Good Neighbors Ch. 05

"Mrs. Black!" Marty gasped. His eyes flew open wide and he flashed a big grin when he saw me. He was such a friendly young man.

Preston said something to Marty, then turned, kissed me and told me goodbye. Things were happening so quickly and my head wasn't following all of it. Apparently, Marty had made arrangements to see Abbie and if my eyes weren't deceiving me, I think I saw that Eddie fella on Liz's doorstep. It was so nice that our new students weren't being shy and didn't mind meeting with us, even if we were still almost strangers.

"May I come in?" Marty asked, "Preston told me you were curious about my 'toolkit.'" He held it up for me to see.

Once inside, my new caller closed the door, took my hand and stepped back slightly to look me over from head to toe. "Why, Mrs. Black! There is something different about you now. You have a glow about you! -- And I can't get over the bold fashion statement you're making in those heels . . . and those stockings!"

"Why, thank you. You are very kind," I told him. He was being awfully courteous, I thought. Looking back on it, he may have been mocking my state of disarray. Just the same, he seemed to be quite taken with my pussy. He gazed at it for the longest time and got this warm smile after a few minutes.

"Is there something wrong, Marty? You seem to be staring at my . . . my pussy awfully hard," I finally said after a long silence.

"Don't you like my pussy?" I asked finally.

"Oh, no," he answered, "I was just marveling at how beautiful your pubic area is. The way the hair is turning gray along the upper fringe is very, very distinctive."

He was right, of course. I hadn't paid the aging process much attention in the past couple of years but my pubes were graying in a most remarkable way. I had never bothered to trim myself down there and though I am rather dark-skinned, I hadn't even had the first gray hair on my head, let alone on my belly until Norman, my most recent husband had gotten sick. The hair on my head remained a deep, rich, full and slightly curly black but the hair on my belly was an entirely different matter. It had begun to turn silver (not gray) along the very upper fringes at first and then the band of silver spread and widened slightly. I hadn't given it much thought until this morning as I shaved my legs. I guess it was 'distinctive,' though I hadn't gone around checking out other old women's crotches to compare.

"I'm pretty good at trimming things up down there," he said. To make his point, he held his toolkit up once more and grinned.

"Shave me?" I asked, a little frightened by the thought of a 19-year-old armed with a razor and intent on laying waste to the hair on my private parts.

"Oh, no! I'm not a barber!" he shot back. He calmed down a bit and went on, "I have a knack for knowing -- imagining exactly how you should look down there. I already know exactly how your belly should look when I'm done."

Even with a foggy brain and my belly coated with layer of slowly drying cum I was suspicious. My skepticism must have shown.

"You can ask Mrs. Nobbing if you need proof!" he offered.

I wasn't about to call and interrupt Liz. I figured she was already eye-to-eye with one of the biggest cocks she was ever likely to see. I didn't think anything should interrupt that little encounter.

"And you say it will be more attractive?" I asked. He was so eager and so sincere standing there holding his toolkit out in front of him like it was filled with gold. I know I wasn't thinking at all clearly after all the sex I'd just had but something told me this young man knew what he was talking about.

"Oh yes! Definitely!" he beamed.

"Well . . . as you can see, I'm a little messy right now."

"That's part of it. I have to clean the area up before I can do anything! I'll do that too," he countered.

"Ok," I said meekly, "What's first?" Looking back, I should have been far more wary, but I still didn't have my head on quite straight after all that mind-boggling, wonderful time spent impaled on Preston's amazing drilling machine.

Marty sprang into action instantly. In no time I found myself in the kitchen lying on the counter, two thick, soft bath towels spread beneath me. My legs dangled over the edge. I watched as my newest student filled a pan with warm water, then hastily tugged a barstool up between my open legs.

"You are so-o-o going to love your new look, Mrs. Black!" he purred as he gazed at my belly from eye level.

I still wasn't convinced, but I didn't have the willpower to protest.

He struggled a bit unfastening the garter strap from the lone stocking I still had attached and fought again to slip the garter belt itself down over my hips. He showed a gentleness and respect for me though in caressing both my legs as he slipped my stockings off. Still, he recoiled a bit when he discovered how cum-drenched my garter belt was. We had a lot of work ahead of us, I thought, if he wanted to become skilled at undressing a woman.

"That," he said, with a grimace before tossing the soiled belt to the floor, "Should be washed as soon as possible."

Marty didn't waste any time. He applied a soapy washcloth to my belly and thighs, careful to work up a good lather before softly drawing the cloth through my tender crease. Once he had me properly lathered up, he applied soap to his own hands and carefully scooped up my labia and set to pinching them softly and occasionally slipping one or two fingers inside me and rolling them in and out of me in the gentlest of ways. It was as if he understood precisely what my pussy needed.

I was already relaxed -- perhaps fucked senseless was a better way to put it -- but Marty's fingers were doing things to me I had never felt before. He was arousing me, certainly; but his touch was reassuring. He seemed to be making love to my pussy more than he was to me.

He also talked as he ministered to my sweet little butter-muffin.

"Mmm . . . This is positively gorgeous . . . Ooh, that ought to clean it . . . and now to rinse it all-l-l out," he hummed. He seemed to be talking to my pussy. Most of what he was saying I could not make out.

When he was satisfied that I was soapy as he could get me, he rinsed the cloth and began to rinse all those suds off. This time he slipped the cloth deep inside me a number of times and carefully turned it before drawing it back out. He seemed to be carefully wringing all those suds out of my pussy.

For the first time in several minutes, Marty looked me straight in my almost-crossed eyes and said, "With your permission, Mrs. Black, I would like to trim and sculpt down there. I'll be very gentle and I'm sure you will like the result."

"Mm-hmh," I mumbled. It was the best I could do under the circumstances. You see, his fingers never seemed to leave my pussy alone now. He was using the same slow motions but he had my clit positively standing on end and my pussy seemed to be seething and rolling and then relaxing once more as he slipped a finger or two inside me and then drew them lightly, but ever so insistently back and forth in my crease. He was giving so much deep and considerate attention to all of me that all I could do was agree. I would have begged for him to go ahead and trim me if he hadn't asked.

I was in a dreamlike state by now. My eyes were only half-open and I was as limp and relaxed as I had ever been in my life. I remember hearing scissors snipping. I felt the warm, damp cloth on my belly again and then I think he applied shaving cream. He lifted, spread and positioned my legs from time to time and I felt the gentle sensation of a razor drawing slowly across my belly. It also went slipping along both sides my opening for a moment or two.

I briefly marveled at how easily Marty was able wield the scissors, the razor and the washcloth and twiddle my pussy all at once but I finally gave up keeping track of his labors. It took too much effort. This entire experience was all so very lovely and I was feeling so free and easy that thinking wasn't in the cards for me. Feeling was. I loved feeling a finger circling my rectum. I loved the sensation of my rigid little clit bobbling and dancing beneath Marty's amazing fingers. I cooed and moaned under the gentle roll and stroke of his hand upon my freshly sheared abdomen.

Slowly it dawned on me that Marty's hands were gliding over my belly, my thighs and my bottom far more easily than before. There was a light, fruity scent in the air now too. I struggled to open my eyes and - believe me, it was a struggle.

"Wha-what are you doing to me?" I mumbled.

"Don't you like this?" he asked.

We were looking directly at each other, eye-to-eye as I gazed down between my tits and upraised legs at my belly. It took some seconds for me to focus. Marty's face was now extraordinarily close to my little humdinger.

"What?" I repeated.

"Well . . . just everything! . . . Would you like to see it -- the results, I mean, Mrs. Black?" my young student asked. He seemed to be awfully proud of himself.

"Ok," I answered meekly. My poor old brain had been through a lot.

Suddenly there was a handheld mirror being pressed into my hand. I suppose that came out of his toolkit too. My hand was hastily guided into position between my open thighs.

"Just look!" he said proudly. He still had a finger in my opening even as he urged me to examine my own pussy.

"Oh, damn!!" I gasped. It was my first reaction but it was honest.

"You like?"

"Marty, I never -- it's -- Oh shit!" I gasped, unable to finish a sentence.

Now, I don't curse very much and for me to say things like this was really out of character. Just the same, seeing Marty's handiwork for the first time sent me into a tailspin. To say it was striking is like saying there's quite a bit of water in the Pacific Ocean. Even if it was my own pussy, I knew it was a show-stopper.

The area of my belly between my legs and just above my opening had been shaved smooth as a baby's bottom. Marty had applied a generous coating of oil there. My cunt lips (sorry for the language, but again, I was being honest) stood out darkly black, glossy and slick with oil too. He had an index and middle finger in my opening spreading my lips slightly. I could see quite of bit of vivid pink inside my pussy there, just beneath the spread of his fingers.

The shocking -- and by far the most thoroughly appealing part of this view of my newly transformed landscape was the fur on my belly. Marty had trimmed away the black pubic hair surrounding my pussy on either side and immediately above my slit and left a slender arch of only my silvery-gray curls! My first thought was that now I was a silver fox! The contrast of that arch of silvery curls against the glistening, deep black flesh of my smooth and gleaming belly truly was breathtaking. Even I thought so.

I gazed at my freshly transformed pussy for a long minute, growing warmer and more thrilled with each passing second. I wanted to show my new look off, let everyone see me as "the silver fox." I liked the nickname "silver fox." I liked thinking of myself as a silver fox.

"Marty, do you think I'm a Silver Fox?" I asked. I was still admiring myself in the mirror. Marty was crouched down between my thighs, peering over the mirror at my new look as well.

"Silver Fox?" he repeated, puzzled by my question. Then he added, "You're so-o-o pink!"

Clearly, we were not seeing eye-to-eye. I had just begun to explain to Marty what I meant when he pushed my hand to one side, spread my sweet little peach with both his hands and buried his face in it.

Marty proved much better and certainly much faster at explaining himself than I.

"Oh!" I gasped.

That was the last clear syllable I uttered for several minutes. I gasped. I grunted. My legs alternately straightened and bent and my hips rolled forward and back as he lapped away at my cunt. Again, sorry for the language, but I hope you'll understand. I really was at his mercy.

Marty had successfully taken this adorable, freshly scrubbed and now strikingly beautiful pussy of mine from a softly humming little source of pride and satisfaction to a sudden and screeching state of chaos. He had, with that one sudden lunge, thrown me into a complete state of orgasm once more. I nearly passed out as he prodded my clit with his nose and licked his way through my sweet little channel time after time. Marty was possessed by a frightfully lusty demon and he was loosing that demon on me. I felt like a devil had been set free inside my pussy and I began to say some really dreadful things.

I was a lost soul. I don't know how long Marty tormented me with his devilish tongue, his demonic nose and his fiendishly talented fingers. I only remember the orgasms had a near crushing force and they reduced me to nothing more than a pitiful, whimpering dishrag of a woman.

"Silver Fox?" I heard Marty say quizzically, "I like it! You certainly are a silver fox!"

My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice but only because I realized with alarm that my poor seething, newly beautified little pussy had been rudely, carelessly abandoned. He wasn't eating me. He wasn't fingering me.

"Oh, Marty! You mustn't stop! You can't stop! Mrs. Black needs your tongue and your nose and your fingers, dear! You can't stop! Not now!" I cried. Tears began to stream down my face.

Marty appeared to be completely oblivious to the critical nature of my needs. He smiled and said, "I think I'm going to call you Silver Fox from now on!"

"You can call me anything you want. You can call me Silver Fucking Fox for all I care as long as you pay attention to my pussy, honey. Please! Please make me feel oh, so good again." I half-begged, half commanded.

"From now on you are the Silver Fox!" he repeated.

With that, Marty grabbed me by the hips, tugged me until my ass was dangling precariously over the edge of the counter. This wasn't at all what I had in mind. Looking down I discovered that Marty was completely naked. I don't know how he had managed to strip down but I admired his dexterity for that. I made a mental note to work on his ability to strip me first from now on. I hung like this, his young stiff cock bobbing like a fishing pole just inches from my splayed legs.

"Time to fuck the Silver Fox!" he shouted.

His ass settled onto the barstool beneath him and he drew my still seething cunt down on top of his cock. We made the lewdest squishing sound as his cock settled into its new home inside me.

As the teacher and the responsible person in this situation, I was doing a horrible job. My lesson with Marty had never really gotten under way and now, here I sat, my pussy trimmed and thoroughly oiled up, both inside and out and dolled up with the loveliest new look imaginable. As an added insult to my teaching abilities, Marty's cock was buried to the hilt inside me and all I wanted was to cum in the worst way. I just knew I was going to make a spectacle of myself -- again. I had no control at all over what was happening.

"Un-ng!" I groaned out as he filled my belly with his cock. That was all I could say.

"Would you like to ride me, Mrs. Black? Or do you want me to throw you down on the carpet over there and fuck you senseless?" he asked. He smiled like he already knew the answer to that one.

That's when I said something I never thought I'd say. "Shit! Stop asking me questions and just fuck me! You can fuck me out front in the driveway if you want to! Just fuck me! Fuck me now!" I had never demanded to be fucked in my life.

My legs were left dangling out behind Marty and they were making useless, thrashing motions like a fish out of water left squirming and flopping on the dock.

Marty twisted to his left on the stool, lifted me in his arms and told me with a devilish lilt in his voice, "I'm going to fuck the shit out of you, Silver Fox!"

"You'd better!" I snapped.

The next thing I knew we were crash-landing on the carpet. Marty landed dick-first on top of me. My legs flew out to my sides and that lovely young cock I had deep inside me plunged even deeper. I groaned out under the new weight and extra inches of meat now digging into my belly. Marty suddenly brought himself up on all fours, draped my knees across his shoulders and began to make long, measured, but sharp thrusts inside me.

I did the only thing I could under the circumstances. I began to cum. I groaned and wheezed out each time he withdrew and left his cock rattling in my opening and then, when he thrust back into me, I would stiffen under his weight. This, I told myself, was even better than having his oh-so talented tongue and nose doing the devil's work inside me.

Marty didn't last very long. Any young stud who can bury his face in my little petunia patch and make me beg for release for as long as he had deserved to cum any ol' time he wanted. Marty slowed his strokes, grew red in the face and then suddenly began to thrust at me in spasms. He had been saving all his goodwill up just for me and he had lots of goodwill to share!

I learned another valuable lesson as Marty erupted inside my newly renovated little shrine to lust. The silver arch of fur on my belly looks even more hypnotic and lovely with a creamy coating of cum spattered across my pussy. The contrast of his sweet white mess against my smooth, jet-black belly and framed from above by the silvery frosted curve of my pubes just about melted my little ol' heart.

"Ungh! . . . Ungh! . . . Ungh!" Marty grunted over and over as he lay frozen inside me and his balls pumped a gradually diminishing barrage of his hot ammunition into me. Finally, he simply collapsed on top of me, his cock slowly withering inside me.

Aside from our heavy breathing, neither of us moved or made a sound for the longest time. I could feel his seed beginning to seep out of me but when he finally recovered enough and pulled himself off of me, it was a like a dam had burst. Huge gobs -- a quart perhaps -- of his seed just gurgled out of me and onto the carpet.

I lay there on the carpet, lifeless and spent, my poor old pussy gurgling and sputtering out the remains of my second student's pure, frenzied lust. I gazed at the ceiling. I gazed up at Marty, who was standing beside me now, his cock spent and still glistening with cum and I began to question my value as a teacher of young men. My lessons, first with Preston and now with Marty had not gone at all according to my plans. In fact, I felt like the two of them had taught me a thing or two.

"Oh, Mrs. Black -- er . . . Silver Fox," he said, correcting himself, "I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. You have given me a . . . wonderful opportunity to -- to make the world a little more beautiful."

Marty drew a deep breath, knelt beside me and traced two soft fingertips through the silvery arc of my freshly trimmed pubic hair. His fingers were ever so gentle as they skimmed across my belly.

"It's a shame no one will ever get to see how . . . how gorgeous you look, you silver fox," he added.

I blinked slowly and smiled back at him. My thoughts were still rather muddled. Maybe it was possible to have your brains fucked out. My thought process had certainly been thoroughly scrambled by the cocks I'd enjoyed this afternoon.

"Well . . .," I answered slowly, still a bit vague about things, "I am proud of my new look. . . What if I wanted to show people I'm a silver fox?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. His fingers never stopped their slow strumming on my belly above my cum-spattered opening.

The idea was coming to me slowly but it was getting clearer in my poor sweet head. "W-w-well . . . If someone -- say Eddie or Preston or even Benjamin Nobbing or Jeff Haffenshaft wanted to know why you call me the Silver Fox, I think the honest thing would be to -- to well . . . show them, don't you?"