Filed to story: The Husband Sitter by Jessa Kane
Mr. Blue
When I wake up the next morning, I’m treated like a queen.
I’m escorted by a maid to the en suite bathroom, where a giant tub of steaming, scented hot water is waiting for me, rose petals floating on the surface. After I’ve soaked for an hour, a smiling masseuse arrives and sets up her table in my room. After some coaxing, I agree to my first ever massage and I am not disappointed. By the time she’s finished, my body is the consistency of gelatin and I’m floating around with a drowsy smile.
I’m just about to dress and go explore the house when another maid enters my room and hands me a note from Mrs. Black.
Dearest, you are truly a wonder. I’ve never felt less anxious on a business trip and Mr. Black is back to the being the man I fell in love with.
I’m light as a feather, all thanks to you.
Alas, I must share you. That was part of the deal. Mrs. Blue is sending a car at five o’clock to bring you to her home. She doesn’t live far and will take exemplary care of you, as will Mr. Blue. From there, you will be going to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Red, so please be sure to pack enough clothing.
Don’t hesitate to call me and ask for anything your heart desires. If it is within my power, you shall have it.
All my love, Mrs. Black
I press my face to the fragrant stationary and inhale her happiness. It travels down my throat and winds in my tummy like bubble gum around a finger. Between the proof that I’ve been helpful and the massage, I could float up to the ceiling if I put my mind to it. On second glance at the letter, my eyes rest on the name Mr. Black. My nipples tighten into beads and delicious warmth gathers between my legs.
Intercourse is how I referred to sex before. After experiencing the physical and emotional roller coaster for myself, I know that word is far too dull and scientific. Sex is fire. Mystery. Animalistic. I like it. A lot.
I’m not sure how I’ve gotten this far in my life without picking up on the emotion of lust in other people. Maybe detecting lust and having it burgeon inside me was the final layer of my gift, lying dormant and waiting for me to become a woman. I’m definitely one now. And I want to have sex again not only to gratify those around me—the wives and husbands who brought me here. No, I want it for myself. Now that I know what to expect, I want to revel in the act next time.
Thinking about how hard Mr. Black thrust into me on the floor of the gymnasium yesterday, I rub agitated palms down my thighs and cross to the window, pulling back the gauzy curtain. Down in the landscaped backyard, Mr. Black paces along the edge of the pool shirtless. A bored Adonis.
He wasn’t bored yesterday. No, he was starved for sexual exertion. And something happened while Mr. Black was nearing his peak yesterday. When his desperation grew, along with his excitement, a new part of my empathy was unlocked. Not only did I feel his energy as if the emotions were my own, I was able to reflect them back like a mirror and drive those urges higher within Mr. Black. Make them louder. I had no idea I was capable of such a thing.
As if sensing my perusal, Mr. Black head lifts and we make blistering eye contact through the window. Heat thrums in my belly. If I went downstairs now, would Mr. Black use my body for his afternoon relief on one of the many lounge chairs?
No. No, I can sense his resoluteness from here. It heightens my own. We both plan to be faithful to Mrs. Black, and that means waiting for permission. I’ll never approach him unless I’ve been given leave to do so. Her trust is more important to me than my awakened needs.
I turn away from the window and pack a few outfits in my suitcase, leaving my remaining clothes behind. Twenty minutes later, I leave the room and go downstairs. A maid waits for me at the front door with a polite smile to escort me outside to the waiting black limousine that idles in the driveway. I’ve never seen one up close and I don’t expect the luxury when I climb inside. The cool, smooth leather feels so divine against the bare backs of my thighs, I stretch out on the seat and rub every inch of my exposed skin on it, purring in my throat.
It takes no time at all to reach Mrs. Blue’s house, and while I wish I had more time inside the limousine, I’m eager to find out what awaits me. The house is different in style from Mrs. Black’s. The Blue residence is extremely modern. The hedges are meticulously trimmed in various shapes, surrounded by rock gardens. Black granite steps lead to a door of fogged glass, which opens as I approach.
“Hello, Astrid,” Mrs. Blue says, sweeping forward and wrapping me in a hug. Today she’s wearing a bright red head wrap and a loose, black, ankle-length dress. She smells so incredible and her energy is so clean when she hugs me, I can do nothing but snuggle close and inhale. “I’m so glad you’re here early. The longer I waited, the more nervous I started to get.”
“That I wouldn’t come?”
“Oh, I knew you would come.” She steps back and looks me over with appreciation. “I’m just a little jittery now that the time has come.”
I reach inside myself for calm. Remembering how I was able to project emotions into Mr. Black yesterday, I attempt the same now, pushing my calm into Mrs. Blue and watch her eyelids flutter, her shoulders sag.
“My goodness,” she breathes. “Are you doing that?”
“Yes. I didn’t know I could until yesterday.”
She takes my hand and leads me inside, her attention still locked on me. “That’s quite a gift, Astrid. We’re so lucky we found you.” We enter the foyer and turn left, moving into a brightly lit kitchen and dining area, complete with water streaming down the wall and a floor-to-ceiling fish tank. “Mr. Blue will be down in a moment. We’ve spoken about what’s going to happen today. We’ve been speaking about it for weeks, in fact,” she says on a laugh. “I was hoping to give you a better understanding of…my hopes and expectations, if that’s okay.”
This woman is so genuine. Even on the compound it was rare to find someone with such a lack of guile, and I’m as relaxed in her presence as I was during the massage this morning. “I would love that.”
She nods. “Watching my husband with another woman has been a dark, secret fantasy of mine for a long time and I’ve reached a place in my life where I’m confident enough to embrace what I want without fear or shame.” A beat passes. “This isn’t just for me, though. Mr. Blue is a formal NFL player, you see. A very successful one—you might even recognize him.”
“We didn’t have television where I grew up,” I say.
“I see.” She pats my hand. “Well, he’s quite well known, and in his glory days, he was showered in attention and accolades. He’s my best friend and we have a wonderful marriage, but it’s very hard for an athlete of his caliber to go from the spotlight to a quiet life. All the fans and cheers fade away. I’m hoping…well, I wonder if someone like you might be able to give him a boost in that department.”
The blood in my veins pumps with purpose. “I can try.”
“Excellent,” she responds, pulling me in for a quick squeeze. “Now, don’t be alarmed if the next time you see me, I’m an angry, jealous wife. That’s going to be part of the fun, isn’t it?’
Her excitement is infectious, and I find myself laughing as she shoulders her purse and starts to leave the kitchen.
“Oh, Astrid. I almost forgot.” She points to a hallway just off the dining area. “The bathroom is the second door on your right. I’ve left you something to wear.”
With that, Mrs. Blue leaves the kitchen, the front door of the house closing a moment later. I turn in a circle to absorb the nature theme of the kitchen, before venturing down the hallway. Inside the bathroom, I find an outfit on the counter, but I’ve never seen anything like it. A very short, pleated white skirt and a tight, matching top that says Falcons across the breasts. With a shrug, I take off my clothes and don the outfit, finger comb my hair and leave the bathroom.
Mr. Blue is inside the kitchen when I return, and I glide to a stop, my breath catching at the sheer size of him. Oh my God. He’s at least six foot nine. His shoulders are the width of the refrigerator he stands in front of. Like Mrs. Blue, his skin is a very deep brown, offsetting the gray hair silvering his temples.
Tension creeps into those humungous shoulders and he turns, running inscrutable eyes over me and letting the fridge ease shut. “Damn.” He runs a hand down his face. “A cheerleader, huh? That woman knows me too well.”
I want to question him about cheerleaders, but I’m too struck by his steady, comforting energy. Only good things to come with this man, the universe seems to whisper. And it’s not only his reassuring demeanor that calls me closer, it’s his ruggedness. His thick thighs and chest. I’m attracted to him. Very much so. There’s a kitchen island separating us, but my body is already responding to his rich scent, my fingers already itch to touch him. Because I want to, because Mrs. Blue needs it to happen…and finally because Mr. Blue is also interested in my appearance. It’s there in the way he swallows audibly, his body turning to face me—warily—as I approach.
“I’m Astrid,” I say, running my finger along the marble island and eliminating the space that separates us. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He blows out a breath. “Likewise.”
I tilt my head. “You’re nervous.”
Mr. Blue nods. “I haven’t been with anyone but my wife in thirty years. She told me I’ve got a free pass and shit, I sure didn’t expect…a sweet, young thing like you. Touching anyone but her feels unnatural, though.”
Finally reaching him, I run my palms up his barrel chest, then trail my nails back down over his nipples, instinct telling me he’ll like it. My gamble proves correct when an arrow of lust sails from Mr. Blue and lands square in my belly.
“Oh, goddamn,” he says on a shudder, the fly of his mesh track pants tenting. And tenting. I keep waiting for it to stop, but his size continues to swell and elongate. I tap into Mr. Blue’s emotions and find his reservations receding, being replaced by something hot and delicious. “I really can touch you, can’t I? This is happening.”
“Yes,” I whisper, trailing a hand down to his belly and stroking his erection through the mesh of pants. “It’s just you and me here, Mr. Blue. We can do whatever we want.”
A curse falls from his lips as he watches me fondle his straining manhood, rubbing it from root to tip. “I, uh…like I said, I haven’t been with anyone but my wife in a damn long time. I might not remember some of my old tricks.”
Here it is. The proof that Mrs. Blue was correct and her husband has lost some of his confidence. I can see where it used to exist in the vibration of his aura, the timbre of his voice. This is a man who was once cocky and victorious. Again, that sense of purpose thrums heavily, makes me yearn to restore this man, make him feel glorious once again.
I step back and shed my top, leaving my braless breasts exposed. With a toss of my hair, I rake hands up my ribcage and grasp my small globes, pinching the nipples between my fingers and thumbs. “Do you remember how to suck?”
“Hell yeah, I do,” he growls, hoisting me on to the kitchen counter. After a slight hesitation, his much larger hands replace mine and he massages my breasts, so much care going into the act that my back arches, a moan climbing my throat. “Son of a bitch, you are a sexy little thing, aren’t you?”
I’m saved from having to answer because Mr. Blue’s mouth closes over my right nipple and euphoria shoots through me, trapping my breath in my lungs.
Mr. Blue’s hands drop to the counter behind me and I feel a breeze where he presumably flips up my skirt. I’m already lost in the suction of his mouth, but when he adds the grip of his big hands on my bottom, yanking me closer on the counter, wetness gathers on my panties and I only want to get closer. Closer. I want to climb him and touch every part of his body to every part of mine.
When I force myself to focus, I realize I have indeed climbed Mr. Blue and he’s walking us out of the kitchen, back through the foyer and into a sunken living room. He’s breathing heavily as he sits with me in his lap and our mouths meet, tongues dragging together and tangling in a carnal kiss. It’s not a conscious decision to stop kissing this man and get on my knees—it’s impulse. I’ve never taken a man into my mouth before, but surely there is no greater method to make a man feel mighty. And that’s what I need. That’s what he needs. I’m powerless to do anything but obey when his emotions have melded with mine.
I tug down the waistband of his pants, gasping as he aids me with a lift of his hips…and his enormous erection is freed. “So big,” I praise him, rubbing my cheek against the dark trunk of flesh. “I want to try and put the whole thing in my mouth. Please, Mr. Blue?”
“Jesus Christ,” he pants, spreading his arms along the back of the couch, making his already huge body appear even wider. “You don’t have to ask, baby.” His thick thighs spread to give me more room. “I’d kill to sample that pretty mouth.”
I circle my tongue around the pulsing head, pleased over the choked sound it draws from Mr. Blue. “You should make me beg for this,” I whisper, kissing the slit that divides the head. “It’s incredible, just like the rest of you.” Keeping my eyes on his, I suck the tip into my mouth and take several inches of his hardness. I can’t go any further, but his intense delight at being in my mouth gives me the ability to go lower, lower, until Mr. Blue is curved to the shape of my throat.
His fingers fly to my hair, wrapping my locks around shaking knuckles. “Fuck. Please, baby, do that again. Fuck fuck fuck.”
After the first time, it’s easy. I hold my breath and reach out for Mr. Blue’s lust, letting it drunken me and relax every muscle in my body. It becomes addictive, the smooth glide of his arousal along my tongue and down my throat, leaving drips of salty fluid behind. Above me on the couch, Mr. Blue’s head is pitched back, his groans echoing off the high ceilings of the living room.
I want to be closer to him, to feel his skin on mine, so his bliss can seep into me. After one final long suck of his heavy sex, I climb back up and straddle his lap, shifting around on his thick inches and moaning shamelessly.
“Will you take your shirt off for me?” I say haltingly against his lips. “Please? I want our skin to slide together when you’re fucking me.”
His pupils expand and he lets out a harsh growl. “I’ve never met anyone who talks like you.”
I trail my tongue along the seam of his lips. “Do you like it, Mr. Blue?”
“Nah, baby.” He reaches for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it off over his head and tossing it aside. “I love it.”
A flash of his former confidence is already making itself known and I encounter a rush of triumph. But I want more. I want him fulfilled. I want him to share that emotion with me as I’m making him experience it. That’s where I’ll find my own completion. In his. In the connection we make.
I settle my hands on his shoulder and trail fingertips down his heaving chest, through the curls of hair and over tattoos. “So powerful,” I marvel, leaning in to French kiss his mouth. “Like a king.”
Without prompting I go up on my knees, whimpering into our kiss as Mr. Blue’s hands mold my backside beneath my skirt, gradually pushing my thong to one side. I’m shaking with such anticipation of having him inside me that I almost have an orgasm when the smooth tip of his erection invades my slick entrance, pushing, stretching my walls.
“My wife must know I love her to let me fuck a pussy this tight.” He pumps his hips and fills me a little more. A little more. Until I’m impaled on his throbbing sex, my clit tingling and swollen from the repeated friction. “Although, how would she know that part?” he says through clenched teeth, sweat appearing on his forehead.
I lay my lips against his ear. “That can be our one teeny tiny secret.” I tweak my hips, making his eyes roll back in his head. “Can’t it, Mr. Blue?”
His right hand slaps down on my bottom, making it sting. “Bad little girl.”
I challenge him with a look, letting my hands roam over my breasts. “What is the big, bad man going to do with the bad little girl?”
There’s another rough smack to my backside, and this time it feels better. Amazing, even. And it has everything to do with the cocky expression on Mr. Blue’s face. I wasn’t lying when I called him a king. He’s lounging back on the couch, licking that lower lip and waiting to be serviced. Just like I imagine he must have been at the height of his success. A hero getting his due.
Using his shoulders for balance, I rise up on my knees and sink back down on Mr. Blue’s rigid length, scooping my hips forward so I can stimulate my clit with every up and down ride. We’re panting against each other’s mouths, Mr. Blue’s urging hands clasping my bottom, bruising it while I tunnel him in and out of me. My nipples slide through sweat-dampened chest hair, and the choppy sounds he’s making tell me he’s close. I’m close, too. Oh God, his peak is going to be extraordinary. The build-up of it is crashing into me—
“What the hell is going on here?”
The third presence in the room is jarring, but not in a negative way. No, I have to throw myself against Mr. Blue’s chest and bite his shoulder, because Mrs. Blue’s excitement is so intense, so bright, it’s like standing beside a heat lamp turned to full blast. Getting lost in my own pleasure, I almost forgot she was meant to catch us, but she is distinctly unforgettable right now, her expression contorted in rage.
I know better, though.
“Honey…” Mr. Blue rumbles, his hands still squeezing and releasing my bottom, as if he has no control over it. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh, really?” She stops beside the couch and cocks a hip. “You’re not fucking a girl younger than your own daughter? In our home?”
“Younger than?” A tremor passes through him and he gives me a subtle thrust from beneath. And another. As if he’s trying to pump into me undetected. “Fuck. I can’t…”
“You can’t stop, can you?” Mrs. Blue chides. “Better finish then. Don’t let me keep you.”
With that, she perches on the arm of the couch and crosses her arms. The picture of a scorned wife. But the hard nipples pressing to the front of her dress tell another story altogether.
I slide my knees wider on the couch and grind down on Mr. Blue’s hardness, heat assailing me as I watch him react. Watch him try to keep from moaning and fail, finally letting out the sound, the cords of his neck stark and glistening with sweat. “It’s my fault, Mrs. Blue,” I purr, circling my hips. “I couldn’t resist him. I knew he would fill me all the way up. Knew he would fuck me until I screamed.”
“Has he done that?” Mrs. Blue asks. “Made you scream?”
I pull my face into a bratty pout, rubbing my hard nipples side to side against Mr. Blue’s chest. “Not yet.”
All this time, Mr. Blue has been trying to be furtive about driving himself slowly up into my wet heat, but now his tether snaps. One second I’m straddling his lap, the next I’ve been thrown onto my back on the couch and Mr. Blue is no longer trying to keep the repeated pounds of his manhood into my body a secret. His hefty, muscular frame presses me down until I’m gasping for air, my thighs open and shaking, shaking, shaking with the power of his entries. The living room fills with wet, squelching sounds of him entering my wet hole and he does nothing to quiet his loud grunts.
“Look at you.” Mrs. Blue shakes her head, but with my head thrown back, I can see her hand disappearing beneath her dress, the bliss that steams across her face. “You filthy man. Fucking that little girl because you can’t help it. You better not come inside of her. You better not.”
“I can’t pull out. It’s too sweet,” he rasps, his thrusts quickening, so fast a scream begins to build in my throat, his oncoming peak colliding with mine. “Fuck. Christ. It’s too late. I can’t…fuuuuuuuck.”
My scream is unleashed and it joins with Mr. Blue’s prolonged groan, the jerk of his flesh inside me and the never-ending flood of hot seed. He grinds down and curses, trying to wring himself dry inside me, and I pull his buttocks closer, sinking my nails into that flesh, encouraging him to overflow me. And when Mrs. Blue’s cries of pleasure join ours, it becomes too much again. I’m splintered apart by three unique free falls and I hit the bottom hard, blackness blanketing my vision.
Before I let sleep claim me, I watch Mr. and Mrs. Blue share a laugh and a reassuring kiss above me. With their arms around one another, they look down at me with such fondness and care that I feel completely safe surrendering to the night.