[[[[the world changed]]]] for Hope
by Vindaloo Curry
It started out like so many other soccer-mom-goes-to-the-salon/daddy-goes-to-work sorts of day. Hope had just gotten the kids off to school and was thinking about what needed to get done. She had a nail appointment at noon, so she thought she’d try to get to the bank and post office before th
[[[[theworldchanged]]]]
Oh, what was that odd feeling? It felt like . . . I’m not sure. Hope stood still for a moment, but didn’t feel anything else different. Huh. Not sure. Well, best get on the road. “Honey, I’m headed out for errands. Do you need anything?” There was no answer from the basement, so either Jim didn’t hear her or he had his headphones on.
Hope walked out the front door instead of the door to the garage, to the car. She wasn’t sure why she went out the front door, but she then realized that she needed to go to Grace’s house two doors down. Hope wasn’t sure why she needed to see Grace, and then realized she didn’t need to see Grace—she needed to see Grace’s partner (they’re not married—a little scandalous) whose name was also Jim. She wasn’t exactly sure why she needed to talk to Grace’s Jim, but she was sure she did.
Grace and Jim had moved into their house a few days ago, and Hope and Grace hadn’t gotten to know each other yet. As Hope walked down the walk to the curb, she thought she’d introduce herself again and maybe have a quick coffee. But then she saw Grace leaving her house, headed toward Hope’s place.
As they passed each other, Hope started to say “Hello!”, but Grace walked passed her with just a curt nod and kept walking without looking back. Hope watched her pass, muttered, “Bitch” to herself, and found herself still headed for Grace’s front door. I’ll square things up with that one later.
Hope stepped into Grace’s house without knocking on the door or anything. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t knock or ring the bell. It just didn’t seem that important, and the urge to see Grace’s Jim had grown pretty strong. She heard banging sounds from the basement stairs, like he was working on something down there, so she took off her 3″ strappy heels (why did I wear these heels today? They’re kinda uncomfortable. Hmmm.) and walked quietly down the stairway. As she slowly walked down she found herself unbuttoning the top button of her blouse. Stop that! It’s not like I want to seduce this guy! I don’t even know him! She stopped after two buttons.
The basement was full of boxes and things half-unpacked. She heard a power sander being used but couldn’t see anything until she got to the bottom of the stairs. She came around a pile of boxes to see Jim working on some sort of furniture. What she paid no mind to was that Jim was naked.
Hope should have been scandalized by this, and should have gone running back up the stairs yelling “Sorry, sorry!” But what rivtetted her attention was the bench. It was an A-frame mission-style bench, about hip-high, with a narrow padded top about as wide as a balance beam. Hope couldn’t take her eyes off of it—it was one of the most beautiful pieces of furniture she’d ever seen—of anything she’d ever seen. She stepped toward it, her gaze fixed on it.
She scarcely heard Jim say, “Oh. Hi” as if Hope was just an old friend who stopped by. Hope mumbled a “Hi” back at him as she reached out to touch the bench’s wooden surface, to feel its exquisite smoothness. He gasped slightly as she felt how soft and beautiful and perfect the finish was. She felt the narrow cushion on top of it, and the feel and smell of fine leather hit her like a freight train. She spent a long moment taking it all in, and said, “Oh! This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Did you make this?” Why am I doing this?
“Uh, yeah, I did. I finished it last night, and I was just buffing it shiny. Do you really like it?”
Hope turned to Jim and said, “I want this more than anything I’ve ever seen.” She scarcely noticed that Jim was a tall slender man with thinning hair and a penis that was pretty long but completely flaccid at the moment. A thought occurred to Hope, but it was a very small thought which she ordinarily would never, ever think. But that thought might just blossom in a moment. “May I . . . get on it?”
Jim stammered, “Uh, sure, sure! Here’s a little stool to step up on—makes it easier to get on.” He scooted a small stepstool up to the bench for her.
“Would it be all right if I,” Hope murmurred, “get a little more comfortable before I do?” She unbuttoned the third button on her blouse to emphasize the point. Shit! What am I doing?
“Uh, yeah, fine.”
Hope got the blouse undone and slowly took it off. “A gentleman would turn his back while I did this, ya know?” Please tell me to get dressed and get out of here! I am so out of control!
“Yeah, a gentleman would do that.” Jim didn’t move. Still completely flaccid.
Hope smiled to herself, the small thought blossoming into something larger and damp. Good, he’s not a gentleman. Hope slipped her skirt off and decided to push Jim a little further. “Would you be so kind as to remove my bra hooks? This bra is a little difficult to get out of.” She turned her back to him and stuck out her ass slightly. Stop that!
“Let me help you with that.” Jim reached out awkwardly and undid the bra hooks. Hope shrugged her breasts loose and the bra fell to the floor. Hope turned back around.
“See anything you like?” she asked seductively.
“Yeah, yeah, I do. Nice rack.” Jim made no move toward her, no sign of any attraction for her.
Still in her briefies, Hope slunk to the bench. She looked back at Jim, who was still standing in the same place, still limp. The bench had small ledges for arms and legs, so she stepped up on the stepstool, climbed up on the bench, and slithered her body down onto the cushion. The leather felt warm to her skin, and the shape of the bench separated her legs to make her open and available to anyone Oh god, to ANYONE! She got lost in her head for a moment, drinking in the wonderful feels she was feeling and obscene thoughts she was beginning to think.
She felt Jim approach the bench. “Do you like it?” he husked.
“Yes. Yes!” Hope purred. What the HELL am I doing? I must be some sort of pervert!
Hope heard something being scooted on the floor but was too bemused to open her eyes—she was loving what she was feeling and thinking too much.
Jim got close to her and said, “Let me help you with that.” She felt something light get draped across her back, hips, and arms, and then suddenly she was being held tightly to the bench. She opened her eyes in panic and saw straps holding her down.
“I think maybe we’ve . . . “ Hope looked up at Jim, but the first thing she saw was his cock.
His gorgeous cock. Her entire world stopped for a long moment.
It was fully erect and was throbbing slightly. It wasn’t all THAT long, but it was quite thick with a beautiful head. A drop of pre-cum had beaded on it and then slowly dripped off. Hope started to pant, and that thought that started small was now blood-engorged and drippy wet and ready for a good fucking.
“You still have your panties on. Let me help you with that.” Jim’s measured voice hadn’t changed a bit. He might have been discussing grades of sandpaper. He stepped out of her view.
Hope tried to look around to see what he was doing, and realized that there was now a full-length antique framed mirror right in front of the bench. She could clearly see behind her. Jim appeared in the mirror, standing behind the bench and holding a straight razor in his hand. Hope started to scream and then realized that the sight had caused to her to gush lube onto her crotch and thighs. She was horrified and aroused.
Jim grabbed the stride of her panties, pulled them away from her body, and neatly sliced the stride in two with the razor. Hope found herself panting and wanting. WANTING!
Jim looked at her face in the mirror, saw the ecstasy, and remarked, “Here. Let me help you with that.” And with that he stepped forward and slowly inserted himself into her engorged pussy.
Ohgodohgodohgod! He’s so big, and it’s so tight! Jim slowly withdrew from her, and then pushed forward again. She was gushing lube. Everytime he pushed in, she thought she’d explode. And then she exploded. And again. And again. She struggled against her bonds, which made her explode more. She’d look at the mirror, and there was that magnificent bull giving her the fuck she’d always wanted, and she’d explode again.
This went on for ages.
After some immeasurable time, Hope realized that Jim was no longer inserted in her. He had pushed the mirror back slightly and standing right in front of her. His rigid cock glistened with her cunt juices and smelled like heaven.
Jim looked down at her, saw the lust in her eyes. “Here, let me help you with that.” He pushed forward a little more, and Hope opened her mouth willingly and lovingly. That cock was just the right size—long enough to just touch the back of her throat and thick enough to make her jaws ache slightly when he was all the way in. She sucked eagerly at it, wanting the reward that she had worked so hard to get to.
No hands. No talk. Just a hot, thorough fuck at both ends. After another immeasurable time, he penetrated her lips slightly, and she could feel the spasm working up his urethra, about to fill her mouth with his animal, salty semen—exactly what she wanted! And then
[[[[theworldchanged]]]]
She stopped sucking on his cock, stopped wanting to help it, but it was too late for the splash! of semen that fell on her tongue, and then the next, and the next. She held the semen in her mouth, not sure what to do with it.
Jim stopped. “Hey, lady, I’m so sorry! I’m . . . not sure what . . . happened then! I am so sorry!” The cock came out of her mouth, and he stammered repeated apologies while he removed the straps from her body. Hope tried to gather what little dignity she had, along with her clothes, and ran upstairs. She hurriedly put her clothes back on (sans panties, which had been left in the basement), and was so humiliated that she still had the semen in her mouth. All she wanted to do was run home and get rid of it there.
She flew out the door, blouse misbuttoned and barefoot. She walked fast back toward her house. And then she noticed Grace, who seemed to be doing much the same thing—a fast walk back to her home, mostly dressed. As they approached each other, they both stopped, wanting to yell out their frustrations and disgust at each other, and in doing so both let semen dribble down their chins.
Everything stopped, and the horror and sex and want swirled in their minds and bodies. White foamy cum ran down their chins and necks, and they stared at each other for a long moment.