Alabaster Purity with a Flaw

ONE

The purity of a woman is like a diamond, an unmarked mirror of the perfect first flower of spring – something to be looked upon with pleasure, very deep pleasure that is so exquisitely deep. It's an intrinsic pleasure that money can't buy.

Martin Church had that long-winded and self-righteous thought as he waited in the restuarant for his lunch order to arrive.

Martin was low on the town's unwritten listing of its VIPs, although Martin being Martin would have assumed he'd be highly ranked, not too far below the town's first citizen, the mayor, the two judges, police chief, fire chief and perhaps the bank presidents but certainly above clergymen, school principals, leading lawyers and accounts and the like. Well, perhaps not lawyers and certainly above the first leading lady.

Such things are conveniently composed and filed in Martin's mind.

Whether waiting for a meal, walking in the sun, or sitting snug within a comfortable lounging chair either indoors or outdoors at home, Martin's mind engineers and processes such trivia. He is, after all, a bachelor.

Surprisingly, for someone able to mentally honor a woman as pure as a diamond or an exquisite first flower, Martin could be expected to hold women in high regard, even if he ranks himself higher than the first lady.

But, oh no; basically Martin regards women as whores.

TWO

As superintendent of the town's water purification system, Martin is well used to being told how important is his role within the community which has consolidated his dedication to his duties as well as over-inflated his ego.

Because his rating of himself on the notional board of the town's listing of elite citizens is within his own mind, no harm is being done. But Martin's belief that women are whores poses a threat if he were to act in some manner to go on a whore hunt with extermination in mind.

People like Martin with such a warp to their minds are a menace.

There was a problem (note usage of the past tense) in both these matters simply because Martin kept those two extreme thoughts to himself. Had he expressed thoughts like that to people aware that he kept a powerful rifle, a shotgun and a ceremonial sword based on the design of an ancient beheading sword in his study, Martin would have been taken into custody and a medical examination ordered.

Eventually Martin's unhealthy thoughts were exhumed, via his loins. That occurred in a most beautiful way.

One day Martin went into Angela's Place for his midday meal. Although the proprietor was female and all the personnel were female, Martin found it necessary to frequent this restaurant simply because it served the best fare in town. The best in the region, and that was a fact.

On this day a vision of loveliness came to his table to take his order. The new waitress was beautiful. She smiled and in a musical voice declared it was a lovely day. It wasn't because it was raining and Martin knew that, although privately regarding it as a most wonderful day as rainwater was pouring into his reservoirs up in the hills.

She bent over to place the menu in front of him and Martin approved, as the top of her uniform was buttoned, preventing him from seeing her bosom – not like the carnally-stimulating displays with which other waitresses regaled his senses.

A soft fragrance of lavender drifted so daintily to his nostrils. She didn't provide a name, nor did Martin ask. He was content to think of her as Miss Purity – she was a pure as the purest water.

For reasons unknown to him, none of the other wenches came to Martin's reserved table. Miss Purity became his hand maiden and he came to adore her. Gradually, rather than looking down or away, Miss Purity began indulging in eye contact and her hitherto painted smiles became softer and then warmer.

In his office at the purification works high in the hills, Martin began looking at his wall clock as early as 10.30 thinking about lunch. Eventually he began thinking of Miss Purity when in bed at night and his hand trembled as he reached for his erection.

THREE

Spring came suddenly. There had been three days of heavy rain and strong winds and on the fourth day instead of rain and wind the temperature warmed and that morning it snowed. Throughout the day the temperature rose and didn't drop greatly during the night.

Next morning, with the miraculous way of nature, it was spring, with flower bulbs shooting and birds chirping in frenzy.

Martin had slept three nights up at his workplace, as that what was a responsible superintendent does. Although the four dams have automatic sluicing systems he set his alarm to wake him every four hours through the night to monitor the water level of each dam, to ensure the systems were operating perfectly.

Martin was aware that machinery sometimes malfunctions and that hundreds of families lay sleeping in the valleys below his dams.There were other men on duty, but he had to make his own checks for peace of mind as he was the superintendent.

Martin had not been to lunch for those three days.

When he arrived on the fourth day Miss Purity met the exhausted man at the door and taking him by the hand led him to his table.

Other waitresses watched this and giggled: Olga the foreign waitress was going a bit over the top with po-faced Mr Church. They laughed louder when after eating his lunch, Martin's head began to droop and nod and finally slumped forward on to the table where he slept.

That laughter died abruptly when Olga, coming back into the restaurant with meals for other patrons, saw Martin was the reason for the laughter. One possessive glare from her and the other waitresses busied themselves elsewhere.

Olga went and spoke to Angela.

"I don't know if you should, Olga. Mr Church is rather odd, a bit of a recluse."

"I wish to do it, Mrs Stanton."

"Oh, very well Olga, but listen to me. Mr Church has had a troubled life with women. He talked to me about it one Christmas Eve when we had rather over-imbibed and he was the last of my guests to leave. It was well after midnight.

"He told me his mother abandoned him as a baby and he was shunted around relatives as he grew up, some of his foster mothers treating him very badly. As a young man he became engaged but the girl broke it off to chase after another older man. Later in life he married and was very happy until finding his wife in bed with two young neighbors.

"He confessed he does not really like women, Olga. In fact he used a term that rather shocked me."

Olga was undeterred.

"It's only for a few hours, Mrs Stanton."

"Very well, Olga, I shall assist you get him to your room."

Olga, who'd immigrated to the country three years earlier with her parents, was on a working holiday around the country. Angela had been short of a waitress and when Olga said she'd be prepared to work double shifts but wanted weekends free, Angela took her on, even offering Olga a room in her accommodation behind the restaurant, which was accepted. This decision was to be expected because Angela admired the young woman who seemed rather reserved.

Olga returned to her bedroom at 11.00 with Angela. They found Martin deeply asleep.

"Come sleep in my bed, Olga, or take the sofa in the lounge. Tomorrow is Sunday so we all have a free day and can sleep in late.

"No, I'd rather sleep on the floor and be near him when he wakes, as he'll be rather confused about where he is."

"Very well, you're a grown woman."

"It's the right thing to do, Mrs Stanton."

"So it is, but look, call me Angela. All the other girls do and most of them are younger than you."

"Yes Mrs Stanton."

Angela sighed and went off.

FOUR

About 1:30 the bedroom light switched on, waking Olga. She looked up and saw Mr Church, looking very refreshed.

"Why am I here?" he asked pleasantly.

"You fell into an exhausted sleep across the restaurant table."

"And was rescued by Miss Purity."

"Pardon?"

"That's my name for you."

"But my name is Olga Doroshenko, I am from the Ukraine."

"Yes, no doubt. But you have become my Miss Purity."

"That's a lovely name," Olga said, her moving lips revealing she was saying it silently and repeatedly.

Martin looked at her bemused and then told her it had been a lovely thing for her to do, rescuing him from ridicule.

"You are here with the permission of Mrs Stanton."

"Who is Mrs Stanton?"

"She is called Angela."

"Oh, of course, but not by you?."

"No, she is my employer."

"Oh my goodness, you are so pure."

"Pardon."

"It doesn't matter," laughed the man, almost old enough to be Olga's father. "But you should not have slept on the floor – it's so uncomfortable, so demeaning."

"Demeaning?"

"It's mot good enough for you to sleep on the floor, my princess."

Olga colored.

"You think I'm a princess?"

"I do, now you come into your bed and I shall sleep on the floor."

Olga's gentle smile remained but her mouth firmed; it opened and she said: "Stay, I shall come and join you, make love to you."

Martin's eyes widened, his jaw dropped. Was not this vision of perfection untouchable?

"No, you cannot," he said sternly, but the voice was weak and quavering.

"Here I come," Olga said defiantly, confident in the knowledge that men are always men.

She stood, and her thick gown dropped to the floor. Martin feasted on her bodily delight.

As with her white, unblemished face, her slender alabaster body was molded almost to perfection. Heat began rising within Martin's body and he knew he must yield; he was unable to resist this offer of such magnificence.

"Come to me, my princess," he croaked, throwing the bedclothes back, expecting Olga to come snuggling in against him.

Instead she chose to slide up over the end of the bed, tongue flicking like a snake's. She pulled herself along by working her elbows, pausing to pull down his underpants.

Martin's cock was still flaccid, as this had not been an expectation. Olga's tongue gently ran across the end and Martin tensed, waiting for more. But that was it.

"More," he groaned, losing himself in unfathomable depths.

"Not until you offer me an object of desire," she replied, softly and bereft of even a touch of disenchantment. She truly was his princess.

The sensuality of her remark upped to blood flow to Martin's penis and it began to swell, with Olga rising to her knees and watching its blossoming with avid concentration. For a tiny moment in time Martin was absolutely convinced that she was totally absorbed in that resurrection of a male's instrument of reproduction or lustful strumming.

Her angelic smile ripped through to his core, producing his most powerful erections ever.

Martin groaned and she soothed, "Soon darling" and her lips closed around the helmet-like head of his circumcision.

Martin appreciated he was moving headlong into total capitulation of his latent view of sexuality, that he was instrumental in making a whore out of his beloved object of purity. He was defiling her, corrupting her innocence. But gradually he became aware that her cock-sucking prowess was not that of an amateur.

Just as his lower body was gathering itself to burst through the small inner core of his penis, Olga slowed her administrations until finally allowing his rigid phallus to fall from her soft mouth.

She snaked upwards and began sucking Martin's right nipple; his penis in uncontrolled flight desperately sought her vagina but could only find her navel – she was still draped over him, too far down.

At that moment, Martin knew that everything he stood for was on the line, that if he totally yielded, there would be no way back. He chose to yield.

Grasping Olga by the hips he lifted her and drew her upwards. Olga the object of perfection but with a tiny flaw, sighed, and with her left hand guided his rigid rod into her vagina, knowing that was the place it was destined to reside – short-term of course.

Angela looked into the bedroom just before 8:00, seeing the two nudes locked in each other's arms, soundly asleep.

"Good," she said. "I love a spring wedding."

THE END