Racing Into the Night

Chapter 3 - The Intruder

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"So..." Rachael was saying; "you overall think it's my fault everything went to shit."

I grimaced. "No! It was mine, and it was Aaron's, is what I'm saying." But she wasn't really having it.

"Your part in being the henpecked husband had no part in it, then?" Rachael crossed her arms, her mouth twitching as if it fought back a frown. "Which, if I'm hearing right, is because you felt so stifled by me. Despite--despite everything."

There was a long, long pause. "You did take Bailey to see her grandparents without me." At that, Rachael looked away. "Were you still so ashamed of me, Rach? That I couldn't come around to your family?"

She sighed, rubbed her knuckles together. I saw that she still wore the ring I'd gotten her, despite it all. She rubbed the jewelled silver band absently, and took a difficult breath. "That week...look, dad was already dealing with cancer and grandma was dying," she muttered. "I didn't think I needed to make things harder."

"I'd make things hard, huh." Rachael chanced a sidelong glare at me, and the cracks in her armour glinted through. Just a little bit. "Rach, you gotta know how that sounds. What that made me feel."

Just a beat. "And that...feeling...it was enough to make you do what you did. Was it?"

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Now that I had Mr. Rodriguez's phone number, it burned a hole in my pocket. I must have gone another three weeks, maybe a month in between having him in my car and discovering he'd left his number for me, and me finally using it. I knew exactly what I needed to do with it. I just didn't have the courage.

Those weeks were torture for everyone involved. Like a man possessed, all I wanted was Mr. Rodriguez. The image of his handsomely curved dick, that skyward slope of his cock; the way he smelled and tasted. His entire aura. How he leaked into my mouth. It burned itself into my memory.

All the worse for poor Rachael. My Rachael, who I knew wasn't stupid; the woman with whom my sex life had never used to slouch, even at our big age. The nights she climbed on top of me and I would roll over and feign deep sleep. I would hear her sigh in heavy disappointment, and try to go back to sleep. I went to sleep each night with the taste of guilt heavy on my tongue.

So it was to nobody's surprise that when she took off on a trip at the end of that month, there was a sense of relief in the house. It wasn't like it came out of nowhere; she had been planning a vacation back to the west coast to see her family anyway, and she had always planned to take our daughter with her. It's just that now, with both Rachael and Bailey gone, the only thing left in the house was me.

And Mr. Rodriguez's number.

As it turned out, I didn't need to use it myself.

Rachael had barely been gone an hour, when I heard a knock at the door. Naturally, I assumed that it was a package, or maybe Rachael had forgotten something. Imagine my shock when I saw none other than Aaron Rodriguez at my doorstep. Smiling at me. My personal demon, having crawled out of hell to taunt me.

I wanted to be mad. I wanted so badly to be angry. But I couldn't be. When I saw him standing there in a business casual shirt and pants, his handsomely lupine features etched in the shadows of evening, his tantalising woody smell...I was losing the battle. Fast. Why did he have such an influence over me?

"Hey, Mr. Aguinaldo," he said in that slow, coy way that I couldn't stand. "Rachael still here?" That was when I noticed he had a brown paper bag by his feet.

"Mr. Rodriguez," I said with a guarded nod. "No, afraid she and Bailey have already left for the airport."

He frowned. God, he was still handsome then. "Well, fuck me. I was stuck in traffic on the way here--I wanted to give her something before she left." He rustled his bag somewhat.

"Ah." I put my hand on the door frame, already so eager to shut him out. "Can it wait till she gets back?"

"Afraid not. It's perishable. I told her I owed her dinner for helping me smooth out a blunder I made at work." His smile was just a touch embarrassed. "Maybe...you'd like it? That is, if you like Peruvian food."

My hand stilled on the door. "Afraid I've never had it."

"Would you like to try it?" And he shuffled somewhat closer. "I'd, uh...hate for it to go bad, is all. It's too much for just me. And Nitya...." A vague, hand-spread gesture. I sighed from somewhere terribly deep in me. "Mr. Aguinaldo...would you let me in?"

Fuck me.

When I found myself and him seated at my dining room table, where all manner of folders, documents, and Bailey's homework was still scattered about, I got the distinct sense that he was an intruder. He'd found me, in my moment of solitude, where I thought I would be alone. Safe.

And yet I was the one that let him in. I was splitting a serving of ceviche and rice with him, and I had offered him a beer. I couldn't be a bad host, after all. That was improper. This...this was improper.

"...from what I understand," he was saying with a half-full mouth; "Filipinos got something really similar to ceviche. What's it called again? Kinny...uh...?"

I nodded, pounding back a swig of crisp beer. "Kinilaw. It's close enough." Mr. Rodriguez hummed and nodded in faux-deep appraisal. Really, I didn't have much to talk about. "This is, uh, pretty good."

He smiled. "Glad you think so. I made it myself." Fuck. A man after my own heart. Wait, don't think that. "Nitya hates raw seafood, can't get her to come to sushi, can't get her to eat ceviche. Shit."

"Mr. Rodriguez."

"Yeah."

"Do you like your wife?"

The question caught him off-guard. The tip of his fork hit the plate with a gentle clatter, and, for once, he avoided my eyes. Only briefly. "Of course I love Nitya," he said slowly, gaining composure again. "But she...she doesn't always give me what I need." He spread his hands in front of him. "I love women, Mr. Aguinaldo, but sometimes...I wonder if I don't like men more. But them's the breaks when you marry, you know? Have you never had eyes for anyone besides Rachael?"

My face burned while I looked away. "It's different." I knew it was not.

"How so?" The way he stared....

"Rachael...she...I...." I couldn't meet his eye, couldn't tear myself from the half-eaten plate of food in front of me. The argument died thusly on my lips. I felt him burning holes into me. He was unbearable to be around...and when I felt his soft fingertips on my knuckles, I buckled.

"Mr. Aguinaldo," he was saying; "it's okay. Men, we...we get urges." I tried to peer up at him, and sure enough, there it was. That stare, the one that bored into the deep, unspeakable parts of me. "Women, too, fuck. Everyone does. You commit yourself to one person upon marriage, but...is that what the heart really wants? Come on...."

"You can't possibly know what I want."

"I think I have an idea." Mr. Rodriguez had put his fork down, and reached for my hand across the table. "Forgive me...I wasn't fully honest with you." He tapped my knuckles with gravitas. "I knew Rachael was leaving for her trip when she did. We, uh, talked about it at work."

A deep frown from me. "So this meal was--"

"For you. Well, us." He shrugged. "As an apology for me, uh...attacking...you. That night." He smiled bashfully. "Food, I've found, is an effective means of offering peace."

"Peace?" It came out as a scoff. "You changed my entire world, you made everything difficult...and you want to offer me peace? Mr. Rodriguez--do you think I'm stupid?"

I was keenly aware of him leaving his seat, and coming around behind me. Even while I was sitting, he only had to lean down slightly as he draped his arms around me. His soft fur. His smell: wood and vanilla. It was unbearable. I leaned back into him against all my faculties of willpower. Here, in the dining room I shared with my family, the effects of whom were still strewn about. Mr. Rodriguez held me, planted fuzzy stubble-lined kisses up my shoulder and neck.

"I'm sorry," he was muttering. "I don't doubt you love your wife and daughter. I love Nitya, again; I love our girls. But don't you need this?" He kissed a trail up my neck. "When was the last time you came?"

"Two weeks ago." It came out garbled.

"Two fucking weeks," he repeated, like he was sad about it. "Don't you need this? Don't...you need me?" I declined to say anything; I was losing the fight with myself. He continued to kiss me up my neck, until he landed at my ear. His hot breath, his insistent panting. "I promised I'd always ask, so...Mr. Aguinaldo, can we...? Here? Can we have sex?"

My shoulders heaved downward as I let the wall collapse. I didn't say anything, just nodded, and that was all he needed. Mr. Rodriguez worked his hands down the front of my shirt, and slowly, snaking downwards, took hold of my front. He massaged my tits, the dips between my mounds, my round, fuzzy belly. I was nowhere near as hairy as him. I think he liked that. He was humming his approval of what he touched.

I stood up, and I towered over him easily. He came up to my chest, nestled his handsome face right there. But like it was in the hallway, it was he whose presence filled the room, filled my senses, made everything...okay. I felt myself trembling as he looked up at me, his arms halfway around me, grinding his devilishly hard cock into mine. I was so hard. I needed him; my cock filling my shorts with precum was an unabashed indication.

"I've wanted this," Mr. Rodriguez exhaled into my shirt. "I need you. I can't wait to feel the inside of your ass--"

"No." I could hardly hear myself past the pounding of my blood in my ears.

"Oh...wait, did I do something wr--"

"Mr. Rodriguez," I growled out, my lips resting on his scalp; "if you really want peace like you said? I'm gonna be the one fucking your ass. Take it or leave it." There was a pause...then Mr. Rodriguez only squeezed tighter, ground his cock into mine even harder.

"Fuck, you can be so commanding, Mr. Aguinaldo," he said with a throaty laugh. "I'll fucking take it, papi oso." He held my wrists in his hands. "Where'll we...? Y'know...."

"Here is fine," I said with finality. There was no way I could let him into our bedroom, or any of the other bedrooms in my house. Mr. Rodriguez was not allowed to spread his trace, his influence, his aura past this main room. I wouldn't be able to handle it.

He seemed to be alright with that. Looking around, Mr. Rodriguez took me by the wrists again, and led me towards the living room. He picked the longest couch and draped himself on it. He unhooked his belt and his pants were off him in a flash. His underwear, a pair of bright blue briefs tented viciously at the front by his pouring cock. I barely let him start with his shirt before I descended on him, a man possessed.

"Fuck yeah," he said with a grin in his voice, which quickly turned to a groan as I started sucking him through the flap in his briefs. The smell of him filled my nostrils. His angry red cock was beautiful, shaded by the darkness of evening and lit up appetisingly by lamplight. A darker, ruddier brown than the rest of him. He had trimmed a long enough while ago for the little black-and-silver hairs to poke back through. I fished into the hole to draw more of his addicting cock out.

I angled in such a way as to suck him easier, get more of him down my throat. I was so full of him, his unrepentant manliness, the thing that made him so desirable. He continued to pour his salty-sweet precum down my throat while he peeled the rest of his clothes off. And soon he was grabbing at mine.

We were naked and sweaty within the minute. Mr. Rodriguez lounged on my couch, sat back with his hands behind his head and let me take him all in. My assumptions of him having been an athlete in the past were all but confirmed when I saw some surgery scars dotting his furry sun-browned body. He was so hairy; black and silver, like the hair on his head. From his collarbone down, I rubbed him, drinking in his body the whole way down. He smiled at me, taking in the sensation of my big paws rubbing down his torso.

"Ah, fuck," he breathed out. "I love your big hands." I rubbed his pecs, his sides, and traced the patterns of his body hair, quickly slicking with sweat. All the while I descended on his cock again. I couldn't get enough. Mr. Rodriguez fucked my mouth slowly, deliberately. Not at all like the way I had him throat me at the office. But we'd had a time limit then.

My wife was out for the week.

As I sucked down Mr. Rodriguez's cock, his scent, I felt his hands go to the back of my head. His slow, regular pace was interspersed with gentle, quick jerks. I knew right away what he wanted, and covered his hands with my own, and pushed my own head down on his cock.

He chuckled that signature laugh, and pushed down, deeper into my mouth. The angle of his cock threatened to choke me before I could bottom out. But soon I had Mr. Rodriguez's entire length all the way in my throat. He sighed, his cock twitched errantly. I was losing it. I kept working him with my tongue. He tasted amazing. He bucked and ground up into my mouth, my lips finally meeting his pubes, and he shook with panting lust. But I had no desire for him to cum down my throat today.

I pulled off of him. Annoyance crossed his face, and immediately softened into confusion. I hefted his thighs underneath my biceps, flexing as I brought his ass up to my face. As his toned legs came over my shoulders, the smell of his hole overtook me fully. He had showered, but he was one hairy fucker, and sweat and odour collected in his dark, secret recesses. It was intoxicating.

"Mr. Agui--ahh--ahh! Ahhhh...." His words died on his lips as I braced myself and dove into him. His most private parts. Mine for the taking. I hardly cared about prep at this point. I devoured his hairy man pussy like a creature unleashed. Mr. Rodriguez was halfway to screaming as I went. My beard was short, somewhat sparse, and I knew, added to the sensation all the same. He writhed beneath my mouth like he was trying to get away.

I held his ass in place. He wanted peace, and I wanted to destroy his whore hole.

"Loud sonofabitch, aren't ya, Mr. Rodriguez." I prodded past his anal ring with my tongue, carefully spreading him open with my fingers as I went. As much as I wanted to plough him, he had to enjoy it too. Two of my thick, meaty fingers lingered at his entrance, prising him open while I licked him. He tasted fucking incredible. Of course he did.

We went on like this for what felt like long, unending minutes. We changed positions a few times, always ending up with my mouth against his wet, twitching hole. At some point, he lowered me onto the floor, and he straddled my face; two hairy thighs framing my head and trapping me under the sensation that was him. One hand was stroking his inner thighs, the other fisting my cock against my better judgement.

But he would not get the better of me.

Shivering, Mr. Rodriguez slithered off of my face with his hands up. "I have...never...been eaten out that good before," he said in between breaths. "You're a maniac, Mr. Aguinaldo." He laid on the rug, and I slowly rolled over towards him, my weight eclipsing his. He put a hand to my face, wet with spit, sweat, and precum. He smiled at me through his gauzy haze of lust. I put a thumb to his hole. He threw his head back helplessly. "Any lube?"

I was prepared for him. Rachael and I naturally kept a handy tube hidden in the couch pocket, and I drew it out to show him. Now, he just laughed. "That's hilarious. Of course you do."

Barely paying attention to him, I was already slicking up my cock with the cold, sticky gel. "Mama and papa didn't raise an amateur," I muttered. I made sure to thoroughly slick him up too, never mind the fact I'd spend the last twenty minutes loosening him up already.

"Fuck me, Mr. Aguinaldo," he said breathlessly; "you guys must be freaks. Rachael is one lucky--aaagghhhhh!" The feeling of my middle finger entering him like a bullet shut him up. My vision became hazy watching him squirm, his mouth twisted in a panting scream. Slowly, at first, I fingered him. Then I picked up the pace. My fingers weren't nearly as long as my cock, nor as thick. I explored his maze, making sure he was nice and loose for me.

"Fuck me...shit, fuck me...." He was panting curse words like a mantra, and was still doing so when I finally lined the fat head of my seven inches at his hole. I knew I was thick; I couldn't shove it into him right away--but fuck. Slowly I made my way in. Inexorable. It was such a good feeling. My precum, my spit, and the lube helped find the path inside him, and it was all I could do to stop from busting immediately.

I was very dimly aware of the idea that I should've used a condom. But I didn't have any in the house. Aaron didn't say anything. He just gaped at my huge body over his, his eyes watery with primal lust.

I bottomed out in him after what felt like forever, and kept myself there, though it was almost impossible. He massaged my chest, his hands slick with the sweat that poured from me. His body hair was stuck to him in wet loops and circles. My thighs shook ponderously with the effort of not trying to cum in right away. He would not best me like that.

It was him who spoke first. "Mr. Aguinaldo..." his face was the colour of a beet. "You can move now." His cock throbbed angrily, a small puddle of precum puddling in his hairy belly.

"I can move now?" I pulled slightly back out of him.

"Y--you can--m--aaaaagghhh...." And I levered myself into him again. Slow, steady; really, I was just trying not to cum. Tight as he was, he wasn't nearly as dextrous with his hole muscles as Rachael, and he was mostly content to lie there, taking my girth. I fucked him like I fucked a lover. I wanted to cum...

Before long, I rested on my knees and he raised his ass to meet my hips. He was like a crushed pretzel at the foot of my couch, helpless to the motions of me fucking him. My body shook like the ocean, the waves of my belly hitting his thighs with an unerring slap! slap! slap! He clawed at my chest. Not to stop me, no. His whore hole wouldn't allow that. He just needed to touch something.

"This what--you wanted?" I breathed out as I fucked his ever-loosening pussy.

"I--wanted--to fuck you," he protested. And yet again, that shit-eating fucking grin. My insides shook, caught off-guard. I plunged deeper into him, and he groaned--then laughed. I couldn't stand it. "I just want you. I--aagghh! I--want--you...!" I picked up the speed. Fucker! Absolute fucker. I hated that I wanted him, too.

Between me and my full nuts, I was losing the battle. I needed to cum. I needed to coat his loose insides with my cum. I put a hand under his chin. Immediately, he took the thumb in his mouth and sucked. Fucking whore...! The sight was too much for me.

"Mr. Rodriguez, I'm cumming."

"Cum in me, papi oso...."

There was nobody but us in that room. I roared, no--screamed my orgasm as it ripped out of my body. I didn't even know how many bursts of cum I let loose in his hole. I lost count after the seventh shot that rocked my body hard enough to slip out of him. I was dimly aware of my thick cum bubbling out of his wrecked hole, and it was so fucking obscene. I think a second, minor orgasm spilled out of me after seeing that, because I felt my still-hard cock twitch and belch out another weak spurt of cum.

Aaron was struggling to stand. Cum trickled down his legs and caught curiously in his leg hairs. I watched him scoop some off of himself, and smear it onto his cock while he beat off. His face was red with the strain. "Please let me cum on your body," he pleaded.

I sat upright slightly to allow him better access. He lowered himself again, next to me now, and he pounded his cock like a demon had taken over his body. I examined his beautiful cock closer now; the shaft skinnier than the head, which was a furious apricot colour. A wide piss slit that continuously leaked precum onto my belly. He leaned down, grabbed my shoulder for balance and--