The Awakening – Mike Pt. 01

One story…two perspectives. This is Mike’s story…

Mike was a good man. And for fifteen years, ‘good’ had been more than enough for him and his wife. But then one day, an exceptional man entered their world. And when that happens, the old rules no longer apply….

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I recall the raised eyebrows that my planned surprise holiday had caused amongst my co-workers in the office. The general consensus was that I was “pretty brave” and my manager Tom joked that I had better keep a close eye on you…

And whilst I understood their good natured banter and sarcastic barbs, it didn’t bother me. It was a consequence of having a stunning wife, and by my own admittance…a serious case of punching above my weight. So I had always just put their joking down to envy and good natured banter.

Saying that, I was also well aware of certain perceptions towards holidaying in Jamaica. As an intelligent, media savvy and well informed individual, I had read stories about some of the resorts on the island. I’d read about the rise of Sex Tourism, and the ‘Renta Dread’ culture. And of course, I knew the myth about black guys, and more specifically about Jamaican guys. But I just smiled at the tales of all the supposedly insatiable white women that went crazy over them and put it down to media stereotyping and the increasing popularity of Interracial porn.

Not being remotely hung, I was like most white guys of fairly average endowment; I found the ‘once you go black…’ myth fairly amusing in its arrogance and naivety. But I suppose it also sat a little uneasily for other reasons.

Not that I’m that bad for my age, but I think at times, like most men, I could be a tad paranoid about my own perceived limitations inside the bedroom. Maybe it was paranoia. It wasn’t based on any specific event, or situation. I had never been scorned and ridiculed by past lovers. I just didn’t seem to set them on fire. But then again, my only benchmarks were the porn films I had watched over the years, so hardly an accurate yard stick to compare my own abilities too. And so whilst I never struggled to attract stunning, intelligent women, it came as a bit of a surprise when you entered my life. Having the most gorgeous, charming and sexy wife, albeit four years my senior was an enormous ego boost.

Thinking back; my colleagues reaction was largely based on you, rather than me. And it was perfectly understandable. Physically, you are the perfect embodiment of the Anglo Saxon, white Amazon. With the kind of statuesque, full figured and curvy body that black men apparently love, yet without a gram of fat anywhere on you. Your large, full breasts; heavy and round, accentuated even more by your slender back and waist. Your shapely hips flare out wonderfully, and your rump is both firm, full and peachy. Light, milky skin, sensuous full lips, wicked green eyes full of sparkle and mischief and masses of coppery curls flowing down your back. You had always been seemingly insatiable, and even in your forties, you were seemingly as flexible as an Olympic gymnast and with a dark, kinky streak that would occasionally rear its head, and which, if I’m honest, did worry me.

You clapped and jumped up and down when I’d told you about my surprise. Whooping with excitement. I was happy. I needed a break from work; from demanding clients, from unrealistic targets, from my boss pushing me to bring in even more revenue. I needed some time with you to reconnect. To address the ‘all work – no life’ imbalance I had gotten into…and to also reignite some of the passion back into our lives. Now don’t get me wrong, we had a wonderful marriage. We were closer than most our married friends, but like all couples, some staleness had crept into our sex life at times. The consequence of having busy lives juggling, work, friends and family. Sometimes meant we were too tired for any fun. I know some of my friends and their wives…what’s that expression…’familiarity breeds contempt’? Well we certainly weren’t anywhere near there, but recently this niggling doubt in the back of my mind about my ability as a lover was more prominent than usual.

I don’t know why. We still made love. And it was lovely. But recently, I had begun to wonder, as you entered your sexual prime, if I had denied you something sexually. Maybe it was the paranoia, but your wan smile, your sighs as I moved inside you…something I couldn’t put my finger on. I began to wonder for the first time about your past conquests. I wondered if you were different with them. Did they make gentle, tender lover to you…and make you sigh? Or did they fuck you like an animal…and make you wail?

I remember one night, laid awake, mind churning over a work issue. Hearing you mumble something in your sleep and I turned to watch you. You were moaning softly. Tossing and turning. The sheets wrapped around your long thighs riding up them as you rolled around the bed. At first I thought you were troubled, but then I soon realised you weren’t. Seeing your gorgeous face Escort bayan contort with lust, thighs grinding into some imaginary lover as he fucked you in your dream. Garbled nonsense in breathless bursts, long moans, panting as your climax approached. And then the final torment, watching you buck wildly as wave upon wave of sexual energy washed through you. Gripping the sheets, your long fingers twisting and flexing in ecstasy.

It was incredibly erotic. Watching you, wondering who you were fucking in your unconscious. It was both agony and cruel ecstasy. The latter not making any sense to me at all, but only fuelling to stir my paranoia a little more. Maybe that was something to do with why I booked a trip to the Caribbean. Maybe it was my subconscious cruelly working against me.

I should clarify, the resort I had chosen didn’t come close to resembling one of the sex resorts, the like of which I’d seen on TV. We just aren’t that kind of couple. It was just an ordinary, resort. Plush, all inclusive, with a pool, a secluded beach and a bar with entertainment area. I was impressed when we arrived, even though it was early evening by the time we has unpacked. I was tired after the flight, so after seeing the look of disappointment on your face at my suggestion of an early night I summed up all my enthusiasm and we headed down to the bar for a drink.

We found a couple of stools at the bar, ordered some drinks and watched the mass of bodies on the dance floor. I was happy. You looked stunning and I whispered in your ear how lovely you looked, and you kissed me tenderly. We held hands and chatted, and all the stress seemed to fall away. Gazing at each other lovingly, it really was heaven under the stars. The heat, the music, the drink and you looking amazing. It was the prefect start to our vacation.

And then I heard a voice next to me…

“Hi. Please excuse the intrusion, but you don’t mind if I sit here do you?”

With a flicker of annoyance, I turned from you to be greeted by a mature, well built, well dressed, black man, gesturing to the stool to my left.

This is how we met Charles.

I was a little taken aback, but being far too polite to refuse, I extended my hand and offered him the seat. We spent the next couple of hours being entertained by our new friend. Charming, witty, he oozed a natural, effortless confidence and style that all black men seem to possess. That’s probably why you liked him from the start. I mean the guy looked like a god. There was no denying he was a good looking SOB. He was older than us both. I guessed around fifty, and he was far too assured for my liking. He did something not many men can do; he made me feel awkward and a little self conscious without even intending to. And whilst I wanted to hate him for that, I just couldn’t.

He obviously looked after himself. He had money too. That was apparent in both the way he dressed and the way he carried himself and over the next couple of hours, he regaled us with stories about his life, his businesses, his travels, etc. He was highly educated, and also very experienced in the ways of the world, and seemed to hold a view on pretty much every topic under the sun. All of them equally fascinating and witty. Now, I’m not someone who gets jealous or possessive at all. But, I was have to admit, I was having a hard time keeping up with Charles. And as the evening went on, and it became apparent how easily and quickly the two of you had clicked, I started to sense some niggling self doubt invading my thoughts.

I had trouble remembering a time when I had seen you so engaged in someone else, and as you both sparred and debated back and forth endlessly…you seemed almost entranced at times. I sat back on my stool a little, and watched. You were sat upright, leaning forwards a touch, your eyes locked on him, head tilted slightly to the side as you listened intently. One hand was resting on my leg, as it always was, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was intruding at times.

I remember having to force the smile on my face each time he made a joke. And each time you laughed out loud, a tiny part of me winced inside. But, at the same time as I was slowly beginning to lose the will to live, I do think a tiny part of my subconscious mind was finding our little three way chat quite arousing. Watching from the side-lines, I think it enjoyed how the dynamic changed over the evening. How it slowly shifted from a three way conversation, to a one to one conversation between you and him. It happened naturally but I also think I encouraged it. I gradually eased out of the interaction a little. Leaving you and Charles to continue chatting, laughing, possibly even flirting, but at a level I wasn’t conscious of. Whilst I sat on the side-lines observing. Nodding, smiling, watching as I sat between you both. I imagined I looked like a spectator at a tennis match watching a long rally. Head moving from left to right as your conversation flowed effortlessly.

My spirits lifted momentarily when he explained he was only staying Bayan escort a few days at our resort. He was sailing his yacht around the Caribbean and had moored it for a few days for repairs. I said a silent prayer for a swift turnaround.

I could tell you were keen on him. I couldn’t blame you for being somewhat attracted to the guy. I imagine most women, and men for that matter couldn’t help but be impressed by Charles. There was no doubt he was, what I’ve heard be described as, an Alpha Male. And I wasn’t so stupid or naïve to think you’d go through life never finding other men attractive, or funny. Or even sexy, but I’d never had to entertain thoughts about the last one.

As I returned from the bar with cocktails for us, you were beaming ear to ear.

“Charles has offered to take us out on his boat Hun!” you said in an excited voice.

Groaning inwardly, I tried to sound impressed.

“Wow, are you serious?” I squeaked.

“I never break a promise Mike…especially when a beautiful lady is involved.” Charles said quietly in his deep, velvet voice.

I could have puked, but you seemed impressed with his charm; laughing loudly as your gaze swept quickly across his face. I forced a smile. My frustration still bubbling under the surface, but now tinged with arousal.

“Didn’t you say it was being repaired?” I enquired hopefully.

He looked me squarely in the eye, smiled and said “yes but I’ve seen a new craft I’m interested in buying. I’ll need to take her out for a while, see how she handles.”

I didn’t miss the irony in his words.

“I’d love you to come with me…” he continued.

You continued to gaze at him. I don’t think you even realised. You seemed quite buzzed that evening. Whether it was the rum, or just Charles, I don’t know. I suspect both, but you were clearly intoxicated by something.

I’d already caught you casting furtive glances at him as we had chatted earlier. Before he even joined us, I suspected someone had caught your eye and then it had only gotten worse. I watched your eyes sparkle, tracing the outline of his taut, firm torso under his tight, white shirt. I noticed you sweeping your gaze across his neck, his face, noticing the curve of his muscled shoulders, his huge arms, knotted with bulging veins.

Charles wouldn’t let up… “You up for it Mike?”

Before I could answer, you laughed and looked at me with a faintly mocking expression. “Mike doesn’t do water very well, do you darling?”

I frowned, my pride affronted, watching the two of you laughing.

“I’ll be there, don’t worry.” I replied with a forced smile.

Christ!! There was no way on earth I was going to let you sail off with him alone for an afternoon.

After two hours of spectating, I decide to take my leave again, and headed for the toilet. More to try and calm my frustration at having the first night of our holiday hijacked than anything else. However, I was also mildly irritated that you didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and seemed too engrossed in your new friend than to worry about spending time together.

I spent longer in the toilet than normal. Due to the fact that I had suddenly developed stage fright at the urinals. Something that hadn’t happened to me in years. As I headed back, mulling over that fact, I stopped. Looking across the dancefloor, I noticed Charles had slid over into my seat. I was a little surprised, although I shouldn’t have been. I was also a little annoyed. I stood for a few minutes watching you both, leaning on a pillar so you wouldn’t see me. To be honest, you were so engrossed I could have been naked, running around the place on fire and I don’t think you’d have noticed.

You were both leaning forward slightly in your seats, mirroring each others body language. You were laughing, and quite animated with it. Throwing your head back, running your hands through your hair. Charles leaned across you, your faces close, but you never flinched or moved despite this stranger invading your intimate space. And then I felt my cock begin to stir. I was confused at just what was happening. The mix of emotions and thoughts swirling around inside my head had left me stunned. I leant against that pillar, breathing in the heady night air. My head spinning with rum and reggae, my body torn between mild nausea and sexual arousal. I’d felt like this since the plane touched down here, but now it was reaching a crescendo.

I turned to look at you both again. You had half turned your chair towards his. Charles’ old stool; redundant and facing away from you both. Lost in your own little world. Charles had snaked his arm around the back of your chair, like he was enfolding you with his body and you barely seemed to care. Your large breasts were brushing his side and I noticed your hand was resting on his thigh. It all looked so natural. Whatever he was saying to you was having an effect and I watched as you laughed again, leaning forward even more. I could see you smile. A smile I’d not seen before. I didn’t recognise Escort it and it worried me a little. I could see his full lips moving, almost brushing your ears. And then you laughed again. For a second. Only it was a stunted laugh, during which you seemed to almost flinch, bringing your hand to your cheek, like it had been scalded.

My instinct told me something wasn’t right, yet I hesitated. My eyes never leaving you both. Charles’ gaze flickered for a moment, seeing me hovering sheepishly at the other side of the dance area. I felt embarrassed. Like I had been caught spying on a neighbour, like I was intruding on something private and the thought made me annoyed. Stepping around the pillar, I began to saunter back over, I watched him lean close, lips parting as he said something to you, and for a couple of seconds you both pulled back slightly. I realised I was holding my breath. There were no more words. You just locked eyes with him, for three, maybe four seconds. Your faces just a few inches apart.

You never noticed as I walked up behind you. leaning down to kiss your head. It was silly really, but my bruised ego wanted to try and assert some authority. You flinched a little, but then half turned and smiled warmly, which lifted my mood immediately.

Charles had the same smug expression as always and I couldn’t help asking “you OK my love?”

You looked at me, a quizzical half smile on your face….”Yes baby, why wouldn’t I be?”

I stood, trying to look indifferent, smiling and muttering “nothing…..nothing.”

I was actually trying to hide my irritation that Charles hadn’t offered to return to his original stool, but instead remained sat on mine, next to you. I was also trying to ignore that monstrously muscled arm snaked almost territorially around you and your chair.

What happened next wasn’t totally unexpected. You jumped from your stool, spun round, eyes flashing, grabbed my hand and said excitedly “Come on, dance with me!!”

I had little time to object as your slight frame belied a wiry strength and you pulled me from my chair so we almost fell into the throng of sweaty, heaving bodies, swaying to the soulful bass lines.

You were lost to the music straight away, closing your eyes, waving your hands rhythmically above your head as you swayed from side to side. I was overcome with a surge of love at that moment. You looked so beautiful. Face flushed and smiling, your lustrous hair flying behind you, your body just incredible in a short black dress which hugged every curve.

I wasn’t the only admirer. As I was self consciously shifting my weight from one foot to the other (I’m not a natural dancer) three big black guys immediately began to jostle for position in front of you, pressing between us, working their way closer so that for a moment you were lost to me behind three, glistening black backs. As they bobbed about, I saw you emerge through the crowd, eyes wide, mouth open, gazing at the three of them as they circled you, bodies gyrating slowly.

God, this place was alive with sexual energy, and I think we were both being affected by it. Although in different ways. I was once more in a state of excitement as I watched you, now surrounded by topless, muscled black bodies. Their arms snaking around you, their hips gyrating in front of you. At one point, you looked straight at me, laughing helplessly and tried to mouth something to me but then your face was obscured by one of the three guys. Obviously bolder than the others he slowly swayed right up-to you, pressing his pelvis against yours, before slowly and suggestively grinding himself into you.

At that moment I was more turned on than at any point in my life. Seeing you dirty dancing with a hunky black guy was nearly too much. There was no jealousy, no inferiority. I hadn’t even seen his face, so there was nothing to direct any of those emotions at. I hopped to the side to afford a better view, and the sight was so erotic it nearly blew my mind.

I watched my beautiful, elegant wife grinding her crotch into that of a shirtless black man, almost humping his muscular thigh. Your back arched, head thrown back, hair almost reaching the floor, eyes closed, face contorted, your arm gripping his defined, chiselled shoulder. He had his arm wrapped around your tiny waist, holding you firmly, pulling you closer against him. His eyes locked on your face. The two you continued to dance like this for a few moments, until I think you must have come to your senses, because you suddenly straightened, opening your eyes so they were boring into his. You didn’t stop grinding though, and he pulled you tightly so your bodies were pressed together. The spell was broken, and the two of you dissolved into fits of laughter, and you rather sheepishly wriggled from his grip, smiling all the while.

Stepping around him, you ran your fingers down his arm, as you swayed over to me again. The kiss nearly sent me flying. Your passion surprising me. Lips mashed against mine, tongue darting between my lips as you flung your arms around my neck. As I broke away, I opened my eyes. Yours were already open. But they weren’t focused on me. You were looking off to the side, towards where our seats were. A far away look on your face. You glanced away then, towards me, holding my gaze, your eyes flashing…