“Darling, I’m home!”
Those were the words that flew out of my lips the moment I entered my home, half-expecting to find my husband slumped in his favourite chair watching the games as he often did around this hour, but all I found was emptiness instead. I swept my hair off my face, perplexed, then shut the door. I dropped my keys on a cabinet and went looking for him in the bedroom but the house turned out empty. I sat on the bed and dialled his number but no luck either. The response I got was that his phone was switched off. This was the third time I’d returned from work and not found him home. It was a quarter past six in the evening.
“Where the fuck are you, Don?” I sighed with exasperation.
I left my phone on the bed, resigning my mind to the fact that my four years of marriage was inevitably drawing to a conclusion, and stripped off my clothes, still bugging my head about where in the world he could be right now. It wasn’t like he had gotten himself a job and forgot to tell me about it. He had lost his previous one two months ago when he socked his then employer after a heated argument and since then it’s been a struggle talking his ass out of the house to go search for another.
I grabbed my towel and went into the bathroom to wash the day’s stress off my body. I might as well do something good with myself to worry too much about Don — like a lost penny, I knew he would turn up whenever he got tired at wherever he was. Except this time I definitely was going to have it out him. The fool was always complaining about money like he was the one providing. We hadn’t made love in a while. My engine needed some hot waxing or it was going to break soon enough or . . .
“Ouww! The fuck!”
I realised I’d knocked my right toe hard against the linoleum wall. My body was soaped up and I was scrubbing my feet while ruminating on what I was going to say to Don when he returned home when that happened. Done with my bath, I hopped into the bedroom trailing water behind me and sat on the bed massaging my foot. Feeling better, I wore a black T-shirt, got into a pair of slippers and went into the kitchen to see about something to eat.
The doorbell went DING-DOONNGG as I sat at the kitchen counter munching on a roast-beef sandwich I had made. No way could that be Don — the fool wouldn’t have lost his keys, would he? I wiped my hands then went to see who it was.
I almost thought it would be Don when I opened door. Boy, was I wrong. A black man stood there on my front porch. He wore a suit with a jacket and a Trilby hat on his head. He slipped a business card out of his pocket that declared him to be a Private Investigator.
“My name’s Thaddeus, ma’am,” he took off his hat and shook my hand. “Thaddeus Black. You are Mrs. Florence Jones?”
“I am. What’s this about?”
“I’m here looking for your husband. Donald H. Jones. He and I have a business arrangement that’s unfulfilled on his part.”
“What sort of business?”
“I’ll gladly tell you that. But first, would it be all right if I came inside?”Confused but curious, I let him in. It wasn’t until he sat down that I became seriously conscious of myself as I remembered I was wearing a shirt that stopped halfway of my thighs and nothing else. I sat across from him with my feet crossed. He unbuttoned his jacket and played with his hat in his hand.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’ve been here in your home before, Mrs. Jones. Your husband isn’t home, right?”
“He’s not. Are you friends with Don?”
“Not really. He hired me to do a job for him. To spy on someone he thought was two-timing him.”
The way he looked at me told me he was subliminally telling me something. It soon dawned on me what he meant.
“Is this for real? My husband actually paid you to spy on me?” I blurted the question incredulously, like even I couldn’t believe it.
“He did,” Thaddeus nodded. “But he hasn’t completely paid me yet. That’s why I’m here. Have you any idea when he’ll be home?”
“I honestly don’t know; he wasn’t here when I got home. Did Don think I was cheating on him? Did he actually think that? How long has it gone on?”
“Three weeks. He paid half up front but he’s been ducking me the other half these past couple of days. That’s why I’m here. I’m sorry I had to reveal this to you, but your husband has been dodging me for more than a week now. He left me no choice, which is why I’m here looking for him.”
“This other half he owes you, how much is it?”
“Two hundred and fifty,” he said.
“How much was it up front?”
“The same.”
“You’re saying my husband was meant to pay you five hundred bucks to find out if I was cheating on him? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Exactly so,” he said.
“My God. You do know that Don doesn’t have a job, do you? How did the bastard promise paying you?”
“Wasn’t my place to ask, ma’am. Come to think of it, I’m a fool to have accepted the job. Anyway, since he’s not here, I’ll be taking my leave and probably check back some other time.”
He rose to his feet about to take his leave. An idea suddenly occurred to me and I stopped him before he got to the door.“Mr. Black, I was wondering — ”
“Please, call me Thaddeus, or Thad. I’d rather prefer that.”
“Ok, Thad. And I’m Flo, by the way. I was wondering if you’d care for something to drink.”
He thought for a moment, then: “I won’t mind a beer if you have any.”
“Of course. Come with me.”
We went into the kitchen. That was when I caught a naughty bug that suddenly took over me. I opened the fridge and leaned into it, selfishly exposing my back to him. I could sense he caught a terrific view of my buttock as I pretended struggling to fetch a beer out of the fridge. I even gave a bonus of shaking my tail feather, hopping that would further entice his eyes.
“You having any luck finding the beer?” he asked.
“Well . . . It’s sort of sandwiched between other stuff . . . will just be a minute . . .”I heard him approach my behind. At that moment I grabbed a bottle of Coors Lite and turned around and there he stood two feet from me; he had left his hat on the kitchen counter along with his jacket.
“It’s too cold,” I said, indicating the beer. “Perhaps we can let it warm a little bit.”
Our eyes locked.
Seconds passed and neither of us said anything.
Then we lunged at each other and started kissing.
Thad cupped my buttock and lifted me off my feet and dropped me on the kitchen table. Our lips remained locked on each other the entire time. I yearned for release; he was there for me, and that was all that mattered. I peeled off my T-shirt and threw it on the floor. He sucked my tits and pushed me to lie on my back. He unbuttoned his jacket and loosened his tie, then sat on a chair with his face between my legs like he was a gynaecologist about to operate on me. That was essentially what he did — he ate my pussy while I laid there and whimpered and gasped like I was on fire.
He came up for air and kicked the chair behind him. I wanted him at that moment. Just for emphasis, I locked my legs around his hips to let know I was hot and boiling.
Thad sensed what I wanted almost immediately. He unzipped his fly and whipped out turgid penis.“
Hold on,” he gasped. “You got any rubber around?”
“No,” I muttered breathlessly. “I don’t fucking care. Stick it in me now.”
He did just that and I gasped once more as I felt his cock fill me up. He grabbed my hips and grunted as he thrust deep inside me. I groaned in response. His cock seemed to enlarge inside me. I held my legs apart for him and he eased his thrust to steadily slid back and forth, almost like he was greasing up my pussy for more shocking pounding coming soon. And it did come soon. He altered his pace from lengthy thrusts to hard pounding ones like he had done earlier.
His hands crawled up my body to cup my tits.
I lifted my hips to take more of his dick.
Thad grunted and suddenly came inside me.
He tensed and roared as he continued pumping his load inside me then collapsed on top of me when he was done. I could feel his penis going flaccid, like it was swimming in a pool of his semen mixed with mine. It felt great; it felt beyond this earth. It had been a while since I enjoyed such satisfaction. Nothing beats good sex, especially a spontaneous one.
“Think we should take that beer in the bedroom?” I asked him after he had pulled himself up from me.
“You’re not worried about your husband?”
“Fuck him. I’m divorcing his dumb ass after today,” I said. “Now, do you want that beer warm or not?”
He smiled and said: “Lead the way, ma’am.”
And that was what I did.
Hi! I am a robot. I just upvoted you! I found similar content that readers might be interested in:
https://psiloveyou.xyz/putting-out-the-fire-in-mrs-jones-680fcd15be63
Downvoting a post can decrease pending rewards and make it less visible. Common reasons:
Submit
Great story - and nice to find a fellow erotica author here!
Downvoting a post can decrease pending rewards and make it less visible. Common reasons:
Submit