The Husband Sitter

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.