Blackmail and Other Dirty Words
Chapter 23

Copyright© 2006 by John Darkscar

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 23 - A bit of blackmail and revenge doesn't go exactly as expected.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Blackmail   Slow  

Saturday dawned clear and cold. I managed to sleep I until 7, when hydraulic pressure forced me to answer Nature's call. That taken care of, I decided to indulge myself in a home-cooked breakfast.

I put on some clothes and examined the contents of the fridge. A few minutes later I had some sliced potatoes and onions frying in one skillet and bacon frying in another. While that was cooking I mixed up some biscuit dough and made drop biscuits on a cookie sheet. When the potatoes finished, I rinsed the skillet out and fried some apples. A couple of eggs fried over easy in the bacon fat and breakfast was complete.

I carried the stuff over to the kitchen table and stuffed myself while reading the morning paper. Nothing exciting caught my eye, so I started thinking about what to do for the day. The weather forecast in the paper called for a warming trend through Monday, with highs in the 60's today and high 70's on Sunday and Monday.

I decided that I'd catch up the housework this morning and piddle around the yard this afternoon.

It had been a while since I'd really given the place a going over, so I burned off the breakfast calories scrubbing the bathtub and toilet, mopping the bathroom and kitchen floors, vacuuming and dusting, polishing the furniture, using glass cleaner on the mirrors and disinfecting the kitchen counters. The stovetop got cleaned and I was willing to do the oven, but it was clean enough to go on with.

Periodically I went to the basement to change loads in the washer and dryer. When I was done, the only stuff not washed were the clothes on my back. Even the bed linens were washed. I finished the cleaning in time for lunch. I fixed a couple of sandwiches and some tea and relaxed. I'm not exactly a neat freak, but it was nice to see things sparkle.

After I finished lunch and washed the plate I'd put the sandwiches on, I went in the office and dug out my old dog-eared copy of "The Complete Paddler". I'd read it so many times I had many sections of it committed to memory. For my money, it's still the single best one-volume book on canoe expeditions ever, even though it's become somewhat dated over the years. I've never managed to take the kind of trip the authors did, even though I've been to Quebec several times, albeit on the south side of the Saint Lawrence (the Gaspe).

I grabbed a coat and the book and hopped in the truck. I first ran by Dave's store, but he was out. I left the book with Tommy and headed off to the grocery store where I restocked with staples and a few luxuries.

That chore complete, I went back home and spent the rest of the afternoon dinking around the yard. I raked up some late falling leaves and twigs and mulched them up with the lawn mower. I rearranged some of the mulch around the roses to make sure the bud unions were protected, and I blew out the walk and drive with a leaf blower.

It felt kind of good to be out doing some physical labor after so much time in the office. When I went back inside I had a bit of sun on my face and neck, and a pleasant sense of accomplishment.

After a long hot shower, I dug a steak out of the fridge and stuck it under the broiler. I sautéed some onions, sweet peppers and mushrooms in butter and a dash of burgundy and put a large potato into the microwave to bake.

Dessert was a slab of blueberry cheesecake I'd picked up at the deli in the grocery store, washed down with mass quantities of iced tea.

I polished off the dessert and washed and stacked the dishes in the drainer, feeling vaguely like I imagined a boa constrictor might, after having swallowed a small pig.

I poured myself another glass of iced tea and logged onto the Internet. I checked my personal email and answered a couple. The rest were mostly comics or jokes from friends. The junk mail folder was crammed full of crap from people that apparently thought I was a small-breasted, small-penised, badly wrinkled person, with acne and erectile dysfunction, who was willing (for a cut) to help people get money that had belonged to high government officials who died tragically out of certain African countries.

After clearing those out, I read a number of blogs I liked, leaving comments on a couple. I also checked some of the newer offerings on the Gutenberg Project and was pleasantly surprised to find a few classic science fiction novels, several of which I downloaded for later reading.

Tiring of this wild excitement, I logged off and watched "The Gallant Hours". I thought I'd remembered it thoroughly, but I found that I'd forgotten a remarkable amount. I made a mental note to dig out "Touched with Fire", by Eric Bergerud and re-familiarize myself with that campaign.

A jaw-cracking yawn made me realize that I was ready for bed. I took a little longer to go to sleep this evening, but I eventually made it. My last coherent thought was imagining myself drifting along in a canoe enjoying a soft summer day. I must have been tireder than I thought, since I slept until nearly nine-thirty.

Sunday was a warmer copy of Saturday. I took the opportunity to walk down to the Center Diner and have breakfast. A three egg Western omelet with buttermilk biscuits and lots of good, hot fresh coffee got me up and running. Sunday mornings were slow there, and I had plenty of time to read the community copy of the Sunday paper. As usual, it was lots of paper, not much news.

I dawdled around over a last cup of coffee until hydraulic pressure forced me to make a trip to the Men's room. I returned the coffee and paid my tab on the way out.

It was a gloriously beautiful day and I took my time walking home to enjoy it. The trees were pretty well leafless by this time of the year, and the yards were on the last gasp of being green, but the sky was a gorgeous blue and light breeze was soft and warm on the face.

I'd pretty well done everything I'd set out to do yesterday and I was at a bit of loose ends for the afternoon. I decided to clean out the truck and wash it.

I dragged the hose around front and filled my bucket with soapy water and attacked the accumulated salt and grime with the car mop. Surprisingly, there was a red truck under the gray layer of salt. I also washed the floor mats and vacuumed the interior.

 
There is more of this chapter...
The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.