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The following week, Clare and I reconnected. We had spent a lot of time apart and playing separately, and while that was fun for a short while, we both needed some couple time for our relationship to stay healthy.
I had Sunday with my fiancée; we kissed like teenagers in the cinema, held hands during a walk around a nearby lake at sunset, and then she donned her new lingerie, attached her strapon and we fucked like rabbits to leave me a cum-covered, satisfied mess.
After work on Monday, we visited a local restaurant, and the following evening we fed the ducks and geese at the village park. However, an exhibition of Clare’s power and dominance was never too far away, and we went to see Scott and Virginia on Thursday. The house was still a bit of a mess as Scott and Iain were not quite Kim and Aggie. My partner gave me a French Maid’s outfit she had borrowed from Victoria’s collection, and ordered me to go clean the kitchen, the lounge, master bedroom and the toilet.
It was humiliating, but everyone knew that, and they also knew that it would make me horny. Which it did. Scott and Virginia got a cleaner house, and Clare dominated me without having to lift a finger. My lover teased me on the way home, and I had to seek Martin’s mouth to get any sort of satisfaction.
To use up some of my remaining annual leave, I had agreed with my manager that I would take every Friday off work until the end of the holiday year. Over breakfast, Clare gave me a printout of an order that she needed me to collect from the other side of the county. “It’s near Stockport. They said it would be ready after lunch.”
“If you’re going that way, could you look in on one of my flats,” Martin asked. “It’s in my block of apartments near the airport. It’s the property my businesses use when they have visitors to Manchester. Leo left yesterday, and I got the cleaners visiting tomorrow, but if you could put the bedding on to wash and hang it up when it’s finished, it’ll dry by the time they visit.” He smiled as he passed me the keys.
Martin’s flat was only a couple of miles away from Bobby’s place of work, and I sent the warehouse worker a text message to ask if he wanted to meet for lunch. When he did, I shared the address and drove in the shimmering magenta VW Beetle. Clare and Victoria had selected some matching bright pink hotpants, with a silver, metallic T-shirt for me to wear for the day, and the outfit was eye-catching and embarrassing. On the journey to the upmarket apartment, I stopped at a small supermarket and turned a few heads as I bought burgers, buns, frozen chips and a dessert. Nobody said a word to me, but I felt the eyes follow me around the aisles.
Martin owned the half of the flats in the small complex; seven were part of his property empire, built from the windfall of the sale of his company. He reserved one for use by the companies he had a stake in; it was near to a tram stop, the city airport and the motorway, well away from his private life but close enough for visitors to use. The modern flat was on the first floor of the three-storey block; the balcony overlooked a business park on the outskirts of the terminal.
As I opened the door, the thunderous sound of a jumbo jet taking off deafened me and I looked into the compact apartment. It comprised two double bedrooms, a kitchenette/living room and a bathroom with the largest shower I had ever seen in a flat.
The entire accommodation was brilliant white, granite grey or black, with trendy spotlights throughout. I put the food in the fridge and stripped the master bed. The last occupant had left the room he had used in a tidy state, but there were crumbs on the floor, and in the sheets. I replaced the bedding and stuffed the dirty linen in the washing machine. I hoovered the apartment as I listened to music and washed the couple of used plates by hand.
Bobby startled me. “You left the door unlocked,” he said as he closed the front door and grinned at me. “What’s this? Clare thrown you out?”
The 24-year-old dropped a small rucksack onto the clean carpet and kicked off his shoes. “Hiya,” I called, and smiled at his wide eyes, taking in my outrageous outfit. “It’s Clare and Victoria. It’s what being a sub is all about. They wanted to embarrass me. After lunch, I have to go to a clothing manufacturer to pick up two Latex garments. In this.” He sniggered. “I thought it would be good to meet up, have some lunch. I got some food in, there’re some cards, some games, go for a walk. We could visit the sauna, but we’d only get a couple of hours before you need to go to work and…”
Bobby sighed. “It’s fantastic to have someone just want to meet, y’know?” He coughed. “I don’t have many friends I can just hang out with. But I could do with a shower if you want to do… anything. I’ve not had one today, and I’d hate…”
“You know I’d go down on you, even if you’d run a hundred marathons,” I said with a coy smile. “But I’ve not had one either. Shall we share one?” I smirked bahis firmaları and gestured towards the bathroom with the massive cubicle. “It’s a two person jobbie.” His lips curled into a grin.
“Yeah, OK. And I have a series I’m watching on a USB stick. Mate gave it to me ages ago. Called Spartacus, but there are loads of sex scenes. Happy to watch one of those.”
“There’s a TV in the bedroom,” I replied. I pushed the magenta spandex to my ankles and dropped it onto the soft leather sofa. Bobby locked the front door and unfastened his blue boiler suit. We both stripped in full view of the balcony window, oblivious to the office workers who could see into the apartment.
The large glass cubicle had a wide shower head over the enclosure and I turned the top dial to start the water. The cramped bathroom had squeezed the oversized booth into the space, but there was little room around the sink, toilet and towel rail for Bobby and I to move as we waited for the warm water to flow.
On the shelf, a previous occupant had left strawberry shower gel, and I beckoned Bobby into the steaming cubicle. I squirted a generous portion of the pink soap into my palm and slowly started rubbing his flesh with the lathering bubbles. He smiled as my fingers swept over his hairless torso. His cock rose as I knelt in front of him and soaped his thighs and his balls. He groaned as I parted his buttcheeks and blew softly between his arse. My slippery hands glided over his back and my body pressed against his.
Spooning him in the hot, steamy shower. My hands wrapped around his body as I breathed on the back of his neck. My fingers swirled against his nipples as I pressed my frame into his. It was deeply erotic and sensual. Deliberately so. Two weeks of salacious and suggestive messages going backwards and forth between us had taken its toll, and I wanted to play with him.
He turned and pushed me back against the wall. His fiery, lustful eyes were ablaze, and he took the gel from the shelf. The feminine soap pooled in his hands, and he lathered my body with wild abandon. Fingers slithered over my cock and balls as they scooted across my slippery flesh. He looked lustfully at my erect dick, and I wrapped my hands on his waist to pull him closer.
Our lips touched, and his tongue caressed mine. A longing kiss, driven by lust. Our pricks rubbed against each other as our hips ground and bucked. My hands gripped his arse, and my fingers squeezed his buttocks as he pushed me against the cool tiled wall.
He broke from our kiss, panting, and put his forehead on mine. “Shall we dry off and slip under the duvet?” I suggested against the failing warm water. “I would love to snuggle up to you.”
He hummed, and I released my grip on his wet arse. We took a towel each and hurriedly dried our bodies. The large television in the master bedroom directly faced the bed, with the freshly laundered bedsheets, and we slipped into the white sheets after I had inserted his USB stick into the smart TV.
Spartacus was a “boobs-and-blood” television series, stuffed full of graphic sex scenes. We both enjoyed the naked men and women, with impeccable bodies, glistening with sweat. The muscular guys had a dirty earthiness to them, and we both had wandering minds as shirtless fighters sparred.
Under the covers, my left hand wrapped around his neck, while my right caressed his bare skin as we cuddled and spooned. It was an intimate couple of hours as we watched the sexually charged drama underneath the fresh duvet while we snuggled and embraced.
I held him tight to my naked body and felt every twitch and squirm from my friend. He groaned as I nuzzled into his ear at the end of the second episode and he turned to face me. A kiss once more, and I rolled him onto his back, pinning him to the bed, as I forced our lips together.
Our tongues crossed as our bodies tessellated. Our cocks rubbed and our nipples grazed as we writhed against each other. The gentle heat from my loins as my hands wrapped around the sexy warehouse worker while we were watching television had erupted into a sizzling inferno. I wanted him. I wanted to feel his bubbling lust that I saw in his fiery expression.
He mumbled as my tongue swirled across his nipple. My fingers closed on his hard cock and I slid under the duvet to satisfy him. It was sweltering between his legs; the heavy eiderdown smothered, and the airless atmosphere was stuffy.
But sheer bliss.
My lips wrapped around his corona. He grunted, and he ran his hands through my hair as my mouth gently worked the tip of his prick. Pre-cum oozed onto my tongue. A zestful, delicious, wonderful scent of his excitement. Of his lust. He groaned as I lovingly sucked the head of his cock and slid down the entirety of his shaft. Sweat gathered on my body in the suffocating space; the air thick with male arousal.
My cock danced as my lips and hands worked his rod. My tongue glided over his frenulum as I bobbed on his kaçak iddaa delicious prick. He groaned as my right hand caressed his hairless balls and smooth perineum. His legs shook and his fingers gripped my hair. His prick twitched, and I sucked greedily, impatient for my treat.
Desperate for his cum.
Eager to feel his prick squirt his seed into my slutty mouth.
Several waves of thick, juicy musk fired into me as he groaned, grinding his hips into the mattress. He lifted the duvet and smiled at me. “My turn,” he whimpered. “That was amazing.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” he snapped, and his right hand tugged at my shoulder. He giggled as I lay on the bed beside him and he clambered on top of me. Bobby was gentle and sensual. His slow movements across my torso were erotic, and he snickered like an excited schoolgirl when his hands touched my erect dick, weeping from his tactile, sensuous rubbing.
Bobby’s mouth was wondrous. His warm lips surrounded the head of my cock and fired a million sparks of sexual excitement across my body. His fingers deftly explored and stroked my lust and my libido until my flesh wept and cried from sizzling, passionate longing.
I craved him to take me to the edge. His sensual blowjob was concentrated horniness and was a drug that I had become rapidly addicted to. His fingers twirled my nipples as his lips and tongue drove me to the very peak of my need. I panted and squealed. I gulped, grunted, cried and mewled as I reached the apex of my point of no return. Dancing on the precipice of my climax.
And then he wantonly and rampantly slammed his mouth down on my dick as he took me careering over the mountain-top. Waves of cool sexual energy swept through my body from my cock to my toes, as my prick pulsed and I released jets of cum into my friend.
He never stopped. He never paused as the cocksucker savoured every drop from my drained balls I lavished into him. He adored it, and we kissed, with the taste of cum still lingering in our mouths.
We showered once more, and I swapped the bedsheets I had just put on the bed in the washing machine. He sat naked, drinking a glass of water, and we chatted while I cooked and then ate the burger and chips I had bought earlier. His partner, a Scottish lady called Heather, was a childcare nurse, and they rented a small two-bedroom house in Sale with another couple. “Have you done… anything with him?” I asked and then added. “I live with Martin and we are always giving each other blowjobs. We have to, as we get little relief elsewhere.”
He laughed. “No. Jermaine’s straight as they come. He spends most of his time in the gym. He’s one of those bike delivery guys, and Jo is finishing a course at Manchester Uni. When she’s done, they’re moving to Scotland. She’s a nurse, and her folks are in Aberdeen and she wants to be up there. Jermaine’ll go with her.”
“And then just you and Heather?”
“It’s a trendy part of town and we can’t afford our house by ourselves. When they move, we’ll share again or downsize. It’s a nice place, furnished, and double driveway, but we could not stand for the rent on our own.” He wiped his chin free of burger juice and snorted. “I don’t get to live rent-free.”
“I know,” I muttered. “We both realise that we are really lucky and we’ve offered to give Martin and Victoria money, but they won’t have it. The more I offer, the more Victoria punishes me,” I added, and recounted my week from the autumn when she had humiliated me for trying to pay. “And Clare and me are looking,” I said. “We want to buy a house and that’s not cheap, and then we will have no money!”
“Ditto! We’re saving up too, but it’s so hard. The banks demand proof that you can pay six hundred quid a month in mortgage payments, and when we point out that we’ve been paying almost a grand every month in rent, that’s not good enough. I mean, what is? Bloody hate banks.” He downed his water and took his plate to the sink.
“Leave it, I’ll clean up,” I told him. “I have to do the baking tray and the frying pan.”
“Yeah, don’t forget your USB stick.”
“OK, well, I better go. I’ve got to be at work in twenty-five minutes.”
I watched the sexy, lissome man dress in his grubby navy boiler suit. He looked sexier, and dirtier in the grimy coveralls, and my cock rose as I stared at him. Still naked, I stood up, and I gave him a hug. “See ya, mate,” I held onto my embrace, squeezing the rough, dirty fabric against my bare skin. “See ya soon.”
“Yeah,” he replied as we parted. Our eyes met, and he smiled before he opened the door and stepped into the corridor of the apartment block. My phone pinged as I cleared up.
“Thanks for a great time. Would love to do that again. Bobby.”
I replied. “Yeah, me too. Love spending time with you.”
I cleaned the flat in the nude and then drove to Clare’s Latex warehouse on the outskirts of Stockport. The male factory shop worker admired me in my pink kaçak bahis hotpants and glittery top, but I felt a little aroused as he flirted with me. I really looked like a slut in the outfit the women had chosen for me, but I enjoyed the attention. I stopped off once more at the flat to pull the second load of bedclothes out of the washing machine and string them up to dry; Martin’s cleaner would appreciate the work I had done.
Clare and Victoria crooned over the luxury Latex garments. The Lady of the House had always enjoyed wearing rubber, and it placed her in a dominant mood. She treated Martin to a session in the dungeon that left his skin criss-crossed with violent welts and marks.
The Saturday party was a boisterous event. A dozen men visited the summerhouse, and there were only three of us on duty. Scott, Cameron, Robin and Anthony injected cum down my throat, while Devon plundered my backside with his oversized meaty prick.
I had no qualms about telling Clare about my rendezvous with Bobby, and she smiled as I recounted the passionate shower and blowjob in the bed. I didn’t need to tell her about my same-sex trysts, just as she didn’t have to admit to her lustful assignations, but I wanted to be honest. “Sounds like someone is well in touch with his bisexual side,” she told me, as we walked around the park.
We fed the ducks and kissed on the bench overlooking the mere, nestled in the middle of the Cheshire countryside. “I love it here,” Clare said. “It’s so peaceful.”
“There’s the M6, three hundred yards in that direction,” I replied, pointing across the lake. “But yeah, it’s nice. When we buy our house, we should look near here. Cheshire is beautiful.”
“Crewe isn’t!” Clare joked and held my hand. She put her head on my shoulder as we watched two ducks fight in the water, and then we drove back to Victoria’s mansion. I spent a lovely day connecting with my partner, and we snuggled together to watch television in her bed. She selected Spartacus, and we started the show from the first episode of Series 1.
She cooed over the naked women and shirtless men. She panted during the sex scenes and at the end of the episode I slipped under the warm duvet and ran my tongue over her hot slit. She groaned as I inhaled her scent and massaged her cunt with my mouth.
Every lick was sheer heaven. A piquant muskiness that drew gasps of sexual pleasure from my fiancee. The love of my life squealed and squirmed as my fingers drove into her and pressed against her G-Spot. She could not resist as I passionately forced her towards her climax. My body sizzled with horniness as I served my partner her orgasm, savouring her bucking hips, quivering thighs and desperate squeals.
We watched another episode, and I repeated it, drawing a gasping, breathless orgasm from my hotwife. And then we spooned to sleep, with me unsatisfied and in need of relief. She kissed me on the lips as she cuddled up in her sexy, silky nightdress.
“Frustrated?” She enquired, and I mewled in response. “Oh dear. You’re in Bristol on Tuesday, aren’t you? Terry’s asked if he can bring some friends over and I said yes,” she whispered into my ear. “He loves dumping his cum in me. I might film it for you.” Her fist closed around my prick, pumped it a few times as she spoke. “He’s got an enormous cock. All his mates have and they intend to use all of me.” I whimpered, and she released her grip, rolled over and replied. “Good night!”
Benji was not available on Tuesday, but Clare made good on her promise and sent me several pictures and a brief clip of her enjoying three men with Victoria. I saw Martin in the background and it was a deeply erotic sight that caused my cock to leak into my tight briefs.
My work over the previous four weeks delighted my manager, and I received a great performance review. “We have new offices from April,” he told me. “Across the business, there’s thirty of you who have been working from home full-time for the past six months. Everyone else has been in to our satellite office for one or two days a week, at least.”
“On our team, it’s just me and Jeff, right?”
“Yeah,” he replied. “But from April that can change. The board have agreed and they want everyone in four days a week in the new office.” He saw the troubled look on my face and he raised the tone of his voice. “But, I have said that I think that would be a problem for you, so what they plan to do, is in April, offer you a contract that has your place of work at home, except for two days a month in the office. Is that OK?”
“That’s fine, yes. My fiancee’s job is moving to Manchester. I can’t come back to Bristol. So if you demand my presence day in, day out in Bristol, then I must leave because we are looking to buy a house in Cheshire. My life is now in the North West.”
He nodded. “I thought so. I’ve made my recommendations to HR, but from April you will not have a dedicated desk in the workplace. We’ve all been impressed by the amount of work you and Jeff get through, so it’s a straightforward decision to make.” He grinned, and then idly said. “And I’ve got family up in Manchester. I’m going to see them at Easter. I’ll drop in on my way back. Say hello.”
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