The following week, Clare and I reconnected. We had spent a lot of time apart and playing separately, and while that was fun for a short while, we both needed some couple time for our relationship to stay healthy.
I had Sunday with my fiancée; we kissed like teenagers in the cinema, held hands during a walk around a nearby lake at sunset, and then she donned her new lingerie, attached her strapon and we fucked like rabbits to leave me a cum-covered, satisfied mess.
After work on Monday, we visited a local restaurant, and the following evening we fed the ducks and geese at the village park. However, an exhibition of Clare's power and dominance was never too far away, and we went to see Scott and Virginia on Thursday. The house was still a bit of a mess as Scott and Iain were not quite Kim and Aggie. My partner gave me a French Maid's outfit she had borrowed from Victoria's collection, and ordered me to go clean the kitchen, the lounge, master bedroom and the toilet.
It was humiliating, but everyone knew that, and they also knew that it would make me horny. Which it did. Scott and Virginia got a cleaner house, and Clare dominated me without having to lift a finger. My lover teased me on the way home, and I had to seek Martin's mouth to get any sort of satisfaction.
To use up some of my remaining annual leave, I had agreed with my manager that I would take every Friday off work until the end of the holiday year. Over breakfast, Clare gave me a printout of an order that she needed me to collect from the other side of the county. "It's near Stockport. They said it would be ready after lunch."
"If you're going that way, could you look in on one of my flats," Martin asked. "It's in my block of apartments near the airport. It's the property my businesses use when they have visitors to Manchester. Leo left yesterday, and I got the cleaners visiting tomorrow, but if you could put the bedding on to wash and hang it up when it's finished, it'll dry by the time they visit." He smiled as he passed me the keys.
Martin's flat was only a couple of miles away from Bobby's place of work, and I sent the warehouse worker a text message to ask if he wanted to meet for lunch. When he did, I shared the address and drove in the shimmering magenta VW Beetle. Clare and Victoria had selected some matching bright pink hotpants, with a silver, metallic T-shirt for me to wear for the day, and the outfit was eye-catching and embarrassing. On the journey to the upmarket apartment, I stopped at a small supermarket and turned a few heads as I bought burgers, buns, frozen chips and a dessert. Nobody said a word to me, but I felt the eyes follow me around the aisles.
Martin owned the half of the flats in the small complex; seven were part of his property empire, built from the windfall of the sale of his company. He reserved one for use by the companies he had a stake in; it was near to a tram stop, the city airport and the motorway, well away from his private life but close enough for visitors to use. The modern flat was on the first floor of the three-storey block; the balcony overlooked a business park on the outskirts of the terminal.
As I opened the door, the thunderous sound of a jumbo jet taking off deafened me and I looked into the compact apartment. It comprised two double bedrooms, a kitchenette/living room and a bathroom with the largest shower I had ever seen in a flat.
The entire accommodation was brilliant white, granite grey or black, with trendy spotlights throughout. I put the food in the fridge and stripped the master bed. The last occupant had left the room he had used in a tidy state, but there were crumbs on the floor, and in the sheets. I replaced the bedding and stuffed the dirty linen in the washing machine. I hoovered the apartment as I listened to music and washed the couple of used plates by hand.
Bobby startled me. "You left the door unlocked," he said as he closed the front door and grinned at me. "What's this? Clare thrown you out?"
The 24-year-old dropped a small rucksack onto the clean carpet and kicked off his shoes. "Hiya," I called, and smiled at his wide eyes, taking in my outrageous outfit. "It's Clare and Victoria. It's what being a sub is all about. They wanted to embarrass me. After lunch, I have to go to a clothing manufacturer to pick up two Latex garments. In this." He sniggered. "I thought it would be good to meet up, have some lunch. I got some food in, there're some cards, some games, go for a walk. We could visit the sauna, but we'd only get a couple of hours before you need to go to work and..."
Bobby sighed. "It's fantastic to have someone just want to meet, y'know?" He coughed. "I don't have many friends I can just hang out with. But I could do with a shower if you want to do... anything. I've not had one today, and I'd hate..."
"You know I'd go down on you, even if you'd run a hundred marathons," I said with a coy smile. "But I've not had one either. Shall we share one?" I smirked and gestured towards the bathroom with the massive cubicle. "It's a two person jobbie." His lips curled into a grin.
"Yeah, OK. And I have a series I'm watching on a USB stick. Mate gave it to me ages ago. Called Spartacus, but there are loads of sex scenes. Happy to watch one of those."
"There's a TV in the bedroom," I replied. I pushed the magenta spandex to my ankles and dropped it onto the soft leather sofa. Bobby locked the front door and unfastened his blue boiler suit. We both stripped in full view of the balcony window, oblivious to the office workers who could see into the apartment.
The large glass cubicle had a wide shower head over the enclosure and I turned the top dial to start the water. The cramped bathroom had squeezed the oversized booth into the space, but there was little room around the sink, toilet and towel rail for Bobby and I to move as we waited for the warm water to flow.
On the shelf, a previous occupant had left strawberry shower gel, and I beckoned Bobby into the steaming cubicle. I squirted a generous portion of the pink soap into my palm and slowly started rubbing his flesh with the lathering bubbles. He smiled as my fingers swept over his hairless torso. His cock rose as I knelt in front of him and soaped his thighs and his balls. He groaned as I parted his buttcheeks and blew softly between his arse. My slippery hands glided over his back and my body pressed against his.
Spooning him in the hot, steamy shower. My hands wrapped around his body as I breathed on the back of his neck. My fingers swirled against his nipples as I pressed my frame into his. It was deeply erotic and sensual. Deliberately so. Two weeks of salacious and suggestive messages going backwards and forth between us had taken its toll, and I wanted to play with him.
He turned and pushed me back against the wall. His fiery, lustful eyes were ablaze, and he took the gel from the shelf. The feminine soap pooled in his hands, and he lathered my body with wild abandon. Fingers slithered over my cock and balls as they scooted across my slippery flesh. He looked lustfully at my erect dick, and I wrapped my hands on his waist to pull him closer.
Our lips touched, and his tongue caressed mine. A longing kiss, driven by lust. Our pricks rubbed against each other as our hips ground and bucked. My hands gripped his arse, and my fingers squeezed his buttocks as he pushed me against the cool tiled wall.
He broke from our kiss, panting, and put his forehead on mine. "Shall we dry off and slip under the duvet?" I suggested against the failing warm water. "I would love to snuggle up to you."
He hummed, and I released my grip on his wet arse. We took a towel each and hurriedly dried our bodies. The large television in the master bedroom directly faced the bed, with the freshly laundered bedsheets, and we slipped into the white sheets after I had inserted his USB stick into the smart TV.
