The Frea

The Freak

The shop manager slowly pushed open the cubicle door to reveal Ralph's final moments of ecstasy; sat as he was, crouched on the toilet seat, pants and boxers pooled carelessly around his shoes, one hand clenched around his bulging, darkly haired ball sack, the other hand a white knuckled fist beating out the final few powerful strokes on his ridiculously large cock.

The eighteen year old's eyes were screwed tight shut behind his heavy, black framed spectacles, as he pumped his forearm furiously. The teenager's wrist action becoming suddenly erratic, his lips curling back from tightly clenched teeth, his breath coming in sharp, tight rasps, as the desperately needed climax finally burst forth.

Ralph lurched spasmodically up from the toilet to aim his cock into the adjacent, small hand basin. The youth grunted loudly from the bottom of his gut, as the thick jets of hot semen splattered one after another into the waiting bowl.

Ralph's orgasm continued to rip through him and began to make his slender thighs shake. The desperate teen released his grip on his ball sack to plant his left hand and sweat dampened forehead against the cubicle wall for support, all the time continuing to furiously pump his rock hard cock into the waiting basin.

Ralph's heated breathing sounded hoarse and almost tortured in the confined space, as his groin continued to be wracked with shuddering, twitching pleasure.

As the final few jets of seed were ejected, Ralph slowly became aware of the recently opened door and with the hair beginning to prickle at the back of his neck, slowly turned his face to meet the staring wide blue eyes of the most recent cause of is ardour - Miss Emily Brandt - his boss!

Ralph only had a brief moment to register the horrified, twisted expression of disgust marring Miss Brandt's pretty, forty-something face, as she staggered backward. The mature beauty's hand came up reflexively to clutch at the neck of her white blouse. The golden crucifix which normally nestled in the hypnotically deep, pale valley of her cleavage now glinting accusingly between her clenched fingers.

Ralph's mouth fell open as he slowly straightened up, a strangled croak all he could manage as the final paroxims of his climax rattled through him. Ralph's eyes moved helplessly down from Miss Brandt's appalled expression to rake across her taught, wide bosom.

Ralph's croak of shock turned into a lust filled groan, as his fist again began to jack up and down at the sight of Miss Brandt's overfilled, heavily stitched lace bra cups and wide elasticated bra straps. All of it far too easily visible through the thin, sheer white blouse.

Ralph's eyes became two narrow slits as he helplessly thrust out his pelvis and shot out one last arcing jet of thick, teenage seed to land front and centre on Miss Brandt's black skirt, just below the swell of her gently curving belly and directly over her crotch.

The finally spent Ralph dropped back down onto the toilet, his narrow chest heaving, skinny legs splayed wide, his fist still helplessly kneading the length of his slowly softening cock, as Miss Brandt turned and headed for the door.

Ralph sagged back against the cold cistern and watched Miss Brandt's heart shaped buttocks wobble frantically out of the male staff toilet. Incredibly, the eighteen year old's well wrung cock began to re-stiffen at the hypnotic sight of the slightly too tight, slightly too short skirt. The expensive dark seamed stockings and finally, the delicious sound of the mature woman's black patent stilettos clattering on the tiled floor as she fled.

"Honestly, Greta, I really am at my wits end".

Ralph's aunt whined feebly, nervously perched on the edge of a chair, in the lounge of a woman she barely knew, but hoped desperately might agree to help her.

"The boy is cutting his college classes, his grades are in the gutter and now...", Ralph's aunt gave a heartfelt shudder, "he's been fired from his weekend job at the shoe shop in the mall and, and..."

"And" Greta prompted gently after a long pause.

Ralph's aunt squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, its all this filthy self-abuse and stuff he's doing!"

Greta tried not to laugh out loud at the unexpected words.

"Well now, Susan, if I understand what you mean by self-abuse, all teenage boys masturbate from time-to-time, some of them quite excessively. It's all part of puberty; growing up, developing their sexuality and so on".

"Yes I know all that, but it's a lot more than from time-to-time... And!" Susan shuddered again, finally gasping out, "Ralph exposed himself at work."

"What, in the shoe shop?" Greta gasped, genuinely surprised.

"No, no, not on the shop floor, thank the Lord," whispered Susan, her cheeks flushing. "In the men's toilet. The manageress caught him in there, you know... relieving himself... umm, sexually."

"What was she doing in the men's toilet", asked Greta, once again fighting back her mirth.

"Looking for Ralph!" Susan squeaked miserably. "Apparently, he spent lots of time in there when he should have been selling shoes, stacking shelves, or whatever they paid the dirty little monkey for," Susan said miserably. "Anyway, she won't have him back. She telephoned me straight afterward and said he was a danger to her female customers and that he was fired."

"I'm not surprised," said Greta, as straight faced as she could manage. "He must have given her quite a turn, poor thing."

"Yes, she sounded quite excited on the telephone. It was all I could do to persuade her not to call the Police! Anyhow, she agreed not to make any trouble for Ralph providing he never sets foot in the shop again."

Susan's face became even more disapproving. "So now he has no weekend job, no money and spends even more time sulking in his bedroom with the curtains closed."

"Does he masturbate much at home?" Greta asked, secretly enjoying the look of disgust that immediately swept across the other woman's face.

"Oh my God! Yes! He gets through boxes and boxes of tissues."

"Better than him doing it all over your clean bed linen I suppose." Greta couldn't resist teasing.

"That's why I had to start buying the tissues." Susan said, once again twisting her mouth in disgust. "His sheets were a complete mess."

"How old is Ralph now," Greta asked.

"He had his eighteenth three months back," Susan replied sharply, "well old enough to start acting like a grown up rather than a silly little boy."

Ralph's aunt put her face in her hands and started to sob. "I really can't stand this sort of thing you know - all this perverted behaviour. I never had children of my own, or anything like this from his late uncle -- God rest his soul -- and I must say, I'm beginning to detest the sight of him."

Greta wondered what else she could say. Susan was not what she would call a close friend, more of a friend of a friend really. In fact Greta had been a little surprised when Susan telephoned quite out of the blue the previous evening and asked if she could come over for a chat.

Greta went to the drinks cabinet and poured two glasses of sherry, one much larger than the other. Greta wondered how she could politely get rid of Susan and her ridiculous tale of prudery.

For heaven's sake, all teenage boys wanked themselves daft until they discovered girls were a better option. Didn't the silly woman know that? Greta handed the double measure to Susan with a reassuring smile and took a small sip from her own glass.

Susan mopped her face with her handkerchief and took a big sip of sherry. "I suppose its got something to do with his size," she whispered over the rim of her glass.

Greta took another small sip to cover her confusion before asking, "his size?"

Susan nodded slowly. "The manageress, Miss Brandt, she said Ralph was some sort of a sex freak because of how big he is down there."

All of a sudden Greta's heretofore nonexistent interest in Susan's nephew's sexual problems began to stir. "Good gracious, whatever did she see to make her think that?" Greta asked cautiously.

Ralph's aunt took another large sip of her sherry.

"Well, he was always big down there," she said beginning to squirm in her seat again. "Shortly after he came to stay with me last year, you know, after his mother and father died in that awful accident, he got a really bad case of sunstroke mowing the lawn and the doctor and I had to put him into a freezing cold bath to get his temperature down."

Susan took another sip.

"Well, that was when I saw it."

Greta almost wanted to scream, but instead simply raised her eyebrows.

Susan took another sip of sherry.

"Even soft it was halfway down his thigh... and his other bits... monstrous too". Its just as well he wears those awful baggy jeans all the time. God only knows what happens when..."

Susan looked like she was going to tear-up again.

"That's what Miss Brandt at the shop must have meant about him being a freak. Because she would have seen it fully, you know... when he was actually doing it."

Greta decided she was suddenly very interested in Ralph's sexual 'problems' and thought she was beginning to realise why Susan had come to her for advice.

"Is there something specific you think I can do to help?" Greta asked gently.

Ralph's aunt took a deep breath. "Well, I was thinking, especially after this thing at the shoe shop happening, perhaps Ralph needs some counselling advice... about sex and stuff."

Greta nodded her understanding. "And you wondered if I could suggest someone best qualified to help with that?"

"Not entirely." Susan began to twist her hankie in her hands. "I've been doing some research and sexual therapies seem to be a special sort of thing and cost a great deal of money, and, well, frankly, I'm not in a position to pay for what might be a long, drawn out course of treatment."

Greta played dumb with quizzically raised eyebrows. "And so?"

"And so... I was wondering if you, being a qualified teacher and a school counsellor and all." Susan left the part-stated request hanging awkwardly.

Greta slowly sipped the last of her sherry and pretended to consider carefully.

"Well, I no longer teach classes and my experience as a school counsellor is somewhat limited with regard to sexual matters," she began hesitantly, "and I think from what you've told me about Ralph, well, he may indeed need some long-term specialist help. All of which, as you've said yourself can end up costing a great deal of money".

"I'd be really grateful for anything you could do." Susan's voice was once again approaching an irritating whine.

Greta smiled gently and strove to look unconvinced as she rose to take the empty glasses to the kitchen. Given this unexpected information about Ralph's apparent freakish endowment, Greta had already decided to at least meet with the boy, but did not want to appear too keen to his silly, pathetic aunt. Not least because the cheeky bitch was expecting her to provide complex professional services pro-bono!

On top of that, Greta needed to see the young man in the flesh so-to-speak, to see if he was worth bothering with. After all, Ralph might be a fat, painfully ugly, buck-toothed, greasy little creep and that would never do -- well-hung or not!

Greta smiled to herself as she re-entered the lounge, suddenly realised a way of killing two birds with one stone.

"Why don't you send Ralph over here on Saturday morning," Greta told Susan brightly. "I'll put Ralph to work in the garden, fence painting, or some such thing and get to know him that way to start with. Without him feeling any pressure and it'll put a little cash in his pocket too. Afterwards, well, you and I can talk about what the best way forward might be."

Susan nodded excitedly, "oh yes, that would be marvellous. I'll send him over early on Saturday morning. Ralph uses his late Father's old pick-up truck. Its an old wreck really and belches out clouds of horrible black smoke, but it goes well enough and Ralph seems happy with it."

Later that afternoon Greta had a slow drive over to the mall to pick-up some fence paint and a brush, as well as some bits and bobs for a barbecue -- just in case Ralph proved to be someone she might not mind too much having lunch with.

While she was there Greta couldn't resist the opportunity of visiting the shoe shop managed by a certain Miss Emily Brandt. Being a well dressed woman of obvious taste and discernment, Greta attracted Miss Brandt's personal attention from the moment she entered the shop.

The two women spent a pleasant half hour talking footwear fashion of all types and Greta more than satisfied Miss Brandt's highly polished sales efforts by eventually purchasing a very elegant, not to mention very expensive pair of high heeled sandals.

Whilst chatting and trying on various items, Greta studied Miss Brandt discreetly, noting the undoubtedly handsome, carefully made-up face, which must only a few brief years ago have been quite beautiful.

Miss Brandt wore her expensively bleached platinum blonde hair pulled back severely into a tight bun, which, added to her business like look. Greta also noted, as the wretched Ralph had no doubt done before her, the slightly too tight, slightly too short skirt, the diaphanous white blouse, which, completely failed to hide two well packed, heavily patterned bra cups and the deep, creamy cleavage with its dangling gold crucifix.

Miss Brandt also wore a heavy gold bracelet, several rings with good sized stones on her long fingers with their professionally applied right red nail polish. Miss Brandt also sported a fine gold ankle bracelet over the top of her right stocking. Stockings which, as she walked back and forth to the storeroom, Greta noted had seams running up the backs like those favoured by French black & white movie femme fatales.

To cap it all off, Miss Brandt favoured slightly too much of a heavy, somewhat cloying, albeit costly perfume that threatened to pervade the whole shop floor.

All-in-all, Greta's impression was that of a handsome woman in her mid to late forties who tried very hard to appear well groomed and sexy without falling into the trap so many fading, former wanna-be beauties did - that of looking like a completely overdone trollop.

Greta noticed one other interesting thing about Miss Brandt's shoe shop; of the two shop assistants on duty that day, both were nice looking, slender males in their late teenage, or perhaps very early twenties.

As it was very nearly closing time and on a whim born out of an extremely suspicious mind, Greta took a seat in the window of a coffee shop further along the mall which afforded her a clear view of Miss Brandt's premises.

Shortly after five, the darker of the two male assistants made his exit for the afternoon, with his blonde haired colleague locking the door behind him and then putting out the shop lights.

Despite the sudden darkness within, Greta thought she could clearly make out the figures of Miss Brandt and her remaining assistant retreating into the rear of the shop in the undoubted direction of the stock room.

Ten minutes later, Miss Brandt and her young assistant left the shop, smiling and waving briefly to each other like any two shop workers might, before strolling off in different directions. And all a little too nonchalantly, or so it seemed to the watchful Greta.

Greta followed Miss Brandt at a safe distance out into the car park where the manageress dropped her lavish rump into a bright red two-seater sports. A somewhat garish choice of colour for a lady in her forties Greta thought with a smirk, but totally in keeping with Miss Brandt's nail equally garish nail polish.

By chance, Greta was parked only yards away and was easily able to follow Miss Brandt unseen out onto the main road running behind the mall. About a quarter mile along the road the red sports pulled into a bus stop and the young blonde assistant that Miss Brandt had only five minutes ago waved goodbye to, stepped out of the bushes and slipped quickly into the passenger seat.

"Gotcha!" breathed Greta happily, quickly scribbling down the little car's number plate. "I just had a feeling about you two!"

Greta followed her quarry across town to a small trailer park into which the red sports disappeared. Greta gave the pair five minutes to get to whichever plot they were going to and slowly drove in after them. It was a matter of moments before Greta spotted the red sports parked up beside a trailer at the rear of the park.

Given it was late afternoon, there were a fair few people, young and old, wandering about and more than a few sunbathing on their doorsteps.

Greta's Lexus was immediately noticed by the unshaven, beer-gut and bare belly booty brigade and so Greta decided it was definitely not safe to go snooping around on foot. Instead, Greta chanced one slow drive-by, turning her head this way and that so as to make it look as if she could be looking at any random plot.

As she rolled slowly past the particular trailer she was interested in, Greta caught sight of a well manicured, bejewelled hand appearing briefly at what was clearly one of the trailer's small bedroom windows. Miss Brandt's long fingers with their bright red nail polish tugging the cheap curtain material fully closed.

Clearly, Miss Brandt valued her privacy, although Greta very much doubted if any of the ever watchful beer-guts and bare bellies had the slightest doubt what she was there for.

To be continued if there is sufficient interest.