Wendy Ch. 05

It was a direct hit. My prick could have found its target without my fingers guiding it. And there was no hitch. Another stroke and I would be all the way in. I was in the process of a backstroke so I could do a second shove when I felt her hands; pushing me.

“What the fuck?” I said as I pulled out.

“We didn’t do it right,” she whispered.

“What the fuck, why are you whispering and what was not right about it?”

She took hold of my cock and that’s when it hit me. ‘She’s checking the rubber.’

Satisfied, she pulled me to her.

“No, that’s too high.” She whispered.

She tried it again and we were joined. After the confusion surrounding ‘getting it right’ I was somewhat turned off. But she was like engine number 4 heading to a fire and I got caught up in her enthusiasm.

The cabinets above us were a real pain in the ass; mine. My back hit them on every back stroke and when Wendy pounded her fists on my back she punished the cabinets more than me. When she tried Mrs. P’s trick of folding her legs back and lifting her butt off the surface her knee jarred the underside of the cabinets and sent a can of Ajax tumbling down upon me and then the floor.

Still, it was pretty good.

I stopped, partly because it was in the script and partly because my back needed a break from the beating it was taking. She must have been expecting it because her heels immediately stabbed the back of my legs to get me going. Unlike Mrs. P, Wendy was not able to dig her heels into my buttocks.

“Fuck me!” She said. “Hard!”

And I obeyed. ‘Hell with the low cabinets, hell with the uneven platform, hell with the narrow surface,’ I thought.

I slowed to a comfortable pace and found that by shortening the strokes I could avoid bumping the cabinets. This also lessened the beating I was taking from Wendy’s fists and her bucking was reduced to meeting my thrusts with gentle greetings.

Her head was still hanging over the side of the washing machine and her ass rested on the dryer which was slightly higher than the other machine. There was a small ridge around the edge of the dryer which gave my knees leverage but that same ridge must have been making a groove in Wendy’s back.

She paid no attention to the discomfort. In the dim light I could see that blood had rushed to her head making her forehead and cheeks unusually red. The dress between us was awash with perspiration and the aroma of sex in the enclosed area eclipsed the smells of laundry soaps and bleach.

Her hands drew me down and she whispered in my ear. ‘Just a little more.’

This seemed strange to me because I knew she had come twice; once when her fist struck my back so hard it knocked the wind from me and when her leg hit the cabinet making a door fly open. Both times her head had popped up and I could see it in her eyes. I felt her pussy walls grip my cock.

“I’m so close, please, give me one more.”

“Like that,” her voice was a faint whimper, “yes, like that, please, please, I’m, that’s it, yessss.”

‘How does she do that?’ I wondered. ‘We’re in the middle of an orgasm and she is quoting from Mrs. P as if they were her own words.’

I quickened the pace and let myself go, or cum as it were, with no regard for her pleasure.

I collapsed, her legs straightened and I no longer felt her hands on my head.

“Get up, get off of me,” she was tapping my side.

I knew the routine. The floor felt good under my feet. I left her to make it down the best way she could. As far as I was concerned the re-enactment was over.

“Cotton,” I heard her call from her doorway as I slammed the rear door of the van.

I turned, she was standing in her darkened doorway but the outline her in the dress ‘tent’ was visible. Although I could not see the expression on her face I imagined it from the sound of her voice when she had called to me. I knew her green eyes were searching; I knew there was concern in them and I knew it was genuine.

“Thank you,” she called. And the door closed.

‘You’re welcome,’ I thought. ‘I’ll get a roast out of your freezer any time. Next time we’ll put in on spin dry.’

[to be continued]

{thank you Patrick}