It Happened One Night Ch. 06

"What?"

"Not what. Why. What can you do for me that another woman couldn't?"

Torrie looked at me as if I had just pried open her mouth and spit into it. Her lips pursed.

"Are you really telling me that you're not interested?"

"I'm telling you that you'd better want me more than I want you. I'd be just as content going home and sleeping for a week."

She took the hand I'd just plucked from her pussy. She worked her long tongue over it, polishing my hand with her wet pink chamois. Steam rose off of my wet hand as the hot spit and female spend contacted the car's crisp atmosphere. "I can do many things for you," she whispered.

"My dog licks my hand, too. Show me something interesting," I challenged. I wanted to anger her into dropping her prissy veneer of civility and to show me her true face. I expected her to be an older version of her daughter; haughty, pretentious and phony. Instead, she looked at me with pity. That wouldn't last long. Torrie was as genuine as the paste jewellery Chandler the Younger liked to wear. She had to be.

"Something definitely has changed within you," she whispered. "You aren't the same Gilligan as last year."

"Milligan," I corrected.

"I know," she replied. "But Gilligan fits better. At least it did before."

This woman was as slick as her Jaguar. I had to rattle her confidence a bit. I took a guess at one of the controls and was rewarded by the gentle hum of the sunroof motor working. The retracting glass shield let the cool night air enter the vehicle.

"It's too cold for that, Adam."

"You'll warm up soon." My hand crept over her, gliding over her fleshy upper thighs, her slightly protruding stomach, and her fat, heavy tits. I caressed each one with soft swirls of the fingertips. My touch and the cold had the desired effect upon her. Her nipples stiffened under my touch, becoming as hard as the colour of her sapphire eyes.

I slid the spaghetti straps of her dress off of her shoulders. Her skin felt soft, yet no longer flawless. Freckles like age spots flecked her skin. Deep, parallel crevices stretched across her. I moved the hand down over the tops of her breasts, amazed at how much softer the skin felt here. I really enjoyed the feel of her mature body. Evidently aged human skin, like worn silk, felt more luxurious than new.

My hand snapped down, pulling the front of her dress to her waist. My hand struck the valley between her thighs hard. She jumped in surprise. The sudden motion jiggled her freed breasts. The big, pale tits with cherry red nipples and only the smallest hint of areolas reminded me of eyes with too much pupil and not enough iris. The cold and my scrutiny produced gooseflesh across her trembling body.

Her self-control impressed me. She had jumped a bit, startled by my sudden actions, but she hadn't moved her hands to cover her tits. This one either had steel nerves or had undergone training. Either was good, but the latter explanation made my cock stiffen.

Training. Like I'd know it to see it. Being an avid viewer of hardcore bondage pornography didn't make me a Master any more than watching golf all day qualified me for the Masters. Still, I felt that I recognized the submissiveness of this woman. Something in her reminded me of a part of me that I hated, but an aspect I could exploit in another.

"Keep your hands at your waist, Victoria. Sit like your mother taught you a lady should." The dignified way she repositioned herself made my head spin. A queen sat next to me. One with her stiffening nipples bared, mind you, but no less regal for all of that. Nothing touched her, not my words, not the cold, and not the bizarre situation. She was an element onto herself, totally inert, immutable even when exposed to other highly reactive agents.

Or so I thought until the feminine, musky scent of her intensified enough to make my nose twitch. A quick dip between her legs confirmed what my nose had already told me. Torrie was torrid for me.

For me, or for the me I pretended to be this evening? Either way, I liked the results.

"I'm cold," she said.

"Uncomfortably cold, or bitterly cold?"

"Uncomfortable, I'd say."

"Then deal with it."

I started the engine, expecting a loud rumbling from a car this size. I could barely hear the motor. I could certainly feel it, though. As power endued the grey metal beast with vigour some of it dispersed through my body as well. Energy must've been transferred by osmosis from the fine, soft kidskin seat leather to my polyester-slacked self.

Torrie closed her eyes and snuggled into the car seat. Her deep, even breaths made her tits heave in a most delightful way.

Loud rapping on my side window pulled my eyes over to the enraged face of my boss. It could shatter glass. I decided to protect Torrie's automotive investment and lowered the heavily tinted window.

"What the fuck are you two doing?" she screeched. I never realized how purple a face could get. I decided not to get angry in return. Theresa looked ludicrous and I refused to have her mother see me acting the same way. I responded to Chandler's hostility with civility, Torrie-style.

"Warming up the car a bit."

"Don't fuck around! Mom, get dressed and come here!"

Torrie made no move to do so. Indeed, she didn't move at all. She sat there with her dress down to her waist and those magnificent breasts bare. She showed no indication of having heard her daughter.

"I think her silence means 'Fuck you,' I said, flicking the switch that raised the window. The impenetrable pane of dark glass sliced off Theresa's curses. Defeated, she slunk back to her overpriced condo.

"You did wonderfully," Torrie said. "I'll have to give you credit for that."

"How so?"

"You stood up to my daughter and kept your composure."

No big thing. I always stood up to Theresa. I was a rock. Usually as silent as one, too.

I believed in not antagonizing those who had power over you. I didn't tell Torrie that. I felt quite content basking in her praise. I looked for and eventually found the A/C controls. I turned on the heat. Within seconds, a toasty warm zephyr bathed my reclining beauty in pleasantly scorching air. The heater pumped out warmth much more efficiently than my apartment radiator.

"Thank you," she whispered sweetly. She rolled her shoulders in wide, lazy arcs, sinuously stretching herself out while keeping her hands primly in her lap.

"Her bossiness burns my ass," I fumed.

"She has to be bossy, Adam. She's your boss."

"Then make her bossy, not bitchy."

"Call her candlestick. She's always hated that."

"Candlestick?" I didn't follow. I told Torrie that. Her gentle laugh, mocking yet sincere, embarrassed me.

"A Chandler is a seller of candles, soaps and oils, Adam. Go far enough back in any blue blood's lineage and you'll find a time when it ran red in their veins. People are always ashamed of something in their background. In Theresa's particular case, she had a candlestick's figure."

That I flat-out refused to believe. Theresa's tits rivalled her mom's for size and roundness. Torrie must've felt my disbelief for she laughed aloud again. "Trust me on this, hon. Theresa got her tits from her father, not me."

"No way," I said. "She's so stacked!"

"As natural as the Panama Canal," Torrie revealed. She got a boob-job done years ago. The stupid girl had to eat cup ramen for over a year to pay for it, too. From what she tells me, they paid for themselves within two months."

"Bullshit!"

"It's true. Theresa wasn't always perfect." Only Torrie's playful eyes betrayed her mock seriousness. She had managed to keep her tone convincingly businesslike. I bent down to her closest nipple and sucked it into my mouth. Torrie didn't move, though I felt her relaxed body suddenly tense up. Her restraint indeed was practised. Awesome. I had no more doubts left. I intended to take Torrie home and fuck her silly.

"You like to give head?"

"Of course," she replied.

"Do you swallow?"

"If I must."

"But you don't like to," I pressed.

"Do you wish me to?"

"Yes."

"Then I like to swallow," she said with a grin. "Just don't eat any liver for dinner, okay?"

I shook my head. Torrie certainly redefined Class. I loved her version of it.

"Do you want me to suck you off now?"

Hell, yes! But I caught the note of urgency in her voice. I told her she'd have to wait until she got to my place before she tasted my cock. Her petulant moue looked adorable. For a second, she looked six and not fifty-something. Instead I kissed her, letting my stiff tongue give her a preview of what her other two major holes could expect from another hard part of my anatomy. I refused to break the kiss until she forced me back. Her long, curled eyelids fluttered as she struggled for breath. I felt proud to see her once-perfect lipstick all smudged.

"Let's go," she growled.

The loud, insistent chirping of the car phone destroyed the moment. Torrie and I stared at the offending device that snuggled contentedly in the walnut cradle between us, oblivious to its disastrous effect upon the mood inside the car. Torrie looked at me, clearly unsure as to what to do.

For a change, I knew what had to be done and felt annoyed enough to do it.

"Yeah?" I answered.

"Come back here, mom." Theresa suddenly fell silent. I listened to her raspy, irregular breathing while she gathered her breath, her composure, and her wits. "Adam? Why did you pick up?"

"Does it matter?"

"Fuck yes! Put mom on the phone!"

I spent a very unpleasant five minutes listening to Theresa. I lost my good humour when she threatened to have a couple of bikers break into my apartment one evening and widen my asshole with the business end of a baseball bat. The only way to avoid calamity would be to return Torrie to the condo.

Right.

"Who is it?" Torrie asked. She looked eager to continue with our little play session.

"Theresa," I replied.

"What does she want?"

I outlined the situation, couching the vileness of Theresa's threats in civil language. I shouldn't have bothered. Torrie understood everything. "What do you intend to do?" she said. The look of disappointment in her eyes angered me. She'd already decided that I'd given in to her bullying daughter. I guess Torrie had no faith in me. But why should she? When it came right down to it I had little faith in myself. Why should a stranger give me more credit than I did?

I had to sound confident. In control. Yeah, that's how I had to be.

"Dunno," I whispered, replying to Torrie's question.

"What the fuck do you mean 'Don't know?' Are you stupid?" I guess I was, seeing how I had totally forgotten that I had a phone to my ear and I had been speaking into it. Theresa let me know exactly what she thought about sick fuckers like me who stalked little old ladies. She saw no difference between me and some twisted bastard who sexually abused terminally ill geriatric patients in their palliative care wards. She let me know exactly what she'd do with a shotgun and a clear shot at my head.

I lost track of her latest dose of vitriol just then, for Torrie had taken matters into hand. She unbuckled my slacks, pulling out my cock with the ease only long practice gives. My cock hardened in her palms. A bead of precome appeared at the tip of my cock, the shining, pearly drop balancing in the slit of the crown. Torrie licked her lips in anticipation of tasting it.

I unceremoniously hung up on Theresa by dropping the phone into its cradle. Chox was history. The megabitch couldn't bully me anymore. I could always find work elsewhere. I'd never get another shot at fucking such a prime example of aged womanhood again. I had to grab it before I lost the opportunity.

I fumbled at Torrie's seat belt, trying desperately to free her from its restrictive clutches. My clumsy fingers refused to cooperate. They scrabbled futilely against the release mechanism. Torrie had to undo it herself.

"Calm down, hon. I'm not going anywhere," she whispered. Of course she wasn't. We sat in her Jag. Where could she go? Furthermore, she seemed to enjoy being with me. My only concern should be with keeping her satisfied.

Freed of her straps, absolutely nothing kept Torrie away from me. I reached for her, grasping her by the grey, lavender scented braid. I buried my face in a pile of it. Torrie looked at me with a bemused expression.

"A hair fetish, lover?"

"Not until today," I said. I wrapped two coils of her hair around her neck, turning the braid into a makeshift leash. I used it to pull her over to me. She collapsed upon me, face by my crotch. Her body twisted uncomfortably to accomplish the maneuver. I toyed with the idea of opening the passenger door to give her some room to stretch out, but I quickly discarded it. I wanted the awkwardness and discomfort to be a part of the experience. If she wanted my cock she'd have to work for it.

I didn't even have time to suggest what to do next. Torrie swallowed me whole, choking me down in one gulp. Her eyes grinned at me as she worked my cock into her tight throat. Her innocent eyes pointedly ignored the wickedness of her mouth as she ate me.

She coughed up enough moisture to end a drought. Sticky saliva frothed around my balls as she worked her hand up-and-down upon my rigid shaft. I'd never experienced such wet head before. She slurped up her spit but always deposited even more sticky froth upon me. Her powerful lunges easily and repeatedly filled her throat with my meat. She swallowed me right to the balls. I loved the way her chin nuzzled against my nuts. Every time she shook her head, her chin knocked them around.

Torrie had complete control of me. I leaned back against the inside of the car door. One hand held her hair leash. The other gripped the top of her head and forced her mouth down upon me. Torrie needed no encouragement to swallow. She was more than willing to take me all the way in without any urging on my part. The muscles of her throat kneaded my cock better than any handjob I'd ever received. Like a child riding her bicycle with no hands, Torrie had practiced this trick often enough to pull it off without the need for manual intervention. I didn't know how much longer I could last.

My eyes lost focus. All I could see were her sparkling blue eyes and her glittering baubles. The diamond cluster pendant around her neck. The diamond and platinum tassel earrings. The twisted, jet studded upper arm bracer; they became the only things I could clearly see. Why did a natural beauty like her need such gaudy accessories? Why wallow in artifice when she shone in her own aged natural splendour? Women like her and her puffed-up daughter used ostentation like a mirrored shield to bedazzle others with their opulence while they hid behind it.

Fuck that.

Rich or not, she ate my cock like any whore would've. I resolved not to be blinded by her wealth. My fingers plucked her expensive jewelry like fruit from a Bauble Tree. Every glittering item I saw went into my jacket pocket. Torrie said nothing. Not that she could've with her face jammed full of my cockmeat. I managed to remove my sports jacket despite the crammed accommodations. It fell to the car floor, instantly forgotten.

Torrie decided to use her hands. She shucked me of my pants. They resisted, like stubborn husks tenaciously clinging onto their corn cob. She liberated them, then tossed my pants away. She pumped my cock with her slender hands while massaging my balls with her mouth. She took each one inside, nibbling daintily on them like hors d'oeuvres. Her sharp little tongue speared between my nuts, running over the line in my balls sac that separated them. The odd jiggling sensation felt strange, but not overly uncomfortable. But when she forced her face forward and slid her tongue further south to probe around my tight brown ring I lost it. The instant that her tongue brushed against my bunghole I almost stuccoed the roof of the Jaguar. Her hand tightening at the base of my cock is all that prevented a sticky mess from being made. Her tongue pressed deeper, forcing its way into me. My asshole parted like soft cork before a twisting tongue of spiraled steel.

That was it for me. I had to come and I didn't intend to waste any of it. I yanked Torrie's head up by her braid, then jammed my cock down her throat before she could draw a single breath. This time I wouldn't wait passively while she serviced me. I slammed into her face as hard as I could. That didn't pose any difficulties for her. She swallowed cock with the hunger of a crackwhore looking for a fix. She seemed desperate to pleasure me.

The first blast from my cock fired down her throat. Torrie gulped it down. Ditto for the second and third shots from my dick. She loved oral, like advertised. But I wanted to see the stuff. I now understood the value of pop-shots in porn. Without seeing the baby paste the whole episode fell flat for me. I pulled myself out of her, allowing my cum to soak the side of her face. Sticky white trickles ran down her cheek. She scraped most of it away, slurping it up as she had her own spit.

"You do like it," I said, barely managing to get the words out of my mouth due to my winded state.

"Remember this moment when I ask you to go down on me later on," she said.

I smeared the remaining cum into the side of her face. She snuggled against my palm. "God, I can't wait to fuck you," I said.

"You're so dead." Theresa's poleaxed voice came through clearly on the car phone. "They won't find your remains when I'm done with you, Milligan. Your balls are mine!"

"Actually, his balls are mine, dear. Those, and the beautiful cock attached to them. You wouldn't want to make mummy unhappy, would you?" Torrie gingerly picked up the handset, pressed a button, then returned it to its cradle in the car's console.

"Hands-free?" I said.

"You have to press the End key before hanging up, or else it assumes you want hands-free mode," she explained.

I felt blood rush into my cheeks, probably excess runoff from my cock since my erection had long gone the way of the Dodo. Torrie consolingly kissed the head of my shriveled cock.

"I had no idea she was still on the line," I said.

"I did," Torrie replied. Her lascivious grin made me shudder.

"Are we leaving or what? I'd like to finish what you started," she said. Hell, why not? I pulled out into the street.

"I've always wanted to drive a fine, luxury automobile. Here's my chance to pretend I'm living the sweet life," I said.

"Why not buy yourself one?"

I glanced over at her. Those impossibly blue eyes of hers stared back at me. My stomach fluttered. Her patiently waiting look made me feel like a schoolboy caught doing mischief. I guess it took more than a hard-assed facade to change a man. I felt way out of my depth. My insecurity made me churlish.

"I'm no salesman. I work to eat, not to buy toys."

"Pawn my stuff, then. Is that why you pocketed all my jewellery? To make some quick cash?"

I coloured at that. I thought I'd been so cool, showing my dominance by removing her baubles without permission. Now I felt ridiculous. Torrie laughed at my discomfort. She always knew how to knock me off balance. She wasn't mean, just utterly unpredictable. She patted my head like a teacher would a favoured pupil. I blushed under her touch.

"Flashy clothes and cars show a salesman's prosperity and skill. It's hard to land the big contracts if a power client sees you chugging up to his door in a Yugo."

"You know about that, do you?"

"I know everything about you, Adam. Only now it seems like I don't know as much as I thought."

"How so?"

"For example, I never imagined that you could hold a serious conversation with a woman with her tits hanging out and your cock dangling free."

I couldn't help it. I laughed out loud. I almost lost control of the car because of it.