I Strayed, But It was So Good

Probably I should start by introducing myself. I’m Catherine, Cat for short. My life is nothing extraordinary, nor am I. Just an average sun deprived English girl, engaged to a guy, hoping to one day have some sprogs and a dog together. Living in South England with Mick, my fiance of Meditterenean origin, we have been doing great, all things concerned.

Hence why it was hard dropping off Mick at the airport. I loved that man, we had spent some of my best moments in life together, in the 3 years we’ve been together. Now, he was off to an assignment in Germany, meant to last for 5 months. It would be the longest we’ve ever been separated since our first date.

He wasn’t just my man, but also my best friend. Whether we were chilling in the garden chatting away, or riding his hot body in the bedroom, there was always a good time to be had. We spent the night before in bed, both doing our best to please each other. However, I found it impossible to orgasm, since I was so stressed about him going away for so long. It wasn’t that he didn’t try; he employed his mouth, fingers and sizable dick in an effort to get me off, but in the end I just focused on him, then fell asleep in each other’s arms.

One could rightly say that England and Germany are only a short plane flight afar and they would be right. However, my fiance was working for a defence subcontractor, which meant that he had to live within the facilities of an isolated compound in Bavaria, with no visitors allowed. The closest civilisation was a village 45 minutes away, with a small population of farmers and no airports or train stations nearby. Apparently, my fiance’s company was outfitting some buildings, allegedly used for electronic warfare. That’s all he could tell me. It was supposed to be so secure, that for external comms they were only allowed to use monitored phones with no encrypted messaging. In practice, all he could do in terms of communicating with the outside world that wasn’t work related, were text messages through the compound’s systems. The notion of even having a mutual masturbation session over video was out of the question, so was any form of sexting, apart from sms which would be read by others, or maybe a call now and then, but it would also be monitored and delayed.

In order to keep myself busy, I devoted more hours to work, catching up with friends and visiting the gym. Though I’d cycle pretty much everywhere, I still felt that the variety afforded by a gym would stave off boredom, get me more fit and work out some of my frustration. At least I had a plan in place, I suppose.

The first couple of weeks went by, managing to squeeze in a couple of brief calls with Mick. It wasn’t until I heard his voice that I realised how much I was going to miss him. I mentioned how much I lusted for him and he confirmed that he felt the same. We both knew we’d have to help ourselves at the end, urged both by the lack of sex and each other’s urging to do so. Slowly, over time, we became more daring and more desperate, with our texts getting more and more obscene.

By the end of month 1, my collection of toys was starting to see a lot more action. I now regarded my trusted bullet vibrator and dildos as dear as my girlfriends. Originally, I’d use a dildo while daydreaming about Mick, but over time my imagination started running wild. Every time I tried to bring in a new fantasy, or rework one of my favourites. The way I played with myself and used my toys was becoming a lot more intense, often experimenting with new positions and movements. All sessions culminated with my hand rubbing my sensitive clit, which was the only way I could achieve an orgasm. Reaching 30 without experiencing a vaginal orgasm, with various partners and toys, had convinced me that it was a pipe dream.

Apart from wearing down my toys, I had also made progress at the gym. I’ve managed to get myself up in the mornings regularly, then heading to the gym up to 5 times a week. I could feel that my ass was getting a workout, even though it still retained it’s thick status.

Growing up, I had quite the issue with accepting my body, when only the petite, slim girls with a massive rack would be considered attractive. Over the years, I’ve learned how to take care of myself, how to dress for my body and how to accept who I was. Leaving high school for Uni, then working in London showed me that there are a lot of men out there who’d lust after my type. If you asked me now, if I could change my entire body, I’d still cling on to my b cups, slim waist and chunky butt.

Classes like today’s “Squats, butts and abs” only helped with sculpting and enhancing my natural form. Step machines and yoga were also becoming daily favourites, helping getting some flexibility back from sitting day long in an office. Being in the gym often and on my own also meant that guys were becoming bolder in approaching me. I was by no means the gym goddess; some of the girls there looked ready for a magazine photoshoot. But it was undeniable that some of the guys were taking an interest in me and few of them would chat me up. Not going to lie, it felt nice getting complimented and knowing that I still had it. Especially since some of them were hot as hell. Fortunately, none of them were pushy or annoying.

Combining my ever growing fantasy collection and the frequent flirting by gym goers, it was a matter of time until the two combined. I felt bad at first, replacing my fiance in my fantasies, but mixing it up felt liberating and refreshing. One evening, I’d be riding my large 8 inch dildo, pretending it was the dick of a massive bodybuilder, who chatted me up earlier that day. During the next session, I’d use my smaller dildo and my vibrator, visualising another gym fitty slowly fucking me while rubbing my clit.

One Friday evening, after having a few drinks with my girls, I drunkenly cycled my way back. The warm and humid weather had my thick thighs sweating under my summer dress. It didn’t help that we’ve been talking sex, which got me all worked up. Liz had confined how she took on two guys while at uni, something none of us had known of until now. It gave me an idea though for that evening’s entertainment.

I didn’t miss the opportunity to let my fiance know that I’d be giving my attention to two hard cocks tonight. Our texts became more and more brazen over time. I started joking about my dildos taking my fiance’s place and by now, I was referring to them as impersonal dicks at my service, keeping me satiated and well fucked in my man’s absence. He’d often reply, calling me an insatiable filthy slut, that he can’t wait to give me a good fucking. If those messages were read by a person instead of an AI, we stopped caring. He was probably asleep this time and I received no reply. It would be just the three of us, I thought.

It took me some time to get it right. I kept my dress on, bunched around my waist. They’d fuck me in our one bedroom flat’s lounge, not bothering to get me fully naked. My two suction cup dildos were stuck on the side of our sturdy coffee table and I was lubing them up lovingly, as if I was trying to get them harder.

My largest dildo, a thick, veiny 8 incher would have the duty of spreading my pussy, while the tamer 6 incher would take on sliding into my ass. Mick had pulled off double penetrating me a couple of times – me using his hefty cock and a dildo. I never felt more overwhelmed or fulfilled sexually than those times. I still had to get me off by touching myself, but I’d be a liar if I said that it wasn’t one of the best fuckings he ever gave me. Overall, I’d say that I’d love getting a dick in my mouth, pussy or ass equally, under the right circumstances.

The two dildos were now stacked and lubed up. The soft carpet was a blessing for my knees, as I was kneeling and guiding them inside me. The 8 incher was the hardest to get in, it’s wide head forced me to spread so much, which I doubt I could manage if I wasn’t so horny. The other dildo slipped inside my ass effortlessly, the thin barrier pinched between the two dildos. I gently rolled my hips, then worked myself up into a frenzy. Closing my eyes, I thought of Mick ravaging my ass, while my tight pussy was spread wide by one of my gym admirers. I was being such a slut this time, taking on two men at once. It was so good that was cursing at my two lovers, urging them to fuck me harder, as I slammed my horny body against them. Face down, with a hand finding my clit, I was moaning and sighing. Soon, I was cumming and shaking on the two hard members, screaming as I tipped myself over the edge.I don’t know how long it took me to catch my breath and slide off them, but I remember barely having the strength to walk to our bedroom and fall into a deep sleep.

It was getting close to 2 months since I was left on my own. That day, I was up particularly eary and the gym was quieter than usual. I was trying to get a second pullup in, failing miserably. I was sweating profusely, thinking that I’m destined to have zero upper body strength for life, when he introduced himself. A tall, well built man approached me and I got ready to politely refuse his advance. Though I’ve seen him around before, we never talked until now. His name was Marquis and he was one of the personal trainers milling about the gym floor. He looked way younger than his 45 years. Later, he had to show me his ID to believe that he was not in his late 30s. His elastic white top was basically molded around his hard body, a striking contrast to his smooth black skin. Not going to lie, he looked fantastic

Marquis simply enquired about my fitness goals. Apparently he noticed that my exercise regime was all over the place and wanted to pitch me his services. A bit vain I admit, but I was surprised that he was doing a sales pitch and not hitting on me, like other guys did. He was charming though and did manage to slip in a compliment. Apparently I looked fine, but he could help me take my form to the next stage. To convince me, he offered a free 30 minute PT session and if I liked his coaching style, we could discuss a discounted package. Honestly, he was right, I didn’t really know anything about exercising with a programme, so I took on his offer. I hate to admit it, but I also accepted because he was a natural charmer, putting me at ease from the get go. The fact that he was hench and easy on the eyes didn’t hurt either. The guy’s tasty spandex clad ass brought the word “stallion” to mind.

We spent the next 30 minutes together, testing my strength and putting together a plan of action. We got to get to know each other, too. Apparently he grew up in a poor, violent environment, then started dealing, before landing in prison. Getting out he devoted himself to self improvement and helping others through coaching. As for his services, the total package included twice a week 45 minute sessions, for a couple of months. Price wise, it was a bargain, compared to the usual rates of other PTs in London. Maybe I was sold the plan before I even knew it existed, but I felt no hesitation in signing up for his services.

One of the recommendations was to forget the scales and use before/after progress photos. At the start of each week, I was meant to take a full body photo in front of the mirror, always in the same clothes, same pose. I should wear something that was form fitting but not tight enough to hide or move things around. When I asked if I should be sharing those photos with him, he laughed and said that it wasn’t required, but it would be good to have. He then added “In more ways than one”. Under his natural charm was a hint of flirtation. I wondered how many times he’d used that line, but it didn’t matter, my mind was made up.

The night before our first session, I spent too much time thinking of what to wear for my progress photos. Going naked would be the best yardstick, but I couldn’t conceive sending nude photos to another man. Yet there was some excitement about showing off myself to someone else, even under the guise of carrying out a professional service. I settled into wearing a two piece bikini. I already had photos in that swimsuit on social media, so I wasn’t doing anything inappropriate, I rationalised.

The top was simply two triangular patches held together by strings, doing a decent job of keeping my tits in place, but kept most of my shoulders and back exposed. The bottom was more interesting; A high waist thong, which I only put on in public after Mick’s insistence. My asscheeks felt so free and exposed when I was walking down the beach and I was so conscious of wearing it. It also felt liberating and sexy as fuck, evident by the lust in my fiance’s eyes. Granted, the photos I posted publicly were from the front only, where the progress photos should cover front, side and rear. I managed to get some decent shots, then nervously sent them to Marquis, noting “I’m ready for tomorrow.”

The answer was swift: “You are a fine woman, but with me you will get super fine.”

The next couple of weeks were brutal, but I learned so much. I texted my fiance telling him that he might feel something different next time he gets his hands on me and I wasn’t lying. I could tell that I was making more progress under Marquis’s guidance, than on my own. Two more times I sent him progress photos and our chatting was getting more frequent over time. I noticed that we’d veer off talking only about workouts, with a bit of covert flirting thrown at me. Unashamedly, I reciprocated.

Week three of working with my PT and I was comfortable with him touching me while being spotted. He’d place hands on me depending on the spotting or correction required. It felt electrifying and I wasn’t sure if it was because I found him attractive, or because I hadn’t touched a man for more than 2 months. He was hard and demanding on me, yet also charming and ever increasingly a flirt. As our relationship progressed, I got the feeling that I had to meet his expectations, both as a client and as a woman. I had to progress and prove him right that I looked better than before. It was me putting on a show and demonstrating that I was a good girl, that somehow I needed his validation. According to a therapist I was seeing when a teenager, this behaviour was the result of my parents’ divorce and growing up without a father. I was looking forward to sending my photos and hearing back from him. At the gym, I’d always work hard, while not missing an opportunity to bend or squat in front of him.

My girlfriends and coworkers all commented that I was visibly in better shape than before. Honestly, I felt proud of myself. Even though I advocate for people to love themselves, there is a sense of accomplishment when you look and feel more fit. I’ve even noticed that more guys would approach me at the gym or when out and about. At the gym, they’d keep their distance while training with Marquis. Maybe it was some jungle alpha male thing men had. All of these made me think I was doing the right thing for me, and by extension, my fiance. I was getting fitter and healthier, so we both could have good times together, right?

One morning, Marquis was spotting me benching, him standing over my head as I pushed the barbell. He has been cheeky and was probably wearing no undies, as his thick cock was outlined, running down his inner thigh. He always had a respectable bulge, but it was never this clear before. I wondered if wearing my thinner yoga pants would yield the same results, if not wearing panties. It was hard to not stare, even when my arms were shaking with fatigue. We’d end the sessions with some stretching and he’d help. He was pressing down on my feet while in the happy baby pose. All I could think was, how perfectly placed I was for him, just drop your knees stud and you will plummet your thick meat inside me. Your balls will smack my tight asshole and your cock will drive straight for my womb.

Fuck, when did I start fantasizing fucking other men in day time? Sure, I fantasised about them when masturbating at home, but never daydreamed of a guy fucking me while he was with me. With his hands on me, his strong muscular arms, connected to that hot body that simply wouldn’t quit, as he pounded my wet pussy… Dammit, focus, Cat!

I had to excuse myself that I was running late for an early meeting, then rushed to shower and go to work. My panties were soaked and it wasn’t just the sweat. That day was the longest ever, feeling hot and anxious, unable to focus on anything. Early afternoon I called quits, told my manager I felt like having a temperature and left. Reaching the flat, I started rushing out of my clothes, before the door even closed shut. I almost tripped and fell as I was peeling off my trousers, making for the bedroom. Mr 8 incher was brought out of his box and he was soon plunged inside me, getting creamed. Lifting and spreading my legs, I went harder and deeper, crying out for him to fuck me. Almost the entire dildo went inside, not a small feat, and I started squeezing it with my pussy. My other hand found my clit and I started working myself to one of my strongest orgasms ever.

“Oh Marquis, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me oh ahhh!” I screamed and felt my entire pussy spasming like crazy, the dildo pushing against my cervix. I kept working the head of the dildo in and out of me slowly, until the aftershocks of my orgasm subsided. In a moment of clarity, I realised that Marquis had become the only man in my masturbation sessions, outshining everyone else, even my fiance. That can’t be good, I thought. Even worse, it felt too good to give up.

The next day, at the office, I was occupied with how I should focus on channeling my thoughts to Mick. I quickly sent him a text, asking how my favourite man and penis were doing and if he was getting any action at the compound. A couple of hours passed until he replied; My fiance explained that he was told off for us spamming their filters with our smut. Apparently this was misuse of company property and a violation, so he was asked to keep it clear or be removed. Although I longed to be with him again, we both knew this was an important piece of work and he couldn’t simply walk away. Essentially, any sexy talk with my fiance was out of bounds. My brain quickly rationalised that fantasising of and flirting with Marquis was simply making up for lost time with Mick, so it was healthy. Like, what was I supposed to do, rewire my brain and become a nun? Yes, fat chance of that happening.

Couple of days later and we were having another gruelling training session. My sports bra and high waisted compression shorts were drenched with sweat, as Marquis had me sprinting and jumping around like crazy. The last bit included pullups and pushups. The push ups were first, with me on shaky hands, trying to stay level. I was about to drop to my knees, when Marquis placed one hand under my waist, only barely missing my mount and helped me go upwards and finish the pushups. The push ups were even worse. I could do up to 4 now, but he demanded 10 from me. I did 3 and was about to quit, when he firmly held me by the hips and pushed me upwards. I kept going until I gave him his 10 pullups, his hands on me all the time. His thumbs settled under my cushy mounts, squeezing my butt. It felt like he was putting no effort in lifting me, though at 5’7 and with my build, I wasn’t exactly a lightweight. That man was strong and I was impressed.

He gave me a high five and praised me for my hard work. I replied that if it wasn’t for him I’d literally be doing fuck all. He laughed and said that all he was giving me was a little nudge, I was doing the work.

“I wonder what would happen if you gave me more than a nudge, then.”

His reaction was to gently laugh, then reminded me to send over “his progress pics”. He had a busy day with clients, but he was looking forward to seeing them tonight, he was planning on “studying them hard”.

Later in the evening, I was again propping up my phone for my progress photos. By now, I had settled on how to take those photos, while bringing all of my lines and curves to light. Once I was satisfied, I sent them over to Marquis.

Cat: “your photos sir, make sure you “study” hard enough.”

Marquis: “lol, studying is always hard when you send me your photos”

Did he just tell me he gets hard looking at me? Shit, he meant his cock, right?

Cat: “I never thought you’d be getting hard from progress photos”

Marquis: “hm, you mean study hard?”

Shit, was I too direct? Did I misinterpret everything? Was he just supremely extroverted and friendly? Am I coming off as desperate?

Cat: “oh, sorry. I wouldn’t mind if you did either”

Marquis: “What photos should I be using to get hard, then?”

I held my breath reading that message. Shit, he was interested. He just asked me to show off for him and get him hard. This was no professional request or me thinking stuff while masturbating. This was me talking about sexy photos and hard dicks with a man other than my fiance. My breathing was hard and my pulse was racing. This is where you draw the line, you daft child, I told myself. Then I looked at the mirror and I saw it: Myself, blushing and biting my lip, gently rubbing over my bottoms, about to be a total slut for that man’s erection.

With my top removed, I laid prone on the bed. Holding the phone up, I took a selfie smiling, with my naked back and thong separated ass cheeks in the frame. Shaking with adrenaline, I press send. It was done.

Seconds later, my phone vibrated.

Marquis: “I think it is working. Do not continue or else I might end up hard.”

The bed was flanked with a large mirror wardrobe. Full of excitement, I got up and pulled up my thong, then snapped a full frontal selfie. My ass was reflected in the mirror, the thong splitting it and letting my round cheeks uncovered. I had an arm across my chest, covering a tit while squeezing the other. Intentionally, I let my dark brown nipple protrude between my fingers. It was not lost on me that one of the fingers squeezing the nipple had my engagement ring on it.

Cat: “Are you saying that I shouldn’t be sending this?” to which I attached the photo.

Marquis: “Damn it girl, you really are trying to get the old man going.”

Cat: “I thought you were already going? Am I not doing it well enough?”

Marquis: “You be the judge.” A video was attached. 8 seconds long. I wish it was much longer, but it still gave me my answer. Marquis was facing a mirror, his imposing body naked. He was stroking a proud, massive erection, staring into the lens, telling me how Cat got him turned on with her fine booty and how he was going to work it hard.

I watched that video about 5 times before replying.

Cat: “I have no words.”

Marquis: “I prefer showing to telling.”

Fuck, this was escallating quickly. I should be stopping this. Instead, I settled my phone down and started filming. With my back on the phone, I bent over and slowly pulled my bottoms down, then spread my ass with my hands, demonstrating how wet I was. Rising back up, I twisted my body and looked at the phone, bid my lip and gave my ass a hard smack. The video was sent without a second thought.

Marquis: “That ass was built for me.”

Cat: “What do you want to do with it?”

Marquis: “I think you know.”

Cat: “You are such a tease, it’s unfair.”

Marquis: “I could say the same about you. But it doesn’t have to be this way.”

Cat: “Show me the way and I will follow.”

Marquis: “Not working tomorrow but got a workout tomorrow morning. Join if you are eager for a hard workout. Session on me”

Cat: “Brunch on me, then?”

Marquis: “Sure, seeing you tomorrow then?”

I replied yes, instantly. Sunday was normally my rest or easy day, but fuck me if I was going to wait much longer. It was as if I needed to be close to him, smell him, feel his hands on me. As if I didn’t have a fiance locked in a military base in the German sticks.

His reply was simply a smiley and confirming he will be seeing me at the gym. He sure was keeping it cool, wasn’t he? It was obvious that he had the goods to back up his confidence and charming ways. And there was me swallowing it all, hook and line, like a sex crazed teenager. Sexting should be for Mick only, but instead of guilt, all I felt was the urge to please and get the approval of my personal trainer. Needless to say that I was tempted to send him more throughout the night. I even filmed myself cumming for him. But I managed to resist the urge and pace myself.

To say that I was looking forward to Sunday was an understatement. Getting up in the morning, I made sure my pussy was smooth, all pubic hair shaved off. I wasn’t sure why I bothered, but it felt naughty so I went with it. My choice for gym wear was my sports bra that showed the most flesh, accompanied by the flimsiest yoga pants I owned, sans panties. Mick told me in the past how my panties were visible in those, when they got stretched. I never asked him to check what it would look like without panties, but I was about to find out. At the front, they gave me a cameltoe, as they outlined my lips. I remembered Marquis showing off his cock in his tights the other day. Now I’d be repaying the favour.

The weight of what I was about to do hit me. I’ve been showing naked pics of myself to another man and now I was about to go and mess with him in a gym. Then God knows what would happen after. Only weeks ago, it would be inconceivable of me to show off my self to others like that. This was simply not the usual behaviour of myself and definitely not what an engaged, self respecting 30 year old woman should be doing. Truth was, I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I knew I wanted to do it. I pinged a message to Mick saying hi, then left for the gym.

One of the benefits of living in a big city is convenience. The gym was just a 5 minute walk away, which helped with getting in the habit of going there. It also spared me the joy of parading my almost naked pussy across the city. I was already nervous from doing so in a gym with lots of familiar faces, so I was happy to just get it done.

Marquis was already there and had already gone through a few machines. He did mention living not that far off, maybe a 15 minute cycle. Or was it a 15 minute drive? Anyway, I was greeted with a hug, something that developed into a habit not long since our first session, then got directed to a squat rack. We bantered for a bit, while I was warming up. Addressing our late night exchange, I asked how his study went. He laughed and said that the outcome was clear: I was making progress and we should keep it going.

“You mean the training, or sending nudes?” I asked.

“Everything, that body of yours is looking tastier by the week, it would be a shame to let go of it.”

“Fair enough. What did you end up doing with your cock, by the way?”

“A lady never asks and a gentleman never says.”

“I forgot, you like showing, not telling?”

“Indeed. I guess you like showing too, coming in here dressed like that.”

“Sorry, is it against the gym’s policy? Should I leave then?” I said, pretending to be shocked.

He laughed – damn he was so handsome – and told me to get some weights on the barbell. I did as told, then started my first set under his watchful eye. It was driving me crazy on how he could switch from a flirt to a professional in a pinch. I knew he was staring at my ass, yet he casually commented on and corrected how I placed my feet, or how my knees went the wrong way. I was getting in the zone too, focusing on lifting the damn weights. Last set was on, final reps. The burn was real. It was only then that he got really close, his hands on my sides, ready to help. My ass shot backwards, grazing over his shorts. Maybe it was my imagination but I thought I felt his semi. Last rep, he had to intervene, helping me rack up the steel bar. His hands briefly closed on my tits and gave them a squeeze. It was only a moment but they got diamond hard, poking against the stretchy bra.

The day also included romanian deadlifts, which I kind of hated. I knew though that he was making me do them so I would be bending over and show my lips. Marquis was quite the cheeky one, I guess. My only worry was that all other guys in the weights area would probably have a look at my pussy. The excitement of being naughty overcame my concerns and soon Marquis and co had a very clear image of what my pussy looked like.

He told me to do the exercise with a low load and take my time with each rep. I was confident that not only he wanted to look at me, but also make sure others would get their fill of me. Was it his way of challenging me and my limits, or was he trying to tell everyone that I would do his bidding and was his? Or was he simply trying to give me a good workout?

After almost an hour, we were done and headed to the stretching area. Like every time, shoes were off and I’d be rolling through the various poses as instructed. Starting with the child’s pose, he gently pushed my head down with one hand, then his other pressed on my buttocks. I felt peaceful and surrendered my body, focusing on my breath. Then his fingers circled and pressed against my pussy, sending shivers across my body.

“Stay down, relax.”

His grip and tone were assertive and I simply obeyed. I wondered if someone was watching Marquis feeling my wetness through the flimsy fabric. We then went through the classics, upward dog, downward dog, cobra etc, all with him touching me somewhere, feeling me up.

“Ok, let’s do your hamstrings, they did a lot of work today, then you are good to go.”

He helped me on my back, then I lifted one leg as high as I could. He got hold of it and straddled my other leg, sitting down close, very close. Marquis was pretty much hugging my raised leg while touching crotches. With his hardening bulge slowly grinding against my wet pussy and my hamstring getting stretched, I couldn’t stop myself from letting go a deep sigh. We could be in Trafalgar Square for all I knew and I would still lose myself in the moment. The other leg followed, until I was happy that he gave me a good stretch.

To say that he had me all worked up was an understatement. All I could think of was running back home and making myself cum. No, that would be stupid. Better take him home and experience the real thing…

I wasn’t thinking straight, I knew that much. But my feelings were not governed by reason. The lust and excitement I felt were deeply primal, I didn’t want to love this man, I wanted to get taken and get fucked.

Marquis probably knew what was going through my mind. He had a lot more experience in life and I suspect he must have had a fair amount of conquests throughout his gym career. To his credit, his confidence never translated into being pushy. Maybe this was a game for him and he was good at playing it.

“Good stuff, should we have a shower and then grab a bite?”

“Why not have a shower at mine? It’s literally a stone’s throw away. I will order some food, repay you for the free session.”

“You lead and I will follow.”

We were soon at my flat, sorry, myself and my fiance’s rented flat. A text message from him almost made me get back to my senses and kick Marquis out. It was a simple message saying that he loved me and asking what was up to that day. Why did he have to be so nice? Why was he with me? Why wasn’t he with me right now? I simply texted that I got a good workout, ordering some takeaway and chill, then put my phone on silent and away.

Marquis was taking his time in the shower, while I placed an order for some thai food. 45 minutes estimated delivery? Argh, I was getting hungry. Maybe I should have a shake. Maybe you should have some hard cock, my brain added, frustratingly. The personal trainer walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, with half of his tall, sculpted body on display. His skin was glistening, letting off a sweet smell. I needed to know what moisturiser he used.

“Your turn.”

“Good, the food is coming in 40 minutes, get comfortable, it won’t take me long.”

“Not going anywhere, unless you want me to.”

“No, no, stay, I’ll be back with you in 5.”

“I will be counting.”

I dashed into the shower and turned it on full blast. I made sure that everything was soaped and freshened up, and I mean everything. I toweled off and slipped on my bathrobe, then changed my mind and wrapped the towel around me. Then I rushed to the bedroom, giving my hair a quick blow drying, at least getting them to an acceptable level. When I was happy that I was dry enough, I dropped the towel, took a deep breath and walked to the lounge.

The muscle bound man had also ditched his towel and was lying on the sofa, slowly stroking his hard cock, making himself truly comfortable. I simply stood there, offering my nakedness to him, not knowing what to do next, other than staring at his impressive manhood. Mick wasn’t small when it came to his tool, he was something close to 7 inches. Marquis though was a class above him, at least as long as my large 8 inch dildo, definitely thicker.

“Now you see what I did with this hard cock. Happy?”

“Not yet.”

“Hm, I need some fresh photos, since you are here.”

“Is that for you to study?”

“No, it’s to get my cock hard when away from your sexy body.”

Marquis had me pose for him for a couple of minutes, from squeezing my breasts, to fingering myself. He could simply fuck me, but he was saviouring having absolute control over me. And I was getting wetter with each passing second.

“I need to get close to you…”

“Then get that fine ass over here. You know what to do.”

He placed his phone on the coffee table, recording himself and soon, myself. If I was acting on reason, I’d ask for him to turn off his phone. If I was acting on reason, I wouldn’t be bringing another man to fuck me while my fiance was away, or spending my evening sending him nudes and masturbating to him.

My hand found his uncut black dick and stroked it with reverence, while I locked myself into a deep kiss with him. At that moment, my body had two mandates: to give pleasure to this man and to get fucked and bred. I don’t why that popped up, to be bred, I was on the pill anyway. Maybe it was the purest and most ancient drive for wanting sex. Maybe it was in some porn flick or story and got seared in my brain. It didn’t matter, I was his for the taking.

I kissed and licked at his neck, then down to his hard nipples, followed the lines of his abs, before descenting on my knees and getting his cock in my mouth. I measured him up with my hands, managing to stack up three hands before reaching his fat knob. That was a hand more than my fiance and my fiance was big enough. Or so I thought. I was about to find out anyway.

I was literally worshiping him, doing my best with my fingers and mouth to show him a good time. Not ashamed to admit that I even licked his ass, something I reluctantly did with other men in the past, if ever. He let me kiss and suck on the hefty testicles, taste every bit of his towering cock, before double handling it and slurping on the precum oozing head. Fuck I was going crazy for him, my pussy feeling like it was dripping, simply from sucking him.

He had to see how much I wanted him. I straddled his lap and started sliding up and down the underside of his cock, trapping it between my pussy and his abs.

We kissed again, this time his turn to explore my body. He looked hungry, sucking and biting my nipples until I yelped, marking my tits with bite marks. My pussy kept teasing him, working his dick, getting the head to push and rub against my sensitive clit.

He got hold of my asscheeks, kneading them, pulling them apart, slapping them. I could tell he was an ass man. Good, we both were getting what we needed. His hands lifted me up, trying to get me over his dick.

“Not yet baby” I moaned.

Holding his cock, I started working my pussy lips with it, barely entering me and pushing on my clit, which I was rubbing with the other hand. He understood that I was desperate to cum and he gave me room, instead of getting himself off in a quickie.

Marques kept playing with me, his rough, strong hands pulling me apart, his fingers crawling to my asshole and finding their way inside it. God, we were both so wet and I was so close.

“Fuck baby I’m going to cum for you, cum for your monster cock.”

“Is that what happened yesterday?”

“Yes baby, I came watching your video…”

“Are you hungry for my cock?”

“Yea, so much.”

“Are you a whore for my black cock? Huh? Show me how much you want my cock, whore.”

“Oh fuck, I am cumminohhhhhh!” I cried as I finally orgasmed in the hands of a real man again.

Without further delay I slid his knob inside me then sat down hard, taking most of his cock crying once more in pain and ecstasy.

“Fuck me, breed my pussy.” I begged.

With little effort he got on his feet, my legs resting over his arms, fingers digging in my plump asscheeks. He let me sink deep aNd hard on his cock and I thought I was getting impaled, then started fucking me hard and fast. No man ever did this to me and only now I realised how much it was missing from my life.

The sensation of his cock working hard and fast inside me somehow amplified the post orgasmic bliss and overwhelmed me. The flat was filled with the sound of me being fucked and screaming as I was experiencing a vaginal orgasm, my first ever. I was crying, lost for words and shaking in his hands, as he put me down on my back and started giving me the most deep and forceful fucking I ever received. My body went limp and all I could do was dig my nails in his back, as a multiple orgasm ripped through me, until he finally pumped copious streams of cum in my used pussy.

He laid on top of me for some time, his cock still pulsing, fucking me slowly until he shrunk and slid out. I tried talking but I broke into nervous laughter instead, not believing what I had just experienced.

The takeaway arrived a few minutes after. Marquis firmly prevented me from wrapping myself in a towel, or getting dressed. Maybe some power play, but he said that when around him I’d be his whore all the way, or I couldn’t have him again. There was no time to debate that and I dreaded missing out on him.Long story short, the delivery man was greeted by a naked woman, with disheveled blonde hair, bite marks on her body and what was definitely cum running down her thighs.

I forced myself to smile at him, feeling utterly exposed and humiliated. It also felt incredibly arousing, the idea that I was another man’s whore, with little control or responsibility. One could say that fully submitting to this powerful male absolved me from the sin of cheating. As if I couldn’t be responsible for being a slut, if someone else decided for me. All I can say, he was just too good and I wanted more.

Following lunch, which was delicious, I succumbed to him once more. This time was different. First, he fucked me in our bed. Second, he went all out. I spent about half an hour, looking at myself in the mirror, on hands and knees. He started by spreading me and tasting me, but seconds after he was pounding me as hard as he could, only taking breaks here and there to tease. I was fucked and spanked mercilessly by Marquis, given no quarters. My knuckles went white, gripping and biting the bedsheets to stop me from howling. My buttocks were burning, handprints all over, shaking as he made me his bitch.

It was beyond anything I ever experienced before. In a day, he’d given me a better fuck than what I had received in decades. His thick thumb was inside my anus, pushing against his hard cock, his other hand violently yanking my head backwards by my hair.

“Scream for me, whore.”