Chapter 10: Nara and Breeze - Making babies

I asked, “Will the Mistress be coming back?”

She said, “She is scheduled to be at a dinner business meeting until after 9:00 tonight. It would not matter; she is kinky enough to want to watch you do the deed.”

I had seen Breeze Clarkenton a couple of times. She is tall and built like a rich, successful bathing suit model.

Windy’s father must be 5’ 2” tall and 90 pounds because Windy is quite petite by comparison to her mother. Breeze is tall and statuesque.

I said, “Where am I going?” I felt my balls draw up thinking about new pussy. I think the machinery down there is gearing up.

Mara said, “My room is upstairs in the back? The bed is a single, but that should not be a problem.”

I followed her to the back of the house, to an area I hadn’t seen. She opened a narrow closet door, and I saw steps, narrow steps with higher-than-normal risers. There are two handrails, which I used mounting the stairs looking up at her tight little ass in a bright lemon-yellow Tanga.

I want to bite her bare bum cheeks. She has slender thighs and her legs look long because of her slender build.

The gusset of her Tanga is damp, and I am catching a whiff of her. It is not a sweet smell; it is a primal, needy scent. Her calendar may say tomorrow, but I think her lady parts are saying it’s time right now.

We entered a short, narrow hallway with four doors. She took me to one at the end and opened it.

She said, “We are the only ones in this part of the house tonight. This is servants’ territory. The housemaid is married and lives with her husband and children.”

By now, she had dropped her blouse, which she hadn’t put back on, onto a dresser. She kicked off her white leather sandals and shimmied her skirt and Tanga off. As she turned, she looked right at my cock, which was at a 60-degree upward angle. My balls tightened in early anticipation.

I had dropped my boyshorts when she put her blouse on her dresser. I had carried them upstairs with me.

I had left my sandals in the library.

She came to me, arms out for a hug. I gently took her in my arms, and she sagged right against me.

Her nervousness seemed odd.

I shifted my cock comfortably between us. She was trembling. Is it in anticipation?

I leaned in close to her mouth as a hint, and she pressed her lips gently to mine. We kept the first three kisses soft baby kisses. Hmm, baby kisses might be too appropriate a term.

I wet my lips, and the next kiss lasted several minutes as we slid our lips together. I waited at least five minutes before using my tongue. I had been caressing her back and flanks, being non-aggressive. I’m beginning to think I have a virgin on my hands. She may be the last 19- or 20-year-old virgin in town.

By now my hands had dropped to her firm bum, and I was figuring out her bum’s shape. She is not avoiding my cock. She had grown used to it. I moved her towards the bed and managed to get her to sit. I slid to the floor and opened her thighs so I could see her vulva. As expected, it was completely bald and smooth, like Windy’s had been earlier.

I started kissing her inner thighs. Seeing I was not going to pounce on her and bang away at her painfully. She started to relax. I found she was indeed a virgin. I ran my hands up over her tummy and realized I had to ask to touch her there downstairs. But that got lost now.

I ran my hands back down to her thighs as I took a closer smell of her opening. She has a modest slit. Her labia have not quite swollen up yet, and her inner lips are mostly hidden.

Opening her legs a little, I see enough to tell her hymen better; it’s intact, all right. How is that possible at her age, and here?

The odd part is, this is the very first hymen I have ever seen in either of my lives. I thought it might be a fable. I have never looked at a child’s parts, not open anyway. That’s sick, and I have rarely changed a diaper.

In any case, I had never seen one before.

In my previous life’s teen years, girls were very reticent to “go all the way.” The pill had existed, but no respectable doctor would prescribe “the pill” for a teenage girl. Almost all doctors at the time were male; in the South, they were conservative, and most were churchgoers.

I knew about rubbers but knew the druggist would give you a hard time. They were in gas station men’s rooms, but I didn’t trust something that came from a machine in a filthy men’s restroom. Clean gas station men’s rooms do not have rubber machines. If you get an old rubber, it may be bad.