Rebekah opened the door that led to the tunnel under the hill. The cute little twelve year old boy by her side peeked into it, then turned around and grinned at her. His eyes descended with a cautious sensuality down the voluptuous lines of her lushly shaped body before he looked back into the tunnel and disappeared. Rebekah closed the door and went upstairs. It was an old tunnel from the cellar into a large barrel-like enclosure lined with shelves that were too old and rotten to hold anything, whatever they might have held decades ago. Then the tunnel part proceeded, probably dug later, maybe during a war or something, right through the hill.
She had a new little boy upstairs. He was busy at the moment shining leather shoes and boots in the kitchen. She had hired him yesterday and he started today. He, too, was twelve and very angelic looking, a type she didn't usually bother with, but this boy's beauty that shone with a heavenly aura around his features and his soft blond hair stopped at his blue eyes, which shined with the merriment of the very devil himself. He had been too enticing to pass up. She could only hope that he was not a goodie-goodie who ran to his mother with each little problem he had.
"How are you doing, Jim?" she asked, smiling, as she came through the cellar door into the kitchen.
"Take a look, Miss Howell!" he said, pointing at the half-finished row of shoes that were spread across the floor on newspapers. Then he looked at her with curiosity.
Here it comes, she thought. All of the little boys were curious at first as to why no one was allowed to wear shoes in the house, although there were so many shoes in need of constant shining. But he didn't ask that at all.
"That's funny," he laughed a little. "I didn't see you go down there, but I heard you coming up the steps so it must be the cellar."
"It's funny?" she said in a questioning tone, raising one of her naturally thick and finely arched dark eyebrows.
"Well, I mean, in my house, when someone comes up from the cellar, that means they went down, and the last I saw you, you went out there!" he explained, pointing through the kitchen door into the hallway.
"A regular Sherlock Holmes!" she mumbled, remembering to smile and hopefully cover her surprise and concern. There were many entrances to the cellar. They all led to the same place, but she kept them as secret as possible. The door inside her own closet, a door that no one but she knew how to open, was the only door down to the secret tunnel that she ever revealed to the boys. The reason she kept it all so secret was self-protection. The door in the closet had a panel that fitted over it. When the panel was in place, no door was visible. Any little boy who spoke of such a door could be made to look foolish.
At the other end of the tunnel was a little cave, and this was blocked off very ingeniously by a rock that was raised and lowered and worked from the house by a simple lever. There was no written record of the tunnel. Rebekah's father had shown it to her when she was in her teens. Since he had told her not to tell anyone, she didn't even know if her mother knew of it. Her mother, now living with her second husband over a hundred miles away, never mentioned the tunnel, so Rebekah rather doubted that she knew of it. Her father had been dead now three years.
It had been a foolish mistake not to remember to return by the wall stairs to her closet. What had she been thinking of to make such an error? If she had ever done it before, no one apparently noticed. It was clear that young Jim Craft was a sharper youngster than she usually had. She wiggled her bare toes and decided the best thing to do about it was to change the subject.
"Let me see how you're doing," she said, bending over the shoes. The young boy scrambled to his feet, then bent over to pick up a boot that had been well scratched before he had worked on it. It shone with barely a visible scratch at all.
"How's this one?" he asked proudly.
Then, despite her awareness that it might be a little soon but hoping to make him forget his suspicions about the cellar, she bent downwards to hug the little boy, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck to pull his delighted face warmly against the twin mounds of her ripely upthrust titties. She held him for an extended moment, almost suffocating him in the voluptuously deep valley between her tits, then gradually straightened up, her breath slightly hastened from the not-so-innocent and titillating contact.
"They've never looked so good!" she breathed. Seeing that his attention was now completely on her, Rebekah pulled away. She didn't want to get herself too excited, too soon. She did her best to maintain control of herself. There had been times when she had weakened too soon and given a child a spontaneous hug or kiss, and he had run out the door yelling for his mother. She thought she was probably better at choosing the children now. She often wished, though, that she were not so irresistibly attracted to such young adolescents. But even though she was a good twenty years older than most of them and had had considerably more experience, there was much that she and such young boys had in common, an energy, which she didn't really understand, a restlessness that was not yet focused. She would someday have to give them all up, of course. She had to start thinking about getting married. She was the end of a dwindling family. But meanwhile, she wanted to have as much of them and their sweet young bodies for which she had time.
"Want a Coke?" she asked her young expert boot polisher.
"Gee thanks," Jim smiled and bent once more over a shoe on which he was working assiduously.
"It won't interrupt your dinner, I hope," she said, suddenly remembering that herself. She had just let Tommy Speigle out to go home for his dinner, and in the concern over the secrets of the tunnel, she had forgotten that she had meant to send Jim Craft home, too. Tommy's parents had, for some reason, made Tommy leave his "job" with Miss Howell, and that's why Jim had been hired. She suffered a rapid turnover in her young boys, but Rebekah had so far had no more serious problems with them or their parents.
"What time is it?" the boy asked then. He, too, had forgotten the time.
"Five thirty. What time do your parents expect you for dinner?"
"I have to be home and ready by six, Miss Howell," he said apologetically.
"Well, fine," she said cheerily, wishing this were a later time, a later day, and that she were dismissing him from her bedroom and not the kitchen. She could hardly wait to get at this beautiful boy's extremities! She sucked in and swallowed the saliva that was suddenly gathering in her mouth. "Let's just pull the newspapers with the shoes right on them over into this corner, and you can just continue tomorrow."
While they were pulling the papers along the floor, he asked, "Gee, do you wear all these shoes?" He was all too aware of her own bare feet now and his own naked toes. He had heard that the Japanese remove their shoes before entering a house. Perhaps Miss Howell was Japanese. Her hair was very long and dark, but other than that she didn't appear to him to have any Japanese characteristics as he understood them, like yellow skin or slanted dark eyes. He didn't know whether he had ever really seen a Japanese. Anyway, someday he could ask her.
"No," she said. "I use them as ornaments around the house."
He blushed. Maybe it was a smart-alecky question, he thought. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
"But I'm not. You see these boots on which you did such a beautiful job?" She picked up the nearly scratchless boots. "Let me just show you where they belong before you go, okay?"
While she was standing, holding the boots, Jim arranged the last shoes on the paper that was now in the corner between the wall and the sink cabinet in one corner of the kitchen. He happened to glance down under his arm to where her naked feet stood at the edge of the paper, close to his hand. Something about them impressed him. They were lovely, really, with their high insteps and long toes with well-manicured nails. She wore no polish on her toe nails the way his mother did. It was odd how they drew his attention. While he was watching, she wiggled her toes. He almost laughed, but feared he would say the wrong thing again or his laughter would be out of place.
Jim got up and followed her out of the kitchen into the hallway that led to the front of the house and the front stairway to the second floor. For a minute, he supposed they were going to a closet upstairs. It never occurred to him that there was any place else to keep a pair of shoes. But they turned away from the stairs and toward the living room. There, just inside the door, beside a large overstuffed chair was an end table with a single lamp.
"There, see how beautiful they look?" she asked the stunned boy.
"I… uh… I guess so," he murmured. Jim didn't know whether she was going to tell him in a minute that she was kidding or whether she neatly did keep them there. If she kept them on the end table, then he supposed he should be proud that she wanted to display his good work, but somehow, it all seemed kooky!
"Well, I guess I had better let you get along home," she sighed. "See you tomorrow as soon as school is over, okay?"
"Okay," he agreed with a grin. He thought he should say something about the shoes. "Now that I know what you do with them," he beamed, "I'll do a better job than ever!"
He almost forgot to put on his own shoes before he hurried out the back door. There was no need to use the tunnel, of course, unless a child came who was not supposed to be there, like Tommy had come. Now that she thought of it, she had better close off the end of the tunnel, too, before she forgot to do it. Caves were enticing places for children to play, and she didn't want any strange child wandering into her tunnel by mistake, telling the whole neighborhood that it was there, a tunnel that had been a well-kept secret for decades, at least.
As soon as Jim Craft was safely out of the house, Rebekah climbed the stairs to her own room. She reached in behind her robe and pulled the switch that sealed the tunnel from intruders into the cave and then stood in her bare feet on the shaggy rug that covered the floor of her bedroom. She was staring at herself in the full-length mirror on the inside of the closet door, and now she removed her short skirt and stood in the pink body suit that accented the voluptuously inviting curves of her body. For an extended moment, Rebekah's green eyes remained intent on the frontal view of her figure as reflected in the long mirror. Then the beautiful thirty-two year old woman turned slowly to gaze at her profile. Her proudly uplifted tits swelled out sharply above her trim little waist, standing up full and sensuous in defiance of gravity, voluptuous and almost perfectly symmetrical. Rebekah had long been proud of the fact that, although she didn't really have the nerve to go without one, she had never actually needed a brassiere to hold her titties upright, and she didn't need one yet!
Then her lovely emerald eyes dropped lower, following the inviting curve of her ass. Rebekah's hips were those of a mature woman, but they were still as firm as a young girl's. She had started swimming as often as she could years ago, and she had to believe that the swimming had done wonders for her as she had been told it would. The exercise had had a soothing effect on her mind when she had lost her father and again when her mother had remarried, leaving Rebekah to live alone in the big house. Rebekah still remembered how horribly lonely she had been. One evening she had sat in the living room staring at her bare feet for hours, wondering where she should start to break out of her rut of isolation, of feeling rejected by the world, when suddenly, she had wiggled her toes, and like ten zany obedient, lovable little boys they had responded, dancingly, to keep her company. Well, one idea had led to another, and she was grateful, very, very grateful, to her ten closest companions, her toes.
She looked at them now, deep in the purple shag, reflected in the mirror. She stared at them hungrily, raising them out of the purple threads of the rug and then laying them gently back down. She sighed softly and then pulled the pink body suit slowly down off her shoulders, struggling for an instant to get the snug gamment off her arms. She let it drop loosely from her waist, but it still clung tightly to her ripely flaring hips. She turned again to examine the half-naked front of her body in the mirror.
Her firm tits were a soft white with large rose-colored nipples, a sharp line of contrasting hues defining the area that had been covered by her bikini bathing suit top last summer. She watched breathlessly as the cool air of the bedroom caused her nipples to swell visibly to a tingling hardness, and the half naked woman could not resist the temptation to lift her arms to brush the dark strands of hair back off her face and thereby further arch the voluptuously rounded mounds of her tits. Once again Rebekah felt that she had never been so acutely aware of her own body, of her sexuality. There would be a new and exciting boy soon, and that always gave her a feeling of renewal.
After another moment's hesitation, the sensuous long-haired brunette turned away from the mirror and walked away from the closet toward the bed. Quickly stripping the body suit over her tightly rounded ass and then down the long length of her silken thighs, she tossed it aside and slipped nakedly between the sheets of her bed. She wasn't hungry yet and had a couple of hours to kill before she bothered with dinner. Tommy had had to leave too soon to satisfy her, and she felt restless. She stared silently at the ceiling for a moment, then lowered her eyes to gaze again down the outline of her sensuously curved body, vividly revealed beneath the thin sheet that covered it. She stared long and hard at the two hills that were her feet, and then, with a chuckle, pulled at the sheet until finally it pulled free of the bottom of the bed. Then she drew it slowly up, watching it slide toward her over her toes, until finally the edge of the sheet balanced on the tips of the toes and fell over the edge to her ankles. There they were, her comforting little army of well manicured friends. A tingle ran up her spine and suddenly, she could feel little Jim as he would feel, soon now, she hoped, walking on her body, wiggling his own toes under her upthrust tits, making her nipples pop out with excitement, hard as spines. Even now her nipples were taut. Her toes, though, felt cold and lonely.
"Be patient," she whispered to them. "It won't be long." She thought for the thousandth time with yearning of how a baby could pop his toes into his own mouth.
Almost without thinking, Rebekah trailed her hands slowly down the outside of the sheet to rub lightly over the protruding little points of her nipples, the friction of the material on the sensitive buds causing them to perk to greater and more visible rigidity. A spontaneous little moan rose in her throat as her hand trailed lower down the smooth sensuous flesh of her belly, and a silent battle waged in her mind as she tried to fight down the desire to reach for her feet. She had learned before that it would do no good. It only frustrated her worse than ever.
But in a sudden impulsive gesture, Rebekah kicked the sheet off her nakedly exposed curved body and gazed through narrowed eyes over the sensuous lines of her voluptuously contoured flesh, forcing her body to offer her voluptuous little toes some competition. Her breathing had hastened, and her lovely tits rose and fell visibly with each strained gust of air. Her thighs seemed on fire already, her naked flesh burning with unfulfilled sensation. Oh, God, if she could only have kept Jim Craft up here today! She was beginning to get more and more impatient about it while at the same time she was growing wiser about not rushing things. It was a conflict that gave her some very difficult days of waiting some times.
She suddenly thought to herself that she had not had sexual intercourse with a real man, an adult, for over a year. What would it be like now, she wondered? Immediately her body began to cool for an adult man had come to seem too rough, too hairy, and too big to satisfy her. She had fallen in love with things little, little boys, little swollen pricks, and little toes. Now once again her body was heating as she thought softly and tenderly of the gentle touch of littleness, little toes that she kissed and sucked and sometimes bit, imagining in her passion that she was biting them off!
Oh God, she dreamed, as she moved her hands back up to squeeze and fondle her tits, tweaking the hard little nipple buds, almost the size of her littlest toes, to even greater rigidity. Then, another whimper arising in her throat, she let her fingers glide lightly back down over the smooth flat plane of her belly and into the softly curling strands of pubic hair nestled so invitingly between her satin soft thighs.
Arching her hips in a sensuous movement, Rebekah pushed her hand daringly lower, gasping aloud at the first titillating contact of her finger over the sensitive bud of her clitoris. Then, as she began to work the finger slowly up and down over the little tingling bud, her whole body stiffened, an unwelcome spasm of longing shooting out suddenly from her throbbing clitoris to saturate deeply into her belly and over the rest of her tortured flesh. She could almost feel a small wet tongue rubbing the knuckle of her big toe as she continued a moment longer, tweaking and teasing her little clitoral bud, almost closing her eyes, breathing in deep strained gasps as little spontaneous shudders of delight darted over her nakedly tingling skin. With a groan of frustration, she drew her hand reluctantly away, resisting the temptation for a short moment which, in her present state of excitement, seemed like an eternity. But she had been through too much, too much strain, frustration, and worry. She had been denying herself ever since Tommy had left, and her whole body was demanding release no matter what she had to do to obtain it. If she hadn't spent so much time downstairs showing Jim what to do, she and Tommy would have had more time. It was her own fault. But she had been really taken with the new boy, really excited.
Well, like it or not, it would be a while before she dared approach Jim, so with a sob of despair, Rebekah dropped her hand between her naked thighs, her fingers playing gently over the goose bumped skin of her belly, venturing once again down through the curling strands of pubic hair nestled between her thighs. Then an even more powerful shudder came over the gorgeous brunette as she touched the pulsating slit of her already moistened pussy. She moaned aloud at the sudden and even more titillating contact, her asscheeks jerking as she carefully parted her hair-fringed cunt-lips and spread the profusely flowing moisture slowly up and down the length of her tingling cunt. Then Rebekah carefully pulled her moistened pussy lips apart and began to probe teasingly up into the tightness of her cuntal flesh while at the same time running her thumb over the sensitive little bud of her clitoris that nestled so invitingly at the top of the throbbing furrow.
Rebekah was going to masturbate! She couldn't even remember when she had last done that. She hadn't done it since starting with her boys, and before that, when she had a boyfriend, she hadn't needed to. God, she must have been a youngster! But she could pretend that someone was with her, she reasoned. It wasn't as though she hadn't fingered herself. She often fingered herself to a climax while the boys worked on her feet, but she didn't look upon that as masturbation. She was positive that at such times, her climax didn't come from fingering herself but from what the boys were doing, and that made the difference. To be all alone and do it, nevertheless, seemed to her obscene. But what else could she do? Her whole body was crying out with need. Her desire seemed to be at a peak at just exactly the wrong time. Furthermore, it had found focus earlier this afternoon as she was confronted with the marvelously forbidden sight of the naked Tommy. She had to have some relief.
At last, with a distant-sounding moan, Rebekah surrendered completely to her obscene lust, beginning a lewdly writhing undulation of her ass as she started to shove her finger in smooth even fucking strokes in and out between the tightly caressing lips of her steaming cunt.
As she began to finger-fuck herself in earnest, a stream of moans and pleadings issued from Rebekah's throat. Her emerald eyes were tightly shut now, her teeth gritted from the strain, and, forgetting completely that she was going to fantasize a boy with her, she began to thrash and toss her body in wild contortions of uncontrolled passion. Grunts of salacious pleasure spewed from her lips, and her fingers fucked dartingly and swiftly in and out of her trembling pussy, her thumb working with a maddening effect over the throbbing little bud of her clitoris.
"Ooooohhhhh…" Rebekah moaned as she parted her throbbing pussy and spread the flowing moisture up and down the length of her tingling cunt while she thought of the little boys' wet tongues licking her all over her body!
The beautiful brunette's face was shining, flushed red with lust, as she strained and groaned in frustration and need. Worming her finger up into the warm quivering slit of her devouring cunt, she tossed her head wildly back and forth, her long dark hair whipping softly over the nakedness of her shoulders as she further intensified this obscene finger-fucking rhythm.
Then she lifted her head, gazing deliriously down between the trembling swells of her white tits at the shocking sight of her nakedly undulating body and her fiercely waving toes. She squirmed without restraint, responding feverishly to the obscene motions of her fingers fucking in and out so swiftly between the soft haired lips of her cuntal hole. Yet, shocked as she was, the lust-abandoned brunette could not completely quell the lewd thrill prompted in her by the sight of her own lascivious self-abuse. She seemed to derive a perverse excitement from the very depravity of the act, and she was determined to go through with it, even though she found it impossible, for some reason, to fantasize. She didn't care anymore. She was going to obtain the release from the devastating need that consumed her, no matter what degraded acts she had to inflict upon her own helplessly surrendered body to do so.
After a moment, Rebekah's dark head dropped back to the pillow. She gasped and moaned as she began to strain even more desperately for the still distant relief, her pelvis thrusting eagerly upward to the probing strokes of her fingers into the quivering hot flesh of her hungering cunt, the lips of her cunt flowering open to give her even greater access to the warmly yielding inner flesh. At the same time, she continued and intensified the maddening strokes of her thumb over the twitching little bud of her clitoris, the obscene titillation almost driving her insane with the lewdly rising passion that surged up from her womb and into her voluptuous squirming tits.
Gradually Rebekah had let the temptation which had been nagging at her for the last few minutes take full control of her. She reached with one of her hands to the fully swollen mounds of her tits, her fingers frenziedly working over the throbbing tips of her nipples. With her other hand she continued to spread the copiously flowing slick moisture up and down the trembling slit of her cunt, her body bucking from the raw stabbing sensation as her finger fucked deeper and deeper up into her moistly clasping cuntal flesh. And now that she had ceased her mental resistance to the depraved act, she let the lurid vision of little Tommy return to her in clear and shocking focus. Yet, try as she might, she could not imagine his doing more than standing naked by the bed. Without her interest in him, he somehow looked pathetic in his nakedness and shame, but suddenly, she no longer saw him at all. Instead, she could see as clearly as though he were right beside her, Jim Craft's little toes! They were hardly ready for her yet. They were not as clean as they would some day be, so the instinct to which they appealed must have been motherly as much as sexual, yet the raw intensity of that emotion only further heightened her prurient response, and she knew finally that it was the physical need which had prompted just about anything to feel lascivious at this point.
Now the gorgeous thirty-two year old brunette was completely engulfed by the all-consuming lust which had been hewn to a peak with the tantalizing caresses between her thighs. She spread her legs wide, bending her knees to expose the tingling slit of her pussy even more defenselessly to the obscene thrusting of her middle finger up into the warm quivering cunt flesh while she continued and intensified the swift stroking of her thumb across the excitedly pulsing little bud of her clitoris.
Forgetting everything, Rebekah mewled and whimpered without restraint from the surging lust that coursed over every inch of her nakedly exposed flesh. She wiggled her finger furiously from side to side to probe into the most sensitive areas of her hot inner cuntal flesh, and her thumb squashed down hard on her little clitoral bud, causing flashes of overpowering delight to surge through her body. Like some perfectly functioning machine, the young woman arched her asscheeks up off the bed, not unaware of the pressure of her toes on the mattress, and scissored her naked thighs open and closed in a flurry of shameless arousal. She had reached the point of no return and there was no way to stop until she found the release she so desperately needed. With a deep animal groan of abandoned lust, she began to writhe and toss without control on the bed, her finger working all the way to the last knuckle up into the softly yielding flesh of her pussy. A torrent of moans and whimpers and distant hissing sounds issued from her throat, and again her eyes clamped tightly shut, her teeth grinding in animal fashion as she strained for the now imminent release.
Rebekah Howell lingered in the terrible purgatory of unfulfillment for a few moments longer. Then suddenly her whole body tensed. She shuddered, fucking her finger in a staccato rhythm in and out of the softness of her burning cunt, deep groans rising urgently to her lips. Then, in a sudden whiplash motion, her naked body uncoiled, her legs closing tightly about the hand that invaded her private pussy flesh as she felt the rising tide begin to swell from deep in her belly.
It was going to happen! Unconsciously she caressed her toes against the mattress. She couldn't have stopped it now even if she wanted to. She was going to cum, and there was no escape. Then an even more obscene spasm of delight shook her lushly ripened body, sweeping away the last of her inhibitions with the salacious promise swelling in her loins. She moaned in wanton delirium, drawing her finger completely out of the quivering cuntal flesh, and concentrating totally on the rapid stroking of her thumb over the now lewdly pulsating pink bud of her clitoris. Then she moaned even louder and fucked her middle finger savagely back into the convulsing wet flesh. She continued the frantic finger-fucking in and out of her clasping little pussy, her breath rasping in short strained gasps as she groaned in the delirium of her pleasure and wallowed in the obscene and depraved bliss as the lightning-like sensations jolted through her body. Oh God, how good it felt, even without a boy, and she almost passed out from the mind-blowing sensation.
Finally, Rebekah's soft white asscheeks sank in exhaustion down on the bed, and she dropped her head back to the pillow, gasping to catch her breath. Absently, she reached down for the sheet and spread it over her naked body, even kicking it up over her now relaxed toes. For a few moments longer the little spasms of excitement continued to course through her loins, and she left her hand resting limply on the sensitive and sated flesh between her thighs. She closed her eyes and for a moment, almost drifted into sleep. The problem with drifting into sleep, however, was that she kept thinking and wondering about Jim Craft with his angelic face, his blond hair, his mischievous blue eyes, and the most beautiful set of toes she had seen yet. It was perhaps wiser to get up, get something to eat, turn on the TV, and make thoughts of Jim Craft wait until tomorrow!