Rita Sondale: Sorority house Mother

Then the thought that finalized the conspiracy brewing in her brain fin alb materialized. Pulling her hand out from inside her panties, she brought her inquisitive finger up to her nose. She sniffed it and smiled. She rubbed its wetness over her lips and then licked her lips. She took a deep breath.

Reaching for the telephone on the desk, she dialed the intercom. It rang down in the lounge where she knew Dianne, the maid, was cleaning.

"Yes, Mrs. James?"

"Dianne, I just received a most surprising telephone call. I've never told you, anyone for that' matter, but I have a niece and nephew. My sister's children, and they're twins."

"I'm listening, Mrs. James." Often Dianne was very caustic and unfriendly. She took her work seriously and had very little time for small talk. Besides, she always suspected that when Mrs. James called her on the intercom from up in her apartment, she was checking up on her.

This was, however, never the actual case; always a figment of Dianne's less than fertile imagination.

"Well, Dianne," Gloria James continued, smiling to herself, "they've just come to town and they're going to have lunch with me… up here."

"Yes, go on, please, Mrs. James."

"Well, I expect them almost any time. Would you be good enough to let them in and show them how to get up here?"

"Of course, Mrs. James." Dianne sounded much relieved. "Would there be anything else?"

"Yes, Dianne. They'll just ask for me by name, Mrs. James. It's been a long time since we've seen one another. Once they arrive and get up here, I'll call the kitchen and make arrangements, all right?"

"Yes, Mrs. James, but that reminds me… do you want me to help out in the dining room today… unless you've found another waitress?"

"Yes, Dianne, would you mind terribly?"

"Oh, no, Mrs. James. Not at all. Besides most of the boys are eating sandwiches up in their rooms. They're too busy to come down to the tables."

"Very well, Diane," said Mrs. James and she hung up the receiver.

Again Gloria James sat back in her swivel chair. A wide smile flooded her pretty face, she got up. In the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom, she slipped out of her cashmere sweater. She folded it neatly and placed it back into its cellophane protective bag. She I unhooked her skirt, stepped out of it. She folded this, too, and placed it neatly on one of the shelves.

Wearing only her panties now, she sat down on the black toilet seat. She leaned back against the tank. She spread her knees wide apart.

She raised her bare feet up to balance them on the edge of the toilet seat after kicking off her high heeled bedroom slippers.

Closing her eyes, she began to run her right hand all over her panty crotch, cupping her ripe mound so prominent under the material of her cotton panties. She fingered between her slit, forcing the material into her vaginal hole.

Her hand massaged and stroked her breasts. She teased her nipples until they were erect and throbbing sweetly from her affectionate caresses. She pinched them until the pain was severe, almost unbearable, then rubbed and smoothed them with her palm until they were harder than before.

Then she got up from the toilet seat. Turning her back to the door, she straddled the toilet, facing the tank. She leaned forward, her head on top of the tank. She lay her cheek on the cold porcelain surface of the toilet tank. She sat back and glancing down between her naked thighs she stared at the crystal clear water in the bowl.

She strained her bladder then and her urine began to piddle through the panty crotch, warming her cunt, soaking the crotch; and finally, when her urine began to squirt, she cupped her hand roughly over her mound, rubbing it vigorously.

She began moaning as her warm urine began to spurt forcing it way through the tight, stretched panties. Quickly, she raised up. She backed off the toilet, dribbling urine all over the tiled floor. She pulled her panties down to her knees, staring at the soaking crotch.

Then she backed up, sat down on the toilet and gripping her clitoris between her thumb and forefinger, began pulling and pinching it at the same time until the pain was so severe and her clitoris was so raw, it took only seconds before she was down on the cold tile, squirming and writhing all over, now on her back humping up at her fingers, now over on her belly, her right hand reaching up under between her damp, urine-stained thighs as her fingers, four of them, swam in and out of her drenched cunt.

When the orgasm finally struck, it almost knocked the breath out of her. Now again on her back, her legs thrashing, her naked toes flexing, she kicked off her panties and then, reaching them with the bare toes of her left foot, caught them, picked them up with her little toes and carried them up to her waiting hand.

First she sniffed them, then she tasted the wet crotch, then she rubbed them all over her pounding breasts, ringing them out over her nipples, eyes closed, her happy cunt throbbing as a second wild orgasm threatened.

She was just about to explode when she heard the soft knocking on her apartment door.

Jeffrey and his twin sister, Beth, had been victims of circumstance more than once in their eighteen years of living. Their mother had died in childbirth. For ten years both had been raised on a foster farm because their father had been unable to care for them properly.

It wasn't until he remarried, when the twins were about eleven years old, that they returned to some kind of family life.

Then, suddenly, on a deep sea fishing trip, the twins along for the ride, their father fell overboard. Rescue was impossible.

This cruel twist of faith returned them to an institution because their step-mother wasn't able to take care of them and attend to her own business. This consisted principally of straightening out their deceased father's estate and arranging a home for them. This took a considerable length of time.

It wasn't until Jeff and Beth were fifteen that they finally had a decent home. And this was in a place not to their liking.

They ran away together, destination unknown, at the age of sixteen. The police in another state found them. They were returned to their step-mother.

This woman wasn't really a bad woman. Actually, she herself had come from a broken home and if she shunned anything, it was responsibility. Confident that the twins were able to care for themselves at the age of seventeen, she sat down with them and made a deal.

She would divide up their father's estate, apportioning Beth and Jeffrey their financial share. This money would last them until they were at least eighteen/nineteen. The only problem with it was that, because they were minors, the step-mother had all the proxy power to handle and disburse the funds.

Five months before another cruel twist of fate that took place in the college town of P-, the step-mother flew to Europe with a man whom she claimed she loved. She gave both all the money (in traveler's checks) that remained as their share in their late father's estate.

This totaled several thousand dollars. Free of any supervision, having no home, Beth and her brother invested in a Volkswagen van. They bought it second-hand, had it reconditioned so they could live in it. Packing all their belongings into this van, they drove off; again, destination unknown.

For five months, until they arrived in P-, they had a marvelous time. Both were certain that now the fates were smiling down upon them. Neither ever guessed that in P-, another cruel twist would strand them, completely broke, in a strange college town on the eastern seaboard.

In vain did they try to locate their stepmother. If they were successful, as they discussed many times, still they were not certain in any way, shape or form, that she would come to their rescue.