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
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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 full 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, passionatly.
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.
Beck 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.