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Chapter 8 Violet Addison
“Nikki, your father has the sweetest dick. My mother just loved sucking it,” said Violet taking a break from deep throating my cock.”
“Thanks, all my VBFs love to suck Daddy off,” said Nikki coming off the man sized pecker lodged in her throat. Nikki had a competitive streak that forced her to swallow Max’s cock right down to his balls then slip her tongue out to lap at his nut sack. There was no question the girl had talent.
For some odd reason possibly having to do with the average woman’s unfulfilled lust for her father’s cock, Violet and Nikki were keeping the daddy fantasy going. Violet knew damn well I wasn’t Nikki’s father.
There were four of us in a private room in the club’s VIP Lounge. Max and I were seated together on the couch with our bare hips touching. Violet and Nikki were kneeling between our legs practicing fellatio combined with digital anal insertion. It was classic oral sex from two expert fellatrix. Violet’s fingers were working my prostate in sync with her mouth sliding up and down my shaft. Her tongue work was superb and she maintained just the right amount of cheek pressure.
My fingers were working Max’s nipples and he returned the favor. Violet’s companion was Maxwell Webber who I guessed was in his mid twenties. He was run way model handsome which thrilled Nikki who couldn’t wait to get her mouth on his pecker. How do you classify a slut who will suck you off two minutes after she shakes your hand for the first time? At least, Violet and I were old acquaintances.
Max was in something called financial services which meant he was really a stock broker. I assumed his life consisted of the gym, making cold calls, and squiring rich clients like Violet through the club scene. His initial interest in meeting a good friend of Violet’s faded when he learned I was a lowly cop, not a trust fund baby with assets in the stratosphere.
Still, he’d gone along when Violet suggested he pair up with Nikki so she could spend some quality suck time with her old friend, Lt. Westbrook. His interest revived somewhat when Violet unzipped my slacks and exposed my manhood. We hetero guys kissed and worked each other’s nipples as our dates blew us.
I’d lied to Arnie when I told him I’d only met Violet a few times. Years ago, I’d been a frequent visitor to the Addison estate. It all started while I was still in uniform and working a charity function for Breast Cancer Awareness at a downtown hotel. Violet’s mother, Cornelia, was the chair person and temporarily a survivor of the disease. Violet was there helping her mom. The hotel’s ballroom was filled with at least a thousand people who except for yours truly and the wait staff had paid five hundred dollars each to eat a sub standard chicken dinner.
I ducked out to get some air something that technically I was not supposed to do; so I was hanging back in the shadows when I saw Cornelia and her husband, Mr. Perry Addison, come out a side door near me yelling at one another. Violet was trailing along trying to calm everyone down. I recognized Mr. Addison as one Boston’s movers and shakers. He was a charter member of an ad hoc group called The Vault. It was The Vault that ran Boston not the voters or their elected officials.
I could tell Mr. Addison was drunk. It wasn’t my business so I stayed put. Perry Addison could have me fired in the time it took him to make a phone call. All of a sudden, the bastard punched Cornelia in the face. It wasn’t a love tap either and she went down hard. Violet flew at her father screaming. Mr. Addison was a big guy whose idea of parental discipline was to grab his daughter by the throat and slap her hard enough to make her nose bleed. He got in a couple of vicious bitch slaps before I arrived on the scene. Most of the time, the arrival of a uniformed cop with a gun on his hip calms things down but Mr. Addison either wasn’t the type to be overawed by a Glock 19 or too drunk to give a shit.
I dodged a couple of round house swings before deciding that no one is above the law. At that time, I was still an idealist. I used my baton to take Mr. Addison down to the pavement in short order. I even threw in a blow to the Addison jewels as punishment for attempting to strike an officer of the law. To a cop, there is no better sound than the one you hear when a twenty six inch steel baton contacts testicles. I’ve seen guys stay down a half hour moaning and crying after being whacked in the nuts.
“I’ll call the EMTs,” I asked reaching for my radio as I cuffed the miscreant?
“No, don’t. I’m all right,” said Cornelia who was being helped up from the pavement by Violet.
She didn’t look all right with a fat bleeding lip. Still, the Addisons weren’t ordinary people whose wishes you could ignore. “Money talks and bullshit walks,” was a favorite saying of my old man.
“Are you sure? Maybe you should go to the ER and let them check you out,” I said.
“No, I must get back inside. Violet, you stay with the officer and make sure this is properly handled,” said Cornelia heading back to the ballroom.
Properly handled meant a number of things. I didn’t arrest Mr. Addison. In fact, I drove him home and helped put him to bed. It also meant I kept my mouth shut about what happened. When I got back to the hotel, the function had just ended and the guests were streaming out.
I found Violet in the crowd and told her Daddy was home sleeping it off. I wasn’t thrilled about how things had turned out. “He should be in jail. He could have really hurt you or your mother. Maybe next time, he will,” I said recalling what I had learned about domestic abuse. Prison or death are the only ways to stop a wife beater.
“Mother wants you to come up to the Commonwealth Suite so she can thank you in person,” said Violet.
“That’s not necessary. Is your Mother all right?” I said.
“Come along, I insist,” said Violet taking my arm and adding, “I wish all Boston cops were as handsome as you.”
They say every one had their quirks. Cornelia and Violet’s shared theirs which was me. They remain the only mother and daughter I have had sex with. And I’m not talking about screwing mom one day and daughter the next. I’m talking about being in bed with the two of them at the same time with lots of around the world and ass to mouth and any other kinky shit that struck our fancy. Mother and Daughter didn’t have any inhibitions and I fit into their program because neither did I.
“Your mother was a wonderful woman. I loved her,” I said giving Violet’s hand a squeeze.
“She was crazy about you but not enough to divorce Daddy and marry a man half her age. Nikki, did you know your Daddy had a thing for my Mom?” said Violet.
“No, really, was he hung up on her,” asked Nikki working hard to get Max off?
“When the cancer came back and she got real sick, he would still come and make love to her. She died in his arms. My asshole Dad wouldn’t have anything to do with her after she lost all her hair. He ran off to Buenos Aires with his tango whore. He even missed her funeral,” said Violet.
“Daddy’s a sweet guy. That’s why my sister and I like do him together,” said Nikki. “It’s something we can look back on when we have children of our own.”
“I can still remember you lying there in bed with her at the end. She weighed ninety pounds and was coughing up blood. Mother said that I should marry you,” said Violet.
“And why didn’t you,” I asked thinking that it would be nice to enjoy the Addison millions?
“You’re too good for a slut like me. Nikki, let’s finish them together so we can snowball.”
Max and I locked lips and pinched nips as we reached the jumping off point. Nikki and Violet swapped our sperm back and forth before swallowing always a satisfying thing to watch.
“I need a favor,” I said. Violet and I were alone. Max had offered to introduce Nikki to Dwayne Coleman, the Red Sox rookie sensation who was somewhere in the VIP Lounge. Nikki jumped at the chance to hump a Sox player. She was quite the fan.
“I’m hurt. I thought you let me suck your dick because you still loved me,” said Violet pretending to pout.
“I do love you and I want you to get me into Club Macabre,” I said.
“I though S&M wasn’t your scene,” said Violet.
“I’m working a case. I think a girl’s death is connected to the club,” I said.
“Must be Cynthia Rose, she’s the only member who’s died recently. The Globe said it was an accident,” said Violet.
“The Globe got it wrong but you can’t tell anybody,” I said.
“I admit things can get a little rough at Macabre but no one has ever been killed or even seriously hurt. Well, maybe the branding is a little extreme but that’s the worst of it. They’ll whip you until you bleed and shock the shit out of your genitalia but nothing more,” said Violet.
“So will you take me,” I asked.
“Yes, provided you do me a favor right now,” said Violet.
“Name it,” I said.
“I need a good railing. I want to feel used and abused. Make it rough,” said Violet pushing me to the floor and spreading her legs.
I pushed my face into what I assumed was Max’s cream pie. With Violet, you could never be sure who fucked her last. It was nice and sticky. She contracted her abs and a big dollop of filling eased out onto my tongue. There’s nothing quite like the taste of semen that’s been marinated in pussy juice.
I eased on top of Violet and slapped her face hard. I wrapped one hand around her throat while the other pressured her jaw hinge forcing her mouth open. She had that wild look in her eye I’d seen before. It reminded me of the time a buddy who managed the Stoneham Zoo invited me to watch the jaguars breed. It was about the most savage rape you could imagine. But in spite of everything the look in the female’s eye meant she wanted it that way. We maintained eye contact as I spit the slime into her mouth.
“Swallow it, Bitch,” I demanded.
“Make me,” said Violet.
I bitch slapped her hard enough to snap her head around. That convinced her.
I went back to check out her asshole. I wasn’t surprised to find another load. I felched it then slapped her silly until she swallowed it.
The lady asked for a good railing and that is exactly what she got. I worked her right tit while I fucked her dog style. By the time, I finished, her boob looked mangled.
A general rule with Violet was that the rougher the sex the more frequently she climaxed. I pounded her pussy so hard I hurt; then I switched to her ass.
She was a small woman who bought her clothes in the petites. Having my nine inches expand her bowels was painful. Having a two hundred pound male slamming his cock in your ass while he tries to rip your nipple off is only for the few.
I blew my load over her face; then used my cock to smear her makeup. She looked damn awful by the time I finished. But degradation was how she wanted it to end.
“Mother always said you were the best, Simon,” said Violent when we cuddled post coitus.
“I miss your Mom,” I said.
“So do I,” said Violet before falling asleep.
I won’t ever forget the night Cornelia passed. I got to the Addison estate late. I was tired and dirty. The day before a cop had shot it out with a pair of black kids on the campus of Roxbury Community College. He’d caught them dealing drugs and tried to make an arrest. Fortunately, the officer was one of the best shots in the force, maybe in the world. While they were spraying bullets randomly out of their Tec-9s, he calmly fired two bullets at each shooter. According to the coroner, one bullet took out the left ventricle and the other the right.
Although it was a perfectly righteous killing and the dealers had criminal records dating back to grammar school, the students at RCC decided to stage a protest that turned into a riot. It was July and hot as hell. Boston hadn’t had a public disturbance in years so we were due.
I’d spent the day in riot gear which is not designed for comfort. Standing shoulder to shoulder with my fellow officers behind a heavy plastic shield wearing a ten pound helmet in the July heat is not my idea of a good time. It was almost dark when our watch commander decided he’d had enough shit thrown at him. Several of our guys had been injured and taken away by the EMTs.
The word came to advance and we marched forward batons at the ready. Some of the demonstrators, the smart ones, ran but maybe half stayed. There was a skinny black girl with a mega phone screaming about her right to peaceful assembly. She’d struck me as the leader and chief rebel rouser. Heaving chunks of pavement at the police is not my definition of peaceful.
I found myself facing the girl with a mega phone which she swung at my head. I landed the baton on her wrist causing her to drop it. The baton made a nice cracking sound when it hit the bone. Then I proceeded to deal out street justice landing the baton where it would hurt the most. It was a long beat down and I worked up a sweat. Her face was a bloody mess and I bet her boobs were purple by the time I finished. I slipped a pair of plastic cuffs around her wrists and tossed her in the paddy wagon.
I wasn’t done with her. “Tell the matrons at Essex County to treat this one special,” I said to the driver. That was a code. It meant Big Bertha’s fist would make a careful search for contraband inside her uterus. The funny thing is that same girl was on the front page of yesterday’s Herald. Tamika Taylor is running for city council. History says that our greatest leaders began as rebels fighting the system but eventually become part of it.
So it wasn’t the kind of day that got you ready to help someone get to the other side.
“The doctor said it won’t be long. She’s been calling for you,” said Violet greeting me at the top of the stairs.
Rich people have the resources to die at home. Cornelia’s bedroom had been transformed into a well-equipped hospital room. The big difference was that the art on the wall were originals and worth a fortune.
“Hello gorgeous,” I said leaning down to kiss her. She felt cold. The cancer had wasted her body. She was down to ninety pounds. If a doctor ever tells me I’m going to die of cancer, I’m going to stick my Glock in my mouth and pull the trigger.
“How was the riot,” asked Cornelia in a whisper?
“I busted some heads,” I said.
“Is that blood on your shirt,” asked Cornelia touching the stained material with her trembling hand.
“Yes, I broke a girl’s nose,” I said.
“Come to bed and tell me all about it,” said Cornelia.
“I need to clean up first. I’m filthy,” I said.
“Make it quick or you’ll miss my finale,” said Cornelia.
Cornelia’s last wish was to die in a young man’s arms, mine actually. Violet had been right about her dad. Perry had flown off to Buenos Aires with his female assistant for the ostensible purpose of improving his salon tango. Strangely though, he and I had gotten along on my frequent visits to the Addison Estate. If he had any hard feelings about the beating I gave him or the fact I was his wife and daughter’s lover, he didn’t show it. In fact, we got it on one night when I met him in the kitchen. It was three in the morning and we were both on the prowl seeking a sandwich. You work up an appetite fucking mother and daughter.
“Cornelia says you are quite the swordsman,” said Perry as he spread mustard on a slice of rye bread. “And my daughter calls you super stud. She also informed me you’re AC/DC.”
“I cover the waterfront,” I said.
We almost finished the sandwich when he asked me to sodomize him. “I’d like to bottom for you,” said Perry pulling a family size bottle of Astro-Glide out of his robe pocket. “That way you can say you fucked all the Addisons.”
Given that I was doing the rest of the family, I couldn’t think of a reason to say no. He sucked and rimmed me before presenting his well-lubed sphincter dog style. I worked his nips as I savaged his hole. It was bareback and he had a thing for sucking a cock that had been deep in his ass; so we switched around several times.
He asked me to finish in his mouth and the man whore in me complied. It was one of many very odd nights at their mansion. Fitzgerald said the rich are different from us and in the case of the Addisons he was right.
I knew that when Cornelia was gone things would be different. Violet was going to live in Rome for a year. She was anxious to experience Italian cock.
Violent and Natalie, Cornelia’s nurse, bathed me. The pair had been acting as Cornelia’s fluffers once she got too sick to blow me or jerk me off. It’s not easy maintaining a hard on when you are screwing the dying. I had to take it easy. The fluffers would work my balls and asshole as I gently plowed Cornelia. Physically, it was tough. I couldn’t put any weight on her and had to support my upper body during a long slow missionary fuck.
That last night, Violent and Natalie sucked my cock and ate my ass until I was ready to blow. Somehow, I managed to wedge my dick into Cornelia’s cunt and shoot my load.
“That’s the way I want to go with a pussy full of your sperm,” whispered Cornelia when I finished. “Thank you, Simon.”
Violent and I cuddled her from both sides. Exhausted, I fell asleep. Natalie woke me up to tell me Cornelia was gone. I sat by the bed and cried for an hour.
Violet and I were still cuddled up when Max and Nikki returned. Nikki could barely hold her head up. The little vixen was totally fucked out. After Nikki had screwed Dwayne Coleman to show him how much she appreciated his play in center field, she had joined a group of black rappers who gang fucked her until she collapsed.
Somehow I managed to get her to the car where she quickly fell asleep. Darlene had just gotten home from the bachelor party and was seated at the kitchen table counting her take, a little over twenty five hundred. We undressed Nikki and crawled into bed with her. I slept for twelve hours. It was one hell of a date.
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