Page 1 of Obsessed with the Man of the House

1

Vanessa

It’s been a pretty good day. Actually, better than pretty good –verygood, seeing that the Cartier store finally got the latest model of their iconic Love bracelet. It’s a tricky little thing. The bracelet isn’t much to look at because it’s just a gold-colored band with a simple motif decorating the edges. But it locks onto your wrist with a miniature key, and the only way to get the bracelet off is to have someone “unlock” you with a special screwdriver. Cute, right? Obviously, the gimmick got me because I just bought a rose-gold version for thousands of dollars.

I look down at my wrist where the jewelry glints and sigh with pleasure. It’s good to be me. I’m saying that because for the first time in my life, I have my own money. Lots of it too. I tell people that I’m a real estate agent, and that I work hard-play hard, yada yada yada, but myrealsource of income is as a cam girl. Yes, I perform naughty deeds for an appreciative audience, and lots of men pay me good money to flirt and tease on-line.

But my job isn’t easy. Being a cam-girl isn’t the type of thing where you can set it and forget it. Instead, I’ve basically become a first-class videographer, editor, and social media promoter, in addition to performing all of my shows. I’m my own IT tech, and I’ve also become a pro at sewing my own costumes in the process too. Trust me, you can get some cute bikinis from novelty stores, but it’s not enough for what I do. I like my outfits to fit well on screen, which means I’ve basically become a seamstress, tucking and nipping the fabric to enhance my natural assets, while also adding some sequins and glitter for good effect.

And baby, do I have assets. I’m what’s called a BBW, or a generously-sized curvy girl. There are all sorts of bigger girls out there, but some are smaller and some are larger. I’m on the larger side. I don’t fit into the styles at Lane Bryant or Torrid, and in fact, I hardly even shop at plus-size stores anymore. Instead, I sew my own outfits so that I have ready access to flattering, form-fitting clothes to wear, and I swear, at some point in the future I’m going to open up a plus-sized boutique offering couture for ladies who want to shine. It’s the least I can do to contribute to my community.

But for now, I’m happy living the double life of a real-estate agent slash cam girl. Everyone thinks that I go off to work in the mornings, showing houses and meeting clients, and the truth is that Idohave a broker’s license, and I have clients too. I’ve even sold a couple houses in our little town of Hartsville, and made some substantial cash while doing it.

But my real estate work isn’t enough to afford Cartier bracelets and the other luxuries that I’ve come to enjoy. Instead, it’s my on-line persona that brings in the majority of my income. I love being sassy and flirty on camera, and doing naughty things as a rapt audience watches. I love hearing the distinct “ding” of a man tipping me, and I love showing them my generous assets and being called “Queen.”

But today, I’m playing hooky. I had a morning meeting with a potential buyer at 6 a.m., and then another breakfast meeting at 9 a.m. with a potential seller. Who knew that so many folks would be entering the housing market at this time? Even crazier, who knew that folks were so busy that they’re only available for breakfast? Regardless, I always accommodate my clientele, and both meetings are over now. But instead of heading to the gym, or recording a sexy video, I’ve decided to head home for lunch. It’s been a long day, even if it’s only 11 a.m., and I want to use that new waffle iron I bought last week that’s shaped like a heart.

As a result, I get into my SUV and glide down the small streets of Hartsville. It’s a cute little town. I’ve lived here ever since my mom married Gray Thomas, my stepdad. Sadly, they got divorced soon after, and Renata moved out in order to take up with our pool boy. But I stayed with Gray because frankly, my mom and her new boyfriend didn’t want me around. Renata and her man were likely engaging in a sordid, sex-fueled lifestyle, and I would have been in the way.

Gray’s been good to me though. My stepdad was kind when my mom left, although I can’t imagine what it must have been like when Renata announced she was taking up with the pool boy. Not only that, but I think he pays my mom alimony, so she and her man are literally living offhismoney. Clearly, life isn’t fair, but my stepfather seems to take it in a stride. Maybe it’s because Gray has so much money that the alimony payments are nothing to him. Or maybe, he never loved Renata to begin with.

But yes, I’m the beneficiary of Gray’s wealth. My stepfather runs a successful construction business, and as a result, we live in a palatial manor built by Gray’s company. Thomas Builders is known as the go-to construction outfit in our area, and they’ve built all sorts of structures around town, including the library, the teen rec center, and even that new shopping mall in the Libertyville neighborhood. Business is so good, in fact, that I haven’t seen much of my stepfather for ages. Years, even. It seems Gray’s always at the office, at a work site, or cloistered in his home office on the first floor. I have no idea what goes through that man’s mind – all I know is that he’s not available.

But it’s okay because it makes it easier to keep my secret life hidden. Of course, I’m not recording sexy videos at home. Hell no, because that would be a recipe for disaster. Instead, I rent a small office suite about fifteen minutes away that houses my real estate business. I keep an office for Vanessa Loudon, licensed real estate broker, but I also have a separate space for my video equipment and private camming sessions. The debauchery that goes on in that small filming area would make a grown man’s eyes pop out.

But now, it’s time for lunch. My stomach growls, and I pat it fondly.

“Hungry again, hm? Well, don’t worry because there’s some leftover turkey from last night. How about if I make a big turkey sandwich, complete with melted brie and cranberry sauce? That sounds good, right?”

My stomach growls again in appreciation and I giggle. I’ve never been a girl to hide my appetite because what’s the point? All humans need sustenance to survive, and I think that food, and eating in general, is one of the great pleasures of being alive. Giggling again, I pull into our driveway and jump out of my SUV before flipping a long lock of brown hair over one shoulder. My mouth’s already watering in anticipation of lunch, and I half-walk, half-trot to the front door, ready to enjoy myself.

But when I push the front door open, I stop in the foyer. Weird. There are voices coming from the living room, and I wonder who it is. Could it be Gray? My stepdad isn’t usually at home this time of day, so I thought the house would be empty.

Slowly, I creep down the hallway, my footsteps muffled by the heavy pile carpeting. Then, I peer into the living room, and my eyes go as round as saucers. My stepdad is indeed home, but he’s not alone. Instead, there’s a woman lying on the couch with her legs up and her skirt pulled up. What in the world is going on? She’s a skinny little thing with her blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, and a demanding air about her.

“Are you ready now?” she asks in an impatient voice.

My stepfather steps forward, a harsh flush on his high cheekbones. Gray’s always been a handsome man with his raven hair and bright blue eyes, but at the moment, he seems subdued.

“Yeah,” he says in a low voice, his eyes averted from the woman in front of him.

“Good,” the blonde woman purrs. Then, she reaches down and pulls off her panties before tossing the lace to one side. The blonde woman props one leg on the back of the couch with the other on the floor, so that she’s baring her pussy to my stepdad, and from what I can tell, he doesn’t like what he sees. His blue eyes skid over her thin frame before skittering away, and the skin around his eyes tenses.

“What are you waiting for?” the blonde whines. “If you want a loan to save Thomas Builders, then you better get down to business. After all, Countryside doesn’t offer loans for nothing.”

“You mean, in addition to the heinous interest rates you charge?” my stepdad rasps in a low voice, still averting his eyes.

“Oh that?” the woman asks in a dismissive tone. “Yeah, we make our money by instituting double digit interest rates. It’s highway robbery, I admit. But you know the rules. If you want a loan to save your business, then you better get down to it right now, big boy! Come on!” she says in an impatient tone, gesturing between her thighs. “I’m not getting any younger!”

Holy shit, am I really hearing this? Is this woman demanding oral sex in return for a loan? My mouth drops open, but the scene continues to play out, and it’s clear that my stepfather doesn’t like what he sees. Gray clears his throat, his eyes skimming over her exposed privates, and he winces a bit.

I don’t blame him because even from my spot in the hallway, I can tell that this is a woman who likes to go to the tanning salon …a lot. Except she doesn’t wear the salon-issued paper panties while in the tanning bed. Instead, this woman goes totally bare, and as a result, her pussy is leathery, orange, and dried out. When she reaches down to pull her labia apart, the insides look like the skin of a shriveled apricot, and not the juicy goodness of a glistening grapefruit.

Meanwhile, Gray’s reluctance is coming off him in waves. His broad shoulders are tense, and I can see his pulse beating at his temple.

“Are you sure there isn’t another way?” my stepfather rasps, swallowing hard to contain his distaste. “You know this isn’t what loan officers are supposed to do.”

The blonde woman rolls her eyes.

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