Cucked By The Dead: Part 4 (Patreon)

Hi guys, here's the next part of my story Cucked By The Dead.

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I’m feeling good. I’m feeling like we turned a corner last night. It was a relief seeing that glint in his eye when he told me to get down on my knees in his office and take his load in my face. It was hot too, him marking me like that. It’s making me wonder whether the distance between us has just been in my own imagination. Or whether it was real but it’s passed now. 

Either way it calms me, this sense that everything’s okay after all. All day at work I’m feeling chill, even though things are a bit hectic and I’m busy all day. I even have to work late.

I get home about nine thirty. I let myself into the house. The kitchen light is on down at the back of the house, but the rest of the lights on the ground floor are turned off.

“Babe, I’m home.” I call out. He’ll be in his office; I don’t know if he can hear me from there. I haven’t quite got a sense of how far the sound travels in this house.

I climb the stairs. I don’t bother to flick the light switch, because the combination of the light from the kitchen and the light from the study is enough for me to see my way. The house is silent except for my footsteps and the creaks the floorboards make when I put my weight on them — I’m not trying to sneak anymore. The shadows of bannister rails stretch out in different directions from the two sources of light, casting shadows that twist all around. Over towards our bedroom the shadows envelop everything, except for a bit of pale moonlit sky I can see through the french doors that open out onto our tiny balcony.

“Babe?” I get to the top of the stairs and round the railing. He’s in his office, sitting at his desk with his back towards me. But he hasn’t acknowledged me yet. 

There’s something wrong, I’m sure of it. The silence. Why hasn’t he responded? For a second I imagine I’m about to find him sitting there dead in his chair, and I’m suddenly frightened.

I take those final few paces down the hallway, to the entrance of the study.

I can see his face reflected in the window now. He’s not doing anything. He’s just still, staring. Blank. He looks conscious, but completely absent. I take those final few steps to reach him. “Keith.” I reach my hand out, put it on his shoulder. “Keith!”

He blinks, shakes his head a little, like he’s coming out of a trance or something. “Hey,” he says sleepily. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He doesn’t turn to me, just looks up at my reflection beside his in the window.

“Are you okay?” I suddenly feel my heart race with the adrenaline of the dread I’d just been feeling. “You scared me. What were you doing?” I lean in, kiss the top of his head, his neck, his ear.

“Mmmm,” he sighs. “That’s good babe.”

“You looked like you were on another planet,” I tell him. He looks like he’s high, and for a moment I wonder if the reason he’s been acting so distant lately is because he’s started using.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Kiss my neck again, just like you did just then.”

I lean down and kiss his neck like he asked. He moans in appreciation. He reaches out, lays his own hand on the back of my head, simultaneously caressing it and holding it close so I’ll keep kissing him. “Babe that feels good,” he says again. “Makes me horny.”

This is a weird turn. I kind of want to stop, spin him around in his chair, look him straight in the eye and try get to the bottom of why he’s acting like a goddamn space cadet. But on the other hand, it feels good to be wanted. So I keep kissing his neck. 

He grabs me. Pulls me into his lap. Sticks his tongue down my throat with a level of force that seems almost aggressive. Then when he pulls away he gestures at the bedroom with a tilt of his head. “Come on,” he says.

The moment we’re in the bedroom he throws me face-down on the bed. He’s wrestling with my belt and then my fly, and he pulls my trousers and my underwear down roughly. There’s lube on the bedside table and he grabs it, dropping a wad in my ass crack and a wad in his hand to lube himself up. He didn’t waste a second, he was on me, then his cock was at my hole, then he was inside. Then he was fucking me roughly, pounding me into the mattress, grunting.

He groaned. He leaned in and growled, close to my ear. “Fuck yeah, Jimmy. That’s it. This is what I needed.”

Who the fuck is Jimmy? 

My muscles all start to tense up, like the shock of this revelation is running up the whole length of my body. My ass is tensing too, clenching, and for a second I have the urge to push him off me and demand to know who the fuck Jimmy is. But I don’t give in to the urge straight away. Keith clearly hasn’t even noticed he’s said someone else’s name, and it seems like my ass clenching up is only making him enjoy it more. He’s rutting faster, pounding harder, a low growl in my ear. It feels amazing to be this desired, to have this animal effect on him. Even if it it’s this Jimmy getting this reaction from him and not me. But I don’t want him to stop. In fact, I’m harder than ever, taking his relentless pounding and knowing it’s not me but Jimmy he actually has all this pent up energy for.

I can’t help it, I cum in seconds. Keith doesn’t notice, and I let him keep fucking me, even when my hole startes to sting. Finally with a beast’s snarl he buries his dick in deep and unloads in my ass before collapsing on top of me.

He pulls out and rolls off me. I turn over, and I look him in the eyes. “Who’s Jimmy?” I’m not sure if I want to ask. Maybe I’m better off not knowing. And, even though it’s crazy, I feel guilty for asking. For making him share this secret.

“Huh?” he responds.

“Jimmy.” I allow a few seconds to let it click but he continues to look back at me blankly. “You said his name. While you were fucking me just now.”

His brow furrows, putting on a good show of confusion. “Are you sure?” he says.

“I didn’t imagine it.”

“I don’t know a Jimmy,” he says. He gets up off the bed and pulls his trousers up.

I roll my eyes. “So you just happened to say a random guy’s name during sex. Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe that? You said his name during sex. Come on. I’m not even angry necessarily. But at least have enough respect to tell me who you’ve been fucking.”

“It’s true. I’m not fucking anyone called Jimmy. I’m not fucking anyone at all. You are the only man I have been with physically in years.”

The look on his face, the tone of his voice, it seems genuine. But it makes no sense. “Why have you been acting so fucking strange then? Tell me that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says. But this time he looks away, guilt written all over his face. He might have been telling the truth a second ago but he’s holding something back right now.

I let out a heavy sigh of frustration. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me now. But something’s not right, and I think we need to talk about it. So when you’re ready to, I’ll be here.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know what you mean. Everything’s fine. There’s nothing to talk about.” 

He walks out of the room, and seconds later I hear the office door shut behind him.