Chapter 2
Little Larry Dempsey lived with his parents and older brother Fred in a small frame house on the other side of San Martin. As she feared, Shirley Jackson was late for her piano lesson with him, and drove speedily across town, under the expressway, and up the hill which led to the tract development where the Dempsey's house was situated. The house itself was nestled behind a large trellis of roses and Burmese honey-suckle, a cool cream-color with chocolate brown trim.
The piano teacher parked her car down the block a ways, there being no space available nearer the Dempsey's, and hurried back up the street. She recognized some of the neighbors and waved to them as she passed, and their young children yelled and ran around the yards like helter-skelter monkeys. When she reached the Dempsey house, she turned and went up the concrete path to the front porch, the top of her head barely missing the just-budding green vines. She rang the door bell, and as she waited for somebody to answer, she glanced over at the driveway which ran alongside the house. She saw that it was empty of the family stationwagon, and even sixteen year old Frank's old Chevy hot-rod was gone. She was just beginning to wonder if anyone at all was home, when the door opened and fourteen year old Larry greeted his music teacher with a large smile.
"Hello, Mrs. Jackson," Larry said, stepping aside so she could enter.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she said. "I was awfully busy. I ... had my hands full this morning." The Freudian slip of tongue almost caused her to blush, and she clutched the black leather music satchel with both hands, suddenly nervous. "I mean, I was all tied up."
"Oh, that's all right," Larry responded cheerily, "I wasn't doing anything special." He led the way through the living room and into the den, which had been converted into a playroom for him and his brother. "Everybody's gone right now. Dad had to work, and Mom went shopping. I'm not sure where Frank is, but he left just before you came, with his buddy Kirby. You know Kirby, don't you?"
"Yes," Shirley said somewhat curtly, for indeed, she did know Kirby Murdock. Kirby was a lumbering boy of Frank's age, with a rotten, bully-like temper and a stupid disposition.
Kirby's mother had once hired Shirley to teach the boy, on the pretense that "music soothes the savage beast," but it had been a miserable failure from the beginning. Sullen and indifferent, the boy had refused to cooperate, losing his sheet music, never practicing, and generally wasting his parent's money and his teacher's time. After three months of frustration, Shirley had gone to Mrs. Murdock and resigned, stating the reasons in no uncertain terms. She learned later that Kirby's father had taken a belt to him for it, a punishment which strained relations whenever she and the teenager happened to cross paths. She was, therefore grateful that Larry's brother had left with Kirby, and was not here to disrupt the lesson.
Frank Dempsey was, unfortunately, more like Kirby than he was like his brother. Small for his age, he had to prove his masculinity by consistently being a show-off and pest. He teased Larry unmercifully about his music lessons, and from what Larry had told her off and on, Shirley got the impression that Frank was in hot water over something or other at least once a week.
Larry Dempsey was, for Shirley, one of those rare boys who make all the sacrifice and trouble worthwhile. He was smart and capable, quiet and studious, and it had always seemed a shame to the older woman that he was around the influence of his brother and friends like Kirby Murdock. Larry was tall and lean, a brown-haired youth with a cherubic, freckled face with dimples, and engaging smile, and a feline grace about him that made him outstanding in athletics. He would grow to be an exceptionally handsome man, she knew, but there was more about him that was intriguing than merely his physical characteristics. He had an innate charm and graciousness that was never pretentious or prissy, a certain "animalism" which would bowl over the girls later on when he became old enough to date. It was no wonder that his brother Frank tried to put him down constantly, naturally jealous of a younger brother who had so much more a personality than himself.
"What would you like me to begin with, Mrs. Jackson?" Larry asked as they crossed the den to the piano. It was an old Chickering, the pride and joy of his mother's, having been in her family since the turn of the century. It was out of place in this house, but its massive blonde wood and scrolled baby-grand box were so majestic, and its tone so beautiful, that nobody would willingly part with it if at all possible.
Shirley lovingly ran her hand across its glossy finish. "Well, you know we have the Children's Concert coming up next week, Larry. Have you been practicing for it?"
"Oh, yes! An hour every day, first on scales, then on Bartok and the other piece you taught me last month, and then on the selection for the concert, Beethovan's Moonlight Sonata."
"Then why don't you give me a little private concert?" she said, sitting down on a chair next to the keyboard. "A few scales, either the Bartok or the other, and then the Sonata? "
"Gee, that would be fine, Mrs. Jackson," Larry said. He took his place at the piano stool, which was, unfortunately, not the one which went with the piano originally. He began to run through the scales, starting a middle C, and then going through them all, black and white keys both, two octaves at a time.
Larry's older music teacher listened with half an ear. She had heard the scales so many times in her thirty-two years that she could play them in her sleep, but she preferred her pupils to begin with them as a warming-up exercise to limber their fingers for the other tunes they would play. And Shirley wanted to have Larry play at his best this morning, for it would be the last time she'd be able to help him before the concert. Next Saturday's lesson would really be too late for any meaningful corrections, since the concert was to be that night, only a few hours afterwards.
The Children's Concert was her own creation, and she not only wanted Larry to play his best for it, but wanted it to be a great success for all her pupils. After years of teaching piano, a means of income she'd fallen back on after her divorce from Douglas, she had discovered that while parents love to have their children take lessons, they aren't especially interested in hearing other boys and girls do their selections. And after having listened day and night to then-darlings practicing a particular piece of music, they weren't overly enthusiastic about getting dressed up to drive someplace and hear it all over again. Hence, the usual form of recital had always proven a disappointment for Shirley and her students. This concert, on the other hand, was entirely reserved for the children alone. No parents allowed, which naturally appealed to her pupils and brought something of a sigh of relief from their parents. Other boys and girls could come if they wished, though none older than high-school age, the age of her students. But mostly she hoped for a large turnout of her own charges playing for one another in a spirit of fun and comradeship and friendly competition.
After young Larry had done his scales, he at once began to play some of the simpler Hungarian folk songs by Bela Bartok, which are an excellent, sprightly variation to the usual classical selections. The fourteen year old student obviously liked their vigor, and played the three which he'd learned with gusto and zest. Shirley watched him more closely now, only interrupting occasionally, as the boy obviously knew them well. The older woman couldn't help studying him as she did so, his dark-haired features a fresh and vibrant contrast to the warm, mellowed ivory and wood of the keyboard. She saw how erect and yet relaxed he was as he sat on the unsteady round stool, and a tiny shiver of attraction spontaneously rippled up along her spine. My Lord, he was a handsome child! she thought subconsciously. The way little Larry was right that moment, slightly silhouetted by the curtained window beside him, why ... why he vaguely reminded Shirley of her erotic dreams earlier this morning!
A quick flash of remembered fantasies while she had masturbated in the bathrub brought the mature piano teacher abruptly upright. She sucked in her breath from the shock of her indecent thoughts, and mentally chastised herself again, doubly so this time for having such lewd and debasing ideas about so innocent a youth. She glanced away, burning with sudden shame, but still she was uncontrollably aware that his virile body was less than two feet away from her. She could almost feel the warmth of his adolescent virility pulsing out to her from the smooth, developing muscles working beneath his thin striped shirt and tight cotton twill pants. God! What was she thinking? Now thoroughly alarmed by her unwanted but erotically enticing reveries, Shirley interrupted the boy, intent on changing her train of indecent thoughts.
"Larry," she cut in, halting his playing. "I ... I believe that will be quite enough of Bartok. You .. . you know the songs very well. Play something else now."
"What would you like, Mrs. Jackson?"
"I ... I don't care," she said, oddly breathless and chagrined at her peculiar condition. "Anything. Anything you want."
She smiled encouragingly at the lad, and for a long moment neither of them said a word. They just continued to look at one another as if lost in indecision. Shirley squirmed uneasily in her chair, increasingly mortified by the way she couldn't break her eyes from his lithe, slender figure on the unbalanced stool. Worse, she sensed that she was beginning to imagine Larry's own gaze was immodestly staring at her full-grown, mature body. His eyes were almost a solid touch upon her flesh, seeming to roam eagerly over her firm, rounded breasts and the inviting curves of her thighs and legs.
Nervously, the older woman crossed her legs as if to protect her pubic area from young Larry's scrutiny, and when she did so, the boy felt his breath freeze in his throat. Man! Mrs. Jackson is sure stacked! the teenager thought unconsciously as he watched her. His teacher was wearing a real short skirt this morning, almost a mini-skirt, and cripes! she sure had the legs for it! And the swell of her hips . .. that wasn't baby fat like on some of the girls he knew at school, but nice, firm flesh, woman's flesh .. . just like those titties were that stuck out from her pale green blouse like pointed headlights! He bet her bobbies would stand up just the same way without a brassiere on and not hang down like his mother's did. Just the mere thought of her naked breasts made his pecker tingle with excitement! He'd always had a secret desire to see Mrs. Jackson naked, and then show her he was grown-up enough for her. His penis was nearly raw from beating off while thinking of her wanting him ... but he knew deep down that she'd just laugh and call it puppy-love. Heck, what would a grown-up lady like Mrs. Jackson want with a fourteen year old kid, when she could have all the men she'd want?
Ashamed at his lewd thoughts, the boy quickly averted his face, and stammered in his high-pitched voice: "I ... I'll play C'oq a Vin, that little French piece."
"That. . . That will be fine, Larry," Shirley's fingers were now clutching the cloth fabric of her chair, her nerves taught with a sense of apprehension and arousal. C'oq a Vin . . . C'oq a Vin, her unsettled mind turned over and over the title as he began to play the tune . . . C'oq a Vin . . . C'oq . . . cok.. . cock. .. Cock! What kind of cock did darling Larry have? Slender and no doubt hairless all around it with his immaturity ... Four to five inches long when hard, she figured; that sounded right for a boy of his age .. . Shirley could almost visualize it now, standing rigidly erect, quivering with his eagerness and inexperience .. .The thought of his erect penis made her throb in the pit of her belly, and she sensed a beginning heat teasing her loins as though she were melting inside. Yes, melting that giant iceburg of frigid unresponse ...
Dear God! What was she allowing to happen to her? She was reacting crazily to this youth! She was supposed to become excited by a man, by Douglas . . . not by a boy less than half her age! Again she recalled lying in her bathrub and thinking about a teenager like Larry fucking her, and how she had almost gone out of her mind with the obscene idea while she masturbated. She blushed slightly at the guilt flickering through her conscience, and squirmed her buttocks deeper into the cushion of the chair, the edge brushing up against the soft swelling of her vagina beneath her thin white panties. She involuntarily gasped at the electric contact and the more unexpected thrill it had produced, her pulse quickening against her will. A boy ... a mere fourteen year old child was doing this to her! Dear God, she had to get hold of herself!
Desperately she shot upright out of the chair, intent on escaping the strange and inexplicible sensations that were thrilling her flesh. She could feel a tremor of passion deep down between her thighs even while she stood trembling, watching the boy as he stopped playing and looked up at her in startlement. She realized with shame and torment that she was maddeningly gripped with the lewd temptation to reach out and caress the flat curve of Larry's youthful belly where it disappeared inside of his trousers! Lord, she was all but talking herself into seducing him! The consequences of such a lewd, corrupting act were all to clear, even to her highly agitated state of mind, and she squeezed her legs tightly together in an effort to cease the forbidden sensations that were pulsating between her thighs.
"What ... What's the matter, Mrs. Jackson?" Larry asked apprehensively. "What's wrong?"
Shirley blinked her eyes, trying not to allow the still smoldering embers of the fire her masturbating fantasies had lit within her to grow any more heated than they already were. Tell him I must leave, her tortured mind demanded. Tell him I'm sick, I forgot something at home ... anything! Anything at all! Yet haplessly, the older woman realized that she could not hide a curt brush-off behind some phony excuse. Larry would see right through it, and she knew he'd be hurt and possibly hate her for the unexplainable lie. She couldn't do that to him, much less risk the ruination of her Children's Concert next week. But she couldn't possibly tell him the truth, either! She had to find a way of regaining her self-control and fight this horrid impulse through to the end! She had to! ¦
Thickly, she answered the boy, "Nothing, Larry. I ... I thought I saw a mouse, and it scared me."
"A mouse? Where?"
"It was silly of me." She tried to laugh, but it came out forced and hollow. "There wasn't any. It was just a shadow."
With a suddenness born of anguish, Shirley reached toward the sheet music on the piano stand, saying, "Now how about the Sonata? " In her impulsiveness, she accidently bumped against Larry on the rickity stool, and she gasped unwittingly as the pliant firmness of one breast brushed teasingly against his hairless young cheek. Her involuntary caress made the youth all the more conscious of her lush, womanly form, and in his own attempt to break the prurient spell, he reached up to get the musical score for her. Doing so, he began to loose his balance on the teetering stool, its castors rolling on the slickly waxed flooring, and its top wobbling on the slim screw-support connecting it to the metal base.
"Watch out, Mrs. Jackson!" he blurted as he felt himself falling.
But Shirley, already feeling dizzy from the feel of the boy momentarily against her, lost her footing with him. "Oh!" she cried out, and together they swayed for a split second, and then tumbled to the floor. They dropped in a tangle of arms and legs, the stool skittering against the wall. Larry was unconsciously squirming between her open thighs and up against her panty-covered vaginal crevice before either of them was aware of how they had landed, Shirley clutching him tightly for support.
Because of his sprawled position, his firm, taut buttocks were the first part of him she involuntarily grasped, and the older woman could see the white waistband of the boy's undershorts peeking above the stretched belt-line of his pants. Her fingers slipped on his faded trousers, circling around until they nearly touched his crotch. Shirley could feel his leg muscles as they curved inward to form his developing genitals, and the thickness of his zipper fly creased against her skin. She sucked in her breath, feeling delicious sensations searing through her nerves. God, what on earth was happening to her senses?
"Gee, Mrs. Jackson, are you all right?" the boy said fearfully.
She couldn't seem to will her arms to let the youth free, their squalid position forgotten as her vagina tingled with moist flames of arousal.
"I'm fine, Larry," she managed to answer after a breathless moment. "Nothing's broken."
"Oh, Mrs. Jackson," Larry blurted out, trembling in her embrace. "You're so warm and soft!"
"Why, what a nice compliment to give, Larry."
"I mean it. Other ladies would be all mad at me, but you're not. You're the most wonderful woman I've ever known!"
"Thank you, Larry, and I ... I like you, too."
"You do?"
"Very much," she confessed, adding mentally: Too much, more than is healthy for either of us! Then she said, "But I think that we should get up now and continue with - "
Before she could finish the sentence, however, a strange mewl escaped from the young boy, and he suddenly threw his arms about the older woman and pressed his developing chest against her rounded breasts. His piano teacher gasped with surprise and struggled in his eager grip, but then just as abruptly, he lifted his shining face and kissed her full on the lips. His pressure was moist and soft and sensually alive on her mouth, his face grinding deliciously against hers in his immature zeal. His innocent desire for her only aroused Shirley more, and the feel of his trouser-covered virile penis against the softness of her lower belly incited her senses until they reeled.
An erotic picture formed in her mind at that moment ... of how he would look kissing her like this under the piano if he did not have any clothes on! With his delightfully straining penis naked and hard, sliding deep up inside her woman's vagina! Yes, and perhaps he would suck her nipples as he fucked into her with his adolescent lust.
No! I can't allow this! I can't even think this way! Horrified, Shirley renewed her struggled as she felt his lips leave hers, and his head rest gently between her brassiere-clad breasts.
"Please, Larry, don't..." she whimpered. "I ... I'm your teacher, Larry. This is wrong to do!"
"I'm sorry," he panted in response, his voice muffled by her blouse. "I just can't seem to help myself, Mrs. Jackson."
The boy released her and stared unhappily, humiliated for his brash, impulsive action. Shirley saw his eyes once more study her round, mature curves, and felt herself filled with an oddly immoral pride from his passionate staring. She could sense the aching hunger of before returning ever stronger, growing and flaming in her loins, licking upwards to harden the nipples of her breasts. She bit the soft flesh of her lower lip, determined to overcome the salacious temptations which her masturbation and then his kiss had irrevocably started within her belly. Her gaze accidently fell to the lap of his tight pants, and the sight of his crotch filled the aroused older woman with still greater desire which both thrilled and terrified her at the same time. Bulging out against the soft fabric was the clear, unmistakeable outline of his slender young penis! The boyish cock she had felt against her belly was straining the material, seeming to grow long and rigid even as she watched it! Oh no! The darling boy had an erection - an erection just for her! She had involuntarily excited him, and even if his immature mind didn't know what was happening, his virile body did! And the sight of it was driving her wild!
She clutched one leg of the piano for a second, trying miserably to collect her tattered emotions. Dear God, what had taken possession of her so thoroughly? A stupid question; she knew all too well what was the matter. She could feel the inflamed pink lips of her swollen vagina tingling madly against the soft silkiness of her white nylon panties. She could feel her pebble-hard nipples thrusting sensitively against the soft silkiness of her white nylon panties. She could feel her pebble-hard nipples thrusting sensitively against the clinging material of her straining brassiere as her full curving breasts heaved with the sweet agony of her ever-mounting lust for this innocent child. Oh God in heaven ... how she knew!
"I ... I'm sorry," was all the stricken boy could repeat after a long pause. "I guess I shouldn't have kissed you like that, Mrs. Jackson. Please don't be made at me. Please don't!"
"I ... I'm not, Larry. But we should be getting up off the floor now. What if your mother came home and found us under the piano this way?"
"She won't. She'll be gone for hours, and so will everybody else. We're all alone in the house, Mrs. Jackson."
All alone in the house. . . Shirley shivered from the subversive thought, knowing there was only herself and young Larry to stop her molesting desires which were now burning furiously in her loins. She had dreamed of a teenager like him making obscene love to her, and dear God, here he was! This beautiful youngster, eager and wanting, just as she wanted him, only he had the innocence not to realize what it was that was making his virile body harden with craving for her. He was only aware that there was something compelling him to hold her, kiss her, feast his eyes blatantly upon her as though already seeing her naked.
A savage thrill speared through the weaking woman's resolve as she felt a tremor of erotic response deep between her moist inner thighs. The little darling wanted to see her naked breasts and legs, and if only she had the lewd nerve to let him! She was filled with the perverted desire to stand up and take her clothes off right then and there, before his widened eyes; to strip right down to where he could see everything he wanted to ... even her secretion-wet vagina!
Damn! Oh damnation, she had to resist her unspeakably wicked impulses which were tugging at the very core of her being! This was horrible, she told herself. . . horrible and even perverted to lead on little Larry this way! Yet in spite of her sincere revulsion at her own animal lustings, the piano teacher felt another tremendous surge of salacious delight charging through her at the notion of possessing the youth. How easy it would be ... All she'd have to do is crook her finger and Larry would come begging like the eager student he was . .. and then . . . God, and then! She could feel herself trembling all over, her firm round buttocks quivering as she sat beneath the piano and attempted one last final time to gain control of her rapidly fleeing morality.
But it was too late. Too late! Too late even to feel remorse for the licking flames of indecent pleasure that were overcoming the moistened flesh of her warmly aroused cuntal slit. There was still a part of her mind which rebelled at the shameless immorality of her burgeoning needs, but a much more urgent voice was persuading her that she wanted this darling teenager more than she had ever wanted anything before in her life. And Larry wanted her just as desperately, that was obvious by the hardened outline in the front of his pants! How could she deny herself or the boy the forbidden pleasures they could enjoy together? God, she couldn't! It was too damned late to deny them!