Gloria's Daughter Ch. 03

"It's in the wrong hole. You need it in your ass."

Her eyes shot wide. "Oh my god, no."

"Yeah, you need to be buttfucked hard until you scream." Quick as I could, I pulled out and wrestled her over onto her stomach.

"No, really, no, stop ..." She twisted and writhed, but my weight had her pinned in place, and I ground the sloppily lubed bar of my cock between her ass-cheeks. "Dennis, no -"

I worked a hand between us, repositioned my dick, found the dimpled entrance to her bottom with its tip.

"Oh yeah, this is gonna be good. Get ready for it, baby."

"No, Dennis - SCORN!"

I was off her in a heartbeat, electric relief shooting from my chest out through my arms.

"Oh, thank god, Kaylee, I thought I was going to have to stop and remind you."

She froze, having scrambled halfway off the bed, her breathing wild and eyes wilder. As my words sunk in, the panic subsided to mere anxiety.

"You ..."

"Are you okay? I could tell you were at least a little scared but I didn't know how much of it might be an act, and I didn't know whether you remembered about the safe word."

Searching my face - which I hoped looked as concerned as I felt - she untensed, at least slightly. "If I hadn't said it, you wouldn't have ..."

"God, no," I said, looking down at my dick, which had shriveled completely by this point. "I was already losing my hard-on when I pulled out of your pussy. It wouldn't have gone in even if I'd tried. Which I promise you, I was never going to do."

She put her face in her hands, shuddering. "Oh my god."

"Would it help if I came over and held you?"

Instead of answering, she rushed up and into my arms, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Dennis, I was so scared."

"I'm sorry, baby." I stroked her hair and rocked us back and forth. "I'm sorry."

"What if - what if one of them does something and I say the word and he doesn't stop?"

"They all stop, Kaylee." I'm not sure I sounded or felt very convinced of that, but I went on anyway. "Gloria's only told me about one time where she even had to say her word more than once."

"But what if they don't?"

"Do you know how to shoot a gun? I'll show you where your mom's got one and a can of mace."

She pulled back and looked at me, bright blue eyes finding something in my face that they hadn't seen there before. "Jesus. You really wanted me to know what I was getting into, didn't you."

I nodded and brushed a strand of red hair from her cheek, where tears had stuck it to the skin. "Yeah. I've never been that ugly with your mom, no matter what we were role-playing. But I know she has some clients who get off on being shitty."

"Whoosh." Her breathing had calmed down. She looked drained and exhausted now, but no longer petrified. "I guess that's a good thing. After Nice Dennis - and even Demanding Dennis - I was thinking, 'What the hell am I going to school for? Mom was right, this is really a pretty good job.'"

I kissed her forehead. "Well, I knew it was crappy of me to be Dick Dennis with you. But I thought it would be even crappier to give you the wrong impression about what things were really going to be like."

A muddled, half-grateful look came over her, but she didn't talk. Instead, she just nestled her face back in against my shoulder. I held her for a while in silence.

"So," I said, when I thought enough time had passed. "Now that you have the whole picture, do you know what you're going to do? Do you really want to go through with it?"

"Well," she said, "I don't quite have the whole picture, do I?"

"What do you mean?"

Shifting to look at me, she raised one hand and rubbed the fingers together. "I still don't know what it's like to get paid."

I smirked. "That part usually happens when I'm dressed and ready to leave. Give me a second to get my clothes on."

But as I started to move away, she grabbed my arm. "I don't think that's going to work."

"What do you mean?" Her grip on my bicep, her tone, and the look on her face all seemed like they should be telling me something, but I didn't get it.

"I mean, you're not Nice Dennis or Demanding Dennis or Dick Dennis anymore. You're not Client Dennis at all. You're Denny, my mom's friend who brought us Thanksgiving dinner, who for some reason really cares about what happens to me even though I've only ever been crappy to him. All it's going to feel like taking your money is that I finally understand you're a really good guy."

That warmed something up inside me, but I could tell she meant more by it than just an expression of gratitude. "Okay, well, I guess I screwed up the payment part. I don't know what to do about that, though."

She looked at me like I was stupid, which actually felt more comfortable and familiar than the soft, appreciative look she'd had a moment before.

"You don't? I thought it was pretty obvious you have to fuck me again," she said. "As Nice Dennis or Demanding Dennis though. I don't need any more Dick Dennis lessons."

"You're serious."

Glancing at the clock, she said, "We're still way under three hours, and I need to hold some whore money in my hands. I can't know for sure what I'm going to do without that."

"Wow." I should have guilty, that it would be wrong to take advantage of what she was asking. But what I felt instead was my cock starting to stand back up. "Then ... Nice Dennis or Demanding Dennis?"

"Demanding Dennis, I think," she said. "There can't be all that many Nices on Mom's client list, and I bet none at all as nice as you. Demanding Dennis is probably better practice."

That's a really good point.

"Right, then. Uh, is there anything else you want to say before I go back into, uh, client mode?"

"Yeah." She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. "I'm really glad my mom knows you."

I flushed, blood surging in both my face and my groin. "Thanks. That's really sweet of you."

"You're welcome. And now Sweet Kaylee is signing things over to Slut Kaylee. What does Demanding Dennis want Slut Kaylee to do?"

"Nothing," I said. "Demanding Dennis says your name is Brandy for the rest of tonight. And Demanding Dennis wants you to go wash that other guy's cum off your chest and then come back and ride him cowgirl style while he gropes that fantastic rack of yours. Incidentally, Brandy is pretty surly and resentful about having to fuck Demanding Dennis. She feels like he's taking terrible advantage of her. But she always comes anyway."

"Sure," she said, reaching in to pat my erection. "I'll be right back."

While I lay on my back and the tap ran in the powder room, I wondered what Gloria might be thinking about this, right now, in her hospital room. Assuming she's not knocked out from the pain meds. I couldn't figure it out for sure, but apparently my cock was convinced she wouldn't be thinking anything bad, because it stayed pointed straight up the whole time Kaylee was in the bathroom.

After a few minutes, she returned, breasts pink and dry from a fresh scrubbing. I ordered her to put the condom on me, and then she crawled onto the bed and into place atop me.

"God, Brandy," I told her. "Your body is so fine."

"Yeah, sure. Let's just get this over with."

She angled herself, then slid down onto me and began to grind.

"Oh, yeah. Fuck me like that, baby."

"I'm fucking," she grumbled. "Doesn't it feel like I'm fucking?"

Her cunt drooled so wetly along my shaft that I felt the fluid running past the condom and into my pubic hair.

"It sure does. Push your tits out for me."

She arched her back, lifting and emphasizing her amazing breasts. I put my hands up to them, clutched and rolled them around, marveled at their richness, fullness, softness. The slide and stroke of her crotch against mine, her vagina around the tower of my dick, matched the rhythm of my kneading as she stared coolly down at me.

"You look like you want to bitch at me about something," I said, stifling a groan as she hit a particularly good downstroke.

She folded her lips in as if to wet them before speaking. "I just always wonder why a dirty old fuck like you thinks it's okay to make a nice college coed whore herself to him."

"Ha," I said, then, "Oh, yeah, keep doing that. Mm-hmm. Why? Because I can, sweetheart. Because a dirty old fuck like me is never going to get a nice college coed to be his girlfriend, so I might as well settle for the next best thing."

For a second, something soft in her face looked like she might argue with me about whether a nice college coed would want to be my girlfriend. Then she hardened up her features and said, "Damn right. In fact, I don't know how a dirty old fuck like you could get any girlfriend at all. The best thing that's ever going to happen to you is if you get to be with a really nice whore."

I couldn't help smiling at that, even though it pushed me totally out of character. Kaylee sped up her motions, screwing me with delicious, quick rolls of her hips.

"You like that idea, huh? Some really sweet, smart, funny whore who'll get you off and act like you're some kind of gentleman and make you wish you really deserved her. Well, dream on, you nasty prick. *Nff* ... ohh ... but - but if you ever find her, all I can say is, if you find her, gnhh - shit - you damn well better treat her better than you treat me."

She gave up the act then and just fucked me, face squeezed tight in the heat of sexual frenzy. "Fuck ... oh, fuck, Dennis ..."

"Yeah, Brandy. That's it ... ooh, that's it ... who's a good girl? Who ... ahhh - who needs some cum up her snatch?"

"Uhhh, god. Uhh, god, I'm coming ..."

"Shit, me too, Brandy - do it, girl, do it -"

"AH-AHAH - AHHH!" She curved backward, making an almost perfect semicircle from her throat down her chest and along her belly. "YE-EHSSS ..."

A squeezing pulse of orgasm tremored through her cunt, pushing me over the edge. I cried out her name - her real name, Kaylee - unable to help it as joy ricocheted through my body to burst loose as a fountain of bliss inside her. Up and up I shot my ecstatic wonder, burning through my entire form as this gorgeous young woman rode me to a peak of love - love for her, love for her mother, a crazy tangle of love and sex that shivered through me and tried its best to fill her from belly to braincase.

Then, done, she fell down onto me, trembling, and I wrapped my arms around her and held her. She didn't pull away until the chime sounded, by which time she'd recovered enough to get back in character.

"Okay, time's up, prick," she said, rolling away so that my condom-covered dick flopped out onto my belly. "Get up and get dressed and give me my damn fuck money."

I groaned and rose from the bed, slowly, every inch of me fighting the need to leave that place of pure, warm comfort behind. It took most of the time I spent dressing to get my head together and work at playing my part right.

"Sheezus," I breathed, tugging out my wallet once I had everything on. "You really wore me out, you little hussy. For such a prissy tight-ass, you sure can fuck."

"You should kick in some extra, then," she sneered. "Except we both know you're too cheap to do that."

"You'd only waste it on some college learning, darling. Why would I encourage you to go and do that when you're so good at blowing and boning? Here. Four-fifty. While you're spending it, think about all the fucking it's going to get me over the next month."

I slapped the money into her hand, then watched as she unfolded and slowly counted it.

"Holy shit," she breathed.

"That's right, honey. You earned it all. Your momma would be proud."

She looked up at me then, and a brief moment of tension held us both suspended. Not being in her head, I couldn't tell for sure what went on with her during that moment, but for me, it was a fight against an overwhelming desire to grab her up in a hug and not let her go all night.

Then the moment passed, and she snarked, "My momma will be proud. And don't think I'm not going to tell her all about it. Now there's the door."

I got my feet in motion, unlatched and opened the door. Then, with one shoe in and one shoe out, I turned back and mimed a tip of a hat to her.

She rolled her eyes and waved me away, and I shut the door behind me.

* * *

I was at the hospital by quarter of nine the next morning, waiting for visiting hours to start. When the floor's receiving nurse let me in, I went straight to Gloria's room with a moderately giant arrangement of flowers. She laughed when she saw them.

"Oh, those are perfect, Denny," she said. Her voice and her laugh both sounded tired, but whole. "Not too small to make a girl feel better, but not so big that she starts to wonder if you're trying to make up for an indiscretion."

I cleared my throat and brought the flowers in, finding a spot on the bedside table to set them.

"You look good," I said, which was completely untrue in the sense that her eyes still had sickly dark bruise rings around them and the cuts and bandages and disarrayed hair remained as they'd been the day before. But it was also completely true in my heart. And it made her laugh again, which meant it was the right thing to say.

"You look good too," she replied. "If I wasn't so doped up on pain pills, I'd make you get in this bed and fuck me, cast and all."

I glanced over at the door, then stepped close and leaned down where I could say, without fear of being overheard, "Well it's good you're on the pills, then, because I didn't bring any condoms. Kaylee and I used protection, but the rules still say I'm out of the no-condom club for a couple months, right?"

That made her laugh even harder, until her eyes rolled up and one hand went to her ribs. "Oh, ow, ow. Haha ..."

"Are you okay? I guess I'm even funnier than I thought."

She slumped in the bed, hand still on her ribcage. But the smile stayed on her face. "Oh, Denny. You don't seriously believe there was ever a no-condom club, do you?"

My face went red, and I just scratched behind my head.

"So tell me how it was," she said. "And you should pull up a chair, because I want details."

"Really?"

"How else am I going to know if you got her ready?" She pointed to a chair in the corner. "Besides, I'm pretty much the nosiest mother in the world."

Dragging the seat over, I sat down and tried to think how to start.

"Well, uh ..."

"Don't think about it so much," she said. "First off, was it good?"

I met her eyes. They said she genuinely wanted to know.

"Parts of it were incredible," I said honestly. "And parts of it were absolutely awful."

"Give me the awful parts first, so I know how worried I need to be about her."

With a deep breath, I told her about moving from Nice Dennis to Demanding Dennis to Dick Dennis, giving her a full description of the last of those and how terrible it had been to treat Kaylee the way Dick Dennis had. She nodded grimly through most of it, but when I was done, she looked relieved.

"That was perfect," she said, reaching a hand out, palm up, toward me. I took it and held it and she went on, "Don't feel bad about it - that's exactly what she needed you to do."

I shrugged, a little less guilt-crushed, but not feeling entirely absolved. "Sure, but I can't help feeling bad. I was -"

"No, you weren't," she said. "You were careful and deliberate and concerned. Forcing yourself to do unpleasant things doesn't make you unpleasant, Denny. It just shows what you're willing to go through for other people. If you'd spent the whole time being Nice Dennis to her, that's something you'd need to feel bad about."

"I guess."

She patted and squeezed my hand. "So did Dick Dennis scare her off?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "She texted me while I was on the way home, asking if I would come today and listen from inside the house so that she'd feel safer for her first couple of appointments. I told her I'd be there by eleven."

After a slow nod, she looked away for a moment.

"Is that okay?"

A humorless laugh whiffed out through her nose. "I think that's the most complicated question you've ever asked me."

"How so?"

Her eyes settled blue and deep on mine. "Well, it's good-news/bad-news/crazy-news/mind-numbing-news, isn't it? My daughter is about to do something that I would never, ever, ever want her to do. Because it's going to permanently change the whole way she looks at life. What kind of mother would be glad about that? But I am glad, because if she didn't I'm pretty sure we'd end up out on the street."

"No," I said. "Not on the street. But it might get pretty uncomfortable if I had to put both of you up in my apartment for any length of time."

"You're so sweet. Anyway, I'm just ... I'm full of relief that she's going to do it, that maybe she can keep us afloat until I'm back on my feet, that I won't have screwed up her whole college career getting myself t-boned by some drunk idiot. But then I think about Marty Harris, and how in ..." She glanced over at the clock. "...three hours, he's going to be on top of my little girl. And then I think about you, how you're going to be there to protect her, to help her, how you showed her ..."

Tears started from her eyes, and her throat choked off whatever else she might have meant to say. I stood up and leaned over and took hold of her as gently as I could.

"Oh, Denny," she gasped, "thank you so much."

She held tight to me for a while, then, until her body stopped shaking and her sniffles had quieted down.

When she let go, I smoothed her hair and kissed the unbruised side of her forehead.

"Don't worry," I said. "In the end it's all going to be good news. Okay?"

Her eyes searched mine, and whatever they found put some of the humor back in her face. "Not all of it," she said. "There's one more piece of bad news."

"Oh? What?"

"You're off my client list, Denny."

I waited, trying not to hope that she meant what I wanted her to mean by that.

"Sunday night hurt," she said, knocking on the hard surface of her cast beneath the sheet, then running her fingers up and across her ribs. They didn't stop there, though. They kept moving up, to the center of her chest, where she pressed her hand flat staring at me. "And this is where it hurt worst. I was lying there, screaming from the pain, sure I was going to die, just kicking myself over and over again. Because whenever I blinked away the stars and had a second that wasn't agony, all I could think was, 'Oh no, Denny. He's never going to hear me say it. He's never going to get to be with me as me. I'm going to die, and all I ever gave him was the whore part of myself.'"

As always, I couldn't help scowling when she said that word. "That's not all you ever gave me."

"Of course it isn't, sweetie," she said, reaching up to my cheek. "I didn't say I was rational when I was thinking that. But it's the most awful I've ever felt, and I'm not ever going to let myself feel that way again."

"So you could handle ... us being together? And still do what you do?"

"Good god," she laughed. "If you can handle it, I sure don't have any excuse for not being able to."

"But you said before - I mean, you didn't actually say, but you implied ..."

"Yeah. I was scared." She looked like the admission lifted something off her. "You've been hurt, Denny, and I've been hurt. But bleeding there in that mangled mess of my car, with glass in my head and maybe a chance I wasn't ever going to see you again, I realized there's way worse ways of being hurt. And missing out on you is definitely a worse hurt than whatever's going to happen if I let you in."