This is a work of fiction,
loosely based on the characters from the film “Mystery,
This story is for readers over the age of 18 only, and contains explicit sexual situations and adult language. The writer is not responsible for any "discomfort" caused to the reader by this language and these situations.
Taking
Care
© by Whisperee1
First
light shone through the east window of the Biebe master bedroom. John stirred,
feeling the warmth of a body pressed close to him. “Hmmm,” John whispered.
He began to feel the familiar surge in his nether regions and rolled over to see
if Donna was in a similar state.
“Oh!”
He was startled to see his youngest son next to him, his wife on the other side.
“Oh, fuck!” He jumped out and ran to the bathroom so that his son wouldn’t
wake to find him in that condition.
“Shit,”
he thought as he rested on the top of the toilet. Game day and he wanted a
little warming up. “Damn kids, why
can’t they sleep in their own beds?” John instinctively began to stroke
himself. “Better than nothing,” he thought. Feeling a moan rising in his
throat, he turned on the faucet to mask the telltale sounds of his activity.
“Daddy,
I have to pee!” a small urgent voice rang from the other side of the door.
“Shit!”
“Just a minute, Daddy’s not done yet, son.” Just a little bit more.
“I
really gotta pee!”
“Uhhrgh!”
“Daddy!”
“Ok,
ok, here you go, Joey.” John opened the door to his son, who was hopping back
and forth from one foot to the other.
“Good
morning, Daddy,” Joey rang out as he pulled his pants down and rushed in the
bathroom...
John
pulled on some clothes and went to the kitchen, where Donna had just started the
morning routine. She stopped to kiss him on the way to prepare the coffee.
“Good morning, hon, sleep well?”
“Better
if the kids would learn to sleep in their own bed! Jesus, Donna, he’s almost
5!”
“He
had a bad dream, what was I going to do? Boy, you are in a bad mood.”
John
gave her a withering look as he pulled on his sweater. “I’m going to do a
bit of work before going to the game.” Without waiting for an answer, he
brushed by her and walked into the extra bedroom that served as an office. Donna
gave him a quizzical look, shrugged, and continued making breakfast.
“C’mon
boys – breakfast, breakfast, let’s go!”
John
sat down with a sigh at his desk, looking wistfully at the photo of young Donna
Biebe, smiling up at him. “Oh Donna,” he said softly, “all I want is some
time alone with you.” But he knew that with two kids, his job, her new job,
and the Game, that that was almost impossible. Gone were the days of Saturday
morning fuck-fests, the long nights together in each other’s arms, enjoying
and pleasuring each other.
It
made it worse to hear his teammates’ locker room talk. Skank always had a girl
or two to brag about, and lately had been talking about computer sex with a girl
he’d met on line. According to Skank, it was great – lots of dirty talk, and
no worries about disease or pregnancy. The women were always as good looking as
you wanted them to be. It sounded kind of sad to John.
John
found himself typing in the web address on his desktop. Just to take a quick
peek; he’d never do anything. Let’s see, www.DateMeAK.com. A long list of
available screen names scrolled by with names like “Hot Suzie” and
“Dynode” Most with obscene smilies or “IM Me” next to the names. He
spent the next couple of minutes browsing the feminine merchandise.
Michael
came in to the room. “Whatcha doin’ Dad?
Checking the scores?” as he walked around to the monitor. John snapped
the monitor off, and turned off the computer.
“Yeah,
the Kings won again.” He got up. “Ready to go to the game, Mike?” he said,
taking his son’s shoulder.
“Yeah,
Dad. Let’s go!”
“John?”
Donna called out from the next room. “Don’t forget about Joe Daylor’s snow
blower blades. You said...”
“Yeah,
I’ll take care of it!” he shouted, not waiting for her to finish.
That
afternoon’s game was a rough and defensive one. Although he didn’t score and
only had one assist, at the end of the game he felt as if he’d played two
games’ worth. His teammates gave him a razzing in the locker room after the
game.
“What’s
a matter, John, little out of breath? That was some check on Tree you made –
he actually stumbled back a half an inch!”
“I
bet Donna sapped his strength!” Skank said loudly. As the guys laughed, John
stood up and faced Skank.
“Don’t
talk about my wife like one of your dates, Skank,” he said quietly and firmly.
The laughing stopped. The calmer John’s voice was, the more they knew he meant
business.
“Just
havin’ a bit of fun, John.”
“Not
at her expense, okay?”
“Yes,
Sheriff.”
That
evening passed as many other Saturday evenings, kids watching TV, Donna doing
some on-line shopping on her laptop. John watched the clock waiting for the kids
to fall asleep. When they had done so, John knelt next to Donna and blew into
her ear.
“How’s
my princess? Ready for bed?”
“Yes,
John,” she said smiling, taking his hand. The couple hugged and kissed their
way into the bedroom, shedding layers of flannel.
“At
last,” John sighed, pushed Donna on the bed. She giggled and inched her way
toward the center of their king-sized bed.
“Mommy,
I think I’m going to be sick.” It was Michael, coming into the room holding
his belly.
“Go
to the bathroom, Michael, hurry!” They both shouted at once. Too late. Michael
unloaded his dinner onto the bedroom floor.
“Oh,
honey,” Donna said, guiding her elder son into the bathroom. She held his head
as he vomited a few more times. John put on his robe and set about cleaning up
the mess. When he had finished, he looked in on Donna tucking in Michael.
“I’m
just going to sit with him a bit while he gets settled down. Sorry, honey.”
John
shrugged and went downstairs. Getting a beer from the fridge, he went into the
study and switched on ESPN. Then he spotted the computer, screen still on.
Lingering in front of the desk, he absently typed ‘www.dateMeAK.com’ into
the search bar and up popped the familiar screen, asking for people to IM.
“IM?
Oh, yeah, instant messaging.” He logged on to the IM provider, entering the
screen name that Donna had made up for him:
“BBBear.” He paused, holding the cursor over the enter button. On an
impulse, he pressed it.
Suddenly,
a window popped up. “Hello, Sugar, date me?” An avatar appeared of a winsome
blond with a finger placed against her pursed lips. HushHush2 was the screen
nic.
John
froze. Now what?
“Are
you there? Do you want to date me, Sugar? I give good message.” A smilie with
a tongue sticking out served as punctuation.
John
stared for a minute or two before responding, “Can we just chat for a bit?”
“Sure
Sugar, tell me anything.” Winking Smilie.
“Just
so you know. I’m married.”
“We’re
not doing anything, love. Just chatting. Btw, admitting you’re married is
usually a no-no.” Big grin smilie.
“Just
curious. Why are you doing this?”
“It’s
the ultimate zipless hook-up, isn’t it? No pressures, no worrying about what
to wear.”
“Oh,
and what ARE you wearing?” John typed.
“Oh,
God, not that line, you seemed like a good guy.”
“I
am, sorry, just kidding. Can’t use those emoticon things.”
“So
you’re married. Tell me about her.”
“She’s
everything to me, and I miss her.”
“She’s
gone? Did she leave you?”
“No,
it’s just our lives are too full to spend any time with each other.”
“Sounds
like you are in serious need of attention, sugar.”
“I
guess.” John suddenly felt a little guilty. Why? He was just typing into a
screen. “I gotta go,” he typed.
“BBBear?”
came the response, “can we meet again?”
John
paused. “Sure,” he entered.
“I
check in here on my lunch hour and this time of night, if you ever want to look
for me. Just put my screen nic into your accepted list and you’ll know if
I’m on. Just to talk if you want.”
“Okay,
thanks.” He signed off.
The
next week was a typical one. Being Sheriff of Mystery wasn’t a physically
dangerous one, but it was never dull. The town had come to rely on their Sheriff
for taking care of any minor squabble or inconvenience. His latest challenge was
the escalating battle between Les Cooper and Emma Wilcox about Ms. Wilcox’s
dog, Skippy.
Having
determined that yes, Skippy should not use the back of Les’s truck as an
outhouse, and yes, Ms. Wilcox should walk Skippy more regularly, John returned
to his office. “I knew this job was
dangerous when I took it,” he said to himself as he returned to his
office. He sat down on his desk and paused before his computer screen. In a few
keystrokes he was once again in IM mode. Hey, there she was, HushHush2. He
IM’d: “Hey, you’re here!” he
typed.
After
a pause, there was a response. “Hi sugar, looking for some sweetness?”
Smilie.
John
took a deep breath and wrote, “What do you have in mind?”
“Your
mouth, your arms, your big hard cock come to mind. Coming comes to mind,”
scrolled the response.
“Jesus,”
John whispered under his breath, “that was to the point.” On the screen he
typed, “How?” He stirred in his chair and glanced furtively around.
“Any
way you want lover, frontways, sideways, backways….” John couldn’t believe
what he was reading. Why was this making him so hot?
“Hey,
Sheriff, Mrs. Johnson’s here to report that someone egged her mailbox
again.”
“Okay,
I’ll take care of it.”
John
snapped off the computer. As he did so, he caught the eye of Terri Becker, the
new receptionist. She was typing at
the computer, smiling at him conspiratorially. Was she HushHush2? She would
often flirt with him, and damned if she didn’t have the tightest twin set
collection in western
“Want
to go grab a cup of coffee after I finish up with Mrs. Johnson?” he found
himself saying.
“Sure,”
she said brightly.
Some
minutes later they sat across from each other in one of the small booths at the
back of the coffee shop. John faced the door, just in case. Terri leaned in, her
breasts peering out at him from her v-neck top.
“John,
it’s so nice to get to spend some time with you,” She said, leaning in
toward him. “Everyone talks about how good a man you are,” she purred. “So
kind.” She took his hand, stroking it slowly and sensuously.
John
looked at her closely; she was a fine looking young woman, and smelled good too.
He moved in a little closer, taking a longer look at her breasts. He felt
himself begin to rise, and was thankful for the table between them. “Why
am I doing this?” he asked himself.
That
relief was soon supplanted by the shock of a foot rubbing his thigh, then his
groin, in rhythm with her hand stroking his.
“Yes,
I guess that makes you the biggest man in Mystery, Sheriff John.” She
continued stroking him. “Hmm, yes it does.”
“Oh
God,” thought John to himself, “this
is not good.” Although it did feel
good. ”Think, think. Gotta be careful or you’ll have a sexual harassment
suit on your hands!”
“You
know, Terri,” he said, taking her foot off his crotch. “I appreciate that,
but I asked you here to tell you that Tree has his eye on you.”
“Tree?”
she was interested.
“Yes,
we talked about it after the Game on Saturday. He kept asking all sorts of
questions about you, what you liked to do for fun, if you had a boyfriend. He
was really quite insistent.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,
and,” he leaned in, “he’s much bigger than I am.”
“Oh,”
she giggled, “Sheriff John, you’re naughty.”
“Just
a bit. Shall I tell Tree you’ll speak with him?”
“Okay,”
she said still giggling.
“Good,
let’s get back.” Whew. That was close.
The
afternoon was filled with paperwork and more paperwork. From time to time, his
eyes fell on his computer screen. He
found himself checking a couple of times to see if HushHush2 was logged on, but
she was not.
At
“What’s
cookin’ hon? Smells great!” he said, stealing a piece of the salad.
“Lasagna.
Yes, your favorite.”
He
motioned to the kitchen table. “Do you want me to set the table?”
“It’s
done – in the dining room, with the good china.”
“The
good china, with the kids?” he asked, peering into the living room. The table
was dressed with linens, candles and their good china. But just two places.
“What’s
up, Donna? Where are Michael and Joey? It’s a school night!”
Donna
smiled and handed him a glass of red wine. “Michael and Joey are both having a
sleepover with Teddy.. Surprise!”
she toasted with her wine “Here’s to Teddy’s mom!”
“No
kids? Us alone?” he laughed. “I don’t think I remember what to do!”
Donna
pulled him closer, giving him a little kiss. “You’re slowing down, old
bear,” she said. “It didn’t used to take you this long to kiss me.”
John
pressed her against him and kissed her more urgently.
“Like this?” he said.
“Oh,
yes!” Donna replied with an uptake of breath.
As
they continued their kiss, their tongues dancing together, John moved his hands
up Donna’s shirt, covering her breasts with his hands. He moaned as he
realized she wasn’t wearing her bra, and that her nipples were hard.
Donna uttered a quick “oh!” as he began to circle her nipples with
his fingers, cupping his palms around her.
They
lost their balance briefly, and stumbled to the kitchen wall.
Using the wall to steady them, John kept one hand on her breast as he
brought his other up his wife’s leg. Her
breathing became shallower and more rapid in anticipation. When his hand reached
its destination, he emitted a low moan as he felt his wife’s soft, wet folds,
waiting for his touch.
“And
where did you last see your undergarments, Mrs. Biebe?” he mumbled between
kisses.
“Why,
I’m sure I don’t know, Sheriff,” she replied in mock innocence.
“Shall
we go to the bedroom to look for them?”
“No,
I think you should do a cavity search. Right here, right now.” she replied
with a rush, reaching for the snap on his jeans.
“Whatever
you say, Ma’am.” John replied with a giggle. He helped her with his pants,
and dropped them around his ankles. Then, moving her skirt up over her waist, he
pushed himself into her, pressing her back against the wall. She circled him
with her legs.
“Deeper,
John, deeper,” she urged with a moan.
John
thrust slow and hard, trying to feel every inch of her silken walls.
“Oh
please, harder,” she called out. John accelerated his hips, leaning into her
as far as she could take him.
“Yes,
that’s it John. Oh,” her voice caught as she came, and she exhaled loudly
with relief. With a few more thrusts, he, too, was calling out her name as he
reached his own climax.
John
opened his eyes to the dreamy smile of his wife, her hair covered in some kind
of crumbs.
“Donna,
what’s that on your head?” he asked, pulling up his pants.
“What?
Oh, no, Michael’s Cheerio Polar Bear picture.
It’s ruined,” she said with a giggle. “What should we do?”
“Get
rid of the evidence – throw the damn thing out! We can’t keep the kids’
artwork forever anyway – especially the food artwork.”
“Okay,
but he was so proud of that polar
bear. Hope he doesn’t notice.”
Donna
shoved the picture in the trash, and turned to take her husband’s hand.
“C’mon, John, I have something for you.”
John
mouthed a silent “What?” and let himself be led to the bedroom, which had
been lit with candles “What’s
all this?”
“Lie
down, let me help you get these clothes off.”
John
let Donna strip him, and smiled as she removed her own disheveled clothes.
“C’mere,
Donna.”
Donna
took his arm and reached it over John’s head, inching it toward a pair of
handcuffs that were attached to the bed board.
John looked up and stopped her.
“What
are you doing Donna – handcuffs?” he looked in amazement.
“I
thought you might want something different, Honey,” she said quietly.
“Oh
Donna, no, not handcuffs, we don’t need those.”
“What’s
a matter, afraid of giving up control?”
“Maybe,”
he laughed. “No, I think I just
like using my hands too much,” he drew her close. “I just want to be with
you, Donna. You don’t have to do
all this special stuff, feed me, or service me. I just want it to be us,
together.”
“No,
handcuffs?”
“No.”
he said, enveloping her in his large arms, “Not now, anyway.”
“No
mirror over the bed?”
He
looked up and laughed. “Well, that might be interesting – how did you get
that up?”
“Bobby
helped me.”
“Bobby?
Oh no, now everyone’s going to know.
And how are we going to hide this from the kids?”
“Don’t
worry, I have a cover for it.” She kissed his lips tenderly; stroked his
beard. John moved his hands down her body, finding their way to her sweet spot,
which was becoming wet again. As he rubbed her, he sank two fingers deep inside
her, making her toss her head back in ecstasy.
“And
you wanted to tie up my hands,” he whispered into her ear.
“Stupid
me.”
They
snuggled down together, him pushing his fingers into her with one hand, fondling
her breasts with another. As she turned, he was able to kiss her neck and blow
lightly in her ear. Again, he could
feel her excitement heighten.
“Yes,
love, come for me, love.” As he
said this, he draped her leg over his and entered her, moving in rhythm to her
pulsing hips. “Come for me
love,” he urged again. And she
did, sighing that sweet sigh he loved to hear.
He
continued moving inside her, slowly, then quickly, savoring the stimulation of
his wife’s womanhood. He could have sworn she came again as he felt his seed
jet forth inside her. They lay
together silently for a few minutes, holding each other tightly.
“John,
honey, that was wonderful.”
“Yeah.”
He heard his stomach growl. “That
lasagna smells good.”
“Oh,
since you don’t want me to pamper you, I thought I’d put the lasagna in the
freezer and give us some leftovers,” she grinned.
“Not
on your life,” he laughed, jumping up to go to the kitchen.
John
floated into the office the next day, occasionally stifling a chuckle as he
remembered breakfast. The kids had
stopped home before going off to school and caught their parents in a steamy
embrace in the kitchen.
“Ugh,
Mom and Dad, get a room!” said Michael.
“Don’t
talk to your mother like that Michael,” John had scolded, turning to Donna.
“Where did he learn to talk like that?”
Donna
had just laughed.
“Hey,
what happened to my polar bear? Where’s my Cheerio polar bear” Oops, he had
noticed.
“Well,
son,” John had said seriously, taking his son by the shoulders. “There was a
terrible accident. We did everything we could, but the polar bear didn’t make
it.”
With
that, both he and Donna burst into fits of laughter.
Michael and Joey looked at each other.
“C’mon
Joey – Mom and Dad are just weird, ” Michael had said when they left.
John
wondered if Michael understood what that was all about. He hoped it wasn’t
yet.
Bobby
poked his head in. “Mornin’
John, how’s things?”
“Fine,
Bobby, just fine.”
“Did
you enjoy the little redecoration I helped Donna with?”
“Oh
Shit. That’s right.” John
walked over and stood close, pointing a finger in his face.
“Not
one word, do you understand? Not one word.”
“No,
sir. Glad to help, sir!” he winked and left.
“Great.
I’ll never hear the end of this now.” John sat
down at the computer. He turned it on and logged in.
“Hi
Bear, want some sweetness?” popped up the IM.
“Hi.”
He typed back.
“Can
you play now?”
“No,
I’m sorry, but we need to stop.”
“Stop
what? We haven’t done anything.”
“No,
but, I just don’t want to; don’t take it personally.”
“I
think my BBBear got taken care of last night.”
“I
told you I was married.”
“Yeah,
but how married?”
“I
already told you. I’m going to
filter out your nickname, sorry," John moved his cursor over to the IM
list.
“Wait,
BBBear – it’s me, Donna.”
“Donna?
No, who is this really?”
“It’s
me, and I have the Cheerios in my hair to prove it.”
“Jesus,
Donna. How? Why?”
“I
have net nanny software on our home computer and saw the site you visited. I
can’t believe you used the IM ID I gave you.
You’re not very sneaky, Sheriff.”
“You
were trying to set me up? That’s entrapment!”
“I
didn’t want to trap you, John. Really, if you were looking for something else,
I just wanted to be that something else. Can you understand?”
“You
ARE something else, Donna, don’t worry.”
“Looks
like I don’t have to worry, do I?”
“No,
but I have to worry about you. Dirty IM-ing, mirrors, handcuffs. What have you
been thinking about?”
“Wouldn’t
you like to know?
“Yes,
I would.”
“Good,
just keep me on your list. We can chat more later, any time you want.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.
I love you, John..”
“I
love you too. Bye.”
Bobby
came into his office again. “John, Les Cooper’s got Skippy again, and it
doesn’t look good.”
“Okay,
I’ll take care of it.:
John
kissed his fingers and pressed them to his wife’s avatar, “Thanks for taking
care of me,” he whispered, and logged off.
THE END
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