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les histoires de chrislebo

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chrislebo

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Posts: 164719 Pictures: 3 
#6,061
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We begin this chapter the next morning, about four hours after the end of our last chapter.

Mrs. Huffman was awakened from a deep dream of peace by a blast of noise from the radio. It took her a few seconds to realize where she was, in her bed, in her bedroom. The next thing that happened was that she was overwhelmed by the powerful smell of sex: Pussy juice, some of it pooled on the sheet; cum splatters, much of it dry and some still wet, some leaking from her pussy; sweat, her own; his sweat. The whole room reeked of it, the remnant of hours of non-stop sex. .

Slowly, she remembered the fucking. It m

Our story picks up the next morning:

ust have gone on for four hours. He was really something.

Suddenly, she was awakened from her reverie by his voice; Harold McCarthy was yelling at her, "Get the fuck up! Get up." He was jumping up and down, pulling his shirt down over his head. "Come on, get up. We overslept." He was holding his pants in his hand, getting ready to pull them up. She could only wonder at his prick, it was stiff and hard. He must have come four or maybe five times at least last night....and that was only here in her bed. She wasn't counting the times before in her car or before that at the cabin.

She shook her head, trying to get the cobwebs out. They had quit fucking around six that morning. She looked over at the alarm clock next to her bed. It was, oh my god, nine forty five. She had been asleep for less than four hours.

"Leave me alone. I'm tired. I wanna ******" she managed to say. She grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed and pulled it over her head. Harold would have none of it. He pulled the blanket off of his former teacher's body and threw it to the floor. "Come on we're late!" he shouted. He began to pull her from the bed.

"What? Where?" she said as he stood up. She was still three quarters a*****. She was naked and dirty and tired.

"Hurry up," he was slipping his shoes on.

He picked her dress up from somewhere where it was lying on the floor. "Here, put this on." He slipped it over her head and began to pull it down to cover her body. The dress was stained with cum from last night's adventures. It was filthy from the car. It was creased and, like everything else in the room, smelled of sex and sweat. The dress even might have been the source of much of the smell.

"Wait," she screamed back at him. "I want to shower. I want to change into another dress. I need underwear. What are we late for? Where are we going? I want to ******" Her mouth tasted awful. It surely tasted of his nasty cum, more. She tried to remember if she had given him a rim job. "I need to brush my teeth."

"We ain't got time," he said. He handed her her car keys and started to pull her to the door. "Get your shoes on," he ordered.

Still too dazed to think straight, she slipped her shoes on and followed as he pulled her through the door and out to the stairs she preferred to use instead of the elevator when she brought him into the building.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded as they hurried down the stairs.

"I got to see my buddies, remember. They invited me. They were having a party and I told them I'd be there by ten o'clock."

"I'm not going anywhere!" she said. By now they were out of the building and half-running towards her car. "I told you last night I wasn't going to go to any party. Let go of me. I want to go to *****. Leave me alone."

"You got to come along. I told them I would be there and a promise is a promise."

"I didn't promise anybody anything. I want to go back home and go to ******" she repeated.

"You can't. I need a ride. You gotta drive me over there. I get there late, they're going to be pissed."

"If I drive you over there, can I drop you off then and come back home to ******"

"Yeah, yeah. Ok. Sure. Whatever you want. But let's go. It's late."

She opened the car door and they got in, she at the driver's side, he the passenger's. The car, like everything else that she had smelled since she woke not more than five minutes ago, reeked with the odor of sex that both stimulated and disgusted her. "Which way do you want me to drive?" she asked. "And remember, I'm just going to drive you there. This is a favor because you seem so desperate. After I drop you off, I am going to go back home to get some ******"

"Yeah, I already told you that you could do whatever you wanted when we got there. But let's go now. Come on! I don't wanna be late. Just drive towards the university. And hurry."

"Why is it so important that you be there and that you get there exactly on time," MaryJane asked.

"You don't gotta know. But when Leroy and Marquise invite me a party of theirs, they expect me to be there on time and no excuses."

"Who has a party that starts at ten in the morning?"

"They do, and it ain't none of your business when they start their party. Beside, they don't start the party at ten. The party ain't started yet or it started last night and is still going on. Either way, they told me to get there at ten. So quit asking me all those questions and just drive. Ok?"

MaryJane wondered how she had allowed Harold to get her into this situation. It certainly wasn't anything she wanted. She didn't feel like driving him to a party he needed to go to at ten in the morning. And she sure didn't want to drive him when she could have been asleep under her covers after a night that included multiple sex with multiple guys in the cabin, in her car and, finally, in her apartment with Harold. Giving in to Harold's entreaties most of the time resulted in MaryJane getting involved in situations she didn't really want to get involved in. "I am going to just drop you off and then turn around and go home," she said, as much as to remind him as to reassure herself.

"Yeah, I told you. There." He pointed. "At the light. Make a left. You go two blocks to Sweet Briar Street and make another left. Their house is the grey two story one."

MaryJane Huffman made the left and then the second left onto Sweet Briar. She wasn't very comfortable. This wasn't the best neighborhood in town, and this street seemed to be a sort of transition area between the university, about a mile away, and a semi-slum area that began a few blocks down.

"There. There!, That's it. That house, turn in the driveway. Yeah."

MaryJane turned into the driveway and parked next to the attached garage.

"Hey, I gotta tell you thanks," Harold said, looking at her car's dashboard timepiece. "You got us here right on time." He slipped his hand underneath her dress and put it on her naked thigh.

"Get your hand off of me," she said.

"I don't know why you always got to get so het up when I touch you. You sure don't mind it when we're fucking."

"Look, you asked me for a ride. And I gave it to you. Ok? I'm not washed and I'm tired and I just want to go home to ******"

Instead of removing his hand from her thigh, Harold, moved his hand upwards towards her cunt."

"I told you to stop," she said.

"I just want to see if you're wet," he said.

"I said stop."

But his hand, or at least a finger, had passed through her slit and into her pussy. "You are soakin' wet," he said. "Sloppy wet."

"Leave me alone. We're here. Get out and go to your party," she said. At the same time she was saying that, though, she parted her knees slightly, giving him easier access to her cunt.

He didn't answer her, instead, he reached over to the tissue box in the car, pulled three or four tissues from the box. Crumbled them up into a wad and wiped her cunt hole with the wad. "Just tryin' to keep you from staining your car seat or your dress more with your skanky cum juice."

"There's as much of your nasty cum there as there is my 'skanky juice' as you say. Now, just get out of this car and let me go home. You promised."

"See, you always gotta argue with anything I say." Harold said.

MaryJane knew very well that there was no profit for her in arguing with Harold. She wasn't likely to win the argument and it nearly always ended in her giving in to what ever he wanted. "Ok," she said. "I'm sorry. But I really want to go home. You're here. So just open the door and say goodbye."

"Ok." He said, surprising her with his easy acquiescence. But, instead of opening the door and getting out, he turned to her and this time put his hand on the outside of her dress over her thigh. He pressed down with his hand and she could feel his fingers press into the flesh of her thighs through the thin material of her dress. "How about just a little kiss, goodbye," he said.

She couldn't recall his ever before asking for a kiss. Kissing Harold wasn't exactly high up on the list of things she fantasized about or even wished for. His pimply face, thick lips and foul smelling mouth weren't terribly enticing. But if it was the price for getting him out of her car, she would do it. She leaned over a bit and pursed her lips.

His hand still over her dress and pressing into her thigh, he leaned over from his seat and covered her mouth with his, ******* his tongue between her lips and past her teeth. Before she knew what was happening, they were exchanging spit and tongue wrestling. His hand, still over her dress, moved upwards to the juncture of her thigh and her torso. She could feel his hand teasing her cunt to excitement as it pressed down just next to the hairy mound of her sex. She had no idea of what had happened, but, suddenly, her groin area was on fire and she could feel the inside walls of her pussy lubricating. She had just managed to disengage her mouth from his to tell him that, "We have got to stop this," when she heard, from behind her car, the sound of another car entering the driveway behind her car and parking there. "I won't be able to move my car," she told Harold. "I'm boxed in. Get out and tell them to let me out." But, instead of doing as she had asked, Harold began to kiss her again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Again, she was unable to pull away and ended up returning his kiss. She heard whoever had driven the car behind hers, exit from that car and slam its door closed. From the corner of her eye, she could see the tall figure of a man pass her car and go into the house they were parked in front of. She thought she saw Harold raise one hand and wave to the person who had walked past her car. She used all her strength to push him away. "Harold," she told him, "Harold, you have got to tell whoever that was, to move his car and let me out. I have to go home. You promised."

"Don't worry so much."
chrislebo

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#6,062
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"No, no." MaryJane insisted. "You promised. Get him to back his car out so that I can leave."

"You are a real ball buster," Harry whinned. "But, Ok." He got out of the car and walked over to the house.

As he entered the house, Mrs. Huffman leaned over and locked the car door. She sat in the car waiting for him to come out. She wanted to go home and go to *****. The car had a foul smell, a mingling of her and Harold's odors and the remnant of the late night activities in the car with Augie and Buck, and, of course Harold. She wanted to open the window to air the space out, but was afraid to open the window. Closed it offered her some protection. This neighborhood didn't seem to her to be the safest in the world, even at ten in the morning.

When, after five minutes, Harold still hadn't come out of the building, Mrs. Huffman got antsy. She flipped her sun visor down and inspected her face in the mirror. Ugh. Her hair wasn't a mess, that would be too nice a way to describe her hair. Her almost brown blond hair was totally uncombed. She attempted to get it in some order by running her fingers through the unruly mop, but without avail. Where was Harold? He couldn't have forgotten about her. She flipped the mirror back up. She was pretty, she knew. Most people described her as very good looking, maybe beautiful, at the least cute. But she was hardly cute, beautiful or even good looking at the moment, more bedraggled and dirty, unkempt. She should have showered after the sex last night, but had been too tired. Stupid Harold hadn't given her time to wash up this morning. And now look at her, she thought: sitting in her car wearing a cum splattered and wrinkled dress, no underwear, smelling of sex and looking like what she was, a fucked up, fucked out 31-year-old slut.

She looked around the car. The back seat where she had masturbated and blown Augie and Buck last night, and where she had fucked and been fucked and what else by Harold after Augie and Buck had left looked innocent at the moment without debauchery going on. The seat looked a lot better than she did. She looked behind her. The car boxing hers in was still there. The car seemed to her to be in a sexual situation. Her car with its front touching the door of the garage. The car behind hers nudging against her car's rear. Yeah, she thought, it would seem real sexy, if you were a slut. But where was Harold?

She blew the horn. Nothing. Once again. Still nothing. A third time. Finally the door to the house opened and someone looked out. It was a young Black man, maybe twenty, twenty-one years old. He looked at MaryJane for a second and then went back in.

After a few seconds, another young Black man opened the door and looked out. More success this time, he walked, sauntered would be a better description, to her car. She rolled down her window.

"You Harold's teacher, the lady brought him here?" he asked.

"Yes, that's me," she said. "Harold was supposed to be getting the guy parked behind me to come out and move his car so I could get out. Where is he?"

"Harold said for you to come in for a minute," said the young Black man.

"I am sorry, I can't," she smiled sweetly. "I have to be getting home. Could you please get the driver of the car behind me to let me out." No way was MaryJane going to get out of her car and go into that house. She had a way of getting into 'situations' every time she did what Harold suggested.

"Harold said for you to come in for a minute."

She smiled again at the young Black man. "I really would like to, but I can't. Could you ask Harold to come out. I need to speak with him. Please"

The man gave MaryJane a long looking at. She couldn't be positive, she didn't want to be caught staring, but it sure seemed as if he had a major erection poking against the material of the basketball shorts he was wearing. "I'll try to get him to come out," he said and turned around to walk back into the house. MaryJane rolled her window back up and waited for Harold to come speak to her. If that was an erection she had seen, it was quite impressive, she thought. She waited it seemed like ten minutes this time, but Harold still hadn't come out.

"Fuck this," she thought. She got out of the car and walked towards the house.

She waited, trying to gather her thoughts before, finally, knocking on the door. After a few seconds, another young Black man, different from the one who had come to the car before, opened the door. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Uh, I need to speak to Harold. I'm his teacher. I gave him a ride here. Could you ask him to come out here?"

"He said for you to come in and talk with him. He's busy."

MaryJane couldn't think of any reason she could give to remain outside. On the other hand, she really didn't think it was a good idea for her to go in. "Please ask him to come out, I only need to speak to him for a couple of seconds."

The man at the door looked at her for a long time. Finally, he scowled. "Stay here. I'll get him."

She wished he'd hurry. MaryJane had been waiting at the door for maybe five minutes (It seemed that long) when the door opened and Harold stepped out.

"Whyn't you come in when they asked you?" he said.

"You were supposed to get the driver of the car boxing me in to move it so I can get out," she said.

"He don't want to move it."

"What?"

"He don't want to move it, that's why I told you to come in."

"You promised."

"He don't want to listen to me."

"Harold, please."

"Why don't you just come in. Maybe he'll listen to you." Harold lowered his voice, "They saying that maybe the reason you ain't coming in is because they're Black."

"That's absurd," she said.

"I'm just saying that that's what they saying. Look, just come in for a few minutes. You'll see."

Whatever part of her mind wasn't addled by a lack of ***** and an excess of sex fatigue was telling MaryJane Huffman that the one thing she shouldn't do is follow Harold into the house. But addled and Fatigued non-thinking won the day. "Alright, but just a few minutes," she said. She followed Harold into the house.

As soon as she entered what she supposed was the living room, MaryJane realized that listening to Harold and coming in here wasn't the smartest thing she had ever done. As a matter of fact it was stupid. Why was she so dumb? She had no will power. And, although she wanted only to leave this place, go home and go to *****, a tingling of her clit and a hardening of her nipples testified to her stupidity. She saw the outline of the guy's big prick, and she got all horny. But, no matter, as soon as she could, she was out of here.

The room was barely furnished. A couple of kitchen chairs, an easy chair, a coffee table, a couch, a television set showing a pornographic movie and a computer set up in the corner. No pictures on the walls, no curtains but shades drawn down. On the table a large baggy filled with marijuana. A bong sat on the table next to the baggy. A haze of smoke hung in the room, no doubt Marijuana smoke. There were four people in the room. Two people, Harold identified them as Marquise and Leroy sat on the couch, the third, who looked to be the driver of the car that had boxed MaryJane's car in, was identified as Buttah by Harold. "So this is the party you were in such a hurry to get to," she said to Harold.

"Yeah, great, ain't it," he replied.

"Leroy got off the couch and walked over to where MaryJane was standing. "Hey, you my boy Harold's teacher from school?" he said. "I'm glad to be meeting you. Harold told us all about you."

"She the teacher fucked the whole high school," muttered Buttah from his chair in front of the computer. He didn't turn around to look at MaryJane as he said that.

"It wasn't the whole school, just six guys from one class," she said. Why hadn't she just ignored Buttah's comment. It must have been the marijuana haze that made her respond. She turned to Leroy. "I really need to get the car boxing mine in moved so that I can get out of here and go home."

"Hey, join the party for a while, take a toke," he said.

"I'd like to, but I really have to go." she said.

Marquise looked away from the television screen and the porno movie he was watching to look at MaryJane. "You the babe who don't shave her cunt?" he said. He looked back at the television screen that MaryJane saw was displaying a gang bang flick of some sort.

This time she didn't respond to the comment. Coming in to this place, she thought to herself again, was a stupid mistake. "Could you get someone to move the car blocking mine?" she said to Leroy. She hated Harold. Hated him with a passion. First, he had gotten her into this situation, and, second, the jerk didn't know how to shut up. What else had he told them about her?

"Uh, we got a problem about that," said Leroy.

"What?"

"The car blockin' yours in is Buttah's, but he don't wan to move it."

"Why?"

"He says that you shoulda told him to move it when he drove in. That now he is busy."

"It'll only take a minute," MaryJane said.

"I said I was busy. Later," she heard Buttah growl from his station at the computer.

She looked at Harold for help. He had gotten her into this situation. "Harold," she said, "you know that I need to get home. You promised."

chrislebo

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He looked over at Buttah and just shrugged.

"White teacher don't want to mess around with no niggers," came the comment from Marquise who didn't take his attention away from the television screen which, MaryJane noticed, was now showing a scene involving six large Black men and one well endowed blond, all naked either fucking or getting ready to fuck.

"Relax," said Leroy.

"I need to get home," she said, realizing as she said it that odds are she was going to be here a lot longer than she wanted, that she was going to get home much later than she had planned, and that probably sex was going to happen for her much sooner than she was really ready for. How much sex could she do in just a couple of days? Her dress was a crumpled mess of cum splotches. Her hair, face and body were encrusted with dried cum. Her mouth tasted of cum. She didn't want to think of the name 'cum bucket,' slut was bad enough.

""Don't you worry your pretty head, none," Leroy said. "We'll make sure you get home. In the meantime, sit down, relax. Have a toke. There's a place on the couch, next to Marquise," he added.

What else was she able to do? MaryJane walked over to the couch. She sat down on the couch as far from Marquise as she was able. Leroy brought the bong over. He gave it to her and lit his lighter. The school year wasn't due to start for another 5 weeks; **** testing for teachers wouldn't be for at least a month after that, so MaryJane thought that, at least as far as the testing was concerned, she was safe. She took a hit, inhaling deeply. She glanced at Harold who was sitting on his chair opposite the couch. That smirky smile was still pasted to his face. He winked at her. If it hadn't been a criminal offense, she would have strangled him. The toke went down real smooth. She could feel its affect almost immediately.

Leroy lit his lighter again. "Take another, this is goooood *****"

She complied. This time she was sure she was getting high. As usual at those rare times she got high, Mrs. Huffman's thoughts turned to sex. Well, to be honest about it, hard as she tried to think of other things, her thoughts often turned to sex. She snuck a glance at Leroy's pants to see if the outline of his very large penis was still visible. It was. She felt that horny tickling of her clit begin to stir again.

"One more," Leroy coaxed her.

"What the hell." She was high. No doubt about it.

Leroy sat down on the floor in front of the couch and draped the crook of his arm over MaryJane's knee. He turned his attention to the television as the performers had just reconfigured themselves, the blond face down on the bed, the large Black guys surrounding her, two of them with their pricks inserted in her vagina and mouth, the other four holding their very long and thick dicks in their hands, manipulating them just enough to keep them hard.

"You ever fuck a Black man?" Leroy asked from his position at her feet. The Marijuana was definitely affecting her. She giggled for an answer.

Leroy slipped his hand under her dress and snaked it up along the inside of her thigh towards her cunt.

"Hey, what are you doing?" she asked but made no effort to stop his hands from wandering where it would.. His fingers were rubbing her cunt hair, his thumb was tracing her cunt slit.

"Nothing," he answered. "Wanted to feel what a white chick's hairy cunt feels like."

"Please don't," she said, but at the same time as she asked him to stop, she spread her knees apart. His exploring fingers were making it hard for her to think. She really ought to make some sort of effort to stop what was about to begin happening. She did want it to stop. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go to *****.

She looked over at Harold. He had gotten her into this situation. He might make some effort to help her. Their eyes met. He shrugged.

Leroy, meanwhile, was continuing his exploration of her privates. And, her cunt was reacting to Leroy's gentle probing. Its walls were slick from the juice she was exuding. Her clit was tingling. She could feel her nipples getting hard as they rubbed against her dress. She had been on a non-stop fucking spree the past two days. She hadn't thought she could do anymore sex, but, well, she was what she thought and what was were two different things. She definitely was getting hot.

Leroy continued his probing of her cunt area.

She was surely getting hot. Face it, she said to herself, if you're not a slut, you're as close to it as a well bred, college educated, formerly married, Catholic high school teacher can be. She ought to stop him, but his hand on her pussy did feel good.

He had inserted a finger into her cunt. She couldn't ***** herself to make him stop. Her breathing deepened, her salivating increased and she couldn't stop swallowing. On the television screen, the girl had just finished being double penetrated and was on her knees preparing to receive the men's cum in her mouth and on her face. In the room, in real life, Leroy's thumb was circling MaryJane's clit. Without a doubt, she was getting hot. Hotter. Her face was flushed. She looked around. The men in the room, Leroy, Marquise, Buttah, Harold, they were all watching her.

"Hey, teacher lady, wanna take a tour of the house?" Leroy asked her as his fingers continued their examination of her cunt.

"Oh, What?" she asked him. She knew he had asked her something, but she hadn't been able to concentrate on anything except how his fingers in her twat was making her feel.

"I asked if you wanted to take a tour of this house," he repeated.

"Uh, Oh, Okay," she said. A tour of the house. That seemed okay. She stood up.

He let his hand drop from under her dress. He stood up and put his hand around her waist. They walked a few steps to the hallway. She was conscious of the men watching her ass as she walked, the rounded globes of her backside that Harold said was the sexiest ass of any teacher in the whole world. Leroy pointed to the end of the hall, "There's the kitchen," he said, but made no effort to go there. He had another destination in mind, moving now towards the stairs. "Let's go upstairs to see what we can find there." As they climbed up the staircase, he put his hand on her backside, sliding it up and down the sleek material of her dress. His hand felt so good touching her through the sheer material of the dress. "Harold told us you was the best piece of ass he had ever had."

She could hardly concentrate on what he was saying, the feel of his hand sliding along the curve of her ass trumping any attempt on her part for rational thought. If there was anything for sure in this world, it was that she was hot. H. O. T. The Marijuana had awakened her senses to the extent that she could think of nothing else but of his hand and how it made anyplace it touched feel.

He opened a door at the top of the landing. "This is my bedroom," he said.

"Oh," she said and stepped into the room. Screws everything, she knew what was going to happen. Oh, her clit, her cunt, her tit nipples, her thighs, really her whole body was radiating heat. She could sense the smell of her sex spreading out from every part of her body. She glanced down and saw Leroy's prick pressing against the fabric of his shorts. It was so big that it was obscene.

She went to his ******** place, a mattress on the floor of the room. She had no choice about what to do next. She did it. She lay down flat on her back. She reached her hands straight out to beckon him into her embrace.

Oh my god, she thought, she was a slut. Her cunt was on fire. She wanted nothing else but to feel his body atop hers. At last, finally, it had only been maybe fifteen seconds, but it seemed much longer, he lay down on top of her. Mrs. Huffman could feel his huge prick pressing through his pants and through her dress against her cunt. She began to issue a series of moans and groans, of mewling and gasping with every move of his hands, with every push of his giant dick against her body. She couldn't stop the sounds she was making. Maybe she could still stop this, what was happening.

"You never had Black dick before?" he asked her again.

She was too lost to the explosions of stimulation running through her body to speak in sentences. No, she only was able to shake her head.

"Ready yourself for a treat then," he said, loosening his belt and lowering his pants.

This was what she had come into this house for. Harold had set her up for this. She hated the bastard, but this is what she wanted more than anything right now.

She smiled noticing that he, too, wasn't wearing underpants. She gasped when she saw the size of his organ. It was ten inches in length, at least ten inches. The thumb and forefinger of one hand couldn't come close to circling the girth of his massive joint. It may have only been the moment, or the effect of the bong hits, but she was in love with his very big cock, enamored of it, eager to touch and hold it, ready suck it and, glory be to god, to be fucked by it.

She lifted her ass up off the bed as he raised the hem of her dress up past her thighs, and to her belly button. She dropped her ass back down to the mattress and raised her shoulders up as he pulled the top of her dress down to meet its hem at her belly button. She continued to moan as he put his prick against the slit of her very wet vagina and began to enter her. Her last coherent thought before she became totally engulfed by the sensation of his prick filling her vagina was to wonder if the missionary position was favored by Black guys too.

"Oh, big. Big. Full. Yes.Yessssss," she said as he slid the massive head of his huge prick down past the wet lips of her cunt and into the deepest recess of her vagina. "My God, Oh My God, Oh dear god, my cunt, your prick, Oh,oh, oh.I Looooove this."

Suddenly, it became clear to her what the statement, 'once you've gone black, there's no going back' meant.

He began to fuck her, thrusting his massive cock down through the grasping lips of her vulva, filling the ruby red walls of her cunt to a capacity they had never felt before. The head of his prick battered against her cervix.

Her whole body began to shake and tremble. Electric excitement ran from her cunt through her body, waking every nerve ending from her big toe to the top of her skull.

She Loved this.

He quickened the pace of his fucking and she began to repeat over and over "yes, yes, yes, yes, YES! This is soooo wonderful."

She began to giggle, "This is too goooood."

You like being fucked by a Black man," Leroy said.

"No. I Looooovvvvve it," she said staring at his brown eyes set deep in the dark skin of his face.

He grabbed her ankles and lifted them high, pressing them back so that they almost touched her shoulder, lifting her ass high off the mattress. For a second she was afraid that he was going to put his huge prick into her ass, but she relaxed as she realized that her new position with her ankles touching her ears allowed his long prick to reach deep into her cunt. Every stroke of that huge instrument of pleasure that jutted from between his legs brought sensation to another part of her cunt.

Then,without warning, his prick still deep into her cunt, he turned her body over. She was face forward, supported by her hands and knees. She wondered how she had arrived at this position without his prick never leaving the warmth of her cunt. He continued to slam himself into the soaking wet depths of her squeezing, thrilled cunt.

And then she came. She came and came. Her hard nipples, rubbing against the mattress sent sparks of pleasure through her breasts.

She began to giggle.
chrislebo

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"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Nothing. I sometimes use a big black dildo at home. I thought it was pretty good. It is nothing against your real thing. I love your prick."

"Harold told us about the dildo." With that, Leroy increased the speed of his thrusts, the power of his battering of her cunt.

As he increased his speed, she increased the quantity and the quality of her moans, yelps, little screams, and ohs and ahs. They came one after the other.

Did she say that she loved this? Oh yes, she did. She did. But she wasn't sure that love was the right word. It didn't say ENOUGH!

She began to shudder, her whole body shook. His big prick slammed in and out of her as she came once again, and again and again and again.

Leroy stopped. A smile lit up his face. "You are one good fuck for a white girl." He released his cock from her slippery cunt. MaryJane dropped her legs from her shoulder and spread her aching muscles to relax them. She had managed to slow her breathing and rest the aroused nerves throughout her body.

Amazingly, MaryJane Huffman wondered at this man Leroy's staying power, he had not come as yet, and she happily realized that there was more to come.

"Harold told us you are real good at sucking cock. Let's see," he said. He stood up.

Well, she now had a reputation to live up to. Slowly, she raised her body into a squatting position in front of him. There, just inches from her mouth, was that beautiful, pleasure bringing, black monster of a prick. She cupped his balls with tenderness and opened her mouth as wide as she was able.

"Ok, teach, I is ready," his cock was hard as steel and he thrust it into the wet hole of her mouth.

She sucked it in eagerly, hollowed her cheeks and ran her tongue up and down and around and around the steel hard shaft of his cock. She inhaled deeply, tasting and smelling the odor and and tang of her own juices deposited on Leroy's big cock. She tightened her lips on the black cock's shaft, milking it with a gnawing movement of her lips. She reached her hands around his torso, locking her fingers together at his ass and pulling his body tight against her mouth. Her tongue pressured the shaft of his cock and its head pushed against the back of her throat. She was fighting her gag reflex and winning the fight for the most part. His prick was so big. She was barely able to get enough air into her lungs to keep on going, but, gasping when she needed she maintained pressure on his monster prick with her lips, her tongue, and the back of her throat until the moment she felt his cock begin to swell and twitch and, as he let out a loud groan, begin to shoot its deposit of cum deep into her throat. Desperately, she swallowed and was able to capture most of his initial discharge. He continued to emit cum from his twitching cock until her mouth was filled with the thick paste of semen. She was able to swallow most of it. She managed to keep enough in her mouth so that she was able to savor its tangy flavor. Some of his discharge managed to trickle past her lips and down towards her chin. She put her hands down and slowly lay back on the mattress. She looked up at the standing figure of the large Black, sculpted body of the man who had helped her to orgasm after orgasm and gave him a large smile.

"You think you gonna be able to go back to that little white dick of Harold's for satisfaction?"

She considered Leroy's question seriously and then shrugged. Who knew?

Leroy smiled back at her. "Harold wasn't shittin' us. You an ace number one cocksucker."

Now he squatted down next to her on the blanket. "lemme rest for a minute," he said. "Like another hit off the bong?" he asked her.

What the hell, she thought. She nodded a big yes.

She took two hits this time, as did he. Feeling good, she reached over to grab a hold of his cock. Though not really hard after his orgasm, it was still as large, larger, much larger than any other cock she had ever had contact with. She played with his cock until she felt it begin to get hard gain. She thought that she was nothing less than a total slut. At least at this moment. A slut. He was laying down and she bent over his prick and took it into her mouth. She ran her tongue up and down its shaft until it grew back into its giant fucking mode. "Want to put this into my cunt again?" she asked. No question about it, Mrs. Huffman loved a hard cock, adored a BIG hard cock.

"That's a good idea," he said. "But this time I want you to be talkin' to me the whole time we fuckin'."

"Talking?"

"Yeah, ask me for it. You k now 'Fuck me nigger.' 'Put that big fat cock where it belongs,' you know that kind of *****"

Mrs. Huffman had trouble saying the "N" word. But for the good fucking she knew it would earn, she would do her best to comply with his wishes. She lay down and spread her arms and legs wide.

"Let's see how hard your big black cock can plow my little white cunt, Leroy," she said.

Soon they were back at it, fucking merrily along, until they heard the door to the bedroom open.

It was Marquise. Leroy slowed the action of his fucking and looked over at his housemate. "Wassup?"

Marquise smiled at the tangled mass of arms, legs and torsos writhing on the mattress. "Buttah says he's finished playing his game. He'll back his car out to let you leave," he said.

MaryJane Huffman didn't hesitate in her reply. "Not right now. Maybe in a little bit," she said as Leroy once again picked up the pace of his fucking. "Shove that big cock all the way in my slut cunt," she commanded him.

Marquise gave one more glance at the monster with two backs on the mattress and left the room. The squishing sound of a big cock in a little wet cunt filled the room. They changed position again, never, though, letting his cock leave her needy pussy.

MaryJane was riding Leroy in a reverse cowboy when the door to the bedroom opened again. It was Marquise. "Sorry to disturb you folks," he said. "Buttah says he wants a try at the white slut."

Leroy looked up at MaryJane. "Whadayousay?" he asked her.

"let me rest for a minute," she said. "And let me have another hit off that bong," she added. Did it matter, she thought. Was she a slut, she thought. Was she curious about what Buttah's prick was like? "Ok, send him up," she said.

Marquise left the room. "You know why we call him Buttah?" he asked.

MaryJane didn't want to guess. But, as a result of her happy fucking from Leroy, she felt that she could handle anything that Buttah could throw her way.

Mrs. Huffman and Leroy had just finished taking a hit apiece off the bong when Buttah came into the room.

"Ok, slut, you ready for a real man?'

An electric thrill of excitement ran through her body as she heard him call her a slut. Well, she would show this surly big Black man what a slut could do. She had been on an almost non-stop fucking spree for he last two days and for a week before. She looked at the color of her skin. She looked at the cum stained dress still wrapped around her tummy. She ran her tongue around her mouth and over her lips. She tasted the remnants of the Leroy's cum. "Ok. Mr. Buttah, come fuck your white slut. Let's see what you got."

Leroy got off the mattress, taking the bong with him. He moved to the corner of the room and sat down on the floor, ready to enjoy the show.

After removing his pants, he kept his shirt on, Buttah took the vacated place on the mattress and shoved MaryJane down on her back. He spread her legs wide. With no conversation, he lay his body on hers so that she could feel its full weight pressing against her. With no warm up, he stuck his big brown dick in her cunt. He was considerably thicker than Leroy, but his prick was about the same length as Leroy's. She mujst have been a slut. Her cunt easily parted to accommodate the massive instrument. Buttah didn't fuck anything like Leroy. His prick now buried deep in her cunt he began to fuck.

And fuck her he did, bang, bang, bang, hard, hard, harder. Bang, Bang, but no thank you m'aam. MaryJane was learning what it would be to be fucked by a jackhammer. Rocking into her at a maddening pace, grunting at every stroke, he filled her slut cunt with his big brown cock. "Yes, yeah, yes, yay, oh god yes," she said. Aaargh, ohhhh, ah, ah," she said.
chrislebo

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Slowly, she caught on to his rhythm and locked her legs around the back of his thighs, egging him on to fuck her, "Harder you big Black fucker, Harder." "Yeah, I'm a slut, fuck me," she shouted as she started and continued to feel her orgasm run through her body..

Suddenly his grunting sounds increased in speed and volume and Buttah pulled his throbbing prick from her cunt. He jumped up to put its tip against her mouth. She opened her jaw wide as she could and he shot his considerable load of sweet but tangy jism towards her wide open mouth. His aim could have been better, but about half of the heavy load managed to find its way into her mouth, the other half sprayed itself where it would, landing in her hair, on her forehead, her eyes and her nose. Some hit her chin and some on her chest.

"You are really one major slut," he said as he got up, pulled on his pants and prepared to leave. "I'm goin' now. You can move you car."

"Thanks," she said. "And thanks for the fuck," she added as he left the room. MaryJane had no regrets for the fuckings she had received so far today. She did, though, wonder whether Harold had heard or seen any of her recent activity with Leroy and Buttah and, if he had, whether that, too, would become part of the story he was obviously so fond of spreading about her.

MaryJane Huffman sat up on the mattress and took a deep, deep breath. She had had at least six or seven, or maybe more depending on how you count with Leroy and Buttah. She smeared the still gooey cum on her face and body onto her hand and, unable to figure out what to do with it, licked some of it off with her tongue and smeared the rest onto the mattress. She pulled the dress from around her waist up to cover her tits and, standing up, pulled it down over her hips to as far as it would go towards her knees. The dress hadn't gotten any less crumpled or any less sweat and cum stained while she had been fucked.

She looked around the room but was glad when she was unable to see a mirror anywhere. Maybe she was better off that way. She was a mess to look at, and she knew it. With her new best friend Leroy, she walked out of the room and downstairs where Marquise and (she had forgotten all about him) Harold were waiting.

MaryJane considered her next move for a moment. She had had as much sex as a girl could want. But she could do more, she realized. And she was in a very good mood.

"Marquise," she said, Hows about I give you a little of what the girl in the video was giving."

"Sounds good," he answered. "But she was handling six guys at one time."

MaryJane Huffman had been fucked by two large, well endowed Black men. She hadn't been fucked, though, by two, large, well endowed Black men at once. If she was going to be a proper slut, she would have to correct that, she thought, or maybe it was the marijuana that was doing the thinking, she didn't care. She was far from being satiated. "We haven't got six here, but how about you and Leroy together?" she proposed.

MaryJane Huffman, for the first time, she realized, was taking the initiative. Always a reluctant fuckee, she had become an aggressor fuckee. It was the beauty of these large black cocks, their promise of extreme pleasure that induced this change. Not only did she want to be be fucked, but now she was eager to ask to be fucked.

"I'm good with that, " Leroy said.

"And me," added Marquise.

"What about me," Harold piped in.

"Not you," MaryJane said. "You fucked me over enough so that you don't even get to smell my pussy."

******" Harold said, "I can smell your skank pussy all the way over here."

Real classy, MaryJane thought and then ignored him, turning to the task at hand.

She took Marquise's hand and led him to the couch. She waved Leroy to the couch to join them. "Harold, you can stay over there and watch." As soon as she said that she was sorry because, she remembered him on the front seat coaching her while she took care of Augie and Buck in the back seat of her car. Probably, he got off watching and directing too. Well, this was an imperfect world she thought.

She took her dress off this time, and laid it down on one of the chairs. Leroy led her to the edge of the couch. He bent her down so that her stomach lay over its end. He bowed and offered Marquise the opportunity to enter her cunt from the rear. She didn't care who was where (except for not letting Harold get anything) and offered her mouth to Leroy who sat twisted on the couch, on a level with her head so she could take his cock in her mouth.

.

And away they went. Fucking and sucking, sucking and fucking, changing positions and changing positions again, coming a lot and not coming part of the time, but mostly coming. The activity was punctuated by grunts, growls and yells of pleasure from Leroy and Marquise and by calls for "Mggffuh" and "Harrrahgh" from MaryJane Huffman whose mouth was stuffed with Leroy's big black cock one minute and then Marquise large cock the next minute..

When they were through, Mrs. Huffman leaned back on the couch. She stretched her legs out in front of her as far as they would go. "I am beat," she announced. She had entered this house with trepidation, thinking that probably she would be fucked, but not really looking forward to it. Well, live and learn, she thought. "Yes, I have been truly fucked," she repeated.

"You look it, and smell it too," said Harold, classy as ever.

MaryJane didn't care what Harold said. With him and his fellow classmates, she had been reluctant to engage in sex. She had wanted it, she realized, but she needed the hint of reluctance on her part and of their insistence and coercion before engaging with them. Here, with Leroy and Marquise, and Buttah too, she wasn't dealing with former students. More to the point, their magnificent cocks thrilled her beyond any chance to be embarrassed.

"Hey, Harold's teacher, teach," said Leroy. "We gonna have a real party day after tomorrow. Eleven a.m. You be here? Be a good party. Got a bunch of guys from the team going to join us."

MaryJane Huffman felt a renewed flow of cunt juice wet her insides and moisten the lips of her pussy. She thought about Leroy's invitation for a while. She wondered just how much of a slut she had become, how much of a slut she was willing to become. She imagined Leroy's friends had tools as big as his. She thought that she had only had limited sexual experience before now (that was why being with her former students had been such a revelation after years of no sex at all). The only thing she was sure of was that she didn't want Harold and his big mouth to know too much about what she was going to do. "We'll see," she finally said to Leroy. "If I can get some rest and get clean, maybe. Probably." She got up, gave each of them, Leroy and Maequise a goodbye peck on the cheek. She started to go to her car.

"Hey, I need a ride back," said Harold.

She considered leaving him here. Then, what the hell. Ok, she waved at him to follow her. "See you the day after tomorrow," she said to Leroy and Marquise, having decided that she'd be there for the chance it would give her to refine her sluthood some more.
chrislebo

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In the car, she buckled up, watched that Harold did too, and backed out of the driveway. She thought of Buttah and smiled.

Neither she nor Harold spoke as she maneuvered the car into the street and made a right turn to head for her house. Harold reached for the radio, but she slapped his hand away.

"Why you always giving me a hard time," he said, "I just wanted to get some music playing."

""I hate you." She said.

"What? Why?" he was back to his whinning mode.

"Because, for one thing, you don't know how to keep your mouth shut. Right now, I'm thinking that as soon as you get back, you're going to be telling all the guys about what went down at Leroy and Marquise' house."

"Hey, I'm not going to say nuthin'."

"That's a double negative," she said.

"What?" That what are you talking about expression was on his face.

"It means that you are going to say something."

"Whatever." He looked straight ahead. After a few minutes of silence, he looked at her, "Hey, Mrs. Huffman." He said, "None of the guys there, Leroy or Marquise or Buttah. None of them tried to fuck you in the ass, did they?"

She put a quizzical look on her face.

"I told them that if I brought you over there they couldn't do that."

"You told them you were bringing me over to their house?" She was ready to throw this lying, double crossing bastard from her car....while it was moving.

"Hey, no, nothing like that. I said if, IF, you came over."

She believed not a word that he said, but, she had been too satisfied by the fucking in the house to be very angry now.

"And what you got to be angry about anyway?" he said.

"You set me up. You set it up so I would end up getting fucked by them."

"So, even if I did, and I'm not sayin' I did, so what. You were one happy teacher when they were through."

"That doesn't matter. It's the principle."

"Principle."

"You don't put people in a position that they don't want to be."

"What if I set up a surprise birthday party? Is that bad too?"

What was the use of arguing with him? Mrs. Huffman continued to drive.

"You know why they didn't fuck you in the ass," he said to break the silence.

She didn't say anything. She didn't want to talk to him about that, about anything really.

"I told them I'd get you over to their house on one condition, that they didn't fuck your ass, that they save that for me."

MaryJane's eyes bugged out. She turned the wheel and parked the car. It was in the middle of a busy street, but she didn't care. She stared at Harold. "You presumptuous prick! How did you dare to think...."

"Don't get a cow," he cut her off. "They didn't bother your ass, did they. Just think how those big-ass pricks would have felt in your bung hole. Would have torn you apart."

She couldn't believe what he was saying. He was trying to take credit for claiming her ass as his. Enough, she put the car back into drive and headed for home. "Where shall I drop you off?"

"Take me to your place," Harold said.

"What?"

"I wanna wash up before I go to my home. And you don't want to go near my place looking like you do. You know what you look like right now?"

She knew. "Ok, but just to wash up. Then you leave."

"Yeah, ok. But you know, you ought to leave me break in your **** hole for being fucked."

"Get out. Right Now! Out of this car."

"You know, you are somethin' else. Can't you tell when I'm just kiddin' you?"

"Ok, but you leave as soon as you wash up."

Didn't I say I would?"

MaryJane didn't say anything else. She continued driving home. She thought about the party in two days at Leroy and Marquise' house. She wondered how many people would be there. Right now, she wanted to rest and wash up. And get rid of Harold as soon as she could.

The End (of this chapter)
chrislebo

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10 minutes have elapsed since the end of CH. 05

Mary Jane Huffman, followed by Harold McCarthy, walked into her condo apartment and shut her door. "Ok," she said, "Go wash up. You know where the bathroom is. I am going to lie down. I have to rest."

Mrs. Huffman was tired. She had been on an almost non-stop fuckfest for three days now and she needed to rest. She needed to *****.

Also, she needed to get clean herself, but Harold was using her bathroom. For the nth time, she thought, she should never have allowed him in to her place. She let him in and the next thing that happened was they ended up fucking. She did not need that now.

She needed to use the shower, needed to soak in the tub.

Her body was speckled with dried cum. Her cunt had been leaking come down the insides of her thighs. More cum, souvenirs from her jacking off the boys in her car, was now dried and stuck in her hair. Her dress, of course, was all wrinkled and cum splattered as a result of her fucking in the cabin, her screwing in the Back seat with Harold and her gang bang with Leroy, Marquise, and Buttah at their apartment. And, of course, the night before's activities in her bed with Harold had left a further residue of his and her discharges on her face, arms, and torso. Her mouth tasted of man cum and the women's vaginal secretion, her own, that she had tasted while blowing the various men and boys who had fucked her.

Tired and dirty didn't describe how she felt. Exhausted and filthy, that was it. Yes, especially the filthy part.

She had just enough energy left to shout at Harold, "After you finish washing up, just leave and close the door. I have got to get some rest." She plopped down on the bed and got under the blanket without removing her cum and sweat drenched dress. She spread her limbs wide to ease her strained and tired muscles.

She heard Harold mutter what she supposed was his reply. Water ran in the shower.

She fell a*****.

*****************************

Hours later, she blinked her eyes open. Daylight was streaming into her bedroom. When she had laid down to rest, the sun had just begun to go down. It was now high in the sky, near noon she estimated. Well, she had needed a long, quiet ***** like the one she had just had..

She pushed her body up into a sitting position, and stretched. She was still wearing the dress she had been too tired to take off before falling a*****.

A smell of fresh coffee!

It had better not be. But it must have been.

It was.

Harold came into the room. He was holding a half filled cup of coffee in his hand.

"Why are you still here?" she said.

"I found your dildo and vibrator," was his reply. It didn't matter what anyone said, Harold would turn any question, any conversation, into a statement that involved sex. At first she thought he did that only because he didn't wish to answer a question. Later, however, she figured he did it because sex was the only thing he thought about.

"The vibrator and dildo were in the box under my bed! Did you climb under my bed while I was a*****?"

"Hey, I could see where the mattress sunk down under your ass. If I wanted, I could of petted your ass through the mattress, but I decided to let you *****. "

"You are disgusting. Let me have a cup of coffee."

"Ain't none. I drank it."

Harold McCarthy was totally objectionable person. When he was a student in her class, he never paid attention. He hardly ever turned in his homework on time. He was rude and disrespectful. And his pimply face and skinny body weren't exactly works of art. Mrs. Huffman was incredulous. She had asked him to leave last night, but he was still here. He made coffee using her coffee maker and, no doubt, her coffee but hadn't made enough for her. She didn't, really didn't, like him.

MaryJane Huffman pushed herself up and out of the bed. She needed that cup of coffee. She needed to get Harold out of her apartment. She couldn't believe it. She had fucked , she looked at him, this goofy looking slob almost non-stop for two days now.

She staggered her way towards the kitchen. Harold, followed her. She knew, she could feel, that he was watching the sweet globes of her ass bounce beneath the sheer fabric of her dress as she made her way from the bedroom to the kitchen. God, he had made breakfast for himself and piled the dirty dishes in her sink.

"Do you expect me to wash your dirty dishes?"

"You know, you got the prettiest ass of any teacher in the whole world," he said.

"Why aren't you out of here," she said. "I told you to leave last night." She was at the sink rinsing out the coffee maker. He stood behind her and ran his hands down her back side, feeling the silky smoothness of her rump. "Stop that!" she yelled as she tried to concentrate on making the coffee. She couldn't believe it, she had allowed this stupid slob to fuck her to, how many, ten, eleven, twenty orgasms in this bed, in her car, at the cabin in the last two days and she didn't know how many times in the last two months before now.

"Your nipples are hard. I can see them poking against your dress," Harold said. "You ain't wearing no underwear."

"You know I haven't been wearing underwear for two days now. You stole my panties. I don't know what happened to my bra or if I ever even wore it. I am a whore."

"Hey, don't say that. You ain't no whore."

"I ain't no whore? You guys don't laugh and call me a whore when I'm not there?"

"Hey, I said we don't call you a whore. A slut maybe, but not a whore."

He was a nudge and a pain in the neck. "A slut? A whore?' What's the difference?"

"You're a slut. But you are not a whore. That's all!"

He was a former student in the high school English class she taught at Holy ****** of God High, and he had been a miserable student. He had never paid attention. He had been disrespectful in class, disruptive. He had barely passed the course, passing, as a matter of fact, because she really didn't want him in her class a second time. And now, here he was in her condo, ******** her coffee and telling her she was a slut and defining for her the difference between a slut and a whore. And worse, here she was, listening intently to what he had to say.

"A slut, she does it, fucks, because her cunt tells her to. It feels good! A whore fucks because her head tells her to. It'll help her get money or something."

"So you're saying I'm a slut because....." She paused to think.

"Because you like to fuck, you need it!" Harold interrupted.

The coffee had perked through. MaryJane filled her cup. She looked for sugar. There was none.

"I finished the sugar, that's what you lookin' for?"

"Don't you think you ought to stop before you finish all the sugar?"

Harold shrugged his shoulders. "You crave a hard cock. Your cunt does!"

It took her two seconds before she realized that he was harkening back to the 'slut' conversation. Mrs. Huffman gave him a sour look. She cradled the coffee cup in her hands and began to walk to the kitchen table. Harold was right behind her. He reached around her body and gripped his fingers together around her stomach. She felt his penis press against the hard roundness of her ass. Oh, God, his hands were slipping downwards and his fingers were pressing against the fabric of her dress, rubbing over the bush adorning her cunt.

"Please," she said. "Please stop that."

"How come you don't shave down here?" he said as his fingers traced little circles to explore the top of her slit.

"Because I'm not a ***** and it looks like a little baby's if it's shaved. I said STOP."

But the little circular motions of his fingers around her clit didn't stop. They grew more aggressive. He pushed harder against her clit and Mrs. Huffman stopped trying to stop him. She raised her coffee cup and sipped from it. She relaxed her body and pushed her behind against his hard, stiff prick. She stayed where she was for a moment, forgetting everything, lost in the warm sensation spreading from her cunt outward.

He pulled her a bit tighter against his groin, grinding his prick against the top of the crack of her ass. "I bet your cunt is really getting wet," he spoke behind her ear.

She was getting wet. She brought an elbow backward against his stomach and stepped away from his embrace. "All you think about is sex," she said.

"Yeah, so?"

chrislebo

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"So, Oh, never mind," she said. She went to her breakfast table and sat down. She took the one croissant left in the bread basket and began to nibble at it. She definitely needed to stop this with him. There were other things in her life than sex. She had to quit this randiness. She had done it before. Quit. Stopped sex. She would now again.

Harold sat down opposite her. He reached down under the table and pulled her feet up, placing her shin on his thigh. His hand reached down and smoothed the top of her thighs underneath her dress.

"I knew you were a slut the first time I seen you. It was when you walked into our Junior English class and stood in front of the room. You had your hair in a sort of a bun. You were wearin' a tight white blouse with buttons down the front. If you had on a bra, it must have been a thin one, because I could see the dark tips of your tits pressing against the blouse. You were wearing a tight skirt and it clung to your hips and backside. I could see your ass squiggle every step you took. Your face was flushed. I couldn't smell it when you walked past my desk, but I bet you were leaking cunt juice like crazy. I told the guys after class that you were one hot cunt and that we would all be fucking you someday. Was I right? Or was I right?"

Oh, he was right, alright. MaryJane Huffman remembered the day very well. It was nearly two years ago. But she remembered it very well. But this moment, Harold's hands softly stroked up and down the inner part of her slightly spread thighs..... Jesus, she wished he wasn't doing this. Her body was on fire. Yes, she remembered that day.

All during the first period, she had been afraid that her flowing pussy juice would flood her cunt and run down her legs and puddle on the floor. When the bell finally rang for the first break in that class, she had run to the bathroom to sop up the juice and to push a wad of paper into her cunt to keep the juice in. She had been excited in her life, but not ever before like this.

Mrs. MaryJane Huffman, had not been prepared, not prepared at all, for what had happened.

It was the first day of suddenly being surrounded by a full class of 17-year-old boys in that all-boy's Catholic High school. They were wearing military style uniforms.

She was excited about teaching at a new school, nervous about her lesson plan. But, what she had not been prepared for was how all that maleness would affect her. The testosterone level in that class had been overwhelming. Even without really looking, she was able to spot at least 11 hard ons among the 18 boys in the class.

And her own clit was as on fire as it had ever been. She was barely able to breathe sometimes. She would catch herself dreaming during that class. She would stop in the middle of her lecture, spotting some guy's cock hard and poking itself up against the fabric of his pants, and she'd start thinking of sucking that guy's cock, or some other guy's cock, sucking them off and swallowing their cum. She blushed each time she had another thought that involved daydreaming of fucking and sucking, and even gangbangs. The students had their heads down as they answered the questions on a first day pre-test. She bent her head down, attempting to look as if she was reading an important paper. But her mind created a vivid scene in which she was surrounded by the class while she knelt down and they ****** her to take their penisis in her wide open mouth one after the other. These mad fantasies passed through her mind and sent her pussy juice flowing all day as she taught the class. It had been an ordeal.

She had been proud of herself when she had finished class without ********* even one of her students.

What she had learned during that first day of being locked in a classroom with twenty hormone sweating 17-year olds in uniforms was she had to control that libidinous urge. She could not continue to walk around in that classroom and see all those erections she was causing without there being serious problems. There was no way she could concentrate on her job, teaching, as long as she allowed thoughts of fucking to intrude. She had to shut off those urges. It was hard, but she had to do it. It was a lot of work, but Mrs. Huffman made it happen. She just stopped thinking about sex except when she was alone in bed with her dildo and vibrator. She surprised herself by ignoring the raging hormones, the flying testosterone during the day. She'd get home and masturbate to beat all hell, but no congress with a man. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Huffman had stayed celibate for more than a year and a half after that first day. Mrs. Huffman had been a very good girl. She had even gone to mass on the obligatory holy day and an occasional holiday. The church, after all was her employer.

She had been a good girl until that night of the school Mardi Gras when the guys had ****** (sort of) her to let them undress her and then let them fuck her. And it had been a non-stop fucking session since then. After she had held back from sex for so long, it had happened once and she couldn't stop it. A lot of the fucking had been under the duress of blackmail. But the truth was that she was like a ***** who had one ***** and couldn't stop. She wondered if she could stop now like she had a year and a half ago.

She certainly would not stop it, though, if she didn't quit letting Harold into her apartment. Like now: Harold was leaning all the way forward and his hands had advanced all the way up her thighs. His thumbs were again circling her clit in slow stroking motions and his fingers pressed against the top of her thighs where they met her groin. She could feel her clit swelling up against its hood.

When Harold suddenly stood up, she stood up too. In a daze, she held onto his hand as he took her hand in his. She wasn't sure it was a good thing, but Mrs. Huffman gladly followed as he led her back to her bedroom.

He lay her down on her bed crosswise, her ass on the edge of the bed. He moved her dress up past her hips and continued the gentle massage of the area around her vulva. She didn't say anything, but a series of very quiet little moans escaped her lips. As she saw him drop his pants and saw his hard prick show itself between her spread legs, the sound of her moans got a bit louder, as did their pace. By the time two of his fingers had invaded her cunt and had begun to explore inside of her, her cunt was sodden with slippery fuck juice.

She moaned continuously and looked up at him with an unfocused stare, waiting for his lovely erect rod to enter her wet inner space. She wanted to stop this. She wanted him to leave. But more than that, a lot more than that, a thousand times more than that, she wanted him to begin fucking her horny cunt.

He pulled her lengthwise onto the bed and raised her knees while he slid his body between her widely spread legs.

She waited with that faraway look in her eyes and slack expression of her mouth. She waited for the one thing that would animate her out of the stupor she was in---the entrance of his long, skinny rod of a dick into the hot cavern of her craving cunt.

He slid into her, and her reaction was immediate. She let out a loud grunt and then a long growl. Her legs shot out and up and locked around his torso. Her hips began a quick series of upward bucking against his hips. They fucked like that, hard and fast without any sound except for Mrs. MaryJane Huffman's grunts and growls for maybe ten minutes. Then Harold slowed the pounding of their bodies together.

"You see why I said you were a slut?" he asked her.

She didn't say anything in return, only nodded her head yes and continued her groans and grunts, gripping his dick harder with her inner cunt muscles. He asked her if she knew that she was a slut. She answered by nodding her head as if she was Molly Bloom, yes and yes again. Yessssssss.

Along the way, after they had switched positions twice, before he had cum, but after she had yelled her way through three or four orgasms, he suggested to her that maybe she ought to let him break her ass in for some anal penetration. She said no and he didn't pursue the issue.

After he had finally come, shooting a thick wad of cum deep into her cunt, she slowly separated her body from his. Her clit was finally relaxed. Her cunt was satisfied. Her tits swollen and tender. "Maybe I ought to go and shower." She said. "And maybe it's time you left here. I think I maybe I will try to ***** a little."

Harold looked at her. He had his very hard and glistening prick at the ready in his hand."Hey, Mrs. Huffman, before I leave, I bet you'd like sucking my prick clean? Your juice is all over little mr. fuckit."

She hated the jerk, but Mrs. Huffman was awe struck at his ability to tickle a sexual nerve. She had thought about the taste of his cock fresh from her cunt. She had plenty of that taste from him recently, but it was always new each time she took him in her mouth. The feel of his prick laying on her tongue and the smell as her nose pressed against his groin was a hot experience for her. It was especially exciting when she did it doggie style, her ass up in the air and exposed while she faced his groin and she embraced his cock with her mouth.

She wondered how he had known that sucking his cock was what she wanted. His cock was long but only semi erect and glistening with the dew of her cunt. She knew that by enveloping it in her mouth she could get it hard and she gladly slid down the bed to take his flaccid prick into her mouth. She began to suck it clean of her juice and his cum. She fondled his scrotum with one hand and bobbed her head up and down over the head of his prick while holding tight his shaft with her other hand. As he started to become hard again, she swallowed his prick as deeply into her mouth as she could and then gripped his shaft with her lips, inviting him to fuck her mouth. She inhaled deeply as she tasted the tang of her juice on his prick and smelled the dank odor from his groin. She rubbed her clit as he fucked her mouth through her tight lips.

She must be a slut, she thought, as she took pleasure from the feel of his erect staff pressing on to her tongue and the back of her mouth. She thrilled at the expectation of his cum soon to jet into her mouth. She waited for the cum to fill her mouth and suffuse her taste buds with its salt-tangy flavor as she swallowed.

She must be a slut. Why else did she love how she felt sliding her hand around his body to cup the soft swell of his ass to draw his groin closer to her face, his prick deeper into her mouth.

Who else but a slut would want her cunt to engage in an orgy of sex with so unpleasant and so selfish a young man as Harold.

Was there any doubt but that she was a slut when all she wanted to do was to get this boy's prick into her cunt?

If she wasn't a slut, why had she fucked Leroy and Buttah, and marquise.....and the guys inn the cabin.....and.....well...she was a slut. That's why. Of course!

He came finally. And, after swirling his discharge around in her mouth to fully enjoy its salty flavor, she swallowed it. She sucked his dick clean and then moved up the bed to press her mouth against his and to touch his tongue with hers. She was a slut.

It wasn't that his prick tasted that good. It was so pure sex. It was somehow...she didn't know.

But she had to try once again to get him to leave.

"Harold, you know that I enjoyed that very much. But enough is enough. I have to rest. I have things to do. Please leave."

chrislebo

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byILienBagby©



'Mrs. Huffman, you give the best head of anyone."

"I am going to wash now. I really do need to. When I get out of the shower, I expect that you will no longer be here. Okay?"

"Can I watch you shower? I'll massage your back. I'll wash your cunt."

"I said for you to go. So go."

"Ok, you want me to go, answer me one question."

One question and then you'll go?"

"Cross my heart."

"Okay. Ask."

"You going to Leroy and Marquis's party tomorrow?"

Mrs. Huffman considered the question. "I thought maybe. Probably not. I don't know. Okay? I am not sure. That's my answer." It wasn't something she wanted to think about. If she ended up there for the party, it would be a spur-of-the-moment thing. She stood up off the bed, grabbed a towel from the shelf and walked towards the bathroom. "Lock the door when you leave."

****************

She walked out of the bathroom, a new person. No more cum plastered over her body. Her cunt washed inside and out. Her hair, upper and nether washed and rinsed. Sweat lathered and rinsed off. She walked into the bedroom and pulled the dirty sheets and pillow cases from the bed.

Mrs. Huffman found a clean T shirt and slipped it on over her head. It felt nice to have a clean white garment on. The T-shirt was large enough to come down mid thigh .

She went to the kitchen. Of course, Harold was there. He was sitting at the breakfast table, ******** a glass of orange juice.

"You said you would leave."

You didn't tell me if you was goin' to Leroy and Marquise's party."

"I told you I didn't know."

"They say if you don't go it's because they colored."

She drank orange juice from the container and put it back in the refrigerator. She started towards the sink to wash the dishes but stopped. She had some pride left. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her do the dishes he had dirtied.

She walked into the bedroom and began making the bed with fresh linen. Harold walked into the bedroom at the same moment she finished making her bed. "I thought about it, I'm not going to go to their party," She said.

"You sure you don't want me to break you in for ass fucking?"

"I am sure! And that's enough from you. Go! Get out of here." That disgusting young man was obsessed with her ass. She had no interest whatsoever in anal. He was an insufferable lout. Look at him. He had his hand in his pocket and was playing with his balls, or his shaft, MaryJane couldn't tell which. But that he was playing with either of those was obvious. She did not want to see that long, thin organ again.

"How come you ain't going to the party?"

"That isn't any of your business."

"It is. Who introduced you to them anyways?"

"First of all, I didn't want to go there. You made me."

*****. You walked right in there without any underwear, all skanky with dried cum and you say it was me who got you fucked.?"

"I never got fucked like that before by guys I didn't even know. You made me go there." Why was she arguing with him? "And the only reason I wasn't wearing undergarments and was wearing that cum infested dress was that you didn't let me change."

"First of all, you walked into there all by your own. And second, you loved it. Mrs. Huffman, Mrs. Slut, you loved it. You would of stayed for a second or a third go round if you could of."

She was not going to argue with him. She couldn't argue with him.

Harold pointed his finger at her. "I got it," he said. "You're afraid to go there because you afraid you'll get hooked on those big cocks."

"That is not it. I just don't want to."

Come on, your juice was flowing when you was there."

"Even if it was, I don't need to go through that a second time."

Harold sat down on the Easy chair in Mrs. Huffman's bedroom. Her bed was made, but she had no place to sit. She sat at the edge of her bed.

Harold stood up. "We got to talk," he said.

"You have got to go," Mrs. Huffman said.

"No. We got to talk."

"About what?"

"You got to go to the party tomorrow."

"What do you mean?"

"It's about your sluthood."

"Sluthood?"

"Yeah," sluthood. Becoming a real slut." He walked over to the bed where she was sitting. "You look good in that T shirt. Your legs are great. Your calves are sweet. Your thighs have just enough muscle. Real sexy."

Mrs. Huffman pulled the hem of the shirt down to cover another inch of her thigh.

"I bet your cunt is already getting wet."

She moved away from him and further onto the bed. The one thing she didn't need right now was another fuck session with this obnoxious former student. So why did she begin to get wet every time he said anything about sex? She looked at him and wasn't sure in her own mind about whether she wanted him to continue or not. All she was sure of was that if she didn't get him to leave right away, there was a very good chance that she would end up having lots more hot and heavy no-holds-barred sex with him.


chrislebo

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"Yeah, you definitely got to go to the party tomorrow." He sat on the edge of the bed where she had been sitting.

She moved a bit further away from where she had been sitting and where he was now. She pulled the hem of her T shirt down again, trying to get it to cover as much of her long legs as she could. She was angry with herself for not having put on panties, but she hadn't known that he would still be in the apartment, had she? She had told him to leave. She folded her legs and sat using her nicely muscled shins to block his view under her T shirt. "What is so important about that party?"

He moved so that he, too, was sitting on the bed, facing her. "It's to turn you out. A real slut has got to be turned out."

"I don't need to be turned out, as you call it. If I'm a slut, I'm a slut."

"No, you don't understand. It's part of the deal. You can't be a regular slut unless you been officially turned out. And that is what Leroy and Marquise do. They turn you out."

"I already had sex with them. And Buttah too."

"No, this one is official. And Buttah isn't a regular. They do it the real way.You know what kind of parties Leroy and Marquise have?"

"Like what happened yesterday?" MaryJane Huffman had orgasmed plenty while being fucked at Leroy and Marquise's house.

"Yesterday was nothing. You were such a ball buster, not coming in right away, they just fucked you to get you to fuck Buttah so that he would let you out of there."

"What are their parties like?" She was not going to go to their party the next day. She would not, no matter how much of a slut she was. But she was curious, and she had to admit that there were elements in how she had behaved lately that made her fit the definition of a slut that Howard had given her, someone who fucked because her cunt demanded it. But school would be starting in a few weeks and Mrs. Huffman knew for sure that she had to get her libido, her cunt and her fucking under control before classes began, slut or no slut that she was.

" Harold leaned back against the headboard. "What the guys do is a special treat. It's a real party, a fucking party. They want to make the slut happy, It is what they do, make sluts happy that they're sluts. They got it all planned. There'll be seven of them. They'll pull a train on you and then, after, if you want, they'll do more. Believe me, you'll be havin' a real cumming out party. You'll love it." Harold moved over to the edge of the bed and pulled MaryJane Huffman's legs down towards his end of the bed

He tried to push her T shirt up a little, get its hem closer to her pussy.

She resisted, pulled it back down towards her knees. She realized that the back of her thighs were exposed for him to see. Her nipples were hard and poking out against her T shirt. Fuck, she was getting all hot again. "Look, you had better leave now. I do have things to do. Really. I have got to do some things. I'll think about tomorrow. I promise I will."

He pulled her legs out so that they were no longer folded under her body, but were spread out in front of her as she sat.

She pulled the hem of her T shirt down once again. Oh God, her cunt was beginning to get all tingly. "No more. No more fucking today," she said. She was desparate to convince him. "Really. You have got to go. I am tired."

He ran his hands up and down her calves. He didn't reach further than her knee, but he managed to pull her knees farther apart than she had been trying to hold them. "You know how much you came yesterday. That was nuthin'. You let them pull a train on you, you'll come so much you'll be glowing for the next whole year."

Slut that she was, she could feel the wetness in her pussy begin to flow harder and begin to reach the inner lining of her vulva which began to open all on its own. "Harold," she said, her voice weak, "You really ought to be getting ready to go."

"Hey, if you go tomorrow to get your sluthood, I got to break in your ass first."

"What?" He was obsessed with her ass. And just a second or so ago she would have been spread out on her bed, legs wide open for this jerk to fuck.

"Don't you want your ass broke in?"

"I said I did not. I told you no." Why couldn't he stop talking about her ass. With all the sex she had been enjoying lately, she didn't feel any need for an ass fucking, which, anyway, she thought would hurt.

"How can you be a slut if you don't take it in the ass?"

"Slut is a word. It is a word. There is no where in any dictionary definition of the word any reference to anal sex being a condition for being a slut." Do not argue with him, she thought to herself. She never won any of those arguments and the argument ended up, most of the time, with him between her legs or she between his legs.

"What does the dictionary know? A slut doesn't do anal is only half a slut. Getting ass fucked, gets you really opened up for cunt fucking. Like, you get ass fucked, it makes you want to get something in your pussy more. Ass fucking just opens up more ways to get cock. Before you had two holes for cock, get your ass ready and there's three. Less boring, the more things you do."

"Stop it. I said I wasn't interested." Why was her clit reacting as it was, growing, pushing out of its covering sheath? She had a large clit, but it seemed huge now, its nub grown out beyond the sheath.

"You would love it. All you need is me to break you in."

"You to break me in and Marquise and Leroy to turn me out."

"Yeah. You got it. That's right."

"I am not interested. That's it." She could barely control her breathing. " Get out of here. Go home." If she didn't get him out of her door in the next minute, she didn't know what would happen except that fucking would occur.

But right now, she was having little success in getting him to leave. Her T shirt was inching its way up toward her cunt, Her juice was flowing. Her legs were apart, and Harold had his face angled to slide up to her glistening clit.

"Hey, remember you didn't want to do 69 in back of the car the other night, but once we figured out how to lay sideways on the floor and our bodies were pressed together and you swallowed my prick, and I was sucking on your clit, and you loved it. Remember. You said how great it was."

She really must stop this! But Harold began again to move his hands underneath Mrs. Huffman's T shirt. She had to stop what he was doing. Her thighs were slowly opening wider and wider of their own volition. It seemed to her that there was a quiet, undeclared, battle going on over the question of where her T shirt would lie on her body. She grabbed its hem and pulled it down as far as she could. She didn't know but that she wanted to lose this battle.

He managed to rest one hand on her knee. His other hand moved up and he began to slowly glide his palm against her nipple, grazing his palm against the very tip of the nipple.

She moved her hand upwards, a move meant possibly to brush his hand off of her hard and extended nipple. But she was immediately distracted. Her hand stopped to rest just underneath the swell of her sensitive mammary gland. Her fingers joined his. Both their hands gently touched, kneaded and brushed every part of her tingling breast. Every touch set off a burning that spread all through her body.

His hand on her knee slipped further up her leg, taking up with it the hem of her shirt. The hem of her T shirt had somehow risen far enough so that her thighs were totally bared and her cunt on show.

"Going to the party tomorrow would be a gas." He lifted the hem of the T shirt a bit higher, exposing her bush even more.

"Please leave." She spread her legs open just a tiny bit more.

"They're experts. Their whole thing is that they know how to fuck so the slut they are fucking gets the greatest fucking she has ever had. Seven guys. They pull a train. 20 minutes a guy. One after the other. You get a minute rest between guys. Every one of the guys got a different technique. One of them does oral. Another rides you missionary. Leroy loved to get head. One of the guys, Lomax, loves to let his major, jumbo size dick fill you up more than you could believe and then, once he's all in, he begins to get you to come and cum and cum over and over again. He's so big, you're so filled, you come without him havin' even to move much. Just you squeeze that muscle inside your pussy against his huge cock you get to cum like you never came before."

She hoped that Harold wasn't noticing how hot she was getting, how wet her cunt was getting. "You make it sound so wonderful. Thank you, Harold. But I am not interested. I am not interested in having a train run on me." She hoped he wasn't noticing how flushed her body was. Alas, she knew he wasn't going to miss how turned on she was.

He managed to get his hand high up on her thigh. Very high. But he wasn't touching her mound. He was just off there, gently holding her above where her leg joined her torso. "It's not like a train where one after the other guy just fucks your sloppy cunt. The guys at the party are a team. Each guy fucks different. And their whole aim is to make you love it every second. And after they have each had their twenty minutes they'll start a second round for as long as you want with the guys fucking you every 15 minutes all night if you want. It's to celebrate your sluthood. It's to welcome you into the club."

"Harold. Please try to understand that you telling me all these things ....... I think maybe we should stop. Stop. Maybe we should stop and get dressed." She....but what was he doing now? "Oh, no."

"He moved his hand so that the bottom of his palm pressed along her cunt slit. "You aren't wet? Bullshit. You are wet. You are soaking wet." His hand moved a fraction of an inch upwards and began its circular pressing motion.

He moved his body forward and now his face was just inches from her cunt.

"You like if I suck around your cunt?"

Mrs. Huffman, MaryJane Huffman, didn't know if this was a surrender or if she was a winner and getting what she needed.

"Do it," she said.

She moved her hand down to slowly put it on the back of Harold McCarthy's head of dirty, oily hair. She guided his mouth to her on fire bush covered cunt.

His fingers were in her cunt, sawing in and out. His lips were hard against her mound. His tongue curled in her cunt and up so that it pressed against the back of her clit. His other hand's fingers slowly circled around her clit and his nose pressed into her pubic bone. Earlier, he had guided her hands upwards so that she could fondle her own tits. How was he able to get his tongue to press so hard up against her cunt's top? Oh, fuck it, who cared? His tongue kept working in and around. His fingers now started exploring her cunt, stretching and widening her entrance. His tongue was pressing against her clit, rubbing up and down against her clit as he allowed her hand to guid the slow movement of his head. She wondered how he had learned to do cunnilingus so well. But, really, it didn't matter where he learned it. It felt soooooo good. Did anything in this world feel better? Maybe fucking. But not by much.

She didn't know how Howard had done it, but somehow, without ever removing his lips from her cunt, he had managed to turn her over. She was off of her back and up unto her knees, doggy style. His head was between her spread thighs, his tongue still inside her cunt. His eyes were looking upwards past the bush and into her eyes. Somehow, he was guiding her body downwards so that her knees remained bent while her arms were extended to put her face down against the bed and her ass high, sticking up in the air. The next thing she knew, he had managed to reconfigure his body so that he too assumed the doggy position, but behind her. Two fingers were in her cunt and his tongue was now over ass hole, wetting it. His saliva leaked onto her ass hole and his tongue pushed inside her ass. Then she felt his finger touch the wet entrance to her nether hole.

Oh no. "No," she said. "You are not going to do that. I told you I didn't want to be fucked with there."
chrislebo

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"Just a tiny bit, that's all. It won't hurt."

"What are you holding?" He had removed something from under the corner of the mattress.

"I told you, nothing's gonna hurt you," he said. "It's nothing, just a little KY, to soothe the skin around your ass hole." He squirted the jell between her ass cheeks and, with his finger, pushed some of it into her anus.

"No, no, no," she said. But, by now, she could feel the tip of his cock pressing between the spread cheeks of her ass and against her bung hole. The gel he had deposited there a moment before made her ass hole seem equipped to suck his cock in. The tip of his long cock had just gained entrance to her hole. It stayed there, going no further in than just to allow the very tip of his cock to enter maybe a quarter of an inch inside her ass..

"See," he whispered into her ear, "it don't hurt at all. I bet it feels real good."

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe that's enough. Could you stop now?"

"Hey, relax Mrs, Huffman. It won't hurt at all. When I tell you, sort of stretch your ass muscle. They call it the sphincter. Open it like when you want to push out in the bathroom. There. Right now. Push"

MaryJane did not want it to hurt. She pushed as he had said and felt maybe an other inch of his thin prick enter her backside. She could feel the stretch. But it didn't hurt. "I don't know. I don't know," she murmered.

"Hey, you're doin' great," he said. "Squeeze your ass hole shut and open with that sphincter."

She did as he said. She felt him pour more of the gel over her ass hole.

"Yeah, that's right, squeeze and relax. In and out. Hard. Soft. You doin' great."

She became a little bit more comfortable as she squeezed and then relaxed, squeezed and then relaxed her sphincter while the tip of his cock stayed just a half inch in her ass. Then, quickly, as she relaxed her muscle there, he pushed his long thin cock all the way in. It was all the way in. It was deep in her ass, sliding in on a coat of KY. She could feel the head of his cock deep in her and his shaft sliding down along the passageway from her ass's entrance. His groin pressing against her ass cheeks. Surprise! It felt good.

She looked back over her shoulder at Harold. "It hardly hurt," she said.

"Feels good, don't it?" he said.

She was able to nod her head, yes.

The nod of her head was all he needed and he proceeded to fuck away into her ass. "It feels TIGHT," shouted.

Mrs. Huffman began to push back as he pushed in. After just a few seconds, she managed to catch his rhythm and pushed as he pulled and pulled as he pushed. He sprayed more of the KY jelly onto the opening of her ass and continued his fucking of her ass. She continued to move with him as he fucked. After a while, Harold slipped his cock out of her ass and guided her to turn over onto her back. He lifted her legs and bent them at her knees so that her ass was now angled upwards. He put more of the gel at her ass hole and once again pushed his cock in.

"I doesn't hurt," MaryJane told him. "It feels good. Oh, you're fucking my ass. I am open for your cock. I LIKE IT!"

"See," Harold said, "you gotta like it if you are a slut."

"And I am a slut," she said. "Fuck me in the ass. Yes, fuck me there."

**********************

Mrs. Huffman had a smile on her face. She lay on her back on her bed, covered by her blanket. Next to her, Harold McCarthy lay quietly, a smile on his face, too. They had been fucking and sucking for some time. And now they were resting. Her vibrator lay next to her leg. Her big black dildo lay next to it.

"Well, am I a great slut, or am I a great slut?" Her question was issued to the ceiling as much as it was to herself or as much as it was addressed to Harold.

But it was Harold who answered the question. "You're doing real good. You go to the party tomorrow, you'll be a one-hundred-percent certified slut."

"You think that I need to go to the party? I'm all broke in for anal. I already fucked those guys. Maybe I don't need to go."

"Nah, go, you'll love it."

MaryJane Huffman turned her head to look over at Harold. She wondered how much to trust his judgment about the party tomorrow. She wondered why he was so interested in making sure she went to the party. What was in it for him? She thought about Leroy's big cock. She imagined Marquise's prick. She thought about how many ways she would be pleasured by dicks pushing in and out of her cunt, her mouth, and, oh yes, her ass.

Harold raised himself onto one elbow and looked over to her. "You know what I'd like to do? I'd like to get some pictures, maybe video, a porno of you fucking."

THE END (of this chapter)
chrislebo

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********* and Ponygirl Trained

Knock Knock Knock.

Sarah squirmed as she heard the knocking on her apartment door. She had assumed that the man she had been talking to for over 3 years on the net was just joking about being around the corner, but now she wasn't so sure. She scampered to slip on her bikini, and then she cracked open the door.

"Hello Sarah. Are you ready for your inspection?"

Sarah blushed as she let the man into her apartment. She closed and locked the door, already fidgeting with the nervous excitement in her body, as she realized she was about to begin a new life. She knew she had a look of controlled fear in her eyes, as she turned to the man, and watched him sit down in her comfy chair. She moved slowly, cautiously, as she kneeled down before him, not daring to risk making a wrong impression so soon after his arrival.

"I know you want to be my ponygirl, Pet. So why are you still dressed?"

Sarah squirmed and blushed, as she slowly stood up, and pulled the ties on her bikini, allowing it to fall away from her body. She was glad she had shaved that morning, her pussy swollen and smooth as she thought about what was happening to her. She kneeled back down, and gathered the top and bottom of her bikini up, and folded them neatly into a pile, before setting it aside.

"Ok pet, up on the chair here, and let me get a good look at you."

Sarah was ****** to kneel on her chair, on her hands and knees resting on the arm rests. She felt her pussy moisten as she felt his fingers examining every inch of her body. She felt him checking her feet, her shins, her knees, her thighs. As his hands moved closer to her cunt, she squirmed slightly, as she shivered in anticipation. Sure enough, his fingers slipped into her pussy, fingering her walls as he examined her moisture. She moaned softly as he continued his inspection of her body. Her butt, belly, breasts, shoulders, upper and lower arms, fingers, and finally her head were all checked. He even opened her mouth, and checked her teeth.

Sarah remained kneeling there, unsure what was going to happen next for a time, as she heard the man rummaging in a bag he had brought with him. Suddenly, he was back at her head, with a ball gag in his hand. She opened her mouth, and felt him slide the ball into her mouth, behind her teeth, before buckling it tightly. He lifted her up, only to pull her across his thigh, pinning her legs with his other leg, and grabbing her wrists in his hand. She squirmed in her vulnerable position, but she was helpless to stop his hand from beginning to spank her upturned ass.

Sarah squirmed and squealed behind the gag as he spanked her mercilessly. Her ass felt like it was on fire, but beyond the pain, her mind was in another place. She could only imagine she was his naughty little girl, having her bottom spanked, and the thought sent her over the edge in her first orgasm. Still her bottom was spanked, and still she squirmed, completely at his mercy.

She felt him release her, unsure of how long she had been over his lap. He sent her scurrying into the corner of her living room, and had her put her hands up behind her head, interlocking her fingers. She wanted to squirm, to rub her sore ass, but when she fidgeted, she got a swat with her hairbrush. She stood there, staring at the corner, for what seemed like hours to her, but were in fact only 30 minutes. She heard her tormentor rummaging thru her closets and drawers, till he returned with a dildo and her pony tail plug.

Sarah was ****** out of the corner, and onto her knees, her head on the cheerleading practice mat she had setup in her apartment. She felt the tail plug slip into her pussy, and her cunt juiced it up. She then felt it at her rear entrance, and she moaned as it was slid home, seating itself on her anal ring. Then she felt her dildo being shoved into her cunt, and turned on. Sarah quivered and bucked as she was worked over, ****** to cum again and again for her tormentor.

She felt him asking her all sorts of questions. She only could nod or shake her head. Every response seemed to bring pain or pleasure to her, and Sarah didn't really remember what was asked. All she knew was her pleasure was more than her pain. She had wanted to fake an orgasm, but she was worked over till her body gave out whole spasms, her moans loud and ***********, and her pussy creamed itself with her excitement.

As she came down from the orgasmic high, she found her owner sitting in her chair, watching her. He asked her some more questions, and she knew he was gauging her desire still. He had thrown it on hot and heavy, intentionally making her know what her place would be if he took her as she had asked. She continued to have the desire in her eyes, and the passion in her cunt that he had desired.

Sarah was again ****** to kneel on the arms of the chair, and remained like that for a while. She was told simply to remain in place. Not how long, or what would happen if she moved. So she knelt there, the stress in her muscles begging her to move, to stretch, but she held her pose. After she could no longer hold herself up, she felt a dildo enter her cunt, and she was worked over into another blinding orgasm.

"You have done well, pet. But if I take you now, you're going to loose all contact with your family, friends, and society. You're going to be kept in a barn, exposed to the elements, kept naked, and ****** to serve anyone who pays me to use you. This isn't going to be a pleasure trip for you. You are going to work for your food, and for your stable. I am staying in the Holiday Inn by the highway, room 211. I will leave it to you, what you do from here."

Sarah heard the man leave her apartment, and thought for an hour. Then she packed a small bag, wrote a note and put it in an envelope, and closed her apartment door. She had put on her bikini, and drove to the hotel. She quivered as she thought of what was going to happen next, but she smiled, and got out of her car. She went up to the room, and knocked on the door.

She smiled as the man let her in, and as soon as the door was closed, she dropped to her knees, removed her bikini, and waited for orders. She heard her bag being emptied, and knew he was looking at the tack she had bought with her. She had seen the truck with the horse trailer out back, and she knew there was no going back after this. She felt the man behind her, and opened her mouth, accepting her bit and bridle without fuss. She felt him drape her harness over her body, lifting her breasts into the harness cups, and tightening the straps around her. She felt him bend her over, and moaned as her dildo and tail plugs were inserted, and the waist and crotch belts were tightened. She felt her feet lifted and slipped into the hoof boots, and then felt them being laced tightly. Her hands were then pulled behind her back, and held there.

"This is your last chance, pet. Nod your head if you accept me as your owner, and your life as Sarah ends, and your life as a pony begins. Shake your head, and we consider this done."

Sarah only paused a moment, before nodding her head. She felt the arm sleeve secured around her wrists, pinning her arms to the small of her back. This was it. She was at his mercy now, and her pussy quivered as she realized this. The last thing she saw was a blindfold being pulled over her head, and then her world was darkness.

She heard the door open, and voices filled the room. It sounded like 3 men. Someone fumbled with her bit, and pulled it out, only to replace it with a cock. Sarah's head began bobbing on the cock in her mouth, licking and sucking on it, as the others began feeling her breasts, and pinching her nipples. Sarah felt the cock in her mouth swell, and then she was swallowing down the first load of cum for the night. The cocks changed, and Sarah continued her duties, sucking on the cocks as they were presented to her mouth for the rest of the night. She had serviced each one at least 2x, before the last one finished, and her bit was replaced.

Sarah was still blindfolded as she was led down to the trailer, and felt her harness connected to 2 support straps. She was unable to lie down or sit, so she stood there, in her tack, as she listened to the gate being closed, and her things being tossed into the side compartment. She heard the rear ramp slam closed, and her body quivered in a full orgasm. She had managed to make her dream come true. She was on her way to her new life as a ponygirl.

The following week, Police were called to Sarah's apartment, after a note was found, explaining she was running away. Investigations were started, but the computers were gone, and DNA evidence was not to be found. Hotel records failed to show her arriving or departing, and city surveillance couldn't track her down. The police informed her parents of the futility of the search, and asked if they heard something, to call them.

Sarah meanwhile was secured in a barn in another city, well actually in the country, as she thought of the day's training. She had spent 8 hours on the walking machine, her ass being whipped if she failed to prance properly. Tonight, her mouth was going to be fucked by at least 2 cocks and a pussy, and the following day, the Lady was going to take her out for a cart ride, on the farm's trails. Sarah squirmed as she came again, thinking to herself how good it was to be a full time ponygirl.
chrislebo

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End Of The Line


In place of her bed was a long, narrow cushion seat, enough to fit her 5'2 frame but a passenger of any size would find the edge too close for comfort. There was not one window, but almost ten, twice as many when you include the actual areas to let in the cool, autumn air. In her room she would find a desk, an office chair, and a pile of books on business ethics and social responsibility, while in front of her now were rows and rows of blue coloured seats.

Far more worryingly, where on earth were her clothes? Kristin had a case of the shivers in areas of her body that she remembered perfectly well being clad with one of her favourite red dresses, the one with flowery design by its sides and its silky material showing off plenty of thigh.

She sat up and embraced her own knees, dragging back her bare feet and feeling only skin on skin bar a bra and matching underwear. It was desperately cold up here, and extraordinary that any ***** was achieved at all. Luckily the pool of vomit was tucked away in the corner, but escaping its foul stench was an impossible task.

In fact the upper deck had not been cleaned at all; on one seat there were two empty cans of Heineken, directly across, a crisp packet that was neatly stuck in the steel part of another as if it were a form of compassionate littering. She did understand she could be guilty for any of it, it was not the first time she had overshot her limit by an inadvisable amount but it usually ended safely with a helping hand out of the taxi. Her head was dizzy, mouth dry in a premature hangover.

Whatever the hell the young woman did tonight, she didn't spontaneously strip to her bare essentials and ask for a ticket – this was an act of cruelty, one that no one deserves despite reckless behaviour on a night out. Above all she felt let down, by a chain of people, starting with one of her friends who probably ran off with her long time boyfriend, to anyone else on board that failed to wake her when the end of the line was approaching.

The bus creaked under her one hundred and fifteen pound weight, something you don't notice when surrounded by the urban din, but here, it was clear she was the only one making a sound in the building. She walked to the stairs, catching hold of the rail as spared dirt collected on her soles.

It was mostly dark but the steps were reasonably visible. The ticket waste had been opened; allowing bunches of paper, sweet wrappers and a plastic cup to make a rubbish ramp in the centre of the lower section.

It might sound strange, but she was only afraid of two things – if she was unfamiliar with the area and would be ****** to walk a great distance with no shoes, and second, that she would be embarrassed by passersby. Worst case scenario in the immediate sense, she had answered the question of what happens if you not only miss your stop, but never get off at all?

It was one of the newer models, "AX", as could be told by its extra space, especially the luggage compartment with a roof of bars. When she looked out the windows, she could see herself in the reflection of another; it was parallel buses showing the exposed student making her way past the driver's cab.

Then, before she could step outside, she was startled by the sight of a pair of high heels, neatly parked like the vehicles as if they were waiting her for. They were hers, too. Black, patent leather, four inches and of course the trademark red "lipstick" underneath – she almost felt apologetic to Mr. Louboutin as his work was among the garbage of a nation.

Kristin dipped her feet into each shoe; sure they can be a pain to walk in, but it seemed a more attractive option than the oily ground below the final step. There was very little space between the sides to slip out, but when she managed it, there were only more obstacles.

There was about four-five feet between rows, all double deckers except for one a few lines down, the "WV." A faint hissing sound could be heard in addition to the click of her footwear, and she folded her arms to endure the cold of the garage. It was, at least, fully lit, as long as you weren't sandwiched between them.

It was a stretch to even imagine working here, especially the graveyard shift. A bus is large, noisy and messy, never mind a hundred of them, and even when static the maze was intimidating if you hadn't been inside it before. The plan went as follows – hide behind the corner of one of these monstrous transports, work her notoriously irresistible eyelashes and call over a nice mechanic for help. She'd rather scamper unnoticed, but perhaps they could provide her some clothes.

She held her hand on the curve of the front lights, now in the first row, roughly in the centre of the depot. One bus had special treatment, on its own between her position and the pits, or maybe there was no room anywhere else. There was a pool of water around its wheels and lengthy, soaked tire tracks from one end to the other.

They are "picked" of rubbish when they come in, brought onto the bay to be vacuumed, fuelled and oiled, and finally taking through the wash, but for whatever reason her '54' from town had not. That would explain why no one spotted her up on the back seat, and the driver must have been an unsympathetic soul at four in the morning.

"Hello...is someone here?" she asked.

The building merely answered back with an extended hiss, and the fuel pump in the distance hadn't been turned off. The crew had to be around; after all they had shunted her own bus into its place. She ran her hand through her soft brown hair, still feeling the effects of the booze. Maybe it will end up being a famous story with her best friends, but for now, her head hurt, she was freezing and just wanted to go home.

Careful on the slippery, concrete floor, she made her way toward the big shutters. Past the notice board was the wash on her right, and to left were some recently built offices. In the corner was a single door and surely the exit, so she pressed down the handle bar and began thinking what an impressive accomplishment it was to avoid wolf whistles from old men in their overalls.

The door didn't budge. The racket echoed about the silent garage, especially the frustrated second and third attempts. A horrid feeling washed over instantly, that she was in a fine mess and wasn't sure what to do. Her heart began beating so hard it threatened to leap out of her chest, and the worry transferred to her wobbly legs, as she walked over to the nearest office window.

Kristin peeked inside but the chair was empty, there was a red folder opened on the desk with a pen resting in the middle, and beside that was an open laptop with earphones plugged in. There was a very worn board behind the glass, which showed the assigned duties for each man on the roster. There were eight in total, while another few fell under the ill and holidays categories. On the opposite side, there was a small yellow bus parked inside the second wash closest to the back wall. The ticket bus sparked a memory from the evening, and she worked through the fog to recall a petty argument with Deirdre, which then led to their separation.

The canteen – that's where these guys are, and one of them will have a key. She returned to the centre of the garage, and it was a like a private catwalk to see the young woman in only her undergarments strut and stumble to an audience of parked cars. Her heels made their last step by the tire store, however, as an odd sound caught her attention.

It was a man speaking on a walkie talkie, followed by a sharp beep, and the process would repeat. It seemed close, but every time she felt she had chosen the correct one, she had to approach a different point. It came from the cab of a bus in the second line, a man from headquarters babbling from the speaker. The latest noise was a fallen tool; the clang filling the air from must what have been the far side of the depot.

"Hello?" she called again, "Could someone help me, please?"

She then stayed on course with the new strategy, walking over to some storage facilities where the path led to the toilets. Through that doorway, and on the right, was the kitchen and a locked door which prevented access to the changing rooms for those without the code. Kristin pushed open the first door to be greeted by five white tables, a fridge, sink and microwave.

Under the TV/DVD combo...was a man, slouched in his chair. Her mouth closed just as soon as it opened – draped over the chubby worker's shoulder was a red strap, a ladies' handbag clutched in his arms. Her lips pursed with the tension, but not only was the fellow's back turned, he had drifted off for a nap. She slowly reached for the handle, almost skidding on the tiled floor in her nervous escape.

It was obvious now it wasn't some hooligan passengers on the Nitelink that took her things, it was these shameful employees! The shutters are up day and night in this place, every bus goes through maintenance, none of this made sense. She turned the corner of the walkway once more, past some railings and an old table covered in filthy cloths and parts.

Suddenly, the grumble of an ignition could be heard as the engine of one of the two dozen park buses switched on. This of course trumped the hissing, the fuel pump and her anxious heartbeat combined, and the vibrations lured each of her senses to it, no matter what was waiting.

Walking along the back line, Kristin felt out the powered presence and went the opposite way. Adjacent were more store rooms, a stack of cushions and underneath those were three pallets. Another bus fired up, and she appeared to be right in the middle of the two. Her logic was limited in her condition, but she concluded that it was a game.
chrislebo

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These automobiles weren't doing this themselves, and when she called for assistance only a moment ago, no one was interested. Out of the corner of her eye was another of the staff, and this one was carrying a black sack, dumping the contents in one of two skips available. She put herself out of sight, but the man went about his work like it was just another night.

That's when the third bus joined in, and this was no more than twenty feet from her location. The three rumbled in a symphony of pulsation, and one of them even revved the engine for extra effect. If there were indeed eight men on duty, she was now aware of about four or five. Two big feet lost the fight against gravity and jumped to the ground, his footsteps disappearing, but enough to alarm Kristin as she crouched by the emergency door of the WV.

She remained that way but progressed, under the windows and middle doors. More footsteps – more buses switched on. She covered her ears, the beasts may aswell be driving over her head given her state. It was not the time to be thinking about it, but it was foolish to leave her friends and try to make her own way home. It was stupid to get smashed beyond belief to celebrate a significant improvement in her grade point average.

She reluctantly went down to her knees, the heel of her feet popping from the shoes. The grimy floor welcomed her pale skin, and the two became fully acquainted when she made the decision to slide her entire body underneath the bus to her right, just behind the front wheel. She had lost count now, a good ten or twelve of them were working their monotone madness, but thankfully not the one directly above.

That possibility soon became a probability, however. Two black boots made their way over, laces so poorly tied that they hung over the sides. They stopped, turned for a moment, and didn't move again for an entire sixty seconds. Their owner spat carelessly by the wheel that Kristin had one hand resting on, while she swallowed a scream and held her nerve. The worker finally rounded the bus in the next row; it rocked slightly under his leap up the steps and the cab door slammed.

She winced as she felt her chest pressing into the repulsive filth, the dusty mechanics of the vehicle only inches above her shoulder length hair to boot. She heard a bus pulling away, and that seemed to be the signal for the one right next to hers to start up. Eventually, all three of them in that vertical row had left their parking spaces behind and her hiding place was now a vulnerable one. Her breasts and legs scraped the ground, and they now looked like they had been through a hard day's labour with one of the boys.

Kristin pushed herself up and ran by the employees' cars without looking back. There had to be an exit at every corner of the garage and so it proved, her heels clicking past the second skip and the pit on the far left. She pounded on the thick door but to no avail, the callous brutes had secured every emergency outlet. Some steps presented themselves, taking her to a mechanic's back yard. The grated steel caught one stiletto, and considering how much they had slowed her down anyway, she opted to peel off the shoes and carry them instead.

She journeyed through the lower levelled pits. There were seven openings in total, allowing the experts a clear view and access underneath the parked buses. Across from those were numerous presses, with countless wrenches, bolts and boxes of those light blue surgical gloves.

She noticed a yellow trash can, labelled "rags", while the other one said "Oily rags only." Lifting the lid, for a moment it looked as if her prayers were answered, tops and pants galore. On closer inspection, every one of them was cut into pieces and none could pass as an outfit, the idea being that they are small enough to fit in your hand.

She observed her scantily clad figure, humiliated at running around half naked with black marks in many places. Her high heel pumps dangling from two fingers, she approached the other staircase. Obviously, those three departing buses had nowhere to go, and they seemed to just be laying and waiting. She cautiously finished the last step and peeked down the side, finding two men, one inside a running bus, and the other with his arm resting against the windshield.

"What do you want!" she screamed, adding a second for good measure.

They wore navy overalls, usually a couple of buttons unfastened, hoods, and white dust masks revealing only their eyes. The barefoot student did work up enough courage to advance, passing some railings and the office window where these guys receive their pay packets. By the notice board, she came to a halt, as still these louts hadn't responded. She went to the shelf where employees punch in, removing a card from its place and checking for those who had clocked last night or later.

"What do you want, Darren Murphy? How about you Aaron Byrne? Fuck you...Brian O'Neill....fuck you and fuck your masks!"

Kristin caught her breath, holding the rail in frustration and anger, and the two workers merely looked at one another, rather amused by the outburst. She had thrown the cards wildly on the ground in a feeble attempt at attack. These were not men of mystery, she thought, they were just men, with names and jobs, in a government owned company. They simply had to stop holding an innocent person against her will immediately – period.

Instead of pointing to the exit, the nearest fellow passed her his trusty black bag. Before she could explain how preposterous this was, she had been urged onto the AX by the persuasion of a gloved hand at her back. Out the front window provided some comfort, as the garage shutters were finally up, revealing a dark, early Saturday outdoors. Behind her, the standing man, without speaking, picked up a coffee mug from the floor and spared the rest of the rubbish, placing it in her new sack.

The message had been delivered; at least he felt it had before a rough push to the shoulder was required. Kristin glared back at him, his unflinching brown eyes showing that it was no joke. The bus jolted, shifting forward and eventually outside the large entrance, as the woman got to work.

Bottles, cans and papers were all tossed in, as she scoured between the seats, right up to the back window where someone had kindly discarded an apple. As she returned to present her findings, she met a finger pointing upstairs. She figured that if she played along, soon they would quit the pranks and she'd be curled up under warm blankets in no time.

The long bag rattled as she climbed the stairs, the bus just starting to accelerate, but within a couple of seconds the driver put on the breaks. Kristin, even while keeping hold of the rail, lost her footing and her left knee paid the price on the edge of one step. Sympathy from the other guy came in the form of the tapping of his watch under his sleeve.

Wincing in pain, she ascended to the top and began bending under seats to find hidden garbage. Again the bus gathered as great a speed as it could in the premises. Have you ever pressed the 'stop' button and stood up while on the upper deck, as your destination drew nearer, only to find yourself struggling to walk? Well, now imagine flexing and reaching in those conditions.


Most of the crap in this one was near the back, and that was two Heineken cans, a crisps wrapper, and, you guessed it, that lovely spot of sick in the corner. This was her bus. She held on tight as it turned and appeared to return inside the depot, past some lockers and a forklift. As she approached the stairs once again, she made sure to give the finger to that large, circular mirror, no doubt facilitating some spying down below.

Kristin made her way down and met up with her instructor, who calmly exited the front doors and expected the woman to follow. He strayed by some wheelie bins, so she took this as a sign to make the dump here. Then, she fetched her expensive heels that she had left by the cab, and headed towards the exit. Job done – lesson learned – don't litter, etc. etc.

'Byrne' had a firm grip on her slim wrist, however, and she hadn't even been successful in leaving the AX at all. She scowled at him, saying that they had had their fun, but she was quickly led away so that the bus could position itself. Her shoes dropped out of her hands near a shore and she continued to walk on the unforgiving ground, sometimes rising on her toes to avoid the gritty rasp against her delicate soles. Welcome to the bay. Where a near one hundred buses pass through each night, and where only one in the entire fleet remained without service on this night.

She was guided to one of two seats, the other stacked with newspapers and a half empty, two litre bottle of water. A pair of gloves were flung on her lap as she took in the area; two, long yellow hoses on the ground, tangling with each other. She comforted the developing bruise on her knee and shook her head, both at the madness of it all and the murkiness of her own brain at the time.

The 18 tonne monster entered her picture once more, there was actually very little space for it to maneuver the turn between the paths, so it grunted at the strain of the driver spinning the wheel as far is it would permit. 'Kavanagh' pressed the green button on the wall, and what followed was a deep thump inside the vacuum, eventually providing powerful suction in both tubes.

The bus lined itself nicely on the bay, the middle doors facing the seats, while the fuel and oil supply were on the far side. Three times she barked to be let go, and each time the men, now three of them including the shunter, blatantly ignored the plea. This had to be the coldest point of the building; it was near open shutters and the buses only provided heat once you were close to them.

She fixed a loose bra strap, rubbing her shoulders to combat the chill. Her decision to make a run for it was short lived, as one of those large figures pre-empted the idea. There was a WV behind the bay, so the only available space was through him - or through the wash. The same men drew nearer and offered her a vac, a once in a lifetime opportunity to be one of the boys.


chrislebo

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"Go to hell", she snarled. She hadn't even put on the rubber gloves.

"I want my clothes...and I want out of here!" came the next screech, so effective that a pigeon seemed to flee for its very life instead of continuing to search for bread crumbs.

They did the opposite. One of the ruffians had sneaked behind her and began unhooking her bra, as she squirmed in horror. A second man grabbed her arms and allowed the 34B top to slide off and expose her breasts. "Bastards", she repeated over and over, as they bullied the young woman towards the bus steps. She was ********** prodded with both hoses until she agreed to take one, only while hiding her chest with an entire arm. Trouble is, operating this vacuum require two of those, unless you were reasonably strong and familiar with the routine.

Debased by these lowly cleaners, she opted to do as she was told, as her nude form could inspire other ideas - or worse - violent ideas. She commenced the labour, pulling the hose so that she could complete the deck, snatching tickets, wrappers, tissues and everything that could fit between the nozzle.

Its width was such that a wider card than its diameter would get jammed, but a banana skin is instantly sucked in for its travels. She humiliatingly let her boobs relax, knowing that six eyes were enjoying the show through the windows. Upstairs was the hard part. The tube was so thick and awkward that it had to be manipulated, and could easily get tangled on the way.

Indeed, this happened. Kristin had to return a couple of times to free it up, struggling up the steps so that it could reach all the way to the back seats that she had made a temporary bed. Her breathing was very heavy under the strain, and the old tube was adding to the filth already accumulated on her skin.

The unprotected hands got it the worst, and by the time it came to actually begin cleaning, she was exhausted. There was always a pull against her on the damn thing, and her muscles were aching. She wouldn't have believed it at the time, but only one man per night vacs the upstairs of every bus in the depot.

For the vomit, she took a deep breath and held it, otherwise she might create some more at the mere odour of emesis. She still didn't know for sure if it was hers, but the workers probably assumed it was. Once it had been cleared, some quick footsteps could be heard - Kavanagh, the true gentleman that he is, had saved her the trouble by fetching the mop.

The sudsy water dripped to the floor as she reluctantly took it, and with some of the windows opened, she could actually hear clapping down below. The two gazed into one another's eyes for a few moments.

"Are they going to hurt me?" she whispered.

Just like his friends, he didn't say a word. She wiped the stain left behind from where someone had hurled and watched him follow the yellow tube road. Kristin returned downstairs herself, trying to manage both the hose and the dirty mop, and she dropped both on the way out, feeling the effects of the duties fulfilled. For the first time since it began its route earlier tonight, the bus was cleaner than she was.

A strong arm lifted her to her feet once more, and that always meant there was somewhere else to go. Her breasts bounced as they felt the warmth of the bus through its air holes and exhaust. All four of her new colleagues rounded the back and mounted the platform, the closest she had been to that humming of the fuel pump since she woke up in this God forsaken place.

The ticket bus she had observed earlier wedged her between the walkway and "her" bus, as the men retrieved the oversized trigger from its barrel, removed the cap and inserted it inside the filler. The counter was activated and began adding in the hundreds. Their boots clanked on the steel floor, a floor so polluted it would ruin a pair of runners within seconds, never mind the bare feet of a woman. She cowered by the barrel, already tattooed in dirt and her energy waned. Why were they doing this? How do they think they can get away with it?

A well lit hut was at the end of the path, containing a clip board, some company sheets and a red stool. Once Byrne had made his notes, he pointed to the bus and demanded Kristin take care of it. What she didn't realise was that the fuel hadn't automatically discontinued yet, a distinct click being the signal if the fuel/oil man was reading the latest chapter in his book while he waited (Curiously, the counter did not face the hut). She reached for the trigger, removed it and the inevitable happened – it hadn't finished, and the out of control liquid was splashing against the bus and right back onto her exposed flesh.

The workers howled with laughter, as the naked college student dropped it a couple of times in the panic. Eventually she managed to put it back, but her legs were drenched and she was nearly in tears, arms wailing in annoyance. Barely enough time to settle down, the trainee was next off to the oil. Truthfully, AX694 did not need any, but the three jerks had to finish the job - and that meant lifting out the gun and emptying it somewhere else.

Kristin released a gasp of horror as she felt the greasy sludge build in the back of her panties, the last of it dripping from the valve as 'O'Neill' waited for the tank to click. She was afraid to even touch herself back there; the material was now completely black as the slimy oil merged with her backside.

She stumbled from the bay, disorientated from the fumes and disgust. The three had quickly circled her, nudging her back to the passenger side of the bus and leaning her against the window. They were all tall men, but none over six foot one, and O'Neill was the shortest of the group. He had black, curly hair peeping out from the hood, while Kavanagh had an ear pierced and was well built. Byrne, the shunter, donned a cap with the logo of the city's most famous football club.

They were mostly interchangeable, though, masked figures pestering her at every opportunity and loving their little games. Byrne took her wrists and began binding them, using a fairly thin rope that she had seen earlier to tie stacks of cushion seats. When she kicked out at him, Kavanagh was soon on the case to calm her down - he clutched her oily panties and in one swoop they were torn from her body. The rope was passed through a slight opening in the window; O'Neill had recently gone about shutting all of them in both decks as it is one of the responsibilities before moving the bus on.

chrislebo

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It was tied to one of the bars for the luggage section, and the brunette felt the wrench of the twisted fibres in her suspended arms against the side of the vehicle. She writhed in irritation, fully exposed to the workers and tied to the bus like a prized ornament. Byrne could hardly help himself, his latex gloved hand roaming her soft skin, five fingers sliding from her torso to her inviting chest.

He squeezed one of her supple tits, perhaps finally showing his true colours, circling her nipple repeatedly. Oddly, Kristin smiled back at him a moment, though this was probably because she was planning to catch him right in the groin with her good knee.

His mates cackled at his failure, watching him collapse to the pavement and hold his injured testicles. O'Neill had securely fastened the bondage, while Kavanagh shut down the vacuum. The wash switch went in the opposite direction, as he palmed the red, circular button. Through the small gap between the wall and the bus, she could see the rotating brushes kick start – it was time for a shower. And this would be no ordinary shower; it would be a truly cleansing experience.

The bus shifted into gear and advanced from the platform, as Kristin anticipated the 15-20cm extra she would have to drop once said platform had ended. She could just about reach the ground on her tippy toes, the nail polish from this morning a distant memory, and her feet and rear end were so greasy it didn't bear thinking about. Slowly the bus moved in the tunnel of the bay, the water sprays already intense.

The bristles made contact with the public transportation, they were in this together now whether she liked it or not, the ropes tightly attaching her. The naked girl screamed to her heart's content, at least managing to turn 180 and face away from the imposing brushes, as they were spinning wildly and beginning to abrade her fragile skin.

The bristles did their work on her fuel contaminated body, as she walked with the bus' every movement, even faster during this point but the rope didn't budge. She hugged the dusty-turned-saturated body of the machine, pressing her face against the glass and squeezing both breasts into panels. The bristles had passed but the noise of this twenty year old bay was never ending, and the squirting cold water painted her back, ass and legs as clean as a whistle.

Finally, the system shut down, the structured bars retreated and thankfully before the second brush had encroached her position. Her screams, having been lost so easily in the clatter had now subsided, and she cried silently to herself through the side window. She waited for whatever was next in store, whichever cruel prank they had thought of ******* her to undergo. She was utterly sober by now, so she could not even go missing in the hazy world she had been in a short time ago.

After a couple of minutes, she dared to peek out. Kavanagh, with his loose laces was chatting to a lanky individual in a long white coat. O'Neill startled her, but this time his hand was only intended for her unpredictable mouth. He clasped it with the greasy rubber as Byrne left the driver's seat to stand directly in front of her assaulted body. The foreman seemed upset about something; the Nitelink had been handed over to the depot at 3:15, yet over an hour later it was only being serviced now. Also, although it was a four man job, it was the last bus of the night after a gap of two hours, so it was common practice to have one volunteer take care of it.

"Wait a minute...", said the foreman.

No, it's not what you think....Kristin screamed into the glove for help and jerked aggressively on the restrain - surely it was unmissable! The boss was allowed inside, stepped towards the cab, swiftly found what he was looking for, and with his back turned to the huge wash, called over Kavanagh once again. His head dropped, his lips parting to attempt making an excuse, but there wasn't one.

The foreman adjusted his oversized spectacles and held out his hand. Kristin could feel the tension among the assailants, her own sky blue eyes as wide as theirs as they waited, her arms so tired and throbbing. Once again, there were but two sounds, the hissing and the humming, and on the human side of things there was the breathing through two nervous noses.

"What's this?"

At last, his hand unfurled....to reveal a tiny bus fare receipt. The trainee had carelessly overlooked it, but as Kavanagh was the vac man for Friday night, it was only he who could shoulder the blame. The supervisor left him with the crumpled waste and returned to his personal office (Rumour has it he had downloaded every episode of 'Dexter'). Meanwhile, O'Neill and Byrne skipped over the puddles of water and started discussing plans for socializing that evening.

Kavanagh, sweeping brush in hand, met up with his buddies once he had scooped up a pair of black, designer high heel pumps and placed them in the trash can nearby. She was lost for words as she remained trapped inside the wash, listening to their fading management complaining in the middle of the garage, as they headed back to the bathroom/locker rooms after a good day and night's work.

"He's such an arsehole"


The End
chrislebo

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#6,077
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Damn Car

I cursed the day that I'd sold the damn car, and then I double cursed the cursed damn day that that I'd bought the damn thing!

Damn car!

I'd fancied a Porsche all my life, and I found myself there, me pushing thirty, a four year old Ford outside our house, and just about enough money in the bank to pay the difference. The difference that is between my old Ford and the considerably older but none the less beautiful red Porsche 911 that I'd been drooling over for the last four weeks every time that I passed it in the garage in town. The registration number even featured the letters GAD. Got it? George and Debbie!

I talked to my wife, pleaded, cajoled, joked and made every sought of promise imaginable, and at last she came round and agreed that we could splash our hard earned savings out on the object of my desire.

That I guess was my first mistake.

On reflection, Debbie and I weren't really Porsche material, the Ford being more our type of thing, maybe some GTI or other, or even an MX5 perhaps. But as I'd said, I'd fancied a Porsche for so long that I couldn't wait to get behind the wheel once it was mine.

"Golly George," Debbie grinned at me the first time she sat in it. "I'm not sure I feel right in a car like this."

"You look great dear," I told her happily, smiling at my pretty young wife, imagining how much better she'd look sat there in a shorter skirt and skimpy top, than the sensible dresses that she habitually wore.

That was part of the problem I suppose, neither of us being 'clubby' types or lovers of the bright lights. We were both schoolteachers at different schools in our little town in Bedfordshire, where we'd both been teaching since we'd left college. I'd been there nearly five years and Debbie, some two years younger than me a little less. We'd met at college when I'd plucked up the courage to approach her in her first year to ask if she wanted to share my blotting paper, as it seemed that we were the only two in the class who still used a real fountain pen. She'd looked terrified at first, not knowing how to respond, having no idea that I was going through the same emotions.

Quite how we got there will always remain a mystery, but for the rest of that year we went steady, even though it took me till our sixth date till I actually got round to kissing her. Debbie really was a pretty little thing, only five two, with long brown hair that she almost always kept done up in a bun. She was slim and nicely put together in a homely sense, breasts not at all large, but very firm and pert, not that I was to confirm that till much, much later. As you will have guessed perhaps, I graduated, got my job in Bedfordshire, and when Debbie followed a couple of years later, then marriage soon followed within months.

So there we were, me and my sensibly dressed wife sat in our Porsche, and didn't we feel grand! I set off on our first trip, surprised at the power available compared to my previous cars and absolutely loving it. And I continued to love it for the next four months, rather inconveniently just out of the three-month guarantee that it had come with.

The first time I heard the noise I ignored it, imagining that it would just go away. The second time I simply couldn't pretend that it didn't exist, and by the time we got home that evening from school, we both knew that something was amiss.

A trip back to the garage where we'd bought it didn't help much, as all they did was direct us towards a specialist over in Luton.

"Gear box trouble mate," the oily mechanic informed us with a sad look on his face. "All sprockets and grommets these things. I wouldn't want to take this too far with a problem like that."

You can imagine we were both desolate, all our savings having gone into buying the damn thing.

"I've got a spare one in the back," he cheered us up with. "If you leave it with me then I could have it done by Wednesday."

Well, at least that cheered us up, and Debbie gave me a cuddle and a little smile of encouragement.

"How much?" I asked feeling more confident.

"Three grand for the box plus labour," he floored us with.

"Three thousand?" I screeched in disbelief, my innards running cold at the prospect of such an impossible sum.

"Yes mate," he confirmed. "Three thousand plus another grand or so for the labour and gaskets and things. Plus VAT of course.

Oh ****!

-----------------------------

Our house was a pretty sad place that night, with Debbie trying not to blame me, though every time she looked at me her eyes showed the evidence of tears trying to break through, and it nigh on killed me with shame for what my indulgence was about to cost us.

"We can't afford it you know George," Debbie spoke out at last.

"I know honey," I agreed broken up. "I'll ask the guy what he will give us for it."

"I'm sure it'll be Ok George," Debbie assured me, though the look on her face told me that she knew full well that it would be anything but so.

-------------------

"Not interested mate," the mechanic informed me the following morning. "Once the gear box has gone on a car like this, then it'll be something else. I don't need trouble like that."

"But what can I do?" I pleaded with him.

"Stick some thick oil in the box to quieten it down, and then get shot of it mate," he suggested rather disinterestedly.

"But I couldn't just sell it to someone else knowing there was a major problem," I protested. "That wouldn't be honest."

"Stick it in the car auction then mate," he went on. "Then you won't even have to see the poor mug who buys it."

"Thanks for nothing," I thought as I carefully drove the damn thing home that evening, praying that the noise wouldn't suddenly get worse, and having no idea what to do.

That evening the two of us talked it over for hours, hating having to take advantage of some poor soul, but not knowing what else we could do. Duly, the following Saturday found us buying the extra thick oil, and most of my Sunday morning was taken up swapping the oil, no easy feat at the best of times. The Porsche was delivered to the local car auctions in Bedford the following week and we sat back to wait. A call on the Friday confirmed the good news that the car had indeed sold, but the bad news was that the top bid had been far below what we had paid for it. We'd expected the auction price to be less than we'd paid of course, but it was still a hard knock to accept.

"Well that's your dream over for a few years honey," Debbie consoled me, as we looked at the replacement second-hand bog standard Volkswagon parked where the Porsche had so proudly sat, our savings blown on our unfortunate escapade. "But at least you lived it for a few weeks."

"Thanks sweetheart," I sniffed back and took her in my arms and pulled her tight. "The important thing is that we've still got each other."

-----------------

Life went back to normal for about three weeks, our sensible car doing all that was asked of it, getting the pair of us to and from school each day. Of course questions we were asked about the sudden disappearance of the Porsche, which had caused such a stir when it first arrived in my school car park, but we brushed them off with claims that we'd simply changed our minds when we realised how much the running costs were going to be. Not quite the truth, but close enough, and to be honest a bit of a face-saver.

---------

"Mr Adams," the voice on the other end of the line demanded when I picked up the phone one evening shortly afterwards. "Mr George Adams?"

"Speaking," I confirmed.

"The Mr George Adams who used to own the Porsche 911, that was sold at the Auctions the other week?"

My legs went weak and my stomach knotted, knowing that the ****** Porsche had come back to haunt us.

"You still there Mr Jones," the now threatening voice demanded. "It was you who sold it I presume."

"Yes," I mumbled back uncertainly. "What can I do for you?"

"I think you know what this is about Mr Adams don't you?" the voice stated, and my silence did nothing but confirm it.

"So what are you going to do about it Mr Adams?" the guy on the other end went on. "What are you going to do about the duff gearbox you passed off onto me?"

"Gearbox?" I queried, well aware that I was on a loser. "What gearbox?"

"I'll tell you what Mr Adams," he went on, ignoring my denial. "We'll come round to see you to discuss the matter. We've got your address off the paperwork and we'll be there in about half an hour, so you'd better be thinking about what you're going to do about it."

Before I could say another thing, the phone clicked off and I was left standing there, shaking.

I called Debbie and told her what had happened, and she burst out crying.

"I told you we shouldn't have bought that damn car," she sobbed. "I knew it would lead to trouble."

We were still standing there when only a quarter of an hour later, the front door bell rang. I sent Debbie into the other room, and gingerly opened the door, my claims of no responsibility half worked out in my head, when three men, big men, brushed past me.

chrislebo

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#6,078
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"Right then George," the middle one with the closely cropped hair and scar on his face said to me. "Where's my ******** money you stupid bugger?"

"What money?" I murmured back, taking in his six foot odd height, bulky build and grim expression. "You bought the car, we didn't make any claims on condition, so the gearbox is your problem."

"Like a broken leg would be your problem you mean?" He shot back roughly. "And that would be just for starters."

"What do you mean," I spluttered, the horror of our situation hitting me. "You wouldn't."

"Don't piss me about sunshine," he shouted back at me, the anger in his dark threatening eyes shining through. "Ten thousand quid on the button and the car's yours again, but you'll have to go and pick it up down in London where the ******** gearbox blew up. That's what I paid for the ****** thing and that's what you're going to give me back."

"But I haven't got ten thousand pounds," I told him. "That's why I had to sell it."

"Well you've got half an hour to find it sunshine," he threatened me; stepping up and shoving his face up close to mine.

"But I can't," I answered back as confidently as I could. "You can't get away with this."

"Hurt him a bit Jimbo," the leader said to the huge black guy stood next to him. "Don't break anything though ---- Not yet."

I found myself backing up across the room as the human nightmare moved towards me. I admit it --- I was terrified, ****** terrified. This Jimbo character was even bigger than the first guy, with muscles that seemed to have muscles built on them. His bald shaven head only added to his frightening appearance.

I yelped in pain as he grabbed my arm and twisted it, bringing it back up behind my back, till I thought it would surely snap.

"Get off him you brutes," came my wife's scream as she charged into the room, unable to stick to my instructions to keep out of it. "Leave him alone."

"Well what do we have here then?" leader man grinned nastily as he took in my pretty young wife. "You're a pretty little thing aren't you?"

"Bit skinny if you ask me," the third lout, a long lanky scruff of a man piped up. "But pretty enough I suppose."

"Nice little pair of tits though by the looks of it," the leader cut back in with. "Can't really see though with that big jumper she's got on, can we."

"Shut up you bastards," I cried out at them, but all I got for my trouble was even more pressure on my arm.

"Leave him alone," Debbie pleaded as I yelped out in pain again.

"Break his fucking arm Jimbo," came the response.

"No please don't. Please don't," my wife screamed as my yelps turned to squeals of agony.

"Hang on there a minute Jimbo," the leader instructed my tormentor, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt the pressure relax on my poor joint.

"Take your jumper off darling," he ordered my poor Debbie. "Let's see what you've got."

"No I can't," she sobbed back at him, a look of horror on her face. "I've only got my bra on underneath.

"So much the better, " the one holding me growled. "Come on girly. Give us a show."

"No!" Debbie cried back the tears streaming down her face.

"Shall I break his arm now Ted?" Jimbo asked casually of the boss man.

"No please," Debbie sobbed.

"Get your kit off girly, or we break his arm," Ted snarled.

"No, please no," screamed Debbie in anguish. "Alright, I'll take my jumper off."

"Don't do i....." I started but I was cut off with a further wrench to my arm, that all but made me pass out.

My own eyes were watering up in a mixture of pain and ***********, as I watched my wife hesitate then reach for the bottom of her jumper and slowly pull it up and off over the top of her head. She stood there, her lovely pert breasts clad only in her lacy little bra, and her eyes cast down to the floor, too ashamed to look up.

"Not bad for such little tits," the third lout commented.

"I quite like little tits sometimes," Jimbo, the black hulk still holding me countered. "Especially little white tits like this little girly's got."

"I think I agree with Jimbo," Ted, the leader laughed out mirthlessly. "Them tits look pretty good to me, and I think we should see them properly."

My objection was cut off by another squirt of pain, and Debbie just stood there saying nothing and doing nothing, as the three of them stared at her with grins spread all over their cruel faces.

"Now you know that I could tell Mike here to take your bra off for you don't you my little darling," Ted growled at Debbie. "And neither you nor hubby here could do a thing to stop it."

"I know," mumbled Debbie, hardly audibly.

"Sorry, what was that you said?" Ted teased my poor wife. "Didn't hear you properly."

"I know you could, you bastard," Debbie spoke up fiercely staring him in the eye, and standing up straighter. "Why don't you just get on with it?"

"Not so much fun darling girl," he explained. "I want you to take your bra off yourself. I want your wimp of a husband here watch you bare your own tits to us, and I want him to feel the shame for trying to cheat me."

"No, I won't do it," Debbie replied her voice breaking with emotion.

"Christ I'm really enjoying this you know," Ted remarked to nobody in particular. "I wonder how we can persuade you?"

Debbie just dropped her head, at a loss to know what to do.

"Tell you what little thing," he continued after a few moments. "You take off your bra darling, and we'll leave you in peace for the time being. We won't hurt limp dick here I promise you."

"You promise?" Debbie responded hopefully. "You really promise?"

"I promise darling," he laughed back, knowing that he'd hooked her. "You take your bra off and let us all have a grope of your tits and we'll let hubby here go."

"No groping," my wife shot back. "You didn't say anything about touching, just that I'd have to take my bra off. I'll do that, but no touching."

"Things change I'm afraid my little thing," he continued to tease her. "A strip and a grope. Not a lot to ask."

Debbie gritted her teeth and refused to be drawn, looking daggers at him.

"Ok then little lady," he grinned at her, lapping up her discomfort. "Mike there didn't seem so interested by your little tits, cute though they no doubt are, so we'll cut him out. Take your bra off and only two of us get to have a feel."

"No you bastard, no," cried my Debbie, shaking her head. "I won't do it."

"One of us then sweetheart," he counter offered, grinning all over his face, revelling in her discomfort. "Christ I'm really, really enjoying this chaps."

Debbie said nothing, just shook her head.

"Tell you what my pretty little thing," Ted carried on tormenting my wife. "Only one of us gets to play with them lovely tits of yours, and you can pick who it is. Jimbo or me, or even Mike if you want. How does that sound?"

"That or we break this wimp's arm that is," he added with a grim smile when she didn't respond. "Come on girly think about it."

"Well it wouldn't be you that I'd pick," Debbie snarled at him, thinking perhaps that she'd got one over him.

"Of course not darling," he countered her with. "Never expected you would. Now who is it to be my pretty one? Is it Mike or Jimbo that gets to feel those lovely little tits of yours?"

"Jimbo," whispered my wife causing my stomach to knot up as if some strange beast was scratching away at it.

"No Debbie," I cried out in despair.

"I've got to," she cried back, pleading with me to stay out of it.

"Please Debbie don't."

"I've got to!" she repeated.

"Jimbo, you've chosen then have you?" Ted resumed amused at our little conversation. "Lucky man."

Nobody said anything for some moments, the three of them just grinning at my poor dear wife.

"When do you want me to do it?" she asked at long last.

"Whenever you're ready my dear," he tormented her, putting all the pressure on my wife.

Slowly eyes cast downwards, she reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra, holding it in place for some moments before letting it drop away, her luscious round little breasts bared to all four of us, standing there like two ripe pairs, the tips visibly wavering about as she shivered with embarrassment.

"Come on then, damn well do it," she whimpered when nobody made a move towards her.

"Do what?" teased Ted, the bugger. "What do you want us to do?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Debbie replied between clenched teeth. "For God's sake just do it."

"Do what exactly my sweet?" Ted went back, not letting her off the hook. "Tell us exactly what it is you want us to do."

"Feel them," she sobbed. "For God's sake feel my breasts."

"I think she wants one of us to grope her," Ted announced to the other two. "Look how hard her nipples are. She must be desperate."

It was true!

Debbie's nipples were rock hard, as hard as I'd ever seen them, and they were bobbing up and down as she fought to catch her breath.

"Shut up," she screamed at him. "Jimbo, come and do it please."

But Jimbo didn't move. He was still holding on to me and knew perfectly what his boss-man was after.

"Seems he's a bit tied up darling girl," Ted almost crooned at my half naked wife. "He can't let go of your hubby and that lovely pair would be wasted on Mike."

Debbie sobbed, the movement making her bare breasts wobble even more, and earning a whistle of appreciation from Ted.

"That just leaves me sweetheart," he encouraged her. "Do you want me to take Jimbo's place?"

"Yes, just do it," she whispered, giving in.

"Ask me nicely," he taunted her. "You rejected me just now and hurt my feelings, so you'll have to ask me properly."

"Feel my breasts," Debbie said between gritted teeth.

"Say please," Ted demanded, knowing he was totally in control.

"Please feel my breasts," my wife whispered in reply.

"Sorry darling," he replied. "Speak up so that I can hear you."

Debbie looked up at him with a look of hate in her eyes. However she stood up straight, put her hands behind her back and thrust her naked breasts out at Ted.

They looked gorgeous! So inviting. Oh fuck it! I didn't want to look, but I simply couldn't tear my eyes away from her naked torso.

"Please Ted," she said slowly and precisely. "Will you please feel my breasts for me."

"Of course I will my dear," he replied with a grin. "Since you asked so nicely and obviously want me to."

With that he stepped towards her, reached out and took her left breast in his hand, first weighing it carefully, and then squeezing it gently but firmly, before rolling her hard nipple between his fingers. Debbie screwed up her eyes and gritted her teeth, trying her best not to let it get through to her. But the challenge was too one sided, and eventually a groan escaped through my wife's lips, as she pushed forward, thrusting her breasts out towards him.
chrislebo

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"Ok if I suck them Sweetie?" he asked her softly, his whole attitude seeming to change.

Debbie fluttered open her eyes, but nothing seemed to register with her, before nodding her head, throwing it back in passion as he bent down and took her other sweet little breast into his mouth.

This time the groan was louder and more purposeful, and she grabbed at the back of his head, pulling his mouth urgently to her breast, shoving it hard up to his enveloping mouth.

"Christ," laughed out Mike as he watched. "She might have little tits, but she's some goer ain't she?"

"She's ****** loving it," added Jimbo, as Ted reached down and started to flip open the buttons on her skirt.

And me?

All I could do was watch the awful scene being played out in front of me, desperately trying to deny to myself that my treacherous cock was reacting to the scene of debauchery. Hardly able to believe that my innocent young wife could be so easily seduced into such wanton behaviour.

My heart gave a lurch as her skirt, now freed, slid slowly down her slender legs till it puddled at her feet, and I could scarcely believe my own eyes as of her own free will, she stepped out of it and kicked it aside.

"Don't you just love them little white cotton panties," Jimbo commented, relaxing the pressure on my arm just a little at last.

"Yes Jimbo," his mate agreed readily. "Makes her look all sweet and innocent despite the way she's acting."

"I prefer my women in high heels normally," Jimbo remarked as if he was discussing what model of car he fancied buying next. "But them little white ankle socks look just dandy on her don't they?"

I'd no sooner taken their comments in, than Ted, the dirty bastard, proceeded to slide one of his big hands down Debbie's tummy, his huge fat fingers toying with the waist band of her knickers. To my utter astonishment and dismay, my previously naive wife, grabbed at his wrist but did nothing to stop him as his whole hand all but disappeared down the front of her admittedly fairly large knickers.

"Oh my God please don't do that," she groaned, her own actions nullifying any likelihood that her words would have any effect, and I had to stand there watching the brute manhandle my wife.

I simply couldn't describe the anguish and feelings of hopelessness that enveloped me.

I next heard a mobile phone ringing behind me, and to my surprise Jimbo simply let go of me, freeing himself to reach inside his jacket for his phone. By then poor Debbie's panties were half way down her thighs, her ample dark bush peeping out from between Ted's fingers, as he rubbed the palm of his hand up and down against her bare pussy mound, the slick wetness on his middle finger indicating far too graphically where it kept disappearing to.

I couldn't move though!

I felt paralysed; disgusted, but mesmerised by the sight of my wife being stripped and felt up.

Jimbo was busy on the phone and Mike was ignoring me, as he leant forward trying to get a closer view up between my wife's legs, but all I could do was stand there with my mouth gaping open, staring at that hoodlum as he physically ****** my wife's lovely trim body, right there in front of me.

"How does that feel darling?" Ted baited Debbie, as he slid his middle finger deep up inside her. "I bet my finger's bigger than your husband's cock isn't it?"

"Oh God yes," she gasped, which was a downright lie as it happened, but it didn't stop her from collapsing against him as he roughly fingered her, her gasps of pleasure, literally tearing lumps off me.

"Ted," called out Jimbo, holding his hand over the mouthpiece of his phone. "Got a problem boss."

"Can't you see I'm busy Jimbo?" He complained at him, hardly hesitating in his attention to Debbie's now completely naked body.

"It's Horseman," Jimbo explained with a look that everyone except me seemed understood. "He's gone wild again."

"WHAT!" exclaimed Ted, letting go of Debbie, who had to grab at him to avoid falling to the floor. "Horseman? Horseman? Is that fucker on the loose again?"

"Fraid so boss," Jimbo casually informed him. "We've got to go and sort him out before he kills someone at the club."

"Bugger him," Ted spat out, looking down at my Debbie who was still clinging on to him desperately, still lost in the throws of her own lust. "Sorry love. I've got to split. Next time maybe."

Debbie's response bought the last vestiges of my world tumbling about my ears.

"It's Ok Ted," she told him, even smiling at the bastard. "I understand."

I was left standing there on my own, totally desolate, as Debbie, my wife Debbie, accepted the thug's hand, and allowed herself to be led out into our hallway to see them out.

Bear in mind now, that this was my wife, my by now naked wife, having walked out of her panties as she'd left, just her sensible lace up shoes and little white ankle socks left, walking willingly out with three thugs who'd just ****** her body and held me so that I had to watch the whole deeply disturbing incident.

I stood there for a good five minutes, perhaps longer, my mind in a turmoil at what they might be doing to her on the other side of the living room door, as I waited her return. I know I should have done something. Reacted in some way, but I was simply totally out of it, in a world that I didn't understand.

My wife --- My previously shy and so reserved Debbie, out there in the nude with three strange men that we'd never seen till half an hour ago.

I couldn't believe it was happening.

I was paralyzed.

Then I heard the front door slam, and coming out of my semi trance, I rushed to spy out of the window, fearful for the moment that they may have taken Debbie with them. With relief I saw just the three of them get into the huge brand new looking Mercedes parked outside, and was able to relax just a tiny bit as they roared away.

What the hell was a guy like that, who could afford a Mercedes like that doing buying an old second hand car, even though it was a Porsche?

I didn't know ---- No idea, but the thought did occur to me.

"Sorry honey," she quietly said to me as she came back in, a large towel that she'd found somewhere wrapped round her to cover her nudity. "Guess I got a bit carried away there."

"Debbie," I virtually sobbed at her. "How could you? How could you act that way?"

"I'm sorry honey," she sobbed at me. "I've said I'm sorry."

"But for Christ's sake Debbie," I shouted at her, losing my rag. "You let him fondle you. You let him touch you. You let him feel your tits and finger you."

"What else could I do?" She cried out in despair. "They were hurting you and I thought they were going to break your arm or something."

"But ... But ... But, there was no need to let him do all that Debbie," I proclaimed. "There was no damn need to enjoy it for fuck's sake."

There ---- I'd said it!

"What did you expect me to do George?" Debbie retorted, losing her calm completely. "The damn man was sucking on my tits and sticking his fingers up my pussy. Right up inside me. I couldn't help how good it felt. I couldn't help reacting to what he was doing to me. Damn it George, I'm sorry if it upsets you, but it felt good and I lost control."

"But why did you have to go out into the corridor with them? You're naked for Christ's sake."

"I had no choice honey. They made me go."

"You didn't put up much of a fight did you?" I spat at her, wanting to hurt her, perhaps unfairly, but needing to strike out at something.

"I didn't put up a fight?" Debbie screamed at me. "What about you, you wimp? All you did was stand there and watch while they ****** me to strip. Your own wife --- You did nothing to stop them."

"What could I do Debbie," I sobbed in frustration. "That big black bastard had hold of me."

"He wasn't holding you when the three of them took me out into the hall was he?" She shot back at me. "Where were you when Ted invited the other two to have a quick feel. Where were you when I had three pairs of hands all over my naked body?"

"I don't know Debbie," I mumbled unhappily, images of Debbie, totally nude and surrounded by the three of them, unable to fend their hands off, swimming before my eyes. "I was just so shocked that I couldn't seem to react."

"Well don't blame me you bastard," she retorted in temper. "You insisted on buying the damn car, and it's me and my body that's paying for it."

There was a short silence while we stared at one another, rethinking our positions.

"I'm sorry Debbie," I blurted out at last. "I know it wasn't your fault."

"Thanks," she whispered back, unable to look me in the eye. "At least that's something."

"Well at least it's over honey," I tried to comfort her.

"You think so?" She questioned me sadly. "Because I don't think so."

Oh ****!

She was probably right.

----------------

The next few days were not easy for either of us. If I wasn't reliving the horror of seeing that bugger Ted stroking Debbie's body, then I was wondering quite what the three of them had done to her just before they left. I simply couldn't ask her about that, especially since she kept breaking down in tears every few hours.

When the call that we had been dreading finally came, it was in some weird way, almost a relief.

"Why don't you and your lovely wife Debbie pop down to our club tomorrow night," Ted asked us. "I think I've got a solution to our little problem."

"I'd rather not," I found myself responding, caught out completely by his suggestion.

"That or we come over to see you again," he went on, making it more than clear that his suggestion was an order, whichever way I looked at it. "And that might not be so nice for you as I don't like wasting my time."

"OK, I'll be there," I promised, not seeing any way out of it.

"Not just you," he snarled. "You and that lovely wife of yours. In fact you needn't come if you don't feel like it."

"We'll both be there," I promised him, and got the address off him, of a club called the Yellow Duster, which I'd certainly never heard of before.

"I trust you haven't mentioned our visit to the police or anyone George, have you?"

"No," I replied, though it was only Debbie's fear of retaliation that had stopped me.

"Very sensible," Ted informed me. "Don't you worry too much. I'm sure we can sort this out."

****** great!

Early the next evening found Debbie and I nervously stood at the door to the aforementioned 'Yellow Duster'.

"It's a lap dancing club George," Debbie said, reading the spiel at the entrance. "What's that? How do lap's dance?"

"Oh it's a sort of men's club," I replied, wondering if we should bugger off and emigrate to Latvia or something.

"There's a picture here of a girl dancing round a pole of some sort," she went on, examining the single poster by the door. "It looks kind of fun."

"Yes dear," I agreed with my unworldly wife, really not wanting to cross the thresh-hold of that place, my heart pounding at the thought of what Ted's solution to our problem might be.

"Come on then let's go in and get this over with," Debbie sung out as she grabbed my arm and pulled us both through the door.
chrislebo

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"You members?" A dodgy looking man in a cheap suit and a thin moustache greeted us inside the dingy looking establishment.

"No we've come to see Ted," I told him, pleased to see that Debbie now had a nervous look on her face as she clung on to me.

"Mr Walters said someone was coming," the doorman grunted, eyeing up my wife up and down as if he was examining a piece of merchandise. "He said you were a pretty little thing sweetheart and so you are. In you go."

Before our eyes had even adjusted to the gloom inside the club, Jimbo from the previous evening came up, grabbed Debbie's arm and whisked her off behind the bar, casually telling me to follow them. We went through a heavy wooden door and found ourselves back in normal levels of light in a rather scruffy office full of filing cabinets, where Ted was sat behind a huge, grey, metal desk.

"Ah! There you are my lovely," Ted greeted my wife, ignoring me completely. "And all dressed up nicely as well, I see."

It was true, and somewhat against my will, Debbie had dolled herself up for the meeting. Now when I say 'dolled up', what I mean is put her best 'going out' clothes on, though they were hardly sexy or anything, or even terribly fashionable for that matter.

"Now you come and sit on my knee young lady," he ordered her, and with a frightened look across at me, she nervously approached him and plumped her shapely bottom down on his lap.

Jimbo had positioned himself in between the two of us, so even if I'd had the nerve, I couldn't intervene.

"Now this solution I have involves you, young lady," he started, confirming my worst fears. "Now normally when I interview new female applicants to work here, I have them strip for me, but since I've already seen and felt the goods, I think we can give that a miss for the moment."

"Now hang on there," I started to object, but to my astonishment Debbie interrupted me.

"Let's hear what he's got to say George," she suggested.

"Very sensible young lady," Ted grinned at her. "Glad to hear that you're not going to be difficult."

"So what job am I being interviewed for?" she demanded somewhat more confidently than I would have given her credit for. "If you think I'm going to be one of those strip tease dancing girls, then you've got another think coming."

"We don't call them that anymore," Ted smiled in amusement. "Besides, an innocent little thing like you would need a fair bit of training before we'd let you do that."

"So what do you expect me to do then?"

"Waitress to start with," he told her, sliding his huge hand round her slim waist. "Then maybe try you behind the bar perhaps."

"Well," Debbie started nervously. "I've never been a waitress before, but I guess I could manage that perhaps."

""Now look here. I'm not ....." But my objections were cut short by a nudge in the ribs from Jimbo, that all but laid me out.

"How long do I have to work to pay the debt off?" Debbie asked Ted, throwing me a sympathetic look.

"Oh --- we'll see how it goes darling," he told her. "How many nights a week can you manage?"

"Two perhaps," she ventured uncertainly.

"Let's call it four then," he over-ruled her. "You start at nine each night till we close."

"What time would that be?" Debbie queried, but Ted simply shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

"Well the sooner you get started, then the quicker you'll pay the debt off," was the closest that we got to how long she'd have to work for, and the conversation that followed made me feel quite queasy.

"We're short of a girl tonight Debbie sweetheart, so you might as well get your outfit on and get out there," he told her, handing over a couple of tiny articles made of some silky material.

"But everyone will be able to see my bra in this top," complained Debbie, examining the tiny slip of material

"No they won't," he grinned back at her.

"Yes they will," she insisted, holding it up against herself. "Look, there's hardly anything to it, it's open right down the front, and in any case it's a bit see-thru."

I gulped; glad to remember that She'd put on a sensible bra that evening, one that wouldn't show off too much.

"They won't be able to see your bra, sweetheart," Ted assured her again.

"But they will," Debbie protested. "Look, there's nothing to it."

"They won't see your bra because it's not designed to be worn with one," Ted delighted in informing my wife. "None of our girls wear a bra when they're here, so that's something you won't have to worry about."

"But then they'll be able to see my ....."

She broke off and visibly gulped, as the implications struck her.

"Only when you bend down," Ted carried on. "You'll get a lot more tips that way as well, so you ought to practice how to give the clients a flash."

"A flash," Debbie exclaimed in shock. "You mean you actually expect me to flash my breasts at the customers?"

"Of course sweetheart," he laughed back. "It's a ****** night club. Once you've settled in you can let some of them have a feel as well if you want, and then you'll really rake in the tips."

Debbie stood there silently, her mouth gaping open, trying to take in what she'd just been told, even more surprises coming as Ted continued.

"Have you got those old fashioned knickers on again?"

Debbie simply nodded.

"Well you'll have to get yourself some new ones, thongs and things, as the clients won't like them much."

Debbie picked up the miniscule mini skirt, and we were both able to see why what panties Debbie had on, would be apparent.

"They'll do for tonight though I suppose," Ted carried on nonchalantly, ignoring both our looks of horror. "Unless you fancy going without of course, like some of the girls do."

"Without?" Whispered Debbie. "You mean without any panties in a skirt as short as this."

"Perhaps not," he said thoughtfully.

"Thank God for that," Debbie exclaimed in relief.

"No ---- You'd better get your pussy shaved before you go commando. Perhaps another night when you've got used to the guys out there mauling you. You should give it a go though, because the tips are so much better."

Oh ****!!!!

Before I could gather my wits, Jimbo started to usher me out of the door, leaving my poor embarrassed wife standing there.

"Get changed then darling, you've got customers out there."

I tried to resist Jimbo, only too aware that Debbie had already started to undo the buttons on her blouse. As he ****** me easily out through the door, my last sight of Debbie was of her easing her blouse off her shoulders, her little white bra out on view.

"What time shall I come and pick her up?" I asked Jimbo in desperation.

"No need mate," he replied as he edged me out of the club. "We'll make sure she get's home safely.

"But what time?" I demanded, the thought of poor Debbie taking her clothes off back in that office etched in my mind.

"Who knows?" He replied. "Depends how well she does and whether any of the customers want to chat to her afterwards or whatever."

Oh ****!!!!!

---------------------

You can imagine!

I walked slowly back to my little Volkswagen, in a daze, never having expected to be going home on my own, furious at having to leave my dear wife in that place on her own.

The journey home was a nightmare, and I had to pull up a couple of times when I thought I was on the point of bursting into tears or something. I thought about going and buying a gun or something, but in the UK, that is all but impossible for an ordinary guy like me.

When I got home it was no better, and neither the TV nor my magazines could hold my interest for more than a few minutes, and eventually I spread myself out on the sofa feeling sorry for myself and worrying about how my poor Debbie was coping.

Midnight passed then 1 am, and Debbie was already out later than she had been for years. I think I may have dozed off at some point, but was bought back to reality by the growl of a powerful car pulling up outside. In an instant I was at the window, stunned to see a gleaming Aston Martin DB9, parked outside. A hundred grand's worth of car at least, and the bastard was making us go through this turmoil for an old Porsche. Why the hell had he bought it in the first place?

My heart pounded as I stood there watching the car, unable to see what was going on inside, fearful of letting my imagination run riot. After what seemed an age, but probably wasn't, the nearside door opened and a pair of long bare legs swung out. A lovely pair of bare legs that were familiar to me, with a pair of high heels on that weren't. Debbie closed the door behind her and leant back inside the window for a moment. Long enough for a kiss, but probably not so, the miniscule skirt that she had worn home rising up over her bottom to expose her white cotton panties. Well at least she had kept them on by the looks of it.
chrislebo

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She tottered up the path on the unfamiliar heels, turning to wave at the powerful car as it pulled away, tugging at her little skirt as it rode even further up her thighs. By the time she got to the front door I was there, and Debbie jumped back in surprise as I opened it.

"You're still up," she called out huskily.

"Of course I am," I confirmed, staring unbelievably at her partially covered breasts, and the two darker circles that I could clearly make out through the thin material. "How was it? Are you OK honey?"

"I'm Ok, but very tired George," Debbie replied, her eyes visibly drooping with fatigue. "I need a shower and then my ******"

"But what happened honey," I pleaded with her, desperate to know what she'd gone through, praying that she hadn't had to endure too much unwanted attention from her customers.

Just wanting to know for Christ's sake!

"Tomorrow honey," she said as she gave me a quick cuddle. "I really don't want to talk about it tonight and I must smell like a brewery with all the booze that's been spilled over me tonight."

With that, she uncurled herself from my arms that had encircled her, and left me staring after her as she wearily made her way to the stairs.

"But Debbie please," I called out after her, following her to the foot of the stairs, unsure whether to enjoy or feel disgusted at her white panty clad ass, as her skirt rose even further up her thighs as she took each step.

"It's OK honey, but not now dear ---- tomorrow," was her parting shot as she disappeared from view, leaving me stood there frustrated, confused and unhappy.

-------------------

She eventually did come to bed of course, but was in the shower an awful long time. She asked me to hold on to her, and within moments she was fast asleep, which is more than I could say for myself.

I lay there most of what remained of the night, pondering what life held in store for us. Wondering quite what indignities Debbie had been ****** to put up with earlier, and torturing myself with what she might do in the weeks to come. Angry with myself that there didn't seem to be anything I could do about it.

The next morning came too early, and we both got ready and left for our respective schools, me avoiding the questions I needed to ask, and Debbie avoiding my eye. The day seemed to last forever, and needless to say I didn't perform at my best.

Then I went home!

"We need to talk," Debbie greeted me with. "I couldn't face it last night, but we really need to talk."

Of course I concurred immediately, and after I'd got us both a nice cup of tea, we sat down together to start our discussion.

"Do you love me George?" Debbie started with. "I mean really love me?"

"Of course sweetheart," I assured her, wanting to hold her in my arms and make all the problems go away."

"Well last night George, I did things that you wouldn't approve of," she went on, causing my stomach to contract painfully. "I did things that I could never have imagined doing, and I let men touch me a bit. I let them touch me where a wife probably shouldn't allow other men to touch them."

"What!" I cried out, leaping to my feet. "What sort of things? Where did they touch you?"

"My tummy, my arms, and a few times ..... Well elsewhere," she whispered guiltily. "One guy ran his hand up under my skirt when I had a tray in my hands, and couldn't get away so easily."

"God Debbie," I shouted out angrily. "You don't have to go back there. We'll go to the police and tell them what's happening like we should have done at the beginning."

"We can't honey," my wife told me, with a tear in her eye. "They've got photos of me now in the club with my breasts popping out of that stupid little top, and even one of some man who I hardly remember giving one of them a squeeze. They've threatened to send them to my headmaster at school if we cause problems and I'd get the sack and never get another job."

"But damn it Debbie ....." I started to protest, but Debbie held her hand up for me to stop.

"That's not all George," she went on. "Ted said that if you caused any problems then he'd break both your arms and maybe worse."

"What are we going to do then," I asked pathetically.

"We've just got to go through with it honey," she told me. "With the tips I make then it shouldn't be more than three months or so to pay him back."

"But I can't expect you to go through that for three months Debbie," I tried to reason with her. "No husband should expect his wife to accept treatment like that."

"It'll be OK George," my wife continued, reaching up to put her hand on my arm. "I'll be OK, I promise you."

"No," I declared. "I just can't allow you to suffer like that."

"That's the worst part about it honey," Debbie then said, giving me a look close to despair.

"What is?"

"Promise you won't hate me George," she demanded.

"I could never hate you Debbie," I proclaimed. "What could be worse than the way they've made you suffer?"

"You're sure?" she asked nervously.

"Of course I'm sure," I replied, and waited to hear what she had to say.

"I enjoyed it," she whispered meekly.

"What!"

"I enjoyed it," she repeated. "The first half hour or so was truly dreadful, but once I'd got used to it, then it didn't seem so bad. Then one of the men there told me that he thought I was the prettiest girl in the place and asked if he could have a proper look at my bare breast rather than just the flashes he kept getting."

"The bastard," I muttered, unable to believe what my previously innocent little wife was telling me.

"He told me that he was fed up with all the big busted woman there, and thought that my natural little breasts were beautiful."

I breathed in deeply to calm myself. What the guy had said was true as far as I was concerned, but I couldn't stand the thought of my wife having to put up with crude comments like that.

"I did it honey," she continued, almost weeping. "I'm sorry but I did it. I pulled my top aside and stood there with my bare breast out letting him look at it. His friends as well for that matter. I'm so sorry but I just stood there sticking them out at the whole table to look at."

"I can hardly believe what you're telling me Debbie," I struggled to say, though I could also hardly believe what effect her words were having on me. I was upset and there was no doubt about that, but like before, my erection was actually making me feel uncomfortable.

Christ! What sort of husband did that make me?

"George," Debbie took up the conversation again. "You're taking this awfully well honey. Much better than I expected."

"Well ..... That is ..... Oh I just don't know what to say Debbie," and it was true. I was totally lost for words to describe my outrage, but couldn't pretend that other very strange feelings were emerging.

'There's something else then that you'd better know honey. Might as well get it all over and done with now I've started."

What next? I had no idea.

"The other night," she began to explain. "When Ted told me to take my top off, then I couldn't believe that I actually went and did it, but by the time I was down to just my panties, I was desperate to get naked. I felt so hot and horny George. I simply wanted to get the rest of my clothes off and I was terrified that they wouldn't ***** me into stripping completely. When he started to feel my breasts and things I just lost it totally. Then when all three of them had their hands all over me out in the hall, I was in heaven."

"Is that it?"

I think my voice squeaked!

"Just about," Debbie admitted at last. "I love you honey and I don't want to hurt you, but I can't lie. You mean too much to me to lie to you."

Oh ****!

Where the hell do we go from there?

------------------------

You think that was enough for any man?

You think it was finished for the night?

"I've got to go shopping tomorrow straight from school," she announced a little later, after we'd some how or other managed to get dinner ready and eat it. "I'll be a bit late home."

"Fine," I said. What else?

"I'm going clothes shopping," Debbie continued, staring over at me.

"Fine," I repeated. I wasn't being nasty, I'd simply had the wind knocked out of my sails.

"I'm going with Tammy," she went on gingerly, waiting for my reaction, which was to demand who the hell this Tammy was.

"A girl from the club," she replied, continuing to keep her statements as short as possible.

"You're going clothes shopping with a girl from that damn club?" I did react at last. "What sort of clothes."

"You know George," Debbie said in little more than a whisper. "High heels, some nice little thong panties, things like that."

"And how the hell do you think we're going to be able to afford that?" I nigh on exploded. She was in danger of pushing me just too far.

"Tips from last night."

"That's enough?"

"More than enough," she grinned at me more confidently. "I made more in tips last night than I earn as a teacher in a week."

What could I say?

Throw her out?

Dump her?

Divorce her?

Knock the living daylights out of her?

No of course I couldn't do any of those things, and didn't want to. The important thing was that she'd been completely honest with me and still loved me.

What could I do?

I really didn't have a clue!

Not a fucking clue!

chrislebo

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Well, she went and did her shopping and wasn't home too late. She didn't chose to show me what she'd worn, and I was too much of a prick to ask her.

We just carried on, and except that Debbie wasn't around for several evenings of the week, nothing seemed to change much.

Then came Monday the eleventh.

I remember the date for some obscure reason.

"Honey," Debbie said to me cuddling up on the sofa, while we watched Coronation Street on the box. I hated it, but she'd always loved it and me watching it with her was a sign of my love. "Ted's asked me to do something, but I told him I'd have to ask you first."

"He accepted that?" I queried, not remembering Ted as the sort of guy who asked rather than demanded.

"Yes sort of," replied Debbie. "He's really a little bunny rabbit when you get to know him."

I chose to ignore that remark!

"He wants me to be a dancer," she then hit me with. "I've been practicing at the club and he thinks I'm good enough."

"A dancer?" I queried.

"Yes a dancer," she confirmed, smiling back at me as if she'd just told me she'd got promotion at her school.

"Not wearing many clothes I expect," I ventured, recalling the photo outside the club.

"Not a lot," she blurted out. "At least, I'd end up without any."

"A strip tease dancer," I asked her. "My wife, a strip tease dancer?"

"They don't call them that anymore honey," she consoled me. "Exotic dancer, pole dancer, lap dancer, whatever. But they don't say 'strip tease' anymore."

"But you still take your clothes off?"

"Yes, all of them," she confirmed.

"Can I come and watch?" I surprised her with. Myself as well for that matter.

"I'd rather you didn't honey," she responded in surprise. "Ted isn't too keen on his artist's husbands visiting the club.

At that point, I nearly lost it. My wife had to ask her boss if I could watch her taking her clothes off, and he was probably going to refuse me permission????

Damn it!

Damn the lot of them!

Damn that ****** car!

----------------------

The next few weeks got increasingly impossible, as Debbie worked as a teacher every day and at the club four nights a week. It seemed we hardly saw one another as when she wasn't working, she was catching up with her *****.

Our sex life had all but disappeared.

"This can't go on Debbie," I announced one night when we were in bed, Debbie having come home absolutely knackered. "We've got no marriage anymore. You're killing yourself."

"You're right,' she replied to my surprise. "I've been thinking about it and I'm going to pack up at the end of this week, and we can be more like it was before."

"Thank God for that," I told her happily. "Whatever the problems, we'll sort them out honey pie."

I took her in my arms and pulled her towards me, intent on doing the dastardly deed with my wife, albeit the first time for two or three weeks.

She fell asleep!

Oh well ---- There'd be another time I told myself.

--------------

Of course asking her to pack up working at the club and the reality of it were two different things. I had no idea how much of our dept had been paid off, and quite what the implications of us not being able to pay the rest off was something that we had yet to face.

But face it we would, and we'd face it together.

"That's it," she announced towards the end of the week. "I've quit! I've given my notice in and we'll have more time for one another."

"What did they say?" I asked somewhat nervously.

"They weren't very happy at all," Debbie told me, her face creasing up a little. "But they accepted it, and so that's the end of it."

"No repercussions Debbie," I asked my heart beating. "That's really the end of it."

"Absolutely George darling," my lovely wife confirmed. "That's it! Finished! The end!"

Glory be!

I thought we'd never get through it, and I owed so much to my wife for going through what she had experienced. I didn't know how to thank her, but vowed that I would find a way.

The weekend passed, and we clung to one another a lot, though she was so tired that we only managed a couple of short sessions.

Nothing special, but a new start ---- A new beginning for the pair of us, out of the clutches of those hoodlums, and just the two of us.

Monday morning I had to leave early for the music class as usual, and I left Debbie eating her breakfast as normal.

"See you this evening darling," I whispered to her, and she responded with a crushingly lovely smile.

Everything was going to fine again!

It looked as if our problems were over.

I should explain that on Mondays I started early, but was allowed to skip off the final lesson, and I rushed home, intent on having everything perfect for when Debbie came home. I wanted that night to be special. I wanted it to be the first night of the rest of our life.

"Hi honey," she greeted me as I walked in the door.

"Hi Debbie," I responded in surprise. "What are you doing home?"

"Making you a special dinner honey," Debbie grinned at me. "I'll be able to do that all the time from now on."

"But I don't understand," I mumbled in confusion. "Why aren't you still at school?"

"At school?" She laughed out loud. "Why would I be at school?"

"Because you're a teacher," I answered her, surprised at her answer.

"Not any more George," she smiled back. "I told you that I'd done as you asked and given my notice in. I'm not a teacher anymore."

"WHAT! But I thought it was the work at the club you were packing in," I uttered in astonishment.

"Why would I do that?" Debbie asked, a look of puzzlement on her face. "I can earn nearly as much in one good night at the club than I do in a month as a teacher."

"Yes but you have to ..... You .... You ......." I babbled on, unable to express what I was thinking.

"I have to show my tits and things off you mean?" Debbie finished for me. "So what? It's no big deal, and in fact I mostly really enjoy it."

"But all that studying and training," I mumbled on, her use of the word tits for the first time ever not lost on me. "All lost. All for nothing."

Not completely dear," she smiled condescendingly. "My main act is usually dressed up as a teacher lady. Not that the outfit stays on for long though."

"Not quite the same thing," I pointed out.

"Come on honey," she carried on, ignoring my comment. "Come and eat your dinner, because I've got to be at the club for eight O'clock tonight. There's a group of Quantity Surveyors arriving early from some conference and they'll need entertaining."

"Entertaining?" I spluttered, at a loss for words.

"Yes dear," Debbie smiled at me. "They're said to be a horny lot, so I should do well for tips."

"Tips?"

"Yes Chips dear," she answered. "Steak and chips, your favourite. Now eat up sweetie and enjoy it."

Oh ****!

What the hell had happened to my marriage?

****** hell ----- At least the chips were good.

--------------

Life continued and I did see more of my wife, though it was hardly the same as before. Her style of dress changed so radically that some of our old friends started to avoid us. Not many of the guys though, and our house became more and more popular as they called by, hoping to catch Debbie in the sexier and skimpier clothes she seemed to prefer.

The sex was better though.

But that's not everything you know.

------------------

Debbie became fairly evasive about what she actually did at the club, and question as I would, she didn't want to talk about it. Only that everything was still OK, and that the money for the Porsche was gradually being paid off.

Eventually one night I couldn't stand it any longer, and I found myself outside the club, wondering if I had the nerve to go in.

The same scruffy thin guy took my money, showing no recognition, and I found myself inside the place again. I have to admit that in the evening with a crowd of people in there, the place looked a lot better than it had looked the previous time, and I was surprised at how many women patrons were there sprinkled among the groups of men.

Then there were the waitresses of course, all rather stunning and in minuscule little outfits every bit as small as the one that I had seen Debbie in. I was approached by several of them asking if I wanted any company, the shock dawning as I realised that my Debbie must have been doing the very same thing. After about ten minutes my nipple count passed into double figures and I stopped counting, though I certainly didn't stop looking. Eventually I discovered that if I joined the group of men stood at the back, then we got served at the bar alongside, and the waitresses, or hostesses as they really were, stopped propositioning us. From there I had a good view of both the stages, hardly more than raised podiums where the girls were performing.

Now I'm a normal sort of male and I have to admit I enjoyed what I saw, as a succession of lovely women took their turn to take all their clothes off and display themselves quite openly to the men crowded round each stage. There was one little blonde that I was particularly taken with, and for some moments I almost forgot why I was there.

But still I could see no sign of my Debbie.

It was a good hour later that I saw Ted and Jimbo breeze through the club, and though I almost didn't recognise her at first, Debbie was with them. It was what she was wearing that fooled me!

No ----- She wasn't in a mini skirt and skimpy top, but quite the reverse. She wore a sensible skirt and a white blouse that covered up just about everything.

What the hell was going on?

Ted and his pals joined another group of men sat round in a sort of open booth, and Debbie to my surprise reached up and gave Ted a peck on the cheek, before going off behind the stage area.

"Pretty little thing ain't she?" said the guy stood next to me giving me a nudge, no doubt having noticed my interest in her.

"Very pretty," I replied shortly, not really wishing to get into conversation.

"She's the new girl," my new friend went on. "Only been stripping a few weeks, but she's got a lovely little body on her."

"I dare say she has," I replied out of politeness.

"You'll see yourself soon," he went on. "I think she'll be on next."

Oh Christ ---- The reality was about to be upon me.

Sure enough, the previous girl collected her tips from the guys round the stage and disappeared back behind the curtain. The compare came on and cracked a couple of smutty jokes, and then announced the girl that you've all been waiting for. Even the guys round me seemed to stand up to attention a bit more, and there was actually a ripple of applause as the compare made way for Miss Jones, as he described her.
chrislebo

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Then I got it!

Miss Jones, Debbie that is, came strolling out onto the stage in what I then recognised as her schoolmistress outfit, all prim and proper. She strolled round the stage glancing at the men stood there over the top of her obviously false spectacles, and appearing to tick off names on the pad she held as if taking the class register.

"Right!" She announced after a while, and the whole club seemed to go quiet. "You all seem to be here boys, so we'll start the lesson."

I noted that she had everyone's attention to a level that would have done any real class a credit.

"OK boys," Debbie went on. "What's the square root of twelve thousand six hundred and forty seven? To the nearest three decimal places, please."

When nobody answered, she just shook her head and tried another virtually impossible mathematical question.

"OK boys," She announced, frowning at everyone. "This really isn't good enough. I'll try another question and if the boy I choose gets it right, then he'll get to select what item of clothing I take off."

Debbie kept her frown on, even though by then everyone else was grinning happily.

"Right, you boy," she called out, pointing at some forty year old with a group of his mates. "What's two plus two?"

"Four!" Cried out the contented punter. "Please take your blouse off Miss."

Tutting away, Debbie slowly undid her blouse and discarded it, revealing one of her old prim and proper white bras. I hadn't seen any of them for some time, and wondered where they'd gone.

"You boy ---- In the green shirt," she restarted. "Where's your school cap?"

"Left it at home Miss," shouted back the hapless guy with a laugh, who was then refused a chance for being improperly dressed.

The bald boy at the back there," carried on my wife. "What's five times two?"

"Ten Miss Jones," he roared back. "Get your skirt off."

Say please you naughty boy," Debbie retorted with a mock angry look. "Don't be so cheeky in class."

"Sorry Miss," he came back immediately. "Please would you take your skirt off next?"

"Certainly boy," she smiled at him, and seductively unzipped her modest skirt that I also suddenly recognised from before, slid it down her shapely legs and threw it aside.

By this time I was a bit of a basket case, not knowing whether to be angry or just sit back and enjoy it. My Debbie wasn't simply a stripper ---- She was an entertainer, and was so obviously loving what she was doing.

"Best stripper in the place," my friend alongside me informed me. "Wait till you see her lovely little tits. They're ****** gorgeous."

"Told you so," he went on when another pupil managed somehow to calculate three minus one, and Debbie added her bra to the small pile of clothes behind her, her bare breasts out on display for everyone to admire, her nipples so obviously rock hard, even from that distance.

"Right boys, now concentrate," Debbie instructed the enraptured class of 'boys' gathered round the stage. "Whoever gets the next question right first will get to come up here and help me take these off," snapping the elastic of her thong panties. The whole lot of them seeming to lean forward to hear the question better.

"The square root of thirty six, times the square of five?" Debbie cried out to them.

"Hundred and fifty," I mumbled to the guy alongside me, amused as he tried to count on his fingers.

"Rubbish," he said. "It's ..... It's ...."

"A hundred and fifty Miss," shouted out some flash looking guy above the rabble around him a minute or so later.

"Correct boy," Debbie beamed at him. "Now come up here and collect your reward.

The flash git leapt up onto the stage, the bouncers stiffening to attention to make sure nobody followed him up there, and Debbie, the cheeky bitch, took his hand and led him to the centre of the stage, brushing up against him suggestively as she did so.

Till then, to be honest, I'd been a bit carried along in the swing of the whole thing. Taken in by Debbie's great act, and enjoying the sight of a beautiful young women taking her clothes off as all the other guys were doing. If I'm ****** to admit it then the fact that it was my wife made it even more intense. But what she'd said about some guy helping her off with her panties, suddenly struck home.

Suddenly I didn't want to be there anymore.

"Blimey," my friend commented loudly. "Can you imagine yourself up there sliding that piece of crumpet's knickers off. Can you imagine it?"

"Yes I can actually," I mumbled, feeling my chest tighten as I recalled how many times I had done that since we'd known one another. Not that anyone took any notice, too interested in watching as the lucky git up on the stage, got to slide his fingers inside her tiny panties and slide them down her legs. My insides churning as he leant his face forward, planting a kiss on her now naked pussy.

"Naughty boy," my stripper wife admonished him. "Do that again and I'll have to give you the cane."

But all that did was to encourage him to lean forward again and take a long lick between her legs.

"Six of the best for you boy," Debbie groaned, and not even I was sure if she was pretending or not. "I'll see you in the headmaster's study later."

Despite his attempts to prolong the encounter, the bouncers moved in and gently but firmly removed his hands from my wife's bare body, and propelled him back to where he had been sitting.

Debbie never gave him a second look.

That didn't however prevent me from feeling sick!

I'd seen enough!

All I wanted to do was get out of there. I'd known what she had been doing in theory, but the reality was more than I could stomach.

Worst of all ---- Yes by far the worst, was that Debbie so obviously enjoyed it!

What the hell had happened to my sweet little wife?

----------------------

I never admitted that I had been to watch her act, and other than her less modest clothes, there was little to suggest that she was anything other than she had always been.

My loving wife.

It came to a head however when I was teaching a group of elder kids one afternoon and was having great difficulty keeping their attention. They were all really young adults rather than kids and I'd always had a good report with that class. But that day they simply weren't with me, and were all sniggering over something that they were passing round between them.

"What's this?" I shouted out, grabbing the paper from one of them as he passed it across the aisle.

"Do you recognise her sir?" Nick Jones, one of the lads asked me. "We all thought she looked familiar."

My heart dropped as I looked at the sheet, which was a computor printout, and discovered to my *********** that it featured my wife, spread-eagled naked over the bonnet of a car. There was no doubt in my mind from the moment I saw it. Not sure why, but I just knew.

"It is your missus isn't it sir, another of the boys asked. "We found it on the internet."

"Of course it's not her," I blustered. "Looks a bit like her, but ....."

"But it is her sir," Jones insisted. "Look that's the Porsche that you used to own."

"WHAT!"

"Yes look sir, one of the others went on. "It is your old Porsche as we recognise the registration number with GAD. Why hasn't your wife got any clothes on sir?"

I couldn't answer.

"Is your wife an escort girl sir?" Asked David, one of the shyer boys. "She's very pretty and has got gorgeous tits sir. If you don't mind me saying so sir."

"What's an escort girl?" another of the lads asked the class at large. "Why is Mr. Adams' wife posing like that with no clothes on?"

"That's enough boys," I told them, trying to take back control.

"An escort girl is like an upmarket prostitute," butted in Jones, the 'know all' little bastard. "Mr Adams' wife looks like she might be one."

"How much does she charge sir?" Asked a boy at the back.

"More than I would," Angie Thomas butted in before I could respond, the girls in the class having been quiet up till then. "I'd do Mr. Adams for nothing."

"You'd do anything with trousers on for nothing," Jones yelled out.

"Not you I wouldn't you idiot," she shot back at him, standing up and sticking her tits out. "But if Mr. Adams wanted me to, then I'd strip off and give you all a show like his wife has."

"Behave yourself Angie," I shouted at her, acutely aware of how she had been flirting with me all year, and disturbed by my own reaction at the thought of her carrying out the act that she'd just threatened.

"Well she's got bigger tits than your wife has sir," another girl Natalie butted in. "Nice bod though."

"Shut up the lot of you," I screamed, having lost my temper in front of a class for the first time ever, knowing that they'd lost all respect for me.

"Is it really your wife sir?" Amie, the shyest girl in the class piped up in the silence that followed my outburst. "Why would she do that sir? Why would she put photos of herself in the nude on the internet?"

"I don't know ----- I don't ****** well know!" By which time I'd had enough. I charged from the room, my face red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, not stopping till I reached the sanctuary of the staff common room, where I sat close to tears for the rest of the lesson.

It got worse!

"Hey Jim," called out Tony, the geography teacher as he entered the staff room, unaware that I was huddled at the back out of view. "Have you seen those photos of George's wife going round the school?"

"Seen them," retorted Jim, the sports master. "I've been confiscating them half the ****** morning."

"Can I have one," Tony shot back hopefully.

"Me to if there's any to spare," added the new Chemistry assistant. "I don't even know the girl, but from what I've seen she's a cracking piece of crumpet."

"Lovely pair of tits," agreed Tony. "Would never have expected it of her though, I've met her a few times and she always seemed rather conservative."

"Not any more," laughed Jim. "From what I've heard there's a rumour that she's a stripper down at some club nearby."

"Maybe we should all go down one night and take a gander," Tony chuckled.

"We'll ask George if he can get us some tickets," giggled the new chemistry guy.

"I don't know if he even knows what his missus is up to," was the last comment I heard as the three of them walked back out of the room, on their way to their next lesson, all laughing their heads off at my expense.

My stomach was churning ---- Damn them!
chrislebo

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The upshot was that the assistant Head master eventually found me curled up in an armchair in the common room when I should have been taking the next class.

"You'd better take the rest of the day off George," he instructed me. Those photos are all over and everyone will give you a hard time."

In fact I ended up asking for the week off, and I guess they were more than happy to see the back of me.

And so to home!

I was staggered when I found the Porsche of all things, parked outside our house when I got home.

Things were getting totally out of hand.

With a heavy heart, I got my key out and entered my home.

-----------------

My mouth gaped open in shock as the first thing I registered upon entering our lounge, was that thug Ted, the bastard, slumped out on our sofa as if he owned the damn place. He looked up when he saw me and grinned.

"Long time no see George," he smirked at me, leaving me speechless.

"What was that you said honey," Debbie asked as she breezed into the room from the kitchen, totally missing the fact that I was standing there behind her.

"Nothing that matters gorgeous," Ted responded, holding his arms out to her, and pulling her onto his lap when she went to him, his great paw of a hand, closing round and totally encompassing her left breast.

Her action was bad enough.

It wasn't that she was wearing those ridiculously elevated CFM high heels, so much as that was all she was wearing.

Starkers --- Naked ------ Nude ------ It was all hanging out for Christ's sake.

"We'd better be going Debbie," Ted told her when he emerged from the passionate kiss that she bestowed upon him. "We've got a long way to go."

"Oh come on Ted," my wife replied, snuggling up to him. "We've got time to enjoy ourselves a bit surely."

"Not sure your husband George would be too happy with that Debbie," he told her, giving me a huge wink over the top of her bare shoulder.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him sweetheart," Debbie whispered to him.

"Maybe Debbie," the bugger teased the pair of us. "But since he's stood behind you, that could be difficult."

"What?" She cried out looking up at him, but all he did was grin and nod his head at her in confirmation, before turning his head towards me, and greeting me yet again. "Hi George!"

Debbie's body went stiff and rigid in an instant, till she at last turned her head slowly to look round at me.

"Oh my God noooo," she cried out, her face a picture of desolation. "George ---- I didn't .... That is I wouldn't .... Oh God no!"

Stand-off!

"Come on girl, get some clothes on," Ted broke the silence with. "We've got a ferry to catch."

"But Ted ....." Debbie started to protest, only to find herself dispatched towards our bedroom with a smart smack on her bare backside.

"Now don't be doing anything stupid George," Ted grunted at me as he stood up and towered over me. "So I've been fucking your wife, but there's no need for you to get upset. I'm the only one that's been getting her pussy."

"I'm supposed to feel good about that," I spat out.

"Why not?" he replied casually. "Most of the girls at the club are up for fucking anything with trousers on and some money in their pockets."

My mouth opened, but no words come out. Was I supposed to be grateful that he was the only one that was fucking her????

At that point Debbie came rushing back into the room, still pulling a skimpy top on over her bare tits.

"Please don't get too upset George," she appealed to me, trying to take me in her arms as I backed away. "It's all been for you honey."

She was still looking back at me as Ted led her off out of the door.

"We're just off to the South of France for a few days honey," she called back to me. "I'll only be gone a few days and then everything will be OK. We can go back to how things were before."

"Fat chance," laughed Ted as he propelled her towards the Porsche, giving me, the loser, a look of derision.

-------------------

The next day was worse than a bad dream, and the equal of any nightmare that I could remember. I heard nothing from Debbie, and her mobile didn't even give me the option to leave a message.

Not that I was at all sure that I even wanted to.

After two days of hearing nothing, I even plucked up courage on the to ring the club were she worked, but the whole place seemed to be in turmoil from the answers I was given. Early the following evening I drove over there, not knowing what else to do.

One minute I was all for divorcing the bitch and the next close to tears worrying about where she was. Worrying whether she was all right.

The club wasn't open when I got there which surprised me, so I settled down to wait in my car. Over the next hour or so any number of cars turned up, waited a while then drove off again. By ten, it was obvious that the club simply wasn't going to open that night, and for some reason that made me feel bad, and even more cut off from Debbie.

What was I to do?

I drove slowly home, pulled over in front of my house, and wearily started up the pathway.

"Mr. Adams?" A deep voice by the side of me surprised me with. "Mr. George Adams?"

My heart dropped, remembering the last time that had happened and dreading what was coming next.

"Your wife is Mrs. Debbie Adams?" the large man in a suit carried on after I'd confirmed my identity.

"Yes," I reacted automatically. "Where is she? What's happened to her?"

"That's what we'd like to know," the voice carried on. "Would you like to continue this conversation inside sir, or would you like to accompany us down to the station?"

For the first time I looked up at the large man who had hold of my arm by then, and for the first time noticed the uniformed police officer stood alongside him.

Oh ****** hell! ------- What now?

----------------------

I chose my own living room, not wishing to be dragged down to the local nick. I was in big enough trouble with the school already without having to explain that away if anyone spotted me being taken in by the local coppers.

WRONG!

Not the local Bobbies by a long chalk!

"Do you know where your wife is at the moment sir?" They asked me, and I'm being polite when I use the term asked.

"Do you have any idea at all where she might be?" They demanded more forcibly when I told them that I didn't.

"Do you know when she is due back?" He carried on when I mentioned the South of France, which didn't seem to surprise him.

"She said a couple of days," I mumbled feeling inadequate that I had no idea where my own wife was.

The guy looked at me almost angrily for some moments, and then turned to his colleague.

"Take him in Norman," he instructed the uniformed man. "I don't think Mr. Adams is telling us everything he knows."

Despite my protests, I was dragged from my house and ushered into a squad car, and whisked off. But not to the local nick as I'd expected, but much further, where they plonked me in a cell to await my fate.

It took two hours of questioning till I at last convinced them that I knew nothing more, and even then they refused to give me a lift back and I had to find my own way home. The one thing that I did discover that my Debbie was involved in something serious.

*****!

Serious *****!

But I knew no more.

That night when the phone call came, I wasn't expecting it.

"George? Is that you?"

"Yes Debbie," I responded immediately recognising her voice. "Where the hell are you? What's going on?"

"No time honey," she sobbed back, half breaking my heart despite what she'd done to me. "Listen ---- You have to do something."

"Collect the Porsche and put it in the garage," she instructed me, after refusing to explain anything, except to tell me where it was, the other side of London, and where she'd put the spare key. "I'll be back in touch as soon as I can."

"But where are you?" I insisted on knowing, or refusing to carry out her wishes.

"Jimbo and me are at a friend of his in Tottenham," was all she'd tell me, bursting into tears when I asked her for some reason, where Ted was.

Then she was gone!

The next day I caught the train down to London, and the tube out to the suburbs and picked up the Porsche, which was exactly where she'd said it would be, and drove it home. Couldn't put it in the garage as it was too full of stuff, so I left it outside as we usually did with our cars.

-------------

"See the Porsche has re-appeared Mr Adams," DI Jenkins of the **** squad as I now knew him to be, greeted me as I opened the door early the next morning. "I've got a search warrant for the house, so we'll take a look at the car as well while we're here."

In fact they weren't really too thorough with the search. Didn't seem to be over-interested. Almost as if they knew they wouldn't find anything. They loosened some dog they had with them through the house, but he didn't seem any more worried about the place than they did.

"Try the car," Jenkins told the dog handler, but that didn't evoke any more spark from the dog, and with a shake of his shoulders, the handler cleared up and left.

"Heard from the missus?" the DI demanded, albeit somewhat more friendlily than the last time.

I simply looked at him, wondering what the hell to say.

"The car didn't get here by it's own accord sir," he pointed out patiently.

I guess at that point something inside me snapped. Maybe it should have done so long before, but ..... Well it hadn't. Not till then.
chrislebo

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What the hell was Debbie up to?

How involved was she?

Why the hell should I take the rap for what her and those hoodlums had done? For Christ's sake, she had been fucking one of them behind my back.

I told him everything, finishing with the information about Jimbo's friend in Tottenham, at which point Jenkins smiled broadly.

"Got the bastard!" He exclaimed, and with a word of thanks shot out to the waiting police car and made off with tyres squealing.

-------------

I nearly missed the breaking news on the television. You know those banner things that go along the bottom of the screen and spoil your concentration. I just caught the end of it and had to wait a good ten minutes till it came through again.

'MAJOR ***** BUST SHOOT OUT IN NORTH LONDON THREE KILLED'

My heart sank.

Debbie, my Debbie ---- Had she been shot? Was she dead? I no longer knew whether I loved her or hated her, but I didn't want to see her dead.

-----------------

I searched half the night, desperate for more information, trawling through the news programs, the internet and God knows how many wasted phone calls, but all to little avail. All I could discover was that the police had raided a house in Tottenham in north London and there'd been a shoot out, and three men had been shot dead and two policemen wounded.

Three men!

Yes men!

By no imaginable mistake could my Debbie be mistaken for a man could she?

Could she?

They got things wrong all the time, the press. But ..... But they couldn't get that wrong, could they?

****! Did I really care anyway?

------------

Well of course being the British press, they did get it wrong, though not as far as Debbie was concerned. In fact only two guys were killed, though another was wounded, but my Debbie was arrested and charged. It appeared that they'd been involved in running ***** from Northern Africa, through Spain into France and then on into the UK.

I didn't shed a tear when I discovered that Ted, bless him, was no longer with us and gone to meet his maker up above there somewhere. Some other guy, a Frenchman that I'd never heard of copped his lot as well, and Mike --- You remember Mike? ----- Well he'd been badly wounded and would eventually end up losing his leg.

Jimbo had been arrested at the same time as Debbie, and those two and four or five others were to be put up on trial.

And I'd shopped them.

Did that worry me?

Well not now that half were dead or disabled and the others in jail it didn't.

"I'm so sorry George," Debbie sobbed when I went in to visit her the first time. "I've done such awful things."

We chatted some more about how we were going to afford a decent lawyer to defend her, though from what I heard it seemed to be a cut and dry case. Trouble was that I hated the sight of her, but couldn't stop loving her ----- Not easy.

"Don't sell the Porsche George," she insisted, but when I asked why she simply looked around her, no doubt wondering who might be listening.

It was on my second visit that we were allowed to talk more privately.

"I suppose you've been wondering why Ted bought our Porsche honey," she said, and of course I had. "The gang bought powerful cars that wouldn't attract too much attention to smuggle the ***** in. They cut holes in the wings or whatever, hid the ***** away and then welded the wing back up so nobody would notice."

"You mean they did that with our Porsche?" I asked in astonishment. "There's a secret compartment?"

"I think so."

"But they had their dog all over it Debbie, I informed her. "They didn't detect anything."

"Our Porsche wasn't used for ***** George," Debbie told me in a whisper. "Buy yourself an angle grinder thing and see what you can find."

"Do you know what's in there?" I queried.

"Not sure," she whispered to me. "But it must be worth investigating."

------------------

I went straight home and cleared half the mess out of the garage, enough to make room for that damn Porsche. Having put it in there, I left the ****** thing there, half afraid of what I might find if I started to investigate.

Several months later the trial come to court, and Debbie was sentenced to twelve years in detention, but that meant that with good behaviour she could be out in eight or nine.

Jimbo wasn't so lucky and got a twenty stretch, coupled with a list of other convictions. He wouldn't be out for a long, long time.

Eventually curiosity got the better of me, and I went out to the hardware shop and bought myself an angle grinder, and set to work. Four hours and several cuts and bruises later, the wings of the car were a mess.

But I found it!

I found the hiding place.

My hand shook as I reached inside and extracted the surprisingly big leather bound parcel that was hidden there, and I dropped it on the floor, terrified that it might explode on me or something.

Plucking up the courage to investigate further, I took a knife to the package and slit it open, not knowing what to expect to find inside, and not knowing what the hell I'd do with them if it turned out to be *****.

What I didn't expect to find was Euros.

Not pounds or dollars but Euros. ****** thousands of them, all bundled up in tight bundles. Not unnaturally I started to count them, but after ten minutes I lost track of where I was. It was only then that I realised that each bundle had twenty notes in it, so all I had to do was check the denomination, and they were all fifties or hundreds, so that was easy.

Half an hour later and I had the total. Four hundred thousand Euros!

Ok, I may have made a mistake or two, but who was worrying about that?

Four hundred thousand ****** Euros.

At the time that was the equivalent of well over three hundred thousand pounds. It must have been the money they were going to use to pay for the *****.

****** hell! Decision time!

-------------------

It didn't take me long to decide not to declare the money. It obviously was obtained illegally, but not by me, and the only person still alive or with enough sense to know about it would be Debbie, and even she didn't seem to be too sure. I worked out later putting pieces of information together that Ted's gang drove down to France with money hidden in one car, and swapped it for another identical car that had the ***** hidden in it. Just a matter of changing the plates over and nobody would be any the wiser. That's obviously why they decided to re-use our Porsche, to match the identical one that the French crooks had already.

Maybe my tipping the coppers off that they were on their way to the South of France scuppered the exchange. I didn't really know, but I hoped I'd been responsible in some way.

So, was I going to tell her?

Was I going to tell anyone?

How on earth was I to convert Euros into pounds?

Well I did tell her on my next visit, but claimed that there was only twenty thousand euros hidden away, and that I'd keep it to help her when she eventually got out. She seemed surprised that the sum was so low, but if Debbie suspected me of lying, then she never mentioned it. She had enough problems of her own by then.

Next to get rid of the car.

How do you get rid of a car with lumps cut out of the wing? Not easy!

Eventually I patched it up as well as I could and drove it over to the Porsche guy we'd talked to before, giving him some story that it had been vandalised. Not sure if he believed me, but the first thing he did was to open the engine compartment. That's in the back by the way, for those who don't know about Porsches.

"It's got a replacement gearbox," I told him.

"It's got a new engine and gearbox," he informed me to my surprise.

Anyway, we struck a deal and I walked out with a cheque for nine thousand quid, which was a lot more than I'd been expecting considering the mess I'd made of the thing.

As you can imagine, I was pleased to see the back of the damn car.

I quite deliberately didn't change my lifestyle so as not to attract attention, though I did buy myself a few new things at Marks and Spencers, where they accept Euros. I put our house on the market at a very reasonable price. It was attractive to first time buyers and the market had risen since Debbie and I had bought it, so four months later I left the solicitors office with another cheque for forty-two grand.

Nor bad eh?

Not only did I have money, but I then had an excuse to spend some of it. The cheated husband making the most of what he had left from his messed up marriage.

A trip down to the Casino in France more or less solved all my problems of making the euros legal, when I left the place after a hectic weekend with a certified legal cheque for three hundred and forty seven thousand, six hundred and twelve euros. My winnings!

I guess somewhere if someone searched deep enough, then they could have discovered the three hundred and ninety two thousand that I'd invested in order to walk out with that cheque. Ok, so I'd lost forty odd grand, but what the hell. The Casino covered the cost of my hotel stay for the weekend, and whatever the beautiful nineteen-year-old French blonde cost who kept me company. She could do things with her ..... Well, that's another story.

chrislebo

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Well, what else?

The Porsche was gone and the Volkswagen soon followed it. I thought about getting myself a new Porsche, but simply could face it, my dream of owning a Porsche, long since spoiled.

Didn't stop me getting an Aston Martin though did it?

Not the top of the range model, the Vantage being sufficient for a simple guy like me, and I lorded it around town showing it off to all and sundry, never actually going back to teach at my old school.

----------------

"Hi," said the pretty little dark haired beauty with the big tits as I parked my Aston outside a restaurant one evening shortly after buying it.

"Hi gorgeous," I threw back at her, by then getting into the swing of attractive women of all ages taking more interest in me since I'd bought the Aston.

"It's Mr Adams isn't it?" The lovely thing asked me to my surprise.

"Yes," I replied, wondering what she was after.

"Don't you recognise me sir," the girl grinned at me.

Sir? Sir?

It had been quite a few months since anyone had called me sir.

"Mandy Davis Sir," she carried on. "I was in the fifth form when you first started teaching at our school."

Oh yes!

Oh boy yes!

The sexy little schoolgirl that all the male teachers lusted over but never dared do anything about.

Mandy Davis ----- Crikey, was she a cracker. I did a quick mental calculation as to how old she would be by then, and decided that perhaps with a bit of luck, that thirty might well go into twenty-one, whatever her last maths teacher might have said.

It did!

We did!

The pair of us ended up shacked up with one another in a swish apartment in La Rochelle on the South West coast of France, and when we started to look for something other than bonking one another all day and all night, we bought a boat. There are lots of them in La Rochelle, and we ended up with a three-year-old forty footer that we rented out to rich Europeans during the summer, with me as skipper (OK, I had to do several courses to qualify), and Mandy as the cook come hostess.

It was great. No, really it was for nearly two years, till the hostess side of Mandy's job became more important then the cooking part, and I walked in on her 'entertaining' one of our male guests, a guy who had more money in his piggy bank than I had in the world.

We parted friends, me having got together by then with a billionaire's discarded trophy wife, an ex model, Russian girl not much older than Mandy, who was paid off several million to release her previous husband.

Will it last?

No ****** idea, but I just think it might.

----------------

Ok, so what about Debbie, you're thinking.

Still loved the girl in my way, but there was a lot of water under the bridge since then. She's due out in less than two years now, and probably thinks I'm still waiting for her.

Maybe I am?

Then again, maybe I'm not, and if you saw Elka, my beautiful, Russian companion, then you'd understand why.

Now by chance, just like the French girl at the Casino, Elka could do things with her...... No never mind. I won't bore you with little details like that.
chrislebo

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Bull Rock


"Fuck yeah!!" grunted Rock aggressively as he slowly pushed the head of his thick swollen 11-inch black cock against the sphincter of Pam's waiting white ass. "Give me that ass."

Covering Pam's left ass check with his large black left which stood out stark black white contrast to her pale white ass, Rock pulled Pam's cheek wider open. Pushing the shiny black mushroom head of his 11-inch cock harder against Pam's sphincter with his right thumb, he finally pushed his thick cock head past Pam's sphincter. In response to the welcome intrusion, Pam gasped with pleasure and relaxed to accommodate Rock's massive girth.

Arching her back and pushing her heavy D-cup breasts into the silk sheets of her bed, Pam reached back to spread her smooth round white ass cheeks wide, totally giving up her ass to Rock. As Rock demands, her ass is his alone. Pam desires with all her being, and with her husband's strong encouragement, that her virile Bull totally own and dominate her in bed.

"This white ass is yours taking anytime, any place, you want, Rock." she seductively purred.

In her mid 30s, blonde, 36D breasts, flat stomach with thick strong legs and ample junk in da trunk the way the brotha's love, Pam knows she could have any man she desires. Dressing conservatively, or slutty, Pam turns heads no matter where she goes; be it church or night club. Nothing fulfills her needs more, though, than knowing that her body is the sole property of a powerful black Bull while benefiting from the financial security and deep emotional connection with her more ******, but totally predictable husband, Steve.

As had been the case for the past year since Rock first cucked her husband, Steve's only access to his wife's ass has been to clean Rock's creampies from it when rewarded for adhering to the rules. Otherwise, Steve's only other access to his wife's ass has been to lube it with his tongue and saliva when demanded by Rock to prepare Pam's ass for his cock.

Willingly accepting Rock's sexual superiority and totally submitting to it, Steve finds extraordinary and inexplicable gratification in yielding to Rock absolute and exclusive sexual access to his wife. By doing so, Steve fills his deep seated need to satisfy all of his hot wife's physical needs as he had promised to himself when they were first betrothed. Secondly, through some type of psychological associative principle, Steve takes great pride that the woman with whom he shares a hand in marriage can attract and fulfill the primal desires of such virile black Bulls as Rock.

"Push it in deep, baby", said Pam with a sexy growl. "Bury that big black cock in my ass. Balls-deep. Fill up my ass. Show Steve who owns this ass. Show him how a real man works this white ass." says Pam as she takes more of Rock's cock in her ass.

Looking up from the sight of his throbbing black cock now a full 7 inches into Pam's bowels, Rock glared directly at Steve standing quietly in the corner of the expansive and lavishly furnished master bedroom. Standing naked, Steve was steadily stroking his 7-inch white dick to the enthralling and erotic sight of Rock's turgid cock impaling his wife. Catching Rock's menacing glare, Steve immediately stopped stroking his dick.

"Did Pam say you are allowed to cum?" demanded Rock in his deep baritone voice. "You forget the rules, or something?", boomed Rock with authority in Steve's bedroom.

Standing 5'10", fit, with good muscle definition and handsome enough to have won the incredibly sexy Pam's hand in marriage, Steve had returned his eyes to the spectacle of Rock's enormous cock penetrating his wife's ass. Raising his eye from this irresistible sight, he met Rock's and Pam's combined glare.

Although fit, Steve's physique was nothing compared to the bulk of sharply defined muscle, the power, and the sheer virility of Rock at 6 feet tall, late 20s, dark black with the looks to make any woman cream her pussy. Just as important, out of necessity Steve's general demeanor had been molded by corporate America. To survive and thrive in the only profession he knew, he had to become like them. He had to become a well-mannered corporate automaton. He was not the badass Rock who was molded by the streets and instilled fear. He was not the badass Rock who could make Pam's pussy cream.

"No sir. I haven't forgotten the rules." meekly replied Steve.

"Repeat them back so we're all clear", snapped his wife as she pushed back to take the last four inches of Rock's big cock in her big ass. Turning her head to look over her shoulder to her Bull, Pam smiled luridly.

"I am not to cum in the presence of my wife and her Bull. Otherwise, I will be denied the pleasure of eating her Bull's superior black seed from her cunt and ass. Also, I am not to touch my wife or her bull while they are making love without their express request or consent. Otherwise, I will be denied the privilege of watching my wife's Bull please her", recites Steve from memory with the appropriate submissive tone.

Since being cucked over the past year, Steve has had to recite these rules on numerous occasions for his wife and Rock when he was close to violating one of the rules. Hardest of all for Steve was mustering the restraint required to keep from masturbating as the powerfully virile Rock fucked his sexy wife. Less difficult, but far from easy, was restraining himself from the compulsory desire to hold and pet his wife while her Bull took her as his own.

With the taste of Rock's pussy creampie still on his lips and the smell of their combined fuck juices from the earlier fuck session still deep within his nostrils, Steve was hungrier than ever for one of Rock's creampies from his wife's ass. He was not about to fuck up and forgo that pleasure. Obediently, Steve crossed his hands behind his back to help fight the urge to jack off.

Satisfied with Steve's obedience, Rock and Pam soon began to develop an erotic ass fucking rhythm; a rhythm that only a superior black cock can maintain. As Pam's ass loosened more for Rock's cock, the tempo of Rock's cock thrusts in and out of Pam's hungry open ass increased. Soon, both Rock and Pam glistened with sweat as the heat or their passion rose and their black on white bodies melded into one.

Still looking on from the corner or his bedroom with his hands behind his back, Steve's dick throbbed, jerked and dripped with precum at the sight of Rock's glistening muscles rippling upon each thrust. With each stroke, Rock's ass clenched as he bottomed out in Pam's ass. Swinging and clinking in rhythm, Rock's thick gold chain bounced off his hard black glistening pectorals.

In tandem, Pam's heavy breasts swung as her nipples raked the silk bed sheets as she met Rock with her ass stroke for stroke. Upon each balls-deep impact from Rock, her soft voluptuous ass flesh rippled and triggered a groan of pleasure from Pam. As the heat of Pam's and Rock's passion increased, the distinct smell of hot fucking reached Steve's nose to mingle with the essence of the earlier creampie he had enjoyed. These combined smells serviced to intensify his arousal to yet a higher level.

Pam, now meeting each thrust in ecstasy, frigged her clit with her right hand. Lost in the rapture of being owned, totally filled, and having the ability to please her powerful Bull, she moaned in bliss from each of Rock's powerful pumps. Looking upon Pam with her eyes closed and the look of ecstasy on her face, Steve knew that his hot wife's Bull was giving her what she so badly needed and deserved. Out of love for his wife and his innate desire to meet all her needs, Steve knew that Pam's body would never be his again. Instead, his role as a cuckold husband demanded that he do everything within his power to support and enhance the relationship of his hot wife with her Bull.

chrislebo

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"Who owns this ass?" Rock loudly called out as he slapped Pam's ass between strokes.

"You own my ass, Rock!!" Pam exclaimed between breaths.

"Who owns this ass, boy?" Rock asked as he turned to Steve while not missing a a beat in pumping Pam's ass.

"My wife's ass is yours alone for your pleasure, Rock." Steve replied with apparent arousal. Having verbally declared his ********** to his wife's Bull, Steve's arousal exponentially intensified. "Oh, God!!", thought Steve to himself. "How badly I want to jack my dick and blow my load right here and now!! I've got to hold it together. I can't miss my chance to eat that ass pie."

Turning his gaze to Pam's sexy feet, Steve was struck with the urgent desire to suck her toes while her Bull fucked her. As he continued to look on and fantasize about sucking her sexy toes, Steve noticed her toes begun to curl. He knew then that she was close to climaxing. By the bottom of Rock's next stroke, Pam grew still, silent, and stopped breathing as an intense orgasm encroached.

With the ***** of a tidal wave, the powerful orgasm began to emanate from her clit and ass outward to her extremities back and again, over and over. As the orgasmic waves shuddered throughout her body, Pam ************* quivered from head to toe. At the end of her explosive orgasm, she found herself exhausted, but dutifully kept meeting her Bull stroke for stroke so as to not interrupt his pleasure.

"Come here, honey.", Pam turned and said to Steve as her orgasm subsided and Rock continued to pump her ass. "You've held back and controlled yourself well. You deserve an early treat. I know how you get off from sucking my toes. I saw you looking just now. Get down there and suck my toes to reward yourself"

"Is that OK with you, baby?" Pam looked over her shoulder to ask Rock for his permission.

"Yeah, the boy's done well. He's also working double time to arrange our fuck dates lately. He deserves a treat."

Dutifully, and thankful for the opportunity, Steve crossed the room, knelt on the bed by Pam's left foot and began sucking her toes as he alternated glances between the BBC anklet she wears at all times and the sight of Rock working her ass over with his 11-inch cock. Being this close to the action, the heat and smell from their bodies overwhelmed Steve's senses. He could think of no other place that he'd rather be than right here, right now, sucking his wife's toes as her Bull pumped her ass.

Without warning, Rock's tempo began to slow and become more controlled. Both Pam and Steve knew with eager anticipation that Rock was reaching his climax. To better position himself for his ultimate reward, Steve rose and lay back down on the king-sized bed head to toe beside his wife. To ensure that she climaxed with her Bull, Pam began frantically frigging her clit. Finally, Rock thrusted forward into Pam's ass with a ***** that would have slammed her into the headboard if it weren't for the powerful retraining ***** of Rock's large black hands on her white ass.

"Arrgghhhh!!" screamed Rock as he thrusted forward and pumped with explosive ***** his potent black seed deep into Pam's bowels.

"Oh shiiiittttt!! cried Pam as another powerful orgasm rippled through her body.

"Nut deep in my ass, baby!! Fill my gut with your black cum, baby!" shouted Pam lost in the throws of her orgasm and the unfathomable fulfillment of having pleased her Bull.

With each pulse of Rock's cock as he orgasmed, his massive cock showered Pam's bowels with squirt after squirt of this hot thick seed. Remaining as still as she could, Pam worked her ass muscles in time to Rock's cock pulses to ensure that milked every last drop of her Bull's pearl jam into her ass.

Slowly, withdrawing all eleven inches of his shiny thick cum-coated cock from Pam's ass, Rock looked down at Steve and commanded, "Get into position for your reward, boy."

Without hesitation, Steve slid under Pam's crotch as she remains on her hands and knees.

"Tell me what you want, honey. Tell me what you need more than anything" Pam requested of her husband with a stern tenderness.

"I need to eat your Bull's cum from your ass more than anything, honey. Please feed me your Bull's cum." Steve pleaded with arousal.

Rocking back on the heels of her feet, Pam positioned her beautiful white cum-filled ass over her husband's mouth to feed him his reward. Kneeling beside Pam as she raised into position, Rock took hold of the back of Pam's head and pressed her mouth tightly against his to deeply and *****fully french kiss her. Squatting over Steve with her mouth locked with Rock's in deep french kiss, Pam began to work her ass muscles in effort to squeeze Rock's seed from her bowels into the hungry mouth of her husband.

As he awaited his reward, Steve's heat rate nearly doubled with excitement. At first sight of Rock's seed beginning to leak from his wife's ass, his stomach tumbled with butterflies. Opening his mouth wide, Steve let all of Rock's thick seed slowly drip from his wife's ass down his waiting tongue. Although Rock's seed was close to overfilling his mouth, Steve held wide to catch the last drop of this precious fluid.

Content that Pam had now squeezed all of Rock's seed into his his mouth, Steve slowly closed both his mouth and eyes to savor the salty sweet taste and the essence of the creamy cum from his wife's Bull. Finally, swallowing and ingesting Rock's seed, Steve lay lost in his thoughts in total contentment.

By ingesting his wife's Bull's seed from her ass, he was at that very moment one with both his hot wife and her virile Bull. This was his place. He was meant for this place. He was at home. He'd rather be nowhere else. He also knew there was nothing we would not do for the sake of his wife's relationship with her Bull.
chrislebo

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As Steve swallowed the last of Rock's seed from Pam's ass, Pam and Rock unlocked from their deep french kiss and rolled in an embrace to the opposite side of the bed.

"Do you have something to say to Rock, honey?" Pam scoldingly asked Steve as she began tenderly working Rock's now flaccid cock with her brightly red manicured right hand.

Lying in the crook of Rock's muscular right arm, Pam pressed her hard-nippled breasts against his side. Turning her head from Steve, she began to nibble on Rock's ear with warm seductive breaths. With her shapely strong right leg, she ran her soft white inner thigh up and down Rock's heavily muscled black leg.

"Thank you, Rock, for fucking my hot wife like she deserves. Thank you for giving her a real man's cock, and filling her with your seed." Steve said with the taste of Rock's jizz still strong in his mouth.

"That's what I thought," said Rock dismissively and gruffly to Steve before he leaned down and locked into a full-mouth kiss with Pam.

"You guys have to be thirsty after that hard long ass fucking. How about I get you some water?" said Steve as he rose from the bed.

"Umm," Rock and Pam hummed in unison with their mouths still locked together.

Taking that as a 'yes', Steve stood from the bed to cross the large master bedroom for the kitchen downstairs. Before reaching the door, Pam caught sight of the hardon Steve sported from the incredible state of arousal that still remained with him after just watching Rock fuck his wife's ass with his thick black Bull cock and then his eating that creamy asspie dessert afterwards.

"No cumming while Rock's in the house, dear. Your cock better be just as hard when you return. We'll take care of you after Rock leaves for the evening," lectured Pam.

"No way, honey. I wouldn't even think of it. It wouldn't be the same without your help." Steve said over his shoulder as he headed through the door.

Walking down the hardwood floor of the upper level hallway of their 6,000 square foot $2MM neoclassical home in a Raleigh suburb, Steve was riding a natural high. The salty taste and the pungent smell of two of her Bull's creampies from that evening still lingered in his mouth and nose. If he were lucky, his wife may again have Rock's hot 11-inch cock throbbing hard by the time he returned with their water.

What Steve wished to see more than anything upon returning to the bedroom upstairs was Pam's lips wrapped around Rock's cock as she tried to take as much of him down her throat as she could without gagging and crying. Being as thick as Steve's wrist, Steve knew she would never she his wife deepthroat it, but he still relished the sight of seeing her try. The sight of his beautiful wife's face engorged with her Bull's cock and her lips stretched to the limit around his cock shaft while she looked deep into her Bull's eyes willing him to cum made Steve tingle with unfathomable excitement.

By the time Steve reached the marble tiled kitchen packed with high-end Sub-zero appliances, his dick was even harder with anticipation. Returning with his dick this hard, he knew Pam would have no doubt that he had not stopped to wank and blow his nut along the way. Having first gotten himself some water, Steve then filled two glasses for Rock and Pam and returned upstairs hoping to see a third hot round of big black Bull on hot white wife action.

Utterly disappointed, Steve saw Rock pulling on his pants as he walked through the bedroom door. As Rock dressed, Pam lay stretched across their bed with a radiant after-sex glow. Lying there after being filled twice with her Bull's seed, Steve was suddenly overcome with a powerful urge to kiss his wife. He never found his wife more appealing and desirable than when she was full her of her Bull's seed.

*****, Rock," said Steve walking toward Rock with his glass of water, "I was hoping that you would stay and share another load of your hot cum with us. I just had some water and washed down your last nut thinking that I would have another when I got back upstairs. Is there anything we can do to convince you to stay all night?"

"No, man. Got a text from one of my boys. I gotta roll."

"We'll walk you down to your car, baby." Pam said to Rock as she threw on a sheer night gown.

Grabbing some shorts and a t-shirt, Steve dressed quickly almost tripping over himself as Rock and Pam headed hand-in-hand out the bedroom door down the hallway.

"What a beautiful sight," mused Steve as he walked behind the massive black bald-headed Rock standing six inches over his supple curvy blonde wife while they walked hand-in-hand. As the bright light at the end of the hall backlit Pam through her sheer nightgown, he could distinctly make out every feature of her hot figure.

Thick in all the right places in her thighs and ass without without being fat, Pam still had that irresistible gap between her thighs made possible by her intoxicatingly wide ************ hips. Thinking of the two hot loads of black cum that Rock's massive cock had just unloaded between his wife's thighs, Steve became euphorically lightheaded.

As they passed through the lavish double front door of the house, Pam and Rock headed out hand-in-hand into the pull-around driveway toward Rock's Escalade that sat up high on 20" rims. Following close behind, Steve looked around at the neighbor's houses to see if anyone were outside or if anyone were in a window with a clear line of sight. As usual, although he always looked, he found that the risk of his neighbor's seeing Pam with her Bull exhilarating. He also knew that it was only a matter of time before the neighbors found out about their alternative lifestyle.

Finishing his scan of the neighborhood, Steve looked back to Rock and Pam to find them locked in a kiss. Pam's right leg was raised and locked around the the back of his Rock's left leg. Rock's right hand was between Pam's thighs working a finger into her cunt. Releasing their kiss, Rock pulled his finger from Pam's cunt and put it before her mouth. Seductively, Pam leaned forward to take Rock's finger into her mouth and suck her juices from it as she looked into Rock's eyes.

"When am I going to see you again, baby?", purred Pam.

"Have your boy over there text me as soon as you need a real man again." Rock said as he pointed his chin to Steve. "If I need some of your pussy or ass, I'll come get it when I want it."

"I know you will, baby. It's here anytime you want it," Pam said flirtatiously as she batted her eyelids.

With that, Rock smacked Pam's hot white ass and threw a backward nod to Steve before hopping into his Escalade. Cranking up the bass on his 2-12" subwoofers until the windows in the neighborhood houses nearly rattled, he slowly rolled out of the driveway to exit the upscale Raleigh neighborhood.

chrislebo

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Back inside, Pam turned to Steve to say, "Let's take care of you now, honey. Why don't you run upstairs and grab a condom while I step into the kitchen for a quick snack."

Although Rock owned exclusive penetration rights to Pam's mouth, pussy, ass, Steve and Pam had found that they had grown even more emotionally close while being cucked by Rock than ever before. Out of love, respect for each other's needs, and totally open communication, Pam and Steve knew exactly what the other needed and faithfully provided for each other's physical and emotional needs.

Meeting Steve at the bottom of the stairs, Pam grabbed him, tenderly kissed him and pulled back to say quietly, "Do you like the taste of Rock's big black cock on my lips, honey?"

"Yes, honey. More than anything", Steve said with his voice trembling in excitement.

"Hand me that condom, honey."

Handing the condom to his wife, Pam then ripped open the package and dropped to her knees to roll it down the length of Steve's hard dick.

Looking up as she finished rolling on the condom, she asked, "Which do you want to sniff and lick as you get yourself off, honey? My pussy or ass? You've got a choice tonight since Rock nut in both."

"Ass, please." said Steve.

Standing and then turning around with her back to Steve, Pam raised her nightgown to reveal her incredible round white ass, wide hips, and toned legs. Dropping down on all fours, she arched her back to give Steve full access.

"Get down here and sniff my ass, honey. Smell what a real man's cum smells like."

With dick in hand, Steve knelt down and placed his nose in the crack of Pam's ass.

"Do you like the smell of that black cum in my ass, honey?" cooed Pam.

"Yes," sighed Steve as he now steadily jerked his cock.

"How did you like watching Rock fuck that ass with his thick 11-inch black cock?"

"I loved it, honey. More than anything."

"Lick my ass, honey. Taste that black cum on my ass. You like that don't you?"

By now Steve was vigorously pumping his dick in his hand. His breaths were growing deeper and more labored. Pam knew she was close to pushing him over the edge.

"Taste it!! Smell it!! Savor that superior black seed that Rock left in my ass!!" Pam exclaimed as she pushed her ass tighter against Steve's face.

"Ohhhhhh Fuuuucckkkkk!!", cried Steve as he began to cum and fill the reservoir tip in his condum spurt by spurt.

"That's it, honey. Blow that nut as you think about how your hot wife took that huge black cock tonight." Pam said as Steve's orgasm subsided.

Knowing the drill, Steve pulled the condom off of his flaccid cock careful not to spill any of his cum and handed it to his wife. Taking the full condom, Pam raised it to Steve's mouth as he opened wide. Tilting the full end up with the open end to Steve's lips, she poured his cum into his open mouth.

As Steve swallowed his own jizz, Pam said, "As we agreed, it meets both our needs for you to eat your own seed anytime you get off from the taste and smell of my bulls cum on my body."

Taking a seat on the bottom stair, Pam and Steve placed their arms around each other. Pam's head rested against Steve's shoulder. Steve's head rested against hers. For a couple of moments, the couple reflected on what a wonderful and fulfilling evening they had had. They also reflected on how satiated they both were with their relationship between themselves and their Bull.

"I've been wanting to talk with you, honey," Pam said with a more serious tone that jarred Steve from his mused state.

"Sure. What's on your mind, honey?"

"I've been thinking a lot about having Rock's baby." said Pam as she turned to face Steve to study his reaction.
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