Mafia Desire (Erotica)

Gerald watched her dress. When she was nearly finished he said, “I was hoping we would spend the day together.”

Joyce looked at him with conflicted feelings. Yes, spending the day with the man who’d just made love to you was the usual thing to do; but she just wasn’t used to the intense intimacy they’d just shared.

“Oh, Gerald,” she said pleadingly, “I just have to process this whole thing. I–I wasn’t expecting this to happen.” Well, I kind of was–or maybe I was hoping it would happen but didn’t think it would.

“Neither was I,” he said laconically.

She eyed him closely. What are you saying?–that I jumped your bones? You were a pretty willing participant, my man!

“Well, I just need to be alone for a little bit. But we’d love to have you over for dinner tonight.”

“We?”

“My daughter and me. I definitely want you to meet her.”

“I want to meet her too.”

“Okay, then, it’s set. Please come by around six o’clock and we’ll have a lovely meal.”

And with that, she declined Gerald’s offer to drive her home, called a taxi, and pretty soon was stepping into her own house again.

Waiting for her like a hawk was Hilary.

Almost before she’d fully gotten into the door she said, “Well, Mom, how was it?”

“Hilary, please, let me at least get settled!” Joyce cried, taking an exaggeratedly long time putting her thin wrap on the coatrack. “Anyway, I’m not sure I want to tell you anything. It’s between me and Gerald, you know.”

“Oh, come on, Mom!” Hilary said, bouncing up and down with excitement. “You gotta tell me something! How many times did you do it?”

Joyce scowled at her daughter. “What makes you think we did it more than once?”

“You said so!”

“I did not!”

“Well, you said you thought you might do some more. You called me after he’d already put his cock into your pussy, right?”

“For God’s sake, Hilary, do you have to be so vulgar?”

“Mom, I’m just curious.”

“For your information, we did it twice more.”

“Three times in all?” Hilary almost shouted, spinning around the living room like a dervish. “He came three times?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Isn’t that–unusual?”

“Most men can’t come more than once at a time. Some can do it twice. Three times is pretty exceptional.”

“Your pussy must really be sore!”

Joyce blanched as she remained silent. When Hilary looked questioningly at her, Joyce grudgingly said, “It wasn’t just there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that he came once in my mouth.”

“Okay, that makes two times. What about the third?”

Joyce swallowed hard. “There’s another place in a woman’s body,” she said carefully, “where a man can put his thing.”

Hilary thought for a moment; then her eyes got wide. “Into your butt?”

“Yes, into my butt.”

“Omigod!” she exclaimed, a rising inflection on that last syllable. “That’s so–so twisted!”

“Oh, Hilary, it’s not. Lots of people do it.”

“Yeah, gay men do it!”

“Straight couples do it too.”

“You mean you’ve done it before?”

“Um, yes.”

“With Daddy?”

“No, not with Daddy.”

“So . . . somebody before Daddy?”

“Yes.”

“And you like it?”

“Well, it takes some getting used to, but I guess I do like it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just do.”

Hilary shook her head. “Okay, whatever. So now what? Are you going to see him again?”

“Well, of course. In fact, he’s coming for dinner.”

“Oh, boy! That’s great! I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Just keep yourself under control. And don’t let him know that I’ve told you all this. He might get offended.”

“Oh, I’m an adult, you know.”

Joyce rolled her eyes. Right: an adult by a few weeks.

It was, however, Joyce who had trouble keeping herself under control as the time came for Gerald to show up for dinner. She flitted about the kitchen in a tizzy, trying to make sure that the steak dinner was perfect in every way. Men like steak, don’t they? Hilary watched her with more than a little amusement as she reflected: Gee, so this is what happens with a grown woman gets a cock stuck into her–multiple times–by a new man.

When Gerald arrived, a few minutes early, the reception he was given was . . . interesting.

Joyce opened the door to let him in, and she allowed him only the briefest little peck on the mouth, knowing that Hilary was watching the two of them intently. As she ushered him into the living room, she gestured toward the other person in the room and said, “This is my daughter, Hilary.”

Hilary’s eyes widened as she saw the tall, handsome man who had just filtered into their lives. At first she approached daintily, extending a hand as if to shake Gerald’s; but then, impulsively, she let out a little squeal and jumped into his arms, wrapping her own arms tightly around his neck and giving him sloppy kisses on his neck. Gerald, taken aback, was forced to hold Hilary–who was a diminutive five foot two–by her thighs.

In fact, because she was wearing a pretty short skirt that rode up as she made her leap, Gerald’s hands unwittingly slipped under the hem of her skirt, so that his hands came perilously close to her bottom.

“Jesus Christ, Hilary, what are you doing?” Joyce almost screamed.

But Hilary didn’t answer, kissing and even licking Gerald’s neck, cheeks, and throat as if she were a big cat welcoming its master home after a long absence. Gerald, flummoxed, looked over Hilary’s shoulder at Joyce, silently saying: What exactly am I to do with this creature?

Joyce, sensing his question, said, “Gerald, please put her down.”

But that proved easier said than done. Hilary just wouldn’t let him go. After several awkward moments, he placed one hand frankly on her butt while with the other he pried away her arms from around his neck. She let out an irritated little whine as she climbed down from her mother’s boyfriend and landed back on the floor.

Joyce, crimson with shame and embarrassment, was resolutely determined to pretend that this incident had never happened. She led Gerald to the sideboard of the dining room, offering him a cocktail while pointedly glaring at Hilary, who seemed to think that she deserved one too. “Go get a soft drink,” she hissed.

But the dinner proved to be a success, as everyone–especially Gerald–enjoyed the meal hugely. There was a store-bought cherry pie that Joyce served with coffee, and afterward everyone sat in the living room and listened to some nice classical music (one of Mozart’s piano concerti) while chatting amiably.

The time seemed to fly, and Joyce was startled to find that it was just past 10 p. m. She hoped Gerald could stay a bit longer, and was filled with terror when he seemed to be making efforts to extricate himself from Hilary–who had snuggled up next to him on the sofa–when Hilary said to him, “Say, are you going to spend the night?”

There was a deep and abiding silence.

“I don’t think I–” Gerald began.

“I don’t mind,” Hilary said brightly. “I can put on earplugs. You two can do whatever you want and I won’t hear a thing.”

More silence.

“Come on, guys,” Hilary said with a broad smile. “I won’t mind. Or maybe”–she said teasingly as she looked up at the only man in the room–“you’re a bit . . . tired?” From banging my mom over and over again last night?

“Hilary, I warn you–” Joyce said menacingly.

“Oh, Mom, I’m just kidding. And really, it doesn’t make a difference to me. And tomorrow’s Sunday, so no one has to work. Look, guy,” she went on, again giving Gerald a wide-eyed glance, “I don’t suppose you brought a change of clothing. But I have some underwear you can wear tomorrow.”

“Hilary, what on earth are you talking about?” Joyce snapped. “He couldn’t possibly fit into one of your panties.”

Hilary slapped her forehead as if she was talking to an idiot. “Mom, it’s not mine. It’s one of Daddy’s.”

Once more, a profound silence.

“You–you kept some of Daddy’s underwear?” Joyce whispered, appalled.

“Sure. Just as a memento. Anyway, it seemed a shame to throw it all away. It’s one of these boxer briefs. Is that what you wear?”

“Um, yes,” Gerald croaked.

“Great. It should fit–you and Daddy are pretty much the same build. So how about it, guy?”

Gerald, a fractured smile frozen on his lips, looked from mother to daughter. “Well, with an offer like that, how can I refuse?”

“Great!” Hilary cried jubilantly. “Off you go–no time like the present.”

Both Gerald and Joyce got up stiffly and, without a backward glance at the young woman on the sofa, made their way up the stairs and drifted into the master bedroom.

Hilary, chuckling, whiled away the time doing not much of anything in the living room, then sauntered up the stairs herself. It had been more than half an hour since the older folks had gone up, and Hilary quietly approached the door of the master bedroom and put her ear on it. She noticed telltale signs–groans, sighs, even a high-pitched whimper that had to be from Joyce, although Hilary had never heard that exact sound coming from her mother–that made it clear what was going on in there. Nodding to herself in quiet satisfaction, she went to her own room.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

There, she undressed. Picking up her nightgown, she came close to slipping it on over her head, then decided against it. Flopping naked on the bed, she lay flat on her back, her legs spread and knees raised in the classic missionary position, took hold of her pillow (a large one, almost the size of a man’s trunk), and placed it on top of herself. While she pasted kisses on the pillow where the man’s face would be, she slipped one hand down between her legs and alternately pumped herself–placing as many as four fingers into her vagina, which was already sopping wet–and stroked her clitoris. Sometimes she grabbed her butt, which was unusually sensitive.

She hoped to drag out this procedure to prolong her pleasure, but to her surprise she sensed an orgasm emerging from her pussy in a matter of minutes. Her legs twitched spasmodically as the climax spread all over her body. She pressed the pillow more firmly against herself, especially over her face, so that her own cries wouldn’t be heard down the hall. Even so, her moans and squeals might have been audible in the master bedroom–were it not for the fact that the cries in that room were themselves getting louder in spite of the occupants’ attempts to suppress them.