Brad Parks stared at himself in his bathroom mirror, and liked what he saw. At thirty-eight, he was still rangy and solid, without the telltale potbelly and the stooped shoulders of an office worker-though that was what he had been for the past fifteen years. Tonight he was celebrating leaving that very job, where he had been an account executive for Marbele, Davis & Costro, and opening his own ad agency shop in the Wrigley Building. This morning he'd gone down to the superintendent and paid a month's rent in advance for his new office, and as he left the sign painter was busy painting the name "Brad Parks, Public Relations and Advertising" on the door for everyone to see.
There would be plenty of customers coming through that door, too. That was why he had taken the gamble, the big gamble. He could have stayed at the big agency and coasted along on his merits and pulling down a thousand dollar Christmas bonus, maybe edging into a vice-presidency in a couple of years more when old Dan Costro decided to retire. But he was still young enough to want to make a pile before he got too old to enjoy it. There were too many of those advertising guys around who waited until they were in their late fifties or early sixties to call it quits, and by then they had ulcers, high blood pressure, and had trouble getting it up when a pretty girl hove into view.
"Brad, honey, don't tell me you're stopping to take a bath right now and leaving me high and dry," a soft, husky voice called impatiently from the bedroom.
Brad Parks grinned at himself. He was black-haired, and there was hardly any streak of gray showing. He still had all of his own teeth, regular feature, a straight nose, blue eyes that weren't afraid to look a guy in the face or a woman in the pussy. And speaking of pussy, it was high time he got back to bed with Angela Vincent, if he expected to celebrate the way he liked best of all, his stiff prick buried to the roots inside a warm, eager young cunt.
Angela Vincent was the receptionist at the agency where he had worked, and he had always had a yen for her, but it hadn't been good policy to try to make a pass on company time. The senior partners frowned at employees having affairs in the organization, and generally it wasn't a good idea to do it, but Angela had just quit her job, too, because she was going to get married two weeks from today to an Italian banker who had breezed into the agency to learn something about American banking methods which he could take back to Rome, taken one look at Angela's slim loveliness, and decided that was his pasta for the rest of his handsome and romantic life. It had been a whirlwind courtship, with lots of hand kissing, flowers and boxes of candy sent to the agency at all hours, until the senior partners had called Angela in on the carpet and lectured her on not making a spectacle of herself and disgracing the agency. At this point she had told them to go to hell, called up her suitor and told him the answer was yes. Right now he was back in Rome telling his parents about the beautiful American blonde he was going to carry across the threshold, and right now Angela was here in Brad Parks' bed, naked except for smoke-colored stockings and her white satin elastic garterbelt, squirming about impatiently and getting itchier by the moment, if the tone of her voice was any indication.
"Brad! Whatever are you doing?"
"Be patient, baby. When I get back, you'll be sorry you asked," he called good naturedly. He was naked, and he ran his hands down his belly and sides and hips, turned around and saw that he hadn't put on too much fundament, and there was his good seven-inch cock as stiff as a rock and wanting relief from that condition.
What he was really after was a jar of cold cream, because this was the first time he had ever fucked Angela, and he suspected she might be dry and tight. What really amazed him, when she phoned him at his apartment in Hyde Park to tell him the good news about marrying Romero Battaglis, and she had huskily added, "I don't have to fly there for another ten days, lover, and if you meant some of those looks you sent me at the office, I'd sort of like to wind up my career as a bachelor girl with a hot date with you."
Well, he'd taken her at her word. First there had been dinner at the London House, with a jazz band and some of the best roast beef in all Chicago. Then they'd gone to see a movie she especially wanted to see, "I Am Curious (Yellow)" and right from that he got the pretty sure idea she didn't want the evening to end in any hand-kissing. So he had boldly proposed to her, "How about coming to my apartment for a nightcap?"
And Angela Vincent had giggled, rubbed her cheek against his in the darkness of the movie, and murmured, "A nightcap and maybe a nightie - I didn't bring any. Do you mind a girl going to bed raw?" So it had been all set.
He'd shown her around his apartment, because he was rather proud of his own housekeeping. Margaret was in a private high school in Springfield, but she'd be back in about two weeks at the end of the spring semester. He was glad of that, because if she were home now he wouldn't be having Angela waiting on his bed to be fucked. Margaret was his eighteen-year-old-daughter, and she was quite a little lady and probably had never used such words as "fuck" or "prick" or "cunt" in all her charming young life.
He took a pack of Pall Malls from the top of the laundry hamper, lit one, and stared into the mirror. He wished that things had been a little different. Claire, whom he'd married when he was just nineteen and she was two years younger, had been a scatterbrained, warmhearted and warmpussied black-haired piece, as hungry for cock as he had been for cunt. She had got pregnant right away, and then they'd both been working to make ends meet, and she'd done some overtime work at night for an old wholesale grocer. Then one wintery night a couple of hoodlums had come by to rob the old man, and Claire had been in the way, and one of them had shoved her down the stairs and she'd broken her neck.
That had sobered him in a helluva hurry. He'd gone to his dad and borrowed five grand, payable on a ten-year note, just to make sure that his baby daughter didn't starve or have to go into a foundling home. His dad hadn't approved of the marriage to start with, and he'd wanted Brad to come into his own hauling business. But Brad had been tops in English and Short Story Writing in school, and he'd done a little writing for the school paper, and he didn't want to drive a truck and lift pianos for a living, even if it was a good one. So he'd gone to college on a scholarship, got a job right afterward with a small agency, and two years later been tagged by the big boys as a junior copywriter.
The only trouble with that whole deal was that he hadn't got to know Margaret very much. He'd had to get a housekeeper, and then he finally decided to send her away to school when she was about twelve. She was a raving beauty now, but somehow when he was with her, he didn't feel that she was his own flesh and blood. She was prim and proper, she hardly smiled, and she didn't like the boys one little bit.
"Brad Parks! If you don't come in here and take care of me, I'm going out into the street and see if I can flag down somebody who will take pity on a poor squirmy girl like me!" Angela called.
He tossed the cigarette into the toilet, turned and opened the bathroom door--and there was Angela. She was really a dish, and that Italian banker was going to have something to show off that would make all his friends envious. Five feet six, with green eyes, and a small, pouting, ripe-red-mouth, clear white skin, big juicy titties set closely together, and firmly able to stand up without a bra if necessary, a slim waist that veered into appetizingly rounded hips, too full thighs, sleek calves. He liked her better this way than if she was all naked; the smoke colored nylons showed up her white skin even more tantalizingly and his prick began to throb madly with lust.
"Well, that's more like it," she said, mollified. "Now hurry up and take care of me. You don't know how long I've waited for this."
"If Romero could only hear you now, let alone see you, baby!" he chuckled as he slipped into bed beside her, turned to her and put his left arm around her shoulders and drew her to him.
Angela whimpered, pressing herself forward until her nipples scraped his hairy chest and her mouth crushed against his as she grabbed for him. Her left hand went between their bodies and squeezed his prickhead, and he began to have some doubts about her being cherry.
"Hey now, girl," he muttered thickly, because he hadn't had a girl's hand on his cock for longer than he cared to remember. "If you try that on Romero on your wedding night, he'll know you're not a good girl. Didn't I read somewhere that the old Italian matriarchs insist on looking at the sheets the next morning to make sure their new daughters were pure?"
"Oh, hell with that, Brad Parks!" Angela impatiently whispered, as she gave his prick an exasperated little squeeze, "Romero knows I'm not a virgin. But he just wants a blonde to take home to Mama Mia. Oh my goodness, is all that going into little me?"
"I'll bet it's bigger than your husband-to-be's," he quipped, as he prodded the soft, twitching lips of her cunt, having already seen that she was dark brown between the legs, not silver blonde. "By the way, if you want to bring Mama Mia a real blonde, you'd better take along a bottle of dye, just in case."
"Oh, you're impossible! Just stop talking and fuck me! I was wondering if being on that job was going to make me an old maid, I really was. Do you know, I haven't had a good fuck in over a year?"
"Well, it's your own fault. All you ever needed to do was tap me on the shoulder and invite me up to your pad, and I could have remedied that little problem for you in short order."
"I didn't dare. You know old Mr. Costro looks down his glasses at any girl who wears even a hint of a miniskirt or too much lipstick. You can just imagine what it would be like if I showed up late some morning with circles under my eyes and he guessed that I had been fucking. Oh, darling, put some big circles there right now! Ohh, it's so big, and I'm so tight -- oh, Lordy!"
"That's why I put cold cream on it, baby. There, it's half in now take it easy and it'll feel all the nicer."
"Mmmmmmm, it's wonderful. Oh, don't hurry, I want to enjoy this. Brad?"
"What?"
"Do you think I have nice titties? Aren't they a little too big? Don't you think he'll think they are too big?"
"Considering the fact that your sweet ass is almost boyish, they are too big in a way, but a nice, sexy way. By the way, Italians love big titties, because they mean more milk for the babies that Romero is probably going to give you. I'll bet he is, too." "I know. He says he wants a boy right away, and then a girl, and then two more boys and then another girl."
"Well, I can see you won't have any extracurricular time if I decide to visit Rome some day when I make my pile."
"Just make me, will you, and forget the rest? Oh, darling, let me get on top and wriggle on down and take it all. Mmm!" Suiting the action to the word, Angela Vincent wriggled on top of him as he obligingly rolled over on his back, spreading his legs so she could get well between them. Then he clamped his legs over her thighs and reached down to grab the bottom he had just described as boyishly compact, which it certainly was. Long oval cheeks, beautifully proportioned lo go with muscular long thighs, full of vigorous energy. Romero would be honked out if he tried to keep pace with his new American wife, Brad Parks thought.
Then he decided not to think at all. He liked what he was feeling. Her skin was warm and moist, and her warm cunt squeezed his stiff prick in the most delicious, indescribable way. She lay tightly against him absorbing every inch he had, all eight of them. He could feel the flickering quiver of her vagina walls as she basked in the limbo of a fucking interlude. He was massaging her buttocks, and now he slipped his forefinger into the dainty rosette and playfully goosed her. Angela let out a squeal and began to squirm wildly, as if in touching that spot of hers, he had set off a dynamo in her organism. Her face was flushed and taut with passion, her eyes wide and sparkling with lust, and as she lifted and sank down, her titties and belly smacked against him, making him shudder with the lascivious sound and the feel of that firm, warm flesh merging to his.
But there was something basically aggressive in his nature which led him, after a few minutes of this passive action, to decide to take the upper hand. Gripping her by the bottom, he rolled her over until she was under him and he on top.
"Now you're really going to get fucked!" he muttered hoarsely. His mouth crushed her, and he felt her tongue dagger between his lips, and his shuddering body began to move in a rhythmic compulsion in and out of her. He could feel the warm tight volutes of her tight cunthole gripping and tipping his delving prong, and he could feel the bite of her fingernails into his back. He kept his right hand under her bottom, while his left cupped one of those panting round bubbies of hers, his thumb pad rubbing the nipple back and forth until he could feel it turgify. With his right forefinger, he rubbed back and forth against her dainty asshole, and now Angela Vincent began to buck and swerve and squirm, passionately, back and forth.
"Ohhh, that's so good-harder-oh, do it harder, darling-oh my, oh Brad--hurry,--I'm going to come-quickly -oh, it's wonderful, it's so good, oh Brad, oh Brad, oh, BRAD!"
At the last "Brad" she flung her stockinged legs over his bottom and held on for dear life as he belly jerked and twisted and her pelvic basin drove frantically against him to draw out all the juices. He ground his teeth and tried to hold back, waiting until the last moment to be master. And then the clinging, cajoling, gripping of her tight, warm, moist cunt was too much, and he felt himself burst into her and heard his own voice shout out in ecstasy of this orgasmic fulfillment.
As they lay blissfully side by side a few moments later, smoking a cigarette together, Angela looked over at him and give him a wistful little smile, as she flipped her free hand towards his still somewhat stiffened prick. "Brad?"
"What, angel?"
"Why hasn't a good-looking guy like you ever got married?"
"I did."
"Oh? What was the matter -- didn't it take?"
"It took fine. I've got a kid away in school. But my wife died not long after her birth. A couple of robbers went up to the office where she was working late one night, and she got mixed up in the scuffle and fell down the stairs."
"Oh, you poor darling, how terrible for you! But, my gracious, I'd never have dreamed that you'd had a kid. How old is she?"
"Old enough to be married. Eighteen."
"You certainly know how to keep a secret, darling. You know, all the time you used to come in the reception room and glance at me, I could feel my pussy getting awful itchy and I was glad I had a great big desk so you couldn't see I had to squeeze my legs together so hard. I used to dream about you at night, honest I did."
"You did?"
"Yes, and about this monster. But I never dreamed he'd be this big!" Now her fingers took hold of his prick and began to pinch and draw on the meatus. Brad Parks could feel his energies restored, and he bent his head and kissed one of Angela's titties, then took the nipple in his mouth and sucked on it lovingly, rubbing it with his tongue tip.
"Oh darling, it's going to be a long time to Rome. Can you go again? I'm still hot!" she breathed.
"Put that cigarette out and I'll show you," he dared her.
Angela crushed out the cigarette in the little ashtray on the night table and held out her arms to him. His cigarette joined hers, and his prick went back into the now familiar way. She was moister, but she was still deliciously tight, and after a few minutes of thrusting deliciously in and out, his prick was just as hard as it had been before the first using.
"Do me again the same way -- put your finger you know where, lover," she panted as she locked her arms around his neck and clamped her legs over his thighs and began to arch up to him, timing herself so she would fit to him tightly and take all of him up to the hilt.
But this time he decided to take the aggressive role again. Perhaps he just didn't like a girl telling him what to do. It was much too bossy. So he put his forefinger into her pussy until he felt the stiff little nodule of her tickler, and Angela Vincent forget all about wanting it this way or that as she shouted out, "Oh, yes! Oh, that's even nicer! Oh, darling, you're driving me crazy! Oh, honey! Oh, lover! Fuck me, don't ever stop, harder, faster, please, Brad, Darling!"
Rubbing her clitoris back and forth, flattening it down into the little cowl of pink pussyflesh, he began to go back and forth inside of her, and because he had already shot his wad, it was much easier to maintain self control now, until he was ready to meet her anguished and impatient wriggling.
But the suction of that sweet, tight cunt of hers undid him once more, and all too soon the glorious union ended as he felt himself burst again into her depths, and this time he felt her teeth sink into his shoulder as her body rocked and jerked and bucked as she yielded to the grip of orgasm.
CHAPTER TWO
It had been a great weekend with Angela Vincent, but it was over and Monday was here and this was the first day of starting into business for himself. It was a sunny day too, a good omen, Brad Parks thought as he whistlingly dressed in front of his dresser mirror, straightened his tie, and then left his apartment for his Thunderbird to drive down the Outer Drive to the Wrigley Building. This was the part about Chicago that he liked the best, the skyline and the view of the lake, the green parks and the trees and the hedges, and the feeling that no matter what was wrong with the world, out here on the Windy City there was still a chance of making your dream come true, whether it be more money or business or pussy. He had long considered himself a charter member of the Girl Watchers Society, and if he were ever called to testify in court, he would be willing to swear that you wouldn't find a better vintage of shapely-legged beauties than on Michigan Avenue. And where he had his office in the Wrigley Building was one of the real vantage spots of the city, because there were more lovely pieces of tail per capita in that building than in any other one on Chicago's "Main Drag."
He parked his car in the garage beneath the building, but didn't go right up on the elevator. Instead, he walked up to the street level and then out to the river bridge so that he could walk in the main entrance and watch all the pretty girls thronging through the front doors hurrying to their jobs because it was just about nine o' clock. He was the boss, and that felt good. He could be as late as he wanted and no one would look daggers at him and at the clock. There went a redhead with high heels that made her calves shift and quiver, and she had on a miniskirt and a cute little felt turban and a clinging pleated skirt. There was nothing like a pleated skirt to shape out a girl's ass and thighs. He had a last cigarette, and finally when the clock read five after nine, he walked into the lobby, bought a pack of cigarettes and a package of gum, and then entered the elevator and told the operator he wanted the ninth floor.
Dan Trask, a crackerjack commercial artist, had left the agency to come over here with him as his top man in the art department. Of course he couldn't afford to pay Dan the salary he'd been getting before, but he'd worked out a deal whereby Dan would own a piece of the action and a percentage of the profits. Dan was forty, had just lost his wife after fourteen years of marriage, and was in the mood for breaking free of the chains that bound him just to have a regular salary because he had a family. There weren't any children. In some ways, Dan was lucky. He himself had to keep on working and making money to support Margaret, a daughter he rarely saw and who he still felt didn't resemble him or remind him of the love he'd once had for Claire. And of course that wasn't her fault at all.
He'd hired a good copywriter, Ed Solters, who'd just come back from a freelancing year in Europe where he'd earned his keep by contributing a few feature articles to rotogravure sections and was eager for a change, and he'd also told Ben Thalberg to come see him this morning about working as an account-getter. New business was what every new agency needed, and as fast as possible. A small agency could afford to gamble and build a small account into a substantial one by helping it grow, by giving it merchandising ideas and picking up campaigns that didn't cost too much but would do a job. Even if the client didn't get big, he would be successful enough to give the agency a good reference when it went out after other business. That was how you operated in the advertising and public relations field.
He opened the door of his suite of offices, and found everybody standing there waiting to greet him as the big boss. That was a nice feeling too. They all shook hands around, and Mabel Carruthers, the plain but hardworking middle-aged switchboard operator whom he'd lured away from his old job, had had the foresight to pick up a box of Danish pastry and to make some coffee for all hands. That, a cigarette, and a general get-together session started them off the right way on this first Monday of the new venture.
He was going to have a secretary, but he didn't know exactly where to look for one. Employment agencies these days charged the employer the fee for girls, and they didn't do much screening. You might get a pretty thing who was looking for a sugar daddy or again just a temporary stopgap until her boyfriend made enough dough to pop the question before he popped her cherry-and very often he was popping it already and she had her mind more on prick after hours than her work during hours. Maybe he'd ask Mabel, who was a pretty good judge of women, to help him find a real good girl.
Another thing, his secretary would have to double in brass and take care of the books, at least until they got big enough to need a fulltime bookkeeper. That was going to be extra hard to find, and it would mean a pretty big salary. He started with two good accounts, the Henton Furniture Manufacturing Company and the Bidwell Frozen Foods line. This was a new but swiftly growing and expanding food packer, who would one day be getting national distribution and spend a wad of dough in advertising and public-relations billings. That gave him a good idea. Old Bob Cartwright, the sales manager, might just have a couple of girls over there who would like the opportunity to work in the Loop and would be familiar enough with agency procedures to help out.
Bob was in and his cute young secretary, Edna, joshed Brad a little before she put her boss on. If it wasn't that looking for pussy with one of your best clients was just as dangerous as in your own agency, he would have dated Edna several times over. She was twenty, vivacious, a terrific dancer and she had a mouthwatering pair of pearshaped titties that just jiggled against every dress she wore. He didn't know how old Bob Cartwright could stand it staring at her all day long without getting a hard-on. Bob was a widower and often went to stags and was known to have spent a wad of dough for an expensive callgirl at the Frozen Food convention in New York last summer. But he treated Edna like his own little daughter. That was just playing it smart.
"I'd sure like to help you out, Brad," Bob Cartwright replied after he had listened to Brad's pitch, "but everybody over here is pretty well satisfied and settled. I tell you what, though, last week I had a very striking young woman come in to see me. Well, not too young. She's about thirty-seven, but she looks ten years younger. She was looking for a job, because she just lost her hubby to a floozie. The divorce became final a couple of weeks ago, and she's got two young girl's to support. I couldn't give her too much encouragement--hey, I just happen to have her name and address and phone number on a slip of paper inside my desk. Why don't you call her and see if she's still looking for a job? As I recall, she'd done a little bookkeeping for her husband's firm and she took pretty fair dictation. I mean, about seventy words a minute. Quite a looker, too."
Brad Parks thanked his friend, promised to take Brad to lunch at his expense at once of the fancy Loop restaurants one of these days, and made a date for Thursday morning to confer about future advertising campaigns. Then he dialed the number Bob had given him. A soft, thrillingly feminine voice answered the phone: "Hello, this is Sheila Davis."
"Mrs. Davis? This is Brad Parks. I happened to be talking to Bob Cartwright at Bidwell, and he tells me that you were looking for a job. If you're still in the market, I just might have something for you. I'm opening my own ad agency today and I need a good secretary and also someone who could do a little bookkeeping until we blossom out big enough to need a fulltime bookkeeper."
"What, that was awfully nice of Mr. Cartwright. I am still looking, to tell you the truth, Mr. Parks. I did a little bookkeeping, because my husband owned his own service station and let me keep the figures because he wasn't very good at that. At least, not the black and white kind." She uttered a bitter little laugh. He remembered what Bob Cartwright had said about her losing her guy to some sexy tramp.
"Well, why don't you come down here and let me take you to lunch and we can talk things over. It's much more friendly that way than a cold-turkey interview, because I like to talk to a person under relaxed conditions."
"That's awfully nice of you, and I'd like that very much."
He told her where he was, and said he'd look forward to seeing her. Then he went out and sat down with the new account-getter and spent the next couple of hours figuring leads from which business might be derived...
At twelve noon on the dot the door opened and an absolutely breath-taking dark-brownhaired beauty walked in, with a chic little toque, dark brown pleated skirt and a light cloth coat. Her legs were luscious and they were sheathed in beige nylon hose. Brad Parks came out of his office, introduced himself and hurriedly suggested they go downstairs to the Wrigley Building Restaurant for Lunch. He got a couple of suggestive winks from the rest of his crew, but ignored them.
Sheila Davis was just too good to be true. And Bob Cartwright was correct: she looked more twenty-seven than thirty-seven. Her face was oval, sensitive, with gray-green eyes, a dainty snub nose, and a full sweet mouth. She had soft tawny skin, was bout five feet five-and-a-half inches in height, and an absolutely stunning pair of widely spaced round titties, a slim waist, a round spankable bottom and full delicious thighs and neatly rounded calves which made his prick throb with interest the moment he sat down across the table from her. He liked the way she talked, he liked the sort of breathless tone she had because it suggested bed.
She had two daughters, just as Bob Cartwright had said. And she went on at great length about them, because obviously she was proud of them although they did give her trouble at times. One was Nancy, fourteen and coppery haired and very precocious. The other was Betty, seventeen, black-haired and inclined to be very haughty and think herself quite adult.
Her husband's service station had been a gold mine, and he hadn't been too well educated, but she'd helped him with the books and showed him how to advertise and do certain things which got him plenty of business. And after she'd spent the best years of her life on him, he'd suddenly gone gaga over some sexy bitch who'd driven up in an Impala, and the next thing Sheila Davis knew, her hubby was spending his nights over at that little bitch's apartment.
Brad Parks made a decision impulsively, and his prick had more to do with it than his logic. He hired Sheila, and he told her she could start work that afternoon if she wanted to.
He didn't know it, but his hiring Sheila Davis was going to change his life and give him the most exciting and unusual harem any modem man ever had. He wasn't going to have time to even miss or thing about Angela Vincent's cunny, because he was going to find young pussy at his beck and call!
CHAPTER THREE
At the very moment that Sheila Davis and Brad Parks were having lunch and looking over each other with a prospective view toward becoming employee and employer respectively, Nancy and Betty Davis were in the latter's bedroom in the little Davis bungalow on Surf Street, both clad only in their bra and panty sets. Sheila couldn't guess that her two daughters had already discovered the forbidden joys of Sappho and had tried girl-fucking quite a few times during the past few months. It wasn't to say that they were dykes by nature, but since Sheila herself was quite strict about dates and only permitted Betty, the older girl, a date on Friday and Saturday nights and then to be home no later than eleven-thirty, the two girls had done some experimentation.
It had all come about some six months ago when Nancy was asking her older sister what it was like to have a guy cuddle you and cop a free feel. Betty had giggled, stretched her arms beyond her head and looked dreamily up at the ceiling and murmured, "It's just super keen, that's what it is, Nancy honey. Bill Foster, he's the guy I went to the movie with last Saturday, and it's a good thing Mom doesn't know that he's got roving hands or I'd be strictly off limits for him--anyway, he was awfully fresh. He stuck his hand under my skirt and he had his other arm around my waist till I thought I would lose my breath. And he kept putting his fingers up higher and higher till they were on my bare leg above my stocking and near my--you know what."
Nancy had already begun to experience the juvenile pangs of an itching pussy, and she had a vague dream in which handsome boys figured, though she wasn't specific as to details. So she sat there that afternoon while her mother was at the service station totaling up her hubby's accounts (and he in turn was in a motel fucking his cute new chick). "Did he--did he actually touch you there, Betty?" Nancy breathlessly wanted to know.
"Uh-uh, I didn't let him. Not that time. But the time before we went to the movies, he got all the way up there and he tickled me so nice I got all wet and squirmy. It was so exciting I didn't know what to do, and I wanted him to do it some more, but I didn't dare tell him, because maybe he would get too fresh."
That dialogue had led Nancy to demand a further and more explicit explanation. Nothing loath, luscious black haired Betty had peeled down to just her slip and then, lofting it above her thickly black-haired virgin cunt, had put a slim forefinger to her slit and begun to tickle the rims of those soft pink lips. Nancy watched, her eyes shining and incredulous. "Ooh, lemme touch it there too, and see if it tickles as nice," she finally proposed. Betty had blushed, and then giggling permitted this sisterly exploration. And the result had been mutual frigging, which had drawn both girls to creaming and led them later on to explore the possibilities of stripping naked and lying entwined while they rubbed cunts together and kissed and put their tongues in each other's mouth.
And so, this noon, both of them were now quivering with desire and wanting to go still further though they weren't quite sure how to proceed. Nancy naturally looked up to her older sister as being more hep to what was going on. "Have you let Bill put his--you know, his thing-in your quimmy?" she whispered. Betty shook her head, her ivory cheeks flaming. "Oh my gosh no," she breathed. "He sure wants to, but I make him do it with his finger instead, and sometimes I frig him with my hand in a handkerchief. The poor guy is practically crazy to get into me, but I don't dare. First of all, I don't think he has a safe, and second of all, I don't have any pills. You know, daddy always used a rubber."
"Betty Davis!" Nancy gasped, wide-eyed, "you mean to say that Dad put his think inside Mother's quimmy?"
"You stupid little dummy, don't you know that that's how we got born? Of course he does. But because she doesn't want any more kids, she makes him use a rubber. Or maybe, she uses what they call a diaphragm or something, I don't know. Or maybe she just uses a douche bag. Anyhow, I happen to know that she's mad at Daddy because he was putting his thing in another girl's quim and that's why they got divorced, if you want to know."
Until this moment, Nancy hadn't really understood why her parents had separated and why her mother had been seen with swollen reddened eyes shortly after a last private session with their father. But a new world of information was opening up to her.
"You mean--you actually put your hand on Bill's thing?"
"It's not a thing, it's a cock. Or a prick or sometimes he calls it his John Henry. It's not really too big, and he gets awful excited and he can't hold it very long. I know, because he got my nice new handkerchief all wet in a couple of seconds after I started playing with him. But I let him put his finger all the way inside my pussy up to what he called my cherry," Betty told her fascinated younger sister.
The two girls were really a contrast in physical beauty. Nancy, with her coppery-red hair in a flowing long pageboy, with saucy, oval shaped face and, a slim, almost boyish body that nonetheless boasted surprisingly ripe uptilting young pear-bubbies, spacious oval bottom cheeks and long slim thighs and calves, had pale milky skin enhanced with rosy flecks. Betty, her black hair worn in a fashionable upsweep, had a heart-shaped face, Grecian nose, full wide tremulous mouth, and deliciously dimpled chin. Her titties were closely space, round and firm; her waist was supple, giving way to - delightfully rounded hips, and her bottomcheeks were upstanding, with a gradually widening cleavage between the globes. She had beautifully curving, ripe thighs and high-set calves and her skin was a warm olive. She also had an adorable little mole an inch and a half below her navel, very near her pussy and a brown tiny oval birthmark on her inner right thigh. She was in the senior year at Trenton High School, and would be graduated next February, while Nancy had just started lower tenth grade. Betty had had to miss one whole semester about two years ago when she had a belated attack of chicken pox. But since both girls got pretty good grades, their mother had really not too much concern over their scholastic ability; what bothered her was that she suspected the girls were thinking thoughts a little beyond their years and particularly on the subject of boys. And because of what her husband had done, Sheila Davis was scared to death her girls might turn out to be prick chasers and fall for the first guy with a stiff cock and a good line.
"I wonder what it would be like to have a boy's cock inside of my quimmy," Nancy mused with a dreamy sigh.
"Well, I could use my finger and you could pretend it was a cock," Betty whispered as she knelt upon the bed and reached under her sister's back to unfasten the hooks and eyes of the skimpy nylon bra. "Oh, what sweet little titties you've got, Nancy honey! I just have to kiss them--may I?"
'Course, Betty--but you gotta lemme kiss yours too," Nancy countered.
Betty giggled, blushed a little, then reached behind her and let her bra flutter down to the bed. Her magnificent bubbies swelled with ardor, and Nancy's eyes glowed as they fixed them, seeing the dark coral circles and the pert little buds in the centers. "Oh my, yours are awfully nice, Betty! Much nicer than mine. Mine are too small."
"Some fellows won't think so. Bill says that some guys like a girl's bottom and legs, while others go for her titties-that's the word he used for those, Nancy sweetie." With this, Betty put out a hand and caressed one of her sister's bubbies, stroking it gently, rubbing her palm over the adorable pert bud until Nancy gasped and felt it stiffen while tingling sensations began to seep through her.
"Oh hurry, I'm getting so warm between my legs, Betty," she breathed, arching up and slipping down her own panties to expose her adorable pink cunt with only a soft dark-reddish fleece of pussyhair that did not quite conceal the provocative orifice.
Her hazel eyes widened with expectation as she stared at her sister's face: "Am I? Am I nice down there, Betty?"
"You've got an adorable little quimmy, Nancy baby. Some boy is just going to go crazy wanting to get his cock inside of it, you watch and see."
"Take your panties off and let me put my finger on your spot, Betty honey," Nancy pleaded.
And soon both girls were naked as they day they were born, lying side by side turned to face each other, their hands caressing titties and bottoms as they gently kissed.
"Show me what you mean," Nancy whispered, "I mean, you know, about a finger being like a cock."
"All right. I'll put my finger in yours and you do the same for me. I'll tell you where to tickle me where it feels the best, because Bill found it out and whenever he wants to do it now, I make him promise he has to touch ray little button," Betty explained.
"Oooh, it sounds so exciting, Betty! Show me, please!"
"All right." Betty knelt astride her sister's thighs looking down at Nancy's provocative, blushing face. With her left hand, she fondled one of Nancy's sweet pert bubbies, and her right forefinger playfully traced a circle round the gently fleeced pussy, tickling with just the evanescent pad of the fingertip and just grazing the sweet, sensitive virgin pussyflesh of the vulva. Nancy began to squirm and gasp, her face reddening, her eyes shining: "Oooooh! Oh that's so nice! Oh Betty honey, I could just die, it feels so good! Is that what it's like?"
"Of course not silly, because I'll bet you've done that all by yourself at night, haven't you?" Nancy blushed, nodded and looked away.
"But you see," Betty confided, "I'll bet you haven't found out yet how to really go off, I mean blast. Now wait till I touch your button. There... do you feel that?" So saying, she intruded her slim forefinger into the dainty quim, till she reached the dainty little nodule hidden away in its protective little hood. No sooner had she touched it than Nancy's head rose, and the younger girl uttered a piercing cry, "Aahhhh! It's like electricity was turned on inside of me, Betty! Oh gosh, that was really exciting!"
"Keep it down to a roar, Sis," Betty giggled. "Even if Mom isn't here, we don't want any of the nasty old neighbors hearing you squeal like that and maybe figuring out what's going on. Now you do it to me. Just reach your hand up and feel inside my pussy till you feel the little button there and then rub it slowly back and forth, that's what Bill does."
"Like this?" Nancy hazarded as she tentatively approached her forefinger up into the furry fork of her sister's crotch. Betty, for her age, was quite thickly fleeced with soft curly silken black hair, which hid her mouth. But in this kneeling-astride pose, the soft fleshier lips of her cunt gaped and pouted ever so prettily as if yearning for such a caress with either finger or prick. Of course, both girls were virgins to the male cock-but in their minds, they were already young Lolitas!
CHAPTER FOUR
Deliciously naked from head to toe, the lovely Davis sisters now lay down side by side facing each other, and young Nancy impulsively cupped Betty's cheeks in her hands and kissed her brunette sister on the mouth. "You're just so gorgeous, I could eat you up!" she breathed excitedly. "I just hate to think of some nasty old boy is going to maul you and do dirty things to you, Betty honey."
"But they're not dirty, silly, not if I like them and want to have BUI do them to me," Betty loyally protested. "You're still too young to know what it's all about, Sis. You wait maybe another year and you'll start getting itchy between your legs for a guy, you just wait and see."
"But wouldn't it hurt awfully if a boy put his-you know--his thing into your little hole?" Nancy anxiously asked.
"I told you I was going to show you. Now let's go back to what we were doing before. No, we can lie like this, so that I can kiss you and play with your sweet little titties," Betty advised almost maternally. "Here, put your finger into my slit, and I'll do the same for you. There now. Put it back in my button. There. Now you can feel mine on your button, can't you?"
"Ooooh yes, oh yes I can, Betty!" Nancy squealed, wriggling lasciviously as her sister's evanescent touch on her clitoris roused indescribably sensations which began to get out of control. She couldn't help jerking her hips or tensing her thighs, and she involuntarily moved closer to Betty until their bellies and bubbies were rubbing together, and then she kissed Betty again on the mouth. Betty put her left hand to the back of Nancy's head and prolonged the kiss, foraging even deeper with her right forefinger till she came up against the virgin barrier which proclaimed Nancy's cherry. At this, the younger girl winced and gasped: "Oh, what is it!"
"Silly, that proves you've never been with a boy," Betty giggled. "I've got one too. That's what stops a girl from letting a fellow screw her unless they're married, or unless she or he is absolutely sure there won't be a baby. Mother would just tan our hides raw if she ever thought we were thinking about-well, screwing. That's for grownups, at least that's what they say."
"I bet it would hurt to push through that," Nancy dubiously murmured. Now she flung one lovely bare leg over Betty's hip and arched herself closer, while her finger tentatively sought Betty's own hymeneal seal.
"Oh yes, darling, that's it, just rub the sides a little, oh, you're making my pussy feel so good," Betty huskily murmured. Her other hand had now moved over to cup one of her sister's saucy firm titties, her thumb pad rubbing the delicate nipple back and forth until Nancy could feel tingling sensations firm it and make it dark with longing. Her face was flushed now and her eyes were sparkling, and a restless energy began to take hold of her. The rubbing of their satiny naked flesh against each other had begun to produce sensual desire in Sheila Davis's younger daughter who had not yet even been kissed by the opposite sex but already was envious of her older sister's adventures with the male.
"Gee," Nancy murmured after a moment, "you've got lots more hair on your quimmy than I have on mine."
"Silly, that's because I'm lots older," Betty giggled. "Now rub your finger against my little button and I'll do the same for you and we'll both have that wonderful glowing feeling I told you Bill gave me. And you can pretend it's a boy if you want to, Nancy honey."
So saying, the black-haired older girl began slyly to rub Nancy's tickler with just the tip of her soft slim finger, back and forth, side to side, then at times pressing it back into the hidden cowl of loveflesh, and soon Nancy began to squirm and wriggle and moan and sob in her delirium. Less expert, her own finger moved awkwardly in Betty's quim, but the older girl had closed her eyes and was pretending that Bill was frigging her right now and soon her own nipples began to harden and darken, and the lips of her pussy grew moist with the sweet secretion distilled by Venus to ease the way for a male prick's entry and its vigorous rasping down along the tender, secret crannies of Betty Davis's young voluptuous cunt hole.
But since Betty had already been inoculated with lust-fever by her unidentified adolescent boyfriend Bill, her own reactions were far more fiery than Nancy's. Suddenly, with a groan, she rolled Nancy over so that her younger sister was beneath her, as if she were the male atop and astride. "Oh honey," she breathed passionately, "put your arms around me and pretend I'm your guy, and I'll make both of us go off, you'll see!"
"What do we do?" innocent but willing Nancy hastily whispered back, her face scarlet with maidenly blushes as well as sexual excitement.
"Just open your legs, lover, there! Now hold me tight, and lock your legs over mine and hold on tight," Betty instructed.
Nancy ingenuously obeyed, and the next thing she knew, Betty was rubbing her cunt furiously up and down against her own, creating a frictional sensation that began to make her feel as if she were melting away inside. "Ohh, ahh, oh it's wonderful, oh Betty, please don't stop, oh it's so good, it's even better than with your fingers!"
"No it isn't, really, because a finger's like a cock, as you will find out one day," Betty corrected, "but just the same, it is nice, isn't it?"
"Ohhh--oh yes, oh goodness yes--please don't stop, oh faster, hurry, I feel tingly all over, Betty honey!" Nancy squealed: She had wrapped her naked legs over Betty's upper thighs, clutching her sister as in a vise, and her arms were tightly clamped around Betty's olive-sheened shoulders. Now she saw her sister's luminous, widened eyes staring down into hers, and then she felt Betty's hot red mouth fuse with hers and apply a sucking, draining, amorous kiss. For a novice in the toils of Lesbos, Betty Davis was extremely imaginative and ardent, and what she lacked in knowledge, she more than made up for in daring experimentation and willful desire.
Now Nancy could feel her sister's entire warm naked body pressing and rubbing against her own. She could feel Betty's titties rasping their flint-hard nipples over hers, and the exquisite, indescribable sensations that began to fill her entire body were overwhelming. Constantly, she felt the soft moist lips of her sister's cunt rubbing back and forth against her own tender young softly fleeced mound, a kind of masturbational ritual the like of which she had never experienced before and which had drawn from her that first impulsive cry that this was far better than what a finger could do. She had forgotten, novice that she was, that Betty's frigging her clitoris had already drawn her practically to the pitch of pussy-passion.
She began to kiss back now, and then she felt Betty's tongue probe between her lips and meet her own tongue, and an electrifying current swept through her. "Oh golly, oh Betty, what are you doing to me? It's crazy--it's wonderful--I'm flying--I'm soaring--ohhh, oh Betty, honey, I wish you were a fellow, so you could love me real good and like a fellow does, like your Bill--Oh Betty, oh hurry, I'm going to die, I'm going to faint, oh do it to me, do it to me hard!" she moaned.
Betty had quickened her frictional tempo now. Her beautiful bottom contracted, the cheeks yawning and tightening, as she rubbed herself back frantically over her sister's soft pouting and now moistening crotch. Nancy's legs shifted and clamped solidly over Betty's bare behind, locking her sister's pelvis to her with a furious possessive hold, as the two young naked sisters, mouth sucking mouth, tongue rapiering against eager tongue, launched themselves towards that stellar nirvana which brings sublime and ineffable fulfillment and delight.
Betty was the first to feel her spasm on her, as Nancy now improvised by sliding her right hand down to Betty's bottom and goosing her sister. It was a happy inspiration, and Betty began to wriggle and twist and grind and jerk herself frantically as she felt her tides well up within her and then burst their dam.
"Oh baby, that's wonderful, where did you ever learn that? It's naughty but oh how nice it is--oh deeper into me, it's like a cock, oh my, oh Nancy give it to me!"
Nancy forced her dainty finger as far as she could into Betty's tight humid asshole, and began to wiggle it back and forth. She was rewarded by Betty's almost maddened and cataclysmic squirming, by Betty's tongue delving deep into her mouth, by the feel of her sister's titties rubbing their hard points against her own panting young orange bubbies and she felt her own nipples stiff with longing. The sweet moisture of their rubbing bellies, the grinding of their moistening cunts, drew them both onward to the abyss of sweet oblivion. And now Betty forced her left forefinger into Nancy's moistening quim and found her now stiffened nodule of her sister's clitoris and began to frig it delicately while Nancy, moaning and sobbing in her paroxysm, began to draw her finger in and out of Betty's quaking, churning, contracting asshole. They both expired with wild cries of frenzied ecstasy, rolling over and over, until finally it was Nancy who came atop, staring down into her sister's limpid, exorbitantly dilated eyes, and feeling her sister's titties heave with wild rapturous panting at the moment of sweet sisterly climax.
They didn't know it, but they had already begun to lay the foundation of their new stepfather's heavenly harem, one even more exquisite and lascivious than even Mohammed dreamed of when he promised his followers they would have beautiful houries in perfumed gardens to comfort them after their life's journeying!
CHAPTER FIVE
It had been a week since Sheila Davis began working for Brad Parks, and she felt very much at home in this comfortable little agency. The work wasn't too difficult, and there weren't too many phone calls to bother her on the switchboard, which she had learned to handle in short order. Mostly, there was typing up a lot of correspondence, which the fellows dictated to her on the typewriter because she had never learned shorthand. And then the sending out of invoices, which weren't too many this first month for very obvious reasons because the agency was just getting started. But it was nice to have her own salary check on Friday afternoon, and not give it to that two-timing husband of hers. She wondered how he and that little tramp were making out. If she knew him at all, and she thought she did, he probably wasn't going to pop for the ring, bell, book and candle, not when he could get pussy for free, and he would probably already be casting around for a new pussy in the offing. It really had been amazing how he had conned her into thinking he was on the up and up and that his prick was dedicated to her cunt and hers alone, Sheila thought morosely.
The trouble was, she'd never let him really know how hot she could get, because they had been sort of opposites. She'd had a pretty good education, graduation from high school with a B plus average, and then two years of evening school where she'd taken a few commercial courses because already she was going around with him and petting and necking like crazy. Only her folks had brought her up to be a virgin and to keep her cherry until the wedding night, and he had finally got so crazy for a piece that he'd told her one afternoon, "Okay, baby, you win. We'll drive over to Crown Point and get married. But I'm telling you in advance, you better be good, because I'm just about blowing my nuts for you." She had turned a fiery red to hear such an obscene compliment, but secretly she had liked it a little. Yes, he'd been quite the opposite, sturdy, the back-slapping type, a great salesman at the service station, and everybody liked him. At home, he was just an animal when it came to bed. He would stick it in without even caring whether she got her ashes hauled, so long as he could go off and then roll over and go to sleep. No wonder he had been looking for a different kind of pussy, somebody who would make a fuss over him, and tell him what a wonderful cocksmith he was! Well, she had never done that and she wouldn't do it for any man.
Just the same, now that she had got used to regular marital fucking all these years, it was really rough to toss and turn all night long and finally, when some nights got too hard to bear, reach for the bottle of sleeping pills. The real way to sleep was for a woman to get thoroughly honked out with fucking, so that she just drifted into a sweet dreamless slumber and woke up with her guy playing around with her titties and feeling against her warm bare thigh his stiff cock which told her that he wanted to start the morning right. Only it had never been that way between them, and what a damn fool he had been not to show her a little bit more consideration because she could have really been his cunt-slave for life.
He'd never been really in the habit of complimenting her, of saying any nice things about her clothes or anything. His invariable habit when they went to bed was to turn to her, put a hand on her cunt, and mutter, "How about it, Sheila sweetie?" And of course, she had never wanted to deny him, not only because he was her legal husband, but also because her pussy craved attention in the worst way. But how maddening it had been all those years to feel his good stiff prick digging down hard into her cunt and rousing her slowly up to fever-pitch, only to feel suddenly his burst of spunk and then have his roll off her and sigh, "That was great, baby, good night." She could really have killed him!
But the problem of Nancy and Betty was becoming paramount in her life now. If this job worked out, it would give her greater financial security. She had a settlement from her ex-hubby, but it really wasn't enough. Besides, he had a legal out in remarrying and moving to the other side of the country, then of course if she got married again, she'd have to make out on her own without his help. But for the time being, what Brad Parks paid her and what little she got from that louse would tide her over. But money wouldn't solve her growing annoyance with both her daughters, not by a long shot.
Sheila had suspected for some time now that seventeen year old Betty was getting boy-crazy, and she had an unhappy presentiment about it. If it hadn't been for her own rebellion against her strict parents, and her desire to find love, she mightn't have picked the girls' father and really made a mess of her life. Here she was at thirty-seven, just at her physical and sensual peak, when she ought to be getting more screwing than ever, and she didn't even have a husband and while she had him, he'd left her hanging high and dry so many nights. The trouble was that if Betty had inherited her temperament at all, that black-haired minx was very likely in this modern day and age to learn about the pill and how boys could use safes and not give her the nine-month trouble, and just go hog-wild over prick. Sheila Davis knew all the words, though she had never uttered them in the presence of her husband, perhaps because of her own strict upbringing and the long compulsion of their teaching that sex was guilty and only for the darkness and then only when you were married and finally even then only for making a baby.
Betty was really too young to get married, although that would be a good solution if the right boy came along. The trouble was, most fellows who would marry a seventeen year old were probably not much more than nineteen or twenty, and not emotionally or economically able to afford a wife, unless of course -they were the sons of millionaires. And Betty hadn't met any of those yet, Sheila knew perfectly well.
What the girls really needed was a father, a real father who would take the upper hand of them and correct their faults and polish off their rough edges and make them desirable young ladies who could really snap up the right sort of guy when the time came. Now that she was working full time in an office, her supervisory time would be even more limited with the girls. And now that school was out, there was no telling what mischief they were likely to get into with her not there to straighten them out.
The men were all very nice at this office, Sheila decided. But best of all, she liked her boss. He was black-haired, but he didn't have that sleek gigolo look her hubby had. She suspected that he was quite a man in bed, and she found herself guiltily wishing that he would take notice of her. And so she decided, starting with the second week of her employment, to wear more attractive clothes which would draw his attention to her still appetizing charms.
Brad Parks wasn't entirely impervious to his new secretary-bookkeeper-switchboard operator, either. Now that Angela had gone on to Rome and would be kept busy in bed for quite some time, if Romero Battaglia's plans for having a big family materialized, it was high time he found himself some steady pussy. He really wanted a vacation this summer, and he had got cheated out of one last year with the big agency because they'd had him make a marketing survey in Boston and paid him double salary plus a bonus for giving up his three weeks. But now, starting off with a new firm, the idea of a vacation would probably be out again. It was a damn shame. So by way of compensation, a lovely piece of ass to fuck and to be perfectly congenial with him when he had evenings to relax would have to do.
On Sunday afternoon, Sheila Davis got into an argument with her younger offspring, for the coppery-haired Nancy wanted to go to a movie with her best girlfriend, Kitty Dawkins. Sheila put her food down, because she thought that Kitty, a year older than Nancy, was just a trifle too fast for her impressionable daughter. It was well known around the neighborhood that Kitty had about a dozen fellows on the doorstep with their tongues hanging out-and their pricks probably too, if Kitty's rather wayward mother had bequeathed her brownhaired daughter the same temperament!--and Nancy might just learn some specific details about what a girl does with the hairy little slit between her squirmy legs. And if Nancy was going to have to learn what to do when a man wanted to get into her pussy, it was up to her mother to tell her, not some randy little bitch who was going to get kicked out of high school before she reached her senior year.
Unfortunately, Nancy was in a vile mood because she had just found out that they weren't going off to the Dells for their usual summer vacation. Sheila's ex-hubby had taken the two girls there the last couple of years, and they had enjoyed outdoor sports and swimming and horseback riding and tennis. Now, of course, their mother was working and there wouldn't be any thought of summer vacation. Betty had already resigned herself good-naturedly to the prospect, but Nancy was just a little too resentful. She stamped her foot and exclaimed almost tearfully, "Mom, that's not fair! You're just taking it out on us kids because we can't go to the Dells. You know that Kitty is my best friend--"
"If I were you, honey, I'd watch my tongue," Sheila said mildly. She had never raised a hand to her daughters in her life, but at this moment she felt tempted. "If you want to know something, Kitty Dawkins isn't the ideal friend for you. She's a spoiled, selfish and very ill-mannered child, and she's just a little too bold from all I've heard."
"You're just an old fogey, Mom, just a square! So what if Kitty does have lots of boyfriends? Is that a sin?"
"It could be if she doesn't exercise control, honey, but we aren't going to talk about that any more. Now you're not going to that movie with her. If you want to go, I'll take you myself and of course Betty will go along."
"I don't want that! I hate you!" Nancy stamped her foot again and disappeared into her bedroom and banged the door shut. Sheila Davis sighed and shook her head. Maybe Dr. Spock had started this whole nonsense about permissive parents and not frustrating a child's impulses so that he wouldn't grow up to be neurotic or warped or unfulfilled. But there were times when she wished her ex-hubby had given the girls a smack or two on their bottoms when they were rude and saucy, as they both had been around the ages of six and seven. Because now Nancy was getting a little out of hand and she didn't like the signs at all.
So it was a grim and silent Sunday supper evening with Nancy sulking and staring down at her plate and Betty casting nervous glances at her younger sister and then at her mother to find out just what Sheila was thinking about. Finally Sheila couldn't stand it any longer and burst out: "I've had just about enough of this sulking young lady! Now here there's going to be a change for a better, or somehow I'm going to borrow some money and pack you off to summer camp where at least you'll have a counselor to look after you and keep you from getting into trouble. You like outdoor sports so much, you can have all those there."
"You know perfectly well I don't want to go to a camp or school or anything like that, Mom!" Nancy retorted just as angrily. "I'm going to my room and read a book or something. I don't even want any desert, so there!"
Sheila Davis was half tempted to go after her, take her by the ear and march her into her own bedroom, turn her over her lap and apply the flat of the maternal palm to Nancy's saucy bottom, but she thought better of it. It would be such a shocking break with the regimen to which Nancy had become accustomed that she might make an enemy of her daughter instead of teach her to be respectful and communicative.
And so, perhaps subconsciously, wanting a man the worst way, a man who could take charge of her little brood and of her too most of all, Sheila Davis chose her wardrobe the following Monday morning with particular care. She decided to put on a white pleated cotton skirt which did wonders for shaping out the luscious curves of her bottom and thighs which it hugged in the most mouthwatering way. It was a dress with short sleeves and a Peter Pan collar, rather roguish and quite youthful. She could still wear it, though it was rather tight around her bubbies. Well, it didn't matter! After all, a woman in the marriage market had to peddle her ass and titties just as much as a pro did, so why not make the most of what she still had before they started to sag and lose their firmness? Also, she decided to restyle her hair. Perhaps a youthful pageboy, with curls turned under would do the trick. And just a dab of scarlet lipstick to her full sweet mouth, there!
She was first down that morning, though she wasn't entrusted with a key yet, and so she had to wait for the big boss himself. Brad showed up next, and his eyes widened appreciatively when he saw his new employee carrying a light spring coat just in case the air turned cool and standing waiting with her back to him as he came down the corridor out of the elevator. Boy, what a juicy ass she had on her, and what luscious ripe thighs! Then his worry about playing around in his own office entered his mind, and he frowned. If Sheila Davis were working next door, for instance, he could strike up a conversation with her now, invite her out to lunch and maybe cocktails in the evening and dinner and from there on in he would be on his own. But it was a little too obvious to make a pass at a girl he had just hired and expect her to spread her legs and beg for prick.
"Good morning, Mrs. Davis. Beautiful day today," he said affably.
"Oh yes, it is, Mr. Parks."
"I suspect I'd better get you a key. You're starting out setting a good example, coming in ahead of the boss," he chuckled.
Sheila Davis felt a warm tingling up and down her rounded, tawny-sheened thighs. She had the irresistible impulse, mad though it was, to put her arms around him and cuddle against him and tell him that she needed a fucking the worst way. If only people could be honest and forthright and come out with what they wanted, she told herself.
"I wouldn't want to ask for any special favors, Mr.
Parks," was what she did say.
And when she finally got to her desk and put away her purse and hung up her coat and then went into his office to take a quick letter in longhand, thinking how nice he was not to reproach her for not knowing shorthand and to put up with her, the tingling feeling grew when she sat in front of his desk and watched him as he swung halfway around and stared out of the window looking out on the Chicago River. He had an awfully handsome profile, and looked ever so manly. He had a nice firm mouth, and she closed her eyes for a minute and imagined what it would be like coming down on one of her titties with those strong fingers of his squeezing her bottom. She bit her lips because that wasn't any way to think early on a Monday morning about one's own boss.
The letter over, she went back to her desk to type it out and brought it to him for his signature. He glanced up at her, saw the way the top of her dress was hugging those ripe bombers of hers, and felt his own crotch itching pleasantly with that anticipatory feeling that always meant pussy. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her for a date, but he restrained himself. After all, he didn't know anything about her, except that she had two kids and was divorced from apparently a guy who was a louse. She'd done a pretty good job over at the frozen food firm, for she was efficient, and she'd already proved that. What she would be in bed-well, it wasn't his right to think about that yet, if ever.
By the end of the week, he was more and more pleased with her taking hold. A few checks had come in, and she'd already started a single-entry ledger and gone over to the bank to deposit them in the firm's name. He wished to hell he had a little black book for the weekend, because it was going to be a lonely and long one. On Friday afternoon, at quitting time, he saw that she was the last to go and stood there waiting for her while she put on her coat and hat. "Just want to tell you you're doing great, Mrs. Davis," he said genially. "I hope you'll like us here."
"Very much, Mr. Parks. I'm so glad you hired me."
"That goes double. Have a good weekend now. How are your girls?"
She hesitated a moment, wanting to break down and tell him that she was having her hands full with them. Because now Betty was starting to sulk when, the other night, she'd laid down a stricter curfew. "Even if it is summer," she'd told Betty, "don't think you can stay out all hours. I know you've got a boyfriend, but you're going to observe eleven o'clock curfew just as you would during school times, is that understood?"
And Betty had groaned, raised her eyes to the ceiling and exclaimed, "Oh, Mother, you're such a square!" And then, to compound matters, Nancy had chipped in with an impertinent little giggle. It was really getting her down.
That Friday night, the end of the second week as Brad Parks' employee, Sheila Davis couldn't sleep. It was midnight, and she knew the girls were in bed and long since asleep, but she found herself tossing and turning. The air conditioner was on, and it wasn't the humidity outside at all that was bothering her. It was the humidity between her thighs. Because she found herself thinking about Brad Parks in a very naughty way, in a way which no new employee ought to be thinking about her boss.
She flung back the sheets and lay there thinking in the darkness. Then suddenly, shivering voluptuously, she seized the hems of her nighty and lofted it up over her tummy. She ran a hand down her belly and the insides of her thighs, startled to find that the skin was quivering and moist and twitching with a life all its own. As she did so, she grazed the thick dark-brown curls of her cuntfleece, and she uttered a gasp and suppressed it with the back of her other hand. Her eyes were very wide as she realized what was happening. She was just dying to be fucked, and she was hoping that a fellow like Brad Parks would accommodate her.
And then Sheila Davis did something she hadn't done since she was a young girl and had found out from her best girlfriend how a girl could have fun without getting into trouble, all by yourself. Closing her eyes and pretending that Brad was beside her, she put her right forefinger to her furry cunthole and began to probe for the fleshy pink-coral lips. When she touched them, she shivered and arched her bottom off the sheets, feeling the cheeks contract with all their muscular verve. Oh it was just dreadful! Here she was enjoying the best of health and still with a nice figure, and all of it was going to waste. And instead she had to worry about her two young insolent daughters who were threatening to break entirely out of bounds and maybe get themselves in trouble with some pussychasers, because there were plenty at that school.
She spread her thighs as far as she could, till she felt the tendons stretch and tighten and shiver, felt every muscle of her body toned and alive, and then with the tip of her forefinger very delicately she began to frig her pussy. She put her other hand to one of her titties, and began to squeeze and caress it, pretending it was Brad Parks doing it to her. She felt the secret love-cream deep inside her cunt begin to churn, and the tickling sensation spread from her toes to her throat. She knew she was blushing in the darkness, but she didn't care. She could feel the lips of her cunt twitch and palpitate each time her fingers brushed along the crinkly pink loveflesh, and she felt it gaping like a flower opening to the sun.
She dug her heels into the sheets, arching her bottom again as this time her finger entered between the pouting lips of her soft quivering vulva. Oh how good it was! She'd forgotten what a prick was like down her cunt, and right at this minute she would have given anything for having her hubby beside her, with all his faults and jackrabbiting, to stick his big hard dong deep inside of her. Because what she would do now, being wiser and older and alone, would be to put her finger on her tickler and help his prick along so that when he had blown his wad, she could go on rousing herself to releasing her own seething love-juices.
Her finger had hilted in her cunt, and she let it remain there while she felt the walls of her pussy straining and quivering, just as if they were dying to clamp around a sizeable ramrod. Her face turned from side to side, and her titties began to rise and fall turbulently and she could feel the nipples hardening as she continued finger frigging herself. Now with a slow regularity, she raised her finger back to the brink of her cunny, then drove it down just the way a prick would act, like a piston. "Ohhhh!" she heard herself groan aloud, and she clamped her hand over her mouth to make sure that Nancy and Betty couldn't overhear.
And then she had a brilliant idea. Putting her left forefinger to her cunt and finding her clitoris, she began to rub it slowly while with her right forefinger she emulated to the work of a male cock. And soon Sheila Davis was squirming and wriggling, whimpering and gasping, her face restlessly turning from side to side, her eyes straining through the darkness in search of her imaginary lover, and his name was Brad Parks.
And then the spasm seized her. "Ahh, oh Brad, darling, oh give it to me!" she called aloud, unable to suppress the yearning deep within her. She felt herself molten in lava now, all her cunt moist and seething, and her clitoris was hard as a man's prick and down the walls of her cunt along which her finger thrust, she could feel the moist love-cream gathering and seeping. A violent, shattering spasm took hold of her, and she rolled and twisted on the bed, digging her fingernails into one of her titties to hold back the frantic urge to scream aloud in ecstasy at this release, however artificial and imaginative.
What a pity that Brad wasn't there to take advantage of her wantonness!
What she didn't know was that in Betty's bedroom at this very moment, Nancy and Betty, naked as Eve's young daughters, were entwined, lips to lip, titties to titties, cunt to cunt, in a slow rhythmic rubbing together which was gradually rousing them both towards the Elysian heights of pussy-paradise!
CHAPTER SIX
It was the middle of Sheila's third week as an employee of Brad Parks, and her attitude towards him was singularly changing almost daily now. She had come to work wearing a white pleated skirt this particular morning, whose hems reached just the dimpled rondures of her lovely knees, and the beige-tinted nylons snugly wedding to her delectably shaped legs emphasized their verve and resilience. The dress had short sleeves, quite comfortable for this summery weather, and it had two buttons at the throat, one of which Sheila left loose to expose the smooth tawny sheen of her rounded, kissable throat. Her pageboy was quite successful in restoring the youthfulness she was aiming at, and when she examined her motives, she knew with a guilty blush that it was attractive, magnetic, virile Brad himself.
But this Wednesday afternoon, Betty had decided to flout her mother's strict regimen regarding dates and boys, and having sworn Nancy into secrecy and given her part of her allowance so that Nancy might go spend the afternoon at a nearby movie, proceeded to invite Bill up to the bungalow.
Bill Foster looked much older than his seventeen years, and his straw-colored hair was slicked down and even pomaded. He wore a pair of bellbottomed slacks, a sports shirt and sneakers, and he had a pleasant grin and twinkling blue eyes and a firm mouth and chin, and there were freckles on his cheeks and nose. He was the outdoors type, and was already being highly touted for the coming football season as a rangy end who could catch passes or take reverses and spin down the field for a touchdown. To be sure, Betty had been suddenly attracted to him because of his campus reputation as an athlete both on the field and in the bedroom-rumors had already circulated wildly among the girls at the school to the effect that Bill Foster could really make a girl cream in her panties and yet not get her into trouble.
At this point in her young life, Betty Davis was bound and determined that she was going to find out what the facts of life were in no uncertain fashion, whether her mother cared or not.
As for Bill himself, he had often seen Betty in a miniskirt and wanted to get up just a little higher between those round firm thighs of hers and see if that warm olive-tinted skin was that way all over when she was peeled down raw. He also liked her husky affectatiously insolent voice by which she tried to make every one believe she was a mature woman, because he had a feeling that he could fuck like a mink once he got her down to bedrock. So far they'd only been to a couple of movies and he'd done some fooling around, but he was quite sure that she would put out if they ever got to be alone together.
So one can well imagine his ecstatic and enthusiastic acceptance of her sly invitation to come up to her place and maybe watch TV or just fool around.
And those were the very words she had used, "Fool around."
Betty had primped before her mirror a good deal, and even swiped some of her mother's expensive Chanel Number Five perfume because she wanted to make the most devastating impression possible on her young swain. She wore her favorite miniskirt, green and pleated down to mid-thigh, and charcoal-brown pantie hose, sandals, and a peasant blouse which shoed off her bare shoulders and quite a good deal of the valley of her titties. Sheila Davis didn't know that her older daughter had such a blouse, and Betty had been saving it for just such an occasion as this.
So when she opened the door to admit her caller, Bill gasped and said in a tone of frank admiration, "Wow! Are you something, baby!"
"You think so, Bill? Come on in, the coast is clear."
"Zowie, your sure are stacked, Bets," he grinned as his blue eyes narrowingly swept her body. Just to be on the safe side, he had brought along a pack of condoms which he had picked up at a nearby drugstore, because there was only the outside chance that he might score his first real try at pussy. He really wasn't quite sure whether Betty was cherry or not, in spite of her having admitted as much in the movie that last date they had. The way she wriggled when he had his hand on her bare leg working on up to pussy had led him to believe that maybe she had gone the limit already. There were a lot of girls like that at school, who talked real prissy and asked you what sort of girl you thought they were, when all the time they were just dying to be honked.
"Let's go up to my room and listen to the radio. I've got a keen transistor, Bill," Betty calmly proposed, although inwardly her heart was beginning to beat like a triphammer.
"Sure, might as well. You got anything to drink, honey?"
Betty was somewhat taken aback by this unexpected question. She herself had never tasted liquor, her mother kept a bottle of Scotch only for medicinal purposes, and she and Nancy were not at all familiar with even wine. Getting to drink coffee was a concession her mother had made only a few months ago, though Nancy was permitted to have just half a cup, and even that was half-milk and the rest was coffee. "No, we've got Cokes and stuff like that," she said warily.
"Naw. I mean the real McCoy. Like booze, baby. You dig?"
"Uh uh, Mom doesn't keep any in the house."
"What a square!" he said disparagingly.
Even though she probably agreed with him, Betty Davis didn't really like to hear him knock her mother. "That's a fine thing to say, Bill Foster!"
"Well, ain't it the truth, Bets? Chrissake, everybody's got some licker. You mean your Mom never let you have a snifter?"
"No, and let's drop the subject. Anyhow, I certainly wouldn't want a drink now, not this hot afternoon. Maybe I made a mistake in asking you over here, Bill Foster!"
"Aw, come on, you know you don't mean that," he coaxed as he moved close to her and put an arm around her waist, then cupped her chin with his right hand and pressed his mouth to hers. After a moment, he huskily asked, "Still mad at me, huh?"
Betty Davis was blushing and her eyes were downcast, but she shook her head, "No, but please just don't talk about my Mother that way. Now come on."
She led the way to her bedroom, and Bill eagerly followed her, his eyes devouring the springy jounce of her bottom and legs as the miniskirt swirled about her, disclosing the luscious thighs sheathed in that charcoal-brown nylon which was like a second skin. He felt his prick hardening at the sight, and he had a feeling he was going to get pussy for sure.
As she reached the door of her room, he came up close behind her, put his arms round her waist and pulled her up against him, so that he could feel her bottom rubbing against his crotch. Then he slid his hands upwards till they cupped Betty's round, closely spaced bubbies, snugged by a thin white nylon bra-bandeau without shoulder-straps.
"BUI! Now you stop that, that's not nice!" Betty gasped, turning her face round to look at him, and already blushing vividly, because she could feel his hard prick pressing against the crease of her behind through the miniskirt and the pantie-hose. He was really excited, and she was secretly thrilled, but now just a little uneasy as to how far she ought to let him go. At first it had seemed like a good theoretical idea to have him over all by herself and go through step by step the procedure of fucking. But now, what she hadn't counted were her own emotions, her excitement and also a little fear at knowing herself to be absolutely alone with him and he so strong and athletic and such.
He let her go, his face red and his voice hoarse and trembling: "Okay, baby, let's hear some music. But I bet you and me could make beautiful music together anytime." Betty mentally filed that remark of his for future reference, and her heart was beating even faster as she open the door and admitted for the first time in her young life a single man to her bedroom. Then she did a double take-- now she began to realize that Mom had been after her about tidying up her room more than she did, and here she was letting what was a perfect stranger see how she lived all by herself. The bed wasn't too well made, the cover was lumpy and the sheet hadn't been tucked in properly. And there, of all things, draped over the back of the desk chair near the typewriter was a blouse she had meant to wash in the bathroom and forgot all about.
"You-you'll have to excuse the way the place looks, I didn't have any time to clean it up," she faltered.
"Who cares, doll? A bedroom's a bedroom, like I always say," he said swaggeringly. He wanted her to get the idea that he knew cunt when he was on its trail and what to do about it when he got it. But his words made Betty even more anxiously concerned with just how far to let him go. What had started as a scientific experiment on her part was now leading her down a labyrinth of new and unexpected emotional turns.
She walked over to her desk, picked up a transistor radio and turned it on to the popular rock, roll station. Bill Foster began to snap his fingers and nod his head: "Hey, chick, that's groovy!" he applauded. "Real nice tone. Let's you and me shake the body some, huh?"
"Sure, Bill." She turned and approached him, and he saw that her eyes were wide and that those gorgeous titties of hers were beginning to rise and fall faster than ever. Mentally he told himself he was halfway home already. He took her in his arms, but she wriggled away, shaking her head: "I thought you wanted to dance, Bill?"
"This is dancing, you might say," he grinned crookedly, reaching for her again. His hands brushed her titties just as he moved away, and just that brief contact of his fingers against her pouting, tingling nipples set the chemistry working in her system all over again. She felt the way she did when Nancy girlfucked with her, and she felt herself all warm and gushy way down deep inside, and she knew that it wouldn't take much to set her off. She half-wanted him to do it right away, but the rest of her mind was telling her to wait and see what sort of fellow he really was. She didn't want this first experience to be an absolute fiasco.
"Okay, doll, anything you say, after all, this is your bedroom," he quipped. Then he began to do an improvised solo dance, and Betty laughingly joined him. This was more like fun, and there wasn't any emotional stress between the two of them. But she had failed to realize what effect her luscious young body, jumping from foot and weaving her hips, would have on a perfectly young male, especially when the latter was alone with her in her own bedroom. The way her titties jiggled against her blouse, the way her bottom quaked and undulated, the way he could see her firm round thighs shake and vibrate with all their elasticity began to produce a very considerable hard-on in the fly of his corduroy trousers. He wore those because he was a senior, though at the moment because of the warm weather outside and how it was starting to get even warmer here inside, he began to wish he had worn just a pair of Bermuda shorts.
The only good thing about the cords was that they were so thick they helped hide his erection, because he was really getting a sizable one. Then the record stopped and the radio station announcer broke in, and then he came to a halt, leaning against the desk with one palm, while she fought for breath, her face was beautifully flushed and her eyes were sparkling, and her magnificent bubbies rising and falling turbulently. Those bare olive-sheened dimpled round shoulders of hers were quivering, and his eyes were fixed on them, and they crept down to the valley of those round, juicily firm solid young titties of hers, reaching the valley and then watching those luscious globes disappear under the blouse. He wanted some, pronto!
"I really go for you, doll," he muttered huskily as he moved towards her.
Betty giggled nervously, watching him approach. Then her eyes widened because she saw his hard-on, cords or no cords. In the darkness of the movie, when she could just pretend they were all by themselves and knew just how far she could go, it was one thing. But here in broad daylight, to see a boy's cock sticking out against his pants as if it wanted out the worst way, was quite something else!" It's too hot to get mushy, Bill honey," she tried to put him off.
But Bill wasn't having any. His blood pressure was already up, his red corpuscles were heated, and besides he hadn't had a piece of tail in longer than he wanted to remember. Either she was going to give or she wasn't, it was as simple as that. And if she wasn't, now was the time to find out. If there was one thing he couldn't stand it was a prickteaser.
She was backed up against the desk away, and all he'd had to do was put his hands on her waist and pull her to him and then kiss her very slowly and deliberately on the mouth. She groaned and then went limp, and then her arms wrapped round the middle of his back and she buried her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, content to let him hold her as though they were lovers. It was a sweet caress, and there wasn't anything compromising about it. That is, that is what she thought!
But the feel of her warm body, the smell of her perspiration and her girl-odor and her hair and her mother's expensive perfume and the knowledge that there wasn't anybody else in the place except the two of them, added up to an overpowering desire to fuck. "Wanna see how wild you get me, sexy?" he muttered in her ear as he slipped his right hand down to his fly, tugged the zipper down, fumbled with his jockey shorts and popped out his prick. "Take a look, better still, take a free feel. Won't cost you a thing, Betty baby."
With this, he reached for one of her hands, pulled it round and in front of him and down till her palm brushed against his stiffened hard hot young cock.
"Bill-that- that's dirty!"
"You know you don't mean that, baby. Go ahead, its all yours. Do me the way you did in the show, remember? You know you want it. I brought something along so nothing's going to happen, don't you worry, Bets baby. I'm crazy about you." His voice grew hoarser and hoarser as his young lust became almost insuperable.
Betty Davis was half tom between anxiety and feverish curiosity. He was so much stronger than she was, and so fast on the uptake, she might not be able to keep up with him. In a word, she was afraid she had bitten off more than she could chew. But the feel of that stiff hard cock against her hand, and his very sincere declaration that she drove him crazy flattered her female ego enormously, and it was the latter which won out.
"Go lock the door first," she whispered, turning her face away and pretending not to look at what she had in her hand. Because now her fingers had taken hold of his cock and were gently and wonderingly pressing it all over, as if to determine what it really was, how hard and big and long it was. And judging by what her hand told her, he was awfully hard and she didn't know how he could get that great big thing into her little slit.
"Sure, anything you want, doll," he panted. Reluctantly he pulled himself away from her, and strode to the door, his prick bobbing out in all its rigidity as he turned the key in the lock. Then he came back to her, and at once began to unbutton her blouse. "It's too warm for this, anyhow," he urged.
"Don't, Bill darling-you--you'll tear it. Wait, I'll take it off. Just let go of me. My goodness, you don't give a girl much time, do you?"
"If you want to know something, I've given you longer than I've ever given an broad in school before. That's how much I think about you all the time, Bets. You've got the niftiest shape on a broad I ever saw. Boy, are you really stacked! Get a load of them bombers!"
Because now as she had removed her blouse and draped it over the back of the chair against the desk, he could see her lovely warm olive skin, with only the frail, clinging white nylon bra, down to her midriff where the waistband and the pantie-hose began. And he could also see the soft dusky pink tidbits of her nipples straining against the bra, and it drove him wild. He put his palms on the cusps of her titties and kissed her hard on the mouth, and then flicked her tongue in between her parted lips. Betty moaned and again capitulated. Her arms went round his back, her head fell back, and she felt herself pressed with the small of her back up against the edge of the desk, helpless. But she didn't care. There was a churning inside of her, and her blood was boiling, and she felt her cunt getting itchy and warm and moist, and she knew that she was ready for prick as he had never been before in all her young life.
Her hands had gone around him again, so that left his prick free to prod right into her crotch, till she could feel the plumhead of his cock press demandingly against the soft fig of her pussy, with only that filmy layer of material between cunt and prick to keep her from becoming a woman at last.
Now his hands moved behind her, and the next thing she knew, he had unhooked the bandeau of her bra and let it drop, and her titties were naked. Instinctively, with a last affection of girlish modesty, Betty crossed her arms over her panting bubbies, but he chuckled: "Holy cow, Bets, they're gorgeous, what have you got to be ashamed of? Go ahead, hold onto me, I wanna feel 'em!"
Once again his cunning male flattery of her beauty swelled her ego to the point of allowing him more than she had really felt she would this first time. Yes, she had figured on a little French-kissing and some heavy necking and petting, but she really hadn't figured she'd be all naked for him. And now she was, except for the pantie-hose because he had very cunningly unfastened the waistband of her miniskirt the moment he got her crowded up against the desk.
"Creeiist! Are they ever gorgeous!" she heard him pant as his hands now cupped her swelling virgin titties, his thumbpads rubbing the nipples back and forth, pressing them back into the aurolae, and then his mouth covered hers again, and once again his tongue darted between her lips. She locked her hands on his neck, tilting back a little, feeling his hard prick root against her crotch, and feeling the itchy anguish of her pussy responding to him and begging her not to put up any barriers now.
Then, his hands moving round her to grip the cheeks of her bottom, Bill bent his head and mouthed one of her perky nipples, sucking and rolling it with his tongue until she felt it stiffen and throb as if it had come to life all by itself. She moaned, closing her eyes and shivering, and her hands ruffled his hair, and she felt herself being bent over backwards and the hard edge of the desk was hitting and hurting her right in her spine. But it was such sweet pain and so thrilling that she really didn't mind or card.
"Oh Bill, what are you doing to me!" she gasped faintly. "Come on, baby, let's go to bed," he urged thickly. "I'll pull down the shades--"
"No you don't. Maybe some snoopy neighbor might come around and wonder what's happening in my room in the middle of the afternoon. And wait a minute-I don't think I ought to let you go that far."
"Aw, come on, whatcha scared of, baby? I got something at the drugstore that'll take care of everything. Don't you worry none. I won't hurt you, honest I won't. Boy, you're so gorgeous, I just got to screw you, Bets! You know you want it too, baby."
The trouble was she knew that very well, even though her warning instincts told her not to giver herself all the way this first time alone with a boy, her body was now taking over. They had done enough frigging in the show and French-kissing on other occasions for her to understand how raw and passionate her emotions really were. And the game she had been playing with her sister Nancy had also taught her pussy was in dire need right now. It was a sweet torture going through her, and she could feel the thick love-cream that was dammed up right at the back of her cunt wanting to come to the surface and give down all its honey to this gorgeous hunk of man with his stiff ramrod who wanted her and was going to make her a woman.
"All right, but you've gotta stop if I say so," she feebly conceded. "Let me come up for air, Bill honey. My gosh, you almost broke my back against that darn old desk. Give me a chance, huh?"
"I'll give you everything I've got, Sweetie, that's no lie," he muttered as he let to of her and backed away, his eyes blazing, his chest heaving. The lips of his prick were puckering and contracting, sure sign that he was ready to fall upon her and make her a woman well beyond her dreams.
Betty turned her back to him, again in a last access of modesty, and began to tug down the pantie-hose sheath, wriggling and squirming her luscious bottom while he gasped with lustful admiration as the succulent, ripely rounded, firm velvety olive-sheened cheeks of her luscious ass came into breathtaking view.
And then she was naked, and his eyes couldn't get enough of her. She stood there, half-turned away, both hands clamped over the furry triangle of her cunthole. "Are-are you sure you-know what to do so I won't-you know?" she breathed.
"I sure am, baby. Oh, Jeez, let's go to bed.!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Betty hesitantly sat down on the edge of her bed, her hands still clamped over her pussy, staring at Bill with wide-eyed apprehension. Now the moment of truth was here, the moment she had been planning for and waiting for, and she felt herself all tied up in knots. There wasn't any danger about Mom's walking in on her unexpectedly not on the new job that she was, but she wondered just what she was starting. Through her mind there flashed the worry that maybe Bill would be the bragging, gossipy kind. A lot of fellows in school were, talking about the girls they'd scored with and how good this or that girl balled. She would just die if Bill ever said a word about this.
He grinned at her. "I guess you weren't putting me on when you said you were cherry, baby," he conceded. "Don't worry none, I toldja I brought some rubbers along so you won't get into trouble. Anyhow, I wouldn't do that to a sweet broad like you. So don't get nervous. Boy, have you got a shape! Those titties of yours just about drive me crazy, Bets!"
"Please-please don't talk like that--I-I'm so awfully embarrassed-"
"Now who's being the square?" he triumphantly retaliated as he sat down beside her. He was still fully dressed except for the fact that his stiff young prick was sticking right out of the fly of his cords. She looked away, her blushes deepening, as he put an arm around her waist, slyly edging his hand up towards her left titty and fondling the luscious satiny outer curve. "Don't get scared, baby. I mean, it's no big thing. Like I say, I know the score and I'm not a creep like some'a the guys who ball chicks over at school."
As he spoke, his right hand edged along her bare knees, working slowly and caressingly up her olive-sheened, beautifully rounded thigh, and Betty began to feel twitchings of excitement in the black-furred nest she was still covering with both her hands as she hunched over to diminish her nakedness. It was the first time she'd ever been bare-ass raw before any fellow, and it gave her strange contrasting sensations. She tried not to think of what Mom would do if Mom ever caught her like this, but just the same she was a tiny bit scared about how it would go the first time. Should she let him go all the way? Should she let him boff her and stick his big hard thing all the way into her little hole? Would it hurt? Would he get any fun out of it or would it just be kicks for him?
"Come on, baby, relax, get with it. Lie down and lemme feel you up and work you over till you get real hot for cock," he muttered into her ear.
Betty Davis's face was scarlet with blushes. She was still hesitant to commit herself all the way, though; "Aren't you--don't you have to-I mean, are you going to keep all your clothes on?" she quavered.
He chuckled thickly. "Yah, no reason why I can't get more cozy I s'pose. If that'll make you less hungup, okay." Rising, he tugged off his sport shirt and then unbelted his cords and pushed them down, pulling out of them and standing in his jockey shorts which he had slyly pushed down a little at the time of opening his fly so as to let his prick find full liberation. Then, shrugging, he pulled them all the way off and kicked off his sneakers and stood in his socks. "Here you are, a regular striptease, baby. Do I pass muster?"
Her eyes covertly measured him, and she shivered again. Now it seemed naughtier than ever, both of them bare-ass. She was, however, a little more reassured because at least they were on equal terms. But there was one imponderable factor: this was her first time, and she was sure he had balled lots of chicks, to listen to them carry on. "Be-be nice," she begged faintly as she quickly swung her lovely legs onto the bed and squirmed over to her side, still keeping both hands pressed against her cunthole.
But she couldn't help glancing at the naked, gangling boy who was getting into bed next to her, and she saw that he had a little hair on his chest and a lot of hair on his balls and just at the lower belly above his stiff hard prick. The plumheaded tip of his ramrod was shaped sort of like an arrow point at the very end, and she could see the lips, puckering and tightening with the spasmodic surges of gism which he had pent-up in his heavy balls. What was it going to be like, that big thing pushing into her?
"Aren't you going to-I mean-didn't you say you were going to use something?" her voice was tremulous and faint and she looked quickly away so as not to be caught staring at his prick.
"Sure. Got it right here. Wanna watch while I put it on? Come on, Bets, take a good look. I'd sure rather put my cock into your sweet little tight pussy just the way it is, it'd feel better for both of us that way. But I ain't the kind of guy that'll get a girl into trouble, not me," he bragged. He reached over to the night table and picked up the little box he had laid on there just as he had got into bed. Opening it, he extricated one of the rubber condoms, and sat up, beginning to fit it onto his prick. Her eyes opened and she couldn't help watching. Then she clamped one of her hands over her to stifle her giggles of amusement. It looked so funny, that big hard red ugly thing, skinning it down with a white sheath, and he was grimacing so as he yanked it down all the way to make sure it wouldn't have a wrinkle.
But he caught her looking and explained, "That holds back the juice, baby, the kind of juice that makes babies, see? That way, I can fuck you all I want and nothin's gonna happen. Now come on, give a nice big sweet kiss. Boy, you've got the sweetest shape I ever saw on any girl peeled down, and that's a fact!"
"You-you think so, Bill?" That age-old curiosity of the female, coupled with her vanity made Betty Davis yearn to have just such reassurance. At the same time, it reminded her that Bill wasn't coming to her pure, either, not the way she would be to him. She just wondered how many girls he had fucked. "Have you seen--I mean, lots of girls this way?" He burst into a raucous laugh. "You dames are all alike," he complained. "You think you own a guy just because you go to bed with him. Sure I've fucked lots of broads, what boy hasn't? I'd say maybe ten, fifteen-I never really did keep count. But I'll tell you one thing, Bets honey, they all said they liked it, and you're gonna do the same thing. Now c'mere with that kiss!"
He turned to her then, caught her by the shoulders and put his mouth on hers. She felt his naked chest against her titties, and she shuddered violently. It was the first time she had ever had a naked boy press against her, and the sensation was somewhat electrifying. And since she used both hands in a kind of protective gesture to fend him off, not knowing exactly how he was going to begin and not prepared at all for theoretical knowledge as to what would happen, it so happened that as he pulled her to lie on her side facing him on his, his prick rubbed against the furry snatch of her luscious virgin cunthole.
At the same time, his right hand glided over her bottom, and began to squeeze and pat and stroke it, while he pressed himself forcibly against her maiden mount.
The feel of a boy's hand on her naked behind sent further thrilling sensations through Betty's young nervous system. Her hands were at his chest, pushing him away, but his tongue was suddenly going between her lips and meeting hers, and more erotic electricity flowed between them, gradually weakening her modest reserve. She had to admit to herself she liked the feel of his hand on her ass--there, she had gone and used that naughty word! And now he was kissing her throat and then the valley between her bubbies, and suddenly his lips had fixed on one of her perky pink nipplebuds and had begun to suck it ardently.
"Ooooh!" she squealed, "that feels so nice, Bill honey! But please go slow, you're the first guy-oh dam, I didn't mean to let that slip out--but it's true. I never did this before with anybody, not ever--so please be nice, huh?"
"Jeez, baby, will I ever!" he breathed, looking up at her with glittering eyes and his face flushed with passion. "I'm sure glad you waited till it was me for your first fuck. It's gonna be wonderful, you watch. Now just don't fight it, see? Don't start tightening up, nothing's gonna happen, didn't I tell ya?"
She nodded mutely, her eyes searching his with an anxiety that merged with her expectant and quivering attunement. She could feel the pulse beating in her throat, faster than she had ever known it to beat before. And between her legs, there was a sudden sticky feeling of pussyjuice, meaning that her pussy wanted it just as bad as his cock wanted to get it into her. Was this what fucking was?
Her hands sought his cheeks, cupping them, and she closed her eyes and quivered as his lips went back to sucking her nipple. Now it was hard and stiff, and she had new sensations there to teach her what the meaning of a fuck was. His prick kept rubbing back and forth against her snatch, and she no longer tried to back away or squirm to evade it. How warm his skin was, and his prick too!
Bill kept rubbing his hand over her velvety naked bottom, reveling in the warm quivering feel of her naked flesh. He wasn't lying when he had told her that she was the tastiest of all girls he had ever banged, because she had absolutely perfect skin and had a shape that even women of twenty and twenty-five would have envied. His hand stole down her thigh now, moving round to the inside which she tightened up. No boy had ever come so close to her privates-of course, in the movie, it didn't count, because it was under cover of darkness. But here they were in broad daylight, bare-ass-naked, getting ready to fuck. Betty Davis's mind was filled with tumultuous divergence of desires and fears. But because he was gentle at the outset, because his caresses were flattering, as well as his words, her expectancy outweighed her fear.
Now suddenly his forefinger delicately prodded her cunt, and Betty gasped and at once rushed a hand back down there to protect the invaded citadel of her virgin cherry. Her eyes were big and round, questioning and anxious, as they stared into his flushed face.
"Relax, baby, I'm gonna be real easy withcha," he promised in a husky voice that trembled with his own lustful impatience. If she were one of his steadies, he'd have boffed her long ago, but he realized that this was specially prize cuntmeat and therefore worthy of the extra effort. He didn't intend to stop with just a one-afternoon stand, not with this sweet black-haired piece of cherry!
Though her hand was pressing hers away, he managed to get his forefinger between the pouting pink lips of her cunt, and to tickle them slowly. Betty gasped and squirmed and moaned, because this she was used to; her own nocturnal self-administered friggings, together with her secret games with her younger sister Nancy had conditioned her to such tactile stimulus. Her cunt began to itch and tingle and to grow moist, and he felt that at once and knew it to be a good sign.
"See? Whatcha worried about, honey? Isn't that doing it good to you? Now put your arms around me and give me a nice big kiss and use your tongue, too," he instructed.
With a gasp, Betty obeyed, linking her lovely olive-sheened arms around his neck and pressing her mouth passionately against his, then driving her tongue, which sent another galvanizing current of passion through her titties now, squeezing and fondling it, rubbing his palm against the hardening nipple, while his right forefinger traced the sweet fig-like shape of her pouting young cunthole, tickling the rims and making her thighs jerk and contract with spasmodic tensions.
"Mmmmmm, oh it's so nice, Bill!" she panted, shivering her arms tighter around him and pressing herself fiercely against him.
"Didn't I tell ya?" he chuckled hoarsely. And thus emboldened, his forefinger moved between the Ups of her soft vulva to find the nodule of her clitoris and to press and rub and tickle it. Frantic with the myriad new sensations crowding into her being, the naked raven-haired teenager flung her left leg over his, arching himself to him with a convulsive, jerking cohesion. The friction of her clitoris was absolutely maddening, and she retaliated by kissing him so far that she took his breath away, and by digging her tongue wildly in between his lips to reach the roof of his mouth.
As he kept rubbing her tickler, her bare leg frantically took that same rhythm to rub against his hip, because by now she was a bundle of nervous sensations which knew no bounds. Almost whimpering with the frantic excitement welling up inside of her, Betty clenched his sides with her slim soft fingers, and her titties flattened their hardened darts against his panting chest. He could feel the sweet moisture of her cunnycream lubricating the passageway, that road he must take to conquer her virgin cherry. All this while, the white sheath, skin-tight, over his stiffened young cock, waved like a semaphore down that roadway to announce the imminent consummation.
"You getting hot, baby?" he panted, because he knew he was, and this unusual holding-off on his part was quite rare in his own usual sexual scores. It was only because he realized that Betty was choice, really prime cuke-meat, which had led him to approach her with much more finesse than he was usually accustomed.
"Oh yes! Oh Billy, honey, whatever you're doing to me, it's just wonderful, please don't stop!" Thus black-haired Betty Davis flung aside the last waning vestiges of maternal stricture; but the throbbing, tingling, titillating spasms which his finger-frigging of her clitoris were bringing about were completely annihilating to all moral values. And she was conscious of that big heavy hard whit-skinned thing so stiff between his legs and jabbing at her inner thighs and lower abdomen all this while.
Through her mind, there suddenly leaped the notion that Nancy would probably bedevil her to pieces, trying to find out what was going on right now. Well, it might not be a good idea to tell Nancy everything. Nancy had a big blabbermouth, and she might just let it slip out in front of Mom unexpectedly some day, and then there would really be problems. She didn't think it would mean a spanking, though, because Mom had never laid a finger on her, nor had Dad. Mom was too much of a square, anyhow, to try a thing like that with her, old as she was, or even with Nancy. Of course, there was Muriel Dickenson, that plump blonde in her History class, who blushingly confided that her Daddy sometimes took his belt to her bare bottom when she was especially naughty. The funny thing about that was, Betty now reflected, even as she arched and squirmed and wriggled, maddened by Bill's fingering her tickler, that Muriel seemed to like the experience. Oh my goodness, just think of being bare-ass over a man's lap and getting your tail whacked with his belt for being a naughty girl, so he could see pussy and everything!
But even this sudden impulsive thought vanished as Bill now found himself unable to hold back any longer. His balls were aching from the load imposed upon them, and all this restraint had only served to madden him. "Come on, baby," he gasped, "I gotta! You can kiss you cherry good-bye, Bets, sweetie!"
And with this, rolling her onto her back, he edged into her saddle, prying apart her pussylips with right thumb and forefinger while he quickly and adroitly placed his condom-sheathed prick inside the yawning pink gape of that love-lobby of hers, her virgin vulva.
"Ohhh! Oh my! How big it is!" she naively gasped, her eyes very wide as she studied his scowling, tense face looming over her. She put her hands towards his prick, perhaps with a subconscious impulse of, at this very final moment, of averting the disaster which would turn her from girl into knowledgeable woman.
"Come on, baby, lock those sweet arms and legs around me, hold on tight and I'll give you a real ride," he boasted.
Both his hands now clutched her panting titties, fondling and squeezing them, and Betty was aghast at the liberty she was allowing him to take. But there was a secret thrill to it just the same. It was as if they were married and on their honeymoon, bare-ass naked like this in the middle of the day, screwing on her own bed. She started to giggle, irrepressibly.
"What the hell's so funny?" he looked aggrieved. "Don't do that, baby, I'll lose my hard-on-anyhow, what's there to laugh about?"
"I-I was just thinking, how funny it is to do it like this in the afternoon and here in my own room just like we were married," she confessed, then blushed furiously and turned away her lovely face.
"Yeah," he said, mollified, "that is a kick, isn't it? You sure there ain't no trouble with your Mom or that nosey sister of yours?"
"Nancy? You don't think I'm going to tell her about this, do you, Bill--?"
"It wouldn't be smart. She could blab. I know what kid sisters are like. I got one of my own, she's eleven, and I gotta pay her off every time I wanna go out on a date, otherwise she says she'll blab. But hell, what are we talking for? Let's fuck!"
This coarse rejoinder made her gasp, but again it was with a guilty delight to know that he was so hot for her. She could feel his heavy prick banging up against the door of her cherry, and the muscles of her thighs tightened to prepare herself for the ordeal of loss of maidenhead. Desperately, she clung to him with her arms, spreading her legs as far as she could to ease the access. He was now weighted down upon her, locked into her saddle, and it felt so marvelous to have her titties squeezed like that with his big strong hands, the hands that would catch a football pass and go for a touchdown against their deadly rival Parker High.
He shoved a little more tentatively, and Betty gasped and raised her head: "Oh honey, that-that does hurt a little!" she confessed.
"I know. That's your cherry, baby. We can't fuck till it's gone. I gotta break it, see? It'll take just a minute, and it won't hurt after that. Then you'll go off like you were in seventh heaven, believe me!" he panted.
She moaned and squirmed, trying to evade it, for it sounded menacing. But by now Bill could do nothing more than carry out Nature's age-old instinct. Drawing himself back, he lunged with all his strength, and Betty began to pound at his shoulders and to dig her heels against the bed, for she felt the savage twinge of laceration as he tore through her cherry and hilted himself to the balls inside her tight young cunt.
"Oh please-take it out, it hurts me, oh I can't stand it, oh Bill, you're killing me, oh don't, I don't want to any more-" she whimpered.
"Aw, honey, it'll be over in a second, don't worry about it, there, now let me go on and it'll be nice for you, you'll see," he babbled, half-scared that she might resist him at this moment when his balls were so full of spunk he would die unless he got rid of the load.
Holding tight, his hands reaching under her bottom to squeeze her cheeks, he began to drive himself back and forth, as he felt the savage urge rise within him, all along the urethral shaft the bubbling tides of spunk came urgently in need of ejaculation.
But fortunately for him, Betty, despite her first anguish, began to taste the delirious joy of friction. Her eyes, glassy and full of tears, widened as she discovered that after this first pain, there was an incredible bliss, a kind of combination of torment and delight, for which nothing, not even imagination, had previously prepared her.
Through some divine instinct amazing in one so young, Bill had put his right forefinger back to her tickler, and begun to rub it wildly back and forth. And this thrust drew Betty towards the cycly of fulfillment, and now, flinging her legs around his bottom, she held on for dear life and fucked.
They both went off in a sobbing climax, rolling back and forth as if attacking each other. And at last Betty wanly gasped, "Oh my Lordie, that was just heaven- oh gosh, look what you did to the sheets! I'll have to get rid of those before Mom comes! You-you better go now, honey, oh my, it was wonderful!"
"Sure," he panted, lax with pleasure. "But we'll do it again. I know how you feel, kid. But don't worry. See? The safe's still on, so the juice won't hit your cunny and give you a baby. You're a doll, Bets. Boy have you got a hot tight cunt!"
Scrambling out of bed, he hurried to the bathroom, washed and then quickly dressed and kissed her. And he left her thus to remove the damning evidence of the blood-stained sheet, and it happened to be one of Mom's best. But that was only a minor problem. Betty smiled at herself in the mirror. Now she was a woman at last.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Just about the time Betty was finding out what it was like to be a full-grown woman and use her tender tight young cunt to the fitting of an excited young male's prick, Brad Parks was dictating to Betty's luscious dark-brownhaired mother Sheila. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off her all afternoon, because the clinging pleated skirt and the tight blouse emphasized all her ripe and mouthwatering charms and reminded him all too cruelly of the fact that since Angela Vincent had gone off to Rome to get married and raise a big family for her Romero, he hadn't had a pussy. Some men, he'd heard, were quiescent in the summer. In other words, when the weather was hot, they weren't, and vice versa.
Well, maybe it was true that in colder weather, when he liked to eat good thick steaks and drink a bottle of fine red Burgundy, he did seem to have more zip and zing, but right now it was all he could do to keep from letting Sheila notice that he had quite a sizeable hard-on. He would have given his vacation for a chance to put his hands on those widely spaced firm round titties of hers, and to find out whether that soft tawny skin was satiny-smooth all over, around the insides of her rounded, lovely thighs, and the velvety cheeks of her behind. He didn't exactly know how to begin or how she would receive any overture in the first place. Of course there was the old motto, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." But he stood to lose a lot if he didn't gain anything; she could flare up, slap his face and walk out, then he'd have to hire another girl, and by now she was already proving well-nigh indispensable.
He glanced at his wristwatch and saw that it was just about time to take a cab to the airport and collect his daughter Margaret. She was coming back from her Eastern finishing school, and he wasn't especially looking forward to becoming a father in name only. He knew exactly what was going to happen. She would be pouty, uppity, snappishly inclined towards everything she saw at Chicago, and another one of her faults that irked him to hell and gone was her habit of commenting aloud on what she didn't like when they were walking down the street. Two years ago, for example, she had seen a flowered hat on a fat old dowager shopping at the window of Saks Fifth Avenue, and she had made such a scathing remark about the hat that the dowager had turned and gasped, "Well I never!" and her face had turned as scarlet as a hen's wattles. He himself had turned red in the face and apologized, and he had glared at Margaret and had the irresistible urge to slap her face-but of course he hadn't. Maybe that was the trouble from the very beginning. Maybe after that carefree, irresponsible mother of hers had just taken off and had her own fun and not cared what happened to Margaret, he ought to have stepped in and put his foot down and said, "This is the way it's going to be."
But of course it was much too late now. Margaret was eighteen, even at marriable age. He pitied the boy who would get her, because he would have to do a hell of a lot of remarking in his own image and Margaret would fight him every step of the way. But that was her problem, not his.
"Sheila, I think that'll be all for today. I've got to get my daughter at O'Hare."
"Oh that's right, you told me about her." Sheila Davis looked up with a fond smile. It was all she could do to keep from showing her impatience with him. She had taken special pains every morning before she came to work, to look her most delectable. She even used perfume, something she had never done before, not even for her own hubby. And still he hadn't made a pass or even invited her out to lunch or anything that could be construed as a date.
"Tell you what," he decided as he rose from the desk. "I don't feel like working any more today, and there's no reason for you to stick around. That letter doesn't have to go out until tomorrow, anyhow. Why don't you let me give you a lift home and you can at least have a couple of extra hours with your kids?"
"That's awfully thoughtful of you, Brad. I mean--Mr. Parks-"
"No, no, your first instinct is always the right one. I think I like your calling me Brad, Sheila. I don't mind telling you, you've certainly worked out in this job and I'm awfully glad I got that recommendation from your former boss. I owe him a good lunch some day. You're everything the doctor ordered. Fact is, I'm thinking about giving you a raise next week."
"Oh, that's awfully generous of you, Brad! But I've still so much to learn-"
"Skip it. You're doing just great. Now get your things, and we'll be off."
And so it was that Brad Parks ushered a smiling Sheila Davis into a cab, had her give the driver her address first, and thus Betty's belief that her mother wouldn't be back until nearly six in the evening and thus allow her plenty of time to recover from her first fuck was to be rudely dashed!
Bill Foster had dressed and been ready to go when Betty, having hastily hidden the blood-stained sheet which proved that she had had her cherry until this memorable hour, felt a sudden surge of gratitude and possibly even extra lust for her boyfriend: "You don't have to go right this minute, honey. My gosh, the way you run off, you'd think you just came over here to-well, to make me, and then to get out as fast as you could. Don't you care for me a little, after all I've been to you?" She had been reading the wrong kind of books, because that line had gone out about two generations ago. Nevertheless, for Betty it was really a momentous occasion, because a girl doesn't lose her cherry every day. She immediately, like so many other girls, felt possessive, felt that she owned Bill Foster and that he owed her something for the estimable privilege of putting his prick in her soft virgin cunt.
"I don't know, Bets," he said doubtfully, "might not be such a hot idea for me to fool around any more, just in case your kid sister comes back--"
"I told you I bribed her to go to a movie and she won't snitch anyhow. And besides, Mom doesn't get back until nearly six from the office."
"Well, okay, I guess maybe I'll have another Coke. Let's go down to the frig and see what we can find."
All would have been well if Betty hadn't insisted on his staying. Had he left when he originally intended to, Bill Foster wouldn't have compromised Betty Davis irretrievably, and so in a way started a chain of circumstances which was to lead to the happy liberation of Brad Parks's long-denied prick!
The two teenagers enjoyed Cokes and some crackers with peanut butter and grapes, and then Bill, remembering how gorgeous Betty had looked when bare-ass-naked, went over to her chair, bent down, squeezed her titties, and gave her a good hot French kiss. She moaned and squirmed in her chair, reaching up to lock her arms around his neck to pull him down to her, and it was a soul-kiss that seemed to last endlessly.
"Hey now," he muttered hoarsely, "I'd better not start that all over again, or I'll never get out of here. You're a real hot chick, Bets! When can we get together again like this?"
"I don't know, honey. Gosh, I wish we were married-"
"Oh-oh!" he backed away, "Don't start talking like that, we're just a couple of kids. Hell, it'll be four years before I get out of college and get me a job, and my old man sure wouldn't let me get married now, that's for sure. But like I said, I know how to keep a girl out of trouble, so whenever you get the urge, you just give me a jingle or see me at school, and we'll work something out."
"Well, I like that!" she stamped her foot. "All you want from me is--you know what. Well, Bill Foster, if you think you can just whistle to me and have me pick up my clothes and screw for you, you've got another thing coming. I'm not that kind of a girl!" "Don't give me that, chick! You liked having the rocks put to you and you know it," he said crudely. "I bet you're just dying to have another balling right now. I bet when I go, you go upstairs to your room and lock yourself in, put your finger in your little slit and rub like hell and pretend it's my cock going in again."
"You can just get out of here for that! I don't ever want to talk to you again, you filthy thing!" Her face was scarlet.
"Suit yourself, chick. There's lots more fish in the sea where you came from," he said blithely, and then, to compound insult with injury, reached round her and goosed her. Betty squealed and jumped, then slapped his face. He slapped her back, chuckled ironically, and slammed the door of the bungalow on his way out.
As luck would have it, the cab with Brad Parks and Sheila Davis was drawing up to the curb just about the time Bill Foster was striding down the sidewalk on his way back home. In one way, fortunately for Betty, Sheila didn't make out his face and couldn't identify him, but she could have sworn that he had just come out of the bungalow.
"Thanks so much for dropping me off, Brad. And I hope your daughter's just fine. I'd like to meet her some day."
"You will, Sheila. Relax now, and I'll see you at the office. Okay, driver, O'Hare please!"
The cab shot away, and Sheila stared after it with a fond smile. Then she sighed mournfully, wishing that he were taking her out to O'Hare to board a jetliner and maybe off to some romantic place like Hawaii or Jamaica for a honeymoon. Yes, she knew now, she wanted to be married again. She missed having a man in bed with her. But he would have to be a nice guy, someone exactly like Brad Parks. A man who could make her toe the line and yet be honest and fair and understanding. But most of all, a man who could give her passionate nature what it really needed, what her ex-hubby had never been able to do. A man who would enjoy sex and make her enjoy it, so they would share together. Not something that was perfunctory and ritualistic and scheduled as inevitably as death and taxes.
With these thoughts seething in her mind, she unlocked the front door and went in. She called out, "Nancy? Betty?"
Betty, who was in the kitchen, tidying up after her row with Bill, uttered a gasp, "Oh gosh, it can't be Mom!" But it was. "I-I'm in the kitchen, Mom!" she quavered.
Sheila Davis approached and saw that her daughter's face was red and that there were tears glistening in her eyes. "What's the matter, honey? What happened?"
"N-nothing, not really, Mom. How come you're home so early?"
"Oh, Mr. Parks was going to the airport to pick up his daughter Margaret. He was nice enough to give me the rest of the afternoon off. Where's Nancy?"
"At... at a movie, I think, Mom. Anyhow, she said there was something she wanted to see."
"Oh. Well, on such a beautiful sunny day as this, I'm surprise; she'd waste her time at the show. That's for nighttime. Well, what have you been doing?"
"I-I was just having a little snack. I guess I got hungry."
"Your face is red and you've been crying. Now what is it? And by the way, didn't I see a boy coming out of the bungalow and going down the street just as we drove up?"
"I-I don't know--oh please, don't bother me, Mom, I just feel awful."
"I see," Sheila Davis said grimly. "Was it by any chance that boy I've forbidden you to see, that--what's his name, anyhow--Bill Foster?"
"Oh Mom, why are you always so suspicious?" Betty burst out.
"Don't you raise your voice to me and use a tone like that, young lady! I'm getting just a little fed up with you and Nancy, if you want to know the truth. One of these days, I might do something drastic, like spanking you."
"You said that once before, and it's silly. I'm too old to be spanked. I'm a woman." Secretly, Betty felt this strongly, and she had a good reason to: she had just forfeited her cherry and therefore, in her own opinion, she was as full grown and mature as her own mother.
"I see," Sheila Davis said coldly. "So it was Bill Foster, wasn't it? So you allowed him to come over all by himself to our home, and you made sure that Nancy would be away so the two of you could-God knows what! Just how far did you go, young lady?"
"Mom!" Betty's horrified gasp and her widened eyes betrayed not only shame at this accusation but guilty fear that her mother had unerringly put her finger on the truth.
"Don't you 'Mom' me, young lady. I want a direct answer, yes or no. Did you let him pet you and do things to you? Answer me! If you don't, so help me, I-I'll slap you!" Sheila threatened, exasperated beyond control. She had never felt so much like taking her older daughter across her lap and giving Betty what-for on her voluptuous young ass.
"I--we-we did do some necking, but that's all it was, Mom, honest that's all!" Betty babbled. Hurriedly, she wracked her mind to remember what she had done with the bloodied sheet, then was satisfied she had hidden it away until she could sneak it out of the house and get it laundered or buy a new one if it wouldn't come out in the laundromat.
"So, behind my back, against all my orders, you not only see that detestable boy who has such a terrible reputation at school with all those girls, those cheap girls, Betty, which you rank yourself with at once by even associating with him, but you actually flout my orders about dating and what you're to do with a boy by letting him take liberties with you! This is just about the last straw, young lady. I'm going to have to think very seriously about what I'm going to do with you. Yes, and with Nancy too. I've a good mind to send you both off to a summer camp where they've got counselors who will straighten you out. There's one in Michigan I've read about, where it's almost like a reformatory. Maybe that's where you both belong."
"Oh Mother, no, no, you wouldn't do that. Please don't! I-I'm awfully sorry--I promise--I won't ever see him again!" And at that moment, Betty sincerely felt that she could keep that promise, especially after what that awful Bill Foster had just said to her about her wanting him only because her cunny was hot and needed prick.
'I'll make my own decision. And now, just for that, you can go to your room and I'll have your supper sent in to you by your sister. The very idea, telling her to go to a movie--was she in on this too? Did she know about it?"
Betty hung her raven head and nodded guiltily.
"All right, then. Nancy is just as bad as you are. She's too giddy for her own good, even if she is only fourteen. Yes, I'm going to think about that Michigan camp. And by the end of the week, I'll let you both know. Now go to your room and don't let me see you again, young lady."
And thus the rift between luscious Sheila Davis, divorcee who was suffering the empty-bed blues these days and nights, and her two delicious daughters--one of whom had just lost her cherry--was begun in a way that would involve Brad Parks and his own beautiful daughter Margaret.
CHAPTER NINE
The American Airlines jetliner was on schedule, but had to circle the landing strip because of heavy air traffic, so Brad Parks waited by the unloading rack and smoked a cigarette and thought about his new employee and how he would like to get into her pants. There ought to be some way to do it, without alienating her from the job. Of course there would be a real bonus if a guy could have a secretary by day and prick-satisfier at night. There would be the real combination, without having to marry a girl and worry about coddling her every mood!
He crushed out the cigarette and glanced at his wristwatch. Well, the moment was going to come, and it wouldn't matter whether it was put off a few minutes or not. He was going to be saddled with Margaret. She was really a gorgeous piece, though she didn't really take after her mother. He'd almost forgotten what she looked like, and he was wondering just what style her hair would be in this time. She always wrote him that she wasn't satisfied with this or that and was trying this diet or that diet, or redoing her hair this way or that. Her grades were good enough, and her personal counselor at the finishing school had written him that she was a most sensitive and imaginative young woman, but needed more emotional maturity. Didn't we all, he thought bitterly as he lit still another cigarette. Hell, he was smoking too much these days--and he knew why. He was cunt-hungry, and he was going to have to do something about it pretty soon. But with Margaret around until he could get her through the vacation and then back to her school in the fall, he would have to be circumspect as hell, damn it anyway. Margaret had a certain prudish snobbery to her. She hadn't really approved of his leaving her mother and they had had a few words on the subject already. He hoped she wouldn't bring that up again, for God's sake!
* * *
Margaret Parks made a face and squirmed a little uneasily, because her seat belt was too tight. It was a bore, circling the damn airfield when they ought to have been down ten minutes ago. In a way, she was sorry to leave. It was just getting beautiful out easy, and Della Loomis and she had been hitting it off so wonderfully. And now Della was going to Europe and wouldn't be back at the school at all anymore, doggone it!
Margaret Parks was quite tall, five feet seven-and-a-half inches in height, but it was beautifully distributed and she was whistle-bait and prick-meat at first glance. But she was also pussy-meat, and that was what Della Loomis had shown her just last month. The spectacularly big-tittied nineteen-year-old New York City brownette, whose father was a stock-broker and whose mother had been a debutante in her day, had become her roommate when Marcella Prentice, that bespectacled, mousy-haired greasy grind, had suddenly up and surprised everybody by getting married to a rough and tumble professional football player for the Buffalo Bears. So the Dean of Women had moved Della into Margaret's room, and there had been a certain electricity between the two of them. Della was olive-skinned, wore her hair in a Sassoon bob, used perfume and lipstick very daringly, and wore peasant-type off-the-shoulder blouses which let you see almost the valley of her big, round jutting bubbies with their dark turgid nipples and their wide silver-dollar-sized aureolae. She had a husky voice, a real bedroom voice, and she usually drawled, and she used slang and profanity the like of which Margaret hadn't ever heard before. And still they'd hit it off, opposites though they were in a way.
Della was only about five feet five, and she was a switch-hitter, as she had casually informed Margaret the very first night they had started undressing. Margaret had been a little shy about taking off all her clothes, and had stood there in bra and panties while Della calmly unhooked her bra and then tugged down her panties, and stood there, critically gazing at herself in the mirror. "Do you think I'm too hairy, honey?" she nonchalantly asked, pointing to her pussy. And she was quite hairy too. Margaret had blushed and gasped, "Oh, I-I don't think so, I really don't notice such things."
Margaret giggled now, remembering that inane conversation. She had really been a little embarrassed, but it had been exactly the right thing to say, so far as her own pussy was concerned. Because Della had come over with a twinkle in her dark brown eyes, put her hands on Margaret's hips and murmured, "Baby, it's high time you noticed pussies. I'll bet you've even forgotten you've got one. Let's take a look at it, shall we?" And then before Margaret could even gasp or blush anymore than she was already blushing, Della had whisked down her panties, undone her bra, and murmured, "My oh my, you're really stacked, baby. Some boy is going to have an ache in his balls when you peel down like this and show him what you've got to offer."
And then, to Margaret's consternation, Della had sunk down on her bare knees, put her hands against Margaret's bottom, and flicked her tongue against Margaret's pussy. "Ohh--what-oh don't do that, oh please don't-Della, for God's sake, what are you doing to me?" she panted.
And she tried to push Della away, but Della wasn't having any. Or rather, Della was having hair-pie for dessert and seconds to boot. Because Della had sunk her fingers into Margaret's bottom and maintained her there and hissed, "Shut up and just relax and enjoy it, you sweet randy little bitch," and then she had gone to work gamming as Margaret had never known one girl to do to another. That nimble pink warm tongue had slid this way and that, exploring every crevice of Margaret's virgin cunthole, until Margaret had fairly reeled and swayed, the world turning black and all her senses churning inside of her. And then she had finally moaned, "Oh for heaven's sake, Della, please, let me get over to the bed before I faint and collapse-oh Lord, what you're doing to me!"
So they had adjourned to the bed, and no sooner had Margaret stumbled over to it, but Della had pushed her onto her back, nimbly mounted atop her, and in reverse, putting her head back between Margaret's thighs, whispered, "Now you could do me the same way, honey, because one good turn deserves another, I always say."
Margaret hadn't wanted to. The idea of licking or sucking another girl's cunt had never entered her mind, but there was something seductive about that pink gap framed by dark-brown pussycurls. And Della's perfume had enchanted her. And besides, Della's tongue was finding her clitoris and rolling it to and fro, and she began to heave and buck her bottom and wriggle and squirm and groan, until finally in sheer desperation because she had to do something, she had seized Della's bottom as fiercely as Della was holding hers, and had pressed her tongue tentatively into that inviting pink cleft.
How Della had wriggled, and how Della had moaningly told her where to put her tongue, "Touch my button-that's the way, darling--oh that's lovey, that is! Yummy, you're real good at it, for a virgin, sweetheart! I can't believe you're still cherry-let's see with my finger--my gosh if you aren't--oh, are we going to have fun till school's out!"
And they certainly had had.
Margaret was wondering now, as she stared dully down at the airstrip which the American Airlines was still circling, waiting for radio orders of clearance, just what Dad would think if he knew that she was a little smarter than when he had last seen her. Not about boys, because fortunately the school didn't have any. And she really didn't care for them, because they were drips, most of them, with a lot of money and big mouths and much too young to know anything about a girl or her feelings, and interested in only one thing, poking that great big thing of theirs into a girl's hairy slit and then forgetting all about it.
She closed her eyes again, remembering their very last night, only last night. She could have caught the evening plane and got to O'Hare around seven this morning, but Della had begged her to have just one last night for old time's sake, and she'd agreed, and so she'd wired her father not to meet her until late this afternoon.
Della had taken her out to Caniglia's, a very snazzy Italian restaurant about a mile away from the school. There had been a booth with candlelight, wonderful red wine in a flask with a straw container around it to make it more romantic-looking, ravioli, and then a steak cooked with mushrooms and just a touch of garlic, a marvelous salad, and finally zabliogne, an Italian wine custard over strawberries. And then they had had a brandy each, very daringly for Margaret, who hadn't ever had hard liquor before. But then of course, the night had been a special one, a very special one.
Then they had gone back to their room, walking hand in hand, staring at each other long and hungrily, and Margaret had blushed, and Della had giggled and whispered. "Say, it looks as if we're going steady, baby. I'm going to miss you. Of course, I'll probably marry Eric Horton, he's the fellow that my Pater's got all picked out for me. A real snob, but rich as Croesus, and he happens to own a villa on the Riviera. It's nice to be rich, and I've got my own money from Pater too, so we'll have a lot of fun. And if Eric and I don't hit it off in bed, well, France had Italy have lots of swingers, both kinds. But let's not talk about that, let's just think about how we're going to say goodbye tonight, baby."
It had been just beautiful. They'd gone back to their room and then when the door had been closed and locked, Della had put her hands on Margaret's shoulders had kissed her tenderly on the mouth and said, "You're my lover, my sweetheart, my little wife. And let's pretend we're crowding a whole honeymoon into one little night, baby. Take off your clothes and get all naked, I'm going to punish you for having to leave me. And then I'm going to kiss it and make it well, you'll see.
Margaret had tremblingly undressed, wanting to hurry, finding her fingers all thumbs as Della's eyes glistened lovingly, watching her get naked. And then Della had taken her by the elbow like a little girl who was naughty, led her over to the bed, sat down on it, pulled Margaret across her lap, and lectured her as if she were a naughty baby who deserved a good sound spanking on her bare bummy. And then she had begun to spank Margaret, gently at first, her palm caressingly lingering after each little slap, till Margaret had begun to rub and grind her pussy over Della's stockinged thighs. Then the slaps had grown harder, till tears sprang to Margaret's eyes, and she had finally put her hands back and pleaded, "No more, just love me, Della, please! It hurts!"
But Della had lectured her, "Take your hands away, you naughty girl, for that you get extras. You clasp them at the back of your neck and you just grin and bear it, baby."
But when she had done this, Della had slyly slipped her left hand between their bodies, and the next thing Margaret knew, Della's forefinger was busy tickling her pussy and going against her clitoris and rubbing it gently while the slaps fell vigorously and noisily. And finally, at the very end, Margaret had been kicking up her bare legs, and weaving her hips around like mad and begging Della to finish her off so she could cream all her juice.
After the spanking, Margaret had been rolled over onto her back, and told to put a pillow under her bare bummy, while Della undressed. Then Della had flung herself down atop Margaret, and they had pussy rubbed until they had both gone off deliriously, their tongues in each other's mouth, their arms enfolding each other in a long and lingering farewell.
Della had wanted to use a dildo on her, and had actually shown her the rubber artifice of the male prick. But Margaret had backed down at the last minute. She was still a little bit scared about losing her cherry. But Della had told her, "All right, if you won't play, you've got to pay a forfeit. You've got to wear this and fuck me. I told you I was a switch-hitter."
To her embarrassed consternation, Margaret had had to strap on the dildo, and get over Della as if she were a man, and Della had laughingly guided the artificial prick into her soft cunt, and finally pulled Margaret down by the hips to impale her, wrapping her legs around Margaret and wriggling and squealing like one possessed.
It had been memorable. And now she would never see Della again, and she was going to be stuck with Dad all summer and God alone knows what she was going to do with herself. Because now she was feeling so randy, just the thought of the night coming and no Della around was making her wonder if she was going to have to go back to using her finger and playing with herself the way she had done years ago before she had known that there was such a thing as girl-fucking or a sweet friend like Della.
Margaret closed her eyes and sighed. The stewardess, passing by, looked down at the lovely eighteen-year-old daughter of Brad Parks and shook her head and smiled to herself. She wondered what this gorgeous chick was worried about or fretting about. There was certainly going to be a handsome young man waiting for a dish like that. As for herself, maybe this evening her favorite mechanic would come around and take her to dinner in the Loop and then maybe they'd stay the night in some hotel and fuck like minks. Ed had promised to marry her, so she wasn't going to give him too much pussy until he came across with the ring, just enough to get him wild to have it for life...
Looking at Margaret Parks, one would see a tall voluptuously formed girl, with a sensitive oval face, closely spaced large dark-blue eyes, an aristocratic up-tilted little nose, and a small selfish mouth, with haughty and riper upper lip. Margaret's hair was light-brown, and she wore it in an upsweep, combed away from the back of the neck and up to form a kind of cluster, something like a Psyche knot. It left her nape bare, and it made her look more elegant and sophisticated--it had been Della's idea. Her skin was carnation pink-and-white, satiny and soft, and Della had spent long moments fondling her, licking her all over, running her fingertips over that warm soft skin and marveling at it.
Margaret had widely spaced, slightly up tilting pear-shaped titties, a slim waist, and long gradually rounding thighs and high-set, sleek calves. Her bottom was compact, upstandingly rounded, the cheeks set together so tightly that the crease between them was hardly visible. And her own plump fig of a pussy was just as hairy as Della's, if the truth be known. She had secretly determined to take a scissors to it when she got back to her room this very night at the apartment in Chicago.
Hardly did she guess and little could she know that certain alterations were going to be made with her voluptuous young virginal body and by her own father, to say nothing of an unexpected stepmother and two very swinging stepsisters!
CHAPTER TEN
"It's good to see you, Margaret. Did you have a good time out there?" Brad Parks asked as he welcomed his only child as she came out of the landing ramp. He gave her a perfunctory kiss on the forehead, as chaste and paternal as could be, and Margaret suffered this indignity with closed eyes, something he noticed at once and acknowledged with a grimace. It was going to start all over again, that nagging of hers! She was probably going to reproach him for having divorced her mother. All right, let her. He'd find some way of having his pleasure this summer, and be damned to her!
"Too bad you had to circle the field, but we've had some problems out here with the controllers," he explained. But Margaret only shrugged: "It doesn't make any difference. I really don't care much for Chicago, least of all this ungodly airport stuck out in the middle of nowhere."
Yes, Margaret was running true to form, nagging and complaining and whining. That trait she had certainly inherited from her mother.
They drove back in more or less relative silence all the way to his apartment. He tried at first to ask her questions about school, but she replied so tersely and disinterestedly that he gave up trying. One thing he did notice, though, was her ripened beauty. She wore a short white pleated skirt, and pleats were quite attractive-he had already noticed this in Sheila Davis' attire. Her blue rayon print blouse was extremely becoming, and she carried a light spring coat which she didn't need at all in this hot weather. By the time the cab arrived at his building, it was already six o'clock. "I'm afraid I didn't think of getting anything special for dinner, and I don't feel like cooking in this warm weather," he explained. "How would you like to have a good steak over at Morton's?"
"That'll be fine, Father," she said with another shrug of those handsome shoulders. It infuriated him. She purposely called him "Father" because she knew he would much rather be called "Daddy" but by calling him the former, she announced to him that she was a full-grown woman at eighteen, and beyond his parental tyranny-or at least that was what she thought.
And sure enough, she was up to her old tricks. Once they were at Morton's, she complained because the waitress was so slow, after she forked a bit of steak and chewed it, she announced in an insolently loud voice, "I've had much better than this at school, Father." Several heads turned in her direction at these words, and Brad Parks felt his face flush with a violent, suppressed rage. If she were about ten years younger, he thought to himself, he would reach across the table and give her such a slap. Or better yet, when she got home, take down her little panties, put her across his lap and smack that insolent bare behind of hers until she promised abjectly to be a good humble obedient little girl. But you didn't do this with an eighteen-year-old, not with a supercilious young lady like Margaret.
"If you don't like it, don't eat it, but you don't have to raise your voice like that. It isn't in the best of taste. Don't they teach you anything in that finishing school of yours?" was what he finally constrained himself to mutter.
"Oh I suppose it'll do," she grudgingly mumbled. When the meal was over, they walked back home and, trying hopefully to establish some rapport with her, he teasingly asked, "Maybe I know why you're so glum, Margaret. Maybe you've left some boyfriend behind you back East."
"Oh, Father, for heaven's sake!" she expostulated, giving him an angry, sulky look. "That's such a silly thing to say. They don't have any boys at the school where I am, you ought to know that."
"That's right, I forgot. Well, to cheer you up a little, I was thinking that in August, if I can manage it, we might both go to Hawaii for a vacation. Would you like that?"
"It's too hot in Hawaii in summer, Father. Oh it's very beautiful, I'm sure, but I'd much rather be in Europe."
He ground his teeth together, and he felt his fingernails dig into his palms. Yes, it had been a real mistake to let his wife pamper the girl instead of introducing her early in life to a good sound spanking on the bare behind when she got out of line. He pitied Margaret's husband-to-be; that unfortunate young man would find a sulky and spoiled child posing as a woman, capable of tantrums and icy insolence and sometimes loud-mouthed boorishnees. He sighed to himself. It was all too complicated. If only he'd had the real sort of wife who could have worked with him to bring up a girl like this so that she would take pleasure in the simple joys of life!
Margaret naturally inherited the other bedroom which her mother had occupied while the marriage had been in vogue. Brad Parks decided to sit up and read, a luxury he hadn't permitted himself too often, because of the volume of work down at the office. Margaret bade him a subdued goodnight, took a bath and went to bed. It was about midnight when he laid his book down, lit a last cigarette and stared gloomily out of the living-room window and wondered just what the hell sort of a summer it was going to be. Well, he thought to himself, he'd have an apple or a peach and then go to bed. He got up and walked towards the kitchen, and then he saw that Margaret was already there, opening the refrigerator door and looking in. And he caught his breath, because she was wearing a very sheer pale-blue nylon nightie and slippers, and the nightie clung to her titties and her hips, and it seemed to press against the hollow between her thighs so that he could actually see the dark mysterious triangular patch of pussyhair. My God, she was really gorgeous! She was tall and yet she had luscious curves. What the devil was he thinking about-it just showed how hard-up he was for pussy!
"Couldn't you sleep, my dear?" he asked in a jocular tone.
She turned with a gasp: "You startled me! No, I couldn't. I guess maybe it's too warm or the airplane trip got me on edge with all the delay. I was just going to have a piece of fruit or something and then try to go back to bed."
Dressed the way she was, it was very hard for him to forget that she was his own flesh and blood and that it was incestuous to think the things he was thinking. If she were a stranger, die wouldn't have time for a piece of fruit, she'd give him a piece instead. God, what titties she had, and what a lovely firm spankable ass! His fingers itched, but this time it wasn't entirely a punitive feeling that had possessed him: it was the perverse desire to treat her as if she were a woman to be wooed and won, beaten and then banged! It was going to be a very difficult summer after all...
About a week after Margaret's return to Chicago, a week in which Brad Parks had sometimes had grave doubts as to the wisdom of his having creating a child of his own after all, a sudden inspiration seized him. Maybe it would help Margaret if she learned to be with other people and to be forced to act in a perfectly gracious manner. She certainly must have acquired some knowledge of etiquette at that finishing school of hers, considering how much it cost. And so, on the following Friday evening, and to her own great delight, Sheila Davis found herself to have dinner with her boss, and the invitation also included Betty and Nancy.
Those two young ladies were still in Sheila's doghouse. She had laid down the law in no uncertain terms to the two girls, after scolding Nancy for being so greedy as to accept the bribe of a movie to leave her sister alone in the house with Bill Foster. Fortunately for Betty, her mother hadn't found that bloodied sheet and because she hadn't believed that her daughter would go that far even when allowed those few stolen hours of freedom alone in the house, she hadn't imagined that Betty and Bill had gone the limit. But there weren't to be any movies unless she personally went with the girls, she had informed them. And she was going to ask Mrs. McCloskey, the kindly widowed neighbor next door who had two boys and three girls of her own, to look in on Betty and Nancy every so often every afternoon while she was working just to make sure they weren't horsing around and acting in an unladylike manner.
Brad Parks took them all to the Blackhawk Restaurant, noted for its fine roast beef and steaks and its spinning-bowl salad. He had Margaret on his right and Sheila on his left, but his pleasure at being out socially with a very attractive woman was somewhat dimmed by Margaret's sniffy behavior towards Sheila's daughters. Margaret considered them both much too "immature," something she privately confided to her father when Sheila and her two daughters excused themselves and went down to the ladies washroom: "She's not bad, Father, but I just can't stand those two daughters of hers. That silly redhead trying to act like a lady, and that Betty with all her fine airs," she explained.
"That's something like the pot's calling the kettle black, don't you think?" he countered sarcastically.
"Why, whatever do you mean?"
"Come off it, Margaret. Betty Parks happens to be seventeen, just a year younger than you, and I think she's quite well behaved. Don't forget, Sheila--I mean, Mrs. Davis-doesn't have a husband so she has to bring the two girls up by herself. And it's difficult for a woman who has to work for a living."
"Sheila, hm? Don't tell me you're stuck on her, Father."
This catty remark hit closer home than Margaret could have guessed, and her father favored her with a furious glance and an angry, "Certainly not! She happens to work for me, and I thought it would just be a nice gracious gesture to have dinner here, that's all. Are you always suspicious of everybody's motives, Margaret?"
"Well, she works for you, doesn't she? She's just an employee, so why should you go to all this fuss?"
"I give up, Margaret. I'm not about to explain to you the motivations of my behavior. I'm just being hospitable, that's all. Now try, for God's sake, not to snub her daughters any more than you've already been doing. I must say, whatever they taught you back in that school, they left out a few things."
"I know you don't like me, Father, but unfortunately the court gave you custody. What I'd really like is to find a job and earn my own living and be away from you. And I wish I could be staying with my mother instead."
"You're beginning to make me wish exactly that myself, so let's jus both shut up before we say something that we might be sorry for," he glowered.
* * *
Another week had passed, and Brad Parks was beginning to wonder if he hadn't made a mistake bringing Margaret to live with him during the summer instead of letting her stay back there in the East. Nothing seemed to satisfy her. Of course, he didn't have enough E.S.P. to know that she was pining away for Della Loomis and that there were certain nights when she couldn't sleep because her pussy was itching and needed relief ever so badly. And on those occasions, Margaret resorted to frigging herself with her soft forefinger and closing her eyes and pretending it was Della all over again back in their room at school.
Sheila Davis was doing some similar pining. Though it was for her employer, and she was using her finger too on her own pussy and pretending that Brad was in bed with her giving it to her good and making up for all the lonely nights she had sustained since her husband had left her in the lurch. What made her even more determined to win Brad for herself was her realization that night at the Blackhawk that he was feeling rather miserable in his own daughter's company. And from some of the remarks Margaret had made at the table, she could understand exactly why. Margaret was an even more developed facsimile of her own daughters, and it was a very bad augury for her daughters' future. If only she could be alone with Brad without the girls being around or without his daughter knowing anything about it. She was quite sure Margaret didn't approve of her, an employee being treated with such friendliness just like one of the family.
And then it came to her. She could make him really angry with her, angry enough to want to spank her, and be alone with him, maybe she could get him so eager for her that he'd make the first overtures. And finally she hit upon the way...
It was the following Friday after the meal at the Blackhawk, about three in the afternoon, and Brad Parks was going over the ledger of the accounts receivable. He scowled when he came to the entry of the Margolies Cosmetic Company, one of the smaller but steady accounts which had been one of the first he had acquired when he began his own agency. They hadn't paid anything on their monthly retainer statement for the past three months. He buzzed for Sheila, and when she came in with her pad, he gestured to her to sit down and take dictation. He got off a mildly chiding letter to old Ed Margolies, pointing out that the bills might have been overlooked but that he would appreciate a check as soon as possible and also asking whether Ed wanted him to fly out to St. Louis and start work on the plans for the new national catalogue which would be sent to all wholesalers in the territories where Margolies Cosmetics were distributed.
Sheila Parks took the letter, typed it up and brought it in for his signature at about four-forty. "There," he said as he scribbled his name. "Let's hope we get that check next week. I can't understand why they haven't paid their bill. It's not like them at all."
"Oh my goodness, I think I forgot something, Brad!" she suddenly gasped.
"What?"
"There were a couple of checks I didn't have a chance to enter. It might be that theirs is one of them."
"Well, I wish I'd known that before I dictated this letter or I wish you'd spoken up before I dictated it. Go find those checks right now," he said with a frown.
"Yes, sir, right away."
He watched her leave the office, and his eyes fixed on the undulating verve of her luscious hips. This wasn't like her at all, forgetful and inefficient. It was a good thing she had finally spoken up, because old Ed was one of his best friends and might've resented a letter like that. A thing like that could cost a man the account!
Sheila entered with a folder and stood beside his desk. "I'm awfully sorry. I guess I forgot all about entering, though you can see that I had the vouchers for the first two months they were in arrears, Brad. And here's the check that came in the other day, which brings them up to date," she explained.
"Damn it anyway, Sheila, that was plain carelessness. I can understand the last check's not being posted, but here we have two previous checks dating back two months ago, and you still haven't entered them. Now I'm just wondering how good your bookkeeping system really is, if you can pull a stunt like this."
"I'm sorry, but those things happen," she calmly replied. He looked up, irked by her flippant tone which had no contrition at all to it: "Now what do you mean by a crack like that, Sheila?" he growled.
She shrugged. She had decided to play the game for all it was worth. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. "I mean, everybody makes a mistake once in a while. You can't expect me to be perfect, not on the salary you pay me." She quaked inwardly as she said those insolent words, but she was gambling that Brad really had a yen for her. If he didn't, well, she might as well know it now as ever and maybe look around and find herself some man who would appreciate what she had to offer.
"You know, Sheila, if you were a new employee your first week, I might just fire you for talking back like that and trying to shrug off your duties in this office."
"Well?" she continued her indifferent manner as she stared at him with a faint smile on her lips.
"You're behaving just like a petulant child, exactly like my own daughter," he exclaimed. "And if you were my daughter, I think I'd spank you for a trick like this."
"I bet you don't even spank your own daughter, and she needs it a lot more," she brashly countered.
His face went red. "That does it! All right, Sheila Davis, I'm going to call your bluff. I'm going to spank that hind end of yours until you apologize for being so uppity and sarcastic, and promise not to pull a stunt like this again. Do you know how much Ed Margolies means to me? Your salary and that of my artist and part of my own profit."
"Do you want to do it here or somewhere else?" she boldly demanded.
He stared grimly at her, and then he felt his prick begin to stiffen at the very thought of what he had so audaciously proposed.
"I suppose I do have it coming," Sheila Davis blithely remarked. "But you know, it's illegal, Brad, and I'll expect a raise in return for it, otherwise I could really sue."
He stared at her, and then burst into a laugh: "You're amazing, Sheila. You'll get a raise, all right.
Maybe it won't be the kind you're expecting. But I'll tell you about that later. Now, let's see, where can we give you this famous spanking? You think you could send your kids out to a movie?"
"They'd love it. Nancy has been dying to see the latest Charlton Heston picture for a long time."
"That's easy, then. Tell them to have supper out too, and I'll pop for it."
"Their trouble is, they'll just go for milkshakes and hamburgers, and that isn't too nutritious for growing girls."
"Then tell them to have a steak dinner. But I suppose maybe they wouldn't have enough spending money to advance it."
"No." She pondered a moment then brightened. "I can go home ahead and give them the money, and then you could come over later."
"Great. I'll call Margaret and tell her to amuse herself somehow. But of course I don't expect to give you that spanking on an empty stomach. So you better buy a couple of steaks for both of us--I realize I'm asking a lot in wanting you to prepare dinner for a man who is going to tan your hide after it's over with." He took out his wallet and gave her two ten-dollar bills. "Take a cab home. Fast."
"Yes, Master," she said demurely with a saucy and flirtatious little wink.
When she closed the door to his private office, Brad Parks uttered a loud gasp. She had just about asked for it. Well, by God, she was going to get it, and maybe more than she bargained for!
* * *
Nancy and Betty, amazed at their good fortune and even grateful enough to utter a grudging word of thanks to their benefactor Brad Parks, had been safely off to a nearby restaurant and then to the Biograph for their long-awaited historical movie about the Middle Ages when a man who owned a castle had the right of the first night with a beautiful peasant girl even though she was married to somebody else.
Brad Parks had just tucked away a thick porterhouse steak cooked with onions, crisp french fries, two glasses of iced tea, and pound cake over which delicious frozen strawberries had been poured.
"You're quite a cook, Sheila. I had missed that sort of thing. I fancy myself as a rather good one, but you've got me beat a mile."
"I'm glad I could please you in some ways," she said saucily.
"Now look here, young lady, don't go aggravating your case. That reminds me, you've got a spanking coming. Now suppose you go have a cigarette and relax a little, and then change into something suitable for the punishment."
"Yes I will, Master. May I ask one question?"
"I think you may."
"Are you going to give it to me on the bare or over my panties? The reason I ask, it would influence my choice of costume for the occasion."
He stared at her with his mouth gaping. This he hadn't really expected at all. It was an unexpected bonus from the gods. He knew that Sheila, being the mother of two luscious young teenagers, must certainly know the facts of life. But he hadn't been prepared for her insouciant and even titillating boldness. He had meant to give her a playful spanking, more a threat than execution, and maybe hope that from there he could lead to a successful pass which would get him pussy. But this was the most audacious and obvious invitation to the works that he'd ever heard from any woman. He stared fixedly at her, and then said, "To start with, over the panties, and to finish up with, on the bare. Go prepare accordingly, woman."
"I will, Master. I'll call you when I'm ready."
He stretched out his legs comfortably under the table, lit a cigarette and closed his eyes. She was really gorgeous. He wondered just how she would dress for the spanking. And about ten minutes later, he found out. There was a low husky voice calling, "Brad, I'm ready," from the direction of her bedroom, and he got up with a start and strode down the hallway and found the door open. And then his mouth hung open again and his prick took a tremendous thrust against his still zipped-up fly: Sheila Davis was standing beside her large double bed, clasping her hands meekly and her head bowed like a naughty little girl toeing in for the spanking, wearing just a black nylon bra and matching panties, and red leather high-heeled pumps. This week she had her hair in a long pageboy, just like Nancy's, and it made her look in her twenties rather than in her late thirties. And the dark-brown tumbling curls emphasized the warm glow of her soft tawny skin. He could see her nipples strain against the crests of that filmy black sheath which bound them in so lovingly and snugly.
"Does this please you, Master?" she looked up at him and blushingly asked.
"Very much." He seated himself on the edge of her bed. "Now just get over my lap and stretch out full length over the bed and we'll start your spanking," he ordered, trying to disguise the excitement in his hoarsening voice.
Sheila Davis obeyed, and she began to feel the secret twinges of eagerness in her yearning cunt. She didn't know what impulse had made her offer herself so submissively to a man, to let her own employer demean her this way. But the itching fever in her cunt told her, as did the aching in her turgifying nipples, that this was the proper way to cure her empty-bed blues.
She clasped her hands in front of her, closed her eyes and waited, shivering as she felt his strong left hand palm her bare back just above the waistband of her thin panties. Then suddenly she felt the first stinging slap, smacking down on the ripe summit of her upstandingly rounded bottom. Instinctively, she tightened her muscles, thereby diminishing the broadening crease between those luscious hemispheres, and Brad's glittering eyes could see that interplay of sphincter muscles and his prick grew harder than ever. The way she was couched over his lap made her belly press down against the tip of his straining prick through the fly of his dacron slacks. He brought down his hand a second time, on the other globe this time. Sheila gasped, crossed her slim ankles, and bit her lips. It wasn't unpleasant, but it did sting. And before she had time to ruminate about her feelings, his big strong hand came down again, on the base of her right bottomglobe, making her luscious posterior quake and shiver with the force of that smack. Instinctively, both her lovely legs kicked up, and one of her red leather pumps flew off to the floor with a thud as she glanced back nervously at him, her eyes widening and misty.
As for Brad Parks, he had just discovered the exciting temptation of spanking as a prelude to fucking. He knew now that he wasn't going to get out of this bedroom without pussy. The fourth smack landed in exactly the same place, and Sheila rewarded him with a plaintive "Oww! Not so hard, please, Brad!"
"You asked for it, baby, and you're going to get it," he said grimly. He pressed down harder with his left palm and then delivered four sharp smacks all over her plump upturned panty-sheathed bottom. Sheila wailed and squirmed, rubbing her bare calves together and the other pump flew off. When his hand came down again, this time at the top of her right hip, she squealed and rushed both hands back to cover up.
"Oh no you don't," he told her. His left hand grasped her wrists and swung them out of the way, and then he gave her three hard spanks on the left lower summit and then two on the right which made her burst into tears and wriggle frantically off his lap.
It was but a moment for his right hand to grab her hip and shove her back tightly up against him. "I think, young lady," he said thickly, "it's time to teach you a good lesson. Down come your panties!" With this, releasing her hands, he grabbed the waistband of the black nylon briefs and husked them down just below the base of her fascinating bottom. On the smooth warm tawny skin of her naked ass, the bright red imprints of his palm already glowed, lasciviously marking her voluptuous bare bottom.
"Oh don't, oh please, not too hard, it hurts already, Brad dear!" she sobbed, looking back at him plaintively.
His heart bounded within him. She had called him "dear." That meant that anything went--and it would! He caught her wrists again in his left hand, and began to spank. He wasn't an expert, naturally, this being his first time, but what he lacked in science he made up for in enthusiasm. His hand fell haphazardly, the top of her right hip first, then the base of her left cheek, then bridging both poutingly ripe globes over the shadowy groove which led to both her holes of pleasure, then two sharp smacks on the ripest curve of her right bottomglobe, and then a hard one on the other center. Sheila began to kick frantically, and to wriggle all she could and to weave her blazing hips. "Oh that's enough, darling, I'll be a good girl--I won't ever make a mistake like that again, I promise I won't, just stop spanking me!"
"And if I do, what then?" he leaned forward towards her and stared menacingly at her, raising his hand again.
"Oh no!" she wailed. "You can do anything you want, but please let my poor bottom alone!"
What he had hoped for was achieved.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brad Parks was shuddering with pent-up lust as he stared greedily down at Sheila Davis's voluptuous body, entirely naked except for the thin bandeau of her black nylon bra, and the fucked-down panties which, in her struggles over his lap during the spanking, had shifted to about mid-thigh. Her red leather pumps lay on the floor where they had been kicked off in her flurry of kicking as his hand had stung her bare tawny-sheened backside with exemplary vigor. And now that he had let go of her hands, she had plunged them back to her flaming ass and was rubbing dolefully, while looking around pathetically at him, tears running down her cheeks and her gray-green eyes very wide and blurred with new tears. He had never before had such a hard-on, not even on his wedding night with that uppity bitch of a wife he had finally got rid of some months back.
"Do you mean it?" he thickly asked, hardly able to control himself any longer, because it had been such a long time between fucks, now that Angela was across the Atlantic and never more would her soft furry slit be open to his prodding prong.
"Y-yes, Brad darling, oh, please stop spanking anymore, I'll do anything you want!" she blubbered.
But deep down inside her, Sheila Davis was experiencing a deliciously guilty feeling, that of being dominated and mastered very thoroughly by a hard-cocked man who wouldn't tolerate any nonsense from her, something she ought to have had from her ex-husband if he had really been a man and not the namby-pamby skirt-chaser he had turned out to be instead. She knew with a thrilling realization that in order to get off Brad Parks's lap, she was going to have to let him fuck her, and she knew also that she wanted it more than anything else in this whole wide world.
"All right, you may get up now, Shelia. Are you sorry you made that silly mistake at the office?" It was all he could do to keep his voice steady and to show her that he had perfect command of the situation, because he felt the overwhelming urge to fling her on the bed and get over her and cram his stiff aching prick deep into her furry cunt.
"Yes, I'm dreadfully sorry - it will never happen again - I don't know what I was thinking of, dear Brad! Oh please say you forgive me," Sheila sniffled. Her hands were still industriously rubbing her flaming ass, and he could see the cheeks tighten and open in the most lasciviously tempting way. Slowly she slipped off his lap, and stood, tottering a little, applying one palm against the edge of the bed while she kept the other palm busy at work soothing her heated naked behind.
Even though he was an amateur at this sort of domination over a woman, Brad Parks was granted by the goddess Venus a new kind of insight into the female psychology. Having started in a dictatorial manner, he had to finish like that to be respected, or she would gain the upper hand. That was why he said very sternly, "Stop rubbing your bottom or I'll give you something more to rub about and yell about, too, Sheila. Now take off your bra and get into bed, because I'm going to make love to you, do you understand me?"
"Oh Brad!" she breathed, standing upright now with her hands at her mouth, her face flaming with the sweet guilt and shame and inner desire all mixed up within her psyche.
"Be quick about it!" he threatened, "or I'll take you back over my lap and I won't let you up until my hand is just as sore as your tail, I mean it, Sheila!"
"Ohhhh! Right away, d-darling!" she gasped. Her hands rushed behind her, unhooked the bandeau, let the black nylon sheath flutter to the floor and her exuberantly panting titties thrust out in all their tawny-skinned glory. Brad feasted his eyes on them. How luscious and juicy and firm they still were! So widely spaced and solid, round and gorgeous, with plenty of resilient flesh to grab and squeeze while he rode her down!
"Don't stand there admiring yourself, do what I told you to! Into bed with you, woman!" Was his next order as he rose from the bed and took off his sport shirt. He was glad in a way that he'd worn casual attire to the office this particular Friday. It made it much easier to get peeled down raw to join her on the bed now without wasting any time so that she could work up a defense. Because nothing was going to stop him from fucking her, nothing except maybe a heart attack, and his last cardiogram had been perfect.
She hastily scrambled into bed, and rolled over onto her back, not without a gasp of discomfort as her tender flaming bottom rubbed against the sheets. Then she turned her face to stare at him, and her eyes fixed on the protuberance threatening to burst through the fly of his dacron slacks. He was hastily unbuckling his belt, and dragging down the zipper, stepping out of his slacks, and now he was down to shorts and undershirt and socks, having scuffed off his shoes. Sheila stared at him, feeling her pulses quicken. It was almost as if she had been overpowered and was about to be raped, and the feeling was absolutely heavenly!
Brad Parks pulled off his undershirt and then took off his shorts, and Sheila gasped at his well made, sturdy male body. He was still sinewy, and his belly was still lean enough to suggest he was much more youthful than his real age. And there was nothing ancient about the swollen, plum-headed shaft sticking rigidly out towards her and menacing her with the promise of the best fucking she had ever had.
"I don't think you want another kid, baby, and I certainly don't want one like Margaret again," he chuckled hoarsely, "so I'll just take care of things." But as he reached towards the night-table drawer to take out a package of safes, Sheila heard herself stammering, even as she averted her blushing face and closed her eyes, "You-you won't have to do that, darling... I-I take pills."
She hadn't been, not actually, until just last week. Maybe it was a subconscious feeling that something wonderful was going to happen to her neglected pussy, but last Tuesday evening she had gone to the neighborhood drug store and found herself buying a large supply. Not only that, she'd started taking them that very night -- just as a fortification against an unexpected male bonus in the form of just such a loaded prick which was now being flaunted at her.
"Sheila! You conniving little devil! Does that sort of mean you had a notion that I was going to make a pass at you?" he stood staring down at her, his prick harder than ever, and throbbing with its pent-up, dynamic rut.
"Y-yes," she confessed in a tiny voice.
He mounted on the bed and took his place beside her, turning to her on his side, putting his right hand on one of those panting titties of hers, and then his mouth sought hers. With a little whimpering moan, naked Sheila Davis circled his neck with her arms and hugged him to her, giving him her mouth generously in a long impassioned kiss. He was trembling at the feeling of her warm slightly moist skin.
She was ever so youthful this way, and the smell of her perfume was intoxicating. Even more so was the knowledge that she had purposely prevented conception well in advance, before he had even decided to take some actual steps to get himself a bedtime partner for the warm hot summer. In a way, he was almost grateful to Margaret. Her snippiness had made him realize all the more acutely how lonely he was and how tough it was to go without pussy for any length of time. He also wanted to forget Margaret, because if she was a woman, then he would find himself disliking that sex, and he liked pussy too much to judge all women by his daughter.
"Well, now," he said with a hoarse chuckle as he tried to control his flaring nerves, "that calls for some retaliation, I would say. You're just a little schemer, Sheila Davis. But you know something? I don't think I mind too much. And I'll tell you something else, now that we're down to bedrock - from the first day you walked into my office looking for a job, I had a feeling that I wanted to make love to you. And now it's come true. You're really gorgeous, you drive me wild just touching you and looking at you and smelling you. I warn you, it better be a double feature, because I'm not going to let you off with just a quickie, Sheila Davis."
"I-I don't want you to, darling," she blushingly confessed, again closing her eyes and turning her lovely face away.
His left hand was at the nape of her neck, stroking it, and now he went back to kissing her. Her lips were warm and moist and fruity, and they parted readily to his command. Frantic with desire, Brad Parks thrust his tongue between her Ups, and felt Sheila quiver and surge against him in an access of passionate desire. He slipped his right hands down from her tittie along her soft warm belly and then between her legs until she could feel her hairy slit. His forefinger told him that it was moist, announcing that she had prelubricatory juices to ready her for this union. So she really wanted him, the cunning little bitch! Well, it was mutual.
He put both hands on her titties now, moved over her and mounted. His hard rooting prick rubbed against her inner thigh just near that furry crotch of hers, and Sheila Davis shivered and uttered a sobbing gasp: "Oh darling!" as she knew the moment had finally come for her.
"If you only knew how I've wanted to do this ever since that first day," he was telling her hoarsely, as he steered his ramrod to the moist eager cleft and inserted it just inside the fleshy lips of her warm vulva. "I don't want to know what happened between your hubby and yourself, Sheila baby, but all I can say from first hand observation is that he was an idiot to leave a piece like you around loose. But his loss is my gain-oh baby, and what a gain you are!" For he had just thrust himself halfway into her cunt, and felt at once the contractions of her vaginal walls as if welcomingly gripping his ramrod and bidding it hello for a long sojourn. His mouth silenced her gasp of delight, and now her bare arms wound tightly around his neck and dragged him down atop her, arching herself up and wanting to be one completely with him.
"Oh put it all the way in, darling, oh it's so good!" he heard her gasp with that husky intonation which a passionate woman accords a man who is satisfying the inner cravings of her cunthole. Then he knew from this alone that they were perfectly mated and that he probably could have had pussy some weeks back when she first came into that office looking so forlorn and lovely and desirable. But it was just as well this way, because he had built up quite a crush on her, and the long denial was now going to culminate in the most marvelous union and cohesion.
His fingers tensing on her titties, he thrust himself home and to the balls, till he felt their hairs grinding together, and Sheila Davis forgot all her modes restraint and flung her beautiful bare legs over his sinewy ones, clamping' him tightly to her cunt-socket, so that he could feel the flutterings and the quiverings of her love-heath's walls along every inch of his ramrod. She felt herself responding as she never had before to cock, and she couldn't quite analyze it, whether it was because of him, or just because the guy she had had all those years before had been . so inept and so inconsiderate of her feelings and real needs. Whatever it was, it was glorious right now!
She gave him her mouth passionately, and she welcomed the insertion of his tongue by responding with her own till they rubbed together, and this made her shiver and jerk with the galvanizing goad of passion which was infusing every nerve and pore and crevice of her luscious naked body. "Oh Brad, oh darling Brad, it's so good, you don't know how good it is!" she breathed when at last he took his mouth away to give her air. "But oh my goodness - I just thought of something-"
"What's that, beautiful?"
"How am I going to go on working in the same office with you after this? I mean, every time you come near me, I'll feel this same-oh my, it's going to be a problem!"
"Not hardly. What would you say if I asked you to marry me?"
"What did you say?" she gasped, putting her hands up and gripping his shoulders and staring at him as he hovered over her, his prick still buried to the hilt inside her cunt, her legs still wrapped around his thighs, in the act of completing a down thrust that had cemented them together.
"I said, marry me. I've got a selfish reason, quite apart from what's going on right now. We're gonna be awfully good for each other, you and I. I've got a real brattish daughter, as you know. You tell me you've got two kids you'd like to have shown a little fatherly discipline. Well, Margaret needs a mother very badly, because the one she had spoiled her rotten. And if the two of us unite to teach her the ropes, maybe she'll turn out right. Otherwise it's going to be too late for her. If she goes to college in the fall to some fancy Eastern school where they pamper her and coddle her and make her think she's somebody special just because her dad has money enough to send her there, she's going to come out a perfect snob and she's going to be a real bitch all her life. Just like her mother-excuse my getting into personalities like that, Sheila baby."
"I'm very flattered you would talk about yourself like that, darling. Oh yes, I'll marry you! But I want to keep on working - that is, unless you don't want me to anymore?"
"From an economic point of view, it's marvelous." He gave her a sly chuckle and then drew his prick out to the brink of her cunt, making her gasp and clutch at his shoulders to pull him back. "You see, once you're my wife, I can make you work and earn your keep and I won't have to pay you any salary. I was only kidding, naturally, baby. But is the answer yes?"
"What do you think, you wicked man?" she panted. "And now will you please keep still and finish what you so wonderfully started?"
"Anything to oblige a beautiful young woman," he told her as he sank back down on her, feeling his chest mash down the jutting swell of her tawny-sheened titties, their tips dark and turgid with her cumulative passion. Their mouths met, and this time her tongue boldly took initiative and foraged between his lips to rub at his mouthwalls and his gums, while she tightened his grip of her bare legs over his thighs, imprisoning him to her saddle for the ride she so badly needed. Because all her insides were molten now, churning and seething, and the turbulent swell of her love-juices told her that she was almost at the brink of pussy gush.
Slowly he began to draw himself back to the very brink of her cunt, then as slowly sink back to the very depths, until he was in her to the balls. It was gloriously satisfying, and the reiterative friction made his prick taut and throbbing with the swell of all his seed. He knew he couldn't hold back much longer, but her wanted to. He wanted them both to come at the same time. His hands now moved under her bottom and squeezed the cheeks and she gasped. "Still sore from that spanking, Sheila?" he whispered. She nodded, blushing, whispered, "Yes, it is, if you want to know, you awful man you! But it's made me so hot I've almost forgotten it. Oh pinch me good there, it's so nice to feel you hold my bummy while you love me!"
"I'll teach you all the nice words, so you'll get hotter by the minute, baby. Even if I'm going to marry you, you're still going to be my favorite mistress, because to keep up the illusion of living in sin makes fucking all the more delightful," he warned her.
Sheila Davis agreed. Just hearing him say the word "fuck" and feeling his big hard prick rooting down to the depths of her cunt was making her lose all control, forget even her daughters, forget everything except that she was a vibrant, naked, eager piece of cunt who needed the fucking of her sweet young life.
"Get set," he prompted, as he dug his fingers into her still spanking-warm bottomcheeks, "I'm going to melt you down, baby!"
"Oh yes, please do-oh darling, that's so nice, oh don't stop, harder, quicker, oh my, oh darling, oh Brad, oh give it to me, oh Brad, I can't stand it anymore, I'm going to faint, oh Brad, shove it into me, spurt inside of me - oh my God - oh darling, darling, darling!!!"
Her voice had become flurried and almost shrill with passion and excitement. Her fingers dug into his back, her legs shifted and locked over his bottom as she arched up her loins to be rogered. Now he had quickened his thrust, and the slosh-slosh of his digging prick into her moist quaking sheath was sensual music that roused them both. He could feel the clipping of her vaginal walls more greedily now each time he shoved down home, and suddenly he quickened to the very zenith, and with a final thrust that hilted him up against her, uttered a cry and felt himself burst jets of viscous lust-lava deep within her womb.
At the same moment, Sheila Davis uttered a hoarse cry, her eyes rolling in their sockets, hugging him frantically to her, as she ground her body to him, mashing her titties hard against his chest, crushing her mouth on his and digging deep her tongue between his lips as she expired, feeling her own tides flow down to meet his furious love drench.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After that first magnificent mating, Brad and Sheila smoked cigarettes and had a drink of Scotch, sipping out of the same glass to celebrate their nuptials. Then he took her tenderly in his arms, began to kiss her titties, working down to her belly, until finally he pushed her knees back against her titties, bent his head down and began to gamahuch her with long lingering swipes of his tongue.
Sheila dug her fingers into the pillows and twisted them violently, her head rolling back and forth, her eyes mad with ecstasy. Never had a thing like that been done to her, and Brad was rapturous to discover that his impulsive oral caress further cemented the bond between them. He could tell from the way she jerked and wriggled and moaned and sobbed that this was brand-new to her, and he rejoiced that he had been man enough to forget his own selfish urge and gratify her for the pleasure she had just given him. Pleasure works in cycles, and the old maxim of casting your bread on the waters and coming back a thousand-fold pertains just as much to prick and pussy as it does to charity or to business. Because Sheila Davis began to arch and squirm her loins in the unmistakable rhythm of fucking, till finally she moaned, "Oh darling, you're driving me wild, oh how wonderful, oh I've never had that before - oh Brad, what a wonderful lover you are - oh give it to me, please put it into me, now, I can't wait anymore!"
From her own passionate reaction, he felt his prick hard again as if it had not already gone off violently inside of her. Maintaining her knees pushed back against her bubbies, he knelt up and steered his prick into that tempting pink moist gape and thrust him with a brutal dig to the very balls. Her legs flung over his shoulders now, and her arms reached out to him, as he bent forward to take her mouth and to maintain his cock digging hotly into her crevice. Again he felt the gripping of her cuntwalls, stronger this time than ever, and knew that he had unleashed a veritable furnace of fuckery in the sweet cunt of neglected Sheila Davis.
She had not one but several climaxes, indeed, and when she finally lay panting and relaxed and glowing ft with her ecstasy, as he went into the bathroom and swiftly washed and then dressed, she looked up at him with smoldering eyes and huskily murmured, "Oh my darling, I never knew it could be such pleasure for a woman, never, never! I love you so, and I'm so proud you want to marry me, what a wonderful lover like you could get just about anybody he wanted, even girls as young as your own daughter."
Sheila Davis didn't know it, but she had just unwittingly planted a seed which would sprout into the exquisite incestuous harem which she was going to give her fortunate employer and now husband-to-be...
The following Monday, Brad and Sheila spent their lunch hour over at City Hall filling out the. marriage license, and then went over to get their blood tests. They planned to be married the following Friday afternoon, at St. Paul's-by-the-lake, which was the church that Brad had gone to as a boy, though he was something of a slacker when it came to regular Sunday attendance. By now Nancy and Betty had been informed that they were going to have a step-father, and this had caused not a little consternation among the lovely sisters, who foresaw that their days of freedom and impertinent independence were numbered.
As for Margaret, she was absolutely flabbergasted when her father came home that evening after taking out the marriage license and smilingly informed her over the supper table that she going to have a new mother.
"I think that's absolutely horrible, Father!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flaming. "It's-well, it's almost - obscene!"
"I see. That's a curious word for you to use, Margaret. I wonder why you do. What's obscene about it? Don't you realize that a man has needs, and that here I am taking care of a grown up girl like you without any female companionship or help in the matter? Believe me, my girl, you're a major problem to me all alone, so I've decided to give up my bachelorhood and my own freedom, if you please, to have someone around who knows the feminine side and the feminine mind and can do some reasoning with you."
"Reasoning?"
"That's right, Margaret. In case you don't know it, you're very hard to communicate with. I know you resent me because I divorced your mother. One of these days you'll realize that your mother would have been, long-range, very destructive for you."
"I won't listen to anymore! You're just being sadistic about it. You never did love her, and you're taking it out on me. I wish to heaven that the court hadn't given you custody, I'd rather be with her any time!" she cried out, and then rose from the table and hurried to her room where she flung herself down on the bed and burst into hysterical sobs.
He was almost tempted to go in to her, take her over his lap, pull up her skirt and slip, take down whatever she wore as panties or pantie-hose, and give it to her on the bare bottom. But he postponed that delightful prospect, because now that he had had a taste of what spanking could really be like, he wanted to assume the role of corrective disciplinarian and stem father to Sheila's girls as well. Thus the seed of domestic punishment and passion had already sprouted well in his imaginative brain!
Next he had to think of the matter of the honeymoon. The business was going smoothly, and he could turn over the routine handling of the office to his account chief with a substantial raise and be certain that while he was away everything would be handled properly. He would have to make a few telephone calls to some of his personal clients and brief them about his honeymoon and see if they needed anything so he could be prepared. He might even have to do some telephoning back to the office or have proofs of the ads sent to him where he was going. Maybe it would be Hawaii, he wasn't sure yet.
And so on this Monday night, when he fell asleep with the delightful dream of being married to Sheila Davis and having her share his bed while her luscious red-haired daughter Nancy and her black-haired daughter Betty moved in with him and learned what discipline really meant, those two delectable young Lolitas were holding a council of war in Betty's bedroom at midnight, long after their mother had fallen asleep with similar pleasant dreams of the future.
"Nance, it's just awful! Mom is going to marry that man, and we'll have that snippy Margaret as our step-sister," Betty was exclaiming. She was in cute white silk pajamas, while Nancy wore a shortie nightie of yellow organdy which descended just to mid-thigh and shaped out her lissome legs and titties and bottom in the most provocative way "I'll bet he'll be an old meanie when it comes to dates and stuff like that."
"Sure he will. He'll want to make a good impression on Mom," Nancy said with the unerring instinct of the young and precocious. "That means no more Bill Foster for you, Bets."
"You quit calling me that!" Betty flushed. "That's what he did, and besides, he's a twerp, and I'll bet he's going around telling the other girls in school I was easy for him"
"Oh gosh. You mean-that afternoon I went to the movie, you let him?"
Betty nodded. "But if you ever breath a word to Mom, I'll slit your throat," she hissed.
"Aw, I didn't snitch, not about something like that, Betty," Nancy was awed by the vehemence of that threat. She snuggled up closer to her sister as both sat on the edge of Betty's bed. "You know I wouldn't. Gosh, though, it'll be funny having a new dad, won't it?"
"You said it. I wonder where they're going on their honeymoon. I wonder if he'll take us with?"
"Probably not," Nancy said, brightening. "That means we get to stay here in the bungalow and we could have lots of fun."
"Oh no," Betty said gloomily, "don't think Mom hasn't already thought about that possibility. She'd know that I'd have Bill Foster over here again if she were out of town. No, I've got a sneaky feeling we're going to have to tag along. I just hope it isn't a silly place like the Dells or Niagara Falls or anything like that."
"I don't think it will be. Are you going to try to see Bill before you go, that is, if we do go?" Nancy wanted to know.
"Maybe. I don't know yet. But let's forget about that drip. Now you promise, cross your heart and hope to die, you won't ever tell Mom I went the limit with Bill?" Betty anxiously asked.
Nancy shook her head and cuddled closer to her sister. Betty put out her hand and cupped one of Nancy's pert titties through the shortie nightie, and Nancy gasped and put her arms around her sister's neck and gave her a passionate kiss. Their tongues met delicately, like hummingbird wings, and Betty shivered voluptuously as she felt her pussy moistening with passion. "Let's have fun, Nance," she whispered, "because I'm so hot I've just go to have some relief. You made me think about that nasty boy, but he had the biggest cock and it felt so good inside of me once it was in me all the way. Put your finger in and love me, Nance honey!"
With this, wriggling away, she pulled off her pajama pants and, keeping on just the tops, squenched over into the middle of her bed on her back, her legs sprawled invitingly to show the black curls framing her pink snatch. Nancy gasped and blushed, and hastily tugged off her shortie nightie and draped it over the chair near the bed and, a willowy young supple nymph, her hazel eyes shining and her lovely milky-skinned flesh quivering with excitement, joined her sister. She knelt between Betty's knees and tentatively poked her forefinger into Betty's cunt. "Deeper!" Betty insisted, tilting back her head and closing her eyes and pretending it was Bill getting ready to fuck her.
Nothing loath, the red-haired fourteen-year-old thrust her finger in as far as it would go. "Gosh, Betty," she called excitedly, "I guess you did go the limit--I can't feel anything there."
"That's because I lost my cherry, silly. You've got one yourself, you know you have. Come on, darling, get on top of me and use your finger just like you were a fellow. I'll do something nice for you when you work me off, please!"
"All right. But no fair if you don't," Nancy pouted as she wriggled herself accommodatingly over her sister's half-naked body, her hands grasping Betty's titties and their mouths meeting as she began slowly to grind her soft young cunt against her older sister's love chasm.
Betty moaned and wrapped her lovely bare legs over Nancy's bottom, squirming and wriggling lasciviously to get the most out of this girl-fucking friction which was being engendered.
"Push it back and forth real fast now, and rub my tickler," Betty huskily instructed, growing more and more excited as she felt the sporadic diggings of her sister's finger inside of her.
Nancy obeyed, her breath coming quickly now, her eyes shining. "Like that?" she demanded.
"Umm hmm--only more over to the left-right there on my button-oh my goodness, that's lovely, keep that up, rub it back and forth real fast--oh Nancy, oh darling, it's awful good, oh my, I'm going to give it down, faster now, faster, please Nancy, please!"
Betty's voice rose to a sobbing gasp, and then she clapped one hand over her mouth, fearful that her loud exclamations of delight would rouse her sleeping mother. Nancy now had entered into the spirit of the game, and her forefinger was digging back and forth rapidly as she felt her sister buck and wriggle under her. And then suddenly she felt Betty arch up her loins, and felt moisture seeping around her digging finger and knew that her sister had creamed.
"That's enough," Betty faintly whispered as her head turned to one side and her bubbies began to rise and fall with the turbulence of her come. "Oh that was lovely... Oh Nancy, that was so good!"
"Now you've got to do something for me, Sis," Nancy petulantly insisted. "I want you to eat me."
"Nancy Davis! Where in the world did you ever hear a naughty thing like that?" Betty gasped.
"From Rita Tolsen, that big chesty platinum-blonde who transferred from Springfield - you know who I mean. I saw her on the street yesterday, and she stopped me and asked what we were going to do this summer. She has to go to summer school, because she didn't do so good in English and her dad is mad at her and wants her to be in the top twenty graduates," Nancy explained.
"But how did she happen to get on a subject like that?"
"She was telling me about her boyfriend, and asked me if I had one, and I said no, of course, and then she started giggling and telling me all the naughty things he did to her. And she said that he ate her, when I didn't know what that was, she told me. And that's what I want you to do to me, Betty."
"What is it?"
"Silly, you just lick and suck me, that's all, right between my legs, and I'll do the same for you. She calls that sixty-nine, Betty."
"Oh my gosh! That sounds like lots of fun. Well, after what you just did for me, I don't mind if you don't. I'd better go to the biffy and sponge up before I let you eat me, though. And try to be quiet."
"Look who's talking! You didn't even hold it down to a roar. It's a marvel that Mom didn't wake up and come in here to see what was happening," Nancy giggled.
A few minutes later, having shed her pajama tops as well, Betty joined her equally naked younger sister on the bed. Again she lay down on her back and spread her legs, and watched as Nancy awkwardly crawled on her knees over her head, then faced her loins and bent her head down and put her mouth against Betty's cunt. Learning by doing, Betty exploratively reached for Nancy's bottom and grabbed hold of it, then pulled her sister's cunt within access of her warm red lips. In a few moments, the sisters were kissing each other's pussies, and sighing and gasping as they began to grow excited from this naughty and secret girl-game.
Nancy began to squeal and groan as Betty's tongue furled between the delicate pink volutes of her quim, and her lovely oval bottomcheeks jerked and contracted and twisted every whichway, till Betty had to dig her fingers into her sister's hips and pull her down closer to her to get at her. "Hold still, for heaven sake," she hissed," and quit making all that noise, or Mom'll walk in on us and then there'll be hell to pay!"
"Oh my gosh--I can't help it--ooooh, it feels so wonderful when your tongue goes deep inside me like that, Betty darling!" Nancy moaned. She was neglecting Betty's cunt because the sensations in her young virgin pussy were overwhelming by now.
"You just get right to work on me, for what I did for you," Betty righteously demanded, "and maybe that'll stop your making all that noise, too."
"All right," Nancy conceded grudgingly, "but don't you dare stop--oh it's so nice when you stick it in all the way and fast and hard like that!"
She bowed her head and went back to cuntlapping, and now it was Betty's turn to wriggle and squirm and to spread her legs even wider so as to bare the innermost recesses of her pink warm moist young cunt. Nancy's tongue brushed over Betty's clitoris, and Betty couldn't help groaning aloud her joy: "Oh that's the spot, Nance, oh don't leave there, do it right there all the time, it's just wonderful!"
Nancy obeyed, and soon both girls were wriggling and squirming and groaning in their bliss. And then suddenly Nancy collapsed, flat on her sister's body, as the spasm shot through her, and her young creamy juices began to flow against Betty's lapping tongue and sucking lips.
"Oh that was heavenly!" she moaned a little while later, as she rolled over and then reversed herself and cuddled beside her sister, kissing her hard on the mouth. "Did I taste good when you ate me, Betty?"
"Real sweet and nice. And me?"
"The same," Nancy giggled. "Hey, I just thought of something!"
"What?"
"If we do get taken along on that honeymoon, you know, when that man and Mom are busy doing you know what, they won't be thinking about us and we can have lots of fun this way, even if there aren't any boys along."
"That's right! Oh gosh, I forgot, he might probably take Margaret along too. Then what will we do?"
"Well, I certainly wouldn't want her gamming me, not that stuck-up snotnose," Nancy righteously declared. And both of them giggled at the thought of putting one over on their parents and also on haughty Margaret Parks.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After the wedding Friday afternoon, Brad led his beautiful new bride down the aisle proudly showing her off to his business associates and friends, with his daughter walking behind them as maid of honor and Sheila's luscious daughters following behind Margaret, in white organdy with veils and bouquets of flowers. To Sheila's daughters' delight, Brad had revealed to them just before the ceremony started that he had made reservations for Honolulu for all of them. The only fly in the ointment was Margaret's accompanying them, but in all justice the girls had to admit to themselves that if he was being generous enough to take them to glamorous Hawaii on his honeymoon with their mother, they shouldn't gripe about his own daughter going along.
For once, Margaret Parks was less diffident and supercilious with the girls than would have been her wont, because for her too the thought of seeing Hawaii for the first time was very exciting. Brad had wired the Reef Towers Hotel for two penthouse apartments on the twelfth floor, and the three girls would take one while he and Sheila had the one at the very end of the corridor looking out on the ocean.
They were going to fly Saturday afternoon and arrive there about sundown Hawaii time, which would mean that Brad and Sheila would spend their wedding night in Brad's own Hyde Park apartment. Margaret, being the eldest of the three girls, was entrusted with acting as chaperone to her younger step-sister's back at Sheila's bungalow.
Brad and Sheila had discussed the bungalow, and he had thought it might be a good idea for her to try to sell it and put the money in a trust fund for her daughters. It was true that his apartment wasn't big enough for the three girls besides a beautiful new wife, but there was another apartment in his building which would be vacant the first of October, and it would be just large enough for the whole family. He had already slipped the office manager a twenty-dollar bill to reserve it for him, and it was practically a lead-pipe cinch.
Margaret wasn't too happy about the arrangement. It would mean that she would have to be nursemaid to two girls whom she didn't care for and who, she knew, hated her guts, and live with them out in that bungalow on the North Side while her father and "that woman" took over the apartment. Because her father had told her something else just before the ceremony started which had thrown her for a tizzy: she wasn't going back to any Eastern swanky girl's college this fall, but he was going to try and enroll her at a place like Northwestern or DePaul. And that would mean giving up all her friends. Sure, Della Loomis would be gone anyway, but there were other girls at the school who, she knew, played the sweet games of Sappho at nights in their beds, and she had been hoping to replace Della with someone just as lovely and talented. Now it would be dullsville for her.
However, when Saturday dawned, she was just as excited as Nancy and Betty at the thought of taking a cab out to O'Hare boarding the huge stretchout United Airlines jet for the non-stop flight to glamorous Honolulu. With the stewardesses in their lovely muumuus and the handsome young Hawaiian cabin boy preparing exotic-looking drinks with long sticks of pineapple in them and a genuine orchid floating on top, it was a gala occasion. Brad and Sheila naturally sat side by side, and behind them were Nancy and Betty and Margaret was in the third row at the window seat, but unhappily placed beside a fat bald man who looked like an utter creep. Still, there was some small good out of the arrangement, because she didn't have to yak with Nancy and Betty all through the trip. And the food was really scrumptious. Because she was eighteen, Brad told her to go ahead and order a Mai Tai, the standard Hawaiian drink with several kinds of rum and the big pineapple stick and oranges and a maraschino cherry and the orchid. It was really potent, but it gave her a terrific appetite for the luscious steak lunch which the pretty brunette stewardess served.
Then there was a movie, and soon, all too soon, she could look down and see Diamond Head on the left side of the plane as it began to descend and make its circular turn and go on into the International Airport.
An hour later, baggage and all, Brad and Sheila Parks for that was her name now--and the three girls entered the lobby at the Reef Towers and smiling bellboys took charge of the luggage as the happy couple registered, then went up in the elevator to their suites.
We ate so much on the plane, kids," Brad said to Nancy and Betty and Margaret as they inspected their attractively furnished apartments, each with kitchenette, bathroom, huge double bed for Brad and Sheila, and for the three girls, three twin beds, "that just a snack will do after we get unpacked. We ought to go walking along the main drag, Kalakaua Avenue, and see all the shops and the fancy eating places. Then we'll get a good night's sleep, and tomorrow, Sunday, we'll start with the swing of things. There's a big luau over at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel we're going to take in, and hear Ed Kenney sing and see the hula dancers and the fire dancers from Samoa."
About an hour later, the quintet went for their walk, stopped at one of the outdoor cafes along the main drag, walked out to the beach of the Royal Hawaiian and watched the moon tint the calm blue water with its silvery rays.
"Well, here we are, in the land of aloha!" Brad said tenderly to his beautiful dark-brownhaired wife, his arm around her waist. "Feel like going to bed early, baby?"
"Brad Parks! The children will hear you!" she whispered back, pretending to be scandalized.
"I'm glad you said children. You know, I've been meaning to ask you, Sheila, just how do you want me to act towards Nancy and Betty?"
"I want you to treat them as if you were their very own father, darling, that's what. I mean it. I've been thinking about this ever since you first decided you were in love with me."
"And still am, as I'm going to show you as soon as the lights are out," he firmly corrected, giving her bottom a playful squeeze which made her blush and gasp.
"All right then. Now Nancy and Betty have never had a hand laid on them in all their lives, and I'm of the opinion it's high time to start. I told you about Betty and that awful boy. And I told you how I caught him coming out of the bungalow that afternoon you dropped me off, and how she practically lied when she said that nothing happened. I know that he's had enough reputation preceding him to make me worry about her not being a good girl anymore, but I also happen to be practical enough to know that he's had so many girls he knows how to keep them out of trouble. I didn't feel like pressing the point and making an issue of it and having a knock-down, drag-out fight with Betty, darling. But I'm sure that-well, I'm sure she's lost her innocence of that unscrupulous character. If I'd been firmer with her, if I'd spanked her, she would never have dreamed of inviting someone over to the bungalow when I was downtown working. And Nancy is too impertinent, and she thinks she's just as smart as Betty and forgets that she's only fourteen. If you have to spank them, I'll back you up."
"You mean that? And how do you feel about Margaret? Be truthful now."
"I think she's a very lovely young woman. But I also think she's a bit brattish."
"Go to the head of the class, Sheila baby. She's that and more. To tell you the truth, I've been itching myself to give her a paddling, but maybe now that we've got some step-sisters for her to toe the line with, she'll take her chances and get punishment when it's deserved just as they will. But come on now, I can see the kids are looking our way, and I don't want them to overhear us. Besides, I want to get you alone and in one of those gorgeous muumuus with nothing under it except that soft sweet skin of yours, Sheila."
"I'm so glad I married you, darling. And what a romantic place this is for a honeymoon!"
And so they walked back, all of them with their own thoughts. Margaret walked off to one side so as not to be abreast of Nancy and Betty, and those two lovely Lolitas were cattily discussing their older step-sister in no particularly friendly terms. Sheila and Brad let the way, eyes only for each other, oblivious to the milling throngs of chattering tourists on the main drag.
And at last Brad and Sheila found themselves back in their suite, the door locked, the lanai open to the balmy trade winds and the wonderful night air of Honolulu.
"Brad Parks! Did you walk down the street with that showing?" Sheila giggled, pointing to his fly. There was no doubt, he already had an enormous hard-on.
"I don't think so, baby. It started the minute I got out of the elevator on the twelfth floor with my arm around your very slim girlish waist and started thinking about what's going to happen right now," Brad Parks chuckled. He reached for her, cupping her by the titties, pulled her to him as her arms went round his neck, and he gouged his prick hard against her soft crotch as their lips met and their tongues furled together.
"Oh darling, hurry, don't keep me waiting, I' practically wanted to have you rape me on the plane," she breathed as his hands went down around her bottom and squeezed the cheeks, then goosed her playfully.
"I'm ready right now, as you can feel, baby."
"Oh no, I want you skin to skin against me, lover," Sheila murmured, as she began to tug up her dress.
He furled up her slip and helped her tug both garments off her head and shoulders, then suddenly unfastened her pantiegirdle, as well as the supporters and let it slither down to her ankles, grabbed the bare cheeks of her behind and put his mouth fervently to her bushy cunthole and applied a long and lingering kiss.
"Ohhh, darling!" Sheila Parks moaned, clenching her fists and tilting back her head and closing her eyes, her thighs shivering and trembling, the muscles along her inner thighs standing out against the soft tawny sheened skin, "I'm just helpless when you do that to me, lover!
I wish I could stand here for all eternity and have you love me that way, Brad dearest! It's so tender and delicious, it makes me feel so much like a woman, and I'm glad I can be a woman for you!"
He rose now and hastily stripped off his clothes, while she unhooked her bra, kicked off her shoes, and without bothering about her smoke-colored nylons which had begun to sag down her lovely rip thighs, scrambled into bed and turned to him joyously. All inhibitions were gone now, something she had never, dreamed was possible after the way her ex-hubby had left her with a guilt and shame complex about sex. It was all so natural and good and direct and fierce and enjoyable.
His fingers were squeezing her bottomcheeks, his forefinger slyly tickling the crease along her asshole, and then delicately probing between the lips of that dainty and furtive rosette while she moaned in delight. Suddenly he rolled her over onto her back, and thrust his stiff hard prick immediately to the hilt inside her moistening cunt. Sheila groaned and clamped her arms and legs around him, closed her eyes and gave herself up to her wedding night. They didn't keep count, but was at least midnight Honolulu time before they finally decided to get some sleep so they could spend a full day with the youngsters on Sunday.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Margaret Parks hadn't slept too well. She had taken the bed nearest the door, and her two step-sisters, the other two, and they had whispered back and forth and she had strained to overhear without wanting to let them know that she was trying to eavesdrop, but she hadn't got too much out of it. They had taken turns at the bathroom, and it seemed to her that both of them had tried to watch her strip naked. Something she would never permit anyone to watch her doing, unless it be dear Della. She had gone to the bathroom and locked the door, when she had seen that Betty and Nancy had calmly removed everything right in front of her. She couldn't help noticing how well developed both girls were, and surprisingly the fourteen-year-old redhead with those saucy pear-shaped titties and that oval pair of impertinent milky-rosy-flecked bottomglobes.
As she swiftly showered, enjoying the soft water and the perfumed soap, she wondered idly whether Nancy and Betty had ever played around the way she and Della had. It wouldn't be unusual if they did. Lots of sisters did it. There were the Elender twins at the school she had gone to, Nora and Felice, two rather tall, bespectacled twin blondes of about seventeen and a half, who had been discovered one evening by a monitor entwined in each other's arms stark naked and grinding pussies together. They had been summoned to the dean of women's office and given a terrible lecture, Margaret had heard, and then given the choice of dropping out of school of their own accord or being disgracefully dismissed.
When she finally heard them both breathing regularly and knew they were asleep, she slyly put her finger under her nightie and found pussy, and began to frig herself, She closed her eyes and pretended she was back East, with Della alone with her in the room, and she bit her Ups and squirmed and arched herself as she was frigging, till slowly and tantalizingly she built to climax and then had to clap the other hand over her mouth to stifle the groan of rapture that tore form her when she felt her lovecream oozing down against her finger.
But when she fell asleep, she had no way of knowing that Betty suddenly propped herself up on one elbow, whispered across the narrow space between the beds to her sister Nancy: "Hey, honey, you still sleeping?"
"Uh uh," Nancy sleepily murmured, running a hand through her coppery curls.
"Want to know something? Our big sister had to play with herself to fall asleep. No fooling. I woke up about forty minutes ago, and I thought I was seeing things, because her sheets were moving this way and they, and then I figured it out and I heard her moan a little. She was playing with pussy, Nancy. Can you beat it?"
"Gee I wonder--no, she'd only snitch, she's the type."
"You wonder what? That maybe we could all play games? Gee, wouldn't that be something!" Betty giggled. "Well, better go to sleep, sweetie pie. See you in the morning."
* * *
The honeymoon lasted three glorious weeks, and Sheila acted like a young girl in love for the first time. She even learned to go down on her knees and suck his prick to pay him back for gamming her pussy, and by the time they were ready to return to Chicago, Brad Parks knew he had made the right choice in a wife who could be all things to one man - his lucky self.
But he and Sheila had both watched the behavior of their daughters during this halcyon honeymoon, and made some mental notes. Nancy and Betty were relatively well behaved, but once the glamour of Hawaii had become old hat to Margaret, she started to act with the same lordly insolence that she had always shown in her father's presence. The day before they were to leave, indeed, she had actually got into a quarrel with Betty and Nancy over an insignificant thing, and she had come as close to slapping her two step-sisters as she could without actually doing it. This too was noted down against her.
And so when they arrived back in Chicago, Brad gave Margaret a long talking-to on the subject of being the "house mother" for Betty and Nancy. "Under no circumstances are you to allow either one of them to have boyfriends over. I'll be checking with you every so often. I'm going to put you on your honor, Margaret. I know that so far you haven't given me any trouble in that direction."
"Of course I haven't Father," she said sharply. "Besides, I don't know any boys in Chicago. And as for those two creepy step-sisters of mine, they just better not try anything like that while I'm around."
"I don't like that bossy attitude, however," he rebuked her. "I expect you three to do the chores, to cook your own meals, and of course you'll come out here every so often for a home-cooked meal which your new mother is going to prepare. But this is going to be a sort of experiment, and I think it will be good for all three of you if you enter into the proper spirit of cooperation. You can understand that we still want a little privacy, because the honeymoon isn't over for us yet. One day when you're older and have a husband of your own, you'll understand that. I hope one of these days, Margaret, you'll be a little more cheerful about things and take them in your stride."
But she only shrugged and looked down at the floor and he didn't push the subject.
Getting back to the office was exhilarating for him, because a lot of new business had come in, and he spent the first day making a lot of long-distance phone calls, conferring with his staff and in general finding that the office had prospered in his absence and would have very good signs for a most lucrative fall and winter.
But most of all, he was eager to get through his first day to get back home to Sheila and fuck her hard, because he had never before found a girl, even Angela, who had so readily adapted herself to his prick-needs. As for Sheila herself, she was somewhat still amazed at her own alacrity in responding to him, and in even spontaneously doing things which she hadn't dreamed of doing with her former husband. Like sucking his cock and tickling his balls, for instance, or even putting her finger into his bumhole when she really wanted him to screw her hard and fast.
Friday finally dawned, and Brad and Sheila decided they would pay a surprise visit to their three daughters out on the North Side, and left the office early in a cab, stopping first at a supermarket to buy some strip steaks, bantam com, and a couple of gallons of ice cream.
Sheila had given Margaret the duplicate key to the bungalow. So when they arrived at the bungalow, she didn't bother to ring, but used her own key and the two of them walked in on a scene of utter chaos.
Betty and Nancy were standing there shouting invectives at Margaret, who was red faced and furious with anger, her hair disheveled, and the top of her dress tom.
"For God's sake, what's this all about?" Brad angrily demanded.
"Father, these two bitches are just impossible, I won't stay with them another minute!" Margaret hysterically cried as she ran forward and flung herself into his arms, much to his surprise. She'd never really been demonstrative, and just tolerated a kiss on the cheek or the forehead most of the time. "They said the most awful things about me! They said I hogged it all in Hawaii, and they said I was a lousy cook--"
"Well you are," Nancy jeered, sticking out her tongue at Margaret.
"That'll be enough of that, Nancy!" her mother warned.
"Now let's get down to the cause of the trouble," Brad decreed with the wisdom of Solomon. "Betty, what's your version?"
Betty's version was that she and Nancy had had it up to the neck with Margaret's overbearing ways, with Margaret's slipshod housekeeping and poor cooking. Also she thought that Margaret was much too bossy because she and Nancy had wanted to go over to see some of their old girlfriends from school, and Margaret had said that they weren't to leave the house at all and that she suspected they were going out to see fellows.
"I think the air has to be cleared. First we're going to have supper, and then we're going to attend to all of you," Brad said ominously. "Margaret, get these steaks on the fire, and you, Nancy, clean the corn and put it in the pot with water and bring it to a boil, and you, Betty, stick this ice cream in the refrigerator freezer and go tidy up the table."
"The bungalow is a perfect mess," Sheila wailed, shaking her head in despair.
"Put down a few more black marks in the little book, honey," Brad chuckled, but there wasn't any humor in his face at all.
Supper was eaten in relative silence, and it wasn't too bad, considering that Margaret had almost charred the steaks because her mind was on her furious hatred for her new step-sisters. Still, as both Sheila and Brad liked their meat well done, they didn't complain too much. But the way Margaret sat broodingly staring at her plate and giving Nancy and Betty a look of undisguised hatred from time to time, did go against the grain.
So, after the dishes were washed, Brad Parks looked at his beautiful wife meaningfully and she nodded.
"Come on, all three of you," he peremptorily declared, "we're going up to your mother's former bedroom."
"Gee, what's the matter, Daddy?" Nancy guilelessly demanded, looking very worried and giving Betty a questioning look.
"You'll find out when you get there, young lady," her mother angrily shook a warning finger at her. "N do as your father says, this minute!"
So the three girls resignedly moved down the hallway towards Sheila's former spacious bedroom, and Brad waited for them all to enter, then his wife, and then he entered and closed and locked the door.
"Now then, girls, you might as well prepare yourselves for a spanking. Because that's what each one of you is going to get from either your mother or me," he decreed.
Gasps of utter consternation and even horror greeted this unexpected announcement. Margaret recoiled, hand to her mouth, her eyes huge: "Daddy! You don't mean that-but I'm too old for that--these brats--"
"That'll be quite enough, Margaret. And as for you, Nancy and Betty, I'm going to let your mother spank you first of all, and I'm going to tend to Margaret, just to show you that I'm impartial and I'm not playing any favorites," Brad further resumed. Then, striding towards his incredulous mature daughter, he seized her by the wrists and led her over to the side of the bed, seated himself on the edge, and dragged her across his lap.
"No, Father! I'll hate you for this to my dying day -don't you dare-not in front of them-you haven't any right to do this to me!" Margaret screamed.
"Come over here, Sheila darling, and hold her wrists. I think she's going to put up quite a struggle."
"Glad to, Brad darling." Sheila hurried over to the bed and seized her step-daughter's wrists and then sat down at the foot of the bed and stared compassionately at the fuming, almost tearful blonde beauty: "You had it coming, believe me, honey. Even if I am new to the family, I have to admit that. However, Betty and Nancy are going to get their share too, so you needn't feel singled out or left out, whichever way you'd rather look at it."
"I hate you all--he shouldn't have ever married you, oh Daddy, please don't-oh don't pull up my clothes, not in front of them-oh if you have to, please Daddy, send them out of here--I--I'll take my spanking, but don't let them watch!" Margaret began to sobbingly plead. For he had calmly seized hold of. her skirt and slip, rolled them neatly up past her waist, and then clamped his left arm over the rolled-up garments and around her waist to maintain her position.
Margaret turned her lovely, haughty face back over her shoulder, her closely-spaced dark blue eyes wide with absolute astonishment. She hadn't dreamed her father would ever go so far. And now that his fingers were inserting inside the waistband of her panties, and starting to drag them down, she tugged at her wrists with all her might and screamed out, "Oh, not on the bare, please leave my panties on, please, Daddy!"
He didn't answer. He dragged her panties down to mid thigh, and then unfastened her garterbelt tabs and tucked them in under the belt at the small of her back. Her voluptuous carnation-tinted soft skin was exposed now from the straps of her bra down to the tops of her charcoal brown nylons. She was already beginning to kick her lovely stockinged legs in the air, and to twist and wriggle frantically. Nancy and Betty, standing there as if petrified, stared disbelievingly at their step-sister's tightly set full round naked bottom-cheeks.
Tightening his hold around her waist, her father raised his hand and brought it down with a loud smack on the right summit, then as swiftly one on the other side to even things up. Two bright imprints of his palm at once sprang up on Margaret's voluptuous, resilient, ripely mature naked bottom, and she screamed and struggled frantically, imploring Sheila to let her go. But Sheila ignored these pleas, because she was in thorough sympathy with her husband.
His hand rose and fell about forty times, and before the last swat stung Margaret's flaming, swollen naked behind, his once haughty and supercilious daughter was dissolved in tears, pleading like a child for mercy and swearing she hadn't meant any harm towards either Betty or Nancy.
"Now then, young lady, you can go to the corner and stand there facing it, clasping your hands in front of you. Wait a minute, Sheila, got a safety pin? I want to pin up her clothes so they don't fall down over her bottom. I want to keep looking at that bottom of hers and remember that this is the first time she's ever had a spanking, because I'm going to repeat the process quite often if she doesn't snap out of it pretty soon," he said grimly.
Overcome with tears and shame, poor Margaret bowed her head and gave in to hysterical groans and tears and sobs while her father "prepared" her. Then she was undignifiedly pushed off his lap, ordered to walk to the corner and to face it. This she did, her hands clasped at the back of her neck, her uprolled skirt and slip laying bare her voluptuously ripe body. But the angrily flaming half-moons of her naked bottom told their own eloquent story.
When she was finally released, she clapped one hand over her cunt and the other to her sore bottom, and hobbled off to the comer, sniffling audibly. But this time Nancy and Betty didn't giggle at her plight. They exchanged frantic looks at each other, knowing their own turn was at hand.
"Nancy Parks, pick up your dress and slip, and get yourself over my lap this minute. Betty, go bring me that hairbrush from my dresser," Sheila Parks commanded as she seated herself in a straight-backed chair.
Nancy began to cry, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, "Aw Mom, please let me off, it wasn't my fault, honest it wasn't - she was so nasty all this time-"
"That'll be enough out of you, Nancy, unless you want me to use the bristle side. Now get over here at once. Thank you, Betty. You can just stand there at attention and watch what Nancy's going to get, because you're next," a new Sheila Parks calmly and incisively declared.
Nancy glanced at her new step-father, but he sat on the edge of the bed with folded arms, grinning, and there was no sympathy in his look at all. With a sob, she stooped and caught up her garments, trussed them up over her waist, and then miserably walked over to her mother's chair and slowly laid herself over Sheila Parks' lap.
At once and efficiently, considering her lack of experience in the past, Sheila Parks tugged down Nancy's skin-tight white nylon pantie briefs, shifted her a little over her lap, and then, shifting herself, clamped her right leg over Nancy's stockinged calves so as to pinion her daughter and prevent her escaping the full justice that was due her naked condemned milky seat.
This done, she reached down to the floor where she had put the hairbrush, picked it up, and started Nancy off with the first spanking of her young life by applying the brush in two brief stinging swats to the base of each beautifully upturned and glossy white bottomcheek. Nancy at once burst into tears, jerked and squirmed, but Brad had already come over, squatted down, and grabbed her wrists just as Nancy was about to rush her hands to cover up her all too vulnerable bare ass.
He watched his beautiful wife with a new light in his eyes, and he couldn't help staring down at Nancy's pert oval bottomcheeks as they grew redder and redder, tossing and bounding and jerking in the air, exposing at times the exquisite sight of her dainty pink cunt, while her tearful cries and frantic supplications for mercy went unheeded until Sheila had given her at least forty spanks with the hairbrush.
Then, pushing her daughter off her lap, Sheila Parks looked at Betty and commanded, "Now you, young lady, I want you bare except for your panties, garterbelt and stockings, over my lap and ready for a spanking. Make it quick!"
Betty began to cry, forgetting how old she was, forgetting that she had lost her cherry to Bill Foster, seeing only her father's stem face fixed before her, seeing the grim hairbrush in her mother's hand. Groaning, she at least reluctantly hoisted up her clothes, and reluctantly draped herself across her mother's lap. But a new ordeal was in store for her: "Now reach back, pull down your panties and show me your bottom for the hairbrush!" was the order.
After she had obeyed, really sobbing loudly now, she bowed her head and gripped the rungs of the chair to support herself. Sheila Parks was in no hurry; in the most leisurely way imaginable she readjusted Betty's voluptuously mature young body over her lap, saw to it that skirt and slip were well out of harms way and couldn't fall down to shield the defenselessly upturned, solid round behind of hers. Brad, who had stood over beside the chair ready to help hold Betty's hands, watched his beautiful wife efficiently ruck down Betty's panties, undo and then tuck the tabs of the garterbelt under the belt itself, and leave that voluptuous pair of quaking and cringing bottomcheeks to the stern justice of the hairbrush.
As it began to smack down, even Nancy and Margaret looked back from their places in the corner, still sniffling, their eyes red and swollen, their bottoms both flaming and swollen from the sound chastisement they had received. Betty kicked and twisted and wriggled with all her might and main, but she couldn't get free. And during those abortive attempts, her mother used the hairbrush even more violently, so the crisp THWACK! THWACK rang out in the room punctuated by Betty's frantic pleading cries.
At last it was over, the weeping brunette was released, staggered to her feet, rubbing her bottom frantically, and was ordered to another corner of the room where all three were now standing in penitence.
"Well, young ladies," Sheila Parks satisfiedly pronounced, "you've had this coming to you, all of you, for years. So don't start feeling pity for yourselves. Your father and I have decided to punish you whenever you need it. So I wouldn't advise you to try any retaliatory acts, because they'll only boomerang against your own sore bottoms. Now we're going back to our apartment, and you, Margaret, quit acting like a school teacher and you, girls, try to get along harmoniously. Because if I ever hear or see another fight like the one we walked in on, I will use the bristles!"
So saying she rose from the chair, tossed the hairbrush onto the dresser, and looked significantly at her husband, who followed her out of the room, locking the door behind him.
They went back to the living room, and his finger thrust up her legs all the way into her pussy assured him that she was just churning with cunnycream and dying to be fucked.
"You three girls will stay in the corners until we come and let you out," Sheila declared with a firmness to her voice she had never heard before. Then, closing the door behind the three sniffling and unhappy teenagers, she flung herself into Brad's arms and panted, "Oh carry me over to bed, or on the couch or even on the floor, I'm so hot I'm going to explode, I need to be fucked so awfully hard, darling!"
He took her back to the living room where on the wide couch he laid her down, while Sheila tugged impatiently at her own clothes to ready herself. As soon as she had let down her panties, he opened up the zipper of his fly, liberated his prick, and sank down on her. "There isn't time to undress totally, so you'll just have to accept what you get, baby," he said thickly.
But Sheila Parks didn't complain. Unbeknownst to herself, the act of spanking Betty and Nancy and participating in haughty older Margaret's thrashing had made her so wildly roused for a fucking that she wouldn't have cared if he had been encased in a robot's body so long as he got his prick out and screwed her.
Their groans and sobs and gasps now filled the night, as he dug furiously back and forth inside of her, his fingers tickling the places he had learned she loved most to be tickled.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Margaret, Betty and Nancy, each in a separate corner facing the wall, clothes pinned up and reddened bottoms bared shamefully, sniffled and sobbed long after Sheila and Brad had left the chastisement scene.
Finally, when it was evident that, just as they had promised, their parents were going to leave them there for an hour of meditation, Nancy dared to whisper to Betty, "does yours hurt as much as mine does?"
"You said it," Betty mournfully sniffled, putting back her hand and rubbing her flaming behind. "I wish we hadn't got into an argument and started all of this. It didn't do us much good to get Margaret smacked, not after what we got."
Hearing this, Margaret Parks covered her face with her hands, bowed her head and wept, for now shame began to be the greatest anguish experienced. The idea that she, eighteen, haughty and aloof, had actually been seen by her younger step-sisters with her bottom bare and getting smacked just like a child, was just unthinkable, crushing to her pride and ego.
"Aw, come on, Margaret, I'm sorry," Nancy murmured placatingly, "honest, I didn't mean to get you into trouble."
"I didn't either," Betty chimed in. "Let's bury the hatchet and be friends. I guess things are different now, we've got a father, and you've got a new mother, and I guess we'd better start learning how to please them or there'll be more sessions like this, and I for one have had all I ever want, believe you me!"
Margaret sniffled again, then turned her face slowly to stare at her step-sisters. "I--I guess I was sort of in the wrong," she admitted, which was the first step forward she had made in a long time towards bettering her nature. "I didn't mean to get so bossy. It's only-well, after Dad divorced my real mother, I just felt I hated everybody, mostly him. And I didn't like the idea of his marrying anybody else, because it looked like a put up job."
"I know how you feel. Don't let it get you down. Let's shake hands and be friends. We'll sure get along better than if we're enemies all the time," Betty wisely proffered.
And so all three of them left their corners and came forward, and Nancy and Betty momentarily forgetting that they were naked from their tummies down, offered their hands for Margaret to take and shake.
"Gee, you're really pretty, Margaret," Nancy breathed, her eyes catching a glimpse of the plentiful mossy brown curls framing Margaret Parks' virgin cunthole. "And you've got such nice pink and white skin, and such a gorgeous shape. Hasn't she, Betty?"
"Yeah, she sure has. Was that the first time your Dad ever spanked you, Margaret?" Betty wanted to know.
"Yes it was! It was just dreadful -- it still burns, I bet it hurts even more than the hairbrush hurt you both," Margaret ruefully sniffled.
"Let's see," Nancy giggled as she walked around and stared at Margaret's flaming behind. "Golly gee! He sure does have a hard hand. Why, it's almost as red as Betty's bottom from the hairbrushing Mom gave her!"
"Please, let's not talk about spankings anymore. I wish we could take our clothes down and hide all this," Margaret said unhappily.
"Let's kiss and make up," Nancy whispered mischievously. She came forward, put her arms around Margaret, and arching on tiptoe, thrust her naked loins against her older stepsister's, and gave Margaret a passionate kiss on the mouth.
The ice was broken in more ways than one. Feeling young Nancy's soft silky pussy-curls rubbing against her own voluptuous young snatch, Margaret shivered, gasped, and then, putting her arms around the young redhead, kissed her back hard on the mouth and pressed her pussy tightly against Nancy's.
"Mmmmm, that feels so nice!" Nancy breathed. "We're going to be real good friends, I can see we are."
"Oh yes! You're so pretty for your age, Nancy honey," Margaret sighed. "Maybe if I rubbed your bummy, it wouldn't hurt so much?" and suiting the action to the word, she put her palms over Nancy's oval bottomglobes and began to caress them lingeringly. Nancy moaned feverishly with delight, tightening her hold around Margaret's waist, and their lips merged passionately. At the same time, the younger girl began to grind her cunt against Margaret's, while Betty, wide eyed at this sudden new affection between her younger sister and the snooty step-sister, watched with sparkling eyes, one hand still rubbing her flaming behind, but the other now slipping down against her raven furred crotch and beginning to tickle the slightly moistening lips of her no longer virgin pussy.
It was just as well that lovely Sheila and virile Brad were greatly engrossed in their own erotic reactions to the parental spankings they had just dealt out so effectively, or the trio of Lesbian-attuned Lolitas might well have had to endure another and even more trying session with the hairbrush and the chastising palm. But Brad had discovered the magic of spanking, as had his beautiful mature wife, and at this very moment, in another bedroom in the bungalow, he was busy draping her across his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed and giving her a playful spanking just to remind her of how they had first found love together when he had punished her for her mistake in the bookkeeping ledger at his office... a mistake which undoubtedly she had done on purpose just to attract not only his ire but also his prick.
Sheila kicked and squealed most convincingly, but inwardly she was burning with passion, and so they had seconds locked in each other's arms and rolling back and forth on the bed, oblivious to all else.
Nancy's tongue entered between Margaret's lips, and Margaret responded just as Della had taught her to. And now both half-nude beauties, approaching their climax, for a hot spanking on the bare bottom invariably makes a girl's pussy warm as well and puts her in the ideal mood for fucking, whether with a male or female, sank down to the floor with Nancy atop Margaret, tightly entwined, their tongues merging as Margaret squirmed and wriggled furiously to meet Nancy's impassioned pussy-grindings. And then suddenly both girls sobbed aloud in their delight, and hugged and kissed each other frantically as their bodies jerked in the throes of hot girlish come... while beyond them, leaning forward to watch, her finger thrusting back and forth inside her cunny, Betty achieved her own self-administered relief.
And thus it was that the accident of Margaret's very first spanking by her own father broke down her barrier between herself and her two younger step-sisters, and paved the way towards converting the trio of lovely young nymphs into a happy harem for virile Brad Parks!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Thus the experiment began, and was to continue until the beginning of school and probably until the first of October when Brad would be able to get the larger apartment in his own building. Margaret, Nancy and Betty remained in the North Side bungalow which Sheila had occupied before her marriage, while the voluptuous dark-brownhaired matron enjoyed the privacy of a continuing honeymoon with her adoring husband in Hyde Park. She enjoyed coming down to the office and putting in a full day, and now that she was fully matured and without inhibition in passion, Sheila discovered the additional thrill of demurely conducting herself like a regular employee during the day and hugging to herself the secret knowledge that the man who bossed her around and gave her dictation would, in the evening, dictate the behavior of her lovely naked body to their mutual pleasure.
On the following Friday night, just a week after Margaret's first spanking, Sheila and Brad took a cab over to the bungalow with a load of groceries for the girls. All three pitched in to help fix dinner, and Brad was astounded at the change in Margaret. She seemed to be getting along wonderfully well with her step-sisters, and when they were washing dishes out in the kitchen, he came in to have another cup of coffee and observed that Margaret was kissing Betty as the latter handed her the dish towel, while Nancy neatly and swiftly piled the dirty dishes in the sink and turned on the water and got the sponge and soap.
"Now that's the way I want to see my girls," he said jovially. Margaret recoiled, her lovely face turning scarlet. She wondered whether he had drawn any conclusions from that kiss, because the actual fact of the matter was that she and Betty had just made secret pact to girlfuck that very night after their parents went back to their Hyde Park apartment.
"We get along fine, Daddy," Nancy brightly spoke up to save what otherwise might have been an embarrassing situation, for her sister was somewhat embarrassed and blushing too. "Gee, this is lots more fun than summer camp!"
Betty gave her a warning look as if to intimate that it was better to keep her mouth shut. Because if the girls were too happy, their parents might just suspect that love had replaced hate and that grinding pussies together and rubbing tongues together had replaced spiteful words.
"Well, that's fine, your mother and I are really happy about this. Keep it up, Margaret, and maybe I'll buy you a new car when you enroll in Northwestern this fall," Brad said as he went over to his daughter and kissed her on the cheek...
Back in their apartment, Brad and Sheila were getting ready for bed. Sheila had brought herself the day before a perfectly mouthwatering black nylon nightie, the shortie variety which ended about two inches above her shapely dimpled knees. He was lounging in bed naked, smoking a cigarette feeling like a sultan awaiting the arrival of his new favorite, while she was in the bathroom applying the perfume stopper to her armpits, her pussy, her belly button, and the backs of her knees and neck, these being the places which Brad loved to lick and kiss. When she finally came out, he uttered a long low whistle of lustful admiration and crushed out his cigarette. "Come to your master, slave!" he said hoarsely.
"Your humble slave hears and obeys, my lord," Sheila giggled, and then walked in, the very picture of a slave girl, hands clasped together in front of her, head bowed meekly, so that he could study the luscious thrust of her titties and the full sweep of her thighs against the clinging black nylon. His prick rose in fierce tribute to what she showed and what she was going to show him before the night was done.
"You can start by paying homage to your master, then, Sheila baby," he commanded.
Sheila Parks blushed deliciously as she approached the bed, and then, bending over and placing her palms beside him, bowed her head to his upstanding organ and nibbled the tip with her soft moist red lips while Brad closed his eyes and flexed his muscles, groaning in the sheer ecstasy of this prelude to prick-fulfillment.
"Pull up that nightie so that can see your pussy, slave," he ordered now, revelling in the thrill of this playacting, and Sheila, still keeping her lips clamped over the tip of his aching prick, reached down with her hands and lofted the nylon sheath and showed him the tawny-smooth rounded curves of her quivering thighs and belly and the dark thick fleece of cunthair framing her already moistening and twitching slit.
Now her tongue furled down the shaft to his scrotum and back, and he groaned in sweet torment, till the waves of lust would endure no more. "I feel languid tonight, slave," he told her. "Get astride me and do the work, and mind you work me off properly, or it means a good sound spanking for a naughty slavegirl!"
"I'll do my best, dear master," Sheila huskily murmured as she clambered into bed, keeping her nightie rolled up now under her armpits and kneeling astride him as he closed his legs tightly to let his prick stand up in all its vibrant fury. Slyly, wriggling this way and that, she grazed the sensitive tip with the rims of her cunt and let him feel the delicious friction which her curly silky cunt ringlets proffered against his rigid member. Then, finally, deftly, she managed to insert his meatus just inside her quimlips, and sank slowly down, closing her eyes and shivering at the thrilling sensation as his stiff broad shaft probed and distended the sheath of her eager cunthole.
Now she began to rise quickly and to sink till his organ was buried in her to the balls, waiting a moment so that he could feel the feverish clasp of her cuntwalls; then she rose up again, taking care not to let the prick slip out. And it didn't take long before Brad Parks felt himself sucked dry of every drop of juice in his balls, although, just to show Sheila he was master, he ordered her to lie over his lap for a playful little spanking after which he rolled her onto her back, fully hard again, and fucked her lingeringly until they both expired blissfully...
But on Saturday afternoon, Sheila gaily proposed to her happily domesticated husband -- who had already begun to wonder why he hadn't found a girl like Sheila in the first place and prevented so many long years of annoyance with his snippy ex-wife-that she surprised the girls, brought them a cake from one of the best bakeries in the city, and also look over their housekeeping and make certain that everything was running smoothly. Brad, who had suddenly had a call from Boston from one of his clients who wanted a brochure done by the end of the next week, begged off going, because he was busy drafting the copy for the piece.
He had bought Sheila a Rambler, for his old car had been showing signs of wear and he could see that Sheila would have greater use of the car around the city doing errands for the family. Accordingly, she drove off at about two Saturday afternoon, little suspecting what she would find when she opened the door to the bungalow.
The little menage of the three girls had become a Lesbian lovenest there on the other side of town. And just as Sheila Parks opened the door to the living room, Betty and Margaret were upstairs in Betty's bedroom, while Nancy was at the moment in the kitchen preparing some cold drinks to take up for the three of them. The charming fourteen-year-old girl was wearing only her bra and panties and sandals, and when she suddenly came out of the kitchen into the living room and saw her mother unexpectedly standing there, she gulped, and very nearly dropped the tray, while her face turned a fiery red.
"Why, honey, whatever are you doing?"
"I--I was taking some cold drinks upstairs to Betty and Margaret, Mom."
"Yes, I can see that. But why are you going around in your scanties like that? I know it's warm, but you've got air conditioning here in the bungalow."
"Well, we slept sort of late and we dawdled around and we didn't feel like dressing," Nancy lamely explained.
"I don't exactly like that, honey. Suppose a special delivery messenger or the gas man or somebody came by here and you answered thy door like that? What in the world would he think of your mother and father? Now you go right upstairs and put a dress or a playsuit or something on. I'll just go right up and say hello to Margaret. Her father sends his love."
"I--please, I--I think they're taking a nap," Nancy babbled, getting redder and redder in the face.
Sheila Parks stared at her younger daughter, and a seventh sense told her that something was really amiss. Without a word, she turned and went up the stairs and Nancy groaned, closed her eyes, and said to herself, "Oh for my gosh sakes!" There wasn't any way she could warn Betty and Margaret what was going to happen, not without yelling and giving away the whole kettle of fish. Sheila unsuspectingly walked along the corridor to the bedroom door, which she found closed, knocked, turned the knob and then entered. Then she uttered a horrified gasp!
Betty and Margaret were stark naked, and they were doing sixty-nine. Betty was on top, her face buried between Margaret's quivering carnation-satiny thighs, while Margaret, her hands clutching Betty's round firm olive-sheened naked asscheeks, was busy sucking her step-sister's black furred snatch.
At the sound of Sheila's gasp, Betty turned her head and then uttered a shriek: "Mother! Oh my gosh, Margaret, it's Mother."
"Yes, it's Mother," Sheila repeated grimly, "and I don't want to hear any explanations. I can see exactly what you two have been up to while we've let you keep house here. And I suppose Nancy is in on all this nastiness too. Get out of bed and stand here before me, both of you! I'm ashamed of you two. Margaret, wait until your father hears of this!"
"Oh please, Mother, don't tell him, please don't! I'd just die if you did! I--I'll take any punishment you want to give me, but please, Mother, don't tell Daddy!" Margaret groaned, bursting into tears and clasping her hands frantically in prayer.
"I'm afraid this is much too serious for just me to handle, young lady. And as for you, Betty, you're going to get the whipping of your life. I'm going to call Nancy and have her get my hairbrush. You two just stay right here."
She went to the door and called downstairs for Nancy, whose heart was already in her mouth, and who turned pale when she heard the order to get the hairbrush from her mother's bedroom. Very slowly she came up the stairs and handed it to Sheila Parks, who ordered her to close the door, and then to sit down in the chair and wait her turn.
"But Mother, I didn't do anything," Nancy began to sob.
"You knew about all this, and I wouldn't put it past you to just be precocious enough to try it for yourself, young lady," Sheila snapped, being far more right than she could know. "All right, Betty, over my lap this minute. And don't try begging off, because you're going to get spanked until my arm gets tired.
Betty was already crying, her head bowed and rubbing her eyes with her knuckles as she hesitantly and most reluctantly approached her mother in a straight-backed chair. Sheila seized her by the elbow, flung her across her lap, clamped her right leg over Betty's bare calves, tucked in the girl's waist with her left arm, raised the hairbrush and began to spank.
The crisp smacks of the hairbrush were rapid, alternating on both cheeks, and it didn't take long for Betty to wail and try to wriggle away, hysterically begging for mercy, swearing she would never do such a naughty thing again, while tears ran profusely down her cheeks.
It availed her nothing. Sheila didn't stop until she had given Betty at least sixty good swats with the hairbrush, and Betty's lovely olive-skinned behind was swollen and a dark-ominous red when Sheila finally pushed her daughter off her lap and commanded, "Now it's your turn, Margaret!"
But Margaret had gone down on her knees, and clasping out her folded hands, tearfully entreated mercy, saying she would do anything if Sheila would only spank her in private and not tell her father, that she would even take a double spanking.
"I'll think about it. Meanwhile, Nancy, get over here and take your position and take your panties down and get over my lap," was Sheila's order.
The charming young redhead began Jo weep as she slowly tugged her panties down to her knees, hobbled over to her mother and was swiftly flung down across Sheila's lap. The hairbrush came into play, and while it wasn't quite so hard a spanking as Betty got, nonetheless, poor Nancy was wailing and kicking frantically and trying to throw herself off her mother's lap long before it was finished.
Then the two girls were told to go into Nancy's room, "And if when I come in there I find you two are up to your nasty tricks, your father will give you an extra hard spanking tonight!" Sheila warned.
Along with Margaret, she now stared down at the beautiful naked brownhaired older girl, and said severely, "what in the world ever made you try to corrupt my girls? I want the truth, Margaret. I want you to be very honest with me, because if you aren't, then your father will certainly hear of this and you can imagine what he'll do to you."
Margaret began to cry. And then she broke down and told Sheila how unhappy she had been all these last months while the rift between her father and mother had been going on and how she had found affection at the Eastern School in the arms (and via the tongue and lips as well) of a certain girl named Della Loomis. "So you see, Mother," she snifflingly concluded, "I've been so lonely and unhappy, and I don't like boys, and I guess, well, Betty and Nancy didn't like me from the start, and I guess I deserved it--and then something happened and, well, I just wanted to make it up to them, and this is what happened. But honest, there haven't been any boys!"
"I should hope not!" Sheila Parks said fervently. "Because if you keep on doing something like this all the time, Margaret, you won't ever want a boy, and you'll miss all the joys of marriage. Take it from me, I know what they can be. Well, young lady, I still haven't decided whether or not to tell your father. But in the meantime, I'm going to give you a good hard spanking. Maybe it will do you some good. Now get over my lap!"
Margaret began to sob but nonetheless bravely rose and steered herself over to Sheila's lap and draped herself across it. She was so docile that Sheila was moved to certain compassion... and also, unbeknownst to herself, a certain lascivious admiration for Margaret's voluptuous ripe maturing young body. Once she had touched the girl across her lap in the position she wanted, her right leg clamped over Margaret's slim calves, she ordered Margaret to put her hands behind her back, and then took hold of them with her left hand. Then she began to spank, but very slowly, with about twenty second intervals, alternating on both cheeks and watching the carnation pink and white skin turn a bright pink and then fiery red.
Margaret sobbed and groaned, trying very hard to be brave, but after about the twenty fifth hard spank which bridged the shadowy crease between her asscheeks, she broke down and begged for mercy and swore she would be a good girl from now on.
The spanking went on to fifty. Then, as Sheila laid down the hairbrush and told Margaret she could get up, Margaret, emotionally aroused, did so and flung her arms around her step-mother's neck and kissed her passionately on the mouth.
Sheila began to shiver. Her hands brushed Margaret's titties, and she was undone.
"My poor darling," she crooned, "I'm so sorry I had to spank your lovely bummy. But you know yourself, it was a shocking thing you did - poor little girl, so lonely and trying so hard and so wrong to make friends!"
She rose now, and Margaret clung to her, pressing her belly and cunt in Sheila's loins. Their lips met, and suddenly Margaret's tongue darted between her step-mother's lips.
"Don't, darling-you mustn't-oh Margaret, you're so lovely-did I hurt you too much, dearest?" Sheila suddenly moaned, as her hands began to caress and stroke the fiery-red naked asscheeks of her beautiful step-daughter.
"It-it doesn't matter now, Mother-gee, I--I love you so much--I just want to be your good girl and I want you and Daddy to love me," Margaret sobbed.
They moved towards the bed as if spellbound. And soon Sheila found herself on the bed, while Margaret was pulling up her skirt and slip, tugging down her panties, and despite Sheila's protestations which grew weaker by the minute, suddenly embraced her, rubbing her cunt against Shelia's furry snatch.
As their lips met, their tongues slithered together, and each began to caress the other feverishly with searching fingers, while they began to grind their pussies together in the unmistakable rhythm of girlfucking.
And thus Margaret was prepared to be her own father's love-slave!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Just a week after Sheila had spanked Margaret and then consoled her girl-fashion, Brad visited the bungalow to help Nancy and Betty prepare dinner and then take them to a movie. His beautiful wife had volunteered to take Margaret out to dinner at Morton's and then to the Hyde Park Theater to see a sensational new Italian movie. Brad was pleasantly surprised at the way Margaret was beginning to get along not only with her stepsisters but also her new mother.
But they never got to that movie. Because after dinner, when Betty and Nancy were busy doing the dishes with Brad standing alongside to help, Nancy fumbled a dish Betty passed to her and dropped it, smashing it to smithereens.
"Just see what you've done, clumsy!" Nancy indignantly cried out.
"It was your fault not mine, Nancy, and you know it," Betty as indignantly countered.
"You liar!" Nancy squealed and slapped her sister's face. And before Brad could intervene, Betty fell on the coppery haired younger girl and the two began to pull hair and wrestle.
"Now cut that out, you two--I said, stop it!" Brad growled, then forcibly separated the two panting, disheveled beauties. "All right, you've asked for it and you're going to get it. No movie, just for that. Now come along, both of you!"
He led them to Betty's bedroom, then commanded, "Nancy over my lap, and Betty, hold your sister's hands tight!"
"No way you're going to talk me out of it, young lady!" he retorted, pulling the sniffling Nancy down over his lap and tucking her waist in with his left arm.
"Please--oh Daddy, if--if you have to s--spank me, please don't let Betty watch," Nancy sobbed, looking back at him.
He relented a little; after all, girls had a right to their own modesty. "All right," he grudgingly agreed. "Betty, go into the next room and wait till I come to you."
"Oh, th-thanks, Daddy," Nancy fervently sighed, closing her eyes and abandoning her svelte young body. When the door closed behind Betty, Brad rolled up Nancy's skirt and petticoat, then whisked down her panties to her calves, locked his right leg over them, and began to spank her deliciously saucy bare bottom with the flat of his right hand. It wasn't long before the coppery haired girl was wriggling and begging off.
When it was over Nancy slowly got up, rubbing her bottom, and then unexpectedly flung her arms round Brad's neck and gave him a passionate kiss on the mouth. He shuddered, his -prick hardening with desire as he felt her tongue snake between his lips. He gripped her bare spanking-warmed bottom as he rose, felt her cunt grind against his crotch.
"All right, baby, it's over," he said thickly, exerting his utmost self-control to push her away. Now you stay here and cry it out till I finish with Betty. Maybe I'll take you to the movie after all, but I won't ever want to catch you two quarreling like that again. Now pull your panties up, that's a good girl."
He closed the door behind him, just as Nancy, still sniffling, flung herself down on her tummy on the bed. Then he went into the room next door, sat down on the bed and beckoned Betty to get over his lap. Slowly, she pulled up her skirt and slip and got over his lap, arching up her hips to let him snug down her white nylon panties. He unhooked her garterbelt tabs and tucked them under the belt itself, tucked her waist in, and then began to spank. Betty groaned and sobbed, then after about twenty, rushed her hands back to her flaming bare behind." Oh please no more, Daddy," she wailed.
He gripped her wrists with his left hand, shoved them away from her squirming naked seat, and gave her two hard smacks that drew pleas and tears from her."
"Going to be good from now on?" he demanded hoarsely.
"Oh yes, Daddy, oh I will, oh do please stop!" she wailed.
He let her up and then suddenly, Betty flung her arms round his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. Taken by surprise, he sank backwards, and Betty crawled atop him, maintaining the passionate kiss. His hands grabbed her bottom, began to squeeze the succulent warm cheeks, and Betty's tongue probed deep between his lips. Before he what she was doing, she had slipped her hand down between their bodies, found the zipper of his fly and yanked it down, then grabbed his rigid prick.
"Betty--what--for God's sake--Betty--you sweet little bitch-oh Betty!" he groaned.
"Ohh Daddy, let me--I know what to do--l love you so much, Daddy--please!" she panted, wriggling herself over him and then, adjusting his cocktip to the moist lips of her quim, inserted him within the lobby of her warm tight young cunthole.
"Betty-no-it! wrong-Betty baby-oh you lovely little teaser--hey-you're not a virgin-" he gasped, as he felt her sink down over him and absorb all his ramrod.
"Uh uh--I--I let Bill Foster do me just before you married Mom, Daddy, "she confessed, blushing to her hair roots.
"What? You ought to be spanked raw." he gasped.
"Uh huh I know... only, Daddy, do it after you've loved me up, hm? Ohh Daddy, it's so good, you're so big and hard, even better than Bill-OHHHHH DADDY!" Betty sighed ecstatically as she felt him begin to shove his prick up to meet her downward wrigglings.
His hands manipulated her squirming naked reddened bottomcheeks as, his tongue probing her mouth now, Brad Parks forgot all about the taboo of incest and began to fuck his lovely raven-haired stepdaughter.
And when it was over, she whispered, "Daddy honey, please forgive Nancy and let her love you too, she's nuts about you, hm, Daddy?"
"Go get her," he breathed.
A few minutes later Nancy, eyes shining with delight, naked save for stockings and garterbelt, was astride her father's lap, riding up and down awhile Betty, kneeling beside her, fondled her bottom and titties, and Brad tasted the joys of the harem.
When it was over, Betty whispered, "Want to know something Daddy darling? Mommy and Margaret are having fun tonight all by themselves. Don't you think we ought to spank then and then love them up good for that?"
"I do indeed. Maybe tomorrow night," he promised. And thus the harem was complete!
