“Very well, dear,” the naked red-haired woman finally agreed, all hesitation gone on her part. The blonde youngster was a huge slut, as she'd said, exactly like she herself and her young niece had always been. “Here comes a fuck you'll remember the rest of your life.”
And she slowly pushed the large back dildo into the little girl's slippery cunt.
Mrs. Rimfield, after all, was many things to many people, but being in full control of her own sexual urges was not one of them.
Scout's Honor
Even though she was a perfectly capable 28-year-old woman, Honor Blakely greatly appreciated the small group of young boys in the neighborhood who so eagerly wanted to help with any chores around her house or yard.
She was a sleek and extremely pretty brunette, trim in all the right places, fully rounded in others, and she'd first thought her good looks might've had something to do with it. With their offer of assistance. Throughout her life, men or boys had always offered to help her, in many ways, and she was more than used to it.
“The garage could use a good cleaning,” she suggested that bright Saturday morning, leading the five well-groomed youngsters in through the side door. “Let's get some light in here.”
She hit the button for the double-wide garage door, all of them watching as it moved up on its track. She'd earlier left her car, a Buick SUV, outside in the wide driveway, anticipating their arrival that morning.
“Here you go, boys. I want to thank you again-”
“That's not necessary,” the oldest boy, a handsome 12-year-old named Del, said with a big smile. “We're glad to help.”
The other four boys, smiling and nodding as well, all seemed about nine or ten years old. They were a good-looking lot, she couldn't help thinking, all in brand name jeans and tee-shirts. They also all wore expensive tennis shoes without socks.
She thought preppy was the word that best described them. At least, that's what they called it in her day, not all that long ago, she liked to think. Yet she wasn't sure if anyone even still used that term these days.
“Really, Mrs. Blakely, it's our duty,” Del added.
They belonged to the Helper Scouts, they'd told her two weeks earlier, a Good-Samaritan-type group for young boys whose assistance in the neighborhood (especially for the elderly or the infirm) had apparently proven invaluable.
Honor had already heard stories of the good they were doing.
And the pay they required was strictly a mere token, a single dollar and a treat (a brownie, cookies or a healthy snack was suggested) for each boy. This was for as much assistance as any neighbor, elderly or otherwise, might require.
“Okay,” she said to Del. “But please call me Honor. Like I mentioned before, I'm no longer married…”
She'd recently gone through a terrible divorce, and was without children, so being on her own in such a large house had become a real burden. She'd lately been considering just putting it on the market and moving into a condo or an apartment, anything smaller, until she got her life back in order.
But with the sudden and unexpected arrival of the Helper Scouts, she'd been lately rethinking the entire idea of moving. It really was a great suburban neighborhood, after all. And she'd miss it a lot.
“I'm sorry it's such a mess in here,” Honor told the boys, looking around. “But with me working full time during the week, I'm afraid I've let a few things go. This is one of them.”
They were standing in her attached two-and-a-half car garage, the built-in shelves along the far walls nearly empty because much of what belonged up there was down on the gray cement floor. There were half-full paint cans, tools, old boxes of appliances and electrical parts, and even an ancient-looking IBM typewriter, all of it seemingly abandoned.
The young boys all looked to her.
“No problem…Honor,” the boy named Del said. “This shouldn't take too long.”
She gave him a quick smile.
“Just come into the kitchen when you're done,” she told him, then looked to all of them. “For your treat.”
“Sure.”
And into the kitchen she went.
Honor took the $5 to pay them out of her purse and set it on the counter. Then she smiled, heading into the master bedroom, knowing exactly the treat she was going to give them.
Less than fifteen minutes later, the chore of returning the various items to the built-in shelves a particularly simple one, Del and the four other young boys pushed open the door to the kitchen and trooped on in.
“That was awfully quick,” Honor smiled. “I hope you'll take more time than that in here with me.”
She was wearing black crotchless panties and a black half-bra, the push-up kind that directly presented her large firm breasts to whoever was looking at them, while allowing both of her dark pink nipples (poking out stiffly!) to be clearly seen.
Other than that, she was naked.
All five young boys eagerly took in the sights:
Honor's slender long legs, her perfectly flat tummy, her firmly rounded buttocks and the gentle bulge of her pubic mound, so smoothly waxed that the wetly gaping slit of her cunt (easily seen within the black lacy opening of the crotchless panties) was all the more lusciously prominent.
And inviting.
“There's your $5 on the counter,” she told them. “And you're all staring directly at your treat, I see.”
Yes, they were, she noted with satisfaction.
Del and the four younger boys could not look away from her slickened pussy, in fact, once their eyes dropped down to it from her semi-bare breasts. And the sight of it, her wonderful grown-up cunt, displayed as such in her obscene little show-off panties, instantly gave each youngster a growing bulge in the front of his jeans.
“Your pussy's the best treat of all,” Del told her, with a genuine smile. This wasn't their first time together, after all. “Mrs. Raffelson's peanut butter cookies aren't bad, but you've got her beat all out.”
“So my cunt's even better?” she wanted to hear it said. “Better than peanut butter cookies?”
“In every way,” young Will threw in, a skinny 10-year-old. He already was holding himself through his jeans, squeezing himself, really, clearly anticipating what was coming next. “Even though I love cookies.”
Honor gave the slender boy a bemused look.
“Cookies are nice,” she allowed, motioning for all four of them to follow her into the first floor master bedroom. “But for young boys like yourselves, I believe pussy will always be better.”
“Yes!” a tall 10-year-old named Tom punched the air with a delighted laugh. “I knew this would be a great day.”
And as all the boys trailed into the master bedroom behind her, they began kicking off their shoes and pulling off their clothes. They'd been to Honor's home before, in her bedroom, even, helping her, as it were, and understood exactly what was required.
“Mrs. Edmonds baked us a cake,” one of the two youngest boys, 9-year-old Frank, informed her. “That was good, too.”
“Cake's always nice,” Honor nodded. “But it's still not pussy.”
She just wanted to make certain the boys all understood how truly special her treat for them was, how personal, even, her treat one that could be remembered and appreciated for many years to come.
When she reached her huge bed, she turned around to face them and discovered they were all five entirely naked, a haphazard line of tee-shirts, jeans, tennis shoes and underwear strewn on the floor behind them.
“That's true,” the other youngest boy, Taylor, a healthy-looking 3rd-grader, nodded as he agreed with her that it wasn't pussy. “But it was a great cake.”
His young cock was standing straight up, Honor saw, the swollen tip of it so smoothly swollen that she swallowed at the sight of it. She had a sudden urge to simply drop to her knees and suck it into her mouth.