Room with a Secret Ch. 08

"It's so big. Bigger than a banana."

"You don't bite, Annette," Jim cautioned unnecessarily, "treat it like a lolly or perhaps a stick of seaside rock."

"More like a cucumber," she said, "so big."

"But neither green nor cool."

Mr Crowfoot looked at Jim, "Let her be. In her own time."

Tentatively the girl leant closer. It was not coercion, it was not two men forcing a young woman into a sexual act; it was not coercion, well, not quite; the room would make her do the act but by influencing her mind so she would choose to suck; the room did not put a hand on the back of Annette's head and force her down onto the erection, the effect was much more subtle.

Mr Crowfoot certainly had control and self-restraint -- had it been Jim he was sure he would have pushed forward. Instead Mr Crowfoot just stood there patiently waiting -- certainly with no loss of hardness to his penis; perhaps he was revelling in the anticipation.

Annette's lips touched. Jim could see their soft flesh giving a little where they touched the head of Mr Crowfoot's cock. Even in his post orgasmic state Jim could appreciate just how lovely Annette's lips were, so dark and importantly so full. Just so right for fellating a cock -- if Annette just knew it. How happy her Matthew would be if she was to do that; regularly caressing, then gently sucking and perhaps after a time energetically emptying his balls down her throat.

So foolish to have come all over her fingers. If he had not, he too could be enjoying the feeling of those lips sliding over his cock. It could have been his penis, his knob half in the young girl's mouth. It could have been him easing his penis further into her mouth, rather than Mr Crowfoot. Another time, another time.

Her face, the way her eyes were wide, showed shock and surprise at what she was doing.

"You are enjoying doing that to Mr Crowfoot, Annette. Close your eyes and try and take as much of his penis into your mouth as you can. Deeper, deeper, there's a good girl. Enjoy its warmth, its size, its shape." It was all so what Jim would like. If only he had not come so quickly. Good, nonetheless, to see the girl relax and suck contentedly on Mr Crowfoot's cock, trying to get as much of it into her mouth -- down her throat almost -- as she could.

"Relax now, Annette, up you come. Now lick it like an ice cream. I'm sure you like those." Jim gritted his teeth. The sight of her pink tongue slipping up his friend's cock so frustrating with his own hanging uselessly -- impotently -- down between his legs.

Mr Crowfoot was smiling and nodding Jim on. "Keep talking," he said.

"You like cream, Annette, and soon you will be enjoying Mr Crowfoot's warm cream. You're looking forward to that." And, of course, with Mr Crowfoot having told her how she would enjoy licking up Jim's ejaculation, she would enjoy the second load when it came from Mr Crowfoot. She could not help liking it. The room saw to that.

Annette so keen for Mr Crowfoot's semen that when the old man shuddered and shook with orgasm -- so much so that Jim readied himself to catch him in case he fell -- Jim did not so much as see one drop appear on her lips. Even when she, at last, released Mr Crowfoot's limp and emptied penis there was not a hint of semen anywhere to be seen. Her tongue had been busy licking up any final seepage. It was as washed as if Mr Crowfoot had just had a bath.

"Thank you my dear. I think you have dusted and cleaned the study enough. Tidy yourself and carry on. Perhaps the dining room or kitchen?"

Annette got up off the Chesterfield, smoothed down her skirt and walked to the door. Jim had almost thought she would curtsey. Perhaps another time he would have her do that before sucking his cock. What a rather exciting young girl Mr Crowfoot had brought into his house.

"How was that Jim!"

The young man looked at the now closed door, "Phew! Yes! Just so... well, Annette's innocence, it and her lovely skin, it was all... I so liked how you got her to admit she masturbated. The thought of her in bed. I've got to see that."

The old man smiled conspiratorially. "She's like that every time of course. Such sweet innocence. How about we get her to think she's alone in bed another time. The room will allow the suggestion I am sure. In her head she thinks she is alone, but we'll be there sitting and watching. And after she's frigged herself to orgasm would you like her to fall asleep so you can pretend to be creeping in on her and interfering with her asleep in bed. Fucking her whilst she sleeps -- with a condom of course!"

"Naked," breathed Jim. "I haven't seen her yet. I almost can't believe that she stayed clothed. You've already fucked her, haven't you?"

Mr Crowfoot's look was hardly one of embarrassment, contrition or denial. "Twice," he said, "but of course she remembers nothing. I just could not resist." He chuckled, "and what else might you like to do with Annette other days whilst she keeps my study sparkling clean."

"Her face when I came, she just hadn't expected that."

"She forgets what men do and is shocked every time."

The two men sat and talked about the girl. Mr Crowfoot tidily tucking his penis away. It had been exercised. Elsewhere in the house young Annette went about her job. Dusting and polishing, doing Mr Crowfoot's laundry. Quite without recollection of what had gone on in the study or any idea at all that her employer and his friend were planning all sorts of sexual assault upon her body. And, indeed, rather worse had she but known it - not just upon her.

"Annette's mother is coming to see me next week," remarked Mr Crowfoot to his young friend, "to check how her daughter is doing in her first job. She is a rather large and an ever so jolly lady."

"Oh, you wouldn't..."

Mr Crowfoot smiled his rather conspiratorial smile. "Oh, I rather think I will."

"Daughter and mother?"

"No, not together, too complicated. It'll be just Annette's mother. No Annette. Do you fancy trying an older woman? Maybe she is on the Pill. I haven't asked -- well, she was not seated in my study on her first visit and it was not the sort of question for polite conversation, certainly not with Annette sitting there all demur beside her mother. No Annette this time, but her mother here in my study... I shall ask a lot of questions. I expect I shall, well, perform with her."

Mr Crowfoot had confided in Jim a liking for women in uniform; indeed, it had been Nurse Evans in uniform when Jim had first discovered the remarkable properties of Mr Crowfoot's secret room.

It was not the room's doing, it did not attract women to itself, but certainly a uniformed young woman came to visit Mr Crowfoot. It followed from a burglary to his house, indeed. Mr Crowfoot was visibly upset at this violation of his privacy. Jim too, was shocked and felt for the old man, though he could not help contrasting the invasion of Mr Crowfoot's home by person or persons unknown with the old boy's easy invasion of young women's undergarments. Was there a certain poetic justice in what had happened?

The WPC had parked her panda car, an Austin 1100, outside Mr Crowfoot's house and stepped out. It was Jim who let her in and took her to Mr Crowfoot. He was sitting looking not a little shocked in his sitting room, a steadying cup of tea to his side. WPC Cartwright accepted Jim's offer of a cup. When he returned, she was interviewing the old man and Jim sat quietly as she asked questions and wrote in her notebook with a biro. It gave Jim the opportunity to look at her. She was very nice.

What a pretty girl, and it might well be that girls like a man in uniform, but Jim too thought that there was something in much the same way about a pretty girl in a uniform. She sat there in her dark blue uniform, knee length skirt, dark tights (presumably) jacket with four brass buttons and epaulettes, white man-like blouse and that funny little black short two ribbon tie WPCs wore completing her smart uniform. Beside her on the sofa her hat, black brimmed and white, rounded like a bowler with cap badge and distinctive black and white chequering. She, herself, had lovely, rounded cheeks, a sweet mouth which seemed so ready to break into a pixie like grin (not that she was doing much of that) and wide-open blue eyes under her shortish brown hair, hair which had the delightful tendency to curl at the ends. Yes, he liked what he saw.

The interview over and the house inspected, the WPC stood in the hallway outside the sitting room and close to the study door, clearly about to take her leave.

"Might I ask you a few questions now?" Mr Crowfoot walked a few paces into his study and then seated himself as if expecting an affirmative answer.

Jim swallowed. Surely Mr Crowfoot was not really going to use the influence of the study on the young WPC. Not even he would be so bold... or would he?

"Yes, Mr Crowfoot, of course." She stepped forward, so unsuspecting into Mr Crowfoot's so comfortable room.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" It was a very direct question and nothing at all to do with WPC Cartwright's investigation. Nothing at all. Quite, quite different. Jim had noted the lack of wedding or engagement ring. She was not married.

Mr Crowfoot was really going to do it. Jim did not think he would have had the confidence at all to do that. Mr Crowfoot was going to probe the young WPC's sexual experience as a preliminary to probing her physically. He knew Mr Crowfoot too well to imagine the old boy's plan was anything else, that he would not seek to take advantage of yet another young woman who had come within his grasp. And Jim could not help it. Already his penis was swelling at the thought of investigating beneath WPC Cartwright's uniform. What a pretty face.

As usual out came the details. The room had its effect. The young WPC a little startled at the question but then out it all came as Jim closed the door, rather symbolically cutting off her means of escape. Yes, indeed she did have a boyfriend. Given how pretty she was it was difficult to imagine her being without! Yes, they had regular sexual relations and (how useful!) she was on the Pill.

Jim shivered. He knew what that meant for him. He was going to fuck her. He really was -- for real and without a condom. Quite a strange feeling to know that; to look at the WPC and know what he would do; to already be mentally undressing her and wondering about her body beneath her neat uniform. He watched the WPC settle her bottom onto the Chesterfield and put her hat down beside her. Jim pulled up a chair and sat down.

Being Mr Crowfoot, the old man went further, asking intimate questions about orgasms and whether she liked sucking cock. Such inappropriate, such unusual questions -- but not for Mr Crowfoot. Quite amazing, to be sitting there with the uniformed young woman and hearing her answering a question about sucking upon erect penises, all whilst wearing her smart police uniform. Yes, she did indeed and very much liked her boyfriend going down on her as well. It was an exciting image in his mind. WPC Cartwright upon a bed, naked and with her thighs spread and this boyfriend of hers pushing his face into her sex. Sitting there neatly in her uniform was such a contrast to that image. Jim was sure it would not be long before Mr Crowfoot had her naked.

"Any questions for the constable, Jim?"

He had been quiet, letting Mr Crowfoot do the talking. Now he spoke and asked a question he had been wondering about since the WPC had been interviewing Mr Crowfoot. He had not seen a pocket in her skirt for one, nor had he seen the shape of one at her side -- and he had been looking. "Do you carry a truncheon like the men?" It was not at all a question about sex. Mr Crowfoot looked a little surprised.

WPC Cartwright nodded and reached for her handbag. From it she drew out a short wooden truncheon, a 'lady truncheon' as it was known. Perhaps half the length of the full wooden truncheon, bulbous one end and with a series of four turned rings on the other for grip; between the last two rings a leather strap was looped and bound. It looked to Jim rather phallic. A wooden dildo in a handbag. A wooden dildo could, at a pinch, no doubt be used as a weapon! Shown and then replaced in the handbag.

Jim was in the study, Mr Crowfoot's study, a place where 'anything goes,' he could ask her whatever he liked and did, "Have you ever used that on yourself?"

WPC Cartwright raised an eyebrow. Such a pretty movement.

"Fucked yourself with it, I mean." It was not quite the most elegant way of putting it. It made Mr Crowfoot smile. Perhaps at the lack of style in the question; perhaps where it was leading.

A lovely shrug of the shoulders, "Of course, all the girls do. 'Wetting the cock' we call it."

An initiation rite in effect? Jim wondered what the men did with their full-sized truncheons. He could not imagine many wives and girlfriends had not succumbed to a request to poke them with it. Men will be men...

"I think Jim would like to see."

"I have to be... worked up to..."

"But you are feeling very worked up, my dear. Quite hot with sexual excitement. You probably feel you need to take that jacket off."

It was starting. Mr Crowfoot was having his way. Visibly she was becoming aroused, Jim could see her colouring, could see her moving her legs. The WPC stood, not to take her leave. Most certainly not yet. She had things to show the men. The hat was soon being joined on the Chesterfield by WPC Cartwright's other clothing. One by one Mr Crowfoot specified them and, one by one, they joined the hat. Such a pleasure to sit and watch the young WPC stripping. Mr Crowfoot did not hurry the process. He liked to savour a slow disrobing as much as the next man -- or Jim.

"Your brassiere," instructed Mr Crowfoot leaning forward, his eyes sparkling.

The nearly naked WPC was not a big girl in the breast department, but she was most certainly not flat chested. Enough for a handful each but nothing more, very rounded with dark nipples, the pigmentation taking the cue from her hair. All pleasing. Very pleasing.

"Well, my dear, I think there is only one piece of clothing to come off and then you can show us how you use your lady truncheon. What piece of clothing is that?"

"My knickers, Mr Crowfoot."

"Indeed. Off with them, then."

It was Jim's turn to lean forward, staring as her hands took hold of the elastic and rolled them downwards revealing a charming triangle of brown hair, not curled but straight and a lighter shade than the hair on her head. Inside his own 'knickers' his penis strained for release and the opportunity to probe beyond the brown triangle. He knew he would have his chance.

"The truncheon, constable, show us what you do with it whilst still standing."

Probably it had been in bed or in an armchair -- if she had 'wet the cock' just the once. Maybe she had developed a liking for the wooden dildo when her boyfriend was not available and it was often used.

The young woman reached again into her handbag and brought out the wooden weapon but rather than insert it between her legs she raised it upwards looking at it as she grasped it firmly in her hand. Jim eyes widened, surely she was not going to... but she was. A tentative and so sexual lick and then she was fellating it. Quite amazing to see, WPC's lovely lips rounded around the wooden truncheon. Suitably wettened, she brought it downwards, the bulbous end uppermost and spread her thighs. Instinctively Jim moved from his chair and half crouched to get a better look; perhaps a rather rude thing to do, trying to see more of a woman's 'parts,' as if trying to see up her skirt. So good, though, to see her actually rubbing herself with the knob end, up and down her labia before, ever so slowly, she began to push it upwards, clearly with its end properly positioned. Gradually there was less and less of the truncheon to be seen until, with a satisfied smile on her face, WPC Cartwright closed her thighs together.

"All gone! My party trick -- not that I do it at parties! Just with my boyfriend."

Jim thought she would go down a ball at the police station on a long night shift when not a lot happened. She could certainly entertain the boys in blue.

"A hidden pocket rather than your handbag!"

"A bit uncomfortable really but I can walk around." And she did, giving Mr Crowfoot and Jim the opportunity to admire her naked bottom and body generally.

"And does your boyfriend remove it?"

"Of course he does, he tugs on the strap."

"Not room for both, eh? May I?" said Mr Crowfoot.

It was Mr Crowfoot's study however much Jim would have liked to have reached and tugged on the leather strap, and so it was Mr Crowfoot's hand that went between the girl's soft thighs and pulled down on the strap. The lady truncheon was shiny with wetness now. Without being asked she settled herself back on the Chesterfield and spread her legs wide before reinserting the wooden mock penis. It gave Mr Crowfoot and Jim the most detailed view they could have! Once inserted she began to move it in and out, rotating it a little. It was fascinating. Then her movement changed as rather than holding the truncheon by its grip she used just the leather strap to pull it out, pushing on the end to make it go inwards. Wonderful to watch. Undoubtedly both men were imagining doing that with their own 'truncheons.'

"Might Jim pull it out now?"

Mr Crowfoot was such a considerate host. Jim was delighted to be able to reach for the strap when WPC Cartwright again stood up.

"Do you sometimes play with your boyfriend's penis as if it was a truncheon?"

WPC Cartwright's so pretty eyes looked down at the floor, "yes," she said.

"Perhaps you might show me with Jim's 'truncheon."

A cue for Jim to do what he had been aching to do -- get his cock out. Best though to be as naked as the young WPC. He undressed a lot quicker than she had done. Excited both at the prospect of what might happen and just being naked (and erect) with her. Just wonderful to be standing with his cock up in the air in front of her. Grasped in her hand the lady truncheon and rather mimicking it, his penis rising up from him. She reached and held it at the base just like the truncheon and then banged the two together.

"I can't really bop someone over the head with Ian's cock."

"No one else in your bedroom."

"Of course not, Mr Crowfoot! Just the two of us, but what I sometimes do is loop a strip of leather around him and then I can... well..." she began to swing the truncheon around by its strap, just as Jim had seen policemen do in films.

"I think I can find just the thing. Give Jim a little suck whilst I go and search."

So good to see her pretty face looking at his penis in her hand, easing the foreskin further down as she readied herself, perhaps making her mouth a little wetter.

"How many penises have you sucked?" Another question from Jim.

"Only three."

'Only?' Was that a justification? WPC Cartwright trying to suggest it was not many. It would, though, probably be almost twice that number by the time she left the study.

"Would you like to make it four?"

The young women licked. Such a sight. Perhaps it would have been better had she still been in uniform but naked was certainly good! And then she opened her mouth, making a circle with her lips before leaning forward so Jim then felt that lovely first soft encircling touch to his knob.

She had it well in her mouth when Mr Crowfoot returned. The old gentleman stood watching, no doubt relishing that lovely sight of a pretty woman fellating a penis.

The policewoman took the leather thong, a thin strip of leather probably for bootlaces; certainly, that was Jim's thought as to why Mr Crowfoot had such a length of leather to hand. He watched rather amazed that something like that should be happening to him as WPC Cartwright looped the leather through itself -- a slip knot - and then around his erect penis but down beyond his balls, drawing it tight so he was trapped -- leashed -- as she tied the ends together.