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This begins the second half of a twelve chapter series. Thanks for reading, and stay tuned as this and future chapters reveal what happens when Gina says no, what happens when Gina brings a guy over, the stories behind Noel and Penny, and what finally becomes of Gina and Andrew’s arrangement.
It wasn’t sunlight that woke me this time, but nature- I needed to pee. I rolled the wrong way, though, and was half-way on top of Andrew before I noticed my mistake. I kept going, crawling over him and rolling off his side of the bed, and headed to the bathroom. I guess that woke him up, and he took care of his morning needs after I was done. I started looking for my clothes, but the early November chill drove me back under the covers for a quick warm-up while I planned my day. I had an afternoon shift, but not an evening one, which was kind of a sucky arrangement. A long commute for short hours and bad tips.
I heard a flush and Andrew came walking back in. I closed my eyes under the covers and hoped he wasn’t planning to extend last night’s activities into this morning. He slipped under the covers, still naked. “You’ve got the right idea, it’s too cold out there.”
“Go turn on the heat!’
“In a minute. In a minute,” he muttered, scooting my direction. His hand reached over and began stroking my belly. I flinched at the initial contact, then relaxed.
“I’ve got an afternoon shift, I was hoping to get a lot of housework done after breakfast. And I need to make you something for dinner, since I won’t be home until after 5.” I tried to distract him with mundane things. His rubbing went higher up my body and lower, too, covering me from neck to thighs with gentle touches.
“I’m doing my double shifts today, but it’s only a little after 6am” he said, sounding distant. Still caressing me, he began a question, “Gina, last night…?” I didn’t want to interrupt, because there were a couple things he might be referring to. “After we fell asleep, did we…have sex again?”
I was glad he didn’t want to analyze my motives and feelings in coming to his room the night before. “Yeah, you poked me in your sleep,” I explained, trying to minimize it.
“Did I…say things to you?”
“Well, you mumbled a lot, but it sounded like sleepy nonsense.”
He shifted his crotch towards mine. I was lying on my back with my hands holding the top of the covers up at my neck.
“Oh…OK. I’m sorry about that, I was having a vivid dream…and then I sort of woke up and I was all confused…and I thought I was having sex with someone, and then it seemed like I really was, but it was different from my dream, and…I don’t know…I’m just…sorry if it was weird.”
While he was talking, he lifted up my leg that was closest to him and adjusted it so it was over his waist. With him on his side and me still on my back, it was natural to slip my other leg in between his. With one hand, he lined his cock up with my slit and with the other, he spread my lips. Nestling his tip just inside me, he let go of his cock and resumed rubbing my belly.
“Andrew, you must have a very inconsistent definition of ‘weird’ if you think something about last night was strange and yet what you’re doing right now is normal.”
He let out a long breath through his nose and started very small motions with his hips. I was still too dry for entry. Andrew was on his side, and the arm he was lying on slipped under my back and down to my butt cheeks. His other hand, the one free to rub, moved around in circles, getting lower each time until he was running his fingers in small circles around my clit. I reached one arm out and put it behind his neck. With my other hand, I joined his fingers at work on my nub, which was just starting to get into the game. I wanted to hurry this along, and if I could help get myself ready for action, that would benefit us both.
Once my hand started working my clit, Andrew moved his hand back to its post on my belly and breasts, tracing unrepeating, unpredictable paths around my torso. My own work started to pay off, and my hips started gentle motions against him. Sensing my growing wetness and my readiness, Andrew pushed in a bit. Then he held still and kept caressing. After a minute or two, I pushed further down, pulling more of him in. Still working my clit, I was on my way to my own pleasure, much to my surprise.
Andrew pushed the final inch inside me and started lazily working himself in and out. The way our legs were intertwined- stacked like criss-crossed logs at the corner of a cabin- made for some interesting sensations. Every now and then, Andrew’s hand would run from my breasts all the way down my belly, over my thighs and onto my calf. That was one perk being taken like this- his hands on my leg felt nice.
Too soon, I heard Andrew’s breathing get sharper, and I felt his thrusts press harder. He wasn’t pulling far out of me, but he was pressing firmly in each time. On most thrusts, his leg pressed my hand up against my clit, which was distracting, slowing down my advance.
His almanbahis adres hand, which was rubbing my thigh quite nicely, moved to my trimmed bush and stayed there. Between that and his other hand still cupping my ass, he was able to match his thrusting with an irresistible pulling of my body against his. He held my whole middle section in-between his two hands, and he used that power to draw his pleasure from my tightening hole. Unable to keep rubbing myself, I put my hand on top of his and waited out his release.
Loud, sharp breaths accompanied each deep thrust until he arched his back, squeezed his legs, and came with a subdued yell. I felt him pulsing inside…one, two…three, four…five…six…his body relaxed…seven…he pushed back in a little…eight, nine…
He moved his hand back up to my breast and rested it there. When he made a move to pull out, I reached a hand down to his hip and held him in place. “Wait,” I warned.
I resumed my own self-pleasuring. Just as there were times when I felt like an elaborate hole that he used for masturbation, this was a time when I felt like his tool was just a solid object to help me reach my peak. If he could walk out of the room and leave that part of him inside me for a few minutes, I would be happy with that. His warm presence inside me was much nicer than any plastic substitute. My hips started their circling again.
Eyes closed, I tried to imagine Steve next to me. Nope, that was no good- I just didn’t think of him like that. I recalled past lovers, but it was hard to block out painful associations of heartbreaks and bitterness and loss.
Andrew pressed inside me again, trying to maintain some firmness inside me, even as he began to soften. His hand started working my nipples, gently pinching and pulling and tracing barely-there circles along my aureoles. I blushed a little to think that he knew that I usually needed that to finish.
I had been close before, so in a matter of a minute or two, I was on the edge Andrew’s hand finally moved off my ass and slid all the way up my back, along my neck, and finally into my hair. When he gently brushed it with his fingers, I slipped past the final barrier.
It was a small orgasm, a gentle and noiseless, other than a few gasps and sharp intakes of air as my head jerked up off the pillow a few times. I shivered and writhed for a minute or two afterwards, trying to stretch out the descent. Then a switch flipped in my head, and I just needed to be away from Andrew. I pulled off of him, rolled out from under the covers, and left the room. I shouted down the hall as I left, “I’ll get our clothes when I do laundry after breakfast.”
It was Tuesday. Andrew left for work just before 8, and my mind wandered while I did breakfast dishes. Tomorrow would be the anniversary of his daughter’s death. I was torn. Part of me thought I should call in one of those shifts Moira owed me and stay here all day. I’m sure Andrew would want me available. But part of me still thought I should make plans to be away all day. We’d just had sex three times in less than 12 hours- he couldn’t complain that I wasn’t available enough.
After 9, my morning got busy. I got a call about coming in for an interview at a place called “Hope’s Advocate.” I had no memory of applying there, but I had submitted dozens of applications over the past 7 months. I looked it up- it was an shelter that specialized in caring for battered, abused, homeless, or otherwise desperate women. Their web page mentioned that they were looking for a “personal assistant to the case manager.” It was vague, but I met the qualifications. And it wasn’t sales. My interview was set for the following Monday morning.
I wanted to spend some time in the third bedroom, the one that looked like an office. My curiosity was still driving me to disregard any sense of Andrew’s privacy. Maybe it was my twisted way of trying to violate him in retaliation for violating me.
I was barely in the room when I got a call from work. It was a slow day and they had over-scheduled the afternoon. They didn’t need me to come in. I wasn’t too disappointed. Thanks to my arrangement with Andrew, my paychecks and tips were just being saved up- almost every other expense was covered by a few thrusts of the hips. And a total sacrifice of dignity, loss of identity, exposure of emotional vulnerability, the humiliation of dependence, and so on. But what the hell, nothing is free, right?
The office was mostly a mess. It was probably one of those things that you plan to get around to fixing but then never do it when you have the time. Shoe boxes, folders, envelopes and file cabinets full of papers were piled up in no visible system. Old tax returns, receipts for big and small things, owner’s manuals for most of the shit in the house. Every utility bill, internet contract, and credit card slip seemed to be in here.
It occurred to me that I could probably organize this very well- according to date and type of document. And almanbahis adresi in the process, I could try to learn some things. But I wouldn’t risk starting that without his approval. I wouldn’t risk organizing…but just looking was another thing.
There was a whole file cabinet that seemed related to his business- I didn’t mess with that. I wouldn’t know how to interpret those numbers, anyway. Old tax returns showed that he was doing very well on the income side of things, but bank statements didn’t show a high balance, unless I was missing something. So there were some expenses I didn’t know about. Alimony? Gambling? Off shore account? OK, my lack of financial savvy made it hard for me to come up with plausible theories here.
I got another call- from work again- could I come in this evening instead? Might as well. That meant I didn’t need to make dinner until the afternoon. I liked that schedule. I had barely hung up when my phone rang again. Wellspring called me back to say that, while they thought I was a very qualified candidate, blah, blah, blah. No big deal- I don’t think I would have taken the job anyway. I still thought giving up a secure part-time job to take a questionable full-time job wasn’t a good call. I thanked them for calling to tell me- that was more courtesy than a lot of companies extended.
I dug through a shoe box full of receipts. Nothing too interesting. I pulled another shoe box out- same sort of thing. At the bottom of the box, however, was a small stack of papers stapled together. Some pages were carbon paper, different colors, lots of print with a few signatures- looked like a contract of some sort.
I flipped through it and figured out pretty quickly that it was for a burial site- a child’s grave. There was the text and design of the headstone, and…yes, there at the bottom was the address of the cemetery. I jotted down the address and stuffed the paper in my pocket. I looked through a few more boxes and piles, but I didn’t uncover anything interesting. Satisfied for now, I headed back downstairs.
The rest of my day was simple- cleaning, prepping dinner, and researching Hope’s Advocate so that I could be an “informed applicant” and have a couple questions of my own for them. I even took a luxurious afternoon nap in my own bed. Around 4, I put some music on through the TV and began cooking. Andrew came home, gloomy. I didn’t have the heart to tease him about it. He changed in his room then came right downstairs and sat at the table. Dinner was practically ready, so I put silverware and an empty plate in front of him.
When the stove beeped, I pulled out my creation, of which I was very proud- beef, mushroom and veggie skewers- shish-kabob style. After placing a few skewers on his plate, I started munching on one myself. They were delicious. Andrew picked one up and absently started eating it. He ate four whole skewers in silence. I ate three while I was cleaning up the dishes.
I was a little put off that he hadn’t said anything about the food- it was pretty damn good. But then I was disgusted with myself that I wanted his approval. O please, dear, tell me I’m doing a good job, tell me I’m a good little wife! Shall I fetch your pipe and rub your shoulders?
I left him to his brooding and went upstairs to change. I might as well head in a little bit early, maybe pick up an extra table. I bounced down the stairs, my skirt flipping up with each hop. My “uniform” was a short black skirt over tight black slacks or tights and a standard red t-shirt with our logo on it. I slipped on my black sneakers and went to the kitchen to get a drink to go.
Andrew looked up and said sleepily, “You’re working?”
“They switched my shifts around today. I have to be in at 6.” Because he, too, had to be at his night job at 6, Andrew looked at the clock in alarm. He relaxed when he saw that it was only just after 5. I explained, “I thought I’d go in a little early.”
“But you don’t need to be early right?”
“Well, technically, no…” not catching on to where this was going. I mean, we were both in the kitchen, fully dressed and needing to leave soon for work. He couldn’t expect…
“Pull your pants down a little, please,” he said, rising from his seat.
I was annoyed. “Andrew, come on! This is ridiculous!”
“I only need a couple minutes,” he said, matter-of-factly, undoing his buckle. “I won’t make you late. You’ll probably still be early.”
I think what bothered me the most was that he was usually fairly considerate- wanting (often in vain) for me to find some pleasure in our activities. He worked around my schedule, and nine times out of ten he was not a very demanding or selfish…not lover, but…sexual partner. I hated to be reminded that he wasn’t obligated to be that way. What I was seeing in the kitchen was what I probably expected more of in this arrangement.
I hadn’t moved and was still standing with my hand on the fridge. I stared at Andrew in disbelief.
“Come on,” he said impatiently, beckoning me towards the empty almanbahis adres space by the sink. I dropped my hand from the fridge and shuffled over to him, eyes wide open, pleading wordlessly for a reprieve. He took me by the hips, turned me to to face the wall, and stood behind me. I reached back and pulled my tights and panties down to mid-thigh, wiggling my hips to do so. Andrew dropped his pants to the floor, stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. Still wearing his boxer briefs, he pulled his cock out through the opening in front and flipped my skirt up.
He grabbed my hips with both hand and lifted me up, saying, “Tip-toes.” I’m not short, but Andrew was at least half a foot taller than me. Then with one strong hand between my shoulder blades, he bent me down until my elbows were on the kitchen counter.
Just an hour ago, I had been bent over this counter cooking him a meal. Now I was in nearly the same position, preparing for him to screw me. It was humiliating. Did he also want me barefoot and pregnant? Oh, God, what if something happened and I did get pregnant? What if that’s his big, psycho plan? Sabotage my birth control pills after making me agree to no condoms. Have me bear a replacement for the child he lost. Crazy? Right now, nothing seemed implausible. My heart sank at the thought. I resolved to hide my pills.
At that moment, Andrew’s cock, the tip of which he had apparently just lubed with a spritz of the olive oil next to us, started pressing into me. I was dry and unprepared, probably tight from the stress of the situation. Not really caring about that, he pulled back a little and pressed in again, repeating that process a few times until he was in as far as he could go. Judging by the bumping of his knees against the backs of my legs, I guessed he had to squat a bit to get into me.
Not waiting for me to relax and not taking a moment to hold inside me and enjoy the moment of entry (as he usually did), Andrew started pumping. I quickly moved my hands up against the wall to brace myself so that my hips didn’t get all bruised from being banged against the counter. I imagine it was quite a sight- I was fully clothed other than my exposed ass and pussy. I grunted with each thrust, my hips hitting the counter each time until I realized I could prevent that by pushing back against him.
Once I started pushing back, his hands, which had been on my hips, pulling me back against him, moved up under the front of my shirt. He pulled the cups of my bra down so that my tits hung out. Cupping one breast in each hand, he started kneading and lightly squeezing them. I was getting nothing out of this, but he sped up.
To his credit, he had been right- starting from when he told me to pull my pants down, it had probably only taken a minute to get him inside me. And judging by the stove clock, he had only been fucking me for a minute when I could tell he was about to cum. He squeezed my breasts uncomfortably hard and started doing slower, harder thrusts.
He straightened up his legs, which carried me an inch or so off the ground. With my feet dangling, I couldn’t push back against him. So when he kept thrusting, he didn’t go in and out but instead just moved my whole body with him. He solved that problem by trapping me against the counter again. It only took two more deep pushes for him to start cumming. When he did, his knees buckled a bit and he slipped out of me. Frantically trying to get back inside, he missed and his shaft went right up between my butt cheeks.
He grabbed his still-squirting cock and lined it back up with my pussy. Thrusting back inside all the way, he groaned as a few last pulses pushed against my walls. He stayed inside me for just a moment, looking down at my ass and rubbing it appreciatively. He pulled out and tucked his penis back into his boxer briefs. I awkwardly waddled over to the bathroom- I had to get as much of his cum out of me before going to work. If I had a big wet spot on my crotch, it would be easily visible to customers and coworkers alike. I took a quick look in the mirror to make sure he hadn’t squirted onto my skirt or shirt when he slipped out while cumming.
I heard him putting his pants back on and walking upstairs. Once I had finished my business, I went back to the fridge, grabbed my damn drink, and went to work, fuming.
I was glad Steve wasn’t working that night. I just wasn’t interested in him, and I didn’t have the emotional energy to be fake nice. Unfortunately, I was a server at a restaurant and faking a smile was my bread and butter. My tips weren’t very good that night. But I had enough tables that it was worth my time.
One big table- a family of 12 celebrating a kid’s birthday- kept me very busy (and I was glad that tips are automatically added for large groups, and I hoped they would forget that and double tip me). It was someone from their group who made me realize that I wasn’t hiding my mood. After bringing around another tray of refills, I was heading back to the kitchen when the oldest member of the group, a woman in her 70’s, grabbed my elbow. Everyone else at her table was engaged in conversation and paid us no mind. She motioned for me to lean my ear in and then said, “It’s boy troubles, isn’t it sweetie?”
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