Careful Who You Let In

All characters that partake of this story are over 18. This is a work of fiction, but it is a real fantasy. The personalities portrayed here are extremes and not encountered much in reality if at all. If you don't like people being forced to do things, don't read this. Oh, and why are you in this category then? I hope you enjoy the ride. All comments are welcome and I do tend to respond to interesting ones.

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Amanda sat in her kitchen, drinking a glass of wine. She looked nervously at the clock and wondered if she was making the right decision. Her husband of seven years, had a girlfriend on the side for the past year. He was now living with her and was visiting here ever so often. Amanda was devastated and just wanted him back.

She did not know what she had done to drive him away. She was depressed and despondent, and the women she worked with at the medical center kept telling to cut him loose. There was one person however, who actually listened to her, absorbed what she was saying and did not give advice, but asked her how she felt about what she had said.

He had been through two divorces in his life-time and two bad relationships in recent times. She had helped him when he was close to rock bottom and had made some bad decisions that brought him into the Urgent Care and under her care. He said he owed her for giving him hope and he wanted to return the favor.

So, after a few weeks, she invited him over for dinner. She took the children to her mother's, but did not tell her exactly what she had planned. She was still married after all and having a male friend over would send the wrong signals. So, she told her that the girls from work were taking her out and she would get the kids in the morning. Her mother told her to take the weekend to relax and she could pick them up after work on Monday.

So here she sat, waiting on this man, twenty years her senior, to come to her house for dinner. She gulped down the rest of the glass of wine, her second so far and poured herself a third glass. What did she have planned for tonight? What did he? A chill ran down her spine.

What if he thought she wanted to sleep with him? He was nice and all, but he was not handsome. Fifty-four years old, heavy set and not in the greatest health. He was not ugly, but depression made him let himself go. He was intelligent, you could see the wheels turning in his eyes while he considered a problem and found a solution. He did that when they talked, he was slow to answer, making sure he was saying what he wanted to say and not rushing to answer.

She heard a car pull up and then a door slammed. She went to the window, but it was just the neighbor coming home. She looked at the clock and felt foolish, he still had another hour before he was due. She checked on the food and went to the bathroom to check herself in the mirror.

She had her long blonde hair pulled back in a French braid; she wore her make-up lightly so it did not make her look too desperate. Professional is what she told herself. Try to present the same presence as she did at work, though looking at her wardrobe, she did dress somewhat provocatively. Her top was a nice, white cotton blouse and she wore slightly distressed hip-hugger jeans. As she was home and this was to be casual, she just went barefoot.

It was her house after all and she would dress as she pleased. Where did that come from? She wondered. It wasn't like he would criticize her; she knew he had a crush on her. Hell, she could wrap him around her finger if it seemed like he was getting out of line. Finishing the last glass of wine, she went to the living room and put some logs in the fire.

She sat on the couch and picked up her phone. Might as well peruse Facebook for a bit, at least until he got there. She had lost track of time and was startled when she heard the doorbell ring.

Approaching the door, she peered through the peephole and there he was. She opened the door and just stared at him. He was wearing a burgundy silk shirt; the top three buttons were undone and she could see a black undershirt. His pants were black dress jeans with a black leather belt and a shiny gold buckle.

The shoes were casual dress, also black. She noted his beard had been trimmed, the salt and pepper color looking good when neatened. The grey hair was pulled back in a pony-tail and he had a lopsided grin as he watched her look him over. Her eyes were drawn to his. They were a bright blue, though at work, sometimes, they had a slate-grey tinge to them.

"So... do I make the cut?" he said and then chuckled.

Looking embarrassed and blushing darkly she replied "Sorry, I was just... well... you know."

"Yes, yes, I have heard it before." He said as he raised both hands and did air quotes "Dude you clean up nicely. Why don't you do it all the time?" he shook his head. "Too much fucking work to do it every day. So, I only do it for special people."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "Special people huh?"

"Yeah, those I respect."

"Yes, well, come on in." she gestured into the house.

He spoke in a bad vampire accent "Thank you for inviting me in."

It must have been the wine, because she actually giggled at that. She led him to the dining room and told him she would bring dinner in; it was staying warm in the oven.

He nodded and took a seat at the head of the table. She almost said something, her husband sat there. She lowered her head a bit and went into the kitchen. Grabbing plates and utensils she went back into the dining room and set a plate and utensils in front of him. As she started to set herself at the other end of the table, he raised an eyebrow.

She smiled at him and shook her head slightly and finished setting the place. Heading to the kitchen to get their dinner, she never heard his chair slide back. She removed the food from the oven and placed it on the counter, she heard a polite cough behind her, letting her know not to back up.

He stood there with oven mitts he had found and grabbed the roast and carried it into the other room. She brought in the veggies and was startled to see that he had moved her place setting to his left so she sat next to him.

She did not know what to do. She looked at him, and he was staring her in the eyes. She decided to not say anything and continued bringing in food. They sat and ate slowly, drinking their wine and talking about small things, she told him about her mom keeping the kids for the weekend, then they slowly turned to serious topics, THE serious topic.

He was considerate, genuine and caring. She noticed, too late, that he had been touching her arm occasionally as they talked, stroking it lightly and finally ended up holding her hand softly.

She couldn't pull her hand away; she didn't want to be rude as he had been nothing but polite. This was beginning to feel like a bad idea but she could not place a reason for the fear.

She stood up and cleared the table for dessert, he stood and helped clear the table too. She felt discomfort, off balance and it confused her. He was being nice and considerate. For some reason she felt a hint of fear and unease.

"Relax." He said. "Tonight, is about you. Just relax."

She shuddered and nodded. They rinsed the dishes and place them in the dishwasher. Grabbing bowls and ice cream they made dessert and went to the living room. The fire was still going. He placed his bowl down on the end table and put more logs on the fire.

Turning back, he grabbed his bowl and sat on the couch next to her. He leaned partially away from her and his foot seemed to accidentally rest against her leg. She looked down, but did not move away. They chatted for a while, her eyes roaming over him. She never caught him looking anywhere but at her eyes.

She felt like she was in the presence of a predator, but there were no outward signs. He was more confident than when he was at work, but he still exhibited a vulnerability.

The longer they chatted the less it felt awkward. His manner kept being calm and comforting. Soon she was telling him about her marriage and her ex in more detail than she told anyone else. She told him her mother was keeping the kids until Monday afternoon. He seemed to draw the information from her with a style and ease, like he had done this before. He was pleased that he would have the weekend with her.

It was getting late and the wine was definitely affecting her. He said something about her relaxing, she nodded indicating that the stress was making it hard. The next thing she knew, he was behind the couch and his large, strong hands were on her shoulders.

She started at the sudden touch. His fingers pressed into her flesh, digging under and into the muscles, loosening them. He alternated between pressing, rubbing, and digging. Soon she started to relax and then he worked on her neck. His thumbs going from the base of her neck and up to the base of her skull.

She did not notice when she started to moan, but he did. He continued to alternate between her shoulders and her neck. Soon she was swooning and he found it easy to guide her to laying on her stomach on the couch. His hands went from shoulders, to neck and then focused on her back. He noticed that she was not wearing a bra. She really didn't need too, though she was not small, he thought maybe a 36 B or C, not that he really cared. Tits were tits and fun to play with. Her's did not need to be confined by a bra to control them.

When he got to the small of her back, he concentrated there for a few moments until the moans grew louder. He smiled, she was finally relaxing and giving in to the pleasure of the experience. Soon he was moving up her back, this time, under her shirt. His warm hands against her skin.

His fingers pressed against her ribs as his thumbs pressed into her spine, up and down her back, slowly moving up to her neck. She let out one long moan and if she could have seen his eyes, the fear would have been back.

He pushed her shirt up and when it got to her arms, he pushed them above her head and worked the shirt off of her. She was in that drowsy state of alcohol relaxation and massage relaxation, quite the combination.

For the next 30 minutes he continued just massaging her and teasing those erogenous zones that most men don't even care about.

He kissed her shoulders softly, her neck near the ears and then down the base of her neck. She squirmed under his ministrations, he chuckled to himself. His hands caressed the sides of her breasts as he kissed down her spine. Her hips started to move, in a slow, thrusting motion.

Moving lower, his hands started caressing her ass. Massaging it, squeezing it, moving his hands down to her thighs and his thumbs went between her them. She parted them slightly as he continued to play around her thighs and pressing closer to her pussy.

He rolled her over on her back slowly. He did it so easily, so smoothly, one would have thought he had lots of practice at this. Had they asked him that, he would have just smiled and given them a slow nod. Soon he had her on her back and her arms were still over her head.

He sat back and admired her in the fire light, her braid lay under her arm. Her breasts did not lay flat, they looked so beautiful, they would fit in his hands with not too much spilling out. Her nipples were hard and sticking out from her body about three-quarters of an inch. There was a small area of her abdomen was not flat, but not fat.

He put his hands on her stomach and gently massaged her flesh and up under her breasts. He focused on her breasts and gently ran his palms across her breasts and nipples. Another moan escaped her lips but this time she realized what was happening through the fog of the wine.

"No... we shouldn't..." she said as she moved her arms down to protect her breasts.

He smiled at her and gently took her hands in his. Putting her arms together, he wrapped one hand around both of her wrists and pushed them over her head. She looked at him groggily and shook her head to try and clear it.

"Please Andy... no..." her voice a whimper.

"Sshh..." he said, and then bent low, over her breasts. His eyes on hers as he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked gently on it.

She arched her back unwillingly, pressing against the hand holding her in place but with his weight and his strength she could not push free. Adjusting himself on the couch, keeping hold of her hands, he sat across her thighs, his other hand working the snap of her jeans. She wriggled around some more.

"Amanda..." his voice was deep but soft. Still there was a tone to it that seemed to say "Behave". So, she stopped wriggling.

"Very good. I would hate to have to punish you." He let out a throaty chuckle, as if he was just kidding.

"Please. Andy... don't hurt me..." she pleaded.

"Hurt you? Amanda, I would never hurt you... unless you asked me too." He looked down on her, his eyes were narrow slits, she could hear his thoughts... he was going to make her beg to be hurt.

"I would never ask you to." She said, a small quake in her voice.

"See, then there is nothing to worry about." And with that last word, the snap on her jeans popped open and her zipper opened easily.

He smiled as he looked down at her exposed skin. "Amanda... you naughty girl... what is it that they say when the underwear matches?" he paused. "Oh yes, that the woman intends to give it up. Is that true, Amanda? Did you plan on giving up your married, MILF pussy to me tonight?"

"I... uhm... I... I don't know..." tears started to run down her cheeks as she spoke.

"Don't cry. It's okay." His hand moved into her pants. "No bra, no panties, I would definitely call that matching." He moved his hand lower into her pants.

"Okay now, this, what is this my dear? You are shaved smooth!" he started laughing.

She looked ashamed and humiliated. She had shaved her armpits, legs and for some reason her pussy, during her bath. She had not shaved any of that since she found out her husband was seeing another woman and moved in with her.

"Now, I know you were planning on giving up the pussy. It is freshly shaved, not hint of stubble. I bet your legs and pits are freshly shaved too. You knew you were going to let me see you in all your naked glory."

Her face flushed and her flesh turned red all the way down her neck and upper chest. More tears flowed down her cheeks as she looked at him shamefully. Realizing that he was right, that deep down, she was going to give herself to him. This act, to hurt her husband, to make her feel wanted and she knew this was a silly and stupid act.

She was shocked when he got up and let go of her hands. He moved to the recliner across from the couch and stared at her as he sat there. She wondered what was going on. She was in enough of a state of shock that she didn't cover herself. She just stared at him staring at her.

"Stand." He said, suddenly.

This jolted her out of her reverie and she stood, before she even realized she was going to stand.

"Good girl."

She felt a warmth flow through her, she had done something that was appreciated and it made her feel good. Things were happening too fast for her to grasp what was going on.

"Remove the jeans." He stared into her eyes as he said this.

She could not tear her eyes from his, and pushed her jeans down slowly. She felt the cool air on the rest of her body and goosebumps travelled across her skin and her nipples extended.

"Spread your legs and raise your arms." His commands were coming quicker, giving her not time to think, she just did what he said.

She spread her legs and raised her arms above her head. She started to feel her vulnerability, naked before this man. Someone she knew from work, someone who listened to her and let her cry on his shoulder, but someone she really did not know.

"I can see your wetness from here. It glistens in the fire light. Your skin looks so inviting in the flickering of the fire." He rose from the chair and walked to her.

"When was the last time someone did this?" he asked as he ran his fingers gently down from her wrist to her shoulder, across the top of her chest, across her nipple, down her breast and over her stomach. So softly, eliciting more goosebumps. Then over her abdomen and towards her groin, yet he moved past and around her pussy, going instead for her inner thigh.

She inhaled and shivered. "Please..." she begged, but she did not know what she was begging for. For him to stop or for him to continue.

He teased her flesh for minutes that seemed like hours. Though he didn't tell her not to move, she stood still anyway, because he didn't tell her to move either. Her mind was on the physical sensations of the moment and could not form rational thoughts. No one had touched her like this ever.

"Never... please, I can't take this..." she whispered.

"Please what? Stop? Or maybe please, touch you here." As he moved his fingers between her legs and caressed lightly between her protruding lips. His fingertips came away wet and he brought them to her mouth.

"Open." He said.

She looked at him and slowly opened her mouth. She had never done this either. It was so wrong, so demeaning and yet she was going to taste her juices on his fingers. As he put them in her mouth, she found herself suckling at them. She licked them clean, her taste was mildly tangy and someone sweet.

He moved his hand back down between her legs and slowly pushed two fingers into her pussy. She moaned softly but it became louder the deeper her plunged into her. His long thick fingers pressed all the way to her cervix.

She felt them caressing it, pinching it, something she had never felt before. She wondered what else he would introduce her to this night. Because she knew, if he wanted her to, she would beg him for anything. This was electrifying and terrifying. She hoped it was not a mistake, but it was too late now.

He slid his fingers from her body and held her eyes in his as he licked them clean. He smiled at her and stepped back to the recliner.

"You taste delicious."

"Get on the couch." He commanded

She sat down and looked at him. Dreading what might be coming next. Fear shuddered through her body, causing it to shake. Her breasts wobbled back and forth. His smile took on an oily look.

"Spread your legs."

She paused a moment before slowly spreading her legs. She looked as he smiled at her, the eyes going predatory. The fear was becoming more real. For some reason she was getting wet. What was wrong with her, she thought. He seemed to be thinking hard about something, then he said:

"Masturbate." There was a slight chuckle at the end of the word.

She blushed and had to close her eyes, but she started to masturbate. It was humiliating, to play with herself on command, but she did it.

She ran her fingers over her lips, rubbing, pulling, and pinching. She manipulated her lips for long minutes and then she moved to her clit, her breathing was getting deeper and more ragged. She started moaning and after a while she started to speed up.

With her other hand she started to finger herself. One finger slipped into her pussy, her other hand rubbing her clit faster. She panted, her head was thrown back, her mouth wide open and her moans slowly went from low to high smoothly. She was close to a strong orgasm.

"STOP!" he commanded

She whimpered but stopped. She looked at him as she closed her legs and tried to use the friction of her thighs to get herself off. She was startled when he launched himself from the recliner and stood before her. Bending down, he put his hands on her thighs and pushed them apart.

She watched as he knelt before her. His strong hands holding her legs apart, eyes never leaving hers as moved his mouth closer to her sex. She shivered when his tongue darted out and caressed her inner thigh. He licked her thigh and moved slowly towards her pussy. Licking up her abdomen, coming within an inch of her clit and moving to her other thigh.