First Time Gay, Crossdressing, BBC

First Time Gay, Crossdressing, BBC by married_but_curious,married_but_curious Author’s notes: This story contains hetero and gay sex, plus crossdressing and interracial love. Feel free to bail out now if any of that is not what you like.

It’s a complete rewrite of my most read story, “First Time With My Best Friend”, with over two million views between the three chapters. I read through all 250+ comments, and fixed problems pointed out in that constructive criticism. In particular, I completely rethought that awful original third chapter that so many commentators justifiably hated — in the rewrite the POV character remains a good friend, instead of acting like a reprehensible jerk.

I originally posted this rewrite in the Interracial Love category, because the plot and characters focus primarily on interracial relationships. But after mulling it over, I felt that I needed to repost it, under a different title in the Gay Male category, to reach the majority of its intended audience.

XXX

How did a married straight man like me wind up bent over a couch with my best friend grunting, grabbing my hips, and sliding his huge black cock painfully deep into my ass?

***

Ben and his wife, Janelle, first met me and my wife, Ciara, when they were contemplating buying a house in our upscale neighborhood. Well, upscale except for the dust and jackhammer noise and whatnot as construction workers finished building out the housing development. The realtor who had sold us our house asked us to let Ben and Janelle tour it, since it was the same two story model as the house under construction that were thinking about buying. They were concerned that in a upscale neighborhood like ours the only minorities might be the Latino construction crews building the place.

Our realtor overcame that objection without saying a word, by choosing a house to show them that was lived in by an ostensibly interracial couple. I tease my wife about identifying as black, despite loving Starbucks, Barry Manilow, and country music. We were the inverse of each other, couplewise. Ben was a handsome muscular black man, a former professional athlete who after he got ‘sports-old’ (aka mid-20s) and lost a step, switched to studying for the bar exam. He’d married a beautiful slender dark-eyed white woman. While I was what my bootylicious and deliciously curvy wife described as “nerdy hot”, a slim bookish looking artist with glasses and long dark brown hair tied in a ponytail.

The four of us hit it off immediately, chatting and laughing and touring our house. They viewed my colorful abstract paintings on the walls, which Janelle said made it look like a contemporary art museum. Our realtor hung back, happy to let us do her job.

Ben and Janelle signed the sales contract the next day, for the house diagonally across the street from us. Over the course of the next year Ben and I became best friends. OK, best MALE friends. Our wives were our best friends ever. Obviously.

***

Ben and I were hanging out on his black leather couch. We were drinking cold Shiner beer, and watching interracial blowjob porn he had streaming from his laptop to his 85″ TV. I was helping him do the faux bachelor thing since Janelle was on the second day of a four day business trip. In the course of a rambling discussion, we wound up debating how to spell ‘black’:

“So,” I said, “how do you feel about writers using ‘black’ with a small ‘b’ versus ‘Black’ with a capital ‘B’?

“First off, people can — usually — call their own ethnicity whatever the hell they want. I wanna refer to a bruddah as ‘niggah’, I can. But, what would happen if some white person wrote articles using capital-W ‘White’?”

“That’s racist as fuck. Lotta bad history behind that.”

“Sooo… how about a white person using capital-B ‘Black’ in writing?”

“Hmmm. Virtue signaling, oblivious to the flip side of the capital-W ‘White’ racial supremacist thing?”

Ben nodded, maybe ‘yes’, maybe ‘hey, look at that!’ The TV was showing a secretary kneeling on a wide-armed black leather couch, remarkably similar to the one we were sitting on. She was bent down, sucking off an improbably muscled black guy with almost no body fat and a surreally long dick. “Weird segue, but whattah ya think ’bout that scene?”

“Fucking hot.”

“Now THAT’s how you blow a guy,” Ben said. “I mean, deepthroat is fine for a change of pace. But the way she’s concentrating on the head, softly bobbing and using her tongue – so hot.”

“Day-ahm,” I said. “She’s got her back arched and her butt in the air. She’s making great eye contact. Lips covering her teeth and her tongue licking the frenulum – perfect.”

“There you go again, using big ol’ fiddy-cent words – the fuck is a frenulum?”

“The sensitive underside of the cockhead.”

“Coulda just said that.”

“Don’t hate on me ’cause I have a large vocabulary. Speaking of large… vocabularies… he’s got a really huge one.”

“Nah. Somewhat bigger than your median bruthuh, sure. Not nearly as big as mine, if you take into account width as well as length.”

“No fucking way. He’s gotta be, like, 98th percentile in size.”

Ben shrugged. “You’re using a lotta words to say you literally don’t know dick.” He pointed at the actress, who was gently kneading the guy’s balls. She was also rubbing his frenulum against the inside of her cheek, causing her cheek to bulge out sexily. “Hey, she kinda looks like you, you know?”

“You saying I look like a chick?”

“Slim, those glasses, long wavy dark hair? Swap out your Y chromosomes for X’s, that could be you. Take the compliment, for fuck’s sake.”

A long silence. “Uh… thanks?”

“And you’ve got her soft cocksucking lips, too. You’d be a natural.”

“Jesus, Ben. Your wife’s been gone all of two days, and you’re acting like you haven’t been laid in weeks.”

“Course I’m horny. Janelle and I fuck, what, two or three times a day?”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. How often do you and Ciara fuck?”

“Been four days. She’s been stressed from work, not in the mood.”

“You poor bastard.”

“I’m probably hornier than you right now.”

Ben raised his left eyebrow. “If we weren’t both happily married, I’d say we could both use a temporary side chick. Entirely theoretically speaking, of course. I love Janelle so much. I’d never cheat on her with another woman.”

“Umm… that sounds like an overly specific denial. Cheating with a woman — bad. Cheating with a gu–”

“What? No. Fuck’s sake, I’m not gay.” He looked at the screen, where the guy had his hand on top of the woman’s head. Shoving her deeper into his mouth, face fucking her, while his other hand leisurely spanked her firm butt. “Damn. Look at that. If I found myself with a guy who looked like her, offering to do that to me, I’d be tempted. Not that I would succumb.” He looked at me, overly speculatively.

“Oh, hell no. I’m not gay.”

“I wasn’t offering.” But he kept looking at me.

“Jesus. You need to go jack off already.”

“You know, you’re right.” He pushed off the couch and stood up.

Guess that’s my cue to give him some privacy.

I stood up too.

Ben stepped uncomfortably closer to me. “Theoretically speaking…”

“Yeah?”

“Would it be cheating if, instead of jacking themselves off, guys took turns jacking it for the other guy? Just masturbation either way, so the wives should be OK with it, yeah?”

I stared at him a moment, then burst out laughing. “You almost had me for a moment there, thought you were serious. Yeah, go run that logic by your wife – she’ll be, ‘of course, honey, go for it’.” I waited a moment. “Said no Janelle, ever.”

He grinned. “Yeah. Admit it – you totally bought that for a second.”

Time to tease him back.

“So, speaking entirely theoretically, how would they go about it? Deciding how to take turns?” I grabbed his hand and hovered it an inch away from my crotch, trying to make him super uncomfortable. Make him back down first. “Like, rock paper scissors? Whoever loses has to touch first?”

He stared into my eyes, like he was wondering how far to take it, to try to make me the bitch who caves first.

He put his hands on my shoulders. “The more feminine one – the one who wants it more – would go first.

He pushed down. “The one who looks like the chick in that video.”

Taken by surprise, my legs gave way, and I found myself on my knees looking up at him.

I thought, He pushed down pretty hard, right? So I didn’t choose to sink to my knees. Did I?

I tried to stand up, but he kept his hands on my shoulders, gently squeezing them. In a husky voice he said, “Take it out. Touch it.”

I looked into my best friend’s eyes. He was smiling, with this smirk like he was waiting for me to surrender. To admit I was a pussy, afraid to keep escalating the joke.

To ask – or worse yet, beg – for permission to quit kneeling before him. With that large bulge in his jeans at eye level.

Fuck it. I’ll make him flinch first. Make him the bitch.

I put my hand on the zipper of his jeans, not breaking eye contact. I slooowly pulled it down, waiting for him to concede by slapping my hand away. Undid the button above the zipper.

No objection. Nada.

He wasn’t wearing any underwear, or a belt either. When I finished undoing the button, his jeans dropped down and his semi-hard cock sprang free. It was already bigger than mine ever got, and growing. Most of the shaft was a dark brown umber, not quite black, with large veins showing under the skin. The circumcised head and the foreskin below his large mushroom was lighter, a reddish-brown. But the most memorable feature was how thick it was. As thick as my slim feminine-looking wrists.

“We’re gonna take turns, right?” I whispered. Not sure if we were still joking.

“Mmmm-hmmm,” he said, shoving his jeans down to his ankles. “Squeeze my cockhead. Run your other fingertips across my balls. Gently.”

“I shouldn’t,” I said. But my hands ignored my mental dithering and moved of their own accord, like it was just a dream.

Or perhaps I wanted to do this, and my mind was desperately trying to rationalize me touching his dick?

The skin was velvety soft and hot to my touch, with an underlying hard core. His cock stiffened in my hands and rose up, closer and closer to my face. Soon it was sticking straight up, almost touching my lips. Hard, it had to be seven and half, maybe eight inches long. Which by itself wouldn’t make it massive, but the incredible girth made it look huge.

How the hell did Janelle take that monster in her pussy?

“Fuuuck,” I whispered. “It’s so big. Like a horse’s cock.”

“You like it?”

“Oh, yeah.” I immediately regretted the enthusiasm in my voice. Jesus, I’m not gay. Why the hell did I just sound like an excited little bitch?

A drop of precum oozed out of the tip. “Go ahead,” Ben murmured. “Still your turn to do it.” His large rough hand caressed my cheek. “You know you want to, baby.”

Calling me ‘baby’? The fuck?

I shouldn’t, I thought, as my hand began sliding cautiously down his shaft. Then up again. Squeezing and twisting my hand around the head.

Ben groaned. “Oh yeah. Like that. Faster.” He put his other hand on the back of my head, his fingers wrapped around my ponytail. He caressed my scalp while lightly tugging on my hair. Sending jolts of pleasure deep into my head.

Ben pulling my hair made me feel weirdly submissive and turned on. My cock was stiffening in my pants. I felt like my cheeks must be blushing from my shameful arousal.

His hand then slid down to my neck and massaged it with strong hands.

“Uuuuhh,” I moaned, involuntarily.

“Feeling good, yeah?”

I answered by twisting my hand on his cockhead while my thumb rubbed around the rim and along the underside.

Ben groaned. “Fuck. Squeeze it, baby. Knead it.”

I felt his hand on my neck apply the barest of pressure downward. Or was that wishful thinking?

Is he really coaxing my face toward his cock? No. No. I shouldn’t, I thought, as my head slowly bent, my lips almost touching his cockhead. A drop of precum oozed out of his slit, glistening.

His hand kneaded my neck, then squeezed affectionately.

I’ll do it, I thought. Then it’ll be my turn to nudge my best friend’s head onto my cock. That’s fair, right?

God, I’m so fucking horny. I’d love to have my cock licked and sucked while I guide his head…

I kissed the tip of his cockhead, smearing precum on the center of my lips.

Ben made a strangling sound of pleasure.

I licked the slit as precum continued to slowly ooze out. It tasted salty and a bit bitter. Oddly similar to yeasty pancake batter, forever sullying pancakes for breakfast for me.

“Jesus,” Ben said. “Quit fucking teasing. Either stop, or take my cockhead between those big full lips.”

“It’s too thick. It won’t fit.” I belatedly realized this wasn’t a ‘no’.

“It’ll fit.” Ben pushed firmly on the back of my neck. This time there wasn’t any ambiguity about whether he was pushing.

I felt my lips parting as the dark reddish brown mushroom head pushed inside. My jaws opening wider and wider. Trying to not scratch the invading flesh with my teeth, covering them with my lips. The rim of his cockhead stretched my lips impossibly wide and finally popped inside my slutty mouth.

I looked up into my friend’s warm brown eyes, my mouth stuffed wide open with cock. Feeling panicky that he would try to stuff that thick black shaft into my throat and choke me. Could you asphyxiate and die from having something so big stuffed down your throat? I frantically wrapped both hands around his shaft so he couldn’t go any deeper.

“Good girl!” he said, stopping his descent inside me and gazing lovingly into my panicked eyes. “See, it fit. I’ll stop for now, let you get used to having my head inside you. Would it be weird if I called you Janelle, help me imagine she’s doing this?”

A straight guy voluntarily getting on his knees, letting a giant black cock get stuffed inside his mouth, and he thinks roleplaying by calling me his wife’s name would be the weird part?

“Mo,” I mumbled as best I could around the massive meat in my mouth. I pressed my lips tighter so I could swallow the spit mixed with a bit of precum that was threatening to drown me. “Thah naw uh whurr eng urhh. Eh ahhh ot uh aww uck uhr.” Translated from Blowjobese: ‘No. That’s not the weird thing here. And I’m not a cocksucker.’

Ben softly stroked my cheek with his hands, an amused look in his eyes. In a rumbly bedroom voice he said, “My wife’s got a cock in her mouth, which she’s sucking, but she’s not a cocksucker?”

I decided not to argue the point.

“Lick it with your tongue, Janelle. Slide it around the underside.”

It occurred to me that I should try to make my husb – uh, I mean my friend – cum as quickly as possible. Get it over with so I could have my turn.

So I complied enthusiastically, licking and sucking and squeezing the top of his shaft with my lips. My tongue flicking over his frenulum and his pee slit. I bobbed my head in short strokes so his cockhead would slid halfway out and then be fully engulfed again. Imitating everything my wife lovingly did for me when she gave me head, striving to make me feel incredibly good.

“Ahhhh, yesss, that’s a good wife.”

I felt a warm glow from the praise. And I was rock hard in my pants, turned on by the surreal stretching of my lips around all that cock. Plus, the taste of his precum was growing on me. And the rubbery smooth texture of his cockhead skin, a thin layer of softness over a wondrously hard core.

I admitted to myself I was enjoying the perverse forbidden-ness of being on my knees, sucking off my best friend. Enjoying trying my best to make him cum. Being called his wife’s name, being called a good girl.

In that moment, I embraced and loved being his wife. Being a cocksucker in the best sense of the word. Trying to give my man pleasure and make him cum in my mouth. Even though I suspected the upcoming post-nut clarity might be a rude bitch. But that was a problem for future Bojack Cocksucker to deal with.

“Ah uv muh uuhs buhuhnd!”

He looked at me with soft adoring eyes, like I’d seen him give Janelle so many times in the past. “I love you too, Janelle. You’re being such a good wife.” Ben grabbed my ponytail, and pushed down firmly. “Can you take some of my shaft, baby? Make your husband feel sooo good?”

I took a hand off his shaft and began gently kneading his large balls, smooth shaven and almost coal black with a trace of dark brown. Leaving the other hand as a backstop to keep him from sinking all the way inside my mouth and throat. I willingly took his big black cock, looking into his lustful eyes as that frighteningly thick shaft slowly sunk deeper into my mouth. Trusting that he wouldn’t choke me to death with that horse cock. That he’d had plenty of previous experience doing this to all the women he must have attracted. Women turned on by his muscular body and deep sexy voice, and of course that massive black cock. Heaps of women who were happy to take his dick into their mouth or pussy, and possibly some into their ass.

I gagged as his cock hit the entrance to my throat, perhaps half his shaft inside my hot wet mouth. I pushed my hands against his thick hard thighs. I breathed in the sexy musky scent wafting off his trimmed public hairs. God, he smells really good, a more manly musky version of the incredible fragrance my wife’s pussy gave off. A perfume full of an exotic wonderful mix of phermones and other scents that I had fallen in love with the first time I had licked her pussy.

I had a moment of panic as I belatedly realized the danger of taking my hands off his shaft, so I could push against his hard thigh muscles. A symbolic gesture, ‘stop’, that he could easily overpower with his strong athletic body. I couldn’t prevent him from jamming himself all the way inside me. That he might even misread my pushing against his thighs as me wanting to feel and squeeze his powerful muscles. That he might think I was giving consent to shove himself in all the way, instead of trying to halt any deeper entry inside my aching mouth.

“Sorry,” he said. “Too deep?”

“Mmmm!” I said, tears running down my cheek, though not in a bad way, just an involuntary reflex of my body.

He slid all the way out of my mouth.

I gasped for breath. “It’s OK. I want to make my husband cum. Just… not so deep.”

“Sure, baby,” he said. “I’ll be gentle.” He began pushing just his cockhead into and out of my mouth, slowly facefucking me.

I licked and sucked, and flicked my tongue and wrapped my lips lovingly over his cockhead as it thrust into me. My hands were lubricated by my spit and twisting around his shaft, as he thrust faster now. He groaned and grunted and pushed his hips at me. Gripping the back of my head with one hand to push inside. Pulling my hair each time he pulled out so just the tip was inside.

His balls tightened, and he grimaced and said, “I’m gonna cum!”

“Mmmm!”

“Do you want your husband’s cum?”

He pulled out for a moment. I gasped for air and said, “Yes! Cum for me, Ben.”

He jammed his cockhead back in. “Can I cum in your mouth, baby?”

I nodded ‘yes’.

“Do you want this big black cock to shove past your fat cocksucking lips and into your slutty mouth, filling it with dick? Do you want to be a good girl and take my load?”

“Mmmmhh!” I mumbled, nodding my head ‘yes’.

He gave me a bit of shaft, just enough to pin me submissively in place, and stopped thrusting. “Oh god. Oh fuuuuck. Here it cums. Uhh, uhhh, arrrrgggghhh!”

I felt my mouth take his hot tasty cum, spurt after spurt, wanting it. Wanting him to give me the gift of his lust. Unlike the unrealistic depictions in smutty stories I’ve read, he didn’t fill my mouth to overflowing. Though he did have an impressive load from just two days without his wife to give him relief.

“Can you swallow for me, Janelle? Can you do that for your husband?”

Thanks for reading pls vote or comment I couldn’t reply with a load of hot sticky yeasty cum in my mouth. I looked up into his almost pleading expression, wanting so bad for his wife to take a piece of him inside her body. He tilted my chin up so he could watch my throat bob several times as I swallowed his cum, his huge dark cock still gratifyingly stiff in my mouth.

And had the fleeting thought that I was now literally a cocksucker. Only once though, and my best friend at that. A tiny amount of plausible deniability about me still being straight-ish, despite me roleplaying being his wife.

I pushed aside the worry about how our wives might react if they found out. Presumably, react badly, putting divorce lawyers on speed dial and whatnot. I was still horny as fuck, so no post-nut clarity. Yet.

And it was now my turn…

Ben was breathing hard, catching his breath as he gently stroked my hair. “You liked that, baby?” he said in a rumbly bedroom voice that made my heart pound faster.

I inhaled more of the intoxicating musky aroma wafting off his pubes, and wrapped my lips tight around his shaft as his eyes widened. I pulled off, milking the last of the cum out of his shaft in the process. Swallowed it. Savoring the taste, and the warm glow from pleasing my man. From the dirty naughty feeling of breaking taboos. Getting on my knees and offering my mouth for him to use, to give him the gift of his orgasm.

“Yeah. Surprisingly hot.” I slowly licked my lips, teasing him, my eyes slitted with amusement. His dark massive prick was still half-erect. It twitched up at the sight of my tongue sliding suggestively over my plump cocksucking lips. “Sooo… my turn, right?”

His eyes narrowed. Thinking about it…

Oh, fuck. Is he going to renege? And is the word ‘renege’ mildly racist? And how can you renege if you haven’t ‘neged’ first?

It occurred to me that my wife’s frequent assertions that I was a massive nerd was spot on.

Ben pulled up his pants and zipped up, presumably so he could walk without shuffling along with his pants around his ankles like an idiot. Then he held out his right hand, palm up, his palm a much paler brown than the dark brown cocoa color of the rest of his skin. “Sure. Come here. I’ll take care of you, baby.”

‘Baby’?

I took his hand, and he led me to the side table next to his black leather couch. Took out a small bottle of lube from the drawer there. Then he tugged me to the other side of the couch, facing away from the wide flat armrest.

The fuck? “Don’t you owe me a blowjob?” I put a hand on his shoulder. Tried pushing gently downward.

It was like pushing on a mountain. Not submitting in the slightest to that suggestion.

“Naw. The agreement was for us to get off by touching each other.”

“But, you put your hand on the back of my he-”

“I was just rubbing your hair affectionately.”

“You pushed me onto your-”

“You put your mouth on my dick, not me. And you liked it, however much you might try to rationalize that choice.”

Hunh. I… I guess I did.

“Trust me. I’m gonna make you feel reeaaall good. Just do what I say, okay?” He clicked the lid open on the lube one-handed, closing my attempts at negotiation. Assuming the sale.

I thought it over. “You’re right. I trust you. You’re my best friend.”

“I sure the fuck am. And you’re my best niggah too.”

I relaxed in the warm glow of our bro moment together, and the honorary promotion to Best N-word. Being married to a black woman had made me acutely aware that he could use that word as a high compliment, but it would come off as offensive or at least massively disrespectful if I were to cross that verbal line in the sand.

“Turn around,” Ben said.

Uhhh… whaat? Is he goi-

He grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around, so I was facing the armrest on his leather couch, perhaps two feet away from it. “Do. You. Trust. Me?”

“Uhh… yes?”

“Then do what I say, without a bunch of backtalk, and I’ll make you cum really hard.”

I turned my head to look in his dark heavy-lidded bedroom eyes and gave him a semi-sarcastic one finger salute. Using the middle finger. “OK, boss.”

He ignored that insolence and in one smooth, obviously well-practiced motion, he yanked my jeans and underwear down to my ankles. “Take ’em off, Janelle.”

Still doing the role-playing? OK.

“Yes, daddy,” I said in a squeaky little girl’s voice. Ironically. Just a trace of sarcasm in my voice this time, but I complied, kicking off my shoes. Leaving me naked from the waist down.

He grinned and swatted my butt.

“Ow! The fuck?”

“Husband. Not daddy. The swat was for the insubordinate tone.”

“OK.” Meekly.

“Now spread your legs.”

I spread them a tiny bit apart, then glanced over my shoulder. He’d pulled his pants and shoes off, half-naked, and his big black cock was hard again.

Wait, I thought, how is this MY turn?

“Bend over and spread your legs apart more.”

I complied, apprehensively. Bending over and putting my forearms against the cool, two foot wide expanse of leather on the couch’s arm. I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see what came next. Somehow that made it easier to submit to my… husband. I realized to my surprise I wanted to be a good wife for him, give him whatever he needed. So long as he fulfilled his end of the deal and made me cum.

I can’t believe I’m bending over and spreading my legs for my best friend. I’m straight, for fuck’s sake. Is he gonna try stuffing that huge cock in my butt? How’s that remotely my turn?

But my cock was stiffening, and I felt a delicious jolt of electricity in my head. I was a bit scared, and a whole lot turned on.

I heard a squirting sound. Ben reached around and gripped my shaft and began wetly stroking, slowly rubbing lube in, teasing me by stopping short of my aching cockhead.

I moaned, my eyes still closed. “Fuuuck. Yes!” I was fully erect in seconds. I spread my legs bit wider, signaling my submission to letting him pleasure me however he chose.

I felt him drip lube between my cheeks, then a finger lightly rubbed the slippery liquid into the cleft.

“Does it feel good, baby? Or do you want me to stop giving you your turn?”

“Please don’t stop. It feels so good. Ahhh!” I clenched my arsehole as his finger lightly rubbed circles around it, then tapped the center.

“You’re sure?” It was more of a dry amused statement than a question. Especially as I wriggled my hips as his finger stopped circling my hole, and began rubbing up and down between my cheeks. Teasing me by skipping over my puckered opening each time. I thrust my hips at him and wiggled, trying to get his finger back on target.

He touched my sensitive hole again, holding that hand still. Applying pressure. His other hand stroked my shaft, enveloped my cockhead. Expertly twisted back and forth around it. The feel of someone else’s hand, rougher and stronger, and the exotic changes in technique made it so much better than the well-worn predictability when I did it myself.

“Ahhh! Oh my fucking god! Don’t stop!”

“Soooo… you kinda like it?” He chuckled.

I instinctively arched my back, raising my butt up more, and leaned my head back. Presenting. Ready.

“I’ll take that as a yes, Janelle. Ready for me to make my wife feel really good?”

“Mmmmm,” I growled.

Ben took his hand off my cockhead and grabbed my ponytail. He pulled my hair back, his hand slipping a bit then catching as the lube rubbed off into my hair. Dominating me while his finger pushed against my hole.

“Has my wife ever been fingerfucked?”

“Nnnn- nhhh.”

“Wanna try it?”

“Please!”

He slid his well-lubed finger all the way inside me, his knuckles pushing against my ass as he bottomed out.

“Fuuuckkk!” I clenched my hole several times, urging him on. He pulled almost all the way out, leaving me feeling empty. Wanting.

Wow. Who knew this would feel so g-

I gurgled and growled and bucked my hips as his finger hit my prostate.

“Ahhh! Aaaaahhhh! There!”

“Want me to stop fingerfucking you, baby?” he said in a amused tone as I thrust back at him.

“Don’t fucking stop!”

He slid a second finger inside, making me uncomfortably full. But making me feel reallly good and oh so horny at the same time. The discomfort oddly enough intensifying the pleasure.

“Jesus! Who knew?” I gasped as he jammed both fingers in all the way. He resumed fingerfucking while my arsehole spasmed and gripped him.

“You’re a natural at his, baby. Such a good slutty wife.” He pushed a third finger in. I cried out in pain and from the wildly uncomfortable fullness. The first finger had been amazing, but this last finger massively ramped up the alien fullness and sharp pain.

“Too many fingers?”

“Just… slow. Take it slow.”

” ‘K.” He hit my prostate again and slowly rubbed it, driving me crazy. Making the pain and pressure not quite go away. But, overwhelmed by the jolt of pleasure, the endorphins surged through my head as he fingerfucked his slutty, dirty wife.

“Don’t stop! Please. Please. Yess! There!”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Oh god, yes. Be a good husband and keep doing that. I’m so close to cumming, baby.”

Ben did the opposite, sliding his fingers out of me. Leaving me with an aching void, an overwhelming need for that lost intimacy.

“Hey, uhhh.,. please,” I begged. “Please!”

Ben unbuttoned my shirt, and I let him take it off. Looking over my shoulder, I watched him pull his black Calvin Klein T-shirt off, exposing the torso of a minor god. He had no perceptible body fat, a six pack of ab muscles. A powerful broad chest with a light fuzz of tightly curled black hairs, large pecs and powerful thick arm muscles. All covered with that sexy skin, coffee colored with a touch of cream. He could easily have been a underwear model. Or a sculpture by Michelangelo, with the weird albino-ness of the white marble coupled with his African features.

Ben scooted forward and laid his muscular body on top of mine. His taut belly against my lower back, his firm pecs heating my shoulder blades. His skin radiating the heat of an athlete whose muscles ripped through calories. His erection pressed between the curves of my butt cheeks. He whispered in my ear, “You want your husband back inside?”

“You gonna make me cum?”

“So fucking hard.”

“It sure is.”

He wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a tight hug, and kissed my neck. Our skins were starting to sweat from the combined heat of our bodies. It felt so comforting to be in his strong embrace, and so sexy as his hard prick slowly wiggled between the valley of my buns.

“Ready?”

“Oh, god, yes.”

He kissed my earlobe, his breath hot inside my ear, then kissed my cheek right at the corner of my mouth. I was so tempted to turn my head and kiss him on the lips. But weirdly, I was inhibited about that level of intimacy. It’s one thing to have your best friend cum in your mouth and coax you into swallowing his sperm. Or to fingerfuck you to the edge of an orgasm. Or roleplay you’re his wife. But kissing on the lips, having his tongue caress mine? That would feel like surrendering any plausible deniability about still being straight.

And yet it was so tempting to fully act as his wife. Let him take my masculinity, embrace my femininity. Just turn my head a few inches and give myself to him utterly. God help me, I wanted to.

I waited too long. His lips kissed around to the back of my neck, down my spine to between my shoulder blades, giving me shivers of delight. Then what felt like his entire fist pressed against my hole. Except it was softness covering an inner hardness.

“Are you trying to fuck me?”

“You said you want me back inside you, baby.”

“You’re too big! You’ll split me open me with that thick horse cock.”

Dammit. Is it so hard to say ‘no’, instead of a de facto ‘talk me into it, please’?

“Please, Janelle. I’ve never fucked anyone’s ass before. I want to try it. But you’ve always said no.” He rubbed his cock up and down my cleft, bumping over my arsehole each time.

I moaned.

“Feels good, doesn’t it baby?”

“Yeah, but… it’ll hurt.”

Wait… did I just sorta say ‘yes’?

Ben apparently thought he’d heard my consent, as he nibbled back up to my neck and grasped my left hip possessively. He gently touched my wrist with his right hand, then slid his palm against mine. I felt a rush of pleasure at the tenderness of holding hands like that, another surprisingly erotic and intimate gesture. Then he guided my hand behind me and placed it on his hot stiff shaft.

“Place it on your hole. Guide me in. Show me you want it too.”

I thought about saying ‘no’, even as my hand scoffingly ignored that debate and rubbed his cockhead against my puckered entrance. Getting him ready to enter.

“Be the best wife ever and let me try. Just the tip at first. I’ll be gentle.”

OK, I thought.

“I want your explicit consent,” Ben said. “Say ‘please’.”

I keep forgetting he’s becoming a lawyer, and trained to observe the legal niceties.

He applied a bit of pressure, leaning his tip against my tight hole. But still waiting for a ‘please’.

Oh god, it’ll never fit. He’ll wreck me.

I bit my lower lip then said in a small voice, “Please. Fuck your wife’s ass. I want to give you my virginity.”

“Such a good wife,” he said, immediately pressing hard against my virgin hole.

I tried to relax, push out like I was taking a shit, like I’d read about. To my surprise, I felt an uncomfortable pressure, but no pain, as he pushed against my slowly yielding hole. “Is the tip in yet?”

“No,” he murmured. “You’re so damn tight. My cock is bending, trying to get inside you. Kinda hurts.” He suddenly grabbed my ponytail and yanked back while thrusting his hips hard.

“Uhhh… uhhh… ohmygod… OW! FUUUCKK!” I felt a blinding pain. Literally blinding, as I screwed my eyes tightly shut as he penetrated.

“It’ll hurt at first, baby. You’re so fucking tight.”

I panted as tears welled out. Panting and gasping for air, I said, “How far in are you? An inch?”

“Just the tip. Barely.”

“WHAT?”

He yanked harder on my hair, forcing me onto his cock, then spanked my ass hard with his spare hand. Surprised, I yelped, and my hole loosened as, distracted, I shifted attention to my stinging cheek.

His cockhead popped inside, his mushroom head fully enveloped in my burning flesh.

“Owww! It hurts so much! Take it out!”

He pulled out. And immediately plunged back inside, a bit deeper, a bit of the shaft inside this time.

“I thought you were gonna be gentle!”

“This IS gentle. Barely inside you.”

I opened my mouth to scream out my pain, but Ben put his hand on my cheek and turned my head.

And kissed me. A surprisingly tender kiss, given the rough treatment he was inflicting elsewhere.

I kissed back, desperate for some pleasure to distract me from the pain. It worked. Barely.

His tongue slipped inside, gently fucking my mouth. I surrendered to this fresh invasion, and let him slowly fuck my ass, a little deeper with each thrust. My tongue flickered over his as I groaned my pain into his mouth. Moaned from the pleasure and intimacy of the kiss. I opened my eyes and stared into his loving soft brown eyes. His eyelids were heavy with the pleasure he was gaining from taking my anal virginity.

And so I took all the pain for him, because I knew I was giving him so much pleasure. Loving my best friend, giving him everything he wanted, made the pain tolerable.

“How far in?” I gasped.

“Almost there. Almost to your prostate. Hold on a little longer, baby, and then it’ll feel so good.”

Tears streaming down my face, I took the pain, and kissed him, my tongue sliding over his full dark lips. Yielding as he pushed his tongue in deeper, mouthfucking his wife. Giving her – me – the intimacy and joy I needed to endure the wait. Trusting him to give me the compensating pleasure soon.

He thrust deeper, his huge cock stretching me more than I’d have thought possible — and then the tip touched my prostate.

An explosion of pleasure shot through my head, making my knees weak, causing his thrusts to push my face down and my ass up. My hands braced on the cool black leather couch seat. I tried to rise back up, but a strong arm pushed down hard between my shoulder blades. So I accepted this incredibly submissive position. Moaned and bucked and loudly screamed out my pleasure, the pain from my stretched out ass still there. But who gives a fuck when you’re getting fucked so well?

“Ohhh, myfuckinggod it feels soo good!”

“Yeah, baby. Take my thick black cock. Giving it all to you.”

A cascade of endorphins flooded my head and my body, a gift from my faux husband. His gigantic black cock rubbing that lovely spot inside me. Giving me those wonderful drugs, being my pusher, being his addict. I felt so much love for him in that moment. I knew it was the natural drugs talking, but the fireworks of pleasure were real, and suddenly he was ten times more handsome and attractive. The way my wife Ciara had become the most beautiful woman in the world to me, one dose of lovely chemicals at a time. Ten times more beautiful in those moments, and permanently leveling up in desirability each time. A small incremental ratcheting up of the love I felt for her over time. And not just the hundreds of couplings, but countless tens of thousands of beautiful moments of bliss and caresses and small considerate gestures. Bonding us together until I couldn’t imagine a life without her.

Nature’s wicked little plan to coerce us into reproducing, bribing us with drugs. Causing that momentarily recklessness that allowed risking emptying yourself into her body. And her accepting the DNA, the sperm blindly trying to beat impossible odds, the odds against being the one sperm in a trillion to start a new life.

And in the back of my mind I knew that I was a huge fucking nerd, thinking about philosophy while being assfucked by a big black cock. And knowing the consequences of our recklessness could be an incredible bitch.

And that all this rubbish was a problem for future Assfucked Bojack to deal with, as my mind started losing coherent thought… “I’m gonna cum!” I yelled at Ben.

He kept making shallow thrusts inside my ass, thoughtfully stopping perhaps halfway inside me at my prostate. Instead of trying to jam that enormous prick all the way inside, balls deep. “Gonna fuck the cum outta you, baby.”

And soon I spurted my pleasure, shooting rope after rope of cum into the black leather underneath me. My ass clenching on his shaft with each pulse. The rhythmic contractions on his shaft pushing him to the brink of his second orgasm in the last hour.

Ben made a strangled loud grunting noise. Pounding into my ass, spanking me hard, yanking on my hair. All while talking dirty, calling me his slut and whore and little bitch. But then soothing the sting of that by calling me a good girl, the best wife ever for acquiescing to being finally assfucked.

His roughness felt fucking amazing. I was loving the submissiveness of being bent over a couch arm, pinned down with my face pushed into a couch cushion. My ass up, legs splayed wide open, being prone boned and treated like his fuck doll. Loving how I was making him lose control like that, his primal animal side emerging. I floated on a sea of endorphins and other lovely chemicals. Not giving a fuck about the pain, or the marks it might leave that could be a bitch to explain… later.

“Fuck fuck fuuuucck, take it, aaaah, here it cums!” His body went rigid against mine and he stopped thrusting, his cockhead pressing against my prostate. I felt spurts of hot cum flooding inside me. He emptied himself inside me, gave me his load. Claiming me as his slutty fucktoy wife.

When he was finished, he lay heavily upon me. Crushing me onto the sweaty and cum-sullied arm of the couch as he panted for oxygen. Spent and floating on a subsiding sea of endorphins.

Thanks for reading pls vote or comment I lay there, enjoying his weight holding me down. A primal feeling of heaviness and bonding, his cock slowly growing soft until it slipped out of my hole. His cum oozing out of my sore ass and traveling down my leg, the sperm there waaaay off target.

Eventually he lifted his body off mine. Pulling me upright and turning me to face him — perhaps turning me in more ways than one — an adoring look in his eyes. “Hey. You my hot sexy best niggah.”

I gave him a pleading look, wanting to reciprocate his emotion, say it out loud, but knowing it was against all the rules. “You know I can’t say –”

He said, softly, “You got a one time pass to say it. The ‘Loving Wife Letting Her Husband Fuck Her Ass For The First Time’ pass.”

I put my arms around his neck. Leaned a little closer. Inviting a tender kiss.

He gave me that lovely kiss, a soft touch of his sexy dark pillowy lips against my pinkish tan full lips. He looked me in the eyes, the lines around his eyes wickedly crinkling. “You’ve got such beautiful cocksucking lips, baby.”

I couldn’t really take umbrage at this odd term of endearment, considering that it was literally true. “You my handsome sexy best niggah, too.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

I looked down at his cock, my arms still draped around his neck. “Seemed really fucking hard to me, as you rammed it into me.”

He gave my buttocks an affectionate slap, perhaps a bit more vigorously than strictly necessary. But not even in the top ten of the hardest swats he’d given quite recently in the throes of passion. “Come by tomorrow. I’ll have a surprise for you.”

I nodded ambiguously, not sure of how my evening with Ciara was gonna play out. “I gotta ask: you having any post-nut remorse?”

He thought about it for a half second. “Naw. You?”

“Some of the hottest sex in my life, versus possibly totally tanking my marriage?”

“Can’t tank it unless you’re a fucking idiot and tell Ciara. So. Don’t be THAT guy.”

” ‘Cept I don’t lie to Ciara about anything if she asks me a direct question. Ever. Sometimes I’ll ask her if she really wants to hear the answer, because she knows I’ll tell her in blunt language about the effects of men ‘enjoying’ massive testosterone poisoning.”

“Telling the truth no matter what? You’d make a terrible defense attorney.”

“Uhhh… thanks??”

“As your lawyer, I advise you to silently invoke your Fifth Amendment right to Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

“My lawyer? The fuck’s your hourly rate?”

Ben slowly, sensually, slid his thumb across my lips, then pushed the tip inside. “I’ll take it out in trade.”

***

After dinner that night, Ciara asked, “Whatta you want to do tonight?”

“Alexa,” I said to The Little Lady In The Black Box — my pet name for the spyware package for the NSA that Ciara had actually paid money for. Instead of it being involuntarily installed, via court order, to monitor everything we say due to my treasonous attitude. The Bezos carveout to the First and arguably Third amendment. “Play R and B from 2006.” The Little Lady started playing Beyonce’s “Irreplaceable”, an upbeat song about a woman ordering a cheating guy to pack up his stuff and get the hell outta her house:

“To the left, to the left”

I swept Ciara into my arms and started dancing with her. She giggled and took the lead, since I was a hopelessly inept dancer.

“Everything you own in the box to the left”

I had a brief moment of paranoia, thinking Ben’s Alexa had talked to mine. And I was getting an ominously unsubtle warning about potential blackmail. Meanwhile I kissed my wife, a light touch to her sexy dark pillowy lips. She kissed me back, her tongue sliding into my mouth. It belatedly occurred to me that, despite having eaten pepperoni pizza at our dinner, she might taste Ben’s residual cum in my mouth.

Nah.

“In the closet, that’s my stuff, yes if I bought it niggah, please don’t touch”

I covered my weird paranoias by pressing my body into Ciara’s luscious curves, my growing stiffness poking into the vicinity of her belly button.

She broke the kiss so she could growl into my ear with that irresistibly beautiful voice like an angel that I could listen to, enchanted, all day. “Mmmmmmmhhhh, what’s got into you?”

My best friend’s dick, in my mouth and ass, I thought. But since it was a rhetorical question not requiring a response, I deflected by vigorously steering our dance into our master bedroom.

Ciara laughed and put up some token resistance several feet from our Cal King bed, when my intent became abundantly clear. But I kept shoving her forward. Mustering all my strength — her big tits and gigantic sexy booty and thick curves made for a heavy body — I swept her up and flung her on the bed.

She gave a delighted squeal, loving my forcefulness. Bounced once on the soft memory foam as she landed on her back in the middle of the mattress. I grabbed her ankles and hauled Ciara toward me as she made these gasping porn star noises. I stopped when her ankles were on my shoulders and her butt was at the edge of the bed.

“No,” she said, her gleaming excited brown eyes saying ‘yes, please!’

I leaned forward, bending her legs forward in the process so she was bent almost double. Her upper thighs pressed against her belly and chest.

And kissed her, forcefully.

Ciara broke the kiss and said, playfully, “Stop! These are clean sheets. Don’t sully them.” She undercut that objection by wrapping her arms around my back and kissing me hard, tonguefucking my mouth.

We kissed a long time as I slowly ground my erection against the heavenly intersection of her thick thighs. “Gonna sully the fuck outta you,” I eventually growled. “But first…” I broke free from her embrace, tossed a pillow on the floor. Yanked her shorts and panties off in a single practiced tug downward.

“No,” Ciara said, her smoky bedroom voice saying ‘Ohmygodyes!’, as I kneeled before her. “Please don’t. You know I –”

The token resistance she loved to put up, damn near every time I was amorous, got cut short as I slid my tongue up her wet slit. It touched her button, and she lost the capacity for words. Making sexy panting squealing noises, the kind no porn star can fake no matter how talented they were.

I inhaled a deep breath and said, “Ohmyfuckinggod, yourpussy smellssooooogoooood,”

Beyonce’s lovely voice drifting in from the other room, wrapping up the song, warned me, “Don’t you ever for a second get to thinking, you’re irreplaceable!”

Duly noted, Beyonce, I thought, my face buried in the incredible scent of the best black pussy I’ve ever tasted. And I licked a lot of really amazing black pussy, prior to meeting Ciara. Then putting a ring on her finger as I fell hopelessly in love with her. All of those dates Ciara knew about, in oftentimes disconcertingly graphic detail. Until she learned to heed my warnings, that she might not want to hear the answers to some of her oftentimes wildly intrusive questions.

All these aspie ruminations were running through my head as I brought my wife to a loud orgasm. Then another and another, a series of breaking waves of her cumming. Until my lips were chafed from her neatly trimmed and tightly curled black pubic hair. My face smeared with the amazingly scented juices from her arousal.

Finally she gently tugged me upwards, then scooted back toward the center of the bed. “I’m ready. Fuck the hell out of me, James. Fuck your beautiful wife.”

I tore off my clothes and flung them wherever in my haste. She unbuttoned her shirt and unhooked her bra. Her large beautiful breasts were a lighter brown than her skin exposed to the sun They had big dark areolas, and even darker erect nipples.

I climbed in between her soft thighs as she spread them wide open for me. Kissed her tenderly, letting her taste her own pussy as our tongues danced together. I rubbed my stiff shaft against her wetness below, silently asking for consent. She reached down and guided me in. I gazed into her gorgeous dark brown heavy-lidded eyes, that were looking back at me with so much love and fulfilled lust. I slid balls deep into her with one hard thrust, reveling in her delighted gasp in response. My moderately long dick kissed her cervix as I bottomed out, our bodies a perfect fit for each other. My lean hard lightly tanned body contrasted beautifully with her incredibly soft darker skin, and voluptuous feminine curves.

She wrapped her arms and legs around my torso, hugging me tight as I fucked the hell outta her. The incredible musky dark scent of her pussy filled my breaths. The pussy juice smeared all over my face slowly, tantalizingly, evaporated and wafted into the air.

“You my boo,” she said in between gasps as I plunged all the way inside her and withdrew, over and over. Picking up the pace as my orgasm grew closer.

“You my sexy beautiful bae.”

“Is my body too big for you?” Her weird weight insecurity popping up randomly once again, despite my obvious arousal and sincere compliments.

It briefly occurred to me that I was a gotdamn fool, risking losing my perfect mate by allowing myself to be seduced and fucked by Ben.

“You’re perfect,” I said between gasps for air, still fucking her like a madman. “I love your big breasts,” I reassured her while propping my body weight on one arm. I reassuringly caressed and kneaded her breasts with my free arm.

“Is my tummy too big?”

“Oh, hell no!” I deployed the risky gambit of squeezing her belly curves, then preemptively pulled out and manhandled her onto the aforesaid sexy belly. Getting her ready for our favorite position, prone bone. Where she could be completely submissive, letting my strong body pin her down reassuringly. Be owned. Be loved. Be mine.

I planted a bazillion quick kisses all over her huge sexy brown booty while squeezing it and lightly spanking it with both hands. Her buns hid powerful muscles under a generous layer of padding that turned me on so much as it jiggled and bounced. No skinny-ass blondes for me — I knew what I liked, and it was Ciara — Spanish for “little dark one” — even if she didn’t like her body nearly as much as I did. “And I love love love your huge sexy brown booty.” Another risky gambit with a thick woman — deploying the H-word, ‘huge’. But I was straddling her hips as I said it, and poking my stiff cock into the cleft between her sexy thick buns. Rubbing along the bottom as I sought her dark wet labia. It seemed clear from the context that ‘huge’ was a compliment.

“Wrong hole,” she squeaked as I attempted entry.

“Sorry. Missed.” I moved my cockhead a little further down and found her soaking wet cunt — the C-word being another word that could be a massive compliment or an insult, depending on context — and pushed inside her silky slick wetness.

“Aaaaaaaahhhh! Oooohhh, so gooood! Mmmmrrrggghh!” I growled instinctively with what Ciara called my grizzly bear voice. A reference to my being reduced to deep primal noises during the leadup to cumming. And how in the dating profile that led to our first meeting I said I was “smarter than the average bear.” That made her laugh, and won me our first date.

By now I had my whole body laying on top of her, pressing her into the mattress as she made sexy squeaking noises and panting gasps for air. I pounded into her pussy several inches. In this position with her big buns, that was about as deep as I could get into her pussy. Most of my cock was slipping and sliding between the thickness of her globes, sort of like tit fucking but with her booty instead of breasts.

I pounded into my wife’s yielding, nicely padded body, my orgasm climbing closer and closer. Both of us were making lots of fuck noises as we wordlessly moaned and groaned and shared our bodies. Her giving herself to me utterly, me taking her, loving her so much for this slippery endorphin-inducing gift.

I felt my orgasm becoming imminent. I suddenly wanted to finish in our second favorite position. So I pulled out and stood up near the edge of the bed. I dragged Ciara by the ankles, squeaking and faux protesting, until her knees were at the edge of the mattress. Then I grabbed her deliciously padded hips and pulled them upright, my wife’s head still submissively laying on the comforter, and roughly spread her legs apart.

“Turn your head and look at me with those gorgeous eyes,” I said.

She silently complied, an excited look on her face. She reaaally loves it when I drag her around in bed and make her lush ripeness available for fucking however I want.

I slapped my stiff prick against her buns a few times, then resisted the urge to shove it inside and cum right away. I teased her by rubbing the tip up and down her deep sexy valley, my cockhead bumping over her clit and arsehole. Like I was deciding whether to fuck her ass or pussy.

“Hey!” she said, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Whaaaat?” I replied, all faux innocence.

“You know.”

“Oh, you mean you finally want anal? ‘K.” I gave her a big fake grin.

Her eyes went wide open – I could see the whites of her eyes all the way around her irises. She held that ‘Fuck Around And Find Out’ look, daring me to be stupid or crazy enough to do something so verboten.

I pursed my lips in a grin. “Mmmmh. I think I wanna fuck your tight cunt this time. Save your anal virginity for, oh, Wednesday.” Acting as if I had any say in the matter.

Her eyes narrowed and she stuck out her tongue and raspberried me. “Ppppppthhbbb.”

I gave her ass a symbolic retaliatory swat. “Ooooh. Your buns jiggle nicely when I do that.

“Cut it out, buster, or –” She squeaked as I suddenly shoved my stiffness balls deep. Spanked her other cheek, just hard enough to give her a tiny sting and establish my dominance.

In bed. Not so much elsewhere.

She opened her mouth as if to rebuke me, but all that came out were high pitched squeaks as I started fucking her hard. I reached down and squeezed a big breast with one hand. The other hand doing the same to her medium brown buns and then her darker thick thighs, tanned a rich dark chocolate color from the sun. Her ripeness, her voluptuousness felt so fucking perfect to be feeling up.

“Mine,” I said, in between gasps for air. “You’re all mine!” I pounded her pussy hard, her booty jiggling so sexily with each impact that I felt my orgasm approaching like a runaway train. I let go of her breast and butt so I could grab her lusciously padded hips with both hands, reveling in the sweet padding as I jackhammered into her soaking wet tightness.

Her squeaking noises rose to a higher and higher pitch, and that sound of her desire and wanting slipped me over the point of no return.

“I’m gonna cum!”

“Gimme your cum, baby! Put a baby in me!”

Startled, I briefly wondered if that was her roleplaying, saying stuff to turn me on. Or if she really had gone off her birth control without bothering to tell me in advance. But then my mind went all primal and I recklessly wanted to do what she’d said she wanted. Spill my seed deep inside her and give her a baby, fuck the consequences.

“Can I cum in your hot wet cunt, baby?”

“Please! Give me your cum!”

“You want my sperm for a baby?”

“Shut up and cum in me!”

And I felt my cum racing out of my balls. My voice reduced to grunts and moans and other wordless primal sounds as I shoved my body against her hips as hard as I could. Getting as deep inside her well fucked cunt as possible, then I held still all the way inside.

Ciara gave a long high pitched wail. Looking at me with her beautiful heavy-lidded eyes, half closed with lust. Her long dark lashes framing her brown irises full of lust and love and trust. Wanting me. Needing me. Knowing that underneath she was inexplicably insecure. As if I was some damn fool who’d leave my sexy, smart, beautiful wife I loved so much.

That look put me over the edge. I leaned forward and kissed her. I gave one last frantic thrust against her booty, trying to compress it as much as possible to get a teeny bit deeper. I felt her cervix kiss the tip of my cockhead. Ciara’s mouth muffled my ‘I’m cumming!’ noises. I held still and shot rope after rope of hot cum into her pussy, splashing the hell out of the entrance to her womb.

After I had given her all the cum I could get out of my body, I pushed her forward. Back into prone position, my still stiff cock never leaving her pussy. I lay on top of her, both of us gasping for air like we’d sprinted a kilometer. When I could talk again, I murmured in her ear, “I love you so much. You’re so smart and sweet and sexy and slutty.”

“Lotta ‘s’s there.”

I gave her a light swat on a buttock. “Day-ahm! Sure IS a lotta ass there.”

“Oooh, you in trouble now, white boy.”

“Ah, you know I love your gigantic sexy booty. It’s, like, my fourth favorite part of your body.”

“Fourth? You’re reeeeally not helping yourself there, Pervert Boy.”

“Top five: the scent of your sweet black pussy — far and away number one.”

“Goooo on.”

“Two: your beautiful eyes.”

“Nice save! I may give you some more sex sometime this year, you keep this up.”

“Three: your gorgeous curly hair. Feels so good, when you deign to let me touch it.”

“You’re doing real good for a clueless aspie – you can touch it now, sir.”

I ran my hands through the lovely texture of her curls. Brushing the back of my hands as I did against her cheeks, her earlobes, her neck, causing her to close her eyes and purr. “Fourth — booty. Fifth — breasts.”

“I will stipulate that you are not an entirely irredeemable scoundrel, with a list like that.”

I’d been struggling against the post-orgasm sleepies, so I could give her the aftercare she needed, but felt my eyelids drooping. “Mmmmhh… do you want me to roll off you now, stop crushing you?”

“Don’t you dare! I want to feel your weight hugging me, and your big white cock still inside me.”

I sleepily thought about it, while my erection continued to subside. She didn’t usually like being crushed. “Ummm… why?”

She turned her head again to look at me with her wicked eyes glinting with amusement. “So you can keep the cum you gave me inside my body. You know, making that baby.” She tilted her head to give me a gentle kiss, then touched her forehead against mine. Still watching me, her face out of focus from being so close.

A jolt of adrenaline shot through me, mostly counteracting the ‘Go To Sleep Because You Came’ chemicals floating in me. What the… she wouldn’t… A long silence as I thought it through. “Aaaah. You’re messing with me. Good one! You had me there.”

She gave me an odd appraising look. “You gave me that cum. It’s mine. YOU’RE mine. Or are you gonna make the biggest mistake in the history of mankind and run for the hills if I’m pregnant?”

I stared into her beautiful eyes, trying to figure out if she was still teasing me with that super deadpan lack of expression.

She raised her arched eyebrows. “May I remind you of your pledge to truthfully answer my questions, no matter how damning it usually makes you look?”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Say something, you idiot. Just say the truth. Don’t pause and make it awkward, make her think I’m manufacturing a lie. “I’m crazy in love with you. I ain’t leaving ’cause I’m not a gotdamn fool either. No matter what. And if you want a baby or three, I’ll gladly fuck you every single day, give you all my cum!”

My wife’s eyes twinkled. In a dry voice she said in a faux upper-crust British accent, “Such altruism, offering to make that noble sacrifice every day. But, that was an adequate answer, sir. I will deign to let you stay with me. Or rather, stay on top of me.”

My cock softened inside Ciara’s pussy so much that it would slip out if I weren’t pressed so tightly against her.

I better blow off Ben when he asks me over tomorrow. Can’t believe I risked throwing all this away.

Hmmm. ‘Blow off’? Phrasing?

Thanks for reading pls vote or comment “Whatcha thinking about?”

I thought about the correct double entendre. “Blowjobs?”

“You have pleased me, sir. If you care to roll off now, I will give you a reward commensurate with your efforts.”

Still with the British accent. Kinda hot, actually.

I rolled off. “Might be a bit too soon for me to cum again.”

She gave an endearing snort. “Guys. Think they have to cum to have a great blowjob.” She scooted over, her head near my sleepy penis, her pussy near my face. Hinting she wanted to do 69ing, facing sideways. “You were an animal earlier. So. Damn. Hot. Whatever got into you, keep on doing it.”

I stared at her pussy, speechless, as some of my cum oozed out. Fuck, does she know? Nah.

Guess I get to taste my own cum today, too.

Ciara rolled her eyes, misinterpreting my silence as reluctance. “It’s just cum, fer fuck’s sake. You’ve tasted it plenty of times before, kissing after a blowjob.” She put her hand on the back of my neck and pushed me toward her shining wet cunt, a gesture I was getting a lot of today. “That pussy ain’t gonna lick itself.”

I put my nose into my wife’s pussy hairs and inhaled deeply. “Oooohhh, yes. You smell amazing, baby.” I gave it a slow lick.

“Good boy.” She slipped her lips around my cockhead and slooowly licked while I groaned and started flicking her clit with my tongue.

***

Mid-afternoon the next day, I got a text from Ben. “Done with studying and shopping. Cum over.”

I texted back. “Could you please not spell it ‘cum’? Seriously, don’t you have ANY survival skills?” Then I deleted both texts, since Ciara knew my phone’s password and had my permission to check my texts if necessary. With a worrisomely loose definition of ‘necessary’ if I left such indiscreet texts on it.

A chime announced a new text. “Hey, c’mon over and chat if you have some time.”

“See ya in 15?”

“K.”

***

I knocked on Ben’s door.

He shouted, “Cum in.”

I was pretty sure he didn’t mean ‘come in’.

I entered his and Janelle’s house. A nicely decorated house, sullied by the first hints of bachelor squalor. An apparently unwashed glass and plates near the sink. Like it was a lot of trouble to take two steps, open the dishwasher door, and put the dirty dishes inside. Carpet not vacuumed since Janelle left. Pillows and cushions on the couch unfluffed.

Still way cleaner than your average bachelor pad, but Ciara would have been appalled. She was in denial about having OCD, even though I’d pointed out a few times that an obsessively clean house like ours was, like, textbook. Followed by hastily saying such the clean house was also deeply appreciated, Maybe with a reassuring buttock squeeze to reinforce how sexy she was.

There’s a spectrum of OCD-ness, of course. A physician lesbian friend of mine had once announced at a party that she was not a ‘fringe straightener’. When I asked what that was, she said someone with severe enough OCD that they couldn’t abide a rug with messed up fringes.

I looked her in the eye, then used the toe of my shoe to deliberately scuff the perfectly aligned fringe on the Persian carpet we were standing on. Just a smidge. Baaarely noticeable.

She looked at it. Looked at me. Looked at it again.

Said, “Dammit,” and used her foot to carefully straighten it out.

Ben interrupted my reminiscing. “Bought a gift for you today. Follow me.”

He led me into their master bedroom.

On the bed, fairly neatly laid out, was black lacy lingerie. Stockings with a fine meshed fishnet material, and garter belts to hook them to the panties. A scrap of partially opaqued lacy material masquerading as said panties. The same material forming a B cup bra. A baby doll nightie in see through black material flowing down to cover one’s butt, or at least get in the vicinity for a tall guy like me.

And a pair of black high heeled shoes, using a minimalist amount of leather.

“You bought all that — for me?”

“Just the shoes. The lingerie is Janelle’s. Should fit you fine, since you have much the same figure. Bra might be a bit loose — your pecs are more like A cups.”

“We need to talk. I can’t do this. I don’t want to fuck up my marriage. I love Ciara so much.”

“I hear you. Tell you what — we can just talk, but put on the lingerie. For fun. Make the conversation more interesting.”

“Not sure you’re listening to me. I. Love. My. Wife.”

“If I hadn’t already locked the door, Ciara could stroll in, see you wearing this while we chatted — and still, no way she’d divorce you over that. You could sell it as an interesting hobby you’re trying out. Hell, she might even be into you doing a little light crossdressing. Spice things up in your bedroom.”

“Dunno.” Damn it. Another ‘yes, if you ask nicely’.

“Please? I miss seeing my wife dressed all sexy. You’d look so much like her, it’d be like she was still here.”

“Weird thing happened when I went home. Ciara and I had amazing hot sex. And after, she said, and I quote, ‘You were an animal earlier. So. Damn. Hot. Whatever got into you, keep on doing it.’ ”

Ben’s eyebrows raised. “You got a hell of a memory. That word for word?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty good at remembering whenever my wife unintentionally suggests it would be OK to continue to fuck my best friend,” I said dryly.

“Sounds like that was good for your marriage. Break up the routine. Kinda undercutting your argument that we should just talk.”

“One time lapse in judgement. End of story.”

Ben shrugged. “Fine. Whatever. Lemme help you undress.” He stepped behind me, then reached around and unbuttoned my shirt. Tossed it away carelessly. “Gimme the bra.”

I handed it to him, and put my arms out. He slipped them through the arm holes and laid the thin black straps over my shoulders. Hooked the bra together in the back. He adjusted the straps in the back so it fit snugly everywhere except the cups. They fit loosely, what with having pecs instead of breasts.

“Mmmm,” he growled. “Yes.” He kissed the back of my neck, already knowing where to kiss or nibble to turn me on.

“Kick your shoes off, and take off your socks.”

I kicked the shoes away, then bent over to do the socks, and his hand squeezed my butt.

“Hey! Stop that!”

He gave my booty a swat.

“Ow! The fuck?”

“You gonna dress up like my bitch, gotta expect some rough treatment every now and then.”

I finished taking off and tossing away the second sock.

“I’m not your bitch!”

Another swat, harder. Ben began slowly and sensually removing the rest of my clothes, his fingers lightly touching flesh as it became exposed. “You kneeled before me, took my cock in your mouth and got mouthfucked. Let me cum in it, and then you swallowed that cum. Then you let me bend you over my couch, fuck your ass and cum in there, too. Oh, and you came without even touching yourself as I fucked the cum out of you. What exactly would it take for you to embrace your femininity and consider yourself my bitch? I mean that word in the most admiring and flattering sense possible, of course.” He ground his clothed stiff cock into my naked butt. “Hand me the panties and stockings.”

I gave him those bits of lacy see-through materials, and let him put them on me, seductively touching and kissing my skin as he adjusted the garter belts. Which caused my cock to stiffen and press against the scanty material, tenting it.

He put on the babydoll nightie, and then kneeled to help me put on the stiletto high heels.

I resisted the urge to retaliate for his earlier rough treatment, and unflattering summary of what he’d done to me yesterday. I didn’t grab his hair and grind my dick against his mouth. It was tempting as hell to escalate – but then he’d escalate back.

He took off the twisty holding my hair in a ponytail. Adjusted my wavy brown hair so it cascaded down my back and by my breasts — I mean pecs, dammit.

When he was done, he stepped back to check me out. Whistled appreciately. “Day-ahm! You fine as hell as a woman. Spin around.”

I shyly gave him a view as I slowly turned around.

“From the back, you look almost exactly like Janelle. I mean, other than the bra cups, her lingerie fits you perfectly. Hair’s a touch less curly, and your skin is barely less tanned, but otherwise… let’s get you in front of that mirror.”

I wobbled unsteadily in the high heels, Ben holding my arm to catch me if I stumbled. We stood in front of floor to ceiling mirrors.

Holy crap, I look sexy as hell in this lingerie! The wildly impractical heels made my butt stick out enticingly, and did great things to my legs too.

“One last touch,” Ben said. He took a lipstick tube out of his pocket — presumably also his wife’s — and carefully applied the pale coral pink gloss to my full lips. Took a tissue from the nearby nightstand. “Press your lips together.” When I did, he gently wiped the excess where he’d colored outside the lines.

He stepped back. “OK, make your lips a little pouty. Oh, yes. Mmmmm- mmmhh! Looks like glistening pussy lips on your face.”

I rolled my eyes a fraction of a second’s worth.

“Perfect blowjob lips. So fuckable.”

I gave him a swat on his arm. “Thought we were gonna just talk.”

“We ARE talking. About how fine a woman you are, Janelle. Here, let’s sit on the bed and talk.”

I sat down on the edge of the bed.

Ben didn’t sit.

He walked right in front of me, his bulging jeans showing the outlines of his stiffening monster cock. Put his hand on the back of my neck. “Hey, Janelle. You look so sexy dressing up for your husband.”

I took his hand off my neck. But still held onto his hand, keeping the connection. His palm was rougher than my softness, and so very warm from the heat generated by his athletic body. “I’m not gonna do that! I want to talk about yesterday.”

He squeezed my hand gently, then raised it up to his full dark lips. Planted a soft kiss on my fingertips, and held it there a moment, causing my heart to thunder away. It felt like my cheeks were blushing.

“OK,” he said. “I’m listening.” What he wasn’t doing was sitting down. Or moving the enticing bulge away from my pink lips. Or releasing my hand from the heat of his touch.

Fuck fuck fuck. How does he sweet talk me into this?

“I love my wife. I’m not gonna fuck up my marriage. We took some crazy risks with my future yesterday.”

“I feel you, baby. I don’t wanna fuck up my marriage, either.”

“Stop calling me baby. Trying to have a serious discussion here.”

“I feel you… Janelle. But you make an amazing wife. And you look stunning and so fucking sexy right now.”

I took my hand away from his, and instantly regretted the loss of contact. Damn. Why do I… He smells so good. It’s not fair.

“Tell you what. Let’s see if you really mean this.”

I parted my lips. Licked them, tasting a hint of vanilla from the lipstick. I told myself I licked them because they felt dry.

His eyes widened a fraction, as he stared hungrily at my slightly more moistened lips.

I felt a strange sense of power, of femininity, that I could mesmerize him with such a tiny gesture.

I hope I can use my power for good, I thought ironically.

“What does my husband have in mind for this test?” Just a trace of sarcasm on the word ‘husband’, for which, to lighten the mood, I pronounced like a black woman from Atlanta, with three, maybe four syllables and a drawl: ‘Huuuuuhhsbunnnd’

“You give me three kisses, tailored to my exact specifications. If you can then look me in the eye and tell me that you can go the rest of your life without us ever kissing again — just platonic friends forever — I’ll respect that decision. But I’m gonna hold you to the same standard as Ciara’s: utter honesty, no lying or evading or deflecting, because that’ll be one of those direct questions you’ve pledged to answer.”

I thought it over. “OK.”

Ben sat down on the bed next to me. “Kiss me, starting with our lips touching gently, then with a bit more heat, and ending with our tongues dancing together. Thirty seconds total.” He leaned forward until our lips were an inch apart, then stopped. His eyes gazing into mine, his pupils wide open with attraction. Waiting for me to close the gap.

I held his look uncomfortably long, wondering if this was a good idea, then thought: Fuck it. A whole minute and half? Easy.

I moved closer, until our lips were separated by the tiniest gap, with what felt like miniscule lightning bolts bridging the chasm. He didn’t move. This responsibility was all on me.

I touched his lips, just barely, with mine. Started slowly counting: One Mississippi, Two…

It felt amazing, and surprisingly sensual, given that we were barely physically in contact at all.

At the count of Ten Mississippi, I kissed more passionately, closing my eyes. He kissed back, but letting me set the pace. My heart was pounding like mad — even though we were just a third of the way through the first of three kisses. Barely started, and my body was already mass dumping those delightful chemicals in my head.

Dammit.

I lost track of time then, stopped the countdown in my head. Let the series of moments stretch in a timeless perfect zen-ness. Shutting out the usual noise in my head and just…

Being.

I might have been well over the thirty seconds when I moved into the last phase of the kiss, my tongue slipping into his mouth. After a few moments, his tongue reciprocated. I felt a rush of passion that extended to my cock daintily encased in pretty black lace. It felt like it would burst through the fabric as it pushed hard, trying to rise up, but trapped.

I quit thinking about my treasonous penis, undercutting my desire to stay happily married, as Ben tonguefucked me. Really lost count of time about then.

I finally broke the kiss, and opened my eyes.

Ben was looking at me with amusement. “For the record, you’re showing all the physiologic signs of arousal. Looks like a full body blush, pupils so wide you can barely see the irises, and… other stuff.” He glanced meaningfully downward at my… OK, Janelle’s… panties.

Ben might have to wash them before she gets home tomorrow, get the precum out.

“Whew,” I said, in one of my less articulate moments.

“Yeah, wow.” He paused. “Ready for the second kiss?”

“OK…?”

“This one, for also thirty seconds. No penalty for running waaaay over like you did on the first kiss, of course. You kiss and nibble starting on my earlobe, sliding down my neck, and finish on the back of my neck.”

“Sounds like you’re cheating. That’s a bunch of kisses.”

“No, just one kiss, lips sliding around, never breaking skin contact. Light nibbles with the teeth are, of course, optional. I specified only kissing, which is limited to lips and tongue.”

“I think you’re gonna pass the bar on your first try. You’ve got that sneaky lawyering mindset perfected.”

“Unless you have some more questions, I’m gonna shut up and let you commence when ready.”

I leaned in, close to his dark brown skin, looking at his long earlobe. Oh, fuuuuck, he smells gooood. Playing dirty, using that cologne, whatever the hell it is, with his natural skin fragrance.

Well, let’s get on with it, the next to last kiss we’ll ever share…

I put my lip on his dark brown earlobe. My tongue teased him with little flicks like I’d used on a different part of his anatomy yesterday. I felt dizzy and stunned by how great he smelled at close range. I lost track of time again. I slid my lips down his neck, my tongue barely touching all the way. Kept slowly sliding toward the back of his neck, again probably way over the allotted time. He softly moaned. This seemingly innocuous kiss had his massive dick swollen to its maximum length and girth. His tightly curled black hair at the shaved neckline tickled my upper lip… damn, I like that texture. I finished at the designated spot, which must have a ton of nerve endings because I could hear Ben’s breath grow ragged and fast.

Lifted off.

Who knew THIS could be so erotic?

“Daaaayyyy-aaahhhmm, Janelle.”

“Mmmm-hmmm,” I murmured in a deep bear-like growl.

Eventually his breath returned to normal.

“So… last kiss we’ll ever share, coming up?”

“Still thinking… never again?”

“Yup.”

“You’re such a pessimist.”

“I’d say preserving my marriage with the woman I’m madly in love with is undiluted optimism. Bring it on – third and last kiss.”

“Sure you’re up for it, able to resist the massive temptation I pose?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Last chance to back out.”

I briefly rolled my eyes while holding my palms up, in a Let’s Get On With It Already gesture.

“Last kiss. Still a mere thirty seconds of extreme temptation…”

I waited.

“You start by kissing just the tip of my bare dick. Move onto the midsection of the head. Finish with your lips wrapped around the edge of the helmet, still kissing. Tongue optional, as is going above and beyond onto the shaft.”

I stared at him in silence.

“What?” he said, all innocence.

“That’s totally cheating. Never agreed to THAT.”

“As a lawyer in training, I can assure you I was careful and precise in the conditions of the bet. You’ve got that great memory — call up my words, see if this is technically within the parameters.”

I dragged it out of my medium-term memory.

‘You give me three kisses, tailored to my exact specifications.’

Fuck. Didn’t specify any limits about where on the body. And by gladly agreeing to the second kiss, which wandered over a fair amount of skin, none of it on the lips or in the mouth, can’t argue that it was limited to that…

Fuckin’ lawyers.

OK, here goes. “While this proposed kiss might, technically speaking, fall within the parameters of the agreement, it violates the spirit of the agreement.”

“There’s a phrase for lawyers who in desperation bust out the ‘spirit of the agreement’ argument. Or act like a technicality is something that will get thrown out on appeal because they think it ought to be illegal.”

“That phrase being…?”

“Counsel for the losing side.”

I sighed in exasperation at him being so… technically correct.

Ben shrugged and turned his palms facing up in a ‘I’m A Reasonable Guy’ gesture. “Hey, it’s all of 30 seconds. Half a minute. Are you telling me that a kiss… ANY kiss… of that short duration will break your resolve to be an upstanding citizen who doesn’t ever color outside the lines? And, if you wanna back out, I didn’t put any penalty clause in the agreement. So, worst thing that can happen is I rag you mercilessly and tease the fuck outta you. For the next couple decades. For your cowardice.”

I took a deep breath.

Got down on my knees before him.

I could have stayed on the bed. Leaned over and kissed his cock without being in such a submissive position. But the ‘cowardice’ remark stung. So… all in. Try as hard as you can, Ben. Thirty seconds, and then no more kisses, ever. And this time I was NOT going to lose track of time.

“Good girl, Janelle,” he murmured in that rumbly bedroom voice that made my heart hammer. “You would have made such a good wife. Gonna miss that.”

I wasn’t sure if there was understated wryness in that tone, what with the deep rumbly voice thing distracting me.

Ben stood up. Slowly unbuckled his belt, letting me think it over. Undid the top button on his jeans. Pulled down the zipper, which made the faintest metallic sound. Pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees, and stepped close to me, his huge cock at maybe six inches plus already and a third of the way up to being fully upright. Maybe two inches away from my lips. A drop of precum started to form.

I closed the gap, and gave just the tip of his reddish-brown mushroom head a kiss, right on the pee slit. Smearing pretty pink lipstick in the process, no doubt. Started slowly counting. Dragging it out so he couldn’t possibly argue I’d tried to short him on time. Decided to go above and beyond, show my determination. I stuck my tongue between my lips and licked the drop of precum. Took it in my mouth and held it.

Thanks for reading pls vote or comment Ohmygod, it tastes so good. Better than I remembered. And then there was the musky, woodsy aroma wafting off his hair nearby. And this is the last time I’ll ever taste another man’s cum in my life. Might as well enjoy it while I can.

I closed my eyes so Ben couldn’t see me roll my eyeballs up in ecstasy.

“Good girl. Such a good girl.” His hand oh so lightly stroked my hair. No pressure whatsoever, so I couldn’t argue he forced me to do anything.

Those words and the stroking sure seem like cheating, but whatever. It’ll be over in less than 30 seconds…

Fuck. What was the count?

“You’re such a good wife, Janelle.”

Has to be at least 10 seconds, right? I opened my jaws wider and parted my lips and took his cockhead halfway inside. And, just to fuck with his mind, I made my tongue rapidly flick on his frenulum.

“Aaaauuggggkkk. Fuck. Fuck.”

Yeah, that’ll teach him.

My chin was tilting up as his cock expanded and rose upwards, maybe two-thirds erect now. The precum was dripping out quicker now, thanks to what my tongue was doing. I opened my eyes and stared boldly into his lust-glazed pupils. His hand stroked faster as I compressed my stretched lips again and again in a kind of kiss.

“Ohhhh, Janelle. Don’t stop.”

Startled, I realized I’d lost track of time. Again. Get the head inside, then only ten more seconds, yeah? I moved back down to the tip for a moment, to see the lipstick on his cock so far. I opened my jaws painfully wide and took his entire head between my aching, outstretched lips.

My tongue slithered everywhere it could reach. My lips kissed the edge of the helmet by squeezing up and down the flared ridge.

Ben’s balled tightened, like he was already about to cum His cock was maximally stiff and pointed up. He was making these sexy sounds as my lips and tongue started setting him off…

I froze on his cockhead, my lips and tongue utterly still. Teasing the sneaky bastard. Held it for a while, since pulling off now would likely get my face sticky from ropes of cum landing on it.

Waaay more than ten seconds here. Time to pull off.

I got halfway off the head, then was hit with this feeling of… remorse?… desire?

I couldn’t go the last couple inches and be free.

While I was processing these emotions, I felt my head moving back down his much smaller and considerably less thoughtful head.

I took all his cockhead in my mouth, and oh so slowly started down the shaft. Licking and squeezing my lips.

Ben must have realized my surrender, because he put his hand firmly on the back of my neck. Not really pushing down, but acting like a ratcheting effect. I wasn’t moving back off his shaft unless I convinced him I was gonna start bobbing up and down to get him off.

“Oooohhh, such a naughty dirty good girl, Janelle! Keep licking! I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum in my wife’s slutty mouth and make her my bitch. Oooh, oooooh…

And that’s when someone else cleared their throat really loudly.

Ben turned his head to the doorway and froze.

I pulled my head entirely off his cock, and looked toward the doorway too. At a very pissed-off wife whose lingerie I was wearing. Whose husband had been right on the verge of cumming in my mouth.

Huhn, I thought, remembering a scene from the TV series “Firefly.” That went well.

“Janelle,” Ben said.

“I’m glad you still remember my name, what with me being gone for almost three full days,” she said in a voice so dry it made the Mojave Desert seem like a tropical rainforest by comparison. “Even if you’ve entirely forgotten our marriage vows.” She was still in a business suit in charcoal gray with a matching skirt. She wore slightly darker stockings ending in black medium rise heels, like practical stilettos if that was a thing, and a pale pink shirt underneath. As if she had rushed home early from her conference, without taking the time to change. All so she could surprise her lonely husband and drag his horny sex-deprived body straight to bed for some explosive ‘Missed You So Much’ hot sex.

I decided that I ought to stand up, what with the ‘kiss’ being definitively ended. ‘Cept I was still wearing stiletto high heels, on which I’d had maybe a half-hour of practice wearing. Turns out, standing up can be a surprisingly tricky thing to do even on level ground with no heels. I got partway up, then fell backwards onto my ass.

Not my finest moment.

There was a moment of tense silence. Then Janelle snorted, and burst out laughing. She walked toward me, tears running down her face. Not sure if from sorrow or at my lack of coordination.

Held out her hand. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be lau–” Busted out laughing again.

I took her hand, and she managed to stop laughing and help me up.

I saw Ben with his lawyer face on. His mouth opened an inch or so like he was about to speak, but was trying to choose his words carefully and diplomatically, if not exactly truthfully.

Bad idea to go all lawyer on her ass. I shot him a look, gave him just the barest shake of the head back and forth. As in, ‘No. Lemme handle it.’

Janelle, being wicked smart, picked up on that little silent exchange. She looked at me in her lingerie and said, “You should have a name for when you’re embracing your femininity like this. How about Jamie?”

“I like that name.” I paused just a moment to check if she was being sarcastic when she said that, or whether I had read the sincerity in her voice correctly. When she didn’t jump right in, I raised my palms up facing forward in the universal ‘I surrender and/or come in peace’ gesture. “First off — do I need to get out of your lingerie right away?”

“No offense, Jamie, but you make a much better looking woman than a man, so feel free to keep them on while we… discuss… stuff. It’s actually kinda hot, you finding out what it is like to be a woman. Some questionable judgment on how you’ve chosen to go about exploring it with…” She nudged her chin to indicate Ben, then shot him a look that put even more fear in his eyes.

I realized my hands were still up in the peace gesture. I dropped them to my sides. “Second and more important thing. You might not believe it in this particular moment, but I respect the heck outta you, and value a friendship which may no longer exist. So, I’m gonna offer you the same deal Ciara and I have. You can ask me any question whatsoever, and no matter how damning it makes me look, I’ll answer it fully and truthfully. And also answer right away, so you know I’m not trying to shave any corners off the truth. But, I’ll warn you upfront if I think my answer will horrify you with the details of how testosterone poisoning manifests itself. So… ask away.”

Janelle stared into my eyes, judging. “Ciara told me about you doing this for her. Thought she was exaggerating. Guess I’m gonna find out. First question: how long have you and Ben been…?”

I looked up to my right. “Since… 3 pm?… yesterday. Maybe 3:30.”

She gave me a ‘you are facing imminent death if you’re lying to me, and I have a powerful bullshit detector’ stare. “Really? Just yesterday? Last chance to come clean.”

I raised my eyebrows and gave her my ‘I may be a gotdamn fool for doing this, but I sure the fuck ain’t lying to you’ look. “Yesterday. Seriously.”

She chewed on her lower lip, judging my veracity. Then she relaxed. “OK. And precisely what sexual acts occurred since then? I want details.” She sat down on the bed, and patted next to her. When Ben started moving to sit next to her, she shot him a ‘you bad bad puppy’ look and said, “Stand. Don’t fucking talk unless I ask you something. No lawyer bullshit.”

I sat next to her. “Lemme know if I’m being TMI. Ben and I were sitting on the couch yesterday watching blowjob porn on the TV. He said he was really horny, ’cause you and he usually have sex two, maybe three times a day. I said I was possibly hornier, because Ciara and I hadn’t had sex for four days. So Ben suggested we take turns jacking each other off.”

I stopped, waited for her reaction.

“Keep going.”

I couldn’t read her deadpan expression.

“Ben said he should go first, because I was more feminine. Then he coaxed me onto my knees and put his cock near my face, and got me to start jacking him off. I think he kinda nudged my head onto his prick, though maybe that was mainly me. So I gave him a blowjob and he came in my mouth and coaxed me into swallowing. Oh, and sometime before that, he said he’d like to refer to me as ‘Janelle’ and ‘his wife’ cause he said I look a lot like you. Said it would help him imagine he was doing it with you.”

Janelle held up a hand for me to stop. Looked at Ben with the flat look cops give perps. “So, in your head it was kinda not cheating?”

Ben nodded his head ‘yes’. A total lawyer move – say as little as possible under interrogation.

Janelle raised her eyebrows at this minimalistic response. Sighed.

Looked back at me. “You’re aspie as fuck, aren’t you?”

“Yup. But real high functioning. Look at the beautiful, sexy, smart woman I somehow convinced to marry me.” I closed my eyes, trying not to cry. “Though I may have fucked up the best thing ever happened to me.”

In a soft voice, Janelle said, “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

I did. Wiped away some tears. Tried to bring it under control.

Still soft: “You gonna tell your wife?”

“Don’t know what the fuck to do here. Only thing I’m sure of, if she asks a direct question, I gotta do the same thing I’m doing for you. I’m terrified she’s gonna do that soon. She’s really smart. Just like you.”

She gave me a look I couldn’t quite decipher, than gave Ben a look that made him close his eyes and slump against the wall. He was still under direct orders to stand, and must have realized that insubordination would likely be A. Really. Bad. Idea.

“Did my… husband… give you lingerie to wear yesterday while you were giving him that blowjob?” She put an edge on ‘husband’ that sounded vaguely ominous, while only dragging it out to two and a half, maybe three syllables.

“Nah. That was today, maybe an hour ago.”

“We wrapped up yesterday’s festivities?”

“Oh, no. Just getting started.”

“Go ooooonnnn.”

“After Ben came – yesterday – for the first time – I asked if it was my turn now. Which somehow he interpreted as he would fuck me in the ass.”

“He got that huge cock in your ass? And you’re not in the hospital? Seems… terrifying.”

“He didn’t just jam it in me immediately and hope for the best. He took his time, got a lubed finger in there first, then a second one, then a third. I mean, he’s not an asshole.”

Janelle put a hand on my thigh. Gave it a squeeze. “You DO know he’s studying to be a lawyer, right?” She didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry to remove her hand. I decided to lean into it, put my hand on top of hers, tapped it with my fingers. Even though this acquiescing to physical contact was what had brought me to this perilous moment in the first place.

“Did he ever give you your… turn? And if so, how?”

“Well, he literally fucked the cum outta me. I mean, I was worried, because it was real painful, but then he kissed me and that made it a lot better. And then his dick hit my prostate. And… wow. Didn’t know how good that could be. So that made me cum. And I was making a lot of noise, and I think that turned him on, so he came in my ass.”

She took her hand off my thigh, only to squeeze my shoulder. Then, to my surprise, she put her arm around me. “Sounds like you learned a lot of painful lessons about being a woman in a really short time.” She stared at Ben, motioned to the decorative pillow-holding chair that women with any sense of style always have in a bedroom.

He took a seat.

“Anything else yesterday?”

“I think that’s about it. No more orgasms, anyhow. Oh yeah, while he was cumming in my ass, he was spanking me and pulling my hair and calling me a slut and a bitch and whore. But then he went back to calling me by your name, and saying I was a good girl and a good wife.” I thought about it. “In his defense, the entire time he was fucking me, yesterday and today, he seemed to be roleplaying in his head that he was actually doing you. I think he was missing you, and wished you were there.”

Ben had a pained look on his face while I was trying to rally to his defense. I got the distinct impression if he ever ran across a potential juror like me during voir dire in a trial, he’d burn up a peremptory challenge to get my sorry ass far away from the courtroom. Preferably to a different state. Or a new identity in witness protection.

“Anything else I oughta know about yesterday?”

“Probably not. Unless you want more detail.”

“Moving on… today? How did you wind up wearing lingerie and giving my potential future ex-husband a blowjob?”

So I went over how I got coaxed into her lingerie, and the three ‘kisses’ and whatnot. She went from having her arm loosely around my waist to pulling me tightly against her side, almost hugging me. I think perhaps she had never run across a guy who wouldn’t lie to her. Or woman, since she kept referring to me that way.

When I wound down, she fixed Ben with the same death stare that she had given me at the start of our conversation. Or maybe confession. “Anything you want to add? Any pertinent details she may have thought weren’t relevant?”

“Can I plead the Fifth Amendment?”

The death stare got more ominous.

“I think… Jamie… served up an incredibly detailed,” he thought for a moment for the right word, “… indictment. As what I would characterize as, a witness for the prosecution.” He looked at me. “Dear god, how the fuck are you still married with that sort of brutal honesty about yourself?”

Janelle patted me on the back, then walked over and stood there, staring at her husband, her arms crossed. “Do you actually still want to be married to me?”

He looked up at her towering over him, a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes. “More than anything in the goddamn world. I love you so much.” He thought about it. “The recent damning testimony notwithstanding. If I could rewind the last day or so, I’d do it in a heartbeat, and make sure nothing like this happened when I took that mulligan.”

“Because. You. Got. Caught?” It wasn’t remotely a question.

I heard the quiet lack of sound of the Fifth being invoked in Ben’s head.

“First off: regarding your question about how Jamie is still married? It’s BECAUSE he won’t lie to her when she asks him a question. Do you have any fucking idea how exhausting it is to women to have men lie about every fucking thing imaginable? Like that moment earlier, where you were thinking about pulling some variant of the classic, ‘It’s not what it looks like, honey?’ before Jamie silently talked you out of walking off that relationship cliff?”

She paused to let that sink in. “And do you know how especially galling it is when the woman is really smart, and her husband insults her intelligence by lying to her in a painfully obvious way. Or even a subtle way, and thinks she ain’t gonna figure it out?”

Ben blinked rapidly. Didn’t say a fucking word. Like he didn’t trust himself to speak right then without the lawyer in him saying something really stupid.

“So — and this is non-negotiable — if you don’t want me to get a divorce lawyer on speed dial today…” She waited for him to get it, and say it himself so she knew the lesson had sunk in.

No such luck.

“… you will commit, right now, to fully emulating Jamie’s example and never lie to me again when I ask you a direct question.”

“Yes,” Ben said. “Yes!”

“Yes as in, I hear the words flying out of your mouth? Or, yes as in, I’m committed to that, starting right now?’

“The latter. The fully commit one.”

“Aaand, moving on. The most exasperating thing here isn’t what you did. It’s what you didn’t do. Which is call me and tell me you were super horny and thinking of doing something really stupid. Maybe asking for my fucking advice, or at least consent?”

“Got it. Try talking to your spouse if all else fails.”

Too soon, Ben, I thought. Waaaaay too fucking soon for jokes.

“Now: what punishment would you propose? One that would help you gain a smidge of empathy for how I feel about this whole infuriating episode?”

“You want me to punish myself?”

“You want me to be the one to choose a suitable punishment? One that makes this into your problem to solve, not mine?” Janelle asked in an dangerously soft voice.

Ben tilted his chin at me. “Jamie’s about as close to a neutral third-party arbitrator as we can find.”

Janelle walked over and sat back down next to me, her thighs and hips and shoulders touching mine. Took my hand again. “Any suggestions?”

I shook my head. “The obvious solution is wildly morally problematic.”

“Indulge me. Not so obvious to me.”

“Tit for tat. Fuck someone else, and make him watch. Hell, make him consent beforehand. Because he loves you like crazy, recent events notwithstanding. Ifthat fails to give him an epiphany about how much his behavior hurt you…” I rolled my eyes. “The only real downside is that it’s a terrible fucking idea.”

“Let’s stipulate for the sake of argument that it’s a terrible fucking idea. But, if the only other option was divorcing his ass, would this be a better option? And if so, how would you suggest finding a suitable candidate?”

“Fuck if I know.” She kept looking at me intently. “Oooh. Oh, HELL no.”

Her eyes looked hurt. “Because I’m unattractive to you?”

“You’re beautiful and sexy and desirable. Almost the physical opposite of Ciara, but beauty comes in all sizes and colors and personalities.”

“So it’s…”

“I’m trying desperately to think of a way to stay married to Ciara, despite letting your husband fuck me. How’s this gonna help?”

“Maybe not fucking, then. Maybe cunnilingus would be less morally problematic? Lesbian sex seems more socially acceptable.”

Ben said, “What are you two banging on about?”

Janelle gave me a big side hug.

I whispered, “Please. No.”

Janelle said, brightly, “Hey, honey, how would you feel about Jamie here trying out lesbian sex and licking my pussy?”

“HELL no!”

Janelle smiled, baring her teeth. A smile that chimpanzees or gorillas would instantly interpret as a threat display. “Hey, honey, how would you feel about getting some practical real world tutoring for the bar exam? It’s got questions about divorce law, yeah?”

I said to Janelle, “Some really smart and wise woman recently advised that before engaging in extramarital sex, first try calling your spouse and see if they think it’s a good idea? What was her name again? Tip of my tongue…”

“The tip of the tongue thing is precisely what I’m suggesting. Oh, and what follow up questions do you think Ciara would ask if you made that call?”

I thought it over for, like, two seconds. A cascade of bad scenarios ensued in my head.

I grimaced. “Point made. But why the fuck me? There’s, like, almost nine billion other people on the planet. Pick one.”

“Already did, dear. No one else I know who I would want to share such intimacy with. And you’re adorable in a clumsy, awkward, socially inept way. And I would like to rub my husband’s nose in some consequences, like right now. Plus, Ciara said you were crazy good at oral sex.”

She looked at Ben. “Would you concur, honey?”

He stared sullenly at her.

“That was a direct question, Ben. Which you’ve committed to answering.”

‘Fuck.’ he mouthed, silently.

“Can’t hear you. Care to speak up?”

“Can’t speak to cunnilingus, but he’s fucking amazing at cocksucking. Happy?”

She looked at me. “So you’re really good at something you’ve tried, what, twice?”

Unlike Ben, I’d had a lot of practice recognizing those direct questions. “Yes, your husband seemed inordinately pleased by my oral skills.”

She looked at Ben. “Another direct question: do you consent to Jamie giving me cunnilingus while you watch?”

Thanks for reading pls vote or comment His jaw muscle clenched, then he muttered, “Yes.”

She looked at me. Raised her dark, finely arched eyebrows.

“Follow up question, Janelle: what’s in it for me? Seems like all downside risk — one more thing that could get my ass divorced.”

“You need a friend to smooth the way with your wife. Someone who she feels comfortable sharing all sorts of intimate details with. Someone who is her best friend. Someone smart enough to get her to accept the necessity of showing Ben how he made me feel.”

“Plus, you’re blackmailing me, basically.”

“Blackmail? Nah. You can say ‘no’, and I won’t say a peep to Ciara. But how long do you think it will take a brilliant woman like her to figure it out on her own? You want me to help you save your marriage. I want you to help me fix Ben’s lack of contrition and remorse, so I’ll… grudgingly…want to stay married to him.”

One more fucking thing I’m gonna have to tell Ciara eventually, I thought. But, that’s a problem for future Cheating Bojack to deal with.

“It seems crazy — like trying to fuck your way to chastity — but I need your help. So, yes.”

“Don’t be so glum. We’re both gonna enjoy this.”

“Don’t keep selling after you’ve closed a sale. Take the first ‘yes’.”

“You ready?”

“You mean, now?”

“You got some other pressing social engagement scheduled in the next hour? Plus, we’re literally sitting on a bed together, potentially naked.”

“A whole hour?” Ben said. “The fuck?”

“Already told you. Ciara said he’s crazy good at this. Unlike some husbands I could mention.”

She leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “Kiss me.”

Fuck it. Never do anything half-assed you can do fully-assed.

I turned to face Janelle and pulled her against with my chest, which I assume she was thinking of as breasts. Teased her with my lips barely touching her full lips bearing a glossy coat of bright crimson red. “Hey, beautiful,” I murmured, quietly enough that Ben couldn’t hear.

She whispered back, “I’ve never kissed a woman before.” She pressed her lips against mine, her dark eyes searching my face.

We held the kiss a while, then I kissed away from her lips and across her cheek, feeling her soft breasts sliding against my smaller hard breasts. When I got to her ear, I nibbled on the lobe and then all the way around the rim. I heard her catch her breath. I breathed heat slowly into the center opening. “It’s like kissing a man, but without the urgency. Something to linger over and enjoy for itself. Rather than rush through so you can bang out an orgasm and fall asleep, farting and snoring.”

Her body shook with suppressed laughter with a tinge of sadness in the soft breath that escaped. I touched her cheek, and felt wetness. A single tear, whether of laughter or sadness or some other emotion I couldn’t tell, not seeing her face.

“Tell me what you want. I don’t know your desires or your body’s needs. Let me know what I can do to make you feel better.”

She slid her tongue against the inner folds of my other ear a moment. Caressing, teasing, the tip of her tongue barely hinting at penetration. Perhaps showing what she wanted me to do to the softer folds of her labia.

“Undress me, oh so slowly, taking your time. I have a surprise waiting for my girlfriend, one I rushed home early to give you.”

Ben, you sorry bastard. This was a wonderful gift for you, and you carelessly trampled on it.

I gently kissed my temporary girlfriend’s neck, making her sigh with pleasure. I slowly lifted her bespoke dark grey wool jacket off her shoulders and her arms. She put her arms behind her to help me ease the fine material off, as if she was also surrendering to my gentle touch, her hands behind her as if in submission. When I got the jacket off her, I started to rise.

She put a hand on my shoulder to stop me and whispered, “Where are you going, Jamie? Don’t leave me alone, not for a moment. I need this.”

“Just to carefully put the suit away. It’s too beautiful to sully. It should be treasured, like you.”

“Toss it toward the foot of the bed. That’s for others to handle, so we can spend our time together.”

“As you wish, gorgeous.” I flung it away.

Janelle looked away from me, presumably at Ben. “Pick it up,” she commanded. “Hang it carefully, along with the rest of our clothes as we take them off.” A pause. “Now!” she said, not raising her voice, but with steel in her tone.

I heard Ben scramble to comply, as if he had rarely, if ever, heard this tone from her, but was afraid of the unaccustomed chill.

“Lay back on the bed,” I murmured, “so your girlfriend can remove your skirt and get closer to seeing your slim sexy body.”

“Yes, Jamie,” she said, in a tone so soft and yielding, it was hard to reconcile with the stern command moments ago. A woman longing, eager, to please her lover. Asking in return only to be cherished as she deserved to be.

I kissed her sweetly, her wavy dark hair slightly disheveled against the comforter. “Ease back, put your head on that pillow. And lift your hips, so I can remove your skirt, and view the loveliness underneath.”

“Yes,” my new lover sighed. She tilted her head up so her gorgeous eyes held mine, in the process baring the golden skin of her neck to me in submission. She lifted her hips while slightly spreading her thighs, tantalizingly. “Please.”

I eased her business skirt off and flung it over my shoulder. Not looking to confirm Ben was waiting, anticipating our needs in advance like a well-trained butler, hanger in hand.

I exhaled a gasp of breath in surprise at the sexy loveliness revealed. Her black stockings, not mere pantyhose as I had thought, were hooked to her panties by garter belts. The panties were made of a lacy, almost transparent wisp of charcoal gray silk-looking material. The same conservative color of her suit, but transmuted into something bolder and more sensual by the fabric and design. And by the triangle of curly black pubic hair not fully covered by the transparent gray, with a border of stray curls peeking out of the edges.

I caught a whisper of her pussy’s perfume, and leaned down to breath it in. Iifted the bottom of the pink silky dress shirt I had not yet gotten to removing. Her aroma was a tantalizing musky yet feminine scent. I touched my nose against the silk, and took a deep breath of the heavenly perfume — and then it all clicked into place. The darkness of her eyes, and gorgeous curly black hair. The slightly olive skin and the darkness of the skin around her pubic mound. And especially her heart-stopping scent.

I looked up from the aromatic beauty of her pussy, into Janelle’s dark eyes, and said, “You’re part black?”

She held her fingers apart a couple inches. “An eighth. Great-grandmother fell in love with a white man in Texas in the 50s. Couldn’t marry, obviously, not then. Not there. How could you tell?”

“I’m intimately familiar with the heavenly scent of a black pussy. More subtle and understated in you than Ciara. But that just makes me want to inhale it even deeper to get my fix.”

She looked at me, her eyes glittering with merriment. “Still wondering if you should be doing this?”

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Oh, I fully intend to rub it in all over your face, girlfriend. I’ve been eyeing you since I met you, wondering. But until today… we had friendship, and marriages. I was happy and committed to my life, never thinking I’d feel the pain of betrayal.”

“I’m so sorry, if–”

She reached down and put a finger on my lips. “Jamie, don’t. Shhh. This is our time together. Hush up and undress me. Help me feel good again, sweetie. I need this so much.”

I gave the finger on my lips a playful couple of licks, kissed it. Then I slowly started unbuttoning her pink shirt, from the bottom up. Kissing the creamy olive skin revealed by each button. “Don’t be in a hurry. I like to take my time, tease, make it last.”

I kissed up her firm belly, so different from the voluptuous softness of Ciara’s tummy, enjoying the change. Eventually I undid the top button. Nudged her torso up enough that I could slide her shirt off and toss it over my back. Her smaller B cup breasts, encased in the same charcoal gray silk lace as her panties, were beautiful, as were Ciara’s brown DD breasts. Two quite different physiques, but both sexy and desirable and inviting. Janelle’s hard athleticism versus my wife’s plump lushness. I could see through the wispy gray fabric that her areolas were in proportion to her breasts, moderately sized but not huge like Ciara’s. I could see a trace of Janelle’s African ancestry: Her areolas were a darker brown than you would expect from the light olive color of her breasts, and the surprisingly large nipples darker yet, a deep brownish umber.

I kissed with my lips and grazed my teeth over her breasts. The thin gray bra was maddeningly in the way of tasting her skin, yet so sexy looking that I didn’t want to rush to remove it. I nipped at the erect nipples pushing at the fabric. She yipped then gasped with pleasure as my tongue flicked rapidly over the nubs, first the left side then the right. She arched her back and thrust her nipples up, wanting more.

I teased her by moving off her nipples quicker than she desired. Licking up to her throat and around her neck. Tickling her and causing her to squeal and lean her head against her shoulder to prevent further access to her neck. Which left her open to a flanking move as I swiftly licked around to the other side of her neck. I bit that soft skin. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to cause her to grab my hair and pull me away. Her wicked dark eyes with long black lashes met my amused gaze.

“You bad girl! Don’t leave a mark.”

In the process of moving up her torso, my body had nudged her legs farther apart. I responded to her faux rebuke by moving up to nibble on her lower lip. Her lipstick was that bright crimson that had earlier added a lively splash of color to contrast with the corporate charcoal gray of the suit I had removed.

I was now in position to rub my black pantie clad bulge against her wettened panties.

“Aaaah! You naughty girl, your big clit feels so good rubbing mi–”

I muffled her feminine characterization of my stiffness by covering her lips with mine and slipping my tongue inside. Her red lipstick lubricated and mixed with the pale pink lipstick I wore. She wrapped her arms around my back and held me tight as we shared this lovely intimacy. I ground into her wetness lower down.

“Don’t try to push inside me, Jamie.”

“Is that even possible during lesbian sex?”

“Of course not, I forgot. My sweet girl, your body feels so good against mine.”

“Tell me what you want next. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“I want you to leisurely kiss and touch me, heading back down but detouring around my pussy. From my head all the way to my toes.”

I gave her a pleased growl at this delightful itinerary. I kissed her at her hairline, down to her forehead, then downward in a meandering unpredictable path. My hands were kneading — my fingertips and nails touching and lightly scratching — her skin. The skin to either side of where my lips and tongue caressed her light olive smooth skin. She gave me a soundtrack to accompany this unhurried journey, gasps of delight and sighs of pleasure. Purring and growls.

I paused midway to inhale the scent of her pussy, my lips tickled by gray lace covering her trimmed pussy hair. Lingering, until she grabbed my hair and yanked me further down onto the agenda she’d laid out.

I playfully retaliated by snapping the thin black straps holding her stockings to her panties. She symbolically slapped my face for my insolence, not enough to hurt at all.

I kneaded her thighs and her calves through the stockings, and then made Janelle sigh and writhe from an expert footrub.

When she was thoroughly distracted, I roughly flipped her on her flat belly as she squealed with surprise, then reversed the journey back up her body. I paused to squeeze and knead Janelle’s firm little booty, so much like mine. Her lovely valley was surprisingly dark, another hint of her black great-grandmother. Then suddenly I ran my tongue into and up the cleft between those lovely globes, to be greeted by a high pitched squeak and her hands reaching behind her and batting at me to desist. She jolted twice in rapid succession as my tongue on its stealth mission slipped over the back of her outer labia and then her crinkled hole. I got the distinct impression the resistance was more of the ‘not yet’ persuasion rather than an absolute prohibition. I’d never had as much success with this manuever with my wife, since CIara’s wonderfully huge and jiggly booty made a swift stealth incursion problematic. Plus, she had a lot greater inhibition about me touching her dark brown arsehole with any part of my body, much less something as supple and skilled as my tongue.

After several wonderful detours, including tickling the erotic zone at the back of her elbows, I straddled her hips. I slowly ground my panty-clad crotch into her tight booty. I kneaded her back and shoulders one-handed while running my spare hand through her wavy curls and kneading her scalp in rhythm with the backrub. She was sighing with contentment, and purring like a tigress with just a trace of a growl.

Such hair touching was a hazardous endeavor with most black women, without first obtaining an arbitrarily revokable signed explicit consent in triplicate. But Janelle’s ambiguous relationship with identifying as a black woman emboldened me to touch her wondrously springy wavy curls without asking for permission.

After a leisurely back rub, with her voice muffled by her face resting against the comforter, my lesbian-ish lover finally said, “I’m ready. Lick my pussy now.”

I conspicuously ignored this suggestion for a while, teasing her. So she flipped herself onto her back, grabbed my hair, and roughly forced me down to her heavenly aroma to only token resistance.

“My pussy! Lick it! Now!”

“You forgot ‘please’.”

“Please lick my fucking cunt already!”

“Was that so diff–“. The rest of my insubordinate remark was muffled by my face being ground into her sopping wet panties.

I detached the garter belts from her panties and stockings, then yanked the sodden panties down her long slim legs and tossed them behind me. I heard what sounded like a long deep breath back there, as if Ben was holding his wife’s panties against his nose and inhaling her aroused essence.

Which was distinctly against any code of conduct for ‘hastily pressed into duty butlers doing penance’ that I could imagine.

His wife’s pussy hairs tickled my nose as I teased her. I breathed in her scent while resisting to urge to dive in and lick her dark sex.

Janelle put her hand on the back of my neck and nudged me until my lips touched her wetness. I gently kissed her dark inner lips, then oh so slowly licked up until my tongue touched her small aroused clit peeking out of the hood.

Her hips jolted upwards at the touch as she said, “Aaaaaaaahhhhh, yeeesss.”

I held my tongue still, waiting for it.

“Pleeeaaaassse!”

At this reluctant acknowledgment that I was her sexual partner here, not a slave to be commanded, I flicked my tongue tip rapidly against her clit. I plunged my index finger deep inside her cunt while my thumb tapped her puckered black arsehole, keeping time with my tongue.

She went crazy, bucking up into my face and wrapping her legs tightly around my neck so I couldn’t break free — not that I wanted to. Janelle was wailing and screaming as she slid closer and closer to her orgasm. I slowed what I was doing to her clit and pussy and arsehole. Edging her. Bringing her to the brink again and again, frankly being a little mean about it. Showing her who owned her pleasure, with the power to deny or give her ecstasy at my whim. Her drug pusher, waiting for her to submit and beg for it.

When she couldn’t take it any more, thrashing around and scraping my lips, which were still recovering from licking Ciara’s pussy last night… as she frantically humped into me, I murmured, “Look at me.”

Her beautiful eyes looked down the length of her tight belly into mine. Wanting me to give her the gift I desperately desired to supply. But knowing she needed me to first make her surrender and beg.

“Where’s your manners?” I said in a dry amused tone.

“Pllllllllleeeeeeeeaaaaaaassssseeeee! Ohmygod, gimme it!”

I dipped and rolled my thumb in the lubricating juices flowing out of her engorged labia. I pushed my thumb into her butt and slid it all the way to the second knuckle.

She screamed from the mingled pain and pleasure while my tongue flicked her hard black button as fast as I could. Her orgasm crested, and then went on and on. Waves of pleasure racking her body in the kind of multi-orgasmic bliss that guys are utterly incapable of.

“Holy fuck,” I heard Ben growl behind me.

Eventually she gasped out, “Enough,” in her beautiful voice. As if she was wiped out and needed to rest from the extreme cardio workout.

I froze. Stopped moving everything. Her pussy and butt still enveloping my finger and thumb, but no longer spasming and squeezing them.

She gasped for oxygen until she had gotten her breath back, still looking lovingly into my eyes. “Thank you,Jamie. That was so amaz–”

I was affectionately squeezing a slim hard buttock with my unsullied hand, making her think we were in the aftercare part of the festivities.

Then cut off her sentence by resuming. Forcing her towards another wave of orgasms, setting her off with her uncontrollable thrashing around. She made a lot of gratifying noises for a long time. She’d unlocked her legs from my neck a while ago, no longer trying to entrap me into further lickage.

Then, I stopped again. Amused, looking her in her awestruck but faintly embarrassed eyes as she panted for breath. “You’re quite the slutty lesbian, ain’t cha?”

“You,” she gasped, then bit her lower lip. “Jamie. Get your fi–”

“Is that the tone you really wanna use on me?” Aaaannndd, back to driving her crazy.

Quite a while later, my lips were chafed to the point of bleeding, my jaws and tongue were sore.

I should quit now, I thought. Except this might be my only time I ever get to do this to her — aaah, fuck it.

I rose my head up, and extricated my fingers from what I assumed were some sore and aching holes. “Was that OK?” I said, all faux innocence.

She narrowed her eyes, not quite trusting that I was done.

I crawled up next to her and pulled her onto her side so we were face to face. Kissed her gently, just a touch of my sore lips to her, and pulled her into a hug. “You OK?”

“That was fucking awesome!”

“Good.” A short pause while my fingertips trailed down her spine. “Are WE good?”

Her hand slipped off my back and gave my buttocks a reassuring squeeze. “All forgiven, Jamie. You my sweet niggah girl.” She looked at me, wanting reciprocation.

“You know I can’t say the N-word.”

“I’m a proud black woman,” she said. “Even if Ben doesn’t think so. You got my permission to use it as a term of endearment right now. If you’re feeling it.”

“Then, you my sweet niggah, too.”

We cuddled a while, light kisses, easing down from her ragged highs.

“You need something?” she eventually asked.

“Just this.”

“You gonna go home and fuck the hell outta Ciara?”

“If she’ll let me. If she doesn’t first ask some question I gotta answer, then divorce my ass.”

“I’ll talk to her. Smooth the way. But you know you gotta tell her everything. Sooner rather than later.”

“Thank you. You’re a great friend.”

I glanced over at Ben, who was sitting on the pillow-tossing chair with this pensive, almost anxious look. Watching us whisper. “You gonna forgive him?”

“Don’t know. He’s on probation. Least I ain’t ready to divorce him. Today.”

Thanks for reading pls vote or comment