Coming Together With Curves

by Victoria Blisse

  "I'm expanding to accommodate my little guest," Marisa finally said.

  Tariq forced a smile, desperate to maintain his calm façade. His heart raced in his chest while Marisa squeezed the hell out of his hand. Even the split-second her brother spent processing their news felt like two hours. Or three, even. Darien was the eternal favorite, the golden boy, the great success. He acted as the family barometer.

  Marisa squeezed harder. Her fingernails traumatized Tariq's hand.

  "You two…" Darien shifted out of his seat, expression stone, and for a moment Tariq was sure he'd take a punch in the face before dessert hit the table.

  Then, buttoning his blazer as if on instinct, Darien beckoned Marisa out of the booth for a hug. When she was in her brother's arms, face buried against his shoulder, Darien laughed. "You sure put that honeymoon to good use!"

  Overcome with relief, Tariq took a long sip of ice water. Darien grabbed his hand, shook it, then pulled him into a family hug. Man oh man, even announcing their engagement hadn't been this nerve-wracking.

  "Well, that explains the steaks," Darien chuckled, taking back his seat in the booth. "What a reason to celebrate! I'm going to be an uncle."

  * * * *

  "I was trembling," Marisa confessed, pressing the button for the elevator. "Could you hear it in my voice? God, I thought I was going to toss my cookies."

  "No, you sounded totally calm! I couldn't believe it. You just came right out and told him." Tariq wrapped an arm around his glowing wife as the doors chimed. "But, honey, you tore my hand to shreds. Look--you broke the skin."

  "Aw, poor Tariq," she replied, kissing his boo-boo before pulling him into the empty elevator. "You're going to be so jealous when I'm mollycoddling this baby and you have to kiss yourself all better."

  "Kiss myself better?" he asked, trying to be all boyish and sexy as he pressed the button for the twenty-third floor. "Nah, babe, I need your kisses. Can't do that all by myself."

  Thank God they were finally alone. Tariq cuddled in behind his woman and wrapped his arms around her big waist. He'd been surprised, in the restaurant, that Darien had noticed, but he could see it now, that budding baby bump. This was for real. Real life, no turning back now.

  Their reflections stared back at them in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors of the spick and span elevator. Tariq rested his chin on top of Marisa's head, watching her sparkle. His woman was a dream. She was curvy and brilliant and hilarious—Halle Berry with a little meat on her bones. Tariq was taller, darker, critics might say lanky, with the boyish grin of a high school kid. An ideal husband? Maybe not for everybody, but Marisa seemed happy with him. If there's one thing she could never question, it was his devotion. He only had eyes for her.

  "Did we always look this good?" she asked, giving him that sly sort of smile he loved so much. Taking both his hands in both of hers, she ran them from her hips all the way up to her chest. The stretchy fabric of her tight purple dress made his legs weak, but the thing between them didn't seem to be having the same problem—it was long and strong and hard as ever.

  "You always looked this good," Tariq replied, giving her breasts a playful squeeze. Oh, those massive globes of hot flesh felt so good in his hands. He wanted more. He needed it.

  Marisa watched in the mirrors as Tariq circled his hands around her spectacular tits. "Can you believe these puppies are going to get bigger?"

  "Mmm…" Tariq growled in her ear, catching the lobe between his teeth. He'd be a tripod soon, his dick was getting so big. "I just love your puppies. I'm going to be humping some legs, I love your puppies so much."

  "Legs?" Marisa laughed, raising her skirt. "No husband of mine's gonna be humping no legs."

  "Oh, I see." He smirked, watching his wife's keen expression in the mirror. "What is your husband gonna be humping?"

  Grasping his hand, she pressed it to her mound and made him squeeze. It was hot. A titillated tingle ran through him, toes to nose. His cock surged inside his pants. "I thought you might like to pet my pretty kitty."

  He growled deep in his throat, rubbing her wet pussy overtop of her black satin panties. "You know just what I like." His hard cock pressed between her ass cheeks like a steel rod. He rocked his hips against her backside while his fingers stroked her front. Her breath fluttered—he could hear it and even feel it through her skin when he pressed his cheek against her temple. The slick fabric of her underthings made him tremble.

  "You get me hot, mister man." Marisa cooed, holding up the hem of her skirt as he slipped his fingers under her panties.

  "That's just the hormones talking," he began, "but, hey, I'll take hormones if this is what it gets me."

  She was so hot down there, and so wet he had trouble finding her clit among the juicy folds. Her flesh was satin, pink satin, though all he could see in the mirror was his hand, a writhing bulge beneath those black panties. Watching turned him on just as much as the act itself, and he couldn't keep himself from pulling down on her low-cut dress, pulling the firm cup of her bra until her gorgeous tit spilled out. Half and half, one in and one out—the image brought Tariq so near to the edge he had to close his eyes for a moment.

  Marisa whimpered and moaned as he stroked her pussy lips, grinding his fingers against her clit, hearing in her voice how much she loved it. The thought never left his mind that they were in an elevator, essentially in public. Anybody could get on at any time, and if those doors opened right this second, somebody would get an eyeful of Marisa. God, her body was beautiful. He was watching again, trying to get her there before the elevator did. She was so horny these days, so eternally close to climax, that he was pretty sure he could get her off before they arrived at their floor.

  When he pinched her hard nipple, that did the trick. She reached back, right behind him, and managed to grab his ass as she hollered and whined. He just kept at her, rubbing that engorged clit, squeezing that dark tit, until she slid down his legs, all the way to the floor. "Enough, enough, enough," she whispered. And then, "Oh God, oh God, oh God."

  Of course, the elevator door chose that moment to open. Twenty-third floor. Honey, we're home! Tariq sighed. "Why don't we live in a taller building? I got a tent going on here that could survive a hurricane."

  "I guess you'll just have to take me and my hormones to bed," Marisa sighed, letting Tariq haul her up from the floor before dragging him out of the elevator by the belt.

  "Aww…" he moaned. "We do it in bed every night."

  Marisa chuckled, jingling her keys against his fingers. "And you're complaining…why?"

  "I was hoping for an impromptu elevator fuck, that's all." He tried to keep his voice down. It really carried in this hallway, and he didn't exactly want his neighbours to know what they'd been up to. Well…okay, maybe he did.

  "Sounds magical," she teased, sliding her key in the door. She pushed it just hard enough to get it over the woven mat in the front hall, but not so hard she'd bop Chloe in the nose. Poor girl acquired her share of injuries running into the front door.

  "How's my baby girl?" Tariq squealed, picking up the little blonde. Chloe yipped and licked his face while Marisa sought the pink leash. "Daddy loves you, yes he does. He missed you all through dinner, yes he did."

  "You are ridiculous with that dog." Marisa kissed Tariq's cheek and, in return, received a series of sloppy licks from Chloe. "And you, Dame Chloe, are going for a walk with us."

  Pulling the front door open, she gave Tariq's bum a smack. He shot her a deliberately coy smirk as he sauntered into the hallway. The elevator took its fine time, as usual, and Marisa stared at him. She was up to something, oh yes she was. The moment that elevator dinged, she grabbed hold of his package, squeezed the life back into his waning erection. It felt so good he nearly fell over. "Not in front of Chloe!" Tariq teased. "She's impressionable."

  "Oh, I apologize." Marisa laughed while the elevator doors hurled open. "Could I at least give you a kiss?"

  "Are you talking to me or Chloe?"

  "
I'm talking to my smokin' hot husband," she replied, cornering him in the empty elevator. Running her hands along his sides, she stood on tip-toes to reach his lips. She kissed him, parting his teeth with a forceful tongue, and writhing against his hard body. At first, she managed to ignore Chloe's little licks at her neck, but when the elevator came to a stop, she spun around. Past a certain age, making out in public became poor etiquette, though with the pregnancy all semblance of good manners seemed to be heading out the window.

  "What floor are we at?" Marisa asked, gazing upward. Penthouse. They'd gone up instead of down.

  "We forgot to press a button," Tariq realized as a meticulously coifed woman stepped into the elevator. A happy little Yorkie dressed in a Burberry sweater followed.

  Tariq sank to his knees to greet the pup. "What's your name, little lady? This is Chloe."

  He looked up at the dog's owner, expecting pleasant conversation. The white-haired woman's response was a distant, "Lobby, please."

  Marisa's lips quivered for a moment before pursing tightly. She stared daggers at the woman. The little Burberry dog licked Tariq's outstretched hand, but his heart had already stopped beating.

  "Lobby," the woman repeated, scooping the Yorkie up into her arms.

  When Tariq rose to his feet, the woman cowered in the corner. His stomach fell. Why would anybody be afraid of me? He looked at Marisa in dismay as she punched the Lobby button with her thumb. The air was so thick, even the inane pop music playing through the speakers couldn't slice it.

  Thank God for the gay guys who boarded the elevator holding hands. They had a pug named Socrates who'd taken an indisputable liking to Chloe. Tariq felt vindicated as he watched the old woman's expression in the mirror. Cruel, perhaps, but what could she possibly have against he and Marisa? They were neighbors, for Christ's sake! Tenants of the same building, paying through the nose to live in a safe, quiet apartment in a nice part of the city. Still, they would never be on equal footing.

  When Marisa, Tariq, and the gay guys stepped out of the elevator, the old snob sped from the lobby, shooting them dirty looks over her shoulder.

  "Who does she think she is?" Marisa said to the guys. "You should have heard the way she talked to us! Lobby please, like we black folk are all at her beck and call. It's infuriating."

  "She's the same way with us," the plump guy with bleach-blond hair consoled. "Acts like we've got a disease…"

  "…And it's catching," the taller one continued. "Don't let it get to you. She's a dying breed."

  "But she's not dead yet." Marisa sighed as Tariq extracted Chloe from Socrates' loving embrace. "Oh no! I forgot to grab poo bags," she said.

  The tall guy reached inside the right pocket of his cargo pants and handed her a few plastic sacks. "Here you go."

  Marisa smiled and tied them around Chloe's leash. "Thank you." Tariq could see in her eyes how touched she was by the small gesture of kindness.

  "No probs," Socrates' parents bid as they headed out back. "Have a good walk."

  Grinning reflectively, Marisa held the glass door for Chloe and Tariq. "They are such nice people. We should find out their names."

  Moonlight devoured dusk as Chloe led them to the park in introspective silence. It was funny how he and Marisa knew the dog's name, but not his owners' names. That seemed to be dog park etiquette these days.

  As they walked together, yet alone in their thoughts, it occurred to Tariq that they hadn't actually finished that conversation started at the restaurant. "Do you really not remember how we met?" he asked. He hated to rehash a closed topic, but he was still in disbelief.

  "Of course I do. How could I forget meeting the man of my dreams?"

  "So spill," Tariq encouraged. "How did we meet?"

  She gave his hand a squeeze. "You know very well we met at the Helpline's annual general meeting."

  "Tell it to me like it's a bedtime story," he said, though he knew she was totally off-base. "Tell it like you're telling our baby how her parents met."

  They stopped to let Chloe to do her business. "You are ridiculous."

  "I know."

  "Okay, once upon a time, there was fat, lonely woman named Marisa…"

  "Once upon a time, there was a lovely, curvaceous woman named Marisa," Tariq corrected.

  With a grin, she continued, "Marisa was on the board of directors for the Women's Crisis Helpline…"

  "She was the Treasurer." Once Chloe finished, Tariq picked up after her.

  Marisa clicked her teeth to scold him. "Who's telling this story, anyway?"

  "Sorry." He threw the baggie in a garbage can and they sauntered to the bench under the path light.

  She eased herself into the seat, looking more like a pregnant woman with each second that passed. "To take minutes at the Helpline's meeting, our Chair called on a friend who'd offered to volunteer with us. Tariq worked as a note-taker, so it was a perfect match." Marisa stretched out her legs in front of the bench. Their pup jumped up, tracking muddy paws all over Tariq's lap. Scratching behind Chloe's ears, Marisa rested her head against his shoulder. "The second you walked in the room, I smiled. You were so damn cute, Tariq. It was love at first sight."

  "I was sweating like a hog! Can you imagine how nervous I was, walking into a room full of powerful women?"

  Marisa smiled. "I saw you and I knew you were going to be in my life forever."

  Chloe flipped onto her back so Tariq could rub her belly. "How did you know?"

  "You had such a sweet look about you, like a lost little boy. That's why I waved you over and had you sit next to me."

  When she gazed up at him, he leaned in for a tender peck on the lips—one that lingered and swelled into a full-blown make-out kiss. Chloe hopped to the ground as Marisa ran her hand along his thigh. "I've never for a second forgotten why I fell in love with you," she cooed, unbuckling his belt. He couldn't believe what she was doing. Sliding down his zipper, she reached into his pants. "All night I've wanted to wrap my lips around your cock."

  High Alert! Tariq looked across the park. There was nobody around, but the idea of getting caught unnerved him. His heart seemed to thump against his ribcage. "We're right under the lights. I appreciate the enthusiasm, honey, but we can't do this here. Besides, Chloe's watching."

  "Screw the pooch," Marisa teased. She sprung his cock from its prison of fabric. "I want to taste you."

  How could he say no? The sparkle in her eyes spoke of profound lust, unending desire, and God did he ever want to feel Marisa's sticky, waxy, very shimmery lipstick against his dick. When she rushed his lap, he didn't stop her. Tariq's whole body seized at the sensation of her wet tongue against the seam of his cockhead. No use arguing with Marisa--she knew what she wanted. Anyway, a bit of oral in the park was hardly an imposition. That demon tongue could lick him straight to hell. He'd just have to keep an eye out for passers-by.

  Lunging at his plump cock, Marisa kicked into high gear. She swallowed his firm flesh, sucking like crazy. Instinctively, he surged, plunging his cock up into her mouth. It was a knee-jerk reaction. He couldn't help it. When he apologized, she only growled and pumped the base of his dick with her fist. Her eagerness was the greatest turn-on of all.

  Marisa's soft, wet mouth trapped him in a vacuum. As she sucked, the pleasure mounted. It came up from his toes and throbbed through his calves. He grasped tightly at Chloe's pink leash, regretting that her virgin eyes had to witness such a down-and-dirty sight. Although, after what she'd been up to with Socrates, maybe he shouldn't feel so corrupt.

  "I gotta say, pregnancy agrees with you," Tariq chuckled. He couldn't believe this was really happening. They were in public, in a park. Anybody could walk by. Sure it was dark out, but only just, and they were sitting directly under a big light. But did that mean he wanted to stop? Hell, no! This was dream material. This was a men's magazine letter. This couldn't possibly be real life. Each time they walked by this bench from here on in, Tariq would picture this night together and feel his wife's silken
mouth sucking his fat dick.

  Marisa sat up with a wicked glint in her eye. "I don't control the hormones-the hormones control me!" But that glint quickly turned to apprehension as she caught sight of something down the path. Tariq turned to see none other than the Burberry bitch, and her little dog too!

  "No way!" Marisa laughed as the horrid woman approached. Tariq couldn't be so jovial about the situation. His heart was racing, pounding so hard he could hear it loud and clear. He quickly buried his cock in his pants and crossed his legs tight.

  "Beautiful evening for a walk," Marisa called out. The disgruntled woman sprinted past without so much as a nod of recognition, but Marisa couldn't be dissuaded. "Have a good night! See you around the building, neighbour!"

  The designer dog and owner shot out of sight.

  It was a relief to see his wife in a playful mood after the earlier effrontery. Turning to Tariq, she smiled. "Now, where were we?"

  Tariq's heart still thudded in his chest. "About to head home, I think. That was a close call."

  "Aw, come on!" she begged. Digging his cock from his pants, she sculpted it like clay. God, were her hands ever soft! "Let me finish you off, babe."

  How could he resist those dark, pouty lips? "If you insist…"

  "Oh, baby, I do," she replied. As she wrapped her mouth around his craving cock, those two words—I do—took him back to their terrifying, expensive, incredible wedding day. He couldn't believe she went through with it. What did this sexy, smart, generous woman see in him?

  Marisa dug inside Tariq's shorts and squeezed his balls, bringing him back into the now. She took a slow, long lick up his shaft. Her pink tongue circled him like a snake. She gave his rod a friendly bite before sucking venom out the tip. His whole body trembled when her tongue tickled the slit of his cockhead. She flicked it in a fast frenzy. "You're so beautiful," he choked, running his fingers along the back of her neck. "So beautiful…"

  As she plunged down on him, pumping his cock with her fist, he gazed through moist eyes at his gorgeous wife. For some reason, she loved him. Somehow, he turned her on enough that she insisted on giving him head in a public park. As he watched her glorious head plunging against his lap, Tariq's thighs trembled. The familiar sensations took over, and as relieved as he was that they might actually get away with this outdoor play, he felt a pinch in knowing it would soon be over. God, he could thrust in his wife's hot mouth forever. She was so damn gorgeous, so beautiful.