Stepdaddy Discipline 05

Leslie was both fascinated with, and excited by Cathy; but considered her to be more daring, perhaps, than Leslie would herself choose to be.

Cathy, like everyone, had been monogamous at first. There were casual hookups with both men and women, but always with one person, and by her early twenties she was not in a relationship with anyone.

She had moved into a high-rise apartment which, aside from the benefit of being cheap but in an undesirable neighbourhood, had the one redeeming factor of a large, well maintained swimming pool. She could look down at it directly from her balcony and occasionally did, sipping a coffee or wine after work. But on the weekends, if not going out with friends, she would slip on her blue bikini, take a small lunchbox with refreshments, and sun herself, read a book, and take an occasional dip.

On one of these occasions she arrived to find two other bathers: two muscular, well groomed black men, probably in their thirties. Cathy settled herself down a little distance from them, and observed them while applying suntan lotion.

The men obviously spent time in the gym: their muscles were clearly defined without being overblown and they seemed to be wearing the tight white bathing suits of body builders. Their respective manhoods were behind cloth, but not out of sight, leaving Cathy bemused at their casual exhibitionism.

Cathy relaxed, closed her eyes and let the warmth of the sun lull her into a gentle slumber.

The sound of voices woke her to see the men obviously talking about a young girl walking past.

"Jail bait," she called out.

The man closest to her laughed. "Nah", he responded. "My brother and I don't go for that. We like mature women, like." He was openly appraising her. She liked the approval written on his face; he was handsome, and there was nobody in her life at that point, and the thought of a black man titillated her. She'd heard the legends about black men, of course, but had never experienced it for herself.

"My name's Carl", he continued. "This is my younger brother Clayton. We call him C for short."

"Good to meet you Carl and Clayton. I'm Cathy."

The alliteration in the sentence was amusing enough that they all laughed together. Cathy stood up to slip into the pool, two sets of eyes watching her every movement as walked elegantly towards the steps, Carl focused on her behind in the tight swimsuit, Clayton watching the sway of her breasts.

It was a silly ritual, but Cathy always paused when entering the pool, at the point where the water reached her womanhood, briefly savouring the sensual lapping of the cold water against her lips, then plunging in. When she emerged the two men were laughing at a shared comment which she suspected concerned her.

Carl uncoiled himself from the deck chair, strode across and dived immediately into the water. He emerged, facing her. "Didn't know we had such beauty in our neighbourhood. We was just saying so."

"You WERE just saying so," she corrected him.

"Yes we was. When did you move in?"

"A month ago."

"You like it here?"

She shrugged. "It's a place to stay. I'll be here as long as I need to."

He nodded, then turned and pulled himself out of the water to sit facing her on the side. Shockingly, the white material had become transparent in the water; he was either unaware, or was staging this for her benefit. His cock, black, thick was lying against his leg, clearly visible, leaving her uncertain where to look. She tried not to, but could not refrain from glancing at it repeatedly as they spoke.

"You like what you see, Cathy?"

She started at this; was he aware of how he was displaying himself?

"What do you mean", she asked.

"C and me, we work out a lot, like. You like muscles?"

She hid her sigh of relief. "To a point", she breathed out. She had to escape this lewd exhibition and the impact it had on her. She lowered herself underwater, turned and swam to the stairs.

She imagined she was too mature to be titillated by exhibitionism, but the image remained in her thoughts. Even flaccid he was large; how big was he when erect? And was Clayton the same? Probably. It would be genetic, surely? And the two men were frequently at the pool - she would look down from her balcony and they would be sunning themselves or swimming, and she would remember Carl leaning back, legs open, a wry knowing smile on his lips, and his visible manhood, inches away.

The brothers seemed to always be together. She would chat with them occasionally in the elevator or corridors, and sometimes there would be one or more women with them but nobody permanent. They worked together at the local gym and shared an apartment, an arrangement which suggested they would have casual relationships at best. Neither she nor Carl acknowledged his casual exhibitionism.

The pool, partly hidden behind trees, was alongside the complex entrance, offering veiled views of the water as one entered. Cathy worked late that evening, returning home, exhausted, at close to midnight. Passing the pool entrance she heard a soft feminine murmur, followed by a low pitched masculine voice. She paused. Nothing for a moment then a tremulous female moan. She couldn't be certain whether these sounds were amorous, or something more sinister; she hesitated, heart beating, until finally she resolved to action. Taking her protective pepper spray out of her clutch, she stepped quietly into the pool area, remaining in the shadows.

She stifled a gasp. A mature brunette woman, probably in her early 50s, bottomless, white unbuttoned blouse, formal spectacles, full bottom, one high heeled shoe cast aside, on her knees before the two brothers, voraciously licking and sucking first one manhood then the other. Carl held her hair in one hand, directing her movements, at one point holding her still so both brothers could freely run their erect members across her face.

For the first time Cathy could see both erect, black cocks in the half light, and her instincts had been correct: large, dark, unwaveringly hard, brutally masculine.

The woman tried to take the men into her mouth, turning her head to follow their movement, suckling when she could, occasionally remaining still while Clayton cruelly slapped her face with his cock, and Carl bent over to slap her bottom. The older brother moved around her, went down onto his knees, casually began examining her, pulling her ass open and pushing her knees apart, rubbing his thumb across her anus, and slipping a finger into her gaping cunt. Cathy's vantage point allowed her to catch glimpses of the woman's chubby pussy as he fingered it. Then he straightened his finger and pressed it slowly into the tight nub of her anus. The woman moaned in response, pulling back from Clayton, until he pulled her mouth back onto his cock.

It was the most visceral sexual scene Cathy had ever witnessed, the woman rotating her hips now as Carl roughly fingered her ass while running his cock head between her vaginal lips, and then forcefully pushed himself into that plump cunt, so that she gasped, clasping Clayton's hips as his brother fucked her.

Cathy was transfixed, captivated by the helplessness of the woman's craving, seemingly willing to do anything for these virile younger, black men. She was making gasping sounds at each stroke now, no longer sucking, focused totally on the cock filling her, Clayton again rubbing his cock against her face, in her hair, dislodging her spectacles which fell silently to the ground. Carl groaned as he orgasmed, pulled out, the whiteness of his seed on her flesh caught in the light then pushed her onto her back, lifting her knees up and apart. Clayton was astride her face now, holding his cock downwards, pushing it between her open lips while Carl, not yet satiated, pushed himself into the woman's bottom until he moaned one last time and withdrew.

"You used it all, bro", laughed Clayton, but he moved around, placed himself between her legs and rhythmically fucked her. The woman wailed in orgasm, eventually so sensitive that she tried to push him away, but he continued for long moments until he too was drained and he pulled out.

The woman slowly sat up, found her glasses and put them on, her hair disheveled, blouse pulled to the side, panting. "You boys are rough", she whispered. "But I so needed that." A husky, cigarette voice. Carl stood up, walked over to the pool and plunged in, his manhood half erect still, as if he could continue.

It was time for Cathy to slip away. Once back in her apartment, she left the light off and went onto the balcony to look down. Carl was nowhere to be seen, but Clayton was lying on his back as the woman gently, alternatively, suckled his nipples and his cock, licking his belly, kissing him occasionally in a post coital sensual reverie.

The brothers shared more activities than Cathy had anticipated, obviously; and given that their conquest was twenty years older than them, perhaps favoured quantity over quality. Or was it whiteness? The thrill of subduing and fucking a maternal authority that they may have experienced. Was there one figure from their past that they imagined? A teacher? A nun? They both certainly enjoyed seeing their blackness against a white, submissive face.

The brazenness still surprised her: as late as it was, anyone could have looked down from a balcony and witnessed it all. The daring somehow enhanced the very masculinity of the brothers.

She was tired. As she drifted into sleep she imagined what the woman must have experienced: two men stripping her, kissing her, examining her, pushing her to her knees and presenting their cocks, an insanely erotic proposition which kept insinuating itself into her thoughts as she slept fitfully and remained there until, in the heat of the shower, she pleasured herself to a blessed release.

Cathy could no longer think of the brothers in the same way. She wondered how many of the casual women she saw them with were playthings for their joint pleasure, noticing for the first time that there were as many older white as younger black women in their company. They clearly had a type: young, black and brassy or older, white, publicly reserved; usually one woman accompanying them at a time. She even wondered, at one point, whether the older women were a source of income, but it seemed unlikely that a paying client would choose a public location to be serviced.

She also noticed the woman in the apartment complex occasionally - or perhaps having seen her in flagrante delicto, Cathy had become more aware of her presence. And then they met.

Late Sunday afternoon, enjoying the last rays of sunshine at the pool, the woman appeared in a black one piece bathing suit, sarong wrapped about her substantial hips, brunette hair tightly wrapped up in a bun: the very image of a mature woman daring to expose herself to the cool water. She sat on the pool chair next to Cathy, who watched her with interest. It was hard to imagine this matronly personage having rough sex with two black men: she seemed more suited to baking biscuits for her grandchildren.

The woman rustled through her handbag; a pack of cigarettes and a lighter appeared, at which she offered one to Cathy who held up a hand in rejection.

"Thank you", she began, "but I don't smoke".

"They say it will kill me", responded the woman. "How do you do? I'm Marie."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Cathy."

"Well I was christened Mary, but who wants a name from a children's rhyme? I changed it when I could. Oh", she paused, "there I go oversharing again. Whenever I'm nervous." She lit the cigarette, but it visibly trembled in her fingers as she lifted it to full lips between slightly plump cheeks and dragged deeply.

"There's no need to be nervous of me. I'm just plain old Cathy."

"I'm actually here to beg a favour from you", opined Marie. So this was not a casual encounter but a staged meeting. "This is so indelicate and embarrassing."

Cathy leaned forward. "Well you can ask me anything."

"Can I? Can I really?"

Cathy nodded and gave a hopefully reassuring smile.

Marie paused, as if unsure how to begin, then eventually blurted it out. "I'm a receptionist at a legal firm. It's not perfect, and at my age there's always the threat that they will replace me with a younger model; but it's what I have and I can't afford to lose it. Do you understand? I would be gone in an instant if they thought there could be any scandal attached to the firm; they're very conservative, you know?"

Marie took another deep drag, while Cathy wondered where this was headed.

"I shouldn't have given in to the boys the other night, certainly not in a public place; but you know, too much wine lowers the inhibitions. And then Carl said you saw us, that he thought you'd been watching." She reached out a hand, wrapping fingers around Cathy's wrist as if to control her. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Without thinking, Cathy responded, "I wouldn't know who to tell, really." She realised too late that she had been caught in the admission.

"So you WERE watching." Marie looked away, shamefacedly. "You know how it is. An older man sleeps with young women and he's considered to be a bit of a rogue. An older woman does it and, well, she's branded a slut, isn't she?"

Cathy tried to ameliorate the woman's fears. "It's not still like that, surely? There's much more latitude these days."

But Marie would not be appeased. "It will never change. It would ruin me if it came out." She turned pleading eyes to Cathy. "You won't tell, will you? You won't tell anyone?"

This was an impossibly unlikely conversation to be holding, but Cathy remembered briefly how Marie had allowed, no WANTED Carl to push his manhood into her bottom as she lasciviously suckled Clayton; this deceptively reserved, conservative matriarch.

"No I won't tell anyone."

"And you haven't done so yet?"

Cathy shook her head. Marie took a final drag, watching Cathy as if to confirm whether this was true, then tossing the still lit cigarette stub into the bushes.

The opportunity to satiate Cathy's curiosity overcame her. "I don't mean to intrude, but how did it all happen? It took me by surprise."

Mature sat back and closed her eyes with a sigh. "Carl and C, you mean"

"Yes."

"They wandered into the legal offices where I work. I recognised them immediately of course: I thought they were the most exciting men in our complex. I couldn't imagine them even noticing me, but Carl somehow had. He knew we live in the same complex and he started flirting with me, right there, at work."

"Flirting?"

"Well, look at me. I have no illusions. Plain Jane in my fifties, no male attention, no prospects. Nights spent alone. I hadn't had sex in years. I even considered making a pass at one of my single girlfriends, but how would that have gone? So his attention, even though he is black, or perhaps especially because he is black made me all giddy again. Like a teenager. And he knew, you see."

"You started dating?"

"Just once, out to dinner. More sexual than romantic - he was all over me from the first, in the car, hands up my skirt, kissing my neck, whispering the dirtiest things in my ear." Marie was in the memory now, almost speaking to herself. "I was overwhelmed to be honest. In the restaurant we sat in a booth where we had some privacy - he ran his hands up my thigh and touched me there, you know, pushing my legs open, through my panties, openly kissing me at the table."

The frank revelations caught Cathy off guard. She imagined Marie succumbing to her desire, craving Carl, craving sex, heart pounding as she was fondled, touched, owned in public; it felt as if she understood that intensity of desire, was once again voyeuristically intruding on Marie's intimacies, but couldn't stop, would need to once again find relief in the shower later.

"By the time we got back home Carl pressed me against the side of the elevator and I felt his... hardness... for the first time. After so many years I had to, had to have it. He took me by the hand and pulled me to his apartment. I could barely wait for him to unlock the door, then when he pulled me inside Clayton was in the lounge. I expected Carl would take me to the bedroom, but I realised later that Clayton had been waiting for us."

Marie found another cigarette, lit it with a slow deep inhale, then rested back again.

"Clayton stood up and came behind me while Carl was still kissing me. I almost had to stand on tip toe for him, you know: they are both big men. Then Carl said that he shared everything with Clayton and I wouldn't mind, would I? I was shocked that first time, honestly shocked; but Clayton was lowering the zipper at the back of my dress and Carl lifted the front of my skirt to look at my panties and..." She paused. "I gave in."

There was a long silence between the two women. The sun was beginning to set; Cathy wondered if the conversation was over, but the older woman continued. "If you haven't been stripped, examined, explored by two men I don't know if you can imagine how sensual, how erotic it can be. No man had wanted me in years; they removed my clothing slowly, touching every part of me, kissing my back, my breasts, my stomach, looking closely at my womanhood, discussing me, even pulling my bottom open to see me there. It was so slow, so gentle, four hands, two tongues, two voices whispering obscene indiscretions... by the time they lowered me to my knees and presented themselves I was trembling. I didn't know what to do at first - honestly, nothing had prepared me for this, for having to please two hard...," she paused as if avoiding the profanity, "... cocks. Carl held me by the hair - he always does that - and controlled me while he and Clayton used me. Used my mouth. You know they have a thing about controlling white women? He made me walk on my knees, holding my hair while he sat on a chair, pulling me between his knees and... well, I'm sure you can imagine the rest."

"You sucked him?"

"I sucked him while Clayton came behind me and penetrated me. My legs were trembling, I remember. And Carl was saying that if I wanted to be with them I would have to let him use my bottom. I mean he didn't use that word, and I had never done that. Where I grew up nice girls didn't do that. But eventually..."

She petered off again. Cathy suddenly felt embarrassed by her intrusion into this older women's secret memory; but Marie had willingly, openly shared this. Perhaps because it was the first time that she could, because Cathy already knew. Had committed to retaining her confidence.

Or was she acting at the behest of the brothers: a crude attempt to entice her into their collective bed? If so, it was not ineffective: the thought of the boys stripping her caused her to shift in the pool chair, aware of the moisture between her thighs. She cleared her throat.

"Thank you for sharing," she began, as if Marie had given her a recipe for a favourite dessert. "I understand better now."

"We all have our weakness. They certainly became mine, even to the extent of having sex in the open with them. I would never have dreamed of it, until they made me. The truth is, as flattered as I was, they only use me for sex. And at this point, that's enough."

"Hmmm." Cathy averted her eyes at this final revelation.

"Be careful they don't become your weakness as well."

"Oh I don't think I'm their type."

Marie looked Cathy up and down, then whispered thoughtfully. "Red hair, green eyes, luminous features, perfect legs from here to next Tuesday, petite bottom. You're every man's type. And trust me, they've noticed."