The Final Choice (Playing Dice, African Style #4)

Chapter 1

Thomas left halfway through Monday, saying his goodbyes to Sasha until they flew off again on Wednesday.

For the rest of Monday and Tuesday, it was just Sash and me alone. She was happy just to potter about. Popping into Ann Arbor to see family. Grabbing an early evening drink with her bestie Lisa to talk wedding plans, as Lisa had asked Sasha to be her Maid of Honor in September.

No such luxuries for me, I had a large and complicated report to write on the major process bottleneck issues at one of the Japanese car assembly plants down in Texas.

But however hard I tried to concentrate, I found myself replaying images and sounds from Sunday night on an almost constant mental loop.

Images of Sasha’s pussy entrance stretched so obscenely wide around Thomas’s fat cock, the sounds she made, the way she had looked at me while another young Black man buried himself deeper inside her than any man she’d ever known before.

All mixed with a sharper edge of jealousy than I’d felt before with anyone except Benson in those last painful weeks.

I caught myself starting to worry, comparing my own size, my own stamina, comparing the way Sasha responded to me versus how she’d responded to Thomas.

On Tuesday, as I desperately tried to finish my report, I tried my damnedest to push back the images and the jealous, insecure thoughts—but I failed miserably.

By Tuesday evening, my feelings had grown oppressive enough that Sasha noticed. We were in bed for a quiet evening before Sasha flew off for a four-day trip starting Wednesday morning, Sasha reading on her tablet while I just stared at the ceiling.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, setting the tablet aside. “Talk to me.”

I hesitated, then let it out. “I guess it just takes a little getting used to again… you know, now that you’ve got a regular again…

“I keep thinking about how easily you cum with him… how loud you get… how he opens you up, stretches you out more than I can ever achieve. And I wonder if, when we stop, when we start our family, I wonder if I’ll be enough for you.

If this new, unplanned thing with Thomas is making you wonder if you ever want just me, me and our family…

if that and me will ever be enough for you… ”

Sasha was quiet for a moment. She didn’t rush to reassure me.

“I do cum harder with him… like I did with my other Black boyfriends,” she said plainly. “And I love how he stretches and fills me. That part isn’t going to change.” She looked at me steadily. “But I’m not going to stop wanting this and you either…”

I felt the words land without any soft landing. And honestly, that was for the best. Soothing, comforting words that clashed with Sunday night’s sights and sounds would just have troubled me even more.

She reached over and wrapped her fingers around my cock, which had gotten hard while we talked.

“This is what it does to you,” she said quietly, giving me a slow stroke, looking deep into my eyes as we talked deeply and honestly for the first time since we’d changed things with Thomas. Since we’d stopped trying to resist what we both wanted.

“Jason, honey, this is who you are… even when it hurts… especially when it hurts, you love it… it makes you hard…”

She didn’t tell me she and Thomas were going to tone it down. She just kept stroking me while I lay there, hard and exposed, until I came in her hand with a low, humiliated sound.

She just wiped her fingers on my stomach, turned off the light, and continued where she’d left off.

“Sweetheart… Sunday night, you made a deal with me and Thomas…

you were always the one keenest to start this game again…

more than me… and you agreed to give me and Thomas all the time we want in the next two months to Easter…

“So, we’ll keep going,” she said into the dark. “As long as you can take it… because, deep down, the more it hurts, the more you love it…”

I might be stressed and brimming over with angst—what husband wouldn’t be?—but she was at peace with things. And, to my shame, she was right, I was the one who’d been more keen to restart things. Although I’d hardly had to drag her screaming and kicking against her will…

She was at peace. She soon fell asleep with her head on my chest and her knee resting across me. Me, I lay awake a little longer, tracing patterns on her back, wondering if a single Sunday night had been so intense, what the hell would two whole months of Thomas-and-Sasha-on-steroids be like.

Long after Sasha had fallen asleep, I still lay awake, replaying the way she’d called out the physical, sexual truths so plainly—that she came harder with Thomas, that she loved how he stretched her more than any man she’d ever been with…

and that she and Thomas weren’t going to stop… because I’d made a deal.

However frightened and worried I was, my cock twitched again at the memory, even though I’d just come. The memories from Sunday and the memories of what she’d just said were a double humiliation that sat heavy in my chest… but she’d called it right, the more it hurt, the more I loved it.

Wednesday morning, I rolled over in bed, and Sash was gone.

I knew it was coming… I always saw her schedules online… but early morning and only half-awake, it still came as a shock. So many years living with an attendant, I’m not sure I’d ever really get used to it.

By Wednesday night, when she called me and I saw the look of love and concern in her eyes—that same look I’d seen Tuesday when she’d put down her tablet—made me feel a whole lot better.

It was the look of a woman who’d told me the truth—however painful and harsh—about what she planned for her last two months of hotwifing, but also the look of a woman who still loved me and wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.

The two of us together, raising a family…

and, who knows, maybe returning to our special game when the kids were safely enjoying their college years.

I wasn’t reading too much into that look we shared…

I could see she was thinking exactly the same.

We’d come through Andre (a minor hiccup), and we’d come through Benson (a major bout of indigestion.) And now we were determined to enjoy our swan song in the lifestyle before sonograms, baby showers, and diapers claimed her ability to feel sexy and adventurous.

The fact we shared that Wednesday night loving look was critical, as, before we had a chance to finish our Tuesday night emotional debrief, her hotel doorbell rang.

No prizes for guessing who was at the door…

“Hey, Jase! How ya doing? What do ya think? Have you got the strength to watch?” he teased, as he wrapped his arms possessively around my woman’s waist, his head nuzzled on her shoulder as he looked straight at me.

For the next half hour, I shamefully avoided answering his question as two thousand miles away I watched my wife fuck her handsome, wealthy and ridiculously endowed South African boyfriend.

“Night-night, Jase,” he signed off with maximum smugness. Eleven p.m. Detroit, eight p.m. Los Angeles… I was under no illusions as to what their main course and dessert would be, now I’d watched Sasha cumming all over her entrée.

The same pattern repeated itself Thursday and Friday nights, until finally Saturday night I drove to DTW to collect Sasha after her final leg.

“Hey, Jase,” Thomas smirked. “Guess I can’t interest you in a trip downtown, a club, and a sleepover in my apartment…”

Fucker! He knew me well enough to know his words made my cock hard but that ultimately my mind controlled me enough to say ‘no’.

The fucker was just messing with my head… for him, a rich kid from South Africa, there was no downside.

For me, a guy who’d pulled himself up by his bootstraps, everything was at stake. We’d just about survived Benson, and now he was playing a game as if we were new to the game and had no scars.

Question was: Was he ignorant, or was he playing a double bluff? Or did he really just not care?

That was the question that rattled round my brain as we drove home and reconnected. A reconnection that hit an unexpected roadblock.

“Jase, honey…I’d love for us to fuck… I so want to feel your cock deep in my pussy, well… deep-ish,” she teased, "but you do remember the deal? February, March… you and me, we only get to fuck twice a month… it’s still only mid-Feb… do you really want to cash in your last February fuck so early?”

I loved Sasha… we were gonna raise kids, spend a lifetime together… but right at that moment, the teasing smile she shared was driving me crazy.

And when she spoke, things got even worse. Even more confused.

“Wouldn’t you rather save it? Save your go for when Thomas is here? You can fuck me… then you can have that bittersweet pleasure of seeing how it’s really done…”

I love you, Sash. You’ve been the Ying to my Yang ever since that party when we first met and locked eyes.

And we’re gonna grow old together… but right now you’re a smiling, sadistic surgeon…

scraping your scalpel against my sternum with the same glee as if you're playing a surgical xylophone…

I love you, babe… but please, forget whatever foolish things I said before…

just let me put my cock in you and fuck you…

But sadly, any daughter of the Presbyterian, Scottish MacAlister clan is made of sterner stuff. She loved me—her eyes told me that—but she had the attitude of an Edinburgh banker. A deal is a deal, no matter how unreasonable the price I’d so foolishly agreed.

Which was why the night that Sasha landed and Thomas teased me, the best I got was a bout of mutual masturbation.

My beloved wife’s hand sliding smoothly up and down my slender cock while she whispered unrepeatable things in my ear.

My own hand in her pussy while the masochist in me told her what we both knew.

“You wish it was Thomas here with you tonight, don’t you! Don’t lie to me!”

She didn’t speak. She just smiled. That was enough for me as my disobedient cock spat its discharge all over my chest. Sasha’s hand directing my mini firehose, making sure not to dirty her own hand, making sure to make my tummy as sticky and white as was possible.