Cynthia waited by the window, her gaze never leaving the street. She sat on the couch, as she had for several hours, waiting for the midnight sheen of his car to pull up. She checked the phone he bought for her-still no messages. It was 4:59 Pm. Almost five. He'd be home any moment now, but those seconds stretched into the longest of hours.
Her thoughts wandered, as they often did, to his commitment. To loyalty. Cynthia had certainly been loyal. She'd fallen for Jericho a month after meeting him. He was a warm, happy man that seemed almost like a caricature of what they showed "real men" were on TV. He was a contrast to her in almost every way-Tall, almost so skinny that the autumn winds would blow him away. Cynthia most certainly had hips and a bust, but they felt too close on her small frame.. She had to look up just to speak to him. She felt so lacking compared to Jericho, so unfulfilled.
That's why she had agreed, with a blush in her cheeks, when Jericho told her what he was like behind closed doors.
She checked her phone again. 5 PM. Her heart lept, and she jumped off the couch. She ran to the kitchen, reaching for a black dog collar that lay there. She quickly tore off her top, freeing her G cups as her legs wrestled to get out of her pants. Her panties were an after thought as she ran to the door, snapping the collar around her neck. She sat on her knees again, ignoring their ache as she stood staring at the door handle.
A car door slammed on the other side of the wall, and a tall shadow fell through the living room window. He was home!
The door opened, and Jericho let out a sigh as his stick-like frame filled it. He sat his laptop bag down on the door, and rose, rubbing his eyes. He parted his fingers, green eyes regarding her for a moment before his hands dropped.
"Hey girl. How are you?" he said, his voice dropping on you. He stepped past Cynthia, making his way to the kitchen. She heard the fridge open, and the familiar sound of a beer bottle being cracked open. His shadow trailed across the wall in front of her, disappearing as it rounded the corner. The TV was turned on, and her nagging fears were drowned in the evening news.
Oh god. What happened? What did I do? Did I do something wrong? Oh damn. Ohhhh shit.
Cynthia crawled on all fours into the living room. Jericho had already finished his beer, and held his head in his hands, oblivious to the dancing lights before him. She came close, and sat up, putting her head in his lap. Jericho turned his head slowly, and their eyes met.
He reached his hand out, and Cynthia braced. It might be a slap. He might ball her hair into his fist, unbuckle his belt, and in moments she'd be gagging on his fat cock. She'd joked with him before that all the weight in his body was between his legs-a fact he'd proven almost every day, stretching her out to accommodate his girth.
Jericho ran his fingers through her hair. He leaned forward, and pressed his lips to her forehead. Once, twice, and again. He cradled her head in his arms, stroking her hair all the way down. Her heart swelled, and she nuzzled into his grip.
"I'm sorry, girl. It was a bad day at the office. But I shouldn't take that out on you, should I? Tell you what. How about a treat?"
Cynthia looked up, grinning. She let out a cute "woof!", and Jericho laughed. He stood, and she stared at the bulge in his khakis. His belt buckle popped, and his pants fell away to his ankles. His girth sat fat and heavy across his lap, and he gently caressed it. It twitched, and Cynthia felt her mouth water just looking at it. Jericho smirked, and placed his hand palm up near her mouth.
"Give us a lick, girl."
