TintoSelvaggio
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Chapter 3 - Dirty Houseguest
🕑 Added 2024-08-23 23:00:05 +0000 UTC
DENNIS TALBOT
There’s no fucking way he should’ve been given the role of Prince Edward. It should have been mine. I glare out from the side of the stage at Paul Bailey. Arms spread wide out there like some giant stick insect version of ET. Bellowing the finale of our ‘Slipper and the Rose’ production.
I peer in the other direction, shield my eyes from the stage lights, and try to focus on a face or two in the audience. But it’s hard to see anything with the lights pointed at that twat. Well, after tonight he can stay the fuck away from Sophie. He might have been 'Too in the zone’ to talk about anything but his upcoming ‘performance’ in the car on the way here, but he’ll sure as hell listen to me when he gets off stage.
He’s the one who should have had a minor role. Him, not me, playing Major fucking Domo.
I'll show you, Paul bastard Bailey.
I cross my arms and glare at one of the other cast members alongside me. Why’s she looking so adoringly at him?
I shake my head and the movement must catch her eye.
“He’s such a fabulous singer, isn’t he?” she coos.
“Whatever.”
I turn right around and head for the toilets near the dressing room. I should piss in his locker. But I need to sort out my approach with Sophie.
I push open the washroom door and head inside to the white tiles and urinal. I’ve got to nip this Bailey danger in the bud. And get Sophie committed to pooling her resources with mine. The window of opportunity won’t stay open long. I’ve spelled it out to her. No matter what she keeps saying, deep down she must know it’s in her best interests to sell up and move in with me.
She and those two daughters.
I pull out my dick and wait for it to deflate a little. Then I piss.
Huge applause from outside reaches me and makes me want to vomit. But at least it’s over now. As soon as he’s finished basking in the fake admiration I’ll lay it on the line for him.
I finish my piss then zip up and head out to the dressing room.
Bailey is already in there with his ‘Fan club.’
I stand back in the corner, take a few deep breaths to calm my rage, and wait for the praise to die down. And for his admirers to disperse.
Then as he sits at the mirror scraping his makeup off I step out of the shadows toward him.
“You were great too Den,” he says to my reflection before I can speak.
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“Sometimes the less prominent roles are the most difficult to pull off with any success,” he says to his reflection and then studies his profile.
Patronizing bastard.
“Need a word with you about Sophie,” I say.
“Oh Den, old chum, can’t that wait until we’re riding back? I’m still on cloud nine after the show.”
That’s another thing too. Why doesn’t get a car of his own?
I’ll tell you why. Because with yours truly here to chauffeur him back and forth to every drama lesson and every performance like a complete fool, he doesn't fucking need a motor of his own, does he?
I take deep breath and focus on the advantage of Bailey not having a car. He can’t offer transport to Sophie. He can't drive her to the shops or anywhere else when she needs to go out.
I bite my lip and hold my tongue. OK, I will bide my time until he’s had a beer to ‘take the edge of’ his ‘adrenalin rush’. But as soon as we’re in the car on the way back he’s getting both barrels.
“Now we need to talk about Sophie,” I say before I even start the engine. I give him the side eyes. “She’d prefer you not to go around to see her anymore.”
“She hasn’t said anything like that to me,” he says and glances across at me.
“That’s why I’m telling you now,” I say and start the car.
“Did she ask you to speak to me about this?”
“She sure did,” I lie and pull out of the parking spot behind the theatre.
“Hmm,” he says, and doesn’t look like he believes me. “I should speak to her myself.”
“What for?” I say and my voice screeches on the second word and it stays loud, “I’ve told you what she wants.”
Bailey’s dyed eyebrows arch and he leans away from me.
“I mean why are you insisting on going against her wishes?” I clear my throat. “You know how upset she’s been about her husband.”
“Which is why I’d like to hear it from Sophie herself,” he says, “Grief can be an insidious influence on a person’s thinking. If Sophie has concerns about my intentions then I want to reassure her.”
Your ‘intentions’? You’re not acting in some re-make of Madam fucking Bovary, Bailey.
“Me and her are trying to work things out together,” I say and try to act patient. With this slimy bastard, persuasion might be better than threats or confrontation.
“I understand that Den old chum, but I think that at a time like this, after losing Harold, the lady needs all the friends she can get.”
It’s fucking ‘Harry!’ ‘Harry’ not Harold. I grip the wheel tight.
“Come on now Den, you and I both know she’s a very glamorous younger lady,” a smile creeps over his smarmy face, “And now that she’s unattached…all’s fair in love and..”
“We’re planning on moving in together,” I say quickly although I didn’t want him to know. I don’t want him trying to put her off before she’s fully committed.
“You are?” he says and those ridiculous eyebrows arch again, “I didn’t realize that,” he says the last word slowly. “Sophie never said anything.”
“Well, she wouldn’t would she?” I say and hurtle past a wagon. “Sophie’s a private person.”
I should stand on the brakes and bounce his head off the fucking dashboard.
“Do we have to do it in the bedroom, Dennis?” Sophie asks on her landing a couple of hours later. She’s finally agreed to put that slutty black lingerie on for me.
“But I love your room,” I say, and my hard-on throbs in my pajamas. I grab her hand. I just wish she’d put some more eyeliner and rouge on for me too though. “Doing it in there shows me you care about me, the way I care about you.”
“You know I do,” she sighs, “You’ve helped me so much. Sorting through all the papers and the endless form filling after Harry,” she looks right at me and shrugs her shoulders, “I never hear from Philip any more, and my son-in-law is always so busy with his job.”
Busy with that filthy eldest daughter of yours, more like.
“Don’t talk about that Phil guy,” I say and make my face emphasize hurt, “You know I get jealous of you.”
“Mmm, and I like that about you,” she smiles and moves closer. Her fingertips stroke my vest and chest. “You’ve done so much for me, Dennis.”
“And I want to do a lot more,” I say and squeeze her tits through the mesh lingerie. “Come on, let’s get in there.”
Sophie sighs but she leads me into her bedroom.
“I want this tonight,” I slap her big behind before she reaches the bed.
“You’re a wild animal, Dennis,” she laughs.
“For you I am, yes.”
And in a dream role, for young Lanie too.
Sophie climbs up onto the bed on all fours and reaches down between her thighs, popping open the gusset of her body stocking.
I stand back and watch her lean down onto her elbows with her backside in the air.
“Hell, yeah,” I groan and pull out my stiffy.
I stroke and peer down at the open lingerie flaps hanging below the crease of her pale behind.
Sophie reaches up and across to her nightstand. She picks up the small, gold-framed photo of her and Harry and places it face down.
“Spread your cheeks for me,” I tell her and work my cock through my fist.
“You sure I’m not too old for underwear like this?” She asks with her face in her bedding and her fingers spread on both buttocks.
Fishing for compliments again.
“No way,” I shake my head, “You’re doing it for me, and that’s the truth,” I bend at the knee and pull her left buttock a little more to one side, exposing the knot of her anus. I spit on the head of my dick and work it against her opening there.
“Uhh,” she grunts into the bed.
The elastic of her hole accepts the tip of my cock so I grip the outsides of her hips with both hands and start to ease inside her. All the years I was married and I never got near one of these at all. And Sophie’s never been painfully tight here either. I guess Harry or that Phil guy used her this way too. I’ll make her tell me one day.
“Uh, oh Dennis,” she gasps.
“You should get rid of all those old photos,” I say about Harry and push further in.
“Uhh,” her head rises from the bed.
“It’d help you move on,” I say and shove her head back down.
“I can't,” she gasps into the bedsheets and pushes her backside at me, “not yet.”
“Before we get married though,” I grunt and push hard into her.
“Uhh, ah, ah, we can’t get married without living together first,” she groans, "without making sure."
“You know it’ll work,” I grunt and grip her hips hard, “I think the world of you. You’re a special woman. Uhh, yeah. Neither of us is getting any younger, Sophie. We’ve got to seize the day.”
“Uh, uh, I just need more time.”
“You don’t want your house repossessed though, do you?” I slap into her, reach forward and underneath her chest, and squeeze her big tits through the mesh.
“Uhh, ahh, no.”
“It’s stupid living next door to each other, uhh, yeah, when you’ve got money worries, ah, ah, when we could pool our resources.”
“Mmm, uhh, uhhn.”
“Sell this house. We could go away on a cruise. The holiday of a lifetime.”
“Uhh, spank me Dennis,” her backside smacks back at me, “Not too loud. Don’t want to wake the little one.”
I slap a hand down hard on her big white cheeks.
Same weaknesses for a firm hand as Rachel. I can’t help smiling behind her back.
And I can’t help wondering whether the middle daughter, that little prick teaser Lanie would enjoy this treatment too. Yeah. I slap Sophie again, and she squeals into the bedding. Her fingers claw the sheets. I push as far as I can, deep into her ass, crush my balls against her crease.
“Don’t want you letting Paul Bailey in here again,” I slap her a third time.
“Ow! Uh, why? Why not?”
“He’s not to be trusted.”
“Oooh, oh, ooh, Mmm, he always seems so nice though, Dennis, ohh.”
“Ahh, I’ve known him longer than you. I see him every week. Tries to take advantage of people. Ahh, especially women.”
“Uhh, he offered to help me out. If I need money,” she groans into the bed.
I bet he fucking did. Rage inflames me and I whack a hand down on her upturned cheeks. Twice.
She squeals so loud I clamp a hand over her mouth.
So much for keeping the noise down.
And that last smack left a big pink handprint.
I grip her hips again with both hands and pummel her big, wobbling behind, I thump into her “It’s what that bastard would expect you to do for the money that you should worry about.”
Her hands claw at her own buttocks again, like she’s trying to spread them further apart, even as I grip her hips. I slap around her arms and wrists, repeatedly, right cheek then left, make her cry out into the bed, but then the pleasure overtakes me. I ejaculate hard.
I wake up sometime later under the covers in Sophie’s bed. I’ve got to pee. This happens most nights these days. The curtains are open a little and moonlight streams into the room. Next to me, Sophie sleeps with a dark eye mask on her face.
I pull back the covers and head out of the room in my pajamas.
On the landing, I close Sophie’s bedroom door as softly as possible. I creep quietly past the youngest daughter’s room in case I wake her.
In the bathroom, I don’t bother to lock the door. There’s little point hunting through the wash basket in here tonight. I know Sophie did a full wash because Lanie's away overnight. There’ll be none of her daughter’s dirty clothes in the basket.
I piss and then open the mirrored cabinet above the basin.
Different kinds of tablets, including Compoz ‘Nighttime sleep aid’. I doubt Sophie needed any of those after the pounding I gave her before. I smile at the mirror. Condoms at the back of the cabinet though too. Dirty bitch. But they could be Lanie’s. Same as the tampons too.
But a young girl like her? I reckon she’d keep stuff like that in her own room.
I peer back at the door. Be stupid not to take the opportunity of poking around a little in there too while she’s away.
I close the mirrored cupboard door and slip out onto the landing. I glance over at Sophie’s door to make sure there’s no light seeping from under the door to indicate she’s woken. Then I head for the third bedroom.
I push the door open over the carpet.
Thick carpet. Like a new one. Perhaps the girl wanted to put her stamp on the room after she took it over from her big sister. I close the door behind me. If somehow Sophie was to wake and find me in here I’d act shocked. Disorientated. I’d tell her I must have been half asleep coming back from the bathroom. That I wandered into the wrong room.
The curtains are open but there’s way less chance of being seen by anyone here at the back of the house so I click on the bedside lamp. On second thoughts. I pull the curtains across anyhow.
I run a hand across the top of the bedding and my heart pounds. Mmm. Could be the same double bed Rachel used to sleep in by the look of it.
But gone are the pink soft furnishings. This Machin sister has less girlie tastes. Purple and black. Silky. I lean over the bed and pull the covers back. I inhale the pillow. Smells fresh. Too fresh for my liking.
I crouch and do the same with the bed itself. But it too smells of washing powder. Detergent or whatever. I reckon Sophie took the opportunity to change the sheets too while her daughter isn't here.
Just my luck.
I peer all around. The room’s a lot tidier too than when Rachel had it. But Sophie might have straightened it for her tonight after she went out.
I get right down on the floor even though it's not easy for my knees. I want to check for any discarded dirty underwear under the bed.
Looks all clear here too though. Shit. And this is unlike her big sister as well. Unless Sophie tidied under here too of course.
I need to get my timings right about Sophie doing the washing in the future. There'll be plenty of other opportunities though.
I stand up and cross the room to her dresser then open the top drawer.
Bras.
I rifle through them and pull out a black lace one. Mmm. Underwired. Nice. And almost as big as Sophie’s. I hold a cup to my nose and mouth and inhale.
Too fresh again.
I peer back at the door and then open the second drawer down.
Her knickers. My dick thickens.
I pick out one skimpy red pair and sniff the gusset.
Nothing. Then and second and third. All fresh.
But clean or not, they’ve all rested tight against her little cunt and that firm rear of hers at some point. That body she flaunts in their back garden. Mmm, Melanie Machin you little minx.
For now, I tuck a pair under the waistband of my pajama bottoms. She won’t miss one pair.
Wait. What about her hair brushes?
Three or four of them stick out of an upright container and I pick out the one that has most hairs entwined around the bristles. I smell the brush.
“Mmm,” I murmur out loud at her familiar perfume and my dick turns to iron. I kiss the strands of golden brown hair and rotate the brush in my hand. Then I push my tongue down beyond them, to lick the stem of the brush.
A little salty, but the smell of her perfume is mixed with her musk too.
I rub the front of my pants. I take the hairbrush over to her wardrobe with me and then glancing back at the bedroom door again, I slide open the girl’s wardrobe door.
She keeps her shoes in the same place Rachel did. At the base of her wardrobe.
I pick out the small, left shoe of a pair of black, shiny, and strappy high heels. I run my tongue along the instep.
These must be new. Just tastes of leather.
I tug the knickers out from under my waistband and pull them over my head. I adjust her gusset so it rests over my nose, but away from my mouth. “Mmm, Melanie.”
Such a pity it’s so fresh.
With one hand I hold the hairbrush close to my mouth too and lick it, over and over. I pull out my dick and slide it into her shoe, slowly jerk myself with it.
“Oh, yeah.”
But I can’t relax. Don’t want to risk making a mess in here. Not with everything so finely balanced between me and Sophie.
Hurriedly, I put the shoe and brush away. The knickers can come home with me when I go.
I turn out the light, open the curtains, and head back to Sophie.
Still asleep.
I stash Lanie’s underwear in the pocket of my cords then climb into bed. Gently, I push Sophie’s shoulder and kiss around her ear. Her shoulder. My dick is still rock hard, “Sophie? You awake?” I nudge her side with my stiffy.
“Oh,” Sophie murmurs and turns to face me, “Again? Dennis, you’re terrible,” she smiles and takes my tool with both hands.
Author's Notes
Dennis Talbot has always been one of my most devisive characters. Some readers despise him, but many can't look away from his antics. Which side do you fall on, and how you see his relationship with Sophie and her family developing? What do you hope happens next to him? (One reader at least is still hoping he gets hit by a bus!)
Next week, in Chapter 4, Richmond Coyle makes his first appearance. With Kevin and Evie.
© 2024 Tinto Selvaggio. All rights reserved.
All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are consenting adults eighteen years of age or older. As a work of fiction, any similarities to any situations or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.
Comments
Tinto
I'm glad you appreciate Talbot too Chuck. He is sinister, you're right. So I do appreciate why some detest him. I have to say though, I really enjoy writing the guy so I'm not sure what that says about me!
Chuck
Definitely keep him, he makes me sick thinking he is screwing any of them. He adds the sinister character. Yes you do hope he gets hit by the bus, this type of character that never happens to them.
Tinto
Yes, Talbot was originally introduced to give that 'extra dimension' you mention but he certainly divides opinion. I can see from other comments though too that I'm not the only one who quite enjoys him - even as he apalls me. I can't imagine him getting anywhere near Lanie to be honest, but I can picture what might happen if he were ever caught red-handed in her room. And I can't be the only one thinking that Sophie could do so much better (for herself and her family) than settling for him. But I guess Talbot is nothing if not resiliant.
max2502
Definitely keep the Talbot character. Love the extra dimension and how you make him work. We just never know what he is going to do next!
