by AnonYMous
Some other girls soon drew the group's attention and she hurried on to the station. She looked behind her just to make sure that none of the girls spotted her heading for the train. It would just be too ironic to have the Greystone administration stop her at this stage of the game.
She was really sick of the place and all those giggling tormentors. She knew her mother would tell her that those papers were all lies. She would be her mother's secretary and go all over the world with her, glorying in her singing triumphs. Somehow, she couldn't picture her father doing much of anything, really being in the picture with them. To her inmost self, she admitted that he was a well-meaning man, but a weakling for whom she had no respect. Her mother was the strong vital force of the family.
She waited impatiently for her train to come. She only had about a fifteen minute wait, but it seemed like hours. The ride to Grand Central took two hours, and all the way down she tried to picture the reaction of her parents at her sudden appearance in town in the middle of the term. Her father, like all weak people, was conventional, a square, and would probably insist on her going back to that prison of a school. Why, now that she thought of it, even its name "Greystone" had that penitentiary sound. But her darling mother was different, she knew she'd be glad to see her "baby" as she called Charisse. She knew she would listen sympathetically to her story and maybe she would even start training her for the position of her secretary right away. She would tell her mother about the gossip columns and wanted to hear her mother's throaty contralto laughing and telling her to pay them no mind. And now that she was older, and would probably be living at home with her parents, she could certainly spot anything that wasn't right. She wasn't a child anymore.
The train finally pulled into Grand Central at six p.m. and Charisse felt like a coward as she went into a phone booth. She really dreaded telling either of her parents what she had done; they thought she was such a dutiful girl. When the phone rang, there was no answer. Charisse breathed a sigh of relief. They had probably gone out to dinner and would make things easier. The doorman would let her into the apartment, and she could be sitting in the living room when they returned. She hoped it was a good dinner, because then at least they would be in a good mood.
She dozed off on the couch while waiting for them to come home. She just didn't know how she was going to explain things, but decided play it by ear. It seemed as if only a moment had passed and she awakened to the sound of her mother's voice practically screaming in surprise.
"Charisse, baby, what are you doing home when you're supposed to be in school? Is anything wrong?"
Taking a deep breath, she told them there was nothing for them to worry about and that she was perfectly all right. But, she told them, Greystone Finishing School was just an impossible place and she couldn't stand the other girls' catty snobbiness another day. If they sent her back, she'd just run away, and maybe go to Chicago or Los Angeles and look for a job.
Her father stopped her short.
"School is the only place for a girl of your age, and you'll just have to go back. Why, Greystone is one of the most exclusive schools in the country and you have no idea of the strings I had to pull to get you in. I know better than you what's best, and back to school you're going in the morning. I'll probably be hearing from the headmistress any minute now and I'm going to tell her you'll be there tomorrow morning!"
Charisse realized with a sick feeling at the pit of her stomach that for some reason her father didn't want her at home, that she was just a pesky kid who was going to be in the way.
Then Minna came to her rescue.
"Oh, Charles," she exclaimed, "you're being too hard on the child: Let's hear her out. That's only fair, and maybe she shouldn't go back if she hates it so much."
Turning to Charisse she said, "But you must realize dear, that my singing schedules and your father's TV production business just doesn't give us much time to spend with you."
"But Mother, you always said You needed a confidential secretary–and who could be more confidential than me, and I'd just love the job," Charisse interrupted. "I'd be the best secretary you could possibly have!"
"Young lady-" her father began, but Minna shut him up.
"I'll tell you what we'll do, baby. I'll call the headmistress at school tomorrow and explain that you're not feeling well and that's why you left. We'll get you a leave of absence and you can stay here while mother and dad figure out the best thing to do," Minna smiled at Charisse.
"Who knows, maybe it would be best for you to be my confidential secretary. The idea has its good points!"
Charisse flung her arms around her mother and hugged her so tightly that Minna told her to let up a little, she couldn't breathe. It was the maid's night out, so Minna took Charisse into the kitchen and made her a tuna sandwich and milk.
"Get to bed early, Charisse dear," Minna said. "Tomorrow's another day and our problems will look a lot simpler then."
As she snuggled into her own bed that night, Charisse felt she had done the right thing in leaving Greystone. When her beautiful mother was around, she felt warm and comfortable; her mother was strong enough and capable enough to set everything right. Those cheap gossip columnists with all their dirty pictures and obscene insinuations could never make her believe that her mother was immoral. Seeing was believing and she had never seen her mother in a single immoral action in all her life. But her father was a weak man, and as a TV producer, he surely met up with a lot of temptations–girls who would do anything for a break on one of his TV shows.
CHAPTER 2
Surprisingly, she slept quite late the next morning. When she had finally showered and dressed, she found her parents were practically through with their breakfast.
"Hello, sleepy-head," her father greeted her as she sat down at the table. "How does it feel to sleep in your own bed again?"
"Nothing like it," she answered. "That's another reason I don't want to go back to school, I'm too comfortable here."
"I think you're grownup enough to come to the party tonight," Minna said looking appraisingly at her daughter. "It's just going to be some of father's business friends, and mine too, nothing big."
"That's right," her father chimed in, "and if you need a dress you can use the family charge account at Saks or Altman's as usual."
"Oh mother," Charisse said happily, "that sounds just too groovy, but I guess I'm going to surprise both of you . . . I mean I'm still so tired for some reason, I'd just as soon pass up the party and get to bed early!"
"All right, dear," her mother said with a rather surprised look. "But I do want you to get out today and get some fresh air, you look a little pale to me."
"I intend to mother. I'm going to take a long walk in the park, say hello to my favorite seals in the zoo, and just read on a bench until it's time for dinner."
"I wish I didn't have that concert to rehearse for–I'd keep you company darling. It sounds like a lovely, lazy sort of day that I haven't had for ages."
–
Charisse spent the day in Central Park, as she had planned. She departed from her plans in one respect. She went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and viewed again their wonderful sculptures–her favorite still being the nude Venus Aphrodite, rising from the surf in all her feminine glory. She wondered why the statues of the naked goddesses held her interest so much more than the statues of the naked men, which after all showed every detail of the male sexual organs.
When she came home, she could hear her mother talking to someone on the phone. Carefully lifting the extension phone in the kitchen, she listened. Her mother was talking to a man with a deep virile voice, someone who was a stranger to Charisse.
She heard her say, "There's this damned party of Charlie's tonight . . . but maybe we'll be able to see each other anyway if I can get out of the house with some kind of an excuse . . . "
"That would be wonderful, darling. But if you can't make it, we'll see each other tomorrow night at my place."
"That's
a date, dear," Minna laughed in her rich contralto and then hung up.
Charisse replaced the receiver and thought to herself why Minna should he making evening dates with the possessor of the virile baritone voice. Could there possibly have been anything to those monstrous articles in the scrapbooks? Well, it was probably a business appointment, even if it all did sound very sexy. It was out of the question to Charisse that her adored mother would seriously play around with, or give her body to a mere man . . .
She took a shower which had the effect of stimulating and refreshing her body to the point where she felt ready to take on anything. Going into the kitchen, she fixed herself a salad and some milk and cake and took it up to her bedroom, determined to just listen to some good music and then go to sleep early.
But sleep was out of the question for her as she began to hear the slamming of doors and the bustling noises of the evening's party guests arriving. There really weren't more than seven or eight people at the party, but as the drinks began to take effect they were soon making enough noise for a regiment. Wondering what was really causing all the commotion, Charisse opened the door of her bedroom a bit and peeked out.
There was the usual drinking, small talk and boozy laughter going on in the living-room. Everyone had already had dinner. Her mother was in the hallway, diagonally across from her bedroom, talking to Jack Lennard, a mature, rather thickset sort of man. He had been a friend of the Mantells for years and Charisse remembered him with feelings of distaste.
For one thing, ever since she had been thirteen, he had always been feeling her up whenever he visited the house. He would put his hand on her asscheeks and sensuously slide it up and down, his palms or his elbows were always sort of moving up and down over her budding titties. He made it all seem like some kind of accident, but Charisse knew that he really meant it. If he had the nerve to boldly feel her sex organs the way he did when her father and mother were in the apartment, she wondered what would happen if they were out. She was glad that he had never happened upon her when she was alone in the apartment. She felt he would have raped her without the slightest hesitation. She really didn't care much about Jack Lennard.
She felt the same way about his wife Cora Lennard, who was an attractive brunette of about thirty-five with a voluptuous well-preserved body. Her face was always faultlessly made up, even if it was a bit too heavy on the mascara and lipstick. What Charisse disliked about Cora was her constant air of supercilious sophistication and snobbishness. She affected a kind of super-cool which she let you know in a subtle way that nothing could break down.
Her mother and Cora were deep in conversation in the hallway near her bedroom. As she strained to catch some of their "woman-talk" she was surprised to see Cora press against her mother's body. One of her hands descended to Minna's lush asscheek and fondled it, while the other was actually grasping one of her mother's breasts–and squeezing it! Her mother surprised her by covering Cora's hand on her breast with her own, and smilingly removing Cora's hand from her ass, she whispered something to her. Cora's wide mouth opened wider, her red lips emphasizing her big white teeth. Amazed, Charisse watched her mother lead Cora into her bedroom. Her curiosity overcoming her surprise, Charisse tiptoed to the door of her mother's bedroom. The door was closed, but light was streaming through the large keyhole of the door. Charisse knew from secretly watching her mother undress and give herself beauty treatments before retiring that the keyhole afforded a complete view of the room if a light was on. There was a moment of guilty hesitation for her, and then she gasped as she placed her eye to the keyhole. Maybe all those gossip columns and nasty remarks had something to them! Maybe where there was so much smoke there was also a little fire!
She tried hard to understand what she was seeing and even hearing through the door. There was her mother lying back on the bed, her expensive silk evening dress with its skirt tucked up to her waist. Her beautiful legs were clad in sheer nylons, but she was wearing no girdle, the stockings were rolled. And she was wearing no panties either! The sight of her mother's alabaster white hips, her exposed reddish bush hair and moist, pink cuntlips shocked her.
Hypnotized by the unusual sight she heard her mother laugh and say, "You'll have to make this one a quickie, Cora darling. If we stay up here too long, they'll miss us both in the living room!"
"You know I'm an artist and don't like to be rushed, Minna. Is Mr. Dildo still in your third dresser drawer, under you slips?"
Apparently it was, because she saw Cora go to the drawer and take out a peculiar looking harness–it looked just like a garter-belt with a huge red knockwurst hanging from it. She saw Cora lift up her dress, remove it and after taking off her slip and panties, she strapped on the object she had called Mr. Dildo. Now Charisse recognized it for what it was, a huge imitation red rubber male sex-organ, complete down to the two testicles dangling from it.
"Take off your bra, Minna," she heard Cora say, breathing heavily. "You know I like to feel them!"
As her mother removed her bra, she saw her lush white tits and their huge pinkly erect nipples completely exposed to Cora's questing hands. Cora began to knead them and she could see her mother's nipples stiffening and erecting under the kneading and caressing of her titties. She saw her mother spread her legs, her mouth forming an anguished invitation. Cora leaned forward between her mother's legs and with a grunt of triumph she shoved the dildo completely up into Minna's moist vagina.
As Cora began to slide the huge rubber penis in and out of her mother's pussy, she could hear her mother's gasps of pleasure. Then Cora's movements became more violent and she could actually hear the threshing of the two women's bodies. Her mother began to moan as if she were in some kind of pain, while Cora's breathing sounded as if she were running a race.
Suddenly she heard her mother whisper urgently, "Oh, Cora darling, shove it all the way up my hole . . . ah . . . all the way up . . . I want to feel those red balls slapping up against my cunt!"
Charisse knew that what she was seeing was a sex act, she had enough lectures in hygiene at school to know that.
But she had only heard vaguely that women were sometimes lovers and that it was a very immoral thing called Lesbianism that just didn't happen among nice people. Yet here was her own mother being sexually entered by a woman-friend! It was unbelievable and yet it was happening in front of her very eyes. She had tried to imagine what having a man push his thing into her cunny would be like, she knew that when you lost your "cherry" it was supposed to hurt and that you bled from there for awhile. But this sounded as if her mother were actually enjoying the big red prick that Cora was shoving in and out of her vagina with savage rhythm.
"It's all the way up now . . . oh . . . keep ramming that prick up my cunt . . . I just love it, darling . . . oohh . . . "
She was fascinated as she watched Cora fucking her mother. They were hopelessly enmeshed in the sex act now, moaning and gasping as if nearing the end of a grueling race. She knew she was watching something forbidden and terribly immoral–who could ever imagine such a thing between her adored mother and that loud brassy Cora Lennard!"
"How does Mr. Dildo feel?" she heard Cora ask her mother. "Is he far enough up your wonderful cunt?"
"Yes, yes Cora, you're tickling my uterus right now–you can't go any further. I just love the way you fuck me! You beat any man!"
She saw Cora's solid thighs, and the red dildo going in and out, faster and faster up her mother's cunt. The whole thing was so exciting that she began to have a funny feeling in her own cunny. She touched her panties and felt that her crotch was all wet . . .
She still wondered how her mother could let a crude woman like Cora do such an intimate thing to her. Wasn't her father the only one with the right to put his prick into her mother's cunt?
Now their two bodies began to thresh up and down even more violently on the bed. Charisse felt herself getting hotter and wetter in her crotch as she watched.
"Screw me babe, screw me all the way!" she hea
rd her mother practically shriek. Charisse was aroused and bursting with curiosity about the sensation that could produce this abandoned reaction in her mother's body.
Unconsciously Charisse's hand crept down to her crotch and felt the cloth saturated with hot seepings from her cunny. She worked her fingers under the material and began to finger her pussy-lips, like she did when she was bathing, or late at night when she couldn't sleep. As she watched Cora's white asscheeks rising and falling, her finger began working with the same rhythm in her own cunt.
Faster and faster the huge, red dildo, glistening now with her mother's cuntjuice, rammed in and out of Minna's bushy twat. Charisse worked her own fingers faster and faster on that specially sensitive spot, high between her cuntlips.
"I'm coming, Cora, please fuck faster, I'm coming so good, Cora doll . . . all the way up now!" her mother practically wailed.
