by Alina Sawyer
Ages ago Bobby was a janitor at a stadium. It was the best job he could get with a prison record. An extensive prison record. The last time he went to jail he went for assault and a slew of other charges. He was mandated to take anger management courses. Bobby was a highly intelligent man, he just fell in with the wrong people during hard times all his life. He was always faced with difficult choices and never could seem to make the right ones. But when he took those classes he really understood what the councilor was saying and took it to heart. His councilor vouched for him at his parole hearings that he was one of his most successful participants. Sally never knew Bobby to lose his temper. Not once. But this rope was scaring her. At the concert Sally was with her friends.
Sally was the good girl of the three of them. She never drank more than a glass of wine. She never flirted with men at bars. She dressed conservatively. She worked as a bank teller. When the girls went to the bathroom, all together of course, they gossiped and primped and perfected themselves before stepping out into the wild scene of the audience. Bobby was waiting outside the bathroom so he could clean it. Sally stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him. Everyone told her to stay away from him, that he was dangerous, that he would never amount to anything or ever be able to give her a happy life, that you can't change a man. But Sally fell in love with him at first sight, always defended his sweetness to her, and never lost faith in him. She saw he had already changed himself. Eventually, Bobby became a prison consultant based on his experiences, turned his prison uniform into a suit and tie, and did provide that happy life for Sally. As a matter of fact, Bobby became greatly successful and Sally saw less and less of him. She was lonely. And now he'd left her hanging alone in the shed like a piece of meat when all she wanted was to run to his arms for the first time in ages.
When Bobby finally did come back to the shed to cut Sally free she had so much to tell him but didn't say a word. She just held her clothes in one hand and stood in front of him, naked, chaffed, and sweaty.
"Did you get a chance to think?" he asked.
"I did," she said.
"You must be hot. The sprinklers are on," he suggested.
"But the neighbors," Sally responded excitedly.
"We have a fence," he said.
"But what about the upstairs windows. They can all see," Sally hesitated.
"All their lights are off. I already checked. And if someone is lurking in the shadows, they deserve to see you. You look stunning." Sally ran past Bobby and into the sprinklers, brushing her hand past his midsection on the way. She was on her way to being sopping wet when Bobby came out after her. He stood on the outskirts of the sprinklers, getting a little wet on his shoes. Sally was practically taking a shower and dancing around. She caught Bobby watching her and stopped. They looked at each other from across the lawn like they looked at each other the first time they met, in the sense that they were seeing each other anew. But they were married, and they looked at each other also only the way a long term couple can look at each other, with one glance see each other's whole history, at once feel the entirety of each other's whole romance, and feel the ravenous passion brought forth from the make up after a very, very long fight.
Sally walked up to Bobby and kissed him. She passed her hand across his cock on the way to the shower and Bobby smiled. That night Sally felt overwhelmed. She slept in the fetal position from exhaustion, her back to Bobby. Bobby felt especially tender towards her, as she had succumbed so much more quickly to her suspension than he had expected her to. She had taken that time to think as he had instructed. She was pure as she was when he'd met her when she was under the sprinklers. He wondered what she had thought about in the shed. He wondered if she could believe in him as passionately and naively as she had when they'd met. He wondered if passion and naivety is what it would take these days. He felt a pull towards her curled up body. She was sleeping soundly. He smelled her freshly washed hair. He pressed his chest to her back, his groin to her ass, his legs to her legs. She briefly awoke to feel his body up against hers, his chest hairs on her back, the tops of his feet on the bottoms of hers, his chin resting on her shoulder. She arched herself lazily and fell back asleep, knowing now what she had to do.
The next day when she awoke she found herself alone in bed, Bobby already gone to work as usual. She primped and primed herself as best as she knew how, in a way that she though this new Bobby would like. She checked the balance on her debit card. There was enough. She went to the mall, to a silly place that does boudoir photographs and got her picture taken in a provocative costume and pose. When Bobby came home the house was spotless, dinner was on the table, wine in the glasses, Sally in her highest of heels. Bobby had a brown paper bag which he immediately put in the freezer and another which he placed on the counter. She presented him with an envelope containing the photograph and a letter. It read:
I'm sorry but I'm not a good writer but I feel like I have to write you a letter. I see how hard you work. I want to work too. But I need to go to school. I don't have such life experiences like you. I remember the time when we met. I was working at the bank. You were working at the stadium. I saw you and I knew. I didn't care about anything. About what people said. I just knew you were good. Everyone said you were bad for me. You were wrong. But I knew you were good. And look what you have done for me. Look. Our life is beautiful. I want to give to that life too. But I need your help. I want to go to school. I want to be a better writer. There is something in me. Something I can't explain. Even though I can't write good now, I know it is what I was meant to do. Have faith in me, Bobby, like I had faith in you once. I will make you proud.
He responded, "Sweetheart, I wholeheartedly agree with you. You should become more independent. You should learn to voice your opinion. But not on my dime. You should earn the money for this schooling on your own. I will help you find a job. I do believe in you Babydoll. You can do it, and you will. Let's start today. I will help you put together a resume. You have a brilliant mind for fashion. How about a temp career in that field?"
"Okay. Okay. You're right. I think I can do this. I want to be self made like you. In the shed I remembered how we met. I remembered how we used to be. You made someone of yourself and I didn't. Now it's my turn. I'll do anything you say," she said.
"Anything?" he asked. She looked at him expectantly, peering up. He offered her his hand and she took it. They walked over to the dining room table, steps in synch and ate dinner together in silence, smiling at each other, enjoying the food, in total understanding of each other. Bobby occasionally smiled at Sally. Sally smiled back. Bobby finished eating before Sally and he watched her prolong completing her meal, savoring the feeling of being watched by Bobby. His eyes rested upon her delicate hands cutting the steak for a moment. He freely glanced beneath the table at her crossed legs emerging from a crinoline fluffed dress. Her ankle rotated her foot flirtatiously, slowly, as if to say, "I know you're looking at me. Go ahead. Look." Bobby looked at the way she chewed that rare meat, a vein pulsing in her neck with every chew of her well defined jaw. There were so many new things to fall in love with, it seemed. And there were the old things. The way her eyes smiled back at him, her tiny waist, her thick luxurious hair.
Once she finished her meal and carefully placed her fork and knife down onto her plate without making a sound, Bobby got up and walked around the table to her. She looked up at him again. He offered her his hand again and led her to a stool in the kitchen where he unpacked the brown paper bag on the counter. He had purchased fine quality roasted Hawaiian macadamia nuts and began chopping them meticulously. He pulled out two small bowls and the other brown bag from the freezer, taking gourmet vanilla ice cream from it and serving each of them two scoops and sprinkling a generous portion of macadamia nuts over them forming a salty crust. They ate with long ice cream spoons and both scraped all the nuts off immediately, savoring the sweet and salty, the melting and the crunchy textures until there was nothing but vanilla ice cream left.
"One of my clients told me about it. He was a macadamia nut distributor. Fraud." Silence. Sally smiled. It was a mischievous smile. She put a little ice cream on her spoon and flung it onto Bobby's cheek. Bobby laughed his closed mouthed laugh. "Okay. So you wanna play like that do you?"
"Yes I do," Sally replied immediately.
"Okay," he said, pausing. "Lick it off." Sally leaned forward giggling with her mouth wide open and her tongue out. She felt his rough stubble on the surface of her tongue. She tasted sweet ice cream mixing with the remnants of Bobby's familiar aftershave. She licked him once. She licked him twice. She licked him clean. She licked along his jawline, behind his ear, she took a bit of sexual freedom in biting his earlobe. Bobby ran his hand up her leg, running his fingers past the mysterious darkness of the prickly crinoline of Sally's cherry print dress and rubbed the side of her butt. He uncrossed her legs and ran his hands in between her thighs. He pinched at the last bit of soft flesh left on her firm, fit body: a small fat deposit on each inner thigh, and of course, her pussy. Her pussy was still plump and young as he had remembered it, with thick, resilient outer labia. They seemed especially inflamed now, after the ice cream incident. Bobby was certain she liked licking her ice cream off his face because he had told her to do it. He wondered what else he could tell her to do. He continued stroking her inner thighs, her outer labia, the youthful, fleshy center of her and his hands wandered inwards. He slipped his fingers up and down Sally's two perfectly adjacent running inner labia. He followed their curvatures and turns until he got to the center of her center and dipped one finger in only to discover Sally too was having a nice evening, Sally too remembered what it was like in the early days. Sally was producing a moisture deep within her and Bobby was spreading all along her insides and outsides. Sally slumped in her chair, threw her head back and messed with her wavy brown hair at the scalp.
Bobby pulled his hand out from her dress. Sally sat up and stretched her arms. "C'mon. Why don't you do the dishes while I get the bedroom ready?" he asked, standing now, hands outstretched.
"Oh, can't Jullianna just clean it up tomorrow?" asked Sally.
"I would like you to do it. You are the lady of the house for now. That is, until you find a job. I'll help you." He smiled and reached his hands further out towards her. She accepted his hands and they collected the dishes and brought them to the kitchen together. They were stacked neatly on a pile next to the sink. Sally sighed. "Wash," he whispered in her ear. She lazily picked up the first dish and started scrubbing it. Bobby ran his hands down the sides of her waist as she motioned half heartedly with the scrubber brush. He pulled her hair aside and kissed her neck. Sally started scrubbing dishes more aggressively. He ran his hands up her thighs, around her butt, and spread her ankles with his foot. He pulled all the layers of her dress up and pressed his fingers into her, stretching her, pulling her open, uncompromisingly and then shoving his cock into her. There she was, doing the dishes, dressed up, after a lovely meal. But the shock of his force caused her to stop scrubbing. He leaned into her ear and whispered, "Wash." She began washing again, meagerly at first, her hips banging into the sink counter top. But as his force harshened and pace hastened, she began washing more vigorously until she dropped a dish and it shattered into tiny ceramic pieces on the floor.
"Clean it up. On your hands and knees," he said.
"On my hands and knees?" she asked.
"You said you'd do anything," he reminded. Carefully, slowly, "Hands and knees." Sally smiled. Sally liked this game, he thought. She knelt down and crawled, lithely to the kitchen closet, all the while staring Bobby in the face. She opened the closet and took out the dustpan and hand broom and put them in her mouth. She crawled back and began sweeping up the mess, her dress still wrinkled above her waist. Bobby began slowly to lose control. He removed his jacket and threw it on the floor. He loosened his tie. He knelt above Sally's naked ass and began pumping her. Silly girl. She stopped again. He slapped her ass.
"Don't stop. Did I say you could stop?" he asked, slowly climaxing, both sexually and in his loss of control, pumping harder and harder in her. Sally never wanted to before, but he really felt like she was his tonight, so he bent down and whispered in her ear. He wanted to own her, "I want you to relax you ass. I'm going to fuck your ass tonight." Sally dropped he head to indicate she complied. Bobby stuck a finger in her ass, moving it in and out, barely, allowing it to open around his finger, and push it out when he pulled out. The he pressed further, curling his finger inwards and pulling as Sally's anus, reminding her to relax. He pulled and pulled and stretched until he could get another finger in. He moved his fingers in and out of her, spitting into her ass, pulling her open, until he finally replaced his fingers with his cock and slowly pressed his way into her tight, virgin ass.
Sally felt his head go in first. She needed to remind herself to relax. Then she felt the shaft that followed, but that enormous head always forged first. She felt Bobby grab her ass, press himself deep inside of her. When he was deepest, she felt pins and needles run across her chest. She felt her eyes roll back into her head. She felt herself exhale deeply. She felt proud of herself. Bobby began pounding himself more decisively. Sally cried out with each thrust. With each thrust there was a multitude of sensitive, erotic pleasures aroused. With each thrust there was a rectum filled with pain. It was the perfect balance. Like the sweet caress in the shed before the hours of rough rope suspension. Like the humiliation of being taken off all the bank accounts, but being treated like a princess. Sally liked the new Bobby.
The End.
How Was Your Day?
She drops her keys down on the table by the front door as she walks into the room. Another long week is over and she's mentally drained. Kicking her shoes off, she pulls her skirt up and starts peeling her hose off, promising herself they'll stay off until her alarm blares Monday morning.
Tossing her purse to the floor she staggers lazily through the living room into the kitchen. Grabbing a glass out of the cabinet she pours herself a glass of wine and takes a long savoring sip. She throws her head back, closing her eyes enjoying that first sigh of relief since she'd left her office.
He's watched her every step since she came through the door, she's lovely with her head thrown back, eyes closed. He slowly walks up behind her placing one hand over her mouth while grabbing the other with the wine to steady the glass from spilling. With his mouth next to her ear he whispers "shh... don't move." She has gone stiff, not making a sound.
He removes his hand from her mouth, now he isn't touching her at all, but she can feel the heat from his body very close behind her. He takes the glass from her hand and places it on the bar beside her. She doesn't make a move, her arm still held up from holding the glass. He traces his fingertips back up her arm and slowly caresses the skin right under her ear, down her neck. Barely touching the skin. She doesn't make a move except slowly lowering her arm to her side. He leans into her back and she can feel his arousal pushing into the small of her back, she let's out a small whimper.
Now his lips are back near her ear, she can feel his breath, it's warm and she begins to tingle. He whispers again "Lean up, on the bar." She does as she's told, moving the few inches it takes until her stomach is touching the bar. He moves too and is still barely touching her, but she can feel his hardness, she knows he wants her. He takes his hands and gently touches her shoulders, moving them down her arms and back up until his fingertips brush the sides of her breasts. He stops there, leaving his fingers touching her.
Again she tenses, her breasts are reacting, her nipples are tightening and tingling. She wants this, oh God, she needs this. His mouth moves back to her ear and gently his tongue traces the outside, his breath still warm. Lifting his arm from her side he moves her hair back from her neck, now his mouth is on her neck, she let's out a moan and throws her head back into him. He grabs her hair a
nd pushes her head back down, he continues to trace her neck with tiny little kisses. He whispers, "Do you like this?"
She doesn't answer, she simply nods her head. He releases her hair and moves his hand down to touch right above her knee, resting it there, teasing her. He rubs the muscle in her leg then slowly moves his hand up her thigh, pulling her skirt up as he does. He slowly moves his hand until he can feel the heat from her body. Using one finger he traces her panty line, again she lets out a moan, this one comes from deep inside her. She's on fire now, she needs him to touch her. He gently slides his hand into the leg of her panties and cups her pussy, feeling the heat.
She arches her back into him parting her legs, silently begging him to touch her. Using his middle finger her gently taps on her lips, never touching her clit, that is swollen and sticking out from between them. She wiggles into him, breathing heavy, sighing loudly.
Leaving his hand still he is in her ear again, "Do you like this? Is this what you want?"
"Yes ..." she moans. Her breath is hard and quick.
"Tell me what you want." he whispers.
She moans loudly and presses into him, spreading her legs open, lifting one slightly off the ground to offer him her pussy. He doesn't move.
Still in her ear he laughs softly, "Can't speak? Well, your body is speaking loudly. I think you want me to touch your pussy."
"Umm..." she moans, still pressing against him.
He quickly takes his hand away from her and moves them up to the top of her panties, grabbing the top he roughly rips the dainty lace and throws them to the floor. Now she's really panting, pressing her ass back into him. He pushes her into the bar and rubs one ass cheek with his hand while holding her bent over on her chest. He slaps her ass cheek, once gently then again a little harder.