Fantasy (22 page)

Vanessa was selfish and she knew it. Vanessa couldn't share Chris with his family, not even his kids. This fact hit Vanessa like a ton of bricks. The load only increased when she heard Chris silently mumble, "I love you," as he got off the phone with his wife.
Chris started to resume his conversation with Vanessa, only to be halted in his tracks like Bo Jackson's career.
Vanessa said, "I've been thinking. We have a good time, don't we?"
"Yes, we do, baby. That is all the time,” a satisfied Chris said as he rubbed his penis at her statement.
Vanessa continued, "Let's just keep it like that." And with that Vanessa got up and walked out.
Chris's mouth was wide open. He couldn't believe what just happened. He chased Vanessa to the elevator, and decided to talk to her.
The secretary must have lost thirty calls during the fiasco, as she watched from her desk.
"I love you. Why don't you understand that?" a confused Chris stated.
Vanessa said," Yea, you love me. I could have sworn I just heard you say that to someone else."
Chris dropped his head and said, "That is my family, I don't love my wife."
Vanessa said, “I could have sworn I heard different." The elevator arrived like a coaster in a Broadway play. Vanessa entered the elevator, and told Chris to call her later.
Chris told her, "I love you."
Vanessa responded with a look that Bin Laden would have considered dangerous. Vanessa was hurt by her realization but it was a long time coming. Vanessa had played with fire and finally got burnt.
As Chris watched the doors close on the elevator, his eyes watered. Chris loved that pussy.
As Chris passed by the secretary's desk, he was approached by Jillian.
Jillian decided to play the rebound role. "If there is anything, I can do for you—," she was interrupted by a door slamming in her face.
Chris was so mad, he left work early. He stormed right out of the building. Chris didn't give a fuck. Hell, he was the boss. As he left the building, he thought of Vanessa. He loved everything about the broad. As Chris left the parking deck, a million thoughts raced through his mind; Vanessa was the focus of almost every one of them.
He thought of the situation so much, he almost ran a red light. As Chris reached downtown on his way home, he saw something that was something of a message. Chris passed the mural of a woman who looked just like Vanessa, which a graffiti artist had sprayed on one of the buildings downtown. It was rumored the artist had did it in Vanessa's likeness after watching her walk to work. Just like the other men who had spied the vixen, she was permanently burned in the man's memory.
The picture looked just like Vanessa. Chris stared at the mural, slowing down to observe it more carefully. Chris saw something, at that moment, that had escaped his sight so many times before. Vanessa could never really be captured, no matter how hard the pursuer tried. She was just like sunset, meant to be seen but impossible to ever be captured completely.
Chris reached home in less than ten minutes. As he walked thru the door, he smelled the sweet smell of aromatherapy candles burning in the air. Chris made his way back to his bedroom, only to find his wife, Shakira, waiting in an extremely lovely piece of lingerie.
She lay out like the Beauty of the month in a Black Tail magazine.
"What's up baby?" Chris said as started to unbuckle his pants.
She smiled and wiggled in the bed. She loved Chris and there was no doubt of that. Shakira had decided to wait on her man this particular evening. As Chris took off his clothes, Shakira eyed every part of his body. She couldn't help herself, Chris loved every moment. Chris took off his underwear and revealed his penis.
Shakira looked at his piece of work and smiled. The dick was big. It made her giggle with anticipation. The good thing about being married to a lover is you never get bored. Shakira laid her morning glory out to be viewed by her husband.
Chris knew not to be slow and methodical with his activities. He knew he hadn't had a shower, and he was worried Shakira would smell Vanessa. To avoid all of this confusion, he decided to proceed with business as usual. Chris put his dick all the way in his wife. The one good thing about being married is you never go without pussy. Not that Chris ever did that; it's just that he loved the fact that Shakira belonged to him.
Shakira opened her legs in the air. Her skin smelled like cocoa butter, and it filled the room. Chris could smell it, and it just made him want to be rougher. Chris grabbed his wife's legs and began to pump. He hit that pussy hard, and Shakira screamed every time he did so. Shakira had a small frame and it fit like a charm. Shakira felt good on his dick, and Chris couldn't deny it. He loved his wife, and showed her with every thrust he had to offer. He knew she really cared what happen to him. Hell, he married her, so he couldn't deny that.
Shakira loved the way her husband's body felt on hers. Shakira came over and over again. Chris's dick welcomed every burst and continued pumping. Chris and his wife never really did anything wild. The fact that they were in love was enough, to cause them to cum.
Chris tongue-kissed Shakira every time he put his dick in her. Then, all of a sudden, Chris decided to treat his wife like Vanessa and blow her mind. Chris took his dick out of Shakira, slowly, causing her to cum as he exited. Chris then grabbed Sharika off of the bed. Chris turned her body so that she was facing the wall, shadowing his feet. Chris, put Shakira's ass in his face. Upon seeing his target, Chris launched his heat-seeking missile into Shakira's pussy.
Shakira lost her breath because this was not something she was use to. Shakira said to Chris, "Baby, do the damn thang."
Chris first licked Shakira's ass and shoved his tongue into her pussy. Shakira came as soon as he did so.
Shakira grabbed her husband's dick and started sucking. Shakira started off fast, and then slacked off like a North Carolina spring shower. She slowly put the dick in her mouth, and she made sure to put a lot of spit on it. Each slurp was juicer than the last. Her ass was receiving the same treatment, why not return the favor?
Chris slurped her ass over and over again. He went from pussy to asshole, back and forth. Chris was determined to get over Vanessa. Chris decided enough was enough. He wanted some more of his wife's pussy.
Then before, Chris could go to the next phase of his plan, the freak came out of Shakira. Shakira bobbed up and down on Chris's dick while she jumped up and down on Chris's mouth. He was getting his brains sucked out. The two went at it for a while, and Shakira came in Chris's mouth.
Chris was trying not to cum to fast, and he was having a hell of a time doing so.
Shakira rose from the blowjob; the demon that had possesed her obviously was in full control. Shakira turned and faced her husband. Chris was sprawled out from head to toe, face covered with cum and dick covered with spit.
Shakira inserted her husband's dick and started to ride it. She did this only after kissing her husband in the mouth.
Chris was frozen stiff, still in shock at his wife's behavior. Chris started to rub his wife's chest and touch her nipples. Chris then grabbed her ass, as she sat on top of him, and proceeded to fuck the shit out of Shakira.
Shakira screamed with joy as Chris beat up his wife's pussy. The pussy was dripping wet and close to the grand finale.
Chris was about to come as well, and knew he couldn't hold out much longer. He loved the way she felt, it was as if Chris had forgotten why he loved his wife.
They fucked for fifteen minutes, before Shakira decided to deviate from the plan. She quickly re-assumed her 69 position and started back sucking her husband's dick. All at once both parties came on each other. Chris received a second blast of Shakira's warm hot pussy in his mouth. On the other end, Shakira choked and swallowed Chris's load. As Chris came he told his wife, "I love you."
Shakira, lost in another world, said, "Vanessa," as she released the rest of her orgasm in Chris's mouth.

I’m sitting here at my desk, wondering how—well, I already know how, so, when—the clear, well-defined boundaries I once held onto began to unravel and slip through my neatly, manicured fingers. I knew there’d be no turning back. I had crossed the forbidden zone. What had started out as a professional session suddenly swirled into a pool of unadulterated lust. And now, I’m caught up in a whirlwind romance—well, in my mind, that is— with a man whom I will never have a future with, a man whom I would probably risk my career for if it weren’t for the fact that I was a rational woman. Or was I? Was this just a figment of my imagination, or was I going insane? I guess the only way to decide
that
is to start from the beginning.

“Damn, baby,” Gerald whined, wiping the sleep from his eyes and rolling over in bed while watching me get ready for work. “You too damn sexy to be leaving up out this house.”

I smiled. Gerald and I had been dating for two years, engaged for three, and now living together for the past six months. And he was slowly beginning to get on my nerves. I couldn’t put my finger on why. He just was. He was handsome. Intelligent. And definitely a great catch. But I was starting to think marriage wasn’t in the cards for me—well, not with him, anyway. Or maybe it was the living together that wasn’t working for me. I mean, I loved him, but not in that tingly, make-your-heartwanna-melt kind of way.

We’d set a wedding date three times, and each time I ended up pushing it back. The last time I changed the date, I gave him the lame excuse that I thought we should wait until
after
he finished graduate school. That was over a year ago. And still no wedding bells. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure if he was the man for me. But the sex was superior and he took good care of me, materially speaking. His six-figure salary as an investment banker spoke for itself. And I had the five-carat rock set in platinum, and the 2005 745i BMW, to prove it. And, for now, that’s all that really mattered. I already knew
if
—and when—I did decide to marry him, it would most likely be more for security than love.

He sat up on his arms. “I wish you’d quit that damn job. I hate you going into that piece with all them knuckleheads gawking at you.”

I dramatically rolled my eyes up in my head, knowing exactly where this was heading. Gerald had a serious problem with me working around a bunch of men—particularly men in prison. It didn’t matter to him that it was a Youth Correctional facility for males, ranging from age sixteen to twenty-eight depending on their crimes. In his eyes, age was nothing but a number. If they were anywhere near me, they were all still men.

Gerald had no problem sharing his disapproval every chance he got. Which was practically every damn day. But I was not going to let his dismay dictate my line of work. I happened to be a thirty-four-year-old psychologist and the youngest woman in the department. Not to mention being the
only
sistah on the mental health team. Besides, the pay was great—and I was damn good at what I did. So, Gerald could kiss my dimpled ass.

“Because it pays the bills,” I finally responded, easing my arms into my silk blouse and then stepping into my knee-grazing skirt. I slipped my feet into my Prada sling-backs, adjusting the straps.

“No, I pay the bills,” he corrected, pulling his nude body out of bed.
I glanced down at his semi-hard dick, swaying from side-toside. The sight of his nine-inch thickness made my pussy twitch. If I had had enough time, I would have given him some of my bomb head for the road. Dick sucking was an art that I had perfected years ago. A craft I prided myself on. There were some women who refused to take the dick in their mouths; then, there were some who only half-heartedly sucked the dick, maybe on special occasions—or because it was absolutely necessary to keep their men from straying. And then there was me: A certified dick-sucking, ball-gargling, cum-swallowing freak. There was just something about the way his fat dick and heavy balls felt in my mouth that drove me—and him—wild. Whenever I had him in my mouth, I was in complete control. I had the power to make his head spin and his toes curls. I could bring him right to the brink of ecstasy, then leave him hanging or push him right over the edge. The choice was mine. He knew it. I knew it. And I loved it. Morning, noon, or night, I would suck him speechless. Right down to the last damn drop. Oh, well.
“Or have you forgotten?” he questioned, snapping me out of my trance.
“Forgotten, what?”
He repeated himself, “That I pay the bills.”
I sucked my teeth, ignoring his remark. “Well, it keeps me looking fly,” I retorted, staring into the oval wall mirror while applying a coat of cranberry-wine lipstick. I seductively licked my lips. “And you know how you like your baby to look good.”
“Yeah, but not when you flossin’ around a bunch of pussydeprived convicts. I can just see them all sniffing around you like dogs in heat.”
I had to chuckle to myself at the notion of a bunch of incarcerated men howling, scratching and barking just to get a sniff of my panties. Of course, I kept my visualization to myself.
I put on my matching blazer, hoping it would hide my curvaceous figure. I sighed when I realized it barely covered my butt. Nothing did. “Gerald, please. You’re letting your imagination get the best of you. I don’t know how many times I got to tell you that the only contact I have with any of them is when they come into my office for a session or if I have to go to one of the units for something. My contact with the majority of them is limited. And they
all
know I have boundaries. Besides, it’s not the inmates you have to be concerned with.” I threw that in just to agitate him more. He frowned. I broke into a wide smile. “I’m just joking. There’s nothing a man with a state number in a tan uniform, or with a badge, can do for me. You know the only man in my life is you.”
“And I better be,” he responded, walking up behind me, then grabbing me by the waist. “I don’t want to have to put a cap in nobody’s ass.” He kissed me on the back of my neck. “Damn, you smell good.”
I smiled at the thought of Gerald going into a trigger-happy rage. Shooting up the town like he had lost his mind, missing everything in sight. We both knew he’d never held a gun in his life. And would probably end up shooting himself in his attempt. But I decided to indulge him, anyway. “Well, if you do, I’ll already be at the prison waiting for you.”
“Oh, you got jokes,” he said, slapping me on my soft, round behind. He pressed himself against me. “Let me slide this dick up in you.”
“Nope,” I said, sidestepping him. “I’m gonna be late for work.”
He sucked his teeth. “I don’t know why you wanna work around a bunch of degenerate niggas. It’s not like they’re ever gonna change their ways.”
“Well, someone has to believe in them,” I responded, pecking him lightly on the lips before grabbing my clear-bag and keys, then heading down the stairs and out the door.