Setting Up My Husband

By Lacey Maudlin

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to any person living or dead, places or events are entirely coincidental.

After you’re done, stay tuned for the next episode featuring more conditioning and more breakfast!

Copyright 2015 Lacey Maudlin

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Setting Up My Husband.

Other Works by Lacey Maudlin

1.

“Are you a sociopath?” I asked Danielle, studying her carefully to gauge her response. I assumed she’d say no—what sociopath would admit it?—but figured her body language might still say yes. Would her eyes widen in shock for split second before her cloak of cool returns for the denial? A subtle twitch of disgust? Visible anger at being called out?

Apparently, I was overthinking things.

“Oh, finally! This is why I like you, Beth. You’re the only human who really understands me,” Danielle said, eyes brightened like I’d never seen them before.

Just to be clear: Danielle didn’t refer to me as a human because she’s some sort of magical creature or anthropomorphized object. It was just Danielle’s term for people who were not Danielle. Perhaps some politico might refer to the unwashed masses who didn’t subscribe to their viewpoint as “sheeple”. Maybe people in some unique subculture might refer to people who aren’t into what they’re into as “normals”. Danielle forever existed as part of an exclusive group with a membership of just one, and the rest of society that was excluded from this singular group, myself included, were mere humans.

But, for some reason, she “liked” this human.

“Why do you like me, exactly?” I said, stuffing a piece of pancake in my mouth.

“Because I can actually have a conversation with you, that’s why. Talk about shit like this. Honestly, I’m more interested in why you like me. You, Beth, are the nicest, sweetest little thing that would make anybody want to gag. I talk to you honestly about everyone I revile—which is everybody—and how I manipulate and generally fuck with them all, and yet we’re friends,” Danielle said, trying to get every last piece of egg away from her own pancakes and onto a separate plate so she could pour the syrup. She had some sort of food-separation OCD.

I hadn’t really thought about it, but why did I like Danielle? It really didn’t make much sense. She was, I have to be frank, a pretty terrible person. I’m a graphic designer at a marketing firm and she started as my assistant. I was no manager, didn’t ask for an “assistant”, and let her do what she wanted. Danielle started taking credit for my work, which I let her do, because hers was pretty terrible. As long as I didn’t have to take credit for her terrible work, I let it slide.

I guess I felt bad for her at the time, though I later found out she got the job by forging her portfolio and lying about her education.

Danielle ended up as lead—my boss—though little changed. She needed me to do her job, but it was really upper management she was after. In a convoluted love quadrangle I never quite understood, she managed be sleeping simultaneously with the department head, his assistant, and one of the VPs. She framed the department head, convinced the assistant to rat him out, and the VP promoted her as the new department head. She promptly fired the assistant, though apparently she’s still sleeping with him. And the VP. And the old department head.

Danielle, ruthless manipulator, my boss and my friend. Every Saturday morning, we’d have breakfast together, and she’d tell me about who she was fucking and who she was fucking over. It probably should have appalled me, but it didn’t.

Why did I like her? I didn’t know.

Before I could give the answer I didn’t have, Danielle continued, “So I guess I like you because you’re a mystery to me. I’m not trying to charm you or seduce you, in fact, I let you see my darkest side, yet you keep coming back. It’s like you have a dark side of your own that I just haven’t found yet. Maybe you’re like me, but worse—maybe one day, I’ll wake up with my tongue sewed to my asshole!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to come back from that.

“Even you wouldn’t go that far. I mean, it’s not like you’re violent,” I told her.

“No, I’m not violent,” she agreed, though with a note of sadness, “that would be a great way to end up in jail. Not my thing, anyways. I just like seducing people. I can seduce anybody.”

“That is quite the bold claim, Danielle.”

“Anybody,” she reiterated with a predatory gleam in her eye.

She certainly was good at it, I had to give her that. Danielle had slept with just about everybody at work. People just loved her, and it seemed the reason was her ability to be whatever they wanted her to be. It didn’t hurt that she was sex on legs, either.

Around me, when we were alone, she was just her nasty true self.

I wondered what that said about me.

“There are a lot of man-sluts out there, sure, but there are devoted boyfriends and husbands out there that don’t cheat, you know,” I declared almost academically.

“Anybody,” she simply said again.

“And straight women…?”

“Anybody.”

“Gay men…?”

“Anybody.”

“Okay, you’re just fucking with me now,” I concluded.

Danielle laughed, “Seriously, anybody. People are just attracted to me, what can I say? Come on to somebody, tell them what they want to hear, hell, you could do it if you wanted to. It’s not hard. Most people are an open book, you just have to not give a shit about them to really read it.”

Something about the way she carried herself, Danielle’s absolute unyielding confidence, made you really believe it. That confidence was sexy, and so was the fantastical idea that she could seduce anybody.

It made me think about my husband, Kurt. I’ve always wanted to see him with another woman. I can’t fully explain why, though I’ve tried to rationalize it a number of ways. We were high school sweethearts, married when we turned eighteen, went to college together and so on. Neither of us had ever even slept with anybody else, and I told myself he deserved to have some experiences with other women—that maybe we should have tried some relationships with other people before getting married.

One night, I even had the courage to tell Kurt about it, and he was actually hostile to the idea. He got angry at me, which was rare coming from him (if anybody got angry in our relationship, it was usually me). I even tried to talk him into going to a swinger party once, but he just wasn’t interested. Truth be told, I understood his point of view. After all, I wasn’t about to go sleeping around on him.

Kurt was simply too faithful to fulfill that particular fantasy, and thus we were doomed to an eternity of strict monogamy. I suppose most women wouldn’t complain, but hearing Danielle’s claim reawakened that desire inside of me…

If her seductive talents were really that strong, perhaps she could get old faithful to erupt for someone else.

“Danielle,” I nearly shouted, slamming my hands on the table, “I hereby challenge you!”

“Oh?” she said, bemused.

“You say you can seduce even the most faithful of men. I want you to seduce Kurt,” I said. The silence afterword was painful, particularly after realizing how loudly I’d made this proclamation in the restaurant. I tried not to be aware of who might be looking and listening.

“Your husband?” she asked.

“That’s right.”

“No,” she stated definitively and shoveled a bite of syrup-free egg into her mouth.

“Why not?!?” I complained, almost whining, afraid I’d betrayed the fact that I wanted her to succeed.

“You’re being a pathetic little weakling, that’s why. I have respect for you, and I don’t like to see you debasing yourself,” Danielle said.

“I dare you to do it, Danielle,” I said, and before she could respond, “If you’re really a sociopath, you’re totally wimping out. I don’t like to see you debasing yourself, my ass!”

“It’s different when you’re telling me to do it, you know. And you realize that if I do this, there’s no going back. After it happens, it will have happened, and things will be different between us forever. Between you and Kurt.”

“I. DARE. YOU.”

Danielle threw her arms up and rolled her eyes.

“Fine. I’ll do it. You won’t know when it’ll happen. It might be tonight, tomorrow, next month or next year, but it will happen, and he will be mine, there will be no going back and there will be nothing you can do about it,” she said, with an uncharacteristic level of exasperation in her voice.

“Hey, I just want you to see if you can seduce him, because I know you can’t. I’m not, like, outright giving him to you or anything,” I said, backpedaling a little bit.

“Are you taking back your dare, then?” Danielle asked. Before I could consider reconsidering, she smiled and added, “I’ll make sure you can watch.”

She had me.

I didn’t take back my dare.

2.

A year later, Danielle had her fun messing with our department and moved on to some investment firm. We still kept in touch, meeting for breakfast Saturday mornings.

While I’d forgotten about the dare, it seems our conversation about her sociopathy had caused her to seek out a psychiatrist. I don’t what for, since she clearly had no desire to “change”. She was still stealing hearts, breaking hearts and tearing people down. She hadn’t slowed down at all and seemed almost as interested in the psychiatrist as she did the people she was screwing with at her new job.

Danielle had made it her goal to sleep with the psychiatrist, who was apparently a blond woman in her early ‘30’s, but she was taking it very, very slowly. She said the psychiatrist was sexy, yet Danielle was also adamant that she was firmly heterosexual. Not lesbian, not bisexual, not even “defying labels” (whatever that means) but hot damn did Danielle want to sleep with her. I didn’t understand her sometimes.

Without Danielle to stir things up, my job had become boring monotony.

I was half-considering asking Danielle if her investment firm needed a graphic designer.

I’d go to work, robotically photoshop my way through my day until I made it home at 5:30pm, and start dinner which would be ready when Kurt got home around 7pm. We’d eat, maybe watch a movie, occasionally make love, go to bed and the cycle repeats.

Complacent modern life.

I think hearing Danielle’s stories on Saturday morning was probably the highlight of my week. By then, I think I understood while I liked Danielle: She wasn’t boring. Sure, she was a jerk (except to me), but it’s the jerks that make things interesting. What would Jaws be without the shark? A Nightmare on Elm Street without Freddy? Star Wars without Darth Vader?

Maybe her point of view was infecting me.

Boring humans.

One night, Kurt came home, kissed me straight away and didn’t stop. I thought I smelled something familiar, but lost the train of thought when I realized I could feel his erection pressing against me through his pants. The pressure of his manhood became more pronounced when he grabbed my butt with both cheeks, pressing me against him.

“Oh! What’s gotten into yo—” he cut me off with another kiss and I felt his hand underneath my skirt and between my legs, feeling my already growing wetness. I gasped as he started fingering me, pushing me backwards until my knees buckled. I fell backwards onto the couch.

Before I could even register what was going on around me, Kurt had dropped trou, his rock hard cock swinging freely in the air with a glistening dab of precum on the tip, and towered over me.

“I just need to fuck,” he said in a guttural growl. The unmistakable hunger in his voice turned me on, but I had no response.

“Okay,” I whispered hoarsely.

I let him use me like a doll. Kurt positioned himself on top of me and started thrusting. My heart was pounding in my chest almost as much as Kurt’s cock was pounding in my pussy. That spontaneity, the animal need, it was as if he was possessed.

I was already close to orgasm as his thrusts sped into a staccato rhythm. I could tell he was almost on the edge, fucking with all his might to fly off that edge with the force of a bull in full charge. His ferocity drove me over, and I came with a loud moan, pushing him over.

He collapsed on top of me.

“Soooo…. Dinner is ready,” I told him with a smile.

“Thanks, babe,” he said, panting.

“For what did I earn the pleasure?”

“Huh?” he asked, getting up.

“You just walked through the door and—SEX! SEX!” I responded.

“I don’t know. I just… was thinking of you?” he said, half joking.

“Well, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

It was like somebody flicked a switch turning his passion up to eleven. Every night after that, he came home and fucked me like some determined stallion nearly the second he walked through the door, and I found myself playing the part of the mare in heat almost literally: I was anticipating it.

Sure, I’d start making dinner like any evening before that special day, but I’d be making it thinking about what was going to happen when Kurt walked through the front door. The way he’d be drawn to me, rip off my clothes, and have me however he wanted…. It was hard not to touch myself while I was making dinner, and by the time he actually came through the door, I was practically ready to cum right then and there.

It was almost like some sort of unintentional Pavlovian training.

Ring the bell (start making dinner), and I’d start “salivating” in “hunger”.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, our sex life was amazing… until it wasn’t. It had gone on like that, night after night, for I don’t know how long, but one day it was over. Just like that.

I was finishing up dinner, and my panties were more or less soaked.

Kurt walked through the door, casually, put his coat on the rack and plomped himself down on the couch.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Something probably happened, so I was probably supposed to be the concerned wifey, but I’d spent the past hour and a half habitually playing the sex-started harlot and found it shockingly difficult to shift gears.

I tried to do both, awkwardly.

Wrapping my arms around him from behind, I whispered into his ear, “Everything okay, loverboy?”

Kurt leaned back, gave me a quick peck on the cheek and sighed.

“Fuck work. Whatever happened to the days when you could just win the lottery?” Kurt lamented.

“I don’t think those days were ever there,” I said dryly, realizing there was no turning this ship around. Part of me wanted to point out that we could live off of just what I made, but I knew he’d never go for it and kept my mouth shut.

He was like this the next night, and the next.

This became our new norm.

Apparently, Kurt’s job was literally sapping the soul from him, like some sort of demon. Considering it seemed to take his sex drive, perhaps that demon was a succubus. It never occurred to me that he might be cheating, because, well, it was still Kurt, but it did leave me with a serious problem.

The weirdly sexualized act of making dinner never quite stopped being weirdly sexualized. I still found myself thinking of how things were not so long ago, and by the time I was done was nearly shaking with lust, night after night. Perhaps it was all the rough sex we’d had, but I was finding it nearly impossible to get myself off afterword, despite the fact that I felt so turned on you should pretty much be able to blow on me to make me cum.

I went a whole month without an orgasm, yet horny as hell the whole time. I was distracted at work and even Danielle seemed to notice that I was on edge.

Her concern was unusual.

She offered to “help”, but I turned her down. I’m not sure if she planned to hook me up or talk me into a distinctly non-lesbian girl-on-girl encounter, perhaps with her psychiatrist.

It was getting hard to not at least humor her.

One evening, I’d gotten home, and was about to make dinner. I’d begun to dread it—I’d find myself getting hopelessly turned on, only to get no real release. I think I was at the point where I could cheat—forget having Kurt do it.

I’d fuck just about anything.

The mailman?

The fridge I was standing in front of?

I might have contemplated some absurd way to make that work (if only in my imagination), but was distracted by a note:

“Hide in the closet at 7pm for a special treat! – Danielle

P.S. You can still make dinner first. I hear you like that. :)”

What the hell?

I felt a little angry… and a little excited. I’d already forgotten my dare entirely, but somehow I think I still had an inkling of what might happen.

I made dinner.

Eagerly.

3.

I opened my bedroom closet and found another note in Danielle’s notoriously girly handwriting:

“Right here! Close the door!”

A squeal came from the front door… Kurt was home!

Trying to be as quick and quiet as possible, I slid myself into the closet and shut the sliding door. It was the kind with a bunch of horizontal slats, giving me a perfect view of the entire bedroom.

“I smell food, I think Beth is here,” I heard Kurt whispering to someone, concerned.

“Sssh, she’s not,” I heard Danielle’s familiar voice say, “I’ve made sure of that. C’mon!”

“Dani, I really—gwuh,” Kurt let out a strange questioning noise as (I imagined) Danielle surprised him by yanking his arm.

Dani? Who the hell calls her Dani?

I saw the two of them enter the bedroom.

“See? She isn’t here. She wasn’t in the kitchen, she isn’t here in the bedroom. Stop being a pussy and get on the bed,” Danielle said, sultry but commanding.

Kurt sat down on the bed, penis bulging against his black slacks.

Danielle started massaging him through his pants, her cleavage right in front of his face.

“How does it feel? I’m going to have you on the very same bed you two sleep in every night. How does it feel, Kurt?” Danielle asked.

Kurt just gulped.

“And you know she’s gonna find out someday, Kurt,” Danielle helpfully told him.

“I’m still not sure…”

Danielle dropped her dress to the ground, leaving her only in her panties, and leaving Kurt trailing off. It was no wonder his mind seemed to stop: “Dani’s” breasts were perky and perfect, her body the sort that might make men and women do a double-take…

I felt my own breath catch in my throat, followed by a sudden panic.

Did they hear me?!

Neither of them seemed to notice, thank god, Kurt too transfixed on Danielle, and Danielle, well, she must have figured I was there, but somehow I felt like hiding from her was just as important.

I was rubbing myself a little bit through my clothes, but couldn’t actually get any farther, as my knees were on my dress. I didn’t dare move enough to pull it out from under me—I was sandwiched in between two paper bags from some clothing store or another, and even the slightest movement would make them crinkle and give me away.

I’d have to wait for a chance.

“Mmm, you’d probably keep going even if she was right next to you, wouldn’t you?” Danielle asked as he put a hand on one of her breasts.

Kurt started suckling on the other’s nipple, and Danielle closed her eyes. I remembered her telling me once how sensitive her breasts were. She claimed she could even orgasm, if she was in the right mood, just from playing with them. I hadn’t really believed her, but she looked like she was in heaven right there from Kurt’s mouth.

Danielle reluctantly pushed Kurt away and started unbuckling his slacks.

“If Beth was here, I’d make her eat me out while I do this. You’d like that,” she said right before wrapping her lips around his pulsating cock.

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt said, probably responding to the blowjob more than Danielle’s assertion.

I was beginning to seriously consider moving the bags and hoping for the best. I tried to stand straight up, but with no room to move at all, it just wasn’t possible. The only thing I could push against was the door, which wouldn’t work. If I leaned back (lifting up my knees), my dress was still stuck under my shoes. If I leaned forward (lifting up my feet), I couldn’t get my arms to the dress without crinkling the bags. I had no leverage. It shouldn’t have been so difficult.

I needed pussy access!

Danielle’s slurping stopped, and she asked, “Which side is Beth’s?”

“This one,” Kurt said, slapping his hand down on the far side.

“I want you to eat me out right here,” Danielle said, jumping right where I sleep every night.

Kurt’s eyes scanned the room rapidly for a moment, for some reason, and then zeroed in between Danielle’s legs. He leaned over her, his face right over her panties, and bit down, pulling them down just enough to reveal the small patch of delicate fur. He finished the deed quickly with his hands, throwing her panties across the room, not far from the closet where I was hiding, permeated with her juices.

Danielle spread her legs, and Kurt dove right in.

This was my chance.

I tried moving one of the bags. It felt like I’d moved it a little bit, for the briefest moment, but almost immediately the bag just sank back into the spot I’d pushed it from, making no discernable progress. Instead, I grabbed the door, careful not to pull it in the wrong direction, and stood up.

I crinkled a bag and shook the door, making it creek.

Danielle turned her head toward the closet, toward me, smiling.

Kurt didn’t notice.

“I’m going to mess up poor Beth’s comforter something awful, aren’t I?” Danielle said mockingly. I started to realize that all the things she’s been saying weren’t really directed at Kurt.

They were directed at me.

Head still firmly planted between Danielle’s legs, Kurt made some non-committal response causing her to shudder. She started playing with her breasts, as I started attacking my vagina with full force. I was biting my lip, trying not to make too much noise. Not even breathe, but it was counter-productive, only making me breathe harder.

“Stop… playing with yourself,” Danielle ordered, in between moans.

I hadn’t even noticed, but Kurt was jerking himself off while he ate her out. He promptly stopped, and I found myself, through herculean effort, removing my own hand from between my legs. After all that effort, I decided to comply and not even masturbate.

“I don’t want you… to… get… off!” She said, shrieking on that last word as she came. She was breathing heavily for a little while, but eventually added, “…yet.”

“AHH—!!” Danielle chided, as if correcting a dog.

Kurt’s hand had moved to his penis almost absent-mindedly, and he quickly pulled it away.

Danielle looked in my direction, then back at Kurt, and asked him, “Would you do something for me right now?”

“Anything,” he said, without hesitation.

“Go buy us some wine. Something sweet. Maybe an ice wine?” Danielle said nonchalantly.

“Now?!?”

“Yes, now,” Danielle said forcefully.

The two stared each other down, Kurt looking somehow pathetic.

“Go!” Danielle ordered.

Kurt backed down, put on his pants and left the room.

4.

“You can come out, honey,” Danielle sing-songed, “I know you’re in there.”

Before opening the door, I smoothed my dress and tried to make myself decent, as despite everything I thought I was angry. I braced myself, stood up, and opened the closet, ready to lash out.

But I didn’t.

I just stood there, breathing heavily and waiting for “Dani” to take charge.

Danielle seemed to scan me up and down, finally focusing on my hand, the one that had been between my legs before she told Kurt/Us to stop touching ourselves.

She gently grabbed my hand, and sucked on my finger.

“You’ve been playing with yourself, I see...” Danielle said, slipping a welcome hand down my pants. “Damn, girl. You are wet.”

All I could do was sigh. After this past month, her touch felt like it came straight from the hand of God.

“Your husband is mine now,” she said, and I shivered. “Oh, I felt that. You like it, don’t you, you depraved little slut? Like hearing how Kurt lusts after me? You’re nearly ready to cum on my hand without me hardly doing anything. Have you had any suspicions? Did you still think this was coming?”

I shook my head “no”.

“Of course you didn’t, you naïve little girl. Do you realize this has been going on for a while? Maybe you think this started a month ago, when he stopped fucking you?”

I didn’t answer, though I squeezed her hand inside me.

“Girl of few words? One pussy clench for yes?” she laughed. “Well, you’d be wrong. Now, maybe you’re thinking this started when he kept coming home all horny as fuck—Oh, I felt that too—If you thought that, you’d be wrong there as well.”

She kissed me, and I melted in her arms as she laid me down on the bed.

Danielle, fucking me with her hand, whispered in my ear, “I was fucking him before you ever asked. And now I’m fucking you, too. I told you I can seduce anyone.”

That realization pushed me over the edge, and I came on her hand, screaming, as an entire month’s worth of sexual tension was released in what was probably the most explosive orgasm of my life, given to me not by Kurt, nor any other man, but by Danielle while she was taking a break from fucking my husband.

Through the orgasm, spasming against Danielle’s hand, I heard a bottle drop.

It was Kurt, with the wine.

Somehow the bottle didn’t break.

“What the hell is going on?!?” Kurt screamed, as if he had some right to object.

“Your wife is quite the slut,” Danielle replied. “You two really were made for each other. She was hiding in the closet earlier. No reason to pretend you’re outraged.”

“What?!? I’m not fucking pretending!” he insisted.

Danielle stood up, picked up the wine bottle and opener from the carpet, and calmly opened the bottle.

“Do you know why she was in the closet?” Danielle said, completely ignoring his outrage, “It’s because she’s a slutty pervert who gets off on the idea of peeping on you fucking me. She’s been wanting it forever, asked me to arrange it, in fact. A year ago. But I decided to make her wait. Just ‘cos.”

Kurt’s jaw dropped.

“There’s another reason she was hiding in the closet. It’s because I told her to. Pour us some drinks,” she said, handing him the open bottle. He still had two wine glasses in his hand.

Kurt stood still, as if trying to figure out what course of action his body was going to take on it’s own. Slowly, he put the two wine glasses down on the dresser and started pouring.

“Pour Kurt. Pour, poor Kurt,” Danielle said, laughing at her own secret pun.

Danielle grabbed the glasses, and handed one to me.

“Here, drink,” she said.

I complied

Kurt was rubbing his erection through his pants.

“Might as well pull that cock back out. Must be getting painful.”

His pants fell to the floor and Danielle started stroking him, staring at me right in the eyes. Kurt was also staring at me, a look of deep humiliation on his face.

“Enough of that, Kurt, why don’t you pick up where you left off?” she said, reclining on the bed.

He knelt down, and before I knew it, his head was between her legs, stroking himself at the same time. Danielle noticed.

“Stop touching yourself, Kurt. Save your strength,” she said, then looked to me. “Like a well-trained dog, he seems to be doing whatever I tell HIM--!”

Danielle shrieked as Kurt went at her clit. His hand kept wandering toward his crotch, then away once he realized what he was doing.

“You’re never… going to have him… again… unless I allow it,” she said in between breaths. “How does that make you feel, Beth?”

I didn’t answer, just let out my own fast, shallow breaths.

“I think you’re just fine with it. I think this is what you both want,” she said, pushing Kurt from between her legs. She wrapped her lips around Kurt’s cock, briefly, slowly pulling it out of her mouth, the bottom of his shaft sliding along her tongue. Kurt shivered.

“Don’t cum until I let you,” Danielle ordered. Her commanding, matter-of-fact tone carried that kind of authority that incites you to comply before you even think about it. I felt weirdly determined to stave off another orgasm until she instructed. Until she allowed it.

Danielle bent over the bed, and nodded at Kurt.

He knew what to do.

Kurt took Danielle from behind with a passion I hadn’t seen since, well, since he was fucking me.

Danielle was staring at me the entire time, with a piercing, heartless smile, breasts bouncing with every thrust. I felt entranced, rubbing my breast with one hand, attacking my clit with the other, trying to time it with what was happening in front of me.

Kurt was fucking my best friend in front of me, and all I could do—all I wanted to do—was let it happen. She grabbed her breasts and started massaging her nipples as Kurt’s pace quickened.

“He’s about to cum, Beth, right inside of me.”

I moaned, and that seemed to set Danielle off, to my surprise. Moments later, Kurt groaned, and spilled his seed inside of her.

The two of them both came in front of me, simultaneously, but I was still masturbating and watching.

Kurt pulled out, and sat down on the bed. Danielle sat beside him, arm around him, and seemed to consider me carefully before spreading her legs, Kurt’s cum just barely oozing out.

“You can cum now, Beth,” Danielle instructed, gently, and, much to my surprise, I came right as she told me to. I had been on the edge, waiting for permission, and I got it.

Pleasure washed over me for the second time that night, though it felt a little strange, Kurt ready to sleep, and Danielle seeming strangely tender.

After a long moment of silence, it seemed that appearance of tenderness was deceiving.

“Why don’t you sleep on the couch?” Danielle said at last, “And shut the door on your way out.”

Kicked out of my own bedroom, where my best friend was sleeping with my husband, I found myself feeling strangely satisfied as I sauntered off to the couch and fell into a deep, sound sleep.

Other Works by Lacey Maudlin

Cuckquean Anthology 1: Four sexy stories of naughty extramarital adventures! Setting Up My Husband, She Comes Between them, Super Confident Cuckquean and Designating Diana all in one bundle!

Cuckquean Starlet: When Jill, a Hollywood starlet, finds out her man Jack's next film is packed with erotic sex scenes, she feels compelled to get involved. After all, she can't let him do those scenes with just anybody?!? Of course not!

Jill takes over the auditions, and before the first one is even through, she finds things going much farther--and sexier--than she'd ever planned. And then, there were rehearsals…!

Chapters of Cuckquean Starlet:

01: Practice Makes Perverts
02: First Come, First Served

Designating Diana:Going through college, straight-laced Kate roomed with her sexy friend Diana. In that tiny one-room studio they shared, Kate watched Diana's most "intimate" activities with her boyfriends up close and in-person.

Years later, when Kate introduces Diana to her husband at a party, it turns out old habits die hard. Her former roommate and her husband Derrick hit it off... perhaps a little too well.

Perhaps... Kate doesn't mind.

Perhaps she even likes it?

Designating Diana is a 5,800 word tale of steamy female cuckoldry that will drive you past the legal limit of desire!

She Comes Between Them:Katie and Kurt are happily married, but when Kurt runs into a little "problem" in bed, they seek the services of a sexy sexual therapist, Dr. Nichole Jensen M.D. Dr. Jenson's methods turn out to be rather hands-on, and, little-by-little, her dominating presence seems to be taking over their lovemaking...

She Comes Between them is 11,000 words of steamy erotica!

Will you let it come between you?

Super Confident Cuckquean:Amy's sexy-but-shy BFF Katie is her own worst enemy. Mousey and shy, her lack of confidence is really all that's holding her back. After giving Katie a pep talk, she tries to be a little more confident with surprisingly effective results!

Amy sees the confidence she injected into Katie open up a whole new world for her, turning her shy friend into a sexy seductress who turns heads wherever she goes. She's really turned a corner, getting a great new job, hooking up with people left and right. It's like she's a whole new person and everybody loves her. Especially Amy's husband, Jeff...

This new Katie seems almost as if she can get anything she wants.

Anyone she wants.

And she might just be setting her sites on Amy's husband, Jeff...

Taking Her Place is a one-off tale about a girl, her boyfriend, and his unfortunate fixation...

Justice has a problem. Her new boyfriend, Magnum, just can't seem to get over Britney, who he could never be with. She wants to help him get over her, and she thinks the solution might be right under her nose: The hypnosis class she's been taking in college!

Will she be able to use this technique to her advantage and help Magnum get over his fixation... and without losing herself, in the process?

In Her Dreams Come True, Kate has been having naughty dreams every night for months now, though she can never remember them. She's starting to get a little worried... Every now and then, sure, but every night? Even worse, the first time she really knows what happened in her dream, she realizes it came true that very day. Kate is starting to wonder whether she's psychic... or schizophrenic.

Kate visits a psychologist to help her with her nightly compulsions, and, using hypnosis, he helps her unlock the sexy secrets locked deep within her mind and face her secret passion for her best friend, Jessica.

Amy Visists Club 69: When Amy rents a private booth on posh karaoke bar Club 69, desires run rampant!

In this sexy 5,000 word tale, Amy brings her friend Mike along to the club only to catch wind of a rumor that Booth 237 brings out the hidden passions of its patrons. They regard it as nonsense, yet when the sexual tension boils over, it turns out they have a convenient excuse…

Hypnosis Holidays: New Year’s Eve - When Ron tries to perform his own New Year's Eve countdown for his friend Christy, he finds her falling into a deep trance instead and hypnotic hijinks ensue in this sexy holiday tale!

Hypnoteuse Chronicles is a series following Jody, a normal every day girl, and her surprise descent into becoming a full-fledged hypnodomme thanks to a USB stick left behind by her late step-father, Steve.

Chapters of the Hypnoteuse Chronicles:

01: Birth of the Hypnoteuse

02: Dream of the Hypnoteuse

03: Temptation of the Hypnoteuse