by C. C. Morian
Just as Damian had pushed into her at the gym.
Fortunately the scene shifted again, forcing Emily’s mind off of Damian. The woman was propped on her back, the black man now between her legs. He used two fingers to probe her, and Emily could easily tell how wet the woman was. The man reached under her legs, lifting them, and then started to lick her.
Emily squirmed. She was still so uncomfortable with oral sex. Yet this woman reveled in it, opening herself, her hands on the black man’s. Emily envied the way she was able to so unselfconsciously just enjoy herself, let her lover please her.
Emily wished she could do that, for Justin.
The black man continued to lick the brunette, and at one point the woman glanced at the camera, not shy at all, smiling, like she was including her husband in her pleasure. In that instant Emily understood something about the woman; even though her husband was not on the bed, this was for him too. It was as if the woman was having sex with both men, even though she was only touching one of them.
The man kissed her belly, not once, but over and over. For some reason his focus there was even more erotic than when he had licked her, reminding Emily of how Damian had touched her own belly, making her think of being pregnant. It was as if the black man was saying he was going to put a baby in her. Emily’s fingers went to her own stomach, feeling her rising heat. She fought the urge to touch herself anywhere else.
The black man’s tongue drifted up the woman’s body, between her breasts, and then into her mouth, making her taste herself. Emily’s own mouth parched as if it were suddenly thirsty, needing sustenance, needing that kiss.
Once again she shook off her tempting thoughts.
They kissed long and deep, the kiss of lovers. The man was poised atop her, his erection pointing at her opening. Emily watched, fascinated, knowing what was going to happen, and yet, when he entered her, gasped all the same, her voice mixing with the woman on the screen, both of them responding the same way.
He was inside her.
And all at once Emily knew she had lost her own challenge, she never had a chance. The sight of the black man entering the woman released a flood of juices between Emily’s legs, just as it was with the woman on the screen. Emily shoved her hands between her legs, pressing, blocking, fighting it off, like she’d try to stop from peeing, but it was no use, nothing as simple as her tiny fingers could stand a chance against such a powerful assault.
Nothing could stand a chance against her awakened need.
She tried one last time, squeezing her legs together, resisting.
But the woman on the screen spread her legs as wide as she could, wrapping her hands around the black man’s tight ass, her fingers dancing on his back. She was not resisting a need, she was doing what her body was telling her to do. And what she wanted to share with her husband.
The brunette gave another glance toward the camera, this one quick, and in that glance Emily could tell she was sharing with him, thanking him for this opportunity to explore something new, someone different. Emily imagined the husband, perhaps nervous, worrying that he would lose his wife to this other man, so well endowed, such a good lover. Yet that worry was part of the excitement, part of what drove him to touch himself as he watched.
The woman closed her eyes, burying her head in the black man’s neck, pulling him close. Her husband was in the room, but now she was focused on only one thing. She gave in to her need.
As did Emily. She slung off the covers just as she had abandoned her promise to herself to not be affected, she had to face her own truth. She thrust her fingers into her dripping wetness and shamelessly fucked herself, and so help her, she wished it was the black man atop her now.
The woman in the video was breathing heavily, moaning with each thrust. Her mouth was open, her eyelids fluttering, her nostrils flaring. Is that what Justin would see Emily do if she were making love with another man? Could she let her inhibitions go enough to do that?
Emily’s fingers ran back and forth from her clit to her opening, each time pretending she was getting licked, then fucked.
The black man’s grunts grew deeper and closer together. “Oh, yes, please, go ahead,” she breathed. “Do it!”
“What do you want?” growled the black man.
“Make me pregnant!”
Emily was too aroused to be stunned, her fingers pushing deep.
The black man let out a powerful groan, the camera zooming in on his hard spasms. The woman screamed, grasping at his back, pulling him in.
Emily spread her legs wide, forcing almost her whole hand in herself, her wrist driving against her clit, imagining forceful seed being shot in her, into her pussy, into her womb.
Her orgasm rushed over her, squeezing her own hand, pulling, sucking, her body demanding the seed that wasn’t there. Emily’s own juices ran between her thighs, soaking the sheets, and so help her she wished it was more than just her own juices overfilling her.
She held her eyes shut, holding onto the dream, a new Emily, confident enough in her husband’s love to be with another man as he watched, confident enough in her own needs to spread her legs for another man.
When she finally opened her eyes the video had ended, the woman still holding the man inside her. Her eyes were staring at the camera, at her husband, he face flushed, a look of utter bliss and ecstasy.
And, odd as it may have seemed, of love.
I’d had a long week in the field and was really tired. The new job was great, but I’d be glad when we had finished this phase.
Emily usually called me before she went to bed, since I was the one who would be up later. But tonight I needed to hit the hay, otherwise I’d be useless tomorrow.
“Hi Emily!”
“Hi.”
Her voice seemed oddly subdued. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I was just—how about you? It’s still early, isn’t it?”
“I’m going to bed soon. Long day.” As I was talking I started unbuttoning my shirt, I was afraid I’d be too tired to do it later. “How was your day? Anything exciting happen?”
“No. . .why would you ask?”
“Just making conversation.”
“Nothing worth talking about, not really. Just—just me being myself.”
Emily still sounded a little odd, but I was so tired I might have been imagining it, and selfishly, I wasn’t ready for a long talk anyway. I told her a little about my day while I pulled back the covers, not really even remembering exactly what I said. She was silent when I finished, and not wanting to just talk about myself, I asked, “How was work?”
“Fine. The usual.”
“Did you go to the gym after?”
There was a brief hesitation. “Just to work out.”
I was about to ask her why else she would go to the gym, but I was busy pulling off my shoes. “That sounds good. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
“Justin?”
“Yes?”
“Remember what you said to me a while ago? That you’d love me no matter what?”
Now I was sure something was bothering her. “Of course I meant it. I will always love you.”
“Even if you found out I wasn’t who you thought I was?”
“Emily, what’s brought this on?”
“Please, Justin, just tell me!”
“Emily, I will love you no matter what. And what you are worrying about can’t happen. I know you. Sure, we all change, we grow, but we’re doing that together. I know who you are inside. That’s the part that I love.”
I heard her sigh. “Together. That’s the word I needed.”
“Are you okay?” I was wide awake now.
She gave a little nervous laugh. “Just some female insecurities, I guess. I just needed to hear it.”
“Anytime,” I said. “Is there anything we need to talk about?”
“No. I just wish you were here.”
“Me too. Just a few more days.”
“I can’t wait for you to
come home.”
She seemed better. I took her at her word, she just missed me, maybe she was a little lonely. “Hey, why don’t you join one of those classes at the gym, it will give you something to look forward to and keep you occupied in the evenings.”
“Maybe. I’ll think about it.
“Okay. Love you. Really. Always.”
“I love you too.”
I hung up and got ready for bed. Something nagged at me, but I was too tired to realize what it might be.
Emily sat at the dining room table, staring at her phone. All the lights were off except the one in the kitchen, the dining room dim. She let her mind drift, aimlessly picking up her phone and directing its diffused screen light across the room. Reflections from the crystal jar danced at her like a beacon, calling, and all at once she knew what she had to do.
With a sense of purpose she got up and placed the jar in the middle of the table. Next she retrieved the pad and the pen.
It was time to face the reality of who she was.
She thought she had known herself so well. She was the shy, traditional, loving wife, destined to be with one man. Justin. Some of that was still true; she had no doubt that she’d always love him, she’d always be with him.
And he’d always love her. No matter what she thought or did. On the phone, she’d wanted to hear him say it, but she would have known even if he hadn’t.
And yet, she was someone else now. Maybe she’d always been someone else, another part of Emily tucked away, only to be uncovered with a magic word. Or a random look from another man.
Or a certain video.
She had tried to fight this new realization, but had failed. Perhaps she would try again. But she had always been a hard headed realist. Her parents had taught her you just couldn’t wish away facts, they had to be dealt with head on. There were just certain realities in the world.
And in oneself.
She simply had to face the simple fact that from now on, a part of her would always be excited by what she previously would have thought of as sinful ideas. Like sex with another man. This was her new reality that had to be faced. There were probably others as well. It made her wonder: if you didn’t try to find out what might excite you, did that arousal not exist? If she looked at no more videos, would she never know what else lay deep down inside, in whatever drove her arousals?
That was for another time. Right now, she had two pieces of the puzzle. The first was her excitement over seeing a woman have sex with someone not her husband.
And the second was Damian.
Whether he was an embodiment of black men, or there was something about him in particular, she didn’t know. And she didn’t want to find out. She wouldn’t succumb to Damian. She couldn’t allow herself to, for Justin’s sake. And her own.
Which left only one option.
Emily toyed with the cover of the jar, putting it on and taking it off. If only things were that simple. If only she could close up her jar of arousals, hide them in the darkness, out of the light that would make the jar gleam, the light that would make the arousals call to her. No light to glitter off a diamond ring.
She held her left hand up, letting her ring catch the light from the phone. So much promise in a ring, so much togetherness. Would that ring sparkle any less if caught in the lamp of a hotel room, her hand wrapped around another man?
Or would it appear to be even brighter?
The other reason she couldn’t close the jar was that Justin already knew. Some of it, anyway. He’d seen her arousal. Not only how she’d reacted to the video, but to his words, his whispered steamy sex talk that should have disgusted her, but only drove her into a frenzy.
He knew.
So she’d have to face it, one way or another. The question was how.
Fortunately, she had a loving husband she could face it with. She wouldn’t be setting out on this path of discovery all alone.
No doubt she’d learn something about Justin as well, and something about their relationship. But she knew she’d love him no matter what. As for their relationship—if it couldn’t survive the truth, then they had much bigger problems.
She picked up the pen and began to write. Not jumping to the destination; all new journeys started with a single step. Yet that one step could be momentous, because without it, neither the journey nor the destination could ever be experienced.
When she was finished she folded the paper and put it in the jar.
The End Of Book 1
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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Awakening Her Needs Book 2?
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Other books in the Her Needs Series
Discovering Her Needs
Satisfying Her Needs
Coming Soon
Accepting Her Needs
Exploring Her Needs
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About the authors
Blaise Quin. I love to write stories that fall into the space between romance and erotica. I try to give enough backstory and buildup so that the hot stuff has some context, instead of it just hitting you out of the blue. On the other hand, I know a lot of readers don’t want to wade through hundreds of pages of sometimes trivial information and repetition to get to anything juicy. So think of my stories as the best parts of a steamy romance, or if you prefer, wild situations that you can actually imagine coming true.
C. C. Morian. I write longer stories filled with incredible realism which explore how couples discover something new about their spouses—and themselves. Or how men and women learn what really turns them on, often in unexpected, but perfectly believable, ways.
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Books by C. C. Morian and Blaise Quin
Discovering Her Needs
Janet’s first marriage was a disaster, and her rebound relationships more of the same, all sex and no love. She promised herself that if she finally settled down it would be for all the right reasons. When she met Mason, she thought she finally found who she wanted to be with, a good, supportive man. So what if their love life wasn’t so wild? She’d been there, done that.
Mason’s no wimp, but he does enjoy watching other man check out his sexy wife. It’s his little secret, just something to pass the time when he’s at some boring work event with Janet. But when he witnesses Janet running into ex lover Brad, he’s stunned by her reaction—and his own.
Janet is amazed at how her revelations to Mason about what she did with her old boyfriends spices up their love life. It’s just harmless fun, right?
Until she meets up with Brad again, this time on purpose.
Not only for her, but for Mason.
Satisfy
ing Her Needs
Peter’s wife Andie is hot, but when it comes to sex, she just goes through the motions, and not very often at that. She says she loves him, but married him for all his good qualities, not anything physical. The only way Andie can get excited is by fantasizing about other men. Not faceless, nameless men, but real men she knows, men she has flirted with. Although Peter wishes he alone could turn Andie on, her fantasies help rekindle their love life.
Until Peter finds the video. . .
Revenge Is Best Served Hot: Powerful Women (3 novella bundle)
Giving Him What He Deserves
The Kissing Game
Reversing Roles
Even the strongest women can be made to feel powerless in the face of a sexist boss, a cheating boyfriend, or even a devious girlfriend. See how these women reclaim their power, and get their revenge.
Three stories of revenge served hot
Giving Him What He Deserves: A wife gets a sweet revenge on her cheating husband.
The Kissing Game: Tired of always having her men stolen by her so called friend, a woman finally gets her just revenge.
Role Reversal: Two women get wicked revenge on their sexist boss. (Warning, this one is really wild!)
Books by C. C. Morian