Fred Richard - Bawdy-House Mother

Frank knelt down between Conchi's legs. He felt for her pulse but was too upset to pursue that instinctive action. He leaned forward and roughed her tits a little before he kissed each one. He knelt back so he could see the cunt. He was not an expert on seminal discharges, but it looked to him as if she had been fucked.

"Conchi? Miss Thorne?" he said. He saw the flecks of blood on the cunt lips and figured she had been screwed by a madman.

The absence of bruises or a weapon seemed to indicate that she had been fucked while out cold! Frank moved swiftly to the front door to see if it were closed. He was satisfied and started back to the invitation that lay on the floor. He was so hot now he unzipped his fly and pulled his stiff rod outside his slacks.

Driven by lust, Frank began to stroke the magnificent tits. He pressed his mouth against a nipple and sucked on it. But the urgency to fuck Conchi was now so great that any loveplay was to be avoided. Besides, she might wake up and he wanted to soak his big prick in her moist hole. And he was now going to take her with or without her consent!

He lay on her and guided his cock into her cunt. He put his arms around her and began, the sexual rhythm. This is all woman, he thought. His prick was a stiff tool, doing its work. He was conscious of the fact that he had to rush the job because she could wake up any second-and that was the second she did!

She was a drowsy looking dame as she said, "It's you, Frank."

"I want you, Conchi," Frank said softly as he continued his thrusting. "I can't stop!"

He wasn't sure what she'd do but if she screamed he would put his hand over her mouth until his juice shot hotly into her. But her cunt was not objecting to the way his cock was going into it. He kept shoving it in and hugging the blonde to his chest.

"I don't want you to… " Conchi's voice drifted off into nothing.

He couldn't make out what she was saying in her little cries and moans. But he didn't need a dictionary to identify her physical reaction. Her entire body became a volcano of passion, as if she could make up in this one episode of lust all she had missed in her fifty virginal years.

Her cries increased in volume as she neared an orgasm; her belly pounded against Frank with an insatiable demand. The long, loud shriek told Frank his partner had reached her climax; and she shrieked again before Frank let his hot jet of, semen shoot into the ravaged cunt.

"Frank!" Conchi gasped. "Why did you do this to me? Like this?" She didn't make sense. "Why did you make me wait?"

"Conchi, girl," Frank said lovingly, "you'll never have to wait again."

Conchi whispered, "I guess I've been waiting all my life, and I didn't know it."

It was obvious that Conchi Thorne was still under the effect of the drug. Neither she nor Frank knew that the drug could produce strange things, like the release of pent-up emotions and desires. She was now vitally conscious that she had had a male cock in her vagina, and she wanted more of it!

Frank began playing with Conchi's breasts, sucking each in turn, making the nipples harden. As he thus played with her his prick grew stiff.

"Don't go, Frank," Conchi said. "Don't go, ever!"

Frank's answer was to thrust his cock into Conchi's cunt for another go at sexual pleasure. "I'm not going," he promised. "We're just beginning to get acquainted-so let's get married!"

A gush of air came from Conchi's mouth. Married?"

"Why not?" Frank said as he kept on working. "What's wrong with marriage?"

"Not a damn thing!" Conchi said as she moved her hips in time to the thrusting prick.

"How about Paris?" Frank asked.

"Paris in the spring," Conchi said. "Beautiful."

"Let's run away to Paris as soon as we can."

"Paris," Conchi grunted. "That's the only place for a honeymoon."

Keith was drinking his fourth cup of coffee and fighting with his conscience.

He had run down the stairway and into the Coffee Shop after drugging his aunt and trying to rape her. Following two cups of coffee and imagining all possible ways of being apprehended, he had left the restaurant to walk for blocks in frightened contemplation.

Now he was back in the Coffee Shop with the fourth cup of coffee in his hands. He had slipped the drug into his aunt's brandy about twelve o'clock; it was now close to one-thirty.

He was on edge wondering if his aunt had regained her senses. How she felt? What would she do to punish him for the awful thing he had done to her-that attempted rape!

Keith was sipping his coffee so slowly it was becoming cold. What should I do? he thought. Return upstairs to apologize? He had no feeling about facing his aunt's wrath; not yet. But he knew he would have to go up to do so eventually.

The jukebox in the restaurant was playing softly. A singer was singing something about love and the word picked its way through Keith's mind.

He did love his aunt. She was the best thing in his life. That was the main reason why he had agreed to give his semen to her. But how could he help the fact that she had appealed to him so strongly sexually? To be truthful with himself he had to admit he hadn't fought against his desire to fuck her. And that desire had grown week after week until it had become so strong he had dared to drug his aunt.

Even the time he had spent with Bettina Werp and Phyllis Reger had not dimmed his desire to screw his aunt. He knew he had done wrong in using the potent drug. And now he was paying for his smartness-his smart-assness!

To place Conchi under his control had been his aim, and the fact that he had failed to satisfy his desire did not lessen his guilt.

"Damn it!" he said aloud and unthinkingly. He was completely frustrated. He wished he could undo what had been done. He felt in his pocket for some change and became aware that Phyllis Reger was sitting on the stool next to him.

"That can mean only one thing," she said.

"Trouble!" Keith said.

"Tell Phyllis about it."

"I can't. It's too awful."

Phyllis patted Keith's arm. "Now don't tell me you committed a murder."

"Worse," Keith said.

Phyllis ordered coffee from the waitress and turned to Keith. "How do you know I can't help you?"

"I told you. It's too awful!"

"Tell Phyllis anyway."

"I can't tell you. I can't!" Keith was becoming crazy with remorse. Talking about it, he was sure, wouldn't help.

The waitress set the cup of coffee in front of Phyllis who put a spoon of sugar in it. "If you're in trouble, Keith, I want to help. Aren't we intimate pals?"

"Oh, God!" Keith moaned.

"You'll feel better if you tell me." Phyllis stirred the sugared coffee and tasted it.

"I need help." Keith was edging himself toward a confession.

"Well, here it is!" Phyllis said.

Keith was going all the way. "If you have time I'll show what I did."

"I'm not quite sure of the time," Phyllis said as she thought of Frank's arrival from Los Angeles today. He hadn't showed yet so she decided to take a chance. "All right," she said. "I'll go with you if you tell me where we are going."

"My aunt's apartment." Keith was near tears.

The sudden idea to take Phyllis to Conchi's apartment made Keith feel better. She would serve as a kind of mental and moral buffer against whatever was found there. He knew that his aunt might be fully awake by now, or still be unconscious. She could be filled with rage at what he had done. He couldn't imagine her calling the police, but she would tell his parents, and that was worse.

Phyllis asked, "Did you do something to your aunt?"

"I tried," Keith began, and then told the story of his special treatments for Conchi, his ever-rising desire to fuck her, and then how he drugged her.

Phyllis said. "That's trouble, all right, but you have to face it."