Loading...One Saturday afternoon in September 2004, Dan was lying on his couch watching college football when his phone rang. A friend of his from work was on the other end. “Dan, this is Scott, what’s up?”
“Just watching the end of the USC game. What are you doing?”
“I’ve been in the office all day and need to meet Lauren for dinner at 8 or so. Wanna grab a few drinks with me before.”
“Mmm, sure. I’m supposed to meet a few friends later. Mind if I have ’em meet us?”
“Not at all. Why don’t you meet me at Gibson’s? We’re having dinner at Hugo’s.” Hugo’s Frog Bar was right behind Gibson’s.
“Sure. Give me half-an-hour or so. I need jump in the shower and then grab a cab. Should be down there by 6:30 or so.”
“See you there.” Dan got up from the couch, took a shower, and hailed a cab to Gibson’s. Gibson’s was located in what has become known as the Viagra Triangle. It, and many of the bars and restaurants near it, was frequented by forty-something’s looking for love. Or sex, whatever was convenient. Gibson’s was particularly renowned for catering to older men looking for younger women, and older women for younger men.
As the cab neared Gibson’s, Dan called one of his friends that he was supposed to meet that night, but got his voicemail. “Steve, this is Dan. I’m meeting a friend from work at Gibson’s for a few drinks. Meet me there at around 7:30 or so. Oh, and call Jeff and let him know. See you later.” Dan folded his phone as the cab pulled up to the curb in front of Gibson’s.
Scott already had a high table, drink in hand, when Dan entered. “Long day at the office?” Dan said, taking a seat.
“Not really. I just went in for a few hours.”
When a waitress appeared, Dan ordered a Stoli and tonic. “What do you have going on?” he asked Scott when the waitress left.
“Nothing much. I just have a big report due in New York Monday morning, and I wanted to take a last look before I e.mailed it over.”
Dan and Scott spent the next half-an-hour or so talking about office gossip, complaining about high-maintenance clients, and people-watching. Even though it was still early, the Gibson’s regulars (or at least Dan assumed they were regulars) were all present, staking out their turf. It was comical to watch, really.
Dan was about to respond to something Scott had said when something – someone – caught his eye. At one end of the bar, he saw Donna Morgan. He had known Mrs. Morgan for upwards of ten years. He and her son, Steve, went to high school together and had run with the same crowd. They still did; in fact, Dan had just left a voicemail message for her son. The Morgans lived down the street from Dan’s family in Winnetka, and he and Steve had been best friends in junior high and high school. They drifted apart some during college, but still maintained a very close friendship.
Their friendship when they were younger had been such that Steve sometimes accompanied Dan’s family to their house in Beaver Creek, and Dan on occasion traveled to Naples, Florida with the Morgan family. Dan had always found Mrs. Morgan extremely beautiful, in the trophy wife sort of way, but she was a complete bitch, cold and aloof. She acted as though everything was a bother to her, like she was way above everyone surrounding her. When he and Steve were growing up, she couldn’t be bothered to drive them to the mall or pick them up from football practice. The PTA? Forget it; not in a million years. She’d rather be shopping on Oak Street and downing bottles of wine with her friends at Tavern-on-Rush or Bistro 110.
Part of that was her upbringing; her father had been a top personal injury attorney in Chicago. Rumor had it that her trust, which she received when she turned twenty-five, was in the eight-figures. Another part was her husband. Mrs. Morgan was clearly a trophy wife. Dan didn’t really know her age, but with Steve being her son, and based on how good she looked, he guessed she was in her mid-forties. Mr. Morgan, on the other hand, was in his late-fifties, at best. He was in venture capital, and provided very well for the family.
At the end of the day, being born into money and then marrying it all over had given Mrs. Morgan a serious superiority complex. Dan remembers that when they were growing up, she would barely acknowledge Steve’s friends when they were around the house. She would breeze in after shopping all day, and march through the house, bags in hand, with barely a hello. Given their financial security, the Morgans had full-time help; in Dan’s view, Mrs. Morgan did not treat them very well, but instead ordered them around with a distinct lack of respect and compassion. All in all, Mrs. Morgan was a fucking cunt.
Despite this, she was absolutely stunning; no one could rightly deny that. Looking at her across the bar, Dan estimated her height at five-feet-eight-or-nine inches. She had long, dirty blonde hair that flowed over her shoulders and hung a few inches past. Dan cannot recall ever seeing her hair in anything so pedestrian as a ponytail; rather, it looked like she went to stylist every day, and that night was no exception. As rude as she typically was, Mrs. Morgan usually kept her eyes averted from anything as bothersome as Steve’s friends, so Dan could not really recall ever seeing any magic or brightness in them, and only knew that they were a shade of blue. This night was a little different; he could see life there. She was enjoying herself.
The small crowd between Dan and Mrs. Morgan parted, giving him a more complete view of her. ‘Wow,’ he thought. He had to revise her estimate of her height, because she was in three-inch open-toed heels crafted in black patent leather; her toenails gleamed with red polish. As his eyes traveled up her lean, lightly muscled legs – one straight and the other cocked at the knee – he noticed no telltale signs of stockings or pantyhose.
A tasteful black skirt hung from her trim waist, falling two or three inches above her knees. A white knit top clung to her upper body. It was sleeveless, and had a button in front to keep the two sides together. Dan had never seen a top like this, and didn’t know what to call it. Whatever it was, it exposed a large part of her flat, tanned stomach. The button – there was only one – joined the lapels at her breast line. It must have been a strong button; Dan had never noticed before, but Mrs. Morgan’s breasts were quite large, a large C-cup or a small D-cup, at least. He could see her nipples tenting the fabric. A large diamond pendant hung from her neck and fell between her cleavage. When she turned away from him for a moment to order another drink, Dan was treated to a tight little ass hiding beneath that skirt.
When her drink arrived, Mrs. Morgan brought the low-ball, now filled with a brownish liquid, to her red-painted lips just as Dan turned back to Steve. He saw her French-manicured nails gripping the glass, and her wedding rings sparkled in the faint light of the bar. “Yeah,” he said, answering Steve. “I worked on that account for a few months about two years ago, before I got pulled back to Chicago. Not fun. The client wants miracles, and thinks it can happen overnight.”
As their conversation continued, Dan’s eyes strayed back to Mrs. Morgan. He was alarmed to see her staring at him, her drink paused right before her lips. Dan thought he could see the color drain from her deeply tanned cheeks. After a moment, she appeared to regain her composure, and put her drink to her lips, placing it back on the bar after taking a strong pull.. She leaned over to the person she was talking to, placing a hand on his arm, and walked away from the bar towards the main entrance. As she did so, she beckoned for Dan to follow, crooking a manicured finger at him.
“Gimme a minute, Steve, I’ve gotta say hi to someone.” Dan met her at the main entrance. “Mrs. Morgan, so good to see you,” he said with mock sincerity, holding out his hand. He really did hate her. He would kiss some of his friends’ moms on the cheek when seeing them, but not Mrs. Morgan. You’d probably get slapped for messing up her make up.
“You, too, Dan,” she responded with the same artificiality, taking the offered hand. Rather than continuing, she just stared at him.
“What can I do for you, Mrs. Morgan? You summoned me over here.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.
“I . . . I didn’t want you saying anything . . . to Steve, I mean. Well, er, anyone, for that matter.” The usual confidence was missing. Dan knew what was going on: Mrs. Morgan was on the prowl. Needless to say, this surprised him. He couldn’t image this bitch being friendly enough so that anyone would want to deal with her. And despite her beautiful face and sexy body, he had never really imagined her having sex. Her holier-than-thou attitude – which is to say ‘bitchy attitude’ – did not inspire such thoughts.
“What do you mean, ‘say anything’? You’re here having a drink. What’s there to say?” Before she could respond, Dan continued to play with her, looking around the bar area of the restaurant. “Where’s Mr. Morgan? I’d like to say hello to him. It’s been at least six months since I’ve seen him.”
“He’s not here. He’s traveling this weekend,” she said, too quickly. “I came downtown to do some shopping, and then met some girlfriends for a few drinks before I go home.”
“Girlfriends?” Dan inquired, continuing the game and looking around the space where Mrs. Morgan had been standing. “I don’t see any ‘girlfriends.’ Just that guy you were talking to.” Dan nodded his head towards a kid about his age – mid-twenties or so – dressed up for a night on the town in black pants and a silk shirt. ‘Probably a trader,’ Dan thought. ‘What a fuckin’ shithead.’
“They’re not here yet. They’re coming soon.”
Dan returned his gaze to Mrs. Morgan. “Really? I’m sorry, Mrs. Morgan. I thought you said you ‘met’ some girlfriends here. ‘Met,’ of course, implies past tense, something that has already occurred. Not something that is going to occur in the future.”
Mrs. Morgan just stared at him. He could almost feel her hatred of him for intruding on her like this. “I meant I came here to meet them.” She paused. “They’re not here yet. They will be soon. In the future.” She was mocking him. What a fucking bitch.
“Well, enjoy your evening, Mrs. Morgan.” As he began to walk back towards Steve, he turned. “Hey, when they get here, why don’t you introduce me? Maybe they know my mom, too.” Dan smirked and walked away. He knew there were no girlfriends; Mrs. Morgan had to be squirming now. “Sorry about that, Steve. A friend’s mom I haven’t seen in a while.”
Dan watched as Mrs. Morgan made her way back to the bar. Unfortunately for her, Trader Boy had found another mark. She grabbed her drink and took a long pull from it. He expected her to leave then, to find a new hunting ground, but she didn’t. She resumed her pose against the bar, but faced away from Dan. ‘Does she think that if she can’t see me, I can’t see her? Wouldn’t surprise me, she’s so self-centered.’
Dan pulled out his cell phone and dialed Steve, again getting his voicemail. “Hey, it’s me again. Cancel those last plans. I’ve gotta run home for a few minutes after this. Why don’t we meet at North Side in Bucktown around 9:00 or so? Call me and let me know. Call Jeff, too.” The last thing Dan wanted was for Steve to walk in here and see his mom playing the role of cougar. He hung up his phone and he and Scott resumed their conversation. As 8:00 approached, Steve paid the tab and got up to leave. Dan did, too, taking a last glance towards Mrs. Morgan. She saw him in a mirror behind the bar, and turned to look at him, and then again beckoned him with a long, manicured finger.
“Steve, I’m gonna say goodbye to this lady. I’ll see you Monday, huh?”
“You bet.”
“Say hi to Lauren for me.”
This time, Dan joined Mrs. Morgan at the bar. “Care to join me for a drink?” she asked.
“While you wait for your friends, you mean?”
“Yes, while I wait for my friends. That’s what I mean.” She sure was confrontational, especially for a married woman found in a bar with a twenty-something on her arm.
“Well, I can’t stay long. I’m meeting Jeff and Steve in a little bit. You know Steve, your son?” She flagged the bartender and ordered two of what she was drinking, single barrel bourbon.
“Of course. Don’t be an ass.”
“Sorry. Just wanted to make sure. It’s like I’ve never seen you before, so I guess I’m just making sure I have all the facts straight.”
Mrs. Morgan again just stared at him, not responding. After a minute, she placed her hand on Dan’s arm. Dan looked down to see her long fingers rubbing his skin, her diamond rings shining in the bar’s light. Past her hand, her tanned stomach was exposed to his gaze. Dan felt his cock stir in his pants. “It’s getting crowded in here, Dan. Why don’t we go somewhere quieter and talk?”
Dan raised an eyebrow. “Quieter, Mrs. Morgan? Or more private?”
Mrs. Morgan paused before answering. “More private,” she whispered, squeezing Dan’s arm for emphasis.
“What’s the plan here, Mrs. Morgan. I catch you on the prowl, and now you’ll buy my silence? Is that it?”
“No, that’s not it. Not at all. I’m not buying anything, except a drink for you.”
“Well, let’s think about this. You’re at a bar here in the Viagra Triangle without your husband, who is traveling. You’re talking to this young guy, laughing and flirting, touching him. You see me and go absolutely pale. You then tell me that you’re meeting your girlfriends here, but you want to leave with me and go somewhere private – even though you’re meeting your friends here. Sounds like you’re trying to buy my silence, Mrs. Morgan. And, by the way, Steve was supposed to meet me here, but I called him a few minutes ago and told him I’d meet he and Jeff somewhere else in a little bit.”
Mrs. Morgan’s eyes went wide at this, and were then cast downward. She could not imagine the shame if her son had seen her here, hitting on a young man the same age as him. “That would have been embarrassing,” she muttered.
“I’m sure. So, do I have it right, Mrs. Morgan,” Dan asked, as she continued to stroke his arm with her long nails.
She now dropped the pretense. “In part. The only part you have wrong is my trying to buy your silence. I didn’t suggest somewhere quieter – more private – to buy your silence,” she said, dropping her voice. She leaned in to his ear. “I want somewhere more private where I can fuck the shit out of you.” Her hot breath in his ear and her filthy mouth sent Dan’s blood flooding his cock. “I came downtown tonight to find a no-strings fuck with a young cock. You fit the bill. Ready?” she finished, moving away from his ear.
Dan lifted his glass to his mouth, and took a pull of the bourbon into his mouth. He gazed around the bar, thinking, and set his glass down. He then took Mrs. Morgan’s hand in his, leading her from Gibson’s. “Is my condo private enough? It’s only a fifteen minute cab ride.”
“Probably. But the Ritz is only a five minute cab ride. I have a suite there.” As they exited Gibson’s the doorman offered to hail a cab for them, and they stood on the curb waiting. “Dan, do you remember Christina?”
“Steve’s old girlfriend?” Mrs. Morgan nodded. “Of course. They dated for a while in high school and during our freshman year at college. She and I went to school together.”
“What do you know about her?”
“Enough. Why?”
“Why did she and Steve break up?” Dan had the feeling that Mrs. Morgan knew the answer to these questions, but was asking them for a purpose.
“She cheated on him. You know that. Listen, Christina’s a slut. Or she was. Maybe still is, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in a few years. Last I heard, she was in South Beach. I’m the reason they broke up. Well, not the reason, but during our freshman year, the first semester we were there, she hooked up with two or three different guys a week. It was ridiculous. She and Steve were still dating. I told her to stop or I’d tell Steve. She said she would, but nothing changed, so I told him. That’s when they broke up. She never had a boyfriend in college after that. She just slept with a new guy or two every week. She’s got to be the biggest whore Winnetka ever produced.”
“I doubt that,” Mrs. Morgan replied matter-of-factly.
“You don’t know Christina then.”
“Well, you don’t know me.”
Dan didn’t know what to make of that, when a cab pulled up for them. He held the driver’s side door for Mrs. Morgan and let her in, going around to get in the other side. He slid in as Mrs. Morgan directed the driver to the Ritz-Carlton behind Water Tower Place.
“What’s that mean?”
She didn’t even pretend to not understand. Her hand floated across the seat to Dan, causing him to shudder as her nails lightly raked his thigh through his pants. “It means that I’m much sluttier than Christina, that’s what it means,” she said, sidling over to him.
“That’s . . . that’s ridiculous. I’ve never heard of anyone messing around with you. I hadn’t even thought it was possible.”
“Of course you never heard anything like that. I don’t fuck my neighbors, Dan. I’m not stupid.” Mrs. Morgan continued to stroke Dan’s thigh, but her hand strayed further and further towards his crotch with each upward movement. “I drive out to places like Fox Lake and go to Wokini’s. Or Hunter’s in Highwood. Sometimes, I’ll go to the Two Two Lounge or Toby’s Tavern in North Chicago.”
Dan’s eyes opened wide. “North Chicago?” he muttered in complete shock.
“Hmm-mmm.”
“A real equal opportunity woman, aren’t you?”
“Woman?” she asked rhetorically as her fingers finally found the thickening length of Dan’s shaft as it grew down his pants leg. “Mmmm, very nice,” she interruputed herself. Whispering in Dan’s ear, she continued, “Equal opportunity whore is probably more accurate. White, black, brown, yellow. I don’t care, as long as they’re a rough fuck, and only if they’re young. I love young cock.”
“Never would . . . have occurred . . . to me,” Dan managed to get out, his breath ragged now from Mrs. Morgan’s manipulation of his cock.
Mrs. Morgan could feel the heat of Dan’s cock through his pants as the cab pulled under the Ritz’s portico. “The last time I was here, two weeks ago in fact, I received very disapproving looks from the doormen and the concierge,” she said with a smirk, getting out of the cab.
“Why’s that?” Dan said as he followed her out of the cab, adjusting his cock to a more comfortable position.
After they made their way through the revolving doors, Mrs. Morgan leaned into him and whispered, “It seems they didn’t like me bringing the twenty-year-old busboy from Hugo’s back here.” Dan’s heart skipped a beat.
Exiting the elevator, Mrs. Morgan strutted across the lobby, imperial as ever, to the concierge’s desk and ordered a bottle of wine to be brought up to her suite. She and Dan then boarded an elevator to the twentieth floor. When the doors swooshed shut, and they were alone, Mrs. Morgan leaned into Dan.
“This is going to be fun,” she giggled, one of her hands gripping Dan’s belt buckle and pulling him towards her, the other wrapping around the back of his head. “I’ve never fucked one of Steve’s friends before.” Mrs. Morgan pulled Dan’s face towards her own, her shiny red lips parting to allow her hot, pink tongue to escape. Then their lips touched, and Mrs. Morgan’s tongue slipped into her son’s best friend’s mouth, probing. Dan was quick to respond; he let Mrs. Morgan’s tongue find his as he placed on hand on her trim hip, pulling her closer to him. Their lips – and bodies – parted as the doors of the elevator opened on the twentieth floor.
They entered the suite and Mrs. Morgan began turning on lights throughout the suite. “Make yourself comfortable, Dan. I’ll join you in a second.” Dan took a seat on the couch in the living room. A moment later, Mrs. Morgan entered the living room again, strutting toward him with her sexy, trim hips swaying. She joined him on the couch, tucking a leg underneath her, and turned toward him and began to speak. “So, Daniel . . . .” A knock on the door interrupted her. “Be a dear and get that, wouldn’t you?”
“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.
Mrs. Morgan trilled with delight. “Ooohhh. You’re going to fuck me like a dog?” she inquired needlessly, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. Mrs. Morgan’s arms stretched out in front of her to brace herself, and she shifted her small feet further apart. “My favorite. I love getting it from behind, not being able to see who’s fucking me. Sometimes I let Mr. Morgan fuck me doggystyle, but I imagine it’s a sailor from Great Lakes back there, fucking me with his fat, black cock.” Dan moaned at Mrs. Morgan’s filthiness. He took the root of his cock in one hand, and pressed down on the small of her back with the other. Seating the head of his cock firmly between his best friend’s mom’s cunt lips, Dan pushed forward, feeling the searing heat of her cunt engulf his cockhead and then the first three inches of his shaft. “There you go, young man. Get it in there. Mmmm.” He pulled back a little, and then roughly pushed forward again. Mrs. Morgan’s vagina, loosened by the bottle-fucking, easily accepted Dan’s remaining six inches and, with a grunt, Dan had fully penetrated this cheating little slut.
Mrs. Morgan looked over her shoulder at him, her baby blue eyes gleaming with lust, and egged him on. “You like fucking cheating whores, Dan, hmm?” she taunted. She reached behind her with her left hand, and smacked her ass cheek with it, jamming her ass back at him. “Fuck me, Dan. Look at your young cock sliding in my bald cunt, my asshole spread open for you. Treat me like a whore, Dan! I told you, I like being pounded; I want it rough. Fuck the shit out of me.”
Dan wasted no time giving Mrs. Morgan what she wanted, what she begged for, what she had ventured downtown for. He withdrew his cock until just the head remained ensconced in her hole, and then slammed back into her, feeling her soft yet firm ass checks flatten his pubic hair. She still had her head turned, her lust-filled eyes boring into his. Through clenched teeth, she said, “Harder, Dan! Fuck my married hole harder! Look at my rings, Dan.”
Dan’s gaze remained on Mrs. Morgan’s ass, where her left hand had stayed after she spanked herself. Her fingers were outstretched, and were edging closer to her puckered little asshole. He shuddered and almost came when the tip of her manicured ring finger scraped against the tender flesh of her asshole. “Spit on it, Dan,” she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Spit on my asshole.” Dan leaned over a little and let his spit drip from his mouth and fall between her asscheeks.
Her ring finger spread the saliva around, lubricating both itself and her anal opening. Dan watched as she slowly but steadily penetrated her own asshole. She worked it in and out, and rotated it around, forcing the hole to widen. Soon, Mrs. Morgan’s ring finger was buried in her asshole all the way to the rings. “You like that, Dan? You like watching me fingerfuck my own asshole?”
As Dan continued to pound the unfaithful wife and mother from behind, the force of his thrusts inched her forward. He soon found himself leaning over the bed just to remain inside her tight, spoken-for cunt. Climbing on the bed after her, Dan slammed his pelvis forward and into her depths with such force that it knocked Mrs. Morgan flat on her front, her finger slipping from her tight anal opening.
Dan rolled off to the side next to her, and pulled her on top of him. After getting her little feet under her, Mrs. Morgan rose up and, grabbing the cockshaft in her left hand, planted the head between her shiny, bare cunt lips. “Watch, Dan. Watch as I feed your thick, young cock to my hungry, cheating hole.” Dan stared at her left hand grasping his overheated shaft, her rings sparkling as she rubbed the head along her cunt lips.
Feeling the intense heat of it part her tender lips, Mrs. Morgan immediately let her weight fall, grunting at the sudden and forceful penetration of her loosened hole. She used her powerful legs to raise herself from the invading phallus, but let her muscles go slack, once again causing her aching cunt to be violently penetrated. “Oh, fuck . . . that’s good. . . . What an . . . awesome cock . . . awesome young cock.”
Mrs. Morgan’s legs soon tired of this athleticism, and she pulled her legs out from under her. Placing her hands on Dan’s chest, she ground her slick crotch against his. Dan’s pelvic bone crushed her sensitive clit between them, and she began to pant. Still rotating her slim hips against the young man below her, Mrs. Morgan dropped her face down and slid her warm, pink tongue between Dan’s lips, feeling his tongue meet hers in a deep, lust-filled kiss. She could hear him moan into her mouth; the knowledge that her forty-six-year-old body – augmented, but still forty-six – could still enliven men nearly half her age brought her untold pleasure.
Pulling her mouth away from his, Mrs. Morgan moved up his body a little, planting her fabulous tits right before his face. “Suck,” she demanded. Dan shifted his head and took her left nipple between his lips. He roughly sucked the nipple into his mouth, scraping it with his teeth. “Harder, Dan. Bite it . . . no, bite it, goddammit!” When she felt Dan’s teeth clamp down on her raw nipple, she let out a piercing shriek.
Mrs. Morgan continued to rock her adulterous pelvis against the young man’s cunt-pounding shaft. The thick cock splitting her open, combined with the pressure his teeth were exerting on one of her nipples, caused her to increase the pace of her rocking. Her clit, trapped between them, was being crushed, manipulated, abused. “I’m going to cum, Dan. I’m going to cum. My dripping . . . cheating . . . hole . . . is going to cum . . . all over . . . your young cock!” Mrs. Morgan rotated her slender hips around one more time, and her body went stiff. She let out a short squeal before it caught in her throat. Her body collapsed on top of Dan’s, and he could feel her saline-filled tits flatten against his chest.
Mrs. Morgan’s body continued to shake and undulate on top of him as she settled down from her second orgasm of the night. Not giving her too much time to catch her breath, Dan rolled the disloyal housewife onto her back and came up on top of her. Using his legs, he nudged hers apart, giving him access to her now-slack, bald cunt. His cock, still rock hard, pointed the way, and he deftly slid deep inside Mrs. Morgan for the third time that evening. “You want more, Mrs. Morgan? You still want this cock in you, fucking your married hole?”
He pounded her a few times to establish a rhythm, and then leaned back on his haunches. From this position, he could see Mrs. Morgan’s sexy little body shiver and shake with his every thrust. He watched as her store-bought tits rolled around her muscular torso, her nipples glowing almost red in the faint light of the room. “God, I love those tits, Mrs. Morgan. Fucking incredible.”
Mrs. Morgan reached her hands up and cupped her tits, tweaking the abused nipples. “Most of the boys like ’em,” she intoned. She pushed them together, and then let them go; they barely moved, instead wobbling just a little from the force of Dan’s thrusts.
Dying to grab them again, to squeeze them, Dan leaned forward and placed one hand on each quivering mound, gripping them firmly in his big, strong hands. So tight was his grip that he saw Mrs. Morgan wince, and the saline-packed appendages oozed between his fingers.
Mrs. Morgan was thrusting her sexy hips back at him, urging him to fuck her harder. “Come on, Dan. You ready to cum yet? Cum for me, Dan! I want to feel your young cock fill my cheating hole with sperm. Cum in me. Don’t you wanna cum inside Steve’s mom’s cunt?”
Dan dropped himself down, and contorted his body such that he could again take a distended and raw nipple in his mouth. The thickness of it, its length, excited him toward animal lust. “I wanna fuck these things,” he growled, pulling out of the older lady’s pussy. As his cock slipped from the hot folds, he looked down to see Mrs. Morgan’s hairless cunt lips hanging open, her own juices leaking from her hole and saturating the comforter underneath them.
Dan scrambled up Mrs. Morgan’s body and let his thick cock fall between the fake tits that her husband bought for her. He settled his ass on her lightly muscled ribcage and looked down to see her French-manicured fingers push the squishy titflesh up and around the shaft of his cock. “I love getting tittyfucked,” she whispered. She spit on his cock once then again; Dan reached behind him and dipped his fingers in her still-gaping cunt, and added her own juices to his cock for further lubrication.
He started thrusting his cock up through the heated cleavage, his mind burning with lust. On his upstrokes, his cock head, bloated and shiny, bumped against Mrs. Morgan’s chin or lips; when she timed it right, the head would slip between her lips or over her outstretched tongue.
“I love having cock between these fake tits,” she snarled. “Especially when they cum all over my pretty married face and the tits my husband bought for his own pleasure.”
As Mrs. Morgan’s filthy mouth penetrated his ears and overloaded his brain, Dan’s eyes were focused on his cock, trapped between his friend’s mom’s massive tits. Her extended nipples poked from between her fingers as she tightly clasped her titflesh around his shaft. Her manicured nails shone in the light of the room, but not as brightly as the wedding rings that hovered right above his cock.
“He thinks that he’s the only one who gets pleasure from these tits. Fucking idiot,” she grunted. Dan was really jamming his cock between her tits hard; sitting on her ribcage as he was made it hard for her to breath. “These tits have seen more young cock than a high school urinal.”
Mrs. Morgan’s continued taunting of him, and his view of his cock jamming up and down between her amazing tits, right below the platinum engagement and wedding rings, was too much for Dan. Pre-cum was leaking liberally from the tip of his cock now, and with one final shove between the nasty housewife’s tits, Dan’s balls began to empty themselves. Hot cum shot up his shaft and out the head of his cock, and he groaned from the bottom of his throat.
The first shot hit Mrs. Morgan right in the chin and flowed down along her neck, collecting along her collarbone, before dripping onto the comforter. She was ready for the second spurt, and tucked in her chin into her chest, mouth open, so that it squirted right into her mouth. “Oh, yeah, shoot your cum in my slutty mouth,” she moaned, swallowing quickly.
Mrs. Morgan released her tits and, with her left hand, firmly grasped the base of Dan’s cock, fiercely jacking it back and forth. His third load of ejaculate, stimulated by her rough treatment and the sight of her wedding-ring-clad hand wrapped around his twitching shaft, missed her mouth entirely and instead shot up to the bridge of her nose. Rope-like, it continued down one side of her nose to her cheek.
Though Dan was largely spent, Mrs. Morgan continued to jack him, attempting to coax more cum from his shaft. She pulled him closer, placing the head of his cock on her outstretched tongue, and was rewarded with the slow flow of one final deposit in her mouth. Satisfied that Dan’s balls were now empty, the housewife released his cock from her tight grip. As Dan climbed off her, he heard his cell phone ring in the other room. Looking at the alarm clock next to the bed, he exclaimed, “Oh, shit,” and ran into the living room. It was almost 9:30.
Mrs. Morgan remained stretched out on the bed. From the other room, she heard Dan’s half of the conversation. “Hey . . . Yeah, I’m coming. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes . . . No, I was just having a drink with an old friend . . . What? . . . Alright, alright, alright . . . I was fucking an old friend . . . Just give me twenty minutes,” he finished, as he walked into the bedroom, pulling on his pants.
“Steve?” Mrs. Morgan inquired, with her legs still spread wide; she was wiping cum from her face as she asked this.
“Mmm-hmm. I gotta go. Your son and Jeff have been waiting for me,” he said, pulling on his shirt and slipping on his shoes. He walked over to the bed and leaned over to give her a kiss, but stopped short. Her pussy was still wet with her own juices; the cuntlips were folded out and flattened. Dan could see stray streaks of sperm on her chin, lips, nose and cheek. There was no question her body had been used hard this evening. “Jeez, you’re a mess, Mrs. Morgan.” Her nipples still glowed red from the abuse Dan had levied on them at her demand. Instead of kissing her luscious, red lips, Dan leaned down and took a raw nipple in his mouth, gently bathing it with his tongue, soothing it with his saliva. Releasing the nipple, he walked toward the door. “Maybe I’ll stop by in few hours,” he said, pausing at the door. “We can have another round.”
“Don’t bother,” Mrs. Morgan chortled with a snotty sneer crossing her lips. “By then, I will have showered, gotten dressed, and gone to Jilly’s or the Red Head or somewhere else. By midnight, I’ll have another boy-toy with a fat cock buried in me. But this time, it’ll be stretching my asshole wiiiiiide open.” Mrs. Morgan rolled over, and Dan left her suite to meet her son and Jeff for a few drinks.