About Jazz

Look said Cheryl, Jazz is first of all a person and then a skin. He is a man first and a black guy second. I fancy him, but I want to know what you think about sharing me with him? Duncan bit his lip. Back guys, cliches. Black guys good at basketball, dancing and you know what. It was going to be difficult, but Cheryl was adamant.
Duncan liked Jazz. The guy was bloody brilliant as a bowler and his athleticism in the cricket out field was legendary. What was that game when he took the catch on the boundary and won them the match? Well, Jazz was that kind of feller. He was a blokes man as well as one that attracts a woman's eye. The summer had been long. Long lazy spells of heatwave weather punctuated with sharp showers and cooling evenings. The seasons began to shift and with it the cricket season edged towards a close. Cheryl, who watched the game from the pavilion with a jaundiced eye, making comparisons between the game and the thrills of watching paint dry seemed strangely to be sad that it was fading. 

'Will you see Jazz over the winter?' she asked her husband. 

Duncan sucked in a breath and thought. No, not particularly. Jazz wasn't involved in any of the winter circles that he moved in. He wasn't interested in bridge, he didn't do the quiz nights at the golf club and he tended to drink at the bars in town rather than the local hostelry. 

Cheryl seemed disappointed with his response. It was clear that she had hoped that a friendship could be mantained in the interval until next season. 

Duncan watched her muse over the chimena burning up the first fall of autumn leaves to land in their garden. She threw handfalls of twigs into the fire in a desultory manner. 

'I was wondering' she said, wiping some moss from between the fingers of her garden gloves, 'whether you would mind asking Jazz whether he wanted to go out with me?' 

His wife fixed Duncan with her entirely serious, robin's egg blue eyes. They peered at him beneath the fringe of her ash blonde hair. 

'What?!' he asked, unsure that he had heard straight. 

She repeated the word for word as if she had rehearsed it many times. She repeated it slowly so that he understood she was serious. 

Duncan licked up the leaves. It was a bit of a shock. 

'He come on to you or something?' he asked at last. 

Cheryl looked back at him. She pulled off a glove and pulled out a thorn that had found a hole in the material. 

'We smile a little Duncan. I can tell, he likes me, and well, I like him. But he's a gentleman. He wouldn't dare make a move and ask me out, not unless you asked him to.' 


That was how strange it was the first time they discussed the matter. A fire in the garden. Cheryl fearing the loss of that she had admired. It struck Duncan that his wife had watched and listened to Jazz much more intently than he had realised. It occured to him that this was how affairs began, with a look, with a smile. What also struck Duncan though was that affairs didn't feature an open request at the start. He wasn't aware of any wife asking her husband outright whether he would mind if another guy shagged her.  Duncan felt a frisson of excitement about the matter. He felt thrilled that Cheryl was feeling just a bit sexy. How long had it been since they lost the baby? Well over a year, but things hadn't been brilliant between them. Fucking seemed to portend effort and effort led to hope and then there the was the crushing possible despair that could come after all that. 

'I'll ask him then' Duncan had said. 'What am I to say, that you fancy him, or just that you like his company?'

Cheryl scrutinized him then. She was clearly unsure just how honest to be. 

'Tell him that i fancy him, would you mind?' 

Duncan sucked down a breath of the smoky air. The fire was taking a while to lick through the damp leaves. 

'No' he ventured. 

'We would have to agree something. You would have to decide whether you minded if he fucked me. I would have to reassure you that I wasn't leaving us because of last year.' 

'All that!' said Duncan, and then some more he thought. He smiled to reassure her. If he said something like that to Jazz about where he stood as the husband. Well....

'I won't mention the baby Cheryl, I can't. Besides it would make you sound like a charity outing.' He mused a moment. 'I'll tell him we're thirties, we want to try something gently daring. I'll put it like that.'

It was a Friday night ten days later when Cheryl dressed to go out with her suitor. They had played the you alright? I'm alright, game in the interval. They had played it often. The game involved only so many suits. You didn't reveal all the cards. For instance, much as he wondered, much as he fretted quietly by himself, he didn't ask exactly why Cheryl liked the man? Did she need a good fucking? Was it that physical thing? Was there something about him being a handsome and easy talking black guy? She guessed that concern and insisted that it was other. Jazz was first a man, a really sensuous, amusing and personable man. Skin, reputation, black guys in bed, well that was something elsewhere. She had stroked Duncan's cheek and for the first time in weeks, he had kissed her open hand and then her breasts, and then her bare and newly trimmed sex. It had seemed a sudden hope betwen them, a new adventure and it surprised him. 

'This feels like a dare' he said as he watched her dress to go out with Jazz.  

She smiled. 

'It feels liberating...do you mind me saying that?' 

He shook his head. it pleased him that she felt so trusted, so special. She held out her wrist and he fixed the Cartier watch around it, watching as she shook it down to rest against the base of her hand. She stood before him, dressed in the tiny little black cocktail dress that showed her every feminine curve. 

'Well?' she asked. Her look said that he was to be honest, he was to be really honest!

'He'll want to fuck you...he's human after all' Duncan whispered. 

Cheryl came to him and she kissed him slowly on his lips, hers travelling softly as they touched. 

'Would you like that, to know that he has been inside me?' 

Duncan shook. A thrill went up his spine. 

'Yes' he admitted colouring a little with the embarrassment of admitting such. 

'No sheath, so you can see what he did?' she asked. 

Cheryl seemed like a siren then. She seemed like a temptress of the rocks. What was exhilarating now threatend a very hard place later. There was every risk that Jazz could become a compelling habit. 

'No sheath' answered Duncan. 

She smiled. She wagged her finger in a teasing way. 

'you begged for it remember! What do the Chinese say, may you live in interesting times!' 


The first night he knew where they went. An Italian restaurant in a village 15 miles away. She had told him that because of 'his nerves'. If he panicked, if he needed to bail out and request something simply convivial and three based, something non sexual, then he could telephone and then join them there.  He didn't though. He sat at home and looked at the restaurant menu on their website. He laughed at himself imagining tomato and basil sauce all down the front of that dress. This was just simple and sexy and it added something to them alright. The idea worked for a while. it had worked for a good while until he remembered watching Cheryl slip into Jazz's midnighg blue sports car, watching her beau clunk the door shut and then drive her off into the night. 

Duncan visited the john half way through a period drama that he was watching. The 17th century didn't give you an erection. It didn't!! His body was thinking about her and about him and about their touching. They would be through the awkward bit now, the wondering about why this was so sexy and how it had been so simple to negotiate things. Duncan touched himself. He touched his siff cock and thought about her watch sliding down her arm. He thought about her burgundy nail, manicured fingers touching Jazz, first his face, then his chest and then his crotch. He thought about Jazz checking her expression and then slipping his hand up beneath the hem of her tight fitting dress.  Before Duncan knew he it he was jerking his cock and within seconds it had spat semen across the sink and onto the mirror. He grunted. Th spunk looked like phelgm. He wiped it off and told himself that he was disgusting. 

What time was it when Cheryl got back? Duncan shook himself out of his drowsing and saw that it was nearly one in the morning. Country restaunts shut by eleven or so. They had gone some place, perhaps back to Jazz's. Duncan dragged himself off the sofa and shuffled upstairs as fast as his legs would carry him. There were feet on the gravel outside. He chucked off his shirt, scrambled out of his trousers and threw himself into bed. He hoped that it seemed more trusting. Cheryl was a grown woman, she would decide, she would cope. Downstairs then the latch of the door and talking. It was low but he could hear. 

'Shall I call you tomorrow?' It was Cheryl's voice. She got the affirmative answer. 

You can hear a kiss at distance. You can hear the soft moans that accompany a proper kiss. Cheryl was moaning and he was kissing her. 

'You pleased babe...you gonna handle Duncan gentle? I want this...do you?' 

'yes!' her voice was husky, urgent. 

Duncan heard the sound of the door again and then the car accelerating away over the loose gravel. 

Footsteps came up the stairs. Another door, this time to the bed room. 

Pretending slumber, he could nevertheless hear her behind him, undressing in the light of the bedside lamp.  He heard her discard her shoes, and then choker from around her neck. He heard her dress drop from her shoulders and onto the floor after the sound of the zipper coming down. He felt the duvet move and then softly, gently, she was beside him her arms, the Cartier watch still present, reaching around him and down onto his groin. The gentlest kiss was planted on his shoulder. She reached down between his legs and felt his still sticky cock.  

When he stirred, moving against her teasing touch she kissed his shoulder again, and whispered, 

'did you need to wank?' 

She was touching him that way, teasing his foreskin back and forth, probably smelling his body's confession any way. 

'Yes' he admitted grogily, seemingly half conscious. 

'Thinking about Jazz fucking me?' she asked gently. 

Duncan nodded. 

She led his hand then back and around so that he had to turn and down onto her sex.  She led his fingers through the soft blonde curls of her pubes, through the matted semen that her lover had left there. Jazz was a revelation. Even after minutes of pumping into her, when his cock was at last pulled out, it still belched semen into her pubes.  She led Duncan's fingers up and down, up and down between her sex lips, enablng him to feel the thick creaminess of what Jazz had done to her.  She led his fingers upwards after and towards his mouth. They hovered before his lips. 

'Lick' she whispered. 

He blinked and when he did lick, he realised how salty and musky and strong the man was. He realised how virile and powerful he was that he had filled Cheryl's sex with quite so much glutinous semen. Duncan in turn looked like he did when he first tried oysters. His face creased up in caution. Cheryl ran her own fingers below and this time it was they that came to his mouth. 

'Suck them clean...you're to suck them clean' she murmured softly. 

Duncan sucked, tasting the man's deposit, tasting the shear fecundity of the man. As he did so he realised what Cheryl had said. Duncan had instructed her how to handle this moment. He had guided her how to manage the husband. 

'He made me cum darling, he made me cum so hard'  she whispered it, the revelation. After all their recent terrible fraught months. Duncan stared at her. Was he to say, 'good'?   He couldn't say that! He couldn't cgratulate her...him, whoever. Yet not to express an interest barriered them. It would lock this night out of the year so far. 

'You sore....i love you' he whispered. 

She nodded. What could she say. They had been fucking for more than an hour, brutally so. 

'You must lick me out' she whispered, drawing his mouth first to her breasts, then to her semen anointed tummy and then further below. 

Duncan flinched. He knew that there was something. This was a heirarchy thing. If he licked her cunny, then Jazz had won. Jazz was the master. May be he was meant to fuck her instead, to take her back again. 

'No' she whispered when he moved, ' I won't feel you. It will destroy you, how it feels, you must do as you're told.' 

A devil inside him insisted that he resist. Another devil inside him told him to suck up the mess and accept that at last his wife was happy again. An angel came along, no larger or wiser and whispered in his ear, 'you lost already son, salvage what you can.' 

So Duncan kissed her steamy gultinous tummy and then her spunk matted pubes and then her sex lips themselves. He gulped. They seemed big. They seemed pulled open and out as if she had been traumatized. He felt Cheryl move up a little, onto one knee, directing her sex against his open upturned mouth. 

He felt her body spasm against his face. He felt her watch slide down against his ear and then the semen flowed, and flowed, and flowed. It fill up his mouth in seconds. Cheryl looked down at his face. She stroked his throat until he swallowed. It was the way she had once coaxed a young goat to feed on the bottle. More poured out, thick and gloopy and tasting of him. When the plugs were not escaping the escarpment of her hole he saw what the man had done, she was completely bored out. 

Ducan blanched. 

He trembled swallowing as best he could. Staring, he stared at her sex, over and over again. 

'I love you...' she whispered, 'lick it clean now'. 

She brought his mouth back to bear and he rang his tongue up and down her sucking down the semen that lingered. 

She was shaking. Hd he licked some more she would have climaxed. 

Now he wanted to continue, to occasion that. He wanted to feel her lock her hard and exercised sex against his mouth. 

'No' she whispered, touching her finger to his lip, 'that's enough feeding. You can have some more tomorrow. Hold me, hold me like you're grateful for tonight.' 

She snuggled against him, her back to him then.

He held her tight, gently, reverently, without movement to her breasts or her sex. His cock throbbed against her bottom. He hugged her gently, for in truth, he was grateful.