Suburban Perversion, or, How I traded the American Dream for Fantasy

Chapter One

Are you absolutely sure how kinky you are? Are you that sure? Yes, we want to simply be cuckolded, but what happens after you get that? We all have our fantasies, we craft them and nurture them for years, honing them to stiletto points of imagined dialogue, and summon them up again. What if all your fantasies came true, What happens next?

Oh, I had my fantasies. I wanted to have a wife who took a black lover, became dominant to me, chastised me, straponed me. The whole nine yards, or, the whole nine inches. Why I did want this, I haven't a clue, nor a care, as the twig is bent, so grows the tree, perhaps. I just wanted it to happen.

I plotted and planned, failing in unique and unpleasant ways, for the most part, before I attended a local bdsm function, where I met Anne. Anne had all the right qualities, Sharp, educated, beautiful blonde, IT professional, sexually experimental, and a delightfully perverse side with a taste for offense. She grew aroused at the things that made me blush, always pumping me for further information, she always wanted to push it further than I was comfortable with, god bless her. At first it was just pillow talk between fucks, soon it was her telling me how it would be as I worshiped her pussy, mumbling my eager consent into her pink, clean pussy.

She wasn't into black men, per se; nothing against them either, and she couldn't understand my insistance that he be black, but as her interest in my perversion deepened, she read the stories, the posts, and found the idea not altogether unworkable. I shared with her the best photos of IR sex I came across, especially the amateurs, where it clearly is a real life couple inviting black men into their beds, and bodies. The photos of perfect black men started to make her curious too. When we were in public, she'd ask "do you think that black guy there is huge? What about his friend?" We'd be eating lunch in the food court of crossgates mall engaged in a discussion about black cocks, both of us blushing. I was dizzy, this was actually going somewhere, she was cool enough and kinky enough to try to see these fantasies could lead us.

Up to this point, we were dating from different cities, we were in love, and in bed at night we enjoyed each other, and talked of maybe actually being one of those couples. We moved in together soon after, a house, with a yard and white-picket fence, in a great neighborhood in a small city in beautiful upstate New York. Right near where the Hudmister meets the Batten*******, idyllic, middle-class, liberal community. Completely caucasian. Not for long.

-more-

Lets hear more

yes, more please!

just getting good

Please keep going... is this a true story?

Anne was extremely pretty; petite, thin waist, full breasts that hovered firmly between a C and D cup. Sandy, thick hair that fell in Golden curls over her shoulders, a strawberry blond mane thick enough to hide the pink tips of her breasts like Lady Godiva, leaving only the bouncing, milky half-moon undersides of her jutting breasts. She kept in great shape at the gym, her body tight, athletic, but overwhelmingly sexy. Her sweat was like springwater, her pussyjuice like sweet honey. A stunning example of fertile ripeness, a woman at her most alluring, age 26 at the time, her body built for sex. She was brilliant, over-educated, voracious mind, smart as a whip, held several degrees and working on more, but when men saw her, they thought of sex, it was nature. It was natural.

Her eyeglasses, with 'Janeane Garafolo" style-frames, kept her from appearing too perfect and gave her a somewhat prickly, feminist demeanor, she looked as studious as she was. Picture Sarah Jessica Parker but cuter, that was Anne.

She approached my interests in interracial cuckolding as if it were her favorite college class; doing hours of research, keeping notes as to things that really turned her on. She was definitely kinky, her preference initially more to the submissive; she looked great in a schoolgirl outfit, spanked over the knee, but she was curious to be dominant, not simply to please me, either. She was just fascinated by kink, and we searched the then-brand-new internet together, surveying the myriad variations that huddled under the vast black umbrella of BDSM. Some were hot, some way too weird, other simply amusing.

She told me she had been strangely aroused reading about white men in primister who became the 'surrogate wives' of stronger black men, powerd to live out the rest of their lengthy sentences as the female to a superior black man. Yes, we know in reality this is a terrible crime, and in no way condone **** of any kind, but when she thought of me in the role, it was hot. Me, powerd to please a real dangerous thug criminal, made her wet. For her, we always roleplayed a tall , accomplished black athlete or business professional, a gentleman as well as a stud, but for me, she chose the image of a thug, a gangsta.

We'd watch a movie, or rather, I'd be on my knees lapping her pussy while she moaned to Denzel Washington on the screen. I'd grown quite adept at listening to movies instead of seeing them, as this became my primary role in the house, oral servitude. Maybe someday I'll actually get to See "The Hurricane" or "Man on Fire", they sound like great movies, I've heard them many times, always nuzzled nose-deep in Anne's heavenly furrow toiling for her orgasm, my hardness bobbing in the breeze, more neglected every day. She'd taken to covering my ears with her thighs during important scenes, ruining the movies for me just to insure my mind was on her at all times.

Then after the movie was the local news, and sometimes they'd show some good-looking thugs getting arrested for whatever reamister, and Anne would tease me, saying maybe I should go get arrested for some minor offence so they'd put me in the same cell with them. She asked me if I thought I could keep my masculinity intact in a primister cell with those men, I would blush and honestly say no.

"I'd bail you out, honey. Eventually." she'd laugh," or at least I'd come visit you occasionaly so you can tell me all about your new friends...bring you care packages; lipstick and vaseline, maybe one of my bras."

When we looked at houses, before choosing this one, she'd tease me as we were being shown around by the realtor, a sharp pretty brunette, about what the room could be used for. The realtor showed us the second bedroom, and Anne said, right in front of her, "look, hon, this can be your room when my boyfriend is here." The realtor froze, saw my beet red blush, and burst out in laughter, Anne joining her. They laughed while I was mortified. At another house, she said, "Oh look, this has a cute little house out back...I can just move you out there and let my boyfriend take over." Which is partly why I think we settled on this place, I think.

-more-

Great - more please!

this is cruel,,,,,,,,we need more......

Very well written, and very hot - please keep it going.

"You know, I hope you thought this through, " Anne advised seriously over breakfast in our sunny new kitchen, "because it is going to happen. You begged and begged, and I played along, but now, I want it too. I have absolutely no interest in remaining faithful to you, do you realize what that means? What you've done? You've eroticized me replacing you. Hope you're ready for that. I doubt you are."

It sent a chill down my spine to hear her talk like this, it was sobering. Up until now, it was pillow talk, meant to turn-on, to invent situations dripping with offense. It was late-night talk, after a glass or two of wine. Apart from the occasional teasing in front of one of her girlfriends, or realtor, or waitress, it was always more of an erotic incantation in the dark. But this day was different. This was bright sunny morning before work, such talk was never carried over till morning, but here it was, and far more frightening in the garish light of day. And gone was her lilting sing-misterg tone, her playful approach, this was as serious as auto insurance. She was no longer selling me on the idea, I had bought, they ink was dry upon the bottom line, and now she was spelling it out what I got.

"While I'm at work I want to you put a permisteral ad on Craigslist. Be specific, you know what type of man I'm looking for. Take a few discreet pics of me off the the camera and post them too. Oh, and make sure it isn't under casual encounters or anything like that. You know it has to go under the category of 'Long Term Relationships'. I want a forever man. Your wife is not a slut, you little perv, don't forget that."

I nodded meekly, flush in the face at this whole conversation, I wasn't as ready for it as I thought.


"Now. Sex. You realize I'm going to be having more sex than I ever have in my life, and you will be having none. I mean none. Someday I will tell you that our sec life is over, ad since I cannot tolerate you seeing another woman, it means your sex life is over. You ready for that? No more sex? No more sex for the rest of your life, never ever feeling a pussy again, because you convinced me you don't deserve it. That softness, only a memory. Yet I will be having sex every day. I suppose I'll let you play with yourself sometimes. but yuck, not too often. I hate your goo, you won't be dribbling it all over like you're used to. No more sex for you...mmm, it makes me hot just thinking about it. I don't have time to ride your face before work, so let's get off the subject for now, we'll discuss it in more detail when I get home. Tonight is going to be special. Tell me, sweetie, if, just by chance if, say, tonight was going to be the last night you ever get to have sex with me...the last time you get to have sex, period, for the rest of your life...would you want me to tell you? Do you want to know for sure, or would you rather wonder? You have till I get dressed to decide."

She treaded off to the bedroom, graceful, petite, that perfect ass surely waving goodbye to me. I sat frozen. Surely this was going too fast. I wasn't ready to have tonight be my farewell fuck. I'd have to take it much more seriously than I did last night, for example, a lazy fuck, me on my back, her riding and teasing me verbally, done and over in ten minutes. I guess that's why we're heading this way in the first place, my lousy s*******s in bed. No, if tonight were the night, I'd have to hold out as long as I can, savor every second, maybe take a viagra to keep me hard and going, giving it to her good, a dynamite fuck we both would remember fondly, me remembering it forever, having to make the memory last the rest of my life. I was running out of time, her heels were clicking on the stairs, she was coming to hear my answer.

One word.

"Well?"

Deep breath. Steady boy, don't pass out. "Y-yes, Anne. Yeah, I'd like to know if tonight was the end of my sex-life forever. I'd want you to tell me. Please tell me, Anne. Please."

She smiled at her easy victory, her eyed danced and shined as she tried not to laugh. This was a mindfuck, and she was balls deep. She locked eyes on mine and said slowly and clearly, "Well, since you asked so nice, I will answer your question."

Long pause as she toyed with me, then a clear "No."

"Whew! Good, because I'm not sure I.."

Anne cut me off "No, tonight will not be the last time you ever have sex. It couldn't be. Because it was last night!"

"No."

"Yeah! You've had sex for the very last time in your life. Hope you went out with a bang, but we both know it was more of a whimper. Hope it lasts you a lifetime, lover, cause it's gonna have to. Oops, I mean ex-lover! See you tonight, we are going to put that tongue to work...it's about all you have left now. Hey, your fantasy. You asked for it. You got it. Deal with it. Get that permisteral ad up before i get home, I'm horny already."

-more-

and I am waiting for more from this story, it's very good

great story! please continue

Chapter Two

Chastity and dildo training were next on her list, we drove to manhattan that weekend, trolling through the leather shops and bdsm clubs, Hellfire, Paddles, she bought a cb2000 for me, to ensure that my new life of celibacy was going to be taken seriously, she would keep the keys, or throw them away. She made it quite clear my chances of being released were about the same as the Detroit Lions going undefeated to the Superbowl.

Then it was dildo shopping. She wanted to be able to take whatever black lover she decided on , so we sought out a big black latex cock, very realistic, twice my size at least. "See? This was molded from a real cock. If you had something close to this, you'd probably be allowed to keep your little thing out of its primister. Since you are such a disappointment, you earned your fate. No more pussy for you. Case closed. Cherish your memories."

I nearly cried, swiping my credit card to pay for her ersatz cock, the girl behind the counter assuring Anne she'd made an excellent choice, one of their finest dildos.

Then Anne surprised me. She bought a second dildo, this one white, but equally massive. just as realistic, a bit more graceful than meaty, but with a big bell-end, nine inches easily. With it, she bought a leather strapon harness. Gulp. She couldn't. She wouldn't. She did. She tried on several harnesses, modeling each before the three-way mirror in that little dildo shop of horrors, the cute young clerk telling her which was best and why. As she modeled them,. Anne explained her intentions, informing me that since I was no longer allowed sex as a man, that she would bestow a great gift upon me, she would fuck me. She would teach me to enjoy cock. She would turn me into a fag. She was adamant that someday after she finds her forever black husband, she would wed me off in a white wedding dress to a big black thug. First she would teach me to suck and fuck like a pro. Truthfully, I was starved for any sexual contact with Anne, she knew that, and used my frustration as fuel. I really hadn't thought it could go this far, the twists and turns on the road to deep dark fantasy are sharp and dangerous, and Anne had her foot on the gas pedal.

She spent several weeks training me orally to take her dildo, my obligation and gagging slowly being replaced by competent cocksucking. She was proud, I was mortified when she told her friends she was training me as a cocksucker, bragging that she could train a straight man to suck cock, my blushing beet red to my ears caused them to double over with girlish laughter.

As she clicked the padlock on the cb2000, she told me she loved me.
" You've done it now. I told you, until we find me a lover, this relationship is only big enough for one cock - mine. Don't worry, you won't miss your little thing for long, you'll see. I can tell by the was you suck me that this was the role you were destined for. I mean, really, you had a cute obedient little girlfriend who sucked your cock when you wanted, and you let your dirty little fantasies change things with me just so you could suck my strap-on? I'm totally hot, too. What kind of man would do that? You're not a real man, not anymore. You can't even touch your cock with this on, can you? You'll have to sit to pee, every time. God, this is so hot. I'm so fucking wet, I can't believe you actually let me do this to you. Oh well, you're in for it now, I always wanted to try this role reversal full-time, now we can actually do it! In fact, you no longer have a say in the matter, not if you ever want to get out of that thing, anyway."

I was in shock, no longer able to masturbate? how would I survive, I usually came two or three times a day! I hadn't really thought this chastity thing through, now the time for thinking is done.
She slapped my ass, out of my reverie, "Okay honey, get in the kitchen and start dinner, I'm going to relax, smoke a bowl, and watch TV. You can bring me a glass of wine when dinner's on. Oh, and wear the pink apron," she smiled.

"Oh, and keep it down, I'm going to be on the phone. I told you about that hot black guy at my gym who's been flirting with me? Well, now that I dont have a real man in my life, I guess it's okay to give him a call. See? I told you to be careful what you ask for. But you're going to have to get used to the fact that you're not a man anymore. You're...my wife. Yeah, My wife, I like that. Every feminist should have a wife!" She laughed, I cried.

I don't know how I got through dinner, but I did, I guess the more busy work she gives me , the less time I have to think about my predicament, I hardly thought of my little cock in its primister until that night in bed. She had me light candles, some insence, put on some soft music. My first choice was a Dylan album, she told me to put on Norah Jones instead, telling me I should start listening to more women mistergwriters.

I sat there under the sheets with my penis sequestered away uselessly, feeling like an idiot, feeling nervous, and so very horny, all at the same time. I waited for her to come out of the bathroom, anticipating her like never before, probably because I could always stroke my cock before. She came out of the bathroom, nude save for her strap-on, it bounced and bobbed as she swaggered slowly to me, a gleam in her eye, her cock glistening wet with a sticky lube, almost dripping. she was gorgeous, beautiful, womanly, breasts and hips soft and yielding, inviting, juxtaposed with a fat, veined, engorged phallus, seeking to impale and possess. It dwarfed mine, it was perfectly suited to her, the right length and shape, long, arcing, hefty width at the bell-end with a flanging ridge that would lock the head inside you.

She saw me notice, as she adjusted a chromed buckle, "It took me a very long time to find the right cock, most aren't realistic enough, I wanted mine to be as close to lifelike as possible. I think that is important to what we're trying to do here, don't you?" she asked rhetorically, taking a massive hit off a joint and blowing out her smoke into my mouth, a shotgun hit.

It's hard to describe the rest of the night in order. So much I learned, so much I experienced, so much I grew as a permister, so close I grew to her. I learned what it meant to couple that night, what it meant to mate. To accept a partner's rampant erection, to splay open at the mercy of another's wanton thrusting, to passively quench the fire in a lover's loins. No matter how painful, no matter how awkward or how embarrassing to be sodomized relentlessly.

At one point we were spooning, and she stopped thrusting. I had no idea she could thrust like that, hard, deep and rhythmic, like a man, like a good man, she was a better fuck that i ever was, that was a point she drove home again and again. But she stopped thrusting as we spooned, and it changed, it became intimate. Instead of just a pounding masculine fuck, she turned it into lovemaking. She wrapped her arms and legs around me tight, deep inside me the whole time, she kissed the back of my neck as i caught my breath, she cooed into my ear as I whimpered at my fullness. She made me grind against her, making me develop a little wriggle to my hips, a feminine gyration on that ersatz cock in my bottom, and something began to happen. I felt it deep inside, almost a tickle at first, an itch needing to be scrathed, then i recognized the sensation; pleasure. My hips took up the motion themselves, her poking drawing yelps from me which made her moan and poke faster. It was building in me, a throbbing insistent pleasure, and I begged her not to stop.
I came, a tremendous orgasm, but to totally different, it was a girl-gasm, an internal sun burning bright behind my eyelids, far more intense than anyhting I experienced before, I had spewed through the bars of my cb2000, lying there shaking in the afterglow.

I thought she'd take it out now, but that was not the case. Just to show me that her pleasure was what was impotrant, she pushed me face-down and really pounded my ass push-up style for another twenty minutes. Twenty minutes is a long long time after you've come, and my ass was so sore from the friction I knew I was reding a little. She reveled in it, her long hair hanging over my face as she humped me, grunting and grinding, then she came, I could feel her whole body shudder, the terrible tension in her loins coming to a climax, I worked back against her rhythm like a dutiful mate, urging on my partner's pleasure.

Still deep inside me, she unbuckled her strap-on and slipped out of it, wrapping the leather straps around my waist and strapping it in me.
" I think we should leave this in so you can get used to it, don't you? God that was great! And you loved it too, I could tell. But I am still so horny, but for a real man. You knew this would happen, don't pout. I have a date. With James, from my health club. He used to play football, was a big shot in college, almost went pro. You'll like him. You'd just better hope he doesn't like you too much...!"

She got dressed and left, ignoring my pleas to stay and cuddle, her heels clicking on the floor as she waled out, echoing the click of her lock on my cock.

-more-

very nice. What a great ending to that section

very very nice just loved it when she left the strapon in him mmmmm

WHOA

One of the best stories ever. The description of the strapon on fucking, the emasculation of it, WOW, mindblowing, perfect stuff. And the way she strapped in in him at the end.

Incredible.

Loved the public humiliatin stuff with the clerk too.

This is amazong.

this is too good...

Very good Aly. I got to the end so far and only then realised that Anne hadn't actually done anything yet, only implied it. True mind fuck. Well done.

Wow, amazing work! Definitely interested in reading more...

Thank you for the kind words, your encouragement is greatly appreciated. Keep in mind please I'm an artist, a portrait painter and muralist, not a writer, so forgive the stilted prose, I'm doing my best to tell you about what happened when I was with Anne. I want you all to step up to the plate now and tell me YOUR story. Write it right here if you want, we can encourage each other. More to come-

a lyric horse

Whew! I just busted quite a nut while reading this. Thank you for the excellent story.

Whew! I just busted quite a nut while reading this. Thank you for the excellent story.

Part Two

Chapter One

An update

I'm sorry I haven't written in over a week, it's been cathartic for me to write you my experiences, but this last week has been hectic around the house. My wife's black husband James has been on vacation from work so he's home all day, and I have to pick up after him, feed him, and suck him off at his whim, which really cuts into the time for my responsibilities as male "nanny" to their two youngren, Malik and Odette. Now Anne tells me they're working on a third baby. Great. My Christmas present was learning that I'd have several more years of diaper duty.

My Kwanzaa present was an outfit of traditional African women's clothes; A traditional Aso-Oke headwrap, a mud-cloth Bogolan robe, an African print Ankara dress, even jewelry, African Kente bracelets, bangles and earrings. Anne dressed me, then James spent the afternoon sodmizing me like I was a young African bride. My bangles jangled to his african rhythm, my headwrap coming undone. He has me studying the Zulu language, he eventually wants me as a zulu speaking maid. As he pumped my bottom I cried out in the limited Zulu I have learned so far, "Ngiyabonga...ngiyabonga....yebo...yebo..." (thank you...thank you...yes...yes). He filled me with his warm fertile seed, the same seed that changed my wife from maiden to lady. I walked aroung the rest of the day feeling his sticky goo squish between my cheeks with each step, a constant reminder of who the man on the house is, and who is just a secondary receptecle for his sperm.

Anne was out shopping for the day with some of our new friends, the old ones mostly disappeared after our first black baby. She was out with Donna and Heidi, or Alicia, or Kim, or one of the other white wives who have gone black in our new circle of friends. It's been great to have friends you don't have to hide the truth from, but it has also helped reinpower this crazy lifestyle, it's been to easy to escalate the level of play to reality.

For example one black lover wanted his woman to look into castrating her husband, she took it very seriously, it was Tasha, I remember. She's very scholarly, so she set about learning the techniques and legalities of having hubby castrated; he's have to sign over power of attorney, have himself committed, or begin the voluntary course of a sex-change, which takes a few years. Tasha gave him the choice of staying without his balls or leaving with them, he left with them. Funny thing is, we find out a year later he ended up moving in with this really mean Mexican girl half his age, who is a gang member, and she had started pimping him out to men. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, I guess. Of course, his real estate holdings net him a six-figure income even in the current crisis, but she wants him sucking on the street just for the power of it.

The inauguration this week was a big day in my, I mean their, house. We invited several other interracial couples for a big overnight party the night before for Martin Luther King day, and to stay for the inauguration on YV. I cooked a big brunch while the white women in the house cheered to see a black man take power. Anne applauded and cheered, her blonde hair bounced, now tight in cornrows, beaded tress clacked against beaded tress. Anne's mom and sister hated her new 'black' look, her gorgeous gloden locks now bound in cornrows. Anne told them James allowed her the choice between cornrows, dreadlocks, or a big frizzy afro dyed jet black. He put me in Jericurls.

It was a great MLK party, Marley blaring in the CD player, sweet chronic filled the air, the perfumed smoke making the night electric with erotic energy. I cooked and cleaned, of course, served, cleared dishes, then my service became more opening wine bottles and rolling spliffs, as my wife and her friends began serving the real men, the black men, with wide-opened mouths and delicate pussies. It was quite a sight, beautiful white women where they belong, on their knees for their black lovers. For people who think scenes like this don't actually happen, I assure you, they do. I have been to Bland and white interracial parties that would blow your mind, I had no idea they really existed either, until I started going to them. They are happening every weekend somewhere near you, no doubt.

-more-

Part 2. Wow. What happened to the bit in between horse (by name if not by nature). I was quite looking forward to the progression. Thanks for the update though.

M

Yeah, me too

Not real big on the interracial thing, but the offense factor was enough to keep it hot. Liked the idea of a room full of white wives rooting for the black mens control

Forward into the Past

Part One

Chapter Three

Where we left off, Anne had just spent the night introducing me to strap-on play.

Play? Nay, it was more real than anything I had experienced in my life. The next day, my legs were shaking and wobbly all day, my butt was very sore too, of course, so my walk was more of a mincing delicate step than my usual manly swagger. This amused Anne to no end, pardon the pun.

"Aw, look at you, how sweet! You're walking around like a teenage girl who just lost her cherry! I'm glad I was the one to take your virginity...hope I wasn't too rough, but if I was, too bad, now you see the way guys treat us. They buy us dinner, a few takes, and suddenly they feel entitled to stick their cocks into our bodies. You know exactly what I'm talking about, you were no different than the rest. But you're learning now, aren'tcha? You're learning what damage a phallus can do to a gal, huh? Or a guy? Very different being on the business end of one, they look beautiful in profile, don't they, all veined, in a muscular arch, throbbing and pulsing. But when they're pointed at you, looking it right in its one dripping eye, it a different thing altogether, it's almost like an natural, coming at you, hungry, poised to invade you."

I nodded mutely, understanding her all too well.

"What I'm doing to you, honey, is I'm weaning you off my pussy. You know you'll never be allowed to penetrate me again, so I'm giving you this gift, so you will still have some kind of sexual pleasure in your life, I'm giving you..a pussy of your own. Isn't that nice of me? You'll thank me someday, I'm sure. With your chastity belt, this is about the best you're gonna do from here on, hon, so you better get used to..being used, I guess. Now, don't pout, You asked for this, remember? This was all your idea, buckaroo, not mine. I was your simple under-sexed naive girlfriend, remember? Quite content with your little dick, god knows how. You had it made, but you wanted this, and you want me to meet a black boyfriend to replace you. Well, I'm working on that too, hon, you can count on that. You are going to be so sorry so soon. But, you wanted it , and like a good girlfriend, I'm going to give it to you. I just seriously doubt you'll be as happy with the reality as you were with the fantasy."

Fantasy. A simple little fantasy never hurt anyone, right? not even a deep dark dirty fantasy, right? I mean, a fantasy is intangible, made of gossamer, melting like the morning dew after a night of dirty dreams, it's just a little fantasy. Until you speak it aloud. Speak it aloud and it becomes...a suggestion. Suggest it to some women, hell, most women, and they will get grossed out and never think of you as a real man again, or they'll laugh, too silly to even consider. Speak it aloud to a woman like Anne, and it becomes... a plan. She was Pandora, and my dirty thoughts made her box wet.

She strapped it on every night for the next three weeks, and every night I gave her another piece of me, sobbing and groaning into the mattress. It got easier quickly, she took me where and when she wanted, coming up behind me as I washed the dishes wearing only an apron, and slipped the oily head between my cheeks. I offered my ass up for her, adopted a wider stance, on my tiptoes like a well-trained wife, to facilitate her entering me.I bent over that sink as she rode me rhythmically, lovingly, long full stroked that set me rocking, the motion of her strokes, steady as a drumbeat, she was a great lover. So much better than I ever was as the one who did the fucking. I was embarrassed to say my girlfriend was a better fuck than I could ever be. She built the tempo slowly, her thighs slamming my ass, her dildo's latex balls slapping painfully against my own. She pulled my hair from behind, and reached around into the soapy sink to rub my sensitive nipples with soapy suds. The slap slap slap becoming a sharper sound as she started to break a sweat, her breasts glistening slightly as she worked it out, in and out. I was seeing stars with my eyes closed. Seeing fireworks...at last I actually understood the cliche, it was true, soft explosions, waves of pleasure like an ocean. Nobody ever told me there were sensations like this. I wondered if she was truly serious about denying me regular sex, and realized if she was, that as long as she did this to me I think I could accept the chastity, the denial. Finally she reached her zenith, in me all the way, grinding the base of her faux cock as her orgasm wracked her. I felt mine happening too, emptying into my apron. How apropos.

I fetched a cloth to wash it, but after the first few swipes to get the bigger stains off it, she took the cloth from me and made me kneel and suck the rest clean. This was to be routine from now on. She wore the dildo to bed, and took me during the night, a handful of her spit the only lube. I took to keeping a tube of lube close by after that.

She took me in ever room of the house, bending me over the living room sofa, the dining room table, the shower, down in the basement pressed up against the washer/dryer, even on the stairs. She said we were christening the house. She said I wasn't a housewife till I've been fucked in every room of the house. That stuck with me, and as she pegged me in the garage, on the patio, and finally in the garden, I blushingly realized she'd done it. She'd made me take her dildo in every room, every part of the house. Everywhere I looked it reminded us of a carnal moment, an inside joke when guests were over, we looked to the world like two naughty lovebirds, very much in love still.

But I was about to learn that she was capable of loving another as well. She hadn't just been weaning me off her pussy, she was weaning herself from thinking of ,me as a man, as a romantic lover or husband. She now thought of me as her wife, her pussyboy, her sissy. Her bitch. That left a void in the house, she needed a real man, to take her the way she takes me, and after the last month of pegging she gave me, I was powerd to admit that I wasn't the real man she deserved. She made me beg her, while she sodomized me, between yelps and squeals I'd beg her to please oh please find a real man to give her the great sex you deserve, to move him into my home and be the man of the house.

We put ads on craigslist, got a zillion replies, sorted it down to a few who seemed to be what we wanted, plus Anne was developing a real friendship with a black man from her gym, James. Now that she had so s*******fully eliminated any resistance from me, it was time to take it up a notch. Anne started dating.

-more-

I guess nobody liked the last two installments, so i guess I will end the magnum opus right here, unless I hear otherwise from the readers. Thank you for reading.

a lyric horse-

Your choice horse. For me, I would quite like to see how you got to where you were in part 2. It's an interesting tale so far. Please carry on.

Keep going, it is great

Please do not end the story....best cuckolding story I have ever read. I mean that!