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?