A New Sofa for Donna

The house was too quiet after her husband left for the office every day. Donna noticed it most on weekdays, when the hum of the air conditioning felt louder than it should and the neighborhood seemed frozen in its carefully trimmed perfection. Her husband, Craig, had provided a good home, but it drowned out the hustle and bustle of everyday life and at times insulated her from the world.

The sofa delivery was scheduled between ten and two, and she told herself she was only restless because change—even something as small as furniture—could sometimes unsettle her. In her world, everything needed to be just right, and something new would mean she’d have to have her touch on it to make sure it was as it should be.

When the doorbell rang, Donna smoothed her blouse before she realized she was doing it and looked at herself in the mirror. She cant have strangers coming to her home without looking presentable. Cute white blouse showing just enough cleavage without being too promiscuous. A nice skirt, not tight or short, but knee-length and frilly, a statement that says light and carefree but also elegant and class, hugging her form and showing enough leg to reveal that she still takes excellent care of herself, even into her fifties. Lots of rings, bracelets and a nice necklace to accessorize. Nails done as usual, fresh from the salon two days ago with a cheerful red and white candy cane holiday theme. She decided on her hair slicked back into a ponytail meant to convey that she was all-business and had expectations that must be met. And of course her signature heels. She was known among her friends for her heel collection.

When she opened the big, welcoming front door, he stood there filling the frame of the doorway in a way that made her instinctively step back. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but he wasn’t what came to mind when she envisioned the options in her mind. It wasn’t simply that he was black. He was tall—much taller than she expected. Smooth bald head. Skin like dark chocolate. Broad shoulders stretching the company-issued shirt, arms thick with muscle from work that clearly demanded strength, covered in tattoos. He wasn’t threatening, but he was imposing in a way she wasn’t used to acknowledging, let alone inviting into her carefully ordered home. He hadn’t said a word. But his presence was commanding. Even intimidating.

Her first reaction embarrassed her even as it surfaced. She wasn’t usually at a search for words, but she hesitated as she took him in. Finally she spoke up. “Yes, the sofa,” she said quickly, gesturing toward the hallway and stepping back into the house, keeping her distance.

As he moved past her, she became acutely aware of the contrast between them—his physical presence commanding space, hers suddenly feeling small, self-conscious. As she looked up at him, she told herself the unease was justified, that it was simply about boundaries, propriety, the way her husband would expect things to be.

And yet, she noticed details she didn’t want to notice: the calm confidence in the way he carried himself, the care he took navigating her narrow hallway, the gentleness that contrasted with his size. It unsettled her more than any crude behavior on his part would have. She noted to herself that while her mind subconsciously flashed scenarios in which he could have his way with her, she remained steadfast, portraying an air of confidence and control.

Her thoughts scolded her but also intrigued her. This is unfamiliar. This should make me uncomfortable. And in a way, I am. Odd. And interesting.

She told herself she would stay in the kitchen while he worked. Instead, she lingered in the doorway as if to monitor his work and make sure to establish that this was her domain. Queen of the castle.

The couch shifted under his control as he moved it alone, muscles tightening and releasing beneath sweat-darkened fabric. The effort drew a low animalistic grunt from him, steady and controlled. She noticed the sheen of sweat before she wanted to—the way it caught the light on his dark skin, impossibly out of place against her white walls and curated decor and her own pale skin. Her eyes snapped away. Then, against her better judgement, they returned.

She felt heat creep into her face, a sharp mix of embarrassment and disbelief. She had never looked at a man this way—never allowed herself to register the physical reality of someone so directly. Her upbringing, her marriage, her sense of who she was had never made room for this kind of attention.

And yet her gaze betrayed her. She watched with amazement as his arms flex as he wrapped them around the heavy sofa and manipulated it with ease. She turned her attention to some knick knacks on a small table, rearranging them as if she’d noticed something out of place, but still slyly watching him in an ornate mirror hanging on the wall. Her eyes dipped—only for a fraction of a second—before she pulled them back up, heart pounding as if she’d been caught doing something shameful. And in a way she had been caught. By herself.

What unsettled Donna most was confusion. She was the picture of composure on the outside. A confident woman monitoring the progress of a laborer, standing there almost as if a foreman on a job site. But inside, she felt resistance braided tightly with curiosity, discomfort tangled with excitement. Did she just bite her lower lip as she watched him? No. just in her head. She’s not a silly schoolgirl.

He finally finished, and in his deep, baritone voice, asked if that’s where she wanted the sofa. It was fine where it was, but she still had him make adjustments as she stood there. Perhaps she realized that his time here in her home was coming to an end, and she was looking for a way to extend it. Perhaps she was looking for another way to display her authority, as if she had any. Finally it was in place and there was no more delaying as he pulled out a pen and his clipboard. He finished the paperwork at the edge of the coffee table, posture relaxed now that the work was done. The room felt smaller with nothing left to move, no task left to hide behind.

“All set,” he said, straightening.

She nodded too quickly and looked up at him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t leave right away. Instead, he hesitated, eyes flicking toward her and then away again, as if weighing something. He looked her up and down and spoke, his voice was lower, more careful.

“You okay?” he asked. “You’ve seem…tense. I didn’t scuff a wall or anything, did I?”

The question caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to deflect, to retreat into politeness, but nothing came out right away. Her heartbeat betrayed her, loud and insistent. Oh god. She thought to herself. I am a schoolgirl!

“I’m fine,” Donna said finally. It sounded unconvincing even to her.

He didn’t step closer—but he didn’t step back either. His gaze held hers longer than necessary, searching, not pushing. Donna looked away as if to search for something to fill the silence. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said evenly. “But I get the sense there’s something going on here.” Her first instinct was resistance—sharp, reflexive. This isn’t appropriate. This isn’t who I am. She crossed her arms, a defensive gesture.

“There isn’t,” she said. He nodded, accepting the words and shrugging. He turned slightly toward the door, giving her an out. The movement sent a surprising spike of disappointment through her, immediate and undeniable. She hated herself for it—and hated that she didn’t move to open the door. The silence stretched as she followed him to the front door.

Her curiosity pressed harder than her fear now, tangled with embarrassment and a strange, unwelcome thrill. She was aware of him in the room in a way she couldn’t undo—his size, his warmth, the quiet confidence in the way he waited rather than advanced.
“You’re very… direct,” she said suddenly, unsure why she’d spoken at all, and embarrassed that she had.

He looked back at her. “Only if it’s wanted.”

That word—wanted—landed heavily. Was she that obvious? She swallowed. Everything in her told her to end this, to reclaim the safety of certainty. But another part of her, newly awakened and deeply unsettling, didn’t want the moment to disappear.

“I don’t do things like this,” she said, almost to herself.

“I’m not asking you to,” he replied. “I’m asking you what you want right now.” The question stripped away every excuse. Her hesitation wasn’t gone—but it shifted. Resistance softened into something more deliberate, more dangerous: choice.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. He stayed where he was. Didn’t assume. Didn’t close the distance. The restraint made her pulse jump harder than any bold move would have. She met his eyes, conflicted, uncertain, but no longer denying the truth stirring beneath it all.
“I’m just… curious,” she said quietly.

The moment stretches—just long enough for her to believe she might turn around and run away. Then he smiled and said, “Yeah…I get that. I’m pretty curious myself.” And he stepped toward her. He reached out slowly, deliberately, giving her every chance to pull away. When his fingers touch her arm, it isn’t hurried or clumsy. It’s careful, assured. He waits for her reaction. She stays still, staring up at him, breathing hard, unsure as he pulls her in a bit closer, gently.

He holds the top button of her blouse and lightly pulls apart. With no effort at all, the button pops free and clatters to the ground. She lets out a gasp of surprise. He repeats the process several more times until her blouse is button free, her belly and cleavage exposed to the cool air. Staring at her, he lifts her ruined blouse from her shoulders and lets it slide down. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest as he steps even closer and reaches around her. She takes in his scent and feels his warmth as her face is inches from his muscular chest while he towers over her. He unclasps her bra with expertise as it too joins her blouse on the living room floor.

She closes her eyes, waiting for him to step closer and embrace her or touch her breasts, but instead he reaches around her again, this time unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the ground. until she’s left standing there in only her panties, jewelry and heels and nothing left to hide behind but her own breath and racing thoughts.

She feels exposed in a way she’s never allowed herself to be. He steps back and looks over her body, smiling with approval. She looks at his body, waiting for him to also disrobe. Instead, he takes a knees in front of her, still tall enough that his face is inches from her full breasts, heaving from her heavy breathing. She longs to pull him in and feel his warm lips on her nipples, hard from cool air and arousal. But he runs both his hands up the outsides of her legs and hooks his big strong fingers around the elastic of her t-back panties and pulls them down until they’re around her ankles. He stands again and takes her hand as if to lead her, helping her step out of her panties. Still fully clothed, he guides her to her new sofa and pushes her down, sitting in front of him. Again he stands over her, looking at her as she waits for what comes next. A myriad of dirty thoughts running through her head. What will he want? Will it hurt? Will he be gentle or rough? Do I want him to be gentle or rough?

She gets her answer as he kneels again in front of her and pushes her back to lean against the sofa, as he puts his big hands on her knees and pushes them open exposing her even more than she already was. This is wrong, she thinks again—but the word has lost its authority. What she feels instead is the rush of defiance, of stepping outside the boundaries she’s lived within her entire life. Every warning she absorbed, every image she was told to fear or reject, collides with the reality of standing here now, her body betraying none of the certainty she once relied on. She simply responds to her carnal desires and decides to give him everything he wants and spreads her legs wide knowing that’s what he’s after. With his hands at the backs of her knees, he pushes her legs open and wide and leans in to taste her. She closes her eyes with pleasure as she feels his warm mouth on her wet pussy. Her head rolls back as his tongue pushes inside, opening her. She can feel his warm breath as he licks and sucks on her and wonders for a moment what it would be like if her husband walked in. She revels in the idea that she simply wouldn’t care and looks down to watch him work his tongue in and out of her. His hands move to her ass and he spreads her open even more than she thought possible and she lets out a moan and quietly says, “oh my god,” as she feels his stiff tongue probe her ass before he returns his attention to her pussy.

She loses track of time as he continues to pleasure her with his mouth until finally he comes up for air. This is it she thinks to herself and stares at his crotch where she can clearly see the outline of an enormous cock in his pants. He see where her attention is and he laughs. “Easy. We’re getting there,” he says. He pulls his tight shirt off and she marvels at his dark skin and muscles. Enormous shoulders and big, cushions on his chest and hard, muscled arms with popping veins, all still glistening from the work he’d done putting her couch into place. Legs now back on the floor as she leans back on the sofa with him still kneeling between her legs, she watches with enthusiasm as he reaches for his belt.

She stares with anticipation as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly. It feels like an eternity as she waits for him to reveal what she wants so badly to experience. Kneeling in front of her, he finally pulls his pants and underwear to midthigh, letting his magnificent cock spill out. She is immediately amazed and flooded with emotions. Surprise. Shock. Shame. Lust. Desire. Trepidation. Fear. She quickly discovers though, that her emotions really don’t matter at this point. She knows he’s going to take what he wants now. And that thought only makes her want him to take it.

He grabs her ankles in each hand and again pulls her legs apart wide, holding her heeled feet up high. Donna takes his massive cock in her hand to guide him. She’s surprised at it’s weight, thinking it must weigh ten pounds and again wondering if she’ll be able to handle him. She guides his dark cock between her legs and feels it’s warmth against her pulsing lips. She anxiously waits as he teasingly lingers there, applying just a bit of pressure as he pushes against her opening. Finally, he eases in slowly and she feels her lips begin to part as she takes him in. Slowly she takes his head, and she moans softly with pleasure. Soon her moans are replaced by wide eyes and muffled gasps and grunts as she begins to take the full girth of his thick cock. Discomfort and pleasure mix together as he finds a slow steady pace. “Oh dear lord you’re so big,” she tells him.

“You like that black cock, ma’am?” He asks. The formality catches her off guard but she decides she likes it, especially considering she doesn’t even know his name. This isnt love. Not even passion. It's primal.

“Oh yes I love it. I’ve never had one so big. Please don’t st…..” She’s suddenly speechless as he pushes deep into her and takes her breath away. “Oohhhhhhh!!” Donna exclaims loudly and she takes him deeper than she’s taken any man. She laughs with pleasure, “Oh god! Yes! That’s wonderful!”

He pulls almost completely out of her and eases all the way back in until she can feel his enormous balls against her ass. “That’s it, bitch,” he tells her, obviously pleased with how she was handling him. She’s taken aback and absolutely thrilled at his dirty talk. It seemed appropriate to accompany something so wrong and taboo that she was doing with this stranger. She grabs her legs with both hands and pulls her knees up high, spreading her legs as wide as she can, showing him what she really wants. And he recognizes it and begins to vigorously pump his cock in and out of her. His heavy balls slap against her ass as he pounds away at her.

“Oh god I can’t,” she says, responding to how hard he’s giving it to her and how deep he's going. “Unfff! God it’s so thick” She never thought she’d ever experience a cock filling her so much, and she tells him. “It’s stretching me so much! God it hurts so good! Give it to me!”

She keeps her legs spread wide for him and runs her hands along his chest and shoulders, now dripping with sweat. She puts her small pale hands on his dark ass, pulling him in and making sure he’s giving her every inch of his manhood. Without the need to hold her legs open any longer, he moves a hand to her shoulders so he can pull her closer as he crashes against her, pushing deep inside. As he continues his relentless rhythm of strokes, his hands move to her neck. A firm grip to assert his dominance that sends her over the edge with a magnificent explosion of ecstasy. “Ohhhhhhh yes I’m cumming! Yes! Yes! YESSSS!!!.” Donna throws her head back, moaning in pure, unbridled passion. “Fuck me good! Oh god gimme all your big black cock! Cum inside me! PLEASE!”

“God damn, lady!” he says as he pounds away at her hard, making slapping noises.

Donna looks up at him and demands, “Do it! Cum in my pussy!” And with that he grunts and convulses and she feels him shoot inside, and it feels like a firehose has erupted inside her. “Oh my god I can feel it! It’s so warm and there’s so much!” She holds still, as she can feel his cock pulsating inside her, emptying every last bit of his virility deep.

And just like that, he’s done and pulls out and stands over her, zipping up and pulling his shirt back on. He looks at her, spent, exhausted, satisfied, literally dipping between her legs. Donna blushes, realizing how she must look, sitting up on the couch. “”Oh my god, thank you for that delivery,” she says. “I didn’t realize how much I needed a new sofa in my life!”

“Pleasure’s mine. Glad I was able to help you satisfy that curiosity of yours,” he says as he drops her paperwork on the coffee table and heads for the door. “You can find contact information and link to an online satisfaction survey on the back of the receipt.”

“Five stars for sure,” she says giggling and laying back on the couch still catching her breath, clothes and loose buttons littered all over the living room floor and glancing at her watch to make sure she’s got time for another shower before her husband gets home.

In the hot steamy shower, lathering up with fragrant body soap, she thinks about her encounter with the delivery man . She knows there will be consequences for her actions. Guilt. Confusion. Shame. But she now knows that those feelings mixed with her arousal and excitement and of course the physical pleasure she experienced have all now come together to open a new world of dirty thoughts and fantasies she never expected. And she won’t be able to deny it any longer.

She runs her hands all over her soapy body, and ponders how she’s going to break to Craig that they’re going to need a different color sofa to better match her décor, which will require another delivery…and soon.