0 comments/ 17994 views/ 1 favorites Pretty Pleas By: adrianhunter Richard knew he was in trouble, big trouble, when she finally managed to get the third ring around his cock. Definitely smaller than the first two. And there were probably two to go. The judge had barely looked up when the foreman handed him the slip of paper. Not guilty. Shit. Where the fuck did she go? Was she just going to leave him here standing spread-eagled at the foot of the bed with his dick stuck somewhere between raging erection and death? The dipwad figured he got off lucky with 500 hours of litter for accidental, given she had pushed for attempted. She was probably right. But everyone seemed happy to assume that the guy had simply gotten tanked and misjudged the sidewalk. Hard to believe someone would intentionally point his Accord at the Blockbuster where his girlfriend worked and punch it. Besides, it had been the last case of the day, and the judge wanted to get home early because the Knicks were playing tonight. It was anyone's season. He groaned as her fingers caressed, then twisted, one of his tiny nipples. Please, no. Not clamps. Not now. He thought he heard her say something. She was probably asking him if he liked what she was doing. Objection. Denied. Continue. The kid didn't want to cop a plea. So he pulled the jury lever and somehow lined up three cherries. The leather cuffs chafed against his thighs and ankles as he struggled fitfully. Good luck getting the bed to move. Real mahogany, or something likewise. A class suite all the way. Too bad they wouldn't pass this way again. Never the same hotel twice. One of their few rules. He found he could turn his head a little, not that it mattered with the collar roped on both sides to the top of the bedposts. Not to mention the way the stiff leather around his neck, all six inches of it, cupped his chin so he had to stare at the ceiling. And he truly regretted buying that oversized ball gag, now that he had had ample opportunity to sample its effects on his own jaw. Victory was often a matter of opinion. Especially when you work for the system defending miscreants who can't afford a proper lawyer. He put criminals back on the street so the D.A.'s office couldn't turn them into hardened professionals at Sing Sing. Nobody was exactly doing God's work here. They knew they were doomed to a relationship from day one. Elizabeth was one of those accidental martyrs who are so fucking relentlessly right about everything except their own lives. He feigned shambling eloquence as a beard for his mirrorshade cynicism. Her tragedy was staying locked up so tight, he halfway expected her to explode on contact. Which they did. His secret mine. Especially when they finally figured out why such opposites had attracted. One night, she was furious. She'd lost a three-pointer because some cop smudged the grip when he found the gun at the scene. When he had dared to smile at her snarling, she threw him on the bed, tied his wrists behind his back with her stockings, and did his ass with the vibrator. Things slid downhill fast from there. Hyperlinks are a marvelous tool for extremists in search of the proper dynamite. When he discovered ponygirls, he had to increase his credit line. And, oh, how she hated animal training. So he did it all the time. Lose a case, win the race. Hi ho, Silver. His eyes started to water as she pinched the head of his cock until it went limp between her fingers. Fourth ring, definitely smaller. He wriggled his fingers in the leather prisons hanging high from a short strap buckled to the back of the collar, elbows pointing out and wrists criss-crossed awkwardly behind his back. "Bondage mittens" sounded too innocuous for a plaything that precluded any sort of safeword signaling when combined with a gag the size of a softball. Not that she cared if she occasionally beaned the batter. Not that he did either when it was his turn to pitch. This wasn't some demented ballet in public with a stranger. More like consensual rape, speaking of scenic oxymorons. Pleasurable torture. Loser tops. He tried to adjust to the fifth ring nestled just beneath the pilgrim's hat, the sound of blood pounding in his ears and groin. Same size? Smaller? Hard to tell. She stood up and dangled something silvery in front of his eyes. Clamps. The kind that don't slip off easily. Which meant weights. She attached the first one on his right nipple (warning: some assembly required), and left its partner hanging next to his navel. A preview, he supposed. The lead dog on the D.A.'s sled does not consort with a public defender. Especially in a city with competing tabloids. He marveled at their luck to date. Of course, they knew all the tricks. Never seen in public. The hotel drill. A new Hotmail account every few days...he tended toward scientific names for reptiles, she used whatever variation of "bitch" the system barfed up for her. Scowls and snarls in the hall. People simply presumed they were mortal enemies. Which they were, in a sense. But it was so much easier to run the prison camp this way. She knelt back down in front of his crotch, his eyes straining to see more than the top of her much-too-pretty head. Despite excessive stimulation to the contrary, his cock was hopelessly inert inside the rings. So it didn't take her long to work number six around its tip. Lucky seven took some doing though, given its diameter couldn't measure more than an inch. When she finished, she gave his swollen balls a powerful squeeze, then tightened the straps around his scrotum until he could scarcely breath. More than anything, she hated a perp with a tongue for the media. And he had known she would extract her pound of flesh for all that wigger jive on the courthouse steps after the verdict this afternoon. Was that a smile? Defcon five. She picked up the loose clamp and twisted it down savagely on his other nipple. Like a piranha attacking. Then she produced another chain, a long one with a clip on one end and what looked like a metal golf ball on the other. The clamps tugged, then jingled. She reached down to his caged cock and hooked the middle of the links to the last ring. Her fingers glanced against his torso as she lifted the rest of the chain, and the weight, into his range of vision. "Whoops," she said tonelessly as she allowed the ball to drop out of her hand. Richard stiffened, then groaned miserably, his extended cock stretching only slightly downward because of the chain to the clamps, yet still supporting most of the weight swinging between his knees. Elizabeth turned and gave him an uncharacteristic wink. "Looks like I'd better get ready for bed, too." She yawned ostentatiously, but her eyes stayed riveted to his, soaking up his mounting, and quite palpable, panic. "You like?" she asked as her fingers crept down her sides and started untucking her turtleneck. The grey cashmere improbably slipped skyward, replaced by French vanilla flesh and shimmering lingerie. I can deal with this, he lied to himself. By the time she got to her satin briefs, his shaking made the ball swing and bounce like a Yo-yo on the finger of a beginner. She slipped a finger between her legs, then reached up and pasted her scent under his nose. "Sweet dreams," she whispered theatrically as she drifted backwards to her suitcase laid open on top of the bureau. She pulled out their biggest plug and kissed it. "A midnight snack," she said. Then she was behind him. The covers rustled. The lights went out. Richard wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it couldn't have been more than an hour before a match flared. "I feel guilty," he heard her say just before the long tapered candle sputtered into view sideways in front of his groin. So did his next client. Couldn't stop bragging about it, actually. A charming tale of love, revenge and leaded baseball bats. Took the judge maybe a minute to send the joker upstate long enough to miss all three Star Wars sequels. Richard logged onto My Yahoo as Helodermatidae, a particularly nasty breed known for their venomous behavior, and sent a simple message to Bitch37489@mail.com: "Newark Airport Marriott." "Room 925," she said flatly when she picked up his call from the lobby. The door wooshed open with nothing more than a nudge from the edge of his large suitcase, but it closed like a vacuum-sealed airlock. Must be a blackout room for pilots and crew on layover. Soundproof. Elizabeth didn't look up as he walked past, her gaze intently focused on the mottled carpet under her hands and knees, but he could see the edges of the leather-coated ring holding her mouth open. As instructed. Right now, his interest was focused exclusively on another suitably suggestive entrance, the one raised high in the air and quivering ever so slightly. The one she loathed being taken by. The one he always started with. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out a joint he had purloined from the evidence room. Such choice material these days. His counterparts in Humboldt must be slacking off, or more likely skimming 50 percent. The way her back dips, she looks like a Stratocaster, he decided as he suctioned extra air to send the smoke on its merry way deep into his lungs. Or a big cat who hates her leash. Damn, the new heels looked good. Special delivery from Brussels. Seventeen centimeters. Hold for guest arrival. He stubbed the roach into the ashtray on the bedside table, stood up, and started unbuttoning his jeans. It always took forever when he was stoned. By the time he pulled out, they were both seeing stars. Still kneeling behind her, he reached over her shoulder to pick up the lead off the floor. As he rose, he gave her cheeks one final slap, but they were already too reddened for his open fingers to leave much of an impression. No need for words when a tug would suffice. Her training was starting to pay off. He led her crawling to the open closet space in the entrance hall across from the bathroom. When she was directly in front of the full-length mirror haphazardly bolted to the door, he pulled her upright on her knees. His suitcase yielded several coils of thin rope shanked into tight loops. He separated one and pulled out a line maybe eight feet long. She watched intently as he slowly crafted a slipknot out of one end, then closed her eyes tight as he threaded a big handful of her hair through the open noose. The other end went up and over the closet bar, then down to the back of her collar, where it replaced the leash on the back ring. She didn't start losing it until he picked up one of her ankles and pushed it flat against the top of a thigh. He loved when she started making those little sex noises of hers. A combination of a machine gun and a kitten mewling. He centered a new line and started by lashing it around her foot. To make sure her shoe stayed on. Then ankle, then thigh, then together. Knot. And again, until she was balanced precariously on her bent-over knees. Next came her waist, with two long strands left hanging dangerously in front of her quite-open crotch. Followed closely by her wrists in front of her, with a little slack between the 10 or so wraps around them. But just so he could get them up, over, then behind her head. Slack, meet strands. Wrists, meet pussy. Pulling back her sweet lips to brutally expose the secret spot. Bump, actually. For now. She shot him the look. He laughed. Out loud. Grind on, baby. For all he knew, this was the last time. She couldn't quite believe it either. Her, a judge? End of the month, apparently. The district's superstar goes supernova. What passes for justice in New York. Just a handful of cases between now and then. Last one decides it for keeps. Not that anyone would know. Not that anyone had ever known. Their little forever secret. Make it count. Luckily, he'd been shopping. The Kmart for the plastic broom and the Charms Pop. The net for the rest. He debated a second joint, and went for it. Serious machinery, he noted as he slipped the leather loop around her neck and nestled the support pad between her breasts, noting the 1985-model Lars Ulrich heartbeat in her left one. Master of puppets, indeed. He buckled the strap tight behind her back, her breasts heaving heavily over the black band. He noted a leftover foot of line hanging down from her pinioned wrists. What the fuck. Ingenious, really. A long threaded screw stuck out from between her breasts. A smooth rod crossing it perpendicular like a little T. With two clamps...no, make that presses...welded to the ends. One simply twisted the butterfly nut, and the rod headed in the opposite direction of the wearer's nipples. Causing them to stretch. Along with the breasts. Eventually. A judge, he marveled. Could they continue? How could they continue? Could they continue, please? Did they have a choice? One last case. Total luck of the draw. Suspended like that, her breasts looked a little like pink daschunds. He hesitated for only a moment, then used the last of the rope to bind them. Richard hummed the Stones while peeling the wrapper off the lollipop...my favorite flavor is cherry red... He stuck it through the ring in her mouth and rolled it around on her tongue. Good and wet. Then he knelt down behind her and worked the pop part under the two ropes pressing against her asshole. It wasn't going to take long before she relaxed and swallowed it whole. He wondered if it would melt in there. Some day, he would really have to go to town with the duct tape. But tonight, all he needed was a little strip. To paste a single strand of artificial straw surrendered by the broom. A blue not found in nature. But long and strong and thin and plastic. To the side of the vibrator. Turn it on. High. The way it oscillates is hypnotic, he thought. A blur that's almost solid. Off. Tuck the bulk of the party penis under the ropes near the top of one of her thighs. Adjust it so the skinny spine is just barely touching her clit. On. Whee. Now, that's flicking. His balls burned as he imagined what it felt like to be whipped by something like that. Based on her reaction, he was probably underestimating the effect. She's really starting to lose it now. Surrendering to her fate. So rare to see her so uncomposed. And the waves probably haven't even started crashing yet. He figured about an hour before she'd be ready. His cock stirred expectantly at the thought of her tongue working it over. Such a sucker. "You're such a dick," she hissed, redundantly. "And you're my bitchin' betty," he replied, as always, before he stuck the handle of the flogger between her teeth. She didn't dare drop it, but he could always pinch her nose when he was ready. Her eyes stayed cemented to the monitor as he clicked the bookmark list. Time for a little insex.com. Those puppies are sick, but creative as hell. No mercy on their options menu. He moved his hand from the mouse to the keyboard to type in his ID and password, only partially aware of the twine wrapped around his wrist going taut. Tied to the other end, her nipples had a very different opinion. The simple things were sometimes best. A spreader bar between her feet. An arm binder. A ball gag with a rubber strap around her neck, waiting for the inevitable failure with the flogger. He sneaked a glimpse down to her crotch to admire the design he had carefully applied around her newly-shaved pussy. He wasn't wild about the color of the mehendi, but he did like the delicate sworls and curlicues. He resisted the urge to reach over and push his fingers deep inside her. Mustn't smudge and make it that much harder for the tattoo artist to follow. Or maybe he would settle for his initials for now. One letter on either side. She could always grow it back to cover them. He knew it was going to take several weeks before he decided. In the meantime, he really needed to get started on her piercings. Nipples and tongue for sure. Maybe down there, too. She squirmed fitfully on her stool as he pointed and clicked at various inspirations. They'd already spent over an hour at the Frederick's site selecting her new intimates collection. To wear under her new robes. Coincidentally, they argued their last case in front of the judge she was replacing. Another fuckface with a trunk full of snort. Pulled over for doing 90 on the expressway. Probable cause. Search. Seizure. Of course he howled entrapment. No dice. Three to five for possession with intent to sell. The gallery cheered as the D.A.'s office notched another kill. A little party afterwards before he headed to Vermont. How nice for her to go out a winner. Could've gone either way. But everybody was too tipsy to second-guess. All-day butt plug. He liked the sound of that. "Add to shopping cart." Click. He imagined her splayed over the stool, her arms pulled down toward the spreader bar, defenseless. He'd always wondered if you could really whip a girl there until she came. He'd soon find out. The old fart had actually winked as he climbed into his new Range Rover. A parting gift from the good guys. Dee-fense, dee-fense, he had whispered as he handed the judge the keys. Well, she was worth every penny. *** Copyright (c) 2002 by Adrian Hunter. All rights reserved. Please do not repost nor repurpose without permission. Pretty Please Can you do me a favour? My next door neighbour knocked on my door, and asked if I could do her a favour. "Its a bit personal, can I come in?" I led her through to my kitchen where the kettle was boiling. We were sitting at my kitchen table with mugs of coffee before she spoke again. "I know it sounds odd, but please could you fuck my bottom?" I was sipping my coffee when she said this, and we spent the next few minutes mopping up the spillage. Luckily neither of us was scalded. She had only lived next door for a couple of months. At first she spoke to nobody, I saw her now and again, just doing the normal things, carrying shopping, drying washing, tidying the garden, that sort of thing. We acknowledged each other, but I don't think that we had said a word to each other until she was at my bus stop as I was going to work. We sat together on the bus and chatted. She got off it after about half my journey. Then, a week or so ago I was crossing the road, and she joined me. We saw the bus coming, and had to rush to catch it. She was carrying a large zip-up bag which was slowing her down. I grabbed it and carried it for her. We just made it. I helped her to stow the bag. "I'm Sally by the way," she said when we were seated. "I'm Robert, or usually Bob." "You live next door to me don't you. Thanks so much for that. I couldn't afford to be late again" "You are on your way to work?" "Yes." In the next few minutes she learned what my job was, and where I worked, I learned that she had moved from another town, but nothing about her work. When she got off I saw her lug the bag through an anonymous door between two shops. On my way home I tried to identify the door again. It looked as if it gave access to an upstairs flat or office. There was an illuminated sign in an upstairs window, but the bus windows were steamed up and dirty. I could not read it. That happened in the middle of the week before last. Now it was late Saturday morning, and Sally and I both had the weekend off. "So what do you say. Could you do it for me." "Well yes, no, yes, I mean, of course, but why?" She bit her lip and looked pleadingly at me. "But you're, I don't know. I must be twice your age. I am sure that any number of young lads would... given half a chance." "I know, Bob, but I think you'd be kind to me." She paused, looked at me and studied my puzzlement. "You don't know what I do, do you? I thought you knew. You saw where I worked?" "Well yes, but I still don't know what your job is?" "Oh sorry, Bob. I shouldn't have said anything." "Well you have to tell me now. What do you do." "Um, what shall I call it? Adult services. I'm on the game. I'm a prostitute." I didn't know what to say. She looked unhappy. She made to finish her coffee and to leave. I was intrigued and not a little aroused. "Don't go." "Sure?" "No, I mean yes, Please stay." To tell the truth. I was lonely. Since my wife had left I had avoided anything to do with sex, and I suppose that was not much different from before she left. There was a long pause. Eventually I could not help myself. "Why?" "Why what?" "Why do you want me to, um, to ..." "Anal sex?" "Yes, that." "It's my Boss, Mrs. Smith, she wants us to offer new services." "But surely she can't..." "She's the boss. We do what she says, or we leave. And I have sort of told her that I used to do it at my last place." "And you hadn't?" "No." There was another long pause. Unspeaking, I indicated that I might put the kettle on again, and our mugs were refilled. "So do you think you could, please?" "Let me get used to the idea. Have you had lunch? Shall we go to the pub and get something?" "OK. Let me change my shoes. I'll meet you outside in ten minutes. OK?" Neither of us was used to drinking at lunchtime. We had sandwiches with a side order of chips, drank beer, and talked. Over one beer I told her about my wife, who had left me a few years before. She had caught a bad case of religion, which despite her efforts I was immune to. Then her Mother had died and she had spent more and more time looking after and preaching at her Father. The poor bloke died soon afterwards. She then sold her parent's house, divorced me, and went to live in a happy-clappy community somewhere. The last I heard of her, she was working as a housekeeper for a vicar somewhere. Over the next beers she told me of her time at college, of going into debt, and drifting into sex work to pay the bills. She had finished college, could not get a real job, and so had spent the last couple of years moving from one town to another, one brothel to another. We were both a bit unsteady when I led her back from the pub and into my house. "So how are we to go about it?" "I bend down and you push?" she giggled. I was totally unused to anyone speaking about sex like that. She turned and put her arms around my neck, and kissed my nose cheekily. It was the first time we had touched. "Come on then!" She took my hand and led me upstairs and through into my dusty untidy bedroom. She started unbuttoning her blouse. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. My wife had been an 'only in the dark' person. Her bra came off. I stared. She started working on the buckle of my trouser belt. I started pulling off my sweatshirt. I was aware that I was sweaty and somewhat niffy under the armpits. Or was it just nerves, and was I delaying? "Shall we have a shower?" "Yes, good idea. Lets get to know each other first." I put on a dressing gown. I passed one of my clean shirts which she slipped on. It nearly reached her knees. I led her to the bath room. The water was soon running warm, and she took off the shirt. The untied my dressing gown and slipped it off my shoulders. We stepped into the shower. I watched the water spraying onto those beautiful soft rounded breasts. She saw me watching, and took hold of my hand and placed it in the spray. She put her other arm round me and pulled herself towards me. My hand was trapped between her breast and my chest. I was aware, and she was aware of my excitement. She reached for the soap. She stepped away from me and ran the soap down her front. She encouraged me to wash her. She started to wash me. We were both enjoying the process. The lather spread. I washed her back. My hands strayed back to her breasts. I turned. My back was soon clean, and I felt her hands creep downwards and she started to wash between my buttocks. It felt strange. Her finger touched my anus. I swayed as my knees almost gave way at the sensation it caused. "My turn." She gave me the soap, and she turned her back to me. I gingerly moved my hands and the soap downwards, and between the pressing flesh. The soap made it so easy. My fingers slid around. I explored. I pressed. I found her tiny wrinkled portal. I tickled it. She lifted a leg onto the shower stool, making my access easier. "That feels so nice." She leaned further forward. "Go on. Go further." I pressed. I felt the portal opening, and my finger slid inwards a centimetre or so. She wriggled herself against my finger. "Go on. Try it. Now. Fuck my arse now." She bent over a bit further and her hand felt backwards until it clasped my penis. She pulled it towards her bum. She steered it into place. "Ready?" "I think so." I replied. She put her hands against the shower wall. She pushed herself backwards against me. "OK. Push it in." That's when it went so wrong. I pushed suddenly and hard. Sally gasped and squealed and twisted away from me. "Are you all right?" "I think so. But it hurt me. It hurt me." She had tears in her eyes. I held her to me, feeling ashamed of the pain I had caused. I turned off the shower, found a towel and wrapped her in it. I found another and covered myself. "Come on. Let's rest a bit." I led her to the bed. We lay, hugging each other, she sobbed. I quietly kept saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" to her. Eventually we slept. Over cups of tea a couple of hours later she said, "We must be doing it wrong." "Lets look for advice on the web." "Ok." I fired up my laptop and started browsing. Like most laptops, the angle of clear viewing is not too good, so for us both to read, we were soon snuggled up together to look at the screen. Somehow, we found ourselves with me controlling the mouse while she did the one fingered typing. Our other arms were round each other. We found various photos, videos, and how to guides. The main thing that we learned, was "Do not believe the videos". The serious guides told us to go slow, to use condoms, plenty of lubrication, and to start off small, perhaps with some sex toys. As we read, we got more interested, and I know I got excited again. I also know that Sally moved my free hand onto one of her breasts. She turned to face me, and I kissed her. She lifted my hand off her breast, and gently twisted my wrist. I wondered if the kiss had been beyond bounds, but I realised that she was only looking at my watch. "Lets go shopping." she said. "What?" "There's a bus to town in 15 minutes." "Where to?" "Well it goes past ..." She mentioned the well known local red-light district. "There's a sex shop there." "Oh, I don't know. What if someone sees us?" "Easy," she grinned, "Ask them what they were doing in that area on a Saturday afternoon themselves." The Saturday bus times were different. We popped back into the pub for another drink before we did get on the bus, where we were soon snuggled up, behaving a bit like two naughty school kids. The shop opened my eyes. We both wandered round it. I was amazed by what was on sale. I could not imagine what use much of it might have, but I know that I did not fancy it. She, on the other hand, had a look of disgust and upset on her face, which given her career, surprised me. "What's the matter?" "The prices. I don't know that I can afford what we need." I looked at her. "I get paid cash. I have just paid my rent, and now I am nearly broke," she told me. "I'll get it." "No, you can't. You are doing me a favour. You can't pay for it." "OK, call it a loan. But I think I might get some benefit as well...?" She smiled again. I let her choose. She picked up a package with three different sized plugs in, and a large packet of extra strong condoms. The plugs were pink, smooth, and conical., like a childs drawing of a pine tree. Below the widest part it was a stalk above a larger base. "Can you afford these?" I took them from her, and took them to the counter. "We'll take these." "Anything else? Any books or videos?" "I'll look." I turned to Sally. "Anything else we want?" She took my hand, and we surveyed the racks. The assistant came over to us, and told us that the anal videos were on one wall. We followed his guidance. We chose, paid, and left with our thick unmarked plastic bag. We crossed the road to the bus stop, only to discover that we had an hours wait. "Can we go to a pub, or somewhere please? I need a..." "So do I." We walked towards the town centre, and soon found an open bar. The barman watched us enter. While Sally found the ladies, I bought a couple of drinks. I found a table in a quiet corner, away from the blaring television. Soon it was my turn to relieve myself. I returned to find that she had bought some peanuts and crisps for us. We had a second, and then a third drink. Its wasn't our fault, the snacks were very salty. By the time we got off the bus outside our homes we were bursting for a pee again. Hers was the nearest door, so she quickly unlocked it and rushed upstairs. "Come upstairs and use the sink." she shouted. I did. She sat, finishing her gush, while I unzipped and sheepishly but urgently started my own. Her hand came up and turned on the tap. Both more comfortable, she looked at me again, and she puckered up for another kiss. She turned off the tap. I zipped up. "Oh dear." she playfully said, "I was going to kiss him too." Needless to say, this offer was another first for me. Remember what my ex. was like. She led me out of the bathroom. It was clear that she was not in funds. The house was very sparsely furnished. Her bedroom door was open -- I could see a mattress on the floor, and her wardrobe was a suitcase on a kitchen chair. "I'm hungry." she declared. "We could order a take-away?" "No, I'll cook something." She went into her kitchen, and I heard cupboard doors being opened. "Pasta OK? I think I have the makings." Now one thing that my ex. could do was to cook. She had learned well from her mother. Her cuisine showed it. We always had a roast on Sunday, cold cuts on Monday, shepherd's pie on Tuesday, sausages, chops, fish, and so on through the week. It was well if tastelessly cooked and was boring. Her father had been a 'I want good plain food and not messed about' person. Potatoes every meal. He thought that brown or tomato sauce was a bit exotic. Since she had left I had survived with takeaways, ready meals and fry-ups. My trouser waist band strained with the results. The thought of someone cooking something different was very welcome. I heard the squeak of a cork emerging from a bottle. Sally bought a glass full of red win through and gave it to me. "I'm not really trying to get you tiddly so I can take advantage of you. Honest!" she winked. "I needed the wine for the sauce." I followed her back into the kitchen. In comparison to the rest of the house this was well stocked. Sally was peeling garlic and onions. On the windowsill were pots of herbs. A small wine rack was half full. There was a table, no chairs, and one stool. Put that there, sit down, and chop these. I did as directed, and started chopping the onions. She saw me start. "You are useless, aren't you." She took the knife from me, and in a blur she turned the onions into fine dice. She gave me a tin opener and a couple of tins. These I coped with to her satisfaction. "You're not vegi are you?" I shook my head. She turned to the fridge. "Good, this needs using." She took out a stub of hard dry reddish sausage. It was soon chopped and sizzling in a pan with the onions. The kitchen filled with a strange spicy aroma. I stood up to watch what was happening in the pan. She moved herself in front of me and pressed herself back against my body. My arms went forward round her waist. "A bit higher darling." Her breasts filled my hands. "Just a mo." She put down her spoon and her hands slid up under her blouse. She pulled it off, and her bra followed. Then she picked up an apron. "We wouldn't want your hands to be splashed, would we?" As I fondled her under the apron I felt her nipples hardening, and her bum ground itself gently against me. "It's been so, so long" she murmurred. "But I thought..." "No, Bob, a lover, not a punter. A gentleman. A gentle man. It's been so long." She stirred the pan. "Thank you Bob, thank you." I cupped her breasts, and gently rolled her nipples with my thumbs. "Mmmm." She squirmed. "Its so good, So good." Squirm. Deep breath. "No, stop, Please stop." Her tone of voice had changed. What had I done wrong? "What's wrong?" "Absolutely nothing, lovey, but I need to concentrate on this," She tapped the pan with her spoon. "And I was losing it." Business-like now, she told me to fill the kettle. I watched her. I watched her hair. I watched the seat of her jeans. I watched her undulating apron. I watched her face, her nose, her eyes. She licked her lips. "Pour it in there." I was unaware that the kettle had boiled. I filled the indicated pan on the stove. She tipped a bag of pasta shapes into it. We both picked up our wine glasses and sipped. I kissed a bead of wine from her lip. In mock offence she demanded a sip from my glass in return. We were beautifully deliciously silent, watching the shapes roil in the water until she tested a piece and went back to work. "The plates are up there." I reached up and lifted down the meagre stack of assorted plates and dishes. She shouldn't have done it, but she came behind me, put her hand between my legs and fondled me. They shattered -- the plates that is. "Oh bugger!" I said. "Later dear, later." I turned, we laughed and hugged. "We will have to eat it out of the pan." "No, we will go to my place." She finished cooking, replaced the apron with her blouse, and we locked up and moved next door. She looked through my cupboards, then disappeared back to her own house, to return with a bag from which she did the final seasoning and garnish.. What followed was like nothing I had ever experienced before. She watched me as I put the first forkful into my mouth. "Oh love," she beamed, "There is nothing as good as seeing someone really enjoying your cooking." "Nothing?" I quizzed. "I mean it. Nothing. Especially not when they are paying me for it." We ate, drank the wine. Chatted. "Shall we?" "Yes." We left the washing up. Went upstairs. In my bedroom we looked at each other, at a loss to know how to start. "I suppose I could give you a massage?" she grinned, "It's the usual start?" "OK." She helped me to undress, then indicated that I should sit on the bed to watch her disrobe seductively. I enjoyed the view, enough to make it slightly uncomfortable to lie down, face down, as she then instructed. Her fingers lightly stroked my back, then more vigorously. Soon she was putting some force into it, and I could feel my back unknotting. She told me to roll over. I did, and rolled to the other side of the bed in the process. "Come back here, silly." "Won't. You come here." She pretended to sulk, She wagged her finger at me and pointed at her side of the bed. I refused, and she picked a slipper up off the floor and made as if to spank me with it, but neither of us could keep our faces straight, and she collapsed onto the bed. I pulled her towards me and we hugged. We kissed and hugged and fell asleep. I awoke twice through the night. The first time it was because I was cold, and I just emerged from my doze enough to pull the duvet over us. The second time was, as happens as you get older, and especially after drinking, to go for a pee. I thought that I had moved quietly, but on getting back into bed I felt that Sally was awake. Sure enough, a few minutes later she slipped out from under the duvet for a couple of minutes. I heard her go to the bathroom and to then pad downstairs. I heard a ceramic clink, and the water flowing. Then she returned. "Thirsty?" I murmured. Her reply was to snuggle up to me and kiss me. Her hand once again started to massage me, gently and erotically. Gradually I became aroused again. She gently pushed me over on to my back. Then she stopped, and I heard her scrabbling for something at the bedside. Next moment she was expertly slipping a condom onto me. "Bob. Please can I make love with you?" My kiss was her reply. She gently rolled herself on top of me, bent her legs and straddled me. "It is so long since I wanted to do this with someone." she said as she gently pressed herself against the tip of my penis. I think she was rubbing her clitoris against me. It felt glorious, and she started panting. She moved slightly, and I could feel her slide around me. The warmth. I felt her muscles tense and relax. She leaned forwards and her breasts caressed my chest. I lifted my hands to them, supporting them and gently kneading the nipples. She just moaned. "There's no hurry. There's no hurry." I think she said. I felt that she was luxuriating in sex without a time limit. "Just enjoy yourself." I said. Pretty Please "I can, can't I." she said under her breath. She moved herself a little, seeming to change the position of me inside her. It must have been effective, because she started rocking herself, making little incoherent noises. "It's for you love. Enjoy it." "It's mine, Its's mine, Oh, shit, Oh God, Oh Fuck!" I will not guarantee that these were the exact words she used, as her movements and obvious excitement was rapidly driving me to ejaculation. I tried to think of other things to prolong my performance, passive though it was. I tried to think of anything else. Anything. Think of food. Sausages and chips. No not sausages. Sponge pudding with custard pouring over it. No not pouring, gushing. It was too late. I had come. I tensed myself and pressed myself up against her, trying to maintain her pleasure as my penis started to go past its best. "Have you come, my love. Thank god. Thank you" she squealed, and she went rigid upon me, just twitching slightly externally and less slightly inside. She collapsed on me. Kissing, hugging, murmuring. Slowly she got her breath back. Then her hand snaked between us, and she carefully held the condom on my penis while she rolled off me. "Oh, Bob, Bob, you can't know how special that was." I think that I did, although I did not say so. Exhausted as I was, I realised that it would be best not to discuss sex with my ex. at that moment. There had been more enthusiasm in Sally's single act that in the total of my previous experience. She removed the condom. Then bent down and gently kissed my penis, before one-handedly tying a knot in it (the condom, that is) and dropping it over the bedside. More hugs, kisses, and sleep. We awoke again to the sounds of traffic outside. When we had both realised that the other was awake, we just hugged and kissed again. "Any chance of some coffee?" she eventually asked. Wearing dressing-gown and shirt again we were soon sipping. We caught each other's eyes, and after a moment, we both just said "Thank you." with the result that we both giggled. "But this is not getting my bottom buggered, is it?" she smirked. "You still...? Are you sure...?" She looked sadder now. "I must. I have to." I looked into her eyes, asking for confirmation. She nodded. I thought about it. So did she. "The guide suggested we start with fingers or butt plugs, using some lubrication.". "Damn. Did we get any lube? I don't think we did." "You're right. Too much booze. Not enough thought." "What time is it?" "10-30ish" "It'll be open again soon. If we can get a bus. Hurry up, get dressed." This time we were lucky. "Sally," I quietly asked as we snuggled on the back seat again. "I really don't want to hurt you again. Do you think, if we sort of shared it." "What do you mean?" "Well I'm not gay, or anything, but," and I moved in the seat at the memory of her touch on my anus, " I was thinking that if we sort of practiced on each other. I play with your bum. You play with mine. You know, we would have a better idea of what the other one is feeling." "Darling man," she kissed the end of my nose. I was glad that there was a different assistant in the shop. The guides had been insistent about not sharing toys, so we bought another set of plugs -- these were dark blue -- and the assistant helped us to a large bottle of the appropriate lubricant that was not going to rot the plugs we had chosen. We were soon home again, lucky with the buses indeed, and were back in the bedroom with the various items out of their wrappers and lined up on the bed. "Bob, before we start.?" "Yes love, what?" "Should we have some breakfast?" Was she delaying now? We agreed. But we undressed and wore gown and shirt again. While she scrambled eggs and made toast and coffee, I allowed my hand to wander over her body, hindering her. She didn't complain, and seemed to encourage my hands to be more and more adventurous. But we were hungry. We were not distracted too much. We ate and drank. This, of course, started our digestive systems working, and as we took our second cups of coffee upstairs, I realised that I had to poo. I had to wait, uncomfortably, because Sally got there first. Then we decided that having a shower might make proceedings a bit more, you know, hygienic. This was just right. Naked and soapy in the shower we explored and gently poked. Her finger not only rubbed my anus, it slipped inside. I felt it pressing against a block. It was not unpleasant, just unusual. I felt and probed her and felt the tip of my finger similarly blocked. I gently moved my finger in small circles within her, and I felt the block relax slightly. Press, push, slide, circle. It happened so gradually. I could feel her finger just inside me, but she was so distracted by my finger in her that she had stopped moving it. I stilled my finger, and hinted that she take her turn. She slowly penetrated me. It was weird but nice. Then I remembered a hint from the guide. I pressed down, as if I was trying to have a shit, and I felt myself relax, and her finger moved inward by a knuckle. "Oh Bob?" "Yes love. It feels good." "You love. Try to shit?" "What? I've just been." Then she remembered the guide as well. My finger tip could feel the unpuckering. The ring of muscle relaxed and I too felt myself inside her. I pressed again, but she flinched. "Not too fast. Let me get used to it. Your fingers are bigger that mine." We stood there in the shower, water sluicing off us. We would each push slightly backwards as we felt we were ready. Gradually fingers delved deeper. Then we could go no further. We had been relying on the soap being slippery, and it had washed off. "Shall we?" "Yes." We separated. We dried each other. We went through to the bedroom. Sally broke the seal on the bottle of thick clear liquid, and squeezed a bit onto my finger. It felt cold and wet. Slippery but not oily. I sniffed it but smelt nothing. Then she picked up the two smallest plugs. She held them behind her back and shuffled them. "Which hand?" I went to touch her right shoulder, but then changed my mind. I leaned over and kissed her right breast. He right hand emerged showing the blue plug. "You first then!" "But I might have wanted the pink one." I protested playfully. "No. Blue for boys. And from what I am looking at I would say that you were a boy." "But..." "No, you first. Get comfy. How do you want to do it?" I knelt on the bed, then leaned forwards to give her the best access. The bottle made a sclurping noise, and I felt the wet coldness dribbling between my buttocks. In a moment her finger was there to halt its progress. I felt her smear it around. There was another sclurp, and I tensed expecting the coldness, but it didn't come. "Ready love?" Then I felt the coldness as the tip of the plug touched me. I think I tensed up. "Relax again." She held the tip there for quite a few seconds. She applied a bit of pressure. For a moment I resisted, but then I felt it slide inwards. Again I felt that pressure against the blockage, but now I knew what to do. I pushed, and it slid further in. "Ooh you greedy man." "How far has it gone?" "A bit more than half. OK?" "Yes, I think so. Try a bit more." She pushed again. "OK? Doesn't it hurt?" "No. love. Not pain. Just sort of stretched. It's good though." She pressed again, but that was wrong and I flinched. She pulled at it, and it slid put. She was saying "Sorry, sorry." but at the same time I was asking her to put it back. It slid back in until it felt as before. "Go on, love, out and in again. Fuck me with it. Fuck me gently." She pulled it out. I heard her put more lube on it, and it was back where I wanted it. She did it again. It felt the same, but I heard a gasp from Sally. "It's nearly all in." Out, in, out in, hold it, then a moments push and slight discomfort and I felt my bumhole contract around the stalk of the plug. I stretched my arm round to feel. The base of the plug was there between my cheeks. The hole felt full but not stretched, but there was a glorious full feeling inside. I realised that I had been holding by breath, and was now panting. Sally thought that this might indicate distress, but no, I felt strangely great. I tried to sit up, but felt the plug try to move. I put my hand to it and held the base in place. Then I straightened. The different angle moved the pressure within me. I squirmed my knees round until I was able to lie on my side and to carefully put my feet to the floor and stand. The sensations of changing pressures soon had me panting again, but the big silly grin on my face told Sally that all was well. She came to hug me. I was still applying gentle pressure to the base to keep it in place, so her arms and mine crossed awkwardly. "Let me." One of her hands pressed on the plug. Both my arms, now free, embraced her. I hugged her. The movement shifted the plug, and it stretched its way out, and would have slid to the floor if Sally had not grasped its base. I glanced at it. I could see it had brownish streaks on it. Sally saw them too. "Come on." She took my hand and led me to the bathroom. "Get cleaned up, and its my turn." I sat on the loo and wiped myself clean of lube and a bit of poo. Sally washed the plug in the basin. There was something really touching and special about seeing her do that. If she had not done it voluntarily then it would have been degrading. As it was, it was amazingly intimate. I stepped into the shower to make sure I was properly clean. Sally dried the plug and took it back to the bedroom. When I went back through it was to see her lying on her back on the bed. The pink plug was already half poking her. One hand was holding it. The other was gently rubbing her clitoris. "Sorry Darling, my coffee was cold, and I couldn't think of anything else to do." I sat on the bed beside her. I replaced her plug hand with mine. "Is there enough lube?" "Probably not." I withdrew the plug and squeezed the bottle over it. I quickly smeared it all over, and then with my generously lubed hand started to rub round her bumhole. Her free hand was now squeezing a nipple. I pressed a finger into her bum. I felt the blockage, the tight ring, then she took a deep breath in, and I felt the ring loosen. My slippery finger was right inside her. "OK?" "Very!" I slowly withdrew my finger, then pressed it in again. I could see she liked it, so I did it again. I withdrew, and pressed two fingers a little way into her. "Wait." I froze. "A bit more." I pressed. Both finger tips were almost through the ring. "Wait." She breathed in and out deeply a couple of times. I don't think I pressed any harder, the muscle just yielded and both fingers were there past the ring. "More.. More. Give me the plug." I withdrew. I could see that her anus was not closing tightly again. I pressed the pink tip against the shiny darker skin. Almost without resistance it entered, almost as if sucked in. "Push. Push. Push." I tried to keep time with her demands. It was almost there. Another half inch to go. She was panting now. She was so much smaller than me. The plug was the same size. I was worried about doing real damage to her. "Are you all right? Does it hurt? What do you want?" "Yes. Yes. I mean no. Just push it you bastard. Don't fuck about with it" However I decided that that is exactly what I would do. I pulled it out a bit, she swore at me again. I pushed. She told me to do it again. I did. And again. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you." she panted each time I pushed. A quarter of an inch. Push "Thank you you glorious bastard." It was there, in place. She lifted her head. Her eyes were wide open. She had a look of amazement on her face. "Sally, tell me if I don't do this right" I leaned over and moved her hand away from her clitoris, and gently replaced it with my lips. I kissed the little bud, and then gently licked it. Sally's back arched. She writhed. She squealed. For my first ever attempt at oral sex the results were gratifying, to both of us. I think I must have done it right. "Do you want me to take your plug out now?" I asked. "Don't you fucking dare..." changed into "Not yet love, I'm still coming." while being punctuated by grunts and twitches. However, about two minutes later she waddled desperately off to the loo, one hand holding the plug in place. She felt that if it came out she was in danger of dramatically following through, but it had just been her body's reaction to the fullness. In the bathroom she was surprised to see the pink intruder emerge almost spotless. I took it from her and washed it, while she wiped herself and showered. Then we went back to bed. You know the script by now. Kiss kiss, hug hug, sleep, sleep. "Sally?" "Yes Bob?" "How do you feel?" "Different." "Sore?" "No. You?" "No." "But not again just yet." "Agreed." We both went quiet. "But I'm hungry." "So am I." The pub near bus stop did some food. The sort that you knew came from factory to freezer to plate, with chips on the side, but we enjoyed steak pies and pints. As we left there was the unspoken question of if she was coming back to my house. I put my arm round her and led her there. I found a half empty bottle of scotch, and we chatted as it disappeared. We chatted, went to bed, and chatted more. The alarm woke us. We were in each other's arms, and I realised that my arm had gone dead. I flexed my fingers, and awkwardly withdraw my arm and rolled out of bed. "I have to go to work. Do you want to stay here? Do you want me to bring you tea? Coffee?" "No love. I am working this afternoon, and have to do the washing before then." "Washing?" "Yes, towels and sheets. Clean ones for each punter." I could not remember seeing a washing machine in her kitchen. "How do you... Have you a machine?" "No, a laundrette." "It must cost you a fortune. Use my machine, downstairs." "Can I. But I need a dryer." "There is one. I don't use it much, but I think it still works." I left her. I gave her a spare key and left for work. I got home at about sixish. My kitchen was tidier than it had been for years. It had that warm moist clean laundry smell. On my table was a note. Dear Bob, Thank you for a lovely sexy caring weekend. Being here, on my own, I have been thinking that what I did was wrong, and that you might now be having second thoughts. I will understand if you do not want to see me again. Do not worry. I will be discrete. I will ring you tonight when I finish work and will accept whatever you tell me. I hope you do not mind. I know that you paid for them. I have taken the pink toys with me. I will pay you what I owe you when I can. Lots of love and thanks Sally p.s. I have been playing again this morning and managed the middle toy. X X X What was she telling me? Was she being straight with me? Had she just been using me? Had I been stupid. But on the face of it the letter meant just the opposite. Was she making an excuse for herself, or was she really showing me huge respect. I was confused. I wanted a drink. I had my hand on the door-handle to go to the pub, but I realised that I did not want to risk missing her phone call. I opened a tin of soup and ate it without really tasting it. I went upstairs to the loo. My bedroom door was closed. I never bothered closing it normally, so it looked odd. I opened it and went in. The room was neat and tidy. The duvet had a clean cover on. The sheet under the clean pillows was fresh. On the bedside table, next to the telephone were the three blue plugs and the lube bottle. From somewhere she had found a scrap of ribbon which she had used to wrap the middle sized plug with another sheet of paper. I pulled the ribbon and paper off, and read another note. If you do play with this. Think of me. Enjoy. I sat on the bed. I unlaced my work-boots and took them off.. I dragged off my socks and threw them towards the laundry basket. When I saw them untidily there on the floor I stood up, picked them up, and put them in it the basket. I felt dirty in my work clothes. I stripped and went through to have a shower. I picked my dressing gown off its hook. Underneath was the shirt she had worn. I wasn't sure if it was a whiff of her natural smell that came off it, or if it was just the way that my gown had been surrounding, almost protecting it, but I felt somehow very close to her. I found myself back, sitting on my bed, and I was caressing the plug that had been unwrapped. It was dry, and felt not quite right. It should be nice and slippery. I squeezed some of the lube onto its tip, and watched it dribble along its length. I rotated it to keep it flowing. Then I rubbed it with a finger to spread it evenly. Now it felt better. I closed my eyes while rubbing the plug. I imagined Sally, lying on this same bed with the tip of the pink plug just entering her. What position had she used? Would she have been on her back or front? Kneeling? I knelt on the bed to find which was best. At I pressed the blue plug to my arse I felt a warm glow grow within me. "Oh Sally, that's good." I pressed it in quite hard. Too hard. It hurt me. This is what it must have been like for her in the shower. I felt guilty again for having caused her pain. I pressed it in again, but more gently. "That's better Sally. Slowly now." I was imagining her hand on the plug, not mine. "Push Sally. Push." "Wait, wait, wait, hold it there." "I love you Sally." "Fuck me with it." "In... Again... Push push push PUSH. STOP." "Oh Sally, I feel so full. Is it nearly in? Fuck it a bit." I fucked myself with the plug, but it was not sliding easily. I needed more lube. I withdrew the plug and grabbed the bottle and squeezed. I missed, the glob landed on my buttock. With my finger I sort of squeegeed the liquid towards my entrance. I felt it dribbling into me. I pushed my finger into it, again and again. I was so open. Inside it was so warm and soft, and now slippery. "Now Sally. Try again." I pushed it inwards. I fucked myself with it. Now it slid easily. "Push. Push. Hold it." I took a couple of deep breaths. I readied myself for the big push. I felt as if I was pushing out a huge great turd. I pushed. I felt myself giving way. With my hand I gently increased the pressure. "Now Sally, Now." It was in me. My ring of muscle had passed the widest part of the plug, and was now relaxed around its stem. It had felt almost too much, but only almost. "Sally. Sally. I love you Sally." I rolled onto my side, and straightened my legs. This made my buttocks press against the plug's base, changing the feelings. I rolled onto my back. "Oh, Sally, that's so nice." I imagined that the hand caressing my penis was hers. What time would she ring? Could I wait with it inside me until she did? I could talk to her and tell her I love her. I was a little out of breath. I forced myself to relax. I found that my anus gave involuntarry twitches, and that when this happened I got a twinge of pleasure deep within my groin. I tried to encourage and emulate the twitch. I had been sweating, now I felt a little chilled. I slid under the duvet. The telephone woke me. I tried to sit up quickly, but the plug made it presence felt a bit uncomfortably. I should not have fallen asleep with it in place. My bum was telling me that it wanted it out, as soon as possible. I carefully manoeuvred myself so that I was sitting on the edge of the bed, and picked the phone up. "Hello?" "Oh thank you, Bob. I thought that you had decided not to answer it." Pretty Please "Sally, it's you. I love you Sally." "Bob, are you all right? You sound a bit odd. Are you OK." "Oh yes, Sally, I'm very OK. I'm just a bit... a bit... occupied." "Occupied? What are you doing." Then it dawned upon her. "Bob," she laughed, "Do you mean that you are, um... fundamentally occupied." I grunted. "Are you playing with your little blue boy's toy?" "Yes love. It's in me now. I was thinking of you." "Oh darling, do you want me? Do you want me there. Please can I come and see." "Yes Sally yes. Come quickly. Let yourself in, I don't think I could make it to the door at the moment." I heard a peal of delightful laughter as she put her phone down. Sitting on the bed was not helping. I gingerly lay down again, and waited. It cannot have been more than two or three minutes, but it seemed a lot longer before I heard the door open and close. She tapped on the wall beside the bedroom door. "Are you decent? Can I come in." We both laughed. I had to press on the plug to stop it slipping out. "Which one is it, love." "The same as you, the middle one." "Good?" "Oh, yes, but..." "Yes, you look a bit strained. Let me help." She leaned over me and placed a hand between my legs and felt the base of the plug in its place. She tapped lightly on it, and then stroked my penis as it stirred. "Stop it, please. Its too much. I'll mess up your clean sheets if you don't." She helped me to stand, and I shuffled across to the bathroom, half leaning on her shoulder. Very carefully, still holding the base in place I lowered myself towards the seat. Before I touched it, it happened. The plug slid itself out, and I just managed to catch it. I had felt as if I had been going to fill the toilet with crap, but nothing followed the plug. Well I say nothing, a few seconds after its exit we both heard a long, soft, wet, whistling fart. "I don't think you really deserve a kiss after that." I put on a glum look, then we both laughed as she changed her mind and kissed my nose. I liked her doing that. For a sad moment I wondered if she kissed her customers like that. "Bob, I've come straight from work. I feel dirty. May I?" I sat on the loo, watching her strip herself and step into the shower. I recovered my composure. She was just standing under the water, her face to the wall. I washed the plug. Then I stepped into the shower behind her. She turned herself to me and buried her face into my chest. I put my hand under her chin to lift it so that I could kiss her. I could see that she had been crying. "I'm sorry Bob. I was so afraid that you would hate me." I just hugged her, then picked up the soap and started smoothing her back. "Thank you, Bob. Thank you." We soaped and rubbed and explored and enjoyed it. We dried each other. She left the bathroom, and returned wearing the shirt again, she gave me the dressing gown. She led the way downstairs. There was a bag on my kitchen table. "Do you eat Indian?" "Love it." "Good." She drew some plastic boxes covered in frost and a bag of rice from the bag, and started clattering pans and beeping the microwave. "Sally." I asked hesitantly, "There is a spare room upstairs. I was thinking..." She paused. "Would I have to sleep in the spare room?" "Of course not." We looked at each other. We said nothing, but we agreed. "Can I use the phone?" She picked it up and dialed.. "Hello Pat, It's me, Sally." ... "Is she there?" ... "OK, it will have to wait." She put the phone down and resumed her cookery. She was measuring out some rice when the phone rang. I picked it up. "Mrs Smith here." I heard, "Is Sally there?" "It's for you." I mouthed. "Mrs Smith!" She put her hand out for the phone. "Yes Mrs Smith, I rang." ... "Mrs Smith, I've had a bit of good luck. I don't need to..." She broke off. I could hear the shouting from the other side of the room. "No he is not my pimp." ... "No, he is not. He's a good friend." ... "I am not stealing them Mrs Smith. I will return them. I will even wash them for you." I could hear more shouting. Then it went quiet and Sally put the phone back onto its charger. "Well Bob. Is seems as if I no longer have a job, but on the other hand, Mrs Smith never wants to see my face again, so we have a good supply of second hand towels and sheets." "Does this mean that you don't need me to fuck your bottom?" "Not exactly." She turned off the cooker rings, stopped the microwave. "Can you wait for your meal?" She didn't wait for a reply. She just led me upstairs, my hand in hers. Her other hand was clutching a pink butt plug.