Michele's Dark Destiny Ch. 02

At the same time, I was awed by Michele's complete understanding of the dynamic of the situation. Especially considering how much of it had remained mere innuendo until then. She obviously has a deep understanding of how human beings work. She was completely aware of the intensity of my fantasy, that it went far deeper than the role-playing we had enjoyed, and that it substantially predated her involvement. I realized once again that my wife is an extremely intelligent woman and I felt stripped naked before her.

I sought middle ground: "Michele, you're right. I have been part of this from the beginning, the instigator. It just happened so quickly! That one night you were acting prudish, then within half an hour you were hotter than I had ever seen you before. Yes, it has been a fantasy of mine for years, but it all developed so quickly after that night. Like gasoline poured on a fire. Maybe we have both let these thoughts go too far, and I'm sorry if I promoted it. Fantasies are exciting, but that doesn't mean we wish them to come true."

"That's all correct," she retorted. "You should watch what you wish for."

Feelings of shame and embarrassment washed over me.

"Are you ashamed of me?" I asked sheepishly. "Ashamed of my fantasies?"

She responded, "Like I said, I have never judged you. Everybody has fantasies they might not want others to know about, but you deliberately brought me into yours. People aren't always in control of these things - they are rooted deep in our biochemistry, and our subconscious. The information is there, latent, waiting to be awakened by experiences or even thoughts. The problem is that it's impossible to put the genie back in the bottle."

I felt unsettled by the cold, scientific nature of Michele's analysis. "So how do we control this 'information', or whatever?" I inquired, nervously.

"We can't, entirely. The only thing we can do is to remove the guilt and conflict that can arise," she responded.

"How?" I continued.

"By accepting it and removing it permanently from the subconscious to the conscious. But enough for now...we will talk this out when we get home." She gave me a tentative smile.

I wasn't quite able to make sense of the 'subconscious to conscious' comment, but I was happy that some of the tension between us had dissipated, even if her demeanor remained cold and dismissive.

He returned to our table shortly thereafter, eliciting a warm smile from Michele. It was about 6:30.

"Well, as usual my traveling companions have made friends!" Derek observed with a raised eyebrow. We looked over to see the four of them getting along famously. I was able to get a better view: one was a sultry Latina; the other a tall, bronzed beauty with auburn hair. Both were extremely pretty, with beautiful bodies in sexy shorts and tops. The four of them seemed to be getting ready to leave.

"They're heading out to dinner, and then the clubs," Derek explained. "I can never control those dogs! And who am I to keep them on a leash, anyway? Their dad?" We all laughed.

I admired his (seeming) modesty, since while the other two were nice looking men, Derek was more ruggedly handsome in the face, taller and better built, and held more gravitas than either. This was confirmed by the multitude of women I had observed checking him out since he first arrived.

Then I made a decision: "Hey you two! I'm getting hungry and I'm ready for some new scenery. What do you say we head down to that place by the marina? I hear the food is excellent, and it's on me. Actually, it's on Gross, Schwarz, Johnson!"

"Well, I don't want to interfere with your evening," Derek replied. "I should probably head for one of the clubs myself - maybe I'll get lucky like those two!" We all laughed again.

"Oh, don't worry about it," I insisted. "You're more than welcome and we would both love to have you. Wouldn't we, Michele?" I asked pointedly.

"Well, uh, yeah. That would be wonderful..." she agreed, stumbling over her words somewhat. "We all get along great and we'd hate to see you alone for the night." She had a nervous look on her face, trying to figure out what she had just said.

"I'd love to!" Derek concluded with a smile.

I settled the bill to our guest account and we headed out, enjoying one last view of the 'Finisterre', crowned by the vast dome of the sky. The sun was resplendent in her final descent, sending forth desperate shafts of light through the clouds glowing shades of pink and gold; the deep Pacific waited with open arms to receive her. The harbor was a dark, inky blue below us, dotted with seacraft making their way in to nest for the evening. Around the harbor the twilit town glinted with lights coming on beneath the earthy hills beyond, and everywhere was the energetic din of friends and lovers enjoying themselves. Halfway across the dome the light was failing, absorbed by ever-changing shades of blue, darkening but clear, stars igniting. To the East the night was rising.

The road to the marina snaked to and fro down the hill, but to the side was a shortcut: a pathway down the barren hillside beautifully paved with stones and steps, lined with desert flora. After about a hundred yards it passed our cabana. I suggested we stop for a moment so I could swap my sandals for shoes. Michele agreed, as she wanted to freshen up. We headed over, our guest in tow. Once inside, she asked Derek if he needed to use the bathroom, intending to let our guest go first.

"Nope, I'm good!" he said, and stepped out onto the veranda.

Michele then went in, leaving the door open. I watched her apply a touch of lip-gloss, then give her hair a quick run-through with her brush, the flowing, sunkissed silk cascading to her shoulders. I had switched my sandals for shoes as intended, and then went into the bathroom to relieve myself after Michele had come out.

As I reentered the room I stopped short, my entire body suddenly flushed by a jolt of adrenaline as I instantly realized what was happening. The experience of months before flashed before me, as did everything that came after, culminating in the heart-to-heart Michele and I had just had. My heart pounded.

The two of them were by the veranda doors. Derek was standing closely behind Michele, his massive, black hands clamped firmly on her hips. He gazed at me intensely over her shoulder, Michele's expression betraying a sense of surprised terror and excitement.

She peered down at his hands, then placed hers so as to push them off her body: the sight of her long, graceful fingers struggling on his dark hands was electric. No doubt her helpless resistance merely resulted in an even stronger grip. Her lips were slightly parted and her brow arched. She looked dazed, as if she wanted to say something but could not muster the breath to communicate.

I could not only feel my heart pounding, I could hear it! My deepest desire, our deepest desire, was coalescing right there. 'How could this be happening?' I thought. But then my mind answered, 'How could it not be?' After all that had happened we must have left numerous markers that he picked up on. He had to have known or at least suspected everything, culminating in our inviting him along to 'dinner'. Michele's eyes pleaded with mine, I assumed to interfere, to stop him in his tracks, but I was spellbound, frozen in place.

Derek took this as permission to proceed as he kissed Michele's shoulder from behind. I could see her lips quiver as a soft sigh escaped. Then I could see her tremble at his touch as he slowly ascended her neck with his wide, full lips. Pulling her hair back with his fingers he whispered into her ear from behind, a shadow of a smile crossing her lips as she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, her reluctance evaporating in his grip.

She leaned her head to her right, offering him access to her smooth shoulder and neck. Her eyes reopened, their green fire burning through mine before falling down again to the mighty hands on her curves. Her own hands surrendered, melting lovingly onto his, caressing them as they caressed her. Her gaze met mine again, and she held it.

With Derek still behind her, his hands inched forward to her lower tummy. Michele turned her face to the side and up. He lifted one hand to caress her neck before gently covering her face with kisses, ending at her lips. Their mouths toyed with each other, brushing and probing, sucking and nibbling on each other's lips and tongues in turn. Then his tongue established dominance and I could tell it was in her throat. She moaned and whimpered, struggling for air through her nose. Finally their kiss broke, Michele gasping for air.

He then took her by the wrists, pulling them tightly behind and marching her over to the foot of the bed. Her eyes never left mine on the journey over. They looked immensely excited, though confused. Still I said nothing, locked in passivity, hard as a rock. Derek calmly lifted the neckloop of the dress over her head and began to slide the snug fabric down her sides. Michele hesitated for a brief moment, then moved her body rhythmically to assist, arching her back and lifting her chest as her breasts were uncovered.

They looked so beautiful! Smooth, firm, and proud above the green fabric gathered beneath them. His hands eased the dress down her sides, caressing the soft skin of her ribcage as it was revealed, inching the clinging fabric down until it settled on her flared hips. Then he took her breasts in his black hands and held them, softly caressing them, kneading them. After enjoying their firm fullness he moved to her nipples, the areolas pink, puffy and swollen, their tips rock-hard, her breathing ragged. He worked them relentlessly, drawing out whimpers and squeals. Michele clenched her bottom tight, placing her hands on his strong, lean, veiny forearms: everything about him was hard, dark, and phallic.

After minutes of having her breasts worked tenderly and then roughly, Michele turned her body toward him. She lifted her face to his, her head cocked slightly to the side. How I loved it when she gave me that look. When she was feeling pensive or tender, she would tilt her head to the side and raise her radiant eyes to mine. Then I would hold her close, kiss her forehead.

Now she was giving that look to him, and it said more. I could see not only warmth, but fear. She was shaking from head to toe as she stood, half-naked, before this powerful black man. She reached out, placing her hands on his chest, and with slow, nervous fingers she uncovered him button by button. Then she simply stared, marveling at the impenetrable darkness of his torso.

"Oh, God..." she murmured.

Derek smiled down on her. With a nervous smile in return, Michele reached up and stroked his face: his cheekbones; his jaw; his chin. His face was calm, confident, yet full of desire. Down the strong, sinuous neck to his collar bones she traced her fingers. Then out to his shoulders, down his ripped arms, and back up to his magnificent chest. She stared as she caressed his smooth, dark skin, her breath whistling in her throat, her beautiful hips swaying slowly into the void between their bodies.

"Oh, God..." she repeated in a soft voice, her eyes surveying the dark ridges and valleys of his arms, shoulders, and torso. "Such perfection." Placing kisses all over him, she then set her tight bottom down on the edge of the bed, her green dress still clinging to her golden hips.

Derek stepped forward until he was poised between Michele's spread knees. She placed more kisses on his hard abdomen, tracing the cleft down the center with her index fingers, then fanning all fingers over his sharply defined abs to his hips. Then the fingers of her right hand settled on the bulge heading down his left leg before she undid his belt, unzipped the fly and clasp, and watched as his slacks slid down his muscular thighs. He stepped out of his slacks and loafers as she tugged at his boxers. There was absolute silence as Derek's cock was uncovered, the look on Michele's face one of surprise and apprehension. He was at least as long as her 'Mandingo Phallus', and undoubtedly thicker.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

She continued in silence, staring, as if in a trance, until he brushed her cheek with his fingers.

"Yes..." she said wistfully, her eyes still locked on his dark organ. "It's beautiful..."

She reached out with her fingers to touch it, but as they drew near she hesitated. Then, with lips parted and long, lanquid breaths, she ran her fingers tenderly up and down its engorged length. Derek in turn began to run his fingers slowly through her hair.

"Is it what you expected?" he continued.

Michele continued to study the shaft, lightly dancing her fingernails on its dark, firm, veiny skin.

"It's more. It's like a dream," she responded, weakly, sliding her tight bottom off of the bed so that she was on her knees before him. "A hot, wet, dark dream..."

The combination of her gentle touch and rapt, lustful words was having a strong effect on Derek. He, too, was short of breath, his hard body glinting with increasing perspiration, his awesome manhood clearly throbbing with every beat of his heart. He took Michele's hands in his own, then brushed his rigid darkness along her collarbones, up her neck, and all over her face. She gasped and trembled with excitement as his phallus repeatedly kissed her pretty face, sometimes sliding smoothly over, sometimes clinging to and then skipping across her skin. Michele would never, ever let me do such a base thing to her, but the look on her face spoke of arousal the likes of which she had never known before.

And with Derek it was not base. It was right and ritual. I watched, spellbound, thinking of all the times I had marveled proudly at my girlfriend, fiancée, and then wife's beauty, and here she was on her knees in submission, letting a powerful black man rub his massive cock all over her face. It was indescribably hot, my difficult emotions negated by the erotic power of it all as I watched in silent, accepting awe.

After what seemed like minutes of teasing, Derek pressed the head against Michele's lips. As the flared, helmet-head pushed past their soft, succulent resistance, I heard a muffled whimper followed by a wet, stopping sound as her throat was plugged. The two of them remained motionless for about thirty seconds, Michele's green eyes twinkling up at him in wordless adoration.

Finally, with labored breath Derek withdrew, slowly, almost to the head, before pressing back in. Again I heard the stopping suction as Michele's throat was plugged, followed by wet breathing through her nose. They were still again, Michele's dewy eyes locking on mine. Again he withdrew and pushed in, and again, falling into rhythm as Michele adapted to what he was doing to her. She knew exactly what to do, slackening her wet lips, letting them drag softly over the dark, veiny shaft as he withdrew, until her throat was plugged again. Over and over, with Derek alternately running his fingers through her hair, and caressing her face as he fucked it.

He went deeper and deeper into her eager throat, no doubt more in awe of her skills than I was. Sometimes she would pull it out and rub it all over her face in sexual rapture. 'Where did she learn to do all of this?' I thought, the sight and sounds of my Michele worshipping the Dark Phallus abusing my heart to where I thought it would burst. After several minutes of experiencing this beautiful submission of White Woman to Black Man, Derek was ready to take her.

"Tell me what you want, Michele," he asked in his deep, soft voice.

At that moment, deep in the core of my being, a voice of reason silently cried out: 'Stop!' This was incredibly hot, but it was too intense. Part of me wanted it to stop. At least to hear my Michele gain control. Perhaps to say she wanted him to come in her mouth, and then to be done with it.

But she didn't say that. Rather, she pulled him out with a wet pop, then rubbed the dark, veiny, saliva-glazed shaft and flared head all over her pretty face.

"So hot...so black..." she replied, softly. "So strong! I want you inside me..."

Derek smiled, "What does this sweet girl want?"

"She wants to be fucked," Michele said, her voice cracking.

"What does she want?" he continued, leading her on.

Her face was blank and dreamy. "Black cock..," she whimpered, her voice wavering, her breasts rising and falling. "She wants black cock..."

"Her first?" he asked.

She nodded in the affirmative.

"Good girl," he said in a breathy voice.

Michele turned around, clambering up onto the bed and setting her knees on the edge where her bottom had been moments before. Derek stood behind her, his lean, powerful arms wrapped tightly around her frame with his cock pressed against her back.

Compelled by an unseen force, I moved and sat on the side of the bed within reach of their bodies. I studied the golden contours of Michele's sleek curves, and the equally beautiful lines of Derek's dark, chiseled physique. They were complementary. So different in every way, and yet a perfect match: soft and hard; golden and dark; submissive and dominant; feminine and masculine. Each was the archetype of their respective gender. They were a breathtaking complement to each other and I instinctively recognized their natural, irresistible attraction.

Derek nuzzled the back of Michele's neck, then buried his face in her hair. He moved down her spine, gently kissing paths outward to her shoulder blades. She was whimpering as she lowered her breasts and head to the bed, arching her back and lifting her sweet bottom. He continued, kissing and licking her back. He slid his hands under her dress, still clinging to her hips and ass, pushing it up so that it was like a gathered, green band around her waist. Then he took her round bottom in his hands, one smooth, toned cheek in each. He kissed the back of her thighs from behind, then her gorgeous cheeks, then finally her panty-covered pussy. He locked his fingers under her panties and peeled them off, tossing them over. I held the wet, fragrant fabric to my face.

"Damn, you're beautiful..." he said, breathlessly.

Yes, she was! Her outer lips were soft, supple, and flushed; her purplish inner lips engorged and firm, protruding slightly, parted and symmetrical. Her swollen flesh glistened with excitement, her perfectly manicured golden bush underneath. Again he kissed her bottom, then the backs of her thighs, then her inner thighs, then all around her puffy mound. Finally, he took the tip of his tongue and touched her clit, slowly dragging it up through her slit to her anus. She gasped and whined in excitement, thrusting into in his face as he worked her up and down, pulling her clit and lips with his teeth, lapping at them with his tongue, then softly lashing her crinkled hole. I had never seen her so ready and open prior to penetration.

"Pleeeaaase..." she cried.

"Please, what?" Derek asked.

"Please put it in my body..." Michele responded. "Fill me...fuck me..."

Michele was looking over her right shoulder at me, her glassy eyes in another dimension. Her face was wild and full of lust, yet there was a sadness, too, as if begging for forgiveness.

Derek set himself firmly behind her, pushing her knees far apart with his to where she was completely spread and vulnerable before him. I moved up, placed a pillow before her, then kissed her forehead while taking her hand in mine. "It's what you want, what we have fantasized about. Give in to him, Michele. You deserve what only a man like him can give," I said softly.

She remained silent, settling her head into the pillow, arching her back further, offering herself to her Dark Conqueror. I could feel her tremble in anticipation as he rubbed his shaft all over her thighs and bottom, wiping the head up and down in her steaming slit until it glistened with her juices, then dragging it over her tight anus and cheeks. Finally he pulled her arms so that her hand left mine, taking her wrists and holding them firmly against the small of her back. He pressed the head of his cock against her opening. Again Michele looked at me with a sadness as if saying 'goodbye'...and he took her.