"Caitlyn and Terrance"
by c.w. cobblestone
Everything was perfect. The roast warmed in the oven, the veggies simmered on
the stove, and my wife Caitlyn hummed a tune in the bathroom as she applied her
makeup. I turned down the burner and headed to the dining room for one last
check.
The table was set for two with our good plates and glasses. The silverware was
polished and arranged neatly; the linen napkins were properly folded. A candle
graced the middle of the table, which was covered with our best tablecloth.
I jumped at the sound of four loud raps at the front door. According to my
watch, it was only a quarter to 8. He was 15 minutes early.
My mouth went dry as I approached the foyer. Bowing my head, I reached for the
doorknob and pulled open the front door.
Terrance strutted inside, took off his coat and handed it to me. "Bring me a
drink. Where's Cait?"
"Um, she's in the bathroom getting ready for you, sir."
"Well, tell her I'm here."
My wife had the blowdryer on, which explained why she hadn't heard her lover's
knock. I stood in the doorway with my head bowed, peeking up every few seconds
until she caught eye-contact with me through the mirror.
"What?" She spritzed her hair with a bottle of hairspray and arranged her bangs.
"Um, Master Terrance is here."
"Well, why didn't you say so, dumb-shit?" She applied a coat of lipstick and
pushed past me.
I bent over to pick up several discarded Kleenexes my wife had tossed to the
bathroom floor, when I heard Terrance's gruff voice: "Where's my drink?"
With a gulp, I dashed toward the kitchen; on the way I peeked in the living
room and saw my wife and her boyfriend making out on the couch. I fixed
Terrance's usual Jack and Coke, slipped the serving tray from the cupboard, and
minced to the front room. As I've been trained, I knelt by the couch, head
bowed, while Caitlyn and her boyfriend dry-humped on the sofa.
I knelt there for a good 20 minutes before they came up for air. Terrance
snapped his fingers and I handed him his drink. He sat up and took a sip.
"Uggh!" He spit the mouthful back into the glass. "The goddamn ice melted." He
glared at me.
"Sir, I am so sorry; I'll get you another drink right away, sir --"
Without warning, he leaned forward and poured his drink on my head. Caitlyn
giggled as the sticky liquid dripped from my hair and nose. "You need to clean
that off the floor," she said.
Terrance handed me his glass. "You're getting an ass-whipping later, fag," he
said.
"Thank you, sir." I gritted my teeth. It wasn't my fault they kept me kneeling
there until the ice melted!
When I returned with the fresh drink, Terrance had the remote control in one
hand while his other was draped over my wife's shoulder and playing with her
tit. I knelt and offered the tray to my master. He downed the drink and rattled
the ice. "Refill," he said.
My wife stretched and yawned. "I'll take a glass of wine."
I was back in a jiffy, kneeling in front of the couch with their drinks. They
sat up and took them from the tray.
"I brought you some laundry," Terrance said. "It's out in the car."
"Thank you, sir."
"No problem. Run down and get it; you need to get started now, because you still
have to get my garage clean by Sunday." He threw his keys at me; they bounced
off my chest and fell to the floor.
"Yes, sir." I trotted outside, his keys jingling. His SUV sat in our driveway;
whenever Terrance visits, my wife makes me park on the street so he can share
the driveway with her car. I'm sure the neighbors wonder whose truck is always
parked there – sometimes for days on end. Nobody ever asked, although I had an
answer ready if they did: I'd tell them it was my brother visiting.
I opened the door and sighed when I saw two large garbage bags in the back,
overflowing with dirty clothes. I lugged the bags into the house and began
sorting the whites from the colors.
My wife's whiny voice interrupted me: "What are you doing? We're hungry."
I ran upstairs and served dinner. As usual, I stood near the table like a
butler, head bowed, waiting for one of them to snap their fingers and point at
whatever they wanted. Otherwise, I was ignored as they talked about various
topics.
Halfway through dinner, Terrance reached under the table and began playing with
my wife's pussy through her slacks. She giggled at first, but then sat back in
her chair and threw her head back. I focused on my shoes, not daring to watch
them.
Terrance smiled at Caitlyn. "Want to go upstairs, or should we finish eating
first?"
She pushed her hair back. "What do you think, lover? I'm ready?"
They rose and walked away hand-in-hand. Terrance glanced over his shoulder at
me.
"I wouldn't screw around too long on my laundry," he said. "That garage is a
mess, and I want it sparkling by the time I come back on Sunday."
Caitlyn stopped in her tracks. "Wait a minute, Terry – I thought you were gonna
give the wimp an ass-whipping? I love watching you thrash the little creep; it
turns me on like crazy."
"Well, I'm ready to fuck now," he said. "Besides, the fag has a lot of work to
do." He turned to me. "I owe you one ass-whipping. Now get the fuck out of here.
Hubba hubba."
My wife's eyes twinkled. "Have fun cleaning my man's garage," she said before
taking Terrance's hand and leading him toward the bedroom.
by c.w. cobblestone
Everything was perfect. The roast warmed in the oven, the veggies simmered on
the stove, and my wife Caitlyn hummed a tune in the bathroom as she applied her
makeup. I turned down the burner and headed to the dining room for one last
check.
The table was set for two with our good plates and glasses. The silverware was
polished and arranged neatly; the linen napkins were properly folded. A candle
graced the middle of the table, which was covered with our best tablecloth.
I jumped at the sound of four loud raps at the front door. According to my
watch, it was only a quarter to 8. He was 15 minutes early.
My mouth went dry as I approached the foyer. Bowing my head, I reached for the
doorknob and pulled open the front door.
Terrance strutted inside, took off his coat and handed it to me. "Bring me a
drink. Where's Cait?"
"Um, she's in the bathroom getting ready for you, sir."
"Well, tell her I'm here."
My wife had the blowdryer on, which explained why she hadn't heard her lover's
knock. I stood in the doorway with my head bowed, peeking up every few seconds
until she caught eye-contact with me through the mirror.
"What?" She spritzed her hair with a bottle of hairspray and arranged her bangs.
"Um, Master Terrance is here."
"Well, why didn't you say so, dumb-shit?" She applied a coat of lipstick and
pushed past me.
I bent over to pick up several discarded Kleenexes my wife had tossed to the
bathroom floor, when I heard Terrance's gruff voice: "Where's my drink?"
With a gulp, I dashed toward the kitchen; on the way I peeked in the living
room and saw my wife and her boyfriend making out on the couch. I fixed
Terrance's usual Jack and Coke, slipped the serving tray from the cupboard, and
minced to the front room. As I've been trained, I knelt by the couch, head
bowed, while Caitlyn and her boyfriend dry-humped on the sofa.
I knelt there for a good 20 minutes before they came up for air. Terrance
snapped his fingers and I handed him his drink. He sat up and took a sip.
"Uggh!" He spit the mouthful back into the glass. "The goddamn ice melted." He
glared at me.
"Sir, I am so sorry; I'll get you another drink right away, sir --"
Without warning, he leaned forward and poured his drink on my head. Caitlyn
giggled as the sticky liquid dripped from my hair and nose. "You need to clean
that off the floor," she said.
Terrance handed me his glass. "You're getting an ass-whipping later, fag," he
said.
"Thank you, sir." I gritted my teeth. It wasn't my fault they kept me kneeling
there until the ice melted!
When I returned with the fresh drink, Terrance had the remote control in one
hand while his other was draped over my wife's shoulder and playing with her
tit. I knelt and offered the tray to my master. He downed the drink and rattled
the ice. "Refill," he said.
My wife stretched and yawned. "I'll take a glass of wine."
I was back in a jiffy, kneeling in front of the couch with their drinks. They
sat up and took them from the tray.
"I brought you some laundry," Terrance said. "It's out in the car."
"Thank you, sir."
"No problem. Run down and get it; you need to get started now, because you still
have to get my garage clean by Sunday." He threw his keys at me; they bounced
off my chest and fell to the floor.
"Yes, sir." I trotted outside, his keys jingling. His SUV sat in our driveway;
whenever Terrance visits, my wife makes me park on the street so he can share
the driveway with her car. I'm sure the neighbors wonder whose truck is always
parked there – sometimes for days on end. Nobody ever asked, although I had an
answer ready if they did: I'd tell them it was my brother visiting.
I opened the door and sighed when I saw two large garbage bags in the back,
overflowing with dirty clothes. I lugged the bags into the house and began
sorting the whites from the colors.
My wife's whiny voice interrupted me: "What are you doing? We're hungry."
I ran upstairs and served dinner. As usual, I stood near the table like a
butler, head bowed, waiting for one of them to snap their fingers and point at
whatever they wanted. Otherwise, I was ignored as they talked about various
topics.
Halfway through dinner, Terrance reached under the table and began playing with
my wife's pussy through her slacks. She giggled at first, but then sat back in
her chair and threw her head back. I focused on my shoes, not daring to watch
them.
Terrance smiled at Caitlyn. "Want to go upstairs, or should we finish eating
first?"
She pushed her hair back. "What do you think, lover? I'm ready?"
They rose and walked away hand-in-hand. Terrance glanced over his shoulder at
me.
"I wouldn't screw around too long on my laundry," he said. "That garage is a
mess, and I want it sparkling by the time I come back on Sunday."
Caitlyn stopped in her tracks. "Wait a minute, Terry – I thought you were gonna
give the wimp an ass-whipping? I love watching you thrash the little creep; it
turns me on like crazy."
"Well, I'm ready to fuck now," he said. "Besides, the fag has a lot of work to
do." He turned to me. "I owe you one ass-whipping. Now get the fuck out of here.
Hubba hubba."
My wife's eyes twinkled. "Have fun cleaning my man's garage," she said before
taking Terrance's hand and leading him toward the bedroom.
