Melissa Smith-Jones Ch. 06

A short summary to date: Nigel and Melissa are in love. Sylvia is Melissa's English counterpart in London for the same company Melissa works at, Bigsby and Co. Sylvia and Nigel's brother Geoff are in love. Sylvia is also in love with Nigel and Melissa is often tempted by Geoff. The four of them have worked out a tentative occasional partner swap but Melissa is still hoping to snag Nigel as a husband and she is hoping he will propose at some point. Sylvia feels the same way about Geoff. Jane is Melissa's best friend.

I. Jane and Melissa in an East Village Bar

I was in full blown panic mode. Thank goodness my best friend forever Jane agreed to meet me at our favorite East Village Bar on First Avenue. I saw Jane come into the bar. She was dressed for a hook-up bar, all right. She was sporting an outfit that would doubtless inspire men to come over to ask to join us and to buy us drinks. I did not need that.

"Thanks for coming, Jane," I said.

"What's the emergency?" she asked.

"Nigel," I said.

"No shit, Sherlock. That's a given. What about him?" Jane asked.

"His father is coming to New York and he wants to meet me," I said.

"Oh, my goodness! Meeting the parents? That's serious. Are you that serious about him?" Jane asked.

"Not his parents. Nothing was said about his mother. It's just his father. Presumably he has a mother, right?" I said.

"Most men do. Women do too, actually, we just don't admit it," Jane said. "So...you're going to meet the old Duke of Cock himself?" Jane observed.

"Don't call him that! To you and to me he is just Mr. Clark!" I said.

"Awww. Killjoy. I love his noble title you gave him, Lord Clark, the Duke of Cock. Do you think he is?" Jane asked.

"Is what?"

"The Duke of Cock, of course!" Jane said, the ends of her mouth twisting just a little to reveal the hint of a smile.

"Well his two sons are the most amazing men I've ever, uh, you know, and if you believe in inherited traits, well..." I stumbled.

My sex life began at an age too young to tell you, and it went full speed from there and it never stopped. By the time I graduated college (two years ago) I knew everything I ever could want to know about men in bed and their peccadillos. I guess I had sowed enough wild oats to reseed Sherwood Forest were it to be opened to logging. I was an expert on sex, but not on emotions. Who knew what I wanted from a partner for life? I sure didn't.

"Do I need to introduce the two men to my Mom?" I asked Jane. My Mom was only 16 years older than I which made her 40 years old. My Dad had knocked her up when she was in high school and six years later he died while having a job interview in the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, on September 11, 2001. That's why I've been on birth control for almost ten years, and I'm only just 24 years old. My Mom insisted, just in case the sexpot did not fall far from the vixen.

My Mom is also a MILF. She's probably the sexiest MILF in the State of New York. If she wants a man and goes after him, he can kiss his precious free will goodbye. And now she might meet the old Duke of Cock himself? That spells trouble!

And what about Geoff with his monster cock and together with his brother Nigel their unmatched fucking techniques? Sylvia told me Geoff is 34 years old (Nigel is 30), and that's only six years younger than my Mom. What if my Mom went after Geoff? Sylvia would never forgive me. Not to mention how weird it would be for my Mom to be intimate with my lover's brother!

"Can't you tell your Mom to chill? She must know how important Nigel is to you," Jane said. "Anyway, they do not have to meet your Mom this visit, you know."

"Right," I said in heavily sarcastic intonation. Jane knew my Mom. Telling my Mom to chill was like telling a politician not to lie. Telling her not to meet the Dad of my true love, my heartthrob, was like telling her to take a sudden winter vacation in Alaska. It was not going to happen.

"When does the old Duke of Cock arrive?" Jane asked.

I thought to remind her again not to call him that, but gave up. "Tomorrow," I said.

"Dress nice and smile a lot. Not too sexy, if you can manage that," Jane said.

"You came this close to having my glass of white wine thrown in your face just now," I said, squeezing my fingers together in illustration.

As predicted, two men came over and hit on us. Since I am now Nigel's girl, I made an excuse and politely left the bar, leaving Jane to choose between the men. I figured she'd go with the one who was growing a beard. Four days growth of a beard looks sexy. Jane always looks sexy and she likes sexy men. She also likes the inevitable outcome which of course is sex, sex, and more sex. I guess that does not make her that unusual.

I went home and waited for Nigel to arrive. He came home an hour later; the man works much too hard and keeps much too long hours at work. Jane had once idly wondered aloud if he really was at work, or out drinking with the boys or carousing with floozies. I was sure he was not like that. I was mostly sure. I was fairly sure. I was reasonably sure. I actually had no idea.

I guess I could check up on him? I don't want to be like that. His Dad arrives tomorrow. Focus, Melissa, focus! I made us some dinner. Branzino, roasted with baby zucchini, fresh from the farmer's market, with some thyme and basil.

I laid out a selection of outfits for the Meet-the-Duke-of-Cock ceremony in the morrow. They were my most conservative work clothes. I felt like an Amish woman, trying to look modest.

II.Nigel's Dad Mark Clark, aka the Duke of Cock, arrives in New York

"His taxi is stuck in traffic but he should be here soon. Where are you going?" Nigel asked me.

"To pee," I said.

"What, again?" Nigel asked. "Drink too much water, did you?"

"I pee when I'm nervous, okay? You know that, Nigel."

"My father's harmless," he said. "He's only a danger to women."

"I'm a woman, or have you forgot?" I asked.

"Prove it," Nigel said, and gave me his mischievous smile. I love that smile. I sang a high note, one that almost only dogs could hear.

"Could be a falsetto," Nigel said.

I lifted up my blouse. "Could be a padded bra," Nigel said, again with that deadly smile.

I smiled back. "Will my boobs convince you?" I asked.

"They would not convince the officials for the Olympics, especially if you were Russian," Nigel said.

I lifted my skirt. "No room for a cock, see?" I said. I stroked my vagina through my panties to illustrate how smooth it was.

"You could have a really, really tiny one," he said.

I pulled down my panties. "Convinced?"

"Yes," he said. He came over to me and started fondling where my panties no longer were. "I guess my Dad is a danger to you."

"Geez," I said. "First your brother, now your Dad?"

"You're a bit young for him," Nigel said.

"I should hope so! What is he, 60 years old?" I asked. I was getting much too turned on. Nigel knew just how to drive me to distraction with his fingers and he was not letting up.

"Yes, precisely, as of last Wednesday," Nigel said. I made a mental note of his birthday. "You know, you are very wet down there." At that point I inadvertently moaned, underscoring Nigel's point.

"Your fingers might be having something to do with that," I said breathlessly. "You should stop you know. Your father could come at any minute!" I said.

Nigel took my hand and pulled me to the bedroom. He tossed me onto the bed, pulled down my panties, did what men do to get their cocks out, and jumped me, entering me to the hilt in one swift stroke. Lordy, it felt good. I know I love Nigel, but I love his cock and what he does with it even more.

I was moaning up a storm and it was building, building, building. The risk of his father arriving in mid sex was turning me on something fierce. I was getting so close, so close and OMG there it was. I climaxed big time, letting out a high-pitched scream that could break crystal, I'm sure. That's one of the many reasons we don't have crystal.

Neither of us had heard the knock. We had told the doorman to send up Nigel's Dad when he came and we had left the door unlocked. When nobody came to the door upon Mr. Clark's knock, Nigel's Dad simply walked in.

He heard my scream of passion and not knowing why a woman had screamed he burst into our bedroom just as Nigel was pulling out. I was lying there in bliss, my eyes closed, Nigel's copious load of cum visible in my pussy, my legs spread wide, with my face reflecting my state of bliss, I'm sure.

I first became aware we were not alone when I heard Nigel say, "Hi, Dad. I'd like you to meet my true love Melissa."

My eyes shot open, my legs shot closed, I stood up like a rocket ship that just launched, and my skirt fell into place to cover me up, much too late.

"You're a very pretty woman, Melissa," the old Duke of Cock himself said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You're pretty where it counts, too," the crude Englishman said, looking right at my crotch. "I'm honored to meet you."

I was blushing furiously and frozen to the spot where I was standing. I was unable to speak since I had no idea what to say. What do you say to the man you hope someday will be your father-in-law when the first sight he has of you is your naked, wide-open pussy filled with his son's cum? I don't remember my mother telling me what to do in such situations.

What my mother had taught me was that if I were ever in a situation where my intuition failed me, simply to stay quiet and to smile. That had always worked to date. I have a pretty smile.

"Thank you, Sir," I managed to say, smiling. One of my strengths is that in any situation, no matter how bizarre or how shaming, I can always force a smile. I felt a trickle of cum sliding slowly down my right thigh.

"Call me Duke, everyone does," Nigel's father said. His given name was Mark. I so wanted to ask him if Duke was short for "Duke of Cock," but of course I did not. An old rock and roll song, "The Duke of Earl" by Gene Chandler, was bouncing around in my head. I could head the bass voice singing, "Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl, Duke, Duke..." as I looked into the milky blue eyes of the Duke of Cock.

The Duke's eyes in return stared at my crotch, now modestly covered by one of my work skirts. I had had no time to find my panties and pull them up, so the Duke knew my pussy was both bare and sloppy under my skirt. This is not the ideal way to meet one's future father in law for the first time, or anytime for that matter!

My mother appeared next. I could not believe this. True, my mother has the uncanny ability to appear at the most inopportune times. She's an expert at doing that. She always has been. One time when I was in school (before college) when I lived at home with her she entered my bedroom while I was naked, on all fours being ploughed from behind.

My Mom calmly discussed dinner plans with me (Did I want chicken or fish? Did the boy want to stay for dinner or was my pussy enough for him just then?) as the boy behind me, showing no modesty whatsoever, just continued to fuck me while my mom and I discussed dinner. (He ended up staying for dinner and then we went upstairs and I gave him a blowjob.) The boy even grabbed my boobs as he fucked me right in front of my Mom and tweaked my nipples, eliciting a hyper embarrassing moan. My Mom left after my moan but I saw a smirk on her face as she left.

My Mom looked at the boy with desire as we ate dinner. I hated it when she lusted after my teenage lovers. We broke up a week later and I always wondered if he had dumped me in order to have a liaison with my Mom. It's horrible that I think like that. It's even more horrible that I had good reason to think like that.

Back in the present, my Mom just dropped in uninvited. My mother however turned out to be a great attraction. She and Duke took to each other right away, taking off me the pressure of Duke's lustful stares at my body.

Next Jane came over, also uninvited. What was this, Grand Central Station?

I did not know why my Mom showed up but Jane was clearly there to check out the old Duke of Cock himself. Jane would claim it was to help me out, but I knew better. My friend the hussy checked him out with detailed care. Jane could really annoy me. She was lucky she was such a good friend!

Sylvia was in England but next Geoff appeared. Well at least in his case he had an excuse. His father was there. I did not have enough food to feed six people, so Nigel and I took everyone out to dinner.

III.Dinner at an Upscale NY Restaurant

At dinner the seating was unfortunate. Mom was next to Geoff, Jane was next to Nigel, and the Duke himself was next to me. A hand was on my thigh, creeping up under my skirt. Since Duke was sitting to my right, and the hand was on my right thigh, it was clear the hand belonged to Duke. He was feeling up his own son's woman? Really? Seriously?

Get real, Melissa. He had seen your wide-open pussy just an hour earlier. What was he supposed to think? I'll tell you what, you dumb tart. He was supposed to think I was Nigel's girl! Nigel is his bleeping son, for Pete's sake. One does not molest the girlfriend of one's son!

I did not know what to do. I reached down under the table and grabbed the Duke's hand in order to remove it from my thigh. He was too strong and his hand stayed there. It was at that point about four inches from what had clearly been his hand's goal.

I wanted to be polite and respectful but really, he had already seen my naked pussy filled with cum, and now his hand was up my skirt resting on my thigh? Why am I in this hell? I kept trying and kept failing to remove his hand. I got up, pretending to need to use the facilities. I had to go down a flight of stairs to get to the bathroom.

I heard footsteps behind me. The staircase walls were some kind of glossy tiles and I could see from the reflection that the Duke was following me down the stairs. Damn! I was slow due to my stiletto heels and the Duke caught me at the bottom, pulled me into him, and forced a kiss onto my lips. I tried to pull my head away but could not. His hand was on the back of my head.

Make a good impression, make a good impression, I had told myself over and over again after Nigel had sprung the news about his father's visit. He wanted to kiss me. Maybe that's some sort of British thing? Cornering the girlfriend/fiancé/bridesmaid near the toilets and mashing her? Well, okay, I can play along.

I stopped resisting. I relaxed my body and I kissed him back. Suddenly I realized his kisses were magnificent! I've always had a weakness for a man who can truly kiss. The old Duke was just such a man. Good for him. Unfortunate for me.

I should have known what was coming next but for the life of me I never would have thought he could have tried something like that in a restaurant restroom hallway with his two sons, Jane, and my Mom upstairs, but he did. He most certainly did. His hand went under my skirt, lifting it slightly, and zipped up to my pussy, still not clad with panties.

I was still just a little sloppy with Nigel's cum, but the old Duke did not seem to mind, as his fingers showed conclusively that his considerable talents were not restricted to kissing. I tried to stop him, pushing at his arm, but my efforts were as weak as was my flesh. It felt just too amazingly good.

Suddenly he stopped, whispering to me, "I'm even better when it's the real thing," and then he left me standing there in shock, as he smiled at me and went to the men's room. I just stood there, trembling. At the last minute, when the Duke had finished his business and I heard the urinal flush, I managed to pull myself together and enter the women's room. I collapsed on a stall and just sat there, stunned.

I don't know how long I sat there on the toilet. I did not even pee, although I did manage to push out a bit of Nigel's cum. God that man had productive balls! I finally emerged from the toilets, climbed the stairs carrying my stilettos, and joined the table.

The food had just arrived and everyone was distracted by the delicious looking plates and tempting smells from the food in front of us. More importantly for me, the Dukes hands were leaving me alone.

Jane had majored in history in college and she knew a lot about English history in particular. She was enjoying discussing the fine details of the subject with the three men, all of them knowledgeable just from standard British schooling. They began to discuss jus primae noctis, I have no idea why.

"What is jus primae noctis?" I naively asked.

"It's Latin, Melissa. You may know it as droit de seigneur," Jane replied.

French, I knew. "The rights of the lord? I still don't get it," I said.

"It means that a feudal lord was supposed to have the rights to deflower a bride before the groom did," Jane said.

My mother, of course, said, "Would that include Dukes?"

"You mean real Dukes, right?" I replied. "Mr. Clark is not a real duke. That's just his nickname."

"Well, actually..." Geoff began.

"Our Dad is the Duke of Chesire," Nigel said. He did not seem particularly proud.

My Mom was bowled over. "Really? I'm dining with a real duke? Your lordship," she said, bowing her head and looking at the old Duke of Cock himself, her bedroom eyes twinkling. The Duke looked at her with fresh eyes. There was palpable interest there.

My Mom turned to me. "I guess you're lucky, Melissa, that this is no longer feudal times," and she giggled. Jane joined in. Giggling is contagious among women but I did not join in. I felt as far as Nigel's Dad was concerned it was still feudal times. I would have to be super careful.

To get revenge on my Mom I loudly asked Nigel where was his Mom and why did she not come over to New York with the Duke?

"I've never told you?" Nigel asked. Seeing my blank look, he continued, "My Mom died in the world Trade Center disaster of 2001." Boy had my attempt at revenge backfired!

IV.The 9/11 Memorial

After the dinner it was inevitable. Nigel and I took our Dad and Mom respectively to the new world trade center building, sometimes called The Freedom Tower. There's a tasteful memorial fountain there with the names of all the victims etched into it. My Mom lives in New York so she has often been there to see the name of her husband, a man she has never stopped loving. This was to be the first time the old Duke was going to see the name of his wife etched there.

It was a moving moment. Nigel saw his father cry for the first time in his life. My mother did not cry. She had cried enough over the years. She did hug the Duke to help him get through his pain. She empathized. I cried too just a little, and wiped away the moisture from my eyes. Most of my memories of my Dad came from my Mom's pictures of him, since I was barely seven when the terror happened. Nigel was 14, already a teenager, when he lost his Mom.

We left the two parents alone, steering them to a nice bar that served English style beer for the Duke. My Mom was always pacified with a glass of good sherry. Nigel and I walked down to battery park and gazed out at the statue of liberty.

"This country has such an amazing history," Nigel said. "You used to admit so many refugees. You were so welcoming."

"Yes, I guess we were," I said. I could have added something about the current state of affairs, but I chose to stay silent.

A strong wind actually made me cold and Nigel held me. He always holds me perfectly. We went home and left our mourning parents to their own devices. It did not take a rocket scientist to figure out exactly how they drowned their sorrows. I could see how they were looking at each other when we left them in that bar.

Around 11pm that night I got a call from my Mom. Could I come over to her place? She needed me. I figured she was having a long-delayed attack of grief over my father's death, seventeen long years earlier. Good for her I thought. Nigel was disappointed. I had had to stop my blowjob in mid blow in order to answer the phone. Then I threw on clothes, grabbed a taxi and went right to my mother's place.