The Boss’ Trophy Wife part 2

The Boss’ Trophy Wife part 2

This writer’s imagination has been working overtime, so now I’ll bring you a mixture of true events and fantasy.
************
About eight months after I began working for Joy, I began seeing a few signs of worry in her face. I didn’t worry too much about it when I was slamming her pussy or asshole, or getting my nuts off into her mouth. One day, after a session of hot sex in one of the motel rooms, Joy asked me if I’d just lay beside her and hold her a while.
I had no problem with curling my arms around Joy and pulling her naked body to mine. I’d done exactly the same thing so many times. I couldn’t help but think of how much she reminded me of the TV personality, Kelly Ripa. Even as old as Joy was, her legs were nicer than Kelly’s, and her tits… as small as they were, you could definitely tell she had some nice ones (except when she was lying on her back, when you could only see the fine nipples). Sometimes, Kelly’s tits appear to be completely non-existent. Joy’s hair is shorter, but about the same color… her stylist takes care of the grey.

As she slowly stroked my limp cock, I asked, “Something bothering you today, Puss?” I had tagged the nickname on her several months ago and she didn’t seem to mind it at all.

“I’ve been thinking about mother a lot, the last couple of days. She enjoyed your cock as much as I do. I wish she was still here with us, just one more time.”

***** Della, Joy’s mom, had died at the age of 78, just two weeks before. She had been a fixture at the truck plaza’s casino, and loved to flirt.

My mind drifted back to the first time she had joined one of our ‘sessions’. It was a hot summer day and Joy had already filled me in on Della’s needs. She had undergone a series of surgeries on her female organs during her forties. As a result, she had no sexual feelings inside her pussy cavity. By chance, she discovered that she could still orgasm with her asshole stuffed full of cock or a dildo.

We all met at Della’s condo, on the bank of the Mississippi, in St. Louis’s French Quarter. Mid-day found all her younger neighbors at work or running errands. Della would never even answer the front door without her make-up on. When I knocked, she opened the door wide. Her make-up made her look years younger, but it was her birthday suit that caught my eye. She was small, like Joy. Her tits hung flat against her rib cage. In fact, loose skin hung everywhere, except her ample ass.

“Come on in, Don. I know you’re probably wondering why you got involved with a crazy old woman who likes getting ass fucked.”

“Now, now… let’s don’t talk about Joy when she’s not around to defend herself.” I bent down, tweaked an old nipple, and whispered, “Even though she’s crazy, she gives the best blow job within a hundred miles in any direction. Besides, I guess she gets her love of anal from her lovely mom.” I kissed the old lady on the forehead and winked at Joy, who was standing five feet behind her with a smile on her pretty face.

“Pffft, I’m not talking about Joy and you know it. My poor old body didn’t look like this forty years ago, you should have known me then.”

“I damn sure wish I had known both of you forty years ago. So what’s on tap for today, ladies? I took a Cialis about two hours ago and I brought along my cock pump, too, just in case ol’ Fat Boy doesn’t want to cooperate.”

Joy led the way to Della’s bedroom.