Trey Ch. 02

The approval in Trey's eyes when I slid out of my sweats and t-shirt and into his arms under the spray of the shower warmed me from the inside out. Reaching his hands out, he cupped my cheeks tilting my head back under the spray, letting the pulsating water work its magic on my jumpy nerves. I could feel his eyes on me. My cheeks burned, wishing I had the body of the models you see in the magazines and films. Stroking a soothing fingertip over my flushed skin, he tilted my face back to look into my eyes. His smile reassured me, and his kiss wiped everything else from my mind.

Oh, that kiss! Standing in the shower, warm water pouring down over us, the feel of his hands on my cheeks, fingertips tangled in my hair, I was lost. His smooth, sexy lips met mine, and retreated, only to come right back to me. A little harder, a little more insistent, nipping and licking at me, he controlled my every thought and action. The hiss of the shower, the feel of the water, the steam clouding the room—all of it fell away under the magnetism of that kiss. I spent a lifetime waiting for each brush of his lips, and hurtled through space at the speed of light with each brief contact. My breath was jagged and my pulse pounding by the time he finished playing with me and firmly pressed his lips to mine, delving into the warmth of my mouth and swallowing my whimpers, humming his approval of my shaky condition.

Deeper, deeper he plundered my mouth, one hand encircling my neck and holding me to his embrace, the other slipping down the smooth wetness of my shoulder to tug briefly at my hardened nipple before sliding over the curve of my waist to pull me up into the cradle of his hips. At this, our first, full-length, naked contact, I exploded. He swallowed my screams of passion, moaning deep in his throat at my uninhibited response, as my body shook and trembled its way through a mind-blowing orgasm. Turning my head to his shoulder, he kept his lips locked on mine while he held me close, letting me feel his response to my arousal as it twitched and trembled against my pale skin, seeking the source of heat that had sent gushes of my cream down over it where it rested between my thighs.

Holding me, soothing his hands over my quivering skin, he pressed soft, sweet kisses against me, knowing from our sessions of phone sex that I was having to forcibly concentrate on my breathing in order to do it. Burying his face in the curve between my neck and shoulder, he shivered and moaned, clasping me close in a hard, almost punishing embrace. Knowing what the sight and sound of my orgasms have done to him over the course of our long-distance affair, I could only imagine what the added feel and smell had done to his control. I smiled to myself. I liked it, knowing how his affecting me in turn affected him.

Finally marshalling my trembling body to some sense of control, I pulled him even closer against me, sighing at his exquisite body touching mine at long last. I slid my wet hands down the length of his back, memorizing the touch of each ridge and valley of muscle, thrilling at the strength so obvious to my questing hands. From shoulder to hip I stroked him, hands slicked by water, fingertips sensitized by arousal, sometimes scraping him gently with my nails and other times massaging him with powerful strokes of my palms. I don't know how long we stood like that—it may have been an eternity, or it may have been a heartbeat, but the sweetness, combined with the fire, mingled together to etch another memory in my mind, where I was fast collecting a storehouse of images for a rainy day.

Turning my lips to his neck, I placed soft, quick kisses there, feeling his pulse under my lips, then the clench of his muscle as he reacted to my touch. Tangling his hand in my hair, he tipped my face back, his expression one of determination and amusement. While the water beat a tattoo on the top of my head, he leaned down, kissed me quick and hard, and dropped his forehead against mine. Eye to eye, nose to nose, he smiled ruefully. Rocking his hips against me he let me feel that the power of his arousal hadn't diminished in the least. At my rough, moaning gasp, he smiled that cocky, self-assured smile I had come to love, and murmured that our first time was damn sure not going to be done in the shower, but rather in the bed just a few steps away. I bit back a cry of passion as his words sank into my mushy mind, and he shifted to hold me as my trembling knees weakened, threatening to drop us both to the floor of our steamy enclosure.

Visibly trembling with need, I whispered that we'd better get this shower done with, then. Reaching around him, I teased him with the feel of my wet breasts pressed tightly against him while I poured soap onto my scrubbie. Lightly I dragged it along his neck and down over his chest as I stepped back, enjoying the contrast of yellow material on black skin, leaving a trail of creamy white soap bubbles. My eyes burning with passion, I watched, mesmerized, as the soap swirled once, twice, again and again over that smooth, dark flesh, the erotic contrast setting off fireworks in my core. Helpless, I watched his hand reach up and cover mine, engulfing both it and my scrubbie. My cream dripped down my legs as his hand guided mine around and around, over his shoulders, along his neck, across his chest, over his stomach. Unnoticed, his other arm slid around my waist, pulling me up tightly to him, so now that soapy scrubbie was caressing both of us, his arm pressing against my breasts as he lathered both our bodies with bubbles.

Lost in the sight and feel of his ministrations, I don't remember when I first noticed he had flipped our hands over—but suddenly I realized that his hand was forcing mine to wash me, now. Over and over he traced patterns on my sensitized skin, first avoiding my pebbled nipples, then concentrating on them, until I wanted to scream from the torment. At some point he turned us in the shower and pressed me back against the cold tile wall, stepping into the cradle of my thighs, the cold at my back a direct contrast to his pulsating heat along my front. Mindless with passion, desperate to have him, but so enjoying his teasing touch, I spread my legs wider, offering myself to him, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip, pulling him ever closer to me. Uncaring where our first time was supposed to happen, I desperately begged for him to take me now, take what I was offering, take me and make me truly his, shape and stretch me to fit him before filling me with his seed, marking those previously untouched places within me as belonging solely to him.

With a cry of triumph I felt him rock against me, felt the velvety tip of his long, throbbing dick press against me, sliding along those creamy wet lips. Then, with a groan, he pulled back. I wanted to cry at his withdrawal. Frustrated, incredibly aroused, desperate to have what I'd dreamt of for so long, I stood there, whimpering and trembling while he shuddered in front of me, long, trembling vibrations that just made me ache all the more.

Through gritted teeth he ground out that he was serious—he wanted to have me first in a bed, so that we could touch and kiss and caress to our hearts' delight. He whispered that he wanted to make love to me that first time, then we could fuck like rabbits after. But my gallant knight, the man I had already shared so much of myself with, wanted to make love our first time. Shaken to my very core, scared of the tremble of pure pleasure that this thought raised in my already-married heart, I raised my hand, framed his sweet face, and kissed him with every bit of the love and lust I felt for him in my wickedly aroused body.

Turning him back to the spray of decidedly cooling water, I grabbed the scrubbie from between his clenched hands, rubbed it over my palms to get them soapy, and tossed it across the shower, not caring where it landed. Using the bubbly lather on my hands, I proceeded to caress his chest and shoulders, raising a creamy foam so delicious against his dark skin. Stepping into him, I slid my arms around his back, sweeping the last bits of lather over his neck and upper back while I rubbed and stroked my now-soapy breasts against his chest and stomach, twisting and stretching, the hard points of my nipples scraping gently against him while the creamy softness of my breasts gently molded to him. Pulling his head forward from under the spray, I tipped his neck until he was focused on the bubbles slipping and sliding over my cleavage to where the whiteness of my skin met the darkness of his, forming a pool of lather.

At his moan, I tilted my head and pressed a quick, deep kiss to his lips. Then I slid down the length of his sexy body 'til I was on my knees, looking up into the realization dawning in his eyes. With a feral smile of animal lust, I slid my hands up his thighs, one stopping to stroke the base of his swollen cock, the other sliding around to pull him closer to me as I opened my mouth and swallowed as much of his hard dick into my mouth as I could get, stopping as I felt myself choking, forcing myself to relax. I stroked my hand up and down what wasn't in my mouth, determined to please my lover and take it all in. Oh, how desperately I wanted to please him, to take his impressive length entirely into my mouth and down my throat without any gagging and retching. Forcing myself to relax, I slowly took more and more of him into me, stopping when I needed to, and stroking him with my tongue until I could relax further.

Fisting his hand in my hair, he gritted out that I didn't need to do this. But he knew. Oh, how he knew. So many times we had talked about this, about how I was afraid, given his size, that I wouldn't be able to deepthoat him, like I so desperately wanted. He knew I was worried that just licking and slurping on him wouldn't be enough, that even though he had frequently reassured me that no blowjob can ever be bad, he would be disappointed in my efforts. So it was with this understanding between us that he stood there, fist in my hair, water pouring down over his sweet, sexy body. And when I started to tire, my jaw aching and disappointment filling my eyes, it was this understanding that put his hand to the back of my head and gently pushed me farther onto his cock, slowly easing me along his length, pausing to let me adjust before continuing.

After what seemed like forever, I felt my lips touch the base of his throbbing cock, and knew that I had done it—thatwe had done it. I could feel him pulsating, trembling, trying so hard to be gentle with me, but knowing that we had also talked about him face-fucking me, slamming his dick in and out of my mouth athis leisure, forcing me to take it long and deep. That image made his current actions even sweeter, and ensured that I would later make his fantasy come true, as well.

For now, though, I just wanted to ease the ache—mine for his creamy cum, and his to give me that cum. Sliding back off his dick, I shot him a quick look of triumph, then set out to make him explode as he had done to me earlier. Licking, nibbling, stroking him, I slurped and sucked my way along his length. I brought one hand up to cup his balls, loving the feel of that trembling heat beneath my fingertips. Lightly squeezing and gently caressing them, I lifted their weight, rolling it over my fingers, aroused at the thought of them tightening with his pleasure.

My other hand mimicked the actions of my mouth, the slippery, sliding motion as I stroked him. A mere inch separated my lips and hand, but it was an inch that was highly aware of the coolness of the water as opposed to the heat of my skin. Moaning, he spread his legs wider, one hand braced on the shower wall while the other curled in my hair, never controlling, but merely allowing, for this time. He knew I loved taking charge of his pleasure like this, but that hand in my hair reminded me who really owned my gushing pussy.

And gushing it was. My pussy was creaming at the feel of him slipping and sliding over my tongue. Juice was running down my thighs to mix with the water on the shower floor. It would have been hard to tell what was water and what was my cream, as I knelt on the shower floor and serviced my lover's black cock. Shivers shot through me at his moans and gasps, the throbbing twitches of his dick in my hand and along my tongue. Faster, I slurped, stroked, fondled and sucked. I was lost in the feel of him, every bit of his pleasure driving my own pleasure higher, making me hungrier for the explosion of his sweet cream onto my tongue.

Aching to feel him lose control, I focused my attention on making him cum. Both of my hands slid up to his hips, nails scraping his thighs. I pulled him deep into my mouth, back and forth, rocking him in and out of my throat, taking him as far as I could without choking. Deeper and deeper he slid in, the only sounds in the shower the sluice of water, his moans of pleasure, and my struggles for air on every stroke.

I felt him swell, and my pussy clenched in response. My nails dug into his hips as he slid all the way into me, spurting that sweet cream, shaking in his release, and triggering my own. Drawing back, I savored the last few splashes as they fell on my tongue, relishing the taste of my lover's cum, subconsciously aware of my own cream splattering my legs and the shower floor.

Shaky, visibly quivering, Trey looked down at me as I smiled and swallowed those creamy drops of cum. Helping me to my feet, chuckling at my own trembling knees, he rinsed us both off in the chilly spray, then pulled me to him and kissed me deep. I gasped in shock – this was new for me, a guy cumming in my mouth, then kissing me. The pleasure of his tongue on mine was indescribable, and in seconds he had me hot and wet and ready all over again. Shutting off the spray and taking my hand, he led me out of the shower and into the bedroom, grabbing a towel on the way to quickly dry off with. He told me later he had just been too hungry to stop and towel me dry, like he'd envisioned. He craved the feel of me around his hard dick, and not even my protestations of looking like a drowned rat were going to stop him from finally having me.

He stood me by the bed, roughly rubbed us both with the towel, then gently kissed all those rough marks away. I shook with desire, knowing that my black lover was about to take me, make love to me, give me what we'd talked of for so long. Whispering sweet words along my skin, he took me down onto my marriage bed, coving my body with his, owning every part of me in that instant. Telling myself I would deal with the consequences later, and that it was doubtful he could share the depth of feeling struggling to be released from the confines of my soul, I ached to please him as much as he was pleasing me with his soft words and romantic thoughts. As he entered me that first time, I realized how much I had been missing all my life. Here was perfect, here was where I belonged. My husband and my responsibilities faded away as I gave myself completely to my lover, each word and each stroke sealing my fate, had I only known it...