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MeanBone  On a Tuesday afternoon in Lincoln, Nebraska, Henry Doyen and Sally-didn’t catch her last name, cozy-up beneath dim lighting in a back booth that faces a fire exit inside Vega’s Sports Bar ‘n Grill. From behind, whistling, table pounding and cheers assure forty-eight year-old Henry that the Huskers remain in the lead. Caressing the tip of Sally’s bare shoulder, he lowers a half-empty mug of draft to the table then he cups its brim. Sally ogles his grainy and massive paw and she bites her bottom lip. Henry glances at his hand then he studies the gleam in her brown eyes. “What’s so interesting?”

Sally lowers her glass of Long Island Iced Tea to a light-brown, wood table. She pivots toward him. The hem of her light-blue dress moves up and exposes her left knee, which then presses to his blue jeans. “I have a lotion that’s really good for dry skin.” Waves of gold tequila breath break through a haze of lilac perfume, they fill Henry’s nostrils and ease the sting from his eyes. His blurry gaze drops to strapless terrycloth and the narrow line of shade between Sally’s bulky breasts. She cups the side of his head and pets his brown and bristly flattop. “Henry…”

He raises his gaze to her pouting lips. “Hank.” From her shoulder, he glides two fingers beneath her chin where then he draws strands of ginger hair to the back of her neck. “Please.”

She caresses his knee. “Hank?”

“Yes?” He taps her bottom lip. Plump lips part, he slides a finger up through a thin glaze of pink gloss then onto a wet and warm tongue. Sally closes her mouth, she suckles then rears back and giggles. Hank cups her shoulder, he pulls her toward him then presses his forehead to her temple. “Not what you wanted?” She shakes her head and slides her palm up his thigh. He releases the mug then engulfs the soft and slow hand approaching his zipper. “What do you want with that?”

She slides her knee up the red seat, bringing her leg alongside his thigh. Sally leans forward and up, raising her backside two-inches. “I want to take it to my apartment…” Hank’s fingertips race down her spine, they dip then glide between firm cheeks. He cups and caresses a plump muscle, which then lowers to his palm. His fingers spring toward moist heat. “I want to lick it, suck it and get it dripping wet.”

Between his thumb and finger, Hank pinches a thin layer of steaming silk and he strokes short hairs. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Wet as this?”

“Wetter.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Her lips sweep across his. “Fuck my ass.”

Mean Bone

Written by Vonda Norwood

Featuring

Joan Vassal as the Dominatrix

And

Henry Doyen as the Master Gunnery Sergeant

All Right Reserved

CHAPTERS

She wants to lick it, suck it and get it dripping wet

All other women are psychos

Stranger Danger

What Hit Him

The Dominatrix Vs. The Master Gunnery Sergeant

 

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