“What the hell’s wrong with you this morning?”
My husband had a face like a wet weekend. It seemed everything I did was wrong and virtually every word I said was ignored.
“You know what’s wrong,” he mumbled.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you, would I?”
“All right then, I’ll tell you… last night.”
I waited for the explanation but he clamped up, just stared at me. I exaggerated a sigh. “What about last night?”
“You were kissing him.”
“Bloody hell, Michael, is that it? For God’s sake, he was fucking me, you know. At your suggestion, no less.”
“I didn’t like you kissing him.”
“Michael…” I waved my hands in the air, “I’d just been fucked, well and truly fucked. I’d had a mind-blowing orgasm, and it was the most natural thing in the world to kiss him.”
“He was still inside you.”
“Yes, and I fucking loved having him there. It had been the most intense feeling I’d ever had.”
“Well, he’s not coming round here again.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really… you’re getting far too close to him.”
“Let me remind you, Michael of just whose idea this was in the first place.”
“I know, I know — and now I’m stopping it.”
“Like hell you are.”
“So you admit it, you want to see him again.”
“Yes, of course, I want to see him again. You know I do. What’s more, the next time you have a few drinks you’ll be telling me to ring him again, you know you will.”
“You’re just a fucking slut.”
“And who wanted me to be a fucking slut? You did. You told me to dance with him, you asked him to stay after the party, you told me to take my knickers off for him. And I wasn’t the one with the fucking camera, either. Remember?”
“Yeah, well it ain’t going to happen again. If you see him again I’ll divorce you.”
“You’d better get the papers drawn up then ‘cos I’m going to see him now.”
“I’ll change the locks while you’re out.”
“Go to hell.”
I grabbed my car keys.
~~~
“Where are you?” I asked Marcus on my phone.
“In the pub, baby. Why?”
“Stay there. And get me a large brandy, please.”
Fifteen minutes later I pulled up in the car park of the pub he owned. I walked in to find him sitting alone in a corner reading the morning paper.
“What the hell’s wrong?” he asked and then listened to my tale.
“Did he hit you?”
“No, but he was close to it, I think?”
“I’ll break his fucking neck if he ever lays a hand on you.”
“I don’t want to go back.”
“Okay, don’t. Move in with me instead.”
I downed my drink in one. “You’ve asked me that before.”
“I meant it… I still mean it.”
“Honestly?”
“Cross my heart. I’ve never wanted anything so much.”
I picked up my glass and walked to the bar, feeling him gazing at me. He always had an effect on me. I’d got wet just from sitting next to him and my nipples felt like pebbles under my t-shirt.
“Hi, Katie,” the barmaid said, smiling. “Large brandy?”
“Yes please, Wendy.” I returned the smile. She was a lovely girl, always friendly.
“Wendy, can I leave my car here?”
“Just tell Marcus,” she said and then raised her eyebrows. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Good girl,” she laughed. “You two look good together.”
“Haa,” I grunted. “My hubby wouldn’t agree with that one.”
“What was all that about?” Marcus asked when I sat down again.
“Wendy asked if I am doing what she thinks I’m doing.”
“And? Are you?”
“Yes,” I said quietly. “Yes, I am.”
“You won’t regret it.”
“I just want to be with you.”
“Finish your drink then. What about your car?”
“I’m leaving it here. That okay?”
“Sure,” he nodded. ‘Come on, then, let’s go.”
~~~
His house was huge, with wide extensive gardens. I knew Marcus had money, but this was something else. The front door opened onto a spacious reception area, with rooms leading off. He led me straight through into the kitchen.
“I’ll show you around later,” he said, lifting me onto a stool at a long breakfast bar.
He pushed my skirt up over my thighs. “What are you doing? We’re supposed to be talking.”
“Eating breakfast,” he replied and kissed my inner thighs while moving my lace panties to one side. I gave myself up to the surge of pleasure as his mouth closed over my cunt. It was much later before we talked…
~~~
“You can’t just walk away Katie.” We were cuddling in his king-size bed, naked after the longest bout of sex we’d shared. “You need your personal stuff from the house. And you’re entitled to half its value, whether or not he chooses to sell up.”
“I don’t want to go back,” I whispered. “He scares me now.”
“I’ll go with you and I’ll take a couple of my guys. There’ll be no trouble, I promise you.”
I thought about it for a moment. “Have you got a van?”
“Loads of them. Big ones, small ones, you name it, I’ve got it.”
“You said you’d bring a couple of your guys. What does that mean — like, how many guys have you got?”
“Let’s see… I’ve got ten or twelve at the Pink Orchid, another couple at the pub, and there’s the haulage firm I own. There’s about sixty or so there and, at the video distribution company, there’s six more. We’ll manage.”
“They all work for you?”
“Yeah, my old man started the haulage business back in the sixties. He was a very determined man, my dad. He got off the boat at Southampton in nineteen-fifty-nine with five pounds in his pocket. He got a job in a foundry, fettling, a very dirty, very hard way to earn a living. But it paid well.”
Marcus paused, nodding to himself.
“He saved five pounds a week from his wages and, after a year, he bought a horse and cart and won a contract to ferry beer from the local brewery around the pubs. Three months later he bought another horse and cart and employed a mate. Another six months, he bought an old lorry and he never looked back. Within ten years he had twenty-five wagons.
“I’ve still got the first car he bought. It’s in the garage; I’ll show it to you tomorrow.”
“He sounds quite a man.”
“He was a hell of a man, Katie. I’ve got a brother who’s a lawyer and a sister who’s a member of parliament. He and mum were very proud of us all.”
“I’d say they were right to be proud.”
“Yeah,” he smiled. “He was a tough old bastard, though. He told me how he was the only black man at the foundry and at first he ate his dinner by himself, ‘cos nobody would sit at the same table. Just think about that, Katie. Over two hundred men there and my old man sitting by himself. But, when he left, they all shook his hand. Even his boss said they’d miss him.
“His next battle was when he met my mum. Obviously, you can see I’m mixed race. My granddad threatened him, tried to bribe him, had him beaten, but he wouldn’t give her up. All that ended in nineteen-sixty-three when my mum showed dad a letter that was addressed to Mr. M. Goodson, VC. It was his annual pension letter.
“My grandfather knew what those initials stood for. My dad had won the Victoria Cross in the second world war. Believe me, baby, that medal is the hardest one to win. Even to be considered for it, you’d had a ninety percent chance of being killed. Ninety percent! Even then you might not get it.
“Anyway, my granddad realised that there might just be something special about my dad. He was right, there was. The day he died, us kids just cried and cried with mum. Even now, all these years later, we still miss him… and mum now, of course. But dad… well, he was one in a million. The police had to close all the roads around the church on the day of his funeral. Thousands of people turned up, people he’d touched in one way or another.”
Marcus’s eyes glistened as he talked and I reached to hold his hand. “Thank you,” I said, and kissed him.
“What for?”
“For telling me something that’s obviously very personal.”
“You’re my girl now, nothing is too personal to share with you.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“What?”
“Being your girl. I like it.”
“Yeah, well I want you to be more than that after you divorce him.”
“Are you proposing to me?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“You know I will — and the sooner the better.”
~~~
We’d met almost six months earlier, through a girlfriend of mine. Having a drink after work one night, she introduced me to Marcus in a nightclub. He was charming, polite, and extremely good looking. He bought us both a drink and asked me if to dance with him. God, he was a mover all right. I thought I could dance, but next to him I felt clumsy.
After four dances, there came a slow one and he asked me if I wanted to sit down. I laughed, said “No,” and he took me into his arms. He smelled of aftershave and cigarettes and I liked it. I laid a cheek against his and felt his big, strong arms holding me. I felt something else as well — he was aroused!
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking embarrassed. He tried to pull away but I held him close.
“Don’t be,” I whispered. “I’m flattered. What I’m used to, is a man who doesn’t much care about me or my feelings.”
“He must be a fool,” he said and tightened his grip.
I draped my arms around his neck and moulded my body into him. His body scent was intoxicating and the erection pressing against my stomach excited me almost beyond words.
“I’d like to get to know you better,” he whispered.
“Yes,” I said, my lips so close to his neck, “I’d like that, too.”
“When?”
“Whenever you say.”
“Come with me now.”
He led me from the floor to a door marked private. “This is my office,” he grinned, opening it with a key.
“Oh… do you work here?”
“Kind of,” he laughed. “Actually, I own it,” he added and took me in his arms. His mouth was warm and he tasted of brandy when his tongue snaked between my teeth. He leaned back against the door, his hands kneading my buttocks.
I pushed my hips forward, showing him that I was willing. He lifted one hand off my bottom and cupped a breast.
I heard myself gasp but I still clung to him as he kissed the other nipple while I unzipped him. His cock was easily the biggest I’d ever seen; I could barely get my fingers around it.
“Oh my God, it’s huge.”
“It’ll feel great inside you.”
“Yes, please,” I said, virtually drooling.
We took a few steps to a couch, where I sat and tasted his penis. A taste wasn’t enough — nowhere near. I licked and sucked the tip before drawing it into my mouth — but he drew back.
“We haven’t got very long,” he said and pushed me onto my back. Kneeling on the floor, he made gentle love to me, fucking me with long, deep strokes. He was like an artist, kissing me, taking care not to hurt me, asking if I was all right. But I couldn’t speak: I just lay back and savoured the thrills he induced in my body until I erupted in an orgasm. It was like the first time for me, as if I was a virgin.
“Was that okay?” he asked but I just smiled, dreamily. “Kate?”
“Shush,” I said, “I’m enjoying the moment.”
~~~
After that, I saw Marcus as often as possible: I was addicted to him. It wasn’t just the fantastic sex, I really wanted to be with him. His personality seemed to touch everyone. He had a ready smile and even the drunks seemed to come under his spell. I saw him take a broken bottle off a drunk who was threatening one of his security staff. He took him out of the club and I couldn’t believe it when the guy ended up shaking his hand.
My husband never suspected anything. Michael was so wrapped up in his darts and his beer, or his football, I was able to see Marcus every Saturday afternoon.
We always went, to his small flat in town. He’d draw the curtains, lock the door, and we would go straight to bed. When the local football team played away was best because we would have the whole day to ourselves.
Marcus loved stockings and I would wear them for him, even keeping them on in bed. He said he loved the feel of the nylon on his neck while he was eating me.
He loved to cook for me, too. After our first bout of sex he would rustle up something, usually steak and eggs, and we would eat it naked before going back to bed for more incredible sex. I was falling in love with him.
I’d always refused anal with Michael but I willingly gave Marcus my anal virginity. It was utterly fantastic. As his lovely big cock started to penetrate me, I came. By the time he’d come, I was completely spent, and my legs were like jelly as I walked to the bathroom. When I got back into bed, I wanted him to do it again!
Our Saturdays became sacred to us both. During the close season, when there was no football, I told Michael I was shopping with my girlfriends. I’d leave the house wearing nothing under my dress — except for stockings, of course. I’d have a wet patch on my dress by the time I’d driven to his flat. My pussy simply leaked as I thought about seeing Marcus again.
Sometimes, if he’d had a late night at the nightclub, he’d still be in bed. There was often a heap of money on the table as I stripped before snuggling into my lover.
~~~
The party was for my twenty-fifth birthday and I’d asked one of my girlfriends to bring Marcus along as her boyfriend. The plan was for them to have an argument, she’d leave, and Marcus would act upset. So, I’d sit with him, trying to cheer him up. It worked a treat and Michael even suggested that I dance with Marcus. We were still clinging tightly to each other when the last of our guests departed.
“Oops, I’d better go,” Marcus said, but Michael insisted that he stay for another drink.
“I can see that Katie likes you,” he added rather obviously, then added, “Let me make a movie of you together.”
We smiled into his camera, but when he suggested that Marcus should kiss me, I knew his game. “Go on, Katie,” he urged, “show our guest how sexy you can be.”
I pretended to be shy when Marcus cupped a breast in his big, black paw. My sigh when he kissed my nipple was real though.
“Put your hand up her skirt, Marcus, she likes having her bum played with.”
“And you like playing with it, don’t you, Marcus?” I whispered in his ear.
“Wow, stockings,” Marcus said. “Only very sexy ladies wear stockings these days.”
I smiled at my hubby as Marcus stroked my bottom, supposedly for the first time, and I nibbled his ear as his hand slipped inside my panties. “Oh my… shaven, too.” As if he didn’t know!
We lay on the sofa, locked in each other’s arms. “Fuck me,” I moaned.
“You heard the lady, Marcus.” Michael laughed as he clicked away with his camera. “Give her what she wants.”
He slipped my panties down while I unfastened his trousers and reached in for his cock. “Oh, my God,” I gasped, “it’s huge.”
“Jesus,” I heard Michael exclaim as I kissed the swollen dome and looked into my lover’s eyes.
“Do it, baby,” Marcus said softly, “suck it for me.”
I sucked it down as far as I could and cupped his heavy balls. I don’t know why, but I enjoyed sucking without my hands on his cock. Marcus moaned as I licked the underside and he reached out to hold my head while he fucked my mouth.
Michael was in raptures. He filmed using one hand, stroking his cock with the other. I wanted to deepthroat Marcus, to feel his shaft pumping hot, creamy spunk down my throat. But I resisted and, instead, I straddled him and lowered myself onto his lovely, hard erection.
With my back to my husband, I mouthed, “I love you,” and then squealed when Marcus thrust up me.
“Oh, God,” I gasped. “Oh, fuck yes. Fuck me, Marcus, fuck me hard.”
He needed no encouragement and thrust after thrust had me almost screaming with pleasure. I wanted to tell him how much I loved his cock, I wanted to tell him to make me pregnant, that I wanted his baby growing in me. He pulled me onto him, put his lips to my ear and told me that he loved me and I exploded in a shattering orgasm.
“Stay with me, Katie,” he whispered, “I’m coming, too.” I kissed him with unbridled passion as his spunk jetted into me. I was in heaven.
~~~
For the first few days after leaving Michael, I didn’t want to go out. I was nervous about being known as a scarlet woman. Marcus understood and was supportive, taking me shopping in a town thirty miles away.
“I’ll wait in the car for you,” he said and kissed me tenderly.
“Why?”
“Well, you know…”
It was then that it hit me: he thought I didn’t want to be seen with him in public because he was black. “Oh Marcus, oh dear… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
He smiled weakly and said, “I understand, Katie, don’t worry.”
“No, no, you don’t understand at all.” I shook my head, staring into his eyes. “I was being thoughtless and selfish. Now turn this car around.”
“Why?”
“I’ve been so wrapped up myself, thinking that I’ve been an unfaithful wife and people thinking the worst of me. I seem to have lost track of exactly why I left him for you.”
“Okay, I’ll buy that,” he said, nodding. “So, tell me, why did you leave him for me?”
“Because,” I answered immediately, “you’re twice, three times the man he is, and because I love you, you muppet.”
“Good answer. Are you ready to get your things from the house now?”
“I’m ready for anything with you.” I kissed him.
I didn’t simply shop with him: I clung to him, kissed him at every opportunity, held hands like a couple of lovestruck teenagers, and we had a coffee, sitting with thighs squashed against each other. In the coffee shop, he phoned to mobilise a few of his “merry men.”
They were parked along the street from my house but swung in behind us as we passed. Marcus waited in the car when I walked up and let myself in. Michael was out, presumably at work, and I waved for Marcus to come in. Together we started gathering my stuff. As well as my clothes and jewellery, I wanted various items of furniture that had been given to me by my late parents as well as sets of curtains. I was taking the final bits out to the van when Michael pulled up in his car and demanded to know, “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m taking my stuff,” I answered calmly. He then saw Marcus coming out of the house.
“And what’s he doing here?”
“He’s helping me.”
“Oh, I see,” Michael said, glancing around. “And he’s brought an army with him for safety has he?”
“Okay boys,” Marcus said evenly, “just wait for me at my place.”
“You gonna be all right gaffer?” one asked.
Marcus smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, thanks. Go on, get off.”
“They’re not going anywhere until I’ve checked what’s in there.”
Marcus gestured for them to leave and stood in front of Michael. “Well, my army’s gone now,” he said calmly. “What were you saying about safety?”
“Katie,” Michael snapped at me, “I want a word… just you.”
“I’ve got nothing to say to you.” I edged closer to Marcus.
“You just can’t go like this,” he whined. “You’re my wife.”
“Not for much longer,” I said.
His lips curled. “Well, go on then, fuck off with your fucking black man, go and get some more black cock up you. It’s all you’re fucking good for anyway. Go on… fuck off.”
Marcus still didn’t say anything, but then Michael made his inevitable mistake. “But God help you if the black bastard’s stolen anything of mine.”
Marcus hardly moved, but suddenly my soon-to-be-ex was on the floor, his bloody nose spread all over his face.
“This black bastard’s got everything of yours that he’ll ever want,” he said. Grabbing my hand, he stepped over Michael and ushered me into the car.
~~~
Back at his house, Marcus kept apologising. “He just went too far,” he said.
I kissed him gently. “He asked for it. You should have hit him harder.”
“I let myself down.”
“No, you didn’t. You stood up for me, Marcus, and I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah, well I’m not. I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”
He poured a large — a very large brandy — and stormed out into the back garden. I decided to leave him alone for a while and busied myself putting my stuff away. I was sorting clothes when he came up behind me and kissed my neck.
“Sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” I turned into his arms. “But, if you take me to bed, I’ll forgive you.”
He obviously wanted my forgiveness because he picked me up and carried me upstairs, kissing me all the way.
Much later, we lay naked in the afterglow of some great sex. His head rested on my stomach.
“Have you never wanted a child?” he asked.
“I can’t think of anything I want more, but Michael didn’t want kids.”
“How would you feel about a mixed race baby?”
I got up and reached into the drawer of the bedside cabinet. Two packets of contraceptive pills were in there and I walked away, crooking a finger at him. He followed me into the bathroom and he watched with a big smile on his face as my pills dropped, one by one, into the water!
“I’ve already given you my heart, Marcus,” I said softly, “now let me give you a baby.”
~~~~
With thanks to JWren for editing this story
