Man Flu 4: The Scorned Spouse, Part 1 (Short) (Patreon)

My plan was to keep these Man Flu stories as single part short stories but as I'd really like to get something out to you all today I'm going to break this one into pieces.  As the action is going to kick off in Part 2 I can't see this going much past 3-5 parts.  As always with my cuck pieces I offer a warning.  If this isn't your thing this one to skip.

***

It was as if the infernal gates had opened to release hell’s most wicked succubus into this world of sinners.  Apparating from a roiling cloud of steam my wife steps from the washroom and into our bedroom.  Still glossy from her shower her long, thick locks cascaded over her shoulders like some ancient Viking mantle of raven feathers.  Over her long, statuesque figure was draped a robe of crimson silk.  Down the V shaped cleavage her skin was warm honey, both in its warm shade and flawless smoothness.  Through the haze gleams two vibrant sea-green eyes set into a fiercely beautiful face that defied her age.  I knew she’d had a bit of work done, a minor face-lift and lip augmentation, but that knowledge did nothing to blunt the impact of her stunning good looks.  The magic might have faded from our sex life in recent years but I could not deny that my wife was still a hottie.  When friends and coworkers tease that I had ‘married up’ they weren’t wrong.

With barely a glance of acknowledgment my way she strides through the room to find her phone and check it for messages.  Despite myself, as she was distracted by the screen, I try to catch a peek through the robe at the package that lay in hiding under there.  As she moves a catch a glimpse of silky thigh but her new pecker remains hidden.  I knew it was there, she told me so last night after the lights were out, but until I actually saw it with my own eyes I was having a hell of a time believing it.  Fuck this was weird!

My wife had contracted the new virus colloquially dubbed the ‘Man Flu’.  Thanks to her vaccination she wasn’t being hit with the worst of the nasty influenza symptoms that the first wave of women who got it had to suffer through but the shot did nothing to stave off that most peculiar of the disease’s symptoms, namely the temporary replacement of her cooch with a cock and balls.  The scientists still didn’t know why it happened or how it could happen so swiftly only to shift back again about a week later but it was the reality the world had found itself in these past thirteen months.

With hundreds of thousands of females all across the country and millions around the world having already contracted it I knew that it was only a matter a time before this strange ailment touched my life.  Whether it was my mother, sister, one of our two daughters, or my wife it was an inevitability that it would find its way into my circle.  But even knowing that it was a very, very, VERY surreal understanding that suddenly mine was not the only penis in our marriage.

“Hey babe.  And how is my sickie doing?”  I ask as I loosen my tie and toss it on the king size bed.  “I bet a good hot shower felt nice.”

“Mmm.”

“Just regular acetaminophen still okay for the headaches?”  I say.  “I could run to the drug store if you need anything.”

“Nope.”  She says flatly as sets her phone down.  “I’m good.”

After unfastening my cuffs I pause to give her a look.  She was prickly today and I couldn’t tell if it was just her fighting through this flu or if she was pissed off at me.  It was likely the former but as a husband with a guilty conscience I fixated on the latter.  Did she know?

Staying upbeat I begin to unbutton my shirt.  “I thought maybe we could order in some Thai and settle in with a romcom.”  Her favorite food with her favorite type of movie, that was sure to brighten her up.  After a few seconds of awkward silence I press the question.  “What do you say?”

“Mmm.”  She shrugs noncommittally.  “I don’t think so.”

“Is everything okay Chelsea?”

“Everything is just peachy, Jordan.”  She says with a disturbingly macho scratch of her balls.  “Another day in paradise.”

Now I really begin to worry about her strange behavior.  Did she know?  Before I can try to delve further I am distracted by movement outside.  The huge floor to ceiling windows of our bedroom looked out over our deck, our pool and jacuzzi, and the spacious back yard beyond.  Someone was coming through the back gate which only a handful of people had the access code to.  I tilt my head curiously as a familiar young redhead steps through into the yard.

“That’s odd.”  I say as I watch our ginger maid make her way across the back yard.  In my head alarms were starting to blare.  Something wasn’t right here.  “I told Missy to take the week off so that she wasn’t exposed to the virus.”

“What a saint.”  Chelsea says.  “Such care for the hired help.”  Her eyes narrow.  “Touching.”

Uh oh.

In answer to my unspoken fear she takes the remote for our bedroom television from her night stand she points it at the screen.  I stare at the TV as my wife navigates to a connected thumb drive that she must have plugged into the back.  What appears on the screen is a video from a strangely high angle of this very bedroom.  It wasn’t a live feed as the room on the television stood empty.  Based on the way the light was streaming in through the window I could tell it had been taken during a sunny midmorning.  My heart is drumming in my ears as I realize that the jig was up.  I’d been busted.

My gaze snaps to the upper corner of the room where this video had been captured from and there peeking up from behind the frame of one of the pieces of original art that we had hanging in the room was the tiny glass eye of a hidden camera.

“Chelsea…”

Before I could even begin my apology there comes the sounds of laughter coming from the speakers.  A moment later come two frolicking and naked individuals from the direction of the washroom.  One is a graying, balding man approaching fifty.  The other a short curvaceous redheaded woman half his age.  The pair were, of course, Missy and I.  I gawp in horror as my infidelity is revealed in 55 inches of high definition and surround sound.  After a few giggles and smooches Missy drops to her knees and starts giving me head not three feet from where I now stood.  I look to my wife whose rage filled eyes were glued to the screen.

“Chelsea.  Baby.”  I plead.  “Let’s talk about this.”

“Hello?”  Just then Missy’s voice echoes up from downstairs followed by the sound of the back door closing.

“Come on up Missy.”  Chelsea calls back in an unnervingly calm tone.

I hold my hands out in a gesture of placation.  “I understand that you’re angry.  Let’s just send her home Chelsea.  Let’s talk this through.”  I cringe as the me on the screen lets out a low groan as Missy, now on her knees, starts sucking his cock.  “God you got a good mouth on you Missy girl.”  Says the past me.  “Jesus.”  The current me sighs.  “Can you please shut that off so we can talk?”

To that Chelsea slips the remote into the pocket of her robe with a look that dared me to come and try to take it from her.  I do not take that dare.

Completely oblivious to what she was walking into Missy enters our room looking as peppy as ever.  As always she wore the classic black and white of a Victorian maid which covered up her voluptuous body from neck to shin.  Coming from old money as she did Chelsea was a traditionalist on things such as maid’s uniforms.

“I got your text Mrs. Parker.  I came as soon as…”  Missy starts brightly before the palpable tension in the room stifles her.  Her big lapis blue eyes dart from the silently seething Chelsea to a rattled me before her own dick muffled moan draws them over the to the screen.  Slowly she turns her head to look at the voyeuristic show of which she was the star.

She gasps and her head snaps back to look at me, her eyes wide and panicked.  “She knows!”

“Yes Missy.”  I state the obvious.  “She knows.  I just found out myself a minute ago.  Just be quiet and let me do the…”

The words catch in my throat as my wife of 24 years and the mother of my two wonderful daughters takes me completely off guard.  She begins to laugh!  Missy and I glance at each other in confusion.

“Look at you two.”  Chelsea chuckles.  “I mean LOOK at you two.  Woah!”  She nods to the screen then looks back to us.  “But I mean you two.  The pair of you look like you just received a terminal diagnosis.”  Her laughter stops on a dime.  “Take it easy.”

“You’re…you’re not angry?”  Missy asks.

“Missy, let me do the…”

“No!  I’m not angry.  Why would I be angry?”  Chelsea’s says in an ice cold tone.  “Monogamy.  Loyalty.  Faithfulness.  Honesty.”  She lets out another humorless laugh.  “Old fashioned drivel.  No.  I’m a modern woman.  I know the score.”

Neither Missy nor I knew quite what to do with that.  Just as I’m about to reply she cuts in.

“No.  I’m not angry Missy.”  She says with a smile that chills me to the bone.  “I just want a piece of the action.”

As that stunning statement hangs in the air between us the pair on the screen move to the bed.  “Ohhh Mr. Parker!”  Comes Missy’s loud moan as I mount her missionary style.  Missy’s freckled face goes bright pink with blush as the moaning and plapping of our fucking fills the air.  “Ohhh fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

I plead again.  “Could you please turn that off so we can talk about this like adults.”

“There’s nothing about what I’m suggesting that’s appropriate for children.”  Chelsea chortles as she watches the recording.  Seeing me take a step toward the television she fixes me with a shout.  “DON’T…touch it.”  Her tone calms again when she sees me hold up.  Stepping up beside me, both of us facing the screen with Missy still stood by the door, we watch my betrayal unfold.

“Yes!  Yes!  Yes!”  Our maid on the screen spurs me on, her hands clawing at my back and my ass as I go at her like a rutting buck.

“She’s pretty.”  Chelsea says in the dry tone she might use when commenting on a museum exhibit.  “But not that pretty.  You could have done better Jordan.”

Out of the corner of my eye I spot Missy flinch at the insult.  While cruel I knew my wife well enough to know that it wasn’t said only with the aim of hurting.  It was a neutral observation from a very prideful woman.  Missy was a looker no doubt, cute in that girl next door sort of way, but in both face and figure she couldn’t hold a candle to my perfect 10 of a wife despite being exactly half her age.  Chelsea worked damn hard to maintain her incredible body and it showed.  Nearly as tall as me she was built like a goddess.  Missy by contrast was all round plump curves.  She carried at least 30 or 40 extra pounds compared to Chelsea despite being half a foot shorter, though she carried them well to my eye.  Had I cheated on my wife with a stunning model or actress or even a smoking hot bimbo Chelsea might have understood what happened a bit better.  The fact my infidelity was with the soft and comparatively plain Missy made the betrayal not only hurtful and perplexing but also a grave insult to her feminine ego.

“Chelsea…”  I struggle to collect my thoughts.  How could I explain it to her?  How could I tell her that I still loved her, that I still found her attractive, that I still wanted to be with her, but that the magic ‘it’ factor had drained from our sex life.  A fling with the maid had been just the thing to spice things up.  Everything would have stayed perfect…had she not found out.  “It’s like this…”

“She’s young.”  She interrupts me again.  “Is that what you like Jordan?”

“No.  It’s not that, it’s just…”

“I get it.  Really.”  She says.  “No wrinkles.  No sagging.  No body ruined by bearing and raising your children.”

That last one was a dagger straight into my heart.  I felt wretched.  I felt wretched and I deserved to feel wretched, which made it even more wretched.  In a flash all of the ramifications of my sin come flooding over me.  My arrogant stupidity and bored libido was about to cost me my marriage.  While things weren’t perfect I knew I’d had it pretty damn good.  How would our daughters take this?  They’d never look at me the same way again.  What would our friends say?  We’d be the gossip of the summer.  And our families?  Over the years they’d merged as one big happy clan and I had just shattered the cornerstone of that alliance.  Things would change at work too as my all American family man persona was a big part of the bond I formed with my clients and coworkers.  Financially I would be ruined as Chelsea’s eldest brother was one of the best and priciest divorce lawyers in the state.  And more than any of that, more than all of that put together, I was about to lose her and this cozy, comfortable, fulfilling life we’d built together.  What have I done?

My wife breaks my train of thought with a scoff.  “I bet she’s still got a nice tight pussy too, huh?”

“Jesus, Chelsea.”

Almost as if to prove her point the Jordan on the screen suddenly begins to shudder and shake as he bust his load inside of his mistress.  “Gnnnngh!”

“Ohhhh Jordan!”  Cries Missy.

Not being caught up in the heat of the moment I catch two details I never could have at the time.  The first one was…damn that was fast.  Was that really how long I lasted?  Thinking back to the day it happened I couldn’t remember being particularly quick but that performance on the screen had barely been going more than a couple of minutes.  The second thing that catches my eyes and ears was the look on Missy’s face and the performative tenor of her voice.  Was she faking it!?  I push those frivolous thoughts to the side to focus on the importance of the now.

“Bravo.”  Chelsea says drolly then clicks the television off.  Dropping the remote back in her pocket she turns to face me again.  “No protection even.  You are a brave man.  Or a fool.”

“She’s on the pill.”  I say.  “But that’s beside the…”

“Is she?  Is she on the pill?”  Chelsea laughs again.  “Oh you are definitely a fool.”  She looks at the wilting Missy.  “Why would a poor sweet little thing like Missy ever lie to wealthy older man?”

I sigh.  “Tell her Missy.  Tell her that you’re on birth control.”  When the answer is not forthcoming my heart skips a beat.  “Tell her!”  My heart nearly stops altogether when I watch a look of guilt wash over her.  “Missy?”

“Um…”  Missy swallows hard.  Then screwing up her courage, fists clenched at her sides, she steps forward and proclaims.  “W-We love each other Mrs Parker.  I-I’m sorry you have to find out like this but…Jordan and I love each other!”

“Oh sweet Jesus.”  I face palm as bad just got much, much worse.

“Ohhh, that’s so precious!”  Chelsea jibes.  “Isn’t she a peach.”

“You can mock us if you want to.”  Missy says with faltering bravery.  “B-But we’re in love.  And that’s all that matters.  Tell her Jordan.”  Her big desperate blue eyes beseech me to come to her rescue.  “Tell her.”

“Missy.”  I say.  “Please.  Just…let me deal with this.  Okay?”

“Jordan?  Tell her.”

“Missy.  Enough.”

“You said you loved me.”  She sniffles as her young heart shatters to pieces.  “You said!”

Angry wife on one side and distraught mistress on the other, I was at a loss.

“Woah.”  Chelsea says as she hurries to Missy’s side and puts her arms around her.  “Hey.  No tears.”  She pulls Missy’s curly red head to her chest and pets her hair.  To those outside our family my wife was not what you’d call a warm person so her sudden show of affection to the home wrecking maid leaves me even more perplexed.  “Calm yourself my dear.  Jordan’s just a little overwhelmed right now.  Everything is going to be okay Missy.  I promise.”

“It is?”  Missy whimpers and looks up at Chelsea.  “I don’t understand.”  Neither did I!

Chelsea smiles and pinches her cherubic cheek.  “You two don’t listen very well, do you?  When did I say I wanted to get between you and Jordan, hm?”

“Um…”

“Who am I to get in the way of true love?”  She says soothingly.  “I like you Missy.  I really do.”  Looking to me she smiles, a wicked, evil, nefarious smile.  “As I said before.  All I want is a little piece of the action.”

“A piece of the action?”  I say as I finally catch up to the meaning.  “You don’t mean…”

“Didn’t you always want a threesome Jordan?”  Her grin shifts from demonic to angelic as she steps away from Missy and faces us.  “First time he met me he was trying to get with me and my best friend at the same time.  Ha!  He was brash, I’ll give him that.”  She then mutters under her breath.  “He also had more hair and muscles then too.”

“He really did that?”

“Are you kidding.  This guy is crazy about threesomes.  He keeps bringing it up oh so subtly hoping that I’ll crack.  He think he’s slick but he’s not.”  She says with a swat to my chest.  “This shameless dope even once tried to bring my sister into our bed!  Can you believe that?”

“No!”

“I was drunk.”  I say in my defense.

“And she was married.”  She shoots right back.  “And so were we!”  She chuckles.  “But I see now I that shouldn’t have ignored it.  In vino veritas.”

“I don’t know Spanish.”  Missy says.

Her chuckle turns to a full blown laugh at Missy’s ignorance.  “It means, my dear, that I forced my husband into the arms of another woman.”

“You did?”

“I did.”  She says.  “I didn’t appreciate what a intractable pussy hound he was.  What a irredeemable perv.  A weak, horny little man ruled by his penis.  My dear Jordan needs adventure.  Variety.  A bit of extra spice.”  Shooting a wink to Missy she says.  “You wanna spice things up with me?”

“Oh!”  Missy turns bright pink, taken aback and flattered in equal measure.

“What do you say?”  She says.  “What’s good for the Lord is good for Lady, hm?”

“Mrs. Parker!”  Missy titters, already warming to the idea.  I shouldn’t have been surprised at the interest.  It was her easy sexual suggestibility that let me into her panties after all.  “He he he!  You can’t be serious.”

“Oh but I am.  I am!”  Chelsea assures her with a sensual stroke down her arm.  Missy nearly swoons right there.  Chelsea looks to me.  “What do you say, darling?  Shall we give this the girl the night of her life?”

I was SO confused!  On the one hand I was still in the depths of the worst day of my whole life and on the other my sexy wife seemed to be offering me my greatest sexual fantasy with our buxom 23 year old maid.  What in the hell was happening here?  One last hurrah before the end?  This was so unlike Chelsea.  Despite the roller coaster of thoughts and feelings that I’d just been through…I could not stop myself from imagining the three of us naked and on that bed.  Chelsea was right.  I was horny.  I was irredeemable.  I was thinking with my dick.  If was there I was even a chance for a threesome I was going to take it!

Just as I take a sharp breath in to blurt out my answer the crimson silk of her robe reminds me of something.  Something important.  Something that it was hiding.  In all that was happening I’d completely forgotten!

“But…the flu.”  I gasp.

“Hmm?”  Chelsea hums innocently.  “Oh yes.  I forgot all about that.  That silly Man Flu thing.”  She brushes it aside with a wave.  “We’re not going to let a little thing like that get in the way of our fun, are we?”

“No Ma’am!”  Missy peeps.  “I don’t mind.”

“That’s the spirit!  And you’re not afraid of catching a case of the sniffles, are you Missy?”

“No Ma’am.”  Her curly red hair jounces as she shakes her head enthusiastically.  “I got the shot.  I’m good.”

“And you love Jordan very much and want to make him happy, don’t you Missy?”

Missy bows her head bashfully and nods.  “Yes Mrs. Parker.”

“Of course you do.”  Chelsea’s smile grows.  “You want to make all his fantasies come true.”  She takes the shorter, thicker woman into her arms.  Missy gazes up into my wife’s hypnotic green eyes.  “Mmm.”  Chelsea traces a finger our maid’s full bosom then slithers up, slaloming between the buttons, until she reaches the top.  “Since we’re all in agreement then…”  With that she unfastens the top button of the maid uniform.

I stand there more bamboozled than ever.  “B-B-But…Man Flu!”

Part 2