Copyright the author. It took me a while to figure out Viola's character. This is the last installment from this era of the Barron family; the next story will go forward 20 years. You don't necessarily need to read all the stories to enjoy this one, although it probably helps to read Across the Ages 04: 1980 Thelma.
*****
Viola stared out at the pool deck, empty now that the orgy had moved inside, thinking about what she had seen. Her daughter Thelma screaming out her love for the young boy, Jack, from the house across the desert, as he plunged into her from behind. The boy who reminded Thelma of that other Jack, who gave Thelma her own daughter and went away to war, never to come back. And yet Viola could see that, although they were both playing a role, the love between them was real, like actors who become the part they are playing. Jack had what Viola thought of as a gift for loving randiness; an eternal thirst for sex and an eternal affection for the people he had sex with; love and sex inseparable, feeding each other in a rising spiral, so that the orgasm is an explosion of both physical pleasure and a mental ecstasy where two wave forms collapse into one.
Viola had known of this all her life. She first discovered the healing power of sex when she was nurse during World War I, tending the wounded who had been shipped back to London. They would get erections when she gave them a sponge bath, looking at her pleading, and nothing seemed more natural than to place her delicate hands on their thick rods and stroke them gently to release. She found that those who received this treatment regularly healed more quickly. Soon it became an open secret in the ward that she would provide this healing treatment, a secret that was not abused. Men would wait patiently for their turn, hearing the life-giving groans of others. Viola discovered that baring her breasts gave greater pleasure, and would let her favorites suck her nipples, causing an explosion of warmth and wetness between her legs.
One night, at home, she disrobed and stood before the mirror and held her hands out, turning them over. They were beautiful hands, soft skinned and agile, precise in their movements and smooth to the touch when she rubbed them together. She reached up with them and began stroking her breasts, gently lifting and stroking the sides, brushing her palms across the nipples. It was as if her nipples were wired directly to her cunt, an electric signal sent through her body each time she brushed them, causing a little tense explosion of heat followed by a release of moisture. She started pinching her nipples, rolling them between her fingers, finding the exact pressure that moved her one step further up the mountainside, reaching towards the peak of quaking desire, until she cried out, a groan from deep within her, her skin suddenly alive all over. Panting, she dropped her hands to her sides and looked at herself in amazement. She probed the swollen wetness between her legs, the open hole, and thought about sinking down onto one of those wounded boys.
As life returned to normal after the war the need for the makeshift ward she tended dwindled, until one night there was just one patient, a proud Scotsman with a fiery red beard and a nest of red pubic hair to match, from which reared the proudest hardest cock of all. She admired it with her delicate hands. Smiling, she bent down to kiss the tip and take bulbous head in her mouth, ripe and red and ready to explode. She looked up at the smiling face of her unknown soldier, stood up and slowly removed the layers of her nurse's uniform until she was naked before him, proud breasted with hard nipples, her swollen lips wet with desire. She straddled him, opening wide her thighs and lowered herself onto that warm living rod and rode him. They stared at each other, eyes locked and nostrils flared, mouths moaning ever more urgently until they reached the mountaintop together and became one in an explosion of ecstasy, indistinguishable in that moment from love, unsullied and never to be forgotten. Viola felt his spasming cock deep inside her, filling her womb with warm semen.
She never saw her Scotsman again, but it was on that night that Thelma, her wild redheaded daughter, was conceived.
*****
Turning away from the window, Viola was seized by a compulsion to stand naked in front of her mirror again, as she had done all those years ago. She disrobed and spread her hands in that same gesture, turning them over in graceful caresses, raising them to her sagging breasts and pinching her nipples, still wired as ever to the pulsing core between her legs. She fingered the wrinkled skin of her cheeks and ran her hand through her long white hair. She ran her hands over her belly into the hollow of her thighs. Within that weathered leathery frame, she knew, was an opening of wet flesh that was ever youthful and always seeking. She thought of Jack's cock plunging into Thelma and yearned for it, yearned once more to sink herself down onto that warm intimate hardness. It was then that she thought of The Dress and formulated a plan.
*****
The Dress was a short dress in the flapper style, with sparkling shoulder straps and a shimmering fringe. It was made of black and silver metal mesh that swagged and swayed on every curve of her body, hugging her breasts and dripping off her hips. It revealed her body in a way that no transparent material could have done; she felt more naked than naked when wearing it. She had first discovered its magic power one evening with two friends who had come to her with a problem.
During the Roaring Twenties, Viola had acquired a reputation with her friends as a sexual oracle, full of emotional wisdom and sensual skill, dispensing both with that same magical power of her hands as she caressed the strapping cocks of the soldier in her care. And, like the soldiers, those who came to her never judged her or sullied her name, such was the purity of her healing touch.
On the occasion in question, towards the end of that decade, Terence and Emily, a young couple in their twenties, had come to her seeking solace. Something inspired Viola to throw on The Dress, naked underneath. As they entered the room and saw her wearing it, she was immediately aware of a current, filaments of pheromones threading the air, swellings and secretions in response to visions of her lush naked body beneath The Dress.
Emily reached out to touch Viola's shoulder. "What extraordinary material," she breathed, aching to move her hand further down to the swell of Viola's breast, made riper and more succulent by the shimmering cloth. "Terence, do come and feel." Viola took Terence's hand and placed it on her waist, noting his eyes take in the flare of her boyish bottom.
"Yes, I just got it, it has an effect, doesn't it?" said Viola. "But do sit down, and tell me what ails you."
They took the elegant love seat and Viola pull up a chair opposite. Emily, who had been wondering how she could ever start the conversations, found that the sexually saturated atmosphere had cleared her mind and quickened her tongue.
"Everybody talks about how wonderful sex is and... Terence and I, well, we don't get much out of it," she blurted.
"That is to say, we do like it," said Terence, "but not madly. To hear people talk you'd think it was the cat's pyjamas. To us it's just a nice walk in the park."
Viola shifted in her seat, judging the moment and coming to a decision. "Have you tried foreplay?"
"What's that?" they said together.
"Oh, caressing and touching, kissing. And more. You could say that we were engaging in foreplay when you arrived, when you touched my dress." She stood up and moved closer to them. "Except that Emily would have been touching my breast, and Terence would have been touching my bottom. Would you like to?"
She turned her bottom towards Terence and bent over, facing Emily. "Don't you feel the arousal?" Emily, panting gently, reached out with both hands and cupped Viola's full breasts, eyes half closed and mouth half open. Viola bent to kiss the sweet mouth, cupping Emily's cheeks in her gentle magical hands, caressing her neck and then pressing her lips there as her hands moved further down. Emily moaned softly.
Meanwhile Terence was lifting her dress and caressing the taut globes of her bottom, gently fingering the crack between them, and dreaming of another crack he had glimpsed and longed for years ago. He stood and pressed his burgeoning erection against her. Feeling it, Viola decided it was time to move to the next stage.
"Have you ever tried fellatio?" she asked. Emily and Terence looked blank. "Let me show you. Emily, come and kneel here beside me." She deftly undressed Terence from the waist down and took his cock in her hands, gently stroking and bringing it to full hardness. "Watch me," she said to Emily. She bent down and engulfed Terence's cock with her mouth, savoring its slim rigidity. Terence sighed, eyes closed. She lifted away and gestured to Emily. "You try. Be mindful of your teeth, and use your tongue." Emily bobbed up and down on Terence's cock.
"I do admire your haircut," said Viola absently. "It looks so boyish." Terence grunted. He opened his eyes and looked down. Viola began to have an inkling of a theory. "Why don't you take her head in your hands and move it up and down. Push in a little deeper. Terence grabbed Emily's head, closed his eyes again, and gave a deep groan as he plunged his cock hard down Emily's throat. Emily gagged and coughed and drew away.
