Ann A Love Story Ch 09

© 2025, All rights reserved -- mimaster

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The drive from my parent's house to work was not what anyone would call a commute. In a town of five thousand, you're never more than five minutes from anywhere. Add the fact that the plant started production at 7:00 in the morning, there weren't exactly traffic jams to deal with.

With Dawn fresh in my mind, and having escaped the house without having to face my mother, Betsy with any serious grilling about what I'd been up to over the weekend, I made my way through the quiet streets of small town America. I was tired and sore, and already I was bored. It was going to be a cruel day.

I was pleased though, at least about getting past the mom hurdle. I needed time to mull over what to say, and how to phrase things when it came to what happened over the weekend. I was never good at lying to her, and she had a sense about those kinds of things that seemed uncanny. But, when I could find a way to shade the truth in a certain light, I was often blessed with good results. It was all in the presentation.

Preparation for any kind of inquisition was the key. There was so much I didn't want to share with her, almost the entire weekend, that getting ready to answer the unknown questions she might have made me feel like I was about to walk into a final exam in college having never studied at all. I needed the time at work to cram for the test.

My father Darren, on the other hand, wouldn't be such an issue. He didn't ask the pointed questions she did, dealing more in generalities than in specifics. For instance, if he wanted to know if you had a good day, a yes or no would satisfy him for an answer. He didn't care about the details of why in either direction. That was good, because I'd be seeing him well before I saw mom again.

After college, I went to work for the company my father worked for. As a VP, he'd worked there most of his adult life to get where he was, busting his ass to work his way up. I'd toiled there seven years, working grunt jobs in the beginning and keeping my nose clean. After three years, I too started climbing that same corporate ladder, to the point where I was running my own department.

But nepotism is an interesting thing. It's a fact that I got my first job because of who I was related to. It wasn't like I went through a vigorous interviewing process. I'd already worked there every summer since we moved to town during my junior year of high school. Upon graduating with a degree in business, I needed a job. They needed someone to work in the shipping department, and who my father was got me the job.

Not exactly the glamour position I was hoping for coming out of school, but it was a job, and a start. It was also a fact that I got every promotion after that initial hire based solely on my own hard work. I knew my father's work ethic, and busted my ass just like he did. I never worried about any review I got from whatever boss I actually reported too. I knew the ultimate evaluation would always be given to me by the old man. If there was one edict I lived by as an employee, it was quite simple. Don't fuck up and embarrass dad.

But for me, the nepotism gate swung the other way. There was always a stigma against me. More than half of the people that worked at the plant viewed my progression in the company strictly as a result of that relation. It hung over my horizon like an ominous storm cloud, ready to rain down on any personal accomplishment I achieved in my job. It was never because I was qualified, or dedicated, or hard working, or had an actual degree. In those tainted, biased eyes of my co-workers, my success was always because I was Darren's boy.

Dad didn't roll into the plant until 8:30 or so, so I would be well into my morning by the time he got there and made his morning stop in my office to say hello. It was a habit of his, started early in my employment there to make sure I hadn't embarrassed him by not showing up. And it continued to the present day, where he'd stop and talk to me as a contemporary in management. He talked to all the department heads on his first pass through the plant.

I was knee deep into the large pile of mundane paperwork on my desk, twice as big as usual because I hadn't been at work on Friday. Dad strolled through door, carrying a bag and two cups of coffee.

"Here you go, sport... heard you got home really late last night."

"Hey Dad. Yeah, I got a late start back. We had to celebrate winning the tournament. What's in the bag?"

"A bagel and a danish. I didn't know which you'd want. So you won the tourney, did you? Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. Nice bunch of people. Met a lot of folks at their plant on Friday, and I've got some great ideas on how to improve the relationship to help them better. I'll take the bagel, if you don't mind."

My dad dug through the bag and pulled out the bagel and a little packet of crème cheese to spread over it, handing it to me. I knew him. He had a big sweet tooth, and I would have ruined his morning if I'd chosen the danish.

"Sounds like you had

a couple

of big wins then. Good job. Here's a coffee to get you through the morning until you wake up. What are you doing this afternoon?"

"As it stands right now, I think it will be a nap after work, why?"

"No reason, really. But I am a big fan of the nap after work. Just get through the day Neil. I'll run some interference for you about the trip. They wanted to have a meeting today about how things went, but I'll get it moved to tomorrow."

"Thanks," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. It gave me a jolt. It was really strong. I guess he knew exactly what I needed to jump start me.

As he said, dad was a proponent of the after work nap. I'd often find him on the couch for twenty minutes to a half hour after he got home from work. He called them power naps, and he always woke up bounding with more energy. Of course, his nap came later in the day. The production floor, including my department, worked from seven to three-thirty, but he worked a traditional eight to five. But at that point of his career, his eight was always eight-thirty, and his five was four-thirty most of the time.

I made it through the first couple of hours relatively unscathed, until the morning break. My assistant, Howard, came into the office at that point to ask about the weekend. I gave him a series of non answer answers, and suffered through a ten minute conversation that seemed more like twenty. He was being pesky, and I think he got a little frustrated that I didn't provide any personal details. I only talked about the business side. But as he walked out, all I could think about was Dawn.

I wondered how she did through the night, tied to her bed. I wondered who found her, Mark or Jill. I wondered what she might have told them, or if she'd found a way to get loose from her bonds. I wondered if Mark and Jill had come home and all, and what Dawn might be doing if no one came home. I wondered if she missed me as much as I missed her at that moment.

I knew I would have to endure a moment or two like that. I prayed there wouldn't be thousands. I was bound to have second thoughts about whether Dawn and I could have made it work. Thoughts like we really never gave it a chance; or, we had more in common than we thought. But those were vain attempts by the sexual side of my brain to find that high I'd ridden. For every reason I could think of to try and pursue a relationship with Dawn, I had what seemed like dozens bouncing around in my head that told me not to. The biggest of all was that Dawn herself saw us for what we were, and had agreed. In fact, she initiated it.

That didn't mean the sexual portion of my mind wasn't working overdrive at the moment to convince the rest of my brain otherwise. And that part of my brain won out more often than I cared to let on. But this time was different. It was ironic that it was Dawn who healed me, making me think straight; because the rational side of my brain was telling me... no, warning me, not to make the same mistake twice. I had married because of great sex the first time, knowing all too well my ex and I had a relationship based on little else. The marriage was built on sand. When even the slightest winds of hardship or distress blew across our landscape, the sands were swept away, and the foundation crumbled.

Yet I ached for Dawn at that very moment. Not so much my heart, but certainly, my cock. Sex was on my mind most of the day. How could it not be? I'd been reawakened from the coma my love life had been in for what seemed like forever, and now that I was revived I wanted to make up for lost time. Yet in a town as small as mine, the realistic options of a sexual encounter like the one I'd had with Dawn over the weekend were non-existent. The best I could hope for was using my regained confidence to my advantage, and become more successful in the dating scene. My problem merely shifted, from a staggering lack of confidence, to the lack of being able to find available women I found attractive where I lived.

Short term, there was always Tina, my cute little blonde hairdresser. And she was little. I'd always thought of her as a pixie, because she was gorgeous, but tiny at 5'2", yet she had huge tits and had an ass that didn't quit.

I found myself picking up the phone several times during the day to dial her at the hair salon she owned. I didn't need a haircut, but I seldom called her for one of those. Of late, they were calls for us to hook up. Just as often, she'd call me. Using each other as frequent fuck buddies had become commonplace. I have to admit, I got a certain thrill the first time she called me, asking me to come over just to fuck her. I never thought that would be a call any woman would make to me.

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That first time with Tina, I went to get a haircut in loose gym shorts, going commando. I had listened to my friend Matt, and was trying to find a way to stimulate my sex life. He suggested going around with no underwear to feel sexier, something he said he heard about in college. However, I made the mistake of combining that with the grey drawstring shorts.

The way she breathed on my neck as she worked on my locks got me aroused. When she ran her fingers through my hair at the end to put in some kind of mousse, I was hard. That was made evident to her by the tent pole that was lifting up the smock I had on. Because the shorts were so loose, and had worked their way up my legs, my cock was out past the leg of the shorts before I could do anything. There wasn't enough material to hold my prick down, so it sprang to life.

She saw my predicament, and she became giddy. She knew what I'd been through, knowing all too well about the divorce. Most of the town knew; it was the curse of living in a place with a small population. She asked me what was going on, and I was forced to tell her why I'd dressed as I had.

Having to confess that I dressed without underwear in order to get out of my funk and feel sexy by thinking sexy was embarrassing. But Tina seemed more flattered than anything else, and asked why I had decided to start with her. I couldn't say it was just because it was my first time out in public after Matt told me to do it. And I wasn't sure that was accurate anyway. I had a reason in my dirty little mind; I did choose to wear gym shorts instead of jeans. It wasn't a conscious thought when I left my underwear in the drawer, but she being a sexy little minx had to be in my head somewhere... both of them.

So, I told her about how it kind of turned me on when she cut my hair the way she did, breathing her hot breath on my neck, and running her fingers seductively through my hair. And I might have mentioned how her being short brought her big chest into my line of vision every time she turned me in the chair.

With it being late and it being just the two of us in her shop, she walked to the front door and locked it, and turned off the open sign. Since I was her last appointment, that wouldn't have seemed that unusual to anyone walking by on the street. But it did to me. Even more so when she turned off the lights, darkening the shop. She didn't say anything. She just spun my chair to make me face her.

She fondled her tits through her tight t-shirt, before lifting it over them, making sure I got an eyeful. They were as spectacular as I'd always imagined them to be... and reinforcing my point of how they were directly eye level for me. Lifting the smock to peer underneath, she acted like she was a gear head, and she was looking at my engine. She cooed a little bit, and then she drove her head under the soft fabric, letting it fall on top to cover her.

She gave me an incredible blowjob, getting me off in ten minutes as she swallowed my huge load. Popping back up, she smacked her lips, pulled her shirt back down, and thanked me for the tip. As I paid her, still stunned from what had just happened, she said she was sorry that she didn't have time to do more. I told her she didn't have to, but the way she was grinning let me know she wanted to.

I'll never forget her saying, "Would it be alright if I called you sometime to eat me. I've kind of been in a dry spell myself, and I'd really love it if you'd help me out too."

That started the casual sexual relationship that had been going on for almost six months. We'd meet at her shop after hours, and do whatever our desires drove us to do. It was strictly a physical thing. We had never even kissed, being content to give each other a thank you hug after we'd dressed.

After that first time, we hooked up every couple weeks, either one or the other of us calling to say we needed help. We tried not to abuse it, not wanting to ruin what we were doing by getting together too often. There was one week early on where we got together four times, and we both knew that was too much. I found our sex together to be much better when one or the other of us was in that frantic

'I've got to get laid or I'll die'

frame of mind, and I think she did too.

And as much as I got into that desperate mindset, she seemed to get there a lot more often. She placed more than twice the phone calls that I did. In fact, after she had sucked me off that first time, she called me the next day and asked me to return that favor.

I stopped by after she had closed her shop, and she took me into the back room. She had a black leather couch back there for her staff to relax on during breaks. She took off her snug shorts, showing me she hadn't worn underwear either. I didn't know if she just did that for me, or if it was something she always did. It didn't matter because I was too busy giving her one of my patented oral sessions.

I didn't even cum that time. I went in thinking about repaying the favor, and after a little over an hour of munching on her sweet pussy, she'd cum so many times she passed out. I left her as she lay slumbering, her crotch and her couch both very wet with her juices. I put a blanket over her and let myself out.

Tina called the next day again, and thanked me. We left it at that, until she called a couple of days later to say she wanted to talk to me. I was a little concerned. I loved what I'd done for her and her for me. But we were a mismatch, and we both knew it. Still, I agreed to meet her at a bar near her shop after she got off work. I figured I'd buy her a drink and let her down easy.

When she proposed the arrangement over a couple of wine coolers, I was shocked. First of all, by the fact that I actually liked the drink

she bought me

. And also because of her wanting us to use each other for sex. I know I wasn't drunk, but it hit me like I was. As hard as I tried at the time, I couldn't think of a good enough reason not to. So I said yes, and sort of expected her to whisk me off then and there.

She saw me waiting for the invite, and she said, "I didn't mean tonight, Neil. God, after what you did to me yesterday, I might be good for a month! So, unless you need me, I'm good right now."

Her 'month' was actually only a couple of days. She called me at noon, and by seven o'clock I was balls deep into one of the tightest pussies I'd ever fucked. There has to be something about being that petite that made her that snug. She suffocated my prick, and it felt incredible. I ended up leaving her salon that night at ten, totally satiated.

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I stared at my phone, receiver in my hand as I waited to dial. I even entered the first few digits several times, before pressing the disconnect button as I wavered on what to do. Finally hanging up, I realized I wasn't ready for Tina. I didn't need her yet. After my weekend with Dawn, I might not need her for a while. I didn't need sex. I needed sleep. I wasn't in mental shape to make any decisions. I was too drained.

I went through the rest of my workday avoiding any major issues, or conversations concerning my weekend. That included the need for any phone calls to or from Mark at S-T Incorporated. While I was curious about Dawn and about Mark and Jill's night with Denise, I was better off not having to deal with that my first day back. I needed my space, at least for a day. I'd be able to handle those things much better once I'd actually gotten a real nights' sleep.

Getting off work at three-thirty, I was home in less than ten minutes. I had the house to myself, since both of the folks wouldn't be off work for a while. I went straight to my room, stripped and got into bed. I was naked, since I always slept that way. I'd gotten used to locking the door so I wouldn't get an unexpected intrusion; not that either one of my parents ever thought about barging in without knocking. It was more of a precaution on my part.

I tried to go to sleep, but couldn't. I was keyed up. All the thoughts of Dawn I'd tried to hold back during the day came crashing to the front of my brain, wrecking any chance I had for that quick slip into slumber I'd hoped for. I knew what I needed to do, and it didn't take long to find a focal point.

I masturbated, using Dawn as my motivation; my inspiration. I could have used any of the numerous sexual escapades we'd been involved in, but I was drawn to the vision of how I left her. She wanted me to remember her like that, tied up and naked, her pussy dripping from me making her cum. I don't think I've ever beaten myself so hard or so fast. My fist was flying over my cock, and in just a couple of minutes I was spewing spunk all over my chest and stomach.

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I woke up to what I thought was my alarm. I swatted at it, trying to hit the snooze, but it didn't go off. Instead, it was the phone in my room. I tried to focus on the clock, but my eyes were too blurry to tell what time it was. It finally stopped ringing, only to have a knock at my door a moment later.

"Neil?"

"Yeah, Mom," I said groggily.

"Matt's on the phone. Do you want to talk to him, or do you want to go back to sleep?"

"No... I'll talk to him. Thanks."

I sat up and looked at the clock. It was a quarter to seven. I had slept for about three hours. I reached up to grab the phone on the bookcase type headboard of my bed. As soon as I grabbed it, I knew I made a mistake. My right hand was covered with semi-dried, but still gooey, cum.

I looked down and saw that I had fallen asleep without bothering to clean up the mess I had made jacking off. I was lucky. I usually sleep on my side. But I was so tired I had never moved once I crashed. I could feel the glacier of sperm drifting down my chest and stomach, slowly inching its way toward my cock.

I lay back down and switched the phone to my other hand. I didn't have time to clean up because Matt was waiting for me. I made the best of it and got on the line.

"Hey Neil, are you sick?" Matt asked.