Teaser - Sara

Dangerous Awakening

     Delicious! I think, as my arms try to get closer to the enormous, round and firm butt of that pearlescent body, whose own hands haven’t tired of playing with my breasts. I don’t know how long we’ve been at this, and he still hasn’t entered me.

     Even his name is beautiful: Mazao. Mazao, my Japanese god. I liked him from the first moment I saw him at our children’s soccer game. I saw him yesterday, at the cafe where I order my latte on the way home from taking the kids to school, and now here we are. I don’t know how it happened.  He looks so handsome in his navy-blue suit, grey tie, white shirt and shiny black Bostonians. He seemed to have a perfect body under those clothes, and a smile capable of melting an iceberg, with teeth so perfect that even a toothpaste model would envy them.

     “You’re so beautiful. I can’t stop kissing you,” he says to me.

     I open my eyes for a moment and delight myself by admiring the man on top of me. He’s made by the hand of gods, dammit! He has strong and well-shaped arms, and they embrace me with a mix of passion and urgency that has me ecstatic. I hear him moan while he concentrates on my breasts, one by one. I feel his warm tongue circle them, slowly then faster, the nipples and the sides, back and forth. Every once in a while, he bites me slowly, with just the right amount of pressure and tenderness. Sucking and releasing, licking, biting, and repeating the cycle an infinite number of times, while the other hand is occupied, lower down, with my sex.

     “I’ve been waiting so long for this moment… You have a lovely body,” he says between moans.

     I feel the throb between my legs. This man seems in no hurry to fulfill my need to have him inside me.

     He has enormous, soft hands. Long, square, thick fingers. Like that, handsome, like that! I’m so wet they slide over me with utmost ease. He could enter my body like a hot knife cuts through butter, but no. He’s having fun making me wait and limits himself to placing a hand on my mons and slightly lower, moving from my pubis to the curve of my butt, feathering circular movements at the place where the storms converge. Enough, please, enter!

     But no. He removes his hand from my vulva, lets go of my breasts, opens my legs with his and braces his hips against mine, letting me feel all his weight and the enormous monster he has for a member. Hard, very hard, long and thick. Or, at least that’s how it feels to me. He bites me, licks and sucks my neck, my left earlobe, while at the same time grabbing my bottom and crushing me against him. He snorts. He actually snorts like a bull and it makes me even wetter. 

     He travels slowly down my abdomen and my legs. At last I have him where I’ve always wanted him, literally at my feet.

     “You have the most beautiful feet I’ve ever seen. You’re a queen from head to toe.”

     How does he know that footplay drives me crazy? It doesn’t matter as long as he doesn’t stop.  He massages my soles, licking my toes one by one. Sucking and nibbling, and the sound excites me. I feel his saliva running down my skin. His fingers sliding with agility. His tongue between my toes distracts me from my thoughts, and a moan escapes me.

     Enough. Stop. I need to feel your cock inside me or I will go crazy. I push the Asian god off me and he falls to my side. The time has come for me to take the reins. 

     I raise his hands above his head and kiss him with passion, pressing my breasts against his chest as I balance myself above him. I raise myself, separate his legs and sit between them. I admire his body for a few seconds and he smiles. My eyes travel from his face to his member. There it is. Beautiful, throbbing, so swollen it appears about to burst. It’s bigger than I imagined.

     My mouth and hands are drawn to that monster that seems to have a life of its own, and I begin to lick its length. “Sara… My Sara”, he barely whispers. I lick, suck and try to take him all the way down my throat, but it’s impossible. Mazao is the one to beg for entry now. I myself can wait no longer and straddle his hips.

     I can feel him at my entrance. Before I can ease him inside, Mazao raises his hips and enters me to the hilt. My insides burn, my breathing ceases, but I ride him as if my life depended on it. He massages my breasts, sustaining my gaze with his mouth slightly opened and his eyes blazing with passion. God, he is delectable.

     Up and down, up and down I move, rhythmic and greedy. Mazao holds my waist, pumping his hips up into me. I’m ready to come. Almost. I can feel it. Yes! Like that! Oh Gooood—

     “Momma! Momma! Wake up!” I hear my kids say. They’re jumping on the bed, my three children. Oh, no. No, no. I was so close…

     “Good morning, sweetheart,” says my husband, Peter. “Are you feeling ok? You were moaning in your sleep. Does anything hurt?”

     “Good morning, honey,” I manage to answer him. “Maybe. I don’t think dinner agreed with me.” I try not to let him see the dream I just had written on my face. 

     “Come on, guys,” he says to the kids. “Let’s get breakfast started and let mommy take a shower. What should we do this Sunday, eh? Shall we go to the park?”

     “Yeeess!” the children answer.

     Who would have thought that, at 39 years old, I’d be having wet dreams. And with the dad of my son’s friend! It makes no sense. You have everything, Sara. Shit, you’re married to Peter Johnson, the adorable and wonderful man you wanted since adolescence. You have three wonderful children, a boy and two girls, just like you always wanted. 

     I love my husband and my life, I do…but how can I put out this fire within me? My husband is perfect in every way, but he doesn’t satisfy me in bed. Not by any means—I have never even achieved an orgasm with him. It’s a good thing I’m cheerful and kind mannered, because if not, I don’t know what I would have done about it.

     Besides, I don’t think I’m unattractive… Peter loves my Afro hair – I need to make an appointment with Lana to get my highlights touched up– and my freckles from childhood. I know I only wear jeans, blouses, lipstick and mascara most of the time, but I have three kids, a dog, a house and a husband to take care of. 

     I remember the times when I use to sneak out with my youngest brother, Joseph. It was always a total adventure, from the moment we left the house through our bedroom windows while everyone slept. If David hadn’t been as bossy as a dad, and James hadn’t been so well behaved, all four of us could have had some epic fun. But it was just Joseph and me, always together. He hasn’t called me in a while. I wonder where the jacket I loaned my sister-in-law Myra is? I’ll ask David when I see him. 

     I never wanted to be the kind of girl that snuck out of the house at night, and maybe I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t been so repressed. My dear mother let my brothers do everything, but not me. For a girl, there were different expectations. According to Mathilda and John, my loving parents, women are born to be mothers and housewives. I’m not saying that’s worked out badly for me, given that I wasn’t that interested in school like my best friend Victoria.  Remember to send a message to Jessica and Vic.  Coffee with best friends renews the soul.

     “Hello?” Joseph answers after a few rings.

     “Little brother! Where have you been? If I don’t call you, I have no idea what’s going on in your life!”

     “There, there, take it easy, you sound more like Mathilda every day,” he laughs.

     “What can I say? I’m your mother’s daughter,” I chuckle with him. “Listen, I want to see you. Do you want to accompany us to the park today? I can ask Peter to bring the football.”

     “I’d love to, but I can’t. Jessica has told me there’s a slight imperfection in her new kitchen countertop  and I’m going over to help her today.”

     “You’re an angel, huh? If I didn’t know that you’ve been into DIY your whole life, I’d swear you’re into Jessica…”

     “This isn’t a nervous laugh, I promise. Tell me, have you heard from our brothers lately?”

     “James is still in the Congo as part of his activities at seminary, and David, well… If he isn’t at home with dad, he’s drinking, or fighting with Myra, or a combination of the two.”

     “Same as always.”

     “Same as always. Well, little brother, I have to go now. I blow you a kiss, and don’t forget to come visit your favorite sister.”

     “You’re my only sister…”

     “Hence your favorite.” We laugh together. “Love you, ciao.”

     This bed is a disaster. If someone were to walk in they’d think Peter and I had a good time… Pfff. Well, they say you learn from the cradle, right, Mathilda? You always said that I should save myself for my husband—that’s what you did and you never regretted it, always said that your wedding night was the best night of your life… Well, it wasn’t for me, mom! 

     Of course, I had pretty high expectations for my first time. I had already savored the sweet blunderings of one of my brother’s friends (without penetration), and I discovered orgasms practically by mistake one night in the shower. Oh, I need to change the hot water tap. But it was my wedding night! I assumed sex with penetration must be wonderful. It was with Peter, this wonderful guy I was totally in love with… Of course we had fooled around a little in our two-year relationship, but never much beyond passionate kisses and a little massaging of breasts. But the promise was there between us. What could go wrong?

     Well, everything, mom. Nothing was like you said. My in-laws gifted us with a night in the honeymoon suite of the Ocean Club Hotel on Cape May, a pretty and modern beachfront hotel they knew I wanted to visit. Up till then, everything had been good. The clue that something was wrong was when we got to the room, and Peter, yawning, had the audacity to say he was dead tired. I remember looking at him with such wide eyes that, any wider, and they would have fallen out of their sockets! I think he understood my confusion and upset, because he kissed me softly, and said that he was going to get a shower first so that he would be ready for me. I also took one. We still haven’t bought the beautiful tiles we both loved in that shower. That was definitely the highlight of that night.

     Ahh, but there I was, in my sexy white nightgown, the one Aunt Tessa gave me as a present, smelling of perfume and rose-scented soap. If I do say so, I looked pretty good… Light brown skin, big, vivacious, honey-colored eyes, nice, naturally shaped eyebrows. Straight nose, small, with a slightly wide base. Fleshy lips, white teeth and a wide smile. Not too tall and not too short. My torso is small, my breasts medium-sized but perky, and thin arms. A couple of freckles that made me look young—I’ve always loved my freckles—but now those wide hips, big, round buns, and thick legs make you look your age, Sara.

     My brand-new husband awaited me in a towel, lying on the bed. I neared him with feline grace – or at least that’s what I thought- and kissed him passionately. I was hoping he would take me right then, but Peter got really nervous, and at first, he couldn’t even get it up. (Disaster.) When he finally did, bing! bang! boom! And that was it. He came, he kissed me, rolled over and fell into a deep sleep. There was no romance nor passion as I would have expected on a wedding night. There were no sexual fireworks and I didn’t fall into an exhausted sleep with the sunrise after having made love all night….

     My husband didn’t touch me again until a week later and, with the difference that it was easier for him to get an erection, it was the same story. I tried to talk to him, tell him that I needed a little more foreplay, but outside of a few robotic caresses and a clumsy hand between my thighs, there was nothing. Sex toys? Not on your life! My husband took that as an insult and shouted that those things were not for a married woman, that we should leave those to young people. Meanwhile, we weren’t even thirty!

     Am I sorry? No. Peter is a model husband. He’s faithful, loving with me and the children, responsible. He’s given us a nice four-bedroom house in Bergenfield, New Jersey, where we have everything a parent could want: a highly rated school system, low level delinquency and a lot of outdoor activities that everyone can enjoy. We don’t want for anything.

     I love my children, I love my house, I love my surroundings. I wouldn’t change anything that’s happened up to now. Everything is perfect. Everything, except our sex life. 

     If it were up to me, I’d have sex three times a day.  

     At a very young age I realized that I have a fire inside me. That I’d ignite at the first mouth to kiss, lick, suck and bite just right. That I like strong, hard sex, up against the wall or floor or bed or whatever! Or at least I think I do, given that my dear Peter is not precisely ardent in the art of love.

     However, I don’t know how to sit still and wait for a miracle to happen. If I can’t have an orgasm with my husband, I’ll have one while fantasizing about someone I see in the street or the father of one of my son’s friends. I know how to satisfy myself; but I also know that I should stick to that. I don’t know what would happen if the temptation to carry out my fantasies in real life arrived at the right moment, in the right place, from the right person…

     At last, we’re all in the car and driving to the park. We’re going to Saun County Park, a beautiful place with enormous trees of different species, picnic areas, courts and a zoo, which makes for a lot of activities where the kids can run around, have fun and, most importantly, wear themselves out.

     I hope they fall asleep early. In the distance I watch Peter playing ball and running with the kids as if he were one of them.

     Peter. My Peter. He’s still a very attractive and well-preserved man for his 45 years. His six foot frame suits him. Sometimes I think he’s too white, but now he’s tanned from the sun. I love his brown hair threaded with silver, and I almost don’t notice the widow’s peak on his forehead. His face is square, which could give him a tough look, if it weren’t for those straight, bushy eyebrows framing smallish, royal blue eyes that always seem to smile. All three kids inherited that straight nose that sits perfectly symmetrical between both eyebrows, and I’ve always loved his profile. He has thin lips, nothing special; but when he smiles, it lights up his whole face, and you’d only guess his age if you look carefully and notice the fine wrinkles around his eyes.

     The little tummy that men get at a certain age has shrunk on him lately, as he’s lost a bit of weight.

     It’s probably because he runs around with kids, I think while laying out the snacks I brought for lunch: chopped fruit, salmon sandwiches, cheese cubes and iced tea served in some cute little individual crystal mugs.  I’ve always been a good cook, and everything looks neat and delicious.

     “Come and get it!” I shout. The kids run over, but not Peter.

     “Where’s daddy, honey?” I ask my oldest daughter.

     “His telephone rang, and he moved off a little to hear better, mommy.”

     I take a quick look and see Peter talking on the phone, holding the speaker close to his ear. An idea occurs to me.

     “I’ll be right back. I’m going to scare daddy,” I say to my children with a naughty smile on my face.

     I tiptoe up to Peter’s back and little by little the unfamiliar voice coming from the speaker of my husband’s phone becomes clearer.

     “You gave me the best fuck of my life and I can’t wait to have you between my legs again, my stallion. I never had so many orgasms in one night. You’re a wild beast!” 

     Peter turns a little, looking for the kids, and I struggle to hide the shock and disbelief on my face. I give him a weak smile and he waves back at me, none the wiser that I’ve just discovered the truth—and that it has changed everything.