Couples of South Pointe Lake

BOOK THREE. 21. Swinging Visitations

“You good to go, honey?”

Angie checked herself in the vanity mirror in their bathroom.  She gingerly ran her fingers through her hair and worked the sleeves of the evening dress she was wearing.  Satisfied, she switched off the bathroom light and joined him in the bedroom.

“I think so,” she admitted.  “How do I look?”

“You look hot and gorgeous,” Steve kissed her cheek, shutting his eyes as he inhaled her perfume.  So exquisite.  “Let’s go.  We don’t want to keep them waiting.”

Snuggles trailed behind him as they turned off the bedroom lights before shutting the door.  They went down the stairs, where Angie then laid Snuggles to his assigned bed while Steve went to check the back door, making sure everywhere was locked.  They didn’t intend to stay out long—possibly two hours, tops—he needn’t bother seriously about locking up the house.  There has never been a burglary incident here in South Pointe lake since they moved in; his actions were born out of habit than anything else.  Angie filled Snuggles’ bowls with enough food and water to keep him preoccupied.  She wiped her hands then took Steve’s hand and together they made for the front door while Snuggles watched them with sad eyes.

They didn’t bother taking a car.  They strolled to the mouth of their driveway, then continued as if out for a leisure evening walk, which they sort of were.  Their destination was Shep Ellis’s home on Frisbee Lane, where he was hosting a party.  The party was to welcome the latest couple to grace the neighborhood.  Steve thought the whole thing as extravagant and very unnecessary.  Nearly a week had passed since the couple moved into the neighborhood.  Many of the families around were already familiar with their presence, which made throwing a welcoming party seem pointless.  Besides, he was only now starting to forget the erstwhile couple that previously occupied their home.  Both of his friends, Ollie and Garry, had called to say that they would be there.  Steve had been of the mind to ignore the invite, citing a busy work schedule, except Angie had cut him off when his friends called and said yes, they would make it.

“You know very well how rude it would seem if you said no,” she explained to him.  “Shep looks up to you, and he’d be really disappointed.  Besides, we, too, got a welcome party when we first got here.  Now’s not the time to act like a wuss.”

“A wuss?” Steve marveled at the word.  Whatever the f**k does that mean, anyway?  He wanted to protest, but Angie wasn’t hearing any of it.

Cars were parked three houses down, leading to Ellis’s home.  Steve and Angie waved and shook hands with other familiar faces arriving at the same venue.  They could hear the outpour of music as they approached the front door that opened to reveal Shep, who welcomed them inside.

“Come in, come in, Steve,” Shep patted him on the back while leading him past the crowd of hovering husbands and wives and friends milling about from the vestibule to the living room.  “Morgan was worried that neither of you was gonna make it.”

“You’ve got to thank Angie for that, Shep.  Where’s the rest of the gang?”

“Everyone’s out back,” he said, then turned to Angie, who in turn offered him her cheek to kiss.  “You’re looking beautiful, Angie.  Far so than any other woman in here.”

Angie laughed.  “You’d better not let Morgan hear that, Shep.”

“Don’t worry,” Morgan slinked past the crowd to come and hug Angie.  “I’ve heard worst before from this bad boy husband of mine.  It’s so good to see you, Angie.”

“Always a pleasure.  You guys certainly went all out for this.  I see faces here I haven’t seen in weeks.”

“Yeah, I felt the same way when Shep mentioned he’d invited the entire neighborhood.  Come on, let me show you to some people.  Steve, I hope you don’t mind.”

Morgan pulled Morgan away before Steve could respond.  He watched both women slid past other couples hovering about while moving to another part of the house.  Shep linked Steve’s arm and led him toward the back of the living room that opened into the yard where most of the party-goers were.

“Come on, the fellas are waiting,” Shep said.  “And wait till you see who’s with them.”

Most of the people were arranged in distinct groups; all appeared to be having clandestine conferences with each other.  Steve sighted Ollie’s familiar thick frame ahead, with Garry and Larry flanking him on either side.  Neither of them noticed him as he and Shep approached.  They were engaged in conversation with someone Steve couldn’t yet make out.  

“Hey there,” Shep announced as he tapped Ollie’s shoulder.  “Make way, mere mortals, for the man of the evening is here.”

Ollie turned and gave a pretentious curtsey to his friend.  “Lo and behold, Steve-O is here.”

“You’re highly welcome, your grace,” Garry chimed in.

“f**k you,” Steve laughed, then caught himself when he saw who his friends were chatting with.  All of a sudden, he wished he could swallow back his words as he took in the familiar face smiling at him.

“Hi,” Yemi waved at Steve.  

“Hi,” Steve replied breathlessly.  He wanted to say more, but nothing else came to his lips as he was too mesmerized by her beauty.  They shook hands, and he stopped when he remembered his friends were watching him.  He took back his hand and attempted to play it cool.  “Don’t tell me you made it here alone with yourself.”

“Of course not.  Olu is around here somewhere, saying hi to everyone.  Don’t tell me you’re alone, too.”

“No way that’s happening,” Shep answered for Steve.  Shep was too caught up in the moment not to realize how embarrassing this line of dialogue was for Steve, who then turned his face away from Yemi.  Yemi was quick to glimpse the annoying look that flashed in Steve’s eyes but pretended like everything was all good while Shep continued his free-flowing yap.  “Morgan stole his Angie for a moment.”  Shep turned to Steve.  “Hold on right here, buddy.  I’ll go fetch you a beer.”

“Make that two, Shep,” Ollie stopped Shep as he drained the content of the beer in his hand before giving it to him.  “Tonight feels like the type of night to get smashed.”

“Not for me,” Garry said.  He carried a Crystal Clear bottled water in his hand.  “I’m on time-out.”

“There ever been a bad time you weren’t on time-out?” Larry laughed at his friend’s dilemma, then turned to Steve.  “What you been up to all afternoon, man?  Thought you’d be dropping over at my place.”

“Sorry, Larry.  I’ve been putting a lot of work behind and needed today to catch up.”  Steve felt better to switch his attention to their guest.  “How are you finding South Pointe Lake lately?”

“Very, very welcoming,” she answered.  “Do you all do regular get-togethers like this?”

“Not as often as you’d think,” Steve said.  “Folks go all out when they’ve seen a new face around.  From the look of things, it seems you and your husband are bringing the best in everyone.”

“Ah.  A good thing we don’t come from royalty.”

Steve couldn’t think of what to say to that.  He wasn’t only tongue-tied but enthralled by her beauty and the warmth of her laughter.  There was something unique and rich about her smile.  It reminded him of their first encounter.  

His friends were chattering behind his shoulder.  Aside from them were the myriad voices of other surrounding guests around, all laughing and conversing in line with the music that seemed to warp the party into a warm cocoon.  It was easy for one to assume that most here hadn’t seen each other in ages, even though they likely resided on the same street.  But neither of these made much impact on Steve compared to Yemi’s caramel-brown eyes.  He was enticed by the aura of temptation coming at him so strong the longer he listened to her talk.  It seemed like all through his marriage with Angie, going back to their period of troubling times, this was the one woman he rightfully knew was purported to break his resolve.  

The debilitating question was where such temptation had been all these years, and why did it decide this precise moment to present itself.

“Ah, there you are, honey.”

Steve recognized Angie’s voice as she appeared out of nowhere.  Steve turned to her, and it was like a pair of scissors suddenly sniped his connection with Yemi as he saw Angie approach with a tall black man coming behind her.  The man was none other than Yemi’s husband, Olu. 

“Hey, you,” Steve accepted a kiss from Angie.  “Surprised you’d find me with all this crowd around.”

“Olu and I ran into Shep, and he told us where you were.  Olu was sharing stories about where he’s from.  We need to travel there sometime.”

“How are you, Steve,” Olu shook his hand, beaming with friendly charm.  “Yes, Angie wanted to learn more about Nigerian culture.  I told her there’s plenty to know, and it’s a lovely place to visit.”

“That sounds good.  I know she’s gonna be talking my ears off about it from now on.”

“But it’s no lie,” said Yemi.  “More westerners are visiting the African continent now than ever before.  There’s plenty of history to be learned, and the political landscape is changing unlike what it once used to be.”

“I’d hate to spoil the conversation,” said Larry cutting unceremoniously into the conversation, ‘but a lot of those African countries won’t happen to be terrorist hot spots where people chant ‘death to America’ all day?” 

“There’s none of that where I’m from,” Olu answered.  “The people are friendly, and life there is easy-going.  Sure, the government might not be all great, but tell me which is.”

Shep arrived at the right time, cradling beers in his arms, which he passed around.  Angie stuck to her glass of wine in her hand; Yemi declined any beer.  The conversation went on, but on a somewhat awkward note for Steve.  He tried his best to appear interested in the round of talk going about.  Now and then, his gaze switched toward Yemi before returning to whoever was doing the talking.  Other neighbors hanging around shifted over to join their group, expanding the number of persons around.  He felt relieved when Ollie came and managed to drag him away from the others.

“You’re being awfully distracted, Steve-O,” Ollie indicated.  “Looks like you’ve got bees dancing in the brain or what?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Just a gut feeling, or maybe I’m wrong on that.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Alright,” Ollie raised his hand in surrender.  “Mea culpa.  But you won’t happen to know what I recently found out about the Shangos.”

“What did you find out?  And quit giving me that sneaky look, will you.  It’s obvious you know something.”

“I do indeed, Steve-O,” Ollie checked to assure himself that they were alone before plunging ahead.  “The word is that they’re swingers.”

“What?”

“You heard me.  Olu Shango and his chocolate brown goddess, Yemi, are a swinging couple.”  Ollie said it as if he was revealing the world’s biggest secret.  His eyes danced with delight at the revelation.  “Could you believe it?”

Steve looked over at Olu and Yemi, both of whom were lost in conversation with Shep and Larry, including several other couples.  Steve was surprised by the news in the sense that he couldn’t yet decipher what to feel about it.  He tried imagining Olu sharing Yemi with other men.  The image that came to his mind was an unpleasant one.

“How did you come by this?”

“Does it matter how?  Would you think I’d be telling you if I didn’t know it to be true?”

Steve thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulder.  “I don’t know what to say.  They don’t look the type.” 

“Come off your high horse, Steve-O.  Not everyone looks at swinging like it’s some big deal.  Would you ever have guessed I was one if I hadn’t told you?”

“You’re right, I never would have.”  He looked toward Olu and Yemi as they were conversing with other couples.  Yemi turned to look at Steve and flashed him a smile.

“Won’t you like to imagine what it’s like to f**k her?” Ollie whispered connivingly into his ear.  Steve wanted to recoil from the mixed smell of beer and sweat oozing from his friend, but couldn’t.  “Think about it, Steve-O.  Tell me she ain’t a hottie.”

“Yep, she sure does look it,” Steve replied with what he hoped was a disenchanted response.  He couldn’t deny what everyone around likely knew to be true.  Why would he want to be the one to deny it?

“That’s what I thought.  Tell me you won’t pay good money for one solid night with that sexy black fox.  Tell me you won’t like to have that chance.”

“Now you’re daydreaming, Ollie.  Ain’t no way in hell that’s ever gonna happen.  I might as well have you quit drinking beer.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Ollie capitulated.  “Not likely that Angie will ever dream of giving you a hall pass on that.  Just a thought though, you ever think of selling the swingers idea to her?  You’d be surprised how easy she might go for it.  Women can be fickle sometimes.”

“Only in another life,” Steve said.  “Say what you want, but Angie ain’t that type of fickle.  And for the record, I ain’t said anything about wanting to bang my hot neighbor, so get that thought out of your head before I go around telling on you.”

“All right, all right, I ain’t pushing it.  Hell, she looks the sort who’d know how to whip an old boy’s ass in bed.  I doubt I’d be capable of handling her.”  He drank his beer then continued.  “Maybe one round, and then I’m calling quits.”

“What about her man, Olu.  You thinking about setting him up with Hanna?”

Ollie pursed his lips.  “I dunno.  Hanna’s never played with a black man before.  At least not one she’s told me about.”

“How would you even approach them about this?”

“I don’t f*****g know,” Ollie laughed and clapped his friend’s shoulder.  “We’re just gonna have to wait and see.  Speaking of Hanna, I wonder where the f**k she’s at?”

*          *          *

Hanna wasn’t the only one missing from the party; Olu Shango had managed to sneak away from the gathering with a little assistance from Shep’s wife, Morgan.  She led him into the house on the pretense of mixing him a special cocktail and guided him to a back stairwell away from the kitchen that wound up to the attic.  The attic was a large room containing leftover furniture, discarded pieces of junk, flea market souvenirs, and leftover bric-a-brac items.  The room should have been littered with dirt, dust, and cobwebs, except it was clean and could possibly act as a room for a would-be lodger.  A makeshift bed occupied a corner of the room, next to the skyline windows opened into the backyard.  Hanna Moss, aka Rosa, knelt on the bed, polishing Olu’s knob as he stood in front of her with his pants clustered around his knees.

The attic windows were closed with curtains draped over them, but the air conditioner unit was working fine, keeping the room warm.  The walls were sound-proofed to contain whatever noise came outside or within.  The only noise that mattered was Hanna’s lips tugging, rolling, and smacking as she smoothened her tongue over Shango’s c**k in the semi-dark room.  Shango himself appropriately urged his submissive slave to keep up with her action.  He caressed her hair and swept it off her face to get a better glimpse of her mouth wrapped around his organ.  He craved the guttural noise and exquisite murmurs she made as she went on choking on his massive girth.  Like with his other bitches, Hanna would go the extra mile to please him; they yearn to be the one who gets to submit to him the best.

He had made it known beforehand to his other slaves that Rosa would be his first w***e to f**k once he concluded settling permanently here in South Pointe; she had, after all, been the one he rewarded at their last midnight vigil.  The other wives were expectantly sore about it, but neither offered any complaint.  They each knew they would benefit individually one way or another from their Master’s presence.  Likewise, they knew with certainty that Shango was geared toward ensnaring other wives and husbands around.  This party was a perfect opportunity for him to start casing the wives he intended to breed in the forthcoming future.  That was his purpose of being a Black Master.  He would make out adequate time to fulfill each of his slave’s desire in the comfort of their home, which they individually looked forward to him doing. 

Olu slid the arm of Hanna’s dress off her shoulders to expose her breasts for him to caress her pair of silicone-hard t**s.  Three years ago, Ollie flew Hanna to a brilliant plastic surgeon in California who had done a terrific job on her.  Her implants weren’t the buxom sort designed to make any woman’s t**s appear grotesquely outrageous; hers were more voluptuous.  The right size to fit into a man’s hand with a comfortable feel, like the way Shango caressed her t**s and fiddling with her n*****s like a knob switch.  It aroused Hanna immensely, but more so that he loved the sight of her body since the first time he laid eyes on them.  Hanna had once expressed her desire to seek a divorce from Ollie without hesitation should Shango ever demand it.  She wanted nothing but to become a slave permanently to him.  Though she and Ollie have never discussed this ever happening, nonetheless, he knew perfectly well how much she loved her Master and that she would do whatever to be with him.

“We don’t have much time on hand,” Shango said to her.

“Please,” Hanna came to her feet, sucking in her breath.  “Make time for me.”

She held up her dress as she then turned around and offered him her backside while bending forward on the bed; she wasn’t wearing any panties.  Shango positioned himself and then introduced his c**k into her.  Hanna shut her eyes, she gripped the sheets and gritted her teeth.  The pain he injected into her was sharp like a bolt of lightning.  It stayed with her intensely but dissipated as her Master slid his c**k in and out of her cunt.  Her hair fell over her face, and she quickly flung it back into place, gasping while she did.

Shango gripped her waist and gazed down at her tanned butt, taking pleasure in the sight it offered him.  He sucked air through his mouth as his girth went on stretching her p***y.  Her c*m juice coated his shaft in a matter of a few thrusts.  He groaned as he felt the wave of ecstasy race up his spine, then roamed toward his arms and feet.  The feeling was mighty enough to make him buckle—Hanna’s p***y was tight and too damn good for him to pass up.  Yet he knew it was only a matter of time before her husband, including others at the party, became curious and started looking around for either of them.  Yemi would do her best to hold back their search, he knew, but not for long.

Hanna brought her hand to her mouth to hold back her cries.  That was tough-going as she continued taking repeated pounding from Shango.  His c**k—his humongous c**k!—never ceased to amaze whenever he applied it to her.  It felt as though she could feel him hitting the walls of her heart, wanting to rip her in half.  

She wanted so bad to unleash her cries.  

Shango quickened his pace, wanting to hurry out of the attic.  He gripped her arms and held them behind her back, forcing her face down on the bed.  Hanna fell forward and went on kicking her feet as Shango tore into her.  Her feet-kicking wasn’t enough to hold back her lust.  Shango’s grunts sounded feral as she let loose her cries.

“Ohhhhh!  Aaaaiiiieee!  Aaahhhhhh!”

Her gasps echoed in the room, as did her cries, which increased in tempo.  Shango didn’t slow down from pounding her harder.  A fire burnt from the depth of his nuts and raced toward the tip of his p***s.  He pulled out of her in time and jerked his c**k with all the fury his arm muscles could summon.  Hanna turned around and knelt before him with her mouth agape, anxious to receive. 

Shango launched spurt after spurt of semen into her mouth.  Hanna deftly caught each squirt that landed on her face.  She ingested each load while simultaneously responding to the next. 

There came a knock on the door.  It was a quick tap, then it stopped, followed by a successive set of taps; that was the agreed-upon signal to let Olu know who it was.  He left Hanna and went to unlock the door; it was Yemi.    

“Everyone’s asking about you downstairs,” she said.  “They’re getting curious.”

“Good.  We’re just about done here.”  Olu tucked his p***s into his pants and hurriedly arranged himself back into his clothes.  He dapped his face with a handkerchief and used it to wipe his semen off his hand.  “Do me a favor and help Hanna get cleaned up.”

Olu raced out of the room, leaving both women behind.  Yemi shut the door and turned the lock before approaching Hanna, aka Rosa.

“Your husband is running around looking for you, Rosa,” Yemi sat beside her.  “We’ve got a few minutes.  Let’s make the best of it.”

Hanna liked the sound of that.  Yemi grabbed the back of her head and drew her face towards hers for a kiss.

Olu Shango and Yemi strolled alongside Steve Miller and Angie halfway toward Steve’s home.  They, along with several of their neighbors, had said goodnight to Shep and Morgan before leaving.  The party was still ongoing and didn’t look like slowing down at all; no doubt, there were going to be plenty of hangovers waking up in the morning.  Steve reckoned he had fulfilled his obligation of staying longer than the two hours he had set for himself; even Angie was looking tired after two glasses of wine.  Olu and Yemi opted to walk with them.

“It was good seeing you both at the party,” Olu said to Steve.  “Yemi was telling me before we arrived that she hoped you’d be there.”

“You two deserve the welcoming,” Angie said.

“Looks that way, don’t it?” Steve agreed.  “And it looks to me like the whole neighborhood showed up, which isn’t often.”

“We’re like living the celebrity life,” Yemi remarked with humor.

“People here get fascinated when seeing new faces,” Angie explained.  “It was the same for us when we arrived.  Generations have lived their entire life here.  To hear them talk about South Pointe, you’d think they boarded the Mayflower to get here.”

Olu and Yemi laughed at that.  

“But it was a lovely party,” Angie continued.  

“Hopefully, we’ll be seeing more of each other,” said Yemi.

“Why, sure,” Steve answered.  “Of course.”

“Good night, then.”  Olu stopped to shake Steve’s hand and hugged Angie while Yemi did similar to Steve.  “Sleep fine.”

“You, too.”  Steve waved goodbye then took Angie’s hand.  “See you both around.”

They continued toward their home.  

A pair of headlights came cruising from behind, and Steve jumped out of impulse when he heard squealing tires.  The vehicle drove too fast for him to make out who was driving as it sped toward Canyon Drive.

“Wonder who that was,” he said as they continued toward home.

“Crazy drivers,” Angie remarked.  “Boy, I need to hit the bed right now.  I haven’t drunk this much in weeks.”

“They seem like a nice couple.”

“That’s about the seventh time you’ve said that this evening.  You had it in mind that they’d be eccentric or worst?”

“No.  But in a place like this, you never know with some people.”

“I know one thing,” Angie gave him a sly look.  “His wife’s pretty.  And she couldn’t seem to want to take her eyes off you the whole evening.”

“That’s funny,” Steve said smoothly and moved in to kiss her cheek.  “Because I’ve got my eyes on you.”

“So you say,” she chuckled.  “Come on, let’s hurry on home.  Snuggles is gonna be angsty by now.”

Minutes later, they entered their driveway and made it into their home.  Angie went and rescued Snuggles, who was busy roaming the house as though searching for them.  Steve went to investigate the kitchen to make sure nothing was disturbed.  His initial fear was that Snuggles had slinked his way into any of the cabinets in a desperate search for treats, something he often did when nobody was watching.  Angie knew how best to control the cat.  If it were up to Steve, he’d have long gotten rid of the creature.  The animosity was somewhat mutual between him and Snuggles.  

Finding nothing amiss, Steve coughed momentarily and felt the need to drink something.  He went looking in the fridge and stopped when he saw plastic bottles of water laid inside.  He didn’t recall seeing them there earlier in the day.  Steve pulled one out and read its name.  

“Crystal Clear,” he muttered.  

Angie must have bought them; he would have to ask her later about it.  Good thing it was water.  He popped open the bottle and consumed it entirely, then trashed the bottle when he was done and left the kitchen.  

“I was wondering what you were up to downstairs that’s taking you so long,” Angie purred when he entered the room.  

She spread herself on the bed, wearing a red lingerie that stopped a few inches beyond her crotch.  He would be rewarded with a full view of her snatch if she turned around and touched her toes.  It was a Valentine’s Day gift he had ordered from a Victoria’s Secret catalog.  For Angie, wearing it was a prelude that declared that she was in the mood for s*x.

“Are you coming inside, or are you just gonna stand there gawking?” she asked.  “What were you doing downstairs?”

“Having a glass of water,” he said.  “I saw the new bottles in the fridge, Crystal Clear.  You had anything to do with it?”

“Yemi gave them to me yesterday when you went out for your jolly walk.  Her husband owns the brand.  How does it taste?”

“Good.  Like any ordinary water.”

Steve patiently got out of his clothes while Angie laid waiting on him.  He put away his clothes but left his pair of briefs on him.  They were definitely having s*x tonight.  Steve had wanted it as much when they attended the party.  But that was hours ago when he had some alcohol in him.  What he felt now was numbing tiredness.  He wanted to hit the bed and fall into a deep slumber, except he knew that would mean suffering the ire of turning down Angie.  Steve went into the bathroom to brush his teeth.  

“Come on, Steve,” she complained.  “Are you gonna come, or do you want to dilly-dally all night?”

Dilly-Dally.  Wonder where she’d heard that one, Steve thought while he splashed water on his face.  “In a second, dear,” he said.

He returned his toothbrush into the medicine cabinet, then switched off the bathroom light and went to join his wife in bed.  

Angie sat up waiting for him even before he got into the bed.  She smothered him with kisses, moaning with eagerness while she did.  She was randy for him tonight, Steve realized as he returned her kisses; no f*****g way was he going to bail out by dealing her with just foreplay tonight.  He did apply credible effort in playing his significant part even though he wasn’t that into it.  He played with her t**s, bringing them to his lips as Angie moaned and slid the arms of her lingerie off her shoulders to grant him better access.  She straddled him while grasping his c**k in her hand, tugging at him to become hard; her libido odometer was speeding past one hundred.  Steve adjusted himself under her as she then settled her rump on his pelvis, exhaling as his c**k entered her.  Steve lifted his head and grunted in response.  It had been weeks since the last time they had s*x.  He had forgotten how exquisitely suffocating her p***y felt every time they f****d.  Angie’s p***y got busy milking his c**k as she began grinding her hips; she reached backward to squeeze his scrotum in her hand.  Steve shut his eyes and luxuriated in the ecstatic warmth of being inside his wife.  His hands went back to squeezing her breasts.  Angie gasped higher and louder as she went on slamming her butt with mounting degree.  Her head flung from side to side as she enmeshed herself in the wave of erotic euphoria coursing through her body.  Her body performed the work on automation.  Her mouth opened wide, unleashing wild horny pants that expanded in fervor as her pace quickened in tempo.  Steve did his best to keep up with her, breathing with his mouth open while pistoning his hips. It was so obvious that she was winning the battle.  He applied as much power he could muster, but his thrusts felt weakened, encumbered by her passion.  It surprised him at how quick he was giving up the battle with nothing amounting to even a fight.  Angie could sense it too.  She bucked her hips harder and gazed down at him.

“Give it to me,” she whimpered.  “Don’t stop, darling.  Please . . . Awwwwaahhh . . . please don’t stop!”

Steve didn’t necessarily want to stop, but he couldn’t help himself.  He was growing flaccid and weak by the second.  It was unbelievable how tired he was.  His arms felt as though they were made of lead.  He quickly conjured up a jumble of erotic images in his head.  

What appeared before his shuttered eyelids with shimmering lucidity turned out to be a woman’s face.  Yemi Shango.

Steve opened his eyes, and he must have gasped in fright when instead of seeing Angie, whom he saw in place of her instead was Yemi.  He saw her clear as day, gazing down upon him, smiling as she rode him hard.  She was gazing down at him, fretfully pleading at him not to go down so soon, not when she was yet to c*m.  That compelled Steve to reach into his energy reserves and give every ounce of power he could summon into his thighs.  A spark of life reoccurred in his p***s as it grew turgid once more, and he then surprisingly continued f*****g his wife.  Yemi’s face went away, and Angie gave a screech of approval as he slammed into her with vigor.

Her orgasm came with a roar.  Angie tensed, clenched her p***y muscles so hard it made Steve cry aloud so sudden.  It felt like his wife’s p***y wanted to rip his p***s from his pelvis.  His body muscles clenched.  His c**k went off inside Angie while she straddled, panting and groaning.  Her hands grasped her thighs while she struggled to catch her breath.     

Angie remained as she was on top of him, feeling his p***s shrink inside her cunt, loving the spreading warmth that came with his ejaculate leaking out of her.  The feeling was phenomenal, like something out of this world.  She endeavored to soak up its memory, but she couldn’t help being somewhat displeased about tonight’s encounter.  She had wanted more from Steve; she had demanded it.  After all, it had been f*****g weeks since the last time they felt the mood to copulate.  The least he could have done was take her into the stratosphere tonight.  At one point, they had been climbing high into the clouds together, then suddenly he slipped and fell back to earth. 

Angie slid off him and lumbered into the bathroom.  Steve remained where he was, entirely spent and weary to even rise off the bed.  His tiredness seemed to multiple itself now.  He listened to the sound of water running in the bathroom. He raised his head a few inches to see his p***s lying aslant of his thigh, still oozing c*m on his crotch.  A toilet flushed, then Angie switched off the bathroom light and came out with a small towel in hand that she used to wipe him clean.  She discarded the towel into a basket meant for the washing machine, then climbed into bed and laid her head on his shoulder.

“It’s been a while,” she murmured as she ran her hand across his abdomen.

“Yeah.  It certainly has.”  He said while caressing her arm.  “We ought to do that more often,” he added.

So you say.”

“There ever a time I don’t mean what I said?”

“I don’t know,” she said, caressing his chin now.  “Sometimes I wish we can go someplace and do crazy stuff.  Do something that’s so unlike us.”

“Like make love out in public?”

She chuckled.  “I’d rather f**k than make love.  f*****g in public sounds right for me.”

“I’m game for that if you are.”

“We’ll see,” she kissed him.  “Good night, hon.”

“Goodnight.”

Steve switched off the bedside light, plunging the room into darkness.  Sometime later in the night, Angie rolled off him to sleep on her side of the bed.  Steve had his eyes closed.  He listened to the deep quietness of the night while replaying their s*x bout in his head.  When that didn’t relieve him much, he rewound the tape to the festivity of the evening.  He replayed his conversation with Ollie while they talked in secret.

Tell me you won’t love to enjoy a solid night with that black fox?  Tell me you won’t like to have that chance?

His lips curled into a smile as he fell asleep while contemplating the question.