Trish – Married Slut

CHAPTER 1: JEROME

If I hadn’t been loosened by too many drinks, this might have hurt even more than it initially did. But… GOD DAMN… does it feel like my pussy is in heaven now!

It all happened without intention. I was merely out for the night with a group of the girls from work. A Friday night to unwind from the mediocre jobs we shared at Mortenson Manufacturing. It wasn’t the first time we’d done this… not by far. The fact was I usually joined them only because Stan, my husband of six years, wouldn’t be interested in doing anything remotely fun to end the week and start a weekend that might promise something fun and interesting. So, I was out with the girls, all meeting at a pre-arranged location that varied usually by some recommendation one of us heard of. This time it was a more upscale club with pricier drinks but really good music, lots of guys and dancing.

Our normal Friday night of drinks and laments was changed, at least for me. I had lost track of the other girls as I was invited onto the dance floor repeatedly. It had put my life into a strange new perspective and awareness. How could six years of marriage have so quickly become routine and mundane? How could the man who I agreed to marry have become so uninterested and inspired? How could the man I had loved have turned so lacking in attention and support?

It was undoubtedly an unfair comparison. These men had no commitment to me, no responsibility… or I to them. Their flirtation and attention were as intoxicating for my heart as the liquor was to my brain. I didn’t want to leave the attention of these men and quickly lost awareness of the girls to enjoy the company and attention I was receiving. By the time the girls were ready to leave, I had been dancing and enjoying the company of a particular man, an extraordinarily attractive and imposing man that even other men yielded to. That he was dark black, muscular, and exceedingly confident magnified all other impressions. When one of the girls approached me, he had pulled me in close to his side with his arm around my shoulders and whispered into my ear, “Don’t go… please. You are the sexiest, beautiful, fun woman I have met in a very long time. It isn’t that late… we can still have more fun.” The truth was, I was hooked with ‘don’t go’.

The girls left and I sat next to this man I didn’t know. I was married. What was I doing? It felt like a thing I needed… wanted. From a stranger? A very handsome, attractive, and thrilling stranger? I couldn’t explain it even to myself so I didn’t dwell on it. I just went with the feeling. Of course, the drinks helped.

We danced some more. The fast dances his eyes quickly moved to my breasts which moved some despite the marvels of engineering intended to constrain them. I’m aware of how much men like busty women and my DDD’s have brought a lot of attention since I was an early-blooming teen. I don’t know if I could say I was used to it, I was usually embarrassed and tried to not bring attention to them in my dress. But this man… God… he was so confident and I was so responsive.

During a slow dance, he parted us, looked down clearly at my breasts, and back up to my eyes. He was going to comment on my breasts… I could tell… and for once I wanted him to.

“You’re beautiful and sexy. You’re amazing. Everyone has been watching you.” I almost swooned as he pulled me in tight. I couldn’t help it. I looked to the side as we moved slowly. People were looking. At me? At him? At us? A strong, confident black man and a less confident white woman? “You feel so good in my arms.” I moaned. God, where did that come from? He’s only holding me and I respond like that? He parted us again, “Your breasts are amazing, too.” He looked intently into my eyes, “Am I being too personal, too forward? But they are… you are. I can’t seem to control it. I don’t want to control it. Someone like you deserves to know and feel how amazing and special you are.” My legs went weak so I pressed into him for support, to hide how this silly woman is reacting to the strength and certainty of this man. I felt his hard, muscled body under his shirt. I felt those breasts he likes so much press and squash into his body. At 5′ 6″ he is a full head taller than me. His arms around me hold me like a secure fortress of strength and protection, yet they feel caring and comfortable.

When we return to the booth, I am blushing profusely. I can feel my excitement as I walk, then sit in the booth with him sliding in tightly next to me. I don’t think I’ve felt this since… I don’t think I have EVER felt this.

“You’re blushing… was I too forward out there?” I shake my head. I don’t dare speak. I certainly can’t tell him that I’m not blushing by embarrassment but flushed by excitement. “Then… can I tell you something more?” OH GOD… I give him a slight nod but can’t look into his eyes. “You are beautiful and exciting. You moved like a sensuous cat when you let yourself, then became nervous and tight. Your entire being attracts attention but you try to hide it from us.” He leaned in, kissed my cheek so innocently, nuzzled my neck with his lips, and sent a shiver down my body. He whispered in my ear, “Hiding yourself… your beauty… your body… the female struggling inside you to get out… it’s like a crime against the rest of humanity…”

I shivered… visibly. I stammered, “I… I’m… I shouldn’t… I’m married…”

“I know. I saw the ring a long time ago. I initially looked past you because of it but you were dancing with so many different men and having fun that I became curious.” He held up my left hand, his fingers turning my wedding ring. “My name is Jerome, by the way.”

“Trish,” was all I dared to say as my heart pounded so hard inside me I was even thinking he might feel it through my fingers.

“Trish… a lovely name, too.” He continued with the ring. “So… did married Trish come here to tease poor, enrapture men?” I shook my head.

“NO… I…”

“Or, did Trish who happens to be married come here because there are things, feelings, needs she desires, even unconsciously, and doesn’t get satisfied?”

FUCK. You wanted to know what you were doing here, what you wanted here as you enjoyed dancing with all those men and more so when you stayed when the others left? He just told you. He saw into you with more clarity than you allowed yourself.

I pulled my hand slowly from his and looked up into his eyes. For a moment, everything else stopped… just our eyes connected, held, searching until… I moved that same hand up to the side of his face and with just that simple touch moved his head down to meet mine coming up to his. I kissed him. On the lips. My lips coming into electric contact with his large lips. I gasped at the touch, my breath passing between my lips onto his. A schoolgirl. A first-ever kiss. Not really, of course, but it was the same feeling that coursed through my lips and spread through my body. His hand came up to my face and our kiss became harder, more intense… then much more intense.

I was softly gasping and panting when we broke the kiss. I didn’t look around after kissing this man inside the club. It was just him and me. My eyes still locked on his.

“I want to dance with you, again. This time I want to dance with the Trish locked inside. But, first…” His fingers came up to my blouse… to the buttons. They hesitated at the top button at my throat. My head turned down and my eyes became riveted on the large fingers touching the button. He undid it. I sucked in a breath as his fingers moved down to the next button. I closed my eyes and made a slight nod. That one was undone, too. He undid the third one as I watched his eyes. I looked down to find my lace bra showing in the gap and clear cleavage of soft breast flesh. He leaned and softly kissed my lips. The next thing I knew we were sliding out of the booth.

There really wasn’t much difference as we danced. My chest was more visible but just barely. My breasts were still constrained by my industrial-strength bra. My skirt was the same length. But there was a difference. As if his request to dance with the Trish held inside was a call to come out to play, I did dance with new freedom and abandon. And, he responded to it. His hands slid over me as we moved. When a slow dance followed, he pulled me in tight and I accepted by pressing into him. His hand my butt giving soft pressure, I pressed my groin into his. I felt him inside his pants… his penis… his cock… pressing back at me. Was it hard or…

He whispered in my ear, “What does Trish desire?”

I pressed against him, then raised my face to his and stepped up on my toes. I reached my arms around his neck and kissed his lips with a passion I hadn’t felt in… ever. With our lips softly against each other, “Trish desires you. I want you.”

“I feel like I should remind you… you ARE married…”

“I know that… and I want you.”

He smiled softly, took my hand, and led me off the dance floor. He tossed some cash on the booth table and took me outside. He marched me through some cars in the lot, pressed me up against an expensive looking sports car, and engulfed my mouth with his. His hand came up between us to fondle my breast through my clothes. I gasped, moaned, and nearly collapsed. Everything was so intense, so passion-filled, so lustful. He told me he was going to pull his car, the car I was pressed up against, to the lot exit. He jerked his head to his left as an indicator. He would wait for a few minutes for me. If I didn’t show, he wanted to thank me for the evening. If I did show, he wanted to thank me in a much better way if I would follow him.

I flashed my lights at him as I pulled up behind him. He pulled out on the boulevard and I followed. He led me through several turns until I could see a middle-grade hotel on the thru-way up ahead. He pulled in, came to my window as I parked next to him, and told me to stay put for a moment. In minutes he was back outside getting into his car. We parked in the lot in the back and took me up to the third floor. Before opening the door to the room, he paused and looked at me.

“God, yes! Yes, Jerome.”

He crossed the smallish room and tore the cover of the king bed down to the foot. I stood by suddenly frozen. I was really going to do this. I was. I could feel my panties soaked by my excitement and anticipation. I was frozen not by fear or regret. I was frozen because I suddenly realized how inexperienced I was. Life with Stan, my husband, has been so vanilla, so plain, so unimaginative.

He was kicking off his shoes and removing his shirt over his head when he stopped at seeing me standing there. “Trish… is something wrong? Is this wrong?”

I shook my head and stepped up to him. I put my hands on his broad, hard, black chest and sighed. I kissed his chest, then looked up at him. “No… not wrong. Just… I… I don’t really have much experience for this.”

“You’re married… surely…”

I chuckled, “Yes, of course… but… you’ve probably had lots of women… women who are very good in bed.”

His hands cupped my face. I looked into his eyes and saw softness and caring. “I’m not going to lie, Trish. I have a lot of women who come after me. And, yes, I have had a lot of women in bed.” He kissed my lips softly. “But I want this intensely, Trish. There is something about you. I can’t put my finger on it. Something, though, that arouses me. Besides, there is something special about taking someone to new experiences.” I smiled shyly. “Are you ready for some experiences, then?”

I started unbuttoning my blouse and he smiled. We watched each other as we undressed. Time was critical to me and he seemed to sense that. We moved quickly. I pulled off my blouse and shyly peeked at him as I reached behind to unclasp my substantial bra. I remembered his comments from before as I loosened it and slip the straps off my shoulders as I held the cup in place with one forearm. He had stopped undressing with his pants loosened and open in front. He watched as I lowered the cups from my breasts. He gasped. I watched. He finally looked up.

“I said they were magnificent, but…” He closed the space between us and bent over as his hands cupped them underneath and lifted them to his lips. He kissed each breast and sucked each nipple briefly.

He stepped back and pushed his pants down. I refocused on myself, unzipped my skirt, and was stepping out of it when… my world shifted, all my experiences (such as they were) meant nothing. Later, I would understand this was when the axis of my universe tilted. Not that I knew to the extent it would. At the moment, it was a shaking of my foundation of understanding, perceptive, and comprehension.

As his boxers dropped to the floor, a black hose was hanging between his legs. It was the first response my addled brain absurdly came up with. It couldn’t be a penis. All my experience said a penis was 5 or 6 inches long… fully erect. This… that… it was far longer than that and hanging limply between his legs. And thick.

He saw the hesitation in my eyes as I stood before him in just my panties. He stepped to me and wrapped his arms around me. He held me like that for a moment before one hand began sliding over my back. He pulled his head back and I looked up. I probably had a look of a stunned deer caught in headlights. I wasn’t prepared for anything like this. But I felt my breasts smashed against his hard body, my nipples hard and poking at him. I felt his… that… penis against my hip and leg. As he held me, I felt it move slightly. God… damn. He wasn’t moving… it was moving. I closed my eyes, absorbed in the feeling, still coming to grips with this. Ironically, I wasn’t still coming to grips with cheating on Stan. That wasn’t even in my mind. All that was in my mind was this moment, Jerome, and what he said about new experiences. Damn, this was new!

He put a finger under my chin and raised my face and kissed me on the lips. The first couple of kisses were again tender and soft and reassuring. The kisses grew more intense, passionate, and desperate. My hands slid up his sides. How can a man be so hard and muscled? No love-handles. No belly. I pressed against him, my belly against his, my breasts into his, my hips against his. My hands moved around his back and curled over his shoulders as I pulled myself even harder against him, into him. I groaned into his mouth. I shifted against him. His penis… that hose… moved, too. He kissed me hard, our mouths covering each other, breathing each other’s breath, tongues tangling, teeth clicking in contact. I pressed my crotch against his thigh. I rubbed myself, my pantie covered pussy pressing against his strong thigh. And… his penis… twitching… bigger… against me.

I broke panting, my eyes glazed as I looked down after parting us enough to see. It looked even bigger now! It wasn’t hard like Stan… standing upright. Maybe this was too big to do that. It was thicker and longer than before. My God… I looked up at him. Would it even fit? Would it hurt?

He seemed to understand. I probably wasn’t the first to react like that. “It will be okay, Trish. I will be gentle. Trust me?”

I nodded. What the hell, Trish? You don’t even know him. Do you trust him? But I did. I trusted this man I was cheating with. There was something more than just trust, though, something stronger, something possessing, something encompassing.

He moved me to the stripped bed. I crawled onto it with him following behind. I lay on my back, my legs tight together while still in my panties. He kissed my feet, then alternated on my legs up to my hips, then my stomach, again each breast, and finally my mouth. I felt his penis at my crotch and abdomen. I instinctively arch up to feel it more and moaned deeply. He pulled back, moved back, and pulled my panties down as his eyes held mine. My pussy had a thin covering of hair. Oral sex wasn’t a part of sex with Stan. Imagine my shock then when Jerome parted my legs and raised my knees before dipping his mouth to my now exposed pussy. I gasped as his tongue swiped over the length of my pussy and flicked at the covered clit. My fingers dug into the sheet as his tongue probed between the outer lips and easily parting the inner lips, a further indication of my readiness and desire having built up during the night. I stifled a cry with one hand as his lips encased my clit and he sucked on it. My hips rose as his mouth moved down and his tongue penetrated my hole.

My hands found his head and I gently tugged. I need him inside me. I had to feel him… it… inside me before I came. I didn’t often orgasm with Stan. Yet, here I was close to orgasm without a penis involved. I didn’t want it to end before I felt it. Little did I understand.

Jerome kissed his way back up my body with his penis sliding along my leg until his mouth encased mine and his penis butted against my pussy. I gasped into his mouth as my hips seemed to flex on their own to rub the head along my wetness. He shifted over me and I felt him take hold of it to move it along my wet slit until he found my hole. My breath was stuck in my throat as it stayed in place at the opening. There was a pulsing as my lips covered the head of his penis but I didn’t know if the pulsing was my pussy or his penis. He raised up on his hands, kissed my nipples, and gazed into my eyes. My mouth opened as he pressed slightly and I felt his penis opening me. He paused. I panted. He pressed a little more and I gasped and moaned. His penis opened me, stretched me. I gasped with each slight movement as he moved bit by bit, the width of his penis opening me further than it had ever been before. He pulled back slightly before pressing again. I groaned and shivered. My hands clutched my own breasts, mauling them, pinching my own nipples as he pressed more and it opened me more, seeming to stretch me with each micro-move.

I raised up and looked and dropped my head back to the bed. I felt stuffed with only a few inches inside me! He pulled back and pressed in. Over and over, again and again. I was moaning and groaning, gasping and panting. Then… he thrust harder. I felt his penis deep inside me, filling me, stretching me completely inside my body.

I came. I exploded, really. An orgasm like nothing in my experience could have prepared me for. I cried out loudly. I shook and shivered. My eyes opened wide and went dark as my eyes turned back until I forced myself to refocus. He wasn’t moving but my pussy was spasming around his penis, my stomach and leg muscles shaking.

He held himself still inside me as he leaned down to softly kiss me. “You came.”

Concern filled my eyes and face. I clutched at him and held him tight. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry… I wanted… I really wanted to… please you…”

He shifted his weight and kissed my lips still. “Why are you sorry? You orgasmed. Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that what this is all about?”

I clutched at him, again, my breath was still ragged. “Yes… yes… but… I wanted you to cum, too. I didn’t want it to end so quickly… I wanted…”

He chuckled and the action moved his penis inside me. And… and I felt the stimulation rise, again. “I intend to climax, Trish. And, you’ll orgasm, again.”

I looked up at him. It had never happened before. If… that is IF… I orgasmed it all, it was it. The end. Stan would be done and maybe I achieved it nearly the same time. But orgasm, again? Multiple times?

“We will?”

“Dear, Trish… there is so much you could experience and learn about sex that apparently isn’t part of your marriage bed.”

I blushed. My married pussy was stuffed with a near stranger’s black penis and we were discussing the potential of my learning about sex. I flex my pussy muscles and raised my hips against him, feeling his penis move inside me as a result. I blushed deeper for what I was about to say, to ask, to request of this near stranger inside me.