just a shorty 'cos i was in the mood. hope you enjoy it. GA.
July.
A GOOD DAY ended badly. Julie, her final lesson of the day done, left the school earlier than usual. Planning to spend an hour in the sun with a book she arrived home and let herself in. She climbed the stairs intending to change out of her sober work clothes and into her bikini. What she saw next turned her world upside down.
Samuel didn't hear his wife's tread on the stairs; he only turned from the window when he heard her voice.
"Julie! I—" he began as his face distorted with shock.
"What are you doing?" Julie asked aghast, but the sight of Samuel's erection in his fist told its own story. Pushing past her husband she looked out of the second storey window and saw the object of Samuel's desire - their divorced and undeniably gorgeous neighbour sunbathing nude in her garden.
The betrayal stung like a slap in the face.
Hours later, alone in bed, the same questions turned relentlessly in Julie's head.
What have
I
done wrong? Why would he do it? She's thirty-eight ... Twelve years older than me. Twelve years! Why would he want
her?
With the questions chattering in her head like spiteful demons, Julie eventually abandoned any hope of sleep and, true to her flame-haired temperament, decided to confront her husband.
As much as she feared what rot in their marriage talking to Samuel might reveal, with leaden dread heavy in her stomach Julie pulled on her dressing gown and walked from the marital bedroom. She moved across the silent landing and glanced at the door to her daughter's room. The knot of apprehension tightened in her guts - What if things were so bad that she and Sammy parted? What would she and Alethia do then? Julie thought of her mother too.
Oh, God; she'll be full of 'I-told-you-so's,' and 'I-warned-you-about-"his-sort".
Julie's mother had never reconciled her daughter marrying a black man. "All very fashionable, darling," Margaret Manning had pouted. "But, I mean ... Really?" Samuel's law degree and blossoming reputation as a barrister did nothing to sway her 1950's, aspiring to middle-class prejudices -- "It simply wouldn't do."
But Julie had married Samuel and been happy.
Until ...
Without knocking Julie entered the guest room to which Samuel had been banished.
"Don't you love me any more?" she said abruptly into the darkness.
Despite the time being close to three in the morning Samuel was awake; his reply immediate.
"I'm sorry, Julie. I ..." He sighed, he had no answers, only excuses. "I got home early ... I was feeling ... well ... y'know ... in the mood. When I got upstairs I saw her out of the window ..."
Julie heard her husband sigh a second time.
His voice,
she thought, momentarily distracted from her quest. Samuel's voice had been the first thing that attracted her. She'd first heard him speak at a wedding; Samuel being best man, Julie a friend of the bride -- not close enough to be a bridesmaid though -- and she'd fallen in love with Samuel's rich baritone when he'd stood self-consciously and delivered an embarrassed yet hilarious speech. For Julie, her husband's voice reminded her of Turkish Delight wrapped in dark chocolate.
Despite her anguish, she felt a quickening of desire between her legs.
"You fancy her, don't you?" she asked, ignoring her mewling sex. "I can get my head around you fancying her, she's glamorous ... and she's got a great figure; she's got the look; blonde; pretty ... She's intelligent ... Yeah, I can understand all that, Sammy, but ... Do you still love me?"
"Absolutely," Samuel replied. "I just got a bit stupid today. I didn't think I was doing any harm. There she was ... I was in that mood ... Shit, I'm not saying I don't feel embarrassed, ashamed even, but it has nothing to do with me not loving you any more, babe. I promise you that. You and Alethia ..."
Julie took a pace towards her husband's voice. He sounded so sincere.
He says he loves me,
she thought.
Four years of marriage and I love him as much now as ever ... I love my little family.
Tears stung Julie's eyes when she thought of her daughter -- two-years old, a chatterbox with her father's soft, brown eyes and coffee-coloured skin.
"But you fancy her? ...You love me, but you'd like to ..." Julie sniffed up the tears. "You'd like to do it with her?"
Samuel sat up in bed. Despite the gloom Julie could make out the outline of his body. She recalled the texture of his skin under her fingers when they made love; how tight and springy the bunched muscles felt when her hands slid over his arms and chest ... Then she recalled the thick, black length of him in his fist that afternoon. Julie remembered the first time she'd seen his cock like that; iron hard and so intimidating in girth.
"But I love you, Julie," Samuel insisted. "This afternoon was like ... well, it was like watching porn. You're different. You're real;
we're
real."
The throbbing in her cunt boomed like a bass drum, the fear replaced by liquid desire. Julie wanted her husband to show how much he loved her; she was desperate to believe him but she kept pushing the question; she couldn't help it, it was like probing a newly-filled tooth with her tongue.
"Tell me, Sammy," Julie asked, her voice a croak. "Would you like to fuck her? I mean
really
fuck her.
It was instinct that told Samuel his wife's mind-set had shifted. There was no logic involved, he recognised some quality in the timbre of her voice -- perhaps he could smell her desire in the dark? Without thinking he growled a response.
"I'd fuck her, baby. I'd fuck the white bitch and make her suck my wet cock ... Just like I'm going to do to you now."
Samuel threw the covers off his naked body and moved to his wife.
"Do it to me, Sammy," Julie moaned as her husband's fingers found her slippery labia. She felt his teeth on her neck. "Fuck me like you'd fuck Mandy. Show me how bad you could be."
Samuel turned his wife and eased her onto the bed on all fours. Julie groaned and thrust her buttocks towards her husband's shadowy form. The groan turned to a moan of pleasure when she felt his knob press against her body.
For Samuel the incident was over; but in Julie's mind an idea began to ferment.
October.
THE PLACE WAS A MESS. Empty beer cans, used glasses, and all the other grubby detritus of a room in post-party chaos covered nearly every available surface. Most of the tea-lights had died, but the few still clinging to life flickered warmly and made the room comfortably intimate.
Samuel, in his skeleton costume, face painted white, dropped empty beer cans into a bin bag.
"Here you go, Sammy," Julie said, appearing from the kitchen with a tray laden with steaming coffee cups in her hands. "You'll get that muck on the rim," she warned, pointing at her husband's made-up face. She turned to the scarlet-clad devil sitting on the sofa. "Here you are, Mandy," she added and offered the tray.
"Thanks," the blonde replied as she took her cup.
"Your legs look fantastic in those shorts, Mandy," Julie complimented. "Really smooth ... And the tan; did you top up on a sunbed or ...?"
Given that Amanda's costume consisted of a scrap of a cape, a red t-shirt, and booty shorts there was a considerable length of leg to stretch as the woman eased her limbs out in front of her. From the corner of her eye Julie caught her husband's appreciative expression through his disguise.
"I snuck on the sunbed," Amanda replied. "I didn't want to wear tights with this outfit, so ..."
"It really suits you," Julie said, turning to Samuel. "Don't you think Mandy's got great pins, Sammy?"
Remembering the incident during the summer, Samuel blinked. He looked at his wife and then at his neighbour's legs.
"Uh ..." he muttered, flustered, "I ..."
"Oh come on, Sammy," Julie teased. "You know you like Mandy's legs. There's no shame in admitting it. I don't think she's embarrassed ... Are you Mandy?"
"Oh ... Erm ... No, no I suppose not. I mean ..."
"Anyway, Sammy," Julie continued, it isn't as though—" The red-haired woman stopped mid-sentence and feigned reluctance. "No," she continued. "Sorry, I shouldn't have ... It must be the wine; I'm such a blabbermouth when I drink." She sipped her coffee demurely and avoided Mandy's questioning look.
Ask me,
she thought,
go on Mandy, ask me ...
Samuel shifted in his seat, uncomfortable at being on the precipice of his wife's indiscretion.
No, Julie,
the voice in his head screamed. Wings of apprehension fluttered in his stomach and his balls tightened defensively.
Don't ... Don't say anything ... Don't ....
Amanda, despite the volume of bacardi and coke she'd shifted, sensed she was being manipulated by her younger neighbour. She glanced at Samuel; his expression, even through the face-paint, told her he was aghast at the revelation bubbling on his wife's lips.
She turned her attention to Julie, intrigued as to why the woman had gone suddenly coy and who was now avoiding her eyes.
What are you up to, Julie? Where's this going? OK,
she decided,
I'll play along.