My Home Is Your Home

This story was inspired by a short story in The New Yorker called Experience. I loved it and wanted to reimagine a similar story had it been written for Literotica. In the process of transformation, the story really became a very different tale. I hope you all enjoy it and please read the original if you want to read a true professional short story author. I really appreciate all of the feedback from my first story, so please continue to email and let me know what you think if this story did anything for you.

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My marriage failed quickly and with flare. I went from a comfortable life with a stable husband, a preplanned suburban existence, and few decisions to make to a life without rails and every decision hanging in the air in front of me like little clouds. The first of those was to reach out to a woman I barely knew to ask if I could stay in her home while she traveled. I didn't know Michelle well and the times I had met her I actually felt intimidated. She was an imposing woman that had a very powerful presence, but she also had a beautiful, expensive condo near downtown that I knew was going to be vacant for a while.

Michelle was extremely accommodating when we met to set everything up. She made me feel at home by offering everything I needed; her Wi-Fi credentials, access to her computer, and instructions on all of the automated systems. She even had a cleaning lady that came in twice a week that would continue while I was condo sitting. It was the perfect place to crash land while I started my job search.

She sat across from me at her small breakfast table in her robe fresh out of the shower. We were sipping coffee and taking care of all the small details of my stay. She was writing some final notes for me about the security system when her pen slipped and fell to the floor. When she bent down to pick it up, her robe parted and I could see her ample breasts. When she lifted back up after collecting the pen, she was staring at me staring at her.

"Not bad for 44, eh?" she said with a smirk.

"I uh, I mean...I am so sorry for...," I stammered.

She jumped up and rubbed her hand across my cheek. "You aren't the first one that I have caught peeking and I certainly hope you won't be the last," she responded as she sauntered back to her room to finish getting ready.

After an hour or so, she came rushing from her room with bags in tow. "I am so late. If you have any additional questions, please call my cell and enjoy your time here. Seriously, my home is your home," she said as she rushed for the door.

I grabbed a few boxes from the car and completed my "move in". I kept what I took from my old house...our old house minimal. I wanted a fresh start and everything from my old life, even trinkets, brought back too many memories of the life I no longer would have.

After an afternoon of lounging and watching TV, I realized the sun was going down. What I noticed for the first time was that many of the windows did not have coverings; even the bedroom windows were curtain and blind free. I thought this strange since there were very expensive art and decorations throughout her home. It wasn't like any of the neighboring condos had sight lines right into the windows but with the lights on inside it still left me feeling vulnerable and exposed. I showered those first few nights with as little light as possible, changed clothes and went to bed in the dark.

I could imagine Michelle moving around her home with little clothing on and not even noticing that someone could peek in at any time. It was as if her life were too big for her to concern herself. If it attracted an audience, she didn't care because it wouldn't impact what she was doing next. I was eight years younger than her but it felt as though she had lived a hundred more lifetimes.

When the cleaning lady came, I went for walks around the neighborhood. Other than that I didn't get out much. I did some job searching, but mostly I lounged around the beautiful condo and enjoyed living in a different skin for a while. Instead of fighting through a long drawn out divorce, my ex-husband and I had settled in arbitration so I had a bit of money. I wanted it to last as long as possible, so I convinced myself that my solitude was a savings measure.

I really enjoyed wandering around the condo on rainy days. The windows and skylight made a sort of music when the rain pattered on them and as I went from room to room the sound changed.

I thought once Michelle left, I wouldn't really think of her that often. I was wrong. The whole condo shouted that Michelle lives here. Her closet full of beautiful and powerful clothing was like walking up to several copies of her. Each room held something that only Michelle could have chosen. I imagined her in some exotic locale picking stuff out and negotiating the price. Her bed was extremely comfortable. After several nights, I could smell her perfume on the pillows.

I came across the key by accident. Michelle had asked that I eat as much of the food in the refrigerator and freezer as I could get through since she was going to be gone for so long. She had some amazing pre-made meals stacked in the freezer. These weren't grocery store frozen food fare. They were gourmet dishes, many of which I had never had before. The meal this evening was going to require a steak knife and I hadn't come across those yet. I started digging through drawers and came across a key ring with a single key on it.

I had noticed that the study closet was locked early on when I was checking things out. I really hadn't thought much of it at the time. I just figured that Michelle kept some valuables in that closet and wanted it locked. Now I had a key and I was certain it would unlock that last piece of mystery in her home.

I surrendered to curiosity, put the food I was preparing away, and headed back to the study. I would like to say I was ashamed of my snooping, but that would be a lie. I had butterflies and an obsessive desire driving me to that door. Besides, she had left the key in a place that was so easy to find. If she really wanted to hide something, she wouldn't make it that simple would she?

The key slid in and the door opened easily. I stood in shock as the closet and its contents registered in my mind. One wall was covered in outfits. There were some leather and some lace, but clearly, clothes that were for sexual occasions only. The other wall had a rack full of DVDs. I didn't have to pick them up to see that they were extremely explicit films with most including racks, whips, and even some chains. In the back of the closet, there was a small set of drawers with a chest on top. I opened one of the drawers and found a number of sex toys. Some were plain and industrial looking while others were a kaleidoscope of shapes, sizes, and colors.

I closed the drawer and my focus shifted to the chest. It was obvious from its placement and design that it was special. I opened the lid and found a journal with the word "Compendium" written on the front. There was also a thumb drive. I took both of the items and closed up the closet. I sat in the office chair and started flipping through the journal. It felt like I had found the secret part of Michelle that made all of the other pieces make sense. I could feel the care and attention it had taken to produce.

Each page was a meticulous record of a sexual encounter. Some had pictures, some had drawings, and others were just written records. While the photos and drawings were mostly of very fit, young men there were a few of women and couples as well. At the top right of each page, there was a rating. The current page was a 5.8/10. "Poor Robert," I mumbled as I flipped to the last few entries of the journal.

The back pages were all dedicated to one young man in particular. His ratings ranged from 9.2-9.7/10. I searched for a picture on one of the pages and eventually found a body picture cut off at the neck. He had a swimmers body and a dark complexion. He was very excited during this photo shoot. He was spectacular. His name was Marco and he was from Sao Paulo, Brazil according to the notes. I wondered why he was rated so high compared to the other entries. The reports mentioned "his stamina and control, his willingness to submit, and his attention to detailed instructions".

I closed up the journal. I hadn't even thought about sex since leaving my other life and realized it had been a long time since I masturbated. The journal had certainly woken up my libido.

I turned my attention to the thumb drive. I logged on to the iMac sitting centered on the desk and inserted the drive. The new little icon appeared at the top right of the screen. I am not a computer expert but I knew enough to recognize a folder full of video files. I found the most recent one and double clicked it.

The screen filled with a shot in the bedroom. The camera must have been on a tripod in the corner of the room aimed at the bed. Marco was tied and secured face up on the bed. Both arms and legs were secured to the bedposts at each corner. I realized it was the first time I could see his face. He had boyish features but by any measure, he was a very handsome young man. His hair was short and black. He had full lips and a square chin.

Michelle entered the frame. She was wearing an amazing leather outfit that accented her ample cleavage and tight butt. It looked like a leather negligée. She exuded beauty and control holding a crop and striding over to the bed.

"Why are you here Marco?" she asked.

He delayed. She smacked his thigh with the crop. He twitched.

"I am here to please you," he blurted.

Michelle dropped the bottom part of her outfit. Her ass was really amazing. She crawled onto the bed and straddled Marco. She put her hands on the headboard keeping the crop cradled in her right hand and placed her crotch right over his face.

"Now work like I have taught you," Michelle purred to him.

I paused the video and shook my head a bit. At some point, my hand had dropped to my panties. I was touching myself without having realized I had even moved my hand. I couldn't believe the level of control Michelle had over this young Adonis.

The lack of human contact and what I recognized was a burning sexual ache took over. I ejected the thumb drive, put everything back in the closet where I found it and headed to the bedroom. I quickly undressed, climbed onto the bed, and masturbated as furiously as I had in years. I had an incredible climax and it took me a while to recover. Once my eyes finally focused and I could regain a level of composure, I prepared for bed promising myself that I would stay out of Michelle's personal things and get back to my job search.

The next few days and nights were filled with battles that morality and modesty lost at every turn. I am embarrassed to admit how many times I went back to the journal and thumb drive. I read and watched every act that had been performed in this condo before my arrival. While there was an amazing array of very sexy videos, I almost always ended up on one of the four videos of Marco and Michelle before I would run off to masturbate yet again. There was an obvious chemistry built from the obedience Marco displayed that was missing from some of the more poorly acted exploits with others. Marco was there to please and in doing so he obviously got more excited. His focus was always Michelle until she told him it was his turn and how she wanted him to climax. Even then, it seemed he wanted to make sure she knew his enjoyment was garnered from providing hers. He was an incredible lover and followed her instructions without fail.

At some point as I immersed myself in this world of sex and control, I realized just how boring my sex life before had been. My husband...ex-husband had been like all the men I had been with before him. I enjoyed myself with them and there were several very exciting times. However, more times than not, it had been too quick, focused too much on his dick, and never exactly what I had wanted. There were positions I preferred, actions I would have begged for, and things that would have pushed me to the edge but they never seemed to happen.

It was early evening when the doorbell rang. The door system was hooked up through the television so I clicked over to see who was there. I expected a delivery or a salesperson. I shot straight up when I realized it was Marco. I fumbled with the remote and clicked on the little green icon that would allow me to speak to him.

It was strange talking to the TV, "Hello, can I help you?"

Marco spoke into the camera by the doorbell, "Michelle? Is that you? I really need something. Can I come in?"

"Michelle isn't here. I am house sitting for her," I said.

"Oh," he said quickly. I could almost see the gears turning in his head as he realized his mistake. "My name is Marco and I need to pick something up if that's ok? I left something the last time I was here to fix the dishwasher," he continued with a very subtle accent.

I couldn't acknowledge that I knew who he was so I tried to think of a good response. My anxiety was rising. I felt guilty for breaking into this young man's private life. At the same time, the only interaction I had the last couple of weeks had been to welcome the cleaning lady during her visits. I was lonely and somehow Marco already felt like an acquaintance.

I came up with, "Of course, just let me ring Michelle really quickly to verify ok?"

"Oh yeah, no problem," he said.

I muted the door camera with the little red button on the TV and reached over for my cell phone. The time difference was only a couple of hours so Michelle would be eating or out for an evening appointment. She was the only person I had called the last couple of days so I clicked on my recents and punched her name.

She answered with a background of restaurant noises, "Hey, is everything ok?"

"Yes, I just...you have a visitor. He is a young man, Marco, says he fixed your dishwasher," I responded.

"What? The dishwasher? Oh, Marrrrcooo. Right, yep. He does some things for me around the house." She caught on quickly. She asked, "What is he doing there?"

"He says he forgot something here and needs to pick it up. I just wanted to make sure he was legitimate before I let him in," I said.

There was a long pause. I could hear silverware clanking and snippets of twenty conversations. Somehow I could sense her smiling when she said, "Yes, he is a very polite guy. We should let him pick up whatever it is he needs. Oh, if he has a moment, ask him to check the handle on the master bedroom closet door. It had a little wobble last time I used it and he can probably fix it quickly. I have to get back to this work meal, good luck." The phone call ended. Michelle wasn't one to small talk when the conversation had obviously concluded.

I turned off the TV and headed for the front door. I wished I had time to change, but pajamas and a robe were my work uniform these days. As I walked toward the door I felt the key and key ring in my pocket. It was a constant reminder that I had crossed so many privacy lines...a shame token. I opened the door.

"Marco, come in. Michelle said to grab whatever it is that you left," I said in a timid tone. I was nervous but trying not to let it show.

He looked at me in my robe and grinned. It was a charming grin. "Awesome, thanks so much!"

He walked by me as I closed the door. Oh, my god, did he smell good! He was wearing a musk that added to his allure. I realized that everything he did was part of her plan. He was wearing that cologne because she told him to wear it when he visited. He followed directions. He was even more handsome that I has recognized in the videos. His chiseled features were subtler without the harsh lighting. In person, he looked a bit younger than I had guessed from the videos. I changed my estimate from twenty-six to twenty-one or twenty-two. I didn't normally feel old, but I tried to imagine what I was like the first year or two that I could legally drink.

"I think I left it in the cabinet by the dishwasher," he said as he headed that way. "I will just be a minute if you want to get back to TV or whatever," he said trying to separate.

"Oh, no. I wasn't watching anything. I can help you look," I said.

"Ok, it is just, um...it's a tool I need for my next job," he stammered.

We headed into the kitchen. He went over to the dishwasher and opened the cabinet doors surrounding it making a show of actually looking for something. I knew he wasn't going to find anything so I started enjoying the effort he was putting into this charade. When he bent down, his shirt would pull up and expose his boxer briefs a bit. Michelle must have told him to wear those as well.

He kept glancing at the drawer that typically held the key now in my pocket. I could tell he wanted to get it, but why? I was very curious what was in that closet that had pulled him over this evening.

He stood from his crouch and said, "I guess it isn't here. I wonder where I left it? Who knows, I guess I will get out of your hair. Thanks for letting me in to take a look." His creative plan to get the key had run its course apparently. He started to head back the way he came.

"Wait! I, um...I mean don't leave," I said with too much force as he passed me.

He stopped in his tracks and turned back to face me.

"Uh, Michelle said that there was something in the master bedroom that she needed you to look at," I rattled.

He paused again and looked at me with a skeptical glare. "What did she want me to look at?" he asked.

"Oh, she said the handle on the closet door in the master was loose. She thought you could probably fix it," I explained.

He looked at me in shock for the briefest of moments. Then he quickly took his shirt off. "I am here to please," he said.

What the fuck!?! It happened so smoothly and quickly I didn't know what was happening. My mind spun a million miles an hour. What did I do? Was there something about those words? Was that their code? That had to be it. Michelle set me up. She knew exactly what would happen if I asked him that question. I should tell him to put his shirt back on and send him home. I should apologize and say there has been a misunderstanding.

"You are here to please me?" I asked as I walked over to Marco and put my hand on his well-defined chest.

"I am here to please," he repeated.

I don't know what came over me. The loneliness, the depression lingering from my divorce, all of the hours spent watching Michelle and her lovers doing things I didn't know were possible, all of the masturbating, and the lust that I had developed for Marco after reading about him and watching him perform resulted in an overwhelming desire for him.

"Remove your shoes, socks, and jeans and sit on that chair," I pointed at one of the kitchen table chairs nearest us. While he walked over and began undressing I removed my robe. Then I thought, "what the hell," and threw my top off as well. I had seen every part of his body. It seemed only fair to show a bit of skin to him. He had completed his tasks and had turned the chair to face me. He sat in those boxer briefs awaiting further instructions. Michelle was right about the cologne and the underwear. He looked and smelled amazing.

I walked over and straddled him. "Now I want you to feel my breasts," I said with more confidence. I would never be as bold as Michelle, but if he wanted to be told what to do I could give it my best shot.

He raised his hands and started to slowly massage my breasts. I didn't carry as much weight as Michelle did up top, but my breasts were two of my best assets. Genetic roulette is awesome when you win.

"Suck on my nipples and keep massaging," I demanded.

The bolt of electricity that shot down my chest to my groin when his tongue touched my nipple was so intense I almost fell backward. He was slow and deliberate, breathing on me first, then tentatively licking, and finally sucking me in. I was lost to his work as I slowly sank down onto his lap while grasping the chair to keep from falling back. My pajama and panty covered pussy came into contact with his rock hard bulge as I settled. He was patient and continued to escalate his speed and rhythm on my breasts as I began rocking back and forth on top of him.