Room with a Secret Ch. 08

Chapter 8

"I have secured the services of a cleaner. I thought at my age..."

"Sensible," said Jim and then the penny dropped. He looked sideways at Mr Crowfoot, "She wouldn't by any chance not be some old woman in headscarf who has been cleaning for years and years, fag hanging out of the corner of her mouth, but rather a young and pretty girl?"

Mr Crowfoot gave a rather conspiratorial smile. "I'm sure you'll find out in good time."

And, indeed, Jim did. One morning not many days later he was standing at his window and saw a young girl bicycle up to Mr Crowfoot's gate and wheel the machine in. Standing there he felt his penis rise as he shook his head at the naughtiness or rather badness of his aged friend across the way. Not only was the girl young but she was as black as black could be. Of course, Jim had seen pictures of naked black girls in his suspect magazines but... Such girls were not commonplace in the area. Perhaps work was not easy to come by.

Had Mr Crowfoot already been playing his games with her? Had he waited until she had settled into a routine of cleaning the house, dusting and washing -- given her a few days to become used to the house - before settling himself down in that special room, seated at his desk, until she entered to begin cleaning and then making the sort of suggestions Jim knew he would make? Suggestions she would not be able to do anything with but comply. Had he waited for her to become used to the house or not? Perhaps beginning with the comparatively innocent suggestion she dusted the room naked so as not to mess up her clothes before moving to the rather more direct request that, whilst she was polishing the brass or the silver, she polished his knob as well.

The thought of seeing the young girl naked more than appealed to Jim. The thought of contrasting his pale skin with her exotic blackness arousing. The thought of, no doubt, black as anything curls down below, more than enough to bring his penis to attention. Was she perhaps a virgin, completely unused to anything to do with penises? Surely his friend would invite him around to 'sample' his new 'acquisition.'

Jim stood there looking at the now closed door over the road. So annoying he had to go to work and not casually walk across the street to visit his old friend, take a cup of coffee with him and just happen to ask about Mr Crowfoot's new cleaner -- and very much hope much would be revealed; not least the young girl's naked body. And so it was not that day, nor the next but the one after Jim could not contain himself any longer. He would be late for work.

"Well, tell me," he commanded as he sat with Mr Crowfoot drinking coffee. The man had said nothing about his new cleaner. Surely, he must know Jim was more than intrigued. Mr Crowfoot sat there looking as innocent as anything.

"About what Jim?"

"Your new cleaner -- I've seen her across the street."

"Have you now?"

"Well, have you?"

"Have I what?"

Jim looked more than exasperated and it caused Mr Crowfoot to burst into laughter. "Of course, I have, Jim. I was wondering when your curiosity would get the better of you."

"You've fucked her? Was she a virgin?"

"She certainly thinks she is. Very virginal. Thinks she's never seen a cock, still less sucked one. But of course..."

"Not on the Pill then?"

"No, Jim, it'll have to be rubber time for you again. Me of course... well, somewhat different."

"And she remembers nothing?"

"Each time she comes in as innocent as anything with her duster." He chuckled. "It is such a pleasure. Just seeing her in nothing... but her yellow duster."

And as if on cue there was a knock at the study door.

"I didn't realise you had company. I'll come back later." The young girl turned as if to leave the study, duster in hand. But that was not to be. Was just not going to happen, not with both Mr Crowfoot and his apprentice looking up with such interest.

"No, no, carry on."

Jim could not help staring. A tall girl, very pretty in a different way to the prettiness he was used to; a woman from people used to a different climate from England; a people perhaps at one time used to going around under the hot sun naked. He could but admire the deep brown, almost black of her skin. It seemed to shine with health. Even across the room he could see her eyes were hazel brown, her teeth so white, showing between wonderfully generous lips. He even caught a glimpse of pink tongue.

Naked under the hot sun maybe but not in Mr Crowfoot's study. A very neatly and conservatively dressed young woman. White blouse, black knee length skirt and sensible black shoes. Perhaps she thought it an appropriate uniform for cleaning a clearly respectable aged gentleman's large house. Perhaps her mother thought that.

Of course, the conversation had to change. The men could hardly discuss the young girl's attributes with her now in the room. Well, actually they could given the room's properties but Jim was certainly leaving any first move up to Mr Crowfoot. The old boy talked away about other things. His collections, whether he should have the house redecorated and asking about Jim's work (and about Sophie and Jenny).

An unexpected squeak, a gasp from the otherwise silent girl. Both men looked and saw the girl standing stock still be the cabinet with Mr Crowfoot's dildo collection.

"It's just my collection, Annette, handle them carefully when you dust them. Some are a little fragile, others very solid but it would not do to drop them however hard they might seem."

The girl's hand was to her mouth. "But... but... but, they're..."

"Artificial penises, Annette, representations of the erect male sexual organ for personal female gratification. Surely you have one at home for bedtime."

"No, no..." Both hands were to her mouth now.

"Some are very realistic. Beautifully carved. Some quite valuable so take care."

"I've never seen..."

Mr Crowfoot got up and went to her. He put his arm around her shoulder. "Never seen what, Annette?"

"A man's... you know... thing."

"You're a virgin?"

"Of course, Mr Crowfoot, I'm not married yet."

"Never seen. Not even... a soft penis?"

Her head shook.

"No brothers, your father?"

Again. a look of shock and an emphatic shake of the head. No easy family nudity then.

"Oh, well, we'll leave you to polish them. You'll learn a bit..."

"They're so big."

"And hard of course. The vagina is very accommodating."

"I could never..."

Mr Crowfoot winked at Jim. Jim was sure Annette's vagina had already been very accommodating. Had probably already accepted several of the dildo's and certainly Mr Crowfoot's hard and fleshy penis.

"You could, I am sure. Think about it. I'm sure you'll have pleasant thoughts. I must go and get Jim another cup of coffee."

It was a slightly strained silence. Jim unsure what to say to the girl over at the cabinet, carefully polishing dildo after dildo with her duster. Taking them into her hands very carefully but undoubtedly examining them. A shy glance at him and then clear embarrassment as he caught her with her thumb running over the wrinkled preputial representation of one of the wooden carved penises.

"I've been thinking, Annette," said Mr Crowfoot re-entering the room. In his hands a tray with a coffee jug and cups. The girl looked up, the dildo held in her right hand rather incongruous with the yellow duster and her neat clothes.

Mr Crowfoot carefully placed the tray down on a table. "No one need know but would you like to see a penis? Not my old, wizened thing but young Jim's here. Educational for you. You will enjoy the experience."

Her head was shaking.

"I'm sure Jim would not mind. Take your clothes off Jim. Show Annette your penis."

The girl's mouth hung open as Jim complied. Jacket and shirt, socks. The girl seemed frozen to the spot. Down came his trousers and pants and Jim stepped out.

"There you are, Annette, a man with no clothes on. A bit different from women but two arms, two legs. Jim would you pour the coffee." So casually said.

Her eyes were on his genitalia. He had not erected -- yet.

"All soft at present, not like the dildoes. Come," he beckoned with his hand, "come and sit down and take a closer look."

Annette seemed almost in a daze as she came and sat next to Mr Crowfoot on the Chesterfield, her eyes looking down the whole time, but Jim could see the occasional peak upward -- at his penis.

Jim moved so he was facing the girl, his legs almost touching Annette's tightly closed knees.

"There, you see Annette, one set of male genitalia. Penis and balls -- two of those." Mr Crowfoot paused. "Do you like?"

The girl was sitting looking both confused and interested all at the same time. In her hand still the duster and dildo.

"Would you like to touch or... well, there you are, just for you. Jim is showing you how men's penises become hard. He is having an erection."

And Jim was. It was the suggestion she might touch. It set him off. It was a perfect demonstration of an erection, right in front of Annette. Textbook perfect. A swelling, a swinging around and a rising up and then jerky, filling movements as the penis both attained its full length and girth together with its upward angle. At the last moment before the blood ceased to be pumped in, the foreskin retracted all by itself; a peeling back, exposing Jim's knob to Annette's clearly startled gaze. Her eyes had not left it the whole time it had been moving and growing.

For Jim the experience was wonderful. Exposing himself and then erecting so freely in front of this innocent young girl. What might he shortly be doing with her? He smiled encouragingly, but she was not looking up at his face but at what had just grown up before her. Neither moved. Jim just stood there, taking in her pretty round face with her rather flat, squashed nose and those so generous lips, almost dark but with that hint of pinkness showing within. Would she suck? Of course, she would, if not that day then another. Mr Crowfoot and his study would see to that. A delightful inevitability.

"I... I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be seeing..."

"See how well carved the penis in your hand is, Annette, how well it compares to Jim's organ." The girl looked from one to the other. "Put down the duster, there's a good girl. Take hold, compare."

The reluctance on her face so evident, perhaps not just upbringing and sense of propriety, but perhaps a distaste for men and a preference for women -- was that it? Jim asked, "Do you have a boyfriend, Annette? A girlfriend?"

She frowned. I... I am seeing a young man; we go to the pictures and things. You know, dances."

Mr Crowfoot had evidently asked the question before, "but you have not handled his penis, have you Annette."

"No, of course not!"

"Well, handle Jim's. It'll be good for you, educational."

It was a command. Annette had to obey. It was what the study made women do. Obey men. Slowly Annette put down the yellow duster beside her, slowly she reached extending her forefinger and touched. The erect penis quivered -- how could it not? Jim just so excited seeing the girl's black finger -- so exotic, so different -- reaching out to touch and then fingers starting to close around his erect penis. It most certainly jerked, almost out of her hand. Annette held it firmly.

"What do you think, Annette? Do feel free to feel more, stroke it if you like. Think of it like a pet animal. Stroke it, tickle it, play with it. Use both hands."

Her hand moved from grasping to stroking, her fingers very much doing what Mr Crowfoot said, caressing the smooth penile skin; fingertips touching the shining bulb of the head, fingering around the corona, exploring its shape. Jim just stared at the sight, revelling in the feeling of the so innocent girl's touch. Her other hand moved under him and lifted his scrotum, fingers closing around the testes within.

"Men do so like their penises being stroked. Tickle Jim under the head of his penis, like you would under the chin of a little kitten. Yes, just there!" The old man turned his head to Jim and winked, "Is that good for you Jim?"

Jim nodded. It was all very pleasant!

"The head?" Queried Annette.

"The knob at the end of Jim's penis. The shiny, rounded end. You know why it's rounded don't you?"

The girl nodded, "Yes, Mr Crowfoot, so it can go into a woman and make babies."

"And for pleasure, Annette. And for pleasure. I'm sure the thought makes you feel a little, shall I say 'funny.' A warm feeling that you would rather like to feel a penis in your vagina. I am sure you are getting quite wet between your legs."

Annette's hand, the hand that had been stroking Jim's knob flew to her mouth. Was it surprise at Mr Crowfoot knowing her little secret -- that sometimes she felt just so wet?

"See how the skin is all wrinkled just below the head," Mr Crowfoot went on. "It is mobile. You can slide that up and over the head. Go on, try."

Tentative at first but then settling into a regular movement, Jim watched and most definitely felt his foreskin being slid. Exotic black fingers masturbating him as he stood there before the young girl. Wonderful!

"That is just what men do on their own when they do not have a nice woman to bed."

"I'm sure Matthew, my young man, doesn't do that."

And the rest! Thought Jim. That was just so unlikely. In his bed at night, at the very least, Annette's Matthew would do exactly that. Would be stroking his cock. Very probably most nights in fact, and the odd morning, thinking of Annette, wondering about her naked body, wondering about fucking her, perhaps making his penis spurt all up his stomach with thoughts of his cock in her mouth, shooting his stuff again and again. Perhaps already pints of the stuff ejaculated whilst thinking of Annette. Poor Matthew; so much better if she helped him -- as she was now helping Jim.

"Don't you play with yourself sometimes, Annette. In bed don't your fingers sometimes find their way between your legs and play, stroking your tender, secret place; perhaps poking a finger or two into your vagina imagining a man; doesn't you finger find your little button and frig that until you are just so wet and..."

The shock on the girl's face as, Jim surmised Mr Crowfoot described what she so thought her secret. Perhaps she had been shocked at what she had done, at the feelings -- perhaps orgasm -- that her fingers had brought. A promise to herself never to do that again -- yet an inevitable return, again and again.

"I... I..."

"You have done that, haven't you Annette? Tell us."

A small voice, downcast eyes, "Yes. I know I shouldn't but..."

"Why shouldn't you Annette? Matthew will, I can assure you, play. Wouldn't it be nice if you both..." he paused, "exchanged hands? You play with him and he with you. Wouldn't you like to take his penis out of his trousers and make it hard like Jim's; wouldn't you like to hold and play with it; make Matthew feel really good?"

Her hand was stroking Jim's penis again, biting her lip and staring at it, her other hand fondling his balls. Evidently there was conflict in her mind. Wanting to resist but, yet, to do what Mr Crowfoot suggested, perhaps be naked in bed with Matthew, kissing and touching, skin to skin. Annette seemed to have got the hang of male masturbation and was doing it rather well. Too well in fact.

Jim came. The semen just welled up and burst from his penis -- a real fountaining all over her hands. The stuff pouring out all white over and between her lovely black fingers. It was obvious she was shocked and taken completely by surprise. No snatching away of hands but suddenly both hands were frozen, one to ejaculating cock, the other to Jim's pulsing balls

"Mr Crowfoot -- what has happened?" A shake in her voice, "is happening."

Wonderful to see her face turning to Mr Crowfoot. The surprise so evident.

"Jim has ejaculated. That is how babies are made if the man does that inside a woman's vagina. No risk on your hands of course."

"But, I thought..."

"What did you think, Annette?"

"Just... just... a little spray, not... not..." Her hands were rather covered with the stuff. A pleasure to see the white of his semen across her fingers; a pleasure to see how well he had done; a pleasure to simply see his cum there on Annette.

"Such a... mess. So... so much... so sticky... so... I thought... just a fine spray." The girl was looking at her ejaculate covered hands. Her eyes went to the duster -- the nearest cloth.

"More than a spray, Annette. It's much more than that. Men do more than that. Jim does very well. A strong youthful ejaculation. I can no longer produce like that. Of course, tidier in a vagina, all secreted away."

"But babies..."

"Yes, Annette, that's why women take their men's penises into their mouths and swallow. No mess. Much easier, and so nice for the man. All gone. Such a nice thing to do."

Annette's mouth, her so lovely and generous mouth, hung open.

"In their mouths?"

"Yes, Annette, in their mouths. Look, why don't I show you. Just lick up Jim's semen first, get the idea. You'll find you like it."

Her face still shocked but the room's effect was strong. Slowly she raised a hand to her mouth and licked. What a thrill for Jim to see her pink tongue touching and then flicking some of his warm cum into her mouth. Had he not already come he might well have found himself coming again at the sight of the girl licking away at her fingers; her flicking so pink tongue and those full, almost black, lips with... with his cum upon them.

Mr Crowfoot undid his fly and out into the open came a second penis; the second of the day for Annette. Unsurprisingly it was strongly erect. Jim made way for his friend to stand in front of Annette in his place. The young girl still in her blouse and black skirt, luckily devoid of dripping semen. It would not have done for her to go home with obvious splashes of ejaculate all down her skirt or across her blouse. They could have been washed but, actually, rather difficult for the washing to be undertaken by Annette unless the men perhaps contrived to spill coffee or something else, more innocent down her as well. Difficult outside the study. She would not remember, would not know what had been spilt or why. Would not know why she was washing skirt and blouse. Would not know what had been spilt and would be beside herself with worry at being partly undressed in the scullery. A shame the power of the room did not extend further. Rather lovely to have Annette removing her clothes and washing them naked; carrying on with her housework naked -- but of course had that been the effect of the house almost certainly Mr Crowfoot would have had her working naked every time she visited, hanging her clothes up as she entered the house just like a raincoat. A very pleasing idea.

The old man waited patiently as the girl licked her fingers. No doubt seeing a girl licking and consuming another man's cum from her fingers was pretty erotic in itself even without the thought of imminent fellation. The girl's nylon clad knees were not as tightly together as before. Jim wondered if Mr Crowfoot might be thinking of parting them. He had sort of admitted having done so before. Jim would like to see them parted, skirt, tights and knickers removed. Would like another time to roll a condom down his erection and venture inside the girl. But not now: the condom would not roll, not up his hanging and soft penis. He had lost the ability -- all over Annette's fingers.

"Must I?" The girl was looking straight at Mr Crowfoot's erection. It was pointing at her, at eye level, right at the edge of where she could focus; she was looking right down the barrel, eye to eye with the eye of his penis. Thinking, Jim imagined, that just the same would come out there as had from his penis, except not over her hands but into her mouth. What a strange thing it must be to be about to suck your first penis, see it waiting there for you to suck (though Jim suspected it might not really be her first time. She would only be thinking that it was her first. Mr Crowfoot would most certainly know!) and knowing it would spurt.