Since then, they'd experimented with all different kinds of love-making. She'd practiced with various dildos to try to open herself up better for him. But she'd still remained unable to get his entire length inside her. Or brave enough to even attempt his long-held fantasy of anal. He'd told her many times, usually after he'd finished bringing her to shrieking climax with his devilish tongue, that he couldn't ask for more. That he loved her tight little body and her cute little boobies as much as he loved her brain and her big heart. That any sexual incompatibility she might be insecure about was imagined, conjured by social expectation.
Still, it gnawed at her. It gnawed at her when she saw him training hot young models or voluptuous housewives. It gnawed at her when she took him to the Christmas party and the other women at the office flocked to grab his attention and asked her how she'd managed to get him under her thumb. Even worse was when she was with her family. Her mother always complained that she wasn't "good enough" to him. She'd wanted her to be a homemaker, and she considered Juan's entire career as a bit of selfish rebellion. As far as she was concerned, Juan should spend all day cooking and cleaning, and waiting by the door to blow Mark as soon as he came in.
Her two sisters were dating white guys too, but their relationships were far more heteronormative. They told her it was a big thing with Asian-American girls their age, a kind of forbidden fruit ripe with erotic possibilities. They followed in their mother's footsteps in criticizing the way that she "took care of her man." She didn't like it either how they, who despite being her junior, were both taller than she was, loved to press their bodies to his every holiday, as if inviting him to have a feel.
That night though, she wasn't imagining him pressing himself to tighter, slimmer Asian girls. She was imagining him with Joanna, their big, gorgeous European bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Joanna would turn back to Juan, who sat in the corner watching them make love and just give her a little smile that said "I'll take care of this. You can get back to work."
The terrifying vision was only compounded by the thrill inherent to it. Juan had worried so often about not being enough. There was some comfort in the acceptance of that came with the confirmation of those fears. The thrill thankfully vanished with her accelerated orgasm, replaced with embarrassment at the prematurity of her own orgasm.
She tried to make it up to Mark by taking his entire length, which turned out to be just as overambitious as ever. But she was able to reward him for making her come undone so quickly with a lengthy lovemaking session. And as arousal was superseded by love, her worries about Joanna disappeared. Mark loved her and she loved him. No amount of bosom or ass was going to get in the way of that. She put the worry from her mind and it hardly bothered her until a few days later, when during a lunch break, she swung by the gym to bring Mark lunch and found him in his gym clothes rolling around on the mat with Joanna.
"Oh! Hey!" His smile couldn't have been more innocent. Did he really not think he was doing anything wrong?
Joanna on the other hand, who's skin-tight leotard left nothing to the imagination, didn't even try to hide her malevolence. As she tussled with Mark, it was completely obvious to Juan that she was letting him win. Again and again, she'd put up a cursory fight, only breaking his hold on her long enough for him to get her into a lewder position. And all the while, as she rubbed her sweaty, spandex-wrapped body all over Mark's legs, shoulders, groin...she wore that same, horrible smile that Juan had imagined she would.
It was like a waking nightmare, and like all true nightmares, Juan was too shocked by its reality to intercept its inevitable conclusion. After what seemed like hours, but what was only a few minutes, Joanna turned on Mark, lulling him into a false sense of security and then effortlessly bucking him off, climbing on top of him and pinning him to the floor with her thighs around his head.
"Surrender and I let you breathe." She said, glancing over her shoulder and smiling down where his handsome face lay hidden by her cyan leggings.
Mark struggled for a moment. Then he slapped first the mat and then the outside of her toned thigh in increasing desperation. Joanna opened her legs slowly, teasing him with his first gasp of air and grinning hideously as he inhaled her humid aroma of her juicy, camel toed twat. Juan felt her stomach somehow sink lower in her at the sight. It was wretched enough, the idea that Joanna's size and imperturbability made her Juan's superior. But seeing her demonstrate her dominance over Juan's husband as well, somehow more deeply crippled Juan's already crumbling confidence. It was like both her and Mark, as well as their marriage lay prone in Joanna's meaty hands, a baby bird with a broken wing.
"Your husband is a quite the wrestler." Joanna said, dragging her core down Mark's washboard abs as she slid off him and pausing, almost imperceptibly, just above the belt line. "He must keep you quite fit." She said, casting another smirk of sacrilegious sarcasm in Juan's direction.
Juan fumed. She wanted to launch herself at the bitch. To rip out her hair and claw at her eyes and kick her in the cunt and make her promise never to touch her man again.
Instead, she stood at the edge of the mat, staring at Joanna's perfect ass sway in those eye-attracting sweatpants. There was no point in violence. Juan might get one or two kicks in thanks to the element of surprise. But Joanna could fold every bone in her body without breaking a sweat. Not to mention Mark would jump in to drag her off her.
Then Joanna would be able to take Juan to court for assault and Juan, a wife afraid of her husband's infidelity, would lose. The scenario played out in Juan's head with terrible vividness. Joanna lounging on Juan's king-sized bed while she spent the night in a cold cell.
Joanna sitting atop Mark's perfect face and grinding her sweat-soaked cunt across his chiseled face as she petted his hair and told him "Don't worry, I'll keep you company until she gets out."
Of course that would never happen. Firstly, because Juan had enough money and good enough lawyers that the worst, she'd probably get was house-arrest. But secondly and more importantly, because she knew, deep down, that Mark would never betray her by allowing himself to become the scratching board for this licentious lioness.
Probably.
"I didn't know you knew my wife..." Mark said, suddenly confused and very nervous.
Had they been fooling around even more before she arrived? Had they just been flirting? Or had it been more sinister? Had he been thinking about her, admiring her form, imagining what she was like in the sack? Had he leapt at the opportunity to roll around with her when she inevitably suggested it?
Juan knew that Mark finding Joanna attractive shouldn't be worse than him flirting with her. But it was...somehow. It was because Joanna was objectively attractive, the kind of woman that some men would lavish fortunes on, in exchange for a brief smile or a blown kiss. But the idea of him liking her, of him liking her for something other than her body, that was emotional infidelity and it was far more stomach churning than anything physical he could do, because it meant that it wasn't just her body she should feel inadequate about.
"I interviewed to be her secretary." Joanna said, leaning down to take her things off the bench by the wall and shaking her massive ass as she did so. Was she showing off for Mark? Or for Juan? She'd known Juan's last name, known his last name was Finnish. There couldn't be many "Mr. Hannola"s in this city. She must have tracked him down to seduce him, as some kind of bizarre retribution for Juan dismissing her.
And yet...Mark wasn't looking in Joanna's direction as she shook that enormous, remarkably sculpted caboose. He was staring at Juan. Juan was staring in Joanna's direction and, judging from the secret smile that Joanna cast her way as she straightened up, picking up her water bottle and tossing the towel over her shoulder, she knew it.
Juan was suddenly just as confused as her husband was. And judging from the unmistakable tenting of his shorts that Joanna's ripe pussy must have elicited, just as aroused. Juan had never considered herself bisexual. She had admired the bodies of other women of course, but that was something that all women did, wasn't it? She'd never had the urge to feel the weight of another woman's tit in her hand or to plunge her tongue into another woman's canal. But there was something irresistibly seductive about Joanna that made Juan question everything. She didn't want to shove her little nose up that tight ass crack and inhale Joanna's natural musk. But she wondered what it might be like. She didn't want to see Joanna riding Mark until he forgot her name and painted her womb with Scandinavian sperm.
But she wondered what it might be like.
"Oh...uh, well, I guess I can skip introductions then." Mark said, finally getting up and trying and failing to hide his obvious hard-on as he hurried over to Juan. "She uh...booked me for half the day. We went through all the usual stuff and then she uh...asked if I knew how to wrestle."
Juan just stared at him. Did he expected her to just believe that their sexually charged duel had started out naively? How stupid did he think she was?
