by Blaise Quin
Whoever he was.
I think I can look back on that night as when our relationship changed yet again. For one thing, we were back on the path we’d temporarily forsaken, the path of sexual experimentation, of talking dirty and watching videos and making up stories about Emily with other men. All of what had been set aside, by unspoken mutual consent, when we had decided to start a family.
In one fell swoop we’d returned with a vengeance. And with that return my libido was reinvigorated, I was horny all the time for Emily. We had sex almost every day, even in the morning before work. Sometimes we talked about our fantasies, about other men with her. But often we didn’t say a word, yet I suspected what thoughts she harbored. And I suspected she knew what I was fantasizing about. This shared realization, that we were both having the same fantasies, was in itself exciting. Often I had only to speak a few words, like “Does he have a big cock?” or “I’m watching you,” to make Emily moan and her eyes flutter.
But what really, really pushed Emily over the edge was when I’d say, “He’s going to come inside you!” She’d dig her fingers into my ass, my back, claw at me in delirium, holding her breath, especially if I was actually shooting inside her.
As bizarre as that sounds, it is what turned both of us on.
Perhaps it was because we’d finally admitted what we’d been thinking, or at least accepted that our fantasies could continue even through this phase of our lives. We were relaxed enough to be excited, if that makes sense.
And so we fucked like rabbits.
Emily leaned over the weight bench, slowly curling back the dumbbell, concentrating on her form. The first time she’d done tricep kickbacks she’d barely managed do to five reps of a two pound weight. She’d been pleased when she’d worked her way up to ten reps of five pounds, only to find out that she’d been doing it all wrong, cheating by swinging her arms. It had been Damian who had corrected her, who had taught her, just as he unknowingly had awakened her terrible secret lust for other men, especially black men.
Damian had sensed her secret desire, yet she’d never given in. Not with him, anyway, though she’d surrendered to him many times in her fantasies.
In a way it was a good thing Damian was her husband’s boss. That way she could never allow herself to succumb to his magnetism, to his cocky yet arousing confidence.
Just thinking of Damian made her heart beat faster. Just because she would never be with him didn’t mean she couldn’t fantasize about him now and then. It was a fantasy she’d never shared with Justin. Even with Justin’s awareness of her desires, she didn’t think he ever even considered her with Damian.
She remembered how in this very gym Damian had laid his hand on her back, guiding her, pushing his manhood into her, evidence of his desire for her as well. Her mind had boggled at how large she thought he would be.
Her repetitions sped up. She had to force herself to slow down, getting hot from more than the exercise. She could almost hear his voice. . .
“Nice form.”
No, that isn’t what he had said. He had criticized her form. It sounded so much like Damian, a trick of her mind.
She turned in mid stroke, her ass thrust out. And there he was, in the doorway, as big and cocky and handsome as ever.
Emily froze, blood rushing in her ears, drowning out the sound of the other women in the room, the clang of the weights, the music.
Damian was unabashedly staring at her, totally unconcerned. He was wearing an outfit similar to what she’d seen him in before, tight football like pants, a skin hugging top. Every inch of visible skin on his arms and legs was ripped with muscles. His smoothly shaven head shone with a thin veneer of sexy sweat, like he was hot just for her.
Emily fought for control, seeing him smile, as if he had discerned her prior thoughts. With a great effort she turned from him and finished her set.
As she shifted to the other leg, she said, “You know you’re in the women’s weight room.”
“I looked for you in the men’s weight room, but you weren’t there.”
Emily blushed in spite of herself. Embarrassed at how she had made that mistake the first time there, and yet inwardly thrilled at Damian’s admission he’d been looking for her. He could have been making it up, but it still made her shudder.
She felt his eyes on her body, at her butt pointing in his face. She closed her eyes, and yet could not shake the image of him.
Still without turning, she said, “I guess I have to thank you, for correcting my ignorance.” And for unleashing wild, crazy, sinful thoughts about you.
“It’s good to hear you say that.”
Emily finished her set, not even feeling the weights. Her body burned, but not from the workout. She sat on the bench, wrapping a towel around her neck, trying to not look at him. She failed, her eyes moving to the doorway, just to catch a glimpse.
Busted. Damian’s eyes were locked on hers, as if he had been waiting for her to look. His face broke into a smug smile.
She glanced around the room. Every women she could see was looking at Damian, some with surreptitious glances, others plainly staring. Every single one.
What were they thinking? Did some of them lust after him? Did all of them? How would they look at her, the obvious focus of his interest?
She felt stifled, she needed to escape. But that meant getting past Damian. She stood up, stretching like she didn’t have a care in the world, but her legs shook. Crossing the room, she felt the other woman turn. Look at her, that hussy! She’s going after him!
Which is exactly what she herself might have thought, at one time. Now her thoughts might have been Look at her, she’s going to get him, she’s so lucky!
Damian’s huge bulk blocked the doorway, and he made no move to let her by. It was exactly what he had done when they had first met, when he had pulled her from the pool, dripping wet.
But that was a different Emily.
Still shaking with desire, but not cowed, she stood in front of him, feigning an impossible calm, and waited.
Long moments passed, their eyes in sexual combat, Emily suspecting every woman in the room was watching.
He was the one who spoke first, and Emily felt a surge, it was as if she had won a contest. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice dripping promise.
“Just to get by,” she said, fully aware that he could read her bodily signals, which screamed a desire entirely different.
“Is that all?”
Emily placed her hand on his chest. It was hard and hot, a stallion after a hard gallop. Or in heat.
She pushed. There was no way she could make him move, but after a second he relented, just enough to give her space. She squeezed past him in the doorway, forced to push her body up against his. She visibly shook, her body quivering so hard he had to feel it too.
The hallway was empty, giving her a modicum of privacy. She turned to him and whispered, “I know what you want. You want me. You want me to admit that I want to be with another man, with you. And you want me to say that I want to be with a big black man.”
Her head swooned as Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. Before he could reply she stood on her toes, almost as if she was about to kiss him, bringing her lips close to his. “I have a secret to share with you. I’ve already had another man. More than one, actually. One of them was a very big black man. Big in every way. Much bigger than you.”
Emily lingered to let the words sink in, her hand back on his chest. “So you’ll have to leave me alone, and that goes for my husband as well. No more sending him off on trips he doesn’t need so you can try to seduce me. No more leering at me in the gym. If you do all that I say, maybe, just maybe, I’ll change my mind. But if I do, I’ll be the one to call you.”
Her fingers dug into his rock hard pecs, a signal of her new confidence, her warning, and perhaps, her promise.
She walked away without looking back, unsure of only one thing.
There was no way he wasn’t as big as Dwayne.
I zipped up my stuffed travel bag. Although I was likely going to be wearing the same outfit of jeans and work books every day, it had been harder to pack for a three month trip than I had expected. Much of the time I would be out on the newly designed oil rig I’d helped design. Given it was the first time this rig was being deployed, I’d be on constant call, getting it ready and monitoring performance. I’d been warned that I might not get home at all during the entire three month or longer startup. I hoped that wasn’t the case, but I planned for the worst.
“Justin, what about this?” Emily came into the bedroom, holding up one of those high tech drip dry tee shirts she’d bought me for jogging.
“The bag’s pretty full, but it’s a good idea.” I wasn’t going to have it anywhere near as tough as the roughnecks and drillers, but I’d be in hot conditions.
“I’m going to miss you,” said Emily.
“We talked about this.”
“I know. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s the longest we’ve been apart.”
“Just think of how good things will be after this, though. If all goes well, I’ll get the bonus, and get started on designing the next upgrade. There’s a chance I won’t have to travel for six months, maybe longer.”
Emily hesitated, then said, “We’ll need to make sure that’s the case.”
I frowned. “Well, nothing’s one hundred percent, you know how my boss Damian is. He gets something in his head and he can’t let go. If he decides I need to be somewhere to take care of a problem, I don’t have much say in it.”
Emily looked like she was going to say something, then sat down on the bed. She looked upset.
I stopped my packing, moved the bag off the bed and sat next to her. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing. I just—now that we. . .”
I took her in my arms, understanding. Now that we’ve decided to have a baby, she meant. Three months apart meant we couldn’t be having sex. “We’ve waited this long, a few more months will be okay,” I said soothingly. “Besides, I always said I wanted to be around when you were pregnant.”
She nodded into my neck, but her petite body was tense.
I couldn’t think of any words that would make the reality of her disappointment go away, so instead I said, “I still have a few hours before I leave for the airport. . .”
Emily lay amidst the pile of Justin’s clothes, better than a security blanket. She should have been worried about wrinkling what he still had to pack, she should have felt selfish for wanting to have sex again before Justin left for the airport. But all she felt was a warm glow, their last joining before he would be away.
He’d finished inside her, as he had for the last few months. Maybe this would be the time. She’d always wondered if she would know when the magic happened, but other than hope, each time felt the same. Wonderful, complete, yet with no certainty. She’d stopped the weekly pregnancy tests, shifting to once a month, carefully marked on her calendar. She’d take the next test in two weeks.
She cuddled closer to Justin. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
It was an old joke, but a new one for them, at least over the last few months. She smiled. She’d miss this too, the closeness.
Justin stroked her hair. “Can I do anything for you?”
Emily understood what he meant. She hadn’t had an orgasm. She’d read about men’s infatuations with women having an orgasm, and still couldn’t understand it. Sure, they were great, but this was a different kind of great. “I’m good.”
Justin rolled on his side, his hand pressed between her legs, the pressure against her mound an intimate embrace. “I know how to make you better.”
She placed her hand over his but turned away so he would not see her reaction. She wondered again if Justin realized she’d only been having orgasms lately when he talked dirty to her. When he made up stories about her with another man. Or told her how much he had been turned on seeing her at the bar flirting. Or seeing her with Dwayne or Antonio.
Justin had done this dozens of times, yet she’d never tired of hearing it. Every time it began, she imagined it had to be another woman, it couldn’t be her doing those things. But by the end of the story Emily would be back in the moment, back with those men, feeling their heat, her response in the past triggering her response in the present, never failing to arouse her. To make her come.
This was a special day, their last time together before Justin left. Emily didn’t want to spoil it with thoughts of other men. But Justin’s fingers caressed her sensitive spot, and it had a mind of its own. She squeezed his hand in an attempt to signal her satisfaction, but it only served to signal him she wanted more.
And she did. Now that it was all in her head, it couldn’t be shaken. She knew this from experience. She’d given up any hope of fighting it, of fighting her desires, her fantasies. Her needs.
Justin nibbled on her neck and whispered in her ear. “It’s going to be hard for you, isn’t it? Three months?”
Emily knew where he was heading, but tried one last time to shift the conversation. “I’ll miss you.”
“I think you’ll miss more than me,” he said. “You’ll miss this too.”
She knew what he meant, not just his fingers on her, being inside her, but the dirty talk. “There’s the phone.”
The stubble on Justin’s chin scraped her neck as he shook his head. “Probably hard to do, I don’t expect there’s much privacy. Besides, cell phones might not work.”
His fingers dipped into her, pulling her wetness over her folds, onto her clit, the sudden change in friction both lessening the immediacy of her nerve endings but at the same time exciting her, reminding her how wet she was, and why. “I’ll be okay,” she said, pressing his hand harder. “I can always do this. But you have no privacy. . .”
“Why else would I need privacy?” he teased.
He wanted her to say it, it turned him on, her talking dirty. “So you can touch yourself,” she whispered.
“Now why would I do that?”
“Because you missed me?”
“Of course. Why else?”
“Because. . .you miss talking to me.”
“About?”
Emily shuddered. She pressed her hips forward, into his hand. “Because you miss talking to me about other men.”
“What about other men?”
“About them. . .” that was normally as far as she would go, Justin usually picked up the story from here. But perhaps she was still being selfish, oddly incomplete even after their sex. “About them having sex with me.”
Justin’s fingers stopped, he was probably surprised. A stirring of his shaft against her thighs made her smile. And keep going. “About them fucking me.”
Justin groaned and pressed into her back, his erection growing, plowing up the crack in her butt. She shuddered again, his tip so close to her tight rear opening. Not that, she thought. Not today. But truth be told, she secretly missed it, him being in her back there.
She’d even fantasized about other men taking her that way.
“Is that what you’re going to be dreaming about when I’m gone? Other men fucking you?”
Emily surrendered, spreading her legs, giving him all the access he wanted. “Is that what you want me to be dreaming about?”
“No.”
That surprised her. “No? You don’t want to be fantasizing about that?”
Justin shifted on the bed, his erection back between her legs, slipping on her smooth thighs. “No. I want to be fantasizing about you actually doing it. Getting fucked.”
He drove into her in one thrust, her wetness easing the way. Emily’s mouth opened wide, in shock, in amazement, in arousal. The enormity of what he said washed over her, the idea of being with another man when he was gone. “No,” she murmured, but her body was responding to his words, her mind no longer had any control. And what little influence it did have only fanned her flames. “No. . .”
Justin t
hrust into her again, pulling her against him, squeezing her tight rear hard so he could reach deep. His fingers flew over her clit, her hand still on his, at first slowing him down, then along for the ride, then guiding him with reckless abandon.
“Say it,” growled Justin.
“No. . .”
“Say it! You want to get fucked, don’t you?”
“Not like that, not like that. . .”
“Maybe you’d rather be on your back? With your legs around him? In the perfect position?”
Emily moaned, his meaning obvious. The perfect position to get pregnant. She shook her head, protesting, “No, no. . .” even as her clit swelled, her juices flowing over his shaft, onto his fingers. The wetness making her think of a man’s seed. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. . .”
Justin groaned and she knew he was close, he must have been so aroused, he had come just minutes before. Her hand was a vice on his, using his fingers to rub herself, pushing back against him, wanting him as deep as possible.
“He’s fucking you,” said Justin. “I won’t be able to see it, you’re going to have to tell me everything. Did you suck on him to make him hard? Did he lick you to get your ready?” Justin pulled out of her almost all the way, and then buried himself deep, holding himself steady, waiting for her.
She was right on the edge, dreading his next words, yet still wanting them. “All of that,” she whispered.
Justin punctuated his next words with long, deep thrusts. “Did. He. Come. In. You?”
Emily held on as long as she could, her muscles contracting around him, holding her breath. His first spasm sent her over the edge, out of control, her orgasm competing with his, taking over, her entire body shaking, thrilled that he had come again in her, that by itself extending her orgasm, aftershocks so overwhelming she had to push his hand away she was so sensitive.
This time felt different.
They lay like that for a while, both of them panting, her legs squeezed together, not wanting to give him up, either his seed or his presence.
