tagInterracial LoveThe Prosecutor's Good Wife Pt. 01

The Prosecutor's Good Wife Pt. 01


The chilly breeze hit me immediately as I got out of the car. Randy and I had just driven to from our home in Rancho Mirage, where the April temperature was in the mid seventies, to the mountain community of Idyllwild which was at least thirty degrees cooler and enveloped in cloud cover. One of Randy's college friends, Dr. Stan Thompson, was getting married at the Shady Creek Inn, and Randy was serving as a groomsman. We were going up for the day.

It was to be a small wedding, being second marriages for both, just the vows, reception, and dinner catered by one of the local restaurants. I didn't know his future bride, Rachel, very well, but we had a mutual friend, Thelma, who was a former co-worker of minestrone the restaurant.

I immediately embarked on a search for Thelma when we arrived while Randy mingled with the other guests, and I found her in a prep room that had been made available to the bride. She introduced me to Rachel's mother, Maria, who was finishing up on Rachel's makeup and hair, and I was amazed at how young her mother looked. Maria must've been close to 50 years old, and she was tall, at least 5'10", with a strong athletic figure. The mother and daughter could have all easily passed for sisters. Rachel and Maria were originally from Puerto Rico and had moved to New York City when Rachel was very young.

We visited for about an hour, and I found out that I really liked Rachel and Maria. They were both funny and sarcastic like Thelma, and we had a fun time chatting. Since Randy was 13 years older than me, Rachel had a lot of questions about older men as husbands, and I assured her they were better than the youngsters. I would know, having been involved in more than just a few of these relationships.

I put it to her simply, "You're marrying a doctor with an established and successful practice. I know him, he's a great guy...good physical condition, and not bad looking. You look great, and if you treat him right he'll give you the world."

We chatted some more, and then it was time. I took my place among the spectators and watched as Rachel made her entrance, walking slowly down a well worn path to the small grove of trees where the bridal party were waiting. As the minister began speaking, the wind picked up and the temperature seemed to be dropping. I was wearing a short, white skater's dress without stockings and as the ceremony dragged on, I was shivering uncontrollably. The man standing next to me noticed, and he took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders.

The "I dos" we're finally spoken, and we were all able to retreat to the warmth of the reception cabin for champagne and finger foods. I walked to the cabin with the gentleman who loaned me his jacket, and once we were inside I returned it to him.

He was a really good looking black guy, average in height with a razor cut and athletic build. I extended my hand, "Thank you so much, you saved me out there...glad I was standing next to a gentleman. I'm Emlyn, but most people who know me call me Jill."

He took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, "It was my pleasure Jill. I am Marcel...my friends just call me Marcel." When he spoke I thought he he had an accent, almost like French. I was about to ask him where he was from when Randy came and got me for the photographer.

After the pictures we returned to the reception, and had barely settled in when Randy's cell phone rang. One of his junior prosecutors had been injured in a traffic accident and the District Attorney wanted Randy to check on him and meet with his wife at the hospital. I was getting ready to leave with Randy when he suggested I stay since I was close to Thelma. Randy excused himself and spoke briefly with Stan before motioning me to come over.

"Jill, why don't you stay at the wedding? Stan said he and Rachel will find you a ride home...no need for your night to be over."

While we were working out the logistics of me getting back home, Thelma and Rachel came up and said I could ride back to Palm Springs with Thelma and Maria. With that problem resolved, Randy took off.

Thelma gave me an odd little smile as soon as we were alone and asked, "So what is the story with you and that gorgeous Marcel you've been eying all evening?"

I was just slightly embarrassed, "Oh God, was it that obvious?"

Thelma shook her head, "No, probably not to the others, especially the guys. I picked up on it though. You think he's hot, and so do I. He's a friend of Maria, Rachel's mom, and they came over to our place for a barbecue and pool party right after he arrived here, and I thought he was really nice. I think he's from Jamaica or Haiti, or some place like that."

"After we ate most of us changed into our bathing suits and hit the pool. Anyway, when he came out, he was wearing one of those European style speedo suits, and it blew me away...he has quite a package, cute tight ass, and you could see just about everything including the outline of his fat cock."

That sounded interesting, and I tried to pass it off with a lame, "Oh my God, that must've been embarrassing." At the same time, I located Marcel who was talking to Maria, and imagined him in a tight "mankini." I've had black lovers in the past, and most of my experiences were good...very good.

Thelma nodded her head and agreed, "Yeah, but what was embarrassing was my boyfriend watching me with my eyes locked in on Marcel's junk. After he left that night we played around with some fantasy stuff, you know, like Marcel coming back when I was alone and fucking me. We had some great sex that night."

Again I tried to be cool, "Well, I'm not into that...he's nice, but not my type."

Thelma wasn't buying it, "Oh baloney Jill, that's not what I saw. Have you ever had sex with a black man before?"

Time to lie, "No Thelma, and I don't plan on fucking him either. He seems nice, and interesting, and let's just leave it at that." While I was telling her that, I found myself looking at Marcel, trying to picture what might look like naked, and I got caught, again.

Thelma laughed out loud, "Sure, but I saw those 'Fuck me eyes' you were just giving him. How about if I get him to give you a ride home? You can get to know him better and decide for yourself if you want to fuck him."

I shook my head, "No, don't be silly...and besides, what about Rachel's mom...his girlfriend?"

Thelma simply replied, "Well, she'll probably wanna stay late...she won't mind," and without waiting for an answer or further discussion, Thelma went off looking for Maria and Marcel.

A few minutes later, I saw Marcel and Maria. She was gesturing toward me, and Marcel was nodding at whatever she was saying to him. Then they both walked over to where I was sitting.

Maria put her hand on my shoulder and said, "Hey Sweetie, Thelma says you need a ride home tonight. I'm staying late, but Marcel has to get up early tomorrow, so he'll be heading home in a couple hours...after dinner. He can give you a ride if you don't mind riding with a guy who thinks he's driving in a Grand Prix race."

I looked from Maria to Marcel who nodded, "Sure, I'd be happy to take you home. I need to drive to. Los Angeles tomorrow, and it would be nice to get a full night's sleep."

And so I was set up with a ride home. The people from the Hungry Peddler Eatery had arrived, and they set up the lodge for the wedding dinner. The food was great... with Beef Wellington as the main course. Thelma and me were drinking wine, and we were on the verge of getting really silly when Marcel caught my eye and glanced at his watch...my signal to start saying my goodbyes.

As we headed to the door, Thelma rushed up to me and whispered, "Call me tomorrow. I wanna hear all about it."

I felt myself blushing, "Thelma, you are terrible. If you got any ideas about living some kind of vicarious sex life through me, you best forget it. I'm boring, and this is just about a ride home."

Thelma smiled, "Of course...just a ride home with a stud who you've been eying you like prey all night...you just call me."

After a hug and kiss from Rachel, Marcel and I walked to his car and headed down the mountain.

The weather was getting pretty bad. It wasn't that cold anymore, but it was raining hard. We drove through the Pinyon Flats without too much trouble, but when we reached the east side of the mountain, we hit a heavy patch of fog. As we neared the Tewanet Overlook, Marcel slowed and pulled into the small viewpoint lot. Visibility was almost zero.

"I don't feel safe driving in this mess. This isn't just fog...we must be in the middle of a rain cloud. We got to wait it out."

"Yeah, I'm good with that...good job keeping the car on the road."

I called Randy's cell phone and left a voicemail about our predicament while Marcel got me a blanket out of the trunk and turned the engine off. The wind was howling and rain pounded the car, but it was reasonably warm inside as we settled in to wait out the storm. There must've been a full moon overhead because the rain drops and mist in the air had a weird golden glow.

I covered up with the blanket then kicked off my shoes and put my bare feet up on he dashboard. I flexed my toes and rubbed the soles of my feet together...then I drew a happy face with my big toe in the condensation that formed on the windshield. That got Marcel's attention, and he started laughing.

"Very good Jill...sense of humor and artistic talent. I'm impressed."

With a smirk I replied, "Well, when a person has a gift, she should share it. So Marcel, do you have a serious girlfriend? Are you and Maria a couple?"

He shook his head, "No, nothing serious, and Maria and me are close friends. We do some business together...that's all."

"How did you end up in California? Did you come here for school?"

Marcel cleared his threat, "Well, I am originally from Haiti, and I got a government scholarship to attend UCLA to get a teaching credential. I was supposed to go back after I graduated, but there was too much trouble in my country with corruption and lawlessness, so I applied to stay in the United States as a refugee. I've been here for 12 years now, and I am a US citizen."

I smiled, "Oh, good for you. I've heard bad things about your homeland. Did you have a girlfriend back there or anyone in college?"

"No, I was busy. School for me was like war...competition, survival. I appreciate your interest in my life, but I want to know about you. I understand your husband is a very well known attorney?"

"Yes, he's the assistant district attorney for the desert courts. He prosecutes the big cases and supervises the deputy district attorneys. It's a good job, and he really likes it."

"How is it that you came to America? You have an accent yourself...where are you from?"

I'm originally from Manila. After high school, I had a chance to go to Singapore for what was supposed to be an internship in an office, but that didn't work out. I ended up working as a stripper in one of the night clubs. I met a Chinese American businessman while I was doing that, and he talked me into marrying him and moving here. I always wanted to come to the States, so of course I agreed to marry him. But that didn't work out. He was a momma's boy, and his mother hated me. I left him and started dancing again at the clubs in San Diego.

Marcel smiled, "Smart decision you made...traditional Chinese mothers don't like the idea of a non-Chinese son or daughter-in-law. I always loved Asian women, and it's so interesting that you came from Singapore at a young age, dumped a Chinese husband, danced as a striptease girl, and met and married an eminent lawyer. You, my dear, could write a book. Were you ever in love with the Chinese man?"

Time to lie some more, "Well the truth is we were both using each other. I used him to get into the United States, and he was looking for a suitable bride. Anyway, as soon as I figured out how things worked over here, I ran away from him and his goofy family and divorced his ass."

I wanted to know about him. "So, you know all about me...what about you? I bet you've had a lot of girlfriends."

"You are a clever and perceptive girl. You know I have been with many women before. When I was in Haiti, I earned money by fighting, you know fight club stuff. The promoters made women available to the boxers. I was only 16 when I went with a woman for the first time. She was much older than me, and I didn't know what to do. She had to teach me everything."

The thought of a young Marcel with an older woman was really turning me on, and I wanted him to talk more about it.

"What was she like Marcel?"

"She was a black lady, tall and very strong. She had been on our Olympic Team as a sprinter when she was in college. She was very aggressive...always seemed like she wanted to fight. I saw her beat up a woman in the street once after she had been insulted. She hit like a man. She was also bisexual. Sometimes take me and another woman to bed with her...too crazy."

The mental pictures I had of Marcel losing his innocence to an older woman was really making me horny. With him sitting there next to me, I could smell him. I wanted him to touch me, and I put my own hand between my legs.

"So did you ever sleep with this older woman again?"

"Yes, many times. She was very kinky. With her it always went way beyond simple intercourse."

While Marcel was telling his story, I had pulled up my dress and my hand was in my panties. He became aware I was moving around quite a bit under the blanket.

In a compassionate tone he asked, "Are you uncomfortable, can I help you with anything?"

"No, I'm okay. That was an interesting story. How many of these women had you been with?"

"Not as many as I would have liked because I went to the mission school after fighting for only a few months. But how about you? Were you a virgin when you married the Chinese man?"

I blushed, "Gosh no. I was a party girl."

Marcel seemed to perk up when I made that disclosure. "By that do you mean you had a lot of sex partners?"

"Yeah, I have. Quite a few."

"Where any of them black like me?"

I couldn't believe where this conversation was going. I had never even discussed my previous lovers or my clients with my husband...

"Uh huh, I've been with black men."

Marcel smiled, "So that's why you like me. What is the wildest thing you ever did with a black man?"

I shrugged, "Well, probably nothing so unusual. I mean i'm not into whips and chains. My first threesome was with a couple of guys who were managers at one of the clubs I danced at. They were both black. We had an after hours Christmas party, and the three of us ended up at one of the guy's apartment...guess that was pretty wild."

"Do you like threesome sex?"

"Oh God yes. I'll never forget that night with them. I've done it since, but that first time was pretty intense. I still think about it...a lot."

For some reason I wanted to tell Marcel everything about my sex life. While It was true I still thought about my first threesome, they were not club managers. It was my audition with the Crips who pimped me when I worked as an escort. That still remains the most erotic experience of my young life...giving myself so completely to two complete strangers. We fucked long and hard, well into the night, until the guys couldn't perform, and thank God for that...my vagina and anus were both so swollen and sore.

Marcel gave me a quizzical looked and asked, "Have you ever had a threesome with a man and a woman?"

The true answer to that was, "Yes," but I didn't feel comfortable giving out too much personal information at this point. I had gone out on a lot of couple calls when I worked as an escort. Some were good, some not so good, especially when the girl wasn't into it, but these calls paid well. I decided to leave that one open.

"No, never a threesome with a woman involved...that could be fun though."

Marcel wouldn't let me off that hook though. "Well, how about just you and another woman? Have you tried that?"

He saw I was getting self conscious, and answered for me, "Of course...nothing wrong with two beautiful women making love."

I giggled, "Oh, you think you got me all figured out, huh?" I was wondering if somehow he knew about me and Thelma.

Marcel laughed, "Not totally, but i'm getting there. Right?"

I just shook my head, smiled, and shrugged.

We sat there chatting, and even in the dim light of the car, I could see the thickness of his genitals in his trousers...I was getting really turned on, and so was he. I thought he knew what he was doing to me. I kicked off the blanket and told him, "I'm getting into the back seat, and I want you to come back there with me."

I paused for a moment, wondering if I had moved too fast. Marcel was momentarily stunned, and his eyes were as wide as saucers as he watched me recline the seat and crawl into the back. I brushed my hips and thighs against him as I did so, and gave him a real close up my ass and everything else as I scrambled past. I ended up seated on the right side of the back seat.

Then he got a strange look on his face, almost like I was his property. Gone was the polite, shy demeanor.

"So the horny little wife wants to play? Are you sure you want this Jill? I can play pretty rough."

"Yeah, I'm sure...if you think you can handle it. come back here and show me what you got."

Marcel eyed me for a moment, then shook his head and grinned, "Can I handle it." In a stern voice he said, "Spread your legs... show it to me."

I opened myself for him and touched myself, running my hand over my panties, and began to massage myself. I was extremely turned on.

"Pull your panties to the side."

I did as I was told, and started to touch myself again, but he stopped me.

"Keep your hands off your cunt unless I give you permission. Do you understand?"

Oh God, "Yes, I understand, but I'm so horny...please..."

Marcel interrupted me with a sharp, "Be silent woman."

He just stared at me for several seconds, then said, "Remove your clothes, quickly."

I nodded, "Yes," and responded quickly, moving to my knees and pulling the straps of my dress off my shoulders. I made eye contact with Marcel as I pushed the dress down my hips. I touched myself between my legs, briefly. I was swollen and wet with desire...this was wild what he was doing to me.

Marcel nodded approvingly, "Very good Jill...now the bra. Show your breasts."

I reached behind and unhooked my bra. Then I shook the bra off, arched my back and cupped my breasts with my hands.

"Do you like what you see Marcel?"

"Don't speak unless I ask you a question, or if you don't understand my instructions. Now take off your panties...show me your pussy again."

I sat back and raised my hips off the seat, removing the white lace panties I was wearing, and covered my genitals with my hand. Marcel was still sitting behind the wheel, staring at me. There was no emotion in his facial expression, but there was lust in his eyes.

"You were warned not to touch yourself...don't do it again or there will be consequences. Now present yourself in a manner that will make me want to breed with you."

I put my leg up on top of the back seat and laid the other across the top of the passenger's seat while he looked at me. I wanted to say something but remained silent and just raised my hips slightly, as if to offer myself to him. It could have been just only been a few seconds but it seemed like several minutes before he spoke.

"Very nice...you trim your pubic hair, and you have a thick bush for an Asian woman. But you need to know, I prefer my women to be hairless. The next time I see you naked, and there will be a next time, I want you to be waxed. You must be smooth. Do you understand?"

"Yes Marcel. I..."

"Be silent Jill. Just nod your head when I give you instructions."

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