AN EROTIC RESOLUTION (3)

Chapter 3

What was I supposed to say? That he was more handsome than my husband, or that the outline of his cock in his pants showed that he was bigger than my husband.

Could I tell him that I was feeling an equal measure of arousal and anxiety? That I didn’t know if I was meant to walk to him and slip my hands into the band of his black pants, or slip to my knees and take his cock in my mouth.

I hadn’t fucked anyone since I got married, and this encounter was stranger than I thought it would be. So, I opened my mouth like a fish gasping for breath.

Between trying to respond and emptying the champagne down my dry throat, he appeared in front of me.

His chest was bare like Wolverine, all hard muscle and black hair. I backed against the wall I had been standing on but couldn’t run. I envied the way my heart was running at that moment. But really, did I want to run from him or to him?

“I know that this is strange for you,” he said as he slipped the chain handle of my purse off my shoulder, letting my purse clatter noisily to the carpeted floor. It reminded me of what I had been noticing about him, a gentle brusqueness, a brusque gentleness. It’s something my husband no longer had. I love how Frank respected me and treated me with kindness like a woman, his wife, but I missed the feeling of possession, a rough edginess.

“I’ll lead; just follow.”

I found myself nodding. Not once. Twice like some penitent schoolgirl. I held my breath as the folds between my legs throbbed. What had I gotten myself into?

There was just something about his manner that made me want to do everything he said.

Or maybe it was the urgency in his voice, the hunger in his eyes. I gulped my response. His other hand rescued the champagne flute from me. I jumped as the glass thudded against the table.

Our faces were inches away from each other. It was so close that I could smell the champagne on his breath and something like bubble gum, a watermelon flavour. So close that I could feel his body heat.

He covered the distance between us so that his length was pressing against my thighs, his chest crushing my perky nipples. I could tell he could feel the tattoo, the crazy slam, my heartbeat had turned to. I tried to wriggle away. But I realized I was between a hard wall and a rock-hard body. I was trapped.

Again, I remember how no man had invaded this personal distance except my husband in the past two years. It felt strange and exciting, and my knees were slowly turning to jelly.

He had told me his name when we dabbled in small talk as we planned this tryst, but I could no longer remember. I doubt if I could even remember mine or even where I was.

I was so starved of a dick, yet too conscious of being with a hot stranger, that I felt like someone having a split personality disorder.

Pleasures shot through my body as he lifted my face with one finger towards his hard lips.

“Before we do this, I want you to tell me you agreed to avoid awkwardness.”

He was right; that was the phrase I told him when we began chatting after we were matched.

“Ye…yes.”

His lips covered mine immediately. It was the speed of two opposite magnet poles. Why had he asked such questions when he was this hungry for me?

Excitement washed over my body. Frank, my husband, desired me, but this was another level. This was the desire an addict had for a fix. It was a get-fixed or die without it.

My hands rose to his sides. Trembling hands resting on rock-hard muscle. His hands cradled my face. His hardness burned through the material separating our skins. I could feel it throb, rising and falling as though it was begging to be released from a cage.

‘Fuck Chloe… you’re sweeter than I thought,” he groaned against my lips. I love a man that can curse. Frank stopped cursing after we got married. I didn’t mind that he called me by the wrong name. We were technically cheating on our partners. This was a hook-up or a test run, as I called it.

He, too, was as sweet as I had imagined, and it made me want to ask why he was married and also a member of the swinger’s community. Why would he agree to share himself with another woman? Would I feel comfortable seeing Frank do the same thing to his wife? Was this really a test run when my husband and this stranger’s wife weren’t here?

The sparks that exploded in my head when his invading fingers swept the sleeves of my dress off my shoulders wiped away every other thought from my mind. It felt like my body was the sulphur tip of a match.

I managed to spread my legs and pushed my throbbing pussy against his bulge, trapping his tongue with my lips.

I let the sleeve of my dress fall from my shoulder as he fumbled with the other. I did this partly because I wanted my skin to touch his, but also because I didn’t want him to rip my clothes off with the force with which he was tugging at my sleeves.

He stepped aside just before my little black dress fell to our feet. We reached for each other as though suddenly realizing that time was counting. My hand dropped to his craggy chest. His fingers slipped under my bra straps.

Before I knew it, my bra found its way to the heap that was my dress, and I suddenly began to wonder if he had contested for the fastest finger in taking off bras. I should be self-conscious, embarrassed even because I am topless before a man who isn’t Frank, but my eyes are shut like a votive worshipper as our lips continue their tango.

Suddenly, he pulled away, and I wondered what I had done until I saw his eyes fall on my bosom.

“Fucking gorgeous boobs girl.”

“Yeah…” I stuttered, wondering what would I have said. “Thank you.” Or, “Those are my boobs?”

Suddenly, I’m scooped off the floor with one arm. It is a reminder that I am petite, and just as I am gasping, a warm mouth captures my left nipple. I tossed my head back, shut my eyes and grabbed a hold of his strong shoulders for support. My vagina is a wet, messy, throbbing region of sensitive flesh. I can even feel cum slide down my legs.

I’m slammed against the wall, impaled with his hard body as my left areola is sucked vigorously. Before I worry about falling, a strong arm slips underneath my ass, and another hand finds my right boob.

Had he suddenly become an octopus? How does he manage to hold me, suck a nipple, and fondle my other breast?

The pleasure rushing through my body doesn’t allow me to process the thought or even open my eyes to see the tenth wonder of the world.

Again, he pulls away. And as I am opening my eyes, he says, “I think we would do better on the bed.” It’s like an order, so I don’t bother responding. I want my wet panties off, I want his strong arms cradling my hips, and I want his cock in my vagina.

I am carried like a rag doll. My boobs are in his face, his strong arms are wrapped around my hips, and my legs are wrapped around his waist.

‘Let’s just get to the fucking part,” he spits as though he is chiding himself and me for wasting time.

He slammed me against the bed, and as I opened my eyes, I was treated to a sight. His black pants slipped off his muscular legs, revealing he didn’t miss leg days at the gym.

My heart palpitated as a monstrosity stared at me from the black Calvins.

“I want that… I want,” I begged. I knew I would be embarrassed by my appeal later, but my mouth just spoke for the inaudible pussy lips. A girl just wanted what she wanted.

“Isn’t that why we are here?” Again, his voice rumbled as he slipped the briefs off his hips.

“This is what you will get in two days,” he said.

I spread my legs like some shameless whore.

“Just give me it now already,” I screamed as the cock sprung out of its enclosure. If I was lucid, I should have gasped, but I was steeped, buried deep in the web of this illicit affair.

I tugged my wet lace panties off my hips and flung them without looking.

“Give me,” I said with a voice that had transformed into a croak.

He made it as if he was going to impale me. And I didn’t mind. But he slipped to his knees and pulled my leg towards him.

“I want your dick, not your mouth,” I was desperate now. I have had enough fellatio.

“I’m going to give you everything; just be patient,” he growled, and before I protested, he slipped a finger and his tongue into my throbbing vagina.

My back arched, and my toes curled. It wasn’t what I wanted, but I couldn’t resist. His lips found my clitoris as though he was the one that left it there. He sucked and nibbled. It was the way my husband would do it. But it was better. There was a roughness but a preciseness.

“That’s it…. Good …god,” I mumbled jargons.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he said. “And you taste so fucking sweet,” he mumbled, and I could tell that his fingers were in his mouth.

For the next few minutes, I writhed and screamed as he sucked and finger fucked, and just when I thought I wouldn’t be getting his dick, he pulled his mouth away.

“Now, I will show you what to expect in two days.”

“Fuck you… fuck me,” I jabbered uncontrollably.

I held my breath for it and grabbed the sheets. I had waited for a dick, any hard dick, for so long I couldn’t afford to desecrate the moment by looking. I spread my legs so wide and pushed my hips towards him.

My world split into a thousand pieces when his cock invaded my hungry, wet pussy.