From the files of Cleo: 2014203
It's been some time now since I posted anything about my affair with Paul, my black lover. Okay, she said "black lover," you're probably thinking. "She's just a black cock slut." Not true. Paul could be green and I'd still love him. The color of his cock has nothing to do about the way I desire it.
I hadn't meant to do a follow-up about this, but Cleo said she had a ton of emails from people asking about what has happened in our relationship. I read some of the emails people sent. There were comments about everything one can imagine: speculation that he'd eventually turned me into gangbanging slut; or that Mark had put me out on the street with only the clothing I wore; to, or that I dumped Paul and remain with my husband who wanted me to keep banging Paul just so he could watch.
Some of the emails were pretty sick stuff, but most seemed genuine, though I was surprised that anyone would be interested in the misdeeds of a cheating wife, although some men did say rather brutal things about me - I think I was called every name under the sun. Be that as it may and to pick it up where I left off, here is what happened after Paul left me in bed at my home that night.
The following morning my vagina still felt tender from the battering it'd received from that fencepost Paul fondly calls "Norton." I had to smile. It was so, "little boyish" for an adult male to name a body part that way, but somehow I found it cute. As I washed my face I also found my jaws ached a little as well, remembering how thick he'd been, how it had tasted in my mouth.
I'd even swallowed when he came, something I'd never done until I met Paul. I felt contented, somehow comforted by the thought that I'd been so thoroughly used - and damn, the feeling was so good. As I re-read the paragraph I'd just written, I thought how much I'd changed since meeting Paul. Here I am talking about thick cocks and swallowing cum, something I would never have done before.
I'd just left the shower and started blow-drying my hair he Paul called.
"Hi baby doll. Sleep well?"
In my mind I could see his rice chocolate features, deep-set brown eyes resting above his high cheekbones, and could almost smell his rich breath. Picturing him like that, his voice thrilled me, causing a tingle to start between my legs. Would I never tire from him? He just had that effect on me.
"No. I wanted to wake up and find you beside me. I'd have made your day a little brighter before you left."
His rich baritone laugh thrilled me even more. Then he grew somber, as he said, "I want you, Julie. I can't help myself."
My mind raced, determined to ignore his real intention, pretend it meant something different. "I could meet you someplace for lunch, I guess. We need a few minutes to talk, anyway."
"I don't mean like that. I mean, I want you. I want to keep you. I don't want to be a home wrecker but I can't see myself without you in the future."
"Paul . . . please, don't."
He grew quiet for a moment, and then said, "Okay, just wanted to let you know how I felt. Gotta go, people waiting for me here." The loud click jarred me.
I felt awful after he'd broken our connection. He'd sounded hurt and a little angry. He'd also made me think about how it would be if I could stay with him all the time. I knew he was dominating, that he'd end up controlling me if I did as he wanted. Inexplicably, that thrilled me to my core. But . . . I resolved it wasn't going to happen. This had to stop. Somehow, I had to quit Paul, get my life back together and be faithful to the man I'd married. Mark didn't deserve a cheating wife - no matter how good it felt.
I left a text message for Mark that I would be out shopping for most of the day. Then I sent one to Paul asking him to meet me at a little place on the river about ten miles from the city. Mark's reply just said, "OK . . . really busy . . . gotta go . . . luv ya."
Paul came back as I was reading it. "Wild horses couldn't keep me away, Beautiful," it read. "See you there. You made my day!"
The two texts were entirely different. One rushed, the other caring and complementary. Is that what marriage did to a relationship? Made you take someone for granted after a few years? The romance and love I'd experienced with Paul made me ache to be with him. With Mark it was different. With him, I knew I just had to make it back in time to fix dinner - one which he might not even show up for. Stop thinking like that, I told myself. Today you'll break it off with Paul when you meet for lunch, and that will end it.
He was sitting there when I arrived and had already ordered for both us. He wore a soft gray sport coat over an open-collared dark blue shirt, with no necktie. He looked delicious. Standing as I approached, he took both my hands in his and looked deeply into my eyes. "You look delicious."
I'd dressed simply, a cotton sundress and raised cork slip-on shoes. I felt my face flush with pleasure as I answered. "I was thinking the same thing about you."
We ate without discussing the five-hundred pound elephant sitting at the table with us. The food tasted like wood because all I wanted to do was crawl under the table, take out that fabulous cock and make him happy. Make me happy, too! His brown eyes ate me up all through lunch, and by the time we'd finished I was already damp enough to feel it through my panties. As we walked along the river-walk holding hands afterward, I stopped under a large tree and just stared at him for a minute.
"Paul, we both know this can't go on. I'm married. I know I haven't acted like I am with you, but in my family those are sacred vows. I can't see you anymore. I'm an emotional wreck and Mark has to notice that sooner or later, probably as soon as things settle down at work. He's not stupid."
I tried pulling my hand away, but he held it tight. "Then tell him," Paul urged. "Sometimes a sharp pain is better than a lingering one. Tell him you're leaving and I'll sell the business. We'll move far away, be together all the time."
I jerked my hand away, turning my back so he couldn't see my tears starting to flow. "Don't make this any harder than it is, Paul. I've made up my mind. Don't call me anymore, and leave me alone."
I felt his hands on my shoulders, roughly forcing me around, pulling me into his hard body, his warm lips suddenly locked on mine. I lasted about five seconds before my tongue was inside his mouth trying to find his soul. His hands on my ass, he pushed his stiffness against me until I lost my breath, wrapping my arms around his neck in desperation. I never wanted to let him go.
We finally pulled our heads back to catch our breaths. In another minute we'd probably have been fucking on the picnic table nearby. He stared at me silently and then with one finger, wiped a tear from my face. He held it, looking at it for a moment, then licked it off. "Tastes like sad tears," he said. "Not like the happy ones on that first night in the hotel room."
Suddenly, I started sobbing, pain knifing through me like a blade. "Hey, hey," he said. "The last thing I want is to hurt you."
Finally I was able to pull away, looking into his eyes. "Paul, please let me go. Please," I whispered.
He finally did, and it felt so wrong. Releasing me, he stepped back, looking sad. "I won't be the cause of your pain anymore, Julie. I see you like this and know I'm to blame for it, I can't take it." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then just turned and walked away. After a while, I followed but when I got to the parking lot, his car was nowhere to be seen.
I was miserable but I'd expected to be that way for a while, so I threw everything I had into refurbishing my marriage and making Mark happy. He seemed to notice it, especially my renewed interest in sex, and after I'd nearly chewed his cock off one night imagining it was Paul's, he remarked upon it.
"Damn that was good, Honey. You've gotten better and better through the years. You never even used to swallow my cum! Now, it's as if you're starved for it. Don't get me wrong. I love it, but has anything changed?"
My heart almost stopped beating for an instant, but then I forced a smile, snuggling closer to his chest. "I just wanted to show you how much I love you, darling. You're a great husband."
He kissed my forehead and smiled down at me. "You know what I've been thinking?" he said. I looked back questioning, and he went on. "I'm thinking I'd like to have a son to pass the business on to."
A son? He suddenly wanted a child? The revelation stunned me for a moment but then I thought, Well why not? Maybe that's exactly what we needed to bring us back together. When I thought about it, stopping my birth-control pills made sense. There was also the overriding factor that it would also force me to stay away from Paul! I knew he didn't like condoms and if there was a possibility I'd become pregnant, neither of us would risk that, even if we did "fall off the wagon" should we happen to see other at some company function.
Months went by and I pleaded off going to three different company parties to avoid the risk of seeing Paul there. Mark and I tried to conceive each time my cycle arrived, but so far, no signs of a baby - the persistent little "rabbit" just continued to live every time. Not a day went by that I didn't miss Paul so badly it bordered on physical pain. Many hours were spent just sitting in that big empty house, crying my eyes out.
It wasn't the sex entirely, I argued with myself, although I'd never had anything that came close to the excitement and pleasure I felt when Paul fucked me. I am reluctant to call it, "making love." That's not what we did. It was the primitive animal pounding I took from his formidable penis that made me crave him so. He was totally dominate and uninhibited in his demands, controlling my body and mind, even my pleasure. I remembered specifically how he'd denied me permission to climax until he wanted me to, how hard that had been, how humiliating, how painful - how exquisite.
Shivering uncontrollably I walked to the phone, picked it up and stared at it. I knew his number. All I had to do was call and he'd come right over, the pain ending. I laid the phone down, went into the bedroom and cried some more.
I remember the day before the Corporate Ball. "You have to be there, Honey. This is a big deal! All the right people will be there with their spouses. It's formal, and they flew in a chef from New York especially for this. I just don't understand why you're reluctant to attend company functions! You always enjoyed them before."
