Trish - Married Slut Ch. 03

CHAPTER 3: EXPECTATIONS

No, he didn't actually fuck me all night. Not literally, anyway. But it felt like it. Even Jerome is only human, after all.

Outside in the sun next to the pool. After the day at the festival and the naked drive back, naked is less of an issue. Oh, I still felt a twinge of nerves as I walked out of the house and across the patio to one of the chaise lounge chairs by the pool. But I did it ultimately without much hesitation. The late morning sun beating down on my skin felt amazing, my legs parted, and I feel the sun's heat on my cunt lips. Truth is my cunt is tender this morning, not that that kept me from eagerly receiving another fuck from Jerome's wonderfully consuming cock before leaving the bed. I can still feel his fresh load of cum inside me.

Last night had been amazing. The more we fucked, the more he came, the longer he could fuck before his next climax. That meant the more orgasms I had along the way. We fucked in every position I had known (not many) and new positions he had introduced me to. And then, a few more. At one point, he lifted me into his arms, my legs around his waist, and settled me down over his pole. He walked us downstairs and out the front door. Each step caused his cock to bump deep against the top of my cunt and by the time he stepped outside I was only half aware of it. The slight chill in the air on my sweaty body brought the condition to awareness but I was too far into the feeling to care. He stopped at a large tree next to the street and pressed me against the rough bark to continue fucking me. When the headlights of a car rounded the corner, he rotated us around the tree and the car passed without slowing down, apparently not spotting us. I came as the car passed and Jerome just continued slamming into me.

Several times during the night he woke me with his cock pressing at my cunt. He promised me and he tried to keep that promise to fuck me as much as humanly possible through the night. I didn't know if his cock was tender like my cunt was but he didn't object when I crawled under the kitchen table to suck his cock as he ate. I happily swallowed his cum without the thought of my own food getting cold.

"How are you feeling?"

I shielded my eyes with my hand as I looked up at him as he sat on the adjoining chair, his fingers moving to further part my legs and cunt lips. The action made me smile and purr. There was no hesitation in his action. He touched me in the most intimate ways like this with complete certainty in his action that it was appropriate and acceptable. And, it was. His touches said I was his to touch in whatever way he wanted. My acceptance, parting my legs further, affirmed to him I truly was.

"A bit tender but..." and I moaned softly as his fingers played over those tender, red, and puffy lips, "... but like after you exercise and your body tells you 'good job'. My cunt is saying 'thank you'." There was a pause between us. I sensed something. "What can I do for you?"

"You can talk to me." I looked at him confused. "It's time, Trish. We need to understand what we are doing, what our expectations are, what all this means for us." He looked at me and saw me stiffen slightly. I pulled the chair back up so I was sitting more upright. I had pondered those questions for weeks and had not come to a satisfactory conclusion. Now, he seemed determined to finally get my response. An answer I didn't know I had for him.

So, I stumbled in response. "I'm married..."

"I know that. That is one of the things that pose a question to all this. Are you planning on divorcing him?"

I looked at him shocked. Nothing like that ever crossed my mind. Stan was a good man, just not... "No... that's not what I want." I looked at him with eyes suddenly welling with sadness and fear this was all about to end. "He's a good man, just not everything I need. I don't want to leave him alone. He's the kind of man who needs someone to come home to when he does come home. It's different... I know..."

"What is it you WANT, Trish? What is it YOU want? Why do you want to meet me?"

"You, of course," I blurted out. But he only looked at me. His fingers continued softly moving over my cunt lips, one occasionally slipping between them. "It is you, Jerome, but... your cock... okay? Your cock. God help me but I need to have your cock." My eyes dropped from his pressing eyes to his fingers between my legs. "You woke some part of me up, Jerome, a part of me I didn't know existed. Now that I know it, though, I want to feel those things more, to experience those things and much more. We've done things that are... are just amazing. I didn't know the body could feel such things or do such things... could receive or give so much pleasure." I looked back up at him, my eyes now pleading. "I'm being as honest as I can be, Jerome. I want your cock... but you, too. You're the one who excites me just being around you. Even just sucking you, Jerome, is a gift to me. I know I am pleasing you and it makes me so... fulfilled... different than being fucked but as strong."

He watched me for a moment longer, then, "You did those things this weekend, fucking outside, exposing yourself at the festival, wearing that ridiculous dress to please me?"

I nodded. "I would never have done such a thing except that you wanted it." I paused. "Then... then it was so exciting. I was embarrassed and nervous but more excited. But that's what I mean, Jerome... you want me to do these things and I'm nervous, maybe somewhat afraid, but I trust you and it becomes just amazing. And now I know to expect that. Being nervous, a little afraid is fine but to follow your lead will be awesome."

He smiled, his finger penetrated my hole as if some kind of reward for finally confessing what I truly felt. I moaned and that's the way I reacted; he was pleased with me.

"The thing is, though, what are we going to do with all this?" I looked from my cunt to his eyes. True, I thought, we both know how I feel now but what does that mean? "The thing is, Trish, I'm not looking for a girlfriend much less I wife and you're not leaving your husband, anyway. I already have a flood of women eager to jump in my bed. Most of them, I know, are just gold-diggers hoping to get my money. They won't but I am willing to use them. You see? Do I need another woman just to fuck occasionally?"

I saw the credits to this tragic play rolling behind my eyes. Trish Edwards playing the part of the clueless, cheating housewife. Wait... stop the credits... what was it he said to me? When I was going unconscious, he softly said something I barely connected with. Yes, 'I think you are the one'.

I blurted it out like a desperate grasp to save myself from falling. "Wait... what did you mean I might be the one?"

"You heard that?" Jerome asked.

"Just barely. It was only now that the words meant anything."

He smiled but he was also showing a very serious face. "The one. It would be against all odds to be true, Trish, You're married, You don't want to leave him," He shook his head as if he wasn't sure it was worth continuing. Then, "As I said... I'm not interested in a girlfriend or another woman to fuck with. I am looking for just one thing, one type of woman, and you intrigued me, intrigued me enough to continue."

"What?" I asked. "What, then, are you looking for? What was it that intrigued you?"

He removed his fingers from me. That action alone gave me pause. I like his touch, the way he so confidently touched me as though that was exactly what I was for. I like that. It reflected what it was between us when we were together: he touched me; he fucked me; I sucked him; I was his to do with as he wanted, as it pleased him. It was like all the tumblers of a lock aligning one after the other, a combination that unlocked the meaning of our relationship.

"Tell me, Jerome. What is it I might be for you, what you haven't found in other women?"

His look back to me was deadly serious but that look was in his eyes, that look that told me he was ready to use me most amazingly. "A slut. What I want is a slut. Not a girlfriend with demands. Not a one-night fuck. A slut. A slut that is mine to use how I want, when I want, and in any way that I want. A slut that will respond to me as I wish, that will be challenged to new experiences and situations, that will eagerly please me and others as I choose."

Wow... how does someone react to that? Intellectually, I was stunned silent. Physically, though, I was already reacting and the reaction shocked my intellectual. I flushed with new arousal that had been lost with talk. My nipples were again hard pebbles. My cunt was again wet and leaking with sudden need. But how could any of this be? I was...

"But you're married..." He finished my own thought as if it had been written on my forehead.

Yes, I was and it was still important to me. I got up from the lounge and walked aimlessly to the edge of the pool. The slight breeze that filtered in from the ocean created small ripples on the surface that flashed sunlight to my unseeing eyes. Then, it was as if those flickering flashes of light were stimulating, triggering parts of my brain to create a complex algorithm to analyze what I knew, what I want, and what I could do. But, it didn't need to be that complex. I wanted the sex Jerome gave me and I even wanted the unknown of what he might expect of me. I wanted to not hurt Stan. I still cared for him and he cared for me. Stan wasn't a clueless man. He might be clueless in understanding what a young woman might physically need, but he wasn't clueless about what happened around him. He didn't question my long nights away. Did he really believe I was JUST with the girls or did he see how happy and satisfied I was and let the reason for it be ignored? He showed me no physical interest but it wasn't that he didn't still love me and care about me. I was happy and satisfied after those nights. He was home less and less but I knew it was his job. He was married to it as much as he was to me... maybe more so. He sometimes lamented that he could be gone even more but... he was concerned about me. I saw I was faced with not a choice of lives but two distinct lives: one with Jerome; the other with Stan. Were they exclusive?

I turned back to Jerome who was still sitting on the lounge next to the one I had been on. I sat facing him, my legs parted wide to be outside his. I saw his eyes flicker from my face to my tits to my cunt fully exposed to him.

"What if my being married isn't a conflict?" He looked at me puzzled but interested. "What if Stan accepted that I was your slut but still his wife?" His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Tell me, Jerome... what would your slut be expected to do... be?"

He hadn't expected this. He hesitated. For the first time, I saw him flustered, caught by the unexpected. "Ah... okay... you'd be mine, Trish. Your body, anyway." He paused in thought, then pushed on. "Not as a slave or a weak, mindless submissive... no, I like you as a strong woman who likes, wants sex. You'd be available when I want you; you'd respond to my requests like you have been; you'd give yourself over to me to use and..." he looked at me intently, significantly, "and to share if when I wanted." He paused.

I interjected, "Shared... as in given to others to use?"

He nodded, his eyes fixed on mine for reaction. "Yes but always under my guidance and conditions. You wouldn't be a whore, Trish. You would be a slut who gives and receives sex in many, many forms." I was quiet, in thought as I pondered what he was saying. I wouldn't be a whore but it seemed there was a fine line between being a whore and a slut as he described it. My quiet but thoughtful quiet spurred him. "You'd have to trust me on this, Trish. You'd have to trust I would take care of you and keep you safe. You'd have to trust that when I pushed you to do something you questioned internally that you would be in my protection and safety. But you would need to accept my control and respond."

"It's a lot, Jerome."

"It is. It's the woman I want. A woman who isn't after her own agenda, a woman without ulterior motives, a woman whose interest is in sex, both giving and receiving, and a desire to explore new forms and ways to experience sex." His fingers returned to my body. One hand lifting a tit he was so fascinated by and the other slipping between my legs to my cunt. My legs parted easily for him. "Are you that woman, Trish? Could you be my slut?"

I could. I knew I could. I wanted cock and, yes, it was Jerome I was attracted to and who I responded to, but the idea of other men, other cocks was an exciting thought. So... what about Stan?

* * * *

"Are you sure about this?" Jerome questioned.

We stood outside the front door of my home... Stan and my home. I had convinced Jerome after several discussions that I knew Stan and finally had figured out what his personality was. I had begun to think he didn't care about me when he didn't show suspicion about my late nights. The truth, I was now sure, was entirely different. He just cared so much in a way I couldn't have anticipated. I had Jerome follow me home from my office. Stan had been home a day and would make his day back short to take care of things at home, as was his practice.

I opened the front door and led the way in with Jerome following behind. Stan was t the kitchen table on his laptop and copious notes from his trip. He stood and turned as the door opened.

"Hi, honey," he began, "I missed... you." The hesitation coming as he saw a strongly built black man following close behind me. He strode across the room to us, kissed me, and put his hand out to Jerome. They shook and exchanged names. He turned to me and a smile grew over his face. "So, my dear, this is who you've been seeing..."

I smiled at Jerome who had a stunned look of disbelief. "Yes, honey. I met Jerome when I was out with the girls. That part was true. That I spent much of that night with Jerome and not the girls was something I excluded."

He glanced at Jerome and back to me. "As well as following Friday nights, I presume." I nodded. He turned to Jerome and I saw the bigger, stronger man tense. Stan put out his hand, again. Jerome awkwardly shook it, again. Stan added, "Thank you." This clearly stunned Jerome. "Trish has never seemed happier, content, or fulfilled as she has since meeting you. Of course, I didn't know who it was she was meeting but if she was happy..."

He turned back to me, "So... are you here now to ask for a divorce?"

"God, no, Stan! I still love you. I didn't want to hurt you but..."

"You had your needs." I nodded. "Frankly, I was afraid of that. I was afraid you'd wake up someday and discover things you've missed being with me. Sometimes we don't understand ourselves. I didn't understand I would find my work more fulfilling and exciting than sex, for instance."

I hugged Stan. "I think we both came to realizations at about the same time about ourselves. I don't want a divorce. I do want things that will be different for us, though. Jerome has offered a new option to my life and I hope it can fit into our understanding."

He motioned to the living room for us to be comfortable. How civilized when you are about to tell your spouse you want to be another man's slut.

"Jerome feels I would be a good slut for him." I blurted it out and watched Stan. He blinked. There was a tell that he hadn't expected that. Take a lover? Sure. Be another man's slut? Not what he was expecting.

We talked about it. It seemed insane and bizarre. I wondered for a moment if Stan was simply so shocked he wasn't reacting properly. But he was approaching it all with his normal business analysis. Stan was not an emotional man. Finally, he asked if I was sure. Live as his wife like before but openly being Jerome's slut to be used as slut for whatever sexual usage he might imagine. He asked why Jerome was different for me to have such drastic feelings.

I looked at Jerome. "I want to show him what I feel."

"You're kidding," Jerome responded. I shook my head. If Stan saw, his reasoning brain would compute understanding.

I stood and looked at Stan. "I want to show you why he is different and how he makes me feel. Then, you'll understand."

I had Jerome stand and I knelt in front of him. I worked his belt loose, then his pants. After pushing his pants down his thighs, I lowered his boxers.

"I think I'm already understanding," Stan muttered.

I had the massive cock in one hand, my tan hand on his black cock, not covering half of it and it wasn't hard. I licked the underside from base to head, then opened my mouth wide to take the bulbous head between my lips and into my mouth. Only a few inches at first. I moaned, as I frequently do with it in my mouth. The feel of the pronounced veins as it begins to swell, lengthen, and harden. I sucked and sucked and licked and licked. I pushed my mouth down over the monster and heard Stan gasp as I took more and more into my mouth to the entrance of my throat and I had to pull back as my gag reflex kicked in.

I pulled my mouth off and turned to Stan. The cock in my hand was wet with my saliva and straining hard. I put my forearm up to it to show him perspective. It was nearly as long and as thick as my wrist.

"I love this cock, honey. I need to have it. And, Jerome is such a powerful lover." I stood up, letting the cock fall from my hand and sag down. I reached behind and unzipped the dress I wore to work. I shrugged it off my shoulders and pushed it down over my hips. I then reached behind me and released my bra before stepping out of my panties. I pushed Jerome onto the couch and turned my back to him, short-stepping back with my feet outside his and settling down, taking his cock in my hand, again, and aligning it to my cunt. I looked to Stan who sat open-mouthed and eyes wide.

"You can't... get that inside you... can you?" Stan stammered.

"I want to show you what this cock does to me."

I lowered myself until I felt the head press against my hole. I gasped and sucked in air as I continued to settle slowly down. I paused, rose slightly, and lowered myself further. Up and down. I was moaning before I settled on Jerome's thighs. I started rising and dropping, my eyes closed and I released a continuous stream of moans, groans, and gasps. I rose up until just the head was still lodged in my cunt. I held myself there and looked directly at Stan.

"Can you see why I love fucking this cock, dear? Can you blame me for wanting to? For having to fuck it?" I dropped down fully, the cock hitting me deep inside and both Jerome and I climaxed. Jerome held me as he thrust up into me with each spurt as my body shook and convulse on his spewing cock.

I collapsed back into Jerome. Stan, directly in front of me, had his eyes fixed on the black cock buried in his white wife. Jerome's hands moved from my hips to my tits, fondling and mashing them. I gazed at Stan and gave him a weak smile.

"Do you see, dear, why I want to be his slut? I need cock, dear. I experienced this and I need to have it... big cock, especially. But, whatever size, I need cock."

He stood. For a moment I was afraid he was sickened, rather than convinced. He didn't leave, though. Instead, he cross the space between us and knelt between our spread legs. He lowered his head and kissed my cunt lips. For all I know, he also kissed Jerome's cock in the process. But he kissed my just fucked cunt lips, cunt lips that still held the black cock that just fucked me. I looked into his eyes when he looked up at me, as he rose and kissed my lips.

"All I've ever wanted was for you to be happy, Trish. I know I haven't done a good job with the emotional and sex part. I want you to be my wife and I'll take care of you like always. If being a slut to Jerome will make you happy... yes." He looked over my shoulder. "You will take care of her? Promise?"