At the Gym - Part 1

 

Can I ask where you go to church?

Why does that matter?

Because at my age I know people from the gym, church, Boy Scouts, or PTA. And, since we're at the gym, I can rule that out, and your way too hot for the PTA.

Are church women hot? 

They certainly are at my church.

Oh really? Have you noticed?

God tells us to appreciate the beauty of the world, I happen to like doing that.

You know this approach is super cheesy, right?

Well, I wasn't the one who got on the floor on my hands and knees and started doing stretches in front of me.

It was the only open spot on the floor.

That would be true except for the empty aerobics room, the Pilates studio, the mats by the locker room, or the corner by the deadlift station.

Those looked busy. I liked the spot I chose.

I like your choices too. I'm Tony.

I'm Candy and I do go to church with my husband every week.

With your husband? That makes your choice for stretching even more interesting.

What makes it interesting? 

Let's just say you got my attention in the best way possible and freely admit that you are married, I'm flattered and confused.

Don't be confused.

So, what next?

You talk to me tomorrow.

Tomorrow is my swim day. Kind of hard to talk underwater.

Can you talk in a jacuzzi?

Quite nicely in fact.

Finish your swim by 7:30 and I'll be there.

I can make that work. 

I have to leave now, I have 8:00 work call, try not to stare at my ass while I walk away

I'm going to stare at it until the entire gym is uncomfortable.

She turned and walked away without looking back over her shoulder and I kept my promise. Cheryl the trainer laughed at me as she noticed my unbroken gaze.

“What would Susan think about her?” Cheryl asked.

“Susan moved out two weeks ago”, I replied, “so I don't care what she thinks anymore.”

“Shit”, Cheryl said, putting her arm on my shoulder. “That kind of sucks.”

I looked down at my sympathetic friend and said, ”Only kinda.”

 

 ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` `

The house was unusually quiet in the mornings ever since Susan walked out on me and started shacking up with her, with our, investment advisor. Luckily, I knew there was a spark between them early on, so I quietly moved most of my money to a different bank and reallocated my 401K and my pension away from her control. I let Tony and Susan think they were getting away with something behind my back but the $100,000 fund he was investing for us was just play money compared to the rest. 

When she finally files for divorce, I can prove they were conspiring against me for at least six months and his investment strategy of putting accounts in her name only will blow up in their face. I'm OK with that. Losing $100,000 while protecting my house is a small price to pay. It wasn't small change, but I was anticipating the look on her face when they realized I knew all along that they were banging each other every Tuesday afternoon when I had to go north to the Head Office.

The funny thing was that if she only asked, I would have gladly let Tony into our bed. Susan always wanted a three-way with two guys and Tony was a nice guy and handsome and probably had a nice cock, but instead she went behind my back and will pay the price for that. It also didn't hurt that I had a tracker on Susan’s car after her little indiscretion with Randolph.

That barely scratched the surface, all she did was make out with our youth ministry pastor after the annual summer campfire. He's cute, Susan’s hot AF, and campfires are very romantic. What they didn't know was that, because the camp hosts children under 18 all summer, they had security cameras everywhere, including one mounted in the branches of a pine tree that pointed at the campfire amphitheater. I won't even have to use that in the divorce but if it comes up, I'll do it. Randy’s a nice kid and his life doesn't need to be ruined because some hot cougar came after him at camp

I ended my walk down memory lane as I made myself a large mug of hot chocolate with my protein powder, ate my banana, and got dressed. I would be in the pool for most of my workout, but I still needed to look presentable to do a few sit-ups, and work on my favorite machine before the pool. 

Another branch of my gym has just closed down and now all the old folks from the old place need a new place to swim. I'm glad they're still working out at their age but maybe they could do it at a different time? No worries, however, I hopped in the car and drove to the gym barely thinking about who might be in the jacuzzi afterwards.

It's one thing to flirt a little bit in the gym, it happens all the time. Men and women in spandex and T-shirts lifting weights and getting sweaty is a hormonally charged environment and everybody looks good at the gym and everybody gets a little strange. I consciously try not to interact too much, at least I did. I assume beautiful women want to be left alone and who am I to bother them during their workout?  With Susan gone, however, I think a might change my strategy a little bit. Still, no one wants to be known as that creepy guy at the gym so if this thing with Candy is a bust, I'll play it slow

I did the math in my head, 45 laps, 45 minutes, and in the jacuzzi at 7:31. Maybe it's a little passive aggressive but I didn't want to get out of the pool and wait for her if she wasn't going to show up. Of course, hanging out in the jacuzzi with my phone is part of my weekly routine. It wouldn't raise suspicion; I just need time in the pool. The nice thing about a timed swim is I don't count laps. I look at the clock, I figure when I need to stop, and I just go. In my head I race against the people in the other lanes, I try to think of things to write, stories to make up, things to do, but the sound of my breathing and the splashing to the water makes it very hard to think, which was a lifesaver after Susan left. Time without thinking was the best thing of all.

I count the first few laps and then let it go,

12 strokes touch the wall turn around 12 strokes touch the wall turn around. 216 strokes per quarter mile, 864 for a mile, and today's goal, 1080. 1080 breaths, 88 turns, one thought in my head.  “Will she show up?”

I glanced at the clock on the wall at 7:25 and saw her walk in. Tall, fit, wrapped in a beautifully modest one-piece blue bathing suit. That was all I could see as I lost track of where I was and almost ran into the wall. Luckily, she didn't see me flustered at the end of the lane, trying to turn around. She was early and I did not want to seem eager, so I finished three more laps and pushed myself out of the pool in the corner and sat on the edge. She had her back to me, her back to the pool, but I knew it was her, that long brown hair what was her trademark and now, pulled back in a ponytail, it was adorable.

I caught my breath, gathered my things, and walked over. I set my towel, goggles, and phone on the bench and stepped down into the jacuzzi and sat opposite of her and smiled.

“Good morning.” I tried to say it without too much of an exclamation point.

“Good morning to you”, she said in return, “enjoy your swim?”

“Yes”, I said”, indeed I did. 45 minutes, 45 laps, done for the day”

“Done with what?” She asked.

“Done with my workout.”

She leaned back against the Jacuzzi’s edge and put her arms wide open lifting her chest slightly above the water. From her body language I could tell that she had opened her legs.

“Are you really done working out for the day?”

 

The Appointment - Part 2

As she said, at 2:50 her sister was loading up the kids into the light blue Prius.  Two large swim bags were already in the open trunk. Kate wasn’t married though I don’t know why.  She was pretty in an “older sister” kind of way, the softer hips of a certain age, but long brown hair, beautiful eyes, and today, an eye-popping outfit that showed way more cleavage than the average mom taking her kids to swim lessons.  Maybe she was going to distract the lifeguard.

I drove by, pretending not to stare at her as I rolled to a stop at the light, but she caught my eye as she stared at my rear-view mirror.  It was easy to see I was staring at her in the reflection. I signaled, made the right turn, and took a long eastward loop around the block to give her time to leave. The pool was down the hill in the other direction, so I was safe.

My parking spot was behind the neighbor’s garage. They travelled extensively for his Ministering work so I could be off the street. Not that anyone would care, who’s going to notice a 2013 Nova?

I didn’t knock on the front door but stepped around back to her studio. The is where was supposed to be painting.  She did on occasion, but that occasion was not today.

She was in her regular ‘fit, suitable for seeing her sister and playing the part of the caring suburban mother.  Bent over and spreading a new blanket over the big couch, I stayed quiet and watched her as I set my camera gear on the little couch. 

I admired her slim hips, even after two kids, and her strong arms, built from hours at the barre and in the gym.  “Strength & Grace” was painted on the wall as her personal motto.

“I know you are there,” she said, “stop staring at my ass.”

“I’m not staring,” I retorted, “I’m admiring.”

“Either way,” she said, standing and turning toward me, “we need to move ahead, Tim’s coming home at 4:30 to grab some tools for an emergency job.”

I stepped around the room turning on the lights I wanted, turning off the others.

“Emergency?” I asked.

“The pipes at Grace Lutheran on Penn Street,” she said and turned toward me, pulling her sweatshirt over her head as she talked, “they are leaking again.”

Her bra was dark blue, thin, sheer, and beautiful. Her breasts were real though many assumed they were fake because they looked so good after nursing two kids and dealing with a cancer scare.

“They are real,” she said once at a party, “but repaired.” The circle of friends laughed, and the men tried not to stare at the topic of conversation.  “Getting some new upholstery doesn’t mean your couch isn’t real.”

“Pipes leaking?” I asked as I prepped my gear?”

“Whistling,” she said, as she sat on the arm rest of the couch next to me, putting her hand on my arm for balance and pulling off her shoes and socks, “last week’s little 3.2 tremblor shook the organ pretty badly and he’s picking up his welding great to help the techs.”

She removed her tennis shoes and, as the client requested, her toenails were deep green with a read stripe, maybe he was getting in the Christmas spirit.

“How do you want to do this?” I asked, Same as last week?”

“I have a couple of Ideas, but yes, let’s get started.”

She stood up next to me and our eyes met because she knew this was my favorite part. With two thumbs in her waistband she pulled her sweatpants down and off in a single motion and stepped out of them. Her panties matched her thin bra and she did a little pirouette for my enjoyment. Once a dancer, always a dancer, I thought in my head admiring her long thin legs, her strong thighs, and her perfectly tight round little ass. The thin blue fabric disappeared between her cheeks and the front triangle was low across her shaved pubis.

“Did you obey the rules?”

She was starting to get in the mental space she needed to be in and answered, yes Sir yes Sir. New paragraph I returned to the favor, taking her left hand in mine and pulling her toward me, I kissed her on the forehead, and said, “Good girl.”

The first shot was always the same, she lay on her stomach with her head facing away from me and in a washable magic marker I wrote the client's name on her left foot. On the right foot I wrote the date.

My camera focused on the words making them crisp and clear and putting her slightly parted legs in the background in a soft blur. Later, that beautiful ass would be in crisp clear focus and he would get his money's worth. After the initial shot was finished, she rolled onto her back and scooted up on the couch. Her feet were the focus, the beautiful nails, the slender toes, her polished skin, and even her heels were porcelain smooth. She knew what she was doing. She was giving her client masturbation material. His foot fetish was well documented and had made her several thousand dollars over the last six months.

The money came in handy as her husband's medical bills piled up.

“It's just my feet,” she said at first, but then he offered more money in exchange for more pictures, and to pay off more bills, she accepted.

She and I have been friends for years period I knew her husband through the Rotary Club and some local business deals we were both involved with. His diagnosis was devastating to everyone but I'm the only one that knows how those bills are getting paid. He thinks she negotiated a really good insurance deal and was grateful when she offered to take care of all the billing and insurance statements. Right now, he's clueless.

My camera clicked quietly and frequently as she moved through a fairly standard set of pictures. Her toes and feet would be in focus, her body in the background, her deep blue bra, the sheer panties, her hands and hair all start off in soft focus.

She always got a little nervous when it was time to escalate

We always paused for a mental check, and I switched my camera to video to record the same disclaimer I insisted on every week

Hello, my name is Claire, it is October 19th, 2026. I am here with my photographer known as “The Eraser”, I am here voluntarily. All pictures taken will be done so voluntarily, I am not under coercion, I am here of my own free will. The safe word of the day is pixel and I am independently recording this session for everyone's safety.

We then hit stop on the video, and I start a new file.

My name is Claire, it is October 19th, 2026. The video I am about to shoot is of a sexual and intimate nature. I do so voluntarily and of my own free will. I certified that I am over 21 years old in the state where I live and am legally an adult making this decision of my own free will. I have personally selected the actions and images I will share. There is no coercion I am here with my own free will. My partner who may or may not appear on video, and my cameraman, have both signed disclaimers which are on file with my attorney at Jenkins, Collinsworth and Penske Associates. All rights to these videos are held by me and my legal corporation of Pixie Films Incorporated LLC.

“Are you ready?”

She sank deep into the couch and brought her heels inward so her feet and panties were in the same shot.  I adjusted the lights, tuned my flash, and focused.

Her fingers stared to caress her feet, play with her toes, and then move to the outside of her panties.  Through the sheer material I could already see she was getting wet. Just because it made her nervous, did not mean it didn't turn her on. She laid back on the couch and the pose became more relaxed, less staged, as her fingers disappeared between her thighs, using her long fingernails to scratch add her lips now damp and pressed against the translucent silk. Soon her fingers slipped inside her panties, I adjusted the light to create a shadow that showed what her fingers were doing.

“You shaved.” I said, chiding her gently.

“I needed to be ready, Sir.”

“You did well.” I said, “Are they on your phone?”

“Yes, Sir.” She whispered as her fingers began to explore deeper.

It is always a challenge to stay focused as our sessions get more intense. But that's what I was getting paid for, so ignored my girl ain't cock and focused on her fingers sliding up and down under they were panties.

Without prompting, I watched her body shift and backed up to let her move, her panties slipped down over her legs and onto the floor where I took several pictures of the abandoned silk. When I looked back up again, she was in Lotus position, the soles of her feet press together, her beautiful toes touching, her legs spread wide, the lips of her pussy sworn and spread as her fingers slid up and down the wet loops.

“Penetrate”

She obeyed me with the right amount of teasing, sooner read and where green and red striped fingernails disappeared inside her body only to be brought back up out wet and slippery to plunge back in again.

“Spread”

Shifting her body again, her feet went wide and her legs were spread and completely open as she laid back on the couch. I knelt on the floor in front of my wife’s best friend and watched her masturbate herself to orgasm through my lens.

She wasn't kidding that there was an independent video being made from the upper corner of her desk. It was purely for legal reasons, but it also proved that she did everything voluntarily. Every touch, every stroke, every penetrating thrust of her fingers that brought her closer and closer to climax was of her own free will and choice. I gave her very little instructions. An occasional tap of my finger on her inner thigh would help keep her spread for good pictures for the light for the movement for the motion.

“Bra”

While her feet were the focus of her client's obsession, she was too perfect to keep covered. The shots that were already taken hinted at her magnificence, but now her piercing came into view, a single diamond through her left nipple. For these there would be an extra fee that he would gladly pay. Her fingers pulled and pinched at the tight brown nipples. As they got larger and larger my cock did the same, swelling within my black slacks, bulging, coating my boxers with pre vum. I zoomed out and shot her beautiful torso, hinting at her face but never revealing it.

Her first and 2nd orgasms were tight and intense and quiet and came from deep within her body. As #3 and 4 rolled over her, I changed my camera settings to catch the blurred fingers the high-speed thrusting, the stroking, the engorged to clit. Each picture was the kinetic frantic motion moment of pleasure. The blanket was dark with wetness, her fingers were smeared with juices, and her lips were bright pink with engorged pleasure. Climax #5 made her call out, half in tender pain and half in frustration.

“I want you to fuck me come on I want you to come inside me I want to fill me up”

“That's not the deal”

“Fuck the deal, I want more.”

“That's not what we agreed to”

‘But that's what I want”

“That’s only what you want now.”

“fuck fuck fuck”

“I'm ready for the final picture.”

She gathered herself back up on the couch and we quickly arranged the blanket to be smooth and pretty while keeping the giant wet spot visible between her legs. This final shot went to a different client account. Premium pricing. She sat up and unbuckled my pants and pulled my belt out and unzipped my slacks.

She repositioned herself I adjusted my camera for one final set of pictures, her feet were snug uptight against her wet and swollen pussy and I had my target zone.

As we agreed she put her hands on her knees and watched me stroke my cock. I wanted to fuck her with every ounce of my body I wanted to come inside her but that was not the deal.

This is where I made my money along with hers and I came and came in rope after rope and coated her feet with cum. My camera was shaky in my hand but the settings would remove the blur and capture everything. 20-30 shots later I was finished.

My cum was on her toenails, white against the dark green and red stripe. She giggled and cried a little bit, then giggled some more and complimented my output.

Still shaking, I stood up, cleaned up with the supplies we learned to have on hand, and then pulled her to her feet.

She kissed me gently on the lips. Temporarily satiated, our rational minds were back in control. She placed the blue panties and bra in a mailing envelope and tucked it into a file cabinet under her desk. She bagged the blanket in a black trash bag and slipped into her sweatpants and shirt. She gave me a wonderful, full-body hug and handed me the trash bag. Getting rid of the evidence was my job.

I packed my gear, kissed her on her forehead, and walked toward the door.  I tapped the digital clock on the wall which said, 4:07.

“Right on time,” I said, and slipped out the door to let her reconfigure before being mom again.

I started up the car and pulled onto Olive street when my phone chimed with a text.

It was a screenshot, a text from Kate.

“Swimng pool closed bad pump-taking kids for burger, back home early.  Need anything”?

As I waited at the light, I looked in my rear view mirror, and saw her staring at me in front of her light blue Prius.

The appointment - Part 1

Can you come over?

Now?

Before 3:00

Why?

Because he gets home at 5:00.

Two hours?  Is that enough?

It's plenty.  I need a new batch of pictures.

What kind?

The kind I get paid for.

When was your last pedicure?

Yesterday, and yes, I got the red stripe he asked for.

How much?

Same scale as before, $500 per foot and $2,000 if he can see my piercing.

Thank goodness for EFTs right?

Did you delete last week's batch?

Of course.  He only pays for 24-hour access, and he can only see them on the tablet I sent him.

Smart move. You are protected and he's got an empty tablet after 24 hours of...

Don't finish that sentence.

OK, but how long are you going to play along?

Until Tim's treatments are paid for.

So....?

Another year depending on next month's oncology report.

OK, I can be there at 2:30.  

No, 3:00, my sister's picking up the kids at 2:45 for swim lessons. If you see a blue Prius, keep driving.

OK, I'll see you in a bit.  Oh, home or studio?

Studio, I got a new blanket for the big couch, gives me room to...

You really need to stop blushing when you talk.  

...spread... it what I was going to say.

That's better.  and you know the rules.  Once I'm on my way...

I know the rules.

Tell me.

Every time?

Every time.

Once we agree on a time, no touching, no talking, no calling, no cumming.

That is correct.  Well done.

Do you need to shave?

I figured you could help me with that. 

I'd love to, but remember, that doesn't get you a discount.

I know.  I'll see you at 3:00.

Curing a Hoarder - Part 4 (the end?)

OK, this went way longer than I expected it to, but I saw her over the weekend and WOW, she inspires me.

Part 1:  Free Advice is worth what you pay for it: Curing a Hoarder - Part 1

Part 2: Free Advice is worth what you pay for it: Curing a Hoarder - Part 2

Part 3: Free Advice is worth what you pay for it: Curing a Hoarder - Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I looked down at Jen she opened her mouth for my hard cock.

“Jones!” Jason yelled, a bit of fear or tears in his voice, “Stop!”

I turned to look at my hog-tied friend and smiled as I pushed my cock deep into his wife’s hungry mouth.  She swallowed my whole shaft and grabbed the back of her head and forced myself in deeper.  She began to convulse as she ran out of air and her gag reflex kicked in.

“Please stop!” Jason yelled, angry now as his wife pulled of my cock. Long strands of spit ran from her mouth to my shy shaft and she fell onto her back, trying to catch her breath.

“Do you want me to stop, Jen?” I asked as I moved over between Jen’s open legs, “are you done?”

“NO no no no no no” she moaned, spreading her legs wide, reaching between them with her hands to spread her labia for me. Then she stopped and changed her position on the floor so that Jason could see her open lips.

“Look at me Jason, my husband, look at how wet I am!” Jen called out.

I looked up and saw Becky rubbing her nipples in soft slow circles.

“Give Jason a recap of the day.” I said as I rubbed my cock on Jen’s clit for Jason’s “entertainment, “Tell him what a good girl Jen has been.”

Becky turned to look at Jen and spread her legs and began masturbating.

“Jason,” she started, “Your wife has been very, very good today.  I told her that I was going to train her to be a good wife, with a clean house, and a cleaner bank account.”

As she began to speak, I penetrated Jen slowly so Jason had to watch his wife take his best friend’s cock. He pulled at the restraints but could do nothing.

Becky continued. “Training starts with rules, Jason.” Becky stood up, “and you have never given Jen rules, not like a real man would do, so she made her own rules.”

Back stood naked in front of Jason, blocking his view of his wife moaning.

“You abandoned her, Jason, in her time of greatest need.” Becky lifted Jason’s chin with her fingertip.  “Her body was growing new life, full of hormones and desire, and need, and you treated her as if she was some breakable China doll. “

Beck spread her legs and straddled Jason’s knee.

“She was about to pass an 8-pound human through her amazing, powerful vagina, and you thought your puny little 6” dick as going to hurt her? Please, let’s check our ego at the door.”

Jen groaned louder as I my pace increased.

Becky leaned forward, grinding her clit against Jason’s thigh, her nipples inches from his mouth.

“Instead of cumming, Jen started shopping.” Becky stood up and indicated to the room, “we all know that Jen likes shopping, but being abandoned by her husband and his cock at this time was just too much.”

Beck got on the floor and kissed Jen deeply and caressed her full nipples.

“Did you know that Jen would masturbate while she shopped?” Becky shifted around Jen so Jason could see his wife’s nipples, dripping milk. “Shopping was just foreplay. The real climax was hitting that final button,” Beck kissed Jen deeply and I knew what she wanted.

I thrust hard and fast into Jen’s tight and needy pussy.

“Submit,” Becky pinched Jen’s nipple causing a shot of milk to hit my stomach, and I started to cum deep inside as Jen cried out.

“Submit was her favorite button.”

Becky kissed her friend as I filled her with cum, pulling her hips off the ground and pounding again and again as her climax screamed into my wife’s mouth.

Jen struggled to catch her breath and Becky giggled and smiled, and caressed her friend’s face.

“You wife is a very good girl.” Becky said, standing and moving to Jason, “but she needs a man who knows how to treat her.”

Becky moved behind Jason and untied the ropes.  Jason’s eyes flared at me as he decided whether to try (and fail) to kick my ass, or to go to his wife.

He chose correctly and went to kiss his panting wife, but Becky’s hand blocked the kiss.

“First,” she said, “you take care of your wife.”

“What do you mean?” Jason looked up.

“Clean her up.” Becky tipped her head, and I moved out of the way, still holding Jen’s legs high.

Jason looked at me, I smiled back and pushed Jen’s knees to her chest, her pussy lips were white with my cum.

Jen held her knees high and open, “Follow the rules my Husband” she said, and Jason licked her clean.

A few minutes later, Jason and Jen sat on the couch, both dressed, holding hands.

Becky, covered in one of Jen’s robes, and me in my silky CK boxes, sat in front of them.

Becky did most of the talking.

“Jason,” she started, “Jen loves you, she’s smart and sexy and outgoing and talented and sings like an angel, and tastes like heaven,” Jen blushed, “but she needs structure, control, direction, and a strong hand.”

Jen nodded in agreement.

“Today is the first day of YOUR training,” she spoke to Jason, “Mr. Jones will instruct, you will follow.”

Jason raised his hand like a child in school and waited to be called upon like a whiney 3^rd grader.

I slapped his hand down.

“Speak like a man,” I said, “you are in your house, I am just a guest. Tell us what you want.”

“I want a clean house.”

“And who’s duty is that?”

“We work together.”

Jen looked at Becky with pleading in her eyes.

“Jen,” said Becky sternly, “who keeps the house clean?”

“I do” Jen replied softly.

“Who makes dinner?”

“I do” Jen replied.

“Who pleases her husband?” Becky asked.

“I want to.” Said Jen.

I spoke, “Jason, you are in charge of this home, but you lead in love, not anger or by dominion. Jen is your wife, your soulmate, your lover, the mother of your children. You treat her firmly, with confidence, but without guile, without unrighteous control.”

“What do you want Jason?” I asked again.

“I want a clean house.” He replied

“The instruct your wife.” I said.

Jason stood up. “I want the house clean”

“Too vague” I reply

“I want the living room cleared.”

“Be specific,” I said, “help your wife obey.”

“I want to be able to sit on the piano bench.”

“Better,” I said, but give her instruction.”

“Jen,” he said, his voice full of nerves as he plays a new role in his own home, “clear the piano bench.”

Jen almost bounced off the couch, “Yes sir,” she said, and began folding the many blankets the covered the piano bench and surrounding floor. She bent over more deeply than she needed and Jason noticed.  She folded the blankets neatly, and handed Jason a black garbage bag and he held it open.  Jen filled the back with 6 neatly folded blankets and stood proudly in front of him.

Neither of them moved.

“What’s next?” Jason asked.

“What’s the rule Jen?” Becky said,

Jen looked directly at her husband, “A touch for every bag, fingers for every box, and a climax for every load to the Donation Station?"

Jason looked at Becky for guidance.

“Follow the rules.”

Jason reached out and stroked his wife’s cheek gently.

I spoke up, “Is she your Aunt or your wife? A touch for every bag.” 

I took Jason’s hand and put it on Jen’s breast.  She sighed, he blushed, Becky slipped her hand inside the robe and played with her left nipple.

“Move on.”

Jen turned around, bent deeply at her waist, causing her thin workout shorts to ride up, and grabbed the second pile of blankets. Jason eagerly grabbed a black bag and held it open. Jen filled it and stood in front of her husband, her feet in a wider stance.

Jen looked at him, “A touch for every bag.” And guided her husband’s hand between her legs. She leaned into him and sighed.  Becky saw that Jen needed more, and so she put her hand on top of Jason’s and moved his fingertips in firm tiny circles.  Jen’s moan told him that it was better.

“Move on,” I said.

“Clear the mantel” Jason said, more power in his voice.

Jen and Becky worked together to wrap and pack 3 dozen cheap glass figurines, filling a box with bubble wrap and bad art.

Now clear, Jen pulled off her t-shirt and dusted the empty mantel. Her nipples were shiny and wet through the thin silk.

She turned to Jason and handed him her shirt, “fingers for every box.”

Jason stepped forward and began touching his wife through her shorts.

“fingers for every box” Jen said and pulled down and stepped out of her pants. “fingers for every box.”

Jason was suddenly bashful, even after watching his wife cum on another man’s cock only an hour before.

Becky kissed Jen on the cheek, then kissed Jason’s fingertips, “fingers for every box,” she whispered.

Jen lifted her foot to the top of the now-full box, spreading herself and Jason circled, then split his wife’ lips.

Jen wrapped her arms around him and panted, “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

Jason’s fingers found a rhythm and slipped in and out of his wife, pausing at the entrance to circle her engorged clit.

Jen pulled back and looked at me, “Becky filled the box too.” And giggled.

Becky moved to me and let her rob fall open.  I knew what my wife wanted and two fingers slipped effortlessly inside. She laughed and held me and humped my hand.

Jen’s voice was beginning to change so Becky stepped in.

“RULES!” she called out, and pushed out my fingers and pushed Jason away from his panting wife.

“Move On.” I said.

The next hour followed the pattern, Jen and Becky filled boxes and bags and enjoyed their husband’s touch, but also each other, and Jason was enraptured watching my wife’s fingers plunge into Jen’s lips, watching Jen suck on Becky’s nipples, and for a moment at they fell laughing on to the couch, a wonderful, but brief, 69.

By the end of the hour, Jen and Becky were joyfully naked, Jason wore only his cotton boxers, and my CK shorts strained to contain my cock.

The living room was not finished, but the couch was available for sitting, the piano for playing, and when it got colder, a fire in the fireplace would not be a disaster.

Jason had found his voice, even if it was shaky at times, and a pile of bags and boxes sat by the front door.

I looked at my watch.  “The Donation Station” is closed for the night. I guess our rewards will have to wait until tomorrow.

“NO!” all three of the others called out.

I smiled at them. Jen and Becky were holding hands, barely able to keep their hands off each other.

“What do you propose?” I asked, “rules are rules.

Jen and Jason looked at each other.

“We want to say thank you.” Jason said.

Jason took Becky’s hand and Jen took mine, and we walked back into the living room.  Jen pushed me back onto the couch and Jason helped Becky slide in beside me.

They knelt on the floor in front of us.  Jason pulled off his shorts while Jen pulled mine down and off. 

“Thank you” Jason said, “for saving us.”

Beck leaned forward and kissed him deeply, “You are welcome.”

I watched them kiss and felt Jen’s mouth return to my cock.  It was heavenly.

Jason’s tongue swirled around my wife’s tongue then down her neck and onto her nipple and Becky loved it.  I pulled Jen up to me for a kiss and whispered, “Watch them,” and directly her gaze to her husband and my wife.

“Can I?” Jen pleaded, and I leaned over so Jen could join her husband at my wife’s chest.  As she leaned, I slipped my fingers deep insider Jen’s pussy, pressing, 1, then 2, then three fingers deep inside.

I knew Becky was close and I pushed Jason’s head down between her knees and he began to eat my wife’s clit. Becky pulled Jen up for a passionate kiss and groaned into her friend’s mouth, “I’m going to cum.” Becky said.

“Cum for me” Jen replied, and she did.  Becky’s body arched and pressed harder against Jason’s mouth and Jen covered her in kisses.

As Becky’s climax ebbed, Jen pushed Jason to the floor and tasted my wife’s orgasm on his tongue. 

Close to orgasm herself, Jen mounted her husband’s cock and bounced ferociously. Becky reached in and played with her clit until Jen cried out and animalistic need and climaxed. Milk dribbled from her breasts, drool and incoherent pleasure from her mouth, and her eyes were empty, satiated, pleased, filled, finished. Jason’s seed began to ooze out and Becky reached in, scooped it out of her wet lips, and fed it to her.

Becky lifted her legs, straddled Jason’s face, and sat gently, enjoying his tongue doing lazy circles on her lips.

“Jason is your husband.” Becky said quietly.

“Yes” Jen moaned.

“You are his wife.”

“YES!” she said with happiness.

“What is your job?” Becky asked.

“To keep the house clean, the kids safe, his balls empty, and his heart full.”

“Good Girl.” Becky said.

The two women kissed deeply and held each other.

Beck and Jen slid off and exhausted Jason and we all snuggled on the clean, open floor.

We knew the kids would be home from Grandma’s soon, so Mr. Jones and I started making the “we gotta go” motions when Jen stopped Becky.

“Can we do one more thing?” Jen asked.

“What is it baby?” Becky answered.

“Can we watch you and Mr. Jones?” Jen’s hand went to her husband’s cock and stroked him lightly, “You’ve don’t so much for us.”

“And watching is what you want?” Becky asked.

Jen kissed Becky, “Yes, Please, Please Ms. Becky.”

Jen guided Becky to the couch, laid her on her back, and gently kissed her from head to toe and then back to her exposed lips.  She then kissed me, sucked lightly on my cock, and guided me with her hand inside my wife. She kneeled next to my wife, her hand dancing over her skin, her breasts, her face, as I began a slow methodical pumping. 

Jen’s hand wrapped around my cock and gathered my wife’s wetness, then she rubbed Becky’s clit as I pressed deeper and deeper.

“Kiss her.” She instructed, and I lay my whole body on my wife, Jen’s hand trapped between my cock and Becky’s clit.

“Cum for me Mr. Jones.” She said, “Cum for me Ms. Jones.”

I obliged and filled my wife with shot after shot of amazing climax.  Becky’s climax matched mine and we smiled and laughed and basked in our love and the love of our friends.

Jason covered us with a blanket and let us rest while he loaded the cars with bags and boxes, each one tied to a memory.

Curing a Hoarder - Part 3

 Part 1:  Free Advice is worth what you pay for it: Curing a Hoarder - Part 1

Part 2: Free Advice is worth what you pay for it: Curing a Hoarder - Part 2

` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` ` 

Her car was gone when I got home. No note, no dinner, no Becky. I'm not a "dinner on the table by 6:00" kind of husband, but she usually gives me a hint. Without a thought, I preheated the oven and dropped a pork loin that I had been marinating in my roasting pan and hit the button for 350F.

With an hour to kill, I cleaned my office, paid a few bills, wrote a strongly worded letter to my brother who's been putting off a visit, and then texted Becky.

I'm home, dinner in 30, pork, potatoes or rice pilaf?

A few minutes later my phone chimed.  Finish the pork then come over.

Where?

Jen's house.  We've been busy.

Intrigued, I washed the potatoes and put them in the fridge, sliced a tomato, chopped some green onions, and tossed the salad. The oven timer went off, the meat thermometer said 146, and the tinfoil covered it all. Oven off.

Ping! Wear work clothes.

Ping! And bring gloves

Ping! and the boxes...

Ping! and the black CKs I like.

The last one caught me off guard.  The CKs were my Calvin Kleins boxers. Becky loved them, snug, thin, almost like wearing nothing at all, but why were they part of the request?

Eager to find out what was going on, I packed up the 250 with the boxes, changed clothes, surprised to find myself getting hard as I dressed by request, and drove over.  Jan and Jason were only a few houses down. I pulled in and parked next to Becky's Rav 4 that was already full of boxes and stuffed black garbage bags.

Becky walked through the garage to greet me dressed in her baggy gardening shorts and a t-shirt, with no bra. Literally my favorite outfit. She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me, passionately.

She took my hand and slipped it down the front of her shorts and lifted her leg and put her foot on a box.

"You are dripping." I said, incredulous.

"We've been busy." Becky said. "Now, when you go in, it's better than before, but nowhere near done.  Just remember what it looked like last Sunday.' 

I extracted my fingers, she licked them clean, and we walked in.

The living room, was, of course, still a disaster, but it was a more organized disaster than before. 

Jen was on the couch, playing on her phone, wearing a sports bra, panties, and a small chocker that I recognized.

"Hello Jen," I said, "Your progress is impressive."

She turned off her phone and looked at Becky.  

Becky nodded and made a gesture I didn't understand.  Jen slipped off the couch and on to her knees on the floor.

"Thank you Sir," Jen said, eyes on mine, "Ms. Becky has been very helpful."

"And how do we say thank you?" Becky asked.

Jen crawled over to Becky and kissed her feet. 

"Good Girl." Becky didn't miss a beat, "Tell Mr. Jones what we have done today."

"Everything?"

"Everything." Becky patted the couch, giving Jen permission to get off the floor.

"Becky..." Jen stopped, "Ms. Becky came over and brought me Chipotle for lunch and said we were going to start my training." 

"Everything?" Jen looked at Becky.

Becky nodded yes.

"A clean house needs a clean body," Jen said, "so we went upstairs and she watched me take a shower, then she made me pump while I was naked, and then she dressed me in this." She gave her arms a flourish. "I was so wet, but she wouldn't let me do anything!  Such a tease."

"What's the rule Jen?" Becky asked.

"No Reward without work." Jen said.

"And have we been working?"

Jen looked around the living room, "Yes Ms. Becky."

"And what is the reward?"

Jen blushed deeply and fell back into the couch cushions. "ORGASMS!"

"Describe the game," Becky said as she slid over to Jen and stroked her inner thighs.

"A touch for every bag, fingers for every box, and a climax for every load to the Donation Station?"

"And how many times have trips have you made?" 

Jen's hand slipped between Becky's thighs and up under her shorts as if she owned her.

Becky's eyes rolled back in her head, and she spread wide for Jen's touch. "We are loaded up for trip #5"

"Can I make you cum Ms. Becky?" Jen moaned as her fingers came to her mouth, covered in my wife's slippery wet.

Becky pulled off her shorts revealing her shaved lips.

"Mr. Jones is going to watch." Becky said as her t-shirt this the floor, "Undress him."

Jen crawled over to me and reached for my belt buckle. I put my hand on her forehead and stopped her.

"Show me the system." I said.

"What do you want?" Jen asked.

I repeated the rules, "A touch for every bag, fingers for every box, and a climax for every load to the Donation Station."

Jen jumped up, eager to earn a reward, eager to show off her new skills.

"Towels" Becky said.

Jen walked to the hallway closet with Becky, still naked, close behind.

She opened the linen closet, stuffed with towels, new and old.

Jen pulled out an unwrapped set and looked at Becky.  "Wrapped means returnable." She handed the bundle to me, "Living room table."

I hurried back.

Jen reached to the top shelf and Becky's hand slipped between her thighs, brushing lightly over the gusset of Jen's panties.  She came down with another set, "New, Opened, Keep" they set it on the floor and Becky kissed her lightly. Another set, "Old, Usable, Donate!" 

That set earned Jen a short, but deeper kiss, and the set went in the black garbage back I was holding.

 And so it went. 

When Jen found a set of towels once owned by her Grandmother, she hesitated.  They were ratty and grey, and she held on to them.  Becky put her left hand on Jen's neck, gently pushed her against the wall, and pulled her right breast out of her bra.  Her fingertips barely grazed Jen's hard nipple.

"Fill the bag." Becky whispered.

"But grandma..." Jen sighed.

Becky's hand dropped and rubbed two circles around Jen's clit.  "Fill the bag."

"Sorry Grandma," Jen said, and I took the towels from Jen and put them in the back and whisked it away, knowing the intoxication of my wife's fingers, now inside her panties, would fade and she would want them back.  

My wife, my beautiful Becky, pulled her fingers out and licked them clean, then kissed Jenn gently.

I was hard as a rock and Becky pulled my pants off to show me to Jen.  The thin material was damp with my precum.

"With Mr. Jones' truck, we can do a few more bags..."

"And boxes!" Jen added.

Jen got to work.  A stack of blankets, some with tags, were sorted, folded, and boxed.  As I sealed the box with tape, Jen bent over the coffee table and pulled her panties down. Her lips were swollen and pink and beautiful, and my wife split them with her fingers, slowly stroking in and out, edging Jen dangerously close.  As Becky felt the first twitches of climax, she stopped, wiped her fingers off on her shirt, and pointed to another pile. Jen moaned in frustration each time.

Each bag earned a kiss, a caress, shared in both directions. Jen's mouth suckled on Becky's breast, and Becky nursed long and hard on Jen, drinking the mother's milk. When I finished a box, taping it up, labeling it, and loading it to my truck, I got a treat, a taste of Jen's milk on Becky's fingertips, my wife's hand on my cock, a chance to stroke Jen's ass, stomach, and neck, but no more.

Finally, the truck was full. Becky grabbed her keys and tossed me mine.  I went to get my pants, but Jen stopped me.  

"That's a rule, too, she said, "drive as you are."

I laughed and followed them out to the garage.

We realized that we had 2 cars and three lovers.  Jen took Becky's hand. 

"I get her on the way over," Jen said, 

"And I get her on the way back." Becky replied and they kissed.

They pulled into the donation lot right in front of me.  Becky hopped out, her engorged nipples on full display, her shorts riding low, hinting at the coin slot.  She opened the trunk and reached up, and the donation helpers couldn't help but stare.

"Student Jen!" Becky called out, "don't make these fine volunteers do your work!"

Jen stepped out and the volunteers froze.  Jen's hair danced over her shoulders, her full breasts were barely contained by her bra, and her panties hid nothing.  Jen unloaded box after box and 10 bags then held out her hand.

The young man who was "helping" could barely talk.

"A receipt please." Jen said.  

The young man shook his head, ran inside, came back, and handed it to Jen.  She shook his hand, said thank you, then pulled him close and kissed him on his forehead.  He might have cum at that very moment.

They got back in the car as if nothing happened and drove back to the house.  I pulled up to the donation area, "Did you see those two?" the young man said.

"I did," I smiled at him, "The hot one is my wife."

"Which one is that?" he asked, unable to choose.

When I pulled in, Jason's car was home.  "SHIT" I thought to myself, my pants were on the living room floor.

Jen met me in the garage and took my hand.  "Becky is talking to Jason." she said, "Everything's fine."

She led me by the hand into the living room. Jason was gently but securely tied to a chair.

Becky stood in front of him.  "Since Jason didn't help, he doesn't get a reward." she said, pulling her shirt up and over her head. "When he works, he wins." 

Jason was amazed at the progress.  He was getting his house back.  Becky told Jen to explain the rules. His only question at the end was, "How many tips have you made to the Donation Station?"  knowing what the answer meant.

"Four with Ms. Becky," Jen said as she walked over to me and kneeled on the floor, "But only one with Mr. Jones.'

She pulled my shorts down, and took me in her mouth.