Cleaned 19

By timos111@hotmail.com

They got in the door to be greeted by a dense blast of 
thudding, furious sound. The apartment was in darkness 
apart from the flickering glow of the TV screen, tuned 
to 
a cable music channel.  Brad was stretched out on the 
big 
sofa.

Janelle was not at all impressed to see him back so 
early.  The boy was supposed to be out jamming with 
his music buddies, partying and fucking his brains 
out.

So then the coast would be clear for her to fuck hers 
out.

“Hi Brad” said Doug, in an “uncle” sort of a way. 
“You’re home early.  What’s up?”

“Got busted.”

“What?”

“Narcs.  They had us all up against the wall.”

“You had stuff on you?”

Brad gave a “do-you-think-I’m-stupid?” look, then 
switched his gaze back to the telly.  He was clearly 
in a foul mood.

Janelle took over.

“They book you for anything?”

“Nah.  Only those who were carrying.”

“So what happened?”  

She was softening a little toward him, having had her 
own occasional brushes with the law for substance 
abuse.

“They sealed the exits.  We all got searched. Then I 
got told to go home and stay there.”

“So why so morose?”

“They broke my guitar.”

Their attention turned to his battle-scarred 
Stratocaster, leaned up in the corner of the room.  
Its headstock was bent over at an impossible angle, 
like a broken wrist.

“Why?”  This from Doug.

“Just assholes, I guess.”

Not much more to say, really.  It was simply one of 
those things.  

Doug went to put on some coffee and rummage around in 
the fridge.

Janelle appeared swiftly beside him in the gloom, a 
feral gleam shining in her eyes.  She was twitchy, 
like a cat on a hot tin roof.  When she spoke her 
voice was low, hard-edged, and ever-so-slightly 
desperate.

“Doug, I’ve got to have you.  I won’t be denied.”

She moved in close to him, backing him up against the 
fridge, while swiftly her hands undid him and closed 
in upon his crotch.   

In the living room, the roar of fuzzed-up guitars had 
gone back up a few notches.  Brad seemed unlikely to 
budge from the sofa anytime soon.

She got Doug mostly erect with her manipulations.  
Meanwhile she nuzzled his chest with her face, with 
lips and teeth finding his nipples through the fabric 
of his shirt.  Her big breasts pushed firmly against 
his midriff.

The cock-play now got increasingly rough, making him 
grunt and almost cry out.  He started to go flaccid 
again and, sensing this, she backed off and fondled 
him back to hardness.  Then she renewed the twisting 
and contortion of his genitals.  She was causing 
discomfort bordering on pain, but was stopping short 
of real agony.  Any softening-up on his part was 
countered by a return to more conventional hand-job 
actions, which kept him erect almost against his will.  
He was enduring this, rather than enjoying it.

“Finger me.”

It was barked in a low voice, like an order.

He reached down and tried to unzip her cutoffs.

“Through my pants.  Finger me through my pants.”

Reaching down, he found it was more a case of 
fingering her AROUND her pants.  This was because much 
of her sit-sack bulged out either side of the scanty 
denim crutch-piece.  And because it didn’t seem to 
matter right now where he touched her down there, 
because she was just so goddamn fired up.

She literally convulsed at each of his touches, yet 
she wasn’t cumming.  It was like she was teasing 
herself, by keeping her pants on.  His touches, and 
his tormented reactions to her touches, were making 
her want to climb the walls.

Just then, the apartment intercom crackled into life.

“Janelle?  You home, honey?  Open up, it’s me!”

“Fuck-it!” she literally spat, springing away from 
Doug.

“What?  Who is it?”  Doug stowed his aching equipment 
back into its rightful place.

“My lovin’ aunt Nerissa, that’s who.”

“Janelle honey, it’s cold down here!” the voice 
crackled again, more insistently.

Resignedly, Janelle pressed the button to admit this 
new visitor.

Doug was going around the place switching on lights, 
and explaining to Brad that he better turn that down 
‘cos they have company arriving.

Nerissa flooded into the room, causing double-takes 
from Doug and Brad who weren’t prepared for the 
impressive size and vivid colours of Janelle’s aunt in 
full regalia.

“Janelle honey!  How ya bin?”

Janelle accepted the bone-crushing hug and sloppy 
kiss, then broke free.

“How the fuck did you find me?”

“Janelle!  It’s like ya not glad to see me!”

“Just answer the question!”

“I got worried, you being so secretive and all.  I 
hadda do some detective work.”

“You had me tailed?”

“Nah!  Just checked through some of your things at 
home.  I found a business card, and one of its phone 
numbers I got traced to this apartment.  ”

“You went through my stuff!”

“I was worried, hon!  You won’t say nuthin’ to me 
about your new man.  For all I know, he’s mixed up 
with the Mob!”

“So you come charging in like the cavalry!  How do you 
know he won’t get you whacked?”

Janelle indicated Doug as she said this, hoping he 
might be looking at least a little bit fierce.

But the highly bemused expressions on both men’s faces 
instantly told Nerissa she had nothing whatsoever to 
worry about.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced” she said, 
offering a hand to Doug.  “I’m Nerissa.”

“So I gather.  I’m Doug, and this is my nephew Brad.”

Nerissa threw a covetous glance at the handsome but 
bashful boy, then sat down to occupy a goodly portion 
of sofa with her generous brown bulges.

“Say, nice place!  No wonder you hardly come home any 
more, Janelle.”

Janelle rolled her eyes upwards, and wondered how long 
her giant of an aunt would drag this out for.

“What kinda business you in, Mister?”

“I’m a financial analyst.  Corporate mergers, mostly.”

“One of them raiders?  An asset-stripper?”

“We try to look for more positive outcomes than that.”

Nerissa nodded, as if satisfied with his answer.  She 
turned to Brad.

“And you, honey?” she asked sweetly.

“I play guitar.”

Auntie N lit up like a lighthouse.

“You in the music business?”

“Sorta.  Well, trying.”

“Music’s something I can talk about.  What style are 
you into?”

“I started on thrash, and speed metal, but I moved on.  
Me and some guys are working on a crossover of ideas 
at the moment.”

“Are you good?”

“Yeah.  We are.”

“Hmmmm.  I should come and have a listen.  If you’re 
good, then I should get you connected.”

“Connected?”

“Put you in touch with some people I know.”

“You know the music business here?”

“Why sure.  I got connections go right to the top.”

Janelle knew this to be a fact.  Nerissa had, in an 
illustrious sexual career, bedded a veritable who’s 
who of industry luminaries.  She had such style and 
presence that even becoming massively overweight had 
not greatly diminished her super-groupie status.  Her 
acquisition of a husband had done far more to slow her 
down for a time, but she was rid of him now.

Brad was quiet yet attentive, too shy to ask the 
obvious question.  So she answered it for him.

“I’ll come and check you out.  When ya playing next?”

Brad gave her the info.

“You got a demo?”

“Not yet.  Don’t have the bucks for a decent studio.”

“I can help you there.  It’ll cost ya, but not so 
much.”

Brad nodded appreciatively.  Meanwhile Janelle was 
getting increasingly fidgety, almost vibrating with 
agitation.

“You okay, honey?  You don’t look so well.”

“I … uh … just kinda tired, that’s all.”

“Well, ex-CUSE me for keeping you awake!”

But Nerissa took the hint and stood to leave.

“Nice to know you doin’ okay, honey.  I set my mind at 
ease.”

Then to Doug, “You look after this girl, ya hear?  Or 
else I’ll give ya a smack in the mouth!”

Doug assured her he’d remain the epitome of courtesy 
and respect.  Worldly-wise Nerissa seemed to know an 
awful lot but he couldn’t help feeling that, as far as 
Janelle was concerned, she didn’t know the half of it.  
The baby of the family can never do any wrong, it 
seems.

With Nerissa gone at last, the two of them turned and 
regarded Brad.  The TV volume was back up and he 
showed every indication of spending the whole night 
blobbed out to the walls of sound emanating from its 
speakers.

“Bedroom” Janelle hissed at Doug.  “Now.”

Inside with the door firmly shut, she bade him strip 
naked.  She took a lot of time and care to truss his 
wrists behind his back, and his ankles together, using 
a lot of soft, pliable rope.

Then she pushed at him so that he lost what little 
balance he had and toppled onto the bed.  Face-down, 
he felt himself seized and his legs bent back from the 
knees to be linked by a short length of rope to his 
wrists.  This left him pretty immobile.  He lay there, 
comfortable for now but wondering how long it would 
last.

Janelle gazed down at him for a time, drinking in the 
look of concern now playing across his features.  She 
cupped her boobs, and began tugging and twisting her 
nipples through her bra, obviously exulting at his 
helpless and pitiful state.

Then she quickly shucked off all her own clothes, and 
stood there completely naked.

This so captivated him that he almost forgot his 
present circumstances.  Fuck, she was gorgeous.  Brown 
tits big, pointy and proud.  Nipples unusually large 
and soft-looking tonight – a condition linked to her 
time of the month, he supposed.  Hourglass waist and 
flared hips, high rounded bum that stuck out back like 
a shelf.  Dark frizzy twat, that she was now idly 
sliding one finger through.

The sight of her was making him hard and she knew it, 
that’s why she was lingering so long before him.

Then she bent down to her bag of tricks, tits wobbling 
and swaying as she did so, and came up with something 
he hadn’t seen her with before.  A bright orange 
rubber ball, with thick elastic and a clear hose 
coming out of it.  

“Open your mouth.”

He did, and she popped the ball firmly inside with the 
elastic going back over his head.  It fit his mouth 
pretty snugly, and made him incapable of speech.  He 
tried to say “What-the-heck!”  but it came out more 
like “Gnnnnrrrggghhhh!”

“It inflates”.

She demonstrated by squeezing a few times on a rubber 
bulb at the other end of the hose.  Doug felt the ball 
swell and get bigger in his mouth.

“But only if you’re naughty.”

She left the ball inflated for a time.  It distended 
his jaw downwards, and this soon made his whole face 
ache.  Having made her point, she somehow contrived to 
have the ball deflate again.

“Tonight you get lucky.”

She paused for effect.

“You get to fuck me.”

Trussed-up like this?  Wonderful.

She lay down beside him on the bed and snuggled up a 
little, her arm over his chest.  Her warm smooth skin 
felt good against his.  Gentle fingertips stimulated 
his nipple.

“But there’s a time limit.  You gotta make me cum by 
humping me.  And for each minute that passes before 
you do, I give this another squeeze.”

Oh shit.

“I’ll get you good and hard first.  Give you a head 
start.”

She chuckled.

“Geddit?  Give you a HEAD start.  Give you head!  Oh, 
never mind …”

She slithered down and next thing he knew, his cock 
was in heaven.  God, she was good at fellatio!  So 
good, she had him trembling all over.  If only she’d 
do that more often!  He hated to see such talent 
squandered by infrequent use.

But as with most of the things she did for him in the 
bedroom, this was simply a means to an end.  Her own 
ends, naturally.

Satisfied she’d got him as hard as rock, she moved up 
the bed again and laid back against the pillows with 
her legs spread apart.  He found himself looking right 
up her thighs at her slightly gaping vagina, a gash of 
glistening pink amongst crisp dark foliage.

“Fuck me!” she invited him wryly.  “Come on lover-boy, 
give it your best shot!”

She had the rubber bulb tucked into the palm of one 
hand.  He decided he’d better get moving.

But movement was difficult.  With his extremities 
incapacitated, there were only two regions of his 
anatomy that offered any kind of a purchase on the 
bedding.  One was his knees.  The other was his chin.

Like a drunken inchworm, he made excruciatingly slow 
progress to come up alongside her.  She waited 
expectantly, one hand idly tugging a fat nipple, 
watching his progress with keen interest and a faint 
smile.  She was enjoying his struggle.

But how to mount her?  He’d have to get over her 
crossways first.  He remembered vaguely from his high 
school science classes that this was how shrimp did 
it.  The thought nearly made him laugh.

With an effort he twisted and half-rolled so that his 
upper torso was across her.  He heard her go “Oooof!” 
as his weight bore upon her, and instantly felt the 
rubber ball in his mouth swell slightly.  The clock 
was now ticking.

With another twist, he managed to get the rest of him 
settled between her parted thighs and assume a 
missionary position.  Kinda.  Sorta.  There was still 
the small detail that his lower legs were bent back 
with ankles lashed to his wrists.  They were starting 
to ache from the lack of movement.

More importantly, his cock had already wilted to 
something less than a half-fat.  He better start doing 
something sexy or he’d be in big trouble.

Fortunately his opportunities to get his genitals 
firmly up against hers were relatively infrequent, 
which made it a source of great excitement anytime he 
did.  Twitching and grinding his hips against her, his 
cock managed to get wedged in the vicinity of her 
cleft and he was able to dry-hump himself back to a 
fairly respectable cock-stand.

The ball in his mouth swelled by another increment.  
He better get his dick inside her, and do the 
business.  His biggest fear was that he’d cum before 
she did.

It took some maneuvering, and he had to virtually bite 
onto the mattress for dear life to stay in place.  She 
was wet and open, and he met no resistance once his 
cockhead was lined up right.  He wriggled his body 
further up along her, pumped his hips a few times, and 
then he was in. Ah, sweet Jesus!  That felt good!

It felt good to her, too.  She was never averse to the 
idea of having a cock inside her, as long as it was 
done on her terms.  She felt nice and filled.  Very 
satisfying.  Having borne witness to the struggle he’d 
undergone to get it in made it all the sweeter. 

But she felt he was taking far too long about getting 
his breath back.  She gave the bulb another squeeze.

He knew from her earlier demonstration that it’d take 
about six or eight squirts of that thing before he’d 
hit the discomfort zone.  He began to hump her 
tentatively, feeling good feelings as he did so but 
finding it very hard work.  He had nothing to brace 
himself against.  Like running on soft sand, it took a 
lot of extra effort. His skyward-pointing feet made 
him unstable in terms of balance, and he had to 
constantly fight to prevent himself rolling off her.

Another squeeze on the bulb and she could see the 
sweat really breaking out on his brow now, plus that 
look of deep concern came over him again as he 
knuckled down to his task. 

All this exertion, and the obvious signs of 
approaching panic as he realised he might not be able 
to beat the ball, suddenly caused her a slight pang of 
guilt.  She felt almost sorry for him that her 
heightened pleasure demanded he be put through this 
kind of rigmarole.

A bit sorry, but not very.  Because truth be told she 
was loving it, and getting very turned on by it.  He 
was worried, he was desperate, he was racing against 
the clock - and he was doing it all for her.  

Willingly putting up with this kind of shit in order 
to please her.

So romantic.

Another squeeze, and his jaw really was starting to 
hurt.  His bent knees already hurt.  The only good 
thing was that such discomfort kept him from cumming, 
which normally would have happened in very short order  
once he got his cock buried in her velvety insides.  
Brow furrowed in concentration, he did his level best 
to focus his humping and bumping where he thought her 
clit might be.  Trying to hit her spot, yet avoid 
triggering his own orgasm.  She’d be sorely displeased 
if that happened!

Something must be working out right, because he could 
detect an increase in her own level of concentration.  
Her breathing had intensified and fallen in step with 
his humping, providing a counter-rhythm of sharp 
exhalations.

He picked up the pace, and started to move more 
frantically.  To Janelle it appeared he was having an 
epileptic fit on top of her, and at one point he 
nearly lost his balance, coming dangerously close to 
slipping out and rolling off.  She judiciously 
steadied him with her thighs.  Her fat breasts jiggled 
and quaked in response to his short, rapid-fire 
movements.  He regretted that his hands were tied, 
because some stimulation of those berry-like dark 
nipples would be sure to send her over the edge.

“Yes!” she exhorted, “Bang it!  Right there!  Bang me 
hard!”

This was exactly the morale-booster he needed to re-
double his efforts.

“Fuck me!  Harder!  Really bang it!”

It was not only positive-reinforcement being applied 
however - she followed this up with another squeeze on 
the rubber bulb.  His face was really hurting now, but 
she couldn’t be far away, surely?

And sure enough, she started working her own hips.  
Not to coordinate with his own jerky spastic movements 
but rather to follow a rhythm of her own, the rhythm 
of her inside contractions as her orgasm took hold.  
She rolled her head first to one side, then the other, 
with her eyes squeezed tight shut, and made a noise 
like “Nnnnnggghhhh!”  Her hands clawed into his 
buttocks to try and increase his pressure against her 
crotch.

Finally it got too much for her, and she narrowed her 
thighs to back him away until his prick was out of her 
again.  He rolled off onto the mattress beside her and 
lay there in a foetal position, his breath coming in 
rapid snorts through his nose like a horse after a 
good gallop.  He was trembling as if in shock, and as 
the adrenaline slipped away he began to really feel 
pain in his jaw and knees.

Understanding his predicament, wordlessly she worked 
on him to swiftly undo all her knots and remove the 
rubber ball from his mouth.  He stretched everything 
several times to get his circulation going, and  
rubbed the backs of his knees ruefully.

She curled up against him like a kitten, face on his 
shoulder, while he lay back and gazed up at the 
ceiling.  They said nothing for a good long while.  
She just made little stroking movements with her hand 
where it lay across his broad hairy chest.  He found 
it soothing and restoring.  Almost like an unspoken 
apology.

Finally she found some words.

“Are you okay, hon?”

“I’ll live,” he answered gruffly.

“How’s your face?”

“Sore.”

“Are you mad with me?”

He left a lengthy pause before answering. But on 
catching sight of how anxious his silence was making 
her, he then hastened to say “No, not at all.”

She glanced down his torso.

“You’ve still got a hard-on.”

“Yeah, well, it’s just had a fresh reminder of what 
your twat feels like.”

“And what DOES my twat feel like?”

“Nice. Really, really nice” he said in a wistful tone.

She considered this thoughtfully.  

“I’m still too sensitive down there to let you have 
another go at me.”

Then she suddenly reared up and turned her face toward 
his groin.  

Slurp!  His cock was again enveloped in hotness and  
wetness, a sweetly pumping friction, as she firmly and 
energetically blew him.  He gazed in awe at her cute 
dark face, her full lips pouted around the pale pole 
of his cock, her cheeks alternately hollowed-in then 
distended by reciprocal strokes on his knob.  He 
reached out and cupped a dangling boob in one hand, 
enjoying its weight and warmth.  Her head dipped and 
bobbed, she switched angles around, then she reached 
out to flick his nipple with a fingernail, and  … well 
… that really did it.  That put him over the edge. 

“Ah!  Aaah! Aaaaaaah!”  He was gasping like some porn-
video stud, and next his semen could be seen leaking 
from the corners of her mouth.

Janelle continued sucking for what seemed to her a 
decent interval, then sat up.  She looked at him with 
mouth agape, and he could see whiteness within.

He knew what was coming next, and braced for it.

Sure enough, she kissed him.  

Full on the lips.  Wetly and sloppily.  Her tongue 
forced entry, prying his lips apart, making it damn 
clear she stood for equal-opportunity on matters like 
taking someone’s cum in her mouth.

With that little package returned to sender, she 
cuddled up to him again.

“Thanks” he said simply.

“Least I could do.  You did real good tonight.”

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

“I know you need this kind of drama like you need a 
hole in the head, but it always works such wonders for 
me.”

“You pushed me to the utter limit this time.  I was 
nearly ready to say, fuck our agreement!”

“But you hung in there?”

“I could tell it was making you go loopy-de-loop. I 
hate to see a good orgasm cut short.”

“How was yours?”

“Marvellous.  That load had been building for days, 
there was a real head of steam there.”

“Yes, there’s method in my madness of not letting you 
cum too often.”

“I wish I coulda cum inside you.  After you’d cum 
already, of course!”

“Mmmm, maybe next time.” 

She yawned.  This was true to form.  Now she’d finally 
got her rocks off, she was ready to sleep.

Before finally drifting off, her mind dwelt briefly 
upon the peculiar mix of emotions Doug had triggered 
in her mind as he flailed away on top of her in a 
state of borderline panic. 

Fuck, it’d got her horny.  It definitely got her 
horny.

So what was with that “guilt” thing?

She’d never felt guilt before.  

Being able to give full vent to her sexual preferences 
was something she’d come to regard as her right.  If 
any man of hers wasn’t comfortable with it then she’d 
tell him straight - either quit yer snivellin’ or hit 
the road.

But now … guilt?

Weird.