Side Bet Bluff

Part 3 – Sunday Morning (Jan 18)

I slowly awakened to a very pleasant sensation on my cock. Jaycee was no longer curled up next to me but had instead scooted down to my lower half.

"Oooh, does Billie's willie want to be sucked?" asked Jaycee quietly. I opened my eyes slightly and gazed down at her. She was on her side looking intently at my dick, which she had pulled through the opening in the front of my silk boxers. "Does B.J. want a B.J.?" she asked again. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she was smiling.

"Huh-hm," I cleared my throat. Jaycee changed her attention up to my face, still smiling.

"Stand up, Jaycee," I ordered. Confused, she slid off the bed and stood beside it. I pulled myself up, swung my legs over the side of the bed, but didn't put myself away.

"Assume the position, Jaycee," I ordered.

Jaycee just looked down at my cock still poking up proudly.

"What was my first rule," I asked. Understanding slowly came to her.

"Sorry, I didn't ...," she started. I held up my hand to stop her.

"Assume the position," I repeated.

Jaycee stepped forward, then leaned over and placed her hips against my legs. Slowly she folded herself over and gripped the blanket tightly. I placed my hand on her butt and squeezed. Jaycee jumped.

"What did you do wrong?" I asked.

"I called you Bill and B.J.," she said.

"And why did you do that?" I asked.

"Because I thought you were still asleep," Jaycee explained.

"Is that a valid excuse?" I demanded.

"Apparently not," she whispered.

"Disrespect behind my back is still disrespect, Jaycee," I said.

"I'm sorry, Will. You're right. I was wrong," Jaycee agreed. Yes! If someone had told me this time yesterday morning that I would soon be in this position with Jaycee I would have had him committed.

I spanked her four times, hard, but not as hard as last night. She started to get up, but I kept her down with my left hand on her back. I slowly stroked her reddening butt with my right hand.

"Jaycee?"

"Yes, sir?"

Sir? I almost burst out with maniacal laughter.

"Spread your legs," I gently ordered.

Jaycee sighed, turned her head to look at me while placing her right cheek down on the mattress. She then spread her legs wide. I continued stroking her behind, but slowly lengthened my strokes to go lower towards the back of her thighs, and then angled towards her pussy. Jaycee would occasionally jump, or maybe spasm would be a better description. But she would quickly bring herself back under control.

"What am I doing now Jaycee?" I prodded.

"Playing with my ass, sir," she softly answered.

"Does it feel good?"

"It still stings a little, from the spanking, but in a good way with your touch. ... and ..."

"And?"

"You're making my pussy twitch."

"Has your pussy ever twitched from someone playing with your ass before?" I asked.

"No. Never. Only you," she responded, with little hitches in her voice. I now placed my palm down on her lower rear and slid my fingers towards her pussy. Jaycee spread her legs slightly wider.

"And why do you think that is? Why are you responding like this to my touch?" I asked.

"I ...," she started. I slid a finger slowly into her nicely wet pussy. "Oh ..., umm ...I ..." she stuttered.

I moved my left hand up to her head and began stroking her hair, while my right hand continued to slowly move in and out of her pussy.

"Sshhh!," I soothed. "It's ok. You don't have to come up with an answer right now. Just enjoy, and remember my second rule."

"Ok," Jaycee said, and just like that she started moving, trying to pick up the rhythm of my stroking. I wasn't trying to get her off fast, but she was throwing herself into it. Within minutes her pussy started twitching and her hips began slightly moving up and down. She was coming. I marveled at the female body and its greatest advantage over us males' make-up. I slowed my right hand as she trailed off, then removed my fingers and went back to slowly stoking her ass. All the while I had continued to run the fingers on my left hand through her hair.

"Will? Would you like me to service you now?" Jaycee asked.

Service? I had really unlocked Jaycee's hidden submissive. I just hoped I hadn't bitten off more than I could chew.

"Yes," I replied. Jaycee smiled and eased herself up. "But in the shower," I continued.

There are few things in my overly expensive apartment that I had learned to appreciate more than my master bath - stone tiling, dual sinks, a deep, garden bathtub underneath a large, glazed window that let in plenty of natural sunlight while still maintaining privacy, and to top it all off, the multi-head, multi-angle shower "system." Jaycee looked around in wonder as I led her in, turned on the shower, and adjusted the temperature.

There was plenty of room inside the shower stall for both of us and we had a great time soaping, shampooing, and rinsing each other off. I stayed hard throughout thanks to Jaycee rubbing herself against me frequently, including plenty of "accidental" gropes. Her laugh was musical and her smile brought happiness to my soul. Yeah, I know. I already sound like a lost cause, but this was a real-life fantasy that had a fixed expiration date. I was going to enjoy every minute so that I could replay the memories for the rest of my life.

When we were squeaky clean, I turned the temperature up slightly, turned Jaycee so that she wasn't directly in the line of one of the sprays, and then pushed down gently on her shoulders. She smiled sweetly at me, then dropped to her knees and proceeded to give me another sexy blow job. Just like last time I played with Jaycee's hair, but with it slicked back and wet I didn't grab it to control her. Instead I added conditioner to her hair so that I could pull my fingers through it. It made the whole experience much more sensual. As I was approaching the end, I bent over, reached down, and grabbed Jaycee's breasts. Jaycee increased her pace and somehow managed to get a little more of me into her mouth (maybe she had a better angle from me leaning down). I pulled and groped her tits, getting more and more forceful. As I did this, Jaycee increased her pace again and started emitting little grunts. Just as I was about to blow, I grabbed Jaycee's distended nipples, squeezed, then pulled.

"Erroomp," came from Jaycee as she gave a giant suck, the vibrations from that sound was the coup de grace and she took all my sperm for herself.

When she was done, Jaycee smiled up at me and said "I like rule number two."

"You came when I came?" I asked wonderingly.

"Yep. First time I've ever come giving a blow job," she admitted. "Though what you did to my tits certainly helped."

We got out, toweled dry, and I then found Jaycee an unused toothbrush. We did the usual morning rituals and then exited the bathroom. I put on my bathrobe, then went into my closet to grab an old one for Jaycee. When I came out I offered it to her, but she shyly shook her head no.

"You want to stay in your birthday suit for me?" Jaycee nodded. "Alright then," and I gave her a small slap on the butt. Her eyes got big around and then she leaned over onto the bed, sticking her ass back out while looking back at me. "What are you doing Jaycee?"

"You gave me something to wear and I refused you. Weren't you showing me that I should be punished?" she asked. Was she now going out of her way to get me to spank her?

"I appreciate the thought, and how you want to be a stickler for obeying me. But I was offering the bathrobe to you, not ordering you to wear it. It was purely optional."

I added, "If I order you to do something I'll try to make it very clear that you cannot refuse. Like last night, I made long-standing orders by saying that they were 'official' orders. And then when I wanted you to do something immediately I tried to use a very stern tone of voice. If there's any confusion I can say something else to make those orders extra clear as well," I offered.

"No, I think I've got the difference. I'll figure it out," she said. She stood up, came to me, and kissed me oh so sweetly.

"Why don't we get some breakfast," I said, taking her by the elbow and turning her towards the bedroom door.

As we walked down the hall towards the living room, Jaycee seemed to return to her normal self. It was as if 'Submissive Jaycee' was restricted to the boudoir. She started looking around with interest. "I haven't been here since that weekend you and Hannah moved in," she reminded me. I suppose it wasn't surprising she brought Hannah up. Hannah was how I knew Jaycee in the first place.

"Yeah, I was originally pretty upset when Hannah insisted I get this place. I really couldn't afford it at the time," I added.

"What are you talking about?" asked Jaycee. "You're swimming in money. Hannah was seriously pissed when you dumped her, and before that she would complain non-stop about how you were so cheap and never spent any of the money you were making." And she looked around the apartment at my nice furnishings to subtly enhance her point.

"Oh, I'm very familiar with her point of view. Looking back, I guess it's kind of ironic. Hannah has a better concept of money than a lot of women I've met since. But still that's not saying much."

Jaycee looked at me questioningly as I went over to the kitchen to see what I had to offer for breakfast. After all, I had to keep our energy levels up if I was to make the most of my time with Jaycee. I pulled milk and eggs out of the refrigerator, and then pulled a box of pancake mix from the cabinet.

"Here, let me do that," said Jaycee. She started looking around, trying to figure out where I kept certain items. I pulled open a drawer and got out a mixing bowl, and pulled a spatula from a container next to the sink and handed it to her. She started putting together a batter while I pulled out both my waffle maker as well as a skillet, to give her some options. I saw that she glanced over to my spice collection.

"Do you have student loans you're still repaying?" I asked Jaycee. She nodded yes. "Does Hannah?"

Jaycee looked at me for a second then shrugged her shoulders. "I don't really know."

"She does not, and no, it isn't because I paid them off for her. Her dad paid her tuition, as well as the rent on the college apartment that she shared with you but never spent any time at." I explained.

"I didn't know that," repeated Jaycee. "Hannah doesn't act like a spoiled Daddy's girl."

"For the most part, she's not. Her dad would give her money for very specific 'big ticket' items, but for everything else she was on her own."

"Now, do I have student loans?" I asked Jaycee. Slow comprehension came across her face. "I didn't go to the local state school like you two did. Though that's really not fair to you since you were paying out-of-state tuition. So you have some idea what kind of debt I incurred from the highly prestigious private school up the road. Plus you went to grad school for two years for your Masters, not four years like I did for my two degrees," I added. "I didn't have rich parents to pay my tuition, or help me out on rent, and because Hannah didn't want to get a job while in school or ask her parents for more money, guess who paid for her living expenses as well?" I asked.

Now Jaycee's eye's got wide in understanding. "How did you afford that?" she asked.

"I took the max amount of federal and private loans possible, every single year, and dedicated every dollar I earned over the summers towards maintaining her lifestyle."

"So sure, I got this nice paying job after school, and a big chunk of my paycheck went straight to pay my outrageously high loan payments. On top of all that, I got talked into moving into this extremely expensive apartment building with the assumption that Hannah would be moving in with me and paying for half to make it affordable. But no, she kept her apartment with you, because her parents wouldn't like the idea that their twenty-four year old daughter was shacked up with a guy that she wasn't married to."

"Didn't you explain that to Hannah?" asked Jaycee.

"I tried to ... repeatedly. Hannah didn't believe me. Or maybe refused to believe me would be a better description. Now I did have some money left over, which I wanted to save for a rainy day, or maybe an engagement ring, or the down payment on a house. But Hannah complained that I wasn't spending any of my high salary on her, and she had waited so long and put in so much time and effort in our relationship waiting for it."

"Maybe that's how you interpreted what she was saying, but I'm sure she meant something else," said a shocked Jaycee.

"Oh, no, that's pretty much a word for word quote," I sighed. "She let me know in no uncertain terms that I was just a meal ticket for her. I suppose I kinda looked at her as an investment as well. I mean, I'm not the kind of guy to run up a lot of debt, I was extremely thrifty in undergrad. But I did when I was dating her in school thinking that I'd get it back once we both had jobs and were married. But as time went on, she got more and more demanding, and we did fewer things that I wanted to do. That was especially hard on me since I had so little free time from working so much. She started dropping hints about not working at all once we got married. Then she made that comment that shocked you so much, which started the fight to end all fights. And I mean that quite literally. It was then that I realized how miserable I'd become with Hannah, and how stupid it was for me to stay with her. That's when I dumped her."

"I'm sorry," said Jaycee. "It's so odd to finally hear your side of the story. Hannah made you out to be selfish and always taking her for granted. Since then Hannah's always talking about how she's making enough money to not need a man, and putting her career above having kids and all that." Jaycee was being really sweet, and the situation was more than a little surreal since we were having this conversation while she was making me breakfast buck naked.

"Well, it turned out for the best," I said. "And I really mean that. I spent two weeks feeling sorry for myself and then completely changed my life. I started working out. I took a roommate for six months, saved every dollar, and refigured some of my finances a bit to actually do some investing. I did the things I wanted to do. And for the most part, I still kept you and some of the others from the old gang as friends. That really surprised me, by the way. I didn't expect you, being Hannah's roommate, to still want to hang out and talk with me."

"I've never understood why people get upset at those types of things," Jaycee responded. "I mean, you were never mean to me, so why was I supposed to now think mean things about you?"

This was definitely very un-chick thinking, in my experience at least.

"I suppose that was my first strike with Hannah," she added. "But she and I were never really that close. Even though we were roommates, we really weren't for the longest time. She was always with you instead. I mean, her bedroom furniture was in our apartment but she never slept there. I was already used to going off and doing things without her. So if the gang I hung out with occasionally included you, I didn't think it affected Hannah in any way. ... Besides, of all my guy friends, I liked hanging out with you the most."

"Oh?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

"Easily," Jaycee affirmed. "You're the smartest, so we always had interesting conversations. And every other guy I spent time with could never leave things at just friendship. They were always trying to get into my pants. You and I had this sexual tension, and you'd tease me which I really liked, but then you never made an overt pass. Being with you was like having a constant, small, sexual buzz going, but one which would end if we ever did anything about it."

"And now here you are my sex slave," I said, making the obvious rejoinder.

"Yep. Funny how that worked out," Jaycee laughed. "Ok, go relax while I finish your breakfast."

I moved back into the living room, turned on the news, and grabbed my phone to check my email.

Sunday mornings were usually pretty slow for web traffic, though I could always count on a few work-related emails no matter what. But this morning, one really stuck out and had me swearing at the idiocies of the manager mentality and their constant need to reinforce the power they had over their underlings.

When Jaycee called me to the dining area for breakfast my mood hadn't improved. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Oh, just a stupid email I got from one of the partners at work, making some ridiculous demands," I replied.

"So? Tell me about it."

"Things have been really slow at the office lately. The financial crisis hit us right where we make our living. A lot of other firms in town have had layoffs and I wouldn't be surprised if we're headed that way, too. But this partner Mike Reynolds, who isn't one of the partners I regularly do work for, sent me an email accusing me of working abnormally slow on the projects I have in order to stretch them out."

"That sounds like something a lot of people would do," Jaycee responded.

"Maybe in most businesses, but not when you bill the clients by the hour," I explained. "Doing that wastes your client's money, and is a fast way to lose a client. It's also fraudulent, and I happen to pride myself on maintaining high ethical standards with my work."

"What pisses me off most is that he didn't ask me for a status update on the projects, he just flat out assumed I was jerking the client around."

"Well, don't let that make you do something you'll regret," Jaycee warned.

"Oh, I already replied to him saying that I could account for every minute of time I worked on these projects."

"Well, that doesn't sound too bad," said Jaycee. "You're standing up for yourself without calling him a jerk."

I thought so too. But it didn't appear to satisfy Mr. Reynolds. By the time breakfast was concluded, I had received another email saying that if I could justify my billing that was all for the good, but he still wanted the projects to be concluded by noon Monday. He was obviously sticking with his original wrong assumption about me. That meant I would have to put in many hours of work today, and I explained as much to Jaycee.

"Good, after last night I could use a few more hours of beauty sleep," she said. And she stretched and yawned - her arms out wide and her chest jutted out.

Oof!

I was so tempted to just grab her and throw her down right there on the carpet.

But duty calls. Besides, vigorous exercise isn't good immediately after a meal. I pulled out my laptop and briefcase with the documentary support I needed. Instead of sitting at the desk in my pseudo-home office-slash-guest-bedroom, I decided I was going to have some enjoyment around and set myself up on the couch in the living room with the football playoff pre-game shows going at low volume.

When Jaycee came out of the kitchen after cleaning the dishes (I never ordered her to do maid service, she just decided that came with the sex slave duties), I was fully engrossed in five hundred page loan contracts and creating checklists for what needed to be done to adjust and alter some of the key terms to minimize potential client liability. Are you still with me, or do you need a nap now too? Jaycee broke my concentration to plant a nice, wet kiss on my lips, then laid down on the couch, raised my arm, and nestled her head on my lap to use me as a pillow.

For the next three and a half hours I worked. Occasionally I would distract myself with some riveting football analysis. And occasionally I'd distract myself with rubbing Jaycee's back or stroking her hair. Jaycee really was dead to the world. She wasn't kidding about her beauty sleep. Jaycee's friends were constantly bewildered at her need for ten hours of sleep a day. She didn't always get it in one stretch, she was a big nap taker, but ten hours was her standard amount. I'd been going on five hours daily since law school and my body had adjusted. Even if I wanted to sleep in these days I couldn't.