0 comments/ 69519 views/ 20 favorites Mary's Story By: venturer15 Time was that I was like most other women, a happily married young mother with a nice suburban home and devoted husband, but I was a different person then. I grew up in a very conservative Christian home; graduated from a Christian high school. That is where I met my future husband Ben. We even went to the same Christian college. It was in my freshman year that we discovered abstinence is far easier to moralize about than practice. We got married earlier than planed. I dropped out of college and got a job as a secretary to help with expenses. Times were tough, but we made it through. Life got a lot better after Ben graduated and got a promising job. He was on the fast track with a growing company. Ben convinced me that we should buy a nice big house in an exclusive part of town. It was a lot of money, but I trusted that Ben knew what he was doing. By the time I was 23 our second child came along so I quit work. Life was great; I loved being a stay-at-home mom, having home cooked dinners ready for Ben when he returned from the office each day. Even if I never left the house for the day, I'd make sure I was dressed nicely for Ben when he'd get home. His routine was to give me a kiss as soon as he walked in the door. While I dressed conservatively, I had some naughty silk nighties for when we were alone together. Then the bottom fell out of our lives. The economy soured and the mortgage crisis struck. That was when I discovered that Ben had bought our house with no money down using an aggressive variable rate mortgage. Of course he was very remorseful. He explained how he planned to refinance after the house appreciated and before the interest rate reset. He had also been sure he would have received several promotions by that time too. The truth was, business at his company was so slow, he was lucky to have any job at all, and at his current salary, there was no way we could afford to keep our house. To make matters worse, we were already behind in our mortgage payments, so our credit was ruined. I felt betrayed. How could he do this to me and our children? We depended on him to protect us and see that we had a nice place to live. I couldn't believe how stupid and naive he was. Of course as a good Christian I forgave him, but in the pit of my stomach lingered a deep feeling of disappointment. We talked about what we might do, and agreed that the only real option we had was for me to go back to work. At least I could help out a little. Then I discovered just how bad the economy was. Almost nobody was hiring secretaries, or administrative assistants as we like to be called. As I kept sending out my resume, and received no call backs, I began to search farther a field. Finally I got a call back for an interview in a nearby city for a position advertised as Professional Assistant. I dressed in my best outfit. Checking myself in the mirror, I was pleased with the confident young woman I saw. My long blond hair cascaded over the collar and onto my shoulders. The color of my dress complimented my penetrating blue eyes. As I took the commuter train to the city center, I noticed several young black thugs checking out the women as they got on. They stared arrogantly at any pretty female as she entered, challenging her to make eye contact. I had to admit I found their presence to be somewhat disconcerting as they ogled my shapely legs and tiny narrow feet. It wasn't so much that they were black, but they behaved as if they should have their way with me if they so chose. By the time I arrived at the address I was given, I was as nervous as I could be. My anxiety wasn't lessened when I saw just how many other women were gathered there. There must have been over a hundred. We all started by filling out a standard employment application. Then there was a typing test, which included transcription. My skills were rusty, and my transcription was never that good. My spirits dropped lower and lower as I realized just how much faster many of the other women were. So, wasn't I surprised when I was asked to go into a private office for an interview? Elated at my unexpected second chance, I entered the room ready to do everything in my power to impress who ever I might encounter. I wasn't prepared for the people who greeted me. Behind the desk sat a very tall platinum blond woman. Even though her hair was rather short and her features strikingly angular and haughty, she was stunningly beautiful. Her blouse, while obviously expensive, had a plunging neckline hinting of no bra, certainly out of place in any office I ever worked in. Beside the desk sat a shorter thin, wiry, dark man, who looked more like a fashion designer than a business man. The woman spoke first in a rather husky voice, "Good morning Ms. Travis...." She commenced to ask questions much more personal than I thought was permitted in an interview; however, I was so desperate for a job, I found myself answering in detail despite my growing reservations. I still wasn't prepared for what happened next. "Very good Mrs. Travis. Would you now please remove you clothes so we may get a better look at you?" "Wha, wha, what?" I stammered, not believing what I knew I heard. "Your clothes, sweety," lisped the thin man. It was the first time he spoke. "The way you're dressed, we can't be sure you have the necessary assets to work for us." "You see," broke in the woman, "we provide very special professional services for business men who travel to our city. We provide high-powered 'escorts' for very important clients. These are services for which you will be VERY well compensated, if we decide to let you work for us." Shocked, not wanting to believe what I was hearing, I stood up, unconsciously smoothing the pleats of my skirt as I rose. Feeling myself blushing, standing before them wide-eyed, I stammered, "I, I don't think so. I thought you wanted a secretary." "Listen honey," she hissed, "with your typing and dictation, there are no secretarial jobs for you, things being what they are. Besides, that work doesn't pay shit. But we can help you, and you need our help. We've already checked your credit." With that she stood up; she was even taller than I thought. Thrusting a card at me she said, "You have that fresh and young look, just the kind of girl we need. When you come to your senses, give us a call." Just to be away from there, I snatched the card from her hand, and pivoted quickly on my heel. As I literally stormed out the door, I heard her say, "You don't know how lucky you are Mary, most women in your position, don't have this option." I left the building in a state of confused anxiety. I knew such places existed, but I never dreamed that I would encounter one. I was just glad to be away from those people, and for some reason, I felt so unclean. Safely back home, I waited until the children were in bed before I told Ben about what had happened. We were sitting next to each other on the couch as I described the situation. I noticed him squirming so I glanced at his crotch, and to my horror realized that he was getting an erection! I was shocked; I didn't know what to do. My own husband with whom I had exchanged eternal vows of faithfulness and fidelity was excited by the thought of me becoming a harlot, a common whore. I jumped up, "The idea of me becoming a prostitute excites you?" I challenged. "You like the idea of other men having sex with your wife? What kind of sick pervert are you?" I was so hurt and angry I stormed away, retreating to the guest bedroom. I refused to listen to his lame explanations and entreaties for forgiveness. Instead I spent the night alone, sleeping little, praying and crying much. I kept asking myself what kind of man isn't able to provide for his family? Does a real man turn his wife over to other men for their pleasure? I didn't talk to Ben the next morning either. I just tended to the children's needs. And let him make his own breakfast. It wasn't long after Ben left for work, while I was praying for guidance, that the registered letter arrived; we had 30 days to make our mortgage current, or the mortgage company would foreclose. Perhaps God wanted me to sacrifice myself for my family? I felt that I was attractive, but I never considered myself to be so beautiful that important men would want to pay to be seen with me. In a way, that I was offered such a chance was kinda complimentary. After all I started to rationalize, an escort isn't really a whore, she's more like eye-candy for powerful men when they are out and about. For a long time, I stood before my dressing mirror thoughtfully looking at my reflection. Slowly I undressed, imagining that I was back in that dreaded office. My ancestors came from Lithuania, so I am very fair. A little on the tall side at 5'7", I was rather skinny in high school, but have filled out now so I look attractively slim. After the babies, I took up aerobics at the local YMCA to get my figure back. No stretch marks, excellent complexion, long silken hair, I found myself running my fingers over my body, caressing myself ever so lightly. "Perhaps I am supper pretty," I whispered to myself. With a shaking hand, I reluctantly picked up the phone. Later that day, the receptionist directed me to the same office. I shivered as a feeling of foreboding washed over me as I knocked on the door. Even so, I stood tall, my head straight. "Well Mary, you know what to do." the tall imposing woman said as I closed the door behind me. Her assistant was at his place sitting beside the desk. I hadn't bothered to dress specially. I was wearing jeans and a sweater. With trembling fingers I pulled off my sweater and found the hooks to my bra. Trying desperately to imagine I was anywhere other than where I was, I stepped out of the jeans, pulled off my socks and slid my panties down until I could step out of them. There I was, stark naked in front of strangers, strangers with unimaginable, evil intentions. No one other than my husband had seen me completely naked since I had reached puberty. I knew I was blushing. I was so ashamed of what I was doing. I was careful not to make eye contact, looking straight ahead at a mirror that reflected my naked image. I was shivering all over, partly from the cool air in the room, but mostly from nervousness and humiliation. I could feel my nipples stiffen, standing out like long pencil erasers from my petite breasts, which I always thought too small to be sexy. My fine blond hair hung down upon my shoulders. My hair complimented my skin that was so pale that I can never tan. My small waist set off my hips showing I was a real woman. My relatively long, slender legs started just below the light patch of pubic hair that proved I was a true blond. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I felt trapped by my husband's inability to provide for his own family. I couldn't let my children lose their home if there was anything I could do to prevent it. And while I loved my husband, I was so hurt from his reaction of the previous night, and angry that he had gotten us in the fix we were in; I felt that I should at least see if I had the option of helping with the finances. Glancing briefly at the assistant, I felt he was gazing at me in a strangely detached way. There was no indication of lust as I would have expected, but I did catch him nodding as if in approval. Then I shifted my gaze to the woman. She too had the look about her that said she liked what she saw. It was in her eyes that I detected the look of desire. "Turn around," the woman commanded. I was happy to face away from both them and the mirror. At the same time, I felt gratified and oddly pleased that they liked the way I looked. I had never thought of myself as sexy. "Yes, you will do," she finally commented. "Your breasts aren't large, but they are nice and firm. You have good hair and skin and good proportions." "William," she said addressing her assistant. "Get her proper attire. And do something about that forest of hers." I waited in the reception area while William made several calls. Things were moving more quickly than I imagined they would. I wasn't sure what I had gotten myself into. When William returned, he took me to a very upscale woman's shop. It was obvious the sales lady had worked with William before. Between the two of them they assembled three outfits complete with shoes, thongs and stockings, but no bras. William was adamant that with my figure I shouldn't wear bras. I had to admit the outfits made me look very sexy, a look I wasn't used to. I knew the outfits were expensive, and when I asked who would pay for them William explained that he would take care of it...,and simply deduct the cost from my earnings. I realized that I was getting in deeper all the time. The next stop was a spa. I had never been to such a place before. There were several girls attending me, pampering me. They started with a mud wrap and an herbal facial. Then there was a full body massage. I couldn't help but be relaxed. Pumice treatment, brows plucked and trimmed. I was really getting into being pampered when to my horror I felt the warm wax being applied to my pubic hair. I wanted to resist, I wanted to say no, but I was powerless to stop what had been started. William directed them to take all my pubic hair while lisping to me, "Men just hate pubic stubble, and real ladies like to be smooth." OUCH! What they did to me was practically medieval! Finally I received recommendations on the best colors for makeup based on my complexion and hair. Laden with packages, I caught the train home. I couldn't help feeling that everyone on the train was paying attention to me. Both men and women were giving me that "second glance". People deferred to me more than usual. I received a nod of approval from a very beautiful woman. I was aware of a black policeman leering at me lustfully. An older woman eyed me wistfully. I was actually feeling like a different person. Things like that never happened to me before. The trip had taken longer than I had planned and Ben was already home. He had already picked up the kids, and found the registered letter. Dumbfounded as I entered he asked, "How can you go shopping when we have no money?" "It's an advance on my first paycheck." I replied. "I needed work cloths." Before he had a chance to reply I continued, "I trusted you with our finances, and look where we are. If I don't do something, we'll lose the house. You've had months to get us out of this bind, and nothing is any better. Ben, we have no choice! Unless there is there a solution you haven't told me about. Say the word, and I'll tell them to forget the whole thing, that it was all a big misunderstanding." I waited in silence for Ben to tell me what I so desperately wanted to hear. I wanted him to say that the house wasn't important. I wanted him to tell me that he loved me so much that he could never tolerate the thought of me being with another man. But the silence persisted. Ben's eyes fell; he looked so, so sad. I was starting to realize that Ben was out of his league, and I saw that he was beginning to realize that too. I was raised to forgive. I took Ben into my arms and told him everything would be alright just as if I was comforting one of the children. Later that night, I modeled one of the outfits for him. Catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror, it at first didn't register that the sensuous looking woman reflected back was me. I felt a sexiness I never felt before. I really liked the way I looked. The way the fabric draped my pale white skin, the way the cut enhanced my slim figure. I loved the way my golden hair brushed my shoulders. My new look hinted at treasures to be bestowed only on the very fortunate. I found myself responding; moving in a more sensual manner. Looking at Ben's expression, I realized a sense of power over him. It was clear he wanted to have sex with me very much. Then we did something we had never before done, we acted out a sexual fantasy. We played that I was a professional escort, and that Ben was my rich client. It was clear Ben had fun, but I was overcome by a feeling of foreboding; I knew it wouldn't stay a fantasy long. The "work" really wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. My clients were generally businessmen away from home who wanted some companionship for an evening. They were well screened, and all the payments were handled by my employer. Usually they were disguised as legitimate business expenses on a credit card. I even received a paycheck with taxes and such deducted. Most of my clients were middle aged white guys, very pleased to have a pretty young companion. My skill in exercising power over men grew. I became a seductress. I could read the longing in their eyes as they caught their first glimpse of me. I behaved as if I was a goddess meant to be desired and worshiped by men. They never hesitated to spend money on me. I dined at the finest restaurants. I sensed how proud they were to have me on their arm. They would take me dancing. I grew to enjoy being a sensual, partly wild creature on the dance floor. I loved the way my body felt dancing, expressing my new found sensual freedom. I took great satisfaction in using dance to make their longing for me increase. Some clients were foreign businessmen from Europe and even Asia. I have to say it was intriguing the first time I had a dark Hindu, but the sex wasn't anything special; he just smelled like curry. That said, a few men were rather good lovers, and to my shame I discovered that even a prostitute can experience an orgasm with the right man. A few of my clients were strong and robust and knew how to treat a lady. I found it impossible not to compare them to my husband. Of course condoms were required, and no matter how much they begged, or what they offered, I never relented. I was able to get the family out of debt. To the neighbors, we were just a typical two working parent family. That most of my work was nights and evenings meant that the children were with a parent most of the time, which was nice. Ben and my sex life even improved. I would tell him about the men I was with, and that would make him so hard. I always told Ben that no man was his match as my lover, but I wasn't always truthful. I would frequently describe one of my clients and what we did. Ben would play the role of my client, recreating what had happened to his wife. He would get so excited, acting out what some stranger had experienced with his spouse. He always came harder and more often then. And when I related how, for a huge tip, I allowed a Japanese man to have anal sex with me. That got him all worked up. He wanted very much to experience what it was like to stick his penis into a tight little ass, but I denied him that. I really didn't like it, and I found it more fun to let him know that there are some things other men get to do with me that he isn't allowed. I got a perverse sense of joy that way. After all, if he was a better bread winner, I never would have taken to the world's oldest profession. One thing that I thought odd was that while I got a fair number of foreign clients, I was never assigned a client from Africa, or even a Black American for that matter. I mentioned that to William one day. He simply said that I was one of the junior employees, and that seniority had its privileges. Then he added, "Mistress keeps the best ones for herself." Mistress was the name everybody used to address the tall blond woman I first met. One day, in the middle of winter, I received a call from William, "Mistress has the flu, and needs you to accompany a very important client of hers. His name is Kefentse. You'll meet him at the Four Seasons at six." "How exciting I thought, finally I'll get to meet one of Mistress' special clients." Mary's Story Then he added, "What ever you do, don't disappoint him. It would mean your job." I was a bit surprised and taken back by that comment. I had grown to realize that I was a very beautiful and desirable lady. To my knowledge all the clients assigned to me were quite satisfied with my services. I always dressed to go out on the town. My clients almost always wanted to be seen with me. That evening I selected a little black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline. Upon arriving, I called Kefentse's room. The voice on the other end of the line was a deep baritone with an unmistakeable African accent. After a little while I saw a a very tall, very Black man walking from the elevator. He was at least 6 and a half feet tall, and as Black as any man I had ever seen. It was obvious no white blood flowed in his veins. His features were very African, large lips, flat nose, and close cut kinky hair. I guessed him to be in his thirties. He actually looked ugly to me. The progeny of Ham as my father used to say. I sure saw no reason for him to be a special client. He walked directly over to me. "You must be Kefentse," I said as I stood, hoping my pronunciation wasn't too bad. He boldly ran his eyes over me. His gaze took me in, as if drinking me through his eyes. From my golden hair falling in lose curls upon my shoulders to my dainty ankles and black heels. "And you are?" he asked. "I'm Mary, from the agency," I responded. "Nice to meet you Mary," he replied nodding his head slightly. "You may just call me Ken for now. I need to get my coat and we'll be off. I have tickets for one of your American basketball games, but first we'll have dinner." Dinner was at one of the nicest restaurants in town. Mixed race couples are common enough that we shouldn't have attracted any attention except that Ken was so very big, black and ugly that he would stand out if he were alone, let alone in the company of a young pretty white girl wearing a wedding ring. I always wore my wedding ring to honor my husband and family for whom I was doing what I was doing. We made small talk. I told him what it was like growing up in a small town in the Bible belt, and he told me what it was like growing up the son of a mid-level government worker in a poor country. Now he had a high position in his country's government, and traveled to the states often. All the time, I saw him paying close attention to me. He would gaze at my face, looking into my deep blue eyes. His eyes would slide down my long fragile throat to the low neckline of my dress that called attention to white breasts so close, yet hidden under the clingy fabric. I could read the lust in his dark Negro eyes. I could tell that he planned to possess the dainty white creature before him. I quickly realized why he was successful. He had a very authoritative way about him. It's hard to describe, but he was always in control; he had the air of command. To my surprise, I enjoyed the basketball game. It's just amazing what athletes those men are. I never before appreciated it, but we were sitting so close I couldn't miss how physical the game was. It was obvious Ken liked being seen with a pretty white girl. While he was very courteous, I knew that I was his trophy for the evening. I like that role. It's a great feeling that men hold me in such high esteem that they want to be seen with me. Since breaking out of my restrictive role of wife and mother, my self image and self confidence had greatly increased. I realized that I was a truly beautiful woman who men desired to worship as a goddess. Only the very successful and wealthy could afford my attention. I liked the way Ken would look at me. I could tell he was appraising me by the way his glances lingered on a soft shoulder, or on my knees as my dress slid higher when I sat next to him at the game. I could tell he was liking what he saw. I knew his appetite for me was being whetted. I knew his lust was building. I like having that effect on men. It gives me a real feeling of power knowing that I can create such longings in their loins that they become putty in my hands. Since taking on my new "job", I realized that I could definitely influence my husband to do my bidding in just about anything. And I learned that I had similar power over my clients. They desperately wanted the favors that I was in a position to bestow. I proceeded to bring the tall Black man seated next to me under my spell. It was easy to press against him in the crowded seats of the game, to make sure he could smell the hint of perfume I used, to lightly touch his muscular arm or shoulder as we talked. I found that I was really enjoying myself. Often I am bored being with clients. They usually aren't very interesting people and only want to talk about themselves. But that was not the case that night. Ken was very self assured. He expressed real interest in me as a person. Even though I know little about basketball, Ken's enthusiasm was contagious and I too got into the game. I was also curious what about the man I was with, and what made him a special client who Mistress handled personally. After the game, Ken took me to a little club for drinks. This was most unusual. Most clients are so preoccupied with getting on with me that they would have made a bee line for the hotel. Ken showed no signs of being in a hurry. He appeared to be a person who wanted very much to experience as much of the city as he could. What first struck me as we entered was that all the men in the club were Black. There wasn't a white man in sight. However, beautiful white women were very prevalent. Many were dressed provocatively. And the way they were suggestively dancing with Black men was just short of obscene. I couldn't help but feel the sexual energy that filled the club. Ken got us drinks, and after sitting and taking in the scene for a bit, he led me onto the dance floor. I found myself having a pretty good time. Unlike my husband, Ken was a very good dancer. We were at a place where we fit right in with the other couples composed of large black men and beautiful white women. In that environment, I just let go of any inhibitions I might have had and started really enjoying myself. I never had such fun with a client; it was amazing. In spite of being surrounded with pretty young women doing their best to inspire lust in their partner, Ken kept his attention on me, his prize for the night. As we danced, I could see the desire in his dark eyes. I sensed his Negro craving for the delicate, soft flesh of the white race. Yes, we both knew he would have me before the night was out. But he was savoring the wait. He wanted others to see the daughter of Europe he was to shortly spend his savage African lust upon. Without intending to, I discovered my body language changing. At the beginning of the evening, I was reserved. I carried myself as the high class professional of a superior race. Yes, I was willingly on the arm of a Black man, but there was a haughty aspect to my step. By that point in the evening, I had relaxed. I was enjoying the experience. I was having fun in a fashion I could never do with my husband. I allowed my dancing to become suggestive. My body language started to say, 'I'm yours; come take me.' I wasn't dancing crudely as some of the women about me were, but I subconsciously was letting Ken know I was ready for him. I was looking forward to concluding the evening with him. I threw my head back, laughing. I touched his body with mine as we gyrated near each other. I let my hand linger on his arm when we sat next to each other. I could tell by the smile on Ken's face that he was reading the change in my attitude. He appeared more at ease with me. Always courteous and in control, he was at the same time relaxed. He knew he would have an eager companion for later. It was late by the time we finally arrived back to the hotel. On the way back, I called Ben to let him know I would be home later than usual. Back at the hotel, Ken took me directly to a large suite on the top floor. It was clear he truly was a man of means. Once inside the suite, I removed my coat and retrieved a pack of condoms from my purse. Seeing what I was doing, Ken burst out in a bass laugh. "You will not be able to use those," he chuckled. "Oh yes," I replied. "We always use protection with our clients." Still chuckling, he undid his belt, allowing his trousers to drop to the floor. From inside his shorts he pulled out the largest penis I had ever seen. I had no idea a man could be so huge. He was at least a foot long and as thick as my wrist, and he was flaccid! "My God," I uttered. "I can't take that." I was instantly overcome with a mixture of paralyzing fear, amazement, and disbelief. I had heard it said that Black men are better endowed than men of other races, but I didn't believe it. I'd not seen much variance among white guys, Asians or Indians. I just figured that the talk was just so much hype spread by Blacks to impress women. But there I was confronted by a cock that was bigger and Blacker than I believed possible. The size was inhuman. A penis that size belonged on a horse, and certainly I feared only a horse could accommodate such an organ without injury. I had visions of my vagina being stretched to tearing. Sure I had given birth, but that was after my body adjusted through hormones and months of pregnancy. And I remembered the pain that accompanied that event. I found myself backing away from the inhuman sight before me. "Before tonight is over woman, you will be begging for it," he said confidently. Standing before me, he slowly removed the rest of his clothes until he was completely naked. I was stunned by the image before me. Black as sin, and muscular. Not the over developed gym type of muscular, but toned all over. I was gazing at a black Adonis. I could sense his strength. When he moved his muscles rippled under flesh that was so black it almost had a blue hue. This is what a true Mandingo warrior must look like, I thought. "Come here," he commanded. I couldn't move. My previous willingness, even eagerness, to experience this man before me had been replaced by cold fear. I was trembling, wide-eyed before him. Everything felt cold. I was aware of nothing else except that frightening vision. William's warning about not disappointing this man crept back into my consciousness. But I didn't care at that point. I was frightened, wondering how I would escape the evening without harm. Striding to me he ordered sternly, "Get down woman and serve me with your mouth." His tone was unexpectedly harsh. It immediately created a fear of what he might do if I did not obey him. This man, who just a little while ago I was so at ease with, had so quickly morphed into a source of terror. I was trapped. But I felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he knew how he would injure me? Perhaps he knew that the only thing I could do was to service him as best as I could with my mouth. I knelt before him, as if paying homage to an ebony god. Oddly, just at that time, the thought flashed through my mind of how appalled my daddy would be if he were able to see his little girl kneeling to a naked man of the Black race. That was quickly replaced by the picture of how my husband might react. Somehow I knew that any feelings he would have of shock or disgust would be overcome with excitement. I had grown to realize that he would be stimulated by the sight of his wife giving herself over to a man of the Black race to be ravished. I felt as if I was in a dream. I was having trouble comprehending what was happening to me. There I was, a gorgeous white woman, wife, mother on her knees at the feet of a the Blackest man imaginable, with such strong African features, looking directly at an ungodly black phallus which was no longer completely flaccid. It was stirring as if it was a separate creature. It was beginning to reach out toward me, it's next victim. Unlike every other time, I was not the one in control. I was powerless, at the mercy of the naked dark African at whose feet I knelt. My stomach churned with a mixture of raw fear and excitement. Where did the excitement come from? I should have been fearing for my life, but there was a definite feeling that I was on the precipice of an exciting experience. Never before had I been in the intimate presence of such a man. A man of such power, authority and control that my every instinct was to obey and serve him. This was a true Alpha male of the species. And to be the object of desire of such a male was exciting at many levels. I realized that my vaginal juices were beginning to flow, soaking my thong. I hadn't even taken off my dress. Instinctively, I slid closer to him on my lily-white knees. I looked up at the Black giant towering over me. With a trembling hand, I first just stroked that huge Black phallus. I could feel the thick veins running through it. I reached my small hand around it, but I couldn't close fingers to thumb. The contrast of the darkest Black sex organ and my alabaster hand and wedding ring was startling. It looked so wrong; my hand looked so out-of-place. And yet that "wrongness" was so exciting and erotic! I was violating all the taboos I had grown up with. I thought to myself that this must be a true cock, so different from my husband's penis. As I was tentatively touching it, his huge Black cock jerked as if animated, and slowly began to swell and stiffen. "Kiss it woman," he ordered. "Make love to me with your pretty, sexy, white mouth." My pulse was racing, my breathing fast and shallow. Grasping the thick shaft with both my dainty snowy hands, I ran my tongue over and around the almost purple tip. I stretched my mouth over the bulbous head to see how much I could get into my mouth. The Black spongy flesh, ground over my teeth and compacted allowing its oversized tumescence to fit into my salivating mouth. My jaw extended to the maximum, I could barely reach my mouth over it. I felt that massive piece of flesh come even more alive in my hands and in my mouth, throbbing, pulsating, growing harder, growing yet larger. He had my hair in the grasp of a huge Black hand; I felt the pain of my hair being pulled as he made a fist. "That's it woman," he said letting out a low moan. "Service me with your mouth and hands. Get me ready to take you. Then you will know what it is like to be with a real man. Then you will know what is like to be a woman," he concluded. I was not aware of the importance of his last statement, but I was soon to find out. I was stroking him with both my hands as I mouthed the head of what had become a hard scepter of the Blackest flesh. I usually find oral sex disgusting, but there was something drawing me to this marvelous ebony shaft. I realized my sex was getting wet; I was responding in a physically primal way completely divorced from my conscious concerns. I was letting out little whimpers of excitement and pain which caused the hand clutching my hair to tighten, increasing my arousal even more. He stepped back to sit on a sofa, pulling me with him. He was fully hard now. I was shocked at the size of him. His lust for me had transformed his already huge Black appendage into a gigantic ebony shaft, glistening with my saliva. His desire revealed itself in the massive quantity of blood that filled and throbbed in that mighty phallus to the extent that I could actually feel his pulse. The veins stood out sharply giving odd texture to his splendid manhood. He was staring at me. I could see in his dark eyes how much he wanted to possess me. I read his need to satisfy himself upon my incredible, delicious, soft, white, youthful, female beauty. I followed him, sliding my body close. My vagina was on fire. I straddled a large Black foot so I could rub my aching clitoris against the top and rub my breasts along his leg as I continued kissing, licking, sucking and stroking him. Oily precum started flowing from him. Never had I seen anything like it. He was leaking as much as most men cum. I could smell his sex. His moans were getting louder, turning into half grunts. His clear need to take me was having it's effect. Soon I was quivering and moaning with orgasms. My body was no longer mine to control. "That's it, stroke it faster woman," he directed. I felt him responding, growing tense. I stroked faster and sucked the very tip of his engorged manhood. With an, "Ahhh," he let lose with a mighty blast of semen, striking me square in the face. My face was covered; semen was in my hair and running down my dress. Still he came, burst after burst. I had no idea a man could produce so much. Ben climaxes with a little pop of fluid, but I was covered with an inhumanly large amount black seed. Overcome and bewildered, I wiped his cum out of my eyes. "Now it is time for you to know what it is like to be a real woman," he proclaimed as he stood up. As he stood, he brought me up with him, his hand still grasping my hair. Letting go, he undid my dress, letting it fall in a sodden mass around my feet. Picking me up as if I had no weight, he carried me to the bedroom and deposited me on my back on the bed, which was conveniently turned down for us. In spite of my fears of being hurt and having unprotected sex, I landed with my legs opened to him. Throwing the covers aside he positioned himself between my legs. Grasping my thong, he tore it off without effort. Even though he had just had a massive orgasm, he was still hard as a rock. I was thinking he must be superhuman, or perhaps inhuman; a Black demon sent to punish me. "Please," I begged. "I'm afraid. You'll hurt me." But I made no effort to close my legs or deny him his conquest. Ignoring my entreaty I felt the head of his gigantic penis against my labia, slowly pushing forward, forcing the labia to part. My vagina was slick from my earlier orgasms and initially easily accommodated his slow invasion of my womanhood. But soon I felt him stretching me more than any man had ever had before. I cried out. Sensing my discomfort he withdrew a little, then slowly worked himself in a little deeper. Frightened I cried, "Please stop...don't do this...I can't...." All the while my body betraying me as my legs opened even wider in an effort to accomodate him. My pleas were cut off as he thrust in much deeper, taking my breath away. I was being stretched as never before, the pain was sharp and incessant. He was in so far, his penis was bumping against my cervix. Never before had a man filled me so. He commenced a slow in and out rhythm. Never had my vagina been so filled, never had I hurt so, never had I been so stimulated. Every nerve in my vagina was on fire. I started to orgasm, not those little pops centered at the clitoris, but big orgasms radiating out from my vagina to my extremities. Orgasms of a power I had never before experienced. I gasped for breath as great orgasms racked my body. The pain, still there, only seemed to heighten their intensity. I heard myself yelling, "Oh fuck me. Fuck me hard you Black bastard. I love your Black cock inside me...Fuck me!" With that he slowed and began pushing deeper into me. Slowly he pressed his penis against my cervix, pressing harder and moving ever so slightly. Good Lord! I felt a sharp stab of pain as he pushed hard against my cervix. "No! Stop!" I cried, but to no avail. I was totally in his power. I let go. I submitted completely to his carnal cravings. He slowly commenced to work the head of his cock into and past my cervix. I could no longer talk; the pain was excruciating. My cervix was contracting, trying to expel the shaft that was invading me. Mary's Story He was penetrating me to the very core of my womanhood. I thrashed as I could arms and legs flailing. I was crying hysterically. The pain was so intense; my whole being was impaled on his ebony cock. At the same time my orgasm unbelievably escalated. I saw kaleidoscope colors. Waves of sexual euphoria washed through every part of my body. I lost all perception of time and place. How long I thrashed in combined pain and ecstasy, I never knew. I was dimly aware of my insides being flooded with hot semen. At some point I was aware that he had withdrawn. I still lay beneath him, an exhausted, sweaty, cum covered mess. I was panting trying to regain my breath. I felt wonderful. I hurt. I was sore. I had no energy, but I was consumed by the warm glow left from the earth shattering orgasms I had just experienced. Ken moved to lie on the bed beside me. I pressed my pale white body against his Blackness, content to just be in the presence of a man who could bring a woman to such heights. I was in Nirvana. I should have been thinking about getting home to my family, but I never gave that a thought. I only wanted to be next to the man who had conquered me as no other man could. I lay there, content. I slept the sleep of pure exhaustion. It was early morning when I awoke to Ken lifting my leg and pressing his hardness against the petals of my vagina. My back was to him. He had an arm around and underneath me grasping and completely enveloping a breast in his huge hand. With a great sigh he forced his thick member deep into my vagina still slick with his semen. I left out an involuntary cry as he pressed himself against my cervix. He stopped there and began to make love to me with great long strokes. I was very sore from his last assault, but was soon overwhelmed by more huge orgasms. He pounded me, pulling me tight against his rock hard body. I just lay there quivering from recurring orgasms that shook my entire body and whimpering. I had no idea what it was like to be taken by a real man. I didn't want it to stop. How long we lay there, his huge Black cock plunging over and over again into my small white body I have no idea. I was in another place. My mind was driven to a place of orgasmic bliss by the combination of pain and extraordinary stimulation provided by his huge cock. Eventually I felt him slow and groan as I felt his hot Black seed pump into me, filling my womb from the very back of my vagina. Never before had I actually felt any other man cum inside me, but Ken came so hard, I could feel each blast of his hot Negro cum. Each blast triggering another orgasmic wave. "Oh God I love you," I murmured as he withdrew. "I know you do woman," he responded. "You belong to me now." I fell right back asleep, but it was more like an orgasm induced coma. I didn't regain consciousness until mid morning. Even though my vagina and abdomen were very sore, I felt marvelous. I just wanted to lie in bed and stroke my swollen clitoris, which I did for perhaps half an hour. Finally forcing myself to get up, I noticed a pile of hundred's on Ken's pillow. Quite a tip, I thought to myself as I surveyed the scene. Recalling that I had a family I retrieved my cell phone. I was so sore it hurt to just take a few steps. It felt as if I had been hit in the stomach with a baseball bat. Ignoring the many messages and voice mails, I called Ben. He sounded frantic when he answered. "Where are you; are you OK?" "I'm fine." I murmured. "I've been worried sick. Why didn't you come home? Why didn't you call?" Anger was creeping into his voice. "I just wasn't able to until now." I responded softly. "What do you mean, not able to?" Ben challenged, his voice rising. "I'll be home in a few hours," I replied as I closed my cell phone. Then I lay back down on the semen stained bed that smelled of Ken. I reached my fingers between my legs, and as I began caressing myself, I thought of how beautiful it was to be a complete woman. I thought about how right it was to belong to Kefentse!