Extending the MILF List Ch. 17

They ignored me.

"I have to, Marjorie. This, this is how I keep away from Gary. I don't love him, not like you do but god, I want him. I need him. I have to have him if I can and this is how I quit. I didn't want to do this to you, or him for that matter, so Sonny is my solution. He owns me, pussy and tits and if he wants to have sex with me right now, then I'm going to do it."

"I do. Take off your shirt." I said, feeling the general flow of things...and liking it.

Holly shrugged off her coat in a flash and had pulled her sweater up to just under her tits when Marjorie barked at us.

"No! Stop it. I won't stand for this." She said. "Don't do this, Holly, please. If you do, John will never forgive you."

"Forgive me?" Holly spoke with the highest form of umbrage in the book. "How can you...."

"But he could forgive her having sex with his younger brother? I'm not sure you are making much sense, Mrs. Romelingame." I almost cackled out loud because they both responded as though I was talking to them, noticed each other and then got confused. The confusion drew the truth out of Marjorie Romelingame.

"I guess I mean that if you have sex with this man, I'd have to tell John, as part of his family, as Gary's wife. I couldn't turn my back on that, or let it occur behind his back like that."

That made a sort of sense and suddenly I felt the mountain on my back and by god, there was Mohammad, just in time, before it broke me in two.

"But telling John about Gary and Holly is easier because its your husband and you can't shit in your own nest like that, is that it?"

Marjorie looked at me like, well, like I'd just said what I was about to say. I chuckled and she got red underneath her rouge.

"Well, maybe we should work out a trade."

" A trade?" Both women said at once, then looked at each other.

"Yeah, a trade. You don't want Holly to fuck me, you fuck me instead. I give you the collar and chain and you take her home to Gary. He thinks you're the greatest woman alive and he fucks you both whenever he wants. You have to keep quiet about it and hide it all from Holly's husband." I shrugged. "Seems that easy to me, but you end up on my call list for volunteer pussy."

I had sense enough to stop talking and let the meaning steep in the smoldering atmosphere. I was thinking, honestly, of Laura Wills riding Tia Maria's talented tongue and what I was planning for the Wills family, so I didn't have any real investment in what happened next.

Both women stared at me, for several moments. Holly spoke first.

"Jesus, Sonny, you are almost making sense. That shocks me a little."

That irritated me a little but I kept it to myself. I think I make good sense, most of the time anyway, when I know what I'm doing...oh, there it is, I get it. Rats, I was about to get all puffed up with pride.

"What sense is he making, Holly."

"Tell her, Sonny." Holly said.

The bitch. Like I knew what I was doing...man, that bothers the shit out of me when that happens. I bucked up and quit being bothered long enough to focus on the present situation. Suddenly, like a ray of sunshine shining out my ass, I saw things clearly.

"A trade. You fuck me, when I want you and you give Holly to Gary. Holly gets what she wants. Gary gets both of you. I get a bundle of strange, that's you Marjorie, and you have every reason to not tell John anything at all. Everybody's happy."

"But that means...!" Marjorie couldn't manage to say it out loud. Holly had no such compunction.

"It means you have sex with Sonny." Holly said, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

"Oh, oh gracious."

"It's you or her." I said, as though I had some ironclad claim on the pussy in the room, half of it anyway. Funny how if you act like something is true sometimes everyone takes it for granted that it actually is true! That was the first time I really stared that concept in the first-person pronoun.

The two women looked at each other. Holly, however, said the exact perfect thing.

"You don't have to do this, Marjorie. This thing is mine to handle. I got myself into this, I'll get myself out of it, even though it means I'll have to get him into me, a lot. Sonny has an appetite you wouldn't believe!"

Marjorie looked at me. I saw the transition happen as clearly as if we had an ESPN announcer doing color commentary. Her expression switched from being aghast to appraising in the span of a round dozen seconds. I saw a flicker of hunger in her eyes.

"Gary hasn't touched me in nearly two years. He has felt so guilty about his affair with you, he's been worthless. I cannot believe he thinks I didn't know what was going on. How could I miss it. You two were about as subtle as two hound dogs sniffing each other's butts down at the park."

To this point, the two women had been facing each other. Now, however, Marjorie turned to face me pointing her considerable tits at me and presenting me with her shape and form, her figure for my ground.

"Mr. Duncan...."

"Call me Sonny, please. Since we are discussing having sex, we should at least be on a first name basis, don't you think?" That was my ethic anyway.

"No. I don't think. I am doing this for my family, for my husband and for Holly."

"You're not doing this, Marjorie," Holly began.

"Holly, shut up." I wagged my hand so the chain wiggled the collar around her neck. "You are the sex slave here and if I want to trade you for her, that's my business, not yours." I looked over to Marjorie. "That's what we're talking about, right?"

She hesitated but after a couple rests in her music, she nodded.

"You need to understand how this works, though. Holly agreed to take my collar so long as I did what I said I would. By that, I mean I had to give her plenty of pleasure in my own right. I mean I had to satisfy her. She's a fucking head case so that sounds easier than it is." Holly glared at me. "I am telling you this because you have to agree to give her to Gary. I mean you walk her into your house and hand him her leash and tell him congratulations, she's his. Can you do that?"

"Not dressed like that, I won't." Marjorie said, her eyes flashing some profound fashion conviction I could not ever understand, so I didn't try.

I didn't lose a beat.

"Fine. Holly, strip."

"Excuse me?"

"Strip. Off with your clothes. Put on one of those outfits she picked out. She needs you dressed just so before she presents you to her husband to be fucked, fine. We are in a fucking clothing store."

"And no collar." Marjorie said.

I held up both hands.

"There I draw the line. You don't know what the collar means to Holly. It's the difference between sand paper and satin."

For a moment, Marjorie stared at me without the least glimmer of understanding. Then, like the rising sun, the light gradually came on.

"Oh. Oh. Oh!" She said, her voice rising with each warbling syllable. "Oh my, really, Holly?"

Holly looked like she'd been caught fucking the salad, the cucumber I mean but she caught up and nodded, nicely, almost convincing even me the collar was the key to her nasty chastity. Aware that her hesitation might be fatal if she allowed doubt to take root in the moment, she crossed her arms and peeled the sweat shirt off her tits. They bobbed like two melons in the ocean before she tossed the sweater on the floor. She heeled off the sneakers she wore and shucked down her jeans. She stood before us in bra and panties.

"Which should she try on first?"

Just like that the whole feel of the room shifted. Marjorie fussed and finally selected a body dress. Holly barely fit into it, like a banana fits in a straw. It was so tight I could see the moles on her belly, not the color, oh forget it. It was fucking tight. If she smiled wrong she'd flash the room. The lines of the bra showed distinctly under the silver fabric.

"I think she should lose the bra." I said.

Marjorie, who had helped mold Holly into the thing, stepped back, taking my comment really, really seriously. She put the hand to her chin and the index finger tapped her lips.

"You're right. It just ruins the lines. Sorry, dear, we have to take off the bra."

Holly looked disbelievingly at me. I widened my eyes at her as if to say, focus or keep you eyes on the prize! She got me immediately, turned her back to Marjorie. Marjorie unzipped the dress with some difficulty. I decided to keep fucking with them. I had no idea if I was actually going to get included in the equation and frankly I didn't much care. It was just fun to be fitting the pieces of the puzzle together. I just hoped that The Wills Puzzle would fit together as well.

"With a dress that difficult to get off, you should take off your panties, too. I mean, he'll tear it up getting it off, but if you don't have panties...." I left the rest unstated. It served.

Holly glared at me then remembered what we were doing, like I knew, and wriggled out of everything and then replaced the dress. She stood there in the tight silver dress, the hem would have been blurry with pubic hair if she hadn't shaved recently. Man that dress was short. Marjorie made the point explicitly by pulling the dress up off Holly's nearly straight hips to expose her to the room. She had to pull extra hard to get it to release her fine ass in the back, though. Holly was panting with all the handling before Marjorie stepped back and nodded.

"What do you think?"

"I think you should leave." I returned without hesitation.

The woman looked over at me.

"Oh no, we had a deal."

"Did we? I think I'm trading down for you." Now that was just mean. She didn't respond as though she'd been insulted, she reacted as though she'd been challenged, like a front running mare in a horse race when a late finisher pulls up along side.

She didn't say anything. Marjorie turned to face me. She shrugged off her coat and handed it to Holly. Holly just tossed it onto the floor. Marjorie wore a suit coat cut for a man, with a man's dress shirt and a tie under it. Below, though she wore a pleated, gray pinstripe skirt that curtained her ankles, leaving the impression that she'd outgrown it, that it should have covered her ankles and thus save those lustful souls around her from the perdition that bit of flesh below the hem of her skirt displayed. Her heels were classic black but with nice severe points. Her inner slut was showing when I looked at those high heels, fuck-me shoes for certain.

She waited while I inventoried her clothing. I was about to start guessing about what was under them when she removed the suit jacket. There was something wildly erotic about a woman dressed like that. Her breasts bulged in the shirt and made the jacket hang all caddywompus. When the jacket was gone, it was clear that the buttons were straining and the shirt bulged and gapped around her tits.

I became aware of the silence and lack of motion. I pulled my eyes off my newest acquisition. Marjorie regarded me with pursed lips. She smiled tightly, as if asking "like what you see?" but with the arrogance that she absolutely knew the answer to the question, so she didn't really need to voice it. She was right. I wasn't trading away Holly to get her, though, I was doing it for Holly, to get her on her knees for the man she lusted after. I was clear about that. That Marjorie Romelingame was sexy as hell was a side benefit and one I was going to enjoy if I could.

"Mr. Duncan, may I suggest that you fuck me in my clothes? I have this dream of feeling a man enter me from behind in this skirt. I mean really, this very skirt. I like the feeling of it raised off my legs so he can get to me, get in me." She swallowed then, the action making her neck ripple.

If I hadn't had Meesa and Stephanie all over me, I'd have invited her to swallow something else, somewhat more substantial than her own reluctance. As it was, I thought it would be rude and since I had this knee jerk inclination to hitch any woman I fuck to my star so I can orbit back around and penetrate her air space again, even if it is unlikely or impossible, I still like to act like we are establishing a long term arrangement, like I'm laminating a menu. I have a Zen mind about it though, so if it comes and then disappears, I don't get jerked around because I am trying to hang onto the reins. I like to just let go of what's leaving and hang onto to what is right in front of me.

"Unbutton the shirt. Leave the tie." I rasped.

When Marjorie smiled, it was like this whole thing was her idea and she had me right where she wanted me. Maybe she did. I had a curious moment, considering that I was a bit player in someone else's scene but figured if one of my entrances meant entering her, then by god I didn't much care who the director was. The feeling passed. This was all serendipity.

She unbuttoned the three middle buttons most taxed by the swell of her breasts. The shirt flared open, exposing her bra and cleavage. The thin electric blue tie dangled into the gap like a bell rope in a bell tower. She did something that surprised me then. She reached into the gap and unhooked the bra. It was one of those frontloaded things. Her breasts shouldered the bra cups out of the way and peeked around them at me, all demure and shit. Seeing them coddled in the shirt like that, with the line of the tie dangling between them was so erotic. And the woman knew it was. When my eyes finally quit trying to convert the moment into a color by numbers picture I'd have forever in the spank bank and I met her gaze, she smiled sweetly at me.

With that look, defiantly sexual, on her face, she turned around, bunched her skirt into her hands, exposing her legs a little at a time until it was congregated around her waist so she could pull her granny panties down her legs and off. She held them by a finger and thumb out before her and let them drop. Without another word, she turned to the corner in the room and placed both hands on its sharp angle and bent her back. It bent until it was nearly bowed to a right angle, her shoulder blades were nearly vertical and her hips were nearly horizontal. My god, the woman was limber.

She'd let the gray pleated skirt drop over her hips and down her legs, so now she stood bent but covered, her open shirt no longer in view. She twisted her head around and in a very, very husky voice, she muttered, "Fuck me."

It was like a dare. I didn't get all bent out of shape. Dare me to fuck you and you'll get fucked. After the MILF list and sundry appendices, I had lost all doubt that I could meet a "fuck me" challenge with the necessary response and I don't mean merely a penetrating gaze!

I moved behind her. Holly, the vamp, moved over to the opposite wall and leaned against it, her hands behind her ass. She bent one knee and put her foot against the wall, in the classic, "Hey, look at me" pose. I tore my eyes off of her and focused on the prepped woman posed before me. My cock had roused and was hardening nicely. I got confused though. I reached out and touched this new, strange woman first, laying my hands on her hips. I felt them, her waist a distinct line from which her ass and hips flared, the skirt stretched tight over them. I used my hands to draw up the curtain of her skirt, exposing her bare legs.

I bunched and bunched and bunched the skirt until her ass appeared. Only then did I realize I hadn't bothered to unlimber my cock. It was still stored in the housing of civilization. I had to drop the skirt and in that moment, my cock snapped into flow blown erection. I unbuckled my belt and opened my pants, suddenly in a big fucking rush. I pushed them down with the briefs to my knees. Rather than go through the incremental process of bunching her skirt at her waist again, I bent over and lifted it with one hand till I could place the other hand on the skin of her leg. My face bumped against her ass when I did that.

I straightened, running my hand up the curve of her calf to the knee and onto the full swell of her thigh. Marjorie hissed between her teeth, inhaling as my hand smoothed along the uncovered skin. Her skin was dry but smooth, warm to the touch and supple, the way mixed paint looks in the can. I flipped the drape on the other side up and got my left hand under it, on her knee. Together I moved the skirt higher until both hands clasped her ass. The woman was panting by now. I cornered over the arch of her ass onto the small of her back. The skirt ruffled there. I pushed it against her bent back but it refused to remain in place. I held it with one hand.

Marjorie was panting by now. When I reached between her thighs, she groaned softly. I ran my hand up between her legs. She grunted and her body shifted, opening her legs by rocking onto one leg and moving the opposite foot wider. The side of my hand felt the heat and then the rippled softness of her pussy. It parted around my hand. I curled my fingers, twisting my hand to cup her pussy in my hand. Marjorie shuddered. I fingered her, stroking up and down through the many folds of her pussy until I found the opening to body. I followed the heat inside until I encountered the first bubble of fluid emerging from her excitement.

"Oh god, take me!" Marjorie mumbled. Her voice tensed around the syllables, thrumming with an unmistakable need.

I took my cock in hand and followed the Lewis and Clark road through the wilderness right to the promised land. My cock slid between her thighs and then I directed it up and into her. She hitched her hips once when I touched her pussy with the head of my cock. We two adjusted together and I found her and she met me with open...not arms exactly but her pussy flared around the head and accepted it inside, ushered in by her formal invitation, a slight lean back against me that precipitated a more perfect union, that is a perfect penetration. In her, I took a moment to feel the mature folds of her educated pussy. It roiled around me and then she grunted and her hips popped back at me, pressing her onto my cock. I left him to his own devices, seized her by the hips and rammed into her.

Marjorie grunted as I thrust into her body. I came to a halt at half periscope depth, pulled back and shoved harder and further. I sunk into her body until I felt the arch of her ass kissing me, twin pursed points of pleasure that expanded like the first light of dawn ripping away the dark of night to expose the coming day. Marjorie was the one coming though.

Either she was quick draw McDraw or she'd been adequately teased into the right state of mind, because just as I nestled against her ass, pulling her against me, her whole body bucked. I pulled back and rammed into her, harder and deeper. Her ass crumpled against me as I penetrated her. I repeated it. She gasped, flexing her hips and bobbing them back and forth. I followed her lead, pulling out of her body and thrusting into her, then again and again until I reached some perfect harmony of motion, thrusting steadily into her over and over again. She held to the corner, using it to push back, to shift her hips back and forth to meet my pistoning plunges into her body. Over and over I thrust into her until I felt the sirens going off. The storm was coming, that is to say, I was about to.

I am the storm and the storm was coming.

I think Marjorie heard it in my breathing, the little catch and groan that is half regret and half "what the fuck took you so long?" I ground into her and it struck, the white light flashing that blanked my mind and left me gasping and grunting as I pumped cum into the limber woman. She grunted and her hips retreated away from me then popped back. If I hadn't been buried inside her, she'd have popped me off onto the floor. I groaned. The orgasm swelled in me and overflowed. I gripped her hips hard, we slapped together and then it was just our two voices grumbling with the paradoxes of "finally" and "not yet".