Finding Out About Mr M

by Matt Tims

  She went to her camera and hit the forward facing button before finding the perfect position in the mirror. She looked good—really good. Her ass was perky and toned, but she wasn’t a stick figure. There was some meat on her bones, and she didn’t neglect the rest of her body at the gym either. She made sure to cover the side of her right breast with her arm. There was nothing wrong with keeping this kid wanting more.

  She found the perfect angle with her back turned to the bathroom mirror at a slight angle, excluded her face from being captured, and took the picture.

  Something didn’t feel right.

  Do something more. How many girls have sent him a picture like this? Stand out. Be memorable.

  She switched the camera to video mode, raised it over her shoulder so it recorded her reflection in the mirror once again, and began twerking.

  This wasn’t her first time attempt to twerk. Years ago, one of the younger girls at work told her how turned on her boyfriend would get when she did it for him; so like plenty of things over the years, she ran home thinking she’d found the answer to her dead bedroom problem. Her attempts at spicing things up were meant with anything but lust, however. In fact, Tom seemed turned off by the whole ordeal when he told her to stop acting like a tramp. But she didn’t care anymore. Tonight, she was going to be a tramp. Tonight, she was going to twerk her ass in the mirror with some college stud’s name written on it. Tonight, she wanted to be bad.

  She stopped the recording and watched the video back, a big smile covering her proud face. She looked amazing. All of those hours doing squats and reverse hip raises had done wonders on her backside, and she was on top of the world as she surveyed her ass bouncing in the video. The word “Anthony” jumped around with every movement!

  This kid had gotten her to push her limits—just like Bill did back in her college days. He created a memory for her. She would never forget the time she recorded herself twerking in the mirror with a college boy’s name on her butt.

  She added the video to their text conversation and sent it.

  A minute later, her phone vibrated. “Good girl.”

  She wanted to fuck this kid’s brains out. She wanted to gag on his cock. She wanted him to record it all and show it to his buddies. She wanted them to see how naughty she was—for them to realize that they were wasting their time with those stupid college girls. They needed to see what it was like to be with a sexually deprived woman.

  Her phone buzzed again. “4033 Deer Meadow Ave. Apt 3C.”

  She went to her maps app to discover that he lived eleven minutes away. She was six hundred and sixty seconds from her fantasy. A mere four and a half miles was all that separated her from a dominant, muscular young stud who could give her exactly what she needed; but instead of getting dressed and telling Tom that she had to go to her parents’ house for a while, she powered her phone off.

  For the six thousandth consecutive night, she went to bed frustrated.

  Chapter 5 – Cleaning Service

  5:07 AM. The Following Morning.

  Jen had been staring at her bedroom ceiling for hours. It was slightly illuminated from the moonlight penetrating through the window, but she would have been up regardless of how much glow was coming in. She’d figured out the problem: she was a wimp.

  Women left marriages all the time for small things. Little fights and minor turn-offs resulted in brutal divorces on a regular basis throughout the world; yet here she was, afraid to leave her marriage despite not having been sexually satisfied in seventeen years. It wasn’t her morals. She wouldn’t have flirted with Anthony last night if it was. She was afraid of the unknown. She was terrified of having to start a new life all on her own. It scared her.

  Tom wasn’t very reliable, but at least he was there. That was better than having no one, right? And what about Ashley? Jen had been devastated by her own parents’ divorce when she was twelve-years-old, and she made a promise to herself that she would never put her child through the pain and hardship she’d gone through as a teenager.

  All she desired was to roll over and snuggle into the arms of a strong man. She longed for the hold of a guy who loved and cherished her. She needed someone who she craved emotionally, mentally, and physically; but when she peered over to her left, the spot on the bed was vacant. Tom had fallen asleep in the basement instead of coming up to bed. She couldn’t leave him. She knew that. She simply needed to accept her situation for what it was, and to stop feeling sorry for herself.

  She closed her eyes and attempted to fall asleep.

  Later That Same Day. 5:15 PM.

  She stood at the kitchen counter—chopping up celery for the soup she was making—when two strong hands roughly slammed down on the granite countertop to her sides. A body leaned in and gently pressed against her back, a pair of warm lips softly caressing her neck.

  “How was your day, sexy?”

  Her face lit up as she continued slicing vegetables on the wooden cutting board. Those arms which had been to her sides, were now making their way along her body. They started with her shoulders before moving down to her hips, and ended with a firm grab of her butt. That was the norm in her marriage. Even after twenty years, her husband couldn’t keep his hands off her ass.

  Those hands regained their place on the counter, resulting in a smile from the joyous brunette. The bulge poking against her backside made her husband’s intentions perfectly clear. It was 5:16 PM and he was ready to go—just like he always was. Day or night, summer or winter, sickness or in health: he just couldn’t get enough of her.

  She finally set the sharp knife down on the counter and spun to face her spouse. When she did, two hands grabbed her butt and propelled her body into the air. Her hubby picked her up and was now carrying her upstairs to their bedroom, making out with her the entire way.

  Dinner could wait and Ashley would understand. Their daughter was well used to her parents’ ways by this point. Mom and Dad just couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and the cute teen found it was romantic. She dreamed of marrying a man who would adore her the way her father worshipped her mom.

  Her yoga pants and panties were swiftly yanked down after she landed on the bedroom mattress. It didn’t take long before her husband had his head in his favorite spot, and she responded by grabbing a handful of his thick hair. The physical bliss palled in comparison to the powerful voice which resonated throughout the bedroom, however.

  “I heard someone’s been a bad girl.”

  She smiled as she pulled his face back into her vagina, allowing his wet tongue to flow over her throbbing clit. “I can’t help it, Daddy.”

  That world of pleasure had suddenly been ripped away from her, but it was for a good reason. Nothing did it for her like the sight of him meticulously unbuckling the belt on his dress pants. Her heart raced while she watched it slide from the loops, and hang from his masculine hand.

  “On all fours, slut.”

  She obediently obeyed his order, eagerly awaiting her husband to do what he did best. Every week there was something different: new places, unique scenarios, amazing toys, and compelling head games—but some things stayed the same. Like the way he made her feel. She was vulnerable, yet completely protected. She knew her man would take care of her, but she had no idea how far he would to push her limits, and it was that constant excitement which drove her crazy.

  The leather belt dropping around her neck was a clear sign that she was about to be taken to heaven. She braced herself. Three…two…one.

  It tightened.

  Her attempt to breathe failed miserably. That thick, fat cock stretched her tight pussy before her head was firmly snapped back by the leash around her neck. The view of her hubby’s gorgeous face hovering over her as the pounding increased in ferocity was a welcoming one. She couldn’t ask for anything better.

  A long string of spit fell from her man’s mouth, her lips wasting little time in parting to accept it. Every fluid, every body part, and every single ounce of him was a
treasure. She just wanted more; and as the hammering continued, the world around her began to darken. She was being fucked so roughly that the room began to spin. It was like watching clothes in a washing machine. Around, and around, and around they went. Everything spinning, and spinning, and spinning.

  Buzz.

  The load of laundry finished. She opened the washing machine door before piling the wet clothes into a basket, laughing to herself as she realized what had happened. She’d actually fantasized about being married to a completely different man—who fucked her properly—all from staring at a washing machine door. She was going crazy.

  She tossed the garments into the dryer and headed back upstairs, eager to check in on Ashley. Today was day one of her daughter’s weekly cleaning job at Ryan’s house. She still couldn’t get over that! Someone was paying Ashley to clean! She could barely find a passable route through her room most of the time! There were clothes, bags, and boxes scattered everywhere, but perhaps cleaning for someone else would be different. Maybe it would be good for her.

  Jen pulled out her phone and texted her daughter. “Everything good?”

  The unmistakable sound of a text message being received in the kitchen caught her attention. She curiously wandered into the room to find a green case face down on the counter. Ashley had forgotten her phone.

  You know everything’s fine. Just relax. Ashley is a grown woman who can take care of herself. Stop being overprotective.

  But she had to be overprotective. Who else would look out for Ashley if she didn’t? Certainly not Tom.

  She grabbed her daughter’s phone and slid it into her pocket, throwing on her fleece and heading out the front door. It was chilly on this early November evening—not cold—but chilly. The snowstorm prediction hadn’t been accurate, but the sun was already beginning to go down despite daylight savings not starting until tomorrow. Her footsteps journeyed across the grass and to her neighbor’s front door where she rang the bell.

  The door opened.

  “Hi, Ryan,” she greeted him.

  “Hey, Jen,” the handsome businessman responded. “Come on in.”

  She smiled as she stepped into the house and slipped off her shoes on the entryway rug. “Wow! Look at this place!”

  “Yeah, it’s coming along,” he noted, closing the door behind her. “Thanks to your daughter.”

  Jen smiled again while watching him stroll back to the kitchen table, looking spectacular as ever in his black dress pants and partially unbuttoned light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled hallway up his muscular arms. There was a cup of either coffee or tea on the oak surface next to an open newspaper.

  “Tea?” he offered.

  “No thanks, I’m good,” she declined. “Where’s Ashley? She left her phone at home.”

  Ryan shrugged his shoulders after taking a seat, raising the newspaper to his face to resume his reading. “She’s around here somewhere.”

  She shot him a curious glance before heading into the hallway, noting the layout of the impressive house as she went. The paintings on the walls screamed of class. The beautiful oak table in the passageway reflected a man with phenomenal taste. Nothing looked overly expensive, but the scene was stylish. Tasteful, if you will.

  She soon found herself in the living room where she was met by gorgeous leather furniture. A large television sat in the middle of a beautiful entertainment center, but the amazing setup wasn’t what had captured her attention. No, she was flabbergasted by how clean everything appeared.

  Maybe Ashley was actually doing a good job. Perhaps her daughter had a knack for cleaning that she was unaware of.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  Jen turned around at the sound of her daughter’s voice; and when she did, her jaw immediately dropped.

  Ashley had strutted into the room in a french maid outfit which appeared fitted for a girl half her size. The black one-piece ended in a mini skirt—fancy white lacing running along the bottom. The outfit barely covered her butt, and showed plenty of skin above the fishnet stockings that ran up to her mid-thighs. Her black high heels cracked with each step on the hardwood floor, and the cute white and black headpiece in her brunette hair bounced with every stride. It was the exact type of outfit that she imagined wearing for her fictional husband. The only problem was this was her eighteen-year-old daughter! The top of the one-piece came left the upper-half of Ashley’s breasts exposed, for God’s sake!

  Jen still couldn’t get over what she was seeing. Ashley nonchalantly held a feather duster in her hands, which just so happened to be covered by fingerless white lace gloves. She began cleaning around the television like nothing was going on.

  “Ashley…”

  The teen stopped and turned to her mother.

  “What are you wearing?” Jen asked.

  “It’s my cleaning outfit,” Ashley answered with a proud smile.

  Jen was doing her best to control herself. “Did Ryan make you put that on?”

  Ashley quickly shook her head. “No.”

  “So, why are you wearing it?” Jen asked calmly. Her blood pressure was rising with each passing second.

  “Mr. M told me there was a cleaning outfit in his closet,” Ashley said. “He didn’t make me put it on or anything.”

  “Then why are you wearing it?” Jen repeated.

  Ashley peered off to the side, fully aware of how her mother would respond to her reasoning. “Because it makes me feel sexy…”

  “Go change,” Jen said.

  “But, Mommmmmm…” Ashley whined.

  “Go change!” Jen demanded, her tone turning cold and sharp.

  She watched her daughter storm to the stairs and angerly ascend the steps as her hands began to shake. She was on the verge of losing it. She took a deep breath and stomped down the hallway, back into the kitchen.

  “What the hell is that!?”

  Ryan casually glanced up from his paper.

  “Seriously?” Jen furiously asked. “Like you don’t know what I’m talking about!”

  He shot her a dismissive look before turning his attention back to the newspaper.

  “Hey, dickhead!” Jen snapped.

  He didn’t react.

  She rushed over to the table and aggressively yanked his newspaper down. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

  Ryan only stared at her.

  “Why do you have my daughter dressed like some kind of whore?” she asked.

  “I didn’t make her do anything,” he responded before bringing the paper back to eye level.

  “She’s a child,” Jen informed him.

  “No, she’s not,” he spoke, his voice calm and deep. “She’s eighteen. She’s a woman.”

  “You’re a predator,” she declared. “You’re probably thirty years older than her, you disgusting pig.”

  Ryan lightly chuckled to himself while his eyes continued to descend the newspaper column he was reading. His condescending attitude enraged her. This asshole had some nerve!

  “When my—” Jen cut herself off.

  “When my husband finds out about this,” is what she really wanted to say. Yeah, she could say it. Tom would have to freak out after hearing about this. He wasn’t passionate about too many things these days, but what father isn’t protective over his little girl? Especially when they were dressed the way Ashley was!

  “When my husband finds out about this, he’s going to lose his shit!” she said.

  Ryan’s eyes didn’t leave his paper.

  “Do you get off on this?” she continued to berate him. “Paying teenagers to clean your house while they dress like sluts? You sicken me! You wealthy assholes are all the same! Thinking you can do whatever you want as long as you pay people! Well, guess what, Ryan? My daughter isn’t for sale!”

  “You need guidance.”

  She took a step back, stunned by his choice of words. “What did you just say to me!?”

  “Guidance,” he slowly repeated. “You need it.”

  The left sid
e of her face twitched. She was fighting the urge pick up that cup of tea and smash it over this cocksucker’s head. How dare he speak to her this way!

  “I happen to be a successful woman—”

  “I’m not talking about your career,” he interrupted. “I’m talking about your personal life.”

  She was tired of talking to a newspaper. She took a few steps forward, forcibly lowering the business section down to the table while glaring at him. Her next words were cut short by the sound of footsteps growing closer in the hallway behind her. She turned to see Ashley dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie.

  “Home!” Jen demanded. “Now!”

  “I have to finish cleaning,” Ashley told her mother.

  “Now!!!” Jen shouted.

  “I’m not done yet…” Ashley whined.

  Jen turned back to the table to find Ryan retrieving his wallet from the back of his dress pants. This guy just wouldn’t stop. It was one insult after another.

  “She’s not taking your money,” she scowled at him before turning back to Ashley. “We’re leaving!”

  “But, Mom…” Ashley grunted, embarrassed by her mother’s behavior.

  She stormed over to her daughter and roughly grabbed her by the arm, leading her out the front door. This was the man she’d fantasized about? This was the guy she dreamed of having in her life? Ryan was an asshole!

  “Mom, stop! Stop!”

  It was like Jen couldn’t hear a word Ashley was saying. She was just so flabbergasted by what she’d seen. This environment was toxic, and they both needed to escape its bad energy. She continued to drag the annoyed eighteen-year-old across the grass and into their house.

  “What’s wrong with you!?” Ashley shouted.

  Jen couldn’t believe she’d just said that to her. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me!? What the fuck is wrong with you!?”