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Sunday Morning - the Aftermath

The humiliation of the salon worker continues..... Part 2 of Sunday Morning
Sunday - the aftermath

I woke up Monday morning after a long night of dreams. The front of my underwear wet and sticky. Wet dreams, like a teenager. At least I was lucky in my dreams. Reality was a frustrating bitch.

My dreams starting coming back to me. I could see Mrs. Richards under me. I remember taking pleasure watching my dick push those big lips apart and then slide all the way in. She was tight and moaning. I doubt the dream was a long one. In any case, now I needed a shower and fresh underwear.

As I got out of bed and stretched, I saw her panties on the floor. The ones I stole from her yesterday. The ones she demanded back. The ones she threatened me over. She did say she wasn't through with me. I wonder what she meant by that. My dick didn't really care. He had hard thoughts of his own. If I hadn't already shot off on the crotch of those pretty expensive panties, I wouldn't be through with them.

As I got in the shower, I kept wondering why I couldn't get her off my mind. She was definitely strikingly beautiful, but I hated to see her come in. There were other women I tended to at the salon, but no one like her. She was the bitchiest, snobbiest, most demanding, most arrogant, most uppity. And I had seen and shaved several pussies, but none of the women attached to them were like her. I did not understand the hold she had on my thoughts.

She did have the absolute finest ass of all my customers. Incredible lips. Nice, pouty lips. They would open by themselves a little bit when I shaved her. And the sexiest little asshole that I could not get out of my mind. But I had never seen her tits. I pretty much knew what they looked like since she never wore a bra and I could see the outlines through whatever she happened to be wearing. She obviously didn't have a bra on yesterday. The sexy white dress had a neckline that plunged deep enough that removed any doubt about her being braless. Teasing bitch. I wanted to fuck her.

I started replaying yesterday in my mind as I started my shower. So much of it didn't make sense to me. She walks in with her hair, makeup, dress, and shoes all impeccably done. Looking like the absolute finest upper class piece of ass. But she comes in with a fucked pussy for me to clean. The fact that the rest of her was so well groomed made me understand that it was something she did to me personally. Humiliation, meanness, or just the way she got her kicks. And not just her pussy. She had cum tracks down to her asshole. Didn't look like she had been fucked there, but obviously cum had run down to there. She didn't bother to wipe up before she came in. And she used my ill-advised comment to make me kiss her ass with the tracks on it. Made me put my tongue in her ass. She spread her ass open to get me in deeper. And made me lick her used pussy. And put my tongue in there. Frustration and anger started setting in.

She was getting off on what she was doing to me. I remembered her pussy pouring juices out. When I put my tongue in her ass, her pussy pretty much sucked my nose in. Her juices flooded my nose. It was like trying to breathe with my nose stuck in a bowl of salty syrup. I could still smell her still.

I didn't know how long it had been since I came in dream, but my thoughts had my dick awake and stretching. As I was drying off from my shower, he was looking straight up at me demanding attention. I picked her panties up and tried to wrap them around myself, but remembered that I had cum on the crotch of them last night. I put them aside and started getting ready for work, hoping that the hard feelings would pass soon.

But my mind kept replaying yesterday as I continued getting ready. She looked and sounded pissed when I stopping licking to breathe. She really enjoyed telling me to kiss her ass. French kiss her asshole. She enjoyed telling me she had been fucked and I was to clean her up. She enjoyed telling me that I was getting her ready to be fucked again by some young guy.

I wondered how much her young guy and her husband knew about her actions. She told me she had let her husband fuck her the night before she came in and had the physical evidence between her legs to prove it. But that wasn't enough. She went to go fuck some young guy when she left the salon and told me so. I couldn't help being jealous of the guy. The way her pussy mound stood out from her flat belly told me she probably had the muscles inside to really grip a dick.

And she knew how to cum. After rubbing the lotion on, she literally poured juice from her pussy as I used the massager on her. I remembered the way she lifted her ass up as she came. And poured more juice. And made me lick it up. But truth was, she had the sexiest, womanliest smell and taste. But then I remembered that she hadn't cleaned her pussy since being fucked and I got pissed again.

I wondered how she handled her evening without panties. She wanted to impress the young guy, and I'll bet she did. I kept imagining her being fucked, wondering if she took her dress off or what. I took pleasure in imagining that she had to drive home afterward with her pussy leaking onto the fine leather in her Mercedes, and maybe even on her expensive little dress. I'll bet she cleans her ass up before she sees her husband again.

After dropping my little brother off at school, I went on to work at the mill. I kept trying my best to focus on work, but she kept interrupting my thoughts. Finally, I got to break for lunch. As I ate my sandwich in my car, I noticed a missed call on my phone. And a voice mail. I played the message. A job offer from an electronics company. Maybe things were looking up.

I applied at Secure Electronics several months ago, but didn't really expect to hear from them. Lots of people wanted to work there and I didn't think they would consider me since I didn't have connections to get me in. I was qualified, but it's who you know, not what you know. If I got this job, I could get away from this mill. I would still have to keep my second job though. But I would be bettering my life and myself.

I called back and made an appointment for an interview Tuesday morning. Tuesday? That's tomorrow. The mill foreman was a difficult and mean man, so I didn't ask for time off. I decided to call in sick tomorrow.

Tomorrow came, and I made sure I looked my professional best when I went in for the interview. Mr. White, the store manager, conducted the interview and hired me on the spot. I felt like I was on the top of the world, and Mrs. Richards had not been on my mind since yesterday. Until now, anyway.

I don't understand it, but she popped back into my mind on the drive home. Same old thoughts. Lust for that luscious ass sitting on top of those long legs, then anger and frustration over the way she made me her personal pussy cleaner and ass kisser. I got pissed again thinking about the way she called me her ass kisser, her salon boy.

I was in deep thought when my phone rang. The salon. What did they want at noon on Tuesday? As far as they knew, I was working at the mill. Still, I answered it. "You better get over here," John--the salon owner--said. "We have a serious problem that requires your presence now". My luck. One minute I'm mentally celebrating my new job, the next I have a serious problem at my part time job.

Her Mercedes' presence in the parking lot alarmed me. "What is she doing here", I muttered to myself. I couldn't help but fear that she had something to do with the situation that required my presence.

John was waiting for me when I walked in. He escorted me into his office. I walked in to find her sitting in the office. "Hello, Mrs. Richards", I said. "Always a pleasure to see you. I hope that you are doing well today".

She didn't say anything, but stood up and looked down at me with some sort of sadistic glee in her eyes. I knew whatever was coming was going to be enjoyable for her and miserable for me.

John walked in behind me and closed the door. He walked around behind his desk and sat down in his chair. He motioned for me to sit down and I did so. "We have a situation," John said. "Mrs. Richards had some personal property stolen Sunday. We want to give you a chance to tell us what you know about it."

Then it hit me. The panties. But she had no real proof that I took them. The look in her eyes told me that she was up to something though. "I don't know what you are talking about", I stuttered. I'm pretty sure that everyone in the room knew I was lying.

"We've got you on security video taking the property," John said. "So please don't deny it again. Mrs. Richards wants her property back now, or she is filing charges with the police. Do you understand? She wants her property back now."

"I understand. Can I go get it and bring it to her?"

Finally, she spoke. "Where are they? Where are my panties? The ones you stole from me by stuffing them down your pants. The ones you lied to me about, remember? You said you didn't know where they were. But you do know, don't you? So tell me, where are they?"

"They are at my house. I will go get them and bring them to you this afternoon."

"I don't trust you. So we will all go to your house and get them. John, myself, and you. All of us. Now."

Not much I could say, so I walked out with her and John behind me. I got into my car, she got into hers, and John got into his. As I pulled out of the parking lot, my mind raced. I would have liked to washed the panties before returning them, but that wasn't going to happen. My face was getting red from the thoughts of the embarrassment that surely lay ahead. My hands shook from worry that I would lose the salon job. I kept hoping for a miracle as we pulled into my driveway. What sort of miracle, I didn't know. I just knew it was going to take one to get me out of this.

We all walked into my house and I froze in the living room. I just couldn't let them into my bedroom and see the panties lying in floor. The both looked at me, obviously expecting me to show them to the panties. John finally reminded me that it was going to be a police matter if I didn't cooperate. So I led them into my bedroom. There they were, on my bedroom floor. She looked at me with a sneer of superiority.

"Pick them up and hand them to me," she demanded. I did so, and she went on. "So that's what you did. You jacked off on my panties. And on the crotch, too. A little personal message from you? You panty-stealing salon boy."

"They already had cum all over the crotch when I got them. You told me so."

"But you obviously added yours. If need be, I can have the police investigate. Plenty of DNA on these, it looks like. Then a sex crime will be added on top of the petty theft charge. So I'm asking you for the last time. Did you jack off on my panties?"

I tried hard to keep my composure and think. But I was failing miserably. Charges would most certainly keep me from the new job and get me fired from my old ones. She wins.

"Yes, Mrs. Richards. You are right. That's what I did."

"No, not like that. Tell me what you did. Exactly what you did."

"I took your panties and I jacked off onto them."

There. I said it. She won. I felt like I would die of embarrassment. John looked shocked. She just looked sadistically smug.

"So glad you confessed. Now, I need to know if you are willing to make restitution to me. And pay for damages."

"Yes ma'am. I will replace your panties with new ones."

"Okay. And damages. My time is valuable. And you have violated my personal property. And for that, you will pay."

She had me. I knew it. I just dropped my head and said okay.

"Good," she said. She turned to John. "John, please excuse us while we work the terms of restitution out. We will come by your office after we have come to an agreement."

With that, John walked out the door. She just looked at me with her uppity, mean, sneering look. I felt very uneasy as I heard John's car leaving my driveway.

"I don't have much money," I said. "So please let me make payments to you. I will pay you. Just give me a chance."

"Restitution is not a financial thing. I want those panties replaced. They cost me sixty dollars. And my time and the violation of personal property is worth about twenty thousand dollars."

"But I don't have it. I live check to check. Please."

"Please? You shouldn't have done the crime, if you can't pay the fine. I want my new panties, and my money."

"But I don't have money. Please work with me. Let me make payments. "

She looked at me, obviously gloating and enjoying my pain. "I don't want payments. So you will have to get my money. And keep me amused until you do have my money."

'Keep her amused?' I thought. So, was she offering me a way out, of sorts? Whatever it was, I had to grab it.

"Yes ma'am, Mrs. Richards. Thank you. Thank you so much. I will gladly keep you amused while I find a way to get the money."

"Well good. And you can start now."

"Yes, ma'am. What can I do? Thank you again."

"First of all, keep that attitude. Second, you can perform your services again. You see, I haven't been home since I left the salon on Sunday. My meeting with the young man went so well I stayed there until this morning. My husband comes home tonight and I will need to be fresh for him."

So that's it. Humiliation and sexual deviation. So that's what she wants. I began to notice her appearance. She was wearing the same shoes and dress that she wore Sunday. Her hair and makeup weren't the same, probably neglected. But she was still beautiful.

Anyway, it's what I had to do. "Okay. Let's go back to the salon and I will do it."

"I have a better idea. Do it here. You do have soap, hot water, and towels, don't you?"

"I do. Lie back on the bed and I will get started."

"Actually, I don't want to touch your bed. It's a mess and no telling what you've been doing in it. Your housekeeping is not that good. I mean, you've got stolen dirty panties on your floor that you have obviously jacked off on. So I don't want to touch your bed."

"Okay then, how about having a seat on the couch? I can do it in there."

"I don't think so. I don't think your couch is any cleaner than your bed. As a matter of fact, I'm a little skeptical of the cleanliness of the whole place. So, I'll tell you what. You lay down on the floor. I will bring your work to you."

This was getting worse by the minute. "Let me get towels and a wet bath cloth."

"You have clean ones? Show me."

She followed me into the bathroom and I realized that I didn't have any clean ones. Laundry hamper was overflowing. Now what?

"Just as I thought. You wanted to clean me up with dirty towels? You wanted to wipe me with a towel that probably has your cum on it? I don't think so."

What do I do now? What can I do? "It's not like that," I said. " I didn't realize that they were all needing washed. I'm sure there's one in there that has been used only for a hand towel."

"Oh no," she replied. "That won't do at all. Tell you what. Lay down on your bedroom floor. You will clean me up."

So I did it. I went back into the bedroom and lay down on the floor. She walked over to me and looked down on me. Hands on her hips, she put one foot on either side of my head. From my vantage point, I could see up her little white dress. Sure enough, no panties. Above her dress, I could still see her face looking down on me with sadistic glee.

She started lowering herself down toward my face by squatting. Legs spread, knees up. I saw that her used pussy was open. Gaped, you might say. Looking at the gape, I found it very easy to believe that she had been on a 2 day fuckfest. She stopped lowering when she got down to a few inches above my face. "Take a good look. As you can see, I can't go home like this. Hubby will be able to tell what I've been doing." That was an understatement. Cum rings around her pussy hole. Cum rings around her asshole. Her whole underneath was a mess. Looking at the gape, I couldn't help but wonder if the stretched holes weren't going to give her secret away. Even her cum-ringed asshole had a little gape to it. And her pussy was now wet, even dripping just a bit. Obviously, she got a sexual charge from what she was doing to me.

She lowered herself on down and placed her pussy right on my mouth. "Okay, salon boy. Do your job. Get your tongue out and see if you can earn yourself a little slack from me." I flat-tongued her pussy, tasting and smelling her salty, sex hole. Her juices were running now and I'm sure my face was red from embarrassment. I continued licking her puffy lips. Licking her from the tip of her clit to the bottom of her used hole. She grabbed my head and moved her dripping box across my face. After I had covered the entire area, she centered her open hole on my tongue. "Now clean the inside. Put your tongue inside me."

I pushed my tongue in. Very little resistance from her, so I went way in. She made a few grunts and started breathing deep. As she started moving up and down, I could see her white pussy cream building up on her lips. She was literally fucking my tongue, and grinding her pussy on my face. And this went on for a while. A long while. My tongue and jaw were hurting, but I knew better than to complain. Finally, I felt her starting to do a whole body shudder. Her creamy juices were starting to taste a little differently, and I did my best not to wonder what that meant. She still had my head in her hands and roughly pulled me as far she could into her. Her squatting position kept her short white dress held above her pussy but let it drape over the sides and back. All I could see was her sparse pubic hair, flat belly, and the inside of those thighs. But I could sure hear her. "Oh yeah. Oh shit, yeah. Do your job. Do your job. Keep your tongue in there. Do it, boy. " I felt her stiffen, then shake. Then stop.

After a few minutes, she leaned forward and looked down at me. She began standing up and I got the relief of putting my tongue back in my mouth. Pussy juice and cream were everywhere. On my face, in my hair. And between her legs. "Looks like you are backing up," she giggled. "You've got more to do now than when you started." She walked in the other room and I heard the refrigerator open. A few seconds later, I heard the front door open and close.

I got up and stretched my tired body. This was getting old. How long would I have to do this? I had other things I needed to do. But she had me over a barrel, so to speak. I couldn't run the risk of theft charges, and certainly not some sort of sexual criminal charge. I sat down on the couch and did my best to think of something to get me out of this.

She walked back in and gave me the icy bitch stare. "What are you doing in here? I didn't tell you to get up. Get back to your position on your bedroom floor." Since my brain had failed to come up with an escape plan, I did as I was told.

She walked over to me, and again placed one foot on either side of my head. She began the familiar process of lowering herself onto me in the squatting position, legs spread, knees point upward. But this time, she centered her asshole right on my mouth.

"Kiss my ass, panty thief. Kiss it good. Lick me good." I flat-tongued her, hoping to avoid putting my tongue into her ass. She moved her ass back and forth on my tongue, making me lick from the tip of her ass crack to bottom of her pussy. "That's it. You enjoy this, don't you? Don't answer, keep your tongue on the job at hand. I can tell you enjoy this. I'll bet you have a bulge in your pants. You like your work, don't you salon boy." She began shifting her ass from side to side, as well as front to back.

She continued for what seemed like forever. Her breathing became deep again and her ass movements became shorter. She kept my tongue pretty much right on her asshole and started moaning. "Okay, panty thief. I need more than just my ass kissed. French kiss my ass. Now." I pointed my tongue onto her asshole and pushed. She grabbed her ass cheeks and pulled them apart. And my tongue went in. Lots further than I expected. Then I remembered the little gape I saw on it earlier. Obviously, she had been stretched.

"Oohh! Yeah. That's it. Do it, my ass-kissing, panty-thieving salon boy."

She began grinding herself onto my face. Her open pussy swallowed my nose. Her creamy juices were flowing. Hard to breathe, but I knew I had to make do. Stopping or complaining would most likely incur her wrath.

"Kissing my ass got you horny?'

She was right. I was horny. I didn't understand why, but I was definitely horny. "My, my. You are horny, aren't you? I'm turning you on. You should be turned on. You get to kiss my ass. Not just any ass, my ass.

The whole ordeal brought major sensory overload to my brain. The taste of her ass drove me sexually crazy but the idea of what she was doing to me pissed me off. Her pussy smell and the copious amount of creamy juice made me want to fuck her so bad, but the thought of what she had been doing the last two days made me want to throw her off me. Such irony. A fine ass that normally I would have paid money to see attached to a teasing, uppity, rich cunt of a woman.

Her body tremors started again, so hopefully we were getting close to completion. She shook, stiffened, and began verbal abuse. "Oh shit. You son of a bitch. Oh shit. Do it. Kiss me, lick me. Tongue fuck my ass." She grabbed my head again, pulled it hard to her, and pushed her ass down hard on my face. My nose was inside her pussy, my tongue inside her asshole, and my mouth completely sealed off by her ass. I held my breath for what seemed like forever, but finally she loosened her grip on my head and shifted her ass back and sat down on my chest. After a few more minutes, her breathing settled down and she looked down on me.

"Well, you did gain some ground. My ass is much better. My husband can see my ass now. Good job." She went on "But my pussy is not ready for him. There is white cream and sticky juice all over it. You aren't through, salon boy."

She stood up and looked down on me. She looked down on me a lot, and in more than one way. Anyway, she looked at the bulge in my pants and then back at my face. "You really are horny. You like this? You like tending to my ass? Sure you do. Now pull it out. I want to see it. Show me your hard dick."

I wrestled with my pants button and zipper, and I finally got him out. And he was standing straight up. Hard as blue steel. "Oh, my my. So you like getting me ready. That's nice."

She began lowering herself onto my face again, but this time she was facing my dick. Looking up, all I could see was her ass under her dress coming down. "So finish the job. Lick the cream and sticky juice off. Take care of me now. Do your job." With that, she planted her pussy on my face and her dress covered my head.

My thoughts ran wild. Maybe she was going to help me out. So many times I've imagined her lips around my dick. Would she do it? Why else would she be facing that way? In any case, I started licking again with my hopes held high.

I did my job. I flat-tongued her pussy again. I got all the cream off, all the sticky juice. I scooped and sucked her pussy, and licked the inside of her lips. I did it with gusto, hoping to feel her mouth around my dick, hoping for relief. Relief that never came. She finally raised her ass up a few inches and I put my aching tongue back in my mouth. Under that dress, she still smelled like she had been on a two day fuck, even if she did look better now.

"Jack off for me. Show me what you did with my panties. Show me now."

I felt her putting something in my hand. I realized it was the panties.

"Do it. Show me how you defiled my panties"

So I started rubbing my dick with her panties. I couldn't see anything but her ass and pussy. The little white dress kept some of the light out, but I could still see just the same. And the sight of her added fuel to my fire of lust. I wanted to fuck this bitch so bad. In her pussy, in her ass. I wanted to pound her ass and imagined her having trouble taking it. I wanted to leave a cum ring around both her holes and send her home with a messy ass. I wanted her to suck my dick. But she didn't, and I kept rubbing, completely lost in my thoughts. I finally came, shooting hard. Her panties got some of it, some of it shot across the room. As I was calming down, I noticed a little drip of pussy moisture hanging on her lips by her hole. I reached up and licked it off. If she saw it, I would have to lick the whole thing again.

She stood up and looked down at me with her smirk. "You have amused me this afternoon. This buys you a little time to gather my money for me. In the mean time, have my panties cleaned at the dry cleaners. And bring the paid receipt to show me when you return my panties. My panties must be listed on the receipt. No funny business."

"It's four, so I don't have time to go back by John's office. Just tell him you and I are working something out. Husband will be home soon and I need a shower."

She walked out the door. I heard her Mercedes start up and leave my driveway. Finally. She's gone. I realized that little brother will be getting home soon, so I straightened quickly, washed my face, then headed down to John's office.

I walked in, and John did not look happy.

"Where is Mrs. Richards?"

"She had to hurry home. She told me to tell you that we had worked something out."

"Really? She told me that if you came back without her, then I was to fire you. If you become a problem, then I am to turn the security video over to the police. So, my friend, are you going to be a problem?"

Realization started setting in. I've been had. That bitch. She fucked me over again. Set me up, fucked me over. That's all I could think about as I got into my car to leave. That bitch, that bitch, that bitch....

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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