Slippery When Wet
Maybe Mandy Book 3
By: Chris Genovese
Maybe Mandy: Slippery When Wet
1st Edition
Copyright © 2016 by Chris Genovese
Published by Erotic Mayberry Publishing
Written by Chris Genovese
Cover created by Chris Genovese
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1 – Know When to Fold
Chapter 2 – Braden Bot
Chapter 3 – No Place Like Home
Chapter 4 – Going with the Flow
Chapter 5 – His Business
Chapter 6 – Time for a Change
Dedication
I’m often asked to name my favorite character, of my books I mean, and I always say Mandy. I like all of my characters, or at least most of ‘em anyway, but Mandy rocks. Sometimes I feel like we’re going steady. So when readers tell me how much they appreciate her stories, I get all giddy inside. I love Mandy and it means a lot to me that you love her too. So I dedicate this book to all the Mandy fans, especially to one fan in particular, Leanna, who wrote in a recent review of book 2, Margaritas by Moonlight, “I NEED much more Mandy in my life.” Thank you Leanna and thanks to everyone else who has been with me on this ride. One of my dreams is to see Mandy in her own TV show. Who knows, MAYBE Mandy will make it there one day.
I also want to thank all of my beta readers this time around. You guys always help me clean up my work. Thank you Alicia, Maureen, Chrisstine, Riley, Zara, and Jocqueline. As always, thanks to Kendall for helping me get this one out to as many readers and blogs as possible. Love you guys!
*Mandy is a fictional character who fully understands the need to use protection during sex. She ALWAYS uses contraceptives. If it is not mentioned in the story it is only to prevent the slowing down of the story or interruption to the fantasy element. Have fun and be safe!*
Chapter 1 – Know When to Fold
How did I end up naked at this dining room table? Well, I’m not completely naked. I am wearing panties. So how did I end up sitting across from Pete, the young stud with biceps larger than my thighs?
He called me a MILF.
Yes, I was called a MILF the other day. For anyone who doesn’t already know, that’s a “Mom I’d Like to Fuck.”
The interesting thing is, I’m not a fucking mom! I have no children. I have nothing against them but I’ve yet to have a baby so a young hunk calling me a MILF is a lot like labeling me as one of the “mature” chicks he watches in porn videos. And I’m not that fucking old.
Pete’s a towel boy at my gym. So how did the towel boy become brazen enough to call me a mom he’d like to fuck? Well, that part’s sort of my fault. I did kind of ask him if he’d “dry these off for me.”
By these I was talking about my tits and I only asked because Jill dared me to. Yes, like a grade school kid, I fell for the double dog dare. She even put the cherry on top.
I never expected to be offended. I don’t know what I expected him to say but MILF wasn’t it. I think when he made the comment my mouth must have hung open because he actually reached out and closed it for me, letting his hand remain on my chin longer than he should have.
“MILF?” I asked.
“You don’t know what it means?”
“I know what it fucking means, you twerp.”
“It’s a compliment.”
“It would be if I had a toddler running around somewhere.”
He didn’t respond. I mean, what would he say in that situation, right? Something like, “Well let me give you a toddler.” Or, “How about you spank me like a mama?”
No, he remained silent. Suddenly I was on the defensive and with my super-charged, sexually-hyped, modern-woman attitude, that meant I needed to show him who’s boss.
So I leaned in close to him and whispered in his ear, “What you said to me was really really rude. Show me what you’d do to a MILF and I might let it slide.”
He didn’t miss a beat.
“Pick me up at nine.”
The kid didn’t even have a fucking car. I wasn’t expecting it to be a long-lasting fling so I brushed it off and agreed to pick him up later.
Then we were at his place, sitting across from each other, and I was pretending to know what the hell I was doing in a game of poker. Somehow, I kept losing my clothes.
So there I sat with my arm covering my nipples. Pete was nice enough to take off his shirt even though I never won a game. The view from my side of the table was worth all I’d experienced so far. His chest was almost as big as mine, but in a chiseled, beefcake kinda way.
It didn’t take long before Pete swiped everything off the table, climbed on top of it, and crawled over to me. My pussy was pouring as I watched the manly maneuver and all I could think of was, “He called me a MILF. What would a MILF do in this situation?”
You know what I did? Here’s what I did. I waited till he reached my side of the table, then I stuck my tit in his mouth. Yep, just like that.
“Suck mama’s tit,” I said.
God, I’m so corny. I did say it though.
Back to sucking my tit, and boy did he. Holy shit! That kid climbed off the table without letting my nipple fall from his lips. Then he gently tilted my chair back until it was flat against the floor and I was sliding off it and onto the carpet.
With both hands, he cupped my tits together and gave both nipples a good tongue lashing. I don’t know where he learned his skills. Probably from some frat party hijinks but whatever school of hard knocks he attended, he definitely earned an “A” in foreplay.
He leaned over me and focused on my chest while I did tricks with my feet I didn’t know I could manage. I was like one of the fucking apes from Planet of the Apes using my toes to unbuckle his belt and my heels to hook his pockets and yank his pants off his waist.
I think even Pete was surprised when his cock sprang free and dangled between his balls and my panties and he seemed even more shocked when I took him in my hand and gave him short and quick jerks.
He was big and curved slightly upward, and the best part? He was panting. Yes, panting.
By panting I mean he’d taken his mouth off my tits and was concentrating on the handjob he was getting. I’m not one to be selfish but I have to admit I was bummed that he’d gotten so comfortable in his own pleasure. I mean, what about mine?
Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he kicked his shoes and pants the rest of the way off and climbed up to chest level. I’m not kidding. I know how this sounds, but Pete basically sat on me, put his cock on my chest, and smooshed my tits together, forcing me to give him an involuntary tittie fuck.
Now, I can’t see my own face at times like these, but at the angle I was looking up at the tip of his cock, I can only imagine I had that double-chin, face squished up, what-the-fuck look on my face.
I mean seriously. What…the…fuck?
Don’t get me wrong, I like a tittie fuck like anyone else, especially if it’s a guy I’ve been seeing and we’ve worked up to it and it’s a mutually beneficial thing. I wouldn’t be in the situation if I didn’t want to fuck the guy in the first place.
So, all in all, things were kind of going according to plan. His plan.
/> I needed to cook up one of my own and quick before he blew his load and left me unsatisfied. So, as he busied himself with my boobs, I writhed like a snake until I wiggled my way out of my underwear. Pete didn’t even seem to notice.
“Oh fuck,” he kept saying.
I knew he was close. So, like some sort of jiu-jitsu specialist, I lifted my naked legs up to his back, curled my feet over his shoulders, and pulled him backwards. He yelped and smacked his head against the dining room table before crumbling to the floor.
I should have checked to see if he was okay. But I was too fucking horny.
So, with Pete lying on his back, dazed and probably trying to figure out what I’d just done to him, I climbed on top. He muttered something but I wasn’t in the mood to listen. He’d done enough talking for the night.
Instead, I lifted myself up over his face, and as he began to say, “What are you doing?” I sat my dripping wet pussy down onto his mouth and shoved the words back down his throat. He swallowed them like a good boy should and then his tongue was inside me and all was right in the world.
I repaid him for a good deed done by taking his huge cock in my mouth. I started by licking the head. I loved the way its size covered my tongue and as I lowered my lips around it, I fought back the slight urge to gag. Then, as usual, the gag reflex went away and I was devouring him like I hadn’t eaten a thing since last Thanksgiving.
His tongue swirled around the opening of my hole. He circled it like he was trying to ease it open wider and wider in preparation for what I had in my mouth.
Fuck, he was good.
And as I worked on what I thought might be the best blowjob I’d ever given, the usual goofy thoughts flooded through my mind. I imagined I was giving an award-winning blowjob. With each jerk of my fist and sink of my lips I thanked someone different.
I’d like to thank the Academy for giving me the chance to be where I’m at right now.
I’d like to thank my family for always believing in me.
I’d like to thank Ronny on cameras and my editor, Phil.
Pete’s sudden moaning into my pussy sent vibrations that ricocheted off my neatly trimmed thatch and reverberated up my thighs. The signal that he was about to come at any moment was like the sad orchestra music signaling the end of my acceptance speech.
They’re playing the music. I’ve taken too long.
“Oh fuck!” I felt escape my lips in an explosion of ecstasy.
I wasn’t sure what he’d done but it felt so right. It was rough, it was erotic, it was fucking amazing. He’d shoved a finger into me, all the way to the knuckles. Then two. Then maybe three.
My clit was on fire with each lash of his tongue and my pussy ached with each thrust of his fingers.
“Fuck!” I yelled. “Yes, yes, ohhhh yaaaas!”
“You like that?” I think he said.
I answered by lifting my ass and slamming my pussy into his face. I think his head bounced off the carpet but he didn’t complain. He simply lifted his head and dug in even harder.
I pulled up and scraped him slightly with my teeth.
“Oww shit!” he yelled. “Not like that!”
I hated, still hate, being told what to do. But I’d learned my lesson. Braden had liked a little teeth.
Braden was still on my mind.
Here I was choking on a beautiful dick and my thoughts were on the guy who’d fucked me all over the carnival that one night over a year ago.
As Pete fucked me with his mouth, I remembered the same thing going on with Braden. I remembered dangling from that tree while he ate me out.
That did it.
I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come. Oh shit. Oh shiiiiiiit!
“Yes! Yes!” I yelled as I pulled him out of my mouth with a loud smacking sound.
I couldn’t concentrate on his cock anymore. Not with him eating me out like that. I tried. I promise I did. I had my hand gripped tightly above his balls and was about to go back to it when I felt it. Like hot lava that started at the top of my head, mixed with liquid ice, and then traveled all the way down my body and into and then out of my pussy.
I leaned forward, trying to maintain my grip on reality, when it hit me.
It hit me. When I say “it” I mean his dick erupted in my face. He came and it shot out and busted me right in the fucking nose. Then, as I pulled back to cry out in fear, it spurted again and blasted my left eye. Thank God I’d closed it in time.
If there’d been a snapshot I’m sure it would’ve gone viral. ‘Cause I didn’t know what to do. I heard myself squeal.
“Ung…ohhh,” was what came out.
What the fuck! Did he just…did I…my fucking nose? My eye? Really?
If there’s ever a place you don’t want to get slathered in jizz, it’s your fucking nose. And if there’s a place less desirable than that, it’s your eye!
The worst part?
I didn’t know where to go from there. In an effort to stop it and to flee to safety, I kind of crawled forward, and in the process dragged my pussy across his face, over his chin, down his chest and all the way over him.
I couldn’t see. And I couldn’t smell!
Through my right eye and my sense of touch, I found something to wipe his mess off.
“What are you doing?” I heard him yell from behind.
“What am I doing? I’m wiping your cum off my face!”
“With the family quilt?”
“What family…”
As my fingers dug through the woven patches of grannies hand-made quilt, I realized the mistake I’d made.
“My mom’s going to shit!” he said.
“Your mom?”
And that was the last time I saw Pete.
Chapter 2 – Braden Bot
Who am I?
It’s a question I try not to dwell on very often. Living the “Maybe” lifestyle is something I’ve prided myself on for a while now. If it feels right, do it. If it doesn’t, don’t. It just makes sense to me.
But still. Sometimes I feel lost. At rare moments, when soaking in the tub with a glass of wine, Florence and the Machine playing softly in the background, I have to wonder if it’ll always be only me. Sure I have spurts of great times with random guys but none of it means anything. It’s just sex.
Sex isn’t bad. In fact it’s one of the most pleasurable things we can do. It’s the only time I feel truly alive.
Am I a whore? I think that’s the big question that plagues me sometimes.
Why do I do what I do? Why am I so eager to have a man between my legs? It’s all innocent fun.
I’m a good person. At least I think I am. I donate to charities whenever I can. I’m rarely rude unless provoked. I show up early to work and bust my ass to bring in the bucks for companies I don’t own. It’s called advertising and it’s what I do.
But there I was, in the tub…alone. Occasionally the silence is serene and then there’s times when it’s deafening.
Don’t feel bad or anything. You know me. Everything seems to be temporary. I’ve come to realize that and because of it have tried not to let myself get too wrapped up in the dream of a serious relationship. I’ve tried. I’ve had a few decent ones, but in the end I usually settle for some self-love by candlelight.
***
Later that week, I was at a coffee house with my friends. Susie and Vince are my sweet, anal-sex-enjoying friends. Jill is my indie porn star buddy and Ben is my gay bestie. They’re each so important in my life in his or her own special way. I know what you’re thinking. The way I described them sounds like new cast members on Big Brother or something.
I was staring at my latte trying to figure out how people made the froth do the picture thing on Facebook. You know what I mean. The heart or the love birds or the most recent one to float around the web was the foamy penis squirting jizz. My foam looked kind of like my grandma’s old hairdo, the helmet hair.
I’m so fucking weird sometimes.
I was using my finger to wi
pe away the strange picture in my drink, turning the helmet hair into long spiky troll hair, when Ben popped the question.
“Who’s going to the reunion?”
None of us answered.
“The 20-year high school reunion?” he prodded.
“We didn’t even go to your school,” Vince reminded him as he held Susie’s hand up, clutched in his like they’d won an Olympic gold medal together.
Slippery When Wet (A Romance Novella): Maybe Mandy 3 Page 1
