North Shore Whore

"Of course." Dan rose from the couch and opened the door to room service.

"Chateauneuf du Pape, sir. Vintage 1989. Shall I open the bottle for you, Mr. Morgan?"

"No, thank you. I can manage. Just leave the corkscrew with me. And I'm not Mr. Morgan," Dan said, smiling. "I'm just here with his slutty wife." The sommelier, taken aback, simply nodded and marched back toward the service elevator. Dan returned to the living room to open the bottle.

Mrs. Morgan gave him a disapproving look. "You shouldn't say things like that, Dan. My husband and I stay here sometimes when we need a weekend in the city."

"Well," Dan said lightly as he popped the cork and poured a glass for each of them, "since you're no stranger here on your own, I'm sure my announcement was no surprise." Dan handed a glass to Mrs. Morgan as he sat back down. By the time his butt hit the cushion, Mrs. Morgan had downed her glass and held her hand out for another; Dan gave her annoyed look.

"Don't look at me like that," she scolded, getting up and walking toward the bedroom. "Your best friend's mom will be spreading her legs for you shortly. The least you can do is to pour another glass of fortification for me while I freshen up."

While Mrs. Morgan was in her bathroom, Dan poured her another glass. "You don't seem to need any fortification, Mrs. Morgan," he yelled into her.

"True as that may be," she yelled back, "it loosens my inhibitions. And stop calling me 'Mrs. Morgan.' If you're going to fuck me, then call me 'Donna.' All my other boy-toys do."

A moment later, Mrs. Morgan appeared in the doorway, looking no different than when she went in. She again swayed her way over to the couch, but this time sat in Dan's lap, leaning back against the arm of the couch. She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the lips. "Hmm," she moaned as her tongue snaked its way past his lips, over his teeth. "You taste wonderful," she said, pulling away from him.

Dan's right hand encircled Mrs. Morgan's lithe body, and brought her close, nibbling at her neck and ear, causing her to giggle. She reached behind her for her wineglass, causing her large breasts to thrust up, and brought the glass to her red lips as Dan continued to lick and kiss her neck. His hand slid up her firm stomach and fiddled with the pearl button of her knit top; with little manipulation, it slipped through the buttonhole, the two sides of the top spreading to reveal her large breasts.

"Oh my," Dan whispered, his fingers roaming over the counters of one firm mound, brushing over the nipple. It was evident that she sunbathed in a bikini; her breasts were surrounded by a crisp tan-line. Mrs. Morgan reached behind her again to put down her wineglass; her movement caused her breast to slip from under Dan's hand. Dan looked up at her face to see her smirking at him.

"What's the matter, young man? Haven't you ever felt a girl up before?"

"Of course. They're just so amazing. I didn't expect your breasts to be. . ." Dan stopped himself.

"They're not breasts to you. They're tits. My husband calls them breasts, my fuck-toys call them tits or some other crude term. And what? You didn't expect such amazing tits on a woman my age? Didn't expect your friend's mom to have a pair of 36D's mounted to her chest? Don't worry, Dan. I'm not that old, and they're not real. My husband bought them for me, but many young men use them," she said as Dan's hand gently resumed its massaging of her left tit. Dan leaned forward and took the ever-lengthening nipple of the right monster into his mouth, sucking gently. "You needn't be so gentle, Dan. Remember, they're fake. If you break one, I'll simply get it fixed. Besides, I'm very, very nipple-sensitive. I like my nipples to be played with roughly."

Dan continued to lick Mrs. Morgan's nipples, switching from one to the next, causing her to squirm in his lap. Her right hand wormed its way around the back of his head, pulling it harder into the tit he was sucking; he could feel her long nails through his hair. Dan increased the sucking pressure on her nipple, and could hear Mrs. Morgan's breath quicken.

His right hand, which had been massaging her free tit, made its way back to her waist, taking in the texture of her tight, tanned skin, the muscles of her stomach evident beneath. It stopped only momentarily at her waist before continuing downward. Dan savored the firm-yet-supple quality of her thigh beneath her skirt. When his hand found the hem of skirt – which, with her squirming on his lap, was a very short trip – Mrs. Morgan shifted to allow Dan to pull it up further. His hands traveled along the insides of her thighs. Dan moaned into the fake tit he was nursing, marveling at the utter smoothness of her skin.

When he reached her cunt, Dan felt her intense heat first, and then the moisture coating the outer lips. Mrs. Morgan was not wearing any panties, and her cunt was shaved bald. Dan removed his mouth from the inch-long nipple, a string of his saliva connecting his lips to the engorged teat. "Always go without panties, Mrs. Morgan?" he muttered, before attaching his lips to the other nipple, sucking vigorously.

"I told you to stop calling me 'Mrs. Morgan.' And besides, I don't wear panties; only thongs. But I took them off when I was in the bathroom, to make it easier for you to get into this mommy's pussy. That's how I 'freshen up.'"

Dan's right hand continued to run along Mrs. Morgan's outer cunt lips. "I'd rather call you Mrs. Morgan. That way I know I'm fucking someone's wife." He dipped a finger inside her to gather some lubrication, and then began a gentle manipulation of her inflamed clit.

When his fingers found her bud, Dan heard a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, god," she moaned. Dan continued to rub her fiery clit and soon Mrs. Morgan was bucking on his lap, her tight ass slamming back down on his crotch, agitating his aching cock. He sucked harder on her nipple, drawing it between his teeth. "Oohh, fuuck," she hissed. "Bite it, Dan. Bite it!"

The ringing of a cell phone stopped her short. Dan recognized the ring as his, and leaned forward to grab his phone from the coffee table. Looking at the Caller ID display, he saw it was Steve. With Steve's lovely mother sitting on his lap, her massive, store-bought tits just inches from his face, Dan hit "Send" on his phone – one of the fingers that had just been inside Steve's mom's cunt did the job – and put it to his ear. "What's up," he said, looking up at Mrs. Morgan with a gleam in his eye. She mouthed the words, 'Who is it?' a questioning expression in her baby blue eyes. He didn't respond, not to her anyway. "Sounds good to me, Steve. That should be fun." Mrs. Morgan scrambled off his lap and moved to the other side of the couch. Her top was still spread, revealing the oversized breasts riding high on her torso. She pulled her top together and her skirt down in some feigned display of modesty, but Dan could still see her distended nipples poking through the top. "Uuhh, give me forty-five minutes or so. I'll meet you guys there." And he hung up the phone.

"You didn't have to answer that," she spat at him. He could see venom in her eyes.

"What's the big deal? He can't see you through the phone. You weren't talking. Calm down." Mrs. Morgan rose from the couch and topped off her wineglass, finishing the bottle. "Get back over here," Dan commanded, reaching out for her hand. With a sly smile, Mrs. Morgan set her wineglass and the bottle on the side table and again went to sit on Dan's lap. Before she could, however, Dan grabbed her hips and twisted her so she was facing away from him. He grabbed the hem of her skirt and pulled it down to her ankles. When she stepped out of the puddled garment, Dan pulled her down against him. Mrs. Morgan's firm, tanned ass planted itself on his crotch, and she looked over her shoulder at him, sweeping her long blonde hair from her eyes. "Are we getting down to business now, young man?" she taunted.

Dan reached up her torso for leverage and pulled her toward him, so she was leaning back against him. "From now on, Mrs. Morgan, I only want to hear nastiness from your filthy mouth. Got it?" She did not respond as his arms encircled her body and quickly found her giant breasts. He gently blew hot breath into her left ear as his large hands began firmly squeezing Mrs. Morgan's larger fake tits. Relaxing again, she rolled her head back on Dan's shoulder; she raised one of her arms and placed it around Dan's neck, pulling herself tighter against her son's best friend.

"So, you like fucking other men's wives? Is that it, Dan?" she murmured into his ear. Dan's hands remained on her tits, squeezing and kneading them. He pushed them together and stared amazed into the cleavage of this married slut. His thumb and forefinger on each hand found her nipples, and gently squeezed, causing her to gasp in pleasure.

"Absolutely," he breathed. "There's nothing sluttier than a cheating housewife." He increased the pressure on her nipples, alternately pinching and twisting them. Mrs. Morgan stopped gasping, and began panting and bucking her hips up and down, slamming her fit ass onto Dan's still-clothed cock.

"Then there . . . you have it. . . . I told you . . . I was the . . . biggest slut . . . Winnetka has ever . . . seen." After a few more minutes of this nipple play, Dan allowed one hand to slide – ever so slowly – down Mrs. Morgan's taut stomach. He slowed his advance even more when he reached the hairless outer region, and Mrs. Morgan begged. "Please," she whimpered. "Please rub my clit. I need to cum."

Dan's fingers continued their advance towards Mrs. Morgan's glistening cunt and her burning clit. He let two fingers slide across her lips, straddling and consciously avoiding her clit. She whimpered some more. He dipped a finger, then a second, between her splayed cunt lips, again lubricating them with her copious fluids. Extracting them from her hot, unfaithful hole, Dan allowed his fingers to slide back up and make contact with her clit. Mrs. Morgan shuddered at the contact, and Dan felt her pull herself closer to him as her hips bucked up, trying to increase the pressure on her swollen clit. Dan did it for her, increasing both the pressure and speed at which his fingers danced over her exposed bud. His other hand maintained its vigil on one of her nipples, pinching, pulling, twisting.

Mrs. Morgan's breathing increased, and she began to moan, her head lolling back and forth. She was starting to sweat, and her hair clung to Dan's cheek each time her head rolled against his.

Dan sensed that Mrs. Morgan was nearing orgasm when she suddenly clasped a dainty, manicured hand over the hand that was rubbing her cunt. "Enough," she breathed. "I don't want to cum yet. I need something in me. Fuck me." Mrs. Morgan tried to climb off Dan's lap, but he held her tight.

"I'm not even undressed yet," he whispered hotly into her ear, reaching for the wine bottle that stood on the side table. "But I'll get something in you, you fuckin' slut."

Mrs. Morgan saw Dan reach for the wine bottle, and let out a low, guttural laugh. "My, my. You are a perverted young man, aren't you?" she asked rhetorically. Holding the bottle about halfway down the neck, Dan brought it between her legs and let the top part of the neck nestle between her sopping cunt lips. He slid it up and down to lubricate it, occasionally angling the mouth against her clit. Each time the now-warm glass nudged against her distended clit, she shuddered and let loose a soft whimper.

"Put it in me, Dan," she whispered, her face buried now in the crook of his neck, her red-painted lips brushing against his ear, blowing hot breath. "Slide that bottle into my cheating cunt." Dan could feel her sweat drip down her back and begin to moisten his shirt. He slowly lowered the bottle down her slick cunt lips until he felt the mouth sink a little between her lips, then slowly pulled it up and into her tight cunt. Mrs. Morgan gasped at the penetration. He twisted the bottle a little, working it into the adulterous hole. When he felt his hand bump up against her outer lips, he removed his right hand from Mrs. Morgan's tortured nipple and grabbed lower down the bottle.

His right hand now forcing the wine bottle further into Mrs. Morgan's cunt, his left hand found the nipple his right had been abusing. The significant lubrication still remaining on his fingers soothed the red-hot nipple, and Mrs. Morgan sighed in what almost sounded like relief.

When Dan had about six or seven inches of the bottle jammed in Mrs. Morgan's cunt – when her hole was stretched out about as far as it would go without causing either pain or damage – he began a slow in-and-out motion, quickening his pace with each stroke. Soon, Mrs. Morgan's slim hips were bucking wildly against the bottle, and her breathing increased to a feverish tempo. Sweat poured more freely from her body now; looking down past her jutting tits, Dan could see a slight sheen of perspiration layering her tight stomach and lithe legs.

"Oh, god, oh, god. I'm going to cum. Keep going, Dan. Just like that! Yes, yes, yes!" Mrs. Morgan's body stiffened, and her thrusting came to an abrupt halt. Her back arched up and away from him. Her grip around his neck increased, threatening to cut off his air supply. Dan could feel her cunt muscles trying to pull more of the bottle inside her. After eight or nine seconds, Mrs. Morgan's body slammed back down against Dan's, her body now relaxed from the orgasm that had overcome her. Dan could tell that the orgasm continued; the bottle lodged deep in her cunt continued to move and undulate with no input from him. "Jesus Christ," she breathed through clenched teeth. "Uuugghhh."

Mrs. Morgan finally relaxed completely; Dan could feel her hot, sweaty body go limp against him, and her stranglehold on his neck slackened. Her lips found his ear and she blew hot breath, sending a shiver up Dan's spine. "You are so fucking naughty, Dan. I wish I would have known sooner; I would have been fucking you when you were in high school," she whispered.

"Statutory rape, Mrs. Morgan," he whispered back, pulling the bottle from her sloppy cunt and letting it fall to the floor. "You think Steve seeing you in Gibson's tonight would have been embarrassing. Imagine getting cuffed for fucking a teenager," Dan said, the fingers of his right hand gently manipulating her burning clit while those of his left continued to toy with one of her nipples.

"Hasn't happened yet." Mrs. Morgan lifted herself from Dan's lap and dropped to her knees before the couch, slipping her sleeveless top off, letting it fall to the ground behind her. On her haunches now, she reached for the zipper on his pants, and Dan enjoyed the firm, gelatin-feel of her tits as they squished against his knees. He instantly spread his legs to give her access. Dan watched as her French-manicured nails found his zipper, expertly pulling it down. She used her thumb and forefinger to release the button above the zipper, and parted the tops of his pants. She raised herself off her haunches, and smiled lewdly up at him.

"Can I play with your cock, young man?" Without waiting for an answer, Mrs. Morgan's hand snaked inside his boxers. Dan moaned and closed his eyes as he felt her long, cool fingers wrap around his overheated cock. But as soon as she had made contact, she removed her hand. She tugged hard at Dan's pants, and he got the hint. As he lifted his rear off the cushion, Mrs. Morgan pulled his pants and boxers down in one, clean effort. She bent further down to pull off his shoes and slid the pants over his feet, but her eyes never left the cock that stood upright, waiting for her attention.

Having cast Dan's pants aside, Mrs. Morgan moved again between his legs. Her left hand encircled the erect shaft. She appeared to be studying it; her eyes were looking right at Dan's face, but he could tell her focus was elsewhere. "God, I love young cock," she said, almost to herself. Her hand began to slowly jerk his cock up and down; Dan could feel her wedding rings catch on the ridges of his cock. It turned him on immensely, and Mrs. Morgan's eyes went wide when the head of his cock turned instantly purple. "You're not coming yet?" she said sternly.

Dan could barely speak. "Of course . . . not. I'm not done . . . with you yet."

"Good," she replied with an evil grin. She then spit a wad of saliva at the head of Dan's cock. When it began to drip down the shaft, she used her long, elegant fingers to smooth it around, and began violently shucking his cock up and down, staring with rapt attention as Dan's cockhead again turned that angry shade of purple. "Hmmm. Interesting," she murmured.

"What," Dan choked out.

"Well," she said, tilting her head from side to side, examining the engorged shaft in her hand, "usually, the tip gets purple and shiny and bloated right before it cums. Are you gonna cum just from a hand job, young man?" she asked in a reprimanding voice. Dan just shook his head. "What is it then?" She let up her ferocious stroking of his cock to give Dan a chance to answer, and looked Dan straight in the eyes.

But he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were focused on the hand that tightly gripped the base of his shaft, pre-cum dripping over it, coating her wedding rings. "It's your rings," Dan panted. "Seeing your hand wrapped around my cock, with your wedding rings, drives me up a fucking wall."

A wicked grin crossed Mrs. Morgan's face as she immediately resumed the brutal handjob she was giving her son's best friend. "Really," she said, drawing it out. "So I just need to make sure I keep my hand just . . . like . . . this . . ." she rotated her hand around his cock so her four-carat engagement ring faced him, "and I can keep your cock on the edge of cumming all night?" Dan groaned and his body started to quake, but Mrs. Morgan maintained her rapid stroking of the young cock. "Bottles, wedding rings. There's no question: you are a real pervert, young man." She felt his cock begin to twitch in her hand, and she quickly released it, not wanting him to cum just yet. She let his breathing return somewhat to normal, and waited for some of the purple to drain from his cock.

Then, with no warning, Mrs. Morgan dipped her head and took the first two or three inches of Dan's cock in her hot, inviting mouth. Holding the root of the shaft between the fingers of her left hand, she bobbed her head up and down, taking more of the shaft in her scorching mouth with each turn. Occasionally, she would pause, and bathe the cockhead with her tongue, relishing the flavor of his pre-cum washing over her tongue. But at all times, she made sure her engagement and wedding rings were staring Dan in the face; she even moved them around, hoping the light from the nightstand would catch them and cause them to sparkle for him.

Under her continued ministrations, Dan's breathing increased, and his chest heaved up and down, raggedly. Saliva poured from Mrs. Morgan's mouth, almost cascading down the length of Dan's shaft, soaking and matting his pubic hair; her rings were awash in the combined fluids from her mouth and his cock.

Sensing he was about to cum in her mouth, Mrs. Morgan removed her crimson lips from his cock, and got to her feet. "Come with me, young man. Let's finish this in the bedroom. I want to feel this cock," she said, tugging gently on the stiff rod, "punishing my married hole."

With Mrs. Morgan pulling on his shaft, Dan could hardly ignore her command. He rose from the couch and followed her as she padded into the suite's bedroom, watching her tanned ass sway from side to side. As she approached the bed, Dan caught up with her. Stepping right up against her ass when she was the foot of the bed, his cock jamming itself between her ass cheeks, Dan wrapped one hand around her waist and, with his other hand, bent her over the bed.