Chrissie Chapter 4 - Sex Stories

Chrissie Chapter 4

... excess water. When I was no longer dripping, I used my hand to slick back my hair and ventured into the living room, where Rebecca and Karl were relaxed on their couch, smoking a joint and watching television.

“I feel like celebrating.” Rebecca smiled up at me. “Make me a nice, strong screwdriver, Chrissie.”

Karl scratched his balls. “Beer and a shot of Jack for me, sissy.”

“Coming right up.”

With as much enthusiasm as I could muster, I scooted into the kitchen to fix my masters’ drinks, feeling like I was an important part of this little family we seemed to be developing, even if I was the perpetual flunky.

I served Rebecca’s drink first before moving to Karl’s side of the couch and setting his beer and shot glass on the table in front of him. He picked up the shot, clinked it against Rebecca’s glass, and the two of them formally celebrated their new vehicles. I was surprised that my angel downed her whole drink in one gulp.

Karl handed me his empty shot glass. “It’s raining too hard for you to keep going on that damned lot, so you’ll just have to come back here tomorrow and get it done while we’re at the fish fry, I guess.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Shit, we should just get you your own key.” Karl shrugged. “It ain’t like you’re gonna steal anything.”

“Oh, never, sir.”

He leered. “And you’re not gonna rummage through the dirty clothes, sniffing my wife’s underwear?”

“Why would he need to do that? He’s got a pair of his own.” Rebecca’s eyes danced. ...

... “Do you sniff the panties I gave you, Chrissie?”

I forced out the words: “Y-yes, Mrs. Martin.”

Karl smirked. “Hey, sissy, you want to listen to me and Becca again tonight? Because I definitely plan on tearing that little pussy up.”

Rebecca slapped his arm. “Have some damn class. You’re such a pig.”

He chuckled. “Chrissie don’t think so — do you, Chrissie?”

“Oh, no, sir. Um, thank you very much, sir.”

My master shrugged. “Hey, like I said, you do good, you get rewards. You been a real good slave for Rebecca and me. That truck’s sweeter than a motherfucker. Good job, Chrissie.”

“Um, uh, thank you so much, sir.” Here I was thanking him for the privilege of buying him a $85,000 F350, knowing that his little “good job, Chrissie,” was as close to a thank-you as I was ever going to get.

After serving refills, I returned to cleaning the house while the lovebirds chilled on the couch, sipping alcohol and smoking herb. By the time I had the kitchen spotless and was working on the bathroom, they were feeling no pain.

I was scrubbing the toilet when Karl came running into the room, unzipping his pants. “Move, Chrissie, I gotta go.” I backed away from the commode just in time for Karl to brush past me and release a firehose stream. I knelt there with my head bowed, listening to the tinkling.

When he finished, Karl zipped back up and chuckled. “You’re gonna want to get that, Chrissie,” he said, jerking his thumb at the yellow dewdrops that dotted the floor and ...