I Ask Mr. Robinson for Some Advice

When I wake up early for work the next morning, I am surprised to see Sarah is already up and out of bed. I can hear some noises from her and Mr. Robinson in the living room; I guess she is still sore from yesterday and getting more treatment.

Getting into the shower and letting the hot water wash away the sleepiness from my mind and body, I hear Sarah groan loudly in pain. It sounds like it is coming from the bedroom. I guess they moved to the bed so she could lie more comfortably.

“Not so hard, please!” I hear her beg, and she starts sobbing. “It hurts so bad! I can't take any...”

“Stop bitching, Ginger Tits," Mr. Robinson interrupts her. “I am doing this for your own good.” He must be doing some sort of deep tissue massage. I hope it doesn't hurt too bad, but I know it is for her own good.

When I get out of the shower, I still hear her whimpering, but it sounds like Mr. Robinson has transitioned to some percussion massage. I can hear the steady sound of skin-to-skin contact as he tries to work out the muscle soreness. He goes faster and faster until I hear him grunt loudly. I guess he wore himself out.

“I hope he didn't pull a muscle while trying to help Sarah with hers.” I think to myself.

I finish getting ready and head out of the bedroom. Sarah is lying on her stomach in just a lacy black pair of panties. Mr. Robinson is lying on the bed beside her in his loose boxers. He is covered in sweat, his body hair practically matted to his skin. He is breathing heavily like he is trying to catch his breath. I can hear Sarah whimper like she is weeping a little into her pillow.

“You guys ok?” I ask. I am concerned about both of them, between Sarah's muscle issue and Mr. Robinson looking like he might be having a heart attack.

“Yeah, we are both fine; her treatment just takes a lot of energy. I am not as young as I used to be, you know, kiddo.” Mr. Robinson chuckles and quickly changes the subject. What time do you have to leave to catch the bus? You know I cannot stand tardiness.”

"I've got another half hour or so, but can I talk to you about something before I go?” I ask him.

“Sure thing, my boy!” he says jovially. “Just let me and Ginger Tits catch our breath and get cleaned up, and I'll be right there.”

“Why do you keep calling Sarah that?” I ask.

“Oh, it is just an inside joke. She doesn't mind, do you, Ginger Tits?”

He waits just a little bit for her to answer before slapping her hard on her upper thigh. Whimpering louder than before, Sarah shakes her head. It still seems like a nasty nickname, but if she does not mind, I guess I can get used to it.

I leave the room and head to the kitchen to make breakfast. I can hear them talking but cannot make out what they are saying. I figure he is just checking to see if the massages are helping at all.

After a few minutes, Mr. Robinson comes out of the bedroom. In the brief moment before he closed the door, I saw Sarah walking very gingerly to the bathroom. She must be in some really bad pain. I make up my mind to take her to an urgent care clinic if she is not feeling any better when I get off work, regardless of what Mr. Robinson says.

"What do you want to talk about, my boy?” "Mr. Robinson says as he walks towards me. His loose boxers did nothing to hide the movement of his large cock and balls as they bounce up and down with each step. He pours himself a cup of coffee and sits down at the table, spreading his legs far enough that I cannot help but catch a glimpse of his cock and balls.

“Umm, you have a lot of experience with women, right, sir?” I ask hesitantly.

“Yeah, you could say that, kiddo.” Mr. Robinson chuckles, “I have broken quite a few fillies in my day, some you would never believe.”

“Well...” I start, not quite sure what to say. “I am worried that I am not going to be a good lover for Sarah. We are both virgins, but I want to make sure that on our honeymoon that our first time is great for her too.”

“Oh, I would not worry about that, kiddo.” Mr. Robinson says with a slight smile. “I think she has more experience than you think.”

“I doubt it," I protest. “She does not really even masturbate; I mean, she has been acting a little more sexual lately, though.”

Mr. Robinson almost spits out his coffee. “Really?” he sounds surprised and maybe a little angry.

“I mean a little; the other day when I was sick, she started to give me a blow job.” I continue.

Mr. Robinson still looks a little mad, but his voice is calm. "Well, isn't that interesting?"

“And there is a girl at work that I think kind of has a crush on me. Not that I would ever cheat on Sarah, but I am just so confused.”

Mr. Robinson sips his coffee for a moment, thinking, “Well maybe a little practice might do you some good. Maybe you should not count out this girl from work.”

“I could never do that to Sarah, though. She would never understand." I object.

“You know, let me talk to her.” Mr. Robinson offers, "She and I have a pretty close relationship now; I am sure I can make her understand.”

“You really think so?”

"Yes, of course, no worries at all. You better get to work now, kiddo. You know I cannot stand tardiness.” Mr. Robinson says as he gets up from the table.

As I grab my bag and head out the door, Mr. Robinson stops me for a second. "Hey, by the way, I am going to have a friend or two over this afternoon, so if you come home, don't be alarmed.”

“Ok,” I say as I walk out the door. "If it is good with Sarah, it is fine with me.”

"Oh, I do not think she will have much to say.” Mr. Robinson says as I close the door.