Message-ID: <5323eli$9710312234@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Will Capehart Brown X-Good-Line-Length: yes Subject: halloween sex.txt Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.storie.d,alt.sex.stories.moderated Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: LIBERTYES@prodigy.net Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <345A6E3F.300D@prodigy.net> Halloween WILL'S DIARY I was 14-years-old when my first sexual contact with the opposite sex inspired me to take pencil in hand and start a secret daily journal...a diary. A remarkable undertaking for a youngster like me who hated society rules made to prevent boys from being boys, but the thrill and excitement of seeing and touching the softness of a woman overwhelmed me. I had to save a record of every precious sexual second! So I started my hidden under-the-mattress diary. Even at fourteen, the most important thing in my life was - and had been for several years - my penis, with its remarkable ability to transform itself from soft, limp pisser to swollen, pulsing rod of sexual pleasure. Insatiable. It demanded - and got - loving personal attention from me several times a day. When my scoutmaster, Dr. Reed, suggested I accept the responsibility of Den Leader for a Cub Scout pack which met over at Mrs. Hefner's, I had no idea of the fabulous reward within my grasp. Reluctantly, I signed up, attending my first Cub meeting the very next afternoon, never suspecting I would soon be the most fortunate boy ever to attend Millwood. We lived in the country northeast of Oklahoma City. All of the kids for several miles around attended Millwood, our rural school, which consisted of 8 grades squeezed into 4 rooms. Mrs. Clifford, my 8th grade teacher, was a pistol. Sour of face, harsh, she literally exploded in indignation and fury at the slightest sight or sound of anything sexual. I thought she was going to have a stroke the day she caught Sonny Hatfield behind a big lilac bush jerking off while he watched the girls running and stretching as they played volley ball. As you may have suspected, my precious diary was lost when I grew to manhood and left home. I suppose mom or - hopefully - dad found it and trashed it. What is written here is the story of the secrets the diary contained, a true story if there ever was one. Secrets of this magnitude are not likely to be forgotton. Ever. Joan Hefner was not the type to appreciate the secluded life she lived with her small family and servants on the remote Hefner country estate. At 32, she was easily the most attractive of all the Millwood moms. Petite, she wore her honey blond hair like a crown, shaking her head now and then to show it off. Her well turned legs were openly admired by all males. Her luscious hips enhanced her figure, making her the envy of every Millwood mom. If that weren't enough, her wealth secured for her a high place. Her only child was 10-year-old Johnny, a small, shy kid whose face was covered with freckles. When he joined the Cub Scouts, Joan became a Den Mother. The pack met at her place, the Hefner estate, hidden by a thick growth of blackjack and pin oaks, black walnut, hickory and cottonwood trees. The driveway winding through the woods was almost 100 yards long. During the summer the pack met twice a month, the 1st and 3rd Wednesdays. My first meeting with them was October 31st, Halloween. After the meeting, Mrs. Hefner asked me if I would mind staying another few minutes to discuss how best to conduct future meetings, and how to divide the responsibilities between us. I was highly flattered, and of course, I told her yes, I'd stay, even though I had planned on heading for home to get ready for trick and treating. As the young cub scouts left, I watched from behind Mrs. Hefner, who was silhouetted in the doorway, her luscious figure plainly visible through her dress, spotlighted by the summer sun. She turned to me, and smiling, motioned for me to follow her into the kitchen where she directed her maid to drive Johnny to the barber shop in town for a haircut. After the maid and her son left, she gave me a couple of cookies and a tall glass of lemonade, and we sat at the kitchen table and talked about trick or treat. After about fifteen minutes, she looked at her wrist watch and exclaimed, "Oh, my goodness! I completely forgot that I have an appointment in town. Would you mind coming upstairs, Will? We can finish talking while I get myself together..." I nodded, yes. I was deeply impressed by the thick carpet and expensive furnishings of the place, but that didn't prepare me for the elegance of her boudoir. Pointing to a velvet covered chair, she said, "Take that chair, Will." I did. She continued to talk about the cub pack, but I no longer was capable of concentrating on anything other than the gorgeous Mrs. Joan Hefner. Here, in her own room, she was transformed into the most exciting and beautiful creature I had ever seen or imagined. She acted as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world to change clothes in my presence. When she stepped out of her skirt, allowing me to see her most intimate place through the delicate white lace of her panties, my face burned and flamed scarlet, whether from embarrassment or lust I didn't know. My cock came alive, and I thought it might not be bid enough for a woman like her. Her panties were not briefs, but were cut full like boxer shorts. She wore a matching garter belt and beige nylons. Her shoes were high heeled and shiny black. Reaching behind her lovely back she unhooked her bra and allowed it to drop to the floor. Then, she was suddenly before me nude. She asked me to excuse her a moment while she freshened up in her private bath. When she returned in a minute or so she continued to talk about how we would together lead the pack of cubs, but little of what she said sunk into my inflamed brain. Still nude, she walked over to me and pulled me up out of the chair and held me close against her lovely body. We were almost exactly the same height, which placed my now raging erection directly against her prize. She smiled and walked around the bed. I was sure she intended to invite me to join her there, but in less than ten minutes she was dressed again and acted just as though nothing had happened. "Will," she said in her soft, lovely voice, "I'm very cut off, living out here. Lonely. Very lonely. Henry leaves for work at 6:30 every morning and seldom gets back before 7 or 8 at night. I have nobody to talk to...nobody to confide in. I need somebody, Will. Somebody who'd care. Maybe you could come by every day or so and talk with me. Do you suppose you could? It's only a little over a mile from your place." Oh, yes, I could! She kissed my burning cheeks and led me down the quiet stairs and let me out the front door. Thursday morning Mom and dad had taken my sister and brothers and left early to go to the city, reminding me not to neglect my chores. Nobody else was home but mom's live-in helper, Cindy. I hurried to my secret place in the attic where I had spent many long hours as a peeping Tom spying on her. Cindy carefully removed her clothing, wiggling as though doing a strip tease while watching herself approvingly in the mirrow. She shivered in the summer coolness of the tiled bathroom. I tried to remain motionless on my belly in the dark attic above. Squinting through my secret peep hole, I was delighted to see the most desirable parts of the Indian maiden's body as panties and bra dropped to the floor, revealing intimate places unkissed by the sun. I groaned softly as Chi Chi Li (her Cherokee Indian name, pronounced chee chee lee) stretched and stepped seductively into the tub of sparkling water. When her lovely body came to rest, I could plainly see her black bush shimmering beneath the surface. Cindy (she didn"t like to be called Chi Chi Li) was a real temptation to all of us - my brothers and I - but off limits. Dad had threatened us with terrible consequences if we so much as looked longingly at her. Our sister was much younger. Cindy knew I had the hots, not only for her, but for any girl. She stretched out in the tub and remained perfectly still, allowing me plenty of time to visually explore her body. I was sure she knew how I lusted for her. The thought of being a sexual object for me was not at all repugnant to her and had not been ever since she had read a book containing a chapter on "beneficial titallation." When I saw her hide the book, I of course sneaked a peek and found the marked chapter. "If I had my way," the author of the book had written, "every family would practice nudism in the privacy of their own home. It's a crime to force young boys to learn about girls by studying textbooks or looking at air brushed pictures in a girlie magazine. If you have a brother, letting him see you naked is of benefit to him and is a duty for you." Cindy did her duty often. She had come to live with us the year before. In exchange for helping mom take care of the house and my brothers and I, dad taught her bookkeeping and allowed her to attend business college. Being an Indian wasn't easy for her. Cindy's dad, Albert Red Elk, was always on the make, while her mother, Mona - half Cherokee, half Comanche - was considered the most beautiful young housewife in their hometown, apparently an ideal mother to Cindy and her younger brother, but a not-so-happy wife. Cindy, now sixteen, had heard most of the town gossip. How her dad had poked it to - or at - just about every desirable girl and woman in town. How her mother was hit on as regularly as the town clock chimed (where there's smoke there must be fire). But even though she never gave any man a come-on as far as Cindy knew, most of them found it impossible not to react to her. They either feared her or fell under the spell of her mystique, getting hot flushes and unexpected erections when Mona looked at them. Women, on the other hand, distrusted her magnetic personality and dark good looks. Cindy was a youthful replica of her mother and had the same problems with boys as her mother had with men, but she enjoyed it. Her bath lasted a long time, and I was soaked with sweat and shaking when she at last toweled off and went to her own room. I wondered what it would be like to actually touch a girl - a real live girl like Cindy-Chi Chi Li. Friday I road my bicycle over to the Hefner place. Nobody was about, and the place looked deserted. Nevertheless, I boldly went up to the front door and pushed the doorbell button. I heard footsteps, and then Mrs. Joan Hefner opened the door. "Will, I'm so happy to see you," she said, "Please come in. come in!" She stood back to allow me to pass into the dark, cool house. Taking my hand she led me up the long stairway. I soon learned that Mrs. Hefner was not much of a talker, and never, never "beat around the bush," but always preferred direct action to unneccesary words. "We'll be all alone today, Will," she said, her eyes ablaze with happiness and adventure, just like a little girl playing house. She led me into her bed room, and without any preliminaries, kissed me full on my mouth, a long, passionate kiss making my knees as weak as watered down tea. I felt her loosen my belt and undo my pants. Before I fully realized what was going on, we were naked together on the bed. "Will," she whispered softly, "We'll just stay here for hours touching each other. Is that alright with you?" I nodded dumbly, unable to speak. Her hands roamed all over my body, pausing here and there, and continuing as though she were blind and must feel every smidgin of me to know me. "Will, I know for certain that to lie with a boy like you in a nice, safe place, is to become part of the magic of a world most never see." I shivered and nuzzled her breasts. We rolled together. She, practiced and sure. Me, inexpert and hesitant. She guided my hands here and there, making sure I knew where all of her was. Hard against her, I felt rather than heard purring rumblings deep within her. She licked me all over. Tasting, feeling, then tasting again. Smacking her lips and kissing me often on the mouth. We twined about each other like playful kittens. I had long since forgotten she was a married woman and I was nothing but a young Boy Scout. Then unexpected, unplanned sensations added, added, and added up to a sudden crisis of delight that left me gasping and weeping into her breast. Yes, to lie with the sweet woman of my choice was heaven beyond my ability to endure...was magic, indeed. As the weeks sped by, we did this over and over again, but never went so far as sexual intercourse. But it was beyond me not to react to the delicious lovliness of this magic woman, and I often spilled my seed on her or her spotless bed with much groaning. When it happened, she would pet me and say, "There, there, my strong young lover. There, there." And she would nuzzle and kiss me. We grew more skilled at pleasing each other, but we never lost some sense of awe at each other's mere presence. Just being there, on the cool sheets in the safety of her dark bedroom, seemed a continual wonder to me. She taught me much, and anything we could imagine, any refinement or pleasure we could dream, we did with tenderness, with laughter, with breathless excitement. We would lie naked for hours touching each other all over, taking turns. "Is it nice if I touch you like this? Like this? Like this?" Then on the next Halloween, half mad with desire and too desperate to care, I rolled on top of her spread loveliness thrusting with impatient, unskilled stabbs at her body, pushing my hardness into her thighs, against her wet softness until there was a split second of terrifying pleasure as frightening as falling from a tree, as painful as a knife cut, as I found the sweet hidden secret place and pushed in. For a second we both froze still, stunned by the sensation, then unable to hold back I shook her body like a terrier does a rat, and in seconds she was screaming. We writhed like frantic mink, biting and clawing. With a terrible groan, I came to completion and collapsed upon her, but she - hungry, greedy, insatiable - arched her back and rubbed and rubbed against me till spasms shook her and she sobbed and lay still. At last we had done it. All of it. Tearfully, I apologized for my gross behaviour, but she hushed me, and weeping herself, kissed me and held me close. "I love you, Will," she softly whispered, "I love you." I sobbed and sobbed, unable to control my emotions. Riding my bicycle home that evening, I felt exultant and proud. I was no longer a virgin. I had actually fucked a woman! A beautiful, willing woman! My chest swelled with pride as I lifted my rear off of the seat and pumped hard on the pedals. I was full of contradiction; in love with Mrs. Joan Hefner on the one hand, but on the other, I intended to take what I wanted from now on - to take whatever girl or woman I desired. I pictured Chi Chi Li. She'd be happy at this new me, now fifteen. I set my little windup alarm clock for midnight and pushed it under my pillow. I had a surprise for Chi Chi Li: "Trick or treat!" ### -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /