OK, here's another one for you LW fans out there.
A cheating slut-wife, a black man with an enormous cock, and a twist ... *wink*
After A Dish Best Served Cold
went up on Lit, I got a lot of feedback. Thanks, I enjoyed reading it.
As usual, send feedback – I look forward to the PCs.
GA – Langkawi, Malaysia – 31st of January 21013.
One.
Heather Parker regarded her reflection in the big mirror fixed to the wall of her hotel room.
"Oh God, Heather," she murmured to the platinum blonde who smirked back at her. "Who are you going to fuck tonight?" She cupped her breasts in her palms, examining the cosmetic surgeon's work with a critical eye. "Perfect she purred, satisfied that her tits were the best her husband's money could buy.
Jubilation surged through her and overwhelmed Heather's senses, her tummy fluttering with anticipation at the first night of her two-week holiday in Nice.
Alone.
Without
him
for two weeks! Free to indulge her dirty kitty's desires.
It had cost her husband a small fortune in pampering, with a whole day in the spa having her hair dyed and styled, her arms and pussy waxed, her eyebrows threaded to almost invisible arches. Heather had endured hours in the home gym at the mercy of her personal trainer, Michael, a hard-bodied Swede with an impressive cock and endless stamina. On the very first session, without even working out, Heather had dragged the beautiful Adonis to the bed she shared with her husband, kneeling and offering her cunt to him before he filled her with dick and then his semen.
Looking at herself in the mirror, Heather decided she looked fucking gorgeous, even at forty-four she knew she'd turn heads when she sauntered into the bar downstairs. The sun-bed had done the trick, ten sessions and she was ready to lounge by the pool the following day in the briefest bikini that modesty and public decency allowed. She couldn't wait to get mildly fizzy on rum and coke before she picked up some hard dick for some afternoon delight.
As she dressed Heather couldn't decide who to go for on her first night – a handsome rich man, a fellow guest at the hotel, or whether to go slumming it and just fuck one of the waiters or barmen? Maybe she could latch onto a nice young couple to corrupt, perhaps seducing the female partner while not allowing the male to fuck her? It had been a few months, before the boob-job in fact, since she'd been licked to orgasm by another woman.
The choices were endless, and even as she selected a scrap of soft cotton that posed as a thong from a drawer, a dribble of arousal slid from Heather's opening.
"We'll wait and see," she muttered after lighting a cigarette and sitting on the bed to phone her husband.
Five minutes later, after a banal conversation about her flight and how much the needle-dicked millionaire missed his wife, Heather slid into the simple but oh-so-expensive little black dress, checked her appearance critically, and walked out of the room towards the lift on her towering heels.
As she sauntered casually into the bar she spotted him immediately.
Expensive clothes, short hair and skin the colour of dark chocolate.
Their eyes met and Heather felt desire burst inside her as her pussy clenched and siped more juice into her underwear. Feigning indifference she let her eyes slip away from his belligerent stare, selected a vacant table, and eased into the soft, low chair.
A waiter immediately approached and Heather ordered a white wine. She took a packet of cigarettes out of the small bag she carried and lit up. Besides cigarettes, the bag also contained a finger-sized vibrator and three condoms – just in case.
He was standing next to her as Heather blew smoke towards the ceiling.
"May I?" the man asked in accented English. He indicated the seat next to Heather with a tilt of his head.
"Help yourself," Heather replied in an off-hand manner that belied the churning in the pit of her stomach. The man was absolutely fucking gorgeous: liquid brown eyes and a voice so deep it made Heather's already leaking pussy trickle with yearning. When the man spoke she immediately imagined huge, dangling balls, associating large testicles with the deep, rich timbre of his voice. She glanced at his hands, noticing they were huge – was his cock in proportion? Heather decided she would find out.
"I'm Samson," the man said as the waiter returned with Heather's wine.
"Heather," the woman replied. She thanked the waiter who then left to collect the Jack Daniel's that Samson requested.
"English?" the man asked.
Heather nodded. "Yes, and what about you?"
"I am from Mozambique," Samson replied in very formal English.
"And what brings you to this part of the world?" Heather asked.
The waiter appeared and handed Samson his drink. The black man sipped at the JD, his eyes fixed on the blonde's face. The intensity of the stare unsettled Heather and caused her insides to clench again. She squirmed against the seat and considered a quick trip to the loo so she could run the angry buzz of the finger-vibe over her clit.
Samson shrugged and said, as though it was the most mundane occupation in the world, "I meet ladies and I fuck them."
Heather, despite her vast experience as a cheating spouse, and with hundreds of lovers under the hem of her brief skirts blinked, nonplussed by the unexpectedly forthright reply. If she had a notch on her bedpost for every guy she'd fucked behind her husband's back the bed would be a matchstick, but this man was more direct than anyone she'd ever met before.
Recovering quickly, and after a healthy swig of wine, Heather pouted and said, "That's a very to-the-point way of putting it, Samson."
The man shrugged. "It is what I do," he said. "You ask, I tell you."
"And I assume you get paid for this ... service?"
