Cricket Vaughn and the Don - Part One - Sex Stories

Cricket Vaughn and the Don - Part One

... Stevie. "I'm going out on my boat this afternoon. What Fucking Thing?" "Cricket's outside," said Carlo. "So get a fucking exterminator. CRICKET WHO WHAT???!!!" "Cricket Vaughn, Charlie's wife..." "Who the fuck is Cricket? Who the fuck is Charlie Vaughn?" "He's one of Tommy's, he's into us..." "Into us how much" "200 gee's..." "Fuck. Wait a minute... Charlie Vaughn? The singer guy?" "The same. America's New Crooner..." "200 gee's... And vigourish." "What does Tommy say?" Here, Carlo Zitti made a gun motion towards his own head. "Tommy says he'll cover the shit but wants to make an example." "Fucking Tommy... Whatever." "But she's here." "Who's here?" "Cricket Vaughn." "Who the fuck is Cricket Vaughn???" "Charlie Vaughn's wife." "Her name is fucking CRICKET? Is she ENGLISH?" "No... Her name is Jemima. The guys called her Jiminy back in the day. Jiminy Cricket?" "What the fuck are you talking about?" "It's a Disney movie, BAMBI or shit..." "So what does the bitch want?" "I think she wants you not to let Tommy kill the crooner..." "Jesus Christ! Is she cute?" "Meh, 40s, big tits, red hair, pretty face, kinda Irish lookin'... Ass like a 20 year old stripper... " "Let her in on your way out..." * The door opened and Cricket Vaughan walked into Mr. Santangelo’s office. Walked? Think swayed. Sashayed. Glided even. Heels clicking, tapping on the parquet until she reached the Persian carpet that underlaid the big desk. She stood waiting, staring into his face, hip cocked, awaiting an ...

... invite to be seated. He let her wait. She wore business attire, a black suit, black silk blazer over a crisp white button down shirt and a short black skirt. He noticed she had left the top three buttons unfastened. She had a full chest and made sure that her cleavage was visible. He guessed stockings over her black heels. Good gams. Cricket was a very attractive woman. She was forty years old and had red straight hair that she always wore in an elastic band. She had porcelain white skin and piercing green eyes. She was blessed with large breasts. She was one of those women that was really pretty and when she wore her makeup it really didn’t look like she was wearing any. Her face was just flawless. She was tall about 5’7.” All long legs and a great ass. Mr. Santangelo extended his hand and she shook it. He had a very firm handshake. He was a very attractive man, she noticed, well dressed if slightly tired-looking. You could tell he liked the finer things in life. He had lots of art work hanging on the walls. He had a beautiful mahogany desk with a green leather top, gold rivet fixings. There was an antique brown cracked Chesterfield couch in his office. A wet bar in the corner. “Mr. Santangelo, thank you for this meeting. I'm Cricket Vaughn.” "Mrs Vaughn..." "Call me Cricket... I haven't been Mrs Vaughn ever, really. Cricket is fine." Stephano fidgeted in the big leather seat. "I can't call you Cricket.," he murmered. "I fuckin' hate crickets. When I was in the army I did ...