"You seem to be enjoying the taste of pussy," I said."Well, it's growing on me. I certainly don't mind it," Becky responded."Just your own?" I asked."... don't know yet, sir," she replied. "I haven't tried anyone else's, have I?"When I was clean, and I had snuggled with her a little more, I sent her off to work.It was a fairly normal day at work, except for the anticipation of tonight. It would be, for the most part, Becky's show. She had asked me to act as if it was a normal night for us, and I. So I had to sit down and unlace and remove my shoes. My hands were shaking. I was under her spell. She just sat there sipping her drink and smiling, as if she was quite used to this. Finally I was standing in front of her in my jockey briefs and a t shirt. My dick was rock hard. And wet. "Down boy!" With that she slapped my dick. Hard. I doubled over in pain. "Bad boys get hard without permission." Now I was getting frightened. "Come here." I stood in front of her. She pulled me in between her. It was a mystery that had me fully awake and alert. I was on the hunt for any mistakes they had made, overlooked clues that would indicate what happened. Alas, I found it, the dead bolt on the door was unlocked. Garret never left that unlocked if I was home. Such a sweetie, but what did that mean?I went to the door and cracked it open. The cool night air brushed past me, I had found Garret. They had put lip prints all over his body and sat him there, in a chair, in front of our place, for all. He offers to pay. The waiter brings the card machine. Simpson, Mr Mike Simpson.The evening ends with much thanks for the great relief from hotel boredom. It’s started to drizzle so you reluctantly part. He wasn’t pushy, no ‘Can I have a coffee at yours’, just a sincere thank you, a formal peck and he is walking away. Was he phoning his wife? Cooing to his children?You walk toward home. Drizzle and no umbrella. Thank you!It’s a short walk and you are home. Your key goes to the lock but, try as.
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