XV
"I was the first"
After work I hurried to meet Alicia. I was ten minutes early but she was already there. As I saw her, I felt a pang of conscience. She was so young, so pretty, so innocent, so wholly unaware of what was happening to her. And I, instead of looking after her and protecting her, was planning to take her home and fuck her and keep on fucking her to my cock's content. But, I reflected, it was pointless to think this way: my experience with Fran had shown that Uncle Albert's invention was not be denied. Then Alicia stood up to greet me and I saw those wonderful boobs of hers, and any qualms were swept aside in a surge of lust.
As I talked to Alicia I realised how FUCK affected different women in different ways. They all, of course, became besotted with me but somehow their various personalities still shone through. Alicia, I guessed, might have been a little impressionable even before FUCK got to her because it seemed to have affected her more than anyone. She hung on my every word and those great blue eyes never left me for a moment. They widened even more when I told her my wife and I were thinking of taking a lodger and I thought she might be interested. I could see she was trying to think how this would work, and what my wife would have to say about it, but she was clearly overwhelmed at the thought of closer proximity to me and was not able to formulate any sensible questions.
"It will be all right, Alicia," I promised her. "Trust me. Any worrying that needs to be done, I'll attend to."
She seemed much happier after this. "Oh, James," she sighed, "I feel so safe and happy when I'm with you."
I thought to myself, "If she's like this before sex, what's she going to be like after it?"
We put on our coats and walked to the tube under louring skies. The threatened storms were clearly imminent; I was glad I had asked Wendy to pick us up when we got to my station. Alicia seemed so distracted that I let her sit next to me on the train (I was afraid she might get off at the wrong station otherwise) and I had to endure curious looks from other travellers as this lovely girl gazed raptly at her middle-aged companion. Asking her to stop had the effect of making her look elsewhere for maybe fifteen seconds before her eyes settled on me again.
I was desperate for her by now. The hair, the eyes, that little nose, those huge tits, and the way she looked at me were an irresistible combination.
By the time we approached my station the thunderstorm was in full swing. Wendy was waiting at the ticket barrier; I introduced Alicia briefly and in sheeting rain we ran to the car, with excited laughter from the two women. As Wendy drove the short distance home, I sat next to her in the front and Alicia sat quietly in the back, never looking away from me.
The rain was unrelenting. When we got home I got soaked in the moment or two it took me to leave the car and open the garage door. Alicia ran for the shelter of the front porch and I was about to do the same when Wendy, still straightening the car, hissed delightedly to me, "James! She's not pretty; she's
absolutely lovely
!"
I ran to the front door and unlocked it. I followed Alicia in, Wendy hurrying behind. I hastily doffed my coat and turned to Alicia, still dripping in the hall. "Here," I said, "let's get those wet things upstairs. I'll put them in the spare room." With that I took her gently but firmly by the arm and led her up the stairs, still in her raincoat and hat. She came meekly. If she thought it odd to be taken upstairs within seconds of arrival, she gave no sign. Wendy, however, gave me a sharp knowing look and I mouthed back at her, "I can't wait."
I took Alicia to the spare room. It was quite large, not much smaller than the main bedroom, and Wendy had found time from cooking dinner to remove the odds and ends that had found their way there and generally spruce it up. It looked warm and inviting. "This would be your room," I told her, "if you came to lodge here."
Only now, I think, did she fully take it in that she had been escorted to a bedroom. She looked surprised, nervous, expectant, and a little scared. "Let's get rid of these wet things," I said.
First I took her hat and hung it on the door; then her coat. She dropped her hands behind her back to allow me to remove it easily. Then, trying to act as if this were the most natural thing in the world, I gently raised her arms above her head and began to remove her teeshirt. She did not resist. Her eyes gazed up at mine: fear was there; bewilderment too; but also, unmistakably, desire. I lifted her shirt up and over her head to expose those extraordinary breasts, held by an underwired white bra, that were so hugely out of proportion on a girl of only eighteen and small for her age.
"James, your wife ..." she whispered nervously.
I concluded the sentence: "... is a wonderfully understanding lady."
Alicia seemed to be paralysed. I leant forward to undo the buttons of her cheesecloth skirt and it fell to the floor. Then I reached for the fastening of her bra and felt the weight of those mammoth orbs as the clasp came undone and they fell free. As I slipped the bra off I thought she was trying to speak but no sound came. I teased the knickers gently off her hips and they joined the skirt on the floor. She stood there, trembling a little, still flecked with rainwater, naked before me. I was astonished at the flawlessness of her pale skin; she looked like marble, only soft and yielding. She seemed oblivious of the storm raging outside, but the thunder and lightning made me feel there was something almost diabolical about the control I had over her. She was in my power, utterly mine, to do with as I would.
I gently eased her onto the bed, laying her down full length on her back, and hurriedly removed my own clothes. My cock, of course, was huge by now and I had come to expect a gasp of lustful wonder when I set it free. But Alicia did not respond; in fact, I realised, she was no longer looking at me. Instead she gazed blankly at the ceiling. I looked at her, concerned. There was still fear in her eyes but also a desperate, yearning eagerness for whatever was to come. And her lips were moving. She was muttering something over and over again in a voice so quiet that I could not catch the words over the sound of the rain lashing down outside.
I moved her legs apart so I could lie between them. Tenderly I ran my fingertips over those breasts. She gave a little gasp of pleasure as she felt my touch. Then I explored them with my lips, applying only a featherlight contact as I lovingly followed their glorious contours. I drew myself up so my face was close to hers. She was still muttering. I could hear the words now: "... I'm with James ... I'm with James ... I'm with James ..." she breathed as if in awe and wonder.