Taking Charge Pt. 06

I didn't answer him. I headed for my bathroom for a shower. When I realized Jake was chasing me, I ran. I'm not sure why I ran. I wasn't afraid or anything like that. I guess it was a power play. I knew Jake wanted to take me again, but in a way, I was denying him by running. Of course, he caught me in the bathroom, his big body pressing against my back while his arms wrapped around me and his hands mauled my breasts and vagina.

"We're going to play a game today," he told me, sucking on my neck while turning to face me towards the wall and pushing me against it.

I reached up behind me and dug my fingers into his hair, pulling. "What game?"

One of his hands left me, and he moved away slightly, then his fat crown was pressing against my wet opening and pushing inside, pushing and pushing and pushing until every last inch of him was buried in my body.

"I'm going to try to come inside you, and you can stop me or not."

"No, Jake," I told him vehemently, though it probably came out as a whimper, because he was fucking me yet again, pushing and pulling that fat dick back and forth through my overfilled femininity. I tried to get my hands on his hips to push him away, but he grabbed my wrists and pulled them above my head, pressing my palms against the wall.

"I can't help it, Becca," he said huskily, gliding his palms down my arms to fill his hands with my breasts. "You feel too fucking good."

His hips were pumping back and forth, colossal cock just relentlessly ripping up into me over and over again. My legs grew so weak that I had to grab the towel rack to remain standing.

"Oh God," I moaned, feeling yet another climax building inside me.

"You were made to fuck, do you know that?"

"Jake."

Pushing and pulling, thrusting and pounding, obscenely wide crown pulling back to the very mouth of my vagina before carving back into me.

"You're meant to be a mother, Rebecca," he said, pulling my hair aside to kiss and nibble on the back of my neck. "This body is meant to take a man's seed, to create a life, to bring it into this world."

I cried out, body and soul perched on the edge of oblivion, so very close.

"I can help you with that," he said, groin slapping against my ass, cock drilling up inside me again and again. "I'd do that for you. I'd do that for him too."

God, I was just so very close, almost too close to stop him. If I came, I wouldn't be able to stop him. I'd come and come and come while he filled me up with his seed. "Jake, please."

"Goddamn, so fucking good."

He throbbed, jerked, swelled. It was coming. He was going to do it.

"Please!"

"He wants this, Becca," Jake groaned, sinking his teeth into my shoulder and then adding, "He wants kids."

And just like that, I was nowhere near close to coming. My eyes flew open and my body stiffened. I was dimly aware of Jake saying that he was more than willing to help Ryan and I have kids, that it would make things better, bring us closer, that he wanted to help, that he wanted Ryan and I to be happy. He loved Ryan, and he respected him, despite Ryan's doubts about his manhood.

It almost clicked into place, what was wrong with our marriage, why Ryan wasn't fucking me, why he was so distant. But then it was gone, the thought, the suspicion, before it could fully form. Jake's cock was swelling again, so very long and so very hard and just so very fucking big. He was growling. He was coming.

I managed to yank my hand out from under his. I grabbed the towel rack and jerked myself up the wall while wrapping my other hand around his cock to stop him. My shoulder banged against the towel rack, hard, but I'd deal with the bruising later. Right now, I needed his cock out of me. I managed it, just barely. His tremendous crown popped out of me and there was a huge hot splash between my legs. Jake slapped his hands against the wall and I twisted around, almost falling to the floor, but I got ahold of his dick and finished him with both hands, massive globs of semen flying everywhere, making an absolute mess of us and the bathroom.

Jake was true to his word. He fucked me four more times that Saturday, five, if I count the after-midnight deep dicking he snuck in while I was asleep. He didn't come every time, of course, but when he did, he tried to do it inside me. Somehow, I'd managed to fight him off each time.

When Sunday morning rolled around, I was very tender down there. God, what woman in my situation wouldn't be? Jake was still asleep in his room, so I started coffee and took a shower. The hot water took out most of the ache from my limbs -- Jesus, he'd really worked me over yesterday -- but the Advil I took later fixed me right up. I was sitting on the patio with my coffee and laptop when Jake came out with his own cup.

"Can I ask you a favor?" he said, taking a seat. His eyes twinkled when he saw that I was wearing his collar, and nothing else, as he'd instructed.

My thighs automatically pressed together and I narrowed my eyes skeptically.

He laughed. "Nothing untoward. You deserve a rest today."

Thank God! "Okay. What then?"

"I have a job interview on Thursday."

My eyebrows went up. "Doing what?"

"Commercial real estate," he shrugged, sipping his coffee. "The market isn't nearly as booming as it was before, but it's better than residential at the moment. Strange gig though." He shook his head and took another sip of coffee. "Real estate is like sex for me. Do 'em and leave 'em."

I made a face and he chuckled.

"Anyway, this job isn't just selling property. After I sell something, I become the property manager."

"Like a landlord?"

He shrugged. "Sort of. Anyway, I need a new suit. Mind helping me out?"

"Sure, Jake," I agreed readily. I knew he wasn't particularly happy with his current job. He was surprised that he enjoyed landscaping, but the money wasn't anywhere close to what he was making before.

He smiled warmly. "Thanks, Becca."

We sat in silence for a while, Jake looking off at nothing in particular, me fiddling around on my laptop.

"Anything interesting?" he asked.

I blushed.

"Oh," he said, leaning over with a broad grin. "It must be interesting if you're blushing."

I sighed and composed myself, brushing hair out of my face that the wind had just whipped up. "If you must know, I'm researching sexual positions that I'm not familiar with."

His eyebrow went up. "Really? Such as?"

I shrugged. "Like the one we did yesterday morning."

He gave me a leering smile. "Ah, yes. That's a good one."

"Well, what is it? I can't seem to find it online."

"Beats me. I don't remember all the names. Closest that comes to mind is Basset Hound."

"Basset Hound?"

He grinned again. "Look it up."

I did, and about ten seconds later, I was blushing. It was more or less the position that I'd been in, the woman on all fours, legs spread wide and hands forward, so that her body was low. "Oh my," I said quietly.

Jake chuckled. "If you like that, check out Pearly Gates."

I looked it up too. The man was on his back with his knees up, and the woman was on top of him, with her back to him and her legs outside of his. Her arms were stretched out to her sides. All of her weight was resting on him. The picture illustrated the easy access the man had to the woman's body. His hands were free to roam, while she was more or less helpless. He had freedom of movement, but she didn't.

"Wow," I breathed.

"Yeah, I like that one," Jake chuckled. He patted his washboard stomach through his shirt. "Requires good abs though, but no problem here."

I grinned crookedly, amused by his confidence. "I imagine not."

"Wanna try it?" he asked, bouncing his eyebrows.

I laughed. "Not today, thank you very much."

Out of the blue, he said, "Ryan's favorite is the Jellyfish."

A huge wave of guilt crashed over me and I gave him a sharp look. Here we were, having a fun time, just talking and joking and teasing, and he had to drag reality into it. God, why had he said that? I felt horrible, for what we were talking about and what I had done with him. Jake was entirely unaffected though.

"You should look it up," he said quietly, then he got up and went inside.

I slapped my laptop shut and sat there fuming for a few minutes. Jesus, Jake! Really? Why did he have to go and ruin the fantasy? Sure, I was having an affair, cheating on my husband, but God, to just throw it in my face!

Well, okay, he hadn't reallythrown it in my face, but still, my time with Jake had become its own little world, a separate reality, and he'd just shattered it.

Eventually, I calmed down. I was going to go inside, but curiosity got the better of me. I opened the laptop and looked up the Jellyfish. It was a very interesting position, and the picture was animated. The man was on his knees on the bed, legs slightly spread. The woman was kind of squatting over him. Their arms were wrapped around each other and their bodies were pressed together. Neither of them had to move very much, just a slight rocking of the hips. It was incredibly intimate, a position I could never do with Jake, because it was for making love, not fucking. The next thing I knew, I was crying. I stroked my fingertips down the screen. This was exactly what I wanted with Ryan, closeness, intimacy, love, and I didn't have it. I cried for what seemed like an unbearably long time, so long that my cheeks were liberally streaked with tears, and my neck and chest weren't spared either.

I didn't want Jake to see me like that, so I poked my head inside. I heard him in the shower and couldn't help but wonder if his timing was intentional, if he knew his parting comment would make me break down. Retreating to my bathroom, I let the rest of the tears flow. I sat on the lid of the commode and just cried and cried, gut wrenching, snot-flowing sobs. By the time I had worked it out of me, I was a mess.

I was cleaning myself up when I realized the strangest thing. I hadn't been crying because of the affair with Jake. I had yet to instigate anything, but I'd been letting him fuck me for a while now. For me, it was just sex, nothing more, a means to scratch an itch. It no longer felt like a betrayal. Ryan had distanced himself from me, had left me almost entirely alone, which was worse than leaving me unsatisfied from a sexual standpoint. Far worse, really. That was the real betrayal in our marriage, Ryan giving up on it, or more specifically, on us. Sure, he went through the motions, being a technical husband, I guess, but he wasn't my partner anymore. What I was doing with Jake was just something that needed to be done. I needed to know what I was missing, if I could live without it if I decided to stay with Ryan.

Maybe I was just trying to justify my actions, but honestly, that's how I felt. Besides, what I wanted most from my marriage wasn't great sex, although it certainly wouldn't hurt if I had it. No, what I wanted was my husband back. I wanted those quiet nights when we would cuddle, when we would tell each other our secrets. There used to be times when I was feeling randy but Ryan was just too tired, but he would still help me out with his long and skillful fingers, kissing my face and neck or back and shoulders while he brought me with his hands. Afterwards, he would just hold me close, arms wrapped around me until I dozed off. I missed that more than anything, knowing he cared.

A knock at my bathroom door startled me.

"Becca?" Jake called through the door.

"Yes?"

"How does eleven sound? We can take care of the suit thing and then grab lunch."

I blew my nose and nodded to myself in the mirror. "Sure, Jake."

The worst part about all of this was what would inevitably come later. What would happen when Jake finally got back on his feet? Eventually, he was going to leave. He'd find his own place and I would be left with Ryan, with a sexless marriage. What would I do then? Would I go so far as to plan illicit rendezvous with Jake? Would I leave the house under the pretense of shopping, meeting my friends, or doing volunteer work just to scratch that itch inside me with Jake? Somehow, that seemed too much, too far. Once Jake left, the affair would be over. I just couldn't take it that far.

But what then? I had to figure this out with Ryan. I had to get my husband back. I just didn't know how.

Jake was going to look amazing in his suit, once it was properly tailored. We'd gone with a dark blue pinstripe, three piece and no tie, and brown shoes. Jake didn't know it, but I'd been inspired by one of my favorite TV shoes, The Mentalist. I'd chosen a suit that made him look like a bigger, buffer version of Patrick Jane. He looked incredible, really.

We had a nice lunch later on, neither of us talking much, but when we did, it was light and casual, about nothing in particular. Jake's sense of humor drew me out of my funk rather effectively. When we got home, the back door was still swinging shut when Jake began to pull my top off. He undressed me right there in the foyer.

"Sorry," he murmured, grinning up at me while kneeling and taking off my shoe. "It's only been a couple of hours since I saw you naked, but I just can't wait."

To my surprise, I didn't blush at the compliment. I didn't even blush when he knelt in front of me and pulled off my tight jeans, my smoothly waxed mound inches away from his face. He stood back up, running his hands up the curves of my body, and I felt my insides flush with damp heat. Jake put my collar back on. Unfortunately, I was still very tender, so when my insides tightened at the same time the clasp of the collar clicked into place, it brought a twinge of discomfort with it.

Smiling down at me, Jake kissed the corner of my mouth, then he took my hand and led me into the living room. He queued up a movie and we relaxed on the couch, lying on our sides with my back tucked against his chest. With him fully clothed and me naked as the day I was born, I felt like a pet lovingly snuggled up to its owner.

Jake more or less left me alone the rest of the day, though his hands were all over me, tenderly caressing me, petting my hair. It was like he was reminding me that I wasn't alone, that someone cared, desired me.

At the end of the day, he took me to bed with him, wrapping his arms around me and once again pulling my back against his chest. I woke up feeling renewed, ready to face the day. Jake's massive erection was pressed between the cheeks of my butt, long and thick and hot and just so very hard. I was still tender down there, but nowhere near as bad as the previous day. In fact, I found myself hoping that Jake would find himself in a mood when he woke up. He was fast asleep though.

Still, I couldn't help but encourage him to wake up, flexing my butt around his cock and pressing it into him just a little. Jake stirred awake and tightened his arms around me, then thrust his hips, pressing his morning wood into my ass.

"Morning," he murmured.

I smiled to myself. "Good morning, Jake."

He pushed his nose into my hair and took a deep breath, then he scooted away and rolled me onto my back. I looked up into his big blue eyes as he propped himself up on his elbow beside me. Jake smiled, then he leaned down and kissed me. It was tender at first, soft and sweet, but soon his tongue was licking at my lips, seeking entrance. I opened my mouth and took his tongue inside, licking at it with my own, not caring about morning breath in the slightest.

He kissed me so slow but so deep, smoothing his hand down the front of my body and over my soft mound, but not really touching me there, just kind of fluttering his fingers against me and letting me know that he could. His mouth left mine, kissing down my neck and chest. He flicked my nipple with the tip of his tongue and then sucked it into his hot mouth. I moaned out loud and lifted my hips, pushing my mound against his hand. Jake chuckled around my breast, released it from his mouth, and patted my stomach.

"Time to get up," he said.

And he did, get up, I mean. He left me lying on his bed with my body tight with need. What on Earth?

We picked up his suit that afternoon, and for the next three days, Jake didn't fuck me again. He was very affectionate, of course, constantly touching me, kissing me, and fondling me. More than a few times he would come over to me when I was reading a magazine or watching TV, spread my legs and kneel between them, and promptly drag his hot tongue up my vagina. He would lick and kiss and suck me down there until I was so very close to climax, only to pull away. He would dip his fingers inside me and tease me. He would lube my ass and push the plug in -- we were on the second one by that point -- and rub his cock head up and down my oily slit.

For four days, he teased me, tormented me, and tortured me, but he wouldn't fuck me and he wouldn't make me come. He never said I couldn't pleasure myself, and I did, frequently and vigorously. But it wasn't the same. My fingers and toys brought me just fine, but it just wasn't as satisfying. Masturbating took the edge off, but that was all.

By Thursday morning, I was a tightly coiled spring, a ball of frustrated and aching need that was collapsing into a destructive singularity under its own gravity. One look at him, one thought about him, and my insides would flood with heat, drenching my thighs, tightening my nipples. What made it worse was knowing that this was our last day alone together. Ryan was coming home tomorrow. Jake upped the ante by spending most of the morning wearing nothing but boxer briefs, letting me see the outline of his perfect package. Half of the time, he was fully erect, with at least a third of his cock sticking out of his briefs. He just played it off like it was an accident. But early in the afternoon, everything took a turn for the worse.

I was headed to the kitchen for a tall glass of cold juice. My legs were still a little shaky, having just masturbated in the bathroom. I could feel Jake's eyes on me as I walked through the living room, and without even looking, I knew he was grinning. My chest and neck were flushed, my nipples were so hard, and I must have smelled like bottled sex. I ignored him entirely, got my glass of juice -- Jesus, the cold air from the refrigerator on my nipples! -- and was in the process of draining it when I saw him. Jake was sitting on the couch with one arm extended along the back of it, watching TV. Not only was he completely naked, but his huge cock was hard as ever, jutting up from between his legs and lying against his chiseled abdomen, throbbing with potency, power, virility. He had what I wanted, what I craved. My insides tightened, along with my lungs, thighs, nipples, everything. It was too much.

I set my glass down on the table and walked over to him, already picturing what I'd seen on the website days before, instantly knowing the best way to get what I wanted. His legs were spread, huge heavy balls resting on the couch cushions, and he grinned up at me as I stood between his knees. Jake raised an eyebrow questioningly.

I didn't say a word. I turned my back to him and reached behind me to wrap my hand around his thick shaft. His cock was like a hot iron bar wrapped in soft silk, twitching in my hand as I pulled it away from his washboard stomach. Picturing the position in my mind, I kept my legs together and bent over slightly, rubbing his hugely swollen crown up into my cleft. I sighed at the feel of him parting my overheated flesh, so very wet that I wasted no time. I bent my knees and lowered my body onto him. His wide tip strained at my opening, and I was so tight that for a moment I feared I couldn't get him in. Finally, he popped inside, making me gasp. With him firmly lodged there, I bent my knees further, letting his cock carve its way inside me, inch by gloriously hard inch, filling me up to the brim. With my hands on his thighs, I began to flex my arms and thighs, pulling my soaked femininity up and down his rod.