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Bluebeard's Wife Ch. 01

By: Selena_Kitt



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Click Here to listen. (15.5 min/mp3)

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I know I can be a little obsessive, but when I found myself searching his Internet history for any remnants of porn, even I knew I was crossing a line. I sat there, hoping to find something, anything— "Thick sausage pounded into tight anus" or "Sexy young blonde babes lick each others snatches" or "Ebony swallows stiff black snake" or "Wife slut takes hard cocks everywhere." Those were all the titles that ended up in my "Bulk" mailbox, and I knew they must show up in his, too, on occasion. Didn't he ever click on one, just a little bit curious? 

What did he like? What did he want? What did he fantasize about? It was driving me crazy. 

We had been married three years, and John had never told me one fantasy. It wasn't like I hadn't asked. With the hope that he might reciprocate, I had told him several of my fantasies, whispering in the dark with my hand squeezing and tugging on his cock, trying to make him bolder, break down a few of his inhibitions. Still, he wouldn't talk. When I just came out and directly asked him who he fantasized about, he smiled and touched my cheek, and said, "You." 

Feh! I didn't believe it for a minute. Okay, not that it wasn't sweet, and not that I didn't like that he was fantasizing about me. But that couldn't be all he was thinking about, could it? If I had visions of firemen or Brad Pitt (or Angelina Jolie, for that matter) dancing through my head once in a while, then I couldn't believe he wasn't imagining something, too. Yet, I couldn't ever find evidence to the contrary. No magazines or videos, no telling Internet trail. I had never even seen or heard him stroking his cock. 

That was the strangest part. John didn't masturbate. We took showers together, so he didn't do it there. We slept in the same bed. He owned his own business, but there were no closed doors where he worked, aside from the bathroom. So where and how was he doing it? Of course, he claimed he didn't—but even the Kinsey Report said that 92% of males masturbate—and what was the old joke, the rest lied about it? I had a feeling John was lying. He was keeping something from me, and it felt like a really big secret. I hated it. 

So I started searching for evidence of his fantasy life. I checked his laptop Internet history whenever I could—I even bought a program to recover hidden files, but came up with nothing. I looked through his briefcase, hoping to find some sort of evidence of a fetish—I didn't care what it was—bondage, spanking, peeing, wearing rubber suits, having sex with dogs. I realized the irony of it, as I was going through his desk and computer at work after hours one night when he was on a business trip, that I was a wife looking for something most women would be appalled to discover about their husbands. 

Not that I thought that whatever John was fantasizing about would be extreme. He was an accountant, for Pete's sake—he played tennis and golf and liked watching hockey. If his name was "Joe," you could have put "average" in front of it without too much trouble. When I leveled with myself, I knew that his fantasies were probably pretty average, too— just the usual, tame lesbian and threesome kinds that every typical male had—it was the not knowing that made my imagination run wild. 

Why wouldn't he tell me? Was it so appalling? Was it disgusting? Was it illegal?

I had to know. 

I had pretty much given up on the whole thing, when I discovered the phone bill. John was Mr. Bills in our house. When they came in, I just threw them on his desk and didn't worry about it, because he always took care of them. That afternoon, the phone bill seemed—thicker than usual. My mother was having some issues last month, and I remembered calling Kentucky a few times to talk to her, but not enough to create a huge bill. Maybe I called her more than I thought?

I ripped the bill open, feeling guilty and wondering what John would say. I ran my finger down the list, looking for long distance calls. Yes, a few calls to my mother, but that was all. So why so many pages? I flipped through a few of the pages and discovered my answer. There was a separate section on the bill for "900-number" calls. There were dozens of them. The company name was listed as, "Continental Enterprises," but I checked the times:

2/04 2:12am 20 minutes 2/06 3:37am 14 minutes 2/08 4:28am 8 minutes 2/09 1:19am 29 minutes

It went on, dozens of calls, dozens of minutes. 

I had apparently neglected and underestimated my ability to sleep through anything. John was getting up in the middle of the night to make phone calls to sex lines! I sat there, my breath caught in my throat, my heart hammering in my chest. This is what I had been looking for—proof that the man of steel had a weak spot. The pages shook in my hands. It was just what I had wanted, and yet now part of me didn't want to know. 

My chest burned. He wasn't sharing his fantasies with me, but he was apparently sharing them with some sex phone operator who was probably some three-hundred pound housewife eating Doritos and Ho-Ho's and watching the soaps with the volume off while she fake-orgasmed for him! 

I sat there for a long time with the bill in my hand, thinking about what to do. I knew John. If I confronted him, he would either deny it, or he would simply clam up and not talk about it at all. I couldn't see how this was going to be helpful. I realized that I wasn't really offended by it—not in the way I would be if I found him cheating on me with another woman. He was just exploring his fantasies in a place where he felt safe. 

Yeah, ok, it hurt that he didn't feel safe enough with me, but I already knew that, right? Getting him to share that part of himself with me was like pulling teeth, and I didn't understand why, but now I knew, at least, that he actually had a part of him that fantasized, that he actually did masturbate. He was a flesh-and-blood man after all. So why did I feel so empty, sitting with the knowledge that I thought I had wanted to know?

Because I still didn't know what he was fantasizing about, I realized. That was the secret that I really wanted revealed. 

I looked at the open envelope, which meant that now John would know I had seen it. The minute he saw the open telephone bill, he would know. I folded the bill exactly as I had found it and put it back into the envelope. Then I went to the kitchen to dig through the junk-drawer and found a glue stick to rub along the flap of the envelope. Pressing my fingers along the edge, I made sure it was closed. It was a little wrinkled and torn, and that might stop him for a moment, but I doubted it. He usually tore through bills pretty fast.

I put the telephone bill onto his desk with the rest of that day's mail and left it. When he came home from work that night, I kissed him hello and asked him about his day, and we had a good dinner and snuggled on the couch for a while. The only thing I did differently that night was drinking an entire pot of black tea. When we climbed into bed, I rolled over and feigned sleep, but I stayed wide awake. Between the tea and the adrenaline, I couldn't possibly drift off, and I didn't.

I heard John fade in and out, something I normally don't get to hear. I was the one who always fell asleep first, usually within the first five minutes of my head hitting the pillow, and he always joked with me that I could sleep through a terrorist attack. John, however, took longer to settle in, pulling the covers, rolling around. 

I watched the light shadows play on the closet and waited. John fell asleep. I could hear the deep, even sound of his breathing. The clock read 1:39 a.m. In spite of the tea, my eyes were growing heavy. I realized, disappointed, that he wasn't going to make any calls tonight. I closed my eyes and started to drift, when I felt a small vibration on the bed. I held still, listening. 

There was a strange sound accompanying the vibration, a kind of shuffle or hiss that repeated itself in a pattern. Then it stopped. John shifted, and his breath was different. He wasn't sleeping anymore. The vibration started again, the mattress shaking a little more, and I heard John whisper something, his breath coming faster. My eyes widened and I felt a jolt of excitement run straight down my spine and right between my legs. John was masturbating!

I listened to the sound of his hand on his cock, the motion of the bed rocking me slightly. Did I sleep through this every night, I wondered? Listening to him was making me wet. He would stop for a moment, breathing hard, and then start again. I wondered what he was imagining. Once in a while I heard him whisper something and I strained to hear him.

"Yeah, spread your pussy," I heard him say. "Good girl."

I bit my lip, squeezing my legs together. My clit was throbbing, and I wanted to touch myself, but I didn't want to let him know I was awake. My hand was curled near my breast as I lay on my side, and I touched my nipple, grazing it lightly as I listened to him. He was pumping his cock hard now, the whole bed bouncing with his movements. He clearly wasn't worried that I might wake up—as I obviously never had before.

"Suck it," he whispered. "Take that cock, you dirty little whore." 

My face flushed and my clit throbbed in response to his words. Oh my god, John was imagining having his cock sucked by a dirty little whore! He had never said those words to me. I wondered if it was me he was thinking about, or if it was some woman he had seen, someone at work, some girl behind the counter who had caught his eye for a moment? Maybe the phone sex operator? The thought was darkly exciting. 

John hissed and I heard him stop touching himself abruptly. My pussy was soaked, and I squeezed my legs together again, aching for release. Had he cum? I was filled with disappointment. He didn't move for a moment, his breathing ragged, the bed still now. Then it started again, his hand working up and down his shaft, slow at first, then faster and faster. 

"Yeah, lick her pussy, baby," he whispered. 

My eyes widened and I squeezed my nipple hard at the words. Two women? The thought was exciting, but what was even better was the fact that John was thinking about it. This was one of his fantasies! 

I began to slide my hand down my side, trying not to move the covers or give him any indication I was awake. I had to touch myself. It was a long, slow process, an inch at a time, braving two or three inches when he was really getting into it, hoping he was too lost in the sensation to be thinking about me as I eased my hand down toward my wet pussy.

Finally, I was parting my lips, using just my index finger to rub over my aching clit as he pumped his cock. He was getting closer, I could tell, and the closer he got, the more he said. I strained to hear his whispered words.

"You want that in your ass? Take it!" I felt him thrust up a little, as if he were thrusting into something—or someone. Anal sex? We had never had anal sex. He hadn't ever expressed an interest. I had no idea. I rubbed my clit a little faster, aching to bury my fingers in my pussy but not daring to move any more than I already was. My belly was tight and my cheeks were red. 

I was so excited, that I could feel myself hovering just on the verge, and I slowed my finger down, just pressing my clit. I wanted to cum with him, if I could time it right. His hand was flying up and down his shaft now, the bed squeaking with the effort. I still couldn't believe I had slept through this on countless nights, believing he never masturbated. 

"Yeah, play with your tits," he whispered. "You want my cum in your ass?"

John's breath was coming very fast, his hand was moving like lighting over his cock, and his hips jerking and bucking against the bed. My finger was gliding back and forth against my clit again as I listened and tried to control my own breathing, my muscles growing tighter and tighter as I rubbed myself. 

"Take my cum, baby," he whispered, his body shuddering. "Take it all!"

I bit my lip to keep from moaning, feeling him thrusting up as he came. I nudged my clit over the edge to completion, feeling it begin to pulse with my climax, wave after wave shivering through me. I heard John take a few deep breaths, and then he got up and walked into the bathroom that was connected to our bedroom. 

I took a few moments to get my own breathing under control, snuggling deep under the covers and listening to the toilet flush, the water run. My heart was still pounding in my chest with the secret that I had discovered. John not only masturbated—he fantasized about everything from being with two women to anal sex! I wondered what else he imagined when he stroked his hard cock. I knew one thing—I was going to find out.

And I knew something else—I was going to have to start drinking a lot more black tea before bed! 

Bluebeard's Wife Ch. 02



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Click Here to listen. (20 min/mp3)

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Kelly and I met at the gym at nine. She was dragging her gym bag in one hand and three-year-old Taylor by the other, who was shuffling his feet and glowering at the floor. 

"I have to drop him off at the child care," she said, puffing a stray lock of red hair out of her eyes. Taylor's freckled nose turned up to me. He looked just like his mother. 

"I don't want to go," he pouted. 

"I'll meet you in the locker room, ok?" she said. I nodded, trying not to laugh as Kelly juggled everything all at once as she pulled open the door to the child care. 

I went into the women's locker room and put my gym bag down, starting to undress. I was pulling on my shorts when Kelly burst in, throwing her bag on the bench. 

"Now I know why you guys never had kids," she said, banging open a locker and unbuttoning her blouse. I sat on the bench, pulling a t-shirt over my head.

"Tara, if you don't wear a bra, that guy at the desk is going to spend the entire hour staring at you again," Kelly remarked, pulling off her blouse. I glanced down at my breasts. 

"Please." I rolled my eyes. "If I had yours, then I'd wear a bra."

"So, what could you not tell me on the phone?" Kelly asked, unzipping her slacks and sliding them down her full hips. 

"Oh, right." I glanced around. There was no one in our row of lockers, and someone was running a hair dryer around the corner. "It's about John."

"Yeah?" She slipped her t-shirt on, pulling her long hair out from under the collar. 

I had told Kelly about my search for John's fantasy life. "Well... I discovered the mystery."

"And?" She folded her clothes neatly and put them in her bag.

I took a deep breath. "John has been making calls to a phone sex line."

"You're kidding me? John?!" Kelly sat on the bench, her jaw dropped. "How do you know?"

I nodded, pursing my lips. "I found the phone bills."

"Were you mad?"

I shrugged. "A little. But my curiosity got the better of me."

Kelly grinned. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" I said. I bit my lip. "Ok, so I stayed up to hear him make a call."

"Did he?" she leaned forward, her eyes bright. 

"No, but I found out that I was wrong about him not..." I lowered my voice. "Masturbating."

"Really?" Kelly raised her eyebrows. "You caught him?"

I nodded. "He was doing it in the middle of the night. I guess I've just kind of slept through it."

Kelly snorted. "You definitely sleep like a woman who's never had kids."

"I'm not sure what to do," I confessed, standing up and putting my bag into the locker. 

"Well, I know what I would have done." Kelly winked as she stuffed her own back into a locker. 

"What?" I asked.

"I would have rolled over and helped him, dummy!" She laughed and poked me in the shoulder. 

I knew Kelly probably would have—but I had always been jealous of her sex life, ever since we started sharing details about our husbands. Chris was all about sharing fantasies with her, telling her what he wanted. She had told me about lots of times when she had dressed up for him, or different sexual things they had done that we hadn't even thought about. Ok, maybe I'd thought about them—and apparently, John had, too—we just hadn't ever talked about them. 

"I thought about it," I told her, remembering the slick sound of his hand stroking his cock, how exciting it had been to hear him. "But I was afraid—"

"Of what?" she asked, sitting down on the bench. 

"I guess I was afraid of scaring him off or something," I said with a shrug. "I mean, it's been three years, and he hasn't ever told me anything, Kel. Not one little fantasy. He wouldn't even admit he ever jerked-off! Maybe this way, I can actually find out what he's thinking."

Kelly raised her eyebrows. "What are you thinking about doing, Tara?"

I remembered the sound of John's hand on his cock, how excited it made me to listen to him, to hear his fantasies. 

"I'm going to wait for him to make a phone call."

*****

Kelly kept complaining about my pushing our morning gym date back. I couldn't help it. I was staying up until one or two in the morning and sleeping later and later. I knew I was lucky to have the free time I did. John worked hard, and his business was very successful. I was grateful that I could do my freelance work from home and not worry about it being a primary source of income. I should have been incredibly happy. 

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 were 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. 

"Ohhhh John, yesss," I moaned, feeling it begin, waves of pleasure overtaking me. "Ohhhhh."

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. 

Then 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," he groaned, and 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 cum!" 

"Me, too," I said, feeling 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 asked innocently. I knew, of course, but I wanted to hear him say it.

"You," he said, clearing his throat. "Asking me to put my finger... there."

"Did you like it?" I asked, rubbing my thigh over his.

"Did you?" he asked.

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. 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 "phone"? 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?" she asked.

John groaned. "Yeah, baby. Definitely knee socks."

"Have I been a bad girl, Daddy?" she asked. 

"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 felt 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, bend over, young lady," John said, his voice clear and demanding. I pulled the phone away from a moment to look at it, as if I could see him. This was 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 was coming faster as I listened to them both. I could close my eyes and see it. A part of me was protesting 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 did want 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 asked, panting. "You'll do whatever Daddy says?"

"Yes," she sniffed, as if she had been crying. "Anything, Daddy."

"Then get down here on your knees," he said. 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 cum 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 could hear 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 was throbbing 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 cum, you naughty girl," he moaned. "Are you ready?"

"Oh, yes, I'm gonna cum, too," she moaned. I wondered if she was touching herself like I was. The thought was exciting. "Cum in my mouth, Daddy!"

"Here it comes, baby girl," he growled, and I heard him begin to let go. "Take it! Swallow my cum!" 

"Oh, god, yesss," 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," John murmured, and I knew he was spent. "Did you cum good for Daddy?"

"Yes," she breathed. 

"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. 



Bluebeard's Wife Ch. 03



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Click Here to listen. (21 min/mp3)

* * * * *

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!" she said. I loved Caller I.D.

"Guess what I got today?" I was grinning, 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," I said. 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 sooo 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 said, picking up the phone. 

"Mmmmm! 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 asked, lowering her voice. "We can play together."

"Kelly!" I said again, feeling 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," she said. 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 said, sounding out of breath.

"Where are you?" I asked, rubbing 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 replied, sneaking 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," she said. 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 said, sounding breathless. "Now... you should be wet enough to slide it inside... are you?"

"Oh, yeah," I replied, tilting the vibrator and aiming the tip towards my pussy. "Are... are you?"

I heard her smile. "God, yes."

"Are you putting yours in, too?" My voice was moving 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."

I slid it in further, and the hummingbird's long slender bill, soft and jelly-like and vibrating furiously, rested right up against my clit. I pushed it in further, and the whole body, the wings spread, covered my clit. 

"Ohhhh Kelly," I moaned, rocking my hips a little. "You do it, too."

"I am," she whispered. "You can fuck yourself like this if you want—it feels really good. Just move it in and out."

I did, sliding the shaft through my wetness, moving the hummingbird over my clit again and again. My whole body felt flushed, and when I closed my eyes, I wondered what Kelly looked like, laying on her bed and fucking her pussy just like me.

"It gets better, though," she said.

"It can't," I breathed, fucking myself a little faster now. 

"You can make it go faster or slower, by pushing the buttons," she explained. "One controls the vibration. The other rotates the beads." 

I had forgotten about the beads. I pressed the other button on, and they began to rotate inside of me, slowly at first, then faster as I kept pushing and pushing the button. 

"Oh!" I cried, half in surprise, half in pleasure. They were moving around and around inside, touching me in places I didn't even know existed.

"Yeah," Kelly whispered, her breath coming even faster. "Do you like it?"

"Oh yes," I moaned, really rocking my hips now, the vibrator shoved all the way into me. 

"You can get really good, and learn to control it with one hand," Kelly murmured. "And then you can use your other hand to play with your nipples."

"Are you?" I whispered, imagining Kelly's full breasts, her pink nipples. 

"Yeah," she said. "Makes it that much better."

I tried it, shoving the vibrator into me with one hand, and moving my other hand over to tweak my hard nipples. I whimpered into the phone. "Ohhh, I really like that!"

Kelly was breathing really fast now, and I could just hear the buzz of her vibrator moving. "Tara," she whispered.

"Yes," I said.

"I'm really close," she panted. "Oh, it's so fucking good, honey!"

"Me, too," I breathed, grinding against the vibrator now, my hips lifting off the couch. "Oh, I'm almost there."

"Come on," she murmured. "I want you to come with me."

"Ohhh, now, now! Kelly, now!" I cried, my orgasm taking me by surprise, the force of it incredible, each spasm trying to force the vibrator out of me, but I held it in, riding it, bucking against it. I could hear her coming, too, moaning through the phone, and the sound of it was exciting—strange and familiar all at once.

I dropped the phone for a moment, and it fell between the couch cushions. My ears were ringing, and things looked fuzzy. I don't think I'd ever come so hard. I turned the vibrator off, my clit and pussy swollen, still feeling thick with it as I pulled it out. It was soaking wet with my juices and I rested it against my belly.

I dug for the phone, finding it and putting it back to my ear. I could hear Kelly still panting. "Oh baby, yeah, I love it hard," she whispered. I looked at the receiver for a moment. I knew she had come, I was sure of it—so what was she doing now?

"Ohhhh Tara," she murmured. "Don't stop. I'm gonna cum again."

My face—my whole body—felt like it was on fire listening to her. I could hear her vibrator still, the sound of her voice, her breath, all moving toward climax. Come again? More than once? I reached down and pressed my hand between my legs, everything there still throbbing with my orgasm. My clit felt too sensitive to touch. Still, it felt good, rubbing my hand over my mound. Maybe—?

"Ohhh fuck!" she moaned. "Oh, honey, I'm cumming again for you!"

"Yes," I whispered into the phone, closing my eyes and imagining her hips thrusting into the air, her hand working the vibrator between her legs, her hand cupping and kneading her breast. 

We were quiet for a moment, and I listened to her breathing return to normal, still keeping my hand between my thighs, covering my mound.

"Do you like your new toy?" Kelly asked.

I smiled. "I think I'm definitely gonna keep it."

"God, you were so hot," she whispered. "I was so turned-on."

"Me, too," I said, opening my eyes. "I can't wait to show John."

Kelly laughed. "I can't wait to hear about it!"

"Hey," I said. I felt shy now, somehow. I knew we'd crossed over some invisible line, but I didn't know what it meant. Talking about our sex lives was way different than doing what we just did. "Thanks for... um... showing me."

"My pleasure, sweetie," Kelly replied. "Anytime."

I wondered what she meant, if that was just a casual remark, but I didn't get a chance to ask.

"Listen, I have to go get Taylor from preschool. Call me tomorrow and tell me how it all goes?"

"I will," I said. We hung up. I picked up the vibrator, which was still glistening with my juices. I couldn't wait for John to come home.

Of course, we ended up having a fight. It was just some stupid thing, about who was supposed to bring the cans in on garbage day, but neither of us was in the mood to talk to each other let alone have sex by the time we climbed into bed. I just left my new toy tucked into my night table and didn't say anything about it. 

I fell right asleep, and probably would have slept the whole night through without hearing John, but I woke up from a dream about Kelly. It was almost like waking from a nightmare, jolted, eyes wide, but my hands were between my legs and my pussy was pulsing in response. I realized that it was a wet dream, and I remembered Kelly was lying on the bench in the locker room at the gym, her legs spread. I had her vibrator in my hand, and I was fucking her with it. She kept asking me to use my tongue, but I was afraid. 

I woke up hearing her moaning in my head as she climaxed, and realized that the bed was shaking—it wasn't just me. John was masturbating. I smiled, closing my eyes again, listening to his hand shuttle up and down his shaft. He was unaware of me, I knew. He was too used to me sleeping through it all.

"Oh, yeah, baby, spread that ass for me," he whispered. I closed my eyes, getting into his fantasy. My hand was still tucked between my legs, and I edged my finger between my lips as I listened to him, searching out my clit.

"Come on, let me lick it." His hand moved faster, the bed vibrating. The thought of John licking pussy from behind was exciting. "Let me shove my tongue in your ass."

My finger froze against my clit and I think I even stopped breathing. Where was he imagining putting his tongue? His breathing was very fast, and I heard him grunt and stop moving. I knew, from listening to him before, that he hadn't come. He waited a few moments, and I listened to his breath slow while I nudged my clit with my finger, thinking about what I'd just heard. 

His hand started moving again, and I strained to hear him whispering in the dark. My finger was rolling around my clit now, rubbing it in circles. 

"You want that tongue, baby?" he murmured. "I love your little asshole."

I found myself aching to play with my new toy, to feel it filling me again, that heavenly vibration running all through me. Of course, I couldn't do that and still hear John. I remembered what Kelly had said at the gym, about "rolling over and helping him." 

"Yeah, yeah, that's it," he moaned, and I could hear that his cock was slick. 

I rolled toward him and I heard him stop. He was trying to control his breathing. I waited for a moment and he started again, whispering something else I couldn't hear. My pussy was aching, and I edged a little closer to him, touching my legs and feet to his.

He stopped again, turning his head toward me. "Tara?" he whispered.

"Yeah," I murmured, sliding a hand over his hard, flat belly under the covers. His hand was still wrapped around his stiff cock and I moved my hand over his, sliding up and down. "Don't stop."

"I—" he started to say something but I leaned over and licked his nipple.

"I love listening to you touch yourself," I whispered, tracing circles in the dark. 

He moaned, his hand moving again, moving my hand with his, up and down his shaft. 

"That's so hot," I whispered. "You make me so wet."

He groaned again, turning his face to me and searching for my mouth. I kissed him, our tongues mingled wetness and heat.

"I want to show you something," I said, leaning over and pulling open my night table drawer. I found the vibrator, and switched on the low light next to the bed. John was squinting at me, and I smiled as I turned back to him, holding my toy.

His jaw dropped. Then he grinned. "Wow."

"Do you wanna watch me play?" I asked, pressing the button and making the little hummingbird vibrate. "You can play, too, while you watch me. Maybe we can cum together."

His eyes went from me to the vibrator. "Yeah."

I leaned back, my pussy facing him, lifting my t-shirt so he could see. He rolled onto his elbow, and the sheet slipped off his hips, and I could see his hand moving slowly up his shaft. 

"This part vibrates," I explained. "This little bird." I pressed it to my clit, turning it up a little higher and moaning. "And when you put it inside," I said, sliding the pink tip deep into me. "It rests right against my clit."

"Nifty invention," he breathed. "How long have you had it?"

"It came this afternoon," I replied, starting to move the vibrator in my pussy. I watched John's eyes. He was transfixed, his hand moving faster over his cock.

"Mmm, and did you come this afternoon, too?" he asked.

"Yes." I flushed, remembering Kelly. "But there's more," I said.

"Does it slice and dice, too?" He grinned at me and I giggled.

"If I press this button, these little beads rotate," I said, turning it on and feeling them beginning to move inside of me. The sensation was incredible and I moved my hips with it. 

"Damn," John whispered as he watched me. "That's hot."

"It makes me cum really hard," I whispered, moving it deeper inside of me, pressing the vibrating hummingbird close so the wings spread wide over my clit. 

"Lemme see," John murmured, watching my hand working between my legs. My eyes drifted to his cock, the tip red and wet with pre-cum, his hand pumping it faster now. 

I edged the vibrator up a notch, using one hand while I tugged at my nipples with the other. John groaned, his hand flying over his cock now, as I thrust my hips up, moaning and grinding.

"Oh, god," I said, seeing him jerk his cock through half-closed eyes. "Oh, I'm gonna cum!"

"Yeah," he breathed. "Oh fuck, Tara! You're so hot!"

"Ohhhhhh!! Yes, yes! Oh, John!" I came hard, bucking my hips and fucking myself deep with the toy. John grunted, his cock spasming in his hand as he came, waves of hot cum bursting from the tip and running down the shaft.

I slid the vibrator out of my pussy, and John reached for it. He looked at it from a few angles, turning it over in his hand.

"That was a surprise," he said, his eyes slipping back down to my wetness.

"A good surprise?" I asked, sitting up on my elbows and looking at him. He nodded, smiling, reaching for me, and I went to him. 

"You really like hearing me jerk-off?" he asked after a moment. 

I nodded against his chest. "I've been listening at night," I admitted. "Sometimes I touch myself, too."

"Really?" he asked, sounding shocked. I just nodded again. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

I looked at the vibrator in his hand and smiled.

He didn't know the half of it.