by Blaise Quin
Emily looked down at her food and almost retched.
She fumbled in her purse for a tissue, covering her mouth. Why was it worse here at work? At home, she had almost no second thoughts. In fact, when in bed with Justin, in bed, she’d even fantasized about. . .
She was ashamed, but she couldn’t help it. She hadn’t even told Justin yet, but she knew he must suspect.
When she looked up her friends were standing by the table.
“Hi Emily! You’re here early!”
Emily breathed a sigh of relief. They didn’t know. Not yet.
Later that day, Emily was packing up her stuff to go home. She felt better, although the topic hadn’t left her thoughts all day.
She’d have to talk to Justin about everything, and soon. She just didn’t quite know what to say, because her thoughts were so confused.
Her phone beeped with a text. Lisa.
Emily had been putting off calling her sister. She wasn’t sure what to tell her, what she could bear to tell her.
How did it go?
Emily’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard. Was this a conversation to have by texting? Or at all? She’d have to deal with it sooner or later. Good, she typed.
Good? !?!?!?
Emily smiled. Lisa had been with Dwayne, intimately, many times. Lisa knew. Emily texted back: Why couldn’t it have been good?
A disaster or incredible. Nothing else is possible.
Emily laughed. Lisa knew her, and Dwayne, too well. The keypad waited silently, impersonal, a psychiatrist, a confessor. It was easier to tell it the truth than tell herself. Better than incredible. You were right. About everything.
Emily had just pushed the elevator button for the garage level when Marie came running down the hall. Emily held the door open for her.
“Thanks,” said Marie. “I hate waiting on a Friday, I just want to get home.”
“Me too,” said Emily. “I’m looking forward to the weekend. It’s been a rough week.” In more ways than one.
“Might be the last weekend you get off for a while,” said Marie.
“What?”
Marie frowned at her. “Didn’t you hear? The company that wants to buy us is moving to the next step. Your good friend Antonio will be back in from Spain. Early next month.”
“He’s not—.” Emily felt her cheeks redden and turned away, praying Marie didn’t notice. Antonio had been the man who had kissed her. The man she’d kissed back. Don’t protest too much, Emily cautioned herself. Marie will be suspicious. . . Emily hid her embarrassment with a smile. “You mean, I might have to be his liaison again.”
“I’m sure you will. You must have done well the first time, otherwise I’m sure he wouldn’t be coming back.”
“I doubt it had much to do with me. I didn’t hear anything about it, maybe you or Cyndee will get to babysit him.” Emily tried to make it sound like a chore.
“Oh, come on, it can’t be all bad, having lunch and dinner with a handsome suave European.”
Emily tried to read Marie’s face, was she implying anything? “Does anyone say suave these days?”
Marie laughed. “That’s the word that comes to mind.”
The elevator stopped. “How come you know about this and I don’t?” asked Emily.
“The email got sent a few minutes ago, you must have just missed it.”
“They’ll probably be sending a whole team,” said Emily, not sure if that’s what she wanted or not.
At home, Emily peeled off her work clothes, switching to yoga pants with a loose tee shirt. That’s what she normally wore when relaxing, but tonight she was driven to look as unsophisticated, as un-dressed up as possible. She wanted to look exactly the opposite of what a suave European would be attracted to.
She didn’t have to look at herself in a mirror to realize it wasn’t enough. She unclipped her hair, messing it up around her head. Ran into the bathroom, scrubbed off her makeup.
Almost.
Justin still wasn’t home, his night out with the guys. She wanted to talk to him tonight. They’d danced around the topic looming overhead, it was time to deal with it head on.
She tossed herself a salad. Normally she’d eat at the table, even by herself. Tonight she took the bowl and sat cross legged on the sofa, still trying to act the way she thought a sophisticated European would not.
She needed to practice, to find a way to get herself in a frame of mind and appearance so that Antonio would not want her as he had before.
And to keep herself from wanting him.
When she had met Antonio, the idea of being with another man had been a fantasy, an emerging titillation. Never did she think she’d go through with it. Antonio kissing her had been even farther than she thought she’d ever go.
Now that she’d been with Dwayne, what excuse could she use for not being with Antonio if he wanted her?
And if she wanted him?
This was ridiculous. She wasn’t going to sleep with every man she was attracted to. She still loved Justin. They’d had their exciting kinky experience, time to get back to reality. Even if she was tempted she could easily fight it off.
Emily took a few more bites, considering. Maybe it would be better to not face the temptation at all. There was no way a elite gentleman like Antonio would want a grungy American. She wished she could belch, that would turn him off.
She jumped up and ran to the refrigerator. Got a bottle of beer. She hated beer, but popped it open and took a cringing swallow. She didn’t even bother with a glass.
She’d make it so Antonio wouldn’t give her a second glance.
I got home later than usual. I might have been avoiding having the conversation with Emily that I knew we had to have. So I’d stayed at the bar, having a few drinks too many, and then had waited an hour, pounding down water. The single guys weren’t used to me staying out, so they kept egging me on to drink. I gave in without too much of a fight.
At ten I texted Emily to tell her I was still out, not to wait up. Everything’s fine, I added. That might have been a lie if it referred to what was going on in my head instead of the night out.
Emily got the text from Justin. Of all nights, she thought. Just when I really needed to be with him. But he had been working so hard, and he rarely went out without her. Besides, she couldn’t very well tell Justin she wanted him home to keep her mind off of Antonio.
Her body was tired but her mind was wound up. She tried reading, watching tv. Finally she just crawled into bed, leaving a light on in the entry and the upstairs hall for Justin.
She closed her eyes, but every time she did all she could see was Antonio. His rugged, olive skin and his intriguing gray eyes. His refined clothing, his self assured walk, screaming of power. And his sexy accent. She’d been smitten the same way she might have been smitten as a teenager with an older boy. Not quite the way she’d fallen in love with Justin, but more of how she might have felt about a young movie star. Not a real person, in some ways, because it was all a fantasy, not a man she’d meet in real life.
Emily wondered if her mind had painted a false portrait of Antonio, whether he really was that handsome, that sexy. She could be kidding herself, right now.
At the time he had seemed real enough. She could still feel his lips on her. . .
He had touched her breast.
Just a brush, after he had kissed her. After she’d kissed him back. He had wanted her to go to his hotel room. She hadn’t, but if she saw him again and had another opportunity, who was to say? After all, she’d already slept with Dwayne.
No, it wasn’t going to happen. She had more self control than that.
Justin. What if Justin wanted her to sleep with Antonio?
She hadn’t considered that. She’d been so focused on getting control of her own urges. What if she managed to hold her desires in check, but Justin couldn’t?
She listened carefully for any sound of Justin’s arrival. He was out especially late. He’d texted, so she wasn’t
especially worried. It wasn’t like she suspected him of being with another woman.
Like her dinner with Antonio that was supposed to be work but turned out to be more like a date.
Which of course made her think of that night again. Lying in the dark, it was so easy to relive it, to make it better, perfect.
Instead of Antonio leaving her in the car, she had gone up to his room. Just the two of them. He’d opened a bottle of champagne. He was so different from Dwayne, from Justin.
Emily could only love one man, but now that she had accepted that she could be aroused by other men, with a sudden clarity she realized that part of her arousal might be because they were different. As if senses she never knew she had were awakened by just the newness of an alternative stimuli. Broad shoulders. Black skin. A foreign accent.
A different cock.
Her hand had slipped between her legs. She tried to convince herself she was having a natural reaction, that her body was simply responding to these stimuli, it was beyond her control. Just as she would get goosebumps from a chill, or sweat from the hot sun.
Could it be as simple as that? Just arousal to variation?
It had to be more. . .she kept thinking about Antonio. Marie and Cyndee had felt it too. Antonio was different, special, sexy.
Justin hadn’t even met him, yet Justin had seen how Antonio had been reflected in her, how she had absorbed and held on to Antonio’s arousal. How she had brought home to Justin her own arousal for Antonio.
She pictured herself in the hotel room with Antonio. How would he make love to her? She was sure he would be different from Justin and Dwayne. He’d whisper in her ear, telling her how beautiful she was, just as he had that night, commenting not just on her sexuality but her entire self, making her feel special, beautiful.
He’d make love to her with his words, with his hands, with his mouth. With one hand she touched her breast, a gentle caress. Her other hand pushed under her panties, onto her mound. She had no specific image now, she wouldn’t spoil her fantasy with particulars, simply letting Antonio’s presence waft over her.
She was so immersed in her fantasy, so aroused, that even when she heard a car pull in the driveway she kept going, her wrist pressed against her mound, three fingers swirling circles around her clit. Not even the sound of the door opening stopped her, not even the sound of him coming up the stairs kept her from her powerful orgasm, her lips pressed together to keep from screaming.
I’d called a uber, since I didn’t want to take the chance driving. I could pick my car up from the bar the next day. I wasn’t drunk, but had a little buzz going.
There were only a few lights on in the house, Emily must have gone to bed. I tried to be as quiet as I could as I crept up the stairs. I heard a small sound from the bedroom, maybe Emily was still awake. I didn’t want to startle her, so I said quietly, “It’s just me.”
The bedroom door was open, the light from the hall spilling into the bedroom. Emily was in bed, facing me. “I thought you’d be sleeping,” I said.
“I was waiting for you.”
I gave her a peck on the head, sat on the bed, and pulled off my shoes. “Sorry it’s so late,” I explained. “We got to talking, you know, just the guys. Blowing off a little steam from the week.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “You must be tired. Here, let me help you.”
Before I knew what was happening she had slipped out of the bed and was on her knees in front of me, pulling at my belt, sliding down my pants. My mind was processing slowly, a combination of the alcohol and being tired and the sheer surprise. Emily yanked down my pants and underwear in one motion.
Then took me in her mouth.
I hadn’t actually been expecting sex that night, since I had figured she’d be sleeping. Normally her touch would excite me, but my daze and confusion, and her no prelude approach, all contributed to me not having an immediate erection.
Which meant Emily was able to take me totally and completely in her mouth.
She moaned between my legs, perhaps as surprised at this as I was. I don’t think I’d ever had that experience in my life. Usually by the time I’d ever gotten this far with a woman—especially Emily—so much kissing and touching had gone on that I’d have a flaming erection.
Emily did something with her mouth, every sensation totally new to me. I could actually feel myself start to grow inside her, her mouth coaxing, teasing, pulling, sucking.
I almost turned on the light, I so wanted to see. Instead I moved her hair aside. My cock was still completely in her mouth, and I sensed she was trying to keep it that way, while at the same time getting me hard. She moaned again, the head of my cock now hitting something hard. Her cheeks filled, her head moved side to side, and still she kept all of me in her mouth.
My mind cleared as if it had been erased clean of all competing thoughts, now totally focused on what she was doing to me. On her knees, encompassing me. Her moans grew loader, suggesting an internal struggle, a fight to keep me surrounded.
I took her head in mine, fighting the urge to push into her, or pull her toward me. The very sight of her, the very idea of her attacking me this way overcame my fatigue, overwhelmed my second thoughts about where our sex life had gone.
I swelled in her mouth, hard.
And with a gasp she finally pulled away, breathing hard, like she’d just reached the level of her endurance.
Before I could move her mouth was on me again, using her lips to crawl down my shaft, lower and lower, until she had almost all of me in her mouth again. This time she couldn’t make it, but seeing how she was trying so hard to get most of my cock in her tiny mouth made me squirm with delirium. Again she broke free, taking in a huge gulp of air.
“Emily. . .”
Her only answer was to gather me in once again. When she pulled back she dragged her lips along my shaft. Without letting my cock free she reversed the motion, back and forth, up and down.
Jerking me off with her lips.
“Emily. . .” I repeated. This time it was more of a caution.
Without stopping what she was doing her hand went to my face, covering my mouth, shushing me. Automatically I kissed her fingers, a familiar musk filling my nostrils. Her unique scent, her juices, on her fingers. Sex. She’d been having sex. . .
I exploded into her mouth without warning, out of control, just as she had taken me deep. My cum must have shot down her throat, because she made this strange sound, yet instead of pulling fully away she barely moved her head. I swelled and jerked, emptying a huge load into her desperate mouth, expecting her to let go, or gag, or turn her head, yet she took it all, grasping my cock tightly with her lips after my entire arsenal was expended.
Emily had yanked Justin’s pants off mostly out of guilt, reeling from her fantasy about Antonio. Her husband was coming up to bed, and she was not only thinking about another man, but still touching herself even as she had heard Justin come up the stairs.
Shame on her. Justin couldn’t know, but she certainly did. So out of guilt she wanted to make it up to him, an apology for an affront he hadn’t even realized she’d committed.
She’d taken him by surprise, his entire penis fitting easily into her mouth. It was a new sensation for her, and her insight into new sensations must have made her extra vulnerable for this one, because she was instantly fascinated by the feeling. It wasn’t hard, it wasn’t a shaft, the skin wasn’t tight and smooth. It felt so—different. She toyed with him, using her lips, exploring with her tongue. Even the head had a new feel.
The idea of him being inside her mouth in entirety was exciting. For once she could have all of him. It immediately made her think of a cock in her pussy, the indescribable feeling of completely accepting and engulfing a man. At one time she would have thought Justin, about having Justin in her. Now she simply thought a man, because she’d come to accept that it could be another man.
When he started to grow she was torn, she was going to lose the feeling of having al
l of him, and yet she was thrilled at yet another new sensation, making him hard in her mouth.
Even though she’d just had an orgasm, a new excitement welled up in her, from her belly to her neck to her mouth. He was growing inside her. It was indescribable, and knowing she was doing it to him made it all the more exciting. She fought to keep all of him in her mouth. She’d never taken Justin all the way. Dwayne had pushed into her mouth, and she’d only been able to take half of him. With Justin, she might have a chance.
As he grew and thickened she shifted her mouth, opening her throat, suddenly wanting it so much, wanting him to be fully erect in her mouth.
Justin’s hand was on her head, not pushing. Still he grew, her mouth swelling, her throat constricting. . .it was too much, she had to pull away. She gasped for air, not wanting to give up, diving back for more.
“Emily. . .”
She ignored him, it was all about her mouth, him in her mouth. She tried again to take all of him, too late, he was too hard now, so she tightened her mouth and dragged it along his now tight skin, just as she imagined her pussy lips had dragged along Dwayne’s thick cock. . .
With that new image in her head she repeated it again and again, her mouth now a pussy, grasping, pulling, accepting.
“Emily. . .”
She didn’t want to hear his voice, not now. She smashed her hand over his mouth. She had started this for him, but now it was for her too, the wonderful arousal from giving. She knew even before he did when he was ready, wanting it, going deep, her lips so tight she swore she could feel the gush of his seed along his shaft. He was so deep in her that she felt his ejaculation before she tasted it, shooting right down her throat, hard spasms pushing against her lips, exactly like a man deep inside her might shoot his seed into her womb.
I fell back onto the bed, still wearing just my shirt. Emily lay next to me, her hand loosely on my thigh.
