Whatever it was, after the first evening I found myself waiting anxiously for her to appear, and it would have taken fire or flood to have got me off the veranda while they were working together below me. The motel was nothing flash, they liked to call themselves a family motel, but it was very comfortable and all the staff were friendly, none more so than the buxom waitress who seemed to run the restaurant. I got the distinct impression she had taken a fancy to me, and although the unspectacular uniform she was wearing couldn’t disguise the rich curves of her figure, perhaps because she knew the reason for my visit, our brief conversations remained limited to my aunt and the respect the town had held her in. As funeral’s go, it went well. After the service I spent a couple of hours at the house of a cousin who had taken charge of all the arrangements, meeting and making small-talk with my aunt’s friends and some of my other distant relatives. So it was late afternoon before I could. She raises one eyebrow and then, excruciatingly slowly, reaches out with one finger. One immaculately painted red nail digs into my cheek, and then like a cat she drags it across my skin. The pain is sharp and surprising, and I can’t stop myself from wincing. I’m sore all over and she’s taking the fun out of it, standing over me. I want so badly to safeword - but I’m scared to say it in case you ignore it. You never have before, but it’s always been just the two of us in the past. “I want to fuck her in the ass.” Your smile gets even wider, somehow. I try desperately to shake my head but you just wave one hand as if to say, go ahead. As she moves around the table, I take small relief in the fact that I don’t have to look at her smug face anymore. Until she leans over me to whisper in my ear. “Don’t expect any more lube than the saliva you put on my dick when I fucked your slutty little face.” I’ll give her this, she’s true to her word. Barely seconds pass before she’s forcing her.
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