That Time Of The Month

August 22, 2020

He laughed at himself as he parked the car outside the house. Horny. Again. Ah well, he’d have to get through the remaining afternoon without any relief, as he had for several weeks now. He turned off the engine and got out, glancing at his briefcase on the passenger seat. He wouldn’t be needing that for this quick visit.
At least a half-day at work had its advantages. He could collect the rent, be back in the car and watching a DVD with a glass of wine in an hour or so.

He turned and looked at the house in the gathering twilight. The change of Season was certainly coming in, though it afforded him the chance to see that his tenant was at home, by the light ***king through the chink in the curtains.

He checked himself in the wing mirror of the car, smoothing down his jacket over his jeans, and locking the car as he went down the outside steps to the front door.

The bell chimed, and he heard the light footsteps coming down the hallway. The door opened and she stood framed with the lights ablaze behind her. As ever she was prettily dressed, with a care for her appearance: blonde hair brushed and casual in a ponytail, a long black cardigan covering her light pink top, and a long black skirt finishing just above her tapering bare ankles and bare feet. No tights or … stockings… then, he found himself thinking inadvertently.

‘Hi’ She said brightly.

‘Hello’ he said, smiling back, ‘it’s that time of the month I’m afraid’.

‘Yes’ she said, giving him a quick smile and opening the door, ‘you’d better come in, it’s your house after all’.
And so it was. His house, His tenant.

‘How’s the study coming along?’ he asked as he went down the hallway to the conservatory.

She grimaced. ‘Not bad, another essay, another deadline, you know how it is’.

‘It’s been a while since I was a student’ he joked, noticing how her eyes were made up with a pastel eye shadow faintly mirroring her pink ..what...T-shirt? Tank top? He couldn’t tell as the cardigan covered most of it, as well her slim arms and lithe figure. Jeez, he thought, out of it! She’s going to notice if you go on like this, and the last thing he wanted was an awkward Landlord-tenant arrangement. So far so good. She’d been in the house four months and no trouble. Paid on time, kept it in good order and was pleasant and friendly with the right amount of respect in her voice when he called round.

‘Drink?’ she offered.

‘Ummm’, well why not, he was in no tearing rush this time, and it was suddenly welcome to be having a moment with a younger attractive blonde. ‘Sure’ he said, ‘what’s on offer?’

‘You decide’ she said, ‘it doesn’t feel quite right me plonking something down in front of you.’

‘Ah, like the man to make the decisions do you? Not about to burn your bra then?’

Strangely, she blushed. ‘Hardly’ she retorted.

For a moment he thought she was referring to the fact that she didn’t seem to be wearing a bra. He’d tried not to look, but, well...he was a man, and a horny one at that.

‘It’s the twenty-first century’ she went on, ‘I think bra burning was quite a while back?’ You’d remember though I’m sure’ she added cheekily, referring to the age gap between them.

Typical. He laughed at himself for the second time in minutes. Get a grip! She’d hardly be flirting with him, would she!
Time to get on with things he decided.

‘I’ll skip the drink, no offence’ he said, ‘but maybe we should get on. You’re obviously studying’, indicating the open laptop on the table, ‘and I have a date with a DVD fairly soon.’

‘OK’ she said, sitting down, ‘it’s just, well… the thing is... I wondered if I could pay you the rent next week...or in about ten days if it’s ok. I’ve had a few things to shell out for that I wasn’t really expecting.’

There was a pause.

She was looking at him in a half-hoping, half-***ful way, clearly non too sure which way he’d answer. He sat back in his chair, thinking fast.
‘Oh dear’ he said, ‘I’m a little disappointed. You’ve always been so good before too.’

She blushed again and distractedly smoothed the errant hairs behind one ear.

‘I don’t like to disappoint you’ she said, looking down. ‘I really didn’t plan it this way’.

Dammit. He could feel himself harden. This was plain weird. Something about the blushing? Or the way she couldn’t meet his gaze?

‘Oh dear’ he said again, breaking the awkward pause, ‘what to do? Now if I were a Victorian I could take what you owe me the old fashioned way’ he laughed, shortly. Why had he said that?! Clumsy, clumsy! He should be pleasant, put her at her ease and just agree. It wasn’t as if he was desperate … not for *** anyway.

She half-whispered into the silence, ‘you wouldn’t make me do that would you?’ Not meeting his gaze. Blushing. Again.

His cock throbbed. The air was heavy with possibility. One of those moments where time slowed and unseen ears seemed to listen in while invisible eyes watched and waited.
Dimly he heard a voice, his voice, say, ‘Touch your breasts for me’.

And she did. Incredibly! Unbelievably! Slowly, as if her hands were suddenly leaden imitations of reality, they lifted, and her fingers…delicate, slim, flexed. Her blush grew deeper and she took one deep breath, that lifted her chest as her fingers barely stroked her nipples. She let out the breath in short gasping sounds.

He wasn’t quite believing it. Not really. When did the world change? Who cared! He watched as she kneaded her breasts – for him – using her thumbs to brush over both nipples.

‘Look at me’ he said.

Softly, full of shame, ‘I can’t’.

He watched her. He knew she could feel his eyes following every small change of finger movement, each change in the texture as she stroked, then pulled and pinched her nipples. Softly, More firmly. He saw her long skirt faintly ripple as she tensed her legs and buttocks beneath the material.

‘You’re enjoying this’ he barely breathed, as realisation swept through him.

‘Please’ she whispered, hardly audible, ‘don’t make me any more. I just… I just don’t want to let you down. Ten days?’ Her face lifted in the briefest of glances, before blushing yet again. He saw her eyes were wet. No tears, hardly that, but…what? Shame. ***… and some kind of need that he didn’t fully understand. He’d dwell on that later. After he’d watched her, he thought, his cock jumping beneath his jeans.

‘Lift up your skirt’ he demanded.

‘I can’t. Please’ she pleaded in that faint whisper. Ashamed.

The softness of her voice made him suddenly furious.

‘Lift it up you slut’ he demanded. ‘You need to pay me what you owe me don’t you!’ It wasn’t a question.

Hesitantly, so slowly, she gathered her skirts in her hands and lifted the hem, seeming like a young child about to save her skirt from a wetting in some puddle. Childish, and so damn erotic. He could barely draw breath as he caught sight of the lacy black thong, the narrow gusset covering her… seemingly … shaven lips and the thin band of black disappearing into the waistband of her skirt.

He leaned forwards and held it all, the thin cotton material of her skirt, in one fist. The movement brought them closer together and he could actually feel the heat from her burning face.

‘Now cum’ he said, his lust making his voice harsher.

Obediently she let her right hand drop almost lazily to her clit. He took his gaze from her circling fingers and lifted her face on a level with his, looking into her eyes.

‘No… please… don’t look at me’ she breathed, trying to look past him, at his knees, anywhere but straight at him, tears now slowly making her blink. ‘Oh please don’t make me…’

He did make her. He held her chin in his firm grip as she masturbated. As she cried, quietly, without fuss, without fight, her breath coming in shorter and more urgent gasps, her eyes never on his, looking down, finally closing as she shuddered in the climax of her shameful orgasm, excited and diminished, spent and shameful.

He pushed her head back into her chair. His cock ached. Throbbed.

‘What exactly was that?’ he asked her. It wasn’t rhetorical.

She couldn’t look at him. She sat with her skirt up above her knees. Her right hand still trapped in the black thong, faintly trying to cover her clit, fingers glistening.

‘Oh please’ she begged. And it really did sound like she was begging. ‘please...go…I… I don’t know…’ And she faltered.

He rose to his feet. Mind awhirl he edged past her towards the front door. God but that was … so erotic. What was it that just happened exactly? She hadn’t moved. He put out his hand to open the door. He couldn’t do it.
He turned again and walked back into the conservatory. She looked at him, quickly then averted her eyes.

‘Don’t look at me’ she said.

He sat opposite her and leaned back. ‘oh dear’, he said in a flat tone, ‘it’s that time of the month again’. And saw her eyes widen in shocked surprise. ***ful. Ashamed. Aroused.