BABS
Babs came into the living room, stopping for a moment to look at herself in the mirror over the chiffonier. She fluffed up her russet hair and saw that it was nice and curly, and smiled.
She could stand over him like this-make him kiss her boots, or-remember the time Arlen had to rub his dingie against the chiffonier table leg?
Arlen just stared up at her magnificent tan tits, pushing out of the magenta-no that was when she was wearing a Merry Widow, wasn't she? Babs snorted.
Supporting that gut on his bare knees in the carpet. Oh my.
Babs now examined her breasts in the mirror's reflection.
Encased in a purple body stocking, her tits were close together and fixing to burst from the cleavage.
Ah, just like when Babs won first runner-up as Miss Buttermilk competing against the other state contestants in the Strawberry Festival Teen Sensation.
Babs remembered that Miss Ponsonby County had just made it past her that year, but if Babs had worn the swimsuit she'd wanted...
Yes, instead of the one her Jesus freak mother had insisted on, she'd probably have been Miss Strawberry Festival, and gotten the five thousand dollars towards a state college scholarship.
Babs grinned, and jiggled her boobs a bit, and then pulled the material just under her cups a little, so the tits strained a little more. Arlen would like that.
Babs went into the living room, and sat on the couch, gazing at her crossed legs. Her six inch pumps were glorious, they really were. Babs had good legs, but the right heels turned her into a damn Amazon.
Last month, Babs had Arlen do his business in front of the picture window, and boy had that freaked him out.
Arlen was nearly as strait-laced as Babs's mom was, but he'd wanted to have his little experience.
"Jerk off in front of the window, Arlen" Babs , or wait another month, and blushing and cringing, Arlen had rubbed one out, fast.
The humiliation of it all must have aroused as well as horrified him, poor creature.
Babs smiled at the memory. Poor bastard had probably wanted to drag it out a little, but was so afraid one of his neighbors might see him beating his meat, that he jerked off as fast as possible.
Babs felt badly about that later. Poor Arlen had been waiting thirty days for his time out of the belt, and he really could've had a bit better an experience.
Babs drummed her long red nails on her right leg, elegantly crossed over the left, and finally, she whistled. Just as loudly, through two fingers as she had when she'd been captain of the Drill Team and had to bring the girls to practice.
Arlen had been a running back. And a fast one!
Not the year Babs was drill captain, he'd graduated a year before she started up at West Buttermilk High. Even then, he was known as a sure shot for the pros, but he'd blown out his knee.
Arlen came into the living room. Arlen was naked except for the belt. Babs noted with amusement that the pouch covering Arlen's crotch was pulsating a little bit.
"Hey, Babs." Arlen said shyly.
This as if they hadn't been married for twenty-six years. But Arlen was as horny as a college freshman, and it was, of course, because he spent so much time locked in the belt.
Babs smiled at Arlen and rubbed her right nipple between her forefinger and thumb.
Arlen fixated on this, and his eyes widened. When their new relationship had emerged, one of the first things Babs had forbidden Arlen was access to her marvelous breasts.
Arlen worshipped them so much, and she figured this would make them even more enticing.
Arlen hadn't touched Babs's tits, except for Christmas and his birthday for nearly three years.
She kept him staring at them, as she wore tight tees and open peasant blouses. He always looked like he was about to burst into tears.
Once, Babs had walked in on Arlen, just before she'd locked him in the belt.
Arlen had been sniffing Babs's bra and jerking his dick, and Babs had gotten so mad that she'd beaten Arlen's penis into tininess with a steel ruler.
Where was that ruler? Ever since Ethan and Elwood had gone off to college, all the rulers in the house were gone.
Babs still had her trusty leather strap, and a cane or two. It kept Arlen from getting too fresh.
Just last night she'd given him twenty, and then he'd burst into tears and kissed and licked her large, full ass...
He cried so easily these days.
Now he was staring at her large, supple breasts and probably hoping that Babs would remove her body stocking.
"So, are you ready, Arlen? Been waiting all month, huh?"
"Y-yes Babs." Arlen looked as if he'd been sweating.
A couple of days ago, Babs had bound Arlen's hands and lay him over the armoire. She'd removed the belt and rubbed his thick cock with her long fingers, the red nails shining.
She got such a kick out of it when, after pulling on the glans for almost eight minutes, he was about to shoot like a fire hose, and then Babs would choose to get up and go make herself a Margarita.
Coming back, and sipping, she'd seen poor Arlen trying to turn over and rub his dick against the material of the armoire, so desperate was he to have some kind of release.
At the time, Babs had set down her drink, and picked up the wicker carpet sweeper and whacked him as he'd struggled against his bonds, till he'd finally lay still, and then she'd rubbed just a bit more.
Now and then she'd show up at some house that he and his crew were de-molding, or doing other home improvements.
Babs would bring the guys lunch, and then pull Arlen into one of the bathrooms, and unlock him, and have him sit on the toilet...
She'd sit on his lap and toy with his burgeoning cock for forty minutes before re-locking him and sending him back to work, very, very distracted.
What a month it had been!
ARLEN
Arlen stood in front of Babs, trying to maintain his dignity. He'd tried to keep her happy. This was a time to do it.
Anything could add a week or two to his chastity time. Forgotten chores, watching too much television...
Watching sports with his old friends at Chadrick's Brewmeister was out of the question, but he did like watching at home, and Babs had allowed Arlen three hours a week to enjoy one sport, usually on the weekend.
But he had not watched television in two weeks, because he wanted her to know how industrious he was.
"Come a little closer, babe." Babs said now.
God, she looked hot. Just like when he'd first met her, when he was lifeguarding at the Y. And weeks and weeks of denial had made her the object of his fantasies.
How many men actively fantasized about their own wife?
Arlen stepped up to where Babs was sitting on the couch, and she waved the key at him. "Are you ready?"
Arlen nodded, perhaps a little too emphatically.
Babs pouted. "I'd hate to think you are just in this relationship for the orgasms, honey."
Right. Of the twelve orgasms he'd been "entitled" to last year, he'd gotten only nine, because of minor infractions.
