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It had been two weeks since Brian's adventure and he hadn't been able to keep his mind off the events of that memorable night. During meetings at work, he would drift off in fantasy to the words that Desire last said. “Know that tonight was child's play compared to what you will experience again” He had flashbacks. Was it possible that he did the unspeakable things his mind's eye recalled? Eating black pussy, sucking big, black cocks . . . real and unreal, begging to get fucked and craving humiliation and abuse. At times, he could pretend that it was all a dream, that it hadn't really happened at all, but the desperation he felt to experience it again, the emptiness he felt inside, the longing to submit to his divine Black queen and do whatever she demanded haunted his every thought and desire. In his mind, it played out like a movie. He could see himself in the action. He could see the way he swallowed Mistress Desire's Strapon like a slut. He could see Master Derrick's huge cock as it invaded the deepest part of his bowels and gave him indescribable and forbidden pleasure. He could see his transformation from mild mannered, unassuming white man to submissive white bitchboi slut, with an insatiable need to be used and humiliated by Blacks. His mediocre life almost had reason while he patiently waited for the next email or instant message from Mistress Desire to let him know where his next adventure into dark passion would take him.
One side effect the experience had on him was a boost to his libido. His previously boring and dull sex life with his wife had been resurrected. His love making become nothing less than inspired and she was never more satisfied in their entire eight-year marriage. His mind would fill of images from that night. His erection would become like steel and he would practically fight to keep from blurting out that he was submissive to Blacks to the blonde mother-of-two that lay beneath him. He was inspired by the intense desire to shock his card carrying, Junior League, PTA white bread wife with the revelation that he had eaten the hairy, black cunt of a sexy, Ebony mistress and he loved every second of it. He would pound away at his wife, making her moan for the first time in years, thinking of the look of horror she would have on her face knowing that he had begged like a dirty whore to get fucked savagely by a black stud. He would imagine that Desire would be whispering in his ear that his cock was pathetic and could never satisfy a woman the way Derrick's massive ebony weapon had satisfied his slutty pussy as he humped up and down on the unsuspecting woman white women that had ceased arousing him years ago. Fantasizing about hearing Desire's melodic voice in his mind, feeling her sensuous touch, and inspired by the beauty of her smooth chocolate skin, Brian could resign himself to the life he was sentenced to live and make due with the cards he had been dealt.
Those fantasies came to a crashing halt the second he walked through the door one day after work. The envelope sat plainly on the kitchen table when he arrived home. It was so ornate, so elaborate, it was difficult to miss. He initially assumed it was for his wife but was compelled to inspect it. The hand calligraphy clearly spelled out his name and the expensive bronze envelope with sealing wax looked like it could have been an exclusive invitation to Prince William's coronation or something. Brian held the envelope in his hand and panicked. He knew the origin of the envelope even without a return address. It wasn't postmarked so he had to assume it had been hand delivered. His wife surely put it there so there was no way he could conceal it from her. Perspiration formed under his arms and he began to hyperventilate. He could hear his wife moving about upstairs and he knew from routine that she would be done momentarily to greet him.
“Honey, I'll be back, I forgot my briefcase at the gym . . . I'll be . . . be right back,” he yelled up the staircase as he clutched the envelope tightly.
“Wait, tell me what's in the envelope before you . . . leave,” the last word barely audible over the slam of the carport door. He sat in his car motionless for a second. Maybe he would just drive away and never come back. No, he needed to get revenge on that bitch for trying to destroy his life. She would pay for this and pay dearly. He backed out of the driveway not sure if he would even have the nerve to return home. He had nothing but the clothes on his back.
Why had he been so thoughtless, so stupid? He jeopardized his marriage for a night of lust. At the time, it seemed so imperative to him to fulfill his fantasy. The thoughts of his submission to Black women had been growing for years. Everything about Black women seemed to reek of sensuality. He had long since stopped looking at porn sites with white women. Actually, his fascination began when he stroked his cock looking at videos of white women getting fucked by huge black cocks, usually in the ass, at the numerous black on blonde sites. At first, he just wanted to see if the myth was true. Assured that it was, he became mesmerized with black sexuality. Somehow, some way, he would get confused. Sometimes, he would imagine that the white whore on the screen was his wife. Scared by that thought, he somehow began to imagine himself as the white slut. He would see those white women on the screen, screaming and moaning and begging for more black cock as they were being gangbanged and he would wonder what it felt like to be the object of such intense sexual pleasure. His mind couldn't handle the confusion he experienced so he went searching the World Wide Web for images of Black women. He found true love.
Black women were his obsession. Their skin, their asses, their pure, unbridled passion seemed to be the epitome of sexuality. At first, any Ebony site would do but he quickly learned that most adult sites with Black women were low quality and showed Black women in the worse possible way. He was only interested in sites that portrayed Black women as the goddesses he knew them to be. AfroerotiK was his absolute favorite; he could look on with awe and inspiration at the gorgeous images of Black sexuality. He then began using various chat rooms and online communities to find Black women with whom he could converse. He was interested in Black women that were at least of his educational level and not just trying to get paid for fucking. He was willing to pay, he felt it was his obligation to lavish a Black woman with gifts but wanted to do it as a tribute, not as an exchange of goods and services. Bottom line, he didn't want a hooker, he wanted a mistress.
That's how he found Mistress Desire. She was a member of a yahoo group called love_ebony_women. He sent her an instant message and she returned his message with pleasant conversation. Not only was she his intellectual equal, she was his superior. She was a biologist specializing in stem cell research and most of her job description went over his head. For weeks they had developed a rapport and she had initiated him into a world of dominance and submission from which he could not return. She was masterful in her control of him and he found himself doing things he hadn't ever contemplated before. She never raised her voice; she never made outrageous and unreasonable demands on him. She would get inside his head, anticipate his every thought and desire, and push him to maniacal heights of arousal. He craved her humiliation most of all. He would get a perverse thrill knowing that she looked down on him with disgust and contempt.
His cell phone rang and it jolted him out of his memories. The caller ID said it was his wife and he let the call go to voicemail. He glanced at the envelope sitting on the front seat. It looked like it had an aura of its own. “What the hell am I so afraid of? What if it's not even from her? This is crazy. I'm not afraid of her. I'm not going to let her control my life. Whatever is in there I can handle it,” he thought.
He drove out of conditioning to his job. It was still relatively early in the evening so a few people were still lingering about, finishing up projects and waiting for the evening traffic to dissipate before they made their journey to the outer burbs. He moved through the office in a fog, the envelope held firmly in his grasp. He closed the door to his office and loosened his tie. He felt lightheaded. He broke the seal of the envelope and the gilt tissue paper floated gracefully to the floor. He unfolded the envelope to find a hand written note.
“Brian, I do so hope you have a wonderful evening when we met. I warned you that if you wanted to play again, the stakes would be higher. What say you, Brian? Interested in seeing how far you will be willing to go to get your pathetic little prick off again Brian?”
Brian blinked hard. With all that was at stake, with all that he stood to lose, he found himself getting erect. He could hear the sweet timber of her voice and he knew all to well that she knew how to push his buttons.
He continued to read. “You belong to me completely, Brian, that means that anything that you have belongs to me as well. I want your wife Brian. I want to see your wife getting fucked like a slut by Derrick's beautiful black cock. I want to see the look on her face as you kiss my feet, lick my pussy, as you drink my piss and tell me that you love me and you'll do anything to please me. I want her to watch in horror as she sees her dutiful husband slobber and drool over Derrick's black cock and beg to get fucked like a useless faggot. Chez Henri -- Friday night -- Be there at 8:00, bring your wife, and we'll be waiting for you.”
Brian's mouth was dry. More than that, his cock was hard. He went to lock the door of his office and he fell wearily against the frame as he freed his raging hard cock and stroked it, thinking of the things Desire had described. He pushed his pants to his knees and spread his thighs as much as his khakis would allow. He placed his finger in his mouth and sucked it, imagining a more delectable treat. Sufficiently lubricated, he reached past his balls to his asshole and pushed it in. Ever since Derrick had fucked him in the ass, his asshole had become desperate to be fucked. Sometimes, it itched and throbbed in need of a big, black invader. He shot a load all over the carpet as he fantasized about his wife being a slut for black cock, and how Mistress Desire had manipulated him so completely.
Invigorated, Brian regained his composure and he began concocting lies and explanations to tell his wife. He checked his voicemail to get a measure of his wife's demeanor. All seemed well. She was curious but she didn't seem to suspect anything at all. He felt a tinge of guilt for the betrayal he was displaying but his lust and fantasies, and the fear that if he didn't comply with Desire's wishes she might actually do something malicious to him, his marriage or his job kept him focused.
He ran to his computer and used Publisher to create an elaborate looking document that looked like a gift certificate, complete with a fake authorization code and a line for a fake signature. He called Chez Henri for reservations on Friday night and they were booked solid. He asked the maitre d if there were reservations for a Desiree' Jenkins and he confirmed that she had reservations for two at 8:00. He called the corporate concierge for his firm and promised him a hundred bucks if he could get him reservations at the exclusive, five star restaurant on Friday evening. He got a confirmation after only a minute of being on hold. He held his breath as he dialed the number for his wife.
“You won't believe this,” he blurted out before giving her a chance to ask any questions,” I entered this drawing at work about a month ago and I won . . . we won a dinner for two at Chez Henri on Friday night. Isn't that fabulous?”
She started to ask all sorts of questions about the strange demeanor of the man who had delivered the envelope and why he had run out so quickly be he easily distracted her by telling her that she should go to Nordstrom's and buy something extra sexy and that he even thought that she should take the day off an make an appointment for Spa Moulin on Friday afternoon as well. “Make a day of it baby, I want this to be a special night for both of us. We deserve to let our hair down.”
When he hung up, reality hit him squarely in the chest. What on earth was he thinking? How could he subject himself to such a dangerous plan? As much as he fantasized about having a wife that was a slut for Black cock and submitting himself to the machinations of an Ebony Domme, this was too much. He formed a plan that would simply beat Desire at her own game. He was going to show her that he was no pawn to be played with.
He avoided Rebecca the majority of the day on Friday, opting to get his hair cut, go work out at the gym and go buy some Clinique toiletries so that he would feel his most attractive for his . . . masters, no longer able to say mistress solely. His passion was rising and his slutty nature was coming out. He wanted Desire and Derrick to take him places that he had never even dreamt of going. The fact that his wife might be there to watch didn't register in his consciousness. For so many years she wasn't even a part of his sexual fantasies that he was able to disassociate her from his desires. Yeah, he would fantasize occasionally about a white slut wife that would keep him cuckold and submissive to Blacks, but he never thought that it would be the conservative, practically frigid woman that he had only recently begun to enjoy sex with, no thanks to her. In his fantasies it was some other white woman, not the mother of his children.
Rebecca was like a school girl on Friday, giggling and talkative all day long. She was invigorated by the concept of romance in their otherwise loveless marriage. She got a Brazilian wax at the spa, removing every trace of hair on her pussy and leaving her baby smooth. She had decided to go for a sultrier look than usual, empowered by the intense sex she and Brian had been having as of late. She made an appointment at the hairdresser, had highlights put in her hair and got the full makeover at the cosmetic counter at Mac. Brian, already aroused at what he knew was potentially going to happen, practically threw her on the bed when he saw the low-cut, clingy red dress that Rebecca wore, the strappy high heels and the knockout woman that stood before him.
“Your table is ready sir,” the host said as they made their way through the labyrinth of tables with Waterford crystal sparkling in the candlelight. Brian nervously glanced around, practically sick he had allowed his fantasies to control his better judgment yet again. The waiter introduced himself and described specials but he was completely distracted. He saw Desire from across the room, watching their every move, and something deep within him told him that he shouldn't make the first move. She was torturing him and she loved every second of it. At times, she would laugh and draw attention to herself, highlighting the fact that she and Derrick were the only people of color in the entire place. It was an act of confidence rather than uncouth, proving that she was undaunted by the historical implications that suggested that she didn't even belong there, let alone command such confidence and ease.
Dinner was seamless, save the raging hard-on Brian sported all night, and the sorbet course was about to be served. He thought that perhaps that this was to be his only test, to see if he could follow orders. His true desires betrayed him as he felt slightly disappointed that the evening would transpire without the things the Desire had described in her note. The waiter approached and discreetly said, “Ms Jenkins would like it very much if you and your wife would join her and her companion for an aperitif.”
Her back towards the couple all evening, Rebecca turned in her seat to glance towards Desire and Derrick. “Brian, who is she? Do you know her?” She seemed to immediately get uncomfortable.
Brian swallowed hard. “Hmmmmmmm, Oh, yes. I think I do. She is the head of the lab at that research facility where my company updated their network interface a few months back . . . I think,” trying to sound unsure of himself and proud that he was capable of thinking on his feet so well.
“I'm not so sure about that, Brian. Maybe we should decline the offer.” Rebecca seemed nervous and figidity.
“Nonsense, what could it hurt,” Brian said, as he wondered inwardly why he hadn't taken the opportunity to take his wife up on her offer? Adrenaline was pumping in his veins.
Desire stood to greet him with an air of familiarity. She leaned in close and tilted her head back for Brian to kiss her neck. Brian laid a tentative and juvenile kiss on her neck and Rebecca turned a deeper shade of red as she witnessed the act of intimacy right before her eyes.
Derrick stood to greet her. “Rebecca, you look particularly lovely this evening.” He kissed her on the mouth and ran his dark hands down her back and rested them on her ass. This time, it was Brian's turn to show his displeasure. It was a kiss of lovers.
Desire interrupted the embrace and introduced herself. “We've not met, I'm Desiree' Jenkins. You must be Rebecca. Derrick has told me so much about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet the woman behind all those steamy stories.” With that, she leaned in close and gave Rebecca a sensuous kiss that was more appropriate for a porn movie than a high-class establishment like Chez Henri.
“What the fuck is . . .,” Brian blurted out, drawing more attention that the silent kiss had done.
“Brian, sit! And for God's sake don't make such a scene.” Desires' words caused more arousal than calm; the irony of her comments was not lost on the interracial foursome. He was hypnotized by her command and presence.
They all sat as Rebecca and Brian were shame faced and solemn. Desire broke the ice. “Shall we drop the pretenses everyone? Brian, while you've been my cyber slut online for all these weeks, your wife has been entertaining a virtual lover as well.”
Rebecca looked nauseous as Desire continued with her tale. “You see, Becky here doesn't know the identity of her cyber lover, she's only seen him from the waist down on web cam. But she does know Derrick here. They met when he was kind enough to hand deliver the note I sent you earlier this week. Derrick and your cyber lover are one and the same, Becky. I'm afraid we played a bit of a trick on you sweetie by not revealing Derrick's identity to you when you met the other day but you didn't seem to care. You were so hot for Black cock that you were practically throwing yourself at him.” Desire continued with her story causing Brian rage and outrage at the betrayal from both women. “I guess her lust for black men had been fueled by her cyber lover so much that when Derrick showed up at the door, she invited him in, offered him some Iced Red tea and was practically drooling all over him. The kids were in the back yard playing the whole time if I heard the story correctly. Bent right over the kitchen sink and took all 10 inches without missing a beat.”
Brian's heart sank. He knew the story was true. His wife had been on this whole “antioxidant kick” recently and was addicted to a new kind of South African red rooibos tea. Rebecca grabbed her purse and Brian's arm and stood to leave.
“Sit down bitch!” Desire's words sounded so sweet and sexy they effectively controlled the blonde housewife with ease. Brian's face was burning with anger. Damn his cock for being hard at a time like this. He grabbed Rebecca's arm forcefully enough to leave marks. “Is what she's saying true?”
Rebecca pried his fingers from her arm. With tears in her eyes, she choked out, “I guess it is, apparently you know her very well. I wasn't the only one cheating online.”
Desire interrupted. “Oh no, Brian's infidelities were far more extensive than mere cybersex.” She turned to Brian. “Would you like to divulge the juicy details of our threesome or would you prefer me to do that? Better yet, let's go to the video tape, shall we?”
“You didn't tell me anything about a videotape,” Brian was outraged. He had been caught so off guard that he had completely forgotten his counterplans for revenge on this Black manipulatrix. He never saw the shocker coming that his wife would somehow be involved in her scheme. The white couple sat there in a state of shock, not believing that their marriage was falling apart in the most expensive restaurant in town.
“What video tape, Brian?” Rebecca whispered the words softly, the wind taken out of her sails.
Brian sunk into a feeling of calm. He had no control so he just relinquished all of his anger into determination to not let this woman defeat him. Casually, at just above a whisper, he recounted to his wife the short version of what had happened. " . . . . wanted to know if it was true . . . once you go black . . . AfroerotiK . . . shaved. . . dance . . . and for the first time in my life Rebecca, I felt alive." He finished his monologue as he fought back the tears. He was now truly free.
“Becky, your hubby left out a few key details,” the familiar way she called her name dripping with condescension. Not waiting for Brian to fill in the details, she said, “Do you remember how good you felt when Derrick's hard, black cock was ramming your tight white pussy? Well, you and Brian have that in common. He's all too familiar with that sensation as well. And if memory serves me correctly, he was begging and screaming for more. Isn't that right, Derrick?”
Derrick spoke up for the first time since the foursome sat at the table. He was more than just a lackey; he was an equally competent and capable dominator. The effects of his work outs showed beneath the tailored suit that draped his body like it was custom made for him, and obviously it was. Derrick was professing how tight, slutty, and horny fucking Brian was and comparing notes to determine which partner had been the better lay. Brian couldn't hear any of his comments, he felt like he was about to pass out.
Derrick signaled for the check and the waiter promptly brought it to the table. “Would the gentleman like for our limousine to take you to your usual suite at The Ritz this evening?” Derrick threw six crisp $100 bills on the table and said, “That would be fine, and make sure that our guests here have their bill covered as well. That should take care of everything, correct?”
“Yes sir,” the waiter said. Brian was not sure if he could detect a hint of submissive gleam in the waiter's eyes when he bowed graciously and left to signal for the driver.
“Come Becky, let's powder our noses while the boys catch up.” Desire stood and extended her hand to Rebecca. Brian had to stand to let her out of the booth and they two ladies trotted off arm in arm, Rebecca looking back like an abducted child stolen from her father's loving embrace.
Brian stared at the cleared table, unable to look Derrick in the eye. Five minutes passed and he grew more and more uncomfortable with each passing second. He could tell Derrick was staring at him the entire time. “She's eating Desiree's pussy right now, you realize that don't you?”
Brian looked up in shock, his eyes wide with wonder. “There's no way, Rebecca isn't . . . she wouldn't. . . ‘ His voice trailed off, reminded of the things he's been convinced to do and enjoy and Desires command.
Just then, the two ladies returned to the table. Rebecca moved with a casual elegance about her, a certain lightness. She certainly wasn't the same woman that left the table minutes ago. She walked up to Brian and slid in next to him. She leaned over and kissed Brian full on the mouth. There was no denying the taste of pussy on her mouth. He had tasted that sweet nectar before and remembered it all too well. She tasted different, slightly saltier somehow but Brian was intoxicated by the taste. He was lost in his own lustful desires to taste that pussy when he reached for Rebecca's waist and felt her dress was damp.
He backed away and looked Rebecca in the eye. She didn't look away. He glanced at Desire with a confused look on his face. It wasn't possible. There was no fucking way in hell that it was possible. That taste . . . the damp dress. Desire laughed, “I've had so much champagne this evening, sometimes I get a little confused. The toilet is white; Becky's mouth is white . . .”
“Rebecca?”
“Rebecca didn't bother to answer. She took Brian's hand and discreetly shoved it between her pantiless thighs. She was soaking wet. Brian looked at his wife and she was no longer the conservative woman that made meatloaf every Thursday and sold raffle tickets for the PTA. She was a hot, desirable, lustful woman that looked incredible. “I'm horny, hornier than I've ever been in my life. I want to do this Brian. Let's take a chance. If we let go of this opportunity, we may never get it again.” She hesitated a moment and added,”Brian, we are both sluts for black cock and for black pussy, why are we trying to deny it?”
With that simple declaration, everything in Brian's world changed. There was no turning back. His wife of eight years had spoken the words that would alter their realties forever. They were sluts for black cock and black pussy. Brian closed his eyes and opened them to a new reality. He wanted to be baptized with the golden nectar of Mistress Desire; he wanted to be used by Derrick any way he saw fit. He wanted to eat Rebecca's pussy when her belly was swollen and full with Derrick's baby. It was as if in an instant he was a new person.
“Your car is ready,” the waiter announced as he held Desire's chair out. Desire held her arm out for Brian to take and he did so willingly. Derrick slid around and took Rebecca's arm and the foursome walked out arm in arm much differently than they had entered.
The limo was waiting for them at the curb. The driver held the door while they piled in. There was a full bar and TV and all the trappings of a limo but there was a case of openly displayed sex toys there as well. Brian tried not to stare and act nonchalant about it. Rebecca was seated in between Desire and Derrick and Brian sat across from them. The car sat motionless as Desire said, “Brian pull down your pants and bend over, I want to get put a butt plug in you to get you ready for tonight.
Brian froze for a second. It was the exact same feeling he had in the bar. He was angry and defiant but intoxicated with the power this Black women held over him. She owned him and he did what she requested with pride, wanting to show his wife that he had no shame in being such a slut. He slid his pants down to his knees and followed instructions by kneeling on the floor of the limo.
“Becky, I want you to put it in, which one of these lovelies would you like to see in him . . . that one? Why not that one? Yes, I think he would like that one much better.” Brian arched his back. He wanted to take the biggest one there was with ease, to show that he could handle anything they dished out.
His wife inquired about lube and Derrick said, “Damn, we forgot the lube, you'll have to lick his asshole to get it wet or stick it in dry.” Brian froze. He feared that his wife would take out her anger at his infidelities on his unlubed asshole. His fears didn't last long as he felt the soft touch of his wife's tongue on his rear hole. In their entire time together, she had never done anything like that. It felt damn good. She was licking his ass and moaning. Brian glanced around to see that Desire was fingering Rebecca's pussy at the same time. The pleasure he felt was quickly changed when he felt the tip of a gigantic butt plug about to penetrate him. He pushed out, like he was taking a shit, to accommodate the mammoth toy. It felt heavenly, finally filled where he had felt so empty since Derrick has last been there.
“Pull up your pants,” Derrick said. He tapped on the window and the driver opened the door. Everyone looked at Brian and he knew he was expected to get out. He froze. The driver extended his hand and Brian emerged out into the night and turned back to see his wife and her two black lovers fondling her openly. The driver closed the door and opened the passenger side door for Brian. He felt relieved momentarily, until he sat and felt the butt plug in his ass and moaned in discomfort. The driver, a white man that looked to be in his late forties, put the partition up between the front and back seat and pulled his cock out. It was already erect and Brian stared at him, wondering how many times he had done this sort of ritual with Derrick and Desire. The driver seemed happy to just stroke his cock occasionally, keeping it erect as he drove about the city.
The heavily tinted windows shielded them from the rest of the world. Brian was mesmerized by the events of the night. Within the last hour and a half, he had found out that his wife had been having a secret cyber affair with a Black man, that that same black man had fucked her in their very house, he revealed to his wife that he had become submissive to a Black dominatrix and enjoyed taking her lover's black cock in his ass. He had tasted the evidence of his wife drinking Desire's piss and he now had a huge butt plug in his ass sitting next to a man that was jerking off casually while his wife was in the back seat between two Dominant Black people. Brian rested his head on the partition and pulled his own cock out for some stimulation.
He was enjoying the night scenery, the pressure in his ass and the public jerk off he and the driver were sharing when he heard moans coming from the back seat. They were the unmistakable moans of his wife, in the throws of ecstasy. He listened intently. She was screaming now, loudly, without censor. His wife was a slut, begging to get fucked.
Desire turned on the intercom so he didn't have to strain to hear. Every sound was as clear as a bell. “Yes Becky, suck that big, Black cock. It's so much better than your hubby's pathetic little one, isn't it?” Rebecca moaned her affirmation with a mouth full of meat. “You love that THICK, LONG, BLACK DICK fucking your slutty mouth, don't you?” Her punctuation of every word like a knife in Brian's gut. There was more moaning and slobbering. Brian was embarrassed but more aroused than ever. He wanted to hear his wife say that his cock couldn't satisfy her. He wanted her to say that only a big, Black cock could please her. He stroked harder and harder waiting to hear more.
He heard Derrick say, “Look you white bitch, if you are going to suck it, suck my fucking cock you whore,” and he heard the sounds of his wife choking. He knew Derrick had his strong black fingers grasping the blonde hair of his wife and was forcing her down on his stiff erection. He heard the sounds of Mistress Desire slapping her ass and finally Rebecca gasping for air.
“More, give me more of that superior Black cock,” she was screaming and coughing like a wounded animal. Every time he heard the staccato sound of her ass being slapped, her voice went down an octave like she was being transformed into a wild beast.
“Come here you cunt, eat my pussy and you better make me cum.” Brian had tears in his eyes; he was grinding in the seat and humping that butt plug deeper and deeper in his ass. He ached to see the action. “Yeah you white cunt, eat my sweet, hairy black cunt, show Mommy what a good little girl you are.” The words rang in Brian's ears. He visualized his pristine wife of eight years lapping at the silky folds of flesh between the thighs of a Dominant Black woman. He heard her dress rip and he gasped for air. What was happening back there?
“Oh yes, fuck me Daddy. Mommy, make me eat your sweet, juicy pussy. Mommy, I've been such a bad girl, Tell Daddy to spank me hard while he rams that gorgeous fuck stick in and out of my slutty pussy. I'm a bad girl, aren't I Mommy. Only Bad girls like to get fucked like whores by big black cocks and like to eat pussy, don't they Mommy?”
If he hadn't heard that voice every day for the past 10 years of his life, Brian would have sworn it was someone else saying those words. He spit on his hand and stroked his cock even harder. Not ashamed any more, he lowered his pants, removed them and placed his feet on the dashboard. He grabbed the base of the butt plug and tried to push it deeper in while he kept listening to the sounds of his wife getting fucked.
“Want some more piss, slut? Want some more of Mommy's sweet pee?” All he heard were moans. It was barely a second before he heard the unmistakable sounds of hot urine filling a mouth and swallowing, followed by coughing and sputtering. “You bitch, how dare you spill a drop of my precious golden wine.”
“I'm sorry Mommy, but, agraahhhhhhhhhh, Daddy was ramming my white useless twat so hard I couldn't help myself. Let me make it up for you by licking your sexy asshole Mistress. Please, I would love to stick my tongue up your gorgeous shithole. That's what nasty little white sluts like me do, right Mommy?”
The cum in Brian's nuts was about to shoot out of his cock. He was stroking so hard, so fast, moaning louder than his wife. If he could just see what was happening. He heard Desire moaning in sensual delight and the sounds of licking and the unmistakable sounds of hardcore fucking.
Brian heard the sounds of Desire on the verge of orgasm. He had heard those melodic sounds before and they were music to his ears. Derrick was lost in his own pleasure as well, yelling out, “Take my cock, bitch, and take every fucking inch. If you're lucky, I'll cum in your used hole and let lover boy up there lick it out.
There was no turning back. Brian was out of control. His heart was aching. He needed to see the action. The words poured through the intercom, a mélange of voices and cries,” Fuck me, eat my pussy, take this black cock bitch, it hurts, that feels good, more, don't stop, fucking slut, use me . . .” it was a cacophony of erotic words made into a soundtrack of lust and pure, hedonistic desire.
Brian was sure that all four of them came at the same time. Brian captured his cum in his hand and licked it like a greedy slut, careful not to make a mess for the driver to have to clean up. The driver, erect and still stroking himself, concentrated on the road, surely hired for his services for his discretion and his safety.
The car pulled into the driveway of the Ritz. After a moment to pull himself together, the driver opened the passenger side door and Brian stepped out into the night. He opened the door to the back and Derrick and Desire emerged impeccably. Rebecca had the obvious signs of being fucked. Her hair was matted and sweaty, her dress slightly torn, her lipstick smears across and her face was glistening with the telltale signs of cum. At that moment, Brian was sure he had never seen his wife look more beautiful. The doorman held the door for them.
“I'm pleased you'll be staying with us this weekend. If there is anything you'll require, be sure to let me know.”
Derrick tipped him what looked to be a one hundred dollar bill and slapped him on the back. ‘We're expecting six of our friends to show up in a couple of hours. Be sure to show them directly to our room.”
Copyright 2004 AfroerotiK
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