##Hard Pressed
###MF/Femdom/Tribute
It was a grey, cloudy morning as Cliff and Marcie Iver sat round the kitchen table, not really saying anything much.
Marcie speechlessly sipped her cup of coffee as she got up to put her plate away, and fetch her keys off the hook on the wall. Cliff picked at his eggs as he read the newspaper, the same one that fired him just four months ago. “Fucking Internet taking over everything”, he thought to himself, as he shook it angrily whilst turning a page. Marcie put on her coat and went out the door, not giving a glance to Cliff.
Cliff watched as Marcie left for her shift as a nurse’s aide, the run down sedan cranking up, then the windshield wipers scraping the thin veneer of ice that formed on the windshield.
“Fuck I’m going to do with myself?” thought Cliff as he went to the fridge, contemplating his daily morning habit of drinking a case of beer. He got the pack and made his way to the living room sofa, setting it upon the end table and cracking one open. As usual, he began his ritual of flipping through adverts and morning TV, settling upon repeats of the “Mary Tyler Moore Show”, a show him and Marcie oft watched together.
Hours passed by as Cliff opened his last beer and heard the usual ring on the doorbell. It was Isla,
the maid who had been working for the Iver’s for years, ready to attend to her duties.
Cliff opened the door as usual since losing his job, gave Isla a smile, to which she mildy acknowledged,
and said “Have away, love. Don’t mind this mess”. The Iver’s home had become Isla’s least favourite job, since
Cliff became a part of the picture. His messiness and drunken habits had always made the job thousands of times more difficult, and it was always awkward having a drunk, depressed, jobless man around the house. Isla stayed true to her chores, however, being a long time friend of Marcie’s since Year 13, having never attended college since caring for her ill mum. She had always been a bit envious of her and Cliff’s relationship, being too busy with work and family matters to ever experience her own, besides an occaisonal hookup.
As Cliff laid upon the sofa in one of his intoxicated reveries, Isla finished tidying the kitchen, and went to the hallway to begin ironing Cliff’s old suits. Cliff snored as Isla toiled, she felt bad for the old lug, she thought, seeing how much pride he used to take in his appearence, pressing the wrinkles out of the previous rolled up shirt, as the sun radiated through the corridor, making her amber, half-Indian, half-English skin shimmer and glow in the morning light. Suddenly, Cliff awoke as he dropped his remote and nearly fell off the sofa, and begin making his way to the bathroom. As he left out, he caught a glimpse of Isla, he froze in awe in the state of his intoxication and her radient beauty, he could see the small mandala tattoed upon her shoulder. He managed to mumble out a “Going well, love?”. She turned to look at him, a pitiful sight. “He’s unfit to walk” she thinks, as he slides his hand against the hallway,stumbling by. He gives her bum a slight squeeze as he tries to balance, nearly reaching the doorframe.
Isla’s heart beats a bit faster as she wonders if it was intentional, or merely him finding his way. “You know we’re alone”, he mumbles, as he falters out of the doorway, and falls over. Isla panics, she had never seen him this drunk before, and worries he may fall ill or injure himsef.
She rushes over, finding the strength to drag him to the bedroom, he’ll be safer there afterall, she thinks, partly aroused by their previous encounter, partly angered at his behaviour. She gets the strength to lift him onto the bed,
which was hard, as his once slim figure was now accompanied by a beer belly. His eyes open and he tells Isla he always wished they were together.
“What?!”.. she interjects. “You were always with Marcie in school, and you both went to Uni together she said”
“But I always had my eyes on you, he told her.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asked.
He responded that he knew his family would never approve of the relationship, because of her interracial heritage and poverty.
“What a weak reason!” she says, almost screaming…. “I… I can’t”
He grabs her arm. “Please.. please stay”, he says.
“But, Marcie will find out…” she responds. “I could never harm our friendship and working relationship. It’s unprofessional.” He knocks a vase off of the dresser and pleads. Feeling shocked and surprised by his feelings for him, she agrees to stay in the room. “Just keep this between us”, she says, closing the curtains. Then she goes to close the door and unplug the iron
which she had left on. “This could be fun”, she thinks as she bites her lips, wrapping up the cord and
carrying it with her into the bedroom. She sits it on the nightstand, and gets on her knees against the bed, at Cliff’s feet.
“Having a bad day Cliff?”, she asks, feeling herself getting wet thinking about their encounter, and all the times
she wanted him to herself. She reaches down into her jeans, underneath her panties, beginning to run her fingers along her freshly wet pussy right in front of his eyes. Thinking of a long recurring dream she has had of him, she runs her hand up her waist, along her torso and begins grabbing one of her breasts, squeezing it as her nipples get rock hard underneath her v-top. “Love”, Cliff says..”Show me more…”. She takes her top off, her large breasts drop, nipples showing out of her sheer black and lace bra, she moves to between Cliff’s knees, grinding her jeans against his trousers, still playing with her breasts. She then takes off his t-shirt and trousers, and strips him bare.
She takes a cross from the wall above the headboard , runs it along her torso and down to her waist, just below her navel. “Adultrey is a sin, you know. Are you a sinner Cliff?” she asks him.
“I’m your sinner”, he says, hands running along her bronze, toned thighs.
She says, “Well to go to heaven, you first have to go to hell.”
“Are you willing to go to hell for me Cliff? “, she asks inquisitively
“I would do anything for you”, he says, hand resting on her waist.
“As you wish”, she says, reaching down, pluggin in the iron.
Cliff, sobering up, begins to wonder what is happening, and before he has time to realize, the iron is
pressed to his chest. “Our secret”, she says, as she places it on low, and begins to release some steam on his chest.
Cliff clenches the sheets, his heart pounds. “The fuck is she doing?!”, he thinks…
She lets it blast, gently. He feels a searing sensation for a split second, but finds it arousing.
She runs the warm iron down his body, along his torso and begins to rub it down his waist and along his cock,
the slighty warmed steel excites him, and she takes his cock into her hands and begins to stroke it, making it plump and fully erect as she starts moving his foreskin.
He moans, closing his eyes and letting her take over. She works up a rythmn, moving his foreskin over his head and back, making gentle, gliding motions along his shaft.
She kisses his chest, laying beside him. “You really are an angel, Cliff.” she says as she strips out of the rest of her clothes. “My fallen angel”, she stays still keeping the rythmn, alternating between fast and slow.
He nods in acknoldement, clenching his teeth and biting his lips. She places the now cooled iron against his balls, and he braces in anticipation.
She gives a blast of steam. “Fuckkkkkkk that hurt!”, Cliff thinks, writhing in pain and pleasure.
He thinks to himself, “I knew Isla had a rough mum…but this is psycho. I’ve never known this side of her.”
He feels her hand let go of his cock, and feels her knees on either side of him. She reaches for the picture on the nightstand.
Now upright, she grinds her wet, pouting pussy against his cock and shaft head.
“Do you still love Marcie?” she asks, sliding the photo out of the frame and holding it against her torso.
“She is always in my heart”, he replies. Isla responds, “Show her how much you love her.”, bobbing the tip of his cock in and out of her pussy, teasing it.
He glances up and sees his hard, throbbing cock resting just below the photo. She slides it in just pass her clit and starts jerking him off, somewhat grinding, occasionaliy sliding it out,
wetting the photo with some of his precum. Then she lets it all the way in, grinding him hard, bouncing, her tits shaking up and down before his eyes as he clenches the sheets and tilts his head back, moaning more intensely.
She feels he is getting close to climax, and slides him out, holding him and rubbing his head on her clit. Then she starts jerking him off again, vigoursly. Squeezing firmly just like when he was inside her.
He grabs the bed even harder, finding it impossible to hold in his orgasm. She begins stroking smoothly, cock resting just above her pussy, at the edge of Marcie’s photo.
“Show her..” she says, and he looks back, she is gliding her hands along his shaft firmly, yet gently, as he gasps and
shoots a thick load of cum that directly hits the photo on Marcie’s face and covers Isla’s upper torso and breasts, dripping down.
Cliff writhes and moans in ecstatic pleasure. Him and Marcie hadn’t been intimate in a long time, this is the closest they had been, he thinks to himself, still in
disbelief at all that had happened. Isla takes a towel, and cleans him and herself, and leans in, giving Cliff a passionate kiss.
I have to go before the hour is out, she tells him. Rest up and I’ll be hear to look out for you tomorrow.
She cleans up the ironic mess she made, and scurries off, shutting the bedroom door. Cliff gets up, has himself
a shower, then hides the photo in the rubbish bin. He replaces it with his and Marcie’s wedding photo, hoping that will cheer her up.
He finds himself a pack of smokes, and goes back to the living room, fresh can of beer in hand. He lights it and begins enjoying some evening talk shows,
as Marcie comes in, turning off the TV in disgust, and takes his cigarette and beer away, putting it out in the ashtray.
“Fuck, what a day.” Cliff thinks, leaning back.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5qsu0e/hard_pressed_mffemdomtribute
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