IRE Scoville Scale: Tastefully Wicked














I met Denise when I accompanied my then fiancée Lindsey and her colleagues to their ritualistic Thursday evening circle-jerk better known as happy hour. In hindsight I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. As an ad assistant, not only was I out of place amongst her banker friends, but I was generally ignored save Lindsey’s admonishing looks when I dared venture into their conversation. Obvious to everyone except me, my purpose was relegated to that of  blue-eyed arm candy. No talking or intellectual simulation required. This, as it turned out, had become a pattern in our relationship as a whole. The constant clucking from my party thumped repeatedly in my head and in no time flat I found myself mysteriously at a snapping point over seemingly trivial annoyances when compared to war, famine, and the implosion of Western civilization. Screw that, I wanted out.


Across the throngs of poorly dressed wannabes, I caught the eye of a woman who made my heart jump. She was darker complexioned and wasn’t necessarily what some would classify as stunning however her penetrating eyes and overt confidence more than made up for her failing to meet Halle Berry standards. We flirted, rather she flirted and fueled my raging hard on, until she and her group of friends prepared to leave. Damn Lindsey, I had to move fast if I wanted to catch her. Crisis averted, she made the first move. Without breaking eye contact or acknowledging Lindsey’s presence, she wedged herself between us and handed me her card, whispering in a throaty tone, “Call me. Tonight, understand?” She smiled at my speechlessness and left without another word.


In a moment of rare clarity I realized two things: Lindsey could go to hell. And, for the off chance this woman would allow me to prostrate myself at her feet and beg to fuck her, I’d willing slay a dragon while running into a burning building covered in gasoline to rescue a flesh eating monster with a hankering for blue-eyed White men named Roger. With that thought in my head, I past the rest of the evening with a shit eating grin on my face and a deep languid feeling low in the pit of my belly. I actually anticipated calling Denise.


If I remember correctly, I don’t think I brought my car to a full stop when I, literally, dropped Lindsey off at home that night—I more or less slowed down, camo rolled her ass from the car and let gravity and inertia handle the rest.  I was four digits in to dialing Denise’s number when the car door slammed shut in Lindsey's wake.  Sleepily, Denise answered just as I was about to hang up. Her voice was even sexier now that I’d awoken her. I felt bad; really I did, but not bad enough to end our conversation. That night we conversed for hours on end and called one another throughout the next day between flirtatious emails and decided to meet for lunch. I made the short trek to her building and we walked to an outdoor eatery where I then spilled my guts about my lack luster life with Lindsey, the whole time I was half hoping she’d tell me to piss off for being unfaithful. But she didn’t. She sensed there was trouble between Lindsey and I, that I was unhappy, even before we caught one another’s eye. Surely I was on some cheesy hidden camera show because there’s no way in hell I’d stumbled upon an attractive cultured woman who held more insight into my relationship than my fiancée—add to this the fact that I’d gone the full disclosure route and she hadn’t bolted. Yep, I was on hidden camera. But, of course, I wasn’t. Denise was as she presented herself; open, honest, no frills.


I walked her back to her building and offered to cook dinner for her that night. She accepted, kissed my cheek and hurried through the revolving door. I took the rest of the day off in preparation for our date. First things first: learn to cook.


Denise arrived wearing a cute little plum sundress and strappy sandals, making my jeans and t-shirt seem a pitiful attempt at fashion. We ate takeout from her favorite restaurant by candle light on my verandah and talked about our childhood, our dreams and so forth; nothing even remotely sexual in nature yet I could cut diamonds with my cock. It was probably best that I didn’t tell her that—to my shame, she’d find out as soon as we stood to go inside.


Back inside the apartment, she kicked her shoes off and sat on the sofa while I refilled our wine glasses than took the seat beside her. I brought her legs into my lap and rubbed her feet. This, I’m compelled to point out because I’d never touched much less rubbed a woman’s foot. But for Denise I would’ve devoured them whole. We talked and talked. And, though engrossed in conversation, I longed to run my tongue the length of her silky chocolate legs stopping only to deliver hours of directive pussy worship before letting her ride me to orgasm. I could already hear the squeaky plaintive cries of my bed as she used me over and over again while I thrashed helplessly beneath her screaming, “Slap me, Denise, slap me! Make me your bitch!”


Again, it was probably best I didn’t tell her that bit either. What was happening to me? This pile of man-mush wasn’t me at all. Denise, the coy minx, coaxed sissy-dom out of me. Her eyes billowed “If you’re not going to worship me, don’t bother taking me to bed.” Worship her I would! She hadn’t said so much as a word yet I was putty in her hands.


I listened to her moan peacefully, a result of my handy work I boasted proudly to myself but within minutes I began kicking myself for not rubbing one out before she arrived. The sight of her succulent legs had me teetering on the verge of exploding. At that moment of weakness, I would’ve given my left testicle to reach between her legs, pull her panties aside and finger the shit out of her then lick her clean! Alas, I played the gentleman card and took our glasses to the kitchen.


I returned to the den of torture praying Denise would make the first move. She did. “Take your pants off.” She all but ordered. With Bruce Lee speed and precision, my pants were off and she was straddling me….her dress about her waist, her lips on mine. Our tongues slid deeper as we kissed. As ravenous as I was for her, I took my time. She removed her arms from her dress and allowed it to drop to her waist, revealing her plump brown firm yet soft breasts. I cupped them and brought each nipple to my mouth—where my tongue beckoned, beseeched, plied and offered them my eternal devotion. Denise, her head rolled back slowly gyrated her pouty pussy lips against my swollen cock, groaningly accepted my offering. I wrapped one arm around her waist, controlling her hips movement over my cock while continuing to savor her breasts. In minutes I brought her to orgasm twice before picking her up and heading to my bedroom. Little did I know this would be the last inkling of control I’d have over her. Period!


She stripped me bare and threw me on the bed flat on my back. I reached into the side table for condoms while watching her undress. She crawled up my now rigid body and straddled my face. “Lick.” She demanded with that slight trace of iciness I’'ve come to appreciate. Holy fucking cow! I love this woman! I grabbed her plump ass and brought her pussy to my lips. Somewhere between sucking, licking, flicking, and more sucking, Denise leaned back and began stroking my cock. I was in heaven—my hands full of nice thick ass, wet pussy riding my face, and getting a handjob from someone I actually liked. Yep, I was in heaven. The only way she could’ve made this experience more pleasurable would’ve been to shoot a rainbow of Skittles from her pussy straight into my gaping mouth while slapping me for being greedy.


Then the phone rang. Damn it! In my rush towards heavens gates, I’d forgotten to turn the ringer off. There was no way I was stopping now…that puppy would have to wait. I gripped Denise’s thighs and  gorged myself on her cum. And she was a screamer….oh heaven! Then the phone rang again. It was really becoming a distraction so my princess rose from my face and I was defeated. But instead of dressing and leaving in a huff, Denise opened a condom and donned my cock with a smile. She was a dirty bird…I respect that in a woman.

Just as she mounted me the damn phone rang again!


“Answer it,” she said, lowering herself onto my cock. “It must be important.”


I reached for the phone and answered. She took me deeper and we both bit back moans. Denise mouthed “Oh shit.”


“Hello,” I said valiantly. Lindsey’s magpie-like voice pierced my ears. I mouthed to Denise “its her.” thinking she would dismount. Um, she didn’t, she placed her hands on my stomach, purred and rode me without skipping a beat. Did I mention how much I love this woman? I do, I really do. I stroked up into her meeting her thrust…while Lindsey squawked about something or someone…who cared, I was mere seconds away from telling her to kick rocks. I pulled Denise to me and kissed her deeply, breaking only to utter a pathetic “Oh, that’s interesting” to Lindsey meanwhile Denise licked her cum from my face. I grabbed her hips and thrust into her.


“Baaaaby,” Denise mouthed, biting her lower lip and contracting around me.


“Before you go, my mother wants to talk to you.” I hazily remember hearing Lindsey say. Oh God! Having a fairly decent conversation with my soon to be ex mother-in-law…eh, ex mother-in-law to-be about a wedding that wasn’t going to happen with my cock balls deep in the woman I hoped to marry as soon as we were done fornicating would surely send me to hell….whatever, I’d go with a smile on my face and the sound of Denise’s pussy playing in stereo in my ears.


Denise rode me like a porn star and kissed and sucked my neck. My soon to be ex mother-in-law to be drowned on and I was trapped and ready to cum.


“Roger,” Denise whispered lightly in my ear. “I’m about to cum.”


“Oh yeah,” I said shakily to both women though it was meant solely for Denise. I grabbed her ass firmly and pumped into her. She bit into the pillow over my shoulder, muffling her cries while her right hand took a fist full of my hair.


“Roger?” My soon to be ex mother-in-law to be said. “Here’s Lindsey. We’ll sort out the details tomorrow.” There was a click and then Lindsey chirped again! Denise composed herself and went back to work on me. Oh yeah, using my cock to get herself off while saying dirty, damn near flirty things in my ear—begging me to cum—wanting to suck my cock while I eat her pussy. A tear came to my eye…I love her! My cock was rocket fueled! I drove into Denise—Lindsey squawked—I panted and held Denise close, kissing her passionately, so passionately I dropped the phone on the bed and brought us both to a screaming, toe curling, headboard shattering, earth moving orgasm.


Denise and I lay kissing while Lindsey’s faint voice came from the receiver in a stream of expletives. In her anger she confirmed what I’d always suspected: she’d cheated on me. Denise picked up the phone just as Lindsey screamed “It’s over!”


Denise, true to form, laughed, “No shit.” and hung up.


Ten years ago today, I married a smart-ass.