He stepped in close behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. With her right hand, she reached up and ran her hand through his hair and closed her eyes, sighing contently as he began to plant light kisses on her throat.
It's wrong, she thought, what am I doing? Part of her wanted to make him stop, to say that she was his wife's best friend. That they cannot, would not, do this. But there was another side that said otherwise. That side wanted and needed his affections; that side had always known that they would end up alone together, in her bedroom or his. That side was in control now. Her desire dulled feelings of obligation and honor, all the expectations and demands where cast aside as they stood transfixed in infinity.
Sensing her lust, he lightly turned her head to his, and kissed her deeply on the mouth. Their tongues intermingled together as one, as he gently cupped her left breast. He was hard now.
He had wanted her, needed her since they had met in college. Somehow it didn't happen, and he had ended up with her best friend. It was different then. Black girls didn't date white boys and vice versa. And so she, who should have been his, married another. They had known it then. They had always known it, and now she would be his, and he hers.
Her heart was pounding in her chest now, and she could feel herself becoming very aroused as the fantasy of all her fantasies came true. He reached up and pulled the straps off her dress, one, and then the other, and unzipped the back slowly. The material came away easy, and she stepped out on the heap wearing nothing but a sheer pair of light violet panties. She stood proudly before him, her skin like midnight, and her nipples standing out in the cool air. Boldly, she did not attempt to cover herself; she looked into his eyes and saw the fire within. The fire she fell in love with long ago. She began by yanking off his tie, and then quickly unbuttoning his white shirt, revealing his toned physique. She saw the scar that he earned while at war and ran her finger over it. He unbuttoned his pants and took her into his arms, kissing her breasts. She gasped at the ferocity of his desire, as he gently laid her on the bed. Once again they kissed deeply; she saw tears of happiness rolled down his face. It was as he dreamed it would be. It was perfect.
Slowly, he began to move down her body, showering every curve and crevice with his affections, moving slowly down to her pussy. She was burning like a furnace down their, her juices had already soaked through her underwear, and they were quickly discarded. Down there, he breathed in her scent, and began by kissing the insides of her thighs, slowly moving closer and closer to her jewel. She began to make sweet noises of encouragement as her anticipation heightened by the second. Slowly, with the dedication of a man intent on taking his time, he began to work her pussy with his tongue and fingers. He could feel her body jump as she pushed her hips towards him, begging for more. Slowly he stroked her clit, feeling her move closer and closer to ecstasy. He slowed his teasing, and allowed the wave of pleasure to roll back, despite her whimpers to be taken over the edge. Then he started again to drive her again. Any control she possessed was lost, as she cried out again and again. A flicker of thought went through her mind as to whether she could survive much longer. It was then he decided to push her over the edge. He worked her like an instrument, hard and fast. She had never experienced anything like it before. She was humping his face has hard as she could, begging, pleading, dignity forgotten, for release as her passion arched higher and higher. When it came, she arched her back and grabbed a hold of his hair, holding on for dear life as her orgasm swept over her like a tidal wave.
