Sharing the MILF List Ch. 06

"Imagine how it will feel to have a cock running into your ass after getting spanked good." For a second my 'sensitivity alarm' went off but the look of lust on her face changed the moment.

"Oh! I had not thought about that yet. Oh my gawd, now I am!"

I mentally shrugged. "So, if I can get you airtight this weekend, you would be willing to make your body available for our pleasure?"

Natasha stared at me, digesting my words but then she nodded.

"And if it comes to it, heating your ass would be okay with you?" I asked the question really knowing the answer but it needed asking.

"Heating?" Natasha said, puzzled.

"Beating, dear woman."

"Oh. The belt you mean?" She nodded again, a bit breathless.

One more thing occurred to me. "How do you feel about blindfolds. I did not cover Annie's eyes, frankly it had not occurred to me but I am thinking it might be . . . more interesting for you if you were blindfolded.

Something in Mrs. Rossini's eyes changed and it was like she was actually seeing me for the first time, like her brain started taking calls from something other than her thrumming clit or pulsing pussy. "Blindfold?" She said softly. A finger touched her lips and pulled at the lower one. It was such a weird motion I stared at her. She looked like a little girl, like she was channeling her memory of being a child. It looked really creepy. Children should have childhoods and leave the messy business of fucking to adults. Natasha Rossini looked all too adult. "Why not." She said, not a question. "You were not listening too well, were you? Didn't I mention that he raped me while I was blindfolded?"

I pressed the subject, eager to be sure I had not scarred the woman. "I mean, do you have any phobias or something about having your eyes covered, and your hands will be bound." I found I liked being thorough. It usually seemed to me in the past that all this sort of shit had to be a surprise or no one would go for it. But that is not the world I live in. I wanted her to be thinking about it for . . . I had no intention of telling her when her eyes would be covered or her hands tied or her ass beaten, I wanted her thinking about it all the time. It was a different sort of foreplay and I liked the idea. Suddenly I was interested in seeing if it would all work the way I was seeing it. I wanted to try it.

She shook her head slowly, her eyes blanking as something changed again.

"Mrs. Rossini, what is it?"

When her eyes fixed on me, whatever was happening passed. "When I was, maybe nineteen, we played a game. There were like four or five couples. One of us put on a blindfold and then stood in the center of a circle of the rest, of everyone else. Then they touched me. First it was a single hand, then it was many hands. One unbuttoned my blouse. Another lifted my skirt. We had a pot, whoever went the longest got the money. I was competitive back then. Someone ran their hand up between my legs. It was a girl and she exclaimed that I was wet! She was so surprised. I did not move. I just stood there while they undressed me, touching me, stroking me. I got so excited I think I would have fucked them all but my date threw in the towel. I was furious and there was no sex for either of us that night; it was a matter of principle. So no, I have no difficulty with having my eyes covered."

She had been staring past me, in the past, as it were but now her eyes fixed on me. "You cannot tell anyone about that." She whispered. "I remember it so clearly, being so excited. I want to be that excited again. I felt it watching the Annie, watching her scream."

I did not remember screams so much as grunts but who was I to correct her memories. Natasha was clearly filling in fantasies where her memory did not suffice. If she wanted there to have been screams, then screams there were. I nodded. "Good. So, you have it now, Mrs. Rossini, airtight. At some moment when you are least expecting it, expect a visit from us. Or maybe just me. Annie has been fucked, raped by at least three of us. She loves it."

"I am sure she does." Mrs. Rossini breathed. "I am sure I will love whatever you decide to do with me." Her face changed and then she got up from the table and disappeared into a closet. She turned with a key dangling from one finger. "This is a key to the back door, there. Use that if you like, that way you don't have to enlist my own son in fucking me." She stared at me, waiting. When I did not answer she added in a small, quiet voice. "Feel free to make copies." She bit her lower lip.

The statement was so odd, it halted my thinking. I really had not planned to stay, to linger. But something in her manner, something in her eyes . . . I actually thought to myself that it would be a crime to leave her like this. Criminal and I was not a criminal, not yet. Well, technically, I had not been caught any way. Does the tree make a sound in the forest and all that. Pussy can change your life; the euphemism for it was once marriage but I think it was always pussy. Pussy! Pussy! Pussy!

The silence between us stretched and her eyes lowered. Mrs. Rossini wore a man's shirt buttoned tight to her neck, like she was getting ready to put on a tie. It was a burnt orange-brown plaid with orange and green stripes running through it and hung on her torso, clearly too large for her. It served more as a drape than a shirt but her breasts still filled it. Her slacks were cream and loose, soft to my touch when I put a hand on her knee. Her head bowed a little more as her breathing changed.

"Mrs. Rossini," I spoke her name.

She looked up at me, her eyes soft, blurry. "Natasha, call me Natasha."

"I have not had you on a bed." I said softly, testing to see if her memory was any better. The comment snapped her eyes into sharp focus, focus not recollection.

"No, you haven't." She said. She ran a hand under the hair that fell over her eyes, flipping it back away from her face but slowly.

"I think it is time, don't you?" I said. I really, really needed to leave, I had so much work to do but I was all het up from wrangling Alissa and the plan was formed and it excited me. I had the pieces . . . I just had to fit tabs into slots and it would all work. I just did not know how it would work when I got it together. The moment stretched.

Natasha had not moved. Her two hands held her hair, like they were not things, almost hiding her eyes. I stood up and looked down on her. She dropped her hands into her lap and looked up at me. It was the most composed, peaceful look! It made her look angelic and I wanted nothing so much as to despoil that purity and make her howl like a demon again. I extended an hand before her eyes. She put hers into mine and stood when I pulled. She turned into my arms, pressing her ass against my engorged cock. My hand laid lightly on her hip, low, right on the point of it except with her, there was no point there, just the full curve of her body. I ran it up her side to the rib cage and from there, cupped her very full, very bare, braless breast through the heavy shirt.

"I have told myself I should not pursue this. I have talked to myself about you and what you do to me, what you did to me, what you have done to me." She spoke to the emptiness before us while my hand rested on her breast. When it moved, she inhaled and her body seemed to relax against me. "But after last night . . . ." she began but my other hand stroked down between her legs which she opened. "Since, ugh, last night, I am wild inside. I want to be fucked, Sonny. I sent Brent away so I would not, not tie him to the bed and fuck him all day! I wanted to. Gawd but I wanted . . . ahhhhh." She sighed as my hand unbuttoned the slacks and snaked down the front of her abdomen and found the curls of her pubic hair. When I touched her pussy, she jumped and then pressed harder back against my wooden cock, fitting it into the crevice of her ass.

"The bed." I prompted. She looked up at me. She had that 'prey' look in her eyes; the look that that said, 'you are hunting me and I am your prey and I don't know whether to fight or open my legs for you.' I like that look in woman's eyes. The measuring look of need mixed with the reservations of culture and civilization, social convention and inhibitions well-manicured but no fear, only anticipation and the clanging deafening roar of sexual need.

"When you left me that first time, in the kitchen, I felt like I had been turned inside out. Nothing and no one looked the same. I started staring at Brent's," she licked her lips, "at my son's crotch, imagining it, him. Then, then in the basement I saw her lowering down onto him. I saw his huge cock and I got so wet. I dream about it."

"Not about me?" I asked, disappointment dripping from words, remember her early testimony and wanting to hear it again; a small vanity in a man.

She twisted, trying to look into my eyes and smiled, an ashen smile. She lifted her chin. "I let you take me, I demanded you take me and when you all left, I came back to the house in only the nightie you fucked me in. Brent saw me and his face . . . I wanted to explain, I wanted to take him in my arms and tell him everything would be okay. He looked so . . . crushed. I swore I would not follow through on it. I swore that I would not do this to him."

"Changed your mind?" I made it a question and dangled the key she had given me.

"Geezus Sonny, I want my own son! I want him to fuck me. I want to fuck him!" She shivered but it was not cold that convulsed all those little muscles that make a shiver work. It was something utterly different. "Again, I mean. I'll do anything you want if you can . . . can . . . "

" . . . get him between your knees?" I finished helpfully. "Again." I added belatedly.

" . . . help." She finally finished. When my words registered, she blushed. "Me." She added, belatedly.

My cock was so hard I thought sure I would splash her from behind. I moved my hands down to her waist and pulled her hard against my cock, crushing us together.

Natasha moaned. She took one of my hands and moved it up her body till it covered her breast once more. She put her hand over mine and pressed it onto the stiff shirt fabric, filling my hand with the weight of her breast. My cock responded fully.

"Have you ever seen anyone else fuck? I mean, have you ever watched another woman have intercourse?" I asked. "I mean right here, in front of your eyes, where you can touch her?" The question was stupid and I realized it only after posing it. She had seen us do Annie in her own basement.

Natasha shook her head which seemed odd to me.

"Brent, he fucked Annie and my mother . . . " I hesitated but then pressed onwards, "and Mrs. Wills. We, the two of us went to my house and fucked them, after I fucked you in the kitchen."

For a moment she went completely still at me. "Cheese and crackers, Sonny, you must be . . . oh, you are young! What a waste youth is on the young!" Her head lulled back onto my shoulder with a sigh, massaging her own breast with my hand.

"Brent knows I fucked you, Mrs. Rossini." I left the statement in the air and she seemed to waver, her body swaying with the pressure her own hand created on her chest.

Her head lifted, looking forward before us, distracted but still pressing her plush ass against my cock. "Does he want . . .?" She stalled before she could finish the thought. She seemed to emerge from the soothing zone she was in. "Of course he wants to. He did. But, Sonny, do you think, do you think it is okay if, if he, if we . . .?"

I freed my hand and with the other took hold of the collar and unbuttoned that top, tight button. Mrs. Rossini hissed. I unbuttoned the next one. She closed her eyes. I dropped my hands and her head lulled back on to my shoulder, questioning—why don't you open my shirt all the way? She seemed to be saying.

"Bed." I whispered.

She did not move.

I lifted my hands to the next button and opened it, revealing the valley of her two breasts. I touched that crease of flesh briefly then moved to the next button. Her hands ghosted my movements, touching and brushing my skin as I undid the button. And the next, and the next; Natasha definitely swayed then. She sagged against me and ground her ass back against me. When I got to her waist, I stopped, leaving the last button intact. I pressed it with a thumb and she tensed; it was near her pussy and I think maybe it touched her clit. Her hands tightened on my arms.

"Bed." I said again. I felt certain that if she did not recognize me on her bed, last night would remain her cherished fantasy. I figured that would be fine. What a crock. Of course she remembered. I realized that she was protecting a fantasy by playing like she did not know, did not remember.

"Yes." Mrs. Rossini breathed. Slowly she eased out of my grasp. She turned to face me, blinking her eyes so slowly it was not a blink at all but a closing and opening focusing and closing again, pressing the lids closed and opening very, very wide. When I leaned in to kiss her, her body flowed against me and she clung to me. "Yes. Bed." She sighed.

My arms had gone around her and gripped her ass but I felt it tense and released her. She twisted away from me and with a hold on one hand, pulled me out of the kitchen down to the bedroom at the end of the hallway. Her bedroom. Brent's door was closed. The door opened and we were inside. She pulled me to the bed and stopped with it against the backs of her knees. "Take me." She said softly. "I want it all. Tie me, eat me, fuck my pussy, mouth and ass. Use me, all of you. Do the Annie!" She spoke with fierce intensity while keeping her voice to a husky whisper. "I want it. However. Whenever. Wherever you want me!"

I unbuttoned the last button. I moved away from her and began to undress. I stared at her, an image of lust, need and desire. Seeing a woman with her blouse unbuttoned, half-covering bare breasts but showing skin from tummy to neck always stopped me, grabbing my attention and focusing me. I began to remove my shirt, a stiff oxford shirt, taking my time with each button, making the minimalist motions seem like raucous action. I unbuttoned my pants and let them sag down my thighs. I pulled off my undershirt. I stopped.

"Do you want to finish?" I asked, rubbing a palm over my very stiff, very hard cock, which tented my blue briefs.

Natasha hugged herself. Then she got to her knees, put the tips of the fingers of both hands inside the waistband and pulled my briefs out and down, freeing my cock. Her mouth twitched while her hands struggled to get the briefs down my legs. She did not notice I did not help finally bending to push them to my ankles, tucking them into my pooled pants against the sneakers I wore.

She looked up at me. "My gawd, Sonny, it is just like this last night. He made me knee, over there on the other side of the bed and I sucked his cock. Just like this." She smiled up at me, her eyes returned to the instrument before her.

When her lips touched the end of my cock I thought my head with explode; well, both heads I guess. Then her tongue, gently, carefully, delicately touched the head, moving around the helmet a couple times very slowly before tracing the edge with the soft, damp pad of her tongue. I shivered. I actually shivered it felt so intense. Her hands rested on my thigh and the other hip, so gently her touch almost did not register. She sat on her knees but raised up a little to get my cock even with her mouth. Then she sucked me into her mouth, her lips smoothing along the shaft as she pressed her head onto me, fucking her face with my cock. In and out, in and out, in and out my cock vanished and appeared, her mouth and lips and tongue caressing my cock while she held my body. Her eyes were fixed on me, her face canted to look up which put her at an odd angle to suck my cock.

I had a 'moment', noting I was nearly or practically nude while she was nearly dressed. Her shirt was open and her breasts hung clear of it, but covered at their tips, so she seemed demure while at that very moment, she was sucking my cock, her hands moving up and down on my bare thighs. My orgasm seemed to key off that sensation because I began to cum the next time her lips shifted down my shaft and the head of my cock lodged in the back of her throat. Her hands went to my cock and balls. She squeezed them as I came and I jerked and swayed. One of her hands gripped my ass and steadied me. She sucked and sucked, licking and sucking my cock as I ejaculated into her mouth. She swallowed over and over. Initially she was staring up my bare body at me but then her eyes closed so I could not see any part of her soul, only her gorgeous body, quivering with need.

I wondered if her recollection of taste was as fuzzy as her memory of other things.

She did not release me when the spurting stopped. She continued to suck and suck and my cock responded by not responding, remaining as it was, completely hard, stiff and ready. When she was certain my cock was not going to deflate she pulled her mouth off of it. Her lips slicking along the shaft and hooking on the ridge of the head before she completely left me with a soft pop. She giggled a little and sat back on her knees, looking up at me.

"Bed." I said again. Complete sentences seemed to be overkill.

I helped her stand and then smoothed the shirt off her shoulders, unveiling her beauteous breasts. She watched it drop. Her eyes caught on my slacks and briefs around my ankles. She gave me a little push on the chest and I stumbled, shuffling to maintain my balance. When I felt it about to leave me entirely, I sat hard onto my bare ass. I stared balefully up at the woman from the floor and then removed shoes and clothing. Her big breasts swayed as she moved and her straight belly revealed the care she gave to her appearance.

I got to my feet again and moved in front of her. I pulled one nipple then the other. She hugged her arms about her breasts, demure once more. I reached around her, pressing my chest against her bent wrists, and gripped her ass. I found and released the catch on her slacks. They were billowy and baggy and dropped to her feet immediately. She stepped out of them with little difficulty. She had bikini panties on, red, with just a string around the waist. I was contemplating how to remove it when I noticed the hook on the string. I fingered it and found its secret and released it. She bowed her legs for a moment and the dainty thing drifted down her legs to drape around her high heels.

I touched her pussy, pressing the back of my hand against her. Her lips parted a bit and I felt heat and humidity. Her 'Alabama' state of mind was clear, hot and humid. Southern girls don't mind getting sweaty or hot or humid. I turned my hand and moved close to her as my finger entered her, sinking into her depths. She leaned forward and touched her lips to mine but the kiss remained incomplete as my finger penetrated deeply into her body.

"Cock." She said and her two hands grasped hold of me.

"Bed." I responded. The chatty kathy I had fucked in her kitchen had been replaced by a woman empty of denial, full of lust. She crawled onto the bed, the long motions of a cat that made her body flex and stretch. Her breasts rolled below her, luxurious and large. I guess she used up all her words before. She bent over her own knees and flexed her ass, opening herself to me, her pussy gaping and winking with wet invitation. Then it occurred to me I had tasted her but she claimed she did not know that. I grasped one ankle and yanked. The inference interrupted her grinding pose and disturbed her balance. She rolled to her side and I pulled her to the edge of the bed. She squeaked and squawked till she noticed me kneeing between her knees, pulling her knees apart. She became quiet, still.