"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 waiting 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.