Extending the MILF List Ch. 18

"Other?"

"You're blonde." I said, gesturing with a limp wrist and an oh so casual twinkle of my fingers. "And very attractive for a mother of two. Borland holds you in high regard. I can't tell you how often he..." I stopped. Now it might seem like that was a tactical halt to a sentence that could only land me in the ditch but it was actually shock at seeing Mrs. Bickerstaff the first and a younger woman, black like her, follow her into the bar. They scanned the place, not focusing on me or the blonde sitting on the stool next to me...I'd sat down with my back to the bar so I was facing the room and Mrs. Northcutt had to turn to look at me, so her back was to the entrance. I saw Mrs. Bickerstaff the first come through the door.

Carol the Bickerstaff said something to the woman with her, a frighteningly beautiful young woman with those eyes that said "Yes, of course," followed closely by "if you dare, you can try." They were darkly inviting and brilliantly challenging all at the same time. It was like she was inviting you to feed her pet alligator and the ambiguity was potentially killing.

The two black women strutted, tits forwards and asses trailing, they strutted, the only word for it, over to the table right at my knees, glanced at me and sat. I turned around and faced the bar so Mrs. Northcutt wouldn't see them. I don't know why. Well, I do but I'll let you figure it out in a minute. Should be easy. I didn't know at the time; I thought Mrs. Bickerstaff would book as soon as the blonde got her hook in me. I underestimated her commitment.

"So, anyway..." The barkeep came over and set down our drinks. He was a sharp, pen drawing of a man with a pencil mustache and slicked back black hair and plucked eyebrows. He wore a white shirt with green stripes with a garter around his left upper arm. No idea what that meant and I wasn't asking.

"...he decided that hooker Wednesdays made sense, you know, hump day and all."

"Hump day?" Carol Lynn sucked on her martini. She looked up at me. "I think you're lying. He'd never..."

"Let me tell you about the one I'm meeting today." I began. I heard a squeak from behind me. I almost chuckled, it stuck to my teeth and I took a swig of the martini to get some lubrication, maybe the first time in history anyone ever swigged a martini.

"She's about five-foot-one in bare feet. The first time I fucked her was in a bistro. She was a regular with this guy, a Mr. Bickerstaff," I spoke the name for the benefit of the two women sitting before me, studiously not looking at me but not talking or moving or anything, which indicated to me they were surely listening to my little narrative.

"Mr. Bickerstaff was defrauding her and I had become engaged to extract her from her predicament. To prove to him that she was mine to fuck and not his any longer, I fucked her right in the restaurant, her legs to each side of mine in a booth. Later I ate her till she screamed and then fucked her. She's rather willing to be what I want today. She's eager. You'll see, if you stick around. I was going to meet her around five. She loves to kiss, kisses like her life depends on it."

"I didn't think hookers ever kissed."

"Couldn't prove it by me." I muttered. "God, I thought she was going to take out my tonsils. I boiled over and she came a couple times while I was mounted between her legs. I couldn't believe it. She went off like she'd been primed before I got there. She was slated to fuck Mr. Bickerstaff and when I got to her, she was all smarmy inside, like she was anticipating that fat man and that meant only one thing. She loved to fuck."

Carol Lynn was staring at me, her eyes getting wider and wider.

"And you say Borland paid for her?"

I smirked.

"It was a dry run. One of his running buddies, this Mr. Bickerstaff, wanted a go at Suzanne and he wanted to use the Hooker as a diversion, just to see if it was a fixation or just a general case of the hornies. Hmm, I never did ask about that, which it was. Anyway, god, you won't believe this. Me and a buddy did her together, one and one, ass and pussy. She is small and god was she a tight little package!"

Carol Lynn just stared at me. Beyond her, I could see the prissy barkeep with his ears pricked up, soaking up my story. He'd polished the same tumbler for the last five minutes.

"She took us both on, ass and pussy and came and came, but she really loves having a little tongue to go with her cock."

I took another swig of my martini and some went down the wrong pipe. I spent the next couple minutes panting and choking while the vodka scrubbed the varnish off my larynx. Carol Lynn didn't offer to help me at all. She just sat there and about half way through my contortions, she fucking ordered another martini for us both. The bitch. I'm choking to death and she's making time with the barkeep.

She was a cool customer.

When I finally got my shit together again, she calmly waited for me to resume my introduction to Ellen Collier. I had a flash of Ellen's ghostly white body nibbling first white Carol and then black Carol, tongue to pussy. That thought gave me another massive anxiety attack because she was supposed to be a prop in the Travers drama. She might have to do double duty. Fuck me. She'd owe me twice as nice.

"Where was I?" I asked, wiping the tears from my eyes.

"You were about to fuck Ms. Hooker in the ass."

"Mrs. Hooker, if you please. She was a very nice MILF, is a very nice MILF but with no daughter, not really, so she was only half the perfect fuck."

"Half?" Carol Lynn asked, arching an aristocratic eyebrow.

"MILF and Daughter is the perfect fuck." I said, maybe just a little too loud. I heard a rumble from behind me so I knew Caroline the Bickerstaff had received my long verbal pass. I hadn't forgotten her; her presence pressed at the hairs on the back of my neck making it tickle, waiting for her to inject herself into my narrative, demanding that I shut up and inject myself into her. I waited in vain, but it made me both tense and hard. "Nothing better than a mother-daughter team at the same time. God, its awesome trying to get them to fit on the same bed at the same time and not scratch each other's eyes out. I feel like a lion tamer wearing eau d'sausage." I did laugh then, which was a relief because the nervous energy was zinging around inside me like a pissed-off bee in a coffee can.

"Bullshit." Carol Lynn hissed. "You never fucked a woman and her daughter?" Her voice made the statement a question.

I knew I was getting to her. Fuck me.

"Really? You're only saying that because your daughter ain't of age yet. Jealous? Thinking about it? Watching your sweet daughter hunching a mile of cock six inches at a time."

"That all you got?" Carol Lynn whispered ominously.

"Oh, don't be petty." I said proudly. "I'm not. I assure you."

The blonde woman glared at me.

I drank and got the address right this time. It tasted like it was all vodka and I desperately wanted a beer to wash it down with. Swig goes with beer, right? I was shaking so nothing was really feeling right. All I could think about was the Travers women traipsing into the joint and getting the right idea about me. What would they do then? When did I tell Ellen to meet me here? Shit, did I tell her where to meet me? That's what phones are for, right? I'd lost track of where I was in my story.

"The first time, though was in a store. In a dressing room." I was thinking of the first time I did Kyla Clark in the dressing room. That became my story. My mind shifted from Ellen to Kyla.

"Mr. Duncan?" Carol Lynn snapped her fingers.

"What?"

"You were saying?"

I detected the little trickle of interest in the blonde woman. I switched Ellen's name for Kyla in my story, thinking of Kyla but saying Ellen, just to be confusing.

"Where was I? Oh, right. Ellen's ass. What an ass that woman has. I mean I pushed into her and it was like fucking a sponge cake. She was tight and wet and plush, just like a really good sponge cake. Not that dry dusky shit that needs ice cream and chocolate sauce to approximate food. No, she was dripping wet...I reached around and fiddled with her a little and that made her just plumb crazy."

"Stop talking like that. Use your own voice."

Jesus, I'd only just met the woman and she was already ordering me around. I did straighten up a little though dropping my hackneyed Southern drawl.

"Ellen's ass is a world wonder. She, I don't mean to be crass but she had ass control like I never knew was possible. She could massage my cock like a pianist. I couldn't believe it. I sank into her and she groaned. I thought I was going to come again right then so I went still and just let it lay in her. She didn't seem to mind. She just wriggled her ass and hummed a little. She was hot and incredible."

This time I sipped the martini like you're supposed to. The vodka kicked at me. I tried to kick back but had nothing.

"So?" Mrs. Northcutt the former said, pressing for more details. When she realized she'd spoke out loud, she groaned a little and closed her eyes. "Goddamn you." She muttered.

I wasn't sure how anything was my fault at this point. I felt like a jazz singer at a seance. The dead one, I mean, at the seance. How I'd gotten into this story I wasn't sure but it seemed like a good idea. I decided to ignore Carol Lynn cursing me for the moment. I had no idea where this particular path led but it felt pretty cool telling this hot, strange blonde woman about ass fucking Ellen. It was making me all hot and bothered...well, Carol Lynn had a lot to do with that, that and the tickling inkling that she was on the prowl and I was the prey.

"So, she comes and screams real loud, like she was being tortured or something. She screamed and someone came and banged on the door and told us they were calling the police. She twisted around, with me still planted in her dark dirt garden and opened the door. She was naked and the guy just stared at her, with me wagging behind her like a big ugly rooster tail. She told him if he'd hang on, she blow him. Then she shut the door.

"Now I never would have believed a woman could walk around with a cock in her ass and not punch me out on the floor like...well, like I wasn't wanted any longer. She did though. She had a hand on my thigh to let me know not to give up on the whole thing and she jiggered around to open the door and speak to the guy like it was the most normal thing in the world to chat up someone with a cock jammed up her butt. When she closed the door, she planted her hands on each side of it and told me to finish up, she might need to have a go with the store clerk.

"I'd gotten all scared and usually that sort of fear just drives away the inspiration but something about her, something about being in her ass like that, about being seen like that reversed all my phobias and turned them into fetishes. I suddenly wished she'd left the door open. Fuck me, I did. I began to poke in and out of her and she went back to panting. She kept patting my leg on the thigh like she was reassuring me or something, or maybe urging me on. You know, like giddy-up. She groaned and then she dropped her head and started pushing back at me each time I rammed into her.

"I came. It was like a car crash. You're toodling along minding your own business and suddenly wham! Your fillings are all loose and your eyes are blurry. I grabbed her by the waist and pumped into her as hard and fast as I could. She seemed to soften, then, like she relaxed, going all gooey around me, but still tight. I can't describe it but I came and came. I left her naked in that room. I don't know if she blew the guy or fucked him or what. She's on the way. She's who I got the room for." I was a little dishonest, since it was actually Ellen I had lined up. It wasn't completely inaccurate because if I got my ass in a crack I figured I could indeed call Mrs. Clark and have her report for duty, pre-lubed and ready to be mounted. So, even though the plan wasn't actually active, it was potential because of previous arrangements which I had every right to claim as my own.

"How much?" Mrs. Northcutt the former asked, her voice tight. "How much for her magic ass?"

"A grand, I think." I spoke without thinking.

The blonde woman closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were shining and fierce.

"I have fantasies about being a hooker." She said softly. "I like the idea of having a man use me for sex." She smiled. "That, that idea of having him use me and then handing me cash...its not that, or even that I'd feel sexually stimulated in a physical sense...no, its the idea that he is so aroused, so excited, so thrilled to be with me that humpa humpa boom and he's done symbolizes, it means, it means something."

"It means you are damn sexy and attractive, and, well, fuckable." I offered. I expected assent and a glance of appreciation that I'd clearly noticed but instead she just sat still, staring at the bar mirror cluttered with booze bottles. After a moment of her soft silence, I realized she was staring at herself in the mirror, looking into her own eyes. God knows what she was saying to herself but I wished the playwrite had made it a soliloquy that I could hear because I sensed it would have been very instructive, filled with insights into the milfius pussicus species of female that I seemed to attract with my version of catnip.

After a moment she broke the stare with herself and looked at me via the mirror, slightly shifting her gaze from her own eyes to focus on mine, in the mirror since I was staring at her image in the clear glass cluttered with green exotic booze bottles.

"Thank you, Mr. Duncan. That is kind of you to say." Her face flushed and the smile slight smile seemed to illuminate her, like a soft spotlight.

If I hadn't known better I'd of mistaken that look for embarrassment, the sort of proud shame that comes with a really good confession that makes the priest stop sounding bored and start taking notes. I knew better, though. She'd found her entree to my world or my pants, and in she danced, like the part had been written for her.

"What if you send your hooker away and let me live out my fantasy? I'll be your hooker. You can have me do whatever you want."

I swallowed despite my eager desire to do whatever I wanted with her. It was mostly to keep from appearing as the rapacious klutz who'd come on her belly button before I got her white jeans past her hipbones. I wanted to display a sufficient reluctance to give her the hope of getting me inside her before I greased her up.

"Anything?" I said, using my best amazed voice.

She blinked and then turned her head to look directly at me, without using the mirror.

I waited for a reply but it wasn't forth coming. I got impatient.

"You have lube in your purse?" I asked, not letting her knock me off my stride. I spoke just about as she was speaking, as though my first sound had pulled the thought past her parted lips.

"Everything." She breathed into the thicket of my words.

I went silent.

"What did you say?" She asked softly.

"I said, do you have lube in your purse?"

She gulped and shook her head.

"Then whatever I want may not be on the table but hey, if you're volunteering, I don't mind if I take you for a test ride."

"Test ride? Honey, I'm the limousine you rent but don't own." Her moment of vulnerability passed without leaving anything behind. Mrs. Northcutt had the look of a predator in her eyes as it closes on its prey. I'd been running pretty hard but at that moment, I slowed down. A lot.

"You're kidding right? Because that sounds just like a challenge."

The blonde woman's eyes glittered. She didn't speak. It took a few moments but I finally realized she was waiting on me to take some positive action.

"Check please." I signaled to the barkeep. He came over, smoothing the front of his body along the counter to stand before us. I handed him a twenty. He didn't leave so I gave him another and then another. He smiled at me with his thin wet lips and left me to my piece.

I looked at Mrs. Nortcutt and glimpsed Mrs. Bickerstaff the former out of the corner of my eye. She stared glassy-eyed at her daughter whom I could not see so well.

I leaned towards Mrs. Northcutt.

"I am a little confused about the situation. Do I brag about fucking you to your ex or keep it to myself?"

The look she gave me was priceless. She didn't respond but took hold of my hand and tugged me out of port at the bar and out to the elevator. I trudged just to make her put her back into the tow, tugging hard at my wrist. It felt like I should make her strain a little, just to add a little tension to the situation. It also allowed me to cast a look behind me at the Bickerstaff women. Mrs. Bickerstaff the first was staring at me over her shoulder. The daughter's eyes were fixed on her mother, a sort of disbelief that you usually only see at Christmas and they got a Cadillac instead of a stick horse. Mrs. Northcutt pulled me to the elevator and it arrived empty and left with us inside.

We stood side by side, Carol Lynn holding onto my wrist with her thumb and index finger, like I was a soiled hanky or something.

"I don't fuck a woman that can't kiss." I muttered sideways.

"I can kiss."

"You're a MILF and divorced. Sure you haven't forgotten how?"

"Try me." She said.

I turned to look at her. Her chin jutted forward and her eyes met mine with a direct gaze. She didn't blink. I waved her off.

"I'll wait." I said.

The elevator got to my floor and I shook my wrist free of her clutches and got a hold of her elbow and propelled her down the hall almost at a trot as though I had some fear she'd change her mind. I didn't feel that fear but I did feel like running and the fast walk seemed to take forever to get us to the door. My hands were shaking so hard she took the card from me and opened the door herself, a slight smile on her rich lips.

We entered the room. She dropped her purse, a sling-style packet that rode on her hip. She shrugged her shoulder and her long coat pooled at her feet. She wore a tight long-sleeved lime sweater that hugged her lean body a like banana in its peel, and tight white jeans. I dropped my coat against the door. For a moment we stared at each other but I had a plan. I reached for her and tucked my fingers under the edge of her sweater and pulled it up. Her arms zoomed over her head and I exposed her belly and breasts before pulling the thing off her hands.

She looked inordinately pleased with herself when her face appeared. I dropped the sweater onto her coat. I moved my hands up to her face and kissed her. She returned the kiss. I tasted the lust on her lips, like a coating of special honey charged with electricity. Instead of pushing her back against the wall, I pulled her forward, against me. I held her by the jaw, a hand on each side of her face as I kissed her. When I straightened my torso, she had to stretch to keep contact and did. It was like she dangled by the lips before me. On her tiptoes, she kicked at her coat and let her body swing against me, like a closing drape.

I grabbed her by the ass with one hand and straightened more. Her legs lifted off the ground and her hands tightened around my neck as her weight lost their support. I put both hands on her white jeans, clasping her lean ass. Her legs wrapped around me, locking her against me. I felt her bare back on my forearms and her crotch ground against my hard cock. I walked us into the living room, kicking through the scattered clothing and into the right bedroom, kissing her the whole time but watching one one eye. I dropped her onto the bed. She fell, releasing me to fall the couple feet on to her back.