Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Sharon sat at the bar of her favorite restaurant waiting for her husband Bob to arrive. He had sent her a surprise text message earlier today saying they had a reservation for 7 pm and she should meet him there. But here it is, 7:45, and still no Bob. The maître d’ gave her table away fifteen minutes ago. Not that Sharon could blame him; after all, it is Valentines Day, one of the busiest nights of the year. Gulping down the last of her Shiraz, Sharon pulls her phone off the bar and calls her husband one last time. The call goes to voicemail after four rings and hearing the sound of his voice just pisses her off even more.
“Bob, this is the last message I am going to leave you. I am sitting here like a complete fool, waiting on you. Again, your work wins, and I am left all alone. Whatever you are doing that is more important than spending time with me, you can keep doing it. Don’t come home. I swear to god, I am so angry right now, it would not be in your best interest to come home tonight.” Sharon hangs up the phone and slaps a $50 bill on the bar.
Her angry steps echo down the corridor until she is face to face with the coat check girl; shoving a ticket in her face. The poor girl, who is probably no older than nineteen, is terrified of the woman before her. She retrieves Sharon’s coat quickly and waives her along when she tries to pay. Sharon thanks the girl and exits the crowded restaurant without putting her coat on. The frigid February weather is no match for the heat radiating off of her.
Bob walks into his office and plugs in his dead phone into the charging station on his desk. He uses his desk phone to call his wife, to let her know that he is going to be late. He knows that at ten minutes to eight, their table would surely be gone, but he wants to make it up to her somehow. He has been working on a major project lately and time seems to slip away from him over and over again over the past few weeks. Sharon has voiced her displeasure and has become increasingly annoyed with eating dinner alone and hardly ever seeing her husband. After two rings, he is sent to voicemail. That’s not a good sign, Bob thinks to himself. He knows that a missed call take at least four rings, so she must be deliberately avoiding his calls.
Bob turns his cell phone on but leaves it on the charger. He then listens to the voicemail that Sharon left a few minutes earlier and curses at the ceiling in frustration. He fucked up, again.
How that hell was he going to fix this?
Could he fix this?
And where the hell was he supposed to sleep? These were the thoughts running through Bob’s head as he tried to come up with a plan.
Noting the time and location of the restaurant, Bob had an idea. He picks up his desk phone and calls friend of his. He goes over his plan, and having been there a time or two himself, his friend was happy to help a fellow fuck up, get out of the dog house. This had to work. If Bob was going to make it up to Sharon, his impromptu plan would have to work.
Sharon was a mile down the road when the tell tale sign of police lights illuminates her interior. She notes the speed and realizes that she is in fact ten miles over the limit, but on this major road people are hardly pulled over for it. Sharon rolls her eyes and gently pulls off to the side of the road. Just as she removes her seatbelt and reaches over to the glove box, she hears the harsh sound of the patrol cars PA system blaring around her.
“Driver! Put your hands on the wheel and don’t move.”
Sharon sits up straight and places her hands on the wheel. Through the side mirror she watches an officer approach the drivers side door and pop open the car door. His hand set firmly on his gun holster as he did so.
“Out of the car, ma’am.” The police officer demands.
Sharon immediately complies, without hesitation. Her nerves are on edge and she is freighted by the officer’s abrasive tone. He grabs Sharon by the upper arm and walks her to the patrol car. The headlights are blinding her as she approaches. From the silhouette she knows there is another person in he car but she can’t make out anything other than a dark shadow from where she is.
“Hands on the hood,” the officer insists.
“Could you tell me what I did? I know I was-“
“Shut up!” the officer yells. “You don’t get to ask the questions here. We have been looking for you for a long time.”
Sharon begins to stand up, not knowing what he means by that statement, but the officer holds his arm over her back.
“Stop resisting, ma’am”
“But I think there is a mistake here. Who do you think I am?”
“Oh we know who you are. You may have gotten away from us once, but we won’t let you escape again. In fact…” The officer’s voice trails off as he places a blindfold over her eyes. When the blindfold is in place, Sharon hears a car door pop open and the crunching of gravel alerts her that the officer who was inside the car, is close.
“Please. Call my husband. He will tell you-“
“I said shut up,” the officer scolds again. “Not another word or we will gag you as well. Open your legs so we can pat your down.”
Sharon thought this was a very odd practice but she didn’t dare argue again. She wanted to get this over with, without pissing them off further. She knew once Bob found out what was happening, he would rip these men a new ass for treating his wife with such disrespect. This is clearly a case of mistaken identity, and whoever they think she was, this was going to be bad.
Sharon can hear, officer one, walking away by the sound of his boots against the gravel, trailing off. She hears the patrol car door close and the sound of tires crunching gravel, then asphalt. Panic starts to bubble up in her chest as she feels, officer two’s, hands on her body. She knew protocol was to call a female officer but she didn’t dare speak on it. She is alone with this man and fearful that he is just as mean as his partner. This officer hasn’t yet spoken to her and she doesn’t want to rock the boat, so Sharon remains stoic while the officer pats her shoulders, back, stomach, and inner thighs, just above the knee.
The officer gently pulls Sharon’s hands behind her back and clicks on he cuffs, one at a time. The officer gently pulls on her upper arm and guides her to the backseat of her car. As he slides her inside, he places his hand on her head so she doesn’t hit it on the doorframe. Even though Sharon can’t see him, there is something familiar and safe about the way he touches her.
As she sits in the back of the car, Sharon tries to plead her case to the unknown officer. She rambles off how this is all a mistake and she wants to call her husband, but the officer doesn’t respond. When the car stops, the officer opens the door and escorts Sharon into a newly renovated police station. Sharon can smell the scent of fresh paint and sawdust. She lets the police officer navigate her along as her heals click on the tile floor. She hears keys jingling and locked doors open and close. She is sure she is headed to a holding cell but just before she can protest, the officer removes her cuffs. Sharon stills for a moment and waits for further instructions, but none come; and before she can remove the blindfold to see the man, he is out the door.
Sharon carefully removes the blindfold off her head and places it on the metal table in the middle of the room. She looks around and realizes she is in an interrogation room; that much she can tell. The room is painted grey and sparsely decorated with photos you would find in any office building. There is hardly any furniture other than a metal table and 4 metal chairs. Under the one way mirror, there is a small table with nothing more than a coffee pot and a small fridge underneath. Sharon opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water before leaning against the metal table. Her lips wrap around the bottle and she sips on the cold liquid, needing something to quench her thirst as she ponders her next move. Sharon’s previous anger for her husband has multiplied ten fold. If he had just come to the restaurant like he was supposed to, this wouldn’t be happening. Just as she replaces the bottle cap something dawns on her.
Bob stood behind the glass and watched his wife with admiration. She defiantly took her time getting ready tonight. Her dark brown hair is done in a swept updo and her makeup is flawless; from her smoky black eyes to her ruby red lips. His eyes are drawn down to her full breasts that are no doubt exaggerated by her pushup bra. Her dark blue wrap dress hangs beautifully over her curvy frame and falls just above the knee. As she leans against the table, the slit in the front of her dress reveals the lacy tops of her black stockings. With her feet planted in those silver shoes he likes, her long legs seem to go on forever.
Sharon, simply standing there, makes Bob’s dick harden. She always has had this effect on him. Even after fifteen years of marriage, his wife was still the sexiest woman he had ever laid eyes on. Bob sat in the chair, behind the glass, and pressed a few buttons to the intercom system. The city had spared no expense when they were building the new police headquarters. Bob being the developer on the project had made sure every penny was stretched to the max in order to get nothing but the best technology money could buy. He figured if this project took him away from his wife so much, she could at least reap the benefits of his hard work. Besides, none of the security cameras were in place and he is the only one with keys to the building, so they are very much alone.
Bob presses a button to mask his voice as he speaks to the beautiful woman on the other side of the glass. He knows he has to make it up to her but he is not sure how far he will be able to take her without shutting her down completely. He’s not even sure she is going to participate in this game. If Bob was being honest with himself, a huge part of him hoped she wouldn’t.
Confident he had the right settings in place, he sat back in the high back chair and spoke. “I’m sorry if the officers were a bit rough with you, ma’am. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. What am I being held for?” Sharon asks, more annoyed than curious.
“It seems you match the description of a wanted bank robber who evaded the police once this month. My men are just being cautious. We don’t have any female officers on duty tonight so I am afraid we may need to improvise. As long as there is no touching and you voluntarily cooperate, we are not breaking protocol. I understand that this may be inconvenient, but this is what has to be done. Otherwise you will be here until the morning when one is available.” Bob explains with more enthusiasm than he was letting on.
Sharon was curious as to how long her husband, on the other side of the glass, would carry on this charade. She figured out by now that this must be the new building Bob was working on. She also made a mental note to remind him not to wear the same cologne she bought him for Christmas the next time he was going to kidnap her.
“Fine. Let’s just get this over with. What do you want me to do?” Sharon’s stomach fluttered with excitement as she waited for further instruction.
Bob cleared his throat and realized for the first time, he had not thought this through very well. At forty years old, Bob was no slacker in the bedroom, but to have verbal control over his headstrong wife, made him giddy with excitement.
“First, we need to do a strip search. Please take off your dress and lay it on the table.”
With nothing more than a nod, Sharon made a show of untying her blue wrap dress and exposing her red lacy underwear and bra set. His wife’s beautiful body was put on display as she untied the inside tie and allowed her dress to slip off her shoulders, onto the floor. Turning to face away from Bob, Sharon bent at the waist and picked up her DKNY dress and placed it on the shiny silver tabletop. Twisting back around, Sharon put her hands on her hips and awaited her next instruction.
“Very nice-I mean, very good, Miss.” Bob stuttered into the microphone. “Now you will have to step closer and remove your bra. I need to make sure you are not concealing anything inside.”
Sharon took a step toward the glass and halted, mid-step. “Are you alone? I am not continuing if you and all your cop buddies are having a bit of fun with me in there.” Sharon knew that Bob would never let that happen, but she thought it was a logical question for a woman in her predicament.
“Of course! It is just me, ma’am. I am in now way trying to take advantage of you,” Bob lies.
“Alright.” Sharon approaches the mirror and watches herself undo her padded red bra. She couldn’t see Bob’s expression on the other side but she was pretty sure that after fifteen years of marriage she could guess that he was sitting in his chair, with legs spread open and his hand on his crotch. He did it often enough when she would dress in front of him. Bob was a bit of a voyeur and she knew it. Sharon liked when Bob watched her. She liked that he appreciated her body and wanted to touch it whenever he could get his hands on her. That was before he took on this project and was working so much.
With no shame or wavering, Sharon pulls off her bra and tosses it on the table behind her. She watches herself in the mirror as her breasts bounce when she spins around. She grips each of them in her hand and lifts them so Bob can get a good look at what he has been missing out on the last few months.
Bob watches his wife in awe as she pulls the pins out of her hair causing it to fall all around her. With two hands, she pulls out her hairclip and pushes her rigid nipples toward the cool glass. As if the glass itself has a sensor to his dick, Bob twitches in his suit pants upon contact.
“As you can see officer, no concealed weapons.”
Bob tries, but he can’t speak. The sexy rasp of Sharon’s voice is turning him on in so many ways. Never before has he seen his wife in this light. Not even when they dated in their 20’s, was she the confident vixen he sees before him, now. Thank god his voice is masked, because if not, she would definitely hear it lose an octave or two when he tries to speak again.
“Um…yes, well, that is just fine. Now, I am going to need you to slide down your panties and bend over so I can make sure there is nothing hidden in there either.” Bob is sure this is where Sharon was going draw the line. He is certain that she would never let another man see her that exposed.
“Whatever you say, officer. You are clearly the one in charge here.” Sharon licked her lips before turning around toward the table. When she is standing directly in front of it she takes a deep breath and prepares herself for what she is about to do. Her previous state of anger is replaced with adrenaline and anticipation. After 15 years of marriage, Bob has seen every part of her exposed, but never like this. Never the show she is putting on now.
Sharon grips both sides of her red lace panties and slides them down her legs. She puts one knee on the table and hoists herself up with her hands so that she is kneeling on the top. Looking over her shoulder into the glass, she watches her naked form reflect back and she has to admit, it’s lovely.
“Officer, if it will speed up the process, why don’t you come in here and take a more through look. I’ll even put my blindfold back on so if any rules are broken, I’ll never be able to tell who was doing the cavity search.”
Sharon bends over and finds the blindfold under her blue dress. She slips it down her forehead and bends over the table. When her ass is fully exposed to the glass wall she spreads her legs wider, then pulls the mask down to cover her eyes. Bob is stunned into silence, not by his wife being as bold as to show off her body with such confidence, but because she is offering up her body to a strange man, as far as she knows. As turned on as Bob is, his anger is getting the better of him. If this is the way she wants to play it, he will teach her a lesson she would soon regret.
“I will be right there to search you more carefully. Stay still and don’t move.”
Bob turns off the microphone and slams open the office door. He fiddles with the keys and pushed open the interrogation room door. With a heaving chest Bob watches Sharon spread wide open on the table. Noticing that the blindfold is still firmly in place, he quietly kicks off his shoes and unzips his suit pants. Long gone were his jacket and tie as he watched his wife strip a short time ago. He strolls over to the wall and lowers the lights so if Sharon does happen to catch a glimpse, she won’t see him in bright light until he is ready to reveal himself.
Bob approaches the silver table, clad in only his black boxer briefs and unbuttoned dress shirt; handcuffs in hand. He appreciates the heart shaped ass before him and loves seeing Sharon’s lips glistening under the dim lights. With his index and forefinger, Bob opens his wife up so he can see her arousal dripping from within. His mouth fills with saliva, knowing that she tastes like the ripest berry on the bush; sweet and succulent.
Bob grips Sharon’s arm off the table, then slaps the cuff on without being the least bit easy on her. When he grabs her other wrist, her forehead thumps on the table as her body falls forward.
“Oww…could you at least be a little less rough.” She queries. Bob, wanting to teach Sharon a lesson, slaps her ass with his bare hand. “Jesus, I didn’t say you could abuse me. Be easy.”
Bob remains silent as he pulls up the metal chair to the table and sits behind Sharon. He parts her with the middle fingers on both hands and dives face first into her. As soon as her sweetness touches his lips, he growls in appreciation as he eats at her with a feral need. With Sharon’s arms bound with the metal cuffs, she is powerless to stop him, and has no way to move in this position. She has no choice but to enjoy the touch of Bob behind her as he licks and rubs her. His touch is not gentle. It is ferocious, a feeling she never experienced with him before.
As Sharon’s orgasm rips through her at lightening speed, she can do nothing but scream. She has nothing to grip, or bite, or pull on, to ease her pleasurable agony.
Just her screams.
And the more she screams, the more Bob wants to hear her scream.
“Bob! Fuck…Bob….I can’t…ahhhh,” She moans and groans as he laps her up, not wanting to waste a drop. Right before he stands, ready to claim her, he realizes that she has called him by name.
“You know it’s me?” Bob asks as his fingers plunge into Sharon. He can feel her inner walls pulse around his fingers and he yearns for his cock to feel the same thing.
“Yes. I knew since I got in this room. Pleeeease, baby. Fuck me before I go insane.”
Bob wipes the moisture from his face on the cheek of Sharon’s ass. He can feel her drying up on his face and with his hands otherwise occupied, this is the best he can come up with. Sharon continues to moan and ride his fingers as Bob pushes into her, over and over. He knows she is ready again and he wants inside.
Bob grips her waist and lowers her feet to the floor. With Sharon’s tits pressed up against the cold metal table, her nipples form stiff peaks as her body melds with the unforgiving surface. Bob slips his thumb into her drenched core and drags the slick coating over her puckered opening before sliding his thumb into her as he drives his cock in one, long, harsh stroke. Sharon gasps and moans at how full she feels with both of her openings invaded by her partner.
Bob stills. “You like that, Sharon? You like when I watch you strip off your clothes. You like putting on a show for me, baby?”
“Yes. Fuck, Bob. Move. Please move. I need you. I need all of you, please.” Sharon cries. She needs to cum so bad she feels like her insides are on fire.
“You want more? I don’t know if you can handle more. Maybe I’ll stop and let you cool down for a while.” Bob teases as he gyrates his hips in a circle, causing Sharon to groan in frustration. “You like that? Do you want me to let you cum now?”
“Bob…I swear…if you don’t pick up…oh, god…the pace, I am going to fucking make you sleep-“ Sharon is cut off by Bob pulling back and slamming into her over and over. With every thrust of his hips, his thumb retreated and vice versa. With his hand on her back, pushing her into the tabletop, Bob rams into Sharon over and over again until he felt his balls tighten as he releases himself into her. With a scream that could wake the dead, Sharon’s voice echoes around the room as the last of their mutual indulgence is drawn out.
Completely satisfied and utterly spent after a long day and what will probably go in the record book for being the best sex they have ever had, Bob lays over Sharon’s moist naked body and kisses between her shoulder blades.
“Happy Valentines Day, baby. Can I come home tonight?” Bob chuckled against her skin.
“If you bring those handcuffs home with you, you can.”
Posted by S.L. Gonzalez