Little Black Ball Ch. 02bySeurat©
*Author's note. I am in the process of editing and rewriting a number of stories from my collection, as well as editing those of a few other authors. I hope that you enjoy the tidbits that I am able to throw at you until the first flood of fiction hits, and then I can only hope you don't hit back.
In the meantime, here is a little something to hold you over. The story is in two parts, though there is little character relationship between the two halves. If there is any demand, from readers or my muse, then there will be further chapters. Parts 1 and 2 are being submitted on the same day.
The little black ball pt 2: Her point of view, by Seurat
This will not make very much sense unless you have read part 1.
Susan Small, a mid-level saleswoman for a not so successful east coast company, sat in her first class seat and stared at her hands. Cupped inside was a little black sphere, about the size of a golf ball. Across the aisle sat a not-unattractive man that she had gotten to know very well over the past week. He was just as lost in his thoughts as she was in hers, and it was better that they stayed apart while they figured out what their future would hold.
As the storyteller, at this point I would say 'It's not what you think', but I know better. You have, by now, read about Gary, the man in the other seat. You know what Gary will do when he gets off the plane, at least as far as the little black ball is concerned. You know that these two are not lovers, and that when the plane lands, they will go their separate ways. This is the tale of what Susan did with her gift of a little black ball. If the story sounds a little familiar to the first, it's because the parallels in Susan and Gary's situations are what brought them to that episode in their lives.
* * * * * * * * * *
When Susan's plane arrived in Philadelphia, she was not greeted at the gate by a loving family. No kids rushed across the mezzanine screaming, "Mommy! We missed you!". No husband was there to shower her with hugs and kisses and take her bags. Susan had no kids, and probably never would unless something drastic changed in her life. Heck, she was married, but most times it didn't feel like she had a husband.
Daryl was on a trip of his own, to San Francisco or L.A. or some such place on the far side of the country. He would be home later that same day, but only for a few nights before he had to jet away once again. She could wait and share a taxi, but they both knew that exhaustion was a major factor in their lives for the next few days. Waiting in an airport wouldn't do either of them any good.
Susan's trip home was a blur, and before she new it, she was sitting in the study of their small South Philly row house. She held in her hand a memory card her husband had 'lost' just a month ago. In reality, she had confiscated it in a moment of clarity. She had used his camera to take a few pictures of damage done to their car while it was parked outside, and when she went to download them, she had an epiphany of sorts.
Some spouses discover their mates infidelity through hints and subtleties; a misplaced word, a caller identification not erased, a hotel matchbook or credit charge that just doesn't seem right. Others experience the cold rush of ice water in the face when they walk in the bedroom after coming home early, only to find their loved ones professing their lust to another. That was the type of epiphany Susan had.
Three pictures had not been deleted from the camera card. Somehow, someway, Daryl's last trip, to the cold and rainy city of Seattle, Washington, had included a beach and lots of sunshine. Susan had no doubt that he was nowhere near Seattle, at least from what she could see in the pictures. Unless palm trees had suddenly started growing in the great Northwest. He must have had it planned long in advance, she thought, as he started sessions in the tanning booth a month before the trip so that any extra skin color could be easily explained away.
The pictures weren't too graphic. They didn't need to be. The first was of a beautiful blonde woman, leaning on the railing of a balcony overlooking a beach. She was stunning, in Susan's mind, in her little bikini top and bare bottom. In the foreground of the picture, almost completely unnoticeable if you were looking at the woman and not at the other things in the room, could be seen a left foot with a purpled big toe. The person taking the shot was sitting on a bed, and had almost framed things perfectly, except for the appearance of the foot. She could still see the tape marks from the small splint she had applied before he had left home.
It was the toe Daryl had broken just before he left on his trip. Stumbling around in the dark one night on the way to the bathroom, his foot had connected with the bottom of the dresser, and presto! One broken toe. He had thought enough to take the splint off while he was at the beach, so that it's presence wouldn't leave a tan line.
The second picture was a reverse shot in a mirror of the same woman. She was dressed to kill in an evening gown, and her makeup was perfect. The picture had been angled to show her in the best possible light, but once again the photographer was just a little off in his composition. On the vanity in front of the mirror Susan could see her husband's shaving kit and his gold watch. The gold watch she had gotten him last Christmas. If she blew up the picture, she could almost make out the engraving.
The third picture was the worst, and the most damning. Her loving husband, stretched out in all his naked glory, in a rather compromising position on the hotel bed. His hands were handcuffed above his head, a blindfold was in place, and she could still see the remnants of shaving cream were his pubic hair had been removed. Written in lipstick on his chest were the words, "pussy hound", but he didn't seem to mind. The big grin on his face and the even bigger erection between his legs made it obvious that he wasn't too upset about his new nickname, or his situation. She remembered that he made a point of telling her he had shaved himself in order to add a little spark to their sex life.
Susan looked at the pictures again and again, and tried to find some way to explain it away. Daryl had known about the pictures, that was for sure. He just didn't know she had copies. They were at the tail end of a sequence, most likely of his last day he was there. That much could be ascertained by the numbering of the pictures on the card. Susan figured that he had been copying and deleting the pictures, and had somehow missed these last three. The card was secreted away, just in case she could figure out how to undelete the other former pictures. A clean replacement had been put into the camera so that the missing one wouldn't be noticed.
For two weeks she watched him for any sign of guilt or shame or further indiscretion, but she saw nothing. Not that it mattered. She shut down the intimacy they once had, claiming sickness, while she figured out what to do and where to go. There was no grand confrontation, with them screaming at one another or things thrown in anger. There was a lot of numbness on her part, though, as the implications of the scenes in the pictures sunk into her thoughts.
At first she thought nothing could be worse but the more she thought about things, the worse the situation became. She couldn't stand to be around him at all, and he acted completely innocent. His life went on in blissful ignorance of her turmoil, while everything he did or said had implications in her life. Was he still seeing this woman? Was she better than Susan as a lover or a friend? She was certainly more attractive, and the little bondage scene was something that Susan would never have thought of in all their time together.
Was it a one off event, or was he even now plotting time for this other woman? Would Susan be thrown out of her own house to be replaced by a new and improved model wife?
She couldn't confront him yet, not without a plan of action. Her upcoming trip would give her time away, time to think. A revenge fuck with a total stranger? No, that wouldn't fix things, and it wasn't in her personality. He wouldn't care, probably. He already had somebody else. She would need something to make her feel empowered in the situation. Something to put her back in control. Slowly, the love she had for her husband changed to contempt, and then outright hatred.
Then she went to South America and her world came apart as the rest of her life was thrown into complete turmoil. This time, she got an answer for her questions. She got her little black ball.
* * * * * * * * *
When Daryl got back to the house, he was bushed. When his travel was all work, he found that the lack of 'relaxation' sessions with Sonja drained his energy completely. He stumbled into the house, ready for the comfort of a night in his own bed.
He dropped is cases in the foyer - nothing there that need to be taken care of tonight. The house smelled sweet, like perfume. His wife's perfume. He recognized the trick; a few drops on the bulb of a lit lamp, and the scent would fill the house. He knew the routine, too, she would leave a glass of wine in the kitchen for him, with some note about coming upstairs, and then would greet him in bed for some love making escapades. He was tired, but not tired enough to pass on one of the rarities when nothing got in the way of their time in bed.
The note was on the countertop, and the wine was in the refrigerator. 'I've missed you' it read, 'and need to show you how much I love you'. He started to get an erection at the thought of sex. It wouldn't be the wild 'Sonja' sex he had been enjoying recently, but any loving was good loving.
* * * * * * * * * *
Daryl lay on top of his wife, spent from the exertion and orgasm. She had been an animal for the first time in a long while; she would bring them both to the brink, but wouldn't allow herself to orgasm and certainly kept him from cumming. Until that last position, the old standby missionary. When he reached the point of no return, she wrapped her legs around him and made sure to wring every last drop out of him. He started to slide his sweat covered body off of her when she wrapped her arms around him in a full body hug.
"No, not yet. I'm not done" she whispered into his ear. Daryl smiled. On rare occasions she would grind herself against him, even as his erection flagged, in order to bring herself to one last coital orgasm.
Instead of the grind, though, she simply held him. He looked into her face, and found her looking back at him quizzically. That's when he felt it.
It started as an itch, as if he had one last spurt left in his deflating cock and it just had to come out. Daryl started to move inside his wife to relieve the feeling, while at the same time he clenched his muscles in an attempt to force the last bit of jism out. The itch got worse. Now it seemed as if he needed to pee. Not a full blown bladder drain, just the 'last shake'.
"Hey babe, I need to go relieve myself." He broke free from her hug and started to lift off her, but it felt like his cock was imprisoned inside her. The urge to pee was getting desperate, but Daryl found that he couldn't extract himself from his wife. She wouldn't let him go. His cock was fully erect again, and he could feel something soft and fleshy pressing around the head. It has as if a hand inside her held him tightly.
For the first time in his life, he heard his wife laugh an evil laugh. "Problem, love? I thought you liked being in my pussy? Why the rush to leave, especially after what just happened?"
"Sue? What the fuck?!" Daryl pushed hard against the bed, and pulled his cock from the strangle hold of Susan's pussy. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Nothing." She propped herself up on her elbows, and watched as he stumbled off to the bathroom. It wasn't the first time that he hadn't given her an orgasm, but this time it was fully intentional on her part. Just as the old man had told her to do: she gave the little black ball life with an orgasm earlier in the day, when she masturbated. Daryl had made it his own when he fed it.
Once he was in the bathroom, she grabbed her robe and headed for the kitchen for a drink. There was something odd about the whole encounter. Something wrong.
It wasn't until she had reached the refrigerator that she realized that the 'wrongness' was 'right'. She hadn't wiped herself when she got off the bed, and yet nothing had come free from her pussy as she walked away. She laughed to herself, a low, sinister laugh. It had worked. Sue had a moment of regret, a flash of guilt about what she had just done to her husband, but the images from those damn pictures flashed through her mind again and any doubt was irrevocably burned away.
She finished her drink, stopped at the hall bath for a quick pee and clean-up, and returned to the bedroom. Daryl had already fallen asleep. She snuggled in on her side of the bed and fell into a contented sleep. The first in a long time.
* * * * * * * * * *
In the morning, Daryl got up and stumbled again to the bathroom to relieve himself. Sue was gone from the bedroom and, for all he cared, gone from the house. He stared down at his morning erection and realized that peeing was going to be impossible for a while. Knowing he couldn't go made it all the worse, since he had run into the same problem the night before. His bladder felt like it was going to burst.
A shave and a hot shower later, and he was still hard as a rock. Even with the added benefit of some shampoo as lubrication, Daryl found that he couldn't bring himself to orgasm. Not for lack of trying - he nearly rubbed himself raw, but just couldn't get himself over the edge. Finally, he gave up, put on some casual clothes for a quick stop at the office, and headed out the door.
The first cramps hit him while he was driving through center city. He was on the phone with Sonja at the time when all of a sudden it felt like something stabbed through his bellybutton and twisted around inside him. It was a brief flash of pain at best, but enough that her almost veered into oncoming traffic. Sonja was in a panic.
"Forget the office. I'm closer to your place. Can you meet me there?" he gasped out.
"Sure, Daryl. Give me few minutes to clean up." Daryl followed the call with one to work, cancelling his return until the following week.
By the time he pulled up in front of Sonja's apartment complex, the cramps were coming every one to two minutes. Daryl had broken out in a sweat while driving, and his clothes were now drenched. Sonja greeted him at the door to her apartment wearing nothing but a bra and panties, and he stumbled past her into her bedroom.
"Daryl, babe, what's wrong?"
The cramps were gaining in intensity. "I don't know. Flu, maybe. Hand me my phone."
"Let's get you out of those wet things and into bed. I know just the thing to warm you up." She gave him her sexy smile, and started to strip him. When she pulled off his pants, she was greeted with exactly what she expected - his full on erection. She stripped him of the rest of his clothes, and left them in a pile at the side of the bed as she considered the situation. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, yes, but what made him a man showed no indications of him being ill.
"You big fibber - you just wanted a quickie!" She grabbed his prick, and lowered her mouth onto it's head. "I see I'll have to punish you later for being a bad boy, but right now I think I am going to give you a little relief. It looks like wifey-dear didn't give you the welcome home she normally does. Let me show you who really loves you." Her hand guided his engorged cock deep into her mouth and she had just started to swirl her tongue around it when she felt him tense up and explode into her mouth.
That was quick, she thought. He really must have been worked up.
Instinctively, she began swallowing the load erupting from his cock. Spurt after spurt hit the roof of her mouth or the back of her throat, and she did her best to swallow it all. It was just another one of the things that she would do for him that his wife wouldn't.
Daryl flopped back on the bed, then tensed his whole body as the pleasure of the orgasm surpassed the pain of the fading cramps. Sonja, in her incomparable way, had made things better. His orgasm began to subside, but she continued to suck and lick him. It was part of her ritual: she would make sure he was clean and completely limp before she conceded the act was over. As she held him in her mouth, she discarded the bra and panties. Daryl was always quick to recover, and now it was her turn to enjoy.
Nobody told his cock that his orgasm from moments ago meant that the sexual act was over, and another blast of semen erupted into her mouth has he orgasmed a second time. Caught by surprise, she let out a muffled 'ung!' as her mouth was again filled with spunk. She swallowed as much as she could, then pulled off as the last few shots landed on her face.
"Damn, Daryl, what got into you?" she said, as she reached for a towel to wipe her face. Daryl was passed out on her bed, and didn't respond. "What about me, you fucking shit?" Sonja dropped the towel, and stormed off to the kitchen. She was so upset she didn't notice the black smears on the towel.
A third convulsion wracked Daryl Small's prone body, but this time it wasn't an orgasm. In his semi-comatose state, he turned his head and retched a rather large amount of stomach acid and blood onto his clothes at the side of the bed. After a few minutes, he wretched again, and this time it was all blood. He looked blankly at the mess, rolled onto his back, and again passed out. He didn't notice the sounds coming from the kitchen as cramps ripped through Sonja's body, and her muffled screams never reached his ears.
* * * * * * * * * *
A presence in the room woke Daryl. It was dark outside, and he went from fully asleep to nearly fully awake in a flash. His mind registered things like a checklist: it was dark, so he would need to call Sue with an excuse for not being at home. He was at Sonja's, so he would most likely need a shower to wash her scent from his body. He was alone on the bed and he didn't hear her moving around, so she was either asleep on the couch or had gone out. He was naked, and his muscles felt very weak. Damn, it must be the flu. He could smell the strong scent of bile.
And there was somebody else in the room.
"Sonja, babe, I don't feel too well. Could you get me some water or something, and my phone?"
There was no response from the figure. Daryl slit his eyes open so that he could focus in the waning light. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that the person was his wife. Her voice confirmed the fact.
"I'm glad you're finally awake, Daryl. I...I've come to say goodbye." Her voice faltered for an instant, then grew steady.
"Sue, baby, you don't understand..." he started.
She was calm and resigned. "No, Daryl, I probably don't, and I don't want to. I am past caring, too, if you really want to know. I just thought I owed you some type of farewell."
He started to protest, but she held up a hand to stop him. "I'm not going anywhere, Daryl. It's you that is leaving. As of this evening, you are no longer part of my life."
"Sue, we can work this out. She means nothing to me." The clichés began to erupt from his mouth as he searched for a way out of the situation.
"Don't say that, Daryl. I know she means a lot more to you than I do. And soon, she will be everything to you." With a flourish, Susan pulled back the covers to expose his naked body. He was too weak to resist. He shivered from the sudden exposure, but could do little else.
"You look cold, dear. Let me get you something to warm you up." Susan moved through the now darkened room to the foot of the bed, and rubbed some type of lotion onto his feet. A moment later, she started to pull something over his toes and then the heels of his feet, then rubbed the lotion onto his legs. Some type of socks or leggings, he presumed, since he couldn't see what she was doing. She pushed the tight fitting object down and around each of his toes.