My Husband Works Nights

My Husband Works Nights

My hair would tug while the comb finished reaching the tips of my hair while I finished up brushing it for the night. I put the brush down and leaned out the bathroom to the living room where my husband was drinking some coffee before he would head off to work. “Have a great night honey,’ I said to him while walking over to the recliner across from him.

His eyes lifted up from the video he was watching on his computer and pulled one of the headphones off his ear and smiled. “What did you say honey,” he said half aware I had even talked to him. I rolled my eyes and smiled. “I said have a great night”, I repeated. He smiled his soft smile and nodded, “I am sure it will be easy, not much happens at night usually.” I looked at the slight tired look in his eyes and wished he would find a day job some time.

My husband was use to the night life after several months at his new job. It was not stressfully job and he truly did enjoy the work. It was my own selfish wish for him to be on a normal day job so that we could spend more time together. As he gulped down the last of his coffee I watched him take the Bluetooth headphones off and set them onto the coffee table and plug them back into the laptop.

As my husband stood up and headed into the kitchen I heard him stack the cup on the counter with all the other dishes. I cringed at how cheap he is with money and has held off buying a dishwasher for our duplex. It may be expensive to buy and install but would be worth it, instead of him having to hear me nag at him to wash the dishes when it was his turn. He leaned around the edge of the wall and smiled, “I know, I know, I will get them when I get home tomorrow morning.” I felt my eyes roll again and smiled. “Sure, you will”, giving him my most whinny wife voice I could.

The red lunch box he always packed was in hand as he walked up to me in my recliner and kissed me on the forehead. “Love ya,” was all he said as he walked down stairs to the back door and out to the car. I let out a long yawn before shutting off the T.V. and walked to the bedroom. I looked down at my body and signed.

My body was not the most in shape…er…I was fat. I reached up and lifted my small boobs, barely Bs, and let them drop from underneath my night shirt. I gave another yawn as I moved to the edge of the bed and set down. I pulled up my cell phone and checked facebook one more time. I turned to my alarm clock, clicking the button up to “On”. With my head on the pillow it did not take long to drift off.

…..

The feeling of a large hand clasping over my mouth woke me from my sleep like a bomb going off. The rush of adrenaline forced my brain into a sudden shriek of panic and fear that only those about to die in a car wreck might feel. That sudden feeling was followed by a soft “Shhhhh”, that came from a deep throated voice.

My hands reached up to grasp at the hand and try to push it away. The muscle that surrounded the forearm was pretty thick and toned in a way that let me know instantly I would not be able to push it away even if I wanted to. I blinked in the pitch-black room. My husband working during the night ment he slept during the day and the windows would be blacked out completely. Suddenly my touch lamp setting on my night stand flicked on blinding me for a moment.

What I finally saw almost had me pissing myself in fear. This was defiantly not my husband. The guy was not quite as tall as him but was far heavier built. His hair was long and in tight corn-rolls with a dark color that matched his skin. The smile on his face was almost wicked when he whispered to me, “If you make any noise I will walk right into your kid’s room and hurt her really bad.” This caused me to freeze in a new level of panic I had never felt.

His other hand was pulled back to his chest and I could clearly see the outline of a knife, and although my husband always carried one, it was terrifying seeing it in this mands hand. Flashes of the worst death and pain he would cause my daughter made tears well up in my eyes and I felt myself struggle to breath as I started to sob into his hand. “Good girl,” was all he said before looking down my body.

When his dark brown eyes came back up to mine he tilted the knife back and forth a few times before speaking. “I have wanted you for awhile now, I got a thing for girls like you.” It was sickening to think he had been watching me. “I just had to figure out when a good time to visit you.” He then pushed the knife down and held it over my face a few inches. “Remember, you make a noise and I will visit that little girl of yours and make sure she knows that it was you that allowed what I do to her to happen.”

After that he pulled the knife back and pulled his hand away from my mouth. I reached up and covered it myself to keep from screaming in fear as I felt more tears roll down my face. “Good girl,” he said again. Holding my hands over my mouth was more out of fear compared to what I wanted to do. To scream out and try and warn my daughter of the danger that was so close to her.

The knife he had seemed to disappear to a holder or pocket in his pants but what his hands did next made me want to puke right there. His hands slowly and deliberately undid the end of his buckle that held up his blue jeans. I closed my eyes but he told me to open them or else. When I forced them back open he let his pants drop along with his boxers. The size was massive compared to my husbands. Maybe about four times as thick and twice as long in its flaccid state.

I shook my head “no” over and over, but kept holding my hands over my mouth. I felt my legs naturally start to squeeze shut, afraid of what was about to happen. To try and meagerly defend myself without incurring the wrath he had promised should I refuse him in anyway.