Cecil, a Recorder, and Gladys

Writing can really kick you in the ass—trying to make a living at it, I mean. I don't tell people about it; after a certain age it gets a bad reaction as in: "Geez, you ever write anything I'd know?"

I'd guess not.

Yet I go on.

With so many burned bridges behind me, I continued the 'write, submit, wait, reject' routine, until I said, "Enough with this!"

I had an idea. What I did was put an ad in one of those coffee shop freebies—you know the ones with the all the jokes and such. It read: "Will do biographies of your aging loved ones. Do it before it's too late." By some coincidence, the quote 'When an old man dies, a library burns down' ran beside it on its first running. Weird. But I liked it.

And by damn, it worked! The first few jobs went well; I even went on a few dates with a pretty granddaughter. She wanted to marry a 'real writer', so whatever, no hard feelings. I wished her all the luck in the world.

Some of the stories I collected, the ones told in front of weepy families, were downright touching. Such were the war adventures, tame romance in hard times, typical of the human condition. The odd time I'd hit on a live one—unfit to print as told. I can assure you, no family members were present for the following story—a nurse loitered around, but that's it.

All names, places changed...bla, bla, over eighteen. You get the idea.

******

My meeting with Cecil Andress:

"Sit down young man, no not there. At my desk. I used to write too, so don't get too smart now," said the man. He was a real antique by the name of Cecil, north of eighty, or so they told me. He had lived as a handsome man, but hit the wall pretty hard, and there he lay. "I used to write, but they slammed me into this fricken' nursing home. Prison with bedpans is more like it."

"Well okay. My name is Frank. Pleased to meet you."

He scanned me though his trembling spectacles, held out at arm's length. "Fuck if you are. I know you. You're my no-good grandnephew Eddy the Pussy Hound. Don't you go bullshitting this old man."

Oh dear.

"Okay. Where to start? They didn't tell me much," I replied.

"Listen Eddy, I'm going to tell you something. I know you can handle it. You might have a relative, or a shit load of relatives by now. Up North. You ready? I don't reckon on repeatin' myself."

I nodded. I waved my microphone around, not that he noticed.

"Fuckin' kid. You ready Eddy?"

"Yes Sir!"

"That's more like it." His jaws rotated—he slurped at his juice box. I detected the faint scent of booze, and urine. It was okay—I was used to it.

Part One.

Cecil Speaks:

The Andress clan scraped their pennies together and sent me to school—a damn fine one at that. It took two days and a night to get there by rail, but get there I did. If only I'd made some friends, things would have been easier—but my dang accent gave me away. I learned to talk like them, but they knew what I was and steered clear. Damn Yankees. The work? Oh hell, that was the easy part. By Christmas time I was as lonesome as a one-armed paper hanger. I sat there, just sat there stirring my coffee—along came Alex.

"Well hi there Cece. Penny for your thoughts?"

Now Alex, he was one odd duck. He was always mooning around, all dreamy like. More than once I caught him eyin' me—didn't know what to make of it. He never changed or showered with the gang neither; never did I see him with a girl, not ever. Odd, but like I said, I was lonesome, so I said hello.

"My thoughts ain't... I mean are not worth a penny."

"Oh, let me be the judge of that. You going home for the holidays?" he asked.

"Not as such. We damn near broke the bank getting me here, so no, I guess not."

"Whatcha going to do then?"

"Hang around here I guess." It didn't sound as bad as all that until I heard it out loud.

"That's no good Cece. It won't do. Why not come along with me. Mother's house is huge. And the food! She worries I don't have any friends, so be a chum and come along?"

"Okay. I will." Food, fun and drink I assumed? I didn't have to think twice. That Alex, he was okay.

I expected we'd be going by train but I was wrong. Old Alex, why he had himself a fair jitney he did—a Graham Paige sedan, and it was smooth and fast. He threw our bags in the back and off we went. "Not too shabby, eh Cece?"

I had to agree.

We rolled right along, and that machine ate up the mile-markers like they were peanuts. Ha! Peanuts! I remember getting hungry. It was like he read my mind. We stopped at a diner.

"Hey Cece," said Alex after we ate, "Want to wet your whistle?"

"Whistle? Oh, I get it. There's no doin'. Damn prohibition."

"Wanna bet?" he asked.

We walked two blocks; he got us into a place that served that rare old stuff. Odd thing was, he sipped at his and pushed the remainder my way. "You go ahead. Finish it for me. My treat."

I looked back and forth; two men at the bar smirked at us. He thumbed the rim. "Go ahead. I don't have the plague."

By the time we left I was feeling no pain, and by supper it all happened again, two towns over. We started talking—not about how the ball team was doing, or about our grades and professors—no. It was different—Cecil, he was different.

"Say, how come I never see you with a lady-friend, Alex?"

"I don't know. Anyway, I could ask you the same."

"Hehe, You got me there. I'm just fussy, is all."

"Well there you go then." We drove into the sunset, parting the fog when he said, "Hey Cece?"

"Yeah?"

"Honest now, you think I'da made a pretty woman, like if I'd been born one?"

I studied his structure, me bold with the alcohol. I took too long.

"Well?" He did look so intent.

"Heck yes! I mean I wouldn't toss you out of bed for eatin' crackers." A pang of desire wrenched in me. The rumble and the wind lulled me to sleep.

"Hey Cece, wake up," said Alex. He gave my knee a grab. "I think you get to drive on the way back."

"We're there? Or here, I mean?" The sun was breaking, shrouded by treetops. We drove all night.

"Well yeah. I told you we'd make it okay," said Alex.

I squinted down the driveway, and oh my lord!—there sat a mansion. "Hot damn and a Merry Christmas to me," said I.

Our things packed inside, he gave me the grand tour. I would have gotten lost without him. We passed one last elegant doorway. "Can't go in there. Mother is sleeping," he said. I nodded on by.

******

End of Part One. I meet Gladys.

Cecil's nurse popped in. "Now how are you boys? Playing nice, are we?" I did a double take—what a fox.

"Oh shit. Eddy, you'll have to excuse us," said Cecil. "Time for my meds and so on." I waited in the hall as life as he knew it required.

The nurse edged past and returned. She showed more cleavage than I remembered and noticed me looking. "Eddy, I take it? Hi, I'm Gladys."

"He thinks I'm Eddy. My name is Frank." I shook her hand; she held on and smiled. And slipped two fingers up my wrist. My knees shook.

She exhaled, stepped in close until her breasts warmed me, crowded against me and said, "Pleased to meet you Frank. Staying up late with Old Cecil?"

"May I? I really need to finish the story."

"By all means. I'll check in later." She turned back and whispered, "Maybe you should hear him out tonight. There lies a man who ain't buyin' green bananas."

"I see."

I watched her walk away—such a tight ass swiveled, such long, hard legs flexed. My cock responded. I knew the deep want in her eyes.

Part Two: Cecil tells me more.

Cecil speaks:

So like I was saying, Alex got me set 'round the place, and it was great. And what's a mansion without a serving staff? Well, you can bet it had that too—in spades. Oh sorry, that kind of humor doesn't fly anymore, does it? Don't write that part. It ain't according to Hoyle. And besides, there was some white folks working there too.

Alex led me to the parlor. We had us fine cigars and drinks to boot. The drinks went un-named and that was fine with me. Alex didn't seem to like his cigar though, and butted it out after a few puffs. He looked past, over my shoulder and spied the maid waiting. "C'mon Cece. Soup's on!"

It was just like a movie, what with the servants bowing when Mother made her entrance. Right on cue, I rose from my seat when she entered—a Southern gentleman to the last.

"Now, now. Such a fuss," she said. "And who have we here?"

"Cecil Andress, from your son's school," said I.

"And you're here for the duration I take it?" Her voice was beautiful.

"Yes, I invited him. Did you not get my telegram?" asked Alex.

"No matter, the more the merrier," said Mother. She must have had Alex very young—she couldn't have been over forty.

End of Part Two. Gladys returns.

The nurse came back to find Cecil napping and me editing on the fly. It wasn't the easiest assignment with Cecil dozing in mid sentence, and I guess the strain showed. "Hi Frank. Getting it down?" My mind shot back to my earlier erection and I blushed.

She draped herself over my back; she lifted my left hand and brushed her lips along my ring finger. "No Missus Frank?"

I suppressed a shudder. "No. Not a one." That woman radiated the heat of sex; she inflamed me. I'd rock her ass 'til her shoes fly off.

"You sweet, lonely man. I know how hard it can be." She gathered me in, breathed the words in my ear, dropped kisses along my neck. My skin prickled in bliss. Her brunette locks soothed my face; her breasts mingled between my shoulder blades. I reached back, dared to touch the heat of her stockinged legs. I fingered the hem of her skirt, explored with my eyelids trembling. 'Stockings or pantyhose?' I wondered. My tongue ached for her hot gash. My lap tented unashamed. She noticed.

"Gladys! Damn you! Stop bothering Eddy! We have us work to do." Cecil waved her off like the old Mother in his story. She lifted an eyebrow at my stiff condition, winked and left the room.

"I swear, that dang nurse...Eddy! Dammit all! Where were we?"

I got him up to speed. He became very aware, alive with post nap lucidity.

Part Three. Called Up Yonder.

Cecil continues to speak:

During supper, Alex's mother chatted away, well as you'd expect. More was the way she cast us a curious eye, a glance and a smile here and there—her own private musings. I chalked it up to the way of the woman—that's all I made of it.

After supper, and it was the best I ever had, let me tell you, she swanned back up the stairs. Yes, swanned I says!—with us looking on. I can't tell it otherwise. With skirts held all lofty, with jewels a sparklin' away. I thought I was dreaming. She was so fine; I caught a glimpse of her silver high heel buckles and seamed stockings and I got all excited, if you know what I mean.

Alex invited me back to the parlor for second helpings of desert and more brandy, or whatever it was. It was liquor, and as fine as I ever had too. He put on a record and swayed to the romantic rhythm. On returning, he sat right beside me; he crossed his legs with apparent ease, and was not at all puzzled when a servant whispered in his ear.

"What's doing, Alex?" I asked. I slid away from him as I said it.

"It's Mother. She wants us to her room. C'mon better do as she says." He stood and took me by the hand. I blinked—he had the softest skin. We reached the top of the stairs and stood before his mother's door. Alex stood facing me, blushing—he held both my hands in his. His eyes widened; they dropped to the side—his lips a full red and swollen. I swear I heard his heart pounding. "Let's go in," he said.

My hair stood on end; my mouth went dry. But I followed.

End of Part Three. Gladys gets personal.

Cecil tried. He'd quavered through the last of his account. I listened to him sleep. The click-clack of Gladys's approach fell in time with his struggling breaths.

"Frank. He's asleep Frank."

I nodded. Her eyes flashed.

"Let me in here. I have to go home soon. Let me in."

Astounded, I let her into the space under the desk where she crouched and parted my legs. Deft fingers, sure and steady—Zip! She had me out, semi erect and exposed. Lips, tongue sucking, stroking and hot, she took me in—pulled me in hard and slow, flooded my senses with illicit joy. Oh Gladys, never stop. Oh yes, just like that...Oh...Oh...

"Oh hey Cecil. You're up. You want to tell me how this thing ends?" I asked.

He coughed; he lay there staring at ceiling tiles. "Yeah Eddy. I guess I might as well. Some things need telling."

Part Four: Cecil. Oh Cecil.

Cecil speaks more:

I went in and there sat Mother. I never in all my days saw the likes of her before. I made a quick half circle—made to leave. There must have been some signals crossed—no way would she want me to see her like that, not all in stockings, garters, heels and corset. And that woman had a fine set of tits on her—let me tell you. They spilled up and out over her lacy lady-things. She'd unpinned her hair, let it swarm down around her breasts. I made to leave but Alex blocked the way.

"It's fine Cece. Stay. She likes you." He took a step forward; he...no wait... SHE dropped trousers!—just like that. Down they went, skivvies and all. I was staring at a soft downy triangle between a pair of white, naked thighs. Surprised? There's no good word for it, none at all.

"Alex?"

"Alice," she said. Off came her shirt, off came a wide band of elastic. Breasts released, exposed and swaying—my lips still pucker thinking of them. My chum had skin like warm white silk, like cream.

Mother's voice broke the spell. "Ah. Look at him. So handsome. You've done well."

"I know I have, Mother. It was love at first sight. And now he's here with us." Alice moved towards me—stepped free of her man-clothes, floated free, and onto me. She locked eyes on me, glowing; she pulled my clothes away. She did it—I was bare.

"Kiss me Cece. Mmm, I want you."

I grasped her shoulders, I did, but couldn't push her away. Our flesh melded together, our lips locked wetly. Mother loved to watch. She stepped in for a closer look. "Alice. Just look at his wedding tackle! So hard. Your man is beautiful."

Alice had me in her arms, kissing me up on her tiptoes, rolling and squeezing my loaded thing high up between her legs. I gasped—my cream was rising.

"Stop you two. I want to savor this. Stop it I say!" said Mother. "I want this time to be special."

Mother escorted us to her bed, drew back the covers. Alice lay back, legs parted, her pink fissure waited. She couldn't resist teasing my hard-on with her pretty little feet. Mother positioned me, tied my hands back, and ordered me to allow it. She stood behind me, shadowed my posture. "What? Why?" I asked.

"I am tying you to me. Stand still boy."

She bound us together with soft-sheathed cords, with her front pressed to my back—with our thighs and torsos moving as one. "Isn't this fun?" she huffed. "Let's get down to business. Let's have us a daughter."

She reached for my cock's dripping juice. I watched her circling her wrist. My clear drops clung to her long-nailed fingertips in the low light. "Here. Alice honey, Taste your man. You will love it." She tasted it first and moaned her approval.

Alice shrugged, slid forward and parted her lips. She looked me square in the eyes as Mother stuck her fingers in—plunged them in and out like she was fucking. "There now. Good, isn't he?" Alice blinked and licked her lips. Her nipples stiffened; she blushed. Mother waved my cock, beckoned to Alice. "Here girl, put your lips on it. Kiss the tip. Don't be afraid. There, that's the way. Oh yes! Suck cock so nice for Mommy."

Alice had her timid way with me, but grew brave. Mother rolled my balls, jacked low and slow on my shaft; She thrust her hips, forcing me into fucking, pumping cock into her daughter's hot mouth. Alice sucked me well, played with her girl parts and moaned. My wrists twisted in their bindings. I was on the brink—Mother pulled back. It all stopped.

"Now Alice, I need you to be a brave girl for Mommy. This poor boy can't take that forever. Lie back and spread. Let the devil's tail inside you."

"Please no? I don't think I can fit it in," said Alice. She knelt cupping her pussy; she covered her breasts.

"Nonsense. Do as you're told. It's natural. I know you're in heat and now you're going to get it."

Alice laid back. "Yes Mother." She pulled her legs open wide, dug her fingers into the backsides of her knees. There she was—ready for cock. Her lady-fluid trickled out and slicked up her other entrance.

Mother lunged. She hurtled forward, crashed us down on top of Alice. My cock jutted into her, but a bit too low. "Ow! No! Not in there!" she gasped. I had entered up to the crest of my cock head. She grasped my shaft—guided me to a higher place. "Yes...there, I think...oh!" Her knuckles drummed my abdomen—she squelched away at her hooded nub as I sank in. I never knew such pleasure before. My whole body was gripped by her, drowned and seared in the tight privates of Alice.

Mother held me pinned there; Alice squirmed, wrapped her long legs around us. She gazed into my eyes and smiled. Mother sucked at my earlobe, said, "Get ready for a proper fucking. Ready boy?"

Before I could answer, she took to humping something fierce. Her hips bucked, forced me in and out of her daughter. Alice's pussy clenched, insisted, milked me of my juice. Mother stretched her neck over my shoulder, planted her lips full on Alice's mouth. They kissed deeply. "Mommy! What's going to happen! I feel something's going off...I'm...OH!"

Mother went wild. I was past the point of resolve and was about to unload all rude deep inside the precious pink. I tried to pull out.

Mother said, "No sir! We want a child out of this. Put out her fire. Let it all out." And I did—with her last frantic thrusts propelling me, I did. But that wasn't all. Mother stood us up and nestled over Alice's panting face. "Take care of Mommy now. I've missed you so. Lick it baby. Oh!" She squatted there grinding her haunches, gathered Alice's soothing tits around my cock. I thought she would never finish. Never did I see a woman cut loose like that. I spent the rest of my life wishing I'd fucked them both.

End of Cecil's story.

******

Click. I shut off the tape recorder, quit my typing. "Wow. But Cecil, what the hell am I supposed to do with all this? I can't very well print it off for your grandkids. Thanks though, but..."

"Aw shit. I guess not. I'll have to tell you something else." He rolled over and faced the wall.

Leaning into the desk, I shuddered, palmed the nurse's head, delved my fingers into her perfumed curls. I imagined us switching places—imagined her with a cock. Fuck! That did it. My toes curled; I shot ample torrents into her mouth.

"Eddy, could you come back tomorrow night?" asked Cecil.

Gladys licked her lips and nodded an eager 'yes' up from between my legs.

I agreed.

"And Eddy?"

"Yeah? What is it, Cecil?"

"Tell that bad bitch under the desk to do me next. I do pay the bills around here, after all."