'My Husband's Rich Boyfriend' draft: Housekeeper for the weekend (Patreon)

First part of chapter seven.  Enjoy :)

My throat was dry and my heartbeat was drumming in my ears as I stood on Callum’s doorstep. I couldn’t quite come to terms with the fact that I was about to be invited into his house, and invited into the life that he’d built with my husband.

The door opened. Callum was in a black muscle shirt, and grey sweatpants that hugged the outline of his meaty cock. He didn’t even look at me, he just stepped forward and scooped Winston up into his strong arms and kissed him. Winston sighed contentedly as Callum’s strong arms wrapped tight around him.

“Missed you,” Callum whispered.

“Missed you so much,” Winston replied.

They stood kissing, arms wrapped round each other, for a minute or so, while I just stood there awkwardly. Eventually they uncoupled, and that’s when Callum looked at me for the first time. “Come in, Nick.”

I followed Callum through the front door into a spacious, double-height foyer with a large winding staircase in its centre. It seemed a little like a modern museum or something; sun streamed in the tall windows, lighting up the white walls that were peppered with artworks. “I’ll show you around,” Callum said. It sounded more like an instruction than an offer. He started up the stairs, Winston sticking close beside. He didn’t gesture for me to follow - he didn’t even really look at me - but the instruction was implicit so I hurried up the stairs behind him.

At the top of the staircase he stopped and pointed right. “Our bedroom’s that way. You only come near here if you’re told to. Got it?”

My dick jumped just a little, thinking about the bedroom my husband slept in with Callum each night. “Yes. Definitely.”

Callum turned and walked in the other direction. Winston sauntered after him and I followed, a few steps behind. Like a servant. “This part of the house is where staff stay.” He stopped at one of the doors, and pushed it open to reveal a small room sparsely decorated with a single bed, a chest of drawers and a small TV on the wall. “This is your room for tonight. You might as well put your bag down now.”

I did what I was told. Callum didn’t wait for me, he was already headed back down the hall the way he’d come, so did one quick scan of the room and then hurried after.

“You’re filling in for the housekeeper,” Callum explained as he walked. “The duties basically involve keeping everything clean and tidy, bringing people what they ask for, and helping out with any jobs that need to be done around the house. In terms of cleaning, that means making sure every room is clean at all times. Things put away, floors vacuumed and mopped, surfaces cleaned. In terms of other stuff: you need to bring us drinks when we ask for it, be available whenever we call, go get us whatever we tell you to. You need to help Johannes in the kitchen: cut and prep, carry food out to us, do dishes. That kind of stuff.”

He started descending the staircase. “We’re having some friends round for dinner tonight. So I want you to pay particular attention to all the entertaining areas - the lounges, dining table, outdoor seating area - make sure they’re immaculate. Help Johannes get dinner ready. Be on hand to bring out the food and drink while we have people here. Clean up after dinner. Then tomorrow you can bring us coffee in the morning, clean up anything left over from tonight, and do the laundry.”

At that point he stopped, turned, and looked at me properly for the first time since I’d entered the house. “Understood?”

“Yes,” I answered, looking at the floor because I felt too intimidated to look him in the face.

Callum headed as though he was going to lead me into a tour of the rest of the house, but then instead opened a door, just past the bottom of the staircase. “You can start in here.”

It was a guest bathroom, completely white except for the pale grey marble floor tiles and bench tops, and the identical deep brown glass bottles of soaps and hand lotions. I walked in, and looked around. The room was spotless. I looked at Callum, confused. “You want me to clean this room?” I asked nervously, afraid I was missing something really obvious.

“Yeah. It’s about to get real messed up,” he replied.

Before I could contemplate what he meant by that, Callum reached into his sweatpants and pulled out his cock. He let go of it and it flopped around, limp but hefty. For a second nothing happened, but then he began to let loose a think, powerful jet of piss. A second later the smell of it hit me, strong and pungent. Callum swayed at the hips and his meaty cock flopped from side to side, the stream of piss flailing around and splashing all over the tiles and the wall.

I was so taken aback I think I just stood there, slack-jawed and silent, while he pissed all over his bathroom floor. He had his usual arrogant half-smirk on his face; I looked over at Winston, and he was trying his best not to laugh.

When he was finally done, Callum shook himself off; his cock looked so solid and weighty in his hand that I was simultaneously turned on and angrily jealous of him. He put his cock back in his pants, and left the room. “Clean it up,” he called out after him.

I just stood there for a while, a little shocked, soaking up the stench of his piss. It smelled just like my bedroom that night he’d belittled me in my own home. Eventually I shook myself out of it, and decided I’d better go looking for a mop.

I wandered through the immense house, trying to get my bearings and find where the cleaning supplies were. The whole house seemed to be made up of huge spaces with white walls, dotted with clusters of expensive furniture. There was art everywhere - abstract works, sculptures on plinths standing in the middle of empty space. And paintings of a style I recognised from the one that lived above my mantle - the one I’d been jerking off to each night. Callum really was a talented artist.

Through a set of large doors I found myself in the large - almost commercial-style - kitchen. In there I found Johannes, a tall, muscular man in a tight-fitting t-shirt under his apron that showed off the fact that he took good care of his figure. He was busy making some kind of pastry, but he pointed me in the direction of the laundry. I would have never found the cleaning supplies without Johannes’ help. It ended up being across the other side of the house, roughly below where my bedroom was, in the laundry. I grabbed a mop, filled a bucket with hot water and floor cleaner, and somehow managed to find my way back to the bathroom.

As I mopped Callum’s piss off the floor, I wondered what I’d got myself in for. Was this what I really wanted? Cleaning up after that asshole while he makes me look more and more pathetic in front of my own husband? I don’t know what I’d imagined - being included? Being welcomed into their bedroom to watch them fuck? Whatever foolish expectations I’d had, I certainly hadn’t expected to be mopping Callum’s urine from the floor while they forgot I was even there.

When I was done I decided to look around. I told myself that I wasn’t snooping, I was doing what I’d been instructed: checking the house to make sure it was tidy. I had to admit to myself though that I was doing it more out of curiosity than duty.

When I got to the top of the stairs I could already hear Winston’s moans. Callum was obviously giving him a vigorous dicking down, because his moans had this mix of both pain and desperation, and I could hear him begging Callum to keep fucking him like that. My pants were starting to tent listening to them go at it.

I got a little closer to the room, the sounds getting louder as I got closer. I was cautious not to get too close though, in case they heard my movements. I remembered Callum’s instructions to stay away from the bedroom unless told to. I stood there for a few minutes and just let the sound of Winstons’ bliss wash over me, my cock getting harder and harder in my pants.

Eventually though I figured I should actually do my job. I reluctantly headed downstairs, disappointed I’d miss out on hearing the moment when Callum came inside my husband.

I vacuumed and mopped in the main living area. It took almost two hours because the room was fucking huge. Then I went into the kitchen, and prepped some vegetables for Johannes. We chatted a bit; he seemed nice enough, but I could tell from the way he avoided asking me certain questions that he knew all about my relationship with Winston and why I was there.

After I was done prepping, I came out of the kitchen to find the big glass doors out to the pool open. I wandered out there, to find Winston lying naked on a sun lounger, reading a book.

“Hey babe,” I said to him.

“Oh hey,” he replied, barely looking up.

“How was it?” I asked.

“How was what?” It took him a second to realise what I was asking. “Oh, yeah, fucking amazing. God, my ass is fucking wrecked.”

I was hoping Winston would offer to let me lick the cum out of him like he usually did at home. I didn’t know how to bring it up - or if I should even ask - though, so I just kind of stood there expectantly for what seemed like a solid minute or so.

“Two ice teas,” Callum’s voice said from behind me.

I turned around to find him standing there, naked, big meaty cock and balls hanging low. Man he was toned.

“Yes sir,” I said, instantly feeling stupid that I’d added the ‘sir’.

As I disappeared into the house I heard him say to Winston, “You know you don’t need to make conversation with him, right? If you keep humouring him he’ll think he can just talk to you whenever he wants.”

When I returned with the ice teas, neither of them even looked up at me. I just set the drinks down and made myself scarce.