This is the second installation in a four part series, please start your journey from part one.
Aaron sat in front of the computer, scrolling through a personals site he’d discovered a week earlier. It wasn’t the kind of thing he would have ever thought he’d do, but after everything they’d been talking about—the crushes, the porn, the fantasies—he felt like he had to see what was out there.
When Cherrise walked in, she laughed softly. “What are you doing?”
“Looking,” Aaron said, not embarrassed in the slightest. “You said you like younger guys, right? So… why don’t we make you a profile? Just to see. Just to talk. Nothing more.”
Cherrise froze. “Aaron. No.”
“Come on,” he coaxed, patting the chair beside him. “It’s just talking. You don’t have to meet anyone. Think of it like… window shopping.”
She hesitated, but curiosity tugged at her. Finally, she sat down, leaning over his shoulder. “Fine. But only talking.”
They filled in the basics—her age, her smiley photo, a playful description Aaron helped her write. Within minutes of going live, the messages started rolling in. Compliments, eager introductions, flirty one-liners.
And then there was Trevon.
Trevon
His photos stopped her in her tracks. Perfect abs, skin smooth and gleaming, muscles sculpted in a way that felt almost unreal. But it wasn’t just his body—it was his confidence. His pictures radiated it, and when she clicked one that showed him half-naked in low-slung shorts, her breath caught.
There, nestled between those strong thighs, was his cock.
Cherrise’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God…”
Aaron leaned closer, eyebrows arching. “Wow.”
It was magnificent. Easily eight inches, maybe more. Thick, veiny, powerful—thicker than her wrist. Just looking at it made her cheeks burn.
“I shouldn’t even be looking at this,” she whispered, but her eyes wouldn’t leave the screen.
“Talk to him,” Aaron urged.
And so she did. Just a short message at first, innocent, playful. But Trevon responded quickly, and the chat rolled on with an ease she hadn’t expected. He was charming, funny, confident. Compliments slid easily off his fingertips.
At first, it was just innocent flirting. But then came his invitation.
“Let’s grab a coffee sometime.”
Cherrise’s stomach knotted. “Oh, no way,” she said aloud. “I’m not meeting someone from here.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow. “It’s just coffee. I’d be with you.”
She shook her head, heart pounding. “No. Absolutely not.”
But Trevon was persistent. He wasn’t pushy—he was smooth. And Aaron kept nudging her.
“It’s coffee,” he repeated. “Nothing more.”
She tried to abort the plan twice, each time making excuses. But Aaron, oddly calm, coaxed her back. And somehow, impossibly, she found herself agreeing.
Coffee With Trevon
The day of the meeting, Cherrise was a wreck. She changed her clothes three times, touched up her lipstick twice, and kept checking her reflection.
“You look gorgeous,” Aaron reassured her.
“I look nervous,” she muttered, grabbing her purse.
When they arrived at the coffee shop, her palms were slick with sweat. But the moment she saw Trevon, the world shifted.
He was even better in person—tall, athletic, with perfectly trimmed facial hair and skin that glowed. His smile lit up the room. And when he leaned in to hug her, she caught his scent: clean, masculine, intoxicating.
Aaron went to order coffee, leaving Cherrise and Trevon at the table. He glanced over as he paid, watching Trevon’s easy confidence, the way his body leaned subtly toward his wife, his smile smooth and magnetic. Aaron couldn’t deny it—Trevon was a good-looking man.
But when he brought the coffees back, he noticed neither of them had touched theirs. They were too caught up in each other.
Something Different
The conversation flowed effortlessly. They laughed, teased, flirted without even trying. Time passed without notice, and their coffees grew cold.
By the time they left, Trevon had her number.
And from that moment forward, Cherrise couldn’t stop talking about him.
“Oh my God, Aaron, his smile. He has this way of looking at you like you’re the only person in the room.”
“He’s so funny, so easy to talk to. I feel like I’ve known him forever.”
“Did you see his arms? I mean—wow.”
Aaron chuckled at first, enjoying her excitement. It turned him on, the way her eyes lit up, the girlish giggle in her voice. He wanted her to feel desired, to feel alive.
But as days passed, the mentions didn’t stop. If anything, they grew more intense.
She texted Trevon constantly, laughing at her phone in ways she hadn’t in years. She replayed moments from the coffee shop like a teenager with her first crush. And every time they crawled into bed, Aaron knew exactly where her mind was.
Infatuation
It wasn’t just a crush. Cherrise was infatuated.
She had never felt sexual tension like this before—not even when she’d first fallen in love with Aaron. She’d always chosen partners based on compatibility: music, humor, pop culture, shared values. But with Trevon, all of that was irrelevant.
This was raw. This was primal.
Every time her phone buzzed with a message from him, her body tingled. When she closed her eyes at night, she saw his smile, his body, his cock.
She’d never let herself consider someone purely on the basis of sexual compatibility before. And now, faced with Trevon, she realized how much power it held.
It shook her. It thrilled her. It consumed her.
Aaron’s Unease
At first, Aaron fed off her excitement. He asked questions, encouraged her to share every detail. But the more she gushed, the less playful it felt.
Was she even thinking about him anymore?
They had sex, but her body felt distant, her moans distracted. Her hands gripped him, but her eyes were far away.
Aaron knew where her mind was—locked on Trevon, replaying his smile, his laugh, the image of his cock.
Afterward, Aaron lay awake beside her, staring at the ceiling.
He had wanted this. He had encouraged it. He had pushed her toward it.
But now, listening to her soft sighs in sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder:
What if he’d pushed her too far?
To be continued…
