Did she have a hidden agenda? Was her desire to dominate white men driven by some racial hatred or need to seek revenge for her enslaved ancestors? By all outward appearances, that would appear to be the case. But Mistress Desire was far more complex than superficial appearances would allow. Black, strong, confident, and proud, there was no mistaking that the Domina was proud of her African heritage and took pleasure in reducing her white submissives to whatever it was that they feared the most. There was a certain subtlety she possessed that could not be defined by labels.
She chose to meet him in a very public bar. It was a gay bar in fact, and it was on the evening of the citywide famous drag show. Queens weren't the only people in attendance, butches, studs, lipsticks, straights, bisexuals and everyone in between showed up to revel in the god damned decadence and defiance the night represented. Anyone who wanted to thumb their nose at the status quo and acknowledge that they couldn't be defined sexually by the strict and puritanical morals of the Bible belt felt comfortable showing up. There was plenty of hootin' and hollerin' for the glammed up female impersonators doing yet another rendition of “Rollin on the River” and “It's Raining Men.” Her date for the evening did not fit in that category. After hours of subtle interrogation, she had determined that his greatest fear was being seen for who he really is. He was an introvert, a social recluse of sorts that wanted to keep his desires hidden from everyone, including himself. Inside, he was a slut. Not just any slut, a slut of the most insatiable, perverted, depraved kind. He wanted someone to force him to bring out his dark fantasies and help him to become who he felt he really was inside.
She was taking a chance that he wouldn't show but she was betting that the chemistry and the desperation he felt to fulfill his desires would be motivation enough for him to make the leap into the unknown. She positioned herself at the far end of the bar at a table where she could see him enter. If her assessment was wrong and he didn't show up, she would entertain herself with the spectacle of others that wanted to exhibit their sexuality for the entire world to see. He hadn't cum in over three weeks and he had been nightly aroused with descriptive tales of her fantasies and desires. The Internet and the phone were vastly different than the adventure he was about to go on however.
Stevie Wonder could have seen him walk through the front door. Nervous as hell, he looked around the place needing only the tiniest of excuses to turn around and leave. The promises of mind-blowing strapon anal assaults and wild, uninhibited sexual release propelled him to move forward. He spotted her immediately. She didn't have to signal for him or make her presence known to him; she exuded the regal stature whereby he knew her immediately. He made his way to her table and she had his favorite drink waiting for him. He downed it with one gulp and nervously looked around taking in all the sights.
“Brian, did you do as I instructed?” He lifted his arm that had been lying casually in his lap above the table and showed his baby smooth, hairless body; the only hair remaining on his body being under his arms and above the neck. She placed her hand under the table and felt for the evidence of his other command. Apparent through his clothes was a harder than steel erection and the telltale signs of a cock ring. He swallowed hard as she stroked him through his clothes, knowing full well that he couldn't cum restrained as he was. They settled back and began to converse; controlling the flow of the exchange with her eyes and her will. He knew he was being dominated and it was more than sexual.
She draped her legs over his and he instinctively began to massage her silken calves. He swallowed hard as he glanced down and realized that her pussy was exposed just inches away from him under her short dress. “Listen, can we get out of here? I did what you asked and I'm just not comfortable here,” he stammered, his eyes darting around the room to make sure no one he knew was there. She laughed politely and ignored his comment, stroking his exposed arm and caressing his face with her soft fingertips.
As the lights dimmed and a slow song began to play to supplement the time between performances, they were interrupted by the most breathtaking Black man in the bar approaching the table. Dressed impeccably, not a bit shy of 6'2”, masculine, and looking like he stepped off the pages of a magazine, he extended his hand to the nervous submissive and said, “Would you care to dance?”
“No thanks, I'm not gay,” Brian managed to eek out, looking like a dear caught in headlights more than unassuming business professional that wielded so much confidence at his place of work.
“He'd love to,” Desire answered, moving her legs and placing her submissive's hand gently in that of his suitor's.
He was in a state of shock. He had specifically told Mistress Desire that he wouldn't do anything with another man. He was straight. The confusion in his eyes, the panic, the anger overwhelmed him. He had limits that were not negotiable. Being submissive and being gay were too different things. “He stood firm on his decision, “No thanks,” he said with determination, “I'm not gay.”
He reached for his keys in his pocket and began to stand. “Listen, I don't know what sort of games you are playing but I'm not interested, Go fuck yourself bitch.”
Desire laughed at his defiance and placed her hand gently on his arm and leaned in close. Her voice was sweet and gentle. “Brian, you are standing on the verge of all of your dreams come true. Before you leave, think about everything that we've been through to get to this point, are you willing to throw it all away for a dance? Think of all the nights online where your heart felt like it was pounding out of your chest and you were begging me to use you in any way possible. Think about the things you went through to gain my favor. You know I'm the only woman that can push you past your fears. Are you ready to throw that all away for a silly little dance? If you leave, you'll go home and jerk off in solitude dreaming of the things that could have been. Do you want to do that Brian? Do you want to abandon the potential for your wildest fantasies to come true?”
Her voice never went above a whisper. “You can leave you little bitch but don't you dare think of contacting me again. Think about trying to find another Mistress like me that will make you feel like the depraved dirty slut that I bring out in you. Haven't you always wanted to be the submissive bitch boy to a superior Black domme? The night of indescribable sensation that you've waited for is there for you. All you have to do is dance. Go! I won't think about you ever again, but can you say the same thing about me?”
The synapses in Brian's brain were misfiring. He was pissed and aroused. The gentleman waiting for the dance chimed in, tired of waiting and said, “Listen, don't worry about it.” He turned to walk away.
“Wait,” Brian said meekly. Desire leaned even closer, the warmth of her body penetrating Brian's aura. She whispered something in his ear and leaned back. Brian stood, fighting back the tears, and said with defiance in his voice, “Wait, I'd love to dance.” He knew that the dance was not the not to be the end of his test.
Slightly shorter than this beautiful specimen of a man before him, he didn't even know where to place his hands. His dance partner took control. He placed Brian's arms around his neck and pulled Brian close. Brian swallowed hard, his frustration showing in the color in his cheeks. The alcohol in his system allowed him to relax just enough, knowing that this humiliation would be over in less than three minutes. He shut out the people around him and danced, it was more like moved to the music; he was never really that good of a dancer. Brian had to hold on to reality. He was getting confused. The arms around his waist made him feel sexy. A feeling of security and arousal enveloped him. The sexy black shoulder that he rested his head upon was comforting. He could feel full lips brush against his neck and he yielded to the temptation to moan ever so slightly at the sensation. Strong Black hands caressed his ass. He froze momentarily; his ass had always been a highly erogenous zone for him but he made sure that he only fantasized about women taking him there. But behind the safety of his closed eyes, in the secure embrace of the beautiful man that held him, he erotically thrust his ass back and forth, fantasizing about being fucked by his Mistress later on. The hands grabbing his ass were forceful and he loved the sensation of being taken . . . forced, which only cause him to grind his ass harder and harder against his dance partner.
“Uhmmm, the song's over. Would you like another dance?” Brian was snapped back into reality.
“No . . . hell no! I was just dancing with you because . . . No.” Brian knew his defensiveness was transparent but he had to maintain his façade of defiance if only for his own sense of well-being.
Back at the table, Mistress Desire chuckled as Brian slid into the seat next to her. The Black gentleman slid into the booth across from them. “You were so right Desire, his little cock was hard the entire time. And the way he was grinding his ass on me, I can tell he's going to be one hot fuck.”
“I told you his slutty side would come out, Derrick. When will you learn to trust me?” Their laughter burning his ears like acid would burn his flesh. They were sitting there causally discussing his little cock, his slutty nature, and the plans that they had made to in advance. Brian was incensed. He fumed at the thought that this was all a set up and he mumbled something under his breath. He stood to rise and leave when the gentleman said, “Sit down, bitch. We didn't tell you that you could leave.”
A lump formed in his throat as Brian felt helpless to move. His cock had no such limitations. It was raging hard and hurting from being constrained as it was. The casual power that the Black man had over him at that moment made him feel like the submissive slut he had longed to feel like. He wondered momentarily if they had slipped something in his drink to make him have . . . you know, those kinds of thoughts.
“What's going on here? I thought . . .,” he was mumbling incoherently. Desire giggled and ignored him momentarily.
“Oh, forgive my manners. Brian, I would like you to meet Derrick. He's my lover. We like to play together. He's the male version of me, don't you think? Derrick. . . you've already met Brian.” The rapid eye movement of Brian indicated confusion. “You didn't honestly think someone as breathtaking as him would actually be attracted to someone like you, did you?” She laughed even louder, Brian afraid that her amusement would be draw attention to them. He felt unattractive with her comment but that somehow aroused him even more. He wondered what people would think, a white man sitting there with two Black people. He was sure everyone in the place could read his mind. Brian couldn't even discern his own thoughts at that moment. All sorts of thoughts ran through his mind about what the two of them had in mind for him. He feared the outcome if he decided to let them go through with their plans and he was terrified of letting the extreme sensation of arousal that he was experiencing go.
For years, his attraction to Black women had consumed his every fantasy. He loved their strength and their assuredness. He loved their comfort and sophistication. White women hadn't aroused him in the better part of four years or more. They were insignificant to him except on the rare occasion he fantasized about having a white wife that would be a slut for black cock. Occasionally, he would dream of having a white wife that craved huge black cocks fucking her mouth, pussy and asshole unmercilessly while he served the Black wives of those men in whatever degrading or humiliating ways they saw fit. Those thoughts didn't seem realistic, his conservative wife would never think of such things, so he dismissed them as a fleeting fantasy. He was comfy defining himself as submissive to Black women. A submissive of the most extreme proportions. If he were to allow himself to be honest and frank about his own desires, there had been many nights he has dreamt of being forced to be a cross-dressing sissy for Black cock, but he wanted to be “forced” so he could absolve himself of the guilt of desiring those yummy Black studs. He allowed himself to freely fantasize about Black women all the time, and all the things that he would do for them.
“Let's go,” her directive was simple and to the point. Out into the night air, Brian had more reservations. All the “ifs” and the “what ifs” and logistics were causing him to panic. He stood helpless, like a child, waiting for further instruction. They were in control.
Derrick and Mistress Desire kissed in the darkness and shadows of the parking lot. They held hands and ignored Brian but they were ever aware of his presence behind them as they made out while he watched. They approached an SUV and opened the back door and Derrick turned momentarily to tell Brian to get in. Other than that, they were ignoring him as if he was insignificant to their arousal. Brian, on the other hand, was mesmerized watching them kiss. Their skin looked so . . . different. They seemed so . . . powerful. It was intoxicating to watch them together.
He stepped in the back seat and closed the door behind him as he regretted not telling someone whom he was going to meet, getting some significant contact information from this woman in case something went wrong. Derrick drove while he and Desire chatted and laughed and occasionally looked in the rear view mirror. He went to adjust his cock as it had been hard for hours before meeting her and the dull ache in his nuts was a sweet and painful reminder of that fact. He wanted those nuts to be kicked, slapped, and twisted at the hands of the gorgeous mistress that sat in the passenger side of the truck in front of him. His boypussy was throbbing thinking about being fucked savagely. The pair in front of him seemed so sensuous, so oblivious to his presence, he wondered if they would forget about him and leave him to stroke his hard cock while he watched them make love or if he would be allowed to cum at all.
His thoughts were about to be answered as they pulled into the driveway of a lovely home. It was secluded and well maintained and more fears crept into his mind. He had more fears and more fantasies of what was to come as well. Desire slid the door open and said, “Get out.” He complied eagerly, in a fog of lust at that stage from the hours of pent up arousal.
As he stepped into the night air again, Brian felt more alive than he had ever felt in his life. Mistress Desire circled him, her body close without touching him. She ran her nails along the side of his face lightly, sending chills down his body. “Undress,” she said calmly.
Brian looked around confused. Surely she was not going to make him undress in the driveway. It was too early in the evening; people were awake, watching television, someone might see.
As if in a trance, Brian began to undress in the middle of the driveway. Derrick had entered the house and was nowhere in sight. He wasn't sure what to do with his clothes so he folded them as he undressed and placed them in a neat pile on the ground. He removed his shoes first, feeling more comfortable with that accessory than a major piece of clothing. He removed his shirt next. At that moment, he wished he had the smooth, rippling muscles that most black men seemed to have and he felt ashamed of his pale complexion. Next to go were his pants. His tightie whities bulged obscenely in the front from the erection he was sporting and the cock ring in place. He pulled his socks off and stood in anticipation of his next command. He felt even more naked because he was hairless. Somehow it made him feel more vulnerable.
“I said undress.” Her voice was so damned soothing and melodic, he felt helpless to deny her anything.
He slid his underwear down, his erection bobbing in the night air. Even at full erection, he was barely six inches. He always told inevitable Internet lie that he was six inches erect but that was only in the most extreme state of arousal. Tonight, he was convinced he might be a little more than six even.
Mistress Desire stroked his cock in the cool night air. The sensation was indescribable. Her hands were so soft and silky, he was under her control, people could be watching and he knew that he had planned a night to explore his wildest fantasies. He moaned out loud as she stroked him with skill.
“Tell me what you want, Brian. Tell me why you are here.”
The words came tumbling out of his mouth as if they had been rehearsed. “I want to be used by you, my superior Black queen. I want you to put me in my place as the inferior white boy that I am. I want you to take out your frustrations on me and make me your bitch. Humiliate me, Mistress. Force me to do unspeakable things. I want you to show me that you have power over me. Use me any way you see fit, Mistress. I belong to you.”
The more he confessed his desires, the more she stroked him. This Black woman, fully dressed, masturbating a completely nude white male in, seemingly her front yard, making him spill his guts. If anyone were looking they would have gotten an eyeful.
“Put your clothes in the backseat and bend over with your hands on the floor of the truck. He did what he was instructed to do and waited even further instruction.
“Let's see if this pussy is as slutty as you claim it is,” she mused.
She spread his ass cheeks and rubbed her fingertip over his hole. He let out a slight moan. His knees were shaking and he was glad that he could brace himself on the frame of the truck, his ass exposed for the entire world to see. Mistress Desire slid her finger in to his unlubricated hole. That was nothing to him, he had gotten so used to fucking himself he actually leaked “pussy juice” as he called it when he was horny. His ass was always ready to be penetrated by a huge, black dildo any time of the day or night. She began fingering him harder, driving him to maniacal fits of pleasure.
She was giving him more pleasure than he had ever imagined. Gone were all inhibitions and he was anxious for more. “Oh, yessssss, Mistress. Finger my pussy, pleaaase.” If her fingers were just a little longer, she could have reached his spot. She knew exactly what she was doing and she worked his pussy like a pro.
She pulled her fingers out of his ass abruptly, causing him to cry out, his moans echoing off the cul-de-sac serenity. “Get on your hands and knees and crawl to the front door. Wait there until you are allowed in.” With that, she walked away up the walkway and entered the home.
Brian was lost. He stood shakily and closed the truck door quietly, hoping not to draw any more attention than his previous moans and display had garnered. He willingly got on his hands and knees and crawled on the walkway to the front door. His hands and knees ached from the concrete but he relished the pain in anticipation of his fate to come. He knelt submissively at the door and waited. He suspected that they were watching him so he posed like a prize animal at a show. He arched his back and thrust his ass high in the air, showing that he was ready for anything. He lowered his head in submission, to prove that he was lowly and insignificant. His erection couldn't be seen in his kneeling position but it was red from arousal and restraint. He wanted to be beautiful to all the eyes watching him, to whomever they may have belonged. He didn't care if the nosey neighbors saw him, in fact, he wanted them to see him for who he really was. He wanted to be on display as a submissive to Blacks and he was proud of that fact.
In an instant, the porch lights were turned on and he was flooded with light. He maintained his composure and pride, sticking his ass out even more and lowering his head to the ground. His asshole was throbbing and desperate for penetration and his soul craved humiliation. At that moment, the door opened and he heard his Mistress command him to come in. He crawled forward with confidence and agility.
She stroked him like a pet, running her hands through his hair and down his back. Brian purred like a kitten and humped the air like a bitch in heat. She placed a collar around his neck but he was afraid to tell her it was a little too tight so he suffered in silence. It was a good discomfort, one he would gladly suffer for the Divine Mistress that stood above him. She put a leash on his collar and pulled him in the direction of a back room. The carpet under his knees felt good compared to the concrete but the pain in his nuts was ever present.
She opened the door to a playroom and pulled him in unceremoniously. The furnishings were sparse but there was no denying it was a room for hedonistic desires. Not quite a dungeon and far from a spare bedroom, there were toys and tables, and chairs that had been designed for play. Derrick was there, naked and erect, oiled and glistening, a vision of ebony perfection. She dropped the leash and commanded Brian to stay, like a puppy being trained. Desire and Derrick conspired, whispering and planning what to do with their toy. Derrick assisted her in undressing, the way they interacted making them look like dancers more so than anything else. Her body was a work of art. Her skin looked like the smoothest velvet and her curves were a sculptor's dream.
She walked over to a table and picked up a strapon. Derrick helped her put it in place as Brian began to whimper unconsciously at the thought of what was to come. “Silence, bitch,” as she continued to secure her harness and what looked like a nine inch black dildo to her sleek frame. Brian was dizzy with lust and confusion.
Desire sat in a chair and motioned for Brian to come closer. “This, my pet, is going to be very simple. You are going to suck my dick until you prove that you are a cock craved whore and then you are going to get your slutty white boycunt pounded by the most formidable Black cock that you've ever seen. Does that sound okay with you?”
Brian nodded furiously as he was anxious to get underway. She leaned back in the chair casually and Brian took in every inch of her beauty. Her face was a face that could launch a thousand ships, her body was athletic and toned. Her nipples were dark and puffy and Brian longed to feel them in is mouth. Her legs were out of this world. They seemed to go on forever. She stroked her strapon like it was real flesh. He approached her with confidence. He had sucked his own toys enough to know exactly how to do it. He had prepared himself to deepthroat dildos that didn't look humanly possible to swallow.
His assault was calculated. He wanted to show her a cocksucker like she had never seen before. He had often fantasized what it would be like to have such a huge dick and he had practiced sucking his toys the way he would want his cock sucked if he were a black man. He maintained eye contact with her as he began to lick sensuously up and down the shaft. He licked the head and circled it with his tongue and began stroking it with his hand methodically. He licked up and down the shaft, inching his mouth closer and closer to the sweet pussy that lay underneath, the scent of it making his little red cock leak profusely with precum. He placed his mouth over the head and began his descent. Barely more than half of it was in his mouth and it was already hitting the back of his throat. It was thicker than he had ever sucked before but he was determined to show her that he was a good slut for her.
Her words fueled his passion to do an even better job. “Come on you dirty white cocksucker, show me what a slut you are for my juicy black cock. Suck my beautiful black dick. Tell me you love it.”
He went into a cocksucking frenzy. “Yes, Mistress. I'm in love with your big, black cock. It tastes so good in my mouth. I love being your white cocksucker. Feed me your cum.” He was sucking harder and faster, taking it deeper and deeper. His spit was dripping down the side; he wanted to be like the white whores he saw in all the videos that gave messy blowjobs.
She grabbed the back of his head and forced him all the way down on her “cock.” He choked and gasped for air and he felt like he was going to pass out. The head of the black toy was deep in his throat and he felt like he was going to puke. He kept sucking. He sucked and she pumped until they were in a rhythm. He was taking every inch down his throat in every thrust. Every time she would let him up for air, she would ask him, “Do you want some more?” He nodded affirmatively but he eagerness was evidenced in the fact that he wouldn't stop sucking and licking that sexy black strapon.
“You're ready to get your pussy fucked, aren't you?” He nodded uncontrollable, only stopping for a few seconds before he continued to lick and suck and swallow her strapon. “Derrick, get him ready for me, will you please?”
Brian froze for a second. He was past the point of pretense or care and all he wanted was to be used. He arched his back as he felt lubricant being poured on his hole. Derrick's fingers were longer, thicker, and penetrated him more completely than Desire's fingers had previously done. He moaned in appreciation of the stimulation and sucked that much more. She kept taunting him with her words,” you want to get fucked by a big black cock, to be a white faggot whore to be used by the Superior Black race, don't you?
He didn't have time to answer. His mouth was crammed full of the strapon and he was sucking it like a whore. At that instant, he felt the head of Derrick's dick at the entrance to his pussy. He reached his hand back to feel its size and to guide it in but he wasn't prepared for what he encountered. It was as thick as a beer can and twice as long.
“Noooo,” he cried out, “I can't take that, please no.” The words coming out of his mouth rang of fear but his heart told a different tale. He craved the pain of being used by Black people to rid him of his horrible guilt, to make him feel as inferior had he knew himself to be. He wanted to be fucked like a white rag doll and he wanted to earn his punishment. The head burned as it penetrated him and he turned back to suck the strapon to distract himself. Desire had unhooked the dildo and spread her legs wide and presented him with her wet slit.
Brian was experiencing sensory overload. A Black man was about to fuck him with the biggest black cock he had ever seen and before him was a sexy Black woman shoving her pussy in his face. He cried out, “Fuck me. Fuck my mouth, Fuck my pussy. Use me. Fuck me!!!” Tears formed in his eyes. He was lowered to a mass of flesh and lust at the hands of these Ebony gods.
The cock in his ass pushed its way past his sphincter and deep into his bowels. It hurt. It was the kind of pain ushered in by the grandest pleasure. The sweet, sexy pussy in his face tasted like heaven. He felt what he previously thought was impossible . . . Derrick's balls were firmly against his own. He was impaled on that massive meat.
He licked the clit in his face furiously as he wanted his Mistress to come in his mouth. “More . . . more . . . more,” he kept chanting.
Derrick began slapping his ass and calling him names and it sent Brian into a lust-driven high. The pounding was harder now, he was being fucked without mercy. His guts ached, his prostate had never had that sort of stimulation and he was eating the wet musky cunt of his sexy Nubian Mistress. His tears were uncontrollable. His balls were aching. He started stroking his own cock uncontrollably as he unsnapped the cock ring and let out a cry. His cum exploded from his prick as Desire held his head to her spasming pussy and Derrick unloaded blast after thick blast of thick, hot cum in his well used pussy. He passed out from the pleasure and the pain.
It was early morning when they dropped him off at the parking lot of the gay bar where they met. They had used him in so many delicious and unspeakable ways he couldn't remember them all. They were kinder to him then when they first met, treating him like a pet now more than a plaything. He was desperate for some sign that he had pleased them. “Will I see you again? Would you like to use me some more?” The longing in his eyes a telltale sign of the delight he had taken in being fucked so completely.
“Know that tonight was child's play compared to what you will experience again,” Desire said. They drove off into the early morning, masters of dominant pleasure.
Copyright 2004 AfroerotiK
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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 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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