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Disclosure

By: dsoul



Becky flipped through the successive photo snapshots that were in here hand with mounting look of disbelief. She shook her head fervently, muttered 'Bastard' over and over again as she went flipping over the photos again and again till the contents had just about burned themselves into her memory.

"Becks," her lover Gladys called from inside the bathroom where she was at the moment taking a shower. "Becks, is anything the matter?"

Becky couldn't return a satisfying reply; her lips were just too numb for her to think up anything to say. As she was still flipping through the photos, several of them slipped from her hand and spewed over the floor. She gathered them up and carried them along to the bedroom. She paused to glance at her wristwatch which lay on a side table beside the bed. 11:24 a.m. it told her. 

She and her lover had finished a bout of making love less than a couple of minutes ago. Gladys had soon got up and gone into the bathroom to wash herself up while she had decided on a little snooze before thinking about doing the same. Less than a minute later, there'd been a knock on their door. Becky had inquired who it was, but there'd been no response. Her immediate reaction as she rose from the bed to approach the door was fear. Fear that through some unknown means, her husband evidently trailed her and had finally found out her secret pastime. She was supposed to be out of town, visiting her cousin who'd recently put to bed. But instead she was here with her lover of five and a half months now, in a discreet hotel located close to the city's airport

She had remained in bed for up to a minute, hopping to hear another knock. When there wasn't any, she then got up, wrapped a towel over her nakedness and came round and noticed a white envelope sticking from under the door. She undid the lock and glanced out the corridor, but there was no one waiting there to surprise her. Locking it back, she picked up the envelope and unearthed its graphic contents of herself caught in flagrante with her lover in some other discreet spot outside the city they both patronised. The photos undoubtedly had been taken from a room across from theirs, as it showed the two of them locked in each other's arms, naked, on the bed.

Becky gnawed at her fingernail; the fear that was beating against her chest was overwhelming for her to ignore. Her husband was a well known public figure in the city; this would do more than ruin him if ever it got out, but as well ruin everything she could ever manage to salvage from her marriage. My God, what am I going to do now? 

It was at that moment that the bathroom door came open and Gladys stepped out, still rubbing a towel against her wet and scattered chestnut-coloured hair. She had a smile on her lips and was about to say something nice when she caught the distraught look on her lover's face and knew that something had happened.

"Becks, wha --" 

Becky made space for her to sit and go through the photos. Less than a minute later, she too wasn't feeling any happy any longer. 

"Oh my God, Becks. Where on earth did these come from?"

"I don't know. I heard a knock on the door while you were still taking a shower, came over and found an envelope with all these in it."

As they went through the photos individually, Gladys then spotted a cell phone number scrawled behind one of the photos. She pointed it out to Becky.

"You think it's some type of blackmail?" she too had a lot to lose if ever such photos ever got to her won husband's table. How would she even dare to look her three-year old daughter in the face if such photos made it to a newspaper's printing press?

"Only one way to find out," Becky said. She reached for her handbag and unearthed her cell phone from within. She dialled the number and the moment it got picked it activated the speaker phone button for her friend to hear as well.

"Hello," a man's voice answered.

"Hello there," Becky said. "I don't know who you are, but are you the one who happened to slip some photos in an envelope into my room not too long ago?"

"Oh those photos. Did you and your friend enjoy them by the way?"

"Yes we very much did, terribly. So, how much do you want for them?"

"Straight to the point -- I like that. How about you come down to my room and we can then discuss it. I'm in Room 67, a floor below yours. Bring your friend along, and please come soon."

Becky turned to her friend who nodded back at her before she returned to the phone. "Alright, we'll be there in less than thirty minutes. See you." She hanged up and once again muttered 'Bastard' under her breath

"You think he's going to want money?" Gladys asked.

Becky shrugged. "Can't think of anything he's going to want. Though I'm glad I brought my check book along. Come on, let's get dressed and go see who this joker is."

Half an hour later they left their room and took the stairs to the floor below theirs in search of their interloper's room. They soon found it at the other end of the corridor. Becky tapped her knuckle on it, and heard someone from within call for them to come right in, which they did.

There wasn't one man in the room waiting for them but two. One of them stood to welcome them, smiling, while the other stood at the far window staring out the building. They were both dressed causal, though the one by the window had on a bomber jacket and pants, while the other who welcomed them wore a Hollywood Cafe tee shirt and jeans. Becky could easily guess that this was the one she'd spoken to on the phone; he'd never mentioned anything about being here with someone. 

"Hi there ladies," the one in the tee shirt ushered them into the bedroom. "Come right in. I'm Simon, and that there is my buddy, Henry. Yo Henry, turn around will you, the ladies are here."

Henry left the window and came and joined them. The men let the women sit on the bed while they occupied two chairs. Simon offered them something to drink, but they declined.

"What's this shit about those photos you two assholes took of us?" Gladys wasted no second lashing out at them. This only made both men laugh.

"Sorry about us sending those," Henry said. "We just wanted to grab your attention."

"Wouldn't be nice if we'd sent them to your darling hubbies now would it," Simon chipped in. "What I'd like to know is who sent you two?" Becky asked.

"That ought not be what you came here for," Simon answered. "What ought to be in your mind is how the two of you are going to make me and my buddy here lose the negatives of those snapshots before they find themselves in the wrong hands. Get my drift?"

"Fine." She opened her handbag and took out her check book along with a pen. "How much do you gumshoes want for us to have those negatives?"

Henry shook his head. "We don't want money, miss. Though my friend and I could do with a good fuck, if you're both still up for it."

"What?" Gladys gasped.

"You two ain't Lesbos, at least not completely. So here's the deal: give me and my friend a good fuck here and now. And if the fuck's good, we'll leave you two alone with the negatives. Deal?"

Simon didn't even wait to hear their answer as he got up and pulled his half erect cock from within his jeans. He approached Becky and roughly shoved it to her face. Becky had no choice but to comply as she opened her mouth and accepted it. Gladys looked with amazement as her friend, her lover, took the man's cock and went on sucking it without a care in the world. She didn't like it, but as Henry too took out his tool and began waving it in front of her face, she realised she too didn't have a choice in the matter. She took his shaft in her hand, licked her tongue over it, spat over it, before popping it into her mouth. 

Henry held Gladys's face with his hand and went ahead fucking her mouth; saliva poured off the side of her mouth, but still she went on sucking him. 

"Yeah, suck me good you slut," Simon muttered, his eyes half shut as he went on feeling the ecstasy of Becky's lips enclosed over his dick. "Yeah, just keep on sucking it like that. I'll bet you don't suck your old man's cock like this anymore."

Becky couldn't help being stirred into action the more he called her names. Already she could sense her nipples were standing erect and she began unbuttoning her dress to give them some air. Simon assisted her. Henry meanwhile had thrown aside his jacket and was gradually taking off the remaining of his clothes while Gladys still went on sucking him. With his pants now at his ankles, he pulled Gladys up to her feet, roughly turned her around to be on the bed and pushed up her skirt to reveal her panty-hose and ass. He wet his fingers with his tongue and rubbed it against her pussy lips, making her cry out from the contact.

"Got to wet you up some," Henry told her. "You've been fucking a pussy for so long I'll bet you've forgotten what a good cock feels like. Here, let me show you."

He positioned himself behind her and drove his cock into her pussy. He grasped her dress and waistline and began fucking her with earnest. Gladys moaned and cried each time his cock slammed in and out of her.

Simon had succeeded in getting rid of his clothes though he was impatient to wait for Becky to get out of hers. He laid her on the bed, her legs dangling over his shoulders, and pushed his own cock rather forcefully into her waiting cunt. He leaned forward over here, held her legs apart and went on giving her as much of his cock that he could.

Both men fucked and hammered their way into the women like they hadn't fucked a pussy in a long while. The women too couldn't stem down the rush of exquisite enjoyment they were having. It was a shame that all this time they'd been having so much fun with each other, they'd forgotten of just how amazing a good cock could feel.

Simon came off the bed and raised Becky off the bed. His cock slipped out of her now wet pussy, but he managed to hold onto her even as she reached a hand down between her legs and inserted his cock back inside her. Simon held her ass with his hands as she too wrapped hers around his neck and went ahead slamming his cock in and out of her as hard as he could, making her scream aloud, begging for more.

"Alright sluts," Henry announced, "time for a change in dicks. What do you say?"

Becky went to Henry while Simon now had Gladys. Henry and Simon both jumped on the bed and gave chance as both women came and mounted them. The women leaned across to each other. Their lips interlocked in an unsteady kiss as the men went on firing at their pussy from underneath, smacking their asses while they did. Becky leaned forward and grasped the head board of the bed, hyperventilating with loud moans as Henry's cock slammed without mercy in and out of her, driving her to the precipice till she eventually collapsed as an orgasm wracked through her body. Simon turned Gladys over to be on the bed and went on slamming down on her hard and deep. Gladys cried out till she'd just about lost the sound of her voice each time Simon's cock pounded into her till she too went through the same motions as her friend and lover less than a minute ago. 

Both men pulled out from them at almost the same time and came forward, speedily jerking their cocks before their faces.

"Come on you sluts," Simon cursed at them at the same time gasped for breath. "Open your mouths and get ready to receive ... Oh yeah, HERE I COME!"

His last words rose to a deep groan as thick semen shot out of his cock and splattered over Becky's face. Her mouth lady open to receive and she caught a reasonable amount of it, rolling it against her tongue before eventually swallowing the rest. Henry too did the same, spewing some of his wad over Gladys's hair and across her eyes, but she wiped them off with her hand and dipped its semen content into her mouth.

"Come now," Henry urged them. "Both of you share a kiss."

Becky and Gladys turned to each other and locked their lips into a kiss, sharing semen while they did. They licked semen off each other's body as well.

Henry slumped on a chair while his friend went to the other side of the bed and reached into a cabinet drawer. He took out a roll of film and he came over and laid it on the bed between the exhausted women.

"There's our end of the bargain," he said. "Thanks for the good time." 

Disclosures: Cure for BBC



I found myself in a gas station, when I spotted him. Directly across from me, as I pumped fuel into my Accord, he was pumping diesel into his truck. I hoped he'd soon be pumping me. He was tall, handsome and dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt that showed off in muscular arms. He was a black male, which was the real attraction for me. I'm sure most readers know what the term BBC means, but just in case a few don't, it stands for Big Black Cock. It looked like he had it and I wanted all of it. At that time, I couldn't get enough.

I wasn't dressed up that day, but I had on a pair of shorts and as I smiled at him across the lane, he grinned back and looked over my legs, which I posed in a way that he could get a good solid view. I flipped my strawberry blond hair and licked my lips, as I hoped he'd figure a clever opening line. 

After he put the pump nozzle away, he approached. I was excited; I was about to be picked up at a service station; that would be a first. I eagerly awaited his come-on banter.

"You need any help with that?"

Looking back, I'd have to rate that line as better than nothing, but it was good enough to initiate our opening dialog.

"Thanks. But I've got this covered." He looked dejected. I was only toying with him. "Where you could help me out is figuring how large that cock of yours is."

"Damn, I like a woman that goes straight to it. I've got a full ten inches."

"I live a couple miles from here. I'd need to verify what you're told me."

He followed me home and within minutes was in my bed, running his hands all over me. Without a measuring tape, I can't say that it was exactly ten inches, but he was very close. He had shaved his pubic hair, so his cock looked even larger.

My shorts and blouse were tossed onto the floor. I rarely bother with underwear unless I'm purposely trying to be seductive, so I presented myself to him naked. I pulled off his trousers and began kissing the tip of his penis.

"I didn't get your name. I'm Michael."

Due to my excitement at finding BBC, I had not thought to exchange names. It nearly took me out of the moment when I introduced myself. "I'm Shannon. I love your cock." To prevent further unwanted conversation, I swallowed his penis, jamming the stiff sausage as far into my throat as possible. I didn't manage to immerse all of it, but he was impressed by my ability.

"Oh, yeah, baby. That's what I wanted when I first laid eyes on you." 

It didn't take long for me to see that he was prepared for the main event. I disengaged him from my mouth and pushed him back on the bed. I climbed on top and he guided it inside me. I bounded in a rhythmic movement as it rubbed against my clit. I wanted to get in at least two good solid orgasms before he had his and I worked my ass as hard as I could manage.

"What the hell is going on here?" came a familiar voice instantly sending me crashing to earth. I turned my head, as I bopped impaled upon this other man's stiffness, and to my very horror, there stood my husband in the doorway.

He shouted at me and the rest of the incident seemed to go by in a slow motion nightmare. I remember getting off of Michael and trying to cover my naked body. I recall Michael, say something along the lines of, "Look man, I didn't know the bitch was married." Maybe he used the word slut or scank, I'm not sure. Thankfully, he didn't try to fight my husband, Tony. Even though Michael was a powerful looking dude, Tony could have kicked his ass easily. He'd been in Special Forces in Afghanistan and Iraq, before leaving the military and he could take care of himself. Michael dressed quickly and ran from our house. By the commotion, several neighbors saw a half-naked black male running from our home. My reputation would never be the same in that community.

"Shannon, where the fuck are the kids."

I mumbled something about them still being at school and asked what he was doing home. He was supposed to be on a business trip. He said he'd wrapped things up early and came home early to surprise me. Oh, I was surprised alright.

"I swear this has never happened before, baby. I don't know what got into me." I was starting to cry and I felt desperate. I didn't want to lose Tony.

"You're lying. I've seen pictures on your cell phone of you with another black guy."

My stomach turned over. I'd taken a few shots of another man I'd met a couple months ago. We'd had sex a few times. I'd let him take a few more snaps us together with my phone so I could remember him. I was too stupid to delete them immediately. Now I was a liar, in addition to being an adulteress.

There was only one thing I could do at that point. I confessed to my philandering; all of it. I told him about the other black man I'd had sex with a year before. It'd gone off and on for a couple of months behind my husband's back.

I'd first tried BBC in college, a lot of girls do as part of experimenting. It was for the thrill of it. I was that pale Irish-American white girl and it was a high I'd never experienced, fucking someone from a different race and socio-economic background. After my first experience, I was a secret addict of the black snake. My relationships were always with the white guys, but in the background, I craved the dark meat.

For me, sex with a black man was nearly a completely different practice than with a white man. It was almost like making love with another girl. There was an organism, but it just felt different and wasn't completely comparable.

Tony and I fought for the next hour. I tried to defend myself and explain my craving for the allure of BBC, but I knew my actions were inexcusable. In the end, Tony stormed out and we didn't speak for a week. I wondered if our family would fall apart and I'd be the blame for it all.

The neighborhood gossips went into full gear. In the supermarket, I'd see women and a few men point at me and whisper behind my back before turning away from my view. We lived in a small town and it was a tight knit community. I might as well have cut out the letter "A" from red cloth and sewn it onto all of my clothing.

On a Thursday evening, a call came from Tony on my cell. I swallowed deeply with fear as I answered the phone. He could be wind up asking for a divorce; I wouldn't have blamed him.

He started out by reassuring me that he still loved me and he wanted to work things out. "I've found some specialized marriage counselors; would you be willing to go?"

"How soon can we start?" I fought back tears of relief. I vowed to do whatever it took to save our marriage.

One week later, I was told the main element would involve my being completely honest. The counselors were a pair; a man and woman. Over the course of the next two weeks, the focus on our problems turned more and more upon me. In private, I detailed my longing of black cock and the thrill it produced in me.

Finally, the question came that I'd been dreading after weeks of the therapy. "If you reunited with Tony, would you be able to stop having sex with black men?" 

The answer came to me immediately, but I was hesitant to say it, especially in front of my husband. "No, I don't feel I can. It's like a drug to me. The longer I go without sex with a black man, the more I want it."

That honesty would most likely cost me my marriage. Still, Tony deserved the truth. I waited to see what the counselors would have to say.

Mary, the woman therapist, spoke first, "We anticipated that answer." She was an older woman, but still very eloquent and stylish in her appearance. "The need for black penis can be highly addictive for many women. I, myself, was in its grip for several years."

Her partner, Hank, added in, "While there's no technical psychiatric term for the condition, it's sometimes called White Chick for Black Cock Slutism or WCBCS. It more common than most people realize."

"Is there anything I can do to break the cycle of my desire for BBC?"

"Yes, it is a type of Cognitive Behavior Therapy. Much like some anti-smoking programs, rather than trying to stop all together, instead the patient engages in a massive dose of the habit, so much so, that they can't stand to do it anymore."

"So, Shannon, would need to have a large amount of sex sessions with black men to cure her of her need for BBC?" Tony asked, as he lovingly held my hand.

"Yes, your wife is strongly drawn to the endorphins produced by having enormous black cocks placed into her vagina." Mary spoke in a soothing tone. "Only by overloading this impulse, can she finally control those desires." 

"The question for you, Tony, is can you be supported for your wife's need for this kind of treatment?" asked Hank. 

To my everlasting admiration, Tony squeezed my hand and said, "Yes, Doctors, I'll do whatever it takes to help Shannon overcome her compulsion for BBC."

They explained it would take many months of finding black men to fuck me. At the very least, a hundred African American men would be required and the lowest dose would be three or more per week.

My treatment began that very evening. Tony picked out a sexy short skirt and red strapless tube top for me. I had to wear panties under the skirt and in the five-inch pumps I looked the part of a slut on the prowl. We hit a bar in town where there would be plenty of black men and I positioned myself on a bar stool with my legs crossed. 

It didn't take long before a handsome man with a dark mustache slid up next to me and offered to buy me a drink. My normal inclination to the offer would have been to say something along the lines of, "I'd rather take a sip of what you have in your pants," but I was trying to see black men as something other than a piece of highly desirable sexual chocolate. 

Instead, I let him buy me that drink and we made actual conversation. He introduced himself as Sam. It turned out he was heavily into sports. Apparently, a lot of black men are; who knew? I always thought professional sports are kind of boring; a lot like some woman telling a man about the finer points of selecting the best handbag. He was nearly as boring as any white guy. Still, I wanted that cock of his inside me.

"Would you mind if my husband watches us? It's a part of my therapy."

"Oh, you must suffer from WCBCS. Sure, I've helped a lot of women out with that."

He followed us home and Tony sat in a comfortable chair in our guest room watching as I was stripped out of my top and little skirt. It didn't require a lot of head work to bring Sam to full attention and I soon removed my panties and mounted him, with nothing else on but my heels. 

Whenever I'm being fucked by BBC, I cure worse than a sailor and this time was no exception. I'm sure it freaked Sam out a bit to see a diminutive white girl spew the most filthy words imaginable from her whorish mouth, but I've always done that. Tony was shocked too, but I could see he was becoming very excited by witnessing this side of me.

I came in a massive explosion and watched as Sam continued bucking away at me before he came.

He dressed and thanked us for an interesting evening, saying he was completely drained. 

"You don't have any friends you could call to come over tonight, do you? I can tell Shannon still needs more therapy to overwhelm her BBC desire for the night."

Sam shook Tony's hand and said in a very understanding tone, "You must love your woman very deeply to care so much about her well-being. I've got a couple friends I can bring in. One's married, but if he explains it to his wife that it to help out a BBC hooked white woman, I'm sure she'll understand."

An hour later, Phil showed up. His wife Kimberly insisted on coming along. "I've got to see this whole thing to believe it," she said as she pulled up a chair beside Tony's.

Phil started out by licking my dripping snatch. I'd told him that I'd cleanup up after Sam had left, but that was a bit of a lie. I didn't wait to achieve an organism, but instead mounted Phil's rod. His cock was quite long and thick and it took work to ride it to its fullest capability.

As I bounced up and down, I overhead Kimberly say, "Come on, bitch, work that ass. Don't be just moving up and down, like you're on some elevator. Shake that bootie."

I twerked as best as I possibly could on his erection for the next half hour. At one point, Tony made popcorn that he and Kimberly shared. Even though I had ample opportunity to climax, I never managed it before Phil shot his jizz into me. This was the first time I'd been fucked by a BBC that I hadn't come. I could see my therapy was beginning to work.

"See, baby, I fucked her brains out and the bitch didn't come even once," Phil proudly announced to his wife.

As they left I overheard her say, "I still don't see what the big deal is. You haven't produced an orgasm in me for months either."

There was one more black man that night that dropped by. He not only fucked my pussy, but rammed his giant cock into my ass. He came once in each hole, but still I didn't suffer a single climax.

I would have taken on Tony that night, but I was too sore. It took me three days to recover and I had multiple orgasms from his Normal Sized White Cock or NSWC.

I'm now six months into my recovery. I generally take on three or four BBCs over a weekend and my Big O's derived from BBC have become less intense and more infrequent, but I know that I'll have to be ever vigilant in my quest for relief from the throes of WCBCS. I am fortunate to have a supportive and understanding husband.

I'd also like to say that WCBCS is a real affliction, but is still a highly misunderstood disease. There are altruistic foundations being formed to help those of us afflicted this dreaded malady and I hope that white men will donate money to this worthy charity. 

As for black men, you can help too. When a white chick asks you for a good solid schtuping, it could be that she is suffering from my same dependence on BBC. It isn't enough to just do her yourself, you need to invite as many of your fellow BBC capable associates as possible to help this poor woman out.

I thank you for your support.

Shannon

~ The End ~