A Bad Mood

When I woke up the sun was just coming up. It was going to be another fine day. I could hear a bird singing its heart out just outside my window. Probably what woke me up - an early bird after the worm. I hoped the worm was big enough to wrap itself around the freaking bird's throat and strangle it, the noisy little bugger. I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to doze off again.

It was no use. Now that I was awake I was really awake. Grumbling to myself I dragged myself out of bed and headed towards the kitchen and coffee, giving Mike a kick as I got out of bed. If I wasn't sleeping in then neither was he. Anyway, he had to go to work.

I was, for the interim, out of a job. The firm I'd been with had folded, unable to compete with the big boys selling things over the internet. I was looking, but work was scarce.

Then I remembered that today was the day I had to go and clean George's house. George is a neighbour. A single man in his thirties who hates housework. Since I was currently unemployed I'd offered to do his housework once a week. Just the general stuff, mopping, vacuuming, sweeping, dusting, the things that a man has no clue on. For this arduous work he granted me a pittance, but it was better than having no money at all.

Still, remembering that I had to get out there and work did not improve my mood. Neither did running out of milk and having to drink black coffee. Mike didn't help at all when he complained about his breakfast and complained about us having no milk. It wasn't me who forgot to buy it on his way home last night.

What with one thing and another, the bad mood I'd been in when that damned bird began its morning serenade had morphed into a mood that would send rabid dogs fleeing from me. That was the mood I was in when I headed over to George's place to do the housework.

Of course, my mood was improved no end to find that today George was working from home. Why today? I did not need some man looking over my shoulder while I worked. OK, I knew that he would be on the computer the entire time I was there but it would feel like he was watching me and criticising. Oh, yes, having George there to supervise did wonders for my mood.

I crashed around the house doing the cleaning. The only time I slowed down was when I dusted off various ornaments. I could just see them getting knocked over. The way things were today I'd probably be able to lay one gently on a pillow and have it break, so I was cautious. Floors, on the other hand, are renowned for not breaking, no matter how rough you treat them. That was fortunate for George's floors.

I will concede that I may have been a bit curt when I asked George to move away from his computer so I could dust and vacuum around it, but I'm sure I wasn't actually rude. Fairly sure, anyway.

With that out of the way I was back to doing the rest of the house. George promptly irritated me by deciding to go into my nice clean kitchen and make himself some coffee.

"That floor is wet, you know," I pointed out. I was going to have to mop his footprints off again, wasn't I?

"Bit snarky this morning, aren't you?" he asked.

"No, I'm not," I snapped.

"Could have fooled me," he said. "I'd say it was that time of the month but you had that last week."

How dared he.

"Fuck you," I said, giving him a baleful look.

"Hum. Is this your way to working up to tell me that you're quitting and won't be doing my housework anymore?"

"What? No. However, if you're unhappy with my work. . ." I left it at that, furious with myself. It wasn't that I really needed the job but the extra money did come in handy. Mike was a bit tight at times.

"No. Your work's fine. Your attitude right now could be a tad better. Perhaps your husband should apply a small beating or some vigorous loving to help get you into the right frame of mind."

My baleful look returned. He was laughing at me. How dare he?

"Mike wouldn't dare," I said through gritted teeth.

"Perhaps he should learn to," the uncouth brute suggested. "For two cents I'd put you across my knee and spank you myself."

Oh, wow, the masterful man, beating his chest and demonstrating his manliness. I didn't take my eyes off him as I reached for my purse. It just so happened I had two cents in my purse. I took it out and slapped it on the counter in front of him.

George looked at the two cents and started laughing. To my surprise he picked it up and stuck it in his pocket. I thought what the hell and then found out exactly what the hell.

He swung a chair out from the kitchen table and sat on it and at the same time he took hold of my arm and pulled. He was a rather large man and I was rather petite, so when he pulled I moved. Maybe not willingly, but I moved, finishing up lying across his lap.

He wouldn't dare, I thought, and he promptly proved me wrong. He flicked my dress up and my panties down and my bare bottom was now right there in front of him. I didn't even get a chance to ask him what he thought he was playing at when his hand came down firmly upon my poor bottom.

I shrieked and started struggling and a lot of use that was. Neither the shrieking nor the struggling made any difference, except, perhaps, to make him laugh harder. He just bounced his hand off my bottom and his hand was hard while my bottom was soft and you can guess which one came out the winner.

I yelled at him and it was quite possible I used a few unladylike words to describe him and his character, going back five generations. His reaction?

"Language, please," he said, bouncing an extra hard spank off my bottom.

The whole thing was dreadful. I'd never been spanked like that in my life. You can guess how relieved I was when he swung me back on my feet.

"That's all you get for two cents," he said cheerfully. "If you want more you'll need to make another payment."

I just stood there, hands clutching my poor bottom, finding it hard to believe he'd just done that.

"You. . . You. . ." I stuttered and he just smiled and said, "Yeees?"

"How dare you do that," I managed to say, pleased to find I wasn't just shrieking incoherently. "And to pull down my panties? How dare you?"

"What's the problem?" he asked, looking surprised. "That is what you paid me for, isn't it? And what sort of spanking would it be if it wasn't on a naked tush. A very pretty little tush, I might add."

All I could do was stand there, nursing my battered bottom and glaring at him. Then he shocked me all over again.

"Apart from the spanking," he said, "it seems there's something else your husband doesn't do and you need me to attend to."

With that he reached over and took hold of me again and drew me closer. Why would this shock me? Let me draw you a picture. I was standing there, hands clutching my bottom. This meant that my dress was pulled up quite high at the back. As the front of my dress is attached to the back then the front of my dress was also pulled up, even if not quite as high. It was still high enough to show that he'd pulled my panties down and that I hadn't thought to pull them back up. Actually, with all that struggling and kicking I'd been doing they seemed to be tangled in a knot around one ankle. I was going to have to take them right off and untangle them before I pulled them back up.

What did all that mean? It meant that I'd been standing there flashing my naked pussy at him. It meant that when he took hold of me he did it by sliding his hand between my legs and cupping my pussy. It meant that he drew me closer by pulling on my pussy, for god's sake. Are you surprised that I was slightly shocked.

I was even more shocked when he stood up, dropped his trousers, and sat down again. I thought he was about to rape me for sure, but he just sat there. Or stood there, if you looked at his erection. It was rearing up out of its furry nest, waiting.

He didn't do anything apart from moving his hands to my bottom, which they proceeded to gently stroke, easing the stinging.

"What are you doing?" I asked, confused. Just what the hell was he playing at?

"Waiting," he said. "That's it. One word. Waiting.

"Waiting for what?" I asked in exasperation.

"For you to calm down and sit down."

The calm down I could understand. I was still sizzling. The sit down?

"Do you seriously expect me to sit down on your lap?" I asked, not believing it. Sit down with that thing pressing against me? Not likely.

"Not on my lap, no," he said, just as calm as you please.

Came the dawn with a blinding flash of light. He expected me to settle down onto his erection! He seriously thought I'd do that? I mean, look at it. I know I was. It looked huge. And he expected me to sit on that?

"You can't be serious," I said. My voice sounded weak and uncertain, even to me.

He didn't answer. At least, not verbally. He just winked at me and his erection twitched. He did that deliberately, I just knew it.

I wouldn't do it. I didn't have to and he couldn't make me. Well, possibly he could, but I didn't think he would. His hands were still sliding gently over my bottom, providing a slight distraction, taking my thoughts away from that erection waiting there.

"Take your hands off my bottom," I muttered.

Wrong move on my part. I should have told him to take his hands off me. One hand slid down and started gently touching my mound while the other one moved around to the front and started rubbing my mons. I could feel the sensation from that deep inside me. I gasped and hastily correct my command and his hands dropped away. Unfortunately his erection didn't drop away. It was still there, standing tall and proud and waiting for me.

I don't know how it happened. It just happened. One moment I was swearing to myself that I wouldn't do it and the next I found that I was. I started settling down onto his cock. I could feel it pressing up into me. I even took hold of it and adjusted its position slightly so it was in the right place. Not him. Me. I adjusted it. I think my brain went and hid at that stage, not wanting anything to do with what was happening.

I pressed down harder, no longer thinking but feeling, and it felt marvellous. I was in control. Me. I decided how fast and how hard. I wasn't subject to his whims; he had to do what I wanted. He was filling me up fast. Too fast in my opinion. I heard him give a slightly irritated hiss as I slowed down, letting him move into me even more slowly. He wanted to thrust madly upwards, nailing me with his cock, and I had to respect the self-control he showed in not doing it.

I was finally straddling his lap, his cock hard and hot and heavy inside me, filling my passage like never before. I was breathing hard, feeling strange, but liking the way I felt. I stayed like that, relishing the feel of him inside me, enjoying the control I had over him.

Nice as it was I had no desire to just leave it at that. I started flexing my legs, sending myself sliding back up his pole. Relaxing and I slipped back down it. Wow. Just that simple movement sent shivers of delight deep into me. I naturally enough repeated that little exercise.

Very slowly I managed to set up a nice rhythm, sliding up and down his erection, enjoying the feel of it going deep into me. It wasn't all me, of course. I could feel George pushing up against me as I slid down, pressing himself into me as far as he could. I didn't mind that. I was still the one in command.

I found it wonderful to be able to just keep going, taking my time. The feelings that George's cock raised in me were marvellous and they kept on getting better.

It seemed that I had a mean streak that I'd never suspected before. What I was doing was all well and good but it was rapidly reaching the point where I wanted something more. I was just about to start moving things faster wanting to bring myself to a climax, when I sensed George wanted to do the same thing. He didn't actually say so but I could feel an added vigour to his movements as he pushed up against me. So I slowed down a little, really dragging things out.

It was sweet torture for me and I was almost biting my tongue in my effort to seem cool and calm. George was looking rather frustrated and I wondered how long I could keep this up before he lost all patience. Not long, I suspected, which meant I had to be careful. No way did I want him to take control with a show of masculine superiority.

I think I might have been about a split second from being pushed to the floor and soundly ravished when I finally started bouncing in earnest. It didn't take much to set me off. A few hard bounces and I was climaxing. George? Like all men he was on a soft trigger. That first hard fast bounce was all he needed to get him going, erupting like a volcano deep inside me. Possibly that helped set me off, because it was about then that I screamed and climaxed.

I just rested on him for a few moments, feeling incredibly smug. Then I hopped off him, bending to scoop up my panties.

"Right," I said. "I was just about to go and do the bathroom. I'll get on with that."

With that I shot through to the bathroom. The first thing I'd clean would be the shower, with it on and me standing under it.

After finishing the bathroom I was all through for the day. I collected my pay quite cheerfully. It just goes to show that a bit of hard work can buck you up when you're feeling down.

I ignored George's parting comment. Really, that was just his machismo speaking. He wouldn't really grab me the next time he saw me, bend me forward over the nearest convenient object, whip down my panties, and fuck me so hard that my eyes would pop. At least, I didn't think he would.