Cleaning his big rod smu.., p.1

Cleaning His BIG Rod (Smut With A Side Of Story), page 1

 

Cleaning His BIG Rod (Smut With A Side Of Story)
 


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Cleaning His BIG Rod (Smut With A Side Of Story)


  CLEANING HIS BIG ROD

  -An Erotic Tale-

  (Smut with a Side of Story)

  Diana Quippley

  This tale of lewdness has been locked and sealed in a fancy, copyrighted © treasure trove belonging to the lusty Diana Quippley in the year 2015. It is highly advisable that you do not attempt to pilfer or purloin any parts of this naughty story... as the contents are most certainly hot and burning to the touch!

  However, on the bright side, we not believe in any of that horrid DRM software. And as such, this book is presented to you without any hint or trace of the vile substance – meaning you are free to view this book on whatever device you see fit to read it on! There are zero restrictions... You have paid for the tale, now please delight in the many passages of a steamy nature wherever you like!

  And alas... you are to be told that this is indeed a work of fiction. Any resemblance or similarity to real-life individuals, places, or things is purely coincidental. Though many of you might wish that these fanciful tales, filled with endless carnal cravings and passionate adventures, were true to life...

  Before going any farther... please let me forewarn you that the tome you hold in your lascivious little hands is most certainly one containing steamy scenes of an adult nature! Yes, the very kind of hot, sexy, mouth-watering pages your mother warned you about!

  Knowing this, you must also be told that the characters in question are all above the age of 18.

  A Quick Word

  Saucy stories are not a plague or blight upon society – no! They are a wonderland of fantasy and adventure, a place to live out those lusty dreams we try so desperately to keep to ourselves. Set them free and read on!

  If you'd like to read even more of my lusty tales, simply click:

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  What You Will Find

  Cleaning His BIG Rod

  ---

  Mailing List

  Cleaning His BIG Rod

  Don’t be late…

  “Just remember Emma,” he said to me as I walked out the door with keys in hand. “Be back by midnight. That’s my only rule while you’re staying here. Just think of it like Cinderella – your curfew is midnight!”

  Those were his last words before I left this evening…

  Being a young college girl on vacation though, I kind of took it lightly. Some fairy tale warning? I think not!

  His name was Mr. North. Our parents had been good friends before they moved away. So, when I came to this town on break from school, my dad had called Mr. North and the topic of me staying at his home instead of wasting money on a hotel had come up. Obviously, I decided to sleep at his residence. Of course! It was totally free, why wouldn’t I.

  He wasn’t an overly strict man of the house – sure, he had his little outbursts now and then but who doesn’t, right? Dad did warn me that he could have his moments of obedience, whatever that meant. But overall Mr. North seemed to be pretty lenient. That’s why I didn’t pay much attention to his curfew rule. That and because I wasn’t 16 years old anymore. I was 19 and on my own. I’d had my fill of the stupid curfew laws handed out by parents long ago. And while, yes, I was a guest at his house and I should have obeyed his instructions… it just didn’t seem like that big of a deal.

  That’s why when I looked down at my phone tonight and saw the time was 2:30am… Just a couple hours past the magical midnight number, it didn’t concern me all that much. I just finished making out with the hot guy I’d met downtown and decided to return back to Mr. North’s house. He’d probably be in bed sleeping, anyway. It wouldn’t be overly difficult for me to tiptoe through the home without disturbing him. My cell phone has a light. I do that kind of thing all the time, it’s no big deal.

  His home was pretty barren, too. There wouldn’t be much for me to bump into or knock over. But, knowing my luck… the odds were if there was anything, I would find it!

  ***

  ***

  The keys jiggled quietly as I fumbled around, trying to remember which one was for Mr. North’s front door. Eventually I managed to guess correctly – as the door opened without a sound and I stepped inside making sure to hold the keys tightly, so they wouldn’t make a noise. Pitch black… a little darker and ominous than I had remembered. The liquor from earlier, which was now heavily flowing through my system, didn’t help the situation. My legs were a little wobblier than I would have liked.

  And just as I reached into my pocket to pull out the phone and light my way, I heard a voice speak out from the blackness.

  “Well, Emma,” it said.

  Even though it should have been obvious, it did take me a moment or two to realize that it was probably Mr. North sitting somewhere in the shadowy expanse. I couldn’t be sure where the words came from, so I remained motionless.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  “Get a look at the time, did you Emma?” the voice replied.

  “Mr. North?” I stuttered.

  There was the sound of movement coming from across the room, and a moment later the ceiling light flicked on. My eyes, being unaccustomed to the brightness, squinted tightly almost to the point of being shut entirely. But from between my thick lashes, I could see a hulking figure walking in front of me. As my eyes adjusted it became clear that the person, Mr. North, had seated himself on the sofa.

  “I said,” he grunted,” do you know what time it is?”

  The man had his head lowered slightly, with those masculine hands steepled at chest level. There wasn’t so much as the hint of a smile within 1,000 miles.

  “Umm,” I stalled, “I’m… I’m not sure?”

  “Well, Emma, I’ll clue you in, dear.” Here Mr. North pointed one finger to the nearby wall clock, all the while staring, unblinkingly at my body. “After midnight, we can see. Well after midnight, we can see. Can’t we?”

  “I’m really sorry, Mr. North. I guess I kind of just forgot… I’m so sorry,” I used every feminine trick I could think of – twisting my body to the side, pouting my lips, and scrunching my face as if tears might come bursting out at any second.

  “You should be. I told you midnight, did I not? You willfully disobeyed me.” Mr. North spoke with a cold tone, apparently immune to my sad-girl routine.

  “I know! But I didn’t, Mr. North, I swear! I just forgot, things got carried away I guess,” came my hurried reply.

  “Oh ho!” He laughed, tinges of malice in the cackle. “Things just got carried away, did they? Just got carried, you guess?” Mr. North shrugged his shoulders in a mocking fashion.

  “Yeah, I guess…” Here my shoulders shrugged slowly as well, my head tilting to one side with an oops expression on my face.

  The man’s hands were steepled above his chest again, making me feel like a misbehaved child who was in the process of being scolded for writing on the walls.

  “Well, that’s just fine young Emma. But, now you’ve got us both up in the middle of the night for no reason other than you couldn’t follow a simple rule. It’s okay to be sorry, but there are still consequences for our actions. You must know that.”

  Consequences? I didn’t have any idea what he meant or planned to do. Was he going to ground me? Yeah, that’s a joke. I’d just pack up my bags and go stay in some rundown hotel rather than play daddy’s little girl to this handsome man. I don’t care if he is good-looking. There are lots of good looking men in the world; and I don’t have to put up with this crap to find one. Although, on the other hand… it was the middle of the night and I was pretty damn ti
red. So, I thought I’d play along just until the morning at least.

  “You want to punish me, Mr. North?” I asked.

  “Not want,” he told me. “Am. I am going to punish you. I’m not sure how your family runs things in your house – but in mine there are rules and consequences. If you break the first, you get the second.”

  “That’s understandable,” I said. “I’m still really sorry for being late.”

  Mr. North leaned forward in the chair and here I saw his eyes scan my body from head to toe, as if her were deliberating what sentence should be handed out for my transgression.

  “I’m glad you find it all so reasonable, Emma. Now…” his fingers tapped together at the tips. “What should your punishment consist of?”

  “…I, I don’t know Mr. North,” I shrugged.

  “Well, since you’re up and about already, why don’t we have you do some housecleaning. Yes, that sounds good.”

  “You want me to… clean your house?” I questioned, feeling annoyed yet somewhat relieved by the judgment.

  “Yep. You’re a nice looking girl. You could probably do well learning how to clean a man’s house. It might come in handy for you later in life,” he grinned.

  So, he’s a bit sexist as well as tyrannical! Though it wasn’t the end of the world. I mean, as long as he didn’t whip out some maid attire for me to wear as I went around dusting…

  “Ok, Mr. North,” I smiled cheerfully, squeezing my boobs together with both elbows. “Where should I start?”

  “You’re a college girl,” he said, “I’m sure you can look around and see what needs to be done.”

  “Oh, I was hoping you could teach me…”

  This comment of mine caused Mr. North to lean a little more forward in his chair, the smile vanishing entirely from the man’s face.

  “Ok, Emma. Go in the kitchen and grab a towel off the counter. You can use that to wipe the dust off.”

  I did what he asked, returning to the living room with my damp towel, awaiting further instruction.

  “Go on then, wipe off the TV stand for me. Make sure you reach behind to get the back and sides,” he ordered.

  And as I did so, bending forward to stretch my arm out, I could feel my boobs hanging low in my tight shirt.

  “Very nice,” Mr. North said. “I think you’ve done this before.”

  “Once or twice,” I laughed.

  “Do you think this is funny, Emma?”

  “No, not at all,” I told him, making damn sure to wipe the smile clean from my face.

  “I should hope you are taking this seriously. Breaking rules shouldn’t be taken lightly. It’s quite disrespectful,” the seated man stated.

  I nodded several times to appease him.

  “Make sure you get the very back,” came Mr. North’s next instruction.

  And so I leaned forward even more, feeling my perky breasts squish and spread out across the TV screen.

  “Mmhmm,” he grunted. “Fine work. They look lovely.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. North?”

  “Nothing, Emma. Why don’t you dust off the far table as well. The one with a lamp on it near the door.”

  Well, the punishment hadn’t been too bad so far. A quick little wiping was tolerable. Even if it was slightly uncomfortable with Mr. North watching me the entire time. It wasn’t until I reached the table that I discovered the full intent of his requests.

  “Once you’ve got the top dusted,” he said, “be sure to reach down and clear out the socket. I don’t want any dust trapped in there. Fire hazard, you know.”

  Of course, to reach the socket I was forced to bend over at the waist, facing directly away from my overseer. I could feel the short skirt riding up my legs, high enough that I was forced to stretch back and pull the material down or I would have definitely been exposed. And somehow, I gathered, that was Mr. North’s intent. A little game of punishment, eh? Well, two can play that game.

  I decided to release my hand from the skirt. He wanted a show? I’d give him a little show, as there’s nothing worse than looking without being able to touch. This way I could turn the tables on Mr. Rules over there.

  “Did I do well, Mr. North?” I asked from over my shoulder.

  “Just a few more passes,” he returned.

  And so I bent down a little farther, allowing my skirt to hike up, revealing the very lowest part of my cotton panties.

  “That’s real good,” Mr. North nodded. “You’re doing much better now. A fast learner. You must be a real college girl.”

  “Anywhere else you would like me to dust?” I questioned, resting a hand on my hip, licking at my lips.

  And here I saw Mr. North cast his gaze at the two lovely spheres on my chest. Good thing I’d worn a low top, it made for a nice show with the cleavage hanging out. And while my boobs weren’t overly big, they could certainly get the juices flowing. I wondered if his were beginning to circulate…

  “Are you being sassy?” he shot back.

  I felt a surge of fright grip my very soul. The tone had been anything but kind or gentle. It was guttural and malicious, a no nonsense kind of voice.

  “No, sir. I’m only trying to do a thorough job,” I pleaded.

  “Hmm, in that case,” he began, “Why don’t you come over here and clear off the table on my right.”

  There were various papers and some left over wrappers on the table. A few remotes and one drinking cup. I moved over quickly, picking the items up and placing them in their proper places.

  “You forgot one,” Mr. North was pointing at a wrapper in his hand.

  As I wandered over, sticking my hand out to retrieve it from his – but the man let it drop to the floor… forcing me to bend over and scoop it up.

  “Perfect,” he said, staring at my breasts which were now in full view with me resting between his legs practically two feet away.

  But some things just rub me the wrong way. And being made out to be this man’s little toy was one of them.

  “I didn’t expect your home to be so messy, Mr. North – or should I say Mr. Piggy,” I laughed aloud, staring him down.

  His expression remained unchanged. An unmoving, beautiful stone mask.

  “Actually, Emma,” he said at last. “You’re not quite done yet… I don’t think you’re taking this seriously at all.”

  “I really am, Mr. North! I swear!”

  “Well then, why didn’t you notice this?” he asked.

  “Notice what, Mr. North?”

  The man’s lips curled upward, some motion which passed for a smile.

  “You know,” he said, “When I sat here waiting for you to return, I ate some cookies, and as you can see…” Here Mr. North looked down at his own pants, a few crumbs scattered about the material. “I think they need to be wiped off.”

  ***

  ***

  “You want me to wipe your pants?”

  “That’s right, Emma,” Mr. North told me.

  “But I put the towel away,” I retorted.

  “That’s ok, Emma. Just use your hands.”

  He seemed quite adamant that I clean his trousers. And strangely, as I stood this close to him, drinking in the sight of his attractive features and lean body… I felt a desire to comply, and so I did, extending my hands above his groin.

  “Go on,” he said, urging me along.

  “Yes, Mr. North.”

  Now my hands were on his pants, dusting lightly from side to side. I crossed over the zipper, flicking away the last bit of the crumbs… that is the precise moment I felt it. Some thick bulge beneath the material, growing larger and larger each time I rubbed along his clothes. It… felt wonderful.

  “Wait a minute!” Mr. North shouted.

  “What!?” I reeled back in surprise.

  “What is that? On your neck there,” he asked.

  I tried to look where he pointed, but of course it was impossible to see my own neck – and so he placed a finger on the dark mark which resided on the sid
e of my supple skin, just along the neck.

  “Oh…” I said, immediately remember what had caused the discoloration. The boy from earlier… “I, umm…” I searched for a suitable lie, but nothing came to mind.

  “I said, what is it Emma?”

  “Well I was with a guy tonight and…” I hoped the implication of my actions would be enough to appease Mr. North.

 
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