Cleaned 18

By timos111@hotmail.com



Saturday morning.

Almost mid-morning.  All three of them had got off on 
a lazy start to their weekend.

Brad was standing at the kitchen bench pouring milk on 
some cornflakes when Janelle tip-toed up behind him.  
Reaching around, she deftly unzipped the fly of his 
scrupulously-tattered jeans and slipped her hand 
inside.  He got such a shock that he just about 
dropped the carton of milk he was holding.

"Jeez, Janelle!  Doug'll see us!"

"Relax, he's still in the bathroom."

She rummaged inside his fly for a few moments, just 
long enough to establish that he was indeed attired in 
something silky and dainty in place of his usual boxer 
shorts.  Long enough to provoke a not-inconsiderable 
boner on the poor lad.

"Hmmm.  Just checking - Big-Boy!"

She left him to do up his own fly again, because at 
that moment her mobile rang.

"Janelle?  Susan."

"Hi Sue!  How'zit goin'?"

"Can I come over today?  I got a few things to talk 
over with you."

"Sure.  Hang on a minute."

To Brad - "You goin' out today at all?"

"Yeah, in about an hour's time."

To Susan - "Come on over in about an hour's time."

Talk about making the boy feel really wanted!

True to his promise Brad duly left, clutching his 
battered Fender guitar-case.  He'd go hang out at a 
couple of practices, sniff out the good gigs, see what 
chances there were for him to impress at any loose 
jams later on that night.  Being a smart boy, he'd 
have some regular male underclothing stashed away in 
that case and as soon as he could reach a public 
convenience he'd switch from the type of girlie item 
Janelle now expected him to wear 24/7.

Susan burst into the apartment at the appointed time, 
sweeping through the doorway past Janelle after 
planting a sisterly kiss on her cheek.

"Janelle, you were so right about everything!" she 
gushed breathlessly, seating herself at the table 
while her personal strategist fixed coffee for the two 
of them.

"Yeah?  How'd it go?"

"It's working !  Slowly but surely, it's working!"

"Tell me more."

"The change ... it's measurable!  He's backed off from 
hitting on me so much.  It's like what that man 
Rumsfeld was always saying on the news - I can "engage 
in a time and place of my choosing.""

"Nice!"

"Dave hasn't actually come out and said anything about 
it yet.  He's getting a lot less sex than he used to, 
but any he does get is probably a whole lot better.  
It's certainly better for me!"

"I told ya, didn't I?  And if he hasn't mentioned 
anything at all, then obviously he's preferring 
quality to quantity." 

"D'you reckon?"

"Certainly!  Put it this way, he'd be whining by now 
if things were NOT to his liking."

"It's like he's sharpened up.  Getting back to his old 
attentive self again."

"So what did you do exactly, to bring this about?"

"Just like you said!  Act like a dead sheep if he 
comes-on to me.  But give him a good few hours of 
teasing and build-up any time I decide it's going to 
be his lucky night!"

"What kind of build-up?"

"You know, act all flirty."

Susan dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Sometimes, I ... I get downright slutty!"

Janelle's mind boggled to think what prim, straight-
laced Susan might regard as slutty.  Reveal some bare 
ankle in public?  

"Get outta here!  Details, please!"

"The best was when we were at the mall.  There was a 
dinner set I just adored, and hellishly expensive, but 
Dave keeps a tight grip on his wallet over things like 
that.  Different though if it's a new bowling ball, or 
power tool, or something like that for himself ..."

"Yeah?  Go on."

"Well, I stood there admiring it, but saying nothing, 
just looking at each piece in turn.  And he was 
getting bored, and impatient, and wanted to be outta 
there.  So I put my hand on the front of his trousers, 
and started gently squeezing his cock, right there in 
the store!"

"You never!  What then?"

"I had his full attention.  Boy, did he ever get hard!  
But apart from squeezing, I just ignored him and 
concentrated on the dinner set.  I squatted down for a 
better look at the display, and I picked up pieces 
with my free hand to look at, and I kept cupping and 
massaging his pole, and I tell ya, he was in no hurry 
to leave!"

"Could anyone have seen you?"

"They could've, but they didn't.  And then, when I 
decided I really wanted him to buy me that set, I 
stood up and got close to him.  I put my hand under my 
skirt and ... I still can't believe I did this!"

"Go on."

"I rubbed my finger in my pussy to make it stinky, 
then held it up to his nose.  I looked him straight in 
the eye and said, very quietly, "Buy me this dinner 
set, and take me home.  I want to fuck your brains 
out!"

"And did he?"

"Yep!"

"And did you?"

Susan blushed.

"You little tart!  You're really getting the hang of 
this!"

"That's not all.  While the checkout lady was wrapping 
it, I got the impulse to embarrass him a little.  I 
grabbed his hair, really possessively like I owned 
him, and yanked his mouth down to mine, and gave him 
an on-the-spot throat swab!"

"How'd he take it?"

"He wanted to fall through the floor, I could tell, 
'cos he could see the checkout lady's eyes were out 
like organ stops.  But he didn't protest, and he 
kissed me back."

"So a fun time was had by all?"

Susan sighed wistfully.

"Yeah.  And he really makes the most of his chances 
now he's only getting it once a week!"

"Once a week!  You tiger!"

"Should I make it less?"

"It's up to you.  Whatever you feel like. 
Just don't do anything you don't feel like."

"More often than once a week, he gets to be a lazy 
lover.  Less often, I feel like I'm the one that's 
missing out."

"Once a week it is, then."

"How often do you and Doug ... y'know?"

"It depends.  Sometimes nothing for two straight 
weeks, and then I hit him hard with three sessions in 
a row.  Sometimes I don't let him cum, he has to just 
queen me.  That way I get to get it more often, yet 
still keep him on his toes."

"Doesn't he complain if he can't cum, or refuse to 
make you cum unless he does?"

"He's never refused a chance to queen me.  He prefers 
that to nothing at all."

"I'd love to get Dave to that stage."

"You will.  Though you have to expect he'll threaten 
to go on strike, like you just mentioned.  If he does, 
stick to your guns.  He'll soon decide he'd rather 
give in and eat pussy than hold out on a lonely one-
man picket line!"  

"What if he starts looking for someone else, though?"

"You got to keep him looking at you.  What's better 
for you will also be better for him.  Have confidence 
in yourself.  If you believe in yourself, you'll keep 
him believing in you too."

"Do you have that confidence with Doug?"

"Oh yeah.  From Day One he couldn't take his eyes off 
my titties.  He still can't."

"I'm a bit lacking in that department."

"But you know how to get his attention, right?"

Susan giggled.

"He loves my butt, for some reason.  All I have to do 
is slip into some skimpy lingerie and bend over in 
front of him, and next thing his dork is so hard he 
could just about pole-vault over the bed with it!"

"There you go!  You ARE irresistible!"

"I guess.  Though I've never really thought of myself 
that way.  As a teenager I was a bit of a wallflower, 
certainly not the first choice to be asked on dates 
..."

“Look, us girls can spend our whole lives worrying 
about “am I ugly?” or “am I fat?” or “are my boobs big 
enough?”  But that’s not what it is with men.  That’s 
not it at all.”

“What IS it, then?”

“The bottom line is – they want our pussy.  But 
they’ll appreciate it – and us – a whole lot better if 
the way they get it is very carefully managed.  It’s 
not what you got, it’s what you do with it …”

Janelle’s voice tailed off, since at this moment Doug 
entered the room.  

"Oh, hi Susan.  I didn't even know you were here!  I 
been surfing the net and lost track of time."

He poured himself a coffee and sat down.  His entrance 
kinda killed the conversation for a while.

Janelle got things back on track.  She arose, stood 
behind Doug's chair and draped herself around his 
shoulders.  Her boobs pressed against his back, she 
teased one of his nipples with a nail while her other 
hand gripped his jaw and dragged his mouth up to hers.  
She tasted him hungrily while Sue looked on.

"Us girls been talkin' 'bout sex."

"How unusual!" he responded drily.

"It's been making me horny."

"Are you going to "take me" now, or spend the rest of 
the day tormenting me first?"

"Torment sounds good.  Especially since you promised 
to take me to the ballgame today.  We can save the 
best 'till last."

She contented herself with one further sloppy assault 
on his mouth while bunching her fingers tightly in his 
hair, then released him.  

"Sue, can you stay for lunch?"

"No, I gotta go take over the store at noon.  Besides, 
I should leave you two love birds alone together."

"That's not bothered you before!"

Susan blushed at this unsubtle reference to her own 
voyeuristic participation in two or three of Janelle 
and Doug's previous domme-sub escapades.  She got to 
her feet.

"No, really.  I better be going.  Enjoy your 
ballgame!"

"Don't worry, I will" Janelle responded with a 
meaningful look at Doug.  

And she did.

She'd dressed in denim cut-offs that showed an 
incredible amount of leg.  Her calves were stretched 
taut by platform shoes, and the lower margins of her 
buttocks curved out the back of those denims.  On top, 
a loose t-shirt in pastel pink that kept slipping down 
off one or other of her shoulders.  Thankfully she had 
a bra on, a fact any bystander could easily establish 
since much of it was visible at any one time.  A 
simple-enough ensemble, but as always she managed to 
convey the impression she was about to fall out of her 
clothes at any moment.

As they sat there in the stands clutching their half-
cold hotdogs and over-priced beer, Doug was conscious 
of a couple of guys behind them spending more time 
looking downward rather than outward at the game.  He 
soon realised they had quite a lot of dark cleavage to 
gaze into when the angle was right, especially when 
Janelle insisted on getting to her feet and jumping 
about whenever her team did anything even slightly 
remarkable.  Her bouncing boobs were eye-catching in 
the extreme, and would probably earn a good three 
seconds of zoomed-in airtime if the TV network's 
cameramen were at least halfway vigilant.

He didn't in the least begrudge these on-lookers 
sharing her delights in this way, especially when 
she'd keep hugging him, or absentmindedly rub his 
butt, or press her breasts against his arm each time 
she leaned over to say something to him.  It aroused 
him to know they were watching her every jiggle.  

He was proud to be in her company, and happy for her 
to turn on anyone who wanted to be turned on by her.  

And a little apprehensive, knowing that the need in 
her always increased the longer it was delayed.  

Wondering what it would take this time ...

After the game they made their way back to the carpark 
with the rest of the throng.  She kept one hand on his 
rear, and would give it a squeeze every so often.  But 
if he tried to reciprocate she'd firmly remove his 
hand.  Her message was clear.  His butt was hers for 
the taking, but the opposite didn't necessarily apply.

As they drove out, she reached across and unzipped his 
fly.  In the process of fishing his dick out, she 
managed to stimulate it into a mostly-erect state.  It 
stuck up like a pole and, with modern cars being so 
low to the ground these days, there were more than a 
few game patrons filing past to their vehicles who 
caught a surprised glimpse of his pink glans 
protruding from her dark little fist.  Finally he 
reached the safety of the exit ramp and could speed 
away.

"Where to, my dear?" he asked, trying to concentrate 
on his driving and ignore the gentle tugging of her 
hand upon his dick.

"Waterfront.  Lets go for a coffee somewhere."

She didn't do much with his prick, other than just 
hold it firmly in her grip for a time.  Then suddenly 
she released him.  Out of the corner of his eye he 
detected she was fussing with her shorts, and next 
thing they were way down her legs and out of the way.  
Then she grabbed on to his dick again.

It wasn't until the next set of lights that he was 
able to safely take his eyes off the road and glance 
across at her.  He saw to his considerable surprise 
that she was gently masturbating.

Just like that.  Right there in the car, in busy 
downtown traffic.

His erect prick was a prop, an accessory, an ornament 
for her viewing pleasure.  She was looking at it 
through half-closed eyes as she reclined back in the 
passenger seat, legs akimbo and free hand playing 
circular tunes on her fuzzy black twat.

Naturally he could gaze at her bare pussy for hours, 
it was a sight he'd never get sick of.  But now was 
neither the time nor the place.  In this maelstrom of 
traffic he had to stay alert, or else risk driving 
them both up a power pole.  

Concentrating as he was on other road users, he got to 
know about the double-takes.  The rubber-necking.  The 
hoots of appreciation from any adjacent vehicles high 
enough to let their occupants cop a quick look, a 
glimpse however brief of the tawny naked belly and 
thighs passing them briskly in the center lane.

It thrilled him.  

He could never imagine ex-wife Julie acting in such 
wanton fashion.  At times in his marriage he'd longed 
for something like it.  Wished she could let her guard 
down for a minute.  Flirt with someone.  Be human. 
Allow herself to be governed by her passion for a 
change.  He'd even fantasized about her taking a 
lover.  Sometimes he'd wished she would, if only it'd 
open the floodgates on her libido.

Eventually, of course, she did take a lover.  A woman 
though, not a man.  Which just goes to prove - one 
should always be careful what one wishes for.

They were proceeding along the Waterfront and he saw 
several coffee places slide past, but Janelle showed 
no inclination to be stopping right now.  She was 
really getting into it, her hand picking up the pace, 
the tugging on his prick getting increasingly violent.  
He drove aimlessly, and was not really conscious of 
having driven around the same block several times now.

She leaned across to him, hand a flurry of movement 
between her legs, and nuzzled against him. Then she 
suddenly sank her teeth into his upper arm.  Nipped 
him hard, like a horse.

"Ow!  Fuckin' hell!"

It hurt.  As his expression clearly showed.

And that seemed to set her over the edge.  

One slender dark leg, bare but for the cut-offs 
dangling about her ankle, got flung up against the 
windscreen.  The other whacked against the 
transmission tunnel.  Her hips ground against her hand 
as it fluttered in a fanning motion across her vulva.

And she cried out.  Loudly.  Unusual for her since she 
usually came silently, albeit violently.

He turned the car back toward the Waterfront's 
promenade while she came back down from whatever peaks 
she'd ascended.

Hiking up her shorts again, she said "Lets go for that 
coffee now."

By some miracle he saw a park almost immediately.  The 
tires chirped as he slammed on the anchors and swung 
in against the kerb.

They walked hand-in-hand along the wide pavement until 
they came to a place with tables and umbrellas 
outside.

They placed their order and took a seat, and by that 
time she seemed back in a mood for talking again.

"So, was that it?  The main event?" he enquired.

"Fuck no, that was just a warm-up."

"What'd I do to bring that on?"

"Don't flatter yourself, you didn't do anything.  I 
got horny from thinking about what I'm going to do to 
you later - couldn't resist a quick fiddle on the 
strength of that."

"Oh fuck," he said resignedly.

"Oh fuck is right.  I got plans for you, honey!"

So saying, she took one of his hands in both of hers 
and held it up to her lips.  Delicately she sucked one 
finger into her mouth, treating it like a little cock.  
Her big dark eyes gazed into his with a look that made 
him want to melt.

This was sweet.  

Intimate.  

Loving.  

Combined with the view she was giving him down that 
pink top of her ample boobs straining against her bra 
cups and over-topping them in quivering bulges of 
glistening brown softness, he could truly say he was 
indeed enjoying himself at this particular moment in 
time.

Then she bit down on it.

Not all that hard, mind you.  Not finger-crunchingly 
hard.  But enough to be a sudden and unpleasant 
contrast to the sexy sucking she'd been doing just 
moments before.

Composing himself again once his surprise had worn 
off, he asked "Why do you have to hurt me like that?"

"I like the look on your face.  The way you react."

"So I better not react, then?"

"You better react.  If you don't, I'll have to keep 
upping the ante until you do."

"Oh fuck."

"Just go with the flow, Dougie baby, go with the 
flow."

"This whole deal makes me so nervous all the time."

"Good.  I like that in a man."

"I don't much like pain."

"So tell me, who does?"

"I love turning you on.  But I'm not that keen on the 
pain or embarrassment that always goes with it."

"Sounds to me like you're dommed if you do, and dommed 
if you don't!

"Ha! Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha !"

Her guffaws were just subsiding as their order of 
coffee and cakes finally arrived.  He steadfastly 
maintained a "We-are-not-amused!" sort of expression 
in the interim.

"Don't look so serious!" she teased, "I've been 
waiting weeks for a chance to slip THAT line into the 
conversation."

"I'll bet.  It shows."

"Drink up.  I changed my mind about staying here long.  
I want to get you home."

He sipped his cappuchino thoughtfully, as she munched 
her way through a choc-chip muffin.

Bubbling up amongst the welter of dread and  
anticipation that churned and tingled in his guts as 
he dwelt upon the evening about to unfold, there 
floated this notion of "home".

What did she mean by that?  Did she mean "his home?"  

Or "their home"?

Or was he reading far too much into that?