Paying the Rent Pt. 03

It had been just over three months since he'd first given in to her. Initially they had avoided seeing each other in person, to let their feelings subside. But then, at his request, she had come to him once again. They had resumed their previous game; he would choke her and they would enjoy the closeness of each other when she gave in to the darkness. On one of her visits she had taken him by surprise when she kissed him, and though he got caught up in the moment and briefly returned her kiss, he wasn't ready for another encounter. It was partly guilt, and partly because her husband was still in town. He knew for certain when they next went into the room he wanted to take it further, which meant her husband needed to be out of town again to give her body time to recover. She had confessed that it had taken eight days for her to completely heal. Thankfully she took his rejection well enough, and had not pursued him since that one kiss. They had socialised on several double dat

Author's note: All characters over eighteen. Part 3 of 6. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER 13 Orange light from nowhere hangs above. Our shoes sit in a pile next to the oversized tub, except for one of my sister's that's exiled in front of the bathroom door. I thread in the metal screw, and the cork bursts out with a bright pop. Several fingers of red splash into two stemless wine glasses, and I hand one to my sister. She clinks my glass and we sip. She wraps the towel around herself. But not really. She's wields it more like a cloak. Then my sister pulls hard from her drink. She stares at me over the rim, and a smile creeps across her lips. "I need your help with something." She sets the glass next to the open bottle by her bag on the table. I stare into the green. She looks at my drink, then back at me. The remainder of my wine departs, and I clang the glass next to hers. She rips off her towel and throws it against the TV, then tears the covers off the nearer of the

As I write this, I have no idea what the future holds, but I know this: my relationship with my mother will never be the same. I now realize that what happened between us last night was inevitable, but I have such conflicting and confused feelings. We have to talk about it, but Mom has been avoiding me. Readers will soon understand why. I graduated from college about six weeks ago, my whole life ahead of me at only 22. I'll be moving to the D.C. area in October, when I have an internship at a political consulting firm. In the meantime, I planned to take the summer off. Dad and the twins were visiting his family in Alaska. Mom decided to stay home with me, no doubt to keep me from wrecking the place. Mom (do I still call her that?) is 43, but easily looks ten years younger. We come from an active family, and we like to work out and play tennis whenever we can get a court. With her rich, thick, flowing black hair, those shapely tapered legs, and squeezable breasts, the men can'

Another big thanks to LAHomeDog and to ResJack for editing! ------------ Thursday. It was the first day of the week without Amy around to drain my balls. I woke up rock hard but didn't jerk off since I had a lot of work to catch up on. By midday, that had proven to be a mistake, as I was uncomfortably erect for almost the entire morning. I texted Amy several times with no response. Even checking in on social media to see if she was posting anything about her day, but it was just silence. I briefly considered jerking off in the wellness room without her, but even though we fucked in there constantly, masturbating at work without her now somehow felt wrong. Fortunately, I had a couple of afternoon meetings, so my mind was distracted. That was until the last one where my phone buzzed with a response from Amy. "You better not jerk off while I'm gone ;)" I was already hard just reading that, but it was nothing compared to what came next. "Went shopping today, what d

The morning flashed by, a pure lingerie shoot, I lost count of the different bra and panties I'd worn. Mark was on hand, clipping and unclipping my bra, pulling my knickers down on occasions, buckling shoes, unbuckling shoes. It was glamorous. I loved it. I loved it, but I couldn't but help think of the afternoon to come. "Sorry love," I said to Mark, "those are a bit wet." "You need to stop thinking about this afternoon's shoot, and concentrate on this mornings," Mark said. Linda handed me the pair of purple knickers she had just taken off, there was a wet patch in the gusset. "You need to stop thinking about this afternoon's shoot, and concentrate on this mornings," I said. Linda was my Mum. My Mum was a model, called Linda. I now worked for her, as her assistant, which was a secret, only the photographer I used to work for, and Mum had done her first modelling assignment for knew. And here I was watching her strip and holding