Golf Widow

I slept in. It was nine when I woke up and the sun was shining brightly. I was quite surprised as I normally wake early, or get woken. It seemed that Hubby had decided to let me sleep in this morning. Normally he'd be kicking me out of bed as soon as he woke up so that I could cook him some breakfast, but not today. I could even smell the lingering odour of coffee, showing that he'd already had his breakfast. Such a sweet man.

The thought did cross my mind that he hadn't woken me so that he could put off the awful moment when he had to go shopping with me, but I put the very idea away as unworthy.

I showered and dressed, just putting on a light dress, something easy to put on and take off as I'd be trying on clothes while shopping. I strolled into the kitchen and made myself some coffee for breakfast, surprised not to find Hubby wandering around.

I was halfway through my coffee before I noticed the note on the table. I picked it up and read it and I couldn't believe what that dirty, slimy, no-good, sneak had done. He'd gone golfing with some of his mates. He knew I'd understand. I could go shopping another time. The club championships were coming up and he had a good chance of winning (in his dreams) so needed all the practice he could get.

He wouldn't be getting much practice as I'd be taking his clubs when he got home and wrapping each and every one of them around his neck. He'd need Emergency Services to unwind them before I was finished. I was going to take his balls and replace them with golf balls. I'd string those golf balls together and use them as anal beads on him. See how he liked golf then.

To add to the turmoil I was feeling the back door crashed open and Joe from next door came bursting into the house. Now I like Joe. He's a friendly man, although I suspect he's not the brightest spark. He's good with his hands, though, and does a lot of handyman work around the neighbourhood. A big man, with nice big muscles, and normally I'm quite happy to see him. Not this time, however.

"And what the hell do you want, you slimy sleazebag," I yelled at him, "and how dare you come bursting into my house like that. Ha! If it wasn't for your bad manners you wouldn't have any manners at all."

"Would you rather I'd called the cops instead, staying outside while you were dismembered and murdered? Or should that be murdered and dismembered. I suspect the murdering would probably take place first."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I demanded.

"The screaming. It really sounded as though you were in trouble. I came to assist."

Screaming? I'd been screaming? Come to think of it I probably had been.

"Yes, well your fucking assistance isn't required, asshole, so you might as well just fuck off out of here," I snarled at him, giving him a fulminating look.

"Speaking of manners, yours are leaving a little to be desired right now. I excused the first abuse as being due to the shock of my unexpected entry. I must ask you to refrain from continuing to speak to me in that manner."

Who'd been speaking of manners and since when did Joe speak so formally? Oh, I guess I had. I'd accused him of having bad manners.

"Ask away. Who cares what you fucking think? There's nothing you can fucking do anyway, asshole."

Now normally I wouldn't speak in this manner. Normally I was polite to everyone, but Brian dumping my shopping trip for golf had really got to me and I had to take me anger out on someone. Joe was there and a man so he was my chosen target.

"Yes, there is," he calmly informed me. "If the little girl is rude, daddy smack."

I almost had a full tantrum on the spot. I wasn't that little, for a start. (Um, compared to him I was, a second thought prompted me. I ignored it.) As for daddy? Words failed me. He was only five years my senior, if that.

"Of all the unmitigated gall," I gasped. "How dare you. I'm in my own house and I can be just as rude as I like and that's that. If you don't fucking like it you can go home. As a matter of fact that's a good idea. Piss off because you're smelling up the kitchen. I'll have to fumigate to get rid of the smell of sleazebag. Daddy fucking smack. I'd like to see you try. Come on, give it a go. I dare you."

I lifted my own hands, fingers curled, ready to start scratching if he tried anything, although I didn't really expect him to. I was angry and so I was posturing, taking advantage of his good nature, as I knew Joe was far too nice to actually hit me.

"OK. Have you got a decent mirror in the place?"

I just gave him a blank look. Mirror? What was with the mirror?

"Well," he prompted, and I just pointed in the general direction of my bedroom.

"Ah, in the bedroom," I said, "but what. . .?"

I didn't even know what question to ask.

Joe suddenly bent over, arm going around me as his shoulder pressed against my stomach. He gave me a small push in the back as he straightened up and I fell forward over his shoulder, his arms going across my legs to hold me in place. He started walking down the hall to the bedroom while I yelled and tried to thump on his back.

He marched into the bedroom and I had time to be grateful for the fact that I'd made the bed already, and then he sat on the bed, facing the dressing table and the great big mirror on it. He somehow or other swivelled me around and dropped me face down across his lap.

I was still wriggling and yelling and he dropped a hard spank on my bottom, telling me to, "Shush."

"If you turn and look at the mirror," he said, which I automatically did, "you'll be able to see yourself. Not only that but, in accordance with your wishes, you'll be able to see me smack you."

Boy, talk about an unpleasant surprise. He really was going to smack me.

"Don't you dare," I wailed. "Joe," I protested loudly, as he lifted my dress up, leaving my bottom exposed. "Jo-oe!" I protested even louder when he pushed my panties down.

His hand came down firmly upon my bottom and it stung. I was wriggling, and yelling, and protesting, and swearing, and Joe was calmly ignoring it all, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm, beating my bottom. The stupid man wasn't just as dumb as an ox but he had the muscles of one, too, holding me easily in place as he spanked me.

He didn't go overboard with the spanking, probably only giving about ten hard smacks to my bottom, but as soon as he stopped I shut up. I wasn't going to say anything that might set him off again.

"I will now accept your apology for being rude when I only came over because I thought you were in trouble," Joe said.

"I'm sorry, Joe," I said as politely as I could. "I was angry and I forgot myself."

"I suppose I should apologise for spanking you," he said next, surprising me, "but I'm not going to. I quite enjoyed it. It looks to me as if you might've enjoyed it, too, for all your wriggling and caterwauling."

To my surprise he started rubbing my bottom. Well, maybe not to my total surprise as he'd left his hand resting on my bottom at the end of the spanking. What was a total surprise was the fact that his hand slipped between my legs, which were probably parted a bit more than they should have been and was also rubbing my pussy. This was Joe. How could he possibly come up with the nerve to do something like that?

"Ah, Joe, what do you think you're doing?"

"Just helping ease your tensions," he said, sounding as though it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

I flicked a glance in the mirror and he was smiling. I could also see his hand sliding back and forth between my legs, which had a bit of an erotic impact on me.

"You know, I've found that any time a woman has had a reason to get really angry it always helps her after she's calmed down a little if she has a man take care of her feminine needs. Fortunately for you I'm here and can assist you in this matter."

He had to be kidding, was my first thought. He wouldn't dare, was my second. That's what you thought about being spanked, was my third. My fourth thought was just a simple oh my god.

"Are you going to rape me," I asked nervously.

"Don't be silly," Joe chided me. "All I'm doing right now is soothing your wounded pride. I wouldn't dream of raping you."

I relaxed a little. Just a little as it's hard to relax when a great ox has you lying across his lap while he massages your pussy. Why was he still doing that?

"Probably because you haven't told him to stop it," my honest self whispered in my ear.

"Will you please stop doing that," I demanded.

"Seeing you ask so nicely," Joe said, dropped an extra, totally unwarranted spank on my bottom, and swinging me onto my feet.

I gave a squeal and my hands cupped my bottom, that extra spank bringing back to me the fact that my bottom was smarting. Joe was silently laughing at me and to my great indignation reached over and started rubbing the front of my pussy. OK. That was my own fault. My dress was a little short and when if hitched up the back of it to hold my bottom the front of it had also risen slightly. Just enough to leave me exposed.

"Do you have to?" I snarled at him and he just kept on smiling.

"Um, yes, I think I do. It's plain you want me to and I wouldn't be a gentleman if I didn't."

"You're insane," I shouted explosively. "What the hell makes you think I want you to?"

"Um, how about the fact that you've hitched up your dress and are standing in easy reach," he held up a hand when I was going to defend myself, "and you've neither asked me to stop nor taken a step backwards."

How to feel like a complete idiot. There was nothing, but nothing, stopping me from taking that one backward step.

Joe abruptly stood up, his hand going to his belt.

"Hop up on the bed," he told me. "Hands and knees, sideways to the mirror so you can watch."

He had to be fucking kidding me. Did he really think that all he had to do was tell me to climb on the bed and I'd do so? Apparently he did and equally apparently he was correct. I found myself climbing onto the bed, watching Joe push his trousers down, feeling shocked at what he had there, and screaming inside, "What are you doing, you idiot?"

Joe climbed up on the bed, kneeling behind me, once more rubbing me.

"Consider this emotional therapy," he said softly. "It will relax you and let you dismiss those little things that were troubling you."

I felt him brushing his erection up and down my slit and I turned to look in the mirror, shocking myself once again that I wanted to watch this. He stopped moving his cock and I could feel it was pressing against me at just the right spot. His hands closed over my hips and he started pushing into me.

I just knelt there watching, seeing his cock slowly pushing its way into me, feeling it entering me and filling me. He seemed to have an awful lot of cock that he had to bury and I was giving little nervous gasps as he kept going deeper. I finished up giving a shocked squeak when he suddenly gave a quick push, sheathing that last inch with a sudden rush.

I continued watching as his cock drew back, emerging from my body. I was breathing harder, waiting, and when it next started sliding into me I was ready, moving to meet him. I was finding it hard to believe that was me in the mirror, my bottom bouncing up and down as I matched Joe's movements. I saw, as well as felt, his hands sliding along my sides, finally closing over my breast.

Joe was in full control having set up a pace that he liked and banging into me with great enthusiasm, with me responding just as eagerly, bouncing about under him, urging him on. There was something delightfully wicked about this and I was relishing that wickedness, doing something that I knew I shouldn't and not giving a damn.

Sex is always fun. A little illicit sex is even more fun, even if it was only going to be a one-off. Or possibly because I knew that it was a one-off. It was all Brian's fault, anyway. If he'd kept his word instead of sneaking off to play golf this would never have happened.

Still, it was happening, and happening, and happening. Joe was showing amazing stamina, not rushing to a finish but taking his time, coaxing me along with him.

Finally I was losing it, I knew. Too much for too long and I wasn't going to last much longer. I felt (saw) Joe give an extra hard thrust and I lost it, screaming as I climaxed, with a most peculiar look on my face.

I slumped down on the bed, feeling Joe withdrawing. He was off the bed and pulling up his pants when next I looked. He winked at me and gave me a pat on the bottom.

"Now don't you feel a lot better," he said. "I have to run. Things to do, places to be. My list of jobs isn't getting smaller."

With that he vanished out the door and I started thinking about getting dressed again. It was odd. I remembered Joe pulling my panties off but I was damned if I could remember him taking off my bra and dress. I headed for the shower.

It's amazing what you think of when you're in the shower. I was remembering Joe saying something along the lines that fucking an angry woman calms her down, citing his own experience. I couldn't help wondering just how many women in the area had he helped calm down when they were upset? And could I guess which ones?