by C. C. Morian
I was mesmerized, sated, yet still unable to shake the thought of watching Emily get fucked, of another man cumming on those stockings, on her ass.
In her.
A whole month went by. Emily didn’t mention a word of what had happened, the crazy sex in the living room, a sexual position she’d never experienced. She was glad Justin didn’t say anything about it either.
She was embarrassed, but she didn’t quite know why. It was her husband, after all. In their own house. And she hadn’t been drunk, not really, it wasn’t like she didn’t have all her faculties, maybe just enough of a buzz to lower her inhibitions.
And she’d wanted it.
Even now the idea made her squirm, it was so unlike her, so brazen, so much like the hussies she imagined who would have ordered the off color named drinks in a crowded bar. Was that the kind of sex they had, their legs spread wantonly, not facing their husbands, but being taken from behind?
Maybe not even with their husbands, but with some stranger they’d picked up in a bar, random men.
Just like the men who had been ogling her in the bar that night. Was that what those men wanted? To take her home or to a hotel and have sex?
That’s not the way they’d think of it. They would say, take her home and fuck her.
Even within the confines of her mind she could barely bear to mentally utter the word. Fuck. It was so dirty, so decadent. Girls like her, they didn’t fuck, they made love. To their husbands.
She loved Justin, and she knew he loved her. So they made love.
The act, though, was the same. What did it matter what it was called? She toyed with the words in her head. Making love to her husband. Fucking her husband who loved her.
Fucking a man who wanted her.
Emily shivered, wishing Justin was there. He was away on a business trip, just a few days, but so help her even though it was only seven in the morning and she had to get up to get to work she wanted to have sex with him right now. She would have reached for him, putting her hand between his legs, certainly surprising him, giving him the signal that she wanted to make love.
That she wanted to be fucked.
Under the smooth sheets she pretended Justin was there, pleased by his reaction, that even with her morning hair and without makeup, her eyes still filled with sleep, how he’d want her. Seeing past all that, and perhaps, excited by the newness, how out of character it was, her groping for him on a Wednesday morning, no less.
She sensed that’s why Justin had been so aroused in the living room, how shocked he had been, seeing her in a garter and stockings, seeing her spread her legs for him, entering her with no protection. He’d finished so fast, not that she had minded, she loved making him feel good, but there was no doubt he’d been uncontrollably aroused.
The danger of getting pregnant, she wanted it, someday, maybe soon, but it was such a big decision, they should decide as a couple, it shouldn’t be a mistake.
Yet she couldn’t get it out of her head, the idea of Justin’s seed shooting into her. She’d felt his hot cum splatter onto her back, her butt, her legs, and for an instant she’d wished it had been inside her instead.
Thinking about it even now, pretending he was there, lying on top of her, spreading her legs to give him access, bending her knees so he could reach deep inside.
Her hand dropped between her legs, she rarely masturbated, it seemed so selfish, but as long as she was thinking about Justin it shouldn’t matter, right? It was like sharing with him, as long as she was thinking about him. She slipped one finger inside herself, feeling the hint of her early wetness.
The juices reminding her of how she had kissed Justin right after he had licked her, and without giving herself time to think she put her hand to her mouth, running her wet fingers across her lips, kissing them, just as she had kissed Justin. Returning to her wetness, taking more, her body responding, two fingers now, inside herself, in her mouth, sucking, the taste intoxicating.
Over and over, back and forth, filling her mouth with her aroma, of her sex, and only when her nostrils were saturated did she keep her hand between her legs, pushing her fingers deep, it wasn’t enough, she needed a man, she needed Justin, she needed a cock.
Spurred on by her own smutty thoughts she gave up trying to recreate intercourse and instead rubbed her clit, hard, the way Justin had rubbed her as he had fucked her.
If only he was there, if only she had a man in her, spreading her open. She lifted and curled her legs, pulling her imaginary lover against her, their skin mashed together, until they were both ready.
And this time, as he started to come, he didn’t pull out, and she didn’t push him away, she embraced him with all her strength, his seed shooting into her, deep, flooding her unprotected womb.
I had set the alarm for seven on Wednesday morning, thinking even that was going to be too early. I’d been out drinking late after a work dinner with some of the guys. Yet I was awake a few minutes before the alarm went off. I’d been having one of those half dreams, the ones where you got to make it go pretty much how you wanted it to go.
In my dream I was having sex with Emily, recreating the memory of how we had done it in the living room, something I still had a hard time believing, even though it was vivid in my head. I’d certainly thought about it enough.
As I gradually wakened I took more and more control over the dream, turning it into my fantasy, another set of images I couldn’t shake. Still Emily, still bent over, but this time she was the one spreading her legs; not only that, she had her hands on her tight butt, pulling her ass cheeks apart, exposing her wet and willing pussy. Wanting it.
And in my fantasy I got to position myself around the room, viewing her from different positions, seeing her ass, her pussy. From the side, her slim, tight legs, balancing on the high fuck me heels, because that’s what they were, a neon sign telling every man she was available.
From the front, her hair covering her face, I lifted her chin, her eyes on me, her mouth parted, maybe embarrassed, shy. Her features changing, biting her lip, holding her breath, waiting, ready.
I look up, seeing a man behind her, a big man, even bigger than me. Sometimes it was the distinguished man I had seen at the restaurant, the one with the beautiful wife; he was giving me that knowing nod, I knew your wife would be a good fuck.
The man swirled, shifting, even as he thrust into her, and now it was someone else, a big muscular man, an ex football player Emily and I had once met at a function but whose name I forgot. Emily was mesmerized by his huge frame, and I was taken by how small she looked next to him. It was this man behind her now, a mountain towering over her.
I wondered if Emily remembered his name, his touch.
In my fantasy dream, he didn’t give me any nod, he just ignored me, his hands were on Emily. Emily squeezed my hand, in fear, in expectation, in need.
I grabbed for my cock, wishing I was with Emily right now, wondering what she was doing, probably in the shower, getting ready for work, certainly not lying in bed masturbating as I was, fantasizing about a strange man about to fuck her.
Wouldn’t that be the most amazing thing, lying next to her, hearing her tell me about a wild fantasy, listening to her dreams as she masturbated.
I’d tell her it was okay, anything to make her happy, she could think about whomever she wanted, she could do whatever she wanted.
The older man was back, moving me aside, positioning his cock against Emily’s mouth as the big man fucked her. I wasn’t so much forced to watch as wanting to see, getting a front row seat, hearing Emily’s cries of joy as the two men pushed into her.
The man in her mouth grabbed the back of Emily’s head and filled her mouth with his cum, Emily moaning, swallowing, the taste setting herself off, her body shaking, her hand jerking the cock in her mouth, taking every drop. The other man grunted and rammed into her, shooting into her unprotected pussy even as she continued to orgasm around him.
None of them, not even Emily, even n
oticing as I jerked myself off, my cock jumping, my own cum having nowhere to go but into the sheets.
Emily was a little nervous, she’d never been to one of Justin’s work retreats. She’d met a few of his co-workers when she had watched him play softball on the company team, everyone seemed nice. But seeing a bunch of guys play softball after work was different from a three day retreat at a Florida resort.
Not that she was uncomfortable with business people, she worked in an office herself. But she wanted Justin’s bosses to have a good opinion of her, it would be good for his job.
She’d read over the brochure about the event that Justin had shown her, the events, the facility. It could be fun. Justin would be in meetings during the mornings, but they’d have the afternoons together, some group activities, even a little private time. It would be like a mini vacation.
There wasn’t enough information about what to wear, the event description had probably been written by a man. Business casual, it said. For a guy that meant khakis, a button down shirt or a polo. For a woman, it could mean anything.
Her work outfits weren’t quite casual enough, her every day hang around the house clothes too casual, she doubted the other women would be there in jogging tights. She had plenty of jeans, but didn’t quite know Justin’s office culture, in some places, jeans were more than dressed up, in others, not enough.
Emily packed the easy things first, underwear, toiletries. Some jogging shoes, it would be great to be out in the warm weather, fall arriving early here in the north. One set of yoga pants, she’d noticed that the facility had Pilates classes. One basic flowery summer dress, some flats, one pair of low heels. Now what?
She gazed in the closet, undecided. Her eyes fell on the skirt Justin had given her. She hadn’t worn it since that night. She still loved it, but the skirt, the entire outfit, had become entirely connected to what had taken place that evening, the stockings, the sex. Even her wild thoughts about other men looking at her, wanting her.
She couldn’t bring herself to wear those clothes again, afraid of how’d she’d respond.
Maybe for a special occasion. Or just for Justin.
She brushed her hand across the soft fabric of the blouse. Maybe she could wear just the blouse with something else. Or the skirt without the heels. Definitely without the heels.
The shoes were beautiful, though, such a shame to not wear them. Smiling, she slipped into them, the leather molding to her naked feet, immediately feeling the rush. Even though she was alone in the house she looked around guiltily.
Still, that didn’t stop her from checking herself out in the mirror. She was in a pair of capri leggings, about as casual as you could be, she wore them for comfort, not the look. The leggings made her look even shorter than her petite frame, yet the tall heels lengthened her again, transforming her into something else. Emily was fully aware of fashion, she just didn’t experiment much. She was amazed at how good this looked on her, a nicer pair of leggings would be even better.
Too bad she’d never wear something so—eye attracting—in public.
She sighed and reluctantly slipped out of the shoes, returning them to their place under the skirt so they’d be ready for whatever special occasion came up.
“It feels so good to just lie in the sun!” said Emily, lying on her stomach in the comfortable lounge chairs.
“You can sit out here all the rest of the afternoon while I’m stuck in these meetings,” said Justin.
“I’d rather be with you, although I just might at that.”
“Then I’d better put some lotion on your back.”
Justin’s hands felt wonderful as he lathered the lotion over her. Emily had not been a sun person growing up, her skin was too light, she would burn. But the long winters got to her, she was looking forward to a little pool time, maybe do a few laps, have an iced tea. The conference didn’t really start until dinner tonight, but Justin had to arrive early for some extra meetings.
They’d had lunch by the pool, Emily in a cover up since she was wearing a somewhat skimpy two piece. Not what she’d normally wear, but during packing she’d discovered that the elastic on her regular one piece bathing suit had gone loose, it looked terrible. She did have another one piece, but it was old and ugly, she should have thrown it out years ago. Frustrated, she looked though one of the boxes her sister Lisa had left, and sure enough, two pretty bathing suits, but way skimpier than what Emily normally wore. The bottoms fit okay, but her sister had bigger boobs and the top was really loose.
Emily was feeling a little pasty, and a little sun wouldn’t hurt. But Justin was right, she needed the lotion now. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“We’ll have plenty of time together,” said Justin. “Speaking of going, I gotta run, I need a shower.”
Justin kissed her on the forehead and headed off back to the room. Emily lay there for a while, just luxuriating in the warmth. But after a half hour she got bored, she wasn’t one to sit still, so she jumped in the pool.
Which was colder than she expected, goose bumps immediately popping out on her unaccustomed skin. The pool was almost empty, just a few older ladies against one wall, so Emily did laps, she loved swimming.
After a while the chlorine started to get to her eyes, she’d forgotten to pack her goggles. She groped for the edge of the pool, her eyes stinging, momentarily unable to see clearly, where was the ladder? She didn’t need it, she hoisted herself up over the edge, feeling her top slip down, her boobs almost popping out. She squealed, dropping back into the pool, covering her chest with her arm while trying to pull the top back up. It was pretty useless, the water weighing it down, the top barely covering her nipples, which had stiffened in the sudden chill. She still couldn’t see well, the chlorine making her eyes tear.
She tried again to hoist herself up, using one arm, she didn’t have the strength, she had to let go the suit top, feeling exposed, grabbed at it, the arm holding her out of the water shaking with the effort. Just as she was about to drop back into the water a powerful hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her effortlessly out of the pool in one quick motion.
Emily felt like she was flying through the air, weightless. An arm wrapped around her waist and set her down. She squinted her eyes, momentarily stunned, trying to clear her vision. Opened her eyes, but could see only blackness. She couldn’t see!
Then a towel was placed against her face. “You look like you need this.” The voice, deep, rumbling, vibrant.
She grabbed at the towel, rubbing her eyes, but when she opened them it was still black. Then she realized it wasn’t because she couldn’t see, it was because her eyes were inches away from the chest of a huge black man. Her eyes widened, she took an involuntary step backward, forgetting where she was, and would have fallen over backward into the pool if the man hadn’t reached out again to hold her.
“Easy there,” he cautioned.
He was huge, towering over her, much taller than Justin, who wasn’t short at all. His chest rippled with muscles. He was gazing down at her like a cat who had caught a small mouse and was deciding whether to eat it or play with it. His eyes were deep islands of black in an ocean of brilliant white. His head was completely shaven, his scalp smooth and dark. He was so powerfully handsome Emily stopped breathing.
Emily was suddenly very aware of where she was, half naked, pushing against a stranger. Worse, the man could easily see her breasts right down her loose top. How long had he been there? How much had he seen as she had struggled to get out of the pool? Her nipples were still hard from the cold air.
She pulled the towel up over her front. “Thank you,” she mumbled, wanting to get past him, but not able to move. She figured he must be with the resort staff, and had seen her struggling, so he brought her a towel.
“No problem,” he said, but made no attempt to get out of the way.
“I, uh, can I get by?”
“I don’t know. Can you?”
His face was like a carved statue, Emily co
uldn’t tell if he was joking. “I don’t want to get you wet,” she said, finally noticing his clothes, a black form fitting stretch top, elegant slacks.
“You already did, when you jumped out of the pool at me,” he said.
“What? I didn’t—” Emily’s eyes went to his chest, was he wet? It was hard to tell, the shirt clung to his body, dark. She looked up into his eyes, and caught the barest twinkle, the cat had decided to play. Or at least she hoped.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I’m not as wet as you.”
“I didn’t jump at you,” Emily protested. “I couldn’t see, the chlorine. . .”
“Sure, sure, that’s fine.” He still made no move to step away. “I was watching you do laps, you look good in the water.”
Oh god, he was watching me, he must have seen. . .She felt so self conscious about her loose top and pulled the towel closer. And what was that comment about looking good in the water? “I’ve done a lot of swimming,” she stammered.
“That too,” he said.
They stood there like that, at the edge of the pool, Emily’s heart beating, she didn’t know why, the shock perhaps. His presence simply overwhelmed her, his size, his obvious strength, her precarious position and skimpy clothing.
“I’ll put some more lotion on you,” he said. “You’re so—white.”
Emily shivered, but not from the cold, her mind jumping to the thought of him rubbing lotion into her back, on her legs, his hands would blanket her, for some reason this popping into her mind instead of what she should be thinking, the audacity of this resort worker to make such a suggestion. She was too polite to say anything snappish, she’d just tell him that her husband would put on her lotion, thank you very much.
“I’ll be okay,” she said instead, wondering why she didn’t tell the black man about her husband. After all, she was wearing her wedding ring.
“I could insist,” he said.