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06-11-2003, 03:44 PM
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#1 (permalink) |
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Insane
Location: Lake Superior
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Batteries (smut)
It was not unusual that his wife called him at work with a list of things to pick up for the house. She did her work out of a small office in the basement; they only had one car to their household and while the bike she kept in the garage was fine for running errands in the summer, it was a pain in the ass to try and ride a ten-speed over snow banks.
She had called his office around one today. Her voice was worn out, thin with frustration. He’d done the right thing and asked if anything was wrong. She had replied that her editor was being a bastard and the printer was out of ink. Would he mind picking up a new cartridge for it? Oh and a pack of batteries too, if you don’t mind dear… He didn’t mind. There was a store that was on his route home where he could stop. The errands that she gave him were never taxing, really. What were a few extra minutes on the road if he could come home to dinner on the table? He eased the car into the garage, pushing the button to close it as he shifted into park. He jotted over to the door that connected the garage to the kitchen and stepped inside. He took off his winter coat and hung it on the hook by the door. Home. It was a good place to be. The cooking timer that normally sat atop the stove was now perched on the counter next to the sink. He didn’t give it a thought until it dawned on him that the LCD display on the timer was blank. He picked it up and gave it a good shake. That had always been his father’s solution when something wasn’t working, and it was a trait he’d inherited. The screen remained a solid grey though. He turned it over and removed the cover on the back. The batteries were gone. Setting down his briefcase on the counter, he opened it up and removed the bag that contained the printer cartridge and the batteries that his wife had requested. He opened up the eight pack of double-A’s and put one into the cooking timer. The LCD blinked “12:00” instantly. He glanced at his watch and then reprogrammed it to the correct time. “Hon… I’m home. I’ve got your printer cartridge,” he called as he walked from the kitchen, through the dining room and into the living room. No answer was forthcoming. He listened to the stillness of the house and after a moment heard the sound of splashing water from the bathroom above him. He thought briefly about joining his wife upstairs for a little ‘slap and tickle’ but ultimately rejected the idea. She had had a bad day. Let her relax for a while. He collapsed on the couch, picking the remote up from the coffee table. He glanced at his watch again, pushing the sleeve up from his dress shirt to see it properly. Quarter-after six… Not much on but news and the latest in syndication. He pressed the power button anyway. The television though, did not respond. He furrowed his eyebrows and pressed the button harder, thinking that this would work. No lights, no camera, no action. He gave the remote a good solid whack against the couch and tried once more in vain. The TV remained silent and unentertaining. He let out a small, frustrated sigh through his nose and flipped the remote over. No batteries. He brought the remote with him into the kitchen and placed two spanking new batteries into it. He then returned to his spot on the couch, turning the television on with one hand as he loosened his tie with another. He spent the next five minutes flipping through the channels. He rubbed his temples; there was never anything good on no matter how much you paid for cable. His gaze traveled to the large bookcase on the wall opposite from him. It contained all of his wife’s favorite books, his CD collection and their DVD stockpile. He stood up and browsed the movie titles. After a minute or two, he settled on that new comedy with the actor that his wife liked and popped it into the DVD player. Since he was already on the floor, he crawled back to the couch. He stretched out on it this time, as if it were a bed and picked up the DVD remote. He was about to press play when he thought of his wife again. Maybe she would like to watch too when she was done with her bath. He set the remote down and climbed upstairs. He paused outside of the bathroom door. He could hear her singing softly. She must be wearing her portable CD player in the tub again, not a good sign. She only did that when she really wanted to block out the rest of the world. He hovered for a second between going back downstairs and going into his bedroom. The bedroom won out, and he walked quietly over the hardwood floors as not to disturb his wife. He decided that the movie could wait until she was done; he would just turn on some music and catnap on the bed. He removed his work clothes – business casual, thank you very much – and tossed them haphazardly onto the floor. He paused for a second and stared at them. She’s had a bad day, he told himself, does she really need to pick up after you as well? He frowned slightly and bent over to pick up the clothes, tossing them in the hamper as he sat down on the bed. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the remote for the stereo. A little mellow jazz to unwind was called for. He lay back on the bed, covering his face with a pillow and pressed ‘play’. He lay there for a full minute before he realized that the music hadn’t started. Sensing the beginnings of a pattern, he turned the remote over and checked the batteries. Like all the rest, they were gone. He was betting that if he went back downstairs and checked the DVD remote, that it would be missing a few coppertops as well. He stared at the wall that separated the bedroom and the bathroom, trying to figure out what was going on. Had his wife gone temporarily insane and thrown out all of the batteries? Was there some bizarre cosmic happening today that made all the batteries die at the same time? Had they just gotten bored with their mundane life and decided to go on a battery vacation? He stood up, still carrying the stereo remote and went to the bathroom. It was time to find out. He opened the door an inch at a time, not wanting to startle her. He knew that she couldn’t hear him with her headphones on, but he figured that she would see the movement of the door. There was a gush of warm hot air as he stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. His wife lay in the bubble filled tub, blissfully unaware of his presence. She wore not only the headphones, but also a pair of sunglasses; they had a skylight in the bathroom and the light could be overwhelming at times. She continued to hum and sing along to whatever music she was listening to. She had her long brown hair twisted and clipped to the top of her head. Wispy strands had managed to escape as she bobbed her head in time with the music. He was admiring the long line of her neck that curved into her shoulder when her left hand reached out of the water and grasped the tub as if she were in pain. Instead of screaming though, a low moan escaped from her pale pink mouth. Her lips formed a small “O” and her leg lifted slowly out of the water. Her toes curled under themselves, her whole leg tightened and then relaxed. The bathroom was the one room in the house that they hadn’t redecorated yet, and for the first time in the three years that they lived there, he was grateful for it. The bathroom had last been remodeled in the seventies and each of the three walls that surrounded the tub was covered in mirrored tile. It was like having a thousand eyes, and as she lifted her left leg over the edge of the tub and propped her right leg against the opposite wall each eye grew wider with anticipation. She released her grip on the bathtub and her hand slid slowly under the water again. She arched her back and he could almost see her nipples underneath the sheet of bubbles around her breasts. They were still mostly hidden; a small drop of dark pink in a sea of foamy whiteness. The pink disappeared completely as she relaxed back down into the water. He wanted to move towards her, but he couldn’t stop watching. Her right hand came up from the watery depths and she caressed her breasts slowly. Her small hands made quick, nimble circles around her nipple. She began to suck slowly on her top lip and the hand turned rougher – she was pulling at her nipple now, raking her fingernails across her solar plexus. A deep dark groan escaped from her lips, followed by a sharp intake of breath. She brought her right hand up to her neck, grasping it tightly for a moment and then pulling slowly down on her windpipe. Her finely sculpted hand turned into a claw as she reached her chest once more and dragged her nails across it. She hissed, thrusting her pelvis up and out of the water. A long purple shaft was suddenly visible and audible; it was a toy that he had bought her for a Christmas joke a few weeks before. They had had a good laugh over it, but no one was laughing now. He had been sure that once she had put it into the closet, it would never see the light of day again. The whirring noise disappeared under the water again; he could see the muscles in her legs growing taut once more. The clusters of bubbles moved around the tub like clouds on a windy day. They divided into smaller and smaller groups as she splashed and twitched in the tub. He was able to finally see her hands below the surface, spreading herself wide and pressing the vibrator to her most sensitive areas. One hand kept her splayed apart while the other deftly manipulated the toy up and down against her clit. Her back arched up out of the water again; the moans were coming quick now, one after the other. She jerked forward again and the sunglasses flew off her face; her eyes were shut tight though as the moaning turned into mumbling. It grew louder as each second passed and soon his wife was calling out to gods he had never heard the names of. She was sitting up now, almost curling into her own body, trembling. She cried out at the top of her lungs and then as suddenly as the scream had started it stopped. She fell back into the water and cursed under her breath. The purple toy dripped with bubbles as she pulled it out of the water. Her eyes were still closed, the pulse of her heart still visible in her neck as she turned it upside down and emptied the batteries onto the bathroom floor. His eyes followed the movement and he noticed that there was in fact a pile of batteries at the foot of the tub. He looked back at his wife, who wore a secret smile on her face as she met his eyes. “You did pick up more batteries like I asked, didn’t you dear?”
__________________
"You spend twenty years learning the spell that makes nude virgins appear in your bedroom, and then you’re so poisoned by quicksilver fumes and half-blind from reading old grimoires that you can’t remember what happens next." (Terry Pratchett, The Colour Of Magic) |
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06-11-2003, 09:05 PM
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#6 (permalink) |
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Crazy
Location: MN-WI
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THAT is why I love this woman.
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Incompetence When you earnestly believe you can compensate for a lack of skill by doubling your efforts, there's no end to what you can't do. |
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06-13-2003, 06:23 PM
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#13 (permalink) |
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Naughty Just Right
Location: Euphoria
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Well, well, well!
Welcome back Molly! What a great "piece" of smut! I'm going to venture that one speaks with experience!  *Looks down the hall toward the bathroom...*
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 In the depth of winter, I finally learned that there was within me an invincible summer. ~Albert Camus |
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06-16-2003, 10:52 AM
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#16 (permalink) |
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bAck iN aCtiOn!
Location: in my imagination
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HEY that was wonderful! i liked that....it was recommended to me by JS.
 hehe. good job!
__________________
I am known as Valentinez Alkalinella Xifax Sicidabohertz Gombigobilla Blue Stradivari Talentrent Pierre Andri Charton-Haymoss Ivanovici Baldeus George Doitzel Kaiser III. Don't hesitate to call. ~Vash, Trigun >'.'< kitty kitty, meow ^..^~ |
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06-16-2003, 02:16 PM
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#18 (permalink) |
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Thats MR. Muffin Face now
Location: Everywhere work sends me
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Very well written
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"Life is possible only with illusions. And so, the question for the science of mental health must become an absolutely new and revolutionary one, yet one that reflects the essence of the human condition: On what level of illusion does one live?" -- Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death |
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01-24-2010, 06:34 PM
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#22 (permalink) |
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Upright
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Molley,
That was a great story! My wife would not touch one of those things even if she was forced to. I have tried for years to get her to try one but she says it hurts or it's to much vib. So I have given up. Married 40 years in '09 and no sex for 20 yrs. |
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07-29-2010, 08:50 PM
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#24 (permalink) |
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Casual... Real Casual
Location: Orstraylia
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Ha! what a great little read!
Thanks
__________________
"And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking.
Racing around to come up behind you again. The sun is the same in a relative way but your older, shorter of breath, and one day closer to death" ...pink floyd |
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07-30-2010, 03:16 AM
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#25 (permalink) |
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Darth Papa
Location: Yonder
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Two things:
1) I'm curious what keyword combination brought beltoro to this page. He may be the greatest thread necromancer of all time. This thread contains a post I wrote within three or four months of signing up here. 2) Reading the users that have posted on this thread is a who's-who of who's not here anymore. |
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| batteries, smut |
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