by Zane
“Yes. Open.”
My mouth falls open at the beautiful sight of a rose petal-covered bed, with calla lilies in crystal vases on each nightstand accompanied by chilled champagne and two crystal glasses. I follow the rose-petal trail on the floor to the European spa bath in the next room.
“A jasmine bubble bath awaits you,” Bishop whispers in my ear. “I know we got a little carried away this morning, and there was no place to really erase our encounter. So I thought I’d bring you here before letting you go home.”
“Thank you, Bishop. This is so nice of you. But—”
“But nothing. No strings attached, just enjoy yourself. I’m gonna take a shower.”
I undress by the side of the Jacuzzi tub and let my dress and undergarments fall onto the white marble floor. Bishop watches me through the mirror and I don’t mind. After I slide into the bubbles, he walks back into the living area, turns on some jazz, and then returns to the bathroom, undresses, and steps into the shower.
“How does it feel?” he yells above the running water and rumbling Jacuzzi jets.
“Fine. Thank you. I needed this.”
“No problem.”
He finishes his shower way before I finish soaking. Finally, I rise out of the tub and dry off. The water drains and Bishop returns to the bathroom right at the moment I’m about to put on my thong and bra.
“I don’t think you want to put those back on, do you? I bought you these.” He hands me a pretty, silk, indigo panty-and-bra set.
“Thanks. How thoughtful of you.”
“All day I thought about you not being able to freshen up the way you like. We both could’ve used a shower this morning.”
We laugh and the moment is lighthearted. I’m so glad to have fresh undergarments.
“Just put on the bra and panties and come join me to relax a while.”
“Okay.”
I feel my heart racing. I know where this can lead and I really don’t want it to. He’s seducing me and I can’t fall for it. But how do I show my appreciation? What he’s done is really nice. I pace the bathroom floor trying to figure this out. Hell, screw it, I didn’t tell him to get this room. I wrap my dress around my body and slide on my high-heel sandals. Damn it, I’m in control and my ass is leaving. I open the bathroom door but don’t see him.
“Bishop?” I call out, peering around the corner.
“Yeah baby, I’m in here.” His acknowledgement comes from the kitchenette. He turns the corner and walks toward me with his dick swinging in the wind the way I like to watch it. Be strong, Connie, I tell myself.
“Why are you dressed? I thought we’d hang out here for a while.”
Be strong, Connie. Don’t look down at his penis. If you do, you’re gonna want it.
“I, uh, I, um, I really need to go.”
“You’re joking, right?” He intentionally steps toward me with his dick an inch away from my pelvis. He leans in for a kiss but I turn my head.
“No. I’m not joking. I have to go.”
He wraps his arms around my waist and I feel weak in the knees.
“What are you going home to that’s better than what you have right here, Connie?”
He kisses the side of my neck and I feel his loaded gun against my dress. I raise my arms not sure whether to embrace him or push him away. He kisses me harder and I begin to kiss him back. His dick grows longer and wider. I feel my hot zone throbbing, yearning for his long dong. I’m saturating my new indigo panties and my breasts are standing at attention. I tell myself, I have to gain control. I can’t do this anymore. Keith is my man even if he doesn’t have a huge penis. If he ever finds out about this, my ass is as good as gone.
“Bishop, I’m sorry, but I gotta go. I can’t do this anymore.” I try to push him away but he holds me tightly. I like the way he’s fighting to keep me.
“Look me in my eyes and tell me that you don’t want what we have together. Look at me, damn it!”
I slowly affix my distant stare upon his hazel eyes and for the first time, I feel something in me flutter. It’s not supposed to, but it does.
“Bishop, look, this has been a wonderful week and I’ve had a lot of fun. But I can’t see you anymore.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Don’t try to twist my words. I don’t want to continue to see you anymore. Is that clear enough?” I lie. Shit, this is hard.
“Why, because of that unsatisfying thug you have? Connie, I can give you everything he can and more, if you let me. I know that I satisfy you sexually. Please, let’s work this out.”
He’s begging and ironically, his pleading is touching places in me that should not be tapped. I say nothing and let him continue to spill his guts.
“Connie, if you can honestly tell me that you don’t want me, I’ll leave you alone and never look back.”
Damn, I don’t want it to be like that. I think about Keith and ending this affair with Bishop, right here, right now. I have Bishop where I want him. I can kiss his ass good-bye, walk out this door, and forget this ever happened. Hmmm. What shall I do? Sorry, Keith, but a girl’s gotta have what a girl needs.
I interrupt Bishop and tongue him passionately. He lifts me and lays me gently onto the rose petals that adorn the California Kingsized bed. Our encounter is different this time, slow and meaningful, drifting into a place I know it shouldn’t be, a place of intimacy. I watch Bishop peel my clothes tenderly. I follow suit and enjoy this moment of truth. Could it be that we’ve revealed another layer of desire for each other, another need? No words are spoken; they would only get in the way. Our bodies entwine into several positions. Kama Sutra has nothing on us. For some strange reason, screaming, “Fuck me, Bishop,” would be out of place in this setting.
For forty-five minutes, we’re suspended in a matrix of romance, and oddly, I enjoy the transition. My sensual movements and direct eye contact speak every word I dare not say. The caressing grip of Bishop’s masculine hands and soft kisses of his LL Cool J lips express a tenderness from far within. The wave of his body with mine, a slow, repeated, penetrating motion takes us to a heightened orgasm we experience simultaneously. Our bodies quake and we hold each other tight. Afterward, I rest my head upon his chest. The room is filled with the muted sound of Will Downing. I say nothing but lie thinking, this moment can’t be revisited or I’m going to be in a bigger dilemma. Bishop interrupts my thoughts.
“Baby, I’m going to take a shower. Do you want to join me?”
“No, I’ll, um, take one when you’re done.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah.”
He kisses my forehead and leaves the room. Shit, shit, shit! What the hell is going on? This isn’t supposed to end like this. We’re suppose to have wild, butt-naked sex, not, well you know, the alternative. Keep this in perspective, I tell myself. He’s married and has never said anything about leaving his frigid wife. I wonder why? This is a dangerous, deadend road and I need to get off of it as soon as possible.
Bishop returns to the room about ten minutes later with a white towel around his waist. He sits on the edge of the bed and touches my thigh.
“Baby, are you all right?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“No reason.”
“Tell me something, Bishop. What are your plans regarding your unfulfilling marriage?” Surprisingly, he gives me a straight answer the first time around.
“I plan to file for divorce shortly.”
“You ‘plan to,’ oh really. I see.” Liar. He could at least be more original.
“Seriously, Connie. My wife is a well-connected woman. I have to be careful with our situation or she will drag my ass through the mud in court. I’ve already set the wheels in motion. If everything goes as planned, I should be done with the process by Christmas next year. What a gift it’s going to be to me.” He smiles as he discusses his divorce.
“Yeah, if you say so. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I was just wondering.”
“Forget about that, Co
nnie. I’ve got it under control. What I’m interested in is, how are you feeling?”
I know he probably wants to talk about what happened between us, but I’m not letting him have that upper hand.
“I feel fine.”
Annoyed by my quick, nonchalant reply, he stands and walks to his clothes. I rise and enter the bathroom where I relax in the shower. Thirty minutes later, I’m dressed and ready to go to my car.
The ride to my car is unusually quiet but Bishop still holds my hand the entire way. He turns onto Perimeter and I see my SUV.
“Well, here you are, Connie.”
“Thanks.”
“Next week is George’s turn to drive, but I’m going to drive on Monday ’cause his car is in the shop.”
“Bishop”—I stop him from further explaining the carpool situation—“I’m not riding with you next week or the week after. This is it for me.” He just doesn’t want to accept the facts.
“Why? I thought we—”
“I know what you thought and trust me, you need to stop thinking it because it’s not going to happen. I simply can’t see you anymore, especially now.” He leans in for a kiss and I ignore his attempt and try to exit. He grabs my wrist, firmer than usual.
“Connie, let’s talk this through.”
“You best let go of my wrist,” I demand with a threatening, escalated voice. He obviously doesn’t take me serious and tries to hug me.
“I said, let me go! I don’t want this!” He tries to kiss me again. “Bishop, no!”
I hear Keith’s voice in my head. Gradually, he reaches my subconscious and I feel him shaking me saying, “Connie, baby, wake up, wake up.” But in my dream, the motion is me, frantically pushing Bishop away, not because he’s attacking me. I’m fighting my own desire to remove myself from this hypnotic state of wanting his big dick. I continue to swing my arms and say, “Leave me alone! I can’t do this!”
“Connie, WAKE UP!” I feel Keith shaking me vigorously, snapping me out of this exhilarating, highly implausible yet probable fantasy.
Slowly, my eyes open. I look around the room dazed and see Keith sitting beside me on the sofa with the most perplexed look upon his face. I say nothing because I’m not sure what all I revealed in my sleep. But he does and he’s staring right at me.
“Baby, that must have been one bad-ass dream. I ain’t never seen you do no shit like that before. What the hell were you dreamin’ about?”
I gaze out of the window and see the black blanket across the sky and the diamonds that lay upon it.
“What time is it?” I look past Keith at the clock on the wall, trying to change the subject. But before I register the numbers, he answers, “Twelve-thirty.”
“Wow, I’ve been asleep that long?”
“Yeah. You’ve been knocked out since you changed clothes when I was grillin.’ Judging from how much wine is left in the bottle, you had a little too much. But squash that. What I still want to know is, what the hell were you dreaming about?”
I orient myself and sit up on the sectional sofa, pulling my knees to my chest, recalling my dream. I look at Keith and wonder what does he really know.
“Keith, sweetie, come here.” I pull him into my 36DDs and whisper, “It was just some midnight madness, that’s all. Nothing to worry about. Just a crazy-ass dream.”
“Oh really. Well, who the fuck is Bishop?”
I laugh to buy time in order to try to figure out my answer. Calling out another man’s name is not something Keith, or any man, would take kindly to. This is a delicate situation. I must be victorious or the night is going to get real ugly, real fast.
“What the hell is so funny, Connie? I don’t see anything so damn humorous.”
“Sweetie, don’t get mad. I was just dreaming, okay?”
“No, this shit is not okay, Connie. Who the fuck is Bishop?”
“All right, I’ll tell you but don’t judge me for what I say.”
Keith sits at attention like a Rottweiler ready to pounce.
“Bishop was…” Keith leans toward me, eyes fixed and ears alert.
“Bishop was a man at my job that I was having explosive sex with because he had a huge dick.” I look at Keith in a matter-of-fact way to get him off balance. He leans back and looks confused.
“What the—”
“I told you it was crazy.”
“Connie, you had a dream about another man and his dick?”
“Yeah. That’s why I said don’t judge me. I can’t help what I dream about.”
“So that’s why you were moaning, ‘Oh Bishop, yes.’”
“Yeah. I gotta admit that it was the bomb, too. And sweetie, it was weird. There were these people in my dream that I don’t even know, like this nosey lady who kept popping up, and a nerd who carpooled with me.”
“Ain’t that some shit,” Keith announces, looking off into the distance.
“What?” I ask.
“Well, either you’re dreamin’ about another man’s dick because you’ve been involved with someone or you’re not satisfied with me. Maybe you’re dreamin’ about it because you want something or someone different.”
“Keith, I assure you that I don’t want anyone else. And sweetie, you please me like no other.”
“So, why is Bishop’s dick on your mind?”
This is the one time I wish he would be less analytical and just accept my answer that it’s only a dream. But no, he’s pushing, and I know he’s not going to stop until he’s satisfied.
“Well, Keith, the truth of the matter is, well, you know how in dreams things can be jumbled up and incidences and people switched around? You know how sometimes dreams just don’t make sense at all?”
“Yeah, go on.”
I place my feet onto the floor and sit at the edge of the sofa with him to better position myself for his response. You know a man’s ego is a sensitive thing, especially when it comes to his prize possession.
“Well, actually, I dreamed that you had a miniature penis, and it wasn’t satisfying me. But your real dick was on this man named Bishop who sexed me the way you do.”
Keith looks at me like I have lost my mind. He tries to reply but apparently can’t find the words. I watch his mind work behind his curious eyes.
“So, what you’re saying is, I wasn’t me in my own body, yet I was me in another man?”
“Yeah, something like that. Look, Keith, the dream made no sense. I’ve dated guys with small penises and was satisfied because it takes more than the size of a dick to please me. Then I have you, who just happens to have the largest damn cock I’ve ever had, and I’m satisfied more than ever.”
Naturally, his ego kicks in and suddenly the direction of our conversation changes.
“Yeah, I know you’re glad you got a man with a big pipe who knows how to give it to you, aren’t you?”
I try not to feed into his ego too much, so I merely smile.
“Tell the truth, Connie. You love how I pound your pussy with my giant.” He leans toward me and makes me slowly fall onto my back. His left hand unties my summer dress and travels from my stomach to my breasts. He cups my perky mountain peaks with both hands, then gnaws at my nipples the way I like.
“Slide back,” he orders. I find my footing and push myself backward until my entire espresso body is fully on the sofa directly under him. He removes his right hand from my breast and teases my clit with one finger while two others find their way into my cavity. I moan with excitement as my creamy juices seep onto his fingers. I want him and he knows it. I rapidly kiss and suck his neck and chest, craving for him to fuck me.
“Tell me, Connie, what did Bishop do to you in your dream that you and I have never done?”
His question catches me off guard and I look at him shocked. He looks at me sincerely and repeats the question in a soft, warm whisper as he nibbles at my ear. Hearing his baritone voice ask me about fulfilling a fantasy makes me hotter, but I’m somewhat embarrassed.
“Baby, don’t be
shy. It’s just you and me. I want to please you. I know there’s something in your dream you must want to do. Let me fulfill your desire.”
I want to respond but the words are silenced by Keith’s tongue in my mouth. He kisses me so deeply and presses his ten-inch dick against my pelvis so hard that I almost cum from sheer desire to have his big cock in me. He slurps my bottom lip as he removes his tongue. He gives my body quick lollipop licks down my neck, between my 36DDs, down my stomach, pass my pubic hair, and right into the creases of my labia. He spreads my legs further apart and goes to work, eating my pussy like never before. He sucks my entire wet box into his mouth, holds it there, then finds the opening to my center with his tongue. How the hell he does that shit, I don’t know, but the sensation is out of this world. He releases my labia and only his tongue remains in the center of me. He uses his fingers and spreads my pussy further apart until my clit is fully exposed. He hones in and makes me squirm and scream with pleasure as he licks, sucks, and bites his way into my subconscious state. I feel myself rise and fall as my body spasms to a breathtaking orgasm unlike any other I’ve experienced with him. My dream is causing a profound impact on us both. Keith returns to my ear and whispers, “Baby, let me please you more. What do you want? Trust me. I’m your man.”
I look into his loving eyes and confess, “I want to know what it’s like to have you…”
“Go ahead, baby, tell me. I’m here for you.”
“To have you cum on my face.” I feel weird and immediately cover my face with my hands. Why the hell am I embarrassed with him? Keith tenderly peels them away and smiles at me.
“That’s nothing to be ashamed of. I never knew you wanted that. I just assumed you didn’t, therefore, I always remove myself before that happens. I’m sorry. I never meant to leave you feeling unfulfilled.”
“Keith, you don’t have to apologize. How could you know? I never said anything.”
A brief period of silence lingers in the air before he says, “Do you love me?”
“Keith, you know I do.”
“You’re my girl, right?” He kisses me just below my earlobe in a spot he knows is an instant turn-on.
“Yes, sweetie. I am.”
