Day, Xondra - Our Dirty Little Secret (Siren Publishing Ménage and More)

by Day, Xondra

  The humidity combined with the midsummer’s heat filled the house and made it impossible to sleep in anything more than a pair of panties.

  “I pity your father,” said Jeff.

  She’d had enough talking about her family. After spending the entire day with them, she wanted to purge them from her thoughts. “Let’s not talk about them.” She slid into bed alongside Jeff. “Today was…something. I’ve had enough of them to last me a lifetime.”

  “I know something that can help you de-stress.”

  He pressed against her, his hard cock seeking refuge between her legs. “Mmm,” she said, pushing back against him. Even in her foulest moods, she was always in the mood for sex.

  Jeff reached around and slid one hand inside the front of her panties, his fingers sliding down lower. She sucked in a breath when he found her clit with his index finger. “That’s nice.” She bit down on her bottom lip, enjoying the delicious sensation flooding through her.

  She yielded to him, allowing him to slip one finger inside her, his thumb now manipulating her clit, teasing, stroking. And when he slipped a second finger inside, she begged him not to stop.

  “Don’t…please don’t stop.” She clenched her pussy around his fingers, knowing that soon they’d be replaced by his big, thick cock. She trembled in anticipation, her juices flowing.

  “Nice and wet,” whispered Jeff. His hot breath caressed her right ear, and then the back of her neck. “You’re going to feel great wrapped around my cock.”

  Ann moved in a slow rhythm, working his fingers. Then it happened, coming in hot, glorious waves of ecstasy. She came, hard.

  * * * *

  Jeff brought his fingers to his lips, tasting them, tasting Ann. Sweet!

  She never failed to excite him. He throbbed for her, ached for her, and pulling her panties aside, he slid inside her hot, wet pussy.

  Groaning, he rolled over on his back, pulling her along with him until she was on top, lying back across him.

  Jeff liked this position. And when Ann ground her hips down, rotating them, her pussy working his cock, he let loose with another deep groan as she milked him.

  “That’s it, baby,” he said, encouraging her. “Fuck your man, please your man with that hot cunt.”

  Ann turned her head slightly, a lustful smile forming. “Your hot cock feels so great. I never fucking tire of it. Go deep, fuck me good and hard. I want to feel you pounding me.”

  Never one not to oblige his wife, he grabbed her hips and started to pump, his cock sliding in and out of her slick tunnel while she moved in rhythm with him, working her clit on every downstroke with his fingers.

  He reached up and grabbed Ann’s tits, squeezing her nipples just enough to cause her to clench around his cock. He felt the buds harden as he tweaked each of them with his free hand.

  “Fuck,” she said, “you’re about to make me come again. Sweet merciful!”

  He loved it when she talked dirty. It was so unlike her. Nothing like her usual day-to-day behavior, but once in bed, she always turned into one hell of a minx.

  “Ride my cock. Work your tight cunt around my cock. Come on, you know how I like it. Make me come inside you. Tell me how much you want me to explode deep inside your hot, wet pussy.” She liked hot talk. It often sent her over the edge. He knew this from experience.

  “Fill me with your hot cum. God, Jeff, oh my fucking God.” She groaned, her mouth now half open, her eyes shut. “Fuck,” she cried. “I’m coming baby!”

  That was all he needed to hear to induce his own orgasm. Jeff felt his balls draw up and that telltale sensation that shot up through his throbbing shaft. And there it was, hot cum, exploding from the tip of his cock, spewing deep inside his wife’s worked-over pussy.

  After they stopped moving, he held his position for a moment, still inside her until she made the first move and slid off him, his cock now deflating, slick with their intermingled juices.

  “That was amazing,” said Ann, resting at his side.

  Both slick with sweat and feeling the intense heat from not only their lovemaking but also from the night, he reached to the nightstand to turn on the small bedside fan.

  “You’re amazing,” he replied, curling one arm around her. “My hot, beautiful, and amazingly sexy wife.”

  “You’re biased.” She rolled her eyes. “But always a good lay.”

  “Well, gee, thanks for that. It’s good to know I’m useful for something,” he teased. “I don’t mind though. There are worst things for a man to be other than a sex toy.”

  “You love being my sex toy.” She turned and kissed him. “Admit it.”

  He nodded. “I do. It’s awesome. I’d have it no other way.”

  They both snickered at their exchange of words.

  Ann ran her fingers across his chest, her fingers settling in his sparse chest hair. “I hope it’s like this always. I hope things never change between us.”

  “Me too,” he replied. “Forever and always, darling.”

  She glanced up at him, smiling. They kissed.

  Chapter Two

  Mike Monroe hated moving.

  Standing in the middle of what he guessed was the combined living and dining area, he sighed looking at the mess that surrounded him from the move.

  How had he managed to accumulate so much stuff over the past five years he lived at the old apartment? The thought was well beyond his realm of thinking. Yet here it was. His life for the past five years in many, many boxes.

  Even with the stress of moving, he couldn’t help but be proud of his accomplishments. After four years of saving every bit of extra money, he was able to buy a house, a house that only just a few short years ago had been only a wishful dream.

  “So this is it,” he said aloud to the room. “I’m home.” Saying those words felt strange, as if it wasn’t real, that it couldn’t be real. But it was, and it felt damned good.

  Still early morning, just a little after ten, he had a long day ahead of him. Thinking what to do next, Mike decided to start in the kitchen with the intention of tossing anything he didn’t need as he unpacked each box.

  Opening the first box, the first thing that came to mind was not a thing but a person.

  Jackson. This box was supposed to go in the garage. He’d marked it specifically for that.

  “Damn it,” he cursed, looking in at its contents.

  They’d been together for almost ten years, and two years ago Jackson had died suddenly of an aortic aneurysm. It happened fast. One day he was part of a couple and the next…alone.

  Jackson left for work that morning and bang, at around two in the afternoon, Mike got the call that he was dead.

  If things always happened for a reason in life, Mike certainly did not understand the reasoning behind Jackson’s death.

  This one box contained the few things that he’d kept that belonged to Jackson. It was mainly personal stuff, things that always helped him to remember the good times they shared while together. It had been love. His only real love, and with that taken from him, there hadn’t been anyone else since.

  Mike looked upwards at the ceiling. “Wish you were here,” he said, reaching down and grabbing the box. “I still miss ya, you dumbass.” He smiled, remembering how they would often go back and forth at each other like that.

  Anyway, there was absolutely no sense in thinking about any of that. That was the past and already done with. Jackson was gone and he wasn’t coming back. He accepted that a long time ago.

  * * * *

  Jeff had gone off to work at six that morning. Ann got out of bed at eight and immediately made her way to the kitchen, clad in only a thin cotton robe.

  Coffee.

  That’s what she needed to wake up.

  Ann set the coffeepot to brew and then, after she toasted a bagel, sat at the table staring out the kitchen window to her right.

  She stirred when she saw something pass in the window next door inside the Donaldson house. She knew the house had
sold a couple weeks back, but this was the first time she saw any sign of life in there since the previous owners moved out three months ago.

  Interesting. Ann moved from the table to the window for a closer look, and when a man’s faced appeared looking back at her, she jumped back, embarrassed. Not a good impression to make on the new neighbors.

  After breakfast, she showered and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, leaving her hair to dry on its own.

  She went to her office and turned on her laptop, trying to remember what she had written last. Her current work was tentatively titled Delilah’s Dilemma. It would most likely end up changed, but that’s what she called it for now.

  Opening the file, she scanned over what she had written two days ago. She detested going more than one day without writing. Often whenever she did, it left her wondering how to continue on.

  Ann wouldn’t have minded if she wasn’t under a firm deadline. But the contract was signed and sealed for this one, and she had to deliver it on time.

  Over her desk hung her past book covers, each matted and framed, each an accomplishment in itself. And to think, five years ago she had been just another unknown, new to the industry. Back then she wrote without pressure, writing whatever came to mind for her at the time. Things were different now. She had an image, a brand to maintain, and her readers were voracious, always looking and waiting for her next book to come out. She didn’t dare complain about her fans. Without them she’d be nothing. They were the ones who kept her where she was, living quite comfortably, and relatively happy with her life.

  Her books were known for their…heat. In the beginning, she started out writing mainstream romance, the usual stuff. But when her agent suggested she spice things up a bit due to an ever-growing market, she went with it, and that’s when she found the success she’d been seeking.

  Pussy, cunt, snatch…cunnel. She smirked, thinking about the last one, one that she had invented on her own but never dared use. She had to be somewhat professional with her words.

  “Delilah, dear, where shall you go from here?” she questioned, talking to the computer screen, thinking about her main character, a woman who was on the road to discovering sexual liberation for the first time. “If I were you, what would I do next?”

  * * * *

  Mike shook his head and laughed, thinking about that woman who was watching him from next door. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car when he’d caught her.

  Placing glasses in the cabinet next to the kitchen sink, he stopped for a moment and glanced back out the window to see if she had come back. She hadn’t. At some point, he’d have to introduce himself. It was the neighborly thing to do.

  At noon, he made a sandwich and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, heading out to the backyard on the deck.

  The property backed onto a fabulous greenbelt. He pictured himself getting a dog in the near future. Now that he had the space, two would even be possible. They’d be able to keep each other company while he was at work. Not that he’d have to worry about that since he still had two months left to his leave of absence.

  “Neighbor,” called a female voice, stirring him from his thoughts.

  Mike looked up to see a slender brunette standing behind the fence that separated their property, her hands resting on top of the pickets. “I guess I am,” he replied, walking down from the deck, beer in hand.

  “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said, looking at him sheepishly. “I’m usually not nosey. But when I saw someone, you in the window, my curiosity got the better of me. The Donaldsons have been gone for some time, and we’ve been wondering who was going to be the next to move in and praying that we’d get someone at least halfway normal.”

  “Well, that’s something I can’t promise. I’d like to think I am, but I’m pretty positive others would debate it.” He grinned.

  “What’s normal anyway? We all have our little quirks.” She held out her hand. “I’m Ann Hunter.”

  “Mike Monroe.” They shook hands. He thought for a moment. He’d heard her name before. “Ann Hunter…now where have I heard that name before?”

  She smiled. “Ann Hunter, the writer. That would be me.”

  “That’s it. I knew it. It would have come to me eventually.” The woman wrote rather spicy, sexy novels. He’d read a couple, though he would never be quick to admit it. “I’ve seen your books everywhere.”

  “They’re widespread, thanks to a terrific agent and publisher.”

  “I’ve always wondered what it must be like to be famous,” he gushed.

  “I’m not famous.” She blushed. “I should get back to work.” She motioned to the house. “I’m on a deadline.”

  “Well, thanks for making introductions. I was planning to do so later,” he explained.

  “Why don’t you come around tonight?” she suggested. “For dinner. I’m sure my husband would also like to meet you. He’s always up for meeting new people.”

  Mike hesitated before giving an answer. Ann seemed nice, but her husband could possibly be a whole other can of worms. Most heterosexual men he’d encountered were never comfortable around an openly gay man. Ann’s husband could be an exception to the rule, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to risk trying this soon. He could play it straight. The fact was he wasn’t one hundred percent gay. He disliked labels, but if he had to use one, bisexual came the closest to explaining him, with a strong preference for men.

  He did find women attractive. And something about Ann appealed to him. She was pretty, a natural beauty, and friendly. Both were positive qualities.

  “So, you will come?” she asked.

  “Sure…why not.” He already regretted his answer, feeling a tinge of nervousness sweep through his stomach. “What time should I come over?”

  “Six.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  She backed away from the fence. “Great. We shall see you then.”

  He nodded and then headed back inside, crushing the beer can in his hand.

  * * * *

  Delilah just had her first threesome, or ménage, as some preferred to call it.

  Ann leaned back in her chair and turned the desk fan towards her. The temperature outside had climbed steadily throughout the day, and now she was ready to pass out from both physical and mental fatigue. Writing sex always exhausted her and left her a little excited.

  Glancing at her watched, she figured it was best to shower before Jeff came home. Afterwards, she’d get a start on supper. It wasn’t anything fancy, just spaghetti made with her special sauce blend along with garlic bread. Damn! She was such a twit at times. She neglected to ask if Mike was attached. It was quite possible he’d be bringing a spouse or partner. She’d just have to make sure there was enough to go around.

  In the shower, she sank beneath the cascading warm water, feeling it cleanse her along with her favorite lime-coconut bodywash. Her thoughts wandered elsewhere.

  Mike Monroe.

  Handsome, muscular, and killer blue eyes. And his hands, big and strong. She often noticed a man’s hands.

  Ann imagined what Mike’s hands would feel like handling her, touching her in places that only Jeff touched her since they were married.

  Cheating wasn’t something that she ever thought about. It wasn’t in her to do so. But there wasn’t one darned thing wrong with looking and fantasizing.

  Her hands slipped down across her slick skin to her pussy, her fingers finding her bud. Closing her eyes, she imagined it was Mike’s hand doing her dirty work, pleasuring her.

  Ann groaned and, with her free hand, tweaked her nipples. It wouldn’t be long now.

  “Oh yes, touch me,” she begged, her imagination now driven into overdrive. She had to come…bad. “Play with me.”

  Leaning back against the shower’s wall, she spread her legs slightly, her clit burning with each stroke. She imagined Mike between her legs, licking her cunt, his fingers fucking her nice and deep, his thick, meaty fingers.

&n
bsp; When her orgasm hit, her knees buckled, and she struggled to keep from falling. “Fuck,” she muttered, her legs shaking.

  Towelling off, Ann felt great, a little tired but relatively stress-free. She looked forward to seeing Mike again, and she hoped Jeff would hit it off with him. They never got to really know the Donaldsons. They were much older, well into their twilight years, and extremely private and reserved. She had not been sorry to see them go.

  Looking at her watch, she darted into the bedroom to dress. Time was slipping by, and there was still so much that had to be done.

  * * * *

  “A new neighbor, really?” asked Jeff. “When did he get a chance to move in? This morning when I left for work, there wasn’t anyone around. I would have noticed if there had been.”

  “I guess it was after you left,” replied Ann. He watched her stirring sauce. “We chatted for a bit, and that’s when I asked him to join us for dinner. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “No, not at all. What’s he like?”

  Ann added some spices to the sauce. “He seems nice. We didn’t talk that much. I think he lives alone, but I’m not certain. If he has a significant other, my guess is that he will bring her along.”

  “Or him,” Jeff added.

  Ann raised one brow. “I don’t think he swings that way.”

  “How do you know,” he asked, amused. “Can you tell just by looking at him? If so, then you have powers that I sure as shit don’t have.”

  Ann moved to the refrigerator, removing a small block of cheese. “Maybe you’ll pick up on something when he’s here. After all, you’re the one with the experience in that area.”

  Jeff rolled his eyes. “Here we go again. It was one time, one freaking time in my youth. Sometimes I think I should have kept that all to me rather than tell you.

  “I’m going to shower before he arrives. I stink,” he said, smelling one of his armpits. The strong, musky odor caused him to wince.

  “That’s just nasty.” Ann wrinkled her nose and turned away from him, her attention going back to the sauce simmering on the stove.