Amy Ch. 02byluvz2x©
The ending here may change a little, but for the most part, it's done. Part 3 and maybe a Part 4 will appear right after the first of the year. Like I said in Part 1, this is the first time I've tried to write in the persona of a man. Let me know what you think. Cass...
Amy- Part 2: It Gets Complicated
There were still a few cars in the lot and a couple of my colleagues walking around campus, but for the most part it was empty. My first inclination, once I got into my classroom, was to call a lawyer and file for divorce. She would get almost nothing. The house and most of my hard assets were in a trust I'd originally established with my late wife. After her death the insurance settlement from the truck driver's company, along with her life and accidental death policy, had made me wealthy- which is the only reason I could afford to live in Cowan Heights. A teacher's salary certainly wouldn't have been enough. And I'd much rather have had my family than the money or house... especially now.
The picture kept playing like a looped video. His fingers sensually kneading her firm tanned breasts, teasing her nipples to an almost painful tautness. Her lips and tongue so quickly bringing him to such a height of sexual arousal. But it was the pulse of his sex, those primal contractions of muscle and turgid flesh filling her with his seed as he climaxed, that most haunted me. And made me crazy; it was the most electrifying sight I had ever witnessed. Her pleasure, the look of complete sexual abandon on her face as she sat quivering, impaled to the hilt on his thick black staff, was beyond description.
Yet only that morning, with sleep still hanging like a light fog behind my eyes, the body bringing her pleasure had been mine. Her mouth had brought me out of slumber to full sexual arousal. My tongue had teased her clitoris out of its thin fleshy sheath. My lips had taunted her labia into a state of pink, plump lust. Her moans had been in my ears, her kisses had been on my lips, and her body had taken my seed.
The screen on the phone looked back at me with its idiotic silver stare. 411. That's all I had to do was dial 411 and the process would start. I could get a referral, make a call, and the process necessary to take this pain away would begin its glacial but inevitable journey.
Maybe there was another way. What if we talked first? Maybe went to counseling. Maybe this was the first time she'd had sex with him. Maybe she was somehow or another feeling guilty, like it was something that you'd normally leave in Vegas. She'd just somehow lost control and allowed herself to be seduced. But the thong said otherwise. But maybe that was meant for me; I would have been home a few hours later. We'd had a lot of sex since we got married. At night almost every night, one of us would begin the seduction. Not just nights, but mornings, just like this morning, and after lunch, or in the Jacuzzi, or by the pool. Like if she were standing at the kitchen sink. I'd spoon up behind her and slip my hand down the front of her jeans beneath her panties. She would lean back into me, our mouths would meet, and the slow waltz into our secrets of touch and foreplay would begin.
My middle finger would probe her petals and slip between them as they swelled and moistened at my touch. She would at first gasp, then coo. I would slip my other hand under her blouse, insinuating myself to her beautiful fleshy mounds, unbuttoning buttons along the way, pressing the firm round globes and stiffening brown nipples with a palm. She would allow the top to fall off her shoulders as she turned to face me. My hands would slip behind her and hers behind me, pulling each toward the other. Soon she would be down to her bra and panties, I to my underwear. Sometimes she would go to her knees and take me in her mouth; other times we would go into the bedroom, dropping our remaining clothes along the way, and she would take me in her mouth as she sat, naked, on the edge of the bed.
As my arousal became absolute, I would move her back toward the pillows, part her knees, and nibble my way up the inside of her thighs to her bald, glazed pussy.
"Oh God, Michael," she would whimper and yelp as my tongue began its probe, "your tongue..." and her breath would quicken as I licked her feminine folds and gently mouthed the nub of her clit. "... you make me crazy." Her hands would be at the back of my head, nudging me first to flirt with this spot, then another. "... don't stop... don't stop."
I would insert my finger into her, moving it in and out in imitation of the primordial undulations of sex. "Please," she said, her hips moving in rhythm to my finger as she would start the moans leading to her eventual orgasm, "stop teasing me," and I would tantalize her with a tongue on her clit.
Her arms would begin to pull me up to her, my lips taunting her navel as I moved up, my teeth nipping at the curve of her breasts, my tongue teasing in twirls at each firm nipple. "I need you to fuck me now," she would playfully growl. He body would guide me, her knees, her thighs, her ankles, until the tip of my swollen organ nestled at her damp budding womanhood.
Then I would slowly begin penetrating her yielding flesh, my own stiff mast slick with her saliva and vaginal juices, her hips pushing, thrusting up to take it all inside her lusting body until our pubic mounds kissed in coital bliss.
As inevitably as the rhythm of the tides, our tempo would rise. "Michael," she would whimper and moan as my engorged cock ravaged her vagina, "harder, harder baby." Her hips would meet my every thrust. "Oh God yes, Michael," she would start to chirp, "keep fucking me harder baby harder, make me cum, oh Michael baby, I gonna cum all over your big fat cock, baby, I'm cumming baby, oh baby here it is...," and the animal wailing, the savage moaning, the frantic pumping as wave after wave of sexual tension, sensual excitement, and unbridled lust wracked her quaking body.
As her body went out of control, the electricity of my own orgasm would release inside of me. "You ready to take my hot sticky cum, baby?" I would hiss as the sparks began to form in my loins.
"Oh please Michael," she would always reply, "cum in me baby, cum deep inside my pussy." Her reciprocation instantly became more regular, sensual, less frantic, sexier. Her cunt was sucking, massaging, caressing, masturbating my cock.
At that moment the primeval instinct to inseminate always blasted through me on like a lightening bolt. It always begins as a tingle on the underside of the swollen cockhead then, like the sudden snap of a rubber band, it jolts the muscle at the organ's base and thick ropes of cum pump deep into the deepest parts of her body. As I saw it in my mind now, over and over again: Dwight the mailman's thick black muscle pulsating over and over again. Amy my wife's swollen white pussy taking every thick, creamy drop over and over again.
"Information" said the quasi-mechanical male voice on the other end of the phone, "how can I help you." It was human but sounded like a recording. He probably said this same boring thing 1000 times a day.
"I need to get a referral to a lawyer," I said after thinking for a moment.
"I can connect you to either legal aid or the bar association," he replied with cool professional indifference.
I hung up. My stomach was in knots but I could not make this call. I was angry, hurt, and had been betrayed, yet there it was, something sullied, something dark and puerile: the perverse excitement of watching. I turned off my computer, locked the classroom door, and started the drive home. It was twilight when I left, a twenty minute drive that seemed interminable but passed before I was aware that I was pulling into the garage and it was still twilight.
I didn't know what to expect when I walked through the door. Maybe a guilt-ridden woman in tears, trying to find a way to tell me she'd been unfaithful. Maybe a column of suitcases lined up by the door silently declaring her impending departure into the arms of another man.
But what I got was a variation of what I got most nights. She was sitting on the couch reading a new issue of Vogue wearing her pink shorts and candy-stripe blouse, her long tanned legs folded behind her. On the end table next to the day's mail was a glass of chardonnay with soft lipstick marks on the rim.
"Hey sweetheart," she cooed, "sounds like your meeting really sucked." To hear it in her voice, absolutely nothing had happened.
"Yeah," I replied as I walked over to sort through the envelopes, "Elliot was his usual asshole self." Gas bill, something from American Express. Not a bill, toss. "As a department chair he knows how to move paper," security company, something from my broker, my bank, my insurance company, "but he does not know how to deal with people." I set the stack back onto the end table.
She stood up and set the magazine down on the couch, folded back to the page she had been reading. "You want a glass of wine before dinner?"
"What are we having?" My stomach was still in knots but I hadn't had a bite to eat since breakfast. This was turning into a Kabuki dance.
"Pasta and herb salad with pesto, and some broiled salmon," she replied. She picked up her wine glass and put her arms around my neck, the glass suspended between her thumb and index finger like a child's beach pail. "Or, we could relax a little before..." Her lips brushed against mine, her whispered words smoky, sultry.
I put my hands on her hips, slid them down to her cheeks and pulled her close. She was wearing her thong. "That sounds good. The wine can wait." The same one I'd seen wedged in the door. The one she'd worn just before she fucked the postman.
"You can have both, you know," she laughed, again the sound, smoky, sexy. "I'll bring you a glass.
"Perfect!" She walked into the kitchen. I walked out the sliding doors to the patio, flipped the two power switches- one for lights, the other for jets- and turned toward the Jacuzzi just as the jets kicked in. The lid was already off, and steam began dancing up from the bubbling eddies and whorls. I took off my clothes.
She came around the corner of the building just as I was lowering myself into the hot pool. She was wearing nothing but two glasses of wine. Smiling, she handed me my glass. "Looks like you're happy to see me." She was right- at least one part of my body was happy to see her.
I was on the second step down. She passed on my left, took a sip of wine then set the frosty glass down and turned to face me. My cock was fully erect and she was looking right at it. Her fingertips were cold as she touched me. Her lips and tongue were cool when she took me in her mouth.
I looked down at her. She was on her knees, her firm tits swaying as her head moved up and down my swollen shaft. She looked up at me, "you like?" her eyes seeming to say.
"Oh baby, I like!" My hands cupped her head and gently pushed my manhood deep into her throat. "I can't take too much of this lover," I moaned, "I'm almost ready to cum right now." The slide show playing behind my closed eyes, my wife licking and sucking off the juices of their lovemaking from his thick black staff, was driving me to a quick orgasm.
She laughed, "that's ok" and slid me back into her mouth. A few more strokes and I pushed her head down to the hilt of my cock, her lips sealed against my flesh. My cock throbbed as thick ropes of cum were pumped into her mouth and down her throat. A few creamy streams found their way out of the side of her lips and fell in white globs onto her tanned brown breasts. She exposed her tongue and the little white pool of my seed floating on top, then swallowed.
"Mmmm good!" she laughed, licking her lips.
She slid her body into the pool, the tips of her long blonde hair fanning out and turning dark in the water. Her perky nipples bobbed easily from side to side, suspended, while small currents washed the semen off the firm mounds of tanned skin. The puffy pink petals between her spread legs left nothing to the imagination. "I hope you saved some for later," she sighed as she took a sip from her glass.
"Mmmm baby, that was so good." And it was. I sat down next to her and twirled my wine into a miniature maelstrom. "So, how was your day?" I asked, finally taking a sip.
Drops of condensation carved a maze of watery pathways down the glass as she lifted it to her lips "Didn't do much. Washed clothes, changed sheets, did a little grocery shopping." Fucked the postman and made him cum four times. But that didn't get mentioned. .
"Did you ever get out to Pasadena?" She shivered as my fingers marched with glacial slowness up her thigh. She teased the underside of my semi-erect penis by running a fingernail from the base to the helmet, and it quickly responded.
She leaned her head back against the edge of the pool and closed her eyes, taking in the sexuality of the moment. "No, never made it. She called- as usual- I don't know why I put up with it, sometimes."
"Well, maybe because she's Greg's sister." I probably shouldn't have said that. Maybe it was a little cruel, but the comment never went any further. My finger halted at her womanhood, probed her, pinched her, teased the bare folds of sensitive flesh. Her breath started to change, become ragged, irregular. A series of quick gasps replaced her normal breathing.
"What are you doing to me?" she moaned. She had started to masturbate me. In spite of having cum a few minutes before, my sex was enflamed, fully engorged and ready to penetrate her.
"This." I slid a hand behind her back, lifted her from her ass cheeks, and sat her in my lap. Her back arched against my hands and she gasped when my thick shaft slipped between her pussy lips and slid effortlessly into her body.
"You don't know how good your pussy feels right now," I murmured softly in her ear, "you are so fucking wet, so ready." Of course it was. We began kissing passionately, her tongue parting my lips and darting like a hummingbird through a garden. I palmed her tits as we kissed, plying the nipples between my fingers while she used her body to pursue her pleasures with my enflamed penis. We settle into a slow, sensual rhythm.
"So, what else did you end up doing today," I whispered casually. My lips wandered down her neck, into the cleavage, and onto the tip of each perfect mound.
She continued her pursuit. "God Michael, you always make me feel so good." We continued kissing, caressing, making love. Her movements were slow and sensual. We were both living totally in the moment.
"I called my mom..." she said absently, "...did some shopping..." her words wandering in between gasps and sighs "... for your birthday..." continued caressing, kissing, fondling, "...a package... oh god, deeper Michael... from the postman..."
She chirps, pants animal sounds, her lips next to my ear, "Ohhh Michael, baby, your cock feels so good." Her pursuit quickens, becomes less sensual, more eager, more sexual, more erotic. "I'm cumming baby, I'm cumming oh God baby I'm cumming," she groans as her orgasm starts to unwind.
"What was it?" I ask, knowing the real answer but not really caring. My cock is now his black cock, a thick hard piston crushing deep into her her pussy. My hands are now his hands, his palms kneading her breasts, his fingers toying her clitoris. As her tempo moves to a forte, my own climax builds toward fortissimo.
"So big oh God baby, I'm cumming, harder baby, deeper, make me cum make cum." It is babble, ecstatic orgiastic babble, but it puts me over the edge. I pull her down, hard, onto my throbbing cock, and explode. Semen spills out of the gaps between my stiff pole and her pussy. It swirls in little white streamers like confetti through the turbulence of water and bodies.
Number five or six, depending on how you're keeping score.
Her thighs still straddle me and I am still inside her body. Her arms are still around my neck, my hands still resting on her hips. Our breathing slows down in the afterglow of some really great lovemaking. "You know I'm not going to tell you, Michael!" she giggles girlishly; I suddenly remember the question. "How would it be a birthday surprise, then?" We both stand and towel each other off, water coursing down our naked bodies onto the wooden deck. Little white congealed balls of cum have wedged in my pubic mound and thin streams drain from the glazed pink gash between her legs.
She looks down and throws up her arms. "I'm a certainly mess!" she laughs. I watch the spunk slip thickly down her leg for a moment before I towel it off, wondering how much of it was mine and how much was the postman's
We hold hands and walk back toward the house, heading for the kitchen. "I'm ravenous!" I announce. We'd been screwing for almost an hour; it had certainly whetted my appetite.