Scrabbling

I spied on Twitter that Exhibit A was running a prompt with a prize. Basically, the idea was to take a word from the Scrabble board above (image owned by EA) and produce a blog post using it as a title or a theme. Well, my brain is hurting from all the erotica flexing it’s been doing this week, so I decided to play a game with myself. Instead of choosing one word, I wove all (I think) but the two letter ones alphabetically through this wee story. It ain’t my best work to date, but the challenge was fun.

“Hey, what happened to all the bananas?”

Ron looked at Linda’s reflection in the hall mirror. Tie finally straight, he pushed glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, love, I ate them.”

Linda did not look amused. “All of them?” she said with a disapproving frown.

“I was hungry. I was sat at the kitchen table forever trying to write that cover letter for you and the fruit bowl was just right there.”

Ugh, he was such a chump. Linda sometimes wondered why she’d married him. His job wasn’t worth a dime, he was tight with his time, and the fucker was always snarfing her bananas. Once this new business contract was drawn up, she’d have to re-evaluate.

But not tonight. Tonight was date night and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to enjoy herself. They only had one night off every two weeks, it was the only thing keeping them sane. Maybe the only thing keeping them together.

Linda’s mind was busy with these thoughts and more on the drive to the restaurant. It bothered her that Ron didn’t ask if she was okay, but it didn’t surprise her. He rarely asked how she was feeling these days. He just assumed all was well.

What did surprise her, though, was the sight of the restaurant coming and going. She turned in her seat, looked out of the window at the shrinking white lights. Looking back at Ron, she took a breath to ask him if he was sleeping with his eyes open, but when she saw his mouth twitching into a poorly concealed smile she floundered.

How long had it been since she last saw her husband looking…mischievous? The smile he was fighting was his naughty smile or she was a monkey’s uncle. That smile did something to Linda. Something low down in her groin. The sudden heat in her cheeks compelled her to fan her face with her hands. It did nothing to cool her, so she flicked on the air-con.

Ron Looked at over at her then. Confused, Linda watched him attempt to wink, then chew his lip to try to get his grin under control. What the bloody blue fuck was he up to? He was only ever this flirty when…well, when he was talking to anyone but her.

Twenty minutes later, Ron pulled the car to a stop in front of a familiar building. A squat little bungalow that she’d told him to flog at the first opportunity. That was almost a year ago. Why did he still have it, and why had he brought her here?

Curiosity made her follow him up the weedy path and into the rundown property. It was dark inside. So dark, she couldn’t see her hand when she held it up in front of her face. A couple of steps over the threshold, she was stunned when Ron leant in. His lips grazed hers ever so briefly and she held her breath when he mumbled something about lighting some candles.

Linda hated this place. Once upon a time, Ron’s granny had lived here and she hadn’t been an advocate of their marriage. Last time Linda had been here there’d been a kettle whistling on the hob and a bunch of hens clucking in and out of the back door. Insults had whipped through the air, accompanied by flying doilies and garibaldi biscuits, and Linda had walked out, vowing never to return.

So why had Ron brought her here? Yeah, the place was his now, but it had once been the home of a dirty rotten jiber, so it made no sense that he’d want to spend date night here. She was supposed to be sipping champagne in five Michelin star luxe, but instead she was in a poky old one floorer, probably being cursed by Ron’s old nan. She could just imagine it. Knit one, purl one, give Linda a sly poke with a needle.

Still in the dark, Linda pouted. She wanted to leave, the place was giving her a queer feeling in her belly. Maybe they could go to the ice rink, or perhaps…

Ron struck a match and after a few seconds, Linda’s eyes adjusted to the light from half a dozen flickering candles. She gasped at the sight that greeted her. Ron was walking towards her, completely naked, taking a deep swig from a bottle of bubbly.

Immediately, Linda began to sweat. She just watched him walking here and there, thumbing the petals of the roses un the half dozen vases he’d placed around the sides of the room. Weighing his heavy cock in his hand before talking another hit from the bottle.

The more she watched, the more her clothes stuck to her damp skin. She couldn’t deny that this was a turn on. A big turn on, in fact. So big, she couldn’t even bring herself to be mad that he hadn’t severed all ties with this place. So much negativity had always surrounded the bungalow, but this felt like they were taking it back.

As Ron strolled past her he tapped her on the arm. “Tag, you’re it,” he said.

“Umm, I’m what?”

Linda blushed at the croakiness of her voice. Somehow, no matter how angry he made her or how indifferent he behaved, he always managed to reduce her to a quivering mess by the simple act of removing his clothes.

“It’s your turn to take your clothes off. Don’t worry, though, I’m not going to make you chase me. You caught me fair and square years ago.”

She’d been wrong earlier. It wasn’t date night that kept them together, it was this. Ron and his bizarre romanticism. And his hefty cock. That helped, too.

Would their union be slow and sweet? Or would it be fast and nasty? Would he bend her over the old girl’s antique sideboard, or would he push her to her knees and force that big dick down her throat? Whatever he decided to do, Linda was game.

Once she was wearing nothing but black stockings and her wedding ring, Ron took her hand. He coaxed her to the floor and she eagerly opened her mouth, licking her lips in anticipation of a feast. But Ron tapped her chin with his fingers and shook his head.

“Lean back against the sideboard and open your legs,” he instructed. “I won’t be a minute.”

Lounging there alone, Linda felt the cool air of the room chilling the wetness of her exposed pussy. She stroked it a little, shivering when her fingers brushed her clit, tensing her ass cheeks as they slid effortlessly inside of her. Getting herself ready for Ron’s dick was a must, she could barely take him in unless she was so aroused she couldn’t think. He particularly long but he was thick. On time, they’d measured his girth and found it about on par with a bottle of Vino Blanco.

Music drifted from unseen speakers and Linda grinned. Bob Marley and the Wailers. This one was their song, it had been playing the night they met, and they’d danced to it at their wedding reception. Oh, she felt bad about the thoughts she’d been having about him lately. Things might not be easy, but she did love the bog oaf.

Ron returned brandishing a bottle of lube, a box of condoms, and a bowl of fresh, vibrant bananas. Yes. She really did love him.

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