Luke exited his car and grabbed his black and red lunch bag from the passenger seat, sliding out and shutting the door with a swing of his hips. He looked out onto the home he'd built with his wife, admiring the blooming flowers in the front garden that'd taken a little too long to finally bloom, but they were looking beautiful now that they'd come along. He made a mental note to mow the lawn at the weekend as he pushed the lock button on his keys and strode along to the front door.
Inside, he kicked off his shoes and strolled through to the kitchen to put down his bag. Directly above him he made out a muffled thudding coming through the ceiling and looked up, wondering what it was. With nobody there to greet him, he was a little confused. He remembered that his daughter was out at her friend's house until the late evening and hoped that there wouldn't be any boys hanging around as he made his way back around to the stairs.
Gripping the banister he made his way up two steps at a time, staring inexorably towards that hypnotically rhythmic sound. As he grew closer it became clearer and he could make out slapping and groaning intermingled with it until he reached the top of the stairs and he could make out unmistakable huffing and panting. His daughter's room was open and empty, but the door to his own room was shut tight. He stared at it and grabbed the handle, fearful of what was occurring inside.
With one big, smooth swing, he forced it open and took a confident stride inside, greeted by the sight of muscular black cheeks gyrating in the air, surrounded on either side by much more slender white legs, shaved, with petite feet dangling in the air. It was Jamal, his friend from school, his roommate, blasting his wife's pussy.
His heart skipped and his lungs took a deep, unconscious gasp at the sight before him. His other senses soon caught up, and he could smell the potent heady scent of pheromone-laced musk. Sweet, almost floral tones danced and tangled with a bitter earthy aroma with a hint of spice, he could hear his wife's moans, but they were greater than anything he'd ever been able to elicit from her.
Jamal turned his shiny bald head, still pounding his hips into Luke's wife. His plump, dark lips curled into a snarling smile laced with satisfaction. Beneath him was Claire, Luke's beloved wife. They'd met in university and had a wonderful relationship together. Of course, it wasn't without its problems, but nothing ever was. She was a short red-head, a sweet and shy girl with a generous rack and killer hips. She'd managed to get plenty of attention from the guys throughout her life, but she was either too oblivious or shy to really do anything about it. She valued respect and loyalty over the type of things usually on offer by the guys showing her interest; fleeting flings weren't her style.
Yet, here she was getting dicked down by Luke's childhood friend. He was a good looking guy, sure, he could understand that, muscular, tall, with a killer smile that made the ladies weak in the knees. His history as a star athlete back in his day helped too -- he had a reputation for getting any girl he wanted, and even ones he didn't.
With the speed and ferocity of his movements Luke was sure they were going to break the bed. He should have been feeling betrayed twice over, dumbfounded, completely lost and broken, but instead a huge smile broke out across his face.
"It's about time!" He laughed. He was completely into the idea, more so than his wife even was. He'd even taken the time to get her to come around to the idea, though that had taken a while. It all started a little over a month ago when Luke had received a phone call from Jamal, stating that he was moving back into the area after a long time away. He'd been employed on team after team, and now that his sports career was over he needed a place to stay until he'd gotten himself set up back in his hometown.
Naturally, being the nice guy that he was, he agreed to host him for the foreseeable future. He was honestly quite excited to have his friend back and catch up on all the things that they'd missed. He wondered how much he might have changed in the years since they'd seen each other and hang out watching the game, drinking beers, and having a good time.
He arrived on a weekend in the late evening. Luke and Claire had already sat down and eaten dinner with their daughter, Hayley, a young girl with straight black hair (that was obviously died from being ginger) that didn't quite suit her freckled complexion. She had been experimenting with her style of late, settling for the time being on a goth look. Before, she'd been a girly girl, with pinks and yellows everywhere, but done away with it all in favour of skulls and witchcraft. She'd inherited a lot from her mother -- the big breasts and short stature, not to mention the hips. She was like a more edgy, younger version of her mother, but had more of a spark to her in contrast to Claire's naturally shy, timid nature. She always held an aloof, indifferent look about her face when it came to her parents, but they knew she was still their special little girl.
The taxi came from the airport and arrived at sundown. The towering black man squeezed his way out of the back seat after a moment to pay the driver. The trunk popped open and he lugged out two large suitcases filled with clothes and his necessary possessions. Luke immediately went out and greeted him with a warm, bromantic embrace. Luke wasn't short by any means, but Jamal still towered over him. He was wider too, with thick trunk-like muscles that rippled and twitched beneath his t-shirt like splashing water. It wasn't a small t-shirt either, it would have swamped Luke, but with how ripped and jacked he was he could easily fill anything.
He'd gotten a few tattoos done since Luke had last seen him. Luke didn't have any himself, unable to commit to something that long term on his body. Luke admired them, asking him about them all as he led Jamal inside to meet his family.
It was the first time Claire had seen him. She'd been told stories in passing about the famous football player that Luke had been friends with back in school, even seen a few games where he was a speck on the screen amongst a field full of other guys in similar outfits -- but there he stood, crouching into the doorway, this huge stallion of a man. She walked through from the kitchen into the hallway as he was dropping his suitcases down and stopped in her tracks.
Her jaw slowly slid open as her eyes took in his majesty. Her eyes bulged as they traced the lines of the cords of muscle beneath his shirt, and her heart started beating out of control as she saw that flaccid bulge in his tight sweatpants. He had a particular smell on him that pierced her nose and ignited her senses despite not even being sweaty, just his natural musk that screamed 'breeding'.
Luke hadn't even thought of the effect that he might have on the women of the house, but there he stood, this tall, muscled fucking machine. He stared her up and down in reply, his eyes drinking in every part of her form from the cinnamon-red hair atop her head in a loose bun to the casual t-shirt that subtly clung to her curves.
"Jamal -- this is Claire, the wife. The wife, this is Jamal." Luke joked. It seemed that without words, they were already getting themselves acquainted. He held out a huge dark hand, his palm a lighter shade, and took hers in it. She couldn't help but notice how her entire hand fit into his palm, encapsulating it right down to the wrist. She felt weak at the disparity between their sizes.
"Damn, Luke. You did alright for yourself." Jamal spoke in a gravelly, low baritone. It didn't even seem like a human voice, it was like he was a bear with a voice box. "She's a fine lookin' lady." He said with a toothy grin as he stared into her eyes.
"Hell yeah, I did. Met her in the first year of university." Luke replied. "We had a happy little accident shortly after, and here we are now."
Jamal turned to face Luke with a questioning eyebrow. "You're makin' Bob Ross references now? Shit man you got old."
"You and me both. Look at that bald spot." Luke answered in reference to his whole head. "You've got what, four hairs left there?"
"More touchdowns than hairs, you know it." He turned back to face Claire again. "I hope he's been treating you well -- beautiful girl like you needs a man with a beautiful heart."
Claire could barely find the words to speak. It took all of her concentration to pull her eyes away from the muscles on his chest and the way his fat cock swung lazily in those sweatpants. When she wrested control of her autonomy once more, she finally stuttered a reply in a hushed tone, breaking eye contact and looking down out of the corner of her eye. "Yes, he's been good to me."
"Oh, you're the shy type, huh?" Jamal continued. He nudged his huge elbow into Luke, almost knocking him over. "They're always the freakiest, huh?"
Luke didn't want to say anything, but he'd always had a few fantasies that he never got the courage to push her into. She was too pure and innocent and he didn't want to hurt her by pushing her into things that she'd find uncomfortable or demand too much from her, outside of her comfort zone.
Jamal noticed Claire turning a bright shade of red. Luke noticed it too. He felt the slightest twinge of jealousy emerge in the back of his mind, but he ignored it. He was happy to see his friend, and he knew all too well what kind of guy he was.
Luke led him upstairs and Claire made a bowl of pasta while they unpacked his belongings and Luke gave him the tour of the house. They ate and spent some time catching up in front of the TV, Claire every so often exchanging secretive glances with Jamal across her husband. She was intimidated by his massive presence, but she couldn't take her eyes off him -- at least until he looked back. She couldn't hold contact with his piercing brown eyes -- they had flecks of amber to them, and deep, pitch-black pupils that were like looking into the night's sky.
Luke didn't seem to pay any attention to their gazes meeting. She'd wait until he was looking at Jamal with his head faced away from her to look over at him from just behind her husband's head. She was curious about the muscled man, but too shy to do anything about it. After they went to bed that night, Luke sank into a rested sleep but Claire couldn't -- Jamal was stuck in her mind, laying next to her and enclosing her in his thick arms, holding her into his chest so she could catch a whiff of that delicious musk, and making completely inappropriate advances towards a married woman. Before she knew it, the morning alarm was blaring and it was Luke rolling over and groaning next to her once again.
Reluctantly, she rolled her way out of bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. She then grabbed a fluffy white gown from the back of their bedroom door and slipped out, closing it silently behind her. She made her way downstairs to find Jamal already making coffee -- she could have stayed in bed a little longer.
