Playing Maid

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2020 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: MF; MF/m; sex; rom; cuckold; cons; X

Part 1: The Mulligan

...The old saying "Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it!" certainly came to mind with my request for less than gentle treatment from my masculine lover Jim - he himself a neighbor that had easily dominated my submissive husband before eventually claiming my body and heart as his. Recently divorced Jim - and I - had temporarily repurposed my husband as our chauffeur as Jim courted me on three alone dates, my foolish husband suggesting and even manipulating me into this adultery for reasons that defy logic, at least on casual inspection. Jim had then made sure we wouldn't be disturbed by busying him with several tasks not necessarily suited to a chauffeur, our need for one going forward now suspect. For that alone I would have willingly done anything Jim could dream up, even without the promised over the top passion such a man could provide...

Between kisses Jim whisked me into his powerful arms as if I were a doll, one high heel flying off in the process as he carried me toward the stairs, and I presumed his bed. Ironically enough, the passion for me at that moment in time couldn't have been any higher, my "take me I'm yours" body language impossible to miss, especially for a man like Jim. Anything I had to offer was his for the asking, and in all reality, he didn't need to ask...

This however was the same bed that he had undoubtedly made love to his former wife Sheila countless times back in their happy years, and as Jim carried me toward it my mood started to cool, as if walking down into a cold and damp basement alone at night while under dressed. It was inexplicable, the closer we got, the more the feeling grew, as if Sheila herself could somehow be there in the flesh just waiting for us, perhaps with harsh words for the man stealer she likely believed me to be, or maybe just with a silent angry stare for the both of us...

I suddenly felt... apprehensive - although that isn't perhaps the best word - to consummate my love for Jim on this particular bed at this particular moment. Was I freely offering my body as a small token of my love for him, or instead taunting Sheila's memory by potentially planting the proverbial flag of our combined passionate biological mess where Sheila's once likely lay?

...No matter the answer one thing for certain was that Sheila - or at least her memory - was living inside my proverbial head "rent free." Certainly once I was actually inside what was at one time her bedroom, with the man who was once her husband...

What had that woman ever done to me? I asked myself, reasonably, as my hot passion further cooled; with the nagging distant thought that challenging the memory of Jim's former wife and my neighbor in any way carried with it a certain level of risk. Perhaps at some distant level I was upset at the way she had poisoned Jim, attempting to ruin his confidence by telling him he was nothing more than a selfish barbarian. Maybe in more shallow and self serving form I merely didn't want to give Jim a single reason to have any second thoughts; as to Sheila, her voluptuous body and radiated confidence made me feel suddenly insignificant in comparison, most especially in what was once her bedroom too.

...My thoughts were obviously a jumbled mess on the subject of Sheila in general, but I dared not bring them up to Jim as they would surely ruin his mood, just as they were ruining mine...

Once at Jim's bed he placed me down on it, taking the time to actually unbutton my dress rather than tearing from my body, as he had passionately done to my expensive blouse the day before. I assumed that this meant he liked this dress, or perhaps he just wanted me to have something to wear when we walked to my own house across the street later on while the neighbors surely peeked. Maybe though, the passion of the moment for him wasn't as high as it had been for me seconds before...

"Shall we push your boundaries my pet?" Jim asked between gentle kisses as he stripped me naked.

"Please do Sir!" I replied, thinking to myself, Let's get this show on the road already before I lose the mood completely!

"Do you remember that word?" Jim prodded softly.

I closed my eyes and kissed him back deeply by way of an answer. Could he not see that I didn't want to talk right now? Could wise and worldly Jim possibly NOT realize that his words were derailing this charging freight train of lust I was still trying to ride?

But those thoughts of mine were selfish and self serving, and Sheila called him the barbarian! It was this room and this bed I concluded a few moments later, Jim was like my Superman, but this particular bed, for some reason, was his kryptonite!

Here was perhaps the lacking confidence Jim was purported to have, back when I got talked into dating him at the beginning of this adventure in infidelity. Confident and powerful Jim suddenly wasn't, but he needed me in that instant, and there was no way on earth that I was going to let him down, mood or no mood!

Everybody has an off day, but just imagine if we had first made love - or attempted to - on this bed initially. His hesitation with me would have wrecked his confidence, and would have been the catalyst that activated this latent poison Sheila had planted within him, and there was no way I was going to let that happen either.

Did this also mean that my husband might have been partially right what felt like so long ago when he had suggested that Jim needed these "dates" with me?

"Take what you want and stop asking for what's already yours!" I commanded, my mood almost already completely shot, but his possibly still salvageable.

Then Jim and I did the deed, or more accurately, Jim sated his male biological needs with my body, as nothing more than a convenient place to dump his seed. This was so passionless and far from what we had done together in the hotel room on two separate nights that it was hard to believe it was the same man. A good part of this was my fault, to be sure, and the best two things I could say about the experience was that at least it was over quickly, and one of us obviously managed to get off...

Jim's bed, just like Jim himself, was more than it appeared. I had seen it before, but I had never given it a serious second thought. It's massive oak construction was in a way parallel to Jim's own massive muscular construction, at least in my mind's eye. A bed fit for the man who owned it, I thought, it's massive thick headboard having odd half circle hole designs, one half of the half circles located at the level of the mattress, one on either side of a larger one dead center of the king sized mattress.

Two feet up from the half circles were a second set of complimentary half circles, and separating them in between was more heavy oak, several inches thick. There were others as well, but I didn't notice any of them at the time for what they were, due to their placement, and the fact that I was preoccupied with a host of jumbled thoughts in my head.

It was an odd custom design to be sure, the entire bed likely weighing several hundred pounds, the foot board as well having two heavy posts incorporated into its design and more half circles, most certainly all placed to counterbalance the massive piece of furniture and stop it from moving when the occupants thrust about on its surface. Such a design seemed logical with what I knew about Jim's manly aggressions, but there was more to this bed's unique design...

At that moment though Jim's bed was just a bed - although one that likely reminded both of us of Sheila in one form or another - and just a place to lay down and have some adult interaction. Calling this making love did not seem appropriate though.

I then came to the conclusion that I shouldn't be treating Jim like a human amusement park ride, and that possibly not everything with him could be over the top, never experienced before, rip my clothes off sex. There was more to a relationship than just great sex anyway; mutual respect, fun interactive conversations, complimentary personalities that click... and last but not least, trust. That was the deal breaker that my husband had stumbled into, almost anything else forgivable to me given enough time.

Laying on that bed afterwards I did nothing to stop the flow of Jim's significant mess onto the bedspread, I - not so playfully - thinking in my bitter I didn't even get to cum this time frame of mind, that cleaning this up would be a good job for our new maid. While Jim was in the shower I even sat up with my legs splayed obscenely and forced the mess from my body in shameless form, contracting those particular muscles repeatedly and pumping it out of me while thinking that our maid would surely be getting her fantasy cuckold experience tenfold now. Jim came in what felt like quarts as compared to my husband's insignificant little squirt, millions of nice and healthy little swimmers all trying to get the proverbial job done, all while Jack's were apparently absent, or too lazy, or whatever was wrong with them that he had lied to me about years prior.

...Jack had claimed that his doctor had conducted a test, and had then told him that his hardware was fine, and by implication mine was somehow defective. I believed him at the time and could live with this, and I did, throwing myself into work with the traditional family option apparently not an option. Fate can be cruel, I reasoned, not knowing at the time that Jack's lie was far more so. The details of how I had discovered this lie are unimportant at the moment, but sufficient to say that birth control methods of any kind were unnecessary between Jack and I back when we were actually making love in somewhat traditional ways.

Not likely so with Jim - statistically speaking - and knowing where this little adventure in infidelity was possibly heading I had my doctor prescribe the little day of the month pills I was currently taking just in case, the ones presently in my luggage that our brand new maid would be unpacking, or perhaps already had.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall when he found those, I thought with what felt like an evil smirk on my face, my mood still sour. What would be his reaction when he discovered that I had discovered his other treachery? First this, and then that second key, an obvious pattern now emerging in my mind. Such irony, one he couldn't dare comment on finding, the other he couldn't dare admit to losing... once I eventually found it!

Jack's useless - for making babies - man hardware locked up and inert in a tiny glass chastity device, possibly permanently once I found that little second key, and Jim's free to go and do as he pleases, as often as he pleases - even if I'm suddenly not really into it. This still fell well short of a "pity fuck", something I had given a man one time back in the day... and had instantly regretted it afterwords.

My bitchy mind wandered further to a permanently feminized version of Jack the maid, except for that missing second key and his go-nowhere job most of the elements were already in place. If he were ever going to use his safe word with Jim and bail out on this adventure it would have been an hour earlier in the driver’s seat of Jim's SUV, I rationalized. He couldn't do it though, his locked up useless manhood somehow preventing it. That was HIS kryptonite, permanently attached (if I could arrange it), and apparently always active...

"Not my best work," was Jim's self-deprecating critique of his lovemaking when he joined me again in his bedroom fresh from the shower. The look on his face earlier when he had finished using me had been one of disappointment, but not with me.

"No, but I didn't use my special word either, did I?"

"True, but I don't ever want to do that again."

"How about we pretend like it never happened?"

"Like a Mulligan?"

"A what?"

"In casual golf if you miss a stroke or can't find your ball you can claim 'a Mulligan' to keep the game flowing, if everybody playing agrees. It means 'we'll just pretend between us that it never happened.'"

"Any idea why?" I asked, meaning why was it called a Mulligan.

"It's this bed, but it's a long story." Jim answered the question I had wanted to ask though, and not the one I thought I had.

"It's just a bed," I said dismissively, even though it had obviously affected me as well. This I deemed a lie, to Jim, but I thought it a reasonable one at the time all things considered.

"Oh, it's most certainly NOT just a bed..!"


Continues in

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