Strangers in the Day
I unlocked the front door and walked in. All the lights were off and the flickering light coming from the bedroom let me know that “He” had fallen asleep in his usual position.
I stood in the bedroom doorway looking at his peaceful form sprawled across the bed. His mouth was slightly open, surrounded by full soft lips. In his sleep he had kicked the covers off of himself and his limp penis lay seductively across his thigh. It seemed to sense me looking at it and twitched. My body began to remember what he was capable of doing to it, and my pussy got moist at the memory of my encounter earlier that night and the knowledge that this man laying in my bed could do that and so much more when he wanted to. Unfortunately, he rarely wanted to anymore.
Against my will, the memories washed over me in a flood. I remembered the way he would kiss me, the way he would touch me. I began to long for the taste of his dick as it grew hard in my mouth. I began to walk to the bed, my heart aching for him, needing him to touch me the way he once did so eagerly. There was a surreal glow about him as he lay there, inviting me back into his heart. Inviting me back to the way things were before familiarity set in; before the deceit and lies started.
Just as I began to approach the bed, his open mouth produced a horrendous “SNOOOORRRRRT” and he farted. The illusion shattered and I realized just in time that if I had gone to the bed, he would have surely turned me away. “I worked a late shift,” he would say, “I just got home. Jeez woman, can’t I get some peace?” he would say. The glow turned out to only be the light from the television reflecting off of the wall behind him.
Dejected I instead altered my course and headed to the bathroom. I stepped out of my pants and peeled off my shirt and dropped it on top of the heap my pants were in. As I stood there naked, the room quickly filled with the smell of the remains of my earlier arousal. I turned on the shower full blast and let the room fill with steam. This only served to amplify the telltale sign of my transgressions. The smell of sex brought back all the memories, every thrust; every sensation. The nape of my neck was still sore where he had wound his hands in my hair and pulled. My nipple was still a little tender to the touch where he had pinched it mercilessly. My clit started to throb and my pussy got moist while I stood there reliving the experience in my head.
Images from my midnight romp on the hood of a stranger’s car came back to me in LSD type flashbacks. My clit was on fire and my fingers found their way to her bud. I rubbed my throbbing clit to a frenzy, my knees nearly buckling as my orgasm rolled over me in waves, as it always does. I moaned quietly as I began to come down from my self induced high. Wow… Three times in one night… had to be a record for the year.
I jumped in the shower and soaped my body with Bath & Body works body wash, covering the lingering scent of my tryst with the smell of cucumber and melon. As I continued to wash, I became more and more depressed. There was a time when I loved smelling like sex… would walk around all day enjoying the telltale sign of what I had been doing. Now, here I was… washing it away instead of wearing it as a badge.
How did we get here? How did this happen? I stood under the stream of hot water and I tried to remember. I couldn’t… I couldn’t remember exactly when it began that I could walk in a room completely naked and not get even the slightest rise from him. I couldn’t remember exactly when he stopped calling my job during the day just to tell me he been dreaming about me. Couldn’t remember when it became okay for me not to be in bed with him when he got home from work in the wee hours of the morning. It had to have been a gradual thing. It just sort of evolved into this disgrace we call a marriage, right? Yeah that had to be it…
I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As I began to dry off, I let go of the sadness and put my game face back on. It was not easy to do. Amazing how good sex opens up all of the emotions in a woman. Closing them can be a chore in itself.
I opened the bathroom door and emerged a different woman than the one who went in. Poised and not allowing myself the disappointment of wanting my husband, I climbed into bed and covered myself. I settled into “my spot” and prepared to fall asleep. I smiled to myself… I’d almost forgotten how much of a sleep agent good dick can be.
~ ~ ~
I’m standing in our bedroom door… his ass, so beautiful in the candle light as it’s doing that “deep stroke roll” that he does so well. God, I actually LOVE watching him work. And this moment is not really much different. I am torn. Moans are filling every free space in the room. She sounds so good… if I wasn’t witnessing the death of my marriage I would be dripping wet, unable to pull my clothes off fast enough to join them.. Listening to her on the verge of tears as he strokes her deep yet gently… he’s so intense when he’s fucking. I know what she’s feeling.. with every stroke I can almost feel it myself… but she is not me… and I don’t know who she is or why she’s in my bed with my husband. My heart is crushed. I can’t breathe, I can’t see. I didn’t even see her face. I saw him, I saw red and I just walked out of the front door.
I woke with a start as the alarm sounded. 9am. “Early start after a late night,” I thought to myself as the fog of sleep began to clear. “That’s what I get for being grown and staying out all night.”
I never remember my dreams, but something tells me that I should be remembering this one. Something tells me that I need to be remembering this one. But it’s gone, and for some reason I let it go… even though my entire brain is telling me not to. Not just the .1% scientist claim we actually use, but the WHOLE thing is firing off synapses trying to get me to remember.
As I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, that “morning after sex feeling” was going on in my pussy. I turned and looked at His side of the bed to ask if maybe he’d had a momentary lapse in his reasoning and took me while I was asleep. Fortunately, he wasn’t there. It was several minutes before it dawned on me why I felt like I’d had sex. I grimaced as I considered the major faux pas I had almost committed. “You really suck at this cheating thing, Deon,” I chastised myself under my breath.
After throwing on some women’s gym shorts and a wife beater, I padded in bare feet to the kitchen. He was already sitting at the table when I entered.
“Hey, You.” I smiled.
“Hey, Sleepy Head.” He replied in return, not looking up from his paper.
“You want some breakfast?”
“No, unlike some of us here, I am not grown so I went to bed at a relatively decent hour and was able to get up at a reasonable hour and made my own breakfast. A nigga would starve waiting for you to get up on a Saturday morning.” He laughed.
I laughed as well, and followed with the lame retort, “Fuck you!”
I reached in the refrigerator for the orange juice when it struck me. This morning felt like old times… we exchanged playful banter. Wait… did we…? Did I imagine that? I stood there paused with my hand on the OJ, stunned. I slowly turned my head to look over my shoulder to see if I had imagined him sitting there. He was there alright… and He was actually staring at my ass. The shock caused me to bolt upright. I dropped the OJ.
“What are YOU looking at?”
“Dayum, I hate when she wears that outfit.” I thought as she padded into the kitchen.
“Hey, You” she smiled at me.
“Hey, Sleepy Head” I replied, still peering over the top of my paper at her. “Dayum, she got some thick ass legs… always has, but that little bit of weight she’s put on that she’s always complaining about did her some good,” I thought to myself.
“You want some breakfast?”
It had been a while since she’d offered to cook breakfast for me, so I’d already eaten. “No, unlike some of us here, I am not grown so I went to bed at a relatively decent hour and was able to get up at a reasonable hour and made my own breakfast. A nigga would starve waiting for you to get up on a Saturday morning.” I laughed.
[i]“Man, it had been forever since we bantered like this… maybe things could go back… nah… you can’t ever go back… you can only move forw…”[i] She bent over into the fridge looking for something, probably orange juice, and all that ass peeked out from beneath those shorts and I totally lost my train of thought. Yeah… that weight did her REAL good.
I knew I was staring, GAWKING really, but I just couldn’t look away from the “light”. I saw her body weight shift slightly as she looked over her shoulder at me. Suddenly she stood up fast and dropped the OJ on the floor.
“What are YOU looking at?” At first I thought she was pissed. My heart skipped a beat… finally a reaction from her. [i]"She’s gonna say something about it. She’s finally going to say something."[i] I have been waiting for six months for this day. I take a deep breath and steady myself for the tirade that is coming… the one I deserve but never got… the one that showed me she cared. Then I really look at her and I realized that she was just shocked because she hadn’t noticed me looking at her since that night.
“I can now see what you mean by you got fat, that’s all,” I say as I return to reading my paper. I heard the words spilling out of my mouth but even I couldn’t believe I had said them. That was shitty and I’m an asshole. I glanced up as she turned to get the mop and clean the spill. I was expecting to see her looking hurt… no, I think I was actually hoping for it. But all I got was that stoic poker face she’d had been wearing since that night. The one that said, “Fuck you, Black Man… I don’t give a fuck about you or anything you do”. A stab of pain sliced through my heart… I missed her so much, but if she could pretend like it didn’t happen, so could I. I tried to go back to reading my paper… but I just kept staring at the words, not really seeing them wishing I could fix it all.
“OH MY GOD!!! Did he really just say that to me???” my brain screamed. I stood there, shocked and disoriented for what seemed like an eternity. As I came back to my senses, I closed my mouth and put my poker face back on. I turned to get the mop and clean up the mess I’d made.
I cleaned up the spill but the floor was still sticky so I got on my hands and knees with a bucket of hot, soapy water and scrubbed the kitchen floor.
Watching her on her hands and knees on the kitchen floor scrubbing the stickiness out of the linoleum was making my groin ache. I remembered a time when her on the floor like that would have had us ended up rolling around on the floor with the refrigerator door open, using its contents to cover each other in whatever would make more of a mess.
I watched as she changed the water for the second time and noticed how the water splashed up out of the sink onto the front of her white tank top undershirt. I held my breath hoping she would turn my way and I could get a quick peek of her big round tits and the fat nipples that stuck out like tootsie roll midgies. Fortunately, I was not disappointed as she struggled to pull the bucket out of the deep kitchen sink, splashing a little more water on herself as she did so, and turned towards me. There they were, plain as day thru the wet white top. Two perfectly round melons, 38D last I knew for sure… but that was probably wrong too as her bras would barely contain the mounds of brown flesh she would try to squeeze into them. They jiggled enticingly as she struggled to get the bucket to the floor without sloshing too much more water. After she sat the bucket on the floor she stood and placed her hands on the small of her back and stretched backwards to work out whatever kink was in the small of her back.
As she stood there, looking tired and determined, with her breasts straining that wife beater, and nipples so large and tight, looking as if to break thru the fabric, I just couldn’t stand not touching her.
I sat there watching her tits beacon me, fighting my anger at her so that I could taste those nipples and roll them across my tongue. I was angry because I had violated our vows and she never spoke of it. She even returned the next day and acted as if nothing had happened. Except she’d had that horrible blank look she wore 90% of the time now. I started out not having sex with her because she and I had agreed that we would never use sex to cover over a problem, that we would only have sex once the problem was thoroughly talked out and set right. Eventually, as I became angry that she refused to discuss our problem and give me the chance to ask for and receive forgiveness, I began with holding sex to get back at her. She would ask and I would refuse, now out of habit more than anger. But it was hard to refuse her… and I didn’t want to anymore.
I stood and crossed the kitchen to her. As I pulled her into my arms, she gasped and tried to push me away. She struggled, but it was futile. At 6 foot 4 inches, I towered over her by a foot, and had the leverage to hold her to me while I folded her arms behind her back and held them in place with one hand. She struggled against me and tried to wrestle herself away from me, but I had her pinned against me… we both knew it.
While she struggled, I forcefully pulled up her wife beater, marveling how the breast “popped” out of the bottom. While I was mesmerized by the way her breast bobbled after its sudden release she managed to free an arm and slap me across the face, twice (Jesus, she’s quick) before I was able to capture the offending hand. I pushed her back up against the refrigerator and brought both her hands above her head and shoved a knee between her thighs and jammed it tight up against her sex, lifter her a bit from the floor and causing any movement she made to rub her clit, hoping it would keep her relatively still. I bent my head and captured a nipple in my mouth holding the breast in my free hand. At first she squirmed more, but quickly realized that this only made her clit rub harder onto my thigh. She got another hand lose and repeatedly slapped my face and head. Annoyed I took my hand from her breast and grabbed her by her throat. Her hand immediately went to fight my hand from her throat. I released her other hand and that hand went to my hand holding her by the throat as well. She kicked her feet and connected with my knee and threatened to cause it to bend the wrong way.
Pain flared up my thigh and I spun her around and dropped her to the floor. The floor was still wet and slick and she continued to flail her legs about which caused us to slide across the floor a bit. I wedge my knee up between her thighs again as squeezed slightly on her throat to show her who was in control. Ha, control… I was losing it and fast. Not to her, but to the lust that had built up inside me over the last several weeks. Flashes of her blazed thru my mind. Images of her stepping out of the shower as I was shaving, images of her climbing into bed wearing nothing but a skimpy dorm shirt, images of the day I caught her doing housework dressed only in one of my old dress shirts. I was slowly losing hold on my sanity.
My dick was dying for a taste of what I had denied myself for so long. I moved my knee and slipped my fingers in and around the crotch of her shorts (God! She is always so wet down there) and pulled them down as I moved my knee. She wasn’t kicking as much now, much to my relief. I managed to get her shorts down past her knees and then nudged her knees apart. I looked at her face and realized the reason she hadn’t been kicking much was that I had been applying a little more pressure to her throat than I thought. Her eyes were bulging a little and she was unable to breathe. I released my grip on her throat and she immediately gasped and began to cough as she tried to turn to her side. I knew I should stop right then, but instead I took advantage of her distraction and used my foot to push her shorts down to her ankles and climb between her legs. I reached in my gym shorts and pulled my dick free.
Just as I positioned the head of my dick against the opening of her dripping snatch, WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, she hit me three times in rapid succession across the face. A left, then a right then another left. (Jesus she’s quick) I smacked her across the face and then grabbed her hands and placed them above her head and then rammed my dick deep in her pussy.
Just like always, she moaned real loud and arched her back letting me know I had hit that spot she loves for me to grind on.
She opened her eyes and looked at me. She had tears in her eyes…
I jerked awake from my daydream to see her changing the bucket of water for the second time and slosh water on her tits trying to get the bucket out of the deep sink. I immediately got up and left the kitchen and went into the computer room. I needed to jerk off real bad and was going to need some HEALTHY porn to get my mind off the sick and twisted things I was thinking… who am I becoming??
At any rate, when she gets like this, she cleans for hours. I had time to rub one out real quick.
I changed the water twice and kept scrubbing the floor until you could eat off of it. My hands were red and sore from the scalding water I used. I dumped the last pail of water and put the mop and bucket back in the corner and turned expecting to see him still reading his paper, but he was gone. I wonder when he left? I didn’t even notice him leave.
I shrugged it off and headed to the computer room. He was coming out as I was walking in and we almost collided.
“Sorry,” we mumbled simultaneously and proceeded to continue on our way to our separate destinations. I sat at the desk and opened my email account. While I waited for it to load, I sat my elbows on the table and rubbed my temples between my fingers. Why was it that I no longer knew my husband?
Outlook said I had 124 messages to download and it was currently somewhere around 23 or 24. I looked down at my shirt and knew I needed to change it as you could see right through it. My nipples were straining against the fabric of my shirt. One was still a little sore from last night and that almost brought a smile to my lips. I considered finding that business card and giving Mr. “Attorney At Law” a call. Or at least send him an email.
Oh my God! I need to stop thinking about that. Why did I do that? Why? I’m a married woman who loves her husband. We are having problems right now and even though I am not sure what they are or why we are having them I know we will work them out. So why did I jeopardize everything last night? Why am I considering doing it now? What is it that keeps nagging at the back of my mind trying to make me remember something I obviously don’t really want to remember?? What am I doing? Who the fuck am I?