Chapter #27A Change of Routine by: Seuzz   Your husband looks uncharacteristically nervous as he comes into the bedroom.
Because of course he isn't your husband. Just as you are not his wife.
"So, I forgot to ask," he says without quite meeting your eyes. "Do these two sleep in the same bed?"
"Yeah," you grunt.
Okay." His unease visibly deepens. "What's he wear? Pee-jays?"
"Shorts."
His eyes widen. They widen again after you extract some skimpy black workout shorts from the dresser, and toss them to him.
"Maybe I should sleep on the sofa," he mutters as he fingers them.
After a short hesitation, he starts for the bedroom door.
And almost you let him pass.
But then you stop.
"Do you think Shannon Welch is sexy?" you ask.
His jaw drops. "Guh?" he says.
"I don't especially like being this girl," you say as you draw close to him. "But I like this body. It's got breasts, it's got tits. It comes with a pussy." Caleb whitens. "She doesn't like doing things with them. But I kind of want to. Probably," you admit, "because she doesn't."
You pull yourself close to him.
"Besides," you add, "you've been making noises ever since we started this about wanting to do something."
You put your mouth close to his.
"So do you? Now's your chance."
* * * * *
He is a lot slower and a lot more tentative with you than he ever was with Shannon. For a start, he takes the bottom, which Stephan rarely did. But his body responds as it should to your caresses as you hunch over his meaty torso, kissing him in the crook of his neck and gripping and squeezing his lats. His cock, which is long and thick like a kielbasa, rises and bobs against your ass cheeks. But he himself is uncertain what to do, and his hands, which would usually busy themselves at half-a-dozen places on your body, limply grip your sides, and his own kisses are tentative. Even when you push a firm breast into his face, he is slow to take it in his mouth, and he suckles at it like a child instead of nursing and teasing it.
Finally, though, when you sense that he is ready for the climax, you straddle his waist and with one hand slowly guide his member into you, and gently mount yourself on it. His face twists with an agony of pleasure, and his back arches. You gasp and pant as your own tender and throbbing tissues are forced apart, and your eyes briefly cross as a quick jolt rattles your guts. He is thick and he is hard, and he is thickening and hardening still inside you as you sink more firmly onto him, until he is wedged all the way up and inside you. Rhythmically, you begin squeeze and pull at him, and the bed squeaks and jounces as he rises and falls in a sympathetic rhythm of his own. He fumbles for and grabs your hands, supporting you from below almost as a gymnast would.
His face turns very red, and he clenches his eyes shut, and you have the sudden thought, This isn't Stephan. He was in charge but he's not in charge anymore, I'm in charge. I gave him to someone else, someone else gets to be Stephan now, but I'm in charge of him.
The thought fills and pleasures you, like another cock.
It's a new Stephan and he's under me, and I'm in charge of him, I'm in charge of the new Stephan, I'm in charge ... in ... charge—!
With a shriek you erupt in an orgasm. It's like a low, tearing scream that rips from your cunny up your backbone, and through the back of your throat. Oh, God! you roar, and drive yourself down as hard as you can on the upthrusting bone. You shudder and shake as you shriek, and the flesh threatens to quiver and slip like loose meat off your bones.
Then, just as the boiling fit is passing, Stephan erupts within you, almost lofting you off the bed in the fury of his spent. You twine fingers with his, clutching in a death grip as he bucks and rockets from below. Secondary shudders, like aftershocks from a deep quake, ripple through you. When he is done, you fall forward bonelessly, to splay yourself on his chest with your nose in the crook of his shoulder. He crushes you to him.
* * * * *
You're woken the next morning by the once-familiar sensation of being cuddled and suffocated by Stephan's arms and face. He is lying half atop you, one arm under your shoulders, the other under your legs, and his face in yours with lips snuffling at your mouth, cheeks, nose and eyes. The hair on his chest scratches your bare breast.
For a moment it's as though time has slipped and you are a newlywed again, but then you remember when and where and who you are, and you thrash him off.
"Stop it, man," you snap.
"Oh, come on," he chortles as he leans in to paw at you some more. "I got wake-up wood."
"Then take it in the bathroom and beat it out!" You shove him back and sit up to glare down blearily at him.
Oh fuck, you think as he smirks up at you from under heavy-lidded eyes. He's back. And he thinks he's going to start getting lucky again. Even as you glower at him, his lip curls and he reaches up to caress your cheek.
You slap him away.
"Stop it," you say. "Last night was last night, but this morning is— Oh, and I guess you and Stephan got acquainted during the night."
"Mmm?" he says. Then: "Oh. Sure. I guess." His smirk deepens. "Been a long time since we—" He reaches for your breasts with both hands, but you roll away out of bed.
"Well, don't get used to it," you retort as you sweep a filmy dressing robe off the chair next to the bed. "Last night was last night," you continue as you pull it on and push the hair from your eyes. "And besides, last night I wasn't doing anything with Stephan Welch. I was doing it with the guy who's taking his place."
"Makes me feel even more special," he says with a knowing leer. "And I can do a better job of it, too." He twists around to glance at the digital clock on the bed stand. "Come on," he says as he turns back to reach for you. "We got twenty minutes before the alarm goes off. "That's ten minutes for me, and ten minutes for—"
"No!" You slap his hand away.
He grins. "Why not? I made you scream last night. Don't want to—" He clutches the sheet that entwines his engorging member. "Feel great again?"
"Get this, man," you sigh. "You wanna do it some more, okay, we'll do it some more. But!" You shove a stiff finger into his grinning face. "I'm doing it with you, Caleb, not this ape! And you're not doing it with Shannon," you continue, even though you know it's going to come out all wrong, "you're doing it with me!"
He howls with laughter as, crimson-faced, you storm into the bathroom to start getting ready for the day.
* * * * *
But life at the Welches has seemingly returned to normal. Anyway, you come downstairs at the usual time that Shannon Welch comes down, dressed in her usual work outfit of creamy slacks, white blouse, navy blazer, and low-slung heels, to find Stephan, in his usual early-morning dress of t-shirt and track pants, just getting your breakfast ready. The Welches may only be roommates rather than married partners these days, but they have a routine and they stick to it. That includes Stephan, whose classes this semester don't start until ten, getting Shannon out the door by seven-forty-five.
Caleb has settled not only into routine, but something like character, for he sets your plate of scrambled egg whites, peaches, and toasted half bagel on the table in front of you without a word before retreating back into the kitchen. You also start to lapse into character by setting your tablet up in front of you and opening it to the news sites.
But then you turn and call into the kitchen: "Can you come sit down so we can talk?"
So he settles in next to you, cocking his head back and smirking at you languidly with a soft mouth and heavy-lidded eyes behind his glasses.
"I don't want us to do the usual routine with these two, okay?" you tell him. "That's what last night was about. About not doing the usual."
"So you don't want me fixing you breakfast?"
"Don't be a shit, Caleb. Stephan's a shit, and Shannon thinks he's a shit, only she's too miserable and scared to say so." Or even to really think so, you reflect. "Do your 'smartest person in the world' routine up at the college, but don't do it with me. And yes, I'll help with breakfast."
"Uh huh," he says. "Do I get to do everything else up at the college that he does?"
You feel your guts tighten. "Which is what?"
"Getting the occasional blow job from one of the grad students."
"Oh, fuck me!" you gasp. "I knew it!"
"You told me you thought he—"
"Yes, fine! And then you're gonna come home and we're gonna work on— Stuff!"
"Sure," he says in that insufferably agreeable way that Stephan has when he doesn't give a shit and so is willing to go along with you.
"And sometimes we're going to switch masks."
"What?" he says. You thought that would get his attention.
"Yeah! So don't get too comfortable in that thing, cocksucker. We're not going to do anything that you won't want done to yourself."
He makes a face.
"Fine," he says. "Do you wanna switch now? This morning?"
"You won't have time to get ready for school."
"Westside, I can call in sick and stay home, get a head start on working on the spells some more."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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