les histoires de chrislebo

Un soir, elle décide de prendre les choses en main pour pimenter sa vie de couple. Elle envoie ses enfants chez ses parents pour le week-end. Elle s'apprête pour exciter *** mari en s'habillant d'une courte jupe volante, d'un haut moulant, en omettant de mettre des sous-vêtements. C'est dans cette tenue qu'elle reçoit *** mari qui rentre des courses. Il lui raconte ses aventures au marché d'un débit inlassable. Il a rencontré un tel qui est malade, et la commerçante... Blablabla... Il l'exaspère !
Il ne la voit pas. Pourtant, il la regarde mais comme d'habitude, sans lueur d'excitation, pas d'envie particulière, rien, le néant. Puisqu'il ne veut pas prendre l'initiative, elle se décide à faire le premier pas. Elle prend d'abord des poses langoureuses pour ranger ce que lui tend *** mari. Elle se penche en avant tout en gardant ses jambes bien droites pour placer les tomates dans le bac du réfrigérateur. Dans cette position, un voyeur pourrait apercevoir le bas de ses fesses et ne manquerait pas d'essayer d'en voir plus. *** mari ne réagit toujours pas. Il lui tend les courgettes tout en discutant. Elle se surprend à trouver excitante la forme phallique de ces légumes. Elle en caresse une langoureusement avant de se reprendre. *** mari ne voit rien, elle abandonne pour le moment.
Elle ne réussit pas à apprécier leur délicieux repas tant elle rumine l'impossible réactivité de *** mari. Comme à *** habitude, *** mari décide de faire une petite sieste, elle profite de ce moment pour essayer de nouveau à l'exciter. Il s'allonge sur le lit, les bras croisés, perdu dans ses pensées. Elle apparaît dans l'embrasure de la porte. Elle se cambre, le visage relevé, les yeux entre-ouverts. Elle se mord la lèvre inférieure dans une moue érotique. Elle commence à se caresser les hanches. Ses mains descendent le long de *** corps et remontent doucement en relevant le tissu de la jupe. Il devient évident qu'elle ne porte aucune culotte. Elle relâche sa jupe et ses mains glissent sur sa poitrine généreuse et souple. Ses tétons tendent le tissu de *** haut moulant.
Elle ne sait plus si elle se caresse pour réveiller la libido de *** mari ou pour *** propre plaisir. Ses pensées deviennent confuses. Elle soulève *** haut pour libérer sa poitrine opulente qui retombe lourdement. Ses tétons se tendent et ***t terriblement sensibles. Elle les pince, elle tire dessus en se mordant la lèvre pour ne pas laisser échapper ses gémissements. Elle redescend sa main droite vers *** intimité, elle n'est pas surprise de sentir l'humidité de *** sexe. Elle caresse *** clitoris en alternant les effleurements et les caresses plus appuyées. De *** autre main, elle continue à serrer *** sein, à le pétrir, à le presser. Elle sent *** plaisir monter rapidement, sa main quitte précipitamment *** sein pour venir pénétrer d'un puis de deux doigts *** sexe trempé. Elle sent *** point G, elle presse ses deux doigts dessus tout en continuant d'exciter *** clitoris en érection. La jouissance la traverse avec violence. Elle ne crie pas, ses lèvres ***t scellées dans un rictus de plaisir, *** corps est raidi au maximum.
Elle relâche doucement ses muscles tout en se tenant au chambranle de la porte. Elle réalise avec tristesse que *** mari s'est endormi sans même la voir. La déception est immense pour Maryse qui souhaitait essayer de partager de nouvelles expériences. Elle est maintenant persuadée qu'elle ne pourra jamais vivre ces moments d'excitation intense avec *** mari. Peut-être espérait-elle vivre tout cela avec lui pour ne plus avoir à le tromper, à lui mentir mais il ne possède pas la bestialité et la perversité de M. Francis. Cette révélation lui fait peur. Il faudrait qu'elle arrête tout cela pour ne pas sombrer définitivement dans la perversité et la luxure. Elle est déjà allée tellement loin dans ses expériences qu'elle pourrait y mettre un terme. L'éventualité est rapidement repoussée. Presque avec horreur, elle réalise qu'elle est accro à ces sensations... au sexe.
Le reste du week-end se passe lentement, elle ne pense qu'à une chose : rejoindre *** amant. Elle apprend le lundi qu'elle doit de nouveau partir en déplacement à partir de mercredi. Elle se réjouit à cette idée. Une fois dans *** bureau, elle envoie un mail à M. Francis pour le prévenir. Quelque temps après, il lui répond qu'il pourra se libérer mais qu'elle devra suivre les instructions suivantes :
— Tu passeras me chercher à la déchetterie mercredi après-midi. Tu viendras en tenue très sexy, quelque chose de très court et des talons aiguilles. Attends-toi à ce que je te défonce ton petit cul de salope ! Donc pas de culotte.


Le langage très cru de M. Francis devrait la choquer mais bien au contraire. Elle ressent une décharge d'adrénaline et une bouffée de chaleur au moment où elle le lit. Elle sent *** sexe s'humidifier sous l'excitation que provoquent ces quelques mots. La journée se passe sans autre message de la part de M. Francis.

Le soir, elle annonce *** nouveau déplacement. *** mari n'y réagit pas. Elle voudrait le secouer, le frapper pour qu'il la voit mais elle se dit que ce serait peine perdue. Alors elle se renferme, elle met *** masque de gentille femme mariée et joue le rôle qu'on lui attribue.
Le mercredi, elle prend soin de choisir deux tenues. L'une pour aller travailler, juste féminine avec les fameux talons aiguilles demandés par M. Francis et l'autre très provocante. Elle choisit la mini-robe blanche qu'elle a achetée quelques mois auparavant. Elle la moule parfaitement. Elle est totalement indécente dans cette tenue mais elle sait qu'elle fera plaisir à *** mentor. Elle se maquille puis s'habille avant de quitter la mai***.
La matinée passe rapidement, elle prépare jusqu'au moindre détail *** déplacement professionnel pour avoir l'esprit totalement libre pour M. Francis. Elle s'amuse des regards appuyés de ses collègues. C'est avec empressement qu'elle remonte dans sa voiture, fière de *** travail. Il lui faut maintenant trouver un endroit pour se changer. Elle ne pouvait décemment pas venir au travail dans sa mini-robe moulante. Elle choisit un petit bois non loin de la déchetterie pour s'arrêter. Elle prend quelques instants pour vérifier que l'endroit est bien désert, puis elle sort sa petite robe de *** sac. Un rapide coup d'œil supplémentaire pour la rassurer et elle commence à retirer *** chemisier et sa jupe longue. Elle hésite un bref instant, puis se décide à enlever *** soutien-gorge et *** string qui seraient de trop avec sa robe.
Elle s'agite dans l'espace confiné de sa voiture pour se changer quand tout à coup elle aperçoit un mouvement sur sa gauche. Elle se fige de peur d'être découverte. *** cœur s'accélère, elle reçoit une décharge d'adrénaline lorsqu'elle voit un homme caché dans les feuillages d'un buis*** en train de l'observer. Il ne bouge pas, il semble aussi effrayé qu'elle d'être découvert. Maryse prend alors conscience que sa honte et sa peur cèdent peu à peu pour laisser place à une excitation irrésistible. Elle rougit fortement, elle a du mal à respirer mais elle recommence doucement à se changer. Elle ralentit ses gestes qui manquent de précision tant elle tremble pour faire durer ce moment.
Elle observe du coin de l'œil *** voyeur qui bouge doucement. Il essaie d'en voir plus et en même temps, elle remarque que sa main gauche s'active précipitamment sur un sexe tendu comme un arc. Elle se remémore l'épisode dans Paris où tous ces voyeurs se ***t masturbés devant elle. Mais elle n'ose pas aller plus loin dans cette expérience, elle était alors accompagnée de M. Francis. Pourtant elle continue doucement à s'habiller. Elle en profite pour caresser ses seins, et les soupeser comme pour mieux les présenter à *** voyeur anonyme. Elle en tire une profonde satisfaction et un plaisir immense. Elle peut le voir se crisper avant d'éjaculer copieusement sur le buis*** et dans sa main.
Elle met fin à sa petite exhibition en redémarrant rapidement le moteur. Elle est dans un état second après cette nouvelle expérience. Elle s'abandonne de plus en plus à cette nouvelle per***nalité avide de plaisir et de sexe. Elle arrive peu de temps après aux portes de la déchetterie. Une partie de *** être a peur de ce qui l'attend. Elle sait maintenant que plus elle est excitée plus elle s'abandonne facilement aux perversions sans limites de M. Francis. L'espace d'une seconde, elle hésite à faire demi-tour, à tout abandonner, mais c'est trop tard. Les grilles s'ouvrent et elle s'engouffre presque malgré elle dans ce lieu qui représente sa débauche. De nouveau *** cœur s'emballe. Ses gestes ***t mécaniques, elle ne pense plus qu'aux futurs désirs de *** amant. Elle les appréhende tout en les attendant impatiemment.
Elle sort de la voiture, sa robe protégeant à peine *** intimité. Les talons aiguilles la cambrent bien et accentuent le balancement de ses hanches alors qu'elle se dirige vers la porte du logement de M. Francis. Elle tremble presque de retrouver *** amant. *** sexe est humide, elle le sent presque couler sur le haut de ses cuisses. Elle a honte de se comporter comme une catin mais elle ne peut se résoudre à faire demi-tour. Elle frappe à la porte, et c'est la voix empreinte d'autorité de M. Francis qui l'accueille. Elle ouvre la porte qui représente pour elle la frontière entre le monde normal et le monde de luxure auquel une partie de *** être de plus en plus importante aspire.
Il l'attend assis dans un vieux fauteuil, *** appareil photo en main prêt à immortaliser ces instants de débauche. Il commence à la prendre en photo alors qu'elle avance dans la pièce. L'ordinateur est allumé, elle se voit évoluer dans la pièce habillée de cette micro robe. Elle se reconnaît à peine. Elle a le regard vague, puis tout à coup elle comprend ce qui se passe. Il la filme, le visage découvert. Elle prend peur. Elle se couvre le visage. D'une petite voix, elle exprime *** refus de se laisser ainsi filmer. Il était tellement facile de se laisser prendre en photo nue dans des positions indécentes sans que *** visage n'apparaisse. *** visage, c'est *** identité de femme mariée, mère de deux enfants, travaillant, respectable. Dévoiler *** visage c'est dévoiler *** intimité la plus profonde.
Elle qui s'imaginait qu'il serait plus difficile de montrer un sein, sa vulve gonflée d'humidité ou même *** petit trou dilaté par les assauts de M. Francis. Non, le plus difficile c'est *** visage. M. Francis la sort de sa léthargie en lui intimant l'ordre de se découvrir, qu'elle ne risque rien. Il lui demande qui, dans *** entourage, regarde ce genre de site noyé dans la masse informe d'internet. Les mots ***t pour une fois relativement doux, il gagne peu à peu sa confiance. Il lui dit que *** plaisir en sera décuplé puisque sans limite, assumé. Peu à peu ses mains glissent le long de *** visage. Elles descendent sur *** cou, sur sa poitrine. Elle s'abandonne une fois de plus aux désirs de *** amant. Elle est surprise de sentir ses tétons durcis. Elle caresse ses seins devant la caméra, plus ouvertement.
Elle aperçoit des commentaires sur le côté de *** image. Ils l'encouragent tous à en montrer plus. Certains déguisent leur demande de courtoisie, les autres ***t plus directs. Elle se donne en spectacle. Elle presse ses seins entre ses mains, elle joue avec. Elle se tourne pour leur montrer ses fesses rebondies. Elle se penche en avant pour qu'ils aient un bref aperçu de sa nudité. Elle sort sa grosse poitrine un peu molle de sa robe. Elle la fait bouger, cela les rend fous et elle aussi.
M. Francis continue à prendre des photos pour immortaliser ces moments de pur abandon à la débauche. Elle fait glisser sa robe le long de ses cuisses galbées. Les internautes voyeurs ***t comblés par sa beauté et sa générosité. Elle se penche en avant pour leur montrer de nouveau ses trésors, ses deux orifices dont l'un coule littéralement d'excitation. Elle passe ses doigts entre ses lèvres boursouflées pour sentir la moiteur de *** sexe. Elle est au bord de la jouissance. Elle a besoin d'être pénétrée, d'être prise comme une salope qu'elle devient.

Ses dernières pensées attisent sa honte mais l'excitent encore plus. Elle s'agenouille par terre, se penche en avant et commence à investir sa vulve dégoulinante avec deux de ses doigts. Elle se pénètre facilement, fait quelques va-et-vient avant d'en ajouter un troisième. Elle gémit devant les internautes qui n'en reviennent pas de la chance qu'ils ont. Dans *** délire, elle essaie d'enfoncer un quatrième doigt mais ne réussit pas vraiment. La tête écrasée sur le vieux tapis, elle active maintenant les doigts de sa main gauche sur *** clitoris si sensible. Elle le titille, elle le pince en criant presque de plaisir et de douleur mêlés. Elle jouit *********** devant la caméra, le cul et la chatte offerts indécemment à ces spectateurs.
Elle laisse passer les vagues de plaisir avec bonheur. Elle peine à retrouver ses esprits. Elle perçoit plus qu'elle ne voit M. Francis qui s'affaire à éteindre *** ordinateur. Elle est toujours dans la même position, elle pense être trop faible pour bouger. Elle entend alors M. Francis retirer *** pantalon et sans tarder, il présente *** sexe gonflé d'excitation devant *** vagin poisseux. Il la pénètre d'un mouvement brusque jusqu'à ce qu'il soit au plus profond. Elle gémit de plaisir en le sentant la posséder. Il la prend avec ***** tellement il est excité. Pourtant il quitte *** sexe pour s'enfoncer lentement dans ses entrailles. Elle gémit plus fort encore en sentant ce sexe la sodomiser longuement avec *****. Puis sans prévenir, il accélère le rythme. Les pénétrations ***t profondes et puissantes. Il tient sa promesse et la défonce littéralement. Elle halète, crie sous les coups puissants de M. Francis. Il crie à *** tour alors qu'il éjacule au plus profond des entrailles de Maryse. Il se retire et tombe presque à la renverse dans *** fauteuil, le sexe gluant de leurs sécrétions. Elle s'écroule sur le tapis, le sperme encore chaud sort lentement de *** petit trou dilaté et coule sur sa cuisse avant de créer une petite flaque que le tapis peine à absorber. Ils restent tous les deux ainsi abasourdis.
Maintenant que l'excitation redescend, les pensées de Maryse se bousculent. Elle s'est, une fois de plus, laissé manipuler par M. Francis. Peu à peu il la soumet au moindre de ses désirs lubriques. Cette dernière expérience à visage découvert pourrait signifier sa perte si quelqu'un de *** entourage voyait la vidéo. Pourtant, ce qui la choque le plus, c'est qu'elle serait prête à recommencer s'il le lui demandait. Elle ne peut rien lui refuser. Après un moment, il lui dit d'aller faire une toilette avant qu'il reparte. Il lui dit qu'ils devront faire un crochet pour aller dans un magasin. Étant assez tard, elle se demande de quel magasin il peut s'agir. Tout à coup, elle croit deviner leur destination et redoute d'être dans le vrai. Elle ne montre pas *** appréhension pour éviter de le décevoir.
Elle remet docilement sa petite robe moulante sans ses sous-vêtements. Ses talons aiguilles claquent sur le sol quand elle se dirige en compagnie de M. Francis vers sa voiture. Il lui indique la route à prendre, alors que sa main caresse ses cuisses et sa vulve humide. Elle peine à garder sa concentration sur la route. Ils s'arrêtent dans un quartier glauque de la ville. Ses talons aiguilles ré***nent à chacun de ses pas. Plus ils avancent dans cette rue secondaire, plus ses craintes se précisent. Elle a une boule au ventre pourtant elle continue d'avancer. Ils s'arrêtent devant une vitrine fermée illuminée d'un néon rose qui laisse peu de doute sur l'endroit. M. Francis ouvre la porte et laisse entrer Maryse qui aurait préféré le suivre plutôt que le précéder.
Elle se trouve dans une petite pièce à l'éclairage tamisé où ***t présentés dans une vitrine toutes sortes d'objets en latex ou en métal chromé. De l'autre côté ***t suspendus des vêtements de toutes sortes. Quand elle les détaille un peu plus, elle se rend compte qu'il s'agit exclusivement de vêtements en cuir qui révèlent plus qu'ils ne cachent. Un homme l'observe depuis *** comptoir où ***t affichés de nombreuses photos toutes plus explicites les unes que les autres. Le vendeur est légèrement dégarni, il a un regard étrangement neutre. Elle se dit que contrairement à elle, il est saturé de tous ces objets sexuels. Pour elle, ce n'est que la deuxième fois qu'elle visite un tel lieu.
Elle se demande ce que M. Francis a en tête. Il se dirige vers le comptoir, la laissant à l'entrée. Elle n'ose pas bouger, elle se contente d'observer tous ces objets aux formes arrondies ou en pointes. Elle cède à la curiosité et s'approche de la vitrine pour lire les étiquettes. Il y a ici des nipple rings, là des cock rings, des ball stretchers, des pinces de toutes tailles... Malgré elle, elle sent l'excitation monter. Elle, la mère de famille, est excitée de se retrouver dans ce lieu interdit. Une fois encore elle est surprise de ne pas s'enfuir. La peur de ce que lui réserve M. Francis s'ajoute à la sensation d'abandon au vice.
Elle est sortie de ses pensées par M. Francis qui lui demande de le suivre dans l'autre salle. Elle n'avait pas remarqué qu'il y avait d'autres pièces. Le vendeur ne manque pas d'observer le corps de Maryse avec un petit sourire appréciateur. Elle se sent comme l'un de ces objets sexuels, relégué à la seule fonction d'assouvir les fantasmes les plus pervers.
Dans l'autre pièce, trônent des godes de toutes tailles. Certains moulés sur le sexe d'acteurs pornos, d'autres aux formes biscornues de toutes les couleurs. Elle est honteuse mais ne peut refreiner *** envie de les sentir au plus profond de ses orifices bien trempés. Il y a bien plus de vêtements dans cette pièce, soit en latex, en vinyle ou bien encore en cuir. Un vendeur les attend et indique un siège à M. Francis. Il s'assoit alors qu'elle reste debout. Cette attitude l'aurait choquée avant de le rencontrer, là c'est naturel. Le vendeur observe Maryse, s'approche d'elle pour prendre quelques mesures sans lui parler. Il sort un mètre ruban et mesure sa poitrine, sa taille et ses hanches.
Elle sent les doigts de cet homme de la quarantaine effleurer *** corps qui ne manque pas de réagir. Ses tétons tendent le tissu moulant de la robe. Sa poitrine s'est gonflée d'excitation. Elle respire difficilement, et se sent rougir. Elle a un hoquet de surprise quand le vendeur soupèse sa poitrine pour en tester la fermeté. Elle jette un œil apeuré à M. Francis qui suit toute la scène avec un plaisir non dissimulé. Le vendeur se dirige vers la collection de cuir et en sélectionne quelques articles. Le premier qu'il présente à M. Francis est une sorte de harnais muni de chaînes et d'anneaux métalliques. *** amant acquiesce et le vendeur demande à Maryse de retirer sa robe.
Naïvement, elle se dirige vers la cabine d'essayage mais M. Francis lui fait comprendre d'un signe de la tête qu'elle doit se changer ici devant eux. Elle panique, le magasin est désert mais si un nouveau client entrait, il ne manquerait rien du spectacle. La femme mariée s'y refuse, mais c'est sans compter cette femme perverse avide de sensations lubriques. Doucement elle retire sa robe, révélant au vendeur sa voluptueuse nudité. Le vendeur n'en perd rien. Elle a le regard baissé mais peut apercevoir une large bosse déformer *** pantalon. Elle ne prend pas la peine de cacher sa grosse poitrine mais elle garde ses mains croisées devant *** sexe qu'elle sent moite.
Le vendeur lui présente le harnais. Il l'aide à l'enfiler. Un string en cuir ouvert est attaché par un complexe réseau de ceintures que le vendeur resserre autour de sa taille lui coupant presque le souffle. Le string s'insère entre ses deux lobes généreux. Ses seins ***t écrasés par des ceintures qui s'entrecroisent au niveau de ses mamelons en érection. Un anneau métallique les laisse bien en vue. Elle peut voir le résultat dans plusieurs miroirs éparpillés dans la pièce. Elle est transformée, elle se reconnaît à peine dans cette tenue aux forts accents SM. Pourtant elle ressent un immense plaisir à se montrer ainsi à M. Francis.
Le vendeur semble très excité par la situation mais il continue de suivre les directives de M. Francis et lui présente un autre accoutrement. Il s'agit cette fois-ci d'une robe en cuir noir à lacets sur toute sa longueur. Elle retire non sans difficulté le harnais pour essayer la robe. Elle doit avouer qu'elle est magnifique même si jamais elle n'aurait imaginé en porter une. Elle enfile la robe qu'elle remonte le long de *** corps. Les balconnets peinent à maintenir sa poitrine en place qui déborde légèrement ajoutant une certaine indécence à la tenue.
Le vendeur commence alors à serrer les lacets de la taille. Une nouvelle fois, elle a le souffle coupé. Il lui fait perdre plusieurs centimètres de taille. Il lace ensuite le bas de la robe, empri***nant ses fesses charnues dans le cuir. Les lacets s'inscrivent dans sa chair. L'effet est terriblement érotique. La robe révèle *** corps. Les lacets ne cachent rien du sillon accueillant de ses fesses. Ses hanches et sa poitrine ***t mises en valeur par sa taille resserrée. Pourtant, jamais elle ne pourra sortir habillée ainsi.
M. Francis approuve une nouvelle fois. Il se lève pour mieux observer Maryse qui en éprouve une certaine fierté mêlée de honte d'être ainsi traitée. Il demande alors au vendeur de lui montrer ce qu'il a comme bottes à talons aiguilles. Le choix n'est pas large mais M. Francis jette *** dévolu sur des bottes à lacets sur l'arrière et à talons aiguilles. Il les présente à Maryse pour qu'elle les essaie. Elle s'assoit mais ne peut les mettre toute seule à cause du corset de la robe. Le vendeur s'agenouille devant elle pour les enfiler avec ***** tout en jetant des regards furtifs entre ses cuisses pour essayer d'apercevoir *** sexe baveux. Elle ne peut faire autrement que d'écarter les cuisses et lui offrir ainsi ses lèvres ouvertes et gonflées d'excitation.
M. Francis ne reste pas insensible à la situation, *** pantalon est lui aussi déformé par une généreuse érection. Il ne quitte pas des yeux la poitrine de Maryse qui ondule outrageusement au rythme des poussées du vendeur sur les bottes. Les bottes arrivent sous les genoux de Maryse. Une fois les lacets serrés, elle se lève pour faire quelques pas. Les talons ***t dangereusement hauts mais elle a acquis une assurance certaine ces derniers temps. Ces bottes complètent parfaitement sa robe. Elle se fait l'effet de l'une de ces reines de la nuit et du plaisir.
M. Francis semble satisfait et demande au vendeur le prix de ces deux articles. La somme paraît astronomique à Maryse mais il ne semble pas s'en soucier et les accepte. Elle commence à vouloir se dévêtir mais de nouveau, d'un simple geste de la tête, il lui fait comprendre qu'elle doit rester ainsi. Une bouffée de chaleur l'envahit, elle panique. Mais elle ne peut rien y faire, elle est obligée de se résoudre à sortir habillée dans cette tenue qui ne cache rien de *** corps. Elle se résout à le suivre dans la première pièce. Le vendeur malgré *** expérience de ce monde écarquille les yeux en la voyant. Il encaisse la carte de M. Francis en lui disant qu'ils peuvent revenir quand ils veulent et qu'il pourrait les présenter à certaines de ces connaissances s'ils le souhaitent. M. Francis lui répond « Pourquoi pas, une prochaine fois... ».
Elle n'aurait jamais pensé qu'il serait plus difficile de sortir de ce sex-shop que d'y entrer. Elle est terriblement effrayée de se montrer dans ces vêtements suggestifs aux passants. La petite rue est déserte quand ils sortent, elle pousse un soupir de soulagement jusqu'à ce qu'elle entende un sifflement approbateur qui la fait sursauter. Elle n'ose pas se retourner pour en voir la source, elle a trop honte. Elle est consciente que l'on peut voir le sillon de ses fesses mis en valeur par les lacets de la robe. Ses bottes claquent sur le bitume du trottoir.
M. Francis ne prend pas le chemin de la voiture, il emprunte d'autres ruelles où ils croisent d'autres passants aux réactions diverses. Certains ***t ébahis de la voir dans cette tenue, d'autres s'arrêtent franchement pour la regarder. Ils croisent une femme d'une soixantaine d'année qui s'offusque à la voyant jusqu'à la traiter de dépravée. Cette insulte fait écho aux pensées de Maryse. Elle a honte de *** attitude et pourtant elle en tire un immense plaisir. Elle se soumet aux moindres caprices de M. Francis car il sait comment lui révéler sa plus profonde nature de dépravée.

Ils entrent dans un petit square presque désert occupé par un sans-abri qui semble dormir, une bouteille de rouge à la main. Elle se demande ce que *** amant lui réserve. Il lui dit de s'asseoir sur un banc alors qu'il sort *** appareil photo. Elle se mordille la lèvre inférieure. Lentement la crainte fait place à l'excitation sans totalement s'effacer. Elle vérifie rapidement que le sans-abri est bien endormi et peu à peu elle se laisse aller devant l'objectif inquisiteur de l'appareil photo. Elle prend des poses lascives, prenant soin de montrer sa cambrure accentuée par les talons et le corset serré. Elle se penche en avant sur le banc pour lui montrer ses fesses charnues enserrées dans le cuir.
Elle jette un regard en arrière avec une moue érotique que M. Francis immortalise. Elle s'assoit sur le banc en croisant les jambes, les bras sur le dossier. Sa poitrine se lève à chacune de ses respirations, manquant de s'échapper à chaque fois. Alors qu'elle se tourne à nouveau pour montrer le laçage qui empri***ne ses fesses, elle aperçoit le SDF qui la regarde avec avidité. Il se masturbe ouvertement en la regardant.
Elle est saisie de peur. Elle regarde M. Francis qui lui aussi a vu l'homme. Mais loin de le freiner, il lui demande de continuer devant *** nouveau spectateur. Elle hésite, mortifiée par cette demande. La stupeur laisse place lentement à une nouvelle montée de *** excitation alors qu'elle observe le membre massif du SDF branlé vigoureusement par *** propriétaire. Elle se laisse de nouveau aller à l'exhibition. Elle amplifie toutes ses poses pour être la plus désirable possible. Elle aussi regarde ouvertement le sexe de cet homme seul et rejeté. Il est de bonne taille avec de grosses veines. Les deux boules de ses bourses molles s'agitent à chacun de ses mouvements erratiques. Elle ne cherche plus qu'à le faire jouir.
Il se lève pour s'approcher, le sexe fermement serré dans sa main. Ses bourses pendent mollement entre ses cuisses. Il s'arrête devant elle. Il n'ose pas la toucher, il jette un regard vers le photographe qui ne manque rien de la scène. Il comprend qu'il ne doit pas la toucher, il ne pousse pas sa chance plus loin. Il recommence à se masturber frénétiquement devant cette femme sortie d'un magazine pornographique. Elle continue à prendre des poses lascives en le regardant. Elle observe les va-et-vient de la main le long de cette grosse queue.
Si elle osait, elle le prendrait en bouche pour l'aider dans *** plaisir. Elle se contente de sortir un sein de sa gaine de cuir. Le voyeur n'en revient pas et il accélère le mouvement en grognant comme une bête. Elle se retourne pour lui présenter *** cul, il en décharge une grosse quantité de sperme sur le cuir noir de sa robe. Elle sent les jets s'écraser lourdement sur ses fesses à travers le cuir et elle en tire un immense plaisir sans même se toucher. M. Francis a tout photographié, ravi de la tournure des événements. Il présente un paquet de mouchoir au sans-abri et lui indique de nettoyer *** sperme. C'est tout fébrile, la queue pendante entre ses jambes, qu'il tend le bras pour essuyer le liquide poisseux. Il en profite largement pour caresser à travers le cuir alors que la femme toujours penchée en avant sur le banc gémit *** plaisir pervers de se faire toucher ainsi. Il continue consciencieusement à la nettoyer en s'assurant qu'il ne reste rien sur *** fessier rebondi. Après quelques instants, M. Francis le remercie et lui donne quelques pièces. Le sans-abri regarde la femme alors qu'ils quittent le square. Il lui semble bien que sa démarche n'est pas très assurée, est-ce les talons ou bien autre chose. Il s'en retourne à sa place, rêvassant à ces quelques moments irréels de pur plaisir.
Maryse a de plus en plus le sentiment qu'elle n'est plus maîtresse d'elle-même. Elle s'abandonne peu à peu totalement à M. Francis. Elle se soumet aux moindres de ses désirs. Les regards des passants glissent sur elle en ajoutant à *** excitation et à sa honte. Elle les sent plus qu'elle ne les voit car elle n'ose pas les regarder. Elle garde le visage baissé pour ne pas avoir à affronter leur réaction. Elle monte dans la voiture, le corsage l'oblige à se tenir bien droite, sa poitrine largement offerte. M. Francis semble satisfait, il a un léger sourire. Elle se dit que c'est sans doute *** manque de résistance qui lui plait à moins qu'il ne pense à la suite de la soirée. La femme bourgeoise appréhende la suite des événements alors que l'autre partie de sa per***nalité dépravée en demande toujours plus.
Ils arrivent à l'hôtel à une heure assez tardive, pourtant Maryse peut voir qu'il y a encore du passage. Elle est autant effrayée qu'excitée à l'idée d'affronter le regard de ces inconnus. Elle n'a pourtant pas le choix, elle rassemble *** courage et descend de voiture. Elle essaie de se mettre dans la peau de cette femme fatale sûre de ses charmes et de sa sexualité. Elle y parvient presque mais tout s'effondre quand elle se retrouve devant l'hôtelier qui manque de s'étouffer en la voyant. Il retrouve un semblant de dignité et demande le nom de la réservation en les regardant l'un après l'autre et en s'attardant sur la générosité du décolleté de Maryse.
M. Francis ne fait rien pour aider Maryse qui essaie aussi de retrouver une certaine contenance. Elle donne *** nom d'une voix timide mais se voit obligée de le répéter plus fort pour que l'hôtelier réagisse. Il leur donne enfin leur clé en leur indiquant le numéro de chambre et l'étage. Elle la prend et se hâte vers l'escalier alors que M. Francis la suit avec les deux valises. Elle n'a pas besoin de se retourner pour savoir que l'hôtelier lui reluque impunément les fesses mises en valeur et révélées par le laçage de sa robe de cuir noir. Dans sa hâte pour ouvrir la porte de leur chambre, elle fait tomber les clés. Elle s'accroupit pour les ramasser et remarque l'imposante bosse qui déforme le pantalon de M. Francis.
Il la regarde de toute sa hauteur en frottant négligemment le paquet que forment ses bourses. Elle rougit de l'effet qu'elle produit sur lui et de sa vulgarité. Elle en a honte mais elle salive à l'idée de sucer ce membre dressé pour elle. Elle s'engouffre dans la chambre, elle a du mal à respirer. Elle ne sait que faire. Elle attend figée que M. Francis lui dise quoi faire. Il pose les valises à l'entrée. Puis il sort *** ordinateur qu'il branche ainsi qu'une webcam. Il la tourne vers elle. Elle est tétanisée. Il va de nouveau l'offrir en pâture à des internautes surexcités. Cette fois il lui dit qu'il va vendre ses charmes au plus offrant. Elle a tout d'abord du mal à comprendre ce qu'il veut dire. Il lui explique alors qu'elle devra offrir un « spectacle » à celui qui acceptera de payer pour en voir plus. D'une voix froide et autoritaire, il lui intime l'ordre d'exciter ses clients.
Une pointe glaciale lui traverse le cœur. Elle est offerte comme une prostituée à ces internautes. Elle doit les exciter pour qu'ils payent pour ses charmes. Une partie de *** être crie, refuse, se révolte contre cette idée mais cette voix est impuissante face à l'excitation qu'elle ressent. Et lentement, comme dans le square, elle commence à bouger langoureusement en prenant des poses suggestives. Elle s'abandonne de nouveau devant l'objectif alors qu'il lui fait part des commentaires les plus vulgaires.
Tout à coup, il lui dit qu'elle a *** premier client. Il veut voir sa chatte. Elle se couche sur le lit et écarte autant qu'elle peut ses jambes serrées par le cuir. Il lui dit qu'on ne voit pas assez, qu'il faut qu'elle se retourne. Elle se tourne et se met à quatre pattes en se cambrant au maximum ses fesses enserrées par la robe. Elle sent les cordes du laçage frotter contre ses grandes lèvres. Elle ondule pour accentuer le frottement. Elle gémit doucement de cette caresse hors-norme. Elle sent sa chatte s'ouvrir et mouiller sans qu'elle se touche. De très loin, elle entend M. Francis lui donner ordonner de montrer ses seins. Elle se retourne dans un état second et serre sa poitrine pour accentuer *** décolleté. Cela a l'air de plaire mais le client en veut plus alors elle tire le corsage vers le bas pour libérer le reste de sa poitrine généreuse et un peu molle. Elle triture ses seins, les offrant à la vue de *** client. Elle les serre l'un contre l'autre. Elle les pelote. Elle tire sur ses tétons durcis par l'excitation.
Puis M. Francis lui dit que ce show est terminé. Il l'aide à retirer sa robe pour la suite qu'il souhaite plus active. Elle est dans un état second presque d'abandon. Elle lui obéit sans réfléchir. Il lui donne une robe de chambre presque trop courte qu'elle enfile. Puis il lui tend un gros vibromasseur qui a sans doute été moulé sur le sexe monstrueusement gros d'un acteur de porno. Elle le prend, le diamètre est imposant. Elle est comme fiévreuse en regardant ce membre. M. Francis redirige la webcam vers elle et lui dit de recommence à les exciter. Elle reste interdite quelques secondes puis s'assoit sur le lit et commence à caresser le vibromasseur. Elle le place entre ses deux grosses mamelles encore cachées par la robe de chambre comme pour tester la grosseur de cette bite. Elle en titille du bout de la langue la tête comme pour le goûter.
*** petit manège semble exciter ses voyeurs car rapidement il y en a un qui demande un spectacle privé. M. Francis lui dit alors de se caresser la chatte avec le vibro, ce qu'elle exécute avec plaisir. Elle le fait glisser le long de sa fente, appréciant en gémissant cette douce caresse. *** clitoris est érigé au maximum et frotté par la grosse bite qu'elle manipule de plus en plus rapidement. M. Francis lui demande alors de se l'enfoncer. Elle se mordille la lèvre inférieure en appréciant une dernière fois la taille imposante du sexe. Elle le présente à l'entrée de sa vulve toute poisseuse de *** excitation et commence à pousser dessus. Il est énorme et elle crie en forçant l'entrée de sa chatte. Elle se sent écartelée. Elle attend quelques secondes le temps de s'accommoder puis pousse de nouveau sur la bite monstrueuse qui l'envahit peu à peu. Elle la retire pour mieux se pénétrer. Elle gémit comme une folle. M. Francis ne perd pas une miette du spectacle et l'encourage à continuer en la traitant de salope et d'autres mots plus crus les uns que les autres qui attisent l'excitation de Maryse.
Elle pousse sur le membre jusqu'à l'accepter totalement en elle. Elle enclenche alors les vibrations qui la rendent folle. Elle ondule, elle prend un de ses seins en mains pour le maltraiter. Elle le serre très fort alors que la bite mécanique la prend sans relâche. Elle se crispe soudain en poussant un cri silencieux. Une vague de jouissance la traverse, brisant ses dernières ******. Elle s'écroule sur le lit en tremblant alors que le sexe continue de vibrer en elle la faisant couler continuellement. Elle sent alors qu'on lui retire le sexe dans un bruit de succion humide. Elle se sent vide et sans *****. Elle ne réagit pas quand deux doigts pénètrent sa vulve dilatée. Ils viennent écraser et exciter cette petite pièce de chair si sensible lui procurant un nouveau plaisir presque suffoquant.
Elle sent un troisième doigt la fouiller. Puis ils ***t remplacés par le membre chaud de M. Francis, loin d'être aussi gros que le sexe mécanique mais tellement vivant. Elle apprécie les coups de reins presque violents de M. Francis qui écarte ses lobes fessiers pour pénétrer en même temps *** anus de deux doigts trempés de sa mouille. Elle jouit non moins intensément quand elle le sent éjaculer au plus profond de sa chatte. Elle lui appartient, même si cette idée terrorise la femme bourgeoise à la vie si bien rangée.

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A Payment of Reparations


The Auction Block

It is with great fondness and clarity that I recall the thrill of standing naked upon the auction block with my arms and legs bound in chains, as Black hands worked over my body in particular grabbing my ass and fondling my cock and balls. My collar was chained to my wife's collar, and I watched through the corners of my eyes as she too was fondled, with Black hands feeling her D sized breasts, taking hold of her ample round ass, and inspecting her lovely pussy. I don't know as though my wife ever looked better than she did that day, standing naked in chains with her beautiful and curvy body out on display.

On each side of us were other white couples, naked and bound in chains upon a stage that served as the auction block. Black Couples made their way around to inspect the "goods" on display. Sometimes they would stop to look us over, and shift through the brochure to find the page with our stats and contract terms listed. The room was filled with excitement and I was both nervous and excited. I could hardly keep myself from trembling. The other white couples on display looked very nice, but it seemed my wife and I received much attention and groping. I have observed that many Black Men appreciate curvy white women, and this point was proven. My wife is quite attractive with dark brown hair, deep brown eyes, and standing at 5'8", and the Black Men (and a few Black Women) could hardly stop feeling her up. I have a rather athletic build and stand at 6' tall, blond hair and blue eyes. I heard lots of positive comments about us, and our endowment. We were shaved of all body hair, as a sign of **********, and our shaved pubic regions made the fondling all the more sensitive.

The hammer pounded and the bidders were asked to take their seats. A local BDSM club was kind enough to offer the use of their facility and to operate the auction. Members of the BDSM club were there working and watching, but it was only invited Black Couples that would be bidding on the white couples that were offered up. The lights were dimmed down outside the auction block, while overhead lights shown down upon us white couples to provide an effective display. The auctioneer began to explain the bidding process, as we white couples were paraded around the stage. It was the cheers from the crowd that determined the bidding order of the white couples. It was gratifying and erotic to hear cheers for us, as my wife and I were lead by a leash, still naked and with restricted movement in chains, around the front of the stage to be viewed by the bidders.

We were all back stage and I could only hear the excited bidding, the loud cheers and the auctioneer's rambling voice as the first white couple was put out, auctioned and sold. When it was our turn, we were lead by leash to the front and center of the stage, with the bright spotlight shining down upon us. My stomach was turning with nervousness, and my wife was also squirming with anxiety. We had no idea who would end up owning us when we entered the auction. Now under the spotlight, we could hardly see into the dimly light audience to see who was bidding on us. We could only hear the rattling, motor-mouth of the auctioneer, but we could feel the excitement and the energy.

It was this kind of energy that had brought us to this point in the first place. This event was a journey into our greatest adventure, and my wife and I are still very glad with our decision. We are lucky to live such fulfilling lives and to be a part of our Owners' lives. We get great satisfaction when we get to submit and serve. Every journey has its beginning, and it is here that I will tell how we arrived at the auction block.

***

Life was pretty good for us. We were entering or mid-thirties and both our careers were really taking off. My wife had been promoted to Director of Nursing at a home health company, and I was a Biomedical Equipment Supervisor at a hospital. We had survived some hard times but were now living rather well. Our two ******** were in school and doing well. Things seemed good, but my wife and I still felt a little hollow spot in our lives. Having been through the Great Recession, we appreciated things more and liked to help out by volunteering and financially contributing to charities and church. Still, the void was still there. Having become bosses at work, we found that we still had the desire to please and we needed an outlet.

For our anniversary, I bought some DVDs on tantra. Normally my wife and I would do yoga together after the kids were in bed. This night we tried tantra...and loved it! We could really feel the sexual energy that was generated and released. We worked techniques like breathing, positions, chakra alignment, massage, exercises, etc. We experienced full body orgasms and learned to control orgasms. Needless to say, we started reading all we could on tantra. We found books on tantra that also introduced us to BDSM. We jumped into this also and experienced more sexual energy building up as we tried BDSM power exchange play. This led to blissful orgasms that were so great we started to think about sharing this with others.

Up to this point, the only sexual partners either my wife or I had were each other. This probably made us curious about trying other sexual partners, but working in the medical field, we were hesitant for fear of STDs. Working in the medical field fed our desires to heal others, and we learned that tantra and sexual energy can be applied for healing purposes, or so it was claimed. That, we agreed, was exactly what we wanted. We would share sexual energy with others (swapping partners) for healing purposes.

We started searching online and looked at a lot of sites about swinging, tantra, and bdsm. Nothing had grabbed our attention as strongly as one particular internet group that was focused on "white couples serving Black Couples". Perhaps the interracial aspect was an intriguing proposal in itself, but the group was focused on reparations and healing past wounds and the healing is what had "sold us". My wife and I agreed that the Black race had suffered at the hands of whites through slavery, and it was time to give back and heal past wounds. We felt a need and desire to reverse the energy by experiencing the servitude and slavery while empowering and returning good energy to the Black race. We were willing to serve a Black Couple and to not only offer up our bodies for sexual use, but also do slave duties and work as part of giving back. We both had desires to do this in a 24/7 total power exchange manner, but that is very hard these days. For one thing, we have kids and jobs, and it would be a financial burden for anyone to keep slaves these days. We decided that we would offer ourselves up as part-time slaves. Part-time slavery was still giving more than nothing, and we hoped to find other white couples willing to also pay reparations.

We joined this online group and introduced ourselves stating our desire to serve a Black Couple. We were a little disappointed that the group had low activity, and the Black Couples that were interested lived too far away for us to serve them. Another dilemma arose when someone pointed out that African slaves were captured and auctioned off without being able to pick and chose who their new Owners would be. My wife and I decided that we wanted to experience this too, but as we were volunteering our slavery, we wanted to ensure safety as well. After a lot of thinking, I devised a plan and put it in action.

With the group moderator's permission, I promoted the group and a slave auction across the internet, focusing on our regional locality. I put in some long nights trying to put the word out that our group was going to auction of white couples to Black Couples as a means of reparations and to heal past wounds. Membership in our group rose and several more white couples offered themselves up as slaves to be put on the auction block. Black Couples took a keen interest and I was able to set up a pre-auction meet-and-greet between potential Owners and slaves.

I reserved a private banquet room at a local restaurant and had the white couples show up early with some papers or brochures to pass out stating their stats, contract terms, limits, talents, and any personal info they could use to sell themselves. I encouraged the white couples to have some ****** to loosen up and gave out pens and papers. I asked everyone to wear name tags with their screen names on it. The Black Couples were able to work their way around the room of potential slaves and sit down and have a face-to-face interview with the white couples. It seemed that everyone was nervous, particularly at first, but things went rather well and there were lots of smiles and some laughing as the meet-and-greet went on. The white couples passed on their papers and brochures to the Black Couples in hopes that the Black Couples would buy them at auction. As part of a safety and consensual procedure, the white couples were able to write down the screen names of the Black Couples they would like to bid on them, and any Black Couples they wanted barred from that particular bidding. It was optional to bring a doctor's note of good health (STD free) and the Black Couples that did this, which was most of them, went on our list to be able to bid on us.

I found a local BDSM club that was willing to conduct the auction for us. They were very helpful and all too willing to watch the spectacle and participate. A lot of work went into the planning and the BDSM club promoted the event and sold tickets. Black Couples were able to earn points from various participation activities online, and the points would be traded in for play money to bid with at the auction. Our internet group buzzed with excitement as the auction day drew nearer and nearer. My wife and I found ourselves getting more nervous and scared, but also thrilled and excited.

After dropping our kids off to grandma and grandpa's for the weekend, my wife and I prepared ourselves. We showered together and shaved off all body hair to identify us as slaves. My wife checked her appearance in the mirror over and over, wanting to look her best on the auction block. We got dressed with shirts reading our screen name and grabbed our contract and sat waiting for the designated hour. Our contract stated that we would serve real-time one weekend a month and one night on-line a week, and pay a specified tax to our Black Couple, as well as some of the services we could provide. We had only the obvious hard limits and we had some limits that would be negotiated annually like, being marked, loaned out or sold, etc. Some of these things were typical slave procedures, but as we were new to this we just wanted time to warm up. The contract was to be presented and read at auction to ensure consensual agreement on all parties. I kept the contract in a nice big envelop with our screen name on it and kept checking it as we watched the time.

At the planned time, my wife and I locked up our house for the weekend and started walking down the street. It was a peaceful evening and we were both quiet and wondering what would happen as we strolled hand-in-hand into the park. I tried hard to contain myself and not spoil it. We found ourselves in a secluded area and a van suddenly pulled up beside us and gang wearing ski masks jumped out from the doors. We tried to run away but we were tackled and captured. We both struggled and the ski masks were rough with us as they hog tied us and threw us into the van. Our mouths were duct taped and our hands and ankles bound. There were other white couples already in the van having been captured by our gang of friends at the BDSM club. The van made several more stops to capture more white couples, all wearing T-shirts that identified them by their screen names.

The van arrived at the BDSM club and we were all taken inside. There was a large turnout by the BDSM club and they seemed to delight in watching us captured couples be scared and helpless. Our bounds were cut and we were ordered to stand up. We were then ordered to strip naked and place our clothes in the bags provided. It was rather embarrassing to strip naked before such a large audience, I think especially for the women. Our screen names were written on our clothing bags, and also upon our chests, arms, and butts. Our hands were bound and are legs shackled. We were all collared with a chain connecting to our spouse's collar. From here we were arranged on display upon the stage.

***

There we were with our turn on the auction block. A club Mistress led us around and tried to display us well while working the crowd up. There was a lot of hooting and hollering and the terms of service from our contract were read and displayed on an overhead display. The bidding opened and it felt as though time had stopped as my wife and I stood naked for what seemed an eternity awaiting the exciting end of this rather humiliating moment of being offered up for sale like pieces of meat.

"Sold!" cried out the auctioneer as he brought the hammer crashing down on the podium.

There was some applause, and the Mistress led us off the stage. We were taken in the back where we were to sign our contract with our new Owners and surrender into their service as we were handed over to the highest bidder. I could hear the next white couple being auctioned off as we made our way back and knelt at a table with our contract on it. My wife and I both waited with high anticipation to see who had bought us and who our new Owners would be. This experience was thrilling and has led to a journey of surrender and service and healing.

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This Cock Tastes Like My Wife



Part 1 -- The obsession.

"Oh god, DD! What have you done you filthy little whore?" I grunted, my dick in my hand, as my eyes jumped back and forth between the words on the computer screen and the naughty picture of my Asian wife that rested beside it.

I focused on the photo for a moment as I stroked. I never got tired of looking at it. My wife, absent of clothes but for her black thigh-high stockings, kneeling forward on the bed with that dirty look on her face, biting down on her bottom lip. Her full, golden breasts were dangling beneath her and the crack of her tight Cambodian ass was visible just above her head. It was the only dirty picture DD had ever allowed me to take of her, thank god for Tequila!

I remembered how I used to hate that she drank so much. She was such an angry, demanding bitch when she was *****. After the night that picture was taken, I'd wished she drank more often.

My eyes returned to the screen and I read on. "Oh DD. Oh fuck. You dirty bitch! You can't even control yourself, can you? You need that cock! Fucking slut! Nasty slut! Dirty slut!" I rambled on incoherently as I took in the fictional account about some poor bastards cheating wife, soon bringing my cock to an eruption that landed all over my chest.

In that way, as I always did, I imagined that my wife was the slutty central character in the story I was reading. Finding that dirty Literotica site had taken my rituals of fantasizing in an entirely new direction.

My mind always became clear in the moments after I expelled my nut. Most of the time it was clouded by fantasy. I often had a hard time focusing on real life matters because of my obsession with the fantasy world that existed in my head. This was my release, and I welcomed the short-term clarity I got when I wasn't consumed by thoughts of sex.

But that clarity also came with feelings of shame and guilt. What kind of man was I to think of my wife as a cock hungry slut? In fact I felt down right pathetic afterwards, not only for my outrageous fantasies, but also for the way I vicariously lived them out via the Internet, an erotic picture of my wife, and a bottle of Jergens lotion.

As much as I obsessed over the idea of DD fucking other men, in those moments of clarity I knew that I'd never have the courage to broach the subject with her, nor the courage to risk losing her to another man. In my heart of hearts, I knew that was a good thing. The fantasy would have to remain exactly that, for my own good, and the good of my marriage. .

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

Part 2 -- The monotony.

"Hey Boo Bear," DD said plainly as she walked through the door at 9pm that night.

"Hey sexy," I smiled at her, feeling my cock twitch.

DD got off work at five. When she came home late, it usually meant she'd stopped at the bar on her way home and had a few with her co-workers. But I knew right away she hadn't that night because if she'd been ******** she wouldn't have called me by that affectionate nickname.

"Sexy? Not even," My wife modestly blew off my compliment.

"Yeah, baby, you're always sexy," I said, getting up from my seat to give her a welcome home kiss.

"Oh no, don't you even start that with me!" DD wiggled away from me, giggling, "I know what you want!"

"Awww, come on! You know I'm always horny for you when you get home!" I followed her, grabbing her butt before she could escape.

"No! Stop!" She slapped my hand away with a smile on her face.

I relented for a moment, letting her take off of her shoes and put away her laptop. I knew eventually I'd get what I wanted. DD tended to make initiating sex with her a chore. I never saw it as her not wanting to, I just thought she liked to make me pursue her.

"You're home late," I noted, waiting for an answer.

"Oh, you know, we went to Bennigans after work."

"Yeah?" I said, puzzled, "You don't seem like you've been ********."

"I only had one. I've got kind of a headache today," DD shrugged.

"I hope you're not going to use the headache excuse again," I said, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind, grinding the erection in my pants against her butt.

DD gripped my hands and pried them off of her. "Stop it now, seriously. All you wanna do is screw, screw, screw when I get home. Go watch sports or something," DD said in a more serious tone as she walked into the kitchen.

"Most women complain that their men pay too much attention to sports and not enough of it to them," I noted.

"Well I certainly don't have that problem, do I," DD said coldly as she poured herself a glass of water.

I frowned. DD was being more of a cold fish than usual. I decided to change my tactics. "Pleeeeease?" I sank to my knees and pulled her into me by her hips.

DD rolled her eyes, "Will you stop?"

"I can't help it baby," I said, unbuttoning the front of her suit jacket, "I just want to make love to my beautiful, hot, sexy wife." I pulled up the blouse under her jacket and began kissing her stomach. "Pleeeeeease?" I begged a little more.

Finally she cracked a smile. "Awwww, you're so cute when you beg. You should do it more often."

I grabbed the waist of her suit pants and attempted to undo the button, but she pushed my hands away and turned her back on me.

"Come on, DD! What gives!" I whined.

"I just don't want to, ok? What do you think anyway, I'm going to let you do it to me right here in the kitchen?"

Now it was me rolling my eyes. I wanted to fuck her all over the house, but DD always insisted on going to the bedroom.

I peeled my shirt off and dropped it on the floor, then undid my pants and dropped them to the floor along with my boxers. "Yes, I want to fuck you right here in the kitchen," I spun her around and pushed her back against the counter. Her eyes got big as she saw that I was naked. "I want to fuck my wife, and I want to fuck her now!"

"But..."

"Darareaksmey!" I stated her Cambodian name firmly.

"Ok. Ok. But in the bedroom," DD bowed her head and slid out of my grasp, heading for our bedroom.

I smiled, seeing my wife's submissive nature kick in. When all else failed, I knew all it took was demanding sex, rather than asking for it. I usually tried to avoid that tactic for two reasons, the first being that I wasn't the domineering type to begin with. I much preferred to feel like she wanted it as much as I did. And secondly, her enthusiasm for sex when I had to ***** it was minimal. But I'd settle for what I could get.

DD stepped into the bedroom and methodically removed her clothes while I sat on the old, squeaky, queen-sized bed. She was mechanical in doing so, not trying to be sexy at all.

Whether she tried to be or not, I always thought she was sexy. At twenty-nine years old with no kids, her body was a little thicker than when we'd first met, but still nice and firm.

She stripped down to her panties and bra and slid under the sheets before removing her panties.

I scooted closer to her and began kissing her sweet smelling neck as I slid my hand down to her hairy pussy. As my lips threatened to invade her cleavage she pulled me back up to her neck.

"They're sensitive today," she said plainly. That was always the excuse when she didn't want me to touch her boobs, which was often.

"I guess I'll have to find something else to do with my lips then," I said, giving her a soft kiss on her lips before sinking below the sheets on my way to her muff.

Again she stopped me, grabbing my shoulder and giving me a tug. "You can just put it in me. I don't need that today."

"But you're dry," I pouted, disappointed with all the rules she was throwing in my way.

"It's ok," she said, putting her hand on top of mine and pushing my fingers inside of her.

"Oh, wow," I said, surprised. She was as wet as I'd ever felt her once my fingers were inside.

I climbed on top of her and worked my hard dick inside of her. She laid there silently as I began to slowly pump her. "You like this don't you? Damn you're so freaking wet tonight baby," I sported a cocky smile on my face.

DD nodded, but stayed quiet, turning her head to the side.

I was used to her lack of interaction during sex, so as always, I found a way to make it more fun for myself. I became somebody else.

Some of my friends who were bored with their prude wives liked to close their eyes and picture another woman under them as they hammered away. But I liked to pretend that it was me, not her, that was another person.

I was another man who was thrusting inside of my wife's pussy. Where's your husband, slut? I bet he doesn't fuck you like this! You like having another man's cock in your pussy? I bet you do! I kept all of these thoughts to myself, only vocalizing them in my mind.

I was ready to cum quickly, as the idea of her lying there under another man excited me so much that I could hardly contain myself. But she put her hands on my chest and stopped my thrusting before I could.

"Do you want to try doing that thing again?" she said, shyly.

"What thing?" I searched my brain.

"Don't make me say it," she quickly turned her head away from me, too embarrassed to look me in the face. "The other night...after I came home from Bennigans."

"Ohhh!" I got excited. "Really?"

She shrugged. "I mean, if you want to. I don't care, I guess."

"Um...yeah, if it's ok?"

She pushed up against my chest. "Let me turn."

I eased off of her and let her flip around onto her stomach. She buried her face in the pillow.

I'd had to get very ***** one night while out with my friends to find the balls to touch the topic of talking dirty during sex with her. I bitched about how she barely moaned and never said anything when we made love. I'd been *****ful that night, I pushed for it and she let me get away with a few mild comments; "You're bad girl" and "Who's your daddy", I didn't go too far with it. She'd insisted on lying on her stomach and having me screw her in the lazy dog position so she didn't have to look at me when I said those things.

The next day she'd gotten mad and outright refused to let me ever do it again. In fact, she cut me off from her pussy for a week. But a few weeks later she'd come home half in the bag after work and nonchalantly asked for it again. She still insisted on lying face down, so I knew she was still embarrassed, but I got my wish. That time I got a little more vocal with it, and I lasted all of 60 seconds because I'd got so turned on. She didn't hold a grudge the morning after, but she could hardly look at me either, so I didn't push the issue again.

I couldn't wipe the smile off my face as I slid into her sloppy wet cunt from behind, hoping that this was going to become a regular thing with her. As I began to thrust, I wasted no time in getting vocal with her.

"You like that you naughty girl? You like being fucked from behind?" I gasped, measuring my strokes, being careful not to cum too soon like the last time.

DD said nothing, but let out a very soft moan, so I continued.

"You're a bad girl, aren't you? Do you need to be spanked?"

"No," She said pointedly, into her pillow.

Bummer, I thought. Another one of my fantasies vetoed.

Her reluctance had an ill effect on my sexual mood and I felt myself getting a little softer so I thrusted harder. I decided to push it a little further. "You're my little Asian slut, aren't you?" I cringed as soon as I said it, half expecting to get slapped.

DD said nothing, but moaned again.

Oh yes! It's on! I thought. "Naughty little Asian slut! You like this white cock, slut? I know you do!" I was fighting with all my might to keep from cumming, but I couldn't get my self to slow down.

"Fuck me," she moaned into the pillow.

I almost came right there. DD never said stuff like that when she was sober!

"Yeah I'm going to fuck you, you dirty Asian whore! You want this, huh? You want it? You like this strange dick? I bet your husband doesn't fuck you like this!"

"What?" My wife turned her head from the pillow and looked at me from the corner of her eye.

Fuck! I cursed myself in my head, realizing I'd just let my internal fantasy come out into words. How was I going to explain that? "I uh..."

"I want you to stop now please," she said, making a sour face.

"Um...ok. If you want me to," I couldn't hide my disappointment. I started to fuck her in silence as usual, but she pulled her self up and made me slip out of her pussy.

"No, I mean just stop. Give me my panties," she sounded very uncomfortable.

"Baby, I don't know where that came from. What a weird thing to say, huh? Just caught up in the moment I guess."

"Can you just hand me my underwear?" DD now sounded irritated.

"O...ok, baby," I said, crawling onto the floor to retrieve them.

She snatched them from my hand and put them on under the sheets, then got up, grabbed her bathrobe and locked herself in the bathroom without another word.

I slapped myself upside the head. "Fucking stupid!" I knew she wouldn't be speaking to me for the rest of the night.

I didn't know exactly what it was about what I'd said that had set her off. It must have sounded odd but it was hardly an admission of my true fantasies. But as touchy as she was about anything outside of missionary sex, her reaction wasn't surprising.

What was more pressing to me at the moment, was my raging hard on. I was back in that fantasy world and I knew I wouldn't be good for anything until I had an orgasm. Nothing mattered more at that moment -- it was my perpetual Achilles heel.

Part 3 -- The journey.

Once again I was back in front of my computer with the door to my messy office locked -- not that DD would come anywhere near me for the rest of the night -- but better safe than sorry. I pulled out the dirty picture from a locked desk drawer and put it in place, then pulled up the internet.

I sat there thinking about how it had come to this.

Porn had been an occasional crutch for my sex life in between girlfriends at first. But a long dry spell after college had made it more of a wheel chair than a crutch, and soon it was an obsession. I'd sometimes choose to sit home on the weekends while my friends partied, preferring to indulge in all night masturbation binges. Talking to girls wasn't easy for me, but porn stars were a sure thing.

Straight boy-girl porn wasn't enough after a while. It turned into girl-girl, then three ways, then gangbangs, BDSM, fetishes, I just had to keep pushing the limits. At some point I even began whacking off to an occasional gay porno, just to push the envelope - to feel like there was something taboo still left out there.

And when nothing seemed taboo anymore, I found myself increasingly unfulfilled, even depressed. Nothing satisfied my appetite anymore, everything was too tame. I couldn't even get it up half the time when I did find a girlfriend; they were all too vanilla to excite me. Ironically, I ended up falling in love with the most vanilla girl of them all, DD.

DD was piss ***** when I met her at a nightclub with my friends, which made her the aggressor. I would never have had the balls to talk to a woman that hot, nor would she have approached me if she'd been sober, again, thank god for Tequila! She seemed wild, and that excited me. Plus she was so exotic, interracial dating was new territory for me and that also excited me. We fucked in the back of her car that night, and the sex was awkward and clumsy at best, but I'd never come close to screwing a woman that fine before, so that was all the excitement I needed.

I never expected her to call me after that night, but she did. I'd soon find out that DD was just as boring as me without the liquid encouragement. But that's partly what made us click. I didn't need to pretend to be exciting and adventurous, and she was wholly content just having someone who she could talk to, cuddle with, and who didn't smack her around for not having dinner ready.

She was in a miserable arranged marriage to a man from her country, and I was a lonely pervert who was tired of making love to my palm. We were both desperate for something more fulfilling, and we found that in each other. The fact that she was married never escaped me when I fucked her, and for the time, that was my excitement in the sex department.

When she finally divorced him and married me, the thrill of sneaking around and poking another man's wife was gone. The taboo of marrying outside of my race was all I had left to excite me sexually, but that was wearing thin. White and Asian couples seemed to be everywhere, it wasn't such a big deal anymore.

But we did have love, and that wasn't lost on me. We laughed a lot, we understood each other - at least outside of the bedroom - and we shared a deep emotional bond. She felt like I'd saved her from a life of servitude to an ungrateful prick, and she'd saved me from eternal loneliness. For a while I was able to focus on the less shallow aspects of our relationship. I was literally getting by on love alone - sex was side note. I convinced myself that I'd rather be happily married and sexually deprived, than the lonely pervert I was.

But after the first couple of years we inevitably found ourselves in a rut, facing the ultimate relationship killer -- boredom. She'd been sober for the most part during those first years, but when she started ******** regularly again, I knew something was wrong. ****** had been her crutch when she was at her wits end with her last marriage, and I feared history was repeating itself. Likewise, I was back to my porn habit and hiding out in my office to jerk off.

When she was sober she seemed content, albeit less affectionate than before. But when she came home *****, she had a laundry list of things to bitch about. I was suddenly too boring, we never went anywhere, we never had enough money, I left the toilet seat up, and I was always in that stupid office. I'd return fire with the only weapon I had -- you don't ever fuck me! She'd apologize for everything when she was sober, and so would I, but I knew -- a ***** mouth speaks for a sober heart.

We were on edge for the next two years. Everyday I feared we were nearing the end. I knew that DD feared the same thing, but somewhere along the line we'd lost our ability to communicate with each other so we seldom discussed how things had gone down hill or how to fix them. She was keeping herself sane via her crutch -- ******, and I was using mine -- pornography.

Falling back into my old habits, I was always searching for the next taboo fetish to get off to when the old ones had ceased to be interesting. I stumbled across one so obvious that I couldn't believe I'd never given it a serious look before - swinging.

There were tons of wife swapping sites on the Internet. At first I watched videos of couples swapping partners. I remembered the feeling of screwing another man's wife and it immediately appealed to me.

When watching other types of pornography I always personalized the fantasy by imagining myself doing those things with my wife. I even dared to think that some day she'd come out of her shell and doing those things would be a real possibility. But swinging was out of the question. My traditional foreign wife on rare occasion showed flashes of willingness to explore new kinks, but she was far too possessive to ever consider such a thing. So when I fantasized about swinging my mind ****** me to leave DD out of the fantasy, because it was plainly impossible.

But at some point I stopped focusing on the pleasure of being able to screw someone else's wife, and began to ponder the other aspect of wife swapping that I'd largely ignored; what it was like to have another man screwing mine at the same time? It didn't take long for me to discard the idea of screwing other men's wives and completely zero in on the latter. I knew DD wouldn't swap with me, but would she cheat?

The thought scared the **** out of me to the point of making me sick in the stomach at first, partly because we had drifted so far apart that I couldn't rule it out. She had after all, cheated on her first husband with me. But at the same time it excited me like nothing else ever had. Imagining my prude, pseudo-asexual wife, whoring around like some cheap slut, gave me a rush.

Maybe it was easier to harbor a fantasy like that because we weren't as close at the time, so it was easier to detach myself from the emotional side of things. It was also easier for me to picture it as a reality more so than a fantasy, because unlike the other fetishes I'd obsessed over; this was something she'd actually done before. I knew I wasn't the first person she'd cheated on her ex-husband with.

My newest sexual obsession had begun. After that, every time I watched porn I imagined that it was my wife getting fucked on that screen, by someone other than me. I drifted away from the swinger sites and found more of an infatuation with sites that focused solely on men watching their wives fuck other men. I learned the term cuckold and it became a staple in my search engine.

That led me to Literotica. At first I wasn't so interested in reading about sex I could be watching on a video. But porno, with all of the cheesy plot lines, if there was one at all, left something to be desired. I knew those guys sitting their watching the porn starlet get screwed weren't actual husbands.

Somehow it became just as important to me how they got to the scene as what happened in it. I wanted more realism in my fantasies, because for a while, there was a big part of me that actually considered just how real this fantasy could become. And I wanted that, I wanted DD to spread her legs for another man.

It started with scenarios involving women who fucked men to please their voyeuristic husbands. But like everything else in the dark world of my obsession, it escalated. Soon I was paying attention to the most extreme, humiliating, cuckold stories there were. I couldn't get enough of it. As my obsession grew, my self-esteem plummeted.

There were days I'd want to throw up just looking at my wife. The guilt of knowing what dirty fantasies I had about her ate at me. Our marriage was hanging on by a thread, and thinking about losing her forever was the saddest feeling in the world. One minute I'd be plotting on how to get her laid, the next I'd be racking my brain trying to figure out how to fix things between us.

I was posting on cuckold websites asking strangers for advice on how to get DD to fuck someone else. I was serious about it. But no good advice came. Then I'd be on relationship websites asking strangers how to put the fire back in my marriage. No good advice came.

Then one day I found an online friend named Ron. He was the author of some of my favorite cuckold stories from Literotica. I'd sent him a rather jubilant e-mail expressing my love of his work one day, which was more like worshipping at his feet since I was rock hard in my fantasy mindset when I wrote it. He replied in kind, and we began an ongoing dialogue about my wife, and my fantasies.

Deep down I realized this guy was probably as sick as I was, but he also seemed very grounded and down to earth. Who was I to judge? We were seeds from the same tree. He made no outlandish claims about his experiences in the lifestyle, although he vaguely admitted to having some hands on experience with cuckolding. He didn't give me any pie-in-the-sky idea's about turning my wife into an overnight whore, but he did do his part in persuading me to pursue it. Sometimes I got the feeling he wanted to see it happen for me as badly as I did at the time.

By the same token, he appeared sympathetic to the conflicted nature of my desires. He listened and showed empathy when I backpedaled and recanted my deviant wishes in favor of rekindling the love in my marriage. He could be a total perv right along with me, or play the role of marriage councilor. Not only that, he was the only one I had to discuss such things with. I might have gone nuts if I hadn't had that outlet to vent my conflicted feelings.

During that vulnerable time in my life, I shared more information about myself and DD than any logical person would ever consider giving a stranger. Hell, I'd sent him pictures of DD and myself, talked about work, talked about family, this guy could have written my biography. But Ron never felt like a stranger to me, he was a friend. A very strange friend, but the same could have been said about me from his end.

Then came that strange night - the night I'd taken the picture of DD naked on our bed. She'd come home ***** off her ass after another ******** binge at Bennigans. I was fully prepared for another unprovoked attack on my character and a lengthy, emotional fight. I was used to it when she came home in that state. I got attacked all right, but in a very different way.

DD started peeling off her clothes the second she stepped in the door, laughing and stumbling around. I stood there in a total state of confusion, wondering what had happened to my wife. She stripped off everything but her thigh-high stockings and tackled me to the living room floor, kissing me with the kind of passion that hadn't existed between us in years.

I was stunned but not about to ruin the moment by asking for an explanation, so I went with it. She was aggressively ripping off my clothes and using sexual innuendo like I'd never heard come out of her mouth before, save for the first night I'd met her. For the first time since the night I met her, we fucked somewhere other than the bedroom, as she mounted me and rode me hard right on the living floor. That was another first, DD never got on top.

I remembered her pussy being wetter than I'd ever felt it before; it was sloppy and made a huge mess of our carpet. I remembered the hungry look in her eyes as she fucked me. Her aggressiveness had turned me on so much that I couldn't manage to make it last more than couple of minutes. But she wasn't satisfied with that.

She led me to the bedroom and told me she was feeling naughty. That's when the camera came out, at her suggestion. She was posing for me in various suggestive positions, showing me an exhibitionistic side of her that I never knew existed. Unfortunately, in my excitement I'd forgot to put the memory card in the camera! It was too late when I finally realized it and dug out the memory card. She'd lost her mood for posing and I'd only gotten the one last photo of her kneeling on the bed, before she snatched the camera from me and moved on to something else.

That something else was sucking my cock. That was big deal for me, because I could count on one hand the number of blowjobs she'd given me in the four years prior to that; three. She sucked me like she never had before that night, she was hungry and enthusiastic about it unlike the other times, and she refused to quit before I came. Having already cum once I was lasting quite a while, until she threw another curveball my way.

While sucking my cock, she lubricated a finger with her mouth, reached between my legs and slithered her finger into my ass! That was my introduction the prostate massage, and with her working me over with her finger and mouth at the same time, I was blowing seed all over her face in no time flat.

Staring at my sexy wife with my cum splattered all over her face drove me nuts. She looked the part of the cock hungry cum slut I'd always made her out to be in my fantasies. When she pulled me to her lips and kissed me that way, it was one of the most erotic things she'd ever done.

She didn't wipe it off either when she demanded I fuck her again. I was exhausted but she did all the work, riding my face for a very long time while I licked her sloppy pussy before hopping on my dick again and riding me until the sun came up. The next day she was silent and hardly even looked at me. I knew she was embarrassed about it.

But after that, things began to change for the better. Sex was still as mundane as ever on her sober days, but when she drank there was a lot less arguing and a lot more fucking. A blowjob was a virtual lock, along with the accompanying prostate massage, and I always got to blow my load on her face. She was aggressive, and needy, and took control. All I did was hang on for the ride and do whatever she asked.

The catch 22 was that her ******** became much less frequent, and with it so did the good sex. But the rift between us seemed to dissipate. We were talking and communicating again, and enjoying each others company like we had before. It was like we'd somehow re-fallen in love. The next six months were good.

With our relationship on more solid ground, I all but abandoned the idea of getting her to fuck other men. I did not however, abandon the fantasy. Wanting DD to be a slut for other men was still an obsession, and if anything, the obsession became even stronger. But I'd finally resigned myself to leaving it forever as a fantasy. I no longer thought of ways to actually make it happen.

I sighed deeply after recounting those events in my head, feeling a little less horny than before.

"Here I go again," I shook my head, "A fucking slave to a fantasy." I pulled up Literotica and clicked on one of my favorite stories, one written by Ron.

I looked at the lotion, but hesitated to begin my ritual. I sat there, idle, cursing myself. I could have been fucking my beautiful wife, but instead I was about to masturbate to the idea of her fucking someone else. I rarely felt such remorse before an orgasm, that *********** was reserved for afterwards, but that night was different.

I almost clicked off the Internet and went to try and make another go at my wife. And even if she wasn't going to put out that night maybe I'd just hold her...but I didn't. And that would later prove to be a life changing decision.

Part 4 -- The moth driven to the flame.

My hard dick was already in hand when my instant messenger beeped. I clicked on it. The message was from RagingBull68 -- Ron's screen name.

RagingBull68: Thinking dirty thoughts?

Me: Well I'm online aren't I? LOL Reading one of yours.

RagingBull68: Good choice. Cock in hand?

Me: You know it.

RagingBull68: Shall I let you get back to it?

Me: No. I got all night. In the dog house.

RagingBull68: What now?

Me: Slip of the tongue during sex.

RagingBull68: ....Did you tell her?

Me: No. But accidentally said something along the lines.

RagingBull68: She ***** again?

Me: No. Unfortunately. But she suggested the dirty talk again.

RagingBull68: Suggested it sober? She's coming around. Now is the time.

Me: Time for...?

RagingBull68: Stop torturing yourself. Tell her. The truth will set you free.

Me: Just a fantasy. Not going to happen. She'd flip.

RagingBull68: Fantasy is only a prelude to reality my friend. You can have it.

Me: Don't want it.

RagingBull68: No? I disagree. I know better.

Me: LOL. Maybe.

RagingBull68: Not maybe. You need it. Your slut wife needs it too. DD wants to be a whore. And you want her pussy used.

My cock jumped as I read his words. I loved it when he talked that way. It was far more erotic to hear someone talking about my wife directly than trying to mentally insert her name into a fictional story, especially someone who knew so much about her and I.

RagingBull68: There?

Me: Yeah, sorry.

RagingBull68: Got excited, didn't you.

Me: What can I say? LOL

RagingBull68: See...told you...you deny yourself...you deny her.

Me: It's not so simple.

RagingBull68: But it is. Your fear gets in the way. Bliss awaits both of you.

Me: Or divorce.

RagingBull68: That won't happen. Love is love. Sex is sex.

Me: For me. Not for her.

RagingBull68: Not so. You are fooled by her fear...when she's sober. But when she's been to the bar she loves sex, yes? A ***** mouth speaks for a sober heart -- your words.

Me: Seems that way.

RagingBull68: She can't get enough. You told me.

Me: True.

RagingBull68: And you don't give her enough. You can't satisfy her when she's in that state.

Me: She's insatiable.

RagingBull68: Like I said. You don't satisfy her.

I felt a lump in my throat. When he put it like that, I felt my insecurities flaring up.

Me: I probably don't go long enough.

RagingBull68: We've been through this. You don't satisfy her. You told me that. You know it. Don't lie to yourself it's not healthy my friend.

Me: I guess.

RagingBull68: You guess? We're always honest with each other. You're denying your own words now?

Me: No.

RagingBull68: Then just say it. Say what you said before. Sober she lays there like a lump of coal. *********** she gives you more than you can handle. You can't satisfy your wife. Say it.

Me: I can't satisfy my wife.

I got a chill as I typed those words. Ron had a way of ******* reality to slap me in the face.

RagingBull68: But someone else can. You know it. And she knows it too. So what do you think will happen?

Me: I don't know.

RagingBull68: She was a cheating whore when you met her. What will stop her this time?

Me: Love, I hope.

RagingBull68: That's not what you hope. You hope she will offer her whore pussy to another man to get what you can't give her. That's what you hope.

Me: I don't want to lose her.

My heart was beating frantically, and my cock was stiffening.

RagingBull68: Things have been good lately, yes?

Me: Yes. For the most part.

RagingBull68: Then now is the time. Go with her on the journey before she goes it alone. You'll both be happier.

I couldn't respond. It sounded crazy and it made sense at the same time. My conflicted emotions kept me frozen.

RagingBull68: You're hard right now thinking about that little Asian slut of yours getting it good from a strange cock.

Reflexively, I answered: Yes.

RagingBull68: Care to play a little?

Me: Ok.

RagingBull68: What did she wear today?

Me: Red pant suit, white blouse underneath. Nothing special. Work clothes.

RagingBull68: And her underwear?

Me: Black bra, and boy shorts, I think. It was dark in the room as usual.

RagingBull68: They were purple. I know because I saw them today when I fucked her.

Me: oh

It was all I could think to say. When Ron and I played this game he did most of the typing. I'd be busy jerking off.

RagingBull68: The bitch was walking through the mall blabbing on her cell phone. She was talking to someone about how pathetic you were in bed. She was talking very loud and everyone could hear her. I wonder if it was anyone you know?

RagingBull68: I followed her into a store, Bebe I think. Wait, let me look at the receipt...yep Bebe. She was searching for a new outfit. She told the person on the phone she needed to buy something sexy to attract someone who could fuck her better.

RagingBull68: I knew that slut was ripe for a good fuck so I made sure I brushed up against her tight little ass with my big hard dick in my jeans as I passed her in the store. It wasn't quick either. She got a good feel for what I had to offer.

RagingBull68: She couldn't stop smiling at me. A hot little piece of ass, that wife of yours. I knew she'd make a good pin cushion for my cock. So while she was picking through things on the rack, I pressed up behind her again.

RagingBull68: Only this time I didn't move. I put my hands on her hips, pressed my bulge against her ass, and rubbed against her for quite a while. She didn't stop me. She started breathing harder. I told her to hang up the phone. She did.

RagingBull68: I told her that if she wanted to be sexy she should wear something that showed her body off more. I grabbed the skimpiest little red dress on the rack. I think she got excited just looking at it. But she frowned at the $200 price tag.

RagingBull68: I told her I'd buy it for her if she put it on for me. She got excited about that. Money has been a little tight lately, yes?

Me: It has.

RagingBull68: I know. She bitched as much about your inability to provide a better lifestyle for her as she did about your sorry excuse for a sex life. But more so than that, your wife really just wanted the chance to get naked for me.

RagingBull68: She wasn't as shy with me as she is with you. Maybe because she knew I saw her as nothing more than place to dump my sperm. She didn't have to pretend otherwise, or worry about what I'd think of her. She already knew what I thought of her.

RagingBull68: I took her into a dressing room and told her to strip. The fucking whore couldn't even hide her excitement. She peeled off that pantsuit in no time while I sat there and watched. I even made her dance for me a little in her underwear.

RagingBull68: Then I told her to take that off too. She needed it explained to her that a slut like her has no reason to be wearing underwear. The bitch hesitated a little too long to do it so I gave her ass a good hard spanking. That got her pussy wetter than before.

RagingBull68: She was dripping, my friend. Juice was running down her thigh. The whole dressing room smelled like her hairy cunt when she took her panties off. It was fun watching her trying to squeeze into that dress, too.

RagingBull68: Your wife wears a size 7, or a medium at Bebe. The dress I picked for her was an extra small. She started to get whiny about how it was too small, but I told her to shut the fuck up and put it on or I'd drag her out of the fitting room naked.

RagingBull68: I think she liked that idea because she just stood there staring at the dress like she couldn't figure out how to put it on. So I opened the door to the fitting room and pushed her out. There were two guys sitting out there waiting for their wives.

RagingBull68: She got a little antsy then when they started staring at her naked body. But I told to her stay put so she didn't try to run back into the dressing room. Your wife's a good little submissive slut, she does what she's told.

RagingBull68: I made her apologize and promise to put the dress on before I let her back in. Took her a while to get it on. She had a little too much ass and hip to pull it all the way down so it left the bottom half of her ass sticking out.

RagingBull68: From where I was sitting I could see cunt hair underneath the hem. Her tits didn't fit much better. Those are some beauties. The dress didn't cover any more than her little nipples. I made her go out and ask those two guys what they thought of it.

RagingBull68: They couldn't tell her enough how much they enjoyed seeing her in that dress. I told them for $20 I'd let them fuck her. They didn't know exactly what to say. They looked at her like she was going to object, but she didn't.

RagingBull68: I pulled up her dress and smacked her on the ass to show them who was in control. I offered again but they just rambled some crap about their wives being there. Oh well. I took her back in the dressing room, pushed her up against the mirror and...

I was stroking my dick voraciously, hanging on every word when he'd stopped. I waited for him to continue but he didn't.

Me: And? What!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!

RagingBull68: You sure you want to hear the rest of this?

Me: Yes!

RagingBull68: Say please.

Me: Pleeeeeeeease!

RagingBull68: How about I tell you in person?

Me: Are you joking?

RagingBull68: Not at all. We've been chatting now for what, 7 or 8 months? Why not meet? I'm not too far from you. You're in Oak Brook. I'm in Schaumburg.

I paused a moment contemplating his request. It never occurred to me that he might live in the same state as me, let alone a nearby city. I'd never asked. For that reason, the thought of meeting him never seemed like a possibility. I thought it might be nice to have a real life friend with a similar interest. My fantasy world was a lonely one, save for him.

RagingBull68: I haven't got all night.

Me: Where? When?

RagingBull68: Staybridge suites, Schaumburg. Leave now.

Me: Now? It's kinda late. Tomorrow maybe?

RagingBull68: Now or never. Also, bring a pair of your wife's worn panties. Let's have some fun.

"Let me get this straight. I'm supposed to drive to a hotel in Schaumburg to meet a guy I met on an Internet porn site and deliver a pair of my wife's dirty underwear?" I spoke out loud to no one. "And why now or never?"

Me: You gotta admit, this sounds a little weird.

RagingBull68: It's your fantasy. I'm only here to help. It will be like your first time willingly sharing your wife's cunt. Think about it. I also have some things I want to show you. You'll enjoy. TRUST ME.

Me: What is it?

RagingBull68: Only one way to find out. Room 217. Don't keep me waiting.

After that he signed off.

I had a deep curiosity about what it was he had to show me. My cock was still hard. And Ron never failed to deliver with his ideas and stories; his mind was as filthy as mine. Plus, I liked the guy.

And the thing about bringing my wife's used panties also peeked my interest. I guessed he wanted to see what her pussy smelled like. Awfully damn kinky in my book, but the thought excited me. It would be as close as any other man had ever gotten to DD's pussy during our marriage.

But still, it was a weird situation. I was trying to let common sense prevail over my sexually driven euphoria. But that was something that almost never happened.

Part 5 – The Partnership

This is part 5 of the series. Part 4 was contained in chapter 2. Parts 1-3 was contained in chapter 1.

I was shaking outside of room 217. I'd been standing there for almost five minutes and still hadn't knocked. It wasn't too late to turn around.

But who was I kidding? I'd come this far because my obsession ruled me. I had no power over it but for the palm of my own hand. I could have rubbed one out on my own and gotten enough mental clarity to avoid being here. But that was only delaying the inevitable. Bearing the burden of my all-consuming fantasy alone was wearing me down. I needed to share it.

I knocked.

A tall, fortyish man with slightly graying black hair opened the door, a towel wrapped around his waist. I thought he somewhat favored Richard Gere.

"I was wondering how long you were going to stand out there before you knocked," Ron spoke with a slight southern accent, standing aside as he held the door.

"Put yourself in my shoes," I said, cautiously stepping into the room.

"Oh, I understand you very well. That's why I let you stand out there and go through your process. I'm a patient man when I choose to be."

The room was small and had a peculiar smell to it. The queen-sized bed looked slept in. The floral print comforter was in a heap on the floor. A half empty bottle of Cognac sat atop the dresser. The room was tidy aside from that. Not a total dive, but nothing special.

"Excuse the condition of the room. I had a small party in here earlier and I've only just started cleaning up from it," He said, strolling in to the tiny bathroom and dispensing some deodorant under his arms.

"A party, huh?" I stood near the entrance of the room.

"A couple of friends of mine, and another man's wife," He said, plainly looking at me in the mirror.

"I see," I nodded. "Ohhhhh," I belatedly realized what he meant.

"Redhead, late twenties, nice tits. Fucked her in every orifice with her husband on speaker phone," Ron stated matter-of-factly, grinning.

"Sounds like fun," I answered, fidgeting with my hands, aimlessly looking around the room.

"You knew that about me, I presume," He asked, coming out of the bathroom and walking to the dresser.

"That you had a party?"

"That I fuck other men's wives for sport."

"You're a bull?"

"That term annoys me, but use it if you like," Ron poured some Cognac into two plastic cups.

"Actually, I didn't. I mean, I wasn't sure. In your stories you always write from the cuckold's perspective. But then when we started chatting you always did seem kind of...I don't know...aggressive?"

"I like writing as if the shoe were on the other foot. I find the dynamics of the submissive mind, fascinating. I'm particularly intrigued by those of you who have such a self-deluded image that you lack self-value to the point of actually favoring minimal sexual gratification, pain even, emotional and physical. I try, and if I do say so myself, succeed very well in conveying that type of psycho-sexual dysfunction in my stories because I've gained what I think is a very unique perspective on the situation."

I scratched my head trying to figure out if he had just insulted me or not. Trying not to sound ignorant, I addressed the part that I did understand. "I wouldn't necessarily say I'm a submissive."

Ron chuckled. "I would," he said, handing me a cup of Cognac. "Here, this will loosen you up a bit."

"Got me all figured out, huh?"

"I'd say so," He said, arrogantly. "I've encountered all types in this lifestyle. Some men are just victims of cold, selfish, calculating women and don't have the backbone to stand up for themselves. Others simply devalue their women so greatly that they long to see them used and humiliated, but also lack the backbone to do it themselves, detaching themselves from the act by putting it in another mans hands so they can hold on to their delusions of being a loving husband."

*****, what are you, the professor of cuckolding or something?" I wondered if he could sense the complex he was giving me. "So which one do you think I am?"

"Neither," he smiled. "Which is why I'm particularly interested in you. You convey the type of emotion and feelings that usually have to be absent to practice cuckoldry. I believe you actually do love and value your wife. And DD doesn't seem to be the manipulative type either, even though she is a whore."

Hearing him call my wife a whore sent a chill down my spine and rush of ***** to my dick. Somehow the effect was greater hearing it said out loud than seeing him type it on a screen. I quickly slammed the half-full cup Cognac.

"See what I mean," he cackled. "You get uncomfortable at the suggestion of your wife being anything but an angel, yet it excites you so much. I love it."

"So what am I, some sort of science project to you?"

"A lab rat of sorts," Ron laughed.

My expression got dark.

"I'm kidding! Lighten up!" He said, pouring me another cup of Cognac. "Sit down and relax for crying out loud! Get comfortable! I know it's not the Hilton, but you're in good company."

"The room is fine," I shrugged, sitting at the edge of the bed, "I just get a little awkward meeting new people."

"The room is a dive. But it's the kind of room you use to fuck a cheap whore, know what I mean? It's the kind of room I'd fuck your slut, Asian wife in."

As I instantly converted his words into a mental picture, my cock stiffened. "I suppose," I replied meekly.

Part of me felt obligated to sock him in the mouth for that remark. I had to remember the context in which we'd met. Spoken words verses written words. This was far more real now, and I was still adjusting.

Besides that, Ron was an imposing physical figure. I wasn't so sure I could take him anyway. As he handed me another cup of Cognac, I noticed his U.S.M.C. tattoo on his arm in old English letters.

"So like I was saying," Ron sat beside me on the bed. "I've taken quite an interest in you and your wife, as you know."

"Because I'm supposedly different than the other husbands you've dealt with?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. For one I think it would be fascinating to see how you react to the realization of your fantasy. And for another, I have to tell you, I really loathe most of the men whom I've cuckolded. A lot of their wives too. It was easy for me to use and humiliate them because of that. I'm sure you can imagine, the lack of respect I had for their marriages made me excellent at it. They were role-playing. I wasn't." Ron's gaze drifted towards the window as he took a long swig of the ******.

"What are you saying, Ron? You want to..."

"To make you the cuckold you've always wanted to be," he finished my sentence. "It'll be a challenge for me, because honestly, I actually like you." He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "But in spite of that, I fully intend to use your wife like I have every other whore I've encountered, and I will treat you the same as I've treated their husbands. I won't deny you the full experience, I promise."

"Um...look, that's flattering, I guess. But like I've been telling you, I don't think I could actually go through with it," I said, finishing another glass of Cognac.

"Well, that's the beauty of this lifestyle, you don't necessarily have to go through with anything. You simply remain passive, if not submissive, and let it happen like all sissy husbands do. Let me take control," Ron looked me directly in the eyes.

Did he just imply that I was a sissy? I wondered. "Ron, I don't know. I'm playing with fire here," I shook my head.

"That's part of the thrill," he smiled. "And the way I see it, it's inevitable that it will happen. You're fighting a losing battle with your demons. And your wife craves a real man to fuck her. Wouldn't you rather put it in the hands of someone who won't completely try to destroy your marriage? Believe me, if she's allowed to stray with a man who doesn't understand this lifestyle he will ultimately seek to posses your woman. I merely want to use her."

I stood up, went to the dresser, poured some more Cognac and promptly downed it. "You make it sound like I'm going to lose her if I don't do this."

"You have to admit, it's a real possibility, all things considered. You have no idea."

I sighed deeply, and faintly nodded as I fell back onto the bed. "But what makes you so sure that this will be the solution? What makes you think she'd even be a part of anything like this? As much as I fantasize about her cheating, it would **** me.

"I'd have to be involved, you know? I have to be a willing participant, and she has to know that I am. None of that hiding in closets bull**** and letting her think I don't know. And I don't see how I could get myself to explain to her, how I could be ok with that. I wouldn't even know where to start."

Ron grinned, knowingly. "It's the solution because unlike her previous husband, she knows she has a man who loves her, and she loves you back. But she also seeks to fulfill the part of her that's still wanting. If she truly believes she can have her cake and eat it too, by keeping your love and getting well fucked by another, why would she refuse? The rest, you just leave that to me. When the time comes, she'll be posing the question to you, not the other way around. I can make sure of that. I'm a master at this."

For the first time ever I found myself seriously contemplating my fantasy becoming a reality. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might jump out of my chest and land in Ron's lap. "And you...you really think you can do this? I mean, I don't even know if you're her type, no offense."

"My friend, I'm already half way there."

"What do you mean?"

"I told you I have something to show you. Brace yourself." Ron leaned over and grabbed a laptop computer from the nightstand and set it in his lap. He opened it and began clicking and typing. "About that little fantasy story I was telling you earlier."

"The one you still haven't finished? You really had me going, I wish you wouldn't have stopped."

"Sorry, but I'm going to leave the ending up to your imagination. You'll have more fun with it that way. What I wanted to say was, what if I told you that story wasn't a fantasy?"

My heart skipped a beat. He had to be fucking with me. "I'd say you were bull****ting me."

"Well, I am a fiction writer, and so I do take some liberties," Ron turned his head and looked at me squarely, "But I can guarantee you that at least some of what I told you actually did happen today."

My lower jaw hung open *************. I didn't know what to say. "H...how?" was all I could muster. Part of me didn't believe him. Part of me wanted to. All of me was numb.

He turned the laptop screen towards me and set it in my lap. "Feel free to scan through these at your leisure."

I was looking at Ron's email inbox. I first noticed one of the messages I'd sent him. Then I noticed several messages from a familiar e-mail address...it was my wife's. My glance immediately shot in his direction.

Ron was smiling. "DD and I have been chatting for a while."

I frantically opened the most recent e-mail, titled - Re; Feeling naughty today? The first thing I saw was a picture of DD standing in what appeared to be a bathroom stall. I could tell it was a self-shot cell phone pic. She was holding her red suit jacket and the blouse underneath open, exposing her bra-clad breasts, and her suit pants were at her knees, showing off her panties. Her underwear was purple, like he'd said. The message was short and sweet – 'Always feeling naughty for you'.

My hands were shaking so badly it was difficult to open the next one. I couldn't speak, or even look at Ron.

The next one was from two days earlier and had no picture, only text. 'Yeah, I hear what you're saying. It was fun though. My emotions are all over the place these days. I'm happy though, mostly.' It was far too vague for me to understand the nature or the meaning of the message.

The next one contained another low quality cell phone picture. It appeared to be in our kitchen. DD was holding the cell phone out in front of her, only her upper half was visible, and she had on only a bra. Her mouth was opened wide and she was pushing a cucumber into it. The text was short, and read like an inside joke - 'Stretch! LOL'

I continued rummaging through his e-mail. Many of them were only text and most were short. My wife was discussing her emotions, her moods, and our relationship, explaining things her and I had done, and conversations we'd had. Some of them discussed her job and co-workers, most I knew, and some I didn't. All of the messages were about as vague as the first one I'd read and left me little to go on as far as figuring out what the nature of her involvement with Ron was.

A few of them had pictures attached. A couple of them were innocent enough, fully clothed, smiling. One had both of us in it, I remembered the night we took it. The majority of them though, had her in various stages of undress in a provocative pose. I hadn't found any of them with nudity.

Most of what I read was pretty tame. But a few things concerned me more than others. There was one picture of her lying on a bed, one that wasn't ours, wearing only panties, a see through babydoll, and fishnet stockings with her legs spread wide. Given the distance and angle I knew she couldn't have snapped it herself with a cell phone. Had Ron taken that picture?

I was also bothered by a name that kept popping up a lot, Kane. I had no idea who that was, and nothing in particular was said that bothered me, just that she mentioned him so much.

The main thing that bothered me was a passage of text in one of the messages that read – 'After we made love tonight, I went into the bathroom and cried. I was at my wits end. I finally had to accept the fact that I can never have an orgasm with the man I love. No matter how he tries, he will never satisfy me.'

"Wh...I...did...who...uh..." I put my hand against my mouth and tried to gather my thoughts as I exhaled deeply. "How did this happen?"

"What are you thinking right now? How do you feel?" Ron analyzed me.

"I, I don't know. This doesn't even make sense to me. I don't know what's going on. You have to tell me!"

"I can imagine it's hard to make sense of it. Those e-mails are incomplete. I deleted a lot of them. We've had some very revealing conversations. I only wanted you to see a handful of them so you'd know I wasn't bull****ting you when I tell you about your wife," Ron refilled my cup with ****** and handed it to me.

"Did you fuck my wife?" I asked, barely able to utter the words without clearing my throat.

Ron smiled and brought his hand to his chin as if he were debating his answer. "I knew you would ask that. No, I haven't fucked her yet. But I will if you ask nicely."

I tipped my cup back and took another *****. My conflicted mind was half way between fantasy land and painful reality, I wasn't sure if I was relieved or disappointed. "Please don't be vague right now. I need to know exactly what's going on. She's sending you pictures of herself and telling you personal ****! How did this happen, Ron!"

Ron squinted. "Change your tone, and ask me nicely."

"What?"

"If you're going to be a cuckold it's important for you to respect the man that owns your wife's pussy. DD has to always see that I am in charge. Now, if you want to hear this, ask properly," Ron brashly demanded.

I was too stunned by his sudden change in demeanor to speak at first, but finally relented. "Ron, please explain this to me. I'm asking as a friend."

Ron sat beside me and patted me on the back. "That's a good start. Did you bring what I asked you for?"

I nodded, pulling a balled up pair of DD's panties from my pocket.

Ron took them from me and pressed them against his face. "Mmmmmm. She got fucked the day she wore these. Her pussy was ripe. She must have been wet all day." Ron removed her panties from his face and began to explain. "I began chatting with her shortly after you and I began talking. One of those photo's you sent of her, it was taken at a company gathering, yes?"

I thought about it then nodded.

"The name of her company was in big letters on a banner in the background. I looked them up on line and found a company directory. It wasn't hard to find her. I found an obviously Asian first name with your Irish last name and I knew it was your wife. Darareaksmey Mc'Kibben?" Ron chuckled at the name.

"Her name means 'bright star'," I said.

"So I e-mailed her. I told her that I'd been browsing the website and come across her name, which was the same as the last name of an old friend of mine who I'd lost contact with from the same town. I asked if there was any chance she was related to Tony Mc'Kibben. Of course she informed me that she was your wife.

"She was very friendly and helpful right from the beginning. She offered to take my contact info and pass it on to you, but I told her not to, that I wanted to come into town and make a surprise visit.

"I started out by asking questions about you and how things were, how long she'd been married to you, things like that. Your wife is quite a chatterbox, my friend! And trusting too, just like you. She was more than happy to tell me whatever I wanted to know, and plenty more that I didn't even ask...like you," Ron chuckled.

"You guys are two peas in a pod, that's for sure. No wonder you wound up together. Never once doubted that I was who I said I was. But she had no reason too, after all I knew a lot about you from all of our e-mail exchanges.

"I won her over pretty easily. I showed her I had a sense of humor right away. I'd crack jokes about you, like how boring you are, how you spend too much time on the computer, and all of the other things you told me she complained about. That resonated with her so she knew she didn't have to pretend that your marriage was perfect just for my sake. In fact, before I knew it I became the complaint department for all things involving you."

I shook my head, "Telling all of our personal business to a stranger."

"You should talk," Ron said, sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

I bowed my head and took a *****.

"When a woman wants to vent about her man, there is no one she'd rather talk to than someone who knows her man. And there I was, unassuming, non judgmental, a good listener, and I could cheer her up by making her laugh. You should thank me, because I pulled your ass out of a sling more than once, whether you know it or not!"

Ron stopped talking and stared at me, and I realized he'd meant it. "Thank you," I said.

"Your welcome. Because it got to the point where the bitch would never shut up. I had to listen and pretend to care about every stupid little thing that went wrong in her life. Car problems, money problems, she hates her job, her boss, she broke a nail, her friend wore an ugly dress, you name it, I had to hear it all. But it all paid off. By pretending to give a **** about all the little things, I got her to open up about the big thing."

"Sex," I stated dryly, now hanging on every word.

"Oh yes, my friend. I cracked a few jokes about how you never were a ladies man and she had a field day talking about your lack of performance in the bedroom. Did you know she's never had an orgasm with you?"

I didn't answer, but the way I shrunk into my shirt must have told him how I felt. I downed the rest of my Cognac.

"She wasn't happy at all. You remember that phase the two of you went through? The issues were many, but that was at the top of it. She was going to leave you," Ron said, sympathetically.

"Leave me?" My words came out in a whisper. I felt like I'd just been punched in the stomach.

"Don't sit there looking like a lost puppy. Once again, I saved your ass. I convinced her she should fuck other men," He stated easily.

"You did what!" I crowed, having to fight off a spell of dizziness.

"Would it be better if you were single? Because that's what would have happened if I hadn't worked my magic on her."

"Who, Ron? Who did she fuck? How long has it been going on?"

"Hold your horses. I didn't say she fucked anyone," Ron looked irritated.

"Did she?" I waited with baited breath.

Ron cleared his throat and ignored my question. "I gotta give it to her, she loves you enough that she didn't want to cheat on you. Most sluts like her wouldn't think twice about getting their needy pussies filled. She was absolutely convinced that the right thing to do was to get a divorce. In a conventional relationship, she'd have been right. Unfortunately you kept your little fantasy from her so she had no idea that she wasn't in a conventional relationship.

"It wasn't very hard to convince her. First I had to get her off the idea of divorce. I made a strong case that it would hurt you a lot more if she left you than if you found out she'd cheated. I even managed to convince her that you were the type of guy who would forgive her if she got caught. I practically guaranteed it.

"Don't worry, I didn't tell her you were a perv who liked the idea of her getting her pussy stretched by strange cock. It was some **** about you being more driven by your emotions than your sexual needs. What a load of crap, huh?" Ron laughed.

"She really didn't want to leave you; she just couldn't cope with idea of never having a fulfilling sex life. I gave her an out, made her feel like she had a get out of jail free card, so-to-speak."

The feeling of relief that came with hearing that she still loved me allowed me to drift completely back into fantasyland. I sat up straight and waited anxiously for him to continue.

"She couldn't talk to you about it, you know? Not wanting to hurt your feelings and all. You're lucky I was there," Ron said, proudly.

"Thank you," I assumed was what he was waiting to hear. "I can't believe she never mentioned you though. All this time?"

Ron smiled. "I thought about that too. Women are tricky though; they can keep their dirty secrets. I think she looks at me more like her friend than yours at this point. Plus, things have gotten pretty flirtatious between us. I'm quite positive that she wants me to fuck her. Maybe she thinks I'll just forget about reconnecting with you and be her lover on the side. She's hinted at it."

"Oh, fuck," I gasped. My cock was as stiff as ever, and my head was doubly clouded by fantasy and ******.

Ron gave me a knowing grin and continued. "This all came about within the first couple of months I chatted her up. I got her to exchange some photos with me. Nothing risqué at first, but it gave me an opportunity to compliment her and flirt a little. But it snowballed pretty quickly. She's a horny little bitch, let me tell you! Sorry you only get to see it when she's *****, but she just isn't comfortable with you in the sex department. You make her feel awkward."

"She told you that?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Then the photo's became more frequent, and more daring. She's asked several times if I'd like to see her naked. I told her I'd like to save that for when we met. She told me she couldn't wait. I'm savoring the anticipation. That's why I've never asked you for that nude photo you have of her. But I'd like to think you would have at least offered it, since I'm the one responsible for you getting it!"

"What? How? She was ***** that night, she get's that way."

"Not like that, you know better. True, she was out ********, but I got her all wet and worked up. We were having cyber sex via text message while she was at the bar that night. She calls it 'sexting'."

"Did you tell her to do that?"

"The photos, or the prostate massage?" Ron laughed. "She said she felt guilty about the cyber sex, it was sort of the first time she'd cheated...by her standards. So I told her to go give you a spicy time when she got home. I did make a few suggestions."

"It was the best sex we ever had," I mumbled. "And she was so much happier after that night."

"I remember. You told me many times how much better your marriage was after that night. That's because she finally had an outlet for her sexuality, obviously. She was on the road to sexual satisfaction for the first time in a long time, and she didn't even have to give you up to do it. And after a while the guilt stopped gnawing at her. I kept her content for quite a while with our cyber and phone sex sessions."

"You had phone sex with her!" I blurted out.

"Oh yes. What do you think inspired those revisited dirty talking sessions you love so much? She gets all breathy and hot when I call her a dirty little fuck slut. Though she says she's not as comfortable with you talking dirty to her. She just doesn't see you as a sexual being, she see's you as someone she wants to love and respect her. Having you calling her a slut doesn't exactly fall in line, ya know? But apparently there are moments she can't resist, even if it's with you."

"She does like it. I knew it," I absently muttered, not even aware that I was rubbing myself through my pants.

Ron looked down at what my hand was doing, making me aware of it. "Go ahead and let him out. Might as well."

"Oh...uh...no need," I said, uncomfortably.

"Don't be a baby," Ron said, unwrapping his towel and letting his own dick spring out. "You jerk off to my stories. Hell, we've even had what many people would consider cyber sex. Tonight, for example? And I doubt you'll be containing it while you're watching me screw your slut wife in every orifice. So get used to it."

I could hardly help myself. The strong buzz I had from the Cognac only made me more suggestible than I already was. It felt good to undo my pants and let my cock spring free.

"What are you, a five-incher? Six at best?" Ron smirked. "That explains a lot. It's more than I thought you'd have, but still. Nine and thick here, buddy!" Ron stroked his cock to a very quick erection. "I did a couple of porno's in the early 90's. I'll send you some links," He boasted.

I sat there staring at his huge pole, imagining what it could do to my wife.

"You like that?" Ron asked, finally getting me to look up at his face.

"Uh...no! I was just..."

"Cock envy, huh?"

"Sure," I looked away from him, uncomfortably.

"For someone who used to jack off to gay porn, you sure act like a homophobe."

"That was just a phase," I assured him. "I'm not attracted to men. But I'm not a homophobe either."

"Hey, I get it. You like big cocks, you're just not interested in the men attached to them," Ron laughed.

"I never said I liked big cocks!"

"Of course you do. You don't fantasize about your wife getting fucked by a little one, do you?"

I thought about it for a moment and admitted, "No."

Ron grabbed my wife's silky, pink panties, wrapped them around his dick and began to stroke it with them. "One day soon your wife's cunt could be impaled on this big cock. What do you think about that?"

I shrugged, getting goose bumps at the thought of it.

"Enough of the coy **** from you. We both know what you want. Just say it. Tell me you want to see this big cock in DD's pussy, cuckold. "

I was frozen, watching DD's panties slide up and down his long shaft, imagining her in them...sliding up and down his long shaft. I couldn't get myself to say no, nor could I get myself to say yes.

"I'm waiting," he said, impatiently.

"Ron...please...give me time to think about this," I finally spoke. Under the spell of intoxicating fantasies and ******, it took every ounce of my being not to blurt out an astounding, 'Yes! Fuck my wife!'

"You don't have time. And I don't have any more patience. You and your fucking indecision have tested my patience for too long. You beg for it, then you wallow in shame. It's pathetic! What's the matter with you? Commit yourself to some form of action rather than just sitting there complacent while you suffer from your miserable, unfulfilling sex life!" Ron scolded me.

"If I'm not going to fuck her, then I'm going to focus my attention elsewhere. I could have crammed my dick into your wife a thousand times by now, but I've waited for you to become as willing as your wife. That wasn't easy, her being the hot little piece of ass that she is. Do you know the things I could make a submissive little whore like that do?" Ron grabbed my hand and placed it on his cock.

"Stroke it for me," Ron commanded, wrapping my fingers around my wife's panties and ******* my hand in an up and down motion.

I reflexively tried to pull back, but his grip was powerful and firm.

"Don't fight it. Show some appreciation for the cock that's going to save your marriage. So help me, if you take your hand off my dick you can consider me gone from your life and hers. Make your mind up, boy. Now." Ron released his grip on my hand.

I nodded, staring in disbelief at my own hand, gliding up and down another man's cock, my wife's panties separating my skin from his.

"That's a yes then? Repeat after me. I'm in control of her sex life, and yours. Your wife's pussy belongs to me and you will do whatever I ask of you. If at any time you refuse to do what I ask of you, this arrangement is off. Understand?" Ron looked me directly in the eyes.

I swallowed hard. "I understand. You're in control of our sex life and my wife's pussy is yours. I'll do what you say."

"Good choice, because you're marriage might be in a bit of trouble again," Ron laid back, propping up a pillow behind his head. "Keep stroking, boy. You really know how to work a cock with your hand. All that practice at jerking off really shows."

"Ron..." I began.

"Address me as sir from this point on," Ron said, sternly.

"Sir? What kind of trouble is my marriage in? I thought she was happy?"

"Well, DD was getting restless. We were having fun with the cyber and phone sex, but that slut of ours has a needy pussy that needed to get stuffed. So I gave her permission to fuck someone," Ron answered casually.

My eyes got wide. "You gave her permission!"

Ron smiled big. "Well, sort of. I can't say I've fully put her under my control yet. But she did consult me about the idea of spreading her legs for someone she likes. Not to say she wouldn't have done it anyway, but I think she needed me to make her feel ok about it. So I did."

"My, my, my wife is fucking someone?" I felt my body shaking.

"For the past few months," Ron nodded. "There have been a few, but only one that you ought to really be concerned about. His name is Kane."

"DD is fucking someone else," I repeated, lost in my thoughts.

"Spreading her pussy around like the whore she is," Ron chuckled. "Snap out of it, boy. I know your feelings are a mixed bag, but it does no good to think of the negatives. Just take it with a grain of salt and enjoy your fantasy."

"I, I know. You're right," I said, not truly convinced. "How many men has she been with? Did she tell you about it? Did she like it?" I rattled off questions in a frenzy.

"The first was a man who works at her favorite watering hole. A bartender. I believe his name is also Tony."

"That guy? He's a kid! He's barely old enough to legally pour a ******"

Ron grinned. "And his inexperience showed in the bathroom stall where he fucked her. She said he pounded her cunt like an ******, and she enjoyed it quite a bit for all of the sixty seconds that it lasted. Poor boy got too excited I guess. She wasn't too happy about that. No repeat business for him."

"In a bathroom stall?" I fixated on what a slutty act that was. Then I remembered banging her in the parking lot the night I'd met her. I guessed she was staying true to form. I wrapped my free hand around my own cock.

"What's interesting is the way she described him," Ron noted. "Dark hair, blue eyes, skinny, sound familiar? And to top it off his name is also Tony. The second guy didn't have a name. A random pick up at the same bar and she got herself fucked in the back seat of a Honda. First orgasm she's had in years that she didn't have to give herself. Dark hair, blue eyes, skinny...she definitely has a type."

"The backseat of a Honda," I breathed heavily as I stroked my dick. "Slut...whore..."

"You're focusing a little too much on your pleasure and not enough on mine. Work my cock, cuck boy," Ron said irritably.

"Sorry," I said, meekly.

Ron grabbed my hand and stopped my rhythm. "Take your clothes off."

I looked at him blankly.

"And put these on," he tossed DD's panties into my lap.

I didn't move, shocked at what he was asking me to do.

"You've read my stories and gotten off to them, so don't look stunned when I make a simple request like this. I'm about to get to the important part. But if you'd like me to stop and leave you alone, go ahead and sit there looking at me like a fucking idiot. Get to it! Thirty seconds!"

I got myself undressed as quickly as I could, Ron watching intently as I stripped naked. I stared at the panties, my mind cueing in on the fact that they'd last been worn by my wife, and according to Ron, had covered her pussy after she'd been fucked by another man. The kinkiness of putting them on suddenly seemed strangely exciting to me. In my head I was asking myself, what the hell is wrong with you! I needed another weird fetish like I needed a hole in the head.

They were a little tight, but I managed to get them on, my hard dick poking out the side.

Ron nodded approvingly. "Good, sissy boy. I'm glad they fit. From now on I want you to wear your wife's underwear exclusively."

My face crumpled up like an angry *****.

"The answer you're looking for is yes, sir."

"Yes, sir," I said, reluctantly, not convinced I would actually follow such an order.

Ron patted the bed and gave his cock a few strokes, "Now, get back to it and let me fill you in on the rest."

I sat down beside him and took his swollen rod back in my hand. Without DD's panties covering it I could feel every contour of his veiny monster, making me even more keenly aware of what I was doing. It felt strange to be holding another man's dick in my hand, but not as awkward as I thought it would. I felt ashamed for not being completely disgusted.

"Get it wet," Ron ordered.

Very slowly I lowered my head towards his dick, putting on a display of reluctance that was as much for my own benefit as it was for his. Deep down, I could not allow myself to believe that I was actually ok with what I was doing.

With my mouth hovering only inches above his huge pole, I expelled my spit onto his cock to lube him up. I worked it in with a few strokes of my hand, and felt Ron pushing on the back of my head.

"Wetter," he said, firmly pressing me down to his cock until it hit my lips. "Open up."

My mouth opened and he pushed me further, ******* me to open wider until I had the full girth of his cock stuffed tightly in my mouth.

"Good. Now move your hand, you won't need it," He said, gripping my wrist and pulling my hand from his shaft.

I looked up at his smug, grinning face, realizing the power he must have felt over me.

"That's right, suck cock, Tony. Suck the cock that's going to fill DD's cunt. You're going to learn to love it. You'll be as good as your wife in no time," Ron moaned.

With his hand gripping the back of my head, he began to guide me up and down his shaft with my mouth.

I didn't resist. I knew there was no point. I'd already crossed the line, put him in control of making my long time fantasy a reality, and though wearing panties and playing with his dick hadn't been a part of the fantasy, I told myself that it was a necessary evil to please him – that I was doing it for the sake of achieving my fantasy and not for any other reason.

At the same time, it was the cure for my guilt. I should welcome this, I told myself. I reminded myself that essentially, I'd agreed to allow this man to make a whore of my wife, and a mockery of my marriage. I felt low down and dirty, more at that moment than ever before. ****** to wear panties, ****** to suck his dick, that was my punishment. I deserved it.

"The third time was with a man you know. Ben is his name."

"Mmmmuhg!" I grunted with my mouth full. Ben was an older, married man who lived across the street! I never liked him.

"Shhhh, suck that cock, and let me finish," Ron said, easily. "She seduced him. I had to tell her how. She's only just now learning how to command her sexuality. Most women know instinctively the power they have over men, but DD is a work in progress.

"Anyhow, that was another one that didn't turn out how she hoped. He has a nice cock I hear, but completely clueless. She took a vacation day from her job just so she could fuck him in your house while you were at work. He screwed her right in your living room. But don't worry he won't be back.

"She was getting frustrated. Three cocks, and two were a complete waste of time. DD found out just how many men there are out here who don't know how to fuck. She was pretty broken up about it too. That same night I spent an hour on the phone with her trying to make her stop crying about how she'd risked her marriage for nothing. She was putting a major guilt trip on herself. She was ready to give it up and resign herself to a lifetime of masturbatory orgasms and unfulfilling sex with you. Can you believe that?

"But I knew you wouldn't want that, so I talked her out of it and told her to speak with her friends to find a guy with a proven track record. So apparently she heard through the grapevine about this young man named Kane, who works at her job. He was supposed to be the cat's ass when it came to laying the pipe.

"Watch your fucking teeth, sissy boy!" Ron hissed.

"Shiree," I gasped.

"Breath through your nose. There you go. Yeeeeessss, yeeeeesssss, suck me. Now you've got it," Ron relaxed. "So where was I? Ohhh fuck. You're sucking that cock like you like it! Do you like being a cocksucker, sissy boy? Mmmmm suck my big dick! Suck it! Yeeeeaaaahhh!"

Ron ****** my head into a faster rhythm. His thick head was hitting the back of my throat and I was having a hard time with it.

"When you feel like gagging, just swallow hard to fight your reflex," Ron instructed. "Yes, that's it. Suck my big cock! Take it! Take it!" He grunted. "Aahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Reflexively I tried to pull away as he began shooting his hot, thick cum into my mouth, but he held me down, ******* me to take it. I wouldn't swallow it, so it gushed from the corners of my mouth in abundance.

"Keep sucking, bitch! Milk me!" Ron growled, ******* me to continue bobbing up and down on his dick as his jizz leaked out of my mouth. When he finished with one last violent thrust into my mouth, he relaxed, releasing his grip on my head.

I flung myself back on the bed gasping for air, cringing as I reluctantly swallowed a few remnants of his sperm, then wiped the rest from my mouth and chin.

Ron lay beside me, smiling contentedly. "You learn much faster than most men who've I had to teach," he complimented.

"Thank you, sir," I gulped, cringing, disgusted with myself, but still hoping to get the rest of the story on DD. "So what happened with Kane?"

"Kane? Right. He fucked her. Fucked her real good. The best sex she's ever had," Ron rolled onto his side to face me. "She was giddy as a school girl after their first time. Long story short, he's had exclusive rights to her pussy since then, except for you of course. He's been banging your wife for the last two months, and quite frequently at that."

"So there hasn't been anyone else but those four?"

"Uh...some guy who works at a gas station, I think I recall, but that's irrelevant. DD is infatuated with Kane's cock. They fuck once, sometimes twice a day. He bangs her on her lunch break, and occasionally after work. And she sneaks out on the weekends just to get some too. Next time she tells you she's going shopping on a Saturday, know that she is going to go get her pussy stuffed. This could be bad for you," Ron looked genuinely concerned.

I nodded, my eyes searching the room looking for nothing in particular. "What do I do? Confront her?"

"Nooooo! If you do that she'll know exactly who you found out from. She's very concerned about keeping her secrecy. She's worried all the time about you finding out. No one knows about this affair, not even her friends, only me. So you can never let on that you know. Got it?"

"I got it. But if she's worried about keeping it a secret, then she still cares about our marriage, right?"

"The thing is, she's been complaining a lot about Kane lately."

"That's good right? She's getting tired of him, ready to move on?"

"How clueless are you? You don't complain about someone you're fucking, unless you care. She's worried that he might be fucking another woman. She's jealous. She complains about other things too, like how he doesn't answer his phone sometimes when she calls, or how he was in a bad mood and got short with her. It's starting to become more than just about sex, get it?

"And if she's not complaining about how indifferent he's acting towards her, she's whining about how he's become controlling and trying to make her stay out with him later than she's supposed too. Telling her to leave you, telling her to spend the night and make up ridiculous lies to explain where she's been. Like I said, other men are going to try to make her theirs, and not just her little snatch either."

I felt my stomach turn in a knot. "So what do I do if I can't confront her?"

Ron smiled, "Lucky for you, I'm going to take care of situation. Once I step into the picture, Kane is history, rest assured."

"Well when are you going to do that?"

"Soon."

"Soon? Ron, sir, what if you're too late?" I pleaded. "I can't lose her!"

"Take it easy. There's no guarantee that he'd make off with your woman even if I didn't intervene. I'm just saying it's something to be aware of. You want to be extra careful right now, don't do anything to piss her off. When I'm ready, I'll step in. In the meantime, you just do whatever I tell you to do. We'll get rid of Kane."

"I'd feel better if you stepped in now. I mean, fuck, I just sucked your fucking cock! What about your end of the deal!" I whined.

Ron sat up, yelling, "You think I have nothing better to do than deal with this? I'll step in when I'm damn good and ready! It's your own fault it's taken this long in the first place! For all I know you're going to go jerk off and have one of your delusional moments of clarity and try to call the whole thing off! I am not going to have my time wasted. I want to see obedience and commitment from you. Until then, Kane can keep on taxing her whore cunt!"

"But," I was lost for words. I'd gone from being scared of what would happen if he did screw DD, to what would happen if he didn't.

"Get dressed, and go home. I'll call you tomorrow," Ron said, coldly.

Part 6 – The Battle Against Reality

"Honey? Honey? Are you awake?"

I cracked my eyes slightly, but pretended to still be a*****. DD was wearing red thong panties and a matching bra, checking herself in the mirror atop the dresser. She looked over her shoulder one more time to make sure I was still ********, then picked up and pointed her cell phone at the mirror to snap a picture. I knew exactly who she was sending it to.

I had morning wood, typical. The sight of her scantily clad body only made it worse. Knowing that Ron would soon be enjoying the sight of my wife's body heightened my arousal. And knowing that a stranger named Kane would be fucking her in a few hours stiffened my erection to a painful state.

But knowing she might have feelings for Kane made my stomach turn. And knowing what I'd done with Ron the night before made my face flush. Then I was suddenly mortified to realize that under the covers, I was still wearing her panties!

When I'd returned home from the meet up with Ron, I'd laid there a long a time watching her ***** beside me, the battle between my fantasy and my conflicted emotions raging on through the night. Somehow I'd dozed off and forgotten what I was wearing.

I clutched the covers tightly in case she tried to yank them off of me as she sometimes did when she woke me in the mornings.

"Honey? It's time to get up," DD said, pulling a sweater over her head. She stepped into her grey, below-the-knee length skirt and came to my side of the bed. "Wake up, Tony. You're going to be late," she said, shaking me.

"I'm, uh, I'm taking a sick day. I don't feel good," I said, holding onto the covers for dear life.

DD put her hands on her hips and gave me a concerned look. "Well I hope it's a paid sick day. We can't afford for you to miss work! What's wrong with you anyway?"

"Nothing, my stomach. I'll be ok, just need to rest."

DD sighed. "I bet it's that flu going around." She paused for a long time as if pondering something. "Maybe I'll stay at my ******* tonight. I don't wanna get sick too. I don't have any sick days left. What do you think?"

I think you want to spend the night with Kane, I thought to myself. Her parents hated me, mainly because I wasn't Cambodian. Snubbing her first marriage that they'd arranged was a slap in the face to them, and they saw me as the culprit, as if I'd corrupted her in some way. She knew I'd never call over there to check on her story. "Yeah, better not get you sick too."

DD smiled big then quickly wiped it off her face. "Awwww, my poor baby. Get some rest. I'll call you later to check on you."

"DD," I grabbed her hand, "I love you. More than anything. You know that right?"

My wife stared at me blankly a moment, then her eyes began to water. "I love you too," her voice cracked when she spoke. She quickly turned away from me and rubbed her sleeve across her face. "Call you later," she said, making a quick exit from the room.

I rolled onto my stomach and tried to think of anything other than DD. My urge to masturbate at that moment was an overwhelming, shivering, shaking, feverish feeling, like an addict in withdrawal. I hadn't done it since the previous day before she'd come home, and I was deliberately avoiding it.

It was those blasted moments of clarity that came after an orgasm that scared me. I didn't want to face those feelings. Now more than ever, I imagined the guilt and shame that would come over me once my mind was unclouded by my perversions. Only now I'd have to face the fact that I couldn't turn the reality back into just a fantasy. I wasn't sure I could handle that.

I thought of disgusting things like steaming piles of horse manure, and senior citizens in the nude, anything repulsive enough to shrink my erection. It worked.

Too distracted by my problems to be productive, I called in sick to work anyway. I spent the next few hours searching for distractions, TV, cooking, cleaning up the house, anything to avoid the lucid mental pictures of DD with another man's cock in her mouth, or of Ron's in mine. Somehow, everything I did found a way to remind me. It was no use.

I logged on to the computer, preparing to rub out an orgasm and face the music, when I got a text message from Ron on my cell phone.

U r not really sick r u?

"DD already told him," I thought out loud. No, I replied.

Well Kane will be happy. Now he gets to spend the night fucking DD's brains out. Ron returned my text.

I know. I knew what she planning when she said she was going to her *******.

Trying to make it easy for him? U r a fool. A lot could happen and I don't mean sex.

Don't remind me. I fucked up, I replied.

I'll find a way to fix it. U owe me.

Thank you.

Thank you, SIR? Ron reminded me of his dominance.

Thank you sir.

Are you wearing panties like a good little sissy?

Yes, I lied. I'd long since taken them off.

Show me. Send me a picture.

"Fuck!" I jumped out of my seat and raced into the bedroom to dig through DD's panty drawer.

As I slid into a pair of my wife's lacy, white panties, I became keenly aware of the fact that there was no way out of doing it on a daily basis. There was no telling if Ron was going to check for proof at any given time.

I sent him the requested picture and got a response of, Good girl. Talk 2 u later.

I tried to resume my masturbation session but now I was too distracted. How was I going to explain it if DD caught me wearing her underwear? How humiliating would that be? She already thought I was a dud in the bedroom, what would she think of me then?

Part of me wanted to tell Ron to fuck off, but I feared he had too much influence with DD. He might decide to take on a personal vendetta against me and completely destroy my marriage if I disrespected him. Besides, this Kane character had to go, and Ron had me convinced that I needed his help for that. And on top of that, my fantasy still ruled my thoughts.

Who was this man named Kane who was about to spend the night with my wife? I decided to find out. I threw some clothes on, hopped in my car and headed to DD's job.

I arrived fifteen minutes before DD's scheduled lunch hour. I parked across the street from her building where I could see the employee entrance. If they really were fucking on their lunch breaks, surely they'd have to go somewhere else to do it.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later I caught sight of my wife exiting the building with a large group of people. She seemed to be sticking close to one man in particular, a tall, mid thirties looking guy with dark hair.

"Huh," I muttered, remembering what Ron had said about her being attracted to men who were similar in appearance to me. I found it flattering, at least I knew she found me attractive if nothing else.

She stood talking to him for a while in front of her grey Chevy Malibu, shivering in the cold. Then he got into another vehicle and she got into hers. I expected her to follow him when he pulled away, but she didn't. She pulled up in front of the employee entrance and stopped.

Suddenly a tall, black man emerged from the building. He swung his head around every which way as if watching out for something, and then quickly hopped into DD's car and she sped away urgently.

"You have to be shitting me!" I wailed. I peeled out of the parking lot and gave chase, making sure I stayed far enough back not to be spotted by her. DD was really flying down the road in an incredible hurry. She never drove like that, especially on the slippery winter roads.

You didn't tell me Kane was black! I sent a text to Ron.

DD pulled into the parking lot of the Extended Stay hotel down the street from her job. I pulled into the parking lot of the Greek restaurant adjacent to it and watched them get out of the car together. Kane's hand planted firmly on my wife's ass as they walked into the hotel.

Ron's reply finally came through. Why does that matter? And why r u spying on your wife? Think about what happens if she catches u.

"What happens if she catches me?" I gasped. "She's the one in a hotel room with a black guy!" But I knew what he'd meant. She wasn't supposed to know I knew about this.

I sat in the car contemplating my next move. Sitting outside was pointless. Why had I even come, just to see what he looked like? Did it really matter? I supposed it didn't. The supposed myth of the big black cock was ever present in my mind though.

My cock stretched DD's panties as I sat there imagining her taking Kane's big cock in her furry cunt, making her scream and moan. This was my fantasy after all, my wife being a slut for another man, a black guy no less. It just wasn't happening how I imagined it...I wasn't there enjoying it.

Without thinking, I exited the car and walked towards the hotel. It was like my penis was leading the way, silencing the pleas of my brain to turn around.

I asked the twenty something kid working the front desk what room the black and Asian couple had checked into, setting a twenty-dollar bill on the counter at the same time. He looked at it and told me he couldn't relinquish that information. I pulled out another twenty.

"Three nineteen. I always give them three nineteen," he replied with a grin. "Damn, that little Asian chick really gets around. Any chance I can get in on it?"

"She's a real whore, ain't she?" I said, smiling as if I wasn't bothered at all by his comment.

"That's why I always give her a corner room, less noise complaints that way," he chuckled. "Man, I'd like to get a piece of that. I didn't know the black dude was into passing her around."

"She always come here with him? Has she ever come here with someone else? How often do they come here?" I couldn't repress my need to know.

"Every single...oh, *****" he cracked a big smile as he stared at my wedding band. "You're the husband, aren't you?"

I didn't respond.

"Man, I knew she wasn't married to him. I noticed she had a ring the first time she came in, but he never wore one. Aw, man, sorry dude. I'd kick a guys ass too if that was my girlfriend. I'd fuckin' kick her ass too! Man, it's cool. Do what you gotta do. I won't call the cops, I swear man!"

"Don't worry, there wont be any trouble," I said, walking away.

"Oh, it's like that? You're one of those guys that likes that ****? Well, hey, man! What's up? Can I get some too?" He shouted after me as I headed for the elevator.

Another text from Ron rang in while in the elevator. So u r sitting in the parking lot of the extended stay in Lombard right now aren't u. why? what is that doing for u?

I replied, I'm in the hotel.

As soon as the elevator door opened on the third floor I could hear the faint moans of DD's ecstasy. As I nervously proceeded towards the room, they grew louder. The feeling was surreal, knowing that she'd never even come close to reaching that tone with me, but now another man's cock was driving her wild, past the point of inhibition.

Another text from Ron distracted me, listening in? u have more balls than I thought. How does it feel to hear your wife scream in pleasure from another mans big cock?

"Oh Kane! Oh god! Fuck me Kane! Yes! Yes! Give me that big cock!" DD's voice bellowed through the door. During the moments of silence I could hear the bed squeaking violently.

I put the phone in my pocket and ignored Ron. I was stroking myself through my jeans as I stood outside their door, listening.

"Yeah, you like this black dick baby? You don't get this at home do you? Huh? Huh?"

"Mmmmm yes I love it! Talk dirty to me, Kane! I'm a bad girl!" DD moaned.

"Yeah, you're a little slut for this black dick, ain't you bitch!'

"Yes baby! I'm your slut! Fuck your little slut's tight pussy, Kane!"

"Who's fuckin' pussy is this, bitch?" Kane's voice was followed by a loud smack.

"It's your pussy, daddy!"

I was shaking badly, a mess of emotions spinning my head, but still intently focused on the action, rubbing my dick through my jeans, praying no one entered the hallway.

"I'm gonna stretch that pussy all night long, slut! Ain't I?"

"Yes, daddy!"

I heard another loud smack, "Ain't I!"

"Yes, daddy!" DD hit a higher pitch. "Oh god I'm cummmmmmmiiiiing! Don't stop!"

"Cum on this black dick, bitch! You ain't done! Turn over, slut!"

I was getting ready to cum in my pants in unison with her when my phone rang, causing me to jump back from the door. I hurriedly shuffled down the hallway with a stiff leg, trying frantically to dig my phone out of my pocket and silence it before they heard it.

"Hello!" I yelled in a whispery voice as I ducked around the corner by the elevator.

"Get out of there, Tony," Ron said. "You'll have plenty of time to hear her moan in the weeks, months, and years to come. You're a cuckold now. Now and forever."

"I, uh," I fumbled my words, as I processed 'cuckold - now and forever'. "Ok, I'll leave." I had no intention of leaving.

"I want you at my office in twenty minutes. I'll text you the address. If you're even one minute late, you're going to regret it. Leave now." Ron hung up.

"Damn it!" I rested my head back against the wall. I could still hear DD getting fucked. I didn't want to, but I knew I had to leave.

I had a perpetual hard on all the way to Ron's office. The only thing distracting me from rubbing my dick the whole way, was having to weave in and out of traffic just to get there in time. I had no idea how he would make me regret being late, but I didn't want to find out.

I speed walked from my car into his office looking at my watch, I had one minute. I took the stairs rather than the elevator to save time, and made it to the reception desk where she paged him, with little to spare.

I made note of how she addressed him as 'Mr. Rossi.' It occurred to me that the name on the marquis near the entrance was Rossi and Associates, LLC.

"Ah, Mr. Mc' Kibben, just in time. Follow me," Ron greeted me in a professional manner.

Dressed in what appeared to be a very expensive business suit, Ron looked every bit as powerful as he acted. I felt relieved to know that he was a successful professional and not just some perverted loser who lived in his ******** basement. Not that I'd ever thought he'd be anything less, but now I saw the proof. Suddenly all of his promises seemed more real.

We went into his office and he locked the door behind us.

"A half hour drive, in twenty minutes," I said, a bit irritably. "That wasn't fair."

"And it isn't fair that you only have half of a dick," Ron said, coldly, "But such is life. Strip for me. Let's see those panties."

I looked over my shoulder at the door.

"No one will be coming in. Now hurry up, I have things to do. Strip, bitch."

"Yes sir," I submitted easily, shedding my clothes until I had on only DD's panties.

"Very good," Ron circled around me, looking me up and down. "There's room for improvement, but it won't be hard at all."

"What won't be hard?" I asked, my head hung down.

"Bend over my desk," Ron shoved me in the back, ignoring my question. "It seems DD has her little heart set on getting stuffed with Kane's cock all night long, so I didn't bother to try talking her out of spending the night. But I'm going to look at this as an opportunity, rather than a set back."

"How so?" I asked, getting goose bumps as he ran his hands down my back to my ass.

"You were a bad girl following her to that hotel, Tony," Ron said, smacking me hard on the ass. "Or should I call you Tonya? Yes, I like that better. I'll call you Tonya." Ron spanked me again.

"I'm...I'm sorry sir," I sheepishly replied. I was becoming aroused as I felt his power over me, and I didn't know why.

Ron laughed. "Not a submissive? Did you try to convince me of that last night? What a joke." Three more strikes from his hand in quick succession stung my panty covered ass. "You are very submissive, aren't you Tonya?"

"Yes sir," I answered, my stiff dick poking out the top of the panties.

"You're getting turned on by this. Are you sure you aren't gay? That would explain why you can't please your wife."

"Yes sir, I'm sure."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I'm not attracted to men. I love women," I said, feeling my cock pulse as he slapped my ass again.

"So then it must be the act of ********** that floats your boat, ey?"

"I don't know."

"I do. A very submissive, bi sexual."

"I'm not..."

"Shut up, Tonya," he slapped my reddened ass again. "You are. You sucked my cock last night. And you liked it didn't you?"

I swallowed hard. "I, I didn't hate it."

"You didn't hate it, and you hate that you didn't hate it, don't you?"

"Sir?"

"A straight man doesn't suck cock. And if he were ****** to he would be repulsed by it. He would hate it. But you didn't hate it. That must bother you. You have to admit to yourself that you are bi sexual. You like cock, sissy girl," Ron cackled. "Say it. Tell me you like my cock."

I heard his zipper go down, then felt his thick, swollen dick being slapped against my ass. I cursed my own feelings as I became even more aroused. I didn't want to say it. Saying it made it more real. I couldn't be that way!

"Ashamed? Whether you admit it or not, you still liked sucking my cock. That isn't going to go away, your thoughts will haunt you. Own up to it. Own your sexuality my little cocksucker, don't let it own you."

"I liked sucking your cock!" I blurted out, amazed at my own words.

"Good!" Ron jubilantly exclaimed. "That wasn't so hard! It's easier to deal with the things we admit to ourselves than those we deny, isn't it? Now get on your knees and tell me again."

I turned around and sank to my knees where Ron's stiff cock met me in the face. "I liked sucking your cock," I said, easier this time, as I leaned into it, letting it touch my lips.

"Oh, you want to suck it again, bitch? Just say please."

"Please let me suck your cock," I pleaded. I was so ready for it that I didn't have time to feel ashamed for wanting to, I just wanted to. Ron knew every one of my dirty secrets, and I felt like he saw me for what I was better than I did. I liked the feeling of not having to hide.

"That's a good girl, suck on my big dick, Tonya," he said as he pushed deep into my mouth.

I eagerly opened my mouth for his huge dick. Warm, pulsing, stiff, I sucked on it hungrily, forgetting the labels and judgments that I shamed myself with. My mind was numb from the events of the past twenty-four hours and I was tired of thinking, worrying, fighting against myself. I'd discovered something new that I liked and I just wanted to enjoy myself for once, without the guilt.

I wanted to suck his cock.

"Oh fuck, Tonya. It's so much better when you put your heart in it. You are a natural cocksucker. Ohhhhh yeees, keep going, just like that. I'm gonna give you a present," Ron groaned, holding a fist full of my hair as he pushed himself in and out of my mouth.

Ron wasn't gentle but I didn't care. I remembered his lesson from the night before, swallow hard when you want to gag, and so I did. I let him gag me with his oversized pole and I sucked him harder.

I looked up and stared into his eyes as he fed me his meat. On my knees with his dick thrusting into my mouth I'd never felt so completely under the control of another person. Maybe he was right, maybe it was the act of ********** that got me going.

I'd never looked at a man in a sexual way. I'd masturbated to gay porn, but never found myself attracted to the men in the videos. I was only turned on by the act. The same was true now. Even as I passionately slurped on his long pole, I didn't look at Ron the way I looked at my wife or another sexy woman. Yet here I was, hungry for his big dick. Was I bisexual, or was it something else? Stop thinking, I told myself. Suck that cock.
"Play with your little dick, sissy girl. Get off while you suck my dick!" Ron ordered.

DD's panties hung around my tightening balls and as I stroked myself. I'd never gone so long without masturbating before, so I knew it would be quick.

I felt him tensing. I wanted him to cum before me. I sucked harder, faster, I wanted to drain him. "Uuuggghhh!" I wailed as I began shooting my massive load all over my knees.

"Oh no you don't!" He grabbed my head with both hands and began fucking my mouth.

I was still coming down from my own orgasm, my lust for his cock fading, but I didn't resist. I let him fuck my mouth until he unloaded, gagging as I ************* swallowed his cum.

When he finished, he leaned back against his desk, a satisfied look on his face. "I hope DD sucks cock as good as you. Maybe Kane will teach her some new tricks tonight," Ron joked.

The mental clarity I'd avoided was now consuming me; the guilt, the shame, I didn't find it funny. Still, there was less regret in me than usual. My mind was adapting to this new reality. A twinge of disgust hit me as I wiped his cum from the corners of my mouth. I still didn't regret it. I sucked a cock and liked it, no big deal, I told myself. More so than anything, I worried about where things were heading.

"You need to go home now and do something for me," Ron said. "I want you to shave."

I ran my fingers across my face. "I shaved this morning," I informed him.

"Not there. Everywhere else," Ron said.

"My balls?"

"What part of everywhere don't you understand? Your legs, your pubes, and anywhere else there's hair on your body. It won't be hard. You don't have much hair anywhere else."

"How am I supposed to explain that to DD? You know, we do still have sex sometimes, even if it's not good sex. She's gonna wonder," I said, adjusting my dick back into my wife's panties. "And how am I going to explain my new choice of underwear to her?"

"Tell the truth. That you're a sissy girl who likes to wear panties, and you shave to feel more like the woman you are," Ron thoughtlessly suggested.

"That's not the truth!"

"Yes it is. It's a truth you haven't fully grown into yet, but still the truth. Besides, it's important for her to see you in this way. It alleviates the guilt for her of wanting to fuck other men. If you're not a man, then she has a much more valid excuse, don't you see?"

"That's fucking ridiculous, Ron! Do you realize how you sound!?" I whined.

"Do you realize how you sound? Who is in charge here, sissy girl? Are there things I need to remind you of?" Ron pointed a warning finger at me.

"I'm sorry," I hung my head, not feeling sorry, but knowing I was better off not to cross him.

"She already knows you like to wear panties. I told her," Ron sat back, pushing his cock back into his pants and zipping up.

"Ron, sir, I never wore women's underwear a day in my life before yesterday. Why would you tell her that?"

"Because you're going to wear them every day forward. I knew this day would come, Tonya. I even told her about how your old friends would call you Tonya, because you were so feminine. I was laying plans for this long before we met last night," Ron chuckled. "Always a step ahead of things. That's how I achieve success in everything I do."

"Let me get this straight. You were telling her lies about me before I even agreed to go along with any of this? What if I hadn't wanted this? She's been going around thinking I'm some kind of fag! What the hell!" I started picking up my clothes and getting dressed.

"They weren't lies, they were more like premonitions. I know you better than you know yourself. You deny what you are, that's why you spend your life running in circles, never getting anywhere. I'm helping you keep on the path. What's done is done. It doesn't matter now. The point is, it's taking you where you want to go."

"By humiliating me in front of my wife?" I steamed.

"Oh, I think you knew this was part of the game when you decided to deal with me. You're my number one fan, remember? You know how all my stories go. Besides, it's only humiliating if you choose not to accept it yourself. No one can embarrass you, unless you let yourself feel embarrassed," Ron said, calmly.

"Well I'm fucking embarrassed! Happy!" I broke my pant's zipper as I yanked on it too hard.

"But why? Whether it was true or not when I told her, she's had the knowledge that you were into feminizing for quite a while now, but has she treated you any differently?"

"No. But she hasn't seen it with her own eyes," I reminded him.

"That'll only be a reaffirmation of what she already knows. You know California has Palm Trees, even if you've never been there. You don't get shocked when you finally see them. And believe me, she didn't doubt me for a second when I told her. I think she sees it in you too."

"But that's," I stopped, realizing the futility of the argument. Did my wife really believe those things about me? Did I project that kind of an image? A sissy?

"Go home and shave. I'm going to call your house phone later. You'd better answer," Ron warned, opening the door to his office. "Thanks for stopping by, Mr. Mc' Kibben, have a pleasant day."

I walked out of his office as quickly as I could without seeming pissed off, even faking a smile at the receptionist as I walked out the door.

I drove home in silence, no music, only my own thoughts. Ron was right about one thing, I had been running in circles most of my life. I knew what I wanted, mostly, but never went after it. Now Ron was ******* me to do just that. But this was on his terms, not my own.

DD was already fucking someone else whether I liked it or not. I hadn't set the fantasy in motion on my own, but I wanted to reign it back in to something I could control, something I was a part of. I needed Ron for that, or at least I thought I did.

In spite of how I felt, I couldn't ignore that my life had suddenly become more exciting than it had ever been. I decided to ignore my fear and see how things played out.

As I pulled into my driveway I saw Ben, my married neighbor who'd fucked my wife, outside shoveling his driveway. I sat in the car for a moment, staring at Ben in my rear view. Everything about this guy bothered me, right down to the shape of his head.

I got out of the car and headed towards him. He saw me coming but kept on shoveling as if nothing was wrong. I kept an easy pace and avoided scowling so as not to give away my intentions.

As I stopped in front of him, he leaned against his shovel, a cocky smirk on his face. "Still driving that piece of ****, huh?"

I snatched the shovel out of his hand and swung it at his head.

Ben tried to duck and caught it on the top of his head, sending him falling back against his garage with a loud thud.

"You think you can just fuck my wife and get away with it ************! Huh! What do you think I am, some kind of sissy faggot!? You think I suck cock!? I'm a real man! I'll crack your fucking head open if you ever come near her again!" I taunted him, screaming at the top of my lungs.
"Fuck you!" Ben indignantly spat. "Your wife's a fucking whore. You think I'm the only one in this neighborhood that's screwed your little fortune cookie?"

"What! Who!" I demanded to know. **** of a...ahhhh!" I cried out as Ben kicked me in the knee and dropped me to the ground.

I tried to get up but Ben was on top of me before I knew it, his hands around my neck. "You know what I think? You are a faggot! That's why you can't control your cunt wife! You ever come on my property again I'll crack your fucking head open!"

Ben got off of me and gave me a kick in the ribs for good measure as I tried to get up. Hunched over, I hurried back across the street to my home, crying like a little kid.

My pride was shattered.

Part 7 - The Transformation

I was applying bandages to several cuts on my legs that I'd gotten while shaving them, when the phone rang.

It was Ron. He told me to expect company within the hour. Before I could get him to explain, he hung up.

I went back to the bathroom and examined my now hairless body. My dick looked bigger now that it wasn't half covered by a hairy bush. "Honey, I shaved so I can look better in your panties. Oh, and by the way, I like sucking dick," I mocked myself explaining the change to DD.

I went into DD's underwear drawer to find a pair of panties to wear before Ron arrived. A turquoise thong was my selection. I marveled at how good the silky fabric felt against my smooth skin as I slid them on. And when I looked in the mirror I was surprised at how good I looked in them. With all of that hair gone, it wasn't such a hideous sight.

"This is so pathetic," I shamefully shook my head. "My wife is in a cheap motel somewhere getting stuffed full of black cock and I'm at home alone trying on her underwear."

I always felt sorry for the poor cuckolded bastards in Ron's stories. That was a big reason why I'd resigned the idea to remaining a fantasy – I didn't want to wind up feeling sorry for myself. Yet here I was, realizing the sad state of myself, but not feeling entirely as remorseful as I thought I should have.

When I closed my eyes I visualized my wife's naked body being mauled and used by her black lover and it pleased me. I'd given up resistance to my fantasy if for no other reason than sheer mental exhaustion from fighting it. Since I had no control over the situation anymore, it was easier to accept her deriving sexual pleasure at the hands of another man as a mutually gratifying experience for both of us.

Likewise, my resistance to Ron's dominance had waned. If I was the submissive he said I was, than so be it. I looked forward to his arrival, knowing I'd find myself once again on my knees, servicing his big cock with my mouth. Giving into it was so much easier than fighting it. No more fighting, just giving in. Let the cards fall where they may.

But then there were things nagging at my conscience. What was Kane doing with my wife when he wasn't fucking her? Holding her? Caressing her? Telling her sweet things? I didn't want to think about things like that, they devastated me, so I ignored them.

Looking at myself in the mirror was a chore. There stood a helpless man, if he was indeed still a man at all. Certainly he wasn't enough of a man to please his wife sexually, and not enough of one to defend her honor against the douche bag neighbor. He wore panties and he sucked the cock of a man who sought his wife as a sexual conquest. What man did those things? I didn't like thinking about those things either, so I didn't. It's ok, Tonya, you don't have to pretend to be the man you're not.

When the doorbell rang I threw on DD's fuzzy pink bathrobe to cover my near nudity before going to open the door. I couldn't wait to have my mouth filled with his cock again.

"Hello, Tonya."

I froze, stunned, as I took in the sight of a total stranger at my door.

"I'm a friend of Ron's," she said, stepping into my home without invitation.

"Oh, I, I thought Ron was coming. I wasn't expecting, um," I shut the door behind her.

"Charlotte," the red headed woman said, dropping the duffle bag from her shoulder and removing her long winter coat. "Hang my coat for me."

I stared at her blankly as I draped her coat over a hanger in the entry closet. Charlotte wore nothing but lingerie under her coat!

"I take it by that stupid look on your face that you like what you see," Charlotte said, gracefully tracing the contours of her body with her finger tips, inviting my eyes.

She was a slender woman only a few inches shorter than me in her high heels. Black thigh-high fishnets clung to her skinny legs and a long twisting serpent tattoo was visible underneath on her left thigh. Her hot pink thong outlined her camel toe and a dangling piece of jewelry hung from her flat, toned belly. A full sleeve of tattoos covered one arm, the other was nothing but pure, milky, alabaster skin. A cup less pink bra left her apple-sized tits hanging out, her nipples covered by dangly black tassels.

"Yes, I just, well, you're...wow...beautiful and, um, this is a total surprise to me is all, I um, I'm Tony," I felt my face reddening as I became keenly aware of what I was wearing. Having a sexy woman see me this way was utterly humiliating.

"Tony?" she smirked. "Don't you mean Tonya?"

I got a lump in my throat as my *********** heightened. "Um, Ron calls me that, I guess."

Charlotte laughed wickedly, "Awww, I bet you were looking forward to sucking his cock, weren't you?"

I said nothing, swallowing hard.

"Answer me when I ask you a question!" Charlotte demanded. "Are you embarrassed?"

I nodded. "This is, um, embarrassing, Charlotte."

"Don't be. He told me all about you, sissy girl. But we can have some fun too, can't we? I like girls like you, Tonya," Charlotte sported a wicked smile.

"Well I, uh, you do?"

She gave me the coyest of expressions, "You wanna fuck me? I bet you'd like that, huh?"

"I'm a, I'm married and everything, so I guess, maybe, I probably shouldn't," I stumbled over my words, my stiffening cock answering the question for me.

"But your wife is a whore isn't she? Isn't she somewhere getting pumped full of black cock right now? How come she gets to have all the fun, huh?" Charlotte lifted one of her breasts with her hand and crimped her neck to lick around the tassel.

I shrugged, staring in awe of her.

"So you really don't wanna fuck me?" Charlotte leaned in close, nuzzling her nose next to my ear, her sweet perfume invading my nostrils. "I know you have a pathetic little cock, but I'm a naughty little whore so I'm not picky," she whispered, untying my robe.

"This isn't happening," I breathed hard, "This stuff doesn't happen to me."

"It does when you have a powerful friend," she nibbled on my ear lobe, while reaching into my panties and squeezing my hard dick. "You can thank Ron later. So, would you like to fuck me?"

"Yesssssss," I breathed, feeling the testosterone coursing through my veins, feeling like a real man again in spite of myself. Me Tarzan, you Jane, my ****** instincts screamed.

"Tell me how bad you want me," she purred, kissing my neck, her tassels tickling my chest. .

"Very bad," I gulped.

"That's not very convincing," she said, pulling away from me. "If you really want my hot, tight, wet, pussy, you'll have to earn it. Are you willing to earn it, Tonya?"

I nodded before rolling my head back as she continued to stroke my cock, the name 'Tonya' striking a blow to my fragile feeling of manhood.

"You call this a cock?" she giggled, slapping my hard dick, making me jump, "I think it's a joke. You're going to really have to be a good girl if I'm going to give you any pleasure. I'm in charge here, understand?"

"Yes," I said, falling back into my submissive role, my Tarzan alter ego getting the wind knocked out of him by the ***********.

"You're gonna be my little bitch tonight, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm your little bitch," I said, half-enthusiastically.

Charlotte smiled, cupping her breasts in both hands. "Boy, you're easy. You deserve a treat. Bite my tassel."

"Bite it?"

"Bite it, sissy," she grabbed my head and pulled me to her breast. "Get those off of there so I can show you my pretty tits."

I grabbed her dangling tassel between my teeth and tugged it off, exposing her tiny, erect, pink nipple. I repeated with the other tassel, reveling in the sight of her soft, perky breasts.

"Mmmmm, that's much better, don't you think?" Charlotte said, massaging her nipples into an even more erect state. "Do you like my pretty little titties?"

"Oh yes!" I failed to play it cool, my eyes bulging. I hadn't seen a pair of naked tits live and in the flesh in months, and none other than DD's in years.

"Show me how much!" she said, ********** pulling my head into her breasts. "Worship them!"

I hungrily devoured her tit, sucking on it like I wanted to pull it off.

"Oh my, that's terrible!" she put her hand on my forehead and pushed me back. "Do you think a woman wants you eating her tits? The point is to make her feel good. Try again."

I suckled her breast into my mouth more gently this time.

"Yes, that's it. Suck harder now, and flick your tongue against my nipple," Charlotte instructed. "Oh yes, that's good, you just need a little training don't you? Do the other one now."

I left her left nipple hard and pointing as I moved to the other, following the same instructions as she slowly tugged on my throbbing cock.

"Mmmm, that's enough for you," she gripped a fist full of my hair and yanked my head back. "Now, get on your knees, bitch." Charlotte lightly slapped my face and pushed down on my head.

I went to my knees with my hair still in her clutches. She asked where the main bathroom was then walked me there on my hands and knees, never letting go of my hair, commenting on what a "dump" my house was. She instructed me to sit on the toilet seat while she pillaged through DD's make up case.

"I'm going to make you a pretty girl, Tonya," Charlotte cheerfully exclaimed as she produced a bottle of eyeliner. "Hold still."

Charlotte hummed and swung her hips as if dancing to her own song as she applied make up to my face, seeming amused with her new toy. "You're going to look so much hotter than my husband ever did in drag. You have such girly features," she commented.

Husband? I thought. She does this to her husband too? Was he also a...holy ****! My mind finally put the pieces together. "Charlotte!" I blurted out without meaning too.

"What?"

"Uh, nothing, sorry, I just thought you were going to poke my eye with that mascara," I lied.

"Relax, I've done this lots of times to my little sissy girl at home," she giggled.

I remembered the night I'd met Ron, how he'd talked about passing around a twenty something redhead with 'nice tits' between he and his friends with her husband on speakerphone. I now knew who that redhead was! I shuddered as I thought of DD being used in the same manner. But that wasn't all.

Until now it hadn't occurred to me, but Charlotte was the central character in one of his Literotica stories – and the vivid description he gave of that character matched her to the letter! He hadn't even changed her name! Fiction writer my ass, his stories were real!

One of the reasons I'd loved them so much was that in spite of the crazy and unthinkable circumstances the characters were always in, they always seemed so incredibly realistic. Even as he took his fictional liberties by writing from the point of view of the cuckolded husband, which he certainly was not, the characters emotions and thoughts resonated with me well.

Ron certainly understood the motivations of men like me, that was for sure, and his claim that he knew me better than I knew I myself suddenly had a lot of credibility. Would he one day be writing a true story about me and DD, expressing my thoughts and feelings in ways I couldn't?

I sat there quietly, realizing Ron's plans for me. Making me wear panties, calling me Tonya, making me shave, now he had this woman was putting make up on me. Ron was trying to take away every sign of my masculinity, but why?

I thought about the stories he wrote in which the cuckolded husband was always humiliated and often ****** into bisexual acts with the bull, even occasionally ****** to wear women's underwear, but this was going farther than anything he'd ever written.

I couldn't help but wonder if he planned on taking other things further to? Was his level of kink and perversion progressing in the same way mine always did? If so, then I couldn't lean on his stories as a guide for what to expect, I was traveling into the unknown. I didn't fear as much for what he had in store for me, as I did for what it might mean for DD.

The women in his stories were used hard, often degraded and put in situations even more humiliating than those of the husbands. In his writing, the women always enjoyed it, but I wondered if he knew the complexities of the female's minds as well as he did their husbands. If he did, and he truly had DD figured out the way he thought, then I wasn't sure how well I knew my wife at all. If he didn't, this could be a disaster.

"Well look at you!" Charlotte giggled, "Such a pretty little bitch!" She flashed a handheld mirror in front of me.

I couldn't believe my eyes. After applying nail polish, lipstick, eyeliner, mascara and eye shadow, I was unrecognizable. If I didn't know better I would have thought I was staring at a woman! The fact that my face passed so well for the opposite sex made me feel even less masculine than I already did, which wasn't much to begin with.

"I would curl your hair too and make you real pretty but it's just going to get messed up anyway," Charlotte couldn't wipe the smile from her face. "Come on bitch, let's find you something sexy to wear."

Again I was lead around by my hair on my hands and knees into the bedroom where she left me sitting on the floor while she rummaged through DD's dresser drawers.

"Hmmph, your wife seems pretty conservative if her underwear is any indication. Not at all the way Ron described her. Has this woman ever been to Frederick's in her life?" Charlotte laughed, staring at a very plain pair of cotton panties.

"She only has a handful of things that I'd call sexy. She doesn't really try that hard to be sexy. She's never needed too," I said.

"Awww, that's sweet," Charlotte said, leaving the dresser to search through the closet. "But I have different information from our friend. She may not try for you, but she is trying for someone, now isn't she?" Charlotte sounded colder, as if she wanted it to hurt.

"Can I ask you a question, Charlotte?"

"I guess," she answered from inside the closet.

"Have you ever read Ron's stories?"

"Sure."

"Have you read the one about you and your husband?"

Charlotte giggled, "Yeah, a few times."

"Is it all true?"

"Kind of, mostly, yeah, I guess."

"Really? You come across like a heartless bitch in that story, but you don't seem that bad," I noted Charlotte had barely stopped smiling or giggling the entire time she was there. "But it's all true, huh? You think he portrayed your husband accurately too?"

"Oh, I'm not heartless. Everything that he said happened did happen. And I guess my husband is like that now, maybe not when he wrote it though. Bingo!" Charlotte suddenly sounded cheerful.

"What do you mean not when he wrote it?" I asked.

"Ron taught my husband a lot of things he didn't know about himself. He made him come around."

"In the story your husband wanted you to ***** with other men, you're saying he didn't?"

Charlotte shrugged. "I don' know. Don't really care either. His pathetic little dick wasn't doing anything for me. I just went to get what I couldn't get at home. Then I met Ron and he convinced me to get my husband involved. He said he could make him ok with it. So of course I was like yeah, go ahead! Makes my life easier."

"And Ron did that, huh? He actually talked your husband into being ok with it?"

"Well, it's not like he had a choice! I mean, it's not like he would ever find someone as hot as me. He's fucking lucky I keep him around to give me money, take care of the house and worship at my feet," Charlotte said, with her ever present smile.

I was shocked by her coldhearted comments. "So...you don't even love him?"

Charlotte laughed, "Oh, I guess. You know, like how you love a puppy? Poor, pathetic, helpless little creatures but you can make them fetch and do tricks and stuff, you know?"

"I see." Hearing her talk about her husband like a pet made me wonder if DD could ever be that cold.

"Put these on, Tonya," Charlotte emerged from the closet and tossed several items at me.

I scanned the items, crotchless pink panties, a see through pink chemise, and a pair of pink thigh-high stockings with an attached garter-belt. "Where did you find these?" I said, shocked. I'd never seen them before and couldn't imagine DD wearing anything like that.

"Your wife obviously doesn't want you to know so I'm not telling!" Charlotte giggled. "Now hurry up and get dressed, bitch, so we can have some fun!"

Staring at Charlotte's tits and hearing the word fun simultaneously made me stiff again. I slid the silky stockings up my legs, amazed by how wonderful they felt against my now smooth skin. I quickly discarded the panties I was wearing and pulled up the garter followed by the panties and then slithered into the chemise.

"Stand up and let me look at you, Tonya," Charlotte instructed, leaning against the wall. "Turn around---Bend over---Shake your ass a little bit---Now spank it," Charlotte giggled each time I obeyed her humiliating commands. "Now bend over the bed, bitch."

I felt Charlotte behind me, slowly running her fingernails up the back of my legs before giving me a hard smack on the ass.

"I'm gonna teach you how to please a woman like the sissy girl you are. Would you like that?"

"I guess so," I said, wearily.

"You guess so? I don't like your passive attitude, Tonya. I want an enthusiastic submissive. I'm not going to let you fuck me if you don't be a good girl. Now answer me again, do you want me to teach you how to be a good sissy for your wife?"

"Yes, please, ma'am," I replied.

"Good. Now, to thank me properly for the lesson I'm going to give you, get on your fucking knees and kiss my feet!" Charlotte yanked my head back by the hair.

I spun around and fell to my hands and knees planting kisses on her stocking clad feet, thanking her repeatedly.

"Good girl. This is how you should thank your wife everyday for staying with a sissy like you. This is also how you should greet her when she comes home. And any time you want to show her affection, always start at her feet. Understand?" Charlotte walked to the bed and sat down.

"Yes ma'am," I replied.

"And whenever she sits down, offer to rub her feet," Charlotte dangled her foot in front of my face.

"Would you like me to rub your feet?"

"Yes, Tonya, carefully remove my shoes and rub my feet---Mmmmm, that's good. Be sure to kiss them a lot while you rub them to show how much you enjoy serving her---There you go. And it's always nice if you do a little toe sucking."

"Shouldn't I take your stockings off first?" I asked as Charlotte pressed her foot against my lips.

"You don't ask questions, you just do what you're told. If she doesn't ask you to, then leave them on. Now suck my toes," Charlotte ****** them into my mouth. "Ohhhhh that's good, Tonya! I just love having a sissy girl to worship my feet. How much of my foot can fit you in your mouth?"

I wondered if Charlotte would ever get tired of having her feet worshiped. Her reactions to it were orgasmic. Her pale skinny frame would twist and writhe as I sucked her toes. She'd giggle and moan and her nipples stood on end as she pinched them. The fabric of her skimpy thong was noticeably wet in the middle.

I hadn't minded it at first, it was something new to me and the pleasure it gave her aroused me, as did the submissiveness of the act. But my mouth began to tire as she insisted on ******* as much of her foot would fit into my mouth. It seemed like I'd sucked, licked, kissed and rubbed her shapely feet for an hour or more by the time she put them back on the ground.

"You don't need any more training at that, you're an absolutely wonderful toe sucker," Charlotte giggled. "Now this next lesson is very important," she said, sliding out of her panties, "Since you don't have a real cock to please a woman you need to be very good with your mouth."

I knew what she meant as she parted her legs wide, inviting me to her shaved pussy.

"Ron left a nice surprise for you in there, sissy," Charlotte smirked as she wrapped her legs around my neck and ****** my face into the creamy mess that oozed from her pussy. "A good sissy has to know how to clean up after his wife's lover."

I shuddered as the taste of Ron's salty cum, mixed with the taste of her sour cunt hit my tongue. Imagining my sweet little DD having her pretty Asian snatch filled with another man's jizz excited me and scared me at the same time, as I wondered if she'd really do something as reckless as having unprotected sex with someone else.

"Yes, that's it, bitch, clean my fucking hole!" Charlotte growled. "Get your tongue in there, all the way. Yesssss, just like that," she instructed, "You better do a good job and get all of that seed out of there, I don't want to get pregnant again!"

"Wha!?" I gasped, shocked by her words, as my tongue vigorously licked the goo from her inner walls.

"My sissy didn't do a good job at first. Now we have two kids. Does DD want kids? Because if she does, just keep on doing the half-assed job that you're doing now!" Charlotte hissed.

Even as I strained my tongue to reach as far inside of her hot pussy as I could, my fearful eyes locked on hers. She had to be kidding. Creampie-eating as a form of birth control? That was insane!

Charlotte smiled as though she could read my mind. "Ooooh, Tonya, you've got that tongue so far inside of me! You really don't want your little Asian slut to have Ron's babies, do you? If you learn to get every drop, maybe you'll get lucky...but I doubt it."

Charlotte pushed my head away with her foot and excused herself for a moment.

Goose bumps consumed my flesh as I imagined DD pregnant...pregnant by someone else. It was crazy, almost unfathomable to think such a thought. And the level of depravity of this woman, and of Ron, if these things were true, should have sent me running right then and there.

But like a moth to the flame, that dark side of me - the perverted, lusty, illogical, uncontrollable inner beast - needed to touch the fire to know it was hot.

Besides that, things had gone farther than I'd ever imagined they could, and now I wasn't sure I could find my way back to a sane, quiet, normal life even if I wanted too, and at times, I was feeling like I definitely wanted to.

Constantly I had to remind myself that I'd already relinquished control of my marriage to Ron, an increasingly unsettling thought. Thanks to my carelessness, Ron had DD's ear, and his uncanny powers of persuasion had already sent her down a path that I wasn't sure she'd ever some back from. We had problems, but I wondered - if I'd never sent that first e-mail to Ron, would she have stayed true? Or was this truly all my fault?

I tried to focus on the bright side, if there was one. Life had gone from being painfully boring and redundant, to being a roller coaster with no brakes in almost no time flat. There was a feeling of impending doom that I sensed for my marriage. Surely this roller coaster would derail eventually, but the blind folded ride I was on had me feeling more alive than I'd felt in recent memory.

Lost in thought, I wasn't fully aware of my surroundings until I felt the cold metal clasp around my wrists. Snapping out of my trance, I found my hands cuffed behind back.

"Look what I found." Charlotte appeared in front of me, a large dildo in her hand. "Wow, your wife really does like them big," she said, admiring it's size. "Show me how you like to suck cock, sissy boy," Charlotte gripped my hair firmly and pressed it into my mouth.

I wondered, where the hell had DD been hiding all these things! It occurred to me that since I'd always seen her as prude and frigid, I'd never really thought to look for anything like this.

My cock stiffened as I tried to imagine my sexy wife playing with the over sized toy. I wondered what she did with it, aside from the obvious. Did she ever put it in her mouth? That thought turned me on even more than the idea of her putting it in her pussy. Did DD love to suck cock so much that she would actually wrap her soft lips around this beast and imagine sucking on a real one? Did she gag herself with it? Did she fuck herself hard and think about Ron? I realized I could fill a 'war and peace' length novel with the things I didn't know about my wife.

One thing was for certain; the toy hadn't been cleaned since it's last use. The taste of DD's pussy was giving me a thrill as I sucked on the rubber cock for Charlotte's amusement.

The realization that I wasn't making any effort to hide my new-found lust for sucking cock, humiliated and aroused me even further. Charlotte's perpetual grin showed amazement and approval.

"Ron sure made quick work of you. It took months for him turn my sissy boy into a cock craving, sissy faggot like you," she commented, icily. "Come on now, up you go, bitch," she patted the bed.

Again, Charlotte clutched a fist full of my hair and led me up onto my marriage bed. She ********** pushed my face down into the pillows, pulled my panties to the side and gave me a firm swat across my bare ass. "Are you ready to know what a nice big cock feels like in that tight little pussy?"

My eyes got big as I whimpered, "Charlotte, I don't think I can handle that. Please don't," I helplessly wiggled as I felt her spit on my puckered hole and rub it in with the tip of the dildo.

"Yes you can, and you will. No whining, bitch," Charlotte slapped my ass again.

"Charlotte, I'm serious!" I insisted, even as I felt her pressing hard against my hole.

"Shut the fuck up, sissy!" Charlotte snatched her panties, balled them up and shoved them into my mouth. "You're gonna be a good slut, just like your wife, and take this big cock in your pussy!"

My muffled protests had no effect as she finally worked the tip of it inside of me. Another stinging slap across my ass distracted me from one painful sensation to another. "This is much easier if you relax," Charlotte commented.

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that!" I incoherently exclaimed, with my mouth stuffed full of her panties.

"Just like that. Oh yes, there you go, there you go, take it bitch. Take this cock," Charlotte hissed, as she worked it deep into my ass.

"Oh fuck," I groaned, as she fucked me. My cock stiffened to rock hardness, betraying my protests as she drilled me.

The mixture of pain versus strange pleasure was overloading my senses. I couldn't decide if I loved this or hated it, in many ways, it was both. Not that it mattered, Charlotte was in control, and she was not going to stop fucking me in my ass, or my 'pussy' as she kept on referring to it.

Before I even knew what to make of the situation, my world stopped in an instant, and heart fell into my feet.

"I am not, fucking, seeing this," were the words she spoke.

To open my eyes and see my wife standing in the doorway of our bedroom at that moment was by far the worst possible feeling I could have ever felt.

DD's silky stockings were clinging to my legs, her garter belt chaffing my hips, her panties pressing against my stiff cock, and her lacy chemise was snugly around my torso. Her make up dolled-up my face, her lipstick was smeared across my lips as well as Charlottes toes and pussy, and this strange woman – who's panties were in my mouth - was behind me, shoving what may have been my wife's favorite toy, up my ass, mercilessly, making me moan, and there was DD to witness it all.

I could only imagine what went through her mind at that moment. Her eyes were racing, taking it all in, but showed no emotion that I could read.

I wished Charlotte would produce a gun, put it to my head and pull the trigger. But she didn't so much as stop fucking my ass at the sight of my wife. "You must be DD," Charlotte said easily, giving my reddened ass another hard slap.

DD started to speak, then stopped. Suddenly she laughed, putting her hand over her mouth, "Oh my fucking goodness," she cackled. And even as she laughed, I watched tears form in her eyes. Her soft cackling stopped on a dime and turned into what I thought was a sob, as she threw her hands up wildly in bewilderment. "I don't even know...I mean...how...what..." DD paused, and squinted at me, making her pretty slanted eyes appear as if not even open. But I knew she was looking at me, looking through me in fact - burning a hole in me with that stare.

"You must have known about him," Charlotte commented, giving my ass a few hard thrusts with the dildo. "I hardly believe the surprise on your face. Deep down, you always knew what kind of girl you married."

I couldn't believe what was coming out of Charlotte's mouth. If my hands had been free, I may have ****** her. I was mortified.

"Girl?" DD gave me a once over and shook her head as she wiped her tars. "I can't deal with this right now. I..." DD paused again and stared blankly. I could see her breathing rapidly, almost as if she might hyperventilate. Without another word, DD turned and walked out of the room.

"Stop!" I groaned through Charlotte's damp panties, as she continued to fuck me as though nothing had even happened. I heard the front door slam, and then the engine of DD's car starting.

"She had to deal with it eventually. You are what you are, bitch. Don't worry, Ron has it all under control," Charlotte said, with no hint of concern. She reached around and grabbed my dick and began to stroke it as she fuck me.

Great, I thought, Ron has it under control. He certainly did. That was the problem.

The hyperlink is visible to registered members only!


Introducing: Black Master Olu

Olu Sango took a moment's glance at the visa papers of the white couple seated across his desk from him and smiled to himself. There's a fool born every minute, and by God, he'd just found another.

The couple sat contentedly before him; he offered them tea and biscuits early and even allowed the husband the chance to smoke a cigarette, anything just to calm whatever fears they might be having whenever it comes to travelling to any foreign country, and in this case, an African one. He'd made casual conversation with them and wasn't surprised to hear the hubby explain that this would be their first trip to any African nation. And why was that possible? He'd just been offered a contract job with a thriving oil company located in Nigeria, but more than that, it was a first-time experience for both of them and they couldn't wait to start living it. Olu couldn't help but share their enthusiasm about this, although unbeknownst to the white couple, his reason was for something entirely different from where their thoughts were heading. Oh sure, he would make damn sure they enjoy their stay in Africa ... most especially the Mrs.

While Arnold Coltrane was a slim, average-tall man in his latte forties, possessing sandy-colored hair that were already starting to turn grey, his wife, Becca, was a robust, light-blonde beauty. Olu was moved by the sight of her tits which although sagging from behind her blouse, seemed to want to push out and hug the air before them. She's got some natural hips too, he thought to himself, and her ass looks like it's begging for something black and strong. He sure couldn't wait to get her pert-shaped lips acquainted with his 9-inch superior black pounder.

But he had a plan, and such was what he was about to enact.

The couple had gotten a temporary visa at the Nigerian London office a day before they boarded their Virgin flight plane that brought them here to the state capital. Arnold's company office was well aware of his need to get a working two-week visa permit and thus had furnished him with Olu's telephone number as well as four day's period so as to get his papers intact. Olu couldn't have been happier when he got the call the previous day and after taking note that the couple were cooling off at a suite in the Nicon-Noga Hilton hotel had arranged today's meeting so as to get a better look at what he had to work with. While he'd made light humor and conversation with the couple and then offered them tea, he'd excused himself and gone to a side office and instructed two state security officers, loyal men whom he often used for such clandestine operations, and gave them the go-ahead to do what needed to be done. He needn't instruct them on what to do, as they were well familiar with this type of work. By the time he returned to seat with the couple, handing them documented embassy papers for them state their vital and personal infos, his boys were climbing into their nondescript vehicle and driving out of the embassy's gate. It was a twenty minute drive to the hotel, but the officers turned on their siren and broke through the city's traffic easily and stepped on the gear, cutting the journey in half.

Another fifteen minutes later and Olu was seeing the couple out of his office. By now they were acting jovial in each other's company as if he were an old friends; such was the charm he exerted whenever he was meeting couples for the first time. The company's expatriate worker who'd furnished Arnold with Olu's number had stated that Olu was someone who knew just how well to cut through all the bureaucratic red-tape nonsense he was bound to encounter once he arrived at the embassy. Arnold evidently felt happy with the way things were going as he led his wife down the embassy's front steps and then got into their waiting vehicle. Olu waved at them as the gates came open for them and then drove into the city's pestering traffic. Some minutes later the two officers reported to him at his office.

"It's done, sir," the most senior said.

"No one at the lobby asked any questions?" he asked.

"None, sir. We didn't announce our actual intention, and swore the Manager not to reveal anything."

"And you deposited the package where neither will find it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good." He opened one of his desk drawers and took out a bundle of money which he gave to the security men to divide amongst themselves. They smiled, saluted him, and then left his office. It was only then Olu allowed himself to lean his head back and laugh.

Everything was going exactly as planned. By this time tomorrow, he would have the couple feeding off from the palm of his hand. He couldn't wait for that moment to come through.

There was a Virgins-Nigeria local flight leaving at 10:00a.m the following morning from Abuja to Port Harcourt, which was Arnold's destination. At 8:35a.m that morning, he and Becca, his wife, checked out of their hotel suite and flagged a taxi to take them to the airport. Olu had called him the previous evening to reassure him that his working papers would be made ready for him by the following week, that it would be mailed to his company's Port Harcourt office signed and delivered, and Arnold had nothing more to worry about.

His worries actually began than morning at 9:22a.m, right after he and Becca had checked in their bags and were strolling towards the boarding ramp. They got stopped by two security officials, the same officers whom Olu had sent the previous day to do his dirty work, though the couple were unaware of who they were. Both men this time were dressed officiously in gabardine uniform, both sporting stern, no-nonsense outlook on their faces. One of them presented the stunned couple with their state security badges and informed them that one of their bags had sounded a red flag just as it was being cleared through the Customs section. As they were talking, several patrol officers swarmed into the lounge; one of them trailing a hungry-looking German Shepard while another held an automatic rifle in both hands. Other commuters who stood were there to make other impending flights suddenly started making themselves scare from the vicinity. The unlucky foreign couple were unaware of how state security officials this part of the world tended to operate; when it involved hard ***** or anything illegal, they seldom fuck around.

"We will have to check through the contents of your bag," one of the security men stated to the still dumb-looking couple. "Hope it's all right with both of you."

Becca turned a fearful look at her husband. "My God, Arnold, what could they possibly want¬—"

"It's okay, darling. Let's just let the fine officers do their job. I'm sure it's just some false alarm or something," her husband tried calming her, though he too was just as nervous and worried as she.

Their bags were laid out on the floor unopened, and the dog began sniffing its nose one at a time. By now a murmuring crowd was drawing towards the plight of the white couple, both of whom stood between the two security men, observing with numbing surprise what level of mistreatment was being enacted upon their luggage.

One of the patrol men turned over one of the large bags on its side to enable the Shepard dog to run its nose down the bag's side pockets. It was at that moment the dog retreated and made first a growling sound, followed by a string of wild barks. The sound of its barks unnerved the couple and Arnold had to ask one of the security men what the dog's barking signified. The security men indicated for two other patrol men to pick up the bag and then they led the way towards a back doorway with the couple in tow.

The door gave way to a narrow corridor and immediately as the door from which they'd entered closed behind them, the harsh sounds of the airport virtually died away. Becca was about enquiring where they were being taken to, or rather what was happening, when they made a left turn, and then one of the security men pushed open a door and indicated for both of them to step inside. The square-foot room was small, the walls were painted light brown, and except for a window that was enclosed behind a mesh, all the room boasted of was a table that took up nearly half the room's space, with two chairs on one side and a single one positioned at the other. The scene looked like something that had been well rehearsed time and time again, though aside from the two security men, the couples have always been different. But they, along with their boss, knew already how this scene usually always played out. Not once had the plot failed.

The couple sat on the two chairs just as the patrol officers dropped the bag on the table and then took their leave. One of the security men positioned himself by the door, having turned the lock, while the couple watched apprehensively as his colleague wore on a pair of surgical hand gloves. Above their heads, a CCTV camera watched the live action, transmitting the feed to a video monitor in a room located down the corridor from where they were. Olu sat with a video technician whose duty it was to record the proceedings. Both their eyes were trained on the TV screen in front of them which was filming the security official as he opened the suspected luggage and began unearthing its contents on the table while Arnold and his wife watched on in silence.

The security man was meticulous and patient with the way he emptied the bag of every item that was inside. It was part of the plan to keep the couple of edge was they watched what was ongoing, though they wished he would hurry as Arnold kept glancing at his wristwatch and dismally noting how near the time for their flight boarding was approaching. When he was done with the inner contents, the security man turned his focus to the side pockets of which the content inside the dog had been barking about. There were few items there: dispensable razors, a pack of handkerchiefs, two ball-points pen ... and then there was a small black pouch bag. The couple's eyes both set on this as the security man dropped it carefully on the table before them as if it contained an explosive.

Quickly the husband was the first to declare: "Whatever that is, it's not mine. I've never seen that before."

"Nor I," Becca too stated.

The security man didn't bother taking notice of their words as he gently opened the pouch bag and emptied its contents on the table in front of them. The couple's eyes both seemed to grow wide at the same time and their lips uttered gasps of surprise as they took in the little mountain hill of white power that was cocaine pouring out of the bag.

"Does this," the state security man waved his hand at the mountain of pure cocaine displayed on the table, though his eyes switched back and forth to either couple, "belong to either of you?"

"That's not mine!" Arnold was now in a rage, having noted that they'd missed their flight, and raised his voice at him, and then slapped his palm in frustration on the table's edge. "I don't know where you got that fucking thing from, but that **** wasn't in my bag when he got here!"

"That's true, officer," his wife said in support.

"You both ought to know, neither of you are the first caught bringing in this stuff into the country," the officer went on, totally impervious to Arnold's diatribe. Both officers have seen it before and knew how to handle it whenever such instances arose; it was all part of the scripted plot: first to arouse anger, and then to break their will totally.

"This is some serious crime you both are into," he politely continued. "The chances of either of you coming out of this clean are very slim, and damaging. However, my colleague and I can turn a blind eye, as you both are new to the country, though we'd very much like for your co-operation in this¬—"

"Listen to me, you stupid fucker," Arnold pushed his chair back, rose to his feet and leaned his now red face towards the security officer. "I've had just about ****** enough of you and your bull****. I've already told you, that fucking coke ain't mine, or my wife's. We don't use that crap! And that's all there is I'm going to say. Now, I want you and your friend over there to let us the fuck out of here and let me talk to someone that's got more brains that yo¬¬—"

He was aiming a finger at the officer's chest while he spat his anger. Olu, watching what was happening through the TV screen, shook his head and smiled. Big mistake, Arnold, he said to himself.

It was here the plot turned serious. The security officer grabbed hold of Arnold's pointing finger and gave it a sharp twist. Arnold's brow concocted into a mask of pain a second before he let go a screeching wail. The officer held his palm upside down and slammed it hard on the table next to the small mountain of cocaine; Arnold let forth another high scream. His wife got up, wanting to cry out too, but the officer gave her a severe look and yelled at her to shut up. Becca did that instantly; her lips trembled with fear.

The officer leaned his face towards Arnold's and said to him: "Don't you ever raise your voice at me, mister. And don't you ever in your life point your finger at me, or I'll get a machete and cut this hand of your off and feed it to our security dogs outside. Do you understand me?"

For emphasis, he gave his hand another deft twist; Arnold got the message and immediately apologized.

Olu knew that was his cue. He took with him a file folder and exited the video room and strolled down to where the interrogation was taking place. The officer standing by the door knew he was the one from the light tap he gave the door and the man unlocked the door, saluted, and then stepped aside for him to make his entrance. Olu returned the officer's salute and then turned an angry eye towards the scene before him. Arnold returned to his chair, hugging his hand, still muttering his hurt from the pain, even as his wife showed some relief at Olu's arrival. The other officer quickly let go of Arnold's hand and saluted his boss—this was the next phase of the plot.

"Exactly what has been going on in here, officer?" he blazed with feigned anger at the officer and began hurling ****** at him in Yoruba language. "I gave instructions that neither of them was to be touched until I got here..." he went on chiding the officer before instructing both of them to vanish from his sight. "I'll deal with the both of you later," he said to them as they walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.

"I'm so terribly sorry for what that officer did to you," the look on his face suggested to the couple that he sincerely meant that. "Please accept my apologies."

"Those men are nothing but filthy ********" said Becca, still tending to her husband's hand.

"Without a doubt," Olu replied. "And I'll make sure they get absolutely what's coming to them. However, this changes a lot of things." He unbuttoned his suit as he sat down on the chair across from the couple. He related to them how he'd hurried all the way down here after receiving a call from one of his colleagues down at the airport of the white couple who'd just been arrested. And now with this business of cocaine," he shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid that things have suddenly turned ugly for the both of you."

For the next thirty-plus minutes they argued, harangued, and counter-argued with him, but all to no avail. Olu was well aware of Nigeria's current policy regarding cocaine smuggling, and was happy to make them aware of the enormousness of their problems.

"I'm going to be as totally honest as I can. You're both looking at five-seven years for possession with possible intent to distribute. It doesn't matter how well or how much you plead the case," he told them matter-of-factly. "The fact that the **** was found in your bag, in your possession, makes it even more incriminating. I'm not here trying to point fingers, mind you. I don't know if the **** is yours or not, just letting you know the facts, and right now, the facts speak a lot that isn't good. That's just about all that's required for the judge to make a conviction, and even your embassy people too will go along with it, no matter how much you try to appeal. I'm sorry, but that's just how it is."

The news shocked and devastated the couple almost at once; the fiery anger had left Arnold's eyes and all that was there was a crestfallen sigh. Olu waited for them to say something. If neither of them did, then he would have to be the one to ask the question. Fortunately for him, the wife did just that.

"But please, isn't there something ... anything that you can do to help us?" she looked at him pleadingly. She reached over for his arm. "Please, Olu. If there's anything we can do to ..."

Olu felt like congratulating himself at that moment, though his face remained concerned to their plight. This is just too easy, he thought to himself.

"Well ... there possibly is something ..." he paused when he saw the light returning to the couple's eyes.

"Yes, what? Please tell us," the wife urged him.

"I really don't know if you'll both agree to it. But right now I can say it's the only thing that will help. It's nothing illegal, and it doesn't involve money on anyone's part. Still, I don't know if I should—"

"Please, tell us," said Arnold, now a cowered and humble man. "Whatever it is, Becca and I will try to agree with it."

Olu gave them a curious look. "You both willing to try? Absolutely willing to hear what it is I have to say?"

They nodded their heads almost simultaneously. "Yes, absolutely," said Becca.

Olu fell silent for a moment, then smiled and said: "Alright. Don't worry, I know it's something you'll both thank me for afterwards." He opened the file folder he'd brought along with him and took out a sheath of paper that was inside it. "First, I'll need both of you to look through this agreement. After which I'd like for you, Arnold, to sign it."

Olu sat there patiently and watched the movement of their eyes as husband and wife read through the contents of the document. He played with his silk tie, glanced at his fingernails and drummed them lightly on the table's surface, playing a familiar tune in the back of his mind while they went on reading. This was the climax of the plot—the moment he'd been so much waiting for. He noticed the gleaming look in the couple's eyes as both of them paused in their reading to look at each other, then turn their eyes to look at him as if surprised he was still seated there in their midst. Olu flashed them a grin and indicated for them to continue reading, which they very much did.

The husband was the first to react, pushing himself away from the document and shaking his head emphatically like a *****. "No. no ... I won't ... I won't sign for this. No way!"

Becca went on reading through the fine-print before looking up at Olu with surprise in her eyes. "You can't be serious?"

"Oh. But I am serious," Olu adjusted himself in his chair, resting his arms on the table. "I'm very, very serious. And I think both you and Arnold should take my offer quite seriously, as this is the only offer you're both going to get from staying away from our prison."

Becca seemed to jump at the mention of the word 'prison'. Arnold was becoming defiant once more.

"What exactly are you, Mr. Sango¬?" he asked. You a slave merchant or something?"

Olu couldn't help but laugh. "Please, Arnold, it's Olu. And in answer to your question, no, I'm no slave merchant. I do however have an eye for your lovely wife here, and I would like very much to keep her company while you'll be on your way to Port Harcourt. She will be my sex slave for the duration of your time spent within my country, to fuck and to get fucked in whichever way that I so well please. The document in your hand is merely a contract bind just to make sure the three of us have an equal understanding of what's at stake here."

"And what happens if we refuse to sign?"

Olu made as if it was no big deal to him, which in a way it really wasn't—the hubbies are the ones always wanting to have a fighting chance like they think this was a game they could win.

"Nothing serious, except that our friendship turns sour right this minute. I'll pack up my stuff and go away and both of you will never hear from me ever again." He cocked a thumb at the door and continued, "those two gorillas will return back in here to claim your stuff and have you both transported to the state CID office, where you'll both be arraigned first thing tomorrow morning under charges of **** possession, with possible intention to distribute, as I mentioned earlier. Your country's embassy files appeal after appeal, but neither of which is going to help your case any more than the Chief Prosecutor is just going to be happy to throw the book at you ... after he's listened to the sworn testimonies of the arresting security officers who will further attest to your trying to argue with him. Then, my guess it's straight to jail for the next five-seven years of your lives. Have you ever been to one of my country's jails before, Arnold? Trust me, it's like a weekend in hell. Except this will be one weekend the both of you are going to regret."

The shock was in their eyes. Becca listened attentively to his words and grasped her husband's hand, both of them shaking with fear.

"But neither of this has to happen," Olu went on. "We can still remain friends; right now, I desire nothing more than to still be your friend. All you have to do is sign that piece of paper—I'll make you a copy—and then everything goes away: the cocaine, the embarrassment at the airport, the jail term, everything. Becca will stay in my care, and I promise she'll be well taken care of. Not a single dose of hurt will come to her skin."

"We can have your word on that?" asked Becca uncertainly.

"Like it was written in stone, you will," came his reply. "This is strictly between the three of us. No one will ever know, not even your husband's employers, whom I reckon won't be anywhere near happy if by chance they do."

She shared a look with her husband. They both seemed to communicate without expressing it in words. After a moment she nodded her head, and then Arnold sighed with resignation, his face weary with tiredness—this was a nightmare he truly wanted to get out of. And he realised he couldn't afford to lose his job if the oil company found out about this, neither would he wish to spend a minute, much less a second, lock up in a foreign country's jail. He picked up the document and looked back at Olu with a strained smile on his lips.

"You got a pen?"

Olu smiled back at him as he reached into his jacket pocket for his pen.

Victory at last!

The couple stepped out of the room half an hour later as different people. Upon signing the document, Olu summoned back the security men and spoke to them still in Yoruba to clear up the cocaine, repack the couple's bags, and make sure the husband gets on the next available flight to Port Harcourt as soon as possible. He excused himself for a moment and returned to the video room to claim the recorded tape as well as settle the technician with a bundle of Naira before returning to the couple and escorting them out of that vicinity of the airport.

The next scheduled flight to Port Harcourt wasn't leaving till two and a half hour's time. Olu basked in happiness as it afforded him enough time to insert himself into the couple's presence. He booked Arnold a ticket and then steered them towards a cafeteria, wanting to buy them an early lunch. He told Becca to sit beside him, as she was now his designated property, she was deemed to obey his every instruction and never to ask questions or look at her husband for soliciting help. He chatted with them as if nothing had even happened the past hour or so, and they too tried to keep up appearances. When they were done, he told them to come with him to the car, that there was something he very much would like for them to see. He told them not to bother worrying about their luggage, as the two security men would make sure nothing happens to them.

Into his BMW they went with Becca sitting beside him while Arnold sat alone in the back. Being a top career diplomat, Olu was designated a driver, however because of his mission for today, he'd given his driver the day off. He entered the teeming city traffic and drove them in the direction of the area known as Miatama District, located in the heart of the federal capital, where a majority of government officials and politicians had their homes. Olu drove his car into one of such lavish homes. The large gate came open and then he drove in, circling the round driveway that cut through a well kept lawn till coming to a stop a few feet from the glass door of the mansion. Becca and Arnold came down from the vehicle, taking in the lovely sight of the house and wondered on whose pay was he able to afford such an impressive structure. Neither of them bothered to ask the most important question—what exactly where they doing here?

Olu led them into his abode, and from there up the stairs and into his large bedroom.

He told Becca to sit on the bed while Arnold he indicated a chair by the other side of the room, and they both watched as first he took of his jacket and shoes, and then began unbuttoning his shirt. There was a state-of-the-art stereo and DVD system on a cabinet facing the king-sized bed, above which stood a wide-screen LCD TV. Olu finished removing his clothes till he was standing in the middle of the room in his boxer shorts. Both Becca and Arnold's eyes though were embarrassingly fixated on the ample jutting of his erection from behind his boxer shorts, as it strained through the fabric like the world's strongest tent pole. Olu noticed their eyes ogling him and it brought a smile to his lips. He thought he would play with them for a while before deciding to whip out his hot rod. He picked up a large remote from the bed and aimed it at the DVD and stereo system. At first music began to play—Barry White crooning for a woman to practice what she preaches—and then the DVD system came to life, followed by the TV screen. There was a portable web camera resting on the top of the stereo set, and when Olu pressed another button, the camera immediately turned on and it presented its picture on the TV screen, showing Olu standing there in front of the bed, along with Arnold's wife where she sat with her legs clumped together like a school girl.

"Oh my," Becca gasped. Neither she nor her husband was expecting to see that.

Olu turned to her and smiled. "You like what you see, Becca? I'll bet you do, though I'll bet you even more that the picture looks better when you're close to it. How about you bring yourself right now to me. it's high time I get a first taste of what you're made of." He licked his tongue over his lips.

Becca glanced at her husband, afraid of what was about to happen.

"Don't worry about Arnold watching; he's going to be a good boy. It's why I want him to sit in on this." He turned to glare at her husband. "You are going to be good, aren't you, Arnold?" it sounded more like a statement than a question.

Arnold nodded his head in utter defeatism; he resembled a shadow of his former self.

"That's a good boy." He turned back at Becca and waved a finger at her, his voice turned seductive. "Come over here, Becca. Don't be shy—I swear I won't bite."

Becca got up from the bed and slowly approached him. Olu leaned his face over the side of her neck and breathed in her musky-scented perfume. He pulled her body towards his and kissed her shoulder. Becca gasped when she felt his hand slid down her skirt to cup her ample butt. Her breasts now were pressing against his chest hard; she too brought her hands to his back and flinched when she felt his erection touch her abdomen. Olu kissed her neck all the way to her ear lobe while his hands went on squeezing the round, soft flesh that was her ass. Becca couldn't stop herself from not responding to the effect of his kisses; she looked at the lonely figure that was her husband seated a few feet from them and then shut her eyes. Olu brought his lips to hers and within seconds his tongue slid into her mouth, smacking her lips in a kiss. Becca felt suddenly light-headed. Never had she made love to a black man before, neither if she could remember ever speculating about it had she ever thought she would have to travel thousands of miles to the heart of Africa before she could get a taste of one. Yet here it was happening to her, and though she couldn't lie to herself¬—a part of her was beginning to enjoy the feeling.

Her hands felt over his body while they kissed. One of it slid downward into his shorts to cup his erection. It was at that moment she got another awaiting surprise. The surprise this time was so immediate she pulled her lips off Olu's and pushed down his boxers to get a good look at what he was packing.

"Oh my God!" she gasped at the enormity of his thick black cock. Never had she glimpsed a cock this big, and it took her a moment to get her mind settled over it. "Arnold, look at this!"

"Yeah, Arnold, come look at what your wife here just found out," he laughed harshly as Arnold half rose from where he sat and his mouth too came unhinged when he got a good view of the size of the diplomat's cock.

Olu winked at his wife and said: "I'll bet Arnold's tiny pecker is nothing compared to this, right?"

"Truly, no," Becca said it before she even realized she had, and then felt immediately embarrassed for having admitted the truth. "Is this cock for real?"

He looked at her as if she were dumb. "Of course it's real, you stupid bitch! You're holding it in your hand, aren't you?"

Indeed she was, and stroking it too. Feeling her hand slid back and forth over its membranous skin as a dose of pre-cum juice poured out of its purple-colored head. Her body was already starting to react towards the sight of the black cock, so too was her pussy which she felt was already getting her cunt lips wet with excitement.

"Well, don't stand there looking too long at it, bitch," he barked at her. Becca cried as he roughly grabbed the back of her hair and bent her down towards his abdomen. "Put your mouth on get to work, bitch! Time's a-wasting, and I've got other stuff to do."

Becca held unto his waist while his cock dangled and smacked her face; her nostrils inhaled its enticing scent. She wrapped her lips around the bulging purple head of his cock and gradually took half of him into her mouth. Olu went on ******* her head on him, wanting her to take as much of his cock as she could, while his other hand pulled up her skirt and began roughly finger-fucking her wet cunt. Becca made grunting sounds down in her throat as Olu kept her ******* hard on his shaft; lines of saliva dropped from her mouth while she gagged on him. Arnold sat there and watched in horror at the service his once humble wife was performing for a black stranger.

"Yeah," Olu murmured. "That's how you suck a black cock. Ohhh yeah ... that's it, bitch, suck that cock like you want it. As you're going to be my sex slave, and me being your slave master, I'm going to teach you all about handling black cock. Go on, get down on your knees and keep sucking me."

Becca did as told, knelt before him, and now wrapped both hands around his shaft and went on sucking him. Olu kept sweeping back her lock of blond hair that kept falling down from her face. Becca had begun applying some vigor to her work, ******* her jaw to open wide enough to take in more and more of Olu's cock, pausing now and then to slobber and lick the length of his shaft before popping his cock back into her mouth.

"You enjoying yourself, Becca?" he asked her. "You loving that black cock?"

"Oh yes, Olu," she gasped with excitement. "I'm really loving it!"

Olu growled at her: "Bitch! Don't you ever call me by my name!" he bent her over and gave her ass a good smack, making her howl, then he pulled her head up and gazed angrily into her eyes. "From now on, you and your man will both address me as Sango, your black master. Got that, bitch!"

"Yes!" Becca cried out. "Yes, I've got it!"

Arnold then made an attempt to rise. "Now hold on here, Olu, this has gone way too—"

Olu left Becca and stumped towards him. Without a word, pulled Arnold up by his shirt collar and drove a fist into his abdomen. Arnold gave a loud grunt and fell to the floor, hugging the spot where he'd just been punched. Olu pulled him to his feet and dropped him back on his chair. He looked at him like one would look at an insect before squashing it.

"Don't you dare interrupt my lesson, Arnold," he said to him coldly. "Ever again, don't you dare do that. And the next time you refer to me by anything other than the name I just gave you, our deal is off and you and your wife here will rot in my prison. And I'll see to it that your ass and hers gets beaten and gang-raped on a steady basis every week. Do you get me, white boy?"

"Yes ... yes ... I do," Arnold answered between moans, still clutching his stomach.

"Yes, what?"

Arnold got the hint. "Yes, I do, Sango. My black master."

The scowl that was on Olu's face instantly vanished when Arnold said what he'd wanted to hear, bringing the smile back to his face. "Good. That's very good what you said. You're learning quickly, white boy. Now, where was I? Ah, yes!" he returned to where Becca was still kneeling for his return. Surprisingly, his cock was still as hard. She stroked it before reintroducing it back into her mouth.

"Yeah ... that's a good bitch. You and your man are going to learn how to respect black cock from now on." Then he looked up at Arnold. "Matter of fact, why don't you bring your white boy ass over here and show us what you can do."

If Arnold understood what Olu actually meant, it took his body a moment to respond. Olu flashed his eyes at him and said: "Hustle it up, white boy! Get your ass down here and get a taste of this black cock!"

As if he were stuck in a dream, Arnold rose to his feet unsteadily and came to kneel beside his wife. Becca paid him no attention; her concentration was bent on sucking the life out of her black master's cock.

"Becca, slow down now," said Olu. "Let white boy here get a taste. Now Arnold, I want you to take that cock in your mouth like a good boy and start sucking it. And you'd better do a fine job of it too, or your ass is in trouble, you hear me?"

Arnold didn't need a reminder to that. Becca gave her master's cock one last kiss before passing it over to him. "Go ahead, honey. Make me proud."

He shut his eyes and opened his mouth to receive the black master's cock. He stuck his tongue out and took a first taste of its leathery skin just as Olu then held his head and impatiently shoved his cock hard into his mouth. The ***** of his cock hitting the back of Arnold's throat made him recoil a bit, except his master still held unto his head, thus he had no choice to but accept the gift that was now in his mouth.

"Go on darling, suck it," his wife urged him. "Go on, take his cock."

Did he have any choice not to? The answer was a bold N-O. Arnold did like his wife often used to do to him whenever she was sucking his cock and began sucking Olu's. His black master still held unto his head and went on fucking his mouth, making him ***** and gag on it, letting streams of saliva sliver down the side of his mouth.

After what seemed like a lengthy time of cock-sucking with husband and wife fighting over his cock, Olu retrieved his tool from their grasp and ordered them to strip. He went and sat on the bed, stroking his cock while Becca and Arnold hurried themselves out of their clothes till they stood naked before him. He gave a wolf whistle at the sight of Becca's ample bosom and jutting ass. He made her turn around for him, admiring her sexy curves, before indicating for her to come towards him, which she did. He lay back on the bed and Becca, knowing what was required of her, mounted him. Olu, still holding unto his shaft at first tickled the surface of her bushy clit. Becca was feeling so hot; she wanted that cock like a thirsty man out in the desert would seek a glass of water.

Her face looked to the chandelier hanging from the ceiling and first she took in a sharp intake of breath as she felt the head of his cock penetrate her pussy walls. Her intake of breathe turned into a sharp cry as his cock achieved full penetration. Olu didn't slow down after that—this was another moment he always enjoyed. The exquisite look of pain and ecstasy on the white women's faces whenever they felt the brute ***** of his cock for the first time. It never ceased to excite him, knowing that he was probably breaking their virginity towards sampling a cock that was ten times more original than the limp white cock they'd been feeding on since they turned teens. The moment they felt his cock, it was almost as if they were been reborn, and from that moment on, they would do totally everything and anything to worship him.

He held Becca's thighs and pressed her downward till her cunt had taken nearly half the length of his shaft. By this time she was screaming a high shrill of excitement and pain. She was caught in the throbbing vortex of something extreme, of something totally out of this world, alien, and yet so joyously wonderful.

"OHHHH MY GOODDDDDDD!" Becca gave a lengthy cry as she felt her master's cock slid in further into her cunt, going distant places she never thought any cock would ever venture to. She waved her head about, letting her blond hair scatter about her shoulders. The sound of her excruciating moans descended upon the room, nearly drowning out the music that was coming out of the stereo speakers. Within seconds she was having her first orgasm; it came to her with the mighty ***** of a rocket. Her body seemed to spasm endlessly. "Ohhh my Goddd ... Ohhh my black master! Ohh Sango! Ohh God, I can feel your cock all over!"

Olu burst out with laughter, cocked his legs behind her ass and went on feeding her cunt with his shaft. Becca leaned over his face, her blond hair almost covering his face. She went on screaming as he kept on plying his cock into her. Arnold stood there and watched with mind-numbing surprise at the juicy content of his wife's cum gushing out of her pussy and rolling down the length of his master's cock. A moment later Olu hollered at him to come over and clean up his shaft. He pulled his cock out of his wife's pussy and stuck it forward for Arnold to lick it clean. Arnold always enjoyed giving his wife head right before they make love. He enjoyed so much the warm and succulent taste of her cum gushing into his lips and it was with this image in his head that he was able to lick his master's cock clean of his wife's pussy juice. When he was done, he took a couple of steps back and watched as his master returned his thick cock back into the safety of his wife's cunt; her pussy was now an expanded hole, looking like a giant meteorite crater. Becca howled instantly the moment she felt the return of his cock into her and this time began grinding her ass down on him. Olu gasped from the tightness of her cunt, loving it at the same time as he was now bent on fucking her hard.

For the next thirty minutes he went on pounding Becca's pussy, making her scream and scream and scream delightful music into his ear each time he pulled out his cock only to thrust it back inside her. Orgasm after orgasm wracked her body till she just about thought she would pass out. Olu lifted her up from the bed, locked her legs behind his waist and went on slamming his cock hard against her pussy, till he turned her over and resumed his fucking. He fucked her in more ways that she'd never been fucked before. Becca on her own part couldn't believe how suddenly her life had taken a drastic turn. Twenty-four hours ago she'd been a happily married white woman. Now here she was getting the **** fucked out of her with a black man who fucked her as if he wasn't human. She couldn't stop her screaming, tightening her legs over his waist and pulling him down towards her as she felt another rocket of orgasm about to explode inside her.

"OHHH MY MASTER, FUCK ME! OH GOD, FUCK ME GOODDDD....!"

Just like that, she surrendered herself to another fulfilling rocket explosion. It was then that her master began to grunt louder into her ear and she knew he too was about to cum. He gave a thunderous groan and pulled his cock out of her.

"Get your ass over here, white boy!" he yelled at Arnold, who immediately obeyed, scrambling himself unto the bed which now bore the scent of his wife's pussy.

Olu positioned husband and wife lying beside each other in front of him and began furiously jerking his cock. His breath sounded harsh and just when he felt himself arrive at the precipice, he bellowed once more, aiming the head of his cock to the couple's faces. The first gush of semen landed across Becca's face. Olu emptied is sac over their face and lips and ordered them to digest every drop.

They did as told. In the end, they desired for more.

Arnold did make his flight as promised an hour later. Olu, his black master, saw him to the airport while Becca sat in the car waiting. Olu told him he would fax his work permit papers to his office in a couple of days time, and for Arnold not to worry anymore about anything, including his wife, as she would be in great care till whenever he came back to claim her. As for his copy of their contract, he would send it via email to Arnold's office address; he could then download it whenever he felt like. He stood in the lounge area and watched as Arnold's plane took off into the sky before returning to his car to be with his newest white slave. He had the rest of the day and even the remainder of the week to further indoctrinate her into loving his blackness.

He returned to his vehicle in the airport's parking space, opened his car door and got in. Immediately, Becca leaned towards him and gave him a kiss. She was wearing a tank top with knee-length skirt which easily rode up her legs. He wrapped a hand on her meaty thigh and rode it up to feel the pubic hairs of her crotch; she was already growing wet.

He smiled at her and asked: "You ready for your lesson, white slut?"

Becca nodded. "Oh yes, black master. I'm very ready."

"Good." He put on a pair of sunglasses, started his car and drove out of the airport. Destination: the city, and beyond.

Becca blinked her eyes awake the following morning, under the covers of her black master's sumptuous bed. Her hand felt numb and heavy as it was lying under the pillow under her head. She pulled it out and stretched it across the other side of the bed, wanting to feel the presence of her master's body. The space her hand touched was empty. She raised her head and saw that the only thing lying there was his pillow and nothing else. She sat up on the bed, letting the covers fall from her body, exposing her nakedness to the air-conditioned cold breeze that flirted into the room. Her wristwatch and cell phone lay on a cabinet next to her side of the bed. She picked it up and was shocked to find that it was 9:35a.m. How could she have slept that late? It was something she seldom did. Back home she always going to bed by nine-thirty and got up by six. Then her mind went back to episodes of the previous night and she smiled and then laughed at herself from recalling bits of it.

Her master had promised showing her a good time as long as she was with him, and he'd lived up to the bargain yesterday. After dropping her darling Arnold at the airport, they'd gone to an upper-class restaurant in the city to eat a lavish meal. He'd introduced her to some Nigerian cuisine there—pounded yam and Egusi soup, with fresh fish. She'd acted a bit naive when he instructed her how to eat the food, with her hands. Though more concerned was she about the clothes she was wearing. Her skirt kept riding up her thighs and several of the patrons there must have gotten quite an eyeful as several of them¬—older men wearing colorful Agbada outfit¬—couldn't stop staring repeatedly at the booth where they sat. Her black master though seemed unconcerned about it, and even when she leaned over and she whispered to him about the way they were feeding their eyes on her, he nonchalantly told her not to worry about them, that they probably haven't seen a white woman eating in their midst before. Becca had turned her attention towards her meal, watching the way her master was eating his and thus following his cue. In no time she got the hang of it.

After the restaurant, he'd driven her around the city, pointed out several interesting landmarks for her: showed the expansive government residential headquarters, INEC Building, Abuja Park along Independence Avenue ... but the sight that had most taken her was the magnificent of Olumo Rock. She stared at the huge boulder in awe as they drove past it and entered the part of the city known as Garki. Her master saw the look on her face and laughed; the ladies always got a kick whenever he showed them stuff this part of the world they never figured they would get to see. When he got to a traffic light, he took his hand off the wheel for a moment and caressed her thigh. She took his hand and pushed it inward through the wet walls of her pussy. Olu fingered her cunt for a moment, listened to her gasping sighs, and the retrieved his finger which carried the wet residue of her juice and put it into her mouth. Becca sucked his finger as if it were his cock¬—Ohh, she still carried memories of that lovely black cock of his¬—as if she were tasting ice cream. He drove to a boutique shop and they went inside for him to get some clothes for her.

"I don't want you wearing any of those housewife clothes your husband must have to told you to bring along," he said to her. "From now on, you're going to wear what I get you to wear."

Majority of what he'd bought for her were evening clothes, mostly transparent and quite revealing. They were the type of clothes Becca, in her former life with Arnold, never would have been caught dead wearing them. She was by heart a conservative in nature; hers was a world where even if the money was there, it was usually put aside for something else which usually involved settling bills. Even now as she sat in her master's bed, thinking through her past, she could easily count on her fingers the numerous times she and Arnold had done something extravagant, or a moment when they'd lived an abandon moment. Arnold was always concerned about money, about never having enough of it. In a way, she too had become infected with his mode of living ... but it had probably been for a good reason. That was the type of life they lived when back home. But here they both were in Nigeria, in the heart of Africa, miles away from home. Arnold was now settled in his new job down in Port Harcourt, making the money, while she herself was being guided by her newfound lover and black master. She couldn't have wished for anything better, even though neither of them had had the faintest clue that such was the turnaround they would be getting used to when their Air-France plane brought them to this part of the world.

Olu made her try them on the individual clothes he'd bought for her; they were seven of them in number. The skirts were so short she was at a moment embarrassed to try them on. But the look he gave her told her not to even think about backing down. There were several other ladies hovering there around the changing booth and clothes section and nearly all of them kept turning around to glance surreptitiously at her direction when she came out and displayed each individual outfit for her lover. After the clothes, they strolled over to the underwear's section. He bought her an exotic-looking bikini, something that only a slim model would fit into. It was followed by some crotchless panties, three pairs of teddies, and then in the shoes department, he selected four pair of high heels. Becca was getting dazed with surprise by the minute. She could recall the few times she'd been on high heels; Arnold never enjoyed seeing her in one. She said this to her master as she tried on each pair. Olu dismissed her husband and told her that as long as she was with him, she should forget about Arnold.

They had an assistant help them with the items to his car while he settled the bill. Though it was a bit enormous, he reasoned, but it was a gamble he knew was worth it. He always enjoyed spoiling his women with lavish gifts; it got them wet easily in the end.

Back home they'd returned, by which time it was nearing dusk. He had her try out of the teddies in the living room, and then he'd bent her over on the long sofa and fucked her. For Becca, it was like being fucked for the first time. His cock rammed deep and hard into her pussy like a bullet train. This time he didn't pull out of her; he ejaculated his entire seed deep into her womb. Becca had bitten down on the sofa's fabric, trying not to scream too loud but not succeeding in the end as she felt another orgasmic bombshell explode inside her. It was too late when she realized she wasn't on the pill.

They'd fucked for another hour, by which time she was extremely drained by it, and yet he still had the energy and stamina of a lion. They'd taken a shower together. She'd sponged his body with liquid soap, felt his cock nodding back to life and washed it off too, along with his balls, though for these ones she did the cleaning with her mouth. Her hand caressed her pussy lips while she cupped each of his massive balls in her mouth and sucked one after the other. Feeling satisfied, he'd then pulled her to her feet and dragged her into the bedroom with water and soap suds sticking to their skin. He had her lean over on the bed; Becca's hands went underneath her legs and she held her pussy lips open for him, giving him unabashed view of the pink interior that was her cunt with her juice gushing out of it, enticingly bouncing her hefty bum at him too. Olu grinned at her and came forward and held her down on the bed. He thrust his manhood into her in one quick stroke and within seconds began plugging her pussy like it owned it. Becca had raw ecstasy searing through her nerves like lightning, and with each thrust, it felt like she could actually hear thunderclaps.

"OHH FUCK! OHH MY GOD! FUCK ME, MASTER! OHHHH FUCK MEEEEE!"

Her master grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head backwards just as her voice turned into a piercing wail. Her master smacked her bum on and on till it turned red, grunting heavily while still feeding her his dick. The bout of fucking went on for a good thirty minutes. Her black master fucked her cunt in every which way possible. When it came time for him to cum, he did like in the afternoon and emptied his load into her, after which he then collapsed on the bed beside her. Becca lay there catching her breath, feeling a sensational sore where her pussy was. Her hand slid in that direction and she touched his bountiful cum dripped out of pussy. She turned her head to look at her master and wondered: My God, he's insatiable! I never thought such men like this ever exist anymore!

They fell a***** for more than an hour. When her master woke her up, it was a little past ten. He told her they needed to be someplace. She actually was tired and could have used the *****, but as he was her master, there was no choice but for her to do his bidding. He led her back into the bathroom to clean up and after they'd dried up, he selected from the items he bought for her a blouse that was near transparent and a micro-mini skirt. She wore on a pair of thong panties and a half-cup bra that hiked up her tits; last came a pair of high heels. Olu admired her for a moment and the look on his face told her he liked what he saw. He put on a t-shirt and jeans, and when they were ready, they went downstairs to his car. A security guard had the gate open for him and they then drove off into the city to a fancy nightclub. The rest of the night had gone like a blur before her eyes. She remembered dancing with him ... his hands caressing her ass while they bumped hips to the music ... them sipping cocktails and she gasping as he slid his hand between her legs to cop a feel of her love nest ... them being back in the car, and she giving him head while he drove.

Becca was still recalling all of this and more when her cell phone rang out, startling her. She didn't recognized the number, though knew it was Nigerian. She put it next to her ear and said, "Hello?"

"Did you ***** well?" she recognized her master's voice immediately.

"Oh yes, I very much did. Gosh, what time did we get home last night?"

"A little past midnight," he said. "I've got some minor work to take care of here at the office; I'll close early and be back by noon. I have a housekeeper downstairs. Ask her whatever you need, and she'll get it for you."

"I'd like to make use of your swimming pool, master, if you don't mind. I need to get some sun on my skin."

"Sure, you can. After all, that's what the bikini is for. Don't burn too much though."

"I won't," she smiled at the sound of his caring voice.

When their conversation ended, she got up and went to have a shower. Wearing a bathrobe, she went downstairs and saw his housekeeper there in the kitchen. She made her a cup of coffee, scrambled eggs and some toast. Done with breakfast afterwards, she returned to the bedroom and took out her traveling bag and began replacing the clothes her master had bought for her with much of the ones she'd left England with. She would give them to the housekeeper later to get rid of them for her. Her thoughts then went to Arnold. She wondered how he was doing, if he was finding his new job easy. She thought about calling him right away, but then canned the idea; he wasn't too important to her right now, though she promised doing that later. It was still early for her to go out and take a swim. She reached into her travel bag and took out a Mils and Booms novel she'd brought along to keep her company and went to lie on the bed to read through some pages, hopping for the hour to hurry along.

At 2:25p.m Olu returned from work and drove into his compound. The day was a Friday; business usually was slow on such days and knew it won't kick up till next week. He met his housekeeper who gave him a summary of feeding his guest before he then dismissed her for the day. He left his briefcase and jacket in the living room and went through the kitchen door to the back of the house where his swimming pool was located.

Becca lay stretched on one of the lounge chairs beside the pool under a shade away from the heat of the sun. She'd been soaking herself in its cool, inviting water since noon. She was nearly dozing off when she felt someone shaking her arm. She pulled down the shades she had on and recognizing who it was she broke into a smile.

"Master!" she got to her feet and wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him. Olu gave her soft ass a good squeeze just as she in return rubbed her thigh against his crotch, feeling something there slowly come alive. "I've missed you."

"I'll bet you have. You're really looking gorgeous in this bikini."

"All thanks to you."

"I'll have to keep you close to myself, or else other black brothers would do anything to steal your ass from me."

"I doubt if I'll let them," she said.

"You had yourself a good swim?"

She nodded. "I've already showered. In no time I'm going to get my tan back."

"Africa is where the sun makes its home. In no time, you'll be shining like a bronze statue."

"I can't wait for that to happen." She kissed him again. "I've really missed you."

"Good to know. Come with me, there's a something I'd like to show you."

She wrapped a towel around her body and allowed him to lead her into the house. In the living room, her master motioned for her to seat down and went to a display cabinet. She pushed her wet hair off her face and watched with curiosity as he took from inside the cabinet a hand-held statue of a figure with a double axe-head for a crown. He came and sat next to her and gave her the state to look at.

"What is it?" she asked.

"That is a statue of a mythical god of the Yoruba tribe, which is where I hail from. His name is Shango, the god of thunder. It is from him I bore my name. We Africans are a proud people, Becca. We take double pride in our heritage and lifestyle. Shango, in his time, was a proud warrior and a benevolent god. His ***** runs through my veins; and it is why for you to remain with me, you must listen and obey every word I say to the last. Do you follow me?"

"Yes master, I do follow," she said without compunction.

He went on with his indoctrination. "It wasn't my intention to hurt your husband the way I did yesterday. I merely wanted him to know his place¬—his rightful place¬—he is a white boy and as well a slave. The true African religion states that all white men are subservient to blacks. I know back where you come from you're unaware of such happenings. But down here the opposite is the case. Black men are far superior to the whites in strength, stamina, or even brain power. It's only unfortunate that the rest of the world is yet to embrace this notion, but gradually it will. And with what you've come to know, when next time you return to England, you will tell more people there about how virile the men down here are, and of how loyal your service is to me. Am I getting through to you?"

"Yes, master."

"Prior to your coming here, tell me honestly, have you before being fucked by a black man?"

She shook her head.

"Tell me honestly, have you been enjoying it so far all these times I've been fucking you?"

She smiled happily. "Oh yes, master. I enjoy every second and minute of it. it's been unlike any kind of fucking I've even gotten before."

"Is it anything compared to how white boy Arnold has been fucking you?"

"No. he hardly comes to you. I can't remember the last time I actually enjoyed sex with him."

"And you won't ever again. By the time you return to England, you're going to be a changed woman. No longer will you allow your cunt to be seduced by any white boy prick. You're going to start going out in search for black dicks and black dicks only. And every time you do, you're never going to refuse swallowing their cum. You'd better get used to this, Becca. You're now officially a black man's slut and that's what you'll always be. Your life from now on will be totally different from the one you used to know. Do you get me?"

"Yes, I do."

"Have you ever been fucked in the ass too?"

"Oh my God, no," she gasped. "I mean, I've seen it done in porn flicks. I know too that some women enjoy it. One time when Arnold and I were fooling around, he talked about it—wanting to do it to me, but I shook him off."

"It's a good thing you didn't let him."

"Master, doesn't it hurt?"

"I won't lie to you—it does. But only at the onset. Later on you won't even feel it. You'll even get to enjoy it just as much as you love getting fucked the normal way."

Still there was skepticism on her face. "Well ... I don't know ... I've never tried it before."

"All the more reason why you need to try it now," he urged. "I want to experience everything there is to know about loving a black man, and of being fucked a black man's way. Trust me, you're going to enjoy it."

"You really think so, master?"

"Look at me, Becca. Look right into my eyes."

And she did; she was totally mesmerized by the power that radiated within those brown eyes of his.

"I told you that I'm a descendant from a black African god. One of the strength of all black gods is the inherent will to have any woman they want, regardless of who she is or where she's from. I've had my taste of white women before—I'm not going to lie to you about that—and I can still go out right now and return with another. But there's a reason why I chose you. You're a wanting woman, Becca. I look into your eyes and I see a lot of desires you've wanted to have for so long but have been refused of. What I'm giving you is something most white women out there would die for—the most precious gift of any black man, and that's his cum. I want you to have it in every which you can take it. But for me to give it to you, you've got to be willing to step up and ask for you."

He said all this with emotive passion. Becca was so swayed by his words she could hardly breathe.

"Now tell me, do you want me to fuck you anally or not?"

"Yes," she answered breathlessly. "Yes, master. I want it. I want to have as much of your cum that you can spare me with."

"Good. Later this evening we're going to go out. There are some friends of mine I'd like for you to meet. But first, I need a bath."

Becca went with him upstairs and watched him get off from his clothes. She sat on the bed admiring his muscles, the growth of hair on his chest and arms, the muscle outline of his abdomen ... then her eyes took in his cock which now was as turgid as an evergreen tree, along with his sac of balls. Becca went ahead fingering and rubbing her clit while he neatly put his clothes away. She couldn't help but believe all what he'd told her downstairs. For truly he looked just like a god; he was everything a man ought to be. Suddenly she wished she didn't have the burden of Arnold to live with. Why couldn't she have been a divorcee, or a yet unmarried woman? Gladly she would give anything just to be her black master's slave. She would cook for him, feed him his food, wash his body whenever he takes a shower, and let him fuck her every which way he desired. All this and more she would gladly offer herself totally for him. Worship the ground on which he walked on and even lick the sweat that poured from his body. If she'd known long ago of such men no doubt she would have visited Africa years ago, long before she ever thought of settling her Arnold.

She went with him into the bathroom and picked up the sponge and scrubbed his body as he took his bath. His hand grasped her fatty ass and he kissed her passionately, probing his tongue way deep into her mouth while his cock pressed against her stomach. Done with his bath, they dried themselves up in the bedroom and then he picked up a DVD disc and led her downstairs naked. He inserted the disc into a DVD player and turned on the TV set. Becca recognized the scene of the movie when it came up. It was yesterday's recording on her kneeling before her master and sucking his cock. Olu took the DVD remote and forwarded it to the part when she handed her husband his cock to suck.

"This is the part I like best," Olu laughed as both of them cuddled and watched what was on the screen.

Becca grasped his cock and started stroking it. She came down from the couch and took the head of his cock into her mouth. She took her time sucking him this time. She rolled and coiled her lips up and down his phallus as much as she could. Olu groaned from the sensation her tongue was giving him and held her head and began jerking his hip towards her face, giving her as much of his dick that she could handle.

"Yeah, you're a white slut now, aren't you?" he asked her.

"Uh-huh," she murmured; the look of lust in her eyes was evident. "I'm a total white slut, master!"

She resumed sucking him. Her mouth slobbered up and down his shaft like she was hungry for it, like she would do anything to have it. A moment later, he pulled her up and brought her to mount him. Her body squirmed from the contact penetration and she whimpered helplessly as her soft round butt ground further down his shaft. Her ass bounced up and down hard on him and periodically rocked him from side to side as she couldn't get enough of his cock. Not long they were both grunting like wild *******, fucking with reckless abandon. Olu pushed her off him and brought his hands to her inner thighs and held her legs wide apart. The sight of her expanding pussy was joy to him. He brought his head downward and inserted his tongue between the warm throbbing walls of her pussy. Becca jerked convulsively and groaned from the searing delight on his tongue.

Oh God! Ohhhh my God!" she whimpered repeatedly and tried to push him away but still he held onto her. He nibbled on her tiny puckered clit, sending shockwave after shockwave of lightening and thunderclaps traveling every inch of her body. She couldn't stop herself from reaching her climax.

"Ohhhh ... Ohhhh, master!" she groaned. "Oh please fuck me, master! Please fuck me right now before I lose my head! I want your black cock so bad!"

Deciding he'd given her cunt enough wetness with his tongue, he came up to her and let his cock slid easily into her pussy. Becca wrapped her legs and arms around his back and moved her hips in rhythm to his movement. After a while, he half stood up and brought her legs to rest on his shoulder, giving him more leverage to bang her harder. The muscles in his buttocks flexed and hollowed repeatedly as he drove his cock deeper into her. Becca felt totally fulfilled as she shuddered uncontrollably under him. She allowed him full control of her body, letting him use her as much and as long as he wanted; for her, this was total bliss. He came forward, dug his hands under her bag and gradually lifted her up from the couch. Becca wrapped her legs instinctively around him as he hefted her up and with one hand grasping her buttocks began firing his thick rod back and forth into her virgina. Becca screamed and screamed with high abandon till she just about passed from the recurring bout of climax she was having.

"OH YES! OH YES! FUCK ME, MASTER! OHH FUCK ME, MASTER!"

"You love being a black man's whore, bitch?" he spat the question to her face.

"OHHH YES, MASTER! I'M YOUR FUCKING WHORE!" she screamed out her answer.

"You want me to fuck you every which way, don't you, white bitch?"

"MORE THAN EVER, MASTER. OHHH YOU FUCK ME GOOD!"

"You want me to fuck your asshole too?" he demanded.

"OH YES, MASTER! FUCK MY PUSSY AND MY ASS!"

He firing engine drew to a stop and then he lowered her down on the couch. Becca though she noticed smoke curling out of her pussy. Her black master stood before her, breathing heavy. His face and torso now covered in sweat while his phallus bore evidence of her cum juice. He climbed over the couch and held onto the wall while she ingested his cock and sucked him clean. His eyes squeezed shut and he groaned loudly and pressed her face to his cock as the first spurt of cum shot out of his cock and flooded her mouth, followed by another, and then another. Becca grunted deep in a throat and recoiled each time his cum slid down her throat. She had never had sex this rough or this lewd before. For real she was having the time of her life.

Olu nearly toppled upon her as he came down from the couch and slumped beside her. The recorded movie was still playing on the screen. Sometime later he got up though told her to remain there while he disappeared up the stairs. He returned a minute later this time with his cell phone and an oil lube in his hand. Becca was so tired she could hardly make herself get up. That her master had the sturdy power of a horse was just amazing to her. He'd been fucking her nearly non-stop since yesterday and he looked like he could go another round with her.

He came and sat beside her and started scrolling through his phone contact numbers, and then he asked: "Have you spoken to Arnold since today?"

She gasped as she then remembered the promise she'd made of calling him but had forgotten about it. "No," she said. "It slipped my mind."

"Well don't sweat it. It's his number I'm about to call now. Let's hear of how his white boy ass has been doing at work. Are you hungry?"

"Right now I'm starving."

"Don't worry, we'll get you something to eat. And then after that, when you're strong enough," he smiled and showed her the lube tube. "I'm going to dis-virgin that pretty ass of yours!"

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

They didn't go out anymore. Becca was totally worn out for their last bout she could barely stand to her feet after he was done with it. Olu had made her something to eat, after which they'd both retired to the bedroom to ***** the afternoon off. Even as she lay in bed with her legs curled up her body, there was still the throbbing pain coming from her asshole. She was calm with it now though, knowing it had reduced, but it still felt as if she'd had a train rammed up her anally. Though in this case, the train had only been her master's thick cock thrusting its way deeper and deeper through her sphincter muscles. The pain had been enormous ... but afterwards lovingly fun.

She'd chatted with her husband on the phone earlier before Olu then took her.

"Hey there, honey," she'd said when her master handed her his phone. "How was your first day at the job?"

"My first day went fine," answered Arnold. "The Operations Manager was on hand to show me around, and I got to shake as much hands as I could. But they've given me an office, and it's got just about every communication gadgets here that you can think of. The job's really great."

"That's wonderful, I'm so happy for you."

"And how about you, darling. How're you holding up over there?"

"I'm doing just fine, spectacularly fine. The master's taking great care of me. He's been showing me much of the city—Abuja is a very lovely place, really. Since you've been gone, I've been having so much fun and he's been spoiling me rotten."

His voice then became tentative: "Has he been ... you know ... making love to you?"

The question drained the smile from Becca's face as she then turned cold. "What you meant to ask is has the master been fucking me. Isn't that what you want to know, Arnold?"

"Well ... umm ..."

"The fuck are you whining about for?" she spat into the mouthpiece. "You know damn well the master has been screwing me since you left. Matter of fact we just stopped fucking a few minutes ago so I can talk to your white boy ass. I've still got his cum running down my pussy, and guess what¬—he doesn't use a condom. And do you want to hear more?"

"No, no ... please ..."

"When I'm done talking to you, the master's going to fuck me again. This time in my cute bunny ass! How do you like that now, honey."

A second passed before the sound of Arnold exhaling at the other end of the line came through. "Oh my God, Becca! Why?"

"Why not, Arnold. Because you just don't give me enough cum, and also because it's what I want. It's what I crave for."

Olu took the phone from her and spoke to her husband. "How're you doing, white boy. This is your master talking to you, white boy."

"Oh ... good afternoon, master," came the reply.

"I'll be sending those items to you next Monday. What I want from you is your email address so I can mail it to you. Wouldn't want your company address either, not unless you want someone else to catch wind of what we're up to, know what I mean?"

"Yes ... yes, master. I know."

"So, how's the work going down there? You getting the hang of things?"

"Y ... Yes master, everything is working out fine. Please, master, is Becca alright?"

Olu laughed derisively into his ear. "Of course she's alright. Weren't you just talking to her a minute ago? What did you think, that I'd locked her up? Your wife's looking fine from over here." His hand groped Becca's round ass while he talked and gave it a good squeeze. "She sure loves sucking cock and fucking too; she just can't seem to get enough of my black cock. I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you, white boy, but she's now a black man's slut. She even told me too how lazy your ass often is in bed, and that you hardly take her out at all. How come you've had this lovely piece of ass all this time and yet don't know how to handle it, white boy?"

"Err ... I really ... we didn't have the money or the time for that," he stammered.

Olu snorted. "Listen to yourself, whining like a school boy whose lunch box has just been stolen. You come from a better world than I do and yet you don't know how to treat a woman right. Maybe you do get here I'm going to give you some pointers on the subject. Tell me you'd like that."

"Yes. Yes master, I really would like that."

"That's good to know. You're a quick learner, white boy, and I like you for that. I've got to go now. We'll talk to you later. Be a good boy now, and keep your white ass out of trouble." Then he ended the call.

Becca got up and knelt on the couch. Her hands spread open her butt cheeks and she winked at him. "Alright master, I believe I'm ready for my close-up now."

Olu picked up the lube tube and poured some on his hand. "Damn right you're ready."

And then he came forward and rubbed it over her ass, inserting a finger into her tiny hole. Becca seemed to black out after that. All she remembered with the lighting pain that erupted on her body as he drilled her asshole again and again with his black rod. The pain had so numbed her senses she could barely hear the sound of her voice screaming. But in the midst of her hurt, her master kept whispering in her ear, encouraging her not to worry, that the pain wasn't going to last. Olu was a pro when it came to ass-fucking and breaking anal holes for the first time. He started out gentle with Becca, breathing heavy with each grunt as he ****** her to take a inch further of him. Becca gripped the head of the couch and bit down on its fabric; the feel of her master's cock fucking her ass was immense and spreading like wild fire within. The pain had lasted all through the screwing session. But in the end, when he finally lavished his cum over her butt, it had been worth it.

The following morning her black master woke her up first with a kiss, then with a tray of breakfast which he'd prepared for her downstairs. He told her that as it was a Saturday he usually gave his housekeeper the weekend off. They sat beside each other and eat; she sometimes fed him from her plate.

"So, what are we going to do today?" she asked him.

Olu took a forkful of egg into his mouth and ate it before answering her. "Today, we're going to visit some friends of mine. Just some old school buddies I'd like you to get to know. I'd wanted us to go see them yesterday, but as you were tired, I pushed it forward to today."

She played with the little growth of beard under his chin. "Okay. Are they as handsome as you are?"

"You'll have to see them first to know," he laughed. "Come on, let's take this tray downstairs and then let's go take a swim. I can sure use the water."

"I'd like that, master."

He wrapped a towel around his waist while she wore on bathrobe and together they went downstairs.

Olu did venture out later in the morning though he promised he would return soon enough. Becca used the time to explore the other rooms of his house, though she didn't find much that would interest her. She spent the rest of the day in the living room watching cable TV and later searching through his DVD collection for something suitable to watch. She felt so alone in the house and deeply looked forward to her master's return.

Olu came back sometime in the afternoon. Becca had fallen asleep on the sofa when he arrived, though he woke her up and together they went upstairs for another bout of sex.

The rest of the day went further on till the evening arrived and the Olu told her to start getting dressed. When it was 8:30p.m, they drove out of his compound and into the city. The city's nightlife was teeming activity. Almost every street they passed there was a club, and from the loud music coming from it, along with the throng of crowd standing by the roadside, things really were looking out for everyone.

Olu drove to a high-rise apartment complex across from Abiola Highway. He parked his car and holding hands, they entered the building and rode the elevator to one of the high floors. All the while he'd told Becca little about the friends whom they were going to meet, and in a way she didn't want to know too soon; that just might spoil the mood. She was wearing a delectable evening dress with sleeveless arms and an open back space and another pair of high heels; she wasn't putting on any bra or panties, except for a teddy, as per her master's instruction. Olu, before they'd left his home, had commented that she looked good enough to eat.

They got to the floor and stepped out into the corridor and made their way down the hall. Olu came to a stop before an apartment door and knocked. The door came open to reveal a black man standing behind in, wearing a Raiders shirt and baggy jeans.

"Ol' boy! How far!" his friend laughed at him as they hugged each other. "Where you don hide since? Man, we never see your break light for long."

"Abeg, no mine me," laughed Olu, still clapping hands on his friend's shoulder. "Too much work is what's got me. The guys, are they around?"

"You no trust them? Sure, they're in."

Becca watched as they bantered and laughed at each other while the friend led them further into the apartment.

There were two other black men seated in the living room waiting for them. They were watching a sports program on the TV when the three of them entered; if Becca was nervous meeting them she didn't show it, though she actually was. Were it not for the comforting presence of her master, she wouldn't dare have set foot into the apartment. Olu shook hands and exchanged hugs with his other friends before introducing them to Becca. The one in the Raider's shirt was called Taiwo. One of the other friends, looking imposing in an evening jacket and black trousers was Kenny. The last was of average height with a shaved head. His name was Mike. He took Becca's hand and kissed his palm; it sent a shiver of excitement up her arm. Olu told her that Taiwo and Kenny, just like him, were of Yoruba tribe, whereas Mike's parents came from Warri, a thriving city located in the Delta region. They took their seats while Taiwo went and fetched the ******. They brought Becca into their conversation, asked her how much she was enjoying Abuja, and if Olu was being a good host. Becca laughed and replied that he was the best.

As the evening wore on the men continued to relax around her. Taiwo went to his stereo set and muted the TV and put on some music. He asked Becca for a dance. She glanced at her master and he indicated for her to go ahead. Taiwo held her closer and ground his hips against her, touching every part of her body as she too danced around him. A while later Mike took over from him and he too did the same, though he went further to grope her ass. She drew closer to him and felt a bulge in his jeans. Kenny came with her ***** and played with her body too while she sipped her ***** and continued to dance between the men. Olu merely sat back and watched. As the music went on they began kissing her. Tentatively at first, then before she had time to think, Kenny held her face and stuck his tongue between her lipstick-coated lips. While she was caught up in the kiss, Mike was caressing her tits from behind her dress. Taiwo came and took her empty glass from her hand and reached a hand under her skirt to feel her naked skin. Becca was moaning in her throat as she felt herself being consumed by the three black men. The sensation she was getting was triple that which her master had been heaping upon her since the day they met.

Taiwo led the way towards the bedroom and the three of them followed; Olu remained in the living room, sipping his beer and listening to the music that was playing.

Kenny had his jacket off his arms and was hurrying to get out of the rest of his clothes while his colleagues pushed the white woman down on the bed and started feeling her all over. They helped her out of her dress till she sat there naked before them. Taiwo and Mike climbed up the bed and quickly had their cocks out of their jeans. Becca took turns sucking their cocks one after the other. What one lacked in length, the other gained in thickness and girth. Her head went back and forth as her mouth sampled each cock back and forth, inhaling the musky smell of their pubic region while she did. Both men groaned from the pleasure they were getting and wouldn't stop urging her to do so. Kenny, having shed off his clothes, came round behind her and lay under her legs and began licking her pussy. Becca now was grounding her hips down on his face at the same time moaning in her throat while she ****** herself to concentrate on her sucking. Kenny licked and probed her pussy with his tongue and fingered her asshole as well. Becca was uncontrollably bucking her ass above his face, feeling a constricting wave of pleasure taking place inside her. She held the other men's cocks in both hands and was furiously stroking them as she cried out her first orgasm for the evening.

"My guy, that's enough!" Taiwo hollered to his friend, Kenny. "No need licking her till she dies. Me, I want to fuck right now."

Kenny came away from between her legs and made way for Taiwo, who now had taken off his clothes and came to position himself behind her. He gave her buttocks a kiss and then grasped her waist as he shoved his cock into her pussy's wetness. Becca had a mouthful of his friend's cocks but still she groaned as she felt him thrust his cock all the way into her; it was like having a lead pipe shoved into her. He fucked her hard and good, hardly giving her a fighting chance to catch her breath. Taiwo pulled her backward towards him and gritted his teeth as he continued ramming his cock all the way into her. Becca couldn't hold back the guttural moans from escaping her lips, and she followed them with some willful pleading.

"Oh my God! Oh fuck me! Fuck me harder ... harder! Give me your big hard cock!"

"Yo, Taiwo, you hear that?" laughed Mike. "The bitch wants you to fuck her hard."

"If it's hard she wants," grunted Taiwo with each successive thrust. "Then it's hard she's going to get!"

Her cries seemed to spur Taiwo on and he kept on hitting her cunt as hard and vicious. He gazed down and smiled at the sight of his shaft disappearing between the ass cheeks of Becca's pussy, loving the sight of her panties lines on her skin. God! How he loved fucking white women. His heart was beating hard against his chest and he eventually had to make way for his other buddies to get a taste of her, least he came too soon.

Mike's turn came next and like his friend, he couldn't wait to get a taste of her. He rolled her onto her back and hung her legs over his shoulders. His cock was sticking between his legs like a straight arrow, and all he did was shift his position a bit and then it found its way into her treasure. Becca grabbed his shoulders and cried out as his cock sank all the way into her cunt. The walls of her cunt seemed to wrap themselves around his shaft like a hand glove. Just like his friend, he too wasted no time banging the daylights out of her, grunting steadily while he did. Becca wrapped her legs over his back as if for dear life and screamed repeatedly over his shoulder. Mike's balls kept slapping against the bottom of her ass; his friends exchanged snide banter while they stroked their cocks and waited for his turn to be over. Mike went on slamming down on her cervix hard enough to bring her shrieking to a second orgasm. Even as her body shuddered under him he kept on fucking her hard; his lips gave her a smooching kiss, grunting down her face at the same time. Suddenly his lower body began to tense up. Becca realized he too was about to cum and she pressed his body down on hers.