Perspectives

6 PM February 14, 200_

Ed's Perspective

I must confess to some excitement. Allison shows evidence she may be thawing. As I turned and waved at Allison and Deshawn, I noticed he was standing close to her his arm around her waist. Allison stood a few inches taller than he did. Deshawn said her height didn't bother him. He liked all women regardless. She didn't look pained or uncomfortable and didn't seem to notice or mind his proximity or his touch. They returned my wave. Walking out to the gate, I wondered if Allison was starting to really loosen up some. In the past, I have seen her push men away when they came too close. Apparently, Deshawn's presence wasn't threatening to her and she didn't mind his friendly displays of affection. Thank God, since I didn't want her to do anything that might offend my boss.

Allison was virgin territory when we married. She saved herself for true love and marriage. Looking at myself in the mirror now, I wonder how she saw true love in my face. She saw my face bright with lust and read into that lecherous expression the true love for which she looked. Our wedding night turned on a predictable response. A virgin unversed in sexual practice, Allison limited me to enjoying her charms in the standard missionary position. No sucking or licking allowed. Still, the excitement fired my libido. She was beautiful. She still is. Humping away between those long, slender legs overwhelmed me. I came like a jackrabbit. Allison seemed pleased to have made me feel good. She made to slide out from underneath me. I tried to hold her in place.

"Sweetheart, I'll be ready again shortly."

"That's enough for now. Let's talk." She squirmed from under me and raised herself up on an elbow.

"I'm sorry I didn't make you have an orgasm." I said, humbled. Just entering her had made me cum. The best I remember now, I thrust into her about three times before I exploded.

"That's okay darling," she leaned across and kissed me, "it was my first time. I am a little sore where you popped my cherry. Next time I will be more relaxed. You'll see."

Was she serious? Was she patronizing me?

Then she went on for a while about her hopes and aspirations for our marriage: getting comfortable with one another, jobs, a house and a family. She definitely wanted kids.

Allison did relax somewhat as the months passed. Nevertheless, she refused all my offers to stimulate her orally. She refused my requests for fellatio by saying, "that's so nasty." . I never entertained the thought of suggesting anal penetration. I could imagine the look on her face.

She limited our lovemaking to twice a week. With her period in progress, Allison refused me in bed. She said sex was out of the question. She said I would get excited-actually she said, "...all hot and bothered..."-and she would not be able to help me (what she meant was she would not make me cum with her hand or her mouth.)

Disappointing yes, but her looks were such I was grateful for the two sessions a week in the traditional missionary position.

I tried talking with her to get her to loosen up in bed. I said I would get books; movies: the sex therapy type, or go with her to a counselor to help put her at ease regarding some of my 'abnormal requests' (her choice of words.) She would become upset. She said she would just die if she had to talk about this very private aspect of our marriage; and the books and movies would probably be by people who thought like me she added pointing at my chest. Then after our talks, she would become noticeably cool in bed rebuffing me for two or three weeks. Therefore, as I said, I learned to be grateful for the two sessions a week.

Nevertheless, I still feel resentment at her treatment: her 'my way or the highway position' on matters sexual. In fairness to Allison, though, she was quite open with her prudish personality while we were dating, before and after our engagement. It never occurred to me that she would not relax and become more experimental as our marriage evolved.

Fortunately, for me my boss has been a much-appreciated listening ear. Deshawn Botray and I were very business-like when I first started working in his firm. But, over the months, we warmed to one another to the point where I felt we had become friends. His ease of manner and relaxed demeanor were infectious and did infect his office staff creating an easy atmosphere and a fun place to work. He remarked to me one day how beautiful Allison was while looking at a picture of her I kept on my desk. Somehow, this broke the final layer of formality between us. It was a short walk from that point to the point where Deshawn became my confidant.

I must admit to some fear inviting Deshawn to spend the evening with Allison and I last night. I knew Deshawn's relaxed, gregarious nature might meet one of Allison's cool rebuffs or verbal rebukes. Nevertheless, Deshawn and I are close enough that I felt the risk was justified. Allison and I had to start mingling among the people with whom I worked. She tended to keep to a narrow pattern of behavior: few friends and fewer outside activities. She was comfortable with this status quo but I felt my job required us to be a little more social.

I don't know why I worried. Deshawn charmed her socks off. At first, Allison appeared cool to Deshawn's effusive good nature. I don't think she liked him patting and holding her hands from time to time at first. I think Allison probably acquiesced to be polite. Deshawn obviously thought touching Allison's hands was a friendly gesture. I decided to act like I didn't think anything wrong with Deshawn's friendly caresses. Apparently, Deshawn's handholding and relentless good nature paid dividends. When we dropped him off at his townhouse, Allison joined in with the chorus insisting we had to get together again.

Little did I know, then, that I would be sitting on a plane the next day waiting to fly to Denver, leaving Deshawn the pleasant task of escorting Allison to the movies. In truth, I didn't mind if they went to dinner and made a date of it. For some reason, I felt uncomfortable, knowing I had revealed the private, sexual aspects of my marriage to my boss. I knew Deshawn wouldn't tell. I think my unease was due to the fact that Allison didn't know I had breached our marital privacy and confided our sexual behavior to someone she hardly knows.

6 PM 24 Hours earlier

Allison's Perspective

Much to my disappointment, Ed invited Deshawn to go to dinner with us and afterwards join us for a movie. I looked forward to these outings with Ed: dinner and a movie; conversation; handholding. I enjoyed the two of us doing simple activities. The addition of another person disappointed me. I never liked threesomes. The social equation is too strained.

Anyway, Ed and I picked Deshawn up at his apartment downtown. This was my first time meeting Ed's boss Mr. Botray. Deshawn owned the business. Ed talked about him quite a bit at home. He admired Deshawn's relaxed, laidback attitude in the face of job related stress and other on the job disappointments. Abstractly, I liked Deshawn for his influence seemed to help Ed relax more, especially regarding work. I knew from Ed that Deshawn was ten plus years Ed's age and African American by birth and laidback around the office but little else.

Ed stopped the car in front of this fat middle-aged black man. Ed got out of the car. I thought for a moment Deshawn must still be inside his apartment and this dark obese thing would turn out to be a coincidence in timing. My idea died quickly as Ed greeted the giant with a big smile and handshake. I had assumed an African American the height and size of Ed not this obese hulk that made the car sag when he got in the back seat.

Ed did the introductions. "Sweetheart, I'd like you to meet Deshawn Botray." Ed looked in the rear-view and side-view mirrors for an opening in the traffic.

"Mr. Botray, I'd like you to meet my wife, Allison Johnson."

He found an opening an accelerated into the flow of traffic. Deshawn reached over my seat with his hand. "Pleasure to meet you," he said.

I took his proffered hand. "Likewise," I replied, "Ed talks about you so much." "Please call me Deshawn." His voice sounded relaxed and confident.

Right away, I found Deshawn forward and impertinent. I attempted my usual quick handshake. He shook it but didn't let go. His grip, though gentle, conveyed strength. I didn't like this aggressive gesture. I tried to pull my hand free. His grip remained firm despite the obvious message my effort had signaled. I acquiesced and let my hand rest in his. The effort to try and to free it would prove difficult if not impossible and that same effort might cause disturbances that would alert Ed to my struggles.

I didn't want Ed to know my predicament or know how uncomfortable I felt. In addition, I didn't want the situation to unravel and cause Ed embarrassment. Intuitively, I knew Mr. Botray's action established some kind of domination over me for the moment but I assumed that dominion would be short-lived and would last no more than the length of our outing tonight. "So, I finally get to meet the beautiful Allison," He maintained the confident tone, though I knew he was aware I felt other than relaxed.

Relaxing his muscles he allowed gravity to pull our joined hands down so that both of them rested on the upper part of my right breast. The side of his large, pudgy mitt rested on the swell of my breast. The position of his hand made two facts perfectly apparent: I wore no bra and my breast's suppleness informed him it was natural and not man-made. "Oh yes," Deshawn whispered. "Huh," said Ed keeping his eyes on the road, "I didn't catch that Deshawn." "I'm just teasing Allison," he said sounding bemused. "I should have warned you Deshawn could be quite the joker." Ed chuckled at his own observation.

Ed drove unaware, that with the introductions now over, Deshawn's hand still held mine captive. Not content with resting his hand motionless he began a slight rhythmic motion with his hand sweeping back and forth across my right breast. Without my consent, my nipple distended in response to this unwanted motion.

Additionally, Deshawn teased the palm of my trapped hand with the tip of his middle finger and ring finger. Focused on the traffic, Ed didn't notice any of the digital trespasses made by his boss. A tingle radiated from my violated palm to my upper arm and down to the area of my breast where his hand moved back and forth. Unbidden by my will, I realized both my nipples had become erect. I could only hope my blouse wasn't too revealing. Without warning, he released his grip letting his fingers slide from around my hand.

I felt flushed, embarrassed and uncomfortable all at once. I did not turn to give him a hard 'how dare you' look. Inwardly, I cursed my timidity. At the same time, I tried, by an outwardly calm demeanor, to keep Ed from sensing my discomfiture. I did not want to ruin the evening by getting angry and loud calling his friend rude, insolent and perverted. Also, complicating the picture was the fact Deshawn was Ed's boss. Intuitively, I knew Deshawn would disavow any wrongdoing. My accusations and his denials would put Ed in an intolerable position, I felt weird too. For the first time in our marriage I was keeping a secret from Ed. I did not see any other way to address the situation. I could only hope Deshawn was just playing around and teasing. Maybe he did that with women, especially wives of employees, to see their reaction knowing they would be afraid to say anything.

At the restaurant, much to my dismay, Ed insisted on sitting me between him and Deshawn. I had hoped Ed would sit between us preventing any more of Deshawn's friskiness. I knew my husband's supervisor well enough, now, to know he would take advantage of the dim lighting. I didn't relish his attention. Throughout, before, during and after dinner, Deshawn displayed a warm, caring sentiment for both Ed and I. Ed did not seem to mind Deshawn covering my right hand with his big, fat, black paw. I, personally, don't think Ed ever realized the extent to which I had become a hand rest for Deshawn's huge mitts.

I kept quiet and pretended to enjoy the conversation. Ed loves the sound of his own voice. Deshawn reinforced Ed's loquacity with rejoinders and questions that required Ed to continue talking. Ed held my other hand. He didn't seem to mind Deshawn having possession of my right hand. After a time, Deshawn removed his hand. For a moment, I enjoyed the freedom of my right hand. That thought was short lived. I felt his big paw come to rest about midway up my right thigh. I wore no stockings with the mini skirt. Ed insisted my legs didn't need to be covered by nylon, "perfection should be enjoyed by the senses not covered up." My vanity complied with this compliment and I hadn't worn stockings since.

Very flustered at this point, I stood and excused myself.

Without warning, Deshawn prevented my departure by pressing my leg against my chair with one of his legs. My involuntary stillness afforded, Deshawn a quick, stealthy feel of my bottom. In one swift, motion his hand found the fabric of the thong and followed the thinning band of cloth until it entered the crevice between my cheeks. He rubbed each buttock to the top of my thighs and then released my leg. During this attack on my rear, Ed had been scooting his chair back to give me more room to pass by.

"There, now you can get by," he said unaware I waited not on him to move but for Deshawn to release me beneath the table. On unsteady legs, I walked to the powder room. While in transit, it occurred to me Deshawn knew the briefest of thongs represented my total complement of underwear.

I reflected sardonically, that Ed would have no idea what I wore under my silk blouse and mini skirt.

In the bathroom, I set in a stall trying to comfort myself with the thought this was just one evening. Hereafter, I would decline any function or activity Deshawn attended. In addition, I did not want to cause a public scene with Ed's boss during our date. I would just endure the uninvited and unwanted touches and attentions. After a few minutes of these resolute cogitations, I returned to the table, firm in my resolve

That resolve evaporated when I saw only Deshawn sitting at the table. I hesitated briefly, and Deshawn rewarded my tentativeness with a smile.

"Go ahead, and stand there till your husband gets back. I don't mind. In fact, I understand your hesitation," he said.

He sat with nonchalance and radiated an easy confidence. His relaxed posture and easy smile were disarming. He showed no compulsion to be other than he was. No doubt, predators dominated his genetic makeup.

I sat down. I felt uncomfortable and helpless.

Showing no concern for my feelings, he immediately began caressing my right thigh. I remained motionless and did not try to parry his hands.

"I sent Ed to call the office regarding a client. The call is unimportant. However, it will consume several minutes of his time. I wanted to be alone with you for a few minutes." No hint of tension or excitement ruffled Deshawn's voice.

Made bolder by Ed's absence and the low lights of the restaurant, he slid his hand up between my legs and started caressing the tiny strip of fabric that barely covered my labia. I jumped and squealed softly when he touched me there. The people at the table nearest us looked over. I smiled and nodded at them raised my hand and mouthed "sorry." I struggled to appear calm. They turned back to their dinner and resumed eating. I grabbed his probing hand through the fabric of my skirt.

"Stop," I hissed between clinched teeth.

He continued the light touching between my legs as if I hadn't spoken. His strength ignored my feeble efforts to move his hand. I must admit at this point in the evening Deshawn's boldness and relentless caressing had awakened dim, pleasurable feelings in my body. My body had turned on me. Did he know something about me of which I was unaware?

"Please stop," I whispered pleadingly.

His fingers ceased moving but rested ever so gently on that area of the thong that had grown damp from the moisture my vagina had started to secrete. I was saying no with my voice and upbringing but my body said yes with secretions, shallow, rapid breathing and a fast heart rate. I knew without a doubt, his predatory nature sensed both my discomfiture and my growing excitement with his fondling. I think too, he knew instinctively the size and degree of my timidity and helplessness. That knowledge only served to excite and intensify the aggressive behavior he directed towards me.

"I will if you let me have that thong right now," his voice calm and assured. He put his fingers beneath the fabric. As his fingers encircled the thin band of fabric, he moved his hand up and down. I gasped. The back of his fingers traced the lips of my vulva. My pubic hair celebrated with the hairs on the back of his fingers. "Huh," was all I could manage.

He parted the labia suddenly and traced my vaginal orifice with the tip of a finger. I felt my self-control departing. If Ed returned now, he would see, if he looked at me, something was amiss.

"Okay, take them. They're yours. But please stop touching me." My voice cracked. My throat was dry. I sounded distressed to my own ears.

"Lift your bottom," he commanded quietly pulling on my panties.

I raised myself slightly and he pulled them down letting them drop in a bunch around my feet. Dropping his napkin, he bent down and pulled the panties from around my ankles. Looking at me, he lifted my underwear to his nose and inhaled audibly. Deshawn seemed unconcerned about what others might think seated near us. Inwardly mortified, I surveyed the restaurant but every table seemed focused on their own affairs.

"Your panties smell like perfume. I expect scents like these float on the winds of paradise." He smiled at me his gaze boring into my eyes as if to take my measure. He put the panties in his pocket. I looked away, timid, not knowing what to do.

Ed returned shortly thereafter. We ordered. Ed and Deshawn ate heartily. I just pushed the food around on my plate unable to eat more than a few bites. I must confess my bowels felt liquid with a strange kind of excitement from all the unwanted caresses. I think some of the excitement originated from the fact I wore no underwear. The rest of my excitement came from Deshawn's relentless pawing. I dreaded what Deshawn might do next. His bold initiatives were so contrary to any previous experience of mine I could not prepare a countermove. He had me so off balance emotionally and mentally I felt I had no recourse but to sit still and let him have his way. Tacitly, I had given this obese black man permission to play with my body regardless of any kind of marital sanctity I might profess in public. I could not bring myself to tell Ed about the secret explorations and exploits of his friend and boss.

During desert, I sat with my hands folded in my lap. While Ed talked animatedly about something I cannot recall, Deshawn gently took my right and moved it ever so lightly resting it on his fat upper thigh. He carried a concealed club in his trousers.

"Squeeze it," he whispered.

Then, I knew what I gripped with my hand. I tried to pull away but his huge paw kept my fingers from releasing the thing. We sat like that for some time. Eventually, I relaxed a little. I wanted to appear calm, at least outwardly. He moved my hand along its rigid length. He rested his hand on mine and held it on the head of his organ. It fit the palm of my hand like a tennis ball. I tried to estimate his organ's width and length. How many cubic inches was his cylinder erect?

"My God," I thought, it must be ten to twelve inches in length. Ed's penis was a baby's index finger compared to what I now touched. To my surprise, I found myself wondering what it must look like fully aroused and free of restraining garments. Would Deshawn make sure I had that chance some time soon? If not tonight, then on some other date he, himself, might arrange for that purpose? I shivered. Suddenly, I realized Deshawn had released my hand. How long had I been stroking up and down the length of his aroused manhood since he released me? I blushed. Mentally, I slapped myself for this gaff. I also slammed myself for physically responding to Deshawn with what remained of my morally correct upbringing and my loyalty to Ed.