MARRIED TO A SLUT Pt 1 By Throne
I am trapped in a horrible marriage, with a hypersexed but sadistic woman, who is a total slut in bed... but never with me. It's hard for me to believe, but now she's making me write an account of what occurred. Maybe before this is completed I'll understand how it happened.
My trouble started two years back when I decided to go to a bar to try to pick up a woman, even though it was more likely I would only sit and watch other guys succeed. You see, I'm short and slight, pale and unfit, and... Brandy says I have to confess everything... have an undersized dick. I'll give you an example of what that leads to. Three years ago, on one of my rare dates, an even rarer event occurred. I got a girl from the office where I work to my apartment and into the bedroom. She insisted that the lights stay on when we got into bed and, to my shame, wanted to watch me undress. When I reluctantly lowered my shorts in front of her avid eyes, she broke out laughing at the sight of my four inch erection. She told me bluntly that it would never satisfy her and said I had better get my face between her legs if I didn't want her telling everyone at work what a shrimpdick I am. So I had to go down on her and sate her extreme need for climaxes. I hate performing cunnilingus. It made me sick to my stomach. She went away satisfied and left me with my little balls aching. Plus, she told every girl in the office anyway.
A year after that I found myself in that bar, desperate, not sure what I was doing. I drank two beers and kept stealing glances at girls who didn't consider me worth their time. It was kind of a cheap bar. I had figured the girls there might be trashy enough that I would have a chance. They were trashy but they were also brazenly sexual, outgoing, and had plenty of tough guys to choose from. I was about to give up and leave when Brandy walked into the dimly lit room. I nearly fell off my barstool. She was taller than the others, with long, tightly wavy black hair parted in the middle. Her face was broad and high-cheek boned, her green eyes almond-shaped, nostrils wide, lips full almost to the point of caricature. The tight top and jeans she wore displayed her substantial curves. The attention of several guys was drawn by her burgeoning bust, cleavage exposed by three open buttons. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed one girl punching her boyfriend's arm in displeasure. He jabbed her with his elbow. My own attention moved down to Brandy's waist, fleshy but narrow in contrast to her flaring hips and large thighs. The image of dangerous sexuality was completed by solid calves, and small feet encased in black shoes with square toes and stacked heels. I was panting inwardly as she strolled past me. Then I saw her jutting bottom in profile and I felt faint. As she moved on I was taken by the sheer breadth of her backside, an invitation to unbridled lust, and the way the rear seam of her jeans sank so deeply between twin rounded globes.
The bartender, a tall hard-faced muscleman with tattoos to spare, knew her. They exchanged greetings and he poured her what I guessed was her regular drink, something he deftly mixed from three different bottles. As she took a swallow the light that illuminated the cash register keyboard reflected off her face. Her olive skin was oily and her cheeks were marred by deep acne scars. She smiled, exposing oversized teeth with a gap between the top front two. I drained my beer to brace myself. After the initial shock of seeing her, I realized she was more overweight than I had first thought. At the same time, my clearer view of her face disturbed me. All at once she appeared slutty, obvious and unpretty. Yet she didn't lose any of her original appeal as a libido-enflaming object of desire. I was at once bewitched and repelled.
The bartender left to serve a biker couple at the end of the bar. Emboldened by my two beers -- alcohol goes straight to my head -- I moved to an empty seat alongside her. The way her ass overfilled her perch mesmerized me. Praying that my voice wouldn't catch in my throat, I offered to buy her a drink. She grinned at me, horse teeth framed by sensuous lips, and I froze. Before I could regain my composure she put her hand on my thigh, high up. The bartender returned, drawn I suppose by my change of seats, and she told him to make her another of her specials. Then she swiveled back toward me.
"Now that you're paying for my drink -- and leaving a very generous tip for my friend Ace behind the bar? what do you think you're going to get out of me?"
Hesitantly, I told her, "Well, I thought we could talk a little and..."
"And then you might get something worth a lot more than the cost of a drink?"
"No. I mean, not exactly. That is..."
"It's okay." She patted my leg. "Let's wait and see what happens."
Her fingers moved closer to my crotch and squeezed. A thoughtful expression crossed her face, as if she was calculating something. Not sure what was happening, I sat there like a carved figure, gripping my glass of beer. Brazenly, she cupped my cock and balls to roll them against her palm. Instantly I began to grow hard but then her hand was gone, leaving me breathing hard. She chuckled. Ace delivered her drink and she thanked him with a an air kiss. Then she looked at me meaningfully. For several seconds I didn't know what she wanted but Ace's continued presence reminded me that I should pay and tip? him. I put a twenty on the bar and he locked eyes with me. Not wanting to do it, I told him to keep the change. Then I wondered if that sounded condescending. The last thing I wanted to do was to anger that bruiser. Or more accurately, that was the next to last thing I wanted to do. What I most wanted to avoid was chasing away Brandy. She stayed where she was and I mentally sighed with relief.
"My name's Brandy," she announced. I told her mine and she said, "That's nice, Shortstuff. You know, a little guy like you, if you ended up in bed with me, I might hurt you." She gave me a light pat between the legs. "And it doesn't feel like you've got anything that could hurt me. Right?"
"I..." What was I supposed to say? I was already afraid of being rejected for my immature dick. "If we ended up in bed I... I would make you very happy."
She dipped her forefinger into my beer and ran the tip over my lips. "You know how to use your mouth on a girl, don't you?"
"Yeah, of course." "And I'm guessing you enjoy doing that, don't you?"
"Absolutely," I lied. "I, um, can do that all night long. If you want." What was I saying? It was as if she had hypnotized me with her simultaneous attraction and repulsion. Even her scent was a mixture of perfume and body odor. Still not thinking clearly, I added, "I would do anything that made you happy." And then, sounding like an overeager kid, "Honest."
She turned back to her drink. Had I ruined my chances? Was she silently laughing at me? Brandy took a sip and left me squirming with indecision. I could already picture her getting up and walking away from me, that big -- almost too big -- ass never to be seen again. I knew I wouldn't have the nerve to come back to this place for a second try. Instead of acting, I waited. She nursed her drink as I sat there replaying the feel of her hand on my parts. I couldn't stop hoping she would continue talking to me, touching me, hinting that we might go somewhere together. At the same time, having her call me Shortstuff and make that disparaging remark about my equipment left me believing I had no chance with her. I tried to appear natural as I took a drink of my beer. Brandy turned her back to me and peered around the darkened room. I stole a glance down at her well padded rump and wanted to grab it with both hands, though I would never had the nerve to do something like that. Instead I leaned forward close enough to breath in the scent of her hair, which was a combination of sweat, oil, and a hint of shampoo. Instead of being bothered I was intoxicated. At last she faced me again.
"Let's buy a bottle and go to my place. I live about two blocks from here. Sound good?"
I nodded mutely. When Ace came over again she got a bottle from him and I paid. She handed me the bottle in its brown paper bag, took my arm and marched me out of there. With her arm hooked through mine I could feel the sway of her body as she walked. I was besotted with her, unable to believe that this was happening to me, but at the same time put off by her flaws and fearful that I would be soundly rejected. Still, she already knew about my penis dimensions and hadn't lost interest. Before I could over think the situation we were at her apartment building, inside, and I was following her up one flight of steps, awed by her overly plump bottom in front of my face.
She opened her apartment door and breezed in. I was unhappily shocked to see how messy it was. There were food wrappers and beer cans on the coffee table, an open bag of potato chips on the sofa, two shopping bags left in the corner and, I saw as I entered, an open copy of Playgal sitting on a chair, displaying a full-page picture of a huge-cocked guy who made me look like a grade schooler in that department. Brandy took the bottle from me and headed for her kitchenette. She called back over her shoulder for me to take off my jacket and sit down. I chose the sofa, putting myself on the end opposite from the bag of chips. If Brandy was going to sit with me and I had a chance to get my eager hands on her, I wanted there to be enough room.
She returned with two drinks and handed one to me. Then she sat at an angle, put her glass on the cluttered coffee table, threw a leg across my thighs, and told me to remove her shoes, those black lace-ups with the square toes and stacked heels that I hadn't been able to stop admiring in the bar. A vibration seemed to run through my hands as I placed them on the compelling footwear. By the time I had removed both shoes I had a straining erection. Even as small as it was, Brandy couldn't miss seeing it. She chuckled and placed a bare foot against the front of my pants, stimulating me until I was gasping with need. She stood abruptly and told me to follow her to the bedroom. I nearly fell as I jumped to my feet and scurried after her big ass, gawking at the way her buttocks rubbed against each other inside her jeans.
In the bedroom she wordlessly stripped. I took a chance and did the same. She was magnificent yet frightening, sexy yet overblown. She let herself fall back onto the mattress and spread her legs lewdly. Between her thighs grew a thick dark bush. I put my fingers under the waistband of my jockey shorts and, taking a deep breath, lowered them. Brandy snickered but made no comment on my short, narrow stiffy. I climbed onto the mattress and put myself between her long legs. As I moved forward she raised her feet and pressed her thighs against the sides of my face, the weight of her lower extremeties resting on my shoulders.
With a smirk she told me, "I don't want that pathetic shrimp that's between your legs. I want your face on my pussy right NOW, and you'd better do a hell of a job eating me. Right?"
I could only nod numbly. This wasn't what I wanted. As she let her legs fall back onto the sheet I brought my face close to her sex. It was rank and the stench made my stomach turn over. The usual aversion I had toward cunnilingus doubled. Her outer labia were thick, rippled, and vivid pink. I forced myself to deliver a kiss to them and then probe the space between with my unwilling tongue. It was disgusting, but the part of me that was attracted to her and the part of me that feared rejection overrode the rest of me, which simply wanted to grab my clothes and flee. As I lapped and sucked, Brandy began to moan softly and roll her hips. I tried not to go too fast or too slow. Maybe if I pleased her with my mouth she would grant me 'pity sex' afterward.
For over a half hour I stayed down there, feeling ill, but bringing her to a trio of loud, jerking orgasms. At last she thumped me in the small of the back with her heel to tell me I was done. Then she rolled over and told me to kiss her ass goodnight. I pressed my lips lightly to first one and then the other firm but yielding mound. Brandy sighed and ordered me to keep doing that. Then, after it was plain I wasn't about to protest, she told me to kiss 'right in the center'. I moved my mouth over her deep cheekage and inhaled an unclean stench. All I had to do was appease her, I thought, give her whatever she wants, and we can move forward from there. She wouldn't put me through all this without some physical reward. I lowered my face until it was in contact with her backside and kissed the insides of her rear crack. Brandy purred approvingly and said in a less demanding voice that I should keep doing that.
After several repetitions she asked in a sultry whisper if I would go deeper. As revolting as that was, I felt she was softening, so I planted the next several kisses directly on her rear pucker. Couldn't she let me stop then? No. She playfully suggested that I give her a deep kiss.
"Real deep," she said. "Use your tongue."
There didn't seem to be any way to turn back. Taking a deep breath, I kissed again and slowly drove my tongue into her back entrance as far as I could. Brandy rocked her hips side to side and moaned happily, so I drew my tongue back and pushed it into her again. And again. After a quarter hour she at last rolled onto her back.
"That was good," she told me lazily. "Now stay down there in case I need your mouth again during the night. Don't come up here, not after where your mouth's been." She laughed softly. "I'm sure that even if I sleep straight through, I'll want a nice good morning kiss down there when I wake up."
When she awoke, true to her word, she had me glue my mouth to her smelly pubes again and work until she enjoyed an early climax. Then, while she relaxed, I had to worship her unwashed feet with my mouth, licking off all the dried sweat and dirt that was on them. I believed my situation couldn't grow any worse, but I was wrong. She said something about her not letting me 'stick it into' her. I tried to be polite and said that there was always next time. Brandy laughed cruelly and told me there wouldn't be a next time... for that.
Then she declared that she would show me why. She fished her cell phone out of her bag and made a call. She spoke to someone and told them to come over right away. Puzzled, I could only lay there breathing in her pussy odor. After that she had enough consideration to tell me I could use the bathroom. From all the beer I'd had the night before I was overdue. The bathroom was as messy as the rest of her apartment. I ignored that and gratefully emptied my bladder. Still naked, I returned to the bedroom. But as soon as I got there a knock sounded on the front door. Brandy told me to answer it. When I reached for my underwear she told me not to bother. Shamefaced, I went and opened the door an inch, hiding my nakedness. Outside stood a towering broad shouldered Black man. I started to say something and he shoved the door opened, nearly knocking me over, and walked in. He only spared a brief glance at my undressed, shamefaced appearance before he strode into the bedroom.
Brandy greeted him with a cheery, "Hello, Rock. I could sure use a proper screwing." Then she hollered out to me, "Hey, shrimpdick, get into the bedroom... NOW!"
Viewed: 5416 Times!
I am trapped in a horrible marriage, with a hypersexed but sadistic woman, who is a total slut in bed... but never with me. It's hard for me to believe, but now she's making me write an account of what occurred. Maybe before this is completed I'll understand how it happened.
My trouble started two years back when I decided to go to a bar to try to pick up a woman, even though it was more likely I would only sit and watch other guys succeed. You see, I'm short and slight, pale and unfit, and... Brandy says I have to confess everything... have an undersized dick. I'll give you an example of what that leads to. Three years ago, on one of my rare dates, an even rarer event occurred. I got a girl from the office where I work to my apartment and into the bedroom. She insisted that the lights stay on when we got into bed and, to my shame, wanted to watch me undress. When I reluctantly lowered my shorts in front of her avid eyes, she broke out laughing at the sight of my four inch erection. She told me bluntly that it would never satisfy her and said I had better get my face between her legs if I didn't want her telling everyone at work what a shrimpdick I am. So I had to go down on her and sate her extreme need for climaxes. I hate performing cunnilingus. It made me sick to my stomach. She went away satisfied and left me with my little balls aching. Plus, she told every girl in the office anyway.
A year after that I found myself in that bar, desperate, not sure what I was doing. I drank two beers and kept stealing glances at girls who didn't consider me worth their time. It was kind of a cheap bar. I had figured the girls there might be trashy enough that I would have a chance. They were trashy but they were also brazenly sexual, outgoing, and had plenty of tough guys to choose from. I was about to give up and leave when Brandy walked into the dimly lit room. I nearly fell off my barstool. She was taller than the others, with long, tightly wavy black hair parted in the middle. Her face was broad and high-cheek boned, her green eyes almond-shaped, nostrils wide, lips full almost to the point of caricature. The tight top and jeans she wore displayed her substantial curves. The attention of several guys was drawn by her burgeoning bust, cleavage exposed by three open buttons. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed one girl punching her boyfriend's arm in displeasure. He jabbed her with his elbow. My own attention moved down to Brandy's waist, fleshy but narrow in contrast to her flaring hips and large thighs. The image of dangerous sexuality was completed by solid calves, and small feet encased in black shoes with square toes and stacked heels. I was panting inwardly as she strolled past me. Then I saw her jutting bottom in profile and I felt faint. As she moved on I was taken by the sheer breadth of her backside, an invitation to unbridled lust, and the way the rear seam of her jeans sank so deeply between twin rounded globes.
The bartender, a tall hard-faced muscleman with tattoos to spare, knew her. They exchanged greetings and he poured her what I guessed was her regular drink, something he deftly mixed from three different bottles. As she took a swallow the light that illuminated the cash register keyboard reflected off her face. Her olive skin was oily and her cheeks were marred by deep acne scars. She smiled, exposing oversized teeth with a gap between the top front two. I drained my beer to brace myself. After the initial shock of seeing her, I realized she was more overweight than I had first thought. At the same time, my clearer view of her face disturbed me. All at once she appeared slutty, obvious and unpretty. Yet she didn't lose any of her original appeal as a libido-enflaming object of desire. I was at once bewitched and repelled.
The bartender left to serve a biker couple at the end of the bar. Emboldened by my two beers -- alcohol goes straight to my head -- I moved to an empty seat alongside her. The way her ass overfilled her perch mesmerized me. Praying that my voice wouldn't catch in my throat, I offered to buy her a drink. She grinned at me, horse teeth framed by sensuous lips, and I froze. Before I could regain my composure she put her hand on my thigh, high up. The bartender returned, drawn I suppose by my change of seats, and she told him to make her another of her specials. Then she swiveled back toward me.
"Now that you're paying for my drink -- and leaving a very generous tip for my friend Ace behind the bar? what do you think you're going to get out of me?"
Hesitantly, I told her, "Well, I thought we could talk a little and..."
"And then you might get something worth a lot more than the cost of a drink?"
"No. I mean, not exactly. That is..."
"It's okay." She patted my leg. "Let's wait and see what happens."
Her fingers moved closer to my crotch and squeezed. A thoughtful expression crossed her face, as if she was calculating something. Not sure what was happening, I sat there like a carved figure, gripping my glass of beer. Brazenly, she cupped my cock and balls to roll them against her palm. Instantly I began to grow hard but then her hand was gone, leaving me breathing hard. She chuckled. Ace delivered her drink and she thanked him with a an air kiss. Then she looked at me meaningfully. For several seconds I didn't know what she wanted but Ace's continued presence reminded me that I should pay and tip? him. I put a twenty on the bar and he locked eyes with me. Not wanting to do it, I told him to keep the change. Then I wondered if that sounded condescending. The last thing I wanted to do was to anger that bruiser. Or more accurately, that was the next to last thing I wanted to do. What I most wanted to avoid was chasing away Brandy. She stayed where she was and I mentally sighed with relief.
"My name's Brandy," she announced. I told her mine and she said, "That's nice, Shortstuff. You know, a little guy like you, if you ended up in bed with me, I might hurt you." She gave me a light pat between the legs. "And it doesn't feel like you've got anything that could hurt me. Right?"
"I..." What was I supposed to say? I was already afraid of being rejected for my immature dick. "If we ended up in bed I... I would make you very happy."
She dipped her forefinger into my beer and ran the tip over my lips. "You know how to use your mouth on a girl, don't you?"
"Yeah, of course." "And I'm guessing you enjoy doing that, don't you?"
"Absolutely," I lied. "I, um, can do that all night long. If you want." What was I saying? It was as if she had hypnotized me with her simultaneous attraction and repulsion. Even her scent was a mixture of perfume and body odor. Still not thinking clearly, I added, "I would do anything that made you happy." And then, sounding like an overeager kid, "Honest."
She turned back to her drink. Had I ruined my chances? Was she silently laughing at me? Brandy took a sip and left me squirming with indecision. I could already picture her getting up and walking away from me, that big -- almost too big -- ass never to be seen again. I knew I wouldn't have the nerve to come back to this place for a second try. Instead of acting, I waited. She nursed her drink as I sat there replaying the feel of her hand on my parts. I couldn't stop hoping she would continue talking to me, touching me, hinting that we might go somewhere together. At the same time, having her call me Shortstuff and make that disparaging remark about my equipment left me believing I had no chance with her. I tried to appear natural as I took a drink of my beer. Brandy turned her back to me and peered around the darkened room. I stole a glance down at her well padded rump and wanted to grab it with both hands, though I would never had the nerve to do something like that. Instead I leaned forward close enough to breath in the scent of her hair, which was a combination of sweat, oil, and a hint of shampoo. Instead of being bothered I was intoxicated. At last she faced me again.
"Let's buy a bottle and go to my place. I live about two blocks from here. Sound good?"
I nodded mutely. When Ace came over again she got a bottle from him and I paid. She handed me the bottle in its brown paper bag, took my arm and marched me out of there. With her arm hooked through mine I could feel the sway of her body as she walked. I was besotted with her, unable to believe that this was happening to me, but at the same time put off by her flaws and fearful that I would be soundly rejected. Still, she already knew about my penis dimensions and hadn't lost interest. Before I could over think the situation we were at her apartment building, inside, and I was following her up one flight of steps, awed by her overly plump bottom in front of my face.
She opened her apartment door and breezed in. I was unhappily shocked to see how messy it was. There were food wrappers and beer cans on the coffee table, an open bag of potato chips on the sofa, two shopping bags left in the corner and, I saw as I entered, an open copy of Playgal sitting on a chair, displaying a full-page picture of a huge-cocked guy who made me look like a grade schooler in that department. Brandy took the bottle from me and headed for her kitchenette. She called back over her shoulder for me to take off my jacket and sit down. I chose the sofa, putting myself on the end opposite from the bag of chips. If Brandy was going to sit with me and I had a chance to get my eager hands on her, I wanted there to be enough room.
She returned with two drinks and handed one to me. Then she sat at an angle, put her glass on the cluttered coffee table, threw a leg across my thighs, and told me to remove her shoes, those black lace-ups with the square toes and stacked heels that I hadn't been able to stop admiring in the bar. A vibration seemed to run through my hands as I placed them on the compelling footwear. By the time I had removed both shoes I had a straining erection. Even as small as it was, Brandy couldn't miss seeing it. She chuckled and placed a bare foot against the front of my pants, stimulating me until I was gasping with need. She stood abruptly and told me to follow her to the bedroom. I nearly fell as I jumped to my feet and scurried after her big ass, gawking at the way her buttocks rubbed against each other inside her jeans.
In the bedroom she wordlessly stripped. I took a chance and did the same. She was magnificent yet frightening, sexy yet overblown. She let herself fall back onto the mattress and spread her legs lewdly. Between her thighs grew a thick dark bush. I put my fingers under the waistband of my jockey shorts and, taking a deep breath, lowered them. Brandy snickered but made no comment on my short, narrow stiffy. I climbed onto the mattress and put myself between her long legs. As I moved forward she raised her feet and pressed her thighs against the sides of my face, the weight of her lower extremeties resting on my shoulders.
With a smirk she told me, "I don't want that pathetic shrimp that's between your legs. I want your face on my pussy right NOW, and you'd better do a hell of a job eating me. Right?"
I could only nod numbly. This wasn't what I wanted. As she let her legs fall back onto the sheet I brought my face close to her sex. It was rank and the stench made my stomach turn over. The usual aversion I had toward cunnilingus doubled. Her outer labia were thick, rippled, and vivid pink. I forced myself to deliver a kiss to them and then probe the space between with my unwilling tongue. It was disgusting, but the part of me that was attracted to her and the part of me that feared rejection overrode the rest of me, which simply wanted to grab my clothes and flee. As I lapped and sucked, Brandy began to moan softly and roll her hips. I tried not to go too fast or too slow. Maybe if I pleased her with my mouth she would grant me 'pity sex' afterward.
For over a half hour I stayed down there, feeling ill, but bringing her to a trio of loud, jerking orgasms. At last she thumped me in the small of the back with her heel to tell me I was done. Then she rolled over and told me to kiss her ass goodnight. I pressed my lips lightly to first one and then the other firm but yielding mound. Brandy sighed and ordered me to keep doing that. Then, after it was plain I wasn't about to protest, she told me to kiss 'right in the center'. I moved my mouth over her deep cheekage and inhaled an unclean stench. All I had to do was appease her, I thought, give her whatever she wants, and we can move forward from there. She wouldn't put me through all this without some physical reward. I lowered my face until it was in contact with her backside and kissed the insides of her rear crack. Brandy purred approvingly and said in a less demanding voice that I should keep doing that.
After several repetitions she asked in a sultry whisper if I would go deeper. As revolting as that was, I felt she was softening, so I planted the next several kisses directly on her rear pucker. Couldn't she let me stop then? No. She playfully suggested that I give her a deep kiss.
"Real deep," she said. "Use your tongue."
There didn't seem to be any way to turn back. Taking a deep breath, I kissed again and slowly drove my tongue into her back entrance as far as I could. Brandy rocked her hips side to side and moaned happily, so I drew my tongue back and pushed it into her again. And again. After a quarter hour she at last rolled onto her back.
"That was good," she told me lazily. "Now stay down there in case I need your mouth again during the night. Don't come up here, not after where your mouth's been." She laughed softly. "I'm sure that even if I sleep straight through, I'll want a nice good morning kiss down there when I wake up."
When she awoke, true to her word, she had me glue my mouth to her smelly pubes again and work until she enjoyed an early climax. Then, while she relaxed, I had to worship her unwashed feet with my mouth, licking off all the dried sweat and dirt that was on them. I believed my situation couldn't grow any worse, but I was wrong. She said something about her not letting me 'stick it into' her. I tried to be polite and said that there was always next time. Brandy laughed cruelly and told me there wouldn't be a next time... for that.
Then she declared that she would show me why. She fished her cell phone out of her bag and made a call. She spoke to someone and told them to come over right away. Puzzled, I could only lay there breathing in her pussy odor. After that she had enough consideration to tell me I could use the bathroom. From all the beer I'd had the night before I was overdue. The bathroom was as messy as the rest of her apartment. I ignored that and gratefully emptied my bladder. Still naked, I returned to the bedroom. But as soon as I got there a knock sounded on the front door. Brandy told me to answer it. When I reached for my underwear she told me not to bother. Shamefaced, I went and opened the door an inch, hiding my nakedness. Outside stood a towering broad shouldered Black man. I started to say something and he shoved the door opened, nearly knocking me over, and walked in. He only spared a brief glance at my undressed, shamefaced appearance before he strode into the bedroom.
Brandy greeted him with a cheery, "Hello, Rock. I could sure use a proper screwing." Then she hollered out to me, "Hey, shrimpdick, get into the bedroom... NOW!"
Viewed: 5416 Times!
