The Accumulator

Author's Note:

In every generation there surely must be young women whose natural sexuality is affected by ignorance or their circumstances -- or both. This would have been particularly true in the days before the Internet, which has, for all its faults, allowed people to learn of things that might otherwise not be spoken of.

'The Accumulator'

is a fanciful tale of such a girl, who discovers her mojo and much more with the help of a fraudulent inventor.

It is, of course, a work of fiction and the characters within it, except for Wilhelm Reich, are entirely the product of my imagination -- so if you think you know them, you don't! And yes, everyone in this story engaged in sexual activity is over the age of 18.

Hot_Sister.

***

THE ACCUMULATOR

September 1941

Stanley Greenhough carefully tightened the final screw in the new device, wiped his hands on an oily rag and stood back to admire his work. The cabinet stood before him, its lacquered surface gleaming under the garage lights and its brass fittings shining like strips of burnished gold on every edge. The inlaid tortoiseshell parquetry oozed expensive grandeur and the squat legs gave it a curiously old fashioned appearance, rather like the cabinets of the Victorian period, but he didn't mind. If anything, it gave the device an air of respectability -- something Millie would trust, for he knew she was an old-fashioned girl at heart.

The thought of Millie sent Stanley's mind racing and he sat down on the nearby bench to contemplate her. Millicent Anastasia Brown, his next-door neighbour. A trim girl of nineteen years...no, twenty. A shy, retiring girl who wore her clothes long to better hide her sleek limbs from lustful gaze. Stanley had never seen her limbs, but he had peeped at her trim ankles as she sat beside him from time to time, and he had seen the smooth pale skin of her wrists at the point they disappeared into the sleeves of whatever dress she was wearing. Her wrists and ankles were the stuff of his dreams, for they hinted at what lay beyond them. A long way beyond, it was true, but Stanley could envisage those forbidden treasures and although it seemed unlikely, he had resolved to possess them.

The question was, how? Millie's mother was a formidable woman in both temperament and stature. Aside from her physical size, which was considerable, she was the owner of a sharp tongue and a pair of icy blue eyes that seemed to perceive every impure thought in his heart. The woman was always there when Stanley called on her daughter, so finding time alone with Millie was difficult enough: but when he did, he seemed so shy and tongue-tied that any progress towards intimacy was glacially slow.

Stan groaned inwardly as he remembered the last time they had snatched a few moments together, sitting on the verandah of her house sipping lemonade. Millie looked especially delicious in a dress of white muslin with blue trimmings, her perfect little oval face peeping from beneath the chic beret and her eyes filled with life and laughter. Mrs. Brown -- Maude, although he could never call her that -- had retired inside for a few moments and he had seized the opportunity to tell the girl of his undying love.

"Millie -" he started. He lifted his hand as if to seize hers, but it fluttered unbidden to his lap instead.

"Yes Stanley?" She turned to look at him, those wondrous blue eyes windows into her soul. The words he had so carefully prepared fled in an instant to be replaced by an empty void. He stared at her silently.

"Yes, Stanley?" she repeated at length.

"I er...um...well, I - I wanted to tell you I hold you in high regard."

Millie's face lit up in a smile of unimaginable beauty, and Stanley's mind twisted into an even tighter knot of confusion. He had planned to use simple language -- to tell her he was hopelessly in love with her, and he dreamed of her every night and every waking minute of each day.

"Well, that's very kind of you Stanley," she said. "I hold you in similar regard. In fact - her eyelashes fluttered briefly -- "you are my very best friend."

Stanley didn't want to be her friend. He wanted to kiss those full, rosy lips, to feel her hot breath against his cheek as he drew his tongue over the soft, white flesh of her neck. He wanted to lift those voluminous petticoats to bury his face between her ivory thighs -- to ravish her trembling body. He imagined the little gasps of pleasure she would emit with every long, trembling stroke into her soft, subservient core, and the words she would whisper, urging him on -

"Stanley?" she was regarding him, her face creased in concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, Mille. I'm sorry...I just -- thought of something."

"You turned quite red in the face."

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking." He paused, his mind imaging the horror she would feel had she guessed his imaginings. "I was thinking...well, perhaps I might take you out one evening." His eyes flickered to hers for a moment, judging the impact of his words. "Perhaps to a show, or for a dinner somewhere? We could be home by eight, so it would not be late. Do you think your mother might agree?"

Mille stared at the young man before her. She had seen that expression before: a longing for her as one might desire a puppy or an exquisite china doll of flawless porcelain. He was so shy and staid. Didn't he know that beneath this virginal dress her heart ached for someone to rescue her from the cloying life she led? To bring vitality and excitement to the long, dull days she spent under the suffocating presence of her mother? Clearly he did not, and she sighed inwardly. Stanley was the most eligible young man she knew, but he was so timid.

"Well you should ask her, Stanley," she replied primly. A man who could not even stand up to her mother was hardly likely to bring the things she longed to do.

"I -- uh, I will," he said, wretchedly. He could see she didn't like the idea of going out with him. Poor Millie. She was filled with virtuosity and he despaired of ever seeing her knees, yet alone the delicious little cleft he dreamed of each night. "I will ask her at the earliest opportunity."

But he hadn't. Maude Brown had sailed out onto the verandah like a battleship and he had crept home not long after with a mumbled goodbye to Millie and an aching groin. He had not seen anything more that afternoon than he had at any other time, but just being near her was enough to fill him with lust. He had hurried back to the bathroom of his house and relieved himself, imagining the thick ropes of sperm leaping from the eye of his cock was hosing her insides instead of splattering in the basin before him.

This state of affairs might have gone on forever but for a chance advertisement he had seen in the National Chronicle a few days later. It was a small column, lurking towards the back of the newspaper as if hiding, but the moment he saw it he knew his prayers might now be answered. He recalled its words:

Energy Accumulator for Sale!

A rare opportunity to own a custom machine to enrich your life. Guaranteed to improve your health, attract ladies and promote tenderness through potency. Apply to Dr. Wilhelm Reich, 71 Queens Avenue, New York...

He had called Doctor Reich the following day and, having been assured it would do what he desired, he ordered the machine the next. It had consumed his entire savings but he thought it worth it. And now here it was, newly assembled and gleaming in his garage like a grand privy, ready to do its work.

Stanley picked up the instruction manual and his eyes flicked over the description of his new machine, settling on the paragraph that most interested him:

The combination of organic and metal materials in the construction of your Accumulator is certain to harness the natural energy occurring in our atmosphere. Once captured, you can influence its purpose by means of the crystalline lining. You may choose, for example, to use the energy to cure an ailment, improve your well-being, or, most particularly, to influence both desire and potency in both the male and the feminine form.

The reference to influencing different things worried Stanley a little. He had searched the manual to discover how he might do this, but there was nothing at all to explain it. He understood the layers of metal and wood trapped the energy and the crystalline lining stored it, but how could it be directed? Perhaps the energy, once captured, would open some sort of connection? Perhaps it would infuse him, rather like alcohol, to further boost his potency. But he knew it was not

his

desire that needed boosting, but Millie's -- and there was only one seat in the device. So how was he to persuade her to use it? And even if she did, how was the energy ever going to be strong enough to overcome her chaste upbringing?

Stanley set the manual down on the workbench with a sinking feeling in his belly. He'd been confident when he bought the machine but now he saw there were still problems to be overcome, and he wasn't at all sure Millie would go anywhere near it if she knew its true purpose. He needed to think of a way to get her inside it, and once there, how to get inside her.

***

Millicent Brown had been brought up chaste, that was for sure, but it did not stop her from being curious, and although her mother strictly forbade any mention of sex she had another ready source of information far more interesting -- from her friend, Nancy Philpott.

Nan was the first of their group to be married and had produced a baby boy not long after, although everyone was too polite to point out the obvious. She was lonely because of it though, and sought out the company of her old friends at the Tea Room Café once a week.

They had gathered there two weeks ago and conversation had soon turned to the subject of "doing it", amongst much giggling and blushing. Millie was there, of course, and Susan, who was anxious to hear if her mother's views were correct; and Lucy and a few others.

"It hurts the first time," Nan had said in response to their question. "It's like -- well, trying to poke a rolling pin up your nose...you know, it brings tears to the eyes." She regarded the group around her. "But then you sort of get used to it and it gets easier. In fact -"

"I don't think I'd ever get used to having a rolling pin up my nose." Lucy interrupted. She was the prettiest girl there, with big brown eyes and perfect lips but she was not the sharpest knife in the drawer. "Besides, where did he get it from and why on earth would he do such a thing?"

Nan stared at her in astonishment. "It's just a way of trying to explain what it felt like, Luce," she said, "he didn't really have a rolling pin."

"Oh!" the girl looked crestfallen. "So what did he have?"

"Well, he had his

thing

...you know, although it looks about the size of a rolling pin when it's angry." She giggled briefly at the joke but stopped when she saw Lucy's confusion. "You do know about men's things?" she asked gently.

"I...uh...well, I think so."

Nan sighed. A year ago she had been like these girls, full of hope and bright-eyed anticipation, but she'd still fallen for oldest trick in the world. Billy had sworn he would pull out before cumming, and she'd believed him - and the thing was, she'd been brought up by liberal parents so should have understood the risks of mating. These girls didn't have a clue.

"Perhaps I'd better start at the beginning," she said, and proceeded to tell them exactly who did what to whom.

When she finished there was a stunned silence around the table. "Goodness!" Susan said at last. "That's not what my mother told me."

"Nor mine," piped up Jennifer. She was a tiny girl with an elfin face and the two words she'd just uttered were more than anybody had heard her speak before.

"Well, I can assure you it's true," Nan said primly. "And I have the proof -" she waved her hand at the infant sleeping beside her. "Little Henry there definitely wasn't brought by a stork -- and neither will the next one."

"You mean you plan to do it again? Lucy was aghast. "I would have thought once was enough for anybody."

Nan laughed. "Once you've done it once, it's lovely," she said, "like playing with your own Flossie but ten times better. And if you want to hang on to your man you'd better let him do it often, or he'll go looking elsewhere."

"But what about babies?" Millie asked. "I mean, you did it once Nan, and next thing you're expecting."

"Yes, well, it's a problem if you're not careful," Nancy said, "but you can do things to prevent them, you know."

"Really?" Millie was intrigued.

Nan nodded. "You can wait until your cycle, or get sheaths that the men put on their things. They're not easy to buy in this town but I know a place you can send away for them." She regarded her friend quizzically. "You're not thinking of doing it with someone, are you?"

The girl blushed. "Oh, no! Well, not yet. But I would like to know where to get them...you know, just in case I ever -" she stopped suddenly, aware of the sea of incredulous faces around the table. "Well, it's better to be prepared than sorry," she said defensively.

"You're quite right, Millie." Nan plucked a napkin off the table and scribbled on it for a moment. "Here's the address. They are eighty cents for a packet of five, but you shouldn't keep them for too long as the rubber perishes." She laughed lightly. "I would let you have one of Billy's, but we need them."

That night Millie carefully wrote two letters, which she posted in a nearby mailbox whilst her mother was having her afternoon nap. The first was to the address Nan had given her. The second was to a bookshop she'd read about in a racy magazine she'd found at school.

*

Harold Parsons, the owner of the little post office shop on the corner of Bellevue Street, looked up as the bell above the door tinkled.

He was a thin, middle aged man with thinning hair and a grey complexion. His mouth turned down at the edges, which, together with an angular face and prolific eyebrows gave him a disagreeable expression, rather like a disgruntled horse - but there was nothing wrong with his eyesight and he enjoyed the sight of a pretty girl as much as any man. The one approaching him now was all of that and more, and he watched her intently as she crossed the floor to the counter.

"Um, is there any mail for me, Mr. Parsons?" she asked demurely.

"I'm not sure, Millie. Were you expecting any?"

"I am. Two articles, in fact."

Harold turned to the shelf behind him and shuffled though the pigeonhole under the letter 'B'. Millie had been coming into the store for most of her life but he could never remember her looking so alluring, and he spent a few moments imagining what he would do to her if he had the chance. At length, he turned back with a small envelope of brown paper.

"I have one here, Millie, and a note to say the other is in the packing room if you would wait one moment."

The girl took the proffered package as if it contained a snake. She had no idea what a condom looked like, but she was acutely aware it was associated with what her mother described as ruination. Beneath the lace camisole she could feel her heart fluttering with the excitement of flirting with the forbidden.

"And here is the other one," Harold said. He set a larger package down on the counter and regarded the blushing girl before him. "I must say, Millie, I find it strange you have packages delivered here rather than to your home."

"They are for mother's birthday next month," Millie replied primly, glad she'd anticipated the question. "I didn't want to spoil the surprise, Mr. Parsons. You won't tell her I got them, will you?"

Harold Parsons stared into the cornflower blue eyes shining up at him and his resolve to speak sternly about wasting the Post Office's time fled in an instant. "Uh...no, no...not at all, Millie, if that's what you want," he stammered, "any time you want to send mail here, you just do it, d'hear?"

The girl smiled into his face. "It's very sweet of you, Mr. Parsons." She picked up the second parcel and tucked it under her arm. "You have a nice day then."

Harold watched her trim little body as she walked to the door and the thought struck him he could have a really nice day indeed if only she would share it with him.

*

Maude Brown was by nature loud, self-opinionated and hypocritical. The first two faults were obvious, since she wasted no opportunity in expressing exactly what she thought with the subtlety of a small cannon. The third was not so apparent as she took care to conceal her actions when they were contrary to what she preached.

She was practicing hypocrisy now as she ate the rampant cock of Roger Smith, a travelling salesman. They had only recently met but she had instantly recognised his type: married, but with a loose eye for women and confidence in his ability to pleasure them. She was also sure his name was not Roger Smith, but it didn't matter. She had no desire to broaden the relationship beyond the casual sex they both craved and couldn't have cared less what his real name was.

The fact that she constantly told her daughter relationships outside the sanctity of marriage were evil did not curb her enthusiasm, and she sucked the stiff organ with energy. His rod seemed to have grown even bigger and she contemplated whether to allow him to insert it inside her -- but it was her fertile time of the month. Besides, she always liked to test a man's emissions before she decided to let him go further or not.

The man suddenly grasped her head and began to thrust into her mouth. The head of his cock blocked her airway, but experience had taught her it would soon be over. Indeed, the noises he was making suggested he was very close and so she clung to his thighs and weathered the storm, delighting in the slippery ooze dribbling from her lips. His balls, encased in a baggy scrotum somewhat larger than she had ever seen, banged against her chin with soggy thumps and the sense of being used like a cheap whore filled her with lust. She wanted to tell him she was ready to take his load, to feel it blasting into her cheeks in long salty jets before she swallowed it all.

But she could not speak for her mouth was full, and so she thought instead of how she would lecture her daughter later that day on the dangers of loose morals, all the time remembering the taste of clotted sperm splashing on her tongue and the thought it lay in a milky puddle in her belly even as she spoke.

"I'm cumming!" the man said at last. His voice was thick with lust, barely more than a grunt as the delicious sensation seized his senses. He grasped her hair to restrain her further and thrust for a final time as deeply as he could. "I'm -- ah, Jesus! Here it comes..."

For a second he was motionless, his rod buried deep into her face, and then Maude felt it jerk as the first jet hosed into her throat. It was followed almost immediately by another, and then a third. Her mouth was instantly filled with the pungent flavour of his sperm, and she felt her cheeks distending with the volume of his emission. She tried to pull back but he held her tightly, whilst his cock jolted and twitched until his seed oozed from between her lips to hang in slimy strands.

At last he released her head and Maude pulled backwards quickly, her gullet filled with his cum. It was thick and glutinous and she could hardly breathe, and she coughed violently in an effort to catch her breath. A spray of jism burst from her lips and the man stood back and laughed.

"You prick!" she managed at last. Tears were streaming down her face and a trickle of sperm leaked from her nostrils to join the dangling gobs on her chin. "I thought you'd choke me."