| Straight: Lusty Liaisons: The Great Getaway (5/13) |
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pant outfits she had bought during her last trip to town for supplies. A sadist must have designed the outfit she had on. The bastard must have enjoyed knowing every man who saw a woman in it would suddenly sprout wood. But no, it wasn't the outfit that enhanced my pain, nor was it her verbal assaults, nor even her imposing me to exile. The most horrible torture that she could inflict upon me was what she would do just before physical therapy each day. You see, every day exactly two and one half hours before she would come to help me with my therapy, she would walk slowly through the den and go through the glass doors that led to our enclosed patio. Then she would stand near one of the chase lounges there, set down a bottle of suntan oil on the table beside it, and then very slowly peel off her shorts, then her halter-top, and lastly and even more slowly she would slide down her panties and step out of them one foot at a time. This process would drag out to at least ten minutes because she would always seem to have trouble with ties, snaps, buckles, zippers, buttons and other assorted fasteners. After that, she would take the next thirty minutes, I know because I timed it once, ever so slowly applying suntan oil to every inch of skin on her body she could reach. Then, she would lay on the chase lounge with her legs toward me, first on her belly for about an hour. Next, she would turn over and lie on her back for another hour. The entire time she lay there, she would have her legs spread just enough to give me the most agonizing view of her glistening pussy. And there are two reasons that I know she devised this little show to torture me. The first is that she can't get a tan; she never has been able to. In fact, she even told me once that she had completely given up on the idea of ever getting a tan. All she does is burn if she does not oil up before getting in the sun. And the second, you won’t believe this part, it's impossible to get a tan in our covered patio! So, I hope you can understand why what happened later that night was a welcome distraction. Chapter Four - “Knock Knock” The doctor was right: after staying off my leg for three months, I was pretty sure from the way I was tolerating my daily therapy that I could get around on it. Granted, it was going to hurt for a while, but I was sure it was usable. When I discovered this, I chose not to share this information with Vicky. In reflection, I think it was because the only time she even spoke to me, let alone got close to me, was during our daily therapy sessions together. There I was, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, reclining on the couch in the den. I had my laptop and was processing the day's orders from our eBay site. Vicky had gone back into the seclusion of our bedroom immediately after she finished helping me with my last therapy session for the day. There was a knock at the back door. With all the other lights off, whoever it was |
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Ta Ta lovers..........