Trey

We wiled away the day in my bed, on the covers, under the covers—at times completely tangled up in the covers. We laughed, and lusted, and loved. I can't look at my bed now without memories of him, of us, bringing a fresh hot shiver of desire through me. True to his word, that first time was truly an episode of lovemaking. There can be no other way to describe how he touched me, caressed me, kissed me. I had never before felt so cherished, so delicate. From that first, long stroke, to the feel of his cum pulsing into me, I was in heaven. When he laid his sweaty brow against mine and smiled at me, I was lost. Tracing my fingers ever-so-lightly along the plane of his cheek, I reached up to kiss him, just once, lightly.

I gasped when he took the opportunity to deepen my kiss, opening my lips and stroking me with his tongue the way he had just stroked me with that sexy dick. As I moaned in exquisite pleasure, I felt him hardening inside of me, bringing about a fresh rush of liquid longing. Oh, how our pleasure each fed off the other. Slowly, slowly he began to stroke in and out of me, teasing me, each soft slide of skin on skin causing a fresh bloom of pleasure to burst inside me.

Hours blended into hours as we shared the sanctity of my bed. Neither of us cared to leave our haven, and we managed to spend the entire day entwined in each other's embrace. To my everlasting joy and extreme pleasure, we even napped with him still inside of me, something I had so often dreamed of. The feel of his hard, sweet body wrapped around me, spooning against me, is another of those memories that I will forever treasure. He aroused feelings in me in one day that my husband of seventeen years had never begun to touch on.

As the afternoon wore on, our loving became almost bittersweet. I didn't want our idyllic time to end, but didn't relish the thought of my husband coming home to find his best friend in bed with his wife, either. I knew that Trey had cancelled his appointments for that day, but I couldn't expect him to continue doing that for the week he was here. I found myself in the unenviable position of loving what I had—and craving more of this forbidden treat.

Our long, last sweet kiss in that bed was one of such depth, such emotion. Stroking the hair back from my face, Trey had leaned down over me, covering me with his body, letting me feel every inch of him against every quivering inch of me. Softly, slowly, he brushed his lips back and forth over mine, before leaning into me and deepening the embrace. One hand slid around my back, pressing us together, while the other so gently held the back of my neck, his thumb softly caressing my cheek, wiping away my unbidden tear. Rolling us over, he held me on top of him, still kissing me, legs entangled while his hand stroked my back, soothing me.

With a shudder of longing, I finally pulled away. Standing beside my bed, I let my gaze fill with the image of this man who had shown me things I had never known about myself. Knowing how desperately I was struggling with myself, he shot me a cocky grin, and asked which one of us would get the shower first, since we couldn't be trusted to be in there together again today. At this subtle insinuation, my heart raced, and I gasped. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he pulled me to him, burying his face against my soft, white skin, saying that now he'd had a bite, he was hungry for more—much more. And while his lips may have been smiling, the seriousness in his eyes told a different story—one that went straight to my heart, making it twist and fly and tremble inside me.

It was with minutes to spare that we both made our way out of the bedroom, each finding something to occupy us, before my husband came home from work. Trey settled into the living room, turning on the tv and working on his laptop, spreading papers out to make it look as if he'd been busy for a while. I pulled out ingredients for dinner, knowing that the mundane task of fixing a meal would soothe my still-visible trembling. When my husband walked in the door, I was able to pretend that the motions of the knife necessitated a quick kiss on his cheek, but the truth was that if they weren't Trey's lips on mine, I didn't want them.

Taking no notice of my preoccupation, my husband walked into the living room and started talking with Trey, asking how his day went. Smooth as ever, Trey replied that his day had gone fine, and he felt like he had gotten deep into his meeting, with very favorable results. Hearing his choice of words and knowing the context in which he meant them, my knees buckled. My husband, ever innocent, never caught on.

Gasping for air like a fish out of water, I struggled to concentrate on the task at hand. Eyes blurring with a renewed onslaught of lust, I prayed that my hands would work of their own accord and slice the vegetables on my cutting board, rather than my fingers. A few more minutes of conversation ended with Trey coming into the kitchen under the pretense of getting a drink. Walking into the room, he took one look at my flushed face and trembling hands, and shot me another cocky grin. Rather than walk around the table where I stood, he made sure to walk past me, sliding his hand along my hip and butt as he did. Unable to bite it back, I moaned, praying the tv was too loud for my husband to hear me. On shaky legs, I turned to the sink to wash the vegetables off—and Trey stepped right up behind me, pressing me between the counter and his hips.

My hands stilled in the running water as Trey's body pressed against mine, gently grinding into me, pushing my aroused pussy against the edge of the counter while his hardening cock pressed into my butt. My breathing stuttered to a stop as fireworks of desire blasted through me. Leaning forward, he whispered in a wickedly sexy undertone that I better keep washing those veggies, or my husband would come out to see what was wrong, and he, Trey, would have to stop touching me. Now, I didn't want that, did I?

Oh, most definitely not! Forbidden, dangerous, but oh so good, his touch, his whispers, his very thoughts controlled me. Slowly, sweetly, tormentingly he ground against me, letting me feel him get harder and harder, knowing that my pussy was getting wetter and wetter in response. His arms slid around me, his hands rubbing my wrists, my forearms, slipping under my sleeves to rub over my shoulders. My nipples, aching for his touch, were obviously distended beneath my shirt, drawing his touch there like a moth to flame. Over the shirt he brushed them, eliciting a gasp of pleasure. Then, ever so slowly, he slid his hand under my shirt. I prayed with all my heart, as his fingers slipped closer and closer to my aching breasts, that he, at least, was keeping half an ear open for my husband—I was unable to hear anything over the pounding of my own pulse!

When his long, dark fingers massaged my breasts, both at once, I exploded. Head thrown back, back arched as much as possible, I felt the creaminess of my cum slide down my thighs, drenching the seam of my sweats. His lips against my ear, he growled that I better be quiet, that I better hold back that scream, that his pussy better hush, so that he could keep touching it, stroking it, loving it.

As my breath hitched and the moan built to a scream, he turned my head and kissed me, swallowing the sound of his name as it burst from my lips, moaning deep into my mouth in return, knowing that he had done this to me, that his touch had made me lose control, made me scream his name with my husband in the next room. With a groan of desire, he spun me around in his arms, lifting my knee with his hand and pressing his length intimately against me, rubbing and pushing, dry-fucking me right there against my kitchen sink. My arms wrapped around his neck and my mouth ravaged his, our intermingled moans the only sound in the room.

It was with a start that we heard my husband yell for Trey to come watch a replay kick on the game. Like a splash of cold water, reality intruded on our moment. Dropping his head to mine even as he released my leg and let me slide down against him, he kissed the tip of my nose and whispered that this was far from over. Grabbing the beers that he had set on the counter what seemed like ages ago, he headed back to the living room, dropping back into the easy chair as though nothing was wrong—but when I snuck my head around the corner a few minutes later, he caught my eye and gave his still-hard dick a quick rub for me, eyes lighting up as he watched me melt.

Somehow I managed to put together our dinner, although I have absolutely no recollection of what we ate or whether it was even edible. I leaned across the table to serve everyone as was my custom, and had to bite back another moan as Trey's palm surreptitiously slid around my knee, caressing me under the cover of the table. I sat at one end, my husband at the other, while Trey sat between us. My husband was oblivious to the fact that my legs were entwined with Trey's under that table, that I was rubbing and caressing him with my sock-clad feet, even as my naïve husband sat a few feet away. When the meal was finished, Trey helped me clear the table, while my husband went back to the living room to watch the game. Oh, how sweet those "accidental" touches were as we slid dishes into the washer and put food away. At one point, unable to resist any more, I reached up and kissed him as I walked past, memorizing the feel of his lips against mine in that split-second of contact.

Finally we could delay no longer, and headed to the living room. I sat on the couch with my husband, angling myself to where I had an unhindered view of my sexy black lover as he sprawled in the recliner. My husband was soon snoring, affording me the chance to openly stare at Trey. Ever one to tease me, Trey slid up the leg of his shorts, exposing himself to my avid gaze, lightly stroking himself and grinning at me. He liked watching me tremble and shiver, knowing that I had to keep quiet if we were to continue this dangerous torment.

Eyes locked on mine, Trey slowly stoked up and down his deliciously dark cock, hips rocking as he mimicked our actions of earlier. I was flushed, panting, aching with wanting him in me, about going out of my mind with lust, my own hips starting to rock back and forth in time with his. A snorting, snoring noise from my husband brought me back from the edge of a visual orgasm, and I quickly pulled a pillow over my lap, gasping a laugh as Trey quickly slipped his laptop onto his lap, covering up the evidence of his part in my breathlessness.

With a bit of determination, I awoke my husband and convinced him to head off to bed, saying I'd be there soon—but hoping I wouldn't. After he staggered down the hall, I drew my first deep breath—and expelled it with force when Trey flipped his laptop around to show me what he'd been watching the whole time—pictures of me that we had exchanged over the duration of our affair, both studio shots, and webcam frames, showing everything from me dressed to the nines, to me dripping my cum off my fingers so he could see his affect on me. There were shots of me at my computer, and me on my bed, me using my big black dildo and imagining it was his cock reshaping my pussy. There were images of me in the shower, me on our deck, me cumming and squirting and even sucking on my toy. I was entranced, watching these images play, one after another, a physical album of our lengthy affair.

Mesmerized both by the sheer number of images, as well as the idea that he kept them on the laptop that he took everywhere with him, I sat there stunned as he set the machine aside and walked over to me. Taking my hand, he raised me to my feet, pulled me into his strong, sexy arms, and kissed me. His hand slid easily down into my sweatpants, and he moaned at the amount of juice he felt there. Pushing my legs apart, he slid one, two, then three fingers into me, those long dark fingers probing deep, feeling the residue of his earlier deposits mixing with my fresh juices. Once again I found my face buried in his shoulder while his fingers brought me to another orgasm right there in my own living room!

Gasping, shaking, a virtual starfield of lights exploding behind my tightly closed eyes, I shuddered to a stop, mewling into his neck. Whispering soothing words, he slid his slippery fingers along the curve of my hip and across my back, caressing me, easing me back into consciousness. Taking my hand, he pressed it against his hard length, making my breath stutter and my knees buckle. Pressing his lips against my ear, he asked if we could take this outside, where he could find someplace to have me, to sink his big, black dick deep into my steaming pussy, fill me with his cream, make me his yet again.

At his sexy words, I forgot to breathe. Only the swirl of lights and faint-headed feeling brought it back again, and I started panting like an out-of-shape runner scaling a mountain. Grabbing his hand, I blindly led him out of my house and onto the balcony. We have a canopied swing there, and it is on this that I lay down, pulling him on top of me and cradling him between my legs. The swing rocks gently back and forth, back and forth, under our combined weight as we kiss and touch, our bodies thrilling at this renewed contact. My fingers swept over his skin, delighting in every ridge and valley. I couldn't get enough of him, and even though we'd been making love all day and teasing all night, my hunger for him was insatiable. Scooting up to rest his elbows by my head, he ground against me, feeling how wet I was through both sets of clothing. Cradling my head in his hands, he kept kissing me, caressing my face, nuzzling against me, whispering such sweet, sexy things in my ear that my heart melted and my stomach flipped.

I wrapped my arms around his waist, hands on his back, holding him tightly to me. Out here in the dry, west coast heat, I could hear the night sounds around us, and his breath in my ear. I felt his body on mine, pressing into me, fitting perfectly in all the ways and places that two bodies could fit together, and never wanted this feeling to end. I briefly considered the fact that, considering the events of this afternoon, I may well be pregnant – but the thought, far from scaring me, thrilled me. I wanted this man's baby. I wanted to look down and watch our son nurse at my breast. I wanted to watch our daughter toddle her first steps from his arms to mine.

Holding him even closer, I turned my head to his, and drank deeply from his warm mouth, whispering my dark desire against his lips. I felt his breath catch and heard the softest of moans before he gathered me close, just holding me tight. His arm under my back, he flipped us until we were sitting in the swing, him leaning back, and me straddling his lap. With his hands now gentle on my head, he pulled me down to him, kissing me deeply, letting me feel him tremble, as he pushed his hips up into the apex of my thighs. We hovered like that, entwined, for countless eons, unable to let each other go.

Finally, whispering that I couldn't have his baby if I didn't have his cream, he slid his hands across my shoulders and down the length of my arms, twining our fingers. Lifting our joined hands, he kissed each of my fingers, before placing each of my hands on the swing's top rail. When I started to move my hands, he cautioned me that I must stay like this, that the air, the darkness and the heat of our passionate day decreed a long, sexy, smooth lovemaking session to wrap it all up. But I mustn't touch him, or he'd lose control and just ravage me.

I could see his grin as he heard my indrawn hiss of breath at his words. Involuntarily my back arched and my hair cascaded down my back, over his hands. Sliding his hands around my ribs, he grasped the neck of my shirt and ripped it completely off of me. I thrilled at this blatant display of power and lust, mewling my pleasure as he drove his face into my chest, nipping, licking, sucking at me, not caring that he was leaving his mark all over my pale skin. When I finally was able to gasp out a question about this being a long, slow lovemaking session, he grinned again, and ground out that he had changed his mind, that he wanted to shove his cream so deep into my pussy that there would be no question as to whether or not I would get pregnant.

Sliding his hands over my hips, he tugged my roomy sweats down over me, lifting my knees to get them off of one leg. The naughty feel of them dangling off my ankle was unbelievably erotic. Lifting me up onto my knees, still not letting me let go of that top rail, he slid his silky blue shorts down, and in one smooth motion, pulled me back down onto his cock, his hands on my hips controlling my every motion. The cool breeze generated by the motion of the swing, his fingers digging into my hips, the feel of his mouth on my skin, his whimpered pleas to let him fill me with his baby-making cream, all drove me over the edge and on the third thrust of his hard dick into my soaking wet pussy I gushed, squirting my cum all over him, soaking us both. The feel of me clenching around him made him cum as well, and pulling me down tightly, he bucked his hips, ramming all the way up inside of me, stretching me even deeper than he had before, each jet of his cream in me feeling like the burst of a hose as he coated me. Unable to hold back, I screamed my passion into the night, Trey's name echoing off the canyon walls, without even a though to my sleeping husband just a few yards away...