Bluebeard’s Wife

by Selena Kitt

  Instead, I was staying up until the wee hours, feigning sleep and listening to my husband snore, wondering what he was dreaming about. What did he really want? Why couldn’t he tell me what he was thinking, what he was feeling? Were his fantasies so strange? Was he into some bizarre fetish? I was aching to know.

  I finally got my first opportunity to hear one of his fantasies, although it came when I least expected it—soon after John and I had finished having sex.

  I loved Fridays, because he always came home so much more relaxed. Tired, yes, but ready for and anticipating the weekend break. I always made a good dinner on Fridays, something a little extra special. Even if it had been the busiest week in the world for him—which often happened around tax season—I knew that we would connect on Fridays.

  We spent most of the night watching a movie, and then I tugged on his hand, pulling him with me towards the bedroom. We both undressed, crawling beneath the covers. Most other days, I wore a t-shirt to bed, and John wore boxers, but never on Fridays. I snuggled my body next to him, sliding my leg up over his, and reaching my hand down between his legs.

  There were minor variations on this theme. Sometimes he would turn to me first, but it was rare. Usually it was me, reaching between his legs for his cock, which was already half-hard in anticipation. Like Pavlov’s dogs, it knew just what to expect on Fridays. I loved feeling him grow harder in my hand, his flesh thickening as I squeezed him, responding to my touch.

  I would stroke him, pressing my breasts into his side, rubbing my soft thigh over his, until I felt pre-cum beginning to develop at the tip. Then I usually couldn’t resist tossing off the covers and putting my mouth on his cock to taste it. He loved to play with and lick my pussy while I gave him head, and he would pull my hips and position me over his face while I sucked him.

  He knew me well, I admit. His tongue knew just where to find my clit, making me moan and grind against him. He would slip two fingers into me, moving them slowly in and out at first, and then faster. I couldn’t help moaning around his cock, sucking and stroking him eagerly, hearing the wet, sloppy noises my pussy made with his fingers slipping in and out.

  We would always do this until I came. It usually didn’t take me too long, since I, too, had been anticipating this all day. My pussy was usually already sopping the minute he walked in the door. I refused to masturbate on Fridays, even with my beloved shower massage, saving the intensity of my orgasm for his sweet, lapping tongue. It always made me shiver and shudder and spread my legs wider as I wiggled against him. He usually grabbed my hips to keep me steady as I came.

  I was one of those women whose orgasms came quietly—they kind of snuck up on me, and my response was always more of a sigh than a scream.

  “Oh John, yes,” I moaned, feeling it begin, waves of pleasure overtaking me. “Ohhh.”

  After my orgasm, he would roll me off of him, and pull me up to kiss me. I loved to taste my pussy in his mouth, the smell of it between us. Sometimes he would press me to my back, and enter me that way. I loved him on me, the weight and thrust and shudder of him.

  More often, though, he wanted me sitting on him so he could look up and watch me ride him. The look of lust in his eyes turned me to liquid every time, melting my already wet pussy into his flesh as I ground my pelvis against his. I loved his fingers playing over my clit, strumming it, making me move faster on him.

  That Friday, though, I did something that surprised him, I think. Remembering what he had said about wanting anal sex, I decided to turn things around a little bit. Literally. I slid him out of me and turned around, so I was facing his feet. His cock was still slick and wet from my juices, and my hand slid easily over him as I positioned myself over his cock. I slid back down, feeling the length of him slide into my pussy again.

  “What are you doing?” John asked as I started to rock. This position was a little awkward, and took some getting used to. I was finally catching a rhythm, and heard him groan. I looked back over my shoulder and saw his eyes focused on my ass.

  I leaned forward a little, balancing myself with my hands on his thighs. “Will you touch it?”

  His eyes lifted to mine. “What?”

  “Touch my ass,” I whispered. He slid his hands over my hips, cupping my ass in his palms. I moved my hips in little circles, feeling his cock pulsing inside of me. He was close, I could tell from the way he was starting to thrust up into me, the sound of his breath.

  I reached my hand back, placing it over his, and then slowly led his hand with mine toward the crack of my ass. When I pressed his finger against my asshole, he groaned, shoving up harder into me, actually lifting me off the bed with his thrust.

  “Yes, John,” I whispered, moving my hand away, still feeling his finger pressing against my asshole. “Put it in me.”

  He groaned again, slowly working his finger into my ass. It was a strange sensation, entirely new. I never knew it was so sensitive. I moaned and reached a hand between my legs to rub my clit as he started moving just the tip of his finger in and out of my ass. The feeling was driving me crazy and I began to tremble on top of him.

  “Oh God, Tara, your little asshole!” I felt his finger slide a little deeper inside of me, making me gasp.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Play with my asshole, baby.”

  He growled, thrusting up hard. “You’re gonna make me come!”

  “Me, too.” I felt my orgasm starting to crest, shuddering through me, every muscle between my legs a thick, wet pulse, milking his cock. He came hard, the force of it threatening to throw us both off the bed.

  When I snuggled up to him, later in the dark, after we’d cleaned up, he stroked my hair and asked, “What was that all about?”

  “What?” I knew, of course, but I wanted to hear him say it.

  “You.” He cleared his throat. “Asking me to put my finger… there.”

  “Did you like it?” I rubbed my thigh over his.

  “Did you?”

  I smiled. “Yeah. A lot.”

  We were quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Me, too.”

  We settled together, spooned at first, and I thought he had drifted off already when he said, “A lot.”

  I grinned in the darkness, putting my arm around him and kissing his shoulder.

  That was the last thing I remembered before waking to find John gone from the bed. That wasn’t unusual. I used to think he got up to go to the bathroom a lot, and I would just drift back off to sleep again. Now, though, I wondered. Was he making a phone call? The thought surprised me, after we’d just had sex—really good sex, for us!

  There was a phone next to our bed. He was clearly using the house phone, not the cell phone, at least according to the phone bill. We had a phone in the kitchen, one in the living room, and another in the basement office. My guess was, if he was on any phone, it would be the basement one. There was a couch down there he could lay down on.

  If I picked up the receiver, would I hear him? I listened to the house, but didn’t hear anything except the usual night sounds. He wasn’t in the bathroom.

  I leaned over and picked up the phone. Would he hear me if I clicked “talk”? I debated for a moment, holding my breath. Then I pressed the button. I heard his voice immediately, low and sexy. My heart leapt to my throat, and I quickly pushed the mute button, afraid they might hear me.

  “How about a school girl?” he asked.

  A feminine voice chuckled, soft and low. “The plaid skirt kind?”

  “Yeah,” he breathed.

  “With a little white button blouse, tied at the waist?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And knee socks?”

  John groaned. “Yeah, baby. Definitely knee socks.”

  “Have I been a bad girl, Daddy?”

  “You’ve been a very naughty little girl, Maria,” he agreed. “You are going to get a spanking.”

  My heart was racing still, but for different reasons now. John had incest fantasies? Spanking fantasies? My mouth fe
lt dry, but my pussy was wet—and getting wetter. I rolled over on my back, sliding my hand between my legs as I listened to them. I was still all slick from John’s cum, and I spread the wetness over my lips, rubbing my clit with two fingers in slow little circles.

  “Come here and bend over, young lady!” John’s voice was clear and demanding. I pulled the phone away from a moment to look at it, as if I could see him. This is John?!

  “Yes, Daddy,” Maria purred. “Do you want me over your knee?”

  “Yes,” John growled. “Right here over my knee, you bad girl.”

  “Oh, Daddy, what are you doing? Lifting my skirt?”

  “That’s right, and your panties are coming down, too.”

  My breath came faster as I listened to them both. I could close my eyes and see it. A part of me protested that this was my husband, that I shouldn’t be listening, I should be hunting him down with a frying pan and screaming at him—but another part of me was desperate to hear. This wasn’t the John I knew. This was some other man—and the more I listened, I realized it was a man that I wanted to know.

  “Oh, Daddy, that stings!” Maria cried out as if she had been slapped.

  “Do it, Maria,” John said. “Slap your ass.” I heard the sound of flesh against flesh, and I realized that Maria must be slapping herself for him. The thought stunned me. Every time she slapped herself, she whimpered and cried out.

  “Oh, Daddy, I’ll be good!” she pleaded. “I promise!”

  I could hear John’s breath, ragged and fast. Mine was, too. Thank God for “mute” buttons!

  “You’ll be a good girl now?” he panted. “You’ll do whatever Daddy says?”

  “Yes!” She sniffed, as if she had been crying. “Anything, Daddy.”

  “Then get down here on your knees.” His voice had that rough edge again, and it thrilled me. I rubbed my pussy faster, using both hands, and crooking the phone against my shoulder.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Put your mouth on Daddy’s cock, little girl,” John told her. “You suck that cock until I come in your mouth. And you swallow every last drop. Do you understand me?”

  “Oh, yes, Daddy!” she purred. “It’s so big and hard. I can barely get my mouth around it.”

  “That’s a girl. Take it all.” I heard John’s breathing getting even faster, and I knew he was stroking his cock. I wished he was next to me, so I could hear his hand shuttling up and down, the slick wetness of it. My pussy throbbed under my hand, the fingers of my left hand buried inside, my right hand rubbing my clit in fast little circles, bringing me closer to that edge.

  “I love sucking your cock, Daddy.”

  “You’re such a naughty girl,” he moaned. “Suck it, you little whore. Are you Daddy’s dirty little whore?”

  “Oh, yes,” she whispered. “I’m your dirty little cockwhore, Daddy! I can’t help playing with my little pussy while I suck you. It feels so good.”

  “Yeah,” he breathed. “Rub that cunt.”

  I moaned out loud, hearing that word coming from his throat. I rubbed my own cunt harder, faster, thrashing against the bed.

  “You’re gonna make daddy come, you naughty girl,” he moaned. “Are you ready?”

  “Oh, yes, I’m gonna come, too,” she moaned. I wondered if she was touching herself like I was. The thought was exciting. “Come in my mouth, Daddy!”

  “Here it comes, baby girl!” I heard him begin to let go. “Take it! Swallow my cum!”

  “Oh, God, yes!” I moaned, feeling my own orgasm begin, my pussy squeezing my fingers as I came. I shuddered and trembled under the covers, sliding my wet hands up over my belly, reaching my right hand for the phone crooked against my ear.

  “Mmmm, Daddy, you taste so good!” Marie purred into the phone. “I love swallowing all your hot cum.”

  “Good girl.” I knew John was spent. “Did you come good for Daddy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good night, Maria.”

  “Good night, John.”

  I pressed the button to turn the phone off and replaced the receiver. I heard him coming up the stairs. I stayed curled up on my side, eyes closed, until I felt him sink into bed. He put his hand on my hip for a moment, and then slid it down to cup my ass. I wondered if he was remembering earlier tonight.

  I heard him drift off, content. I stayed awake a while, wondering what I was going to do. John clearly had a fantasy life—a vivid, rich, fantasy life! But would he share it with me? How could I get him to open up to me?

  Maybe if I started making his fantasies come true? I smiled, drifting off to sleep.

  Chapter Three

  The box was just the usual brown kind, no big neon letters or red stamps all over it reading “Warning: Erotic Material Inside!” Of course not. Still, I felt funny, signing for it with the UPS guy standing there on my porch. The return address read, Thomas Industries, so he couldn’t possibly know what was in the package. Still, I was sure that the way my hand trembled when I tried to sign my name in that little electronic screen, and the weak smile I gave him must have given me away.

  I picked up the phone on the way to the couch, crooking the box under my arm. Kelly’s number was in speed-dial, and I waited for her to answer while I opened the box.

  “Hey, girl!” I loved Caller I.D.

  “Guess what I got today?” I grinned, I couldn’t help it, as I pulled all the wrapping out of the box.

  Kelly squealed. “Oh my God, have you used it yet?!”

  I flushed as I picked it up. “No. I literally just signed for the package. It’s huge!”

  “Wait until you try it!” Kelly said. “I love my rabbit!”

  “This is a hummingbird.” The vibrator was pink, kind of jelly-like in texture, with a little hummingbird attached at the base. I turned it upside down, looking at the dual controls, and aimed the tip of it at the crotch of my jeans. If it were pushed all the way inside, the little vibrating bird would sit directly on my clit. I shivered at the thought. “What are these metal bead-things inside for, again?”

  Kelly groaned. “Oh, Tara, they feel so good! They rotate. Turn it on, you’ll see.”

  “I have to put in the batteries,” I told her. “Hang on.” I set the phone down and dug in the box. Batteries included—how convenient! They were easy to slide in, and I pressed both of the “on” buttons. The metal beads rotated under the see-through shaft, and the little bird, well—hummed. You could keep pushing the buttons to make it vibrate and rotate faster.

  “Kelly?” I picked up the phone.

  “Mmm! I can hear it,” she said. “God, just the sound makes me wet.”

  “Kelly!” I flushed, the vibrator trembling in my hand. I turned the controls up as high as they would go. It was kind of loud.

  “Want me to get mine?” She lowered her voice. “We can play together.”

  “Kelly!” I felt my cheeks grow even hotter. I wiggled on the couch, feeling the seam of my jeans rubbing between my legs. It felt really good.

  “Oh, come on,” she said. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to share it?”

  I touched the pink, bulbous tip to the seam of my jeans and shivered. “Ok.”

  “Hang on.”

  I slid my jeans and panties down off my hips while I waited for her to come back to the phone, getting comfortable on the couch, still crooking the phone. The vibrator seemed to still be going strong. I lifted my shirt, and pulled down the cup of my bra, touching the pink tip to my dark-colored nipple. The shaft vibrated a little, but the hummingbird was the thing that really got going. I pressed that to my nipple and moaned out loud.

  “Hey, don’t start without me.” Kelly sounded out of breath.

  “Where are you?” I rubbed the hummingbird over my other nipple now, my eyes closing at the sensation.

  “My bedroom,” Kelly said. “Taylor’s in preschool today.”

  “So—” I held the vibrator up. “Yours looks like mine?”

  “Yep, except it’s blue and has a rabbit instead
of a hummingbird.”

  “So, how do you—?”

  “I’m gonna tell you,” she said. “Let me get my panties off.”

  I’d seen Kelly with her panties off a million times, but I hadn’t ever really thought about her taking her panties off to...well, to do what we were about to do.

  “Are you undressed?” she asked. “You should have your panties all the way off.”

  “Yeah,” I snuck the little hummingbird down my belly and pressing it against my clit. Oh, God! I’d only ever owned one vibrator, and it was the old white kind with the screw-top bottom, and it had been sitting dead in my drawer for two years. I remembered now how good vibrators really were!

  “Ok, what I like to do,” Kelly started. “Is to tease my clit with the little rabbit. Hummingbird for you.”

  “Yeah,” I breathed. “I am.”

  “Mmmmm. Doesn’t that feel good?”

  “Yes... oh, yes.” I could feel my pussy lips swelling, my juices flowing.

  “I know.”

  I could hear her breathing a little faster. I couldn’t help remembering what her pussy looked like—her naturally red hair trimmed and shaved into a neat strip above her bare lips. What did her little blue rabbit look like, sliding between them? I looked down between my own legs, rubbing the pink hummingbird between the dark hair of my slit. Kelly kept telling me I should shave there, but I never had.

  “Ok…” Kelly sounded breathless. “Now...you should be wet enough to slide it inside...are you?”

  “Oh, yeah!” I tilted the vibrator and aimed the tip towards my pussy. “Are...are you?”

  I heard her smile. “God, yes.”

  “Are you putting yours in, too?” My voice moved toward a whisper, although no one was home. I slipped the tip of it into my pussy, sliding it about halfway in.

  “Yeah, right now,” she said. “Mmmm. God, I love feeling it go inside.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Ok,” she breathed. “Now press it all the way, ‘til your little bird rests right against your clit.”