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I could easily picture Carmen Nicolescu as an airline stewardess, especially so long after we parted.As for me, I had reached fourteen years with the Navy before asthma ended my military career, six years shy of my pension. I still managed to do fairly well by means of using my experience as a mess cook to line up diner work and eventually start my own catering business, ultimately specializing in Eastern European cuisine (a love that I had picked up from Carmen, of course). I was especially proud of my borscht (chilled beet soup) and my goulash (a Hungarian stew often confused with a pasta in the States). Of course, catering had lined up some connections by now and I had done quite well financially for myself, due to the right kinds of investments and securities.“Just wait until she’s here and tastes your kielbasa!” Nadia whispered again, and I knew that she wasn’t just talking about my cooking.I blushed a bit, right as the Grinch’s heart enlarged to beyond its “two sizes too small”. I had a little involuntary pleasure thrill when he rubbed my swollen pussy lips but I was frightened, I didn't want to be aroused, I didn't want to be under his control, but I wanted to know what he meant."What do you mean?" I asked realising that my pussy was swelling and throbbing in response to his stimulus."Just you wait and see" he said "I'm sure your Momma will come to rescue you then we really will see some fun." I waited terrified and then a lot later I heard him go out, then come back about two hours later.Shortly afterwards he came and fetched me taking me into the stable room where I saw my Mom bound over a padded bench like couch, with her body completely bare her breasts poking upwards and her curly pubic bush showing free. She was gagged and coming round from some kind of tranquilliser. My Young brother was tied and gagged; in a padded chair, he too was naked. I was led over to my Mum and her eyes widened with surprise when she saw my huge pendulous milk engorged tits.
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Marlene said that it sounded like an Irish wedding by the sound of the two family names. ‘What? Dalton and O’hara?’ No, that’s more Pollish,’ I joked. ‘Oh Michael, it is not,’ Marlene giggled as she reached up and squeezed my cheek. ‘I was thinking of a green dress, what do you think?’ ‘Marlene, that is totally up to you.’ ‘What color suit are you wearing?’ ‘What color suit?’ I stammered. ‘Um, kind of a dark gray.’ I only owned one suit. It was my wedding/funeral/all purpose suit. Shit, it was only fourteen years old, but it worked in a pinch. I had heard the top morning show in Philadelphia radio, teasing their producer about a department store suit that he had bought for an upcoming wedding that he was attending. The traffic girl said that every man should have a fitted suit at some point in his life. And there I sat with Marlene, the most beautiful, fashionable woman that I ever knew when I made the decision that I indeed would purchase a personally tailored suit. ‘Hey, earth to.

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