The Aphrodite Wendslydale School for Girls Ch. 06

The following day Zachary and Edwin met for lunch, as planned, at a small diner in a nearby town.

"You look worried, Edwin," said Zachary, his face serious as he slid into the booth at the back of the diner.

"Not so much worried," Edwin answered, "as puzzled and concerned."

"Sloan is nothing if not a puzzle," the old teacher said.

"More than you can imagine," said Edwin gravely.

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe is glasses as he gazed at his friend intently.

"At this point," Zachary said as he reached for a menu, "there is little about him that would surprise me."

"I'm about to challenge that, Zachary," Edwin said in a litigious tone.

With that Edwin told his friend about what had happened with Sloan the day before; how the young teacher had taken control of his women, and what Alan had done afterward.

As Edwin spoke Zachary nodded and asked occasional questions, but did not seem to be as astonished as Edwin had expected him to be. His expression stayed even throughout Edwin's narrative.

When the old leader had concluded his story Zachary nodded and said, "Well, that explains a few things and confirms a theory."

"Such as?" Edwin inquired.

"Well," said Zachary, "It explains why my girl, Dorothy has been..." he paused for a moment, "How should I put this?"

He stopped for a moment. His brow furrowed.

Then he continued, "She hasn't been disobedient, as such, but has been less than fully cooperative. She would pout sometimes when given an order.

At first I thought that maybe my power was diminishing. That has been known to happen with some of us of an advanced age. I knew, though, that she had been through the conditioning. She was a graduate of our school. So, even if my power was diminishing, that shouldn't have happened.

I started watching her more closely. That's when things started to fall into place. I realized that she had not started acting like that until after Alan's arrival and that all of her resistance seemed to center around being separated, in one manner or another, from Alan. That's when the theory started to form.

I began to think that our Mr. Sloan may be far more powerful than any of us could possibly have imagined.

Your experience would seem to prove that."

"Why didn't you say something about this before now?" Edwin asked.

"Because, until now, after hearing your story, I wasn't completely certain that I was right," the old teacher answered.

Raising one eyebrow, but smiling, Edwin said, "You are sometimes cautious to a fault, Zachary."

Howard Throckmorton was interested in a young lady he'd had his eye on for quite some time, but simply hadn't gotten around to yet.

She was the cashier at the local coffee shop downtown. Her body was the sort of thing that most men dream of, but never get close to. Her five foot frame sported wide, womanly hips that ended in a nicely rounded ass that was just the right size for her stature. It was big enough to be noticed, but not big enough to distract from the rest of her (unless, of course, you happened to see her walking away from you). Above that was a very trim twenty-two inch waist. Her face was nearly angelic with wide, blue eyes, a cute, little button nose, and a smallish mouth with lips made to be wrapped around a hard cock. Her face was framed by thick, light brown hair that, had she not had it tied back for her job, would have cascaded down over her shoulders alluringly.

It is unlikely, however, that most men noticed these enticing attributes because the main attraction, perhaps one should say the two main attractions, was her chest. Her tits were startlingly huge for someone of her height. Like many retail workers she wore a polo shirt with the name of the business emblazoned across it as part of her work uniform. In her case the letters of the name "The Bean Bar" were wildly distorted by the size and shape of the prodigious bust behind them.

Each morning Howard would go into town to run a few errands and always make the coffee shop his last stop before going home. For several weeks he had been ensuring that she knew his name and was ever so slightly turned on by his presence as he walked up to the counter each morning. One day, while waiting in line to place his order, he decided to probe her mind a bit more deeply than he had before to find out exactly what sort of sexual desires and proclivities she had.

She liked older men. That was a plus given that he was, to all appearances, forty-five and she was nineteen. She liked to give and receive oral sex. Good. But, she didn't like for a man to cum in her mouth let alone swallow. That could be adjusted with minor effort. She liked to dominate during sex. Temporarily that had to go. She liked anal. That was not Howard's cup of tea, but he had to admit that she certainly had the ass for it. He could be flexible and accommodating about some things. She had always had trouble achieving orgasms even with some very capable lovers. That Howard could definitely fix.

He also found out that she got off work at half past three that afternoon, had no classes that day, and no pressing plans for her afternoon off. Perfect.

He tried to be careful about these things. He didn't just randomly demand that a girl go home with him for a good fuck. He didn't want anybody, for example, to lose time from their job, or possibly lose their job outright, on his account. A woman should not find herself suddenly unemployed just because he was horny. Similarly with students, he didn't want to them to miss any classes because of his desires. There seemed to be a decreasing number of decently educated people in the word as it was. He saw no reason that he should add to that problem.

As mentioned, he had been making sure that she was slightly aroused by his presence each morning. For the previous week or so he'd been tweaking that just a wee bit more than usual each day. After all, it's no good if a woman finds herself aroused and about to be fucked by a man of whom she has had no such thoughts before. That always required a good deal of extra effort to calm the woman down (they tended to panic in such situations) and make her enjoy the experience. If he set the stage properly she would come to enjoy it all on her own.

Given her predisposition toward older men he thought it possible that his little plan might be working well. He hadn't boosted her arousal level to the point that she might think it odd or wonder what was happening to her. He had only raised it to the level that she might think of him as someone special or someone about whom she might entertain some small fantasies.

As his turn came and he approached the counter she smiled dazzlingly and said, "Good morning, Mr. Throckmorton."

It was a beautiful smile. She had white, even teeth and thick sensuous lips that should never have been allowed to speak any words except, "Fuck me harder, Mr. Throckmorton," or, "I want to suck your cock." That, of course, would all come in due time.

"Good morning, Daisy," he said, "How are you this morning?"

"Oh," she said as she crossed her arms under her chest mountains, "I'm feeling better than I have in a long time."

Folding her arms like that pressed her breasts together in such a way that the word "bean" disappeared into a deep, cloth-covered cleavage.

"I have no classes today," she continued, "and I'm getting off work early enough in the afternoon to actually go out and enjoy myself for once."

"Well," Howard said feigning surprise, "That's wonderful news. Have you any big plans for your time off?"

"Nothing specific," she said. Then she leaned over the counter, looked the man straight in the eye and said flirtatiously, "But, given half a chance I can think of a lot of fun things to do with that kind of time."

"I've no doubt that you can," he responded in kind.

"Your usual this morning, sir?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, "The usual. A large house blend to go. No room for cream. I'm a creature of habit I'm afraid."

"Not all habits are bad, you know," she said as she swiped the man's credit card through the machine, then she whispered, "and some bad habits are very, very good."

"I've no doubt that you know quite a few," he whispered back.

"I'll bet that you could teach me some that I've never heard of," she said in a breathy and enticing voice.

"I would certainly like to try," the man said with a knowing smile.

Then he slid one of his business cards across the counter. She had enough on the ball to not look at it right then and there. However, she unfastened both the buttons of her company polo shirt and stuffed the business card into the massive canyon between her tits.

She immediately re-buttoned herself and said, "Thank you and have a nice day," as though he was just another customer.

"You too, Daisy," he said with a big grin.

As he walked down to the other end of the counter to pick up his order he took the precaution of causing everyone in the shop, except Daisy and himself, to forget that the conversation had taken place. All they would remember is that a near middle-aged man ordered coffee. It wouldn't do for her to get into any trouble for overtly flirting with a customer on company time or to get a reputation as a slut.

He knew that when she got around to looking at the card she would see that on the back he had hand written his home address and the words, "Six o'clock. Take a cab. I'll pay for the ride out and back."

Oddly enough the day would pass rather quickly despite knowing what was coming that evening. He had much to do around the house.

"So, what do you intend to do?" Zachary asked.

"I'm not entirely certain yet," said Edwin, "obviously we need to get someone to train him in the use of his power so that he can bring it under control. Without it he's potentially quite dangerous. The problem is who could train someone that powerful?"

At that moment the waitress came by to take their order. She stood by the booth, notepad in hand, just below the swell of her large breasts.

"Are you ready to order, guys, or do you need more time?" she asked.

"I'm not ready just yet," said Edwin.

"I could use a bit of time as well," said Zachary.

The buxom waitress asked them if they wanted something to drink in the meantime. Zachary ordered coffee. Edwin ordered tea.

When the waitress had sashayed off to get their drinks Zachary asked, "You have someone in mind?"

"I do," said Edwin tentatively, "but, I'm not certain that it's a good idea."

"Well," said Zachary, leaning forward, "who is on your short list?"

"One name," said the old leader in a near whisper, "It's someone you know. That's one reason that I wanted to talk to you about it. That and the fact that you tend to give very sound advice."

"Thank you," Zachary said, his expression flat except for one raised eyebrow, "and the name is?"

With a heavy sigh Edwin continued, "We need somebody who can think beyond conventional wisdom, past the limits we've set for ourselves, someone who can adapt to new situations yet direct them constructively."

"That goes without saying, Edwin," said the old teacher impatiently.

"That means," said Edwin, "that we need an original thinker which, unfortunately, means a maverick."

Zachary held up his hand to stop his friend.

"You're dancing around the name, Edwin," said the teacher, "From your reticence alone I think I know the name you're trying not to say."

"Do you?" the leader asked.

"Yes," said Zachary firmly, "It's Howard Throckmorton."

Edwin nodded.

The two men sat silently for a moment, each looking at the other intently.

When the appointed time arrived a cab rolled up in front of Howard Throckmorton's house. He went out to greet his young lady, paid the cabby (with a generous tip), and led Daisy into the house.

She was wearing a white, cotton, sleeveless blouse with the top three button undone. The generous amount of cleavage it revealed jiggled enticingly as she walked. Her tan skirt was short, but respectably so. However, it was tight enough to fit her like a second skin. She rounded out the ensemble with a pair of high-heeled shoes. They weren't high enough to be considered "fuck me" shoes, just high enough to give extra grace to the long columns of her thighs. Throckmorton decided that he was going to have to spend quite a bit of time licking and biting those later.

"This is very nice house, Mr. Throckmorton," she said.

"Thank you," the man said, "But, since were not at the coffeehouse you can call me Howard if you wish."

She pressed herself up against the older man and said in a throaty voice, "Thank you. But, calling you Mr. Throckmorton will make me feel so much naughtier."

"And are you here to be naughty?" Howard asked knowing the answer.

"No," she said as she squeezed Howard's hardening cock through his trouser, "I'm here to be a dirty, little slut."

Up to this point he had not yet exercised any control over her. He had been right that her desire for older men was working in his favor.

"That's good to know," he said as he pulled her closer by the firm, round globes of her ass, "I like dirty, little sluts."

"I can tell" she said as she ground herself against his, by that time, rock hard dick.

"Would you like a drink?" the man asked trying to sound more casual than he actually felt.

"I'd love one," she said, "But, you should know that I'm only nineteen. So, it's not legal for me to have alcohol yet. I wouldn't want you to get in any trouble."

"I admire your forthrightness and your concern," he said, "but, I'd be willing to bet that a good many of your girlfriends are right now headed to some fraternity party to swill some sort of cheap, bargain beer and get groped by some inept frat boy. They will stagger back to their dorm rooms, half in the bag, and not quite knowing what happened."

Daisy nodded with a smirk, "You're probably right."

He gestured toward the couch and said, "Please, have a seat."

As she walked away she gave her delectable backside an extra wiggle.

As she sat down he continued, "It's that last part about staggering home that will likely cause whoever gave them the beer to get into trouble."

"True," she agreed.

"You, on the other hand," Howard said, "are in a much more controlled situation. I do not intend to let you drink enough to lose control of yourself and I do not intend to send you home in any condition short of stone, cold sober. So, the possibility of getting me into trouble doesn't actually exist."

"That makes perfect sense," she said with a smile, "thank you for being so thoughtful." Then the young girl added expectantly, "And the groping?"

"Will be mutual and, I suspect, executed with equal skill by either groper," he answered with a wink.

She laughed and crossed her legs causing her skirt to ride up to show a wide expanse of her lovely thighs. Then he caught the thought in her mind. She was ready to suggest skipping the drinks and getting right down to the groping. As she was about the start unbuttoning her blouse the rest of the way he gently pushed the thought back and planted the thought that it might be more interesting to wait.

"Since you have had little experience with this sort of beverage," the man said, continuing on the subject of drinks, "We should probably keep you away from anything heavy. No hard booze."

"Okay," she said.

"But, I see no harm in you having one or two beers while you are here," he said.

"Weren't you just decrying beer a moment ago?" she asked skeptically.

"I was decrying the cheap slime they swill at fraternity parties," the older man answered, "There is such a thing as good beer."

"You mean like from micro-breweries?" she asked.

"Exactly," he said, "There are one or two excellent ones right here in town."

With that Howard went to the kitchen to retrieve one of his better beers from the refrigerator. He could feel her eyes on his butt as he walked away.

The moment he left the room she parted the open portion of her blouse to show even more of her spectacular mountains of female flesh. Howard noted the thought and allowed her to do it. A bit of mutual teasing could make this quite fun. But, he tweaked he arousal levels a little more to keep her distracted and himself in control.

When he returned from the kitchen, beer bottle in hand, he saw that she had parted the upper half of her blouse enough that he could see the edges of her lacy, cream colored bra. The twin spheres of lady flesh bulged temptingly from the cups.

"Before I hand you the beer there are two things that need to be said," he told her.

"Like what?" she asked.

"First," he said as he bent down until we were nose to nose, "That is very sexy."

With that he bent down farther to lick her cavernous cleavage from bottom to top. She shuddered and her nipples throbbed. By the time he stood up again they were making delightful dents in her blouse.

"Thank you," she said, trying to catch her breath, "What's the other thing?"

"Micro-breweries tend to be quite effective and, at times, even artful at their core craft," the man said, "However, they are absolutely wretched idiots when it comes to naming their products. So, don't let the name fool you. The beer is really quite good."

He handed her the bottle.

She read the navy blue printing on the plain, white label and exploded into gales of laughter.

"Deaf Raccoon?" she squeaked with mirth, "They call their beer Deaf Raccoon? That's insane!"

"See what I mean?" Howard said with a grin.

"That's the stupidest name for anything I've ever seen," she said as her laughter abated.

"Isn't it, though," he said, "Now taste it."

She lifted the bottle tentatively to her full lips and took a small sip.

She smiled and said, "That's very good. I see what you mean about swill at the frat houses. Compared to this they're drinking carbonated water."

She took another larger sip.

"Drink that carefully and slowly," the man warned her, "that's the trick to holding your alcohol. Sip. Don't chug."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, "thank you."

"You're welcome," he said.

"With that kind of advice nobody can ever accuse you of trying to get me drunk so that you can take advantage of me," she said coquettishly.

Howard sat down next to her, put his hand on her thigh just below the hem of her skirt, and whispered in her ear, "Oh, there are much better ways to take advantage of you."

She uncrossed her legs and opened her thighs to give me better access as she asked, "Such as?"

"Such as this," he said. Then he kissed her.

She threw her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with a startling level of passion. As their tongues dueled his hand inched its way slowly up her thigh toward her moist honey pot. She moaned into his mouth and grabbed his wrist in an attempt to speed up the process. She opened her legs wider and tried to scoot down to bring her pussy closer to the slowly moving hand. Neither gambit worked.

She broke the kiss and said, "Quit teasing me."

"Eager?" he asked.

"Horny!" she answered, "I didn't come here to talk or drink designer beer." She reached out to try to unbuckle Howard's belt and hissed, "I came here to FUCK!

While one of his hands was almost up to that dripping juncture between her legs he used his other hand to grab her wrist and move it away from his belt.

"Stop teasing" she said, "or I'll...oohhhhh..."

She moaned because his hand had just reached her pussy. The little slut wasn't wearing panties so his finger just slid right in.

Her voluminous bosoms heaved with her breathing. She started trying to hump the finger. That made her jugs jiggle and quiver.

He withdrew his finger and stood up.

"You seem to be in an awfully big hurry to get laid," he said, "Is there somewhere that you need to be later in the evening?"