The Winifred Chronicles Ch. 1

WARNING:

The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and
contains descriptions of explicit sex.  If you are not an adult, or
reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a
sexual nature - do not read any further!

This story is for entertainment only.  It contains adult oriented
material. This is a work of fiction.  The acts and characters contained
within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact.  I do
not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here.  The
characters in the story are entirely fictional.  You need to believe
that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the
written permission of the author.  This story may be freely distributed
with this notice attached.

* * * * * * * * * *

This tale starts immediately after "Office Mating Ch. 3" where I got
reinstated to my Director position by my boss's boss and met Clara's
latest visiting niece Rose, a runner with strong legs who had a lesbian
incident with her coach and was vehemently against letting me probe her
pussy with my prick.  I mean, what's with young women these days,
anyway?

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning I awoke with thoughts of Rose, my neighbor Clara's
niece, who got some great oral attention but rejected the thought of
full-on sex.  Maybe I'd be lucky; Clara would work her over with a
vibrator and send her home, artificially satisfied.

My day was all planned out: bowling in the morning with Smith and Jones,
and then Harriett's return with her British assistant.  And, if I were
very lucky, somewhere in between or during, I'd find a young woman who'd
appreciate eight inches of the Midwest's finest man sausage.  There had
to be at least ONE!

Smith hadn't been thrilled with the idea of bowling at ten A. M., just
as the lanes opened.  There wouldn't be many pretty young female bowlers
to ogle, and his favorite waitress wouldn't be working that early in the
day.  Maybe she'd be in class at a local university or working her day
job.  None of us knew who she was or what he life was like when she
wasn't dolled up in her waitress uniform at the alley.

I got out the old bowling bag, dusted off my Black Beauty ball and
knocked the cobwebs out of my shoes.  I'd had the same size feet since
college, when I first bought that gear.  Other bowlers probably
considered them antiques, belonging in a locked glass case in some
bowling museum, but they still worked for me.  And the shoes saved me a
few bucks on rentals when my buddies and me went out to the local lanes.

Traffic was moderate, putting me at the bowling establishment a few
minutes early.  The guy behind the counter, with his name Stan
embroidered on his shirt, was still doing opening duties when I asked
for a pair of lanes, so Smith and Jones and I would have some elbowroom.
 And, if I were off target, I'd just be throwing my ball down an alley
we'd rented.

"Bar's closed," Stan muttered.  "Snack Bar is open, though."

A folding metal gate blocked entrance to the normally dimly lit bar
area.  Neon flickered to life down the way at the Snack Bar counter, as
somebody turned up that roller device that slowly cooked hot dogs to
death.  Heat lamps were tanning yesterday's nacho chips, and the smell
of oil meant that popcorn would soon be available.

Smith came through the door just after my conversation with the clerk. 
"Hey, Harv, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"  The greeting was
punctuated by a hard slam on the back, one that contained more
aggression than warm feeling.  What did he have against me?  I punched
Smith's shoulder, and didn't pull it.  He smiled but rubbed the point of
impact.

Jones was through the door a minute behind Smith.  "Hey Harvey."  No
physical contact, just a wave.

We jockeyed for position, taking seats around the electronic scoring
desk.  Combined, the smell of our socks and shoes polluted the air for
six lanes in either direction.  It took us no more than three frames
each before we ran out of things to talk about, so the barb trading
began.  Smith wanted to know if I was gaining weight.

I ignored his question and parried.  "Too bad the bar is closed.  You
won't have a chance to flirt with your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend.  I just like looking up her skirt, and she
doesn't mind as long as she gets tipped for her trouble."

I held back a reply about how he might think about giving her a
different tip, the tip of his dick, as she bent over.  No need to flaunt
my promiscuity with these two blabbermouths.

Smith asked about Annie, and I gave him some bullshit about her success
at college.  The truth was, I wasn't plugged into her schooling, just
her coed pals.  About half a dozen of them, one at a time back on my
birthday.

"Jaqi is coming into town next weekend.  She said if I saw you to say
'Hi.'"  Smith wasn't happy about being the message courier, given his
sour expression.

"Tell her 'Hi' back.  What is she now, a senior?"

"Yeah, graduates next year.  No more college bills, thank God.  Too bad
the job market is in the toilet.  She'll probably come home and live off
her old man."  Smith wasn't too happy with that idea either.  He put his
emotions into his next roll, which splattered the ten pins in all
directions.

"You know, Jaqi has a thing for you," said Jones.

Smith strutted back from his strike and aimed a finger at me.  "Listen,
you stay away from my kid."  His face was redder than his favorite
Christmas-themed bowling shirt, the one with "Ball Busters" on the back.

I raised my hands in surrender.  "Sure.  No problem.  I don't expect
we'll be running into each other.  I don't hang out in the same places
as college kids."  Not that the idea hadn't crossed my mind.

Smith seemed to take me at my word, maybe the first time, and calmed
down.  However, from that point on he bowled awful.  Maybe the mere idea
of his daughter and me threw off the rest of his game.  He didn't mark
for the rest of the line.

We'd just started our third game when I saw the bend-over waitress come
in and converse with Stan the opener.  She was in a t-shirt and jeans. 
"Hey, look who's here."  I pointed.

Smith dropped his ball at the sight of his favorite server.

"Hey, watch it!" hollered Jones.  "I only got two feet."

The waitress looked over at the commotion, recognized us - I knew
because she smiled - and headed straight to our lanes.  She waltzed down
two steps into our field of play.  Unlike when she was working as a
waitress, she had no make-up on, a distinct improvement.  More pretty,
less slutty.  "Hi."  It was a breathless sound, more exhaled than
spoken.

"Smith here didn't recognize you in civvies," said Jones.

"Oh, maybe this would be more familiar."  She turned to face away and
bent at the waist.  Even with jeans on, we all knew just how fine an ass
she had.  We'd seen it peeking out from her short black waitress uniform
lots of times.  She straightened, and so did my cock.  "You're early
today.  Guess I won't have the chance to play our little game.  Unless-"
She approached Smith and took his chin between her thumb and index
finger, "you'd like a cup of coffee."

Smith swallowed hard but didn't disengage from her light grasp.  "Sure. 
Bring some for these two Bozos, too."

Her eyes rolled back and she shook her head.  Her brown hair waved like
the starting flag at the Indianapolis Five Hundred.  "I'm off duty. 
What I meant was, would you like to go for a cup of coffee?  With me?"

Smith looked at me and Jones.  Shit, she was offering Smith the chance
of a lifetime, to make good on his lecherous flirtations and have some
quality time with a sexy young woman.  I'd have accepted in a
microsecond.   But she'd asked Smith.

"Uhhhh," stammered Smith.  "There's a Starbucks on the corner."

"Let's go to my place," she replied.  "I make a mean latte, with milk
that's really hot."  The last word was a sharp exhale.

Shit!  She was inviting him to her place?  For coffee?  For a bend over
and fuck me, more likely.

She didn't wait for a reply.  She led Smith away from our lanes, up the
stairs and out the door.  Any resistance on his part was feeble, because
she led him out the door despite their relative differences in height
and strength.  Must not have been trying too hard to get away.  I didn't
blame him one bit.  I shook my head.  "I guess Smith forfeits this
line."  We had a standing deal, loser pays.

"He left his street shoes," said Jones.  "I'll hold onto them for him. 
And his ball."

The young woman would be caring for Smith's balls within the hour.  I
was sure of it.

Jones paid for all three lines.  I didn't have to outrun the bear; I
just had to outrun one of my companions.

* * *

I was jealous that the sexy waitress picked Smith instead of me.  I
probably wouldn't have gone with her anyway, afraid to expose my
promiscuous nature to my big-mouthed buddies.  But the incident sparked
lascivious thoughts.  When I caught a glimpse of Sgt. Papa's Bytes and
Pieces alongside the highway below me, I remembered the stealth videos
of mismatched fathers and daughters that Zenellis had captured during
his invitation-only encounter in Wisconsin.  All at once, my curiosity
overflowed about those videos.  They were safely stored on four hard
disks in my basement crawl space.  I'd need a RAID drive cabinet to
reassemble them into a useful configuration.  In my town, the obvious
place to shop for such an item was Sgt. Papa's used electronics
emporium.  I had time for a quick stop.  Harriett and her Brit assistant
wouldn't arrive for hours.

I swerved onto the immediately available exit ramp but made a sharp left
turn before it became a highway merge lane.  Just down the access road,
his store was a rusty Quonset hut with a faded and flaked hand-painted
sign that had seen better days.  I parked on the gravel patch that
served as his lot.  Several cars were present.  Maybe the Sarge was
having a sale.

An electric chime played Revile as I swung the door open.  Over a dozen
long tables held mounds of surplus electronics, wires, batteries,
motors, and logic boards for computers whose companies had long since
disappeared but who lived on in my t-shirt collection.  At the far
counter, Sgt. Papa stood proud in his military short-sleeved shirt and
matching cap.   The caricature of his face on the sign depicted a
younger proprietor.   He was in an intense conversation with a young
woman whose back was towards me.  Only when her arm swooped her dark
hair back did I see the blonde streak.  Damn, he was tailing to Nashta,
the pizza delivery girl.

I casually strolled towards them.  Sgt. Papa glanced towards me, away
from the young lady and the white MacBook covered with stickers on the
counter.  "I'll be with ya' in a minute, fella."

Nashta's hand was stroking the old Mac.  She didn't look up.

"That's okay.  Just curious what you've got here."

Nashta turned her head, her eyes wide, and stumbled back.  "You!"

"I leave my house sometimes.  Whatcha shopping for?"

She patted the MacBook.  "I need computer for school."

"Listen, we're doing business here, fella.  If you'd kindly wait your
turn, this won't take long."  Sgt. Papa held up his palm, intended to
stop my interference.

Which made me all the more interested in their discussion.  I had a
feeling Sgt. Papa was going to take an inappropriate amount of Nashta's
hard earned money.  Not that old Sarge was a crook.  Maybe just not the
most trustworthy guy in town.  "I know this young woman."

"Yes.  He Mister Large Sausage."

The Sarge smiled.  "Quite a nickname, fella."

"Nashta delivers pizzas to my house."   I took hold of the computer,
which was plugged in behind the counter.  "That's my usual order."

"If you say so."  The Sarge snickered, but then noticed I was opening
the lid of the Mac.  The tip of the power adapter cable glowed orange. 
The battery was charging, maybe because the Mac had been on the shelf
for a while.  Positive interpretation.  Or maybe something more serious.
 "I'm just going to check this out if you don't mind."

The Sarge pressed his lips together.  He wasn't appreciating my
intervention.  Nashta wore a concerned look.  "Is okay?"

Clicking on the Apple, then About, the MacBook had been upgraded to one
gig of memory.  I clicked on More info and examined the power
statistics.  The battery had been cycled over five hundred times.  The
chemicals inside were long dead.  "How much are you asking for this
antique?"

"It works fine.   Perfect for school.  Five hundred."  The Sarge crossed
his arms.  Not a happy soldier.

"Four hundred would be too much.  And she'll have to buy a replacement
battery for about one hundred thirty.  Three fifty is a fairer price,
and at that, you're making a few bucks."  He probably got the computer
from a school liquidation for a hundred, once of those One Student One
Computer lease programs.

"Okay, three fifty, plus one hundred for the power adapter."

I ran my hand along the cord.  It was dirty and rough.  The owner hadn't
been gentle.  "A new one is only seventy nine.  But you'll throw this
one in, just because you're a nice guy, right?"

Sgt. Papa growled.  "Okay, three fifty including the power cable.  Final
price."

Nashta smiled and dug deep into the pocket of her tight jeans.  She
retrieved a fistful of crumpled cash.  We watched as she flattened the
bills: singles, fives, tens and an occasional twenty.

"Three hundred and fifty," she announced with a smile.

"And you'll eat the tax for this promising student," I suggested.

Nashta put her hand on my chest.  It was the first time she'd touched
me.  I looked down at her thin fingers and polished nails.  "No.  I pay
tax."  She counted out thirty-four more singles.

He unplugged the machine and the screen went black.  Yep, the battery
was shot.

Nashta smiled.  "Is okay.  I use plugged in."  She pulled at my shoulder
and kissed me on the cheek.  Not a peck.  A long warm smooch.

I was sorely tempted to turn my head ninety degrees, to feel those firm
lips against mine.  But a public display of affection in front of Sgt.
Papa was ill advised.  He already thought the two of us knew each other
intimately.  No need to feed that fantasy.

"I repay you.  I promise."  Her grin lit up the room.  With MacBook in
her arms, the power cord dangling after her, Nashta ran for her car, the
same one she delivered pizzas in.  I stood a bit taller for having done
a good deed for a deserving young woman, with no sex involved.

"Now, for me," I said.

"Huh?"  Sgt. Papa dragged his eyes from the departing young woman's
behind and tilted his cap.

"I need a four-slot RAID array box, SATA drives with a SCSI interface." 
I had an old PowerMac perfect as the host.

"Hmmm.  Might be hard to find."  Sgt. Papa disappeared down a deep thin
aisle.  A few minutes later he waddled back to the counter holding the
exact item I'd requested.  "You're a lucky fella.  I have just this
one."

It had a familiar logo - a black Z on top of a hound's-tooth pattern. 
"Where did you get this?"

"At a liquidation sale.  Some company went belly up."  Sgt. Papa hoisted
his pants over his beer belly but they didn't reach.

Given the distinct logo, the drive bay had been used by Zenellis in his
company.  Maybe the exact one that had housed the drives I'd
confiscated.  "I'll take it."

"Five hundred bucks."  He grinned.

The guy probably had a stack of them in back.  "You wouldn't be able to
get me a few more, would you?  I'm putting together a small data
center."  My turn to be less than honest.

"I probably could.  How many?"

I made a guess.  "Twenty?"

His eyes gleamed.  "Hang on."

He vanished down the same aisle and came back almost immediately.  "I
moved a few crates and guess what I found?  I got a pallet of these
babies in prime condition.  And I'll let you have them all for two
hundred a piece."

Two hundred times twenty would be a windfall sale for a place like the
Sarge's.  "Tell you what."  I pulled two crisp one hundred dollar bills
from my wallet's secret pocket and put them on the table.  Then I placed
Sgt. Papa's hand on the bills.  That left the RAID box unencumbered for
me to heft from the counter.  "I'll try this one out and if it works
like you say, I'll be back for the other nineteen."

Sgt. Papa sputtered as I walked away.  He shouted something as I pushed
the door open with my foot, but Reveille announcing my departure drown
him out.

* * *

After putting the RAID hardware downstairs on a folding table, my new
makeshift computer desk, I swept the house for remnants of my porn
collection I'd taken out and forgotten to put away.  Harriett was
ignorant of my adult reading and photographic materials, and her first
day back was not the time for her to learn, especially with a houseguest
in tow.  I crawled into the attic and repositioned my collection of
paperback books and magazines deep behind a stack of abandoned plywood
and framing.

I was as nervous as a schoolboy preparing for a first date even though
Winifred and I would never have that kind of relationship.  If my rule
prohibiting sexual relations with co-workers had failed in the past -
and it had - then it couldn't fail with my wife's assistant.  I'd been
on the wrong side of blackmail and I didn't relish the possibility of
another instance.  This was just too close to home.

I recalled Harriett's comments about Winifred Cummings, the college grad
with no place to live.  'It'll be like having another daughter without
all of that messy stuff.'  Yeah, like sex and pregnancy.

I dressed down, cotton drawstring shorts and a t-shirt.  I didn't want
to give Harriett the impression I'd gone out of my way to look special,
and I didn't care what kind of impression I made on Winifred as long it
wasn't the attraction kind.

Harriett's leased Lexus pulled into the driveway.  My coupe and her
sedan occupied the garage.  My heart was beating like a drum solo.  How
would living with a stranger affect my life?  Not in a good way, I was
certain.  Harriett came through the front door all smiles and giggles. 
Of course she was happy.  I'd be grinning too if Tashun allocated me a
company car allowance.  Although it wouldn't be a Lexus sedan.  The
cheap bastard might not have even paid for a Chevy subcompact.

"I'm back!" Harriett shrieked.  I was standing right in front of her, no
need to announce.  She waved both arms as if in a parade, then stepped
aside.  One look at Winifred and I sighed with relief.  One time I'd
seen a commercial for the TV show 'Super Nanny' where a British woman
invades a family, makes the parents feel inadequate and terrorizes the
children.  Anyway, Winifred looked like a younger version of the title
character.  Except with darker and bushier eyebrows, frizzier hair
escaping from a bun, puffier cheeks, and a cleft in her round chin. 
Otherwise identical.  And she was yawning like a hippo.

She wasn't my type!  I didn't know there were any females who occupied
that category until Winnie came across the threshold.  Winifred was even
chunkier than Anita the pretend Little John from my birthday celebration
who was a bit heavier than my usual. Not even a flinch from my dick. I
was safe.

"Harvey, this is Winifred my new assistant."

There hadn't been an old assistant.  "Hi," I said.

Winifred yipped as she closed her mouth.  "How do you do?"

Harriett joined Winifred in yawning.  "That trans-Atlantic return flight
was so noisy.  I couldn't catch a wink of sleep."

Huh?  I thought Harriett had been at a convention on the East coast. 
"You were overseas?"

"Yes, at headquarters.  They flew me out suddenly in the middle of the
conference, introduced me to the worldwide marketing manager, and
assigned Winifred to me.  I told you England is where Winifred is from
originally."

Winnie spoke up.  "Yes, quite, but I attended business school in
Boston."

I was angry and jealous and confused all at the same time.  Harriett's
employer flew her out to headquarters in the UK so she could meet the
brass?  And they assigned her an assistant?  I'd never been outside the
continental United States except for a few hours on the Canadian side of
the Ambassador Bridge when I was in Detroit, and that was no big deal. 
Just a movie and dinner with a blind date.

"We're both going straight to bed," said Harriett.

Together?  Had Harriett gone lezzy?

"Put Winifred's bags in Anna's room," she continued.

"So where will Annie sleep?  When she's home on break?"  In bed with me
when you're not here?  But then Winifred would be gone and Annie's bed
would be available.  Sometimes I confuse myself.

"Anna won't be coming home for break. She's going to visit - how many
were there? - five or six friends at their homes."

I'd hoped that Annie would earn a few bucks during break to help with
her college tuition, room and board.  "A great way to avoid working." 
Five or six?  The same girls that had their way with me?   Would she pay
them back by fucking their fathers?  I'd bet on it and I'm not a betting
man.

"May I freshen?" asked Winnie.  "And then perhaps a bite to eat?"

"Sure.  Follow Harvey upstairs. The bathroom is just across from Anna's
room."

I took one suitcase in each hand and trudged upstairs.  The third step
groaned twice:  once with my weight plus the two bags and again when
Winnie stepped on it.

"Oh my!  Does it always do that?"

"Yep.  Step lightly."  An impossible task, given her heft.

Winnie made a right into the bathroom while I turned left and put down
the bags.

Harriett was at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me with her
lecture look.  "I want you on your best behavior.  Winifred is an
absolute gem.  She does things even before I ask.  I'll beat quotas this
quarter for sure with her help.  Which means a nice fat bonus."

Nice and fat described both Harriett and Winnie.  It was unlikely that
either of them lost weight during their travels.  Eating at restaurants
provides less meal control.  "I'm always a nice guy.  Just remember that
this is our home, not boarding house.  Winnie will need to make some
accommodations too."

The last sentence was delivered to Harriett's back.  What she had to say
was vital.  What I had to say was worthless.  I followed her into the
kitchen.

Harriett chattered on, expecting to hang on her very word.  "I'm busier
than ever.  We have clients to call on, all over the country.  But I
insisted on coming home for a couple of weeks."

Did Harriett miss me?  She made it sound like she'd done me a favor. 
"How come?"

"Don't you remember anything?"  She waved the top page of our
fridge-sized calendar hard enough to create a breeze.  "We have
Emanuel's Bar Mitzvah and Peri's wedding."

Sure, two upcoming family events were the draw, not her husband.  "Oh
yeah, the next two weekends."

"Speaking of family events, how was your visit with Anna?  For your
birthday, I mean." Harriett puttered around the kitchen, moving items an
inch one way or the other on the counter.

"Fine."  All of the attention my dick got from Annie's dorm mates had
left it red and sensitive, but I'd healed.

Harriett opened and shut various cupboard doors.  "She told me she had a
surprise planned.  What was it?"

"A sampling," I said.  Of several of her friends.

"You didn't over-do it, did you?  Your eyes are always bigger than your
stomach."

And around those coeds, my cock was bigger than normal, sticking out
below my belly.

Harriett clucked her tongue.  "I'd wager you did.  Did Annie make
everything herself?"

I hadn't made it with Annie.  She was off with what-was-his-name.  "Her
friends helped."  Besides the girls Annie had recruited, I'd added Inga,
Claudia and Robin.  "And I may have overindulged a bit."

"See, do I know you or what?"  Harriett rummaged through the fridge
contents.

I hadn't been dutiful in shopping while Harriett was away.  Occasionally
I'd buy milk for breakfast cereal, and some cold cuts for sandwiches and
snacks.

Harriett peeked around the fridge door.  "Speaking of food, you didn't
plan anything for dinner tonight, did you?  Never mind, I'll whip up
something.  Leave it to Harriett to take care of things."

There wasn't much for Harriett to work with, but that never stopped her
before.  The doorbell rang.  I wasn't expecting anybody.

When I opened the door, Nashta stood there in her uniform of jacket and
jeans.  In her hand, my usual - a large sausage pizza.  She grinned a
lovely smile.  "For you.  No charge."

I took the box from Nashta.  Harriett joined me at the door.  I'd been
caught red-handed with contraband in a cardboard container.  "You know
this stuff is poison, don't you?"

"You not alone.  Other peoples?" asked Nashta.

Harriett leaned over my shoulder to get closer.  "You know each other?"

"She's delivered here before.  We got a coupon in the mail a few weeks
ago and I decided to support a local business.  But there's been some
mistake.  I didn't order this."

Nashta's smile disintegrated.  "No mistake.  Present."

This was
Nashta's pay-back for getting her a better price on her MacBook.

"Why would you get a present from -"  Harriett read the name on the
cardboard box.  "-One Hot Piece?  What kind of name is that?  What, are
you in their frequent buyer's program?"

"No.  Just once."  That was a lie.  I hoped Nashta wouldn't contradict
again.

Nashta stood speechless, shaking.  Harriett scared her.  Not an atypical
response, which is why I was surprised that Harriett had been successful
with clients.  "Sorry."  Nashta ran from my doorstep, muttering
something in her native tongue.

I pointed at the retreating young woman.  "See what you did?  You
frightened her."

"So what?  She's only a pizza delivery person.  Maybe she'll stay away. 
Your health is more important than her feelings.  Throw that thing out. 
I'm going to check on Winifred."

"Okay."  I waited until Harriett walked upstairs before sneaking the
pizza into the basement.  Nashta had paid for it with her own limited
funds, and I was not about to waste her money.  Besides, cold pizza is
good the next day.  Or even the day after that.

The door rang.  Had Nashta forgotten something?  As I ran upstairs, I
prayed for someone else to be at the door.  Inga looking to get laid. 
One of Annie's friends in a negligee.  Inga's father with a shotgun. 
Anybody.

Rose, Clara's niece, stood in jacket and skirt, her athletic legs on
display.  "Hi. Got a minute?"

I was delighted at the prospect of getting my hands on that young lady
but not with two chaperones in the house.  The third stair groaned. 
Without looking, I knew Harriett or Winifred was behind me.  "For your
portrait sitting?  Of course. Right this way."  I glanced back and saw
the Brit.  "I promised I'd take a few shots."  My last shot at taking a
shot between Rose's legs had failed.

"You're a photographer then?  Harriett told me you were a computer
systems person.  I thought we might have a chance to talk about
technology and your experiences-"

"Maybe some time, but now I really have to-"

The stair groaned again.  "Hello."  Harriett joined the growing throng
in the foyer.  "And you are-"

"Rose.  I'm visiting my Aunt Clara across the street and I need to see
Dr. Marcus because-"

Harriett snorted.  "Doctor?"

I intervened.  "I'm taking a few photos of Rose for her portfolio. 
She's an athlete.  Just a favor for a neighbor."  My hand gently on her
back, I hustled Rose to the door leading down one flight.  "Besides,
you're always telling me to use my equipment."   There'd be no chance to
use my equipment with Rose.  Too much risk with two folks rumbling
around upstairs.  "We'll be in my studio."

"You mean the basement?  Don't be too long.  I've got dinner in the
oven."

As Rose descended, she looked back at me.  "She's huge!"

I didn't know if she meant Harriett or Winifred.  I guessed the latter. 
"My wife's assistant."  I assumed the sway of Rose's ass was
unintentional, but I could have been wrong.  At the bottom of the
stairs, Rose opened the door and stepped through.  I followed and shut
the door behind me.  There was no lock or I would have latched it.

Just around the corner, I'd set up the backdrop and lights I'd borrowed
from Angie at the Underwuud Studio.  While Harriett had been away, I
scrounged a few wooden skids for a platform, and covered them with cheap
plywood and remnants from a dumpster behind the discount carpet store. 
The backdrops flowed onto the platform, covering the patchwork of solids
and patterns.  My digital still camera, a point and shoot model, was
mounted to a professional tripod.  A maple stool sat in front of the
dark brown backdrop.

Rose faced me and drew an invisible circle on the floor with her pointed
foot.  "I'm sorry about my behavior.  I should have showed more
respect."

I wandered towards the camera.  "You didn't break anything, not even my
morale.  And you're not the first patient who got angry with me."  I
needed to keep up the ruse of being a physician.

"Oh. I wasn't angry. Just startled and really confused. That's why I
came over. Aunt Clara said I should talk my confusion out with you.  You
were pretty cool discussing private stuff before."

Actually, I'd been pretty hot.  Hard and erect, ready to violate her. 
She was the one who was icy and uncooperative.  And with a vise-tight
pussy.  "I'd be happy to.  About your coach, right?  Have a seat."

Rose approached the stool, clasped her hands, rubbed her thighs, folded
her arms then grasped the stool and sat down.  "Well, actually, there's
more.  God, I've never told anybody the whole story.  Not even Aunt
Clara."

This was an unexpected twist.  I thought Rose's confusion was about
lesbian tendencies.  "Go on, dear.  I'll just get my camera ready."

"You mean you're actually going to take photos?"  She ran fingers
through her hair.  The gesture made no difference, maybe because of the
short length.  "I'm not wearing make-up or anything."

I wondered if the 'anything' included underwear.  "I'll need to have
something to show my wife if she asks.  Please, a few shots to give me
cover."

"Okay.  Maybe it'll help."  She unzipped her jacket and threw it to the
side.  A plain blouse matched her plain face.  "So, what happened was,
after Coach went down on me, I was really confused.  I mean, since I
enjoyed it, was figured I was a lesbian."

"Turn your head a bit this way and lift your chin.  Great.  Go on."

"Since I was convinced I liked girls, I started looking at my teammates
differently.  You know, as partners?"

"Only natural."  I looked at young women the same way.

"So I picked out one who really got me turned on, just thinking about
her.  I'm not going to tell you her name, okay?"

"Sure.  Give me a nice natural smile."  She did as directed.  "Perfect."
 Maybe I could get her undressed.  But then what?  It would be too
dangerous to do anything beyond kissing.  And she was so tight, she'd
probably scream her head off during sex.

"So after she broke a school record in the javelin, I hugged her
congratulations and slipped her a quick kiss."

The image of Rose and another hottie kissing twitched my cock.  "Turn
your body a little.  How did she react?"

"It was fine, seemed spontaneous even though I'd planned the whole
thing.  It felt sneaky, you know?"

"Not sneaky.  Romantic.  How about unbuttoning a bit?"

"Do you think that's okay?  I mean, I wouldn't want you to get into any
trouble."  Her smile was that of a collaborator.

Rose was trouble all right, but I wasn't going to get into her.  "Just
the top few.  We'll be careful."

"Why am I being so shy?  You saw more yesterday.  Now, where was I?"

I pulled back from the LCD viewfinder.  "You'd hugged and kissed a young
teammate."

She didn't stop with a few.  She unbuttoned the whole blouse and left it
hang there, giving me a peek at middle of her bare chest.  "A couple of
days later, I approached her in the shower.  She has great breasts, not
small like mine and a really nice ass."

No bra in sight.  Was she planning on doing more than chatting?  I
wondered if she was wearing panties.  "Your breasts are nice."  I hadn't
seen them.

"Really?"  She pulled her blouse open.  "These tiny things?"

They were small but perfectly round with nipples that pointed up,
begging for a mouth to sample them.  "They're beautiful."  I wiped drool
from the corner of my mouth.

"Thanks."  Color rose in her cheeks.  "Anyway, in the shower, I walked
over and touched her.  God, she exploded.  I'd never heard such language
from any of my teammates.  I guess she was really upset, getting fondled
by another female."

I thought about asking for the young woman's name and phone number. 
After Rose's description, her teammate's body sounded gorgeous.  "So
what did you do?"

"Well, I backed off and apologized.  I was so embarrassed.  I thought
she'd be interested in me.  I never thought it would be one-way, after
we kissed and all."

Rose had kissed the javelin thrower, but hadn't said the kiss had been
returned.  "You'd been rejected.  That must have felt awful."

"Yeah.  Which gave me second thoughts about myself and about what Coach
had done.  I mean, maybe I wasn't attractive to other women."  Her
blouse waved as she talked with arm gestures.

"You're very attractive to me."  Oops, a couple of words too many.

"Thanks."  She pushed the blouse open and tucked it behind her, leaving
her tits exposed.  "I knew it was wrong for a teacher, even a coach, to
engage a student sexually.  You see it on the news all the time-"

"All too frequently.  Chest out, please."

Rose thrust her shoulders back.  "So I went to Vice Principal Weber, to
tell him what happened before Justine- oh shit, I said her name- before
she could report me.  I mean, didn't I have to prevent Coach from doing
the same thing to another girl?"

Some day, I'd have to meet Justine who likes men, not girls.  "You did
the right thing.  What did he say?"

"At first, he was cold, almost like he didn't care.  But then he asked
for the specifics, and when I told him the details, including the part
about Justine, he got all mushy, stroking my hair and hugging my
shoulder.  He was really touchy-feely, if you know what I mean."

"Uh huh."  I sure did.  I'd be performing my version of hands-on if
there weren't two large women lurking upstairs.

"I told him there must be something wrong with me, that I was sending
the wrong signals if Coach thought I was interested, which I wasn't. 
The vice principal said I was sending him signals too."

"Don't slouch.  Sit up straighter.  That's good."

Rose tilted her head.  "Why are you taking pictures of me naked?"

"Not naked.  Just exposed."

"Okay, but don't post them anywhere, okay?  Anyway, he stood me up and
gave me a hug.  Tight."

"Not romantic?"  I wanted Rose in my arms, so I could feel her naked
skin against mine.  Nope, too much risk.

"No, he treated me like I was some toy.  He rubbed my breasts through my
blouse and ran his fingers up my legs, up my skirt.  Before I knew it,
his fingers were inside my panties and he was probing my vagina."  Her
hands had drifted to her thighs, wide apart.  Her skirt was dangerously
high.

"I can't believe a vice principal would do such a thing."  Even though
I'd done it multiple times.

"It was awful. And then he unzipped his pants and forced me to kneel and
take his thingy in my mouth."  She made a yuck face.

I had to be sure.  "His penis?"

She nodded.  "How gross is that?  And all the time he kept repeating how
sexy I was and how turned on I got him, every time I walked by. Then,
when I didn't suck him the way he wanted, he got angry and called me a
slut and forced his penis deep into my throat. Even when I choked he
didn't stop. I thought I was going up suffocate or pass out. I wished I
did because then he would have stopped."

"Sounds like a real pervert."

"When he started wheezing, he practically fell into his swivel chair.  I
was completely humiliated.  There's something wrong with me, I just know
it.  Maybe you can figure it out."  One of Rose's hands had disappeared
under her skirt.

"I'm glad we're talking through your issues.  It's good for a young
woman to understand her sexuality."

"But that's just it.  I felt good when the coach touched me, and when
Aunt Clara put her mouth on me, but also when the vice principal
fingered me, and even when I sucked his thing.  So am I gay or not?"

"Maybe you're bi."

"What's that?"

"Someone who appreciates the touch of a man or a woman."

"There's such a thing?"

"Oh yes."  My cock was ready to burst from my pants.  "From everything
I've heard, you've been manipulated by two unscrupulous adults."  Clara
didn't count.  I would have been delighted to be the third.

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"  Rose looked around at the
backdrop and lights.  "Is this really your photo studio?  You shoot
others down here?"

Shoot in them, more likely, but not Rose with two chaperones in the
house.  Too much risk.  "Yes, I've done photo shoots of many young women
here."  I lied.  "Maybe someday, you might want to have someone create a
portfolio for you.  You're very pretty."  No lie.

Rose shook her chest, her small breasts with enough mass to wiggle a
bit.  "And do you have them take off their clothes like you did me?"

"Most of the time."  I wished.

I was prepared to ask her to pull up her skirt when Harriett's voice
boomed from upstairs.  "Harvey, dinner is ready.  Come up now."

Harriett misplaced the word 'please' decades ago.  Everything was a
command.

"Wait right here."  I took the stairs two at a time, breathing heavily
at the climb and the partially nude young woman downstairs.  Why was
Rose sticking around, half-dressed?  More counseling?  Certainly not
sex.

Winifred was sitting at the kitchen island, eating what I thought was a
small portion.  She took up one entire side of the counter.  Harriett
handed me two plates with some concoction.  "Maybe your friend would
like some.  Take a couple of bottles of water with you."

I skipped the water but carried the plates with forks dangling at the
edges.  We had pop in the basement fridge.  When I got downstairs, Rose
was on the bar stool wrapped in a sheet.  I put the plates down hard and
slammed the door at the bottom of the stairs, thinking about how I could
block it shut.  A chair?  The RAID array box I'd just purchased?  "What
are you doing?  Where are your clothes?"

"I figured it out."  She pointed at the camera, next to which she'd
neatly stacked her clothes.  "You use photography to get your female
patients comfortable.  What a cool idea!  And having them undress for
pictures lets you administer the appropriate therapy.  See, I'm pretty
smart."

What a creative interpretation.  Wrong but creative.  And who was I to
contradict?  Besides, in an odd way, she was correct.  "You've got me." 
Except she wouldn't, at least that night.  "So you're expecting me to
take more explicit photos now?"

"Why not, aren't I as pretty as the other girls?  You said I was, didn't
you?"  The sheet was draped around her neck, flowing down her chest,
both ends continuing and meeting between her thighs.  That left her
shoulders, sides, hips and all of her legs exposed.

"I deserved that."  And maybe I deserved to get between those legs.  Too
bad that either of the women upstairs could come down unimpeded and
catch us in the act.  And since Rose was exceptionally tight,
pussy-wise, there would be noise to draw their attention.  I picked up
one of the plates.  "Want some dinner?"

"Nope.  Ate before I came."

I would have loved to eat her like Clara had, just to make her cum.  I
took a forkful.  The taste was ghastly.  I put down the plate and
fetched one slice of sausage pizza from the basement fridge.  The cold
dough, cheese and meat rescued my taste buds.  I wiped some errant sauce
from my chin.

"You're going to take pictures while we talk some more, right?"

God, if Harriett or Winifred came down, what would they think?  A young
woman wrapped only in a sheet?  I'd be in a whole load of trouble. 
"Yes, but just a few more."  I was certain that at some point, if she
was any more exposed, I wouldn't be able to control myself.  "Turn a
little this way."

Rose gripped the sheet tightly.  "I was thinking about the Vice
Principal when you came close yesterday with your pants down.  You know,
vulnerable, even with Aunt Clara standing there."

"And now?"

"Well, you're being really nice.  And Aunt Clara explained things to me.
 Says you work together to help young women with their sexuality. Is
that right?"

"Yes."  Right into the sack.

"And she said I'd be a perfect subject because of all the trauma I've
suffered."  Rose waved the sheet back and forth across her chest,
threatening to expose her breasts again.

Clara would say that.  She'd say anything.  "We don't force anybody to
do anything they don't want to do.  So you can walk out of here with a
better understanding of yourself, and I'm good with that.  No hard
feelings."  A hard-on but never mind that.

"Got it - free to choose.  I choose stay."  She rubbed the material
against her naked body.  "So, last night, what were you going to do
before I stopped you?"

"I was going to massage other parts of your body."  Outside and later
inside if things went as planned.

"Including my chest?"  She flapped the material that covered her
breasts.

"Uh huh."

"So do you want to do continue where you left off?  I mean touching me?"

The floor above us groaned.  Winifred was on the move.  Could I risk a
sexual encounter with a houseguest?

Rose reacted to my hesitation.  "Didn't you like it?  You were eager at
my aunt's house.  You even dropped your pants."

"Aunt Clara doesn't have strangers wandering around.  Strangers who
might get upset-"

"Because you're counseling me?  Too bad for them.  We'll just have to
pretend that I'm posing for you.  That's okay isn't it?"

"I guess so, but we'll have to be prepared for a visit."

"No problem."  She whipped the sheet open, exposing her nakedness, and
just as quickly rewrapped herself.  "See?"  When she crossed her legs,
the sheet tightened between her thighs.  "I loved the feeling of your
hands. Can you do that some more?" "After a few leg shots."  I unscrewed
the camera from the tripod and moved closer, taking shots of her below
the waist. 

Rose released her tight grip on the material and pulled one
end of the sheet from her crotch.  Half her groin was exposed, right up
to her pussy.  "How does this look through the lens, huh?"  She slid the
remaining material to the side and spread her legs,  "Ta da!"

I snapped a few quick shots of her bare pubes.  She was moist.  My
throat was dry.  I croaked, "Very nice."

She let the sheet slide off
her shoulders, falling behind her.  She was naked except for the cotton
blend draped across her back.  "I prepared, you know.  Aunt Clara used
one of her bilbos on me, to stretch my vagina."

"Bilbos?"

"Yeah, hard rubber shaped like a penis."

"Oh, a dildo."  Maybe Rose had taken an artificial dick, but that would
hardly make much difference after only one time, no matter how vigorous.
 "And how did it feel?"

"She said not as good as the real thing.  Can you get undressed?  I'd
like to see your real thing again."

"That's probably not a good idea, with my wife and her assistant
around."  As I delivered my protest, I took my clothes off.  There would
be no excuse good enough for Harriett if she came downstairs.   Whatever
Rose and I did would have to be fast and quiet.  My erection bobbed and
weaved in front of me.  "There."

"Oh goodie.  Are you hard enough?  You look hard."

She was asking if I
was ready to fuck her.  "Not just yet.  A few more pictures first, and a
bit more conversation."

"Oh.  Okay, I guess."  She stared at my erection, her tongue licking her
lips.  Was she remembering sucking the Vice Principal's cock?  "Look how
fat it is.  I think you're ready, all right."  She gave me a stern look.
 "Do it, Doctor.  Show me how the real thing feels."

"There are two women upstairs who won't understand what we're doing if
they walk in.  So we have to be very quiet."

"Oh, I get it.  Doctor patient confidentiality.  I'll be quiet.  I
promise.  And I'll keep the sheet handy, to cover up."

I knelt down and moved my face between her thighs.  I kissed her vaginal
lips.  She yipped, audibly.  "Sorry."

I licked and nibbled, using my fingertips to spread her labia wide.  Her
hips jerked so bad she almost fell off the stool.  The sheet fell to the
floor behind her, out of reach.  "Oh, oh, oooohhhh."

"Shhhhh."

"I will, if you'll just get on with it." She pushed me back and stood
up, leaning against the stool, her legs spread wide.  "Aunt Clara said
you do great therapy from behind."  She wiggled her butt.  "Has she
watched you do it?"

"Yes, at least once."  I leaned close, one arm around her chest holding
a tit, the other on her belly, sliding lower to the start of her slit. 
"You're a beautiful and sexy young lady.  The Coach and Vice Principal
both took advantage of your naivete.  Shame on them.  And they gave you
inaccurate impressions of your sexuality, which led to the embarrassing
scene with your friend in the shower."  I let my finger slip between her
labia.  She wasn't as impenetrable as the previous evening but still
very firm.  I searched for her clit.  When she jumped, I knew I'd found
the spot.  "But you don't have to be manipulated by anyone any more."

She put one hand behind her and gripped my cock.  "You're right.  No
more."  She stroked my prick keeping it firm.

"So our therapy is done."  Although I wanted to fuck her, there was too
much risk.

"You can't stop now."  She guided my cock closer, too close.  "I didn't
want the Vice Principal to do me, but I want you.  Then I'll know that
I'm normal."

I didn't understand Rose's logic.  But she was offering me a free pass
to fuck her from behind, choreographed by her aunt.  We couldn't do
that.  Shit, I'd be dead meat if I got caught.  I considered my options.
 Eat her to orgasm?  And what if she screamed at climax?  I was still
thinking as she rubbed my cock up and down her slit.  I was almost at a
decision when she yanked me forward and slipped my dick past her wet
labia.

"Ooooh, Dr. Marcus, you're making me normal."

I was making her, all right.  "See, you're fine."  As fine a sex partner
as I'd ever imagined.  Her pussy pressed hard against my cock.  My cock
fought back, demanding blood from other parts of my body, including my
brain.

"Maybe a little deeper.  Aunt Clara went deeper with the bilbo, uh
dildo."

I pressed forward until about half my cock was in her tight passage.  
The bilbo hadn't stretched her much at all.  "How's that?"

"Great.  Shouldn't you be going in and out?  Aunt Clara pushed the dildo
in and out.  It felt awesome.  Can you do that?"

It was bad enough that my cock was firmly planted in Rose's cunt.  Now
she wanted to be actively fucked.  God bless Clara!  "Okay, just a
little."  I pulled back a bit.  Rose's pussy relented on the withdrawal
but delivered renewed pressure with the reinsertion.  "Like this?"

"Yes.  Just like that.  But faster and deeper.  I took the whole dildo
inside."

"Really?"  Maybe the dildo was thinner.  She was so tight, movement was
a strain.  "Yeah.  Sure."  I picked a slow pace, the only way possible. 
"This is the right pace and depth for therapy."  Like hell.

"Oh yes!  It feels awesome.  In and out, just as if I was normal."

"You are normal, normal as any woman I've ever-"  As hard as I tried to
keep it slow and steady and at a consistent depth, my body didn't
cooperate.  I picked up the pace and probed deeper.

"Oh yes!  This is what auntie did.  She said this was good fucking.  Are
you giving me a good fucking?"

"Yes!  I reached around and held both breasts, pinching her nipples. 
She moaned.  Loud.  The floor above creaked with movement.  Shit!  I
hadn't intended on going this far, but now that I'd started, I couldn't
stop.

"This is awesome, so much better than rubber.  Oh, my stomach is
churning.  What's happening?"

I was in a zone.  "You're getting turned on, and soon you'll have a
climax.  An orgasm."  Just the words compelled me to fuck her faster and
deeper.

"I didn't have one of those with the dildo.  Oh, yes, it's not my
stomach.  It's lower.  Oh my!  Oh yes!  Don't stop!"

Her voice had gotten louder, maybe too loud.  "Shhhh.  Enjoy it, but
quietly."  I was close to climax.  "I'm sorry, Rose, but I can't help
myself."  Holding her hips, a slammed my groin against her ass
repeatedly, long deep strokes.

Rose whimpered, doing what I'd asked.  I pulled her tight against me, my
cock bumping her cervix.  At the peak of her stimulation, her pussy
clamped down as cum exploded from my cock.  She clenched every muscle in
her body and screamed!  "Eeeeeee!"  I had predicted it.

As soon as I heard footsteps, I pulled out and ran for the door, leaving
actual pecker tracks of semen on the cement floor.  Feet pounded down
the stairs.  I pushed against the door with my back as someone twiddled
the doorknob.  I waved for Rose to get dressed.

"What's going on down here?" Harriett shouted.  "I heard a scream.  Are
you doing something to that young girl?"

"Of course not."  Harriett got the tense wrong.  Our sex was over. 
"Rose uh -"  I glanced across the basement to the old Mac on the folding
table, waiting for me to assemble the RAID array.  And then I saw the
pointing device.  "A mouse.  She saw a mouse.  Yeah, a little grey one,
scurrying across the floor."

The door fought me.  "Let me in-"

"No.  It might get loose upstairs.  Rose is about to leave anyway.  I'll
make sure the coast is clear and we'll both come up."

The pressure relented.  "You'll have to set traps.  I won't have rodents
in my house."

Her house.  That was true enough, a gift from her folks.  "Certainly. 
We'll be right up."  I kept my weight against the door while Rose put
her blouse and skirt on, even though I'd heard Harriett's footsteps in
retreat.

"That was close."  Rose knelt in front of me, licking cum off my wilted
cock.  It pulsed thicker as she tongued the length and sucked at the
head.  "Your penis is prettier than the Vice Principal's."

I didn't ask for details.  "Thanks.  Could you please stand guard?"

Rose took my place as sentry while I pulled on my pants and shirt.  I
tossed my jockeys in the whites pile near the washer and put the sheet
back in the synthetics mound.

When we got to the top of the stairs, Harriett was scowling, arms
crossed.  Did she suspect something, or did she just hate mice?  "How
big was it?"

Rose raised her palms about eight inches apart.

Harriett lurched back.  "Oh God!  That's a rat, not a mouse.  You said
it was small and grey."

I moved Rose's hands closer together.  "I think she's exaggerating, from
the trauma."

Winifred joined us, crowding the foyer with her mere presence.

"Thank you for letting me visit with your husband."  Rose extended her
hand.

Harriett shook it, reluctantly.  "You're welcome."  Her expression was
not a kind one.  "I hope you're not traumatized."

"Oh no!  We had a good chat.  Your husband really - straightened me
out."

Just the opposite.  Rose's tight vagina had straightened out my cock.  I
gave Rose a sterile pat on the back.  "About being a photographic
subject.  She'll do fine now."

Rose opened the door and departed for her aunt's house across the
street, leaving me with a bewildered wife and a houseguest.

Harriett pointed towards the staircase to the basement.  "Bring the
plates up.  Your eating downstairs probably caused our infestation."

One fictitious mouse had become an invasion.  I brought the mostly full
plates into the kitchen.  "What was this?"

Harriett was filling our wok with hot water.  "Stir fried vegetables
with a hoisen sauce and some left-over pasta."

Sounded like a side dish.  I put the elates next to the sink.  The
disposal would have a feast.  "What kind of meal is that?"

"A healthy one that will take a few pounds off all of us."

Harriett didn't look at Winifred but her intension was clear.  Winnie
was going to lose weight even if Harriett killed her in the process.  I
was collateral damage.

There was another argument, about whether we'd use humane traps or ones
that broke the varmint's neck.  Irrelevant since there were no mice. 
With warning, Winifred recused herself from the kitchen for a postponed
bedtime.  She retreated to Annie's room and stayed hidden during our
bickering over what TV shows to watch, what gifts to give Emanuel and
Peri, and every other topic raised over the next two hours.  Harriett
was home, all right, and things were back to a combative normal.

As I brushed my teeth, I replayed my session with Rose.  God damn Clara!
 The incident had been too close for comfort.  In the future, I'd have
to be very careful who came over and what we did.  I still wasn't
prepared for a divorce where Harriett came away with all of her assets
and I'd be left with my ass in a sling.

###

An Original H M Tale

I'm always interested in reader feedback, because that's the only way I
know you've read my stories. Send me an email at harveymarcus9@comcast.net.

Copyright (c) 2011, HarveyMarcus.  All Rights Reserved.


