The high vaulted ceilings and the cool marble walls of the waiting rooms of Grand Central Station create an atmosphere of quiet tranquility in the midst of the raucous bustle of New York for all but one week a year. During the third week of June each year tens of thousands of the city's youngsters descend upon the staid old terminal, giving it the appearance of a military marshalling area into which troops are assembled in preparation for a major offensive. Some observers remark that it looks more like a national political convention with the scores of cardboard placards assembling the delegates into territorially organized groups, except that the names on the cardboard banners are all the Indian names of the children's summer camps to which the more fortunate and affluent youth of Manhattan direct their annual exodus from the sweltering concrete jungle.
This summer, the din of excited young voices was deafening and already some of the wiser, long-seasoned commuters were detouring through the arcades to Lexington Avenue and the long, bare tunnel to the Roosevelt Hotel. Obviously they preferred extra steps to extra decibels.
In the midst of this melee, Frankie Powers felt ill at ease and totally out of place. The kids around him under the banner of Camp Mohawk all seemed so terribly juvenile. He towered head and shoulders above them. One nervous little lad had approached and asked him a question, addressing him as "sir." Obviously the young boy had thought that anyone as big as Frankie must be a counselor. He viewed the next ten weeks with resignation rather than anticipation. Didn't his folks realize that camp was for kids, not adolescents? The last summer he had been shipped off to camp he had been twelve; now he was nearly seventeen. Those five years made a hell of a difference in the type of nature study that interests a young man. He had graduated from leaf and butterfly collecting to a consuming interest in female anatomy. This summer would obviously offer no possibilities to advance that study. Later he would remember this thought and realize how wrong a guy can be when he makes a forecast based on superficial appearances.
"Are you sure you'll be all right at camp, son? The other boys all look so much younger and smaller than you."
"Yeah, Mom. I'll be just fine. It'll be fun getting back into the outdoor life again and maybe I can teach some of the younger guys a few things about camp life. You just enjoy your trip and don't give me a thought, except to send postcards from all those foreign countries. They'll impress the other campers." Frankie hoped it sounded more sincere than it felt. He knew that his mother had wanted him to make this chartered air tour around the world with them but his father had insisted that it was to be a second honeymoon and that you don't take teenage kids on honeymoons.
"Now, remember, Frankie, if you get into any trouble, or need money or anything at all, just call my office collect. My partner, Bob Robinson, has said that he'll be happy to take care of any little emergency you might encounter while I'm away. Don't hesitate to call him."
"I understand, Dad, but don't worry. How much trouble can I get into at a closely supervised kids' summer camp? Don't sweat it. There won't be any emergencies."
Aunt Grace spoke now for the first time since they'd arrived at the station: "I still say this is all very silly and unnecessary; shipping Frankie off with all those strange children when he could have spent the summer with me."
"Now, Grace, we've been all through that a dozen times. This is the best thing for all concerned," Frankie's father said with a touch of exasperation in his voice.
"Yes, I know," Grace replied icily, "but I want Frankie to know that he can call me collect at any hour of the day or night, too, while you're trotting all over the world. He always has Aunt Grace to take care of him."
Frankie wondered if his mother's big-titted sister had any idea just how much he wanted her to "take care" of him. He wondered if she suspected that he'd been having wet dreams about her ever since that night he'd caught a glimpse of her going past his door to the bathroom in the nude. She was more woman than any of the strippers at the burlesque show he sneaked in to see whenever he could.
His daydreams were interrupted by the camp director, who announced that it was time for all campers to line up and march to the private railroad car that would transport them to that crummy little burg in Maine where dear old Camp Mohawk was located. His father insisted on hugging and kissing him, which made Frankie blush. He was too big to be kissing Dad. He gave his mother a dutiful peck on the cheek. Then Aunt Grace gave him a big hug and kissed him square on the lips. Her full lips were soft on his and those wonderful huge tits flattened against his chest. It was a feeling he tried to carry with him to make the ten dreary weeks ahead seem bearable. He moved into line with the younger kids and gave his family a cursory wave. His mother was crying, but she always did on such occasions. Then suddenly he was marching towards the train and away from family life as he had always known it.
On the railroad car Frankie was happy to find a window seat to himself, away from the younger boys. His short, thin, camp uniform pants were about to rip from the ferocity of a throbbing hard-on that had developed when Aunt Grace had given him that good-bye kiss. He wondered if she had felt it develop in just those few seconds that she embraced him. He closed his eyes, remembering the touch of those soft lips and tits as he felt his inflamed cock twitch from the memory of the brief physical encounter. Already he could feel the sticky slime of the clear juice that always oozed out when a hard-on like that came on. He could feel the wetness of his shorts and knew that if it continued it would show through the khaki short pants.
Carrying a magazine in front of him to hide the bulging erection, he made his way to the men's room at the end of the coach. Safely inside, with the door locked, he took down his pants and shorts. Sitting on the John he stroked his drooling dong while he thought of Aunt Grace. He could still see those big bouncing tits and that mammoth patch of auburn cunthair that he had glimpsed in the hall that night. His hand was well-lubricated now with the clear heavy liquid that kept oozing from the hot slit. He masturbated slowly and gently as he tried to imagine that the palm of his hand was the inside of Grace's pussy.
Just as the swelling and throbbing became unbearable he opened his eyes and watched as he spurted a huge load of jism nearly a foot up into the air before it reached the peak of its trajectory and fell back to land in a big sticky white puddle. It took over a dozen of the little individual sheets of toilet paper to mop up the pool of warm come and to clean off his now shrunken cock. When he was sure he had removed the final traces of having jerked off before the train was even out of the tunnel at 125th Street, he adjusted his clothing and made his way back to his seat.
Frankie was so deep in his own thoughts that he was oblivious to the noisy mob of kids around him. Vaguely he wondered if he had ever really been that juvenile. He knew that he had nothing in common with these youngsters. No doubt his father had found it necessary to do a real selling job on the camp director to get him to accept a boy so much older than the others. In a strange way he relished the thought that this would be the worst summer of his life. He knew how much this big vacation meant to Mom and Dad. They had saved and planned on it for years. He had been the only real fly in the ointment. Mom had wanted him to take the tour too and had tried to convince his father what a great educational experience it would be for him. In the end she had backed down and now he felt like a martyr suffering punishment so that his parents might have pleasure. He prided himself on the fact that never once had he ex pressed any interest in taking the tour with them. At his age it would have made the most educational summer possible. He fell asleep now, content in the thought that he was doing a good deed with no hope of reward. The monotonous clickety-clack of the wheels over the rail joints seemed to keep repeating: "You're a good boy, Frankie ... you're a good boy."
The sun had dropped beneath the tops of the tall pines when they arrived at their destination and piled into the two old busses that would transport them the final eight miles through the woods to the campsite by the lake. By the time their tents were assigned and each boy had stowed his trunk of camp gear beneath his bunk and made that bunk with his own two blankets (sheets and pillows were frowned upon as retarding growth) it was dark. The yellow bulbs which were supposed to repel insects, but didn't, had been switched on from the camp office.
This first night there was to be no real supper in the mess hall. Instead the boys were all led out to a huge clearing around a roaring campfire where hot dogs and marshmallows were roasted. There was a welcoming speech by the camp director and then the counselors were introduced. Each tried hard to make it all sound like a lot of fun. They all sang a few songs and were then herded back to their tents.
Once the boys were in their pajamas and found their own bunks, the lights were turned off. Somewhere out there in the darkness a bugler played taps. It was obvious that he hadn't practiced since last summer. After he had faltered through the goodnight signal the quiet night air was returned to the chirping crickets and hooting owls. A couple of the younger boys began to cry from early pangs of homesickness. Frankie could hear the tent counselor trying to reassure them. In the confusion he slipped from his bunk and extracted a large handkerchief from his trunk. Crawling back between the blankets he carefully spread the handkerchief inside the fly of his pajama pants. He often had wet dreams lately and pecker tracks on the blankets would only cause a lot of lectures and recriminations. The blankets felt rough to his bare feet and he had trouble getting comfortable without a pillow. A couple of the younger boys began to snore as if they needed to have their adenoids and tonsils out. At last Frankie fell asleep and soon was dreaming of Aunt Grace. Before reveille he had mentally fucked her for the second and third times in the past eighteen hours.
When he awakened it took him a minute or two to realize where he was. When he did he was happy that he had taken the precaution to line his pajama pants with the handkerchief. With it he performed some necessary moppingup operations and then slipped from his bunk. He carefully checked the blankets before spreading them neatly. Sneaking the handkerchief full of jism into his trunk he dressed and joined the others for his first full day at summer camp.
CHAPTER TWO
When she had stepped forward to kiss Frankie good-bye Grace had hoped that her sister and that shithead she had married hadn't noticed that she kissed the boy full on the mouth and pulled him close to feel the hard hairy manliness of his young chest against the soft fleshiness of her ample breasts. It had only lasted for a second but she was sure that she had felt a hardening twitch of that lovely young prick against her hungry snatch that she had rubbed up close to his firm loins. Then, in a flash, it was over, and she watched as Frankie marched away with the others. He towered over the younger boys like a giant redwood in a scrub pine grove. What a criminal waste of that firm, anxious young male flesh to pack him off to camp with a bunch of mere children. Heaven knows she had pressed the point as hard and often as she dared to convince Sally and Harry that the boy would be better off with her while they were away. She had stressed the financial aspects of the situation, knowing that any saving of money always appealed to Harry. She had told Sally that she was afraid living in that house all alone and that Frankie could protect her as well as provide much needed company so soon after her divorce from Dick. Nothing had any effect. Now, when she needed him so badly, she watched helplessly as he was swept off into the north woods.
After a hasty good-bye, Sally and Harry hurried off to do some last-minute shopping. Grace had already promised to see them off at the airport at eleven that night. With Frankie in camp and her sister and brother-in-law flying around the world, she would be totally alone. For the first time since her divorce from "Dick the Prick" had become final, Grace realized that she was feeling sorry for herself.
"Okay, girl, that'll be about enough of that sympathy shit. What you need right now is a drink," she mumbled to herself as she headed toward the Commodore Bar just off the station waiting rooms. What she didn't put into words, even to herself, was that what she really needed was a man, not a drink. By going to the bar-" a hotel she, subconsciously, was man-hunting. It was her silent prayer that some horny salesman or visiting executive would pick her up at the bar, take her to his room, and give her a good, sound screwing. In her present mood she'd be the fastest, easiest pickup in town.
The happy hunting grounds she had chosen proved to be devoid of game. The only unattached male in the place was the old bald-headed bartender who, once he had served her, showed far more interest in listening to the race results on a small radio near the cash register than in conversing with a lonely, sex-starved woman. Grace sat quietly nursing her drink and hoping that a live one might come along. She discovered that by spreading her legs in a very unlady-like manner, some of the chilled conditioned air seeped up her skirts and helped to reduce the feverish temperature in her moist crotch. When they were girls, Sally had always bugged her about the fact that she refused to wear panties in the summer. She smiled at the thought of her square sister dashing about the sweltering streets and shops with her sweaty snatch prudishly encased in airtight nylon like a hairy turkey wrapped in tinfoil in the oven. The thought made her spread her legs even wider. She luxuriated in the delightful sensation as little gusts of cool air tickled the wisps of curly pubic hairs at the base of her ample bush.
Just thinking about her cunt made her hornier than ever. If she did get lucky today, she wondered if a strange man would suspect that the deep auburn of her titillating triangle was as phony as the auburn of her neatly coiffed tresses. She had colored her mousy ash-blonde hair for years. For some stupid reason she had always been ashamed of the fact and did not want her boy friends to discover that her collar and cuffs didn't match. From the very beginning she had fallen into the pattern of mixing an extra batch for a snatch to match. One day early in their marriage Dick had come home early and surprised her in the middle of her biweekly coloring session. He had seen the gook on her bush, as well as her head, and had nicknamed her "Clairol cunt." The momentary feel of Frankie's stiffening cock had thrown her into a frenzy of passion. Although she had never been much of an exhibitionist, right now she yearned for the admiring inspection of male eyes as she revealed her feminine charms.
Her erotic reverie was interrupted by the appearance of a virile-looking man in his early forties. Grace leaned forward slightly to reveal still more cleavage between her big boobs. She was encouraged by the fact that the sexy-looking guy was surveying the bar. When his eyes met hers she gave him a slight smile. He nodded almost imperceptibly and took a stool near the end of the bar. Old Baldy reluctantly left his radio race results and approached the new customer. Moments later he set a fresh drink in front of Grace.
"Compliments of the gentleman at the end of the bar, ma'am," he explained.
Well, now, Grace thought, things are beginning to look up. From the looks of him I'll bet he's hung like a horse, and I could use a good snatch-stretching. I'll lay odds that within an hour I'll be well-fucked.
After several minutes her drink sponsor had made no move to approach her. Grace wondered if perhaps he was a little timid after his original overture. She considered picking up her drink and going over to join him but rejected the idea as being a little too brazen. He might think that she was a whore anxious to make a big score and really be scared off. Now that her hot box had been artificially cooled by the airconditioning, she crossed her legs provocatively, pressing the calf of one against the knee of the other to make it look even more curvaceous. Although he had obviously noticed her silent invitation he still didn't make his play. Perhaps if she finished this drink in a hurry he would bring over another and join her. If he didn't, she could ask the bartender to send him a drink in repayment of his favor. With this attractive male so near and yet so far her anxiety for sex was rapidly turning into desperation. She belted down the copious martini. A full minute passed and still there was no action. She was just on the verge of signaling the bartender and buying him a drink when a well-dressed matron with graying hair swept into the bar. The man who had been her white hope arose and walked to meet her. She was obviously his wife and they took a table at the far end of the room.
Feeling utterly rejected, Grace caught the bartender's attention and ordered another martini for herself.
An hour later she decided to throw in the sponge and admit that she had struck out. Shit, had she reached a point in life at which she couldn't even give it away? She paid her bar tab and made her way out with as much dignity as she could muster. Crossing the wide marble expanse of Grand Central she entered the Lexington Avenue arcade, glanced in the windows of the overpriced shops and descended the concrete stairs into the steam bath atmosphere of the I.R.T. subway.
Grace had never liked living in Queens, but every time she got on or off the subway at Grand Central she detested it. Whoever had designed the subway system had obviously hated all Queens residents because he had arranged for them to negotiate an extra flight of stairs that Brooklyn and Bronx people didn't have to contend with. To be sure, there was an elevator, but with a body like hers there was always some big lug who wanted to cop a feel and rubbed up against her tits or ass. God knows she had to put up with enough of that shit on the subway train itself without getting more in the station.
She sardined her way into the packed car with someone shoving her from behind and managing to get in where there was no space left. The doors slid closed and the train raced into the tunnel beneath the East River. All winter that tunnel was full of icy drafts but, for some reason she could never fathom, in the muggy summer heat there was never a breath of air in it. The whirring ceiling fans blasted the hot damp air against her, causing her to perspire from every pore in her body. The Sahara atmosphere, coming as it did on top of the four large martinis, made her head swim. At first she was afraid she was going to faint and chuckled at the thought that it really didn't matter since she was packed so tightly between the other passengers that she couldn't fall down if she tried. When that thought had passed she realized that she was really quite drunk. The condition was not improved by the heavy odor of body sweat and garlic breath that permeated the crowded car. At long last the train arrived at Queens Plaza and most of the mob got off. She was carried out the door with the tide and managed to get back in just before the door slid closed like a rubber-bladed guillotine. Gratefully she staggered to a seat and rested as the train emerged from the tunnel and the subway became an elevated railroad that stretched across the length of the Borough of Queens like a noisy boa constrictor. At least now the motion of the train's travel produced a pseudo-breeze. Grace realized that her thin silk dress was stuck to her body in a condom-like fit. She could feel the eyes of the men in the car. With each stop the passengers thinned out a bit more. She went to the end of the line where she always left her car in a public parking lot. Manhattan traffic frightened her and the cost of parking was prohibitive for her limited budget.
As the train rattled and swayed its way toward the end of the line Grace became aware of the young man across the aisle. He was ogling her full luscious breasts as if the thin fabric wasn't even there. She could not help but notice the bulge in the front of his thin summer slacks. He was a well-hung young chap and re minded her a little of Frankie. The mere thought of her nephew made her horny all over again. This boy was about Frankie's age, though not as tall. She wondered if he was still a virgin. If so, perhaps she could alter that status pretty quickly. Goddamn, if she didn't get some cock soon she'd go fruity. She determined to pick up the young boy and seduce him. In order to get him in a really receptive frame of mind she unstuck her skirt from her sweaty thighs and managed to hike it up, as though unmindful of the fact that she was sans panties. She watched his eyes bulge as they dropped from her tits to that dark, hairy patch that was now open to his amazed gaze. She saw him gulp once or twice and was fascinated at the way the bulge in his pants grew. She wondered if he had ever seen a cunt before and if he wanted what he was staring at as much as she needed what she was staring at. In her mind she rehearsed just what she would say to him when she staggered across the aisle and sat beside him. Finally she had it down pat. It had to work. Surely no young boy with hot pants could resist the temptation of a free fuck. She made a move to get up as the train stopped in the next station. In her present condition it would be easier to navigate across the aisle while the train was stopped. Her movement made him look up. He spotted the station sign and dashed out the door just as it was slamming shut. She had almost made him pass his station. She couldn't even get out of the car to follow him. The train ground into motion as, through the window, she watched a potential sex partner walk out of her life. Shithouse mouse! This just wasn't her day.
by the time she reached her car in the lot the wave of intoxication that had engulfed her on the ride home ebbed away and she experienced a sinking spell. She drove very carefully the four miles from the station to her house. She knew she had something to drink there and felt that she needed it. How many times could a girl come out a loser in just one day? She remembered Adlai Stevenson's words after losing his second bid for the Presidency: "I'm too old to cry, and it hurts too much when I laugh." Going directly to the little bar in the living room she poured herself four fingers of sour mash tranquilizer.
Once she had downed this she had to get out of those sticky clothes. After a long, cool shower she toweled well and reached for the robe on the back of the bathroom door. She laughed at her own involuntary act. What the hell did she need a robe for? She was all too well aware of the fact that she was alone in the house. She walked back to the bar in the nude, pausing only long enough to remove a tray of ice cubes from the refrigerator. She poured herself a hefty hooker over the rocks and stood by the little bar sipping it. She had lived so long with the mirrored wall adjoining the bar that she never noticed herself in it any more. Now she was a little shocked to catch sight of a naked woman drinking at her bar. She lifted her glass in a silent toast to her reflection.
When she finished the drink she set the glass on the bar and moved over for a closer inspection of the nude in the mirror. She appraised each feature separately. The large full breasts were perfectly shaped and without a trace of droop. The nipples and areolas were rosy pink, not the nasty purplish brown of her sister's.
Turning and looking over her shoulder she examined her buttocks. They were full and firm. No flab in that area yet. Her tummy was flat and smooth and her legs were well-formed. There was no hint of a double chin and her face was as un-lined and beautiful as it had been fifteen years ago. She was in pretty damn good shape for a thirty-two-year-old broad. The only fault she could find was that perhaps she was inclined to be too hairy ... down there. Several times she had been tempted to shave an inch or more off of the top side of the triangle but on each occasion her lover at the time had talked her out of it, each explaining that he preferred a heavy beard on the clam.
Satisfied that she had passed her own close scrutiny with flying colors, she returned to the bar and poured another drink, taking it back to the mirror with her. She frankly admired her own mirror image and bolstered her bruised ego by telling herself: "Goddamn, baby, if I were a man I'd think you were quite a piece of fluff and I'd be tickled shitless to screw you until your snatch was sore."
Grace realized that she was beginning to get a little tight again and that she had to be in good shape to see Sally and Harry off later that night. Perhaps a few hours' sleep would be in order before driving to the airport with her little bon voyage gift. She beat a slightly unsteady retreat to the bedroom, turned down the bed, set the alarm for nine o'clock and slid between the sheets. As soon as she closed her eyes that brief moment of embrace with Frankie flashed across her mind. She pictured again the feel of his stiffening cock as she had pressed her pubic mound tight up against it as she kissed him and treated him to the feel of her big soft tits against his chest. To enhance the mental image to which she now clung so desperately she pressed her hand against her hairy mound of Venus and tried to pretend that it was his sex touching her there.
That young nephew of hers had a lovely big prick. She ought to know. All too vividly she recalled that night in Sally and Harry's apartment. She had just had the final big fight with Dick and had gone running to her sister's for sanctuary. It had been a dreadfully hot night and she was sleeping in the nude since she had run out of the house without a thing but the clothes on her back. Around midnight she had gone to the bathroom. As she passed Frankie's open door she had the distinct feeling that he was watching her. On the way back she went more slowly, half facing his open doorway to give him a real good view. All her life nervousness and upset had made her have to tinkle frequently. Surely that night she had plenty to be nervous and upset about, so before long she had to go to the bathroom again. On her way back to bed she heard the boy groaning in his sleep. She went in to see if he was all right, unmindful of her nakedness. In the dim light from the hallway she saw that he had kicked off the sheet and was sleeping flat on his back. He had a huge erection and was stroking it as he slept.
Grace knew then that he had indeed seen her earlier and that she was the cause of his burgeoning hard-on. Since she had caused it she felt that she should relieve it. Ever so gently she removed his hand from his swollen cock and replaced it with her own. It was unbelievably hard and hot to her touch. She began masturbating-him gently with one hand as she cupped his firm young balls with the other. He moaned with pleasure but did not awaken, even when she felt his stiff prick swell and spew forth jet after jet of pure youthful semen. The sight of his spurting jism made her toss all caution to the winds and she bent over and slid her mouth down over the trembling glans, causing the boy to gush forth one final blast of sweet male nectar, the flavor of which she savored for hours, safely back in her room.
Reliving the experience now while she was half drunk and half asleep, Grace was only vaguely aware that her hand had slipped into the soft warm moist enclosure of her vulva and that her slippery fingers were now caressing and massaging her stiffly erected clitoris until at last she shuddered as wave after wave of the multiple orgasm swept through her seething loins. Just a split second before she fell into an alcohol and sex induced sleep she muttered, almost incoherently: "Ohhhh, Frankie boy ... that was lovely. You really know how to take care of your old Aunt Grace, don't you, my precious little nephew?"
CHAPTER THREE
After they had seen Frankie safely off to camp Sally and Harry walked briskly up the ramp and emerged at Forty-second Street and Vanderbilt Avenue. Sally hoped she could get rid of Harry and have a few hours to herself. She had several rather personal things to do. There was one appointment, especially, where she sure as hell didn't want him tagging along.
"Harry, dear, if this is to be a second honeymoon, there are certain rather intimate, feminine items that the bride must obtain and it isn't proper for the groom to shop for them with her. We will be alone together for the next sixty-three days and nights. Right now I have certain girl-type shopping to do that would bore you to death. Besides, I have to pick up my surprise gift for you and it wouldn't be any surprise if you saw me buy it. Why don't you trot along like a nice boy and go back to your beloved office, or somewhere, and I'll see you at home a little after six."
"Sounds like you have a tryst with some secret lover and want to get rid of me. I should have you followed, but since you" mention it I don't think it would hurt to have one final check over at the office, so as you hint so broadly, I'll get lost. Far be it from me to behave like a jealous husband."
"Far be it from you, indeed," Sally muttered to herself. She gave him a perfunctory peck on the cheek and was alone and free at last. There were so few hours left.
She watched as Harry walked over to Madison and turned left to go down to his office. Finally spotting an empty cab she rode up Fifth Avenue to Mark Cross. At the custom order desk she picked up the two matching passport cases, each personalized with replicas of their signatures cut from solid 14-karat gold and mounted on the covers, along with the gold corners. They had been outrageously expensive but it was her way of saying "thanks" to Harry for the grand tour that lay ahead of them. Then she picked up a third small gift-wrapped package containing an alligator wallet with gold trimmings but with a totally different signature affixed. It had cost more than both of the passport cases combined.
Outside the store Sally glanced at her watch as the doorman blew his shrill whistle at passing cabs until an empty one pulled over to the curb. All of her private and feminine shopping had been completed days ago and the packages with which she would appear at home, laden down, after six were safely in the closet of a friend's apartment. Thanks to careful planning she now had three hours in which they could be alone together for the last time before her trip with Harry. She gave the driver the address of a small, moderately expensive apartment house on West Seventy-second.
As they cut through Central Park she thought of her misspent life with Harry. She didn't love him, of course, hadn't in years. Their marriage had been one of social and business expediency. Harry had been an ambitious social climber, anxious to meet and make clients of some of the "better people," while her fine old family had fallen upon bad times. He was a frightful bore, concerned with little more than his office and practice. She had started to divorce him a year after they were married but had stopped the proceedings when she discovered that she was pregnant with Frankie. That boy was all that had held their marriage together all these years.
Sally often felt guilty that her son received very little affection in their loveless home. For years now Harry had used talk of this grand tour as a means of maintaining a conversational interest point in their marriage. In his forty-two years of dull existence Harry had never been out of the United States while Sally had been around the world three times before her father went broke in a disastrous business venture. While Harry gave great lip service to the cultural benefits and his fascination with seeing the Old World and its artistic and architectural marvels, she knew that his only real interest was in meeting affluent fellow tourists whom he could cultivate as potential clients upon their return to New York. As far as she was concerned this sixty-three-day air cruise promised to be a crashing bore just as everything else in their marriage had always been. She had enough knowledge of basic human psychology to realize that a change in background and locale seldom engentlers a change in basic personality.
The cab pulled to the curb in front of the Seventy-second Street address and Sally got a familiar greeting from the doorman and then went through the lobby and was greeted again by the elevator man. It was not necessary for her to announce the floor. In front of apartment 302 she paused and rang the doorbell four times. After what seemed like an interminable delay, the door was opened by a thin, obviously effeminate young man with bleached blond hair. He was dressed in a black velvet jump suit with a dual strand of pure white pearls around his neck. His face showed surprise at seeing her.
"Dahling, I hadn't expected you for another hour. I'm so happy to see that you escaped from 'Horrid Harry.' Pray come in."
Sally walked past him into the living room of the apartment on which she had been paying the rent for the past four years. Her disappointment was obvious when she discovered that they were not alone in their love nest. A young man dressed in leopard leotards rec-lined languidly on one of the twin down-cushioned couches.
"My deah, I'd like you to meet Brucie. He is a completely lost soul in the big city and has agreed to move in and keep me out of trouble while you, dear mommie, are off on your grand tour with that horrible Harry."
Sally had, of course, been aware of Sebastian's homosexual tendencies since they had first met at that charity bazaar almost five years ago. He was one of those professionally charming young men who made a career of catering to sexually starved older women. She had realized, from the very first, that her competition for his sexual attentions was masculme rather than feminine. She remembered their first big fight, at the end of which she had agreed to pay his rent and give him a hundred-dollar-a-week allowance. In the middle of their erotic word battle she had screamed at him: "I can give you everything that those faggot cocksuckers can, and then some, because I'm a real woman."
He had proven to be a well-trained male whore and had given her all of the sexual attention which she had needed and she had happily paid the tab. She had never forgotten the male competition for his sexual attentions but, up un til tonight, she had never faced the problem head-on. Now, in the last few precious stolen hours before her dull trip with Harry, she needed his physical favors desperately and yet that Brucie kept looking at her with a supercilious expression.
Sally had looked forward to this meeting as the last decent piece of ass she'd get in the next two months. Now, sitting in the love nest which she had bought and paid for, she looked over at the sniveling little queer on the couch across from her and realized that while she was away she would be financing this little creep to share Sebastian's bed and cock. All at once she felt cheap and dirty and wanted desperately to throw up.
At this point, Sebastian, her male whore, returned to the living room, all smiles and full of sweetness and light. Exuding his professional charm he looked at the young boy on the other couch and announced: "Brucie, why don't you go into the other room and leave us alone while I take care of dear 'mommie' here?"
Sally realized that she was old enough to be his mother, but having her nose rubbed in it in front of this little creep made her blood boil. She arose from the couch and marched to the closet from which she extracted the packages that were to be her cover with Harry. Suddenly she remembered her present for Sebastian. Removing it from her purse, she tossed it at his face as she screamed like a fishwife: "Here, you little queer cocksucker, take your gift. I hadn't intended to present it this way but it's no use to anyone else. Take it and perhaps your beloved Brucie can figure a way to keep it filled with rent and food money, because I'm cutting you off as of right now."
Picking up her packages and what was left of her pride, she marched to the door and slammed it on her paid lover for the last time. In the lobby she called for the manager and informed him that she was no longer responsible for the rent. Then she had the doorman get her a cab.
Harry walked down Madison Avenue to Thirty-eighth Street and into the lobby of his office building. On the twenty-eighth floor he shoved his way through the double glass doors which were emblazoned with the name: Powers and Robinson-Attorneys at Law. With a brief nod to the receptionist, he made his way to his own private suite of offices.
Maria Mobray, his private secretary for the past ten years, greeted him with a knowing look.
"How'd you get away from her this last day in town?" she asked.
"Sally claimed she had some very personal shopping to do, so I let her do it alone," he replied.
"Yeah, I'll bet you did," she muttered knowingly.
"Any last-minute details to take care of before I leave?" he demanded in what he hoped was a very business-like tone.
"Yes, Mr. Boss Man, your insurance agent, Jack Itskowitz, brought over that large brown envelope on your desk."
Harry ripped open the envelope, knowing full well what it contained. From it he extracted travel accident policies on both his life and Sally's. His son, Frankie, was named as the beneficiary, with his sister-in-law, Grace, named as the guardian of the minor boy's estate. Harry sealed these carefully into a large envelope and instructed Maria to deliver it to his partner, Bill Robinson, just in case.
There was a third policy in the envelope, and he slipped this into his inside coat pocket.
"Anything else pressing?" he asked his secretary.
"Nothing that can't wait ... at least, on paper, that is," she replied.
"Very well, Miss Mobray, why don't you take the rest of the day off from the office?" he said as he fixed her with a special look.
"Thank you, sir. I'll leave now," she replied. Then, with a grin, she added: "Same place?"
"Same place," he replied, and left his desk and the office that meant so much to him.
Fifteen minutes later, this perfect secretary walked into the Whaler Bar of the New Weston Hotel and joined her boss at the bar. Without being told he ordered the Scotch sour that he knew so well was her favorite drink. For several minutes they drank silently together, and then his hand sought hers. Into it he pressed the key to the room for which he had registered just moments before she arrived. Dutifully she finished her drink, said an obvious "good night," and then left through the door leading to the hotel lobby. Harry spent the next five minutes dawdling over the remains of his drink, then paid the bartender and left an extremely generous tip. After all, it would be over two months before he would see him again. He left by the street entrance and walked around the corner and into the lobby of the hotel. Entering the elevator, he called for the twelfth floor. The door to room 1206 was unlocked, as he knew it would be. He entered the room and saw Maria, naked, awaiting him.
Even after all these years, the sight of her body thrilled him. He undressed quietly and led her to the big bed. She was so different from Sally ... so vibrant ... so alive ... so real. He rolled into bed beside her and mounted her quickly. As always, in these past years, the feel of her bare woman hood excited him to instant erection. He sank into the warm, moist recess of her womanhood like a man caught in a patch of quicksand. Her legs entwined his buttocks like snakes escaping from Medusa's headdress. Within a brief span of moments he spewed forth into her feminine cavity the ultimate proof of his manhood.
Much later, he retrieved his coat. From the inside pocket he extracted the third insurance policy from agent Jack Itzkowitz. Maria was dressing now, her olive skin glowing from the loving she had just received.
"My dear, I didn't think we should leave this with Bob Robinson, along with the others. While I surely don't plan on getting killed on this trip, I believe in preparing for every eventuality. This accident policy on my life names you as beneficiary. In case I don't come back to take care of you, it will."
The young secretary fell to her knees before her employer and threw her arms around his buttocks, pulling him close. He could feel her face close against his sex. It was a new sensation, and Harry was a bit surprised to notice that he was getting a new hard-on.
"How can I ever thank you?" Maria mumbled into his crotch. It was as though she were speaking directly to his now semi-erect cock, rather than to its owner.
"You'll think of something," he suggested as he ran his fingers through the young girl's hair and rubbed his swollen prick back and forth across her face. He wasn't sure that she understood. They had never done it that way. To help her get the message he added, "As long as you're down there, why don't you do a friend a favor?"
"You mean...?" She looked up at him, an expression close to panic in her eyes.
"Yes, Maria. I mean I want you to suck my cock." Harry was reveling in the situation. The role of dominant, sexually demanding male was a new one to him, and he planned to play it to the hilt.
"But I don't know how. I mean, I never have. I don't know if I can do it," she stammered hopelessly. Her olive skin glowed now with a crimson flush. What on earth had possessed her to go through the corny histrionics of kneeling at his feet to thank him?
"Well, you'll never know until you try, will you?" he coaxed. Then added, "Seems to me that for fifty grand you ought to be able to give it one hell of a try."
Maria pulled back slightly. Slowly she unzipped his fly, reached in, and withdrew his now erect cock and gently lifted out his dangling balls. Opening her mouth wide she pressed forward and slipped her cool moist lips over the hot head of his swollen prick. Little by little she urged her lips forward, enclosing more and more of his hot flesh in her mouth. She hoped that she could keep from gagging.
"Use your tongue. Keep licking at that lower vein while you go up and down on it," he instructed.
She did as she was told, just as she always had since he first asked her for sex when they were working late in the office that night several years ago. Above all, Maria was a realist. She had never finished high school and after working a garment factory had taken a night school secretarial course. While Harry had been a demanding employer, in every way, he had rewarded her acceptance of his terms generously. She could only hope that it wouldn't take too long to make him come. She tried not to think about that moment' of truth when he would shoot his load inside her mouth. She felt him grasp her head and pull it closer as he forced his big cock down past her palate and into her throat. She closed her eyes, hoping that blotting out the sight would blot out the realization of what she was being forced to do. She felt like an ostrich hiding from danger by burying its head in the sand.
"Keep your tongue working on it!" he demanded as he increased the pressure on the back of her head and forced his way into her mouth and throat until her lips and nose were tickled by his stiff pubic hairs.
Oh, my God, I'm going to throw up! Maria thought. She knew that he'd kill her if she got vomit all over his trousers. She gulped and swallowed hard and fast to keep the bile down.
"That's great. Keep that up. It feels real wild," Harry encouraged her, not realizing or caring that the rapid throat constrictions were not being performed strictly for his benefit.
Maria kept swallowing harder and faster. She could taste the bile now. Maybe it was fortunate that the head of his cock was w-edged deep in her throat as tight as a cork in the neck of a bottle. Suddenly it got even tighter as he tugged violently on the back of her head. If she had resisted she was sure her neck would have broken. Now he forced the last inch of his huge prick past her lips and they were pressed to the very base of that thick rod where it joined his stomach. She felt the head swell and tremble deep in her throat as she swallowed frantically now to keep his come and her nausea down. At least she was grateful that he had ejaculated so far beyond her palate that she did not taste the vile fluids he had insisted that sheingest. Her throat was plugged less tightly now as his spent prick shrank. She was forced to keep swallowing hard to keep from vomiting. Her misery seemed to give him pleasure because he kept his now rapidly shrinking rod in her mouth until it became too small and plopped out of her trembling lips.
"My dear, I must say that you appear to have all the makings of an excellent cocksucker. That swallowing trick was a great innovation. When I get back from this trip we'll have to work on this approach more often."
"Thank you." She managed to sound demure, even though she wanted to tear into him like a wildcat. "You run along, if you like, Harry. I want to fix my hair a bit and besides we can't be seen leaving together. And, oh yes, have a wonderful, wonderful trip."
Another moment and he was gone.
Harry felt very happy and proud of himself as he walked up Madison Avenue. It was a nice evening and he would just walk up to Fifty-Seventh and the two blocks east to the apartment. Nothing bolstered a man's ego more than making a woman who didn't want to suck his cock. That little raven-haired Maria had given pretty good head for a neophyte blow artist. He'd have to get a lot more of that when he got back. What would really be fun, he mused, would be to have her go down on him some night at the office while he talked on the phone to his dead-assed wife. Yeah, he'd have to set that up.
Well, if he made the contacts he hoped to on this trip he could double his practice. Then he could well afford to divorce Sally and dump that kid along with her. He didn't need her and her precious family connections any more and, Christ knows, he had never needed that brat. But until that happy day arrived, he'd have to keep up appearances. He stopped in a flower shop on Fifty-seventh and ordered a travel corsage of three orchids. While the florist was preparing and boxing it he wrote out a card:
To my first and only bride ... On our second honeymoon.
H.
Women always melted at that kind of bullshit, he thought.
Sally was sitting on the couch surrounded by packages from drug stores and women's shops. She seemed to be in a daze. Although she seldom had a drink before he got home, there was a half-empty martini glass on the cocktail table. Judging from the number of wet rings on the polished leather top, Harry estimated that it must be her third or forth. He dropped the florist's box in her lap and went to make himself a drink. When he returned she seemed to have snapped out of it. She had pinned on the flowers and was smiling and chatty.
"What's the problem?" he asked, indicating the glass and evidence of its predecessors. "Getting cold feet about flying the ocean?"
"No, it's just that I'll miss that boy terribly, I guess," she said, without meaning to.
"We both will, but he'll be having fun and so will we," Harry replied cheerfully, thinking that she was referring to Frankie. He could not understand why the simple remark made her burst into tears, but then she did that so frequently lately that he didn't really pay much attention to it.
Sally, moved by his flowers, gave him his passport case. After another few drinks, during which time he helped her cram the drugstore purchases into her already full travel cases, Harry noticed that Sally seemed to display an attitude of great loss. Again, he attributed this to Frankie. Later, they left the apartment and took a cab up to Armando's for dinner. Even though Harry turned on all of his professional charm, Sally seemed completely unimpressed and preoccupied. Again, he felt that this was because of his having insisted on shipping Frankie off to summer camp, but every time he broached the subject she shut him off cold.
After dinner they grabbed a cab back to the apartment. A half-hour later they had assembled their gear in front of the building and the doorman got them a cab to Kennedy Airport. On the forty-minute drive out to Long Island, Sally was strangely silent, and Harry had a weird feeling that he was leaving a life to which he could never return.
Grace was waiting for them at the airline check-in counter, looking more sexually desirable than ever. Harry found himself wishing that his well-hung sister-in-law was to be his traveling companion on this great second honeymoon world-girdling flight instead of his relatively flat-chested and sexually uninterested wife. Under the circumstances all he could do was to buy them both a drink in the Flight Room until their loading time arrived.
Later, Grace stood before the big plate-glass window and watched the chartered jet take off and saw the blinking navigation lights disappear in the black skies out over the Atlantic. Then she drove home, feeling very much alone and deserted. Perhaps, if she had a couple of drinks before going to bed, she might get lucky and have another wet dream about her nephew.
CHAPTER FOUR
Frankie was firmly convinced that dear old Camp Mohawk had the slowest calendar in the North. As he went through day after day, week after week of the agonizing slow-motion treadmill existence he wondered why his parents hadn't arranged to have him spend the summer at Devil's Island. It would have been cheaper and just about as enjoyable. That element of cost should have occurred to his cheap father. His mother wouldn't have given it much thought ... she never gave anything much thought.
The younger boys began to get on his nerves. He had nothing in common with them and they were unbelievably juvenile. Even back in New York he was pretty much of a loner, never joining clubs or running around with a whole crowd of fellows. Now he felt as though he was serving a long sentence in a kindergarten playground. Whenever possible he would take a canoe and go out on the lake alone, just to get a little peace and quiet and escape from the constant babble of high-pitched voices.
Mail call was the worst time of all. Several days each week there would be a postcard from his folks in some foreign city. The younger kids all screamed for the stamps for their collections. Frankie gave away whole bunches of postcards. There was never anything very personal on them, anyway. Not once did his mother, who wrote all the cards, say that she missed him or wished he were along. There was never a letter; just the cards. Their family life never had been very long on sentimentality.
One of the counselors was restoring an old Ford Model A roadster and let Frankie help him. In the city he had never had a bicycle, or even a pair of roller skates. Now he got wheel fever. He wanted a car so bad he could taste it, and automobiles alternated with Aunt Grace as the principle subject of his dreams. He knew that his parents would never let him have a car; they didn't even have one. Perhaps he could get a job in a garage and save enough to buy some old clunker while he learned more about mechanics. Maybe Aunt Grace would let him keep it out at her house and he could go out weekends and work on the car, and hopefully Aunt Grace. As long as he was going to daydream he might as well let his fantasizing go all the way.
Every night as the bugler blew taps, a little more expertly now, Frankie would sneak a handkerchief into his pajama pants. On the nights that he was lucky enough to have a wet dream about Aunt Grace, he would carefully carry the handkerchief in his pocket until he went canoing, then wash it in the lake. He knew that the trained eyes in the camp laundry could readily discern the difference between sex starch and snot. If they discovered this secret semen they might put saltpeter or something in his food to negate his normal young sex drives. He surely didn't want that to happen. Those dreams of Grace were all that kept him going through this endless summer. There were some girls his own age at school that some of the guys said were pretty sexually permissive, but somehow they didn't appeal to him. As far as he was concerned, at least for the present phase of life, sex meant Grace, and Grace meant sex. Deep down inside he knew that making a fantasy mistress out of his older aunt was nothing more than an impossible dream; but it was his dream and he treasured and nurtured it.
Most of July he whiled away his days helping Mr. Stanton work on the Ford. They had begun by removing all of the plated parts and for weeks now Frankie had hand-sanded the rusted old fenders and body until he got down to smooth bare metal. He was fascinated to watch Mr. Stanton rebuild the really cancerous-looking rusted-out areas with fiberglass and resin. Once this had set and hardened there was still more sanding. Each afternoon, whether a panel was finished or not, they carefully painted it with spray cans of hot rod primer to prevent the raw metal from rusting in the evening dew. The flat charcoal-gray finish slowly spread over more and more of the car's body, serving as a progress chart for their efforts. By the end of July the sanding and priming was complete and the stripped-down hulk was loaded onto a flatbed truck and taken into a garage in town where the wheels would be sandblasted and painted red while the body was professionally repainted in what Mr. Stanton called "Henry Ford's basic black."
During the week that the body was receiving its new finish and being hand-striped by a local artist, Frankie helped Mr. Stanton tear down and rebuild the engine, which had been removed earlier. In his sheltered and sterile life in the New York apartment, Frankie had never even had a hobby. His father had always put him down and given him a feeling of ineptness and insecurity in everything he'd ever wanted to do. Now he reveled in the satisfying excitement of doing something with his own hands. In his mind he was young Henry Ford building his first car, step by step. His grease-stained hands and black-encrusted nails were like a badge of honor and he almost hated to clean them at the end of each day. Mr. Stanton was an expert mechanic and had a patient way of teaching him all of the fundamentals of the simple four-cylinder engine. Frankie had never been able to make up his mind to the pursuit of any vocation or profession. By the end of this week he was firmly dedicated to becoming an auto mechanic. Perhaps someday he might even be able to have his own garage specializing in the restoration of antique and classic cars. Inwardly, he knew that his father would try to shoot him down on this idea, feeling that it was beneath his stuffy dignity to have a son who was a mechanic, but for the first time in his life he was determined to stand up and fight for what he wanted and believed in. He loved the feeling of personal accomplishment that came from making new ones out of old ones.
Once the engine was rebuilt, he carefully sanded and hand-painted the block, head and manifolds. The first weekend in August they remounted the rebuilt engine in the refinished body. The chrome parts had not come back from the plating shop yet but the car ran and Mr. Stanton rewarded Frankie for his labors by teaching him to drive the Model A around the campgrounds.
The following Wednesday Frankie paddled a canoe far out onto the lake. He enjoyed just drifting and daydreaming there, away from all the screaming kids. It suddenly occurred to him that his mind had been so filled with the old Ford that he hadn't had a wet dream about his aunt for over a week now. The thought made him feel strangely guilty. He tried to remember the feel of her lips and tits as she had given him that wondrous good-bye kiss at the station. The erotic memory produced an almost instant hard-on. Since there was complete privacy 'way out here in the middle of the lake, he took out his burning, swollen cock and began to stroke it in a manner that was at the same time arousing and soothing. He hadn't had an opportunity to jerk off since that time in the men's room on the train. Even the toilets here at camp were open and there seemed no place to get away from the swarm of younger boys that were everywhere like a herd of turtles. Now he pounded the bishop mercilessly while thinking of Aunt Grace.
Suddenly he realized that he had no handkerchief. It wouldn't do to return with pecker tracks on his shorts. He got carefully to his knees and knelt sideways so that his stiff cock was over the side of the canoe as he brought the jack off into its final phase. He always liked to watch himself come. Now, as he stared at the bulging, straining knob of his prick he saw the big load of jism shoot out and form a heavy white floating island of semen several feet from the side of the canoe. It appeared pearly and iridescent against the dark murky water as the bright sunlight reflected from it. As he watched, a huge bass shot to the surface of the lake and gulped down the little white island of come. He wondered if the fish realized what it had swallowed. If so, he hoped that it was, as least, a female fish.
He was startled to hear his name called out across the lake on the big amplifier. He almost upset the canoe. Jesus, suppose they had been watching him through binoculars.
"Frankie Powers, report to the camp director's office-on the double!" The message was repeated several times. Surely he had been observed and was about to get lectured and punished for masturbating.
He paddled the canoe back to the dock with quick, nervous strokes, as soon as he had rearranged his clothing and checked his shorts. He tried to think of some excuse. He wondered if the camp would write and report this incident to his parents.
Mr. Stanton was waiting on the dock. He didn't say anything but escorted Frankie to the director's cabin. Mr. Johnston looked very grim and forbidding indeed. Frankie was aware that Mr. Stanton did not leave the office but stood behind him and that Mrs. Steele, the camp's nurse and one-woman medical department, was present. Apparently he was going to get the full treatment. He steeled himself for the opening blast. When Mr. Johnston spoke, his announcement came to Frankie more as a relief than a shock.
"Powers, I have just received some very upsetting information."
"Oh boy, here it comes!" Frankie thought, swallowing and staring at his sneakers.
"I just got a long-distance phone call from Mr. Robinson, your father's business partner. He has just learned that the chartered jet plane in which your parents are traveling is overdue and presumed down somewhere in the Pacific on the flight from Melbourne, Australia, to Tokyo, Japan. The authorities report that there has been no radio contact from the aircraft for six hours and that the fuel supply would have been exhausted four hours ago. Based upon this information they have estimated its probable area of descent. A full-scale air-sea rescue operation has been launched. The plane carried ample life rafts although no signals have been received from their automatic transmitters. Mr. Robinson wanted me to tell you that the situation is far from hopeless. He asked that I remind you of Eddie Rickenbacker and a group of passengers who survived a similar Pacific air ditching some years ago. The Navy has joined in the search and many prayers go with them. Do you understand the situation, my boy?"
"Yes, sir, I understand. I am sure that everything will work out for the best," Frankie stammered. He hoped that the camp personnel did not fathom the true meaning of his statement.
"Mr. Robinson said that he was attempting to reach your aunt." The nervous director checked himself just as he was about to mention her as his "next of kin." After clearing his throat, he continued: "Mr. Robinson said that he would leave it up to your aunt whether you should remain here or return to New York."
"Thank you, sir. I understand. If you don't mind, I would like to return to my tent and just be alone for a while."
"Frankie, would you like me to give you a tranquilizer?" Mrs. Steele asked.
"No, ma'am, I'll be all right. I just want to be alone now," he said.
"We understand, son," Mr. Johnston mumbled. He loved boys and the camp life, but at times like this he wished he ran a kennel in stead. "If I hear anything further from either Mr. Robinson or your aunt, I'll call for you."
Frankie sat on the edge of his bunk and stared out at the huge pines and the shimmer of the sun on the lake. As he watched, a large fished jumped in the lake. He wondered if it was the same one that had eaten his come and if it was returning to the surface for more of the starchy substance. The only emotion he felt now was guilt. The guilt was brought on by the fact that he didn't feel any of the more normal emotions at such a time. Also he was ashamed of the fact that, deep down inside, he could not suppress a silent prayer that his parents would never return. They had been pretty piss-poor parents anyway. He didn't want for them to be dead, but privately he hoped that they and the other passengers might have made it to some uncharted Pacific island to live out their years like the Swiss Family Robinson that he had once read about.
Surely there was no cause to worry about what would happen to him. He wasn't like a complete orphan. Aunt Grace was the only family he had now and he would simply move in with her. He only had one more year of high school and could take an after-school job to help with expenses. Once he graduated he could get a full-time job at a garage and pay his own way. Inwardly he felt a deep sense of excitement and anticipation at the thought of living with Grace.
An hour later Mr. Stanton came to his tent. Frankie knew that this man was the best friend he had ever made. He hoped that he would be able to see him after this experience was all over.
"I thought that maybe if we went out and drove the Model A around a bit it might take your mind off things," the counselor suggested.
"Yes, I think I'd like that," Frankie said.
From then until dusk fell, Mr. Stanton let Frankie drive the forty-two-year-old car around the campgrounds and up and down the unpatroled back roads nearby. By the time they got back, just before evening mess call, the boy's mind was so filled with the car that he had all but forgotten his family problems.
Shortly after dinner he was summoned to the director's cabin. His aunt was on the phone and Frankie actually spoke to her across the seemingly endless miles that separated them.
"Oh, Frankie, I just don't know what to say. I guess that there's really nothing that anyone can say. I've talked to Mr. Robinson twice today. We both agree that it is best that you come back to New York and stay with me while we await developments."
All Frankie heard was the "stay with me" part. He wondered if it was his imagination that his dear aunt's voice seemed to express little concern other than for him. Just hearing her voice across the miles almost gave him a hard-on. He hoped that it didn't show.
In the balance of the call it was agreed that he would take the late morning train and that Grace would meet him at Grand Central Station at a little after six in the evening. He knew that these next twenty-four hours would be the slowest in his life. He hated to break the connection but realized that he must maintain appearances in front of the camp people. His heart almost did flip-flops when he heard his sexy aunt's voice say, just before she hung up: "I can hardly wait to see you, darling."
After she had spoken again to Mr. Johnston and all of the arrangements for his return to the city were consummated, Frankie was dismissed. Even though it was long before taps, he went to his tent, donned his pajamas and crawled into the camp bunk for the last time. He was especially careful at inserting the handkerchief beneath the drawstring of his pajama pants tonight. He was sure that it would be needed, and, as it turned out, it was indeed, twice that night.
The following morning Frankie arose with the rest of the campers. He seemed preoccupied. Most of the camp personnel and the younger boys left him alone, thinking that he was worrying about his parents, lost somewhere in the vast stretches of the Pacific, not knowing if they were dead or alive. None of them realized that his preoccupation was entirely with Aunt Grace, whom he knew was very much alive.
After breakfast he got his gear all neatly packed in his camp trunk and then walked up to where Mr. Stanton kept the classic Ford. He patted the car as though it were a beloved animal that had befriended him during this dreadful summer. Some day, he vowed, he would restore a similar car. He didn't know quite how he'd do it without Mr. Stanton's guidance, but he would. Suddenly the young counselor who had befriended him arrived and they took a final drive in the old Model A. Frankie tried to express his gratitude for having been a part of this restoration process. The boy and the man exchanged addresses. He discovered for the first time that Mr. Stanton's first name was Sheridan and that he lived in Huntington, Long Island, not too far from where he would reside with Aunt Grace. They promised to keep in touch.
Finally, he and his camp trunk were loaded into the old station wagon that was the camp's main contact with the outside world, and he was driven to the railroad station.
The long, dull train ride back to New York seemed to drag on forever. Frankie tried to sleep and dream of what his life ahead with Aunt Grace would be like, but the prospects were so exhilarating that sleep defied him.
Early autumn dusk had fallen upon Manhattan when the train plunged into the dark tunnel that burrowed beneath Park Avenue to emerge into Grand Central. He was the first passenger off his coach and almost ran up the block-long concrete ramp that led to Gate 19. Aunt Grace was there in the huge marble rotunda, looking a little nervous, but as sexy as ever. Frankie felt her lips, her breasts, and even the warm pubic mound as they melted into each other's arms. The warmth of her greeting made him realize that all of his wet dreams were, indeed, coming true.
The hour-long cab ride out to her lovely home on the fringes of Queens was strangely quiet. Both of them had a lot to say to each other, but seemed suddenly struck dumb. Now and again she would embrace him. He was aware of the warmth and softness of her body and the unmistakable aroma of alcohol on her breath. It was obvious to the youth that their concern was simply for each other, not for his parents in the vast Pacific. At long last the cab pulled up in front of her comfortable suburban home. The driver wrestled the camp trunk into the foyer, was paid, and left. Finally they were alone.
His mother's sister seemed somehow terribly ill at ease once they were alone together in her horn.
"Are you hungry, dear? Can I fix you anything to eat?"
"No, thanks, I ate on the train," he replied, a bit self-consciously.
"Well, if you don't mind, I think I'll celebrate your being here by having a little drink." She was at the bar before she finished the sentence. She had been drinking more than usual during the long weeks that Frankie had been in camp. Also, this was the first time she had had a guest in the house when she made herself a drink since Dick had moved out. Something like this must have been on her mind because she absent-mindedly made two drinks instead of one. Laughing at her mistake she asked Frankie if he'd like to try a sip of it.
"Sure, why not? I feel very wicked tonight, anyway." He smiled.
"Good, so do I. Let's be wicked together."
Just what I had in mind, Frankie thought, but did not dare say aloud. He sipped the drink. It tasted awful but he pretended to like it since adults are supposed to enjoy liquor. At the moment he would happily have downed a glass of pure acid just to be alone with this luscious aunt of his.
When they finished their drinks Grace suggested that he might like a shower after the long train ride while she got comfortable. Frankie hoped he knew what that meant.
"I left a robe for you on the hamper in your bathroom. It is one I bought for Dick before we had the final blowup. He never wore it and I think it'll fit you."
When Frankie got into the shower he felt ten feet tall. He realized that his Aunt Grace was getting herself pretty stoned. She had said something about getting "comfortable." He had seen enough adult movies to know what that meant. On top of that she had offered him a robe that she had bought for her ex-husband. Perhaps there might be an association value there. He soaped, scrubbed and rinsed his crotch three times-just in case he might get lucky with the big redhead.
He returned to the comfortable living room before Grace. Somewhat timidly, he poured himself another drink. The entire atmosphere of this home was so different from his. There was a warmth and a feeling of life that had never existed in the sterile quarters which he had called home. Suddenly he thought of his parents, perhaps drowned, or perhaps floating about in a yellow rubber life raft in the vast uncharted Pacific. He knew that he should feel something that he wasn't feeling. Some worry, or remorse, or grief, or something-but he felt nothing other than an anxiety for his aunt to come back into the room in her "comfortable" attire.
Grace tried on, inspected and rejected several of her sexiest negligees before settling on the lime-green tricot robe. She realized that it was semi-transparent, revealing her full breasts and the large triangle of reddish-brown pubic hair. She did not understand how hungry her young nephew was for her lush body and felt that she really had to seduce the boy. She touched up her makeup, checked her hair, and gave herself a final inspection in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door before re-entering the living room.
Frankie's heart skipped several beats as she approached the couch. She was even more lovely now than in any of his wildest dreams of her. His eyes feasted on her curvaceous body beneath the flimsy material. Her lush, full breasts were all but clearly revealed. The pink nipples with their silver-dollar-sized round frames were plainly revealed to his hungry eyes. Fifteen inches below them her soft pubic hillock with its full growth of coppery hair was readily discernible through the gossamer robe. The erotic sight had an immediate effect upon his manhood.
Grace seemed in no great rush to return to the couch. She fiddled around at the bar, fixing another drink while treating the enraptured youth to an unhurried view of her firm, full buttocks as well as her ample frontal charms. By the time she sat beside him, Frankie had a firm and full erection. Goddamn, this aunt of his was just too much woman. He was grateful that she remained silent because at this moment he could not have uttered a syllable even if the house had been as much on fire as his cock was.
"Would you like for me to turn on the television?" she asked after a long pause.
"Hell, no! Why waste electricity? I couldn't take my eyes off of you to look at any stupid boob-tube. You're the loveliest sight I've ever seen," he stammered.
"Oh, Frankie, you're sweet. You're just trying to make an older woman feel good," she coaxed.
"Older or younger, I don't care. To me, you're the most beautiful woman who ever walked the surface of the earth." He knew that he shouldn't say such things to his own aunt, but he had passed the point of no return now.
"My precious nephew, I hope you really mean that." With her remark she reached over to pat his hand. In so doing she brushed against his erected manhood. Now she patted not only his hand, but his inflamed organ as well. Then she seemed to regain her composure and finished her drink.
She fixed a slightly bleary-eyed stare on him now and Frankie had the awful feeling that somehow the spell had been broken. He knew that he should say something, tell her of his love and passion for her, perhaps even of his dreams about her, but words just wouldn't come. Deep down inside he could feel the "dear youngster" dismissal coming but seemed powerless to ward it off.
"It's been a long, hard day for me, Frankie. I wanted the house to look just right for your arrival. Now I feel a little drunkie and a little sleepy. Will you take your tired old Auntie in and tuck her into beddy-bye?" As she asked the question she got unsteadily to her feet.
Frankie put his arm around her waist and led her into her bedroom. While she tottered next to him he turned down the covers and assisted her in between the cool, clean sheets. As she slid into bed her robe opened and the mammoth triangle of reddish brown hair lay bare just beneath him. It took all of his control not to bury his face in it. Perhaps he had assumed too much. He could not stand the thought of being rejected by his dear aunt, not at this point, anyway.
Mustering all of the control that he could, he spread the covers up over that lovely full-blown body. Only a dim light from the bathroom illuminated the bedroom. It would take all of his strength to turn and walk away from his dream come true.
"Aren't you even going to kiss me goodnight?" she asked as he forced himself to turn away from the bed.
"Of course, Aunt Grace," he mumbled, turning back toward her.
"Why don't you just call me 'Grace' when we're alone?" she suggested.
"Okay, Grace, my dear." He let the last words slip as he bent over the bed to kiss his aunt goodnight.
Frankie dared expect no more than the soft touch of her full lips such as he had felt that day when he left for camp. Instead, when their mouths touched, Grace's lips opened wide and her tongue forced its way into his eager mouth. At the same time her arms went around his shoulders in such a demanding way that he lost his balance and fell onto the bed with her. Her prolonged kiss was filled with passion now as she sucked his tongue deep into her mouth. Meanwhile her hands were busy turning back the covers and urging her nephew's body close beside her own. Their tongues darted in and out of each other's mouth as their lips remained glued together. Once he was close to her between the sheets, Grace's hand eagerly untied the belt of his robe and threw it open, and then his firm, hot shaft of manhood was against her furred womanly mound. Frankie's hands, meanwhile, explored his aunt's huge, lovely tits and toyed with the stiffening nipples. Neither of the incestuous lovers spoke a word as he rolled over to mount her and she spread her thighs as her right hand guided his trembling cock until the swollen mauve head was positioned directly upon its soft, warm, moist target. She removed her hand now as the stiff young prick slid effortlessly into the creamy cavern of her sex-starved cunt.
"Oh, God, Frankie, you're all that I dreamed you would be. That lovely big prick of yours feels like an invasion of angels deep inside me. Oh, I love it, my sweet little nephew. Give it all to me. I want to feel you deep inside of me. Fuck me, Frankie, fuck your old auntie all the way. I want every bit of your cock. I have longed for it so long now. Sock it all to me. Don't hold back a single bit. I can take every inch of that lovely meat of yours. Fuck me, Frankie ... fuck me real good! Tell me, darling, does your auntie's cunt feel as good to you as your sweet prick feels to me?" She was panting now and the words came in short, jerky phrases.
"Oh, Grace, if only you knew how many times I have dreamed of just this-only this is so much better than even the best of those dreams. Jeez, you're so soft and warm and wet. It's like shoving my cock right into heaven. Oh, Grace, I love you. I've loved you and wanted you for so long. Promise me that nothing can ever separate us. I love you, my dear Aunt Grace, so much more than I ever loved my mother. Not that we ever did this. I've never done this with anyone else before ... except in my dreams and then it was always with you. Oh, my precious aunt ... Auntie Mine. Oh, Grace, dear. I'm about to come. Is it all right if I come inside you?"
"My silly darling-. Of course it's all right. I want to feel your sweet young come flooding my cunt. Try to hold off for just a moment more and I'll join you. That's it, fuck me hard now. Get it in as deep as you can. Oh, God, yes, that's it. Come to me now, Frankie. I'm going to come like I haven't in years. Now! Slam it to me, baby! Give me every inch of it and let me feel it gush forth deep inside me. I want every drop of that precious ball juice of yours. Give it to me right now, Frankie. Come in my cunt! Oh yes, I feel it, I feel it! Oh, Christ, I feel your sweet cock exploding in my pussy. Oh, my darling little nephew, promise you'll never leave me."
"I'm coming, Grace. I'm coming right in your cunt. Feel it, Auntie Mine. Feel it shooting out deep inside your belly! Oh, I love you, Grace, I love you. You are all the family I'll ever need."
Once their passions had spewed they lay panting and sweating as close together as man and woman can get. For long, lovely moments, neither said a word.
"Am I heavy on you, Grace?" Frankie asked, making a move to withdraw and lie beside her.
"Oh no, my darling. Don't take it out! I want to feel your lovely cock inside of me for every precious moment I can keep it there. Don't move a muscle. Just lie still and feel what I am going to do to you. Don't move. Just concentrate on it."
In truth Grace knew that if her nephew kept his softening prick inside her cunt she could still achieve one or two more orgasms. The first swept over her now. She felt the rhythmic muscular contortions deep inside her as the gates of sexual heaven opened for her a second time. She knew that the young boy could feel it, too.
"Did you feel that, Frankie?" she asked, needlessly, but wanting to hear him comment on the sensation.
"Wow! Did I ever! It was as though you were hugging and squeezing me ... down there. It was wonderful," he sighed.
"Well now, you just keep it in there and hold real still and in a minute or so you may feel it all over again. Don't let it slip out," she urged.
Frankie was only too happy to follow his lovely aunt's instructions. It was the first time that he had ever really been in a woman, except in his wet dreams. What she had done to his cock with those inner muscles had been infinitely more thrilling than anything he'd ever been able to do to it with his hands. Up until that thrilling hugging and squeezing session she had just given him he could feel that his prick was shrinking in size. Now, still embedded in the warm wetness of her tunnel of love, he felt his enthralled young prick begin to swell and grow and harden again while still in his aunt's damp, hot interior.
Grace felt it, too. It was all she needed. She threw her legs around the boy's ass and pulled him deeper into her crotch as the convulsions of come swept over her for a third time.
"Oh, Frankie, hold it right there. It's wonderful. Your auntie is coming again to your beautiful cock."
"I can feel it, Grace. It's as though you were squeezing me with a dozen velvet gloves. Jeez, I'm getting a brand new hard-on. Have you had enough, do you want me to take it out?"
"Don't you dare! That's one piece of round steak I can't get too much of. Oh yes, I feel it swelling and getting nice and hard inside my snatch. Oh, Frankie, fuck me again! Oh, God, how I love it. I hate to say it but I hope they never find your folks. I never want to have to give you up now that I have you all to myself."
"I hope they don't either, Grace. Even if they do, I won't go home. I never want to leave you again." As he talked he began to press deeper and deeper into his aunt's soft, hot sex slit.
"This time, sweetheart, let's do it slowly and gently. Work it all the way in and out as nice and easy as you can. There, that's it. Doesn't that feel good to you?"
"Yes, it feels wonderful being inside you. I never knew that anything could be this lovely."
"Oh, my God, I love it! I just love to feel it slipping in and out, inch by inch, ever so slowly. Don't hold back now, give me every bit of it on the downstroke." As if to emphasize her meaning she reached around and spread the buttocks of his ass, forcing her middle finger all the way into the tight tan doughnut of his rear. The pressure she exerted on his prostate forced him even deeper into her velvet vagina.
"Oh, Auntie Mine, that cunt of yours is like heaven on earth. How can I tell you how much it means to me, after all these months of loving you, of dreaming of you from afar, to finally be here making love to you. I must confess the hug and kiss you gave me in the station that day that I left for camp were all that have kept me going all these lonely weeks."
"I know, darling. Oh, God, how well I know. I felt your sweet prick touch me as we parted. The thought of it has driven me up the walls every night since. But now all that is behind us. We are together, at last and forever, I hope. Just fuck me. Press that beautiful rod of manflesh deeper and deeper into me with each stroke and let's forget the past. We have so much ahead of us. I promise you that I am yours as long as you will be content to be mine. You are all that I want ... all that I need. Now, give it all to me. Oh, how I love the feel of you deep inside me. Good Lord, I think I'm going to come again. I wouldn't have thought it possible. That will make four times tonight and you haven't even taken your prick out of me since we started. Can you come with me, Frankie?"
"I think so, Grace. But your pussy feels so sweet and comfortable I don't ever want it to end."
"Don't worry, my sweet nephew. It will always be there for you any time you want it or need it. Right now, just fuck me deep and come with me as I come all over that beautiful prick of yours that is buried deep in my cunt."
"Here it is, Grace, I can't hold back. Are you ready? Can you come right with me?"
"Oh, yes, my sweet, I'm coming. I'm coming all over your sweet cock! Oh, Frankie, I love you so. I want you always to be mine."
"I'm coming now, Grace. Feel it belch forth inside you. I am yours, and you are mine. It will always be that way from now on. Come to me, dearest."
"Yes, Frankie. I'm coming, right with you. Shoot your sweet load into me, baby. I want every drop of it."
"Here it is, Auntie dear. Ooohhh! Oh, my God, you're too much!"
"You too, my dear. Isn't it wonderful that we have each other at last?"
After Frankie had felt the head of his cock swell to bursting and then blast its final offering for tonight deep inside his luscious aunt, he waited until the now fully spent staff of his manhood shrank until it plopped out of the overly moist tunnel in which it had spent the past hour.
Within minutes they were asleep, sexually fulfilled and content to be with one another. Grace had turned on her side and presented her full, firm buttocks to his exhausted and now limp prick. His arm went around his aunt and held a handful of soft, sweet tit. Later he would remember this first night when the object of all his dreams lay in his arms and he, for some stupid reason, dreamed of automobiles.
Frankie, used to the six A.M. reveille at camp, awakened while Grace was still sound asleep. Her buttocks, pressed tightly against his groin as they slept, had given him a new erection. He reached down between her thighs and felt the moist slit. The head of his cock followed his hand into the well-lubricated valley. Grace stirred in her sleep and moved a bit, and Frankie felt the slimy head of his prick in the rear valley between her lush buttocks. Still not fully awake, he grasped her hipbone and pulled her toward him. He felt himself slip inside her, although she seemed, somehow, tighter and hotter than last night. She thrust back toward him and soon he was buried to the hilt inside his aunt. She responded to his every thrust into her as she slowly awakened.
"Oh, my dear nephew, that feels wonderful.
I've never had it that way before. It's wonderful. Don't stop. Keep it going just the way you are. I love the feel of your stiff prick in my ass."
Frankie was a little shocked. He thought that he had slid between her legs and gotten it into her in the front. He had never even heard of screwing a woman up the ass, but now he was obviously doing it to his mother's sister. It felt about the same as what he had done to her last night. He thought of switching holes but, by now, she was bucking so hard back against him that he thought it best to maintain the present contact. After all, the sensation was surely most pleasant. He pressed deeper and deeper into her anal cavity as she shoved her lithe ass back toward him to meet his every thrust. After a few minutes she moaned and groaned and he felt her anal muscles contract around his deeply embedded staff. Moments later they thrust firmly against each other and he felt his balls against her crotch as he shot his load deep into her bowels.
When it was over and he withdrew from the brown starfish of her rear, he felt quite embarrassed until she rolled over and kissed him deeply.
"Darling, that was lovely. I actually came to your cock in my asshole. I never would have dreamed it was possible."
"I'm sorry," he muttered, "I thought I was in front. I didn't know. Please forgive me."
"But, sweetie, there's nothing to forgive. It was beautiful and something that is all originally ours. I cherish it as such."
They went back to sleep then. Frankie was aware of the big soft tits flattened against his chest and the huge hairy muff pressed close to his groin.
They were awakened by the raucous ringing of the telephone. Grace got up and went to answer the single instrument in the house, in the center hallway. The conversation was obviously one-sided. He only heard her murmur, "Yes,"
"I understand," and "Thank you." When she hung up she went directly to the bathroom. Apparently it was an emergency trip because she did not even take time to close the door. He heard her peeing into the toilet bowl. It had a strange effect on him. His mother had always been such a prude. Even though he was nearly seventeen, Frankie had never heard a woman pee before. He found the sound erotically stimulating. By the time his aunt returned to the bedroom he had another erection. She noticed it the moment she entered the door. Frankie stared at her nude body. Aside from that fleeting glimpse as she had passed his door that night, he had never seen a fully naked woman. Her body, to his way of thinking, was absolutely perfect in every detail. She was all that man could want woman to be.
"That was Mr. Robinson. He has just checked with the travel agency. It's been two days now. There is still no word on either the plane or the survivors. It looks like Sally and Harry may be lost at sea ... dead."
"Good," Frankie said, feeling a little guilty at his lack of human compassion. He held his arms out to Aupt Grace and she came into them and snuggled close to him in bed. This time she got on top of him and impaled herself on his stiff young rod. His hands grasped her buttocks and her hips as she began the movements that slid her juicy cunt up and down the length of his swollen prick. Once she had proven, by her actions, that she had the situation well under control, he released her hips and his hands rose to cup her full breasts. God, but they were lovely! While he fondled, caressed and squeezed them, she rode up and down on his hard cock until he couldn't stand the soft, sweet caress any longer. He could not feel it but he hoped that she had already gotten her jollies as he erupted up into the soft moist recess of her womanhood that encased him. She moaned, perhaps at the feel of his ejaculation deep inside her, and collapsed upon him. This aunt of his was more woman than he had even dared dream she would be.
"Did you come, Grace, or did I beat you to the punch this time?" he asked, a little timidly.
"Oh, darling, it was lovely. In the mad heat of passion I guess you couldn't feel me, but I got mine and I felt you shooting hard up inside of me. I love you, dear nephew, and we are well mated. That's all that matters and don't you ever forget it."
"Don't worry, Auntie Mine ... I never will."
CHAPTER FIVE
The days slid happily by into wonderful weeks. Frankie had his own room in Aunt Grace's house, but it was never used. Each night they slept together ... eventually. Their lives were more like those of a honeymoon couple than those of a bereaved nephew and aunt. After the first few days they never thought of, much less mentioned, his lost parents. They were happy with each other and all else was blotted out of their minds and lives.
For the first time in their love-starved lives both Frankie and his Aunt Grace were thoroughly happy. From the very beginning of their relationship, Grace never treated Frankie as an adolescent and he never thought of her as being older ... almost the age of his mother. He knew, of course, that she had been married but never asked her about it. One night after dinner she told him all about Dick and their life together. It had been one of those family-arranged marriages. Dick had been the son of her father's college roommate. They had been out on a few dates together, all family-arranged. After her father-Frankie's grandfather had taken the big spill on his tragic venture into high finance, Sally had married Harry and, before Grace knew what was happening, there were wedding plans for her and Dick. He had never proposed to her. They were both caught in the same trap. She couldn't bring herself to blame poor Dick. Heaven knows, he tried as hard as she did, in the beginning. Their sex life was virtually non-existent. It hadn't taken her long to discover that Dick was hopelessly homo sexual. His attempts to have sex with her were emotionally negated by the fact that he was completely in love with a young man at the office. At first she had tried to fight it. Their fights became more and more drastic. It is hard enough for a young wife to fight the fact that her husband is having an affair with another woman, but when it is with another man, what does she do? Grace confessed to Frankie that she had not revealed Dick's secret to either her family or his. For many months she had felt that there was something wrong with her. Only when Frankie came to live with her had she finally abolished that idea.
Several times they discussed how they would handle the finances of living together. At the time they were totally unaware of the large accident policies that Harry had taken out on Sally and himself. Grace had some money in the bank and figured that this could tide them over until Frankie got out of school and could get a full-time job.
As far as Frankie was concerned, he knew only that he and his sexy Aunt Grace were together and he would be happy to spend the rest of his days shoveling shit, if necessary, to keep it that way.
The first Monday after Labor Day, he enrolled in the local high school. He felt almost as out of place as he had in Camp Mohawk. All of a sudden all of his contemporaries seemed like kids. After school they went home to momma while he went home to his auntie-mistress. At nights, while they jerked off, he was getting screwed, glued and tattooed. Naturally, neither he nor Aunt Grace gave any indication of their true relationship outside of the house, but it was always there, at the back of their minds.
One day after school Frankie came back to the house and found Grace pacing up and down the living room like a caged lion. She had obviously had a few drinks and he wondered if perhaps he had done something wrong to upset her.
"Frankie, I had a phone call today from Mr. Robinson, your late father's partner."
"Yes?" he asked, fearful that that do-gooder might be trying to do something that would separate him from his beloved aunt.
"Frankie, I don't know how to tell you this," she stammered.
"Never you mind, Auntie Mine. I don't give a damn what they try. There is no power on earth that I will allow to separate us now. I love you, Aunt Grace. You are my woman and I'm your man and nothing can change that."
"Frankie, you don't understand. It's nothing like that at all. I agree, nobody can tear us apart now that we are together. I love you, my dear, not as a nephew, but as a man. Frankie, my savings were getting down to the bottom of the barrel and then this happened. I don't know whether I'm glad or sorry, but I have to tell you."
"Tell me what, Grace? No matter what it is it can't change anything between us. You know that. At least I hope you do. You should know how I feel about you. As soon as I'm old enough, I want to marry you. There, I said it. It's been in the back of my mind for a long time but I've never had guts enough to come right out and say it. Now you know."
"Oh, my dearest." She hugged and kissed him so hard she almost threw him off balance
... which was okay with him. Falls were always interesting ... in the end.
"Darling, that's the sweetest thing anyone ever said to me. I want you to know that I will cherish it always, but perhaps when I tell you my news you'll feel differently. If so, believe me, old Aunt Grace will understand."
"Look, Grace, stop all the shit and tell me what the hell has you so bugged. I just don't understand you at times like this."
"Frankie, something came up today that could change everything. Oh, my dear, I'm not deluding myself. These weeks with you have been the most heavenly of my life, but the fact remains that I'm old enough to be your mother. You know it and I know it." She started to cry at this.
"Look, Grace, you know that doesn't mean diddly-do to me if it doesn't to you. What the hell are they trying to do ... break us up?"
"Not in so many words, but it could well amount to that," Grace replied, the tears still flowing down her lovely cheeks. "You see, Frankie, my dear nephew, you don't need your old aunt any more. You're rich."
"Me, rich? Are you out of your F.M.? You've been hitting that booze too hard while I've been at school. You know damned well I don't have a pot or a window to throw it out of."
"That may have been the way we started, but as of today, all that has changed. You don't need me any more."
"I'll always need you, Grace, now more than ever. What is all this shit, anyway?"
"Mr. Robinson called today. It has been six weeks since the plane crash. Your parents have now been declared legally dead."
"So what? So they're dead. You and I figured that from the very beginning. What's the big deal? I'm sorry that they're dead, of course, but there's no love lost. You are the only love I've ever known in my life, family or otherwise. I don't get it. Why are you so suddenly uptight, just because they've been declared legally dead?"
"Darling, you don't understand. It changes everything. You're rich now. Mr. Robinson says that Harry took out hundred thousand-dollar accident policies on both him and Sally, in case anything happened to them on this trip. You will be getting two hundred thousand dollars from the insurance company plus over fifty thousand dollars from his share of the business. That means that you, my dear nephew, will soon be worth a quarter of a million dollars. Surely with all that money you needn't be saddled with an older woman. You can get the very best of the young stuff."
"Big deal! So I'm gonna get a quarter of a mil. Great, I'm naturally delighted but don't you go getting any bright ideas that it spoils what we have going for us. Of course I am thrilled over the prospects. I guess I wouldn't be human if I weren't. But, my precious little Auntie Mine, let me tell you exactly what it means to me ... at least, at the moment. Before you start packing my duds let me tell you what I plan to do with that money. First off, we'll go down to Sears and get that new washer and dryer you've been dreaming of. While we're there we'll get an automatic dishwasher for the kitchen. Once we've done that we'll trade in that tired old Chevy of yours on a new Cadillac. Then we'll get you a whole new wardrobe so that I can feel that I am clothing my woman, rather than seeing you wear the things Dick bought you."
"Do you really mean it, Frankie? Is that what you really want to do with your newfound wealth?" The tears were drying up now.
"Of course, you sweet goop. What the hell did you think I wanted to do with it ... leave you?"
They both laughed and fell into each other's arms. Soon they were on the couch ... and then Frankie was on his Aunt Grace. After that there were no more laughs nor tears ... just soft moans and groans as they enjoyed each other's body and physically proved their love for one another.
After Frankie had soundly fucked his aunt on the couch he led her off to bed in their room. Fuck dinner. Later, if they got hungry, each of them could go down to the "Y" for something to nibble on.
CHAPTER SIX
One nice thing about having money: it's not too hateful a thing to get used to. At first there was the awful temptation to buy and spend foolishly, but Bob Robinson had made the point very strongly on the evils of going overboard on a big sudden windfall like this. He took Frankie to his bank and established a trust fund account for him. He could not touch the principal until he was twenty-one. Because the bank was guaranteed that the full amount would remain on deposit for at least five years, he would draw six percent interest which would be sent to him monthly at the rate of $1,240.00 a month, or $300.00 for each week. Mr. Robinson recommended that Frankie learn to budget this money just as though it was a salary. He encouraged him to establish a separate savings account and deposit a portion of his monthly income into that account and save up for larger purchases such as automobiles and major vacation trips. It was quite a giant step up the financial ladder from the five-dollar-a-week allowance he was used to.
That night he and Grace had a budget meeting. At her insistence he had dropped the "Aunt Grace." She explained that it just rubbed her nose in their incestuous relationship every time he called her that, especially while they were fucking. For the first time Grace laid her financial cards on the table. The house was fully paid for, as were all the appliances and the old Chevy. She received $300.00 a month alimony and out of that she had to put away eighty dollars a month for the property taxes and insurance premiums. Frankie realized what a hardship he had been on her strained budget. It made him appreciate and love her all the more.
"Tell you what I would like to do for you, Grace," he announced proudly. "First, forget about putting money aside for taxes and insurance. I'll pay those and also the utilities. So you start off with the full $300.00 a month you get from Dick. Since that money is the screwing he gets now for the screwing he got before you split up, you should have full use of it. Then, since you're giving me the same sexual services now that you used to give him, I think I should at least match his figure, so I'll give you another $300.00 a month. How does that grab you?"
"Like wonderful! But you don't have to do that, Frankie." Her eyes were moist as she tried to find the right words to thank him for doubling her net income and, at the same time, eliminating one of her major expenses.
"Of course, I don't have to. I'm doing it because I want to. That and so much more, my beautiful sexpot relative. You just wait and see, I'm going to treat you like a perpetual bride."
"Oh, you dear sweet idiot." She no sooner got it out than she burst into hysterical laughter until the tears rolled down her cheeks.
"What's so damned funny? For heaven's sake let me in on the gag, although I doubt that anything could be that funny."
"I was just thinking about your mentioning 'alimony' and 'perpetual bride.' I must have a golden cunt. I'll bet I'm the first broad in history to get $300.00 a month alimony before the wedding!"
"Oh, Grace, dearest, I didn't mean it that way. I certainly wouldn't want to make you feel like a whore or a kept woman, or anything."
"Why the hell not? At these prices I'm beginning to like the idea. Here I've been scrimping to make ends meet. I've thought of trying to get a job but I've never learned to do anything. Now I suddenly discover that I've been sitting on a veritable goldmine all this time. Maybe I should scout around and broaden my clientele," she teased.
"You do and I'll break that beautiful little ass of yours. Now that you're a rich man's plaything, I demand your full and undivided attention."
"Yes, master." She demurred and slid onto his lap and kissed him deeply as she ran her fingers through his hair.
Grace could feel the effects of her kisses as his cock grew and hardened beneath her buttocks. She waited until it was fully erect and then raised up long enough to reach beneath her rear and unzip his fly. The hot, hard prick practically leaped out at her. At times like this she was glad that she did not wear panties. She threw up her rear skirts and positioned herself on the burning knob of that sweet staff of his. Then she slowly lowered herself down into his lap again, now fully impaled on his seething flesh rod. Frankie unbuttoned her blouse and cupped those wondrous tits that never ceased to be a source of pure delight to him. He rolled the nipples between his thumbs and middle fingers and felt them swelling and stiffening just as his cock had. Grace began rhythmically raising and lowering herself, running her cunt up and down the length of his burning turgid prick.
"Jesus, it feels good this way! This is a great position," Frankie moaned as she rode the young stallion.
"You just sit still, my boy, while I give you a real good cunt massage," she instructed.
"Oh, Auntie, hurry, I'm just about ready to come."
"Goddamn it, Frankie, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me 'Auntie' while we're fucking. Christ, pedophelia is bad enough without being reminded that it's incest at the same time. Emily Post says it ain't proper etiquette for young boys to go around fucking their old aunts."
The sudden verbal blast seemed to close a valve in his balls. He had been ready to shoot his load but she had turned it off. Now he could tell from her motions that she wanted to come this way, too. He determined to hold back until she was ready.
"Let me know when you are ready, Grace. I think I can wait for you now."
"Oh, baby, I hope you can. That hot prick of yours has my pussy close to the melting point now."
She raised all the way up now until just the lips of her cunt made the slightest contact with the very tip of his cock. Pivoting her rump, she brought her burning clitoris into tight contact with him and then she dropped rapidly in a free fall that impaled her swiftly all the way to his balls.
"Now, right now! Can't you feel it? Give it to me, Frankie. Let me feel that hot come shoot up into me and cream my cunt while I'm still coming to you."
"Here it is, baby. Ohhhhh, you're really ball-draining me this way. Can you feel me coming in you?" he gasped breathlessly.
"Oh, God, yes! I love to feel that molten manhood of yours gushing deep inside of me and splashing off my uterus. It is flooding into my sex thimble like a lover's douche of purest ambrosia and honey."
He held her down, impaled on his shriveling cock until that poor dead soldier plopped limply out of her wide-stretched cunt. When he released her she raised herself numbly from his lap. Frankie watched in fascination as a steady stream of his semen oozed out of the gaping grocket and trickled slowly down her inner thigh.
When his first monthly trust fund check came he dashed to the local branch of the bank to get it cashed. Fortunately, it arrived on a Friday when the bank was open until six o'clock. He opened a savings account with a three-hundreddollar deposit, then got three crisp new one-hundred-dollar bills for Grace. He put two hundred in cash in his wallet and opened a special checking account with the balance. Normally banks frown on people under eighteen having a checking account. The manager of this small branch closed his eyes to this fact once he learned that young Frankie had a quarter of a million dollars on fiduciary deposit in a trust account with their main branch. Obviously, he was not financially irresponsible. He even made sure that Frankie got some special checks immediately. On the way home he picked up a dozen longstemmed roses and a beautiful card that said simply: Just because I love you.
He enclosed the three one-hundred-dollar bills with the card. Grace was as thrilled as a girl going to her first prom. "Nobody has brought me flowers in years!" she exclaimed.
"That's because you've been hanging out with the riffraff. From now on you better stick to us young millionaire types," Frankie kidded her. It was a great feeling being a rich young stud.
When she opened the card she nearly burst into tears. She threw her arms around him and kissed him. She had a nice way of shoving her pelvis forward which made her furry mound press up against his cock while her lovely big tits flattened against his chest. Frankie thought of that brief physical encounter at Grand Central when he had left for camp. Never in his wildest dreams had he envisioned so completely possessing his sex goddess of an aunt. All that hunk of woman and wealth, too. Yea verily, he thought, my cup do indeed runneth over.
"I'll cherish this card always. I will keep it with me forever, in my purse as well as my heart. It would be gift enough, even without the three hundred," she beamed.
"That's no gift, my dear. That's your first month's advance alimony, remember?"
"Yeah, that's right. The monthly whoring fee for that dirty old incestuous pedophile," she laughed bitterly. "Okay, I'll drink to that."
"Not here, you won't, not tonight. C'mon, put on something extra-sexy. We're going out to dinner and I want every man in the restaurant to eat his heart out when he sees you."
"But it's early yet, you dear boy. I thought maybe if I played my cards right maybe you'd give me a little first," she pouted.
"Sorry, lady. I can't work you into my busy schedule until later tonight. Besides, we have to finish dinner and be somewhere by eight o'clock."
"Where?" she asked.
"Never you mind now. It's supposed to be a surprise. Now you just trot along in there and drape the body beautiful in your prettiest threads and gild the lily with your makeup."
While Grace was getting dressed, Frankie opened a can of beer from the refrigerator and, turned on the old black-and-white television in the living room to watch the early evening news. He had already cleaned up and put on his best suit before going to the bank. Fifteen minutes later she floated into the room like a vision of loveliness.
"Well, what do you think of your old aunt now? Do I pass inspection?" She did a little model's turn in front of his chair to give him the full effect.
Frankie's eyes bulged and he let out a long, low wolf whistle. She looked like a real live movie star.
"My God, Grace. I know it's a woman's privilege to look alluring, beautiful and sexually enticing but, really, don't you think you're abusing the privilege?"
"Lie to me some more, I love it," she beamed. "Trouble is, sometimes it takes me a while to figure out whether some of your cute little remarks are compliments or insults."
"For you, lady, nothing but compliments. You can make book on it." He grinned as he took her arm and they headed out to the old Chevy. That too would be changed one of these days.
The restaurant that one of the teachers at school had recommended when Frankie had asked him about the better places in the community was very French, very expensive and very good. Although he was still under the legal age to order a drink in a public place, he insisted that Grace have double champagne cocktails, which he shared with her when nobody was looking. The teacher had suggested that Frankie have the maitre d' recommend the specialties of the house rather than trying to figure out the handwritten French menu. As a result of the suggestion he showed a lot of class for a young fellow out with a statuesque older woman. He waved the menu aside when the waiter offered it. Even Grace was impressed.
The poor man's Charles Boyer who introduced himself as Monsieur Pierre spoke with a carefully cultivated Parisian accent, although actually he had come from Quebec and never even been to France. The ribbon rosette of the Legion d'Honneur displayed proudly in the lapel of his slightly shiny tuxedo had been conferred upon him by a pawnbroker in Elmhurst in recognition of having crossed his palm with three dollars in silver. His black moustache with the waxed tips was almost too classically French. Frankie wondered if it was a pastie and came off at night along with the false teeth which seemed too large for his mouth and clicked embarrassingly as he spoke. The balance of his routine seemed limited to much bowing, heel clicking, and an uncontrollable impulse to kiss his fingertips whenever he described or even mentioned any item of the oh-so-French cuisine.
In spite of his comic opera appearance and performance he took his job very seriously and planned their menu with all of the careful attention to detail of General Foch mapping a major military maneuver. He made a major production out of giving the waiter the selected bill of fare in French. Frankie began to understand why the French often spend four to five hours at the dinner table. At long last the waiter repeated the order. For an appetizer: escargots. The salad: salade a la Victor. The entree: fiilet of sole meuniere for Madame and filet mignon a la Chateaubriand for Monsieur. For dessert: creme brulee au flan. For a dinner wine: sparkling burgundy, Pol Roget, '38. Monsieur Pierre seemed not in the least concerned that the host might be under the legal age to order wine. As far as he was concerned, Frankie smelled like ready money and, as any true Frenchman knows, money transcends the mundane boundaries of laws and regulations.
Grace and Frankie both agreed that the dinner was superb, although he was a trifle distraught to learn that escargots were common garden variety snails sauteed in garlic butter heavily laced with herbs and spices. For both his luscious aunt and himself it was, indeed, a culinary experience to be remembered. When he was presented with the Taddition" he could scarcely believe the cost of just under fifty dollars. By the time he left a five-dollar tip for the waiter and laid a cinq note on Monsieur Pierre who hovered, conveniently, at their table as they prepared to leave the restaurant it had cost him sixty bucks. Up until now that represented three months' allowance-blown on one meal! Shit, he had only been a rich young man for one day and already the local tradesmen were giving him a royal fucking. Oh, well, he surmised, such is the price of worldly affluence. The happy sparkle in his beloved aunt's eyes made it a bargain at twice the price.
"Where to now, boy potentate?" Grace asked as they got back into the Chevy.
Frankie fought down the urge to suggest that she drop him off at the county poorhouse. Instead he replied, brightly: "Next stop, Sears and Roebuck. I'm in a shopping mood."
"Sure you wouldn't prefer Tiffany's, now that you're so filthy rich?" Grace teased.
Frankie was delighted to see that the champagne and sparkling burgundy had put her in such a sparkling mood. He intended to keep her that way from now on. God knows it was the least he could do to repay her for all of the erotic zest she had added to his life.
Once inside Sears, he took her hand and led her to the escalator to the basement level. There he spotted the sign Major Appliances and guided Grace to it. They were set upon instantly by an obvious commission-type salesman. The balding, beaten-looking little man gave Frankie a cursory once-over and ignored him, addressing himself to Grace, as his obvious pigeon.
"Yes, ma'am, what can I show you tonight?" he hissed.
"I haven't the slightest idea," Grace smiled. "He is the customer. I'm only along for the ride."
The withered fiftyish man looked like he had just lost his last two dollars on the eighth race. Frankie had heard somewhere that these salesmen work a rotation system, taking turns at approaching potential customers. This one man aged to give Frankie a faint smile which had all of the sincerity of a puff adder's. Frankie was on the verge of suggesting that the first thing he could do was to send over another salesman, but there was something pathetic about the old guy. The pallor of his skin looked as though he had spent half of the past forty years in Sears' basement and the other half on the subway. He was obviously one of life's losers and now Frankie, lucky young big winner that he was, might be able to shed at least a temporary ray of sunshine into the dungeon of his existence.
"I'd like to see your very best automatic washer and dryer. I'm not interested in anything but the top-of-the-line models."
He heard Grace's little gasp as she tugged at his arm: "No, Frankie, don't. You've given me more than enough already. I want you to spend your money on yourself. It should bring you pleasure."
"That's what I'm doing. Right now I can't think of anything that would bring me greater pleasure."
"I'm afraid they may be a little more expensive than you had anticipated," the wizened clerk mumbled apologetically as he led them to a beautiful pair of machines that looked more like IBM computers.
"How expensive?" Frankie asked contemptuously.
"Well, they are drastically reduced for our sale this week. The pair is offered as a special at $399.00 in white."
"I don't want white. All our new appliances are going to be in color. How much more for coppertone?"
"That will be twenty dollars more," the clerk mumbled, sure that this would kill the possible sale.
"That's fine. We'll take them. When can you deliver and install them?" Frankie asked, thoroughly enjoying his new role as a major customer.
"We can get them out to you Monday. May I ask, sir, do you have a working washer and dryer now?"
"Yes, we do. They are yours, Kenmore, why?"
"Well, sir, if I may suggest. As part of our special promotion this week we are allowing a trade-in allowance of fifty dollars against these models. If you have no further need for them our delivery man could pick them up and that would cut down appreciably on your down payment."
"That's fine. Write it up that way, except there won't be any down payment. It's a cash sale."
The little man beamed now. He glanced at the other salesmen to see if they were observing his sales prowess. His mind had already computed his commission and the effect that this sale would have on his volume bonus. Frankie roamed around looking at refrigerators, freezers and stoves while Grace gave the salesman the name, address and phone number. When Frankie returned the sales forms were all made out.
"Will that be cash or charge, sir?" The clerk was beaming now and beads of sweat had broken out on his ashen forehead.
"Cash. I'll give you a check for the full amount," Frankie snapped.
The old man's face dropped as though the rug had just been pulled out from under him. Kids this age didn't give out checks for nearly four hundred dollars. This must be some kind of new sick teenage game they were playing on senior citizens.
"Don't worry, pops, it's good," Frankie grinned, observing the older man's discomfort. He handed him his check guarantee card that the bank manager had given him. He smiled with satisfaction as the man's eyes widened when he came to the line marked Limit of Credit and saw the entry Unlimited. He scurried over to the cashier to ring up the sale.
When he returned he was beaming like a Cheshire cat. He handed Frankie the receipted bill of sale and returned the bank's card.
"Young man, I would just like to say to you that in this day and age it is a great pleasure to see a fine boy like yourself being so generous to his mother."
Frankie felt the blush rising and knew that his face must look like a lobster's. Mother, indeed. What the hell did this old bastard take him for? A motherfucker? Shit, it was bad enough being an aunt fucker. Grace sensed his anger and pulled on his arm. He wondered whether she was concerned for his feelings or afraid that he would cancel the order. He glared at the clerk, who seemed to realize that he had said something wrong. He regarded Frankie now with a frightened expression, as he could practically see his commission going down the drainpipe.
"Fuck you, you old cocksucker," Frankie said between clenched teeth. "You better just make damn good and sure that equipment is delivered and installed Monday, and the next time you see me walk into this department, which will be just a month from now, you'd better get smart and go hide in the employee's men's room until I leave."
They were out in the parking lot and climbing into the car before Frankie realized that Grace was sobbing. He tried to comfort her but the big tears just wouldn't stop flowing. Finally he made her slide over and he drove home, even though he didn't have a license. His limited driving experience kept his mind completely on the car and off Grace during the fifteen-minute ride. He was still seething inside. That dumb old fart's stupidity and idiotic remark had fucked up what he had planned as a perfect evening. Shit, maybe it wasn't going to be as much fun being a young rich man as he had thought it was going to be. He and his aunt made the trip home in utter silence, each concerned with their own deeply personal thoughts and reactions to the unfortunate incident.
When they walked into the house Grace gravitated immediately to the bar.
"The 'old lady' needs a drink. How about you, 'son' she sobbed, pouring herself a stiff double hooker of bourbon. t
"Okay, knock it off, Grace. You're not going to let that senile old bastard's stupid statement louse up our first mensuversary celebration, are you? And yes, I will have a drink with you. I need it, too."
"Mensuversary?" Grace asked as she poured him a drink to match her own and handed it to him.
"Yeah, that's Latin. Anno means year and so a yearly celebration, like a birthday or wedding date in an anniversary. Mensu means month and so a monthly celebration of a date is a mensuversary. You know, monthly, like in menstruate. Every month when I get my check we are going to celebrate like tonight. Next month it's going to be a fancy side-by-side refrigerator/freezer with an automatic ice maker that I was looking at tonight. The next month it will be a fancy new stove. Then color TV and some new furniture. As soon as I can save up enough to pay cash for it I want to get you a new car, too."
Grace beamed at her young nephew now. Even though the tears were still rolling down her lovely cheeks, the love she felt for him projected loud and clear. The chance remark had simply brought all of the guilt that she had repressed to the surface. Now she had to face squarely this moment of truth.
"Frankie, we can't really blame the poor guy. He made a perfectly honest mistake. All he did was to say what other people just think. After all, let's be honest with ourselves. I am old enough to be your mother. At least I would be if I'd have been raised in the hills of Tennessee or Kentucky. Remember Sally was only a couple of years older than me. It just won't work, Frankie. We can fool ourselves but we can't fool the world. If we go on this way we are either going to have to hide from the world and become recluses or face the contempt of society."
"Fuck society, what has it ever done for us? I'm hard-pressed to think of a half-dozen people I'd even spit on if they were on fire. Come to think of it, I don't see that precious society breaking your door down, either. Oh shit, Grace, I had planned to make this such a perfect evening for you. Now it looks like the only way to drag the chestnuts out of the fire is to get royally stoned. That old codger at Sears doesn't realize how lucky he is that I didn't cold-cock him."
Grace got over her upset as quickly as it had come upon her. She finished her drink and curled up on the carpet at Frankie's feet.
"How can I possibly thank you for such a wonderful evening? If you're not careful you'll spoil me terribly. Roses, money, fantastic dinner, then that magnificent washer and dryer. I feel like I had won that old TV show Queen For A Day." She laid her head on his knees and smiled up at him. Her hands caressed and rubbed his legs and then almost absentmindedly began to pet and stroke his cock. The effect of her ministrations was both fast and furious. Within a minute his lap looked like a circus tent had been erected in it. The huge tentpole threatened to rip right through his pants. Careful, lest she scrape the dear flesh with the zipper, Grace undid his fly and reached inside to gently remove his lovely big erection and the taut, swollen balls that fed it. The mauve-colored helmet glistened in the light from the bar as clear fluid oozed from the slit in its tip. As she ever so tenderly stroked the shaft between it and his firm, full testicles, more of the precoital lubricant flowed from the slit until the entire head of his burning, trembling member was thickly coated with it. There was enough to grease the way for ready entry into even the tight confines of her rectum, which she had learned to enjoy as much as he did, but tonight called for something different ... something special.
Raising herself to her knees she gently spread his legs and settled comfortably between them. Her face was so close to his twitching prick that she could feel the heat radiating from it. Pursing her lips she blew a stream of cool air onto it, but this proved to be like using a bellows on a fire; it just made it all the hotter. A slightly musky aroma rose from his burning sex center and permeated her nostrils. The fragrance enraptured rather than repulsed her. Slowly she brought her face closer until she could flick out her tongue and lick the clear manly liqueur from, his swollen glans. The more she licked off, the more he emitted. It would take more than the tip of her tongue to keep up with the flow. Looking up, she saw him watching her as she took a very slow and conservative approach to this new activity for them.
On a sudden inspiration she opened the top of her dress and brought out the lovely, soft, cool flesh of her ivory breasts. Pressing her hands to the outsides of them she forced them completely around the fevered staff and then slowly worked them up and down as she masturbated him between her big boobs.
Her young nephew was inflamed with passion now. She knew that if she continued this tit massage for long he'd pop his cookies all over them and that seemed like an awful waste of that liquid heaven. Raising up, she let her tits hang so that one was on each side of his cock. Moving slowly from side to side, she grazed the twitching head of it with first one nipple and then the other. Twisting her shoulders rapidly, she started her big fleshy bags swinging from side to side like a twin pendulum. They slapped against first one side of his prick, then the other, batting it back and forth between them like a fleshy shuttlecock.
She dropped to her haunches and lowered her face to within an inch of the pulsating shaft which twitched and trembled at the proximity of her beautiful face. Cupping his balls gently in both hands she spoke, not so much to her nephew but to his beautiful polished marble sculpture of phallic perfection: "You look good enough to eat and I think that's just what I will do. I'm going to eat you up ... and I mean all the way. I don't want you holding back on me. I want you to come in my mouth. I want you to flood my throat with that sweet sex syrup of yours. I want to swallow every single drop of it. I want you to drown me in it."
Her little speech over, Grace lowered her face slowly. Frankie felt his aunt's soft cool lips gradually encasing the slippery head of his cock and sink in agonizing slow motion inch by inch down the swollen shaft. Her tongue did little butterfly flicks against the full vein along the bottom of his big prick. About halfway down she reversed and raised up until only the tip of the glans was still in her mouth. Her tongue flicked all around and around the purplish knob, making the clear, heavy fluid flow freely. She went after every iota of it like a starving hummingbird at a fresh morning glory vine. Content that she had all there was for the moment she slipped her lips down, a little more rapidly this time, and slid down the hot trembling cock until she had an inch more of it in her mouth than the first time. Her palate, hanging from the rear of her mouth at the entrance to her throat, tickled the head of his sensitive organ like a second tongue as the first one licked and tickled the large urethial vein at the bottom of his staff.
Frankie had enjoyed watching that lovely face take him into itself. Now he closed his eyes and leaned back as he felt that the gates of heaven had been thrown wide for him. As much as he loved sinking deep into his aunt's interior either from the front or rear, down below, this oral enclosure of his throbbing manhood had to be the greatest sensation ever. It was as though every nerve center in his body had been relocated in his enraptured crotch. Slowly she continued the tantalizing trips up and down the turgid shaft, going a little farther down it on each succeeding downward leg of her journey. Just as her lips made the final grazing contact with his balls that she was squeezing and lifting gently, he felt the deep warning tremors like the rumblings of a volcano prior to final eruption. Grace felt them too because her tongue worked feverishly as she pressed her mouth down and pulled his balls up to make sure that she had every bit of that beloved meat in her mouth. The whole room seemed to tremble and spin as the white-hot love lava exploded and erupted into her soft, sweet mouth, flooding her mouth and throat. Frankie felt as though everything inside of him had melted and was gushing out through that little slit in the head of his orally imprisoned cock as a million colored firewrorks exploded behind his closed eyelids.
Aunt Grace really gobbled on his meat and squeezed his balls as though demanding even more of their precious offerings. Even after she had extracted the last drop she seemed reluctant to relinquish her lips' grip upon his spent sex. Her tongue nicked around him like a barber pole stripe and she seemed to be trying to swallow his whole pecker. She was like a woman possessed. She sucked in her cheeks and exerted a great suction upon him while her hands continued to gently massage and knead his balls. One hand worked its way behind them and he felt her middle finger ease up into his rear and begin to saw in and out as she fingerfucked his asshole while she gently gnawed on his soft cock and squeezed his drained balls. After that mammoth ejaculation all these attentions merely made him blow his mind, just as he had blown his balls. He was on the verge of telling her to stop, that he couldn't take any more, when he came to the unbelievable realization that her mouth mugging was having the effect she desired. He was beginning to grow and expand inside of her hot mouth. He was actually getting another erection!
Grace was delighted to discover the success of her frantic efforts. She was surprised at herself that she could just not seem to get enough of her young nephew's come. She had always hated going down on Dick. He usually forced her to do it when he came home drunk and nasty. He would grab her neck roughly and nearly break it as he rammed his sweaty, smelly cock into her gagging mouth. Sometimes he would grab handfuls of her hair and almost tear it out by the roots as he pulled her farther and farther down on it. When he would finally come and release her, the taste of his semen was like bitter almonds and reeked of tobacco and booze. No amount of tooth brushing or gargling seemed to rid her mouth and throat of the dreadful flavor. On those nights when he had staggered into bed and passed out to snore loudly, she would come to the little bar in the living room and drink straight whiskey, trying to kill the revolting taste in her mouth.
She was amazed at her own reaction to the voluntary approach she had made tonight to sucking Frankie's cock. She had started out with the thought that she wanted to do something especially nice for him in gratitude for his sweetness and generosity tonight. She had never dreamed that she would actually enjoy performing this act upon any man. It came as a delightful shock to her that she had actually gotten as much of a thrill out of taking him orally as he had. When she discovered that his clean young sex sauce had the most deliciously intoxicating flavor she could possibly imagine, she could not get her fill of it, even after the huge outpouring into her craving mouth. She simply had to have more, and now it began to appear that she might be able to get at least a smaller second helping of the delightful delicacy. He was growing rapidly and soon he was stiff enough that she could slide her lips up and down the increasing length of his precious penis. This time she tried a complete change of pace. Rather than the soft, gentle, slow strokes of her lips and tongue that had achieved the initial results, she sucked voraciously at him, attacking her favorite meat fast and roughly, like a hunger-crazed lioness as her lips, tongue, throat and fingers all grasped demandingly at his sex as though life itself depended upon another oral injection of that sweet semen.
Frankie moaned and groaned in the agonizing ecstasy of her attack. Her teeth scraped him and she chewed gently on it when she had it all in her mouth. Her finger kept shoving in and out of his rear and her other hand squeezed and tugged at his balls. He got caught up in the frenzy of her needs and began humping up with each of her downstrokes to wedge the swollen knob even tighter and deeper in her throat. They went at each other like a pair of jungle animals in heat. Her big tits bounced and grazed against his balls as she pumped away on the throbbing shaft. He reached down and clutched her tits, pressing them tightly to his naming balls.
"Oh, Gracie, you're getting it. I'm going to come again in your mouth," he panted in a breathless gasp that she heard and understood.
After one more full stroke that buried him ball-deep in her throat, she eased her lips slowly upward until only the head of his twitching, near-bursting prick was in her mouth. Her tongue nicked excitingly around the glans and at the swollen vein that would transport the contents of his balls. Suddenly she felt the telltale swelling and she shared his ecstasy as he gushed forth a copious quantity of his liquefied pearls into her wanton mouth. She resisted the urge to swallow but trapped every drop of this molten heaven in her mouth while she squeezed his balls gently and then stroked the length of his exposed shaft gingerly up and down until she was sure that she had drained him to the very dregs of his manhood. Only when she was satisfied that he was bone dry did she release his totally deflated prick. Sitting at his feet and staring at the once proud tower of masculine power that she had so totally devastated, she allowed his come to trickle slowly past her palate and down her throat as she relished its heady flavor to the very last drop.
"Did you enjoy that treatment, my dear? I only hope that you liked receiving it as much as I loved giving it to you."
"Grace, I think that I've died and gone to heaven. I never dreamed that anything could be so completely ecstatic. Where has this been all my life?"
"Right here, waiting for you." She smiled, pointing to her luscious lips. "From now on they'll be ready any time you are."
Frankie struggled to his feet and offered his hands to help his aunt up from the floor. When they were both standing he unzipped her dress and watched her step out of it. Then he twirled her around and took her into his arms. The lovely tits pressed against his chest and she thrust her pelvis forward until the auburn-haired mound of Venus flattened against his limp cock. Again it was like at Grand Central, but with no involuntary salute from his now thoroughly dead soldier. Guiding her as though in a dance step he backed her to the large soft club chair and urged her down into it.
"Now I want to do it to you," he whispered as he squatted tailor fashion between her spread legs. "I want to make the colored lights flash for you too."
"Darling, you don't have to do that."
"Damn it, that's the second time tonight you've told me I didn't have to do something for you. Can't you get it through your head that I want to do it because I love you?"
He spread her thighs wide and then raised her legs and hooked the backs of her knees over the upholstered arms of the chair. The living room lights were still on brightly and he stared at the soft pink gash of her sex. He had never really seen a cunt up close like this, and now his eyes fixed on it with the same admiring gaze as a painting buff examining the Mona Lisa. The broad expanse of her coppery auburn pubic hair formed a horse collar-shaped frame for the lovely picture. Next to sex Frankie guessed that he loved cars best, and this reminded him of the grille of an Edsel that he had seen in a picture book of cars that Mr. Stanton had loaned him at camp. Inside the dark fur-covered frame lay the tender pink valley with the long, thin, volcano-like mound in the center and the slightly open mouth that led to the seething molten depths far beneath the surface. Slightly to the north of this ridge the little pea-sized half-round globe of her clitoris arose like a sub-miniature Stone Mountain. The white tip of the erectile little member peeked timidly back at him from the open mouth of, its protective shield. To the south beyond the pink valley he could see the tight beige starfish-shaped mouth to the rear tunnel of delight. The entire expanse of the lovely valley was covered with tiny little droplets of moisture, like mountain dew. He ran his fingers lightly through the soft expanses of her pubic hair, lifting and spreading her open to even deeper scrutiny. He could hear her sighing and moaning in anticipation so he moved his mouth closer to its beautiful target. As he did so he caught the faint aroma of her womanhood that wafted lightly and smoothly to tantalize his nostrils like some heavenly perfume concocted for the exclusive use of Venus, the immortal goddess of love.
Frankie wasn't sure exactly how to go about making oral love to a woman's silken slit, so he merely followed his natural instincts. First he dragged his tongue over the vaginal lips and then around the long oval of the pale pink membrane that lay between the inner and outer nether mouths of her sex. The little beads of passionate perspiration had a delicate and lovely flavor, leading him to realize that they were only an appetizer for the heavier and headier taste of her hormonal honeypot. He pressed his lips to those of her inner vagina and sucked the soft moist lips into his mouth, then slowly and gently urged his tongue between them and deep into her warm, wet, velvet vulva. The flavor of her intimate insides was like a heavenly ambrosia as his tongue continued to dart in and out of the tender tunnel.
She began to squirm now and to move herself up and down. He got the silent message and began licking and sucking up and down the entire length of that sweet valley of femininity. Every now and then he would extend beyond its lower reaches and lick around and press his tongue slightly into the hot, tight anal cavity below. Like her frontal sex area, it was fringed with a soft, tickling border of the auburn hair that seemed to grow so profusely in the warm, damp, protected privacy of her comely crotch.
Now he began long, rhythmic strokes up and down the length of her slit, hesitating on her swelling clitoris at the northern extreme and the tight little anus at the southern. Midway in each direction he would dart his tongue as deep as possible into the soft vulva which was becoming wetter and more flavorful with each successive stroke. She tasted delicious and he felt as though he were getting drunk on the flavor and aroma of her sex. She was moaning and squirming violently and Frankie sensed that her climax was close at hand. He wanted it to be perfect for her and was tempted to ask what felt best to her but he was hardly in a position to make himself understood with a mouth full of cunt. Within moments it became unnecessary for him to voice his question. Grace had been humping wildly beneath his face, but halted as his tongue and lips latched onto her clitoris, which had expanded beyond its protective sheath in a female version of sexual erection. She clutched her nephew's head and held him firmly against the inflamed nerve center. Frankie's lips sucked the miniature penile-like protrusion deeply into his mouth while he tickled its raw nerve endings with his tongue. He exerted suction on it like a nursing baby on its mother's nipple while his tongue nicked and darted over and around the sensitive little structure.
Suddenly Grace began to shudder like a sinking ship. He could feel the rippling muscular contortions and hear her moans of sheer erotic ecstasy as the prolonged orally induced orgasm swept over her in wave after wave of delightful inundation in a rampaging sea of sex. The tidal wave of pure unbridled passion finally ebbed and left her breathless and exhausted on the shores of complete sexual satisfaction.
Frankie was proud and happy to realize that his initial performance of cunnilingus had been gratefully and enthusiastically received. His lovely aunt virtually collapsed beneath his face. He pulled back to inspect the havoc he had wrought upon her sex. The color was deeper now than when he had begun. The pink areas had turned a brilliant crimson that seemed to glow with inner satisfaction. The vaginal lips were swollen and parted enough for him to see into the soft tender recesses of the rose-crystal cavern to which they gave access. The extended clitoris was still quivering as its erected white tip began to recede slowly back into the pink protective sheath like a tiny uncircumcised penis. He was fascinated by the sight. Grace still had her eyes closed, enjoying the soothing calm after the tempestuous storm. He could still taste her lovely cunt and, before getting up, decided to kiss it good-bye for now. His lips grazed gently against the wet, gaping slash, causing her to jump as if she had been goosed.
"Oh, God, Frankie, don't. After the beautiful working over you just gave me I may have to have it retreaded before I can touch it with a powder puff. Come up here and kiss me now. I want to taste myself on your lips."
As he kissed her deeply and ran his tongue into her mouth, he was aware of a strange new flavor in her mouth. Suddenly he realized that it was the taste of his come that had flooded her sweet oral cavity. His aunt worked her tongue into his mouth and licked his lips and he knew that she was tasting her cunt on them.
They went to bed then and fell asleep in each other's arms. They kissed until the taste all went away. Her soft tits flattened against his chest and he felt the huge triangle of soft cunthair thrust up to his soft, shrunken cock.
"You've had me all three ways now," she whispered in his ear. "You've come in my cunt, my asshole and my mouth. That means that I'm completely your woman now and that you're stuck with me forever."
"Good. I wouldn't have it any other way," he murmured, just as they drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep. After what they had experienced together tonight, what was there left to dream about?
CHAPTER SEVEN
Month followed happy month. Each time Frankie got his check he made his savings deposit toward Aunt Grace's new car and kept refurbishing her home. He seemed to have little interest in anything personal for himself; everything was for them to use and share together. They had practically no outside friends. Grace had given up most of her married friends after she and Dick broke up. It was no fun to be a fifth-wheel woman in a married group. Every time one of her friend's husbands had gotten drunk, he had gone on the make for her. The wives had gotten mad, thinking that since she had no husband of her own any more she was trying to borrow theirs for stud services. It had been more of a hassle than it was worth. Besides, she had very little in common with them and all their talk about the kids' schools, PTA meetings and fancy family meals. She had just drifted into becoming a recluse. Frankie's childhood had likewise been spent pretty much as a loner with no really close friends. He had never had any real social life to give up when he came to live with his aunt. Now they were both perfectly content to be recluses together. They had each other and an abundant sex life which neither had known before. They soon developed a husband-and-wife type of relationship and all but forgot that they were really aunt and nephew.
Frankie matured rapidly and far beyond his years as a result of living with the older woman. Grace, for her part, made every effort to develop youthful interests and habits that would belie her years. From time to time they had lovers' quarrels just as any other couple. They always made up just as other newly weds do by using sex as the oil to pour upon the troubled waters.
Sexually, they were ideally mated. Grace had reached the stage of life when her interest in sex was at a peak. The main advantage to her in the pedopheliac relationship was that every time she felt the need or desire for sexual activity her young nephew-mate was at the high point of his sexual capabilities and would quickly and strongly erect to accommodate her in whatever way she might prefer at the time. Nor was there any monotony in "the means by which they brought one another to sexual satisfaction. Unlike couples less adventurous in the ways of Sex, their physical and emotional relationship was not endangered by the cancerous inroads of bedroom boredom that plague less imaginative sex mates. They experimented tirelessly with every conceivable position and locale for engaging in vaginal, anal and oral lovemaking. Some of these proved extremely interesting.
One night Frankie was lying supine on the living room floor, wearing only his robe. He was listening to one of his new stereo records on a fine hi-fi system which was his latest addition to their home. Grace felt a sudden urge for sex. While his eyes were closed as he enjoyed the music, she removed her own robe and slipped his open. Straddling his crotch, she knelt above him, tickling his limp cock with her vast muff of pubic hairs and then rubbing her soft, moist slit along the bottom of it as it lay flat up against his stomach. She felt in the mood to play the aggressive masculine role and be on top and provide all the movements. His cock did not remain limp for long and soon she reached beneath her and guided its tip to the mouth of her moist tunnel. She began to slowly scissor her hot wet snatch up and down, using her bent knees as fulcrum points.
Since she was enacting the male part in this intercourse she raised her weight off him and braced her shoulders high, supported by the palms of her hands flat against the carpet. In this position her huge soft breasts hung down just above his face. As she rode up and down his staff in her role of flagpole sitter, he reached up and grasped those lovely tits, sucking first on one nipple and then the other as they swelled and stiffened. He alternated back and forth between the two swollen pink tips like a windshield wiper. He watched the little pimply spots of sex-activated gooseflesh develop in the rosy beige circles of her areolas. Her beautiful big tits had always been extremely sensitive and highly erogenous. Now the right and left seemed to vie with each other to be the major recipient of his suckling ministrations.
Struck with a sudden inspiration, he cupped the outer sides of the twin bags of hanging womanflesh and pressed them tightly together. With a little manipulating he brought the nipples very close together to a point where he could get them both in his mouth and suck both of her tits simultaneously. Grace pivoted her crotch downward slightly toward his feet so that her inflamed clitoris was brought into full and direct contact with the top of his swollen prick as she slid up and down it like a flesh-and-blood yo-yo on a string. The lovely creature nearly went wild with excitement as her three most erogenous zones were all treated to highly erotic stimulation simultaneously. Frankie's sensitive sex probe felt the beautiful woman reach three orgasms before he blasted his own sperm stream high and hard into her. Each time she came, her vaginal walls clutched and squeezed at his embedded member like a sex-crazed runaway milking machine as her soft moist vaginal tunnel grew hotter and wetter as each climax hit her innermost recesses like a high-voltage electrical shock. As the third spasm subsided she collapsed upon him, the widespread lips of her cunt threatening to encase his very balls. That was when his own floodgates burst open and he gushed up into her sweet snatch like a wildcat oil well blasting forth its pressurized load of liquid gold.
Each night, after dinner, they got comfortable and watched the still-new thrill of full-color television, sitting side by side on the couch clad only in their robes. During one romantic late movie Grace's hand slipped almost absent-mindedly inside his robe and began to fondle and stroke his cock, Which soon aroused to a roaring erection. Thinking to bring her to an equal state of readiness so that they could join .their sex organs the moment the movie was over, Frankie slipped his hand beneath her robe and returned her favors. He patted her overgrown mound and slipped his finger into her soft snatch, rubbing the clit as he slid in and out of the wet velvet vulva. The movie had only a minute or so to go when it was interrupted by a long string of commercials. Wanting to see the end, yet still maintain their high level of arousal, they continued to masturbate each other. The sponsors' timing was not cooperative. Just as the exciting conclusion of the picture came back on the screen Frankie realized that he could hold back no longer. Grace realized what was happening when she felt the head begin to swell. She cupped it in her hand and caught the full starchy white discharge that shot out into her palm. The feel of his come flooding into her waiting palm triggered her own climax and her hot wet vagina clutched and squeezed at his embedded digit as she went through her own orgasmic spasm. They looked at each other and smiled like a pair of errant children. Slowly she raised her hand from his spent sex. Her fingers were dripping with his warm jism. She raised her hand and held it just below her nose.
"You know, I love the aroma of your sweet semen. I love it almost as much as I love the flavor of it."
Raising the hand with its heavy white dripping to her mouth she began to lick off the thick white goo. Occasionally she made little appreciative animal sounds as she licked and sucked the last drops of his spent sex from her hand.
"Boy, whoever called that franchised fried chicken 'finger-lickin' good' has obviously never tasted your dong delicacy," she purred as she dried her fingers and palm with her lips and tongue.
Frankie now extracted his juicy middle finger from her creaming cunt and repeated the procedure. Inhaling deeply, he plunged the coated digit into his mouth and sucked it dry. After removing the final vestige of her sex juices from his finger, he removed it from his mouth and held it out on display to her.
"Finger-lickin' good, indeed," he commented, and they smiled knowingly at each other.
The late-late show turned out to be less en grossing. Midway through the dull picture Frankie hit the remote control and darkened the boob-tube. Then he got up, extended his hands to his lovely aunt, and led her to bed. This time, without distractions, they did it right. Then they fell asleep, their bodies pressed tight together.
Sometimes Grace thought that they were almost too closely attuned. They liked the same foods, drinks, and even television programs. There was only one exception in this last category and that was a thorn in Grace's side. Frankie was an inveterate fight fan, and she detested any form of brutality. Every week when he turned on the fights, she would do her best to distract his attention from the TV screen. She would parade around in the nude making frequent trips between him and the TV set. She would spread her legs, with her back to him, and bend 'way over to pick up an imaginary piece of thread from the carpet so as to thoroughly display the pink gash in the auburn-furred horse collar, as well as the tan Cyclop's eye that seemed to wink at him. If these diversionary tactics didn't work she would sit in his lap or open his robe and either stroke or nibble on his prick until he picked up the remote-control unit and nipped the set off and got on with the more mutually enjoyable entertainment of throwing a real good fuck into her.
One night there was a particularly interesting card of boxing events and none of her tricks seemed to work. Grace considered this as a challenge to her sex appeal. She knelt between Frankie's legs and stroked on his cock until it was fully hard and erect. She expected him to click off the set then, but still the fights droned on. She jerked violently on the stiff rod. When this didn't work she gave him little butterfly flicks with her tongue all up and down and around and sucked on the drooling head of his dong. In desperation she pressed her big tits to the sides and squeezed them together with her hands, then moved up and down, masturbating him with the soft cool flesh of her breasts. Even this tit-fucking did not tear him away from his beloved fights tonight.
How much more of this can he take? she wondered as she smothered his roaring hard-on in her soft tit-flesh.
Her answer wasn't long in coming. She felt the swelling and the convulsive twitching, and then came the awareness of a warm, sticky pool of his semen that had ejaculated between her boobs. Instead of getting mad at him for shooting his load of jism all over the lovely tits that she was so proud of, Grace actually seemed pleased at this ultimate compliment to her chest charms. Raising up on her knees before him she dipped her fingers into the white goo and began massaging it into her nipples, areolas, and as much of the lily-white skin of her breasts as it would cover.
Frankie reached out with his foot and massaged that gigantic pubic muff of hers with his toes. She seemed to enjoy it, and soon he worked his big toe into her juicy grocket and wiggled it into the hot, wet vulva. She squirmed and groaned in delight. By twisting his foot so much that his ankle nearly snapped, he managed to position it in her crotch to the point that he could keep digging his big toe into her vulva while he tickled and massaged her growing clit with his little toe. Grace was really writhing now. Finally she reached over and took the remote unit and turned off the fucking fights.
"Maybe you can concentrate on two things at once but I'm a typical woman: I have strictly a one-track mind. The only left jabs I'm interested in right now are those your toes give my cunt."
It wasn't long until the sex spasms hit her as she orgasmed wildly to the foot-fucking that Frankie was giving her.
In bed later, just as they were about to go to sleep, Grace got the giggles.
"Okay," Frankie prodded her, "what's the poor man's Phyllis Diller thought of now?"
"It just occurred to me that we must finally have come to the end of the line in the area of thinking up new variations on the sex theme. Both those crazy deals tonight were pretty far out. From now on there's nothing new under the sex sun for us."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that. We haven't yet tried it in the Goodyear blimp, on water skis or while skin diving in clear tropical waters ... just to mention a few remaining possibilities."
"That's my boy! Never a dull moment around that dexterous dong of yours. At least you've given me something to dream about."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Grace was still thirty-two when Frankie had his seventeenth birthday. They celebrated it quietly, alone together, the way they did everything else these days. Neither of them had any outside friends. On this occasion they went to a little local Chinese restaurant. Their one brief encounter with Monsieur Pierre had turned them off on the idea of expensive eating places. They much preferred putting their money into permanent possessions that they could both continue to enjoy month after month.
Midway through the egg rolls Grace went into one of her fits of chuckling and Frankie knew she was having another of her comic thoughts that she always shared with him. He had come to look forward to these funny flashes of hers.
"What is it this time, Funny Girl?"
"I was just thinking that up until today you were sixteen and I was thirty-two, just twice as old as you. I was exactly your age then when you were born. Today you're seventeen and I'm still thirty-two. You've narrowed the generation gap between us by a year. Maybe if I stay real still and promise not to have any more birthdays I can just wait for you to catch up with me. Maybe I can even speed up the process. Most women when they reach thirty begin lying about their age and take off a year every birthday instead of adding it on. If I adopt that policy I can soon drop back to twenty-seven. Then we'll only be ten years apart. The next year you'll be eighteen and I'll be twenty-six. Four years after that we'll be even."
"Thank you, Madame Einstein, for your feminine version of the law of relativity, butT am quite content to let things stand just the way they are. You are my woman and I am your man and the age difference doesn't mean a damn thing to me. I love you, Grace, and I want you. That is all that really matters, isn't it?"
"I'm sorry, Frankie. I surely didn't mean to hurt you. It's just that now and then this question of age difference comes home to roost. A lot of people still look at me like I was your mother and, frankly, I resent it. I keep trying to tell myself that it isn't fair either to you or to me. After all, you can't help being as young as you are and I can't help being as old as I am. It's just that every now and then I can't help but resent it. There are times that I am hurt by it and I suppose there are times that you are, too. Forgive me, darling. I know that I'm not being fair to you, but stop to think about it. All you have to do is wait and you'll get older, but for all of my tears, patience and waiting, I'll never get younger. The whole deal just isn't fair to either of us." She faltered near the end of her little speech and then she began to cry.
Frankie began to think that every time they tried to go out on the town together, it seemed to wind up this way. People could be so cruel about something that was basically so beautiful. They just didn't seem to understand or to care. Oh well, fuck 'em, who needed 'em? They had enough going for them that they didn't need other people. So maybe he was just a wet-behind-the-ears teenage kid who had latched onto a mature sex goddess type. Whose business was it other than theirs? As, at last, his mind put into words the question and spelled out the problem that had been bugging him, the answer flashed back as if by magic.
It was quite understandable, even natural, that the sexual liaison in which he and Grace were involved should make them hated outcasts of society. The men all looked at Grace and related her image to that of Raquel Welch or Ann Margaret and then saw that she was wasting all of her alluring sexiness on that lousy brat with her. Out of a jealousy born of lust, they were both outcast by the males. The women, meanwhile, with typical feminine logic, hated Grace first because she was so much lovelier and sexier than they and because she was lucky enough, or gutsy enough, to have a handsome, virile young stud who could service her every sexual whim as frequently as they might occur, while they were saddled with guys, usually older than themselves, who thought that they were taking great care of their wives sexually if they managed to get it up once or twice a week. All women past thirty have secret desires and natural tendencies toward pedophelia, but rare and fortunate indeed are the few who have the opportunity and nerve to put these desires into practice, as Grace had.
In spite of Grace's protestations against any further birthdays, she had her thirty-third the following March. Frankie had his driver's license by then and had spent his after-school hours for weeks shopping for a car to give her for the occasion. He had already become accustomed to being a man of wealth and had learned to develop the habits of financial conservatism which mark the truly affluent of our society. He reasoned that since they had limited use for a car it would be foolhardy to tie up thousands of dollars in a brand-new car that would depreciate rapidly in value. After all, any newer, better, used car would be a tremendous improvement on the tired, beat-up old Chevy that showed signs of being on its last legs. He finally settled on a six-year-old Cadillac Coupe de Ville in absolutely cherry condition. It was white with a black padded vinyl top and all red leather interior. It looked like a chariot fit for a queen, and that's just what he intended it for. Neither he nor Grace were too knowledgeable about cars or that sharp on style changes, so to them it would be just as thrilling as a brand-new car. The best part of the deal was that he didn't have to deplete his savings account too drastically since he negotiated it down to seven hundred dollars plus the old clunker. He arranged to pick it up after school on Grace's birthday. When the dealer learned that it was to be a birthday present to his aunt he offered to have it freshly waxed and to spray the interior with some special chemical that would give it that wonderful new car smell.
When the big day arrived he told her that he needed the old car that day since he had to do some after school chores for his home room teacher. He pretended that he had completely forgotten her birthday. Even in his youth he realized that women don't celebrate birthdays after thirty, anyway. They just sit home and cry a lot during the day.
Once he had the car safely in his possession he stopped by a drugstore and dialed their home number: "Grace, get dressed up real pretty. For some reason I feel like going out to dinner tonight. We haven't been out on the town in a long time."
"That's not necessary, Frankie. It's no special occasion." She spoke the last words with a little air of self-pity. "Besides, I already have some filet of sole cooking for our dinner."
"Fuck the fish. Feed it to the neighbor's cat. I feel like eating out. I'll be home in a half hour and you'd better be ready to go." With that he hung up before she could give him any further static.
His next stop was the local florist, where he ordered a huge spray of thirty-three longstemmed American beauty roses and a long red ribbon with Happy Birthday pasted on it in gummed gold letters. It took a little while to prepare to his very special specifications. With the flowers safely on the seat beside him he drove home with the extra care that one always exercises when driving home a new car for the first time. It seemed to him as if all the other drivers were aiming at him. Pulling quietly into the driveway, he spread the spray of thirtythree roses with their fern background across the shiny white hood of the cadillac and carefully taped the Happy Birthday ribbon across them. They stretched from fender to fender across the broad hood. Satisfied with his efforts and grateful that there was no wind tonight to disarrange them, he entered the house he shared with his aunt-mistress.
Grace was standing at the bar sipping on a double old-fashioned glass full of martini. She always looked good but tonight she looked good enough to eat. Frankie made a mental note to do just that, later.
"You're late. I thought maybe I'd been stood up," she mumbled. "Here, have a drink and make a toast with me."
She handed him a glass and then raised her own.
"Happy birthday to me! At least I remembered," she announced in a mixture of drunkenness and bitterness.
"Oh, Grace, how could I have been so stupid? Can you ever forgive me? Please believe, darling, I love you and I am usually thoughtful. It's just that this last semester in school has me to where I don't know if I'm coming or going. Here, let's dump this martini and go out. The occasion calls for champagne."
When Grace saw the car with the flowers and the ribbon she became completely unglued. For long moments she was completely speechless. When at last she found her voice she was so moved by the gift that she couldn't even mention the car. Instead she mumbled stupidly: "I'd better get these flowers into some water." With this she scooped up the full armload of roses and took them into the house.
Frankie wondered if she had even recognized that they were on the white Cadillac instead of the old green Chevy. Oh well, women were all nuts and sentimental slobs at times like this. Treat them rotten and they give you a big smile. Do something nice for them and they burst into tears.
When ten minutes passed and she had still not returned to properly see and appreciate her present, he decided he had better check on her. The silly goop might have simply crawled into bed with her roses. Broads are like kids. Give them an expensive gift and they always have more fun playing with the box it came in than the item itself. When he walked into their little living room it looked like a funeral parlor. The roses were everywhere.
"Hey, look, baby, you can play with your flowers later. Right now I'm so hungry I could eat a yardful of worms. C'mon, you haven't even looked at your present yet."
From the blank look on her face Frankie knew that his aunt had not seen beyond the roses. Now he took her hand and led her out the door. She stared in utter disbelief at the luxurious car. She approached it cautiously, as though fearing it would go away, and then reached out and touched it to see if it was really real. Slowly she circled it, taking in every beautiful feature. When she came to the driver's side Frankie held the door open for her and handed her the special gold-plated key he had gotten the dealer to have made for the occasion.
"Welcome to your new chariot, Cinderella," he said, as she slid beneath the wheel.
"Frankie, I'm afraid to drive it. It's too big and too beautiful. What if I do something wrong?"
"Nonsense. It's a real baby buggy-practically drives itself. Besides, you've got to get used to it. It's the only car you've got now. To show that I have perfect faith in you I won't even fasten my seat belt and I'll hide my hands so that you can't see the white knuckles if you scare me to death."
Driving the Cad as carefully as though she were carrying a trunkful of nitroglycerine, Grace eased her way out to Route 25-A and they headed to the right and farther out onto the North Shore of Long Island. After a while Frankie suggested that she make a U turn and pull into the old Paul Revere Manor. He explained that the place where he had planned that they dine was much farther out on the Island and that perhaps they should break the long trek with a drink.
The ancient inn appeared to be unchanged from Colonial times. They turned left into the tavern bar with its wide pine plank flooring and scrubbed and waxed pine furniture. Frankie held and adjusted one of the bar stools for Grace and then slid onto the adjoining one. They were both so filled with the ecstatic happiness of the moment that they were completely oblivious to the icy scowl of disapproval with which the bartender had regarded their entrance. His jaundiced eye had taken in every detail of the older woman's sexy beauty and despised her for wasting all that lust-luster on that callow youth when a real man like himself was so readily available. He was already in a real black-ass mood anyway and the entry of this odd couple didn't improve it. It had been a lousy, dead evening. The entire cocktail hour had put only five bucks in the register and sixty cents in his tip jar. Why the fuck was it always his luck to work these joints that were long on atmosphere and short of action? This May-September duo would probably order a couple of beers and the kid might, with luck, be good for a fifteen-cent tip. He should have gone South with Tony and worked Miami for the season instead of staying here on the Island to suffer and starve amidst the snow and the slush until the summer crowds returned. All of these thoughts spun like a kaleidoscope around his mind as he approached the Castoria-Serutan pair who were the only customers at the bar. Something in the exuberance of their expressions told him that there was some kind of hanky-panky between them that transcended the bounds of good clean family fun. He wondered if they were mother and son and chuckled inwardly, wondering what their reaction might be if he asked the lad: "What's your pleasure, motherfucker?" Instead he placed two cocktail napkins before them and smiled: "What'll it be tonight, folks?"
Grace was on the verge of ordering a martini but Frankie cut her off, saying: "We'd like two double champagne cocktails, made with imported, not domestic, champagne."
Something in Frankie's voice caught the bartender's attention. He looked at him more closely. Perhaps this guy wasn't of age. Now he was really on the horns of a dilemma. This one drink order would double the till for tonight and help to keep the old bitch who owned the place happy and they might even lay a flag on him for a tip. On the other hand, all he needed was static from the ABC if an inspector should stop in and catch him serving a minor. He determined to play it straight, which was, in itself, a determination against his usual policies.
"May I see your I.D., sir?" he asked Frankie, trying to make it sound like mere routine procedure.
"Why, of course," Frankie smiled, reaching for his wallet. His newly acquired driver's license was in plain view in the little plastic pocket but he reached instead into a longer opening, pulled out a ten-dollar bill and passed it to the man, laughing. "I'm afraid the picture looks more like Alexander Hamilton than me, but it is the best I.D. I have. If you keep it and look at the picture in the daylight tomorrow, I'm sure you will agree that it is just the way you re member me as looking." Replacing the billfold in his pocket he turned his attentions back to Grace as a suddenly happy bartender devoted his very best efforts to preparing two double imported champagne cocktails.
"Hey, you're getting to be a pretty smooth operator," Grace whispered after the little episode was closed.
"Why not? Look what a smoothie I've had for a teacher," he grinned as he squeezed her thigh.
The drinks were perfect and there was even a little bonus left in the bottle after they finished them. The check was seven-fifty. Frankie left a ten to cover it. As they were leaving, the bartender, beaming now, called after them: "Thank you, folks. You nice people come back and see us again soon ... real soon."
Hell, with three or four swinging customers like that in this Revolutionary era firetrap he could start living like a white man. Maybe that kid wasn't so bad after all. A twelve-fifty tip and the couple hadn't been in the place a half hour. What this joint needed was more motherfuckers among their clientele. Shit, for that kind of money he'd even let the kid screw his old lady.
Grace and Frankie seemed to glide along the highway, the Cad was so much quieter and smoother than the Chevy had been. They passed the stately old mansions of the robber barons of a bygone age and eventually made their way to Cold Spring Harbor. Frankie spotted the red neon sign indicating The Mooring, which had been recommended to him. He had Grace pull in and, somewhat reluctantly, surrender her newly acquired pride and joy to the parking lot attendant.
"You be real careful with that, now," Grace warned the boy. "It's brand-new."
New? the attendant thought. His training had taught him to spot the year and model of any car from a mile away. He looked at Grace as if she was some kind of nut.
"Well, that is, it's brand-new to me," she explained in answer to the unasked question as she beamed broadly at the boy.
"Yes, ma'am, I understand how you feel. Don't worry. I'll give it a real wide berth," he grinned.
The Mooring was every bit as charming as Frankie's teacher had described it to him. It was a chilly evening and the big roaring open fire looked very inviting. The restaurant was built out over the harbor adjacent to the yacht basin. The lights from these floating status symbols reflected and danced in the cold dark waters of Long Island Sound. The atmosphere was very nautical with huge ship's wheels, hatch-cover tables, and comfortable captain's chairs. When the headwaiter approached them Frankie extended his hand and introduced himself. As they shook hands the tuxedo-clad man palmed the folded five without a flicker of expression.
"We'd like a view table at the windows near the fireplace," Frankie specified in the smooth, self-assured manner that seems to accompany wealth.
"Right this way, Mr. Powers."
Grace was enthralled with the view of the harbor and its assorted fleet of sleek private craft and with the cheery warmth of the open fire. As soon as they were settled their waiter approached with the largest menu either of them of them had ever seen. Frankie placed the menus to one side and ordered two more of his special champagne cocktails ... doubles. The waiter looked a trifle dubious and Frankie saw him check with the maitre d' on his way to the bar. He indicated their table and the boss waiter merely dismissed him with a nod. A few minutes later their cocktails arrived.
As they sipped their drinks, Grace looked as radiant as a tilted pinball machine in the flickering firelight. She had never been happier than tonight, and happiness has a way of making any woman more beautiful. Frankie delighted in basking in her reflected joy. He was dedicated to spending the rest of his life catering to her every whim.
"Would you care to order now, Mr. Powers?" the headwaiter inquired, checking on their table. The waiter stood nearby, order pad and pen poised.
"Excellent idea," Frankie replied. "I would like to order two more of these excellent drinks. Beyond that I would like for you to order everything else. It is a special occasion-the lady's birthday-so make sure we have the very best of everything. This is our first visit to your establishment. I'm sure that you will include the house's best specialties in order to insure that it is not our last."
"Just leave everything to me, sir." As the headwaiter left them he was already dictating the order to the waiter.
The dinner was a culinary masterpiece. They both agreed that it was the most superb meal of their lives. They started off with fresh oysters Rockefeller, followed by a wonderful clam chowder made with wine. The entree was a huge lobster thermidor served with a hot wilted lettuce and spinach salad with tiny bits of broiled bacon and croutons. They washed this down with a mild white wine, very dry, until neither of them thought they could hold another bite. Then the dessert arrived. The chef had outdone himself with two of the most perfect baked Alaskas ever made. From the very peak of the toasted meringue of Grace's protruded one lighted birthday candle. For an after-dinner drink there was a major production prepared at their table, a cafe diabolo served flambe. When they had drained their cups, Frankie smiled across the table at her.
"Happy, my dear?"
"Divinely. If I were a kitten I'd purr for you now. You have made this the most wonderful birthday any woman ever had. How can I ever thank you?"
"You'll think of something," he grinned as they exchanged the kind of meaningful glance that speaks volumes to two people in love. Then he glanced at his watch. "My God, no wonder I feel so stuffed. Do you know we've been eating steadily for over two hours!"
"My stomach feels more like it's been two weeks," she laughed. "Promise me we won't do this oftener than once a year. You wouldn't love me if I weighed three hundred pounds."
"I know just what you mean. I feel that I would soon look like King Farouk myself on this bill of fare."
The headwaiter approached them now, asking: "Was everything satisfactory, Mr. Powers?"
"Wonderful," Frankie beamed as he passed him a ten-dollar bill.
"Superb," Grace echoed.
"I would like to express my compliments to the chef," Frankie added.
"Of course, Mr. Powers." The headwaiter headed for the kitchen, marveling at the savoir faire of this young man still in his teens. It was not hard to see how he could attract a gorgeous hunk of woman like the broad with him. He had caught himself staring at her all night. He'd give a week's pay plus tips to dunk his dickey in that just one time. A few minutes later he returned to the table with a florid-faced fat man in white, proudly wearing the high cap of a chief chef.
"Mr. Powers, and Madame, this is Marcel, your chef."
The man in white bowed formally and obviously enjoyed the feeling that his culinary efforts were being appreciated and complimented.
"Marcel, you are a master chef among master chefs. That was the most marvelous meal we have ever had. I offer you my compliments." Frankie extended his hand which hid a folded ten as the fat man beamed at the rare recognition and reward for his long hours of toil in the hot kitchen.
The parking lot attendant delivered their car almost as soon as they stepped outside the door. Grace walked all around it, inspecting for damage. Only when she was satisfied did she slide under the wheel. Then the attendant held the right-hand door open for Frankie, who tipped him three dollars. On the way home he ran up a little mental tape of the evening's expenditures. They had been extravagant but it does one good to go all out now and then. Tomorrow he'd go bafck on his usually conservative budget. This was to be a night to remember.
The car rode as smoothly as though the road were glass as they made their way back toward town. Frankie reached down and turned on the radio and tuned in some soft, sexy music. Grace reached over and patted him right on the cock. Her touch always made it twitch and grow a little.
"Hey, knock that off. You're not used to the car yet. You'd better concentrate all of your attention upon driving."
"Killjoy," she pouted.
Shortly after they had crossed the boundary line that separates Nassau County from the Borough of Queens, she took a turn to the right, rather than to the left, which led home.
"Hey, you turned the wrong way. Better turn around as soon as you can. Home's back the other way."
"I'm not taking you home, Frankie. Not yet, anyway. We've got to christen the car first."
"You don't mean to tell me you plan to bust a bottle of champagne on the hood, do you?"
"Hell, no. I have a much better christening ceremony planned."
They drove in silence for some minutes. Frankie was not familiar with this area but obviously his aunt knew where she was going. At last she pulled into a huge deserted parking lot beneath the Whitestone Bridge. She came to a stop at the far end of the lot where they could watch the planes approaching La Guardia field for landings.
"How do you move the seat back?" she asked, feeling-around for the old manual release lever like the Chevy had.
"It's electric. Just press back on that center switch on the door panel."
She was delighted with the soft purring sound as the seat moved all the way back to the rear of its track. Then she slid over and dropped to the floor at his feet. Unzipping his fly she gently removed his momentarily limp prick and balls and cradled them in her soft cool hands as she pressed her face down to nuzzle against them.
"I'm going to eat you up," she warned as she gave the tip of his cock a little tentative nibble and flicked her tongue around it.
"Who's fighting you?" he grinned down at her. "You know I'm much too polite to argue with a lady."
She swooped his entire soft cock into her mouth. Now that it was less than half the size it would soon attain she had no trouble containing it all within the cool damp confines of her oral cavity. It expanded rapidly as she sucked her cheeks in against it and did a ritual dance with her tongue all around and up and down the ingested member. She delighted at each little twitch that signaled further growth. On a sudden impulse she withdrew her mouth from the half-erect cock and dropped to the base of it, scooping his balls into her mouth. Her tongue and lips drove him into fits of ecstatic agony as she licked and sucked on his swallowed testicles while she gently stroked his now fully expanded prick. Frankie wished that she had two mouths so that she could suck his cock and his balls at the same time. Tonight it was his testicles that she seemed to crave. She kept sucking and licking and gently chewing on them until he thought he would go mad. Her tongue played on the now fully inflated urethral gland that led from his balls to the tip of his swollen prick. He was sure that he was going to blow his load right into her freshly done hair any second now. Grace felt it too because at the very last moment she plopped his enthralled balls out of her mouth and slid her cool lips over the inflamed glans of his near-bursting cock and tickled the frenulum with her tongue just as he moaned and gushed forth a huge shot of his manly white starch into her demanding mouth. He could tell that she was being careful not to swallow it.
When his trembling had ceased and she was content that she had extracted it all, she carefully slid her lips off the spent helmet, closing them slightly as she released him and finally pressing them tightly together as he escaped her mouth completely. Now she opened the door and struggled out of the car on her knees, finally getting to her feet outside. Frankie thought that after the copious quantities of rich food and drinks, she was about to throw up. Instead she gave him a tight-lipped smile and took his hand and led him from the car also. Silently she led him to the front of the car. Bending over the hood she opened her mouth and let his entrapped come trickle out in a long, thick, white stream to fall and strike the hood of the car right over the enameled Cadillac emblem. As it coated and overflowed this it trickled down to be caught in a shimmering pool at the apex of the wide "V" below.
"I christen thee 'Dreamboat' and wish you a long and happy journey through our lives," she smiled. Turning to Frankie, she asked, "There now, isn't that a lot more appropriate than champagne?" She was obviously proud of her erotic christening plan.
"Yeah, I guess so. I just wonder what the boys at the car wash will think when they try to scrub hardened jism off of the hood. They'll most likely make some crack about those fucking Cadillacs."
Suddenly Frankie realized that he was standing out in a public parking lot with his cock and balls hanging out. He reached to replace them in his pants but Grace grabbed his hand.
"Oh, no, you don't. I'm riot through with you yet. I warned you I was going to eat you up tonight. That first load was for the car. Now I want you to build up a real big offering of your sweet come for your Auntie Grace." She led him back to the car. They both recognized, but neither of them mentioned, the slip on her part of referring to their formal family relationship. Seldom these days did they think of each other as aunt and nephew but only as man and woman, lover and mistress; sometimes as husband and wife.
Grace sucked voraciously and demandingly on his drained balls and limp prick. She even worked one finger up his asshole and pulled him closer to her mouth. Slowly, the sleeping giant began to stir and awaken until at last it stood rigidly at attention out of respect for her superb performance.
"Oh yes, Gracie, suck my cock. Suck it real good and drain out every drop of my hot jism. I love to feel your sweet lips on my throbbing prick and I love it most of all when you make me come in your mouth."
She patted his balls gently and shoved her finger all the way into his asshole as if to express appreciation for his words. She had learned now to go all the way down on him to where her lips buried themselves in his stiff pubic hairs without any feeling of strain or discomfort. Then she would slowly pull all the way up to where she almost left him and then work down again, varying the strokes in speed and depth. Occasionally she would raise all the way off him and just lick the trembling glans and up and down the big urethral gland along the bottom length of his shaft while she caught her breath before taking his prick into her mouth again and going down so far on it that it would plug her throat.
Tonight she knew that she was doing an especially good job of cocksucking for her lover-boy. She could tell by the way he was breathing and the quiet little moans of pleasure that escaped his lips when she did something that he found unusually thrilling. As she pistoned her lips up and down the full length of that yummy Yule log of flesh, he ran his fingers gently through her hair. Her tongue never stopped flicking around and along him as she sucked first softly and slowly, then strong and fast and then slowing to a near standstill. The telltale swelling of his glans and rapid pulsating of the tightly filled urethral gland made her realize that she was soon to be rewarded with his sweet, delicious semen. She felt herself begin to tremble in anticipation as she squeezed his swollen balls and sawed her finger in and out of his asshole just as he clutched her head and forced the exploding head of his prick even farther down her throat as he erupted the hot white lava of love in four distinct blasts into her soft moist oral receptacle.
Grace moaned with pleasure as he poured forth his manhood into her wanton mouth and throat. Her mouth was flooded with the salty sweet flavor of his ambrosia which, to her, was even more of a dessert treat than the baked Alaska had been. Her mouth and the muscles of her throat worked on his spewing cock like a crazy milking machine as she made sure that he had not held back a single drop of his precious ball brandy. Even after he collapsed beneath her face, fully deflated, she kept sucking and licking on the shrinking spent prick until, at last, it plopped limply from her mouth.
He was as weak as a baby now and there was obviously little else she could do to or for him other than to drive him home. She slid back beneath the wheel, touched the little lever that moved the seat forward to where she could reach the pedals, and turned on the ignition. All the way home Frankie lay back against the seat with his eyes closed. She thought that he was asleep. Actually he was merely trying to hang on to the wondrous feelings that her mouth had given to his cock and balls on this memorable evening.
At home, Frankie helped Grace maneuver the big new car into the small old garage. It took her ten minutes with them both checking each side as she slowly worked it in. There was scarcely enough room for her to open the door and get out once she had it safely inside, but at least the garage door closed, allowing her to keep it locked in.
The little house smelled like a rose garden from the thirty-three roses that filled all of the vases and even a few milk bottles. Grace thought it was terribly romantic. Frankie thought it smelled like a Parisian whorehouse, but then he guessed that was well within the realm of the romantic, too. From underneath the bar Grace extracted a dust-covered bottle of brandy.
"I'm much too excited to sleep, at least for a while yet. I want this perfect evening to last forever. All day long I felt sorry for myself, thinking that you had forgotten my birthday. Then tonight you made everything so perfect. I guess I'm the luckiest woman in the whole world, having you with all of your kind, considerate, generous qualities and sex too."
"I'll drink to that," Frankie laughed, "that is, if you think that dust-covered stuff is fit to drink. It probably turned to vinegar years ago."
"Only one way to find out," Grace smiled. "I don't have real brandy glasses, so we'll have to make do with the double martini glasses."
"Tough tittie! You needn't have told me. I wouldn't know a brandy glass if it cut me. I'm sure it can't change the taste of the stuff."
"We'll soon find out," she laughed, pouring two husky slugs into the martini glasses.
"Hey, Grace, this stuff is damned good. I'm going to get into my robe and slippers and settle down to some serious celebrating."
When he returned Grace was still in her party dress, sipping on her brandy and looking very happy with life in general.
"I thought you'd slip out of that dress by now. We're not going out again tonight, you know."
"I can't slip out of it, as you put it. I ate so much tonight I feel like I'd been poured into it. Besides, when I was getting dressed tonight the damned old zipper broke so I sewed myself into it. There's only one way to get me out of it now. You'll have to tear it off me! Isn't that exciting?" she teased. "Haven't you often had the secret desire to just walk up to a woman and rip the clothes off her back, stripping her stark naked with your two bare hands?"
"You make it sound mighty inviting, but it's such a pretty dress. Can't you just cut the threads and unsew yourself out of it?"
"Absolutely not. Besides, it's an old rag, anyway. I want you to tear it off me." She sidled over to him with that provocative walk of hers, swinging her hips, pivoting her pelvis forward to where he could see the vast patch of snatch shrubbery through the thin material. Then she thrust those huge tits out until he thought they would do the ripping for him. Within his easy grasp lay an opportunity that any man who had seen her tonight would have gladly traded both eye teeth for. Frankie reached out with both hands and clutched the fabric at the neckline.
"Okay, you asked for it. Here we go, ready or not." With a vicious rip he tore the flimsy material from neckline to hem. Her lovely big tits sprang up like two submerged balloons suddenly released and popping up through the surface of the water. A long thread hung from her hairy bush, like a party ribbon caught in a thick hedge. A thrill swept through him that was like seeing her bare flesh for the first time. He stared awe-struck at the beauty that his tear had exposed.
"Don't stop now. I don't want to take it off like a robe. Rip off the sleeves, the shoulders, the back-everything. I want to feel you tear off my dress piece by piece." She was breathing heavily and flushed with excitement at the new experience.
"It's quite likely that the dress won't be all I'll tear off piece by piece," Frankie warned her, feeling the stirrings of a newly developing hard-on beneath his robe.
Next came the left sleeve and then the right, and then the material across the shoulders and down the back until the tatters of the once lovely dress lay shredded about her ankles. He took her in his arms then and felt her press that crazy pelvis up to force her cunt against his prick as the big tits flattened against his chest as they had that day at Grand Central Station so many eons ago now. Their tongues sought each other's and they were breathing deeply and passionately. Pulling himself away, Frankie fell to his knees before her, clutched her lovely buttocks and drew that huge muff of auburn cunthair to his face, where he nuzzled into it like a little pig wallowing in his favorite mudhole. He inhaled deeply, savoring the heady perfume of her sex, which was, to him, more intoxicating than the brandy. At last he guided her into a lovers' fall into the large comfortable chair as he spread her legs and crawled between them, his face still glued to her furry furrow.
"Open up wide, baby, and relax. Now I'm the one who's going to eat you up. It's my lovely Aunt Grace's turn to get her sweet cunt chewed out and her little horny nephew is just the one to do it." He spread her pussy lips wide and approached the honeypot inside with his mouth.
"Like you said before, Frankie, who's fighting you? Just one thing, though, dearest. Suck my tits first. They're so sensitive and when you suck and chew on them you get me so ready I can't stand it. Come up here and suck auntie's big tits for a while and get the nipples all hard and swollen to where they hurt. Then go down and eat my cunt. Okay?"
"Your slightest wish is my command," he mumbled, scrambling from his cross-legged squat to his knees and pressing his face into the deep valley between the lovely twin peaks. He knew that he could happily smother to death in those massive mounds of soft cool chest flesh. He cupped her left breast in both hands and began kissing and licking on it as he kneaded the tender dough of her womanhood and kissed his way slowly to the rosebud pink areola. He kissed and licked the little patches of gooseflesh-like bumps that surrounded the tender nipple. Grace moaned with pleasure as he orally caressed the highly erogenous area. He flicked the nipple back and forth with his tongue and ever so slowly sucked it into his mouth while she went wild with passion. He could feel her squirming around in the chair beneath him. He began to chew gently on the tender nipple as he slowly lowered one hand to her crotch. It was creamy with hot joy juices, and he slid two fingers easily into the deep warm tunnel as he chewed away on her nipple that was hard and swollen now.
Just as he was about to transfer his attentions to its twin she clasped his head and held him fast onto that swollen throbbing nipple that felt like it was going to pop out of its delicate skin. She let out a loud quavering moan as she gasped: "Oh, Frankie, baby, I'm coming. You're making me come just by sucking on my breast. Ohhhhhh ... it's heaven." As if to prove her point the soft walls of her cunt clutched and squeezed at his embedded fingers as the muscular spasms of her orgasm hit her like a prolonged jolt of electrical shock. Only long after the last contortion had threatened to break his fingers with the ferocity of their grasp did she release his head and urge it over to her other breast.
"Suck my other tit just as good now, Frankie. Let's see if you can make me come again just by sucking on this tit like you did with the other."
He repeated the full treatment. The tender kneading, the caresses, and the slow spiral of kisses and licking that centered in on the pink-framed nipple. Spotting the glass of brandy on the chairside table, he reached for it and allowed a few drops to trickle over her nipple and the surrounding areola. He licked and sucked this off, .enjoying the mixed flavor of both woman and grape. He repeated this procedure half a dozen times and the nipple swelled and hardened as she got her tit hard-on. He nibbled and chewed gently on the tender erection as he flicked his tongue around it and worked his lips up and down in short strokes, trying to imitate some of the exciting things she had done to his own erection when she had given him head earlier tonight in the car. His fingers remained motionless in her hot wet cunt. It would be cheating to help her along with them. The idea was to bring her to orgasm simply by sucking and chewing on her sensitive breast. At last he knew that victory was in sight. She squirmed and moaned and clutched at his head, seeming to want him to get still more of her tit in his mouth.
"Ah, yes, Frankie. You're going to get it. You're going to make me come again just by titsucking me. Easy now, don't get rough. Keep it slow and gentle and keep your tongue going just like I do when I have your prick in my mouth. That's it ... just like that. You've almost got it now. Don't stop. For God's sake, don't stop now and don't change a single thing ... just like that. Yes, here it is ... I'm coming. I wish I could come out of my nipple right into your mouth the way you do in mine. Feel it, baby ... here it is. Ahhhhhhh ... whew!"
Again her vaginal walls clutched and squeezed at his fingers that were in her to their very hilts. This spasm seemed even more severe and prolonged than the first. At last she released his head. He was breathless and wanted a moment's reprieve before going down on that sodden, smoldering snatch. He struggled to his feet and sipped at his brandy while he caught his breath. Grace took her brandy in one hand and cupped his balls with the other. She urged him closer. Holding her brandy glass close to him she took the head of his cock and dipped the semi-erect member head deep into the strong liquor. Frankie felt a momentary sting as some of the liquid got into the slit but then she had extracted it and was licking and sucking it off his cock. Then she ducked the glans again in the heavy amber liquid and licked and sucked as he grew an inch with each new treatment.
Now he was fully hard and she dipped her fingers into the brandy and coated the length of his shaft with it and went back to licking and sucking it dry, only to coat it again and repeat the erotically thrilling procedure. At last she tired of the brandy and set it down on the table. Now, grasping his buttocks with both hands, she pulled his big hard prick deeper and deeper into her mouth as she worked her lips over the engorged flesh from tip to base while her tongue did its little butterfly flicks along the swollen vein that ran the length of the bottom side of his trembling cock. She gobbled his meat like a woman possessed, demanding one more mouthful of the sweet hot jism to which she had become so hopelessly addicted. At last she felt him shudder and the glans swelled up like a puff adder about to strike. She pulled off until her lips encircled the corona just behind the purplish helmet of his armor as he flooded forth into her mouth. She intended to savor every drop of this favorite nectar as it trickled past her palate.
When she took her glass of brandy and disappeared into the bathroom, Frankie practically collapsed into the big chair. Even with the seemingly inexhaustible supply of sexual energies and juices he seemed to possess, three of those fantastic blow jobs that his aunt gave within a period of two hours was a bit much, even for him. She gave great head, that Grace, but enough was enough and sometimes even too much. Suddenly he remembered that he had promised to give head to her. He knew that creaming cunt would be dripping down her inner thighs by now. He heard the water running in the bathroom and then she let out a long low whistle. Shortly after that the toilet flushed and she returned. He got up like a true gentleman as she entered the room and she reassumed her position in the big club chair. For a moment he hoped that, after having come twice while he chewed her tits, maybe she'd be satisfied and forget the promised cunt-lapping. His hopes were soon dashed as she hooked her legs over the arms of the chair and sprawled back comfortably against the cushions while her great gash hung out over the edge of the chair in her spread-eagled pose.
"Now, let's see. Where were we?" she mumbled, egging him on, and indicating that he squat before her.
Frankie killed the last of his brandy and assumed his tailor's cross-legged squat at the foot of her chair. The gaping pink chasm before his face was opened so wide that he wondered if she planned on having him lick her belly button the hard way-from the inside.
"I've got a little surprise for you." She grinned as he moved his face close to her silken slit. He almost held his breath. After all the heat and flowing juices that his fingers had felt while he worked over her big boobs he knew that she was bound to smell a little ripe and taste a little gamy by now. In spite of the old expression that "once you get past the smell you've got it licked" he did not savor the idea of shoving his mouth and nose into a full toilet bowl. He was, therefore, delightfully surprised to discover that she had flushed away all of the stale juices and that her tender recesses now were squeaky clean and emitted a pleasant and vaguely familiar fragrance. His tongue darted eagerly and hungrily into the tender recesses of her sex center as he inhaled deeply of the essence of the soft pink tunnel.
"Like it?" she asked, patting his head gently as he glued his face to her open snatch.
"I love it. What is it?" he asked, barely removing his lips from her nether lips long enough to answer.
"I didn't want to be all ooey-gooey for you so I went in and took a brandy douche. It stung a little at first but then it made me feel all tingly inside and clean and nice to be near. I thought you'd approve. I know that cooze and booze are your two favorite flavors so I though I'd combine them for you tonight. I'm glad you approve."
"Oh, Grace, you know that I approve of every sweet and wonderful thing about you, especially that delicious little cunt of yours. You know that I'd rather eat it than apple pie."
"Okay, then, stop talking and start eating. After that wonderful working-over you gave my tits, I'm as hot as a two-dollar pistol. Go back down and eat my pussy. Lick it and suck it real good the way you always do. After all, your old aunt sucked your cock dry three times tonight and you've made me crumble my cookies twice by nibbling my tits, so you owe me one and I'm demanding payment."
Grace's cunt had always been delicious as far as Frankie was concerned, but tonight it was absolutely delectable after the brandy douche. The boy attacked it like a starving Armenian. First he licked every drop of flavor from the fleshy horse collar that separated her outer and inner vaginal lips. Then he dove into the vulva, tonguing and sucking like a wild man. Grace was not unappreciative of his efforts. Her crotch ground around like a burlesque dancer's as he darted his tongue deep inside her and sucked the flapping lips of her inner cunt into his mouth. He was not content with her pink slit alone but moved down into the tan valley of her anus and forced his tongue into that tight little tunnel, then moved millimeter by millimeter upward into the gaping gash of her femininity and finally past the deep slit and onto the little erectile pea-sized clitoris that was projecting its white stiff head out of the protective pink sheath like a turtle sticking its head out of the shell. The moment his tongue flicked against that panic button of her sex center she squirmed and moaned. When he sucked the little erectile column of her womanhood into his warm wetness of his mouth she really went mad beneath the boy's face. He licked and sucked on that most sensitive nerve center until she began to gasp in anticipation of the mammoth orgasm she knew was sweeping down upon her. At last she let out a little scream which echoed around the small room like a trapped bird as she began to shudder and tremble beneath him. The come which she experienced was both violent and prolonged. It must have been a multiple one for she clutched Frankie's head and forced it to her hot hairy hole for long minutes before the sensual contortions ceased and she finally released him.
Now, at long last, the score was evened. Each of them had been orally aroused to three full and complete climactic releases. After these totally draining experiences they fell back onto the oversized club chair in a state of sexual and physical exhaustion. Within minutes they extinguished the lights and led each other, a bit unsteadily now, to bed. There, locked in one another's arms, they fell into a deep and satiated sleep. The celebration of Grace's thirty-third birthday had been exhaustingly satisfactory.
Much later Frankie would remember that this auspicious occasion heralded more than merely another year of Grace's life. It was also the first time that he dreamed of any female other than his Aunt Grace. It wasn't really a wet dream but he attributed this to the fact that his loving aunt had ascertained that he had no more wet left in him. The girl in his dreams was Sally Johnston, one of his classmates, and the only girl his own age to whom he'd ever given a second thought. Once asleep, his subconscious mind had taken over and produced the dream in which he fantasized of sex with Sally. That dream proved to be the foreboding of ultimate disaster but, while it ran through the projector of his brain, he slept peacefully entwined with Aunt Grace, both blissfully unaware that their card castle of incest must one day collapse of its own wrongful weight.
CHAPTER NINE
The Cadillac seemed to change Grace's entire life. Suddenly she wanted to look up old friends, primarily to show off her new affluence. People she had known when she was married to Dick began to stop by the house. Most of them were older married couples. The women were all overly solicitous toward Frankie while their husbands treated him with thinly disguised contempt and made overt passes at Grace. Grace took a certain vicarious thrill in showing her old friends her fancy new kitchen appliances, furniture, color TV and the other goodies that Frankie had given her. The guys were all working stiffs, obvious payroll cowards, and the wives were clearance-sale queens and budget beavers. In their miserable treadmill existences every last quarter was accounted for.
To this miserable segment of their social sphere Grace's rich young nephew meant just two things ... free booze and an easy touch. Within a few brief weeks their privacy had disintegrated. Cocktail hour every afternoon meant anywhere from four to ten uninvited guests. Frankie found that he was spending a large share of his cash allowance that he doled out to himself from his monthly trust checks on liquor store bills. At first he was begrudgingly tolerant of the situation since he felt that perhaps Grace had missed the companionship of her contemporaries. He usually smiled at everyone and then excused himself to do his homework while they laughed and carried on in the living room. Often they stayed for dinner or suggested that they go out. On these occasions he found him self hosting a dinner party for six to ten people. Such social expenditures were foreign to his normally conservative spirit but he continued them in hopes that they were just another means of keeping Aunt Grace happy. Inwardly he felt a guilt complex that no fully developed mature woman really enjoyed being closeted with an adolescent boy.
He quickly came to realize that when the husbands tried to breach the generation gap that separated him from them and treat him as an equal and make him feel part of things this was a sure sign that he was being set up for a touch. These came in the form of a seemingly endless variety of hard luck stories. At first Frankie deluded himself with the thought that he was being a good sport but, before long, he realized that he was merely being played for a sucker. Unwittingly, Aunt Grace had invited the vultures home to roost ... on him.
When he finally learned how to say no to the touches of the husbands, the wives took over, using their womanly wiles in an attempt to separate him from his financial security. They always managed to get him alone, out of sight of Grace, and then turn on the charm. They rubbed their tits against him and a couple even patted his cock as they explained how they would do anything just to find a way out of the temporary financial bind in which they found themselves. One rather obese brunette in her late thirties even went so far as to raise her skirts and show him her big black-haired cunt bush, which was heavily intermixed with gray pubic hairs.
"Here's my collateral and the way I'll pay you interest, Frankie," she purred.
Frankie felt like throwing up. The sight had almost turned him off older women. He knew that Aunt Grace dyed her cunt hair to match the hair of her head. Now he wondered how many of those stiff curly hairs were turning gray beneath the dye.
When, shortly before midnight, he managed to sweep their "guests" out of the house, most of them quite drunk on the free liquor supply, he approached Grace.
"I think we have to talk about your freeloading friends," he stammered. He had tried to think of a nice way to approach the subject but there was none.
"Why, Frankie, I do believe you're jealous of my old friends. I can't understand why. After all, they're all terribly fond of you."
"Bullshit! They're all terribly fond of my money that they want to borrow and never repay and of the endless supply of free booze that I provide. To me they look like so many pigs with their snouts in the slop trough. They just aren't my type of people, Grace."
"But, darling boy, you are perfectly free to invite your friends here, too. Why not bring some of the little boys and girls from high school home with you and let them see the ancient woman you're fucking?" she blurted out in a drunken slur.
"It's no use, Grace, we'll discuss it tomorrow," he suggested, heading for the bedroom. He was mad and hurt but, for some crazy reason, he was also feeling especially horny tonight.
Ten minutes later Grace had still not come to bed. He needed her lush body tonight and so he went back into the living room to ask her to join him in bed. She was sitting at the little bar swilling a huge martini. Half of it escaped her mouth and drooled down into the vast cavity between her lovely tits. She seemed not to notice. She was mumbling incoherently to herself. Suddenly she seemed to have aged terribly, but Frankie's physical need for her was so intense that he dismissed this thought. More than anything else right now he wanted to have his aunt give him head in that delightfully expert fashion of hers.
"C'mon, Grace. It's very late. Let's go to beddy-by," he urged.
"Yeah, sure, drag me to bed. That's all a young stud like you wants from a woman ... fuck, fuck, fuck. All I mean to you is a cunt and a mouth. It never dawns on you that I may need some social life of my own. All these months I've been sequestered in this lousy closet of a house waiting for you to come home so that I could service that all-important cock of yours. Don't you realize, Frankie, we both need more than that from life? Remember that 'no man is an island,' as they say."
"That's a beautiful expression, Grace. Is it original?" he demanded.
"Of course not, stupid. But then I keep forgetting that you aren't yet mature enough to have studied English literature. 'No man is an island' is a line from John Donne, written about the year 1600 as part of a work he called 'Devotions XVII.' The poem is probably best known today for the fact that it was from its final lines that Ernest Hemingway took the title for one of his most popular books. The poem winds up with, 'Ask not for whom the bell tolls ... it tolls for thee.'"
"You never cease to amaze me, Grace. All that beauty and brains, too. You're just too much." He hoped the compliment might soothe her ruffled feathers a bit. She had been getting increasingly edgy since her old friends had returned to the scene. Frankie wondered if the women had talked to her about her obvious incestuous relationship with him.
"Yeah," she retorted thoughtfully, "maybe that's the trouble. Maybe I'm just too much woman for one man."
"Just what's that supposed to mean?" Suddenly Frankie was worried that perhaps one of those freeloading bastards had gotten to her body somehow while he was in school. For the first time in his life he was consumed by the fires of a lover's jealousy.
"Nothing, really. At least nothing I could expect you to understand. You have so much youth ahead of you. Mine is all behind me. I try to keep youthful-looking to please you and to maintain my own ego but I'm not really fooling anybody but myself. Tonight I was noticing Ella. Not only has she let her figure go to pot but her hair is almost half gray. She looks like an old woman. Do you know that she and I went to school together? Who in the hell am I kidding? I'm getting to be an old woman, too. It's a sad occasion for a female to face up to the fact that youth is over and that all that lies ahead of her is the torturous years of middle and old age. You probably didn't even notice Ella's hair."
Frankie had a momentary flashback of that bulbous beast raising her skirts and showing him her sloppy-looking graying cunt. Shit, he knew more about Ella's hair than Grace did. Although he didn't like to think about it, he realized that his dear Auntie would probably display similar patches of gray down there if it weren't for her weekly hair coloring ritual that kept up the matching collar and cuffs. He hated moments like this when they were brought face to face with the issue of their age differential. All those wonderful months when they had been alone together it hadn't seemed to matter. Then there was that old bastard at Sears that had thought she was his mother and now all these so-called friends who kept reminding them both that they were members of two different generations. Goddamn people, anyway! Why couldn't they just go away and leave them alone?
"C'mon, Grace, it's getting late, let's go to bed," he urged.
"Go to bed ... go to bed ... go to bed. That's all you ever think of where I'm concerned. All you really want is for me to come in there and take care of that stiff little prick of yours. That's all you care about, all I mean to you. Well, you can just trot off to bed alone, sonny. If your stupid little hard-on bothers you just go ahead and jerk off. That's what most boys your age have to rely on for sexual relief. Not all of them have a dumb old cunt of a middle-aged aunt that will run in and fuck or suck them off every time their adolescent cock hardens up. Tonight you're on your own. I'm gonna stay right here. I gotta lot of serious drinkin' an' thinkin' to do, so if it's fuckin' you had in mind go and fuck yourself!"
Frankie had never seen her in such a mood before. He searched his mind to think of anything he might have said or done to trigger this barrage. At least, he had enough common sense not to pursue the point while she was so distraught. He could not help but feel a little hurt that she seemed to feel that everything between them was based purely upon sex. Surely his generous and considerate treatment of her deserved a little more consideration, but then women, especially at this stage of life, were difficult to cope with. Pure logic did not apply at all to their reasonings and emotional reactions.
He beat a quiet retreat into the bedroom and tried vainly to sleep. For over an hour he heard the occasional clink of ice cubes as she refilled her martini glass. Carefully he reviewed the events of the evening. He had no way of knowing that after Ella had made her big play by showing him her pussy and suggesting that it would pay interest on the loan she and John needed she had reported a total failure to her husband, who had then cornered Grace and told her that she was the prime subject of neighborhood gossip because of her all too obvious sexual liaison with "that kid nephew of hers." He had gone on to suggest that Grace was too much woman to settle for a mere boy; she needed a real man, and he could arrange to be available several afternoons a week. Then he had put the bite on Grace for the five hundred that Frankie had refused to lend his wife. If only they had had faith enough to confess to one another the husband-and-wife bite that had been put on them, he and Grace could have laughed off the entire incident and this whole tempest in a teapot need never have developed.
He heard Grace bump into furniture as she staggered around the living room and then finally she turned on the stereo, a little too loud. Some inner sense told him to leave her alone and try to go to sleep. At last he did and, for the second time, dreamed of Sally Johnston. The dream gave him a full-fl-edged erection and might have culminated in a wet dream if he had not been awakened by Grace collapsing onto her side of the bed. She started to snore almost immediately. Even then, he realized that she had not fallen asleep. She had passed out ... from too many martinis.
His prick was so swollen it felt as if it would burst out of its skin if it didn't get relief soon. He reached over and petted Grace. She was out like a light. She was lying flat on her tummy and all his efforts to roll her over onto her back were to no avail. She was sheer dead weight in her present condition. His throbbing prick screamed for relief and so, after all else had failed, he straddled her buttocks and directed the head of it against the small rose-beige doughnut of her anus. She was as tight and dry as a bone and all of his thrusts were to no avail.
The demands of his own sex were irresistible. Quietly he got up off of her rump, tiptoed over to her dressing table and located a jar of cold cream. Climbing back astride those lovely cheeks of her ass, he lubricated the small rear vestibule with the heavy white cream and forced in his middle finger to lubricate as far inside as he could reach. Then he coated the head and shaft of his own rampant charger with the slippery ointment. His prick was so hot by now that it almost bubbled as he smeared it on. He aimed the mauve glans directly at the tiny tan hole and thrust downward with all of his might. Even with the dual lubrication the initial penetration was impossibly tight, but within a minute he was ball-deep in his aunt's little asshole.
It had been rough going getting it all crammed into her rosy rectum but she snored peacefully through the entire onslaught. Once his entry was complete and her rear was totally impaled on his hard, hot sabre, he relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of her rear cunthairs tickling his balls that hung between her spread thighs right against that lovely tender area. His pubic hairs were pressed flat by the tight contact of the cheeks of her ass, between which his prick had pistoned to the very bottom of her tight rear cylinder. Now, as he relaxed, fully embedded in the brown buggery of incestuous cornholing, he felt those rings of muscles within her rear tunnel that had involuntarily constricted to resist his forced entry relax and expand to welcome the hard hot intruder and assist in the anticipated onslaught. Slowly they squeezed and hugged his embedded member as if to goad it on to further and more furious invasion of this most private of woman's sex corridors. Refreshed from the initial battering-ram effort that had gained him initial entry he began to move slowly in and out of the tight hot stricture. His conscious mind realized that he was fucking his Aunt Grace up the ass but his subconscious mind still fantasized of Sally Johnston. He figured that Sally was probably a virgin. He had never fucked a virgin, but Grace's asshole was so tight that Frankie tried to pretend that it was Sally's virgin cunt.
"Oh, Sally, my darling, at last I am fucking you." He spoke aloud in the dark bedroom. In answer he heard only Grace's rhythmic snores.
He was pumping into her hard and steady now. Under normal circumstances she would have been humping her lovely ass back to him to meet every thrust into it, but tonight she lay still as a corpse. Frankie was glad because it gave him no distraction from his dream love for Sally. Sweat began to drip from his chest and splash against Grace's back. It coated her buttocks and he began to make little vacuum cup noises as he pressed tightly to her and then withdrew. It was comfortable now, just tight enough to support the image of Sally's virgin cunt. He humped away, buggering his aunt's prostrate drunken body for fully five minutes before he began to hear the roar of distant thunder, coming ever nearer, and finally a gigantic lightning bolt struck the tip of his prick, like a giant oak tree, splitting it apart as he belched forth a gigantic load of hot jism deep inside Aunt Grace's entrails. He flooded her bowels with the ferocity of his coming and then collapsed upon her back when the fury of the storm had passed and the hot winds had blown all the way through the long corridors of his sex.
Frankie wanted to maintain the delightful imprisonment within her intestines forever, but once the flooding into her rear had subsided he shrank rapidly and soon plopped out of her anus like a wet pea plopped from the pod. Carefully he dismounted from the lovely saddle of her ass and replaced the cold cream on her dressing table. He grabbed a handful of Kleenex and carefully wiped both types of telltale white creamy substances from her rear. In the bathroom he flushed this evidence down the toilet and painstakingly washed himself with a soapy washcloth. He noticed the little globs and streaks of brown and recognized them for what they were but, surprisingly, they did not appear in the least bit offensive to him at this moment. He rinsed the washcloth out carefully and deposited it in the clothes hamper. Then he returned quietly to bed and slipped in on his side. Now that he had drained his crankcase, he could sleep and perhaps dream of Sally. The last thing he was conscious of before dozing off was Grace, still snoring contentedly like a drunken brewery horse. He reached over and patted her on the cheeks of her lovely ass.
"Sleep well, Auntie Mine. After all, there's more than one way to skin a cat."
CHAPTER TEN
The months that followed saw a steady degeneration of the idyllic relationship which had developed between them in the early days of their sexual liaison. When Frankie got home after school Grace was either gone or drunk. She had become quite testy. Often she would get mysterious phone calls and carry on very guarded conversations. She never seemed to want to talk about them afterward. During this period their sex life rapidly fell apart at the seams. Grace seemed constantly preoccupied and Frankie had the feeling that her interests were now back with her contemporaries and that she had come to regard him as a "kid." There was nothing he could put his finger on; it was just an impression-a feeling deep in his bones-and that made it even worse.
Several times he tried to broach the subject to her, to talk it out and iron out all of the mental wrinkles that seemed to have developed from nowhere. Each time he seemed to run into a complete stone wall. She looked at him as though he was some sort of unwelcome stranger attempting to talk to her about a highly personal problem in which he played no real part. Each time he attempted to breach the abyss that had developed between them he seemed only to broaden it. The conversation gap even exceeded the generation gap that had always existed between them. After a half-dozen frustrating experiences, Frankie gave up. Often he was in bed asleep, or trying to, when Grace came home at midnight or later. Usually she was quite drunk. He never asked where she had been. Her atti tude had already told him it was none of his business. No longer did she welcome his youthful hard-ons; instead she seemed to patently ignore them. Even when he got his trust fund interest check and gave her the three hundred dollars each month she no longer seemed appreciative but merely accepted it as though it was her due.
Early in June the school announced a big formal senior prom. Frankie had never had a real date with anyone other than his Aunt Grace, but since she seemed to have cut him off so completely he got up his nerve and invited Sally Johnston to the senior prom. He felt a little strange about it. For all his worldly experience with Aunt Grace, this was the first time he had ever really had a date with a girl.
When the big night finally arrived he sent her a corsage and told Grace that he wanted to use the Cadillac that night. Like the other guys he rented a tuxedo for the occasion. When he went through the living room wearing it Grace got a strange expression on her face but said nothing. He told her he might be late getting home. She nodded dumbly and mixed herself another large martini.
Sally had never looked prettier. The emerald-green satin of her new party dress emphasized the light honey blonde of her long soft curls. To Frankie, who had grown used to Grace's voluptuous curves, the young girl's trim figure looked as sleek as a greyhound. He felt very adult with her as he held the Cadillac door open for her. Aunt Grace's company when they went out together had always, somehow, made him feel hopelessly and permanently juvenile.
The prom itself was a real drag. The high school gym looked like exactly what it was and even the long dresses and rented tuxedos did not seem to lend maturity to most of the other students. Frankie felt much the same as he had in summer camp, a man surrounded by little boys. He didn't enjoy dancing since he knew that he didn't do it well and he could only really enjoy performing acts at which he knew himself to excel. About ten o'clock he suggested they leave and go somewhere else. He had expected her to object to the idea but she fell right in with it. Once they were in the car he asked: "Where would you like to go and what would you like to do?"
"For the first time in my life I feel very grown up, and very wicked. I'm sick of following all of the 'nice little girl' rules. I wish we could go to some quiet place where we'd have a lot of privacy and could have a few cocktails, but I guess that's impossible. We're under age and nobody will serve us. Guess it's back to the old ice cream parlor again."
"Not necessarily, my dear. You just leave that up to your old Uncle Frankie and you'll see your girlish dreams come true tonight," he assured her.
"All of them?" she taunted.
"Every last wicked, lewd one," he replied.
There was a little liquor store on the boulevard where he stopped now and then to take home booze to Grace. Occasionally he cashed a check there. The owner had checked on his credit with the bank and was much impressed with what he had been told. Frankie knew that little man would sell him an atomic bomb if he had one in stock. He was rapidly coming to realize that most of the rules and regulations and laws of modern society exist mostly for the poor people and working stiffs. Those who have enough bread can go through life ignoring all forms of the "Keep Off the Grass" signs that regiment the activities of the multitudes.
He emerged from the liquor store carrying a styrofoam ice chest filled with a dozen pop-open cans of chilled ready-mixed cocktails packed in enough ice cubes to keep them cold all night. Depositing these behind the seat, he drove over to the big, deserted parking lot under the Whitestone Bridge where Grace had taken him the night he gave her the car. He pulled to the far end of the lot just as she had that night. Here, if a cruising police car should come in the lot to investigate there would be time to readjust clothing and look innocent: just watching the airplanes land.
Once the engine and lights were off and he had the electric seat back to the rear limits of the track, making as much room in front as possible, Frankie reached back and brought the ice chest up front. Opening the glove compartment door provided a neat little bar shelf. He felt Sally watching him in silent approval.
"What is your pleasure, my dear?" He beamed at her. "I got martinis, Manhattans and whiskey sours. What'll it be?"
"I've never tasted any of them so I guess I'll try a martini," she replied.
"All right, if you insist, but just remember what Dorothy Parker said about martinis," he warned her.
"Oh? I don't think I know it. What did she say on the subject?"
"Martinis are very dangerous....
Take two at the very most. Take three and you're under the table;
Take four and you're under the host."
"That's very cute and clever," she beamed at Frankie. "In that case change my order to four martinis."
It was obvious that Sally didn't think much of the flavor of martinis but she swigged hers bravely.
"They kinda make your mouth and tongue all numb, don't they?" she asked him.
"I don't know. Come over here and let me feel how numb they've made your mouth and tongue," he replied, pulling her close to him and pressing his mouth to hers.
There was nothing very numb about her lips or tongue at all as they forced their tongues into each other's mouths and Sally's arms flew around him as though afraid he'd try to pull away from her. From there on, it was all downhill: almost too easy. His hands did not encounter even token resistance as they explored her breasts and buttocks, then found and undid the long zipper of her dress and the hooks on her bra. She raised no objection as he removed these garments and tossed them in the back seat and then hooked his fingers in the elastic of the sheer nylon panties and urged them downward, revealing a delicate navel and finally the top fringes of her mound of cunthair that was the color of golden honey. She even lifted her hips slightly from the seat to make it easier for him to pull them all the way down and off. Then she lay back languidly against the front seat, naked and smiling invitingly. The pure white skin and soft blonde hair looked even more pale and fragile against the deep red leather upholstery. She looked like pure alabaster.
Sally Johnston had one of those figures that, either because of the cut of her dress or shape of her bra, is not especially outstanding when she is dressed, but when you get those clothes off her you know you've landed something really special and completely deluxe in all of the equipment departments. Her lithe young body with the flat little tummy made the soft fleshy globes of her breasts seem large and out of proportion, but in a thrilling way. The nipples were smaller than Grace's and the pinkish-beige areolas were the size of quarters. Far below, the golden-haired mound of Venus rose up invitingly from the tight flatness of her lower tummy.
Frankie was only experienced in maturity in females, and the sight of this delightful display of youthful femininity was a new and different experience for him. His hands caressed and squeezed the tight young breasts and then his mouth was drawn to them. He could cup each comfortably in one hand, unlike Aunt Grace who required both hands for either the right or the left boob. He lowered his lips to the small nipples and flicked at them with his tongue and then swept them into his mouth, sucking and chewing first one, then the other, to tight erection while the young girl trembled in anticipation beneath him. Slowly and deliberately he lowered his attentions, kissing and licking across the expanse of soft baby fuzz-coated white skin of her tummy, his tongue darting in to the tight little navel and then continuing its southward journey until, at last, he encountered the sweet hairy mound of her impending womanhood.
The tender blonde pubic hairs fascinated him. They were so different from the heavy, coarse, dyed hairs of Aunt Grace's cunt. Gently he spread the girl's thighs with his hands and lowered his face into the soft moist recess of her crotch. The light was poor, coming from the overhead lights of the parking lot. Suddenly he remembered the flashlight in the glove compartment. He reached behind him and clutched it, pressing the switch and directing the small yellow beam of light into the center of her sex. The blonde hairs above were soft and fine and when he breathed on them they bent like wheat in the wind. Beneath the blonde-furred triangle lay the soft, moist light pinkness of her interior. He shone the light full upon it. Little beads of sex moisture glowed in the narrow beam of light and the entire silken slit seemed to beckon him to explore and enter it. The lips of his mouth sought out its lips and fastened upon them as he slid his tongue into her innermost feminine recesses while his fingertips gently caressed the softness of her lovely three B's, breasts, buttocks and belly.
Pulling away momentarily, he heard her heavy breathing and viewed the tiny pink chasm which seemed to challenge him to penetrate it. Slowly he licked up and down the expanse of the soft silken slit while his hands caressed and kneaded her soft flesh. Finally he fastened his tongue and lips upon the minuscule clitoris and orally caressed it until she shuddered and moaned beneath his face and the first of her orgasms swept over her as she trembled like the last autumn leaf on an oak tree. When it had passed and she collapsed against the red leather car seat, he directed his attentions upward until he was again sucking on those lovely young tits and she was urging his mouth up to meet hers.
Slowly and quietly now, so as not to alarm her at what might lie ahead, he unzipped his fly and extracted his own sex member. Almost casually he brought his hot hard member into contact with the soft moist slit. He could feel her tremble and moan at the contact and carefully he worked himself into position, while kissing her frantically, to where the head of his rampant prick slipped comfortably and excitingly between the lips of her moist cunt and tried to make the initial penetration. He felt the purplish swollen glans being caressed and urged inward by the tender moist lips of that open vagina and he bore into her until he felt the thin membrane barrier of her unbroken hymen. Still she offered no resistance as he pressed ever inward, feeling that soft barrier stretch and distend beneath the pressure of his sex upon her maidenhead.
"Are you sure?" he managed to gasp. "It's a step you can never retract, you know. There are other ways you can take care of me. If you prefer I'll stop now and we can resort to the other means."
"I'm sure, Frankie. I've never been so sure of anything in my whole life. After all, I've been a virgin all my life and now I want to offer that gift to you. I know it is a gift I can give only once and I want for you to have it. Don't be afraid of hurting me. I will love the pain. Here, I'll even try to help you." With this she thrust her loins upward to join their force to his own. Within moments the tear was completed and he felt himself sink in far beyond the virginal barrier. It was all so fast and so simple. One moment she was a virgin maiden; the next she was a sex-filled woman.
"Give it to me, Frankie. Don't hold back a single inch of your sweet manhood. Give it all to me. I want to feel it 'way up inside my belly. I've wanted to for a long time now. I don't want you to treat me like a little virgin girl. I want you to treat me like a woman ... a real woman. It has just killed me all of these months to think of you wasting that beautiful flesh I feel deep inside me now on that old broad of an aunt of yours. I'm young and eager for sex and I've been waiting for you to realize it."
"What the hell do you mean about my aunt?" he demanded, suddenly drawing up short in the middle of a stroke. "What makes you think she's anything more to me than just my legal guardian?"
"Oh, come on, Frankie, it's all too obvious. You've refused to date the girls in school, and can't wait to run home to your auntie. Do you think the other kids are all that stupid? They know you've been banging the old girl. It has been a matter of considerable pain to me. Seriously, though, isn't it better with a girl your own age? Doesn't my cunt feel better to you than her old stretched box?"
If he hadn't been so close to coming he'd probably have pulled out of her right then and driven her home. But, as they say, a stiff prick has no conscience, so he decided to delay being upset about what she had said about him and Aunt Grace. Meanwhile her tight little pussy felt like it was the only thing in the world that mattered. She was thrusting it up to him now, trying to make the intrusion even more complete. He rammed her back unmercifully, even hoping to hurt her, but she seemed to love every vicious jab of his hard cock. By now he realized that he had reached the point of no return.
"Don't hold it back, Frankie. I know that you will want to come in my cunt and I want to feel it. I want to feel your hot juice deep in my belly. I don't even give a damn if it makes me pregnant. Right now, I know that that come of yours, right in my cunt, is what I need to make a woman of me and that's what I want and what I need. That's why I didn't try to protect my pride by putting up any silly girlish resistance to you. I knew you wanted to fuck me and I wanted you to. That's all I've dreamed and thought of for weeks now, so go ahead, shoot your come in my cunt and make me a woman."
"Goddamn you, Sally, I couldn't stop now even if I tried. Why the hell did you have to go and mention my aunt at a time like this? All right, if it's a real fucking you wanted, that's what you're gonna get."
He jabbed and thrust into her mercilessly now, hoping to hurt her, but the more violent his attack became, the more she actually seemed to enjoy it. He felt all wet and sticky around the balls and knew that it was the outflow of her bloody maidenhead. He reached his right hand beneath her and sought out the crevice between her firm young buttocks. Locating his goal, he crammed his middle finger deep into her tan rear tunnel and pulled her even tighter onto his fully embedded member. She was sweating profusely now and her breath had become a series of hot little gasps. At last he felt the flood start deep within his balls and rush up the tube and then the floodgates burst and he poured forth his hot semen into the very innermost reaches of her tight virgin cunt. She felt it too for her legs flew around his ass and grasped him in a lovers' hammerlock so that he could not move even a fraction of an inch to withdraw from the total and complete sexual contact. Then he felt her giving his bursting cock the harlot's hug as she squeezed and milked every drop of manly juice into the depths of her hungry cunt.
It was her first real orgasm to an imbedded prick and he knew it. She seemed never to want to let it cease, for her grip on him tightened as he felt her go through wave after wave of the muscular convulsions that told him what was happening deep inside her sex. Even when it was over she refused to release him and her tight little cunt walls kept squeezing and pulsing over his spent member until it could not help but arouse renewed vigor, and soon he was fucking her for the second time without coming out for air. She was very hot and wet inside now and she seemed to hump up to him even more desperately than before until, within minutes, she had pumped out a second load of his hot jism that, mixed with her own juices now, overflowed her plugged cunt and seeped out over his exposed balls and probably onto his dark trousers around the unzipped fly.
Even now she was not content and kept kissing his mouth and cunt-squeezing his cock until he managed to come to life and fuck the living hell out of her for the third time in a row. That little virgin cunt of hers had an insatiable appetite for cock juice and he was intent upon appeasing it. Suddenly he remembered the night that Grace had gotten drunk and passed out. He had been dreaming of fucking Sally's tight virgin cunt and had shoved his cock into his aunt's asshole. Now that it was actually in that tight virgin cunt, all he could think of was Grace's hot asshole, and that's what he was concentrating on when he blew the third and final load into her hot wet snatch. Then, at last, her legs released their death grip on his ass and she allowed him to withdraw from her tender tunnel.
Frankie was as close to a state of total collapse as he had ever been in his life. He slumped back against the car seat and passed out cold. He lost all track of time. It might have been minutes or even hours later when he regained consciousness. The memory of what had happened before he blacked out returned quickly and he reached out for Sally beside him on the car seat. His arms met nothing but empty air. He was about to call her name when he became aware of a delightful sensation at his crotch. He looked down to see the top of her honey-blonde head as she buried it in his lap and mouthed away desperately at his semi-limp prick. She went at it like a long-starved calf returned to its mother's udder. Obviously, from the way she was going about it, it was her first time out at giving head. What she lacked in technique and experience she more than made up for in hungry enthusiasm. He felt his deflated dong swelling and growing in her demanding mouth as she licked and sucked and chewed on it. He touched her head and she emitted little animal noises as she squeezed his balls and gobbled his meat as if life itself depended upon extracting the elixir from it. How long she had been down on it he did not know, but he knew that the end was not far off. Entwining his fingers in the long blonde hair he urged her head down the final bit of the way upon his sex. She had it all in her mouth now. There was no question but what she wanted him to come in her mouth and to taste the flavor of his manhood.
"Keep your tongue working on it all the time. That's right, keep flicking it all over. Yeah ... just like that. Now run your lips and down him, all the way. Just the way you wanted me to fuck you. Pretend that your mouth is your cunt and that it wants my big prick the same way your sweet snatch does. That's right ... all the way up and then all the way down. That's the idea. Just keep it up, just like that, and keep your tongue active. That's a girl! Oh, that's perfect. I won't be able to stand much more of that. Don't change a thing. Keep doing it just that way and you'll soon have what you want."
by way of answer, she squeezed his balls gently and patted the buttocks of his ass as she pulled him deeper and deeper into her mouth and throat with each stroke until, at last, the sirens screamed, the thunder boomed and all of the colored lights flashed like a million skyrockets as he burst the head of his swollen cock into the warm moist recesses of her mouth and throat. She made no effort to pull off it as he came in her mouth. Rather she kept right down on him until she was content that she had drained his balls to the very dregs, which indeed she had. Before she came up off it Frankie thought he would surely black out again. Finally, she released him and crawled back up in the seat beside him. The tight little nipples of her firm tits bore into his chest like drills as she hugged and squeezed him. There were tears running from her eyes and a trickle of his come from the corner of her mouth as she brought her face close to his and asked: "Did I do all right, darling? Did you enjoy it? I wanted it to be just perfect for you. I want to make sure that I qualify as your girl from here on in."
"You did beautifully, Sally," he said truthfully, pulling her close and kissing her. He could taste his come on her lips and it gave him a strange vicarious thrill knowing that those lips he was kissing had just left his cock.
They had another drink then and petted for almost another hour. Finally he helped her back into her underwear and dress, but not until he had kissed those firm tits and that now swollen and creamy cunt a final goodnight. Then he drove her home with the promise to call her very soon again.
When she was safely inside her door he drove home to Grace. With any luck she would have gotten drunk and passed out in bed hours ago. Glancing at his watch he saw that it was a little after three A.M. Locking the Cadillac carefully in the garage, he brought in the cooler with what was left of the canned cocktails to put into the refrigerator. The house was quiet and he thought that he was home free. He sneaked quietly to the kitchen and put the remaining cans of cocktails in the refrigerator and dumped the melted ice from the container.
For some reason he wanted another drink. He was too excited with the events of the evening to be sleepy. He opened one of the cans of chilled martinis and walked back into the living room. There, for the first time, he noticed Aunt Grace. After those magical hours with Sally, Grace suddenly looked very old and obese. She was sprawled in the big club chair, stark naked and very, very drunk. Obviously she had had to urinate some time earlier but hadn't been able to make it out of the chair. The damp yellow stain covered the lower cushion and formed a puddle on the carpet beneath. Her huge tits, which had always turned him on so, suddenly turned him off. They looked like floppy cows' udders next to the firm fullness of young Sally. Her soft belly seemed to sag and the big patch of auburn-dyed cunthair seemed somehow repulsive.
He hoped that she had passed out, in which case he would merely leave her there to sleep it off until morning. No such luck. Suddenly she opened her eyes and finally managed to focus them on him. She made a move to get up but it proved highly unsuccessful. She fell back against the cushions and held her arms out to him.
"So, my little Frankie boy finally decided to come home to his old auntie. I've missed you, sonny. Tell me, did you have a good time at the dance? C'mon over here where I can see you. You look all fuzzy 'way over there."
He had never seen Grace in quite this bad shape. Suddenly he felt filled with compassion for the older woman. His thoughts of her made him forget his own appearance and he obediently approached her chair. When he came into her limited area of focus she examined him from head to toe and then began a tirade against him that would have done credit to a fishwife.
"Well, just get a load of my big man in his tuxedo. Hair all messed up, lipstick all over his face and pecker tracks all over those nice black pants. The man you rented it from isn't going to be happy with all that come over the fly, and what's that other stain, blood? Oh, sure, I get it. So you did a little cherry-smashing tonight too, huh? Got nice maidenhead blood all over your pants, didn't you? Whassa matter, ain't I good enough for you any more or do you have to have that young cherry quim to make your putter pucker these days?"
"Please, Grace, it's very late and you're in no condition. If you insist we'll discuss it in the morning."
"In the morning, my ass! We'll fucking well discuss it right now. And furthermore, what the hell would you know about my condition? I'll tell you what condition I'm in. I'm as horny as a bitch wolf in mating season, that's what condition I'm in. I've been sitting here fingering my clit for hours waiting for you to come home and throw a real good fuck into me. Now, I'll bet you don't have one left in you after that young cunt, do you?"
"I don't know, Grace. I'm sorry if you're mad at me. You've acted so strange lately, I didn't know what to do. You know I've always tried to take care of you."
"Take care of me? With what? That stupid little cock of yours and the few lousy bucks that my sister should have left to me in the first place. Face it, buster, I'm the one that took you in and took care of you. Take off your clothes and let me see what the teenage bitch did to you and what, if anything, she left of you for me, now that I need you."
Obediently Frankie removed his clothes and hung them over the back of one of the bar stools. Then, at his aunt's bidding, he moved over in front of her. She reached out and grabbed his limp cock. It felt and looked like a piece of wet rope at this point. She pulled and tugged and rubbed on it but to no avail.
"Looks like a goddamn toasted marshmallow. How you expect to do me any good with that little hunk of dead meat?"
"I'm sorry, Grace. I thought you had completely lost interest from the way you've been acting lately. After all, you taught me to need it and when you stopped giving out I had to look elsewhere, that's all. Can't you understand?"
"Yeah, sure, I unnerstan' jus' fine. But right now you better damn well take care of your homework. Otherwise, my young stud, come tomorrow mornin' you ain't gonna have no home. I'm your only relative and legal guardian. If I throw your ass outta here, you'll wind up in juvenile hall until' you come of age a year from now. Let's see how much young cooze you get there and how much all your fuckin' money will do for you."
"I've tried to hold up my end around here, Grace, from the moment I started getting my money."
"Yeah, sure, you and your almighty dollar. Well, right now your end don't look like anybody could hold it up," she berated him, slapping his deflated cock with the back of her hand.
"What do you want from me, Grace?" he asked, as patiently as he could under the circumstances. From the very beginning he had taken little for himself and tried to give her everything. He wasn't ready for this new attitude. Frankie had never heard the saying about Hell knowing no wrath like a woman scorned.
"I'll tell you what I want from you, my dear nephew. Right now I want you to put out the fire that's raging in my coal box. I been sittin' here for hours and it's been like the worst hot flash in history. If you aren't man enough to put it out with your cock then maybe you're still boy enough to put it out with your tongue. The way I feel I gotta come at least three or four times before I can sleep. Now, if you know which side your bread is buttered on, at least for the next year, you better get down there and eat my cunt until I tell you, you can stop."
Frankie wanted to ask her if he couldn't help her to the bathroom first and give her a douche. She had been on a drunk for several days now, and to the best of his knowledge had not even had a bath or shower, much less a douche. She was bound to be pretty gamy now ... and then there was the urine in which she was still sitting. Her expression told him that any such suggestion would be useless. Obediently he squatted in the damp pool of pee on the carpet and began to play with her wet, hot snatch with his hands. Perhaps he could finger-fuck her at least part of the way.
"Goddamn it, I can do that myself. It's all I've been doing for hours!" she screamed, pushing his hands away from her sex. "Get your face down there and eat me out real good."
Dutifully Frankie slowly approached his aunt's open gash. The mixed odors of stale woman juices and alcoholically strengthened urine assailed his nostrils like a sledgehammer. Trying to make it appear playfully romantic, he took his canned martini and dashed half of it into the putrid opening, rubbing her briskly, hoping to at least wash off part of the external filth. She grabbed his head then and soon his mouth was pressed to the creamy slot and he proceeded to lick and tongue at it, wondering how long it would be before his sense of smell became immune to the unpleasant odor. How different it was from the delicate fragrance of feminine youth that Sally had exuded just hours before. He wondered why we have to be young and then old, clean and then dirty. Why can't we all just be the same all the time, never being too young and then never aging? At the moment he was unable to ponder the great infinite scheme of things.
He licked and sucked at her widespread gash for all he was worth, anxious to get it over with as soon as possible. Perhaps if the first one was real powerful she'd forget that she had demanded three or four comes. Mercifully the first orgasm swept her within two minutes, just as he was growing immune to the odor of the human toilet into which his face had been forced. She moaned and groaned and trembled and clutched his head so tight to her flowing cunt that he was afraid she'd break his neck. Nor did she release him when it had passed.
He opened his eyes now. The living room lights were on brightly and from this close-up position he could see that toilet duties and matters of personal hygiene were not all his aunt had neglected during her latest binge. Gray hairs were clearly visible among the deep auburn-dyed ones. He slipped two fingers into her vagina and ran another up her rectum and began sawing away as he ate her, hoping to hasten the end. Five minutes later she went through another violent orgasm. With the strain of it all she let wind, which he could not escape since she still clutched his head tight to her cunt. The muscles of his tongue felt strained, his jaws ached, and he was gasping for breath before the third and forth orgasmic relief finally satiated her sex-starved erotic appetite.
She fell back then, sound asleep in the chair. He struggled to his feet and made his way to the bathroom. No amount of toothpaste or mouthwash seemed to rid his mouth of the stale flavor of her. At last he leaned over the toilet bowl and wretched. Then, after he had rinsed his mouth, he returned to the refrigerator and opened another canned drink, which he downed in almost a single swallow. Something was tickling the inside of his mouth and his tongue. Exploring with his fingers, he finally located the source of the annoyance and extracted a coarse curly hair from between two teeth. For some reason he looked at it. The upper thin end was a deep coppery red while the lower half was pure gray. Poor old Aunt Grace was aging fast these days.
Crawling into bed, Frankie set his alarm for six-thirty. He wanted to be up and out before Grace came to in the morning. She might decide that she wanted more. He knew that he could never face that on an empty stomach. Even if his manhood had recharged by then he had no desire to dunk his dickey in that sewer of a snatch until she sobered up and nurtured it back to its usual squeaky clean condition.
All in all it had turned out to be quite an evening. He tried to console himself with the thought that the ugly ending had made him doubly appreciate the beauty of the earlier hours. He felt strangely proud of the fact that he had finally broken a cherry. On that thought, he slept soundly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Once school was out, and he and Grace spent more time together, the problems that had seemed to arise between them suddenly crumbled away and things began to go as smoothly as they had in the beginning. Grace had finally figured out that the reappearance on the scene of some of her old so-called friends had been the source of much of their difficulties and she had gotten rid of them. ' No further mention was made of the night of the prom but she began to actually encourage him to go out occasionally with people his own age. He mentioned wanting to see a few movies that he didn't think would appeal to her. Although he never mentioned Sally's name he saw her every time he could get away. Rather than arouse Grace's suspicions on these occasions, Frankie rented a car and they would go to a drive-in movie or back to park under the bridge. One night they had a close call, almost being caught by a prowling police car. After that Frankie persuaded her that it would be safer, more practical and a lot more comfortable simply to check in at a motel. Since sex was their main interest on their dates anyway, it made good sense.
One night Sally acted very strangely on the phone and seemed to want to put off their date. The more excuses she made the more insistent Frankie became that she keep the date. When she met him she looked sad and embarrassed and he had a hell of a time getting her into the motel room. Once there, the reason for her reticence became immediately obvious. Sally was having her period and was not about to allow him to fuck her at this time of month. Her resitance made him all the more horny and his hard-on almost drilled a hole in her as she lay naked beside him on the bed. Finally, in self-protection, she rolled over flat on her tummy pressing her menstruating pussy flat against the mattress.
Until now Frankie had paid little attention to her firm, full buttocks. Now they rose up almost as attractively as her breasts usually did. He became intrigued and began to caress and rub and pat them and finally cover them with kisses. Opening the valley between them, he closely inspected the little tan starfish that dwelt in their center. Sally had never even heard of anal intercourse. Frankie had tried it with Grace, of course, but then she was old and larger in all those areas. Carefully he knelt over Sally's lovely little ass and allowed the head of his stiff cock to explore the valley as he made a big production of rubbing and massaging her back. It was several minutes before he developed enough lubrication and again found the small target of his planned assault. He kneaded her shoulders briskly to divert her attention from the true area of his interest. She appeared, or perhaps just pretended, not to notice as the swollen hot glans slowly penetrated the tight little doughnut and then inch by inch worked its tight way up her hot rectum. At first, something inside of her rear seemed to be fighting to keep him from entering, trying to expel the intruder. Slowly, whatever it was began to accept and even welcome the strange visitor and, at last, seemed to open widely to allow him to slip the full length of his swollen prick into her seething hot entrails. Her hot little asshole, which he knew was virgin, seemed tighter and infinitely softer and warmer than his aunt's. At last he realized that she must be aware of his having impaled her anus on his cock.
"Does it hurt, sweetheart?" he asked with genuine concern for her comfort.
"Yes, but in a strangely nice way," she replied, seeming ashamed to dignify the question with an answer.
"Do you want me to take it out?"
"No, oh please, no, don't take it out. Just stay still for a minute and let me get used to it. It feels so much bigger back there than it always did in my cunt, even that first time. Give me a minute. I think I'm beginning to like it."
Within minutes it was obvious that Sally wasn't just beginning to like it ... she was, in fact, loving it. She began to hump those pretty hillocks so violently that Frankie was hard-pressed to hang onto her. He looked like a rodeo rider in a bucking bronco event. He hung in there like Casey Tibbs in championship competition.
In the midst of the frenzied sexual activity, Sally turned her head back and moaned to him: "My God, Frankie, I would not have thought it possible. I'm actually going to come to your stiff cock in my asshole!"
"Hang in there, baby, I'm coming right with you," he groaned as he spewed forth his molten seminal discharge deep within the young girl's bowels.
After the fire of their passions subsided for the moment, they relaxed and watched a TV show on the motel room set. Before it was over, Sally was fondling and stroking his prick, and finally lowered her mouth to enclose the head of it as it arose to new activities: Frankie knew that she loved the taste of his semen and thought that perhaps she desired this too since she was 'off the roof" for tonight. He was, therefore, amazed that when he had a full erection again, due to her sweet efforts, she pulled her mouth from his full-blown cock and moved back up beside him.
"I want you to do it to me again, Frankie. I want to feel that wonderful meat of yours in my rear. If you insist that I be crude, I will be. I want you to fuck me again up the ass, just like last time. My God, an hour ago I would not have believed that I could live through such a thing. Now that I've had it, I don't believe I can live without it. Ass fuck me, Frankie. Sock it to my rump real good and make me come again to your prick in my asshole."
This time when she rolled over flat on her tummy on the mattress, Frankie urged her up onto her knees on the edge of the motel bed while he stood behind her and between her legs. In this attitude they were both allowed more complete freedom of movement than with her flat on her stomach and him above her. He placed his hands on the cheeks of her lovely rear and spread them wide. This time the little brown hole did not offer the tight resistance that it had for the first entry. Soon he was sliding in and out of her rear as comfortably as though it had been her cunt. By widening the cleavage between her cheeks he could look down and watch his swollen cock embed itself inch by inch until it was balls deep in that sweet tight little ass. It didn't take much of this until they had both blown their loads and their minds for a second time. When it happened, he collapsed atop her and they both lay in a state of physically exhausted passion. At last, when his withered cock popped out, of her ass like a champagne cork, they knew that they had had it for the night. Reluctantly, they dressed and left the motel. Frankie drove her home in silence. They kissed softly, and then he dropped off the rental car and took a cab home to Grace.
Grace was sitting in the living room of the home they had shared for almost a year now. She was looking more like her old glamorous self these days. Her hair had been freshly done and she had obviously applied new makeup shortly before he came in. The light blue robe accentuated the dark red hair and set off her ample feminine charms. She had been on the wagon lately and this had taken years off her appearance. She was one of those women whose eyelids puff up and whose entire face seems to sag when they drink heavily. She gave him her most alluring smile and Frankie realized what was on her mind. His dear old auntie had a plain old-fashioned case of hot pants. She looked so good tonight that he almost wished he'd have saved a little of his sexual strength for her.
"Did you have a good time, Frankie? How was the movie?" she purred.
"Oh, just so-so. Half the audience seemed to like it real well and the other half panned it. I guess I was about middle of the road in my opinion of it. It wasn't great, nor did it really stink. You know the type of Hollywood mediocrity that I mean." It came off easily. He had learned that such noncommittal reviews are the safest way to describe a picture that he hadn't really seen at all.
"Well, I guess they can't all be winners. I'm glad I didn't go with you. There were a couple of good shows on TV tonight, so I came out ahead by just staying home. How's 'bout getting us each a little shot of brandy? I haven't been sleeping well lately and maybe that will help. I've been reading this dull book for almost an hour, hoping that it would bore me to sleep."
Frankie poured two small glasses of brandy and moved over to her chair. Grace took the one he offered her. With her other hand she quickly unzipped his fly and pulled out his prick. In spite of earlier activities Frankie felt it twitch and start to swell at the cool touch of her hand. Giving it a little squeeze she informed him: "Here's what I really need to make me sleep like a kitten. You've been neglecting your homework with your Aunt Grace lately, Frankie boy." She stroked and squeezed his cock as she talked and Frankie felt the erection rushing upon him.
Anxious to get him fully hard as fast as possible in order that he could service her seething snatch, Grace leaned forward and took the swelling head of his rod into the cool dampness of her mouth. She did those thrilling little butterfly flicks with her tongue on the orally encased glans. He was swelling up like a rapidly inflating balloon now. Suddenly Grace recoiled from him as though in sheer horror. Her eyes were like saucers as they stared unbelieving at his now stiff cock. The full light of the reading lamp hit his sex like a spotlight. Then Frankie saw it, too. The little flecks and streaks of brown that were a dead giveaway as to his earlier activities. Why hadn't he taken time to wash thoroughly before leaving the motel? For several seconds Grace was speechless, then she reached out and her fingernails picked and scraped against his staff to confirm her dreadful suspicions.
"Oh, my poor darling nephew, how dreadfully I have failed you. I know that I haven't been taking care of your sex needs lately but I surely didn't think you'd resort to getting involved with those homosexuals I've seen hanging around down by the theater. If I've driven you to that I'll never forgive myself." She sobbed so deeply that her big boobs jiggled like a pair of huge Jell-O molds.
"Don't fret, Auntie dear, I've never had anything to do with another man. Let's just say I bumped into a Greek girl at the movies tonight. After all, man does not live by bread alone. I had to have a little something, you know. I'd never have done it if I'd have thought you would be waiting for me ... like this. I'll go to the bathroom and wash it and then we'll ball real good, just like in the old days."
"Like hell we will! Don't you think I have any pride? You can't run around shoving that cock of yours into any little foreign tramp's shit box and then come home and put it in my delicate clean vagina," she sobbed.
"Come off it, Grace. As long as you brought up the subject I may as well remind you of the night I came home and you were so drunk I couldn't get a hard-on. You forced me to eat your cunt four times when you hadn't had a bath for a week. Your precious little vagina was about as clean and delicate as an open cesspool, so don't give me all that personal hygiene shit!"
"Oh, Frankie, please, baby-boy. Let's not fight ... let's fuck." She grabbed his still stiff cock and pulled him down to her silken slit. "C'mon, sock it to your old auntie. I need a cuntful of stiff young cock and I need it right now." She was rubbing the purple head into the creamy moist slit now, going wild with her passionate need for him.
"Don't you want me to go in and wash it first?" he asked.
"No, darling. I'm afraid if you get it wet it might shrink and I want every precious bit of it, right now. I can always douche out the little souvenirs of your young whore's asshole after we get through." She did that pivot trick with her pelvis and Frankie felt the lips of her hungry cunt wrap around his swollen, throbbing glans. Clutching her full buttocks, he slid her out to the very edge of the chair and dropped to his knees on the floor between her open thighs as he slipped into the soft sex tunnel as smoothly as a christened ship sliding down greased ways into the deep waters of the harbor.
"That's more like it, baby. Oh, you don't know how I've missed that beautiful prick of yours. Hold still a minute, all the way in, and just let my pussy hug and squeeze it." With this she turned on that crazy milking-machine motion that rippled up and down the length of his embedded shaft as the muscular walls of her vaginal canal contracted and released under her perfect control. He knew from experience that she could make him come without his ever having to take a stroke just by rippling those magical muscles. After a few moments she seemed content with this phase of their coital encounter and gasped, breathlessly: "Now, fuck me, Frankie! Fuck me hard and fast. I want a real brutal attack tonight. Fuck me like you hated me and were trying to hurt me. Oh yes, that's it. Slam it to me as violently as you can. Oh, God, that's great. Keep it up. I'm coming...."
"I can feel you coming, Grace. You have such a wonderful little cunt and it fits me like a tender glove. It must be awful if a woman has a great big grocket and her lover is only normally hung. Squeeze it some more, baby. I'll hold my cock real still, all the way in you, and you squeeze it until you've milked it dry."
"Like this?" she asked needlessly as she started the erotic internal massage on his throbbing member.
"Beautiful, baby, beautiful. I warn you, I can't take much of that. If you want to come with me you'd better hurry."
"I'm ready when you are, Frankie. I think it's right now. I can feel your knob swelling right against my uterus. Give it to me, little nephew. Flood your auntie's cunt with that hot, sweet come of yours. Oh yes ... there it is, I can feel it spurting out and splashing off my uterus. Oh, it's heaven. Feel me coming with you now...."
It must have been the sleeping potion she needed because Grace slept like a baby all night. Frankie didn't exactly need any lullabies to lull him to slumber, either.
All night he had wild, 'way-out dreams. The same theme recurred in each version of the dream. He seemed to be standing at a fork in the road. There were no road signs and he was perplexed as to which path to follow. One seemed to lead on until it disappeared on the horizon while the other seemed to come to a dead end a short distance ahead, but then they changed. Sometimes they were just pathways, other times wide highways, and in the final version they appeared to be two long, dark tunnels. Slowly he recognized that he was standing in the very apex of a woman's crotch. One tunnel was pink and glistened like a crystal rose-quartz cave. Its mouth was surrounded with soft verdure in a dark coppery-red color. The other tunnel had a beige entrance surrounded by soft ivory or yellow shrubbery. Inside it was brown and so constricted he could not be sure that he could get through to its end. He recognized the first as Aunt Grace's vagina and the second as Sally's anus. He was at a fork in the pathway of life and was being forced into a decision as to which tunnel to commit himself to. Inherently he knew that once he embarked on either there would be no turning back. He had no way of realizing at this point that his subconscious was already wrestling with a decision which would all too soon be forced upon his conscious mind.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The summer months passed happily. Frankie saw Sally three times a week. Their sex life had fallen into a regular pattern. She was the perfect bedfellow and her appetites for sex were as ravenous as his own and her menu just as varied. On the nights between he stayed home and had all manner of sex games with Aunt Grace. Often he thought how very fortunate he was to be able to enjoy the very best of two generations of beautiful females.
Grace realized by his social schedule that Frankie had a girl and she knew him well enough to know that he was having sex with the girl. She was wise enough never to broach the subject. On the nights when he stayed home she took special pains to look her very best, hoping that in time she would win out over the unknown competitor for his sexual attentions.
The last two weeks in August Sally went away on a vacation trip with her parents. The last night they would have together before the separation she told him: "I told my folks I was spending the night with Marie tonight. If you want me to, I can stay with you all night at the motel. That is, if you're not afraid of what your dear auntie will say in the morning."
"I'll worry about that in the morning. I've always wondered what you look like first thing in the morning, anyway."
Knowing that they'd have to get enough sex in one night to last them for over two weeks, they went at it like it was rapidly going out of style. Her little blonde-framed pink cunt never looked better to Frankie. He fucked her seven times during the twelve hours they were alone together. Between times, while he was recharging his batteries, he went down and sucked on that lovely lollipop. Not to be outdone, Sally would go down on him and lick and suck his cock until it got hard enough to fuck her again. By morning her swollen, stretched honeypot was overflowing with the multiple outpourings of his hot semen into it. Her pussy felt so sore that she had trouble walking when she first got out of bed. She was all right, at least to outward appearances, by the time he put her into a cab at the corner.
Grace appeared to still be asleep when he got home. Actually she had spent a sleepless night worrying about him and what he was doing with that "other woman" in his life. Now that he was safely home she might doze off, but for the moment she was playing possum rather than raising a painful issue. For his part Frankie was sure that he had gotten home free after his all-night escapade. He undressed quietly and slipped silently into bed beside her. Within minutes they were both asleep and did not awaken until mid-afternoon.
"Grace, I've been thinking. Maybe we ought to take a little trip. We have been closeted within these four walls for almost a year. We have never really gotten out on the open road with the Cadillac. A change of scenery might do us both good. What do you say?"
"Sounds wonderful to me," she replied with genuine enthusiasm, which was based more upon the idea of getting him away all to herself than on any mere thought of travel. "Where do you suggest we go?"
"If it's agreeable to you, I would kinda like to drive up to Camp Mohawk. It's beautiful country. Last summer I helped Mr. Stanton restore a classic car. I'll bet he has it finished by now and I'd sure like to see it and have you meet him."
The trip was beautiful in more ways than one to Grace. She felt that she had, at last, won out over the mysterious other woman in his life and regarded this trip as a honeymoon. Every night she felt wonderfully wicked checking into a different motel with her boy lover. She screwed him every way but out and then each morning she would awaken him by crawling down between his legs and giving him wonderful head, sucking his cock in all the tender ways at which she was so expert. During the day they alternated at driving and delighted at finding little rustic offbeat places to eat and drink. When they arrived at Camp Mohawk, Mr. Stanton was just putting the finishing touches on the old Model A. Frankie thought it was the most beautiful car he'd ever seen and Grace marveled over the forty-odd-year-old car that looked factory-fresh. Frankie took her for a long ride through the Maine countryside in it. He was proud to show off the car he had helped rebuild to her and equally proud to show her off to his friend Mr. Stanton. All in all it was a highly successful vacation and they returned to New York in high spirits. Grace had no way of knowing that Frankie's high spirits were based largely upon the thought that tomorrow Sally would be home. He realized now that he had fallen in love with Sally and was rapidly falling out of love with his older aunt. Funny he should fall in love with a girl who had the same name as his mother.
Sally seemed strangely reserved and almost withdrawn when he picked her up. He thought that she would be as anxious as he to dash right to the motel and make up for lost time. He was quite taken aback when she suggested that they pick up some canned cocktails and park under the bridge and just talk. Oh well, what the hell, they could do it there just as well. They had enough times before. Maybe she just wanted this first date after being apart to be like their very first date had been. That was plenty okay with him. He remembered how thoroughly she had ball-drained him that first night.
Once they were parked and sipping on their drinks he turned toward her and slid his hand up her skirt. He could hardly wait to get at that sweet little blonde cunt again. He did not understand when she pushed his hand away and suddenly started to sob her heart out. He tried to comfort her but she just seemed to withdraw more and more into herself. Finally he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her to face him.
"Now, suppose you tell me just what the hell this is all about. Here I am with a ramrod that's threatening to rip right through my pants and you treat me like I was some sort of stranger all of a sudden. What the hell has gotten into you anyway?" he demanded angrily.
"You have," she murmured almost inaudibly and then burst into tears again.
"What is it, Sally? Is there someone else? Has someone new come into your life in these past two weeks? Tell me. I have every right to know."
Her tears turned to near hysterical laughter now. He had to slap her to keep her from really going into hysterics. When she finally composed herself she looked him squarely in the eyes and said: "You really have a way of hitting the nail squarely on the head. You have no idea how squarely. You bet your sweet ass someone new has come into my life. If it's any consolation, you put him there. Right there." She indicated her meaning by placing his hand on her lower belly.
"You don't mean...." His voice trailed off before he could finish. .
"What makes men so stupid about these things? Yes, my boy genius, that's exactly what I mean. To spell it out for you, I'm pregnant, knocked up, with child, in a family way, or any other way you can describe it. Is that clear enough or do I have to draw you pictures? And before you ask, there is no question about the father. I have never been with any other boy than you." Once she had gotten it all out, the tears flowed.
"Now don't you worry, honey. I've got plenty of money. We'll get you the very best doctor in New York. After all, the operation isn't even illegal any more." He tried to soothe her and pet her as he spoke. At first he was unaware that she had drawn back and was staring at him in shocked dismay.
"You mean, you want me to have an abortion?" she demanded. "I could never do that. Why, that's just like murder."
"What is the alternative? Your parents wouldn't want you to get married so early and you certainly can't raise an illegitimate child. Be practical. There's no other way out."
"Oh, yes, there is, and I have it all planned. I was afraid you might take this attitude. I can just disappear. I've given it a lot of thought this past week or so, after I had the test and was sure. I can study the papers and learn when the tide is going out late at night. I can take a subway to the Battery and get on the Staten Island ferry. In the dark of night I'll make sure that nobody sees me jump off in the middle of the harbor. I can't swim a stroke so it shouldn't take long. My body will be swept out to sea with the outgoing tide so my parents and friends need never know and be humiliated or disgraced. The only one that will ever know is you and I'm sure you'll forget about it pretty quick."
"Well, so that's it. You sure make a lot of sense. You won't consider a safe and practical abortion because you consider that it is murder and yet you don't mind taking your own life as well as the baby's and bringing sadness and loneliness to your family. Since you insist on being so dramatic about a simple problem it looks like somebody in this family is going to have to be practical and make the intelligent decisions from here on in. Come on, dry those tears and powder your nose. We've got a long trip ahead of us."
Frankie started the car while Sally kept protesting that she would not be aborted. He flicked the switch that locked the doors, fearing that she might try to jump out of the car at a traffic light. He headed across the Island and farther out. Sally was making little hurt animal noises now but sat quietly enough. She had her eyes closed as though to shut out the image of the abortion she was sure he was forcing her into. At Kennedy airport he nearly had to drag her from the car. His credit identification from the bank was enough to allow him to buy two roundtrip tickets to Las Vegas and get a hundred dol lars in cash. He had another hundred in his wallet. That wasn't much money for a honeymoon but it would have to do.
Sally allowed him to lead her aboard the plane as though she was in a trance. They were airborne and winging westward before she fully realized where she was or what was happening. When Frankie explained to the stewardess that they were on their way to get married, she served them chilled champagne. After all, airline stewardesses are romantic creatures too and love is more important than age at such times. Frankie handed Sally a glass and clinked his against the rim.
"At the speed we are traveling and with the time zone changes we will arrive in Vegas at about the same local time as when we left New York. You only have a couple more hours to be a single, sinful woman. You'd better make the most of them." The smile he gave her broke down the last of her resistance.
Sally got up and roamed around the huge plane. Locating and checking out what she was looking for, she leaned close to Frankie and whispered: "The lavatories are in the rear of the plane. I'm going to go back and get in the one on the right. As soon as the stewardesses move forward serving champagne you get up and come back and join me." She giggled at the brazen plan she had formulated. Before he could question her, she was gone. The stewardesses passed moving forward a minute later. Frankie got up and went back and entered the right-hand lavatory.
Sally had removed her panties and shoved them in her purse. Now she was perched on the edge of the small lavatory. Her legs were spread and the blonde-haired soft pink sign of her sex beckoned invitingly. Frankie had never fully lost his hard-on from the earlier erection in the car. Now it snapped to full attention instantly at the lovely sight of her open cunt. She locked her legs around him and drew him into her warm moist interior. The circumstances made the entire clandestine bang the most thrilling ever. In the back of his mind Frankie vaguely remembered jerking off in the lavatory of the train on the way to camp while he thought of Grace. The image soon faded. That had been a lifetime ago. Now he thrust deep into his bride-to-be and spurted forth several large geysers of hot white jism. The feel of it gushing into her made her come too and he felt the muscular spasms squeeze his cock. Afterward Sally sneaked out first. He waited a few minutes and made his escape unnoticed.
The wedding chapel was one of those twenty-four-hour-a-day one-stop service marriage mills for which Las Vegas is famous. What it lacked in sentimentality it made up for in efficiency. Five minutes after they walked in they emerged man and wife, complete with license and even a ring he had bought her there.
Once room service had delivered the bottle of chilled champagne to their bridal suite they faced up to the problem of informing their families. It was past midnight in New York but they phoned Sally's parents first and both spoke to them. Her mother cried and her father seemed actually happy. He had heard about Frankie's finances, and suddenly acquiring a filthy rich son-in-law in the middle of the night isn't too hateful an experience. Grace was an other matter. She seemed to take it all too calmly, expressing little or no emotion. She talked to Sally for a long time after Frankie had made the announcement and told her that they would be home in two days.
With their duty calls behind them, they crawled into the huge bed with the satin sheets and soon discovered that marriage does not necessarily take all the thrill out of sex. When they ran out of champagne and Frankie ran out of love juice, they slept locked in each other's arms.
Back in New York they retrieved the Cadillac and drove directly home to call first on Grace. Frankie had a nagging worry over her apparent lack of emotional reaction to the phone call. A note on the door was addressed to him. On the back of an official card was the message to call Sergeant Kallas at police headquarters in Long Island City about an urgent matter, immediately upon his return.
Frankie's stomach froze as he dialed the number. He was put through and the officer informed him that there had been an accident and asked that he wait at home. He would arrive within ten minutes to explain. Before Frankie could ask any questions the line went dead. He felt the awful weight of doom on his shoulders. While Sally sat silently praying, he moved to the bar and poured himself a stiff shot of brandy. It made him feel suddenly close to Grace again. It was the same brandy they had shared. Then he saw the envelope with his name on it. Inside was a brief note:
It's better this way, believe me, Frankie boy. I have kept our secret out of respect for you. I trust that you will keep it out of that same respect for me. Much happiness, always. I can only hope that your Sally will bring to your life the same wonderful sweetness you brought to mine. She sounds like a darling girl. Enclosed is my wedding gift to you both. With it goes all my love.-Grace.
Behind the note was a signed and notarized quit-claim deed transferring the house and all contents to Frankie. The Registration to the Cadillac had also been legally transferred to him. The last item was a check, pre-dated and covering the exact balance of her checking account. It was obvious that she had spent little, if any, of the three hundred a month he had given her as "advance alimony." The brandy could not seem to wash down the hot lump that had formed in his throat and he could not stop the tears that flowed as he poured another large shot. He slipped the papers back into the envelope and secreted them in his inside coat pocket just as the door chime sounded.
The officer had a doctor with him. They broke the news as gently as possible. Late the night before Grace had rented a car, making sure that she paid in advance for full-coverage insurance. At about three this morning a cruising police car had discovered the wrecked vehicle. It had slammed into a concrete abutment beneath the Whitestone Bridge in a large parking lot, apparently going at high speed. Grace had been killed instantly. No other car was involved and it was on the records as accidental death. The officer handed Frankie a small purse saying that it was all she had had with her at the time of her death. The doctor offered to arrange to have the body removed from the morgue to a funeral parlor that he recommended highly. He would be happy to make the arrangements. Frankie nodded numbly and told him that it had been Grace's wish to be cremated. The time was set for four the following afternoon. Then they were gone. Sally was sobbing quietly. She went to the bedroom and phoned her parents, explaining the tragedy. Frankie opened the little clutch purse Grace had been carrying. It contained a few dollars and some loose change, her driver's license and a small sealed envelope that was well-worn from handling. Peeling it open, he found the little card that had encased the first three hundred dollars and accompanied his flowers. The one that said: Just because I love you. Pressed inside it was the one rose she had saved from the spray across the hood of the Cadillac.
Frankie went alone to the funeral parlor. Grace was prepared and in one of the "slumber rooms." Thank God, her lovely face had not been disfigured. He bent over the open casket and kissed her good-bye. From his pocket he took the little envelope with the card and the pressed rose. Slipping his hand beneath her dress over the now cold breasts he deposited it next to her heart. He remembered her words: "I will keep this with me ... always."
by tonight Grace would be cremated. The ashes of the card and the rose would be mixed with her own and it would indeed be with her for always. Now he slowly closed the casket.
"Good-bye, Auntie Mine. I'll never forget you or stop loving you."
Then he turned and walked briskly from the parlor back to the car to go pick up his new wife and the threads of his new life.
