"Then the chauffeur starts to unbutton her blouse. She wears a large brassiere. Her breasts are huge and, for an older woman, they're nearly perfect. Slowly he takes off the shoulder straps of her brassiere. She raises her arms up over her head. He buries his mouth in her armpits. She's all hairy. She doesn't shave there."
James Groten's prick was expanding and pounding. His hands were slithering up and playing with Alice's full breasts. His fingers were pinching her pointed nipples as she spoke.
"Then he pulls out one of her large breasts. Just one at a time. They're really heavy and he cups one with both hands. Her nipples are large and brown. He plays with her nipples. All this while she just stares right ahead. She never says anything. Then he takes elf her brassiere. She helps him."
James Groten interrupted her. "And you can sit here and watch all this?"
"Right here. Right where we are now, James."
"And where's Mr. Dearing all this time?"
"He's in the kitchen."
"Can he see you?"
"Nope. Only in the bedroom."
"But he knows you're in here, right?"
"Oh, of course, because that's half the deal, you understand. It's when the chauffeur finally gets her all undressed, and she insists that he kiss her entire body, that Mr. Dearing finally gets really hard and oh, James… he's so cute. You should see him… how he plays with his little thing and how he's always looking down at it and how he seems to be wishing it would grow as big and as thick as your wonderful prick is now. Oh, James…"
"Well, then about here, I disappear. I go into the second bedroom over there. I sit down on the bed. I push the button that lights up the window into Martha's bedroom. As I do this, the chauffeur is just about ready to go. He never takes his clothes off."
"Then, in comes Mr. Dearing. He comes through the panel in the closet. And she acts so surprised, it always makes me laugh."
"By now, he's really horny, hot… like I am, oh, James, your tongue… yes, deeper inside… oh, my God, James, stick it up and wiggle, oh, yesssss, like that! Oh, just imagine! Can you see them in there? His little prick, her huge, hairy hole, him getting down on his knees… the way you are. Then he licks and finally she just grabs his head and brings it right up between her fat thighs and then, James… then…"
"Then what?"
"He comes! He comes, James, oh, just like I am now, a real, long, ohoooooo, sleepy come… oh, God!"
CHAPTER SIX
That Friday evening after dinner, Leslie was bubbling over with happiness.
"Oh, Daddy, I'm just going to love it in school. I never believed I could have such a good time. I dig the teachers the most! Especially, Mr. Spire, and he's also my homeroom teacher."
She went on at length. During her story of her first day in school, she mentioned the scene with Mr. Spire, his shirttail caught in his zipper. But she did nothing about having felt his hot penis a couple of times, how long it was and how she'd even told Catherine Dorchester all about it. The two girls had giggled every time they'd look up to see the handsome biology teacher as he paraded in front of the class with his long pointer.
"It appears you've done rather well, darling," her father smiled. "A new girlfriend and a nice, good-looking teacher. What else could you need?"
"How did you do, Daddy?"
"Oh, so so."
"Anybody nice there at your stuffy office?"
"A couple, I suppose." He didn't think he should tell her about Alice Duerr. There were some things a man didn't tell his young daughter. But as he continued drinking his after-dinner coffee, he could still taste Alice's burning hot pussy, her creamy liquid. He could still feel the flesh of her hungry cunt inside his mouth.
"Daddy, you're daydreaming."
"Sorry, darling. Did you have something on your mind?"
"Yes. Yes. I have."
He looked over at her. She was snuggled up on the couch across the living room. After school she had changed her clothing. Now she wore a pair of very tight, very short, white hot pants that hugged her virgin pussy and enclosed her firm buttocks like a glove. On top, her sweater was open down to three buttons and he could easily see the delightful cleavage of her breasts. Her nipples were also visible. Her long hair covered her shoulders and she never looked prettier to him. Christ, was she going to be an attractive woman!
"Well, tell your old man."
"You're not my old man, because if you were, then I'd have to be your old lady, and you know what that means!" she laughed gaily.
"What does that mean, darling?"
"It means we would be… be fucking… each other!"
"LESLIE!!??"
She jumped up. "Oh, Daddy, I shocked you, didn't I?"
"To say the least. Even I don't use that word."
"Listen to me, old stuffy, in school we all use that word, but only when it means fornication, intercourse. For example, we never say I lost my fucking pen, something like that."
"Oh, I see. I understand," he said drily.
"Well, when a girl has a steady boy, the boy is her old man and the girl becomes his old lady, understand now?"
"Yes. Yes, I see. So, I'm not your old man, because… because… we're not, as you say not fucking, right?" He had to laugh despite himself.
"Right on!"
"Well, darling, old man or not, what's on your mind?"
She got up and came over and sat at the foot of the easy chair in which he was sitting. He could smell her sexy perfume. She put her head against his knee and her fingers began to play on his thigh. "Daddy, Catherine who I told you about…"
"…whom I told you about…"
"…Whom I told you about, well, can I ask her over for tomorrow? It'll be a good idea because we can do some of our homework together."
"Okay with me. Sure. Have her over. There's plenty of room here… plenty."
"And, Daddy, could she stay over until Sunday? You see," she hurried on, "her parents are separated too, and her mother… well, she's the older generation, you know, and she's a drag. Catherine doesn't have a father either."
"She can stay over." As he looked down at his daughter's shining hair, and felt the warmth of her body against his legs, he felt his penis shift slightly. From his position, he could look into the folds of her soft yellow sweater. He could see the lovely curves of her young breasts.
"Thanks, Daddy. I knew you'd agree." She got up slowly, using his knees as balance. She stood in front of him and stretched sensually. "I'm going to bed early, Jimbo, okay?"
"Okay," he replied and reached for his book.
As Leslie turned to enter her room, she waved bye to her father. "You know what, Daddy?"
"What, darling?"
"I kind of wish you were my old man… and I was your old lady." With this she raced laughingly into her room and closed the door behind her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It wasn't until James Groten turned the last page of the book he was reading that Leslie's simple words and the thrill of her gay, teasing laughter smashed into his thoughts. Something unknown rumbled deep inside his body. He put the book down. He started to get up and sat down again.
Old lady. Old man.
In the kitchen he made himself a drink. Leslie had mopped the floor and all the kitchen chairs were turned up on the table. He sat up on the sink drain board.
He tried to condense his thinking. Why was he sexually aroused by Leslie? How many arguments did he need to convince him of moral error, moral wrong? None!
Going to the bathroom about twenty minutes later, he passed by Leslie's door. It was half open. She had the night light on. Her room was a collection of shadows. He paused. He saw her on the bed. Her back was turned. She was stark naked. He caught his breath.
Her knees were drawn up, close to her lovely breasts. He studied the contours of her bare feet, her toes, her ankles, up to her rounded buttocks, then up higher. His eyes caressed her smooth back, her bare shoulders, her flowing hair. He listened to her even breathing.