His, Completely

Story Info
Career woman reluctantly gives up control to younger man.
8k words
4.38
46.9k
10
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
simon13
simon13
4 Followers

To the readers who liked my first story: this one's a similar premise...cheating wife scenario. However it's much different than "On a dare." There's a lot more back story and setup. You're not meant to like the main character, Veronica, at least at first. She's pretty much a snobby bitch. But to be fair, she is HOT snobby bitch!

*

"Oh Christ!"

Veronica's eyes scanned the kitchen. The countertop looked like a landslide of leftover mess from her husband's Monday Night Football party. Pizza boxes, filthy plates, empty bags of chips, beer cans, bottles and ashtrays. Before the game, Nicholas had made his famous meatball subs. He was supposed to have loaded the dishwasher before he went to work this morning, but dry red sauce was still caked on everything. The room reeked of garlic and stale beer.

Veronica fumed. Nick didn't have to be at work until 10 in the morning, while she was on her way to the office by 7am every day. Still, he hadn't even bothered to empty his friend's beer bottles for recycling. She could barely spot her precious black granite countertop below all the mess. The room looked more like a demolition site then a kitchen.

She checked her watch. "Ugh." She really needed a soak in the whirlpool before she left for her business trip tomorrow. Still, nothing got under her skin like a mess left in the house--especially a mess in her kitchen. Yes, her kitchen. Trip or no trip, there was no way she could relax upstairs knowing how things had been left down here.

She carefully rolled up the sleeves of her new Tahari blouse and lifted the first, biggest thing she saw. The saucepan. The lid was still on top, and she noticed just a moment too late that the pan was full of water. An oily red sludge sloshed out from under the lid and onto her slacks...

...The same mint clam diggers that she was planning on wearing out for dinner with her boss and his wife tomorrow night.

"Shit, noo!!"

She dropped the pot into the sink and spun around. Quickly, she kicked off her heels, and stripped out of her pants. She sprinted barefoot into the laundry and grabbed a stain stick. She rubbed the goo all over the stain and breathed a sigh of relief--it wasn't as big as she feared. Then, as she threw the pants into the washer, she remembered...

"Oh no! Oh no, no, no....Goddamnit Nicholas!!!"

Last week, the washer had gone on the fritz, and leaked soapy drain water all over the laundry floor. The had spread quickly, and was discovered only a foot or so from the pricey maple floor that she'd insisted on having installed in the kitchen when they bought the house. Nick was supposed to have gotten a plumber in to fix the drain line, but clearly, he had spaced on that too. A pair of disconnected drain hoses were still draped into the wash tub, where he'd left them. Score two for Nicholas.

Veronica checked her watch again and looked at the entrance to the kitchen. The light maple shone with perfect luster. Weighing the option of re-connecting the washer against the odds that it might leak again, Veronica quickly made up her mind. She grabbed the soiled pants and a few odds and ends and stuffed it all into a laundry bag. She dug in the hamper to find something else to wear and came up with a plaid skirt she'd worn to a party two weeks ago. It looked a bit "hot" with her white work blouse, but hey, she was in a hurry. She was going to the Laundromat, she was going to get her slacks clean, and then, she was going to get that whirlpool.

******

Veronica eased her silver Audi into the parking lot of a little Laundromat on the edge of town. It was a small, dingy, kind of forgotten-looking place. A relic from the 70's, she guessed. Every morning, as she headed out of her upscale new development and up to the expressway, Veronica clicked her tongue as she passed it. Shaking her head, she'd fantasize that somehow, overnight, someone--some developer--had just flattened the damn thing. She'd close her eyes and imagine that when she opened them back up, there'd be a Starbucks or Panera there. Or maybe a little organic grocer.

Oh well. Tonight, at least, she was thankful it was still just a trusty old Laundromat.

Veronica pushed open the door to the laundry and stepped inside. God, it really was tiny, she thought: just two rows of washers, then a dingy lounge area and a bank of big dryers on the far wall.

Down one row of washers, she saw a skinny welfare-mom type. The woman deposited her quarters in the last machine in the row and shut the lid. She cast Veronica an ironic little smile of victory meant to express that she'd claimed the aisle for herself and slid her basket onto the middle washer to mark her territory. Veronica squeezed around to the other side and let out a labored sigh. Down on the floor, sprawled across half of the aisle, was a young man with a crescent wrench. He appeared to be fixing the plumbing of one of the washers.

Looking up from the floor, the kid pointed towards the machines with his wrench.

"These four are out of commission for tonight. The two on the end though, they still work. Just give me a minute, I'll clear you a path."

Veronica leaned her back against the window as the young kid continue to wrench underneath the washer. In a snobbish, exasperated voice, she spoke:

"...Ok, because I've got like an hour and a half to get this wash done and dried. You have no idea what kind of shit I've had to deal with today."

Nonplussed, the kid checked his watch.

"Well, we're open 'till ten. You can either leave it or come back later on. If you want, I could transfer the clothes."

Veronica smiled a fake smile that seemed to say, "you are so on my shit list, little man" and again, checked her watch. Mentally repeating one of her mother's mantras about catching bees with honey she tried to tone down her attitude. She looked around,

"You don't have a cigarette machine here do you?"

The kid grimaced as he tightened something under the washer, then reached in his pocket. He pulled out a crumpled pack of Camels and offered them.

"No. But you can have one of these."

Veronica wrinkled her nose at the offered pack.

"...Or, there's a 7-11 downtown. Your choice..."

Veronica stepped forward to retrieve the crumpled pack. For a brief moment, she stood directly over the boy. As she leaned down to take the cigarette, she offered him a strained smile. He was nice looking, she observed. Young, maybe 19 or 20.

"Thank you."

She took her cigarette outside to the car, lit it from the lighter and called Nicholas on her cell. It went to voicemail immediately--his way of avoiding her--so she laid into him electronically:

"YOU ARE ON MY SHITLIST NICHOLAS!! What is up with the kitchen??!! Next paycheck you owe me a new outfit for the one I ruined trying to clean up your mess!! Do you hear me??!!"

She snapped the phone shut and slinked back in her seat. Inhaling the rich smoke from her cigarette, she pondered her marriage for a few moments. My husband is a child she thought to herself. He is never going to grow up and I am going to have to take care of him for the rest of our lives together. His only passion in life is football, and I am an accessory--worse, I'm turning into a substitute mother for him.

Veronica let out a deep sigh and tweaked the rear-view mirror around to confront herself. She checked her makeup, eyes, and lips. Really, she'd only come into her own in the last few years since she'd been promoted at work. She was now a regional sales manager and had a team of fifteen salesman beneath her. As she'd been promoted, her confidence had also risen. Lately, she realized that she was changing, becoming more of a boss and less of a subordinate. The change in job title also brought about an unexpected change in her physical confidence. She'd always known she was attractive, but now, having so many men underneath her at work, it seemed to have opened up her mind a bit about her sexuality. She had begun to feel much more confident and aggressive towards men at work and in her life. She knew that it was getting her a reputation as a "bitch," but secretly, she kind of liked the label. It made her feel capable, even a bit dangerous.

Of course, feeling her oats for the first time in her life had also caused her to re-examine her choice in a husband. Nicholas had been her first boyfriend in college and they seemed to have slipped right into marriage as a foregone conclusion. After a few years working at the university athletic department, he had hit a plateau in his career. And he seemed perfectly happy with it. He was an assistant athletic trainer for the football team--one of four trainers whose job it was to see the team fit for training and games. Really, he was the ultimate guys guy. He was on a team of trainers, whose task it was to cater to the kids on the team, watching them lift weights, logging their training stats, massaging them after practice. When he wasn't at work, he and his buddies were planning their fantasy football league. How had it escaped her, she now wondered, that her husband's entire life was about football. I could give a shit about football she thought quietly to herself. The most important thing in my husband's life, and I could give a shit about it.

Veronica swung her long legs out of her car and slowly walked over to the window of the Laundromat. As she finished the cigarette, she gazed through the glass at the at the young man sprawled out beneath the washers. As she watched him work, he smiled at her. Funny, she thought to herself, there's something familiar about him.

The kid's name was Carter, and, as he finished tightening down a compression valve he snuck a peak or two outside at the lady. She looked pretty well put-together he thought. Tall for a woman, and thin. Hot, in a business-y sort of way. He imagined she was probably 25, maybe 26. Kind of young to be so bossy, he thought, but then again, she looked like the kind of woman who came from some money and was used to getting her way. She'd made it obvious that she was put off by him being there--in her way--and for this, he was rewarding her by taking a few unnecessary minutes to finish the repair. As he noodled with the supply line, he snuck another glance or two up at her. She had her back turned now, and from behind, he admired her well-toned legs and fine womanly ass. She looked thin under that expensive blouse. He didn't remember much of a chest, but then again, he wasn't a tit man.

Carter chuckled to himself as he imagined the type of men who'd inhabit her world: groveling employees, smitten bosses, the earnest husband with the big checkbook. He'd noted the rock and the band on her left hand and he was sure that gold wasn't the only thing she knew how to wrap around her finger. Though young, Carter knew his way around women. Slowly, the devious little mechanisms of his mind sprung to life and began to turn. He wondered to himself: what it would take to have her?

*****

As soon as the kid finished, Veronica strutted back inside with her laundry slung over her shoulder. She loaded two machines, then marched over to a small lounge area by a soda machine. A sliver of light shone out from beneath what looked like a closet door on the other side of the lounge. Veronica sat down at a row of chairs and selected a People from a grimy stack of magazines. As her hands flipped the pages, her mind returned to the repair guy. There was something familiar about this kid, she thought. But for her life, she couldn't fathom how she knew him.

Veronica gazed over the top of the magazine at the light under the closed closet door. She cast her eyes around the Laundromat and noticed for the first time that the welfare hag had disappeared, leaving her alone with the boy. A moment later, the closet door opened. Veronica peered over her People at the young man as he emerged, wiping his hands with a towel. Her eyes remained on him for a second longer than they should have, as again, she struggled to place him. When the kid smiled back at her, Veronica realized she was staring,

"Oh, sorry."

"Oh that's OK. You can look all you like."

Veronica blushed,

"No, I mean... It's just that I think I know you from somewhere..."

They studied one another for a beat, but neither of them could make a connection. This time, the kid broke the silence.

"Would you like a soda?"

"No thanks...Well sure--I guess."

The kid selected a key from a large ring, and swung open the heavy soda machine door. Cold air spilled out into the room. As he walked over to Veronica, he wiped the lid off with his t-shirt. Gesturing at her manicured nails, he popped the top for her, then popped his own.

"You don't mind regular do you?"

Veronica looked at the can of Cola Classic in her hands and said "no." then added "thanks," (though she was a diet cola kind of girl). The kid then flashed her another smile--this one just a little bit cocky she thought--and put out his hand.

"My name's Carter."

Veronica slowly took his hand and shook. It felt stronger than she expected, warm. As she told him her name, she noticed his height: average, a bit taller than her for sure, but not as tall as Nicholas, anyway. He was very cute though--and in a way that was somehow both older and younger at the same time.

"I'm sorry, I know this sounds stupid, but you look familiar. Do you go to Lafayette?... My husband's the trainer for the football team."

Again, with the smile,

"No. I'm at state. Sophomore year."

"Oh."

Veronica's agile mind went to work. State school. Sophomore. What's that 20 years old? And then that name, "Carter," you didn't hear it very often, and she had known a Carter once, but, but...

She snuck another awkward glance at the kid. He stood there, looking out the window at traffic, coolly passive. As long as her attention was on him, he'd give her plenty of time to think. Veronica struggled with a memory from years ago--her junior year in high school. It was about ten years ago, and she'd almost completely forgotten about it. But no, she thought, it can't be. She couldn't imagine that this could be that Carter. Her voice betrayed just a hint of nervousness,

"Carter Dowling?"

This time, it was the kid's turn to look surprised.

"Yeah...Yes, actually."

"I'm Veronica Salford. ...You're from Longmont. You were... Weren't you a friend of Carrie Richards?"

Veronica's mind kind of hiccupped. She could feel her blush rising, and suddenly, in a moment, she could feel it betraying everything she knew about this boy. His name was Carter Dowling and back in high school, her friend Carrie used to baby sit for him.

His parents had been well off, but not showy-rich like most of the families in Longmont. They had moved to town in Veronica's freshman year of high school and from the start, most of the other parents thought the Dowlings were kind of eccentric--or at least aloof. The Dowlings weren't in the "in" crowd, but there was a lot of talk about how they liked to party. From what Carrie said, the Dowlings went out a lot on weekends--downtown--and often didn't get back 'til well into the morning. The other parents acted like the Dowlings were weird, but it was obvious that they were actually jealous. Mr. Dowling was handsome and suave, Mrs. Dowling was gorgeous and extremely confident. Of course the men were obviously smitten with her, while secretly their wives watched Mr. Dowling. There were even rumors about affairs, but if they happened, it was all very hush-hush. Somehow, no matter how the richy-riches tried to look down their noses, the two Dowlings seemed to float in a cloud above them. It was obvious that the Dowlings new who they were dealing with among the Longmont locals: big fishes in a little pond.

Over one summer, the Dowlings went on an extended Caribbean cruise. Carter was probably old enough to look after himself, but his parents offered to pay Carrie what amounted to almost three thousand dollars to baby-sit while they were away. They were supposed to be away for two weeks, but then called to say it would be a month. Soon, Carrie was practically living at their house. The thing that made this all so awkward at the moment though, was that over that month, Carrie became a lot more than a babysitter to young Carter. It had started with a lot of playing and flirting, yeah, but she started to confide in Veronica that for his age, Carter was kind of assertive--sexually--and that things might be getting, in Carrie's nervous giggle, "kind of wrong."

The upshot was that by the time Carter's parent's got back, Carrie had been sneaking out to the Dowling's house even when she wasn't supposed to be there, and doing practically everything with her young charge. They weren't that far apart in age, she explained, so there was nothing wrong with it. Plus, she reasoned, he was the one who started it.

Veronica still remembered the day when Carrie told her about sucking Carter off for the first time. Then a few days later, how he came almost immediately when they fucked for the first time. Over a short time, though, Carrie and Carter practiced their sex. She'd tell Veronica how eventually, he'd learned how to slow down so that they could both get off.

Hearing all about this, Veronica was kind of sickened at first. Then, as she heard the details of the sex and games her friend was trying, she became intrigued, and actually, kind of jealous. The kid was young, but he was cute--and seriously confident--beyond his years. Her friend Carrie had already had lots of boyfriends, but Veronica hadn't even kissed a guy yet.

Veronica had been the typical frustrated high school virgin. She was a top student and varsity in hockey and girl's lacrosse, but with guys, she usually came off as kind of pushy or rude. In fact, it was that very thing--her natural confidence--that scared the crap out of most guys her age. In turn, their timidity really turned her off. Throughout her high school years, Veronica knew that if the right guy had turned the key, she would have been ready. But of course, there was nobody like that in high school. Among her girlfriends in the "in" crowd, Veronica was somehow always the girl on the "out," secretly waiting for something--someone--to happen.

To the contrary, Carrie was a lot more charming and at ease. Veronica was the first person she had told about losing her virginity. Veronica even remembered how jealous she'd been to hear about it. Eventually, she even began to fantasize about Carrie's boyfriends when she masturbated herself. And alas, as she drank in the details of Carrie and Carter's escapades, Veronica began to think of the young man as she touched herself. For months, she'd imagined no one else but young Carter as she worked her tight virginal slit. Of course all this fantasizing and lack of sex made her feel even more awkward about her sexuality. Where was her first boyfriend when she needed one? Where was the young crush that worshipped her and who she could experiment with? Would she ever pop her cherry? These questions plagued Veronica through her senior year and even in to college when finally, she'd had her first boyfriend. Then, a year later she met Nicholas. And sadly, she'd been with Nicholas--and only Nicholas--ever since.

All these thoughts raced through Veronica's mind and formed a traffic jam in her mouth. She stood there, alone in the Laundromat with the subject of her teenage masturbation fantasies, awkwardly silent for several long moments without a clue what to do or say next. Keenly aware of the extended silence, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Your dad--He was a doctor or something, right?"

Carter took another sip of his soda before he walked over to a utility sink and poured the rest out.

"Proctologist, actually."

Veronica let out a nervous laugh. That's right, she thought, an ass-doctor...

simon13
simon13
4 Followers