The Husband Sitter

“I’m giving her to you.”

Mr. Black’s resistance remains obvious. I truly don’t think Mrs. Black’s plan is going to work, even though his lust is a fire-breathing dragon in the room. The front of his sweatpants is a thick bulge and his stomach shudders, hollowing, rising. He wants. He wants so bad and that same desire invades me now, rolling into me like army tanks, making my sex heavier and heavier. It’s like he smells the change in me, because his head turns slowly, his nostrils flared.

I begin to pant. I’m probably embarrassing myself, but I can’t help it. Sexual frustration reaches out from him and cradles me, heating me, dragging me under. My gift is transferring his pain to me and it’s intense.

“Where did you find her?”

Mrs. Black laughs quietly. “Believe it or not, she came to us.” She drops her hand from Mr. Black’s hair and traces a finger along the lacy cup of my bra, making me whimper. “Tell me this creature wouldn’t please you.”

His breaths begin to match mine. That bulge at the front of his pants grows, grows, until the head of his erection pushes up through the waistband. “I can’t,” he growls. “I can’t do this.”

“Why don’t we make it a game this first time?” Mrs. Black suggests. “If I remember correctly, darling, your clients liked to paint their fantasy scenarios. They would ask you to fulfill them. Am I right?”

“Yes,” he responds tightly, licking his lips. “On the rare occasion I wasn’t enough of a fantasy.”

“Let’s take a page from their book.” Slowly, Mrs. Black urges my body closer to Mr. Black. Closer. Until my belly is grazing his distended manhood. “I hope you don’t mind…” She winks. “If I go for broke and make this scenario quite naughty.”

Neither one of us says anything. My mouth can’t move when he’s staring at it like a starved wolf with a rabbit in his sights. There’s a mixture of guilt and starvation and wonder that makes me want to press against him shamelessly, but I manage to hold off, letting the story weave around us.

“I’m not your wife right now, I’m your…mother,” she purrs in Mr. Black’s ear. When he rolls his magnificent eyes, she smiles. “Stay with me. I recently married her oh-so-rich father, inheriting Astrid here as a stepdaughter, which makes her your…”

“Stepsister,” he rasps, still not impressed. “Very original.”

“Give me some credit,” Mrs. Black continues, studying her nails. “It seems her father has tired of me and is considering trading me in for a younger wife, but I’ve signed a prenup, so a divorce would leave us broke, darling. Unless we find some way to connect this girl and her father to us for a very…long…time.”

Mrs. 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.