Hazel Plays With Fire Ch. 02

This story is rather different to many of my others. I don't write a world where all white men are weaklings and all Black men are automatically good guys. If a character is a natural submissive then he or she is clearly vulnerable to falling under the sway of someone who is not a positive for them. Things can go very wrong. Such themes are more central to this story than to most of my others. Again my respects to a long-gone author whose long unavailable story suggested this one.

Picking Up The Pieces

After our experience with Levy, Hazel calmed down a lot. For months I think I was the only man in her life. She went out with Vicky, of course, but her other activities stopped altogether.

It seemed we'd reached a new chapter. Playing with women could get damn wild but it was much safer than 'The Pit'.

Vicky told me that Hazel's piercings had been a great idea. I know that some of the girls at the lesbian clubs they went to agreed. She come back with nipples sore from them tugging her rings. She also learned how to use that tongue piercing to fine effect and skills learned on pussy seemed to transfer well to a cock - I can happily testify to that.

If there was any experimentation it was in those piercings. The old fear of needles was gone so, against all appearances, Levy had achieved something positive. Pretty soon Hazel had five studs in each ear as well as the rings in her lobes.

I think she even wanted a nose-ring but that was certainly not in the dress code at the school where she taught. So instead she got bigger-gauge gold rings for her nipples. I swear you could sometimes see them through her blouse in the Summer but if the

head-master noticed he didn't complain!

She also swapped her simple pussy piercing for something she learned about at one of the clubs. It was a circular barbell running horizontally right behind the most sensitive part of her clit. Any stimulation from the front would now produce stimulation at the back. She loved it.

Vicky hated Hazel's tramp stamp almost as much as I did. I researched tattoo removal and made an appointment for Hazel but she wouldn't play ball. "It's part of me and where I've been - I can't just rub it out. Meeting Levy was weird and scary, but amazing. I don't want to forget that."

However, after about six months she did seem to forget him. My work looked like taking me to London more and more. We talked about Hazel transferring schools and maybe us moving closer to the city to cut the commute. In the meantime we sold up our houses and gave up the old flat.

We moved into a nice house in the suburbs of the city. Close to the airport and with a rail station very handy. Five bedrooms, a hot-tub and loads too much room for just the two of us.

Five bedrooms - and at Hazel's insistence? It wasn't too much of a surprise to get back from London one early morning and find the house full of people, some sleeping but most fucking. To judge by the mini-bus parked outside and the clothing scattered around there was a rugby club on tour and 'the girls' were entertaining them. There was a box of condoms on the little table in the hall and three props practising team-building by making the love of my life 'air-tight'.

I went to my little study-office and poured myself a whisky. It was damn good to be home.

From then Hazel and 'the girls' used my house as their fuck-pad. Whether hunting all together, singly or in pairs they would bring their male catch home for a good night's sucking and fucking. The neighbours' curtains twitched on a regular basis but who cared. Probably gave them a cheap thrill.

'The girls' had always been equal-opportunity fuckers. Tall or short, thin or fat, Black or white, male or female - they'd have whatever took their fancy that particular night. Sometimes a partner would be around for a few days, or weeks, or even a month or two, but 'the girls' had self-selected for wildness. They weren't settling down any time soon.

In all this hectic action Hazel had definitely changed in one thing. I saw her with white men, South Asians, Arabs, East Asians and even a nice guy from Guatemala, but I never saw her with a Black guy. If one showed interest, and that fucking tattoo didn't help, she'd just smile and move on. They soon got over it - Dee had four gorgeous young friends who had no such reservations.

I'd always fancied myself a bit of an amateur psychologist and it was clear to me what had happened. Levy, or her reaction to Levy, had scared her and she was putting up a barrier against that memory by avoiding Black guys as sexual partners.

All very simple.

All very wrong.

It was maybe a year after our trip to 'The Pit' when Hazel asked me for something from her bag. That was very rare because her bag was a sacrosanct private space for her. I remember she was in the shower and very late for work - she didn't really think about what she had asked me to do.

I found her bag, opened it and got her car-keys. I didn't mean to snoop, I didn't hunt through her private stuff, I didn't need to.

It was right under her keys - one of those leather wallets with a clear plastic window that you kept the old-style driving licence in. But this one hadn't got a driving licence in it. It had a piece of paper, very neatly mended where it had been roughly torn into pieces. A piece of paper placed in the wallet to keep it clean and safe. Kept in her bag, so it was always by her. At the top of her bag, not in a corner at the bottom, so she'd looked at it recently, probably last night. A piece of paper with Levy's name and number on it.

My blood froze. We weren't safe, that bastard was still in her mind. I thought about confronting Hazel, about destroying the note, about walking out of the house and never looking back. What I actually did, of course, was put the wallet back into the bag and cover it with a pack of disposable tissues so that she wouldn't know that I had seen it. I loved her and when we were together, and I'm not even talking about sex here, she made my life mean something. I'd known what I was getting into.

An Unusual Proposal

It was the next Valentine's day that Hazel made her proposal.

It's a grand tradition - woman tired of waiting get to 'pop the question' on that particular day. It's just as well that I said yes because Hazel had clearly been thinking about it and had planned well in advance.

It was going to be a little private occasion - just the two of us somewhere hot and far away. She told me it should be in three months time and to book three weekends off from work. Who was I to argue?

On the Monday after the first of those weekends Hazel told me we were going to fly out the next Friday evening. Her eyes were a little wild and she had that wonderful naughty little grin. God I'd missed that, I'd only seen it maybe a couple of times since...well, you know when.

My credit card had apparently already bought the flight so I also arranged the accommodation. Hazel had researched the local laws and apparently it took a leaf out of Vegas' and Gretna's play-book. Quickie marriages were very good for business.

We slept on the plane and then got a taxi to the hotel I had booked. I'd kept the details secret but it was five-star and it was the honeymoon suite.

As we walked in her jaw dropped. "Oh my God, it's gorgeous."

It was pretty spectacular. A HUGE bed, separate living space, a big balcony, heart-shaped tub in the bathroom and a walk-in wardrobe/dressing room for her. It'd cost a packet but her reaction was worth every penny. She ran round like a little kid exploring and investigating all those little touches that spell, 'luxury.'

She gave me a massive hug and kiss. "I love you so much."

"Almost as much as I love you," I answered. "Do you want to try the bed before dinner?"

She gasped in mock-horror, "What a suggestion. We aren't even married yet - besides I think you'll like what I have planned. Meanwhile, I have a couple of things to arrange - see you at dinner."

I'm Getting Married in the Morning

I was the luckiest man in the world.

To me Hazel will always be impossibly beautiful, cute and sexy. As she dressed to go out her trim naked body made we wish she'd revise her sudden views on sex before marriage. I grabbed her but she just twisted away, giggling, "I'm getting ready, get out and wait..."

Soon she joined me looking truly spectacular. She'd let her hair grow to shoulder length and currently had it auburn, which she knew was my favourite. She hadn't added to her minimal make-up and she didn't need to, her eyes sparkled and her pale pink skin seemed almost luminous with vitality, health and happiness.

Her little matt-black leather dress was sexy but just about respectable - high-necked, sleeveless with a flared mini-skirt that, when she twirled for me, lifted to tease a potential glimpse of bare bum. All finished off with the black patent Louboutin high-heels that she knew I loved.

"Wow!" I breathed.

"You like?" she smiled, striking a pose.

"God, yes!"

"Me too - I like wearing leather." She rubbed her hands over her body, stroking the material of her dress. "I could start wearing it all the time."

"I can't wait to see you go back to school dressed like that!"

She giggled, "Point taken!"

I took her in my arms and kissed her. I hoped she knew how much I loved her. "We could just stay in..."

"Naughty boy", she scolded, "time to show off your soon-to be-wife."

In the elevator I slid my hand under her dress and found her pussy bare and damp. I groaned as my dick got hard at record speed. Hazel giggled, "I knew you couldn't resist."

As we entered it seemed that every man we passed turned to ogle her, even in the fanciest restaurant of the resort. It was a great dinner and the waiters were EXTREMELY attentive. It was one of those moments when you realise that it just can't get any better. Which is great until you understand that means things can only go one way.

After dinner we took coffee - very strong and very dark. "I'm so lucky you're marrying me," she suddenly said.

I was amazed - the luck was all on my side and I tried to tell her so.

"But I know I sometimes...lose myself."

"When Wild Hazel takes over?"

She smiled in embarrassment, "Yeah". Damn, she looked so cute, unbearably cute. How could anyone have known her secret life.

She looked me in the eyes, "I'm sorry if I hurt you sometimes. If you don't want me to do anything like that again..."

I squeezed her hand, "It's OK. I don't mind you doing these things so long as you're safe and you don't do it behind my back."

She stared at me, "Even when I was ready to go and be a whore for him, to be a sex-slave for his gang. I've still got that note he gave me, the one you thought I threw away." She dropped her eyes.

I squeezed her hand. "I know. You're my beautiful, dirty, cute, filthy little slut and I love you more that I ever thought I could love anyone or anything. I'm going to be proud to be your husband." It was what I wanted to say and what I wanted to feel but it wasn't the whole truth. I loved the fact she had felt able to confess keeping his note to me. However, the fact 'he' was here, intruding in our most special moment, was like a kick in the balls.

She relaxed and wiped her eyes, "See how lucky I am to have found you!" Then she looked serious, "Sometimes I worry I might go too far. Something I can't put right. But when I get like that...it's like all I can think about is cumming. That's all that matters. Whoever can get me to that next orgasm, that next level, becomes the most important person in the world. I think I'd literally do anything for them."

"That scares me," I admitted, "Doesn't it scare you?"

"Yes...but I love it too." Hazel looked upset. "Sometimes the danger is part of it. I'd understand if you didn't want to go through with tomorrow...but I do know that I want to marry you because I want to be with you for the rest of my life"

It was enough, more than enough, more than I'd ever hoped for. Perhaps I was crazy but then love does do that to you.

The meal was great and the company better. Hazel was full of life and vitality, her eyes shining with happiness, and she seemed more beautiful than I had ever seen her.

Finally it was time to move on. "So, any thoughts about this evening. It's supposed to be bad luck for me to see the bride before the ceremony tomorrow. I've booked myself another room just for tonight. No reason you should be lonely tho..."

She grinned and her eyes widened a little. "Hmmn, are you suggesting I go out and find a stranger to fuck me on the night before my wedding? Like in 'My Fiancée the Whore?'

"How the fuck..."

She giggled, "If my pervert of a future husband doesn't want me to know what dirty stories he likes to read then he shouldn't leave them on screen when he puts his laptop in 'sleep mode.'

"I'm sorry," I said, " I shouldn't have suggested it."

Her eyes were wide now - she was enjoying teasing me. "Oh, don't be, it told me what you wanted for your wedding present. So, I'll see you tomorrow at one o'clock on the beach for the ceremony and I will have another man's cum in me and maybe even trickling down my leg. And what's that other little detail - oh yes, I'll see if he'll agree to give me away."

"Oh fuck." I had an erection that could shatter a diamond it was so hard. "I'm not sure that's a good idea - going off alone I mean."

"Don't worry," she giggled, "I told you I had some arrangements to make and I've made them. I've also got another little surprise for you. We had to wait three months to marry because I came off the pill and I wanted to be sure of my timings. This weekend is doubly special. Tomorrow it's my wedding day and then on Sunday it's my OV day."

"OV?"

"Ovulation, silly," she took something from her little bag and gave it to me, " so tonight and tomorrow are prime baby-making time and for the first time in months I won't be needing this."

I looked at it - it was a little box with a birth control diaphragm in it. "Shit," I murmured, pondering the consequences of what she was saying.

She pouted in mock concern and annoyance. "But only if you like the idea." She got up from the table, came round to beside me and I felt her hand find the bulge in my trousers. She giggled again, "So glad you do," kissed my cheek and headed out of the restaurant leaving me to join most of the other men there in admiring the swing of her cute little leather-clad bum.

Our Special Day

God knows how I slept I was so excited. Partly about the wedding, partly about what Hazel was up to. I thought about it and then decided a quick wank might help.

My phone chimed. A message - which could only be from...

It was a photo - Hazel seemed to be on stage at a bar. Her leather dress had been pulled up and a couple of guys were pawing at her. She'd got a cigarette in her mouth but she had never smoked so far as I know. Well except for that night with Levy. Hang on, that wasn't just any cigarette...

Another photo. Hazel and a cute girl with a tiny dress and big boobs. Both swapping saliva with their tongues entwined.

The third photo. Hazel's still on stage but now she's naked except for her heels and the girl has three fingers up Hazel's pussy. My girl's eyes look a bit spaced out. It's excitement, yes, but I'm pretty sure that it must have been pot she was smoking.

Which was something 'the girls' often indulged in but Hazel pretty much always refused, maybe because of all those 'just say no' messages she had to issue as a teacher. Hazel is many things but she generally isn't a hypocrite. Just as well they didn't have her teach 'sex-ed'! By the look of her it was good stuff...

...but not a good idea in a strange town where you didn't know anybody. I was going to have to go and get her.

Ping. A last photo - Hazel's back in her dress and standing by the huge bed in the honeymoon suite. She's beckoning me to join her, her eyes wide with excitement and a smile of welcome on that sweet face I love so much..

Except, of course, it isn't me she's beckoning - it's whoever is taking the picture. And I've had no clues who that might be.

Like I said, it was a long night.

By one PM I was on the beach, suited and booted and fucking roasting in the sun. Who thought that was a good idea? Anyway, the Registrar had turned up and so had a little crowd of tourists. That was handy - we needed a couple of witnesses.

She was just late enough for tradition and then the limo that I'd booked rolled up. I'm staring and the older ladies are loving the fact I'm so desperate to see my bride in her dress. Which I was - but I also had an unusual interest in seeing who gave her away. After all he could be the father of her first child.

Oh...

I didn't have any problem recognizing him. He'd been our taxi-driver the day before and I knew him straight away. After all we'd only seen about three Black guys since we'd arrived. Given that she hadn't slept with a Black guy since Levy and his friends, I'd just assumed...

It was never wise to assume you knew what Hazel would do.

Her selection was about 60 years-old, with a broad friendly face and a prominent beer gut. I wouldn't call him ugly but it's safe to say she could have done 'better.' Except she hadn't wanted 'better', she'd wanted him.

He looked very pleased - and so he bloody well should have.

She looked amazing. She was in an ivory strapless almost floor-length gown with silver detailing. No train - but then it was the beach. Minimal make-up, she relied on her natural beauty and it was not letting her down. Her flawless skin, her shoulder length auburn hair and her intelligent blue, almost blue-grey, eyes. Who needed make-up?

The old Black guy delivered her to my side, then solemnly stepped back. Hazel locked eyes with me, stood there in front of the Registrar, and we smiled. It all felt so good, so wonderful, so right.

That's all I can think of - even as the Registrar is saying his piece. I just about managed to say the right things in the right places, Hazel followed suit and I put my ring on her finger.

There you go. At that moment I was the happiest man in the world.

My witnesses did their bit, many a congratulation was offered and many a photo was taken. We ate something and then it was time to go back to the hotel.

My perfect bride turned to me with a slightly guilty look. "Err, sweetie, last night I think I got a bit high..."

Hmmmmnnn - you don't say.

"...and Tony wouldn't believe I'm fertile so I had to think of something he'd know was especially for him..."

Hmmmmmm - because fucking a gorgeous woman half his age wouldn't do. I couldn't really blame the lecherous old bastard tho.

"...and so I promised he could have me on my wedding night too."

Hmmmmmm - it's as well I'm not a jealous man. My dick certainly wasn't jealous.

She noticed and kissed my cheek. "Don't worry I've got some condoms so I can have you too."

Most people would think something about that was fucked up - I just thought it was another day in my wonderful life with Hazel.

It turned out Tony was a really nice guy. He'd been in the USAF and had married a local girl and decided to move to the resort. His wife had died five years earlier but he'd stayed on and did pretty well ferrying tourists about in his cab.

He did need to exercise more, watching him with Hazel was like seeing her mate with a walrus at times. She didn't seem to mind, grunting and cooing her appreciation for his efforts and hollering the house down each time he drove his seed deep inside her.