by Blaise Quin
“Lisa tells me this is your first time,” said Justin as he handed Dwayne the glass. “I mean, with another—”
“Don’t sweat it man, I get it.” Dwayne sipped his wine while he cast his eyes over Emily. She had slowly become used to the idea of men looking at her, even leering at her. But it was one thing to be glanced at, even leered at, in a public restaurant. It was something else entirely to be examined by a man in a hotel room.
Justin must have sensed her nervousness because he brought her another glass of wine, which she accepted gratefully. She didn’t want to be drunk, but it gave her something to do with her hands.
“So how do you want to do this?” asked Dwayne.
Justin glanced at her. “It’s up to the two of you,” he said.
Justin’s eyes told Emily that it was really up to her.
“You taking off?” Dwayne asked.
“I’d rather stay.”
Dwayne shrugged. “Fine with me either way. Just so you know, I don’t do anything, you know, with another guy. No offence.”
“None taken.”
Emily felt she should be part of this conversation, if for no other reason than to signal to Justin that she was in this with him. Without thinking, she blurted, “He just wants to watch.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she realized that might not have been the right way to communicate togetherness, so she looked to Dwayne to see how he reacted.
“To make sure everything goes okay,” Justin added.
“No problem. I understand, I do. A tiny little white woman, all alone with a big black man, you don’t have to be a racist to just worry about what might happen. It’s only natural.”
Dwayne’s words sent a shock through Emily, driving home the reality of what she was about to do. Her hand went to her chest, protectively.
She could stop it right now. She hadn’t even touched him. Nothing at all untoward had happened.
Emily looked at Justin, wondering if he were thinking the same thing. His face gave off very little of what was going through his head. Yet she knew her husband; beneath that poker face she was sure he was wrestling with his emotions. Should he stop this? Should she? Would she hate herself after if she went through with it, or hate herself if she didn’t?
Would Justin think differently of her if she kept going?
These weren’t questions to discuss in front of Dwayne.
Justin gave her the slightest nod. Emily took that to mean he was okay, that it was up to her. That, as always, he’d support her decision.
She almost cried right then, her love for him had never been greater, another peculiar oddity. A recognition of love for your husband because he was supporting your decision to be with another man. She gently whispered to him, “I love you.”
He smiled in return, sealing their pact.
Justin took the chair in the corner by the window, partially in the shadows, yet she was so aware of his presence.
Emily looked up at Dwayne, fully taking him in. He couldn’t have been more different than Justin. Both men were in great shape, but where Justin was lithe, Dwayne was muscular. Justin was tall and slender; Dwayne’s shoulders were so wide they made him look even bigger. Justin’s features were narrow, Dwayne’s were full. And though Justin had a soft tan, even his darkened skin seemed pale compared to Dwayne.
Emily had thought so much about getting to this point, and so much about what might happen after this point, that she was a bit at a loss as to what to do right now. She somehow felt it was appropriate for her to make the first move, but she’d never made the first move, with anyone. Not even with Justin.
She might have stood there at a loss if Dwayne hadn’t reached out and wrapped his strong arm around her waist.
His touch jolted a new wakefulness in her, and her eyes shot to Justin. Another man had put his hands on her. She’d experienced this once before, in the restaurant.
Yet now, in a hotel, the touch of another man took on an entirely different meaning.
She could squirm away, she could still stop it.
Justin’s face hid whatever emotions he must have been feeling. She would get no help there.
With her eyes still on Justin, Emily took a small step forward, closing the gap not only in distance but in her connection to Dwayne. She hoped that by looking at Justin he would realize she was still connected to him as well.
She put her hand on Dwayne’s chest, the first time she’d ever touched another man intimately. Yes, though Dwayne was still completely dressed, her palm flat against his silk shirt, it was still a personal touch.
His powerful torso was like nothing she had ever felt. Her other hand came up, feeling his muscles through his shirt. Her entire body grew warm with that one touch, not even on his skin, a combination of his masculinity and, perhaps, her own audacity of what she had done.
Dwayne cupped her breast in his huge hand.
Emily was too shocked to react. She shouldn’t have been, after all, her hands were on his chest. It was the same thing, wasn’t it?
She stared at his hand, disconnected from her body. Her breast was lost in his palm; she saw his hand, but it took a moment for her body to react.
When her body did react, it responded faster than her brain. She leaned forward, into his caress. Her entire body melted into his. Just as she had guessed, her breasts had called out her desire to him.
Dwayne dragged his hand away, pulling at her breast, catching her nipple, shoving his fingers over the top of her half bra, kneading it until it visibly poked against the thin fabric of her dress. A nipple erection, proof of her desire.
“You like that, don’t you,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
Emily nodded sharply. Dwayne rubbed harder. She let out a tiny moan, and he immediately pulled his hand away, Emily’s body following it like a magnet, desperate.
“Show me how much you want me,” he said.
Emily’s mind finally caught up to her primal reaction, her eyes darting to Justin. Should she ask for forgiveness? I’m sorry, my love, I can’t help it.
She couldn’t see Justin’s face clearly in the shadows. But he hadn’t spoken, he hadn’t jumped up at Dwayne’s brazen grab.
She stood on the precipice, torn between her love and her lust, wanting everything to go back to the way it was, wanting everything to jump ahead to a new reality.
Emily thought—she hoped—that if Justin had spoken, had stepped in, she would have stopped. Embarrassing for everyone, no doubt, but no harm. They could all walk away, go back to their lives.
Yet with a stunning clarity Emily realized it would only lead to another discussion with Justin, a discussion of whether she should have gone further, about whether she would go further the next time. Because if she stopped now, there would certainly be a next time, because neither of them would know. There would be a momentous unanswered question haunting them both.
So she took the next step.
She reached around Dwayne’s broad back, her delicate fingers awed at his hardness. Her chin tilted up, her mouth parted, signaling her acceptance of a kiss.
Her eyes closed, waiting, waiting.
Nothing happened. Her eyes snapped open. Dwayne was having none of it, his face tantalizingly out of reach.
Emily stood up on her toes, reaching for him with her mouth.
Dwayne made her wait, tantalizing her, making her beg with her body. She squirmed against him, her body again betraying her. And finally, making it clear he knew how much she desperately wanted him, he kissed her.
Because she had never kissed another man, Emily didn’t know what to compare it to. It was different because it wasn’t Justin, but it was so much more meaningful because it wasn’t Justin.
The enormity of it flowed from Dwayne’s lips to hers, shooting not into her heart, but into her chest, her nipples, traveling down her body, to her belly, to her loins. This wasn’t a kiss of love, this was a kiss of lust. A claim by a big, powerful man, a response by a accepting woman.
Dwayne had given her that kiss, but she wanted more. Her tentative meeting of his lips grew into a full grasping of his mouth. She had no way to tell if Dwayne was an incredible kisser, since she had no one other than Justin to compare him to, and she swore she wasn’t going to fall into a trap of comparisons. So it was impossible to know if her reaction was because of Dwayne’s kiss, or because she was kissing another man.
She wanted more. She stood on her toes, glad of the height from the shoes but cursing them, tottering as she strained upward.
Dwayne might have sensed her need, or perhaps—and the thought thrilled her, the lustful reaction overcoming her embarrassment—she was exciting him too. He pressed his lips hard against hers, his tongue driving into her mouth. No gentle foreplay of the lips, just crushing assertion.
His hands cupped her behind and he lifted her like a rag doll. Yet instead of making her let go of him she only held on tighter, with her hands and her mouth.
Her breasts pressed into his hard chest, a powerful smothering.
For a long moment Emily was lost in the kiss, nothing else mattered, she forgot about where she was, and oddly, even who she was kissing. It was as if the kiss was the embodiment of the extent of her new life, this stepping onto a unknown path.
One of her shoes dropped to the floor.
Without breaking the kiss, Dwayne bent over and sat her on the bed. Her head was bent back, her lips locked on his. Finally Dwayne stood up, leaving her lips grasping at air. Emily felt her face redden, her heart beating in her chest. Her eyes latched onto the small lamp behind Dwayne, an anchor to reality.
She looked down, noticing her missing shoe. The old Emily, perhaps realizing it had lost the battle to this point, not able to compete on the primal level, made her slip the shoe back on.
When she looked up at Dwayne he hadn’t stepped away, his crotch was practically in her face. He didn’t move, and neither did she. But it seemed clear that he wasn’t moving by choice, and she wasn’t moving because she was frozen. Uncertainty, shyness, worry. All combining to lock her in place.
Some of that worry was that she’d lose control.
She looked to Justin, only a part of his face visible in the shadows. As before, his expression told her little. How would she have felt if she had been sitting there, watching Justin with another woman? It would have been impossible to remain calm, stoic. Part of her realized that Justin was hiding his emotions to help her, that he wanted her to be the one to make the decisions.
Emily wasn’t sure if she was bothered by Justin not reacting, or whether she’d be angry if he jumped in.
Dwayne forced the issue. “Go ahead, it won’t bite. Not yet, anyway.”
Emily started to shake, she couldn’t do this alone. That was partially why Justin was here. She looked to him, her eyes pleading for help.
Justin moved his lips. “It’s okay.”
At least that’s what Emily thought he said. Her brain rationalized, her body responded.
Slowly her hand came up and rested on Dwayne’s crotch. She didn’t grab for him, she just rested her hand there. She again looked to Justin. Surely this would make him respond.
Had his lips tightened? Had his eyes widened?
Did he want her to stop or was he getting aroused?
Dwayne didn’t seem to notice her attempting to discern Justin’s thoughts. “If you want it, you have to look much lower.”
Oddly, this broke the tension for her. For a second it became a game, not an act that could destroy her marriage. She took her hand away from Dwayne’s crotch and grabbed him halfway down the thigh, well beyond where any man could possibly reach.
Her eyes opened wide, in complete disbelief. Her fingers groped, wrapping around his shaft.
“Didn’t expect that, did you?” said Dwayne.
Emily gave a little laugh, embarrassed. Her mind flashed to the BBC video, to Lisa’s comments about black men, to the huge dildo. All those were promises, this was a reality.
She glanced up at Dwayne, then to Justin, then back to her own hand. She slid her fingers up toward his crotch and back down, still not believing it was all one continuous bulge.
It was.
A strange sound escaped her lips, like one would make if tapped unexpectedly, not on the shoulder, but on the back of the neck. Her mind wasn’t accepting the signals her fingers were sending it.
Still in the mindset of a game, she reached for Dwayne’s zipper.
“You’ll never get it out that way,” said Dwayne.
Emily hesitated, then reached for Dwayne’s belt buckle. Again she looked to Justin, to see if he was playing the game too. His face had retreated into the shadow, now either a hidden participant or a spectator.
Emily unbuckled Dwayne’s belt, then undid the button. Her fingers found the zipper, and she slowly slid it down. She slipped her hands into the top of Dwayne’s pants on either side of his waist.
Then stopped. Dwayne’s pants were like a line drawn in the sand. Pulling them down, revealing his skin, would be crossing that line. She and Dwayne both had all their clothes on. Yes, she’d kissed him, but perhaps that could be left behind. Not quite forgotten, but moved past.
She could still feel his lips on her mouth. Who was she kidding? She’d never forget that kiss. To her, that kiss was a momentous a leap, perhaps equal to her starting out this evening naked.
Closer and closer to the biggest line, yet still not there.
In one motion, so she wouldn’t lose her nerve, and driven by her desire, Emily pulled down Dwayne’s pants and his underwear together.
Her breath was torn from her chest. Not because a huge cock sprang at her, but because it was didn’t. Surprise, and, to her utter dismay at her reaction, disappointment.
“Keep going, girl,” said Dwayne. “It needs to be freed up.”
Emily worked on autopilot now, uncovering the sham of the BBC. She pulled on Dwayne’s pants. They barely budged, so she had to practically yank.
And this time the breath flew from her like she’d been punched in the stomach. Dwayne’s shaft had been laying along his leg, and it slowly rose to horizontal, making Emily instantly think about one of those videos of a rocket launch. The thick, very real erection pointed at her face, forcing her to move her head back to avoid having it hit her in the chin.
“That’s better,” said Dwayne. “Now why don’t you get it really hard?”
The game was over.
It was impossible not to look at the massive piece of manhood before her. This wasn’t a penis, it was a torpedo, except instead of a pointed end it had a thick head.
They had been right. All of them. The women in the videos who had lusted after well endowed men. Her sister. Even Justin, somehow knowing this would be an experience Emily should have. It was big, so big, and just its size made it arousing.
She forced her eyes away, back toward Justin. She felt like crying out, Now I understand!
When she looked back at the thick shaft her first sensation was delight. It wasn’t a trick after all, it hadn’t been a lie. In her glee Emily planted a tiny kiss on the tip. Then another.
She suddenly realized that without conscious thought, she’d crossed over a momentous line. She’d touched another man’s most private part, not with her hand, but with her mouth.
And just like that, any hesitation was lost, the wanton woman within her exploding out of her inner shadows, taking control.
Her kisses lengthened, her mouth on him longer and longer. It felt so—natural, so impossibly natural.
A sound jerked her head around. Justin.
She’d gone too far.
Justin moved. Emily tensed, fearing he was going to get up, to cross the room. To stop her.
Or to walk out.
Instead, he grabbed himself between the legs. She couldn’t see his erection, but she saw his intent.
And was shamefully thankful, because so help her, she didn’t want to stop
.
With her eyes still on Justin, she slipped her tongue over Dwayne’s cock.
A long shudder ran from her tongue to her spinal cord, immediately spreading into her entire body. The signal her mouth got in return was more.
There was only one way to get more.
She took Dwayne in her mouth.
Emily felt Dwayne’s groan right through his shaft. That reaction, perhaps even more than the sensation of him in her mouth, thrilled her beyond belief.
She used the tip of her tongue to kiss him in recognition, in thanks.
“You have a pretty little mouth,” said Dwayne. “Let’s see what else you can do with it.”
Emily let Dwayne slip from her mouth, then began to kiss his shaft, nibbling her way down. Her hand reached for him, but Dwayne grabbed her wrist, holding it at bay.
“Just your mouth,” he ordered.
Emily hesitated, not sure what to do. She tried kissing his shaft, lower, lower, until her face was buried against his thigh. Dwayne’s balls hung low, bulging, so much larger than Justin’s.
No, no comparisons.
She planted a tiny kiss on them, expecting softness, but they were hard as rocks, filled with. . .the very idea made her shiver. Filled with seed.
She took him back in her mouth.
Dwayne rested his hand behind her head, then started to pull her forward onto him. At first it was wonderful, his signal that he liked what she was doing.
But he didn’t stop.
His cock filled her tiny mouth. Emily tried shifting her head, her cheeks bulging, the head pushing against the top of her mouth, then against her throat. . .
Her hands jumped into action, one grabbing his cock to keep it from impaling her, the other waving uselessly in the air. She couldn’t take any more, and yet her little devil hissed at her, What did you expect?
She gagged.
Dwayne immediately let her go. She pulled back, gasping for air.
“Don’t worry girl, I won’t do that again. Not right now, anyway. I just wanted to give you a taste of what you should expect to feel inside you.” Dwayne laughed at his own joke.
Emily felt humiliated, and yet. . .utterly aroused. Dwayne’s forcefulness, so utterly like Justin, should have turned her stomach. At least that’s what her mind said. This wasn’t Justin losing a little control when he was in her mouth, this was a man making her do his bidding, showing who was in charge.