by Blaise Quin
Long after he finished she held him in her mouth, her tongue riding across his slit, lingering, kissing. She’d almost had her own orgasm from the thrill of making him come, from her legs being pressed together so hard.
And perhaps from being watched.
Her knees hurt, her neck was stiff, but still she didn’t get up.
The person behind her spoke. No woman at all. “Hey, Uncle Dwayne.”
Emily’s eyes widened in shock. Dwayne’s arms were splayed along the sofa, his entire body relaxed, lying like a sated Roman who had just been serviced by a slave.
“Yo, Jackson.” Dwayne’s smug smile widened. “Meet Emily. Want to join the party?”
Emily spun around, or spun around as well as she could while on the floor. She pressed her back against the front of the sofa, as if that could hide her, her hands frantically pushing down her skirt.
Standing before her was a tall young black man with beautiful sheer ebony skin, his refined features reminding her of the smooth African pottery on Dwayne’s shelf. The young man didn’t seem at all surprised to see Emily there. Whether that was because of his confident maturity or because he was accustomed to seeing woman giving oral sex to his uncle wasn’t clear.
Emily had never been so humiliated, yet for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why, given what she had been doing. How could you be humiliated after hungrily sucking a man’s cock after he had practically forced you to the floor?
Or perhaps she wasn’t humiliated because her mind had jumped to consider the promise of Dwayne’s words.
No. No. No. Jackson was too young.
“Don’t just stand there, Jackson, give Emily a hug. Although I’d suggest you don’t kiss her right now.” Dwayne’s laugh shook the room.
Jackson seemed to be as frozen as Emily was. Yet he didn’t look away in embarrassment. Instead, his eyes roved over Emily’s body. Emily shied against the sofa, stricken with the sudden desire to kiss him, he was that beautiful.
“Maybe I should come back,” said Jackson.
“Don’t be a fool. In fact, I have an idea.” Dwayne leisurely stood, pulling up his pants. He reached down and took Emily by the wrists, standing her up. Emily couldn’t have resisted even if she wanted to. What was she going to do, stay on the floor?
Dwayne twisted her around to face Jackson, his arms around Emily’s waist. “I was thinking that the job I got you was a good eighteenth birthday present. But who wants a job for a birthday? How about a nice tight little white woman instead?”
Emily didn’t believe her ears. She struggled to get away, but Dwayne held her tight with only one hand. His other hand came up to cup her breast. “She loves this,” he said, squeezing, his fingers flicking her nipple.
Emily bent over, trying to escape, less from his embrace and more from the embarrassment of being aroused. Dwayne had done this to her in front of Justin, brazenly groping her, and now he was doing it again.
She’d loved it then, and so help her, she loved it now, as embarrassing as it was. Justin had offered her to Dwayne, and now Dwayne was offering her to Jackson.
Still, she felt obliged to say, “Stop it, no. . .”
Dwayne ignored her, seeing right through Emily’s hollow denials. “Jackson is a virgin,” he whispered loudly. “Think of the gift you’d be giving him. He’d remember you for the rest of his life.”
“I’m no virgin,” Jackson huffed.
“Getting blowjobs from high school girls don’t count,” said Dwayne. “This is a real woman. And I think she’d give you more than a little head, although I got to admit, she’s real good at that.”
Emily twisted in Dwayne’s strong grip, her eyes darting from him to Jackson. She should have been appalled, but she’d been so worked up and turned on making Dwayne come in her mouth that her body smoldered, unfulfilled. It was as if she had worked hard for a pot of money, only to have it snatched away from her, but then replaced by an even larger pot of gold.
Or in this case, a black diamond.
Jackson tried to act nonchalant, typical of his youth, but his eyes never left Emily. He blatantly checked her out, starting from her legs, up to her tiny waist, to her perky breasts, her lips. Emily stood up taller, barely noticing Dwayne’s hands falling away.
Timidly she looked down, a hint of the old Emily, shyly on display. The heat between her legs hadn’t been extinguished by the interruption, only held at bay. Now it came roaring back, forcing her to raise her head.
Jackson was staring into her eyes. Emily was indeed a woman, because she could feel his desire clear across the room. He wanted her.
And she wanted him.
Jackson was trying to be cool, but the sight of the pretty woman was hard to resist. He’d been with white women, but his uncle was right, just blowjobs, he could get one anytime. He still hadn’t done the full deed. The chicks in high school would easily give up a suck job, but most kept the good stuff for boyfriends. Or were giving it out to anyone with a dick. Those chicks hadn’t interested Jackson at all.
This woman was different. For one thing, she was older. Shit, she might be ten years older than he was. She also dressed different. Like a woman he’d see going into an office building. Her hair was pulled back tight, she had on a skirt. Women he knew didn’t wear many skirts, it was usually jeans or shorts, unless they were out clubbing, in fuck me dresses.
And she could barely meet his eye, shy like. She was small all over, thin. He’d got a good look at her ass, because when he’d come in she’d been sticking it in the air, sucking on her uncle’s dick. He’d never seen such a tiny ass.
When his uncle turned her around and squeezed her tit he got a good look at her front and her face. Perky like. She moved like she didn’t want to be there, half fighting, but her heart wasn’t in it. She didn’t make a run for the door. In fact, when his uncle let her go, she just stood there, almost posing for him.
Jackson knew his uncle had a lot of women, he’d heard them in the bedroom. No big deal. A few mornings he’d passed them in the hall, in their bra and panties, sometimes giving him a look. Not hos, that wasn’t his uncle. His uncle didn’t need hos, he could get all the women he needed. Jackson hoped he ended up like Uncle Dwayne.
He wouldn’t mind a hand me down at all.
Emily felt Jackson’s heat and desire, even though he was trying to hide it. He looked so young, yet she had dated Justin when he was only a few years older than Jackson. Right now she felt pretty old. It wouldn’t be right, having sex with Jackson.
Listen to her. She’d just given oral sex to Dwayne. What was really different about it?
Jackson shifted from foot to foot, still trying to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t really interested one way or another. Dwayne was silent, his hands no longer on her, but Emily felt his bulk behind her.
She could leave right now. That’s what she should do. Her eyes glanced toward the door, then back to Jackson.
How would Jackson feel if she ran out? No doubt he’d feel terrible, that he’d been rejected. It wasn’t like she was selling girl scout cookies. She’d willingly been on her knees.
Emily had never even thought about a younger man. Dwayne and Antonio were both older than Justin. Other men she’d fantasized about had been her age or older. Jackson was too young.
No, he was a man.
And. . .a virgin.
Which put him in a new light. Emily remembered what it was like being a virgin. Listening to the stories her girlfriends told, mostly horrifying first times. So bad that they often didn’t even count their first time, instead choosing to remember their first good sex as when they had lost their virginity. Emily had been lucky; her first time had been with Justin.
Was it true for men? Would they want their first time to be special? Would they always remember their first woman? Would they be hurt or disappointed if it wasn’t great sex?
Emily realized she’d never been with a virgin. She’d never thought about it until this very moment.
Justin had made her
loss of virginity special. Even with all that had happened since then, she’d never, ever forget that wonderful night.
Maybe she could do the same for Jackson.
She smoothed down her skirt, standing up tall. She reached for her wine and took a big gulp, swirling it around in her mouth before swallowing. Then finished the rest of the glass, emptying her mouth of the remnants of Dwayne’s seed. Cleansing herself.
She crossed the room and was thrilled to see Jackson’s eyes widen as she took his hand.
Sure of herself now, she said, “Jackson, why don’t you show me your bedroom?”
Jackson’s hand was as big as Dwayne’s, his fingers long and lean, like his body. His grip tightened around hers as he led her down the hall.
Dwayne called out, “Hey Jackson, did you get your test results?”
“Sure did, Uncle Dwayne. Slick as a black cat.”
Dwayne’s laugh echoed down the hall.
Jackson felt different with this woman. It wasn’t like the high school chicks, ending up in the back of a car, getting some head. Or over at a friend’s house, doing it in the basement. Sometimes alone, other times, a bunch of guys getting it at the same time.
He’d never had a woman in his room.
He kept it pretty neat, but he still was pissed he hadn’t picked up his clothes from yesterday off the floor. His football jersey was thrown over a chair. Fortunately the jockstrap and tights were in the hamper. The bathroom door was open, he hoped he hadn’t left it a mess.
Jackson wondered if he was worried about all this shit because it was the first woman who had been in his bedroom, or it was because she was older.
“This is a nice room,” Emily said.
“Uh huh.” Normally Jackson was smooth with women. This one had him a little tongue tied. Every part of his body was tense. All except his dick, which strained painfully against his pants.
“What you saw in there—,” she began.
“Don’t worry, it’s cool,” he shrugged.
“You see that a lot?” she asked.
“Nah. I mean, he’s been with women, you know, but I never walked in.”
Emily glanced away, but when her eyes came back to his they were bright. “How did it make you feel?”
Jackson didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Did she expect him to be embarrassed? Was she making fun of him for being a virgin?
Yet there was no hint of condescension in her face, so he told her the truth. “It was kind of hot.”
She bit her lip, then smiled and put her small hand on his chest. Her touch made his dick jump, he wanted to throw her down on the bed and do her. Yet something held him back.
“I’m glad,” she said. “I—I like it when someone watches.”
It was then that Jackson finally noticed the rings on her left hand. A diamond and a wedding band.
“You’re married,” he blurted.
“Very.”
Jackson knew all about affairs, but he’d never been part of one. He couldn’t help but ask, “Do you do this all the time? Fuck around on your husband?”
She made a tsk tsk sound and briefly put a dainty finger to his lips. “That’s not a question to ask a lady. But if you must know, I don’t. Not all the time, anyway. I’ve been with your Uncle Dwayne once before. In fact, he was my first—other man. And my husband knows.”
Jackson couldn’t believe it. “He knows? About this?”
“Well, not about today, but he will. I’ll tell him everything.”
“Shit, he must be some kind of wimp, letting a good looking woman like you—” Jackson stopped. He didn’t want to put her down, she was too hot, he wanted to fuck her.
“It’s not like that,” she said, heat in her voice. “And if you say anything bad about my husband, I’m leaving. Do you understand?”
Jackson didn’t, not really, but he nodded anyway. No way he’d let his woman fuck around. Married or not.
“I was like you,” she said. “I mean, I was sure that there was only one way to look at life. Not imagining there was another whole world out there. Not for a minute believing I could do certain things. And yet,” she spread out her arms, as if offering herself up, “here I am.”
She waited, and slowly Jackson nodded. He still wasn’t sure he understood exactly what she meant, but it wasn’t important, especially as her firm boobs were pointing right at him. He’d never wanted to grab a tit more than he did right then.
“My husband is no wimp,” she continued. “In fact, he’s the strongest man I know. Remember that when you get older. It takes incredible strength to trust the person you love.”
The emotion in her voice pulled Jackson’s eyes away from her tits. She was looking at him earnestly, perhaps waiting for her words to sink in. He wondered what would happen next.
Emily was shaking with desire for this gorgeous young man, but she felt she had to get that straight. About Justin. She truly believed what she said, that only a strong man, a confident man, could allow his wife to do what she had done, what she was doing.
And she did want this to be special for Jackson, there was no need to rush.
Jackson still seemed hesitant. Emily never thought of herself as having a strong personality, yet Jackson seemed in awe of her. Some semblance of her new found confidence, perhaps.
She took his hands, and while staring into his eyes, placed them on her breasts.
He hesitated ever so briefly, then squeezed, too hard, way too hard, yet Emily leaned into him, wanting it to be good for him, the pain balanced by the excitement of his raw yearning. His wide lips parted, the tip of his tongue visible, and Emily stood on her toes and kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth. Jackson was so tall she tottered in her heels, her neck straining, yet she so wanted to feel his lips.
He kissed her back, hungrily, clumsily, like the way she might have kissed in college. She suddenly felt so much older, more mature, more skilled. Her head flooded with the rush, for the first time in her life she was the one who was the one with the experience.
She’d had more intercourse than Jackson had.
Emily reeled with the very idea. It gave her an odd sense of self-assurance, of boldness. She reached down and felt for him, no, she grabbed at him.
His shaft was hard, pointing straight up. Her fingers dug into the top of his jeans and the head was right there, sticking out of the waistband, stiff as a sword.
Her hand on his bare skin set Jackson off. He spun her around and pushed her down onto the bed, falling on top of her, tearing at her clothes.
“Slow, slow. . ” Emily said, but her own hands were grabbing at his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his lithe, tight torso and abs. His waist was impossibly slim, not an ounce of fat to be seen. He knelt over her, staring.
“Your turn,” said Emily.
Jackson fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, pulling it free of her skirt. Emily wished she had worn a nicer bra instead of the plain white one. Yet Jackson didn’t seem to mind, he was reaching behind her to undo it, and Emily smiled as he struggled with the clasp, reaching back to help him.
Jackson stared at her breasts, then bent his mouth, driving for her nipple, no foreplay, his exuberance a joyful pleasure. He sucked her nipple, Emily arching her back to meet his mouth as she got the first real sexual touch on her skin since she’d been in the apartment.
Jackson sucked harder, bordering on pain, yet Emily pulled his head to her breast, her nipple hardening, she had a sudden image of releasing through her teat, as if she could come that way, shoot into his mouth, fluid, milk. . .
She moaned, the image so sinful, yet so erotic, she was the older woman, her breasts filled, needing release. Jackson kneaded her other breast, his long fingers cupping her totally.
As he shifted his mouth to her other teat he marveled, “You have great tits.”
Emily smiled into his neck, no man had ever uttered such words, she would have been appalled, but just as when Dwayne had called her a good cock sucke
r she felt a strange thrill, such was the woman she had become.
Jackson’s other hand was up her skirt, in a hurry, pressing into her mound. She wanted to slow him down, she wanted him to remember it, but instead she spread her legs, giving him access, wanting his strong fingers on her. She pressed into his hand, loving the pressure.
He wasn’t content with grabbing her though her layers, he drove his hand down the tight, constraining waistband, feeling for her, Emily struggling to lift her hips and pull down her pantyhose. She wasn’t fast enough, Jackson let out a frustrated growl and yanked hard, ripping through the nylon, then tearing them away, one big handful after another. Emily gasped, her clothes being torn off her, making her feel ravaged and yet so much desired. Her panties were no match for Jackson’s powerful hands, his fingertips raking across Emily’s clit, making her yelp.
Then it was a race, Jackson tearing off her panties and the top of her nylons as Emily fumbled with her skirt zipper, the snap at the top ripping off as she twisted on the bed to free herself.
She lay back on the bed, her chest heaving, the strips of her clothes wrapped around her, the top of her pantyhose torn to shreds, like a whore’s stockings. Her shoes had long since fallen away. Her legs spread wantonly, she could barely breathe.
Jackson had recovered some of his youthful cockiness and made a show of unbuckling his jeans. He had the same smug grin as his uncle; he was good looking, and he knew it.
He unzipped and pulled down his pants and black underwear in one motion. Emily gasped at the stiffness of his shaft, angled high, almost along his stomach. It was long and lean just like him, as smooth and unblemished as his torso. He wasn’t as thick as Dwayne, but just as long, maybe longer, a streamlined rocket.
She reached for him, wanting to feel it, wanting to kiss it. At her first touch it twitched, jumping, and she would have laughed if she hadn’t been so mesmerized. The skin was impossibly smooth, even the veins, buried burrows that would carry his fluids.
Emily pulled her eyes away to see his face, watching his reaction as she cupped the underside of his shaft, pulling it toward her. Jackson was trying to stare her down, but he lost, his eyelids fluttering. Perhaps to cover his loss of control he grabbed her breasts, ravaging her nipples, twisting, then fell atop her. Emily cringed from the momentary pain, yet instead of collapsing her nipples engorged, smashing into his hard pectoral muscles. Her hand was crushed between them, she twisted to free herself without letting go his shaft. The motion dragged her nipples against his body and it was like she was being fondled by two men. Her mouth sought his, but Jackson was beyond kissing. He shifted his hips, pushed her hand away, pointed himself at her, and drove down.