****** Miss Carter by Candlelight ******
===============================================================================

Miss Carter


Miss Carter was the kind of spinster you look at and you just cannot imagine
what her body might look like. She was the head librarian of the small town
library where I had taken my first job at the age of seventeen. If there is an
official uniform for librarians then I guess Miss Carter wore it. Thick brown
stockings, low heeled sensible shoes, a severely cut two-piece suit, and
underneath a high buttoned satin blouse, usually worn with a gold cross around
the neck.

From the conversations I overheard between her and other older female members
of staff I came to understand that until quite recently Miss Carter had lived
with her mother but the older lady had recently died and she now lived all
alone in a nice detached house in one of the smartest parts of town.

Miss Carter was a virgin. About that there was no possible doubt at all.
Everything about her suggested a complete lack of experience about sexual
matters. For one thing she embarrassed very easily. If one of the younger
assistants made any kind of remark which was even vaguely suggestive Miss
Carter would blush.

All that being said there was something about Miss Carter I found oddly
exciting. To be honest in those days just about every woman I met I found
exciting. Not to be put too fine a point on it I, too, was a virgin. Those were
the times when most guys were virgins until they got married and I was no
exception being not particularly successful with females.

Everything about Miss Carter suggested that nakedness was not a condition she
would be likely to enjoy. She was elderly. At least she seemed elderly to a
teenage boy although looking back I guess she cannot have been much more than
about fifty five.

And yet what made the presence of this woman so much older than me so strangely
disturbing was the very fact that she seemed to be so completely unfuckable.
Miss Carter came enveloped in an air of inhibition and restraint. I could not
help lying there at night in my empty bed and thinking that somewhere buried
deep in that buttoned down exterior there was indeed nakedness. There were
breasts. There were buttocks. There were long pale thighs. A belly, rounded and
warm. A body unseen by man and the way things were going likely to remain so
until the day she died. And thinking like that I would usually bring myself to
a solitary climax and fall asleep dreaming dreams of Miss Carter lying in her
cool and virginal bed.

During the working day I would stand there alongside Miss Carter at the library
counter stamping books, issuing them to borrowers, and I would inhale the
discreet and restrained aroma of some rich fragrance discreetly applied to some
secret place I could only imagine and I would talk to her quietly and
respectfully while all the time wondering about what might lie under that satin
blouse rising and falling so imperceptibly beside me as Miss Carter breathed.

Once or twice in the fever of my desire for contact with some female I would
brush against Miss Carter's body in the narrow and confined area behind the
counter where we worked and I would be faintly aware that despite all the
evidence to the contrary Miss Carter was indeed the possibly unwitting
possessor of a ripe and authentic female body.

And then came the day when Miss Carter made her shy request. Because the
library remained open until nine 'o clock several nights a week we were alone
together, on the evening shift, sitting in the little staff room in the
basement area of the library, sharing the early evening meal break.

"Philip," she said. "Do you mind if I ask you a favour?"

"A favour? Why no. Of course not, Miss Carter."

Miss Carter explained that something had gone wrong with some piece of
electrical equipment at home and she had not the faintest idea how to fix it.
She thought that it was a simple case of a wire coming loose in a plug but she
confessed she had absolutely no mechanical knowledge and hesitated to ask a
workman to call for something so trivial. Would I mind having a look at it for
her one evening?

"Of course not," I said. "Any time."

"What about tomorrow night, then," she said. "I see from the rota that we are
both free. Shall we say about seven? And please, don't mention this to anyone
here. I do feel so foolish about being so..... impractical."

That evening I arrived to find Miss Carter looking almost exactly as she looked
all day long at the library, with just one detail different. There was the same
long skirt covering the same stout brown stockings but because she was now at
home Miss Carter had removed her jacket and the ample curve of her elderly
breasts was even more evident under the shimmering curve of her satin blouse
with the gold cross hanging at the neck.

Miss Carter explained that in fact the switch she had requested me to fix was
connected to a bedside lamp in her room. She showed me the switch and asked if
I thought I could repair it.

"Sure," I said. "I've brought all the tools I need. " And then I added
something which surprised even me. "But it's a bit tricky. It may take a little
while. Why don't you wait downstairs?"

It was indeed a case of a loose connection. It took only a minute or two to
strip out the wire and reconnect it to the live terminal. And then I lay back
on one elbow and allowed my eyes to wander around the room. Miss Carter's
bedroom. Miss Carter was my superior at the library. Our relationship had
always been formal and cool. And here I was, alone in this elderly spinster's
bedroom.

I crept to the door and listened for a moment. Downstairs I could hear the
sound of some classical music coming from the hi-fi. Quickly I crossed to the
dressing table and pulled open a drawer. It was full of neatly folded jumpers.
The one below contained blouses in pastel colours exactly the same as the ones
she always wore. Exactly the same as the one against which her mature and
untouched breasts were straining down there below me.

The next drawer contained what I was looking for. Miss Carter's underwear.
quickly I rummaged through the contents. A treasury of female attire.
Brassieres. Underskirts. Bodices. Stockings. And about a dozen pairs of what I
dare say Miss Carter thought of as knickers.

For a moment I fondled a pair of them, satiny, in palest beige, with an
elasticated waist. Roomy but sexy, in a mature and untouchable sort of way. For
a moment I pressed them to my face, inhaling the faint aroma of ........ what?
I thrust them in my pocket and went downstairs.

Miss Carter was sitting on the couch. "All done," I said. Miss Carter flashed
me her wintry librarian smile but I saw that she was holding a glass of
something or other. Her face was flushed and the topmost pearl button of her
satin blouse was unfastened. And maybe it was my imagination but it seemed to
me her skirt had risen a little higher up her legs.

"Now you must join me in a little toast," she said. Her eyes narrowed sternly.
"You're not driving, are you?" Not driving? I hadn't even passed my driving
test and in any case those were the days when kids like me just didn't own
cars. I assured her that I was on foot and she beckoned me over to the drinks
table in the corner of the room. As we stood there looking down at the array of
booze I felt her fingers tightening on my arm. And then a gentle and almost
absent-minded stroking of the flesh beneath my shirt .

I was not acquainted with drink so I allowed Miss Carter to choose for me.
"You're a fine, strong, young man," she said, " and perfectly able, I'm sure,
to appreciate what my father when he was alive always regarded as the world's
finest brandy." And with that she poured me a slug of amber coloured liquid
that even I could tell was going to be pretty potent.

For a moment or two we sat together on the couch idly talking about the affairs
of the library. All the time I could sort of sense that Miss Carter eyes were
boring into me in a way I had never experienced before. And then it happened.
Flushed, I guess, from the effects of Miss Carter's Dad's brandy I reached in
my jeans pocket for my handkerchief. Wrong pocket. There I was, in public you
might say, clutching Miss Carter's undies.

I wanted to burst into gigantic red flames and die on the spot. "Are those
mine?" Miss Carter inquired. I tried to stammer an apology, something about
needing to clean up the floor after doing the repair and having to improvise
with something from her garment drawer.

"Don't be silly." Her eyes were shining. "It doesn't matter."

"Oh."

"I thought you might be tempted."

"Oh."

"We women always know."

"Oh."

She patted the place on the couch beside her. "Come here. Let me prove I don't
mind." I shuffled along the couch towards her. She took her face in my hands
and kissed me. Miss Carter, our stern and unyielding chief librarian, kissed
me. Right there. On the mouth. Without a word she rose to her feet and turned
all the lights down so that only the glow of the log-effect fire lit the room.
She returned to the couch and sat down.

"Was that nice?"

Emboldened by brandy, I leaned across to her and put my left arm around her
shoulder and this time pulling her into my arms I kissed her. On the mouth.
Just to answer the question. For a moment Miss Carter's lips remained tightly
closed and I thought I had blown it. Then her mouth opened and softened and
engulfed me. Miss Carter sighed and snuggled up towards me. I gazed down.
There, in the mellow light from the flames, just a few inches away from me lay
the gentle rising curve of Miss Carter's satin covered breasts. And my own
gigantic hard-on

"Philip?"

"Yes". I could hardly breathe.

"I want you to promise me something."

"Anything."

Miss Carter's hand rested briefly on my thigh and moved up to within a
millimetre of that throbbing member where it came to a standstill, taunting me.

"Promise me you will never say anything to anyone about this night." Her voice
was strangely soft and vulnerable. "Promise. "

I solemnly promised. At that moment I would have promised to sell my sister
into white slavery. Never before in my short and uneventful life had I been so
close to the forbidden matching glories I now gazed down upon. I don't know
what gave me the courage. Probably the brandy. But my hand reached out and very
softly, very gently, very courteously, I stroked the satin curve and felt under
my hand the wonder of Miss Carter's full and established breasts.

For a moment I froze. This time had I really gone too far? Then Miss Carter
reached up and unfastened a few more buttons at the top of her blouse. Looking
down I saw the apparatus of her bra and, spilling out from under, the pale
gleam of her bulging breasts and the shadowy valley between.

Miss Carter's hand reached out and placed my hand on the top of her bra and
then she seemed to breathe in to make space and gently moved my hand down
inside the bra until I was cupping the breast, soft, and warm, and
unbelievable.

For a moment or two Miss Carter and I concentrated on kissing and fondling. All
the time she was sighing and moaning. And then all of a sudden she broke away.

"I need another drink. You too? " With uncertain steps Miss Carter navigated
her way to the drinks table and returned with two full glasses. "Excuse me one
moment."

She left the room and I sat there in the firelight unable to believe that all
this was happening. I was in Miss Carter's home, sitting on Miss Carter's
couch. Kissing Miss Carter. And fondling Miss Carter's two lovely and
respectable breasts.

I could hear her moving about upstairs and then a few minutes later she joined
me again on the couch. Again that wintry smile, through wet and gleaming lips.
"Here." In her hand she held another pair of her undies. This time in purest
white. "Another pair for your collection." Again her eyes narrowed. "Fresh from
the wearer. See. "

Miss Carter yanked up her skirt a few inches. I could see her sensible brown
stockings were held up by suspenders. I moved a little closer. The brandy was
continuing to do its magical work. I gently pushed her skirt a little higher
and there for the first time in my feverish adolescent existence I was gazing
down at the pale gleam of the upper level of naked female thighs. Miss Carter's
ample thighs. No sign of panties. I reached out and touched her thigh and then
I leaned forward and kissed it as tenderly as I could manage in that state of
terminal excitement.

"Just a minute, " she said, in her practical librarian's voice. "Let me make
things a bit easier for us."

She disappeared behind the couch. I felt her grip the back of the couch as
though balancing herself and then there she was back again, standing before me,
in that beautiful light. Her ripe female body so white and so.... substantial.
Miss Carter, my superior at the library. The woman who had always scared the
shit out of me with that harsh voice and bossy manner, there she was standing
before me. Now the stockings had also gone and she was wearing only a bra and
one of those girdle things with suspenders attached like women used to wear in
those days.

"Oh, God," I heard myself say. "God, you look lovely."

Still sitting on the couch I leaned towards her and pulled her closer. My hands
went around her waist. My face towards the gleaming curve of her belly and I
kissed it. Burying my face in the soft folds of flesh. Miss Carter gasped as
though I had struck her.. I moved my hands behind her and pushing down inside
the girdle thing I cupped her splendid buttocks. Pressing the flesh in. Feeling
it. Exploring it. Finding the crack of her ass. Miss Carter's ass for God's
sake!

"Stand up," she commanded, bossy as ever. I obeyed. Her fingers began to fumble
with the belt of my jeans. The belt parted. With hands which now seemed
tentative and shy she pulled down gently on the zip. I could see that her eyes
were tightly closed. Like a child awaiting the full disclosure of some promised
delight. Miss Carter tapped me on the leg.

"Take them off."

I stepped out of the jeans. Next her hands moved to my shirt. This she removed
for me. Her eyes were still tightly shut. Now her hands were in the waistband
of my shorts. I felt them being pulled down until they gripped my thighs.

"Philip?"

"What?"

"I have never seen a naked man before."

"Oh."

"Can you believe me?

"Yes, of course."

And with that she finally opened her eyes and gazed upon a sight familiar
enough to me but clearly something else so far Miss Carter was concerned. My
member which I might say was not too bad all things considered being quite
thick and uncut and I guess some seven or so inches long was rock hard and
thrusting up in the glow from the fire. Miss Carter gasped in wonder. Her face
moved in close and tenderly almost religiously she kissed it. Her fingers
sought my balls and cupped them and she kissed it again, running her virginal
lips up and down and kind of moaning in wonder and delight, as though it was
some goddamned primitive god or something.

"I want you to wait here for five minutes and then join me upstairs. Is that
OK? Five minutes now. Give me time to....... make things nice. And bring your
drink."

As though on impulse she suddenly knelt down before me and again, in that oddly
shy, bold way, she ran her tongue the full length of my prick, briefly,
longingly. "Come up naked." And then she was gone.



Softly, respectfully , I pushed open the door of Miss Carter's bedroom.
Immediately I could see the explanation for her busy movements upstairs above
me a few minutes before. The room was now alive with the dancing flames of
candles. I tried to count and then gave up. There must have been twenty candles
dotted all around the room. In the midle of the room, Miss Carter lay on her
back on her bed. Her legs together. She had now donned a virginal white night-
dress which reached almost to her feet.

"I wanted this night to be a sacred experience for both of us."

"Sure."

"Stand still," she commanded. "I want to look at you."

I stood there at the foot of Miss Carter's bed. Even though I guess I shouldn't
say it I must have looked OK. My body was hard and strong. Tanned from the
summer sun. And right there at the very centre of me, surrounded by its
attendant black hair, proud and unselfconscious, was that erect and gently
undulating cock. You want to look at me, I thought. But there is still a place
you've got that I haven't got to see. It was as though Miss Carter had read my
mind.

"Philip," she whispered, "please undress me."

In that spinster bedroom, now a chapel of light and silence, I moved across to
the large soft bed where Miss Carter lay. In her eyes there was lust and
something else. Could it be love?

I lay down on the bed beside her and slowly, with infinite patience that was
all the more remarkable when you think about the state of my sex life, I gently
raised the hem of her night gown. Slowly, like a curtain rising on a drama, it
rose. Up past her pale plump legs. Past her bony knees. Up past her thighs. Up
to the place where her thighs began to curve in .

"Close your eyes." Her voice was harsh. "Pull my night-dress a little higher
but close your eyes until I say." I obeyed instantly. We had it seemed, been
joined once more by Miss Carter, the chief librarian.

"All right. Open your eyes."

I gazed down and my cock stiffened even harder. I reached down to my balls to
adjust them and I felt the juice glistening on the end of it. It was the most
wondrous sight I could possibly in my wildest fantasies ever have imagined.
There was Miss Carter, laid out on the bed with her night-dress draped around
her neck. Her legs were wide apart. Even as I looked down they widened still
further. And there at the centre of her whole being , of the whole universe, as
it seemed to me in the fever of my adolescent lust, was the large black
triangle of Miss Carter's very private cunt.

"Are you a virgin?" Her voice was soft and strangely husky.

"Yes."

"Then we shall learn things together."

Miss Carter's movements made it clear what she wanted to do next. She shuffled
her ass down the bed and pushed my head down towards that bush of black hair.
As my face slid down across her pale rounded belly she motioned to me to move
my legs up the bed. Gently, respectfully, careful not to press down too hard, I
laid my young boy's body down on top of hers, my face and mouth pressed deep
into that pungent well of wet desire as my cock slid effortlessly into her wide
mouth.

I guess we were both moaning. It was almost unbearable. One of her hands
pressed my face down deeper inside that enchanted dripping forest and the
other, curious and full of a sort of wonder, caressed my hanging testicles ,
first one and then the other, as her mouth hungrily engulfed my cock as deep as
I could drive it.

Miss Carter tapped me on the shoulder to indicate that the current phase was
concluded. Obediently I rose from her cunt and pressed my lips still tasting of
her down on to her gaping mouth in a kiss of fervent gratitude.

"Now," she whispered hoarsely, "you will take my virginity. But you will at all
times follow my instructions. Do you understand? "

Miss Carter ordered me into position. Kneeling on the bed between her legs
which were bent, her feet flat on the bed, and splayed out, so that her cunt
was an open door.

"Do not do anything until I say. I know you are impatient to penetrate a woman
for the very first time but you must be..... tender. You must remember my
hymen." Her hymen? What the fuck was her hymen? Still, I was used to doing what
Miss Carter told me to do.

So, still following orders, I knelt there between her legs with that cock of
mine straining upwards, almost with a will of its own, knowing that if Miss
Carter finally gave permission it would shortly plunge down and into the tight
haven of wet and fumes which was the chief librarian's untouched cunt.

"Right," she said. "Very gently now, put your cock in the entrance of my......
private place." I'm ashamed to say I was so ignorant of female anatomy I pushed
it at her piss hole. "Lower," she barked. Obediently I lowered my sights and
felt my cock sliding in the first few inches of Miss Carter's cunt.

"Ah," she gasped. "That's it. You're there."

Pretty obvious I would have thought. But you didn't argue with Miss Carter.
"Now, very gently, push a little harder. Ah."

She moaned. This time I could have sworn she was in pain, except that next
moment she kissed me tenderly.

"That's lovely. Beautiful. Just pause for a moment. Now withdraw. Just a
little. Don't worry. I'll be ready in a moment, you darling boy. Just let me
summon up the courage. "

So I paused, kneeling there between Miss Carter's plump, cool, gaping thighs
and wanting only to stick that thing of mine right up there, to see just how
far it would go, so that I could start to pump away and fall right into
paradise.

"All right. Now. Thrust. Hard, Philip. Harder, you silly boy. Sorry. As hard as
you can. Break me in, my darling boy. Give it to me as hard as you can. Oh,
God, how I have waited for this. "

By now I was pounding away, as per instructions. Deeper and deeper inside her.
I could actually hear my cock going in and out. Miss Carter tried to scream and
then pressed her mouth into my chest. Possibly worried about the neighbours.

Her ass reared up. Her cunt lips tightened on me. Her hand ground down on my
ass.

Somewhere, deep inside her, as though I had passed through a door into a wider
room, I felt something give way. A piercing pain as her long nails tore into my
flesh. "Ah...... .ah....... ah. Oh, God....... Oh. God... Shoot in me, Philip.
You can shoot in me, darling boy. Nothing to fear. Shoot your lovely load of
man juices, Philip, darling."

I felt her hands go under the cheeks of her ample ass as Miss Carter lifted
herself up towards me. I was coming.. . I was coming.... I could feel it
starting deep down inside me. Like a rushing train..... Like a torrent..... So
often I had spilled that cum of mine. Into handkerchiefs. Into the bed. Into
the bath. Into my hands , for God's sake. But now it was going where it needed
to go. Where it wanted to be. At last my cum was coming home. Right up there
into the invisible heart of the lovely, forbidden cunt of the most wonderful
librarian in the world.

For minutes afterwards, I could feel my cock deep inside her twitching and
every time it did Miss Carter, still lying under me, sighed and clutched me
closer. At one point I briefly fell asleep and awoke to find her sleeping and
me still inside her. My cock stirred into life. I began working at her again.

This time I went on for minutes on end with Miss Carter squealing and
whimpering beneath me. And then at last , desires temporarily satisfied, we lay
there. A strong, athletic, adolescent boy, lying down and cushioned for the
whole length of him on the wonderful yielding cushion of the ungainly and
shapeless form of the town's chief librarian. Miss Carter. My boss. My demon
lover.

"I couldn't bear it if I had lived and died a virgin," she murmured. "Thank
you, thank you... thank you, you darling boy." And Miss Carter's sweet plump
ass rose in the air to accommodate me one more time. As though she had been
doing it all her life.

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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