The Husband Sitter
By: Jessa KaneMrs. Black circles around behind me, working the snaps of my bra with her fingers, letting it fall to the floor. “You must get this little virgin pregnant, darling. We’ll either be paid hush money or stay connected to the family forever. It’s a matter of financial survival.” She reaches past me and takes her husband’s hand, guiding it to my breast. “Hurry. We don’t have a lot of time.”
“Damn you,” Mr. Black groans, moisture building on his upper lip. He’s shaking now, his hot gaze locked on my breasts. “Are you really a virgin or is that part of this fucked up fantasy?”
“I really am,” I whisper, a tremor passing through me when he releases a closed-mouth moan. “I’ve been one since I was born.”
He huffs a laugh. “Are there any rules, Mrs. Black?”
“None.”
His eyes tick to her. “Are you staying to watch?”
“I have to make sure the job gets finished, don’t I?”
Mr. Black places a single finger on my shoulder and taps it, telling me without words to get on my knees. One time, I walked in on my neighbor and her husband. The husband’s back faced me, but my neighbor was on her knees and I could tell she was…using her mouth to give pleasure. Is that what Mr. Black wants me to do? I think that’s the case, but he follows me to the floor, bringing us both to kneeling positions on the soft, blue gymnasium mat.
“Get on your back, mon sucre d’orge.”
“What does that mean?”
Mr. Black crawls over me, a stray curl falling down the center of his forehead. “My little candy.” He hooks a finger in my white, lace panties and lowers them slowly, cursing at what he finds. “Because you’re going to be very little and very sweet, aren’t you? Mon Dieu.”
“We don’t have a lot of time before her daddy comes home,” drawls Mrs. Black from her lean against the wall. “You have to fuck her fast, darling.”
His energy smolders like a bonfire as he visibly disappears into the fantasy. His upper lip curls and that cockiness returns in spades. The finger hooked in my panties drags them the remaining distance down my legs, his right hand shoving my knees wide. I’m completely unprepared when Mr. Black drops his mouth to my private flesh and jiggles my clitoris with his tongue. He stays there until a scream builds in my throat, then licks long and deep straight up the center of my damp folds.
“You think I haven’t noticed your little crush on me, mon sucre d’orge?” He runs his tongue along his full, bottom lip, leaving it glossy. “Deny it if you want, but I can taste the lie. Tastes like wet virgin.”
This is the thing about my gift. I don’t have to be in front of someone to take on their emotions. Just like the mountain climber I channeled earlier for bravery. Mr. Black is putting me in the shoes of his stepsister. A stepsister with an innocent crush that’s about to be corrupted.
Mr. Black watches me with darkening eyes as he licks me repeatedly in a savoring manner, the tip of his tongue continually returning to my clit to flicker against the swollen nub. It’s the most divine, mind-blowing sensation I’ve ever experienced. Heat is fountaining inside of me, my muscles twisting and releasing. There is a man’s mouth between my legs. “I didn’t think you noticed,” I heave, seeing the world through someone else’s eyes. “My crush on you.”
Laughing darkly, Mr. Black traces a path up my belly with his tongue, continuing to my chest, where he drags it around each nipple, setting off sparks behind my eyes. “You’ve been shameful. Flaunting yourself. Making my cock hard against my will,” he mutters against my mouth, some reality threaded into those hoarse words. “Now you’ll suffer the consequences. Spread your thighs and let big brother rut you.”
If there wasn’t such immense need in Mr. Black’s eyes, I might have recoiled at the harshness in his words. But I feel his true intensions down to my marrow. The very real presence of his wife is in the room and he’s using animosity toward me to ease his guilt. He’s making it all right for himself to sleep with me within the bonds of his marriage and I have only sympathy, the increased need to ease his hunger.
