Room With A Secret Ch 14

"How is Annette? Is her cleaning as good as you hoped?"

"The house is spotless. I cannot praise her enough."

"And... and her mother?"

Mr Crowfoot became all conspiratorial. Very bouncy, Jim, very bouncy. I am sure you would enjoy her. An ample and fine woman. Really you must... sometime."

"I'd rather with young Annette."

"So you shall, so you shall. She's here later this morning, Jim. I think we might... I think we might have her undressed. But her mother; such big breasts and real cushions of thighs and so dark. So very dark. You could try them both, mother and daughter for size; though Annette is of course much tighter. Compare them, slip from one to the other, and compare."

"You didn't? Not at the same time."

Mr Crowfoot's face moved from the conspiratorial to the smug. He clearly had been very naughty indeed. "You should Jim, I like having two women at once."

Jim shook his head, why not three? He had better not suggest that - Mr Crowfoot would become too keen. "It's not quite like Sophie and Jenny or Ruth and Kay; I mean how old is Annette's mother?"

"You seemed happy enough with Mrs Stamp and there's even more of Annette's mother."

"I'm not into older women and..."

"You were certainly into Mrs Stamp. You didn't just get 'in,' did you? You could start with Annette, but take the condom off with her mother. How about that! She's past child-bearing - unlike Annette. No risks there. Just a nice hot, wet vagina, all smooth and slippery. Imagine that - no condom. And her breasts are so big, great handfuls of... mammaries!"

"You, Archibald Taciturn Crowfoot, are awful - but I like you!"

That elicited a smile. "Mrs Kareem is quite generously proportioned everywhere, Jim. We could even..." Mr Crowfoot was a little hesitant, "we could even enter her together, at the same time - and I don't mean a penis in her rear passage. How would you like that?"

"What! That can't... surely...?"

But Mr Crowfoot nodded. It was sometimes possible.

Jim was not at all sure. He had not so much as touched Mr Crowfoot's penis,still less rubbed his own against it. It was not that they were not pretty intimate; he had seen Mr Crowfoot erect often enough, seen his penis perform ejaculation and even followed the old man into Miss Redmond after Mr Crowfoot had come. That would be rather more - parallel, not in series or sequential fucking.

"I don't know." It would be a new and different experience. He had thought of taking a girl anally quite a bit, and then had done that for real with Sophie and it had occurred to him it might be rather exciting if he and Mr Crowfoot were to fuck a girl at the same time, one at the front and one at the back. Neither needing a condom, certainly if Jim took the back seat. But in the same passage?

A knock at the study door terminated the conversation,

"Sorry, Mr Crowfoot, I did not realise you had a visitor. I'll do the rest of the house first." And Annette was gone without even setting foot in the study.

A chuckle came from Mr Crowfoot. "You seem to find the door rather interesting."

Jim came out of his reverie. He had been staring at the door since Annette had closed it. Had been thinking of her and what he would like to do. Despite her already having been dusting and cleaning for Mr Crowfoot some little time he had yet to see her charms - or feel them. He had somehow missed out on her for several weeks. Not that he had not had the pleasure of other women. He had not seen her naked or even half naked. All he had seen was the tall black girl dressed in what seemed to be her working uniform - white blouse, black knee length skirt and sensible black shoes. Were her knickers white too to match her black and white ensemble? He had come in her hand - and very good that had been - and seen Mr Crowfoot sucked and coming in her mouth; but he had not so much slipped a hand inside her brassiere, still less delved inside her knickers.

"Sorry. I was thinking..."

"Of course you were, Jim! And what would you like to do with Annette today?" Seamlessly Mr Crowfoot moved from the hypothetical to the real. "What shall we do? Shall we have her fall asleep on the sofa and we pretend to be a couple of neighbours creeping in upon her, or maybe your sister's friend come to stay, and we have slipped a sleeping pill, a strong sedative, into her bedtime drink. Grandfather and grandson meeting at midnight whilst the rest of the house sleeps; meeting in pyjamas and creeping up to young Annette's bedroom door?

Jim could not help erecting to the idea and could see Mr Crowfoot was similarly pushing at his cavalry twill trousers. He made no attempt to hide the swelling. Had they been in pyjamas and doing their 'creeping' up on Annette's room they might well have found them doing it with cocks poking out of buttonless pyjama flies! A pleasant escape, rather super to find themselves out in the dark.

"Or might you like to play her fiancée, young Matthew, she tells us; Annette finally allowing him sexual relief. Might be their wedding night perhaps, though I cannot see Annette going away in her white blouse and black skirt. Something much more colourful I am sure. We could have the room make it as if her pent up sexual frustration just releases in a flood of desire quite unnerving Matthew, perhaps - what a little tigress he finds he has married - but not you Jim. You would not be unnerved!"

Both ideas were very pleasing to Jim.

"Or just have her here on the Chesterfield between us, undressing as we watch, sitting on your lap so you can play with her before she sucks us both and then we can try squeezing into her. No, not together! She is very tight, Jim, but it can be done, one by one. Or..."

It was rather pleasant sitting and discussing what they might do with the young girl. So very like what two male friends might do, might have a rather naughty conversation about; only it was not mere wanking fantasy for Jim and Mr Crowfield, the girl was in the house and the room would permit them to do just what they wanted - or chose to do - she would not be able to help herself.

It was to be the sleeping Annette scenario. Jim had not at all forgotten the diary entry about Mr Crowfoot Senior and Mr Soap's enjoyment of Mr Soap's daughter whilst asleep. Had found that one of the most arousing passages he had so far read. It had been completely captivating; had led to him enjoying a rather good fantasy, with a copious ejaculation at the end of it, whilst in his own bed, imagining taking Cynthia whilst she slept - worse he had imagined doing that whilst Mike slept beside her! The idea now of doing the same for real - to Annette, gave him a particular thrill. The idea of undressing her, slowly exposing her, lubricating her, and fucking her greatly appealed. Of course, with Cynthia no condom was needed - though actually alone in his bed and fantasising nor was one needed with Annette. Copulating with Annette for real, in the flesh rather than in his head, was a different matter.

"Shall I make some more tea?" Jim went to the kitchen and found Annette in yellow rubber gloves at work cleaning the cooker. A long apron over her blouse and skirt. Jim paused and watched for a moment until she noticed him standing there.

"Sorry, sir, am I in your way?"

He had been watching Annette bent over the cooker, had watched the result of the vigorous rubbing upon her bottom - how her movement had been transmitted. He had been imagining her naked, stark naked, but for the apron; the rather delightful idea of her breasts and pussy modestly covered by the long bib apron but leaving her behind exposed. Just the bow of the tapes securing the apron around her, tied in the small of her back and with the two tails pf the bow hanging down to her bottom; swishing over the revealed dimples at the top of her, no doubt fine, bottom crack as her cheeks too moved. Annette's bottom was indeed moving and the twin ribbons below the bow were also moving but he could not see her skin beneath.

Unfortunately, it was not the house that had an effect upon women, it was merely the study; otherwise... To Jim the idea of Annette naked but for the apron being bent, not over the cooker but right over the kitchen table and told to grip the other side of the tabletop with her rubber gloves rather excited him. Easing her legs apart by pushing his foot against hers, he could unzip and press his already erect penis - and it was - into her bottom crack; all so delightfully warm. Better still, why not reach for the olive oil and pour it down the divide between her cheeks and then with fingers massage her rubbery anus until it relaxed. Or, and he had seen the film in the cinema, be like Marlon Brando in 'Last Tango in Paris' and use butter - the best butter, of course - upon Annette's sphincter. Perhaps best not straight from the fridge - not because of its coldness, that did not bother him, but because of the difficulty of applying the butter. Perhaps he would need to cut a sliver or perhaps shape a long, narrow oblong of the butter, fresh cut from the block - whittled to a point and then inserted to melt and lubricate! Fingers really easing her anus as she lay upon the kitchen table and then would come the push as he slowly forced himself into the greased but tight rear passage, going deeper and...

"Sir?"

Jim's thoughts had taken seconds, but his lack of response had clearly surprised Annette.

"I was going to make some tea, Annette, for Mr Crowfoot."

"I'll do it, sir, I'll bring it through."

Hopefully, Annette had not seen the movement in his trousers. That would not do at all. Jim walked back to the study, his thoughts still about Annette and butter. Perhaps not that day but another, Mr Crowfoot and he could ask Annette to bring in scones and jam with the tea. With, of course, the butter dish and a whole pound of yellow, melting, slippery butter.

Annette arrived with the tea things. Teapot, two cups and saucers, milk jug and sugar cubes. She had not forgotten the teaspoons.

"Bring a cup for yourself Annette, no don't be shy. This is Jim Costin my young friend from across the road. I was telling him about you and what a pleasure it was to see your mother the other day."

"No, Annette, I insist. You have been working hard and I'm sure you are in need of refreshment. Indeed, a sit down would be a good idea as you must be feeling tired."

Jim's penis, which had barely subsided since his erotic thoughts in the kitchen, surged upwards. Mr Crowfoot was suggesting Annette was feeling tired. He had started down a road which would very shortly lead to Annette being fast asleep as if in her bed. Jim could see that. Could tell just where things were going. Very soon, 'Grandfather' Crowfoot and his adopted grandson, Jim, would be pretending to meet at midnight and creep towards the sleeping Annette!

It did not proceed quite as quickly as Jim had expected, Mr Crowfoot let Annette drink her tea first and tell Jim about her mother, about herself and about Matthew. He had heard much of it before but, whilst he remembered what she had said, Annette did not. The occasional little instruction from Mr Crowfoot came as she talked and Annette seemed to become sleepier and sleepier until she just curled up upon the Chesterfield, her eyes closed. She was fast asleep. Mr Crowfoot and Jim in armchairs looked at one another.

"She doesn't look quite ready for bed, does she Jim? Perhaps you might like to loosen her clothing, perhaps get her into her nightdress; though as it is quite warm in here, do you think she needs anything on at all?"

Jim shook his head.

"And, given it's so warm, I suppose we don't either. Do you want to nip across the road for your pyjamas and bring mine down from my bedroom or shall we just pretend - as if it was not yet a dress rehearsal for a play but with the actors and actresses just in their everyday clothes?"

"Or not!"

"Indeed!"

With Annette curled upon the Chesterfield the two men undressed as if getting ready for bed - or rather as if to creep along a darkened corridor together and visit a young lady fast asleep in her bed with a view to - a view to being very bad indeed! In Jim's mind the knowledge and thought about just what Mr Crowfield's father and Mr Soap had done upon that very Chesterfield with Mr Soap's two daughters, long years before. Good to follow in their footsteps - or whatever cocks, rather than feet, left behind them - ah, yes! Jim wondered if it was an appropriate time to mention the diary to Mr Crowfoot. Perhaps another time.

As all those years before with Mr Crowfield Senior and Mr Soap, their cocks were extended and ready for use. So good to stand over Annette, as the other two men had done long ago with the two daughters, and contemplate what they would do. Of course, with men's sexuality being so very visual, just staring down at a young naked girl sleeping as they wanked would be enjoyable enough - with of course, a pattering climax all over her exposed skin.

Perhaps it would have been more fun to have been in pyjamas - with hard penises poking out of the flies. There was most definitely something enjoyable about being out with the young woman there below them. More fun to have been dressed the part and perhaps more fun had Annette been in her nightdress too.

But first Annette needed to be naked to look more the part. No doubt Mr Crowfoot had delved more than once below Annette's blouse and skirt. Jim rather felt it was his turn. He had not 'unwrapped' a black girl before. Even curled up, Jim could appreciate her height and certainly her pretty face, her hazel eyes were closed but a slight parting of her generous lips revealed a delightful contrast between their near black and the brilliant whiteness of her teeth. He very much liked the roundness of Annette's face and the rather squashed looking nose. Into his mind the thought of her as a girlfriend - that would certainly surprise his parents, and his brother. Would surprise Matthew too!

But Jim did not seem to 'get' girlfriends. Even now with his growing confidence with women - or at least his readiness to grow his penis readily enough with women in Mr Crowfoot's study, he had not asked a girl out. He did, indeed. have much of the experience of having a girlfriend in many ways. He had the pleasure of female company at work - and plenty of that; and sex as well - it could not be said that he did not have plenty of that too, and with a variety of women to boot; but no romance. That was something that would certainly be new. Perhaps, though, Jim was a little frightened of that; might it mean he would go all 'loyal' and no longer wish to enjoy the happy succession of women at Mr Crowfoot's house; might it mean the curtailing of their friendship; and - and it would be 'and' - how would he deal with the inevitable request from Mr Crowfoot for him to bring the girl he was madly in love with into the secret room, the so comfortable study with its cosy fire, soft carpet and fine old leather Chesterfield, for Mr Crowfoot to fuck? There was no way Mr Crowfoot would not ask that.

Jim's hand reached out for Annette's blouse, his hand resting upon a breast. Firm and plentiful. Had Matthew so much as done that? Still less had begun undoing white pearly buttons as Jim began to do? A white brassiere coming into sight as a result and then rather more chocolate dark flesh below. Jim bent his head and kissed the soft skin below Annette's brassiere and then he licked. Slowly the neatly and conservatively dressed young woman began to be disrobed. White blouse undone, brassiere unclipped at the back and lifted. Annette's full breasts revealed. Such a delight to Jim to see and then touch yet another pair of young woman's breasts. Each so fascinatingly different in shape, in areolae and, this time particularly, in pigmentation. His penis soared, his bulb so swollen.

"Oh yes!" Jim turned to Mr Crowfoot with a beaming smile. "Just look!"

And Mr Crowfoot was. The two of them stood there staring. Mr Crowfoot may well have seen before, had no doubt fondled, perhaps sucked, but he was as happy to stand there, stroking his foreskin up and down just as Jim was, at the sight. Goodly sized, well-shaped and, of course, that almost edible milk chocolate pigmentation, but, and this was what really had taken Jim's fancy, was the size and blackness of her areolae. Not saucers, but a lot larger than old pennies. Easily two inches across with sweet, little, more milk chocolate nipples in their centre.

"Go on Jim, suck!"

"One each?"

"One each!"

It was perhaps just as well the two men decided to suckle. Both had been coming quite close to providing a rather moist and sticky topping to Annette's two breasts. They had certainly been aimed - but not discharged. Silence between them as each concentrated on a breast. Jim licking the flesh up the side, feeling the smoothness with his tongue before detecting the bumpiness of the big areola. Had Matthew done that - Jim suspected it was unlikely. Had Matthew thought about that and, indeed, thought of providing a sticky topping - to both breasts? Of course he had - as sure and likely as eggs are eggs!

Jim undid the skirt. It could just have been rucked up. Skirts are very practical garments. Jim was not so sure about the modern trend for young women to wear trousers. It had probably flowed from the popularity of western jeans, but they were so obviously less practical. So much easier for sexual activity and, well, other bodily purposes. Jim, though, slid the black, knee length skirt down well past those knees and then right off, leaving Annette in just - knickers! And how appropriate that they were a brilliant white. Perhaps freshly washed in Omo, Radiant, Daz, or were even brand new.

Brilliant white or not, the knickers needed to come off. Another delight to see Annette's crinkly pubic hair come slowly into view as Jim tugged at the knickers; good to bring the whole hairy triangle into view and see, almost hidden beneath the curls, her slit leading to what made girls very different from boys. Just a little and so sweet slit, albeit promising much, compared to what loomed over Annette; a penis rising up - very up - from Jim's own patch of curly hair. Easy to imagine how Matthew would loom when, finally, he had the opportunity to pull Annette's knickers down. And down they went, not by Matthew's hand but Jim's.

"Legs need opening."

"Yes, Mr Crowfoot." And, of course, they did. Jim was opening them for the old man. Some old people needed help with getting up from a chair, or with walking across a room. Mr Crowfoot's needs were somewhat different, or at least he did not mind and was grateful for a little help in his sexual needs. Very likely Annette had already, on other days, helped him quite a bit with that. Stroking his cock with her fingers. "Is that right, Mr Crowfoot?" as if she was asking whether she was polishing the brasses satisfactorily. Perhaps moistening it with her saliva - a bit of 'spit and polish' indeed. "Shall I suck now?" Jim could imagine Mr Crowfoot getting her to say all sorts of things.

In her sleep it was not difficult to open Annette's legs, not difficult to leave them well spread and just gaze at what was revealed. Like her areolae her sex was dark, hair strewn, plump outer lips and really black 'flappy' inner lips rising to merge in a most pleasing way at the clitoral hood; it like a pointed arch. Parting lips with his fingers, Jim gazed at the pinkness within. A delightful and colourful contrast. Annette was wet; there was no mistaking that. Mr Crowfoot had told Annette to have erotic dreams just before she fell asleep and it seemed within her head that was exactly what she was having. The deep moan as he touched added to the confirmation. Jim poked his finger at Annette's pink entrance.

"You have been within - and released?"