by Jason Lenov
Back arched, head bent back I roared up at the ceiling.
Somewhere beneath me Becky squealed.
The first shot of my emission came hurtling through my shaft like a missile through a rail gun. It left me not as a projectile but as a furious blob of goo that splattered deep into my Becky.
Her pussy squeezed. “Yes! Fuck! It! Into! Me!” she screamed.
The fabric of the universe was pried away. The view beneath was vast and holy. A curtain was drawn back and I could see the whole thing clearly.
That I was not an agent. That I had no will. I only felt and laughed and wept to service this one thing. This sacred transfer of material, this exchange of fluid that would ensure that not I but parts of me survived in some small way. It stretched my mind wide open and into it spat it’s truth.
This was purpose. This was meaning. This was everything.
I don’t even remember the descent. My first memory of the next moment was of lying next to Becky, panting furiously to catch my breath, her breathing just as ragged. I let my head loll sideways and our gazes met.
Becky shook her head. “That was the hottest fuck I’ve ever had,” she whispered.
Pressing a palm against her cheek, I touched her lips with mine in a kiss. “I love you so much,” I whispered back.
We kissed again, sucking on each other’s lips, tongues dancing back and forth between us. When I finally fell away I knew we were changed. We were not the couple that had walked into that bedroom. We’d transcended the normal bounds of marriage and seen the glorious view and now we could never look away.
“Are you mad I didn’t fuck him?” Becky giggled.
“I didn’t know I could love you like this,” I admitted, all my inhibitions melted by the heat of our coupling.
“You silly goose,” she said, pressing her finger to my snout. “I knew I could love you like this.”
Within the peace and calm my orgasm had brought, the dark thought stirred. It yawned and stretched it’s arms, then smiled at me from the shadow in which it lived.
Quentin.
I needed to see her with him.
Why?
I’m still not sure. Because he was black? Certainly. There was something illicit about the contrast in the colour of their skin. Something dangerous but not scary. The same kind of thing that had been revealed to me by Becky sitting on that kid’s face.
I should have been mad. The purpose of me was to, one day hopefully, inseminate Becky and make a copy of us. Flirting with the danger of another man beating me to it tickled the same nerve Quentin’s blackness did. It should have been terrible to face but I couldn’t look away.
So I quelled the urge to blurt out what I wanted. Bide your time. Make a plan. Wait until she’s ready. Because I knew she would be ready. One day she would be ready and I would sit in this very room, watching with a fascinated stare as he entered her and left his mark inside her slit.
I pet the dark beast. It growled but I reassured it our time would come. Then I coaxed it back into it’s black corner until it’s eyes shut and it went back to sleep. “Want to get some lunch?” I asked Becky.
We showered together. I wanted to make love again, of course, but she was sore and my newfound potency was slightly sapped. There was always the afternoon.
We went to Bongo’s and had our favourite Angels on Horseback or, more simply, oysters wrapped in bacon. It was an old English dish that they served with gluten-free hash browns and grilled asparagus. We drank Cesar's and didn’t talk at all about what had just happened or how it had changed us.
Becky insisted on a second drink, then insisted on smoking a cigarette on the way home. She savoured it in a way only Becky could. Sucking in a third of it at once, then blowing out thick plumes of smoke into the sunny sky.
After that I got the itch. Not for sex, though I could have gone for that, too, but to rehash what had happened that morning. To take out that corpse of a memory and poke it, seeing if we could make it come alive again.
This had always been a point of contention between us. Becky didn’t like that. She liked living in the moment, enjoying it, then imagining what might be next.
I had a need to keep reaching for the past and trying to figure out what it meant. It was always a delicate balancing act between us because reliving things made her cranky for some reason.
But when we stepped into the pleasant darkness inside the house I couldn’t resist but grab her waist and spin her around to face me.
She laughed, kissed me, then leaned away, studying my expression and what it meant. “Uh-oh,” she said, still smiling. “You want to do that thing, don’t you?”
“What thing?” I lied.
She rolled her eyes but in a teasing way. “That fucking thing you do where you have to pick at everything. Slice it up and stare at it and wonder why and what it means? Am I right? I’m right, aren’t I?”
I blushed at how well she knew me.
Becky laughed again. “I knew it,” she muttered. “Okay, mister. Shoot.”
I wondered how she could be so smart and so care-free at the same time? “You just had sex with another man,” I said, my voice tightening.
“That wasn’t sex, Jeff.”
“It wasn’t?” I asked, raising an eye.
She shook her head. “Did you see that kid? Poor thing. I felt kind of bad for him. Maybe I should have jerked him off or something, you think?”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You’re…you’re filthy. You really are a dirty little slut. This isn’t just a show, is it? You like this.”
Becky sighed and looked off to one side for a moment. “Being slutty doesn’t mean you’re a slut, mister,” Becky said. “And yes. I guess I do like it in a way.”
“You…the way you…dominated him.”
Her wicked smile returned. “You liked that did you?” she asked.
“Were you always like this? Eating men like that?” My voice was filled with wonder.
Becky cocked one eye. “I think it was him doing the eating,” she said with a giggle. “And no. Not always. Just sometimes.”
“But not with Quentin.” I braced myself for her reaction. It was a risky move. One that could have sent her to a bad place.
This time she didn’t let out an exasperated sigh, though. She flashed a flat smile and shook her head. “You and Quentin. What is it with him?”
What was it with him? Why did I have to know? Why couldn’t I let it go?
I resisted the urge to keep pressing. One question was enough. We still had twenty nine and a half days to enjoy whatever this thing was we’d uncovered. No sense bunging it up this early with a million questions.
“Change of subject,” Becky said.
“Okay.”
“What should we do next?”
A million answers poured into my mind. Fuck again? Find another guy for Becky to dominate? Make her crawl on the floor on her hands and knees? “What do you want to do?” I asked.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re the boss remember?”
I couldn’t decide.
“Okay,” Becky said, putting her hands on my chest after too much silence had passed between us. “You take your time. I’m going to have another shower.” She spun around and skipped up the steps leaving me to think.
I was left there stunned into silence at everything that had just happened and at the side of Becky that had been revealed to me. But even as I was having trouble making sense of it all, my unease began to fade. A potent lust replaced it. I began to imagine all of the lascivious possibilities of our little arrangement.
Having just watched Becky being serviced by another man’s mouth had been shocking and exhilarating. But it seemed like that was just the tip of the iceberg. I suddenly desperately craved to dip below the surface and find out how big the thing really was. How much of it was hidden from view. How far would Becky go on this quest to please me?
“Aw shit!” Becky’s words, muffled by the bathroom door, tore me from
my fantasy and plopped me back into myself.
“Beck? Becky?” I called out. “Everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” she said, then muttered a few more curses. “Come in here would you?”
A moment later I was standing in the door staring at a very nude Becky standing in the tub watching the water gush out the tap. There was barely a trickle coming from the shower head.
“I think the shower’s broken,” she said, waving at the taps.
I stepped forward and turned the knob of the diverter. Water stopped running from the shower completely. Giving it another twist brought a trickle leaking out of the shower head. I shook my head. It was one of those old three way valves and the diverter was behind the tile. “We’re going to have to call a plumber for this,” I muttered.
Becky let out an exasperated sigh and threw her hands up in the air. “Oh my god why do you have to be like that?”
I glanced at her with one eye raised. “Like what?” I asked.
“You always go to the worst possibility. Maybe we can fix this?”
By which she meant maybe I could. “Beck the whole thing’s behind the wall. We’re going to have to cut the wall open and get in there. Trust me.”
She harrumphed, stepped out of the shower, grabbed her robe off the back of the door and threw it over her shoulders.
“Where you going?” I said as she swung the door and stepped out into the hall.
“To YouTube how to fix this thing,” she said, already half-way down the stairs.
I turned and stared at the faucet, then leaned against the sink and waited. Sure enough, about five minutes later I heard Becky padding back up on bare feet. I put on my most neutral expression when she walked back into the bathroom and threw her bathrobe on the floor. I said nothing.
“Oh stop it with the smugness,” she grumbled.
I couldn’t help the smile that curled my lips. “So?”
“You know very well what fucking so!” she snapped. “We’re going to have to call a damn plumber. Now get out of here while I take a bath.”
I left the bathroom as Becky started filling the bath and went downstairs. Grabbing my tablet I settled down in the living room to thumb through the internet when Becky appeared naked at the foot of the stairs. My cock flexed at the way she was standing, one knee bent in, eyeing me with a slightly wicked smile. “What?” I asked.
Becky grinned. “Maybe a plumber isn’t the worst thing?”
I was dialing a number three seconds later.
Chapter Eight
Emergency plumbers are very expensive. Particularly on a weekend. So expensive, in fact, that a bio-ethicist and his ornithologist wife may decide their shower not working is not quite the emergency they thought.
A day and a half without a shower wasn’t going to kill us. But the lust Becky’s innuendo inspired within me felt like it might.
As she cooked herself in a too-hot bath upstairs, I sat on the couch unable to concentrate on anything but my rampaging imagination.
She wouldn’t, would she? I kept rolling the question over and over in my head, tantalizing myself with the way it sent bolts of adrenaline down to my toes. It was like looking at Becky from two different angles. The first one sweet, the second deliciously filthy.
I didn’t even hear the water draining from the tub I was so immersed in my fantasy. Becky calling me upstairs wrenched me from my thoughts and sent me hurtling up to the bedroom. When I arrived she was naked, her skin a bright pink from the bath.
“I’m so hot,” she complained.
“Yes you are,” I replied, already undoing my belt and shirt-buttons.
Becky laughed and looked away. There was a playfulness to her reaction that was incredibly appealing.
I crawled onto bed, my cock already stiff from entertaining all those visions of dirty Becky doing very dirty things.
Becky rolled coyly over onto her side so her back was to me.
I pressed my nose into the crook of her neck, kissed her and smelled her fragrant skin. “You wouldn’t,” I whispered.
“Wouldn’t I?” she replied.
“It’s…too much. A total stranger? The fucking plumber, for god’s sake?”
Becky chuckled as I kissed a line down her back and caressed her warm thigh with my hand. “A total stranger,” she whispered. “Only if you let me.”
This was intensely erotic. That Becky might even consider the possibility of accepting a stranger into herself to satisfy my depraved desires. It made Josh eating her out seem like an aperitif before an enormous meal. My hunger overwhelmed me. Leaning into her again I pressed my cock between her ass cheeks and reached around to paw at her breast. “You’d have to use protection.”
Becky sighed. “Jeff you know I can’t. I’ll break out in hives like I always do with condoms.”
I could feel my heart beating inside my chest. “You’d really do that? You’d let a man…into you? Bare?”
Becky rolled onto her back and eyed me with a lusty stare. “Like I said, only if you let me,” she whispered.
My eyes raked down her curves, cock flexing between my legs as I thought of what that would be like. “What if he’s ugly? What if he’s dirty?”
Becky pondered this, glancing up at the ceiling before looking at me again. “What if? Wouldn’t you like that, you pervert.” She giggled. “Seeing your pretty wife getting fucked by some grunt.”
My cock bounced as she said it.
Becky burst into giggles again.
I crawled onto her, pried her legs open with a knee and position my cock at her sex.
She raised her arms and put one hand on my back and one on my neck. Her legs splayed open in welcome. “I’m sorry, sir. My husband didn’t leave the check book and the sock drawer’s empty. Is there any other way we can settle this?” she teased with the face of a bimbo.
I shook my head and pressed the tip of my cock against her soaked pussy lips. “You wouldn’t,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but a long t-shirt. You think he’d get the picture?” she asked.
I couldn’t believe it. Grunting I eased my cock into her soaked warmth and pressed deeper. “He might. But he’d never go for it. This isn’t a porn, Becky. This is twenty-nineteen. Men know they can’t do things like that anymore.” I groaned as I squeezed deeper into her warm, wet crevice.
Her smile faded. “I don’t care what year it is,” she whispered. “A woman who knows how to get it, gets what she wants.”
I shuddered at her certainty. As the fantasy of Becky being bent over the counter and fucked by a plumber blossomed in my mind I began to rut toward release. When I glanced at her again, she was staring back at me.
“I bet I could get him to do it,” she said, her breathing a little heavy. “You think a man could resist this?”
“Oh god,” I groaned as the visions began to race through my head. Becky’s tightness filled with another man’s cock. The wet sounds of them fucking slapping around the kitchen. Becky shaking through a climax as a stranger creamed her pussy.
“Do it, Jeff. Fuck your cum into me,” Becky whispered. She emitted a little squeal and I felt her pussy tighten around me.
The idea that Becky might be thinking of another man, a stranger, doing this to her sent me tumbling over the edge. The dam burst and I flooded her channel with seed.
She dug her fingernails into my back as her body tensed. We shared an intense but silent climax before I collapsed onto her panting and sweaty.
It took me a long time to muster the courage to look at her again. She turned to me and smiled when I did. “Tell me you’re serious,” I said softly.
Becky smiled again. “As serious as you want me to be.”
And so that is how I found myself on the top step of the stairs leading to the basement on Monday morning. Normally Monday morning I had office hours. I was a little ashamed that I’d called in to say I was sick. I had graduate students who I knew were counting on my
help with their essays. But finding out whether Becky would really go through with her promise had proved to powerful to resist.
I peered through the crack between the door and the frame and watched Becky strutting around the kitchen in a long t-shirt, humming as she cleared the dishes from breakfast.
When the doorbell rang my heart nearly leaped out of my chest.
As Becky made her way past the door she smiled at me and gave me a wink. A moment later I heard the deadbolt turn and the latch open. “Oh, um, hi!” Becky said with a giggle.
Silence.
The same pregnant silence that had descended on the house when Josh had showed up to do the pool.
“Are you here for the shower?” Becky asked after a suitably awkward amount of time had passed.
I balked at how good she was at this act. As if she’d rehearsed it. She was a brilliant woman and here she was pretending to be a bimbo. It was yet another contradiction that excited me to no end.
Someone coughed and cleared their throat. “Uh, yeah. This the Adams place?” the guy grunted.
“Sure is!” Becky sang. “Come in, come in!”
Heavy footsteps fell on the tile floor. A tool bag was dropped with a heavy thud. “Let me kick off my boots.”
“Oh, it’s okay!” Becky said.
“Nah, they’re all caked in mud. I don’t want to track it all over the place.”
Becky sighed. “Oh, all right. Thanks, that’s really thoughtful.”
Grunt.
I imagined the way he must be looking at her. Trying to steal glances up her t-shirt and see if she was wearing any underwear. My chest swelled at the idea that he might see she was naked beneath that shirt, her pussy exposed to him and probably already a little sweaty.
“Can I get you anything? A glass of water maybe?” Becky asked.
Another pause. I recognized the hesitation. Most tradespeople would politely decline such an offer, not wanting to mix business with pleasure. This guy was probably no different. But the fact that he didn’t say “no” right away indicated that he was at least contemplating the possibility.
This was incredibly thrilling and a little bit unbelievable. I think that even though Becky had seemed so certain that she could lure any man between her legs, a part of me really didn’t believe it. No man would risk a lawsuit or worse for a little tail. Would he?