The Husband Sitter

By: Jessa Kane


I drop my thighs open and quietly show him my trust.

He falters, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Mon Dieu.” His head lowers, his breath warming my mouth. “You are unexpected.”

His praise makes me brave and I run fingertips down Mr. Black’s sculpted back, sucking in a breath when he begins to roll his hips, dragging the length of his erection through my slickness, the base of him continually prodding me right where I need it. And we moan into our first kiss, Mr. Black sucking in a surprised breath through his nose. I can taste his shock, but over what? I don’t know. I can simply lie there and let his tongue play with mine, moving my head to accommodate the rising intensity of the kiss.

When he pulls away, the grooves in his forehead are even deeper, his eyes shooting angry sparks at me. At first. Now he’s directing them at his wife. “Is this what you wanted?” He fists his huge erection and pushes home slowly, stretching me to full capacity. I’ve never been this close to another human being, and having one inside me is a rapid tumult of his feelings all at once. Lust, confusion, guilt, lust, lust, lust. Shock over the limited room inside me. “Is this what you wanted, wife?” Mr. Black grinds out. “To see me balls deep in this tight, little brat?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

And now I’m not only blanketed by Mr. Black’s emotions. Now his wife’s feelings roll over me in a wave and I’m not just desperate beyond belief for physical relief, I’m also worried. “Please. Don’t be angry with her,” I say to Mr. Black, clasping the sides of his face. “She only wants you to be happy. Needs it.” Ignoring the ripple of pain between my thighs, I wrap them around his hips and lift my ass, making him groan. “Show her your love and gratitude by accepting her gift. She needs this as much as you.”

“Merde,” he rasps, punching forward with a thrust and staring down into my eyes. “What are you?” His hands curl under my knees and lift them higher, higher, his drives turning frantic, his teeth baring themselves just above my face. “I can feel you in my head. All over my fucking body. Who is this creature you brought me, wife?”

“She’s magnificent, isn’t she, our beautiful Astrid?” Mrs. Black’s high heels rap on the floor until I can see them in my periphery, just beside my face. Standing over me while her husband mates me in an all-out frenzy on the floor. “How does she feel, darling?”

“Incredible, damn you. Her pussy…” He presses my knees to my shoulders, his hips pumping, pumping, pounding. “It’s like fucking the pinkie finger of a glove.”

“Now wouldn’t that feel nice a couple of times a week while I’m away?”

“Yes.”

I’m barely able to draw breath around the glorious sensations. There should be pain, because I’m a virgin, but there’s none. There is no negativity in this room or inside my mind and body. I’m a pleasure vessel, getting and giving, to me, to Mr. and Mrs. Black. “Her father just texted,” Mrs. Black murmurs, returning us to the game. “He’s in the driveway. Looking for his innocent, little girl.”

Mr. Black throws his head back on a moan. “Merde.”

“Fill her quick. We need her pregnant.” Mrs. Black crouches down. “Feel how ripe she is for a child. Give her your come. Now.”

“I will. I can’t help it.” His open mouth lands on my neck, biting, sucking. “Time to reap what you sow, baby sis.”

Every cell in my body is screaming in euphoria at having so much gratitude leveled in my direction. Mr. Black is abundantly grateful that I’m letting him partake in my body and that I’ve bridged a connection between him and his wife. Made this situation okay. Mrs. Black is thrilled and more than a little turned on, watching her husband attack my mouth in a desperate kiss and grind his hips down one final time—

My universe splinters apart. The pressure plaguing my body releases like the helium from a popped balloon, and I scream, my body arching of its own volition. Red and pink paint the space in front of my eyes, wave after wave of bliss drowning me and shooting me back to the surface. Mr. Black is riding the same tide, the pleasure somehow even more intense for him. He’s shouting, shoving my knees to the mat and bearing down, his flesh convulsing inside me, rivulets of his seed dripping down my inner thighs. I’m receiving the experience of this orgasm from two sides and I can’t take it. I can’t take…

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