Riding Saturns Rings

— Make it two. — He interrupted quickly, before the bartender turned back. And then you gave him the sweetest smile he had ever seen, extended your slender hand and introduced yourself properly. 

Pope was flabbergasted and almost forgot his name – his real one. With much caution, he captured your hand and revealed himself. Both of you gulped down shots while still holding eye contact. Your eyes were beautiful, intoxicating. 

And so the conversation began – you talked a lot, first small talk then the Oceanside and from there on it went smoothly. You were smiling and giggling at his cheesy remarks, Pope could swear your cheeks grew rosey. And it wasn’t caused by alcohol. 

He didn’t even know he still had it in him to flirt like that, openly and not ashamed. But here we are. 

Everything was going smoothly, you seemed comfortable with his presence – even more, you seemed intrigued by him. With Pope Cody talking to you, making you laugh so softly. Until the crowd of soccer fans roared as their teams scored a point. You flinched and he noticed. Of course he noticed.

— Hey, you alright? — Pope asked, glancing over to the loud crowd behind them. 

— Yes, yes. It’s just… It’s getting really loud…

And another set of screams and drunken, empty threats echoed through the bar. Your shoulders tensed again. 

— Yeah — you and Pope smiled at the same time, acknowledging how intense the game is becoming. — Hey… Wanna go to the beach? It should be quiet there. 

You were tempted by his proposition, actually considering it, but also looking back at your friend group. They were still sitting in the same corner, drinking another line of colorful shots. 

Your hesitation didn't get past Pope. Well, actually it was good you weren’t so eager to just walk out with a stranger. Smart girl. But you seemed so sweet and charismatic, passionate about your interest and actually listening to what he had to say about stuff. Pope couldn’t just give up and let you slip through his fingers. He deserved something nice, even for once. Even if this didn’t mean anything to you. 

But just for a short while, it would be nice to feel desired. 

— Promise, ‘m gonna walk you back to your friends, before closing time.

He reassured you, tilting his head slightly, looking at the micro expression of  your face. And when you shyly nodded your head, Pope grabbed your hand and led you out of that loud mess of a bar, Deran had and walked you two across the boulevard. 

You spent a good two hours sitting on the beach and staring at the night sky and the peaceful surface of the ocean. You talked about everything and nothing and when the time finally came, Pope walked you back to the bar as he promised. Your friends were already waving at you to come and join them. 

Only then Pope let go of your hand. He nervously put his own back into the jacket’s pockets. He stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do with himself. Should he touch you? Ask for another… whatever this was? Kiss you? 

Jesus, he was so stressed – he didn’t want to scare something as precious as you off! What should he do? 

You noticed his nervousness. The wandering gaze, not knowing exactly where to look or if he should say something. Unlike yourself, because your lack of any experience in that field made you rather withdrawn from such situations, you stepped closer to Pope. And you could swear, him and you stopped breathing for a second. 

— Andrew? — Standing on your tiptoes, you placed a kiss on his cheek. — I’d really like to do this again. 

A date? With him? With Pope Cody, whom people were to fucking scared to approach?

Gods be damned, he just blushed like a teenager for the first time in many, many years as you left him there, completely flabbergasted. Of course he would take you out on a date. A proper one this time.

HOW ITS GOING…

✿ Pope loves the fact you’re so touch starved – you however, feel bad about it. You’re afraid he might think you’re too clingy or needy. Worse, he might think you’re childish. Quickly in your relationship Pope assured you, he loooved when you cuddled to him during the night, how you warmly welcomed him home after a long day at work, hugging his torso.

Or when the two of you were sitting on a couch, either of you reading a book, but your legs draped over his, as he slowly rubbed circles into your calves.

Whenever you got anxious he would rub up and down your arms, easing you into the safe space you created between the two of you.

Speaking of being touch starved, so was Pope – he melted into your touch whenever your slender fingers played with his curls. Pretty, painted nails dragging down the nape of his neck. You could swear he drifted off to sleep like that a couple of times, when he placed his head onto your lap.

✿ Pope isn’t a man to say ‘I love you’ very often, but he makes sure you don’t ever have to doubt that through his acts of service.

✿ One of your favourite activities together is baking – Pope would die for your cakes, biscuits or any pastries, but he also likes being involved in domestic actions. So you just order him around, reciting the recipe and he’s more than happy to help his sweet girlfriend.

The second favourite one is taking a relaxing bath together with your back laying over his chest, between his legs. You still have no clue how on Earth you two fit in the tub, but hey! It works!

✿ Pope often makes you sit in his lap, because he finds your weight comforting. It’s not necessarily sexual, but at the same time, he feels the selfish need to show that you're his girl. Even when nobody is around.

✿ You’re absolutely not being involved in the family business, Pope tries to keep you as far away from the whole family as possible. Especially from Smurf.

Not because he’s ashamed of you, nothing like that! But because you’re the only good thing in his life that seems ‘clean’ and good. He doesn’t want to risk your health and life by shoving you into his cruel world.

✿ Pope takes your relationship very seriously, however, because of the age gap, he found himself feeling utterly guilty – especially at the beginning. How could a monster like him, a bad man, deserve someone as innocent and good as you? 

But as your relationship grew and months passed, he became more comfortable with the age difference. He even found his ego stupidly boosted that such a sweet thing wanted him of all of the Oceanside bachelors.

WHAT IS THE SEX LIKE?

✿ He is an absolute sweetheart in bed – asks if you're okay with the things he’s doing, how does that feel, if it makes you feel good. Pope is rather gentle, not wanting to scare you or worse, break you. Hurt you by an accident.

No matter how many times you reassured him, he can be a little rougher with you or spank your ass – he still, despite trying to relax, holds back.

✿ Lover boy Pope is a munch – here, I said it.

He’s obviously an eater, he loves the scent of his girlfriend – not only the shampoo, perfumes or the moisturizer you use during the day. But the sweetest nectar of yours that happens to drip down your thighs when he plays with your sensitive pussy.

✿ His favourite positions to go? Missionary (obviously), mating press, lotus (for the closeness) and prone. However, he really enjoys when you try to ride him, because eventually your legs give up and he has to help you – bouncing you up and down, squeezing your hips as he does. Mmm, you love your strong, beefy boyfriend. 

✿ How often? Usually it’s the first thing in the morning that you two do, waking up horny and whiney. Then, occasionally through the day, but it’s the evening and the late hours of the night that has you stripping out of your clothes and sharing secrets as you make out under the thin covers.

✿ One of Pope’s most favourite moments is the aftercare – beside the closeness that sex provides, he likes taking care of his girl. Wiping their arousals off of the apex of her thighs, making you drink a cold glass of water, brushing your hair away from your beautiful, fucked out face and holding you in his arms until you fall asleep – safe and sound. 

Only then, when he knows your perfectly fine and safe within his hold, he allows himself to dream too.

Before Andrew Cody, you had been perfectly content with what some would call a 'vanilla' lifestyle. A calm day to day life consisting of safe and familiar activities, and sex that exclusively relied on two positions and a slow pace.

After meeting him, however, your desires changed so fast, so palpably that you'd have thought he'd made some sort of wish to an all powerful genie about it.

You went from easy going when it came to attention, to absolutely addicted to his focus on you. From getting no particular rush at the idea of being tossed around, to taking one look at Andrews bulging biceps and begging him to pin you to the nearest surface like he meant it.

It was shocking— so out of left field that at times you felt like a rabid animal in heat whenever you got your hands on Andrew. But above all, the feeling was entirely, mind meltingly thrilling.

You became victim to the desperation of wanting Andrew and everything that came with him— his rough demeanor, his twisted scowl, his hands that were drenched in the phantom blood of all of those who had wronged him.

When you told him just as much in even greater detail, his reaction had been equal to a deer in headlights (if that deer was almost 200 pounds of pure bulk and had the fangs of a tiger that bared his teeth as such).

It had been a whispered confession in bed one night that— telling him that you wanted to act out a fantasy, wanted him to use you while calling you names, and that you wanted to surprise him with a scenario you chose and the outfit that came with it.

The words had him twitch his fingers nervously, thinking it over for about a week before he reopened the conversation hesitantly. He informed you that he'd like anything you'd like, that he trusted you, and that he'd never actually want to hurt you but he wasn't sure if you could trust him.

You understood his unease immediately, Andrew had a life's worth of violence piled up behind a closet door that was dead bolted shut just so the the skeletons wouldn't spill out. You knew that him hurting you, even accidentally, would ruin any sort of fantasy you had played up for him.

When you gently reassured him that he would never hurt you because you two had a safe word, that you'd make sure it was something the both of you liked, and told him that all of your scenarios consisted of a tiny skirt with an even tinier pair of panties to match, he agreed. A little anxiously, but agreed all the same.

A single night was enough time for you to perfect your role playing scenario, but you gave Andrew a few weeks to get used to the idea, to really understand that that's what you wanted from him and that he wanted it to. After the third week, when he seemed almost anticipatory for you to try something new every time you had sex, you knew that he was all in.

You waited for a day where he would be gone for hours. There wasn't much to set up for your fantasy so to speak, but you knew Andrew well enough to know exactly what would draw him in completely— what would sever any remaining frayed strings of hesitation about being rough and adventurous with you.

And that was by cleaning.

Yes, for your role playing fantasy with Andrew Cody, you had chosen to clean as a way of turning him on.

You spent all day deep tidying your house. You scrubbed the floors, dusted the ceiling, and vacuumed under every piece of furniture you had picked out with him when you first moved in together. It wasn't terribly unkept to start with, since your husband had a compulsion to keep everything tidy, but it was still a noticeable difference by the time you were done.

You then showered off the grime that had built up from disinfecting the kitchen and the sweat that beaded your hairline when you moved the couch. You would've been too tired to do anything else on any other day, but today you lotioned your whole body, did your hair in an updo that had a mobcap pinned to it, and slipped on the tiniest maid outfit you found on the internet.

The black skirt covered in a frilly white apron barely covered your ass, the black tights came with a garter that could easily be undone, and the sleek black heels made you feel like you could run a small country if needed.

You're simply standing in the living room waiting, when you hear Andrew's truck pull into the driveway. You pick up your small bucket of cleaning supplies and practically giggle in anticipation when his boots sound up the front steps and his key turns the lock on the front door.

"Sweetheart I'm ho-" Andrew's words die on his tongue when he opens the door to you standing there, batting the lashes you had curled and coated in mascara at him in pure innocence.

His adams apple bobs under his pale freckled skin as he swallows, raking his hazel eyes over your outfit, then the duster in your hand, then takes in the surroundings that were so clean you would expect a cartoon sparkle to flash before him.

"Hi Mr. Cody," you introduce yourself as if you've never met him before, a sweet smile on your face. "Mrs. Cody hired me to clean your house today."

Andrew blinks, frozen in the doorway, clearly needing a second to put together that you were no longer his wife that he loved, but a maid his wife had hired to scrub the floors. He looks to your left hand, observing that you've taken off your ring. After a beat of calculation that doesn't reflect on his permanently furrowed face, he shuts the door behind him, the arm muscles that flex with the movement are visible even under his clothes.

He offers you a simple, "Hello."

He wordlessly drops his car keys into the nearby dish, kicking off his boots and shrugging off his jacket next. Once he's left in a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans, his eyes lift to yours for a split second before dropping to examine your outfit while he stalks closer, the trace of his gaze sizzles on your skin as if his gaze is paired with tangible, searing heat vision.

By the time Andrew's a few feet away, his breathing has grown harsh to the point of the fabric straining against his chest.

He clears his throat, tearing his dark eyes away from your display of frills and lace to nod at the room you stand in, "You've cleaned it all?"

You swallow the sigh of relief that wants to sound when you realize that he's playing along, that he's into this fantasy and has taken on his role as you have.

You nod with an almost timid expression, "Yes, sir." —you don't miss the clench of his jaw when you call him that— "I've done the whole downstairs. All I have left is the bedroom, which Mrs. Cody said you were very particular about. Will you come upstairs with me and show me how you like it?"

"Yes," is all Andrew grunts after a rough exhale at your innuendo.

You pick up your bucket and spin on your heel, a stiletto he's never seen before because you got the pair brand new for this occasion. A maid can't wear any of his wife's clothes after all, because that would be stealing!

The walk upstairs is silent save for your matching shaky breaths, the anticipation gets lodged in your throat, constricting the tendons so heavily that you're glad Andrew's walking behind you so he doesn't see the gulps of air you're fighting for.

You turn to face him when you breach the door to the bedroom, your eyes meet his tight face and mussed curls, as if he was running his hands through his hair up the whole flight of stairs. His gaze is zeroed in on your ass, then flicks back up to meet your eyes when your swing your hips away.

He falters, shoulders bunching as if he should be embarrassed for looking so brazenly. Andrew opens his mouth for second to apologize for being caught, but you cut him off, a reminder that you want him like this— as your superior who makes you feel small, uneasy.

"What should I clean first Mr.Cody?" you say with an innocent head tilt and a quick bite of your bottom lip.

Andrew glances around the room slowly, in a dramatic way that has you follow his gaze, only when you spare a glance back at him do you realize he's taking a second to palm himself through his jeans.

Your lips part at the sight and you have to pretend to be confused by his display instead of letting out a lustful whimper. You keep your tone naive, puny like the simple girl you're pretending to be, "Mr. Cody?"

He sucks in a sharp breath, hand dropping back to his side and stilling, but not before one last instinctive twitch toward his cock that looks so hard its probably painful.

"Organize the books," his demand is gravelly, sounding like he hasn't had water in days. He nods towards the bookshelf. "Alphabetical order."

"Yes sir," you warmly nod, completely unaffected, acting as if he hadn't just been touching himself at the slight of you.

After organizing the books, he has you sweep the floor, then put some clothes on hangers. Its been over a half an hour by the time you start to dust the dresser— your heels are starting to hurt your feet, your apron is covered in dust, and your garter has begun to pinch parts of your thighs every time you bend a certain way.

You're growing impatient.

Andrew's hands haven't even touched you yet and you're panties are damp with slick due to his gaze that's traced you, groped you like a rough palm against your exposed legs and the over exaggerated cleavage that hangs out of your uniform.

"Get closer," he finally grunts through the heavy silence.

You look back at him startled, he's still standing rigid in the middle of the room with his hands clenched at his sides. You—the real you, not the maid— are not entirely sure what he's asking for. "I'm sorry?"

His huff is almost impatient, he cocks his head towards the wardrobe your slightly leaning over, "Bend over— so you can reach the dust behind it."

Your lips part in surprise at his boldness, but you halt them before your jaw completely drops, quickly quirking your lips to the side to fight the smile that threatens to give away just how much you enjoyed his command.

You reward his clearly perverted implications that a married man should never carry, with a gullible smile like he's offered the most sincere piece of advice anyone's ever given you, "I've never thought of that before, thanks Mr. Cody!"

Slowly, you bend all the way over the wooden dresser, instantly stifling a gasp at the feeling of cool air hitting your barely covered pussy, that's grown much too sensitive with need since the second you saw his eyes dilate when he first looked at you.

Andrew curses lowly from behind you at your scrap of lace panties, the tortured noise has heat spark through you, warming your skin and sending a white hot shiver up your spine, spreading goosebumps across your neck and shoulders.

You sway your hips much too dramatically as you dust as languidly as you can to make him even more flustered.

His next demand is cleaning under the bed, and when you simply kneel, Andrew tells you to get on all fours so you can 'look properly'. As your face is pressed against the standing carpet and your ass is up in the air, exposing you to him completely, you cant decide what part of this sends more thrill through your body.

It's either it the harsh orders he's giving you, that really emphasizes his rough exterior and almost predatory demeanor, or the notion that he's just as into this fantasy as you are— that he's turned on by you being his inferior, following his every command with an innocent smile and absolutely no pushback so far.

You hope that he'll push even further, that he'll take you on all fours right now and make you do something depraved. You want his voice to get deeper and his eyes to get darker as he forces you to do an act a maid would never do for a married man in the room that his wife shares with him.

As you get lost in all the ways he could fuck you, you've started to rub your thighs together without realizing it, desperate for any sort of relief from all the anticipation that's made you almost pathetic.

Well, you actually are pathetic based on the way you move to get up and whimper audibly when Andrew rasps, "Don't stand. Stay there."

Your head hangs low between your shoulders as your elbows dig into the carpet, your words are shaky from the effort to not whimper, you still you don't break character though as you ask, "For what Mr.Cody? Underneath is clean and—"

"Crawl to the nightstand and open the drawer," his command is strained, the grated words hit your sweltering skin like a singular drop of cold water, gaining a the smallest ounce of relief at the knowledge that he's also growing impatient.

It gives you a second wave of adrenaline, you reach deep inside you and steel the desperation that claws at your gut so intensely you swear your stomach is growling. Because you don't want to ask nicely and have him give it to you.

You want him to push you until you have to beg him to stop. You want him to be the married man taking advantage of his house maid. You want him— no, you need him to be mean.

Pushing up onto your hands, you look up at Andrew and tilt your head like a puppy, clueless as you goad him, wanting to see if he'll snap at your second guessing, "Why do I have to crawl?"

His broad chest is heaving as he looks down at you. His hazel eyes narrow and his jaw ticks once, dawning a glare of annoyance and you can't stop your eyes from lighting up.

He sees the positive reaction and pauses, then recedes by a single wrinkle, as if giving you what you want right now is the last thing he would ever entertain. He keeps his response simple.

"So you can feel if you kept the floor spotless."

Dammit.

"Okay sir, I will."

He rolls his neck once, speaking up after you've only made it one hand reach forward, "You listen to anything I say?"

Its a taunt.

His tone is so mocking that you don't know if you want to rejoice or orgasm right here and now simply from the escalation you've been silently dreaming of all night.

"Of course Mr. Cody," you chew on your bottom lip and you have your voice go all breathy, like you're so nervous that you can barely speak to him. "You're the one who pays me. You're the boss."

Andrew lets out a groan in response, it rumbles low through his throat and your thighs that squeeze together at his brazen display of desire.

You resume your slow crawl towards the nightstand as a way of stopping yourself from reaching for him, not thinking too hard about about what he'll have you do once you get there— a mistake in hindsight.

You sit up on your knees, the point of your heels digging into your ass once you're adjacent to the wooden drawer, head so foggy with anticipatory lust that you entirely forgot what the two of you keep in your nightstand table.

Your heart stutters when you tug open the brass handle.

Your half lidded eyes land on the collection of sex toys that you and your husband— correction: Mrs. Cody and her husband use.

Andrew stalks towards you until he's close enough where if you were to turn your head just enough, you could pull down his jean zipper with your teeth.

"I don't think I'm supposed to see these sir!" you squeak, your voice going a bit frail even though you lick your lips. Andrew makes a sound of annoyance at your eagerness, clearly not satisfied with your acting skills that are currently getting clouded by arousal.

"Grab the pink one."

The biggest one.

A punishment for expressing enjoyment, you think.

You take a breath and focus, forcing your hand to tremble as you reach into the drawer, grabbing the pink dildo and picking it up.

"Are you sure your wife would be comfortable—"

"She's not here," Andrew slams the drawer shut and you flinch, he cocks his head to the side, his tone dripping in challenge. "I'm your boss, right? Aren't I the one payin' you?" You blink up at him and nod shyly, feeling so small compared to his large frame that looms over you.

He hunches over slightly, puffing out his broad shoulders in such a predatory manner that your cunt throbs in tune with your rapid heartbeat. "Then do as your told."

You gulp audibly.

"Y-yes sir."

You lean over to your bucket of cleaning supplies and Andrew tsks— clicking his teeth in command like a master would to their servant.

His voice is thick with superiority, "No wipes. Use your mouth."

This time you let your jaw drop fully, but his tight face and pursed lips don't show any regard for your feigned shock. Your thighs squirm together once more before you start to give little kitten licks to the dildo.

You only get a few in before Andrew grabs your hair, yanking it backwards until your craning up to meet his eyes which are almost completely back. Its terribly embarrassing how loudly you moan at the first feel of him touching you, but you're so pent up, so wired with anticipation that you can't find it in you to care.

"I said your mouth, not your tongue. Swallow it to the back of your throat."

His demand is so harsh that it sends a new rush of slick to your panties that could pass for floss in a dentists office, and have probably have dissolved as such by now.

You gasp, tightening your hand around the toy as you falter with need completely. His grip on your hair constricts, shaking you once so that it pulls at your scalp and you whimper.

"Don't you wanna get paid, huh? That's what you're here for aren't you?" his condescending words have you nodding rapidly against his hold.

You manage a meek, "Yes, sir."

A satisfied grunt is all that sounds from him before you open your mouth and push the dildo in. Your lips part for it, using your spit as lubrication in order to slide it in and out easily.

You're so delirious with lust that your eyes flutter shut, pretending that its Andrews warm, pulsing cock in your mouth instead of a piece of silicone. He must be doing the same because when you take it to the back of your throat and gag, he lets out a tortured, "Yea-yea like that."

You nuzzle your head further into his rough grip and moan around the toy as you rock your hips against absolutely nothing, knees digging into the carpet as you do.

Andrew only lets you gag a few more times before withdrawing completely, yanking the dildo from your mouth and untangling his large hand from your hair.

Whimpering at the loss, you open your eyes just to see him a barely held together above you— he's panting quickly, his eyes are wild and one hand flexes repeatedly at his side while the other rubs at his still hard erection.

He slams the toy back into the drawer and you perk up, a tiny part of you hoping that he'll finally give you what you want.

But when he sees the gleam in your eyes, his narrow fiercely, as if you're ruining the fantasy for him by showing even an ounce of evident consent.

He steps back and you have to clutch the frills on your white apron so you don't lunge for him. Andrew stares a you for a second, tracing your glossy eyes and your spit coated lips, before his voice drops impossibly low, "My clothes are dirty. Take them off."

His head tilts on the last word, auburn curls jostling as he does, as if challenging you to give him any sort of tell that you want to undress him.

From now on, you won't let him see your approval.

You're no longer Mrs. Cody— you're a maid that's here to clean and nothing more.

You freeze, voice wobbling as your eyes widen nervously, "But… isn't that inappropriate sir?"

"Not if you're doing it to wash them," Mr. Cody shrugs in explanation. "Besides, you're not here to get me naked, right? Because I'm married. And if you try anything, that would make you a slut."

Your face heats, gloss coated lips parting into an 'o' before you shake your head defensively, "I'm not a slut!"

He nods, beckoning you over with two thick fingers, "So you'll be fine then."

You crawl to him, surely he wants you to keep feeling if the floors clean, right?

When you you reach him, you bunch up his shirt and he tugs off the rest, dropping the fabric next to your place on the floor dismissively. You don't look at the muscles on his biceps, or the hard planes of his abs, or the contoured valley between his pecs, because that would be wrong.

You timidly reach for his belt buckle, avoiding eye contact as it starts to clink apart beneath your shaky fingers.

"Look at me," he rasps, and you obey.

Mr. Cody makes a low groaning sound when he sees the fear in your eyes, the nervous scrunch of your eyebrows from being on your knees in front of a taken man who carries your salary in his wallet.

After his belt is gone, you shrug off his jeans, ignoring the prominent way the tendons on his thick thighs tense when he steps out of each pant leg. You especially have to ignore his massive cock that stands attention inches away from your face. There's a small wet patch that darkens the fabric and you see it twitch when you gasp at the sight of how big he is.

You bring your trembling hands to the waist band of his underwear, tears pool in your eyes as you think about how immoral it would be to see him naked save for his wedding ring.

"Those are clean," Mr. Cody stops you with a harsh grip to you wrist. Your watery eyes flick up to his dark ones and he growls in satisfaction when he sees your relief for the interruption. "Stand up and make the bed." He juts his chin towards the tousled sheets.

You stand up, knees wobbling from being on the ground for so long, you straighten your apron and pull your top up, trying to hide some of your cleavage that spills out of your uniform.

Silence grows as you make the bed, you try not to look at your boss or focus too much on where he is in the room because he's only in his underwear now.

When you lean over to fluff the pillow furthest from you, you feel Mr. Cody press up against your back. Your stomach drops when you feel his hard length rub your ass that's barely covered by your short black skirt. His hands are instantly on you, groping you and you freeze like a deer in headlights.

"Mr. Cody! W-what are you doing!?" your squeal of surprise is almost completely drowned out by his groan of satisfaction when he takes one of your breasts in his hand and squeezes it roughly. A whimper slips out of your mouth at the harsh feeling of his callouses grating against your sensitive bud through the fabric of your uniform.

He completely wraps himself around you, pulling you back until you're standing with him, your legs almost give out from fear.

Mr. Cody presses his lips to your ear, sending a chill down your spine when his deep voice speaks against it, "What? You're tellin' me you don't want this?"

Your eyes pinch shut and you try to fight off the utterly dishonorable heat pooling in your stomach as he ruts his large erection against you that's covered by only his boxers.

"I-Its inappropriate, sir… you're my boss and you're married! We can't!" you practically sob when one of his meaty hands slides down your stomach and cups you over your panties. He runs his middle finger along the seam, catching onto your pulsing clit and circling once, groaning when you shudder at the touch.

"Don't think its very appropriate to wear these slutty panties under this short skirt though, hm?" He mocks and your face warms at his tone.

"It's- ah ah- It's apart of the uniform," your voice sounds strangled like there's barbed wire around your throat. His forearm tightens around your chest, as if preparing you for—

"All this fuckin' wet part of the uniform too? Hm?"

A high pitched moan is ripped from you as Mr. Cody shoves your panties to the side and slides a thick finger inside of you. The stretch of even one of his fingers has you writhing and panting, you can't even imagine what his cock that's grinding against your backside would feel like— which you shouldn't be thinking about, because he's a married man!

"I-I-oh mmm-!" you can't seem to form an answer, shame and pleasure swirl in your belly as he plunges his finger in and out of you while bringing his thumb to rub your sensitive clit. Your eyes flutter shut, willing yourself to not think about how strong he is for manhandling you so easily— how powerful his brawny body feels behind you.

"That's what I thought," He grunts when you clench around him. "Don't act like you weren't beggin' for this all night, with this tiny fuckin' outfit and you're pathetic innocent act."

Mr. Cody's words have your legs shaking, you thrash in his arms, desperate not to prove him right by coming from his touch. He's your boss—you can't let him have you like this when his wife hired you to be here!

"Not an a-act! I'm here to- oh god- im here to cleannnnahhhh ah ah-!" you keen when he bends you forward slightly at the same time he curls his chubby finger, rubbing it against the soft spot inside you that twinkles stars behind your eyes.

"Is that right?" Mr. Cody nips at your ear, not letting up on his accusations.

He quickens the pace of his thumb and continues kneading his finger inside your soaked hole. "Feels like you're here to tempt a married man. To prance around in an outfit so short that I saw your pussy before you even made my bed."

You desperately fend off the impending orgasm, biting on your lip so hard that you expect to the metallic taste of blood to accompany the drool.

His fingers work in tandem to seek out and touch every part of you that makes you twitch beneath his deft thumb or tighten around his rough finger. Mr. Cody's movements are so expert that you become too mind numbingly pleasured to realize that he probably mastered these skills on his wife first.

You moan so loud that both of you jolt forward, you claw at his heavy forearms in attempt to distract from the fact that he hurtles you over the edge right as he humps you harder and rasps, "Tell me I'm right."

Static explodes behind your eyes.

The pleasure concentrates into white hot heat between your legs for a silent, peaking second before rattling outwards throughout your buzzing body. Your jaw slackens and your sounds are incoherent as you come apart on a your married bosses finger.

Mr. Cody scoffs when you finally slump in his arms, removing his digit from your pussy that tries to suck him in even as he pulls away. Your head lulls back onto his shoulder, he brings his hand up to your mouth and holds his finger in front of your face.

"Clean it," he demands— you can't form any protest on your loose tongue, so you obey, opening wide for him and closing your lips around his middle finger that tastes like you.

Your eyes are half shut, and your body is half collapsed— meaning you can't muster up any sort of opposing strength when Mr. Cody pulls his hand from your mouth, then bends you completely forward over the bed, until your chest is flat against the soft comforter and your hips bracket the edge of the mattress.

Through the euphoric humming in your head, you can vaguely make out the sound of him yanking down his boxers, then his heavy cock echoing as it slaps against his abdomen.

You panic instantly, eyes shooting wide and turning your head to look back at him, "What are you doing mmmph-!"

A palm of his presses your face back into the mattress, cutting off your shrieking. When you plant your arms to try and push yourself up he yanks them into one strong palm of his, pinning them to your lower back and tying them together with something— his discarded t-shirt maybe?

"What are you doing?" Mr. Cody mocks in a high pitched voice as he harshly shoves up your skirt, leaving you exposed for him once again. "I'm doing what you've been askin' for all night. You came here to get fucked like the easy slut you are. So I'm gonna fuck you until you admit it."

You gasp into the covers at his filthy words, a wave of shame washes over you when you clench around nothing in response. To prepare for his next move, maybe fight him off in some way, you try and squeeze your thighs together so he can't pry them open.

You yelp in surprise when he completely lifts you by your hips instead. Only when he shoves a pillow under your lower belly do you realize he's angling you perfectly for him.

He easily kicks apart your legs next, your tired heeled feet are no match for one of his strong ones as slide them where he wants them on the floor. Your whole frame is trembling by the time you feel his bare tip rub against your humiliatingly soaked pussy.

"Please Mr. Cody!" you muffle through the sheets, turning your head sideways to gasp for air before pleading. "You can't! I'm not on the pill!"

He grips your hips with a rumbling groan, kneading the fat in his tough hands before sliding one palm up your spine to arch you for him, while the other guides his cock until it notches at your entrance.

"Should've thought of that before you let me touch you like the desperate slut you are."

Without another word, Mr. Cody shoves his length inside you, his ragged groan drowns out your whimpers of pain. He's so big it feels like you're being split open, the angle he molded you into only adding to how deep he reaches inside your fluttering walls.

Tears brim your waterline at the stretch and you open your mouth to beg for a brief pause, that if he was going to take you how he wanted, could he please just give you a moment to adjust to his size? But your pleas are cut short before they even form behind your teeth when he pulls himself all the way back before slamming into you quickly.

A throaty cry sounds from you in response and he doesn't stop, Mr. Cody grunts as he starts to pound his hips against your ass as if he wants to hear that sound from you over and over again. You bury your face into the comforter as your moans border on bloody-murder screams, your hands tug at the restraint as a potential distraction from how good he's making you feel.

You whine in embarrassment when loud squelching noises echo throughout the room, no longer able to hide how intensely your body is enjoying this. Mr. Cody keeps his thrusts deep enough to punch your cervix each time he rams his hips forward.

"Jesus-" he huffs in condescending disbelief, not faltering his pace as he speaks in between grunts. "You hear how fuckin' wet you are, dont'cha? Wouldn't be able to hear you taking this cock so fuckin' loudly if you didn't want this."

You shake your head in denial even though you instinctively push back against him, trying to suck him in deeper to meet a single thrust before stopping yourself. Mr. Cody's hand that grips your hip slides to your ass, rubbing it gently and you clench around him in anticipation when you realize what's coming.

"Please sir! Don't-!" is all you can gasp out before a sharp smack lands to your cheek. A tear slips down your face and you heave a sob, wether the sound is from pleasure or fear, you can't tell at this point.

Your brain goes fuzzy again, the knowledge that your married employer is bringing you closer and closer to release has you wanting to scream in embarrassment, while the simultaneous need to touch your throbbing clit has you tugging against the restraints with a whine.

He just keeps pounding his cock into you, his deep groans float into your ears and you whimper at his guttural tone.

You try and wriggle away from him, to get even an inch of distance that will ease the electricity coursing through you as he fucks your body into a live wire that's waiting for a spark to detonate the impending explosion.

Another smack lands to your ass at your movements, a harsher hit this time that you know will leave the skin discolored afterwards. A grateful sounding moan in response accidentally slips from your lips as the pleasurable coil wraps tightly around the base of your spine.

Mr. Cody notices the change instantly, and he halts his movements altogether. You let out a pathetic sob of discontent and he grunts, only beginning to move again when you reflexively arch further, pushing back into him helplessly as the colorful orgasm fades into the distance.

But his resuming movements only pushes the fat tip of him in and out of you, nothing more. You think he's edging you because he's mad about getting no admission of guilt from you so far.

Your suspensions are proven correct when he rasps, "Tell me you didn't come here to clean. Tell me the real reason why you're here."

"M-Mr. Cody please-!" another harsh slap of his palm against your sore cheek has you choking on air. Your shoulders are starting to get tired from tugging at the restraint wrapped around your hands.

"Didn't tell you to say my name," he thrusts in fully to get your attention, his thick length reaching that special spot within you just once before retreating back to shallow thrusts. "Tell the truth. Tell me that you showed up here askin' for this. That you wear these fuckin' panties for the married men whose houses you clean like a little slut who asks for it."

You feel like you're being tortured, your mind protests his degrading words wholeheartedly, yet your body welcomes his harsh tone so strongly that you constrict around his length every time he speaks up. You give it one last-ditch effort to object, "I'm n-not a-!"

Mr. Cody slams his hips back into yours the next second, the pleasurable stretch of him as deep as he can go instantly sets your body back on track to a release so tangible you'll do just about anything to taste it.

"Say it," he commands with another smack to your ass and you're a goner.

" I- I came here for- oh god- for this! I'm a slut- ahh! wear these panties f-for married men!" you squeak out.

Mr. Cody growls, "All married men or just for me?"

Your eyes roll back into your head as his rough pace sends anticipatory tremors throughout your body. "Y-You! ohgodohgod- Just for you Mr. Cody!"

He bends froward, putting all his weight on your lower half, the pressure immediately makes his cock feel impossibly bigger inside your walls that contract around him. The feeling only adds to the hot gasoline that's being poured all over your writhing body that's aching for a match to set the flame.

He nips at your ear, bringing a calloused hand to your front, he harshly pinches your clit once then commands, "Come right now or I won't pay you."

You're set ablaze on the spot.

Your body convulses beneath him as everything flashes bright white, your cunt flutters around him and drool starts to drip out of your mouth at the euphoric feeling of your brain melting to sticky sweet syrup that sloshes in between your ears. Your airy moans are incoherent as you come harder than you ever have before at the hands of a married man.

A man whose not done using you yet.

Mr. Cody straightens again, then lifts up your hips until you're suspended in air. His powerful thrusts that haven't subsided as you shake and moan only falter when he finds an angle that has him twitching inside you.

"Pussy's squeezin' me so f-fuckin' tight- god- just beggin' to be filled arent'cha?" is what he grunts over the loud slapping of his hips ramming forward.

"P-please," is all you manage to gurgle out through the disco-party-floating-on-cloud-nine feeling that still courses through you— you're not entirely sure what you're pleading for.

"Yea, yeahhhh," Mr. Cody huffs in response, the grip on your hips turns painful enough for you to whimper. "Such a- urgh- such a slut. Want it so fuckin' bad dont'cha? Yea? Yea? I-I'll give it to ya."

His words start to string together, morphing into animal-like growls rather then actual syllables as he chases his release, holding your pussy to him like a fleshlight that he has— that he owns for this sole purpose.

"Gonna f-fill you up so fuckin- ohgod ohfuck- gonna mmph- oh ye-yeahhhh-" a guttural groan slices through Mr. Cody's ramblings, vibrating in his throat as you feel warmth flood your insides, coating your walls in his hot, white release. You feel him twitch and pulse inside you as his voice starts to crack around each moan.

He keeps rocking his hips against your ass until both of you boarder on overstimulation, only when you release a broken whimper does he collapse forward, bracing his forearms next to your floaty head and dropping his sweaty forehead between your shoulder blades, rubbing his skin against the fabric of your mussed up uniform.

The two of you heavily breath for a few minutes before Andrew slides out of you— your husband Andrew.

Who shushes you gently when you whine at the loss of him as he tucks himself back into his boxers and fixes your panties. He rolls your lax body over, patting your cheek lightly to get you to look at him again. When your eyes flutter open and you shoot him a fucked out, goofy grin, he huffs in relief.

"Hi sweetheart," he says carefully, looking nervous as he assesses any part of you that he can get his hazel eyes on and your heart squeezes.

"Hi Andrew," it comes out as a soft croak due to all the screaming, and he flinches slightly.

"Did I hurt you? W-was I too mean?" his tone is so anxious that you'd hug him if your body wasn't completely spent. All you manage to muster up is a craning forward of your neck to give him a gentle kiss on the lips.

"Not too mean, didn't hurt— felt so good."

Andrew's eyes light up, a smile that shows his cute crooked teeth dawns his face along with a blush that spreads to the tips of his ears, "Yeah? It was good?"

You nod though your yawn, "Liked it a lot. Was so hot."

He places gentle kisses all over your tired face, rubbing a palm up and down your tight-covered thigh soothingly. Making sure not to put an excessive amount of weight on your body, Andrew buries his face in your neck and suckles at the skin there before nodding, "Yea- Yea that was so fucking hot."

Your nose scrunches as you giggle, you manage to toss one arm around the back of his neck to bring him some comfort too. You take on a teasing tone, "You liked it Mr. Cody?"

A soft groan sounds from his throat and is kissed onto yours, as he nods again. You yawn a second time and he pulls back, giving you another soft peck to your lips before rubbing his nose against yours.

"Gonna take this off'a you and run you a bath, then we can sleep. That sound good?" you know it's not an actual ask— your husband will take care you either way, but you lazily nod in agreement anyway.

Andrew scoops you up bridal style into his arms, carrying you towards the bathroom to bathe you— but not before whispering into your ear, "Gotta put that ring back on as soon as possible sweetheart. Need to let every maid know who my Mrs. Cody is."

Your head laid on his chest, listening to his slowing heartbeat. His arm was loosely around you, providing a happy weight, keeping you grounded.

“I didn’t know you had a thing for uniforms,” Jack teased.

You turned your head up slightly, smiling sheepishly as you made eye contact. “Many women do. I don’t know why it’s so sexy,” you pondered. “You just look so strong, capable, and authoritative.” You pressed a kiss to his chest.

“Hmm.” Jack put his other arm behind his head. “Whatever the reason, if it get’s you hot and bothered like that, I’ll wear it more often,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Is there a male equivalent to that? Are there female uniforms that turn you on?”

“Are you asking about men in general or me specifically?”

“You specifically,” you said, rubbing your finger in circles on his bare chest. “If there’s something I can wear to turn you on, I should know.”

“You would turn me on if you wore a garbage bag, sweetheart,” Jack laughed.

“Hey, if you’re into that.” You shrugged. He gave you a teasing squeeze with the arm wrapped around you.

“I can’t think of anything specific of the top of my head,” Jack said.

“Really?” You sat up in disbelief, turning to him. “Nothing?” You said, putting your leg over his waist to straddle him.

“No… schoolgirl?… ‘please sir, i’ll do anything to pass this class. ” You batted your eyelashes as you put on a high voice.

You saw the realisation dawn on him, as if he hadn’t even considered the option. He stayed quiet so you continued.

“Or… nurse?…’i’m here to give you a sponge bath.’”

Jack’s eyes glossed over as he bit his lip. You saw his mind process the idea of you, dressed in a porno worthy outfit and the tips of his ears turned red.

“Aha! Something tickled your fancy,” you pressed a finger in his face.

“Maybe. Can you give me some more examples?” He smirked as he rested his hands on your thighs.

You chuckled as you rattled off more porn categories. “I could wear a maid outfit,” you started. “Your house is clean, Mr. Abbot. Would you like me to clean your cock next?” You grinned as Jack threw his head back with a laugh.

“How much porn do you watch, sweetheart?”

“Shh, I’m brainstorming.” You pushed a finger to his lips. “I could be your secretary? ‘Mr. Abbot, i’m sorry i misfiled those documents, i understand if you need to punish me.”

Jack felt his cock twitch at the ideas you were putting in his head. He hasn’t watched porn very often as he’s gotten older. And with your young libido, he hasn’t even felt the necessity. Porn could never hold a candle to you anyway.

So he told the truth when he said he couldn’t think of anything just now. He simply hadn’t considered all the possibilities.