Extending the MILF List Ch. 20

"Should we interrupt them?" He whispered.

"I shouldn't." I whispered back. "You can if you want." He rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me?" He said. "I can come back."

Patricia sat back into her own chair. Mercy sat draped back in her chair like she'd been flopped there, licking her lips and panting. She looked like her head was too heavy to move. Patricia took out a compact and eyed her lips, applied lipstick, dabbing at the clown face until she looked normal again. She looked up at me.

"Would you care to have sex with her?"

The waiter and I looked at each other. It struck me that this was the precise thing Mercy and Patricia had going and I got all embarrassed.

"Yes." I said. "Of course."

"No." He said. "I'm gay."

Patricia fixed her eyes on me.

"I wasn't talking to you." Her gaze left me, like releasing me from a tractor beam. Excuse me, my Trekky is showing. She fixed it onto the poor guy beside me. "If you weren't gay, would you fuck her?"

Mercy lifted her head, her eyes looked dazed, dull and glassy. I knew the feeling.

"I...you're kidding, right?"

"Not in the slightest. If you want, I'll have her stand up and bend over the table and you can park in her however you like."

The guy hissed through his teeth. I didn't know if it was resisting temptation or fighting nausea. I knew what it was for me.

"I said, I'm gay. Do you know what that means?"

Patricia grinned brightly.

"It means you like it in the ass. She has an ass. Surely you can make an exception...?"

The guy colored right up to his manicured hairline, neat like a French garden.

"I'm the catcher, dear." He said quietly. "Do you want to order or shall I come back."

"Come, if you like." Patricia muttered, over him. Mercy was only beginning to regain her senses and focus her eyes behind the glasses on the room where she sat.

"Do give us a little time to look at the menus." I said easily. When the man just stared blankly at me, I pointed at the menus under his arm. He started and handed them to me. He turned tail and skittered away out the door.

I sat down. I handed the two women menus and we perused them in silence. I felt something though and no, I'm not being coy. I finally lowered the menu and found Mercy glancing at me over and over again. Patricia caught me catching her.

"She wants me to offer her to you. She likes to be handed around. She never attracts a man on her own or takes any action to engage him. If I offer her to a man, she'll do whatever he wants of her, if I give her permission." Patricia snickered. "It's a little game we play. Being handed off for sex makes her so hot, she's always wet as a monsoon when they do her."

"What about you?" I asked, settling on the Chateaubriand.

"What about me?"

"What makes you hot?"

For a moment, Patricia's patrician ennui rippled and I saw a spark. I didn't know what it meant but something about the question glistened intensely in her eyes. It was there but then it was gone. She looked down into her menu, suddenly ignoring me.

I looked over at Mercy. She was cognizant and focused, finally. She noted my eyes on her, on her eyes, not on her magnificent tits, which I think disappointed her a little.

"So?" I asked. "What makes your sister hot, Mercy?" I addressed her directly so Patricia wouldn't be confused and think I was addressing her.

"Hot?" Mercy whispered. She looked over at Patricia.

"Don't you dare!" Patricia growled with force.

"I am so curious now."

"She fucks wrong." Mercy said, glancing sideways at the other woman again. Patricia kept her eyes locked onto the menu.

"Wrong? What? She needs lessons? A how-to video? What do you mean, she fucks wrong?"

"Always the wrong man. Any man that shouldn't be doing her and is, that makes her hot. She'd do the Pope and die of ecstasy. Or the Dali Lama. She loves sexing up the wrong man, making him drool for us..."

I had to interrupt.

"Us?"

Mercy nodded. We were conversing, finally.

"Us. Yeah. She tries to find the least likely person in the room to fuck and then she fucks them. She usually offers me to break the ice." Mercy giggled then, putting the back of her hand to her full, red lips. "It makes them all nervous. Men stare at us, though. You know, the boobs. They are hard to hide and impossible not to notice, so men stare. I prefer that actually. I get really nervous when a man looks me in the eyes. I feel all fluttery. You know, like I'm buzzed or lightheaded or something." She sipped from her water, licking her lips with long, slow swipes of her tongue.

I had to wonder if she did that intentionally. Either way, it had its effect on me. I was hard as steel.

"She gets all hot thinking about converting a gay guy or just a regular old married man. Any wrong guy and she's all over him, offering me up to make sure he's into it before she rides him off into the sunset. She never makes love on her back. Or on her knees for that matter. She's always on top, riding him." Mercy blushed then, looking over the top of her glasses at me. "You know, with his thing inside her, like that."

I glanced at Patricia and caught her watching me. Her gaze jerked back to the menu.

A waitress returned and we ordered. I wondered what happened to the gay guy but decided I didn't want to know. When she left I looked at Patricia.

"I think you scared him away." I muttered.

She shrugged.

"It happens." She said and looked away from me. Then she seemed to hitch up her britches and looked me right in the eye. "We both fuck Jamie and his dad, you know that right?"

I nodded, despite myself.

"I decide whom we fuck...and when. It keeps her excited, never sure if she's going to get some or not. It's a game, to keep her aroused."

"It works." Mercy whispered. "I'm aroused now."

"Jesus, Mercy, you're making it too easy for him." Patricia looked at me. "She always tells everything she knows."

"So she makes sure I don't know very much. I never know what's going on. For example, I don't know why we're having supper with you, here, now. Hell, I don't even know why we came back to the good old U. S. of A."

"Jamie traded you two to me for Alissa Honeywell and her sister, Melissa." I said.

"Oo. Alissa and Melissa. Isn't that precious." Patricia cooed, her faux amazement was crystalline sarcasm. "I bet they are so cute together."

"In fact, they are very competitive. I expect Jamie will be worn down to a nub by morning. He and Alissa hit it off right from the beginning. They were ready to do it on the desk..."

"And they didn't? That's not like Jamie. He has all the restraint of a crack whore." Patricia smirked when Mercy gave her a look. "Well, it's true! You know it is. He wants what he wants and his has this boyish charm that makes it impossible to keep your bra on."

Mercy rolled her eyes.

For a while no one spoke.

"So, Sonny, you say you had a dozen women this week? Tell us about them, why don't you? We love hearing a man boast about his prowess between the sheets."

I actually think that Patricia was joking, well, more likely she was being sarcastic. Still, I set out to regal them with tales of the tail I'd gotten since Monday. It turned out to be problematic. I felt the need to explain things and that got messy in a hurry. I realized I'd run right off the reservation when I got close to describing having sex with Tawny. Luckily the food arrived and I left off the narrative. While the wait staff served us, I stared at the two women trying to decide if they believed anything I'd said or not. I gave up, glad I wasn't playing poker with them.

We ate in silence for a while until Patricia put down her fork and cupped her chin in her hands and regarded me with her big bright eyes. I continued eating as though I was unaware of her lecherous scrutiny. I figured she was trying to guess my cock size. I was about to offer to let her measure it with her tongue when she finally broke the murmuring silence.

"So? Do you want her?"

I looked up from the Chateaubriand, looking at her first then over at Mercy.

"Who wouldn't? Jamie said I could have you both, though. In trade, so I figure I already have the right to fuck you both. I know he's fucked Alissa and Melissa. I saw it." I was bending the truth a little, I know but I had no doubt I was only claiming to have seen something that had for sure happened. The essence remained accurate.

"You saw it? You watched them?"

I was caught so I had to flex a little. I flexed.

"I always mount a woman before I hand her off to another guy. It lets them know she's amenable and it gets her hot and ready to be used. It makes them a little crazy, shoving them full of cock and then sauntering out the door."

"I doubt you know how to saunter, Mr. Duncan." Mercy croaked, looked embarrassed and drank some water. She licked her lips just like her sister, er, aunt did.

"You hand off a lot of women?" Patricia asked.

I grunted, chewing. I swallowed and looked at her as blandly as I could.

"Oh sure. I have five friends that I share my women with. I mean, when a woman wants the whole works, I'm about two cocks short so I enlist my buddies to help."

"The whole works?" Mercy muttered, her eyes widening behind her glasses.

"He means a traffic jam. You know, a cock in every hole."

"Airtight." I interjected.

"Oh!" Mercy's eyes got wider still, appearing like fish eyes behind her glasses. I figured she was nearly blind without them. With tits like that she didn't need to see much. If she ran into something the airbags were already inflated. I had considered they were safety glasses, though. I imagined her flinty nipples could put out an eye if she hyperventilated or jumped rope.

"How many women have you shared with your buddies?" Patricia asked.

I saw it then. The glitter of interest, tamped down behind a berm of casual blandness. I had an intuition.

"We made a list, a MILF list." I explained.

"MILF? You mean milk list?"

"Jesus, Mercy. MILF. MILF! You know, Mother I'd Like to Fuck!" Patricia said.

"Oh. Oh right. I knew that. It just wasn't computing. I get it." Then she blinked. "Mothers?"

I grinned.

"We all agreed to have sex with our mothers. That's not as easy as it sounds."

The two women looked at each other.

"Who said it sounds easy?" Mercy whispered.

"Well, for me, us, it wasn't easy anyway." I was in a spot now, implying their mother clearly didn't have the normal amount of "no" at her disposal when it came to family. Not judging, just saying. If she looked anything like these two, I was surprised she hadn't started a colony.

I proceeded to regal them with tales of the MILF List. First my circuit through it and then the introduction of each one to their sons and our subsequent plundering of their demure reserve in search of their highest sexual rapture. I got to the weekend with Laura Wills by the time we were done eating. I just stopped.

"Let's go back to the hotel. I'll see you to your door and that will be that." I was playing the long game. A woman says no, and I take it as no. I want them to say "yes" because that phrase, "Yes, Sonny" is so damn sexy. However, I really love the women who say "no" and then exercise their prerogative to change their minds. If they say "yes" it needs to be their idea, not mine. I'll offer but in the end, when I have them, I want to have them, just as they get what they want. So I swallowed their "no" and walked them back to the hotel.

They walked behind me in the bracing cold. For a while I just walked, alone in the night. I glanced backwards at one point and saw them kissing, walking and kissing, which is no easy task and not in the cold. They seemed to flow together, like two articulated parts of one erotic creature bubbling with lurid attraction. I wanted them, I wanted them both. I turned back to the dark street. Snow was in the air again, swirling, floating, dancing. I was alone and I was lonely.

I realized Tawny and Dalia were waiting for me. I'd need to tell them to go home, that the night was a bust. I smiled sardonically. I might get a restful night's sleep after all. Then my body tingled and I felt it, the lewd regret, that longing to couple, to mount a woman while she panted under me, the feel of her enveloping flesh, her hands clinging to me while she writhes under me. Her lips kiss me and the ecstasy begins to build, like a throbbing tide, rising up a sensuous beach until the rocks are bashed with white caps and the whole ocean roars in your ears as the orgasm catapults you out of the moment into that suspension where every nerve vibrates with pleasure and time stops, suspended while you float in ecstasy. Her legs wrap around you and you unburden yourself deep inside her. And she knows.

She feels it, that thrusting need, the dynamic lust, the penetrating delight that surrounds her like a big, fluffy blanket and makes her shiver with that unalloyed satisfaction, the sure knowledge that the man buried deep inside her pussy is consumed with his need of her and she loves being needed, loves the tangled lust pulling at her from the inside out, torturing her while her own orgasm lingers just beyond her reach until, in a blinding, flashing moment, it gyrates through her, pistoning her full of his cum while he stiffens and groans and thrusts into her.

It was like I floated in the night. Suddenly, all the fucking, all the women, all the sex that had inundated my life in the last week or so, it all coalesced into a quivering sensation of need for which I had no outlet. I resolved to cozen it, to keep it as mine and to let it ferment and grow and mature so that when I next exposed a woman's breasts and took the aureole between my lips and licked over the hard little nub of her aroused nipple, I would be fully present, fully committed to her pleasure but more than that, fully committed to letting her feel my thrill with her body, touching her as completely as a single man can.

I laughed.

"What are you laughing about." Mercy said from behind me.

I turned to look at them.

"I'm just glad to be alive." I said, thinking of a woman chock full of cock, of all the women I'd granted that little boon, the thrill of being penetrated by three men at once, and feeling their collective passion flow into her body, it all washed over me and I had an existential moment. I was happy to be alive.

I pulled open the door and let the two voluptuous women sidle past me, both looking at me with askance glances replete with perplexity and chagrin. I was laughing at a joke they were not privy to and true to who they were, they were vexed at being excluded. It really wasn't tit for tat, since this tat was heading to an empty bed...it was just the way things were and I found I was just as thrilled to feel this luscious desire for them going unrealized as if I'd been escorting them up to a quick transition out of my clothes and me into them. I had a moment, watching them walk towards the elevator when I imagined them side by side, on their backs, naked, panting with excitement, watching me enter the other, lowering my body between her legs and then changing, wobbling over between her legs and entering the other sister, back and forth until I thrust full into one of them and left her bubbling full of my orgasmic mixer. I wanted them so much I felt it on my skin, like scales, chilly and real but tingling because they were alien and new.

I was filled with desire.

Mercy turned to look over her shoulder. I glimpsed with great satisfaction the regret in her eyes. I loved that feeling, seeing her turning away, Patricia's arm around her waist, tugging her away from what she wanted to partake in, something else she clearly wanted. Patricia clearly held her in full thrall and unless she broke free of it and offered herself to me, I'd not have her. I knew that but the rich taste of desire on my lips left me ebullient and lighthearted.

I walked to the door to the bar and pulled it open, not really thinking of my sisters sitting there waiting for me and the disappointment I was bringing them. I had no audience for them. Maybe tomorrow but god, I was like a starlet promoting a porn film on an army base, my dance card was chock full tomorrow.

I saw Tawny first.

She sparkled, literally. She wore a silver dress; she looked like a redneck Christmas tree, like she was a hall decked with icicles made of heavy aluminum. She saw me and she licked her lips. Her eyes were heavily made up, giving her that carnivorous look a woman gets when she wants to leave no doubt that she is a sure thing. The eye shadow was dark, blue I'd see clearly in better light. Mascara outlined her eyes with a cursive flare that was at once bold and brash but still mysterious, like it was part of a veil now missing. She watched me and licked her lips as I drifted through the tables towards their booth.

Dalia sat facing away from me. She wore a tight gray dress that hugged her curves like a coat of frost on a Rolls Royce. When she finally noticed Tawny's eyes fixed on me, she twisted around and pointed her tits at me, dead serious, like a battleship preparing to start a war. Her face, however, was a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, like a virgin about to be sacrificed to Hollywood, the God of Orgies. A virgin in Hollywood is as rare as a beautiful woman I don't want to fuck. We have that in common, I think, Hollywood and me.

Tawny stood up. She wore an odd pair of high heeled boots. She didn't speak. Her pose said, "take me" without words. It was unmistakable. She spoke before I could, mostly because I just didn't want to tell them they had to go home. Why, you might ask, wasn't I dragging them off to my room and having them all to myself? My reasoning was not cogent, I'll admit. I had it in my head that I couldn't fuck them without an audience to smooth my penetration of them. Lazy as that sounds, to let some goggle-eyed on-looker manage the pre-coital stimulation, that was what I had in my mind and sometimes, my brain is not as flexible as the women I take to bed. I need prompting to take the moment by the ass and fuck it till...and I'm spent, the metaphor fizzles out.

"Sonny, we agreed. Me first, then her." Tawny said, stepping towards me when I was within arms length.

I glanced at Dalia. She was nodding. Tawny had hold of my arm and pressed her breasts against me. It was like sprinkling saw dust on a fire. If you've never done that, its a great way to lose your eyebrows. When I did that, it was the only time I felt what it was like to have crunchy eyebrows and no eyelashes. Her chilled fingers on my arms, still coated, felt like thrilling ice. Her body, hot and alive seethed against me, pulsing with ardor.

We were nearly to the elevators before the sensations roaring through me gapped enough to let conscious thought back into my world. We arrived as a wash of people flooded out of an open car. Tawny knifed through them, slicing through the knot of people waiting and took her position against the back of the lift, tugging me along in her sparkling wake.

Then she kissed me.

She pulled me into an embrace so full of need, so ripe with lust, I had no other thought than to blend with the lurid invitation emanating from her like beauty off a rose. It was palpable. Her arms wound around my neck. Her silvered breasts bunched against my chest. Her richly filigreed eyes caressed me with lewd anticipation. She kissed me, pulling me into the gravity well of her lust like a sun pulls in everything that gets too close. Her lips consumed me, fully and lush, her tongue found and lashed at me, piercing my mouth as I would pierce her. She vibrated with passion. She was incandescent, her body grinding against me. She kissed me and for a moment, I was still, not perplexed exactly but this was not how I'd thought this moment would go. I was all bound up with my sad, bad news.