The knocking on the door was loud and insistent. Her head rose up out of the water as she gasped out a breath, coughing.
“Jesus, the fucking door,” she said, struggling to get free of the water. Streams and rivulets ran from soaked tendrils of her hair, dripped freely from swinging full breasts, rushed down long limbs as she slid out of the tub in one last slosh of water. Grabbing her robe from the floor, she splashed and slid her way to the bathroom door, casting one fulminating glare at the messy room. Stepping through into the bedroom, grumbling to herself, she paused in shock to see a man standing there, right there in the bedroom, a thick knot of keys in his hand and a pouch of tools over one shoulder. Frozen, they stared at each other a moment, before she moved. Drawing the bathroom door closed firmly, she held the knob to steady herself.
“What the hell?”
“I’m sorry…ma’am,” the man spoke, flushing a bit. He held up his keys. “Maintenance. I…er.. there’s a complaint from the person downstairs, of water coming through their ceiling. We need to check ah…your bathroom for a leak…or ..” his words dwindled off, but it was obvious from his look at her dripping hair that he was thinking she’d splashed water everywhere.
Which of course she had, but then again… The door behind her was tugged open, slipping from her grasp.
“Oh, er, Mr. James.” The technician would have wrung his hat in his hands, she thought observing the sudden submission. Edwin Leroy James had that effect on people. She scowled. He had that effect on her, really.
“Is there a problem, Anthony?”
“uhm, yes, sir, if you don’t mind sir, the …” he gestured towards the bathroom. “Leak sir. Checking.” The man was flushed and practically incoherent.
Such were the life and times of being Edwin L. James, she knew. He tugged the hem of his sweater, adjusted the sleeves, then gestured the man into the bathroom. She peeked around him. Nary a towel out-of-place, nor a spill of water to indicate the wild things going on in there. Of course.
“You’re despicable, doing that to the poor man,” she whispered, as he came up behind her. One hand tugged lazily at a dripping hank of hair, the other pulled aside the top of her robe and fondled one plump nipple. He rolled it between his fingers. Her head fell back onto his shoulder. Something slid up her thighs, under the hem of the thick robe.
“Stop!” she hissed. “He’ll be out in a minute. He’ll see.”
“I hope you don’t think I’m at all worried about that,” he spoke softly into her ear. The warmth of his breath made shivers run in all the right places, the tone of the words set her hackles to rise.
“You’re really horrible you know.”
“You really don’t mind that, either.”
A hard thrust and he was inside her, the thickness rubbing her pussy lips, teasing her sensitive flesh. Her toes curled into the carpet in response.
“mmmhmmm,” he murmured, “I can see your protests are merely rote, little one. You like being taken, you like the chances of that poor man seeing your tit in my hand, you might even like the thought of him discovering exactly what is buried deep in your pussy…”
There was another push, another grunt from her.
“…and your tight little asshole. Don’t you want him to know that I’m fucking every hole down there, teasing a response from your fat tits, your juicy nipples? That in moments another of my …appendages…will slide up and enter your mouth and silence your cries while I finish what I started during your bath?”
As her mouth was now overflowing with yet another tentacle, she could not respond. Her eyes were wide as he took possession of every bit of her, as he released the glamour and let tendrils loose to ensnare her breasts, to taunt and tease at the buds that drew the most intense reactions from her body. All shades of pink suffused her, and the sharp, hard rise of nipples and clit were quickly seized, tortured, used. Her back bowed, her skin flushed harder as her pussy convulsed around the thickness plunging into her. Her juices mingled with his, and she knew she was done for. The horror, that he could always draw this response from her. The horror, that she had begun to crave it.
She stood, fucked, a statue of a girl, filled to the brim by the beast. His eyes narrowed as jets of his splooge erupted. Forced up against her womb, his juices were pumped hard into her cavities; she felt her belly swell with the rush of him. Her rectum ached with the need to void him, to expel the hard and hot length buried in her gut.
“Cum enema, anyone?” his voice was taunting as he jerked her closer to him, that tentacle pulsing against her stretched anus. She tried to shake her head, to deny that, even as her belly cramped with the amount of fluids he pushed into her. Her head was held fast by the tentacle wrapped around her, holding her mouth open, filling her throat with his junk. She began to struggle in earnest as he cut off her breath. The tentacle around her throat tightened, even as the one buried deep there took up its own expulsion of semen.
“Seems a waste to pump it there, but your uterus seems to be full now..”
She moaned, coughed as he released her. Her own body betrayed her as she came again, her wetness making his passage easier. He slithered inside of her, lubricated by her own nasty responses. Behind them the sound of the toilet being flushed presaged the opening of the door. She fixed the front of her robe, holding it closed tight in one fist.
“NO leaking,” he admonished in a soft whisper.
Her gut throbbed and ached with the need to release, but she kept herself clenched.
“I couldn’t find anything Mr. James, maybe it’s in the ceiling downstairs, some strange pipe connection. Sorry to have bothered you sir. And my wife…she…ah…she enjoys your books, sir.”
He smiled, inclining his head in that way that so annoyed her. He ushered the man from their apartment, before closing and locking the door. He leaned back upon it, staring at her as her legs clamped shut.
“I think you should go …clean up…dirty girl.”
He stalked her back into the bathroom, where she knew it would all begin anew.
She bit her lip to hide her smile.