Extending the MILF List Ch. 22

The light finally went on, bright enough to see my cock was hard.

"Oh my god, you little whore. You figure that if Jamie is fucking Alissa, you will get to handle the account yourself?"

"Why shouldn't I? They know me..."

"...and have fucked you, I might add." Which I did, glancing at her. Ellen glowered at me, only a little better than ignoring me, which she then did, again.

"...so having me handle the account would make sense. Alissa will know that and if she is as much into Jamie as he is into her..."

I snickered in the most lascivious way which got another glower and was ignored again.

"...she will need someone who can handle the account for her and cover for her when he wants to use her."

At that last, I had to take exception or become forever irrelevant.

"Mrs. Honeywell is mine."

Ellen arched an eyebrow at me.

"Along with how many others? Including me?" She didn't wait for an answer which was good cause I was driving and couldn't take off my shoes to help me count...I feared I had fucked more than twenty and would need to borrow Ellen's fingers and toes to get a good accounting and that would have not pleased her I didn't think. "Do you really think you can continue fucking every female of age you meet?" She asked, finally sounding like she was talking to me and not a radio host introducing a pre-recorded segment.

Oh, now that she was talking to me, I regretted it because that was the question that haunted me. And here she was just asking it clearly, blurting it right out as though it was a casual topic of conversation. I glanced in the rear view mirror and saw that the black SUV was following closely. I was convinced that I could not turn down any pussy that came my way but I was surely going to be swamped soon. The list was so long I needed a pussy assistant to keep me informed. Or. I could just fuck when the opportunity presented itself and not worry about trying to conserve it. I like that option, honestly but conventional wisdom says you should get organized. I argue that Christianity was a great idea until the fuckers organized it...see the priests and their predatory ways. Hypocrisy only appears when policy gets set, the rest of the time you can chalk it up to very human learning...but I digress.

"Well," I started, coasting up to a yellow light as other's zoomed past me. I stopped and the SUV carrying the Mother and Daughter St. Vincent stopped behind me. "I guess I see what you mean. Mrs. Honeywell was gasping for a ride on Jamie's cock and if he is trying to do business with her, she'd end up on her knees or flopped over the desk all the time. All the work I have gone to to secure her an upright position in the firm would be wasted."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Ellen nodding sagely.

"So this is all about securing your position in PB&K?" I asked, trying not to sound accusing. Peppers, Bickerstaff and Kline, not Peanut Butter and Kippers, for you not keeping up.

"My position is on my back, fucker." Ellen shot back. "I am trying to protect Alissa. You know she won't ask for their business...that is she can't if her mouth is full of cock."

"She can't think very straight when she's racked with orgasm either." I added helpfully.

"Exactly. So we, you and I, settle Candice and Xavia here, as your pussies, and The St. Vincent connection will be secured."

I was pretty sure that one of my sisters would secure Jamie. All three would mean a green card for him because if he had them all no one would refuse him if he wanted to immigrate.

"All you need to do is pick which house they should buy."

I didn't think I understood that.

"I don't think I understand that." I said, speaking my mind for the first time in my life...well that day, or maybe since we got into the car.

Ellen snorted again. I had to check to make sure she hadn't grown a flat pig snout.

"It's not complicated. You visit three houses and then tell them which one to buy."

"How should I do that? If it has indoor plumbing, I'm there. Well, if the roof doesn't leak. I can't imagine you taking them to see anything that isn't a good option. How does my opinion matter?"

"Matter? If you do this you can fuck Mrs. St. Vincent and, and Xavia anytime and any way you like. What does it matter what it matters?"

The bitch had a point. We rode in silence for a while except for Ellen's terse directions. Right here, left there, right here, don't run over the rug rats. After missing the turn the GPS had lost its mind and she turned it off. We finally stopped across the street from a mammoth building that looked brand new in the last century. The female standing out front was not from the last century.

"I hope you want me to get into that." I muttered when Ellen told me to stop and waved at the woman. She was perhaps late twenties with dusty hair below her shoulders, wearing a dress that surely had been painted onto her voluptuous body with fingernail polish. She stood out in the cold, hugging herself, stamping her feet in the bitter cold.

"That's Yvonne Saels." Ellen said, introducing us without introducing us.

Ellen and I piled out of the car and crossed the street as the SUV parked behind us.

"Should we wait for the St. Vincents?" I asked, glancing at the SUV. I wasn't sure at all that this would be as easy as it sounded. Something was missing. I felt it but had little idea what it could be.

"You can wait, I'm getting my skinny little ass in where it's warm." Ellen the lawyer squeaked. She gestured to the young woman. "Yvonne, let's go inside you must be freezing your ass off." And that, my friends, was a tragic statement, terrible even to think about because this woman had an ass that extended behind her like a reef waiting to wreck any unsuspecting ship passing by. When she walked, it shifted behind her like a paradigm. I was still staring at the place she'd been standing when the shivering St. Vincents appear to either side of me. They bumped me out of my reverie and let me escort them inside.

It was a house. It had rooms and the usual ones and some I'd never heard of. It was larger than the block I grew up on and I swear I got lost twice. Well, three times because the third time I found myself in the massive bedroom with attached massive bath, empty of furniture and smelling vaguely musty from lack of air circulation. That was my thought anyway.

"Oh Mr. Duncan, there you are." The voice behind me scooted me further into the room. It was the painted real estate lady, Yvonne. She sauntered over the the thermostat and touched it. "It's a bit chilly. You'll feel how fast it warms up with just a brush of your fingers."

She said a mouthful. She'd been chattering non-stop during the whole tour, as though trying to warm the huge mansion all by herself. I know, more likely she was afraid we'd vanish if she stopped talking. I was speechless the whole time, staring at her ass, imagining it bare and how it would look with my hands clutching at it. Now, looking into her eyes, I was speechless again, still.

"Mr. Duncan?" The woman said, questioningly. My eyes were free to wander because she was facing me and that fabulous ass was out of sight behind her. I raised them away from her timid tits, made to seem so in their medium glory by the incredible ass she wore behind her. I quit inspecting the rest of her curvaceous body and looked into her hazel ones, decoration for the rich smile she was offering me. "What do you think?"

"Built like a..." I stuttered then, realizing just in time she was not asking my opinion of her tightly wrapped body. "...very solid galleon." I finished lamely, hoping it sounded slight patrician. It didn't apparently.

"A galleon?" She asked, the light in her eyes dimming a bit.

"You know a Spanish treasure ship." I felt stupid but by now, I knew what that felt like and it no longer unnerved me so much. Felt sort of comfortable actually, so...reassuring. I wanted to dismiss her ass so I could focus on the task at hand but decided that would be rude. I continued to imagine how that ass would feel bunched up between us as I fucked her. Turns out I knew things I didn't know I knew.

"Would you like to see the master's bath." She asked, gesturing with a hand like a woman on a game show. I couldn't look away so nodded and waited with bated breath for her to turn around. She obliged me and that fabulous ass reappeared and I couldn't breathe again. God what an ass that woman had following her around. If I was her, I'd back into every room, first impressions and all.

"Come along, Mr. Duncan." Her voice lilted at me and I nearly made some comment about who needed a collar but again managed to stop myself. It was pointlessly pointless. Still, I did as she instructed. It amused me to follow her direction.

She pointed to the sinks, the raised tub with built in water jets and the toilet as though explaining them to me was required. She seemed to think I lived in a tent and shit in the woods with all the other bears. I was just glancing around for Ellen and the two St. Vincents, wondering where they were when things got interesting.

"This of course is the shower. As you can see it is a walk in shower, no door, just the stone walls that can be heated in the winter, like now. Touch them, they are warm."

She was right, they were warm! And the shower was a walk-in shower and she just walked in, her high heels clacking on the floor of it. The echo was erotic somehow. I grunted and peered around the corner just in time to see her reach out and turn on the water.

For a moment I was so astonished, I just stared but then it registered that her dress went from being opaque to diaphanous and her body appeared, clad only in the cellophane of her dress now invisible and the black outlines of a bra and thong. Her ass appeared clearly in the wet dress.

"Oh, look, the water is still on. And see, it is warm instantly. There is a heater in the wall so you don't get chilled water even as cold as it is outside." She turned off the water and stood there, next to naked, staring at the shower controls. "Oh gosh, I'm all wet now. Could you check in the cabinet there by the sinks. I keep towels in there."

I moved like I was in a trance. Sure enough there was a stack of three or four big fluffy gray towels in the cabinet to the right of the triple sinks. I removed one and turned around to find the woman standing there in nothing but bra and thong...oh, and high heels.

"There are clothes in the closet, could you get them for me?" She asked pleasantly like this was all part of the tour. I was thinking "ass, ass, ass" in the vain hope that she would turn around and ask me to dry it off with my tongue. "And a hanger to hang up this dress so it will dry properly."

I carried the towel with me to the walk-in closet, realized what I'd done and stopped at the door. I opened it up and sure enough there were clothes handing there, along with panties and a bra on a shelf. I looked at the towel, then turned around to hand it to her but then turned back to get the clothing. There were three dresses and I selected the shortest and what would surely be the tightest of them all. It had a ruffle along the bottom that would look good because it would surely be just over the arch of that fine ass of hers.

Yes, my mind had gone kerplunk and I was not thinking at all. Not a thing was between my ears except cold air. I clamped my mouth shut, picked up a bra and a pair of red skivvies and returned to the bathroom. Yvonne had not moved from the entrance to the shower. She stood there, dripping and by now, shivering in the chill of the house. I heard a soft murmur and for a moment thought someone was arriving, someone else...but then felt a draught of warm air on my ankles and realized the forced air system was panting like I was at the sight of the woman.

Her breasts were mouthfuls but her ass was a basket past handfuls. She obligingly turned around and showed me her ass. I looked with rapacious interest. My god, the cleft of her ass was deep enough to need safety rails!

"Mr. Duncan, a little help please? I am sorry I am such a ditz. Unzip my dress please."

My hands were full. I dropped the clothing, keeping the towel in my left hand. The clothes drifted to the carpet. I moved close to her and tugged at the zipper. I expected it to stick and resist but in fact, it offered not a bit of resistance, sliding down as easily as a polite suggestion to expose her well tanned back and the cross-brace of her bra. Down, down, down I tugged on the magic little tab until the swell of her ass pulled it tight and the fabric began to resist. Resistance was futile. I unzipped her until the cleft of her ass, clearly visible through the diaphanous fabric was right at my knuckles.

She turned around and carefully peeled the wet dress off her torso. Her tits appeared cuddled up in the bra and then she was stepping out of the dress.

"Do you have a hanger?" She asked softly, her voice mewling at me list a lost kitten. I was ready to rescue this pet, I'll tell you. I walked over her clothes on the floor where I'd dropped them out of the bathroom to the closet and got a hanger, an empty hanger which made sense but I assure you it was pure happenstance. Her ass, you understand. Back in the bathroom she was holding the soaked dress and folded it over her left forearm and reached out with the right hand. I looked at it like a mongoose watches a cobra.

"Towel?" She said softly, a slight smile on her lips.

I extended the hand with the hanger it in. She shook her head, then moved the draped dress from her arm and dropped it over my hand, hanger an all.

"Towel." She whispered again. The water had not touched her hair but the rest of her was wet to the pores. I extended the towel, which she took, and then I made to hang up the dress, tucking the hanger into it like I wanted to tuck my cock into her. I was hard and very aware of it.

Yvonne dabbed at her face, then at the expanse of her chest and neck above her bra. I noticed at that point that she had her phone in one hand. I stood there holding her wet dress on the hanger.

"Mr. Duncan, would you dry me?"

My mind shook itself like a hot horse at a horse fly rally and insisted that this was not normal behavior for a female in the United States or wherever I was. Something was amiss...and I clearly established in that moment that I didn't care. I dropped the dress, hanger and all onto the floor and took the towel from her hand. She turned around and lifted her hair with both hands, bowing her head.

"Unfasten me please." She said and this time there was no doubting that she had something more in mind than changing clothes. "Unhook my bra, then you can dry me off. I am very wet."

I swallowed the brick in my throat.

"Fuck me." I muttered. Like some women, Yvonne could hear a gnat fart. She turned her head so one eye could fix on me, moving her left elbow out of the way.

"I had hoped you would say that. Unhook me, please."

I dropped the towel. My cock was huge, felt like I was a standard bearer for the "Bigger than You" club. I unhooked her bra and she let it release one arm at a time, keeping her hair up off her neck. Holding her hair up, she twisted her torso to look at me with one eye and a half smile, the half I could see.

"I have dry panties in the cabinet." She whispered, her voice all raspy and breathy and "come thithery". Seemed like once I dropped her clothes on the floor, they didn't count. Her "panties" were a thong that was a string around her waist and a string that vanished in the canyonland crack of her ass. I placed both hands on her ass. She turned around and let her hair drop, placed her two hands on the counter before her and slightly arched her back, pressing her ass into my happy hands. She sighed a little, then a lot.

I massaged the firm cushion of her ass, feeling it in my hands from behind told me I wanted to feel it between us with me planted in her cunt or maybe pulling at it as she mounted me. My god, what an ass this woman possessed and seemed willing to share with me.

My musings seemed to puzzle her. She twisted again, reaching back to grasp my left wrist, pulling it off her ass, and drawing me against her body. She moved it up to her left breast and pressed my happy hand, all jazz hands now, over it, holding my palm against her very hard nipple. I cuddled up against her ass and felt her press back against me.

"Fuck me, Mr. Duncan." Yvonne whispered.

"Okay." I responded. This was no time to get witty. I might say something stupid and the pussy gods will curse me with no pussy at all. My superstition unbuckled my pants and dropped them to my ankles in short order. I'd dicked my sisters and the Hamiltons repeatedly and now it was time to dick a brand new pussy. I felt greedy and guilty but also scared to repudiate what was right here before me. I freed my hard cock and swiped it along the vast crevasse of her ass. It was hot, not ice cold though. She hissed and bent forward. At its base, far under her arched ass, her cunt appeared, the thick lips pursed and flaring, but also glistening with her need. Who was I to argue with the gods of pussy. I fucked her.

I slide into her like a greased monkey down a ski slope. Her body accepted me deeply the first thrust, no restriction, no stopping to buy a ticket, just right inside her body and far into her mewling, wet depths. She grunted a little and swiveled her hips, clearly trying to get me deeper. With an ass like hers, any normal cock would need an extension to let her feel properly filled...or do as I did, and crouch below the arch of her ass and lift. She groaned then and I knew I was touching her deeply and well.

"Oh god, I love that." Yvonne said, validating my conceit.

I stood tall then, lifting her body, my cock planted inside her. She shivered then. I felt so proud. I was a cold draught blowing up her skirt. I was not cold and she had no skirt so that is a very abstract metaphor. I did not care, I assure you. Her pussy writhed around me, clinching and chewing, massaging my cock in ways that nearly brought tears to my eye. My hands gripped her by the hips and ground us together. Her fabulous ass bunched up between us, the cushion of it against me was so erotic, so luscious, it felt like home and I got agoraphobic. I pulled back a little ways then rammed into her again. Her body shook and lurched forward before she could regain control and press herself back onto my cock.

I love that moment when a woman pushes herself onto my cock. It's that lurid validation that she is right where she belongs, where she desires to be. She grunts and hisses but keeps herself mounted on my cock and in that moment, I don't feel greedy, that I am fucking her for my own pleasure, but that she wants it as well. I love that concurrency of need and desire and lust and well, purpose. Hers and mine. I fucked her then with a gradual increase in force and tempo until she was rattling like a shake house in a hurricane.

Each cycle into her wet depths made her tremble as though having me planted inside her threatened to set off a chain reaction that my withdrawal interrupted. The faster I pumped into her cunt, the more continuous the trembling became until she screamed she was cumming, and she orgasmed, bucking and squirming in my grip, grinding herself back onto me with her full purpose in mind. She was built to fuck. So I fucked her. One should not insult the building trades, they are owed all our appreciation. In this case, it was a pleasure to appreciate their craft. The gods of sex smiled on me and I orgasmed, pumping her full of cum in short order.

I leaned against her and she draped over the counter and sink. I hadn't even removed her thong, feeling the line of it tight against the base of my cock.