My Guilty Conscience

(I was doing some plumbing for an old friend when I accidentally came across a written manuscript hidden behind a wall. It was titled, "My Guilty Conscience." It was signed by the wife of my old friend. I took an hour to read it then photocopied it on my friend's copier before he came home. I figured you might want to read it like I did.)

*****

I mount the steps nervously. In the five years I've been married to Samuel, I've never contemplated anything so sinister as cheating on him before...until now!

I walk through the large double glass doors and stride defiantly toward the elevator.

Derrick's condo is on the ninety-eighth floor, just about as close to heaven as a girl can get without sprouting wings.

My five inch heels click sensually along the gleaming hardwood.

My body is on fire, and my mind ablaze with mental images of Derrick at the company picnic with nothing on but his damn bathing suit. Why I let my best friend Cheryl invite me to her company's picnic is beyond me. Everyone at her workplace was allowed to bring at least one friend or family member. Being a new employee there, she wasn't on speaking terms with a lot of the other employees. She wanted me to come along for moral support. I should have told her no. I should have run away and hid at her offer. But oh no, I just had to be her best friend, the one that she could count on. Only now...only now...I am helplessly hooked on the millionaire company president.

I stand at the elevator and watch a strange fellow black woman admiring me out of the corner of her eye.

I smile. It emboldens her and I know she is dying to say something.

"Girl," she spits out. "You are dressed to the nines, and those wicked spiked shoes, wow. But if I had your fabulous legs I'd be showing them off too, I suppose."

I smile again but don't answer. That is when I gather the thought that she is growing jealous. She would never be able to turn men's heads the way I can.

The elevator doors swing open and she hits the number eleven. She then asks, as the doors swing shut, what floor I want.

"Ninety-eight," I say, regretting it immediately. There were only a few rooms in the penthouse suites passed the ninety-fifth floor. It might make it easy for her to guess who I was going to see on ninety-eight.

"Hmmm, God's country," she responds.

"Pardon?"

"Floors ninety-six through to a hundred. They call it God's county. Built exclusively for high end millionaires. Those each only have one condo occupying the whole floor. Ninety-eight? If I'm not mistaken floor ninety-eight belongs to that Caucasian dreamboat Derrick Wilson. He owns his own fortune five hundred company, you know."

"You know the names of everyone living on every floor?"

"For the top five penthouse floors I do. It's an occupational hazard for busybodies like me. I tend to be overly inquisitive in matters that don't concern me. But had I known that Derrick liked black women, I might have taken a run at him myself, although my boobs and ass look nothing like yours do. You are a real hottie. Hope it works out well for you and that beefcake Derrick. Does he know you're married?"

Her question didn't connect at first, so I said nothing as she stepped off the elevator, then she turned to give my oversexed smoking hot body one last glance. She made me feel embarrassed dressed the way I was as she gawked. I must have given her the bang on impression that I was going up to have sex with the hunky, incredibly handsome Derrick, and steam up the entire ninety-eighth floor, because she pointed to my hand as the doors were about to close and said, "don't forget to take off your wedding ring."

My heart leapt through my throat. I was still wearing my damn wedding ring?

"Shit," I muttered, yanking all my rings off and dumping them into my zippered compartment in my purse. I had told the very handsome and hunky Derrick that I was single, not that guys necessarily cared about such details. A woman going up to spend quality time in a man cave could hardly believe he was going to merely be showing her his comic books. More than likely he was going to be showing her his eight inch woody. And in Derrick's case, the woody just happened to be white. Just like Samuel's. Samuel was my adoring husband.

Today was Saturday, and Saturday's I always went to the gym at noon to work out for a few hours. Only today I wasn't at the gym. Today I was saying good bye to Miss Nosy Parker as she watched me, waiting for the elevator doors to swing shut on her.

I pressed the 'close' button quickly and the doors closed again quickly.

The sensation of being whisked upward in a hurry felt exhilarating. Although I was horrified that the nosy black woman had sniffed me out. I knew I should have been smarter and told her the thirtieth floor, then merely pressed ninety-eight after she had gone. Hind sight is twenty-twenty I suppose. And living and learning is always part of the process. So why wasn't I listening to my conscience now?

At risk was a five year marriage to a really sweet Caucasian guy named Samuel, who through no fault of his own, was unable to satisfy me sexually. He had been cursed with having a severe and untreatable case of erectile dysfunction brought on by premature ejaculation.

A few times he had managed to get his damn cock inside of me without it exploding before hand. And he had been able to do so on a dozen or so miraculous occasions for a full blessed minute or two, but that was only by us having no foreplay and by us not undressing all the way. The efforts did produce two children, a four year old daughter named Melissa, and a two year old daughter named Crissy.

The elevator was getting close to his floor, and I wondered if I was actually going to step through those damn doors once they had swung open on ninety-eight. I tried to imagine myself stopping dead in my tracks a full five yards in front of the large double condo doors. Was I really going to walk to within inches of those damn doors then knock on them? And was I really going to step inside and into the waiting arms of a millionaire beefcake who probably knew as much about sex as any well-worn stud on the planet?

Fooling my husband Samuel was easy, but fooling myself into thinking I'd be able to live with myself afterwards was a lot harder. Ninety nine percent of all erectile dysfunction could be treated. Was it my husband's fault that fate had placed him in the last totally frustrating one percent?

.

The doors suddenly opened and I was starting to sweat like a pig along my neck and the sides of my face. If I wasn't careful then my hair would become sweat soaked as well.

I stepped out of the elevator and walked tentatively towards the large double mahogany doors. I had played this routine of cheating with a super-hot stud a thousand times in my mind before, but until now, I had never managed the courage to carry it out.

The doors looked daunting. There was no buzzer in view, but a brass knocker stared back at me. All that stood between me and two hours of heart stopping, cock thrusting, breast sucking, bump 'n grinding, no holds barred sex, was merely a simple rap at the door.

I sighed and found myself suddenly shaking like a leaf. Yes, Samuel was an absolute failure between the sheets, and yes, my smoking hot black body was desperate for some 'down and dirty' attention from a superhot whitey by the name of Derrick. But that would be so damn unfair to Samuel as to be unconscionable. It would also be placing at risk, my very happy home and the healthy, exciting environment for my two precious beautiful daughters.

Samuel had always begged me that if the time should come that I needed a 'real man' in terms of his sexual prowess, then I should simply divorce him and spare him the humiliation of being a hubby on the side. As Samuel always used to say, there was no shame in being upfront and honest. If our missing sex life was more that I could bear, then I needed to officially separate first, file divorce papers second, and then and only then, cheat on him third. Only I wasn't doing any of that. I was planning to cheat behind my husband's back.

I brushed away a falling tear. I so desperately wanted the feel of a man's arms, lips and cock, and not necessarily in that order. But I also desperately didn't want my twin girls to be devastated by the breakup of a marriage, that at least, on the surface of it, had all the makings of a fairy tale union between a very attractive interracial couple with two successful high paying careers.

I also had no illusions that if Samuel found out he would surely be asking for full custody for my two daughters. And that custody was bound to be granted by any judge, considering that it would be me committing the adultery.

I glanced at my watch. Five minutes after twelve. For all my husband Samuel knew, I was entering the gym and starting to sweat over some stationary bicycle or vinyl covered dumb bells. He had no way of knowing that I was about to be unceremoniously draped over half a dozen pieces of assorted furniture and humped silly. Or did he? Samuel had always been gifted with a sixth sense at knowing I was lying or that I was trying to hide something. I now wondered if he would be able to spot my guilty, cheating conscience a mile off.

The sweat was now starting to mat my hair to the sides of my Goddess like black face. Men had a tendency to drool at my feet and I knew that Derrick would be no exception. But I could not believe how much I was sweating. I could also not believe how much I was shaking.

I wanted to knock on that damn set of double doors with every fibre of my being, but the faces of my two precious daughters kept flashing up before me. Was I going to risk tearing their happy lives apart just so I could have some great sex? I sighed in anguish. And yet, how could I simply turn around now and turn my back on multiple orgasms. My nipples were stiff with anticipation...my clitoris was on fire...my lips were thirsty for both his handsome mouth and impressive cock. I wasn't just guessing his size, because his emails had boasted about it. I was literally salivating over the thought of rubbing my breasts against his muscular chest and stomach. I had seen him up close in his bathing trunks at the company picnic. Surely I wasn't going to back down now? I was far too horny and full of rampaging lust.

"Fuck." I muttered, knowing I was damned if I did and damned if I didn't. I now wondered whether or not I had it in me to cheat. My parents had certainly not raised me that way. What would they possibly think of me now if they only knew what I was contemplating doing?

I needed more time to think. My mind had become a battlefield in the fight for right against wrong.

"Ah, you're there, Sally. You haven't been waiting long, I hope?"

The voice startled me, and I recognized it immediately from that day at the picnic, and from the subsequent phone calls I'd had with the gorgeous and well-muscled Derrick.

He was standing at the now open door, his naked chest enticing me to walk shamefacedly into his exciting and breathtaking lair. He wore only a pair of shorts, and face seemed even more handsome now than it had been at the picnic or in his air brushed photos he'd emailed to me.

A volcanic surge of revulsion took hold of me as the pictures of my precious family portrait flashed into my frantic mind. Once I stepped through that door of decadence and sexual debauchery, there would be no going back. I would be forever trapped in a maze of candle-light rendezvous, and clandestine encounters where wet lips smacked off of body parts and orgasms abounded.

Mental images of wicked foreplay and equally wicked afterglows teased and tortured my racing mind.

I trembled violently, knowing I wouldn't be able to stop at just one sex session, but would want to keep coming by to visit this Greek God Derrick often. I needed to either break free of his seductive allure now, or be under his damn spell forever.

He held the door open wider.

"Please, come in, Sally. Why are you standing out in the hall?"

"I'm sorry. I can't do this," I answered him. "I thought I could, but it would wreck my life."

With those words I spun around and scampered the six steps to the elevator. Much to my dismay, the doors were shut. I pressed the button, feeling extremely awkward as I kept my back to him.

I heard him step toward me, then felt his hot breath on my neck as he stood directly behind me.

His hands were wrapped around my waist, and I could feel my blood wax hot.

His aftershave was spicy and minty at the same time, making my enraptured nostrils drool.

His tight fitting t-shirt could not hide the rippling abs and bulging pectorals as they pressed sensually against my back.

"You needn't be afraid," he whispered, noting I was not wearing a bra.

His hands reached around my side from behind, moving quickly to undo the buttons until my large black breasts were exposed to the temperature controlled air. He cupped them and toyed with the nipples, making me swoon out of my mind with rabid lust. I needed to get out of his clutches in a hurry or succumb to the damnable temptation. I was so turned on by his hands that I couldn't find the willpower to slap them away. The only thing that could possibly save me now is if the elevator would get here at once, then whisk me away to the safer confines of the lobby and my car parked in the visitors parking. I watched the floor numbers in red move above me as the elevator started ascending to my rescue. 14,15,16, 17,18...

His moist, heavenly lips were suddenly on my neck and shoulders, and so I kept my back to him, unwilling to risk a kiss upon my impressionable pink painted mouth.

24,25,26...it wasn't moving fast enough and I was unable to summon the willpower to ask him to stop. Why the hell couldn't they make elevators that moved faster? I had changed my mind about making love to this company president. All I wanted was the damn elevator to arrive so I could escape his irresistible clutches and get back to my husband and my daughters.

My breathing was now heavy and labored as his hands squeezed my boobs and made me crazy with desire.

I could feel the swollen bulge under his pants as it stood upright against my skirt. He had told me in his emails that it was a full ten inches long when erect, and I had proof of that right now.

38,38,38...The elevator was now stuck, stopped between floors. Some idiot had probably pressed the 'up' button by accident. I nervously bit my bottom lip as I waited. My worried eyes fluttered at the unbearable temptation, causing my long sexy lashes to resemble two carefree butterflies.

He managed to nudge my face to the side and our mouths finally met, sending shockwaves of paradise that were too amazing to ignore.

My resistance crumbled, and we let our tongues sword against each other. I then felt my skirt and panties slip down around my ankles. Derrick was smooth, really smooth, and I felt like a hen trapped in the fox's lair.

41,42,43...The elevator was moving again, for all the damn good it was going to do me. It was not even half way to where I was and my willpower had run out of steam. My body was on a fire far too unstoppable to turn away from him now.

"I'm yours," I whispered, not fighting as his strong white arm pressed against my black bum cheeks, lifting me off the ground. He carried me past his large double wooden doors. Next he lowered me to where I stood on spiked heels on the ceramic tiles in his foyer.

Finally the elevator doors swung open. I remember thinking to myself, 'you're a day late and a dollar short,' as I looked back up into his face and watched our mouths meet again.

He swung his door shut with the back of his foot and I was forever trapped in the smoldering abyss that was his smoking hot body.

I couldn't help myself, and yanked down his shorts, watching his erection stand upright in all its ten inched glory.

He kicked his pants away, and suddenly he couldn't take his eyes off of my enormous firm boobs.

His lascivious stares turned me on.

He lowers his head and sucks on them, paying special attention to my nipples.

I shiver with rampaging ecstasy.

My hand is on his cock and I want him inside of me. After years of being denied the pleasures of the flesh, I am now wallowing with explosive desire.

I bend over, prying his lips off my boobs and turning around. I want his cock to enter my pussy from behind.

My round succulent black ass is swaying at him and elevated in my sky high pumps.

He rubs my thighs, then places his hands on my bum cheeks, gripping them as his cock glides forward, stretching my pussy apart. It makes me groan with an exquisite bliss so powerful, that I am immediately soaked. The pleasure is intense and I am suddenly reeling with an orgasm so powerful, that it rocks my world and leaves me breathless.

His thrusts are sweeter than anything I could ever have imagined, and I never want them to stop.

My body is already soaked in sensual sweat, and I reach round with both hands behind me, sweetly clawing at his thighs with long pink painted nails. I want him to be deeper and harder. He senses my needs and does my bidding. I groan loudly in response. Surely orgasm number two isn't starting to take hold of my body so soon, is it? It is, and a wave of squirting female cum floods his thrusting cock.

I am out of my mind with pulse pounding delight.

My pussy is tight and tiny from a lack of use, but he is stretching it open wide now, filling it with a giant cock that is as fiery as it is stiff.

I glance at his wall clock. We have been going for a half an hour, which is at least twenty-nine minutes longer than my Samuel could ever have possibly managed.

"Ohh shit, I'm coming," he yelps, and I am disappointed he couldn't have held out just a little bit longer. I had been hoping for an orgasm number three.

"You want me to pullout?" he whimpers, a sure sign he doesn't really want to pullout since he has to ask. It would be so much sweeter for both of us if he were to simply stay inside, his cock still thrusting and his swollen cum filled balls still slapping off my ass as our thighs keep on pounding into each other. I mull over his words, knowing I only have a few moments to reply. He should have been wearing a condom, because that was what we had agreed upon in our emails, but things had gotten off to a really hot and bothered start, and all that was water under the bridge now.

He moves his hands across my body and squeezes my breasts really hard, igniting a passion inside of me so strong that it unexpectedly and inexplicably ignites sensations of a third orgasm beginning to take hold. The new approaching blast of pleasure takes me by surprise, but its intensity will depend on whether or not he can continue his thrusts for just a little bit longer.

"Can...can...you hold out a little longer?" I beg, not really wanting to be filled with his cum since I am not on the pill.

I groan much louder now, succumbing to a third orgasm which has the potential to be far more powerful than the first two. But only if he can keep his thrusts going.

My insides implode with my own squirts. His have still mercifully not yet materialized as he begins to moan in earnest. The air is now thick with the scent of my discharging pussy, and I am so turned on that I no longer care whether he fires inside of me. I just don't want him to pullout. Not just yet.

I dig may nails deeper into his thighs and pull him harder into me. "Don't pullout," I yelp at him, my eyes glazing over as his thrusts keep me coming apart ever so sweetly at the seams.

His firing semen is like a blast of ultra-sweet honey, tantalizing my insides. A tidal wave of escalating joy sweeps over me yet again. His hot shots prolong and intensify my own orgasm, so much so that I reel with a delight far too good to be true.