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From: Incest Man <familyincestfamilyincest@yahoo.com>
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Subject: "A Husband's Hobby" Chapter 3
Date: Mon, 16 Jan 2006 15:40:55 -0800
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===================
http://www.incesttabooo.com/husbhob.html
A Husband's Hobby
Chapter 3
Stuart Brooks was a handsome bachelor of thirty-two. He was
two years older than Natalie's husband Mark, but he had known the
younger man briefly in college. They had been bunkmates on a
month long archaeological dig in Arizona. The camp Director
remembered Jenkins as a rather serious university sophomore who
had taken the trouble to transplant nearly forty ocotillo shrubs
that the students and their professors had dug up during the
expedition.
Brooks himself had received his degree that same year, and
after that, he had had little contact with his former classmate.
He had almost immediately begun working on the project of helping
urban adolescents, although he had little money of his own with
which to finance any of his projects.
An enterprising, charming young man, Stuart Brooks had
managed to woo the widow of a wealthy financier, Sybil Weatherly,
into practically giving him the money for the camp project he
wanted to start up by Lake Devonshire. She agreed to finance the
land purchase and the construction program with only a negligible
interest charge to Stuart, a charge which her accountant and
lawyers had insisted upon. In appreciation, Stuart had named the
camp after her, adding his own name with a hyphen to symbolize his
undying indebtedness to her.
The fifty-ish widow was, in her words, "Pleased as punch"
with the arrangements her young partner made for the camp. She
had demanded to be driven up there when the first session opened
ten years ago, serving twenty five underprivileged boys from the
city almost entirely at her expense. The six week program was
highly successful, and the following year, Stuart had been able to
negotiate government grants to expand the camp's operations.
Mrs. Weatherly's health had declined steadily over the next
eight years, but the energetic Camp Director kept up his frequent
visits to her and brought her numerous gifts of candy or flowers.
He became such a well known figure in Mrs. Weatherly's upper class
neighborhood that the rumor spread that young Brooks was the
widow's private gigolo. When her son heard about her apparent
indiscretions, he completely renounced his relationship with her,
declaring that no mother of his would cavort around with some
young social climber.
Sybil didn't even bother to explain to her son that Stuart
Brooks was no social climber, but she quietly disowned him and
replaced him in her will. When the wealthy widow died two years
ago, Stuart could hardly believe the extent of his good fortune.
Not only had she left him enough stocks and property to be
independent for life, but she had also deeded the Lake Devonshire
property to the county with the stipulation that the Summer Camp
>From grobert@soho.ios.com Wed Sep 04 17:05:37 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: HusbHoby 3/8 "A Husband's Hobby"
From: grobert@soho.ios.com (TheEditor)
Date: Wed, 04 Sep 1996 07:05:37 -0800
for Boys was solely at the disposal of Stuart Brooks.
Since then, the camp's operations had expanded tenfold.
Instead of twenty-five boys for six weeks, they were now able to
handle a hundred boys for three different sessions throughout the
summer, a total of three hundred boys. More cabins and recreation
facilities were being built all the time, and Brooks envisioned
that in three years, Weatherly-Brooks Summer Camp for Boys would
be able to accept five hundred boys for each six week camping
session.
Already the camp was providing academic instruction as well
as the traditional outdoor activities that most summer camps had.
There were counseling and social programs as well, to give
specific help to the often immature or insecure young boys who
would be entering high school in the fall. Boys who had been
through Stuart Brook's camp showed a remarkable improvement in
maturity and confidence as a result of their camp experiences, and
the Camp Director was anxious to see that trend continue.
That was why he had decided, after Mrs. Weatherly's death, to
hire women as camp staff members. When the old widow had been
alive, Stuart had thought it prudent to limit his teachers and
counselors to men, to insure that his benefactor wouldn't be
offended or even possibly envious. But two years ago, he had
hired Arlene Thatcher as a cook, feeling that the large, buxom
nutritional expert couldn't possibly be seen as a threat to Sybil
Weatherly's memory.
Last year, a marine biology expert had joined the staff on
the condition that he be allowed to bring his wife with him. That
was Lucille Wells, and she stayed out of sight so much that she
might as well have lived elsewhere. The only time she came out of
her trailer was to teach a leather-working class, and she only did
it to keep from being bored.
It was a bit of a shame, too, Brooks reflected. Her husband
was busy throughout the day with his counseling and guidance
duties. Lucille was petite, blonde, and voluptuously proportioned
--- she definitely had the kind of possibility that Arlene
Thatcher lacked.
But this summer Stuart had Natalie Jenkins to think about.
He remembered when his old classmate Mark had contacted him in
town a couple weeks after Easter. He'd always thought Mark was
the kind of guy to plug his way through school, at a slow,
thorough pace, emerging with a post-graduate degree of some kind.
Then he'd end up in some kind of laboratory experimenting with
some kind of plasmic substances while he lived in a darkened
basement below the lab.
On the phone, however, Mark had said that he was a high
school teacher and that he was married! Shit! Stuart had
reflected. Old Jenkins the bookworm got married and I'm still a
bachelor ... Christ! But of course Mark Jenkins wouldn't have
married the kind of woman Stuart appreciated anyway. Jenkins was
the type to pick out some mousy librarian whose idea of a risque
subject was the sex life of an amoeba.
That was why Stuart had been slightly taken aback when he had
actually met his old college buddy's wife. Jesus Fucking Christ!
he'd remarked mentally. Old Jenkins really got himself a fox!
Natalie was as voluptuous as any centerfold model Stuart had ever
seen, and she seemed to be successful in her teaching, too. Her
shoulder length black hair framed her face in a mass of big,
billowing curls, accenting the almost blue shine that reflected
off it. Her eyes were absolutely gigantic, shadowed by her long
black lashes, and her lovely ivory skin was flawless. She didn't
look a day over eighteen, the way her proud tits jutted forward
like a couple of firm melons, ripe and ready for some hungry man
to taste. She was tall and slender, her perfect proportions
overshadowed only by the incredible firm length of her legs, and
Stuart had wondered why she became a teacher instead of a dancer.
Natalie uncomfortably skirted the Camp Director's leading
question at the time, stammering a weak reply to the effect that
if she'd become a dancer she'd have never met her husband. To
herself she had admitted that at this point, it wouldn't have made
a whole lot of difference if she hadn't met Mark, but in her heart
she knew she loved him deeply and really wanted to make her
marriage to him work.
Now, as she hurried across the clearing to the Camp Office,
Natalie thought about that first conversation she had had with her
husband's college friend. She'd been aware, at the time, of the
older man's appraising stares, and she sensed immediately his
instinctive approval. But this kind of male approval was
something the beautiful raven-haired teacher was used to by now,
and it worried her. It was the same kind of frank admiration she
enjoyed in the eyes of her young male students, and it was the
kind of admiration that could lead to embarrassing problems.
Oh, God! she groaned. I've only been here two days, and it
already had happened! I've already ruined Mark's and my chances
here! If only she had heeded her conscience's warnings about
taking a job in an all-male summer camp --- especially one in
which nearly all the males were thirteen and fourteen year old
boys! Dear God! What can I ever do about it?
She heard a flurry of youthful snickers and guffaws, seeming
to follow her across the clearing. She felt like turning around
and heading back towards the staff cabin instead of talking to
Stuart Brooks, but she knew she couldn't look the young gigglers
in the face. Logically she knew that they were responding to her
just the way every other healthy male youth responded to her, but
it didn't help ease the embarrassment. All the beautiful young
teacher could do was walk fast, and hope that nothing happened as
she approached the Camp Office.
The Camp Director looked out the open window in his office
just in time to see a flustered-looking Natalie Jenkins running
lightly toward his door. Behind her, he saw the vague huddle of
young male forms and heard their barely suppressed laughter as
their eyes followed the black-haired beauty across the clearing.
Stuart couldn't avoid smiling himself as he remembered how he'd
have reacted to gorgeous Mrs. Jenkins' twitching ass when he was a
teenager. And he grinned outright when he thought how he'd like
to respond now.
"Come in, come in, Natalie," he said grandly as she stepped
into the tiny office. Stuart Brook's desk nearly filled the
entire room it was so large, and the young teacher felt as if she
was wedged in between the edge of the desk top and the wall. "Sit
down," the older man offered, indicating a folding chair behind
the door.
Natalie twisted around to reach the chair, but when it was
folded out she found that she had to sit sideways or cross her
legs out the office door. She smiled nervously, realizing that
the Camp Director was fully aware of her discomfort and even
possibly enjoying it.
"I guess that's the penalty for having such nice long legs,"
he grinned, his gray eyes twinkling suggestively.
Natalie blushed and tried to ignore his remark. Was he
trying to hint at something? Could he possibly know already about
what had happened with Jason Powell only a couple hours ago? God,
it was too horrible to contemplate! He could fire her right now,
if he wanted to ... and then what would happen to her marriage to
Mark?
The pretty young woman was so confused by her own whirling
thoughts that she didn't even hear Stuart's question until he had
repeated it a second time.
"What was it you wanted to see me about, Natalie?"
"Oh! ... Excuse me ... the ... uh ... I had some class plans
that I wanted to ask about ... It's just a suggestion, but ...
well ..." She opened up one of the file folders she had brought
with her from the staff cabin. She took out a sheaf of writing
assignments that she had given to her students this morning and
held them out for him to look at.
Stuart gave the papers a cursory glance and then looked back
at the gorgeous young wife of his old college buddy. Holy shit
... to think Mark Jenkins could have married this fantastic chick!
Natalie could tell that the older man's mind wasn't on her
assignments, but she couldn't allow herself to wonder what he was
actually thinking about. She'd gotten herself into enough trouble
for one day, and she had a whole summer ahead of her. She adopted
a business-like expression and pointed to one of the boys' papers.
"Well Stuart," she began with a deep breath, "as you can see
the students are all on different levels. I know they've been
grouped alphabetically, and I'm not trying to suggest that you
change the classes or anything, but I think it would be helpful if
we taught them on an individualized basis ..." The teacher
paused, waiting for some kind of response from the older man.
Stuart smiled with feigned attentiveness, but he let his eyes
rove down over the full heaving mounds of her breasts, protruding
lushly under the stiff camp blouse she wore. Shit, he couldn't
remember the last time he'd seen a pair of jugs like Natalie
Jenkins'. And to think they were being wasted on old Mark! Too
late, the Camp Director replied, "Hmmmm, you mean work at their
own speed?"
Natalie nodded confusedly. She felt self-conscious, but she
didn't know if it was her own private guilt or something that
Stuart was deliberately doing to make her uncomfortable.
"You see, Stuart, I feel it's the best way I can deal with
all the different levels in the class. I only have each class for
a week, and it's really impossible to try to bring the slower boys
up to the same level as the smarter ones in that short a time ...
Honestly, if they each worked on separate progressive assignments
they'd all learn more ... and be better prepared for high school.
The teacher's voice trailed off as she saw that Stuart was
indeed ignoring what she was saying. His eyes were firmly fixed
on the front of her blouse now, where she could feel her nipples
stiffening inexplicably under her brassiere. She wasn't getting
aroused, surely! It was only her fearful nervousness that was
causing those sensitive little tips of her softly mounding breasts
to pressure against the confines of her bra. For the second time,
the dark-haired teacher's ivory skin flushed pink as she turned
her face away in embarrassment.
"Yes ... go on," Stuart prompted, not raising his eyes from
her voluptuous breasts. "You want to try this experimental plan
... is that it?"
"It's not exactly experimental ... it's been tried and proven
in the last ten years ... Now you have been keeping up with
educational methods, haven't you?" She looked him squarely in the
eyes, in an attempt to regain some of her composure.
"Yeah ... sure," the older man replied vaguely. "But I want
to give all the kids a fair chance ... and individual assignments
aren't fair to everybody ... Some boys won't learn anything, and
some will do all the work ... What have you got in mind anyway,
Natalie?"
The young teacher was grateful to have the opportunity to
talk about something more concrete. She took out the notepapers
in the other folder and offered them across the desk. "It's just
a progressive series of assignments ... Some boys might finish
this set in a day, and others might take a week, but at least
they'll all learn something ..." She looked up expectantly, and
nearly sighed aloud when she now that Stuart's eyes were again
feasting on her insufficiently disguised curves. "Mr. Brooks,"
she began formally, in near-exasperation, "am I doing something
wrong?"
It was the Camp Director's turn to be startled, but his
initial surprise at Mark's wife's spirited question was quickly
replaced by a half-smile of amusement. He liked a lady with guts,
and he suddenly had the urge to find out just how gutsy this
brunette chick was. Hell, old Jenkins wouldn't mind ... weren't
they old college buddies? A licentious gleam crept into the older
man's eyes as he almost imperceptibly shoved his chair back from
the over-sized desk.
"No, Natalie," he said evenly, the salacious smile still
playing on his lips, "you're not doing anything wrong ... yet.
But I sure would like to do something wrong with you!"
The intent of the handsome bachelor's remark was
unmistakable, and the young wife suddenly froze to her chair. She
didn't move when Stuart slowly stepped around the desk and came
over to close the door to the office. His hairy bare leg brushed
suggestively against her smooth, slender thigh as he secured the
lock and turned back to look down at the trembling young teacher.
"Now, isn't it better to have that hot sun blocked out? The
glare was so bright I couldn't even see these papers you brought
me." But even though he was talking in a normal tone of voice
about a normal subject, the Camp Director didn't go back to his
seat. His body was leaning uncomfortably over Natalie's seated
form, and she instinctively inclined away from his hovering body.
"Yes, it ... it was rather ... warm ... Stuart ..." she
stammered. "I think that I'll just ... go on back to the cabin
You can keep those folders and ... and see what you th-think of my
idea." Her voice was quavering so badly at the end of her
statement that she was afraid she wouldn't be able to say anything
else, and she had to get out of that office quick!
She tried to stand up from the folding chair, but her
shoulder collided squarely with the older man's chest, and she
felt his hand at her elbow.
"Oh, not so fast, Natalie," he admonished, "I was enjoying
our little talk. I'm sure you can understand ... In my work
here, I rarely get the chance to talk at any length with women ---
especially as nice looking as you."
"Thank you, Stuart," Natalie replied hurriedly as she tried
again to stand-up. "But I have some papers to grade."
"After only two days, Natalie? I may not be a teacher, but I
know you don't get assignments to correct after only two days!"
The Camp Director leaned against the edge of the desk and
positioned his legs on either side of the young woman's demurely
crossed thighs.
Oh, Lord this can't be happening, the curvaceous teacher said
to herself. I'm only imagining that he's ... he-s m-making a pass
at me ... aren't I? She looked up curiously into the light-brown-
haired man's still-smiling face. His eyes were fixed firmly on
the barely-concealed vee up between her crossed legs, as though
his gaze was burning right into and through her thin nylon
panties. God no! she protested inwardly.
"Ah, yes ... this is much better," the Camp Director said
with smug satisfaction. "You know, old Mark is quite a lucky guy
to be married to such a ... a liberal woman as you are."
"Liberal?" Natalie repeated confusedly. What did he mean by
that?
"Certainly," Stuart confirmed. "I mean, you go in for all
the new, liberal education ideas ... and you like to let everybody
do their own thing ..." He glanced down at her and pressured
inward with his powerful legs so that his inner thighs squeezed
into her bare satiny skin. "I suppose your --- uh --- personal
life is just as progressive as your teaching ..."
This last observation sounded like a question, and Natalie
wasn't sure how to answer it. The Camp Director was obviously
hinting broadly at her most private sexual habits, but she
couldn't believe her ears. This man was supposed to be a friend
of her husband's! How could be seriously considering ... God!
She couldn't even complete the thought.
Desperately she glanced around the tiny little office,
groping for some clue as to what she should do. But there was
nothing, no picture on which she could comment, not even a clock
so she could pretend to be late for something. She wanted
sincerely to say something blunt and unmistakable, that would put
an end to the older man's salacious insinuations, but she knew she
couldn't jeopardize her job. She had come here specifically to
see if the change of environment might do something to help her
and Mark's relationship, and already she had made one potentially
dangerous mistake. She just couldn't compound her error. All she
could do was just sit Stuart out, and hope that he didn't have the
audacity to do what he seemed to be hinting at.
But Natalie Jenkins wasn't aware of the Camp Director's past,
and she didn't have any idea how he had managed to finance his
whole camp project. Had she known, she would have realized that
anything Stuart Brooks wanted, Stuart Brooks got, by whatever
methods were required. And right now, Stuart Brooks wanted to
know a lot more about his college friend's wife ... a lot more
than she imagined.
The older man finally raised his eyes from the teacher's
trembling form and glanced toward the window with a faraway look.
"Yeah," he said almost absentmindedly, "I can tell you're one of
those hot and hearty types ... You remind me of a woman I knew --
- I hope I'm not offending you --- who used to get off on two-
three guys at a time ..."
Natalie gasped at the man's boldness, unable to say anything
to stop his suggestive comments. She winced inwardly as he
continued, apparently unaware of her discomfort.
"Yeah, that Lollie was quite some chick, Natalie ... and she
was a lot like you, married and all, but a real swinger. Do you
and old Mark swing, Natalie?"
Oh, God! Oh God! the black-haired teacher groaned to
herself. What on earth can I say? I've go to get out of here!
Abruptly she rose from her chair, pushing Stuart's legs away from
her own as she shook free of his subtle grip on her thighs. "No,
we don't swing," she lied hotly, embarrassed by the idea that just
this afternoon she had succumbed to what might be considered
swinging in the Camp Director's eyes.
Undaunted by the woman's sudden movements, Stuart moved away
from her chair and reached into a small medicine cabinet on the
wall. "Can I fix you a drink?" he asked smoothly, as if he didn't
know she was preparing to leave. "I'd like you to stay awhile ...
at least until the dinner call ... We can have a nice cocktail
together. It's cocktail hour, now, isn't it?"
He seemed amused by his own observation, and without waiting
for Natalie to reply, he poured her a vodka-seven using a mixer
from the ice chest behind his desk. The voluptuous, scantily-clad
young teacher was caught off balance by the Camp Director's
incongruous offer of a drink, and she accepted it almost without
realizing what she was doing. A soothing drink was just what she
needed right now, even if it was supposed to be contrary to camp
policy. She smiled out of the corner of her eyes at the man who
dictated the camp policy, letting him know that she was aware of
his double standard.
"This is purely therapeutic, my dear," he grinned. "I can
see you're tense, and I don't want any tense teachers in my summer
camp."
At this, Natalie had to smile outright, and as she sipped the
drink a little faster than she was used to, she began to feel
noticeably more relaxed. Slowly, Stuart's insinuations and
provocations didn't seem so odious anymore, and eventually,
Natalie found herself laughing with him as she let herself admit
what a charming man he really was.
No wonder Mark liked him so much in college, she thought. He
does have that sort of personal magnetism ...
She let herself lean carelessly against the huge desk just
the way Stuart had been leaning a few moments ago. But this time,
the Camp Director stood in front of her frankly appraising her
with his eyes. She didn't flinch when he moved closer --- the
room was too small for him to be very far away anyway --- but she
did jerk abruptly when she felt his fingers at her waistline.
"Oh! ... St ... Stuart!" she exclaimed weakly, not knowing
whether to laugh or cry at his renewed advances. Just when she
was beginning to enjoy his company, she didn't want to be reminded
of the unpleasant first half of her visit.
"Relax, Natalie," he chided. "I wouldn't hurt one of my own
employees, would I?" He slipped his fingers inside the waistband
of her short-shorts, and ran them along the silky smooth flesh of
her tiny, girlish waist. "I just think we should get to know each
other ..."
The voluptuous brunette had heard that line a hundred times
before, but for some reason, it didn't seem so obviously insincere
from Stuart Brooks as it always had before. Natalie shook her
head as if she was dreaming, but she couldn't shake off her
strange feeling.
With a start, she realized that she must be being affected by
the alcohol, even though the drink had been small and not too
strong.
She looked down fearfully as her husband's friend loosened
the front zipper of her shorts. "My God, Stuart ... really!" she
protested, steadying herself with her hands against the edge of
the desk. She tried to clamp her thighs together to stop the Camp
Director from sliding her short-shorts all the way down the satiny
length of her legs, but it nearly made her lose her balance. "N
... Now, stop it ... this instant!" she commanded, almost as if
she was talking to herself.
The older man seemed amused by her protests. "Hell, baby, I
hired you as a teacher, not a prudish little teenager. Where's
your adult maturity?" he queried mockingly. The green shorts were
descending slowly down Natalie's smooth legs, tugged gently by the
man's anxious fingers. "Aaaah, that's better," Stuart said with
satisfaction as he lifted the brunette's feet to remove the camp
shorts. He gazed lewdly at her thin nylon-covered pubic mound,
shadowed darkly through her panties.
Natalie gasped when she felt her last flimsy protection
disappearing too, and her flesh tingled when she felt the air
washing over her private, forbidden genitals. "Ooooooh," she
moaned helplessly. "Oooooh, God ..."
She shut her eyes tightly as she felt the Camp Director's
palms slowly pushing her thighs apart, sliding his hands softly
over their inner flesh. She jerked involuntarily as they roamed
inexorably upward, moving butterfly-like across the sensitive
white flesh. She could feel his breath coming in short hard gasps
as his fingers made light, subtle contact with her fleshy, hair-
lined cunt-lips. Natalie groaned helplessly as his fingers teased
over them, pushing the soft outer flanges into the thin quivering
slit of her vagina. He played gently, his probing digits pulling
teasingly at her darkly curling pubic wisps.
Not again ... God, not again! the half-naked woman thought
frantically. I can't give in again ... Lord, Natalie, get hold of
yourself! You don't have to let him go that far ... Oh, God,
make it stop! It's torturing me.
His index finger slipped suddenly between the outer lips and
flicked teasingly at the moist red opening beneath, bringing
another groan from her lips. She had never felt so humiliated in
her life as she felt now, but at the same time, she didn't know
what to do! Refuse him? And risk not only her job, but the
chance to straighten out her marriage as well ... Let him go on?
Heavens! How could giving in to another man ever help her
problems with Mark? It just isn't fair!
Frightened, confused tears began to well up under the brown-
eyed woman's lids, and she worked her mouth desperately to keep
them from falling. She struggled to stand upright, determined to
stop the lewd outrages that her husband's old friend was planning
for her, but when she looked down at his obscenely grinning face,
she slumped back against the desk.
There was no escape. Somehow, against her will, she had let
herself get led into this. Who knows, maybe she had even invited
it, by some unconscious action on her part. This afternoon in the
staff cabin, she had certainly caused the young camper to become
aroused. God, maybe she'd done the same thing to Stuart Brooks!
Maybe her marital frustration was so obvious in her expression
that she was really inviting these outrageous advances! But I
love my husband, don't want these other men to ... to use my body.
She shut her eyes as his hands pushed the hem of her blouse
up to expose the whole area of her soft, down-covered crotch.
Then she felt him unbuttoning the front of her shirt and sighing
in obscene appreciation as the large firm spheres of her breasts
came into his view, under the thin, sheer lace of her brassiere.
She tried not to cringe from his touch as her mind whirled crazily
in confusion.
Oh, he can't ... he simply can't she was saying mentally.
I've got to make him stop, without jeopardizing my job ... God,
I've just got to stop this ... this adultery.
"Oh, Christ, baby," Stuart was breathing, "you sure are
fucking beautiful." His hotly working fingers were reaching
behind Natalie's back now, searching for the tiny clasp that held
her bra. The young teacher's flesh seemed to melt to butter under
his hot caress, as she sank back against the desk in hopeless
submission. She sighed audibly as the confining elastic of her
lace brassiere was suddenly released, and her huge breasts swung
free of their prison. "Jesus Christ! You've got the biggest tits
this side of the Rockies, Natalie ... even bigger than old
Lollie's!" He stood back appraisingly to admire them. "Yes, sir,
old Jenkins sure got himself a fox. Tits like that'll poke your
fucking eyes out!"
The black-haired nature guide's wife winced at the Camp
Director's crude observations, and once more she made a valiant
effort to put an end to this salaciousness. "Yes, Stuart," she
croaked fearfully. "thank you for ... for the com-compliment ...
Now, I'd bet-t-ter get my clothes on and ... and ..." She pushed
against the desk top to try to stand up, but the muscular man's
reactions were too swift. He grabbed her by the shoulders and
pressed her whole body back on to the desk, so that her naked
upper body was now reclining backwards and her long legs were
dangling helplessly over the edge.
Her quivering, curl-covered pubic mound was perched just at
the corner of the desk top, and below it, Stuart could see the
delicate coralline flesh of the teacher's trembling pussy.
He pressed her firm, ivory thighs apart with his hot, moist
hands, spreading the tender cuntal flanges so he could actually
see the smooth inner flesh of her vagina. Natalie had never
before felt so exposed in all her life, and she began to feel
nauseous as the older man continued to pet and fondle her soft,
yielding flesh. The tears that had collected under her eyelids
now trickled out the corners of her eyes to run silently down the
sides of her temples and drop into the billowing mass of her black
curls.
She fully expected that the Camp Director was going to pull
off his clothes and attack her, without further hesitation or
preliminaries. She wondered briefly what time it was, or if there
was any chance that the dinner bell might sound and save her from
further degradation, but her imagination was soon overcome by
Stuart's voice, sounding deeper and more menacing than before.
"Mmmm-hhhmmmm ... that's it ... just like that, Natalie.
Now, if I can just get around here ..." The teacher heard the
folding chair she had been sitting on now scraping across the
linoleum floor of the office, and she jerked her head up in
surprise. Stuart Brooks was dragging it across the room to the
cabinet from which he had produced the vodka, and he seemed to be
preparing to stand on it!
It was then, for the first time, that Natalie noticed the
expensive looking 35mm camera atop the liquor cabinet. It was
surrounded by equipment like flash units and extra lenses and
suddenly the black-haired teacher was wracked with apprehension.
Her mind quickly made the connection, even before Stuart had
climbed up on the chair. He was going to photograph her! He was
going to take a picture of her in this lewd, compromising
position!
"Oh, no, you can't," she whispered fearfully. Her legs
clamped together instinctively and she raised herself up on her
elbows. "Please, Stuart ... I didn't mean to ... uh ... lead you
on or anything ..." Her voice sounded weak and ineffectual to her
own ears, and she groaned to herself when she heard it.
"Oh, now, Natalie," the older man chided. "This won't hurt
... I told you I never hurt my teachers, didn't I? A man doesn't
often meet a gorgeous chick like you, Natalie, and I'm sure your
husband won't mind if I take a few pictures as mementos. Now,
just lie back like you were." He was speaking to her now from
behind the camera, which he seemed to be focusing as he talked.
He stood up on the chair beside the open window, letting the
afternoon light stream in on the teacher's prostrate form on the
desk. The sun lit her thighs and sparse pubic curls, bathing them
in warm, yellow light, accenting the pulsing pinkness of her
private pussy flesh. Stuart sighed aloud.
"Aaaaah, right there --- hold it!" Click! The Camp Director
rolled the film on ... click! ... again ... click! "Oh,
fantastic, baby!"
"Now, I've just got to get a couple more ... here ..." He
stepped down from the chair and came over to the desk again. This
time he raised both her knees high in the air, placing her heels
on the edge of the desk in a lewd, outspread position. Her long,
shapely legs were poised like a couple of golden arches, one on
either side of her deliciously exposed cuntal slit. She balanced
her feet on the edge of the desk top, unconsciously thrusting her
vaginal plane closer to the camera as Stuart Brooks climbed back
up on the chair to focus again.
"Okay, baby, you look great ... right there, Natalie! Oh,
shit, hold it like that!" Click! Another obscene picture was
recorded on the licentious man's film. Click! ... click ... The
black-haired woman groaned inwardly as she heard each frame being
rolled on, as the Camp Director took picture after picture of her
helplessly exposed body. She tried to tell herself that it could
be worse, that the former college friend of her husband's might be
actually fucking her instead of taking lewd photographs, but it
did no good. If he had attacked her, or even raped her, the act
would be over and done with, just as her seductive liaison with
Jason Powell was a thing of the past, however lewd and forbidden.
But a picture ... that was something permanent, a constant
reminder of her inability to control her desires or inclinations.
Natalie was almost afraid to ask why the muscular bachelor
was so intent on photographing her nudely reclining body. It
crossed her mind that pictures were potential evidence against her
in some kind of court action --- but for what? Did the Camp
Director have some kind of unspoken suspicion about her --- maybe
some idea of what had happened in the staff cabin this afternoon?
Oh, no, it can't be! No one can ever find out about Jason!
Suddenly, the teacher was more concerned about finding young
Powell and cautioning him not to tell any one about their obscene
interlude than she was about the fact that Stuart Brooks was again
repositioning her body for another series of pictures. She rolled
compliantly over onto her side as the brown-haired man poked and
kneaded at her supple flesh, pulling her arms and legs as he
arranged the next pose. She balanced her head on her hand, this
time propping it up so her thick black hair cascaded down over her
slender forearm. She raised her leg high in the air and grasped
her ankle with the other hand just as Stuart directed, and if she
looked down the deep valley between her breasts, she could almost
see the moistening lips of her exposed pussy glistening in the
sun. She was ashamed and humiliated beyond belief, but her
imagination was back in the staff cabin, a couple of hours ago.
Jason would have gone back to his hiking group, of course,
and surely he couldn't have started talking about his experience
right then, in front of his nature guide, Natalie's own husband.
>From grobert@soho.ios.com Wed Sep 04 17:05:58 1996
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: HusbHoby 4/8 "A Husband's Hobby"
From: grobert@soho.ios.com (TheEditor)
Date: Wed, 04 Sep 1996 07:05:58 -0800
If Mark had divided them up into groups and sent them off on their
own, then the blond youth would have had the chance to tell his
buddy what had happened, but ... If Mark needed the edible plants
book, he must have been giving them some group instruction right?
God, I hope so! I, oh, Mark just HAD to keep all the boys
together today. He just had to. The afternoon hiking sessions
were supposed to break up at five or five-thirty, to give the boys
time to go back to their cabins to wash up for dinner. That would
be the time Jason would have been able to tell someone what he had
done ... Natalie tried to remember the youths who had been
giggling outside the staff cabin when she had been on her way over
here. Were they in Mark's group? Or were they her own young
charges from this morning's 3-R's class? Why weren't they being
supervised? Lord! What if Jason didn't even go back to his
hiking group?
The new and frightening possibility renewed the teacher's
apprehension, as she realized that even if her husband had tried
to communicate with her over the intercom radio she wouldn't have
heard him ... she had been in the bedroom, stroking and caressing
her own trembling cuntal flesh. God Almighty!
Natalie moaned as she unconsciously responded to Stuart
Brooks' prompting, "Shove your ass back, sweetheart. I want a
shot of that tight little asshole you've got ... That's it, pull
it apart with your fingers ..." The man's bold, almost clinical
tone seemed out of place with Natalie's frenzied worrying, but it
made her present predicament seem less ominous. She complied with
even Stuart's most perverted requests, allowing him to photograph
her most private, forbidden flesh.
It seemed like ages before the Camp Director grunted and
gasped that he had exhausted his roll of film, and for a few
frantic seconds, Natalie feared what might happen next. But she
was shocked and relieved when Stuart smiled calmly. "Thank you,
my dear ... you were absolutely wonderful ... We'll have to get
together for some group poses sometime ..." The young teacher
didn't have time to wonder what he meant by "group poses" ... she
had to find Jason Powell, right away. Hurriedly she dressed
herself for the third time this afternoon, and left the Director's
office without even taking her folders with her.
* * *
Natalie had barely had time to freshen up before Mark trudged
into their bedroom, dusty and sweaty, but happy.
"How was your afternoon, honey?" he greeted her with a peck
on the forehead. "I'm bushed ... Christ, I don't know what I'd do
if I was a gym teacher and had to watch thirty kids running around
all the time. Twelve is bad enough ... You can't imagine the way
they fired questions at me all afternoon. That's why I had to
send that kid back for the book ... There are a few plants out
here that I couldn't identify."
The brunette teacher nodded sympathetically, hoping that her
expression wasn't betraying her real interest in her husband's
day. "Did you try to split them up into groups, dear?"
"No ... no, I haven't done that yet, although they do seem to
have buddies among their cabin-mates."
Natalie sighed inwardly. At least Jason couldn't have told
anybody during the hike. But her husband's next question caught
her off-guard.
"What did you think of the boy I sent for the book, Nat?" he
asked, apparently unaware of her uneasiness.
"The ... um ... you mean Jason Powell?" the teacher
stammered. Why is he asking? Does he suspect?
"Yeah ... nice looking kid, isn't he?" Mark commented
absently. "He looks a little bit like Stu --- Stuart Brooks ..."
Natalie's lovely face drained of all color. Mark did know!
It was impossible, but it was the only explanation ... Why would
he talk about Jason and Stuart both at the same time?
But how, oh God, how could he know? It had only been a scant
fifteen minutes since the embarrassing episode in the Camp
Director's office, and Mark had been out on a hike all afternoon.
Dear God!
Mark continued almost without hesitation. "Seeing old Stu
again after ten years has really brought back some memories. Stu
used to be pretty wild, you know, and he thought I was some kind
of priest ..." He looked up from where he was sitting on the bed
and smiled ironically at his young, beautiful wife. "I guess you
think I'm some kind of priest, too, don't you, dear?" His clear
green eyes were sad as he spoke, almost as if he was apologizing
to her for something.
The black-haired woman felt herself close to tears. How
could she allow it? How could she let Mark apologize to her,
after all she had done this afternoon? It was almost as if she
was deliberately flaunting their mutual agreement to try to work
out their problem. She was the one who should be apologizing to
him.
But not yet ... it was too soon ... Maybe he had started
talking about Jason and Stuart out of coincidence, rather than
from some deliberate plan. Natalie turned away from her husband's
sad smile and looked out the small window into the clearing.
Already groups of hastily-scrubbed boys were lining up outside the
mess hall with their group leaders, anxiously waiting for the
dinner gong to sound. Natalie recognized one or two of the fresh
young faces she had in class, but the only name that was in her
mind was Jason Powell. Shaking her head sadly, the young teacher
turned back to see her husband wrapping a towel around himself.
"I'm going down to take a shower, honey ... See you at
dinner!"
Natalie nodded. It was still hot outside even though it was
almost 6 PM, so she didn't bother to change out of her shorts into
something warmer. Besides, maybe if she hurried she could catch
Jason Powell alone for a minute or two, and explain to him why
their little encounter would have to remain a secret forever.
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