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Tanya Gets Laid. Round Four

"I didn't see this coming."

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I stood up in the bath, water dripping off my naked body. The spa jets still creating surging waters beneath me. That personalised ring tone Andrew had insisted on putting on my iPhone. Corny. Tacky. Horrible. But, still, I stood up, obediently, ready to answer it. But being well brought up, manners wise, I couldn’t bring myself to step out of the bath and run across the carpet to answer it. Not dripping wet.

I remember thinking to myself, Damn! I forgot to call home earlier! I was too pre-occupied thinking about seeing Dale again tonight. Too pre-occupied about what I should or would wear.

I just stood there.

Dale spoke. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” This was said as the message tone sounded.

“Aw Fuck… no.” I whispered more than spoke.

“Why?”

“Because you are here! How can I talk to HIM whilst I’m here in a spa with you?”

“So?” Dale questioned me, looking at me as though I was the weird one.

I literally lost my cool. “Dale, that was my husband! How the hell can I talk to him when you have just licked me out? It’s not your fucking wife on the phone...” and I stepped out of the bath and reached for one of the thick brown towels on the rack beside the bath to start drying myself.

“So what?” Dale’s coldness surprised me. “Just ring him back and get back in here with me,” he said as he hit the off button and the burbling waters stilled.

“Fuck you!” I almost shouted.

“Tanya, calm down, he’ll never know.” This I believe was meant to be re-assuring, but to me it wasn’t.

“What? How can you be so fucking calm? You’re married too! It’s not your wife on the phone!”

“Just ring him back and get back here.”

This was a moment of realisation for me. To Dale, I wasn’t a person. I was a merely a piece of female meat. Someone to use, for his pleasure. Someone I had given my body to, far too easily. Someone, whom despite his initial compassionate and good humoured nature wasn’t interested in anyone but himself.

How could I be so stupid?
my brain asked itself.

With that self-questioning, the affair was over.

I stood there, drying my nude body. Only wanting to get to my phone to ring Andrew. I pictured what might be happening at home. Perhaps Nina might be ill? My ill father might be back in hospital? A myriad of tortures went through my mind.

“Tanya. Get your arse back here,” Dale commanded.

“Fuck you!” was my venom filled response.

“If you don’t, I’m warning you, you will be sorry.”

I stopped towelling myself. I looked at Dale in disbelief. “Sorry? What?”

“Yes Tanya, sorry,” Dale calmly replied, still looking relaxed, sitting in the corner spa. “Now get your arse back in here, now, or you will forever regret not doing as you are told.”

“Fuck you!” I said again, louder than before.

“No fuck you. Yes, I have and yes I will again,” Dale smugly replied.

I was beginning to get nervous and headed towards my dishevelled clothing.

“Tanya, come back here, or Andrew will find out all about your little adventure here in Mildura and you can kiss your little perfect marriage good-bye. You are nothing but a slut and from here on, you are my slut.”

Holding the towel in front of my still nude body, I turned to face Andrew. “You prick! How will Andrew ever find out about you screwing me? I thought we were friends? What are you talking about?” I was babbling really, not certain what to say next.

“Tanya, I know who you are. Whilst you were sleeping last night, snoring actually,” he said with a smug look on his face. “I photographed your driver’s licence with my phone camera. Your surname is McDonald and you live in Hurstville, although the street name escapes me at the moment. So get your arse back in here now, or Andrew finds out everything. And by the way, I think you screwed me as much as I screwed you, not that I’m complaining.”

I stood there shocked. I just stared at this man. This man I had given myself too. Too easily. Far too easily. Moments passed, it seemed like forever, but it was only moments. Seconds. Not minutes.

Andrew arose from the now very still bath waters. He stood there. His dick at least half erect. He stepped out of the bath onto the tiles beside it.

“Tanya, bring your towel over here and dry me please.

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I have a task for you.”

I didn’t move, I didn’t move the towel covering my front. I just stood there.

“If you don’t come over here now Tanya…” Dale spoke again. “Andrew will find out and your perfect little marriage will be over. Andrew will realise he married an easy slut and cast you aside. Now get over here and be a good girl and towel me dry.”

My mouth was dry, but my body was sweating. Shocked, I could not move. How could this be happening to me?

“I think it’s Number 33, now what’s that Avenue name again, ”Bornie, Borne, Borden… something like that?” Dale mused quietly, but loud enough for me to hear, as was his intention.

“What do you want?” I said, sounding calm but dealing with insurmountable turmoil inside, my pulse racing, my stomach churning, my mind in overload.

“You Tanya, just you.” was Dale’s quiet but emphatic and controlled and controlling reply. “I’m getting cold, come over here and dry me please, before I catch my death.”

Still, I just stood there. Dry skin, but frozen to the spot.

“Now!” I heard sharply and loudly.

Defeated, I moved towards Dale and outstretched my hands with the towel for his use.

He didn’t take it. He stood there, his arms by his side, but his penis now fully erect.

“I didn’t ask you for the towel Tanya. I asked you to dry me.”

I stared at him. Contemptuously. Full of disgust, full of hate. But, I complied and moved a step closer and began to dry his dripping wet body.

“Now that’s a good bitch,” I heard. “Dry me properly and we might just start becoming good friends again Tanya McDonald”

I shuddered as he mentioned my surname. I felt so exposed. So at risk. My mind raced. How could this have happened? How could this have happened to me?

At last he was completely dry. I stood rigid in front of him. “Can I go now?”

“Go?" He looked surprised. “Of course you cannot go. You started this when you wanted to drink with me after dinner last night, so no, you cannot go.”

He was twisting what happened last night. It was he who approached me. Not the other way around. The sanctimonious prick!

“I really enjoyed that blow job earlier. Give me another.”

I am about Dale’s height and I stand less than two feet in front of him and stare contemptuously at his now very cruel looking eyes and expressionless face.

We stood there for what seemed like forever. Our eyes interlocked. His in command. Mine stubborn.

“Dale,” was all I could bring myself to say.

“Tanya, I have told you what to do,” he very calmly replied. “Do it, or Andrew finds out.”

With that, Dale outstretched his arms and put the palms of his hands on my shoulders and pushed downwards, my knees buckling to this physical command.

Once on my knees, Dale pushed his cock towards my mouth, beaten, I open my lips to receive it. How did I let this happen to me? I recall thinking.

As I moved my mouth up and down on his throbbing cock, I remember a flashback to my nineteenth year on Earth. I was in the back seat of my Father’s BMW, it was around midnight and I gave a ride home from a night club to Brett Stephenson, my then Boss’s son. A year younger than me, I thought I would make sure he got home safe, but that night, somehow, I was blowing him too and that was the first head job I ever gave. Until now, even though I had had too much to drink, until we stopped off in a parking lot, I can’t remember to this day whose idea it was, but I was driving the car, in what I had until now at least, thought was my stupidest night alive.

That evening Brett came quickly, as any eighteen-year old is likely to do, and I struggled to contain all his semen inside my mouth. I tried my hardest as I had read in a teen magazine about semen staining forever leather seats, and I couldn’t risk leaving a clue in Dad’s three-month old car.

Brett and I never spoke again post that night. Our eyes avoided each other whenever we did meet.

So here I was blowing a man I hadn’t met until last night. His cock in my mouth. Me on my knees. His hands on my head, pulling me further and further onto his hard cock until I was beginning to gag.

For the second time that evening Dale came in my mouth. I thought about pulling back but Dale just held my head firmer and pulled my mouth even deeper onto his cock. Despite my gagging and spitting, most of it landed in the back of my throat and was swallowed.
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Written by Hetaurus
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