Trey

Things were tense the next morning as I waited to see whether my screaming Trey's name as he fucked me senseless on our balcony swing had woken my husband as he slept in our bed, just a few feet away. When nothing was said and I didn't find myself on the receiving end of any nasty accusations, I breathed a sigh of relief and set about making breakfast for everyone.

My husband came out, grabbed a muffin, kissed my cheek, and headed out the door, as usual. For once I wasn't unhappy to see him leave, and as his car pulled out of the garage and drove away, I actually felt the tension drain out of my shoulders. Closing my eyes and tipping my head back, I took a deep breath—and jumped when I felt Trey's fingers on my neck, rubbing and kneading until I felt loose and relaxed again. Smelling the combination of fresh shower and sexy cologne on him, I couldn't bite back my moan of appreciation as his fingers worked their magic on my skin.

Pulling me back against him, he rested my head on his shoulder, reached around me and picked up a piece of the fruit I had been cutting up to nibble on. His arm around my waist, he offered me a bite of melon, taking the rest for himself, before leaning down to lick the juices off my lips. Oh, this is how every morning should start.

Licking and nibbling on me, he slid his hand under my loosely fastened robe, enjoying my warm, just-out-of-bed feel. At the sensation of his skin on mine, my body responded as it was being taught to do—by coating my thighs with pussy juice in anticipation of his big, black dick. Moaning, I flicked my tongue out to meet his, before tasting my way along the sweet, sexy planes of his face and down to his neck, where I nibbled and nipped until I heard his answering groan.

- Good morning sugar, I whispered against his smooth, dark skin. Twisting slightly, I pulled his face down to mine for a long, deep kiss, the melon flavoring both our tongues. Deeply we caressed, stroked, licked each other, moans intermingling in our mouths, breath catching, holding, releasing, telling of our pleasure in this intimate embrace.

- Good morning, he grinned, pulling back, brushing my tousled hair from my face.

He pulled me close, wrapping me tightly from behind, his head on my shoulder, slightly rocking side to side. Oh, how perfect this felt. I enfolded his arms in mine, nails lightly scoring his skin as I traced my fingers over his hands and forearms, unable to stop touching and caressing this wildly sexy man.

- Mind if I have some more fruit? Just listening to his rough, sexy voice made me quiver in his arms, and I probably should have suspected something from the devilish gleam in his eye but I was to enthralled with this loving interaction to do anything but revel in it.

Reaching down, I chose a ripe, red berry, and watched in lusty appreciation as his teeth gently nipped it from between my fingers before his tongue licked up the juicy residue as it dripped down my hand. Spellbound, I watched his tongue slide over, around, between my fingers, stroking and teasing. When his hot, wet mouth engulfed my forefinger and gently suckled it, I gasped, closed my eyes, and trembled my way through a quick, hard orgasm. When I finally opened my eyes again, it was to see his deep brown ones watching me, smiling in pleasure at the obvious effect of his touch. His arms tightened around my waist, hugging me, murmuring his enjoyment in my reactions.

- I want more, he said, grinning at my weak-kneed reaction to his demand. Slipping one hand off my waist, he picked up another piece of fruit, pineapple this time. Lifting it to his mouth, he slowly, teasingly ran his tongue over it, tasting the juices, closing his eyes and savoring the flavor, a small smile tilting the corners of his mouth. He could feel me shaking in reaction, knowing how much I envied that piece of fruit, wishing his tongue were all over me—but so enjoying this sexy food play.

Glancing at me from the corner of his eyes, he bit back a grin, and proceeded to glide that wet chunk of fruit down my neck, along the curve of my collarbone, and into the valley between my breasts. Nudging my robe out of his way, he drew bigger and bigger circles on my sensitized skin, his touch so warm while the fruit was wet and sticky. Lifting the pineapple chunk to his lips, he slowly licked it again, before sliding it into his mouth and slowly chewing it, watching the flush of desire as it crawled over my skin.

- Mmmm... perfect. Just what it needed –you.

I whimpered, quivered and drenched my thighs yet again.

Oh, how he enjoyed his effect on me. With every word, every movement, he owned more and more of me. When he held his fingers to my lips, I immediately suckled them into my mouth, tasting the pineapple juice, with his scent and flavor underlying it. Determined to arouse him as he had me, I mimicked the motions of a blowjob, his long dark finger trapped in the heated wetness of my mouth. I wanted him to remember how I had pleasured him in the shower, how willingly I had swallowed all of his sweet cream. I wanted him to feel the heat of my mouth and compare it to that of my hungry pussy, where he had spent so many hours, stretching me to fit him and only him. I wanted him to drag me back to my bedroom, throw me down on my bed and ravage me, finally losing a little of that control that he held so tightly. Yes, he obviously enjoyed our couplings, but I wanted him to ache for me, as I did for him. With that thought in mind, I used every trick I had ever learned, striving to relay all I felt and all I wanted him to feel, with the simple touch of my mouth on his fingers.

I watched the warm, deep brown of his eyes catch on fire, locking with mine, his breath hissing from between clenched lips. Teeth gleaming, I smiled at him—and scraped the edge of my teeth along the length of his finger, my own eyes glowing at his indrawn gasp of approval. Before I could draw my next breath, he had flipped me over onto the kitchen table, sending the few accoutrements on it crashing to the floor, unheeded. His mouth feasted on mine, devouring me, ravaging me, as he roughly unbelted my robe and stripped it off me. Grasping my hips, he slid me down the length of the table until my hips were right at its edge, my pussy pressed hard against the bulge in his pants as still he raped my mouth with his tongue, swallowing my cries of shock and pleasure.

I couldn't stop my hips from rolling, rocking against him, pleading for him to use me. My juices, already coating my thighs from his earlier attentions, now flooded everything—his pants, my ass and the table beneath me, causing me to slip and slide all over that blonde oak wood. I struggled to pull his shirt out of his khakis, desperate to touch his skin. When my hand finally connected with the warm, smooth expanse of his back, I moaned deep into his mouth, my head spinning in pleasure.

Harder he pressed into me, grinding me into the table edge, teasing me with what I so desperately wanted. When my nails sank into his back, he hissed and jerked against me, making me squirm even more, and dig in even harder. Panting, he grabbed my arms, forcing them over my head, breath whistling through his teeth at the feel of my nails scraping across his skin.

-You'll pay for that one, he threatened, moaning, wickedly aroused by my loss of control and obvious heat.

Flipping me over, he crushed my breasts against the table, still holding both my wrists in one hand as I now lay bent over the table, back arched, body quivering, my stomach now coated with my pussy juice from the puddle on the table.

-Let's see if you like this as much as you thought you would, he ground out, seconds before the first, stinging slap of his hand smacked against my soft white ass. Smack! Smack! By the third slap of his big, dark hand against my vulnerable ass, I was gushing cum, splattering it all over the floor, my shrieks and howls ringing through the house. Still he kept on, now spreading my legs apart, taking care to aim a few (slightly) gentler strokes at my slippery wet pussy, the squishy sound of his hand spanking my lips an enticement to us both. Soon my ass was hot pink, striped with his finger imprints, hot to the touch. Oh, it felt divine. I couldn't stop cumming, my strangled sobs a sound of both pleasure and pain as my lover took me to yet another level of passion I had never been to before.

Finally he twisted me back over, taking care to not let the table connect with my sore, flaming hot ass. Leaning over me, he pressed his throbbing cock against me, showing me how our little impromptu adventure had affected him, as well. Moaning, I rocked against him, silently begging him to take me, devouring his mouth as he brought his lips back down to mine, soothing and caressing me.

Reaching over to the bowl of fruit he'd grabbed from the counter at some point, he sat in my husband's chair, between my splayed thighs, and placed that cool, cut glass bowl against me, its chill temporarily soothing my aching pussy. Telling me to incline on my elbows, he randomly chose a chunk of fruit from the bowl and with a wicked gleam in his eye, swiped it across my creamy cuntlips, before offering it for me to eat. Shocked at the chill, aroused at the sensuality, completely offering myself up to his pleasure, I licked my lips, nipped the berry from his fingers, and slid it over my tongue, tasting me on the fruit.

The tang of my arousal, combined with the natural sugars of the fruit, combined into a heady combination. My eyes widened, and I looked at Trey, who just smiled back knowingly, before repeating the action with another piece of fruit for himself. As he cleaned me up with the fruit, he kept spreading my legs wider, reaching deeper inside to get more of my cream. At one point he held a strawberry at the opening to my pussy, held my lips wide with his fingers, and flicked my clit with his tongue, watching as my cream gushed down over his berry. Smiling, he slid the berry up that slick passage and rubbed its slight roughness over my clit, making me cum yet again, head thrown back and body arching to my lover's touch.

When I thought I could handle no more, he picked up part of an orange and holding it at my eye level, slowly squeezed it 'til the juices flowed over me, chilled, wet and sticky. With slight movements of his hand, he coated both my breasts in the sticky juice, watching as the orange bits flowed down over the soft white curve of my breast, across my stomach, and over my soft, swollen pussy. Urging me to lean back, then he picked up another segment, squeezing it directly over my swollen, hungry pussy, the trickling juice falling onto my engorged clit making me writhe in torment even as my pussy gushed again.

My eyes were closed in tormented pleasure, my back arched, hands reaching for my lover, silently demanding that he take me, my body coated in juices. With a shock of pure pleasure, I felt the warmth of his skin as he pressed against me and realized that he somehow had quickly undressed. Leaning over me, he kissed me hard, pressing himself against me but not pushing into me like I so desperately needed. Moaning, whimpering, I begged for him to take me, but he kept caressing me with is tongue instead, now my neck, now my chest, whispering that this was the best kind of breakfast—sticky juice on a hot, wet woman.

With a feral cry I surged up from the table, rubbing against him, my mouth madly searching out every inch of his skin, tasting the juices on him, both from the fruit and my pussy. My hands quested everywhere, nails scraping, fingers clenching. My moans and cries filled the quiet of the house as I implored him to take me, use me, make me his. When my hands locked on his asscheeks and pulled him to me as my tongue flicked back and forth over his nipple, I heard his gasp of pleasure and growled in delight. Sliding back onto the table, uncaring about the sting of orange juice on my well-spanked ass, I begged, pleaded, demanded that he take me, love me, fuck me, right there on my kitchen table.

-Yes, he gritted out, sinking into me. Yes, right there on that table where my husband sat to eat his meals, right there, that's where he was going to fuck me, slam his big black dick into me, make me scream his name over and over while he spurted hot, baby-making cream into my wet, willing pussy, hopefully making me pregnant at the very spot where my husband sat every night. Yes, he wanted to sit there that night across from my husband, knowing that my cream had drenched the table, that his cream had drenched me, that I had screamed my lover's name over and over on that very spot, cumming uncontrollably, writhing and thrashing on Trey's big black dick.

And cum I did. Despite all the creamy gushes of cum my body had already made, I exploded at his words and deep thrusting motions. The force of my orgasm lifted us both off that table top, and still he fucked me. Hard, fast, pounding, hungry. Stroke after stroke, deep inside me, claiming territory that had never before been touched. The force of our fucking rocked the table across the floor, but we didn't notice, too wrapped up in the hungry, almost animalistic fucking that we were demanding from each other.

Every thrust caused another great rush of my cream to explode from me, each pounding slam of his cock spraying us both with that juice, 'til we were both coated in sweat and cum. He later told me how awesome it had felt, that spraying rush of hot liquid drenching him, splattering everywhere, so warm and wet and slick. He said he liked how uncontrolled I had to have been, in order to cum like that—which made him pump me harder, drill me deeper, gasp my name and explode, deep inside of me, face buried in my neck, fingers tightly entwined with mine as he held my hands over my head yet again.

Slowly, so slowly we stopped rocking, slowed our pace, until we were barely moving, just gently loving, such a contrast to our hard, intense fuck session that had undoubtedly left us both bruised and sore. I could feel his heart pounding against mine, where he lay against me, and heard his choppy breath in my ear, where he had snuggled up to me, both of us too exhausted to move.

I stroked my hands down his back, caressing him gently, knowing that I was in trouble. I had given myself completely over to my black Adonis, but had not been free to do so. I was married, and to my lover's best friend. My lover, who had just staked his claim on me yet again, right here at my husband's seat at our table. My lover, who I was realizing I didn't want to give up, who I was becoming more and more attached to.

Sensing some of what I was feeling, Trey tipped my face up to his, and placed the softest, sweetest kiss on my lips. He searched my tear-filled eyes, but found few answers there, just so many questions. Softly he kissed each eyelid closed, then with his lips against my forehead, murmured that we would figure it out, somehow. And there my lover held me, on the cool wood of my kitchen table, and I heard my heart taking a long, slow dive into uncharted waters, hoping against hope that I could tread water long enough to figure out what to do.