Yes, Papi

Yes, Papi

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance


Status: Finished

Genre: Romance


Yes, Papi – okay, Malea knew she was wrong for wanting to get with Juan. He’s her best friend’s husband. But how many times had she had to hear about his cheating ass? His wife never left him, and she never would. So if she was knowingly sharing his dick anyway, why not share with her friends? visit for more from this author


Yes, Papi – okay, Malea knew she was wrong for wanting to get with Juan. He’s her best friend’s husband. But how many times had she had to hear about his cheating ass? His wife never left him, and she never would. So if she was knowingly sharing his dick anyway, why not share with her friends?

visit for more from this author


Submitted: March 21, 2017

A A A | A A A


Submitted: March 21, 2017



I was so rattled by the time I got to the check-in counter, the woman behind the desk had to ask me three times if she could help me. I apologized and asked her for a room.

It wasn’t the kind of place where I needed to feel embarrassed about asking for a room for just a few hours in the middle of the day. Actually, I’m not too easily embarrassed about anything I do. I’m grown; who, when and where I choose to fuck is nobody’s business but my own.  

But the fact that Brianna had given me a call just as I was opening the door to the lobby [TJ1] had me so thrown that I barely even saw the check-in clerk. She could have thrown holy water in my face and it might not have registered.

I thought about it all the way up to the second floor. How had Brianna known to call me at that exact moment? She hadn’t even wanted anything; she’d just called to talk.

Now, I definitely had friends that reached out merely to chit chat. A lot of us had jobs we worked hard to get only to find that once we got our positions, there really wasn’t that much to do. Not if you knew how to delegate, which we all did.

So we spent a good amount of time during the work day just shooting the shit with one another. If any of them were to call me out of the blue on a week day, I would think nothing of it.

But Brianna wasn’t that type. She had a high-powered job, and to let her tell it, she didn’t get any free time in her day. I always thought she was either exaggerating or needed to take a management class to learn how to delegate responsibility to her staff. In any case, I knew Brianna didn’t do things just to be doing them. Everything she did had a purpose.[TJ2] 

So why had she called?

I knew for certain that I hadn’t done anything to make Brianna suspect me of doing something foul. We hadn’t spoken in a week, and even the call just now had been a hurried “Hey, how you doing?” before she had to go.

But what if he had let it slip? Brianna was my best friend, so I’d heard more than my share of stories about the way her husband always left signs when he was cheating.

Juan was a whore, but not a very good one. At least he wasn’t good at not being caught by his wife.

I could never decide if that was because he couldn’t think ahead, or he just didn’t give a damn. Brianna had left him and come back so many times, he knew what we all knew: that she loved his dirty drawers and was never going to leave him because of another woman.

But I never thought I would be one of those women.

After so many years of hearing about her husband’s exploits—in graphic detail delivered by various females who had taken malicious pleasure in informing  Brianna how good Juan fucked them when she wasn’t looking—I began to get curious myself. Brianna was more of the modest type; she never gave a lot of details about her and Juan’s sex life. But whenever she told me about the latest girl she’d found out about, she gave me every intimate detail she’d been given.

I’d even asked Brianna once if she thought Juan did things with his side-pieces that he didn’t do with her. “Of course they do,” she admitted straight out. “Juan and I have discussed it, many times, and that’s his primary excuse for cheating on me. But Malea, I don’t care. There are certain things I just don’t do, and I shouldn’t have to be in some kind of sick sexual competition to hold on to my own husband. Like I told him, if he just has to have all that, he can go out there and fuck those hoes sideways. But he better make damn sure that they know he knows where home is, and he better not be wasting my money on a single one of those bitches.” 

I watched my old friend raise her chin up a bit, trying to convince herself of her own lie. “Whatever Juan gets them to let him do to those girls is their problem, not mine.  My issue is when he allows his side pieces to throw the shit up in my face. If the pathetic ass mistresses he screws around with were willing to play the position they settled for, and respect mine as the real woman in Juan’s life, then I wouldn’t have to know or care what or who he’s out there doing.”

But even as Brianna refused to admit it even to herself, I knew she did care.  I knew her too well not to know that, just like she didn’t have to tell me what things she wouldn’t do with Juan. We had had that conversation so many times, I’d long since stopped trying to school her. Brianna has an issue with oral, and she won’t even try anal. Her mother and grandmother had her believing that as long as she was willing to spread her legs, her husband should be satisfied.

My mother and grandmother were more practical. I was taught that what you won’t do, the next one will, and that you have to do the same things to keep a man that you did to get him. So cook the man something decent to eat, but make sure you look presentable and like you barely touch any of that fattening food. Remember he has needs; don’t turn him down all the time, and suck his dick like you mean it every once in a while. Basically, don’t give him any reason to stray, but don’t ask questions if you don’t want to deal with the answer.

Brianna was quick to point out that both my mother and grandmother had been married three times apiece while her parents and grandparents were still married to each other. But I’d seen her mother, who was only two years older than my own. Yet the woman looked about fifteen years my mother’s senior. To each her own, but if following all those boring-ass rules meant that I was going to end up looking like an old-ass woman before my time, then no thank you.

Once I found myself begin to think about Juan, it seemed like I saw him everywhere. I had a live-in situation too, and Brianna and I and the guys hung out quite a bit. I found myself noticing how Juan looked when he came into the room and the way his clothes always seemed to be caressing his body. He was beautiful, in a very masculine way.

I’d told Brianna that her man had swagger even before she married him. She corrected me, saying that since he was Bolivian he had machismo, not swagger. Swagger was something you said about black guys. Call it what you wanted, Juan gave mad presence just by stepping into the room. I don’t know why Brianna had thought that kind of man would ever be faithful to her.

I endured a full three months of fantasizing about screwing my best friend’s husband before Juan noticed me noticing him. We[TJ3]  were all at a holiday cocktail party and I was beyond bored. It was the same old people telling the same old lies. Everybody was trying to look like they were prosperous, yet we all checked out each other’s shoes and bags looking for the counterfeits, while trying to discreetly hide our own. So tedious, I don’t know why we do it.

As a guy I’d gone to school with was trying to tell me the same corny story he’d told me since we met, I found myself staring at Juan across the room. I watched as he tried to pretend to be talking to my friend—his wife—while really checking out the ass of every woman who went by. I could tell by his expressions whether he approved of the ass he saw, and it made me giggle when he clearly didn’t like what was on display.

Juan looked up in time to see me watching, and made a face that plainly said he knew I knew what he was doing. And I agreed with his last assessment: the fat ass that had just gone by was big in all the wrong ways and needed a girdle to bring down the jiggle. I laughed out loud, and corny guy thought I was finally getting his joke.

It was almost the end of the party before Juan and I got close enough to speak. Brianna wanted to talk to me and do our usual end of the party gossip. But I barely heard her talk about our mutual friend’s bad weave because I could feel her husband looking at me. Not directly, at least not for very long. But long enough that I knew Juan was thinking about me.

I love that sensation when I know a handsome man is feeling me. Usually, it makes me smile and show him my dimples. But that was my friend’s husband and I knew she loved him. Having harmless fantasies in my own head was one thing. But being the girl who fucked a close friend’s husband wasn’t a role I saw myself cast in.

Juan didn’t see it that way, however, and he definitely went out of his way to seek me out that evening.  Nothig obvious that would upset either of our partners, who were both right there in the room with us, socializing and completely unaware of the sexy little game Juan had drawn me into.  He kept finding his way to my ear to deliver little whispered comments that only I could hear that left me squirming with forbidden desire for the one man in the room I knew I absolutely shouldn’t touch.

Despite his flirting, Juan and I didn’t really exchange a wrong word that night, but it was definitely the beginning of the end. Once he knew I was interested, he decided to convince me I should go with my instincts. I eventually got to see what he unleashed on all those girls who were sprung on him, and understood why they were not only willing to sleep with this married man, but some of them got desperate enough to call his wife and tell her about it. They thought maybe they could take her spot if she got pissed enough to leave.

I didn’t want her spot. I loved Brianna, but more than that, I didn’t want to be in her position. No matter what woman Juan tried to commit to, he was never going to be faithful. And being the scorned wife, crying to all my friends about my cheating husband so often that they tried to avoid me, did not appeal to me.

However, the husband in question did. Very, very much. I want to say I made him work for it, but in reality he only had to ask me twice before I agreed to meet with him.

That had been four days ago, four days in which I looked forward to meeting him in that rundown motel. My anticipation of seeing her husband’s dick was part of the reason I hadn’t talked to Brianna much in the last week.

Restless, I glanced at my watch. Shit, I was already fifteen minutes into my lunch hour and Juan still wasn’t there. Surely I hadn’t gone through all the trouble of ditching work and lying to everybody I knew to be stood up?

Juan’s dick better be gold, I thought irritably to myself, because he for damn sure isn’t punctual.[TJ4] 

Like a scene out of a movie, as soon as I finished the thought, Juan knocked on the door. I let him wait a beat before I opened it. I didn’t want it to look like I’d been waiting for him and was too eager.

The first thing I saw was Juan’s smile, and I got a little dazed just staring at his pretty white teeth. Juan’s coloring was relatively dark, not much lighter than my own[TJ5]  honey-kissed tan skin. It was only his shiny, silky ink black hair that announced his Hispanic heritage. Otherwise he would have just been taken for a light-skinned black guy.

That is, until he opened his mouth to speak. Juan was a naturalized citizen and still retained a lot of his accent. Even before I had started to fantasize about how he would feel, I loved to hear him say my name. All his long e’s came out as long a’s. So in his mouth, my name, Malea, became Muhlaya. Hearing him say it, even in passing or casual conversation, gave me chills.

Juan kept staring and smiling at me as he entered the room. I saw the bag in his hand and forgave him for being late, just like that.

“Did you get me something?” I asked greedily. My upbringing was showing again. I was told that closed mouths don't get fed, so I never stopped to think about whether or not I should ask for something I wanted.

Juan had stopped and gotten me a beautiful nightie with a matching thong. It was wrapped in familiar pink tissue paper.

It was a little presumptuous, but sweet. Even knowing that Brianna had the same set, also a present from Juan, didn’t take away the pleasure I got from receiving his offering.

I told him to make himself comfortable and ducked into the cramped bathroom to change. A bit silly, I guess,[TJ6]  considering I would emerge nearly naked. And with any luck, I’d be completely naked and spread out on the bed pretty soon.

After[TJ7]  I changed into the new nightie, which fit perfectly, I wished the mirror was on the inside the bathroom instead of over the sink in the back of the small room. I wanted to check my hair before I went out to Juan. As much as I was pleased with the way I looked—and most people who knew me would tell you that is a lot—I would never deny that Brianna was beautiful. Not necessarily more beautiful than me, but beautiful in a different way.

When we were in school, Brianna always got asked if she was from the Caribbean islands. She wasn’t, and as far as she knew her family came from the same plantation system most of us came from. But there was something in the set of her eyes, the thin nose set between high, sharp cheek bones, and her glistening, jet black skin that was so freaking exotic. People always wanted to attribute her looks to someplace tropical and mysterious.[TJ8] 

Brianna was so dark that she made Juan look very fair, and they made a striking couple. They naturally stood out in a way that Juan and I, with our more similar coloring, would never be able to pull off.

But that first night, at the party, he managed to whisper to me that he really liked my hair[TJ9] . He thought it was beautiful, and if Brianna weren’t there he would run his fingers through it all night.

Brianna had begun wearing wigs in college, and just adopted it as her signature look. There was nothing wrong with her hair at the time, and I assumed it was still all there and healthy. But I’d gone so long without seeing her without a wig, I couldn’t say for sure.

But my hair was real, and bouncy and thick. I thought it was my best feature. I kept it tinted an amber color with honey-blond highlights. Contrary to what some of the natural-hair Nazis liked to assume, I didn’t chemically straighten it. The curl pattern I sport just happens to be my hair’s natural texture.

Well, shit, I thought, there you go thinking about Brianna again! Maybe that’s[TJ10]  why Brianna had called me. Here I was in a motel room, changing into a lovely gown Juan bought for me, but I was thinking about her. I still had no idea what Brianna thought she knew if anything.  But if nothing else, Brianna’s phone call had put her in my head.[TJ11] 

Whatever, I thought determinedly.  You’re here now, and you know you want to go through with this.  If you insist on feeling guilty about it do it later.

Pep talk over, I consciously got my mind to focus on what I was doing.  Having Juan say he liked my hair at the party had put a smile on my face for the rest of the night. Before he saw me in his gift, I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t messed it up when I changed.[TJ12] 

I was intent on looking at myself in the mirror across the way as I left the bathroom. I didn’t even notice Juan looking at me until he gave a deep sigh and said “Te ves hermosa en ese camsion, Malea. Nunca debrias usar cualquier otra cosa.” [TJ13] 

Oh. My. God. I didn’t know how my panties didn’t drop right then. I hadn’t thought anything he said could be sexier than the way he spoke my name until he said it in that torrent of his native tongue.

All I could think to say was “Yes, Papi.” Juan could have been ordering me to go back into the bathroom and clean the toilet with my tongue for all I knew. And it still would have sounded sexy to me.

In fact, when Juan tried to translate for me, I dashed over to him and put one finger to his lips. I didn’t want him to tell me what he’d said. As long as I didn’t know, he could be saying whatever I needed him to say when I fantasized about the moment later.

Juan took the opportunity to kiss my finger on his lips, then slowly and thoroughly sucked each of the other fingers as well. All that while looking me deep in the eyes. I felt my breath quicken, my chest literally heaving. I’d never experienced anything like that[TJ14] . I felt like I was in a freaking romance novel, the kind I hated because they are so corny.

It was almost too much, but the look in Juan’s eyes, his machismo and swagger, kept it from being too cheesy. With him looking at me like that, all the things I knew I should be mocking seemed entirely . . . right. I didn’t have another word for it. Everything Juan was doing to me just seemed like the perfect thing that could be done to me.

It was in that moment that I stopped kidding myself. I knew that my being with Juan was one hundred percent wrong. Full stop. [TJ15] But I was going to do it anyway. Because I wanted to. I didn’t want it to get out to anybody I knew, and I was willing to lie my ass off if need be. This could hurt a lot of people that I really did care about, but I didn’t care enough to stop. I was going to fuck that gorgeous man, no matter what the repercussions might be.

And with that admission to myself, all thoughts of Brianna went out of my mind.

As Juan tasted my hand, I used the other one to finally feel his silky black hair between my fingers. It was so soft, and smelled so good, it should have belonged to a woman. He turned his face into my hand, like a cat does when you pet its head. That put his full lips closer to mine, and we kissed. That man could kiss! It was almost soulful the way Juan moved his tongue slowly in and out of my mouth, and turned his head a bit so that his mouth kind of grinded against mine.

We both reached out for the other and closed the space between our bodies. I know it sounds like a bit much, but Juan actually began to hum. I don’t even know what song it was, maybe something from his country, but it made the already highly charged moment even more romantic[TJ16] . I imagined I could see fire light flickering and smell the musky scent from my favorite candle. I closed my eyes as he kept up his wordless tune and swayed us to the music he made.

I don’t know how long we stayed in that embrace, just rocking gently back and forth, before Juan led us to the bed. I don’t even remember walking toward the bed, just that I was there and he was looming over me. If I’d had anything to drink, I’d have thought he’d slipped me something.

Juan’s hands caressed my body, first through the nightie he got me, then under it. It was slit up the front so it was simple for him to get inside. But even that contact wasn’t enough, and he quickly undid the clasp that held the flimsy thing together, which was right between my breasts. The only way he could have made that sexier would have been if he’d undone it with his teeth.

Juan had me so concentrated on what he was doing to my body, I realized I was not holding up my end of the bargain. I didn’t want him to think I was a lazy lay. Plus, I’d been thinking about touching his lean, hard body just as much as he'd apparently been thinking about getting his hands on mine.

I wanted to show Juan that I understood what he’d been missing, and that I didn’t mind giving it to him. So I reversed our positions, slowly sitting up and easing him to the bed. He still had on most of his clothes, his tie opened at the neck but still tied. [TJ17] I loved the look of a man who is in business clothes but is already half naked. Like he could barely wait to take you when he came home from the office.

I straddled him, reaching out to slowly undo his tie. I whipped it out from under him, and Juan lifted his head to taste my exposed breasts as they swung from my efforts. But I shook my head and nudged him back down. It was my turn now.[TJ18] 

I didn’t even bother to take off Juan’s shirt, and went right for his waistband. The belt and pants were quickly opened, but I had to slide off him to let him take his pants and boxer-briefs off. I did so by sliding down his body, landing on my knees in front of him. He barely had enough room to stand, but he managed to at least ease his clothes over his well-muscled hips.

I was on him before Juan even got a chance to take his pant over his feet. As soon as he got them down, his erection was right there in my face. And almost before he even made contact with the mattress, it was in my mouth.

I know some women have a problem with the act of giving head, but I like sucking dick. I may not be Super Head, but I have never, ever had any complaints about my techniques. And I’ve sucked my fair share of dicks, beginning from when I was a teenager.

As I liked to do, I licked around the head of Juan’s dick first, not even putting it all the way in my mouth. Little licks, getting slower and tighter as I inch toward the opening of his shaft. Just that light contact and the way I rolled my tongue around him almost made Juan lose control. When I saw a bit of pre-cum, I slowly sucked him into my mouth. Again, I rolled my tongue around his shaft, and relaxed my mouth so that I could take as much of him into my throat as I could.

I have no idea why Brianna finds it so distasteful to taste her yummy husband in the back of her throat, but I genuinely enjoyed it.  But then again, I’d never been taught that the act of giving head was demeaning, so I had no issues with the act in general..  More, I liked the way it made me feel to watch some man completely lose himself and know that I did that to him. I only hate it when a man tries to pump himself into my face. Even if it feels good to him, it’s not acceptable to me. After all, I’m already doing a service for him. It’s not like I have a clitoris in my throat. If the man I’m blowing does something ignorant like that, I just stop. Stop sucking, stop licking, and stop participating, period. That usually gets the message across.

Juan didn’t give me any problems at all. As soon as he felt my tongue make contact with his dick, he let go with another phrase in Spanish. "Oh mi Dios, Malea. No tienes idea lo bien que se siente ahora mismo!"

I still had no earthly idea what he was saying, but it didn’t matter.  It was the way he said it that got to me. Hearing the passion in his voice, I actually got a chill, and really wanted to show him how a dick should be sucked. I did my whole routine, [TJ19] and by the time I had him in my mouth and was actively giving him suction, I damn near swallowed his whole dick, I was so into it.

So Juan had no reason to feel bad that he came relatively quickly, with a loud, almost pained groan. I took all of his ejaculate down my throat and didn’t need to swallow until he was done.

I enjoyed that. I like to make a man lose control, to imagine that I was the best he’d ever had[TJ20] . It felt gratifying to my ego, but wasn’t exactly the same thing as an orgasm for my body. I think my kitty cat was about to get mad at me for bringing Juan to climax before he’d done anything like that for us.

But Juan wasn’t out; he just needed a minute to regroup. He wasn’t eighteen either, so his dick didn’t get immediately hard. I hadn’t expected it to. But there was nothing wrong with his tongue.

I eagerly popped off the thong when Juan indicated it was my turn. Trying to spread my legs in as lady-like a way as possible, I opened myself to him.

But Juan wasn’t interested in me being lady-like. He wanted me to go wild for him. And I did.

I knew it was coming when he first used his fingers to get me ready for his mouth. I love it when a man uses his thumbs on my clit when he fingers me. Juan used his fingers so effectively, he found a spot in there, past the clitoris, that actually made me jump in shock. Was that the G spot? If so, I’d heard of it but had never really had anybody find mine.

But Juan found it, and found it again. He found it so many times that I was almost out of my mind with the sensation before he ever even rolled up his own tongue and showed me he had skills there too.

And yes ma’am, he did he have skills! He never even let me catch my breath, just kept on licking, sucking, and putting his tongue in my pussy until I had cum so many times it was beginning to get painful[TJ21] . I finally had to tap him out before he made me pass out.

It took me a moment to catch my breath, and then I couldn’t stop the giggles. The smile on my face probably matched his. We were both grinning like a couple of goobers.

“Damn,” we each said at the same time.

“That was you, chica. You see what you did to me? With your mouth? Who taught you to do it that way?”

I shrugged my shoulders, not ready to think enough to put together whole sentences like that. How the hell was I supposed to answer that question anyway? In my entire sexual career, Juan was the first man to ask me something like that.

A mental picture of my Driver’s ED teacher from high school flashed through my mind. Juan looked sort of like the man, who I did have a crush on back then. But it had been all that poor man could do to teach me how to parallel park; he’d never bent me into his lap and patiently told me how to suck him off. The idea of old Mr. Hernandez teaching me how to blow him had me laughing so hard I damn near choked. I’m sure I sounded deranged.

Juan thought so too, by the way he was looking at me, which only made me laugh harder. I was beginning to think I would never calm down; I simply felt too good.

It was only the thought that Juan might think I was laughing at him that sobered me up. Men and their egos; you never knew what they were thinking. In my opinion, Juan need never worry about a woman laughing at what he did in bed, but you never knew. Sometimes the most gifted people are the most insecure.

I didn’t want to tell him about my dumb thought about a dick-sucking instructor though. I didn’t know Juan like that; what is whimsical to you sometimes just makes others think you’re crazy.

So I just told Juan my other truth. “Me,” I said to him with a smirk. “What about you? You know nobody ever had me feeling like that? I mean it, Juan. I’m not just trying to pump you up. That was fucking amazing. And now I have to go back to work, feeling like this? It’s going to be a long day.”

I don’t know if Juan had been feeling insecure, but I could tell I’d said the right thing. He lay on his back, looking very self-satisfied.

To my amazement, I saw his dick twitch out of the corner of my eye. I hadn’t even touched him. Hell, my jaw was already sore from the job I’d done on him, and Miss Kitty was feeling perfectly fine. I couldn’t believe he had another round in him.

But I was wrong. Juan sat up again with a wicked look in his eyes, and said,¿«Sé que vas a dejarme sentir ese coño, derecho?  I know you are not going to disappoint me, are you? You’re not done with me yet, right? I didn’t even technically get to fuck you.”[TJ22] 

Well, I couldn’t argue with that. And I’m not one to back down from a challenge. No way was I going to let Juan walk out of that room feeling like he’d out-fucked me. But it was his idea, so I felt like he could do the work. And he did; he was not gentle about it either.

I still technically had on the nightgown Juan had bought me, and I had to hastily take it off because I thought he might just rip it. It was nice, and I wanted to keep it. I turned my body around to lay it nicely on the chair by the bed, and the next thing I knew I was lifted up and bent over the chair as well.

Juan was behind me, hands wrapped around my body and fingers in my pussy, just like that. The move was such a surprise, my body just reacted. Instant wetness. Which was fortunate, because he only touched me for a second before entering me from behind. Fast, hard, and relentless, Juan pounded my pussy like he was going to strike oil. And I met him, thrust for thrust. I had to; if I didn’t give him any resistance he would have knocked me face first into the chair.

The whole time, he was muttering in Spanish beneath his breath. "Malea. Déjame en ese apretado coño.  Así es, que quiero hacer de su culo grande y jugoso explotar!" At least I thought it was Spanish. All I knew for sure was that other than my name, I couldn’t understand a single thing he was saying, but I guess it could have been sexy sounding gibberish.

I finally gave up trying to maintain my balance and just rested my elbows on the back of the chair, bracing my head against the wall. That changed the position just enough to give Juan better access, and he really liked that. He grabbed me by the hips, using my own body as leverage to pull himself into me even deeper and harder.

It was the feeling of his hot ejaculation that finally pushed me there too. We yelled and screamed together, me in English, Juan in Spanish. The people in the next room probably thought we were killing each other. Afterward, he was as out of breath as I was, but he had the nerve to ask me if I was okay.

I sucked my teeth and gave him the side-eye.  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I told him, albeit a little breathlessly.  “Of course I’m okay.  Better than okay, in fact.  I feel great.  I just need a second to catch my breath, that’s all.”

As I did so, I noticed the time and knew I’d fucked my schedule all to hell. So much for returning to work by three ‘o’ clock; it was already a quarter to four. I might as well not even go back to the office.

I checked my voicemail and had no messages. Since nobody was checking for me, I decided it didn’t matter if I went back or not.

But doing those little tasks brought me back to reality. Back to the fact that Juan and I were not even supposed to be inside that motel room, and we most definitely weren’t supposed to be inside one another. No matter how amazing it was.

I hadn’t thought of Brianna since the moment I’d accepted that, right or wrong, I fully intended to fuck the shit out of her husband, but her image came back to me. And I was a horrible, horrible person because I did not feel guilty. I just wanted to be careful of not getting caught.

So I told Juan I needed to go and asked him if he wanted to take a shower first. From the look he gave me, I thought maybe he was having some post coital guilt of his own. It seemed to me that maybe he’d had time to think as well, to remember that I was his wife’s best friend. Even as much as he cheated on Brianna, he had to have some limits.

Or maybe Juan had just started to think about where he was. He didn’t look too interested in stepping into the room’s nasty tub, and neither was I. We’d have to settle for a whore’s bath, and my sense of modesty kicked back in. I didn’t want to watch that man, whose dick I’d just had in my mouth up to his balls, wash my juices off of him. And I for damn sure didn’t want to wash up in front of him. It all seemed too intimate to me.

He probably thought I was crazy for asking him, but Juan was nice enough to prepare his washcloth and take it into the bathroom, shutting the door while I hurriedly washed myself at the sink. I was almost back in my work clothes by the time he came out looking for the tie I’d thrown across the room when I’d whipped it off of him.

Juan let me retie it for him, which is something I like to do. I found the bag he’d given me, and rewrapped the used nightie and thong in the pink tissue paper. I was thinking about where in my house I could put Juan’s present so that Brianna wouldn’t find it. Then I thought, fuck that—if she was nosy enough to go into my closet and see it, that was her bad. Besides, it wasn’t like it was custom-made; the store isn’t called Brianna’s Secret.

After all the fun we’d had, our parting was pretty awkward. I knew we both wanted to do it again but we both knew it was hella dangerous. We could mess up not just our worlds, but the worlds of a lot of people we both really cared about. At the very least, we needed to think about it.

At least that’s what I was thinking. Juan may have just been thinking about how he now knew exactly what the tattoo on my ass looked like. He patted it as we walked out the door and asked me when he could see me again.

When, not if. I told him I’d have to think about it.

He nodded, but as I walked away, I heard him say “Seguire pensando de it hasta verte, Malea.”

I still didn’t speak Spanish but I was pretty sure my answer was “Yes, Papi.”[TJ23] 




© Copyright 2021 Luscious Lee. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Other Content by Luscious Lee

More Great Reading

Popular Tags