I'd never wanted Sean again since the moment I had found out he was cheating on me. Not being able to bear looking in his eyes, I had picked my heart up off the floor, turned, and walked away without ever looking back. That was two years before. I haven't had a boyfriend since. He's been with her since. Funny how things work out.
It seems like everyone decided to talk to me about sex all of the sudden in the same week. At work someone had mentioned to me that she had her first ever threesome that weekend with another couple. The very next evening the guy who's warehouse I'm painting begins by telling me about his wife's lack of interest in sex and follows it up with a lengthy lecture on why I should take up masturbation, since I'm a single woman with "needs" and all. I tell him I disagree. He laughs. The next night I call to tell him I won't be in to paint for him and we end up having phone sex for nearly an hour. I don't think his wife would appreciate hearing how sexy her husband's voice is from me. But phone sex seemed like an appetizer that simply warmed me up for the real thing. As my lust grew, so did the stories.
The cashier at the gas station asked me if I'd had a good lay lately. I smirked and paid for my gas. My best friend called to tell me about the amazing new position she and her boyfriend had tried the night before. An old college roommate sent me a smut-filled e-mail containing great details about the fun tricks her new boyfriend can do that drive her wild. Sex, sex, sex, sex, SEX. It surrounded me, it consumed me, it taunted me. That next Monday Sean called.
I was house-sitting for his parents' house and he wanted to stop by and use their laundry room. I agreed to a time and decided to take a quick shower before he came, absent mindedly putting on the perfume he had long since given me after drying off. Answering his knock at the door he greeted me with a lingering hug as he mentioned how nice I smelled and pushed his hips a little closer towards mine. As he separated whites and colors I went back to his parent's bedroom where I had been using the bed to spread out my homework. Easing into my reading in my sweats and T-shirt, I failed to notice how the top of my thong stuck out the back of my pants as I leaned into my work.
Sean did notice, however, and excited me by running a curious finger just under the elastic of it as he entered the room. "I don't think your girlfriend would appreciate you playing with other women's underwear," I warned him as he moved books and papers to the floor to lie down on the bed beside me.
He smiled with his uneven, large black lips that screamed for me to kiss them, to take them between my teeth and tongue. I instinctively licked my own lips, that were "full - for a white person" as he had always described them. I must have exuded desire more than the old perfume, because he plucked the psychology book from my hand and guestured for me to lay next to him.
As I obeyed, Sean recalled all the times I tried to get him to fuck me in his parents bed. He would never do it. I always thought there was some raw, naughty kinkiness to doing "it" in between the Forbidden Parent sheets instead of his own, but the closest he would come to having sex in their room was in their shower one cold winter morning. Smiling, I closed my eyes to try and picture how good it had felt to watch his dark figure hover over me as his long, black cock spread open my pale legs and disappeared within my creamy folds. I was picturing exactly the look that would always cross his face just before he was about to cum when I felt his strong hand move under my T-shirt and up to my breasts.
