My Addiction Called Saul

5 min read

photo: SexArt

I have tried to get over the addiction to my former lover but for some reason I just can’t. Always he’s at the back of my mind. Ours had been an on-and-off type of relationship. One minute I loved and adored him, the next minute I wanted to murder his lying, cheating ass. He makes me laugh; at the same time, he knows how to make me cry. I could be mad with him on Monday, but come Friday we’ve made up and we’re back fucking again.

That’s one other thing about Saul that I love: he really, really knows how to fuck. Maybe it’s because he’s black, from Nigeria, whereas I’m a naive white girl from the mid-west, but I cannot get enough of his huge cock.

Oh yes, that wasn’t a mistake what I just said. My former lover has the greatest cock I’ve ever had inside me. So you should know, I’m not the loose type of girl. Matter of fact, Saul is only the third lover I’ve ever had. But the rest don’t compare to him.

He knows how to eat my pussy;

He fucks me till I scream;

And he always, always makes me cum.

Saul can be fun, but the problem is he’s no long-term fun. Talking about the future with Saul was always a waste of time. Our last break-up was the final straw for me. I quit answering his calls and made sure I had nothing to do with him at all. Weeks passed and he seemed to get the message because he eventually stopped calling. Never once did he come by my place to make up, which was the sign I needed to say he too had moved on.

Months went by and I found myself a new man called Jeremy. He was decent and very sweet. He always treated me fine, and my parents liked him too. He was no Saul in bed, but I figured I could look past that and learn to love the rest of him.

Everything was going fine until three weeks ago when two events happened simultaneously that brought me to the dilemma of where I’m at presently. The first was that Jeremy proposed marriage to me. We were having dinner at a cosy restaurant that happened to be one of our favourite hangout spots when he dropped to one knee and whipped out an engagement ring. My mouth must have fallen to the floor when he did that; the entire room exploded in merriment. I can’t say if it was the happiest day of my life, but it’s a top five.

The second thing that happened occurred earlier that afternoon. I got an unannounced visitor at the travel agency office building where I work — someone whom I hadn’t laid eyes on in months.

It was Saul.

He was looking notably different. Rather subdued, unlike the usual self I’d always known. We had lunch and tried catching up on old times. I knew he was going to make a move on me, and as I expected, he did. He talked about missing me, and how upset he had been when we broke off, and how he’d love to make it up to me.

For the next couple of days I sat in my office wearing my engagement ring, undecided about my feelings. I still cared for Saul, but I knew he hadn’t changed. I hadn’t told him yet of my engagement. So I called him up and told him we needed to talk and he told me to come by his apartment.

I didn’t know it then, but that call was what decided my fate before I even knew it.

I quit my office early and went over to his apartment. Saul is a recording artist. He is often on the road which made it very convenient for him to sleep around without hurting my feelings, even though I knew the deal. When he wasn’t on the road, he was seldom at his apartment.

This time, he was.

We had coffee and then I told him why I couldn’t be seen with him again. If I was expecting him to look surprised when I showed him the ring, I was mistaken.

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“None of your damn business,” I said.

“Come on, you can tell me. It’s not like I wanna meet him.”

“His name’s Jeremy, and he’s a good man and I love him.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with that. If it’s love you want, then you might as well have him.”

“Thank you.”

“It still don’t stop me wanting you though.”

“I can’t be with you anymore, Saul. You’re bad for my health.”

“Actually I’m great for your health. Your body knows it.”

“Saul — ”

“How big is he?”

I looked at him, stunned. “What?”

“Your fiancé, Jeremy. How big is his cock?”

“That doesn’t concern you.”

“He’s a white boy, which means he’s got himself a small dick, right? How’s sex with him like? Does he fuck you good?”

“Stop it, Saul!”

“Does he make you cum the way I do? Does he know how to eat your pussy right?”

Saul rose to his feet while he talked. I was too agitated by his words to notice what he was doing.

“That’s my private matter, Saul. It’s got nothing to do with — ”

“He got himself one of these?” He had unzipped his pants and whipped out that gorgeous black cock of his and was waving it at my face. He stuck his tongue out at me lasciviously, tempting me to say no. “I’ll bet if he had one of these, he definitely wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Saul was getting into my head. It was something he could do with ease; he could spin me round and round, make me mellow off whatever anger level I might bear and consent to his needs. I should have known he would attempt something like this. I was as upset with myself as I was angry at his attempt to manipulate me like this.

I should have gotten up there and then and stormed out of his apartment. I should have snapped at him to grow up and said that I never wanted to set eyes on him ever again.

Except I didn’t.

I allowed him to get into my head.

He stood inches from me, waving his cock in front of my face.

I grabbed at his cock and hungrily took it into my mouth and sucked him off.

I sucked him bad. I sucked his cock like I hadn’t sucked anything so gorgeously beautiful before.

I was the suckered fool. Saul had won me over and from that moment I knew it was going to be an effort to get him out of my life.

Jeremy and I did eventually get married. It was a beautiful wedding. My family and friends were all there to wish me marital happiness . . . well, everybody besides Saul.

Saul didn’t need to attend my wedding; he knew I would be coming by his place days later after Jeremy and I returned from our honeymoon. I do love Jeremy, that is certain. But I have to admit I love Saul’s cock even more. We have ourselves a schedule: I see him twice, sometimes three times, every week. On days when I know my workload at the office will be heavy, I call Jeremy to let him know how late I’m going to be, then I hop in a cab over to Saul’s pad, and he’s there waiting. He doesn’t wait for me to get out of my clothes before he bends me over on his sofa and fillets me with that huge cock of his. He taunts me sometimes, tells me how much he looks forward to the day when he will tell my husband about us. I moan back and tell him how much I don’t fucking care.

And really, I don’t care as long as he doesn’t stop fucking me.

The only time I get a break from him is when he’s off on the road touring with his recording band. We do keep in touch, however. He still does get plenty of pussy, and as much as I tend to get jealous, I tell myself it’s for the best. Jeremy doesn’t know, and I intend to keep things that way.

I’m sitting in the bathroom looking at the little white stick device in my hand, numb with shock and surprise . . . and fear. I should be happy, except I don’t know if really I ought to be. This is the second stick I’ve utilised this morning; the first one lies discarded on the floor. The result is unequivocal — I’m pregnant!

I feel like crying.

Tears are welling up in my eyes.

But I don’t know if the tears are for me or Jeremy . . . or Saul.

What would you do?

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