24 Inches: A MFM Romantic Comedy

by Alexis Angel

  Am I just hearing what I want to hear?

  “My dad is most likely gay, Jocelyn,” Lance says softly. “He doesn’t love you. And I’m willing to bet he’s never fucked you. In fact, he would be fucking disgusted if you tried.”

  All those times I’ve tried to seduce Michael. All those times he looked like he could care less.

  How did I ever miss this?

  How could I have been so blind?

  Does this make what Lance is doing right now okay?

  I don’t know, but for the brief moment my brain has given me a reprieve, I feel the tension exit my body.

  I’ll figure out later whether this is still cheating.

  Right now, I’m going to cum. I’m going to enjoy this so much.

  Lance’s hard body is pressing even harder against me. His pecs are pushing into my back. His left hand is now squeezing my tits hungrily. His mouth is planting kisses on the nape of my neck and he’s dragging his tongue up and down my upper spine.

  And his fingers. Oh God, his fingers are smacking, flicking, and twisting my clit.

  Michael can’t see us, of course. He’s too busy talking loudly to know what’s happening in the kitchen. How his stepson is defiling his wife.

  And how she’s enjoying it.

  Just another few flicks. Another set of kisses.

  Just another few seconds of that foot-long cock pushing into my ass and I’m cumming.

  It’s his fingers that really push me over the edge. Like a slow burning fire, I close my eyes and give myself over to it. Within seconds, my body is burning. I momentarily don’t care if Michael walks in. I forget all about Michael. I can’t hear his voice. I can only feel the pressure against my clit. And it’s like my whole body feels it. My whole body, engulfed in pleasure.

  Wave after wave of seizure inducing pleasure.

  I lose track of everything. I can’t even tell you if I was breathing.

  But I can tell you that when I open my eyes again, I see that Lance is holding me up. My legs must have given way.

  He has his left arm under my shoulder and he’s easily holding me up with no effort. He could probably bench me with one arm.

  I turn my head and look at him.

  If he’s right, if Michael is gay and this marriage is just a sham, then Lance may have been my savior. In more ways than one.

  I need to find out as quickly as I can.

  So that I can properly reward him.

  New York Daily Journal

  From the Desk of Amanda Adams, the Professional Gossiper of Page Two.

  Welcome to Page Two Gossip, here’s what we’re hearing around the halls of power:

  And they’re off. The New York City Mayoral race has begun yesterday with the current Mayor, Michael Anders squaring off against the Democratic ex-Mayor of New York City, Jim Jenkins.

  You’ll remember Jim Jenkins as being the mayor four years ago, defeated in a speaker of an election.

  Sources close to the Anders campaign concede that the last election had razor thin margins chiefly due to the fact that the Mayor was seen as lacking any family. In fact, if you remember the man we call Hizzoner today was seen more like a billionaire dilettante who inherited his father’s business and kept it running, had an estranged son, and had been a widower for pretty much the last two decades. Those same sources are telling me that four years later, Michael Anders is a changed man. He’s close with his son and has a new wife who he is very much in love with.

  So everything should go fine, right? Not so, say advocates of Jim Jenkins who are willing to talk to me. They say that the current mayor has plenty of holes and areas where things don’t add up. They think the whole thing is more of a sham and they’re out to prove it. But before they can do that, they all pretty much agree that they need to define their candidate.

  Four years ago, the city was reeling from massive unemployment, sky-high crime, and a wave of homeless people blanketing the city. People blamed Mayor Jenkins for a falling quality of life in the city. But the ex-Mayor plans to show the pendulum has swung the other way. His campaign is going to try and make the point that Manhattan has turned into a giant mall that only very rich people can live in, cops have gotten to the point where they’ve started harassing citizens for minor offenses, and the job market is so tight that businesses are leaving the city because they can’t find any workers.

  But at the heart of the matter, I think both sides can agree that it was always a question of who was able to portray the greatest job as a leader. The family man with the ability to let a sprawling city of 8 million get out of his control, or the billionaire scion of a media company who brings a corporate mentality to everything he touches.

  New Yorkers are going to have to make a choice and they have about six months to do it. Those six months are going to be crucial to figure out what kind of man the citizens of Gotham want leading their city.

  Keep your eyes open to this paper and your ears to the ground, my fellow New Yorkers. Till we hear more, this is Amanda Adams signing off. Keep your ears open, New York.

  Lance

  There are cheers coming from the crowd of supporters. Posters with the words "Anders for Mayor" are being waved. I watch as my stepfather takes the podium, waving to the crowd. "Thank you! Thank you all for your support," he says into the microphone. "I am joined today by my loving family," he says, pointing to both Jocelyn and I with his palm outstretched. "My beautiful wife, Jocelyn, and my son, Lance, I love you both, and as we gather here today I know there are many things on all of our minds—National Security, the economy, advances in technology, among other issues, but I want us to never lose sight of what is most important, and that is the love and devotion of family."

  With that, the crowd cheers even more and I try my best not to roll my eyes. Who is he fucking trying to fool? When was family ever his top priority? But I get it. He needs to play this up to win favor in an already tight mayoral campaign.

  And then he continues, "It's been said before, but is worth repeating here. The love of family is life's greatest blessing. Love, trust, sacrifice, helpfulness, respect, and commitment should not be taken lightly, but valued and held high. Today, and every day, you should be thankful for your family. Your family is priceless and being a part of it means that you're a part of something very special and wonderful, and bigger than yourself. Strong, healthy, loving, and nurturing families form the basis of our future! Let's never forget that New York!"

  I see he's really fucking laying it on thick—like peanut butter thick—and the crowd is going wild. I mean it. They're really eating this shit up. Especially with the thin margin of victory during the last election, he knows he needs to push this issue not just with his supporters, but with his opponents as well, to cover his ass. I look over at Jocelyn to see if I can detect any hint of emotion from her face, but she's standing stoically, looking ahead, smiling, clapping, and for all outward appearances, playing the part of the Mayor's happy and devoted wife. She looks perfectly put together. I don't fucking blame her. Play the game or get eaten. But she notices that I'm looking at her and she whispers, "We can't keep doing this, Lance."

  It's what I don't want to hear. I mean, I know she's right, but I can't seem to bring myself to admit it. Why is it that I want this woman so fucking bad? I can have any woman I want. Why this one?

  "I know," I whisper back, but even when I say it, we both look at each other in a way that suggests we only half believe what we're actually saying.

  "I'm a married woman; we need to take a break from each other," she continues at a soft whisper.

  "But how do you stay with him? I've seen the way he doesn't even look at you at home. It's like you don't exist."

  "I owe it to my father to make this marriage work. It goes beyond just Michael and I, you know. Like I said, a lot of people are depending on me. And besides, Michael isn't a bad man. I don't have a terrible life with him."

  "So, you're saying you're happy living in the same house with a man who do
esn't love you? A man who refuses to show you the affection you deserve? A man who won't so much as touch you?"

  As soon as I say that, I regret it. I know I've struck a sensitive nerve because there's a pained look on her face.

  Instead of answering my questions, she says, "You're young, so much younger than I am. What could we possibly have in common, in the grand scheme of it all? And besides, you're my son. Albeit, my stepson, but can't you understand that this is an impossible situation that we've found ourselves in?"

  Of course she's right. I fucking know she's right, but it kills me to admit it. I hate it. Instead of responding, I let her words sit in my mind and I look ahead and listen as my stepfather wraps up his speech, driving home his point even further, "Instead of just talking about family values, let's start really valuing those closest to us and make a difference in the generations to come. As your Mayor, I promise to uphold these values both publically and privately, and together, I know we will bring the real meaning of family back to modern families here in New York."

  Hearing him say these things is almost unbelievable. I know as soon as he gets home tonight, he won't heed his own advice. He won't so much as look at Jocelyn and I. He'll have the TV on, or disappear into his study. I watch as he waves to his supporters again amid cheers, and then steps away from the podium. Staffers are now making their rounds through the crowded room, handing out handshakes and pats on the shoulders to supporters. I see that my stepdad has his eyes on one staffer in particular, a young, dark-haired man. He must be new because I don't recognize him. He's broad chested with well manicured hair, and he stops him for a quick moment. They are standing a few feet from Jocelyn and I.

  "Do you work for UPS or something?" he asks the staffer.

  "I'm not sure what you mean, sir?"

  "Well, I could've sworn I saw you checking out my package just now," he says in a bold and brazen tone. He's smiling so big that I can see his teeth.

  "I see," the staffer says, smiling in parallel when he understands the euphemism. He seems to immediately warm up, "In that case, I just may be the delivery driver you're looking for."

  I can hardly believe what I'm seeing and hearing. A minute ago, my stepdad was pointing to Jocelyn and I, talking on and on about family values, and now here he is, hitting on a staffer. Actually, I shouldn't be surprised at all. I mean, I know him all too well, but what's shocking is that he's willing to do this at a public event, and risk making himself look like an ass. I'm trying not to stare. I mean, honestly, if he wants to continue to fuck up his marriage and throw away a woman as gorgeous as Jocelyn, I say let him. I'll gladly fucking step in, but I can tell Jocelyn is hurt. She's hearing this too, and is trying to pretend as if she isn't, but it's pretty fucking obvious as we continue to hear him. It only confirms what I've already told her—Michael is gay.

  The staffer extends his arm and ever so slightly brushes his hand against my stepdad's suit. "By the way, I love this suit; it looks great on you, but I must admit, I'm curious to see what it would look like crumpled on the floor of your limo. My name is Kenneth, in case you don't remember… I'm sure you'll be screaming that out later."

  Michael is licking his lips, and I don't mean that figuratively. He's really fucking licking his lips. He responds with a hungry smile, whispers something into the waiter's ear, which elicits another smile, and then he walks over to Jocelyn and I.

  "You two go ahead and ride in the next limo together," he says, only giving us a cursory glance. "I'll go ahead and catch the one right after."

  We nod, but don't respond. I mean, what's there to say? We all know what he means by that, but Jocelyn and I do as he says and proceed like nothing is amiss.

  A limo pulls up within minutes. I open the door and usher her in first. She steps in, one slender, heeled foot after the other. She hasn't said a word for a while, and instead keeps looking off into the distance as if she's deep in thought, but as soon as the door closes, I watch her push up the divider that separates us from the driver. As soon as she does this, my heart begins to hammer in my chest. What's she doing?

  I don't know what to say, and I honestly can't keep my eyes off of her—her perfect breasts cupped in a sexy back dress that hugs her like a second skin, and her legs that beg me to run my hands between them. Fuck, my cock is twitching just looking at her. It has a mind of it own. And then she does the unexpected; she sits right next to me, and carefully places her hand on my thigh. He right breast is nestled against my arm, and I can feel her warmth and smell her perfume—a delicate rose fragrance that only heightens her femininity. My entire body is buzzing with anticipation.

  With her hand moving between the tender insides of my thighs she whispers, "Forget what I said earlier. I don't think we should take a break at all."

  Jocelyn

  I can’t believethat after a speech like that Michael would take the limo with that staffer of his. Family values, yeah, right; they only seem to matter when they benefit his career. But why am I surprised? Lance was right. Michael is gay, and I’m nothing but a pawn to him…

  Why should I restrain myself when Michael doesn’t? If he can do whatever he wants, so can I. And that means, of course, Lance. What else? Even after telling him all about the reasons we couldn’t possibly be together, I still crave him. How could I not? After our first time together, I can barely think of anything else.

  Closing the divider between the driver, and us I move closer to him in the seat, my eyes on his. I can see it all there—desire, hunger, lust. Everything that my husband denies me, his son has in excess.

  I’m breathing hard already, my cheeks flushing as I realize that I won’t be able to control myself. Reaching for him, I lay my hand on top of his and squeeze his fingers gently. We’re sitting side by side, looking at our reflection in the mirror that faces us.

  “Take me,” I whisper, turning into him and looking him in the eye; Lance’s lips curl upward into a slight grin and I don’t need to explain myself further. He leans into me; electricity pulsing between our lips when they press together. Both his hands are on my face, his lips brushing against me softly. “I want you to have me,” I pull back, looking into his eyes. There’s a mischievous expression on his face, one that tells me he already knew I wouldn’t be able to resist him.

  “If that’s what you want,” he smiles then, his hands going to my lower back as his mouth presses against mine once more. I grab his jacket and, with all the patience in the world, take it off of him; my fingers then go to his collar and I start unbuttoning his shirt, anticipating how it will feel to brush my fingers over the smooth skin of his chest.

  “It’s what I need,” I tell him as I come up for air. Sliding his hand under the opening in my dress, he rests the tip of his fingers over the dimples in my lower back, in that narrow patch of naked skin just before my thong. A shiver goes up my spine at his touch, my mind burning as I succumb to desire. So what if it’s wrong? What if it’s scandalous? Sometimes we all need a bit of scandal in our lives. Particularly if it involves someone as young and handsome as Lance.

  His fingers go around my hips and he rests them over my waist, tracing the contour of my thong as he goes. My heart is already beating fast, and it’s not because of lust and desire. Sure, there’s that too, but somehow it’s different now. It’s something more powerful, more… wickedly sinful. As we touch, the alchemy of our bodies turns wrong into right, forbidden into mandatory.

  I finish unbuttoning his shirt and brush my fingers over the hard lines of his abs, tracing their contour as if I’m taking measures. I let my hands climb up to his chest and then they go to his neck; his own hands go up my side and, grabbing my face gently, he parts his lips and slowly brushes his tongue against mine.

  How is it even possible to crave someone so much?

  His hands go up my body, settling on my shoulders as he hooks his fingers on the straps of my dress. He pulls them down my arms, the front of the dress drooping over my breasts and baring my bra.

  He l
ooks at me, licking his lips unconsciously as he looks at my almost naked chest, and then pulls me back into him once more. My naked skin brushes against his, and I can feel it prickling, goose bumps all over me. Trapped in his embrace, I feel his fingers on my back as he unhooks the velvety bra I still have on. I let it slide down my arms, my hard nipples sending a ripple of electricity down my torso as the cool air of the room laps at them.

  I sit still, letting Lance take a good hard look at me. He isn’t smiling or grinning; he just sits there, by my side, looking at my body as if I’m the last woman on earth.

  “You can’t imagine how much I want you. How much I need to feel my cock inside of you,” he says as I grab at his shirt and take it off his body, running the open palm of my hands down his arms. I smile at him, and without taking my eyes off of his, I let my fingers trace a slow and tortuous line over his chest and abs, and then down to his belt. Hooking my fingers around it, I pull Lance into me, our foreheads resting against each other. I reach for him with my mouth and tenderly bite his lower lips.

  “I can imagine it,” I say, “I need it as much as you.”

  His hands go down over the curve of my backside and he grabs me there, our bodies pressing against each other. With my naked breasts against his chest, I swear I can almost feel his heart drumming away.

  I unbuckle his pants and then I pull the belt out from its loops. My heart’s louder now, almost racing. As softly as I can, I brush the tip of my fingers over his crotch, feeling the shape of his erection straining against his pants. To feel his desire for me is almost magical.

  Taking my time, I unbutton his pants, his length pressing against the back of my hands as I do it. My body is already aching to have him in me; but why rush? I want to take my time. I deserve this.

  His pants unbuttoned, I brush my fingertip from the base of his cock to his tip, over the smooth fabric of his boxer briefs. He’s pulsing with desire, but he has no other choice but to let me take the lead, allowing me to drive him insane before he finally snaps.