0 comments/ 300993 views/ 7 favorites A Born Slut By: English Bob The situation, as Frank Doyle saw it, was not good. In fact it was very, very bad. When his friend, John O'Connor, had asked and then almost pleaded for help, Doyle knew that he shouldn't have got involved. He certainly shouldn't have got his wife, Tricia involved. But John was in trouble - big trouble. Maggie, his wife, and the Doyles' friend, had gone missing. Frank and Tricia had obviously volunteered their help in finding her. For three full days Frank and Tricia joined their friend and searched the city from top to bottom without success. John was becoming frantic as the days passed and the search produced nothing - until the note arrived. There was no mystery to the note, it simply reminded John of his gambling debts and enclosed a snapshot of John and Maggie that had been taken on holiday. There was nothing overtly sinister in the words, but reading between the lines, the three friends were not able to miss the point: John must pay what he owed or risk not seeing his wife again. Doyle knew that he and his wife should have backed off at that point - The Franco family, who John gambled with, were well known and their methods of recouping owed money notorious - but it was Tricia that immediately suggested that they should lend their friend the money. All six thousand of it. They were involved now for sure. Ray Franco watched from a street corner as the three friends arrived at the bank the following day. His brother, Al, the brains of the family, had been right. O'Connor's friends would bail him out. All Ray had to do was collect the money as they came out of the bank and bring it back home with him. Al had said that they would release the girl, but Ray hoped that he might have the opportunity of an hour or so with her first! I wouldn't be long now; all three were walking out of the bank and Ray could see a package under O'Connor's arm. Franco smiled as John O'Connor noticed him and started to walk towards him with the package. Al would be pleased, he thought, this was all going according to plan. The two men's eyes locked on to each other as O'Connor crossed the road. Then O'Connor's stride suddenly became quicker and Franco began to become agitated as the other man then broke into a run and was now sprinting towards him, a wild look on his face. This was not how it was supposed to be. Franco turned on his heels and tried to flee. But he was too late. O'Connor was faster. There was a quick scuffle and the last thing Ray Franco remembered was the thud of a heavy object on the back of his head and then darkness. Now the situation was bad, Frank Doyle t hought. Very, very bad. John could always be relied upon to act without thinking first, but this time he had surpassed himself. The three friends were talking in muted whispers in the Doyle's kitchen - The tied and trussed Ray Franco currently occupying a chair in the main lounge. "What the fuck were you thinking, John?" Doyle asked his friend incredulously. "You had the money, why not just hand it over?" "Shit! Sorry, Frank. I know I should have, but just seeing that fucker standing there and smirking at me, I had to do something. I just lost it, you know? But it's not all bad, surely? We got Franco's brother. Maybe we can trade him for Maggie." "This is a bad situation," interrupted Tricia. "We all know what the Franco's are like. They'll stop at nothing if one of their family is in trouble. You shouldn't have done this, John." O'Connor turned away. He knew his friends were right. "Okay, lets just untie him, give him the cash and get him out of here." He said, defeatedly. "I just pray that Maggie's still alright." His voice trailed off. Ray Franco, unperturbed by his recent assault, was now fully awake and sat up in the hard backed chair as the friends entered the lounge. "You guys are dead!" he spat. "You're all dead!" "Just shut up Franco." shouted Doyle, "we're letting you go. Take the money back to your brother and release John's wife, okay?" Franco smiled - a sickly, broad grin. "You gotta be kidding me!" he said "You're gonna have to do better than that if you ever want to see that redhead again!" Frank Doyle had been expecting something like this, but O'Connor still seemed confused. "What do you mean? We're letting you go and paying you, now just let me have my Maggie back! If you touch one -" "What is it you want, Mr. Franco?" Tricia interrupted. Like her husband, she too had been expecting some sort of retribution for O'Connor's reckless actions. "That's better!" replied Franco, the sickly smile never leaving his dark face. "First, untie me, bitch! Then you can pour me a shot of that Jack Daniels over on the table there." Doyle and O'Connor stood shocked by Franco's verbal abuse of Tricia. Doyle moved forward to defend his wife, but Tricia shushed him calmly - there was no point in aggravating the situation further. Franco rubbed his released wrists and snatched the offered drink. The liquid burned his stomach as he emptied the contents of the glass in one hit. "You guys are in a whole bunch of trouble - you know that, don't you? But, just maybe, there's a way out of this so you three and the pretty redhead can all see another day!" Tricia stood in front of him, watching him calmly. "What do you have in mind, Mr. Franco?" "Well, I was quite looking forward to an hour or so alone with the redhead. You do exactly what I say and I might persuade my brother to let you all live!" Tricia stood still. Calm and pensive. She had been expecting something like this. Ray Franco was well known for his liking for rough sex, and she had caught him looking at her large breasts under the thin fabric of her white blouse. She knew she could handle him - question was, would she be able to handle the reaction of John or her husband? "You can start by showing me your tits!" Franco blurted out. Doyle watched in shocked fascination at his wife's reaction to Franco's instruction. He had never been the jealous type fortunately, and had known all about her affairs. But this was all together a different thing. He wanted to shout out. To punch Franco and to stop what was happening, but he knew the trouble that they were in: If Ray Franco reported to his brother what had happened, they would all be hurt. Tricia would be raped anyway and John would certainly never see his wife again. Doyle decided to swallow his pride and let Tricia deal with the situation. Tricia was dealing with it in her own way. The buttons of her white blouse were undone and she was in the process of shrugging the garment from her shoulders. "Don't forget the bra!" cried Franco. She could see that he was enjoying this immensely and noticed a hard lump outlining the crotch of his jeans. The bra quickly followed and joined the blouse in a heap on the carpeted floor. Tricia was no prude. She enjoyed displaying her body - especially her breasts. She cupped them in her hands. They were large, but still nice and firm. She loved the way that her nipples were so sensitive and felt a shiver run up her spine as her fingers touched the buds. "Nice!" murmured Franco as he unzipped his pants and produced his erect tool. "Very, very nice!" Ray Franco continued with his instructions as he masturbated and Tricia obeyed without question. Her shoes and jeans soon joined the rest of her clothes on the floor and, when finally her tight cotton panties slithered down her legs, she stood before the room completely nude. Doyle had long since forgotten about attempting to stop his wife from disrobing. He was enjoying the display far too much and could feel his own hard-on straining in his pants. He also knew that Tricia was no longer being coerced - the small beads of fluid that he could see on her pussy lips gave away her considerable excitement. Doyle wasn't completely surprised at that - Franco had a very large cock and Tricia could hardly keep her eyes from it as he slowly stroked it. He watched his wife lick her lips in obvious anticipation as Franco spoke once again. "Hop up here, bitch!" he said, slapping his thighs playfully, "It's time to introduce that wet cunt of yours to my cock!" This time Tricia acted immediately. All other thoughts had disappeared. She knew one thing and one thing only: she had to have that big cock inside her - and the sooner the better. Franco was still seated on the hard backed chair and, throwing her leg over his lap, Tricia straddled him with her back to him. The chair was quite low and Franco was able to grasp her hips and guide her as she lowered herself onto him. They both gasped simultaneously at the moment of penetration, Tricia's gasp turning into a squeal of ecstasy as she sat down on Franco's lap and allowed the full extent of his shaft to slide deep inside her pussy. Doyle was fixated. He couldn't seem to move. Thinking about his wife's various affairs had always turned him on, but seeing her get fucked by such an impressive weapon was quite a different matter. He desperately wanted to masturbate but thought better of it. He contented himself with squeezing his prick surreptitiously through the fabric of his pants and watching the display his slut wife was currently putting on. Tricia was riding up and down on Franc's cock for all she was worth. Her hands were at her tits, the fingers squeezing and tugging her nipples as she climbed higher and higher to what Doyle knew would be a crushing orgasm. Her eyes were tight shut and he watched closely as her legs began to tremble and her knees buckled. She moaned deeply as she came - one hand flying down to her groin and frantically rubbing her clearly visible clitty. The moan intensified until it became a high pitched wail. She bit her lip as the climax washed over her shuddering body and Franco had to grip her tightly around the waist to keep himself inside her. "My turn now!" Cried Franco as he pushed her shaking body forward and released his engorged member from her hot, wet pussy. "I'm gonna cum in you - but not in your cunt. I wanna cum in your ass!" With that, Tricia was pushed firmly to the ground on her front. Doyle and O'Connor could see the smooth, round cheeks of her butt as she moaned her consent. Franco was on her in a second. His knees were planted on either side of her hips and he used his fingers to pry her buttocks apart. "Mmmm," he groaned as he began to massage some of her orgasmic fluid into the tight, star shaped hole, "You got a sweet little pucker there, bitch! I'm gonna enjoy fucking you in the ass!" Franco wasted no more time with the lubrication process. He stoked his hard tool once and pushed two inches straight into Tricia's back door. Doyle heard his wife scream and them groan deeply as she was assaulted. Inch by inch Franco pushed himself into her, moaning about how nice and tight she was and that she was a complete slut for enjoying it so much. Doyle knew that he was right; He was married to a total slut, a born slut and - he loved it! Franco's self control had been enviable, but Tricia's tight asshole was too much even for him. With a sudden shout of triumph he quickly withdrew and Doyle and O'Connor watched fascinated as his twitching and jerking cock came in to view. Franco's eyes were screwed tight shut and he was muttering under his breath. It almost sounded like a prayer to the other two men and they looked on as he began to cum. Spurt after spurt of thick, white liquid discharged from the tip of his spasming tool and landed on Tricia's upturned buttocks. She twitched and moaned every time she felt the fluid scorch her skin and her body shook into another orgasm. Franco finished by wiping his juice stained cock over and between her quivering butt cheeks. Leaving the gasping and trembling Tricia still face down on the floor, Franco slowly dressed himself. The grimace of sexual gratification had left his face and had, once again, been replaced by the sickly smirk. It was as if he had always been in control. He picked up the package of money and raised his zipper. He turned towards Doyle and O'Connor. "That's a sweet little slut you got there, man!" he said, "I'll be coming back later for another taste! Don't worry," he continued directing his eyes at O 'Connor, "I'll be sure to bring the redhead with me. I think a little three way action maybe on the cards!" Frank Doyle heard his friend groan as he realised that Maggie was going to have to go through a similar experience. He looked down at Tricia - his slut - his wife - still twitching on the carpet in post-orgasmic ecstasy. She was smiling and Doyle knew that Franco was right. Tricia was a born slut and the day was not yet over! A Born Slut I guess you could say that I knew I was going to grow up to be a slut when I let my brothers sell peeks to their friends to look up under my skirt as a young girl. Now you might get the idea here that I was loose with my favors, but until I met John Harcore, or Hardcore as I call him, I’d never really had a cock in my pussy. Rich men marry virgins. My mother always said, “It’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is to fall in love with a poor dumb son-of-a-bitch.” And she was right because I gave up my cherry to my 28 year old husband John on our honeymoon the day I turned 18. Funny thing is mom never mentioned how much kinkier rich men were than poor ones as John was more a watcher than a fucker it turned out. Hell, just the idea of me doing it with other cocks made him hard as a rock, and he was kind enough to explain it all to me during our honeymoon, too. “You want to do what?!” I gasped as he brought me to the umpteenth multiple orgasm on the third day of our honeymoon. “I want to watch you having sex with others,” he replied again, “men, women, dogs, cats, horses snakes, or anything else we can come up with.” “I’ve heard of swinging, John, I’m not that innocent, but I don’t think I’d care to share you with anyone else.” “I wasn’t talking about me, dear,” came out of his mouth as if I should have understood what he’d been talking about all along. “I’m voyeuristic in nature, you see. I get off watching more than I do actually fucking. And watching my wife have sex would be the ultimate thrill of all time.” “But I want you to fuck me,” I whined. “And I will, honey, but I’d also like to spread the wealth around, too. I’m no young pup anymore you know.” “You could have fooled me,” I giggled, squeezing my cunt around his semi hard cock, and feeling it throb back to life again. “Well, this is our honeymoon, and you should be broken in right irregardless of my personal desires in this matter. But the truth is I get hard just thinking of you doing this with some other cock than my own, otherwise I’d go soft in nothing flat.” “So by fucking some other cock I’d be performing my wifely duty to you?” “Exactly.” “But you will fuck me in between these... affairs, won’t you?” “Baby, you can fuck anybody, or anything you want as long as you don’t fall in love with them instead of me. And that’s the only condition I’ll ever put on you other than allowing me to watch, of course.” “I’ll tell you this,” I replied, “I’ll never love anyone else the way that I love you. And that’s a promise. You took my cherry, so I guess you can pimp me out to whomever you want to. I am your wife after all.” “What about you?” He asked then. “Ever do anything kinky?” We talked, and fucked the rest of the afternoon away. I told him about my brothers, and daddy, and how I had even let our pet Dachshund lick me to an orgasm once when I was so horny that I could barely stand up. He told me about his other women, and how he had once sucked another man’s cock while in a three way with his first wife Elaine. She’d died in a car wreck two years earlier when a drunk driver had smashed into her car head on while she was on her way home after screwing her first black man. It had taken John ten years to get up the courage to talk her into the same arrangement he wanted now with me. And as I loved him dearly I had no intention of waiting that long to fulfill Elaine’s legacy. “What say we take a bubble bath, and order some room service for dessert?” I suggested. “I can dress up like a slut, and everything so that the bell hop won’t have to second guess what I really want from him when he arrives.” “You do realize that the help here is mostly black, right?” John asked. “And you do realize that with those louvered doors,” I pointed at the closet, “you can see everything that we do without spooking the help, right?” “Baby! You’re the greatest!” “And you’d better love sloppy seconds, thirds, and so on,” I retorted. “Oh, I do, baby. I do.” An hour later I stood in front of the full-length mirror provided by the hotel. I’d had to improvise by using my white satin garter belt that I’d worn under my wedding dress, and a pair of smoky black nylon hose that I was going to buy another garter belt for on our honeymoon to go dancing in. I had a black demi bra that showcased my nipples as they held up against the underside of my breasts only, so I put that on, and a pair of black leather high heels, and to round out the ensemble I put on the sheer black night robe that fell down to my ankles, and hid nothing underneath it. “How do I look?” I asked. “You’d look great in a potato sack,” John chuckled, “but as long as we’ve gone this far how about if I give your pubic thatch a little trim, too?” “Like how little a trim?” I asked. “I don’t want to be scratching myself in public you know.” “I’ll tell you what. I’ll use the razor on you now, then when we get home you can get a wax job, or electrolysis to keep it that way.” “Fair enough,” I replied, then sat down on the towel he provided, and laid back to let him shave my pubes. I was amazed at how I looked afterwards. He’d shaped a thick matt of my blond pubic hair into a diamond above my clit, and shaved the rest of my mound, and slit totally bald down there. “Better than a Playboy Bunny centerfold,” he commented as we both stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror again. He was right and I gasped as I realized that I looked just like one of those stapled belly button blonds in my brothers magazine drawer with the make up and clothes I had on. I could already feel my pussy getting dripping wet with excitement at what I was about to do. “Call room service,” I said tartly, “and have them bring up a bottle of champagne, and some strawberries. I’m ready for some hard throbbing black meat!” By the time I had John safely tide up to a straight-backed chair. And tucked securely in the closet so as not to disturb us by jacking off while watching my first affair with a total stranger. There was the familiar knocking at our door. “Room service!” Benjamin is one of those not exactly sky scraper, but very lanky ex-college basketball players who have followed the lead of their peers in the pros by keeping his head shaved to attract the opposite sex. An extremely thin man he was wiry as hell, and had a bulge in his pocket two seconds flat after I opened the door to let him in. “Now that’s what I call Room Service,” I commented as he brought the table with the wine, and strawberries on it into our suite. And to make my point I grabbed his hog leg through his trousers, and offered my lips up to him for a kiss as I shut the door behind him. “Aren’t you here on your honeymoon?” “Let’s just say that he’s gone sight seeing to catch his second wind, and you’re here as his stand-in,” I replied just before his lips met mine, and his black hands grabbed onto my white ass through the robe. I was panting for breath in no time. “Let’s consider this a tip then,” he said breaking from the kiss, “shall we?” And he lifted me up, and laid me down on my back on the bed. His hands like that of a magician’s as he soon had my robe, and all of his own clothes scattered about the carpeted floor. All the while fondling, kissing, and probing at my flesh as he prepared me for the main event making me purr like a contented cat as I melted before his onslaught. He made suckling on my breasts an art form in itself, and licked my pussy as if his tongue were the baton of a maestro leading an orchestra. I had cum hard four times before I suddenly found him hovering over top of me between my wide spread white legs with his black cock nudging up against my wet slit, and ready to fuck me. His big toothy grin glaring in the middle of a field of night was startling. For the first time in my life I was about to break two taboos at the same time, and all with one stranger with a big black cock as my husband watched from inside a closet tied up. Now it wasn’t as if Ben’s cock was the size of a small pony’s, it wasn’t. But it was close to a foot in length, and every bit as thick as John’s cock, and looked so much bigger because of his scrawny bearing. Much like a number two pencil sticking out of a toothpick would look. However it felt more like a telephone pole going in when Ben started to thrust into me, and was almost like loosing my virginity all over again. I’m sure I squealed like a stuck pig the whole time he entered me, but I was soon cooing as my body took up the gauntlet of pure lust, and slapped me silly with it. I came just from having that black cock enter my pristine blond fringed snatch for the very first time. It felt like he was splitting me in two as he placed my legs up on his shoulders to help get his cock as far up my cunt as he could, and I wallowed in the sluttish display I was making of myself for my husband, and this strange black man. Over, and over again his cock pounded in, and out of my pussy like some ancient battering ram storming a castle. I was on my seventh gut busting multiple orgasm when he suddenly yanked his cock out of my pussy, and slammed it all the way up my ass by mistake. I would have screamed bloody murder if we hadn’t been kissing at that moment. As it was the pain quickly subsided as he continued banging that black pole with deep solid strokes in and out of my ass, and thumbed my clitty at the same time. I felt so completely helpless, and dirty with that black cock up my white fanny. I realized then that he’d done it on purpose, but as it felt so wickedly good by then I forgave him by spiraling down and crash landing into my eighth orgasm. “You are one dirty married white bitch, aren’t you slut,” he snickered then, and suddenly I could feel him cuming deep in my bowels, and that’s when I passed out. I woke up to find both my cunt, and asshole getting fucked with me on top of Ben, and another black man waiting next to the bed jerking his cock near my face. A quick look over my shoulder made it clear to me that no one else in the hotel was getting any room service as they were all in my room taking turns fucking me to multiple climax’s 9 and 10. “I told you she’d love it,” John’s voice squeaked from my left, and I found him in a comfortable chair jerking off as he watched me being serviced by three black men as I was now sucking on the third black cock in the room. I could hardly believe it. Married only three days and I had already surpassed the relationship John had had with his first wife. I was so proud of myself that I made sure all three black men came on the front of me for John’s voyeuristic delight. And once they were gone John jumped my bones missionary fashion wallowing in their splooge, and even licking up a lot of it from my neck, face, and titties. “You are such a gorgeous slut, hon,” he whispered as we fell asleep with his dick lodged firmly up my ass spoon fashion. And he was right, I felt so wonderfully contented, and raunchy. I’d been born to be his perfect little slut. I just needed to do a little shopping to look the part. We spent two weeks in the Bahamas before heading home, but while there I had sex with close to 50 black men, not to mention 10 other men of various ethnic backgrounds. However I had to agree with John that there was definitely something more when I was having sex with black men. And we made a pact that I would mostly fuck black, or men of color for John’s viewing, and my sexual pleasure from now on. The stark contrast in coloring between them and me was just too sleazy exciting to quit now.