Family Relations
by Wayne Scheer
Tony saw it
was getting late. He wanted to surprise his wife
by making dinner.
“Baby
Doll,” he said, from his vantage point on
top of Lena Carponi, “I gotta get home soon.
How long you gonna take?”
Lena tightened
the scissor hold she had on Tony. “It'll
take as long as it takes, goddammit!”
Tony pumped
furiously, thinking about his wife and the veal
piccata he was planning.
“Hey,
slow down. This ain't no race.” She squeezed
tighter and pushed herself upwards in an attempt
to slow him down.
Tony mistook
her actions for an orgasm and he reciprocated
with a grunt and a “fuckfuckfuckfuck!”
He collapsed, still on top of her.
Lena gave him
a few seconds to catch his breath, but wouldn't
let him roll off. Putting her time on the Thigh
Master to good use, she refused to let go. “Stay
with me, Tony. I'm almost there.”
“Almost
there? I told you I have to get home early today.”
“Stop
talking and start humping.” Lena set the
rhythm at a slow, steady pace.
There wasn't
much Tony could do but try to stay with her. He
felt himself shrink and hoped she would release
him. Instead, she found new resolve.
One look at
Lena's oversized breasts flopping and flapping
like two flags in the wind gave Tony new life.
For a few seconds. Then his mind drifted back to
the veal piccata and the good pinot for the sauce
and the fresh lemons he'd picked up at the Farmer's
Market earlier. He had already pounded the veal
thin.
“Hey,
Asshole, remember me? “ Lena slapped his ass
to get his attention. Tony usually liked that.
Not this time. He wanted to get home to his wife.
Lena relaxed
her legs a little and Tony took advantage of the
moment to slither off her and roll away.
“Damn you,
Tony. Get back.”
“No, Baby
Doll, I can't. I'm sorry. Connie'll be home soon.”
“She
doesn't get home until after six.”
“There
are things I gotta do. I'm cooking veal piccata
tonight.”
Lena jumped up
from the bed. “Why didn't you say so? Invite
me over. I haven't seen my sister in a week.”
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