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"Don't be silly." I lay my hand on his shoulder. "You're exactly what I was looking for. I wouldn't have asked you if you weren't." Actually, he wasn't - I'd had my eye on someone else entirely. But Barry's an old friend, and I'm a sucker for lost puppy dogs. So, a change of plan and, I think, time for a change of mood as well. Why should Steve be having all the fun? As Barry turned to face me, my mouth first brushed, then bit hard on his lips.

"Ouch!" He tried to pull back, but my teeth remained locked on his bottom lip, until the first fleck of blood hit my taste buds. Then I moved back and, standing, wrapped my hands around the back of his head and pressed it against my stomach. "Your problem, Barry Winters," I murmured in a low voice. "Is that you let that woman walk all over you. In other words, you're a pushover." With the flat of my hand against his forehead, I knocked him backwards to illustrate my words. "And you know what happens to pushovers, don't you?"

Barry shook his head. "I'm not sure..."

"Of course you're not sure." His head was level with my hips. "Your sort are never sure, which is why you let that bitch treat you like dirt. Whereas I...." I tugged at a clump of his hair. "I'm going to show you how to get your own back. Now, take off your clothes."

He started to object, but my expression silenced him. It's not as though we'd not slept together before, but it was a long time ago, back before he met Cassie. Fumbling, Barry began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Faster," I commanded, then reached down and roughly pulled the garment over his head. "And the rest. But not your briefs. You can leave them on."

Barry stood, and pulled off his shoes, socks and jeans, almost over-balancing in his haste to obey. I stripped too, so that when he looked up again, I was standing naked before the fire place. He moved towards me.

"Did I tell you to come here?" I barked. He stopped. "Now kneel."

Now he looked confused and, for a moment, my heart bled for him. But only for a moment. I meant all those things I said about him, he really was a wimp when it came to women. Someone had to give him some balls... or, at least, restore his self-confidence, and there was no time like the present.

He knelt and I moved closer, looked down and burst out laughing again. "You see, Barry? Putty in my hands. You need to stand up for yourself sometimes. Now come here... stand up and come here, and give me a kiss."

Barry hesitated, and then spoke. "No. You come here."

I couldn't help but giggle. "Oh, so now we get masterful, do we? Alright then." I stepped over and, for several minutes, we stood locked in a deep, warm and beautiful kiss, the kind that Barry had not experienced since he and his wife were first married. Inside the underpants that I insisted he keep on, I felt his cock shake off its own bemusement, harden and strain for release. I pushed gently back with my hips, as his hand first brushed, then cupped one of my breasts, and now it was my turn to let out a moan, as he squeezed the nipple firmly between forefinger and thumb.

He broke the kiss. "Now, how about you get down on your knees," he suggested, his expression betraying just the slightest flicker of doubt as my eyes locked with his. But I fell to the floor without a word, my hands locked in my lap, and my face gazing innocently up at his.

"Kiss my stomach," he commanded, and I leaned dutifully forward, and did so - one soft, fleeting kiss.

Again," he asked, and I repeated the gesture, a quick peck before resuming my position.

Gauging his uncertainty, I spoke. "You'll have to be a little clearer if you want anything more. I just do what I'm told - nothing more, nothing less. You should understand that."

He caught the jibe in my voice, and I don't think he liked it. "I want you to lick my belly, bite it and nuzzle it. I want to feel your mouth all over my stomach"; and then he gasped as my hands gripped his hips and I was smothering his torso with my lips and tongue, slathering down the hairs that roamed upwards from his waistline, drilling into his belly button, till he was slick with my saliva.

His cock felt enormous now, rising above the waistband of his briefs to bump against my neck and chest as I worked on him... and I knew he was only experiencing half of those sensations, as he searched in his mind for the next command he wanted to give. I wondered how coarse he might dare to be - I'm sorry, but the most obvious words ("suck my prick"), really didn't strike me as the kind of utterance Barry could make, no matter how desperately he might want to. And I was right. It seemed like a teasing eternity before he finally found an expression he could live with. "Pull down my briefs."

I relinquished my hold on his hips, and jerked his underpants down in one swift movement. Free at last, seven inches of thick dick sprang lustfully towards my face and, for a moment, neither Barry nor I moved a muscle.

The smell was intoxicating, musky and thick as the purple head that bobbed before my eyes. My mouth was watering, my pussy moistening. If he didn't say something soon...

"Tell me what you see," he breathed.

I swallowed my own excitement. "Why, I do declare it's a penis," I replied, a mock Southern accent accentuating the final word. "Whatever shall I do?"

"Kiss it," Barry said and, this time, he didn't seem quite so disappointed as I leaned forward and, with a lot more patience than I was feeling inside, repeated the routine peck I had originally delivered to his stomach. Any touch at all probably felt heavenly at this point. "Now lick it."

Again, my movement was perfunctory, my tongue poking ramrod straight from my mouth and delivering a hard, warm slurp to his shaft. But the sound of his breathing revealed his own feelings on the subject, while my own breath was coming in short, hard gasps that pleaded for more explicit instructions.

"Again. And keep licking..." his knees grew weak as my tongue swirled hungrily across his helmet, around the rim, tickling in the corners where his shaft met the glans, and probing curiously into the crest on the tip, where the first drops of pre-cum were already forming. My movements were slow, and my tongue was relishing the taste of him. But my lips were begging to share in the thrill, and without waiting for another word from him, I closed my mouth over the end of his cock, drawing him deep inside my mouth, crushing him in the warm wetness, as my senses swarmed over the hot, firm flesh.

I wondered what Barry was thinking now; if he knew that he ought to order me to stop, admonish me for sucking when I was supposed to be licking. But of course he didn't (couldn't!) speak; so it was time to take matters in hand (figuratively and literally) once again.

I pulled him out of my mouth with an audible plop. "See, even when you think you're in charge, you're still a pushover," I spoke firmly. "And, now that you have dropped the ball, so to speak, perhaps it's time to remind you who is really in charge here."

I squeezed his knob roughly, then reached down to clasp his balls. "Hmm, you're probably not going to last much longer, not with a load like that." I crossed to the settee, and balanced myself on one arm, my legs spread wide. "So let's see what you've got." He was standing in front of me; I reached down and literally dragged his prick towards my pussy, thrilling as we first made contact, and flooding as his thickness spread my lips and slid effortlessly in.

"No, don't move," I told him. "Just stay still; let me...." I set my pussy walls pulsating around him, squeezing his shaft so gently as I took his hand and slid one finger into my mouth, coating it in saliva. "Slide it into my ass. Deep. I want you to feel your cock moving inside me as you come."

Like his prick, his finger entered me effortlessly, eased by my so-overflowing pussy juices. My fingernails dug into his back and I groaned as he pushed his cock forward. And that was it. Even as Barry prepared to thrust again, I sensed the tumult roaring up from his balls, exploding out his cock, flooding my snatch as I, with my own wild grunt, surrendered to a shattering orgasm, and the pair of us collapsed, panting and giggling, off the settee and on to the floor.

We were still there, with just a throw stretched over us, when Steve and his blonde lady stepped out for breakfast the following morning, and might have remained there even longer if the smell of coffee and bacon had not finally roused us... ostensibly to have a quick shower, but (if you must know) to fuck once more in the bathroom, and a bunch more times before the weekend was over.

And the following Friday found us both back at the bar, drinking with the same pack of friends, and everybody remarked on just how great Barry looked, though they'd all heard that his wife came back to him on Thursday. He was even cracking jokes again, including one they'd never heard before.

"Three guys walk into a bar carrying suitcases, sit down at different ends of the bar and stare into space. The barman walks over to the first one. ‘You okay, buster?'

"The guy sighs. ‘My wife told me she wanted more spice in her sex life, so I bought her some sexy underwear. She told me she hated it, and she threw me out.'

"The barman goes to the second guy. ‘You okay?'

"This one's crying. ‘My wife told me she wanted more spice in her sex life, so I bought home some whips and chains. She called me a pervert and threw me out.'

"So the barman goes over to the third guy, and he's laughing his head off. ‘You okay?' ‘Oh yes,' he replied. ‘My wife told me she wanted more spice in our sex life. So I told her she had all the thyme in the world, and walked out on her forever'."

Barry raised his own bag off the floor, and I kissed his cheek. "And he did it all by himself," I announced. "Nobody's going to be pissing all over him anymore." Then I crouched and whispered in his ear. "Well, not unless you ask them to."

He looked at me with wide, hopeful eyes, and I smiled back just as brightly. To be honest, I've never been interested in golden showers, giving or receiving. But something Barry said on the phone last night got me thinking about it. And tonight might just be the night to try.

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