Extending the MILF List Ch. 25

In that moment, all the roiling thoughts roiling my mind coalesced and it was clear what I was going to do to trap this beast in his own arrogance. The Volkswagen vision itself made me chuckle but the clarity delighted me so that I slide right into open laughter, which made he man glower.

"I say, that seats taken, I am waiting for someone." He repeated aggressively. His eyes tightened to little points.

I nodded amiably and extended my hand. "So you are, I am Sonny Duncan." I thought that a perfectly reasonable thing to do. The man's face lost the glower and turned perfunctorily bland.

"Ah yes, you're the one who would trade away his sister." He said with a self-satisfied smile, as though the deal was done and he'd had the best of it, already. We'd see about that.

"And you're the man who'd trade away his perfectly good wife for a younger, hotter model." I returned the lazy lob.

"You're Georgia's brother." He said, as though making a salient point not heretofore in evidence as though it were a surprising revelation.

"And you're the dick." I said, dangling the elegant ambiguity in front of his face, which seemed to bypass him entirely. It seems that in his bowsprit arrogance, any reference to cock was just a projection for him.

"I am indeed. So shall we get to business?" His bluffness and arrogance grated on me like sand in my ass hole, or so I imagined having never indulged that particular ambition. I was spared the necessity for any rapier response by the procession of dim sum carts that suddenly found us and in moments the table was cluttered with all that variety that is dim sum, from spring rolls to chicken feet, though how the feet arrived I missed entirely, eying them constantly in the ensuing conversation with a sort of nervous but irrational foreboding. What happened to the rest of the chicken?

When the flurry of Asiatic service passed and we could finally partake of what was actually good food, Howard restated his question like he was working from a teleprompter. "Shall we get down to business?" He spoke with all the avuncular delight of a cannibal's dinner invitation to his dinner (guest). He clearly saw me as some callow boy to be fleeced of his cock-riding sister with a minimum of effort or attention, which I confess irritated me a bit but in all honestly gave me the opening line of attack in this clash of wills, perverse as it was.

"If you like, but I want to know, out of just curiosity, why you think a brother can trade a sister way for anything, not to mention an elder sister. Have you met my sisters?" I intentionally used the plural. "Nova is a redhead."

"Nova? Who's that?" He interjected with blunt disregard for the poetry of my patter and the meter that made it meticulously melodious. Not.

His question told me either he was not as intimate with my sister as either of them claimed or he was so self-absorbed as to ignore such insights into the nature of the female he was seeking to claim for his own use. Cock-shortener, was the label that came to mind. Cock-sharpener, as in the ancient and rarely seen pencil sharpener that reduced the long and the fat to nubby ghosts of their former selves. I could be mistaken in this regard but I had growing hope.

I ignored his question. Seems like the whole "red head" reference would have cued him to the reference without elaboration. But no. "She's not subtle and why would you ever think her little brother could trade her away for anyone or anything, or indeed direct her to anything at all?" I was unsure if I was being rhetorical. The man had no clue either.

"Who is this Nova?" He repeated.

"Georgia. My sister." I answered in a fit of elucidating exasperation. "Why would you think I could trade Georgia for anything to anyone ever?"

"You're fucking her." Now we were getting somewhere. "You fuck a broad, you own them and they know it."

"I see." I managed to keep the boiling umbrage out of sight but not out of mind. I elaborated no further. I had the unhappy thought that someone had disclosed this to him and I had no idea why, how or when. I did the most un-Sonny thing then, which was emerging as a tactic of great utility, and waited, silent, though casually using chop sticks to sample some bamboo shoots and a sprig of pulled pork that hardly seemed Chinese, but was redolent of soy sauce and cilantro. When in America, there are no culinary rules.

"So?" He said after a while, watching me sampling the menagerie of food littering the table. "We gonna do this?"

I stopped my chopped grazing and finally looked into his beady eyes, something I cannot imagine Mavis or any other woman doing when they mounted him. It'd be like finding a grasshopper in bed with you. "I gather what we are doing is less me trading you my sister, and more you finding a way to remove your wife from your happy home so you can offer your kickstand to my sister or whomever you can lure round to give it a once over." I made that a statement, not a question. The man had the gall to look relieved.

"Ah so we understand each other." He wasn't chatty, but his silences weren't strategic or even tactical so much as his syllablic reservoir was shallow and ran empty quickly. This was hardly reticence so much as paucity, not just of words, but of thought.

"I doubt that. Understanding requires insight, insight suggests knowledge and that implies reflection that has nothing to do with mirrors." I paused but the man made no offer to interrupt. I took his silence for what it must have been, both a lack of comprehension and the lack of interest that curiosity might have engendered. There was neither. "I am still unclear why you think I have the ability, much less the inclination to trade a beloved sister away to you." Again a statement. I had little inclination to invite him to speak with a friendly question.

"I told Georgia, I couldn't suspend the 500 mile rule with Mavis in the house. She had to be...um...occupied. Georgia said that she'd get you to trade her to me for Mavis. She said all I had to do was make the offer and you'd do it, just to show you were a big man and could give her away like that. The idea would appeal to you."

Oh dear. My dear sister was the hand up this puppet's butt. He may have had good business sense but had the emotional IQ of a can of oven cleaner.

"She wants more of my big cock."

I didn't want to respond to that. I didn't. Honest. But my mouth was conceited and spewed while the brain puzzled over the many possible responses in a fit of indecision. "You're a big dick." I said, a bit softly.

Howard nodded with a flushing grin, like I'd complimented him, which, had I done so, it was an oversight and a mistake of equal proportion. "That I am, friend. And the ladies do love the big dick that I am."

"Size does matter, I suppose." I muttered. What astonished me was that my sister would be enthralled by this slab of stupid. Or that Mavis for all her emerging sexual dynamism should have been married to this cretin. I had the feeling that his adventures were far more numerous and evanescent that Mavis even realized. Surely it was an arranged marriage and she was a too-early bride rather than a willing participant in it.

"That it does. So? Are we agreed? You take Mavis off my hands and I'll settle Georgia on her back as she wants?"

I may have been silent but my mind was gradually clearing. The focus developed into a clarity that made me ebullient for so many reasons, beyond just a bit of clarity after such a cloudy couple weeks. Georgia was behind this and with her surely the full coven of Duncan sisters were involved. This had none of the style of my blunt and rash redheaded sister and all the hallmarks of dear Dalia. And Tawny would never let them plot something without getting into the middle of it. It occurred to me that this was their way of "weaning Sonny off of sister sex" and thus decorated it as an altruistic version of getting this man's huge cock into them. They all conspired to make this sensible and missed the obvious implication, daft twats that they are.

"So they told you that I own them and I can trade them away?" I offered the gambit but the man denied it.

"No. Just Georgia. One for one. That's fair. Mavis, you get her, and Georgia, I get her. A trade. Fair. One for one."

"Now why would I do that? Trade away one of my sisters if I am fucking them all?" The question sounded idiotic to me, honestly but it seemed to fit with his thinking. So it did.

"Three is too much for you. You need to reduce the burden. I doubt you can keep up with Georgia, must less the three of them altogether."

It is fascinating to find how often that one's own arrogance makes a man effortlessly as well as cluelessly insulting. One cock per man always leaves us out numbered by the holes a woman has to offer. Size is irrelevant when the final count is in.

"How did you happen to employ all my sisters at once?" I asked, slightly embarrassed that this bit of trivia about my own sisters had escaped me. My years of chasing pussy had been so self-absorbed that this discovery that I was both missing this bit of detail and was now interested in it surprised me in a breathtaking way. It was a new thing to be interested in such things.

"Oh, I have wanted to pork your sisters from the beginning. Dalia was the one I wanted to hire. She's sharp, but she insisted that I interview the other two and when I saw Tawny, well, I guess I am not the only one with a yen to fuck your sisters. They have kept me away until this last Florida gig and I finally got Georgia on her back...she confessed it was because you fucked her first. Her own brother! Imagine that...I figured once she told me that she'd do anything at any time with anyone I wanted but, no! She said she was yours and she only fucked me because she missed you. Made me want her to move in all the more. Then the girls were all gone and it was just Mavis alone and I kept thinking of that little taste of Georgia and I wanted more. So when she offered this, I thought, why not?"

Why not, indeed! Time to trap this bumptious bumpkin. "So why not take all three of them? I could have the house to myself then."

The man actually shook his head. "Oh no, one is plenty. I only have the one cock after all, and so one is plenty. Besides, I only have Mavis to trade."

And there it was. Deep inside I was rubbing my hands together in anticipation. Pictures can do that to a guy. Now you may be asking if I have failed to learn anything. Patience, friends. I mentioned clarity? Well, things were clear to me now.

"No. You don't." I said. More elegant ambiguity followed by a pregnant pause. I made this guy into a midwife using just his impatience.

"I don't what?" He said after the overlong silence did its work.

"You don't just have Mavis to trade."

"What do you mean?"

"You said one for one, right? I think all or nothing. Three for three." The beady green eyes twitched a little as though his lizard brain knew what I was suggesting. But he kept the bland mask of incomprehension firmly in place. This was business and he was good at business but I don't think he was following me at all. I elaborated a bit more. "You want Mavis out of your house, I want my sisters out of mine. Three for three."

He shook his head. "Mavis is big but I wouldn't accuse her of being worth three by herself."

I grinned. "You mean to tell me you have never thought about fucking your daughters?" The horror that passed over his face was delicious. Does that make me evil?

"I would never!" He croaked, all bluster and bumptious aggression had vanished.

I gambled. "But you did, didn't you?" The look on his face was my winning number.

"Oh lord, how did you know?" He squeaked, his voice shrinking down to Tinker Bell size.

"You are a man of appetites and not given to self-restraint." I replied softly.

The man nodded, reminding me of an oxen with a ring in his nose being led down a muddy road. "That's true enough." He said, but I didn't take that for full agreement...instead assuming he could manage to react to the first thing in a series but not more than one. Two would be too much and so he'd respond to the first and just ignore the rest. One could tuck in insults after a comma and he'd never notice, and likely in his business, that appeared to be poise and imperturbability rather than bluff ignorance. Being daft became a benefit.

I was silent, again, some more, and he managed to add to the moment for me. "Not often. They were my girls after all. But, Mavis would be gone and they teased and offered and well, I fucked them. Barbara first, cause she's the slut. Carrie Anne only laid down once't and just to show her sister that she could take my cock too. God, they were tight." He hesitated then handed me the stick to beat him bloody with. "I finance everything for them. When they come home, I get a suck most times but they only lay down when Mavis is...oh shit! If Georgia is there, they'd never do even...!" The lights were coming on. "Oh lord! I see what you mean. Three for three!" He grinned then like he'd just discovered his own hard cock.

I nodded. "Three for three."

"By god! All of them? All the time?" Howard licked his thick lips and I shuddered but it was a happy shudder because, for once, my lovely Dalia had outsmarted herself and Sonny was there to see it...and benefit from it. "But how? I mean, you can give away your sisters but, Barbie and Annie...?" His use of the name "Annie" made me shiver. That overlap had to go.

"Carrie and Barb are financed by you...just bring them back with the threat of cutting them off for a weekend and I'll do the rest. If they don't want to remain, they can go. But same goes for my sisters. If you can keep them, you can but if they pack up and skitter away, you don't use that against them at work. Agreed?"

This guy seemed to be shallow but he'd built a business and making this arrangement seem like a commercial contract engaged the immutable part of his personality. While maybe he was devious and conniving, he had an honesty that allowed people to trust his mercantile promises and the "three for three" had numbers in it which made it recognizable and thus engaged that part of him that made him rich.

"I couldn't cut them off!"

"Do they know that?" I asked reasonably.

He hunched his shoulders and looked down at his hands in his lap. "They know they have me wrapped around their little fingers."

"Tell them you owe Sid Kingston money and if you don't turn them over to me, you'll lose your business."

Seeing a guy built like a block of granite move fast is like seeing an elephant on tiptoes. It happens but it don't look natural! His head came up so fast, had it been me I'd have gotten whiplash.

"You know Mr. Kingston?"

I shrugged but it felt casual and not self-deprecating as in the past. "I know him, fuck his wife, work for him." I could have bitten off my tongue. Annie was not a piece of ass to be bandied around in casual conversation, if this could be called casual. I was saved by the man's "one and done" sort of attention span.

"You know Mr. Kingston?" He repeated the phrase and I felt a reprieve, that I'd gotten away with being stupid...this once. I realized the hapless and inattentive not to say incautious Sonny had to change to something slightly more urbane while remaining country clever.

"I work for Mr. Kingston." I said, which I sort of did. Not like I was a W-2 employee or even a 1099 consultant...American tax status references that failed to encompass what I was to Sid and company. Not that I knew, exactly but it wasn't anything formalized, since fucking his wife is hardly a tax status.

"Oh shit." The man muttered. Then he grinned, the happy idiot. "That would work. I mean, if you know Sid Kingston, you could ruin my..." His beady eyes got less beady. "Oh man!" He shook that block head of his. "Do you really know him?"

"His cock is bigger than yours and I don't need to measure." I said softly.

"Oh lord." He whispered. "You have seen it?"

Funny the sorts of things people know about other people and how it affects them when it gets referenced explicitly. "Let's say that I saw him mount a woman and she was happy about the attention."

Still less beady. "You wouldn't shit a shitter, would you?"

Realizing I was asking this man to surrender his two gorgeous daughters to me, I took a gamble. I scrolled to Sid's number on my phone and showed it to him. It said "Sid Kingston" pretty as you please. "He's in China now, so it's about two in the morning or so...but you can call him and ask him."

The man never hesitated. He took my phone and poked it, then held it to his meaty ear. "No, this isn't Sonny...he's here though. I am Howard Percival...yes, that's my firm. You have heard of us? Oh, oh I see. Yes, I have had dealings with them. Did I wake you? Oh god, Sir, his Mom? She is? No, I haven't had the pleasure. I bet she's happy to be stretched out for you. Oh, yes, well, I and Sonny were discussing trading his sisters for my wife and two daughters. Yes, to fuck. That's right. No, but Sonny sweetened the pot. I should? I will then. Okay. Barmeinster? In New York? Oh the office in D.C. I will, thank you, sir. Sorry to call so late. Thank you, yes, I'll tell him."

Much much less beady.

He handed the phone to me.

"Mr. Kingston says to say 'Hello' and he'd chat but he was busy fucking your mother." The man clinched his eyes closed. "Was he? Really? Fucking your mother?"

I nodded as casually as I could, imagining that first time and how my mother had dissolved into a puddle of savory slut. "Call yourself on my phone there so you have my number and I have yours. Then let me know when it is done, when your daughters are on board. Do you know if either of the girls have fucked the boys?" My voice was so casual I almost went to sleep.

The man covered his face with both meaty hands, pressing swelled palms to his eyes. "I, oh lord, I have no idea."

I nodded. A brother fucking a sister, wouldn't be the first time. Hardly. "Let me know." I slid out of the booth and was gone, as soon as his phone rang with my number on it. I'd been chop sticking the dim sum and was just right in the food department and took my leave with no handshake. I'd lured the man into handing me his daughters...and in fact, they both appeared to have potential as lay down assistants for Hassum, that is, for Hassum's client. Brother or father, they each had someone to fuck that would keep them quiet about the interview process and the client if it got that far. In that moment, that approach to the matter solidified for me.

It had puzzled me as to how to give a valid review of a female's fuckability without opening myself or Hassum up to legal "me too" ramifications. I'd glanced off the solution but had yet to integrate it properly. I didn't know if either of these females would fit the position, I'd need to meet them first. I did know that I could practice the pitch on them and see how it worked...perfect fit for when I had a legitimate, or more legitimate candidate. They both had the look, that sexual profligacy flaunted in their eyes, but that could just be camera flirtiness.

The drive back to the hotel was uneventful if you discount the bubbling potential I'd just tapped. This was a first. I'd not yet had a man offer up daughters for my edification. I was just about to get into the line for the car hop when the phone rang. I was lucky, a car in the temp parking line near the valet station backed out and let me slide right in. One of the uniformed valet's waved at me and said something but I answered the phone and he stopped gesticulating.

"Mr. Duncan? It's done. They'll be here Tuesday or Wednesday." The phone said in my ear. No 'hello', no 'good morning', just Howard Percival telling me he'd already called his daughters wherever they were and had arranged for them to return to the nest to be traded for my coven of sisters. I thanked him and got back into the Valet line. For some reason, the place looked frazzled and frenzied. A stubby bus was parked right in the way and the driver sat inside, shivering in he brittle cold. The valets of which there were more than the usual number, had to ease around the thing, often flipping the guy off as they did.