Guilty Pleasure

I walked towards the bathroom mirror, steam clouding my vision from seeing the La Perla bridal collection white floral lace corset hugging my curvaceous body. For breasts the size of melons, I was surprised I was able to even fit myself into a corset and not lose consciousness. I could feel my insides squeezing together but beauty was pain and pain definitely brought me pleasure.

I rubbed coconut oil all over my bare legs, watching my mahogany complexion glimmer and smooth out. I pulled my long ivory gloves over my elbows. While watching myself in the mirror, the lights caused the ring on my left hand to shine. The six-carat diamond princess cut ring custom made only for a Queen. Yes, this ring was very heavy on my petite hand. However, I made sure the man I married possessed pockets wide enough to carry the bill. With the shimmery gloves, the ring gave my attire sex appeal and elegance. I haven’t worn my honeymoon wear in a very long time but tonight was a great occasion.

I glanced at the time. Eight thirty.

My nightly routine consisted of putting my panties on last, so I took a nice gaze at my fresh Brazilian wax. Approving my vision in the mirror, I loved how I could turn myself on.

Nine o’clock. He was late.

I tried not to let my jitters get the best of me. The thought of being stood up didn’t sit too well with me, but this wouldn’t be the first time. I slipped on satin white panties and heard the vintage 2003 Dom Pérignon calling my name. I popped the bottle and poured a generous amount in a flute. I leaned back on the chaise, watching the city skyline glitter. Within that moment, I felt alone—such a big city and realizing all we have is ourselves. We have one body to get through the days, weeks, and months of this world. Only one mind to endure the millions of thoughts we possess from interacting with others. I loved meeting new people, and often times, I felt my marriage kept me in a bubble. It kept me from revealing my true self.

It was ten o’clock when a heavy knock interrupted my mental conversation. At this point, my jitters dissipated due to the three glasses of champagne.

Opening the door and there stood over six feet of glory. I looked up at my muse. His all black attire left me a little weak. I needed to lean against the door to gain composure. His button up, a few undone, clung to his muscles. His dark blue-black complexion presented free of blemishes. I knew he wasn’t the type to wear makeup, so his look was au naturel. I bit my lip, moving out the doorway to let him inside. No words needed to be spoken; we knew why we were here. I put the “Do Not Disturb” tag on the doorknob and closed it behind me. He walked over to the food tray, grabbed a glass of champagne and popped a few strawberries. “You always have to be fancy, Blanche,” he chuckled. “I told you, all this isn’t necessary.”

Without me having to tell him to, he took off his black shoes and slacks, sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed. He barely looked at me. I stood from a distance, fiddling with my diamond ring, deciding whether to leave it on or off for the occasion. “I just wanted to make things feel special,” I mumbled. “It’s bad enough you’re late.”

He walked over to me in his boxer briefs. All his clothes were folded on the chaise near the windows of the hotel room. His oiled body was free of tattoos, and his quadriceps bulged as he walked. His lips met mine, his hands met my ass and I ran my gloved hands up his chest. He didn’t have a six-pack or a pack of four, but he was fit. “I’m sorry for being late,” he kissed me passionately and gripped my hips. They were soft, plump, smooth and perfect. “Just had too much going on, but believe I thought of you the whole time.” His lines went through one ear and out the other. I could smell the warm tones of cedar wood from his cologne and brought his lips back to mine. We stayed against the wall, kissing until we couldn’t taste a hint of champagne on our tongues.

We went to the bed and I straddled him. The cotton white comforter contrasted against our rich brown skins. Close to yin and yang, at least that’s how I felt. My lips traveled all over his neck and chest, feeling his dick poke out his briefs. His hands ripped my G-string and caressed the heat between my legs.

I wasn’t in the mood for foreplay tonight, and luckily, I could tell neither was he. I gripped his dick to enter from beneath me. A thousand shivers rained my body from the shock of girth, and I tilted my head back. My teeth bit into my lips and I tried so hard to prevent any moans to escape. He ran his hands up my thighs, up to my breasts and pinched my nipples. My hips whined and pushed into his pelvis, bringing him deeper and deeper into me. His grunts became moans and I gained satisfaction from seeing his mouth shaping into a big O and struggling to speak. Creamy white gush dripped down his thick shaft, wet sounds projecting through the hotel room. I didn’t feel an orgasm coming on but I could see he was ready to reach his own.

I used his chest as leverage to continue riding and rocked my hips upon him. I became a little lightheaded and could feel him opening me up wider and wider, my walls getting moist and slicker. Bringing my body to a squat, I bounced my butt up and down, and I forgotten I was still in my bridal attire. I started to take off my gloves to keep from slipping, since his chest started to glisten, but I caught sight of my diamond. My ring glimmered and I put it to his lips. “Kiss it.” He looked confused for a second but I stopped riding him to prove my seriousness.

“I’m not kissing that thing,” he said and tried to keep fucking me from underneath, cupping my ass with his hands.

This turned me off and irritation struck my nerves. “I don’t see why not. You’re so okay with fucking me, but can’t kiss my stupid ring?”

He said, “It’s demeaning. Things start off fun and simple but you ruin it by reminding me you’re not mine.” We stared at each other for a second and I noticed how his body tensed and the mood was ruined. I took myself off his shaft and rested beside him. Nonchalantly, he took a stroll to another glass of Dom Pérignon. “You think I like being reminded of that shit on your finger?” I started to feel little and brought my legs to my chest. This Adonis stood in front of me, sipping champagne and looking smug. As if he called me, not the other way around, and I ruined the moment. I could feel my pussy drying up the more he sipped, vented, and ignored my request. Suddenly, he spoke with an angry tone, “You’re not my bride,” he pointed towards my ivory wear. “You’re not my virgin lover. You’re a sinner, you find me as your escape. You’re not this angel in all white, you’re playing a fantasy.”

Before I knew it, my eyes sighted his sculpted body roughly putting his clothes back on.

Drinking more and more champagne, soon the bottle was empty and he threw it across the table. I flinched from the sound and folded my arms. “You’re being dramatic,” I spat.

“You’re a cheater,” he snapped back.

Cheater. That word made me flinch. That word is completely overrated. He hawked more vicious words at my dignity, and lastly, the door slammed. I sat for a few minutes waiting for him to come back through the door and beg for forgiveness. It was our way of bandaging open wounds. He didn’t show up. I did not hear a knock to wake me out my blank space. Nearly twenty minutes, my ears rang from the silence and I grabbed my cell phone. “Hey, I need you to pick him up and bring him over here.” I tried to prevent my voice from sounding hurt. I hung up the phone and went to open another bottle of champagne.

A small rap on my door woke me out of my slumber and I didn’t care to look at the time. I opened the door and there my lover kneeled before me; my rude, snarky lover. He had a leather leash wrapped around his neck held by my chauffeur. Before I could say a word, he started to kiss my feet and bring his hands up and down my legs. Mumbles of apologies and remorse filled the hallway. I winked at my chauffeur, grabbed the leash and brought my lover inside. “Why would you say such rude things to me and think you could get away so easily?” I insisted, and kneeled on the floor before him, letting his steely eyes pierce into my gaze. I didn’t need him to know how desperate and lonely I was outside our little companionship. He didn’t need to understand how I needed him on top of my body, swinging my legs wide open or to the side.

Keeping a hold on the leash, I lay back on the floor and opened my legs. I was still in my little corset, but my panties were long gone. I pulled his leash towards me, bringing his head and body in my direction. Just watching his regret through his eyes turned me on. “I’m sorry,” he said lastly. “I want to show you.”

“I know you do.” I couldn’t tell if he was lying to appease me or genuinely out to satisfy me. There was only one way to tell.

He didn’t take his eyes off mine, and lowered his head to my hips. He planted small wet kisses across my abdomen and mound. His stare was intense but I didn’t look away. His hands gripped my hips and he moved closer to my pussy lips. His tongue slid across my wetness, slurping at my juices and letting my moans fill up the room. My hands raked over his head, and I started to lift my hips off the floor and rocked further into his face. I couldn’t stop moaning, the sensations were out of this world. He was telling me how apologetic he was with the way he closed his eyes and kissed his way through my orgasm. He licked through my shakes and slight explosion without a flinch or skip in his step.

The world we live in now, I am more surprised to see a faithful husband than one who is a complete rolling stone. We walk around looking for someone to love us and call our own without understanding humans are embedded with various needs one person cannot fulfill. I walk around wearing my wedding band with love and care on the outside. But on the inside, I yearn to have my body prized and touched by someone who is not obligated to me, someone who is not legally bounded to me. Deep down inside, I lived for infidelity. My pure essence, my entire being, longed to be with others I did not possess.


[published on Vinegar Strokes]


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