Regime Change Pt 03 Cowed

PART 3: COWED

Maid of dishonor.

Darlene and Nubia laughed long and loud in the breakfast nook of Darlene's big house. They had been friends, best friends, for ten years, since they were 20. They called and/or texted each other every day, had breakfast, lunch, or dinner together almost every other day until Darlene's marriage six months ago. They knew each other's secrets.

***

They had met in UCLA, Darlene Fontaine majoring in Communications, Nubia Silva in Business Admin. In some ways they were opposites. Darlene was tallish, slim (even ten years later), had a full head of raven hair, was flat as a board, with high cheekbones, fine features, clear blue eyes and had an ass that you could (in her words) "bounce a quarterback off of." She was out-going, very talkative, adventurous. She was known to some as "Dare-lene."

Nubia had fine lustrous brunette hair, large intense dark brown eyes, full round breasts ("the melons" Darlene called them, eyeing them enviously). The plump ass she had in university had widened and grown "thicc" (a porn term that Darlene used that bugged her) over the last ten years. Nubia was on the short side. Her parents had immigrated from Brazil when she was ten. Nubia had a faint Portuguese accent. She was a woman of few but well chosen words. She seemed somewhat aloof to many but this was better understood as self-contained.

Nubia and Darlene became fast friends and when they were not attending classes or writing papers they did almost everything together: work-outs at the gym, shopping, visiting each other's families, going to the hair salon, holidaying and partying.

They partied a lot. Darlene wasn't shy. The first time Darlene brought a frat boy back to the off-campus apartment she shared with Nubia, she took off her dress in the kitchen and demanded the frat boy bang her on the counter top, knowing full well Nubia was eating mac and cheese at the kitchen table. Nubia said nothing but very carefully watched the adult entertainment.

There were times when they holidayed in Mexico and they'd bring men to their hotel rooms and "go their separate ways" (as they would joke): one on the bed with her cheap thrill, the other on the floor with her midnight special. Once in a while Darlene would give Nubia a look that asked "join us?" Nubia always declined these offers with a quick shake of her head.

On the night of the day they graduated they held hands when, drunk on tequila, they swore to be best friends forever and got star burst "tramp stamp" tattoos at the same time.

After a year of being the telegenic spokesperson for a few government agencies, Darlene changed gears and became a Pilates instructor. She now owned a successful studio with a clientele made of the wives of semi-rich husbands.

Nubia worked for different business consultancy firms over the years. This work involved at lot of travel across the States and to Vancouver and Toronto in Canada.

But they kept in touch daily wherever they were and shared their frustrations, successes and ups and downs of work, parents, romance and sex. By phone, text, Skype or during long lunches or dinners, they'd share every detail of their one night stands, flings and affairs (some of which in Darlene's case were with married men and women.)

"It's amazing how many married women decide they're bi-curious after a few Pilates sessions," a drunken Darlene had once joked after a home cooked meal at Nubia's apartment. Soon after saying this Darlene started caressing Nubia's breasts. Bleary-eyed, she mumbled "melons" and then passed-out, face first, on to Nubia's lap.

Nubia had gently pushed Darlene off her lap, took off Darlene's dangling ear rings and shoes, put her friend on her side on the couch and pulled a blanket up to her chin. Before turning off the lights in the front room, Nubia had looked at her friend and said to herself: "I have no interest in Pilates".

When a hung-over Darlene stumbled to the breakfast table, she asked, "What happened last night?"

"What didn't happen last night?" Nubia teased.

Three years ago Nubia married a man named Gordon Price. "The Price is right" as, inevitably, Darlene nicknamed him, was five years older than Nubia. He was two rungs higher up the corporate ladder than her. He made good money for the firm. He was dependable, reliable, a safe-bet. And not un-handsome. When he asked Nubia for a date, she accepted, thinking he'd be a good investment. Nubia decided it was time to settle down. After a year of dates Price proposed, Nubia accepted, they got married at city hall (Darlene was Maid of Honor) and promptly had a mortgage together which allowed them to buy a house in the 'burbs. (Nubia had become estranged from her parents. They didn't attend the wedding.)

Nubia cheated (her word) on her husband for the first time exactly two months after the end of their honeymoon. She let the bartender of the Toronto hotel she was staying in for a business trip pick her up. Sex with her husband was intermittent.

She only had "pick me ups" on her business trips and not on every trip. Only when the spirit moved her, because (as she said to Darlene once) "the problem with casual sex is it can be quite... casual...hit on and miss..hit on right out of the park...it's a lottery--thank God for the Pill." (Nubia gave Darlene in-depth reports of her on-goings-on.)

Nine months ago Darlene texted Nubia: "I've met an interesting man." Nubia didn't hear a word from her friend for a month. Then on a Saturday morning the call display on Nubia's cel winked DAR DAR DAR.

"You in LA?"

"Darlene, where have you been? And: Yes."

"Let's have lunch today at Hell's Kitchen, I've made reservations."

"What? How? OK."

When Darlene sat down at their table her face was aglow.

"I'm getting married!"

"You? Married?"

"It's a dirty job but somebody's got to do me."

"Who?"

"His name is Lance. He completely accepts me for who I am. When he proposed, I told him he didn't know the real me. I felt compelled to open up to him completely. I told him about all the men and woman who've F-U-C-K-O'ed me. He wanted all the dets. I told him everything. I told him I can't give him babies. And he said, 'I still want you to be my wife."

"Darlene, I..."

"We're getting married in the Catholic Church!"

"I didn't know you were Catholic."

"Neither did I!" The friends laughed long and hard.

***

And here they were ten years after first meeting in one of UCLA's cafeterias, finishing off two plates of Darlene's famous French Toast ("the magic ingredient is the orange zest," she always said when serving the dish), in the huge kitchen of the huge three storied house Darlene married into when she married Lance.

Darlene has settled down but she certainly hasn't settled, Nubia said to herself, this place is more like a castle than an house.

Nubia had dropped by before work to have breakfast alone with Darlene. Lance was away on business for two days. The friends hadn't seen much of each other since Darlene left for her honeymoon in Italy. Though they had (as almost always) texted and called each other, this was the first time they'd been alone together in the same room since the morning of Darlene's wedding.

After swallowing the last bite of her French Toast, Darlene's expression became what Nubia called "Dare-lene's-Got-a-Big-Announcement-Face."

"What's that saying? Be careful what you wish for?"

"It's: 'Be careful who you fish with' darling," Nubia replied with a straight face before finishing the last bite of her French Toast.

"Really?" asked Darlene as she slowly got up from the nook and took their plates to the sink.

What's up with Darlene today? Nubia asked herself, watching her friend rinse the dishes and put them in the washer. Darlene was still wearing her penguins-with-sunglasses pj's. Nubia was dressed for work.

Darlene leaned her fantastic ass against the marble counter-top, slid some locks of her raven hair behind her left ear, crossed her arms across her flat chest and with an embarrassed grin announced, "My husband is a big man, in every sense of that phrase."

You've been married to Lance for six months and I still don't know what he does, thought Nubia as she looked at Darlene impassively.

Darlene sighed wistfully, "Even though he's fifteen years older than me, my husband has the most incredible...stamina, he fucks me morning, noon and night."

Nubia stayed still and quiet.

"My pussy is sore, it hurts when I sit down, the only time I get a break is during my period or when Lancer is away on business or days like tomorrow when I have to be at my studio all-day--which reminds me, I'll have to leave before he gets back in the morning because I've got to cover for an instructor who's on mat leave--if he catches me before I get out of the house, I'll be under the juggernaut the whole day."

Nubia listened deeply to her friend.

"Sometimes I wish he'd boink one of the maids or get a little something-something on the side and give the dear wife a much needed rest," Darlene laughed and made a clownish face, "but not really."

Nubia glanced at her watch.

"Look at the time--I've got to go to work," Nubia said quietly as she got out of the nook. She slung her purse over the crook of her left arm. She hugged her friend and kissed Darlene on each cheek.

When Nubia closed the driver's door of her car and put the key in the ignition, she suddenly became self-conscious about how wet she was between her legs.

***

The next morning Nubia stood in nothing but her lingerie in front of the full length mirror in the bed room she shared with her husband. Her husband had already left for work. She told Price she was going to spend the day making cold calls around town "for old time's sake." If her husband thought this was odd he showed no sign of it.

The lacy mocha-colored brassiere pushed her breasts together in a delectable supermarket produce display. After slowly arching her eyebrows and slightly elevating her chin, Nubia undid the clasp in the front of the bra and made it fall from her shoulders. She wore simple fake pearl ear studs and had applied a little more mascara than usual this morning. She put her hands on her hips and started to pull her black satin panties down and then stopped. That would be over the top, Nubia thought.

Nubia put on beige slacks, a white blouse and a short navy blue jacket with pseudo-nautical buttons. By doing up one of the jacket buttons she covered her nipples (which were easily seen through her blouse). She stepped into simple, black high-heeled shoes.

In short, Nubia put on (with one exception) her normal work cloths. She then drove to Darlene and Lance's house.

A Filipina maid with suspiciously large breasts answered the door. Nubia had rung the bell twice. She noticed Lance's Jaguar was in the open garage; Darlene's Humvee was gone.

The maid scrunched her eyebrows in irritation, which quickly transformed into a transparently fake smile.

"Hi, I'm here to see Darlene," said Nubia calmly, her large, beige, much buckled purse dangling from her left arm.

"Mrs. left for work"--Nubia was sure that last word was dipped in sarcasm--"ten minutes ago--Mister just arrived." The maid stood in the entrance to the house her body Tagalog saying: You go now.

"Oh, I forgot Darlene's teaching Pilates today," Nubia said blankly, "I'll, I'll just say a quick hello and..."

"Mister's busy, he..." From deep inside the house Lance's baritone cut through the noise: "Who's at the door, Mariz?"

Mariz cocked an eyebrow at Nubia.

"I'm Nubia, we've met before." Can't the maid remember who I am? Mrs. Price asked herself.

"Nub, Nubby?!" Mariz yelled.

After a brief pause Lance called out: "Nubia? Send her up!"

Clearly frustrated, her pert young mouth pursed with disdain, Mariz stepped aside to allow Nubia entrance into Darlene and Lance's huge, three story house.

Nubia stood in the foyer before the black steps and banisters of an imperial double staircase. Lance was no where to be seen. Mariz disappeared, leaving in her wake the pad-pad-pad of flip-flops and the scent of mango-go.

He said 'send her up', Nubia thought looking at the top of the staircase. Passing under the chandelier, the sharp report of heels echoing throughout the "Great Hall" of the first floor, Nubia mounted the left side of the double stair case and rapidly ascended. She knew where she was going.

At the top of the staircase she took the left hallway. She passed many closed doors and some opened rooms: a library, an entertainment room, the Master Bedroom. She walked by two spiral stairwells that lead God knows where. Nubia's dark eyes lingered on a Roberto Ferri painting hanging in an alcove. Unbeknownst to Nubia this untitled work was not listed in Ferri's catalogue. Nubia walked to the end of the long hall way towards the open double doors of Lance's office.

She walked through the doorway. Lance had a big office. The floor was covered by a huge Persian carpet. It had floor to ceiling teak book selves chock-a-block with quaint and curious volumes of lore. It had a sliding glass door which opened to a sun deck. And at one end of it, a large, black, baroque writing pedestal desk, behind which stood, an opened brief case before him, Darlene's husband Lance.

"It looks like we both just missed my wife," Lance was exacerbated.

Nubia had first laid eyes on Lance at Darlene's wedding rehearsal. He couldn't take his eyes off his bride-to-be. Nubia had quick studied him closely. Lance was tall, his muscles rippled under his white cotton shirt like steel cables, with dark, penetrating eyes. He seemed a real hard ass. He reminded Nubia of the conquistadors, except for his clean shaven head and face.

Nubia was the Maid of Honor at Darlene's wedding ("one good turn deserves another," Darlene had joked.) As she stood next to Darlene, watching her friend and Lance exchange vows, Nubia's nipples had ached to be sucked.

And now, six months later:

"I knew she wasn't going to be here when I arrived," Nubia confessed, dropping her purse on the floor and undoing the one closed button of her jacket. When the jacket spread open Nubia's large, hard nipples could be clearly seen through her tight white blouse.

Lance got harder than an obelisk. His eyes burned a whole right through Nubia. With a face filled with mix metaphors, he hissed: "More."

Nubia put her jacket over the back of the simple chair that sat before the baroque desk. She undid the sleeves and then from collar bone to navel the buttons down the front of her blouse, which made it hang at her sides like flags of surrender. Her full, round, luscious breasts had large, hard, highly excited enticing nipples like ripe purple grapes. Nubia tilted her head to the left, some of her long brunette shimmering hair covering half her face.

Lance shut the lid of his brief case revealing the obelisk in his pants. He sat down in his large red leather upholstered swivel throne-like chair. Nubia stepped out of her high-heeled shoes and quickly walked behind the baroque desk, Lance swiveling in her direction. Standing before her best friend's husband, Nubia presented her breasts, eye-level-best.

Like white on rice, Lance started sucking, sucking deeply, loudly, on Nubia's nipples, pulling them out like cotton candy, squeezing each tit in turn with both of his hard hands, sending squeals pulsing throughout her half-naked body. Lance's tongue ran circles around Nubia's nipples as she cradled the back of his thick neck. He gave each nipple a not quite gentle bite, before sucking down hard. He gave her tits the tongue lashing of a life time.

Abruptly he took his mouth and hands off Nubia's melons and sat back, legs spread, pants bulging, with a grin of unmistakable brazen entitlement spreading across Lance's reddening face.

Without hesitation, Nubia got down on her knees before Lance's bulging--she undid his belt buckle--pants, stroking the blue material of his Armani. She pulled down the zipper and pulled out from black boxers Lance's...

Battering Ram, Nubia gasped, feeling a stab of fear for the fate of her pussy. Darlene had said her husband is a big man, for once Darlene had used understatement: Lance is a huge man.

Her wedding ring clearly visible, Nubia's right index and thumb encircled the head of the snake and slowly slid down making little up/down motions with the palm of her hand and her wrist. It was circumcised, long, thick, a real straight arrow.

Lance is hung like a Minotaur, Nubia gasped inside, I've wanted to suck his thing since the day he got married. Nubia bent her head down and slowly put the bulbous purple tip of Lance's lance into her hungry mouth. She loudly sucked the cock of her best friend's husband.

Her hands jittery from passion, Nubia pulled off Lance's leather shoes, black socks, leather belt, pants and boxers. Lance tilted his chair back a few degrees, still wearing a white shirt and a thin black tie.

Using the flat of her tongue Nubia licked the underside of Lance's rigid rod from his balls to the tippy-tip of the tip where the tip of her tongue did pirouettes. And then she sucked on Lance's cock some more more more. Lance and Nubia saw eye-to-eye on this subject. Lance ran his large fingers through Nubia's long hair moaning deeply.

"Is your husband's cock bigger?" Lance asked in his baritone. Nubia stopped sucking Lance's rod and with a serious look silently mouthed the word "No".

Nubia sucked sideways down the back of Lance's shaft down to his balls. She eagerly sucked each of his big, hard balls, highly conscious that each of them was filled with the frustration of Lance not being able to fuck his wife for two whole days.

Abruptly, Nubia stood up. She quickly unbuttoned unzipped and dropped her beige slacks and then slowly pulled down her black satin panties, leaving Lance staring at a perfectly trimmed inverted pyramid of lustrous black hair.

"How retro," Lance laughed as he held Nubia by the hips and gave her cunt a long deep lick with his thick tongue. Nubia's cunt was drenched with her desire for Darlene's Lance. She stroked his shaven head as he lapped her up, his hard hands caressing her thicc ass.

Abruptly, Nubia took a step backwards, which caught Lance mid-lick, causing him to nearly fall out of his chair.

Nubia yanked off her blouse and said hoarsely, "I want it in the Master's bedroom." She then turned her wide thicc ass towards Lance, showing him an all-too-familiar star burst tramp stamp, stepped into her black high-heeled shoes and walked into the hallway.

***

Nubia was sitting on the edge of Darlene and Lance's canopied four poster bed, her thighs crossed, a high-heeled shoe dangling insouciantly from her right big toe, when a naked Lance marched into the Master's bedroom, swinging his big dick. He was red-faced. His battering ram was a vivid livid hell-bent avenger. Lance's hard hands pushed her down onto the bed (which made her big breasts bounce provocatively) and then easily spread open Nubia's thighs, leaving her high heels dangling over the floor.

His obsidian eyes looking deep into Nubia's darkly lined eyes, Lance pushed his thick right index finger into her tight wet cunt and then he pushed his thick second finger deep into her bush. This bushwhacking made Nubia cry out, her Portuguese accent thickening. Lance's two finger saluting brought Nubia to the edge of orgasm and then threw her over the edge. She screamed all the way to rock-n-roll bottoms up and out.

Not giving her a second chance to catch her breath, Lance shoved the head of his battering ram into her rapidly pulsing cunt. Nubia's eye grew wide as Lance's pushiness spread her cunt lips wide. His feet firmly planted on the ground he planted his wood inside her bush. His rod would spread her wider wider, then he pulled back from the brink, then wider wider, back from the brink and then he rammed it home, a screaming Nubia hanging on to his hard ass for dear life. Nubia was filled to bursting. Lance pounded! Lance plowed! Lance pulled out!