Chapter 19

After I’d said I was hungry, Coach, his face pale, only nodded while staring at his wobbling wife. As I walked past her, with her panties pooled around her ankles, Mrs. Jenkins’ flaming jade pools tracked my every step. Once ahead of them, I adjusted my trousers with a groan. My cock was hard enough to break concrete.

When I marched by the empty half of the dining table, I slowed at her click-clacking heels, shaky and muffled by the carpet, moving behind me. Oh, if I’d halted right then. One swift grab of her waist. Slapped her onto the bare tabletop. Fucked her. Taken her right there inside her—their—home again.

At a sudden flash of lightning, I jolted just as a powerful gust sent fat droplets beneath the porch overhang to spatter against the window. At the second bolt, it was as if the electricity connected the neurons in my mind. As a plan formed, a smile slid onto my face.

Looking back, like many of my half-baked concepts, it should’ve failed. But to be honest, I’d been emboldened by Mrs. Jenkins. The way she’d been pushing boundaries ever since that first night in the woods. It was my turn to shove. To give her another night to remember. And, okay, to release some of the frustration from Chanelle. Win-win.

Once I’d approached the place settings at the distant end of the table, Coach moved to pass me. However, in one long step, I surged for the chair at the head. With my fingers gripping its tall, ornately carved wood, Coach staggered to a halt. As she moved to the chair at my right, his eyes flicked to his wife. The moment of truth. Yet, there was but a brief spark of tension. After a quick glance at me, he shrugged and sat in the remaining seat, on my left and across from her.

After giving him a smile, I unpeeled my clenching fingers and held Mrs. Jenkin’s chair as she sat.

“T—Thank you, Hiram.” Her eyes ablaze, she gulped as I eased the chair to the table.

“You’re welcome. Mrs. Jenkins.”

At my latest purposeful hesitation, a tremor shook her petite frame. Her expression as she tracked me taking my seat said so much. I wasn’t the only one thinking of me taking her right then and there. I flashed her a grin—a knowing grin. As much as she wanted to be my little white whore, it would be my decision when and where.

Once I’d gotten comfortable, I inhaled. My smile broadened as the enticing aroma of beef casserole filled my nostrils. And sent my stomach grumbling.

When she caught my smile, Mrs. Jenkins beamed at me.

“Here you go—”

At her voice halting, I glanced at Mrs. Jenkins. Although she’d lifted the lid of a deep red dish, she’d stopped. The smile on her face had faded. After a slow swallow, with the cover hovering in a shaking hand, the tip of her tongue slid through glossy lipstick. What would she call me? Lover? Rapist? Pimp? Or simply Hiram?

With the little waxy threads at the corners of her mouth stretching, her lips opened. Closed. Opened again. While her frame tensed, her eyes went to her husband before coming back to me. It wasn’t only me waiting. Coach was also silent as the weird pause stretched.

It ended with a curt sigh from her as she lowered the lid. Either she didn’t know, or couldn’t decide. While Coach passed a platter of rolls, she spooned casserole onto our plates. After a quick glance at her down-turned face, I joined in, scooping mashed potatoes onto their plates before serving myself.

Once Coach poured the wine, the awkward silence returned. Well, the jazz still played. And remained not calming at all. As much as my heart hammered, the diamonds on Mrs. Jenkins chest glittered as hers raced. And Coach’s entire pasty, corpulent frame vibrated.

“To unrivaled beauty.” To this day, I’ve no idea where the words came from.

While lifting my glass, I smiled at Mrs. Jenkins. As a slender grin appeared on her face, Coach raised his. Once her shaking wine joined ours, we all sipped before...

Nothing.

Only more silence. Well, at the rumble in my stomach, despite my hammering heartbeat, I had to eat. As such, I inhaled and flashed a grin at Mrs. Jenkins.

“And an excellent cook,” I said while lifting the first forkful.

Just as Mrs. Jenkins was about to lift hers, I settled my fingers atop the velvet warmth of her thigh. With a whimper, she shot a quick look at her husband before returning to me.

“Hmm, so wonderful,” I added while pushing under the silken hem of her dress.

At the lifting of her leg to press into my palm, I smiled. A softer whimper slipped from her as I tightened my fingers on her shaking leg. All during the meal, as that still-not-calming jazz played, she whimpered with each gentle squeeze of my fingers.

Husband forgotten, as she sipped and chewed, Mrs. Jenkins’ blazing jade pools remained fixated only on me. The hunger in them had every molecule in my body wriggling, building for release. Another rumble of thunder shook the house. As a spray of wind-driven droplets spattered across the window behind the white lace curtains, she shifted her leg. The fire in her eyes blazed; she wanted my hand to move.

At last, after I’d eaten my fill and gulped the last of my wine, I dabbed at my lips with a napkin. With a satisfied sigh, I grinned at Mrs. Jenkins, who’d also managed to finish despite her shaking hands. At the clack of a serving spoon, I turned as Coach shoveled another helping of potatoes onto his plate.

“This has been great. Thank you. But, um, it’s uh, getting late, Coach.”

As her teeth clicked, Mrs. Jenkin’s thigh tensed beneath my fingers. It took every iota of focus not to react. Not to chuckle and give the rest of my plan away. It wasn’t quite taunting. More like simply a little teasing. While maintaining a firm grip on his wife’s now motionless leg, I chewed my lower lip and stared at Coach.

“Do you remember what you said that first night, Coach?”

“Huh?”

“After you’d picked me up. In the car.” As I spoke, Mrs. Jenkins’ thigh pushed into my still fingers.

“Oh, Uh. I’d, um ... I think I explained, uh, that”—his eyes flashed to his wife before returning to mine—”we’d been going to meet somebody, and that she was ... The guy had stood us up. And, uh, that Cindy, um, was...”

“For fuck’s sake, dear! You told him I was horny!” As words shot from her mouth, her hand landed atop mine, pressing my palm deep into her pulsating thigh.

“Yes.” With his eyes wide, Coach nodded. His lower jaw trembled. “Mm-hmm, I said ... I told you that.”

“And, Coach, what did you want me to do to your horny wife?” While speaking, I kept my palm firm but lifted my fingers, raising her clawing digits.

As Coach rolled and smacked his lips, the silence stretched. His gaze flashed between his wife and me. Just as she tensed, preparing to answer for him again, his shoulders slumped.

“I asked you to ... To, um...” His voice became a hissing whisper. “To fuck her.”

As he sat shaking, he lowered his gaze to the table.

“And?” I turned to Mrs. Jenkins. “What did you want me to do to you? What did you say?”

“Rape me!” Body shaking, her voice was high, echoing around the room. Her eyes were blazing pools of molten jade. “I begged for you to rape me, Hiram.”

With a grin, I stood, pulling my hand from her trembling leg. As a moan tore from her, a mewling whimper slipped from Coach when I placed my fingers behind her neck. Just as more rain sprayed the window, another peal of thunder shook the house. At the sudden yank on the knot holding up her dress, Mrs. Jenkins ... She did nothing. Other than the barest intake of air, no sound at all left her wide lips. As Coach groaned, the thin halter straps fluttered down to reveal her heaving tits. Their sharp points were so hard they shone.

To read this story you need a Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In or Register (Why register?)

Support the author's future writing by purchasing this book from Bookapy

The Coach's Wife

INtrinSicliValud

$2.50