Extending the Milf List

Giving a Mother and Daughter to a Lucky Guy

On Wednesday I got a text from Suzanne. After the last time I saw her, I hoped I did not delay too long. I actually waited till class was over before I dashed to the car and drove like a maniac to the Savvy Savoy, a bed and breakfast outfit on two floors of the Samite Savoy downtown. I had wandered into the lower lobby once or twice but had never been in a room.

I had no idea how things were done. The concierge directed me downstairs with a slight sneer when I said I was there to meet someone. I looked like what I was a college student freezing my ass off in the cold snap that turned all the snow to frozen dust.

The lower lobby had no desk like you normally think of but little offices and you went in and sat down and someone brought you a drink. Hot tea, in my case. I told them I was expected in room 2105, she sneered and dialed the number. A moment later the uptight broad waved me away in the company of a slight little guy no taller than Annie who spoke with a European accent. He took me up to the floor and unlocked a door to a hallway.

"At the end, just ring the bell." He said.

I shook my head, thinking I should tell Suzanne not to be so fucking complicated. I did as instructed but when the door opened, I was confronted by a distinguished, well-dressed man.

He had white hair, but did not look old, having none of the wrinkles that white hair usually accompanied. He looked curiously tanned for this time of year and fit, far more fit than I felt at that moment and more fit than I thought he was.

I recovered before he did. "Oh, Mr. Northcutt, I didn't expect to meet you at, er, exactly this time."

He looked suitably startled but my words seemed to push him into motion. He nodded and smiled widely. "I would introduce myself but it seems you have an advantage of me. Won't you come in." It was not an invitation.

"I am not sure I am welcome." I returned. "Why don't we just say you caught her and I'll go back to my world and no one will be the wiser."

He shook his head. "Doesn't work that way, my boy. I have to catch you with her or she must confess. She has been curiously silent about finding such a handsome young man to bang."

My confirmation that I had guessed correctly, that this was indeed Borland Northcutt, did not make me feel any more comfortable. All that thrill rattling around in me as sexual excitement turned tail and ran like cottontails for the hills, leaving me standing there with a rapidly deflating cock, a mixed blessing if you know what I mean.

"Won't you come in, a, I don't know your name. I just have your phone number."

I nodded and stepped past him into the sumptuous room. It was a girl's room, all frilly and cute. Suzanne would have fit perfectly in this place, tied up and screaming while I fucked her. That thought, unbidden in my brain I swear, made my stomach turn over.

"A drink?" Mr. Northcutt said affably.

He didn't seem to be pissed but that actually made me much more nervous. Is it better to be killed by someone who smiles while they do it or someone who is crazy with rage? At that moment, I was wishing for a little rage if I was going to die so at least I'd have notice to run.

"Something strong, I think."

"Scotch?"

I nodded.

"Sit down. I'll pour it myself. I sent the butler away. No need for his aid this afternoon, I thought."

Oh, sure, send the butler away, no witnesses! I took a long deep breath and shrugged. I had had a great deal of wonderful pussy. Inevitably, these things were going to happen and if I was going to fuck other men's wives, it was clear I was going to have to deal with men who thought they owned those wives. I resolved to face up to the situation with as much poise as I could muster.

However, when the man sat both drinks down on the knee table between the white easy chair where I sat and the one where he sat, I immediately leaned over and switched them, his for mine and mine for his.

For a moment, Borland Northcutt stared at the table and suddenly he burst out laughing. He laughed and laughed till he could not breathe, finally lifting his/my glass to his lips and sipping the amber liquid which actually made him gasp and cough.

When he was recovered, he looked at me and grinned. "Now that is funny. Insulting but funny. Poison is the weapon for women, don't you know?"

I nodded. I did know that but still, one cannot be too careful.

"I, I laughed because I too remember The Princess Bride." He grinned, "never engage in a land war in Asia!" He laughed again. "What's that little actor's name? The guy with the poison?"

"No idea." I sipped more of the scotch and realized this was very, very good scotch. Shit, like I could tell, but I could.

"He was the same guy in My Dinner with Andre, a talk fest for lonely intellectuals and voyeurs who wanted to watch a conversation, presumably I suppose because they could not engage in one of that sort themselves."

His casual reference seemed to sober the man.

I drank more of the scotch. Fancy or not, it warmed the cockles of my heart and made the top of my head feel like it was about to lift off. I set the glass down. "What can I do for you, Mr. Borland?"

"Well, sir, your name would be a nice place to start."

God, what a putz I am sometimes! I extended my hand, "Sonny Duncan." I said. I almost said, at your service, but feared he might suggest I open a window and jump out.

"Sonny Duncan. Hmm. I suppose you are wondering why you are here speaking with me and not my wife."

I nodded, suddenly my mouth was dry and I wished for water and not more scotch. My heart hammered so hard I figured the scotch would be affecting my brain immediately, bypassing the stomach and intestinal tract. For all I know, it just wafted up my nasal passages and set right to killing braincells without any intermediate stops.

"I have her phone cloned when I can get my hands on it without her knowledge. Once she figures it out she gets a new one and I have to do it again. It's a game we play, serious and fun at the same time. I found your number on her phone. Not her burner phone, her other one. The one she uses to call me. I, I have been waiting to see if she called it again, just in case it was a girl friend or a barber or some such falderrah but she never called the number again. I had the number traced and I have to confess, I already knew your name when you sat down, if indeed the phone number is indeed yours. I try to be careful about jumping to conclusions. The name you offered matches my expectations."

Again, this did not calm me even a little. I decided to try to respond rather than just plead for mercy. I wondered if my voice would quiver when I spoke. It came out surprisingly strong. I had to consciously relax and not talk quit so loud or he might think I was hard hearing.

"So Suzanne explained your little arrangement, between you and her. Did she leave out the part about where you punished the cock that went into her or was she accurate by implication by just telling me about the punishment for her, when you catch her."

"I haven't caught her yet." He said. "She told you about our arrangement? That is fresh."

Fresh? An interesting turn of a phrase.

"Just what did she tell you, exactly?"

I thought about trying to make something up but decided if I was getting her in trouble, that was her problem. I had no idea how to help and had no hope of keeping a lie straight with my porous memory, so I laid out my understanding of their "arrangement" as best I recalled how Suzanne recounted it to me.

Borland listened quietly, unperturbed by any of the particulars. In fact, when I was finished, he merely nodded. "Yes, that seems to be exactly how Suzanne would describe it."

Now I knew we were talking about the same woman, in name at least, and I hadn't gotten a wrong text somehow, one intended for some other lucky guy. Funny, I could not even tell if I was being sarcastic or not, lucky or unlucky. Both worked.

"How did you all meet?" He asked next.

I explained that to him, leaving just about everything out, including where and when and who was there besides his wife and me.

"So, you helped her betray me?"

That seemed like the exact right question to dodge but I didn't. Regarding that particular, event I was just being helpful.

When I said so, Borland nodded. "And, did you see her after that? You must have or, or how did she get your phone number?"

I had to fabricate place and position to explain the call to her phone, the one she lost somewhere in Sam Honeywell's apartment.

"And have you seen her since then?"

I admitted I had. In response to his inquiry I laid out my visit to the hotel the first time. I left out the other woman. I saw no reason to include that and get Suzanne in more trouble. What do I know?

"And did another woman appear?"

I nodded, caught, trying not to act guilty. I launched into a PG rated version of our calisthenics, being complimentary of both Suzanne and Pixie equally. When I finished, the man nodded.

"So you are the one."

"I am the one? What one?" I finished the rest of the scotch in a gulp.

The man shook his head and asked if I had seen her since that night.

I nodded. I said nothing more. I hoped he'd leave well enough alone and let me avoid recounting the last time I saw Suzanne Northcutt. No such luck.

"Tell me about that meeting."

I lifted the glass and made a show of peering into the bottom of it. He laughed and gave me more. "Good, isn't it?"

"Good? Really? I am talking to the husband of a woman I have had phenomenal sex with and you want my review of the scotch that is keeping me alive?"

He chuckled. "Oh, the scotch isn't what is keeping you alive." He said.

Of course that made me feel great! Just fucking great! He did not say what was keeping me alive and I realized that we agreed something was keeping me alive. A cold shiver ran up my suddenly limber spine.

"So? That last time you saw, as you say, my wife?"

I tried to be delicate while explaining about fucking her in a stairwell but by the time I got to her going down on the woman after our little group of tourists left, I gave up and got into the gory details. I filled them all out as fully as I could, making it X-rated and to the max. Now, I don't know why I did but I felt stupid trying to tell the story without using "pussy" or "she ate her" or that sort of language so finally I lost patience and went with good Anglo-Saxon descriptions, like "fuck" and "cock". I think I included some pretty good reviews of the women involved but frankly, I don't remember. I do know when I was done the scotch was gone and, I was, well, I was woozy.

Borland nodded and set his glass down, looked at it and got up and poured some for himself. He looked at me. "I think you have had enough, unless you took a taxi here. If you drove, I am cutting you off. How old are you anyway?"

"Twenty. Twenty-one in March."

He chuckled and shook his head. "The bitch is robbing the cradle now." He muttered.

I objected. "Hey, I resemble that remark. I mean I resent that remark."

Borland smiled again. "My wife and I, yes, we have a different sort of relationship but she doesn't really understand its true nature. I confess, her taste in men seems to have improved since she married me. When I first met her, she seemed unwilling to take anyone to bed younger than twenty-two. After, she seems to have sworn off such delectable tidbits until now. I chalked it up to refusing the forbidden fruit that if she tasted it once more would make her lose her taste for me, so I never complained."

I shook my head. I was quit woozy so the truth came out on the tongue of the vino. "No, no, that isn't right I don't think. She lost taste for all other men after she met you. She said the sex with you was so phenomenal she could not go back to...that sounds fatuous doesn't it?"

"Fatuous?"

"Is that the right word? Maybe I mean, uh, I don't know what I mean. Does it sound unlikely?"

Borland shook his head. "No, no, I don't mean that. I, I am not surprised that she avers that we do it for each other. She does and as far as her account of our history goes, she is perfectly correct. Had she not deflected me and continued on the path as we began, we'd be living in fridge boxes by now."

"And she'd be hooking to pay your bills." I said helpfully. When the man just stared at me, I realized I may have overstepped somewhat and clamped my flapping gums closed. Sometimes being helpful isn't helpful.

"If you can listen, Mr. Duncan, I want to explain my side of her story. Yes, we encountered each other as mutual, searing sexual attraction that literally destroyed my marriage and nearly destroyed me in the process. Calling it a compulsion is perfectly accurate from my point of view so that matches hers perfectly.

"It is the part after that that needs some more elucidation. We did spend a couple years working out the terms of our sexual congress."

"Fuck congress." I muttered and Borland actually glared at me but then his face relaxed.

"I know some perfectly fine people who served in congress. I presume you don't so it is unfair to judge them till you know them and their conundrums."

I nodded, properly chastened.

"Suzanne, she saved us. I mean, I was so besotted I would have let her fuck me into my grave. I collapsed finally from lack of sleep, at the office where I was consulting. It was horrifying. She told me we couldn't keep going on like this. She decided to go back to work and couldn't find a job. Thank god. She decided to start her own business and couldn't get the money for it. I had cash and I was just waiting for it, waiting for her to ask. I wanted her to but instead, instead she found a better approach."

Northcutt shook his head, smiling a little, his gray eyes sparkling. "She fucked a guy on the plane to come see me. No, that was later, she just blew the guy she was sitting with. Twice. When she confessed, I thought for a moment I had nuc'd my family and wrecked Carol Lynn...my ex-wife, what? For nothing. I was sick but then I decided, I couldn't let this all fall apart. Suzanne did it but she confessed and damn if I wasn't rigid as uncooked spaghetti. I decided if I left things that way, then we were fucked. I went out and found a woman, took her back to the hotel and fucked her. I, I think I ate her first and then I got carried away and fucked her.

"Frankly, I don't really remember. I do remember that when I realized I had fucked the woman, with Suzanne watching, I was horrified. I couldn't just confess, Suzanne had watched the whole time. I decided I had forgiven her, maybe she would forgive me. I asked what I had to do to make this right and she told me to write her a check.

"Now, what she didn't know was that I had people on her. Two people a man and a woman watching her. I was doing business with some fucked up people at the time and they were doing business with some other fucked up people and I worried that they might get us tangled up in their fucked up situation, so I had body guards up on her. I did with Carol Lynn and the kids too. The deal was lucrative so I could afford the expense. They told me about her blowing the guy in the plane before she confessed. You know, you hear about these things and you have to be cool, particularly if you are an old accountant with a hot young wife that looks like Suzanne. But when she confessed, it blew me away.

"I had to figure out a way to make this work, a way to keep her, even if she tended to lose focus and blow another guy or fuck him or whatever. I was 53 years old, how much was I going to complain and still be evenhanded? I, I spent my younger years chasing enlightenment and this guy finally kicked me off the spiritual merry-go-round. Know what he told me? He said keep the best in your life, pay the price for it and let all the rest go. Dodge the price and the price goes up and, often, you lose everything instead.

"I did that with Suzanne. After she confessed, I committed to keeping her, doing whatever she needed. Turns out she needed all of my money. Once I ran out of cash, not assets, just cash, mind you, I understood what she must have felt, dependent on me all the time. I went to her and asked her to pay the bills I had coming in because she had all my cash. She did. I depended on her and she reveled in that.

"That makes an impression on guy. We went on like that. I'd seduce some woman and Suzanne would catch me. But then it happened. I, I had a heart attack and our active sex life was destined to slow down. Suzanne fucked the heart specialist and got a personal consultation after I watched them fuck all evening. She does love to be watched.

"Suzanne did an amazing thing. She started fucking around more. Not less. I got to watch her do a woman the first time. She had twins, a brother and a sister, a son and father. Each time I got to punish her with some fantasy I could no longer live out on my own. Talk about sexual surrogates.

"Then, and I am not proud of this, then one of my clients, an associate really with whom I was negotiating for a contract, he made some snotty comment about Suzanne and I told him she could fuck him into putty. He said I could have everything I wanted if she could and would. I had to punish her for blowing somebody or some such shit so I threw her into the deal. I sent her to fuck the guy and she did and I got everything in the contract. That's where this all began.

"That has become our pattern, particularly since I fuck like a mime now. Sex for us is a cross between a Kabuki play and a Catholic communion but more fun, actually. Oh, and with less clothing. Which brings me to why you are here.

"Sonny, Pixie, you know who that is right?"

My cock reared up and testified. It was embarrassing for me, as a perfectly straight guy getting a woody talking to this old guy. You fuck Pixie and see if just the mention of her name in casual conversation doesn't make you hard.

"Ah, yes, I know whom you mean."

"I won her in a card game. I mean, I got her for the holidays. I had gotten involved with a guy named, Mr. Crakowovski. He and I were negotiating, still are as a matter of fact, and he wanted Suzanne in the worst way. I had no pending punishment so I couldn't include her. Mr. C lured me into a poker game figuring I sucked at it but I count cards. He has way more money than I do so I kept wagers low and reasonable. Finally he got around to betting something good and wanted me to bet Suzanne. I had a hell of a hand and figured it would be interesting if I lost her in a card game. He anted up till I got him to bet his 'sexual savant'. I had no idea what that was but other people at the table assured me if Mr. C was betting her, it was worth the risk. I won Pixie.

"Then Suzanne confessed to boning a guy on the subway and I had a punishment. Next time Mr. C brought it up, I offered her ass up. She loves strange more than any woman I have ever known. If she wasn't so smart and talented, she'd make a fortune as a hooker. Anyway, he insisted that I be able to demonstrate that my wife actually fucks around. Now, understand, this whole deal was about fucking with me. In the circles I run in, people are always fucking with each other. One guy made another promise to streak through his ex-wife's marriage ceremony. The guy really wanted to fuck with her and this way he had to do it for business so it was a penalty that he wanted. Its like that, like rich folks' Christmas which is getting something you want but would never get yourself because wanting it is so embarrassing.

"That is what I am talking about, we include shit in deals that are fun but impossibly difficult or awkward, like that. Mr. C insisted that Pixie had to taste the cum of another man in my wife.