28 comments/ 184177 views/ 71 favorites Cuckold in the Making By: SamMcster Monday. Their first full night at the resort, and TracieLynn couldn't look more stunning. She was eight feet away on the packed disco floor, perspiration making her pretty cream and golden print sun dress cling occasionally to her curves as she danced and swayed across from her partner. Bodies intervened, often blocking his view. It didn't matter though. He knew that dress hugged a five foot one frame well toned by her four-times-a-week workouts at the Y. He loved her pert 34B's, impossibly thin waist balanced atop slender hips, tight ass, and knockout thighs. The strength of those thighs as they squeezed together still amazed him, especially whenever they constricted around him during those breathtaking moments as her orgasms peaked. A larger couple, dancing dirty style, intervened for several rumbling bass beats and then his wife slid back into view, smiling at her partner with a girl-next-door face that could melt any heart. A cute, button nose, hazel, probing eyes, and chestnut hair, bobbed short just for this trip, shone in the glare of the circling spotlights. TracieLynn radiated wholesomeness and fun tonight. Perfect. Just the way he'd hoped she would be for this special occasion on their five year anniversary. Sam glanced once more at the man dancing across from his pretty wife. It had to be him. Hard to be sure, of course, since the pictures he'd received were just of one part of the man's body and that part was currently well-covered by his Chinos. It had to be him though. Had to! He'd singled out TracieLynn just as the song sequence had begun, spinning her out into the heart of the throng without even a side glance at Sam. Just like that, the song stream segwayed into another, and the DJ began rattling off the virtues of the bar's premium feature drinks. TracieLynn clapped lightly, nodded and muttered appreciation to her dance partner and caught Sam's eye. Her fingers flicked in a walking motion as she pretended to powder her face. Sam nodded and waved once then watched her thread the crowd in the direction of the disco's back corner. When he looked up, her dance partner was standing right beside him. "Sam?" came the deep, earthy voice, punching through the disco throb. "Rupertt?" "That's right." A very large, muscular, black hand jutted out. Sam rose and accepted the hand, startled by its grip and the press of the four ornate rings, one adorning each finger. "With two T's, right?" he said, hoping the music masked the slight strain in his voice. "You retain what you learn. I like that." "So do you, apparently. You singled her right out." "How could I miss her? She's the most beautiful creature in here, nothing at all like those pictures you sent." Sam nodded. "I know. She chopped her hair for this trip. I wish she hadn't." "What are you talking about, my man? It's perfect on her. Cute, cool, comfortable, and easy to fix--just what a girl needs for a place like this." Just like in many of the e-mails they'd exchanged, Sam found himself grudgingly agreeing with Rupertt, though most times he really didn't want to. "I suppose, you're right. Anyway, she'll be back in a second. So what do you think?" "Honest opinion? Piece of cake." "You're sure?" Sam uttered before he could stop himself. Rupertt frowned, looked to both sides, and then leaned in by Sam's ear. "Look here, my man. You recall the credentials that come with those two T's? Over 50 white wives for me now, with just 2 that I was unsuccessful on and, but for a different way of going about it, they would have been in the bag too. When I know I can convert one, it's a sure thing." He draped one meaty arm across Sam's shoulders and put his lips right next to his ear. "From meeting her just now along with everything you've revealed about her--assuming you weren't bullshitting me any--I'll have TracieLynn going black by this Saturday." The words were soft and low, but Sam's ear felt jarred as if they'd been shouted. A big part of him still refused to believe that his wife of five years--a woman who'd, other than his own, had never had another cock in her hand let alone inside her pussy--would eagerly and willingly accept some strange one. One of any color, that was, never mind big and black. Rupertt stepped back and leveled a hard look at him. "That's assuming you still want this to happen. And I mean really. Can't be any doubts or uncertainty here. Your role is too important this week, Sam. Make or break stuff that I need your full support on. So what'll it be? Stop or go? Decide." A flash of cream and golden caught his eye in back of the crowd. The line at the toilet must have been short, amazingly enough. The turning point had arrived and was now waiting, standing next to him with a chiseled black body bearing extra inches--in multiple dimensions actually. But it was impossible and ridiculous. TracieLynn just wasn't the type, something he'd been stewing over the many months leading up to this trip. Nope. Too devoted, contented, proper, traditional--all the attributes that made up a perfectly good wife in the most biblical of ways. And that was not only disheartening and unsatisfying for Sam, it was a challenge he couldn't resist taking. "Sam? Whaddayasay?" "Let's do it." "All right now! That's what I'm talking about! See you two at the pool tomorrow." With that, Rupertt vanished, just before TracieLynn cleared the last knot of intervening bodies and shuffled up, more delighted than a girl in her favorite chocolate store. "Oh, Sam. This place is wonderful, better than what we heard and read. We're going to have a real blast this whole week. I know it." She took his hand and led him into the pulsing throng. She laughed, a carefree sound, as she twisted and swayed to the rhythm. "Did you see that guy I was dancing with earlier?" "Did I? He was a hunk," Sam shouted into the music's blare. "I love watching you have fun like that. We need to do more of that this week, Honey. Much more." She didn't slow her dance, but her pretty face took on a calculated look for just an instant. "Really?" "It's why we came," Sam assured her, though he wasn't yet feeling so certain himself. Sleep didn't come easy to Sam that night, just like it hadn't after the initial virtual meeting with Rupertt and the early private chat room stages of planning his wife's conversion to black cock addict. He couldn't sleep nights when he'd yielded to Rupertt more of her secrets or intimate little details or sexual habits and preferences or photo files. Each set of files had cost him dearly. Even the clothed pictures had kept him awake fretting. But nothing like the nude ones though. He'd thought long and hard before slowly mashing the Enter key on that particular e-mail. Rupertt's reward had come back shortly after--a shot of the same photo but now covered with streams of thick semen that criss-crossed her breasts, nipples and face. Sam had sprayed his own load onto his cupped palm gazing at that enhanced picture. That was ten months ago and he still liked masturbating to it regularly, though Rupertt now possessed copies of all the naked photos he'd ever taken of TracieLynn, most of which had returned to Sam cum-covered with promises that what Sam saw on the outside would soon be deep inside her. Sam and TracieLynn started their Jamaican Tuesday morning in lazy fashion, taking a late breakfast before heading to the largest salt water pool of the four at the resort. His wife had chosen her stark white bikini. Not her skimpiest, by any means, but it looked fabulous on her anyway and especially stood out as her skin baked to a golden brown doneness. About half an hour after they'd set up on lounges, Rupertt made his appearance. He acted totally casual, just happy to see them again, coincidentally like. TracieLynn made the introduction without asking Rupertt to remind her his name, and Sam felt that bone-crushing grip once more. At least the rings were absent this time. In fact, Rupertt's only bling was a thin gold chain bearing a tiny amulet of circles and lines, impossible to make out without staring too closely. At some point, Sam left to fetch cold drinks, bypassing the pool-side waiter. He circled to the cabana bar across the pool and sat where he could view his wife and the man who would transform her. Rupertt was already poised on the lounge beside her, telling some highly animated tale involving lots of gestures and arm waves. The man positively rippled with muscles and the light sheen from exertion made him glow in the mid-morning sun. Hunk. Stud. God. Lots of similar words paraded through Sam's mind as he watched Rupertt perform. His wife, though, was an even more telling story. TracieLynn had struck her own pose, one leg fully outstretched, one knee drawn up, partially reclined on the lounge but with her chest turned toward Rupertt, sunglasses fixed on him, she clearly was liking what she saw. Fair enough. That didn't mean she would fuck him though. She just happened to enjoy the view and what girl wouldn't? Rupertt was high calorie eye candy on anyone's menu. And he knew it well. Sam lingered a bit to let Rupertt weave his spell some before he trotted back with the drinks. "Honey, Rupertt says beginner snorkeling starts today right after lunch. Wouldn't that be fun?" "You bet," he answered, turning to Rupertt. "You going?" "I teach. And actually, there won't be too many beginners since several showed up yesterday at the so-called intermediate session. Definitely, come on out." "We will," Sam assured. He couldn't help but notice a flicker of satisfaction pass across TracieLynn's face. Rupertt stayed and chatted for a while longer before leaving them to go work out and fetch himself an early lunch. He was a machine in everything he did, Sam thought. If there ever was a man who had a chance at scoring his wife's pussy, that was him. Was she up to the challenge? Would she successfully resist him? Conflict pounded within Sam's chest. He was certain that she would but he wished... hoped... almost prayed that she wouldn't. And that was the confusing part, which always flared up in him regarding these thoughts. Confident that his wife would choose to remain his--and his only--but at the same time, desiring of her to give in fully to temptation. Just once, at least. For just one, small nibble of forbidden fruit. That afternoon the snorkeling session went as advertised. Rupertt took charge of them as the only true, virgin beginners while the rest of the group swam off for more enriching experiences. Sam participated but hung back, letting Rupertt have considerable quality instructor time with his wife, which he fully exploited by never being more than three feet away from TracieLynn, often times right up against her. The contrast of their two flesh tones struck Sam as incredibly stunning. The black man was big enough to fully envelop her; from above or below, it didn't matter. A tingle started up in Sam's crotch at the resulting mental images. When Rupertt's hand settled under her belly to hold her flat atop the Gulf's warm waters, the tingle became a dull ache. He felt the slight throb of a half-formed erection as he tried to will one of those thick black digits to slip casually into her bikini bottom. Just one knuckle's worth, probing around for treasure under that white cloth. "Please!" Sam whispered into the waves. Rupertt caught him looking, even through the well-used dive mask. A smirk touched his lips before he went back to coaching TracieLynn. It was at that point Sam declared he would wait ashore. Leaning back under the wide beach umbrella, he had the sand to himself. His wife was now diving and surfacing alone with the big black cock owner that would perform her conversion. Sometimes they'd be mask-to-mask after surfacing, laughing, treading the gentle swells with ease. Perhaps Rupertt had brushed that big tool up against her a few times by now. Perhaps she had been initially surprised by it and now was more curious than anything, wanting another chance close encounter. Perhaps she'd even caused one of those encounters in order to get a better feel. Images formed in Sam's mind of her tits and neatly trimmed chestnut bush as she donned her bikini that morning, but instead of them being clean and tidy like they had been, the images had ropes of thick cum streamed across them. It caked in some places, ran and dripped off her in others. Then she spread her legs apart, and a gush of white splashed down her thigh in rippling waves. It was at that point he felt the deep pulses surge in his own groin, and he barely had enough time to yank his cock out so it could spray its feeble load onto the sand. Face flushing, he smeared dry sand across the thin lines and scattered drops of cum he'd spewed, obliterating all traces of it. As it always did, the ejaculation dampened his burning urge to get TracieLynn up close and personal with a black cock, but the ache in his groin persisted as he watched them play for another 45 minutes. Having Rupertt actually live, performing with her right before his eyes, stoked his urge again in very little time. And right behind that urge, the images flared in his mind once more.... Back to the disco that evening and--surprise!--Rupertt showed up. At least Sam felt he'd put on a show of being appropriately surprised for his wife. Couldn't have her suspect any collaboration, after all. Not that she would. TracieLynn had chosen a short skirt, flats, and a sleeveless aqua blouse with a V-neck that plunged past her pushup bra. As his wife took her first dance with the black man, Sam could tell Rupertt complimented her selection when they both stared for a long moment at her augmented cleavage while they bantered and joked. Then TracieLynn shot a quick sideways glance at Sam before laughing uproariously at their little transgression. "Just you wait, sweetheart," Sam muttered. "He wants to put much more than his gaze on your lovely tits." And Sam would give anything at that point to watch Rupertt do it, though part of him still withheld its blessing, keeping the conflict ever churning inside, convinced she would never expose her delicious quarter-sized nipples to any other man but him. When TracieLynn left for a toilet visit, Rupertt dragged him outside. "Did you fuck her last night?" Rupertt wanted to know. "No. She--" "Good. You're not allowed to fuck her. Understand?" Sam nodded slowly. "Don't look like that. You want an explanation? I'll give you two reasons, my man. One, the next guy that fucks her is going to be me. And two, that's exactly what you want. Don't tell me you weren't thinking about my cock inside her at the beach today. I saw you watching us and you looked like any other hubby hungry to see his wife taken by the black man." Sam's jaw dropped open. He wheezed out of his mouth. "That's right. It was that obvious, my man. You are so ready for this to happen, though I think there's still a little voice holding you back. That voice will make you a true cuckold, friend, one that always feels, in part, that surrendering his wife is fucked up. That he shouldn't do it, but he can't help it and won't stop it. Listen to that voice, my man. Keep it alive in there because it puts the edge on your thrill. Over 50 hubbies have informed me that's the case, and after a little while, that thrill becomes about the only thing giving them true, complete satisfaction. Stronger than crack. Nothing else comes close." The thought was scary. And tempting, with its unmatched danger factor. To become so addicted, he couldn't imagine it. Forbidden fruit again, that no one should be permitted, but something he'd like to sample just once, flirting with the chance of getting hooked forever. Would that be so bad? "Are you listening to me?" Rupertt had been talking. "Sorry." "Pay attention! Keep your hands--and dick--off her. Got it? Tonight I'm going to do a lot of dancing with her. You should work in a few too, okay? That lets her catch her breath and control her thoughts, which are starting to jumble, if you haven't noticed. But this has to be done at a steady pace, so take a few dances and be a supportive hubby. Got that?" Sam nodded. "Lastly, come up with an excuse to not go snorkeling with us tomorrow. I want the whole time alone with her so I can set the stage. Then tomorrow night back here, I'll give you my take on the outlook. Okay, my man? Are you with me? Can you do your job on this?" "I can." "Then you'll get exactly what you want out of it. Trust me." But that little voice Rupertt had mentioned still said otherwise. It was supposed to, apparently, which was a good thing any way you looked at it. Sam felt torn as he watched his wife dance with Rupertt, offering up encouragement when they had their own turn on the floor. "Gosh, you look like you're really enjoying yourself out here with our new friend Rupertt. I swear I could watch you two all night, Honey." "You mean that?" "Why wouldn't I? Nothing's more important to me than you being totally happy and that's exactly how you look. Ecstatic. Delighted. I soooo want to see more of that look on you." She frowned slightly, again in that calculating way, but said in a breathy voice, "I'm really lucky to have you, Sam." In their bungalow that night, she chose to attempt what he called her subtle approach. Without outright asking, she let him know that she was open to them having sex. A suggestive word here. An inviting comment there. Some prolonged bare naked time after shedding her sweaty disco clothes certainly stirred Sam's cock and she noticed that. My God, how could any sane man resist the allure of a 26-year-old beauty primed and burning to fuck him on the spot? But he did, by simply refusing to accept any of her invitations. The confusion on her face as he shut off the light was the same look he felt certain she'd have if he mentioned that he really wanted to see Rupertt's cock, not his own, plunging into her, over and over. Half an hour after her breathing deepened, he slid out of bed and went to the toilet in order to empty the load boiling in his balls into the commode. "Sorry, Honey," he whispered as his semen dribbled into the water. "Your next load will be a black one, thick and huge. More cum and deeper than you'll ever get from me." Probably buckets of it, just like in his mental images and exactly what Rupertt had promised. Back in bed, the Blacken TracieLynn Urge again waned, as usual. But it roared back as he imagined just how much cum she'd take from that black monster and in what ways she'd feel it spurting in the back of her pussy and across her cervix. He went to sleep fully erect. She was a bit reserved Wednesday morning and stayed that way until shortly after Rupertt joined them at the pool. The black magician had her smiling again and soon laughing at his jokes and antics. It was at that point, Sam decided to make his announcement. "Dear, I think I'm going to skip snorkeling today. I'd like to get some swings in on the driving range, and right after lunch, I hear, is a good time. But you and Rupertt should still go for the session. Pick up where you left off yesterday. Have some fun." She almost didn't seem to hear. "Hmmm? Oh. Okay," she said, distracted. "I'll see you this afternoon then." Sam didn't bother visiting the driving range. Instead, he snagged a floppy hat and resort towel to use as a minimal disguise and then trotted over to the beach area to find an obscure place to freely observe. Like yesterday, Rupertt and TracieLynn pealed off to do their own exclusive snorkeling. And like yesterday, they hung together practically in each other's shadow. But 30 minutes into the session, they bailed out to the beach where they laid side-by-side on a pair of towels. They talked in serious tones, their faces mere inches apart as the intensity of their conversation drew them together. At one point, Rupertt lightly traced his fingers across her shoulder and down her arm. She looked where his fingers had glided and then rolled over onto her stomach as he rose and fetched a bottle of sunscreen from the instructor's supply chest. When he returned, she had already untied her bikini top and lay with her arms crossed under her head. Cuckold in the Making Sam knew this routine: straddle the girl, usually across her butt, while you slathered her back with oil. A particularly talented man could give her a massage while at it, and surreptitiously use application motions that would ensure brushing his fingertips across some tit flesh. Sam watched as Rupertt took ten minutes to slather up his wife. In the process, the black man would occasionally lean forward to say something in her ear, and each time, she'd smile that innocent grin of hers. No doubt, it was from the combination of what he said plus the press of his big dick right up the crack of her ass. Virgin territory, that hole was for Sam. But somehow he knew Rupertt could find his way in there. Only two thin cloth wraps were preventing it from actually happening right now, and Rupertt was leaning in again, giving her shoulders more focused attention. Her smile widened in response. Dig it into her, Rupertt. Make her hunger for black cock in every hole. Now THAT would be a total conversion for his wife. Her first anal fuck. First black cock. First man, other than himself, to enjoy every inch of her naked flesh. First blow job she would provide to someone else after their wedding five years ago. First orgasm from another guy. Sam indulged in protracted thoughts of multiple firsts for TracieLynn, convinced the odds of any of them happening were nearly nonexistent. But her crossing the line into each first would mean newness, loss of some aspect of her virginity, corruption, spoilage even. And it was intoxicating. Indeed, nothing else might come anywhere close to the thrill of a true first time occurrence. Sam stayed riveted on the pair, his cock ready to spring to fully erect state the instant she decided to escalate her actions with Rupertt. But nothing more happened between them, other than protracted, intimate conversation that dragged out well past the one hour snorkeling session. When they finally got up and collected their towels and gear, Sam hightailed it back to their bungalow to wait, recalling how Rupertt had said that this had to be done at a steady pace. She came in a little while later and with barely a word, hit the shower. The water ran for over twice as long as one of her typical baths, and when she finally finished, she emerged in a towel and came to sit by him on the bed. "Sweetheart?" Her tone begged for full attention and almost by instinct he wanted to drop the magazine he was using as a distraction and take up her hands. But he kept his nose pointed squarely at the rambling article about condo timeshares. "Sam?" "Mmmm?" "Honey, why don't we skip the disco tonight? We could stay here. Have a quiet, relaxing evening together. Or... maybe... maybe not so relaxing or quiet... if you want to, that is." Vindication! Did he know his woman or what? Now that's what I'M talking about, Rupertt. Despite the black wizard's best efforts, she simply wasn't the type. With just one little word from him right now--a simple 'yes'--and it would be toast, Mister Sure Thing. Mister Piece of Cake... Except My Wife's. The cheering erupting in his skull made him feel like turning cartwheels. Although.... Although he really, really wanted to hear Rupertt actually pronounce her as in the bag, so, at that very instant, Sam could then break the bad news to him. Sorry about your third miss there, my man. The odds had to catch up to you, sooner or later, you know. But he wanted that exchange with Rupertt. Wanted to see the disappointment register on that black face. That left his wife, in a towel only, waiting beside him. He thought fast. "That's a lovely idea, Honey, but you know, I had my heart really set on seeing you twist around that dance floor and draw some hungry looks tonight. God, that excites me watching you soak up and enjoy all that male attention. I tell you what. Let's go for a while, and maybe we can make it an early night. Meantime, I want you to push it to the max this evening, okay? Let it all out. I mean, you'll be doing it for me in addition to having a blast yourself. Okay?" Again confusion clouded her face. "But Sam, I just feel like we haven't been--" "I know. It's been a crazy week, hasn't it? Just like you mentioned it would Monday night. And I've loved every single minute of it." "You ... you have?" "Oh, yes! And all from just watching the enjoyment you're having. Can't get enough. That's what matters most to me--what I want more than anything, including tonight." She got up slowly and went to get dressed, mumbling softly some things he couldn't understand. There was no doubt though that she had taken his request seriously when she announced her readiness to head to dinner. She'd chosen her black micro skirt and black strappy heels. On top, she wore a burgundy halter that fully bared her luscious tummy and naval in which, she had clamped her diamond charm. But the best part was the fact that her perky little breasts were swinging freely under that halter and with the angle cut and looseness of the material encircling her armpits, many men would get several good glimpses of her yummy tits that night. Including Rupertt. One last time. But over an hour went by at the disco and still Rupertt hadn't shown. Plenty of other men ogled TracieLynn, especially as she seemed to relax more as the minutes elapsed with only Sam dancing with her. Relaxation, plus a steady supply of rum punch, loosened her inhibitions. Sam, along with any other man in an eight foot radius around, got a great tit show as one or both would sneak free of her halter. She just laughed when it happened and tucked them back in, taking a little longer each time to do so, smiling and winking at Sam as she gave him his requested all-out show. When Sam's bladder signaled overload, he left her seated at the bar and headed for the toilet. As his piss stream splashed in the scummy water, a beefy fellow stepped up to the adjacent urinal. Immediately the sound of a fire hose unloading assaulted Sam's ears and he glanced at the man beside him. "I've been holding that for quite a while just waiting for you to come in here." Rupertt continued emptying his bladder. "W-where've you been?" "Watching. Letting you take care of your job, which you've done well so far. God, those tits on your wife do amazing things." He tilted his head back at the thought. The splashing actually grew louder, something like Niagara Falls' roar. Sam finished and zipped. Some skinny turd shouldered him aside to get at the urinal as he stepped out the door. The waterfall's roar was even loud out in the hall, amazingly enough. A minute later, Rupertt emerged, looking quite satisfied to find Sam waiting. "I told you that I'd report on the outlook. Well here it is, my man. Tomorrow--Thursday afternoon--that's when she'll give the sign for how soon she'll take my black dick. Which will either be tomorrow night or Friday night for sure." Rupertt, I--" "You're interrupting. I don't like that." Sam gulped. "Good," Rupert continued. "As I said, tomorrow is the test. I want you to make an excuse to leave us at the pool in the morning. Go away and don't come near us until snorkeling starts at the beach. Then be sure you're down there watching. At some point, we'll kiss for the first time. See how that plays out. If she kisses me lightly and only once, like two cousins do, then we won't fuck until Friday; otherwise, she'll be taking my black cock tomorrow night. You got all that?" Sam waited. "You can speak now." "I'm not sure." "You're not sure what?" "That she's going to... take your cock." "And what makes you say that?" "Well, earlier today she told me she didn't want to come to the disco tonight. She was hoping that we... she and I... would spend the evening together. That seems to me--" "Seems to you like I've failed. That's what you're going to say, right?" Looking at the intensity in the black man's eyes, Sam could only nod. Snatching his arm, Rupertt dragged Sam out the side door of the disco. He led him a short distance away from the noise over beneath a stand of rustling palm trees before wheeling him around so that they faced each other. "So the little cuckold thinks his wife is going to stay true, does he?" Rupertt's hard face drew close. "I'm not wrong about her. She's as good as fucked by me, my man." Rupertt took a long breath and stepped back. "But for the sake of discussion, let's look at this a different way. You were at the beach today. Don't waste my time denying it--of course you were there watching. No way you could miss it. Stayed the whole time too, just in case something happened between us. And in the end you were disappointed." Sam started to shake his head. "Bullshit. As much as you saw us do, you wanted more. And you know what? She did too. No other man has ever been that bold with her. Admit it. No man has ever gotten a good feel of those tits like I did today, and both of you were disappointed it didn't go a lot farther." "Then why did she--" "I'll tell you why. It's the very last stage of denial before she gives in completely. She's already decided, and credit goes to you for helping to make sure of that. She knows she's about to transform and this last part of her is trying desperately to hold on and resist. Happens to every wife who's truly devoted, sometimes even right up to the point where my balls first smack on their asses." The feeling from earlier, his sense of victory and accomplishment, vanished from Sam like a mist in a hurricane's wind. Could it really be? Rupert studied him in the light from the moon. He made a 'tsk' sound. "I see now. You've been doing what I told you--listening to that little voice inside. It says: 'She can't possibly do this. It won't happen because she won't let it.' That's real good. Your thrills are all going to come from that voice and I think they'll be big ones for you. So keep that voice going. Don't you squelch it like I'm about to squelch the one left in her head, and your rewards will be tremendous, my man. Think about how you've felt so far every step along the way. That first naked picture of her that I sent back to you coated with my cum. The first time I laid hands on her. The first kiss I'll be taking from her tomorrow. Remember how hard you considered this and decided you wanted it to happen. Needed it to happen. Even this past Monday night, you confirmed it again and then set about ensuring you didn't fuck things up while keeping her firmly on the path to me. You've seen my dick in photos and now seen how I handle her. I swear to you that I will please her and make her experience the joys of her womanhood in ways you never could. She senses that I can, so how could you possibly deny it for her and force her to settle for much less? She deserves it--all woman do--but most especially the one that means so much to you. And if that all isn't enough to convince you, then drop your pants." "What the fuck?" "Just pull them down a little so we can check the honest truth. Because I'm betting your little white weenie is hard right now, isn't it?" Sam started to back away. "ISN'T IT?" "Y-yes." "All right. Keep your pants up, white boy. You've got your answer now, don't you?" He did, though it shamed him like nothing else. And that was... good. Delicious, even. A part of him screamed the exact opposite but that only increased the prickly pleasure of the realization. "Okay, now. You're all done dancing with her tonight. My turn. Don't forget about the pool tomorrow and then the beach later. And, of course, under no circumstances do you even touch her tonight. Clear?" "Perfectly." In their bungalow after a late night at the disco, subtle was out. Desperate was in. TracieLynn threw herself at Sam but he silently used all of Rupertt's words to immediately and ruthlessly smother any spark of desire in him, something that might have led to her settling for pathetically less than what she deserved. And again in the end he shut off the light and turned away from a confused, hurt, and very frustrated wife. It took her quite a long time to go to sleep. When she finally did, he thought about wanking off again into the toilet, but decided not to, choosing instead to clutch, and not let diminish, the primal urge to see her get fully and utterly blacked. Thursday, it was as if she'd gone mute. Not one sound came from her the entire morning right up to the point when he announced he was taking off alone. By then Rupertt had arrived and was doing steady, powerful laps from one end of the pool to the other. "Don't go, Sam," she pleaded, glancing quickly at the pool. "I need you to stay with me today. Please?" He lied and told her he wouldn't be gone long. Sam spent lunch thinking instead of eating. The little voice would have him believe that, between last night in bed and her pleading at the pool, Rupertt was, again, way wrong. But for one word from him, TracieLynn could actually be spared--something she desperately wanted: him to save her. Was it just a another cheap thrill though, him thinking that way? Just part of the endless cycle of tease, denial, and reward he kept jerking himself through? Walking the resort grounds, the feeling intensified that she really, truly needed him to prevent her from doing this. Even with the relentless pushing this week from both him and Rupertt, she just needed him to supply one small tug back in order to safely skirt the edge of this bottomless chasm. He fought with himself over why she should seek to avoid it when, clearly, Rupertt had so much more to offer. But, deeply fulfilling as the blackening experience might be, she still might prefer never to have it in the first place. Might yearn to turn away from forbidden fruit without a single taste of its addictive juices. And, of course, he never asked her, either directly or indirectly, what she really desired for herself. If he forced her to do this, could he ever forgive himself? His feet picked up the pace until he was running to the beach. There, a small knot of snorkelers paddled in the distance heading for the reef. He turned the opposite direction and followed the contour of the shoreline to the more secluded areas until, around one sharp curve, they came into view. They were standing profile to him, tightly wrapped together, their lips already locked in a slow, protracted kiss. Too late. The chasm had swallowed her. The kiss went on without interruption. His wife showed no signs of wanting to end it as the seconds ground by. Somehow, Rupertt must have spotted him out of the corner of his eye, because he turned TracieLynn so her back was facing him. The black man's hands filled the inside of her white bikini, each one clenching and kneading a luscious ass cheek with intense delight. The pair were still kissing deeply when Sam trudged away, unable to watch any longer. The rest of the afternoon he felt utterly drained and spent. He remained as mute as TracieLynn had been that entire morning. At dinner, she sat across from him, but really she drifted some great distance away, grinning and smirking at nothing, a study of edgy nervousness and unbridled anticipation. Her fingertips constantly brushed her lips, at least once every five minutes, and she shuffled her ass on the seat cushion, grunting softly every time she did and then smirking again. Not once did she address him. Barely did she even look at him. Not that she was being deliberately unkind. Obviously, her mind was consumed. And why not? Visions of powerful black hands stuffed down her bikini kept swirling in his head as her body wrapped itself around a sculpted ebony idol. A kiss shared only by the most intimate of lovers. A monster black cock awaiting its conquest. Fulfillment of her as a woman, like never before. How could he have been so wrong? Heavy makeup, a sleeveless silk blouse, no bra, the black mini, and strappy heels walked silently with Sam to the disco. She'd pegged the slut meter tonight, and she knew it, as evidenced by the runway strut and hip sway he'd never seen her do before. Had Rupertt demanded that of her? Sam suspected as much. This was probably just the start of many changes to come in her, changes that would reach far beyond clothes and demeanor. The Conversion. Sam knew he was viewing the near climax of an intense work in progress. Rupertt caught him almost immediately at the disco. The black man's Chinos were crisp and his cotton print shirt fell open to reveal his toned chest and six pack abs. He was loaded with gold bling, including the strange amulet, which he took off and flashed under Sam's nose. "This is you, my man, after tonight." The amulet had a big male symbol with its stout arrow poking deeply into a similar size female symbol. On the other side of the female symbol, another male symbol, much smaller and shriveled, sat disconnected, looking forlorn. Yes, indeed, that was him all right. Nothing could prevent it now. "You can take off," Rupertt commanded. "Your services are not required any longer. I've already arranged a full day with her tomorrow, so don't expect her back until sometime on Saturday. She'll be a totally changed woman then, all thanks to you." With that, Sam received a hard slap on the back, which shoved him away from the disco's door and away from his wife. He wandered the resort grounds, unsure of what to do or where to go, until his feet eventually led him back to their room. Thursday night through early Saturday crawled by. Sam waited. Dejected as he felt, he lost track of all the times he masturbated while lurking in the bungalow. Never had he brought himself to orgasm so often. He couldn't help it. He saw nothing, nothing except the mental image of his wife receiving fucking after fucking from her Black God. With each time and each of her resulting orgasms, her conversion would burn deeper into her soul, never to be undone. Barely sleeping Thursday night, he finally fell into an exhausted sleep late Friday night, his balls aching from their inability to produce cum fast enough for the orgasms he continually forced upon them. Saturday morning he awoke and TracieLynn was laying beside him. Her makeup was gone, her hair matted, as she snored softly into the pillow, something she only did due to total exhaustion. He slid out of bed and went to her side. Thursday night's clothes from the disco lay in a tangled heap on the floor. Right in the middle of the pile sat her black satin thong. It was totally saturated with sticky, slimy cum, which was pungent, almost metallic when he held it up and sniffed. He longed to tug back the bed covers and view the results of her first black cock's ravishment upon her pussy, which had still been his on the journey down, but no longer. Instead, he let her sleep. "Happy Anniversary, Honey," he whispered as he left the bungalow, sporting a raging hardon. Rupertt was sipping espresso on the dining room terrace as Sam strolled up. The sun was already promising another glorious day in paradise. "Well?" Rupertt's eyes never left the gentle breakers marking the boundary of the reef. "You're amazing," Sam confessed. "Yes, I am. Your wife is pretty amazing too." He tilted the tiny cup for another sip. "The answer to your burning question is yes. She took it in all holes. Repeatedly. A completely successful transformation, I would say. And one of the best I've had in a while, if that makes any difference to you." Rupertt pointed to the chair beside him. As Sam sat, Rupertt turned his own chair to face him fully. "You two leave tomorrow?" "First thing." "Okay. Then I'll see you both later at lunch where I'll tell her goodbye and cut her off. She'll want another fuck of course, which she won't get. She may even ask you later for... ohhhh... let's call it a mercy fuck." The wicker creaked as Rupertt leaned forward. "You won't give it to her. Clear?" Cuckold in the Making Sam's instinct was to slide his chair back, to put some distance between himself and that uncompromising glare. Instead, he swallowed hard and muttered, "Clear." "Good. In fact, you won't even think about touching her, my man." Rupertt twisted around to face the beach view again. "Not until you've been home a whole week at least. Gotta let that potent black sperm work on her mind without any distractions." "I understand." "Pour me some more OJ." Sam lifted the pitcher and topped off Rupertt's glass. For an instant, he thought about pouring himself one, but that offer hadn't been made. As Rupertt sipped his juice, he reached into the pocket of his Chinos and drew out a crumpled slip of paper. "She gave me her e-mail, cell, address, and home phone number. I'll be keeping in touch with her. Appropriately enough. Oh, I also have a few associates living near you who'll be providing her some boosters every now and then." "Boosters?" A half smile touched Rupertt's lips. "Gotta keep her firmly on the path, my man. Something you can't help with anymore." He put the paper away and took a deep breath. "In fact, you've got just two things to do yourself at this stage. First, if she gets around to letting you fuck her, enjoy it. In about eight months--at the point where she cuts you off completely--then you'll know that she's black cock only. Forever." Sam frowned. Cut off? "What's the second thing?" "Reservations. Back here, for the two of you. Same time next year. Get those taken care of right after you get home." "I assume you'll be here too?" "Of course. Your wife and I have to finish, after all." "Finish?" "Her transformation. You see in about eight months, she'll be stopping her birth control. My associates will ensure that. At that point, we don't need any surprises, certainly not from your little white weenie, do we?" "But--" "According to her, you two have been talking about starting a family. You've been putting her off for over two years, haven't you?" He gulped back his answer. "Admit it!" "I wanted us to wait a while." "And so you have. But now you've missed your chance, my man. What did she tell me? She wants three, I think it was. Well, she's gonna have them all, and the first one will definitely be mine. We'll have to see about the others. But I promise you they won't be white." It was as if he'd been punched in the gut. Cut off and... and.... He took a deep breath. "Those other 50 wives... did... did you--?" The black head nodded. "Exactly as I plan to do with yours... that is, other than those two I mentioned plus a handful who were too old. But many of those had lovely, ripe daughters, who were perfect for transforming all the way." Rupertt stood up. "I really enjoyed getting your wife this week. Couldn't have done it without you. Hope you get to enjoy the years to come as her devoted cuckold. Oh, and... though we're not quite done yet...." He thrust out his big, meaty hand. "Congratulations anyway on achieving a total and complete transformation. I think you got exactly what you wanted." Once more, Sam experienced the bone-crushing grip. As Rupertt sauntered away, Sam thought back over the week's events. And though he really had only her in mind going into all this, he realized Rupertt's congratulations were intended not just regarding TracieLynn, but for himself as well.