tagNonConsent/ReluctanceDebbie Gibson Ch. 03

Debbie Gibson Ch. 03


I closed the shower door behind me and turned on the tap. The hot water hit was instant and felt really good on my skin. I soaped up and washed myself down, wincing when my fingers ran over my pussy lips. They were incredibly sore from the pounding I'd received from Tony and his massive 10" cock. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Relief that I hadn't had to face Derek. That could have been embarrassing.


My mouth opened and closed in horror. What the hell was Derek doing here? He was supposed to be away on his fishing trip. Oh my god!

When I finally finished in the shower I went downstairs to talk to him. Understandably I was extremely nervous and thought that he would see there was something bothering me. But no, Derek wasn't the slightest bit concerned about me or where I'd been. He just sat there in his chair, every now and again begrudgingly dragging his eyes away from the TV to look at me whilst I gave him the third degree.

I suppose I should be grateful. He's never had a problem with me going out and doesn't appear to have a jealous bone in his body. Sometimes I wonder if he's bothered whether I'm here or not. As long as there's food on the table and his clothes are washed and ironed he seems to be perfectly happy.

Anyway, he noticed nothing different about me and when I questioned him about his fishing trip he just told me, in a matter of fact voice, that he'd got his dates mixed up and it was actually booked for next week.

* * *

As I had after my indiscretion with Curtis, I felt guilty for letting Tony fuck me on the girls night out. It wasn't like me to act that way. I'd never been promiscuous even when younger. I'd always been a good girl; well I had been until now it seemed.

Returning to work at the mini supermarket on Monday, I was horrified when in walked Tony. He clearly thought Saturday had been more than a drunken mistake and asked me if we could get together again. Perhaps meet up for a drink or two after work one day. It was obvious what he wanted and of course I refused. There was no way I wanted this to escalate. Even though I begrudgingly acknowledged to myself that I had enjoyed the sex, I wasn't looking to carry on an affair with Tony or anyone else for that matter.

So I politely told him that I had no clear recollection of the events of the evening; just that I was ashamed of myself and there was no chance of a repeat performance and would he please not bother me again.

Fortunately for me, none of the girls from the store had any idea what had transpired on Saturday night and luckily Tony took the hint and never came back to pester me again. To say I was mightily relieved would be a huge understatement.

* * *

In spite of everything, I was pretty sure I still loved my husband Derek. Okay, he never took me out anymore and most of the time when we were both at home he would be in one room watching football or any other sport that might be on television and I would be either catching up on the housework or watching television in another room.

However, even though this was our usual pattern of life together I began to notice some subtle changes and soon realised that all was not well. Derek seemed more withdrawn than usual and it occurred to me that he was now drinking heavily at home. When we talked he was snappy and extremely irritable. I let this continue for several weeks before I finally decided that enough was enough and confronted him.

I cornered him in the kitchen. He'd just cracked open a can of beer.

"Okay Derek, I want to know what's going on," I demanded. "I know something's not right and it's about time you told me. After all, I am your wife!"

"Yeah, you're right," Derek said, taking a sip of his beer, "we've got problems, so you'd better sit down."

I felt a tinge of worry. This didn't look good. It wasn't like Derek to buckle straight away from one of my demands.

Derek had left school at sixteen, starting as a tea boy at a local factory and over the ensuing years had worked his way up to a management position. Yet nine months ago he'd been tempted away to another company. They'd dangled the carrot of more money, better pension and other benefits plus rapid advancement up the management ladder, so how could he resist?

I sat with a heavy heart as Derek filled me in on the gory details. Everything had been fine until recently when the company had been subject to a hostile takeover by a big conglomerate. The deal had gone through remarkably quickly and the new owners were now shedding jobs to increase the profit line for their investors. They were stripping out an entire layer of managers and unfortunately this layer included him.

I could see the look of anguish etched on his face. But then came the killer blow. As he'd only been with the company a short time his redundancy payout was a nominal amount, which would barely cover our outgoings for a month.

He had gone back to his old company hoping that they would welcome him back with open arms but they had no positions vacant because of the economic slump. He had sent out his CV and registered with several recruitment agencies but they were not hopeful of finding anything for him anytime soon.

This was far worse than I could ever have expected. "So what are we going to do?" I asked, a worried frown creasing my face. "What happens next month when all the bills come in, my small wage won't cover them."

"I really don't know," Derek replied, "do you think you can get any more hours at the supermarket?"

"Well I can ask, but I shouldn't think there will be any spare, we're pretty well covered with staff at the moment." I shook my head without too much hope.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Derek sank deeper into depression. I'm pretty sure he felt worthless as he couldn't find work and I, worried about our predicament, wittered and nagged at him, which certainly didn't help. I knew I should be more supportive but the worry of it all was really getting me down.

As our savings dwindled, the bills began to mount up, although surprisingly Derek always found enough money to buy beer. This in itself pissed me off big time!

* * *

I hung up the phone. "That was Mr Webster," I announced to Derek, "he wants to know when we can pay the rent we owe him. He didn't sound too pleased when I fobbed him off."

"Tell him to go to hell," Derek retorted. He'd already had a few beers.

"I don't think that will help matters do you," I testily replied, "besides if we don't find a way to pay him soon he's threatening to kick us out. We'll be homeless Derek, don't you realise!"

"Well what can I do about it," he whined. "you'll have to go and see him and sort it out."

"Wonderful, thanks a lot for your help and input," I snapped back in reply. "And why do I have to sort it out, why can't you deal with it?"

"I just think he'll be more receptive to you than me, that's all," Derek sniffled, "you know, you being a woman and all that..."

I glared at him before turning angrily away. The useless bastard, always passing the buck. I was still seething as I picked up the phone and rang Mr Webster back. Our conversation was short and sweet. I arranged to meet him at his office the next day.

"Satisfied," I snapped again at Derek. He looked at me defiantly before turning and walking out the room. I scowled at his retreating back.

* * *

The following day I arrived at Mr Webster's office. It was located in one of the seedier parts of town. I noted with distaste the peeling paint on the exterior woodwork and the general untidiness of his office when I entered. The stale smell of smoke hit my nostrils. I soon found out why.

Mr Webster was sat behind his desk smoking a big fat cigar. As I closed the door behind me he looked up.

"Mr Webster?" I asked trying to sound bright and cheery.

"Yeah," Mr Webster grunted in reply, "I take it you're Mrs Gibson?"

I nodded.

"Have a seat," he said, motioning to a rusty looking metal chair. "You've come about the rent then?"

I sat down. "Well, yes. As you know we're slightly behind...the bank have bounced a couple of payments, but we're sure we can catch up, we just need a bit more time, if you wouldn't mind," I garbled out.

Mr Webster said nothing. He stared at me until I began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. I shifted awkwardly on the metal chair. I felt as if I was sat in front of my old school principal, awaiting punishment for some minor indiscretion.

"Interesting!" Mr Webster replied finally. He licked his lips as he considered his next words. He leaned forward.

"Look, Mrs Gibson I'm a business man and if I let everybody have more time to pay, then that would affect my cash-flow. Then I wouldn't be able to pay my bills and then I would be in the same predicament as you. And you're more than slightly behind, you actually owe...let me see...," he shuffled through some papers which were scattered across his desk, "...yes here it is; you actually owe five months rent."

"What!" I pulled my head back in shock. "But that's impossible, the rent goes out of our bank account every month by direct debit into your account," I replied indignantly. "It always has! My husband told me that a couple of payments may have bounced but..."

My voice tailed off as Mr Webster held up his hand to stop me.

"Your payments did indeed get paid that way. Well...they used to, until your husband rang and told me he'd cancelled the direct debit and that you would be paying cash every month," he replied.

I was horrified as I digested this information. Derek had deliberately lied to me. So that's where he's been getting his booze money from, the lousy, devious bastard!

I chewed on my bottom lip as I quickly pondered over our options. It was blindingly obvious. We didn't have any.

"Oh, I see. Is there anyway you can give us more time?" I asked, hoping that he would see my forlorn expression and take pity.

"Not really," he replied abruptly, "I'm afraid I've already instructed my solicitor to start court proceedings to evict you." He glanced up at me. He must have seen the look of abject panic in my eyes, my mouth was hanging open in disbelief.

I felt my stomach flip over as I gathered myself together. "What," I croaked, a lump stuck in my throat, "you've...you've done what...I'm not sure I follow..."

"Well it's perfectly simple Mrs Gibson," he sneered, "we go to court to ask them to force you out of my property because you haven't paid the rent."

He drew deeply on his cigar before exhaling, sending smoke across the desk at me. I coughed as I wafted it away with my hand.

He continued, a thin smile on his lips. "Of course, the court will find in my favour and then set a date for the bailiffs to come round to evict you and change the locks."

My head was spinning as I tried to grasp the implications of what Mr Webster had just told me. We would be forced out onto the streets with nowhere to go and with no money.

"Please Mr Webster," I pleaded, my heart pounding in my chest, "please don't do this, where will we go, what about my children, think about them, please, I'll do anything if you..."

"Really...you'll do anything..." he interrupted, pursing his lips. "Well let me see...what have you got that I could possibly want..."

He leaned back in his chair. I saw his eyes move from my face and scan up and down my body.

"Why don't you take off your coat and let's have a look at what you've got to offer!" he said. He puffed away on his big fat cigar sending plumes of smoke high into the already stale air of his office.

"Sorry!" I exclaimed indignantly, "did I just hear you right...you want me to take off my coat."

"Yes I did," he replied with annoyance, "it's not a big deal...is it? You can leave if you want and I'll see you in court if you would prefer...?"

"No...no...I suppose not," I answered weakly. It was no big deal I told myself. I stood up, unfastened my coat and removed it, draping it over the back of my chair.

I had dressed today in what I thought were just normal casual clothes. The sort I wear most days. Obviously judging by his reaction, what Mr Webster saw was another thing entirely.

His eyes were glued to my body. He started at my legs. I was wearing tight fitting jeans, which I suppose did cling to my shapely thighs and full round ass and I suppose were accentuated by my high heel shoes. As his eyes roamed higher he came to the massive bulge that were my 38DD breasts, which were straining against my tight fitting sweater. It's not my fault they're so big. They just sort of grew after I had the kids and never went away.

"Fuck me," I heard him murmur under his breath as his eyes remained glued to my breasts, "will you look at those babies!"

My stomach churned as I saw that look. I knew what it meant and I knew exactly what he wanted. I felt sick.

Mr Webster managed to drag his eyes away from my boobs for a second and looked up at me. "I suggest if you want to resolve this matter, you'd better come back tomorrow at the same time. Oh...and make sure you're better dressed than today, if you know what I mean!" He gave what I assume for him passed for a broad smile.

Uugghh! I swallowed hard. I was shaking as I retrieved my coat and slung it over my arm. Trying hard to maintain my composure, I walked out of Mr Webster's office, slamming the door behind me.

* * *

On my return home, Derek didn't ask how things had gone with Mr Webster and I didn't bother discussing the problem with him. What was the point. I'd seen the line of empty beer cans on the kitchen worktop. He was clearly leaving it up to me to sort this problem out and we didn't have enough money to clear the outstanding rent anyway.

So, the following day, after a night agonising over Mr Webster's intentions and whether I wanted to save our home by doing this, I arrived at his office promptly on time.

I entered and closed the door behind me. Mr Webster looked up in surprise, as if he hadn't expected me to come back. For a fat man he certainly moved fast. He rose quickly from his chair, locking the office door and pulling down the blinds. He turned to face me. If I'd had any lingering doubts about his intentions, there was no mistaking them now.

I looked at him and my stomach turned over. Borderline obese his chubby round face had jowls of flesh hanging from his cheeks. He looked as if he'd never seen the sun in his life judging by his pallor and greasy skin. His rubbery lips had no shape and I now noticed that he licked them constantly.

I looked at his unkempt appearance. He was gross. His crumpled suit was stained with cigar ash, food, drink and god knows what else. His podgy hands had rings on most fingers and he was puffing away on yet another big fat cigar.

"Lose the coat," he said brusquely. As he gazed lustfully at me, I placed my coat on the back of the chair and turned to face him.

"Fuck me..." he breathed heavily.

I'd thought long and hard about how I was going to approach this ordeal. I had decided that I would allow him to grope my breasts as judging by his reaction yesterday and today he was clearly mesmerised by their size and shape. I would also probably let him finger my pussy but there was to be no intercourse. Heavy petting would be okay but there was no way he was going to get his dick inside me and fuck me.

I had therefore dressed in another very tight sweater that clung to my massive 38DD breasts. It was thin enough to reveal I was wearing a lacy bra underneath. My skirt was very short and showed off my legs, especially my thighs. I was also wearing thigh high stockings and shoes with a 4" stiletto heel.

"Come on then," I said through gritted teeth, "let's get this over with."

His tongue flicked out as he licked his lips. He reminded me of a lizard. He extended an arm as he tentatively reached out to touch my breasts.

"Stop!" I was a bag of nerves and shaking badly.

"Before you lay a hand on me, we need to come to an arrangement," I croaked, "what is this going to knock off what we owe you?"

"How about we see what you let me do first," wheezed a visibly excited Mr Webster, as his outstretched hand made contact with my breast. His other hand was still holding his cigar.

His touch was ice cold as he fondled me. I swayed slightly as his arousal grew and he became more forceful with his groping, pushing his fingers into my chest.

"So nice, Mrs Gibson, so fucking nice and so fucking big," he said as he continued to squeeze and fondle my breasts, giving each of them equal attention.

I glared into his face but I don't know why I bothered. His eyes were glued firmly on the task in hand but I did notice small beads of perspiration forming on his forehead as he began to sweat.

His hand ran slowly across my sweater, his fingers following the outline of my lacy bra beneath. He was clearly mesmerised by this judging by his grunts of satisfaction. Putting his cigar in his mouth he then lifted my sweater up to expose my impressive cleavage to his eyes. My breasts swelled over the top of my bra and judging by his reaction he liked that look.

"Ohhmmmuuupphh," he groaned as he prodded his fingers into my soft flesh. It rippled under his touch. His fingers ran almost lovingly over my exposed breasts before he cupped one with both hands and squeezed hard. I grimaced. He was being quite rough with me now.

Pulling my sweater up over my head he then reached behind my back, unfastened my bra and pulled down the shoulder straps. He paused briefly before slowly peeling it away from my breasts.

"Ohhhh...my...ohhh...my..." he groaned as my breasts jiggled slightly as he removed the bra. He put his cigar down in an ashtray.

He lowered his head and taking a breast in his hands, licked round the aureole before sucking and nipping at my swelling nub. I reacted with a sharp intake of breath. God damn it, that wasn't supposed to happen.

I tensed, prepared for more but he surprised me when he suddenly let go of my breast and sat down on his office chair. He scooted it round to the side of me. I wasn't sure what he was going to do next but I didn't have long to wait. From this position he had a marvellous view of the shape of my ass and legs. Judging by his moans he must have thought them divine.

My short skirt was pulled tightly across my ass so he could clearly see the separation of my ass cheeks and their shape. Because my skirt was so short I was showing a huge expanse of my toned thigh. His hand moved to caress my ass, gliding over the fabric of my skirt. He obviously liked the feel of that too as he moaned again. His hand moved down onto my leg clearly enjoying the sheer silkiness of my thigh high stockings and as he ran his fingers along my inner thigh, he reached my bare flesh.

I noticed him move his legs, trying to adjust his sitting position as his hand fumbled around his crotch area. I assumed he was uncomfortable, no doubt due to his growing excitement as he also seemed to be struggling to breathe.

I felt his fingers inch ever upwards. His breath was raspy and I could see him shaking. My flesh felt as if it was on fire as he tried to cup my mound. Squeezing his fingers in between my legs he managed to rub where he thought access to my pussy was.

"Come on Mrs Gibson, open them up for me," he croaked.

I was proud of myself as I didn't react. He obviously didn't care as he just kept on rubbing.

Eventually I felt it building from deep within. I tried to fight it. The last thing I wanted was Mr Webster to get satisfaction from my reaction.

But it was too late. I could see the surprised look on his face as I finally moved my legs. I couldn't help it and I could hear my breathing quicken as he carried on rubbing.

I grabbed hold of the back of the chair for support as my resolve weakened.

"Ummm..." I groaned reluctantly as I slowly moved my hips back and forth in a circular motion, "Ummm..."

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