Summer Guest

Summer Guest

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


I was about to find out just how much trouble one guest could be.


I was about to find out just how much trouble one guest could be.


Submitted: September 15, 2012

A A A | A A A


Submitted: September 15, 2012



“He knows I’m busy writing, but I have to drop everything!”  I spoke to no one in particular which was a good thing because there was no one around but me.

My husband had called to say he hired a new worker and he would be bringing him home for lunch.  “Clean the place up a bit, would you?”

I dropped a load of books onto my bed.  ‘Why did he insist on doing this?’  My house is not the cleanest house.  Bringing home a guest was a sure fire way to make sure I picked things up around the place.

It also meant I didn’t get my writing done for the day.  Not for the first time I wondered if he deliberately sabotaged my efforts.


When I heard the car pull into the driveway, I started the coffeepot and dashed into the bathroom, checking one last time to see if I looked okay.

When I slipped into the dining room my husband lifted his voice. “David, this is my wife Grace.  Grace this is David Peterson.  He’s going to be working with me.” 

I said a quick “Hi,” and reached out my hand.  It was already firmly in his grasp before my eyes reached his. I looked down at our joined hands and gasped.  Energy charged up my arm and buried in my chest making it hard to breathe.  My face suffused with color, evidenced by the prickling heat on my neck. 

“Do you have us some lunch?” Kelly’s voice startled me and I jerked my hand back.

“I’ll have it for you in just a moment,” I mumbled.  Kelly was already at the sink cleaning up and, thankfully, missed the exchange. He had strict rules about how guests were treated in our house.

I led our guest through the dining room to the kitchen. My movements were stiff and jerky.

“If you need to clean up, be my guest.  I indicated the sink he was welcome to use without looking in his eyes.

He watched me while he waited for my husband to finish.  I took the salad to the table and went back for the burgers I made.

“Got some coffee?”  Kelly asked.

“It’s almost done.”


“It smells good.” David had a nice voice, quiet, confident.

I blushed without looking at him. Why did I have to do that?  ‘There ought to be a way to control that!’ I fumed inwardly.

“Thank you.” I mustered up the courage to look him in the eye as I said it. Grey eyes.  Blue grey.  My heart stopped, and then suddenly lurched forward.

His face was weathered, bearing the most beautiful lines etched into his skin.  He had lean features and prominent cheek bones and grey wavy hair pulled back into a ponytail.  He was gorgeous in just about every way I could imagine.

He washed his hands carefully, looking my way curiously.  That was when I realized I was staring.

‘Oh God, the last thing I need to do was let Kelly see my interest.  And what is this thing I have for older guys anyway?  I’m 40 damn it!’  At forty I would be considered ‘older.’ At least old enough that looking at a man older than me with the hope that he would be more experienced, or more patient then I shouldn’t really matter.

“Would you like some coffee?”


I set the table and poured the coffee.  I thought I would slip away back to my computer.  Not that I could write, holy crap, my mind was like mush, but because I felt like I was suffocating, and I didn’t want Kelly to see how attracted I was to David.

“Aren’t you going to join us?”

Rrrrrrr. I wanted to growl. “Sure.” I said.

They talked about the job and I just sat, and listened, and fetched more coffee.

“David is going to be staying in the guest room for a while.”

Startled, I looked up into those amused grey eyes.  ‘Crud,’ was the only thing that came to mind.

That was when the rest of the gang stopped by; a handful of men that had been working for Kelly for quite some time.

I was so relieved I jumped up to grab mugs of coffee for everyone.  They visited for a while bantering good-naturedly and teasing me unmercifully over silly things.

It was their way of showing the new guy the pecking order.  A way of saying we’ve been around long enough to have this privilege… that was okay with me.  I enjoyed the teasing they gave, and gave it right back.

I caught David’s eyes on me often, but then he could have said the same of me.

Just when everyone was about to leave I was forced to speak to him.  “David, I have to go shopping for dinner tonight.  Do you have any food preferences or allergies I should know about?”

“No allergies, and I like eggs and toast in the mornings.”  It was the way he said it, like he was giving his order to a waitress or something.  It made my hackles stand up.

My husband was standing there smirking.  My eyes narrowed in his direction.  “Go ahead and laugh.” I told him.

“I guess you’ll just have to get up in the morning and cook our guest some eggs.”

“I guess,” I tried to make my voice sound light, but I refused to look David’s way.  As far as I knew, it was still considered rude to glare at guests.

As soon as the door closed, I growled my frustration, and gathered the mugs none too gently.  I was on my way back to the table when I noticed him standing there quietly waiting for me to look up at him.  When I did, he said. “If it is a problem, I can cook my own eggs.”

My eyes dropped to the floor in shame.  I shook my head silently.

He reached out as if to touch my chin. I jerked my head away from his touch, staring at him wide eyed.

He stared down at me, and try as hard as I might I couldn’t understand the look in his eyes.  I just know I felt profound shame.  I didn’t know that I had been crying until the tears fell onto my hands.

He nodded, “Until tonight.” Then out he went.

I don’t know why, but I sobbed brokenly after he left.  Why did I feel so ashamed, and why did it even matter?

I couldn’t think for the rest of the day.  I just went through the motions.  I guess we were having chili for dinner that evening because that was what I brought home; that and eggs.

I went through the motions of making chili and cornbread.  I was just about to set the table when my daughter showed up.  I rolled my eyes. ‘Of course she would show up at dinner time.’

Then my granddaughter was throwing herself into my arms. “Gwandma!”  I picked her up and twirled her around the room showering her with kisses and hugs.  Then she noticed the stranger at the table and got all shy, snuggling into my neck.

I snuggled right back.  The day had been an emotional wreck and I needed the comfort. I snuggled one more time while looking into those grey eyes.

“Go say hi to grandpa while I get some food, Okay?”

“Umkay,” she squirmed out of my arms and launched herself at Kelly.  “Gwampa”.

I smiled at her enthusiasm and headed for the kitchen.

“So who’s that?”

“Your father’s new worker.”

“Really?  He’s kinda hot.”

“I know, be quiet,” I hissed.

“I’m not married.” She insisted.

I rolled my eyes. “Grab the cornbread” I ordered as I carried the pan of chili to the table.

“I only want half a bowl,” she called on her way back to the kitchen.

Out of habit I dished out the food.  Over the years I got tired of hearing, “Tony took the rest of the food again.” And “She’s got more than me!”

It was the way he watched me serve the family that made me wonder if I was doing something wrong.  As I set the bowl in front of him I said, “If that’s too much-“

“It’s fine, thank you.”  Was that approval at last?  A tiny thrill went through me.

The rest of the evening he ignored me, and I pretty much did the same.  Allowing my daughter and granddaughter to distract me was easy enough; until they went home.

That night Kelly insisted on making love to me.  I don’t know why, but it seems he likes to do that whenever we have guests.  I on the other hand, am always uncomfortable with the thought that someone will hear me.  Maybe it was the years of having children in the house.

I struggled to remain silent as he methodically tortured me with his touch until I was moaning and crying.  Then he took me until he was satisfied.  As usual, I was still desperate with need.

I threw on a robe and headed for the bathroom.  The door was closed. I debated hiding in my room until he had settled in, but years of habits were hard to break.  I waited, leaning against the wall.

David opened the door and stared at me across the hall. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”  But still he stood in the doorway taking in every detail.  His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared when he caught site of the wetness traveling down my leg.  He watched it all the way down to my ankle, then he looked into my eyes.  I blushed clear to my toes.  I’d say I had that long awaited orgasm, except for some reason I felt more on fire now then I had before.  He stepped forward and I pressed myself further into the wall.  He reached out as if to comfort or reassure me but I shrunk away from his touch.

“Good night,” I said pointedly.

“Not likely,” was his quiet reply.

I washed up as quickly as I could, rinsing out a hot wash cloth for my husband, and slipping into my room.  It wasn’t until I closed the door that I heard the soft click of the guest room door closing.

Kelly was half asleep when I handed him the wash cloth.  “Thank you.” He murmured then fell asleep.

I lay on my side and cried. What was it about David that disturbed me so much?

Was it those lovely expressive eyes with those deep lines at their side that spoke of wisdom and experience?

Was it his quiet manner that made me think he had the patience of Job?  Or was it his deliberate manner of speech where he didn’t say anything he didn’t mean?

Why did I feel ashamed to have made love to my husband?  I slipped into my office and buried myself in my writing, anything to leave all these questions behind.

Every morning I struggled to get out of bed and make breakfast.  In at least 20 of the 23 years of marriage, I did not cook breakfast.  And that three year sentence was not served all at once.  No, I would make breakfast for about three days in a row and remember why I didn’t do it!

I had difficulties waking up and difficulties going to sleep before 2:00 in the morning.

I wondered if the universe hated me.  Until 6:30 in the morning when he sat down with his eggs, toast, and coffee.  He would look me in the eyes and say “Good morning.”

In that instant my whole body would wake up and sing “Good Morning!”

One morning while doing dishes I caught myself humming… me humming at 7:00? I shook my head.

It was Saturday evening when David asked quietly, “Could I bother you for a cup of tea?”

I stumbled through an explanation of how we didn’t have any in the house, Kelly being a coffee drinker and all.

“Woman.  Just shut up and get the man a cup of tea!”

I was shocked, and humiliated, and hurt.  “Yes, absolutely.”  I answered and went to the store crying on the way, wondering why my husband would even speak to me like that.

It wasn’t until I was standing in front of the tea that I realized I didn’t know what to get.  When I called home to ask, all I got was a cheerful, “Anything is fine.”

“Anything is fine?”  I fumed.  “He tells me to shut up and get the man some tea!  Now that I am here he says anything is fine?”


That night was the first time in all the years I had known him that Kelly ever laid a hand on me.  He surprised me by bending me over the table and paddling me in front of our guest until I cried.

“You can apologize to David for your disrespect.”

I looked up into those grey blue eyes then looked away in confused humiliation.  I was shoved back down to the table. “I’m sorry.”  My voice broke. “I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect.”  I looked into his eyes and saw a fierce hunger there. I wanted to shrink away, maybe hide under the table.

“All is forgiven.  Thank you for the tea.”  He said quietly.  I slipped off into the kitchen to do the dishes.  I was terribly confused.  I just stood there at the sink trembling.  I was trying to understand all the things I was feeling, but nothing made sense.

I was so preoccupied, I didn’t notice David slip into the kitchen, but I felt the warmth of his body as he stood just behind me.

My breath quickened.  I wanted to move away from him, but there was nowhere to go.

He leaned into me.  “Your smell is intoxicating.”  He slipped his cup into the sink.

His mouth was by my ear. “You can thank me for the spanking in the morning.”  He ran one single finger down my back.

I made a strangled sound in the back of my throat.

“He’ll give you a proper one tonight.  He is going to paddle your behind until you beg his forgiveness.  Then he is going to make you come so hard…”  He wrapped his fingers over my hip.

I thought I was going to melt, my body felt so week.  He slipped his hand up to the back of my head, his thumb caressing my neck just below my ear. 

“You can thank me for that by letting me hear you across the hall.  I want to hear his hand on your bottom, I want to hear you sobbing, begging.  I want to hear you when you come.  That is how you can thank me.”

The only coherent thought I had was ‘not very likely.’

He pressed his body into mine.  I caught my breath.

After the dishes, I sat at the table listening absently as the conversation moved and drifted.

“Why don’t you go get ready for bed?” Kelly suggested casually.

David looked at me in open curiosity.

“You can wait for me sitting naked on the end of the bed.”

I heard my breath catch. What was wrong with my husband?  Why would he say such a thing in front of another man?  

David chuckled softly.  “Lovely.”  I didn’t know whether he was speaking of my deep blush or of the torment he was causing me.

I did wait, naked and shaking.  Although I didn’t know for sure if I was shaking from excitement or fear.  Was it possibly both?

Kelly came in casually.  He started taking off his clothes, telling me about the things he planned to do at work the next day.

When he was naked, I could see he had a raging hard on.  He quietly asked me to lean over the bed.

I stood up and turned around but hesitated to actually bend over like an errant child.  He pushed me down forcefully, pinning me there with a hand on my neck.

“You embarrassed me today.  Not only that but you were rude to our guest.”  He said it quietly, his voice hot with fury.

The paddling at the table did nothing to prepare me for the hard smack of his hand on my flesh.  I gasped from the sting.

“What did I do wrong?” I asked softly.

He continued to paddle me soundly until my bottom was hot and I jerked in anticipation of each blow before it came.

He stopped and leaned over me.  “You better think carefully before you refuse a guest common courtesy.”  He removed his hand from my neck. “Don’t you dare move!”

I heard his belt buckle tinkling behind me, but I wasn’t prepared for the pain of the leather caressing my hot sensitive skin.

The cries were torn from my lips, one after another until it was one long wail.  “Please, please.  I sobbed loudly. “Please no more! I’m sorry, I’m sorry for embarrassing you.  I’m sorry I was rude to our guest, I won’t do it again, please!”  I dissolved into the bed crying abjectly; helplessly awaiting the next blow.

I heard the buckle hit the floor, his hands caressed the hot bruised flesh of my bottom.

Then without preamble, he buried himself inside me; thrusting so deep he butted painfully against my uterus, my cries of pain became lost in my continued sobbing. Then his pace slackened and he started stroking my breasts until I was moaning loudly from the pleasure.

The volume of my cries surprised me and I remembered David across the hall way.  Even though I tried to be quiet, I seemed unable to control my actions any longer.  I felt weak and helpless and wounded, but I was also free from resistance.

The pleasure rolled through me like waves from the ocean.When I finally came, I cried.  I cried loudly and brokenly, afraid of the feelings that overwhelmed me.

Kelly took me in his arms, kissed me, and ran his fingers through my hair until I slept.


I met David in the kitchen the next morning when I got up to make breakfast.

I was surprised to see him there. I looked down at the floor in shame. That he heard me in the night was humiliating.  That he had probably instigated everything in the first place, made him the object of my fear, and adoration.

He slid his fingers down my back and over my bottom. My body lurched in pain.  His hand stilled. His other hand lifted my chin, demanding me to look him in the eyes.  Those expressive grey eyes.

His hand caressed my bottom bringing quick tears to the surface.  He leaned close to me.  “Thank you.”  I whispered, not out of sincerity, but because that was what he wanted, and I was afraid to do otherwise.  He regarded me very seriously.

“Thank you,” his voice quiet and husky.  “Your cries were sweet; your pain intoxicating; and your climax… most satisfying.” His words skittered along my spine and lodged in the pit of my belly.  He leaned in slowly and brushed his hot lips across mine.  Then he was gone, across the room making a pot of coffee. 

In a daze I went to the cupboard and retrieved the egg pan.

“It’s Sunday, you shouldn’t have to make breakfast this morning.  We should have donuts instead, the jelly kind.”

Without a word I went and got dressed.

I was on the way to the door when he said, with regret.  “I didn’t mean for you to go...”

I looked at him very seriously for a moment.  “No problem,” I said clearly. “It’s my pleasure,” although it was politeness only and that much was forced.  Part of me deeply resented this man, and part of me was profoundly thankful.

Without a backward glance I walked out the door.

That was the first time, David, our guest, made love to me.  He didn’t touch me, but he made love to me all the same.













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