Kitty's Mom Ch. 02

I was barely aware that Kitty had continued to babble on, as Cynthia and I gazed at each other, appraising, evaluating, admiring.

".....she's not really my aunt, except she and mom have been best friends since college, and I've known her so long that, well, she just FEELS like my aunt...."

I extended my hand to Cynthia even as Kitty continued to drone on, and when Cynthia's perfectly manicured palm disappeared in my own, my cock twitched in response, despite the fact that it had been buried in Kitty's mouth and her mom's ass today. Bad boy. Bad, bad boy.

"I know this must be a bad time, you look very busy this evening," Cynthia said, essentially stepping in front of Kitty and, by doing so, dismissing her subtly. "But, you see, I have to be in the studio by ten for tonight's show, and I was wondering if I could discuss my proposal in your office?"

I glanced around at the restaurant's throng. It was indeed a very inconvenient time, but something told me that Cynthia Tyson was not used to being put off. She smiled at me in that seductively charming style that I had seen on the screen thousands of times over the years while guys beat off on their recliners to her image on their monitors.

Sensing my discomfort, Cynthia continued to hold onto my hand. "I won't take five minutes of your precious time, I promise."

I nodded and politely pointed the way to my office. Kitty gave me an adoring look, and I almost felt a pang of guilt that she still had not the slightest idea that I was the ass-pirate of her mom. Almost.

Cynthia led the way as my eyes were riveted onto her perfect ass, clad in tight yet classy black linen slacks. Some of the men around the bar noticed Cynthia, and there were a few catcalls and whistles as the sex symbol snaked her way through the bar area and to the back office.

We finally reached my tiny office, and I closed the door behind us as I gestured to Cynthia to have a seat. I had never seen her off-screen, and I had to admit, she was even better up close. Her tanned face was cute, that was the best way to describe it, she looked no more than thirty-five even without the TV makeup.

But it was her cat-like eyes that were so fucking alluring. Sparkling green with flecks of gold, they seemed to pierce into the mind and psyche of every male viewer, as if she was talking only to you. And, in this case, she was only talking to me.

Cynthia crossed her long legs. She watched me admire them. My eyes made their way to her chest, which was rather small, but two promising outlines of erect nipples poked through the satin purple sleeveless blouse. Her toned arms left no doubt that she could arm-wrestle me into submission in no time flat if she so desired.

Yet she wasn't here to arm-wrestle, intuition told me. "So, just how can I help you, Ms. Tyson?" I asked, walking to the chair behind my desk.

Cynthia said nothing for her a few long seconds. She was sizing me up somehow. The momentary silence was somewhat awkward, yet filled with unmistakable sexual tension. Finally, after what seemed like minutes, she spoke.

"Great tongue and well hung, huh? That's how you can help me, John."

I gulped. That was a definite curveball, and I'm a fastball hitter. I was officially off-balance now with her first pitch.

Strike two was fast coming. "So, you're fucking Loretta while her sweet virgin dear Kitty sucks your big cock. Aren't you such a busy boy?"

I never had time to react when she next threw a beanball pitch, backing me off the plate. "Loretta wants some assurance that you won't deflower her baby, and it seems that will be the inevitable conclusion to you and Kitty's little arrangement. Unless........"

She let the words dangle in the air. Unless? Unless....what?

Cynthia got up from her seat, slowly, gracefully, and walked to the edge of my desk and placed her fine ass on its edge. "Unless she offers a diversion. I've graciously offered my services to assure that won't happen if you agree to donate to my charities."

My forehead crinkled as perspiration began to furrow down my brow. What was this, a shakedown? I'm being forced to pay to NOT fuck Kitty?

Cynthia sensed my discomfort and chuckled, bringing two long fingers to my chin and raising my head so that I could only look directly into her eyes, now perhaps two feet away. She smelled like roses and strawberries and thundershowers. And sex. She most definitely smelled like sex.

"No, no, no, John, this is not a compensatory relationship." One finger began to caress my cheek. "You see," Cynthia began to rub her long neck with her other hand. "...my charities are my mouth, and my breasts, and my pussy, and yes.....my ass. And you have quite the collateral to donate and most adequately fill my quotas, according to Loretta."

I still hadn't said a word since asking how I could be of assistance. I saw no reason to break that silence now.

Cynthia brought one finger to my mouth and offered it to me, letting it linger between my lips. "For better or worse, I'm somewhat of a media darling." She sighed as if that was a bad thing. Hey, what the fuck did I know, I was a restaurant manager, maybe it was a bad thing.

I began to unconsciously suck on Cynthia's finger, and I made a mental note to add it to the menu as an app. It was tastier that anything we served. She continued, probing her finger deeper into my mouth. "You may have read that I'm in the middle of a somewhat contentious divorce."

Come to think of it, I thought, her finger twirling around my gums now, I did hear something to that effect. I began to lightly chew on her fingertip. A taste-test of sorts. Yummy. Was that my imagination, or did Cynthia moan ever so imperceptibly?

"I can't have a date in a public place without some reporter or blogger making a federal case out of it, and I don't want that to complicate my divorce. So, I have to make other accommodations. I haven't been laid in months, and, well, Loretta suggested that you were just the man that has proven to he can maintain proper discretion."

I nodded again, essentially hypnotized, as she pulled her finger out of my mouth and began to nibble on it herself. "And fuck. Loretta says you can fuck for hours. That's what I'm looking for right now." She licked her own finger while peering into my eyes, her face flushed and her eyes. "So, interested in donating?"

Naturally, I expressed my interest in her worthy cause. After discovering that we both were free this coming Sunday, Cynthia gave me the address to her ocean-front beach house in Margate and suggested I arrive there in early afternoon.

"Thank you for your time, John. You've been most accommodating, and I promised this would take no more than five minutes." She glanced at her Rolex, speckled with jewels. "I'll say goodbye to Kitty on my way out."

As I rose, Cynthia stopped at the door and turned around. "Oh, and off-screen? I can be a perfect slut with the right man. And you look like the right man. Bye now."

I got a speeding ticket heading east on the Atlantic City Expressway late Sunday morning. The state trooper asked me why I was in such a hurry.

"I have a charity event to attend, officer."

It turned to be black-tie optional.

TO BE CONTINUED.