Mary-Jo Jacked-Up

Jack sat in the leather swivel chair watching sports replays on mute. Sunlight was just starting to flow in through the window above his bed.

He had surprised himself when he call Mary-Jo again. He picked up the phone only five minutes after getting home.

“Hello?” she answered out of breath.

“Mary-Jo, it’s Jack.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jack heard a catch in her breath. He had been so right about her. A conservative Christian he was helping to rebel out of her shell. She would react with disgust if spoken to about the lifestyle Jack had introduced her to, but she was secretly curious and thrilled to be invited on the ride of pleasures he offered.

“I am sending you a plane ticket.” He smiled and waited for the bubble to burst. Her guilt would kick in at some point.

“Yes, sir. I look forward to it.” He heard a smile in her voice.

“I will send details. I hope you have your passport,” were his final words before hanging up the phone.

She did.

Jack kissed her after she arrived at Pearson International and made it through customs. He took her bag and led her through the terminal chatting.

“It’s my first time out of the States,” she gushed. Her hair was tight and curled. She wore a yellow sun dress under a light black jacket. “I knew there would be French signs, but have no idea what else to expect.”

“One advantage you Americans have is that when you go home your customs is on this side of the border. Makes almost all US airports international.”

“There’s no snow, even,” she said looking out at the sun light road through the big window.

Jack turned a glare at her before realizing she was attempting to tease him. “Yes,” he went along with it. “We don’t get too much snow in July. Before I forget, take the jacket off.”

She did as instructed and hung it over her pale bare arm. Her dress was lower cut than the last time he had seen her, this one showed off her ample bosom and gorgeous neck. Her dress swayed with her curves. She had a white purse hung over her left shoulder with knitting needles just visible.

The humidity hit Jack as they exited the terminal. His black tee shirt was tight across his muscled chest. His blue jeans were loose, but tidy looking. He slipped sunglasses on and spoke softly, “It is only 28 degrees, but the humidity here is ridiculous.”


“Oh, that’s Celsius.” He did some quick mental math. “Call it mid eighties in Yankee temps.”

“So where are we going?”

“A lot for you to see here. Have you ever been to Chicago?”

Her eyes squinted as she hunted in her purse for sunglasses. “Yeah.”

“Chicago is a lot like Toronto, just with more architectural character. Did you do any research about what you would like to see?”

She smiled and nodded. “The Maple Leafs don’t play in July, do they?”

He opened the car door for her and refrained from rolling his eyes. “My lady.”

For two days he became a tourist in his own city, leading Mary-Jo around to all the sites from the Royal Ontario Museum, to the CN Tower to the Distillery District. They stayed at the Sheraton Centre on Queen St West just southwest of the Eatons Centre.

A light knock on the door snapped Jack back into the now. He stood and pulled a white bathrobe on his muscled naked body.

At the door was a waiter with a rolling service cart full of breakfast.

Jack signed the tab and pulled the cart in himself with the door clicking shut behind him.

“Good morning,” he said while wheeling the cart past the bed. He smiled at her. Stepping over, he removed her gag. “How did you sleep?”

She grinned and yawned. “Good, I think.” Her naked body stretched on her side facing him, arms behind her back.


“Yes, famished.”

“Good,” he whispered. He knelt on the bed beside her. Opening his robe, his erection was offered to her.

She greedily accepted it in her mouth. The cross dangling from her neck swayed like a pendulum as she sucked on him.

He reached behind her and unbound her wrists.

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