Roberta Does Robert

It had been three years since I'd seen Roberta, we'd lived in the same apartment building and met while doing our laundry. After that first session I made sure I would be doing my clothes every time she did hers. She had beautiful blue eyes, framed with black hair and cut in a page-boy style that made her look like my favorite (and sexiest) singer, Linda Ronstadt. A slender, curvy frame accentuated those perky breasts that never failed to arouse my young libido and send me back to my apartment horny with wild fantasies.

Roberta was a little older than me, but light years more mature. She would tease by saying how she always did her ironing naked, and would fill our conversations with sexual innuendo. I never failed to get so hot that, after my clothes were dried and folded, I would hurry back to my room with a throbbing erection to jack off. Every so often while we talked she would stare down unmercifully at my crotch, then look back up and smile. I would be so embarrassed I wanted to run out of the room.

I had a ritual: laying my warm shorts and socks on the bed then going to stand over the toilet with the seat up, my right hand holding me out from the wall while my left grasped my rock-hard cock. Then, with just a few strokes and my eyes squeezed tight, I would cum -- spurting down on my reflection in the toilet water. My fantasy was always the same: she sat on one of the washing machines while on high spin and, with both hands on the back of my head, pulled my face -- hard -- to her steamy crotch. I never took long.

Eventually I moved out of that apartment to a house by the beach, we lost contact and my fantasies faded along with her memory. Then one Friday night, three years later, a chance encounter at a local beach watering hole brought us together again. Roberta was with two girl friends and I was with two of my buddies; we got together and all sat at the same table. She was as pretty and sexy as before, she had changed her hair, it was now below her shoulder and curled into shiny ringlets. We danced and flirted, had some drinks and laughs, but unfortunately she was now married so I went home with my rekindled hi-spin fantasies.

Two nights later the phone rang: "Hello Roger." It was Roberta. "Well hello again," I said pleasantly surprised; she said she had one of her girlfriends ask one of my friends for my number.

"What are you doing?" There it was -- that sexy voice that zipped an electric shock straight to my gonads. When I went home the other night I found myself standing over the toilet once again; my face between her legs while that old washing machine vibrated. Just like old times -- splash -- splash -- splash.

"Right now? Well, I just got out of the shower." I tried to sound cool but felt my face start to flush.

"Roger -- are you nude?" Oh, shit, blood began flooding to my manhood.

"Well I -- oops -- just dropped my towel -- guess I am now" I joked.

"Well, I wish I was there," she said, lowering her voice just above a whisper.

"Then what?" My voice cracked, my tingle turning to a throb.

"I could watch as you dried yourself," Roberta paused, "I like to watch. I remember seeing you try to hide your erection when we washed our clothes, you were so cute. Do you remember that Roger? What did you do with it when you went back to your apartment -- did you think of me?" My throb started to pound.

"Uh...well." My voice was trying to break into a high-pitch squeak and I was fighting for control.

"Am I making it hard for you now Roger?" She purred teasingly.

"Oh, Yeah" I croaked.

"If I was there with you right now, would you.... stroke it for me? Would you do that for me? Careful Roger, we don't want to have an accident." Her voice smiled at me through the phone.

"Yes, er, no" I breathed. What the hell was going on here, what was she doing?

"Good boy. I'd like to take off my clothes for you so you could watch me too. I want you to watch as I use my fingers and my vibrator. Do you have a vibrator Roger?"

Oh, shit. This was too much; here I was nude, talking phone sex to someone I really didn't know that much -- except that she was sexy as hell and was giving me a hard-on.

"Yes," I confessed.

"Good, so do I but we're going to use yours. I'm going to open my legs and use my fingers to spread my lips and show you my.... what would you like to call my vagina, Roger?" "Cunt"

"Oh, I like that -- cunt. Where do you think my fingers are now Roger?"

"On your cunt?" I was panting while I stroked my hard, aching cock. Her voice was sounding a little different too.

"Yes!" She exhaled a little raggedly. "I'm thinking of your mouth now Roger, can you guess where I want it?"

I inhaled audibly, "I think so."

"Where?" She demanded stearnly.

"Your cunt." I exhaled.

Her voice hardened, "That's right, I want your nasty mouth sucking my clit; I want your filthy tongue in my cunt; I want you down on your knees begging to lick my ass....Roger -- I am going to fuck your face."

"Oh, shit," I moaned, and spewed thick spunk out onto the bar stool, then watched as it dripped down on the floor and slowly cascaded down around my fingers.

Roberta gasped: "I'm cumming, Roger -- I'm cumming too," then mumbled something and was silent for a few beats.

We breathed quietly into our phones for a short time -- but what seemed like eternity.

Roberta spoke first: "Ooh -- that was nasty. I would like to see you Roger, would you like that?" Her voice softened back into that magnificent cock-stiffening voice, although the demanding one wasn't too bad either.

"Yes." I lowered my voice, still trying to keep from squeaking.

"Can I fuck your face Roger?" It was almost a whisper.

"Mm huh," I managed. Jesus, the blood was rushing to my cock again; I wanted to yell: "OH GOD, YES!"

"I thought so," and laughed, "Thursday night then, have your shower and just wear those shorts of yours -- no under wear. I loved the short pants you wore the other night Roger, and please don't masturbate until I see you." Shit, I was already stoking myself.

The next few days were painful; I was in a constant state of arousal and believed I was the luckiest twenty five year old guy in the world. This was a hell of a way to end a dry spell. There truly was a god. In my head, swirling with sexual fantasies, an annoying question kept popping up: she was married, what about her husband? That night at the club she said he didn't mind her going out once in a while, that he was very understanding. I was too caught up in our drinking, dancing, and flirting to ask more about him.

I began my two-day celibacy period and did nothing to relieve myself except try and hide my constant erection from co-workers. I tried as hard as I could to obey her wishes and hoped like hell I would be rewarded.

# # # #

Zero hour.

Nervous with anticipation, I heard a car park in front. I was straining with an overload of testosterone, opening the door before she knocked and catching her closed fist in mid air. Those bright, laughing blue eyes: those red wet lips -- Oh God. Roberta smiled mischievously at me then looked down at my shorts.

"Good boy, just as I remember you." She looked back up into my eyes and I was frozen in place.

Roberta was actually about two inches shorter than I, but since I was in my leather slippers and she was in high heels, she looked down on me as we stood in the doorway. She wore a yellow, loose dress, that came to just below her knees; it was apparent she wasn't wearing a bra and I knew she had no panties on either.

"I've been looking forward to this." She reached for my head, pulling me into her mouth and sucking my tongue. A hand snaked into my pants to clutch my erection, then slid further down to feel and hold my balls. She pulled her head back, releasing my tongue, "Just as I asked, I like that." My eyes wide with surprise, I pulled away, peering over her shoulder and said, "Come inside." "Don't want your neighbors to see?" she teased, then pulled her hand out of my pants and pushed me back into my living room.

"Want something to drink, some wine?" I asked. She had my head spinning and my groin aching.

"No, I want your pants off -- I want to see what I've been thinking of for the last few days." None of the fantasies I had in the past few days prepared me for this. Obeying, I pulled them down and kicked them away from my feet. My hard throbbing tube of flesh sprang out at her and she grasped it softly, running her fingers over its head, then bent down to lick it once with her tongue.

She stood up, "Now I'll show you mine," and pulled her dress over her head. Just as I thought, no panties. Her breasts were firm, nipples hard; her pubic hair trimmed and cropped.

Roberta kneeled down, taking my cock in one hand and balls in the other and sucked me into her mouth. My knees weakened and I thought I would collapse, the last two days and now this was too much and I thought I would cum right then. "I have to fuck you," I groaned. "You will lover, but first I want you to do something for me." She stood up, went to the couch and sat down and spread her legs in invitation. Somewhere I knew a washing machine was starting to spin.

I walked to her, my cock bobbing and swaying--and leaking. "Jack off for me," she said as she took hold of my balls with one hand and pinched her nipple with the other. She demanded: "Cum for me, cum on my tits," and watched closely as my hand slid up and down my shaft. "Do it slow!" I tried, but it was feeling so good, and I was so turned on, that slow didn't work for me.

I stood over those beautiful breasts and jacked my cock. Her eyes were fixed on my prick as I tried to slow my stroking, but almost as soon as I touched myself, my eyes closed involuntarily, I hunched over and my knees bent, then my muscles contracted -- and I exploded. Spurts of cum rained onto her chest and ran down between her cleavage; she let go of her extended nipple and massaged my thick fluid into her skin like a favorite lotion.

"Now me, lover." Roberta reached up pulling me down to my knees. Then with both of her hands she grasped my hair and forcefully pulled me into her crotch. My fantasy was coming true! "I told you I was going to fuck your face," and my mouth was coupled to those pink, wet, folds of flesh we had agreed to call her cunt. She was lubricating so much I believed I could drown; her slit was so open and wet I knew she could force my head up inside her. Roberta was in control and she began to work me: up and down, side to side, in and out, it was a hot, erotic face-fucking. I was being used; I was just a face and a mouth -- her face and mouth. And I loved being used -- I wanted it -- and was soon growing another vein popping erection. "Lick my ass," she demanded. I was there to please. "Fuck it with your tongue." I tried pushing into her sphincter as deep as I could. "Harder!" I would have done anything she asked that night, anything. "Quick, the vibrator," pulling away from me and roughly yanking my face up to hers, licking it, then pushing me aside and taking the wand vibrator laying beside us. I watched her press it against her clit -- then shake, moan, and scream her way into a muscle cramping orgasm.

Unbelievingly, she just waited seconds before turning around to put her ass in the air, ordering me to fuck her. My cock had hardened again and I was able to push it up into her. She reached back to grab my nuts, almost making me loose it, then I fucked her -- and she fucked me -- and I came again.

I pulled out, plopping down on the couch next to her. She reached over with a finger taking the last drop off the head of my cock and said, "Go get a wash cloth to clean us up -- unless of course you want to lick it clean?" I shook my head. She laughed, "No, of course not, but you wouldn't mind me licking you, would you." It wasn't a question so I didn't answer. "I thought so, you men are all the same, but maybe I'll change that." I scurried to get a wash cloth.

I returned to the living room, my shrunken member still dribbling small drops of my pearlescent essence. I gave her a warm, wet wash cloth and sat next to her, leaning back and closing my eyes, when a finger probed my lips. It was slippery and salty and coated, I realized, with my own sperm. Instinctively I pulled my head to the side.

She laughed. "It's only yours, Roger, maybe you'll get used to it if we keep this up. Now, I want you to massage me. Bring the vibrator." I followed her into the bedroom where she crawled onto my bed and lay on her stomach; I plugged it in and started on her shoulders.

"On my ass, Roger," She demanded, "Hurry!" and spread her legs, "Work on my cunt." She pulled her knees up, putting her smooth, tight globes in the air, and I redirected the Wand. Then she wanted my tongue back in her ass as she took the vibrator and used it on herself. With my tongue in her sphincter and the Wand on her clit she came again. My cock was almost hard as she felt it and said, "And you can put that in me anytime, Lover." It was a short massage.

I was able to last longer this time and she soon took over and was fucking me. Her voice turned to moans, groans, and other wild kind of sounds—then suddenly commanded me to lie on my back. She sat on me and grabbed hold of my hair, her hole enveloped my cock and I didn't have to move at all. First I put my hands on her waist, then I put them under my head to lay back and watch as she rocked, rolled and churned.

Roberta never closed her eyes but looked down straight into mine. They were glazed, seeing nothing, her mouth set in a tight line of determination. It was unsettling but erotic. Then her body tensed and she clutched my hair so tight I felt she would pull out two large chunks. She was beginning to scare me and I lost my erection; shit I already had two orgasms and it was way too soon for another.

She came two more times that night and worked my ass off. I tried but couldn't get any more full erections, and certainly had no more orgasms. But between using my Wand; using my fingers; using my tongue; she got all she wanted and left satisfied.

# # #

That night between our sex sessions -- it certainly couldn't be called love-making -- where she would have me bring her to a climax in whatever way she would think up, she told me about her husband, Samuel.

Samuel managed his family's jewelry store that was next to the real estate office Roberta worked in. His father had recently died of a heart attack, his mother had health problems, and he was the only child. Roberta thought Samuel (he liked to be called Samuel) was kind of geeky and would bet he was still a virgin at thirty-five (she would have won that bet). He was infatuated with her, asking her to lunch often, so often in fact that he became a pain in the ass and the butt of jokes in her office.

At the time Roberta was living, and deeply in love with, her boyfriend Colton. She called him her stallion, and believed they were going to be married. She said he was the only man she had found that could completely satisfy her and was devoted to him. This part of her story made me feel a little inadequate.

Still, Roberta loved to tease men, especially the weak ones like Samuel. It was a game with her to see how long it took to have him turning red and get an erection (sound familiar?). He wanted to date her but she told him that she was going to marry her boyfriend. Samuel still kept trying and Roberta continued to torment him.

Then her life made a sharp turn. One Sunday, between appointments showing property, she drove to the house she and Colton rented. There were cars in front, so she had to park half a block away and walk back. She opened the side door to the garage and the outside light shown on two figures. Colton was sitting on the work bench, leaning back with his head against the wall; his eyes were closed and his pants bunched down around his ankles. The married neighbor had her back to Roberta, her head bobbing up and down in her future husband's lap.

"My God," she thought, "she's sucking his cock!" That long, fat, powerful cock that Roberta loved so much. She loved it in her mouth, in her cunt, and, two nights ago, had let him talk her into putting it in her ass. It had hurt, oh shit it had hurt, but she did it for him. She would get used to it he told her; she did it because she loved him -- they were going to be married.

"You mother fucker!" she screamed, backing out of the door and slamming it shut. She ran to her car and didn't go home that night.

Roberta returned to their house two days later, ready for a confrontation, but there was to be none: Colton had packed his things and left with the neighbor, who had also left her husband and two small kids to be with him.

A week later Roberta let Samuel take her to dinner. She was still angry and frustrated and didn't give him much attention but Samuel didn't care, she was with him. He asked her to go to his apartment for a glass of wine and he would give her a massage to help with her stress. Sure, why not?.

Samuel lived in an upscale part of town in a beautiful, rich apartment. "I could get use to this," she thought as they entered the living room. She sat in a large overstuffed chair and he stood before her. "Start with my feet Samuel." He knelt down, taking one foot, and started to work. After about five minutes he switched to the other foot. Back and forth he went, not saying anything, just keeping his eyes on her feet.

Roberta leaned back, eyes closed, enjoying the massage. She lost herself in her thoughts, seeing that slut neighbor's blond head, working up and down on Colton's cock. Were they doing it now, this minute? Was he fucking her in the ass? Damn it had hurt. That son of a bitch! She was still seething when she realized Samuel was still rubbing her feet; he had been at it for almost a half an hour, and had not said a thing.

She watched Samuel as he stared at her feet while working his hands, "Aren't you getting tired?" she asked. He shook his head not looking up. Roberta looked at him kneeling there and her anger about her ex-boyfriend was slowly changing by what was being presented to her.

Roberta, her hand to her chin, watched him in contemplation, "Suck my toes Samuel," she demanded tentatively, almost in a whisper. He slowly lifted her right foot to his mouth, his hands shaking and sucked in her big toe. A feeling of power began to surge through her, "Now, use your tongue," she tested, and he began licking the sole of her foot. "Oh yeah," she said to her self, "Pussy power."

At her direction Samuel continued sucking and licking until she became hotter and hotter -- wetter and wetter. Roberta asked him if he would like to lick her somewhere else and he nodded his head. That night she found there was no place he wouldn't use his tongue; no demand he wouldn't follow. Samuel made it clear that he was there solely for her pleasure.

So began their relationship. He became her pet in waiting. He still asked her to marry him and she finally agreed after realizing what he represented in financial security. He was going to be worth a lot of money. So was she.

Samuel's slavishness brought out a cruelty in Roberta that she knew was really a transference from what her boy-friend had done to her. She thought up and made him do things that even surprised her. Roberta found that he was very oral and she helped him succumb to his fetishes: worshiping her pussy and using his mouth and tongue to lick her where ever she wanted. She even lay on his bed and had him give her a tongue bath over her entire body. She found that he would rather lick than fuck. He soon stopped being Samuel and became Sammy: "Her Sammy."

Her story should have given me another erection that night but I had cum too much already. I stopped having any fear about a husband I thought I was helping to cheat on and began to feel that I was helping him. Especially when Roberta told me how he loved to eat her after coming home from one of her nights out fucking someone.