The Morning After

By: Anne Douglas

Whoever the hell was leaning on her doorbell was an evil, evil son of a bitch.

“All right, all right, I’m coming.” Karen whispered into the couch cushion that was stuck to her face. The words rung in her head like Sunday Church bells — Oh wait, that was just the doorbell.

Karen groaned as she tried to untangle herself from the couch. Someone had thrown the kitschy crochet square blanket that usually decorated the back of her couch over her at some point, and now it was wound around her bare legs, her toes were caught in the little holes making it twice as difficult to unravel herself. Her hangover, and inability to see anything with her eyes crunched tight against the dim light, made it even more difficult.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand; sure the foul taste in her mouth had to be from what ever rodent had crawled into there and died while she’d been sleeping. Fucking hangover.

The damn doorbell was still buzzing. Was it just her imagination or was it getting louder? She jerked on the cover, finally getting it off her big toe, but her exaggerated, uncoordinated movement lost her the precarious hold she had on the edge of the couch, and she fell to the floor with a teeth jarring thump.

A low, husky voice that sounded as bad off as she felt, came from her left … at least she thought it was her left. “That sounded like it hurt. You okay hun?”

“Unh.” It wasn’t exactly verbalizing a yes, but she’d at least managed to make her grunt sound somewhat positive — that had to count for something, right?

Karen pushed up off the floor with wobbly arms, and managed to tuck her knees under her butt, then pushed to her feet, using the table and the couch as support. Her head swam like she’d stuck her head in her washing machine’s spin cycle, and struck by a sudden sense of vertigo she stumbled, barking her shin on the exceeding sharp, dangerous, oh-my-god-someone-needs-to-warn-the-world-they’re-attacking, rounded edge of her, until now, benign and safe coffee table.

Her legs, stomach, head — her whole body and then some, really — shook as she made her way to the front door. She fumbled at the small hall table and grabbed hold of the first pair of sunglasses her fingers found and shoved them at her nose. They caught in the rats-nest she was sure the curls she’d taken so long over the night before had become, but she didn’t really care as long as they were dark and went someway to protecting her eyeballs from self imploding when she opened the front door.

After the longest walk of her life, Karen came to a stumbled to a halt behind her wooden front door and rested her forehead against the still-in-the-morning-shade cool wood and cursed the person who’d started serving cum shots and orgasms in plastic cups not shot glasses.

If it hadn’t been for her hold on the door handle she would have gladly slid down the door into a puddle on the floor and happily embraced the cool tile flooring of the hallway. Instead the person on the other side took their finger off the bell and rat-tat-tatted on the door right behind her forehead.

Karen jerked her head away and swore. She fumbled at the lock, hissing as the deadbolt clicked open, its dull thud sounding like thunder. As the door swung open Karen realized she’d greatly underestimated the light filtering abilities of the sunglasses.

“Karen?”

Oh God. The cool, reserved tones of the woman who was soon to be her mother-in-law, brought her head up much to quickly and she felt her equilibrium waver. Karen figured it was only her white knuckled grip on the door handle that kept her upright.

“Good morning, Anne.” Karen’s throat felt strained, and a blurry memory of standing on her coffee table singing to 80’s music wafted by. Singing might have been pushing it as a description, screeching — loudly — might be better. It was her cross to bear that she was a black girl who couldn’t carry a tune in a trash can. Karen tried to make a note to herself to go apologize to her neighbors later in the day, but she had a feeling the glue on the back of her mental post it note would prove faulty.

“It is, isn’t it.”

Anne Smythfield was a tall woman at five-eleven, and at five-foot-five Karen had to look up at her. Karen wasn’t quite sure, because perspective could be a bitch for short people, but she could swear Anne was having a hard time keeping her normally polite smile in place, and there was laughter in her voice. She’s enjoying this.

To hell with it, she’s as able to shut the door as the next person. Karen turned and shuffled back down the hall, flopping against the doorframe as horror knocked out what little starch she’d found to stay upright. “Oh crap.”

The bodies in various stages of undress littered her normally clean and tidy lounge room. Some wore underwear, others had half shrugged into their nightwear, and another still wore her party dress from the night before. At least none of them were naked. Karen looked down at her own clothing with a sigh of relief. It hadn’t occurred to her to check her own state before she opened the front door. Her top and shorts were brief but decent, at least.

Bottles and glasses lay everywhere. Multi-colored spills had turned sickly sticky on just about every surface. But the worst of all were the sex toys that littered the room as if knocked from the belly of a sex toy piñata. Whips, feathers, leather, chains, handcuffs, dildo’s and plugs, but most embarrassing of all was the big, round, pink blow up seat with a thick, black dildo sticking out of it with a fluorescent pink condom half rolled down its length.

“Oh my …” Alan’s mother had it in one. Oh my, indeed.

Big, strong arms wrapped around her middle, and a chin rested on her shoulder. “I thought you were having a few quite drinks with the bridesmaids?” The deep, quiet tones of her lover and husband-to-be sounded a little hoarse.

“I thought I was, too, but they decided that wasn’t good enough so they organized a sex toy party and made a party out of it.” Little pieces of memories flickered. “Sue brought her son’s karaoke machine, and Jill and Mel brought jello shots and shooters. Don’t look; your sister’s in there somewhere.”

“Sounds like your girls and my guys did some talking behind our backs.”

Karen gently turned her head and found Alan was wearing sunglasses, stubble and a hat whose brim shaded his eyes even more. Karen contemplated whether she was fast enough in her current state to snatch the hat and run, well, stumble away. “Tough night, huh?”

His mother was the one that answered. “Seems they were out practicing their ornithology if the feather boa wrapped around his neck this morning is anything to go by.”

She sniggered, I’m sure she sniggered. Maybe her mother-in-law-to-be wasn’t as snobby as she’d first thought her to be.

“Mother.” Alan growled out.

“What? You think your father was clear headed the morning we got married? I was lucky he was at least walking. My father had to nearly carry me down the aisle as I was so nervous I’d polished off a bottle of champagne in the vestry. I was lucky your father was sober enough to make sure we walked back up the aisle, not fall face first into it. High society my ass, only thing different than any other wedding is how much money’s thrown at it to impress the Jones’.”

You could have knocked both her and Alan over with one of the feather whips caught in her ceiling fan. They must have looked a sight as they both slid their sunglasses down to watch her mother-in-law tiptoe around mess and the barely stirring bodies, to end up in front of the big pink … err …elephant in the room.

“You can use it, right?” She studied the chair.

Karen gulped, and nodded in the affirmative, and tried to ignore the slish-slosh of her brain as it bounced back and forth. Mrs. Smythfield peered at the big pink chair for a moment longer, as if she was contemplating just how it might be used. As drunk as they’d all been, Karen had to speculate just how they’d managed to blow the damn thing up. Then she remembered how they’d pulled out her vacuum to use it in reverse, and then spent a hilarious half hour giving each other fake hickeys while they giggled like they were thirteen year old girls.

The consultant had left the toys they purchased on a side table, and despite the amount of items sprayed around the room it was still piled high. Karen’s eyes bobbled behind her shades, while Alan whispered “Holy Shit” into her ear as his mother picked a wrapped up blow-up chair and one other package out of the pile.

Her cheeks were quite pink by the time she made her way back to them. Only a little mind, Anne Smythfield was one composed white woman. “I don’t think lunch is going to work, all things considered. How about we do dinner instead?” She plucked the car keys out of Alan’s hand as she went past, her high heels clicked in a loud staccato beat as she fairly rushed to the front door, her back society straight as she half muttered, “Your father’s tee time wasn’t till eleven; I should still be able to catch him before he leaves if I drive fast.”

The door shut behind Anne with a sharp snap and Karen took a quick … okay, more like slow, look at her watch and giggled when she saw it was only nine-thirty. Her almost in-law’s hotel was only ten minutes from her apartment.

“Was the woman that just left my mother?”

“Uh huh.” They both groaned in unison — Alan from embarrassment, and Karen because for a moment she’d forgotten about her hangover and had nodded as she answered Alan. She ground the heel of her hand into her forehead in a vain effort to ease the pressure thumping in her brain.

“Argh, this mess can wait, I need a shower and another few days of sleep.”

Alan chuckled, winced, then raised his sun glasses to squint at her with a bloodshot leer. “Want someone to scrub your back?”

Karen raised her finger in front of her lips and shushed him, “Only if you can do it quietly.”

The next time Karen woke up it was a much more pleasant experience. This time it wasn’t a blanket wrapped around her legs, but her legs wrapped her lover’s shoulders.

Alan lifted his head and licked along his top lip, tasting her essence. His cheeks were still stubbly, but now his eyes looked clear and refreshed. Where her long, dark hair was neither curly nor straight and sure to standing out sideways, his red-brown hair had a perfect wave. He wore it a little longer than he should, but it suited him. Like his mother and father, he was tall — six-one in his bare feet. He fairly towered over her, yet she’d never felt intimidated.

“Afternoon baby.” His slow, lazy smile was shiny with her juices. “I woke up a little hungry …” Alan’s tongue took another long, unhurried swipe across her sex, teasing her clit with a little flick.

Karen wondered again just how a plain Jane black girl like her had ended up with the most attractive white man in town between her thighs. It still amazed her how their battle across the business table had ended in his all out pursuit of her out of the office. She hadn’t so much as agreed to marry him, but given in to his insistent demands that she fall in love with him, marry him, and give him the most beautiful coffee and cream colored babies in the world.

He pushed up onto his hands, and her legs fell to the side as he worked his way up her body with kisses and licks. He stopped at her breasts and lavished them with attention, sucking her flesh deep into his mouth and pinching her nipples between his teeth. This time when her stomach rolled it was with a totally different type of tension. God, the man knew just how to touch her. And her Momma had always told to never let a good thing get away.

“You’re thinking too hard again.”

It killed her that the man had come to know her all to well in such a short amount of time. He’d armed himself with an answer to every single reservation she’d had, from the fact that she was mixed black to his white, to their differences in social status. The Parker family was decidedly middle class to the Smythfields high society.

“If you don’t stop you know you’re going heading for a spanking, baby.” Alan paused, “On second thought, I’ve got a better idea.”

Alan rolled to the side and moved to his feet. “Jill popped her head in a couple of hours ago to say they’d made arrangements ahead of time to have someone in to clean up, but she thought that this–” He pulled the pink chair with its thick, black dildo around to the side of the bed, and propped it up against the mattress. “–might be best not left sitting on the table.”

“So did anyone actually use it?” Alan was looking at her oddly, like he wanted her to say yes.

“No. Lord, what do you take us for? A bunch of ho’s or something?” Alan frowned down at her, and looked put out. “We decided to practice putting condoms on it with our mouths instead.”

The surprise on Alan’s face was genuine, and he let out a loud laugh. “Anyone have a handy-cam? I’d pay to see the video of that.”

He leaned back over the bed and took her lips with his, and Karen felt the heat blossom through her body again.

“Come on baby girl, I want to watch you take this thing for a test run.” His hand looped around hers and tugged her to the edge of the bed.

Surely he didn’t mean it? Alan reached out for the bedside table and rummaged in the drawer he opened. He withdrew a bottle of lube — the one they’d used the couple of times they’d tried anal sex, because she sure as hell didn’t need it any other time when she was in bed with him. He flipped open the cap and squeezed a big dollop of lube out onto the top of the dildo, then wrapped his fist around the phallus and spread it around.

The sight of his hand wrapped around the fake dick made her breath catch . Her eye’s snapped up to Alan’s as he chuckled. “I’ll make you a deal, love. If you show me how right now, I’ll try it on our honeymoon.”

Karen rolled off the bed and to her feet and straddled the pink chair. “Alright then.” Alan was a man of her word, and there was no way in hell she was going to miss watching him and his tight ass on that chair.

Alan paled a little under his tan and gulped, but in blink was back to his usual demanding dominant self. “Go slow, baby. Show me how to enjoy it.” He moved across the room and sat, managing to still looking manly and tough against the light wicker chair and frilly lace pillows that decorated it. He took his cock in his still slick hand and leaned back, getting himself comfortable with a long slow stroke along his hard-on, and she remembered all the times he’d bent her over that same chair and fucked her silly.

With the pink chair supported by the bed, it was quite stable, but she reached back for the bed anyway so her breasts thrust forward as her back arched. She might be the only black girl not able to sing worth a damn, but give her a part to play and she was golden.

She started slow, just like he’d demanded, inching her way down the slick plastic until finally, her ass kissed the cool, squeaky pink plastic of the chair. Her girlfriends had thought to make fun with the fake cock, not realizing Alan in the flesh was every bit as long and thick. She experimentally moved against it and thought her lover was longer.

“Fuck it, baby.” Alan’s voice was rough. “Imagine I’m out of town, you haven’t seen me for a week and I won’t be back for another, but you’ve just got to take the edge off.”

Karen began to move. Slow to start with, as she made small adjustments to her legs, figuring out just what was most comfortable to give maximum leverage. They’d played with toys before, but this was something new — she’d never pleasured herself in front of him before.

The dildo was slippery, and her flesh slid over it easily as she rose up. The unusually exaggerated veins that ribbed the surface grabbed at her pussy as she sank back down. All the while the heat of Alan’s stare burned her. She watched him as intently as he did her, his arousal stoking hers until she gave up her pretense of control and let herself drop down onto the cock so she bounced back up off the chair.

Alan’s nostrils flared as she kept up the bouncing rhythm. The hardness of the dildo as it drove inside her excited her. The sharp stab in her core that wasn’t quite pain as her ass bounced against the chair made her close her eyes and fling her head back. She imagined that it was Alan driving into her, fucking her after weeks away from home. Powerful and commanding as he took her, owning her in the primal way only a lover could.

The fire he’d started in her body earlier flamed hot and clenched at her gut, and she shifted slightly so she could balance on one arm. The fingers of her now free hand slid into place around the hard little nub of her clit and she pinched, needing not the slow tender love she often gave herself, but an exquisite, tender yet sharp shock to help her climax.

Lost in her imagination, enjoying a scene only she could see, she hadn’t known Alan had moved. His sharp oath as he pulled her hand away startled her, disappointed her, as he stole away her orgasm. He pulled her to her feet and turned her around, his hands and words both harsh as he arranged her then pushed her back down onto the chair. The dildo filled her back up again with a rush.

“You’re going to learn to believe it when I say I want you, baby.” The slap on her ass came out of nowhere and stung like hell.

The first time he’d punished her for not believing she was attractive to him she’d felt embarrassed, ashamed at how her cheeks must have jiggled under his hand, but she’d become so turned on she’d come as soon as he thrust his fingers inside her pussy.

Another smack. “You’re not fat, you’re soft and juicy and I love every inch.”

Smack! “I don’t give a shit that you’re black or where your family comes from.” The sharp retort of his next slap on her ass echoed through the room. Then the contrasting cool drip of lube over her ass made the burn in her cheeks all the more obvious.

A thick finger worked its way into her ass, and Karen shuddered; with her pussy stuffed full with the thick dildo Alan’s finger felt huge.

“You like it, don’t you, love.” Alan’s husky words whispered over her back, the cool puffs of air raising prickles of desire on her skin. “I’m going to fuck your ass until you scream how much you want me.” There was a low, lewd chuckle. “I don’t think it will take much.”

Damn the man for being right. Karen teetered on the edge of an orgasm so huge it nearly overwhelmed her. It was only the press of his cock against her ass that held her back.

Alan worked slowly, letting her adjust to his size, but not stopping till his whole length was deep inside her. He used the seat the same way she had, letting its natural bounce do his work for him, but soon enough that small movement was too little, for both of them.

“Fuck my ass, Alan, please.” The short thrusts became long glides as Alan began to really fuck her. His body wrapped around hers, one hand linked with hers on the bed and the other slid around her hip and into her pussy, gently pinching at her clit.

“Beg for it, baby. Beg me and I’ll make you come.” His voice had almost a cruel edge to it as he raced toward his own orgasm. His fingers worked at her, touching her where the dildo entered her body, his thrusts pushed her clit against the flat of his hand again and again, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Make me come, Alan, please pinch my clit … God, please.” She was horrified at how easily the words flew from her mouth, but she wouldn’t call them back for the world because Alan did ask she asked, and slid her clit between his two fingers and squeezed.

“Oh God, Alan!” Karen grabbed for Alan’s hand, the covers, anything to hold onto as the wave of her orgasm flooded her body, her body trembling as it exploded out into the ether. Alan’s continued thrusts rode the wave with her, coming to a stuttering halt as he muffled his yell into her shoulder.

She was still gasping for air when Alan slid free of her body. Somewhere he found the strength to lift her up off the chair and move her to the bed. He laid her down then curled up behind her with a sigh, and for long moments they lay together, catching their breath.

“So …”

“Hmm?” Alan sounded sleepy again.

“Do you think that’s what your mother was hoping for from your father?”