She was going.

Time to touch base with her Auntie, she said.

Find out what kind of floozy she’d brought home with 
her this weekend.  Help her to chuck the guy out again 
before Sunday night came ‘round.  If necessary, by 
pretending to be her pain-in-the-ass daughter.  That 
usually made them leave pretty quick.

She’d showered and changed into a flouncy dress and 
four-inch pumps again.  Reaching the door, she turned 
and inclined her face upward for him to kiss.

He touched her lips softly with his, lightly pressed 
them, then withdrew a fraction.  His face continued to 
hover just a fraction from hers.  She didn’t react.

He could never quite tell how to read her.  Was this 
passivity a sign of assent?  Or simply a prelude to 
rejection – by a swift knee to his balls? 

Well, he wouldn’t find out by being a wimp.  
Cautiously as a male Black-Widow spider, he pressed 
his mouth against hers again.  Still she didn’t turn 
away, so he started covering her thick, full lips with 
lots of light kisses.

One thing began to lead to another, and next his arms 
were around her narrow waist, drawing her close to him 
until her big breasts were bumping up against his 
midriff.  He gently bit into her lower lip and tugged 
upon it.  He was getting aroused, and wasn’t sure 
quite what this was doing to her but she didn’t seem 
averse to the events that were unfolding.

With his hands he began a light sliding action up and 
down her sides, sweeping them out to the swell of her 
hips and down along her thighs.  His tongue probed her 
lips delicately, feeling them soften and part a 
little.  Surreptitiously he drew her skirt gradually 
upward with his sliding hand movements until it was 
bunched at her sides and his palms were caressing 
silky bare thighs.

Her hands snaked up around his neck and she clung to 
him, their bodies pressed full-length together.  He 
sucked at her mouth, trying to draw out her tongue.  
She remained passive, yet compliant.

His fingers dug into the waistband of her panties and 
he tugged them down to expose her buttocks and bush.

Enough of subtlety.  

He stepped back and tore her panties the rest of the 
way down.  His own trousers and briefs followed in 
double-quick time.  Her arms went around his neck 
again as he backed her up against the apartment door.  
He used his knees to part her own while grabbing a 
handful of each butt cheek, and next he pulled her up 
onto him.  

Lucky for him she was relatively small and light, 
though it wasn’t easy getting her up high enough to 
enter her.  But she wrapped her legs around his hips 
and he pressed her back to the door as the point of 
his prick found her channel and she sank down on it.  
Her insides were slick and melting, which gave him a 
lot of sensation.  Ooooh, fuck!

Things happened rather quickly after that.  It had to, 
if he was to bring it all to a successful conclusion 
before the strength in his arms gave out.  She bore 
part of her weight by hanging on to his neck, and by 
pressing her firmly up against the door he managed to 
ease the strain some more.  Still, her arse kept 
slipping down between his hands and he continually had 
to juggle about to adjust his grip.

Felt good to his cock, though.  It was pistoning away 
nicely, and with her entire weight bearing down upon 
it he was really able to drive in to the hilt.  The 
door was getting banged and thumped by her backside, 
and anyone passing by would have wondered what the 
heck was going on.

Mercifully his balls began their preliminary tickle, 
and he found a second wind to hold her even tighter as 
his hips jerked in involuntary spasms.  He shot his 
load deep up inside her.  Sweaty and panting, he 
slipped out and released her bit by bit until she 
again had one foot back on the ground, the other bent 
outward on tippy-toe like a ballerina.

He buried his face in the side of her neck while he 
got his breath back.

“Didja have fun, sailor?”

“Whew! Yeah.  Sorta.”

She pushed him back up straight so she could rest her 
head on his chest, holding him in a tender and caring 
clinch.

“Whaddya mean, sorta?  I just let you fuck me, didn’t 
I?”

“Yes, most appreciated.  And most unexpected, I must 
say.”

“I’d a mind to see how far you’d go, given half a 
chance.”

“Well, I’m a man.  What’d you expect?”

“So what’s with the “sorta”?”

“I … I get the impression this won’t be ranking as one 
of your all-time hottest fucks.”

“Of course not.  Far as I’m concerned, it was just a 
vanilla quickie.  But wasn’t it good for you?”

“I saw, I conquered, I came.  But I don’t feel quite 
right, knowing your heart wasn’t in it.”

“So what do you feel?”

“Like I just imposed upon you.  Disappointed you, 
even.”

She looked into his face, and paused to fondly brush 
his hair back from his forehead.  A smile flickered 
across her lips.

“Don’t torture yourself, Fernando - that’s my job!”

“Seriously, Morticia …”

“It was just one fuck.  There’ll be others.”

“Still, it seems to me, our sex is far hotter when we 
do it your way.”

“Now there’s a statement of the fuckin’ obvious!”

“I want to please you.”

“Good.  I respect you for that.  Now will you excuse 
me while I put my panties back on, before I start 
dripping all over your carpet?”

That done, and a final tongue-twisting kiss, and this 
time she was truly out the door.

“I’ll call you in a few days” were her last words as 
the door closed behind her.

He stared at the door for almost a full minute while 
it dawned on him that she could call him, but he still 
didn’t know how to contact her.

He mooned around aimlessly for the rest of that day.  
Watched some football on TV for a while, but couldn’t 
really concentrate on the game.  

At one point the phone rang.  It was his brother.  
Seemed that he wanted eldest son Brad to come and stay 
with Doug for a couple of weeks.  He’d finished High 
School but didn’t want to carry on to College, would 
Doug mind if the boy came to the Big City and checked 
out a few career options?  It was giving a sore head 
trying to drum some sense into him, so maybe a break 
with Doug would help sort him out.

Doug didn’t mind in the least.  His nephew had always 
struck him as an okay kid, though no Einstein.  Having 
him around for a few days might be good for both of 
them.  Though of course Janelle would have to whisk 
him away somewhere else if she got any hankering to 
tie him up or anything like that.

Deciding he needed to do something positive with the 
remainder of the day, he called up a buddy to go and 
play squash.  It was a good workout.  He needed the 
extra endorphins to boost him through this 
melancholia.

That night he wanted to call Janelle, ask her how she 
was doing.  Next time he resolved to get his hands 
free from bondage long enough to at least write down 
her phone number.

Meanwhile, Janelle was happily digging in to corn 
chips and salsa dip, channel-surfing, and trying to 
ignore Auntie Nerissa and her new beau.  In an 
apartment of this size, three was definitely a crowd.

Nerissa was still relatively young, but already a big 
momma.  Massive in all departments - buttocks, belly, 
boobs.  She had the cutest face, and she oozed 
attitude.  Never short of admirers, even before Uncle 
Vern got caught with that cocktail waitress.

Compared to some of the others, her new man wasn’t too 
offensive.  In fact he wasn’t too … anything.  
Blandness personified.  He didn't say much, just "Mmm" 
and “Unh-hunh” as motor-mouth Nerissa said enough for 
the both of them.  Janelle had a sudden wicked thought 
about bending him over and using a strap-on dildo on 
his ass, just to make him squeal a bit.  

“So when you gonna bring him ‘round here, then?” 
Nerissa asked innocently.

“Who?”  

Janelle knew damn well who.

“Your man.  The one you’re spendin’ all this time 
with.”  

She dug a pudgy elbow into the ribs of her prince 
consort.  “She got herself a new man,” she informed 
him.

“How do you even know it’s a man?” Janelle retorted.

“I know my niece.  You ain’t a lezzie.”

Janelle again tried to ignore her.  Unsuccessfully.

“C’mon!  He black or white?”

Janelle affected a yawn.

“White.”

“White!  Didja hear that?”

He hadn’t.  He was too engrossed in a Taco Belle 
commercial. 

“What does he do?”

“Works in an office somewhere.”

“A suit-&-tie boy?”

“Yeah.”

“And you have no idea what he does?”

“No.”

“Is he legit?”

“Of course!”

“But you don’t know what he does?”

“Look, Auntie N.  I’m a lot safer with him than some 
of these boys from the ‘hood.”

“Well, I’m responsible for ya.  I have to answer to 
your parents for ya.”

Auntie N? Responsible?  That was a good one!

“I don’t think my parents would give a shit.”

“Course they would!  They concerned, ya know!  You 
hurt them pretty bad, but they still concerned.”

“Okay, okay.”

“So when you gonna bring him ‘round for me to check 
him out?”

Like, duh! Never.

In fact, it would be difficult to imagine.  Unless 
Doug really pissed her off, and she wanted to subject 
him to a dinner scene like the one in the Nutty 
Professor movie, as a cruel and unusual punishment.

“Auntie N., we shouldn’t be washing our dirty family 
linen in front of … your new … whatsisname here.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about Kevin!  He’s practically 
one of the family now …”

Nerissa reached across to clutch his chin, pulling his 
face to hers in a very possessive kiss.  Things went 
quiet for a time, except for a few quiet slurping 
noises.  His mind might be mesmerized by the telly, 
but at least his tongue was still alert and paying 
attention!

“Too soon for talk about washing any linen,” Auntie N. 
said hoarsely as she broke away.  “We ain’t hardly got 
ours dirty yet.  C’mon, Kevin!”

She heaved herself to her feet, pulling him up after 
her.  As their bedroom door closed behind them, 
Janelle reached for the remote and turned the volume 
up a few more notches.  Almost time for Jerry 
Springer.  And besides, Nerissa could get pretty noisy 
when being fucked.

Mr Springer had cobbled together his usual line-up of 
losers, and soon it was all “bleep” this and “bleep” 
that.  For Jannelle some of their situations were a 
bit too close to home, yet she still found them 
horribly fascinating when they concerned someone 
else’s home.  

Her mind started wandering to Doug, her steadfast fuck 
buddy.  

She was glad she’d found him.  He was good for her.  

Being able to breeze into his life and breeze out 
again was convenient, and just what she needed.  

It sated the craving in her.  The urge that would 
otherwise just keep on building and building until 
bursting to get out.  The lust to dominate, to have a 
man suffer for her sake.  

Left unsatisfied, it could give her the demeanour of a 
snarling beast.  A most unhappy state of affairs.  

So much so, it could drive her to lose control, to 
over-step the mark.  Above all else, she liked to be 
in control.  Keep the pot simmering, but not boiling 
over.

She got to fantasizing about Doug being trussed up, 
writhing away on the floor, struggling to move.  She 
slipped her hand into her panties and began playing 
with herself.  

On the Springer Show somebody’s boyfriend was trying 
to swing wild punches at that somebody’s other 
boyfriend, but Janelle’s eyes were now glazed and 
unseeing.  In her mind’s eye, Doug was being ordered 
to mount and hump her whilst suffering the twin 
handicaps of being hog-tied and having a pillowcase 
over his head.  To make it really interesting, she’d 
added the threat that he had to make her cum within 
three minutes or else his balls were going into a 
vice.  A scenario so delicious, she really must try it 
out for real sometime!  Such desperation, such a 
struggle of servitude.  A mental image so arousing, 
that it didn’t take at all long for the gentle 
circling of her fingers to achieve their mission.   

When the tremours had subsided, she stared up at the 
dirty ceiling.  

What should her next move be?  

In life, that is.  

She had to get away from that lousy job, for one 
thing.  Of course she needed to do something to help 
cover the groceries, but hoovering carpets all day 
wasn’t living - it was barely existing.

Time to progress.  Develop herself to the next stage.

Doug could be a rock.  No, like a lighthouse on a 
rock.  A navigational mark.  A steady reference point 
for her next leap into the unknown.

That was the thought she took with her to her bed as 
she snuggled down for the night.

She slept soundly through the usual night-time 
neighbourhood din of sound-systems, sirens and 
squealing car tyres.  

Back in the lounge-room a big bowl of corn chips sat 
there getting stale, and three unfinished cans of beer 
went slowly flat.





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