Pretty Please


"Sally, it's you. I love you Sally."

"Bob, are you all right? You sound a bit odd. Are you OK."

"Oh yes, Sally, I'm very OK. I'm just a bit... a bit... occupied."

"Occupied? What are you doing."

Then it dawned upon her.

"Bob," she laughed, "Do you mean that you are, um... fundamentally occupied."

I grunted.

"Are you playing with your little blue boy's toy?"

"Yes love. It's in me now. I was thinking of you."

"Oh darling, do you want me? Do you want me there. Please can I come and see."

"Yes Sally yes. Come quickly. Let yourself in, I don't think I could make it to the door at the moment."

I heard a peal of delightful laughter as she put her phone down.

Sitting on the bed was not helping. I gingerly lay down again, and waited. It cannot have been more than two or three minutes, but it seemed a lot longer before I heard the door open and close. She tapped on the wall beside the bedroom door.

"Are you decent? Can I come in."

We both laughed. I had to press on the plug to stop it slipping out.

"Which one is it, love."

"The same as you, the middle one."


"Oh, yes, but..."

"Yes, you look a bit strained. Let me help."

She leaned over me and placed a hand between my legs and felt the base of the plug in its place. She tapped lightly on it, and then stroked my penis as it stirred.

"Stop it, please. Its too much. I'll mess up your clean sheets if you don't."

She helped me to stand, and I shuffled across to the bathroom, half leaning on her shoulder. Very carefully, still holding the base in place I lowered myself towards the seat. Before I touched it, it happened. The plug slid itself out, and I just managed to catch it. I had felt as if I had been going to fill the toilet with crap, but nothing followed the plug. Well I say nothing, a few seconds after its exit we both heard a long, soft, wet, whistling fart.

"I don't think you really deserve a kiss after that."

I put on a glum look, then we both laughed as she changed her mind and kissed my nose. I liked her doing that. For a sad moment I wondered if she kissed her customers like that.

"Bob, I've come straight from work. I feel dirty. May I?"

I sat on the loo, watching her strip herself and step into the shower.

I recovered my composure. She was just standing under the water, her face to the wall. I washed the plug. Then I stepped into the shower behind her. She turned herself to me and buried her face into my chest. I put my hand under her chin to lift it so that I could kiss her. I could see that she had been crying.

"I'm sorry Bob. I was so afraid that you would hate me."

I just hugged her, then picked up the soap and started smoothing her back.

"Thank you, Bob. Thank you."

We soaped and rubbed and explored and enjoyed it. We dried each other. She left the bathroom, and returned wearing the shirt again, she gave me the dressing gown. She led the way downstairs.

There was a bag on my kitchen table.

"Do you eat Indian?"

"Love it."


She drew some plastic boxes covered in frost and a bag of rice from the bag, and started clattering pans and beeping the microwave.

"Sally." I asked hesitantly, "There is a spare room upstairs. I was thinking..."

She paused.

"Would I have to sleep in the spare room?"

"Of course not."

We looked at each other. We said nothing, but we agreed.

"Can I use the phone?"

She picked it up and dialed..

"Hello Pat, It's me, Sally."


"Is she there?"


"OK, it will have to wait."

She put the phone down and resumed her cookery. She was measuring out some rice when the phone rang. I picked it up.

"Mrs Smith here." I heard, "Is Sally there?"

"It's for you." I mouthed. "Mrs Smith!"

She put her hand out for the phone.

"Yes Mrs Smith, I rang."


"Mrs Smith, I've had a bit of good luck. I don't need to..."

She broke off. I could hear the shouting from the other side of the room.

"No he is not my pimp."


"No, he is not. He's a good friend."


"I am not stealing them Mrs Smith. I will return them. I will even wash them for you."

I could hear more shouting. Then it went quiet and Sally put the phone back onto its charger.

"Well Bob. Is seems as if I no longer have a job, but on the other hand, Mrs Smith never wants to see my face again, so we have a good supply of second hand towels and sheets."

"Does this mean that you don't need me to fuck your bottom?"

"Not exactly."

She turned off the cooker rings, stopped the microwave.

"Can you wait for your meal?"

She didn't wait for a reply. She just led me upstairs, my hand in hers. Her other hand was clutching a pink butt plug.

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