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Mrs. Daniels for City Council

Category: Mature
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Patterson and I had just ordered a pizza when his phone rang. He glanced at the Caller ID window and looked up as the waitress brought us a pitcher of beer.

“Sorry, dude,” he said. “I need to take this one. It’s Mom.”

He looked away and lowered his voice as he turned his attention to the call. I tried to pretend I was suddenly interested in the clever “Go Tigers!” declarations hanging on the walls of Sal’s Pizza.

He had no way of knowing, but whatever privacy Patterson needed to confer with his mom was far more awkward for me than it was for him. His mom and I had a little … well, let’s say, history, dating back a couple of years to Thanksgiving …

“Hey, man, she wants to talk to you, too,” Patterson said, suddenly.

I tried to act nonchalant, but I swear my face had to have been telling the world all my dirty secrets.

“Me?” I said. “Um, ok.”

I took the phone and gave a tentative “Hello?”

“Hi, Jack, it’s Elizabeth Daniels,” she said. “It’s been awhile, I know. But I wondered if I might ask a huge favor.”

“Um, sure, Mrs. Daniels,” I heard myself saying. “What’s up?”

“I’m having a campaign fundraiser next weekend at the Arts Centre here,” she said. “It’s that dreaded time when I have to shake hands and smile and make vague promises in hopes of holding onto my City Council seat.

“I wondered if I could recruit you and Patteson to help me out as servers. Money is always tight for these things, and I could really use some extra hands. I’ll try to make it up to both of you with a victory party after the election and the rest of this crap are all behind us. It would mean a lot to me. Do you think you could give me a hand?”

Patterson looked at me hopefully. I guess he figured the only thing worse than playing butler to a bunch of small-town bigwigs would be having to go it alone.

“C’mon, man,” he said. “Don’t make me do this by myself.”

Sometimes I can hardly believe what kind of trouble my mouth gets myself into.

“Um, sure,” I said. “Ok. Sounds like fun.”

Mrs. Daniels laughed.

“I can assure you the fundraiser will be anything but fun for any of us,” she said. “But

it’ll open your eyes a little more to local politics. Patterson says you’re still set on becoming a city planner … maybe even a manager.”

She paused for a beat.

“And it would mean the world to me. Thanks, Jack.”

We hung up and dug into the pizza. Patterson looked relieved.

“Hey, thanks, man,” he said. “My mom tries to play down how important public office really is to her, but Dad and I are proud of her. She’s taken some tough stands, and God knows, I wouldn’t have the stomach to listen to all the crap she gets. I’d have a hard time thinking of a lonelier position in Greenville than the one she has.”

“No problem, man,” I said. “Beats sitting in the apartment all weekend, anyway.”


Well, at least we didn’t have to wear monkey suits. Just the black slacks and black shirts that all the trendy waiters wear these days.

Patterson stationed himself at the beverage table, pouring wine and opening beers. His girlfriend Susan and I hustled back and forth with trays of drinks and hors d’oeuvres. Mrs. Daniels caught up with the three of us early into the evening.

“I can’t thank you guys enough for doing this,” she said. “We have the hall until 10, but I don’t think many people will stay that late.”

She looked classy — and hot — as always. A nice suit, white blouse. No cleavage or anything, but her curves gave the skirt and jacket plenty of contour. It had been two years since I had seen her, and I was certainly enjoying the view.

Patterson and Susan went back to work, and Mrs. Daniels gave me a secret smile.

I blushed a little, but smiled back.

“So, is Mr. Daniels here?” I asked.

“Oh, god, no,” she said. “He hates these things with a passion. He’s always been very supportive of my career, but he draws the line at the shmooze festivities. I can’t say I blame him, can you?”

I looked around the room. The guests were huddled in groups of five or six. In some ways, they reminded me more of brightly colored birds than they did of people.

“No,” I said. “I can see how a little of this could go a long way.”

“Oh, there’s the mayor,” she said. “Gotta run, Jack. Thanks again for doing this.”

She strode across the room toward His Honor. I watched her ass sway, then picked up another plate of shrimp.

Yeah, it definitely beat sitting in an apartment all weekend.

About a half an hour later, the mayor tapped a fork against his wine glass. The guests grew silent, and all eyes turned toward Mrs. Daniels, who stood beside him.

“Folks, I know Elizabeth doesn’t want any stuffy comments from me,” the mayor said. “But it’s wonderful to see such a great turnout tonight for one of the most dedicated public servants I’ve ever had the pleasure to sit with on the Council.

“I could talk all day about the work Elizabeth has put into industrial recruiting and economic development. Real work that has led to the creation of more than 1500 jobs in the past two years alone.

“But even that was eclipsed last year by the Herculean efforts that Elizabeth poured into the aftermath of Hurricane Julian and the terrible flood that ravaged this community. The organization and efficiency she brought to the recovery process during that crisis helped folks go from the worst moment of their lives to safety and stability. She helped us in countless ways during that awful September. And that’s why we need her back on the Council again come January.”

The crowd clapped wildly and some of the men cheered. Mrs. Daniels smiled, and I was suddenly proud of her. True, I had seen a very different side of her, but it was apparent that her passion for life went well beyond the bedroom.

“Thank you so much, Mayor Brewer,” Mrs. Daniels said. “And thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to come tonight. I’m not going to spoil your evening with a long-winded speech, but this means a lot to me. It’s wonderful to see so many of you.”

The party began winding down over the next 20 minutes. Mrs. Daniels stood near the door so she could thank each guest. Patterson and I began clearing tables.

“Hey, Jack,” he said. “Could you do me a favor? I’m going home with Susan after this wraps up. Could you drive Mom home? I don’t think she’s had a lot to drink, but she probably doesn’t need to take any chances after her own campaign party.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be happy to.”

“Thanks, man.”

We folded tables and chairs and stowed them in a storage room down the hall. The Arts Centre was pretty cool — a couple of galleries and an atrium on the third floor, where Mrs. Daniels held the fundraiser; a kids’ museum and planetarium on the second floor; and a pretty decent-sized aquarium on the ground floor.

I walked into the atrium, where Patterson and Susan stood talking to Mrs. Daniels.

“So we’re all cool?” Patterson was saying. “Jack, you’ll be the designated driver for Mom?”

“Sure,” I said.

“All right, so we’ll see you tomorrow,” Patterson said.

He and Susan walked to the elevator. Mrs. Patterson put a bunch of campaign literature in a box. I looked for something to do, feeling more than a little awkward.

“So how goes the planning career?” she asked casually.

“It’s good,” I said. “Grad school is tough, but very focused. We’ve been studying Gaithersburg, Maryland. It’s pretty cool how well they’ve blended neighborhoods with shops and offices up there. Kind of a Fantasyland for geeks and wonks.”

I forced a laugh to help fill the silence. Mrs. Daniels smiled but said nothing.

I picked up the box, and she began turning off most of the overhead lights.

We stepped into the elevator, and I pressed 2, the kids’ museum level. It was connected to the parking garage.

“Have you seen the aquarium?” Mrs. Daniels asked.

“No,” I said. “Um … did you want to take a look?”

“It’s very cool,” she said. “Especially at night.”

I hit 1. A moment later, the doors opened at the second floor. We waited for them to close again and resume the descent.

“It was great what the mayor said tonight,” I said. “Patterson said you were busy as hell after the storm. You apparently made quite an impression.”

“It was a crazy time,” she said. “Everyone chipped in and made things a million times better than any of us had a right to expect them to be. I have something to tell you about those days. It was– … oh, but wait, you have to see this first!”

The elevator doors opened and we were bathed in the soft blue light of the giant aquarium. There’s no use pretending the tank would rival the ones in Baltimore or Atlanta, but it was pretty damn spectacular. Octopus, squid, eels … the ocean really is a totally different world at night.

We walked into the room and stood there, trying to take it all in.

“This is incredible,” I said. “I was wrong a few minutes ago … about Gaithersburg. This is Fantasyland.”

Mrs. Daniels smiled.

“That’s funny,” she said. “I was thinking about what you said, too. Only I think I remember a different version of what you once called Fantasyland.”

She walked a couple of paces toward the tank, then turned around to face me. She looked amazing, that hourglass figure in silhouette against the silent dance of the marine world behind her.

“You remember that Thanksgiving, Jack,” she said slowly.

I swallowed and felt my entire body start to coil and grow hard.

“Yes,” I said. “I remember. But I never understood, Mrs. Daniels. I never understood why that ended so abruptly. I sent you texts, emails. I left a message on the phone at your law office. I figured you just … you just … hated me … for reasons I couldn’t really understand.”

“Oh, dear Jack,” she said softly. She looked down at the floor and sighed.

“Hated you?” she said. “Oh, sweetheart, I could never hate you. But I could never have you, either. Surely, you understand that.”

“I guess,” I said. “But that morning … and that night … what the hell was that?”

She turned and walked toward a bench situated in the center of the aquarium. After a couple of steps, she looked back over her shoulder.

“Follow me, Jack,” she said.

I kept a few paces behind her, but walked as she did. She got to the bench and turned back to face me again.

“I started to tell you something on the elevator,” she said. “Maybe I should just show you …”

Mrs. Daniels turned her back to me again, walked over to the bench and hiked up her skirt. She lifted her shapely left leg and planted her high heel squarely on the seat, then leaned forward.

“Come closer, darling,” she said. “Look.”

Mrs. Daniels spread her legs and flipped up her skirt.

In the soft glow of the aquarium light I could see the cheeks of her big ivory ass, bisected by the thin black ribbon of a thong.

A circular tattoo, about the size of a doughnut, caught my eye. It looked like a flower at first, stamped on the upper area of her gorgeous left butt cheek. But as I drew closer, I realized it was something else.

The sun? I wondered. Wait … some kind of buzzsaw?

Then it hit me. It was one of those weather patterns we see on television almost every September. The swirling maelstrom representation of a hurricane.

Hurricane Julian.

“The storm,” I said. “That’s awesome.”

Mrs. Daniels straightened up and let her skirt fall into a more conventional arrangement. She turned around and smiled.

“That’s right, Jack,” she said. “Counting doctors and nurses, you’re one of only about five or six people on this planet who have seen that tattoo. And what a metaphor for my life it has become for me.”

We watched the fish again for a few minutes. After the stress of slinging drinks and making sure the bigwigs stayed buzzed, the spectacular show of color and silence gave us both a moment of zen.

“You know, when I was a kid, I was always determined to tame chaos,” Mrs. Daniels said. “Yeah, I was *that* girl. The one who started working on her term paper as soon as it was assigned. In college, I paid my bills before they were due. Family, career, City Council … I kept all of it arranged neatly … like the shoes lined up in my closet.

“And that seemed to work pretty well for about 40 years or so. Forty great years, really, until two things happened … Hurricane Julian … and you.”

I took a step or two closer. I was starting to see where she was headed.

“With you, I convinced myself it was just a wrong turn down a dark street,” she continued. “It was wild and so totally out of my character, but it was self-contained. We had our moment. I turned the car around afterward and navigated back to my safe little world of church circles and rezoning issues. It was just a couple of days that we could remember in secret on a need-to-cum basis. I can tell you … it has brought a whole new dimension to masturbation.”

She smiled and took my hands in hers.

“But then the hurricane came, and it pretty much flipped all of that over,” she said. “It was such a paradox and a challenge — trying to find the order and preparedness I’ve embraced all of my life in the middle of so much godawful devastation and fury. I started to see how perfectly a storm like that parallels life. It made a beautiful symbol for a tattoo … and a literal pain in the ass.”

I tried to laugh, a little uneasily.

“So is that what I seemed like when I tried to contact you?” I asked. “A pain in the ass?”

“Oh, god, no, Jack,” she said. “No, sweetheart, no. Not even close.”

Mrs. Daniels let go of my hands and stepped back toward the bench in front of the aquarium. She lifted her left foot again and planted it on the seat, thrilling me once more with the sight of those goddam thighs.

“Don’t you see, baby,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “You were my first taste of that power, Jack. The first hurricane that blew into my manicured life. You were my first … my first … fuck with fury.”

I think she somehow sensed the explosion of my hormones before I even did. Why else would she just stand there like that? A voluptuous package of flesh and tits, beauty and cunt.

I reached out, pulled her to me, my whole body starving. Smothering her mouth with mine.

Do you ever think about those first few seconds of lust in a tailwind? When your eyes close, your mind reels and your tongue fucks her mouth like a bullet train entering a tunnel?

My cock felt like a brick in my pants. I banged it into her leg like a hump-crazy dog. All the while, her attempts to scream, muted and incoherent.

We broke the kiss, at last, gasping. Trembling. Dick throbbing.

I could smell her pussy. Oh god, I could smell her pussy.

Mrs. Daniels moaned and rubbed her tits through her blouse. She opened her eyes and began to speak in a whisper that dripped with lust.

“The fury, Jack,” she said. “The way you fucked me that night. God, I want to feel it again.”

She slowly started to unbutton her blouse.

Way. Too. Slowly.

She was daring me. Taunting me. As if she could just flash me a little skin and put me under her spell.

I laughed and felt my body relax.

“It’s not that easy, babe,” I started to say.

And then I tore her fucking clothes off.

Her big tits jiggled as I devastated her bra. I could feel the steam from her hairy cunt as I ripped her thong.

She was growling. Spreading her legs wider and cupping her naked breasts. Holding them up. No modesty in the City Councilwoman from Ward 6, Mister Mayor. Just a hot, sexy woman ready to serve me.

I pulled her left tit to my mouth and bit her nipple.

“Oh, fuck!” she said. “Oh, god, it’s been so fuckin long! Eat my titties, Jack. God, you make me ache so fuckin bad … so fuckin good …”

I opened my mouth as wide as I could and tried to suck her fat jug all the way in … an impossible task. I slurped and grunted from tit to tit, gnawing her nipples, drooling all over her.

My fingers snaked their way through the thick matted bush of her cunt until they found her deep, wet hole.

“Yesssss!” she hissed. “Christ, what you do to me. Don’t hold back, Jack. Don’t you fuckin dare hold back! Just fuck me.”

I could feel her hot thick syrup drowning my fingers, running down my wrist. I bit her tit again, and as she opened her mouth to yelp, I quickly pulled my fingers out of her dripping snatch and jammed them in her mouth.

She sucked the pussy juice with loud, smacking noises.

It was my turn to growl.

She looked so fucking hot, legs spread wide, hour-glass figure silhouted against the silent spectacle of the aquarium.

I grasped her arms — gently this time — and helped her lie down on the backless bench. I pulled her legs forward a little, so her pussy and part of her ass overhung the edge of the seat. Then I dropped to my knees and found the bubbling richness of her cunt with my fingers, my nose, my mouth.

“Jezus god yes, Jack!” she cried.

I thought about the two years of unfair silence as I battered her clit with my tongue. The unilateral decision she had made to keep me away. The awkward pauses in conversation whenever her son mentioned her. The hurt and confusion left by unanswered texts and emails.

I thought about all of that as I sucked her thick pussy lips, stretched open her hole and pummeled her clit. No cannibal was ever as ravenous as I was that night.

She tried at first to guide me to her favorite spots, her long crimson nails lightly scratching my cheekbones as she clutched my face. But my onslaught was too much, and she gave up quickly.

Her thick thighs quivered around my neck like jello. I had to stop and sigh in spite of myself. There’s nothing so erotic as the soft wet flesh of a voluptuous woman at the height of passion.

When I attacked her again, she could somehow read my motive. The tone of her voice dropped half an octave. Nothing sweet or pleading any more. The sound of a born leader taking charge.

“You want it, don’t you, boy,” she snarled. “That hot fucking cunt I took from you. Deprived you of. I fucked myself with your dick that night and robbed you of your fuckin seed. Didn’t I, baby?”

She somehow pulled my face away from her creamy twat long enough to look me in the eyes. Her big titties quivering as she panted.

Then … in a soft voice … interrupted by gasps …

“And what,” she said. “What …the fuck … are you … going … to do … about that?”

The roar that came out of my mouth seemed to erupt from a zillion places at once — two years of pent-up madness … a tiger shark gliding in the tank behind her … a million tiny fists pounding the inside of my screaming, balls …

I yanked my dick from my pants and stabbed her.

She was wetter than the fuckin seaweed.

“You … fuckin … bitch!” I yelled. “You hot … fuckin … slut!”

“Don’t treat me like a debutante,” she teased. “I might start to like it.”

I battered that sopping pussy with everything I had. My nut sack killing me as it banged into her ass at the edge of the bench.

All the while she tweaked her nipples with angry red nails and cooed.

“That’s right, boy,” she taunted. “Is that all you got? Gimme that big fuckin meat. My cunt is starving!”

From boys to men, we hear it … the single most important thing about sex, taught by a million elders from generation to generation: Satisfy your partner, they said. Make her see stars. Leave her gasping for the taste of you …

Well, fuck that noise. She didn’t deserve the pleasure. She didn’t deserve the courtesy. She only deserved my …


I felt her big thighs, once locked solidly around my waist, turn to jelly. Her sharp nails plunged deep inside my asshole. I closed my eyes and braced for my explosion …

And then … she came … like a fuckin geyser … all over me. Pussy gaping like a pungent, molten sinkhole that sucked my dick deep into her womb. My biceps collapsed. I fell into her chest. And she somehow found my mouth with hers … and nursed my soul.

I saw a bright pink blur and a thousand fish swimming in the orgasm that was drowning me. And as the last breath left my body, she somehow reached me. A gentle kiss to my head as I buried myself in her big soft breasts. Her fingers massaging my chest and nipples. And her cavernous cunt yawning even wider for my dick.

“You’re still not done?” she gasped. “Fuck … fuck … fuck …”

She pulled my head from her tits and kissed me.

“Get it,” she said softly. “Fuckin get it, Jack. Bust a fuckin gasket in my pussy. Goddam, you deserve that.”

I rolled over and let my back absorb the rail marks of that goddam bench. In a flash, she swallowed my cock down her throat. So deep, my pubes tickled her lips as she looked at me.

As my breathing grew a little softer, she slowly let my big stiff prick fall from her slobbering mouth with a soft plop against my belly.

“Tastes like cunt soup,” she said. “All kinds of nasty, all kinds of good. Just like my steaming hole.

“And now I’m gonna fuck you.”

Backlit by the aquarium, Mrs. Daniels straddled my lap and stuffed my cock into her cunt. She rode me slowly … up and down … with an undulation that made her seem somehow at home with the marine life behind her. A mermaid … with giant quaking tits and a bushy twat that felt ready to set the bench on fire. All the while, singing to me the siren song that lures sailors at sea …

“Give me that big fucking load, you hot motherfucker. Holy shit, Jack! Did you see that volcano? My pussy fucking erupted! Give me more, angel. Give me that thick fuckin man sauce …”

Her voice faded away as she continued to babble filthy instructions, replaced by something else … growing louder … more urgent … inside me …

My hips thrust upward, into her fucking cunt. She grabbed my arms in her claws, trying to contain my bucking. But nothing was going to contain me. I felt my cock bolt like a rocket, and my eyes opened for one instant … long enough to take in the obscene beauty of Mrs. Daniels — tossed hair … heaving bosom … a leering smile on her lips …

And then I fucking came.

I grabbed the sides of the bench as she rode me like a warhorse. Her fat ass practically crushing my nuts as my jizz sprayed her womb like a firehose. She was somehow cumming again. Her wet tits slapped my face with every heave. I grabbed the cheeks of her ass and marveled again at the incredible feel of a big beautiful woman. And in the middle of our climactic rush into the heart of the universe, our mouths somehow found one another.

And we kissed.

Oh, god, how we kissed.


There are certain moments in life that feel like a cool gray dawn, regardless of what time it really is or how old you are or what you’ve been doing. Dawns like that can last a couple of minutes … or even a couple of days … or in some cases, even a few months or years …

Patterson and I received our master’s degrees on the same day on the same campus. His in business administration, mine in government affairs.

We shook hands, then broke into goofy grins and embraced one another somewhat awkwardly in congratulations.

Mrs. Daniels gave me a quick hug. Our families went out to eat together to celebrate. And then we all walked out of one another’s lives.

Patterson works in Charlotte. I’m knee-deep in city planning. We see each other on Facebook. I think he’s finally going to marry Susan.

Mrs. Daniels was a right turn on a wrong street, a sexually explosive memory I can conjure on a need-to-cum basis.

In Greenville, she is still a popular City Councilwoman, famous for her cool collectiveness in the face of hurricanes and other crises.

Government needs more of that kind of wisdom and patience.

She saves the fury, I like to think, for those who can appreciate it.

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