Her Secret Sex Life (18 page)

But for the moment, at least, she was being most flatteringly besieged and certainly most pleasurably documented on his adoration of her naked flesh: she could feel his swollen, nearly bursting cock ruthlessly distend the narrow, sensitive volutes of her vaginal chasm in a way that left no doubt as to his intoxicated worship of her yearning cunt. His lean fingers were squeezing. the sides of her panting round tits, then reaching under her to goad her velvety-smooth, quivering, round buttocks to becoming squirmingly agitated hillocks of eager, palpitating flesh. His lips had taken hold of one of her nipples, flinting it with tingling sensations, and she felt the rubbing of his belly to hers as sensation piled upon sensation in them both. The deepest reservoir of her emotions now threatened to give way before the battering ram of his frenzied young cock.

"Ahh-Timmy-oooh-pl-please-darling-slow down and let little D-Dinah catch up, sweetheart-ohho, ahh, d-darling, it's so good, but-but take it e-easy!" she panted, scrabbing her fingernails into his back and shoulders. Her knees flung up on either side of him, swung hugely apart; then, as he again dug to the roots inside her cunt, she moaned and locked her naked thighs over his buttocks while she arched herself up with all her strength-only to utter a frantic cry of disappointment and loss as she suddenly felt him explode hot gismic lava deep into her womb.

He was gasping for breath, his flushed face burrowed Into the valley of her heaving tits, his hands gripping her perspiring satiny sides Just above her writhing hips, sprawled and spent, as golden-haired Dinah Williams let her thighs grow lax over him, tilted back her anguished face and closed her eyes, fighting to regain her breath. He had brought her to the brink of hot bubbling come, only to leave her there so languishingly that she very nearly wanted to burst into tears. Then, after a long moment, fighting back the turbulent waves that still furiously churned within her, she huskily whispered, "Tim sweetheart, it was heavenly-only, next time, I'm going to show you how much more fun we can both have if you let me help. Now get off Mamma, darling, and let's go tidy up, have some more Pepsi and a cigarette, and then I'll show you Just what I mean.

He raised his haggard face to stare at her, almost in tears of gratitude himself for the glorious flesh-bounty she had accorded. "Jeez, you-oh, Dinah," he gasped, still aware of the convulsive tightening of her vagina against his limpened cock which remained in her exquisite cunt-captivity…

What happened after that was a dream of lustful fantasy which young Tim Woodling would remember all the rest of his life. Dinah had led him to the shower, and they had both soaped and sponged each other. Under her bantering and playful aegis, he had abandoned the last vestiges of shame-faced embarrassment. Her soft little hand, covered with soapy lather, had fondled and squeezed and played with his cock till he felt it stiffen into renewed and full erection- but without the first overwhelming urge that had betrayed him when he had felt himself penetrate into(the tight warm socket of Dinah's torrid cunt. And in turn, he had been led to soap her vulva and to play with the fascinating little nodule of her cit till she wriggled and squealed, then hugged him and kissed him as the warm spray laved their shuddering bodies and titillated all their senses into a new anticipation of a more languorous yet perhaps more thrilling fulfillment.

They had toweled each other, and she had taken him back to the couch. For a few moments, sharing a glass of Pepsi and a cigarette, they had chatted, Dinah cleverly leading him on to admit some of his lustful preferences, and had purposely stimulated him by injecting the most lubricious terms into this calculated discussion. Finally, she had huskily intimated, "Now this time, you're to make it last as long as you can. All it takes is practice. You lie down now and let me get better acquainted with this big sweet hard lollypop of yours, lover."

Excitedly, he had rolled onto his back while Dinah crouched over him, letting him feast his eyes on the jiggling globes of her round pink-sheened tits, the tantalizingly fluffy muff of her pubis which let the pink fleshy lips of her cunt peep through in slyly beckoning invitation. Then she began to glide the tip of her tongue over his wiry young body, starting at the neck, lingering over his paps till he exclaimed at the tingling new sensations of that exquisite nuance of foreplay. Working gradually down his body, she halted her ministrations just as she reached his upright, throbbing cock. Then, agilely turning onto her side, she grasped his hands and drew them to her breasts, whispering, "Now feel me up, all of me, nice and blow and easy. That drives a girl wild, Tim. When you have your next girl-and my goodness, it won't be long, not when they find out how terrific you are in bed-you'll see what she'll do for you when she finds Out how you can drive her up the wall. Don't ever hurry, you'll both lose too much. Now love me!"

He began to stroke her tits and belly, blushing as he saw her eyes follow the movements of his hand. When he hesitated, she nodded, and, emboldened by this, he brushed his fingertips over the soft lips of her pink cunt.

"Mmm, that's the way, sweetheart!" Dinah huskily encouraged, squirming closer to him. "Every girl just loves having her little pussy tickled. But see if you can find my secret spot-ooooh, yes, yes, Tim lover, that's it, you've hit the button-don't you feel me wriggle when you ring my little puss/s doorbell that way? That means a girl is just dying to be fucked-ob yes, yes, move It around-ooohh, higher, honey- ahh-oh, Timmy, now, now, get on top of me and shove that great big hard wicked cock of yours all the way out through my naughty bumhole, ohhhb darling, that's sooooo good-take it slow and easy, I'm not going to run away, not from a man with a wonderful cock like yours-ohhhhhh, Tim!"

Keeping his left forefinger pressed against her throbbing clitoris, his right hand squeezing one of her heaving warm round fits, his mouth fused to hers and his tongue rapiering fiercely Inside her eagerly responsive mouth, young Tim Woodling began to thrust himself slowly to the hilt, then retreat to the very edges of her quaking vulva, holding himself with a studied effort before at last forcing himself back down into the contracting, warm tightness of Dinah Williams's seething cunt.

Lithe and feline, the naked golden-haired young woman had made him maneuver so that both lay on their sides facing each other; now, with a gasp of delight, she lifted her right leg and clamped It over his hip to pinion him to her cunt's exacting socket, while her tongue rampantly probed inside his gasping mouth to find and friction his own. And this time, the blond adolescent learned the indescribable bliss of prolongation, of exacerbating the senses of touch and smell and sight till it seemed impossible to endure the Tantalus any longer, only to halt and regroup, feeling the hot thick blood throbbing in every vein, till at last, her fingers pinching and squeezing him and at last hilting a forefinger into his tight young anus, Dinah Williams signaled to him that her time had come for unleashed and abandoned rut-fulfillment…

It was well after midnight when Tim Woodling, turning the key very slowly in the lock of the old house on Astor Street, let himself in, his eyes starry, his -lips wreathed in a reminiscent, triumphant smile. And when he flung himself down naked on his bed, he was at once plunged into a deep and dreamless sleep, for even the wildest of his dreams had been turned into gratifying flesh-reality by the insatiable naked golden-haired young goddess who had been his glorious Circe and turned him-unlike the mythological siren-not into swine but into very much a man.

This very warm Friday night in late June was, Rachel Woodling wryly remembered, a very special kind of anniversary, and one which her husband could not have been-and would never be-expected to remember. For it marked the final day of the month-long compact she had made with Heather and young Tim. And now, as she prepared supper for the three of them (for Timothy Woodling, having finished his final trip to the New York firm and received enthusiastic approval for a series of future campaigns, was expected back about ten tonight), she had not the slightest regret over having made it on their vindictive terms.

There was chicken salad and the iced tea she had made-with plenty of lemon slices, and baked hot biscuits with honey and butter set out on the table. And there would be a home-made banana split for dessert.

"There we are," she said as she set the tray down and began to serve Heather and young Tim. "It's really too hot for a roast or anything like that, and I hope you'll have enough to eat."

"It looks just fine, Mother," Heather smiled up at her, and, with a thoroughly feminine gesture she never would have affected a month or more ago, put a hand back to her hair to straighten a wayward curl.

"So you've definitely set a date with Arnold, dear?" Rachel seated herself at the table and began to break open a biscuit and generously butter it.

"Uh huh. The fifteenth. He wants a big church wedding-me, I'd rather settle on City Hall. Yummy, this salad really is super, Mother!" Heather enthused.

"Well, dear, I wouldn't dream of advising you, it's your decision. Only, if I were a girl your age getting married for the first time, I'd want all the trimmings, just so I could remember all the romance about it for the rest of my life," Rachel tactfully volunteered.

"That's what Arnold keeps saying. Oh well, I might just break down and give in. He's sort of a nice guy, you know. And hey-thanks for bringing us together." Heather lowered her eyes demurely and her creamy cheeks grew red.

"Thank you, darling," Rachel smilingly corrected.

For a moment, Heather was busy with her salad. Then, putting down her fork, she glared at the blond boy across the table. ~"Hey, little brother, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh-gee, yeah-" now it was Tim's turn to color hotly and then to look down and fumble with something in his lap. "Mom, I-I want to give you something."

"What is it, Tim dear?"

"Here. You know." He held out a round metal canister towards Rachel. "That movie we took-you know-you can burn it or cut it up and put it in the garbage.”

"Oh?" her eyebrows arched as she casually added, "But I thought you wanted to keep it."

"Of course the little monster's not going to keep it," Heather interrupted in a patronizingly mature tone of voice. "We both-well, what Timmy's trying to tell you, Is just that you've made Daddy happier than we've seen him ever since Mom-our real mother- died-and I guess we were off base trying to make life hell for you. So I'm apologizing for us both right now, if it's okay."

"We'll just forget all about it," Rachel Woodling softly replied. "I know very well how much you both loved your mother, and I -didn't come here with any intention of making either of you give up any part of that love. Fact is, I think It proved what a really wonderful wife and mother she must have been to have made you both so loyal to her. I only hope some day someone will say the same nice things about me.

"Nobody better say you aren't okay while I'm around to hear it," young Tim suddenly fiercely interposed, then again colored self-consciously.

"Hear, hear," Heather giggled. Then, squirming in her chair, she drawled, "You know, I once called you a strictly amateur headshrink. Only now, well, seems to me you're a lot better than the pros. I certainly couldn't have found a terrific guy like Arnold on my own. And I can see why Timmy here isn't bothering about his collection of dirty books and movies, now that he's been fixed up right and proper.

"Aw, dry up, for criyi, Sis," Tim pleadingly groaned.

But Heather maliciously persisted: "Only trouble is, now what are you going to do when your heartthrob's going to get married-that's right, isn't it, Mother?"

"Quite right, dear," Rachel smilingly put in. "Dinah told me just this morning she and Mr. Gregory are going to be married in two weeks and then spend their honeymoon in Hawaii, where your father and I had ours."

"Mom, I've sort of been thinking," the blond adolescent hesitantly interposed.

"Now there's a switch!" came from Heather.

"Aw, cut it out, Sis-hey, Mom, tell her I've got the floor… look, I figured maybe this fall I could transfer to Senn High. I've sort'a fed up with Chicago Latin anyway. And-well, there's lots of cute girls over at Senn, and I'd have lots more chances to date than where I am now. What do you think, Mom?"

"I think a public school would be a very worthwhile experience for you, Tim dear. Now what about that banana split? I've got maraschino cherries and some whipped cream, and it won't take a minute to put some pecans through the grinder."

Rachel had gone to her room to change into a Chinese blue silk cheong-san, slashed high along her left thigh to show a daring glimpse of the darker top of her smoke-hued nylon stocking, and donned a new pair of elegant black leather pumps with three-inch spike heels. Timothy Woodling's plane had been delayed by mechanical trouble, and he hadn't got home till quarter past eleven, by which time Heather and young Tim had retired to their rooms And, learning that he hadn't had much of a meal aboard the plane because the heating system had broken down so that the food containers had turned cold, she had insisted on preparing scrambled eggs with mushrooms and some whole wheat toast and coffee for the handsome gray-haired advertising executive.

He had insisted on helping her with the few dishes and followed her into the kitchen. "I'm happy to say that this is the last trip to New York for a long while, if I have anything to do with it, honey;" he declared.

This time, I brought along Max Colby, and they like him well enough to let him rep us for the agency out there. Which means I'll have more time for you.

Slyly, he reached over to untie the apron strings so that the lace-trimmed apron fluttered to the floor. "Hey, honey, I like this Chinese thing you've got on. I can sneak my hand up-" he suited action to word, gliding his right palm along the slit of the glossy blue garment till it disappeared along the welt of her nylon stocking.