So Much Like His Father

"What’s a woman to do when she finds out she's the other wife?"

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How could I not hire him? His name jumped off the list of junior college students who were looking for a part-time job: David Williams, Jr. My name is Lisa Williams and my husband is also a David. “No relation,” I’d josh after the younger David started his work-study program. 

The subsequent irony had not been lost.

Allow me to put the joke into perspective. I was thirty and have blond hair and blue eyes. My David was almost forty-one with sandy hair and light-brown eyes. David junior was nineteen and had dark-brown eyes, curly black hair, and skin the color of coffee with milk. Clearly not my child, I’d nevertheless ask whether anyone in the office had seen my son, “Davie,” and he’d sometimes call me “Mama,” usually when I had to correct his work. 

I had wondered whether or not I’d have remained ignorant if this one busybody coworker hadn’t repeatedly brought up how similar the two Davids were. They had the same build and gait and it was pointed out way too often that the two “kind of look alike.” No one mentioned their eyes, not the color but their shape, but I saw it—that and their smile. 

David traveled a lot for work, often for a week or two at a time, and so I couldn’t ever get the two to meet. His times away had made me nervous enough that we agreed to have a safe room installed. It was to be a small one, made out of a walk-in closet. While the crew worked and with nothing better to do, I flipped open my laptop for fun to find whether the two Davids were somehow distantly related. 

I learned then that ignorance is bliss, and knowledge is despair. The two men were related alright. It was no wonder that I couldn’t ever get David and Davie in the same room. 

David came home (from where?) soon after the workers left. I didn’t have enough time to process this, much less how to approach him—confront him? He dropped his bags and grabbed me like he always did and I melted into the passion of our kiss. There was no way he had another wife, a grown son, a house, and a whole other life just a dozen miles away. 

I invaded his mouth to keep me from asking and him from answering. 

“Someone’s horny,” he said, breaking away. 

“What, you think I’m just another hole that wants filling?” I interrupted him before he could respond. “Never mind. Come on, let me show you the safe room.” I littered the hall with my clothing on the way. We always fucked when he got home. If we didn’t that time, then I’d have to admit everything to myself. I couldn’t do that. I didn’t want to accept it and I didn’t want him to know that I knew. Maybe I made a mistake. What if I made a mistake? 

I stalled. He had kicked off his shoes and I put them in their place. I hung his shirt and folded his slacks. He tried to get me onto the bed but I pulled away and pushed him onto his back instead. He lay there stroking himself, the smug bastard. 

I wasn’t ready. My sweet pussy wasn’t ready. That’s what David called it: your sweet pussy. He barely got his hand out of the way before I sat squarely on the prick’s cock. I bounced on it because I could, because what would he do about it? Duck-walking to his chest, I bounced the breath out of his lungs and then sat there with his arms under my knees. 

“This is different,” he said. 

“You like it?” I looked over my shoulder at his cock ratcheting his balls out of the way. He was more than ready. I wasn’t. I stared at his expectant grin, not realizing how blank my face must have been until I grinned back. My sweet pussy approached his open mouth but didn’t quite get there. I nestled myself onto his throat, wondering what he felt with my entire weight bearing down on his Adam’s apple. 

David coughed, I bounced and he coughed harder. Can he even breathe? I wondered as my sweet pussy lips parted, surprisingly wet, while slip-sliding up and down his throat. “This must be killing you,” I said. His eyes widened. My thighs tightened against his neck as I humped harder. “I mean, your arms are pinned, you can inhale my sweet pussy, my tits are ever so close. And your cock,” I looked back, ”your cock looks ready to explode, but there’s no fuse, is there?” 

“Oh, God, Lisa…” His voice was hoarse. 

“Shh…” 

“Babe, don’t. Don’t leave me hangin’,” he begged me. 

I flipped myself around, shoved my ass to his nose, and stared down his barrel while I jerked him off, surprised at how surprised I was when he shot me in the face; I guess my mind had drifted. He babbled on about what had gotten into me and then made a joke about that. 

“Okay, babe, it’s your turn,” he offered. 

“I need a shower. My head hurts,” I mumbled as I made my way into the bathroom. He followed me there to pee while the hot spray from the shower washed his cum and my tears down the drain. He didn’t say anything about how I didn’t sleep in the nude this time and he quickly fell asleep with my back to his. 

I had to do something. I was awake for hours wishing I knew what I could do before it came to me. 

~~~ 

The whole thing had to be Davie’s idea. I was only eleven years older, and I’m ten years younger than his father. My wardrobe was skewed older, as was my makeup. Those were necessary but easy fixes. Flirting comes naturally and what worked for David would work for Davie—like father like son, fuck son like father, right? I needed to make myself accessible and available to satisfy a fantasy he might not even have yet. 

I insisted that Davie start coming out with us Fridays after work and I tipped the wait staff and bartender to make sure that they knew he was with me to make sure he never got proofed. My share of our group’s conversations had evolved into how much David was neglecting my needs at home and, unrelated, of course, how much Davie had matured on the job. The others caught on long before Davie did. I told the ladies it was all in their sordid imaginations, but discreetly asked the guys if they knew whether Davie had a girlfriend. They did a lot of my work for me. 

The right night finally came. We had several private conversations that the others pretended not to listen to. His eyes had to fight their way back to mine whenever I’d lean in close. I giggled like a nineteen-year-old would while my hand gripped his thigh like the experienced, determined woman that I was. I almost felt bad that his father had forced me to do this. 

“Walk me to my car?” Pretending to be drunker than I was, I took his arm and leaned hard against him. “Hey, you wanna know what would be funny? If you and I were to sleep together, I could call out my husband’s name and you’d never know it!” That elicited the nervous laugh I expected, but it opened the door. “How come you’ve never tried to kiss me?” I rested my head on his biceps. “I know you’ve thought about it.” 

He paused before stating the obvious. “I don’t know. You’re married, I guess.” 

David did a good job raising his son—such morals! “What if I wasn’t?” I pouted. I shyly looked up at him, uncertain, with my lips parted ever-so-slightly. I closed my eyes at his first tentative approach. I felt his breath right before his full lips touched mine. I kissed back just as tenderly and my eyes stayed shut when he pulled back. “More?” 

He crushed our bodies together as we unabashedly kissed in the parking lot in front of our co-workers. I half-hoped that one of them would squeal on me. I broke the kiss and panted, “Follow me home.” He nodded and almost ran to his car. I glanced back at our friends and pretended to be embarrassed. 

Once we were there, I handed him the keys to unlock my door and hesitated. “Do you think I’m attractive?” 

“God, yes, why would you need to ask that?” he answered while nuzzling my neck. 

“Tell me, then. I never hear that anymore.” 

“I can’t believe that. You’re fucking hot! What kind of stupid man wouldn’t tell you that a million times a day? You’re pretty, you’re beautiful, you’re, you’re smart…” 

How much melodrama can I get away with? I bit my lower lip. “What are we doing here?” 

“I’m going to make love to you and make sure you know how hot you are.” 

Not bad. “What if I just want you to fuck me?” 

“Who says I can’t do both?” 

That was a pretty smooth line for a nineteen-year-old. I crossed my arms and lifted my dress over my head, revealing my red lacy push-up and matching thong. I dropped onto my knees and hurriedly pulled down his pants, muttering about how I couldn’t believe I was doing this. He moaned even though I hadn’t touched anything yet. Apparently, overt melodrama turned him on. 

His uncut cock sprung tall and proud. I had never been with an uncircumcised man before. Like-father-like-son isn’t always the rule, although otherwise, they matched inch-for-inch. Lucky me. I pulled the skin back and licked the tip a few times before taking him into my mouth, slowly, an inch at a time. I bit down on him to keep it in my mouth while I unhooked my bra. 

I positioned him between my tits and he humped right away as I cocooned them around his cock. 

“I can’t hold back…” 

“Don’t hold back.” He certainly didn’t need my encouragement and his first hot jet struck me under my chin as I was looking up at him. When his eyes finally opened, I made a show of cleaning his cock. I stayed there like a good girl until he led me to my bed. 

I honestly thought I’d be more detached about this than I was. Sucking my husband’s son’s cock was exciting, as was his tongue wedged in my cunt. David was experienced but Davie’s technique more than made up for it. I fantasized about being younger, the two of us sucking and licking each other after the senior prom. My orgasm shook me out of my reverie and I moaned, “Oh, David!”

He looked pleased with himself and he had every right to be. Thank God for a teenager’s quick recovery because I wanted that cock in me right then. I sucked my juices from his tongue and easily guided him in and up. Try as I might to grip him, I was too sloppily wet. I held onto my toes and let him thrust hard into me. My second climax was better than the first and I knew he could find a third one buried in there, but then he withdrew and started to wet-hump me. 

I cursed at him and pushed him back inside. “God damn it, don’t stop now!” I felt the crest and crashed when that pulsing cock pumped his cum into me. We lay panting, covered with unheeded perspiration. We showered together, which was oddly familiar until I thought again about who he was. 

I admonished him before he left not to tell anyone of this. He practically begged me to do this again and I hesitated an appropriate length of time before saying yes. 

Over time, he fell in love with me but I never let him say the words. As far as he knew, he was making love to a woman torn. I was almost going to hate breaking his heart, but it was his father’s fault, and they’d all know it. 

~~~ 

Davie was surprised the day I showed up without warning at his house, feigning a work-study issue with some papers for him to sign. The time had come to meet his mother, David’s wife, and I knew that she would be there. David was ‘traveling’ again. I wondered how he might have tried to hide or escape if he had been there. 

Missus-fucking-David-Williams, Shawna, was fucking gorgeous. She was about my height and build, with very dark, very flawless skin. Her yellow floral romper had to have come off the Juniors’ racks. So that was the whore he was married to, but he married her first, so I suppose that made me the whore. 

I wanted to hate her, and I did, but that wasn’t why I was there. I was there to get her to like me. 

We got along famously, graciously calling each other “Mrs. Williams” whenever we went out together and we consistently remarked about how similar our Davids were. 

“It’s like they’re the same person,” I had said more than once. 

I got my comeuppance when too much wine led to too much information: It seemed that her husband called her lady parts ‘her sweet pussy’—imagine that. She apologized right away for getting too personal; I can guess what my expression must have been. I laughed it off and told her that my David didn’t have a cute, original name like that for mine. 

Plans for the four of us to go out together never came off because the men’s schedules just weren’t cooperating. 

Davie was cooperative, though, like the one time I gave him a hand job in his bedroom while his mom was talking with his dad on the phone. It was funny that Shawna called her husband ‘Davie’ and her son, ‘David.’ 

“Davie, I miss you so much,” we heard her say as I jerked off her son. 

“Davie, I love your cock so much,” I mimicked. I shot his load onto his bedroom floor and made him clean it up. 

~~~ 

I stopped fucking David, claiming bad UTIs, and he accepted that. I still sucked him or jerked him off so he’d still come home. He consistently suggested anal, which I’ve always flatly refused in the past, but I started teasing him with, “not this time, maybe next.” 

I made it worth his while, playing dress-up in trashy lingerie and the like. I even masturbated for him once while I wore my wedding dress. He stained it with an impressive shot of cum, which bothered me but for only a few seconds. My plans didn’t include neglecting him and they didn’t include him knocking me up after I quit my birth control. 

David was unaware that I had the safe room guys install a second one using our other bedroom closet. Now there were two matching closets with full-length mirrored doors—two-way mirrors that you could look through from inside the sound-proofed little rooms. The doors locked tightly from the inside and could be controlled using a phone app. 

I put all of our wedding pictures and albums in one of them—you know, for safekeeping. 

Timing was everything. I don’t know whether I should have been proud or ashamed of how easily they were manipulated. 

Shawna arrived right on time for a tour of our safe rooms. She had become more and more worried the more I talked about how insecure I felt with David away so much and how much better it was now that I had my little place to hide. She stepped inside and the door locked behind her. 

The guided tour was cut short but the demonstration was just beginning. The entire bedroom was visible and Shawna wasn’t. The microphone clearly picked up every whisper from the bedroom, but any screams from the closet stayed inside the closet. It was too bad that the phone in there wasn’t connected, or that the room controls had been disabled. 

“Don’t panic. The show will begin shortly,” I said, facing the mirror. “Feel free to peruse my albums as you wait.” 

I stripped naked and applied some slutty make-up in front of the mirrored doors. “Our husband should be here soon.” I had to look really close to see the mirror wobble. Those safe room guys did a solid job. 

The best costume for when David got home was almost no costume at all: a yellow thong and a yellow floral romper, a size too small and right off the Juniors’ rack. Poor Shawna—the bastard didn’t recognize it. She must have, though. 

“The doctor said my infection is gone,” I sang, playing to both him and the mirror. “Wanna make up for lost time?” He couldn’t get undressed fast enough, pausing only long enough to question why I was just standing there. I held up a pair of scissors and said, “I don’t much like this old rag.” 

David stood a cock’s length away from me and cut my romper from neck to crotch, with his last snip severing my thong at the hip. God, I was ready. This, our final fuck, would be the last time he’d fuck either of his wives and I won because the only thing that his first choice could do was watch. 

Without bothering to remove my tatters I shimmied and dipped in front of the mirror. I wiggled my ass and asked, “tell me what has been too, too empty and I’ll let you stick your cock in it. You only get one guess.” 

“Baby, I have missed your sweet, sweet pussy!” 

I bent over, stuck my ass way up in the air and French kissed the glass. Shawna pounded on the door while David pounded on my sweet pussy. Threatened with an uninvited orgasm, I forced him away…

Published 3 years ago

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