by Blaise Quin
She couldn’t speak, her eyes locked on his fingers.
“Some women like it in one place,” he continued, squeezing a healthy dollop on her chicken. “Others like it in two places.” He dropped more on the side of the plate. “Of course, you might be a woman who likes it,” he crushed the packet in his hands, shooting a thick flow of white goo, “everywhere.”
Emily licked her dry lips, her hands pressed between her legs, embarrassed less at what he was saying than in her inability to respond as she should, which would have been to slap him, or stalk off. Or both.
When she looked up, he was watching her, waiting. Discarding all pretense, she whispered, “I can’t.”
“Of course you can.”
She met his eye, summoning her confidence. “I won’t.”
Dwayne didn’t seem fazed. “Want to bet on that?”
Emily glanced away, as much to cover her uncertainty as to check for eavesdroppers. Lowering her voice even more, she said, “What I did, what we did, it wasn’t just for me. It was for me and my husband.”
Dwayne shrugged. “I knew that.”
“And he’s not here.”
“So what are you saying? That if he was here, you would?”
Emily started to speak, stopped. What was she saying? After Dwayne, she’d been with Antonio. She and Justin hadn’t really ever said they’d never do it again; they’d just put it on hold while she tried to get pregnant. . .
“It doesn’t matter,” she countered. “Justin isn’t here.”
“You could call him.” Dwayne pulled out his cell phone. “Here, you can use my phone, give him a thrill when my ID pops up on his screen.”
Emily cringed, yet she knew he was right, it would drive Justin wild. “He’s away. On a trip.”
Dwayne grinned. “Maybe even better. We’d have more time. Think of the story you could tell him.”
Emily had grabbed onto her napkin without realizing it, scrunching it in her fingers. That would drive Justin wild as well, her telling him about a tryst, a tryst with a big black man. And before he had left, Justin had told her it would be okay, that she could be with another man while he was gone. She had sensed his offer was not just for his excitement, but for her excitement. For her need.
Dwayne waited with a confident patience. He had the ability to look totally at ease standing there, seemingly doing nothing, self assured. He was handsome and powerful, but beyond that, his magnetic aura flowed around him and over her.
The sounds of the café grew to a roar in her ears, and yet inside her head it was so quiet she could hear her heart pounding, she could feel tiny droplets of perspiration on her arms. She ignored everything except Dwayne, it was just the two of them. No, the three of them, because Justin was still in her mind, in her heart. What would he want?
The answer came to her immediately.
From the beginning, Justin’s desires had been not just about him, but about them. About her. About giving her what he alone could not. About satisfying her in every possible way, including sexually. Justin wasn’t upset by her enjoyment of other men, he was happy for her. It had brought them even more together as a couple, their marriage stronger than it had ever been. It sounded impossible, yet she knew in her heart it was true.
Resolved, and certain, she reached into her purse for her phone.
“Calling your husband for permission?” asked Dwayne.
Emily poised with her finger over the screen. “You say you know about me and my husband, but you still don’t really understand. You see, I don’t need permission. That’s the trust we have.”
She saw a change in Dwayne’s eyes, as if he were reappraising her, and perhaps Justin. She punched up the number for her office.
“Cindy? I’ve had a bit of an emergency come up. No, nothing terrible, it’s actually good, I just have to deal with it right away. So I’ll be late getting back from lunch.” Emily looked up at Dwayne, and she was thrilled to see she had surprised him. “On second thought, I might not make it back today at all.”
She clicked off and stood up, leaving her food untouched on the table. She’d never in her life uttered the words Your place or mine, and stifled a laugh as the idea came to her.
“Let’s go,” she said.
The loud click of the door shutting behind Emily made her jump. Though she’d had plenty of time to change her mind—on the drive over, in the parking lot, following Dwayne up the walkway to his apartment, the snap of the lock had still startled her. This was real.
“Can I get you a drink?” asked Dwayne. “Wine?”
The first response that popped into Emily’s mind was This isn’t a date. But she bit the words off. Dwayne was just being polite. The last thing she needed was alcohol on an empty stomach; she had enough butterflies to launch her into space. Instead she said, “Just a little.”
The apartment was nice. Modern and sleek, serving as a backdrop for an intriguing selection of African art and pottery. Three large painted masks hung on a wall behind the sofa, savage and powerful.
Emily studied a clay figurine to hide her nervousness while Dwayne got her wine. She was fidgeting, alone in another man’s apartment. For some reason this was far more personal than being in a hotel room. And there was no Justin to watch, to help if need be.
What was she doing here?
Dwayne was at her side, handing her a glass of wine. Even in her heels he towered over her, relaxed and commanding in his own place. Emily held out her hand for the glass, but her fingers didn’t have the strength to grip it, she was shaking. Dwayne’s strong hand covered hers, holding it in place. Yet the rest of her body trembled, with trepidation. With nervousness.
With desire.
This was why she was here. This reaction. And of course, he was why she was here.
A line of framed photos filled one shelf. Two cute boys were in most of them, some with Dwayne. “Your kids?” she asked.
“Yep. Those are the ones I know about. I have some others too, women who wanted me to help out in that department, if you know what I mean. Mostly white women.” Dwayne paused. “All nice and healthy, I hear. ”
Emily shuddered. Dwayne was proudly telling her about his virility, how he had planted his seed in other women, how he had made them pregnant. He was trying to sound matter of fact but Emily could tell from his tone that he was turned on by being a bull.
His words and her thoughts tingled her belly, and she put her hand there, feeling the warmth. It took her a long moment to gather enough control to turn around to face Dwayne.
She wondered if she looked okay. Just that thought was frightening, and oddly erotic. Worrying if she looked attractive enough for him. She’d worn a normal work outfit, a plain navy blue skirt suit over a simple blouse. Her simple white underwear. Pantyhose. She hadn’t dress for this.
There was an old saying about never wearing torn underwear in case you got hit by a car. Maybe that saying needed to be revised. Never wear ugly underwear in case you had a chance to have unexpected sex. In the middle of the day.
She must have smiled, because Dwayne said, “Something funny?”
“Just a thought I had.” Emily took a long sip of the wine. “This is good,” she said, although she barely tasted it. Her mind was totally consumed by nerve endings other than taste.
“I’m all about good.”
“You have a nice place,” Emily said, moving away from him, not sure what to do next. She glanced down a hall, which probably led to the bedroom. “It’s big.”
“Three bedrooms. One of them I keep for my nephew, he stays with me here sometime. He just turned eighteen, I already got him a job at the hospital.”
The mention of bedrooms made her think: How many other woman had Dwayne had here?
What should it matter? This wasn’t a date, she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend or a husband. All this delay, all these wasteful thoughts. She was here for one thing only.
She set the wine down and took off her jacket.
By the
time Emily turned Dwayne had crossed the room. She fell into his arms, her mouth reaching for him, no hesitation, easier and faster than it should have been. Perhaps it was because she had been with him before, or perhaps it was her hunger, her yearning, held at bay for weeks, smoldering, threatening to explode since she had first heard Dwayne’s voice earlier.
His arms were around her, lifting her clear off her feet, he was hungry too, and this thrilled her, this powerful man wanted her. Dwayne’s mouth engulfed hers, his kiss too rough, demanding, but Emily didn’t care, it was more proof of his desire. She kissed him back, hard, echoing his want, communicating her own. She dangled in the air, trusting his strength, as his tongue drove into her mouth.
This wasn’t the kiss of a husband, or even a lover, this was the kiss of a man who took what he wanted.
She was powerless, even her forceful kiss having no effect, whether she kissed him or fought him off it would be the same, he would get what he wanted. He picked her up, and she thought he was going to take her to the bedroom, but instead he carried her to the white leather sofa. In one smooth motion he sat, holding her in his lap, their mouths still locked. Emily’s skirt rode up her thighs where his large hands held her, she didn’t care, overwhelmed by the lightning immediacy of his touch and assault.
Dwayne’s fingers dug into her thigh, his hand under her skirt, where no man’s hand other than her husband’s should ever be, and just that thought sent a wave of heat from where he touched her right into her loins, her inner thighs on fire. He had put his hands on her with no warning, no foreplay, no request, he’d put his hands there because that’s where he wanted his hands to be. He could do whatever he wanted to her, in this private place, and they both knew it. No one even knew where she was.
Her arms were around his neck, she couldn’t get enough of his lips, pulling his head toward her, her breasts crushed against his hard chest. She rubbed herself against him, forcing his caress, already wishing she was naked against his skin.
Her motion shifted herself in his lap, driving against a hardness. His erection, impossibly pushing through his clothes and her layers, underwear, pantyhose, her bunched skirt. It grew under her, threatening to lift her right off his lap.
She was turning him on!
Of all her discoveries from her sexual exploration, this was still the most surprising, the most amazing, the sheer thrill she got from arousing a man. Feeling him harden, feeling him tense, feeling his raw emotion through his mouth, emotion being forced from him in grunts and a loss of control. She’d felt this when she’d flirted with men in the bar, when she’d been with Dwayne and Antonio.
Her entire body trembled with the thrill, the implied power. She was doing this!
And yet, she wasn’t really in control, she was at the mercy of this big powerful man. And that too aroused her beyond belief, beyond comprehension.
Two conflicting emotions: being in charge, and being taken.
Emily pushed her hand under her leg, reaching for him, wanting to touch his manhood. She was all twisted up, her legs over the end of the sofa. In frustration she slid off his lap, just as Dwayne pushed her away, his shove forcing her to the floor, between his legs.
The tumble shocked her, one minute embracing him on the sofa, hands and mouths connected, the next minute thrown to the floor. Dwayne stared down at her, making her breath catch in her throat, this helpless position reminding her of where she was, the risk.
She’d undressed him the first time, but somehow just the difference of sitting on a bed and being on the floor was so. . .vulnerable. The spike of her heel dug into her painfully, her twisted blouse tugged at her breasts, her neck ached from looking up.
And yet. . .
She wasn’t here to make love, she was here for sex.
“Do it,” said Dwayne.
And whether it was because he ordered her to, or because she decided to, it didn’t matter. She unbuckled his belt, released the button, unzipped his fly. Grabbing his pants she pulled, but he made no effort to lift his hips to help.
Dwayne was making her work for it, making her admit how much she wanted it.
Emily pulled at his pants so hard she bit her lip, finally freeing them over his hips, hearing his deep chuckle. Before his slacks had cleared his knees his thick erection had smashed her in the face.
The last time she’d been with him she had gingerly kissed the tip, she had slowly worked her way to accepting him. Today, she hungrily took him in her mouth, not a heartbeat of hesitation, wanting to feel his thickness, his heat, wanting to taste him.
Her first touch of his bare skin was his cock in her mouth.
His cock. Not his erection, not his shaft, not his manhood. His cock. In her mouth.
She moaned, her hum adding to the vibration in his shaft. She wrapped her hands around him, both of them, heat against heat. Her tongue ravished the head, the lip, along the slit, the opening where his seed would emerge. Her stomach flipped from just the thought of powerful jets shooting into her. Virile jets.
Emily still hadn’t spoken a word since she had kissed him. Words were a waste now, she had far more pressing uses of her mouth.
His thickness amazed her, as it had before, but even her memory was nothing compared to the reality of him in her mouth. Not only the thickness, but the sheer length. He’d made her gag the first time, and now she waited for his hands to be on her head, forcing her down, dreading it and yet wanting it.
When she could wait no longer she straightened up on her knees, bent her neck, and forced her own head down onto his shaft, making a cup with her tongue. His helmet pushed against the roof of her mouth, his thickness puffed her lips, she had to breathe through her nose, and still she kept going, the tip now against her throat, deeper, deeper. . .
She choked, pulling her head away, gagging for air, hearing Dwayne’s laugh over her gasps, infuriating her, yet her need was so great that instead of stopping she drove down on him again, trying to relax her tongue, her throat, now room for just one of her hands on his shaft, deeper, now just three fingers, two. . .
She gagged again, fought to hold on, her own hand on the back of her head, pushing herself down, one finger, the musk from his balls filling her nostrils, her lips reaching out to touch his stomach. . .
Her throat constricted, strangled, she pulled away, her mouth dribbling on his shaft, sucking in huge gulps of air, her mouth stretched the same way he had stretched her pussy, overwhelming, painful, and yet arousing beyond belief.
“No one ever took it that far,” said Dwayne. “You are a great cock sucker.”
His nasty, condescending words only drove Emily’s desire, her mouth back on him, stroking, now wanting only one thing, to please him. Not only for him, but for herself.
She was on her knees, hot and sweaty already, fully clothed, unabashedly sucking on another man’s cock.
If Justin could only see her now.
The idea of Justin watching sent a hot shiver right to her pussy. She pretended Justin was there, watching. She moved her hair over her ear, so he could see her face better, so he could see her sucking this huge black cock.
What would Justin want now? What would arouse him so much that he’d touch himself, that he’d masturbate right in front of Dwayne?
Justin would want to see Dwayne inside her, he’d want to see Dwayne fuck her.
Justin would have to wait.
Because now Dwayne’s hands were in her hair, proof of his surrender to his own arousal, telling Emily it felt so good he couldn’t hold back and just watch. He growled, not a warning, but a demand, spurring her on. She wrapped her fingers around his hard sacks, making her dizzy with the thought of his seed.
She had to get out of her clothes, she was dripping with perspiration and desire, yet she couldn’t bear to let go his cock.
She squeezed his balls and sucked him harder, wondering how far she could go before it hurt him, but Dwayne only thrust his hips harder into her mouth, wanting more. She used one hand to massage t
he rough skin of his sack, the other to jerk his shaft, faster and faster, her mouth puckered and tight on his skin. She squeezed her legs together, trying to give her clit some relief. Frustrated, she groaned around his shaft, and all at once he stiffened, thickening, his fingers digging into her hair, demanding. . .
Her hand flew, she lifted her head to see his face, he was almost ready, she could feel it, so exciting, she didn’t care how many women had sucked him, she didn’t care that she was on her knees, she didn’t care who Dwayne was thinking about and so help her she didn’t care that Justin wasn’t there, all that mattered was that his cock was in her mouth, right here and now.
So focused was she, so unbelievably aroused and thrilled as she felt him swell, that the meaning of a new sound behind her didn’t register, a click that didn’t click in her brain, because at that moment Dwayne groaned and his shaft flushed with a new thickness, flowing upward like a python, her mouth caught between the desire to keep tightly clamped and the need to prepare. He erupted into her, the salty sweetness filling her mouth, her sensations. She was barely able to savor the mouthful before the next spurt, forcing her to swallow.
The sound behind her finally connected with understanding. Someone else was in the room!
She didn’t have enough sensations left to be stunned or embarrassed, Dwayne was shooting into her mouth, his shaft spasming, her throat constricting with the thick seed.
A stranger was watching her!
She couldn’t have turned if she had wanted to, because Dwayne grabbed her head and held it in place. “All of it,” he muttered. “Swallow all of it.”
And she did, she would have even if he hadn’t demanded it, yet she was painfully aware that she had an audience, not Justin, who could it be? Another woman?
Emily had never had a negative thought about another woman, but all she could think of right now was screw her. This man is mine. This cock is mine.
This cum is mine.
And without turning around, she milked Dwayne’s shaft for every drop, swirling her tongue in her mouth to make sure every taste bud was coated.
