Chapter 2
Though his evidence was flimsy, Nick Saxby was absolutely right. Norma Peterson did have a secret, and if it ever became known she would be out of her job in no time flat.
To a casual observer, though, Norma did not seem like a woman with something to hide. In fact, the attractive brunette looked much like any other well-dressed career girl that Friday evening as she headed home to her apartment in an old town house on Pine Street in the center of Philadelphia.
Her behavior appeared perfectly normal. A block away from home she purchased food from a small corner store and the evening paper from a nearby newsstand. Wearily, she trudged up the three flights of stairs to her apartment, struggling with the groceries and let out a deep sigh of relief as she entered her comfortable, modernly furnished living room.
Fifteen minutes later she had made herself a pitcher of martinis and was slipping out of her dark blue office dress in the bedroom laying it neatly on her big double bed. Enjoying a cool, soothing sip of her drink, she strolled to the large mirror above her dresser to take a good look at herself, something she was doing more frequently during long weekends at home alone.
After carefully removing her dark-framed glasses, she undid the neat bun of her rich dark brown hair and let it flow down over her shoulders in thick lustrous cascades. The transformation was miraculous. In just a matter of seconds she had changed from a coldly efficient female executive into what could have passed for an alluring sex siren.
Fully conscious of her own metamorphosis, Norma stared at her reflection in the mirror until it gradually began to hypnotize her. Slowly, almost mystically she glided her hands down over her voluptuously flaring hips and began casually caressing the lacy hem of her white slip. Then she gripped the silky material and pulled it up over her head, letting it drop from her fingertips to the floor.
Then her hands glided over the tapering contours of her midriff up to the cups of her daringly brief brassiere.
She could feel her breasts swelling ripely against the silken confines, desperately wanting to burst free. She squeezed them together, exaggerating their fullness, feeling her nipples rise erect at the sensual touch of her own fingertips. Arching her body she slid her hands around in back and undid the tiny snaps, and as the brassiere slipped down off her shoulders, the lushly swelling, pink-tipped mounds of her breasts bursting forth, free at last from the: artificial constraints.
The reflection in the mirror showed a maturely developed young woman of twenty-six normal — in fact, more than normal, from a physical standpoint, and this was what galled her. For as she gazed at herself she was overcome with an intense feeling of self-contempt.
God, what's wrong with me? she asked bitterly. Why can't I behave like a normal woman? Why can't I be satisfied with a normal man? As these questions turned over in her mind, her hands descended to the white silk of her brief bikini panties.
Here is the source of all my troubles, she thought to herself as she hooked her thumbs inside the delicate little waistband. The rippling touch of the silky material against her skin sent unwanted chills of pleasure racing up and down her spine. Her other fingers gently caressed the outer surface, smoothing and molding it to the outline of her provocatively rounded pussy mound. God, she thought, her panties felt so soft, so cool. How she loved to fondle them, even though she knew it was wrong, this strange unnatural fetish that had possessed her since childhood.
Trying not to think about the events of the past which had led to her horrible panty compulsion, the voluptuous young brunette turned away from the mirror, headed to her closet, and slipped into a gauzy white nightgown that extended only to the very tops of her thighs, barely covering the narrow white crotch band of her panties beneath. Quickly, as though to gain much-needed moral support, she downed her martini, poured another, and headed into the living room to read the evening paper.
But even now she could not escape her innermost thoughts, for almost against her will, her fingers flipped to the sports section, which she knew would rekindle her youthful memories.
Her eyes scanned the football news photos of heavy-shouldered men slamming into one another with the force of brute elephants, glanced over the summaries of the professional games, bypassed the scores, and came to rest finally on a tiny two-inch column previewing a local suburban high school game. The headline read "Breyertown J.V.'s meet Cap's Creek on Saturday."
It was an odd thing for a young single woman to do, to dwell on an obscure column in the sports page like this, but Norma Peterson nevertheless noted the time and location of the early freshman game, which was to take place the following morning in Breyertown. And then as she stared at the tiny column of newsprint, the lines began to wave and blur in front of her eyes while her mind tumbled back deep into the past to that terrible autumn day when she was thirteen years old . . .
On that particular day she was standing on the sidelines of a makeshift football field in a public park not far from her home in suburban Whitemarch, Pennsylvania. There were other girls on the sidelines too, but they were cheering and yelling at the young boys on the field who had grouped themselves into two teams to play tackle. Instead of joining in the fun, young Norma was pouting and sulking on the verge of tears, for the boys had just kicked her off the home team.
It had happened when Joe Baxter, a big rough-looking boy from Wyndmoor, a poor neighborhood nearby, decided that touch football was a sissy's game, and if they were going to have any fun at all they should play tackle.
"Come on," he yelled to Freddy Green, the Whitemarsh captain. "Get rid of that girl and let's see who's tough and who ain't."
Freddy, an agile young boy of fourteen at the time, wasn't about to be bullied by Joe Baxter, and he was having second thoughts about playing tackle.
"Are you crazy or somethin'? We can't play tackle without equipment," he protested.
"Pussy!" Joe chided him.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. That girl's the best one on your team," the bigger boy taunted.
"That's what you think."
"Okay, well show me then. Let's play tackle."
Freddy's face was red with anger now. "Okay," he said, and then stormed away to the other side of the scrimmage line to his team huddle.
"We can't chicken out now. We gotta play tackle." he convinced the others and looked up at Norma, who was dressed in a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. "You better go to the sidelines."
The confident expression on the young tomboy's face suddenly dropped. "Oh no, I'm playing too!" she cried.
"No, you're not. You'll get hurt. Didn't you hear what I said, we're gonna play tackle."
"I'm playing too!"
"Hey, come on Norma, you're a girl. You can't do that," one of the other boys complained.
"Yeah come on, we wanna beat these guys."
"Go be a cheer-leader for awhile, will ya?"
The thirteen year old girl could feel the tears welling in her eyes. Almost every weekend she had been playing touch football with the same boys, and she could run and pass better than most of them. Now just because Joe Baxter and his tough guys were challenging them they were willing to discard her. It wasn't fair at all.
"Aw, Norma, don't be a sorehead will ya?" Freddy pleaded.
"You guys playin' or not?" Joe Baxter yelled.
Norma knew when she was defeated, and she turned quickly away from the boys and walked back to the sidelines, not bothering to join the other girls. Instead she watched sourly as the Wyndmoor team ran roughshod over the home team. On the third play, as Freddy Green faded back for a pass, Joe Baxter broke through the line and smashed into him with a bone-crushing thud.
A moment later everyone from Whitemarsh and all the girls on the sidelines were gathered around the injured player whose face was red with pain as he writhed on the ground.
"Oh fuck," he groaned. "I think I broke my elbow." After Freddy, the star quarterback, had been carried off the field, his teammates milled helplessly around, as though their heads had been chopped off. They did this until Norma suddenly stood up and with her hands on her hips began castigating them.
"You're not gonna let those guys win, are you?"
"Yeah, well, what do you suggest?" they grumbled.
"Let's go back on the field and play."
"Yeah, and who's gonna be our quarterback?"
"/ am," Norma announced defiantly.
Surprisingly, the young girl took command of the situation with ease, and she avoided being tackled by giving quick hand-offs and short passes. She could see she had made Joe Baxter good and angry by bringing her team right down to the goal line. One more play and she could score a touchdown.
At that moment the other team called a time out and huddled behind the goal. It was an extra long time out, and she could hear the big rough-looking boys laughing and shouting and clapping their hands together, though she couldn't possibly anticipate what they had in mind for her. She didn't find out until the next play which she realized she would have to run herself in order to get a touchdown, since the ball was practically on the goal line.
Everything whirled by so quickly it became a jumble of confusion. The ball was snapped back from center, she raced furiously around the right end to score the touchdown and suddenly, without warning, all the rules disappeared and the game became something other than football. Even though she had already made the score, Joe Baxter's entire team was charging her from all sides, whooping and yelling, their faces contorted into strange lustful expressions the young girl had never witnessed before in her life.
Joe Baxter was the first one to bring her to the ground. His head dove in between her legs, his hands driving into the backs of her knees and collapsed her like a folding chair. The sweating bodies of the big, tough-looking boys closed in all around her. Eager hands pulled at her sweatshirt and blue jeans.
"Get the quarterback," someone yelled.
"Yeah, get her, get her!" the others chanted in chorus as they closed in even tighter around her.
"Stop, stop! Don't! Please!" She tried to protest as she wiggled and squirmed in a desperate effort to break loose, but her frantic pleas went unheeded. She could feel clammy, excited young hands half-tearing her sweatshirt up over her head as she desperately thrashed and kicked.
Other pairs of hands popped open the snap of her blue jeans, ripped down the zipper, and pulled them off her flailing legs.
Her pleasant tomboy world had suddenly turned into a horrible nightmare.
"We got her now!"
"Come on, let's take the rest of her clothes off."
"Yeah, we'll show this stupid chick."
Tears poured from the helpless teenager's eyes and she began to scream uncontrollably, loud piercing cries that rent the air of the calm, peaceful playing field. Before she knew what was happening her small training brassiere had been torn loose, and she was naked except for her flimsy little white nylon panties.
Struggling mightily to protect her virginal young loins from the ravishment she thought was sure to come, she clamped her hands fiercely around her panty waistband, fighting to keep it from being ripped away by these crude, savagely aroused boys. Her legs kicked and pushed, her arms twisted and pulled, she screamed and screamed until she thought her vocal chords were going to burst, and suddenly the kids around her began to come to their senses.
"Hey, come on, cool it."
"Yeah, let's get outta here."
"Move it before the cops come."
One by one they silently disengaged themselves from the tangled pileup they had formed around the defenseless young girl. As they scurried away she could see the boys from her own team gathered around her, strange looks of excitement and horror mingled on their faces. But then they too began to turn and walk quickly away, breaking out into a fast run, as though they were hurrying away from some beggar with a terrible disease.
The thirteen year old girl was up on her feet now, tears pouring down her cheeks, her face livid with rage. Her young, newly developing body exposed and humiliated, she began screaming every foul curse word she had ever heard in her life.
"Bastards!" she yelled, the cords of her neck standing out in relief as though they were about to burst. "Dirty bastards!"
Silently the young boys scooped up their coats and hurried homeward in separate directions, not once looking back, leaving her to her own fate ... a thirteen year old girl alone and humiliated.
She was standing there practically naked, only her panties left to protect her. Her clothes lay scattered around about. Only moments ago she had been one of the gang wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, just like the boys wore. But in just a few brutal seconds she had been taught that she was a woman. For the first time in her life she had become the object of male lust, and now she was stripped naked except for her frilly little panties, the badge of her femininity, the femininity she swore she was going to use against men for the rest of her life.
A shudder of horror trembled through Norma Peterson's body even now as she recalled the horrible event from her past, and she fixed herself a third martini. God, what a deep scar that incident had left on her!
Ever since that day she had been marked with an unnatural craving for revenge — a craving that expressed itself in a terrible need to expose her panties to young boys and tease them until they could barely stand it. It was the amazed expression on their faces that satisfied her. She reveled in her power to shock and tantalize them without completely giving herself to them. She reveled in her female ability to render them helpless, just as she had felt helpless when attacked by those teenage boys so many years ago.
A funny little smile crossed the bitter brunette's face and she began to tear out the clipping of the high school football game that was to take place tomorrow. She was going to take a little trip tomorrow — just a short trip to a certain high school football field in the suburbs of Philadelphia.
When Nick Saxby awoke at nine on Saturday morning, he felt more than a little ridiculous assuming the role of private detective. He felt downright silly, in fact, packing his camera and telephoto lens in their carrying case and carrying it downstairs to his Pontiac parked in the lot of his suburban apartment building.
He had dressed casually, as though he were just going to do a few errands — a dark turtleneck sweater and double knit slacks, along with a pair of sunglasses which were a bit conspicuous for an autumn day in October, even though it was a clear beautiful day. At least, though, the sunglasses might prevent Norma Peterson from immediately recognizing him if she just happened to sight him from the rearview mirror of her car as he followed her.
As he headed his car toward Philadelphia city center, he began feeling even more absurd. What if he spent the whole day waiting outside her apartment while she, in turn, spent the whole day inside. What if she had already left, and what if he did follow her and found that she didn't do anything abnormal? Hell, he might have to spend weeks on her tail to verify what Flo Jones had told him. And furthermore, what if that sexy little secretary's imagination had just run away with her? Norma Peterson certainly didn't seem the type to expose her panties to young boys, but still Nick had faith in the fallibility of humankind. Everybody had some kind of secret they were hiding, he told himself, and he was personally going to avail himself of Norma Peterson's to put her in her proper place!
An hour later he was threading his car through the tangled traffic of downtown Philadelphia, negotiating it toward the Pine Street address Flo had swiped for him from the personnel file. After he had found it, he was obliged to cruise around the block several times to wait for a parking space to open up, and after that he had to wait an hour more before Norma emerged from her apartment house. When she did, though, it was one hell of a surprise.
In fact, it was so surprising that Nick even whistled under his breath. Was this the same Norma Peterson he knew from the office; hell, no, it couldn't be.
The woman who was coming down the steps of the town-house looked like some kind of movie star. She was wearing an ultra short tweed skirt that revealed enough thigh to practically make him cum in his pants. On top of that she was sporting a white see-through blouse, even though October was not known to be one of the hottest months of the year. Her hair, too, was different. None of this tightly pulled bun business. . . just long glossy brown tresses that flowed luxuriantly down over her shoulders. And the glasses. . . what happened to the black-framed glasses that usually made her look like an accountant? She must have traded them in for a pair of contact lenses or something. He peered forward in his seat to make sure he had zeroed in on the right woman, and sure enough he had. No doubt about it, the white convertible she stepped into was the same one he'd seen in the office parking lot.
Excitedly, the amateur private detective gunned his engine and five minutes later found himself following his business rival through the maze of city center streets, his blue Pontiac trailing discreetly behind the white convertible that zoomed onto the expressway leading northwest out of the city.
Nick was growing more ecstatic by the moment. His dumb idea about playing detective was beginning to pay off. After all, who could expect that Norma Peterson would be jazzed up like a sex siren on a Saturday morning? What Flo had told him was beginning to sound like the truth.
Norma, for her part, was completely oblivious to the late-model car tailing her. She was aware only of the strange feelings of excitement and tension that were beginning to creep up on her. She was so tense, in fact, that the palms of her hands were beginning to sweat against the steering wheel. She could feel a parched roughness in her throat, and even her leg began to tremble as she pressed her high-heeled shoe down on the accelerator. God, she knew what she was going to do was wrong, but she couldn't help herself.
All morning in spite of the warnings her conscience had been flashing to her, she had felt the heady anticipation of encountering young teenage boys on the football field — handsome young boys, naive and innocent.
Soon she had left the choking smog of the city behind as she followed the expressway exit ramp onto the turn-off for Breyertown. It was a clear autumn day, the sun shining brightly above, a light breeze blowing through the red and gold trees - the kind of day that would make anyone feel relaxed — anyone, that is, except Norma Peterson, whose perverted excitement was growing by leaps and bounds.
By noon she had arrived at the Breyertown High athletic fields just in time to witness the crowd of young boys and girls pouring out from the bleachers of the main field. This was ideal, she thought to herself, as she tamed the white convertible to a slow cruising speed. The freshman football game was just over, and the high school varsity team wouldn't be playing for another two hours. There were bound to be some stray boys lingering after the game, perhaps playing touch football by themselves, in one of the adjacent fields.
Behind her, Nick Saxby abruptly eased off his accelerator and followed at a safe distance. Just what in the hell was this broad doing? he wondered to himself. Why would she drive all the way out to this suburban high school football field just in time to miss the football game, unless of course she were looking for something else — perhaps some stray boys, some boys very similar to Flo's little brother and his friend! Nick grinned at the thought of getting a peek at his female co-worker's private sex life. This, in fact, was even more exciting than getting the best of her in the office battle.
Gradually the crowd began to thin out, knots of exuberant boys and girls heading toward their cars in the parking lot. Horns honked, tires squealed as the cars wheeled out over the macadam, and in the middle of this noisy crowd of teeny-boppers was Norma Peterson in her big white convertible just cruising along looking for unsuspecting little boys. If only she knew her every move was being followed, Nick chuckled gleefully ...
By now, Norma had finally sighted her prey. Just as she'd expected, there were two young boys aimlessly tossing a football in a small field on the other side of the main bleachers. The field, which looked like a practice area, was located adjacent to a small brick building and was bordered on the far end by a steep embankment.
Immediately the possessed brunette's muscles tensed and her heart began to thump in her chest. Bringing her car to a halt only about twenty-five yards or so from where the boys were playing, she glanced at the brick building, which was actually a field house, noted that it was empty, and turned off the engine.
Inside the trailing Pontiac a big wide grin crossed Nick Saxby's face. That was it, he thought. This was the moment he would discover what made Norma Peterson tick, the moment the desperate job battle would turn in his favor.
The attractive dark-haired woman in the convertible slipped on a pair of sunglasses and withdrew a compact mirror from her pocketbook. She nervously caressed the long lustrous locks of her hair and shot quick glances out of the corner of her eye. Good, she thought to herself. They hadn't noticed her yet, since they were too wrapped up in their little football game.
Finally, though, she could stand the temptation no longer. Inserting the compact in her pocketbook she kicked off her high-heeled shoes, curled up her legs on the front seat, and resting her arm on the door panel of the driver's side, turned to feast her eyes on her catch — two innocent young teenagers who hadn't the faintest idea what was in store for them.
God, they were so youthful, so naive, she mused. Their guileless innocence was practically making her drool, and yet at the same time she despised them for the very fact that they were young males, that they reminded her of the terrible thing a group of young boys had done to her in the distant past.
The boy on the left from her vantage point looked about fourteen. He had thick chestnut brown hair and deep-set brown eyes. He was .wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt that molded around his chest to reveal his developing muscles. His low-slung faded jeans clung tightly to the slender cheeks of his buttocks, and her eyes fixed on him intently as he faded back to throw a long pass.
The boy who was running swiftly to catch it was shorter and a bit stockier but about the same age and with wild curly blond hair. His agile young legs churned powerfully as he raced after the football that had been thrown over his head, and with a graceful lunge he caught it in his fingertips, brought it down against his chest and dove expertly to the ground, rolling on his shoulder and bouncing quickly to his feet.
"Nice catch, banana face," the brown-haired boy called out.
"Wilson," the second boy shouted back, "your turn next." And cocking his arm, he hurled the football in a long high arc.
Norma watched all this as though she were witnessing a ballet of youthful innocence. God, how could she do what she had to do next to these inexperienced youngsters? How could she shock and tantalize them by exposing her panties to their inexperienced eyes? Yet now, even as these doubts plagued her, she found herself slipping gradually into an overwhelming trance-like state. Tense with anticipation she moistened her full red lips with the tip of her tongue and began gliding her hands sensually up over the gauzy material of her see-through blouse. Slowly, one by one, she undid the top three buttons to reveal just a hint of her voluptuous white breasts and the alluring deep valley between them.
From a distance, Nick Saxby squinted his eyes to focus more accurately on this incredible sight, and now beyond any doubt, he realized that Flo had been right. Jesus! Norma Peterson was going to pick up those two young kids. Excitedly he pressed forward in his seat, draping his arms over the steering wheel. In fact, he was so worked up he had almost forgotten that he'd brought his camera along with him. Damn, what was she going to do next?
For a long moment Norma merely stared lustfully at the two teenagers, who were still absorbed in their game, and as she stared her yearning nipples rose to erect little points against the restraints of her flimsy white brassiere. Chills of lewd excitement began to pulse through her trembling body. God, how desperately she wanted these kids to look at her. How desperately she wanted them to gape in amazement as she lured them over to the car and exposed herself to them!
With the palms of her hands, Norma pushed her proudly swelling breasts up against each other, squeezing her aching nipples through her brassiere with the tips of her fingers. Any minute now they would see her, and any minute they would stop dead in their tracks, bug-eyed. Then they would be all hers, trapped in the web of depravity she had so carefully spun for them.
In a minute it happened. Paul Wilson, the brown-haired boy, just by chance glanced over in the direction of the white convertible he had seen out of the corner of his eye. He did so at the very moment the football was hurtling directly toward him and the sight that struck his eyes was so amazing that his mouth gaped open, his hands fell to his sides, and the football bounced off his chest without him even blinking.
"Jesus Christ!" he gaped.
"Hey, what happened? You look like you saw a ghost," the blond boy called out.
"Ghost, shit. Take a look over there, Jimmy."
Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks, shot a glance at the convertible and froze. Jesus Christ was right! The dark-haired woman in the car had her blouse unbuttoned part way, and she was rubbing her half-naked tits in broad daylight. The two boys stared at her in unconcealed wonder, their eyes glazed, their mouths hanging incredulously open.
Sudden pulsations of joy rippled through Norma Peterson's body. She had them now. They were all hers to do with as she wanted! Casually she slid down in the car seat, her short tweed dress bunching up around her hips. Her long slender right leg reached out, and with her toes she pressed down on the door handle and kicked the passenger door halfway open.
"Holy shit, what do you think she's doing?" Jimmy asked.
"Beats me, but I'm gonna find out. She looks like a spaced-out chick. Come on, Porter, get down so she can't see us coming."
The two teenagers sank to their knees and stealthily crept over the grass to get a better angle on the front seat of the car. To their amazement, Norma's stretched out foot kicked the door open even wider until it swung out full length.
But Norma Peterson wasn't the only one who took in their look of youthful surprise: Nick Saxby saw it too, even though he couldn't see what his scheming co-worker was doing at the moment. Now was his chance, he thought. While she was sunk down in the car seat and the two kids were absorbed in gazing at her he could sneak behind that brick field house and make his way to the steep embankment at the other end of the playing field. From there he could see exactly what was going on and what's more, take photographs of it.
Christ, he thought, it was almost unbelievable that this super-efficient business woman had just transformed herself into a lust-crazed child-seducer, but there it was — happening right before his very eyes . . .
As the titillated whispers of the two young teenagers floated to her ears, Norma reclined sensually back against the cool leather car seat and spread her willowy legs brazenly apart. Her left foot dangled off the front edge of the seat and touched the thick-carpeted floor while her right leg she tucked back under her thigh. Even now she could feel tiny warm droplets of moisture seeping down into her flimsy panty crotch band.
Come closer, she murmured to herself, come closer and see Norma's panties. You want to touch them, don't you? You want to run your little fingers over the cool silk and feel my hot little pussy. You want to, don't you?
As a tantalizing smile played lewdly over her lips, she reached down for the hem of her short skirt and worked it even higher to reveal the entirety of her daringly brief white bikini panties.
"Oh wow!" Jimmy Porter moaned ecstatically. "I gotta get closer."
"Hey, wait a minute. You can't — she's gonna see us."
"The hell with that. I'm gonna get a fifty-yard line seat."
Before Paul could restrain his friend, Jimmy was crawling on his hands and knees toward the convertible like a hungry dog.
Norma, fully conscious of the excitement she was arousing, slowly caressing the insides of her stocking-sheathed thighs. Her fingers rippled up and down over the firmly yielding flesh like tickling feathers, slithering inch by inch up toward the silken sheen of her panties, and she could feel the hot wet moisture of her loins seeping out in greater excitement against the tightly confining nylon.
Jimmy by now was within ten feet of the car, and he could hear his companion crawling up fast behind him. The sight of the lewdly sprawled woman on the front seat was making his penis shoot up inside his pants like a bamboo pole. Jesus, she was driving him crazy! He thought any minute he was going to cum in his pants!
In the meantime, Nick Saxby had sneaked around the field house unnoticed and hidden himself along the embankment about seventy-five yards away from the convertible. His view was not as good as he would have liked, but he could still see plenty, especially after he'd attached a telephoto lens to his camera. He could see Norma Peterson, the high-powered executive of Cunningham Manufacturing Company, invitingly laid out on the front seat of her convertible on the verge of seducing two young boys. Hell, that was all he needed! He had something on her now, and if she thought she was going to get the best of him she was dead wrong. Still, even though he had discovered her secret, he continued watching the salacious spectacle unfolding on the playing field below. He could feel his cock springing out hard and rigid against the confines of his pants. Hell, that bitch was one big tease all right, and if it was the last thing he did he was going to shove his cock inside those flimsy little panties of hers. But for now he was just going to watch.
Down below inside the convertible, Norma suddenly removed her sunglasses and stared straight at the two boys creeping up on her. For a moment, a surge of terrified panic sped through the teenagers' bodies, and they were on the verge of bolting until the attractive dark-haired woman spoke to them in a deep, throaty voice.
"You like my panties, don't you? You want to touch them?" She murmured hoarsely. Her eyes looked kind of funny, the boys noticed, as though she were in another world or something.
Too dumbfounded to say anything, Paul and Jimmy gazed at her in disbelief as she smiled at them like a beautiful sorceress.
Then she raised herself up in the seat and propped her shoulders against the car door on the driver's side, her quivering milk-white legs still splayed obscenely apart.
She began running the tips of her fingers slowly along the lacy edge of her panty crotch band, soft throaty moans tumbling from her throat. As she tilted her head back against the rolled-down window, her long flowing brown locks cascaded over the door panel on the outside like beautiful silk.
Jimmy could see the long elegant curve of her neck leading down to the parted folds of her blouse where it swelled into the roundly curving cleavage of her half-naked breasts. Like a moth drawn to light, he moved toward the lewdly beckoning woman despite the cautioning whispers of his friend.
"Come, little boy, come here," Norma urged in a low otherworldly voice, mesmerized by her own power over him.
Only moments ago this blond curly-haired teenager was enjoying a simple game of catch with his friend. He had been a sexual innocent just like all the other inexperienced youngsters in the world, but now she could see the first faint glimmerings of lust in his wide-open eyes -glimmerings of lust such as she had seen once before in the distant past. Only this time it was different. She was the one in control now, the one who could make him do whatever she wanted: Stop if she said stop, come if she said come.
A low inviting groan purred from her throat as she arched her back away from the car door and spread her legs even farther apart, thrusting her vagina forward, teasing him with the sight of her brief white panties, the silken second skin that guarded the treasure of her loins.
His hand was at the car door, trembling as he tried to decide whether to jump in the front seat with her or run away. Hell, he couldn't run away from something like this, from some strange beautiful woman who was offering her body to him. God, how he wanted to fuck her if she would only give him some signal, if she would only let him know. He'd never fucked a girl before, never even touched one, but man he sure knew what to do, given half a chance.
But the lewdly positioned woman was not about to give him that chance. She was going to let him dangle there for a good long moment until his little penis bulged so hard in his pants that he couldn't stand it any longer. She was going to tease him and make him pay for what other cruel teenage boys had done to her in the past.
Norma glided the tips of her fingers back and forth along the insides of her thighs, up over her stockings to the lacy white straps of her garter belt and the small unprotected area of naked trembling flesh between.
"Ummmh," she moaned through slightly parted lips as she rested her head back against the door panel, letting her eyes flicker shut.
Tiny electric sensations streamed through her body as her fingertips began tracing the lacy trim of her panties, squeezing the edges ever so slightly toward the center to reveal the curly strands of dark pubic hair nestled beneath.
Jimmy Porter's eyes bulged out like watermelons, and his stiff young penis danced savagely inside his pants. Jesus, he wanted to cum all over her panties. Why didn't she say something to him? What did she want him to do?
"Get inside, quickly," the mysterious woman whispered at last, determined to get this boy even if his friend didn't seem to want to move. His hands trembling, his heart pounding like a tom-tom, Jimmy half-leaped onto the front seat.
"Get up on your knees on the seat," she ordered him. His whole body shaking like a vibrating machine, he obeyed her command, not realizing that he was unwittingly posing for a photograph, for high on the embankment seventy-five yards away, Nick Saxby framed the scene below, adjusted the focusing ring on his telephoto lens and began shooting.
"You like my panties?" Norma cooed at the helpless teenager. "You want to touch them, don't you?"
"Y-yessss," Jimmy stammered. "Cripes yessssss!"
Slowly, rhythmically, she began to thrust her pelvis up and down in a lewd grinding motion, tantalizing the young boy with the enticingly rounded mound of her vagina as she undulated her hips in obscene sexual rhythms. All this time the blond boy knelt rigidly still, his body shaking and trembling as he hovered before her like a young slave in front of a goddess.
Lightning sensations of forbidden excitement flashed through Norma's belly at the thought of the power she wielded over this powerless youngster. Velvety moisture seeped down between the pulsating lips of her vagina as she carefully drew the lacy crotch band to one side and briefly exposed her desire-swollen pussy to his eager eyes.
"Oh wow!" Jimmy whined like a tortured animal. She was flashing her cunt at him, and he was just kneeling there like a dumb ass-hole. Christ, he couldn't stand it any longer! He was going to jump right on top of her!
But before he could move, she began whispering instructions to him in a sharp commanding voice.
"Undo your zipper!" she ordered him like an angry school teacher.
"Oh J-Jeeeesus!" he gasped as he fumbled with his fly and felt a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
In the meantime, his friend found that he couldn't stand the suspense any longer. Paul Wilson crept forward on his hands and knees, his stiff cock thrashing around inside his pants like an angry snake. When he had reached the car he timidly rose to his feet and peered into the front seat just in time to see the strange mystery woman reaching inside Jimmy's pants and grasping his young cock firmly in her hand.
"Holy balls!" the spying teenager swore out loud, though he wasn't the only one who was amazed.
Hidden behind a low shrub on the embankment Nick Saxby zeroed in on the scene again with his camera. What a shot! That young kid on his knees with his cock hanging out and Norma Peterson's hand wrapped around it. This was going to be an aware-winning photograph, he chuckled to himself as he snapped the shutter.
Jimmy Porter couldn't hear the distant chick, however. The only thing he could hear was the crazy pounding of his own blood inside his head and the excited fluttering of his heart as the lust-demented older woman wrapped her fingers around the entire length of his penis and began stroking it back and forth, making it swell and pulse as though it had a life of its own.
"Oh wow!" he gasped out loud, supporting himself with one hand on the dashboard and the other on the top of the car seat. Crazy sensations rippled up and down his spine, and his balls ached as though they were going to explode at any second.
Her clasped fingers glided over the bulbous rubbery head, sliding down the length of its rigid base as it jerked and palpitated with excitement.
"Aaaaagh!" he moaned as she reached inside his pants and began massaging the small hairless sac of his balls. His young penis quivered and throbbed, ready to spew its white-hot load in mid-air.
"Get closer!" she hissed. "Closer!"
As waves of savage excitement swarmed through his body, the curly-haired youth moved deeper in between her widespread legs.
He could feel them moving together, circling around his own legs where they were bent at the knee, trapping him in her web, her body sliding down in the seat so that the hem of her skirt pushed farther up over her stomach.
"Now I'm going to let you fuck my little panties. That's what you want, isn't it?" she breathed.
"G-geeze yes, yes!"
The sweating palms of his hands gripped the car seat and dashboard on either side for dear life as his friend looked on in utter amazement from behind. Paul Wilson's mouth was wide open, his face pale and his entire body trembling. Holy balls! He wanted to jump right in there and push Jimmy out of the way. Jesus, this was the first real live piece of ass he'd seen in his entire life.
Paul's young cock throbbed wildly inside his pants as he gaped at the lewdly aroused woman's thighs wrapped luridly around his companion's legs, the thin straps of her garter belt expanding and contracting as she rhythmically squeezed and released her obscene scissor-grip around his legs. And then right before his eyes, he saw her suddenly yanking Jimmy's pants down below his buttocks. Goddamn, he must be about ready to shoot his wad!
As the swollen lips of her pussy palpitated insanely beneath her panties, Norma grasped the captive teenager's cock and guided it up against the hotly swelling mound of her vagina, feeling it pulse and throb with spasmodic ecstasy.
Deep passionate moans poured from her lips as she levered her legs up high and wrapped them firmly around the young boy's muscular white buttocks.
"Ooooo Christ!" he wailed, clenching his eyes shut against the aching pain inside his testicles. His arms strained against their supports as the obscenely aroused woman guided the narrow rubbery head of his cock up tight against the obscenely moistened crotch band of her panties still sheathing her palpitating cunt like a silk scabbard.
"Uuuggghhh, God! I'm gonna cum!" he wailed, his body shuddering with unknown pleasure.
Norma gasped and moaned as her cream-white thighs squeezed against the teenager's hips and her pelvis began to undulate in an intense quickening rhythm.
"More! More!" she demanded as she suddenly reached out and grasped his hard unspoiled ass-cheeks and pulled his naked hips closer to her.
His throbbing young cock pushed the soft wet silk of her panties a quarter inch up into the tight slippery depths of her pussy, straining futilely against the frustrating restraint of this strange condom.
"Oh God, cum, cum!" she gasped as she tore at his buttocks, her fingernails raking deep welts in his resilient skin.
Sweat was pouring off the young boy's face now, not the cold sweat of fear but the hot dripping sweat of youthful passion. His heart leaped up inside his throat and pounded there like a jackhammer as his hands tore themselves loose from the car seat and dashboard, and he lunged forward on top of the lewdly squirming female beneath him.
"Aaaaahhh, nooo!" Norma squealed, suddenly aware that the once-helpless youngster was seizing the initiative. But it was too late now. Her own body had deserted her and she could feel wickedly pulsating sensations of her own desire rippling out of control through her belly.
Like an animal gone wild she locked her legs even tighter around the young boy's buttocks, pushed up his sweatshirt, and dug her nails into the naked skin of his back.
"Fuck me, fuck me, damnit!" she screamed, her stocking-sheathed legs hotly squeezing his virginal young body, her feet pointed high up in the air above the convertible.
Obediently, the young boy grunted like a baby elephant and shoved his cock hard up inside her wetly throbbing pussy, pushing the panty silk far into the depths of her vaginal canal.
He grasped her half-clad breasts hungrily as his body squirmed and jerked in an awkward dance of adolescent lust, kneading and squeezing them until submissive moans of lewd abandon broke from her throat.
"Harder, harder!" she wailed, raking her fingernails across his back until she could feel their path lubricated by blood.
The young boy grunted and moaned as his watching companion grasped the rear door of the car so tightly that his muscles shook and shuddered.
"Oh God, I'm gonna cum!" Jimmy moaned. His stiff young penis twitched spasmodically inside the warm walls of the writhing woman's panty-lined cunt, and then it burst like a bomb.
Wave after wave of hot wet liquid poured into the strange woman's savagely grasping cunt pounding against the unnatural barrier of her panties. Her legs jerked and squeezed as she dug her fingernails into his buttocks, her belly quivering with perverse passion, her cuntal lips clasping and unclasping around the eager young cock erupting frantically inside her. She moaned and shuddered, her head tossing back and forth in desperate abandon until finally she exhaled a heavy gasping breath and released her legs.
The young boy pulled out of her abruptly, his mind awhirl with confusion. Hurriedly he jerked up his shorts and pants and buckled his belt as Norma sprawled out luxuriously on the seat, letting her eyes flicker closed.
Jimmy was scared to death now as he stumbled backward out of the convertible. Jesus, he was sure somebody must be looking.
"Come on, quick!" Jimmy repeated, grabbing Paul's arm. It was a tough struggle, but the blond-haired boy finally managed to pry his partner loose and the two of them dashed back for their football and then blitzed across the field as though they were being chased by jet planes.
They weren't the only ones who were excited, though. On top of the embankment, Nick Saxby was so shaken that when he lit a cigarette to calm his nerves he found that his hands were trembling uncontrollably.
Jesus, he had never expected anything like this, never in his life! Funny thing, though ... his blackmail mission had suddenly become less important. The thing he wanted most now was to fuck the living daylights out of snobbish Miss Norma Peterson. Jesus, what a cock-teaser!