A Woman in Uniform
An Erotic Novel in Three Parts
By Magda McKune
The characters in this story are fictional. Any similarities between these characters and real people, living or dead, are purely coincidental.
Part One
CHAPTER 1
A man in a black suit with a maroon tie was speaking to me, but I wasn't paying any attention to him. I was trying to locate that handsome blonde stud with crystal blue eyes. I noticed the fellow standing in the crowd on the other side of the large white tent and I knew I wanted him. My pussy was getting all tingly and moist just thinking about it. So what if this was my mother's funeral? I wanted to meet this guy and go find a quiet secluded spot somewhere where we could fuck our brains out. I wondered if any of the mourners would mind terribly if I ripped his clothes off and rode him like a bucking bronco right on the lid of my dear departed mother's coffin? It wasn't like I give a shit about her anyway. It had been a long while since the old witch gave a rat's ass about me or what was important in my life. My attendance at the ceremony was merely for show. It was my dear sweet stepfather that I was concerned about. Robert Putnam, the only father I ever knew. I was too young to know my biological father before he passed away. Robert Putnam loved me as his own daughter and I truly adored my new daddy with all my heart.
I wondered if Daddy would mind me ducking out of his wife's funeral service to give that blonde stud a quick fuck, or at the very least a blow-job. Please, Daddy? Can I? Pretty please?
Daddy draped his arm around my shoulder and snapped me back into reality. I glanced at him. The man stood next to me looking at least a decade older. I guess my stepfather was taking the whole thing much harder than I was. I had stopped caring about my mother years ago -- even before they discovered the cancer. Mom had been diagnosed with uterine cancer and at first, I actually felt sorry for her. She and I had been fighting for a number of years and I thought that her impending appointment with the grim reaper might make the woman appreciate those around her a bit more. I was wrong. The pain-killers and chemotherapy made her even more of a bitch to live with than before. Her hard-nosed abrasiveness became the main reason for my leaving home to live on my own. I suppose in the end it all turned out for the best. I became a police officer in the big city of Raleigh, North Carolina. Well, a meter maid, actually. I hooked up with a boyfriend, got an apartment and a job, and never looked back.
The old woman's illness was exceptionally difficult on Daddy. He looked much older since I had seen him last. Must be almost three years now. I was thrilled when he contacted me, even though it was in regard to such sad news. But it was wonderful hearing from him again, and even better to see him. The man looked tired and haggard, most likely from having to deal with mother's declining health and bitchiness all by himself these past many months. I might have offered to be by his side at the very end, but considering the way my mother and I didn't get along, it may have put more of a strain on the woman's final days than was needed. It probably wouldn't help for him to have to cope with her cancer and his family members fighting at the same time. Not to mention the frustration and loneliness from lack of intimacy and affection from the old crone. Not only did Daddy have to put up with her constant mood swings and coldness but the possibility of sex in any form was most assuredly out of the question.
I snuggled my body closer into his side. I loved the dear man and felt genuine sorrow for him. I wanted to give him comfort and solace in this time of grieving, but also wanted him to know that his daughter cared for him deeply and was here to remind him he was not alone.
I was surprised to see so many people at my mother's funeral. Seemed like everybody in the whole town was there. Then again, Quiet Springs was a small community where everyone knew each other. Just a tiny little one-horse burg in the middle of rural North Carolina. Not much to do around here but watch the grass grow and attend funerals. That's why I wanted to get out and get away. I skedaddled to the big city of Raleigh the first chance I got, but it turned out to be less of a thrill than I imagined. In hindsight I had grown to appreciate the quiet and slow pace of the tiny crossroads in the middle of nowhere I had come to call home.
My home town of Quiet Springs was nothing spectacular. The main drag was essentially one long street with a gas station on one end and a big red brick church on the other. We had our tiny one-room post office, pool hall and tavern, IGA grocery store and Ace Hardware. There was a feed mill a block over next to a tractor supply and a multi-grade schoolhouse a little further down. And plenty of two-story old wooden houses and single level dwellings scattered about. It was small and quiet and dull. The perfect town to get away from and a quaint little place to come back to.
The sky was overcast with the hue of smoky metallic gray. The air was heavy with mist as it rained a light steady drizzle. I felt it appropriate for a funeral -- almost on the verge of real rain, but not quite. It was misting enough to make my face wet, fooling the other mourners into thinking that I was actually getting emotional over the loss of my dearly-departed mother. Fat chance. I laced my arm through Daddy's elbow. His face was wet too, but his was moistened by real tears. He was grieving over her loss -- something I could not and would not allow myself to do.
Daddy was wearing a dark blue double-breasted suit. It had been a long time since I had seen him in a suit -- probably not since my high school graduation. He looked very handsome. Robert Putnam was only in his mid-forties; tall and slender with short dark curly hair. He didn't look old enough to have a daughter twenty-four years old. Mother was a few years older than he was and I was nine years old when they married. And yet, he was every bit as much my father as I was every bit his daughter. He was a young and handsome man back then, and I loved him dearly. Even though he was not my birth parent, I would always think of him as my Daddy.
The long coat that I wore to the funeral covered up the slinky black dress that I chose for the solemn occasion. It was a satiny, sleeveless, knee-length number that clung tightly to my curvaceous figure like a second skin. Not exactly appropriate for grieving, but what did I care? I was one of the family, not a mourner. I had bought it for a dinner party I was supposed to go to a year ago, but my dick-headed boyfriend Eddie canceled at the last minute and I didn't feel like going out on my own. It was the only nice dress I owned, and since I paid full price for it I swore I would wear it before it no longer fit or went out of style. Luckily my 32-26-34 figure hadn't changed a bit in all that time. It made me feel sexy and beautiful and ready to hump that handsome blonde stud in the back seat of my little blue Toyota Camry the first chance I got.
I couldn't get into the whole respect for the dead bit, especially since my dear departed mommy was a heinous beast of a witch and I wasn't the least bit sad that she was gone. Besides, my mind was elsewhere. I was much too busy fantasizing erotic scenarios with my blonde lover-stud to be bothered with the old 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust' spiel.
Why don't you come over to mama and kneel right here between my feet, lover boy? Let me lift up my short sexy dress a little bit so you can see that I'm all wet and ready for you. Yes... that's it... caress your hands up and down my bare legs... just like that. Oh yeah, baby, I'm so hot for you! That's right -- peel my panties down my legs oh so slowly. Let me step out of them and spread my legs wider so you can lick my wet cunt. That's it lover, lick that nice juicy wet pussy. Oh yes, you're so good. Spread my pussy lips with your fingers. Yes! Yes! Stick your tongue inside me! Oh God, I'm so fucking hot for you!
My fantasy lover lapped me to an erotic frenzy, my mind reeling with craven carnal lust. I wanted to feel his long hard cock -- feel it thrusting deep inside me. I held my Daddy's arm tight to my side, my hard erect nipple pressing against his sleeve.
The blonde stud rose to his feet and took a few steps back, dropping his zipper and dipping his hand inside his fly to pull out his swelling manhood. He was already hard and stiff, his fist slowly stroking along the rigid pink length as he moved back to sit on the lid of my mother's coffin. I gravitated toward him, my palm rubbing my tingling wet vagina as my eyes watched his thick tool grow even bigger and longer in his stroking hand.
I crouched down and dropped my head over the crown, slurping my tongue around the tip and bobbing my head up and down the shaft. He was smooth and warm and hard and I felt my loins tingle with mounting expectation of a really great five-star fuck. Who cared if there were other mourners watching? In my mind there was only the two of us -- two lovers all alone in a quiet cemetery making love over an open grave.
He took my shoulders in his hands and lifted me to my feet, standing and guiding me backward to sit on the smooth metal coffin lid. I spread my legs wider and hiked my dress to my waist, my blonde stud leaning forward with one hand planted by my side as his other guided his stiff tool to the opening of my ready vagina. My breath came in a quick gasp as he poked the head in, drawing out and easing back inside a little more. I clamped my hands on his waist, pulling him deeper into me with each thrust until he was pumping his hard hot pipe all the way to the hairy base inside me with every stroke.
