Page 3 of Captured Fantasy

She hesitated, glancing down at her bare ring finger, and shook her head. “I was, but not anymore.”

I lifted my gaze to hers, a little surprised. I’d never messed around with a divorced woman before, especially not one older than I. The idea was attractive, sending a shock of arousal down to my cock.

“What about you?”

“Married? I’m twenty-three,” I said. “So, no.”

Her thighs tensed around my hand and her delicate brows rose slowly.

“Do you like coming onto women at funerals?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her tone.

“Honestly, it’s my first time,” I said.

“Doing what?”

“Fingering a woman at a funeral.”

She watched me, still calm and collected as I hooked her thong and slid it down her legs. I slipped my fingers up over the soft heat of her pussy and she released a little moan that went right to my cock. I gathered the wetness at her entrance and found her clit. Her hips jerked as I slid my wet fingertip over her sensitive, little bud.

“This is a stupid thing to do,” she said softly. “I’ve never done anything like this before…and I’ll probably regret it later. But please make me come.”

I didn’t need any more invitation than that. Spreading her wetness over her entrance, I slipped my pointer finger into her slick, hot pussy, pushing it all the way to my knuckle.

Jesus Christ, she was tight.

She gasped and her muscles clenched, pulsing as I pressed my thumb gently over her clit. Her hips began moving, working against my hand as I stroked her G-spot. God, it felt so good, so fucking intimate to be buried knuckle deep in this woman.

I worked my hand, keeping the same slow rhythm, watching for signs she was building. In the distance, I picked up the chatter of voices downstairs and someone descending the staircase. The window to our left was cracked to let in the faint sound of cicadas and the whirring of sprinklers in the back lawn.

She fit right into this charming world. She was a proper thing, the kind of woman who greeted her husband at the door with a kiss and a freshly cooked meal. I was willing to bet she had a checked tablecloth, fluttering white curtains in her kitchen, and a pitcher of iced tea in her fridge back home.

I was going to need a cigarette after I was done with her.

Her hands were white on the edge of the sink as I worked her clit until it was swollen beneath my touch. A little moan escaped her mouth as I pulled out and licked two fingers and slid them up into her. Jesus, she tasted so fucking good.

Her pussy clenched, slick and hot around me. Her shoulders tightened and she let her head fall back, the little space between her lips showing a glimpse of her tongue between her teeth.

Her breathy moans and the wet sound of my fingers moving inside her filled the bathroom. In the back of my mind, I acknowledged that someone could probably hear us if they stood on the other side of the door, but I didn’t care. I was going to make this picture perfect woman come unraveled all over my hand.

For several minutes nothing happened, but then, without warning, her whole body shuddered. Her pussy pulsed around my fingers and I kept that steady rhythm on her clit as her body tensed. Her eyes flew open as if her pleasure shocked her and a little cry slipped from her mouth. A trickle of wetness slid down my knuckle and I thought it was a shame it was going to waste. Inside my pants, my dick pulsed, begging for release.

“Enza!”

She stiffened, seizing my hair to pull my head back while she was still coming. I slid my fingers from her and got to my feet as she pulled her panties back over her pussy. Amused, I watched her struggle to pull her tight skirt down around her legs and lean forward to check her makeup in the mirror.

“They’re calling for me,” she said. “I’m sorry…I’m not trying to cut this short. That was amazing—thank you.”

Then she was gone, her hips swaying as she left via the side door. I locked it after her and licked my fingers, savoring the sweet, tart flavor of her on my knuckles.

I finished the whole extraordinary experience by jerking myself off to an unsatisfying end. At least it got my dick soft again so I could tuck it back into my pants.

Hair smoothed and clothes brushed off, I left the bathroom. Down below there was a commotion and I crossed the hall to lean over the balcony. It was probably time for Gino’s family to say a few words and as future underboss, I needed to make an appearance.

Downstairs, I joined Amadeo just inside the living room. There was a little table set up on the far end with a rosary, a cross, and a few pictures of the deceased. Mrs. Venetti, the matriarch of one of the church’s prominent families and the mother of one of my good friends, stood at the front of the room. Her graying hair was pinned neatly at her neck and she wore an itchy looking, black dress. The mood was overall somber, a jarring difference from the act that had just taken place upstairs.

“Where were you?” Amadeo asked under his breath.

“Needed to wash up, it’s sweltering.”

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