Epigraph
"I had affairs
with a few girls of my own age, and they taught me that no girl, no matter
however clever or warm-hearted, could possibly know or feel half as much at
twenty as she would at age forty."
―Stephen
Vizinczey, In Praise of Older Women:
The Amorous Recollections of András Vajda, 1966
Book One: Minding Margery
Chapter One
In Need of a
Firm Hand
After four
years of home school, Miriam White decided to enroll her son Kenneth in a
public junior college. Miriam sought to further Ken's education in business
accounting.
"Kenneth, I
know your ambition is to become a writer," Mrs. White said. "However, by
developing your skills in accounting, you'll learn how to manage my
investments. Handling money is a heavy responsibility, you know."
"Yes mother,"
Ken answered. He had long ago learned that deferring to his mother's stern but
loving authority was not only proper, it also helped him avoid a whipping.
Still, Ken
looked forward to at last being away from his mother's watchful eye. He
hungered for freedom.
On the morning
that he was to begin junior college, Ken carefully selected the outfit he planned
to wear. He set his clothes out on the pastel blue chenille spread that covered
his spartan single bed.
After much
thought, Ken settled on a pair of neatly pressed tan slacks, a long-sleeved
white cotton shirt, a gray cashmere V - neck sweater, and dark argyle socks
to go inside a pair of burgundy colored penny loafers.
The collegiate
look.
In the
bathroom, Ken showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth. He splashed a
lavender-scented cologne called Hardwood on his
face and daubed liberal amounts of deodorant gel between his legs, on his
chest, and under his armpits.
Standing in
front of the bathroom mirror, Ken saw an earnest young man with bright blond
hair, handsome facial features and deep-set blue eyes,
wearing only a t-shirt and underpants.
A bit under
six feet tall, Ken was slender and well built, strong but not overdeveloped.
Only a sparse tuft of pale hair adorned his otherwise bare chest, a collection
of soft curls that nestled between his tiny pink nipples.
Ken's lean
legs were long, his bottom rounded, and his manly parts firm, nicely formed,
and exceptionally large. Unlike most young American males, Ken's penis remained
uncircumcised, the elegant engine exactly as the Mother Goddess intended it.
Following his
birth, Ken's mother Miriam rejected the circumcision procedure, declaring that
she would not let a corrupt medical establishment mutilate her precious son.
"But it's
necessary for good hygiene," the doctors and nurses assured her. "Besides, he'll
be teased by the other boys in the school locker room if it isn't done," they
added.
"That may be
so," Miriam answered, "but I don't care. Leave my baby boy's penis alone!"
The interval
of eighteen years from Ken's birth to the present had resulted in a manly organ
of surpassing beauty. On the critical issues of size and symmetry, Ken's penis
was a singular specimen. Indeed, the natural state of his equipment did nothing
but enhance the appeal of his overall genital package. The hood of pink
partially covering Ken's cock adorned the shapely head like a fleshy necklace.
Reaching into
his underpants, Ken took his penis in hand, retracting the foreskin on the
dangling column. He enjoyed playing with himself while completing his toilet.
Snatching a rat - tailed comb from the dresser drawer with his right hand,
Ken attacked his blond hair, working the comb from front to back.
Meanwhile,
with his left hand, he idly pinched the head of his cock. There was a knock at
the bathroom door.
"Kenneth-it's
me. I'm coming in," said a Feminine voice. It came from his mother's partner, a
woman Ken had known since childhood as "Aunt Margery." She opened the door and
briskly entered. Ken hurriedly reached for a towel to cover up but Margery put
her hand out to stop him.
"Don't bother
covering yourself, Kenneth," Margery said. "I'm here to examine your body.
Leave the towel on the rack."
Ken left the
towel on the rack and turned to face her. His jaw fell open as he realized that
Margery was wearing nothing besides a lacy white lingerie set and high heels.
At age thirty one, Margery was thirteen years older than Ken, a remarkable
woman at the peak of her physical allure.
Margery faced
him directly, a statuesque golden-haired beauty who stood slightly taller than
Ken at a full six feet in height. Ever since Margery had entered their lives,
Ken had secretly adored his mother's lesbian lover.
Ken had many
good reasons to adore her. Margery's dazzling figure was a classically sculpted
wonder of lovely curves and soft, inviting crevices. Her gorgeous hair was cut
in bangs straight across her forehead, medium length at the sides and slightly
longer in the back. Her smooth, clear skin exuded robust health and Feminine
sleekness beyond all concept.
Ken did not
know it, but there was another woman she resembled closely, the 1950s magazine
model, Betty Lake. The physical resemblance between blond Betty Lake and
Margaret Ann DeGrange was positively uncanny.
"Kenneth, what
have you been doing in here?" Margery asked, in a gentle tone.
"I
was-uh-combing my hair," Ken said, showing Margery the rat-tailed comb. "See?"
Ken frequently
became quite tongue - tied in Margery's presence. He never knew what to say
to her or how to say it, generally stammering banalities to conceal his nervous
excitement.
"Hmmm,"
Margery said, smiling as she looked him over. "Your ablutions this morning do
seem above average. You are freshly showered, deodorized, and appropriately but
not too heavily scented."
Ken continued
to stare at Margery, his mouth agape. She wore a high-waisted satin panty
accented with lacy side panels, a matching bra, a pair of white garter-less
stockings, and a pair of white high heels that emphasized Ken's slight
disadvantage in height.
Standing so
close, Margery seemed like a vision in a dream, a pure fairy angel, hovering
nearby in her ravishing underclothes. Because Ken rarely saw Margery in a state
of undress, the sexiness of her intimate attire excited him all
the more intensely.
Ken's mouth
grew dry as he gazed at her. It took nearly all of his
strength to keep his knees from buckling. As if it had a mind of its own, Ken's
outsized penis began to rise and stiffen. Mortified, Ken blushed a scarlet red.
To an
inexperienced youth like Ken, his Aunt Margery constituted an overpowering
presence. She was fully in control and Ken never even considered the
possibility of disobeying her.
Reaching out,
she drew the waistband of his underpants down and took his penis in her strong
right hand, slowly stroking him.
Ken gasped in
surprise and cast his glance down and away. He couldn't bring himself to look
at her, as he was too embarrassed. His penis, on the other hand, responded with
enthusiasm.
"Look at me,
Kenneth," Aunt Margery said, in a low, compelling voice. "I want you to look at
me!"
Ken's eyes
rose, pausing at the sharply pointed satin cups encasing Margery's breasts.
Then, with one supreme effort, Ken brought his gaze level with Margery's.
The heady
fragrance of Margery's magnificent breasts filled Ken's nostrils in the close
confines of the bathroom. Sensory input invaded the complex contours of Ken's
brain, swiftly encouraging reproductive readiness. In seconds, his swelling
penis was at maximum pressure.
Ken had always
been fascinated by Margery. One night after his mother took Margery as a lover,
a twelve year old Ken stumbled into his mother's bedroom. A thunderstorm had
frightened the timid lad from his bed.
Shocked but
intrigued, Ken watched them making love, Margery and
his mother Miriam, soundlessly but with great intensity. The two were locked in
what is popularly known as the "69" position, with Margery below.
A bedside lamp
on the nightstand revealed everything to the impressionable youth. Rubbing his
eyes, Ken observed for several minutes, fascinated by what they were doing. His
mother could not see Ken, as her silver-haired head faced away from him, her
tongue busy in Margery's trim, blond gash.
Ken recalled
with pleasure briefly seeing the triangle of golden hair surrounding the narrow
slit at Margery's center. His mother's tongue circled it round and round,
teasing Margery's clitoris. Ken remembered wishing it were he, not his mother,
whose tongue was attending Margery's inviting bud. While he looked, Margery
turned her head and saw Ken. For a brief, fleeting moment their eyes met.
Margery smiled and winked, almost imperceptibly.
Suddenly
feeling quite ashamed, Ken raced back to his room. There in the darkness, as
the storm thundered outside, Ken feverishly frigged his juvenile penis until he
fell into a restless, fitful slumber.
Since that
memorable night, Margery bewitched Ken with her beauty and personal charisma.
He often fantasized about marrying Margery when he grew up. The difference in
their ages made no difference as far as he was concerned. After puberty
arrived, Ken knew his dream was impossible but still he continued to adore her.
And right now
the woman of his dreams, Aunt Margery, stood right in front of him, stroking
his penis! Could it be happening? Could it really be happening?
"Tell me the
truth, Kenneth," Margery said, "were you playing with yourself in here this
morning?"
Ken's mouth
fell open in alarm.
"No," he lied.
Margery raised
her clipped blond eyebrows, obviously doubting his truthfulness. She put her
left hand on her hip.
"Your mother
asked me to supervise you this morning, to make sure you are properly settled
before you leave for school."
"Properly
settled?" Ken said. "What do you mean by that, Aunt Margery?"
Margery
laughed merrily. "You're going to need regular sexual relief because you are
going to be around young girls at college, Kenneth. Young girls.
They can be tremendously promiscuous."
"Shoot, I don't
go in much for girls," Ken said, bravely. "I try to avoid them."
Margery
sighed. "Kenneth, it is one thing for you to be at home with us, your mother
and myself, where we can keep an eye on you. It is an entirely different matter
for you to go out in the world, exposed to heaven knows what. Your mother is
concerned that you might end up in the clutches of some slutty
college girl with low morals and substandard personal hygiene. It's been known
to happen to sheltered young fellows like yourself."
"But Aunt
Margery," Ken said, "must I masturbate right now, in front of you?"
"Really
Kenneth," Margery said impatiently, "why do you think I'm dressed like this? I'm
here to help you. Now turn around and face the sink."
Because he was
accustomed to being told what to do, by a woman particularly, Ken did as
Margery said. As he faced the sink, Margery moved behind him, still holding his
penis. Her left hand went between his legs from behind, cupping and confining
his testicles.
"It isn't
morally right for a boy's mother to handle him in this manner," Margery said,
as she caressed his genitals. "Under our state's laws, consenting adults,
meaning anyone eighteen or older, are free to have sexual relations with each
other. Of course, you may not marry anyone who is directly related to you in
your primary family. The taboo forbidding incest is strong, and exists for good
reasons. Many an idiot has been born of incest. You are very fortunate, my dear
Kenneth, to have a woman in the home who can skillfully relieve your burgeoning
sexual desires."
Margery
tightly gripped his penis, bringing it over the sink. Slowly, she ran her sharp
red fingernails up and down its length, a caress that sent Ken's pleasure
sensors plunging headlong into the red zone.
"Oh, Aunt
Margery!" Ken said. "Ooouuuuhh!"
Margery deftly
retracted the foreskin, revealing the red, bulging head, corona, and frenum.
Ken's organ reared up like a bucking bronco, the knob at top as big and shiny
as a Yakima Valley plum.
"Your big
stiffy is quite attractive, Kenneth," Margery said, releasing him momentarily.
She smeared a dollop of lubricant on her hands before taking hold of him again.
"You'll make some lucky woman an excellent husband."
The motion of
the lotion on his penis was thrilling. Ken tried to say something, but no words
came out. Margery quickly finished slathering him with a fragrant lube gel and
again began fondling him with her strong right hand.
"Into the
sink, Kenneth," Margery said. "I want you to ejaculate. Let's see you expel
those male juices you've got stored up inside you."
Ken thrust his
pelvis in a rhythm matching the caress of Margery's strong, long - fingered
hand. Her brightly painted red nails slid up and down, up
and down, as Ken's mouth went slack and his eyes closed in absolute rapture.
"Oooooooh..." Ken emitted a long, blissful groan.
As his climax
neared, Margery forced Ken's legs apart, sending the well - lubed middle
finger of her left hand into his rectum. Ken's body jerked as her middle digit
wormed inside, pressing his prostate gland.