Honey Does (3 page)

Despite her disenchantment with the pump—and the irritated, still warm sensation in her labia—Honey’s curiosity rose. A freebie…. She left the box on the floor and returned to the counter where she unzipped the bag and dumped the contents into her palm.

Oh, shit no.
She held either her worst nightmare or the answer to her prayers. Shifting from foot to foot as her still-puffy lips made their presence known, Honey closed her fist around what her research taught her was a butt plug. Made of blue plastic, a few inches long and with a teardrop shape, the device narrowed to a blunted top, then narrowed to flare again into a wide flange at the bottom with a finger grip. A beginner’s model, so made to prevent nasty accidents where things disappeared inside a person.

Her research on Sodom&Gomorrah.com left her quite knowledgeable about the devices, although she’d rejected the idea of buying one. Still…with the pussy pump out of the question for the evening, desperation ruled her mind. Mack wanted to try anal play. He’d said so more than once, although he’d never pushed the issue.

Maybe trying out the shiny blue toy would help her adjust to the idea. Not very big. Not much larger than his thumb. And he would be so pleased.

The S&G product page had been quite clear about the need for lube in any kind of anal play, but another search of the box showed no sign of any helpful tubes or jars. Honey glanced at the clock. She still had at least an hour before Mack returned home. The poor man had been pulling overtime every day for two weeks. She had plenty of time to run to the drug store for lube and still go to grocery store for something special for his dinner.

Feeling like wife of the year, Honey started for the bedroom to dress. She winced when a sudden movement rubbed her pussy lips together. Still swollen—but how long could it last? Did her reaction compare to a man’s erection? If so, as her arousal wore off, so would the swelling. Of course, the man’s cock had not been subjected to a vacuum device…but wouldn’t the principle be the same?

She trailed a finger over her labia and jumped. So sensitive. Her eyes drifting closed, she rubbed some more, pausing to circle her clit for good measure. If it would reduce the puffiness, perhaps an orgasm was a good idea. Adding a second finger, she glided back and forth, amazed at her wetness.
So good.

Mack couldn’t mind her doing this, for the sake of being able to leave the house…could he?

She leaned against the dresser, speeding up her motions, picturing Mack on his knees between her legs. When they had time, he had the tongue of a god, lapping at her pussy with untiring enthusiasm until she spilled her juices in orgasm. Then he licked on, nibbling at the sensitive clit, sliding fingers inside her like…
yes, ohhh
.

Mmmm.
Honey held the image in her mind, remembering how he would wrap his arms around her, hold her tight so she couldn’t wriggle away when she became too sensitive. He parted her lips and sucked her clit into his mouth, working it there…

Oh, Mack!
Her knees buckled, and she fell into a crouch with the power of her orgasm. Even in her imagination, only her husband could drive her to those heights. Chills chased over her skin.

Whew. What would it be like when Mack got home? Maybe she could use the pump with him sometime, but not today. Because her post-orgasmic labia were no smaller than the pre-orgasmic version. How long could they stay in their current state?

For the moment, she did not think she could bear anything against her skin. A long, wraparound denim skirt should conceal her commando status and avoid any embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions. Feeling odd, she pulled her white lacey bra from the drawer and left the matching panties behind. Honey ran a comb through her hair and dashed out to the car before she could worry about it any more. In buying lube, she made a decision.

Anal sex loomed in her future…her very near future.

Three

The domestic abuse situation turned out to be less difficult than it could have been but it did take up most of the day and require a great deal of paperwork. As happened more and more often, he and Sandy had to call another car so the battling spouses could be transported separately to jail to cool off. The new chief had a zero tolerance policy for physical violence and not one but two parties sported black eyes. Mack pictured the wide blue eyes of his own wife and couldn’t imagine putting a fist in them.

When they realized they were to be arrested, the combatants changed tactics and swore they had each walked into a wall, but their previous litany of complaints belied their new claims. Perhaps a night in jail would teach them manners or at least not to leave obvious marks.

By the time the arrest was completed and the last report filed, Mack was starving, lunchtime long past.

“Let’s grab a hot dog, Sandy. My treat.”

“Sounds good, as long as you don’t want to continue the conversation we started earlier.” Sandy flashed him a grin and punched him in the shoulder, taking some of the sting out of her comments. “Seriously, I’m sure your wife feels she scored in her choice of spouse. As well she should. You’re a catch, my friend.”

“You always make me feel better. I’ll even spring for sauerkraut.”

“What a prince. You know I hate the stuff.”

But Mack didn’t and the hot dog cart in the park across the street even had Michigan sauce, that beanless chili topping so dear to his New York roots. Honey would have a fit if she witnessed what he was about to eat. The veggie wrap and apple she’d made him would go uneaten. His mouth watered at the thought of the treat awaiting him and he shoved the guilt aside.
Forgive me, baby. Sometimes a man’s got to eat what a man’s got to eat.

~ * ~

When Honey left the drugstore, she didn’t dare try for a stop at the market. She’d never been so aware of her pussy before, never been in such pleasurable discomfort. She wasn’t sure whether she was about to come or come apart.

With home only a few blocks away, she floored the gas pedal. Shifting in her seat, clutching the steering wheel with both hands, Honey thought she’d lose her mind. She no longer cared what might happen to her as long as the throbbing stopped. Somewhere on the Internet, perhaps on the S&G site itself, there had to be a solution to her problem. A very different issue than she’d begun the day with. Why hadn’t she realized how good she had it before she puffed her pussy up like a balloon?

Mack would laugh his ass off when he learned of her attempts to seduce him. So distracted by her thoughts, she sailed through a stop sign, not noticing until it was too late to react. The siren piercing her musings pushed her over the edge and she burst into tears, still fidgeting.

“License and registration, please, ma’am.”

Oh no.
Honey sniffed back her sobs and reached into the glove box for the registration then dug in her purse. As she pulled out the documents, the drugstore bag fell to the floor and the tube of lube rolled into view. She broke into a sweat. A cop’s wife did not want to commit a crime, no matter how small. Mack had to report any infractions by his immediate family to his superior officer within twenty-four hours. Way to plan a romantic evening.

Beads of sweat trickled between her legs, further irritating her swollen tissues. She rubbed against the seat, trying for subtlety and failing.

“Ma’am, is something wrong?” The officer leaned into the car and raised a brow. “I’m afraid I have to ask you to step out of the car.”

Honey cringed. She never felt more naked than when fully dressed sans panties. “Are you sure that’s necessary, officer? I realize I ran a stop sign, and I am so sorry. I promise to be careful in the future.” More salty droplets; she’d never noticed sweat in her girly parts before. Why now? Maybe because they were so big, catching everything like a rain gutter. When would the damn things shrink back to normal?

With their small local police force, although Honey had not met—she scanned his badge—Officer Baxter, Mack would know him. She might be able to talk him out of the ticket, but not without dropping her husband’s name, and Mack would be embarrassed enough telling the chief. If this officer was a bigmouth and he realized her identity, Mack would be humiliated.

Thank heavens she’d kept her maiden name for work reasons. She’d take her medicine and make the best of it. Slipping from behind the steering wheel, Honey faced the tall, thin uniformed cop. Her pussy throbbed so hard with the motion, she feared it showed through the long, denim skirt. Smoothing the front, she checked the knot at her waist. Why she’d chosen a wraparound with no panties…

“Face the car, please.”

She held her ground, resisting. “Can you tell me why?”

“You’re intoxicated, and I am going to pat you down and arrest you.”

Stars blanketed the blackness in front of Honey’s eyes. “I’m not drunk. What gave you that idea?”
This gets worse and worse.

“You can’t even stand still. If you’re not drunk, or under the influence of some controlled substance, what’s wrong with you?”

I’m either an irresponsible drinker, about to lose my license, or….what? Sorry, Officer Baxter, I’m only a pervert. Is there a cell set aside for horny housewives who made foolish purchases online?

She took the angry road. Facing him, hands on hips, she scowled. “I have not had anything to drink stronger than coffee. I insist on a breathalyzer test.” She hadn’t been married to a cop for over ten years for nothing.

“It’s up to you, but I still have to pat you down before I can put you in the car. Unless you want me to get a woman here to do it?”

He would have to send for Sandy, currently riding around with Mack… “Just get it over with. I have things to do.”

“Keep your pants on. You’re awfully anxious to get this test.” Baxter rummaged in the front seat and came up with a device about the size of a police radio with a plastic tube sticking out of the side. He pushed a series of buttons and stared at the screen. “Damn thing’s on the fritz again. Piece of shit. I don’t know why I even came to work in this Podunk town.”

Between her physical discomfort and the policeman’s odd and maybe even hostile attitude, Honey’s concerns grew. She tried to remember whether Mack had mentioned Officer Baxter but came up with nothing. Not good. Mack only brought home the more positive stories of the department. An issue she’d meant to discuss with him—she wished he’d share the downs as well as the ups.

It would have been helpful to know more now. “Maybe I can walk a straight line or count backward from one hundred by sevens or something?”

“People watch too much TV.” The cop glowered at the device then at her. “I have to take you in, face the car.” He flung the broken breathalyzer into the front seat and grabbed her forearm, fingers digging into her skin. “Now. I don’t have all day.”

Honey yelped and tugged at her arm. “Let go of me.” She’d been concerned about whether he’d find out she had no panties on when he patted her down, but his aggression had her unsure what he might be capable of. “My husband is Mack McGee. Let go of me right now, or you’ll regret it.”

His harsh laugh frightened her even more. “Mack McGee? That wuss? There’s a laugh. He wouldn’t harm a fly. But it would be fun to make him look bad.” He spun her against the fender, the air going out of her lungs in a whoosh, then placed the other hand between her shoulders and frisked her—taking a long time, rubbing his hand over her back and buttocks then up her sides so his fingers reached the edges of her breasts. Humiliated, she fought back the tears stinging her eyes.

“Do you have any weapons on you? Anything I could stab myself on?”

If only.
“I don’t even have any pockets. Where would I put it?”

He reached around to pat down her front, missing the nipples but not by much. His hot breath, reeking of whatever garlicky foul thing he’d had for lunch, moistened her neck. “I don’t know, Mrs. Mack.” He released her back and lay his full weight against her back. “I don’t think pockets are the only thing you don’t have on you. Maybe we could spend a little time together and make this whole ugly problem go away. So your husband isn’t humiliated by a wife in jail for drinking in the afternoon.”

Rage boiled over, and she thrust herself off the car, shoving him away. “If you want to arrest me, I suggest you put me in the back seat of the patrol car now, or I’m leaving.”

He chuckled and grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back until she grunted with pain. Cold steel closed around one wrist then he wrestled her other arm behind her as well and locked the handcuffs in place. As she trembled, he turned her to face him and caressed her cheek. “Maybe this is what you want? I can get the lube from your car and bend you over the back seat…show you how a real man puts it to a slut.”

Honey’s knee shot up before she even thought about it, slamming him right where it would do the most good. “Arrest me or don’t,
Officer
Baxter. But I promise you will regret this.”

Fisting a handful of her hair, he pulled her aside, opened the car door, and shoved her in. “It’s your word against mine, and we in the department look dimly on housewives who drink themselves into a dangerous state then set out to pick up their innocent children from school. Child endangerment. You’re lucky I stopped you before you killed them all.”

She opened her mouth to say—she had no idea what, but the slamming door would have drowned it out anyway. Protesting she was not a housewife would solve nothing. Nor would she tell him her children were at Grandma’s.

“I’m taking you in under suspicion of drunken driving and assaulting a police officer. You have the right to remain silent…”

As the litany droned on, words Honey had heard on TV crime shows but never expected to have addressed to her, hot tears slid down her cheeks. Her arms were pulled tight behind her back, and she wriggled, trying to take some of the painful strain from her shoulders with no success. But the discomfort held nothing compared to the trepidation crawling up her spine at what her well-intentioned actions had led to for Mack.