Tuesdays with Marcus - Part 1

Crazycheesenips

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"Yo, Marcus!" I yelled down the corridor from my building's front entrance as my upstairs neighbour was waiting for the elevator. He waited till I got a little closer to reply.

"Hey, Daniel! What's cooking?"

"Not much." I made my way to his right and joined him in wait for our ride.

"How's Shelley?" he asked. "If you all are gonna be goin' at it again tonight, lemme know. I'll wear earplugs," he said with a chuckle.

I nervously laughed as well, not knowing anyone could hear us from the comfort of our own apartment.

"Jeez," I tried to play it off with swagger, "I didn't take you to be such a prude, pal."

The elevator doors opened and we both hopped on. I pressed 11, Marcus 12.

"Nah, bro," he started, "I'm just yanking your chain. I guess I gotta be gentle though; it sounds like you had your chain yanked a lot last night."

"Ugh, yeah. She's wild, man."

"I could imagine. It was basically you making all the noise."

For some reason, that last comment ignited a little jealous spark inside me. There were plenty of times I had overheard Marcus giving a girl his special treatment. Often they were left gasping like it was all they could muster in response to what must've been a healthy dose of pleasure. Our bedrooms were directly in line with each other's.

Shelley was a different kind of girl though. She was quiet in bed, which is what I told Marcus in rebuttal. That's just who she is. Despite this, she jovially attested to my sexual prowess time and time again. The quieter she was, the harder she came.

I always felt like a tall guy at 5'11", but whenever I had to talk to Marcus, he knocked my ego down a few pegs, no pun intended. I had to look up to make eye contact. For anyone who doesn't have the benefit of my height to know, that doesn't happen often. I asked him once how tall he was and he said he was 6'5". I never forgot that response. For some reason, it engrained itself in my brain. I'd be lying if I said it didn't bring on some stupid bout of jealousy every time I talked to him. Simply standing in front of him seriously reinforced the difference. Don't ask me why; guys are dumb. It's like how we get jealous over dick size even though everyone knows it doesn't matter. If lesbians can cum with no dick, then size definitely isn't a factor for female pleasure! Knowing this is what always steadied my emotions when I thought about how my dick is slightly—just slightly—below the average.

I won't lie, the height difference between us wasn't the only thing that got me a little insecure from time to time. I know this will sound a little fucked, but bear with me...

I'm white, Marcus is black. I know that shouldn't matter. I'm not racist at all! In fact, I've never bonded with anyone as well as I have with him. I'm all for equal rights and I love how nowadays people are coming together to push for more inclusivity. There's just maybe one tiny downside to it; with more praise shown to black people, they are being viewed in a progressively more attractive light. As if black individuals are better sexual partners, hotter, and more masculine. I may be white, but I'm still pretty masculine myself.

I know Shelley loves me, and so did my last girlfriend, which is why it didn't make sense for me to feel this way. That—as irrational as it may be—is what I focused on every time I needed to calm myself down from having doubts about my relationship or myself as a mate.

Just as the elevator stopped at my floor, Marcus reconfirmed something that we talked about a couple days ago.

"So you two will come up to get that table on Tuesday, right?"

"Yup! As long as it's still good for you. We said 2:00, yeah?"

The elevator opened and I stepped out, still looking back awaiting his reply.

"Uh-huh, that works for me. And hey, just feel free to come in, bro. You know me—I love company. We can even have a beer or something."

"Sounds good! See you, Marcus."

"Later."

As I entered my unit, I found my beautiful girlfriend sprawled out on the living room couch. She wasn't just laying down—she was fucking masturbating!

Her hand was working underneath the hem of her pink, lacy panties.

"Fuck yes, babe," I exclaimed as soon as I put my bags down.

"Oh God," she said in a breathless huff. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"And? I'm your boyfriend, remember? Here's some wild information for you: guys actually don't mind walking in on their girlfriends near-naked, going at it like a horny rabbit."

"Stop," she said, obviously embarrassed. Though not embarrassed enough to stop rubbing her pussy.

I watched in wonderment as she began to moan a little louder. She refocused herself as if I wasn't even there.

I knew those noises. She was always more vocal when she played with herself. That's just the way she is. Specifically, I knew she was getting close.

Still standing by the door, I kicked off my shoes and took off my hoodie. I quickly shuffled over to her and knelt down by her legs. My tongue was ready to pounce; it had decided to join in.

"No!" she exclaimed, actually removing her fingers from her slit to conceal her cunt. "I'm so close. I wanna do it myself."

I won't lie—I was frustrated as hell. But I played the good boyfriend and gave a nod and a smile and backed away. I sat on the floor and leaned back, holding myself up with my elbows locked. The show was almost as good as being in the shot anyways. Almost.

I watched on as she made herself cum in less than a minute.

Her eyes were closed as she relished in the come-down. I looked on in awe of her beauty. Once she finally opened her eyes, she laughed seeing that I still had my gaze fixed upon her. I joined in the chuckle.

"What got you so worked up? It's been a while since I found you like that."

"I don't know," she admitted, still breathless. "I must be ovulating or something."

That night, we had the hottest sex I can recall having. She was quiet as usual, but I was convinced by the way her pussy was squeezing against my cock that she had in as much heaven as I was. It had been a long time since I came that hard. I filled the condom right up.

We cuddled each other snuggly and fell asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning was Monday. A start to another brutal week. I was off to work and Shelley was off to school. I was a couple years older than her, and I had already graduated. Working as an intern as a law firm was about as unfulfilling as it sounds, but it was a sacrificial stepping stone I needed to use in order to steer my career in the right direction. Shelley was in her final year.

Our Mondays were each busy as hell. It was our Tuesdays that were a lot lighter, part of the reason why I settled on that day with Marcus to come pick up this coffee table he was getting rid of from his apartment.

Shelley and I were taking our redecorating seriously, finally realizing the importance of making our house a home. I think we had both previously viewed our abode as some temporary stop along the way, but with career opportunities in the local area, we each came to the conclusion that where we were offered the most convenient setup to where we needed to be at the most economical price. Time to get the fold-up chairs and paper plates out and bring in the permanent living solutions!

Don't get me wrong—we still needed to budget. This was part of the reason why we weren't splurging at the local luxury furniture store and instead opted for the third-party market. We lucked out that one of the key pieces we needed could be found right in the apartment above us. Small talk had finally proven to be useful. Had I never befriended Marcus, I never would've mentioned our need for a table, and he never would've offered up his. Everything really does happen for a reason.

Tuesday rolled around and I was able to take the afternoon off. Shelley only has classes in the morning on Tuesdays. So this was the perfect day to complete some of our errands.
We met back home at 1:30, had lunch, and then walked up the stairs to Marcus' unit when the clock hit 2:00.

I followed his instructions and opened his front door to let ourselves in. What greeted us was Marcus and some women, stark naked, fucking on top of the coffee table we were here to pick up. She was fully on the solid surface, hands and knees pressed into the wood, while Marcus' wood was plowing her from behind as he stood alongside her in his dimly lit living room. His blinds were closed, keeping the daylight out. You could hardly make out Marcus' dark figure standing there.

"Oh my God, Marcus! What the fuck, dude!"

"Oh jeez, sorry bud. But what the hell are you doing here?" he shouted. I couldn't believe it, he was still fucking this girl doggy style as he talked to us. He wasn't even letting up. If anything, he was pounding her harder. He had been covering her mouth with his huge palm the whole time, her screams muffled by his black skin.

"What do you mean 'what are we doing here?'" I yelled back. "We're here to pick up that table"— I pointed at it, though it could've easily been mistaken for me pointing at the coupling display before us—"which you told us to come get."

"Bro...it's...Tuesday." He punctuated each word with a subtle grunt as he thrusted his visibly large, black cock into this slut. A slut who, by the way, wouldn't stop moaning now that her lungs had an avenue to let out their wails. For a split second, I got distracted from our conversation listening to her expressions of pure ecstasy. Despite the fact that Shelley was quiet in bed and the fact that I loved her, I couldn't help but wish in this moment that she could sometimes be a little more enthusiastic, kind of like this girl. It was really hot.

Focus, I told myself.

"Yes exactly, Marcus. It's Tuesday. You told us to come on Tuesday."

"Bro—ooh, that's right, baby, arch that back for daddy—I said Thursday! Get...the fuck...out!"

I quickly obliged his request, leaving Shelley and I in the hallway behind the closed door.

The moans were barely drowned out by the slab of hinged wood.

I looked over at Shelley. She looked stunned. Her cheeks were rosy and quickly reddened deeper. I felt so bad; she was one to be easily embarrassed and this had to rank high on the list.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie. I must've misheard him. I could've sworn he said Tuesday. I was telling him how it was the best day for us."

Her chest was practically heaving.

"Let's go back downstairs," I continued. "You look like you could lay down."

We walked down a flight of stairs and re-entered our unit. The next few minutes were filled with this awkward silence as we were forced to listen to what could only be a series of intense orgasms for that girl upstairs. She was louder than I'd ever heard one of Marcus' girls. That's the thing that hit home.

I'd be lying if I hadn't let myself wonder what Shelley would sound like moaning that loudly; if I hadn't let myself wish that she got that loud now and again. But I know that's just not who she is.

Shelley had gone and sat on the couch, looking aimlessly forward. I remained behind our kitchen island in case she happened to look over at me—I needed to hide my boner. No, the bulge wasn't huge, but she'd been with me long enough to know what me turned on looked like in a pair of jeans. Plus, she had license to stare and examine. Others might not notice simply for the fact that it isn't noticeable on quick glance.

The moans were somehow getting louder. I felt I pulse in my dick. All that could be made out were the moans, save for the unmistakable—though muffled—drawn-out groaning of Marcus' name.

I almost couldn't believe how hard this chick was cumming. Maybe it was an act? But for who, us?

The worst part about it is that she looked so similar to my Shelley. From the seconds-long, first-person glimpse into Marcus' sex life, I could tell how this girl mirrored Shelley. They both had long brunette hair, a petite frame, and supple pale skin. The only two differences were that Shelley was maybe a couple inches shorter at 5'3" and she wore glasses. I guess this girl might wear glasses too and took them off for sex. There just wasn't enough time to make all these observations.

Finally, the sex had stopped. We heard them laughing a little. After about 10 minutes, I heard more footsteps and then the door closed. She must've left, because I didn't hear any more voices after that.

I let my hard-on subside before walking down the hall to my home office. I was gonna try and distract myself with work. Before she disappeared from my view, I saw that Shelley still wasn't moving. She was on the couch, staring into oblivion. I knew it would be best to just let her shake this whole thing off on her own and never talk about it again.

From my office, I heard what I thought was a light tap on the door. I guess Shelley had quietly walked over and opened it. I barely heard any voices, which made me suspicious.

I walked out an realized why—she had gone out to talk to whoever it was in the hallway, leaving the door open just a crack. I was curious as hell, so I gently tip-toed over until I could make out the words being said. It was another woman.

"Like I said, I'm really sorry. I've never been so embarrassed in my life."

"Oh, don't even worry about it," Shelley advised.

"No, no. I feel so stupid," this other woman said with a chuckle. "The most humiliating part now that I think back is that I didn't stop him when you guys walked in on us."

"I'm so sorry we did."

"It was an honest mistake it seems. You have nothing to be sorry about. I do. I really should have told him to stop. You know how it is though, sometimes that's easier said than done."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he was, you know, getting me there. Like, really close."

"You were gonna cum from his dick?"

"What? You mean at that very moment? Yeah."

"No," immediately followed from Shelley. "I mean at all."

"What do you mean?" she snickered. "Of course I was!"

"Oh. Wow. I've just never experienced that."

It was true. I knew a lot of girls had trouble reaching climax from penetration, Shelley was one of them. I felt kinda bad until I realized it had nothing to do with me.

"Are you and your...boyfriend?...exclusive?"

"Yes, why."

"Too bad. You should have a go at Marcus. You'll cum from that dick," she said, laughing.

I couldn't believe how brazen some people were. It was irritating as hell. Especially since what she was saying was not only presumptuous, but also irrelevant to Shelley.

"I don't think that would matter."

I was so proud of her. It made me smile.

"I've never came from penis-in-vagina," Shelly continued.

"How many guys have you been with?"

"Just two. Daniel and one boyfriend I had in first year."

"Just something to think about."

Again, I couldn't believe this bitch.
I walked back to my office before Shelley could realize that I had emerged to eavesdrop on their conversation.

The events that transpired through a wrench in our plans. So much for a productive afternoon. Neither one of us even mentioned going out for the rest of the day. Furniture was the last thing on either of our minds. We barely said two words to each other all night. The TV was our only buffer. I don't even think she looked me in the eyes once. Her cheeks looked flushed for the entirety of that evening.

Wednesday was my day to work from home. We often rotated our schedules between us interns.

I was up making coffee before staring my day, when I heard Shelley rustle around in our bedroom. I was expecting her to remain sleeping for at least another hour since her classes only begin mid-morning on Wednesdays. However, after just a few more minutes, she emerged from down the hall and made an announcement.

"I'm gonna head out to the gym, baby." She walked over in her tight leggings and leaned forward to kiss me goodbye. Her boobs were squeezed by her less-than-spacious tank top in this position, giving me a kick-ass view just before her lips met mine. I closed my eyes and sunk into the kiss. I love her so much.

"Will you come back before your classes?" I asked once she eventually forced us to pry our lips from each other.

"No, I'm gonna shower at the gym and head straight from there."

"You want any coffee before you—"

"No, I'm fine."

"Alright. Bye, baby."

"Bye."

Until the moment she closed the door to leave, I watched the most erotic view known to man. How could I not check out that spectacular ass? Best part, it belonged to me. To spank, to bite, to watch walk out the door. God, I got hard just in those few seconds.

As you know, my dick certainly isn't big enough to bulge through my pants, but I did feel it straining against the fabric of my undies, nonetheless.

After a few minutes of sitting and watching TV and drinking my coffee before work, I mindlessly began rubbing my dick through my jeans. I was just too fucking horny from watching my girlfriend and her workout gear giving me a private show. I was getting hornier by the second.

All of a sudden, I heard footsteps above me. I think Marcus was welcoming a guest. Fuck. Could it be the same girl as yesterday?! That would just be too damn good to be true.

I listened. The excitement of being a voyeur—an auditory voyeur, if one can be—was something I'd never felt before yesterday. It was flooding back into my system as I heard the footsteps disappear to the back of the apartment. Horny couldn't begin to describe how I felt. My dick was rock solid.

Trance-like, I stood up and followed the sound. I found myself in our bedroom, listening once again to laughter from upstairs. I couldn't believe my good fortune. Marcus was gonna fuck this chick again while Shelley was out! I was free to jack off to the hottest thing I could imagine without shame or interruption. This was perfect! Work could wait a little while...

Knowing how thick Marcus' dick is and how built of a body he has made this exponentially hotter. Don't misunderstand me: I'm not gay. Not even bi. I'm just saying that he was objectively a really hot guy which probably made it 10x hotter for this chick.

They clearly weren't wasting any time as I started to hear moans from the girl. Again, it just baffled me how different women can be. Shelley was never that vocal, especially during foreplay.

After a few minutes of progressively loudening moans, I heard the girl say something which I believed to make out as, "I've never felt this before."

It was wild to believe that Marcus was topping himself from just a few days ago after the noises he made come out of her then. Unless it was a different girl. Which in some ways would be more impressive. It would show how easily transferable his prowess is from one woman to another. It was wild either way.

All of a sudden, this woman shrieked loud enough to be heard presumably even by the residents below me.

"I'm gonna cum on your whole cock! Oh YES!"

I just wish I could feel what that woman was feeling right now. She had to have just reached nirvana. There's not even a possibility that there could be something on this planet that would give her more pleasure than what she was experiencing right now.

She was crying "yes" over and over again, each one variably drawn out over a couple seconds to maybe fifteen.

And then she said it, "I...love...this...black...cock!"

I don't know what it is about these girls. If it wasn't the same one as the other day, there's no doubt this one was white too. The stories he's told me and the sessions I've overheard to corroborate them were definitive. I don't know why they loved it so much, but they loved black guys and their "black cocks."

Why not just their "cocks?" No. Almost always their "black cocks."

Whoever she was, I'd bet money that the only way she wouldn't be back for more of that was if she got hit by a lightning bolt the next time she stepped outside.
 

Crazycheesenips

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After Shelley's long day of classes that Wednesday—made even longer by her choice to start the day off by working out—she finally walked through the front door at around 7:30 pm.

I glanced over at her and smiled as I finished plating the piping hot roasted chicken with herb potatoes I prepared for us. The timing worked out perfectly.

"Hope you're hungry," I greeted her.

"Starving."

She started to walk to the couch and I stopped her with a holler.

"Hey!"

My love looked over as I stared at her, vexed, waiting for her to realize why I demanded her attention.

After a few seconds, she let an "oh" of acknowledgment. She walked over to me as I put down the hot pan and gave me a quick kiss.

"I'm sorry. I've just had a long day. My brain is running on fumes."

It wasn't like either of us to be the last one to arrive home and not greet the other with a kiss straight away. In fact, it had seemingly become some sort of unspoken routine. Aside from kicking off our shoes or hanging up a coat, it was always the very first thing we did. The fact that she didn't do it here was frankly off-putting. I had to tell myself not to read into it much.

Dinner was quiet. It was so unusual for us. The evening suddenly had the awkwardness of an early date in a relationship where you've run out of topics to discuss. I decided to nudge us in the right direction.

"How was the gym?"

After a brief pause, without looking up from her plate, Shelley responded. "It was fine."

Throw me a bone here, babe!

"Was it a leg day or a torso day or...?"

"Want more wine?" she asked me, abruptly halting our conversation as she got up from the table.

"Uh..." I started, pondering my response, "I don't think so. If I have too much, I might not be able to...do much tonight...if you catch my drift."

She spun back around to look at me as I gave her a coy smirk. Her expression was much too contradictory for my liking.

"Oh, honey, maybe not tonight. I really am feeling kinda tired and I'm just not—yeah, not tonight."

The finality of her decision made me yearn for the early days of our relationship when, even if she was declining sex, she would still at least flirt back a little first. Also, just two days ago I caught her masturbating on the couch and today her libido was kaput?

"Yeah, no problem," I finally mustered. Really, though, it felt like a problem.

The evening dragged on without any excitement. It was like we were being forced to spend time with each other. It was never like that before this week. I tried to pinpoint it, and came to the conclusion that nothing else of note happened but our untimely run-in with Marcus. I couldn't figure out why that was still bugging her though. It couldn't be that she craved the spontaneity of grabbing someone and doing them on a table, that she was enticed by it—she did just decline sex after all. It couldn't still be embarrassment, because she hardly knew Marcus at all. I couldn't pinpoint it, and it bugged the ever-loving shit out of me.

I looked over at her as all these thoughts were swirling around my head. The TV was watching us. Shelley's eyes were glued to her phone; her thumbs pounded away at the keyboard. She had to be texting someone. I had no idea who, and I wasn't gonna ask. I'd wait for her to tell me, which I was sure she'd do. We're the kind of couple who are very open about everything with each other. That also happened to be the reason why we're the kind of couple who doesn't snoop through each other's phones—there's no need with the policy we had on sharing.

About 10 minutes after I had noticed her texting, she got up and announced that she was going to meet her friend Evelyn for a coffee.

"Oh? I thought you were tired," I prodded.

"I am, it's just...Evelyn is...her mom is sick and...baby, I just want to be there for her right now.

"She needs a friend," she ended with conviction after seeming frazzled when beginning to explain her unexpected leave.

"Okay," I conceded. Truth is: I was more than okay with it. This night felt like a wash already. I could use some alone time, especially when the connection between us seemed frayed.

After going to change, she came back out ready to leave in a low-cut shirt that showed a moderate amount of cleavage. It wasn't necessarily unusual for her to wear something like that—she had many tops of that nature—it just seemed unorthodox for her to wear one while grabbing a quick coffee with a friend on a weeknight.

She sent a quick "bye" my way, grabbed her coat, and zoomed out the door. After sitting there for a minute in silence, it struck me that she didn't kiss me goodbye, just as it did with our failed hello. I chalked it up to the awkwardness of the evening; the week.

Now, maybe this is shameless, maybe it's not, but the mere sight of the bare skin of the top curves of my girlfriend's breasts was enough to send me into a frenzy. Sometimes, I still feel like a teenager, just without the posters of busty women on the walls of my room. I pulled my dick out and began jacking off.

I know I watch too much porn; I really do. So I tried desperately to just use my imagination on this occasion. It was getting me damn close but not quite near the finish line. I reached for my phone and went to open my spank bank, when I had a weird thought come over me. I never used to think this before, but I found myself wishing that Marcus had a woman upstairs with him right now for me to eavesdrop on.

Being so turned on by another guy's sex life that I yearned for the next time I could masturbate to his next romp was slightly emasculating. It was emasculating because I realized that I couldn't remember the last time that having sex got me as horny as this thought.

Just before I clicked on a video, I heard movement from the unit above me. Like an answer from the heavens—also above me—I believed Marcus was greeting somebody at his door. Yeah, I suppose it could just be a buddy of his coming over to hang, but since it's Marcus we're talking about, I presumed the odds were much higher that it was a fuck buddy.

Please. Please.

...what the fuck?


What's wrong with me?

This is so pathetic. You're pathetic.

I put my dick away after having a sudden loss of arousal. It was like a wave of sobriety crashed over me at once. I was begging—God?—for my upstairs neighbour to start fucking someone.

And then, with my dick now tucked away nicely, he did just that. Hard.

As if the same sobering wave ebbed in the opposite direction, my shaft began stiffening back to attention.

I looked over to the front door and saw my Nikes sitting on our shoe mat. It's like a sign. A contrived, half-baked suggestion put forth by my mind.

Just do it.

I did it. I pulled out my fully-chubbed cock and began wacking away at myself like a guileless machine submitting to its creator.

Marcus was surely fucking this loose bitch right by his doorway. I couldn't tell if it was against the door or if they were going at it on the floor. The bottom line was that Marcus' sexual prowess took a boost regardless. I've never had Shelley so horny that the second she walked through the door, she mounted me right then and there.

Fuck, that would be so hot.

For now, my options were limited to just one—vicarious excitement.

After a few additional pumps, the woman upstairs was definitely having a life-changing orgasm. I spurted jizz all over my stomach and took a few seconds to catch my breath with my eyes closed. It was so hot listening to her. I wondered what his woman tonight looked like.

I tried to console myself during the haze of post-nut clarity by highlighting the positives of not watching porn and its outlandish plots to get off tonight; instead, using real-world experience...though not my own.

The fragility of my situation with Shelley had me praying she wouldn't get home before Marcus' girl left (or before they fell asleep from exhaustion.) I had doubts, however, considering that she was probably trying to rush through her coffee date to come home and call it a night.

An hour passed with very limited breaks from the couple upstairs. Enough time had elapsed for my libido to once again call from the darkness and invite me to another session of self-pleasure. In all honesty, the things I was hearing were just too fucking hot. They were going at it like animals in the wild.

No longer wanting to avoid the racket, I moved into my bedroom to get a sharper sound from their coitus, which had evidently moved into Marcus' bedroom about 20 minutes prior.

I laid down and shot another, thinner load out of my penis within two minutes.

After the come-down, the sweet sounds of pleasure reverted back to mockery. I had a sudden, cartoonish realization that if they kept going at it this vigorously, I could die laying right where I was—Marcus' bed might come crashing through my ceiling and crush the life out of my cum-covered body.

What an embarrassing fucking way to get discovered.

The time passed...and passed...and Shelley still wasn't home. Marcus was on round six or seven with his personal ho.

I shot Shelley two texts, half an hour apart, but got no reply.

I tried to roll over and fall asleep, but I couldn't seem keep the sounds of fucking from penetrating my eardrums.

Somehow, I guess I eventually dozed off. I woke up to Shelley climbing into bed with me, smelling freshly showered. I looked over at the clock and saw that it was past a quarter to 2:00.

"Are you just getting back now?" I asked her in shock.

"No, I just couldn't sleep up until now. Too much stuff swirling around my head from my chat with Evelyn."

"How is she?" I asked half-heartedly.

"She's doing fine. Just go back to sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."

With the assurance that everything was alright, I drifted back to sleep thinking how lucky I was to have this gorgeous woman laying next to me.

The next day, I got up before Shelley and got ready for work. I kissed her on the forehead before leaving, as she was still asleep. I could only imagine what going out and staying out after a long day yesterday did to her. It warmed my heart however to think of her being such a good friend.

I called the elevator and waited in the silent corridor for over a minute. I could hear the faint dings and the doors opening on another floor before reaching mine.

Finally, it reached my floor and opened up for me. Already inside stood Marcus.

Fuck.

This was so awkward.

"H-hey!" he said, adding a signature inflection, turning it into a two syllable word. "What's up, Danny?"

I hated when he called me that.

I wearily stepped inside and peered up at him, making much-dreaded eye contact.

"Not much, man. How are you?"

"Little battered after the last few days, not gonna lie," he told me with a chuckle.

"Yeah, I could imagine."

"Aw damn," he responded with a smug grin on his face, "does word travel that fast?"

"No," I said, looking away from him, "but sound does."

"Oh shit!" he said with a scoff. "Did it at least sound good?"

The doors opened up to our lobby, and I quickly bolted out.

"Sorry, Marcus. Gotta run, man."

"See ya later!" he hollered at me, now from afar.

Wish I could see you never.

I don't know if I really meant that. He genuinely was a cool guy. His arrogance was just starting to rub me the wrong way. Although, I was starting to feel like maybe I was just jealous of all his action.

All day at work, I couldn't get the situation out of my head. And for some reason, my mind kept taking me back to Tuesday afternoon. Specifically, to the size of Marcus' dick. It was this primal type of envy, and it was eating away at me. I know it was meaningless and irrelevant, but I found myself wishing I knew what it was like to be like him. It had me in a weird state of horniness all day long.

When I got home, I figured I could rein in all this excessive energy with a night of hot sex. Shelley, however, was less than receptive, saying that she was still tired from her night out yesterday. I resorted to a less than fulfilling masturbation session. It was less about pleasure and more about extinguishing this built-up...whatever you'd call it inside of me. Rage? No. Disgust? No. I don't know; frustration, I guess.

Friday was mundane, too. Shelley seemed to have finally recouped her energy today. Her interest in keeping her body in good shape was inspiring; she hit the gym again as I headed out to work.

After we parted our ways in our building's front lobby, I had made it almost all the way to my car in our parking garage before I realized that I left my phone at home.

As I came back into the foyer area where our elevators were located, I saw the tail end of a dark ponytail trotting into one of the elevators.

"Hold it, please," I called out. I was already late and needed to hurry. Thankfully, the occupant was holding the door for me.

As I turned the corner and stepped into the elevator, I was surprised to see Shelley standing inside.

Just seeing her at any given moment made my face light up, even when I had last laid eyes on her mere minutes ago.

She, however, looked spooked.

"Hey, baby," I said to her. "Fancy meeting you here."

"What are you doing coming back?" she inquired. For some reason, the uneasiness on her face still hadn't left.

"I forgot my phone."

"So did I," she quickly retorted.

"Look at that. We really are made for each other."

She just nodded meekly and turned her gaze to the wall. I was getting the strangest vibe right now.

I looked up to see the floors changing as our ride ascended. To my surprise, the elevator numbers ticked right past our floor, the 11th, and landed on the 12th. As the doors opened, I looked over at Shelley. Neither of us moved.

"Oh," she exclaimed, "I must've hit twelve by accident." She extended her arm and selected the correct floor. "It's right next to the button for our floor," she continued on.

"Yeah, I may have done that a few times myself," I falsely acknowledged.

I've never done that in my life.

We remained in place and waited for the elevator doors to close back up and take us to our floor.

I retrieved my phone from our bedroom, and Shelley told me she found hers on the side table next to our couch. From there, we parted once again and each journeyed ahead with our respective days.

Saturday was a day we relished. Who doesn't? I was ready to put this embarrassing week—one to forget—behind me. Even Friday night was a bust. Shelley still didn't want sex, saying again that she was tired.

I tried not to let it bother me, but it did anyways. After all, Friday was her lightest day of classes, and if the gym was going to make her too tired to be intimate with me, then maybe she should have the foresight to not push herself so hard; especially when it cuts into our evening as I'm already at home, waiting for her to return. It was another lonely night of wanking to Marcus' sex show—the audio-only version.

Fuck it.

I wasn't gonna let any of it ruin my weekend. Shelley seemed much more receptive to spending quality time with me today, so I decided to take advantage of that and take her out for breakfast.

We stepped out the front door and waited for the elevator. Just my luck; it was already occupied when it opened.

Marcus' flashy smile shone right towards my girlfriend.

"Hey, you two! Long time no see, Shelley!" The bastard winked at her. Shelley seemed to melt at that. I just had to accept that this man was charmer.

Yeah, but, "short time, much hear" for me.

The absolute worst thing that could happen would be for Tuesday to be addressed. There was something about the idea of Marcus talking to my girlfriend about sex that really put a pit in my stomach. That's the jealousy again. As much as I have faith in Shelley not to cheat on me, what actually reassured me most was the fact that Marcus would refrain from something like that. He was genuinely a great guy; very much a prescriber of the "bros before hos" tagline. Flirtatiousness was simply a trait of his, like being tall or being black.

"Goddamn, you look good today," Marcus directed at Shelley.

She didn't respond vocally; just a slight giggle and a shy look towards the floor.

"Alright, alright," I started, putting my arm around Shelley's waist, "she's taken, Marcus. Cool your charm."

"Oh, bro. I would never dream of ruining what y'all have," he replied.

"Where are you headed?" Shelley asked, pointing at a duffelbag hanging off of Marcus' shoulder.

"Gonna go spend the weekend at my mom's. She's been nagging at me, saying it's been too long since she's seen me. I just know she'll be asking if I've got a steady girl. Ain't got the heart to tell her that ain't me. I keep things casual."

"Yeah," Shelley uttered, "we could tell from Tuesday."

What the fuck? She's bringing it up???

As soon as she said that, the doors opened up on the ground floor and we all got out. As our path diverged from Marcus', he finally responded after a few seconds of looking like a cocky fuck.

"Yeah, just like Tuesday. You jealous, mami?"

As he asked that very inappropriate question, his voice had picked up as we were walking further and further away from him, each to our own cars.

The two of them were still looking at each other as they engaged in whatever this banter was. Shelley had her had turned to the side, still in stride, as Marcus was fully walking backwards with a huge smile on his face directed right at her. I felt like I wasn't there.

"You wish," she finally said to him.

He gave a salute to us and finally turned around as we saw him approach his car, a ways away in our underground parking structure.

Shelley's glare towards him lingered as we got to my car.

"Baby," I said, finally breaking it.

She turned around and got in, seeming genuinely off-put.

"Don't let him get to you."

"It's not that," she quickly said.

"Then what is it?"

"Nothing. It's fine, let's go."

Our weekend was peaceful without having to be subjected to the sounds of one of Marcus' sex sessions from upstairs.
 
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After a week of finding excuses, just as I was starting to genuinely feel concerned, Shelley finally relented and we had sex on Sunday night.

It wasn't the most passionate sex we've ever had, but it certainly sufficed. After about 20 minutes of some hot foreplay, Shelley had an orgasm on my tongue. She often still wouldn't get very wet during this, so we cracked out the lube to aid us in what came next.

We made love in our bed, and I totally got lost in the moment. Just being with someone as beautiful as her, tasting her, smelling her, caressing her...it was quickly too much. At this point, penetration was pretty much for my benefit as she wasn't able to cum via this method.

I took my lips off her neck where they had been as I thrusted into her for the last minute and looked into her eyes.

"Baby, can I?" I asked permission.

As soon as she nodded, there was no turning back.

My lips crashed into hers as I shot every ounce of cum I could into the condom.

As soon as I came down from my high, I slid my fastly-softening cock out of her cunt, pried my lips off of hers, and rolled over onto the bed, catching my breath.

I looked over at her and saw her staring up at the ceiling.

"You good?" I asked.

"Yeah. So good, baby," she stated matter-of-factly.

I must've closed my eyes at some point because I woke up temporarily to find Shelley with her hand under the covers, working her pussy violently. She was muffling her moans, but I still heard her breathing become erratic. I watched on without making any sound. It was the hottest display a man could ask for. I didn't read into it at all in terms of my prowess. She was often a horny girl and masturbating a short time after sex wasn't uncommon. That's why this past week had seemed anomalous. She didn't seem to want much sex at all, and I couldn't recall a time to herself that she would've been masturbating.

I watched her finish herself off as her toes—poking out from the bottom of the covers—curled themselves into oblivion. If physics allowed, I'm pretty sure they would've kept curling a full 360° until they returned to their original position. I understood at this point that her orgasms were stronger by way of masturbation as compared to sex. Women know how to make their bodies sing, and I had no hard time accepting that.

Despite my cock hardening at the sight of my girlfriend having a mind-blowing orgasm, my slumber quickly fell back over me. I think I had a dream that we were fucking in Marcus' apartment, on the same table he was fucking that bitch on. I don't know why I dreamt that. Then again, who knows why we dream anything? Maybe it was some intrinsic need to exert dominance over a dude who clearly enjoys the sight of my girlfriend the same way I do. I couldn't tell if he was there or not in my dream, but what better way to show dominance then to fuck a girl in the personal space of a guy who rivals you for her affection?

I woke up feeling like such a boss.

It was a quiet night from Marcus upstairs on Monday evening, although there was rattling enough for it to be confirmed that he had returned home from his mother's house on the weekend. Like clockwork next Tuesday, though, he welcomed another conquest of his.

Truth be told, I found a way to leave work early just so I could come back here, suspecting that Marcus would be fucking that same chick again. Despite every other occurrence from the previous week, that first time was the absolute hottest to listen to. Maybe it was the novelty of the situation. And since Shelley and I were together when it happened, I couldn't masturbate to it.

Was it a little pathetic that I rushed home early from work on the chance that I would be able to masturbate to the sounds of a hot sex session from my arrogant upstairs neighbour? Maybe. But I honestly couldn't care less. And as soon as Shelley informed me that she would be at the library all afternoon working on an assignment once her morning classes finished, followed by a trip to the gym, I knew I had to cash in on the probable opportunity that Marcus would be making time for that same ho from a week ago today.

It was hard to tell through muffled scream and an entire floor between us, but it actually didn't sound like the same girl he was fucking on the table in front of our eyes. It did however sound like someone else he was fucking last week. Truth be told, there was no real way to know aside from being one of the two participants themselves. It was possible that Marcus was fucking a bunch of chicks with the same schedule as Shelley. Maybe he was even fucking girls from the same classes that she takes. This one obviously had Tuesday afternoon off to do with what she pleased, just like my girlfriend. She sure was getting pleased as we speak. Perhaps more appropriately—she was getting pleasured. By a "big black cock" at that. Ugh. I wanted to roll my eyes. Again? If it wasn't the same girl as the one who was shouting those things last week, then he sure had a type. Why did these girls have to bring race into it every time, as if Marcus being black made him a better lover? As if him having a big dick made him a better lover. And everybody knows that black guys having bigger cocks is just an untrue stereotype. Sure, Marcus had one, but that was just by chance. And it didn't matter for pleasure anyways. He obviously just has a great technique that would still be successful even if he had a smaller penis—one my size. And I just mean smaller compared to his. Mine is almost average after all.

As I pulled my focus away from this internal dilemma, I realized the girl upstairs had started announcing her orgasms. As if the whole building needed to know. It made me roll my eyes.

I counted up to her sixth one and realized they had only been going at it for less than 10 minutes thus far. There's no way that was all Marcus. Clearly this slut was multi-orgasmic in bed with anyone.

Jesus. A seventh orgasm.

Even though it was the whole reason I rushed back, I started feeling pathetic once again being this invested in Marcus' sex life. I tried so hard to not pay attention to the noises, but it was becoming inevitable. My dick had been slowly getting hard until the point it had become like a steel bar. I sighed and pulled it out of my sweats.

I began imagining the moans were Shelley. Don't misunderstand me: I wasn't imagining she was getting fucked by Marcus, per se. It was more so that I was focusing on these beautiful moans of pleasure belonging to Shelley, detached from Marcus. If she was a screamer like this girl, it would be even hotter to fuck her than it already was. Obviously those moans weren't property of Shelley; it's just a bit of harmless fantasy. I took solace in the fact that she was loyal to a fault. And like I've said, it's true that Marcus really is a great guy.

The insatiable bitch from upstairs screamed out that she was cumming once again. This had followed one about 30 seconds prior. She was having #9. That really floored me. Nine fucking orgasms. And she clearly wasn't on the come down yet.

I started jacking off harder. It was feeling alright, but it was really just the five seconds in which I cum that I wanted to skip to. I love being a dude, but I still couldn't help being jealous of this desperate slut upstairs. I was feeling a mere modicum of what she must be.

Oh fuck. Here it comes. I can feel the cum start exiting my balls. Oh shit, that feels nice. Christ, she's cumming again. We're cumming together. We're cumming at the same fucking time. Yes!

Ah damn.

It's over...for me. She's still orgasming. Holy fuck. I guess this one wasn't necessarily any longer than her others, it was the direct comparison I was making to mine that had me in awe.

"I'm fucking cumming on this big black cock! Oh God, Marcus! Yes!"

Fuck, I was so envious. 20 seconds later and she's still saying she's cumming.

When I stood up to go get some tissues to clean up my mess, it was then that I really wished Shelley hadn't gone to the gym. The tightness of her pussy would've felt a hell of a lot better than a few pumps from my hand. And I would've lasted longer too. To be totally honest, this was just barely worth having to clean myself up.

Finally, her climax upstairs had finished. Though it surely wouldn't be long till the next one arrived.

"Cum inside me! Oh fuck! Cum inside me!"

Lucky fucker.
 
D

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Danny merely has to realize his power. I'm sure he'll have Marcus on his ass in no time.
 
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Crazycheesenips

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"I have a massive favour to ask you, dude."

These were the words that greeted me as I opened my door to see who was knocking.

You guessed it: none other than Marcus. I had just gotten him out of my head too, after replaying the sex session I was subjected to all of last night from his upstairs apartment. Ever since he got back from his mom's house last weekend, it was sex almost every night. It started Tuesday and ran all the way up to last night, Thursday. Shelley wasn't home for the first two, but last night she was. And she seemed even more disgusted than I was when she heard the moans coming from upstairs. That's how I knew I wasn't alone in my plight. Maybe it's because she's spent far less time being subjected to his impromptu sex sessions, but she seemed utterly shocked when it started last night. She was more furious than I was.

She had said, "I can't believe he's doing this."

I told her that this was the norm, but she just wasn't here to overhear it as often as I was. That didn't seem to placate her though.

"Hey...man," I eventually said to Marcus. I don't know what to call this guy. "What is it?" I asked with trepidation.

"I have these contractors coming in tomorrow to renovate my place and I just found out the work is gonna be a bit more extensive than I thought."

I simply looked on, confused as to how any of this had any relevance to myself.

"I'm knocking down the wall separating the bedrooms," he carried on, "and just leaving up supporting beams. Wanna turn the master into a full-on luxury suite type thing. Don't really need a guest room anyways. If I have anyone sleeping over, they're usually sharing my bed."

I nodded along.

"What's the favour, Marcus?"

"Well, I didn't realize how disruptive the work was gonna be. Imma have to pull out the bed so it doesn't get covered in drywall dust and shove it in my living room probably. Basically everything. And it'll be a bitch to get to and from the bathroom 'cause they're gonna have it sectioned off due to the new flooring I'm gonna have put down and all the plaster and shit. My place gonna be unliveable for a few days."

"Okay..."

"Since we're buds and shit, do you think I could stay with you till the work is complete?"

"Uhh, gee...I dunno, Marcus. I don't really have the guest bedroom made up or anything; there's no bed. And my couch isn't even a pullout. Plus, Shelley and I haven't been able to spend much quality time together lately, and I was kinda hoping that we could use the next few days for that."

"Oh, I wouldn't get in your guys' way. And I ain't no prude. If y'all are fucking, I'll leave you to it and just put in my earbuds. Music optional," he said with a wink and a smile.

"I...uh...yeah, I don't know. I guess I'll have to ask Shelley first to see what she says."

"Huh. Where is she?" he asked me. "I can smell her perfume," this fucker announced loudly as he stepped into my place, sans extended invitation.

"Is that Marcus, honey?" Shelley asked from the other room. After that, she sauntered out to where we were.

"Hey, girl," Marcus said with his eyes lighting up.

I have to say, Shelley's eyes looked worryingly aglow too. I understand this guy is an objective stud. Tall as fuck, attractive, built, in shape, and (not that this part would appeal to her but) hung like a goddamn horse. I had learned to accept that even taken girls would engage in some harmless flirting with a man like that, as annoying as it was when it was my own girlfriend.

"Hi, Marcus."

"You smell like a fucking springtime treat," he said, paying her the cheesy compliment.

After a small giggle, she thanked him.

"Did I hear something about you needing a place to sleep?"

"Yeah, girl. My place gonna be gutted for the next few days."

"You're welcome to sleep on our couch," she offered, much to my chagrin.

"Baby..." I mumbled before being cut off by Marcus.

"You mean it?"

His glance was only on her, as if I wasn't the one he originally asked.

"I don't see why not!" she cheerily replied.

"Baby," I said a little more assertively. "Can I talk to you a second?" I gestured towards our empty room down the hall.

"Um, yeah." Her words were reluctant. "Just one second, Marcus."

"Actually, it's cool. I'll leave you guys be. See you tomorrow?"

"Haha! Sounds good," Shelley said.

He turned around and left without giving me another look.

Shelley's eyes lingered on him as he walked away from our place and down the hall.

"What the fuck are you staring at?"

She turned to me right away, as I evidently snapped her out of her little trance. If looks could kill...

"Oh, sure. As if you don't check out girls' asses when you're walking behind them. I hate when you get insecure like this. So I'm harmlessly checking out a hot guy—what's the problem? I can do whatever the fuck I want!"

This had escalated much beyond what I thought it would be. Truthfully, I hadn't expected her to have the gall to snap at me like that. Never before has she done that; not over anything.

"Okay, okay, fine. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry. I wasn't mad, just...surprised. I didn't think Marcus was your 'type'."

"Tall and hot. Sweetie, that's everyone's type." After her matter-of-fact response, she turned to walk away.

"Black," I blurted out. After she turned back around, I repeated myself.

"Black?" she questioned. "What the fuck does that have to do with anything?"

"I...I just...I—"

"Because he's black it means I shouldn't be attracted to him?"

"I didn't say that."

"Well then what the fuck are you saying?" she inquired with a hand now nestled on her hip.

"I didn't say you shouldn't be attracted to him because of that. I said I was surprised you were attracted to him given that."

"I still don't think race has anything to do with this. And definitely shouldn't."

"No, I'm not saying it does. All I'm saying is you've never found a black guy attractive before."

That statement prompted her to scoff.

"Oh, God," she laughed, "You could not be more wrong!"

"What does that mean?"

"I've found plenty of black guys attractive. Especially Terry."

I was absolutely dumbfounded by what she just said. I think my brain took a good five seconds before even processing it. Finally, it formulated the sentence I wanted to say.

"Terry was...black?" I practically whispered.

She clearly found this funny.

"No one can hear you, baby. No need to whisper. Yup, Terry was black!" she said with emphasis, in direct contrast to how I uttered the same three words.

"Is there a problem?" she went on.

"No. I—not really."

"Not really?"

I could feel my throat getting dry. I'm the worst at crawling out of the holes I dig for myself. With every second that ticked away from this conversation, I envisioned the soil crumbling under my feet, sinking me deeper as I looked for something to grab onto.

"No," I finally conjured up.

"No, what?"

"No, there's not a problem with it."

"You bet your fucking ass there's not a problem with it! What would that potential problem even be? Because clearly something crossed into your mind given the way your tone shifted."

"Baby, can we please just drop th—"

"No! I wanna know," she demanded, taking a step closer to me.

"It's just weird. Okay?"

"Weird?"

"Not weird...I don't know. Different."

"Why does the colour of his skin change anything about my relationship with my ex? A relationship you already knew everything about, I should mention."

"Well," I grumbled, "not everything..."

Her eyebrows raised.

"Why is that a detail I needed to tell you. I never showed you any pictures. I wasn't reminiscing. We were talking about our exes and I told you the pertinent information. We were together for a year and half at the end of high school, and we never even had sex."

"Why not?"

"Are we really rehashing this? I told you; I just wasn't ready."

"And he was?"

"Why are we talking about Terry?"

"Just answer me."

"Why should I?"

"Because I'm your boyfriend."

"And you're asking me this based off of some sort of jealousy, and dare I say racism."

"Racism?"

"Yeah, racism. Somehow, it's some big thing that I didn't tell you that my first boyfriend was black. Just because you assumed he was white doesn't mean you get to be all disgruntled after finding out he wasn't. It should be like if I told you I had pasta on my first date with him, and you had it in your mind that I had spaghetti but later found out I had ravioli. No difference!"

"That's not a fair comparison."

"Why not?"

"Let's just drop this," I pleaded.

"No. Tell me why not."

"I don't know. I...I don't even know."

"What went through your mind when I told you he was black? Answer that if nothing else. That'll tell me what I need to know."

"I was just surprised."

"But why!?" she practically screamed.

"Because I watch porn. I know what it's...like."

"What!? What what's like?"

"You know..."

"No," said Shelly, "I do not."

After a brief pause, I admitted it.

"The size."

"Oh my God!" She was laughing and rolling her eyes. "You're so fucking childish."

"How is that childish?"

"Well, first of all—it's a myth. Second of all—that shouldn't bother you even if it was true for him, because he's my ex. And third of all—I just told you—we never had sex!"

"Did you do other stuff?"

"I can't believe you're asking me about this." She walked down the hall after saying this.

"Did you?" I hollered out to her.

After a few more footsteps, and just before getting to our bedroom, she spun back around with gusto.

"Fine, you wanna know? You really wanna know?"

"Yes," I insisted, trying to come across as confident. Truth be told, I wasn't confident. At all. And I dreaded whatever was about to come next. I don't know how I got here. I don't know why I just reiterated to her that I wanted to know when I didn't. But before I could open my mouth and get my paralyzed vocal cords to tell her that I changed my mind, she began authoring a truly gut-wrenching verse.

"I fucking loved sucking that dick. Mmm. It was so delicious. I did it as often as he wanted. I always felt bad for denying him sex, so I always wanted to make up for that by being his personal slut, dribbling all over his thick penis. And if I could go back and do it all again, without the brainwashing from religious parents, without thinking I was maintaining my purity by only sucking his dick, I would go back and ride the fuck out of that cock. Or, what is it you want to hear, that big...black...cock? Is that how they say it in that porn you watch?"

"I...I don't watch it, I've just...seen it. I—"

"Oh, so much better. Ugh. Whatever."

I watched the love of my life walk away in disgust and slam our bedroom door behind her.

Fuck.

I felt like such a fucking moron. If I just kept my mouth shut and let her gawk at Marcus' ass as he walked away, this fight never would've happened. And she was totally right—it was harmless. Not only that, but I do look at hot women I pass on the street. I felt like such a hypocrite.

I slumped down onto the nearby couch and sulked. I couldn't even muster the energy to turn on the TV. Ten minutes—maybe more—ticked away. Finally, I heard the door to our bedroom fling open and slam against the door stopper. Next was the distinct sound of wheels on the hardwood floor.

Curious, I craned my neck towards the sound. What I saw next shocked me. The wheels I had heard belonged to her suitcase. I sprung to my feet immediately. The situation had shown itself to be exponentially more dire than I thought, and blown way out of proportion.

"Baby?" I called out. She glided right along past me and onwards to the front door.

"Baby!" I tried once again. "Where are you going?"

"To my parents'."

"No. Come on, Shelley. Over *that?*" I asked, gesturing to the spot in the room where we just had our petty argument.

"Yes," she said, plainly. "Over *that.*"

"It was a stupid fight!"

Maybe I should've sauntered over to her and pressed her against the wall, kissing her deeply. Or placed my hand gently over the one she had clutching the handle of her luggage. Perhaps, if this were a play, I would have got on my knees and begged her not to leave. But this wasn't fictitious. This was my fucking life.

"I'll call you in a few days," she told me. "There's a lot you said that I just need to process."

"Please!"

"No."

She grabbed her coat and keys, and kicked her suitcase into go-mode once more. I watched her open the door and disappear into the world on the other side of it.

This can't be real. This couldn't be happening to me. Do I run over to the door, open it back up, and call out for her? Will a final plea from this side of it fall on dear ears? If I were a different kind of man, would I be doing a different kind of thing here?

All that contemplation got me nowhere. I never left the spot I stood on, at least not until she would've been long gone.

I heard nothingness. Nothingness heard me. It mocked me; it knew me. It was me, and I it.

You fucking loser.

~~~~~

I was in the depths of a dream. Something was banging, thudding. I looked around, but all I saw was darkness. Again it went. And again.

My eyes shot open; with that, my hand sprung for my temple as a blistering ache shot across my skull. I grimaced and tried to piece together my story.

I looked around and found myself alone in my bed. My shirt was off, but my jeans were still on. I could smell alcohol. It was both on my breath and on my sheets. Whiskey. No, that didn't come to me through some grand revelation—I sat up and saw the quarter-full bottle on my nightstand. I only had one bottle in this apartment yesterday, and the seal on it had never been broken.

All of a sudden, the loud thud came back stronger than ever. My first thought was to ask myself if I was still in the midst of a dream. But my ears had finally relayed to my auditory cortex that the sound was coming from my surroundings, not my subconscious.

I stood up wearily and followed the noise all the way to my front door.

"Shelley?"

A smile was happy to find its way onto my face. I unlocked it, and pulled the door wide open.

"Hiya, bud" was my greeting. "Sorry to disappoint," said Marcus.

"Nah, that's—it's alright."

Not only did all the good feeling drain from my body, but I also suddenly felt so exposed upon realizing that I was still missing my shirt.

"Looks like we need to get you to the gym, man," Marcus jeered.

He was carrying a duffelbag and launched it halfway across the room onto my couch.

"Home sweet home, I guess."

"Gee, Marcus, I guess you don't have any valuables in there."

"Clothes, deodorant, a toothbrush, and a box of condoms ain't really what I'd call valuable. So, can I come in or what?"

"Condoms!?"

Condoms!?

"Yeah. Why?" he said, stepping into my place.

I closed the door behind him before issuing a stern warning.

"Marcus, I think we need to set some ground rules here. I like you, but I'm doing this as a courtesy to you, mostly because Shelley advocated for you. You won't be using any condoms in this apartment. Got it?"

"What, you saying you're gonna make me raw dog my date tonight?" he said with a cocky smirk.

"Marcus, hold up."

"What, little buddy? You that much of a prude?"

"First off," I began in a sharp tone, "don't call me 'little buddy.' Second, you're not gonna have sex in my apartment with some random chick."

"Bruh, Felicia ain't some random chick, she's one of the girls I'm seeing on the regular. And you're telling me you've never heard me having sex before? I know your bedroom is under mine."

The stupid grin on his face was only growing.

"How the fuck do you know where my bedroom is?" I pried.

"Well, aren't all the units on this side of the building the same layout?"

He had a point.

"Uh...yeah, I guess you're right. But what does it matter if I've heard you having sex before?"

"Because if you've listened before, you should have no problem listening again. Hey, maybe you even like it. I'm not judging!"

"I'm not answering that!"

"It wasn't a question. But that was definitely a yes," he said through laughter.

"No. The answer is no."

Good thing I'm not Pinocchio.

"Whatever you say." His tone was that of an unconvinced soul.

"What's that supposed to mean!?"

"Jeez, man. It's 10 A.M. on a Saturday morning, I just got here, you haven't even offered me a coffee yet—I'm not about having a spat right now. You know me, I'm a chill, easy-going guy. Why did you even bring up my sex life? Sounds like you have a bit of a preoccupation with it. Maybe since you walked in on me?"

"You're the one who mentioned condoms!"

"Yeah, and? We're adults. You asked me what I had in my bag, and I told you. And then you make it into this big thing. Jeez. Is this a jealousy thing?"

Jealousy?!? Is this guy fucking for real?

Jesus Christ, my head was pounding.

"Why would I be jealous of you!? I have a girlfriend. Actually, I'm the only one out of the two of us who does." I felt a massive ego rush coursing through my veins just hearing those words come out of my mouth.

Hear that, doofus? I'm winning.

"Hey, man, I'm living that bachelor life," he rebutted. "It's working mighty fine for me! Anyways, how 'bout that coffee?"

I rolled my eyes and finally just relented. This conversation had run its course.

"Fine, Marcus. Make yourself at home," I begrudged.

After he settled onto the couch and put his large feet up on my coffee table, I walked away in disgust and gathered my shirt up off my bedroom floor. I walked back out into the kitchen and began brewing him a coffee.

The couch faced the opposite direction, but I stood there looking at the back of his head, working up the courage to add one final remark to our previous discussion. Finally, I had it queued.

"You know, some people might have the respect to ask for their host's permission to have sex in their home."

Continued below.
 
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Crazycheesenips

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Not two seconds passed before Marcus next spoke.

"So, why'd you think I was Shelley when you opened the door?"

I couldn't believe this fucking guy. It took me a good minute and half to find it within myself to say what I did to him, and he needed a second and a half to completely ignore me and take the conversation in another direction altogether. Unbelievable.

"Where is she?" he asked again.

"It's nothing," I fibbed, struggling to hide my dejection.

Sensing my tone, he turned his torso around to face me.

"Aw, what is it, little—er, I mean, big buddy?"

My nerves grated.

"We had a stupid fight."

"About what?"

I felt my tongue go heavy and a pit grow in my stomach. There was no fucking way I was going to tell him the truth. I tried imagining how that would play out. Me telling a black guy that we fought because I was taken aback that my girlfriend's first partner was black. And that didn't even compare to the reason the fight started—because I caught her checking out his ass.

"Stupid...relationship stuff," I finally told him.

"Ah, so specific," he replied with a chuckle.

"Yeah, I'm just not in the mood to talk about, man. Here's your coffee. How do you take it?"

"I like it creamy. I know a lot of people like it black, but that ain't for me. Hell, the girl I got coming over tonight likes it black." The smirk on his face told the story of a not-so-subtle subtext.

He came and took a seat at my breakfast nook as I poured some cream into his mug.

"Marcus, I'm serious, man. Can't you hold off for a few days. I've gone quite a lot longer than that without sex and it turned out alright."

"You mean to tell me Shelley ain't a wildcat jumping all over you at all times? Jeez. Maybe it's a you problem. She seems like she's got the youthful, energetic demeanour. I figured that translated into the bedroom."

"Hey, that's not what I meant. I mean, yeah, sometimes we went awhile without sex...but it...we—that's rare!" I suddenly felt as though I was on the stand testifying in defense of my sex life. "I meant more so in my teenage years."

"I wouldn't know," said this cocky asshole sitting in front of me.

"Here's your damn coffee."

I managed to escape this train wreck of a conversation and just wanted to get the fuck out of the vicinity.

I went and washed my face, brushed my teeth, threw on a hoodie, and told Marcus I was going to the store. Ten minutes with him and I was already fed up. I know deep in my heart he's not malicious, but his arrogance always cuts me like a knife. I would feel jealous if I didn't stop to remind myself that I was the one with the gorgeous girlfriend, whereas his women were essentially substitutes for hookers.

While out grabbing a few necessities, my better nature won out; I bought a new carton of cream as the one in my fridge was almost out. I suppose it was somewhat of a peace offering.

I also took a walk around my neighbourhood. Anything to prolong my alone time before having to return to deal with Marcus.

As soon as I walked in my front door later, I smelled a nice fragrance in the air. It was a combination of fresh laundry and some air freshener. I kicked off my shoes and took off my coat on a mission to explore. Just then, Marcus walked into the living room.

"Hey, you're back!"

He had on green basketball shorts and a white sleeveless under shirt. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his ebony skin.

"You look...busy," I observed.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind, I did a little cleaning as a favour to you. For being such a welcoming host!"

"Is that laundry I hear in the dryer?"

"Yup. Your room...heh, it was a total mess. I picked up a little and found your vacuum. And then I threw your sheets in the wash. It must've been a real bad night you had there. All I could smell in there was booze. Is it really that bad with Shelley?"

"Marcus, I told you before. Enough. Just drop it."

I walked into my bedroom and immediately noticed something odd. The sheet set on my bed was unfamiliar to me.

I walked back out into the hall to inquire.

"Marcus," I said, gesturing behind me with my thumb, "where did you find those sheets that are on the bed? I don't remember them."

"Oh, they aren't yours. I went up and grabbed a set of mine to throw on."

Despite his obviously peculiar answer, he turned back around and started straightening out the picture frames I had sitting on a side table, mostly of Shelley and I.

"Uh, Marcus. Why did you do that?"

"Alright, don't freak out..."

"What would I freak out about?"

"I was thinking, since I'm gonna be the one with company tonight, and you still don't know where Shelley is, that bed is gonna be awfully lonely for you tonight. I mean, hell, look at the scene you left after last night. So, as a favour to you, I thought—"

"Absolutely fucking not!"

"Okay, but wait. Just think about it for a second. I'm the one who's gonna be getting lucky tonight, not you. I need the extra room, you don't. Plus, only one person can comfortably fit on this couch, and it's not very comfortable to begin with."

"Marcus, this is insane! No, I'm not letting you fuck some girl in my bed!"

"I already made the bed up with my sheets. Don't make me undo it and redo it again. Oh, you know what? I'll even go back upstairs and grab one of my towels to lay underneath. Believe me, I know this girl who's coming over tonight. I've fucked her a lot and she does soak the whole place up, I admit. But if I lay down the towel, there's no mess. Voila!"

"Marcus," I interjected feebly.

He carried on, approaching me.

"So it'll be my sheets getting drenched, and none of it will get anywhere else. I don't see what the downside is here."

"That's the bed I share with my girlfriend, for fuck's sake! And you're talking about some girl squirting all over it! Oh my God, you're fucking insane!"

"But your girlfriend's not here, dude."

"That doesn't matter! It's...it's sacred. It's like breaking a sacred bond."

"Bro, it's not that big of a deal. It's a bed. Same as all others. Four legs, a box spring, and a mattress. Come on!" he finished with a smile and a little elbow nudge.

"No," I reaffirmed, leaving no doubt whatsoever.

"I'll owe you so bad. Ah, how 'bout this? You know that signed Barry Sanders helmet I got in my case? It's yours!"

Oh shit.

That certainly sweetened the pot.

"Wait, are you for real?"

"For real, bro. You got it."

Maybe I shouldn't have been, but I was so easily swayed. I get his helmet and the only thing he takes away from me is my bed and one good night's sleep?

I extended my hand to him. His grasp was crushing.

"Done."

"Wow, that was easy. I guess your bed ain't so 'sacred' after all," he said, mocking my tone.

I tried to quickly throw it back at him by saying, "I guess neither is your memorabilia."

"Hey, man. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Sometimes that pussy is just too good."

"Alright, alright, enough," I begged, putting my hand out in front of me. "I don't need to hear any of that."

"Oh, right, I forgot. You prefer the live show." With those words, he shot a wink my way and turned to face the TV.

His audacity was insulting. Him being correct was besides the point. How dare he call me out on it so boldly. And with no shame? I wanted so hard to snap at him, but I didn't have the gumption. Perhaps more prudently, I let the moment pass.

~~~~~

"Hey, man. One more favour."

"Jesus, Marcus. Haven't I done enough for you today?"

I was sat on my couch—my bed for the night—watching TV after finishing off the last of the pizza we ordered for dinner. I was on my thirteenth attempt at calling Shelley, and still to no avail. It was beginning to feel hopeless, and I was starting to get more and more desperate.

As a surprising consolation, I was actually having a great time hanging out with Marcus. Once he settled in and dropped the douchey aspects of his persona, he was a pretty relatable dude. And he helped take my mind off of Shelley as we watched a little bit of sports.

Marcus went on asking me his next favour.

"See, the girl I got over tonight, Daniel, it's the same girl who you and Shelley...ya know...walked in on. Ever since then, she's been so mortified. She hasn't lived it down. She wanted to know she wouldn't have to face any awkward small-talk with you, so I promised her you wouldn't be here when she arrived."

"Of course you did," I bemoaned. "I guess I'll throw on some sweats and head to the corner store for...something."

"Oh, perfect! While you're there, could you grab me another box of condoms. I don't wanna risk running out tonight. I looked in the box I packed and realized there were only five left."

What the actual fuck. Is this guy a robot?

Who could possibly have enough sex in one night that they need more than five condoms?

"Yeah, Marcus. Sure."

"I'll give you the money for them later. I don't got any cash on me right now."

I simply nodded at him as I went to change.

"Oh," he hollered out to me, "just get the biggest size they have. Not Magnums. They're too small. Get anything that says XXL."

~~~~~

I got back after approximately 20 minutes.

The sex parade was already en route behind my closed bedroom door.

I couldn't believe how raunchy it was already in just the wee stages.

"Are you a bad bitch? Are you a dirty bitch? Mm-hmm, tell me, baby."

"Yes! I'm a bad girl. I'm a slut!"

"You like takin' this black dick from behind? You like being bent over the side of the bed and getting railed by my big black cock?"

"OH, FUCK YES! I'M CUMMING!"

"That's it. That's a good little slut. Cum for daddy. Cum for me. Tell me what you're cumming on."

"I'M CUMMING ON YOUR BIG BLACK COCK!"

A slap rang through the apartment.

"That's fuckin' right. Say it again, you filthy whore!"

"BIG. BLACK. COCK! UGHHHHHH! I'M FUCKING CUMMING ON IT!"

This woman was screaming. Literally screaming in pleasure. I don't understand how he could be making her cum so hard. Does a big dick really matter this much?

Again, I told myself it wasn't the dick, it was the girl. The way Shelley came was nothing like her.

Finally there was a reprieve. After throwing Marcus' condoms down on the table, I shamelessly tip-toed down the hallway, trying hard not to let the floor creak. I pressed my ear up against the door once I got there, curious to find out if I could hear them talking to each other.

They weren't saying much. They were letting their tongues do the talking. The only sounds coming from them at this moment were their mouths working hard for each other. The suckling at each other's lips made me yearn for that kind of passion. All I could do was pray Shelley would come back to me. I would give anything for her to be here right now, for Marcus to be gone, and for it to be the two of us in our bed.

I heard the girl finally whisper something to him.

"Who's the hotter fuck: me or that bitch from Thursday night?"

I didn't realize Marcus told the tales of his other escapades with whomever happened to be his woman du jour. Clearly, it had gotten to her. She wanted to be the best fuck.

Jesus, the woman was wild. It was honestly hot as hell.

"You know it's you, baby," he told her seductively.

"Mmm," she cooed. "God, that feels good."

She proceeded to giggle from whatever it was Marcus was doing to her.

"Pass me another one, baby doll."

I didn't know what he was asking her for until I heard the rattling of a cardboard box followed by a distinctive tearing sound. He was going through the box of condoms in a rush, at a rate where he would surely need the ones I bought for him shortly.

Mere seconds passed before I heard the squeaking of my bed springs start up again. Louder. And louder. Then louder still.

I hated myself for it, but I had an intrusive thought pop into my head. I was suddenly finding the positive in Shelley walking out on me for the weekend. It meant I could enjoy this without interruption or the need to feel ashamed.

I walked backwards towards my couch, letting my focus linger on the bedroom door for a few extra seconds, careful again not to step on a creaky floorboard.

I sat down in a huff and pulled my rapidly swelling cock out from under my waistband.

Moments of doubt sporadically crept into my mind, but I was doing a good job rooting them out for awhile. The hot sounds of Marcus and his girl's coupling were ramping up in a fury. She was moaning her head off once again as he called her things like "filthy slut" and a "good little white girl." I felt as though I was invading an intimate moment, but remembered that Marcus encouraged me to enjoy, especially with Shelley away. With reassurance, I wrapped whole my hand around my shaft and started pumping more furiously than ever. It was okay. I wasn't harming anyone, just rubbing my cock to the live porn going on in the other room.

The other room. Other? My room. Ah, fuck.

That did it. Suddenly, despite the hot sex going on in the background, my dick went limp. I inadvertently took myself right out if it, and felt like a complete loser. The reality of the situation hit like a ton of bricks.

Instead of masturbating, I now found myself retracing the path that brought me here, and wondered how the fuck I let it all happen. Here I was, on my couch, listening to my inconsiderate neighbour, whom I don't even really like, fucking some needy ho in my bed.

How the fuck did you wind up here, Dan?

Despite my own dick softening in my hand at these sobering revelations, Marcus was clearly staying hard on the other side of the wall. If anything, he may have been getting harder judging by the increased vigour with which he was plowing her into the bed frame—my bed frame. Maybe there was some supernatural force in here that was transferring the strength from my erection to his probably already very strong erection.

My own pleasure notwithstanding given my mental detour, my apartment was quickly filling with the sounds of orgasm. And by the sound of it, it was both of them.

"I can't do this! Take it off! Take it off!" she chanted.

"Oh yeah? We really gonna do this again, huh, baby?"

"Yes! Now!" she shrieked in a blood-curdling tone.

Felicia—I'm assuming that's the chick's name—begged Marcus to cum inside her. And to keep cumming inside her. And to keep cumming inside her. And to keep cumming inside her...

Other than those words, it was just a sequence of animalistic grunts and groans going on for nearly another minute.

I couldn't believe this man just filled up some random chick in my bed. All because I didn't stand up for myself. That was gonna have to change. Never again would I let this shit happen.

"I think it's time for me to worship that delicious cock."

Good Lord. If only Shelley spoke like that.

To be continued.

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