Cheating And Cleaning

What should I have done after fifteen years and five kids? I ask because I really don't know. Should I have waited another fifteen years? What do you do when you tell your husband, "I want to be controlled. I want to be degraded and humiliated." I begged him to go out into the world and cheat on me. "Come back and tell me she was so much better than I am. Make me suck your cock with her juices all over your shaft. No really. Go do that. It would make me so freaking wet. Talk dirty to her on the phone while I'm folding laundry. Take her out to dinner on my birthday."

That was the life I wanted. No. That was the life I needed. He told me, "Shannon, I'm afraid I'll lose you if I start doing those kinds of things."

In my mind I answered back,

Paul, I'm afraid you'll lose me if you don't

.

You get to a point in your life where you just don't care anymore. I've been pretty selfless for a long time, raising a family the best I could. Maybe all those selfless nights of cooking dinner for seven people, cleaning up after everyone, sucking off a husband who hasn't gone down on me since before we were married, maybe all that earned me something.

I know I'm not normal. No "normal" person craves the things I crave. Wanting my husband to cheat on me barely scratches the surface. I wanted him to make me clean and never be satisfied with the job I did. Every time he found a speck of dust I wanted him to drag me into the bedroom by my hair and beat my ass until it bruised. It sounds crazy, I know, but something about that makes me so freaking wet. At least that way I could live my life knowing he was the kind of man who kept his women in place. All he does now in his free time is play video games, watch TV, and sleep. "Will you slap me around a little tonight, daddy?"

"Babe, you know it freaks me out when you call me daddy. And I am not hitting my wife."

I didn't go on Craigslist to meet someone. I was just looking. I feel like I need to be clear on that point. But, it's when you aren't looking you find something amazing. I went through the ad and they were all pretty predictable. "Ten inches of hard cock." "Normal Nice Guy Looking for Some Action Tonight." "Wife is Out of Town. Let's Play."

It was harmless fun. It allowed me to fantasize about what if. What if I could live the life of the whore I always wanted to be. What would that even look like? Would I be allowed to wear clothes or would I be kept naked 24/7? Would I live out the hours I wasn't in use in a cage or tied to a bed, ready to have my holes use at any moment? About twenty ads deep, I noticed one titled, "Looking for a Cock Sucking, Cum Guzzling, Worthless Whore."

Hello, I think I'm in love.

The author of the ad wrote every word with me in mind. It was as if he had been inside my head and pulled out all the things I begged my husband for. I didn't even realize, but midway through reading the ad, I started rubbing myself. This is what it said:

Listen to me very carefully. You're worthless and pathetic. Deep down you know it, don't you? The only thing you're good for is taking cocks in all your stupid fucking holes. Have you ever been with a real sadistic fuck? Someone who looks at you like you're nothing? We both know that's a woman's place, on her fucking knees at a man's feet. Let me show you how low and small you can feel. I'm going to get inside your head and take over. I'll make you obsessed with me. Give me an inch and I'll take everything you have. That's why you've been so unhappy all your life. You don't have anyone to make your decisions for you. You don't have anyone to take over your mind and body. Well, that's all about to change, whore. You're going to message me because the way I talk to you makes you wet. You're going to message me because you want me to hurt you. You're going to message me because I am the only one who knows how to make you cum. Yeah, that's right. I know you almost never orgasm when you're fucking all those other losers you've been with. I know the secret to making you cum is reminding you how pathetic you are. I'll laugh at you when you're on your knees gagging on my cock. I'll slap my dick all over your cum-drenched face. I'm going to tie you up and make your ass sting. I'm going put a gag in your slut-mouth. I'm going to wrap my hand around your throat as I fuck your worthless cunt. Nothing you've ever experienced will be anything like this. You can feel it inside you as you read these words. You already know that you're going to message me. You've already decided you don't give a fuck about the consequences. You're a dirty, pathetic, sad little whore. It's time you had a man in your life who treated you as such.

See what I mean. It was perfect. I couldn't believe I messaged him. His name was Tom. He was married, over six feet tall; no kids. Talking to him was surreal. He knew all of my fantasies. Even the ones I couldn't tell my husband. Even the ones I couldn't admit to myself. "How do you know all this about me?" I asked.

"I know you're type," he said. "I'm not saying you're common. But you're not unique. Lots of woman have these fantasies. Did you think you were all alone on this island?"

"Yeah, Kind of. That's pretty much exactly what I thought.

The next few days were the wettest of my life. I refreshed my email over and over waiting for his responses. There was no telling what he might say. One minute he asked about my marriage, and then without warning he described screwing another girl in front of me. We talked about life growing up, and somehow, he transitioned to all the different ways he wanted to spank me. He made me sneak into the bathroom so I could listen to him degrade me as I touched myself. My husband laid on the bed with his eyes glued to his tabled. My kids screamed at one another downstairs. And there I was looking at myself in the mirror, with my cell phone up to my ear, and my hand between my legs.

In the morning I counted the minutes until my husband left for work. In the evening I dreaded the moment he came home. I made excuses to go to the store before closing so I could park in the dark, rub my clit, and get off to his voice.

What am I doing? This is going too far!

"I don't want to cheat on Paul," I said at one point.

Tom responded by asking, "Would it be cheating if you came over and cleaned out my fridge? Nothing needed to happen beyond that. I know how badly you want to be used. I have a dirty fridge. You have the need to be used as a service slave. So, what do you say? Do you want to clean for me?"

I didn't think Paul wanted me scrubbing another man's fridge, but was it cheating? I mean, what if Tom was a woman? What if she was a friend of mine who hurt her back, I wondered? Then, I'd be a good friend helping someone out in her time of need. In fact, I didn't see a reason to mention it? It was such a small thing. I wouldn't mention the mail being delivered. I wouldn't mention taking the dog out to poop. Would I care if the roles were reversed? If Paul wanted to go over to some woman's house to clean out her gutters, what would be the big deal? No. I don't think so. If anything, I would have been impressed with my husband, the good Samaritan. "I don't see how anyone could reasonably see that as cheating," I finally answered Tom

"Good. It's settled."

And that was how I came to be driving forty-five minutes to some stranger's house to clean his refrigerator. Even though nothing was going to happen, I still put on the shortest skirt I owned. I wore a tight, low cut V-neck shirt, with a bra that practically pushed my ladies up to my chin. I must have looked at myself in the mirror twenty times. I put my panties on and took them off over and over again.

Wear them or leave them?

I couldn't decide.

"In a half mile take exit 191 to Winchester Boulevard." I practically jumped out of my seat every time the GPS spoke. "In two miles turn right onto Dearborn Street." The steering wheel grew slick from my sweaty palms. "In ¾ miles make a U-turn." My arms trembled into jelly. "Turn right onto Anita Avenue." My legs shook and I couldn't get comfortable in my seat. "In one mile your destination is on the right."

Holy-moly! I can't believe I'm doing this.

I must have sat in his driveway for five minutes before I worked up the courage to get out of the car. My legs were mush. It felt like I was stepping on marbles all along his walkway. I took deep heavy breaths and still somehow couldn't get enough air into my lungs. The doorbell was so loud it echoed around me.

Could the neighbors hear

that

?

Are they all peering out their windows watching the whore.

When Tom answered I kept my head tilted down, staring at the tiled floor. "Oh, you're here." He said dismissively "The kitchen's this way."

He led me through the living room past his brown leather couch and chair, around the granite island to the fridge. Opening the door, he said, "Look at this, the shelves are all dirty. It's disgusting. I want you to take everything out and make the inside look as good as new, you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"The cleaning supplies are under the sink. Don't make too much noise, you hear. I have work to do. I'll be sitting at the kitchen table keeping an eye on you."

I unloaded the condiments and a liter of orange juice. Then, I cleared out the meats and cheese drawer, followed by all the vegetables in the crisper. Next, the eggs and butter. In the back corner was some old horseradish sauce and a jar of pickles. I carefully set it all down on the counter, not wanting make a peep. I had my back to Tom so I had no idea if he was watching me. The only sound in the kitchen besides the hum of the refrigerator motor was the sound of typing on a laptop.

I don't know what I expected. I felt invisible. I mean, did he even look at my tits? They were practically bursting out of my top. I removed all the drawers and shelves, one by one, getting more and aggressive.

Fine, I'll show you. I'll do such a good job cleaning you won't be able to ignore me then.

The fridge wasn't that dirty but I knew I could make it better. I sprayed the inside with a lemon disinfectant and wiped everything down with paper towels. There were a couple spots where something spilled and hardened. I used the rough side of a sponge from the sink to clean that. Then, I sprayed everything again before getting fresh paper towels.

"Don't use all my goddamn towels, whore," Tom snapped at me. For a moment I had forgotten he was there.

"Sorry, sir." I responded without looking at him, my whole body shaking. "I'll be more careful."

I went over to the sink to stack the drawers and shelves. I tried to catch a glimpse of him from underneath my bangs. Looking at him directly made me choke up. It made my stomach drop. Tom was fit with brown eyes and short brown hair that could have been styled to look messy, or maybe that was how it looked when he got out of bed. He had a thin layer of facial hear across his cheeks and neck. He wore black collared shirt that tucked into his jeans. I already felt fat and ugly.

There's no way he'll want me. Why would anyone want me, ever?

That was when Tom's phone rang. Answering the call, he said "Hey, John. You got all the estimates?"

Flipping the faucet on I sprayed the water onto the drawers to give them a good soak. "John, can you hold on a sec?"

Tom walked over to me, holding his phone down by his side with the microphone pressed to his leg. With his free hand he grabbed me by my hair, yanking my head back. Whispering in my ear he snarled, "You disrespectful little cunt. I'm on the fucking phone."

"Sorry, sir," I whimpered as I turned off the faucet. His hand remained holding my hair. I couldn't move. It was like every muscle in my body was as tight as his grip

"Sorry about that, John," he said like a man on a stroll "What was that last estimate? Hmm, I don't know. I think we can get a better price than that. Let's get a couple more estimates before we decide... Alright... Sounds good... I'll let you know... Yeah... I can get that done, too... Alright... Talk to you later..."

Tom hung up and let go of my hair, pushing my head away from him. "Never, ever, interrupt me when I'm on the phone. Do you understand me?"

I nod instead of speaking. He leaned into me and inhaled through his nose sucking in my scent. When he exhaled his hot breath burned my skin, sending shivers down my spine. "Now, get back to work, slut"

Tom returned to his laptop. I tried to hold the faucet nozzle in my shaking hand but I dropped it. Picking it back up, I sprayed out all the food debris from the drawers, and squirted dish soap into them. Then I washed and rinsed, washed and rinsed, until the clear plastic looked like new glass. When I finished, I laid them out upside down on the counter to dry.

Getting on my hands and knees I wiped down the bottom of the fridge, behind where the crisper drawer goes. I didn't even think about what I was wearing, how my short skirt lifted above my ass. I focused on the task at hand. That's when I heard Tom's fly unzip. The sound of the zipper moving down- the metallic teeth unlocking from one another resonated in my bones.

"Lift your skirt up higher," Tom demanded.

I reached back and rolled up the fabric, exposing the rest of my ass. "That's it. Now clean the bottom of that fridge really well. Put your back into it. I want to see your whole body move."

I sensed Tom's eyes staring at my ass, so I perked it up even more, moving back and forth each time I wiped. "Yeah, that's it. Look at you. I can't believe you're not wearing any panties. What kind of whore doesn't wear panties when she's cleaning?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Do you know I'm jerking my dick off right now while I watch you clean? How does that make you feel, hmm? My cock is fully erect. I can see your slit from between your legs. Your asshole pokes out every time you push your ass up. What a whore."

I heard the sounds of fabric rubbing against fabric and the jingle of a loose belt buckle. "It makes me feel like a dirty whore, sir."

Tom's phone rang again. Before he answered it, he snapped at me. "I'm going to take this call, don't make a fucking sound, and don't stop moving your ass back and forth. You understand?"

"Yes, sir" I answered, my voice echoing off the refrigerator walls.

"Hey, honey," Tom spoke gleefully into his phone. "No, not too busy. But you'll be happy to hear I've been doing some chores."

I rocked my body back and forth on my knees, pushing my ass up, and then pulling away. "I miss you too babe." I don't know how to describe it. Listening to the way he talked to her, the tone of his voice, it opened up an emptiness inside of my stomach. "It's so early for you, you haven't adjusted to California time yet, have you?" Calling it an emptiness doesn't do it justice. It was a crack that kept getting wider and wider. "That sounds like fun, we should definitely do that when you get back." It was painful, but it wasn't pain, if that makes sense. I deserved it. I wasn't good enough to be the one Tom loved. My place was on the floor, on my knees, making sure his house was clean for when his wife got home.

I heard footsteps. "Don't take any shit from them. You're the team leader," he said into the phone as his voice grew closer. I felt Tom standing over me, and still I wiped away at the already spotless fridge. Up and down, up and down, I moved my ass. "Yeah. That's what I'm saying."

Tom slipped his hand between my legs, sliding two fingers inside me from behind. I bit down hard on my lip, choking back a loud moan. "Are you going to wear that sexy black dress tonight, the one you wore last New Year's?" His fingers eased all the way in curving inside of me, and then all the way out. I timed the movement of my body with his fingers, up and down, in and out. "You're lucky I'm not there then. You'd never get out of the hotel room in that dress."

Tom pulled out his fingers and held them to my lips. "Ha, ha, ha... oh?" Being the good cleaner, I licked my juices off. "You want to know what I'd do to you, huh?" Then Tom touched my chin, turning my head to look back over my shoulder. There he was standing above me with his cock out of his fly. He lifted my chin to meet his eyes. "I think I can manage that."

Tom pulled the phone away from his head and held a finger up to his lips. He mouthed "shh" before putting the phone back to his ear. "The first thing I'd do is slip my hand up under that dress." He pushed my head forward again back into the fridge, then he slipped his hand between my legs. "I'd need to find out if you weren't wearing any panties."

Taking a deep breath, my body shuddered. I held that breath as Tom's fingers moved in and out. His wife was so lucky. I pictured her tall, long blonde hair, legs that wen on forever. I'm sure she exercised every day and had no body fat. And There I was, the whore cleaning her kitchen. "You're probably right. You'd be wearing panties to a work function. So yeah, then the first thing I would do is yank them down hard as I grabbed hold of you."

Tom's fingers were coated with my cum as he slid them to my clit. He started out slow, moving gently back and forth; around and around. "I bet you'd be wet. You always get so wet when I grab hold like I'm about to take whatever I desired."

That was all I ever wanted, a man to use me however he pleased. His wife was so lucky. Part of me wished I was her, and then a much louder part of me knew I wasn't good enough. And then that noise faded to the background. All that remained was Tom's voice talking to his wife, and his hand on my clit. "You'd be able to feel how hard I was by rubbing your ass against me." I wish I could explain it. I was thirty-five years old and in that moment, I got the thing I had been fantasizing about my whole life. "Yeah, well then I'd have to bend you over. Would you like that?" I wanted to move in to their home. I wanted to live in their closet. They could take me out whenever either one of them needed something cleaned or something sucked. It didn't matter to me. "Then I'd grab you by your fucking hair and just ease my cock inside you." I could be in service to them forever.

Tom's fingers moved so fast across my clit, I gripped the refrigerator door to steady myself. "Damn, right. I'd send you off to that party with messy hair and a pussy full of cum." All that pain, that vacancy inside me grew larger and larger. If I had been allowed to I would have screamed at Paul for not treating me like a whore. I would have screamed to let me out of the cage that was my life. But, I wasn't allowed to make a peep. So, I choked it down, just like I choked on my daily boredom and sadness. "Alight, babe. I'll let you go." It was building and building. Tom's fingers were relentless. "Never forget no one could ever compare to you, babe. I love you."

He loved her. Those words killed me.

"Ok, bye." Tom hung up the phone and immediately he roared, "Cum for me. Cum for me right now you slut. Let it out, whore. Do it."

"Oh, fuck," I moaned, shaking the fridge as my juices gushed out over Tom's hand and arm. "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!"

My body tried to pull away from him. I fell forward, deeper into the fridge. But Tom didn't let up. His fingers shook back and forth. "Did you hear how much I love my wife. You know I could never love you like that. You're nothing compared to her. Say it."

"I'm nothing compared to her."

"Louder!"

"I'm nothing compared to her!" I screamed into an empty fridge. Squeezing my thighs against Tom's forearm, I let out one more orgasm. Tears streamed out of my eyes, even though I had no idea why. I wasn't sad. I wasn't hurt. It was all too much for my body to take. I needed everything out of me, shedding every ounce of energy I had: sweat, cum, and tears. "Fuck me! Oh Fuck!"