Archive for August 2013
It was something I never anticipated. It was something I wasn’t even looking for. One day I was your typical suburban housewife. My husband and I had been married for 30 years and our kids were grown and on their own. We both worked full-time jobs, but spent nearly all of our spare time together, and usually alone. At 52 years old, my husband Tom is the only man that I had ever made love to. Then, one day, everything changed…
At my husband’s most recent company Christmas party we were approached by a man that I had never met. “Hi Carl, how are you tonight?” Tom asked. It turned out that Carl was a recent hire by my husband’s company in another related department. Right away I noticed that Carl was a handsome man. He was tall at about 6’2″, around 30 years old, and well-shaped. Carl was new in town, so once we connected at the party, he seemed to want to spend most of it conversing with us. Surprisingly, Tom walked away from us to talk someone else, and I was left alone talking to Carl. Seems Carl was recently divorced and moved to town to get away from his ex. No, Carl didn’t take me into some office and have his way with me. The parties my husband’s company had weren’t like that. It was just good food, good wine, and good conversation. So when the night was over, Carl went his separate way.
I didn’t think much about having met Carl, until I got a Facebook request from him two days later. I told Tom about it. Tom said to go ahead and friend him back. He didn’t think it was a big deal. As the weeks went by, Carl and I went from the occasional public posts to private messaging. It started out with nothing inappropriate, just casual conversation. What was happening though was that Carl and I were becoming more and more familiar with each other, more and more relaxed with each other, and more and more personal. At one point, our messages even became sexually suggestive. By this time, I was no longer telling Tom about our messages. Bit by bit I began to secretly look forward to Carl’s messages. The sexual innuendo at that point was never directed towards each other. Instead it was always discussed about others.
I came to find out that Carl was a semi-amateur photographer. He took great photographs of all sorts of things, but he was getting paid for some of them. The ones that he was getting paid for were glamor type photographs of women in various forms of dress and undress. Several times, Carl told me that he would love to do a shoot with me. He told me that I had a certain “allure” and “charm” as he called it. Each time I told him that Tom would want nothing to do with that. And, each time Carl vehemently disagreed stating that his photos were perfect gifts for husbands.
Two months ago Tom had to go out of town on business on a weekend. The first night he was gone I picked up some Chinese food on the way home, and then settled in on the couch with a glass of wine for a quiet night of television and reading. At around 8:30, I was two glasses into my bottle of wine and feeling very cozy when I received a phone notification. It was a message from Carl. He asked how I was occupying my time with my man gone. Apparently, he knew about Tom’s trip even though I purposely hadn’t mentioned it. Carl suggested that this would be a good time to surprise Tom with the glamor photos. At first I rejected his proposal, but Carl kept after me. He told me that it would be a wonderful surprise for Tom when he returned home. After numerous messages back and forth and a few more sips of wine, he somehow wore me down, and I said yes. I still can’t believe I said yes!
Carl arrived at my home at around 9:30 with his arms full of all sorts of equipment and bags. I offered him a glass of wine, which he readily accepted. Before he had arrived, I had thrown on just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, so I wasn’t really dressed for any kind of photo session. When I brought him his drink, he reached down into one of his bags, pulled out a large binder, and said “why don’t we start by you looking through this to see the types of photos other ladies have had taken by me?”
I noticed another book under the one he handed me had a large “X” on the front. I asked him what that one was. “That book is just what the cover implies.” He said. “Those were women who wanted something more explicit.”
“You mean like totally naked?” I asked naively.
“Well…” Carl replied. “There are nudes in the back of the book that you have. Those are tastefully done, but of course only when the client requests them. This other book has women in more explicit positions, along with some that have both men and women.”
“You mean like sex pictures?” I asked.
“Yes, some of them.” Carl replied. “Some are simulated and some are actual sex acts between consenting adults.”
I continued my line of questioning with, “Wow. Who are the men that do that with them?”
In a very matter of fact nature, Carl answered, “Some of them are their husbands. Some of them are guys that model for me for modest fees paid by the lady. And, some of them are me. Some married women seem to like the taboo element of having their picture taken while simulating sex with a black man.”
“Oh my!” I responded. “I think we will just leave that book in the bag, Carl.”
I began looking through the book Carl gave me as he pulled his equipment out. The first section of the book was strictly facial portraits. They were followed by women in sexy dresses. The next section was lingerie shots. Finally, the last section was the nudes. He was right. They were all tastefully taken, with no explicit pussy type shots or anything like that. Some were shot on various sofas, but most were taken in bedrooms. “Are we setting this up here or upstairs?” I asked.
“Wherever you want.” Said Carl. Most ladies like to have them taken in their bed, especially when the pictures are for surprising their husband. It could get awkward having their husband see the photos, recognize their wife, but not recognize the bed she’s lying in.
“Let’s go ahead and go up there then.” I said. As Carl lugged his stuff up the stairs, he asked me which of the photos I wanted to start with. I wasn’t up for the lingerie or nude shots, but I wanted something sexier for Tom than a simple head shot, so I suggested a black dress that was in my closet.
“Great, let’s take a look at it.” Carl said. I pulled the dress out of my closet and showed it to Carl and he loved it. Then Carl said, “One of the things I like to do that you probably saw in the book is simulate removing the clothing over a series of photos.” I think he saw the terror in my eyes when he said, “That doesn’t mean you actually get naked. I just get some photos of you removing shoes, removing stockings, and pulling down a strap on the dress. That sort of thing.”
I didn’t have any stockings, but was surprised to find that Carl kept several unopened packages of stockings in one of his bags for just this type of occasion. I was impressed at how prepared he was. As Carl finished setting up his equipment, I went into the bathroom and changed into my outfit. When I came out, Carl said to go ahead and lie on the bed. He pointed the camera, but did not take any pictures. Instead, he came over to me and said that he always likes to make sure everything is just right. He primped my hair a little. Then, he very carefully tugged at various points on my dress to straighten it. Finally, he gently nudged me into the pose he wanted.
This went on for what seemed like forever as I first removed a high heel, then another. Removing my stockings in front of Carl was incredibly erotic. Between the wine, the camera flashes, and the sexual innuendo, I was feeling unbelievably horny. When we were finished, I was anything but done. “I wish I had some sexy lingerie. I think I would like to try that if I did.” I told Carl. Wouldn’t you know it? Carl had several pairs in one of his bags!
He pulled out a red negligee and said, “Here’s one that would look great on you and should fit perfect. Don’t worry, I always clean these up after I shoot with them.
At that point, I really didn’t care how clean it was. I grabbed it an practically ran into the bathroom to change. Coming out of the bathroom, I wasn’t quite so eager. I felt practically naked in front of my husband’s black co-worker. Carl tried to put me at ease by saying, “Tom will absolutely love seeing that on you. You look absolutely divine.”
I made my way past him and onto the bed. Just like before, Carl came over to primp me. I felt so vulnerable being half naked as his strong, yet gentle hands tussled my hair and tugged at the lacy material. As he worked meticulously for what seemed like forever on straightening the negligee, out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Carl now had an incredibly large bulge in his trousers. Apparently, the sensuality of the situation was having the same effect on him that it was on me. As Carl began taking the photographs, I was telling myself that I wanted Tom to see more. I wanted to give him a little skin in the photo. That was what I was telling myself anyway. In reality, I wanted Carl to see me. I wanted him to see all of me.
Carl had his back to me for a moment working on the camera settings. I reached my hand up, took a deep breath, and slid the dainty material off one of my breasts. When Carl turned around it only took him a moment to notice my new position. “All right then.” He exclaimed. “I see we are ready to spice things up a little.” Carl approached me. He grasped the material around my breast and tugged on it slightly. Then I felt his strong hand gently cup my breast and pull on it to expose more of it.
I heard myself gasp as Carl pulled away from me and went back to the camera for more photos. He only took a couple before approaching me again. This time he grasped on of my thighs and pulled it outwards. I felt totally exposed although I knew that nothing was actually visible to the camera. I loved the way Carl’s large black hands felt on my thigh. I wanted to feel more. As soon as Carl turned his back to me I squirmed without realizing what I was doing. When Carl saw me he just smiled and came back over to re-position me again. This time he seemed to take more time and seemed to keep his hands on me longer. I couldn’t believe how bad I wanted him to just take me and fuck me at that moment.
We were sipping wine between shots and position changes, so I was feeling like another person watching this happen, but our bottle was empty. “Carl, would you be a peach and go get us another bottle from the kitchen pantry?” I cooed. When Carl left the room I took a deep breath as I prepared myself for the unavoidable. Then, I grasped my panties and pulled them down to my ankles. I carefully positioned myself on my left side, facing the camera, with both knees bent. I lifted my right knee and pulled down on the negligee to make sure that it was still covering my crotch. Barely covering, but still covering. All I could hear was my heard pounding as I awaited Carl’s return.
When Carl reappeared with the wine, he immediately noticed my new position and smiled. “Do you think Tom will like this pose?” I asked.
“This one will top them all.” Replied Carl as he poured us each yet another glass of wine.
Carl went over to his camera and took a look at me through the viewer. Then, like before, he approached me in order to adjust my positioning. He placed his strong black hands on my soft white thighs again and placed them just where he wanted them. It felt like the negligee rode up and uncovered my married pussy, but in the position I was in I couldn’t see. Then, I knew for sure I had exposed myself to Carl because I felt his hand touch my mound as he repositioned the negligee over it.
By this time, I was drunk on wine and stoned on lust. As Carl turned back to his camera, I rolled forward and picked up my wine glass for another drink. I didn’t realize that in doing so I had messed up the pose Carl put me in. When Carl looked back through the camera and discovered I had moved he got a great big grin on his face and approached me again. Once again I felt the warm strength of his hands on the sensitive skin between my thighs as Carl dutifully repositioned me. Once I was where he wanted me, he went back to work on adjusting the negligee that barely covered my now sopping wet outer vaginal areas.
Without realizing what I was doing…it’s easy to blame the alcohol isn’t it?…I took my right hand and placed it on Carl’s hand. Then, I nudged his hand downward to my pussy. Carl didn’t need much nudging really. An electric surge through my body indicated to me that Carl’s finger had just engaged my clit. I closed my eyes and pushed downward with my hand while pushing upward with my hips in order to maximize the contact of his hand on my womanhood. I felt Carl’s lips against mine. I opened my mouth to accept Carl’s kiss. The faint scent of Carl’s cologne began mixing with the musky scent of my engorged pussy.
Suddenly all of my senses went cold. Carl had taken a step back. Only a split second had passed, but it felt like days. I opened my eyes. Carl was removing his shirt. I’m sure that brought a smile to my face, but I swear I can’t remember. I watched intently as Carl then removed his shoes, socks, and trousers leaving him standing there in nothing but his underwear. Carl is a handsome man, but at that moment he was more than that. He was a black Adonis standing over me with a large protrusion in his shorts that was meant for my pleasure and my pleasure alone. I desperately wanted to know what he looked like completely nude. Of course, only seconds later I watched intently as Carl pulled his shorts over his throbbing cock and pushed them to the floor.
Carl walked around to the foot of my marital bed and climbed in. I rolled onto my back and willingly spread my legs for the first time with a man other than my husband. Carl pulled the panties away from ankles and then climbed up over me. Once again our tongues met and our lips sealed them together. Carl’s large black lips felt different than Tom’s. Not worse and not better, just different. He pulled the negligee up until it was bunched up above my breasts then took his place atop me. It was then I felt the head of his cock pressing against my vaginal opening. I could feel my labia part as he pushed slightly forward. The day that had started out so mundane and so normal was now the day I became an adulteress. At that moment it didn’t matter. At that moment I didn’t care. I wanted Carl inside me. I moved and pushed my hips trying to get Carl’s beautiful black cock into my body.
I felt Carl’s body push forward. Along with his body sliding up mine, his wonderful cock began filling my body. When Carl reached the spot that Tom’s average size cock could reach I thought he must have been fully inside. I was shocked to find out I was wrong as Carl’s cock continued deeper into me than Tom had ever reached. Then there was that feeling. It was that feeling that every woman longs for whether she knows it or not. It was the unexpected pleasure of Carl’s large round cock head pushing against my cervix. My body immediately seized into a massive orgasm. By the time I had come back down to earth, Carl was slowly moving his magnificent cock in and out of me.
Time and space had no meaning to me. The only thing at that moment that I cared about was the incredible feeling of Carl’s body on mine, his tongue in my mouth, and his cock in my pussy. Carl kept up a gentle pace and, in only a few minutes, I was taken over by only the second intercourse induced orgasm I had experienced in my life. I swear I must have passed out. When I realized what was happening next, Carl’s pace had increased. He was now fucking me with a primordial passion. His cock plunged in and out of me with the vigor that only a young man could produce. I knew he was nearing his climax as his thrusting took on a desperate sensation. My legs were being continually forced apart by the strength of his lunges into me. My body pushed back as hard as I could against him in an effort to escalate the pleasure between us.
Astonishingly, Carl’s cock seemed to swell even further inside me. It felt as though my married pussy was being ripped to shreds. I could hear our voices. Both of us were moaning and grunting. The room was now overflowing with the pungent scent of our mating. I remember glancing over at the mirror on our closet door and seeing this beautiful young black man making love to some mature white woman. I didn’t seem to recognize at the time that I was the woman and Carl was the man. I didn’t care anyway. The whole world at that moment revolved around the incredible sensation between my legs.
Carl’s body began to shake. The wine induced fog was lifting. I realized the gravity of the situation. Carl was inside me without a condom. I should have stopped. I should have stopped Carl. I should have made him pull out. I wanted to, but my body wouldn’t let me because it was happening again. Yes, once again my body was shaking. Carl’s gorgeous black cock was now doing two things. First, it was making me cum for the third time. I was helpless to react. As I shook and shuddered I came to the realization of what else Carl’s cock was doing to me. Carl shoved into me one last time. My hands felt the muscles tighten in his firm ass. Then, without warning, I felt his baby making seeding gushing into my fertile and formerly faithful womb.
Carl’s orgasm seemingly lasted forever as his ejaculation poured wave after wave of sperm inside me. When my own body calmed and the last of Carl’s seed had been deposited in me, I partially came back to my senses. I say partially because Carl never went soft. His wonderful cock was still hard and moving ever so slowly in and out of me. Despite my exhaustion, my body began responding again. My tired soft legs wrapped themselves again around Carl’s hard muscular legs. My small white hands yet again grasped his steadily thrusting black ass. My tongue searched Carl’s mouth for his wonderful tongue. This time it seemed as if it lasted for hours. For the most part I was too tired to cum. However, I did achieve orgasm when Carl finally tensed up and inseminated me again.
Next thing I knew it was daylight. It was late Saturday morning and Carl was still in my marital bed. He was awake, on his back, with his beautiful black cock standing at attention. Within seconds I was on top of Carl and sliding my pussy down over his cock. I lost count of how many times we made love before I finally had to make Carl leave on Sunday afternoon. He was barely out of my pussy and out of the house a half-hour before Tom returned from his trip. I was barely able to get the bed linens changed out before Tom came through the front door. I welcomed my husband home, at the front door, with Carl’s sperm still leaking out of me, and into my soaked panties.
Needless to say that wasn’t the last time I saw Carl. I was hooked. That was eight weeks ago. During the past eight weeks, I have spent countless hours with Carl between my legs. We would meet at his place when I could sneak away. Most of the time, however, it amounted to quickies in one of our cars. Once, I made love to Carl in his office before taking the elevator up to the next floor to visit Tom at work. Somehow I managed to keep it a secret from Tom. I don’t know how I can keep it from him much longer though. How do I tell my husband that I have been fucking his black co-worker? How do I tell my husband that Carl and I have had sex dozens of times without condoms, or for that matter, without any protection whatsoever? How do I tell my husband that I think I am pregnant?
As Roman makes his way up the walk to the front door; he is going over, in his mind, the details of the last few days. He is amazed at how quickly Roberta is catching on to the techniques and how open she is to learn. He checks a mental list to make sure he has covered everything he wanted to and what is still needed.
“Let’s see now. So far, things have been going much better than I had planned. Roberta has become a raving little sex machine. We have one more lesson today with two days of exams after that. I hope that she’s ready for today.” He muses.
Roman walks through the front door but doesn’t see Roberta in her normal spot. He burrows his eyebrows and wonders if she had an appointment that she had not mentioned.
“Roberta,” he shouts, “Are you here? “
“I am here. Sensei”
Roberta rises slowly, from lying on the couch. She sits up, stares blankly at him, and then collapses back down on the couch. He runs over to the couch saying, “What happened?, are you alright? Are you sick or something? What can I do to help?”
Roberta looks up and says, “No, Sensei. I am not sick; I’m just totally exhausted. I was up studying very hard last night. I had so many orgasms in a row that I could not count them all. I slept very well but I am so tired this morning. You been teaching me so much and I don’t want to forget any of it. I know that Tony will be thrilled, when he returns to see what I can do.”
Roman interjects, “Well, I appreciate your efforts; you have been a willing and attentive student. However, sweet girl today is a very important class. You need to be alert. Maybe a pot of strong coffee will do the trick. We can share a few cups while we discuss all the things you have learned and today’s lesson. You can call it a pop quiz.”
Roberta slowly rises from the couch, stretches with a big yarn and walks into the kitchen. She puts on the water for the coffee and gets the sugar and cream. She decides to put a few pastries on a plate also.
Setting up a tray with hot coffee, cream, sugar and the pastries, she returns to the living room. Placing the tray on the coffee table, she sits on the couch next to Roman. She pours them both a cup and gives one to her teacher. After taking a few sips, Roberta looks up at her teacher. “Sensei, I wanted to talk to you about my lesson today. I have been thinking about it and I don’t think I am going to be able to fit those big dildos in my tiny little ass. Furthermore, is it safe?”
Roman answers, “I can understand your worry but there shouldn’t be any problems. You know Roberta, many women says that a good ass fucking is the best of all. As long as you keep things clean and are mindful of what I said at the beginning of our lessons, you and Tony will be able to enjoy everything that I have taught you and that includes anal sex. In fact, anal sex is Tony’s favorite.”
Roberta perks up a little, “Oh, then I will try my very best. I don’t want to disappoint Tony. It would give me such great pleasure to make him smile.”
Roman continues with his lecture, “I’m glad to hear you say that. It is important that you understand that in certain aspects anal sex is not much different from oral sex or vaginal sex for that matter. You must learn to relax your anal muscles just as you learned to relax your throat muscles. The more relax you are, the better you can enjoy the act of having sex, whether it is vaginal, oral or anal. Trusting your partner is crucial in all regards. And basically, there are only two important rules that you must remember about anal sex.”
Roberta looks inquisitively, “What are those, Sensei?”
Roman responds, “You must have a great deal of patience and plenty of lubrication.”
Roberta giggles, almost spilling her coffee. Then she looks confused. “Sensei, I understand the patience, but where do I get the lubrication from. I know Tony works on cars and talks about lubrication but is there lubrication for a human body?”
“I am not kidding,” he says, “This is no laughing matter. Anal sex can be extremely painful if you don’t take the necessary time to let it happen. The lubrication I speak of is simple oil. We will be using KY Jelly today, but I know people to use baby oil, scented oils from bath and body stores. You can also get different lubes from sex shops online and here locally. I would say you and Tony should experiment with a few to see what you both prefer.”
“I see” she replied.
“I did want to go what we have done over the past four days. Did you have any questions or need clarity on anything so far?”
Robert thought for a few seconds, and then shook her head no. “It all has been pretty clear. I do however; wonder if Tony would find pleasure watching me masturbate and do some of these things I have learned.”
He smiled, “You have no idea, how pleasing it is to watch you do all the things you have learned. Men are visual and I am sure that Tony will be overly excited to watch you masturbate. You can use all this as a form of foreplay.”
Roberta took another sip of coffee and placed the cup down, picking up a pastry. She asked, “For play? I don’t understand.”
“Foreplay, F-O-R-E-P-L-A-Y. Oh, come on Roberta, surely you and Tony have indulged in foreplay?”
“Is that what happens, when Tony says he wants to fuck? Sometimes, he says I am not wet enough and he spits on my pussy. Then he lays on me and fucks me until he comes. Once he is done he rolls off and falls asleep. Is that foreplay?”
“No. It seems Tony will be in for a few surprises. You can use all the things you are learning and have learned as a form of foreplay. Foreplay is what you do before you engage in the act of fucking. It helps get you and Tony in the mood and prolongs the enjoyment.
Robert smiles and nods her head in agreement.
“Well if you are ready, and feeling up to it, let’s start class.”
Roberta gets a very serious look on her face.
“There’s no need to worry though. Like I told you, patience and lubrication is the key.” He assures her.
Roman’s comforting words have removed the worried look from her face and her demeanor relaxes.
“So are you ready to begin your lesson?” he presses.
“Yes Sensei. I am ready,”
“Good. I think that we will be using the bedroom again for today’s lesson.”
“Can you teach me how to implement what I have learned as foreplay?” she says as an afterthought as she springs up from the couch, “Shall I remove my clothes now or once we are in the bedroom, Sensei?” she sweetly asks.
“Yes,” says Roman, “In the bedroom would be the place to remove your clothes, since that is where we will be studying today.”
Roberta bounces into the bedroom, as Roman follows. She starts to strip her clothing and soon she is completely naked only wearing a schoolgirl smile.
“Roberta”, he shouts, “What the hell are you doing?”
Roberta cowers slightly, “I am sorry, Sensei,” she says. “I disrobed, isn’t that what you said to do? I am eager to get started and wanted to get my clothes out of the way. Did I do something wrong?”
Roman tells her, “Making things quicker is not always the best way. A man likes to watch a woman remove her clothes. Sometimes, the slower she does it, the more excited the man feels. So I want you to put your clothes back on. You want to know how to implement foreplay, let’s start here.”
Roberta does as instructed and puts back on her entire outfit. She waits for more instructions from Roman.
“Now”, Roman instructs, “I want you to remove your clothes very slowly for me, beginning with your blouse. Think about Tony and I want you to see his eyes on you. Know this; you have something that he wants. You are a beautiful sensual woman, he is your man and you want him to enjoy seeing you.”
Roberta gives a very sexy smile to her teacher, as she removes her blouse. She slowly unbuttons it and sashays it off her shoulder. Letting her blouse fall to the floor, she starts to wiggle her hips in a small figure 8. As her hands rises to unhook her bra, Roberta’s beautiful breasts press against the black satin fabric. Once free, they pop out and lightly bounce. “Like this Sensei?” she asks as she shimmies her breasts with her hands now out stretched at her sides.
Roman eagerly responds, “Yes, Roberta, just like that.”
She then undoes the button to her jeans, unzips them and puts her thumbs into the waistband and begins to pull them down.
“No, no,” Roman interrupts, “I want you to turn around and show me your ass, as you remove them.”
Roberta turns around and begins to remove her jeans slowly. As the material reaches the top of her ass, she bends over so her firm pear shaped cheeks are poking at him. The material then clears her entire ass. Still fully bent over, she steps out of jeans and tosses them on the chair.
Roman’s mind is whirling, “It doesn’t get any better than this. I know it will later on but for right now, life is good.” He thinks to himself as he watches Roberta’s amateur striptease.
With a growing hard-on, Roman is shortly incapable of moving.
“Roberta,” he asks, “will you please go in the living room and bring my storage box in here.”
Roberta quickly prances her way into the living room to retrieve the box.
While she is out of the room, he adjusts his cock, so that he is more comfortable and tries to think of his ex-wife to cause him to calm down a bit.
When she returns, she is all smiles, “Shall I lie down on the bed?” she playfully asks.
“No,” says Roman, “you may get on the bed but I want you on your hands and knees. However before that, let’s chat a few minutes about foreplay and what you can do besides taking your clothes off slowly.”
Roberta places the storage box down on the chair and walks over to Roman. He takes her in his arms and starts to slowly and sensually kiss her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks and then he takes her right earlobe into his mouth and sucks gently. He continues to kiss her right below her ear and plants a few sucking kisses on her neck.
Roberta feels her body respond to him and tenses.
“Is something wrong, Roberta?” he murmurs as he descends down to her breast with more kisses.
“Sensei, this does not feel right. I am having a reaction to you that I should only have for Tony, my husband. I am confused.”
“Roberta, foreplay is a preamble to sex. If don’t right, what you are feeling will happen no matter who is doing the foreplay. Now you try, just think about being sexy and do whatever comes to mind.”
Roberta starts to kiss Roman, as he kissed her. He closes his eyes and enjoys her lips and tongue on his neck. However, since he is still fully clothed she can’t go any further down. However, she leans into his body and starts to grind herself into him.
“U-um, yes you have the picture. Now let’s get started with today’s lesson. Get on your hands and knees on the bed.” He says slightly pushing her away and breathing deeply to calm himself.
Roberta does as she is told. As she climbs on the bed, she looks around and gives another sexy little smile. Wiggling her ass, she says, “Like this, Sensei?”
Roman opens his box up and pulls out some of his toys. He also pulls out the bottle of lubrication. “That’s just perfect, Roberta. Now I want you to relax completely. I am going to start with some lube in your ass.”
Roman opens the bottle and squirts a small stream of the lube down the crack of her sweet buns. He uses his index finger to push it into her asshole.
“Oh!, Sensei, that feels very nice!” she squeals.
Slowly he keeps poking his finger in and out of her ass. Adding more lube, he now places a second finger in and keeps pushing back and forth with the full length of his fingers. Roberta begins to moan softly.
“I want you to rub your pussy.” He says huskily.
Her hand sneaks down between her legs and she begins massaging her pussy, as instructed.
“See, patience and lubrication does the trick. Just keep relaxing and enjoy the ride.”
Roman picks up the anal beads vibrator from the bed. He removes his fingers from her ass. She lets out a quiet but disappointing sigh. He places a little more lube on the beads and slowly feeds them into her rectum. Once again, she begins to moan with delight. He gets it all in and switches on the vibrator. Her ass jerks upwards at the sensation.
“Oh Sensei, she screams, “this feels wonderful. Please don’t stop. I want you to put it deeper in my ass.”
Well, he has run out of beads and he’s got the whole 5″ in. “Perhaps this will help,” he says.
Roman leaves the flexible shaft dangling from her ass while he reaches for the “Tsunami Wonder’. He runs lube down the 7″ of the vibrator’s shaft. As quickly as the anal beads are removed, He switches on the vibrator and plunges all 7″ into Roberta’s twitching ass.
“Oh faster, Sensei, faster,” she cries.
As he is running the full length of the vibrator in and out of her ass, she is furiously rubbing her pussy. After a few minutes of this, her body can no longer contain itself. Waves of ecstasy roll over Roberta. Her hips and ass are bucking forward and back meeting her teacher’s plunging movements. With a thunderous scream, she reaches the highest level of pleasure yet. She explodes with another massive orgasm.
“Oh my, Sensei,” she pants, “I never realized how wonderful something could feel. I never…I never…well, I just never knew.”
With the vibrator withdrawn from her ass, Roberta rolls on her side and curls into a fetal position.
“I knew you would like it if we just took the time,” he says matter of factly. “It just takes a little time. Now do you think that you might be able to try the 9″ dildo?”
“I will try Sensei, but can we go slowly again,” Roberta answers.
“You can take all the time you wish because I want you to fuck yourself with it.” he says.
He hands her one of the 9″ dildos. She gets back up on her hands and knees and tries to place the head near her asshole but she seems to be fumbling a little. He instructs her to turn herself on the bed so that her ass faces the mirrored closet doors.
“This will give you a better view of things,” he adds.
Roman helps by placing some more lube in her ass and spreads some along the length of the dildo. Roberta looks around her side as she attempts re-entry. Without much effort, she slips the head of the dildo in her ass. Slowly she strokes it in and out, gaining more length as she goes. Roberta now has about 4″ of the dildo up her asshole and her moaning begins to rise.
“Sensei, this is so much bigger. I don’t know if I can fit anymore inside me,” she cries.
“Just take your time, Roberta,” Roman says, “You’re doing just fine. Just relax your muscles. Don’t try to fight it.”
It is clear that the extra width is challenging her. She’s a trooper though; wanting to be able to please her husband makes her eager to try even more. She keeps stroking the dildo in and out, in and out. Soon another inch has sunk into her depths. Taking her time and trying her best Roberta has now managed to get 7″ of the dildo up her ass. She now attempts to use her other hand to rub her pussy but has a difficult time maintaining her balance. Giving up on that, Roberta concentrates more on her initial task. Roman now sees that her hips are starting to grind again. More and more she tries to go deeper. In a short time now, she has the entire 9″ going in and out of her ass. The bed is shaking and her body is trembling. Her self-indulgent, fast speed plunging is peaking.
“Ah, ah, ah,” she cries, “here I come!” She collapses on the bed.
“Roberta, that was just fantastic, you are a born natural. I have never had a student who approached her lessons with such fervor. I am very proud of you.”
Roberta rolls over on her back and looks up at her teacher. She has beads of sweat on her forehead, “Thank you, Sensei. I never could have done it without you. You deserve all the credit. Well, now when someone tells me to ‘go fuck yourself in the ass,’ I will know exactly what to do.”
They both burst into laughter.
“Roberta, you are a treasure,” he says. “Now get plenty of rest tonight; and I mean rest. Tomorrow is the first day of final exams.”
As Roman turns to leave, a very pleased and content Roberta replies, “I will Sensei, but I will also study some more. I want to get the highest grades that I can get.”
Tyler realized he was holding his breath as he watched his young fiancée press her open mouth between the legs of the stunning black-haired beauty. Monica’s tongue flicked over the engorged clitoris, standing stiff and erect like a hard little penis peeking out from the clitoral hood that could no longer contain it. Kerry made a purring noise as she licked, reaching out with both hands to press Monica’s face firmly against her slick, hairless pussy. Then she used her hands to rub Monica’s mouth rhythmically up and down, her pussy squelching audibly and wetly as the young redhead worked. If his fiancée was reluctant about being forcibly face fucked, she voiced no objections.
“That’s it, you hot little bitch, fuck my pussy with your mouth,” Kerry growled, and Monica flicked her tongue even faster, stopping only to swirl it around the clit. Kerry groaned and pressed her face forward still harder.
Tyler idly wondered if the startling size of the brunette’s pleasure center was due to steroid use. The 21-year old resident assistant was a physical-education major, body-builder and competitive fitness model, and Tyler knew that the same steroids that some women body-builders used to carve their muscles for competitive advantage could permanently enlarge their clits. Kerry didn’t have the masculine looks that some female iron-pounders did, but her clit really was enormous, and she had a surprisingly aggressive edge for an inexperienced wife they were supposed to be leading into cuckolding.
The whole situation was getting weirder by the minute. When Monica had first approached Tyler about serving as a bull for Kerry and her husband, Tyler had been intrigued, all the more so by his fiancée’s suggestion that the real purpose was to bring the novice couple as their first recruits to the interracial cuckolding circle they were putting together for Monica’s bull, Jake. It didn’t hurt in the least that at 5 feet 5 inches and 120 pounds of rock solid muscle, Kerry was a knockout. The whole idea of serving as a kind of “Judas Bull” made Tyler hard as hell, a fact Monica didn’t hesitate to tease him about.
In the few weeks they’d known each other, Monica and Kerry had become fast friends, hanging out after classes were over for the day, chatting about Kerry’s husband Mark. It hadn’t taken Kerry long to open about to Monica about her dissatisfaction with her husband’s prowess in bed. Monica hadn’t hesitated to let Kerry know that Tyler was very well hung and knew how to use it. One evening, fueled by a Margarita or two too many, Monica had also opened up about their increasingly frequent experience with cuckolding. Kerry had been very curious, particularly about how Tyler could stand knowing that his fiancée was fucking another guy, but Monica had assured her that Tyler was totally into it.
“Nothing gets Tyler harder than seeing me getting pounded by Jake’s huge black cock,” she’d said, and then offered Tyler up as a bull for Kerry and Mark.
Kerry had accepted on the spot and pushed Monica to set a date for the event. It had been easy. Maybe too easy, but they had followed through with their plans, set a date, and showed up for the proffered event.
Mark sat back and watched his wife as she ground Monica’s face into her pussy. Inwardly, he smiled. Kerry had had no trouble at all taking charge of the tiny redhead, and Mark fully expected the same control as the evening progressed. At 6 feet 5 inches tall, he was as ripped as his wife and just as confident in his prowess with the muscle that bulged between his legs. The hints that Kerry had given about her dissatisfaction with Mark’s performance in bed had been just the right lure to bring Monica and her fiancé over for what they expected to be an evening of cuckolding. Well, it would be an evening, but it wasn’t going to be Mark who got cuckolded. He was every bit the hung bull that he looked in his tee shirt and soft terrycloth shorts.
If Monica had bothered to ask around, she might eventually have learned that Kerry and Mark were anything but newbies to the cuckolding scene. In fact, they were quite the opposite. The married couple’s favorite sexual recreational pastime was introducing young first-timers to the lifestyle with Mark serving as the bull. Physically intimidating, Mark easily dominated the other male as he and Kerry seduced the girlfriend or wife. He was supremely confident that he could give any wife or girlfriend the fucking of her life, and at 10.5 inches and thick as a beer can, and able to cum 4 or 5 times in a night, he’d never been proven wrong. Ordinarily he and Kerry preferred first-timers, but Monica was certainly attractive and the notion of turning the tables on the would-be “bull couple” compensated for the fact that she and Tyler were already experienced as a cuckold pair.
Kerry looked over at Tyler. Time to move things along. “Tyler,” she said, “why don’t you come over and get Monica ready?”
“Ready for what?” Tyler wondered, but crossed to the bed where his wife was kneeling as she worked on Kerry pussy, and began to gently lick Monica’s pussy. The young redhead moaned as she felt her husband’s tongue slide up and down her labia and then start caressing her clitoris. She was already very aroused, and it did not take her long before she was very wet. Tyler was just starting to get into it when he became aware of Mark’s presence by the side of the bed.
“Thanks, dude. I’ll take over now,” Mark said, and without thinking Tyler moved aside, only then realizing that the muscular jock was completely naked.
Based on Kerry’s representations of her husband’s inadequacy in bed, Tyler had expected Mark to be of less-than-average size. He saw with a shock that Mark’s cock was enormously thick, long, and heavily veined, capped at one end by a mushroom shaped glans and at the other by a pair of alarmingly large and heavy balls. Before Tyler could say a word, Mark knelt behind Monica and rubbed the head of his cock against her well-lubricated pussy and pressed himself forward. Tyler’s wife struggled as she felt the unexpected pressure on her labia, but Kerry held on to her head firmly, keeping her in position, and Mark’s invading cock-head slipped into the outer opening while he pressed forward. Despite her surprise at the development, Monica pushed back by reflex, and Mark’s big cock slid deeper inside her. A moment later, and he was buried in her pussy completely, pausing for only a few seconds before slowly withdrawing most of his cock and then sliding forward. This time, he slid in without any resistance at all, as Monica opened fully to accept him.
Monica, her mouth still firmly pressed against Kerry’s now-sopping cunt, could only give an exclamation of “Mmmmmmm,” as she felt Mark’s invading cock begin to slowly pump in and out of her well-stretched pussy in a slow rhythm. She gave herself over to it, no longer caring that what was supposed to be happening was the reverse – that Tyler should instead have been fucking Kerry and cuckolding Mark.
Tyler sank heavily down into the overstuffed chair set near the bed. Having looked forward to being a bull for the evening, he was completely stunned at the turn of events. Not only was he not fucking Kerry, he was being cucked by Kerry’s husband, who was now stroking his massive cock in and out of his petite redheaded fiancée’s pussy. From the looks of it, Monica was enjoying herself thoroughly as her distended inner lips clung wetly to Mark’s cock as the bull increased his rhythm. Monica moaned as loudly as she could manage given that her face was muffled by Kerry’s pussy.
He tore his gaze away from his wife and glanced at Kerry. The brunette’s muscular legs were spread open as widely as she could manage, and she was now actively humping Monica’s face. Wet sounds emanated from the place where Monica was face-fucking Kerry, her thighs glistening slickly with her juices.
Kerry looked over at Tyler and smiled wickedly. “Your little slut of a fiancée really knows how to eat pussy,” she said. Then she looked at her own husband, kneeling behind Monica. “Fuck the little bitch hard, Mark. Make her scream while her cuck boyfriend watches!” Mark increased his pace and Monica groaned loudly.
“You love it, you little slut, don’t you? Tell us how much you love my husband’s big cock in your cunt while your boyfriend watches,” Kerry demanded. She pulled Monica’s mouth away from her pussy, holding her up by her hair.
Monica sobbed with arousal. “I love it,” she said to the brunette. Then she turned to Tyler. “I love Mark’s huge cock fucking my hot cunt while you watch. It gets me so hot to cuckold you.”
She gasped as Kerry forced her face down to her pussy once again and started eagerly licking the hugely distended clitoris, sucking it up between her lips like it was a miniature cock and then rapidly flicking her tongue over the tip. That was enough, finally, to send Kerry over the edge, and the brunette arced her back, squeezed Monica’s head between her muscular thighs and, grunting, began shaking with the force of her orgasm. She finally fell back against the pillow and opened her legs. Monica’s entire face was slick with Kerry’s juices, and she had a dazed look as Mark continued to pump in and out of her pussy. Finally, the steady rhythm proved too much and she started to shake and moan.
Mark grasped Monica by her hair and lifted her head up, turning her face toward Tyler. “Tell your cuck boyfriend that you’re cumming on my big cock,” he instructed.
“Yessss,” Monica hissed. “Oh, god, Tyler, he’s fucking me so good, he’s so damn big that I’m going to cum really hard on his bull cock,” she wailed. Then her thighs started quivering uncontrollably as her orgasm sent waves of pleasure through her while Mark thrust into her, relentlessly.
Tyler sat still, mesmerized by the sight of his beautiful fiancée once again climaxing on another man’s cock. He no longer cared that they’d been set up and used by Kerry and her husband; right now he just wanted to see Mark pump a huge load of cum into Monica’s womb. As if on cue, the bull grunted and began fucking his fiancée harder. Monica moaned as the tempo of his fucking accelerated, her pussy now completely distended by the beer-can thick 10 inch cock that drove into her relentlessly, while Kerry urged Mark to fuck the tiny redhead still harder.
“Come on, Mark, you can fuck harder than that,” she said. “Make the little cunt scream. You own her pussy, so use the bitch like the fuck toy she is and show her cuck boyfriend what a real bull can do to his fiancee”
Monica’s ass was slapping against Mark’s abdomen as he pounded into her faster and faster. She was moaning continuously as another orgasm inexorably approached, and she felt her pussy began to spasm and squeeze the huge cock, pulling it still deeper into her. Though her eyes were tightly closed, she could see stars exploding against her eyelids, and she screamed incoherently as her climax took over.
“Jesus, Tyler!” Mark exclaimed as he felt the redhead’s pussy contract. “Your little slut’s milking my cock.” A moment later, he shoved himself as deeply as he could into Monica and felt himself explode. Jet after jet of his hot thick semen shot into her womb as her cries of pleasure echoed around the room. As the last ejaculation left him, he began to fuck the now-sloppy pussy without losing his hard-on.
As Mark fucked Monica with renewed vigor, Tyler heard a knock at the door. Kerry got up, put on a short robe and left the bedroom. Tyler heard the front door open and close, and then voices, one of them Kerry’s and the other distinctly male. A moment later, the bedroom door opened, and Kerry returned, followed by a tall black man. Tyler’s jaw dropped and his heart pounded in his chest. This was getting completely out of control.
Seeing his obvious alarm, Kerry smiled. “This is our friend Ron. Monica said she loves big black cock, and Ron’s is very big and very black. He just loves fucking little white women in front of their boyfriends or husbands. Mark and I can attest to that fact, since Ron bulls for us.” Tyler could only gape in astonishment.
“You see,” Kerry continued, “Mark and I are both tops with white couples, but we’re also a cuck couple for Ron, so you’re going to get cucked twice today – once by a big white cock and once by a huge black one.”
Ron smiled and winked at Tyler. “I never do understand why you white boys are so eager to give up your wives and girlfriends to black bulls. But I’m sure glad you are.”
He started undressing, revealing himself to be even more ripped and cut than Mark. He paused for a moment, and then slid his boxers to the floor and stood naked. Tyler gawped. Hanging between Ron’s muscular thighs was the biggest, thickest, blackest cock he had ever seen. He guessed it was close to 7 inches flaccid, and at least as thick as Mark’s – maybe even thicker. If Mark’s cock was huge, Ron’s was surely monstrous.
Kerry laughed wickedly. “Ron’s ruined more pussies for white cocks than anyone we’ve ever met. One night with him and no wife or girlfriend is willing to settle. That’s why he gets my pussy anytime he wants, day or night, and now he’s going to get Monica’s.”
Ron kneeled on the bed in front of Monica and held his cock out toward her mouth. Without hesitating, she opened wide and took the massive head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head. Mark slowed his rhythm so that Monica could concentrate better on getting Ron hard. She struggled valiantly to take more of the now-tumescent black monster into her mouth, but it was an obvious struggle.
Kerry kneeled at the side of the bed and began to help, stroking the thick shaft while Monica sucked the head. Then Kerry started licking as well. The two women swirled their tongues simultaneously over Ron’s cockhead, with beneficial results, and he visibly stiffened. Tyler stared in stupefaction. As Ron’s cock reached full erection, it struck him that it was more or less like watching an empty fire hose fill up with water.
“Mark, time to pull out,” Kerry said, and her husband obligingly withdrew from Monica’s distended pussy, leaving her gaping open. Ron flipped the little redhead onto her back and lined up the head of his huge cock with her vaginal opening, slick with her own lubrication and the cum that Mark had poured into her.
Monica gave a little gasp as Ron pushed into her, then whispered “Slowly,” as she felt herself stretched to the limit by the new invader. Even stretched as she had been by Mark’s big cock, and slippery with his cum, Monica was struggling to take Ron. She felt full, as full as she had ever been, and willed herself to relax so she could take the black cock deeper while Ron pushed into her with a steady pressure. It scarcely seemed possible, but Monica could feel her deepest recesses opening up to permit deeper penetration. She looked down toward the place where she and Ron were joined together and saw, to her surprise, that most of his cock had disappeared from view.
“You stretched the little slut out real good, Mark,” Ron said. “Never figured she’d take all of me so easily, but it’s in there and it looks like she’s enjoying it.”
Ron was right. Now that he’d managed to get his cock into her pussy, Monica was starting to get aroused again. Very aroused. Impatient for a more intense experience, she looked up at Ron and said in a low, throaty voice, “Fuck me, now, you bastard.”
Ron chuckled. “Glad to oblige, little lady.”
He drew part way out and slid in again, surprised that the tiny redhead was stretched enough to take it. On his next stroke he pulled out further and pushed in a bit harder, half expecting Monica to protest, but she made no complaint. With his third stroke, he began to fuck in earnest, setting a slow but steady pace and rotating his hips to help open up the pussy still further.
Monica moaned aloud as she felt the monster cock stretching her like never before. Suddenly, without warning, she felt an orgasm flare like a bolt of electricity at the bottom of her spine, racing to her brain. It was so sudden and so intense that she was able to issue a strangled “Oh my god” before she convulsed with the force or her climax. She grabbed Ron’s hips and ground them into her, increasing the intensity of the orgasm.
None of this escaped Kerry’s close attention. “Damn, Ron, the hot little bitch is already cumming. Keep it up!”
She turned to Tyler, who was watching intently. “She sure can fuck a big cock, can’t she?” Tyler nodded. “I can pretty well guarantee you that by the time the evening’s over, Ron will completely own your fiancée’s pussy, just like he owns mine. I fuck him anytime, anyplace, and any way he wants me.”
By now, Monica had her legs up as far as she could reach, with her heels hooked on Ron’s broad back. She grunted and moaned incoherently as Ron fucked his massive black cock in and out of her pussy. She was totally stretched out now, and Ron was building up a strong and concerted rhythm as he fucked. As abruptly as the first one, a second orgasm exploded in Monica, and she struggled to catch her breath as she realized another spike was rolling in just as the current peak was starting to ebb.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she moaned and grunted like a mantra as the third orgasm crashed in on the tail end of the second. “I can’t stop cumming!”
She tried to slow Ron’s motion, but he was having none of it and picked up the pace. Monica realized she was helplessly out of control and gave herself over to the experience.
“You want me to stop?” Ron asked, smirking down at the little redhead beneath him.
“Oh, good lord, no – don’t stop until you’ve fucked me out completely and filled me up with cum,” Monica wailed.
Ron teased her by sliding his cock out and rotating his hips as Monica moaned in frustration. “Tell me whose pussy this is,” he demanded. “Is it your boyfriend’s?”
“No, no, it isn’t,” Monica gasped.
“Then whose is it?” Ron asked again.
“Oh god, it’s yours, you own it, I’ll do anything you want, but fuck me more,” the redhead replied, grabbing Ron’s ass and trying to force him back in her.
Ron willingly obliged, pumping into Monica as hard and fast as he judged she could take. She gasped in pleasure as yet another orgasm seized her and shook her, and she rode the wave as it crashed in on her, successive waves of pleasure making her shake and shudder uncontrollably. She felt Ron’s cock get even harder, believing that he was, at last, getting ready to climax, but she was wrong, and he fucked her relentlessly, making her cum over and over again.
By now she was having what amounted to a continuous orgasm as she fucked, peaking intensely but never really coming down from the climax. She was having trouble catching her breath and was feeling dizzy, letting herself be fucked like a rag doll. Ron’s cock got harder still, and he began to grunt as Monica was vaguely aware that his own orgasm was approaching.
As he pounded her, Monica could feel an even bigger orgasm building inside her, approaching like a tidal wave. She realized she was screaming and sobbing in pleasure, when Ron suddenly thrust into her as hard and as deep as he could spurting gush after gush of semen into her already deluged womb. As he came, Monica’s own climax crashed in on her. She heard a roaring noise in her ears and the room started to go dim and finally black.
“God, Ron, you just fucked her until she passed out,” Kerry exclaimed. She looked at Tyler. “This ever happen before?” she asked. Tyler shook his head. “Well I think you guys just got owned by a black bull master. Better get used to her spreading for Ron whenever he wants. Just like I do.”
Ron withdrew his tumescent cock from Monica’s ruined pussy. She gaped open so much that Tyler could see quite far into her, the collection of white semen clearly visible where it pooled in her recesses.
I would like to thank WiccanMuse, NoSnow, Kris and Nadia from the Literotica Editors Program, as also two real-life friends who took a look at this story. I have chosen to ignore some of my editors’ advice. If you like something about this story, it’s probably the parts where their advice has been taken.
Chapter One: Paul
Being sixty-five tends to make one pretty set in his ways, but I suppose I have always been a bit of a tightass.
I don’t have a very long back-story to tell. I had been raised conservatively, an only child, by strict parents; attended military school followed by West Point; earned a couple of hearts in Vietnam. Married Anne, who I had only kissed exactly once before our wedding. Fathered three children and named them Mary, John and Janette. I retired from the corps a Colonel.
Sex in my life had been fairly enjoyable, reasonably frequent and respectably unadventurous as long as I was married. When my wife succumbed to a short, sudden illness a few years ago, I missed her, but didn’t really miss the sex. It’s not that I never got the urges for physical release but, being an ex-military man with iron self-discipline, I have found many alternative pursuits. Golf, carpentry and woodcarving, voracious reading, and running marathons seem to take my mind off such matters most of the time, but honestly, maybe once a fortnight, I take matters in my own hand, so to speak, with the centerspread of a girlie magazine open in my lap. Never could get with internet porn, honestly. I suppose I’m old-school that way.
Today, however, the situation has evolved into something I could never have imagined.
I had spent last night restlessly dreaming and woke up in my sparsely furnished bedroom feeling depressed and irritable. I set off on my daily eight-miler this morning determined to get a personal best. As I turned into the last mile, I realized that I would not be able to finish in time. Something inside me snapped. Years of loneliness so effectively repressed until now seemed to be tied to my ankles. The run turned into a personal battle between me and my waning years. I lengthened my stride, almost giving myself a heart attack as I ran. That last mile may have been a suicide attempt. I reached home sobbing freely, a burning stitch in my side, 32 seconds after the clock had run out.
Last night’s dream came back to me. I had seen myself having sex with a woman. We were in a sterile white room with mist for walls. The floor was cold and hard under my knees. I was behind her, holding her waist as I fucked her.
“Anne!” I had cried as I thrust into her like a man possessed.
But then suddenly, I looked up. Anne was standing there, in the flowing white dress I had buried her in, looking at me silently. Who was I fucking? Someone else! My mind rebelled at the thought. Anne didn’t look angry. I had been fiercely faithful to her throughout our life together, having firmly rejected several advances by several women, and I knew for a fact that she had been equally devoted to me. But now, in my dream she smiled, turned and started to walk away.
“No! Anne!” I screamed, pushing the other woman away. I rushed forward, reaching for my wife. But she dissolved into the mist. And I woke up.
My dead wife was giving me permission to have sex with other women through my dreams. Extra cheese.
I had to get this crap out of my system and get back to my sedate existence.
I walked over to the shed in the backyard. The secret cardboard box full of old Playboys and a bottle of lubricant that I had at the back came out. So did a couple of bottles of fifteen year old scotch. I flipped my phone off its hook, locked myself up and drew all the curtains. Downing two shots of the scotch, I sank into the rich maroon embrace of my living room couch and reached into the box. Ah… Danielle De Vabre, November 1971. Poetically, almost a spitting image of Anne. It began.
The June heat rose from the floorboards as I sat there and spanked the monkey between single malt interludes. An hour before noon, I had drunk myself into a stupor and jacked off to half a dozen naked two dimensional women. After that, I passed out.
The doorbell rings at six PM, driving cold nails into my head and jolting me awake.
“Daddy! Daddy, are you in there? Open up!”
It is Mary, my eldest…also my bossiest.
I stagger to the door and she bursts in, all worry and concern.
“What’s going on, Dad? Your phone isn’t working…Your cell is turned off… Why aren’t you…”
She stops dead in her tracks. Fuck! The magazines! They’re strewn all over the carpet, centerfolds unfolded. Tissues…lube…the characteristic smell…No great feats of deductions are required to arrive at the reason for the mess. My hangover vanishes in an instant.
“Give me a second will you?” I say calmly. Grabbing her shoulders I turn her around, push her right back out the door and close it behind her. It takes me two minutes of feverish scurrying about to reconstitute the secret jack-off box and dump the tissues into the wastebasket in the kitchen. Once I’m done, I pause. Can’t face her right now, I decide.
“I’m fine, Mary. Why don’t you come back … um… tomorrow…?”
There is a minute of silence. I’m starting to think she has left, when quietly, she knocks.
“Open the door, Dad.”
“Look, sweetheart, I’m fine. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
“Dad…just open the door…”
“Daddy,” she says sweetly, “I swear if you don’t open this door right now, I will get a sledgehammer from your shed out back and smash it in, okay?”
She would too. I had spent a week on that door, hand carving the Corps insignia into the wood. I open the door.
She walks straight past me into the kitchen. I flop down on the couch, head in hands. Mary walks in a minute later with two cups of coffee. Mine is black, very bitter. She finds half a bottle of scotch that has survived the day, and drops some into her own. Understandably, she doesn’t ask me if I want some, not that I do. We sit and sip. Just when the silence starts getting heavy, Mary pipes up,
“You know Dad, Kath was asking about you the other day.”
Katherine is this woman who works in Mary’s office. A seriously sexy forty-two year old divorcee who had practically thrown herself at me when I had met her at Mary’s house a month ago.
“Dammit, Mary not this again.”
“Come on Dad! How long do you think…”
“Don’t say it, Mary.”
“…you need to be in mourning?”
I am about to tell her to get out but it doesn’t happen. Because somewhere in the back of my mind, I know she’s right. I am being unreasonable. Anne has been gone five years. I will always be in mourning for her. But I also have a life to live.
“…I don’t like dumb blondes.” I finish weakly.
“Katherine is a very smart lady,” Mary says, fixing me with a disapproving look, “She went to Yale.”
“Yale is a bordello,” I declare, “She’s a trollop.”
“Daddy!” Mary gasps in shock. Then a hint of a smile appears on her lips. I grin back at her. We burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“She is though, isn’t she?” Mary says, wiping a tear from her eye. More scotch finds its way into her coffee.
“Can you believe she asked me…?” I stop just in time, mentally kicking myself.
“What? What did she say?”
“Nothing, forget it. She’s really forward.”
“Come on Dad! What did Kath ask you?”
“Well… I told her I worked with wood as a hobby. And she asked if she could come over and…you know…”
Mary didn’t get it.
“…learn to work on my wood…”
It took a moment. Then she squealed, wide eyed, hand on mouth, “Oh. My. God!” Another minute of mirth follows, punctuated with Mary’s ‘Oh my Gods’. When it finally dies down, Mary’s concern is back.
“Dad, please go out with Kath. Once. For me.”
“Not gonna happen, Mary”, I say firmly.
“Do you want me to fix you up with a brunette?” she asks slyly, “There’s Justine from accounts. Very classy girl… aaaaaand… she’s into older men.”
“See this?” I say, pointing at my face, “This is how a marine blushes. See? See? Seriously, Mary, no fix-ups.”
“I cannot trust you to do this on your own, Dad.”
“What! Young lady, let me tell you, I can find women on my own.”
“I know…they were all over the floor here just now.”
“Ouch.” I say plaintively.
“Sorry. Look, Dad… have you seen yourself? You’re a real catch. I mean, you’re really handsome. Fit as a fiddle. Well-to-do. Funny. Talented…”
“Oh tosh! You don’t look a day over sixty-five!”
More laughter. She empties the scotch into her coffee, so that it’s not really coffee anymore.
“You’d be surprised how many women I know, single and married, keep asking about you, Dad,” she continues.
“Read my lips. No fix-ups. This has got to be something spontaneous. And I won’t lower my standards out of desperation.”
“Really, Dad? You’re hoping to meet a true-blue playmate of the month, then?”
“That’s not fair, Mary…”
“You’ll never find anyone as good as Ma, you know. But you cannot be alone just because you keep measuring women in your life up to her and they all fall short.”
“Ha! The women in my life don’t all fall short. You measure up. Janette measures up…”
There is the slightest pause. In retrospect, later, I will probably consider this as the point in time where I stepped into some sort of impossible, alternate reality, because I then hear Mary say the strangest thing…
“Yeah…too bad we can’t work on your wood…”
That can’t be what I heard. It’s getting dark outside. The faint light of dusk filters through the tasteful cream drapes. Mary, sitting across from me, has a strange look on her face. I notice that her coffee/ scotch is gone.
“Or can’t we?” She asks, eyebrow raised.
It sinks in slowly. I know it’s the drink talking now, nevertheless my jaw drops to the floor. I look around desperately, trying to think of something to say, and come up empty. I cannot believe my ears. Did my daughter just actually come right out and suggest what I think she suggested?
“Huh…what?” I feign having not heard.
Mary, that impossibly strange smile still on her face, stands up. She has made a decision. In a flash of understanding, I realize what that decision is, and I don’t know what the hell I am supposed to make of it. She hooks her fingers under the waist of her tight turtleneck top.
There is a machinegun in my chest. I think I am about to have my second near-heart-attack of the day.
“Be quiet, Daddy,” she commands. The bossiest one.
She slowly lifts her sweater up and throws it off. Splendid C-cup breasts nicely contained in skimpy black Victoria’s Secret are duly revealed.
“Mary…what the blazes are you doing…”, I say shooting out of the couch as if it had suddenly transformed into hot coals.
“I can see that you like these, Dad,” she says, gently letting her fingers run over and across her chest, outlining the perfect shapes. Very perceptive. You’d have to be blind not to notice that my cock has twitched to life in my shorts. Dammit, cock! After I’ve spent all day trying to pacify you…
What the hell is happening? I scream inside my head.
Mary is beautiful. No father can ever think otherwise of his own daughter, I know, but now I see her from a detached third-party perspective and I am sure she is absolutely gorgeous. Five feet seven, 115 pounds of perfectly toned hotness…shoulder length dark brown hair that frame an insanely pretty face that looks a lot like her late mother’s, deep brown eyes, soft features, dreamy breasts, a narrow waist that flares out into incredible, curvy hips, and the hips extending into long, shapely legs.
At thirty-nine, she has been married for twenty years to a man who was her college boyfriend and has a strapping teenage son of her own, but she hasn’t let the years take away anything from her body.
“Mary, this is…this isn’t right…” I splutter. There is no conviction in my words, and Mary knows it, because my eyes are still fixed on her breasts.
“It doesn’t matter, Daddy,” she whispers, “This is what you need…this is what I want…”
With one quick step, she is in my space. She grasps my wrists and places my hands on her chest. I feel the weight of those tits in my palm. My thumbs touch her nipples through the silky bra. My cock has turned into a phallic steel sculpture.
“No…Mary…stop this…” I say but my hands aren’t ready to leave those breasts just yet. She raises one arm and locks it behind my neck. Then she’s on her toes and her lips are on mine in a kiss that blows my mind right away. My own daughter!
Her other hand is between us. Her fingers move, the drawstring of my shorts comes undone. Suddenly, I can feel the softness of her bare stomach with the solidity of my cock.
I shudder. I think the room is on a turntable. I think I have a fever. She moans into my mouth. The scotch/coffee is intoxicating on her breath.
The small part of my mind that just doesn’t get what’s going on, the part that is thinking incest …daughter …wrong …, the part that is resisting, dies.
I break our kiss, and spin Mary around and bite her neck. My hands find her tits again. The bra has a hook, front and center. I fumble at it zealously, unsuccessfully. Mary reaches up and takes care of the problem. The cups fall away, and those striking breasts swing free. I paw at them, feeling a woman’s uncovered breasts for the first time in half a dozen years.
“Oh Dad…” she mewls. Under my palms, her nipples are little round stones. She unhooks her pants, and they drop around her ankles. Black panties that match the martyred bra follow them. She pushes her hips back against me, and now my cock is snuggling in her butt-cleavage.
“Daddy…down there…touch me down there…”
I let my right hand travel slowly over her midriff and cup her groin. An artistically trimmed bush of pubic curls tickle my palm. The folds of her labia are distended, moist.
“Down here?” I ask stupidly. My middle finger is burrowing into her slot. Her hips thrust forward against it.
“Rub it… Daddy, rub my clit…” she begs.
I rub it. Slowly and firmly, like Anne taught me all those years ago. I remember exactly where to rub, with how much pressure and with what kind of motion. Like riding a bike, it comes back to me in a flash.
Mary reaches up and back and grabs my neck again, hanging on. I’m surprised at how light she seems. I have her nipple between a thumb and a forefinger, squeezing and tugging it in tempo with the ministrations of my other hand down at her crotch. I curl my finger, and it enters the wet warmth of her cunt.
Mary moans loudly. Her hips jerk, her buttocks knead my cock. I move my hips in time to hers, my mouth still working her neck.
Suddenly, she is breathing in short, sharp gasps. She grabs my wrist.
“I won’t, sweetheart…”
“I’m there, Dad… I’m there…Oh God…I’m…”
And then, with a sudden cry, she’s there. Her back arches, her body jolts in the orgasm. She goes limp and drops to her knees.
Without missing a beat, she turns. My cock is wobbling in front of her face.
“Daddy…thanks…I really needed that,” she sighs lovingly.
I ponder whether I should say ‘You’re welcome’ to my own daughter who is kneeling naked in front of me, thanking me for fingering her to climax. Before I can come to a decision on that etiquette dilemma, Mary continues,
“Now, it’s your turn to thank me.”
She reaches up to hold my erection, like she is holding a bird. Fingers of one hand tentatively curl around my shaft, as the other cups my balls.
“Oh fuck…” I whisper hoarsely.
Her lips graze my cock. Her tongue snakes out to wet my shaft with a double coat of spit. I keep asking myself if this can really be happening. It feels like heaven, but it is nothing compared to the thrill that streaks up my spine when she opens her pert mouth and takes me in.
I thank my stars I had the forethought of masturbating repeatedly in a drunken haze that morning, because if I hadn’t, I’m pretty sure I would have copiously shot off down my daughter’s throat as soon as this happens.
Mary knows what she is doing. She sucks the head in, and lets it slip out again. Her tongue tickles the tip of my cock wetly, traces a line down to the underside, returns to the tip, then in it goes again, half a centimeter deeper this time. I watch, fascinated, as slowly, in successive stages, more and more of my cock starts sliding past her eager lips. The hand on my balls continues fondling them gently. Deeper and deeper goes my cock into my girl’s mouth, until all seven and a half inches are sliding in and out if her throat, and my balls are touching her chin. I marvel at how expertly she does it. Her mother, bless her soul, had only ever taken a couple of inches.
A couple of minutes into this fantastic incestuous blowjob, I suddenly feel my cum starting to build up in my groin.
“Uhn…” I exclaim, ready to shoot.
Mary senses it too, and stops. Both her hands close around my shaft in a vice-like grip.
“Not yet, Daddy…” she says. The feeling recedes.
She spins around on her knees and plants her elbows on the carpet; her glorious heart shaped buttocks high, her sopping wet pussy and wrinkled asshole flashing at me from between the cheeks.
She reaches down between her legs with one hand and I see her fingers splay her wet labia, revealing the glowing pink flesh tunnel there.
“Take me, Daddy…fuck your little girl…”
I drop to my knees behind her. It takes me a short second to find her entrance with the tip of my cock. And then, in one swift motion, I am buried balls deep in my daughter’s burning wet cunt. We groan in symphony as it happens.
Mary lets herself run out at the knees, my cock slipping out gently from her cunt until only the glans remained lodged in her vulva, then back again, ever so slowly, all the way in. Impatient as only a man can be, I begin plunging my cock into her in right earnest.
“Slowly, Daddy! I like it slow…” she murmurs.
Slow it is.
Her hand remains between her legs, working her clit, as I, with that iron self-discipline I mentioned earlier, slow my hips down, leisurely enjoying every millimeter of friction. Mary moans in delight. I can feel the walls of her vagina spasm and clutch my cock as, over the next five minutes, she announces one, then another and then a third orgasm with a little squeal.
She turns and looks at me over her shoulder, her eyes lidded in wanton lust.
“That’s it, Daddy…fuck me…”
I grab her slim waist. This was in my dream! I realize, suddenly, as I look down to see my cock, wet from Mary’s moisture, plunging into her cave. In a passionate frenzy, begin pistoning my cock into her. Years of long distance running have ensured that I don’t lack the stamina for a good, long fuck. Mary lets out a long, loud wail as the intensity of my drive peaks. I am at the crest.
“Cumming…” I manage to croak.
“Inside me, Daddy…” she breathes.
I see stars as my orgasm hits me and I pour what seems like a whole pint of semen into my daughters cunt in accompaniment to several loud ‘Uhs’. When I’m done, I fall forward over her back, exhausted.
We pant in unison for a long while. I withdraw, and a flood of my spunk follows my wilted cock out of her cunt, splattering down onto the carpet.
“Wow, Dad,” Mary sighs joyfully, “You are really something!”
As before, I don’t know what to say. Should I thank her? Should I tell her what a great fuck she has been? I realize I don’t feel an ounce of guilt or regret. Whatever unholy karma in my life has led to this, I am actually grateful for it. Words still elude me, but Mary probably understands.
She crawls out from under me. I flop back on the couch, and watch her affectionately as she, with a subtle smile on her lips, gathers her clothes and puts them on again and finger combs her hair back into shape. Once she is presentable again, she kneels between my spread-out legs and plants a kiss on my limp cock, then another on my lips.
“We should do this more often, Daddy,” she says, winking. She leaves me sitting there, in a much better state of mind than the one she had found me in…
Chapter Two: Janette
Peter had come in this afternoon to my office, and asked to borrow my car.
“Hot date, Aunt Jan!”
“How hot?” I asked him, and he had gone all red.
“Come on, Pete,” I said dangling the keys in front of my eighteen-year old nephew’s nose, “Tell!”
“Well… it’s Sierra.”
“Sierra? Sierra the sophomore? Wow! Look at you, Pete… finally getting an older woman to go out with you… Congratulations!” I said, tossing him the keys.
“Oh come on, Aunt Jan…she’s not that much older…”
Flashback. I had fallen in love with this one the moment he was born, the cutest golden-haired baby ever. I had been at Bryn Mawr then, and had rushed down to help Mary. Mary and Anthony had both been working parents at the time, and I had moved in with them after graduation. For the next six years, I had helped raise the little tyke, until I finally managed to set up my consultancy and moved to my own apartment downtown.
During this time, little Peter had grown very close to me, and I to him. I remember how heartbreakingly he had bawled when I was moving out, though we kept telling him that I was just a twenty minute bus ride away, and we would see each other all the time.
Our bond had only strengthened as Peter grew into a handsome teen, and today, we were more like pals than the traditional nephew-aunt. Over the years, he had confessed all his crushes to me, and I don’t remember him ever being so completely smitten with a girl as he had been with the exquisite Sierra.
Girls had, until now, fallen over themselves to go out with Pete, given his irresistible good looks and winning ways. He was a brilliant student, a star athlete and an undeniable all-round nice guy.
But it was different with Sierra. This apparently incomparable African-American girl was the first to actually intimidate him. It had taken him months to gather the guts to ask her out the first time, and she had turned him down flat.
Devastated, Pete had, but of course, come to me. I had never needed to teach my nephew the value of perseverance in the pursuit of the opposite sex, so now, I did. Pete learned fast, and implemented his lesson with a vengeance. Sierra never stood a chance, in my opinion.
I leave work a couple of hours early (one of the perks of being your own boss) and take a cab back home. Peter has planned dinner and a late movie for his first date with Sierra, so I don’t expect him to drop off my wheels anytime soon. Since I am not currently dating anyone myself, I’m just looking forward to a quiet evening with some bubbly, a book, and a bath.
I am surprised to find my Camry parked in its spot when I get to my place. Apparently Peter’s date has not gone according to plan. The poor guy must be waiting for me (there is a spare key to my apartment with the car keys) moping, I think. I am soon to discover how wrong I am.
I walk into my place and toss my bag on the living room couch.
“Peter? Are you here?” I call hesitantly.
There is no reply. I venture deeper into the apartment on tiptoe, and as I cross the guest bedroom I find its door ajar just a couple of inches. The faintest moaning sound drifts to my ears from inside.
So, Peter has managed to get his prey! His date, contrary to my earlier belief, is going much better than expected, it seems. Obviously, he doesn’t expect me back for some time yet, so he has brought Sierra over for a little heavy petting. My first thought, of course, like a good aunt, is to quietly leave.
And then I am overcome with this insane desire to take just a little peek. I mean just the tiniest glance, you know… what harm could it do? The lovebirds would never know…
The room is dimly lit, but not dark, and I can see them clearly. As soon as I lay eyes on her, I can understand why Peter has had Sierra on the brain for so long.
She is the loveliest, most enchantingly beautiful girl. Now I am unabashedly bisexual, and have been attracted to my share of women. But Sierra is undoubtedly in a class by herself. I am absolutely spellbound by her beauty.
Wonderful cocoa skin. Long, wavy black hair flowing down over her back. Dark, almond-shaped eyes over regal cheekbones. Luscious maroon lips. She is wearing a simple red shirt that is tight enough to emphasize a perky bosom, with a long maroon plaid skirt that is…that is…
…Oh my god! Her skirt is hiked up around her waist as she sits on the bed, leaning back on her hands, revealing a long pair of shining black legs, and my nephew has his head buried between them! There is a lot more than ‘heavy petting’ going on in there!
The smallest involuntary squeak escapes my lips. My crotch goes hot and damp with sudden arousal. I clamp my hand to my mouth in panic, praying. There is no indication that I was heard.
On the bed, Peter pushes his hands under Sierra’s perfect butt, lifting her to get better access to her sex. She lets one hand take her weight, and places the other one on his ruffled blonde head to guide him.
“Ohh, Peter…just a bit lower…that’s right… no, no…that’s too low…”
It’s amazing how lost boys can get in three inches of real estate. I imagine myself in Peter’s place, hitting Sierra’s button with my tongue. My panties are soaked. I drop a hand down the front of my pants and grab my pussy.
Sierra moves her hips, and Peter finally gets it.
“There!” she sighs loudly, and starts grinding her pelvis into his face. It is incredibly erotic to watch this adorable young girl’s face as she is being eaten out.
Peter may have been clueless about her clit, but I can tell that he does not lack enthusiasm, because once he has found it, he seems to get his act together. For a couple of minutes, I hear him slurp and lick, wetly. Suddenly, Sierra’s hips spasm, and I can tell she has cum.
She collapses backwards on the bed. Peter’s face emerges from her crotch.
“Did you…Did I…?”
“Oh yes, Pete…you did…and I did…” Sierra whispers.
“Wow!” he grins and raises his hands like a zombie to reach for her, but she quickly leaps off the bed and away. Poor Peter. I can feel his agony! He makes to follow her up.
“Sit back down,” Sierra orders.
Oh this girl is evil, I think delightedly. Peter drops back on the bed, a little pout on his face. Sierra sits back down next to him.
“Now Peter, what if your Aunt… Janine?…”
“…Janette comes home early?”
I hold my breath as she says this. She’s beautiful and intuitive.
“What? No, no…that’s not happening…don’t worry!”
“But what if she does? I mean, can you even imagine how embarrassing it would be?”
“You really don’t have to worry, Sierra. Aunt Jan is a really busy person. She doesn’t leave work till much later. We have time, babe…”
“But still, what if? I really don’t think we should risk it…”
“Oh, come on! Sierra, she really won’t, I’m telling you… look, we can be really quick, if you want… I’ll be done before you know it and then we can split…”
Oh Peter, you fool.
Sierra cocks an eyebrow at him, and he immediately backtracks.
“No, no, no…that came out wrong…what I meant was…”
Of course he hasn’t the faintest what he meant to say.
“Tell me about her, Pete.”
“About… Aunt Jan? Well…she’s…” he stammers, “She’s really cool, and everything…”
“How cool, exactly?”
“Very cool,” Peter says, “She’s more like a friend or a big sister to me, you know…”
“Is she hot?”
“You heard me, Peter…is Janette hot?”
“Welllll… I guess.”
“You guess? Peter…”
“She’s my mom’s sister, Sierra… I never really considered…”
“Don’t lie to me, now…”
Peter hesitates, then raises his arms in resignation.
“Oh alright… she’s hot. Okay?” he says, red as a beetroot.
Why thank you, Pete! I grin.
“Oh my god, you have a crush on your hot aunt!” Sierra exclaims.
“No, come on…it’s not like that…”
Liar. I know for a fact that he has had a crush on me since he was a little boy. These things are obvious to women.
“Forget it, Pete…now get up…let’s see what you’ve got…”
Peter leaps up like an eager, horny ape. His shirt comes off. My nephew has a godlike torso. I lick my lips. The next second, he yanks down his trousers and boxers together, and I see his cock leap from his groin, rigid as a steel bar, his balls tight in anticipation below it. He flounders comically as he kicks off the clothes.
I nearly climax that instant, as his forbidden nakedness burns itself into my mind. I’m not sure I could have kept quiet if had. I stop playing with myself.
The lovely Sierra has also risen from the bed and strips (with a lot more poise), a wicked smile on her lips as she watches his antics. She unbuttons her top slowly, and lets it hang open at the front. There is no bra underneath. Her impeccable mocha breasts are firm and round, topped with nipples like pointy drops of dark chocolate. Her skirt drops. I see a glorious black thatch of hair.
A goggle-eyed Pete works his hard-on impatiently as his dream girl reveals herself to him with tantalizing slowness.
She puts her hands on her hips.
“Well? What do you think?” she asks.
“I think…you are… the most…”
“Peter? Am I hotter than your Aunt Janette?”
“Tell me this truthfully, Peter,” Sierra’s voice is hoarse, seductive, “If your aunt was outside that door right now, and she decided to walk in here…and join us… which one of us would you fuck first?”
I freeze as it dawns on me… She knows!
She must have heard me earlier. I realize she has known for some time now. Peter has this incredulous look on his face. He’s actually thinking about it! Does she really want me to come in?
“You can come in, Janette,” she says, reading my mind.
I take a deep breath and step into the room.
Like a cartoon character, Peter yelps and leaps three clean feet into the air as I enter, then keels back over behind the bed and whips a pillow down in front of his erect cock, a look of pure abject terror on his face.
I disregard him (for the moment) and look at Sierra. I can tell by the way she looks at me, with a barely hidden hunger behind her eyes, that she swings both ways too. She walks over to me, slipping her shirt off her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. I can’t help but ogle at her brazen nakedness.
She takes my hand and places it gently on her naked breast. Her other hand quickly sneaks up under my blouse, pushes my bra up over my breast, and cups it smoothly.
“Hello, Jan…I’m Sierra,” she says sweetly, “It’s good to meet you.”
With that, she touches her lips to mine in a long, tender kiss. My knees almost collapse. Her nipple is stiff with excitement under my palm, as is mine under hers.
I hear Peter mumble something incoherent from his inadequate hiding place. We look over to him. His face is a mask of confusion. I giggle like a little girl.
“Shut up, Peter.” Sierra tells him sternly. There is no question as to who is in charge of how this is going to play out. She turns back to me.
“You are really stunning, Jan…” she says.
“Thanks,” I say meekly, completely under her spell. We kiss again. Her lips never leave mine as she slowly gets rid of my blouse and bra. I am now beyond caring that I am being stripped right in front of my teenage nephew.
I hear Peter gulp as my breasts are bared. I look at him nervously, but Sierra gently puts a finger on my chin and turns my head back to her.
“Ignore him,” she mutters, “You have the most beautiful breasts, Jan… I wish I had breasts like yours…”
Dipping her head, she takes my left nipple into her mouth. I feel her teeth and shiver as a thrill of pleasure passes through me. Sierra’s hands are busy at my waist, undoing my skirt. It falls, and I feel her fingers slide down the front of my panties and dip into my wet gash. Her mouth leaves my nipple painfully erect and wanting more. She lifts her fingers, wet with my cunt-juices, and sucks them, looking me straight in the eye as she does so.
She puts her arms around my neck and kisses me again. Our breasts rub together, nipples grazing nipples. She turns me and pulls me towards the bed. Breaking our embrace, she falls back on the mattress.
“You know, Jan, Peter is pretty ignorant about what a woman wants…down here…” she says, gently massaging her crotch, “Something tells me that you, on the other hand, know exactly what to do…”
Sierra’s legs part, and she reaches into her dark pubic forest to part her pussy lips, showing me her pink center. Without any further prompting, I drop to my knees. She’s right… I know exactly what to do.
I nibble on the smooth dark skin of her inner thighs, and let my hand caress her belly just above her mound. I move closer to her groin with my mouth, millimeter by millimeter. I can see her getting wetter, tiny moans of anticipation issuing from her lips. I plant soft kisses on her vulva. I dip my tongue into her sweet cunt.
Two minutes of this and she is squirming and bucking her pelvis into my face, ready as she will ever be. I bite down on her clit. The sudden orgasm hits her like a sledgehammer. She screams with pleasure as she cums, and goes limp.
I climb over her supine form and shower kisses on her face, lips and breasts as she catches her breath.
We turn to look at Peter. He is frozen in place, jaw hanging in a look of unfathomable disbelief.
“See, Peter…” Sierra meows, “That’s how you pleasure a girl…”, then, turning back to me, “Are you ready, Jan?”
“Why, reimbursement, of course…”
She laughs a lovely, joyous laugh. With a swift twist of her torso, she puts herself on top, then slides slowly down my body. Helplessly, I accommodate her between my knees.
Tenderly, she licks my pussy, her tongue darting all over my dripping gash. I close my eyes, enjoying her mouth teasing my swollen clit. She is an unquestionable expert at eating pussy too, I realize soon, as she gets me to the edge, then stops. Once, twice, thrice…until I am sobbing with anticipation. My eyes are screwed shut, my cunt is in flames.
Once again, a wet tongue carries me to the peak. Just as I am about to climax, I feel teeth on my nipple. My eyes snap open. It is Sierra. So, the tongue in my pussy must be…
…Peter, my teenage nephew…
I recoil instinctively, but Sierra pins me down, hard. Half a second later, it is too late. Words cannot describe the orgasm that explodes in my core as I look down and lock eyes with my sweet Peter while his tongue stabs my clit.
My orgasm subsides slowly, leaving me trembling uncontrollably in its wake. A dense silence descends upon us. Sierra breaks it.
“Get up, Pete,” she says, “Show us that lovely cock, now.”
Peter jumps to his feet. Half a cubit of man-meat is presented to us, its head purple with longing, rising from a base of sparse golden fuzz at his groin and over his smooth, tight scrotum. Sierra slides over and leans forward to take him into her mouth.
“Eep!” he exclaims, pulling his hips back in mad panic. The boy has been watching two naked women getting jiggy with each other for the past twenty minutes, one of them his aunt. He has been tonguing their pussies. It’s really no wonder that the moment he feels Sierra’s hot breath on his cock, he starts cumming uncontrollably.
I gasp in awe. Sierra bursts into musical laughter as a copious shot of cum leaps from Peter’s cock-head and splashes across her mouth and chin.
“Oh no! No…no…no…nooo…” Peter laments, as his cock wildly ripples again and again to spray Sierra’s face and neck. By the time he is done, he is wilted and dripping a single long string of cum, and Sierra is a complete, beautiful mess.
“Dear God, I am so sorry, Sierra… I just couldn’t…”
“Shut up, Peter!” Sierra says, mock exasperated. She licks her lips and tastes him.
“Salty!” she says, looking at me, “Seems to be a family flavor!”
I feel the blood rise to my cheeks.
“Well, Janette,” Sierra continues, laughing out again, “He’s no use to anyone now, is he?
“Goddammit, you fucking stupid…” Peter grumbles as he grasps his limp cock and shakes it vigorously, as if to discipline it. It is cute as fuck.
Peter looks at me, shrugs and grins in the most self-deprecating manner. That does it. I feel my love for my gorgeous nephew overwhelm me. I laugh, and all feel my inhibitions vanish in that instant. I know now that before this evening is over, I will have his cock in me.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie…” I say fondly, “I’m sure we can do something about it.”
Sierra is sitting back against the pillows, dabbing away at her face with a corner of the bedsheet. She looks at me approvingly, noting the change.
I get up from the bed and go to him. I kiss him long and slow, pressing my breasts into his pecs. I feel his taut, muscled abdomen with my hand, then reach lower. My fingers curl around his cock and he quivers deliciously. I feel his hands move to my waist, then circle around boldly and cup my buttocks.
I start fondling his shaft gradually. Even when limp, I am duly fascinated by its weight and girth in my palm.
“My, my… when did you grow up, Pete?” I murmur appreciatively.
“Heh,” is all he can manage for now.
I drop to my knees in front of him. A single pearl of cum is shining at the tip of his cock, I lick it off. Peter sighs in pleasure. Without further ado, I pop him into my mouth.
“Oh Aunt Jan…That is so good!”
I sense some movement next to me. The exquisite Sierra joins us at the foot of the bed, face clean.
“Do share, Jan…” she says, eyes sparkling. I pass him to her a bit reluctantly.
I watch Peter’s cock slide past her lips as her hand rises to cup his balls. I bend down to lick them.
“Oh fuck I’m in heaven!” Peter cries out.
She sucks and licks him for a minute or two, then passes him back to me. This time when his cock enters my mouth, I can feel it slowly rejuvenating. This won’t take long at all, I think happily.
We pass Peter’s cock back and forth between us, letting him move his hips in horny urgency to push his cock as far down our throats as it will go. Sure enough, before long, he is stiff as a sword again, glistening wet with our saliva.
He beams at us proudly, kegelling to make his cock jump up and down in front of our faces. All three of us laugh. Sierra and I stand up and give him a sexy hug.
“Well, Pete…moment of truth…” Sierra says.
“You know… who will you fuck first?”
Confusion clouds his face. It is adorable.
“I dunno,” he scratches his head, “Maybe…”
“Hint…there is no wrong answer…” she says with a wicked smile.
“Enough, Sierra…” I say, “Don’t torture the poor kid anymore. You were here first.”
Before she can say anything, I turn her around by the shoulders and push her down on the edge of the bed, so that she is on all fours, ass in the air. I grasp Peter’s…well… peter, and pull him into position behind her. I feel her pussy. It is soggy with eagerness. I position his cock-head at her entrance. Peter doesn’t hesitate, inserting his cock slowly into her.
Jenny Jenner, known to her friends as JJ, was just 26 when her life changed forever. Her life up until then had been full of disappointments in most things and constant heartache when it came to her love life. Throughout her teens and her time at University, each successive boyfriend had either dumped her, cheated on her or was just been plain bad as with her last boyfriend. Even though she’s intelligent and certainly not stupid, perhaps she was basically naïve, trusting and easily led. This is certainly still the case here as she allowed her emotions to rule over common sense.
She was the worst judge of character when it came to her men as that last boyfriend proved having offered her the earth but everything he obtained came illegally which subsequently caused him to be locked up in prison for five years for theft leaving JJ alone again to pick up the pieces and sort out the mess he’d left behind.
The flat they had shared was rented and she found out after his arrest that the rent hadn’t been paid for three months even though JJ had been paying her way, sharing all the running cost of the flat (or so she thought). The outcome of this disaster was JJ had ended up back at her parent’s house again which is not what a modern independent girl really wants as much as she loves her mum and dad. That was until just a few weeks ago when she found another little apartment in Nottingham close to her work as a supervisor in a high street travel company. This time she wasn’t intending sharing with anyone.
JJ is really pretty and petite just 5ft 2″ tall and only 51 kg in weight and she was born and bred in Nottingham of white English parents. She has light brown short hair, brown eyes and she keeps herself very trim and fit by going to her local gym daily and sticking closely to a low fat diet. A couple of her boyfriends and work colleagues keep telling her she looks a lot like Natalie Portman which JJ, although flattered, does not really believe.
It was at the gym that she first met Dolly (real name Delores) who works as a supervisor in a local adult night club. JJ and Dolly seemed to hit it off straight away and soon started meeting at other times and places as well. Dolly is a few years older (32) than JJ and is the daughter of black African parents, 55kg in weight 5ft 5″ tall.
Dolly always makes JJ feel comfortable in her company and JJ now shares a lot of her intimate thoughts and feelings with Dolly, almost like sisters. Dolly was very supportive of JJ during her recent disaster with her boyfriend and she helped her forget by introducing her to life away from him and introduced her some of the things she has enjoyed in her own fruity life at the club.
The club has quite a reputation for naughty goings-on but, so far, they had always any avoided police attention, probably because many of its drinking customers are local policemen and women whose station is nearby and the club is one of their favourite watering holes.
As well as an all-night drinking establishment the club offers pole dancing, lap dancing and naked strip shows but they are known for offering more personal treatment for their customers at the right price. Dolly had been at the club since it opened about 7 years ago and she had “entertained” customers both on stage and in the private rooms although JJ did not find this out until much later. Dolly and another black girl called Cheryl also provide extra girl-on-girl services which they enjoy doing as young women are less inhibited in Nottingham about lesbianism nowadays.
The owners wanted the club to go the final mile and provide live sex shows on stage with no holds barred but they needed believable people and that was the role given to Dolly to recruit suitable girls without them actually knowing what was required. So it was not just a chance meeting when Dolly and JJ got together although JJ was totally unaware of what Dolly and the club were planning for her.
As we now know Dolly was grooming JJ to perform at the club so the thing for her to do was make sure that JJ was introduced to the public sex acts the club wanted to emulate and the best place for that was on-line porn sites. JJ got totally engrossed in some of these sites which she watched with Dolly and when JJ got really horny she would watch the sites again after Dolly had left and masturbating herself to shattering orgasms. JJ was totally turned on by naked girls being tied up and brought to orgasms by groups of men and women and especially some of the sites where couples had sex in front of an audience. She loved the uncensored Japanese sites where this activity is done so well and the pretty Japanese girls really seem to enjoy their sex.
Confiding in Dolly about how these videos affected her Dolly knew that her plans for JJ were working out very well indeed. Dolly was determined to get JJ to such a level of sexual arousal with these videos that she would be “gagging for it” as they say colloquially in Nottingham. She also introduced JJ to the “Hungry Duck Club in Moscow” videos albeit they are rather poor quality filmed on mobile phones. They still showed everything as all the girls were stripped naked by four muscular men and there was even a simulated fucking of a naked blonde girl on stage by one of the naked black men. Well JJ assumed it was simulated.
“We do that type of thing at the club where girls are “invited” onto the stage and the black men strip them naked and display them to the crowd,” JJ was squirming in her seat as Dolly went on to explain, “Some special nights we allow things to go a bit too far and the girls get more than just being stripped naked, they end up with the black men naked as well and the girls are caressed intimately all over their bodies by the men. The naked girls all react differently depending on the circumstances but we’ve had no real complaints from the girls who seem to love it a lot. We’ve had a few complaints from their menfolk though.” JJ listened with her mouth open in amazement and the visualisations her brain was formulating and the images generated by the videos, left her breathless. Dolly continued, “We seem to be getting more and more girls at the club as the word gets around and we’ve even had a crazy hen night where all 12 girls from the group were naked on the stage at the same time.”
Dolly went in for the kill, “It’s Saturday and we have a private party on tonight at the club, why don’t you come along later and see for yourself? As it’s a private party it’ll be by invite only so you never know you might enjoy it.” JJ’s red face and heaving chest said it all.
“Oh! OK” stammered JJ, but inside her tummy was in turmoil and her brain imagining all sorts.
Dolly now knew her plan was coming together beautifully.
“I’ll meet you at the door around midnight so tart yourself up and wear as little as possible and showing lots of flesh; that way the black men will notice you and you might get lucky.” Dolly laughed but she knew that this lovely little girl was going to get more than lucky and she (Dolly) would get a big fat bonus from the club owners.
JJ was still in a real state (just as Dolly wanted) as she showered letting the warm jets of water wash over her pussy making her jerk a little. JJ had noticed watching the porn sites that all the girls were shaved and it looked good so if she was going to be stripped tonight she wanted to look as good, so she’d been to the gym earlier where they offer an intimate waxing service and she had a total Brazilian waxing on and around her pussy which actually made her very aroused but the girl assistant said she understood as it happens quite a lot.
Now dressed in a pink satin bra and matching thong type panties with a small white lacy top that left her midriff exposed and a short loose flowery mini skirt which showed a lot of her shapely thighs so with her little handbag JJ set off just down the road at about 11.45pm. When she arrived at the club and big sign saying “Midnight Private Party – Tickets only” greeted her as she reached the door to the main auditorium. One of two very large Afro-Caribbean doormen asked for her ticket and JJ told him that she was the guest of Dolly.
“Ah you must be JJ, they’re expecting you,” as he opened the door to let her through. She spotted Dolly talking to two well-dressed men and a black girl near the top of the main aisle. On seeing JJ Dolly seemed to say “She’s here now,” as she turned to JJ. “Ah sweetheart, this is my colleague Cheryl, we’re so pleased you could make it, come on,” beckoning her to join her. “You look absolutely perfect babe.”
As she walked with Dolly, JJ took in her surroundings. The auditorium was like a small Roman Arena with seats sloping down from the back on three sides to a small stage behind a long curved curtain around the front hiding it from the audience. The actual stage was only about 2ft high with a gap of about 6ft to the front row seats which were at the same height as the stage with the 6ft well in front guarded by railings.
There were lighting rigs over the stage and cameras set at about at dozen positions around and above the stage. There were large flat screen TV monitors all around the stage facing the audience and also above the audience further back so everyone could see what was going on. The arena was nearly full, mostly of men of all ages but quite a lot of young women as JJ was shown to her seat right in the middle in front of the centre of the stage.
Dolly gave JJ a quick peck on the cheek and said “I’ll see more of you later babe – Good luck,” she winked as she walked off through a door at the rear of the stage. The stage was now clear and the lights in the main auditorium were dimmed and the stage lights went out.
As the loud music struck up as the curtains opened and four muscular black men came out from the curtains at the back of the stage wearing nothing more than small thongs which just covered their obvious manhood which bounced around as they twisted and gyrated through a vigorous acrobatic routine. The four lads JJ now knows as Errol, James, Michael and Lenny were very experienced performers but they knew that tonight was going to be something special. JJ could hardly take her eyes of this erotic display and she realised from the movement under their thongs that all four of the men were very well endowed indeed and she also realised that all this manhood will be on show later if Dolly was right.
After just a couple of minutes of the routine the music level dropped and Cheryl, dressed in a little white bikini, came out to the front with a microphone and welcomed everyone to the show. “We have a very special show tonight so without further delay we want a lady volunteer to join us on stage.” JJ was a bit taken aback and before she could raise her hand three other ladies sitting on the front row leapt up and screamed to be chosen.
The four men leapt from the stage and selected a pretty blonde woman from the trio and carried her to the stage. She was very pretty and JJ didn’t think her boyfriend or husband was very happy as he kept shaking his head in either anger or disbelief or both. With the dancer’s hands moving all over her body they deftly removed her dress, shoes, bra and panties in as many seconds as it takes to write this. She really had a terrific figure and her shaved pussy was very prominent. The naked blonde was lifted high by the black men and displayed to the appreciative audience. As she was held high above the stage two of the black men opened the girl’s legs wide apart and displayed her shaven pussy to the crowd as flashes from the audience’s cameras added to the tense atmosphere.
Shaking all over with her growing arousal at the spectacle in front of her, JJ noticed that the audience was cheering and also she noticed that the TV screens were zooming in on the girls pussy and the rest of her naked body so everyone in the room could see her most private areas.
As the girl was slowly lowered to the floor James gave the girl’s pussy a kiss before they released her through the curtains at the rear of the stage. It was all over and the crowd were baying for more.
Even before Cheryl could ask for another volunteer the men were in front again selecting a Chinese looking woman who appeared to be somewhat older than most of the women. She was very tiny, even smaller than JJ and she still had a terrific figure. She was stripped in no time and displayed in the same way and JJ noticed that as the black men opened her up to display her pussy Lenny actually put two fingers inside her just for a second then licked his fingers as he removed them, before they lowered her and ushered her through the curtains. It was all so precise and quick that if it hadn’t been captured on the TVs it would be easy to miss it. Two more women were selected and stripped naked and their pussies shown to the audience. One had her pussy licked for a second or two by Errol before being released and the other had a dildo pushed inside her vagina by Michael before being released and she had to leave the stage with this still inside her.
JJ was totally transfixed by the action and was certainly turned on watching the spectacle she had been fantasising about, playing out in front of her. Before she realised what was happening the four men had come over to her and they lifted her up and carried her above their heads onto the stage. Her time had come and she was visible shaking and blushing hard.
What happened next really stunned JJ as Cheryl went onto the microphone and boldly announced “Hi everyone! Now we’ve reached the moment we’ve all been waiting for, please give a big hand to our special guest JJ who is joining us for the first time tonight and now we are in for some really ground-breaking adult entertainment for all of you to enjoy. Please welcome our star for tonight — JJ.” Michael and Errol lifted JJ’s arms and helped her wave to the crowd.
As the crowd cheered and clapped JJ was really puzzled as none of the other girls had been introduced or named but she had no time to dwell on this as the four black men started removing JJ’s little top exposing her bra. In no time this was removed and her little skirt removed leaving her topless in just her panties and shoes. Her shoes were removed next before her panties were slowly pulled down and removed.
She was now totally naked like all the other girls and lifted up and displayed to the crowd with her legs really wide apart. JJ could feel the draft of the air conditioning on her already wet open pussy as she was so sexually aroused her face and neck were red with excitement and the cameras picked that up.
JJ’s mind was racing as she took in the full magnitude of what was happening to her, knowing that the room full of strangers were now able to view her naked body and especially her open pussy on their monitors around the arena.
She was being held up by her shoulders and bottom with her unsupported head sagging down then she was lowered firstly to head height she suddenly felt someone else between her thighs. She could just see herself on one of the monitors near the back of the stage and was amazed to see her friend Dolly, now dressed in a tiny white bikini just like Cheryl, standing between JJ’s spread thighs with her head close to JJ’s pussy. Dolly opened her up until all of her pussy was exposed for the audience, then she started licking and rapidly rubbing JJs exposed clitoris which made her jerk with the wonderful sensation.
The four black men held JJ a little lower so Dolly could thrust three fingers as deep as possible into JJ’s pussy and started finger-fucking her as fast as she could. JJ had never expected a woman to be involved in the performance and having Dolly licking and fingering her pussy and in front of so many people she knew Dolly was making her cum — and my god she really wanted to cum. The realisation that she was reaching an orgasm brought on by another girl in full view of nearly 200 people nearly made her blow her mind. JJs head was shaking from side to side and her orgasmic face transmitted to the audience on the TVs.
Just a she was reaching her orgasm, although JJ couldn’t see it as her eyes were tight shut with her orgasm growing in intensity, the camera technicians had focussed on her pussy and face with a split screen on the TVs and everyone around the arena could hear her moaning as she reached a huge climax.
JJ had reached the point of no return and she screamed as she came hard with huge jerks as her body went onto spasm and, for the first time in her life, she squirted a little orgasmic fluid all over Dolly and all this was captured on TV in front of all those people. They were on their feet screaming and cheering as JJ was cumming for them in a most spectacular way. None them had ever seen anything like this in public before and they loved it.
The four black men now lowered a shaking JJ onto her unsteady feet and they started to pour oil all over her, massaging it in to every part of her naked body including her pussy. This done they carefully picked JJ up again and laid her out on a vinyl padded board which had straps fastened to each corner. JJ’s arms and ankles were strapped in and her naked body stretched out so tightly in and X shape she could not move at all.
Three large magic-wand cordless vibrators were passed onto the stage and given to Errol, James and Lenny while Michael was given a little tray covered in a blue silk cloth. JJ was now going to experience the full power of these beautiful tools as she lay there prone and unable to move other than to squirm a little in her restraints.
JJ now had a microphone headset placed on her head so everyone could hear her voice as the treatment took effect on her naked body. Her nipples were the first to be massaged by Errol and James with the magic wands on full power and her areolas started to swell into little breasts with the stimulation of the vibrations. Lenny now started on JJ’s clitoris with one of the magic wands and very soon it was obvious that JJ was going to cum again, now Michael uncovered what was on his tray and showed a large black latex dildo to the crowd. He liberally covered it with the oil before slowly pushing it deep into JJ’s dripping pussy. JJ was screaming at the intrusion onto her pussy as Michael pushed the dildo in and out and with the powerful vibrations of the magic wands she was in absolute orgasmic heaven as her body was now totally consumed with the full power of these wonderful orgasmic sensations.
Amazingly her second orgasm exploded even more powerfully than her first and her screams of pure ecstasy echoed around the auditorium. The crowd were on their feet cheering and egging on the black lads to give JJ even more. Multiple orgasms are not all that common in reality but it was plain to everyone that this little girl was going to prove that she could just keep cumming. Her slight body was jerking hard in her restraints as the power of her orgasms overwhelmed her senses again and she squirted for a second time spraying out onto the vibrator and covering Lenny and Michael with her cum juice.
JJ’s body was vibed with the magic wands and dildo fucked for nearly 10 minutes until she had little left to cum and the vibrators and dildo were taken away. One of the magic wands was handed to Cheryl who had another purpose for it.
The four black men were obviously aroused themselves by all the wonderful sexual activity that they were involved in and the prominent bulges in their little pants were clear for all to see.
Dolly and Cheryl both joined the lads on the stage and they quickly removed the lads little pants showing their large black cocks to the crowd. Dolly and Cheryl were now stripped by the four lads removing their tiny white bikinis leaving seven totally naked bodies on the stage – four black men with growing erections, two naked black girls and one tied up naked little white girl who was still jerking from her orgasmic exertions.
Everybody has fantasies, even those, like my wife, who claim they don’t. I had a recurring fantasy. Many married men fantasize about other women; I fantasize about Irene, my own wife. One day, we were making love. Irene was lying in the bed, on her back, and I was between her legs, with my cock inside of her. Irene’s facial expression betrayed intense pleasure. I love the sight of my wife enjoying sex. I don’t know from where it came but, in the heat of the moment, I imagined a second man entering our scene and placing a big cock inside Irene’s mouth. That mental image was so strong and arousing that I instantly felt on the verge of an orgasm. That might not have been the first time I imagined Irene touching another man, but that moment remains fresh in my memory to the present day.
In the beginning, it was always about a second cock in Irene’s mouth whenever I was inside of her. Then, it evolved. I began fantasizing about Irene being intimate and wild with other guys, while I watched or behind my back. In my fantasy, the man was always secondary to his cock. I never imagined her with a friend of mine, a neighbor or any other real person. The man was always a shadow, an inconspicuous figure with no importance whatsoever. Only his cock, always big and impressive, had a part along with my beautiful Irene. This peculiarity would also evolve…
I remember being in my gym’s locker room. I was sitting on a bench, leaning forward, looking at the floor, taking a couple of minutes of rest, after my exercise and before the shower. Suddenly, a great black shape showed up in the periphery of my vision and I instinctively looked up to see what it was. There was a black man coming out from one of the shower’s stalls completely naked. He had a towel but, instead of covering his body, he was carrying it in his hand. His cockiness and exhibitionism seemed to have its origin between his legs, where hung the biggest flaccid cock I had ever seen in a locker-room. The man seemed to be paying no heed to the rest of the guys present in the room, but his nakedness and proud posture made each of us aware that he was bragging about the greatness of his cock. Nothing in this account would matter and all would have been quickly forgotten, if I hadn’t seen my wife talking to that same man later.
When I left the shower stall, the exhibitionist was no longer present. I dried myself, put on my clothes and left. Irene was somewhere in the gym waiting for me, after her aerobics class. I headed for the lobby and that’s where I spotted them talking. Irene seemed to know him, although I had no idea who he might be. I was walking towards them and, when I was a few feet away from Irene, she looked at me. That’s when the stranger used one of the older tricks in the world. The moment my wife diverted her gaze from him, he took the opportunity to check her out, unaware that her husband was approaching.
“My husband is here,” I heard Irene saying when she looked back at him. Then she added with a friendly smile, “See you tomorrow.”
“Who was that?” I asked when the stranger left.
“He is a security guard in our branch office, Mr. Allen. Can you believe the coincidence?” Irene answered.
That guy and that moment naturally slipped my mind, until later in bed. I was trying to fall asleep and my mind was basically unfocused on a multitude of unrelated thoughts when one absurd idea emerged from nowhere: what if Irene was having an affair with Dwayne? It wasn’t a troublesome thought and there wasn’t a reason for any suspicion. In fact, a few moments later, I was fantasizing about my Irene being fucked by Dwayne’s huge cock, at her work, during her working hours. That day’s events merged with my fantasy and all I could think of was how close my wife had been to that hung black man.
Aroused by my own thoughts, I wanted to wake up my wife and make love with her. I wanted to tell her about Dwayne’s prying gaze and shock her with the size of his cock. However, I restrained myself because I knew that it would be useless. My words wouldn’t arouse her and I would end up frustrated as had happened many times before.
Irene knew about my fantasy. When I told it to her for the first time, the idea unsettled her. My wife couldn’t understand how I could feel aroused by the scenario of her having sex with other men. I tried to explain to her that I wasn’t depreciating her, quite the opposite actually. My fantasy was about experiencing new sensations, new emotions, free from any shyness or moral constraints. For once, I desired to see her lost in the search for pleasure, with no care for morals, unstoppable, not for love but for pure lust. With time, my wife became accustomed to the idea but never fully understood it. Considering her conservative approach regarding sex, what else could I expect?
I never hoped that she would easily jump on board and say, “Let’s do it!” My goal was much humbler. I was hoping that, by confessing my darkest fantasy, she could also feel free to share some of her secrets or, at least, desire to experiment more with me. Occasionally, during our intimate moments, I tried to invoke the presence of another man and get some encouraging reaction from her. Irene tolerated this behavior only to humor me but never took active part in it. She claimed that she already had all that she wanted and had no need for fantasies or new experiences. I resigned myself to this idea. Still, deep inside, I always kept a glimmer of hope that, one day, things would change somehow.
Maybe, it was this hope that forced me to confide in her one night. We were lying in the bed, when I asked, “Have you ever fantasized about another man?”
“I already told you before, the answer is no,” Irene calmly said without taking her eyes from the book she was reading.
My wife was right, she had already answered this question before, more than once, and the response had always been the same. However, I had to start from somewhere and this had been the best I had come up with at the moment.
“What do you think of Allen?” I continued.
“Who?” she said still not paying attention to me.
“The guy from the gym, in the other day.”
“Oh, you mean Dwayne,” she said.
Irene was already acknowledging him on a first name basis. This encouraged me to ask again, “What do you think of him?”
“He is nice,” she casually said.
“Have you ever thought about having sex with him?” I dared to ask.
This time, my wife couldn’t pretend to be distracted. She had to know where this conversation was leading, but, I guess, she wasn’t expecting my blunt question.
Irene looked at me, clearly surprised, and said, “But he is black…”
“Is that a problem?” I inquired.
“No, but… I mean… He is good looking and there is nothing wrong with the color of his skin but… He is black…” she awkwardly replied.
Irene didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to seem prejudiced but she also didn’t want to encourage my ideas. Her state of confusion created the perfect moment for me to press further, “So you think he is attractive…”
“Yes…” Irene honestly said, but then she tried to lighten her answer, “Of course, he is good looking. Anyone can see that. But that doesn’t mean I want to sleep with him.”
“If we weren’t together… If you were single and free of commitments… Would you consider dating him?”
Irene remained quiet for a few seconds. She was seriously weighing this possibility but, in the end, she chose not to answer at all.
“That’s a silly question,” she said and at the same time she shook her head as if she were trying to suppress from her mind any undesirable thought. “Besides, there must be lots of girls interested in him, much younger and prettier than me.”
“Does that mean…”
My wife quickly interrupted me, “Let’s have an end to this nonsense. We both have to work tomorrow.”
In a continuous act, not open to discussion, Irene closed her book, placed it on the nightstand, and switched off her light. My provocations seemed to be annoying her more than usual.
Irene was already accustomed to my sporadic incursions, when I press her with naughty comments or intrusive questions of a sexual nature, so her answers were most often short, dull and patronizing, but this time, something had been different. Irene was more upset than usual, as if I had just touched a weak spot.
I couldn’t let our conversation end like this. So I leaned over her and whispered in her ear, “Can I ask one last question?”
Irene rolled over in bed to face me and replied with a condescending tone, “Go ahead.”
“Are you attracted to Dwayne?” I promptly asked, staring at her eyes and using his first name on purpose to invoke any proximity that may exist between the two. I waited for an answer but none came. Instead, Irene’s face reddened. I smiled at her and said, “You’re blushing.”
“Oh, shut up!” my wife complained as she pushed me away and turned her back to me. However, she still had one last thing to say. With a vicious tone of voice, Irene answered an earlier question, “Yes, I would gladly date Dwayne…”
The words came out of her mouth as if she was trying to punish me for uncovering a secret she wanted hidden. But the effect was quite the opposite: I felt rewarded for my persistence.
Irene was attracted to another man. It was probably a minor and unimportant infatuation that would go away as quickly as it manifested. Still, this was a big thing for me. For the first time, I knew for sure that Irene wasn’t immune to other men’s charms and this had to mean she harbored secret desires, temptations, and all sort of taboo feelings that she would never admit to me, the man she loves and is married to, maybe not even to herself.
I was feeling as excited as a kid with a new toy. Her infatuation towards Dwayne might be minor and silly, but I was ready to use it for my own purposes.
Strangely, after a night of planning and fantasizing, I woke up with a bitterly jealous feeling. The idea that my wife could have a hidden side was very exciting… but also quite frightening. This recent discovery about Irene forced me to question my fantasy. The idea of my wife having sex with another man was powerful and arousing in my mind, but what would I do if I had the chance to fulfill it in real time? I couldn’t honestly answer this question, but I also knew that my indecision wasn’t enough to forget my fantasy.
Later at night, the anxiety forced me to go to bed earlier than usual, in hope that Irene would follow me right away. She met me a few minutes later with her book in hand. The moment she settled next to me, my hand probed inside her pajama and touched one of her boobs. My wife accepted my caress but didn’t react and resumed her reading.
“Can you read while I touch your breast?” I teased.
“Yes,” she shortly replied.
I removed my hand as I studied her face, trying to find any evidence of disappointment. Irene didn’t flinch. Then, I slid my hand downwards, under her pajama pants. The moment it touched her labia, I asked again, “Can you still read?”
“Yes,” she casually answered once again. But, this time, her legs slightly opened and allowed my fingers better access.
I was lucky. Despite her distracted behavior, Irene seemed to be in the right mood. A few seconds later, my cock was buried in her.
“Gently,” she replied to my impatience.
All I wanted was to be inside of her, before I started to ask the questions, “Tell me, why do you feel so attracted by Dwayne?”
“Oh no… No… not that subject again… Don’t ruin this…” my wife protested.
“I already know you’re attracted to him, so don’t deny it.” I saw the reluctance in her face, but I knew I could always appeal to her condescending side, “Humor me, please.”
There was a moment of silence. I could see the struggle in Irene. Then she said, “He is tall… He has broad shoulders…”
Irene wasn’t properly answering my question. Instead she was giving an unexpressive account of his physique.
“Do you like tall men?”
“No,” she said as she shook her head twice, but I didn’t understand if she was answering my question or telling me to stop my enquiry.
“Is it because he is black?” I insisted.
“I don’t know…” Just when I was starting to feel that I would not get anything from her, Irene surprised me, “Maybe a bit…”
Irene’s answer seemed to betray much more than she intended. Instead of simple answers as in the other times I had inquired, Irene was honestly reacting to my questions. Most of all, she was admitting that the color of Dwayne’s skin played a part in her attraction. I couldn’t believe that my own wife had a soft spot for black men.
“Black men have big cocks,” I suggested.
Irene smiled and scornfully replied, “Do you really believe that? It’s a myth.”
Yes, I knew that this was a myth. But in Dwayne’s case, the myth met reality.
“Have you ever fantasized about his cock?” I continued.
“Of course not,” she replied.
My hips were already moving for a while, but at the sound of her words, the rhythm increased.
I leaned over my wife and placed my mouth close to her right ear. Slowly, I whispered, “Imagine your hands touching him, feeling the muscles in his arms and chest. Imagine his big hands touching your skin, your nipples, cupping your boob and squeezing it gently. Imagine your naked body pressing against his young, virile body. Imagine his lips touching…”
I wanted Irene to continue with my descriptive tale and tell me where she wanted to be touched. However, all that she gave me was the sound of her heavy breath. I looked at her eyes; they were closed.
“Are you thinking about him?” I tried.
Irene’s eyes immediately opened in panic, as if my guess was truthful.
“No!” she replied.
“It’s okay,” I calmly said. “You can close your eyes and picture him. I don’t mind.”
It seemed like a vain attempt to fuel Irene’s lust. The result was both surprising and beautiful. After a moment of indecision, Irene shut her eyes; she was fantasizing about Dwayne.
My mouth returned to her ear and I slowly continued, “Imagine his strong hands raising and opening your legs. His cock is hard. He has wanted to take you since the moment he first met you. Imagine the first touch of his cock. Imagine it pressing inwards. Imagine his weight on top of you. He is inside of you…”
Suddenly, Irene’s arms enveloped me and her hands pressed my body against hers. In her fantasy, I didn’t know if she was holding me or Allen. A couple seconds later a powerful orgasm exploded, much for my excitement.
All this time I had been taking the wrong approach. The idea of fucking another man might not mean a thing to Irene, but the idea of fucking Dwayne specifically… was a different story.
Aroused by Irene’s reaction to my words, I increased the movements of my hips so that I could cum too. However, Irene pushed me away and viciously said, “I’m done with you tonight. You can finish by your own means.”
Once again, this was her way of punishing me. My wife was angry with me, probably feeling guilty too. Still, my teasing had been worth it. Despite the abrupt end of our night, this felt like the most exciting thing we had ever done.
I kept invoking Dwayne in most of our intimate moments for many more nights… and mornings too. With time, Irene became accustomed to it. Her reaction to my words became less evident; her discomfort and anger afterwards my fantasizing also faded. My wife was trying to go back to her old self, where my provocations could be easily dismissed. However, she never dispirited me. No matter how much she tried, I could still see the effects of my words in her: her pussy was taking less time to become wet and her arousal during penetration was much greater; also, her sexual appetite increased and her need to cum every time we had sex became more regular than before.
Then, one night, her conservative shell cracked and she openly questioned me, “Doesn’t it bother you that I may be thinking about another man while we make love?”
“No. The naughtiness of it turns me on,” I replied. I didn’t need to ask to know the truth, but I did it anyway, “Does it turn you on to fantasize about him?”
Immediately, Irene’s expression changed and I knew I wouldn’t get an honest answer from her, “No. Don’t you get jealous?”
“Come on. If you want me to answer your questions, you need to answer mine too.”
I guess, this time, Irene really wanted to have this conversation and only needed some incentive from my part to proceed. So she said, “Yes, but imagining another man when I’m with you… it doesn’t feel right.”
“You know why.”
“As long as both of us enjoy it, why shouldn’t we?”
Irene didn’t answer back. She seemed to be meditating about my words.
“Do you fantasize about me and Dwayne? I mean Allen… Dwayne…” she hesitated. I realized how hard this conversation was for her. Even something so insignificant, like addressing him by first name, something that she had done before under other circumstances, seemed a big deal to my wife now.
Slowly, the questions were coming out of her mouth as never before, “Would you like me to have sex with him? For real, I mean… I’m not saying that I would… or that I wish it… But if I wanted to, would you like it to really happen?”
The simple fact that Irene was asking me that question was already a big step. However, just as before when I asked that question of myself, I didn’t know the answer. I knew for a fact how much the idea turned me on, but I didn’t know if I really wanted to make it real.
Still, after all the progress I had been making at opening Irene’s mind, I didn’t want to sound indecisive, so I assertively said, “Yes, I would love it.”
“What’s the big deal? Making love with you is more than enough for me.”
“I don’t want you to make love. I want you to have raw sex, no love involved, only pleasure and lust,” I replied. “That’s why it can’t be with me.”
My answer seemed to scare Irene… Or maybe it impressed her. I didn’t know for sure how to read her reaction.
For a moment, I thought that the conversation was over… but it wasn’t. Irene seemed to have chosen that moment to release years and years of questions, “Let’s just say that I would accept to do it… I’m not saying I will… because I don’t want to, okay? But if I said yes, then what would happen? I’m curious. What would you do to convince Dwayne?”
I was surprised by her curiosity, but the answer was simple, “I wouldn’t have to do anything. It would be all up to you.”
“You would have to seduce him.”
“Me?” Irene said with a big mocking smile on her face.
“That’s ridiculous. I wouldn’t know what to do. Besides, why would he want anything to do with me, when he can have someone much younger and prettier?” said my wife with skepticism.
Irene had no idea of her sexual potential. With the right confidence and attitude, nothing could stop her. I wished she could see it for herself.
“Give him the right signs… and see for yourself.”
“The right signs?” she repeated incredulous.
“Stop attending your aerobics class for a while and spend some time working out with him,” I boldly said.
“Oh shut up!” my wife roughly replied.
All of a sudden Irene’s curiosity turned into anger. Despite how my words may have sounded, I wasn’t really asking her to do it; I just wanted to explain her how it could be done. Still, my wife no longer wanted to talk about this subject, leaving me no choice but to respect her wish.
Irene wasn’t outraged by my hypothetical suggestion; she was outraged because part of her felt attracted by the idea. I didn’t know this for sure, of course. But the more she exposed her dark side, the more I began understanding how her mind worked. Anyway, as unbelievable as this may have seemed before, a few days later, Irene accepted my suggestion and decided to skip her aerobics class.
“Nothing wrong will happen,” I assured her on the morning of her decision. “It will be only two acquaintances working out side by side, along with a bunch of other people.”
Irene only agreed to be closer to Dwayne after some persistent convincing from my part but, beneath her reluctance, I sensed the wish to be persuaded, so I provided the excuse my wife’s conscience needed: she would be only doing it for me, to please me and to enhance our intimate moments.
Irene was supposed to ‘accidentally’ meet Dwayne in the gym. She wanted me to be present too, but that didn’t make any sense. I was already thinking far ahead. In order for Dwayne to feel free to make any move towards my wife, he should think that the coast was clear. So, when the day came, I created a last minute excuse not to be present. Irene wasn’t happy.
“I don’t want to be alone with him,” she said to me over the phone.
“You won’t be. There will be other people around you,” I reminded her.
In the end, my wife didn’t back out.
I wish I could be a little fly on the wall, so that I could freely watch them together but all I could do was to go home and fantasize about what could happen. I imagined Allen teaching Irene how to correctly use the training equipment: his eyes admiring her figure and taking her clothes off, one piece at a time; his hands boldly roaming along her body, correcting her posture and feeling her feminine curves. How would Irene feel? Would she feel uncomfortable and disrespected or excited and drawn to him?
When my wife finally got home, I was anxious to know what had happened.
“Nothing happened,” Irene said. “He politely came to me. We chatted for about five minutes and then we both went our separate way. What were you expecting?”
In the next few weeks, my wife maintained her new workout schedule but I saw no changes in her. My fantasy had been anticipating unrealistic scenarios that reality couldn’t match. Irene’s question was pertinent: what could I possibly expect from it?
Then one day, an ordinary weekday like many others, I was sitting on the couch, watching the TV news when Irene came from the kitchen and stood in front of me blocking my view. She seemed to want something from me. Unexpectedly, she knelt in front of me, between my legs, lowered my pants and underwear and put my cock in her mouth. I was in shock… Irene wasn’t a fan of oral sex. She had done it to me in the past but always to indulge my requests and never out of her own initiative. This time, I didn’t even have to mention it; she was willingly massaging my cock to full erection with her lips and tongue. I just sat there, speechless, enjoying that unique moment as if it were the first time I was experiencing a blowjob. In a way, it really felt like a first time, because Irene was licking and feeling my cock in her mouth with unseen passion. I was in heaven. Part of me wanted that moment to last forever, but I had to take advantage of her sudden enthusiasm and go a little further.
I stopped her and invited her to climb onto the couch. Irene thought I was preparing myself to penetrate her, but I had another idea in mind: I wanted to eat her pussy.
When my wife realized my intentions, she locked her legs and said, “No… I don’t want that… I want you inside of me…”
Irene wasn’t a fan of any kind of oral sex. Still, when we were younger, before our marriage, I had convinced her to let me lick her pussy a couple of times and I remember her enjoying it. Meanwhile, I don’t know why, she became more resistant to the idea. Irene claimed that she preferred for me to penetrate her and that she had no need for anything else.
However, this time, I wasn’t willing to give in to her objections. I gently forced her legs open and plunged my face into her wet pussy. My wife’s stubborn resistance ended the moment my mouth touched her. My lips probed inside her labia and I found the abundant presence of her arousing fluids. Only then I realized how much I had been missing that flavor.
Irene came a few minutes later. Her arms were hugging her body tightly as if she were protecting herself from being violated but her mouth was open wide as if a silent scream was being released.
When her body relaxed, I sat by her side and waited a couple of minutes before asking, “What was that?”
“What?” she replied in bad mood, as if she were being disturbed.
“Why did you attack me like that?”
“I don’t know…”
“Were you horny?”
“Yes…” my wife confessed with a more calm tone of voice. “I don’t know why… but I felt this strong desire to do it…”
I didn’t know if she was already regretting her decision but, from my part, there were no complaints. My cock was still hard, begging for attention. I held it and slowly stroke it while we were talking.
“Did something happen today in the gym?”
I had the feeling that Dwayne might have something to do with my wife’s unexpected impulse.
“No…” Irene awkwardly replied. “What could have happened?”
“Did Dwayne try something? Did he touch you?”
“Of course not!” she protested.
“Then how did he turn you on?”
A moment of silence followed my question and I realized that, this time, I was asking the right question.
“Lately we have been closer. He has been helping me using the training equipment. Looks like that I’ve been doing it all wrong.”
I nodded to my wife for her to proceed. This is what I had been expecting to hear right from the beginning. Slowly, as if she were trying to feel her ground, Irene continued, “He has been a gentleman… The problem is in me. I can’t stop thinking about sex and your stupid fantasy when I’m near him.”
“Keep going…” I encouraged her.
“I can’t stop looking at him… at his body. And, when I sense him staring at me, I feel like a silly teenager. Even the smell of his sweat turns me on.”
Irene was finishing these words when she realized that I had been touching myself while she was talking. This enraged her and she violently said, “This is your entire fault!”
Yes, the fault was mine. Thanks to me, the minor and temporary infatuation she had experienced in the beginning had evolved into a strong sexual attraction. That had been my plan all along. My wife’s sudden sexual explosion was the result of the growing sexual tension between her and Dwayne in the last few weeks.
“And today he asked me if I would join him for a cup of coffee after our workout,” Irene continued. There was a long moment of silence. My wife seemed to be expecting some sort of reaction from my part, but I quietly waited for the continuation of her account. “When I refused, he asked me if I wanted to go out with him one of these days.”
Gentleman or not, Dwayne knew how to make his move.
This time, I couldn’t contain myself, “What did you answer?”
“What did I answer?!” Irene repeated in disbelief. My wife seemed to be on the verge of a meltdown. “I’m a married woman. This can’t be happening… He probably noticed my silly behavior. He thinks that I’m after him.”
“Are you?” I provoked.
For a moment I thought that she was going to throw the nearest object at my head. But then Irene quieted herself, a false calm; she covered her nakedness and left the room in silence. We didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the day.
Next morning, Irene behaved as if nothing had happened. I tried to talk with her but she didn’t want to partake in any more conversations about Dwayne. I respected her decision and decided to give her a break. One moment I had a conservative wife not willing to do any sexual experimentation with me, the next moment, she was willingly spending time with a man to whom she felt attracted. Everything was happening fast, so a small break was, probably, not a bad idea. Nevertheless, as the days went by, Irene kept meeting Allen in the gym…
We didn’t talk about Dwayne for exactly one week. That day, when I opened the door of our apartment, I found my wife nervously expecting me inside. The door wasn’t closed yet and Irene was already all over me. Less than a minute later and we were having wild, enthusiastic sex in our bed.
After we were both satiated, Irene decided to speak about our recent transgressions once again, “This can’t go on. I never wanted any of this.”
“No! Dwayne and I… I can’t keep feeding this attraction.”
“What were you expecting to happen when I asked you to workout with him?” I confronted her.
“I don’t know…” Irene answered in dismay.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But I like it as it is.”
Irene shook her head as if I was missing the point.
“Don’t you get it? I… really… want… him!” my wife stressed with all her will. “That’s why I can keep seeing him.”
The bluntness of her confession stunned me. For the first time, my wife was expressing in words how much she desired Dwayne. One push on my part and Irene would succumb to my wishes, whatever they would be. I had to make up my mind. Did I really want my wife to fuck Dwayne?
After our conversation, it was decided that Irene would keep her meetings with Dwayne. Her earlier moment of frailty was put aside and she showed me a renewed determination to resist Dwayne’s advances. This was as far as she was willing to go. I accepted her decision but, deep inside, I was beginning to doubt the strength of her resolution.
In the next few weeks, I slowly watched my wife change. She learned how to handle the sexual tension and accept the lust inside of her. We kept using Dwayne to spice our intimate moments but her sexual outbursts disappeared.
One day, she told me, “Today, we had a cup of coffee together in the gym’s snack bar.” Irene’s tone was casual, but I noticed a hint of caution, as if she was apprehensive with my reaction. Then she added, “There is nothing wrong with a cup of coffee with a friend, right?”
Who was she trying to reassure: herself or me? I couldn’t help myself from feeling surprised, but I did my best to not to show it.
“Of course there isn’t,” I reassured her.
Soon, their coffee meetings after exercise became regular and began occurring also outside the gym. Slowly, Irene was taking her relationship with Dwayne a little further and letting me know of it. Every gym day, I would arrive home hoping to hear a new detail: their first lunch break together; her first ride home with Dwayne; how they exchanged phone numbers…
No matter how much enjoyment I was getting from our little game, I needed more. I needed to see them with my own eyes. So, one day, I decided to spy on my wife with her black friend without their knowledge…
I strategically parked my car so that I could perfectly see the gym’s entrance without being spotted. Then I waited. Fifteen minutes later, I spotted my wife and Dwayne leaving the premises side by side. Fortunately, they weren’t heading for their cars. Instead, they walked to the nearest coffee shop and I followed them at a safe distance. Not far, across the road, there was also a pastry shop. So, I walked in there, quickly ordered something, took a table inside and waited, while they were still inside. A few seconds later, they left their shop carrying a tray and occupied a table outside.
I couldn’t hear them nor see their facial expressions in detail, but from where I was standing I could observe them in safety. Somehow, I was expecting to see in Irene the silly teenager she had mentioned in the past, cornered by Dwayne’s presence. Instead, I saw a confident woman talking with a peer. There was an evident proximity between them, one we usually only have with close friends or relatives. As it had happened before, I felt jealousy growing inside me and, with it, also a profound excitement. I wished it was dark already. I wished there was a dim alley nearby where Dwayne could take my wife afterwards and fuck her hard against a building wall, while I observed everything from afar. Then I imagined Irene confessing to me how she had succumbed to his charms. My imagination was out of the rails: jealousy was the most powerful aphrodisiac.
Ten minutes later, Dwayne escorted my wife to her car. During their meeting, I didn’t notice any physical contact between the two, but that was about to change…
On the moment of parting, instead of a simple goodbye or a handshake, Dwayne leaned to Irene and kissed her on the cheek. The action seemed to be happening in slow motion. In fact, it was more than a feeling. The entire gesture developed in a purposely slow fashion, as if both of them pretended to delay the moment as long as they could. Irene accepted his kiss and she smiled when their stares met once again. At that moment, jealousy peaked in me… They were silently flirting with each other. At the least, Irene was flirting.
I intended to leave before Irene, so that I could arrive home first, but that moment paralyzed me. For a couple of minutes I kept quiet, inside my car, reliving the moment over and over again. Only then I left.
I desperately desired to arrive home so that I could fuck my wife fast and hard. And that’s what happened. Irene welcomed my unexpected enthusiasm as I had welcomed hers in the past. Only when I was too worn-out to continue, we shared words.
“Is everything alright?” Irene asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “Is everything alright with you too?”
“Yes,” she naturally said.
“Did anything happen today?”
“No,” Irene answered. But then she realized what I meant and adjusted her response, “Today, I had coffee with Dwayne… as we occasionally do.”
There was no reference to the kiss. Maybe I was giving too much importance to that kiss, but that was exactly the kind of details I wished from her.
“Today, I also have something to tell,” I mysteriously said.
“What?” Irene replied with apprehension.
“I saw you with Dwayne.”
“Where?” she nervously asked.
“From the time you left the gym until the moment you went separate ways.”
“Were you spying on us?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
Irene quickly got up as if she didn’t want to share a bed with me for the rest of the conversation. Her face was a mirror of all kinds of inner emotions.
“Why did you do that?”
“I had to see you. I couldn’t resist.”
“I’m not comfortable with that. You should have told me,” Irene accused.
Yes, I should have told her. But I wished to see her in her usual environment. If she knew I was there, everything would be different. I explained this to her and her anger lessened, but shame and fear remained.
Irene told me that she felt like a different woman when she was with Dwayne, maybe a necessary rationalization on her part to help her deal with the situation. But what surprised me the most was the implied fear in her words and reaction. No matter how many times I had told it to her before, she still didn’t understand how my fantasy worked in my mind.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked, at one point.
How could my wife ask me that?
“No! I…” I replied. I wanted to tell her how much I had enjoyed seeing her, but no words could describe it.
“Weren’t you jealous?” Irene asked incredulous.
“Oh, yes… I was jealous… You can’t imagine how much…” I honestly said. “It was amazing.”
My wife looked at me as if I wasn’t making sense. I guess someone would have to feel what I felt to understand it.
“Did you like it?” she tried.
“Oh yes… You were gorgeous… fantastic…”
“You’re crazy,” Irene said as she smiled; a confused but honest smile. Despite some signs of reluctance, my enthusiasm was infecting her.
“Does he still keep inviting you to go out with him?” I asked, dramatically changing the direction of the conversation. In the heat of the moment, I was about to take our game even further without thinking about the consequences.
“Have dinner with him.”
Irene looked at me in awe.
“I can’t… He will get the wrong idea…”
“Let him get the wrong idea,” I promptly replied. I was expecting some reluctance from her part, but no words were coming from her open mouth. “Will you do it?”
After a long moment of silence, Irene finally answered, “Okay… Just dinner and nothing more.”
I never thought my wife would agree so easily.
“Just dinner… nothing more,” I agreed.
A week later, Irene had progresses to declare: their date had been scheduled for the following Saturday evening.
I guess part of me was in denial those days before Saturday. Somehow, I was expecting Irene to back out in the last moment or to confess that there wasn’t any date at all. This feeling was also justified by Irene’s behavior: I couldn’t see any unrest or excitement, reluctance or enthusiasm in her. She was behaving as if nothing special was about to happen.
Only when I saw my wife all dressed up and ready to leave, I was sure of what was about to happen. Part of me wanted to ask her to stay and cancel her meeting with Dwayne; but most of all I felt aroused by the moment. Irene wasn’t wearing any special clothes, make-up or perfume, only one of her usual evening dresses. However, in my mind, she seemed hotter than ever.
“Do I look good?” Irene asked. Her question was plain and simple, but also seemed to imply much more. I felt as if she was asking me if I was sure about all that.
“Yes,” I replied trying to sound resolute.
Irene didn’t say anything else; we kissed and she left.
From inside our apartment, I watched her enter the taxi that would take her to the restaurant. Only then, the numbness that had surrounded me in the previous days left me for good. I realized that I didn’t have a reason for allowing my wife to go to that dinner. What did I mean to accomplish with this new step? Her recent intimacy with Dwayne, as it was, was enough to ignite our imagination and passion. Irene was already more open to experimentation in our sexual interactions than ever before in our marital relationship. What else could I want? Unless… The key question was still to be answered: do I really want my wife to have sex with Dwayne?
I wanted to ask about what Irene was feeling and what her plans were, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to pressure her. Somehow, not knowing beforehand seemed like a good idea. I was in her hands and it felt tremendously exciting. I was sure of one thing though: no matter what would happen that night, I wanted it to be Irene’s decision. However, I couldn’t stay home, waiting; I had to see them with my own eyes. So I grabbed my car keys and left to again spy on my wife.
Fortunately, I knew where the restaurant was. Irene had told me the address herself, just in case, although I didn’t know what ‘just in case’ was supposed to mean. It was located conveniently out of town, so that no known eyes could catch them together. Also, after my stunt a few days earlier, I was expecting her to plainly ask me if I intended to spy upon her once more. Her silence about this matter felt like an encouragement for me to follow her… or maybe this was the way I had to justify my behavior.
When I got to the restaurant, I immediately realized that there was no way for me to observe them from the outside and entering the premises was out of the question. I had no plan, no idea of what to look for or expect, so I was left with no choice but to wait outside, hidden in my car.
I parked my vehicle on the far side of the parking lot, where it was darker and away from the other cars. From there, I had a good view of both the parking lot and the restaurant door, without being too exposed. Then I waited and it felt like an eternity.
As expected in a place like that, there were always people coming and going. Other cars occupied some of the empty parking spaces close to mine, concealing me even more, but there was no sight of Irene. Without anything else to occupy it, my mind began producing reasons for worrying. What if they weren’t there? What if that was the wrong restaurant or they had changed their minds and left to somewhere else before my arrival? Worse than being caught spying them was the possibility of being there for nothing so, I began considering my options. One of them was getting inside the premises: maybe by disguising myself or maybe by trying to enter through the service door in the back… Fortunately, much to my relief and before I did something stupid, Irene appeared at the door. They were leaving.
That moment of relief was quickly replaced by more worrying. Now, that they were in my sight, the idea of being caught spying on them didn’t seem as unimportant as before.
I sank in my seat and observed them walking towards his car. It was located halfway across the parking lot, in the opposite row from where I was sitting. They got in the vehicle and then, without seemingly hesitating, as if they had it all planned, they kissed. From where I was standing all I could see were two silhouettes blending, but I knew that it wasn’t a kiss on the cheek as I had seen a few days ago. Irene was allowing her date’s tongue to explore her, I was sure of it. It seemed all so simple and easy, maybe too easy. Who knows if that was their first kiss? Who knows what else my wife has been doing with him without telling me? I felt the jealousy inside of me but I wasn’t mad. In fact, I realized that I was cheering for him. I wanted him to break the last efforts of resistance of my wife. Then, they broke contact and I could see, once again, two distinct silhouettes inside the car.
For a while they talked, nothing more. They chatted for a long time. People were leaving the restaurant and emptying the parking lot. I was nervous with the idea of becoming too exposed. Slowly, I also began noticing what appeared to be signs of agitation on Irene’s part. She seemed to be constantly looking around and moving over her seat. One suspicion came to my mind: was she looking for me? Did she know that I was watching her? I sank even more in my seat, a self-preservation reaction. If she knew I was there, then that earlier kiss might have been a way to tease me. In that case, it meant that Irene was playing the game fully aware of its rules. I was in her hands. However, despite my aroused thoughts, nothing had prepared me for what was about to happen. At least, not on their first date…
Once again, their bodies moved closer to each other and they were kissing. It lasted only a few seconds. Then, Irene took one last glance around, her silhouette leaned towards her male date and her shadow completely disappeared from within the car. I could no longer see Irene, at all. For a moment I was in denial; I thought she was after something that might have fallen on the floor, but there was really only one plausible explanation for what I was, or rather wasn’t, seeing. He leaned backwards in his seat and I imagined his eyes shutting in pleasure as my wife took his huge black cock in her mouth for the first time.
Back and forth, my mind shifted from a state of denial to amazement. Stunned by the moment, I looked around as if it wasn’t possible to be the unique witness of that incredible moment. Irene, my wife, was giving head to a black guy in a parking lot. Reality was emulating my most audacious fantasies. Was that really my wife and not just a lookalike? Where was her shyness?
I had never told Irene what I knew about his huge cock. Many times I felt tempted, but I had always imagined her in awe and delight the moment she realized it for the first time. I didn’t want to take from her that astonishing moment, even in the beginning when my fantasy seemed completely impossible. That big black cock was my present to her, my best present ever. A gift she was unwrapping at that moment.
After a minute or so, that felt like a lifetime, I saw Irene’s shadow re-emerge; the car started and they left at last.
I should have followed them right away, but I didn’t. I was frozen, still concealing myself in my seat, trying to fathom the meaning of that moment with my cock swollen inside my pants to the point of almost being painful. When I finally reacted, it was too late and there was no sign of them.
When I arrived home, I was prepared to see Irene waiting for me, but she wasn’t there. Her date wasn’t over yet. So I waited.
I was waiting for my wife to come home, knowing that she was on a date with another man. It wasn’t a dream or a fantasy any longer; I was living it. Who knew what they could be doing at that very moment? Now that Irene’s innocence had been lost, everything was possible. As far as I knew that black, hung guy could be fucking my lovely Irene at that exact moment, giving her what she never had and making her feel what she had never felt before. Would she think of me then? Would she remember me?
There was noise outside; I thought it could be she… but it wasn’t. I was dying in anticipation for the moment my sweet wife would cross our apartment’s door. Would I see a new glow in her eyes when she got home? From that day, I could never again say my wife was conservative. Would she hide from me what had happened in the parking lot, like a cheating wife? Would she be naughty and openly detail her date to me? Would she tease me?
I heard noise outside again, this time followed by the sound of the lock of our apartment’s door. My wife was back. I didn’t want to look too eager, so I waited for her to come to me.
“How did it go?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“It went well,” Irene cautiously replied.
I searched in her hair, her make-up and her dress for any sign of mischief. Everything seemed in order. I approached her and kissed her as we use to do when one of us arrives home. Her body felt unusually stiff. Was she trying to judge what was on my mind as I was doing with her? Was she afraid?
“Did you go somewhere else after dinner?” I asked. It was almost midnight.
“We took a walk afterwards.”
Only a walk, I wondered?
“Did he give you a ride back home?”
“Yes,” she casually said.
Irene wasn’t giving me anything, so I let her take a shower and waited for her in bed. Her plain answers were making me question what I thought I already knew.
Only, when we were both lying together, did she begin talking.
“I don’t know how to say this…” Irene began. There was a moment of silence, as if she was expecting me to make it easy for her. “Something happened… Something more than dinner, or coffee or taking a walk… I pleased him with my mouth.”
Irene’s last words came out in a rush, as if she had decided it was best to face my reaction as quickly as possible. Her eyes were set on me, waiting, pleading for a response, any kind of response.
I didn’t know what to say. Her bluntness and sincerity had both disarmed and aroused me. So, I bent over her, gently secured her head with my hands and kissed her, this time much more passionately. My hard penis was pressing against her thigh. This was my way of showing her my consent. And it was enough for her…
Suddenly, all her anxiety and nerves poured out in a stream of words, “I can’t believe I did it. I never thought… I left home sure that nothing would happen. Everything was under control… then he kissed me in the car and put my hand inside his pants… I didn’t reject him… I knew what he wanted from me… Before I knew it, he was pulling it out and saying, ‘Suck my cock, Irene.’ Those words… I couldn’t believe he was saying those words to me. He meant it! So I did it!”
Then, my wife stopped, seemingly tired, as if saying those words had been a giant task. Again, she was waiting for some reaction from me, but this time her mood seemed different. Irene still seemed anxious, but no longer due to fear or doubt. I was trapped inside her words and she could feel it.
“Is it over?” I asked.
“No,” Irene said lightly. Her assuredness was growing fast. “We went to his apartment.”
“Yes,” I said in approval.
I instinctively reached for her pussy and gently rubbed it over her pajama. Irene moved my hand away and showed me some discomfort. Then she said, “He is big. You won’t believe how big and thick he is. It’s unbelievable. I never thought…” Words were coming out of her mouth with growing enthusiasm and then abruptly stopped.
I teased her, “I told you before. Black guys have big cocks.”
Irene didn’t bother contradicting me, “Oh, he is big alright. Huge! I never thought they could be so big.”
My wife was showing awe, amazement and joy, all at once. Now she knew what is out there. I wouldn’t give her to just anyone. Irene is special, so she deserved something special too.
“Did you fuck him?” I asked to my wife.
“Oh yes,” she confessed with pride.
I couldn’t hold myself any longer, “Suck my cock, Irene.”
My wife smiled due to the reference to her episode with her lover. Her expression was showing pure delight. I had never talked like that to my wife. But now, I was sure that she was ready to appreciate it. And she was, indeed. Irene positioned herself and exposed my hard penis. For a moment, she just stared as if she was trying to comprehend how her black lover could have so much when I had so little. Now she knew what is out there. I felt as if I had never been nude in front of her.
“Is it small?” I asked trying to lead her to say what was on her mind.
“Yes,” Irene replied smiling. “But I love you.”
Then she took my penis in her mouth and she serviced me willingly. It didn’t take long for me to ejaculate. My cum fell on my belly, much to my disappointment. I wanted Irene to take it in her mouth, but I needed it to be out of her initiative. She wasn’t ready, yet.
There were no more questions, no more words that night. We cuddled and fell asleep together.
Next morning, I woke up feeling my wife agitated in bed. Irene was holding her cell phone in her hand as if something bad had happened.
“He sent me a text message,” she said.
“What does it say?”
“He wants to be with me again,” Irene said in distress. “What do I do?”
I was surprised by her reaction. Then I realized that, in her mind, her sexual encounter had been nothing more than a one-night stand, something to remember forever but never to repeat.
“Do you want to be with him again?” I confronted her.
No matter what she thought would happen afterwards, Irene knew too well what she desired.
“Yes, I want to be Dwayne’s secret girlfriend,” she said.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Irene wouldn’t be as clear if she didn’t know I would grant her wish.
The old Irene was gone. My wife no longer repressed her fantasies and desires, resigned to do what society expected from her. On the outside, she was still a respectful, modest woman. But secretly, she was enjoying black cock from a younger man. And I was her cuckolded husband, happy with the wife I had.
For the first time, Irene was indeed in charge. Sometimes, I still sensed a small spark of doubt or indecision in her. In those cases, I subtly intervened, not making her mind up for her in this or that way, but assuring her that I wanted her to make her own choices. Irene learned fast. So, occasionally, whenever they wished and found themselves in the mood, my wife and her lover met in private to materialize their sexual relationship. We didn’t know how long this adventure would last: maybe a few encounters, maybe more… That wasn’t important.
Her lover didn’t know of our arrangement. He must have thought that I was a wimp, not competent enough to prevent my wife from screwing around behind my back. Little did he know that I knew all about their trysts and that, in fact, Irene was deceiving him and we were using him, much like he was using her. This deception was the price he had to pay to fuck my Irene.
Slowly, we adjusted our sex life to the new reality. Rituals were created.
Watching my wife getting dressed for her dates was one of those rituals. Irene’s lingerie evolved, reflecting the changes inside of her, and became much more sexy and suggestive. However, she always saved the initial exhibition of these new intimate garments for her secret dates with Dwayne.
“I bought this for my boyfriend. Do you like it?” she used to say while she was dressing for her date.
Irene took special pride in using the word ‘boyfriend’, probably because of the “forbidden fruit” nature of the term.
“I love it,” I always replied.
Then, Irene used to stimulate my jealousy by saying as she looked approvingly at herself in the mirror, “I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees it.”
It was all about him and not me.
On another day, also before one of their meetings, Irene showed me her freshly shaved pussy. This was a nice surprise. She used to tend her pubic hair, but she had never shaved it bare.
“My boyfriend said he likes it this way. He asked me to try it for him,” Irene teased. All I waited was to lay her in bed and feel her smooth skin against my face as I licked her. I tried to do it, but she didn’t let me. “No. This is for him. You can feel it tomorrow,” she playfully said.
Often, Irene laughed after these little games of ours, expressing the enjoyment that she felt with them.
Later, after arriving home, my wife always took a shower before meeting me in our bed. Then, she shared some of the details of her dates. Her comments were never an objective account of what had happened. I realized that not knowing everything was often much more exciting for me. Instead, Irene enjoyed toying with my jealousy and the strong arousing effect it had in me.
“Today, he asked me to dance for him… like a real stripper,” Irene said once.
I wanted her to dance for me too, but I it would be pointless to ask. At those moments, she never complied with my requests. I couldn’t touch her pussy. I couldn’t fuck my own wife after her dates. That was the price I had to pay for sharing Irene with such a hung guy. But I knew, if I were patient, that she would reward me later, sometimes when I least expected.
“You do realize I have a boyfriend, don’t you?” Irene teased me in another occasion. “He is so manly and strong. He is having sex with me… your wife. Aren’t you jealous?”
“Yes,” I answered in awe; a pointless response because she knew quite well what I felt.
“I danced for him. Then he fucked me,” my wife said. “I had his cock in me. Whenever I have him inside of me I feel so full and stretched. I love the sensation!” Her hand touched her pussy over her pajama and she continued, “I can still feel him inside… I never thought they could be so big and thick. But he is so patient and amazing… and it feels so good… I’m so lucky…”
Now, Irene knew what was out there. I could be the best husband in the world, but I could never match her boyfriend in bed. Now she had someone else to equate me with and the comparison wasn’t kind to me. Now she knew how small her husband was. For the first time, Irene knew me altogether. And, if I couldn’t give her what she deserved, then she knew that she was allowed to search for it elsewhere.
“Is he better than me?” I asked. I wanted to know how confident and bold my wife had become and how honest she dared to be.
For a moment Irene stood silent, pondering about her answer or trying to read my mind. Then, she replied without wavering, “I love you so much… but I wouldn’t have a boyfriend if he wasn’t much better…” Then, Irene winked at me, lessening some of the cruelty of her words.
Hearing my wife describe how good she felt was extraordinary. I thrived upon her enthusiasm and genuinely desired her to have the best experience possible. Her pleasure was my pleasure, even if she was getting it from another man.
“Do you ever think of me when you’re with him?” I dared to ask once more.
“Sometimes…” she teased me. Then, not content with our current tone of conversation, Irene whispered in my ear, “But when he lifts me in the air with his strong arms and his cock is inside of me, I feel him and only him. At those times, he is my man.”
My wife’s words were outrageous but I knew she meant them, all of them; never before she had said so much with so few words.
That night, before falling asleep, Irene added one last thing, “I just wish you could see me.”
Yes, I desperately wanted to see her too. I had committed myself not to try to persuade my wife and let her have her own choices, but this new desire was too strong to contain. So, one day, I asked her to have one of her secret meetings in our apartment.
“What about you?” Irene replied showing some distress.
“I’ll be hidden.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” she said. There was reluctance in her eyes. My wife knew perfectly what I was looking for: an opportunity to watch her with my own eyes.
“Bring him to our bed,” I dared to say.
For a moment, there was a glitter of enthusiasm in her eyes. She was attracted to the naughtiness of it.
“What would I say to him?” she asked and I instantly knew that she would do it.
“Tell him that I’m away on a business trip. Tell him it’s safe.”
“I’ll tell him that I want him in my bed…” Irene said in her playful tone.
If there was still any reluctance in Irene from then on, she masked it too well. Our adventure was taking a new step.
Irene wanted to lock me in the second bedroom so that her lover couldn’t catch me in the apartment. I couldn’t agree with that, of course. In addition to changing the sheets and hiding all the signs of my presence there, Irene’s behavior on the day of her date was much more modest. There was a different kind of tension in the air this time.
That late afternoon, when she left for her date with her lover, Irene switched off the lights and left me behind in the dark. Then, I placed myself by the window and saw my wife enter her boyfriend’s car. It would be less dangerous if they didn’t meet outside our building, but I trusted Irene’s discretion. Besides, she enjoyed playing the unfaithful wife part.
We had it all planned, nothing could go wrong. However, I had a small surprise for Irene, something that I had planned without her knowledge. I fetched a package I had concealed from her. Inside, there was a full-length mirror, which I purposely placed in our bedroom, facing the bed sideways.
The initial idea came to me a couple of days before. I knew that Irene and I wouldn’t have the chance to communicate with each other. So, I had the idea of a mirror, a big mirror, where she could watch herself with her lover. That way, she would be able to see what I was seeing and maybe realize what I may be feeling. I didn’t know if all of this would make any sense later… but it wouldn’t hurt either. So I went forward with the idea.
Then, I waited, in the dark, by the window, a torturous wait. Jealousy and anxiety were high… as was also my arousal.
My excitement peaked when I noticed their car approaching outside, it manifested itself as a mix of the earlier arousal accompanied by fear. I headed for my hiding place and waited a while longer. The door opened. There were voices. They were inside. The dark surrounding me was disturbed by light coming from one of the other rooms. For a while, the silence was only interrupted by indistinct sounds. They were faint but I could feel they were coming from closer and closer. Then, there was a long period of silence, broken by low voices that seemed to come from our bedroom. Irene had taken her boyfriend there, our intimate place, our sanctuary, just like we had planned. They were probably getting comfortable in the bed where we sleep every night.
I wanted to leave my dark corner and peek outside. But the fear of being caught was too strong. I had to use my head and be patient. So, I waited… I don’t know for how long. Troubled thoughts haunted me. Something was happening between my wife and the black man, I was sure of it. But I was missing it. All that plan and wait would be pointless because I was missing it all. Then, I heard a moan, a female moan. This time, it wasn’t an indistinct sound. It was a perfectly clear moan. I couldn’t wait any longer. So I stepped out of my hideout.
In bare feet, I cautiously walked to the door of my room and peeked outside. Everything was dark, except the light coming from the bedroom where Irene and her companion were supposed to be. I could hear sounds coming from there. They were both there, I was sure of it. Their door was slightly ajar, allowing me to approach their room without being seen. The dark surrounding me would conceal me from their light accustomed eyes, as long as I wasn’t too greedy and went too close. A second moan coming from my wife encouraged me to proceed. So, carefully, I looked inside.
The first impression was a tremendous disappointment. The gap was too small. Only a small part of the bed could be seen. Irene was out of my sight. A third moan sounded. I couldn’t see her but they were somewhere on the bed. I had no choice but to wait for them to move and hope for the best.
Following the last moan, a new voice was heard. This time, it was a male voice, “You like this, don’t you? You like black cock.”
“Yes…” Irene answered.
I felt desperate. My wife and another man were having sex in the room next to me. It was happening a few feet away but I couldn’t see anything.
“Ah, your pussy feels good baby,” the manly voice gladly expressed.
Irene didn’t answer back, but a new moan came from her. All I had from her were those occasional sounds and I appreciated them as precious gifts. I had never realized how hot her voice could sound, maybe because I had never paid enough attention or maybe because I had never made her feel as that man was making her feel. It was the sound of pure lust unleashed.
Then, I was lucky. With a few commands, Irene’s black stud gave me what I needed, “Turn around baby. That’s right… Wait… Face that mirror… Beautiful…”
Suddenly, my wife’s body appeared in my line of sight. I instinctively recoiled behind the door and waited a few seconds before peeking again. Irene was lying on the bed, on her stomach. I could see her beautiful red hair, the light skin of her shoulders, her delicate hands supporting part of her body weight and a small part of her arms and back.
“Spike your ass baby,” he commanded.
Irene reacted by raising her head and facing the mirror where the image of him must have been reflected. I could see by her body language that she was complying with his request too. Then, I witnessed in my wife’s face the seemingly overwhelming sensation of his cock reentering her. Irene’s expression could be translated in two words: so much. So much meat in her; so much pleasure.
“Oh nice pussy…” he encouraged her. “Good girl.”
The difference of age between them wasn’t evident in the way he treated my wife. He was the dominant presence there.
Slowly, Irene’s body relaxed. She let her weight fall onto the bed and her right cheek rested over the sheet. Her face was facing the exit. In fact, she was looking straight at me. For a moment, I thought that she was actually seeing me but her face seemed void of recognition. Irene couldn’t distinguish my presence. The surrounding dark protected me from her eyes. But she was trying, maybe imagining me on the other side of that door.
From behind, her black lover pounded her. I couldn’t see him, but I could sense his presence by the subtle wobble of Irene’s body. He was pounding my wife, but he was taking his time, patiently letting the pleasure take over her. I could see it in Irene’s eyes. I could see the shame and awkwardness but also the lust and satisfaction. With her lover out of sight, it felt as if we were alone, just the two of us.
Then, Irene looked away from me and faced the mirror. She rediscovered her lover’s figure behind her and for a moment the image seemed to astonish her.
“I like this mirror,” he responded to her gaze.
For a while, my wife contemplated the image before her as I was contemplating her. That scene seemed implausible, like a dream. There was a hidden man fucking Irene, my wife. I couldn’t see it but there was a cock in her. It wasn’t a fantasy. It wasn’t a tale or something I was being told of. It was happening before me.
I realized that my pants were partially down and that I was touching myself with my right hand. How humiliating it would be if, by chance, that door opened before me and Irene’s boyfriend discovered me touching myself as I watched them? He would see me stimulating myself at the sight of my wife’s adulterous behavior. He would notice my small penis erect and he would understand why Irene needed him. What would he do if he found me there? Would he leave? Or would he rise to the occasion and keep fucking my wife before my presence.
The hidden man broke the silence, “You’re too quiet today baby. Come on; tell me what you need… Say it.”
Say what, I wondered? I didn’t know what he meant, but Irene’s shy reaction showed that she knew what he intended. Something was telling me that, if I wasn’t there, she wouldn’t be so modest. Then, he added, “I know you like to hear yourself say it and there is no better place to do it than here.”
The words hesitantly came from Irene’s mouth, “I’m a bad girl. I need a big cock.”
“Just any cock?” he insisted.
“No, I need a big black cock. Please, give it to me,” Irene replied.
“What would your husband say if he saw you?”
My wife didn’t answer. Instead, a nervous smile escaped Irene’s mouth. She knew I was there. She knew I was listening to her. He had no idea… Her boyfriend could use her, touch her, defile her body with his cock and her mind with foul ideas, but there was a part of her he couldn’t have. Irene wasn’t looking at me. She wasn’t speaking to me. But, in that moment, I felt her complicity. Her boyfriend couldn’t touch that.
“What would your friends say?” he continued.
Surprisingly, this time, Irene didn’t stay silent, “I want them to know. I want to tell all my girlfriends I’m having a big black cock.”
Irene would never tell this to anyone, I was sure of it. But her determinant words almost led me to question this certainty. Her words were strong, contradicting her submissive posture. Suddenly, a black hand appeared in the scene and pulled my wife out of my line of sight. I could no longer see, only listen to what was being said.
“What would they say in the office if they had caught us?” he said. His tone was confusing me. He seemed to be speaking of something that had really happened. “Look, there goes Irene, a married woman who was caught spreading her white legs on her desk for her black lover.”
Irene had been screwing her boyfriend in the office. Only that once… who knows how many times? My wife had my permission to do as she wished but I didn’t know she was playing outside her nightly dates. This small secret felt like a little betrayal. It meant that she had fully incorporated her new power in our marriage. It strengthened my jealousy but she had nothing to fear. In fact, I wished my wife could have many more secrets.
“Oh fuck! This feels good…” Irene let escape. Whatever he was doing, she was enjoying it. My wife’s body didn’t appear in my line of sight for the rest of the night, with the exception of an arm here and there. I was comfortable staying where I was until the moment she cried in ecstasy. They weren’t over, but the fear of being caught was stronger from then on. I went back to my hideout and, from that place, I absorbed every sound coming from Irene as if it were the last. Through her voice, I was sharing that experience with her. It took a long while until I finally heard our apartment’s door close and my wife came looking for me. Her lover was gone.
Knowing that your wife is having an affair with another man can have quite an impact on you, but nothing comparable to the moment you witness their intimacy with your own eyes. As she was lying on the bed with her companion, I realized how much Irene had changed over the last months.
Unlike what had happened in the past, when she learned that I had spied upon her with her lover, this time Irene wasn’t unsure or fearful.
“Was it as you had dreamed it would be?” she playfully confronted me after her lover left.
I nodded in reply and then asked, “Was it good?”
Irene responded to me with a new question, “Did you not hear me?”
No answer was needed from my part.
Irene didn’t ask if I had left my hideout but, from then on, she always spoke as if I did. Nor did my wife ever talk about her recent office mischief. She showed no discomfort, as it had never been a secret, or as if there wasn’t any need to justify herself. When I touched the subject once, out of curiosity, she simply replied, “I couldn’t restrain myself.” There was defiance in her eyes, as if she was adding, “You like that, don’t you?”
Yes, I did. Not knowing what surprises my wife had in store for me in the future was quite exciting. It was also extraordinary how competent she had become at playing with my mind. The image of my wife lying in bed as her boyfriend fucked her from behind, and the sound of her lascivious moans, drove my libido for weeks. I couldn’t see what could be more intense than that. That experience also touched Irene and I felt her love and proximity more than ever. The effect of that night never disappeared but, with time, some of its intensity faded on both of us.
Meanwhile, as my wife’s extra conjugal life lost its novelty and some of the excitement associated with it also began to fade, my attention moved to a new element. Just like her lingerie before, her dressing was becoming more dashing: an unbuttoned blouse here, a shorter skirt there, nothing too extreme and always very tasteful. Irene was slowly blossoming before me, releasing all the sensuality that was hidden in her. However, she wasn’t changing for me, nor for her lover. Irene was doing it for herself and discovering a new pleasure from it. Our acquaintances noticed the changes and welcomed them as a good thing, not knowing what was behind it.
The intensity of our sex life had been at insane levels for the last months, but it was unrealistic to think it would last forever.
Irene kept seeing her lover. In fact, while our sexual activity was diminishing in frequency and intensity, it seemed that she was spending more and more time with him. Their meetings became more spontaneous instead of the usual scheduled dates. Sometimes, all it took was a phone call or a text message from him. It was also evident that they were screwing around after work on a fairly regular basis.
Irene was happy with her dual life. She had the better of two worlds: a loving and caring husband at home and a secret boyfriend with whom she could play the unfaithful wife without jeopardizing her marriage. For a while, I was content too. But jealousy would take a new role in our story.
Jealousy had always acted as an aphrodisiac in my mind. I had learned to detect it in me and enjoy it. However, with the new developments, it started to acquire a bitter tone. In the beginning I tried to shake it off, but it didn’t go away. Instead, it grew. For the first time I was feeling threatened by my wife’s affair. So, one day, when we were calmly enjoying some time together, I overcame my hesitation and said to her, “I’ve been doing some thinking lately, about our secret, and I think we should move on.”
Irene looked at me and warmly smiled. However, her expression was also showing that she was puzzled with my words.
“I think you should break up with him,” I assertively added.
Instantly, my wife’s smile disappeared. The confusion had been replaced by surprise and unrest. Then, as if she was defending herself from an aggression, she cried, “No!”
Irene’s answer stunned me. Her eyes were open wide and the muscles of her face were tense. The short and resolute answer showed that her decision wasn’t open to discussion. I had never expected such a reaction coming from her, so I didn’t know how to react and said nothing. Irene was openly telling that she would keep seeing her lover, even without my consent.
We spent the greater part of that day in a family event. Anyone who looked at us only saw a married couple in harmony, but the earlier subject was eating me alive and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’m sure Irene was feeling the same way.
I postponed the imminent conversation until we were both in bed, later at night. However, I had no clue how to begin. So, I leaned over Irene and kissed her on the lips, just to break the ice. Jealousy can be a tricky feeling. All of a sudden, the need to touch her and feel her skin was stronger than everything. I had this strong need to claim her back as if I had lost her for a while. Naturally, our caresses and kisses intensified and we took our sleepwear off.
Suddenly, Irene stopped me. I looked at her and perceived she had something on her mind. My wife gently pushed me way, showing me that she wasn’t rejecting me. I obediently knelt in the bed before her as she seemed to desire. Then, Irene spread her legs, very slowly, exposing her pussy as if she was performing for me: she guided her hand towards her crotch; one finger parted her labia and probed inside; it slowly slid along her skin towards her clit; then she slowly led it to her mouth and savored her own juices.
How could I not love that? The pending conversation had completely slipped my mind.
Irene’s hand went back to her crotch and she began touching herself before me. Her pubic hair was all shaved, as her boyfriend liked. Along with Irene’s mind, her girly parts had also changed. My wife’s pussy had become accustomed to her lover’s extra-large size. Only his cock could ever make her feel full again. That’s why she no longer sought me as a lover as she used to do, I was sure of it. I knew I couldn’t pleasure her anymore.
My jealousy had once again captured my thoughts but my wife woke me up from my trance. I never thought that her performance had a second intention, until the moment she told me, “Lick my cunt. Show me how much you love me.”
The timing of her request wasn’t innocent. My wife knew me too well. She was purposely leading me into a submissive position and, thus, making a point. We weren’t playing a game anymore. When my lips touched her labia, I already knew that my wife wouldn’t end her affair. It didn’t matter if I consented or not. My wife would do as it pleased her. And I would accept it, because I loved her and I was under her spell. When she caressed my hair and pushed my face towards her pussy, I felt rewarded. Irene had full control over me.
From that night on, I could have felt that I was an inmate trapped in a cage, a prisoner of a situation I no longer desired, but it didn’t turn out that way after all. My wife’s portrayed self-confidence and dominion impressed me and convinced me that this was how our marriage was going to be, at least for the time being.
There were times when jealousy was more prominent than ever and our sexual activity never regained its earlier glory. Nevertheless, I was happy to be living her fantasy. In fact, although I would have been content if my wife had proceeded according to my request, part of me loved the moment she said “no”.
One day, when we were playing with each other in bed, Irene asked me, “Want to try something new?” Then she handed me a condom, playfully knelt on all fours before me and said, “Put it in my other hole.”
We had never done it before, so I was both surprised and excited by the prospect of trying something new. But nothing had prepared me for the wonder and shock I felt when I witnessed my wife taking my penis without any seemingly effort. This is how I learned that it wasn’t Irene’s first time.
On another occasion, I find out that Irene was letting her lover cum inside of her, when she left a pair of sperm-filled panties on our bedroom floor. I knew that her underwear hadn’t been forgotten there. Irene had planted them, after one of her dates, so that I could find them and learn what she had been doing with her boyfriend.
Only these occasional discoveries could break our newly mundane routine. Our relationship resembled the old days, but it wasn’t due to Irene’s apparent lack of interest in sex, as before. This time, my wife was having plenty of cock, just not from me.
I wanted more, but the joyful look on Irene’s face was enough to assuage any troubled feelings I could be having. My wife was happy and I was happy for her. I was still her husband, the man she loved, the man with whom she spent most of her free time and shared the most significant moments of her life. In the end, no matter how much fun she could be having with her boyfriend, Irene would always come back to me.
Then, one day, without prior notice, the sky fell on my head.
“I’m pregnant…” Irene said to me.
My wife had been waiting for me to come home from work. When I saw her, I immediately noticed that something had happened and that she had something to tell me. Irene was deeply troubled and her voice trembled.
I was so surprised that, in the beginning, I didn’t realize the full extent of Irene’s words.
“Dwayne…” Irene nervously added. Dwayne… Despite being a constant presence in my wife’s life, a long time had passed since we had pronounced his name to each other. Her lover had no name. He was nobody, just a sex toy to be used at will. “Dwayne is the father,” she continued in a begging tone as if she was expecting me to make it right.
I couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true.
“Are you sure?” I asked, still numb from the shock and unable to clearly think. “How did that happen?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Irene replied as if she was about to break into tears.
I didn’t doubt her certainty. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been inside my wife, much less the last time I had cum in her. Lately, Irene had become her boyfriend’s propriety. Only he touched her in a sexual way.
After such a blow, neither of us was thinking straight nor in condition to make any decision. We had to calm ourselves and consider the options. However, for Irene, there was only one possible path, “I’m having this baby.”
At the time, I didn’t contradict her. Her decision wasn’t set in stone, especially when it had been made at such a troubled time. Later, we got back to it. However, no matter the consequences, Irene didn’t change her mind.
“I want this baby,” she insisted.
For a few days I still entertained the idea I could change her plans. But, sooner or later, I had to face reality. My wife was pregnant. Irene was having a baby from another man.
I was trapped and powerless before her decision. I could break up our marriage and leave her… This option was at my disposal, but I loved her too much to take this path. I couldn’t live without Irene.
We had played with fire but the price I had to pay seemed unfairly high. In the moment that child comes to this world, everyone would know that it wasn’t mine. Everyone would know that Irene had fucked another man. Everyone would know that I had been cuckolded with a black guy. I couldn’t pretend otherwise.
In the end, I resigned myself to bear all this punishment out of love for my wife. I accepted my fate. She was pregnant by another man. Irene had welcomed her black lover’s seed and, now, there was a part of him growing in her. Nothing would be the same in our lives.
For a short while, this all seemed like a bad dream that I would wake from at any time. On the other hand, despite the circumstances and after the initial shock, Irene couldn’t hide the happiness her condition was giving to her. This happiness numbed me and confused me, at first, but slowly changed me and I embraced it.
My Irene, my sweet Irene was having a baby from another man, a black child. Just when I was beginning to accept the idea of Irene having the baby, and I was beginning to conform, I found out that Irene was still seeing her lover.
I thought that my wife’s pregnancy had changed her priorities. I thought that we had both learned our lesson and her affair was history. For a while, it seemed that way. Then, all of a sudden, it started all over again.
I tried to endure it, the best I could. Irene was still my wife and she loved me, but her lover was the father of her future child. I couldn’t see how she could maintain their relationship just at a sexual level. That guy had to leave our lives for good.
Then, one night, Irene slept away from our bed and only came home after sunrise. I spent all night long tormenting myself: imagining Irene sleeping next to her black lover; holding him while they slept; waking up next to him. Worse of all was not knowing if she would come back to me at all… but she did.
I was losing my wife. I couldn’t stand still, so I confronted her. Although I didn’t mean it to end up that way, soon a strong argument had taken shape. All I wanted was to put some sense in Irene’s head but it was pointless.
“Dwayne always dreamed of having a son,” Irene said at a given moment.
One single sentence was enough to unleash all my fury. Who cares about his dreams or desires? Irene was my wife, not his. After a while, it was all about unloading my frustration.
“Do you think that he loves you? Do you think that he cares for you, as I do?” I viciously said. “You’re just a prize to him, a white slut with whom he can have fun and brag to his friends later. Is that what you want to be for the rest of your life? A slut who gets pregnant by a black guy she hardly knows?”
Irene still tried to contain herself but I could see hate in her eyes, “I never wanted to be in bed with him. You’re the one who was obsessed by it.”
“I never asked you to get pregnant. I never asked you to take his filthy cum. You did it because you wanted to, because you’re a slut!”
All the anger and frustration I had repressed since I had learned my wife was pregnant was finally coming out. It felt good. My words were hurting her, humiliating her as she had done to me. I could see it in her eyes.
For a moment, I thought my wife was going to cry, but she was much stronger than that.
“That’s right. I’m a slut. I love my black boyfriend and his big black cock. Did I ever tell you how big he is? It’s huge! He can brag to whomever he wants because I’m his,” Irene challenged me. Her voice was low, almost a whisper. Her tone was provocative. If it weren’t for the hatred in her eyes, I could almost think that she was trying to arouse me. Her reasoning was increasingly vicious and hurtful, “I’m his since the first moment he touched me. Take a good look at yourself… at your little dick. Did you really think you could compete with him?”
I wanted to fight back, but all I could do was insult her, “Fucking cunt!”
Irene didn’t stop, “Now I’m pregnant… his child. It takes a real man to knock up a woman. I’m so proud for carrying his baby.”
Irene touched her belly, a genuinely gentle and loving gesture in the middle of so much hatred. Her mouth opened, as if she was going to continue her speech, but her mind changed. There had been enough abuse already. Then she left and I didn’t see her for the rest of the day. The following day, when I got home, I found her there, waiting for me with her bags packed.
“Dwayne asked me to move in with him,” Irene simply said.
There wasn’t any hate or anger in either of us, only sorrow. I wanted to tell her to stay, but my pride was too strong to allow me to ask.
For months, my fantasy had granted both of us pleasure and fun but it had derailed. Had it all been an illusion and a big mistake? Now that she was pregnant by her lover, he would be a lasting presence in her life forever.
Irene left and I knew it was for good. I felt devastated.
Irene was gone. After sharing my life with her for more than twelve years, I didn’t know what to do. All I knew is that I still loved my wife and I missed her. I convinced myself that the best way to deal with my wounds would be to let her go and move on. So, from then on, I tried to avoid anything that could remind me of Irene. Still, it was only a matter of time until I would meet her again…
One day, I was walking on the street when I saw her from afar. I should have immediately turned my back from her and gotten out of there before she could see me. Instead, I sought a hiding place, from which I could safely observe her. No matter how much it could hurt me, I wanted to see her and know how she was doing.
Irene was beautiful… more beautiful than ever. As mild and predictable as they could be, the changes on her reminded me that her life had also moved on after our break-up. Her lovely red hair was longer and she was wearing a long, maternity dress. Underneath, Irene exhibited a huge and proud pregnancy belly, very close to giving birth. She looked like a mom, a happy mom, and I wished that baby could be mine. In fact, for a moment, I felt as if she was still my wife. But then, out of nowhere came her black companion to meet her, thus breaking my spell.
They held hands and continued their path side by side. Apparently, there was nothing in common between them, but both their postures demonstrated fulfillment and satisfaction for being with each other. Irene grabbed his muscled arm, a possessive gesture, as if she didn’t want to leave any doubt to the passersby that they were together and her baby was his. The black guy was younger, bigger and stronger than me. He was more physically fit to protect Irene and satisfy her needs. No wonder my wife preferred him over me.
After following them for a few seconds, I walked away resigned to the knowledge that Irene belonged to another man now.
Only one last step was necessary to close this chapter of my life: the divorce. Many times, I thought about it, however, I didn’t go through with it. Maybe some part of me wished to maintain one last, faint glimmer of hope. Occasionally, I imagined Irene knocking on my door with the divorce papers in her hand. At these moments, I wished never to see her again. Anyway, I would give her the divorce if she wished, but I wasn’t contacted by her or by anyone on her behalf.
For months I tried to deal with my wounds. It was hard, in the beginning, but time heals everything and soon Irene became a memory.
One day, at the supermarket, an attractive blonde woman approached me. Her name was Bea, one of those acquaintances from my past that I avoided ever since Irene and I had broken up. Bea took the initiative to come talk with me. The first contact was pleasant, so I didn’t push her away. After shopping, we went for a coffee together and this led to another meeting the next day. Bea kept showing interest in being with me and we became much closer than we had ever been before.
At this point of my life, all I sought was peace and quiet, exactly the opposite of what Bea could give to me. Bea was a married woman with two children. But most importantly, she was Irene’s boss and a good friend of hers. If the plan was to stay away from anyone who could remind me of Irene, hooking up with Bea was a bad idea.
Anyway, it felt good to receive the attention of that woman, whom I had always felt physically attracted to. My confidence with her grew. One day, I tried to kiss her and she didn’t reject me. It seemed like that Bea wanted me as much as I wanted her. With her, I remembered the pleasure and the thrill of flirting and seducing a woman other than my wife. The more often I spent time with Bea, the more distant and forgettable my past seemed to be. Soon, I would know her body, her skin, her moans… Although our relationship had no future, Bea was slowly becoming part of my life.
Then, one day, someone knocked on my door. It was Irene.
Only one reason seemed plausible for Irene’s presence in her former house: the dreaded divorce. I searched for the infamous papers in her hands or a suitable briefcase, but she wasn’t carrying any.
“I just wanted to know how you were doing,” Irene simply said. “Can I come in?”
I welcomed her in and we chatted. Just like the day she left our house, there wasn’t anger or bad words.
We were both behaving as if the person before us was only a vague acquaintance. There was an invisible barrier between us. I hadn’t seen her for eighteen months, but it felt like eighteen years.
The signs of her pregnancy were completely gone and she seemed in great shape. Irene looked like a different woman. Her red hair was longer than ever and she kept it loose and smooth, which made her appear much younger. The skirt was short and daring. Although I knew Irene’s body very well, when she sat in front of me and crossed her legs, it was hard not to stare at them. Her make-up was less conservative and more refined, without masking her natural beauty.
The blossoming I had been witnessing before our break up was complete. Irene had become a gorgeous woman, unattainable for the common mortal. Underneath those clothes and self-confidence, there was still the same body I had known for years. But now it seemed much more alluring and desirable than ever before, entirely out of my reach.
We both talked about our recent lives and, slowly, the ice began to melt. Irene spoke about her new role as a mother, conveniently avoiding any mention of Dwayne or any other awkward subject. No matter how much time had passed or how different she looked on the outside, I could still see the woman with whom I had fallen in love in the tender way she talked about her child or in the way she smiled.
Irene also wanted to hear news about me. I couldn’t tell her about Bea, even if I wanted to, although that was the most exciting thing that had happened to me since our break up, but, surprisingly, she seemed to already know about it.
After circling around the subject for a while, Irene bluntly said, “So… you have been seeing Bea…”
For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Was she trying to confirm a suspicion or did she know the facts? Bea was a married woman and I didn’t want to put her in a difficult spot. Noticing my discomfort, Irene added, “She told me… We confide this stuff to each other.”
Irene and Bea had always been good friends. But it seemed unbelievable to me that Bea would share this kind of information with her friend.
“She asked my permission… to see you,” Irene continued as if it served as a justification for her knowledge.
“What did you answer?” I dared to ask.
“I said no… I told her you were mine,” she outrageously said. For a moment, we kept silent, staring at each other. Then, Irene’s expression opened in a big smile and the gravity of her words was lost in a friendly laughter. “I was joking… I didn’t say that to her, obviously. I’m sorry,” she added.
It was probably just a small joke to break the ice between us, but I couldn’t help myself from thinking that, maybe, she really meant it. Maybe she was feeling jealous of Bea… Maybe she wanted me back…
Irene didn’t disclose her hidden intentions, if there were any. For all purposes, she only wanted to know how I was doing. However, her visits didn’t stop with that first one. In fact, it quickly became a regular routine for Irene to visit me at our former marital home. Rapidly, my recent interest in Bea faded away and Irene reentered my life. Although we weren’t back together, I began seeing her as my wife again.
Then, one day, Irene casually said, “Dwayne and I don’t live together anymore… and we haven’t for quite some time.” It was the first time she had mentioned him in our conversations.
I excitedly welcomed the news but concealed it from Irene. Instead, I subtly tried to explore more, “So… you broke up…”
“We still see each other… often,” Irene clarified.
How could I have thought otherwise? Dwayne was the father of Irene’s child. Anyway, despite the dismay and jealousy caused by her last words, I couldn’t help myself from feeling a new hope. Irene had reentered my life out of her own initiative and, maybe, this could be the start of a new beginning for us.
My enthusiasm had its ups and downs. There were times when I felt that Irene was trying to resume our marriage. However, whenever I tried to take our proximity one step closer, she always stopped me and made me feel as a friend; a good friend, but only a friend though. The seemingly duplicity of her behavior was torturous. This gorgeous teaser was playing with me. Irene was both familiar and unknown; she was simultaneously my wife and the woman I had never had.
I desired her more than anything, so, one day, I tried to kiss her. Irene allowed my approach and our lips touched for a brief moment. But then she took a small step backwards and her hand, against my chest, prevented me from following her.
“Do you still fantasize about me and other men?” she surprisingly asked.
Irene’s question caught me off guard.
“Now, I do… Again,” I cautiously replied. I had never had these fantasies about Bea, during our short lived relationship. Only Irene, my wife, could awaken this desire in me and make me feel this way.
Irene’s question could have been just a test. After my answer, she could have knocked down the door on her way out and left my life for good, knowing that I hadn’t learned my lesson. This would make sense…
Indeed, Irene would leave in a minute. But before she left, she smiled at me and asked, “Do you want to go out with me this Friday night?”
An emotional flood of excitement and happiness overwhelmed me after hearing her words.
“Yes,” I instantly replied.
Irene noticed my happiness, for sure. Her last words encouraged me even further, “I have missed you…”
Irene picked the restaurant. Much to my surprise, it was the same place where my wife and her lover had been on their first date. Although I had never told her that I had spied on them that evening, Irene’s choice didn’t seem innocent. Maybe she knew that I had been there before…
Irene was gorgeous with a short and youthful pencil skirt. When I first saw her wearing it, I fell in love with her all over again.
After a few weeks of advances and setbacks, Irene was no longer treating me like a friend, although we weren’t behaving as husband and wife either. There was romance in the air, something natural and fresh. Irene was flirting with me and using her sex appeal and lovely personality to conquer me back. I gladly let myself sail in the ocean of her charms.
At one point, our hands touched and I realized that Irene was wearing our wedding ring. Maybe she had never stopped wearing it and I had just realized it. But seeing that precious band around her finger seemed like a good omen. Irene noticed my reaction, I was sure of it. She didn’t say anything, but the affection evident in her tender eyes warmed me inside.
Later, my hopefulness grew, when Irene invited me to her apartment.
“What about your baby?” I nervously asked realizing that I was touching an uncomfortable subject.
“Don’t worry… It’s all taken care off for this night,” Irene replied. Only later I would realize the full meaning of these words.
The apartment had been rented just for Irene and her child. It was comforting to see that there was no sign of her black companion ever having been there. The farther away she was from him, the more confident I felt about having my wife back.
Irene led me by hand to her bedroom. A few seconds later, we were kissing passionately on the bed, physically resuming our marriage. I was lying on my back and she had climbed on top of me. It had been hard to notice the stunning woman that Irene had become and not be able to touch or feel her anymore. When she guided my hands to her lustful thighs, it felt too good to be true. When she seductively took off her clothes and I saw a sexy black bra cupping her breasts, it felt like a dream. I couldn’t believe I was in bed with such a gorgeous woman.
Everything had been flowing naturally and lightly, obeying no predetermined script… But my wife had made additional plans for that night.
Irene was opening my pants when, suddenly, I heard noise coming from inside the apartment. A few seconds later, I noticed that someone was at the entrance of our room.
My wife quickly assured me, “Relax… He is my guest tonight.”
Before my mind could focus on the intruder, Irene had resumed her hot kisses and we kept making out before this disquieting presence who silently observed us from a few feet away. I didn’t need to be told who that person was. Until that moment, I had thought that this was supposed to be a romantic night between two reconciled married people. But Irene’s plan also included the man by whom she had gotten pregnant; the man that had taken her from me.
This time, I wasn’t spying from afar or hiding behind a door. My cuckold condition was exposed for my wife’s boyfriend to see. At least, I could feel Irene’s body brushing against mine, smell the perfume on her skin and feel her soft hand touching my hard-on inside my clothes.
For a while, I had my wife’s attention concentrated entirely on me, despite the other man’s presence. For once I knew the feeling of being observed by a third party. Irene lowered my pants and underwear, and caressed my penis before her lover. It was so easy to let myself go with her wishes…
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” she whispered to me approving of my condition. Irene had me pinned under her body and my hands hadn’t moved away from her legs, as if I were too bewildered by this situation or too afraid of letting her go. Then, while she stretched her arm towards him, Irene called, “Dwayne…”
The black man approached the bed, an uncomfortable and unwanted presence for me. There were no words between us. Any attempt to speak in that moment would be awkward and ridiculous. We were both there for Irene, period. Without being asked, the black man began taking off his pants right in front of her. My eyes took refuge in my wife, who watched her black lover undressing. After a few seconds, she looked at me and our eyes met. My wife was silently communicating that it was time for her to leave me for him.
Irene knelt on the bed before the black man. All the regret and disappointment I had felt, due to his presence there, disappeared the moment she began unbuttoning his shirt and her hands touched his muscled chest. My wife paused and stared at his naked torso for a couple of seconds. Irene was a goddess, powerful and desirable beyond measure, but, in that moment, she was the one who seemed to be worshipping his body. Then, Irene kissed his chest. It was both tender and lustful. I could feel the affection she had for him in the air. An old, familiar feeling called jealousy dominated me and I felt as if something had just been broken inside me. Despite the pain, I didn’t wish Irene to stop. At least for one more night, she was still my wife, and I desired to see her being taken in the way she deserved.
Still lying in the bed, half naked, I felt bound by the sight of my wife’s actions. I didn’t dare to move, afraid that any movement from my part could be misinterpreted.
Irene looked back at me and took my hand. Guided by her will, I left the bed and stood up next to her black lover. Irene sat on the bed between us. My gaze took shelter in her face. I didn’t know how to act or where to look. It felt so much safer to simply do what Irene wished me to do. My stare didn’t leave my wife even when, from the corner of my eye, I sensed her pulling down her boyfriend’s underwear. Then, her right hand took hold of my penis and her touch felt desperately good.
Irene looked upwards right in my eyes but said nothing. Instead, I witnessed her gaze moving to my crotch firstly and then to the crotch of the other man. Then, she looked back at me. I knew what my wife desired, so I mimicked her behavior. I looked down at my crotch and then to the huge cock next to me.
My erect penis was as hard as it could be, the proof of the arousing effect that seeing my wife touch another man had on me. I already knew that it was small. But when I looked to my right, this smallness seemed to attain a new dimension. Irene was holding her boyfriend’s black cock with her left hand. It was mostly flaccid still, but his manhood already greatly surpassed the size of my full hard-on. I felt like a small boy before a man. My inadequacy felt like an open invitation for the black man to take my wife at his will. I couldn’t compete with him.
Irene took my hand and invited me to sit next to her on the bed. Once again, I obeyed her hoping to observe my wife touching her black lover from a closer position, although this lower position made me feel awkward and embarrassed due to the fact that his cock hung right in front of my eyes.
“So big…” Irene whispered. Despite the uncomfortable position, Irene’s warm words forced me to stare at her boyfriend’s manhood. From this perspective, it looked even thicker and more impressive, one proud piece of cockmeat. The skin was dark brown, with the exception of the pinkish tone of his huge glans peeking from the inside of his foreskin, and his pubic hair was trimmed short.
“A real man’s cock,” Irene whispered in my ear. The apparent harshness of her words clashed with the warm and caring tone of her voice. Then, her lips brushed my ear and she added, “But I still love you.” Irene was still my wife, both on paper and in her heart. A wave of excitement and happiness lifted my spirit. Soon, that big black cock would be inside of my wife but I would still know that she hadn’t forgotten our love.
My heart beat fast. I was drunk from so much happiness and arousal, and from so much pain and jealousy. Irene licked her lips and I wished her to handle her boyfriend’s cock as soon as possible. The situation was overwhelming, much more intense than I had anticipated in my wildest fantasies. However, my wife wasn’t content and she wished to feed the insanity even more.
With clear shock, I heard Irene whispering to me, “Touch it.” I knew perfectly well what she meant with those two words, but I chose to disregard it as a vain challenge from a teaser. However, Irene didn’t stop there. “Touch it, please,” she insisted. How could she be asking me to do this?
My wife had to know that I would never do such a thing of my own volition. She had to know I didn’t want to touch his cock. Anyway, Irene gently took my hand with the clear purpose to lead it to her intended destination.
“Feel it, like I felt it once… The touch of a real man’s cock for the first time,” she whispered though. I could have stopped her… However, at that moment, confused by the sensual voice of that gorgeous woman, I truthfully desired to know how it felt like to touch that giant piece of cockmeat. I wanted to know what Irene had felt that evening in the parking lot, when she touched her lover’s manhood for the first time.
So, I let my hand be guided to the soft dark skin. My fingers enveloped his shaft and I instantly felt it getting stiffer. Then, Irene’s palm covered mine and instructed my hand to move. “Pump my boyfriend’s cock stiff and hard for me,” my wife encouraged softly. As the foreskin of that uncut cock was being pulled, slowly, his giant and shining glans became exposed. Then, Irene released my hand and I continued the intended motion on my own. She reached for his huge ball sac, too big and full for her small hand to envelop, and caressed her lover.
My hand had a will of its own, but the rest of my body was tense. The last thing I desired was to face Irene or the man whose cock I was stimulating. He had already taken so much from me in the past. At that moment, my submission was empowering him even more, enhancing his masculinity before Irene’s eyes. Through my action, I was admitting my inferiority to my wife’s boyfriend. He was the man there. Only he was good enough to please a woman like Irene.
My head was down but my eyes were set on the big tool I was holding. Under those circumstances it seemed like the only place fit for me to look. With each stroke of my hand, the hard-on became greater and greater, forcing the member to become proudly erect. I couldn’t help admiring and envying that powerful piece of black meat.
“I’m so horny… I can’t wait to take that big cock deep inside of me,” Irene softly said to me.
Finally, I overcame my embarrassment and looked at my wife. Irene smiled at me and I felt her love and excitement. Somehow, that moment seemed only ours, as if we were the only people present in the room. All of a sudden, just by looking at my wife’s beautiful and tender face, holding another man’s cock didn’t seem so dramatic.
After a few seconds, Irene’s smile opened wider and it seemed to carry some encrypted message. My wife left the bed. When she knelt on the floor before her black lover, I felt a strong arousing discharge in my body. I desperately anticipated the moment Irene would take over the action and become the star of the show. However, I can’t deny that, after what had happened before, I feared my wife’s plans. When Irene asked me to join her and kneel on the floor, I knew that my fears were justified.
Still, despite my concealed distress, I did as my wife asked of me. Once again, I was submitting to Irene’s hung lover when I knelt before his erection.
“I want to see you touch him… with your lips,” Irene whispered. I looked at her in shock. My eyes were saying no but Irene insisted, “I promise… it feels great.”
I didn’t want to feel great. I didn’t want to do it. All I wanted was to be with my wife again. For a moment, I felt a rebellion taking form inside of me. Wasn’t it enough that he could take my wife whenever he wished? Hadn’t it been enough to see my wife pregnant with his child? He already had so much. How could Irene love me and use me like this?
“No,” I murmured in a desperate tone. My eyes were begging her to drop the outrageous idea.
“It’s too late to be ashamed,” Irene teased me. I realized that I shouldn’t have gone so far to please my wife. Irene approached her mouth to my ear and softly said, “You already pumped him hard… This will be our secret.” As if her words weren’t enough, her hand held my penis and she slowly began to stroke it. “Do it for me. I want to watch… Suck his hard cock for me,” she insisted in the same tone. “You will love the feeling… like I do.”
I was desperately looking for a way out of that situation. The sound of her voice on my ear was both enchanting and torturous. I had to make a stand, didn’t I? But what if I stopped fighting? What if I just gave up? All I had to do was stop worrying and take comfort that I was only doing as my wife desired.
I looked at Irene one more time. This time, I was begging her for help to overcome the last barrier of reluctance, so that all the pain could stop. Instead, Irene caressed the hair in the back of my head and gently encouraged me to take that fateful, unfathomable action; there, on my knees, she urged me towards her lover’s erect cock.
“Lick your lips,” my wife instructed. “Feel how smooth he feels.”
My right hand secured the black cock and I licked my lips. A strong manly scent invaded my nostrils when I purposely avoided his glans and touched the hard shaft with my mouth. Just like Irene had said, the skin was soft, almost silky. I had never realized before how smooth a hard cock could be.
“Feel his big head…” Irene encouraged.
I obeyed my wife and turned my attention to the huge glans. It was impressive how sensitive such a powerful and muscled tool could feel against my own lips. Moved by some curiosity, I dared to touch the silky head with the tip of my tongue. Irene reacted with visible pleasure, “That’s it… Don’t think, just let yourself go…”
I could feel the weight of Irene’s eyes upon me and the approval in her words and excited breath. After the initial impact, the manly scent didn’t feel as strong and strange anymore and, somehow, it was adding an arousing new dimension to the situation.
Irene put in words what I didn’t dare to think, “It tastes like man…”
My tongue left my mouth, increasing the contact with his cockhead and I timidly explored the sensitive area. Now that my resistance had been conquered, my wife’s requests seemed oddly easy to accomplish.
“Go on… Open your mouth,” Irene continued.
As commanded, I opened my mouth and let the huge glans slid inside slowly. The black man released a pleased moan. This unexpected sound broke my spell, and I remembered that my actions were being done to a man.
Irene also reacted to the moment and she softly teased me, “How does it feel to have your mouth full?”
The huge cock slid backwards and I hesitated to proceed. I couldn’t believe I had a black cock in my mouth. I couldn’t believe I was willingly giving head to another man. How did my wife lead me to this?
“It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?” Irene continued in the same tone, as her hand in my crotch regained life and stimulated me. “You know what you have to do. Please him… make my black stud feel good. Do it with pride.”
I shockingly realized that I wanted to proceed. I wanted to keep sucking on that big black piece of cockmeat. But I wanted to do it for my wife and not for another man’s pleasure. I desperately desired there could be a way of doing it without his presence…
“I’m so horny,” Irene whispered, “Suck Dwayne’s big cock.”
I never imagined myself giving a blowjob… But the damage had already been done and Irene’s presence and evident excitement was enough to conquer all my doubts and distress. So I embraced my destiny as a cocksucker. I took Dwayne’s manhood inside of me and I used my hand and all my mouth to worship it. My lips, my tongue, the inside of my mouth and my saliva all became tools in the service of that big black cock for a while.
Irene’s warm whispers kept encouraging me to continue. The gentle stroking of her hand in my crotch felt great and kept reassuring me of her intents. But this enjoyment also carried a good volume of guilt. It felt wrong to feel good when I was pleasuring another man.
Suddenly, I felt a salty fluid unexpectedly coming from the big cock into my mouth. The limited portion of pre-cum first touched my tongue, but then its taste spread to every corner, until all my mouth was tainted by this manly fluid.
At this point, Irene stopped me. I don’t know if she had read it in my expression, but when her lips touched mine I realized that she already knew how I would taste. Then, my wife’s tongue invaded my mouth and she kissed me with eagerness. When contact was finally broken, Irene whispered in my ear, “I’ll never forget this moment. From now on, whenever I kiss you, I’ll always remember Dwayne’s cock.”
How could she say such things to me? Irene’s words were outrageous but also a powerful aphrodisiac. After overcoming the initial shock, I just smiled. I smiled at my wife, because her words had betrayed that she intended to kiss me many more times in the future.
“Now, finish off your man,” my wife commanded.
Despite her provoking words, I focused my attention back on the big cock and resumed the blowjob. This time, Irene’s hand joined mine and she increased the stimulating pace on the black cock.
“You’re so good at it,” she said, an embarrassing encouragement. “Look at your lover’s face.”
Irene wanted me to look upwards at the black man. A new wave of reluctance prevented me from doing as she wished. Despite what I had already done that night, this seemed to take these outrageous acts one step further than I could voluntarily proceed.
“Look at his eyes while you have his cock in your mouth,” Irene insisted. Despite my reluctance, I once again succumbed to my wife’s wishes. With his black cock buried in my mouth, I awkwardly looked upwards and rediscovered the face of the man I was giving head to. “You’re his now,” Irene added.
By looking at him, I was acknowledging his presence. His name sounded inside of my mind: Dwayne
When my eyes met his, I saw in him an undisputed superiority. In that moment, I didn’t felt like a man. In his mind, my wife and I were two promiscuous white sluts who couldn’t get enough of black cock. And in that moment I had to agree with his conclusion. I realized that this was how I would feel in the future, if I ever met him again.
“Oh yeah… that feels good…” the black man said as he focused his stare on my wife.
I closed my eyes and my attention went back exclusively to the huge member. Just like Irene had asked of me earlier, I felt myself proud, a guilty pride, for being able to handle such an amazing cock; a remarkable specimen, worthy of my submission.
“I don’t have to see Dwayne alone anymore. Now, we can both pleasure him… together… as a couple,” Irene said, this time out loud, maybe sensing my ultimate surrender.
Dwayne moaned again and I knew he was almost cumming. His hand secured my head in place, assuring his cock wouldn’t slip out of my mouth at the moment of his release. I guess I could have freed myself, but I hesitated.
Irene encouraged me, “Let him cum in your mouth.”
Again I felt myself wronged. It wasn’t fair. I had never lived the experience of having my wife taking my cum in her mouth, yet she desired me to do it for her black lover.
Anyway, my hand’s pace increased and I waited with my eyes closed.
“Oh fuck…” the manly voice said along with an intense moan.
A powerful shot of sperm hit the back of my throat, forcing me to open my eyes wide. I couldn’t believe a man was ejaculating in my mouth. How could I ever live with it?
“Swallow,” Irene whispered in my ear, long before he had finished.
Shot after shot, his massive balls filled me with their thick semen. When I felt it was over, I released the powerful member and swallowed the sperm as my wife suggested. While sliding off my mouth, his huge glans brushed in my lips and chin, leaving one last trace of his sperm. Irene didn’t seem to hesitate. She leaned over me and licked the remnants of his semen from my face. At the same time, the speed of her hand in my crotch increased insanely, driving me to orgasm in a matter of seconds. Her boyfriend was already in the bed, enjoying the lasting effects of his climax, when my cum fell wasted on the floor where he had been standing. On the other hand, the black man’s fluids were in my mouth, in my throat, in my stomach and soon would reach my blood and spread all over my body, changing me and becoming part of me.
“It’s my turn,” my wife said.
All my excitement emptied me after the orgasm. My wife had aroused me to do the unthinkable and only now I felt capable of understanding the obvious consequences. How could she ever love and respect her husband, after witnessing me sucking another man’s cock and swallowing his seed? I was only a sex toy, a means to an end. When Irene climbed on top of her black lover, she didn’t seem to know that I existed anymore.
I grabbed my pants and underwear. Maybe it was best for me to leave. My presence there seemed pointless. Embarrassed, I couldn’t even look at them. While I was composing myself, I imagined myself leaving that room, that apartment, without them even noticing my absence. I imagined myself having to face the people outside, too ashamed and afraid that someone could read in my sore jaw or in my sperm-breath the signs of my humiliation. It would be my personal walk of shame. Then I imagined myself sleeping in my bed, alone, once again.
Fortunately, Irene had other plans for me. When my wife noticed me getting dressed, she asked, “What are you doing?” I didn’t answer. Instead, I approached her and she invited me to be in the bed next to her, “Come here.”
My wife’s bra and panties were gone. She was naked on top of her lover. There was an evident contrast between their bodies: his blackness against her light skin; his huge hands grabbing her small waist; her fragile body yielding to his prominent muscles. The black man’s cock was hard again. Not even the lewd movements of my wife’s pussy rubbing on her boyfriend’s shaft seemed capable of waking my small, flaccid cock from its embarrassing slumber.
When Irene guided the hard cock to her entrance and he pushed it in, I saw the same overwhelmed expression in her face I had witnessed on the day I had spied on them from behind a door. The big black cock quickly disappeared inside my wife, with amazing ease. The black man rose to his feet, lifting my wife by her thighs in the process, without exiting her pussy, and pinned her against the nearest naked wall. Irene’s body shook due to the cold surface against her back. Then, he fucked her there. The movements of his waist advertised that he was slowly driving his cock deep. At the same time, there was a peace of mind in Irene’s countenance. Her stare was set on me. Dwayne’s cock was buried inside of her, but I felt her eyes making love with me.
These hypnotic movements seemed to last forever. Dwayne was patient and tireless. Irene’s weight was insignificant to his strong arms.
When they were both ready, my wife’s lover took her back to the bed. I watched him tease her and, without shame, Irene begged for his black cock. Then, he fucked her hard, and she accepted his raw enthusiasm with delight.
The black man was using my wife’s body and she was enjoying being used. The more he manhandled her, the more Irene liked the treatment. My earlier guilt and dismay vanished. I was mesmerized by the lewd excitement of my wife as she was being taken by her black stud. I felt good for her. I felt proud of her. This was the woman I had always desired Irene to become.
My wife came once. The black man diminished the intensity of his thrusts, but he didn’t stop. He just kept fucking her, since her body was entirely at his disposal. New signs of pleasure began to show in Irene’s countenance and, after a long while of wild pleasure, she came a second time.
As her pleasure continued, he put my wife on all fours. Irene obeyed to him gladly. But, while I was expecting him to keep pounding her, she now took control. Irene’s body began to sway, forward and backwards, along the big black pole. He didn’t have to do anything; it was as if she were fucking him. My wife still had the strength to guide her lover to ecstasy on her own. These soft and bewitching movements were enough to lead any man to madness. I admired her stamina. I worshipped her boldness.
Dwayne didn’t even bother to take his cock out of my wife. He just shot his load inside of her, as I am sure he was used to doing. Then, he collapsed on top of my Irene and she gently embraced him. After such a display of sensuality, I envied that man. I wished I could be the one who was in her arms.
After my wife and her lover were done, I feared for a moment of awkwardness. Much to my surprise, Dwayne got dressed and left. Just like that. Still, before his departure, Irene affectionately kissed him goodbye. Once again, I realized that he would never leave my wife’s life.
After he was gone, Irene came back to me and we cuddled in the bed. The memories of my earlier deeds came back to haunt me but she seemed calm and peaceful. We stayed like this for a while, until my wife decided to break the silence.
First, Irene giggled and then she said, “I can’t believe you sucked Dwayne’s cock.”
My wife seemed like one of those kids who dares us to do something stupid and, when we do it, then mocks us. I wished there could be a nearby hole into which I could crawl. My wife would never forget what I had done that night.
Irene still seemed calm, free from any drama. So I dared to ask, “Why?” I hoped she could understand what I meant, without forcing me to put into words what had happened before.
“I guess it began the day I first saw Dwayne’s cock,” Irene began. “I wished you were there with me… somehow. It grew. Somewhere along the path I started to imagine us sharing his big cock. This fantasy turned me on…”
I wasn’t convinced.
“Why would any woman fantasize about her husband…?” I hesitated for a moment. Then I continued, “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Why would any man fantasize about his wife having sex with another man?” Irene replied.
I opened my mouth to argue back, but then I realized what she meant.
“Why didn’t you say anything before? Why didn’t you ask me?” I insisted.
Again, Irene replied with an answer, “Would you have accepted it if I had asked you in advance?”
“You manipulated me…”
“Yes,” Irene answered and, at the same time, she caressed my face. Then she caringly added, “Just like you manipulated me before.”
Frank and his friend James arrive at the fitness club to work out together. As we start to working out, James begins to tell me a secret I couldn’t believe. He says him and his wife Wendy are secretly living a swinger lifestyle for the last two years. And that it’s mostly with black men.
Really, black men??
Yes black men Frank, it’s very satisfying to her and what a site it is.
Wendy is a fitness model and super beautiful, so thinking of her having sex with big black men was great for the imagination.
Frank they give Wendy something I can’t, but the love is still there and it’s just all about sex. You and Erin should try it sometime to spice up your sex life. Oh no James, there is no way Erin will be ok to do something like that.
I thought to myself of how I fantasized of my wife with other men, but I never brought it up to her. When we go on vacation many men give her the eye, as she’s also is a looker and has that Hotwife look that men of any age desire.
That evening we went to an awards presentation for my company and Erin was dressed to impress in a very revealing sexy black dress showing a lot of her sexy legs. I was still thinking about what James told me about and looking at my sexy wife that night I started to like more the idea of her with other men.
We had a good time and had dinner and drinks before the event was over. Erin had drank more alcohol then she was used to and on the way to the car I noticed she was actually drunk and needed help to get in the car. We drove home and avoided check points since I was sure that I was over the limit myself and wanted to avoid the authorities. This took is into a bad neighborhood with very seedy porn shops and lots of prostitutes on the street. Then all of sudden I hear a loud BOOM and the car comes to a complete stop. Seems like the timing belt had busted and I had to pull over to the nearest parking lot.
What happened hunny? Erin says.
Looks like the car has broke down and I have to call James to pick us up and deal with this in the morning.
I then noticed we were in the parking lot of an adult theater that was about half full and also noticed two black men walking in the entrance. All those dirty thoughts of my wife with other men combined with James confession of Wendy gave me really bad idea.
Erin I’m going to have to call James from inside this theater as my cell phone is dead, which was a lie. My wife was still drunk and looked so hot in that dress, that I wanted her to walk in there and see how all these horny men in there would react to her. After that go home and have wild sex with her.
Obviously I was naive to what goes on in there, and what happens when couples like us walk in there. Babe you should come inside with me, this area is not safe to leave you alone here in the car.
As we walk in we see many men walking around, some at the porn shop some walking in to the main theater. We notice that we are the only couple and now men started to notice our entrance. My wife is very sexy and it almost seems like a shock to them that our type was visiting this seedy adult theater.
Oh my God Frank, this is a porn theater!! As my drunk wife finally realizes were we are.
Yes babe, I wanted you to come inside for them to see how sexy a wife I have, it really turns me on when men lust over you.
She looked over to me in shock and said, I never knew you had these feelings about how other men saw me. I can always tell when a man is attracted to me, but I would never share that with you.
Like who? As we walked over to the porn movie rental section inside the theater.
I don’t know if I should tell you, but your friend James is the worst.
Naturally I started to laugh and Erin looked confused.
I’ll tell you about him later.
When we reached the porn movies I noticed every man there was responding to her presence with smiles, whispers and stares. This shockingly started to give me a boner and I couldn’t control it, as they lusted on my classy sexy Hotwife Erin began to notice this and scanned the room with some fear and amazement at the attention she was getting. Then she reached eye contact with these two huge black men, but their stares were a lot different. They were looking at her more like they were already fucking her. Frank also noticed this and decided it was a good time to tell her James and Wendy’s secret.
He grabbed Erin’s arm and took her over to the interracial section in the porn shop and looked back at the two black men with a curios look to see what they would do. Erin was mesmerized by the size of the black porn stars cocks in the covers of the porn DVD’s. She then noticed that her husband was sporting a hard on and you could easily see the bulge on his pants. That’s when he told her of their friends secret swinger lifestyle and how it also was a turn on for him to think of her having sex with black men. While they talked about this, the two black men were now on the next aisle and were staring at her sexy body and her perfect long legs and she was also wearing these very revealing heels showing her nice long sexy toes. Both turned around at the same time to catch the two men staring at her and then turned away quickly in shock and fear.
Erin then said, Oh shit, are they coming over here?
Obviously babe they are extremely attracted to you and then Frank grabbed his wife’s dress and lifted it up to feel her crotch and discovered how wet and soaked her panties had become.
Damn babe! You love this!!
Erin then said, yes, I like the way they looked at me, like if they want to fuck me right here right now.
Right when I was going to tell her that when we get home we should have wild sex and fantasize of them fucking her, the two men reached the interracial section and where right behind us.
When one of them said, is your lady free game sir?
Erin didn’t look back but froze in shock.
I turned around and ask, excuse me?
Meanwhile her dress was not completely down from my crotch examination I had just finished doing, and they were just staring at her ass and not looking at me in the eye.
They ignored my question and asked, hey lady you are fucking gorgeous! Erin turned around and pulled down her dress shaking in what I thought was fear, but these two men knew it was because she was turned on by the situation.
Erin said, Thank you and was shaking while she said this to them. Then Erin shocked me and them by reaching over and grabbing what was now a pre-cum raging boner in my pants. Seemed that the huge BBC’s on the DVD covers had made her loss control, and know she had to willing horny black men right next her wanting to fuck her.
She started to jerk me off with my penis still in my pants, and said my husband just fantasies of me with black men.
That’s all I needed to hear and I started to cum in my pants right there!! Erin looked over at me while the black men started laughing, and said wow Frank you really like this.
As I regrouped I told them I needed to go clean up at the restroom, they stayed with her there to chat some more.
The two black men then asked if she ever had been with a black man and she said no. Well come with us to the theater so you can see it n screen. Well maybe I should wait for my husband to come back from the bathroom. Nah, he’ll find us, let’s go they are playing an interracial movie right now. Frank’s drunken wife then leaves with these two big black strangers alone to theater.
Frank finally finishes cleaning up and decided it’s time to call James so they can get a ride home so he can fuck his wife silly after what just happened. James started to laugh and then said; you guys need to get the fuck out of there!!
Any couples that walk in that theater are perceived to be swingers and they are going to try to fuck Erin if you don’t leave quickly.
Oh shit James!!
Erin is gone! Looks like she went alone with two black guys inside the theater!
Say what Frank?? Two black guys??
Frank I was just sharing our lifestyle, didn’t think you even liked what you heard.
Well I’ll tell you about that later, just get your ass over here and pick us up.
When he walked in to the theater it was really dark and he couldn’t find his wife as she wore a black dress that evening. Finally he found her and the two black guys were sitting on either side of her and they were already fondling her boobs as she looked in amazement at the interracial movie that was playing. The black man in the movie was huge!! At least looked like 11 inches as he devoured this sexy blonde deep in her pussy. I realized there was no way to stop this and decided to sit behind them to see how far my wife would let this go. My wife had no idea I sat behind them and it now seemed they were either rubbing her pussy or fingering her, as her head went back in ecstasy and her body movements showed she was being molested. I was so turned on by this, that I started to get hard again.
WTF are we doing here??
That damn timing belt busting placing me and my classy sexy white wife in a seedy adult theater and two complete strangers were molesting her in public view for any other men in the theater to see.
Then one of the black guys stood up and started to unbuckle his pants to pull out his cock and my first reaction was to get up and stop this! It was going too far!! But these dudes were huge and my wife just sat there with her head back and legs probably wide open for their enjoyment and she didn’t care. In fact she was in complete lust and had let herself go. Was she going to suck him off?? This was too much for me and I pulled out my cock and started to stroke it in anticipation on what she would do when she realized one of them wanted a bj from her. But it all happened differently. He just grabbed the back of her head as if he couldn’t resist this classy white beautiful wife there to be used. They probably never had a women like this before. He then forced his huge penis in her mouth without warning and started to pump her face. Her body jumped up in shock as she realized what he had done and she submissively continued to let him pump her face. She could barely take his BBC in her throat and started to make loud choking sounds that most of the men in the theater could hear. They started to notice that some real action was going on and almost like this was normal to them some got up and walked in our direction to see what was going on.
Then the other black guy got down between her legs to eat her pussy for her enjoyment, telling his friend, “I’m going to eat this sweet married pussy homie, she fuckin soaked!!”
That’s when the black guy getting sucked noticed I was sitting behind them and I was stroking at the shocking turn of events in our visit here. And he just smirked in amusement, as if to say, yeah I got my black dick in your sweet white wife’s mouth!! Erin now started to moan and looked down as he was doing a great job munching driving her to orgasm. She now could take a good look at his BBC and just stroked it and gazed in amazement at its size. She had never touched one that huge before as he was packing at least a good thick 9 inches!!
He looked over at me again and then just violently grabbed my horny drunk wife and turned her over on all fours on the seat, pulled her dress up and ripped her panties off violently. It was like he thought I better dip my BBC in this hot white bitch before this husband changes his mind and takes her away. I had no time to react!! She was now facing me but had her head down and still didn’t see I was sitting there the whole time watching this unfold. His friend by now was out of the way and he started to unbuckle his pants and now noticed me also and gave me a hard look, as if to say “Don’t fuck this up”
Then in one big thrust, he entered my wife’s tight pussy bareback and her head looked up in pain and shock were she caught eye with her husband with his dick in his hands masturbating at the incredible development. We looked in to each other’s eyes as he pounded her deep and hard. She moaned in pleasure and pain like she never had before. This caused all the men in theater to walk over and watch this in amazement finding this super hot classy lady getting slammed by BBC right in front of them. They were all either white or Asian men who apparently came here to see interracial porn and instead they get to see it live right in front of them.
What I didn’t know yet was that James had arrived and brought his sexy wife Wendy with him. They had been watching some of this and Wendy sneakily got on her knees and crawled towards me to surprise me and suck my cock. She popped up and said hey sweety!! And pulled my hand off my cock and started sucking.
WTF!! Who?….hey!..Is that you Wendy??
Yes Frank, I always wanted to corrupt you and laughed then kept sucking on my cock.
My wife could see this as she was getting fucked and now both of us had crossed the line, just because the car broke car down.
Wendy then jumped on top of me without warning and buried my cock in her warm pussy. She smelled and looked amazing and started to kiss me as she went up and down on my shaft.
Now the men watching were walking in very close to see the action and some already had their cocks out stroking their meat.
While Wendy and I continued fucking I heard this big kick and we both looked back and saw that the other black guy had kicked and broke the seat to then laid down my wife for his turn on her. Wendy and I looked in amazement as he laid her down missionary and quickly stabbed her with his long 10 inch penis and my wife screamed in pain as he pumped with no mercy deep in her tight white pussy. That’s when the other black guy jumped over to our row went over and sprayed his cum all over her pretty face. The sight of this and this totally hot women fucking me who was my friends wife made me bust a load deep in Wendy’s pussy as we kissed and hugged each other tightly. We both looked at each other in shock as we were such good friends for so many years, and here I had just pumped my seed deep inside her. The naughtiness of this act between us made me kiss her again passionately as Wendy was so hot and I had just fucked her. It was like I wanted to take advantage of this opportunity to enjoy her just a little bit more.
While we kissed passionately we didn’t notice the situation with my wife had got out of control. As we gathered ourselves and Wendy slipped her panties back up. We look over to see what was happening with my wife and to our shock all the men were lining up to cum on my wife’s face. Erin was lifeless laying there taking this huge BBC as her body was moving violently from his deep aggressive thrust and her beautiful face was glazed with strangers cum. Wendy noticed I was going to go get her but she stopped me and said, just let it go, there is no stopping this now, as this was all being encouraged by the black guy who had already finished enjoying my wife. Then James walked up and padded my back from the row behind us and said welcome to the club buddy, you and Erin are now swingers with this big grin on his face. I looked at him like he was crazy, this was way over board and wasn’t why I brought her in here, but I too had lost control.
Finally the black guy fucking Erin came in this last violent thrust and I realized that a stranger had seeded my wife!!!
He pulled out as if in triumph and yelled “Hell ya, that was some sweet tight white pussy” Then quickly zipped up and walked away and left her there while two other strangers were removing her dress completely to be able to cum on her white supple breast.
The next five minutes, stranger after stranger walked up and cummed on my wife. Some on her face, others one her breast and some even cummed on her beautiful feet while still in her heels. When they all got there turn to cum on her, one of the black men finally said, OK you can have her back hubby and don’t forget to bring her here again on Monday afternoon when they are playing interracial movies again. Me and Wendy help Erin get dressed and we used James jacket to wipe off the semen that was all over her body. As we quickly walked out of the theater, other men who had just arrived in the entrance stared at us in disappointment like they knew what they missed out on.
As they drove us home there was an uncomfortable silence, but James had a huge grin on his face the whole way. My wife just sat in the car looking out the window speechless not looking in my direction. I don’t know what was going through her mind, but I now regretted my decision to go in the theater even though I enjoyed watching her with those black guys. Right before they arrived at our house Wendy abruptly asks,
So Erin, would you ever do that again??
You will get her answer in part 2
Original story: Scipio
Chapter 15 C: Gift Wrap
Sharon padded naked through her bedroom, iPhone in hand, reviewing her progress on the list she had made of the things to do. She paused, clicking the ball of her tongue stud against the inside of her upper front teeth as she looked at the stack of packages in her closet. Redirecting her gaze to the fit middle aged woman staring back at her from the mirror, she examined the highlighted blonde hair, still short on the sides, though not the extreme cut she had been given her second trip ‘home’ after school had started. Her eyebrows were darker than they had been, as was the thin ‘vee’ of pubic hair pointed at her clit.
Without thinking about it, she reached down, running her finger over her prominent clit, the pressure generating a subtle but enjoyable pleasure that threatened to grow into a demanding distraction. She lifted her hands, examining the 1″ long nails that had been reapplied at least three times since they had first been glued onto her fingernails that same trip back… These were a deep burgundy, still red, which the BZ liked, but not the garish fire engine shade with which she had started. She eyed her legs, which she had shaved the night before, and wondered if the women at the mall could take care of them as easily as they had her mons and arm pits.
The jewelry was no longer a shock, even the ring with the BZ bead hanging from her left nipple. She liked the high piercing, and admitted that the navel ring– new after the BZ Christmas party– showed off how flat her tummy was. She doubted even Catherine was as close to a six pack, and turned, enjoying the definition of her musculature more than she would have admitted to anyone. She stuck her tongue out, surprised that it no longer hurt where the newest bar had been placed. Dinner Monday night had been a trial, but mostly because she had spent it trying to hide the new piercing, and pizza had not been the best choice for a meal; both she and Kelly had begged off, claiming to have had pizza too much studying for finals, and carefully working through breadsticks, instead. Sharon had difficulty remembering the last time she had eaten so many carbs… it had to have been her last trip home.
She had been relieved to learn Chris had his final urology appointment the next day, which had given her a reprieve from using the new jewelry, although he had noticed it that night at bedtime, and after initial shock, had, to Sharon’s amazement, been delighted at her willingness to ‘try new things,’ insisting that was how they would stay young, and keep their love life ‘fresh.’ She had giggled, admitting when Kelly had suggested she get it as a gift for him she had been puzzled, but adding that the way he had reacted during her last visit home, she had thought that he might like it.
Chris had interrupted any further explanation, assuring her he was confident the doctor would clear him, so they could go ahead, but she had successfully demurred, assuring him they had until after the New Year before she would be headed back to school, and honestly claiming fatigue, since she had barely slept the weekend leading to break.
The girls and Scott had done more shopping the next day, the pleasant banter and casual spending interrupted only by the demand of her buzzing clit, which had pushed Sharon into two separate women’s bathrooms where she could masturbate, wondering as she had done so if she was so totally adapted to having sex that she could somehow need it. That night, she had climbed onto the bed, hands outside of Chris’ thighs as he had watched her in adoring anticipation, his cock waving in the dimly lit bedroom at full erection. She had licked over his length, quickly getting used to the different pressure of the ball moving over his shaft, and delighted at how good a job such a little bauble could do at building a man to climax. She had barely begun to slurp at her husband in earnest, driving her mouth down fully, remembering to fake a gag, when he gasped that he was there, she had moaned, sucking more firmly as he had begun to cum.
When he had been spent, she had sat back, wiping her mouth, looking at him and biting his lip. Part of her wished he had one of the little blue pills he had tried over Thanksgiving break, even though she remembered what had happened to him because of it… And to her. The brush of memory of being taken by the hospital employees had made her clit twitch hard enough she had nearly moaned again. Chris was panting, smiling broadly and shaking his head as he stared down at her.
“Like I said,” she had frowned a bit, “Salty… but not too salty. I hope it doesn’t get in my tongue though…” her shudder had not been feigned, but Donnie had not warned her not to do anything… The way she remembered it, he would have happily had her fellate him immediately after if it had not been for the other customers. And Chris had been asleep by the, or moments later.
Her list still had ‘visit TP’ unchecked, but she was determined not to go back until later in the break… a gift for herself, she could admit with a pang of excitement. Considering her planned present to herself, Sharon reviewed the rest of her Christmas shopping; she had what she had planned to get for the kids, Chris, and Kelly, as well as Flora. Each of them, as well as her girlfriends, were getting sweatshirts or windbreakers or yoga pants with the school’s mascot, and she had picked up DVD’s and CD’s and some other fun things for her family without their finding out, even though they had all been using the Range Rover. No one had violated the others’ shopping bags, although Scott and Kelly had both threatened to peek in jest.
Frowning, Sharon wondered what her friends would say when they saw her new addition. She had been invited to coffee Tuesday morning, but had begged, off, agreeing they would get together during the next week, after Christmas. She had talked to Madolen, who had told her ‘everyone was looking forward to next week,’ which she had not understood, assuming that her friend had meant merely their various holiday plans. She had not pressed, confident they would fill her in the coming Tuesday.
The list also had ‘salve’ unchecked; Sharon had been embarrassed at the thought of calling Mr. Norris, considering how they had met, but she had misplaced the baggie with the ointment he had given her. She thought it was still in her robe at Snake Eyes, and the way her clit was sparking during the day, she had reluctantly decided she might have to contact the big BZ alumnus to ask for more.
The seemingly constant low grade arousal she felt had not been lessened by the sexting she had received starting Tuesday night, lying in bed, still not fully satisfied after cleaning up. Chris had been snoring beside her when the phone sparked up, ‘Oh, yeah,’ in a decidedly suggestive way, startling her.
Grabbing at the phone in case it was a call and the inappropriate tone repeated, she had found the text icon had a small red ’1′ above it. Selecting that, she had gasped aloud, finding a picture showing her riding one of the ‘Santas’ at the party the weekend before. Even as she panicked, deleting the image, her body had nearly begun to shake with her arousal, the sharp ‘Twang’ she was now used to sparking from clit to nipples. Fighting to ignore her rising need, Sharon had set about silencing the phone, when it had almost moaned, ‘Beautiful.’ Belatedly she had realized the first image had been sent from Dave’s cell phone.
Assuring her self Chris was still sound asleep, Sharon had found the message Shaun had sent. She did not wonder at the way the young men changed her ring tones as she realized he had sent a video clip. After silencing the ringer and volume, she had hesitantly pressed play, and had watched the little screen show her standing naked in the bathroom doorway of her apartment, encouraging Shaun to join her. The screen blinked, a different angle, showing the big frat member pounding into her doggie style on the bed. Sharon watched herself, mesmerized. She had her hands spread and thrust forward, bracing against Shaun’s steady thrusts, her body still rocking, but as she pressed her free hand over her wanting sex, the entrapped housewife remembered… she had been pushing back, hungry to feel her big black lover’s cock, deep inside.
On her smart phone’s screen, the video Sharon threw her head back, silently voicing her climax, her body shaking, even as she redoubled the eager way she was hunching back at him. The screen blinked again, showing Shaun looming over her, her ankles crossed behind his waist, kicking ineffectively, but spurring him on as he said something that made video Sharon nod. He went still a moment later, thrust against her fully, and Sharon had begun to masturbate feverishly as she remembered the way he had filled her up, less than an hour before bringing her to the party.
Sharon had managed a satisfactory climax of her own, frigging her clit beside her sleeping husband while watching the clip again. And the married white mother had felt no guilt when she was relieved of the need to cum. She had carefully renamed the file, tucking it into a section of her iPhone that was sequestered from anyone just looking through her phone. She had no idea even at home, in her own bed, her every gyration and moan was being digitally captured, building the library the BZ were profiting by. Chris would have been horrified to learn he had unknowingly signed a release, on a ruse by a ‘carpet cleaning company’ that had offered to do every room in their mansion for the price of 4 rooms. Of course, the images of Sharon’s husband were painstakingly blurred– the last thing anyone wanted was to kill the goose laying them and providing golden eggs, as Dave liked to say.
Sharon blushed, realizing the memory of the night after getting her tongue pierced had her playing with herself, standing in her closet. Her eyes fell to the glossy red nails moving expertly over her clit in the mirror’s reflection. She did not stop, flexing her knees and shivering as she slid her index finger up into her blooming sex. She applied pressure, pinching her clit with her thumb, the nail edge just barely digging into the sensitive flesh, while her curled knuckle pressed from the inside. In seconds she was spasming in a brief but pleasant orgasm.
She licked her fingers clean, still watching herself in the mirror, and wondered how she had ever gone with just the weekly screwing from Chris as her pleasure. Had she really thought masturbation was bad? It was a ridiculous memory. Trying to decide what to wear, she had paused, remembering Chris Wednesday night… He had seemed as eager as a high school boy viewing his first bare breast when he had gotten home from work. He had brought several movies for the kids, along with a bag of various candy bars, cans of soda, and the local shop’s pizza, insisting that they could ‘fend for themselves.’
He had taken Sharon to the Plaza where they had enjoyed a dinner for two in a secluded booth at the Melting Pot. Sharon had eaten voraciously, reminded again how little she had been eating. As the main course had been winding down, she had happily accepted the last glass from the bottle of sweet Moscato wine, and then had teased her husband, asking what the occasion was. He had stammered, again reminding Sharon of the nervous boy, before he had shrugged and admitted that the urologist had given him a ‘clean bill of health.’
Without thinking, Sharon had leaned close, her hand dropping to his thigh, nails tickling expertly as she had asked in a breathy voice if he had missed her. The erection jutting against his trousers had been obvious, and she had giggled, asking if he wanted to skip dessert. He had managed to laugh, pointing out he could not very well walk out like that. Later she would insist she had to have been drunk. Glancing at the curtain, though, she had offered her husband a devilish smile, then ducked under the small table. He had tried for a moment to stop her, but only weakly, a show which had made Sharon giggle as she had deftly opened his pants, freeing his fully erect cock.
Bobbing her head down onto his full length, she had swirled her tongue, pleased that he was the first to enjoy her new bauble. And he had obviously enjoyed it, moaning almost too loudly, his hands clutching the edges of his seat, hips trembling as she had paused every three or four strokes to run the piercing over the underside of his penis. Getting used to the new sensation, herself, she had added suction, and Chris had cum with a grunt less than three minutes after she had ducked under the table.
Sharon had begun to finger herself, as well, and was coaxing the last of his load out while struggling to get herself off when the waitress had put her head through the curtain.
“I was just… Oh, is your wife in the bathroom?” Sharon could only imagine Chris had managed a nod, since he had not answered. The young girl had continued, obviously unaware, “Are you ready for the chocolate fondue?” Sharon had almost giggled at the obvious nodding her husband was using rather than trying to speak. She had been tempted to nip at his softening cock, but knew she could not be so brazen… she was horrified that she had actually dared to blow him in the restaurant, despite the semi-private nature of their room.
She had managed to use the flush of her arousal as a feigned blush, slipping back into her seat when the girl was gone. Chris had zipped up, eyeing her in surprise, but by his smile she had been sure he wasn’t angry.
“That was close,” she had managed, “I can’t believe I just did that.”
“Me either,” Chris had managed.
“Are you complaining?” the pout Sharon used came naturally, and worked perfectly.
“Uhm, no… something Kelly suggested you do?” Chris had answered, and Sharon had enjoyed their teasing banter; she had forgotten how much fun her husband could be. Dessert had been delightful, Chris asking if she was trying to get her to bring her there every time she was back from school, and Sharon asking in response if he wanted to take the chocolate home to drizzle over her body.
At home Wednesday night, Chris had herded her up to bed without checking on the kids. In their bedroom, she had been surprised and delighted to find he was hard again. She had eagerly stripped down, dropping to her knees to yank his trousers to the floor and immediately devouring his shaft. She had been pouting honestly when he had pushed her away after barely a minute, warning if she did not take it easy he would be done before they were started. They had tumbled to the bed, and then he had been over her, inside of her, moving in the familiar rhythm she had come to take for granted during their marriage. Her clit has sparked and she had cried out in climax, wrapping arms and legs around her husband, bucking up to meet him, the once demure, naïve wife long forgotten.
He had joined her in his release, and they had thrashed together through it, then lay panting, tangled, his cock still seated within her until both had calmed.
“Mmm, thank you, baby,” he had said with a smile in his voice, before drifting off to sleep. Sharon had gotten up, married habit leading her to clean up before the sheets became a mess. Balanced on the toilet, she had laughed, recognizing how different it was at school where she usually simply fell asleep in mingled fluids. Maybe because she was balancing her roles as wife and slut without real effort it did not bother her that she was comparing what she did with the frat members with Chris… maybe it was that she had still climaxed, proving to herself she had not been ‘ruined.’ Maybe it had been just the wine she had enjoyed, loosening her already tentative inhibitions.
Thursday had been anticlimactic. She and the kids had slept in, while Chris went to work. Flora had fixed them sandwiches, had thanked Sharon and the kids for the gifts they had prepared, and had headed off to be with her family for Christmas. The fixings for the Christmas Eve mean and dinner Christmas day were in the big fridge with her usual meticulous but brief instructions. The long tenderloins had seemed disturbingly to Sharon like big severed cocks to Sharon when she had eyed them that afternoon.
Catherine had insisted on taking Kelly to visit her friends, and Scott had asked if he could have his friends over, to which Sharon had agreed without thought. After making some calls, he had shrugged, telling her they had asked for a ‘rain check’ and adding that he was going to go to the gym. Aware that she had not been dancing or exercising since the weekend, Sharon had gone along. The local 24 hour gym had expanded since she had last been, before school had started. And maybe because school was out, it was busier than she remembered.
She was wearing only a v neck short sleeved shirt and jogging shorts with an exercise bra and Victoria’s Secret cotton thong underneath… nothing overly sexual, but Sharon had been flattered, since every guy eyed her as she jogged on the treadmill for thirty minutes before working through the circuit on the machines. Noting a couple of the more muscular men grunting through their bench press and squat sets, she had found herself daydreaming about how it would feel to have them working so hard at fucking her. She was not half way through the machines before her crotch was soaked, and not from exertion, although none were the wiser in the humid gym– several women had similar sweat stains, she noted to her relief.
Even so, Sharon paused, masturbating in the women’s sauna and changing to a fresh thong and jogging shorts before she repeated the circuit. Her needs relieved temporarily, she had been impressed that the sheet listing what she had been lifting before leaving for school was no long enough; she was adding two and on some machines three bricks, and lifting them with comparative ease. Finished with two cycles, she left the weight room in search of Scott. Her son was playing pick up basketball on the half court below, and the white wife’s momentarily quiet libido had immediately sparked, watching the lean muscular young black men playing with her son.
TWANG her clit had pulsed so hard she nearly collapsed against the window, a hand going unconsciously between her legs. Sharon’s focus had been so divided she barely remembered to wave when Scott saw her, adding a feeble gesture to her son that she hoped he understood meant she was hitting the shower.
The feeble water from the fixed showerheads was not enough to use to get off, so Sharon chose to climb into the women’s only hot tub. With the bubbles masking her movements, she fingered herself to an orgasm, and a seconds when the need persisted, despite other women coming and going, and a couple even slipping into the tub with her for a time. It was nearly 30 minutes before she came out, her need still acute, to find Scott waiting less than patiently
That need had not lessened during the rest of the day. She found herself day dreaming about the dark skinned clerk at the gas station where they stopped on the way home. And at dinner, the mocha skinned waiter’s smooth baritone seemed to trigger her clit’s spasm whenever he stopped to check on them. Worse, Chris had made no effort at initiating sex, and Sharon had found herself scared to do so, not wanting to be so changed that her husband might suspect she was more than timidly experimenting with him.
Another shower with the handheld showerhead seemed to barely touch her need, and Sharon had eventually fallen asleep only after masturbating again beside her husband, first with the video clip she had gotten earlier in the week, and again after she had unexpectedly received a second clip of her riding ‘Santa’ to his obvious climax. Skin glistening with sweat, she had dreamed of being taken endlessly by BZ members, until the morning, when in a semi-lucid time the dreams shifted, and she was the one dominating big cocked studs, the dream Sharon dressed like Cleopatra, casually enjoying the endless supply of servants and ardent suitors.
‘Beautiful!’ she had sat up, scrabbling blindly for the phone which was lost in the sheet and blanket. Chris had poked his head out of the bathroom.
“That’s your ring tone?” he asked and laughed. Sharon had shrugged noncommittally. “I thought I heard it the other night… That’s from that movie…”
Sharon nodded, “Ferris Buehler. “Kelly or one of the other sisters said ‘it was me.’ I hope she didn’t mean because I was old.” She clutched the sheet to her chest, aware that her nipples were so hard they were tingling. The rush of the dream she had been having was still circulating through her aroused body, and she wondered what she would say if her husband noticed and asked her about it. Chris laughed, and crossed the room, giving her a lingering kiss.
“You’re not old…” he gave her an endearing crooked smile, “Old people don’t do what you did the other night.” Sharon giggled and blushed. “I’ll let you prove you’re not old again tonight once the kids are in bed and we have the gifts arranged… We have all of the gifts, right?” he frowned, as if worried they had forgotten something.
Sharon pouted, “Well, I even have some extra gifts for Kelly and the kids, but you’re impossible to shop for.”
Her husband laughed, “I thought you’d already taken care of my gift.” Sharon was puzzled until he stuck his tongue out. She blushed again.
“So you like it, then?” Sharon bit her lip, pleased that he did, so she would not have to answer awkward questions.
“You,” he bent and kissed her again, “And it are amazing. I can’t wait to enjoy both of you tonight. But work calls…” and he was off, leaving Sharon to get up or go back to sleep.
Probably because she was already excited from the dream falling back asleep had been impossible, so Sharon had gotten up, put a robe on, and had made a pot of coffee before she had begun to wrap the presents. As was her habit, she had used an old Architect’s drafting board Chris had used in college, wrapping the gifts with different paper for each of the people in her family, plus one ‘Santa’ package for each person, all with the same paper. Along the way, the room had gotten stuffy, so she had tossed the robe onto the bed, laughing that she was more comfortable naked then in clothes.
Standing before the mirror, Sharon’s recollections of Winter Break ended. For a moment the woman in the mirror seemed impossibly sexy, on the edge of a glorious climax. Giving a small gasp Sharon yanked her hand away from her hungry sex and dashed out of the closet to the bed, pawing through the covers. She had forgotten the phone. She shuddered, wondering what Chris would have seen if it had been exposed when he had kissed her good bye.
It was just a text message that read ‘You and Kelly are needed at 5. She’ll explain where.’ Sharon read the message, wondering just what it was Dave needed, and wishing it could wait until after Christmas. Christmas eve was supposed to be about family; they always did dinner and went to church together. She glanced at the clock, surprised 3 hours had passed as she had sipped coffee, wrapped gifts… She smiled, and of course as she had played with herself. She could not deny that she hoped whatever it was the BZ needed them for she might have some time to really get off on a cock.
Not considering how differently she had come to think about her having sex, Sharon threw on a thong, shorts, and the school sweat pants before she stopped herself, selecting nice slacks and a matching blouse, instead. The slacks were shockingly loose, as was the lace bra she took from the top drawer of her dresser, and Sharon reluctantly chose to wear a cotton Victoria Secret tank with a shelf bra under the print blouse, instead. She put her hair up, as she had taken to doing whenever she was home, and went down to see if the others were up.
They were, but they were also leaving. Catherine explained she still had some shopping to do, waving the keys to her VW bug. Sharon asked where Kelly was,
:”Dunno” Scott said around a mouthful of the cinnamon rolls someone had made from a tube, “She just said she’d be back and ran out to get into a car that pulled up… I nice lowered tinted G35,” he added, which meant exactly nothing to Sharon. “Do you know when dad’s going to be home?” Scott added, “I wanted him to meet the guys.”
“The guys? We have church tonight, Christopher Scott,” Sharon answered sharply, catching her daughter with a pointed finger, “You, too, young lady. Home before 5 so we can eat and get to church.”
“Aw, mom,” both kids complained, “We always do church.” “Yeah, I’ve been invited to the movies.” “The guys are doing dinner and a movie, too,” Scott echoed his sister. Sharon sighed, the anticipation she had felt for the family night crumbling, but she did not want to make a scene. And she could not just ignore the text message.
She picked up the phone after hugging her kids and telling them to be safe and to touch base frequently. Chris’ secretary took her sweet time, and Sharon was wondering if maybe she needed to cut down on the caffeine she was feeling so testy by the time her husband picked up.
Her mood was not helped when Chris told her he was not going to be home early, adding that he might not be home until after the dinner they had planned for 7 that night.
“It’s Christmas Eve, Chris,” she meant it as a whine, but realized it sounded more like she was angry. Chris apologized, insisting that he would be home to put the presents out– she wrapped, he put them out by tradition– and elaborating about a deadline they could not miss.
“I don’t really care, Chris,” Sharon snapped, “This is our family’s holiday, and now maybe no one will be home.” Part of her hoped he would decide that was reason enough to ignore the deadline and come home, a thought that started her arousal once again.
“Babe, it’s not… I’d love to be home alone with you right now,” Chris insisted, “But I’m off all of next week, remember? We have to get this in or the whole thing could be ruined. I promise I’ll just pencil in the draft and let Gideon finish it up. You could still go to church… hang out with your girlfriends, right?”
“I guess,” Sharon considered what he was saying, “I can just putter around the house, though… I don’t want to impose on their holidays.”
“Trust me,” Chris insisted, “Every time I see one of them they ask about you. They WANT to see you so it’s fine,” he paused, “Hell, if Heather or Linda hear about your new jewelry maybe their husband’s will have to come thank me by New Years!” Sharon gasped.
“I’m not telling them about that!” she almost shouted, “You’re horrible!” And they both laughed, Chris at having gotten a rise out of her, and Sharon at the thought of either of her friends… any of her friends getting a tongue piercing.
“OK,” Chris was still playing the peacekeeper, “I guess I shouldn’t have said anything to Daniel.”
“You didn’t!” Sharon was aghast, some last vestige of the proper wife horrified that their friends would think of her practicing oral sex on her husband.
“I didn’t,” Chris agreed, “We’ll just keep that our little secret… but what will you tell people when they notice and ask?” Sharon answered without thinking, as if she was working the floor at Snake Eyes.
“I’ll tell them you like the way it feels when I suck you off.” She nearly choked, too late, having remember to whom she was talking.
“Well, I guess that’s true enough,” Chris said after a heartbeat, “Damn, but aren’t you just full or surprises.” Sharon giggled.
“I might wish I’d say that,” she admitted, “But I think I’ll die if someone asks.
“Hell, just tell them it’s a sorority rite and they’ll stop asking,” Chris said, obviously forgetting the difference between ‘little sisters’ and sorority sisters. That confusion was a relief to Sharon.
“Ha, OK, that’s what I’ll do. I’m sorry you won’t be home until late, too, baby,” Sharon meant it, even if the tone was the practiced purr she used to coax John’s into the champagne room at Go’s. “I can’t wait for you to get home.”
“After all this talk, I can’t wait to get home,” he assured her, before his secretary interrupted that Chris had a client waiting. Smiling at his saying that he loved her, Sharon hung up.
She sat down at the computer in the den and made sure everything that she had ordered had arrived. She sent out an email Christmas card, including an apology that it was so short, but reminding their friends she was away at school, keeping busy with her studies. She heard the door beep several times in short succession, and frowned at the kids going in and out like that before she remembered Catherine was getting gifts. She wondered for a moment what he oldest had decided to buy for her mother, especially since she had apparently passed some ‘cool’ test by letting her get the piercing.
When neither of the kids came calling, she assumed they were in their rooms wrapping presents, and continued at the computer. She answered emails, surfed Pinterest pinning up various shoes and outfits she thought were sexy. She got on Facebook, something she rarely did as busy as she was at school, and perused her friends’ pages and posts for a bit, before wandering back to the kitchen for a drink, musing that she could not post much of what she was doing at school on her page. While she had purchased the little ‘pop’ servings of champagne that were her staple at school, Sharon chose a glass of orange juice which she carried back to the den, having remembered a few little things she decided she would go ahead and order, to save for New Years or some other time when a little gift for Chris or the kids might be needed.
She paged through the browser’s History, seeing that her husband was still frequently several porn sites, though it did not look like he was paying for anything. Sharon selected a couple of the sites, based on their names, worried that she might be plastered front and center in a way Chris could not fail to miss. While she recognized a couple of the Sisters in some images on one site, she saw none of herself or Kelly and smiled, pleased that Dave and Shaun were keeping their word.
Of course, the images of various women being thoroughly plundered by various cocks had her more than a little aroused again. At the demanding twang of her clit, Sharon leaned back in the chair and opened her slacks, fingering herself to another climax. The pants were tight and made the job more difficult, but the liked the ease of access to her nipples, thanks to the shelf bra under shirt.
Aware that the kids might come down the hall at any moment, she buttoned up, shut the browser– after deleting the sites she had visited that day– and took her empty glass back into the kitchen. It still was not three PM, she saw, from the clock on the range. She decided to grab the towels, in part, subconsciously, she knew to see what her kids were up to, but reasoning that everyone could stand to switch to new towels to get clean for Christmas.
But both kid’s rooms were empty. She grabbed the towels, Scott’s off of the floor, Catherine’s and Kelly’s off of her daughter’s bed, and detoured upstairs to the master bath for she and Chris’ towels before passing through the kitchen to the laundry. On the way down the stairs, she thought she heard the television on in the big family room, so she went in after starting the laundry, but it was empty. Puzzled, she decided they might be in the basement rec room, and went down the stairs, hearing as she did the sound of the television, playing some sporting event.
“You didn’t say you were home,” she started as she turned at the bottom of the stairs, the big flat panel television casting the only light in the dark room, “I’m surprised you didn’t say you wanted something to eat.”
“Oh, we’re hungry all right,” a voice answered, the shadowed figure sitting up from where he had been lounging in the nearest recliner. Sharon’s heart skipped a beat, because she recognized the voice before she saw who was in the seat.
“Zeke!” Sharon breathed in shock. The big black football star smiled.
“See, guys, I told you she’d know who it was.” Sharon blinked, realizing that there were three other shadows– three other young men– in the basement.
“I didn’t know Chris had… you over…” she meant to say friends, but could not make the word come out. She wanted to run back upstairs, but could not move.
“Oh, he’s not back yet,” Zeke waved a hand noncommittally, “But we’re buds… I’ve been over before– did you know that? He said we should make ourselves at home.” Sharon managed a nod.
“Oh, well, that’s fine. I can… would you like something to eat?” Zeke’s teeth glittered in the blue light of the television.
“Definitely, little MILF,” the others laughed. “But if you wanted to get us something to drink before we begin to eat, that would be cool.” There were nods, Sharon could see. She was having a hard time focusing, because her clit has started to pulse at the realization there were virile young black men in front of her; her body was almost screaming to be taken. She wondered if Zeke’s ‘friends’ had already been inside of her, the day of the football game a few weeks before. The memory triggered another ‘TWANG’ so powerful she was sure the others had to have seen her twitch. “What you want, dawg?” He turned to the others, “Her old man don’t have Bud, but he has some good high end beer…”
“We have orange juice, and root beer, and Diet Coke,” Sharon started, “Milk, and water… I think there’s lemonade…”
“Three beers and a diet coke,” Zeke said, as if it was the most natural request. Sharon bobbed her head once and turned, wishing she was up the stairs already. “But c’mere first, girl,” he said. Biting back fear and arousal, Sharon moved into the dark room, approaching the recliner from the side. Zeke looked her up and down, shaking his head. “You look like you’re ready to go to church or something.” Sharon blushed, at the memory of what she had been doing a few minutes earlier in the same clothes. She managed to nod.
“Well, Zeke,” she said, “It’s Christmas eve. We always go to church on Christmas eve. Don’t you?” One of the others snorted.
“We figure we’re gonna be Playing on Sundays, little MILF,” Zeke answered as if that was an adequate explanation. “That’s a nice get up, but it just won’t do, will it, gang?” Sharon saw heads shaking.
She covered her chest, feeling very naked despite the blouse and under layer, “Please…” there was real anxiety in her voice, bordering on desperation, “This is my home…” There were broad smiles all across the room.
Zeke’s head bobbed steadily, as if to an internal soundtrack, “Yeah, that makes it that much better, right?”
The dark skinned young man to Zeke’s right, his eyes feasting unendingly on Sharon’s body, bobbed his head aggressively, “Damn straight.” She shivered, almost certain she could feel his gaze. She knew that her crotch was soaking wet… Soon her pants would be showing her arousal.
Zeke smiled, “But we’re not minding our manners,” he nodded at the young man in the love seat to his left. Sharon took a hesitant step toward him, thinking she was meant to sit beside Zeke’s friend. “This is Franklin… We call him Train.”
“Train?” Sharon frowned. The young man was broad and muscular, but no more so than the others.
“Yeah,” the fourth kid sneered, “His last name’s Atchison, like that old train company.” Sharon nodded as if that made sense.
“You really think you should be drinking beer on the afternoon of Christmas eve?” she asked.
“Shit, bitch,” the fourth laughed harshly, “We can always get beer here, right, Z? Chris give it to us and without a hassle… sort of like he give up his bitch.” Sharon blanched, an image of Chris calmly letting these boys take her into their bedroom for ‘some fun’ simultaneously terrifying and spurring her excitement. There was something about his voice, but she could not place it.
“Hey!” Zeke barked, “Chill, Allison, this is down low, Shaun made that clear. We fuck that up, we won’t play anywhere.” Sharon remembered an Allison the day Zeke and his quarterback had taken her during the Thanksgiving break game. “John’s just teasing you, Sharon,” he patted her ass as if to relax her, “He won’t say anything.” Sharon nodded.
“But I’m gonna get some of that,” Allison insisted, shifting where he was sitting, “Watching had me so hard I couldn’t run most of the third quarter, and you bastards wouldn’t let me take a turn.”
“That why you didn’t have a catch the second half?” Zeke laughed, “Love told you: you have to be BZ.”
“Well I guess that’s taken care of, isn’t it?” the angrier young man growled, then smiled cruelly at the other young man, who was taller and much less muscular, “So does that mean you just get to watch, Marlin.”
“Damn, Allison,” Train, shook his head, “Would you drop the thug routine? You’re gonna get to fuck her already, right Z?” Sharon balled her fists, suddenly irrationally hating the way they were talking about her like she was not even there. Zeke just offered another of his languid, repetitive head bobs.
“Oh yeah,” he assured the others, “And she is FINE.” He leaned over to pat Marlin’s shoulder, “And in addition to being nice to the girls that’ll bust your nut for you, remember that Marlin’s not just the best three point shot in school; he’s the guy who’s gonna help make sure you don’t flunk out before graduation.” Sharon tried to hide her smile at the way the others had put John in his place.
She also realized that Marlin was still watching her intently, with a quiet intensity rather than the bravado and ego of the others. It was intriguing, and she found herself wondering if the young man was a virgin.
“We’re pretty thirsty, Sharon,” Allison growled, and despite her visible start, Sharon lifted her chin rather than hurry to obey.
“We use manners in this home,” she said stiffly, “Trevor,” pointedly ignoring him, she turned to Zeke, choosing his given name over his middle name or nickname, whatever it was, “Are you going to be driving if I agree to bring you some beers?”
“Well, Mrs. Sobel,” Zeke played along, which served to increase Sharon’s anger at the situation, “I believe we’ll find a way to stay busy long enough that we’d be safe.” She nodded and turned toward the stairs, ignoring Allison’s snort of contempt.
“Uh, what about…” Marlin was talking to Zeke, she realized and did not slow or stop.
“Oh yeah,” Zeke held his hand out and Marlin handed over a white paper sack, “I almost forgot. See, John, that’s why we listen to Marlin; he’s smart that way.”
“Wise,” Train agreed with a somber nod.
“Mrs. Sobel,” Zeke stayed in character, making Sharon want to scream, “We brought you a little something.” He handed her the sack, “We hop you’ll like it.”
“I know we will,” Allison said with a leer.
Sharon pulled a clear plastic package with a paper insert out of the sack. It was an ‘adult’ costume from Pins Parkway. She remembered a few of the costumes Dave had had her purchase. Their costumes could not hold up to the demands of stripping, but had served well at several BZ parties, not to mention entertaining the occasional chip holder with a special fetish or perversion.
Turning the package over, she saw that it was their take on ‘Santa’s Elf.’ Glancing in the bag, she saw that the accessories– the booties and hat– were included. She tried not to stare at the picture of the woman on the package, a busty brunette spilling out of the spandex crop top, camel toe barely hidden by the printed ‘tie’ on the front of the high waisted skin tight hot pants.
“Uhm, thank you,” she said, taking a step back, hoping to reach the stairs, even though she knew it was not going to happen.
“Whoa, Sharon,” Zeke was smiling… Damn them, they were all smiling, even Marlin, albeit shyly. “We want to see how it looks on you.”
“Somebody might come home,” Sharon argued, barely managing to keep from unbuttoning her blouse even as she spoke. The heat between her thighs threatened to overwhelm reason. “Can’t I show it to you later?”
“See guys,” Zeke laughed, “She’s so hot she wants us to sleep over.” He looked back at her, “Sorry, Mrs. Sobel, but we can’t risk your family finding out how… helpful you are to the frat.” Sharon wanted to sigh in relief, even as she knew he was lying… well, not lying, but he did not care as much as he wanted her to believe.
“If that was true you would not be here asking me to wear that,” she said flatly.
“Zeke stood so quickly Sharon gasped.
“Mrs. Sobel,” he said, clicking his tongue to mimic the sound of disappointment she expected older teachers still used, “I’m sure you’re not arguing.” Sharon managed to shake her head, hating the way her clit was buzzing as he stepped close. And loving it. “In fact,” he deftly cupped her crotch, and Sharon could not stifle her groan of arousal, “That’s what I though,” his leer was close to Allison’s, “You’re so hot you’re about to set those pants on fire, right?” Sharon blushed, but nodded. “It’s okay, Mrs. Sobel,” Zeke stroked her hair, her cheek, making her tremble, “You don’t have to pretend with us. Just try this on, then get us our beers and we’ll let you get off.” Blinking, moving as if entranced, Sharon stepped away from Zeke and away from the stairs, taking a position between the young men. They watched silently as she unbuttoned her blouse in quick economical movements, shrugging the open blouse and shelf T off as one. Train whistled.
“Damn,” Allison smiled, “no bra that whole time… you are a hottie, aren’t you!” Sharon bit her lip but nodded as she released the button of her slacks, pushing them with her thong to the floor. She was more than a little hopeful they would forget the costume and simply take her. There was a tearing noise and she looked over to see Zeke opening the Velcro closure. He pulled the bright green costume out, tossing it casually to Sharon.
“Hurry, Mrs. Sobel,” he said, “We don’t know when Scott will get back.” Sharon wrinkled her nose at the artificial smell of the fabric; she wished there was time to wash it first. The boys watched in rapt fascination as she struggled into the long sleeved crop top, the bottom edge of which left the bottoms of her breasts bare. Without checking, she knew the outline of her nipple piercing was obvious, but as hard as her nipples were, both were visibly tenting the tight material. Maintaining her balance standing while slipping into the impossibly tight bottoms was an almost easy task after the weeks she had spent doing the opposite on stage. They were obscenely short, stopping above the edge of her ass, and clung to her skin, except that she realized they had an open crotch, as the cooler air of the basement reached her enflamed sex without resistance. Zeke handed her the booties… 4″ bright green plastic heels with a curled front toe ending in a white puff ball attached to a spandex stocking that stopped above her knees. The hat was spandex, too, but was loose, with a matching larger cotton puff at the end.
Turning with practiced ease on heels lower than what she often danced in, Sharon showed the outfit off for the boys, shimmying to make sure that it was covering… well, that it was covering what it could cover. There was a thrill of undeniable power that coursed through her at the way they were staring at her. Ignoring the small voice screaming for her to lift a leg and spread her sex, Sharon sniffed lifted her chin, and sauntered to the stairs, pausing to look at the staring young men, daring them to tell her to stop.
“Better hurry,” Allison said, pointedly grabbing his crotch, “I see I need to get my package early this year.” Sharon worked her hips climbing the stairs, at least until she was out of the boys’ sight. Then she nearly ran the rest, bursting from the door and into the kitchen.
Shaking with fear that Scott or Catherine would have arrived while she was downstairs, Sharon rushed into the kitchen, not caring that the blinds were open. She threw the refrigerator open, scooping several cans of beer and soda into an empty grocery bag that had not been completely tucked into the crease between the fridge and the counter, then rushed back downstairs, telling herself they would never really do anything when Scott might be home anytime.
She was wrong, of course.
“Thanks, slut,” John smirked, grabbing the bag and tossing cans to the others. “Here you go, egghead,” he tossed a diet soda at rather than to Marlin, but Sharon noticed the young man caught it. And he wisely did not open it.
“Not thirsty?” the more athletic aggressive young man taunted.
“Sorry, Allison,” Marlin shrugged, “But I’ll wait so it doesn’t foam and make a mess on the carpet.”
“Well, that’s thoughtful,” Franklin said, standing up, “But I suspect there’s gonna be at least a little bit of a mess when we’re through.” He caught Sharon by the waist, yanking her close, and forcing his lips down onto hers. Sharon nipped at his lip and when he jerked back she laughed harshly.
“Little boy,” she snorted again, “So confident you’re the big strong man…” He licked his lip; she had not broken the skin. “Oh, you don’t like it rough?” she taunted him, confident they would not mark her up in their own home, even as a small voice was screaming at her that she was crazy to behave like that.
“Bitch!” Train spun her around with a backhand that made Sharon gasp.
“Hey!,” Trevor shouted, lunging out of his seat, “Careful, man, can’t be doing that.”
“She bit me!” Franklin argued.
“Little boy can’t take a love bite?” Sharon managed, from where she was sprawled over the ottoman, “You aren’t so tough after all.” It was unfair, she could admit– Allison was the one who had been so angry and confrontational. She got a wicked thrill taunting him, though.
Growling in anger, Train yanked his shorts down and threw himself at Sharon… against Sharon.
“Ahhh!” she cried out as he drove his erection into her, “Yes!” Sharon arched her back, tilting her bottom up, welcoming the driving cock, “Fuck me!” Train slapped her ass, then caught her waist, hips pumping as he drove into her full force.
“You like that, bitch?” he panted, “Does. This. Feel. Like. A. Boy.” Sharon had braced her hands against the forward edges of the ottoman and pushed back, welcoming each thrust.
“Is that… all you’ve got?” she panted, then laughed. Roaring, the young man redoubled his efforts, immediately giving Sharon a shimmering orgasm. She clamped her lips tight, unwilling to admit to him the pleasure he was bringing her. She was glad the only light was from the television, masking her twitching body. As soon as she could manage to speak again, which was barely a handful of seconds, she laughed… giggled really.
“Bitch!” Train nearly screamed, lunging as if he could somehow bury more of himself in Sharon’s sex, “Someone shut her up.” Laughing at the spectacle, Allison rose from his position, smoothly dropping his shorts, as well.
“I don’t know, Train,” he taunted, moving forward, “Sounds like the lady knows there’s a better man available.
“Zeke?” Atchison managed through clenched teeth, “Hell, of course he’s better… But if this,” he had slowed to banter with his friend, and thrust especially violently into Sharon at that, “Isn’t impressing her, your narrow dick won’t do more.”
“Don’t talk,” Sharon growled, pushing back visibly at Franklin, “Fuck, don’t talk.”
“Shut her up!” Franklin nearly howled, gripping Sharon’s waist once more and driving into her madly. Laughing, John moved around, slapping his erection against Sharon’s face.
“You heard him, Mrs. Sobel,” he taunted her now as she had tried to shame Zeke earlier, “Open up like a good MILF.” Sharon did, relieved in truth to begin feeding upon the cocky receiver’s shaft, as refraining from moaning had become difficult. She was not surprised when he immediately drove himself into her throat, and feigned a gag, though he was not so big as to impress the well experienced housewife. “Yeah, slut,” Allison taunted, “That impress you? Ready to take that in your married cunt?” Sharon moaned around his shaft, knowing he would interpret it as agreement. “See, Train?” he taunted the growling hammering running back, “She just needed… reminding who’s boss.”
Sharon spasmed between them, and both young men assumed it was pleasure at their thrusting cocks. Instead, the practiced BZ Bitch was laughing at the thought that either man… or both together, could satisfy her. True, she had climaxed again, and Franklin was quite adequately fucking her, but it paled in comparison to what some of her regular partners could provide.
“OK, nigga,” Franklin huffed, “I need… a break… anyway.” And he pulled out. Without thinking about it, Sharon whined in protest around Allison’s cock.
“Yeah, I know, slut,” the aggressive young man laughed, “You’re ready to really feel this.” He backed out, “Ain’t that right?”
“If you think you’re man enough,” she managed, after wiping her mouth.
“You trick ass bitch,” Allison’s eyes narrowed and he pushed Franklin aside, moving around, “In fact,” he thrust fully into her, and Sharon just laughed again, which she saw made Franklin smile. She wondered if he knew what his friend was about to do; she did. “I think what you really need,” he was thrusting in and out slowly, pausing each time he backed out almost completely, “Is an,” she relaxed as he backed out completely and redirected his cock head before lunging at her again, “ASS fucking.” She hissed as he pushed into her almost fully in one stroke, wondering if he would realize she was taking him too easily. He did not, spanking her ass with his right hand, “Isn’t that right?”
“I don’t know,” she managed, then giggled, “Are you ready to fuck my ass, yet?” Train laughed, and it was Allison’s turn to shout, catching her hips and thrusting at her in blind fury. “Oh!” she gasped, then giggled after he had been driving into her for most of a minute. “You are fucking my ass… Go on, then… Faster… Fuck me harder.” Looking to her left, she saw the tall quiet young man watching them intently. She twitched her ass, “Oh, that does feel good, baby. Thank you for showing me.” She heard Zeke chuckle behind them, and John reacted by pumping at her more fervently.
“Is it as good as you expected, Allison?” Zeke asked.
“She’s great,” the young tough, gasped, “Shit hot… But Train’s right… gotta keep her… from talking… Bitch… doesn’t know… her place.” At that, he backed out, pushing into Sharon’s empty pussy once again. Sharon shimmied her hips, giving a low moan of pleasure instead of protesting, as she knew John expected. “Damn,” he managed, “If she wasn’t so hot… I’d… Damn, but she’s hot.” Sharon giggled, pushing back at him, and gave a showy moan the next time he bottomed out.
“God, baby, that’s so good,” she cooed, “Fuck me baby… Get me off.” She shivered at how delicious it felt, not just being thoroughly fucked, but at having such total control over young men who thought they were the ones calling the shots.
It was no surprise when Allison stiffened, unable to control himself. Sharon turned her tremors into a reasonable facsimile of a climax, letting her head drop onto the ottoman, ass still high as the latest young man to enjoy her body pulled back, flopping bare assed into the seat to her right.
“Zeke?” she asked after her breathing had calmed. She was no longer concerned that she was almost naked in front of these young men… had known the moment she had found them in the basement they would soon enough be using her. “Is it your turn?” She dropped the pretense… teasing and controlling was fun… it was nearly as exciting as sex, just maybe. But Zeke was not as naïve as his friends, she knew. And after enjoying some fun with the others, she wanted a real fucking.
“Mrs. Sobel,” Zeke said, she knew with feigned concern, “I think you are forgetting your manners.” She half turned, ass still in the air, inviting. “You forgot to take care of all of my friends.”
“Hey,” Train interrupted, “I wasn’t done, yet… I just needed a break!”
“Well, wait your turn, now,” Zeke snorted, “It’s time for Marlin to get a taste of what he can enjoy now that he’s joining us as a BZ.” Sharon looked over at the quiet but intense young man. He licked his lips nervously, looked from Zeke to her, and back to Zeke. “No pressure man,” Zeke said, seeming to recognize his friend’s hesitation, “If you aren’t up for it, it’s no problem.” Marlin chuckled.
“Naw, man… I’d be crazy not to want a taste… You sure she clean?”
“They check her, man,” Zeke assured him, and Sharon wondered just how she was ‘checked.’ “So long as we clean, she clean.”
“Guess I shoulda gone before Allison, eh?”
“Hey!” John argued, then fell back and chuckled.
“Oh, Allison’s no worry,” Zeke assured him, “He talks a great game, but…”
“Hey!” John said again, then glowered… or more accurately pouted.
“It’s Train you got to worry about,” Zeke continued, “That boy gets more pussy than any two of us deserve.”
“Bullshit,” Franklin snorted, “I don’t even get as much as I want… usually.” Zeke laughed at that. “And I haven’t finished yet, anyway.” Marlin stood, unbuttoning his jeans.
“Then I’m not gonna just sit and watch… I wondered why you were all wearing basketball shorts.” He stepped out of them, moving up behind the still aroused housewife.
Expecting uncertainty and bluster after the others, Sharon was surprised when the gawky young man caught the base of his cock, rubbing the swollen tip down her seam. He pressed forward, the edge slipping over her clit, stoking Sharon’s need. Biting back a moan, she tilted her pelvis, wanting to feel him inside of her. Instead, the young man teased back up, almost inserting his rock hard tip, spreading her wet, wanting inner lips. He toyed with her ass, then dipped back, pausing as if to enter her, and then pushed lower, teasing her clit again.
Sharon heard Marlin and Zeke chuckle. It made her angry. She almost lunged back as Marlin’s tip slipped back up, shouting in triumph when she managed to take him inside. Marlin’s hand pressed firmly on her ass, though, keeping her from impaling herself like she wanted. Applying pressure, he pulled free, the wetted tip teasing over her backdoor once again. Sharon whimpered, struggling to take him, even if it was in her ass. She wanted to feel him driving into her.
Chuckling again, the young man released her hold on her ass as he dipped back through her hungry channel. He circled her clit several times, somehow sensing that Sharon was ready to once again throw herself back onto him as he completed the teasing swipe. She tried to calm herself, but only for a second, lunging back unsuccessfully as he teased her, backing off expertly, keeping in contact but not moving inside.
“Fuck!” Sharon growled, feeling the next teasing push. She pounded her fists on the edge of the ottoman. “Fucker. Don’t tease.” Marlin ignored that, circling her clit mercilessly at the bottom of his next pass.
“Gotta ask for it, ma’am,” she heard him say softly. She shook her head angrily; he was supposed to want her to badly he could not control himself. She was not about to break down and ask him to fuck her in her own basement. She levered against the ottoman as she felt his wonderful cock slip back up toward her ass; screamed in frustration when he evaded her need once again. She arched her back, offering her ass. He ignored it, other than immediately plowing back through her seam, almost inside, to resume circling her clit.
“Fuck me!” the words escaped her throat before she could stop herself. “Fuck me, you bastard… Don’t tease me, show me whaaaah!” Marlin lanced into her, a steady thrust, not fast, but complete, and he held himself there, chuckling with Zeke as the impaled white housewife shivered and moaned. He waited for the peak of her release, then began to thrust in and out, but without holding her waist or hips as the others had. Sharon’s fists pounded against the rough fabric of the furniture, dropped to clench at the shag carpet on the basement floor, welcoming the steady thrusting of his cock.
“You like that?” she heard his voice, but was barely aware of where she was, it felt so good, as he moved in and out of her, amplifying her still present need. She nodded, not sure she could speak. And then he was out of her. When he did not spear her ass, she whimpered, ass twitching as she rocked back, hungry to have him keep fucking her. “I don’t think she likes me,” Marlin said to Zeke.
“No!” Sharon moaned, “I love it. Don’t stop… Fuck me, please. Fuck me!” He rewarded her with another full steady stroke, somehow triggering her next climax by the motion. But he did not stop as before, thrusting in, pausing a beat, then backing almost completely out of her clenching channel. Sharon whined, moaned, whimpered, begging for more, urging him on at the bottom of each delicious stroke. He was massive, in her mind, filling her, stretching her… How else could she be getting off so strongly?
When she realized there was a cock at her mouth, she leaned forward, gobbling hungrily at it, whoever it was. Train, she knew by the third or fourth stroke, taking him into her throat and holding him so that the her cry of pleasure was transmitted into Train’s shaft. He groaned, hand tangling in her hair, as he began to fuck himself against her face. Neither cared that she could barely breathe, Sharon because her body was already on the precipice of another climax.
It broke, and rebounded into another as Marlin leaned over her, increasing the pace of his thrusting, and reaching around her torso to pinch as her swinging, pierced nipple. Sharon humped back at him, loving every moment, hoping it could go on forever. Her head spun as she went for long periods without a breath, working Train’s swollen cock eagerly.
“Guys?” Sharon stiffened, horrified at the dim recognition that she had just heard Scott speak…. Her son was on the basement stairs. She blushed, realizing that even knowing he was there, she was sucking hungrily on Franklin’s cock, rocking back to meet Marlin’s rapid thrusting. She could not stop herself, wanting to cum, wanting to get Marlin off, even though she knew at that moment that her marriage was over. “Is that? Shit, you’ve got a girl down here?” Zeke snorted,
“She wanted some cock, and we had some cock to offer.” Sharon whimpered around Train’s erection, her concentration split as she tasted his pre-cum. “C’mon,” Zeke continued, “We’ve all had a turn, join in.”
“Dude,” Scott sounded closer, and Sharon was sure any moment he would say ‘mom?’ “My mom’s car is in the garage… She’s home. If she sees you…”
“That’s why Train’s got his cock in her throat,” John said from Sharon’s side, “She was starting to get noisy and Marlin hadn’t had his turn.”
“Uh, thanks, but I’ll pass…” He had not moved away. Sharon guessed her son had no idea she was the girl the others were using. It made sense, considering what she was wearing and with her face buried in Franklin’s crotch, as well as the poor lighting in the room. She wondered what she would do if her son chose to take a turn. “Maybe I’d better… I’ll go up and make sure mom doesn’t come down,” Scott stammered, moving away from the action.
“Cool,” Zeke said, “We won’t be long, will we, M?” Marlin answered by picking up the pace, pounding into the helpless wife. Sharon cried out around Franklin’s cock, stomach clenching spasmodically as she climaxed yet again.
“You a homo or what?” Allison taunted her son at that moment, “Got a fine piece of ass and you won’t hit it?”
“Uh, no,” Scott answered, “She looks shit hot.”
“Oh, she is,” Franklin sighed, and he began to pulse into Sharon’s mouth, making her struggle to swallow his load.
“So you racist?” Allison challenged again, “Too good to share with the niggas?”
“Dude,” Zeke cautioned, “Uncool.”
“It’s OK, Z,” Scott said, “No, John… I figure having y’all here when I’m not home… not freaking when you’re banging a slut while my mom’s in the house… I think you know better.” Sharon tensed, wondering if her son was about to step up and take his turn after all. “If you want to know why,” Scott went on, “I’m sort of hoping to hook up with the freshman who’s here for Christmas break with my mom.”
“What?” Franklin had started to back off, and Sharon caught his ass in her hands, anchoring him in place as she bobbed her head, cleaning his softening prick, desperate to keep her face hidden. “You getting some from that hot brunette?”
“No… I mean not yet,” Scott answered, the guys hooted, “But I think she likes me,” he added defensively.
“It’s cool, Scottie,” Zeke said, “The guys haven’t met Kelly or they’d be impressed.”
“Thanks, Z,” Scott said, “I’ll be back down in a few minutes. Just keep it down, if my mom found you doing this she’d shit.”
“I dunno, Scott,” Allison answered, “Maybe she’d join in.” Scott snorted, and Sharon heard him climb the stairs. Franklin fell away from her laughing.
“Dude,” he nearly choked, “Maybe she’d join in?” Sharon glared at John, then glanced back at Marlin, angry that they were going to have to hurry up.
“Are you close, baby?” she cooed, and Marlin snorted, then shrugged.
“Guess I have to be.” She blinked at that, surprised that he would admit to having such good control, even as he picked the pace up another notch, hammering against her ass.
“Oh, God, yes!” she groaned less than a minute later, forgetting why she was angry, forgetting the need to hurry, aware only of her imminent climax.
“Ahhhh,” Marlin almost shouted, and the almost searing heat of his release buried deep inside of Sharon opened the floodgates on her own orgasm. Whining, head nodding encouragement, she pressed back against the young man until both were spent. When she sagged forward off of Marlin’s still impressive cock, the other three clapped and whistled. Sharon giggled, the rolled up off of the ottoman, cupping a hand over her open, drooling cunt.
“Is there another way out of the basement?” Trevor asked calmly, handing her the thong, which she knew would do nothing to stem the flow of mingled jism from her well used seam. She shook her head.
“Unless I go out through the steps into the garage,” she answered, “The alarm would beep when I go out and again when I come in through the garage.”
“Wanna hide down here?” Zeke asked, “We can take him someplace to get a snack.” Sharon had the sudden image of her hiding behind the couch while the guys ‘forgot’ she was there and sat watching television for a couple hours. Probably something pornographic if Allison had his way. She had donned the thong, too distracted to argue about what Zeke handed her. She tugged the slacks on one handed, releasing her sex only to raise them the last little bit, leaving a smear of semen over the zipper and button. She pulled the shirt and blouse on over the costume, not caring that it was untucked. She dashed up the stairs, fixing buttons as she went, pausing at the top of the stairs.
“Mom?” she heard Scott calling from across the house. She ran down the hall for the stairs, praying Scott was not in her bedroom.
“Scott?” she shouted back, reaching the top step and the safety of her bedroom a moment before her son came up the opposite stairwell.
“Mom?” he said again. Sharon had almost completed shutting the door.
“You were calling for me?” she asked, peeking through the door, keeping her body out of sight.
“Uhm, mom?” Scott was puzzled.
“Your friends went downstairs,” she stammered, wishing she had told them she would admit knowing they were there.”
“You saw them?”
“Well… Z- Trevor knocked, ” Sharon shrugged, “And explained you were on your way home. I suggested they go watch TV in the basement, but I don’t know who all is over,” she paused, “Is there a problem? I was considering going for a run.” Scott relaxed visibly.
“No, mom,” he paused, “I just hoped you weren’t uncomfortable.”
“Because they’re black?” she asked with a laugh, “I hang out with lots of black students at school,” she managed not to blush or giggle at that, “But next time you might let me know first. Aren’t you coming to church?” Scott shrugged.
“I talked to dad, and he said he wasn’t going to be home, so I didn’t think we were going.”
“You should invite your friends,” Sharon suggested without thinking about it, “We could all go, and then have dinner.”
“I don’t think they’d be interested,” Scott said, we’re just going to eat and see that new Accelerated Anger movie.”
“OK,” Sharon said in obvious frustration, “I guess we were bound to get too busy to keep doing a family Christmas Eve.”
“We’ll be home before midnight,” Scott said defensively, and Sharon managed a smile.
“Home by 11,” she said, wondering if she would be home by then. “Go have fun with your friends, but be safe,” she said, then closed the door as Scott went down the staircase she had just come up.
Sighing, Sharon glanced at her disheveled appearance in the mirror. She wiped at her mouth self-consciously, wondering if the smears would clean out of her nice clothes. Glancing at the clock, she gasped, wishing she had time for a shower before she and Kelly went wherever they were headed. Tucking the stained clothes in the hamper, once again cupping a hand over her leaking sex, Sharon hobbled into the bathroom and douched, trying not to get distracted even when her clitoris sparked in response and resurgent need. Satisfied, she was cleaned up, Sharon slipped the tube of KY Jelly that she had bought while gift shopping in case Zeke demanded she come visit him at work again, squeezing a generous amount into her sex before repeating the process at her bottom. Whatever Dave was planning, she did not want to be too tender to sit down when they got home to celebrate Christmas eve.
She selected a thong with a lined, slightly wider crotch and the once tight jeans, pouting that it did not hug her ass like it had when she had bought it. She chose a padded cotton bra and a V-neck blouse, grabbed a North Face fleece, 3″ heels, and her clutch purse. After tucking her cell into it, the recently used white wife hurried down the stairs, pausing in the kitchen. She hoped Kelly was not late getting back, worrying how Dave would react if they were not where they were supposed to be at five.
It was just after 4:30 and Sharon was considering texting Dave when she saw a silver gray car turn into their drive. She hurried out, not bothering to shout a good-bye to Scott, who she could hear laughing in the basement with the boys who had so recently been using her like a common slut. She shivered, admitting that at least part of the time that was exactly what she had been.
Kelly lowered her window, motioning for Sharon to climb in behind her, and Sharon did without ever thinking about the simple truth that she was trustingly climbing into a total stranger’s car. Without so much as a nod, the young man deftly backed out of their drive and pulled away.
“Did you have a good day?” Kelly asked, turning to look back at Sharon, who could only shrug.
“Wait,” Kelly said, looking at Sharon critically, “I know that look… You got fucked.” Sharon blushed but nodded. “How… Who?”
“Zeke brought friends over,” Sharon managed, stopping at that.
“While Scott and Catherine were home?!”
“No,” Sharon shook her head, “Well, not at first.”
“My son was less than ten feet away while I was putting out to two strangers.” Sharon squirmed in her seat, further embarrassed that talking about it was getting her hot. The driver checked her once for a long second in the mirror, then put his attention back on the road. “Thank God he didn’t realize who it was his friends were fucking,” she finished with total sincerity. The thought of being caught doing that… Sharon shuddered. “Uhm, where are we headed,” she asked when Kelly did not ask for the gory details. Kelly opened her mouth as if to answer.
“It’s a surprise,” the young black man said in a fluid baritone.” Kelly shut her mouth and turned back, looking out the windshield and the side window.
“And are introductions out of order?” Sharon was piqued at the boy’s curt manner. His face turned to hers in the rear view mirror once again, “I’m Sharon,” she continued, “Kelly and I are BZ Sisters at State.”
“He knows that, silly,” Kelly laughed, “He took me around to visit some of the alumni today.” Sharon nodded, assuming she knew what that was about. “I think I have an internship arranged for the summer.” She beamed at Sharon, “Can I crash with you if I get it?” Sharon found herself smiling at the idea and she nodded without hesitation. She decided not to ask just what getting the internship required, or what Kelly would be doing at work. She had a pretty good idea on both accounts, and wondered if she should be looking to do something like that when school was out… She would have to ask Dave about it.
Looking at her friend, she could understand why Scott would be trying to get her to notice him. Kelly was beautiful and funny and smart, and she exuded a sexuality that Sharon did not think had been apparent when she had first met her friend. She wondered if other people noticed the same thing in her, which was more than a little worrisome, considering many of her friends would be bold enough to ask. She reminded herself none of the ladies had seemed shocked or puzzled about a ‘new Sharon’ when they had gotten together after Thanksgiving. She was glad they would be having another get together during her break, so she could see if anyone seemed to notice anything.
The car was comfortable and quiet, and the young man at the wheel was confident and smoothly wove through the traffic on the highway, heading into the city instead of looping to the south. Sharon was a little surprised to see they were going almost 90.
“Uhm, isn’t that a little fast?” she asked. The young man shrugged.
“Maybe. But if 5-0 doesn’t complain, it don’t matter.”
“But you could get stopped?”
“I got you two for insurance if that happens,” he answered with a leer, and Sharon twitched, her clit pulsing with a TWANG at the abrupt mental image of her on her knees blowing a state trooper on the side of the highway. Shaking the image away, she scolded herself; the driver was just kidding, police did not behave that way. She pressed the heel of her right hand against her sex, wondering how she could be so impossibly horny; mad at herself for being so insatiable, and angry and embarrassed by the pointed glance the driver gave her that he seemed to know she was considering masturbating there in the back seat of his car. She told herself it was her imagination– Kelly was completely unaware.
The driver pressed a button on the steering wheel and the car was instantly filled with the bass heavy riff of a hip hop number Sharon and Kelly had danced to regularly. Sharon licked her lips, remembering the last time they had been together on stage, and how alive she had felt, making Kelly writhe and scream in pleasure in front of a hundred odd men. TWANG. She bit her lip, forcing herself to pay attention to the monotony of the passing concrete barriers to the right of the sedan, and the empty tracks of the rail yard west of the city. As they came into downtown, the young man deftly slid up the left exit under the convention center, and Sharon momentarily absurdly flashed on her last trip to the nearby Auditorium. Chris had taken the family to see the traveling Wicked show. She giggled, wondering if they were going to see whatever was playing for the holiday.
The driver looked back at her, and she was sure he wondered about her, even though she could not see his eyes through the dark glasses. She almost growled at him, she was suddenly so angry that he had interrupted her memory… or fantasy… or whatever it had been. She smiled, but it was cruel, the blonde housewife imagining riding the young driver as he begged her to stop.
She blinked and looked around as the sedan slowed, turning into a small parking lot south of a five story brick building. She glanced up at the neon sign on the building’s corner: ‘Hot Rockets’ it read, with a cartoon missile being ridden by a busty blonde blowing a huge pink bubble over the bright red letters. There was a spot reserved for the little car, and Sharon did not protest when the driver hurried them inside. Each step between the car and the entrance, she was sure a passing car would be friends who would see her. The persistent willingness to ruin her life fueled her anger, and she glared at the big bouncers riding stools to either side of the club entrance.
“What. The fuck. Are we doing here?” she hissed at Kelly, who seemed totally at ease with the situation. Her young lover shrugged.
“Dave said to be here,” Kelly pointed to the poster over the door into the club. It showed she and Sharon spinning on the pole, with smaller photos at the bottom as men tucked bills into their G-strings, the women jutting their bottoms lewdly over the edge of the stage, of the women intertwined, each with a leg straight up, arms barely covering their bare chests, and a soulful kiss that was more then just the act, closer to the end of the women’s ground work at Go’s. Sharon stared at the poster in horror; it was obviously her in two of the pictures. Someone was going to see. She turned, realizing that the windows above the door meant that people driving north could see…
“That has to come down!” she nearly screamed at the bouncers and Kelly. Everyone stopped, looking at the unhinged blonde who looked like she might climb the wall to reach the big flyer.
“Whoa, whoa whoa,” Dave said, coming out of a hidden door opposite the cashier’s booth. He draped his arms around Sharon and Kelly, maneuvering them back toward the passage he had just exited, “What seems to be the problem, Shar?”
“That poster,” Sharon did not move right away, “That has to come down. Someone will see.”
“That’s the general idea,” Dave rolled his eyes at Kelly, “We wanted your fans to know there was going to be a special show.”
“Chris could see… Or someone who knows us!” Dave snorted.
“A car passing at 30 miles per hour? The worst they would think is that it looks like you, Sharon. You’re a suburban housewife and mother here, not a porn star.” Sharon spun out of Dave’s grasp.
“I’m not a porn star,” she nearly shouted. “Fuck you for saying it! You know I’m not. I just wanted to go to school,” Sharon’s eyes were wide, “I just want to protect my family.”
“And you are,” Dave assured her, herding both women down the hall, “This protects your family.”
“Bullshit!” Sharon was not backing down. “This will ruin everything.”
“No one here knows you,” Dave insisted, “And we all know this is not just about protecting your family, any more.”
“You bastard!” Sharon stopped, eyes wide, and reversed course, “I have to get home.” Dave swatted Kelly’s bottom and the surprised young brunette dutifully stepped through a curtain at the end of the hall. Dave easily caught Sharon’s elbow, halting her retreat. “Let go of me!” Sharon yanked her arm with surprising force, freeing herself momentarily. Dave caught her arm again, though, getting a handful of her hair with his other hand. Sharon responded by kicking at him, and the big frat brother barely managed to lift his knee, blocking her attempt to reach his groin.
“Enough!” he spun the smaller spitfire of a woman against one of the narrow hall’s walls. “Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“I already regret this!” Sharon almost wailed, “You bastards have ruined my life.”
“Uh-huh,” Dave said, “It’s why you were coming like mad in your basement not an hour ago.” Sharon’s breath caught. How could he know about that. “Face it, you’re hooked on black cock,” he continued, “You may not want to cheat, but if we weren’t providing you with it now, you’d be out looking for some satisfaction where hubby will find out.” Sharon shivered in his grip. She wondered if what he was saying was true. She hated the way her body was responding to what was happening and what he was saying. How had she become such a slut?
He half pulled, half dragged her through the curtain, pushing her unceremoniously into a nearby director’s seat. Sharon realized it was the dressing room. There were more vanities then there were at Go’s, but most were empty. She saw that Kelly was already in costume, a matching outfit neatly folded on the vanity to her left, where Dave had seated Sharon.
“Care to tell me what’s gotten into you of late?” Dave did not let up, and had not let go, his hand still gripping Sharon’s hair. “Better speak up,” he warned, “There are always worse things you could be doing…” Sharon sniffed, and glared straight ahead, refusing to look Dave in the eye.
“We’re dancing too much,” she said, “There’s not enough time to even eat… We’re either dancing or exercising or tanning or fucking TA’s.” She tugged at her loose jeans, then pointed out how loose her bra had become, “I’m wasting away… Some days I think I’m sick.”
“That’s why you’re mad?” Dave asked pointedly. Sniffing angrily, Sharon nodded. “Bullshit,” the big frat brother snorted, “I know what’s happening to you now. You don’t need to lie anymore.” Sharon frowned in puzzlement.
“What are you talking about?” she said, “I wanted a break for Christmas. Go said we could take the time off…”
“Go doesn’t call all the shots,” Dave warned, “And you’ve gotten a break… and you’ve gotten to cum in your own house like you haven’t since I was there with you.” Sharon blushed at that, and her clit sparked hungrily. How could he know about that, she wondered, getting angry at knowing so little that was going on in her own life. She stamped a foot.
“This wasn’t part of the deal,” Sharon changed tack, “You never said I’d be dancing in my home town.”
“Stripping in your home town,” Dave corrected her with a cruel sneer, “You’ll be stripping and you’ve been doing more, so cut the bullshit.” Sharon sucked in a breath, glaring at the younger man angrily. “And that’s still not it,” he let a little anger creep into his voice, “I Hate it when BZ Bitches think they can lie to us.” Sharon blinked, stepping back in surprise.
“I’m not lying!” she retorted angrily, “I didn’t ask to have sex with those boys today.”
“You didn’t stop it from happening, either,” Dave pointed out, aware that the helpless housewife never really had that choice. “You are going to perform tonight,” he warned her, “The sooner you start, the sooner I’ll have you home. Or I can just leave and you two can find your own way back home.” Sharon looked ready to attack him. He pulled her Demoness mask out of the bag he had brought along, “And if you give me any more lip… If you lie when I ask you something, you won’t get to wear this.”
Sharon hated the relief she felt at seeing the mask… at her willingness to give in and dance if he gave her the mask. Damn it, she was actually wet at the prospect, she realized with a fresh sense of outrage. She reached for the mask, but Dave yanked it back.
“I asked you why you’re mad.” Sharon shrugged. Thought about it for a moment, and shrugged again. “That’s not an answer,” Dave warned, and moved to put the mask back in the pack.
“Wait!” Sharon demanded with another useless foot stomp. “I don’t know,” she added plaintively after almost another minute, “I just… I’m just angry more suddenly.” Dave stared at her for a moment.
It was donning on the frat member that quite likely their prize bitch truly did not understand. He shook his head, amazed that anyone could be so foolish, but relieved as well– it was how they harnessed so many young women, after all. He kept hold of the mask, but retrieved a zip lock bag he had brought along, holding it up in front of the married blonde sex toy.
“Does this look familiar?” he asked, even as Sharon grabbed at it. He snatched it back, then curious as to what she would do, he let her get hold of it on her second attempt. Nearly tearing the seal open, Sharon got a bit of the oily material on two fingers, and not caring that Dave and Kelly were watching, she opened her jeans and expertly applied the ointment over her clit, sweeping down along her still aroused labia.
“How long have you been using that,” he asked pointedly. Sharon froze, realizing for the first time since seeing the bag that neither Shawn nor Dave had known about it.
“Where did you find this?” she answered automatically, “Were you going through my things?”
“How long have you been using that, little Bitch,” Dave said pointedly. Sharon twisted her mouth, and he could tell she wanted to argue. Instead, her shoulders dropped.
“Since the night the football team used me.”
“The football party?” Her eyes flashed.
“No. The night you let the other school use me, after we lost the game.” Dave chose not to point out she had not been with him that night.
“Where’d you get it?” He suspected he knew the answer.
“MarKing… after they were… when it was over. I’m about out,” she added unnecessarily, “Can you get me more?”
“You’ve been using it for weeks?” Dave was shocked, but it explained so much. Sharon nodded. “Why in the fuck are you using it?” he was glad he had chosen to include Shaun via his cell phone. His partner would find a way to get back at the asshole who had intentionally put their golden goose in jeopardy.
“It helps after… so I’m not so raw.”
“You dumb bitch,” Dave growled, “It works better when you’re already rubbed raw. Why did you believe a word that envious nigger said?” Sharon was taken aback by the language, even though the frat members used it all the time, usually as if it was a term of endearment.
“He was nice to me,” she suddenly felt like a little girl again, rather than the Amazon woman ready to rip Dave’s throat out… she hated the way her emotions see sawed, but had been dealing with that since they had first ensnared her, “He told me it would help me feel better.” Almost as an afterthought, she insolently added, “It has.”
“That ain’t all it’s done,” Dave rolled his eyes. “You are a pock-marked bitch right now,” he pointed at the acne marring Sharon’s pale chest. Sharon assumed he was changing the subject.
“I know,” she frowned, “It’s awful… I have some lotion that’s supposed to help, but it’s everywhere… I think it’s from sweating in all the make up when we’re dancing.” Dave shook his head.
“Sharon,” he paused, “Kelly dances as much and she’s fine.” Sharon frowned. “You’ve lost some weight we don’t want you to lose,” he added pointedly. Sharon glanced at her chest, and blushed.’
“It’s just that I’m dancing too much and not eating enough. My pants are loose, too,” she pulled at the waistline as proof.
“Kelly says you’ve been more aggressive, too.” Sharon frowned and shook her head.
“I don’t think so,” she pouted, looking to Kelly, “Are you upset with me?” Kelly shook her head, eyes wide, obviously worried about Sharon and what was happening. Sharon looked back at Dave, glaring at him. “What are you saying,” she paused, “That’s not just because I’m using an ointment on my cunt.” She was taken aback at so easily saying that to him.
“Sharon,” Dave shook his head, “Take off your pants.” Blushing, Sharon did as he had ordered. He pointed, and she dutifully dropped her thong as well. He crooked a finger, leading her to one of the rooms many full length mirrors. “Look,” he said, and Sharon eyed the nude blonde in the mirror. The nipple ring seemed to be in the right breast because of the reflection. The new BZ navel ring hung just below her navel, and emphasized the partial definition of six pack that had appeared in her flat abdomen. The thin vee pale blonde pubic hair seemed to direct her attention to her prominent hood and jutting clitoris. Her eyes moved to the defined muscles of her thighs and calves, the latter accentuated by her heels.
Dave held up his camera phone, and after initially thinking he was taking a picture, Sharon realized he was holding up an image of her from some months before. She absently realized she was standing in Shaun and Dave’s bedroom at the frat… it was shortly after they had mad her their own, when she had realized she had no choice but to do what they wanted.
She blinked in surprise at the changes, and not just in the new piercings. She had known the six pack was new– she had never had such definition before, even when she had been exercising almost religiously. To her dismay, her breasts were visibly smaller, and hung lower than in the picture on the phone. She tried to convince herself it was just the angle, but her nipples were now clearly more than an inch lower compared to her clavicles, and the volume of each was obviously decreased.
Sharon gasped, though, seeing not the change in her pubic hair, but below… Her clitoris seemed huge now, compared to the way it had been. She could not believe it, and reached down, touching herself. That triggered the familiar ‘TWANG’ and the openly rubbed herself for several seconds before gaining control, and looking at Dave.
“I didn’t know that could happen from having so much sex,” she said, covering her sex with one hand. Dave seemed to choke at that.
“Kelly,” he barked, “Get over here… Get naked.” The little brunette quickly complied, and Sharon found herself looking at her lover’s tight bodied reflection beside her own. A wave of almost demanding arousal swept through her, and Sharon imagined turning and pulling Kelly close, kissing her despite Dave’s presence. Shaking in new fear at such a demanding, aggressive thought, she looked back at Dave.
“You dumb slut,” Dave shook his head, “That’s not from too much sex… That’s from this,” he held up the bag. “It’s steroids. You’ve been taking testosterone for weeks.” Sharon was horrified. She remembered the various ads on television… it could cause cancer. Women were not supposed to handle it, she did not think.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, even as horror and fear threatened to become rage, “That bastard!” she could picture the seemingly concerned MarKing giving her the bag. “Why!?” Dave shrugged.
“Other chapters of BZ are jealous that we have such a great group of BZ Bitches,” he told both women, motioning for them to get into their costumes. Sharon obeyed without considering it, her head swirling at what she had learned. “No more of this!” Dave said pointedly, throwing the nearly empty bag into a trash can. Sharon nodded, even while part of her wondered if she could get the bag out without his noticing. She was not sure why. “Your skin will clear up, we’ll get your boobs taken care of, you’ll be fine.” Sharon nodded again, her focus on the mask in his hand, rather then what he was saying.
“Thank you,” she managed when her costume was in place, the quick release tabs double checked, “Uhm, can I have my mask?”
“Little bitch,” Dave snickered, “You never give up. Sorry, but no. Besides,” he interrupted her argument, “There’s nobody in there you would know anyway.”
“How can you be so sure?” she asked angrily. Dave snorted.
“How many of your friends are single men who would be lonely and visit a strip club on Christmas eve.” Sharon had no ready answer for that. “You behave yourself, and maybe you can wear it for the next set.” And with that Dave turned and left the women to finish with their make up before performing on a stage they had never seen before.
Safely out of earshot through the hidden doors at the front of the club, Dave fished his phone out and checked. Sure enough, Shaun was still on.
“You heard?” he asked.
“That arrogant motherfucker!” Shaun was still spitting nails. “It’s a good thing Go got suspicious.” Dave chose not to argue about that. “I’ve already got a call in to his office and his chapter President.
“That asshole has to pay,” Dave agreed, “But it may not be so bad after all.”
“What are you talking about?” Shaun was clearly not past being mad.
“Well, her skin will clear up. I know just who can take care of her breasts, and the clit looks good.”
“Did she handle it well?”
“She was spitting nails, but that will go away, too… Before long we’ll have our meek little housewife back, but with a prize winning clit.”
“I guess,” Shaun was taking some convincing.
“And that smoky voice? It won’t go away either.”
“Good point, D,” Shaun conceded, “You’re right, I guess… it’ll be OK But MarKing,”
“MarKing is going to wish he hadn’t fucked with us,” Dave agreed, “Gotta go, man, their set’s starting,” Shaun heard the muffled beat of the music change.
“Dave,” he said, “Don’t push her too hard, I don’t want to read in the paper about the stripper who whacked a room full of horny guys from ‘roid rage.”
“A’ight,” Dave snorted, “Though watching her tear some of these guys up might almost be worth it.” Shaun could barely hear him over the heavy bass. “I’ll talk to you later.” He did not bother responding to Dave, hanging up, and wondering what the footage would be like; he had never seen a ‘gentlemen’s club’ that was not wired like it was a casino… except with the cameras better hidden. Sure they had to share the girls’ take with Go and the owner of the club where they were dancing… he smiled, remembering the guy’s name, Percy Biggens. Every second the girls were there, though, BZ had the rights to the multiple cameras that would catch their act and the holiday festivities.
Dave pushed the heavy black out curtains apart, ducking into the dimly lit club just as his women sauntered onto the main stage. The crowd was thin, not unexpected for Christmas Eve… even single horny guys usually had family or friends to hang with this night. He also knew lots of the girls were off, leaving only the destitute, desperate, and rookies at most clubs. Biggins had jumped at Dave’s suggestion, in part because several of the worn but still usable BZ Bitches had been through his club in the last years. The BZ Bitches had been in service long before Dave or Shaun arrived, a perk of being in the frat. They had merely improved on the system.
Counting, Dave guessed it would be no problem for the girls to handle their duties. As if they had a choice. He considered checking to be sure that they did what had been promised, closing the door once his girls went on stage. The privacy and security fence that screened the impressive downtown parking slab had already been pulled almost closed, and the ‘come hither’ flashing signs that were on when the place was open had been turned off. Percy knew how it worked; he had his hard core regulars here, some probably thanks to a brief ‘guess what’ call they had received during the day, which was fine with Dave. He had warned the savvy club owner they only had 2 hours. saw Percy in a little box at the far side of the club, reminiscent of Go’s perch, right down to the mirrored glass behind and above him.
“And now,” the DJ affected a Michael Buffer tone, “From down the road to help you forget your holiday blues, “Give a Hot Rocket’s welcome to Fallen Angels!” Spotlights hit the masked blonde and brunette as they strutted onto the stage, Sharon in her red and black demoness costume following Kelly in the ‘virginal angel costume. The specially fitted wings on Sharon’s bustier spread out as she lifted her shoulders, throwing her head back to match the scream of the heavy metal track that began to pulse.
Catching Kelly’s hand, Sharon spun the smaller girl around, and Kelly raised her free arm as if in fright, then broke away, leaping to the first pole and climbing it as she spun. Sharon moved in under, acting as a spotter while clawing at the younger woman’s transparent white mini skirt. When Kelly froze, striking a sexy position high up on the pole, the blonde housewife executed her own turn on the pole beneath, grinding against it suggestively, before turning away to bend at the waist, the thick brass centered on the crack in her ass. She flexed her knees, seemingly masturbating against the pole. Shivering, she paused, looking out at the men in front of her and licked her lips suggestively.
Watching, Dave could understand why Go said their captive housewife brought in business like no other three girls. The previously listless crowd was watching the women intently, cheering at Sharon’s change in expression as she resumed humping the pole. Biting her lip, Sharon braced her hands on the floor, doing an angled handstand, keeping her ass, and then her crotch against the metal. When she was high enough, she curled her right leg around, flexing at the waist, lifting her body up away from the floor as she spun beneath Kelly, who was turning the opposite direction, head up. Sharon groped her breasts before catching the pole with one hand and reaching up, snagging Kelly’s skirt with her other.
She released her legs, reversing position before again catching the brass with her calves and ankles, spinning again as she slipped lower until her ass came to rest on the stage. In her hand, she held Kelly’s skirt. The man shouted encouragement.
As the song ended, Sharon prowled the stage edge, offering each man holding up a bill a glimpse of tit as they tucked them into her bustier… Well, at least if the bill was more than a single, Dave noticed with a smile. She had learned how to leave them hungry. By her second pass, it was all 5′s and 10′s being waved. Kelly slipped gracefully down from the pole, moving farther onto the stage, looking about as if she was preparing to flee. The music changed, a heave hip hop number, at which point Sharon snapped her head over, ‘discovering’ the fleeing angel. Kelly leaped for the far pole, but Sharon was faster, catching hold of the brass above the brunette’s hand, and the pair spun together, Sharon smiling wildly, Kelly’s eyes closed in apparent fear. Legs intertwined, they continued the spin, leaning out and waving their arms theatrically as the movement slowed and together they sank once again to the floor.
As Kelly turned away to flee, Sharon caught hold of her wings, which came away to be flung expertly back away from the patrons. And Kelly’s top popped free in the same moment, baring her breasts. The ‘shy’ brunette covered herself ineffectually, as Sharon pulled her close, hands knocking Kelly’s aside as she roughly mauls the brunette’s bare chest. Kissing Kelly’s neck, Sharon threw her head back, smiling cruelly as Kelly’s mouth dropped open in apparent arousal, head lolling back against the blonde.
Sharon turned while rising, pacing around before Kelly, who shook her head as if to banish the impure thoughts she was having, She covered her chest again, and frowning, Sharon pauses, ripping away the front of her own costume, leaving the black wings on , but baring her breasts to Kelly and the crowd. Hips pumping to the music, she squatted, lifting Kelly’s hand to her pierced nipple, then pretending to ‘claw’ Kelly’s. The brunette reacted as if in pain, the movement stripping away the nipple colored pasty she had been wearing over her nipples, making it seem as if Sharon had just magically pierced them. Her head fell back, body undulating, hips finding the rhythm of the song as Sharon rose, hips and ass working as she went around the stage’s edge once more.
The patrons– regulars, Dave was sure– were pressing against the rail, eager to get some attention from the black owned housewife. When she had made a complete circuit, shimmying out of her micro skirt, leaving just the thong, demon wings, a belt, and heels, Sharon came back to Kelly, who had been working her end of the stage, bumping and grinding, seemingly ‘overcome’ by the music and Sharon’s touch. Without preamble the older blonde latched onto one of Kelly’s breasts, suckling hungrily, while her hands roamed over the brunette’s petite body. The men cheered as they were teased with glimpses of what lay under Kelly’s thong.
As the third more upbeat number started, Sharon straddled Kelly, and the women did an impressive tandem bump and grind, further enflaming the crowd. As the chorus started, Sharon bent, and the women kissed passionately, before Sharon did a brief handstand, legs splayed in an inverted split, the crotch of her thong dark with her arousal. She spun her hips a half turn, then came down on all fours, her knees beyond Kelly’s head. Pulling herself over the smaller woman by bracing her hands on Kelly’s knees, Sharon glanced at the crowd, ass twitching her intention. There was a collective roar of encouragement, & then reaching down the blonde ripped her thong away and pivoted her lower body forward, driving her sex against ‘the angel’s’ face.
Both women twitched and writhed in time to the music before Sharon threw her head back, crying out in a feigned (Dave wondered) release before reaching down, ripping Kelly’s thong away. There was a collective pause, as two dozen male eyes were riveted to the young woman’s neatly femiscaped sex. Sharon had held her thong, the only ‘disposable’ part of their costumes, & hurling one each to the left and right, she plunged her face between Kelly’s thighs. Dave knew this was where Go had told him this team beat any other pair he had ever put together to dance. Instead of feigning the attraction and the sex, Kelly and Sharon went at it, spurred on by the surrounding crowd, which subliminally he guessed was very like performing at the frat.
And the testosterone’s effects on Sharon were never more obvious. She was the aggressor, taking what she wanted, driving Kelly to a powerful orgasm, and continuing without pause. The men, used to the usual three song set, cheered when a fourth song started. It seemed that the women were unaware of their admirers, leaning close over the rails lining the stage. Bills were tossed at the women, some bouncing off of Sharon’s back, and one tangling in Kelly’s splayed jet black hair. Sharon’s hands had roamed over her body and Kelly’s, and after feigned fear, hands pressed spread wide against the stage for the first verse after Sharon’s assault, Kelly was reciprocating.
When the first chorus began, the busty brunette lifted head and shoulders. Sharon leaned forward, and their passionate 69 changed to a seated exchange, the married blonde’s ass jutting high in the air. At the end of the chorus, Kelly leaned, and a moment later she was on top, no longer theatrically eating the blonde, but instead riding Sharon’s face, hands roaming her body, pinching her pierced nipples, reveling in the debauchery. She paused only as the second chorus began, looking about as if realizing for the first time there were spectators… and what she was doing. She leapt to her feet, trying to run off stage.
The ‘belt’ Sharon had been wearing had been deftly attached to ‘Kelly’s choker, and it payed out as the brunette reached the edge of the stage and disappeared, triggering several loud protests. Sharon came gracefully to her feet, pausing to ‘finish herself off’ with her fingers before the crowd, before holding up her left hand, and showing the other end of what had become Kelly’s ‘leash.’ Snapping it, the coil she raised raced off stage, and then Sharon gave an exaggerated pull, and Kelly was ‘dragged’ back into the men’s view, clutching at the choker around her neck. When she turned to face the ‘Demoness’, the move activated the wings she had quickly changed out off stage, and her new black fletching spread behind her shoulders as Sharon’s had at the set’s beginning.
Abandoning her half hearted attempt to escape, Kelly paused when Sharon quit pulling, looking about imperiously at the men eyeing them and cheering. Tossing her hair, she strutted across the stage, pausing for a heels high turn on the close pole and leaving the ‘leash’ there as she continued, meting Sharon beyond the far pole at the rounded front of the stage. Sharon lifted her chin when the smaller brunette paused before her. Reaching up, Kelly caught Sharon’s hair, then pulled the older woman down, and they kissed, legs entwined, grinding against each other standing up, wings moving as the final song closed.
They stepped apart, bowed to the front and both sides, Sharon slapping Kelly’s ass when she turned away from the blonde to the left. Each made a full pass of the stage, picking up the various bills and pausing to let the men tuck additional bills into the garter each wore for that specific purpose. Neither was good at keeping the ‘veils’ that had been left by passing wait staff to ‘shield them’ from the men in place– they had never used them at Go’s. Their ease at being nude around strangers just increased their audience’s fervor.
Only when they were safely back stage did one of the new ‘regular’ dancers warn them they could ‘get the place closed down’ if they didn’t keep covered up when interacting with the customers. Percy had come in– like Go, his presence in the girls’ dressing room caused no commotion, it was so common– and he laughed, swatting the pouting dishwater blonde on the ass.
“Get out there and earn your keep, Pink.” Dave, who had followed Percy in realized the young performer had ink matching the singer. He wondered if she had started out with her hair dyed and cut in the too boyish bob. Chastised, the young dancer cast a final jealous glare at Kelly and Sharon before she turned on a 5″ heel and went through the curtain to join the first girl who had started the next set.
Percy looked at the visiting dancers, both of whom were flushed with arousal, standing calmly before him in just the bits of their costumes that were left at the end of their set. Damn, he had a great job. “Great work out there,” he smiled, “Though Pink is right… if this wasn’t a special night you and I could get in trouble getting that close to the guests without being covered up.”
“Who are you kidding?” Dave snorted, “Come the new year they won’t let your girls show anything.” Percy shook his head,
“Don’t remind me.” The city council was happy taking the tens of thousands he paid each year in tax. But when the city had built the new arena north of the highway, even his clean and well kept establishment four blocks south of the highway had been too close. ‘Progressive’ legislators had pushed through a bill banning nudity even in the juice bars. As of the New Year it would be a ‘lingerie club.’ And he expected to lose more than half of his revenue. But he was always looking for ways to spin things his own way, “We’re putting in a gym upstairs. It’s going to offer cheap ‘pole dancing exercise routines.”
“Great way to recruit new talent,” Dave agreed with a knowing smile. They might have to provide Percy with some of the special sauce they used to help ensnare the girls.
“It ain’t lemonade, but it ain’t out of business, either,” Percy allowed. “‘Sides, I got a shop opening up just outside the city limits west… It’ll pull the kids from the university. And we’re opening a shop east of here, too, where the others went the last time the City Council got uppity. How long do you think before they’ll be letting things get a little more lax to help entertain the various conventions they’ll have going through?” Dave nodded his agreement, “So we’ll keep this place as it is downstairs… the girls starting out can learn the ropes and not feel quite like they’ve been thrown to the wolves.” He glanced at Sharon especially, “You sure you’re married, girl? You move like a natural.” Sharon blushed but held up her hand, showing off her ring. Percy shook his head in feigned puzzlement. “So this is home for you?” The blush deepened. After a moment Sharon nodded. “Hell, maybe you can come exercise here,” he smiled, “Maybe even help teach the new girls so they can pull a crowd like you two.” He shook his head, “How much did you get?” Both women shrugged then, and with Dave and Percy they straightened, stacked, then counted the various bills. It came to $283. “That’s about twice what the girls usually pull,” he said, honestly impressed, “And that’s just your first set.”
“We can’t stay all night,” Sharon said haughtily, “We have to be home to go to church.” The club owner just snorted at that.
“Okay, girlie,” he shook his head, “Dave said you were a little spitfire…” whatever else he was thinking he did not share, “Well, you know you got to let these little girls have a turn… Pink may actually make a bit tonight following that rev up. We’ll get you back on stage in an hour, then you can do your finale in two hours.”
“We’ll go on in 45 minutes and do two songs in ninety minutes or you’ll have to settle for two sets,” Sharon said angrily. Percy chewed at his lip for a moment.
“OK,” he bobbed his head, “You do your next set and a shirt set in 45 minutes, and we’ll call it good.” Sharon nodded, pretending she knew what he meant by a shirt set. Only when Percy and Dave had filed out did she look over at Kelly.
“That wasn’t bad at all,” the brunette giggled, “God you can get me off so fast it’s scary.” Sharon smiled, leaning over to kiss Kelly, ignoring the looks of the other dancers in the room.
“That’s funny,” she murmured, “I was thinking the same about you.” She absently began to remove the rest of the costume, something Go had provided when he had chosen their name. “I wonder if they’d have been okay if we’d stopped dancing and just went at it.”
“I thought we WERE just going at it,” Kelly giggled again, pressing a palm against her mons. The raw sensuality of the move made Sharon’s clit pulse, TWANG. She shivered, and wondered when that would stop after she stopped the damn hormone cream. And then was horrified to realize she was wondering if she wanted to stop using it. They collected the bits and pieces of the costumes, carefully packing them in the large ‘Dream Dancer’ duffle Go had provided them, replete with ‘their’ logo on the pockets. Sharon blinked at the silhouette of the women at the point of their first set when they’re standing, intertwined, grinding. Arousal sparked again and she struggled to push the need away, glad that in the photo patch she was wearing her ‘Demoness’ mask… She doubted Chris would recognize her, even if her bare breast and pierced nipple were peeking around Kelly’s raised arm. She tried to remember when they had posed for that photo.
Kelly selected one of the many VS thong panties, still in the cellophane wrapper, and slipped it on, handing another to Sharon. “Shar,” her friend and lover asked, “What should we do next?” Sharon shrugged.
“You choose, I think these guys will love whatever we do.” Kelly giggled, “They were a little starved for real performance.” She looked around, “I don’t think this is the A-team… guess that’s why we’re here.”
“We’re here so Dave and Shaun can remind me there’s no escape,” Sharon pouted, instantly regretting what she had said. She hugged the younger woman, “I’m glad you’re here or I don’t think I could do this.” Kelly looked up, nipping another kiss at Sharon.
“What is a shirt set?” Sharon asked, then looked around at the scattered dancers lounging in the room.
“Anyone want to tell us what your boss meant when he said a shirt set?”…
Sharon reflected when it was done they were spared some of the hassles of the shirt set… Usually, they were told, a dancer would strip down, then hand out tickets as she collected ‘gifts’ from the patrons. The lucky number got to come up on stage and ‘paint’ the girl, front and back, then don a plain white T-shirt and the dancer would press against him one way or another, leaving him a unique souvenir. It seemed the girls could buy the paint and T-shirts from the club for the routine, which was done once or twice a night, took an extra set space, but always brought in more money.
When Sharon and Kelly asked Dave, he had ‘checked’ with Percy and assured them they did not have to buy the paint or the shirts that night. But he had also neglected to tell them EVERYONE was going to get a shirt.
Kelly had selected what Sharon called their ‘dueling pianos’ set, which included just that… pianos playing against one another faster and louder, which the women mirrored by seeming to compete against one another on opposite poles. They switched after circling the edge at the end of the first song, repeating the ‘dares’ and ‘one ups’ through Rocco Delucca’s ‘Colorful,’ which was mercifully short. After collecting once again from the men pressed shoulder to shoulder along the edge, the women started together with another sensual exchange that fired the men up before they separated and moved around the stage, showing themselves off like they did at Snake Eyes, not caring about ‘the law,’ to ‘Porn Star Dancing’ by My Darkest Days. The risk they were taking by exposing themselves never crossed either woman’s mind, and they had collected more money by the end of the set then they had for the more energetic first appearance.
Panting, sweaty from the exertion, the girls waited arm in arm after their set. Percy came up onto the stage at the end, stepping between Kelly and Sharon and lifting their hands, clearly unconcerned that both were topless as he asked if his ‘favorite guests’ hadn’t enjoyed his little Christmas present. The men cheered, a few additional bills tossed onto the stage as Percy continued that it was not often that a potential traveling headline duo visited with the changes in the city’s laws. That comment triggered a spate of hisses and boos, Percy had deftly turned back into cheers by getting the women to spin, assuring them he would always bring quality performers in. A waitress came to the rail, and Percy took the glasses of juice she offered, handing one to each of the women and taking one for himself, toasting the girls, then toasting the crowd, before adding that they had with them a Sexpo award winner and possible AVN award winner performing for them that night. The guys cheered, and Sharon blushed.
Waving his hands where they rested barely above the women’s breasts, Percy explained that to show their appreciation for the men’s support and the support of the other dancers, Kelly and Sharon had arranged for a special shirt set.
Sharon assumed he meant that both she and Kelly would be doing shirts, and laughed as she and Kelly circled the stage edge, still topless, their ‘veils’ tucked under an arm, trading carnival tickets for 5′s and 10′s. It took a minute, because Dave had brought out a box of paper tubes, which he had explained Kelly and Sharon were supposed to hand out with the tickets, but there were only a few dozen men present. Sharon giggled, watching the men jockey for positions at the rail just to get their tickets.
She and Kelly came back and Percy held a bucket out for each to draw a ticket. Then he held the microphone as they read the numbers aloud. The man holding Kelly’s ticket was a distinguished older man, gray at the temples. Sharon giggled, thinking she would never have expected to see him in a strip club. Her ‘working smile’ did not waver as the man with the ticket she had drawn jumped onto the stage, crowing in triumph. He was barely older than Dave or Shaun, wearing what had once been a white wife beater and filthy jeans. He was skinny in an unhealthy way, and seemed consumed by too much energy, with wild brown hair and wilder eyes. She did not have to look twice to think ‘meth,’ enough of the girls at Go’s had pointed them out– usually shortly before one of the bouncers escorted them out– that she did not think twice. The young man hugged her awkwardly, then stood to the side, bouncing from foot to foot.
“Well, now that we have our winners,” Percy went on, and the rest of the crowd quieted, some obviously disappointed, but all watching closely, which puzzled Sharon. She turned, to see the DJ and Pink pushing a cart out onto the stage. It held several wide mouth paint bottles from which wooden handles protruded. “I don’t know if the girls should paint each other or if the winners should get that honor…” The guy who had the ticket Sharon had drawn spun and hurried to the cart, returning with a blue and red brush in his hands. “I guess that settles that,” Percy chuckled, then cautioned, “Shoulders to waist at the front, gentlemen, and of course…”
He stepped back, and the smiling men eagerly went to work. Sharon gasped at the first touch of the cold paint, which amused the young man smearing the blue pigment thickly over her breasts. He switched to red for her abdomen, then caught her arm and turned her around. Sharon hesitated, not wanting this stranger to be so close to her when she was naked, but she saw Dave watching and complied without a word. The man switched from the brushes he had used on her chest to the small rollers, painting three stripes down each globe of her ass. “Wait,” he said, and turned her around, reaching up before Sharon knew what he was doing and wiping the paint away from her nipples with his bare fingers. He leered at Sharon at having gotten away with it, then used the edge of a brush to apply yellow paint to both before stepping back.
Percy came back out onto the stage. “I know we’re supposed to have them put the shirts on inside out,” he began, and the crowd booed, “But it’s Christmas, and we’re all friends here, so what say we do it the way the Rocket girls used to?” The room erupted with cheers, and the men took the oversized white T-shirts Percy provided, slipping them on and laying on the floor, face up. “Girls,” Percy gestured, as if Sharon and Kelly should know what to do, “Go ahead and create your Masterpieces.”
Kelly was the first to act. Giggling, she picked her drink off of the tray of paint, and downing it, she straddled the guy and dropped to her knees. Having followed suit with her drink, Sharon giggled too, thinking how much it looked like her friend was about to screw the guy right on stage. TWANG, her clit pulsed at the thought, even though her potential partner was nothing short of revolting. Kelly waited as Sharon mirrored her position over the disheveled young man. Down close to him on the floor, Sharon could tell that he had not bathed in some time. Percy and the crowd counted down from 3 and the women leaned forward, pressing themselves against the shirts and the men underneath them.
Sharon saw Kelly start to wriggle, but when she moved to follow the other woman’s example, the man’s hands caught her waist.
“Don’t,” he whispered, “I don’t want the print smeared. Sharon nodded, settling for letting her hips dance playfully, which the crowd seemed to enjoy… and which from the swelling in his pants, she knew he appreciated, too. Abruptly Percy was between them, reaching down to help the women up.
“Now usually,” other dancers were there to help the men up as Percy addressed the crowd, “We have the ladies to a little bump to put their fanny print on the shirt…” As he spoke, the other dancers carefully helped the men out of their shirts, turning them around, then putting them back on so that back was to their front. “But I was thinking we can do better for our prize winners.” The crowd was quiet, watching expectantly, “Gentlemen, go ahead and get close.” Sharon and Kelly looked around nervously as the men moved close behind them. Sharon’s prize winner caught hold of her waist, and she found herself wondering if he had unzipped… was he about to spear into her there on stage in front of so many strange men? Her body shivered at the intense arousal the thought triggered, even as she was horrified, too. He was hard, she knew, leaning over, bracing her hands on her knees.
Sharon gasped as the young man drove himself against her bottom as if he was going to pile drive her. Her body rocked, but he kept hold of her waist, and then he was grinding against her, the pressure so close to her engorged, clit she could almost get off… She whined without thinking about it when he backed off, not caring that she had seriously wondered what disease he might have to be so painfully skinny. She stood shakily, then leaned against Kelly, the BZ Bitches watching as the other dancers industriously sprayed a fixative over the paint on the shirts while Percy teased the men that they would have to shower before they got home or their wives might wonder what they had been up to.
Pulling a pair of sharpies from his pocket, he told the men to wait, and then after applying the date and his initials to the back of each shit above the women’s ‘fanny prints,’ he had Sharon and Kelly sign their ‘art’ for the winners. Sharon thought that would be the end of it, until she saw the men lining up at each side of the stage, cash in hand. The other dancers set about collecting money and handing out shirts, as Sharon realized they were going to be busy for quite awhile taking care of the patrons… only a few had returned to their seats to enjoy lap dances or to simply watch what was happening on stage.
Unlike the winners, Percy had Sharon and Kelly ‘paint each other’ for the other guests, which the women turned into a spectacle without thinking about it. And while the men got the same full body front treatment, afterwards they were instructed to squat, bend over, or kneel and the women pressed their butt against the shirt back, leaving what looked like oval angel wings at varying heights. After the third or fourth, Sharon had lost count, Percy called a halt, and the girls ‘cleaned each other up’ with hand towels wetted with cold water. They tossed back another drink, and Sharon was glad for the warmth of the alcohol in her stomach as she and Kelly resumed painting each other, then pressing themselves against one man after another.
They had stopped to clean up again three more times before the last guy in the line on each side stepped onto the stage. The women were thoroughly smeared with paint, but nobody was complaining. Somewhere along the way, the guys had started to kiss Sharon as she was wriggling on top of them, and the ever present erections pushing against her bare sex had kept her aroused and unsatisfied. Sharon saw that the last guy had already been up once– he had paint on his neck above his collar.
“You’ll want to clean that up,” she slurred and giggled, “One wasn’t good enough for you?” She was embarrassed she did not remember him being up before. He smiled, nodding at the other guy, who was also watching as she and Kelly painted each other up.
“Naw, Danny and I decided we wanted one from each of you.” Sharon smiled, pleased that she had not missed being so close to him. “You’re amazing,” the man continued, “You’ve got every guy here wishing he could take you home.”
“Sorry,” she giggled, “I have to go help Santa tonight.” The man just shrugged and Sharon stepped back from Kelly, applying a final curlicue of blue radiating from the brunette’s pierced nipples over her red smeared breasts, “There, I think Danny will have a shirt he can tell stories about.” She giggled, looking at the paint Kelly had applied, to her blue stomach, a yellow arrow pointed straight down, and what looked like letters, but were backwards to either side. “Ready?” The men flopped onto their backs. Sharon paused as she straddled the handsome man. She laughed, “You want it to be unique?” The guy nodded, and instead of straddling his waist, she moved up, throwing her leg over his head, almost pressing her sex against his face before laying down so that her breasts were against his stomach.
The guys around the room cheered as she carefully began to wriggle, not wanting to smear Kelly’s art too much. It wasn’t really a surprise when the guy’s tongue thrust up into her naked sex. She shivered an moaned, pressing her sex against him, pleased he was so adventurous, willing him to get her off. He worked her slit, then focused on her swollen clit, & she threw her head back, climaxing loudly before pushing up and collapsing to the side, still shaking from her release. The guy was smiling, his face liberally smeared with her honey.
“You are such a slut!” Kelly laughed, “Careful or they’ll all want another shirt.” Sharon just bit her lip, then leaned over, kissing the younger woman passionately. Percy told the men he hoped they liked their Christmas presents, ushering the women to the back curtain before pausing to add that he would have to see if they could find some sort of stocking stuffer.
Sharon and Kelly laughed, looking at the smeared paint coating them from neck to knee, with splatters on their face and in Sharon’s hair. Percy pointed out the shower, and the women climbed in together without hesitation, and without real surprise when The other side was open to the club, the guys dividing their time between watching the women clean up and watching the dancers working the stage once again.
“That cost them a fortune,” Kelly giggled, nipples stiffening under Sharon’s skilled touch, “Did you see what those cost?” Sharon shrugged.
“Nope… I thought they were Christmas presents.” Kelly laughed.
“Well, they were, but they had to pay for them… they were shelling out $70 apiece.” Sharon was surprised. She shivered as Kelly’s fingers found her dripping sex, sliding up so that her thumb worked her clit, while inside two fingers skillfully teased.
“Mmmm,” Sharon groaned, kissing the smaller woman, “You are so sexy.”
“You, too…” they were lost in getting one another off under the steam heedless of their audience and unaware of the time until there was a rap on the glass.
“C’mon, ladies,” one of the other employees said through the semi-opaque door, “Percy wants you upstairs.”
“We’re going home,” Sharon called through the door as Kelly shut the water off.
“Take that up with him.” Neither woman thought at all about standing naked and dripping wet before a strange man in the dressing room, taking the plush towels he offered, then leading the women, still drying off, through the dark hallway to a back staircase. The pounding sound of the next dancer’s music made the risers vibrate. They exited into what was going to be the club’s exercise studios, poles affixed at intervals across almost half of the room, with a linoleum floor beneath but not raised from the rest of the room like the stage.
Mirrors lined the walls by the poles, with three big widescreen monitors on the wall, and more even bigger screens on the front wall. There was a cash stand to one side of the customers’ stairway, and plush straight back chairs to the other side, with bins full of boas and other paraphernalia on that wall.
Sharon realized their second dance set was playing on the monitors. Percy and Dave were talking, and when they saw the women, Percy waved them over, their guide going down the opposite stairs as Sharon and Kelly took tall champagne flutes from Percy’s thin fingers.
“That was quite amazing,” he smiled at both women in turn. “And Dave says you hadn’t done a shirt set before?” They shook their heads. “Well you’re both naturals, although you,” he raised an eyebrow at Sharon, “Could get me in trouble if we had not taken special steps tonight.” Sharon shrugged.
“I thought that’s why you wanted us,” she said calmly, “Something a little more special than what your customers usually enjoy.”
“Quite right,” Percy nodded, “Beautiful and smart, too… That’s a dangerous combination, David.” Sharon almost laughed at that, knowing how totally Dave and Shaun had brought her under their will. And at anyone calling Dave ‘David.’ She saw the clock over his shoulder, behind the cash register… It was after 8. She had forgotten all about the time on stage.
“We have to go,” she pointed to the clock, relieved that Kelly was surprised, too.
“In short order,” Percy said, unruffled, and ignoring Sharon’s glare, “You’re under contract to sign autographs, too.” Sharon rolled her eyes, but did not argue. She looked around for a table, like she had seen at bookstore signings. There was only a TV tray set beside one of the plush chairs which itself was up against a pole with a mirror angled in the background.
“OK, but we have to hurry,” Sharon pouted, “We’re both going to just stand here and sign?” she looked down, realizing belatedly, “We should probably go put something on.”
“Nonsense,” Percy snorted, “You’ll have much happier fans this way, I think.” He pointed to the chair, We’ll let them come visit you one at a time. Burton,” the emotionless man who had led them up to the ‘gym’ reappeared, “Will see that you’re treated well.” Kelly nodded, and giggled when Percy put her hand through his arm, leading her back down the stairs where she and Sharon had come up. When Sharon looked back, she saw that Pink had come up, too, and behind her was one of the men, an older heavy balding man, who clutched at his shirt as if it was a prized possession. Sharon downed her champagne, setting it on the counter by the cash register, then moved to sit on the chair, pretending not to notice the man’s lingering stare on her nude body. He paused, when Burton directed him to where Pink was standing.
Dave bustled in through a hidden door behind the counter at that moment, spreading out various boxes and wrapped packages. From her position, Sharon could not see exactly what he had, but the man pored over it for a moment, before selecting what looked like a DVD case. He paid Pink, then turned and approached as another dancer appeared from the top of the stairs, an old Polaroid camera in her hands.
The man paused in front of her, licking his lips as he held out the shirt and a gold sharpie marker. Sharon smiled up at him, feeling sorry at how desperately lonely he seemed.
“Are you enjoying yourself tonight?” she asked, and he nodded, eyes bouncing from her nipples to her eyes and back. She took the shirt from his hand, noticed the slight tremor, and found herself wondering if he was as old as her father would have been if her parents had still been alive. It seemed unfair that he would not have someone to share the holiday with. “I hope the other girls treat you right for Christmas Eve, she said, then smiled at him, “Who should I make it out to?”
“Cozy,” he said, a voice roughened as his fingers by a lifetime smoking. Sharon frowned.
“Koozey, like the drink holder?” He chuckled.
“No… C O Z Y, like the fire.” That took her a moment, and then Sharon laughed. Nodding, she scrawled, ‘To Cozy, Merry Christmas, Love, Sharon,’ across the back shoulder and handed it back. She was surprised when she saw the DVD he handed her, one of the ‘BZ productions’ pieces, showing her in her elf costume on the cover. Trying to hide her horror at the open way he face was printed on the front, she scrawled her name across it, hiding it. Cozy did not seem to mind. She set the marker on the TV tray, puzzled when he stood there. Glad that someone had refilled the flute, she took a swallow of the cold, bubbly liquid.
“How do you want her, Cozy,” the second dancer asked, and Sharon blinked, unsure what was happening. Clearly Cozy was a regular, since the young woman was too far away to have heard their exchange.
“Uhm, I’d like a hug… but I want to be able to… you know, see,” the man blushed. Sharon stood up, not fully understanding.
“Of course I’ll hug you,” she said without thinking, “I mean, so long as you don’t mind that I’m naked and still a little wet.” The man’s eyes bugged, and Sharon realized what she had just said. She giggled, batting her eyes, “Well, you know what I mean.” She curled a leg around the older man’s, putting her arms around him and setting her head against his chest. She blinked, seeing the camera in front of the dancer’s face.
“Raise your right arm,” the younger woman said, and Sharon did without thinking. “Turn your pelvis to the right… open your knee up…” the camera flashed. Cozy inhaled deeply, pulling Sharon close. For a moment Sharon nearly panicked, but Burton cleared his throat and Cozy picked his things off of the TV tray and moved back toward the stairs.
Sharon blinked, seeing another patron turning away from Pink and Dave, his arms heavy with DVDs, when suddenly Cozy was back in front of her.
“I forgot,” he mumbled, holding up the paper tube Kelly and Sharon had passed out while they were giving the men tickets. Sharon’s breath caught, and she remembered the night she had first actually buried her face in Kelly’s sex, eating her out live on stage. The image caught her with her tongue lapping through Kelly’s sex, looking down from over Kelly’s head, her eyes closed, mouth open in pleasure. ‘Fallen Angels’ was printed above and below the picture, along with the Snake Eyes logo.
Numb, Sharon signed the flyer, smiling weakly at Cozy before her new fan once again headed for the stairs. She did not remember any photos being taken while they were dancing… Sure, she had been… focused, but her eyes were open, staring up at Kelly’s reaction, so she should have seen the flash… She shuddered, wondering if their every movement on stage was captured by such high resolution cameras. She knew with sinking certainty it was true, even as she wondered what she would have to give up to protect her family this time. Groping blindly for the glass, she emptied it without a pause, readying herself for the next fan.
Some of the men had not gotten T-shirts from her– Kelly had not realized that Sharon’s were $100, not $70– but everyone had the flyer, and most purchased a DVD or a CD ROM photo set for her to sign. Several chose the ‘Honorary BZ’ T shirt, emblazoned across the back ‘Size Does Matter’ with the fraternity crest. She found herself writing ‘Thanks for getting me off’ on more than one of those.
The posing was the most humiliating. Guys had pictures taken as they pretended to suck her breasts, as she pretended to suck their jeans covered cock, and had her straddle them, leaning back head and hair down as if she was impaled as they sat on the chair. On had her sit on his lap facing away, and told her to lift her legs to each side, keeping them straight. Just before the girl took the picture, he had whispered, ‘reach down and spread those lips.’ Sharon had done it, blushing at how exposed she was. Of course, the next guy in line had seen that, and she had repeated it in variations for the next three. One guy had her bend over at the waist and stood behind her as if he was riding her from behind, telling her ‘to look sexy’ as the photo was snapped. A couple had her stand behind them as they sat in the chair, resting her breasts on their head or shoulder. One had her stand behind and drape a leg over, so that her crotch was against the back of his head. The next guy liked that, but insisted she put her leg over the other shoulder so he could see all of her in the photo.
And of course, they had questions… Are you really married? Do you have kids? Is your daughter this hot? Does Kelly have sex with your husband? Does your husband know what you do? Doesn’t your husband get you off? Are you a nymphomaniac? Does size really matter? Do you have sex with fans? Do you prefer cock or Kelly? And the backhanded How do you stay in such great shape for being as old as you are? She smiled and shrugged and offered pat answers that the men seemed to accept without hesitation or second thought.
Several of the girls came up, too, and Sharon laughed an without a second thought struck lewd and suggestive poses with the other women, going so far with one as lying back on the faux wood linoleum and having the woman straddle her head, her tongue just touching the stranger’s pouting labia while the girl leaned down, opening her sex with one hand for the Polaroid. Sharon was tempted to take it farther, confident the other stripper would reciprocate, and increasingly aware that she needed to cum. But the next dancer was standing there by that time, so Sharon went on with ‘her job.’
Having seen some of the other photos, when her ‘shirt winner’ came up, he was wearing the shirt, and had Sharon sign it again with the gold marker low on the front, ‘loved your cock, Sharon.’ She signed his flyer ‘loved riding you, Sharon’ and managed to obscure her face on his DVD with his requested, ‘I’m not the same after you, Joel.’ line.
Joel had also paid for three Polaroids. First he had her sit on his lap, legs out, knees bent slightly, spreading her labia with her fingers and pinching her pierced nipple with the other hand. “Put your finger in your cunt,” he told her, then, and Sharon did, aware that his hand had moved around to press lightly on her stomach over her pierced navel. She did, absently working her finger in & out, which emphasized how aroused she had been through all of the autograph session, and without any relief. Joel waited, and she could feel him leering as she masturbated on his lap. Dimly she wondered if he had paid for a video, but was too absorbed in her building pleasure to ask or argue. “Put two fingers in deep, and pull them to the side,” Joel’s rank breath at her ear carried his whisper and Sharon obeyed without a second thought as the second photo was snapped. Her body shuddered, she was so close… “Lick your fingers now,” he demanded, and Sharon did without hesitation. “Put your head back on my shoulder.” She did, groaning around her glistening fingers, her hips bucking up as his hand dropped from where she’d let him leave it on her belly, pressing firmly against her swollen clit, two fingers curling up inside of her. The third photo flashed, and Sharon was tempted to remain there, letting him get her off, but the memory that something was wrong spurred a measure of self-preservation and she hopped off of his lap, his fingers dragging over her ass as he tried without seeming to do so to hold her in place.
“All right,” Burton must have noticed the near fear in Sharon’s expression. Joel pouted but with a final leer, he collected his photos from the girl holding the Polaroid and slunk back down the stairs. “You’re almost done,” Burton said to reassure the wide eyed blonde, “Just this last one.” Sharon nodded, and was pleasantly surprised to see it was the same guy who had gotten the last shirt. He held the shirt up as he approached.
“I guess I shouldn’t have let you do that upside down.” he offered a rueful smile. Sharon laughed, because Kelly had managed to write ‘climb on’ on her belly for the last shirt, which mean the arrow she had drawn was pointed up at his face.
“Well,” she blushed slightly, embarrassed at telling a stranger the truth, “It’s not inaccurate.” The guy smiled, handing her the flyer.
“Glad to hear that… I think I’m gonna wear that shirt ever day,” he shook his head, “That was unbelievable.” Sharon laughed.
“I’m the one who should say that…” she paused, waving the marker over the flyer.
“Oh,” he realized what she was waiting for, “Adam,” he smiled, “Pleased to meet you.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” Sharon answered, intentionally seductively– her clit was pulsing almost uncontrollably she was so aroused. She scrawled, ‘Adam, Thanks for helping me lick that pesky itch! Love, Sharon.’ He had purchased the new DVD and a photo CD Rom which she signed as well, before asking if he wanted a Polaroid, too. He nodded.
“I’d be a fool not to.” Sharon stood, looping an arm around Adam’s back and kicking her opposite leg out, knee flexed, to expose her pussy.
“Put your hand on my breast,” she told him, surprised at how husky her voice was. She giggled when he hesitated, “I won’t bite… unless you ask me,” she teased. When he did, she brought her hand back around, dipping it inside of his jeans before he could react. She spread her sex with the other hand, thumb pressing firmly against her hungry clit. The camera flashed, the motor whirred, and the small white square appeared. “Is there another picture left?” Sharon asked the younger woman who had been taking the pictures. The skinny bottle blonde checked and nodded.
Leaving none of the others time to consider what she was doing, Sharon dropped to her knees, opening Adam’s jeans. “It seems unfair I haven’t taken care of you, too,” she murmured, looking up at him as she then ran her tongue up the underside of his erect cock. “But I can’t really let you have sex with me… sorry hon.” Adam nodded, the look of disbelief on his face making Sharon want to laugh… almost as much as she wanted to cum. She stood fluidly, “I’m going to trust you here,” she kept a hand on his cock, “Pick me up.”
Adam did not hesitate, scooping her up like she was a child. Sharon shivered, amazed at how strong he was. “What do you do?” she asked. “I’m a cop,” he said, then laughed, “Don’t worry, this isn’t prostitution, and I’m not in Vice… this is too great to do anything to stop it,” he assured her. Sharon giggled, “Care to get me off again?” Adam raised an eyebrow. She shrugged, “They may not always be real, but that was… you’ve got a talented tongue, Mr. Adam.” She twisted in his arms, “But I thought you might like a memento of the night, too.” She squirmed, “Catch my hips,” and then he was holding her upside down. She braced her knees on his shoulders, bringing his erection into her mouth. “Mmmm,” she hummed, and his body went rigid, but only for a moment. Then he plunged his tongue into her bare sex. Sharon bobbed her head frantically, sucking hard, tongue laving his shaft, as he quickly built her toward a climax.
“Sideways,” she gasped, releasing him for a moment, “Let the camera see.” She caught his bobbing cock in her mouth again as she moaned at how wonderful his tongue felt flickering against her clit. He turned, and Sharon straightened her legs, letting them fall wide, an upside down split she had mastered for performing with Kelly at Snake Eyes. She heard the whir of the camera, which meant she could stop ‘posing,’ but need overwhelmed reason and she did not slow until her fan gasped and began to flood her mouth with his seed. Swallowing was more difficult since her stomach was over her head, but Sharon had managed larger loads too many times to count. When he stopped licking at her still aroused seam, she caught hold of his waist, and then nimbly pirouetted onto her feet, his saliva and jism wet cock brushing through the back of her hair. She stood up from her crouch, giggling as his flagging erection rubbed down her back to the crack of her ass.
“Sorry,” she half turned, kissing Adam’s cheek, “You were wonderful, but I have to save that for celebrating tonight.” She never considered what she was talking about ‘saving’ or for whom. Adam stammered a thanks, blushing when Sharon repeated the she should be thanking him. “That shirt is exactly right, and don’t let any girl ever tell you otherwise.” He collected the photos from the stripper and left. Sharon wondered if his buddy would believe his story.
She wiped her mouth and collected the towel that had been discarded to the side of the room. Only after the fact was she a little embarrassed about what she had just done, and only then because Burton, Pink, and the skinny young brunette were still there, watching her.
“Well?” she put her hand on her hip, holding to towel in the other hand rather than covering up. Burton shook his head, then pointed, and Sharon turned in time to see Kelly come out of the back stairwell, closely followed by the club owner. From the sheen on Kelly’s forehead, Sharon was sure her friend and lover had recently been having sex. She blinked, then giggled that she was envious Kelly having just been fucked by another stranger. Scooping her never emptying glass of champagne up from the small table, she raised an eyebrow as Kelly passed, receiving a wink in return.
Percy’s office was similar to Go’s, Sharon thought, when the club owner led her through the subtle door in the hall near the women’s dressing room. There was the big walnut desk, although Percy had several monitors on his, unlike Go’s single computer screen. Percy’s overstuffed leather couch was dark brown rather than black like Go’s. And instead of art pieces of women and dancers, Percy’s walls had posters and photos.
She was not surprised when he asked her to sign one of their flyers, along with another that Kelly had already signed. She had come around to his side of the desk to do so, and finished, she leaned against it, wishing she had been able to see just what he had, rather than Kelly. The afternoon’s entertainment with Zeke and his friends was a distant memory, and her body was still clamoring for pleasure.
“Keep them closed!” she giggles, her small hand tugging at his, pulling him into the gathering dark of the woods. In his obligatory blindness, he bumps over roots and skirmishes with bushes, the toes of his sneakers collecting mud and leaves. She was very bad with directions, and he was certain that they would never end up wherever she was trying to go. “Closed!” she turns back and trills, shushing his protests and questions.
He is about to take his final stand and order them back to the cabin when she stops and pushes him against a tree. All at once, her body is pressed to his and her are in his hair and her full lips are opening his, her tongue searching his mouth. She pulls his hands to her ass and he obliges, gripping the roundness beneath her dress. He can smell the lake behind the scent of her skin. “Can I open my eyes now?” he whispers into her mouth. “I know where we are.”
“No!” She leans away from him and he hears the rustle of her dress sliding over her head. “Stay there.” He shifts against the tree, rubbing his cock through his jeans; he can hear her step away, branches cracking beneath her feet. “Okay … now.”
He opens his green eyes and his vision shudders into focus — then he sees her, standing at the edge of the lake in a little black bikini. She smiles at him and laughs, fidgeting with the halter straps. He can see the outline of her long legs in the twilight, the curve of her ass, the shallow shadows of her ribs. Just as he starts towards her, she yells, “Catch me if you can!” and jumps into the lake.
He gasps and tears at his clothing, flinging his t-shirt, sneakers, and jeans into the dirt. “No fair!” he calls, watching her disappear in one place and reappear further down the bank. “I haven’t even got a swimsuit!” His skin is porcelain against the violet of the sky, the muscles of his legs and arms cut out in the brightness. He tugs at his boxer briefs, stretched tight against his erection, and runs in after her.
The shock of cold takes his breath away when he dips underwater, but he is strong, and she is a slow swimmer. She shrieks with delight when she sees him gaining on her, thrashing in the water as if the silly performance would bring her speed. For a moment, she is alone above the dark glass of the water; then she feels the brush of his fingers on her waist and he lifts her out of the lake, laughing and kissing at her wet skin.
“I’ve caught you; what’s my prize?” Her arms are around his neck and their kicking legs cross and uncross underwater. She slides a hand down his chest, scratching at the rough hair across his pectorals, and strokes the hardness beneath his boxer-briefs. His hips buck a little at her touch, willing her to grip his cock and bring him relief. She wraps her legs around him instead, and the warmth of her pussy makes him ache.
“I’m your prize,” she murmurs into his ear, moving her libs to nibble at his neck. He moans softly and slips a hand into her bottoms, his fingers parting her wet lips. As he pushes two fingers into her, she gasps and pulls his hair, repeating his name as his fingers slides in and out of her pussy. She cums with a shudder. He gazes up at her and wordlessly leads her to the bank, drawing her urgently through the water. He is on land first, and he watches her climb up and stand before him, the dark of her suit almost blending with the dark of her body but for the wet shine of her skin. “Suck my cock. Please.”
“Sit there,” she demands, pushing him between the roots of a wide tree. The bark scratches the skin of his back, but she kneels between his legs and kisses him hard and he forgets the tree. She jerks his boxer briefs down his legs and his cock hits his stomach with a wet slap, making her giggle. “So hard for me,” she says, flipping her wet braid over her shoulder; then she brings her lips to his cock, kissing the head. She swirls her tongue over the tip and dips her head, her warm mouth closing over his long shaft. He exhales sharply as she pushes his cock deeper into her throat, tracing her tongue along the base. Suddenly she is standing, turning — she pushes the black bottoms off and remains bent over, rubbing and parting her ass cheeks to show him the bright pink of her pussy. “Can I fuck you?” he asks, his voice dry with desire.
She returns to straddle him, her cunt an inch above his waiting cock, and she whispers, “Ask again.” He repeats the question, gripping her hips and trying to thrust up into her, struggling against her surprising strength.
“Can I please, please fuck you?” he says finally, desperately. She sinks onto his cock and their moans blend in the dark. He lifts her tits out of her bikini and sucks and bites her nipples as she bounces up and down. She cums again grinding her hips against his, his cock deep within her wet cunt.
She stands and pulls him up with her, and he spins her to face the tree. “Bend over, love.” Kissing her shoulders, he unties her top and lets it fall into the dirt. Her breathing quickens as he brings his arms around her to massage the softness of her tits. Her hands are against the trunk and he is about to thrust into her when they hear soft rustling and conversation nearby. “I think there are people here, baby,” he murmurs, pulling back slightly.
“I don’t give a fuck,” she says. She looks back at him, her dark eyes defiant. “Just fuck me already!” With that, his nails are in her hips and he is driving his cock into her tight cunt, her ass slapping against his hips. They can hear the foreign conversation getting louder and dissolving into gasps of surprise. He reaches for her braid and pulls; she responds with the scream, “Fuck me harder!”
His nails scratch down her back and he thrusts faster, yelling, “God, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” With a final thrust, he throws his head back and shouts, cumming hard inside of her.
They separate and search for the passersby, who have disappeared into the trees. She grins. “I’m sure they enjoyed the show.” His cum drips down her legs as she pulls her bikini back on.
“I know I enjoyed it!” He draws her to him and kisses her. “Now come on, let’s find my clothes.”
“I don’t think we should!” She is back at the bank, flicking the water with her toes. “Let’s go for a swim.” He joins her at the water’s edge, taking her hand. Then he crashes into the lake, laughing, and leads their next chase.