I just didn't feel like going to school today. I thought I'd just mosey on into San Francisco and have a chat. How's that for a reason?"
"It's a hell of a lot better than the reason you gave me to begin with. You really shook me up. Jesus H.Christ!"
Lester Dunham reached across the table and squeezed his son's shoulder and they both laughed. Roger told him all about school and answered his father's questions about every detail of his life-every detail except that he'd been sleeping with his mother. He didn't think his father would understand that somehow, so he left that out.
When they had finished lunch Roger was pleased that his father suggested they have lunch once a week. "Let's make it Saturdays." he said. "If for some reason either of us can't make it, we'll telephone and cancel, okay?"
"Sure, Dad," Roger said. "Great. Except I won't get a chance to feast my eyes on that receptionist, Vera," he said.
His father picked up the check. "Why do you think I want us to have lunch on Saturdays," he said. "I don't want any competition." He winked. "She is sort of a good-looking girl, isn't she?"
"You can say that again."
Outside, Lester Dunham walked at a near run, as usual. They took the elevator to the fourth floor, went down the hall and entered the office. "Any messages?" Lester Dunham asked.
"Just Mr. Mayberry," Vera said, tugging at her bra strap. "He's going to play another eighteen holes and he said not to worry about Salinger versus Copperfield. Mr. Copperfield is willing to settle."
Roger saw that his father was delighted. "Wonderful," he said. "See, son? If you ever become a lawyer, be sure and get a law partner who plays golf. Mayberry just made us a bundle with a client on the golf course."
"I'll remember that," Roger said.
"Well, I got to run now. See you later." He laughed. "Oh, Vera, my son has developed very good taste. He finds you attractive. 'Bye."
When his father had gone, Roger turned to leave himself and maybe even catch up with his father at the elevator, but Vera said, "That was very nice of you to say something nice of me to your father."
Roger ran his eyes slowly from Vera's breasts down to her dimpled knees which unfortunately were partly obscured by her desk. "How do you know it was nice?" he said.
Vera blinked her long lashes. "Yes, you are like your father, aren't you."
The conversation with his father had stimulated him. Somehow restablishing their friendship had put him in a devilish mood. He suddenly felt very masculine and very adult. "How do you know I'm just like my father?" he asked. "Maybe in some ways I'm different."
"That's true," Vera said. "But the more you say the more I'm sure you're like him. You even sound like a lawyer."
"What I say isn't everything though," Roger went on, pursuing the game. "It's what people do that counts. Tell me, do you and my father do things or do you just talk?"
"What did he tell you at lunch?" Vera asked coyly but definitely curious.
"How badly do you want to know?"
"Seriously, did he tell you anything about us?"
"He didn't have to. You called him Les the first time you talked to him in front of me. After that you called him sir, right?"
Vera hit her forehead with her palm. "God, you notice everything! How old did you say you were?"
"I didn't say, but I'm fifteen. Do you think that's old enough."
"For what?"
"For what you know I'm talking about."
Again, she blinked her eyelashes. "Fifteen is sort of young," she said. "Especially for a girl who works for the fifteen-year-old's father."
"Not if the fifteen-year-old doesn't tell."
"Fifteen-year-old's are discreet? Good at keeping secrets?"
"They have to be. How else could they peek at receptionist's dimpled knees? And what women would make love to them if they weren't trustworthy? "
It was the first time Roger had said right out what was on his mind. Vera's eyes lowered unconsciously to his waist and just below his waist. "God, you are so much like your father you scare me. I mean it. Tell me the truth. Did he really say anything about me?"
"I'll tell you if you're nice to me." Roger went around behind her and began rubbing her neck gently. He was amazed at his own courage.
He rubbed Vera's neck and shoulders for a moment and she leaned forward, enjoying the massage. "Is it a deal?" he asked.
"I-I don't know," she said, obviously aroused. "The office isn't exactly the place for..." She broke off suddenly. "What am I saying? You're only fifteen. Maybe you-you better just leave, Roger. You seem very nice but I-I don't think this is-well, I-I'm not sure this is proper."
Roger decided to retreat for just a moment. "Say," he said, "I haven't looked around Dad's office for a long time. Would you show me around, Vera? Take me for a little tour?"
"Sure," she said. "That's permissible I guess. Follow me."
She stood up and led him through one of the imagine doors to a large room. It, too, was lined with shelves filled with legal books and in the center, toward the rear of the room, was an enormous desk surrounded by leather chairs. Against one wall was a giant couch and a coffee table. Roger eyed the couch thoroughly, looking for some sign that it was collapsible. He went over, bent down and ran his hand along the crack that ran the length of the thing, pushing as he felt. Finally, toward the very end, there was the sound of a spring releasing and the inner part of the couch slipped forward about a foot. Turning, he said, "Somehow I knew Dad must have something to lie down on in his office with a secretary as pretty as you. You see, fifteen-year-olds are sometimes capable of using logic."
Vera sighed, defeated and smiling at the same time. She opened her lovely mouth to speak but Roger raised his hand and cut her off. "Don't tell me," he said. "Let me guess. You're going to come to the defense of your boss and explain that sometimes Mr. Dunham works very hard and feels the need to lie down and rest, right?"
"Right," she said, her eyes gleaming.
"May I make several other observations?" Roger asked.
"Go ahead, Mr. Lawyer. You seem to be in the courtroom, so go ahead. The defense rests its case."
"Why doesn't the defense rest her body on the couch?" Roger pulled out the inner part of the sofa so that it resembled a bed-nice and big and comfortable. Vera wagged her hips as she crossed the room and sat down. "What observations did you have in mind, sir?" she asked.
"First, I notice that there's a nice bolt on the door which means that nobody can enter unless people inside the room want them to, right?"
"That is correct."
Roger went over and slid the bolt shut. "Second, my father will be gone for quite a while on business and his partner, Mr. Mayberry, is at the golf course with another client."
"True, but you forgot about the telephone, and what if somebody just walks in?
"You do two things. You lock the outer door and then people will just have to come back later. As far as the telephone is concerned, there is an Answering Service. When the phone rings more than six times they answer and take messages. I've called after hours and got them myself."
Roger returned to the couch, sat down and put his arm around Vera's waist. "I think you're maybe the prettiest girl I ever saw," he said. "I'm not trying to be a wise-ass or anything." The scent of her cologne was driving him crazy. He swallowed hard, amazed that his courage had enabled him to proceed this far. He wouldn't have been surprised at all if she had told him to get the hell out. Instead, she stared down at his crotch and saw that his erection stood pushing hard against his pants.
"May I make a few observations now?" she asked.
Here it comes, Roger thought. She's going to throw me out. "Go ahead," he said, his heart beating wildly.
"First, you are no ordinary fifteen-year-old." She stared at his sizable hard on. "And in one respect you are like your father, believe me. Second, you are wrong about the outer door. We don't have to lock it. Nobody is expected and people just don't casually drop in the office of Lester Dunham. It takes an invitation practically. Third, your father would kill us both if he knew what we're about to do." She turned her back to him. "Unzip me, would you?"
Roger nearly fell off the collapsible couch. He had heard that being aggressive often worked with girls but he had never had the courage to test the idea. Here was a gorgeous woman-his father's mistress-inviting him to unzip her blouse and make love to her! He sat frozen, unable to move, terrified. She glanced over her shoulder to see what he was waiting for, saw the problem and turned facing him. She put her hand on his upper leg and brushed her cheek against his.
"Oh, has my big man suddenly lost his courage? I must admit I was impressed with your confidence. Now you've really got me curious and there's no turning back. The door is bolted." She kissed his cheek with parted lips and ran her hand on his leg up to his erection and squeezed. "Still want to stay?" she asked.
Roger pressed his lips against her inviting mouth and kissed her hard. Instantly, her tongue played games with his and she encircled her arms about his shoulders. She ceased kissing him and ran her hand through his hair tantalizingly. "Tell you what. I won't even make you tell me what your father said about me. I want you just because you're you, all right?"
Roger turned her around and slowly unzipped the back of her blouse. She helped him slip it off her head and then he fumbled with her bra clasp until it came loose. At the sight of her twin ivory beauties jutting firmly forward and the large coral nipples already erect, Roger lost his head completely. "Oh, God!" he muttered and buried his face between them.
Vera cooed encouragingly and held his head as he squeezed the big tits in his hands and gobbled at the nipples noisily. After a while, Roger let his hand drop to her rounded stomach and then down over her dimpled knees. He lay her back on the large couch and ran his hand up her inner thigh.
"My, you are an eager boy," she said, unbuttoning his fly, slipping her hand searchingly inside and clasping his thick rod hard in her hand.
"Ummra, you're even bigger than your daddy!" she said. "I can't believe it. What a lovely, delicious cock," she murmured. "Take it out so I can see it and-and kiss it. Oh, Roger!"
Roger was so concerned with running his hand up her leg to her cunt that he barely heard her pleas but then, just as his hand lighted on the moist crease of her slit beneath the sheer panties, he became aware that Vera was a most skillful veteran with a prick. She was running her entire palm over the head of his organ so that its drippings bathed every sensitive pore in a steady, almost orgasmic sensation. She was handling his prong the way one handles the stick shift of an automobile.
Roger toyed with her clit, rubbing it gently between his thumb and forefinger for a while, then slowly inserted his middle finger into her gushing honey chasm. He slid his finger steadily in and out, her ass pumping to aid his efforts, as he nursed even harder on her breasts. Vera had his cock really begging for cunt-heat now as she alternately ran her fingers ticklingly up and down the length of the shaft and clamped it hard in a vise-like grip between her palms. She liked to fondle his balls, too, and often got carried away as she kneaded the sensitive gloves.
"It's been so long since I was with a teenager-not since I was a teenager myself-that I forgot how nice and full a boy's scrotum can be," she rasped. "Ummm, I have the most insane desire to put your balls in my mouth, Roger. Your cock and your balls and everything. Do you--you like to-I mean, would you like to kiss my pussy a little?" she inquired invitingly.
Roger withdrew his finger from her cunt and held it up. It glistened from her love juice and lovingly he put it in his mouth and licked his finger clean. That was all the answer Vera needed. She hastily stripped away the rest of her clothes and Roger undressed completely, too. Then, for the second time in his life, he found himself sixty-nining. Vera's body was much firmer than his mother's, he noticed, drawing each of Vera's tasty cunt lips (they were like little filet mignons) deep into his mouth and massaging her rotating ass hard with his hands as he ate.
Roger did not believe it possible for a stranger to enjoy sucking a male's prick so intensely. Vera groaned and mewed and made yum-yum sounds as she gobbled on his engorged member.
Several times, she stopped sucking and just grunted appreciatively at the workings of his own mouth on her vagina while she slowly jacked his prick off and admired his over-sized genitals.
"Oh, such a rock-hard cock," she groaned. "What a beauty, Roger. Your prick is a beautiful, delicious work of art!" Then she dived at the object of her lust once again and stuffed it in her mouth and began eating it whole. Roger didn't know whether to cease dining on Vera's love hole and just enjoy the delightful, unbelievable workings of her mouth on his rod or to try to swallow her pussy whole.
Such conflicting desires warred within him felt on the verge of insanity! Sixty-nining was a miraculous and wonderful thing, but it presented certain problems.
Problem was, he didn't know whether to give or to get. It was hard to concentrate on cunt-eating when your cock was getting sucked! He vaguely sensed that maybe people should do one or the other. At least when fucking both parties had no problem because, like the old saying, one hand washes the other, or in this case, one genital washes the other.
Suddenly Vera must have felt the same way, too, for she stopped cocksucking and asked, "Do you want to fuck now, Roger? Oh, this is driving me out of my mind. What do you want to do? Do you want to come in my mouth ... you can shoot your come in my mouth if you want, Roger ... I don't care ... anything ... Oh Christ! I don't care. I just don't care. Do you want to stick it up my ass? Do you? Oh, God ... anything ... anything! I know! Fuck me dog-style, would you Roger? Would you, please? Turn me over on my stomach and I'll get up on my hands and knees and you can fuck me with your big cock from the rear. You can even stick it in my rear if you want. Anything you want...."
Her idea of fucking appealed to Roger. One thing was certain. He couldn't stand much more of this sucking. It was beautiful and felt better and better all the time, but he had to sink his cock in something more substantial soon or he would become a blithering idiot. He rolled Vera over on her stomach as she had suggested and parted her legs. Her ass was the roundest, firmest, loveliest ass he had ever seen. It had never really occurred to him to fuck a girl up the rear before but the idea seemed a good one as he admired the exquisite swell and curve of Vera's perfect butt. He palmed her ass and panted for a moment, deliberating, uncertain, and then Vera scooted up on all fours and gasped over her shoulder at him.
"Stick me! Stick me!" she cried. "Stick that big, thick pole anyplace you want, sugar boy!"
Roger held his tool like some missile about to be launched as he crawled forward on his knees. Vera's dark hair curled in wet, dark ringlets about her cunt and ass-hole and he wished-really wished-he had two cocks instead of just one for the first of many times in his life. How he yearned to fuck her tight little ass-hole and cunt at the same time! As his pelvis neared her buttocks which she held spread wide apart with both hands, he--he had to make a decision quickly. The absence of heat on his cock was painful after the warmth of her mouth and he had to imbed himself in something soon. He decided then to fuck her pussy for a while first and then, if he had the willpower and didn't get too carried away, he would transfer his prick from cunt to ass-hole.
"Hurry, Roger," Vera begged. "Hurry up and fuck me, please? Oh, please! Give me that cock! I have to have it! Don't torture Vera, please?"
Roger experienced for the first time in his young life the complete knowledge that women were every bit as anxious as men. His mother had taught him plenty, true, but here was this gorgeous beauty-queen of a woman pleading with him to fill her hole with his hot meat. Just a trace of sadism filled him as he slowly fed his ram-rod into this whimpering girl's snatch.
"Ahhhh," she sighed ecstatically as he pierced and felt her vaginal walls clench in satisfaction. He proceeded gently at first, until his cock was about halfway inside her, and then he shoved forward hard and penetrated all the way with one quick squishing stroke right up the center.
Vera reached behind with both hands then and tugged hard on his pumping ass with one hand and fondled his dangling balls with the other.
Her pleas and sighs of delight and satisfaction were something to hear. "Oh, fuck my cunt, you beautiful fucker darling," she cried. It was as though she were speaking in some alien language-a special fuck tongue-as she babbled on incoherently. "Fill me up-all the way up to my tummy ... argmm ... ooowh ... ughh ... cram it ... Oh, yes, cram, cram, jam it, jam it ... ummmm ... urrrr..."
Roger wielded his meat like some mighty weapon, savoring the weird noises that gurgled from her throat, delighting in her grunts of pleasure as he speared her box. Actually, since he did not know Vera very well this was an entirely different fuck than he had ever experienced. He was somewhat detached, uninvolved, and therefore he was able to be a little analytical as he plunged his gristle hunk again and again into this squirming female who had become the object of his pleasure. He thought about the texture of the inside of her pussy, evaluated the density of her lubricant, watched the pink folds of her vaginal lips submerge and then reappear each time his prick thumped the quivering cheeks of her ass. He imagined that his penis was a piston and savored its upstroke and downstroke-intake, compression, downstroke, exhaust ... intake, compression, downstroke, exhaust. Yes, in a way, she was a little like one of the rides at an amusement park and he was enjoying himself immensely because he held a fist full of tickets on the best ride of all-a breathtaking ride to orgasm and soon he would wham-tingle-pop-spurt to come heaven.
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" the amusement park ride was begging. "Oh, Roger, I don't believe it ... I-I keep coming all the time ... over and over and over again ... each time it-it lasts so long ... Oh ... Oh ... there I go again ... Ohhhhhhhhhhh ... Ohhhhhhhhhh ... Roger rrrrrr..."
Roger listened to her scream and almost smiled as the pitch of her voice wavered, first high, then low. To think my cock is doing this to her, he thought. My cock is driving her out of her mind!
And then, just as suddenly as he had become so detached and apart from this wonderful fuck, he was no longer detached but completely involved and lost in the warmth and wonder of this female who had allowed him this most intimate access to her pleasure places. His brain reeled, his body shuddered, his vision blurred. As though in a clawing, misty wet-dream he saw the tiny button of her ass-hole and knew that he wanted to sink his manhood into it. He had never fucked a woman there before but he intended to fuck Vera's ass.
Roger backed far away from Vera, withdrawing his shiny-wet prong with a loud slurp, then pressed its bulbous head eagerly at her ass-hole. Could she take it all? he wondered. He guessed she could. Why else would she have asked him to fuck her there earlier? Slowly, torturously, he began easing his dong into the tight aperture.
"Ohhhhhh," Vera moaned, enraptured with what he was doing. "I-I've only been fucked in my rear once before by-by somebody smaller, but yes, oh yes, fuck my ass-hole, darling. Ouch ... Oh ... Eeee ... easy ... easy ... God, it's so big, but I want it in there ... easy ... yes ... there it's going in, isn't it? Isn't it? Yes, there it's going in now ... Wonderful, but slow, easy ... yes, ummm..."
Gradually, Vera's muscles relaxed and once the big head of his cock had found heat and smooth inner flesh the going became easier. Roger stared at the rim of her little hole stretched almost to the breaking point and marveled at the elasticity of flesh. It seemed impossible but he was three-quarters of the way in. Vera reached back and helped with her hand. The feel of his elephant trunk nearly all the way into her rear excited her and she emitted a self-congratulatory squeal at her own ability to accommodate the giant prober. Perhaps thirty seconds passed, and then, the prick was lodged totally in Vera's grateful rectum.
"Now fuck it, Roger," she commanded hoarsely. "It's all the way in now and I want you to fuck my butt. Oh, do I ever want you to screw my ass-hole!"
It was incredible the way her voice had lowered. Roger thrust evenly and listened to the urging that came from deep down in her throat. Here he was fucking his father's mistress and she was loving it probably even better than when his father fucked her! Here he was fucking beautiful Vera-the dream of a woman who had seemed so unapproachable with the dimpled knees-right in the ass and she was loving every second of it!
"Does it hurt?" he breathed.
"Ohhhh, nooooo," she replied. "It's wonderfulllll ... wonderfulll...."
"How does it feel? Does it really feel that good? Doesn't it hurt even a little?"
"At first, but not-not nowwwww. Ummmmm, tickle my clit with your finger at the same time. Please? Oh, this is going to be the best come ever. I can tell. Oh, Jesus ... Jesus...."
Roger reached around her hip and found her clitoris and began massaging the pleasure nub as he increased the tempo of his fucking.
"Oh, Christ. I never felt anything like this," she groaned. "Not ever ... not ever ... in my life ... Fuck me, you fifteen-year-old genius. Fuck me, you Romeo ... you Casanova. You're a magician ... I-I just don't believe it! This is better than anything...."
Roger wasn't sure he could hold back much longer. He knew he wasn't the magician. She was! The tightness of her, the insatiable cries of pleasure she kept uttering were carrying him to fantastic heights. No woman had ever made him feel more totally a man-not his mother, Sheila, Ginny, anyone! No wonder his father liked fucking her. She was every man's dream come true! He couldn't believe his luck.
"I-I'm getting ready to come," he gasped. "I don't think I can wait. I-I don't, Vera. I really don't."
"Just a moment longer, my young stallion," she said. "I'm almost there. Rub harder on my clit and I'll get there any second."
Roger slowed his pace out of necessity. His scrotum which Vera manipulated every bit as fact as he rubbed her clit was raised high and ready to spew his jism. Ripples of shimmering, pulsating pleasure ran up and down his spine and through his loins, tripped endlessly about his shaft and balls and rectum, even as far away as his toes and fingertips. His entire body was one trembling, anticipating pleasure blob.
Vera told him she was coming now. Her breath-whines began low, then came closer together, louder, louder, louder still until she was screaming the ceiling off with shrieks of hysterical, agonizing grunts of absolute and total completion. Her body bucked bronco-like as the electric current of climax jolted her. She thrashed crazily, begging for the good feeling to cease before she lost her mind.
"God, noooooooo ... I can't stand any-morrrrrrrrrrre," she wailed.
Roger was right with her, his testicles dancing in her clenched hand as they flung forth their contents and scalding blasts of sperm made their way up his shaft and into the dark recesses of Vera's innards.
"I can feel it drenching me!" she panted, her orgasm on the downgrade at last. "I swear I can feel your juice hosing me inside!"
Roger continued firing his love juice, endlessly it seemed, as he clutched her hips hard to steady his own involuntary motion. His shoulders flapped forward, then back, back and forth like a kite in a violent wind as his eyeballs rolled to the back of his head.
Finally, they both fell forward and lay prone and panting, Vera shuddering on her stomach and, Roger, still bone-hard, still impaling her piggy-back on top her. His breath was a rasping, frightening thing, like that of some marathon runner about to expire as he salivated in her ear.
Eventually, they turned to their sides and lay cuddled and cooing gratefully to each other. "Don't you ever touch me again," Vera whispered, grinning. "That was about as close to dying as I care to come. Before you pick out a bride be sure you take her to a doctor and have her thoroughly checked out-blood pressure, heart, everything. Otherwise you might just end up a widower on your wedding night."
"I'll do that," Roger promised. "And you be careful who you let seduce you, too. I may be fifteen but I feel eighty right now!"
They both giggled at this and agreed that it was possible for two people to be too sexually compatible for their own good.
"Absolutely unbelievable," Vera said when she had completely dressed herself at last. She staggered to the wall and braced herself as Roger finished putting on his shoes. He got up then, blinked and made his way to the reception room. Vera kissed him and shook her head. She collapsed into her chair behind the desk. "Do I look all right?" she asked in a nervous tone.
"I guess you'll live," Roger replied. "How about me? Do I pass inspection? "
"Yes, but I think I'm going to sue you. Right. I'm taking you to court and have you locked up. Somehow you've got to .be kept away from women! After a session with you a girl is ruined for any other man for the rest of her life. There's no comparison. I hope you're satisfied, you devil. I hope your fifteen-year-old ego is happy that you managed to seduce your father's girlfriend and now she's telling you how downright good you are! I swear, if I had a trophy I'd give it to you. But it would serve you right if you tripped carrying it and broke your little neck. At least you wouldn't go around spoiling females for other poor, mortal men!"
Roger beamed. "I guess I am flattered. You are the most beautiful girl I ever expect to make love to and I guess I will always be a better lover because of you. I mean that."
"You're sweet," Vera said.
"Did anybody ever tell you that you have lovely dimpled knees?"
"Don't start anything, Roger," Vera said. "I'm warning you. I'm-I'm just not up to it. Go and find yourself a nice young, athletic girl to seduce. I mean that. You make me feel all fluttery inside when you look at me that way and say those things."
Roger leaned over her desk and planted a platonic kiss on her forehead. Then he walked to the door and stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "Oh, I forgot to tell you," he said. "Dad didn't say anything much about you at lunch-only that he thought you were attractive and that he didn't want any competition. That's the truth. He didn't talk about you."
Vera smiled affectionately and raised her lovely eyebrows. "Of course he didn't," she said. "And neither will you because you're both Dunhams-every inch of you. A girl senses these things, Roger. You'll understand more when you're older. That is, if some man doesn't kill you for stealing his girlfriend." Vera blew him a kiss. '"Bye, sweet. I'm glad it happened. Honest."
"Me, too," Roger said. "Dad's lucky. Goodbye."