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Fall to Temptation |
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By Dirk Vincento
CHAPTER THREE
So far, Bruce McKenzie had lived The American Dream. A beautiful baby, born into a well-to-do, middle class family, he was raised in a good neighborhood and naturally accepted all of the finer things that life had to offer. As a child, he was constantly being showered with compliments from doting women who loved to gush over his curly, dark hair and big, brown eyes. By the age of six, his good looks had landed him jobs modeling for magazines and department store catalogues and even a couple of television commercials, pedaling the newest breakfast cereal. His father was a university professor who put great value on the importance of an education and insisted that academics never take a back seat to athletics or social activities. As a result, in high school Bruce was not only quarterback on the football team and president of the student council, but also managed to graduate each year near the top of his class. With his good looks, athletic ability and high academic standing, he quickly became the most popular boy in school. The guys all wanted to be his friend and the girls tried desperately to catch his eye, in hopes of becoming the object of his affection. And for Bruce, making the transition from accepting the compliments of grown women as a child to receiving the attention of teenage girls in high school came naturally and easily. To him they were all women, and over the years he had come to take it for granted that they should be attracted to him. While other boys his age were struggling with their first attempts at dating and dealing with the opposite sex, Bruce found the game surprisingly easy to play. He had a date for every Saturday night and rarely took out the same girl twice in a row. By his senior year, when having a steady girlfriend was considered the thing to do, he invariably found himself dating the prettiest girl in school. Being doted on since childhood had made the need for acceptance and approval one of the driving forces in Bruce’s life. Because of it, he had allowed his taste in women to be shaped largely by popular social standards. Always needing to be the envy of every other boy in school, the girls he dated were invariably the classic cheerleader type; blonde, blue-eyed and pretty, with long legs, a shapely behind and small, perky breasts. They were the kind of clean, wholesome looking girls that any boy would be proud to take home and introduce to his mother. Unlike most young men his age, he seemed to have his raging, adolescent hormones as much under control as every other facet of his life. There was one experience that threatened to stir the coals and gave Bruce a small glimpse of the more personal, sexual urges that lurked deep within him. When one of his regular teachers was absent due to illness, she was replaced by a quiet woman about forty-five years old and mildly attractive. Her hair, which was pulled back from her face unassumingly, was that mousy color, not light enough to be blonde and yet not dark enough to be fully brunette. Her height and overall build were quite average and she would have been the kind of person who easily blends into a crowd, had it not been for her two outstanding features. Rising up majestically under her blouse was an incredibly enormous bosom that appeared totally out of proportion with the rest of her body. Every time she moved, her breasts swayed back and forth like two huge, water-filled balloons. While the girls in the class giggled and the rest of the boys whispered crude remarks, Bruce sat frozen in his seat, completely mesmerized by the sight of the teacher’s mountainous mammaries. The effect that they had on him was quite involuntary and took him totally by surprise. He was transfixed, and try as he might, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the vision of her ample chest. He started to suspect that the other students were looking at him and laughing as they watched him helplessly ogling the incredible bosom on display at the front of the class. But he didn’t care. No amount of ridicule or embarrassment could begin to compare with the erotic flush of pleasure that staring at those unbelievable breasts made him feel. As the class came to an end, he found himself with the problem of having to get up from his seat without exposing the large bulge that had formed in his pants as a symbol of the profound impression the teacher’s enormous breasts had made on him. Using his textbooks to conceal the evidence, he made his way to the boys’ washroom, where he hid out in a cubicle until his erection had subsided. That night, as Bruce lay in bed trying to sleep, he was haunted by the image of the teacher’s huge breasts. He could feel the urge to reach under the covers, almost as if the teacher and her massive bosom were coaxing him on, daring him to bask in the pleasure they promised to give. But he fought off his salacious desires valiantly, determined not to give in to what he considered a degrading act. While most teenage boys indulged in masturbation in private and then claimed in public that they never did, Bruce actually believed the myth that guys who could get girls had no need to masturbate and tried as best he could to resist the temptation to touch himself. But tonight, the vision of those huge mammaries flowing gently under the thin white material of his teacher’s blouse and the tingling sensation that looking at them gave him, were more than he could take. He reached down under the sheets and found that his fantasy had already produced the same result as the sight of the real thing had done earlier that day in class. Unable to resist the feeling of erotic pleasure that was engulfing him, he took hold of his erection and began moving his hand in long, slow strokes. In his mind, Bruce could see himself sitting at his desk, the only student in the class. The teacher was standing beside her desk, looking at him silently with a sultry, seductive smile. He could feel himself start to quiver as her enormous breasts began to work their magic on him, captivating him and luring him in helplessly. Her hands rose to her chest and began undoing the buttons of her blouse. Goosebumps stood out on his flesh as the seductive sensuality of the gesture overwhelmed him. There was something about the way she moved . . . so slowly . . . so suggestively . . . so teasingly, that was driving him wild. He could see her pulling her shirt open little by little, gradually exposing her magnificent globes. They were encased in a sexy white bra that seemed to be made of acres of lacy material. The soft, creamy flesh that spilled over the top of her bra jiggled provocatively as she began to walk toward him. His hand moved faster on his cock as she came closer, her breasts growing bigger and more awe inspiring with each step. She stopped before him, slowly reached into the deep valley of her cleavage and hesitated before unsnapping her bra. He could feel himself coming close to a climax, his body filling with anticipation as his mind’s eye prepared to show him the unveiling of her incredible orbs. Then she slowly pulled her bra open from the front and let her giant tits spill out. Now free and fully displayed, they rose up proudly from her chest and reached down over her stomach almost to her navel. Her aereole were large and dark brown and her nipples stood up hard and erect. Drawing in her elbows, she squeezed her giant mounds of flesh together, making the long line of cleavage between them grow unbelievably long and irresistible. As the image filled Bruce’s mind, the muscles in his legs and stomach tensed and his cock prepared to explode. In his fantasy, the teacher came closer until the peaks of her mountains were only inches away and the dark valley of her cleavage lay open before him like the Great Divide. He stroked himself faster as she placed her hands on the back of his head and pulled him into her bosom. Imagining the feel of her soft flesh against his face forced him over the edge and hot cum spurted out of him, spilling onto his hand and the sheets. His body convulsed furiously, wracked by waves of unbearable pleasure, as his hand gradually slowed until he had squeezed himself dry. For a long time after, Bruce lay still in the dark, breathing heavily while he tried to recuperate from an experience that had reached deeper into his hidden longings and desires than he had ever dared to go before. He was exhausted and numb, as if he had been on a long journey that had tested him to the limit. His mind was humming and an erotic electricity danced across his skin, like a fading memory of the sensations that had overwhelmed him only a few moments ago. When sleep came, it took him by force and held him firmly in its arms until morning. By the next day, Bruce’s regular teacher had returned to the classroom and his life had returned to normal. Instinctively he sensed that the raw sexual feelings that the teacher with the large breasts had brought out in him were dangerous and had the potential to disrupt what had been, until now, the wholesome perfection of his life. The experience in the classroom and the fantasies of the night before were stored away deep in his subconscious, carefully kept under lock and key. Bruce returned to the blonde, blue-eyed cheerleaders, and as the years passed by the experience was, if not gone, for the most part eventually forgotten. After high school, two years of college were followed by a series of jobs in sales, much to the disappointment of his father, who would have preferred that Bruce pursue an academic career. But the lure of quick money and getting out on his own was too great. Bruce enjoyed working in a profession that both supported his lifestyle and generally gave him the freedom to come and go as he pleased. He had developed a taste for expensive clothes and they combined well with his good looks to keep a long list of beautiful women constantly at his fingertips. He often slipped out of the office under the guise of an important sales call to indulge in a midday tryst. And like his clothes, the women he dated gave him the most pleasure when he sensed the envy and admiration they stirred in the people around him. Even during sex, his mind often drifted away from the awareness of the body that lay beneath him and conjured up thoughts of all the men who would give anything to be in his place at that moment. For the last two years, he had been employed as an independent contractor selling advertising space in trade publications, a position which allowed him to set up an office in the spare bedroom of his apartment and work out of his home. He started each day by showering, shaving and dressing in his suit, a ritual that helped him maintain the self-discipline needed to work successfully without supervision. From nine to five, five days a week, he could be found faithfully making sales calls on the phone, unless of course, he happened to step out for one of his afternoon business meetings. But today he sat in his office staring idly out of the window, his mind a million miles away from the work that lay on his desk awaiting him. His thoughts kept drifting back to the night before at The Fox and Hounds. Suzanne’s doubts about his ability to settle down and remain faithful to one woman kept swirling around in his mind. Last night he was so excited about proposing that all he had thought about was what he was getting into, never considering what he was leaving behind. He knew that he loved Suzanne and was so excited about getting married that only after she had voiced her concerns did he start to question his own ability to be happy with one woman for the rest of his life. He sat at his desk trying to convince himself that these were doubts every man experienced at a time like this. Surely it was natural to be a little nervous about giving up something that had always been such a big part of his life. In his mind, he ran through the same speech that he had given Suzanne, explaining that by having sown his wild oats so thoroughly he had fulfilled that need and would be less likely to roam than a man who had never played the field. But while his rationalization seemed to appease Suzanne, the words sounded empty and contrived to him now. Somewhere in his heart he knew that having been with as many women as he had only made him that much more aware of how irresistibly enticing the pleasures of variety could be. And somewhere deeper in his subconscious, he knew that the variety of women he had slept with fulfilled his need for conquest more than his sexual appetite. He needed to know that there were large numbers of women who would have sex with him. And even more, he needed to feel that everyone watching him knew it as well. But those feelings were buried deep in his subconscious, far beyond his reach. A flock of Canada geese flew across the sky, their distinctive V formation standing out against the clouds as they headed south. Bruce watched them through the window and thought about the instincts that guided their course, much as his own instincts had guided him through his life. He had always made the right choices easily and naturally and he was sure that he was making the right choice now. He had no doubt that his feelings of uncertainty would pass and everything would work out fine. The geese faded into the distance, eventually disappearing from sight, and Bruce felt for a moment as if they had taken all his problems with them. Feeling better, he took a deep breath and turned back to his work.
CHAPTER FOUR
Suzanne picked up a glass and wiped it dry and then placed it carefully on the shelf in the cupboard. Her mother rinsed another plate and placed it in the rack. They had been standing in this very spot doing the dishes together many times before, but somehow tonight felt different. Now that she was engaged, Suzanne sensed that there was a new bond between them. She had always felt a strong connection with her mother, but now they were a mother and daughter with a shared experience and in some intangible way, she felt that it brought them even closer together. “I’ll probably be late, so don’t wait up,” Rachael called out from the front hall. “Okay. Drive safely,” Mrs. Bonaccord hollered back. “See ya, Rache,” Suzanne added in. The only answer they received was the sound of the front door slamming shut as Rachael headed out into the night. “How’s Rachael doing?” Suzanne asked as she picked up a handful of cutlery from the dish rack. “Oh, you know Rachael. She’s a going concern,” Mrs. Bonaccord answered with a chuckle. After a slight pause, she continued more thoughtfully. “I worry about her though,” she said, the tone of resignation in her voice exposing her sense of helplessness. “I was really happy for her when her divorce settlement came through. It seemed like a lot of money and I was glad that she wouldn’t have to worry about supporting herself for a while. But to be honest, I expected her to find her own apartment. When she asked to move back in here, I thought it was just going to be a temporary thing.” “Is it a problem?” “Oh no. I actually enjoy her company . . . when she’s around, that is. That’s what’s worrying me. She’s going out to the clubs just about every night. She usually stays out late and sometimes she doesn’t come home at all.” “Well, Mother,” Suzanne said. “She’s a grown woman.” “I know,” Mrs. Bonaccord said apologetically, “but that doesn’t make it any easier. When she’s living here, it’s hard not to notice what she’s doing and wonder who she’s with. You know, you two will always be my babies, no matter how old you get.” They smiled at each other and Suzanne felt a wave of protective warmth flow through her body. “Have you talked to her about how you feel?” Suzanne asked. “I’ve tried,” Mrs. Bonaccord sighed. “But you know Rachael. When you talk to her, she has a way of making you feel like things are going to be better, but then nothing really changes. “She’s always been a first rate con,” Suzanne said smiling. “I’m just afraid that getting all that money has stolen her ambition. She’s talked about taking some courses, but nothing ever comes of it. As long as she doesn’t need to, she can’t seem to find the drive to follow through. I’d just like to see her get involved in something because I don’t want her to turn out like . . . ” The words trailed off as tears of emotion welled up in her eyes. “Speaking of Rachael,” Suzanne spoke up in an attempt to change the subject, “I was talking to her this morning and I did something I’m feeling kind of bad about.” “What’s that, dear?” Mrs. Bonaccord asked, wiping away a tear from her eye with soapy hands. “You know Bruce is a very attractive man,” Suzanne began, “and over the years he’s had a lot of girlfriends.” “Yes?” Mrs. Bonaccord said, trying to figure out where Suzanne was leading. “Well, when he proposed to me last night, I got scared. I started thinking about all those other women, the women in his past and even the ones he hasn’t met yet. I couldn’t help picturing all these women coming after him, and I was afraid that I couldn’t compete with them.” “Oh darling,” Mrs. Bonaccord exclaimed, “you’re a beautiful woman and a wonderful person. You don’t have to be afraid of anyone. Bruce would have to be a fool to even look at another woman when he has you.” “But temptation is such a powerful thing. And when a man is as good looking as Bruce, he doesn’t have to go looking for women because they’ll come looking for him.” “But what has all this got to do with Rachael?” Mrs. Bonaccord asked, still unable to find Suzanne’s point. “Well, I guess I needed some reassurance. I guess I . . . I just needed to be sure that Bruce could resist temptation. So I asked Rachael if she would try to seduce Bruce . . . to see if he would say no.” “Oh Suzanne,” Mrs. Bonaccord exclaimed, “you didn’t!” Her initial expression of shock quickly turned into a broad smile as she found that she couldn’t escape the humor of the situation. Suzanne’s face flushed and she smiled back at her mother sheepishly. “I know it was a crazy idea,” Suzanne said, her voice quivering, “but I was . . . I . . . I just felt so insecure.” Tears began to run down Suzanne’s cheeks and her words fell into muffled sobs. Mrs. Bonaccord put her arms around her daughter, soap suds still dripping from her hands. “It’s okay, dear. It’s okay,” she comforted her. Suzanne brought her tears under control with a couple of strong snuffles. “But how could I do such a thing?” she asked desperately. “If I love Bruce as much as I think I do, I should trust him.” “Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Mrs. Bonaccord said, stroking Suzanne’s hair with her soapy hands. “Bruce is a good man, but even good men can fall to temptation. Your father was a good man, rest his soul, and Lord knows he fell to temptation enough times. So believe me, I can understand why you might worry.” Mrs. Bonaccord lifted Suzanne’s chin and looked straight into her eyes. “And your father wasn’t nearly as good looking a man as Bruce is,” she said. They stared at each other for two brief seconds and then burst into a torrent of girlish giggles. Mrs. Bonaccord put her arms around Suzanne and held her close. “Oh Suzanne,” she said softly, “you really are something special.” After a moment they turned back to the dishes. “So what did Rachael say?” Mrs. Bonaccord asked after a thoughtful pause. “She said I was crazy,” Suzanne answered. Mrs. Bonaccord rinsed a glass and put it on the rack. “Well then, you really don’t have anything to worry about, do you?”
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