Chapter 4

Author’s note- Thank you so much for reading! I truly hope you enjoyed this story, and I so appreciate you taking the time to spend with these characters. Your support on Patreon makes writing these stories possible, and every comment, like, and pledge keeps my heart full and my muse happy. Thank you for being here!

- MJ

We’re lost in the moment, our tongues dancing, our breaths mingling. I know where her lips were wrapped around just moments ago, making this kiss even more intense. Her hands wrap around my head, pulling me closer, her fingers tangling in my hair.

She moans into my mouth, her body grinding against mine, and I’m consumed by her, by us, by this wild and unpredictable night.

“Alright, lovebirds, water break.”

I glance over her shoulder to see Marcus standing there, a glass of water in his hand, a knowing smile playing on his lips– his nakedness, no longer a shock, somehow blending into the surreal landscape of the night.

“Thanks.” Emma takes the glass from him, slumping back on the couch beside me, her movements a little unsteady, a little too languid.

She gulps down the water in one long swallow, a few droplets escaping her lips to trace a path down her chin and she hastily wipes them away with the back of her hand.

“Gods, that feels good,” she sighs, setting the empty glass on the coffee table.

Marcus picks up the half-smoked joint from the table, lights it with a flick of his lighter, and takes a long, slow drag. “Anyone else?”

“Pass it here.”

He passes the joint to her without a word, and she inhales deeply, her chest rising and falling as she fills her lungs with smoke, her eyes half-closed as she savors the familiar sensation.

I glance around, searching for my own, but it seems to have disappeared in the chaos of the past few minutes. Emma catches my eye and hands me hers.

We sit in silence for a while, the only sounds are the soft crackle of the burning weed and the gentle hum of the air conditioner. The room is hazy, the air thick with a mix of smoke and the lingering scent of sex.

Emma sighs deeply, her gaze landing on Marcus’s shaft, glistening with a mix of his pre-cum and her juices.

“Still ready to go, huh?” She chuckles softly, a hint of wonder in her voice.

“Seems so.”

“Impressive,” she says, licking her lips.

“Just one of my many talents.”

“Wow.” She shakes her head. “Maybe ... maybe we need to get you a medal or something.”

He chuckles. “Just one of the perks of being dark. I can last longer.”

“Time for round two, then?”

“Why don’t you give me a little more of that sweet mouth first, hmm? I want to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me one more time before I sink into that delicious pussy of yours.”

Without a word, she sits forward, her body a wave of motion, a silent invitation. Marcus steps closer, his massive frame towering over her. The monster between his legs sways slightly as he moves, the head glistening with a thick coating of her juices. His heavy, full melons swing gently, brushing against his thigh, a testament to his potency.

It’s then that I notice it: the way his cock and balls are coated in a thick, creamy residue. It’s hers, the evidence of her earlier climax, smeared across his dark flesh, it was such a beautiful contrast.

And suddenly, the realization hits me— he’s making her taste herself.

And she doesn’t seem to mind. Not one bit.

Emma’s hands reach for him, her touch eager, unhesitating. I watch, mesmerized, as she begins to stroke him, her small hands dwarfed by the sheer size of him, her fingers tracing the veins that pulse beneath her touch. He’s obscene, this man. A walking monument to masculinity.

She doesn’t have to spit on him now; he’s already slick with her own juices, the evidence of her need a glistening sheen on his dark skin.

He smears the head of his cock against her wet lips, dragging it slowly, deliberately across her flushed cheeks, her eyelids, leaving a glistening trail of her own juices and his pre-cum. And then, he slaps her lightly with his cock, once, twice, the sound sharp in the quiet room, her giggles a counterpoint to the rising tension.

“So ... how do you taste?” I can’t help but ask, the question tumbling from my lips before I can stop it. “Told you taste amazing, didn’t I?”

“Oh, stop it, Mike.”

“Come on, Em.” I grin. “We both know it is.”

“I have to agree with Mike on this one,” our neighbor adds.

“How would you know?” She challenges, her gaze meeting his. “You haven’t had a taste of the goods yet.”

“Call it an... educated guess.”

He brings his cock back to her mouth, pushing past her lips, and she takes him in with an obscenely eager slurp, her tongue swirling, her cheeks hollowing. Saliva spills down her chin, a silver thread that catches the light. She didn’t care.

This time, Marcus doesn’t dictate the rhythm. He lets her set the pace, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders, guiding but not forcing.

And Emma ... well, she goes off.

She treats his cock like a starving woman presented with a feast— her tongue lapping, her lips sucking, her hands working his shaft with a fervor that makes my blood rush.

Her attention shifts to his balls, her fingers squeezing and caressing them, exploring their weight, their texture, as if she’s molding clay. His cum-filled sack, dark and leathery, is soon slick with her spit, her tongue darting out to taste him, to devour him.

“Mmmmpppphhh ... ahhnnnn ... hhhnnnn...”

“You like sucking on those, don’t you, dear?”

Emma doesn’t answer. She can’t answer. Her mouth is full. But she hums in agreement, a low, throaty sound that vibrates against his flesh. Contented squeals escape her lips between licks and sucks, the sounds filling the room.

She begins bobbing her head up and down while her hands stroke the length her mouth couldn’t cover.

For the next few minutes, she devours him. Licking, sucking, kissing, her movements a practiced ballet of oral worship.

She’s never been this ... this hungry. This desperate.

The thought hits me with a force that it makes me want to both shout and come at the same time.

The Emma I know, the woman I married, would never...

But that Emma is gone.

And the woman who’s taken her place ... this creature of want and need, this slut who can’t get enough ... she’s intoxicating.

It’s not just the weed. Sure, it loosened her up, made everything feel intense, and blurred all the lines. But nah, that’s not what’s driving her. There’s this primal hunger in her, you know? Something raw and wild that’s got nothing to do with being high.

My wife is freaking drunk on his dick, lost to the flavor of the dark meat lodged in her pretty little throat. Like, she can’t get enough of it. It’s like she’s possessed, and all she wants is more of him.

It’s insane, but fuck, it’s hot as hell to watch.

Her pupils are blown wide like she’s hypnotized, her gaze locked onto his cock with this insane intensity. She’s swaying slightly, totally lost in working him with her mouth and hands. Her lips are swollen and shiny with spit, and every now and then, her tongue darts out to catch a bead of pre-cum, this greedy little move that makes my cock fucking throb.

Emma’s head bobs, a frantic, desperate rhythm dictated by her own need, not his. Marcus’s hand rests on the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair, holding her steady, but he’s not forcing her. He doesn’t need to.

Her enthusiasm is off the charts, and her hunger is a force of nature. Her hands grip the base of his cock, massaging his balls as she slides up and down, her mouth a wet, hungry vacuum.

Drool spills from her lips, a glistening trail that traces a path down his shaft, a testament to her devotion. Her lips are stretched obscenely wide, her eyes squeezed shut in a mask of concentration, and the sight of it, the sheer wrongness of it, sends a thrill through me that’s as dark as it is unavoidable.

“That’s it, sweetheart...” Marcus groans, his voice thick with desire, his eyes burning into her. “Yeah... perfect. You’re so hungry for it ... suck it, Emma ... take it deeper, girl... ughh ... I know you can do it...”

“Mmmmphhh ... Ahhnnnn ... Hhhnnnn...”

“Ahh dammnn you are built for this cock.”

His words are like gasoline on a fire. She lowers her head further, stuffing more of his dark length into her small mouth. Her throat spasms and gags, eyes rolling back, forming a pretty red circle around his dark phallus.

She sucks harder, faster, a people-pleaser to her core. It’s something I’ve always known about her, something that drew me to her in the first place. The need to please, to give. A product of her upbringing, of overbearing parents who demanded perfection, who’d never allowed her to truly own her desires.

And now ... she’s giving that need, that hunger, to another man.

“Fuck, Emma, you’re a natural,” Marcus grunts, his hips thrusting forward, driving his cock deeper into her throat. “You were born to suck cock, weren’t you, baby?”

“Mmphhh ... hhpphhh”

The sight of it, the sounds of it, make my balls tingle. It’s a strange mix of pride, jealousy, and a dark excitement that I can’t shake, and like always can’t even begin to understand.

“Whew... “ She pulls back with a final, debauched slurp, her cheeks flushed, her lips glistening. “You’re a machine, Marcus ... Seriously ... you’re still hard?’’

“Don’t tell me ... You were expecting me to finish already?”

“No ... that’s not what I...” She gestures vaguely towards his impressive erection, unable to find the words. “I just ... I mean ... after all that ... you’re still...”

“You wanted to see if you could get me off with just your mouth?”

“Maybe...”

“Believe me, sweetheart, if you keep going like that, I’ll be shooting my load across the room in no time.” He chuckles, his gaze teasing. “That mouth of yours ... it’s dangerous.”

“I thought you’d like that...”

“Oh, I would. But I’ve got other plans for you tonight. Unless ... you want me to finish in your mouth?’’

“I didn’t say that. I just ... I wanted to see if...”

“See if you could handle me?” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. “If you could make me beg for it?’’

“Maybe.” She shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

He laughs a low rumble that vibrates through the room. “So, what’s the verdict? You want me to finish in your mouth?”

Emma glances over at me, a question in her eyes. I didn’t know we were offering options now.

“Honey, can you scoot over a little? Need some space.”

I slide to the corner of the sofa, my body buzzing with tension I can’t control. My gaze is fixed on her as she reaches for the hem of her blouse, pulling it over her head. Her bra follows a tangle of lace and satin that lands on the floor with a soft thud.

Her globes are magnificent—full, and round, the skin smooth and pale, tipped with impossibly hard nipples, peaked invitingly from her recent orgasm that makes my mouth water. They’re perfect— the kind of breasts that make a man want to bury his face, to worship, to lose himself in their softness.

She runs her hands over her body, squeezing her breasts, her fingers lingering on the sensitive tips. Then, she leans back against the cushions and hikes her skirt up around her waist, her gaze fixed on Marcus’s cock, a hungry, unabashed look in her eyes.

“How about a second serving of that delicious chocolate then?” Emma purrs.

My gaze drops to her pussy, already soppy and glistening, her inner lips swollen, the entrance gaping slightly. Ready for him.

Marcus takes a step forward, his gaze sweeping over her exposed body. But then, instead of lowering himself onto the sofa, he squats down, grabbing her legs at the knees, and yanks her forward.

“Whoa!” Emma shrieks, her body sliding down the cushions until she’s practically folded in half, her legs splayed in the air. “What are you doing?!”

“Getting you in position,” he replies with a grin, his voice laced with a playful dominance. “Gotta make sure you can take all of me this time.”

He pushes her legs back, bending her almost double, until her knees are near her shoulders, her ass high in the air. She’s a vision of wanton abandon, her skirt bunched up around her waist, her pussy gaping open, the pink puckering of her asshole on full display shamelessly.