The Bad Boy

Suddenly, quite unanticipated, Reggie rose above me, strained, and I knew that I was being deluged with Reggie's goop. I didn't mind, since our first time together I've always enjoyed the feel of his sperm spreading inside me. And yet, strangely, it wasn't Reggie's seed I wanted, needed, but the hunk's on the next mattress. After Reggie drained himself we kissed, but it didn't seem that cuddling was proper etiquette in this arena, if you weren't screwing you should vacate, and so at Reggie's biding I rose, we headed out, our show over.

We passed the pool, Reggie asked, "A swim?"

"Sure."

We entered, joined six or seven people, I found there was a bank of showers and I rinsed myself, especially between my legs, before I entered the heated water. I stretched my muscles, took inventory. Everything was grand, my skin had that brightness it gets after I've been screwed marvelously, as I held onto Reggie I sensed the closeness that exists between lovers. We began to play again, he was soft and I knew that he wouldn't be ready yet for some time but still he enjoys attention, so I stroked his cock under the surface of the water. He didn't ignore me, my breasts were petted, my cunt twiddled. Slowly, he gained my trust and got me into a floating position, one hand on the small of my back for balance, the other poking inside me, hitting my g-spot, I came again.

Then an excruciating bright light hit my pupils. "What the hell!?!" I swore.

"Two o'clock," Reggie explained, "the club closes in half an hour."

We searched the premises, found our clothes in the stadium, I slipped into the ladies room to dress myself, attempt to repair the damage to my hair, my makeup. On the way out we found cake and coffee, grabbed a plate and cup for the drive home.

Reggie wanted to talk, I didn't. If he asked me a question, I grunted a reply, feigning sleepiness. I needed to reflect, digest the auras of the erotic cave I'd been introduced to. Was it really that active each weekend night? Were there really dozens of women ready, willing, to screw a greater multitude of men indiscriminately? Why had I felt so comfortable joining, leaping, into the fray? And, if Dionysus had made a pass at me, would I really have let him take me in front of others? The answer to the last one was easy, a resounding 'allelujah!'

I begged Reggie to spend the night with me, he was okay with that. We undressed at the bedside, then I attacked him. Somehow, strangely, I wanted more sex, and as I presented myself for his pleasure, fantasies of the playground we'd left haunted me until at last, completely sated, we slept.

Nine hours later, in bathrobes, our teeth brushed and faces washed, we sipped coffee, dined on buttered toast with cinnamon and chatted.

"You had fun last night!" he challenged me.

"A ball. Yes, it was quite the time! I've heard about those kind of places, but didn't think they really existed, especially not so close. Have you gone there often?"

"A few times." I wanted to ask him when was the last time, if he went with another woman, how many skanks he'd screwed there, but in keeping with my lack of care, refrained.

Instead, I queried, "You knew I was the kind of girl that'd get into that when we first met, didn't you?"

"Not right at first. After maybe a month I thought so."

"Why didn't you take me there then?"

"I didn't think you'd be so . . . easy, I guess. I thought you needed time to settle in. You really got off in the common room!"

"You expected me to, didn't you? I mean, you know how much I like it when there's just a chance of people looking at us. In there, I could actually see them watching me." I know I smiled, a wicked grin.

"You want to go again, don't you?"

"Sometime. Not too soon."

"Why not?"

"I think it could get to be a habit, like heroin or something."

"Is that bad?" Reggie asked.

"I don't know. I just think I should take my time."

"What about that couple we met?"

"She was into you," I observed.

"He was into you. He'd like to take you to bed, that's for sure."

"Do you know them?"

"Not until last night. They gave me their email address."

I paused, sipped my coffee. "Can I ask you a question?" I searched his face, looking for clues. "Do you want me to fuck other guys? Would that get you off?" Perhaps my voice rose a tad.

"You're fantastic, you've got a great body, a great attitude about sex. Most girls, they're hung up on what they should do, what they shouldn't do. You, well, you like to explore. And, you know, we've done just about everything there is to do. So, yeah, the next thing, I guess, is sex with other people. At least think about it. Think of the things you've tried so far."

I did. There were so many, many things I did now, regularly, with Reggie, that I'd never even considered thirty weeks ago. And I didn't love Reggie. I was fond of him, I really liked going to bed with him. But I didn't think there was a chance in hell that I'd ever want to marry him. What kind of a father would he be? So, it was just fun and games. I liked fun and games, I did. So, would spreading myself around be just fun and games? I wasn't sure.

I kissed him. "Let's go back to bed," I offered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The weeks went by. At night, in the privacy of my apartment, I considered my options. I looked up Club Illicit's website, found for just a very modest fee, much lower than a single male, I could show up by myself, dance with whomever I pleased, I was sure I'd have numerous guys hanging on me, I could take my pick. I looked at swinger sites, discovered many married women wanted to play with other women, with or without their husbands. I would be a 'unicorn,' that pleased me. In my bed, after turning off the sidelight, I fantasized; Reggie wasn't a part of it, the Dionysus was!

It wasn't that I was done with Reggie, not at all. He was perfectly useable still, continued to turn me on. But I began to feel I was ready to turn the page and read the next chapter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a Friday night. Reggie and I had a date, he called me up at lunch and asked, "Want to try something new?"

"Sure! What?"

"It's a surprise. You don't want me to ruin it, do you?"

"No, I guess not." In fact, I loved the tension I felt when I was sure there was something new about to happen, I savored it. "What time?"

"I've got a thing, I'll be there about nine, okay?"

"Are we staying in or going out? Should I get dressed up?"

"Don't worry about it." This was frustrating, how the hell do I know what I'm supposed to look like? "I'll see you then, okay?" Asshole! But I thought about it all afternoon.

I made it home just after six, and in the living room there was a large pink box waiting for me. I opened the box, read the note.

'It's going to be a great night. Wear these . . . Reggie."

Inside, wrapped in tissue, was a satin ebony bra, lacy panties, a garter belt with stockings, six inch high heels, dusky pearl earrings. And a USB with a hours of soft jazz on it. That was it, Reggie was going to have a 'romantic' night, something we hadn't done in quite awhile.

I had almost three hours until my lover came to meet me, all the time in the world. I ate a salad, had a glass of wine to relax me. I figured Reggie planned on spending the evening here, I changed the sheets to an ivory pattern of smoothest Egyptian cotton.

Then it was into the bathroom. I poured the tub, full of bubbles, and for forty minutes let my mind wander. Did it touch upon a return to Illicit, the thought of sex with other men? Yes, perhaps. But Reggie was there too, the wonderful things he did, the things he knew, the experiences and feelings he cultivated in me.

I drained the tub, shaved my pits and every inch of my nether region, save only the three square inches of cropped hair I kept for emphasis. Then I paid attention to my hair, drying it, fluffing my short mahogany locks into their place. I plucked and trimmed my brows, applied eye coloring and mascara. Foundation stick and blush were used, and finally I applied shimmering strawberry gloss to my lips. The mantle clock chimed nine times, that was all right, Reggie knew I was never ready on time.

I put the clothing Reggie had left for me on, they were of the highest quality, made my skin feel so fantastic. The earrings accented my outfit perfectly, I could stand and walk - barely - in the extreme heels. I knew I was ready to play the part of the thousand dollar a night escort. I lit a few candles in the bedroom, put the music on the bluetooth.

I sat in a chair in the living room, trying my best not to muss, thumbing through a magazine. The article I read was titled, '15 Things Guys Think When You're on Top.' Did Reggie really worry about whose job it was to put it back in when it popped out, or concern himself with how (or if) he should move? Okay, that wasn't doing it. How about a story? I picked up a book of women's erotica.

That was better, it was really starting to get me in the mood. That stupid clock dinged ten times, Reggie was really late. Should I worry, text him? No, not yet. He'd been late before. But maybe I could start without him? Sure! I swayed into the bedroom, composed myself, put a hand in to twist a nipple. Yes, that was good. The music from the playlist soothed me, I let my hand descend to my pubis. Through the fabric I irritated my clit, I was getting somewhere, I was about to push the fabric to the side when I heard a key scratch in the lock. My lover was here. Should I go out to meet him, or wait for him to come to me?

Then I heard his voice. "Hello?" But it wasn't his voice, it was two shades too low, filled with a timbre I wasn't familiar with. "Hello?" I heard again.

"Who is it?" I cried. "What are you doing here?" I rose excitedly, grabbed a throw and covered myself, didn't know just what I should do. I picked up the phone, ready to call 911.

"Reggie sent me," the voice explained.

"Reggie sent you? Who are you? He didn't tell me anything about this."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you knew. Should I leave?"

Trying to hide myself, I peeped around the corner to see the intruder. And then, only then, did I understand Reggie's true gift. It was the Dionysus, the man I'd lusted after at Illicit. How had Reggie known, I'd not mentioned him once, never spoken of my fantasy man. He had the smooth dark locks, the beautiful blue eyes. His facial hair was that perfect length of thick black stubble that's beautiful to see. His jeans were tight, his tee shirt stretched across that magnificent chest.

"Are you okay?" he called.

I knew now what Reggie's plan was. This man was a present, I could take it or reject it. A part of me was completely confused, the other part lusted. "What's your name?"

"Quentin."

I needed time, I asked again, "Quentin?"

"Yeah."

"And Reggie sent you."

"He said you were expecting me. He gave me a key."

"What are you supposed to do with me?"

"He said you're a hotwife. Or a hot girlfriend. Or something like that. And that you wanted something different." He paused. So that was Reggie's game. "Listen, if you want me to go, just say so."

"Hold on a minute. No, sit down. Make yourself a drink if you want."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"There's wine and beer in the refrigerator."

"Okay."

I heard his steps across the room, heard the fridge door open. "Should I make one for you?"

"Wine, please. I'll be out in a minute."

So now, it was decision time. Why not? I'd thought about it long enough. Reggie had sent him here, he wouldn't be mad if I accepted what he'd put on my plate, would he? Was Reggie out with another girl, right at this moment? Who cared, Quentin's in my living room, and, apparently, he was willing. Why shouldn't I be?

I folded the throw, still nervous. As nervous as a virgin? No, not exactly that. As nervous as an old maid faced with temptation? Yes, that was more like it. Should I get dressed before I went out to meet Quentin? I felt my heart pound, I was sure Quentin could hear it in the living room, it was loud enough. My mouth was dry, there was a slight metallic taste. I recognized the feeling, it had happened that very first night with Reggie, the time I first walked into Illicit. I was ready for an experience!

I bit the bullet, strode on those ridiculous heels toward my fate.

"I'm Melynda," I introduced, and shook his hand. His eyes scanned my body thoroughly, taking in each inch that was uncovered, paying especial attention to the parts that were. He was sitting in the chair, I plopped into the sofa opposite.

"You're the woman, the one at Illicit," he remarked.

"You remember?" I said.

"Of course. I thought you were beautiful. I mean, I think you are beautiful."

"But you were having a pretty good time, weren't you?"

"Well, yeah, I guess. But you know, sometimes, what's the phrase, 'the grass is greener?'"

"I understand. Waving a hand across my goose flesh I asked, "Is it still green?"

"Oh, yeah." He nervously sipped his beer.

"My boyfriend is playing a game on me," I explained. "I expected him to show up, didn't know you'd be here. That's why I was so shaky back then."

"I guess I understand. I sort of feel funny. Maybe I should leave."

"No, not unless you want to." I licked my lips, took a sip of wine, the taste simply enhanced the metal in my mouth. Quentin made no move to leave. "Do you want to leave?" I asked.

"No, not really. You're very beautiful," he repeated.

I stood, making sure he could look me over. I felt his eyes examine my body, even though he seemed to be trying not to let me see his lustful gaze. "Stand up, will you?" He rose, we were three feet from each other. "Take off your shirt, please." As the hem climbed, I gawked at those perfect abs, that muscled chest, the pinpoints of his nipples on the firm skin. "What do you do?"

"I'm a fireman."

"You work out."

"Some. A couple times a day. We've got weights in the firehouse."

I approached him, placed a palm on his torso, the first touch between us. There was a softness covering the hardness, so pleasant I almost crowed. "Your body is perfect."

I pushed against him, felt my breasts crush against his sinew, in those heels we were the same height, I pressed my lips against his. For a few brief seconds our lips remained as tight O's, then we relaxed. His mouth was sweet, his tongue rough in my mouth. His arms encircled my waist, I trembled to think what was to happen to me. With him!

He smelled good, just the right mixture of musk and his natural scent. After a reasonable amount of time, our hands began to roam, I felt my shoulder blades being rubbed, I put my hand on his firm ass. That enflamed him, he put both of his hands on my back, pulled me closer, I bit his lips.

"Do you want to come into the bedroom?" I invited.

"Yeah. Absolutely."

On my way, holding his hand in mine, I turned off the living room lights, my apartment was now dark, mysterious, romantic. I sat on the bed, he was beside me, we were kissing again. My hands roamed his torso, his arms. Not one speck of him felt soft, all was firm muscle. I'd never felt a man like this before, all of my lovers had a bit of fat on them; in the last couple of years of our marriage, my husband's waist had expanded four inches. I couldn't wait, I put my hand on his loin. There it was, inside the jeans, rocklike, overlong.

He was pawing at me, I let him, I needed him to. One breast popped out of it's bowl, he felt it, the first twitch of my nipple sent me high. "Take your pants off," I demanded.

"Okay." After just a bit of fumbling, I was lying with a naked man, a perfect stranger, I didn't mind, didn't care. My hand held the prick. Yes, I could tell it's girth, longer than any I'd contacted before. In the candlelight it was dark in it's rage, my fingers clutched it, traced the distinctive curve. I bent, took it in my mouth. It was sweet and fresh, and the precum strangely tasted of avocados. The balls were just as large, and in his state were tight and drawing into a firm globe. As I bobbed my head - I couldn't fit more than a third of it in without hitting the back of my throat - I twisted my hand a little, heard his moans. "You're good," he groaned, "the best!"

He'd not even touched me, down there, and I was ready to go off. I didn't need more foreplay, I got my panties down and off, and without a second's delay, climbed on up. Have you ever gone shopping for gloves, tried a cheap pair on and they were too large and your hand sort of flopped around in it? And then you try on an expensive pair, just the right size, and it feels so good, so luxurious? That's what Quentin's dick felt like inside me. Just the perfect size when I sat on top of him and we ground our bones together. Not too large, it didn't stretch or hurt me, but it filled me up, surpassing any that had come before it. I wriggled, feeling the various sensations as my vaginal sides stroked it, the head poked against the different points in my pussy. When I bent down to kiss him and it was almost out of me, I felt the arched tip bump into my g-spot, it was all I needed, the colors I saw were unimaginable.

I fucked him, he held on to me. I felt him fumble with the bra strap, I reached behind my back and whisked it away. Now my breasts were on his solid chest, his hair was tickling my nipples, he bent me and sucked at them, I came again! Nice and hard. Again. I was up there, I did my best to stay there. Through my fog I felt his hands roaming around my body, my boobs, my ass, my neck, his fingers swept through my hair. I assume I was doing much the same to him, I can't really remember.

Then, without much effort at all, and I'm not a little girl, he twisted, put his feet on the floor, stood up. He was holding me, my legs encircled his waist, and using those tremendous arms, he pulled me up, then let me sink again. Oh, it was delicious, I may have blacked out for a couple of seconds in my ecstasy. He led me to my dresser, put his back to it, I put my feet on the top - now I could rise and fall at my desire. Another, and another great come. He wasn't done yet, he carried me back to the bed, threw me down onto the mattress, turned me over, again he had that wonderful cock inside me. We twisted in our elation. When he had me half off the bed, I was supporting myself with my hands on the floor, I sensed that delicious tenseness that comes over men a half minute before they're ready. "I'm going to come!" he screamed.

"Go ahead!" I yelled back, "Give it to me!" And he did, grunting and blubbering and I felt my cunt being glutted with his cum. And that, too, sent me once more over the edge. I bet, if anyone was listening outside my window, they wondered if they should call the cops.

He pulled out, I knew the bed would have one very wet spot, I didn't care. We swiveled around, faced each other, kissed. There was no cuddling, no downtime, I was amazed he was still hard. Once again I went down on him, he tasted completely different now, sweet and salty. Somebody should make sperm flavored candies, I'd buy them. As I was cleaning him off, he put a thumb inside me, started finger fucking me. Again, it was simply incredible, I had a little bit more of a come.

He used his super sized muscles to turn me over, on my back, and I spread for him, we were fucking again. I managed to get a couple of pillows under my ass, tried to move my legs around for just the right insertion, found two or three different ways. I wanted to come again, but I think I was overloaded. I'd approach the precipice, then my body would rebel, the elastic of the garter belt was scratching me. I was done. But don't think I didn't like the way he was stroking inside me, around me. Again I felt the muscles of his ass, his chest, his arms. After a while, not too long, I felt him tense up again, knew that more of his sperm was being spurted deep inside me.