Summer Duty in Madeline Harbor

(With creative input of my special friend, Katya)

On a Sunday in late spring old Father Jerome announced from the pulpit that the Coast Guard summer contingent would be arriving in Madeline Harbor before the end of the month and would need rooms as usual. Those who had a room to spare would be doing the little resort town a service if they would help put these young men up until the small boat station closed for the season in September. He reminded the congregation that the Coast Guard paid these fellows an allowance for quarters; those who took them in would not be expected to do so for free. Father Jerome liked to make this announcement each year, feeling a kinship from his days as a Navy chaplain who had served with the Coast Guard.

Mildred was intrigued. Certainly not because she was titillated by the notion of taking a healthy young man under her roof she told herself; rather because it would be an exemplary public service and be responsive to the pastor.

Mildred Rikkonen was the epitome, she thought, of moral rectitude and religious devotion. She held her social, fraternal and parish layperson positions, present, former and future by divine right. She did not say as much publicly but was utterly certain in her soul that it was so. After all, she thought, I am a natural leader, a devout daughter of the church and socially prominent. Hadn't she been spouse of her late husband, an important executive in government? Hadn't he been, until his untimely death, head for more than 20 years of the second largest fish hatchery in the state?

What others might have mistaken for overbearing bossiness, Mildred saw as determination and decisiveness born of a superior mind and will. What others might have mistaken for haughtiness and condescension, Mildred saw as her due by virtue of her social position. What others saw as ostentatious holier-than-thou posturing Mildred knew in her heart to be a pious example for others.

By dint of relentless browbeating, by a certain ruthlessness and by indifference to and of others she was now or had been head of the altar society, a Eucharistic minister, president of the parish council, president of the VFW ladies auxiliary, secretary-treasurer of the Newcomers as well as director of the local duplicate bridge club and annual event coordinator of the Red Hat Society, first VP of the Daughters of the American Revolution and god knows what else.

Altogether Mildred could be seen correctly as a self-righteously moralistic person who behaves as if superior to others; in other words she was a prig.

Mildred was a formidable woman. To see her in the street was not unlike watching the passage of the Queen Mary, slicing through the North Atlantic. In full accoutrement she went out in girdled security (open gusset), voluminous rayon panties, with her necessarily commodious Playtex 18 hour bra supporting a 40 triple D bosom, gartered nylons on still shapely legs which she displayed to advantage with dresses hemmed just below the knee.

Mildred was not the statuesque beauty she had once been but at 60 years old was matronly with broad hips on a big-boned frame and soft, smooth unblemished skin. She was not beautiful but neither was she plain.

Menopause had come and gone for Mildred leaving in its wake a woman whose healthy sexual appetite she found heightened rather than diminished. She regretted Hi (for Hiemo) Rikkonen's demise but was grateful that he had not lingered, dropping dead one day two years earlier while mowing the lawn. At the same time she was increasingly agitated by the absence of regular, if not extraordinary, sexual servicing since becoming a widow. In the decade before his death, Hi seldom initiated sex with Mildred, but if she applied herself, she could arouse him sufficiently to give her a sexual sandwich even if not a banquet. In her devout mind Mildred put her restlessness and agitation down to the loss of Hi and not merely to the loss of church sanctified sex. She would hardly admit to herself that she liked sex, that she enjoyed sex and that she wanted a lot of sex.

Kenneth

So it was that young Kenneth, aged 20, arrived at Mildred's doorstep. He was a decent enough looking chap, thank goodness, she thought, and he seemed respectful of her.

He was a relatively small young man, not nearly as tall or heavy as her Finnish heritage late husband had been. He was an inch or two shorter than Mildred was at 5'10". But he was trim and sturdy looking.

She showed him his room and offered board as well as room if he wanted and he did. She explained the house rules; no smoking, no girls, and dinner time, the only meal he requested. He could have a drink or a beer or two, but drunkenness was not acceptable. There was but one bathroom which he could use in the morning before he went to work at 7 a.m. Since the Coast Guard secured for the day, save watch standers, at 3:30 p.m., she would serve dinner at 5, giving Kenneth time to change out of his uniform and shower.

This arrangement worked satisfactorily until one morning when Mildred was awakened by her bladder and, wearing only a sheer summer nightie, quickly arose and headed for the bathroom. She was not yet accustomed to his presence; indeed she was oblivious to Kenneth until, with consternation and dismay, she heard the shower running.

She was faced with the irksome choice between her bladder's imperative and her keen sense of ladylike decorum. Her bladder won.

She rapped sharply on the bathroom door.

"Kenneth, young man, I must use the facilities at once." She called this out in a rather imperious voice.

"No problem," Kenneth answered immediately. "If ya gotta go, ya gotta go."

Mildred hurried into the bathroom, hitching up her nightie as she entered and almost sat on the bowl before rather angrily realizing that he had left the seat up. Holding her nightie at her waist Mildred banged the seat down, turned, ensconced herself, let down her water in a copious, noisy splash and looked up to see Kenneth watching her with the shower curtain pulled aside to reveal his grinning face.

"Oh," Mildred cried, "Don't look!"

But Kenneth had looked and Mildred's broad derriere with her ample pussy had been momentarily displayed to his stimulated gaze as she bent and irritably banged down the toilet seat. Moreover he now clearly was enjoying watching her pee.

"Sorry," he said, "but I heard the bang and wanted to make sure you were alright."

Still smiling he ducked his head behind the curtain again.

Mildred blushed. She could see his form clearly through the opaque shower curtain since he was backlit by the bathroom window over the tub. She was transfixed as she continued to pee since he now seemed to be washing his private parts; washing "it" thoroughly. If she wiped and patted herself dry when finished a bit more than necessary, she was simply making sure that she was completely dry so as not to soil her nightie; well wasn't she?

She returned to her room and her bed, reaching up her nightie to make sure she was dry. She touched herself just as the thought occurred that he had surely seen her bottom and more as she bent over the toilet to put down the seat. That thought sent a frisson, warm and pleasant, from her "sacred chamber" out through her groin.

How disgusting was that, she thought; his ogling her. She was dismayed to find that she was not dry between her nether lips and it was not urine that she felt. She quickly snatched a facial tissue from the box on her nightstand and wiped herself vigorously, which, was it her fault, brought still more good feeling and dampness to her vulva? Thus it took considerable effort and repeated wiping and patting what became a copious flow, before she finally was able to relax and, if she was post-orgasmic when she contentedly slumbered again, she did not admit as much to herself.

Kenneth had not until then taken note of the coital possibilities of his landlady. But the enthralling view of her inviting broad ass and ample peeking pussy had given him an erection which he happily masturbated while revisiting Mildred's derriere and reflecting on how it would be to bang away in her.

Later at dinner he tried to "apologize," actually hoping for an entre', but Mildred curtly said it was nothing she wanted to talk about any further.

"Okay," Kenneth said, "But I just have to tell you, you sure do have a nice butt."

Mildred glared at him and he said, "Okay, okay I won't say anything else." She turned away to serve the food and smiled to herself.

A couple of weeks later, Mildred had her bridge group in when Kenneth came home. After introductions he sat on the sofa and appeared to be reading the local newspaper. But his furtive glances were not lost on the eagle-eyed Mildred, who realized when she looked about that he was looking up Gina McCuskey's dress! She arose, announcing she would be serving refreshments and positioned herself pointedly in Kenneth's line of sight. My, my, Mildred thought, Gina is just as much of a whore as I knew she was; no shame at all displaying herself like that to the randy young Kenneth.

Gina McCuskey grew up in Madeline Harbor. She was 40 years old and had a 21 year old son who was stationed in Germany in the Air Force. Gina's mother was a member of the Chippewa Indians who occupied the reservation north of Madeline Harbor. Her Father had been a longshoreman who worked in Duluth, west of Madeline Harbor until his accidental death when Gina was still a toddler. After that her mother, Alice moved back and found a place in Madeline Harbor rather than on the reservation. Gina married McCuskey, a high school football player after he made her pregnant at 19.

Gina had shiny black hair and brown eyes and her Native-American blood showed in her complexion and her cheekbones. She was attractive and had worked to maintain her figure although her hips had broadened a bit and her breasts had surrendered, but only slightly to gravity over the years.

Gina liked men and men liked her. But she was a one lover at a time girl. McCuskey had never adjusted to adult life after being a local teenaged football star. He compensated for his limitations with booze and either was blind or indifferent to his wife's affairs. They shared a bed but were no longer conjugal.

That evening at dinner Mildred confronted Kenneth. "When you moved in I thought you were a decent young man. But now I don't know. What do you suppose your mother would say if she knew you were looking up a woman's dress today? You should be ashamed!"

But Kenneth was not ashamed. He laughed and said, "Well I just glanced up and her legs were wide open. And, holy crap, she wasn't wearing panties!"

Mildred was shocked by this unexpected response. "You're disgusting," she said.

But then she also thought, if he wanted to look up a woman's crotch why did it have to be someone else? He had already seen the entrance to her "sacred chamber." Would it not protect the virtue of the other ladies if she allowed him the occasional glimpse up her dress if it meant keeping him from compromising their chastity, even Gina's? Wouldn't that be a selfless sacrifice on her part? Didn't she have some responsibility since it had been her that placed the oversexed young man in their proximity?

Hanging Curtains

Twice each year Mildred, in the spring and fall, washed her curtains and shaped them, while still damp, on a curtain stretcher. [For the reader who is puzzled, curtain stretchers were found in countless homes in the Fifties. By the Sixties, window fashions led to their disappearance. But Mildred, with roots in an earlier time, continued using such a device at the time of this story, i.e., circa 1963.]

The day came to rehang the freshly laundered, stretched and dried curtains. Mildred busied herself at the tedious task. More than just the curtains; the windows must first be washed. Moreover just removing the curtains from the stretcher was tiresome not to mention climbing, descending and repositioning the old wooden stepladder to redress the tall windows.

Window day meant Mildred was up early and anxious to begin. She threw on a housedress and deferred her bath until she was finished. Since she would be moving about she put on a bra but went without panties; certainly not a girdle which would be most uncomfortable as she worked.

Later in the morning she heard Kenneth moving about upstairs but her attire forgotten, (supposedly), she decided the task could be made both safer and completed more quickly, if she had the assistance of one readily available. When Kenneth came down in tee shirt and jeans, she said she would make him breakfast later but would he please help her finish the half-done windows. Kenneth mumbled his agreement, still yawning and stretching.

"If you will move the ladder and hold it for me, I will climb up and rehang the curtains."

In this way, when she mounted the step-ladder Kenneth glanced up as she ascended and to his quickly aroused delight was able to confirm the Mildred had indeed forgone panties. Furthermore she seemed oblivious to the fact that there was her "sacred chamber" on display for the randy youth, in all its hirsute glory. Kenneth was quite taken with this seeming breach of intimate decorum by his landlady and took in the repeated view of her fascinating pussy while his hardening cock fought for release from his restricting jeans.

Mildred appeared to be oblivious to the exhibition she afforded the young cocksman. If one shared Kenneth's view however, one might note that her plump labia suggested, as they eased open and moistened, that Mildred might be more aware of her immodesty, at least on some level, than her demeanor suggested.

In any event the display aroused Kenneth furiously; he left his hand deliberately in a position where the inside of her thigh slid over it as she descended until the tips of his fingers encountered her bush and soft flesh.

Mildred dismounted and stepped quickly away but made no issue of where Kenneth's hand had just been.

"Well, that's that," Mildred said. "Thank you for being such a help, Kenneth."

In the bathroom, a moment later, she wiped her crotch dry of the oozing moisture slick between her thighs.

Later that day, quite innocently of course, Mildred left suggestive clues that if Kenneth responded would lead him to her. She would never admit that they were invitational, but rather held in her mind later that he had simply misconstrued them because of his carnal preoccupation.

Of course Kenneth would see and assess these suggestive clues while having foremost in his mind the vivid recollection of Mildred's inviting pussy earlier in the day.

Mildred said goodnight in the parlor and left behind the book she was reading. When, curiosity piqued, Kenneth looked at what she was reading, it turned out to be a racy French novel about a matronly woman enthusiastically mounted by the gardener's young son.

This and the day's earlier events made Kenneth staunchly erect once more; with penis in hand, he determined to retire to his own bedroom and there jack off to release.

Two circumstances intervened to modify Kenneth's plans. One was the door to Mildred's bedroom which stood ajar. Need the obvious be stated? Kenneth stopped and looked in.

It was a warm spring night and Mildred lay abed without covers. Her ankle length nighty had "inexplicably" bunched up; in the glow of a night light, Mildred's broad bottom was on prominent display. And her plump labia were also visible.

Kenneth was transfixed then, holding his rigid penis in one hand and slowly pushing the door open wider. The inflamed, wretched young man had completely misconstrued Mildred's simply coincidental and innocent series of behaviors as an invitation into her bed.

Mildred is "Ravished"

Reflecting later, Mildred wanted to feel remorse for the awful, disgusting thing he forced her to do. He had forced her, hadn't he? She flushed, became agitated and had those feelings in that private, very private part of her body when, in her mind's eye, once again she saw herself doing "it." That it was not a typical feeling of remorse was only more evidence of how thoroughly he had debauched her.

Definitely she had not, would never have agreed to do that foul thing as he insisted. Oh the beast had overwhelmed her; forced her to do it. Well if he hadn't actually forced her, he had anxiously entreated her hadn't he?

Come on Mildred, you want it don't you? Take it in your mouth, he had pleaded. If you won't I'll just have to put in your pussy. Now open your lips and don't you dare bite me.

Hadn't he kept pressing that hot stiff thing against her lips, even caressed her cheeks with it? Hadn't she tried to stop him only somehow to have left a sticky snail trail that had leaked out of it about her face as she tried to wrestle away from it? An onlooker might have been forgiven for concluding that her resistance looked curiously like enthusiasm. But she was adamant to herself that it was really a measure of her dread. That she had then, albeit "reluctantly" kissed, fondled, licked and sucked it and done quite splendidly, did not mean she had done it willingly.

However, her own body had betrayed her with its disgustingly carnal response to his overwhelming lust. She would never have willingly allowed it such sensual release. Yet, she found herself leaking copiously from between her tightly clamped thighs. And more, it was not urine that she secreted but the slick coital ointment that a woman in heat makes when anticipating copulation. Worse, that small and, oh my so sensitive appendage at the apex of her vulva had emerged unbidden and insistent on attention. What was she to do? Could she be faulted if she caressed it?

No more than she could be faulted when her hips, seemingly of their own accord, spread wide to allow him manual access to her most private parts. "Savagely" he had impaled her poor vagina with his probing fingers. Hadn't she thrust herself more and more vigorously, desperately trying to free her abused chamber of those nasty invaders? She could not be blamed could she, if her actions had precisely the opposite effect than she wanted to achieve? She had wanted them removed and if it took longer and more climactic thrusting to finally get him to remove them she could hardly be blamed for that as well.

Then there was the matter of his, no way to put it delicately, his ejaculation while his stiff male member was still pushed into her mouth. It had seemed momentarily as though he had wished to extricate his leaking phallus from her slurping, smacking, moaning and humming oral cavity. Could she then be blamed if she had clutched desperately to his buttocks, refusing him release, out of fear that he would impale her sacred vagina on that swollen red lance? In this way she had selflessly taken his repeated orgiastic squirts into her mouth and swallowed it all and licked his member thoroughly clean thereafter, solely to preclude any wayward sperm from befouling any other part of her body.

Perhaps it was a manifestation of something like a Stockholm syndrome that led her in their mutual satiation (she had cum on his hand while he came in her mouth) to thereafter spoon her bum tightly against his groin.

Poor Mildred, she failed, at least she would say she failed to understand that, rather than surcease she was actually prompting a prelude to more degrading abuse by her vigorous young boarder.

For as it soon became rampantly apparent young Kenneth had but briefly lain hors de combat. Now eager to return to the fray, his hardening member was ensconced between her derriere cheeks, perilously adjacent to her vulva and all that lay enticingly just beyond that hot, that wet, that inviting entrance.

As his again stiff erection probed her nether regions, Mildred realized "aghast" that if Kenneth shifted only a tad he would bring his swollen gland into direct contact with the entrance to her most sacred and private chamber.