Don’t haf’ta be “that Guy”

Penelope still loved her husband, she told herself, looking at the picture of misery under the shower, he was just a decent man doing a job he hated. Penelope had to admit she didn’t hate the money, the money was good, it certainly came in handy cross subsidizing her herbal remedy business. Sipping out of her bathrobe and gingerly crossing the tiled floor, she reached out a consoling hand.
“There certainly is a lot of knotty tension, I’ve got something that will soften that right up.” she stated, her practiced fingers working his broad shoulders. Soon Trevor was alone in the wet room, he just let the warm water run down his body. He’d never been so busy, Brexit had certainly cause an upswing in the “Downsizing Consultancy” business, but it was just cowards getting him to do their dirty work and no amount of water was gonna wash him clean. He hated being “that Guy”.
Then the scent of exoctic plants assaulted his senses, whirling his mind far from its troubles. The tension melted from his form, barely able to register the words whispered in his ears as he was intoxicated by the tingle of renewed vigour. Bubbles popped and prickled as Penelope worked the lather all over him, reciting words as she went. What would she like this time she pondered.
“Um maybe 19… yeah … young and perky…Blonde? No did that last time…but I’ll still keep her good and subby…a proper little minx…ah yes nice and petite, all the better to Dom ummm.” Penelope was drawn short by a pang of jealousy, Trevor was getting better tits than she had. She was just about to correct this injustice, when she reminded herself, “No I own them, you are just getting a better set for me to play with…fair is fair…after all for the entire weekend you don’t haf’ta be that Guy!”


Leave a Reply