Winter Mix Ch. 04: Jazz

tagIncest/TabooWinter Mix Ch. 04: Jazz

All Characters In This Story Are 18+ Years Old.
Friday Evening, December 21, 1962
At the Plaza Hotel, after a foreshortened dinner in the Palm Court, Phil Maxon hung his suit jacket in the room's closet and casually asked his eighteen-year-old niece, Patricia, who had uncharacteristically declined dessert, "So, Trixie, did the food disagree with you?"
"Oh, no, Uncle Phil," the teen answered. "I feel fine. But, we have had a long day." She moved to the window and continued, "Plus, the snow hasn't let up. Look how it's piled on the sill. And we're fourteen stories up!"
Phil left the closet and stood beside the girl, who happened also to be his stepdaughter. Draping his left hand over her shoulders, he side-hugged her and said, "That's true, but we're snug as bugs in a rug here."
Patricia smiled at him, then looked apprehensively outside again and said, "Gosh, I hope Mom will be, too."
At that moment, fifty-two miles northeast, in Westport, CT, the storm was as bad, or possibly worse, than it was currently in Manhattan. It had been snowing heavily almost non-stop since about nine that morning. Thirty-seven-year-old Roberta Maxon, Phil's wife and Patricia's mother, had already had her drive and walks shoveled by Barney 'BeeBee' Barnes, her eighteen-year-old neighbor. Now, he sat on the couch in the Maxon family room while Roberta stood at the wet bar with her back to him, mixing his third Cuba Libre cocktail.
To be fair, Barney did not know his previous two Coca-Colas and lime juice had been spiked. Nor did he know that for more than a year his hostess had only made love to her husband once a week on Fridays, was therefore generally sex-starved, and was particularly horny tonight. Neither did he have a clue that she had engineered a pretext to invite him in to be seduced and cure her ailment. He only knew she looked like Maureen O'Hara, that he had loved her from afar for at least three years, and that she was his favorite mental image when he lay on his bed pulling his pud.
Barney folded his Green Mountain plaid flannel shirt and dropped it behind the sofa onto a marble top carved wood console table, then stared at Roberta at the bar. He thought about their very close encounter by the fireplace; about her stuffing a dollar bill into his jeans pocket. Her fingers on his thighs had given him an instant erection. When she touched his nuts and pushed her thumbs against his boner, he had feared he would go off in his pants. He was still amazed he had found the actual courage to kiss her on the mouth.
Barney tried to recapture how it had felt to hold Roberta in his arms, swaying with her in an otherwise static dance, while The Modern Jazz Quartet's new LP played on her stereo; but he could not. Shaking his head in disbelief, he wondered why he could not focus his mind more clearly. His eyes crossed a little as he concentrated on guessing what, if anything, she was wearing beneath her robe. "Gosh, maybe this is all a dream," he thought. "If it is, I don't want to wake up, yet!"
Roberta stirred a jigger of Bacardi light rum into the Coke in Barney's re-filled Old Fashioned glass, added a fresh ice cube, and thought, "That ought to do it. Don't want him to be sloppy!" Exercising her increasing power over the slightly tipsy youth, she called over her shoulder, "BeeBee, it's too quiet in the room. Find another one of those albums on to play. I'll be there in a jiffy!"
Roberta's raised voice, underscoring her reality, disturbed Barney's reverie. He leaned forward to the coffee table and grabbed the next record from below the empty 'Lonely Woman' jacket. Rising from the sofa, he pushed the LP onto the spindle, then watched it drop to the turntable. While the needle moved to the first track, he read the label and said to himself with a shrug, " 'Brazil Blues'… guess that'll do…"
Smiling at the opening notes to Herbie Mann's 'Brazil', Roberta carried cocktails to the couch. Stooping slightly, she handed Barney his lowball and apologized, "I ran out of lime juice. I must've put too much in your other Cokes. Sorry!"
Barney enjoyed a close-up bird's-eye view to Roberta's décolletage at her robe's undone top two braided gold cloth frog closures. He swiftly took his new drink from her and sipped at it as he peeped, hopefully undetected, over its rim at the hinted mountain pass. "Um, that's okay, Mrs. M.," he graciously allowed. "I think I can still taste some from before." Furrowing his brow, he slugged back a larger swallow and added, "Leastways, it doesn't seem too much different."
Roberta, watching closely, was confident her naïve guest was ready for her next steps. Setting her untouched Rob Roy on the console table, she sat on the couch's middle cushion, with her angled knees bumping his, then edged closer and turned in a quarter to him. Sliding her right hand over his Levi's, along his well-developed left quadriceps, she praised, "Good! I'm glad for that. Also, I see you took off that heavy old flannel shirt like I suggested." When her hand was barely and inch from his packed groin, she raised it to his sternum and rubbed his hardpan pecs through his white T-shirt as she continued, "Are you feeling a little cooler, now? More comfortable?"
Barney blinked and inhaled a deep breath through his nose. Pressure built in his chest under Roberta's light warm hand. His penis twitched in his briefs and a strange heat flashed up his spine from his collarbones to his nape. "Y-yes, Mrs. M.," he answered, hesitantly. "I was, er, I mean I am. Thank you."
"You're welcome, BeeBee," Roberta responded automatically. She pushed her hand further, harder, and slower over his muscles as she observed, "You know, you're not only a big strong man who can fix a neighbor's damper. You're also very polite. And sweet for that." She chuckled softly and said, "I must compliment your mother for bringing you up well."
Barney panicked in his head, "Oh, my gosh! Don't say anything to Mom about this!" Out loud, he ventured, "You don't have to say anything to Mom, Mrs. M. Other people have told her that, so she already knows."
Roberta patted Barney's chest and retreated, saying, "Mothers never tire of hearing things like that, but if you don't want me to mention it, I won't. I wouldn't want to embarrass my big strong neighbor. He might not want to come help me again!" Suddenly noticing the record had moved on to 'Copacabana', she rose from the couch and demanded coquettishly, "Dance with me! I love this song!"
Barney downed the last two ounces of carbonated booze, put the short tumbler next to Roberta's drink, and then stood. Abruptly dizzy and momentarily confused, he wobbled unsteadily, then straightened as the rum's effect passed. Shifting his eyes uncertainly from left to right, he looked at Roberta and said, "I don't know… Is this alright? You know, what will Mr. M. think?"
Roberta took the teen's right hand and led him around the sofa to a clear area near the carpeted room's pool table. Reeling him in to her body, she whispered into his neck, "Why would he think anything? I'm certainly not going to tell him. Are you?" Her slight Scotch breath, mixed with her dangerous Chanel No. 5 perfume, virtually anesthetized Barney's brain to rational thought. He closed his arms around her quilted floor-length red-and-gold Chinese floral print robe and boldly returned her strengthening hug.
Roberta shut her eyes, softly hummed along with Herbie Mann, and pivoted on her red suede high-heeled bedroom slippers. Barney pirouetted with her like a music-box figurine. He moved his hands over her back, from her shoulders to her full round bottom. He only sought desperately to find a purchase which might stop him from whirling into the spinning clouds in his mind, but she complimented him for doing something else entirely.
"Mmm, that's nice, BeeBee," Roberta buzzed in his ear. "Such a deft touch. Where did you learn how to give a backrub like that?" Tugging his T-shirt loose from his jeans, she ran her hands up inside, dragging her nail edges over his vertebrae. Electrified, he dug his fingers, like fishhooks, into her ass and mid-back while she clutched him impossibly close.
Six minutes later, as the brighter flute tone began in the cut, 'My Longing', Roberta separated from their embrace, traced her hands along Barney's unbelted waist and popped open his Levi's brass button fly-tab. Tipping back her head, she transfixed him with an unbreakable commanding gaze. Slowly, she unzipped the blue jeans with her left hand while simultaneously goosing his balls through the denim with her right. "I really like flutes," she purred. "Shall I show you how much I like flutes, BeeBee?"
In shock, Barney protested weakly, "M-Mrs. M.!"
"I didn't hear you say 'no', BeeBee," Roberta pointed out as she freed his turgid prick from his Jockey shorts and gently squeezed her hand, like an elongated cock ring, around its shaft. Dropping to her knees, while inverting his jeans to his stockinged feet, she asked, "And didn't we discuss how you promised to be good? How 'being good' means minding me?"
Roberta slid her gripping fist an inch to Barney's boner's base, then back up until her thumb capped the weeping slit on its velvet-soft nose. "I'm sure we did," she continued, rhetorically. "Now, stand there and behave."
"B-b-but…" Barney's stammered effort to argue quickly transformed into a low guttural moan as Roberta slipped her hand down his rod once more. Cupping his wrinkled ballbag in her other palm, she pursed her lips around his helmet's rim and drew on the stalk like a straw while pumping vertically with steadily increasing speed and pressure. His nuts huddled in her rhythmically pulsing hand. Groaning incessantly with full baritone octaves, he clamped his hands on her shoulder tops and helplessly erupted into her mouth just at the next song began to play.
Pulling her head back, Roberta smiled at Barney's drooling tool, licked it clean, then stood up and kissed him warmly. Alternating little pats on his naked butt cheeks, she commended him, "Yes, BeeBee, that was very good. Thank you. Now, let's go back to the couch and listen to the rest of this album."
Numbly, Barney stooped to pull up his jeans and briefs, but Roberta put her hand on his broad back then ordered him, casually but with effect, "No. Just step out of those old clothes and leave them there. You won't need them for a while." After he had obeyed, she hooked her left index finger in his T-shirt collar and led him away.
Seated again, as before on the sofa, Roberta picked up her going-stale, no-longer-chilled, cocktail to rinse down any left-behind cum. As she raised the coupe glass to her formerly glossed lips, Barney asked deferentially, "Mrs. M., may I at least put my shirt back on? I'm kind of cold."
Roberta smiled over her drink as she swallowed. Regarding her pet's dishabille, she noted his softened cock had fully retracted and scrunched itself against his tapped out testicles. Holding out her glass, she pleasantly suggested, "Before you do that, try this. It's not at all like your Coke, so don't guzzle. Just sip and swallow. See if it doesn't warm you up."
Barney looked doubtfully at the rosy-brown concoction, but closed his right hand around the stemware as directed while he asked, "This is booze, isn't it? I'm not twenty-one. Is it okay?"
Roberta half-frowned and replied dismissively, "What? You said you were cold. This is just medicine for that. Of course, it's okay. Just remember not to take it all at once." Reaching out she squeezed her right hand above the knee on his bare left leg and added, "if that doesn't do it, I have other time-tested remedies. Don't you worry."
"Alright, here goes," Barney said, bravely. The room-temperature Scotch-bitters mixture slapped his palate, then washed down his throat and pooled in his gut like ignited lighter fluid. He made a face and coughed, then took a second sip, which seemed smoother and layered itself warmly on everything it touched. Grinning, he stuck out the glass and acknowledged, "Wow. You were right, Mrs. M."
Refusing to take back the cocktail glass, Roberta said, "No, you go ahead. Finish it. But slow! Since you fixed the damper, I'm going to light a fire. I'm sure you'll be toasty soon enough." When she returned to the sofa, birch logs crackled on the andiron in the hearth and only the maraschino cherry's stem remained in the empty coupe. Standing behind Barney, she ran her knuckles over his close-cropped blonde head.
Barney was not only not cold now, he was decidedly hot. His scalp crawled electrically under Roberta's dexterous digits. He was glad she had insisted he leave his clothes off and wondered would be impolite to remove his T-shirt, too. Mulling the notion, he said to himself, "You'd still have your socks on, so it wouldn't be like you were completely naked."
Roberta saw reflected in the large rectangular mirror over the home entertainment center, a funny look on Barney's face. Sliding her hands to his ears, she toyed her long nails along the shells' burning rims and teased, "Penny for your thoughts?" More than surprised when he mumbled aloud the last word in his silent self-talk, she repeated, with an innocent lilt, " 'Naked'? Why, yes I suppose I could join you."
Roberta stepped around the couch, stood squarely before the startled youth and released the third gold frog on her robe. Sensuously rolling her shoulders to the deliberate tempo of the jazz band's 'One Note Samba', she loosened her braided sash, then moved on to the fourth, fifth and sixth cloth fasteners. With them all undone, she clutched the stitched plackets, spread her arms wide and answered Barney's unvoiced questions.
Roberta's sheer pastel pink chiffon negligee covered, but did not hide, her shapely 37-26-37 body. Big ruffles flowed in a deep vee to a wide pie-cherry-red satin sash. Between the gown's empire waist and wide shoulder straps, her full breasts' large russet areolae stared straight into Barney's dilated hazel eyes. The bias cut flimsy hugged her broad hips before sheeting to her exposed delicate ankles.
The man-boy gulped at the magical butterfly-like vision. Roberta lowered her arms, shelved her shrouded tits on her palms, then shook them up and down, while she asked coyly, "Disappointed, BeeBee?" Advancing a half-step, she tweaked and released her thick button nipples. They instantly rose from their platforms to poke impudently against their chiffon veil.
Barney's throat tightened painfully. Unconsciously, he kissed air repeatedly, like a landed trout. Letting go her juggled jugs, Roberta hiked her negligee's hem high above her hip points and parked her shins on the sofa. Astride her frozen prey's bare thighs, she dropped her gown to drape his legs and then sat back on his knees.
"I saw you ogling me in the kitchen this morning," Roberta said, matter-of-factly. "So, now tell me true: Do you like what you see up close?" Gently grasping his wrists, she raised them up and laid his hands against her covered chest as she directed, "Go on, BeeBee. Feel them. Look at them. Kiss them."
Roberta's command flipped a switch in Barney's head, shutting down the last few inhibitions that the rum, scotch, music and perfume had failed to obliterate. Thus animated, he obediently closed his fingers and tentatively palped her firm globes. She moaned appreciatively as thermal tendrils began threading their way along her neural paths. Encouraged, he hooked his thumbs in her ruffled vee and parted her pink curtains.
Barney took a deep breath through his nose as he gazed on Roberta's pale rosy dappled mounds. Stroking his thumbs back across their naked smoothness, he depressed their erect indented nipples and pushed his hands' heels upward. The boobs' weight and mass somehow surprised him. Instinctively, he squeezed in his fingers and gently worried the dense flesh.
Feeling her inner heat intensify, Roberta soughed, "Yes." Impatiently, she reached behind her golem's head and pulled him to her. As his nose brushed her left breast, he closed his lips around its entire halo and drew her as deep into his mouth as he could. Naturally latched, he suckled; first like an infant, but then like an aroused man.
"Ohh, yes… just like that, BeeBee," Roberta cooed. "Be my bay-bee! OH! Baby!" Rocking her bottom's cheeks on his muscular quads, she scooted her crotch close to his gut. His formerly shrunken cock no longer hid. Standing tall, trapped between his sandy pubes and her scarlet see-through nylon bikini briefs, it cleaved through her buttery camel-toe like the proverbial hot knife.
As she writhed on his lap, Barney lost his purchase on Roberta's slobbered breast. Swiftly recovering, he fiercely engaged the fat red-brown hill top he had squeezed up in his left hand. Rising on her knees while yowling her desperation, she simultaneously clawed aside her panties' gusset and smashed her right tit into his foraging face. His hands slid through her arms and vised her torqueing shoulder blades.
Roberta pushed her free hand to Barney's stout erection. As he felt her grip slip, then tighten, on his throbbing hard-on, he paused his voracious feeding. Keeping him aligned, while stretching her panties crotch away from her wet needy cunt, she dropped to his lap and took him all the way in. He groaned when her Kegels contracted on his cock.
Barney was excited beyond all his dreams. His mind reeled. Roberta grinned into his saucered hazel eyes and said softly, "You just sit tight, Baby, I know what to do."
Sitting tight was not easy. Barney felt a previously unknown welling animal urgency. His nuts ached and his chest hurt in a wonderful way that he did not want to stop. He kneaded his fingers reflexively through Roberta's negligee.
Roberta studied Barney while she slowly ground her hips and butt on his lap. His hardness filled her completely; her walls pulsed and hugged it. Reading the thrilling tension in her young lover's face, she knew he neither wanted, nor would be able, to last much longer. With her own orgasm still a mile off, she smiled when his pelvis involuntarily jerked repeatedly from the couch while his induced ejaculation plastered her womb's far wall.
Happily relieved, but oddly regretful, Barney relaxed into the sofa's velveteen upholstery and exhaled a long breath. He did not know why, but he felt compelled to apologize. "I'm s-sorry, Mrs. M.," he said, shamefaced. "I don't know what happened, but I promise, it will never happen again!"
Roberta immediately retorted, "Nonsense! You know perfectly well what happened and it certainly will happen again, I assure you. Now, take off that T-shirt and give it to me."
Startled by Roberta's suddenly stern tone, but in no position to argue, Barney pulled his undershirt over his head and handed it to her. "Thank you," she said more sweetly. As she balled up the white cotton, she continued, "I don't want to make a big mess here on the couch. Cum would be very difficult to clean from this fabric." Laughing lightly, she rolled away to her right, onto the center cushion, shoved the wadded material under her gown and sopped up the creampie leaking onto her legs.
Roberta smoothed her thin panties back over her still engorged vulva, then handed Barney back his soiled T-shirt and said, "Here, hold this for a minute." Rising from the couch, she lifted the scratching needle arm from the played-out jazz record, switched off the stereo and walked to the extension phone by the wet bar. As she went, she said blithely, "Now, shush while I call your mother."
Barney thought he had been punched in the stomach. "What? Wait a minute! I thought you weren't going to tell her anything…" His voice trailed off in despair while he watched his protest being ignored.
Unconcerned, Roberta lifted the receiver and dialed, even as she answered him, "Don't be silly, BeeBee. You've been over here quite a while. I've got to tell her something." Then, speaking into the phone, she said, "Judith? It's Bobbie… Yes, I know it's late… No, nothing's the matter, but I wanted to apologize for keeping Barney longer than expected… What?… Yes, he is a big boy, but I thought with the storm and all, you might be worried. I wanted you to know everything is okay…"

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