The Cableman & the Lonely Wife

The last job of the day. The last job of the day.

I kept this at the forefront of my mind as I walked up the sidewalk. All I had to do was fix whatever technical issue they were having with their cable box, probably a user error, then I was free to go home to my bottle of Hennessey and the newest episode of Hoarders.

The front door opened, a brotha in slacks and a button down extending his hand to me.

"What's up, my man? Come on in. Let me show you what's going on."

He led me to an extravagant living room, high ceilings and huge windows letting in plenty of sunlight. He was clearly doing well for himself. "I've tried multiple HDMIs, but this is where we're at. No picture. Maybe it's a bad box and you just need to switch them out?"

I went to the back of the tv to check out the HDMI myself and try the ones I had on me.

"This gone take long? I have a flight to catch."

"I'm not sure. I need to do some troubleshooting to double check that the box is the problem. If it is, I'm going to have to reprogram the new one. This could take a while."

He heaved a breath, checked the Apple Watch on his wrist. "Alright. You know what? My son is here." He began typing on his phone. The whoosh of an iMessage being sent. "He'll be down in a minute in case you need anything. I have to go."

He grabbed a duffel bag off the kitchen counter and was out the door.

Now all I had to do was finish this as quickly as possible and be out of here too.

Turned out it was a bad box. I went ahead and switched them out, programmed the new one, made sure all the recorded programs transferred over, and I was ready to leave. The son hadn't made his way down in the hour it took to do everything, and I needed to tell someone I was leaving. A few months back a cable man left without telling the old dude, who had fallen asleep in his den. When the front door never got locked and dude got robbed, our company denied liability but made it a new policy to always inform someone in the house we were leaving.

I didn't want to go hunting nobody down though. I called the number on the account, which I assumed was the dad's. It went straight to voicemail.

Shit. It would be the last job that takes forever to close.

Upstairs, all the doors were opened, nobody in any of the rooms. The last door on the right of the hallway was cracked and, lo and behold, someone was inside. My hand raised to knock, but I was stopped in my tracks by what I saw through the opening.

A woman undressing.

The only other time I'd seen a woman undressing on the job was when a white lady 'forgot' I was there and left the bathroom door open. That had been a traumatic experience, especially when she started coming on to me. If this brown-skinned, curly afro-wearing, shapely woman was to repeat that experience, she would've healed that wound.

I immediately looked away, reminding myself that I had sisters and a mother and if a man ever peeped on them-

But goddamn, she reminded me of a friend my mom's had when I was fourteen. That was when puberty hit me like a piano on a cartoon character's head, girls my age ceasing to be on my radar, my mom's and aunties' friends the center of my fantasies. Monica had been thick like one of those teddy bears you won at the state fair. Could hardly wrap your arms around her. Extra meat on the bones for your appetite, and when I tell you I had an appetite bigger than my six foot, two hundred pounds hinted at, believe me.

I forced myself to knock on the door. "Cableman."

"One minute," she called back.

When she opened the door, she was in a silk, black robe. That didn't help the perverted thoughts floating my mind, her nipples perking through the material.

"I thought Reggie was handling this," she said.

"He left about an hour ago. Said his son was up here if I needed anything"

She sighed. "Our son is gone for the weekend. I'm sorry, but I don't know anything about what's going on. You'll have to call him-"

"Everything's fixed. I was just letting you know I was leaving."

"Oh, ok."

"Are you his wife?"

"Yes. Do I need to sign something?"

"No. I was just..." Just being nosey.

"Are all the shows I recorded gone?"

"No. They're on the new box."

"Whew." She wiped invisible sweat off her forehead. "I have so many hours of Real House Wives of Atlanta on there. I would be lost without them."

"That's an impressive collection. I think I saw the very first episodes on your box."

She laughed. "No, you didn't."

"But you know they're on streaming services, right? You don't have to record them."

"I know. I just prefer the old school way. Besides, why pay for a streaming service when I'm already paying for cable? Might as well just record the things I want to watch over and over. Plus, those streaming services always taking shows off. And like I said, I'd be lost without my Housewives." She cleared her throat. "Anyways, let me not keep you from your work."

"This is actually my last job of the day."

"Sounds like an invitation for me to keep talking about my reality TV addiction."

"I mean, if you want to. Just know I charge by the hour."

She smiled back at me, and for a few seconds we stood there just smiling at one another like smitten teenagers.

"Would you like a water or something?" she blurted out awkwardly. "I didn't know you were down there or else I would've been more hospitable."

"Water would be cool," I responded just as awkwardly.

What the fuck was I doing? I had plenty of water at home, not to mention that bottle of Hennessy waiting for me.

I followed her downstairs to the kitchen, that colossal ass of hers moving outrageously beneath that cloth, the cheeks nearly eating it up. She sat a glass on the marble countertop and poured a fresh bottle of water into it, handing it to me.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

I drank the water all the way down, feeling her watching me, feeling too flustered to meet her eyes over the glass. I needed an escape plan before I did something stupid that might not only cost me my job and livelihood, but also my jaw.

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Twenty-nine. Why?"

There was a beat before she said, "Just wondering." She glanced at my hand. "Not married?"

"Nope, not married."

"Girlfriend?"

"No girlfriend either."

She took my glass and put it in the sink, giving me another glimpse of that ass. She turned back around too soon.

"You're very handsome," she said. "Hard to believe no woman has snatched you up yet."

"They've tried, but..."

"But what? You're not the settling down type?"

"It's not that. I just haven't found my type of woman yet."

"What type of woman is that?"

A woman with your body type and a winning personality. And decent credit. And her own place. And a job, or some type of income. And- The real reason I was single was because I had that whole list of requirements that I asked about and mentally checked off while talking to a woman. When they missed a few, it was bye bye baby. Which meant lonely nights and solo holidays for me.

"How long you been married?"

She blew out a breath. "A long, long time."

"Ten, fifteen years?"

"Something like that."

"Are you happy?"

She looked around the kitchen like the answer was written on the cabinet doors. "Happiness means something different for everyone. Some people define it by money in the bank. Some by how many name brand things they possess. Some by how big their family is."

"I define it by whether you have your peace of mind or not. Do you have that?"

Silence settled around us as she considered my question. She was thinking long and hard like her marriage hung in the balance of her answer, like she was talking to a minister or therapist, not just a cableman.

"I have peace of mind right now, talking to you."

I appreciated her changing the subject. We'd made the atmosphere too cloudy, too coated in a reality neither of us wanted to think about.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked right on cue.

I snickered. "It would be disrespectful to say."

"Go ahead. Be disrespectful. You have my permission."

I interlocked my fingers on the countertop, looked from her white toenails and gold anklets to her thick thighs and big titties, her plump lips and sultry eyes, the mane of hair on her head. "I'm thinking about that robe you're wearing."

She smiled, her eyes gleaming. "What about it? Would you like to know where I got it so you can also get one?"

Ha. She had jokes. "That's exactly what I'm thinking. I doubt it'll fit me like it fits you though. You have the curves for it."

"Nothing but curves and mountainous land here."

"I can see that."

"You must like your women on the bigger side."

"I do."

"Can you handle a bigger sista though?"

Fuck around and find out. But again, I was aware of the reality of the situation. Her husband could turn around for any reason - maybe he forgot his wallet, maybe some files for work, maybe his deodorant. He could come home to find me knee deep in his woman and feel some way about it. He looked like the type to have a few guns around the house.

There was no mistaking the flirtatious vibe in the air. If we kept going on, it was only a matter of time before we crossed the line where there was less talking and more action.

She must've seen that I was on the fence about what was happening and wanted to push me onto one specific side, because she stepped to me, closing the space between us. I could smell the shea butter on her skin, the coconut oil in her hair. She smelled good as hell. She looked good as hell, staring up at me with those brown eyes that had seen more than I had, but looked at me like she'd never seen a man she wanted more than me.

As we stared at each other, my breathing quickened, my heart pounding with the strength it took not to grab her and give her more dick than she could probably handle. But all the power was hers. She made the first move or nothing was going to happen.

Her hesitance was as strong as mine. Was the fact that she was married also what had her in the chokehold?

"We don't have to," I heard myself say. I don't know why I said it, because I wanted to. I wanted to badly. I guess I just didn't want her to feel obligated to go all the way just because we were both feeling it, or just because she was mere centimeters away from me. She could still step back if she was having second thoughts and there would be no hard feelings.

"I want to," she said.

"But..."

"But..." Her eyes lowered from mine. "I've never cheated on him."

The mention of him popped the bubble we had been in. Now the world was back into view. I wanted to step away from her, but shit, I couldn't put space between us to save my life. The front door would have to come crashing down and he would have to be the one to rip us apart.

"Like I said, it's all good. We don't have to."

"But I want to."

"But you don't want to cheat on your husband."

"But he doesn't want me. He hasn't for years. No matter what I wear or how I do my hair or how much weight I've lost. He hardly looks at me. But here you are, seeing me in this raggedy robe and I just took out my two strand twists. I'm looking busted as all get out. But you're looking at me like my husband never has in our twenty years of marriage."

I cupped her face in my hands and I kissed her lips, all resistance broken like a dam. Her hands grasped at my shirt, pulling me as close as two bodies could be.

That robe was history as I pulled the tie loose and flung that thing across the kitchen. I grasped her ass with both hands, my dick happy as hell to feel her softness against it. I spun her around and bent her over the kitchen counter, dropping to my knees. I proceeded to eat her pussy until she was thrashing and hardly able to stand. I still didn't stop working my mouth on her clit, slapping that fat ass, using my hands to keep it spread so I had full access to her.

Imagine my shock when she let out a whimper and my face became drenched in warm liquid. Never had I ever been with a squirter. The thrill of her squirting on my face was more than I could handle. I needed to feel that gushing pussy.

I was too anxious to take my pants off. I unbuttoned them and slid them down with my boxers until my dick popped out. I spread her ass again and watched my dick disappear in her pink hole. Fuck, she was tight and wetter than any I'd ever been in.

I had to run that back. I pulled all the way out, intent on re-entering her ever so slowly, but the way she whined, "Mmm, put it back in" and made that ass clap to entice me made me feel too powerful.

"You want this big dick, baby? Huh?"

"Yessss."

"Tell me you want this big dick."

"I want that big dick."

I slid it all the way in, a gasp escaping her, her body tensing. Yeah, she wasn't used to having this much in her.

That warm liquid gushed on my dick, nearly taking my control away. It took every ounce of self-control to pull out again.

She whined and made that ass clap for me. My glistening dick jerked in response, begging to go back in her. I slapped her ass cheeks.

"Give it to me," she whined. "Give me that big dick."

I understood her need to be fucked, to be wrecked, after not having dick in so long, but I wanted slow and deep. I wanted to savor how new and good and amazing she felt.

Our body's slapped together as I set the slow tempo, her ass moving like waves in the ocean. The way she was squirting on my dick definitely felt like we were at sea.

"I'm coming," she moaned, throwing it back with all her strength.

I couldn't take it. It had been a long time for me as well and she felt too fucking good. I couldn't hold it, couldn't savor it any longer.

My head flung back as I came, my hips thrusted forward, dick buried completely in her. "Shitttttttt," I growled, feeling like my soul had left my body. My knees were weak when I finally regained my sight.

She turned around and kissed me deep. Her lips nearly sucked mine off my face.

"Don't go," she said. "Stay with me."

"Sounds like you want more."

"More of that. More of you. Absolutely."

"I have someone waiting at home for me. Her name is Henessey."

She went into the cabinet, pulling out an unopened bottle of it.

"I'm yours," I said.

She grabbed some cups. "Good to know what it cost to buy you."

She led the way into the living room. Shit, that ass was all I really needed to convince me to stay. She poured us double shots and grabbed the remote. Unsurprisingly, she turned on the latest episode of Real House Wives.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked, cuddling up next to me. She grabbed the throw blanket off of the back of the couch and covered us with it.

"Nah, I don't mind," I said. I threw my shot back, the fire liquid warming my insides.

We weren't five minutes into the new episode before she was riding and squirting on me.