You're Nobody ... Ch. 02

You’re Nobody ‘til Somebody Loves You

By Paris Waterman

Chapter 2

I met the entire family rather formally at dinner. Mrs. Klugman was friendlier; at least I got that impression. I had made it a point to complement her dress, which wasn’t a problem because it was a sensational outfit, and it looked very good on her. She insisted I call her Sheila and not Mrs. Klugman, and then regaled me with how difficult it had been to find the dress.
Warren was still overly concerned about my hand, more so when I admitted that it had started to throb.

“The medication must have worn off,” he said to the glass of scotch in his hand.

I nodded and picked up my own, well filled glass and sipped. “Mmmm, good medicine on its own, Warren,” I said, thanking him for allowing me to share in what was undoubtedly an expensive blend.
“It’s something called Royal Salute,” he said sagely. “It costs $700 a fifth. The company no longer exists. They were bought out maybe twenty years ago, but they had some barrels left that were aged 25 years before bottling. If you know anything about scotch you’ll distinguish the difference right away.”

I didn’t know all that much about scotch, but the smoothness and texture of the liquid in my glass was far superior to anything I’d ever sampled. Of course the only ‘good’ scotch I’d ever had was some 12 year old Johnny Walker Red. But, hey, anyone looking at the Mona Lisa for the first time knows its special, right?

“So you bought several bottles, eh?”

“No, I bought two barrels,” Klugman said, telling me he was worth a lot more than I thought he was. “The fellow who owned them had no idea of their value. It was a steal, you ask me.”

Other than a curiosity on how their father could possibly run over my hand, not once but twice, Noreen and Johnny had little to say to me, acting as typical teen agers, eating their food and requesting permission to leave the table as soon as possible.

Consuela

I was waiting for her, already naked, behind the door. I shut it as soon as Consuela entered the room, and without saying a word, began kissing her.

Consuela was already aroused, and after our heated kisses ended, ran her hands down the sides of her body, stopped at her waist, stroked the soft curves of the hips. The body in front of me had changed; it was tauter, it glowed under her touch. She was cradling those magnificent globes with her hands, already imagining my hands playing with her nipples.

“Did you enjoy your dinner, Mr. Homeless?”

“I did, now it’s time for my dessert.”

Consuela laughed wantonly as I took first one, then the other nipple in my mouth and sucked while gently massaging each breast in turn with my one good hand.

Watching her face, I saw the desire peak in her eyes and clasping her hand in mine, guided her fingers, entwined with my own, deep inside her. Then I raised her fingers to my mouth and mine to hers; together we tasted her arousal.

Again, I led our hands back under her skirt and inside her. Holding Consuela that way, I walked her across the room to the bed. After extracting my fingers, I slowly unbuttoned her blouse and caressed her braless breasts, leaving a trace of her scent on them as my hands moved up to her throat and through her hair.

Consuela was moaning softly as we made love for the first time, me naked, her fully clothed. When we finished, I undressed her and screwed her slowly, making quiet sounds as we coupled on the bed. When I came we were kissing, tongues tangled, lips pressed hard against lips sealing our screams of rapture within our mouths.

After a brief pause, I went down on her, and it surprised her that I would do so.

“You lick your own cum,” she said breathlessly.
“No wan does that… do they?”

“I do, it’s mine, so why not?”

“Why not… es okay, I really like your mouth on me, Mr. Homeless. I haven’t had sex this good ever.”

I stopped short of asking her to put that testimonial in writing, accepting it as something said in the heat of passion.

When we were certain we would not try another fuck, she put on her clothes and went to the mirror to fix her hair and makeup. She saw at once that her hair was different, fuller, shinier, and that her skin was smoother.

After pointing this out to me, she asked if I thought the others in the house might notice.
“Keep clear of Mrs. Klugman,” I said, “she might notice, I wouldn’t worry about the others.

Day Two

The following morning at breakfast, it was just Warren and me, with Consuela serving us and intentionally brushing those huge mammaries against my shoulder or arm at every opportunity. Since Warren’s face was buried in the Times, I wasn’t bothered by her actions, even grabbing her upper thigh and giving it a loving squeeze on one occasion.

After we finished, Warren and I got into his Mercedes and drove off to his place of work. It was a sultry day, with every conceivable smell hitting our nostrils as we passed by several markets clustered together on, or just off Wilshire Boulevard.

He stopped at one and I guess because I was freshly showered (for the fifth time since arriving at Klugman’s) that I noticed the wide variety of sweat and musky odors on the men working the stalls that seemed to comingle with the smells of fruit and vegetables. I sniffed continuously, enjoying the varied odors like the sharp citrus tang of oranges both sliced and smashed for juice. And the almost dizzying fumes from mounds of bruised and broken-skinned tomatoes, overripe plums and bananas and melons. I realized I had been wearing the same filthy clothing for so long that my nose had been clogged with my own fetid odor, denying me those other, everyday smells that delight the olfactory senses.

At his request, I sat in the car, listening to the Stones on a CD while he took care of a pressing matter. It took fifteen minutes, and then we were off to Rodeo Drive and Giorgio Armani’s where we were greeted like VIP’s, and I was fitted for three suits, all of which cost more than three thousand bucks.

Yes, I protested, but I knew Warren wasn’t buying it. He was buying me the suits and a couple of sport jackets from Hugo Boss, a couple blocks down. Then we headed back to his office.

I mentioned earlier that Klugman was a logistics guru, handling the major portion of international shipments by most of the Fortune 500. And that’s what the topic of conversation was as we tooled down Wilshire toward his office.

He happily confided that Sheila had made a favorable comment about me the night before. I attributed it to my telling her how good she looked in that elegant dress she’d worn to dinner.
“She’s okay most of the time, you know,” he said as we turned off Wilshire. “But at forty two, she’s worried about sagging tits and extra poundage in her ass. You know the usual women’s problems.”

“I knew what he was talking about weren’t exactly women problems, but more of husbandly neglect. Warren had as much as told me, Sheila Klugman needed a good fucking, and I filed that thought away for the moment.

As soon as we walked into Warren’s office I saw the girl he was stupping there. She was young, I guessed about 20, maybe 21, with light brown hair sitting at what had to be the receptionist’s desk; although it lacked a modesty shield, something almost every woman required before settling down to work.

The reason for a common demand for modesty shields was made evident by the view I had watching the young lady tug at her short skirt as she attempted to hide the lacy tops of the nude-colored seamed stockings that apparently clipped to off-white garters.

“Good morning, Allison, Klugman spouted good-naturedly.

“Good morning, Mr. Klugman,” she replied.

Gesturing at me, Klugman said, “This is Mr. _____, a good friend. I’d like you to um, entertain him while I made a couple phone calls to some clients. I, um, I’ll be at least forty-five minutes.”

“Yes Sir,” Allison said, looking down at her desktop.

Klugman smiled at me and left us alone. I continued standing in place. Whatever Allison was supposed to do she’d either do or not do, and so I waited.

It wasn’t long before Allison shifted uncomfortably in her chair. My eyes remained fixed on her legs. Secure in the knowledge that Klugman was banging her, I didn’t bother to disguise my staring.

She couldn’t bring herself to meet my eyes, or challenge me in any way. She did attempt to tug the skirt down an inch or two, but that did nothing to conceal the fact that her stockings were visible to me. A minute passed, and then another. The forty-five minutes Klugman had mentioned he’d be on the phone, loomed longer and longer.

Three minutes into the standoff, Allison risked a glance upward to see if I was still staring at her legs under the desk.

I was.

A flush began creeping up her neck and kept going until it covered her face. I could only guess where the flush had started and raised my eyes from her thighs to her chest.

Bingo!

Hardened nips were now visible through her pink tank top.

I decided to have some fun with her.

“It’s Allison, isn’t it?” I asked friendly-like.

“Yes, it is, Mr. ______.”

“Are you wearing panties or a thong… or nothing at all?”

Allison looked around, saw we were the only ones in the reception area and cleared her throat before answering. “Might I ask, just how well do you know Mr. Klugman?”

“You might say I owe my life to him, Allison. Does that help?”

At that she began to squirm in her chair. I was making the young thing uncomfortable.

“You’re joking, aren’t you?” she said.

“Joking, in what regard, Allison?”

“About what I’m wearing… you know….”

“Or not wearing? Is that what you mean?”

“Yes,” she replied with a grimace.

“No, I’m quite serious. Mr. Klugman made it a point to have me ask.”

“You’re not serious!” Her face reddened even more at this.

Changing tact, I said, “Are you aware that from the way you’re sitting I can see not only your stockings but the line of your thong running up the crack of your ass?”

Allison stood up. Outrage at my remark obvious on her face, but I had to give her credit, she kept most of her composure. “How dare you!”

“I just told you, Kluggie and I are bestest friends,” and gave her my best, and most sincere smile.

“Go to hell! I don’t have to take this shit from anyone!” she barked out in indignation.

“No you certainly don’t. So why are you still standing here?”

I don’t know what possessed me to push her this hard. Perhaps it was pure instinct, but I soon discovered that poor Allison didn’t know what to do with me.

She sat back down, giving me a flash of white thronged crotch when she bounced up from her chair from the force of sitting so hard.

“Thank you, Allison,” I said and turned away from her, found myself a comfy looking chair that wasn’t directly in line with her desk and sat down.

“What?” she said, completely flummoxed by my actions.

“I said, Thank You.”

“What for?”

“For showing me your white thong. “

“I did no such thing!”

“Then how do I know it’s white?”

“You guessed…you couldn’t know unless….”

“Unless?”

“Go to hell!”

“Someday, probably, but not today… I hope.”

Allison found some busy work and dedicated herself to it, ignoring me completely until Klugman emerged from his office.

“We’ll be leaving for the rest of the afternoon, Allison. If anything important comes up, you can reach me on my cell.”

“Yes sir, Mr. Klugman,” she responded efficiently.
He gave her a puzzled glance, and then addressed me. “Those suits will be ready by now.”

“Really?” I said, finding it unlikely.

“For what I’m paying, they damn well better be,” he said and we got into his Mercedes and headed directly to the tailor’s.

My clothing was ready. Warren insisted I try each one on. They were tailored to perfection. I had never looked better.

From the tailor’s he took me to a men’s salon, where I got my first decent haircut in over a year. He also had them provide me with a pedicure and a manicure, and while I was being fussed over, Kluggie made a return trip to the office, where he and Allison had themselves an afternoon quickie.

I know this because Kluggie told me so.

“Some looker that Allison, eh?” he said for openers.

“Very much so,” I said, and then added, I happened to get a glimpse of her legs under the desk. You really should get her a modesty panel.”

He laughed, “She told me you gave her a hard time.”

“No Warren, I think it was you gave her a hard time.”

That really cracked him up. “I did, my man, I really did. And by the way, if you handle her right, you can have a shot at Consuela.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” I replied.

“No, she’s a real hot tamale, believe you me.”

“Oh, I believe you, Warren. Maybe I will give her a shot.” Of course I was already thinking about how and where I would take my sweet Latin maid on returning to the house.

Warren made it even easier for me. “The wife watches her favorite shows on the TV from 8 to 10 without fail tonight. Your room’s kind of isolated upstairs, get her to come in and have at it.”

“Are you certain, Warren?”

“Been there, done that a hundred times,” he said as if he were a man of the world, if only he knew just how big the real world was.

Ride, Consuela Ride!

Warren dropped me off at the house and returned to work; perhaps he’d even do something constructive before jumping Allison’s bones again. But I had to admit I liked the way Klugman kept himself busy during the day. Later on I’d give some thought to what he did during his evenings, since Mrs. K seemed to be in need of a good fucking.

The house appeared to be empty, but I knew better. Consuela had to be performing her maidly duties somewhere in the huge home, and so I went looking for her.

I found her lounging in what had to be her own little room. I tried hard not to stare at her, but lust is so very difficult to override and I gave it up. Consuela was wearing a short, black silk robe with a dragon emblazoned in red on the back. She was absolutely radiant in it, her long black hair, light brown skin and dark eyes. Watching her, I completely lose my train of thought….

“Oh, Mr. Homeless, you are back….” She whispered, and I can’t tell if that’s a good sign or not.

Making no attempt to hide the bulge in my newly tailored trousers, (I’m calling them trousers because they cost a hell of a lot more than a pair of pants.) I moved toward the Latin beauty and placed my hands on the backs of her thighs.

Yes, the robe was that short.

She gasped when I slid my hands up her butt and under the robe. I decided it was one of pleasure and not objection, and hooked my thumbs under the elastic band of her white panties and pulled them down her well-muscled slim young legs.

“You… you take advantage of me!” she said in a voice gone raspy and dry.

“Yes,” I said in answer, “But you will enjoy what I’m about to do.”

“How you know this?”

Giving her no time to protest, my hands left her ass, found her huge tits and began squeezing them in a pleasurable fashion; not that she was showing any desire to. I enveloped her right nipple in my hot, hungry mouth and swirled my tongue over and around the delicate morsel.

With the first moan from her throat, I let go of the other breast and went right for her wet warmth of her snatch.

“Ooooh, I like that!” Consuela sighed and wrapped her arms around my neck and held herself tightly against my sucking mouth while her hips began their now expected rocking motion, pushing her sensitive clitoris and very moist labia against my eager exploring fingers. I moved my attention to her other nipple while Consuela rode my fingers to her first orgasm.

“You… you take advantage of me because I’m just a servant.”

“But you do like what I’m doing, no?”

Of course as I uttered the words my hand was pounding into her with a renewed vigor, and another orgasm appeared eminent.

I knew this because poor Consuela had lost the powers of coherent speech.

“Ugh… ugh… ugh!” Was all that I could distinguish, and so I continued, (I had four fingers sloshing around in there at the time) until she moaned loudly, even while biting down on a pillow to keep the noise down.

“Madre Mia!” Consuela gasped as I popped her turgid nipple from my mouth with a loud popping sound.

“You like?”

Her eyes flashed open. For more than a few seconds she was disorientated, and then she responded: “Si… I like mucho… I mean I like very much. You want to fuck me now?”

Consuela confirmed the fact by rolling over on her back and tweaking her nipples until they grew another half inch.

I took them into my mouth, giving each a fair amount of time. While I was occupied with her nips, Consuela’s hand drifted down to her crotch and began twisting the thick mat of hair there.

I waited patiently for her to tell me to slip my meat to her.

I’m pretty sure she was about to cum again when she drew back her legs and pointed to her cunt.

It wasn’t a smoke signal, but I got the message and plowed right into her.

“YES!” she all but roared out. I was hoping we were still alone in the house.

I know I have a righteous dick. It’s got this mushroom head, with a narrow shaft that widened as it neared the base. It’s long, over seven inches, and I’ve gotten covetous glances from men almost every time I whip it out in a men’s room. But Consuela later told me, in broken English, that if she hadn’t known better, she would have sworn a woman designed mine.

She tried to raise her hips to meet me but I held her in place, teasing her as I inched it back and forth so slowly that she was going crazy beating the bed with her fists as she strove to get off. Eventually she resorted to wrapping those lovely legs of hers around me, more or less holding me deep inside her.

Then she started using her muscles to squeeze my dick tighter and tighter inside her, trying to coax me into moving faster.

I knew what she wanted, and after forcing my hand between us, began to roll a thumb over her clit.
She moaned happily.

And I started to slam it to her.

The stimulation was overwhelming; every muscle in her pussy grabbed at my cock, trying to hold it in place as she started to cum. I was almost in sync with her and a split second later the first warm shots of my load splashed forcefully against her vaginal walls.

I collapsed on top of her with a loud groan; Consuela’s splayed legs dangled over the edge of the mattress. I could see the tunnel into her womb and watched as my jizm oozed out because she couldn't quite get her legs closed.

It only took another minute to get firm enough for another round of fucking. Consuela was surprised when I slapped her on the ass and told her to get on top of me.

It may sound strange, but I think it was the first time she had ever been a top. But as we took off I knew it wouldn’t be her last.

“Ride me Consuela!” I croaked happily as she guided my dick into her hot pussy. And when she found the right rhythm for her it was amazing. Her breasts hardly moved at all, but her nipples were like the sign posts of her desire. She was exerting herself and sweating freely. It would bead up on her neck and dribble down through her cleavage on the way to her belly button. It was a pool of sweat.

I started flexing my back and started chanting and she joined me. I said anything that came into my head and soon the same things were coming out of our mouths. I came twice and she was still coming when she rolled off of me and curled into a ball on the bed.

“No mas! No mas!” she groaned. “I still cumming!”

I crawled over and whispered in her ear, “One more time, lover, one more time.”

Then to show I was serious, I bit her neck and slowly kissed my way to her ass. She was giggling as I bit her ass cheeks. She shrieked when I licked across her asshole but by then she was on her knees and wiggling her butt around.