Mafia Aphrodite

by O'Neil De Noux

  Lucy moved back to the stairs, stood with her feet apart and asked the foreman if he’d like to touch her bush. He did, sitting beneath her open legs, his face inches from her pussy as he stared at it, his fingering brushing her pubic hair, then moving under to brush across her pussy lips. The first brush sent a shiver through her, the second kick-started her toward a climax. By the time the burly man had his middle finger inside her, his thumb manipulating her clit, she was on her way to a big one.

  She watched the men leering as their foreman finger-fucked her, watched Sal’s reddening face as he took pictures, saw Cal and Earl standing in the background moving their gaze from her to the surroundings, making sure they were safe as waves of pleasure pulsed through her.

  She let out a high-pitched cry as she neared a climax.

  ‘You like that?’ the foreman said, looking up at her face now.

  ‘Yes. Come on. Finger-fuck me.’

  ‘Baby, that’s what I’m doing.’

  His fingers worked in her until the orgasm overtook her, bending her knees, convulsing through her until she almost collapsed on him. He finally withdrew his fingers as his arms caught her and he kissed her nipples, then her neck, then shoved his tongue into her mouth for a long French kiss.

  When she could breathe almost normally again, Lucy stood and asked, ‘You want me to return the favour? Whip it out and I’ll get you off.’

  ‘No thanks, little lady. We gotta get back to work.’

  Cal moved forward to take Lucy’s hand and lead her back to the SUV, Sal taking more pictures. The construction workers gave Lucy a round of applause as she bent over to climb into the car where Earl waited with a bottle of cool water.

  ‘Where to now?’

  ‘Gulf Shores,’ Lucy said between sips. She slipped on the wrap dress and reapplied her lipstick before they reached the shopping district. She tapped Sal’s crotch as the SUV parked and said, ‘Bring the camera.’

  There weren’t as many pedestrians in the middle of the week and Lucy’s heart began to race again as she thought about shedding the wrap-dress and just strolling naked. Maybe on the way back to the SUV.

  The breeze picked up and fluttered the wrap dress but didn’t open it enough to show anything as they moved past three older men sitting outside a barber shop. The men watched her but didn’t get flashed. Maybe on the way back.

  Sal held her hand as they walked and leaned over to kiss her neck.

  ‘You like the construction site?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ his voice husky with desire.

  Lucy led the way toward a flea market she knew was run by a grizzled old man with a white beard. Wasn’t much of a market, just a narrow wooden building filled with junk. Passing Burke’s Jewellery and Leather Shop, where she’d had Joe Perito’s Mont Blanc pens engraved, she stopped and looked inside. Old man Burke was behind the counter. No customers. Since she hadn’t given him her name, she pulled Sal inside.

  Burke recognised her immediately and said, ‘Nice to see you again.’ He pulled the jeweller’s glasses from his nose. The AC was on high again.

  Lucy motioned for Sal to remain by the door and faced Mr Burke and said, ‘Would you mind if my boyfriend took a picture of me in here?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Lucy unbuttoned the dress and draped it over the glass counter, stood naked facing Mr Burke and smiled at the shock on his face as Sal took a picture. A silly smile came to the old man’s face as he examined her. Lucy turned and gave Sal an ass shot before facing Mr Burke again.

  ‘Thought you wouldn’t mind seeing this,’ she said.

  ‘Any time.’

  She remembered to take her dress.

  The old man at the flea market had a shaggy-grey beard and thick, wiry hair, light blue eyes and a face more tanned than the construction foreman who’d finger-fucked Lucy. She could see the glint in his eyes when she came in and moved around the shop. He told her yes, he had a few vintage dresses in back. He led her through the narrow shop, past mouldy-smelling clothes and dusty bric-a-brac, Sal right behind them.

  Lucy found a lacy black jacket that would almost reach her knees. Thin and transparent with three buttons, she slipped it on as the old man showed her a full-length mirror in the corner.

  ‘You have a dressing room?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘I’d like to see what this looks like without my dress under it.’ Lucy turned to Sal. ‘Keep an eye out for intruders.’ Back to the old man, she said, ‘Mind if I take my dress off?’

  ‘Uh … no … Uh, I guess.’ He took a step back and pulled at his beard for a second before backing away.

  ‘Don’t go anywhere,’ Lucy said, handing him the lacy jacket. He took it and she slipped out of her dress, handing it to him and took the jacket and put it on. In the mirror with the jacket unbuttoned, her bush and both boobs were exposed. She saw the old man checking her out in the mirror and then checking her ass through the see-through material. She turned back to face him as Sal took a picture.

  The jacket was too big, shoulders drooping off Lucy. The old man found another, shorter and just as transparent. Lucy took off the first and put on the second as the back door to the place opened and a young guy stepped in. Lucy closed up the jacket as the old man said this was his grandson.

  ‘How old are you?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘Twenty-two next month, ma’am.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No ma’am.’ He looked younger and stared at her as if he’d never seen a naked woman before. Glancing at the mirror Lucy could see her bush was partially exposed. She turned and gave him a rear shot before taking off the jacket and giving it back to the old man.

  ‘It’s itchy,’ she said.

  ‘I have a white one.’ The old man stepped away and Lucy turned to his grandson who stared at her tits before moving his gaze down to her bush. Her heart was beating fast again and her nipples pointed and tingling.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Jethro, ma’am.’

  ‘Quit calling me ma’am. I’m only a year older than you.’

  The old man stepped back in with a sheer pink penoir and Lucy went through the motions of putting it on and looking in the mirror as if she’d ever buy something so gaudy.

  ‘Jethro here’s getting married Saturday,’ the old man said as Lucy handed him the penoir. ‘His gal’s pretty all right but I bet she ain’t got the goods you’re sportin’.’

  ‘Goods?’ Lucy glanced at Sal who was breathing heavier now as he watched.

  ‘Major league tits like yorn.’

  Yorn?

  Lucy turned back to Jethro and asked him to stand with her. Sandwiched between the old man and Jethro, Lucy smiled at the camera as Sal took another picture.

  ‘I’ll pass on the dresses but we’ll send you a picture or two.’ Lucy slipped her dress back on and led the way back outside. Sal took her hand and squeezed it hard.

  ‘Having a good time?’

  He nodded and let out a long breath. The breeze had picked up by the time they were re-approaching the barber shop where the same three men sat outside. The timing was perfect as the wind opened Lucy’s dress to her waist for a long second. The three men craned their necks forward and gawked. Lucy laughed and stopped next to them.

  ‘Guess you got an eye-full that time.’

  All three men nodded, sitting up straighter now. Lucy nodded for Sal to set up next to them. With her back to the street, she asked Sal if he was ready and he was so she unfastened the wrap dress and opened it for a full front nude shot. The men looked like statues, frozen as they looked at her.

  The men were still frozen stiff as Lucy and Sal moved away. Just as they were about to get into the SUV, Cal and Earl standing there with cans of Coke-Cola, a woman’s voice called out behind them.

  ‘Hello there.’

  Lucy turned to a middle-aged woman with light brown hair. The woman wore an artist’s smock over jeans and white tennis shoes. She smiled and extended her hand for Lu
cy to shake.

  ‘I’m Patty Smith.’ They shook hands and Patty brushed strands of hair from her face. ‘I have a gallery across the street.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘I was hoping you’d drop in to take a look at my art.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You’re a model, aren’t you? I watched you model for the men outside the barber shop.’ She was being cute now.

  ‘You mean flashing them for a picture?’

  ‘Yes. Come on. It’ll only take a minute. I need models.’

  Something in the woman’s lively blue eyes urged Lucy to go along and she did, Sal lagging behind. They crossed to a two-storey white wooden Victorian house with a wide gallery out front. The foyer smelled of lilac, the parquet floor shining. Off to the right was a large room, a gallery filled with oils and acrylics, some water colours. All nude women, some lone portraits, some naked women in groups. No sex acts, just naked feminine beauty. The vivid colours, deep hues reminded Lucy of Van Gogh, maybe a hint of Monet, all post impressionistic and very striking.

  ‘Wow,’ Lucy said, catching a glimpse of Sal appreciating the art and the bodies, no doubt.

  ‘I don’t mean to be pushy, but models are hard to come by here,’ said Patty. ‘As you can see, the backgrounds are nondescript but I like to work from live models. I hope you’ll consider standing for me.’

  Lucy shrugged. ‘Actually tomorrow I’ll be heading away from here and won’t be back for quite a while.’

  Patty nodded. ‘May I offer you a drink? Iced tea? Lemonade?’

  ‘Lemonade would be nice.’ Lucy looked at Sal. ‘Lemonade?’

  ‘Sure. Thanks.’

  Patty came back with a tray with three glasses. Lucy was examining a portrait of a woman with a forest green face a body of turquoise and violet eyes, a perfectly rendered body of a slim woman captured in strange colours.

  ‘I see you as you are, flesh coloured, dark brown hair and I wouldn’t change your eyes one bit.’ Patty passed out the drinks and Lucy’s throat braced from the icy tart lemonade. Patty stared into her eyes with such intensity Lucy couldn’t help stare back until the artist pulled her gaze away. Pointing to a portrait of a statuesque woman standing beneath a willow tree, Patty said, ‘That’s one of the real backgrounds I used. Outside Enterprise, Alabama. An excellent model, but awfully shy. A farmer came upon us and she was so mortified, she couldn’t pose for a week. A strange man had seen her naked.’

  Patty put her drink down, moved up to Lucy and touched her chin, raising Lucy’s head slightly, moving so the light could catch her. ‘You have such wonderful skin and such superb lips.’ Over her shoulder, she spoke to Sal. ‘I’ll bet she’s stunning naked.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘And she’s not shy. Not from what I saw across the street. Those old men will have something to talk about for the rest of their lives.’

  Patty placed her hands on Lucy’s shoulders, looking into her eyes again, then slowly drew her hands down to Lucy’s waist.

  Uh, oh. What’s this?

  Lucy felt her pulse rising again as Patty slowly pulled the dress off Lucy’s shoulders, letting it drop to her waist. Still staring into Lucy’s eyes, Patty unfastened the wrap and let the dress fall to the floor. She looked down at Lucy’s breasts, let out a deep breath and said, ‘Beautiful pale aureoles.’

  Patty’s fingers traced across Lucy’s breasts, curled beneath them and lifted them slightly. Lucy’s breathing increased and she looked at Sal for help. He took a picture. Patty began feeling up Lucy’s boobs, leaning down to kiss her nipples, nibble them then suck them. When her fingers found the bush, Lucy jumped.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Patty said breathlessly. ‘A woman knows how to pleasure another woman.’

  That wasn’t the problem. The problem was Lucy was getting turned on. Big time. As soon as Patty’s fingers slipped into Lucy, a wave shot through her. She closed her eyes and let it rip. Long fingernails inside her made her bounce on her toes, but Patty knew what she was doing, softer and more exacting than the gnarly fingers of the construction foreman.

  Lucy’s second finger-driven orgasm of the day almost collapsed her. Patty directed her to a loveseat, spread Lucy’s legs and kissed her pussy lips. The tonguing was expertly done, drawing a quick outside climax, building another deep in Lucy. The tongue, vibrating as it licked, shot through Lucy in waves of pleasure. Just as she was about to come, Patty pulled away and told Sal, ‘Put the camera down. She needs some dick.’

  Panting, Lucy watched Sal put the camera down, drop his pants and reach for Lucy’s purse for a condom. He pulled the rubber on his swollen cock, moved to her pussy and impaled her, curling her back as he filled her then began long, deep strokes. The climax built in her from deep inside and convulsed her before he came, pounding her furiously and collapsed, leaving her gasping.

  Patty brought more iced lemonade. As Lucy took a sip, Patty looked down at her open pussy and said, ‘Thanks for the taste.’

  Outside, on their way back to the SUV, Lucy told Sal, ‘That was the first time I’ve been with a woman.’

  ‘You seemed to like it.’

  Lucy tucked her arm around his. ‘Yeah, but I needed a cock to finish me off, so I guess I’m as heterosexual as you.’

  Sal laughed and looked younger, like a mischievous boy, rather cute actually. His limp was a little more noticeable. Probably from the exertion of the good fucking.

  ‘Are you political, Mr Comodo?’

  ‘Not really. We support the Democratic Party though our labour unions, but I’m not active.’

  ‘Are there any politicians you like or trust?’

  ‘Are you kidding?’

  The heat wave drew clouds from the gulf, huge burgeoning masses of bulbous grey clouds, glowing silver around the edges, looking like a fat face getting ready to huff and puff. Lucy watched them moving in, the first fat raindrops splattering against the balcony’s glass doors. Naked, she turned to Sal who lay atop the covers of her bed, cock sticking straight up like a barber’s pole.

  He’d not sweated as he had when they’d first met. He seemed more confident, limping only after some hard sex work. Smiling in anticipation, he drew a smile in response. Sal Comodo made Lucy’s heart swell, not just from sexual excitement but from something else, something warmer. Love maybe? Who knew?

  They made love with the storm behind them, like a movie soundtrack, thunder shaking the house, lightning forking over the gulf water, crashing into the sea, filling the sky with bright-white flashes like a gigantic strobe recording their lovemaking on invisible film. As the storm grew in intensity, the passion rose until Lucy and her lover climaxed just before the storm waned suddenly, as they did in semi-tropics. Their bodies, gently cooled by the ceiling fan, sleep overtaking both as a light drizzle tapped against the house, drumming the two young lovers into a deep slumber.

  Lucy woke to Sal’s voice echoing in her memory. The way he’d said, ‘I’ll make a good husband for someone pretty like you. I work hard.’

  She looked at him as he slept next to her, moonlight streaming through the French doors. The rain had stopped. Lucy sat up and heard Sal’s voice again. How had he put it? ‘I’ll never let you down, Lucy. Never.’

  She reached over to touch his cock, hesitated, got up and went to the bathroom. Out on the balcony, she let the night breeze flow over her, pulling her long hair away from her face. Moving around the gallery, she looked at the caretakers’ house and saw them. The Zazzeras sat on beach chairs, side by side on their gallery, two pair of binoculars eyeballing Lucy who turned on the light to make sure they got a good view.

  Looking back at them, she felt those ogling lens on her skin, felt drawn to them, as if mesmerised by them, hypnotized. Lucy moved to the stairs and went down to the sandy beach, turned and headed for the ogling binocs. When she got close she saw them pull the binoculars away and stare down at her.

  She went up the stairs and Z-man turned on the porch light. His older brother stood in Lucy’s path, fists on his
hips as he watched her breasts. She moved closer and he reached out and took her breasts in his hands, rubbing them softly before squeezing them. His gazed fixed on her boobs. His right hand slowly moved down to her bush, fingers working their way into her and began moving in and out quickly.

  Over his shoulder he told Z-man something in Italian. Z-man moved a cushioned beach chair under the light as Guido the elder guided Lucy to it, left hand still kneading her breast, right hand still finger-fucking her. He directed her to the chair, opening her legs with both hands and stood between her legs as he unzipped his corduroy pants, dropped them, then shoved down his boxer shorts.

  In the yellow light his dark olive skin looked orange, his drooping moustache thicker, giving his face a frown as he stared at the open pussy. His cock was thick and stood straight out as he pressed the tip of it against her pussy. No condom for this old world fucker. She looked at Z-man and almost told them to slow down. She had condoms in her purse on the nightstand. Why didn’t she bring them? At least she was on the pill. The chances of these old men having anything she could catch was minimal. She hoped.

  Guido shoved his cock all the way in and Lucy cried out. He worked his cock slowly, his gaze moving from her bush to her tits and back again. He was fucking her body parts. It didn’t matter who she was. She was a pussy and tits and that sent a charge through Lucy. She watched this old moustache-Pete fuck her and realised, this was the way they’d done it in Sicily, probably forever.

  A woman was meant for pleasuring a man. Bring it here, open the pussy and let me at it. His probing grew in intensity as he took his pleasure, driving to one thing – his orgasm. He grunted, said something else in Italian and Z-man seem to agree. The sex was forceful, no kissing, no affection, just fucking. The old Siciliano held on to her hips as he fucked that pussy. Lucy came as Guido shot a stale load into her and kept pumping in her when he was spent. Still not looking her in the eye, he pulled out and waved his younger brother forward.

  Z-man moved right in, Lucy still trying to catch her breath. The only variation in the fucking was Z-man leaning over and grabbing Lucy’s hands, pinning her down forcefully, the stale smell of his body over her as he fucked her the same way his brother had, shoving the cock in, working it up and working it feverishly until he came. The pressure on her hands increased with the intensity of Z-man’s pounding.