I Knew It Was Wrong

I knew it was wrong.

I knew it was wrong.

I knew it was wrong.

On my wedding day, instead of having the usual wedding day jitters and all that bull, I had sex with another man. I knew it was wrong. My fiancé and I dated for over two years; I believe it was love at first sight. Jeremy had it all. He had the looks, the brains, the money, and the power. Jeremy was easy on the eyes, could put it down in bed, and throw money by the thousands in my direction on a regular basis. He was the most incredible man I knew…that is — until I met Damon.

Damon was the polar opposite of Jeremy. While Jeremy worked at an established fortune 500 company, Damon was a powerful “hustla.” In other words: he sold drugs. Weed, crack, meth, jiggs — you name it, he sold it. On any given day, Damon would probably be wearing baggy designer jeans, a large t-shirt, expensive sneakers, and plenty of gold jewelry and diamonds. Jeremy was thirty-five with a squeaky clean history, no kids, and always wore expensive Armani suits wherever he went. On the other hand, Jeremy was nineteen, had two children (he had the first one at fifteen and the second one at seventeen), was a convicted felon, and a highschool dropout.

Damon was exactly six feet tall. He had golden brown skin and long hair, which he usually kept braided in unique designs. Muscles bulged everywhere on his well-defined body. His stomach and chest was hard as a fuckin rock. His chest, back, and both of his arms were covered in tattoos; both of his ears were pierced, also. Damon could definitely be described as a ‘pretty’ boy – if he didn’t try to look so hard or rough. He had hazel eyes, adorable dimples, and flawless skin.

If anyone knew that I was with Damon, they’d think I was insane. There was something about him that I just couldn’t resist. Every since I laid eyes on him, I was hooked like a crack addict after taking their first hit. Since I’ve given a quick summary of the two men in my life, I might as well tell you a little something about myself.

My name is Sasha. I’m twenty-seven. I work as a flight attendant for Jamaica Air® ; I absolutely love my job as a flight attendant. I’m a native of Jamaica but I moved to Miami a few years back. My skin is the color of fine dark chocolate; I have long thick legs, a small sexy waist, curvaceous womanly hips, large bouncy tits, and a round ass that makes men look twice.

Thanks to my father’s genes, I have a beautiful pair of almond-shaped green eyes. My cheekbones are high and model-like. I have thick luscious lips and a perfect smile. My voice is low, sexy, and heavily laced with an authentic Jamaican accent.

Back to Damon! Before you can fully understand what happened on my wedding day, you must know more about our relationship. I met Damon about a year after Jeremy and I started dating seriously. I remember the day I met him like it was yesterday. Damon was riding first class from Jamaica to Miami. The plane had just taken off and I was walking down the aisle checking on passengers. The first time I walked past Damon, I didn’t even notice him. The second time I walked past him, I had to do a double-take.

There was something about his thuggish look that caught my eye. There was always a part of me that desired ‘bad boys.’ It turns out that he had noticed me, too. Honestly, I don’t see how he couldn’t have noticed me. My double hemmed uniform skirt showed off my long chocolate legs and the crisp white oxford shirt was unbuttoned to show off my ample chocolate cleavage. As I made my way down the past toward him, I switched my hips a little more than usual. I love to tease men.

“Ay, Miss!” he called out.
“Ayo, Miss flight attendant!” he called out again.

I flipped my long natural hair over my shoulder and turned my head. Without thinking, I quickly did an about-face and walked beside his aisle seat. There was no one else in the seat by the window. Our eyes locked for a few seconds, he licked his lips, and I smiled flirtatiously. The connection was crazy.

“The name is Sasha.” rolled off my tongue.

“Damn. I’m feelin the name…hell I’m feeling your body and your accent.”
“My name is Damon. Nice to meet you, Sasha.” he crooned.

Damon’s voice was rough, sexy, and very deep. I couldn’t help but to smile wide.

“Damon, I’m working…is there anything you need?”

“Your number.” he said without hesitation.

I giggled flirtatiously like a little school girl, “I’m sorry to inform you, but I have a man.”

Telling him that I was in a committed relationship didn’t stop him one bit. Damon and I flirted for about five minutes before I realized I had to attend to other passengers’ needs as well as help prepare the in-flight dinner: microwaved plastic-tasting lasagne. Damon asked me out to dinner the following night in Miami (such a coincidence he lived in Miami also) – I accepted. It wouldn’t be any harm for us to go to dinner and have a few drinks. Jeremy was going to be out of town and I needed something to do, so why not?

I was very relieved once the plane landed in Miami. Damon and I exchanged numbers at the gate and went our separate ways. Bright and early the next morning, Damon called me up and we made plans for the evening. We decided we would eat at a Japanese restaurant and visit one of Miami’s hottest club, Pure Electricity.

Since I hadn’t been out on the town in a while, I decided I would go for an over-the-top kind of look. After taking an hour long bubble bath, I slathered my body with luxurious Shea butter lotion that I had picked up from Fredricks’ of Hollywood. Then I lightly spritzed my naked body with vanilla body spray. While standing in front of a wall mirror hanging on the back of my closet door, I admired my beautiful body.

My hands took on a mind of their own and moved slowly across my upper body. Goose bumps rose to the surface of my flawless chocolate skin. I cooed and snapped back into reality. After digging through my closet for thirty minutes or more, I found the perfect outfit: a black, form fitting, sheath-like, halter Baby Phat dress. The slanted hemline stopped at mid-thigh and went down past my knees. It hugged all of my curves and showed off my unique womanly physique.

I admired the halter as I tied it around my neck; the dress dipped low to show off my plentiful cleavage, but not too much. To compliment the dress, I wore a dozen small gold bangles on my left wrist, tasteful large golden hoop earrings, skinny black stiletto heels, and a gold ankle bracelet. My reflection in the mirror pleased me beyond belief. I took the large rollers out of my hair and tousled it with my hands. The nice, large, gentle curls, covered my shoulders.

Damon and I agreed to meet at the restaurant at eight, so I left my house a little before seven thirty to make it there right on time. Damon pulled up just as I was getting out of my car. I laughed slightly when I saw his ride. He promptly got out of his old school nineteen ninety something black Chevy Caprice that happened to be sitting on large chrome rims. I’d guess them to be twenty-two’s. He definitely was riding in a stereotypical “hustla’s” or “dope boy’s” ride.

I quickly reverted my focus back to him. Damon wore a brown polo shirt, brown and tan plaid shorts that hung below his natural waist (which looked sexy as hell by the way), stark white Nikes, and a long gold herringbone chain. Diamond studs that sparkled like silver glitter brought attention to his ears and his fresh braids were very nice. If I’m not mistaken, my pussy quivered slightly in the tiny red thong I was wearing underneath my dress. Damon looked scrumptious. FUCK!

From that moment on, I was in total heated lust. How it happened, I don’t know – but it HAPPENED! Dinner was very nice. I instantly knew Damon was into illegal shit when he pulled out a big ass wad of cash, mostly twenty’s and hundreds. But to be honest, that didn’t throw water on the lust fire being built between my thighs. That night, Jeremy was not even a part of my life. Jeremy who?

Instead of driving separate cars to the club, I hopped in the car with him before I knew it. I stared at him out of the corner of my eye for the majority of the thirty minute ride. That motherfucka knew he was the shit! Just looking at him was making my juices flow like a faucet and the night had just begun. And to top it off, Damon had game out of this world.

“I don’t usually say shit like this to chicks but…” he paused.
“Damn, Sasha! When I say beautiful, I mean fuckin’ beautiful.”
“Sexy, the whole fuckin’ nine. You got me wantin’ to make you my number one.”

“Number one? You’ve only known me for a little over a day.” I laughed.
“And?” he looked at me out of the corner of his eye and smiled.

“Keep your eyes on the road. We’ll talk later.” I suggested.

Can you believe I didn’t make it home until five am? What a fuckin experience. Damon paid my way into the club and treated me to numerous drinks, with his fake ID I must add. He was glued to me at the hip, but I definitely didn’t mind. I downed at least three Walk Me Down’s and a daiquiri or two.