Julie Ch. 02

Swirling in front of the full-length mirror, admiring myself, I checked out the "little black dress" that all well-dressed women must have in order to complete a well-rounded wardrobe. A slight flared hem stopping just north of my knees, matching heels and a single strand around my slender neck completed the picture.

I'd had my hair piled-up earlier at the hairdresser's and she'd left a few stylish tendrils flying around my face. I thought I looked sexy. Apparently, so did my husband. Mark came up behind me, looking handsome in his tux. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling my butt against his groin. He nuzzled my neck, biting my ear playfully.

"You look hot," he said.

I rolled my ass against him suggestively. "You want to be late?"

He backed away, laughing. "It took me fifteen minutes to tie the damned bowtie and get into this tux. I don't dare take anything off. How 'bout a rain-check until after the party?"

It'd been two months since my trip to Manhattan - my one and only extramarital affair with a total stranger. The whole thing had been unexpected, unplanned, and must've amounted to something like all the planets being lined up in some strange and mysterious manner that caused such abnormal behavior in an otherwise devoted and faithful wife. That's the only way I can explain it. I agree, it doesn't make sense to me either but despite that awful chapter in my life I had somehow managed to put it behind me and guiltily continue my married life relatively unscathed.

Ever since straying from the narrow path however, I have gone overboard to please Mark in any way I could. If he wanted sex right now I'd simply slip out of my little black dress and mess up my expensive hair-do. After my disgraceful conduct during that trip I owed him that much.

"The partners will be there, plus a couple new clients. Mr. Scott will also be coming. He can be an insufferable bore, but just ignore him staring at your cleavage every time he gets a chance. If we get the little toad's account we'll increase our bottom line by thirty percent."

I didn't care for Mark's parties. They were almost always large stuffy affairs, but if he wanted me to go and look pretty I owed him that much. We showed up fashionably late, was handed a wine glass by a pretty girl in a short maid's outfit, and I took the opportunity to glance around the mansion's large ball-room.

The usual people were there, Mark's two business partners, Thomas and Barry. Barry was senior partner and owned the expansive mansion their partnership held all these type parties. It was just a big ugly place with nice lawn manicuring, as far as I was concerned. I much preferred our house in the gated community to this.

I saw Barry's trophy wife and her younger tramp sister, both in low-cut gowns with a cluster of men around them as usual. There were some company senior staff members, our attorney and his wife, and a few close friends of the three partners. The ones I didn't know were probably the new clients Mark mentioned, or some of the other staff I hadn't met. Men wore either black tux or white dinner jackets. The women were in gowns or little black dresses like mine. Shit, we were all so predictable.

Mark led me straight to a group of three men; I recognized Barry and our attorney, but not a short, overweight man with thick wet lips. I already knew this must be Mr. Scott because his eyes never left my bosom as Mark introduced us. His hand felt damp and limp. Everything about him looked damp and limp. After a few too long minutes of making small talk and never making eye contact with Mr. Scott, my husband took my elbow and led my away to meet other people.

"What a despicable little troll," I whispered.

Mark laughed. "That despicable little troll is worth about a billion dollars, and if we get his account tonight I won't have to work so hard."

A different girl with a tray of drinks took our half-filled glasses and gave us fresh ones in return as Mark led me toward another group. It was the one with Barry's wife and her sister. Ugh. There were four men in the group, all I imagined, trying to smell the sister's panties and be the lucky one to get into them this evening. It was the worst kept secret in the crowd that Barry's friends were getting more from his bride and her sister, than he was.

The sisters weren't too coy about it either. That's what made being in their company so uncomfortable, I guess. All but one of the men had their backs toward us and I recognized the firm's accountant, a young Hispanic from Cuba, who looked like he could be a professional dancer.

One of the others was very tall and muscular, mocha-skinned, with short buzz-cut. As the other two turned to greet us, I saw they also worked for the firm. I wasn't prepared for the third guy, the tall one, nearly dropping my wine glass as Mark said, "Julie, I want you to meet Paul, our newest client. He wised up and came over to us about a month ago from Manhattan. Paul, my wife Julie."

Through the loud ringing inside my head as my small hand was swallowed in his large warm one, I heard Paul's deep voice, "Well you said she was a beauty, Mark, but I can see now that your assessment was grossly understated."

I could barely breathe as I tried calming my runaway heartbeat. My hands trembled slightly as I took a sip of wine to collect my thoughts and gain strength in my shaky legs. I must have said all the right things but don't remember much of our "introduction." After getting through the denial phase of Paul's actually being here, I found that along with my acceptance of it, was a growing anger.

As I collected my thoughts I saw Tammy the Vamp, move closer to Paul and her sister take Mark's arm stating he should "Help her find another drink somewhere."

Upon their departure, the group went back to small talk, and I intentionally did not meet Paul's eyes. I did see Tammy's long leg brushing against Paul's leg repeatedly in invitation, and for some reason I wanted to scratch her eyes out. Suddenly Paul reached out and grasped my elbow firmly.

"Speaking of drinks, my Lady, it looks like we both need a refill. Come on, I'll help you find a waiter," he said leading me away from the group. Tammy had already moved closer to the young Cuban.

Paul snagged two wineglasses as the maid walked past, maneuvered us into a corner and waited. "You bastard," I hissed. "You fucking bastard."

"Good to see you, too. You look beautiful."

I wasn't going to be placated by his smooth voice. "What are you doing here, Paul? What were you thinking?"

After that last evening I'd spent being fucked half to death by Paul in my hotel room, I arose the following morning and flushed the business card he'd left. I intentionally did not memorize his phone number or his last name. I did not want to remember it after I'd returned home because I knew the temptation to call him would be far too great for me after what I'd experienced with him those two nights in Manhattan.

As it was, I'd nearly climbed the walls dreaming about him, fantasizing about what we'd done, wanting him so much it was difficult to function. Somehow I had gotten past the hard part, put it behind me and worked even harder to make my marriage work. Now, here he was.

"You stalked me, didn't you?"

"Yes. But let me explain please. You got under my skin. I couldn't think about being with anyone else after you left, so I got a copy of the conference schedule and tracked you down. I didn't intend to do anything about it. I just wanted to know you were alright. I found your husband's firm on the NET and saw they were looking for companies like mine for clients. I called Barry and things just developed."

"Well, un-fucking-develop-them, then."

"Can't," Paul smiled. "I signed a three year contract."

"You . . . you . . ."

"Bastard?" he smiled.

I saw Mark looking my way with a puzzled expression. When I laughed like Paul had just said something funny, he smiled and turned back to his conversation with Mr. Scott. The whole scene took on a surreal affect as I stood there alone with Paul, and sixty other people moving around us engaged in their own world.

Paul jolted me back when he said, "I fell for you, Julie. You don't have to worry about me upsetting the apple cart for you. I won't pressure you for any kind of relationship. I just want to be close, to see you once in a while like this and know that you're happy. I give you my word."

I glared at him some more, then walked away. I could feel him staring at my back. Barry came over, hitting on me as always. He'd give anything to get into my pants, but he knew that was never going to happen. That didn't stop him from trying every time he was alone with me, though.

"That big black guy coming on to you?" he said, twitching an eyebrow like Groucho Marx. "You know what they say about them guys."

""Is sex the only thing you have on your mind, Barry?"

"It is when I'm around you."

Mark saw me alone with Barry and knew what went on, so I gave him the high sign. He walked over. "Barry, let me dance with my bride."

We danced a slow song, talking about Barry's distasteful behavior, and Mr. Scott wanting to get together at his hotel room after the party. Mark said, "It's a thirty minute drive to his hotel, so Paul offered to drive you home since he's staying at the resort nearby. I'll be a couple hours, but I think Scott is ready to sign." The song ended and he walked back to join Mr. Scott's crowd again before I could even protest.

Things began breaking up just before midnight. I was trying to dodge Barry behind the huge ice sculpture, when I saw Mark coming toward me with Paul in tow. "Here's your ride," he said with a grin.

"Oh that's not necessary, really," I replied. "I can just as easily catch a cab home. I don't want to put anyone out."

"Nonsense, Hon. Paul is only ten minutes away, and I don't trust cabs late at night."

If he only knew who he could trust, I thought. It seemed settled, so I found myself walking to Paul's rented auto a few minutes later. It was a large luxury model, and it had to be for his size. He opened my door and I hesitated. "No hanky-panky, Paul."

"Absolutely," he promised.

"I mean it."

"I know you do. I'll behave. Haven't I all night?"

I got in and stared out my window, motionless. Hardly a word was spoken during the fifteen minute drive to my house, but I could feel him sitting next to me, his heat radiating, his cologne caressing my nostrils, sensing the movement of his hands as he drove. I wondered if he could hear my heart pounding away inside my chest, sense my arousal, or more likely, smell me.

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and felt myself flushing. His brown face was etched in stone, the large pools of his dark eyes staring unblinkingly at the night road, hands gripping the wheel as if afraid to relax them. I could see the stress was as bad for him as I was for me. My gaze drifted downward and I could also see I wasn't the only one aroused.

God help me get home quickly, I silently pleaded.

"Julie . . ."

"Please, Paul. Don't . . ."

He drove in silence after that as I screamed inside my head that I would not let anything happen between us. It would not!

Paul pulled up in my drive and turned off the key. The house looked dark and forbidding and I could see I'd forgotten to leave the porch light on. Paul got out and opened my door before I could protest. "I'll walk you to the door," he stated. "Once you're safely inside, I'll leave."

We have a long sidewalk entry with scrubs lining both sides clothed in shadows, and his hand on my arm suddenly felt reassuring. Inside the portico it was nearly dark because the streetlights didn't shine there, so I fumbled for my cell phone to turn off the alarm. I found it and punched in the code. He stood so close I could feel his body heat, smell him, making my knees tremble.

Then I simply gave up the struggle. With a small cry I threw myself into his arms, our open mouths crushing together hungrily - tongues touching, rolling and playing together happily. Paul groaned his need into my open mouth. I tasted his warm breath, drinking it in, licking, biting sucking his mouth hungrily unable to halt the sounds escaping my throat. I felt his strong hands on my butt, pulling me against the wooden spike pressing against my stomach.

We were like two starving animals who'd suddenly found a pool of cool water, drinking deeply of it. We kissed for a long time.

Weak in the knees, gasping for breath I finally pushed him away, turned and quickly opened the door. "Come inside before someone drives past," I told him.

He stepped inside, closed the door and roughly pulled me against him again, his hungry mouth seeking mine. His mouth, his tongue his lips tasted delicious, and I realized I'd been starving for them all night. He kissed me until I was weak, his lips finding that sensational spot at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

He licked down to my cleavage as I hastily pulled the black dress down to give him better access. He lifted me, sucked in a nipple into his mouth and bit it softly as I cried out, clutching the back of his head. Wrapping one leg around his to pull his hardness tighter against my crotch, I moaned with pleasure.

He was dominant in his needs - taking control. I was submissive, but I'm doubtful I could've stopped him even if I'd wanted to, which I didn't. I pressed my hands against his chest, pushing away as his face registered confusion, frustration. I smiled and held out my hand, he took it and I led him up the stairs to my bedroom. I could no more stop this act now then I could've stopped the world from spinning.

I walked to the center of the room and dropped the black dress in a puddle around my feet. The bra and panties followed. Crawling into the middle of the king-sized bed I shared with my husband, I sit and watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, discarding his trousers and shorts, the long hard shaft between his legs jerking upward as it was released from its confines. I realized my mouth was watering.

He climbed onto the foot of the bed and I hurriedly crawled to meet him, my hungry mouth finding his cock, sucking it in. I was so excited I felt as if I would pass out, trembling all over, my mind empty except for what I was doing. Nothing in the world mattered except the huge piece of warm mahogany meat I was struggling to get all the way down my working throat.

I fought to keep from swooning, as light-headedness threatened to overcome me. Choking and gagging I pulled off, took a deep breath and swallowed it again. I sucked until slobbers ran down the sides of my face, dripping onto the bed spread. I didn't care. All I wanted was to force his ejaculation, taste it on my tongue, swallow it, letting him know that I was his - his to do whatever he wanted. I groaned in frustration as I felt him pushing me off, pulling my joy from my mouth, pushing me onto my back.

"I want that pussy," he gritted out. "I've been dreaming about it for two months."

I opened my legs, making it easier for him as he inched forward and placed the head of his cock at my opening, holding it there. "Yes," I whispered. "Yes, do me. Make love to me."

Paul grinned down at me. "I'm not gonna make love to you woman. I'm gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop."

"Then fuck me! Hurry!"

And he did. He slammed that big black cock into me so hard it scooted me several inches toward the headboard. I screamed as he hammered into me once, twice, three times. I could tell he still wasn't all the way in because it didn't bang into my exposed cervix like before. I knew it would though before we were through. He paused, staring down at me.

"Miss that black cock, Baby?"

I whimpered, too overcome to get a single word out. He pulled all the way out, held my hips and hammered into me again as he pulled my hips up to meet his thrust. This time he hit bottom and I cried out in pain - but there was pleasure too, and the pleasure far outweighed any discomfort I felt. He settled into a rhythm, resting with his elbows locked, hands on each side of my head.

I picked up his rhythm, lifting and rolling my ass with his manipulations, making little sounds of pleasure as he stroked his foot-long cock into my vulnerable womb. I stared up at his glistening black face, the strain and urgency there, matching my own. Right then I admitted to myself that I loved this man. I belonged to him. Then that thought slid away, replaced by the explosion building in the pit of my belly.

"You're mine," he said softly. I didn't answer, concentrating on my expanding orgasm. He drove his cock into me like a bolt of lightning. "Say it!"

"Yes," I whispered. "I'm yours. I'm your woman."

He grinned, redoubling his efforts, and I climaxed in a kaleidoscope of colors and explosions racking my body over and over again as I clung to Paul, sobbing, trying to climb his body as I clutched him between my legs and with both arms. Somehow his mouth found mine and I sobbed into it. "Paul . . . oh god . . . yes, please . . ." I don't know what I was pleading for, my words becoming incoherent as my mind slipped away into darkness.

Later as we lay gasping for breath, I whispered, "I'm dead. You killed me."

He laughed softly. "Not yet, but I plan to fuck you to death given time."

I found enough strength to throw one leg over his body, snuggling closer against his wet chest. I licked a drop of sweat running down his nipple, savoring it. Paul finally stirred and crawled out of bed as I reached for him in an attempt to keep him from leaving.

"Look at the clock, Baby. Out of time. Hubby will be here anytime and my car is in his driveway."

I knew he was right but I was still disappointed we wouldn't have all night to explore each other. Dressed, he sat on the side of the bed and pulled me close once more, kissing my hair, face, eyes and lips softly. "I'll call you tomorrow and we'll talk."

A short time later I heard his car start up and drive away. I lay stunned and still quivering from the high he'd given me, feeling his cum oozing from my used opening. I suddenly wanted to rub it all over my body, to mark myself as belonging to him. What I really needed to do was get up go to the bathroom and clean up, but I still felt too weak to move. I'd take a few minutes to rest first. I dozed off and twenty minutes later, Mark arrived.

Pretending sleep, I heard him undressing in the bathroom. Shit, I hoped the bedroom and I didn't still smell like sex! Then I heard him stagger and bang against the nightstand trying to get into bed. He was drunk. I lay motionless, pretending to be sleeping, praying he was too drunk to realize his loving wife had just fucked another man in his own bed, like a common whore. God, the sheets were still damp! Rough hands groped me, grabbing my breasts, pulling the nipples until I moaned in pain.

"Hi baby, I'm home. We got the sonofabitch's signature on the fucking dotted line!"

A wet kiss slid over my lips as I moaned softly, pretending to be still half-asleep, hoping he'd relent and leave me alone just for this one night. That wasn't going to happen, as he slid his hand down my body, cupping my vagina and squeezing roughly.

"Ah, what's this? Baby's wet. Waiting for hubby, huh?" His words were slurred as though he were speaking around a swollen tongue. His wet mouth sucked on my nipples for a few moments, then licked down my stomach toward my recently used vagina. In panic, I clutched his hair and attempted to pull him back up.

"Ooooh, Honey," I moaned in faked passion. "Just fuck me hard. I need it so bad."

He was simply too strong and in his drunken state, too insistent. His mouth finally attached itself to my sloppy pussy, devouring it. I could hear him slurping and licking loudly as I felt my stomach lurch, as though I might be sick. I didn't want this. I didn't want to intentionally degrade my husband! Okay, I'm a bitch but not that much of one! Tears flooded my eyes as I fought back a sob, but then something else threatened to invade my thoughts.