Being the president of a powerful company is not an easy task, especially if the company is involved in aggressive take overs of other companies and mergers. That unfortunately was my role and often it was a lonely place to dwell in.
I am Guido Salvatore, and I became the de facto president of what was called, "El Salvatore" after my dad died. For many years, I had been prepared for the position. He had sent me to college to learn the technical part of administration and had personally taught me the ropes of the business.
I had been his confidante and counsellor for many years and so there was no doubt when he passed suddenly at the age of 70, that I would take over the company.
My mother was an earthy Sicilian woman who as Rudyard Kipling termed it, "could walk with kings nor lose the common touch." She was ten years younger than my dad and had that mix of sophistication and streetwiseness that enabled him to be successful. She supported him as his wife but had no compunction telling him when she felt it, that he was a "fucking idiot!"
He loved that duality about her and her sometimes foul mouth utterances, in private. Those who didn't really know her, felt that she was of pristine character and genteel as they come! I knew better. I had seen her cut some people to shreds with a cold gaze or a well-placed repartee.
There were only two people who really knew her, Dad and I, and we were two of the few for whom she had any respect. She loved the fact that we were not intimidated by her sometimes-brassy exterior.
After dad died, I took over the business, running it as he would have wanted but adding my flair and stamp in a way that was different from his. Mom loved that I just didn't try to be a carbon copy of him but was my own man.
Unlike dad, I knew how to get to her and do it without incurring her wrath, not that dad did, but I could make her back down on occasion, in a way that made her smile!
At thirty, I married a woman who I liked but did not love. It was a business-type situation, that was for the good for the company. Elisa was a beautiful woman who was a stick in the mud. She wanted everything in life to be cut and dried. Most of all, she was a sexual prude, who did not believe in cock-sucking nor anal sex. She also felt that sexual intercourse more than once a week was a perversion! Needless to say, we had our differences. We thought that we kept them under wraps, and no one noticed, but Maria Salvatore, my mother, saw through all of that.
Mom wore the finest clothes, expensive lingerie and maintained an air of great sophistication when in public. She liked garter belts and stockings, half shelf bras and basques and fine corsets, chemises and beautiful silk panties. She even had a few crotchless one thrown in for good measure! Given the size of some of them, I am not sure if they qualified as panties, but she loved them.
In private, however, she would often walk around in silk slips with no bra, letting her big titties bounce all they wanted and sometimes sans panties, letting her shapely ass free to do its own thing. I noticed that this behavior escalated after dad died, particularly when she and I were alone. Under these silk slips I could tell that she often wore thongs. Her body at sixty was good. While buxom, housing her big- nippled, 40DD's, she had wide hips and good thick thighs.
Her face had few wrinkles. Mostly a few lines around the corners of her eyes and her mouth and she had that swarthy Italian complexion and smooth skin that people loved. She was still a good-looking woman at sixty. Her jet-black hair was now streaked with gray, giving her gray eyes a smoky illusion.
She never seemed to like my wife, Elisa, much, but treated her well, understanding the politics of the situation and what business often demanded.
Often, I asked her how come she never remarried, and she would laugh and respond that she had two men in her life, my father and me, and those were enough!
Elisa appeared to have little interest in the business and that suited me fine. Our marriage allowed me to access the benefits of her dad's company and together with what our company offered see them both improve. She seemed to do little else but play bridge with her friends and involve herself with social causes. We had no children.
After dad died, I sold the old house and Mom moved into ours as it had more than enough room. She had a suite on the first floor which led, by its own stairwell, to a side door to my private suite on the second floor. No one but she and I even knew that it existed!
My bedroom suite was next door to my private suite. I worked mostly in my private suite until after midnight. Many nights I would be working there, and mom would come upstairs by the back stairway, with two glasses of brandy or cognac when she knew that Elisa was asleep. We would discuss the status of the company or the happenings of the day until she retired downstairs. Often, under a loosely cinched robe, she would wear only a slip, with some exotic type of thong underneath, which she sometimes showed me and asked my opinion of how it looked on her.
Occasionally, it would appear as if she were extremely horny, because her huge nipples would elevate the silk material. On those occasions, she made no attempt to cover them but observed me slyly feasting my eyes on them as she smiled surreptitiously.
Most of those occasions were after a particularly challenging week when she thought that Elisa should be there to comfort me and wasn't.
She always said that a wife's roles were threefold. To love and support her husband, to talk to him honestly and to have her every hole available to him when he needed her!
Imagining her and dad in bed, I would snidely ask,
"Every hole?"
She would get a coquettish expression on her face and say,
"Yes, every hole!" and laugh!
She and I both had birthdays in December, and as I celebrated my forty-second birthday, she turned sixty-two. It had been a particularly gruesome week and exacting week, and I was wiped out.
Elisa was in Italy visiting family and was gone for three weeks. I was in my private suite lying on the bed, with the television on, my shirt unbuttoned, still wearing my slacks and socks, when I heard a soft knock on the stairway door. Her voice asked if I was asleep. I told her to come in, as I had done many times before.
She stepped in with two glasses of brandy as usual, walked over to the bed and gave me one. As we sipped in silence she said,
"I guess its been a hard week. When is Elisa coming back?"
"In three weeks," I responded.
We sat silently sipping until the glasses were empty, then she said,
"I know why you are married to that woman, but she is not a wife to you. When last has she given you some pussy?"
Unsurprised, as I was long accustomed to her direct and unvarnished conversation, I replied,
"Not in a while."
"Then its time somebody did." She informed me.
With that she stood up, turned the television off, turned the lights down and removed her robe.
She was naked.
I started to sit up and she pushed me back down.
"Stay still." She whispered.
She removed my socks, and my shirt, unbuckled and removed my slacks and pulled my shorts down. While this was happening, her large titties were swinging back and forth across my face. Between her legs was a sparse patch of graying hair that was well manicured, and I could smell her heat!
As I looked at her sumptuous body, my cock rose and stood majestically.
"Jesus H. Christ," her voice quivered, "You've got a big cock! Even your daddy's cock was not this big, and he had a big one!
As she climbed into the bed, I could see the sheen of glistening moisture dribbling between her cunt lips.
She lay on her stomach between my legs and grasped my cock with both hands. She licked the head like an ice-cream cone and then sucked the sensitive frenum underneath.
