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Why?... 01

By: mikoli5763



I was sixteen feet in the air on a platform scissor lift when I saw my foreman rush into the shell of the building we were working on. He waved for me to come down before he ran toward my location. He was at the back of the lift by the time I reached the ground.

"I'll take care of your tools, Martin! You need to get to the trailer! There's a Tennessee Highway patrolman waiting for you!"

"What does he want? Is it Renee? Has something happened to her?"

"I don't know! All he said was you needed to go with him now!"

I ran to the construction site's office trailer as fast as I could which left my 43 year old, forty pounds overweight body gasping for breath. 

"I'm sorry to have to put you in the back, but its regulation, sir." The trooper told me as he held the back door to his cruiser open.

"Has something happened to my wife, Renee, officer?" I managed to squeeze out between the wheezes I was having trying to catch my breath.

"She was the passenger in a vehicle involved in a crash, sir."

"How badly is she hurt, officer?" I knew it had to be serious or they wouldn't have sent him to get me.

"I don't have any information on her condition, sir. I was instructed to get you to Green County Memorial Hospital as quickly as possible."

The conversation above took place as we sped along the city streets of the town the construction site was in with the siren blasting. It was thirty miles to the hospital that Renee was in. With the after lunch traffic it would have taken me a good fifteen minutes to get to the open highway. The trooper did it in five and the twenty five minute drive it would have taken me to do at the speed limit took him fifteen. That was the longest twenty minutes of my life. All I could do was speculate on what had happened and how badly was Renee hurt.

As soon as the trooper opened the back door for me, I was running into the ER of my local hospital. I looked around the waiting room and saw my double sister Dawn, my mother-in-law Doris, and my stepfather-in-law Roy Lee huddled together in a three person hug in the far corner. Dawn and Doris were crying and I could see the glisten of tears in Roy Lee's eyes as he struggled not to join them. I knew that Renee was gone before I even ran over to them.

"Oh Martin, she's gone! My daughter is gone!" Doris cried out when I got to them with my own tears starting to flow.

"What happened? Was anyone else hurt? Will they let me see her?" Those were the first questions that came to me as the four of us hugged each other there in the corner.

"All we know was that she was a passenger in Dr. Rogers' car when the accident occurred. Both of them are dead, him almost instantly and Renee not five minutes before you got here!" Dawn explained to me. "You'll have to ask the nurses or doctor if you can see her."

I went to the registration desk, told the lady there who and why I was there, and asked if I could see Renee. She stepped away from me as she called someone and had a brief conversation with them. She informed me that someone would come and talk to me shortly. I walked over to the nearest chair and plopped down in it. Renee's family, who had become mine from the marriage vows Renee and I had exchanged, gathered round me. My mind was blank and my body numb as I sat waiting for someone to try and explain to me how the love of my life and soul mate for the last twenty two years had been taken from me. 

"Mister Banks, I'm Dr. Rush. I'm sorry for your loss. We did everything we could to save your wife, but her injuries were too severe. After the nurses have finished cleaning her body, one of them will let you see the body for five minutes alone. Only you and immediate family will be allowed to see the body. Again I'm sorry for your loss."

It was another fifteen minute wait before a nurse came and got me. Dawn and Doris wanted to know if I wanted them to go with me, but I declined their offers. I wanted to spend my five minutes alone with Renee's body so I could say my last goodbye in private.

Renee's body was in a small exam room that had the curtains closed on both the window and the door window. As soon as the nurse had left, I bent over and placed a kiss on her cool lips. The hand that I grasped was already cold and I realized that my Renee was truly gone. I rushed out of the room before my five minutes were up. I couldn't spend another moment with the shell that once held the spirit of my beloved wife. When I got to the waiting room, I saw my younger brother and Dawn's husband, Ray, holding Dawn while she went through another bout of crying. The nurse allowed him and Roy Lee to accompany their wives in the viewing of Renee's body. I took the minutes alone to call the funeral home that Doris's nephew owned and began the process that would end in the cremation of Renee's body. 

Renee and I had both discussed what we wanted done when we died and agreed on cremation. Part of the reason we came to that conclusion was the expense we had struggled to pay when our only child had drowned while on a Boy Scouting canoe trip. Martin Junior was fourteen and our only offspring due to the complications Renee went through during his gestation period and birth and died when the canoe he was in capsized and he drowned after being knocked unconscious when his head hit a rock under the water of the Class One rapids the troop had been canoeing through. His funeral, even with a family discount, had taken Renee and me three years to pay off. We decided that the insurance money that the survivor would receive would be better spent on other things besides putting a body in a box in the ground. I had always assumed I would go first.

I had met Renee in the same ER as the one I was in now. I was a third year electrician's apprentice and had twisted my ankle when I stepped on a piece of conduit that I didn't see because of the box of material I was carrying and it rolled from under my foot. Renee was the LPN who took my vitals before they put me in an exam room. We were both twenty one and a mutual spark had passed between us. She didn't hesitate when I asked for her phone number. We were together in spirit from that moment on. We talked on the phone every day and our first date culminated back at my apartment where we made love to each other for the first time. Renee wasn't a virgin, but was very inexperienced, which combined with my own inexperience led to a less than satisfactory first attempt for both of us. I didn't last long enough and Renee didn't even get close to an orgasm. I was determined to please her and replaced my cock with my fingers and mouth on and in her wet sex. I had used a condom so only her juices and the lubricant from the condom were on her pussy's lips and inside her. I managed to give her an orgasm after I begged her to tell me what to do and how to do it to bring her to orgasm. I had regained my hard on and was able to give Renee an orgasm with my dick the second time I fucked her that night. Renee remained with me in my bed the rest of the night and we would eventually get another apartment together. The apartment I was renting was in my grandmother's basement and she made it very clear we weren't going to live in sin in her house.

Renee and I lived together for a year before we married. We helped each other learn the joys of sex. I was not a selfish lover and begged her to teach me in pleasing her. I coached her in how to give me a pleasurable blowjob. Renee was a little prudish when we first got together, but she overcame that part of her upbringing again with my help and encouragement. After our marriage, our sex life was great with each of us doing all we could to please the other. Even after Martin Jr. was born we continued to have the best sex we could ever imagine. Even after twenty two years we still were having sex three or four nights a week.

It was a couple of weeks after the stress of Renee's death, the argument of having her cremated that Doris and I had, the memorial service, and the slight easing of my grief before the question of why Renee was in Dr. Rogers' sports car entered my head. I knew there was one person who would know the answer, if I could get her to tell me, so I called Lori Whiting, Renee's best friend besides me and a fellow RN at the hospital.

"Lori, I know you know why Renee was with Dr. Rogers that day. Please, I need you to tell me even though I might not like what you tell me. I can only think of one reason she'd be with him after lunch and on her day off. I need to know the truth. Please, Lori?" I said to my dead wife's friend the day we finally managed to have lunch together.

"You think they were having an affair don't you, Martin?"

"Yes, and I can't imagine why? Renee was at least ten years his senior and to be honest between thirty to forty pounds overweight. He had that beautiful younger wife that we both know was at least four numbers above Renee on the men's one to ten scale. Why would he want to have an affair with her and why would she need to have one with him? Except for the first time we had intercourse, I've always done whatever I needed to make sure she enjoyed sex as much as I did!"

"Martin, I'm asking you as a friend to let this go. They are both dead and you're only inviting more pain into your life if you push for the truth."

"So I'm right; they were having an affair!" Lori sat back away from me as I yelled at her even though I hadn't meant to. "Please tell me. I don't think it can hurt any worse knowing the truth."

"Yes, they had been having an affair, but that day was the last time she was going to be with him. That might have contributed to him driving so fast and the cause of the accident. Unlike you, he didn't care if Renee enjoyed the sex or not. She told me he never made her feel the way you did when you made love to her. She told me he only gave her a couple of orgasms the entire two months they were seeing each other."

"TWO MONTHS!" I yelled again causing Lori to shrink back away from me again. "She was fucking him for two months and I didn't even suspect a thing." I sank down into my seat and began to cry harder than I had at any time during the ordeal caused by Renee's death.

"Renee loved you very much, Martin. I don't know everything, but I do know she loved you and admitted to me that she had made a mistake. Martin, you need to let this go. You're only going to cause yourself more pain unless you do. Please Martin, remember the great years you had with Renee, not the last two months of her indiscretion. She did love you with all her heart and soul. She told me of that first day you all met and the way she felt when she touched your arm. She knew you felt it, too. Martin, she was and remained your soul mate. Remember that and nothing else."

"Why? Can you at least answer me that?"

"It was mostly vanity on her part, Martin. She was an overweight woman nearing middle age and here was a younger, extremely attractive, charismatic man showing an interest in her. He kept complimenting her and telling her how much he would like to fuck her and it went to her head. She couldn't resist, but realized that it was a mistake the first time."

"Then why did she continue for two months?"

"He continued to pursue her and it continued to be exciting is all I know, Martin."

"Was he the first or had she been cheating on me all these years, Lori?"

"I swear he was the first and was going to be the last. Renee realized what she had with you was special and wasn't going to jeopardize that again. That was the last time they were going to be together and Dr. Rogers was going to accept it or lose a whole lot more than Renee would have if it came out."

"Why did he want her?"

"She told me he was always complaining about his wife not being good in bed. He overheard me and Renee talking one day at lunch. Renee and I told each other everything and she had blurted out how much she enjoyed sex with you. Dr. Rogers began coming onto her after that." 

I had been wrong about knowing the truth about that day not hurting any worse than Renee's death had hurt. Instead of a big empty hole in my heart where Renee had been, I now had a heart that was torn in two. I stumbled away from Lori as the tears ran anew down my cheeks. My love, my life's purpose, and the one person I had trusted completely had cheated on me and I couldn't even do anything about it because she was gone.

For the next three months I was like a zombie. I went to work, went home, sat in my recliner with the TV on and didn't feel anything, not even pain. I didn't think about the past or the future; I merely existed. On the weekends I didn't leave the house and only left my recliner to go to the bathroom. I was clinically depressed and if my family hadn't stepped up and helped me I would have been sharing the double sized urn Renee and I had picked out so that our ashes would be together forever just as our spirits had been until my learning of her affair.

My brother Ray as my next of kin had me committed to the mental health facility that was located in our county. It was fourteen days before the doctor and nurses could get me to say anything more than yes or no. It was another fourteen days before I was speaking coherently and another ten before the doctor felt it was safe to let me go home. While I had been in the mental health facility, mys had gone through the double wide trailer that Renee and I had been paying for and removed all of her clothes, toiletries, and all but one of the pictures that I had of Renee. The only one they left was our wedding picture. My family began forcing me to go out with them to get me out of the house. 

It was six months after Renee's death before I awoke with the first erection I'd had since the night before the accident. (Renee had been extremely affection that evening when I got home from work and had given me the most pleasurable blowjob minutes after my entering our home. I had given her an orgasm with my mouth and then two more with my second hard on of the evening.) It was a Friday so I decided at that moment that after work I was going to try and get laid.

I went to a local nightclub that was geared to people in my age group. I drank club soda because I had almost drunk myself to death after Martin Jr.'s death; but Renee had kicked my ass, literally, and made me promise not to drink again. I danced with some of the women that none of the other men went near. Most of them were overweight, but that didn't bother me. Renee had never been thin and I wasn't an Adonis myself. Wanda was the one woman who seemed to warm up to me while we were dancing so I invited her to my table. I bought her several drinks and we danced a couple of more times. She knew I was aroused when she felt my erection against her during one of the slow dances we danced together. When she had finished the last drink I had bought her before that last dance, I invited her to go home with me. The pain and embarrassment she gave me when she laughed in my face was almost enough to drive me back into my former depressed state. 

I left the club and went home. When I got there, I opened up the closet that had the full length mirror that Renee had me install when we first moved in and that mys had missed. I removed my clothes and looked at myself. 5'8" tall, barrel chested and broad shouldered like my father had been, big belly from forty extra pounds overhanging my flaccid dick, a full head of brown hair with a touch of gray starting to show even though I was only 44, unlike my dad who was bald except for a strip that started above the ears and went all the way around the back of his head when he was my age, muscular arms from physical labor, small butt compared to the rest of my body, muscular thighs but thin calves, permanently swollen ankles from numerous sprains over the years; no wonder an overweight, half-drunk woman had laughed at me. If I'd been a woman, I wouldn't have wanted to fuck me either. I decided I was going to get into shape starting the next day.

I went to the local 24-hour fitness center the next day. When Ashley, the pert twenty something receptionist, informed me that a nutritional consultation and a personal trainer would cost seventy five dollars a month; I almost choked. I was struggling with the bills now and couldn't afford that. I also knew I wouldn't succeed on my own. Renee and I had both tried to lose weight many times on our own and together and had failed. I was determined to lose the weight this time so I asked to speak to the manager.

"Hello sir, I'm Martin and I would like to talk to you about maybe trading some services for a membership. I have to lose some weight and need help doing it. I've tried in the past and failed. I'm an electrician by trade and could help fix and maintain some of your equipment. I'll sweep up, mop, clean the pool, and every other menial job no one else wants. I'll do almost anything, sir."

"My name is Dennis and I'm not just the manager but part owner. What did you want in a membership and why can't you pay the monthly rate?"

"I need nutritional guidance and a personal trainer. I know myself and without someone pushing me, I'll quit. My wife was killed in a car wreck six months ago and I'm barely paying my existing bills without adding to them."

"I have an idea for a promotional for the gym, but haven't found anyone to agree to do it. The idea is for the gym to take a before picture and then an after of someone obese who loses weight and keeps it off for five years. The picture would be of the whole body with the person wearing a pair of trunks or gym shorts only. Would you be willing to do that?"

"For a full membership with the other things I mentioned, yes I would."

"Okay, let's get started then."

I followed Dennis into the men's locker room where he gave me a pair of gym shorts with the fitness center's name on them. I posed in the poses Dennis directed me to take as he took pictures of my flabby body. We then went into his office and I signed the special membership papers he had gotten made for his promotion. I didn't have to pay anything unless I quit working out in the center. I had to pay two months fees plus a $500.00 penalty if I did quit. The before picture would be life sized and hang over the reception area starting the next week. Dennis took me out to the center and began working me out. He could tell how bad out of shape I was in after only five minutes. Strength wise I was above average for a man of my age, but cardio wise I was equal to a man twice my age. Dennis had mercy on me that first day and let me stop after only twenty minutes. He gave me a meal plan and ordered me to start it that day. I stopped at the supermarket and got a fresh salmon steak and the vegetables the meal plan called for to go with it plus the food I'd need for breakfast and lunch. I went home and threw all the junk food and sweets away like Dennis had told me to do.

I had a new trainer the next day and we began after I had met with the nutritionist and gotten a more detailed and varied meal plan than the one Dennis had given me. Mike, my new trainer, didn't show me any mercy and I ended up vomiting in a plastic bucket after only thirty minutes doing the exercises Mike put me through. He allowed me to rest and re-hydrate before starting me out again. I managed not to puke again and dragged myself to the showers thirty five minutes later. I worked out with Mike every day except for Sunday when I was on my own. It took me two weeks before the soreness left me and another three months before I could do the full routine without a break. One year after starting, I had lost thirty of the forty extra pounds I had been carrying. I did take some ribbing from the other members when my before picture was first posted, but ignored them.

I had gotten the pay out from the two life insurance policies that were on Renee. I paid off her car, then sold it, and paid off the loan on the double wide; putting the rest in the bank. I had hired my friend, McDonald Hood, a Harvard law school grad, old scouting buddy who had told me his wife, who he dated all through high school and college, was the reason he had came back to our hometown; to sue Dr. Rogers' estate and auto insurance company for his causing Renee's death. He asked for $5 million at my insistence and he was in final negotiations with $3 million or a little less appearing to be the final number. Besides Lori I had Janet Blankenship, another of Renee's fellow nurses, who would testify to the doctor's affair with Renee. Mac was using that information as leverage to get the settlement we wanted. 


Why?... 01



After my first year of working out, my body had changed from flabby to firm and I began to be surprised by the women who came onto me; the biggest surprise coming from Ashley the receptionist I had talked to that first day.

"Hello Marty, you're looking good."

"Hello, Ashley. I don't mean to be rude but call me Martin. Only four people call me Marty and three of them are dead."

"I'm sorry, Martin. I was wondering if you'd join me for a drink after your work out."

"I don't drink, but I'd be glad to sit and watch you drink, say in about an hour and a half."

"Sounds great, see you then!" 

I watch as she flounced her 24 year old, blonde haired, slim and trim body across the floor away from me, her ass cheeks swaying to and fro and giving me an instant hard on. The middle aged woman on the weight machine beside me saw it and smiled at me. I returned to lifting the weights and concentrating on losing my erection. I managed to accomplish both tasks before I left the machine. I finished my routine and went to shower. Ashley was waiting on me just outside the men's locker room door and wrapped my arm up with both of hers as we left the building.

"Will you drive, Martin?"

"Tell me the way to go and I'll drive you wherever you want to go, Ashley."

I followed her directions and was soon pulling into a parking spot outside of a multi-building apartment complex.

"I don't see a bar around here, Ashley."

"The bar is in my apartment, silly." Ashley told me before she started to giggle. She then bent over and kissed me hard while putting her hand in my crotch. When she stuck her tongue in my mouth, my cock became fully engorged with blood and hard in her hand.

"Except for masturbation, I've not done anything for eighteen months, Ashley. If you don't stop, I'm going to come in my shorts."

"We can't waste that!"

Ashley began unbuckling my pants and unzipping them. She managed to get my hardened cock out into the open and bent over, taking it into her mouth. I spurted into her mouth after only a couple of hard sucks from her and she swallowed every drop of my salty seed. I surprised her when I grasped her face in my hands and kissed her hard when she had risen up. I didn't ease up on kissing her mouth until she reached up and pushed me away.

"Martin, I need to get fucked badly. Can you get it up again?" 

"Yes, in a few minutes, but I know other things I can do while we're waiting on my dick to recover! Take me to your apartment and I'll show them to you!"

I managed to fasten my pants before I left my truck. I ran to catch up with Ashley and grabbed her from behind before spinning her around and kissing her again. I was caressing her body as I kissed her and marveled at the difference from hers and Renee's. Ashley was the typical hard body with muscles on top of muscles where Renee's had been soft and doughy. Her 32B cupped breasts were pressing into my chest with only the fabric of her blouse between them and the open air where Renee's always needed support from being 36 DD's. The hug she was giving me let me know how strong she was. I didn't understand why a woman over twenty years my junior wanted me, but I wasn't going to turn her down. It had been eighteen months since I had sex with a woman and I was ready to get laid.

Ashley didn't wait around when we were in her apartment. She was naked almost before I could get turned around. She began pulling at my clothes and together we had me naked in short order. I could see her bedroom from the entry way so I picked her up and carried her to her bed. I laid us both down and began kissing her as I ran my right hand up and down her body. When my hand reached her sex, I discovered that it was smooth and hairless like a baby's butt. I rubbed her mound as I dropped my head to her breast and took the whole thing into my mouth. Ashley began to squirm as I sucked on her mammary flesh, tongued her nipple, and fingered her clit. She moaned then screamed before going rigid beside me. I felt her quiver and quake in the throes of a huge orgasm. It seemed like it lasted for five minutes but was really only a few seconds to maybe a minute.

I didn't ease up on my assault of her body after her climax though. I scooted down and got my head between her legs where I began to lick her slit from the bottom to her clit. Ashley's squirming began again and when I began lashing her clit with my tongue; she began to squirm even more. I had to wrap my arms around her upper thighs to hold her in place under my mouth. Ashley again moaned aloud then screamed before she went rigid as her second orgasm overtook her. I waited until she had relaxed a bit before rising up, placing my 6.5" long, 2" thick cock at her moist opening and plunging it to her core in one stroke. Ashley screamed again and then began to beg me to fuck her good and hard. I began to pump my turgid rod into her with long but hard strokes. She came twice before I felt the stirrings of my own orgasm begin. I began to fuck her with short fast strokes and felt my second eruption shoot up my shaft and into her waiting depths. Ashley moaned and squealed with each pulse of my cock within her. When we had both begun to calm down from our highs, I lay down beside her and pulled her up onto my chest.

"I don't know why you wanted me, but thank you Ashley. It's been a long time since I've had so much pleasure from fucking."

"Martin, you've turned yourself into one of the sexiest men I know. You're also the best lover I've ever had which kind of surprised me. You can have me again anytime you want me." Ashley told me before kissing me hard on the lips.

"Do you want me to take you back to your car now?"

"No, sleep with me tonight. You don't have to work tomorrow, do you?" 

"No, tomorrow's Saturday and I'm off."

"Good you can stay and we'll repeat tonight a few times more before Sunday."

I stayed the rest of the weekend with Ashley and she tried to fuck my brains out. I didn't make it to the fitness center until late Sunday afternoon. Dennis didn't even scolded me for not working out on Saturday when he saw my shit eating grin and the way I was moving, not to mention Ashley's ear to ear smile. I rode a stationary bike and then soaked in the center's hot tub before going home and straight to bed.

Fourteen months after filing the lawsuit against Brad's estate, Mac and I received our settlement. We got $3 million which Mac got a million of. Everything was sealed and not made public. Mac and Jason, an accountant that Mac trusted, helped me invest my share and the income from my investments allowed me to retire. I did splurge on a fully restored white 1978 280 Z, the last true Z from Datsun/ Nissan, and the garage to park it in. I continued to live in the double wide and had the garage built onto it. I drove the ten year old Ford F-150 I had gotten for a work truck when the weather prohibited me from driving the Z. After my weekend with Ashley, I didn't have any problems in the woman department either. I had women asking me point blank to fuck them. The only ones I turned down were the ones with wedding rings on their fingers. Ashley and I continued to hook up once a week until she met a young man she became serious with.

Not having to go to work left me with more free time so I began going to the fitness center in the early mornings and staying till early afternoons. I went to the fitness center in the early evenings only when I was horny and looking to get laid. I always left with a desirable woman on my arm and we would spend the rest of the night pleasuring each other in either her bed or mine. Only a couple of the women commented on my still living in a double wide, but changed their attitudes after I gave them multiple orgasms with my fingers, mouth, and cock. 

Two and a half years after Renee's death and two years after I decided to lose weight; I was down to the weight the medical profession recommended for a twenty year old male with a body type like mine. I didn't have washboard abs and never would, but I didn't have an ounce of fat on my body either. My male pattern bald spot had gotten bigger so I had shaved my head and grown a moustache. The moustache had started out brown like my head hair, but had begun changing to whitish grey shortly after coming in. I was still being hit on by most of the women that worked out in the fitness center. If I had accepted the offers from all the women who approached me, I could have gotten laid every day. I was still turning down the ones I knew were married and had been cursed out by some of them in both English and Spanish, but I wasn't going to be the cause of another husband's pain having gone through it myself.

The next big surprise for me came when Lisa and Laura, two women I had met through Renee and who worked at the hospital Renee had, approached me one evening when I was on the prowl for some pussy.

"Martin, we know why you're here this evening. Women talk about sex as much or more than men do when we're alone together. Would you like to go back to our place with us?" Lisa asked me.

"I thought the two of you were strictly lesbian and in a committed relationship. Why do you want me?"

"Martin, we sometimes like to have fun with a man, but it's not easy finding the right man. From what we've heard in the women's locker room, you sound like you'd be the perfect man to play with." Laura told me as Lisa shook her head yes. 

"It's Thursday night; don't the two of you have to work tomorrow?" 

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything." They both answered at the same time. 

"I don't think any of us will be able to do much of anything tomorrow if we spend most of the night playing with each other." I said to them matter-of-factly while I watched them both blush. "Unless things have changed I know both of you are off Saturday so why don't we wait until tomorrow night to hook up?"

"Okay, Martin see you here tomorrow night!" They told me before turning away, putting their arms around each other's waist and strolling back towards the women's locker room. Their little talk did enlighten me as to why women had begun approaching me instead of me having to approach them.

Wanting to save my energy for what I hoped would be a very pleasurable night the next day and maybe longer with Lisa and Laura, I left the center and drove toward home. Since it was still kind of early I stopped at the same club I had been embarrassed by Wanda in two years before. I got a club soda and sat in the corner watching the ritual of men and women trying to connect with someone if only for one night. I spotted Wanda five minutes after sitting down. She was alone at a table near the edge of the dance floor and was still as heavy as she had been that first night we had spent dancing together before she laughed in my face when I invited her home with me. I watched her for fifteen minutes and not one man had approached her. I saw she was frustrated enough to leave before I walked over to her. I asked her to dance and she practically jumped up when I offered her my hand. The first dance was a fast tempo number and Wanda was shaking her stuff at me and rubbing it against me for all she was worth. When the next song came up, it was a slow couples' song and I pulled Wanda into my arms to hold her close. I caressed her big body as we clung to each other and she had to have felt my erection against her big belly. When the song ended I led her back to her table.

"Why don't we go somewhere a little more private, like my house?" Wanda asked me as soon as we got back to the table. I knew it would've been a cruel thing to do and although it had been my intentions all along; I had difficulty in laughing at her like she had done me so I didn't.

"You don't remember or recognize me do you, Wanda?" 

"I've never met you before; I'd remember a hunk like you!"

"Well to be honest, I wasn't a hunk two years ago when I bought you drinks and danced most of the night with you only to have you laugh in my face when I invited you to my house."

"No, that couldn't have been you! That guy was fat and tired quickly, even quicker than me!"

"That was me and you're right about the way I was then. I was going to laugh in your face, but I couldn't do it. I'm not going home with you Wanda, but if you want to change and have every guy in this place wanting you, come down to the 24-hour fitness center and they can do for you what they did for me. You have a beautiful face and you know all that weight is what keeps the guys away. I hope you decide to lose some weight like I did. If you do, I'll definitely take you up on your offer. Good night." 

I left and went home looking forward to tomorrow night. I had fantasized about being with two women, especially two women who enjoyed girl on girl sex, but never thought I'd ever get the chance, yet here that chance was only a day away. I took it easy all day Friday so I'd be ready for whatever Lisa and Laura had in mind. I met them at the center and followed them to their house. 

I watched Lisa and Laura undress each other as they kissed and caressed each other's bodies then enjoyed their kissing me as they stripped me of my clothes.

"Let's get his first come out of the way so he'll last longer when he's fucking me with this beautiful cock, Laura!"

"I agree totally!" Laura replied before she dropped down beside Lisa and they both began licking my rigid shaft before Lisa took the head of my cock into her mouth. She began giving me a very good blowjob which let me know that it wasn't a first for her. Laura was licking my scrotal sac and occasionally sucking one of my testicles into her mouth. I shoot my first load of spunk into Lisa' mouth after only five minutes of their combined efforts on my genitals. After my last spurt, I watched as the two beautiful women at my feet shared my semen in a kiss. I began comparing their bodies as I watched them making out in front of me.

Lisa was thirty five and stood 5'6" tall, with long black hair she always left loose except when she was working out at the center, olive skinned, with a beautiful face except for the crooked nose above her pouty lips, and had 32 or 34 A-cupped breasts that I knew never had a bra on them from the male gossip in the men's locker room. She also had the hard body of a workout fanatic. She did have broad hips that didn't fit the rest of her body. Her pussy was bare like most of the women I had hooked up with at the center and was beginning to glisten with moisture from her and Laura's make out session. 

Laura was thirty two and stood 5'9" tall, had blonde hair that she wore in a pixie cut, fair almost albino white skin, her own beautiful face except for a scar across her left cheek, and 36 D-cupped breasts that Lisa was assaulting with her mouth at that very moment. When Laura let out a loud moan, Lisa stood, pulling Laura with her. 

"Let's all go to the bedroom, now!" Lisa exclaimed in a very authoritative voice which confirmed for me which lady was the dominant one in their relationship.

I followed the two women to their bedroom and stood beside it while they continued kissing and caressing each other. When Lisa scooted down to the foot of the bed and stuck her face into Laura's crotch, my semi-hard dick sprang up into full hardness. Lisa's ass was sticking up off the bed while she ate Laura's bald pussy and I could see her own pussy dripping its juices onto the bed. I knelt onto the bed behind her, lined my turgid rod up with her hot opening, and slid it into her waiting snatch. I was buried to the hilt with one easy stroke and began pumping in and out of her inviting sex with long strokes. I began to fuck her hard and fast when she began pushing herself back onto my cock with hard shoves. I heard Laura scream in orgasm and felt Lisa begin to quiver and quake in front of me. I heard her own orgasm as it was muffled by her face being held firmly into her lover's crotch. I stopped so that my own eruption could subside and when both women had begun to settle down from their orgasmic highs, I lifted Lisa out of my way and took her place between Laura's legs. Before she could protest, I eased myself into her as I lay down on top of her so I could reach her mouth. I was kissing her passionately as I drove my penis in and out of her body with gentle, loving strokes. Lisa was caressing us both and began whispering in my ear.

"Laura doesn't usually like for the guy we play with to fuck her. If you get her off really good on your cock, we'll let you play with us anytime you want to."

I was determined to please Laura and used all the techniques that Renee had taught me and I had practiced on her all those years we had been together. I would go slow and gentle, then hard and fast, using long strokes and short ones intermittently until I felt Laura begin to quiver underneath me. I rose up and began to pound her in earnest when I felt that and had her screaming in release after only five minutes.

"Don't come in her, we don't want her pregnant." Lisa whispered to me.

"Not to worry, I got snipped years ago. I'm going to shoot my load into her and then watch you suck it out!"

Lisa stuck her tongue in my ear and that triggered my own release deep into Laura's body. Laura moaned with each pulse of my cock head inside her. After my final spurt, I moved so that Lisa could take my place. She began licking up our combined juices that had leaked out of Laura when I had withdrew. Laura was begging for Lisa to stop as Lisa licked and sucked at her pussy, but Lisa didn't and Laura had another huge orgasm before she passed out from the over stimulation Lisa and I had bestowed upon her body. Lisa and I retired to the living room couch where Lisa used her mouth on my dick until it was hard enough for her to mount. She rode me while we kissed and touched each other. Lisa had two more orgasms before my third and final eruption of the night shot into her depths. We collapsed back onto the couch holding each other while we recovered from our exertions. I spent the night asleep between them and enjoyed both of their bodies again the next day before I left and went to the center for a bike ride and a soak in the hot tub. I thought I couldn't be surprised at anything that came my way after that but I would be proven wrong.

                   To be continued



Why?... 02



It had only been a few minutes since my return home from the volunteer shift at my church's lunch time soup kitchen before I heard the door chime. I went to the door and a Sargent from the sheriff's department was standing on my front stoop.

"Afternoon ma'am, are you Cynthia Rogers and is your husband Bradley Rogers?" Sgt. Jim Thomas asked me before I could say a word in greeting to him.

"Come on Jim, you see me and Brad most Sundays at church. You know who I am."

"Mrs. Rogers, I'm sorry to have to tell you this but your husband has been killed in a single car accident. I need you to come down to the county morgue with me and identify the body."

I went numb with shock and stood frozen with one hand still on the door and the other pressed against my upper thigh. I couldn't say or do anything and don't know how long I would have stood there if Sgt. Thomas hadn't reached out and took the hand not on the door and massaged it gently between us.

"Cindy, I know this is hard to imagine right now, but you need to come with me, okay? I'll be with you the entire time you're away from the house."

Sgt. Thomas grabbed my purse from the table beside the door and led me out of the house making sure the door was locked before leading me to his unmarked car. He placed me in the passenger's seat in the front of the car and buckled the seat belt around me. I still hadn't said a word and was having trouble thinking through the hazy veil that had drifted across my mind. I didn't see the scenery on the drive to the morgue as I stared straight ahead through the wind shield.

Sgt. Thomas had to physically lift me from the car and place me on my feet when we got to the morgue. When they pulled the sheet down from Brad's face, I snapped out of my haze and began to cry. The left side of Brad's head had a large gash above the ear to below the crown of his head. I didn't see any other signs of injury to the small section of his upper body or head that was uncovered.

"Mrs. Rogers is that your husband Bradley Rogers?" Carl Baker, the morgue director and another member from our church, asked me.

"Yes! That's Brad!" I managed to say between sobs. Sgt. Thomas led me to a chair in the corridor outside the viewing room. 

I cried for ten minutes before I could get my emotions under control. 

"Are you ready for me to take you home, Cindy?" Sgt. Thomas inquired of me.

"Yes, Jim. Please take me home. I'll have to call Brad's parents and then Jefferson's Mortuary to arrange for them to pick up Brad's body."

"I'll call the mortuary for you, Cindy." I heard Carl say from behind me.

"Thanks, Carl."

I let Jim lead me back to his car and the questions began forming in my mind as he pulled away.

"Jim, can you tell me what happened?"

"Brad's Porsche left the road and hit a large oak tree broadside on the driver's door. Brad's neck was broken and I'm fairly confident that he died instantly."

"Why did his car leave the road? Was he drunk or distracted by something?"

"I don't know Cindy. No alcohol was found at the scene and the investigating trooper didn't report smelling any on Brad or in the car. Maybe he looked at his passenger and missed the turn. He was driving at a high rate of speed."

"Passenger? What passenger?"

"Renee Banks was his passenger, the RN that works at the hospital that Brad does."

"How is she and what was she doing in Brad's car?" 

"I don't know any answers to those questions, Cindy. Mrs. Banks was alive at the scene, but in serious condition. A trooper was sent to get her husband so they probably don't expect her to live."

We were back at my house by then and I declined Jim's offer to see me to my door. I called Brad's parents' home in Boston and talked to his mother. She gasped once before telling me that Brad's father would call me back shortly and hung up on me. Brad's father called back ten minutes later and asked me what had happened. I told him all that I knew and started to end the call when he asked me what my intentions were for interring Brad's body. I told him I hadn't thought that far ahead and began to cry anew before hanging up on him. I sank down upon the living room couch and cried myself to sleep. 

The phone awakened me two hours later. It was Brad's father informing me that he had made arrangements to have Brad's body shipped to Boston for burial in the family plot of the largest cemetery in Boston. I didn't want Brad to be buried that far from our home in Tennessee but relented when my father threatened to take legal action against me for Brad's estate if I didn't. He also promised me that I would never have to worry about my future if I went along with him. I packed enough clothes for a couple of weeks and flew on Brad's father's private jet with Brad's body back to Boston. With Brad's father having taken care of all the arrangements, all I had to do was show up at the right places at the right times and show the proper amount of grief which wasn't difficult the first few days but became harder as time passed.

With nothing to do but think, I began to run the past through my head. Bradley had been very attentive, loving, and caring during our courtship, but changed after our wedding. He had stopped putting in the effort to please me in bed and I had begun tolerating him using my body for his own pleasure. The huge fight we had when he told me I was a lousy fuck and me telling him that if he didn't care about pleasing me why should I be anything but a lousy fuck led to his first of many affairs. 

I knew he had started another one when he stopped pressuring me for sex three and four times a week, but couldn't think of a reason why he would have one with Renee Banks. From everything I had heard about her, she had a good marriage to a hardworking, loving man. Plus she wasn't the type that Brad typically picked for a mistress. At least ten years older than Brad's 32, 5'7" tall compared to my 6', short brown hair compared to my long, flowing blond mane, fat compared to my slim figure that I maintained with tennis and swimming. Her breasts were considerably larger than my modest 32B's, at least 34 and maybe 36 DD's, but again not Brad's normal pick for a mistress. He normally went for younger women with body types like mine. The hair would usually be the only difference between me and his mistress. For some reason he never picked a blonde as a mistress. When I returned to Tennessee, I planned to found out some answers.

I had stayed in my unhappy marriage to Brad for one reason, financial security. Having grown up with a single mom who had struggled to keep us fed, clothed, and sheltered, I had been determined to find a better life for myself. I had worked hard in school and earned a scholarship to Simmons College, a liberal arts school whose undergraduate program was strictly for women, located in Boston. I met Brad at a benefit auction and instantly fell in love with him. I pursued him and finally got him to become my steady then my fiancée. I had remained a virgin all through high school and told Brad I planned to remain one until our wedding night. Brad taught me how to give a good blowjob, but I always pulled off before he spurted into my mouth. Brad would give me orgasms with his mouth and I thought we were a good fit together. I wouldn't find out until our big fight that Brad was seeing other girls to get the pussy he couldn't get from me. He was slow and gentle on our wedding night, but it still hurt so bad that I didn't enjoy intercourse. After he had broken my cherry, Brad stopped giving me orgasms with his mouth and I stopped giving him blowjobs a few months later. Brad never worked me up before fucking me and the only orgasms I had during our whole marriage were self-given. 

Brad could have a hundred mistresses as long as I got to live in the life of luxury his income and family money could provide. We belonged to the best country club in the county we lived in in Tennessee, I had a new Benz every two years, lived in an exclusive community in a mansion style home, and had all the jewelry and accessories a woman could want. With Brad's family's support we didn't struggle like most of the others in Brad's med school class at The University of Tennessee, the only med school to accept him. I fell in love with the hills and mountains of Tennessee and that was why we were still there. It was the only time Brad backed down when I wanted something the opposite of him.

When I returned to Tennessee two weeks later and with another million from Brad's family for my bank account, I called the one person who would know why Brad had picked Renee Banks for a mistress and he'd tell me or I'd cut off his balls. I called Dr. William Harrison, Brad's best friend, and arranged to meet him for lunch.

"Let's get right to the point Will! Why was Brad having an affair with Renee Banks? We both know she wasn't his type."

"You don't need to know, Cindy. Just let it go."

"You'll tell me or I swear I'll cut your balls off and make you eat them in front of Lanie!" Elaine was Will's wife and she had threatened him with the same thing if she caught him cheating on her like Brad had on me. 

"He overheard her tell another nurse how much she enjoyed sex with her husband and how she gave him blowjobs and even let him fuck her ass. Brad thought she would be a great lay, but she wasn't much better than you according to him. She did do the things you wouldn't is the only reason he was still seeing her."

"I guess Brad left out the part where he stopped doing things for me too, didn't he? Why should I have made an effort for us to have a good sex life when he wouldn't?"

"You're right and I'm sorry, Cindy. What do you plan to do now? Moving back up north to be closer to Brad's family?"

"Hell no! They can stay up there and I'll stay down here. I love it here and as long as Brad's father keeps his promise to me, I'll be alright right where I'm at. Be a gentleman and get the check, okay Will?"

"Sure Cindy. I hope everything works out for you and I'm sure Lanie does too."

I went home and tried to continue with my life, but soon realized that even though we hadn't been happy, being together with Brad was better than being alone. I dated some doctors, a couple of lawyers, and other professionals my friends from the country club set me up with, but they were just like Brad when it came to sex. I could do anything to make it pleasurable for them, but they wouldn't put in any effort into pleasing me. After a year I stopped dating, going to the country club, and basically became a lonely woman in my too big house. It was another year before I realized I was huffing and puffing to get up the stairs that I once ran up without breaking a sweat. I stripped off in front of my full length mirror and looked at myself. I wasn't obese, but the slim, trim, and toned body I once had was gone, replaced with flabby arms, chunky thighs, a big fat ass, a bulgy belly, and tits that were bigger due to the fat in them. I decided to go the next day to the 24-hour fitness center.

I was standing beside Dennis, the manager of the fitness center and a friend from church, when I saw the sexiest, most fit man I had ever seen talking to two beautiful women I knew worked in the administrative offices of the hospital that Brad had been a surgeon in, but didn't know their names. He had a bald head with a grey moustache, muscular neck above a barrel chest equally muscled, a flat stomach, a small cute butt that didn't match the rest of his physique, massive thighs, and muscular calves. I wanted to meet him that very moment, but thought that he'd laugh at me because of the shape my body was in compared to the two hard bodies he was talking and laughing with in joy at that moment. I watched as the two women put their arms around each other and walked past me with the biggest grins that I had ever seen. I watched as he punched in a code to a side door and left the building. I turned to Dennis and asked the one question that I needed answered.

"Who was that hunk that just left the building through that side door, Dennis?"

"That was Martin."

"No! Not the Martin who's before and after pictures are hanging above the receptionist desk?"

"Yep, that was him. I've been trying to get him to let me do another after since he shaved his head and grew his 'tache, but he won't let me. He said I could do another when he reaches the five year mark and our contract is up."

"What contract?"

"The one he signed to be able to use the facilities without paying. He couldn't afford the services he needed at the time he first came here two years ago and signed a contract for the before and after photos and an agreement that he wouldn't quit working out here for five years. He's the best investment I've ever made. The women who join from hearing the female members here talking about his sexual prowess and wanting to experience it for themselves has more than made up for his monthly fees."

"What's his last name, Dennis and why did those two women have those big old grins on their faces?"

"His last name is Banks and I can only guess as to their grins, but I'd say that Martin agreed to hook up with them in the near future for some three way sex."

"His name's Martin Banks, Renee Banks' widower?"

"Yep, that was him. He usually works out in the morning since the settlement from the doctor's, that killed his wife, estate and the prudent investments his lawyer and accountant made let him retire young. He only shows up in the evenings when he's looking for sex. Oh Cindy, I'm so sorry! I didn't think before I opened my big mouth!"

Dennis must have realized who he was talking to and the implications from it. My father had handled the lawsuit and paid out the balance left after the auto insurance company had paid all they were going to pay, but it had still been a painful experience for me. I thought about going to the only other gym in town, but knew it didn't offer half what Dennis' did so I got a full membership with Dennis' center. I would try and come to the center when Martin wasn't there, but came to realize that was going to be difficult after only a day of starting my workouts at the center.

I came in at ten that first day thinking Martin would be gone, but he was still there helping both male and female members as they worked with free weights. He would spot for them and encourage them and he always had this big smile on his face. I saw more than one woman give him a piece of paper in the short time I had before my trainer started pushing me and assumed that there had been phone numbers on them.

Mike, my trainer and who I learned was Martin's first trainer, took it easy on me that first day. He joined me at the juice bar after my workout and we talked. I'm sure Mike was hoping I'd be the next mark on his bedpost, but I wasn't going to let that happen, but I could lead him on long enough to get some information from him. For a professional personal trainer, Mike's body was good, but nothing close to the body Martin had developed, and I wanted to find out if Mike knew any of Martin's secrets.

"You said you were Martin's first trainer earlier, didn't you, Mike? I saw his before picture and it must have been difficult for him in the beginning."

"Yeah, I was hard on him. I tried my best to make him quit but he wouldn't. He'd come in everyday dragging from the previous day's work out and the physical labor he was still doing as an electrician with a determined look on his face and tough it out even though he puked halfway through his workout every day for a week. I knew I wouldn't be able to make him quit when that determined look was replaced by a smile three months later. I can honestly say Martin is the only person I've ever met who actually enjoys working out. Even when he's lifting his personal best with a specific set of weights, he has that smile on his face. I've only seen him not be smiling twice. The first time was when a married woman wouldn't take no for an answer when she came onto him and made him mad and the second was when he had to restrain a distraught husband whose wife had lied to him and gotten him to take her to bed. He and the husband were both crying before the husband calmed down enough for Martin to let him go. He and Martin are good friends now. I heard through the center gossip line that Martin even gave the guy advice and tips on how to please his wife in bed and they're a happily married couple now."

"He must be hung like a horse if he has all those women after him."

"Not from what I've seen in the men's locker room. Mine soft is bigger than his hard."

"Then why do all the women want him?"

"From what I've heard, he really cares about getting the woman off. Supposedly he's good with his mouth and cock. Lisa and Laura swear he's as good at eating pussy as any lesbian they ever been with and since they're the resident lesbian couple here at the center and like to include other women in their lovemaking sessions; they should know. Speaking of eating pussy, how about you and me going back to my place and I'll show you how good I am at it?"

"No thanks Mike, I'm not interested in anything like that right now. See you tomorrow. Say what would be a good time to come so that I don't run into Martin?" 

"After 3 PM, but you'll have to get another trainer if you come that late. I'm out of here every day by 1, 2 at the latest."

I didn't want to wait that late so I continued to go to the center at ten every day for the next six months. I had lost most of the extra weight and flab by then and graduated to doing workouts by myself. I had witnessed the blowups of two women toward Martin and found out that they were married women who he had turned down. He had stood there with that big smile on his face and let them rant and rave at him. I watched as he caught the open handed slap one of the women threw at him then watched as he spun her around and carried her to Dennis' office never losing that smile. The lady left after ten minutes in Dennis' office and I hadn't seen her at the center since.

It was one week after I had begun lifting free weights on my own when the event that would change my life occurred. I had gone to the center early to work out and had finished my warm ups before moving to the bench press. I put on the amount of weight that I thought I could handle and lifted it off the bench supports after lying down under it. I managed to lift and lower it three times and had lowered it for the fourth time when I realized I wasn't going to be able to get it back up on my own. I gasped for help and as fate would have it Martin was the closest person to me and came to my aid. The only way I can explain the sensation that when through my body when our hands touched on that bar is to say it was like static electricity when you touch metal after wearing polyester except that it was all the way down into my soul. The look of surprise that replaced Martin's smile told me he felt it too. After he got the weight back onto the supports he looked at me and told me we had to talk. I followed him to the juice bar and drank the orange juice he gave to me. 

"I know we've not talked before, but I know who you are, Cynthia. I've been avoiding you as much as you've been avoiding me. I didn't know what to say to you because of what happened in the past and because I was afraid you'd not want anything to do with the widower of the woman your late husband was having an affair with; but we both know we felt something when our hands touched on that bar. I called it a spark between two spirits the one and only other time I felt it and I ended up marrying her. I don't know what to do here, Cynthia. I got and called Renee's phone number when I felt that spark before. Hell, we even had sex on our first date. I had to give her an orgasm with my mouth that first time, I shot so quickly. We were living together three months after we met and married a year later. I'm twelve years older than you and not even close to being in your league. I'm an old electrician and you're high society. What do you think we should do?"




Why?... 02



"Martin, I have to admit I felt something too. I thought of it as static electricity except down into my soul. Maybe it was two spirits that sparked together. Martin, do you believe in honesty, integrity, and faithfulness?"

"Yes I do. I was totally faithful to Renee and you can ask anybody in this town about my character. Why did you ask that?"

"Because, I'm going to be honest with you right now. I might be in high society now, but I started off poor and know what hard work is all about. I haven't had to do it since I went to college then got married, but I did have to once. I don't care about the age difference, your background, or anything else. I've never felt that feeling that passed between us now and if you think it was our spirits connecting, I believe you. Martin you asked me what I thought so here it is. I think we need to date and get to know each other better and see where it goes from there."

"Cynthia..."

"Please call me Cindy. Can I call you Marty?"

"No! My brother is the only living person I allow to call me Marty! I'm sorry but that's the way I feel!"

"Okay Martin, don't get so upset! What were you about to say?"

"Cindy, you've been coming here long enough to have heard about my reputation. I have to admit I've enjoyed the sex with all the different women I've been having sex with since I got back into shape. After twenty one years with one woman, it's nice to be able to enjoy different women. I don't know if I'm ready to give that up."

"Then don't. We're not married and I shared Brad with other women almost from the start of our marriage. If we do get serious about each other then we can discuss the situation again. Promise me you'll never stand me up for another woman, okay?"

"I can make that promise and keep it easily. What do you say to us starting to get to know each other better tonight? Will you have dinner with me?"

"Yes Martin, I will. What time do you want to have dinner?"

"I'm used to eating early so how about I pick you up at a quarter to six?"

"That would be fine. Do you need directions to my house?"

"No Cindy, I know where you live and how to get there. I guess you forgot my lawyer and friend lives in the same community that you do." 

"Yes, I guess I did."

"Okay, I'll see you around six. I need to get back to my workout. Be more careful with how much weight you try to lift from now on." With that Martin walked back to the weights he'd been curling before I called for help. I went back to the bench press, removed twenty pounds of weight, and finished my set. I decreased the weight on all my lifts after that for about a week. When I left the center, Martin was still there helping out other members and encouraging others. I saw him stop and talk to a short, very fat woman who was sweating bullets and watched him give her a big hug before moving on. Even that brief interaction with another woman made me so jealous I wanted to go over and slap the shit out of her. I was beginning to have my doubts to whether I could tolerate him seeing other women and realized at that moment that I was in love with him and we'd only had that one touch and talk. I went home and rested for the remainder of the day in anticipation of my date with Martin. I kept thinking how crazy the whole situation seemed, but somehow knew in my heart that we were meant to be together.

Martin's side

The spark I felt when my hands touched Cynthia Rogers' sent a feeling of deja vu through me. My heart was instantly filled with love and want for her. My brain was telling me not to be stupid, I could never have a woman like her and besides that; she was the widow of the bastard who took my beloved Renee away from me twice, once when he seduced her and the second when he killed her in that car wreck. I knew I couldn't ignore that feeling and asked Cynthia to join me at the juice bar so we could talk. We ended up agreeing to date and see where it might lead. After leaving Cindy, I returned to my workout and tried to forget about her and that touch, but couldn't do it. After my workout, I hung around the center spotting for people and encouraging others. I saw Wanda and went over and talked to her before giving her a big hug. I realized that it felt wrong, which hadn't happened since before Renee's death and began to question whether I could continue with the casual sex thing now that I had feelings for Cindy. My heart was saying no I couldn't, but my head was saying yes I could because nothing had happened between me and Cindy yet; except something had happened and we both had felt it. I left the center earlier than normal so I could wash the Z and get ready for my date with Cindy. 

I picked Cindy up at quarter to six and took her to the best seafood restaurant in town. I ate there frequently for the fresh fish they had and the maître' D knew me by name. He started to take me to the little table in the corner that I normally sat at, but I asked for a booth in the center of the main dining room. I wanted to show off the beautiful woman that I was with and the corner table was not the place for that to happen. I didn't know where this turn of events in my life was headed, but I intended to ride it while it lasted. Cindy and I had a very enjoyable evening and it seemed like we had known each other forever instead of a first date. When she reached over and took my hand after the main course had been served and eaten, that same spark we had felt earlier passed between us and through us again. I looked deep into her blue eyes and saw the look of love that I had seen in Renee's on our first date and for the next twenty one years and realized that this beautiful, sophisticated woman loved me and wanted me as much as I loved and wanted her. I threw a hundred dollar bill on the table, stood, whisked Cindy up out of her side of the booth, and kissed her hard right there in the middle of the restaurant. My mind barely registered the hand clapping, catcalls, and wolf whistles that were coming from the other patrons. Cindy and I practically ran to the Z where we made out like teenagers before I headed to my house which was closer than Cindy's. I saw her eyebrow raise when I pulled into the hundred foot drive that led to my double wide and the Z's home. 

We continued to kiss in the garage before the sexual tension between us was too great. I led Cindy into my house and stopped inside the dining room which was the connecting room for the garage and the rest of the house. Before she could protest, I had her dress off and down around her knees. I bent down and stuck my face into her crouch and began licking at her sex through her panties. I could feel her heat and wanted to taste her nectar from the source so I ripped her panties in two and stuck my tongue as far up in her snatch as it would go in that position. I began tongue fucking her while my right hand massaged her left breast and nipple. When I moved my tongue to her clit, Cindy went wild above me. I know she had several mini orgasms before the big one only moments after I started lashing her clit with my tongue. Before her peak had crested I stood, dropped my slacks and briefs, kicked the dining room chair out of my way, picked Cindy up and lay her back onto the dining room table. I rammed my turgid rod to the hilt inside her with one stroke then began a slow pumping in and out of her wet center. She had screamed in pleasure when I had sunk my member into her and was writhing on the table as I stroked in and out of her. I heard and felt her have two more orgasms before I loosed my steamy load into her. I picked her up and carried her to my bedroom where I lay with her on my chest until her breathing and mine had returned to normal.

"Oh my God Martin, that was the best sex I've ever had. I don't think I've ever came three times so close together before. What I heard in the women's locker room about you is true; you are the best lover a woman could ever have. If you can do that to me every time, you can have me any time you want me."

"I can't promise that experience every time, but I can promise that I'll do everything I can to make it as enjoyable for you as it is for me every time. Cindy, I know this is crazy, but I love you, am in love with you, and want to love you from this moment on. Will you be my woman from now until death separates us?"

"Martin, I agree that this is crazy, but I love you too and will gladly be your woman from now until one of us dies. When I saw you hug that fat woman at the center earlier today I got so jealous, I wanted to slap her into next week. Martin, I don't think I can handle you seeing other women. I thought I was in love with Brad, but realize now that I wasn't. I now know what true love feels like and I can't stand the thought of you fucking another woman."

"Her name is Wanda and I felt like I was doing something wrong when I hugged her this afternoon. I realized that I was in love with you and hugging her was like I was cheating on you. You don't have to worry about me and other women from today forward. I'll be as faithful to you as I was to Renee."

"Martin, I promise to be faithful to you too! Now can you make love to me slow and gentle this time."

What the lady asks for, the lady's going to get when she asks it of me so I proceeded to kiss and caress Cindy's body until she was ready for my rejuvenated cock inside her hot, wet pussy. I made slow and gentle love to her for the next hour. When I felt close to coming myself, I'd stop and let the sensation ease, before starting again. I don't know how many orgasms Cindy had on my cock, but it was too many to count on one hand. I couldn't hold back my own orgasm forever and began pounding her pussy fast and hard, giving her the biggest orgasm of the night when my second load of hot semen shot into her depths. After we had recovered, we lay and cuddled in each other's arms until we both went to sleep.

Cindy and I became a couple after that night. We worked out together, shopped for food and clothing together, went out to eat, to movies, concerts, and other romantic social events. The women at the gym stopped coming on to me after Cindy had torn two of them new ones when they approached me when Cindy was near. I didn't actually move in with her, but it was almost like I had. I spent more nights with her in her bed than I did alone in mine. I didn't realize how much I had missed sleeping next to the same person and waking up with them night after night until Cindy and I had started sleeping together. The only problem we had was Cindy turned me down every time I asked her to marry me. I got frustrated enough to finally asked her why.

"Cindy, why have you turned me down when I asked you to marry me?"

"If I re-marry, I lose the money from Brad's family that keeps me in the life style I'm accustomed to. I love you, Martin, but I can't go back to living in a double wide trailer."

"I can sell the double wide and go back to work. I can provide for you, Cindy. We might have to sell this mansion and get a rancher on the other side of town, but we'd be together and in love. Wouldn't that be enough?"

"No Martin, it wouldn't. You've known what it's like to struggle and are used to it. I'm not anymore. I won't go backwards not even for love. Sell the double wide and move in with me, Brad's family won't cut me off just for living with a man. You can become my "kept" man."

"I can't do that, Cindy. My good name around town means a lot to me and I'll not tarnish it now. I love you and want to be with you always and all the time, but unless we get married, I can't live here with you. I can live with our current situation as long as you can."

Cindy and I retired to bed after that conversation and had another bout of incredible sex. As long as I took the time to heat her up, Cindy would do anything I asked of her in bed. Anal, oral, oral after my cock had given her an orgasm and our combined juices were still on it, any position, room in the house, and even outside on moonless nights, if I got her off once first, she did it all. I had thought to myself many times how stupid and selfish her bastard of a husband had been. He wouldn't have had to seek out other women for good sex if he'd only put in the effort required to please the woman he had.

I went to see Mac the next Monday and told him why Cindy wouldn't marry me. He began to laugh hysterically after I said that. I asked him what was so funny about the woman I loved turning me down because of money or the lack thereof on my part.

"You really don't know do you, Martin?" 

"Don't know what, Mac?"

"How much you're actually worth now."

"I suppose it's a little bit more than the million I gave you and Jason to invest for me so maybe a couple of million by now."

Mac again began laughing at me. When he finally got control of himself, he got a real serious look on his face before he told me something that almost knocked me out of my seat.

"Try five times that, my doofus of a friend. You really don't look at your account statements and the other paperwork I send you, do you?" 

"No, I don't. I trust you and Jason and if you say it's a good deal and you tell me you're putting your own money into it, I sign the papers. I figure you're not going to risk your own money and won't risk mine either. Don't you remember that one deal you didn't want to put any money into? I didn't put any into it either and tore the papers up right here in front of you, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember and have regretted it to this day. If we had gotten in on that deal, you'd probably be worth ten times the measly two mill you think you're worth. Martin, you have ten million dollars in several checking, savings, and other quickly accessible accounts. On paper you've another five mill, but those investments aren't easily and quickly liquidated. Hell buddy, you and I are both rich. You're my only client now, Martin. I only come to the office on Mondays and stay for an hour. You're so predictable that that's the only time I need to be here. If I didn't own the building out right and have tenants that pay more than enough to cover my overhead here, we'd be meeting at my place whenever you wanted to talk. Now get out of here, go workout that freakish body of yours so you can continue to keep up with that gorgeous babe that you don't deserve, and tell her you all are getting married, and she can tell Bradley' stuffy old family where they can shove their money."

Mac had always given me good advice so I followed his instructions to the letter. Cindy was already at the center and my smile must have been bigger than normal because she asked me why I was so happy all of a sudden. I told her that it would have to wait until after my workout. After my workout, I went through the center telling everyone to look out for each other because I was leaving early. I saw a few raised eyebrows when most of the regulars heard that. I had never left the center this early after I began coming in the mornings after my early retirement. I drove my pick up to Cindy's to ask her to marry me again and I wasn't taking no for an answer this time.

"Where you at woman, we need to talk!" I bellowed in mock rage.

"Martin what's wrong with you; did Mac give you some bad news after I left the center?"

"Yeah, he gave me some bad news and it's going to affected how things are going to be around here from now on!"

"You're broke! You let that no a count shyster and his butt buddy accountant blow all your money! I told you not to be so trusting of them. It'll be alright though, we can sell your double wide and the "Z" as you call it and you can live with me."

"I'd sell you to white slavers before I'd sell my Z, woman! No, I'm not broke; quite the opposite in fact! I'm stinking rich and we're getting married and that's that! That's the big change that's going to happen around here! Now go call Brad's father and tell him where he can shove his freaking money! I love you and can keep you in your lifestyle without Brad's family money! I'm warning you right now though; I'll not have you spending my money like its water. I didn't get rich by spending it hand over fist and you're not going to be doing that either. Do you understand me?" 

"Yes, oh Martin this is the second happiest day in my life!"

"Oh yeah, then what was the first?"

"The day you touched my hands and our spirits sparked together for the first time! Martin let's not wait! Let's get married tomorrow at the court house!"

And that's what we did much to the chagrin of my best friend and lawyer, Mac. He wanted us to wait and let him draw up a pre-nup, but I didn't want to do that. I trusted Cindy completely and knew she'd never do to me what Renee had done, because she knew how Renee had hurt me and with her husband no less. Cindy did call Brad's father and told him she was getting married and he could keep his money. I could hear him yelling at her on the phone even from the three or four feet of distance that separated me from her. I took the phone and calmly told him to stop yelling and that he shouldn't have upset my bride to be like that before I hung up the phone on him. The next Monday I was in Mac's office and asked him about what we could do to, if not bankrupt, at least hurt Brad's family's financial wellbeing. It took him three weeks of researching, but he found some outstanding loans that Brad's father had out. The clause that helped us out was the one that stated that the loanee had to repay in full the loan any time the loaner called for it to be paid. Mac bought up the loans and after they had been verified, demanded full payment. Of course Brad's father couldn't pay them, so Mac foreclosed on the properties that were used for collateral. When they sold at auction, Mac had tripled our initial investment and taken a big bite out of Brad's family's wealth. I couldn't resist calling and rubbing salt in the wound. 

"Mr. Rogers, we've only talked once on the phone, but I'm the man who told you that you shouldn't have upset Cynthia when she called and told you she didn't need your money anymore before she married me. I wanted to let you know that your recent financial set back is the consequences I exacted on you for doing that. Oh by the way, have a nice day." I hung up on him when he started yelling at me. 

Oh by the way, there are two living people who are allowed to call me Marty now and I expect to grow old with the second one beside me everyday until my or her death.

The End



Why



Why?

MikelG

Thanks to all the great writers on this site which inspire me DG, Ohio, Just Plain Bob and others, I hope you enjoy my story! There are sexual passages, so be advised in advance!

*

Friday-

Living in wealthy Orange County, some things we just take for granted, like the sun will rise in the morning and set at night, there will be oxygen to breathe, water to drink and food to eat... but my oxygen was lacking at this very moment and my world was now turning black and white like a 40's film noire. I couldn't eat or drink because I was on mental shut down. How could this happen to me? I knew the answer before I asked the question. 

Simple, I was not paying attention to the signs that I now unfortunately must confront! 

If you are truly in love, why look for those signs? Where there is love there must be trust and honor. It's a given..... but then this crazy thing called life gets in the way. You see people, we do not live our lives in a vacuum, and we interact with others and therein lay the conflict.

Powerful men want what they do not have. 

More money... of course, an estate style house...got to happen, an exotic foreign car.... a must, another man's beautiful wife...... why not?!

So now you can see it coming, I am living in this fantasy world of love with my beautiful wife of ten years and totally ignoring the wolves. Oh I am aware of the attraction she gets, but it's just a validation of my conquest, she is my woman.

I am Michael, my wife is Anne, and we are both are both thirty something, in shape and every ones dream couple. I am a successful business owner, the company is making millions and we are comfortable in our means. 

I am 6'1 and weight 200lbs, as some men have called me a man's man. I say this not to brag but as a matter of fact so you get the right picture, I am no slouch.

My wife on the other hand is the perfect woman to fuck for me, petite at 5'4, 110 lbs, small perky breasts with eraser size nipples, her tight ass and slim legs are perfection. Her facial features and stylish brunette hair radiates a room whenever she enters. We are no Ken and Barbie though, I am a black man and she is a white woman.

For those of you that have to know yes, god blessed me with an over endowed penis. It's the one thing that helped me get my wife, because when we first met, I worked at an aerospace desk job that paid a nice middle class wage, but that was going to change in the future.

The beginning: Long Island, NY twelve years earlier.

It was really happening in the club that night, good herb, good drinks and lots of women, yeah we were regulars on Friday nights, but we got laid more than most so we rode this puppy.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed this woman eyeing balling me , so I looked back and saw the finest piece of ass I had seen in a longtime, I had been waiting to meet a babe like this and I boldly made my way over to get her attention.

Well it was Anne of course, she was with three other women, but after exchanging" hellos" we never saw or talked with anyone else. We danced a lot hitting it off right away, she told me she worked for a Japanese camera company and was single and available. "Do you think you can handle this or am I going to have to beg you to fuck me tonight?"

Game was on, a hot bitch with a scratch to itch. "Ok Anne if that's what you want let's go", I responded to her challenge.

We fucked and sucked like champions that night and again in the morning before she went home. My roommate Tommy said, "That was a wild one, I could not sleep having to listen to you two making all those noises. Damn!"

I just laughed and said yeah I know it was primal, she's literally the first bitch since Mickie left that could stay with me." I boasted.

"Mike, it sounded like she was fucking you bro. as much as you were fucking her" Tommy said, "are you seeing her again?"

"Yeah here tonight" and yes he was right, Anne was a slut in bed, nothing was held back and everything was gladly received in every hole.... This was your classic dream pick up.

"I will buy some ear plugs today" he laughed and left for work.

When she arrived that evening she was wearing a white trench coat and black high heels with thigh high black stockings, as she entered the doorway she whispered in my ear, could we go to my room right away, she had something to show me!

After entering my bedroom, she opens her coat and lets it fall to the floor. You guessed it, she was buck naked underneath, and she had shaven her pubic hair and was completely bald. She looked like a nude model with her stockings and high highs still on.

"Now eat me good Mike, my pubic hair got in the way of your fantastic tonguing last night, when you finish I will give you the penis worship blow job of your life". 

Then she continued. "You are the best fuck so far I ever had" I smiled in pride. "But I have had bigger black dicks than yours" turning my smile into a smirk, "but you fuck me like I want to be fucked."

I guess she likes me, but the superior attitude has to go, let me do something about that.

I ate her delicious pussy like a porn star. Orgasm after orgasm like one continuous wave of pleasure until she screamed and begged for me to stop, but I did not until I shoved most of my 8 inches into her wet cunt.

As I penetrated her tight hole, I said "I might not be the biggest but I will make you pay for your arrogance" she grunted and I pushed harder until our pubic bones were mashing each each other, as I was trying to maximize my penetration. Then I felt it, her pussy was like a hand gripping my dick as she came once more and this one was the best of the evening so far, it took all my concentration not to come in that tight pulsating pussy. 

I tuned her over and pulled her up onto her knees and fucked that tight pussy doggie style. After almost an hour of hard pounding and fucking she was a puddle of a woman, I said," give me that blowjob before I come into your cunt." I felt like I was back in charge.

That was my mistake, she got her senses back and she did a number on me, the tables were turned and she enjoyed the control over my cock, licking it sucking it jerking it, every trick in the book to worship my dick, finally after an hour my load hit the back of her throat and then it was her turn to bring me to a mind blowing orgasm, she would not let me push her away either. IT WAS MIND BLOWING SHIT!

Wow, we both said almost simultaneously, let's call it a draw.

We were inseparable after that, we moved in together and were married two years later. Our first child John came one year later and then we moved to Orange County, California after I received a promotion in my job.

After five years, I started my own company, and within two years, it was highly profitable, Anne was the devoted housewife and caregiver of our child, while I made the bacon.

With success came the wealth, a 5500 sq foot Tuscany home with pool overlooking Dana Point harbor, club memberships, designer clothes foreign cars etc. 

I worked long days; 6am to 7pm with occasional late dinner outings with customers, but no weekends.

We had a small circle of friends and some close business associates and our family visited regularly from the east coast, but we generally spent most of our time with our son and fucking our brains out at night.

For some reason we never hit that wall, most couples do, our sex remained hot and sizzling, we added some toys for her, but that was about it.

Three days ago

Well, as you can see, we had money, a child, great sex and now this? I know she has a high libido, but she never showed any inclination to have an affair. No girls nights out, no late appointments, or any of the thinks you see in loving wives stories except one unexpected discovery.

We wanted another child, so why did she have a pack of XXXL condoms in her pocket book! No I was not looking to spy, I needed her driver's license number for our insurance man for a fender binder she was in. I discovered the condoms by mistake, curious, but again maybe she wants me to start wearing condoms for some reason. Again the trusting husband, I will ask her later what's up. 

"Say Anne, I sorry but I went into your pocketbook without asking today, I was looking for your license number and I found some condoms, actually some XXXL size condoms, and you know I take XXL ( trying to make a joke out of it) so what's up babe? Did you change your mind about having another child and why did you not talk to me about it?"

I looked at her face and she quickly responded with no hesitation," they are for my new lover's cock why do you ask."

I just looked at her stunned and angry, and then she said realizing I was not getting her joke, "yes all of my rubber dildos have to wear condoms, I was getting little vaginal infections playing with them, and so my doctor told me to put a condom on them for protection. You want me protected and the XXXL size are thicker and makes sure they do not break or split when I really want to ride my lover, are you jealous?

I am sorry for the invasion of your privacy. It will not happen again, I deserved that, Anne.

"Well, should I start looking through your wallet and private things, but honey I understand your concern, no harm no foul."

Too bad that was not the end of it.

That night, she was in her private sewing room, the door was shut, but I could hear her talking on the phone, I was about to knock on the door to enter when I heard her say "I bought those special condoms you mentioned so you do not have to worry about breakage because of your size baby. My husband accidently found them and I had to think quickly, but he bought my story about using them on my dildos to avoid infections."

I did not get to where I am by not being fast on the uptake. I knew what this is, I felt like a fool, because I was always street smart as well as book educated, but I let my ego believe I was the only hound in the chase.

She was cheating with some big dick man, and I was going to find out who, when and how long and then make a decision on the future of our marriage, from that moment on, my life was no longer in living color it was black and white.

Two days ago

After over hearing the rest of the conversation, I learned they are meeting at the Ritz Carlton pool area on Friday and he has rented a room overlooking the ocean for the day. She has it all planned, I am at work till 11:00pm because of a dinner commitment and our son John is going to stay with a friend this weekend and is leaving school with his parents, so she does not have to pick him up till Sunday. She has all day Friday to "fuck his brains out."

I made quick arrangements at work with my Executive Assistant Claire, to reschedule Friday's commitments on my calendar and had Claire book me a room for Friday at the Ritz overlooking the pool and the ocean.

It then dawned on me, what will I do other than say aha, the cuckold husband who caught his bitch fucking another man, my reaction has to be more than that. I had to devise something, for that matter anything that will turn the hurt around on them!

The more I thought about it, the more depressed I got, because I had the answer, but I did not like it myself, I know it would hurt her, but that was the goal was it not?

The next two days were hell, as I said, I did not eat, sleep or function normally, I told her I had a bug or something, but I could still function, she better stay away or she could catch it. She was more than willing to stay away, not wanting to spoil her Friday fuck plans, so we did not have sex on those days.

I made my preparations for my response, I had to call in some favors to do so, but it was accomplished. Now let the games begin. I knew the marriage was possibly over, she blatantly set this up and I do not care if it was her first affair or not, it's all over but the fat lady singing.

Back to the present

I left for work late, around 10:00 AM, I was still pretending to be ill, and I almost was going to stay home, but why prolong the inevitable. They would just reschedule, let us get this over with.

My delay at leaving at my normal schedule was obviously driving Ann crazy, she wanted to prepare her makeup and hair to leave and get to the pool to meet her lover.

I drove to the Ritz and checked into my hotel room well before she could arrive, it was a corner suite two stories up so I can see the pool and the ocean beach. Then I waited for Ann to arrive at the pool to meet her lover.

Sure enough, my heart sank and my pulse quicken when I finally saw her sitting down on a chaise lounge facing my room, she pulled out all stops, her white bikini was almost non-existent, and she had on heeled sandals and her signature oversized sun glasses. She carried a large beach bag that had her sundress neatly folded inside along with her sunscreen and oversized hat. My binoculars were extremely high powered I could see the small mole on her calf from my advantage point if I wanted to and the sound device I rented worked for picking up their conversations.

Less than five minutes after she arrives she made a call on the cell phone and in short order a man of about thirty comes and sits down next to her. He gives her a passionate kiss on her lips; she smiled and seemed to be enjoying it... 

He was a white man, how ironic. Usually it's the white guy getting cuckold by the black guy, today it was going to be the opposite. They got comfortable; he rubbed the sun screen onto her exposed areas and then some on the not so expose areas, mostly her butt.

It was time for me to start my plan. I made my call on the cell phone and shortly thereafter, the most beautiful woman on the planet earth, walked by the unexpected couple and takes a chair right next to Ann's lover.

She was wearing all black, her tits are like cantaloupes a firm 38D size all natural, and they were bursting out of her undersized top. Her stomach was flat and her thong bikini showed her camel toe, wedged into her pussy. Her ass, my god her ass, was firm and round like a sisters, yet she was white with blonde hair. Unlike Ann she had some length; she was around 5'7-5'8 in height so her legs matched the proportions of her heavy breast...

Ann did not like the way her lover was looking at my decoy, but he said something to her anyway just to acknowledge her presence. 

The woman got up and dove into the pool and then pulled herself up from latter, while the water clanged to her body forming little beads and clinging her wet tiny bathing suit to her voluptuous body, it was a scene even I had to admire in my state of mind, this woman was worth the $2000 I paid, let's see if she can do what I paid her to do.

Now my wife is attractive, some say beautiful, but this woman was unworldly and lover boy was getting interested from where I was looking. 

She asked my wife if they were married and Rob quickly said no, we are just friends here for a some relaxation and lunch.

Anne really looked frustrated now!

" The reason I ask, oh by the way, I been rude my name is Joan and you are?

"I am Ann, this is Rob" 

"As I was saying, I am looking for some action and if Rob is not committed for a couple of hours and his cock can measure up, I would like to fuck him in my room while you are relaxing and sun bathing Ann. How does that sound Rob?" 

She continued to tease the man. " Come on Rob wouldn't you like to fuck my big tits and tight pussy with your fat dick, how big are you Rob as she rubbed his crotch through his bathing suit. "Feels like you got almost ten inches for me, because if it's smaller than that Rob, you can fuck the small titted bitch if you like", as she whispered loud enough into his ears so Ann could hear.

Now as I said before, powerful men want what they do not have, he obviously has Ann and now he wants Joan. Without thinking twice he tells Ann he is going to Joan's room and he will be back when he gets back. There is no honor amongst thieves or cheaters. 

"Sorry Ann, but this is an offer of a lifetime and it was nice knowing you". Good luck with your marriage and adios."

Anne was just flabbergasted, as she watched them walk away arm and arm to her hotel room.

"Fuck you Rob, you goddamned bastard" Ann screamed!

A smug Rob, responded "No Ann you got that wrong, I just fucked you over, now I am going to fuck this beautiful woman for all she is worth..... you lose, I win "

My humiliated wife packed up her stuff and headed to the valet. Heads were turning all the way watching her tight ass tick tock as she walked away.

Now to attend to my revenge on Rob.

Joan came into my suite with Rob grabbing her ass and tits as he entered, real classly guy, what did Ann see in him other than a big dick I do not know.

But I know this, when he saw me, he asked Joan" what in hell is this nigger doing here and who the hell is he to you ".

"Oh Rob, I forgot to tell you he is the guy that's going to beat the shit out of you for fucking with his wife Ann and I am the woman that brought you to him so he can do it. He knew all along all you wanted was some good pussy and I guess you figured Ann is all that.'

" I am the paid decoy to get you away from his wife and in the process I humiliated her for ever wanting to be with a scum sucking dog like you!"

God she is good, I thought to myself.

"So, my job is done here, good luck trying to get it up after he is done with you." 

As she left the room he tried to bolt but I hired two men to stand outside in the hall way to restrained him from doing so.

" Have a seat Rob, we need to talk, you can do it the hard way or the easy way it's up to you."

"What do you want from me?" he said.

"Just the truth and I will minimize your punishment, if you lie; you will be a big limp dick fuck for the rest of your life. Got It.?

Robs story

I got the information I needed about his affair with my wife, he works for the Republican Party, he visited our estate home during the day, to go over the election for a new congressial seat and he was the leading candidate. So he was canvassing estate communities for votes and more importantly donations.

Ann was sunning at the pool and was topless, she said it was alright for him to come in, she is not shy and he had a drink with her, one thing lead to another and he made a move, she slapped him hard initially, but then he challenged her by saying. 

"So you want to turn this down"

"I want you to see this" and out comes the biggest cock she ever could imagine. Larger than her biggest dildo by a couple of inches and much wider.

"You can touch it Ann, it won't hurt you not yet it wouldn't." he grinned.

She moved forward and grabbed his manhood and it took two both of her tiny hands to handle it properly.

"My god, forgive me, but I need to have this cock" no other thought permeated her mind as she strokes it.

"I will agree to fuck you Rob only if you use a condom, I have none and I am off the birth control bills I am trying to get pregnant, but obviously not by you." She said.

"None are big enough he boasted for this monster, they rip or tear and they are no fucking good, take the morning after pill, it works." 

He saw her reluctance and rather than lose her he suggested the following. 

"Or you can blow me today and I promise you no penetration, I will just slide my cock over your vulva until you come and then next week on Friday, I have a day off, we can meet at the Ritz Carlton and bring as many condoms as like for the deep penetration fuck you want and need."

She bought into that. 

For the rest of the afternoon she sucked and licked that massive cock for him and he rubbed his cock over her wet pussy to orgasm but no penetration as promised. She was out of her mind in anticipation of next week's fucking. When he finally came she never saw so much come all over her body!




Why



He left her his cell number and asked her to call on Wednesday of next week to confirm.

Mike now understood. "I never got the chance to fuck her cunt because I was greedy and wanted Joan, so cut me some slack."

"What are you going to do with me" he begged.

"Well Rob this is your lucky day, you can leave now". I said.

"What, no punishment, why are you letting me go so easily? Are you going to kill me?'

"No Rob, you are free to go, you are not worth going to jail for, your congressional bid is ruined, this is all on tape and I am sending it the RNC, you will never get financial backing for your congressional bid, and your wife in the next couple of days is going to see and listening to your confession via web cam video being sent to her computer, good luck with that, and last but not least, you leaving the OC or you are a dead man." 

Maybe it falls short for some men who want revenge, but since there was no intercourse this will do." I paid a lot of money for a voice stress analyzer and you did not lie."

"Now go before I change my mind, and Rob, do I need to say it?

"I will leave Ann alone."

The then he left. And Joan came back in the room!

Suddenly, I started to get more oxygen in my lungs, I felt hungry as shit, and I could see colors again. 

Now what to do about Ann?

Epilogue-

I went home after staying in the room a couple of hours, Ann was outside on the patio staring out into space, in a world of her own, unaware of my backdoor activities surrounding her rendezvous with Rob and my revenge sex with Joan. I wore condoms by the way.

"I thought you would be home late tonight, but I'm glad you are here, sit down Mike, I need to tell you something". Anne said. 

Was she going to confess and make it easier on me? I wondered.

"I had casual sex last week with a man, right here on the outside, patio, it was not intercourse but I blew him and he ate me and rode my pussy raw with his dick, but I swear he did not penetrate me. I swear Mike" she continued.

"I was supposed to fuck him today, but things got complicated and it never happened and I am so embarrassed it happened in the first place." I lied about the condoms, and will you ever forgive me for being so stupid? "

I sat there quietly studying her face," what happened that cause you not to go ahead with the sex, did you back out at the last minute, please explain that to me?" 

The moment of truth, if she lied it was over.

"He rejected me like a worthless rag doll for another big titted woman that was staying at the hotel." It woke me up, that's what I was doing to you, rejecting you for a bigger cock, and I was as bad as he was, even worse, you are my best friend and husband along with being the best lover I ever had, you fill my pussy all I ever needed, I got greedy and wanted to experience more." 

She broke down and cried like a baby.

At this moment, as mad as I was about her affair, I realized I truly still loved this woman and her heart was in the right place, there was no need to punish the mother of my child anymore than I have, she already was doing that to herself, more than I ever could. But I had one more question.

Ann, what if that woman never showed up at the hotel? Would you have fucked him?

"Yes Mike, I would have. I am sorry for that, but I cannot lie to you, thank god for that big titted beautiful woman. She saved me from making a big mistake. At first, I was mad as hell he rejected me, but when I got home I realized what a fool I had been, it will never happen again. I promise."

Now some reading this story will say I am a fool to have kepted her as my wife, but one year later we had our second son and we named him Jaime. Ann devotes all of her waking hours to our two boys and giving me the most incredible make up sex, if it's possible our sex life is even better than before her affair with Rob.

I never told Ann I set her up to fail by hiring Joan or the fantastic sex I shared with Joan that day for revenge. I needed to get my manhood back and Joan was the perfect woman to do so.

I am not sorry I fucked Joan, it made it easier on my bruised ego to go back to my wife on an equal standing. Some might say I even got more out of her affair than she did, tough break!

Sometimes there are happy endings to bad situations, I love Ann, and she made a mistake and I fixed it.

mikelG, this is my first story, I like to receive your constructive comments.



Why



Note to Readers: 

It's been a long time since I wrote anything to post on literotica. If you like this story and want to see it continue, let me know. Thanks.

++++

Why we do the things we do can only be explained by the people who live the experience. We are the ones qualified to speak out. Those without such experiences and speak out are merely expressing opinions and you know the saying about opinions and assholes. Everybody has one.

My wife Suzanne and I have been married for 15 years. For the past year we have been actively engaged in a relationship with another person. He is younger than us and he dominates us as a couple as well as individually. We met him through alt.com, and got comfortable with him via exchanges of emails, instant messages and then a phone call that sealed our decision to meet him. 

Minutes before the call we opened an email from him. In it he provided a web-ex online meeting link, ID and password. He asked that we strip off all our clothes first, then log in to the meeting and wait on our knees for the presentation to start before we called him. I turned to Suzanne. 

"What do you think?"

She stood upright and said "You log in to the meeting and I'll start undressing." I watched as she reached for her blouse and unbutton it. As her black bra and rounded right breast came into view I felt my own arousal surge. When her blouse was completely unbuttoned she pulled both sides over her shoulders and let it fall down her arms and onward until it fell to the floor behind her. Suzanne has a beautifully sculpted body and I stared at her in wonder. When we made eye contact she smiled and then she spoke. 

"Bob, hurry up and log in."

Then I remembered my task and so I turned toward the computer and clicked the link. Thank goodness for broadband internet connectivity as no sooner did I click the link than a log-in prompt appeared. I checked the ID and password provided in the email and then laughed. 

"What's so funny?" asked Suzanne.

"He's got a sense of humor." I said and turned to see her standing in her panties. She looked damned hot to me and the erection I had in my hands felt as though it might be similar to the erections I saw in her nipples. 

"How's that?" She asked with playfulness in her voice.

"Our ID is Wilson couple and the password is slut wife."

"I can't believe we're doing this. She said as she pushed her panties down her legs and then stepped out of them. Again I watched my wife's movement as removed her panties and then flung them over her shoulder onto the pile of clothes behind her. 

"Me either." I said. "You look gorgeous Suzanne." I added.

"Bob hurry. I want to see what he wants to show us." She knelt down next to my chair and looked at me with a hint of exasperation.

I turned and input the ID and password then clicked the submit button and chuckled to myself. The submit button offered a deeper meaning now than had been originally intended I was sure.

The screen filled with a presentation layer and a countdown timer that indicated 10 seconds remained. Quickly, I stood and kicked my chair forcefully to make room for a quick strip and my eventual kneeling position beside my wife. Fortunately there was no web cam on and therefore no way for our dominant to truly know I was not kneeling when the timer hit zero and the presentation screen began. Yet in my mind, I was late and I felt panicky.

My tee shirt was on the floor next to my shoes and my jeans were at my knees when the screen filled with a live video of the young dominant who was courting us. He was topless and appeared to be seated as his eyes bore onto our screen. I felt his intensity reach directly into my core and the feeling was daunting.

He held up a piece of cardboard. On it was an instruction that read: Dial this number now to begin our phone call. A toll free number was neatly handwritten below the instruction.

"You dial Suzanne" while I finish stripping.

"Okay." She said. "I'm on it." She grabbed our iphone and input the numbers as I shucked my jeans, shorts and socks and then discarded them onto the floor space behind us.

As she held the iphone to her ear I dropped to my knees and turned to her. "Suzanne, turn on the speaker so I can hear too."

She turned her face to mine and showed me the daggers in her eyes. "Shush Bob. It's asking for a call ID and password."

I looked at the screen and saw the young dominant's hands as he held out a new card that provided the handwritten information needed to start the call. "It's on the screen. I'll read it to you." I said.

She lowered the phone and held it out to me. "You do it." Her tone cut into me more than the words did. Clearly she was displeased.

"Why don't we do it together? I'll input a number then you input one. It'll be us working together. What do you say?"

She laughed and said "No. You do it and then hand the phone back to me." She spoke sternly.

I entered the ID and password numbers and forgot about the speakerphone until after I handed the phone back to her. She looked at me and smiled as she held the phone to her ear. The eye contact made me feel included and so I waited patiently as she listened for his pickup.

She smiled broadly the moment he must have said "Hello."

"Hi!" she said into the phone and turned her gaze toward the screen. I watched her as she reacted to him. 

"Oh my god, you are huge!" she exclaimed and then pointed with her free hand at the screen.

I turned to look and then gulped. On it, I saw him hold his flaccid cock and large balls like a package with both hands. Even soft his equipment appeared impressive, notable more so than mine. I looked at Suzanne again as she spoke into the iphone. "I'd love to see it hard."

"What's he saying?" I ask impatiently. 

"Oh my God, yes. I want to see that." Suzanne's voice captivated me as much as he captivated her.

"What's happening?"

She snapped her fingers. "Look."

"Oh my God this is so hot. I can't believe this." She said.

I looked at the screen again. The shot had changed and the young dominant was now accompanied by a naked couple kneeling side by side. They resembled us in age and fitness and just like that the man crawled to the young dominant and then stopped when his hands reached the young man's feet. 

My cock jutted before me and I moved my hand down to grasp hold of it and start jacking as I watched in anticipation of what was to come. 

"Oh God Yes!" Exclaimed Suzanne as the older man parted his lips and accepted the young dominant's cock. 

I looked at Suzanne and watched her mouth open while her free hand busily rubbed her pussy. "Oh God Yes. Make him suck that cock."

The master placed his hand on the guy's head and pulled as he thrust forward. The result saw the man's jaw drop as the young dominant forced his cock in and downward. 

"Oh God I'm coming!" I shouted. Ropes of cum shot straight out of my cock and landed on the carpet before us.

"My husband just shot his load on our floor." Suzanne shared.

I looked at her attentively as the last droplets dripped out of my softening cock. Her free arm continued to move up and down as she frigged her pussy and listened to his voice. Then she turned to me and spoke.

"He wants to know if you're willing to lick it up and swallow it in front of me."

I looked at Suzanne. Lust glazed her eye balls. She was ready to fuck and I was unable to help her. For the first time in our marriage I knew that I needed another man to satisfy her and so without further delay I nodded my head and dove face first to lick my cum off the carpet. It was fuzzy but it was mine and after I got as much of it into my mouth, I looked up at Suzanne and then swallowed.

Suzanne's reaction was nothing less than spectacular. The moment I headed down to the floor, she picked up the pace and frantically frigged her swollen clit. In seconds she began a mind blowing orgasm that produced guttural screams and a volley of obscenities that informed him of my consent and the fact that I just obeyed like the male slave we watched on the screen. In the heat of it all she then admitted her deepest need to him.

"I want your cock inside me." She began. "I want it naked and hard and reaching depths and widths my husband has never given me."

A pause ensued as Suzanne both listened and continued to rub her pussy. 

"Yes sir." Said Suzanne. "I want to see you fuck the wife now."

I looked up at the screen and swallowed another mouthful of my cold jizz. The salty acidic taste simply added to my lust as I watched the young dominant withdraw a massive wet hard cock from the husband's mouth. Once his cock was free and clear, the young dominant kicked the husband aside and then snapped his fingers.

In seconds the wife came into view as she crawled backward toward him. She stopped at his feet and raised her ass in the air while lowering her face to the floor. From there she reached back and pried her ass cheeks open. As I watched her obedience I couldn't help but wonder how quickly Suzanne and I would be doing this very act on video as this young dominant used us to seduce another couple. 

"He wants you to lie down beneath me." Said Suzanne.

"Not now. I want to watch him fuck her."

"He wants to watch you fuck her."

The dominant turned and stared at me. His eyes burned straight to the core of my being. His power overwhelmed me. Immediately I looked away from the screen and over at Suzanne. In that moment I wanted her support more than anything else. Her eyes glanced downward and then back up at me. As she shook her head side-to-side, I looked down and saw my deflated cock and realized my defeat.

I lowered my body to the floor and rolled underneath my wife until her crotch rest just above my mouth. 

"He obeyed you. He's lying beneath me just as you wanted." 

There was another pause. "Yes Master." She said as she dropped her full weight onto my face. She may have continued speaking to him but her thighs covered my ears as she began to grind her exceptionally wet pussy against my mouth. As soon as I could must the opportunity, I stuck my tongue into her hole and flicked it inside her as best I could. She moaned and then I felt her free hand grasp my head for balance as she continued to ride my face.

I don't know how long we were in this position. It didn't seem terribly long but she didn't let up immediately either. Each time she moved back and forth, I felt her coat my face with her juices. She tasted sweet and I managed to swallow a lot while the rest dripped down my chin and onto my throat. To that point in our lives I had not known Suzanne was capable of producing as much girl cum as she had in this session. But the reality was not lost on me either. The man on the screen made her this way and this recognition made my cock stir back to life.

When she finished riding my face, Suzanne rose to her feet. She remained standing over me and I simply looked upward to take in the view. 

"He wants me to join them while you stay here and watch on the screen."

"I thought we were going together." I paused as she looked down at me. "I don't like this. We can't trust him yet."

"I think we can trust him Bob. He just fucked the shit out of her while her husband watched and did nothing. That says it all for me. I want that too. I want that feeling of fullness and satisfaction that so far in our marriage you've been unable to deliver."

It was the second crushing blow of the day from her and this time my face reddened in shame. 

"We both know it's going to happen sooner or later and I think you should start getting used to the fact that as male submissive in this relationship you are on the bottom rung of the ladder."

My face burned with shame and envy as my cock raged.

"Here. Take this." She said and extended the iphone to me. 

I accepted the phone and placed it to my ear immediately. Suddenly I could hear a woman's shrill voice screaming as another massive orgasm washed over her. "Oh God, Oh God fuck me Master. Fuck me Master!" She yelled over and over.

"I'm going to go get dressed." Said Suzanne. "He wants me to look pretty before he soils me in front of you."

After she walked out of the room, I rose to my feet and then dragged my chair back toward the computer. Then I sat down and watched and listened as I held the iphone to my ear. 

It was pure cuckoldry and domination. The wife was on her back with her legs on his shoulders as he plowed into her. The motion looked like ditch digging and each thrust appeared to go deeper and stretch her wider. Time passed by quickly as the young dominant fucked the wife of the cuckold sitting off to the side. Occasionally the cuckold would look at the camera and I could see him through his lust glazed eyes. He was in a happy state of sadness and I envied him for it.

When Suzanne re-appeared in the doorway, I nearly dropped the iphone. She looked incredibly hot in her short red mini-dress. Its top barely covered her nipple line and the hem barely covered her ass. Her long blond hair was pulled back and done up in a bun behind her head. Her face was lightly made up in color except for the bright red lipstick that accentuated the sexuality of her mouth. Rounding out the look were the open-toed red stiletto heels upon her feet.

"Are you wearing panties at least?"

"No darling and when I come home I expect to feed you a nice treat."

"Be safe Suzanne." I said while covering the phone with my palm over the speaker.

"Have you talked with him yet?" She asked.

"I don't know what to say."

"Start with Hello. Then add words from there. It's not difficult. Tell him he made your dicklet hard and you want to suck his cock." Then she laughed.

"Mine is bigger than a dicklet." I said.

She looked upward. "Men and their dicks. It's a wonder we haven't blown up the planet yet." Then she turned and headed out the room. "There's some pizza in the freezer if you get hungry. She called out from the hallway.

I thought about following her out but I half expected her to return and ask me to join her. When I heard the car start I got up and went to the window to look out. I watched as she drove down the driveway and then turned right and drove past the neighbor's hedge line and out of sight. 

"Are you there slut?" It was him. His voice boomed out of the iphone with authority.

"She just left. This is her husband. Bob."

"Hello Bob. How do you like the show so far?"

"I came in the first minute."

He laughed. 

"Can I come over and watch you fuck my wife?"

"No. I want you to watch on the screen."

All of a sudden the screen went blank.

"Oh no. The screen went dark."

"Yeah. It does that. You'll need to pay to keep watching."

"You can't be serious."

"I just use the video to seduce the wife. When she comes over I'm going to put her on broadcast. Maybe people you both know will see."

"Does she know that?"

"Bob. Your wife just watched me dominate a couple on live Internet video. Now she's coming over to see me. I asked her to dress sexy for me too. Did she?"

"Yes. She looks hot."

"Your wife dressed sexy to show me she's willing to do what I want in exchange for my cock thrusting deep inside her. Do you really think she'll care if I broadcast her on the Internet too?" He says.

"She's not stupid. We're not stupid."

"Of course not Bob. You're both submissive and I'm the dominant and everything we do from now on is up to me. Isn't that right?"

I don't respond.

"Well, I can see you need some time. Good bye." He said and the line went dead before I could respond.

Quickly I sat at the computer and clicked the small join button appearing on the screen. An information screen appeared along with fields for name and credit card input. The fee was $100. I quickly entered the information sought including the credit card number and its security ID I had stored in my desk drawer. 

Once my credit card was accepted the viewing screen returned. On it was a message. Thanks for joining. Our next show starts in two hours. 

After the shock of denial wore off, I called my wife's cell phone number and got her voice mail greeting. "It's a trap." I began. "He's going to broadcast your sex with him on the Internet. I actually had to pay a membership fee to see you. I hope you get this message before it's too late."

[To be continued.]



Why...



I don't know why I do you like this. I guess it just comes from my desire to own you totally at night. In the daytime, you are so strong willed. A leader. Others follow you around. Anything you ask of them, they do. Ready. Eager to please you. There...at your beckon call. But the nights are mine. That is when you are mine. Totally. Completely. One hundred percent MINE. All your power, you give to me. I know what you want. I know your secrets. I know your dark desires. The things you speak of to no one. I know. You know that I know. When you look into my eyes it sends shivers down your spine, because you never know what the night brings. Yet, you endure. You take all for me. And God that excites me. That makes me hotter than anything else on this earth possibly can. 

***

Nightime. My time. We are waiting. I am sitting clothed in a pair of trousers and a white tank top with nothing underneath. My excitement shows as my brown nipples poke through the thin material. Erect. Visions of the night playing in my mind. 

Perched on the edge of the bed, holding your head in my lap, running my fingers through your hair, I look down at you naked. Vulnerable. A tear trickles down your left cheek. Lifting your face up to my lips and I kiss the tear away. Your hands, bound at the wrists, remain in my lap. Playfully, I tangle my fingers in your hair. Forcing your head back, your eyes look up into mine. I just gaze down into yours. 

You have been bound for hours now. I know it is uncomfortable. I feel your pain. But I also know your pleasure. And that thrills me.

"You know how much you turn me on, when I have you like this?" I lean down and whisper in your ear. More an observation than a question as I know you are unable to answer with the white handkerchief gag stuffed into your mouth.

Looking into my eyes, you blink twice. This tells me everything. You know. You know how turned on I am, as we wait. You know how wet I'm getting, as I hold your face up, gazing into your eyes. 

I see the fear in your eyes. Fear of what awaits you tonight. Fear of where it will lead. Fear of when it will stop. Fear of the unknown, yet the knowledge that somewhere deep inside you, it is what you want. Your desire. That which you cannot bring yourself to do, but I can. I can take you there. This is why you need me. That is why the tear. That is why my strong man cries. That's what makes me ache deep with desire for you.

We both hear the knock upon the door. You look up at me. The fear in your eyes turns to terror. I, almost, for a split second start not to answer the door. But I know in the end you will forgive me. You always have, you always will. 

I look down at you and watch you close your eyes. I wonder what is going through that mind of yours. Do you despise me? Do you worship me? How I wish I could read your thoughts right now.

Releasing your face, I pick up the blindfold which is laying on the bed beside me, and place it over your head, covering your eyes. Bringing total and complete darkness to you before I stand to go and answer the door.

Returning with our visitor, I touch your shoulder and tell you to crawl upon the bed and lay there with your legs spread wide. I want you open. I want you wide open for me. I want you wide open for our visitor. I want you. I want to own your soul tonight. 

As you stand, I see that your cock has shriveled so it looks as if you do not have one at all. It has crawled completely up inside you. It is useless. Nothing, for the moment. What has been is no more and it makes me smile. I know how much you dread, know how much you desire. I know the emotions you are going through. It drives me crazy, making me want you more than ever. 

Crawling, still fully clothed onto the bed with you, I lay beside you. Touching you. Running my fingers gently across your back. Letting you know I am here with you and I want to see everything. I want to see all. This is my fantasy too. This is what I want and what I want, you want. My control over you is your desire to please me.

I watch the K-Y gel being squeezed and the large dollop in the palm. It is being slathered generously, slowly over the head of the cock. The fingertips being greased and the lubricating of your asshole. Your jaw clenching. Sweat pouring down your beautiful face. The jamming of the blunt finger, then fingers into your hole. The slick fingers stretching you out. The greasy hand pushing the fingers in deeper and deeper. Working the gel inside you. In and Out. In and Out the fingers work.

God, what are you thinking as those fingers fuck you? What would the guys you work with think of their leader now? What if they saw the fingers up your asshole? What if they knew how hard your cock was getting now as the fingers are working in and out your asshole? What would they think if they knew you wanted this? I laugh to myself.

The fingers are opening you up...opening you up WIDE and you are enjoying every painful thrust of those greasy, degrading fingers. You are enjoying and I am enjoying. It makes me so hot to see you becoming the slut. Your ass becoming your cunt and you being fucked by fingers...nasty...greasy...fingers. Your ass lifting off the bed to meet the fingers. As you raise, I see your cock is rock hard. You are so excited. You wanting them deeper inside you still. Your body doesn't lie. Deeper. It can't lie. D E E P E R still. You can hardly stand it. Then the fingers are removed. I can hardly stand it. The fingers are gone. Your ass raises...searching for the invasive digits. Searching. Wanting. 

Aaaaahhhhhhh....but what your ass finds instead is a cock. A rock hard cock. The greasy fingers grab your ass cheeks and spread them as the massive hard cock slips into your cunt ass. Filling you as I watch. Seeing you being fucked by a cock. Shame. I see the shame. Lust. You are transparent. You want it. You want your virgin hole fucked by this cock. This cock that is being thrust ruthlessly in you, as you wiggle your hips. Lifting yourself. Wanting this cock to fuck you D E E P E R. You moan into your gag as the cock is being pumped harder and harder into you. FASTER and HARDER. FUCKING YOU. GIVING YOU, THE SLUT, THE RIDE OF YOUR LIFE. POUNDING YOUR CUNT. AGAIN AND AGAIN IT IS RAMMED INTO YOU. DEEP. You are feeling it deep inside you. Hitting your guts. So DEEP. THEN... suddenly it is out of you. You raise your ass, again searching. Wanting. But it is gone. Not there. 

Someone is leaning forward. Across you. Their breasts fall onto your back. Their erect nipples pressing against you. I sit up and lean forward to meet them. Stretching across your body. The sound of our kiss interrupts the silence of the room. 

"Thanks dear," I softly whisper to her.

Her reply is simply a smile before turning and walking away with her hard cock. Her plastic dick that she has just fucked you with. Then the door opens and closes. She has left with her hard cock. She is gone. Her cock gone. Now there is just you and me. You are hard. I am wet.

Sliding down, I face you, remove your blindfold, and look into your eyes. Deep into your eyes. I see the whore you are. You know, I have given you this forbidden fantasy. I have made it your reality. I have given you what you didn't have the nerve to even admit to yourself. I give you. I pull the gag from your mouth. That beautiful mouth of yours. I want you so bad. I need you even worse than I want you. Your shame has ignited fires deep within my soul.

I slide my shirt over my head. Losing eye contact only as the t-shirt slides over my eyes, then it is regained. I pull my trousers down across my lifted hips. GOD I WANT YOU. Tossing my clothes beside the bed I want nothing in the world more than to have you inside of me. INSIDE OF ME NOW. I ACHE FOR YOU NOW.

Leaning over, I place my mouth on yours. Overwhelmed with the need to feel your lips against mine. Your tongue gently finding its way into my mouth. I ravage your mouth with my own. I need to feel your hips against mine. Without breaking kiss, I reach down and untie your wrists.

"Fuck me," I gasp.

"Fuck me," I order.

"FUCK ME," I scream.

And you are ready, as you roll over onto your back. My hands holding you by the back of your neck, pulling myself on top of you. Wanting to feel you against me. Under me. Inside me. I ride your cock. That rock hard cock of yours. Impaling myself upon it. Grinding you deep inside me as I breathe you in. Taking in your shame. Your darkness. Taking your fears, insecurities, dark dreams, taking all of you into me as you quickly enter me. Filling me so full in one motion. Giving me all of you. I own you as I ride your cock...my cock. I become lost in the rhythm.

Looking down into your eyes, I see EVERYTHING. All things at once. I see your weakness. I see your strength. I know you are mine. RIGHT THIS SECOND you are completely mine and it pushes me over the edge. It is all I ask for. Mine for a mere second. Mine for an hour. Mine for a life time. MINE. The wave washes over me. It consumes us both. Taking us under. You pull me down against you. My breasts pressing against your chest. My lips against yours. Sucking you in. Darkness overtakes me as I tense, my body shudders, I raise up off your chest and stare down into your eyes as I cum...as you cum..as we cum together. Our eyes lock. I see. I see ALL. At this precise moment I know everything. I know why. I see it and I feel it. Your arms wrap around me and you hold me. After giving you your dark fantasy, sharing your forbidden desires with you, I give you absolution. Forgiveness. As you forgive me. And that is why we are so helplessly, obsessively in love with each other, isn't it? 

That is why...



Why



Some Why and Some What

Sex, romance and lust. Are we just hormonally controlled biomechanical organisms or are we unique self-aware beings with freedom of choice? Who knows what really drives us. I am certainly not sure what drives me. I think it is the drama and the excitement. Is not that what people usually describe as romance? Actually most of all I think it may be the anticipation. The waiting for the moment but not really knowing what will happen. Fantasizing about it but not really knowing what will occur. What will she think? How will she react? What does she really want? What will happen in all those little synapses in her brain? What will happen in my own head? Will it be magic? I know I love it all; the anticipation, the planning, the hoping, the fanaticizing, the imagining and maybe most of all the waiting. No, I do not just love it. I think I truly need it.

As they walked toward one another their eyes locked. Their eyes silently shared the secret and the need. To any observer it was just an ordinary meeting of an utterly ordinary man and woman. They were probably business associates meeting for another meeting. After all that is what they were during most of the rest of their lives. Both were fairly attractive but middle aged. They were just ordinary people, far too unimaginative and too staid and just not young enough to count any more. He was dressed in the currently popular business casual. She looked a bit more formal. He was in crisp trousers and a button down shirt while she was in a mid thigh skirt and suit jacket. As a nod toward sexiness her hose were very shear and black. Her three inch heels were also a little high for business, at least for her age. She was still slim with a good figure but as I said…. To the world all they did was casually greet one another. Only they knew it was really the beginning of the dance. Each was opening more and more to their own lust. She could taste the need mixed with the fear. His stomach was in knots. 

Him

I drank in the sight of her and it only made me more thirsty. She looked like she had prepared herself exactly as I asked. As she walked toward me I watch the roll of her hips caused by the height of her heels and imagined the garter straps framing the thong hidden under her conservative skirt. Her conservative public demeanor makes her anticipated surrender all the more exciting to me. It makes our secret all the more powerful. Who could possibly guess that such an obviously sensible and professional business woman would in private willingly allow herself to be transformed into such a perfect little sex toy. Her conservative suit covers the outrageous lingerie that is both a symbol of and the first step in her surrender. No one could possibly guess how willingly and perfectly she surrenders. I think it almost surprises her as much as it would them. Only the wistfulness of her smile could possibly give away that anything out of the ordinary is going on. It is our secret.

When I had stripped her to only her hose and heels and I was naked, I sat on the edge of the bed and told her to come to me. She knelt and crawled to me on her hands and knees. A jolt of lust hits my brain and my cock. I totally unprepared for her to, on her own, do something so obviously sexually submissive. She then knelt up again between my spread knees. 

“Cup your breasts in your hands,” I tried to make my voice a soft whisper covering a steely demand. “Offer them to me. Make me want to touch them.”

Her hands moved up and cupped her breasts. Then using just her fingertips she lifted them as if to offer them to me. I could see their softness and weight in her hands. I do want them. Oh how I did want her. Letting her breasts slip from her hands, she began to tease her nipples. Her eyes were on my cock as I stroked myself and I watched her nipples thicken and lengthen with her touch. 

“Roll your nipples between your fingers. I want to see how long and thick you can make them. Come on, pinch and pull them.”

Her eyes have never left my cock since she knelt between my legs. She seem to just intently watch as I rolled my balls in my fingers. As I watched her work her nipples I gently stroked my erect shaft.

“Squeeze them. Tug on them harder. Harder!” I hissed.

She pulled harder on her nipples. I watched them stretch from the soft globes and listened to her soft moan from the painful pleasure. I ran my fingers into her hair and pulled her face up to my own. I kissed her with a hunger on the verge of violence. I used my tongue to duel with hers and then stroke her lips and teeth. I literally tried to drink from her mouth. She let go of breasts and moved her hands to my back to pull herself closer.

I whispered sharply in her ear, “No. Hands clasped behind your back.”

She released the pressure of her embrace but did not move. I pull back and looked into her eyes, with all the authority I could muster, I evenly repeated, “I said hands together behind your back.” 

She seemed frozen in space. Was she testing my will? Did she want to be forced or had she had enough of this game? I began to disentangle my fingers from her hair in order to reach for her breasts. She then jumped as if from a trance. She squared her shoulders, straightened her spine and quickly moved her hands to the small of her back. Her new position thrust out her breasts. She was so beautiful. She may have remembered how sore her nipples were after our last meeting and decided I needed no additional encouragement. She may have just finally surrendered and decided to go ahead and follow my lead. I tried to look directly into her soul as I lifted her left breast by gently tugging on the nipple. I could feel her apprehension and I tried to balance her pleasure on the edge of pain.

“Are you going to be my good little slut?”

She nodded her head and I released her nipple. I watched the soft and round globe gently fall under its own weight. I moved my mouth to her ear and tongued it. Alternately I licked and blew warm air into the canal. My mind flashed to memories of long petting sessions in High School. Rolling your head in my hands I lick and gently bit her neck. I went back to tonguing her ears and then buried my face in her hair. I love the way she smelled. She smelled so sweet and warm and soft and just so utterly female. I want to devour her. Her neck was totally relaxed and her head moved effortlessly in my hands. She was mine, for my pleasure and for her own. After another long kiss I again look into her eyes to try to see into her heart of hearts, into her soul. 

“Ask to suck my cock.”

Averting her eyes she whispered, “May I suck your cock?”

“No, that’s not it. You know what I want.”

She looked back up and aggressively returned my stare, “Please, let me suck your cock,” she said in strong clear voice. She opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue, slowly and deliberately licking her lips. Then immediately after such a deliberately independent and aggressive gesture she dropped her eyes, her expression softened from confrontation to complete submission and she said, “Please sir let me take your cock in my mouth and suck you and taste your cum.” It was as if she needed to prove that her actions were entirely voluntary and only a game. Then in little girl like whisper she continued, “Please, sir, please let me suck you.”

At that moment time disappeared for me. We were the age in our hearts rather than the chronological age of our bodies. I pulled her face to mine and kissed her long and hard. Then with my hands in her hair I lowered her head to my groin. Her tongue on the head of my cock was exquisite. 

Her

It is only our second time together. It was very nice the first time and so I played along with his request. I had to go out and buy a garter belt and the stockings. I of course had not worn such a costume in years. It was not exactly comfortable and I kept finding myself occasionally aware of my partially bare thighs through out the day. I must admit though, it was actually a very sexy reminder of our planned meeting. 

As soon as we entered our room our arms were around one another and we were kissing. I enjoyed the way he immediately took control and began to strip me. Initially it was uncomfortable and embarrassing to have him undress me while he stayed fully dressed. No one had ever done that before. The way he looked at me with such unbridled lust and his constant reassuring compliments mixed with my embarrassment. The result was an odd combination of conflicting emotions but somehow it heightened my desire, my need. 

That really is him. Contradictions seem to be the basis of our lovemaking. With him it is always such a bunch of contrasts. Nothing is ever clear cut and simple. Our meetings always create in me a witches brew of conflicting emotions. His touch alternates between aggressiveness that borders on violence and such perfect calm and loving gentleness. Sometimes he scares me but then he always does something to reassure me and I end up just wanting more. He call me filth names but in such a soft and sweet voice. Embarrassment and reassurance, discomfort and pleasure, fear and desire, control and surrender. Through it all I just keep coming, over and over, harder and harder. And no man has ever talked to me so much during sex. He seems to constantly be giving directions: “Open yourself wider, take it deeper, bend this way, turn that way, move, don’t move.” And compliments, “you are so beautiful, your skin is so soft, you are so tight, you are so hot and so wet. “ Then he makes me answer him, “Yes, No, Please no, You can do anything you want, I’ll do anything you want, Yes sir, Yes ,Yes, always over and over, Yes.” It is a witch’s brew. It is other worldly. It scares me, sometimes it makes me feel foolish, sometimes it embarrasses me, but it always ends up making me want more. 

He said he stripped me. Actually we kind of stripped me. I definitely did not just undress for him. It was no striptease. At least not one I have ever heard of. There was no music, no sexy dancing. If there had been some thing like that I think it would have been easier. I would have been able to categorize it as a striptease, a game. This was darker. It was like I was being photographer by his mind’s eye. As he circled me and told me to undo the buttons of my blouse, I began to feel like some kind of prey being stalked. Then he pulled down my blouse so it was off my shoulders but still halfway down my arms and I felt like I was being put in some kind of bondage. He just kept pacing around me, never taking your eyes off me. He stared with such open lust. I could almost hear the click, click, click of the camera shutter in his head.



Why?



Why is he so strange? Why is he always so horny? Why do I need something more than what he has to give? I know that he tries. I know that he gives me everything he has, and loves me truly. 

When he pushes himself deep inside of me, I feel almost nothing. Yes, I may cum, but does that mean that I am truly enjoying our act of so-called 'love.' Or, does it mean that my body is enjoying a warm hand caressing it for once in its semi-short existence, but has yearned to be held for what seems like such a great while? 

Am I crazy? Or do I know what I do not want? Does he love me? Or my body? Or does his body love my body? 

When we are thrusting our sexes into and against each other it feels so wonderful, yet so empty and fake. 

It hurts when he gets out of me. It burns. He holds onto me after. 

Maybe I do love him. Maybe that is why we were brought together in the first place. Or maybe I need to learn to stop asking why. 

Love is love. Nothing more. I do love him. With every bit of my heart and soul do I love him. 

Could I ever leave him? 
No. 
Never. 

Why not? 

Because, I would break. I would die. 

I need to feel him inside me. I need to gain part of his strength. I need to stop asking why, and start asking why not. 

He is my soul. He is my mate. He is my dream that I have been trying to real-ize and create in my own true world. He is everything that I have searched for in my entire of life. 

He is all I want. All I need.



Why?



Why does a married woman decide to cheat? A woman who has a nice home, a loving husband and two nice kids. Why, after fifteen years of a satisfying marriage? I kept asking this as I read the PI's report and looked at the pictures included in it. Why? I kept asking in my mind and the only thing I could come up with was that she had a mental failure of some kind. Did she love him? They only met for sex according to the report. No woman in her right mind would do such anything to jeopardize all that she had for a few minutes of guilty sex. Mental illness was all I could attribute it to as the tears ran down my cheeks.

The PI had left me in an empty office to read the report; knowing I would need the privacy to assimilate what it said and to handle the emotions he knew it would invoke. I looked through the pictures and noted the almost depraved way she seemed to be indulging in sex with her lover. I recognized him as Chad Wilkens, a co-worker at the real-estate office where she worked as an agent. They'd been meeting a couple of times a week at the Motel 6 out at the interstate interchange and occasionally in our house in the guest bedroom. That's where the PI had gotten the pictures so there was no privacy issue when this went to divorce court. Afer the first time the PI saw them going into our house he'd rigged mini-cams and audio tapes in various rooms there.

So now I had to decide how to confront her and when. I'd pretty much determined that I would have to divorce her. There was no way I could condone her cuckolding me and expecting me to turn the other cheek. I considered myself a Christian man but the pictures indicated such depravity and lack of respect for me that I could not conceive of any reason for me to forgive her.

My name is Frank Nulund, I'm 43 and manage a super market. The job sometimes requires long hours away from my family and this is what may have contributed to my wife straying I thought. But hell, that was no reason to cheat that I could accept.

My wife's name is Joan and she is 42. We'd met in college and from the time of our first date, there was never another woman for me. I'd loved and trusted her all our married lives. As I said, she works as an agent in a real-estate office and spends a lot of time away from the office, as Chad did, and I guess that's what gave them the opportunities to participate in their extracurricular activities. Chad is about our age and married to Mona, a very nice, lovely woman and they have two kids also, about the same age as ours. I'd met them at various family functions the real-estate company had supported and always thought they were a nice family.

I figured the divorce could be done very amicably with irreconcilable differences as the cause if she cooperated. We made approximately the same incomes so there should be no alimony and if our son, Jeremy, 14 came to live with me and our daughter, Kim, 12 stayed with her mother, there would be no child support. The house would have to be sold and all assets split 50/50. If she didn't agree to this then I would threaten to divorce her for adultery and the PI report with all the pictures, audio tapes and videos would be made public. 

I thought about Chad and what this would do to his family but I didn't know how to handle that problem yet. I guess at the right time I would take the data I had and give them to his wife and let her decide. I knew it would devastate her as much as it was myself but she had to know the type. of guy she was married to and I wanted some revenge for what he'd done to my family. .

Just then there was a knock on the door and the PI came in.

"How are you doing Mr. Nulund? Do you have any questions on the material?"

"No. I guess not. It's all here as I expected." I sadly responded.

"Do you want to see the videos or listen to the audio tapes? You might get a better idea of how the events transpired."

"No thanks, I couldn't take anymore than what the photos show." I answered. I really couldn't take what I'd seen as she'd totally given herself to another man and so I got up and prepared to leave. On the way out I wrote the PI a check for the balance I owed him and taking his report with the photos, audio and video tapes, I left his office.

I'd taken the afternoon off and decided to just let the assistant manager handle things at the market. It was good training for him and he could reach me on my cell if needed. Stopping at a park near our home I mulled over in my mind the events that had led me to discovering my soon- to-be ex wife's adultery. I didn't want to go the house we called home because I could no longer think of it as a home; just a house where we ate and slept. I decided I would have to try to hold the family together as long as possible for the sake of the kids as they needed the security of a home.

Joan is an attractive woman and keeps in shape with workout and the activities related to her job. She isn't svelte by any means as she'd filled out some after the kids were born but I'd noticed she'd lost a little weight and was tired a lot lately which I'd put down to a new diet. She still looks very nice to me. Our sex life had been frequent up to a few weeks ago and very loving but bland mostly, using the missionary position and little or no oral sex. I'd thought about broaching her on spicing up our sex life but was always afraid of her reaction to some of the fantasies I had. 

I didn't catch on right away as to the reduced frequency of our mating but looking back she didn't want to have sex with me on the days she'd been with Chad. But all other times our love making continued as before. It was when I accidently saw a bank billing for her personal business card and noted charges to our local Motel 6 that I became suspicious and decided to do some checking. The PI's report was the result. 

Maybe I should have confronted her about it then but if she was cheating I wanted it documented. It was very expensive and I'd had to go into our retirement savings to pay for it. I determined that if he found out what I expected, I wouldn't have to worry about growing old and retiring together someday. 

The thing that bothered me the most was that she never seemed to change her loving attitude toward me even as she was having her affair. I wondered about how she could be so two-faced about it and act like nothing had changed in her life. She must be a good actress, I thought. What she was doing with Chad indicated she'd lost her love and respect for me as her husband and lover and her insidious behavior must be dealt with.

As I sat in the park where we'd taken our kids so many times as they were growing up I could feel my eyes tearing up again and my thoughts went back over the fifteen tears of what I thought was an ideal marriage. All the good times with only occasional problems. How could she have given it up so easily? I sobbed quietly with my head back against the head rest in the quiet of the park for some time until I brought myself under control.

Another thought came to me. If she truly were suffering from a mental illness could I stay with her? Our wedding vows included the words "...in sickness and in health." Mental illness is a sickness. Could I stay in the marriage to honor that vow if she stopped her affair? But the marriage vows also included the words "...and forsake all others." and she had certainly not done that. I decided that I could never trust her again and if I can't trust her, even though its caused by a sickness, I couldn't live with her. How could I control her and work too? So divorce was the only solution.

Next, I considered how to manage the break with minimum impact on the kids and without having a major confrontation with her but first I needed to find and talk with a divorce attorney. Using my cell I called our attorney to get a recommendation from him. Jerry was surprised when I told him what I wanted but provided me with a name, Ron Jenkins, and a phone number. Before hanging up I asked him to rewrite my will removing Joan and naming our kids as the sole beneficiaries. I immediately called and made an appointment for the next morning with the divorce attorney. Then I decided to go home and try to act normal for a few more days.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When I got home, Joan hadn't arrived yet, but the kids were home from school and doing their homework. I was proud that they'd disciplined themselves (with a little help) to do it as soon as they got home from school.

"Dad," Kim asked. "What are you doing home so early?"

"I had some business to take care of honey and rather than going back to the store afterward, I just came home to check up on you guys."

"Oh, dad. You know what hard workers we are." she responded with a roguish grin as we hugged.

She was a great daughter and I was going to miss her when I split with her mother.

"Oh sure you are. Isn't your mother home yet?"

"No, she called and said she had a showing and would be a little late. She's bringing chinese home for dinner."

"Sounds good to me. Is Jeremy up in his room?"

"Yeah."

I wondered if Joan was meeting Chad this afternoon at Motel 6 as I went upstairs and rapped on Jeremy's door. I'd pulled off the PI as I had all the information I needed so wasn't keeping track of her affair as I had before.

Jeremy opened the door and I ruffled his hair and hugged him.

"What's up dad?"

"Nothing Jer. Just letting you know I'm home. How's school going?"

"Good. No complaints."

We talked for a few more minutes then I went downstairs and made myself my favorite drink, scotch on the rocks, while I waited for Joan to get home.

She came in a half hour later looking a little tired and pale, even a little grayish and with her recent weight loss it made her dress hang a little loose on her. Funny, I thought, she hadn't mentioned going on a diet. I watched as she took the bag of chinese into the kitchen and hugged Kim. Then she went and called upstairs for Jeremy to come for dinner before turning to me with a smile that lit up her whole face.

"How was my darling husband's day?" she asked with a kiss on my cheek.. 

"Fine." I responded returning a kiss to her cheek.

"Are we grouchy about something today?" she asked with a questioning look on her face.

"No, I'm fine honey. Just a busy day." I responded trying to act a little more cheerful. 

She looked at me with a funny expression on her face, almost like guilt I thought, and turned went back into the kitchen.

I finished my scotch and went out to the kitchen to help her set the table while Kim poured the water glasses. She seemed to love me as much as she always had and it really puzzled me as to why she was suddenly needing extra sex and risk our marriage. But it would soon be a moot point since the divorce would proceed, no matter the reason for her adultery.

We had a pleasant meal together as Joan told us about the showing that had delayed her. It seems it was a rather large, expensive house and her commission would be considerable. I didn't know or care whether there was a real showing or she had just indulged herself with her lover instead. I was past caring, but I tried not to reveal my inner feelings for the kid's sake as we ate. Afterward, the kids cleaned up the kitchen and while Joan was upstairs putting on more comfortable clothes, I went into the family room watch the news. I heard the shower running upstairs and I wondered if she was washing off her lover's smell so she could give me a guilty fuck tonight. I was getting mad about her affair and beginning to think about an appropriate revenge.

That night she did try to initiate sex but I put her off and rolled over away from her. I feigned sleeping and I could hear her sigh as she turned away.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next morning I was up early and out of the house before the rest were up. I left a note explaining that an important project at work needed to be finished today and I needed an early start. I really was finding it very difficult to function normally around Joan and I needed the time away from her. I did finally get into work and managed to get a few things done before I had to leave for my appointment with the divorce lawyer. When I arrived at his office I had my copy of the PI's evidence with me. His secretary ushered me immediately into his office and after introducing myself I explained what I was seeking in the way of a divorce. He glanced through the pictures and read the report and agreed that it was a reasonable plan and could be handled very easily if she agreed. If she didn't, the report, pictures and other data would provide strong leverage to get her to agree.

I asked him when he could be ready to serve her with a notice of divorce and he responded by telling me a couple of days. It would take that long to prepare the papers, file them at the court house and then prepare copies for serving. I asked if he could put one of the photos of her and Chad with the divorce papers to be served so that she would know immediately the reason. He promised he would do that and he would call me as soon as the papers were ready to serve. I left and headed home.

Now I had to decide how to break the news to Jeremy and Kim. The break-up of the family without any warning will devastate them I was sure. I couldn't warn them ahead of time as Joan would know before being served and part of my revenge was going to be having her served at the real-estate office. I planned it to be a total surprise that I knew about her affair. That and the notice of divorce should shock her into suddenly realizing what she had lost. It might also signal to Chad that his marriage might be in trouble also if he was there or heard about it. The kids were my biggest concern and I had to figure a way to break it to them gently.

I spent the rest of the day looking for a furnished apartment that I could call home temporarily until I found something more permanent. I finally found one and put down a deposit to hold it for a few days and then headed home.. Joan was home when I got there preparing dinner. When she saw mw he smiled and gave me a warm kiss. Lordy, I thought. This woman can act and if she can do it I can too and returned her kiss with some passion.

"Easy big boy. Wait till tonight and I'll give you what you're looking for."

Kim, who was doing her homework at the dining room table, cried in disgust. "Mom, that's icky."

"Sorry honey, mom got carried away for a minute." Joan laughed.

I wondered if I could stomach making love to her, but she might start getting suspicious if I didn't respond to her sexual overtures. I'd put her off last night but I couldn't put it off two nights without an exclamation. If I could, I'd have to do it.

"What's for dinner?" I asked with my arm still around her waist.

"Its going to be burnt chicken and biscuits if I don't stop playing with you." she responded with a grin at me as she returned to her meal preparations.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

That night as we prepared for bed I was apprehensive about having sex with her. I really didn't want to but if my plan for revenge was to be successful I had to try. She slid into bed naked in anticipation of our love making and her body excited me like it always did but I noticed she appeared thin and I was about to ask her why she was on a diet when she grabbed me and brought her mouth to mine. What followed was some very active sex compared with what we'd previously engaged in but nothing like I saw in the pictures with Chad. But no where near as uninhibited. When we finished she relaxed in my arms.

"Oh Frank, I do love you. You'll never know how much." she whispered to me as she returned my kiss.

This is too much, I thought. She's screwing around on me and professing her love for me at the same time. I'm a loved cuckold. How rich can it get? Well, she'll soon discover my love for her. Too bad, because she's such a good piece of ass. 

"I love you too sweetheart." 

There, take that you slut.

She snuggled up to me and we fell asleep together.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next day and night was a repeat of that night and I knew it would be the last fuck she would get from me so I went all out to please her. I even threw in some of the stuff I'd seen in the pictures. When I was done she collapsed in my arms.

"Oh Frank, oh my darling. That was awesome. You are my dearest love and I want to tell you that you are the greatest lover in the world."

I couldn't let that go by.

"I love you sweetheart, but how do you know I'm the greatest lover in the world? How many guys have you been screwing?"

She hesitated a moment before responding and I could almost hear the gears grinding as she tried to come up with a suitable response.

"You're the only one my darling. I said that because I couldn't see how lovemaking could get any better."

Good response. She is quick. Well, tomorrow you're going to get my response you slut, I thought. Just before I drifted off to sleep, she asked me a question.

"Frank?"

"Yeah."

"Can we have some time to ourselves Saturday morning? I need to tell you something. I'll take the kids over to my folks and we'll have a little sit down discussion."

What the hell, is she going to confess? Well, too late baby.

"Sure, fine with me. What's up?"

"I'll tell you then."

"Okay"

I had some difficulty getting to sleep after that thinking what would probably be going down tomorrow and how I was going to handle everything. I wondered how she was going to handle her confession. She'd make it all my fault probably. Hell, I was the best lover in the world and she loved me, so how could it be my fault.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next morning I was up early again and headed to IHOP for breakfast> I didn't want to see or talk to her again. It was all over now. Later, after I got to work, I called the divorce lawyers to check on the status of the divorce filings and he told me they had been filed yesterday and they were ready to serve. I arranged to have them served on Joan at 3 PM to give me time for what I had to do. Then I took the rest of the day off. Before I left I asked my secretary that if my wife called I was out on business.

Joan had gone to work and the kids to school when I got home so I changed into work clothes and then went out and rented a small moving truck from Uhaul. Going back home I began to load my personal belongings, clothes, computer, etc. I even wrestled my favorite recliner into the truck and then prepared to head for the apartment I'd rented. Just as I was getting into the cab the next door neighbor came over to see what was going on.

"Frank," she asked. "Are you guys moving?"

"No, just me."

"What's going on? Are you having problems?"

"Joan had found other interests so I guess its time to move on."

"Oh, that's too bad, but I can't imagine Joan doing anything to screw up your marriage."

"Well, you can talk to her when she gets home tonight. I'm not sticking around. See you Alice."

I drove away leaving her watching me with a puzzled look on her face. I knew that before the day was over that most of the neighbors would hear that Joan had been screwing around on me and I'd left her. Alice was the neighborhood gossip.

After unloading the truck at my apartment I turned it in and picked up my car. Returning to the apartment I stowed everything away, showered and changed my clothes. After lunch I went down to our bank and took half the money in our household account and transferred it to my own account and then spent a couple of hours taking care of insurance and other items that needed changing. At 2:30 I drove over to the middle school where the kids were attending and waited for them to leave. 

It took a few minutes to pick up the kids before they got on their school bus, They were both puzzled by my being there as we headed home.




Why?



"How come you're picking us up dad? What's going on?" Kim asked. 

"I'll tell you in a minute honey." I told her as I pulled into the park near our house and parked the car.

Kim was sitting in the front seat beside me and Jeremy was in the back as I turned to them. Both looking very confused.

"This is very hard for me to tell you this, but I've left your mother. You'll be living with her until we work out the custody arrangements but I have my own apartment now and I'll no longer be living at home."

"Why daddy?" Kim exclaimed as tears flooded her eyes. "Why can't you be with us anymore?"

Jeremy just muttered, "Oh shit!" and turned his head away to avoid us seeing his tears.

"I'm really sorry you guys, and I can't explain the reason, but you have to remember that we both love you and we'll always be there for you. You're both going to have to support your mother and be there for her, but our marriage is broken and I don't think it can be repaired. We'll be there as your mom and dad, but we won't be doing it together."

Kim was openly crying now and I reached over and tried to hug her over the console. I hated to see my little girl cry. Why did Joan do this to us? I asked myself. Look what its doing to our kids.

Finally, calm was restored somewhat and I drove them to the house where I no longer lived. Before leaving them there I gave them both hugs. Tears were still running down their faces and mine too.

You guys go and do your homework and try to keep your minds occupied. Your mother will be home soon I expect and I don't think she will be too happy so be prepared to support her. You can call me on your cells at my cell phone number if you need anything and I'll be calling you on yours to see how you're doing.. I'm real sorry about this but sometimes things happen over which we have no control and this is one of those times."

I left them and headed over to my apartment. Looking at my watch I saw it was just after 3 PM. Joan ought to be getting the bad news about now.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was about 5 PM that same day when my cell phone rang. I looked at caller ID and saw it was mys phone calling. Apprehensively I answered it.

"Hello."

"Frank?" I heard my father, Sam speaking.

"Yeah Sam. What can I do for you?"

I liked Sam. We had always gotten along fine together.

"Frank, Joan is in the hospital."

"The hospital?"

"Yeah, they brought her here from work. She collapsed there a couple of hours ago. Right after they served the divorce papers on her. She had them call us. What the hell is going on Frank?"

"Sam, she been running around on me and I found out about it."

"Oh shit, are you sure? That doesn't sound like her."

"I have the PI's report, pictures, video and audio. Its all there."

"Oh damn. This will kill her mother."

"How is Joan doing?"

"She's had a severe shock but I've also found out something else. She's dying."

The words, 'she's dying' just seem to stun me for a minute before I responded asking for clarification.

"What do you mean 'she's dying'?" 

"She has pancreatic cancer and its terminal. They're only giving her a few more weeks to live."

"My god, I didn't know that Sam. She never told me. How long has she known?"

"She's pretty heavily tranquilized but she was able to say about three months. She's really distraught. Can you come to the hospital? I think she wants to see you."

My mind was in a maelstrom of confusion. Joan terminal? What did I want to do. Damn, I've already told the kids I'm leaving her. The kids; oh shit, they're home alone.

"I'll come as soon as I can, but I've got to see about the kids. They're at home alone."

"Where are you at?"

"I'm over in my apartment."

"You had it all planned out?"

"Yes, I wanted to hurt her as much as she hurt me. I loved that woman and I trusted her. There are no excuses for breaking vows we make before God."

"I guess I can understand that." 

"I've got to get over to the house now. Do you know how long they're going to keep her there?"

"At least over night. They want to keep an eye on her."

"Okay if I bring the kids up this evening?"

"I think she prefers they stay away. She'll be going home tomorrow. She should be able to cope better then. Are you going to make it here tonight?"

"This is such a mess. I don't know what to do now. I'll stay with the kids tonight and tell her we'll talk tomorrow. I'll get the kids off to school and then come get her."

"All right Frank. I'll tell her. We'll stay here until she goes to sleep."

After hanging up I got in my car and headed back to the house. As I was driving my phone rang. It was Kim's cell.

"Hello Kim."

"Daddy, mom isn't home yet. Has something happened to her."

"I'm on my way home now honey. I'll explain when I get there. It should only be a few more minutes."

"Okay, bye."

Lord, what was I going to tell the kids. This was such a mess. Why didn't she tell me she was terminal? Maybe this explains, somehow, why she had the affair. She must have started it after she was told about her illness. No wonder she was losing weight and was tired all the time.

Pulling into the drive way at home, Kim came running out the door to greet me. Jeremy stood in the doorway, watching.

"Daddy, where's mommy?"

"She's in the hospital baby. She fainted and they took her in for a check up. Grandpa Sam called and she's doing fine so don't worry; we'll see her tomorrow when she comes home. They're just keeping her over night to make sure she's okay."

I took her hand and we went inside. I put my arm around Jeremy's shoulder to reassure him. He seemed to appreciate the gesture.

"How would you guys like to go out to eat?"

After dinner at our favorite pizza restaurant we went back to the house.. I called Sam to see how Joan was doing and he said she was sleeping comfortably and they were getting ready to go home.. I reiterated to him that I would be in to see her in the morning and bring her back home. We had lots of things to talk about. He agreed with me.

Before the kids went to bed Jeremy asked, "Are you coming back home dad?"

I thought a moment before answering. "It looks like I may have to Jer. You guys plan to go to school tomorrow and then I'll probably bring your mother home. We can have a family discussion tomorrow evening. Okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine." 

Kim, who was listening asked, "Do you still love mom, dad?"

"I've always loved your mom honey. Its just that something made it so I couldn't live here anymore, but I may have to come back to help your mom for awhile."

She smiled at my response that I was coming back home. I gave them both a hug before they went to their rooms.

After they left I made myself a drink and then sat in front of the TV looking at the blank screen for awhile. Yes, I'd have to come back home. If she was dying she wouldn't be able to look after the house and the kids. We would have to talk tomorrow before the kids got home to iron out living arrangements. I would have to assume there was a tie-in between her affair and being told her anticipated life spa was severely shortened. Maybe I would finally find out 'why?'.

There were a myriad of things I would have to do including canceling the divorce action. There was no sense pursuing a divorce with a terminally ill person. I'd have to give up the apartment too. Lord, why didn't she tell me about it. Why keep it a secret? We might have been able to work something out. 

Thinking about her and our fifteen years together and the thought of losing her suddenly made me very sad. Maybe it was the alcohol but it like I was suddenly covered with a pall of grief. It had been such a stressful day and to have it end like this must have been too much because I felt the tears running down my cheeks. In my haste for revenge I'd charged ahead without talking to her or confronting her. Now I would have to take the time to find out 'why'. We had nowhere else to go if she only had a few weeks to live. Her actions breaking our wedding vows meant I did not have to honor my obligations to our marriage but I couldn't throw her out now. I did still have responsibilities as a fellow human being and a parent.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The next morning I was up early and got the kids ready for school. Kim was excited about seeing her mother when she got home from school.

"Have you heard how mom is doing this morning daddy?"

"I haven't had time to call yet honey, I'm sure if there was a problem they'd have called us. Do you have everything ready for school?"

"Yes, its all in my backpack."

"Okay then, let's get going. The bus will be along in a few minutes. You all set Jer?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Okay, see you later then. Have a good day."

After they went out, I stood on the porch watching until the bus came and then went back inside. Before I picked up Joan, I needed to bring my stuff back home , so I called the truck rental place and got the same truck reserved. They promised to have it ready as soon as I arrived. 

I called the hospital and asked for Joan's room. She was having breakfast when I called but started crying as soon as she heard my voice. "Oh Frank, I'm so sorry. Can we talk?"

"I'm going to come get you about noon, Joan. I have some things to do first and after we get home we can talk Are you sure they're going to release you?"

"Oh yes, the doctor was in and he said a could go home this morning. I'm so sor....."

"Save it until we get home Joan." I'll see you later." I broke in gently.

"Alright." I heard back in a small, weepy voice.

Putting on my work clothes I headed for Uhaul to pick up the truck. It took a little less than two hours to get me stuff moved back home. Then I showered and changed clothes again and took the tuck back to Uhaul. I picked up my car there and headed to the hospital.

Joan was waiting for me, all dressed, sitting in a wheel chair in the hospital lobby when I got there. Her parents were with her and I was stricken by her appearance. Since I'd seen her yesterday morning, she looked like she's aged ten years. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying and her pallor was almost a grayish yellow. However, I steeled myself from taking her in my arms.

"Are you all ready to go?"

"Yes, they released me a little while ago. I've just been waiting for you." she sobbed out.

"C'mon then". I told her with some kindness in my voice as I didn't want her to start a scene in the hospital lobby. "Let's go home."

Sam spoke up then.

"She's our daughter but she's your wife and we gave her to you in marriage. If your marriage is finished we'd like to have her back with us."

"I hear you Sam and and I recognize my responsibilities as a husband even though your daughter has broken her marriage contract with me. We'll be talking when we get home and I'll let you know."

"Okay Frank. If you go get your car I'll wheel her out when you get back."

"Thank you." I responded as I hurried out to get my car.

Later, as we drove home Joan started to speak.

"Frank, I'm so sorry. I know nothing can tell you how sorry I am."

"Joan, why don't you wait until we get home. We'll have time to talk before the kids get home."

"Are you going to throw me out Frank?"

"No, if you are as sick as your dad says you are then we will stay together. This is going to be very hard on Jeremy and Kim. I've already told them that we were splitting up, but not why. I've rented an apartment and moved out yesterday but I moved back home this morning. I guess the biggest thing you're going to have to explain to me is 'why?'. Why did you do it and why did you do those things with Chad you never did with me? I think I deserve an answer and when we get home I want you to tell me 'why?' If your dad hasn't told you; I hired a PI and I have his report with pictures, video and audio recordings when you met Chad in our guest room. So there's nothing you can say that will disprove your actions."

Joan just sat in the passenger seat with her head down quietly crying.

"Alright Frank, I'll try to tell you."

We drove along in silence, except for her weeping, until we got home. I helped her inside and up to our bedroom when she said she'd like to shower and change her clothes before we sat down to talk. While she was doing that I made us soup and sandwiches for lunch.

After lunch we sat at the kitchen table across from one another and looked at her.

"Go ahead Joan. I want to hear it now before the kids get home."

"Alright. I don't know whether you remember or not, but about three months ago I was having stomach pains I thought was indigestion or heart burn. Well, after a couple of weeks and the pain didn't stop and I couldn't relieve it with antacids I went to see our family doctor and he sent me out for tests and a cat scan. I did all this without telling you because I didn't want to worry you or the kids unnecessarily. My job lets me get out of the office at odd times and I took advantage of it."

"When he got the results he made arrangements for me to see an internist. He did some more tests and finally told me I had a case of pancreatic cancer and there wasn't much they could do for me. He told me that it was discovered so late that treatment would be ineffective and I had only a matter of weeks to live. I was finally going to tell you about it this Saturday."

"It struck me very hard that I would be leaving you and Jeremy and Kim. I didn't know what to do or how to tell you or the kids. One thing that also kept going through my mind was that I was so young and really hadn't lived yet." 

"Sometimes when you aren't around I went to X rated sites on the computer and watched certain sex acts that really turned me on. I always wanted to do some of them but I never mentioned it to you because I was afraid you'd lose respect for me. I wanted your memory of me to be unsullied with thoughts that I was a slut. So I was in a terrible quandary and my judgement was clouded by the thought my time was running out fast. I wanted the experience of being a slut before I went, but the one who I should have talked to about it was you. But I didn't want you to remember me as a slut."

"I knew that Chad was into pornography because I'd hear him talking to a couple of other guys in the office one day when they didn't know I could hear. So I got up my nerve one day and asked him about it and he admitted to having a bunch of videos that he could show me. So, one afternoon we went over to his place and he put on several X rated videos. They got me so hot that we got involved. It wasn't as good as I'd hoped it would be or as fulfilling as when we did it, but I kept hoping it would get better. We even did it in our guest room a couple of times as you know. I would never let him in our bed. The last time we did it was in the guest room and I tried to make it as good as the videos showed it to be but I couldn't enjoy it and I finally convinced myself that it was never going to get better so I ended it with him. I know that what I did was terribly self- centered on my part and I did it without thought of you or our children. My only excuse is that when I received the word that I was terminal with only a few weeks or months to live my mind went blank and I could only think about myself."

"Now I want to sincerely apologize and be allowed to come back home and spend the time I have left with my family. There is no way I can ever atone with what I've done and I can't ask you to forgive me but I hope you can some day. I know that your respect for me I tried to preserve is totally gone because of my actions. I'd hoped when I started my affair that I could act like a slut and keep it a secret because I knew if you found out you would take the actions you did. I'm ready to take what ever punishment you want to give me because I need in my soul to be cleansed of the sins I've committed. You are the one I love and respect above anyone else and I need your punishment for my absolution."

I sat there for a few minutes after she had finished looking at her. She had turned her face down looking at the table and continued to do so, waiting for my response. Finally, I determined what I needed to say in response to her confession..

"Joan, I'm so very disappointed that you did what you did and not come to me first and that you .so completely shut us out of your thinking and your life. I can understand the shock when you were informed about your shortened mortality, but to completely cut yourself off from me because you wanted to do something that you were afraid I would have found offensive is beyond my reasoning ability. I would have gone along with anything you wanted to do. My love for you would have transcended all thoughts of withholding myself from just about anything you needed. I am your husband and when we married we became one entity with love as the cohesive force binding us together..I should have been the one to support you in what you wanted to do."

"It seems almost funny now, but during our married life I've wanted to do things in bed with you, but I was afraid you would reject me and lose your respect for me. Now I find out we had the same desires, but we never communicated with one another about them and look where its gotten us."

"As they say, its all water under the bridge now and yes, I want you to stay home here with us as long as you can. You've made a terrible mistake that I'm struggling to forgive you for, but I have a better understanding now regarding the 'why' of your actions and maybe that will help me come to grips with it. Maybe you should sleep in the guest room for awhile until the dust settles a little."

"I'm probably going to have to hire someone to come in and do the laundry, cooking, cleaning, etc. We may have to eventually convert the dining room into a bedroom for you when you can't get up the stairs anymore, but we'll worry about that later."

"Thank you Frank. I appreciate being here with my family and I'll try not to be a burden."

"I don't want you to think your going to be a burden. Its our responsibility and we will do whatever is necessary to support you. You're my wife and you're their mother and nothing will be spared in time or money for whatever time you have left. 

"Thank you honey." she told me as she reached tentatively across the table and took my hand.

"When the kids find out about you're condition its going to be hard on them. Its going to come on top of me leaving you and that hit them pretty hard. I told them we'd have a family meeting to discuss everything when they got home from school."

Her face saddened again as she thought about our children.

"We have to do it, I guess. They're old enough now, but its still going to be hard; specially on Kim." she acknowledged while she continued to grip my hand. I didn't pull away from her.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

.The meeting with the kids took place soon after they got home from school. Kim exhibited her joy to find her mother back home whereas Jeremy was less demonstrative but seemed relieved to see her again. They both wanted to know if we were still mad at one another and if we were back together for good?

We assured them that mom was back home for good but some problems still needed to be worked out in our relationship and their mother would be sleeping in the guest room for awhile.. I assured them that the problems would be worked out soon and they seemed satisfied.

I guess it was my job to go on to the family discussion that was not going to be pleasant, but had to be done and put behind us so we could go on.

"You know guys, there are some other changes that we need to talk about. Your mom won't be going back to work. She'll be staying home and we're all going to have to help her as much as we can. We'll be hiring someone soon to come in and help while I'm working and you're in school so she won't be alone."




Why?



Kim, looking puzzled at first, was the first to speak.

"Are you sick mom?"

Joan was sitting beside Kim and put her arm around her shoulders.

"Yes, I am honey and its going to get worse."

Kim's eyes widened as she absorbed why her mother had told her.

"What is it mom."

"Its cancer baby and it can't be cured."

"You're not going to get better?"

Comprehension was dawning on Kim's face and I heard Jeremy mutter, "oh shit!"

Tears were forming in Kim's eyes and starting to run down her cheeks.

"Are you going to die mom?"

"Yes, I am baby. We all have to die someday and mommy's turn is coming early. God is calling me home to be with him."

Kim turned and buried her face on Joan's shoulder and threw her arms around her neck crying. "I don't want you to die. You can't die. I won't let you"

Joan had her arms wrapped around Kim as I turned to Jeremy. Tears were running down his cheeks as I put my arms around him.

"What's she got?" he choked out.

"Cancer Jer. Pancreatic cancer. There's nothing they can do."

Needless to say for the next hour there was a lot of crying and praying before some sort of acceptance was reluctantly achieved. Kim still refused to believe that her mother was going to leave her and I recognized that she would need strong family support from another woman when Joan was gone.

Finally, in an attempt to regain some semblance family normalcy I called and ordered some pizza to be delivered. Kim sat on her mothers lap hugging her tightly and sobbing as Joan tried to console her while waited for the pizza to be delivered.. I was amazed at how well Joan was holding up but knew that she was a good mother and would be there for her children as long as she could. Tears were running down my cheeks too.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After a couple of days there was a degree of acceptance to our situation. Our parents and siblings were informed and they gathered together to provide support. Joan's mother, Marge, moved in with us and took charge of the household. Of course Joan had to relinquish the guest room for her mother and I was happy about that. I'd missed her in our bed and by making her stay in the guest room I determined it was just a cheap revenge against a terminally ill woman and I couldn't rationalize doing it anymore. 

The first night back together was memorable. We no longer had the inhibitions that had plagued us for all our married lives and Joan was very repentant and wanted to make this special for me. I was conflicted because she'd done some of these things with another man first and while married to me. However, I thought about the little time she had left, knowing her love for me and our fifteen years of marriage I decided to give her the lustful intimacy and love she desired. 

Her body was slimmer but still desirable when she came to me in our bed, naked and what started as a tender kiss quickly turned into a very passionate one. Our foreplay was long and just as passionate and when she performed oral sex on me it was the most thrilling and erotic thing she's ever done with me. Somehow, she managed to swallow my cock and before I could warn her I orgasmed in her throat. After I finished she came up smiling and licking her lips before giving me another another very passionate kiss. The taste of me was in her mouth but I reveled in the eroticism of the moment and plunged my tongue into her mouth to share the unique taste. This was the most erotic thing we'd ever done. 

She was gasping for breath and tears rolling down her cheeks and I was concerned.

"What's the matter honey? Should I stop?"

"Oh no, don't stop. I'm so hot and happy that I never want you to stop." Do me my loving husband, do me. Fuck me good." she pleaded.

I smiled at her. I'll do you, you wench. I'll do you." and proceeded to kiss down her body; stopping at each nipple to pay homage and then moving further down to her navel before moving down to my ultimate goal at the juncture of her thighs.

A loud moan escaped her as my tongue began exploring between her labia her her hands grabbed the back of my head and pressed my face deeper into her groin as I continued my ministrations of her most intimate part.

"Good, good good!" she whispered as she bucked her hips up against my tongue and lips. I moved my tongue and found her clit which brought a larger reaction with a stiffening of her body and renewed pressure on the back of my head. I continued to manipulate her clit with my tongue and and I felt her passion erupt with a throbbing intensity..

"Oh god, Oh god! I'm cumming. I'm cumming!"

She slowly relaxed under me and the pressure on the back of my headed eased as her orgasm ebbed away into a memory of intense pleasure. I looked up at her face and was awed at the look of adoration she bestowed on me.

"Oh, that was good. So good. Come and fuck me now. Put your nice hard cock into me and fuck me."

We were using words that we had never used before in our love making and it seemed as though we had lost all our inhibitions and our libidos were racing together toward the mutual culmination of our lust. I entered her wet vagina with one thrust and she groaned again and wrapped her legs around my hips. I began a rhythmic thrusting and soon had her crying out as she tightened her legs around me to draw me in tighter. I could feel her body begin to stiffen in anticipation of her orgasm and I increased the speed of my thrusts to try to make have my orgasm with hers and I was lucky. Just as she groaned and tightened her hold on me in orgastic bliss I began to pump my semen into her. There seemed to be a loud roaring in my ears as I achieved another tremendous orgasm.

As our bodies relaxed and while I continued to lay on her, I kissed her gently on the lips and she began to cry.

"Oh my darling husband, you have given me pleasure far beyond anything that I have ever experienced before. I was such a fool to not come to you to fulfill my fantasies. I am so sorry." she wailed."

"My darling, I have to share some of the blame with you because if I'd told you my fantasies, what you did would never have happened. Let's just go on without further recriminations and enjoy the rest of our lives together."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

EPILOGUE

We had a few more similar sessions and I even managed to eat a couple of cream pies from her, but in a couple of weeks we had to slow down because because she began to lose strength as the cancer grew. As I watched her body waste away all I could do was hold her to me as she slept. It was at those times I cursed myself for not having shared my fantasies with her and thought about all the years we had wasted. I forgave her for her affair, because I don't know what I would have done under the same circumstances had I been told I only had a short time to live. I had my own unfulfilled fantasies that I may have tried to explore before I died.

Joan lived for another month and at the end she was so heavily sedated that she just slid away from us. I was there, holding her hand, as she left me. Even though her death had been anticipated I was still grief stricken for quite awhile. Thankfully, Marge stayed with us after the funeral for awhile, but she had to leave eventually to go home and look after Sam. I hired a housekeeper to come in and prepare the evening meals and clean. The kids and I learned to do the laundry so we manage to get by.

Before she died Joan had told me to find another wife after she was gone because Kim needed another woman to confide in and guide her and I would need a companion too. I'm still looking and I'm still wondering whether to break up Chad's happy home or not.. I'll let him sweat a little while longer.



Why?



Why had I started playing bingo? I ask myself this question every day now. I must have been mad to believe that you could win the way I had, and gone on to be in the situation I now find myself, without any hope of getting out from under it.

Unless I was given the reprieve I needed.

I had seen an advert on TV for on line bingo, where you were given 'free' tickets to start, and a cheap joining fee. I applied the following morning on my laptop, it cost a tenner to get going, and I won, I won 40, then later 90, a week later I won 400, I was on a roll. The trouble was it would roll me right into the shit heap I now find myself in.

I never told my husband, I didn't think it mattered, and it didn't really, until it flowed over my head. I saw another advert for on line gambling, poker and some other things. It seemed to be the same format, free try's, nominal joining fee etc.

I had no idea how to play, but the site had a learning programme, and you could actually play, but only for tokens. Once you attained a certain level, you could have a proper go, and if you got better you could play for good money.

I soon found I had an aptitude for it; soon I was winning well on the tokens. Then came the day I played proper, but only for peanuts. But I loved it, it excited me greatly.

2 weeks later I was playing against other players. I won, and won, then lost, then won, soon I was getting more and more money in my bank account. The reason it all went wrong was, I thought I was better than I actually were.

There was/is a casino not far from where I live, so one afternoon I went there; It had all the tables, blackjack, roulette, craps, 21s. Gaming machines, etc etc. I joined, I wanted to see it, look at it, and decide if I could do it, I decided I could!

So one afternoon, I was there with money in my purse, I had listened to the man who had told me, 'Never take with you, more than you can afford to lose.' Words I heeded. I took a hundred with me, and came home with 130; if I had lost I would have given it up there and then. But I had won so no problem.

I went back the day after, the same thing, 100 became 120,, then 180, then a loss, then a win, the thrill of it overtook me, but I wasn't aware of the danger I was heading to.

Soon I was a regular player at the poker table, dinks and food became free. But I was always home to cook dinner for my husband. My home life didn't suffer, I love my husband, he is the centre of my life, he is in fact still that centre. But now my life is somewhat askew!

Me? My name is Lena, I am 25, my husband is Albert, to me its just Al. He is nearly 22, we met at college, him in the first year, me in my last, I met him by accident at a college do, and even now I can't remember what the attraction was, but he asked me out the following week, and it led to my now married life.

He is from 'good stock', but this comment always makes me smile, His family is well to do, whereas mine are not, but we get on great. His long divorced dad paid for our wedding. He is 'something' in the city or whatever. Just what, I don't know, but he certainly has contacts, some of whom I'm not sure of when ever I have met them.

Al was taken under several collective wings, and he also now has a good income, but if I ask he is always vague, so I don't bother now. He spends a few days away on business here and there, so I have a tiny kind of life of my own too. I just live the good life in our large house, children are not on the horizon yet, but they are on the agenda.

He is an only son, his parents got divorced shortly after his birth, his dad never remarried, and his mother has never been seen since. Even after many searches by his dad, and Al, nothing.

I am 5ft 5" tall, not bad looking; even now I still get wolf whistles, which is always nice, because it lets me know I still look good. I love sex, and all that goes with it, though Al needs it a bit less than me, I have a rabbit for fun when I need it. My body is always sensitive to the touch; I have remained faithful to Al, but only just. I have almost been seduced a couple of times. I have managed to hold onto my vows, but I was sure that one day it would happen, I just knew it would.

But not in the way that it did, and still does.

I was telling you about me, I have a really good body; it's well shaped and very curvy. And plenty for a man to get a hold of. My face is good and my hair is great, soft, and brown, with wavy loose natural curls down past my shoulders. My legs are strong and toned, I used to run athletics at college and am still in trim, I train and still jog.

My gambling career was going on a high; I was winning regularly, and beginning to move up the league tables. I was being matched with better and better players, and I was beating them more than they beat me too!

I had an account of several 1000s which went up and down as I won and lost but generally it was on the up. I stopped asking how much was in it, I knew what I was doing, once or twice the croupier who was there on most of my games, hinted that I was losing, so I would stop and go home. The next day I was back.

This went on for months, I never asked for money out of my account, it was just filled automatically, and I signed for it as and when. Then came a day when I was asked into the manager's office. I imagined they wanted to know how I did it, have I got a system, how did I know to play so well. I was excited; I must be a bit of a celebrity or something. Well I was, but not the kind I thought of!

'Ah Mrs Harker, Lena?' he said, 'please take a seat; we need to discuss your account.' 'Yes Mr?' I asked as I looked at his badge to get his name right. 'Joplin.' 'Mrs Harker, there is a somewhat large deficit in your account that needs some urgent attention from you, if you would be so kind?' 'Deficit?' What is he talking about? I thought. 'What do you mean Mr Joplin,' I said. 'I'm afraid you art 30000 overdrawn Mrs Harker, we need to get the balance down, and in fact, it needs to be paid off.'

I nearly fell off the chair, 30000? That isn't possible, it can't be right? 'But I have credit; you must have made some sort of a mistake.' I said easily. 'Yes ma-am you do, but it has gone too high, it must be dropped to zero as soon as you can?'

'But it can't be right, I have been winning, I have the win cards?' I told him. 'Yes Mrs Harker you do, but you also have the losing ones in your cubicle.' My heart was beginning to shudder in my chest. 'Please show me how you have arrived at this figure,' I asked, still believing there was an accounting error.

He did, and I nearly died. He show me the winning amounts for the 8 preceding months, all signed for by me. And then the losing ones, again all signed for by me, there was no mistaking my signature. I had made this signature my own, virtually impossible to copy, It was mine alright.

I had won and lost a fortune without ever knowing it. I had actually been nearly 20000 in credit at one time. But my losses out did my winnings by 2 to one at least But being the gambler I now was. I was only ever interested in winning, losing took a aback seat.

I sat there dumb founded, 30000, how the hell, what the hell. Then the enormity started to hit me, what would this do to my marriage? There was no way I could get that amount without Al knowing about it.

Playing for time, I said to the manager. 'Mr Joplin, please give me a few days to get my head round this. I need to go over everything to satisfy myself that this is real.'

'Yes Mrs Harker, but please don't ignore it, it won't go away, can you come back next Monday to talk with us again?' 'Yes,' I replied, and I left, and I never went back, until the Monday as agreed.

My gambling days are well and truly over, I never want to see a casino, or hear about it ever again.

I went over everything, the papers I still held, I couldn't quite get to the amount that they did, but it was near enough. What was I going to do? What would they do? Tell my husband? Take me to court? Shoot me? Break my legs? I just didn't know at all.

I dreaded my walk to the office, I felt as though all eyes were on me. The doorman escorted me in, and sat me down. I was on my own. Then Mr Joplin walked in. he sat down very solemnly. 'Mrs Harker,' he said, ' I'm so glad you made it, I must admit I was a little worried.'

'Well now,' he continued, 'have you found a solution to your, er problem?' I had decided I would try and bluff it out. 'Mr Joplin, I am at my wits end, I don't have that kind of money, I'm so sorry, but what can I do?'

'Mrs Harker,' he said, 'I am sorry to hear that, the money must be repaid, and by the end of this week or we will have to take action to retrieve it.' There was a big man standing behind my chair, it gave him all the authority he needed to tell me that.

'Our immediate desire is to get our money back, if we can't, then other avenues will have to be followed.' He told me. 'What will those be?' I asked. 'Well, we would first contact your husband, maybe take court proceedings to foreclose on your home, it is a large property isn't it Mrs Harker?'

'Oh my God, no, please, please don't do that, it will wreck my marriage, please tell me how I can repay you?' My bravado was gone; I had no option but to throw myself at his mercy. I knew for certain my husband would throw me out. There was no way he would accept any excuses, I would be gone!

'Mrs Harker, there is only one way to remove the problem from your door.' He said. Grasping at straws now, I begged, 'Please Mr Joplin tell me, I will do it, I promise.'

'There is someone who I deal with in these trying situations. He would buy your marker, and you will be at liberty to make a deal with him as to how this unfortunate matter can be settled.' It was an offer of sorts. But what deal would it be? And who would it be with?

'Mr Joplin, who is this person, what deal would be struck?' I asked. 'Mrs Harker, you would only meet with him if he owned your marker. Any deal you make would be with him. And please be assured here, it would be a deal from which you would not be allowed to renege on.' He stated.

These are the terms of today's meeting, you pay us the money by Friday, or we will take the steps I have already described. Or you agree to sell your marker on?'

'Please let me make this clear Mrs Harker, I am only the manager here, I run it totally, but I have to answer to the owner. Only he or they, if there are multiple owners can settle this matter for you. I had to give in, I couldn't raise any significant money by Friday, I had to agree.

He produced what looked like to me to be a legal document. He read my mind. 'It is a legal document Mrs Harker, believe me.' He said.

It was headed note paper from a large firm of solicitors. 'But will they know of me, who I am?' I asked. 'No Mrs Harker, they won't.' I signed. 'Now what?' I asked him. 'You will be contacted later today.' And I was shown out of the casino, just like that, out!

That night I received a call from a man, I assumed it was my 'saviour?' He told me to expect someone in 1 hour, and, 'Make yourself presentable Mrs Harker, my boss doesn't like slovenliness.' I was left holding, and looking stupidly at the phone.

I hurried upstairs, I would make myself look as good as I know I can do, and I did. I put on a snug, not tight, thin white wool, sleeveless dress; round necked, and not showing my ample cleavage, it ended about 5" above my shapely knees. I brushed my long hair down around my shoulders. A small but beautiful gold necklace that Al's dad had given me on my birthday, around my neck. I did my face, put on my backless patent white leather high heels on.

I looked good, even better than good, I looked fabulous. I looked and felt utterly sexy too. In another situation I would be turned on and hot, very hot. I would have this man eating out of my hand, if hell had me. I would get out of this, I was sure. My confidence was on a high.

What I hadn't done was try to play this out in my mind. All I was thinking was him settling with me, and this problem would be gone. I couldn't have been more wrong!

My husband who was on one of his 3 or 4 day trips, doing whatever it is that he does. He had made his customary 6 o'clock call. So I was safe from detection.

I waited in the kitchen, had a glass of wine, and watched the clock, 9pm was approaching fast. The doorbell rang one last check in the mirror, and boy, was I smoking hot!

I opened the door and nearly fell over; to be honest I don't really know what I was expecting. But it wasn't this. I was looking at Mack, Mack Harker, Al's dad!

'Hi Lena,' he said brightly, 'you look terrific, are you expecting someone?' I glanced past him, expecting to se someone else approaching. But no one was. He waited at the door, I hurriedly asked him in. He walked past me into the sitting room.

I went after him. I said. 'What can I do for you Mack?' 'It's not what you can do for me Lena, it's what I can do for you honey.' 'What do you mean?' I said. He held out a thick envelope. I took it and opened it up.

The paperwork I had signed at the casino was in it! I couldn't, even then, understand what it was doing in there. What he was doing with it. I was brain dead at that moment in time.

I looked from it, to him, and back again. Then stammered that I didn't understand? 'You have been a silly girl Lena, I own your marker now, and you now owe me 30 grand honey?' he said. 'But, but Mack, how how did you get this?' 'I bought it babe.' He blithely told me, 'come on Lena, realise your situation here!' He said this rather forcefully.

'But I can't pay it, that's why I signed the papers?' 'Yes I know,' he said. 'And if Al learns of all this, you know exactly what will happen, don't you Lena?' 'Yes,' I moaned, 'he will throw me out and divorce me.' I wept then.

'That doesn't necessarily have to be the case honey?' he said. 'But what can I do Mack, I'm finished.' I wept more and more. My marriage was over now I knew it. 'Please Mack, please help me, and tell me what to do, tell me what I can do?'

He went and sat in one of the arm chairs. 'Come here Lena,' he said. I went to him, not understanding what his intentions were. He pulled me into his lap and held me. I laid my head on his shoulder, and cried into his neck.

'What will you do Lena, to get out of this mess? To make sure Al doesn't know of it? To keep your marriage?' he said. 'Anything,' I told him, 'anything at all, I don't care what I have to do.' 'You can make it go away Lena, but it will cost you honey.' He offered. 'Just tell me Mack, please just tell me?' I whispered.

He ran his hand up my leg as far as it would go. I jumped up and yelled. 'Mack, what the hell do you think you are doing?' 'To make this go away Lena, the get out of jail price you will have to pay, is you!' He said.

That's when the penny dropped. Sex! He wanted me for the marker. 'Oh Mack, please no, I am your sons wife for fucks sake?' 'Yes Lena, I am well aware of whom you are, but I am a business man. I buy things that will be good for me. I have bought, in effect, you haven't I?'

Now I knew, but it hit me like a hammer. Mack is a good looking man, an older version of his son. Well built, powerful, and sexy. I know he has had many conquests, Al had told me, and to be honest, I had admired him for it. But now I was in the firing line, and no bullet proof vest!

He took my hand and pulled me back onto his lap and, unknowing to me just then, my seduction. Unwilling yes, but forced seduction was on it's way never the less! 'Mack please, don't, I don't want to, its wrong Mack, please think about Al, please?' I begged.

His hand was already high up my exposed thigh. 'All I'm thinking of is you Lena, how good this is going to be. And believe me, it will be good, and for you too, I promise.' He said. 'Please Mack,' I bleated as his hand rubbed against my scantily clad pussy.

He kissed me then, I tried not to accept it, but I had no choice. 'Mack please don't, please stop.' I begged. My father was going to fuck me, make love to me, seduce me, take me, do what ever he wanted with me, and to me. And it seemed nothing was going to stop him, nothing!

But he didn't just do me there and then, he kept working at me. He feathered my pussy, squeezed and rubbed my nipples, kissed me, nibbled my neck. Held me tight, loved me; I knew I would give in! I knew what he was about, the trouble was I knew him, I knew was a powerful man, and I don't mean just physically either.

When Al had told me of some of the women he had had, I had been amazed, A wife of the city's Mayor, a member of the royal family, politician's wives. I knew some of them. Some of the married women, who would lead you to believe that butter wouldn't melt in their collective mouths! 

Al said his dad was the ultimate ram, a complete pussy lover. If he had a woman in his sights, then that woman would give in, he had told me, and give him it all. How prophetic was that now?

I was in his sights, of that there was no doubt, and here on his lap, his cock hard beneath me, sticking into me. I was about to give him it all! I was still resisting, but my body was softening its stance. It was beginning to appreciate the attention it was receiving.

If this had been the man, who had tried to seduce me a month ago at a party we were at, I would be at him already! That thought sent an unbidden spasm through my pussy.

I tried what was to be my final plea, one last feeble time. 'Mack please, please don't, think of who I am, please?' He squeezed a nipple through my dress, I moaned. It was part arousal, part despair. He kissed me again. I was done for; it was over, the contest finished. I had tried; I could always say that couldn't I?

Without realising what I was doing, I half turned to him, we were full on kissing. I still knew what was happening was wrong, that he shouldn't be forcing me into this. But I also knew I was beginning to accept it. My response was like a fatalistic view. My body's longings were taking over. I wasn't being asked. I was being told.

Like lots of women, I had played this out in my mind many times, the scenario of forced sex, being raped, used, abused and made to suck and fuck. I had had some massive orgasms at the hands of a strong imaginative man. He was a total stranger who had entered my life, and taken me. He was oblivious to my pleas. Who was having me, no matter what, and being made to orgasm at his will, uncontrollably?

And now it was happening, the only exception was that this was my husband's father, my father! He had me, I was his, even if I went against him and told my story, no one would believe this. My marker would return to the casino, and I would still lose everything!

This was the time I knew would happen one day. I knew someone, a friend of my husbands, someone at a party would get me in the right frame of mind, or feeling randy. Or even just call me one day, and find me in a wanting mood. Lots of women have these kind of feelings, but never act on them. I was always sure that I wouldn't, (hopefully?) But I would be seduced into an affair somehow probably.

He took complete control then, cupping my heavy breast, working my nipples into a hot frenzy. His mouth found my neck. Then his hand finding my upper thigh, a quick caress of my pussy sent me into the love zone that he wanted me in. 

'Oh Mack,' I whispered, 'why me?' 'Because I have wanted you from the day I met you honey, I really have?' he said. 'I would never have let you know, I would never ever have made a move on you. You are my son's wife I know. But you have put yourself in this situation, not me. And I just can't pass up this opportunity. Business as they say is business!'

'This isn't just about sex Lena; it's about you, about me.' His presence was too strong for me; I had never been challenged by a man in this way. I succumbed to him. Now I understood what Al had meant about him getting someone in his sights, and they would give in. Here I was the living proof!




Why?



He was slow and gentle with me; but I knew unstoppable. My mind was still up in the air. But a warm glow, a warm feeling was spreading through me, like a slow burning fire.

I melded into him. He was kissing me, he was feeling me, I was responding. He was stoking the fire. I was getting hotter and hotter. He was going around me like a slow moving tornado. I was swirling around.

He pushed himself up from the chair, kept me in his arms and carried me upstairs. He was knocking the lights off with his elbow as we went. 'We won't be down again tonight!' he told me.

Putting me down on the bed, he undressed me quickly, simply by getting his hand under my gold necklace, grabbing the top of my dress at the neck, and just absolutely ripping it away. It was immediately turned me on; no one in my life had ever done that, not even playfully. 

Next went my underwear, just torn right off. The only thing I had on now, were my shoes, and my gold necklace. My shoes went next. I was in the hands of a powerful man, who was controlling everything, including my arousal!

He stood at the side of the bed, and started to take his own clothes off, slowly and methodically, never taking his eyes off me. He held me in place simply with the power of his stare, and presence.

Looking down on me he climbed onto the bed, and said. 'Go on Lena, do what you know you want to do.' His ever hardening and thicken prick was swaying about between his legs. I reached out and took it in my hand, it seemed mesmeric.

When I got my hands on it I gasped. Al is big, but Mack was bigger, not massively so, but still, he was bigger! He got me under the covers, and started on me again. 

There was no way to resist, but even if I had, it would have made no difference. He wanted to fuck me? He was going to fuck me! That very thought was the one that made me submit. I seemed to collapse internally. He had forced me into my own arousal; I was living my private fantasy.

This was the first time I was going to be unfaithful, and it was going to be with my father! My husband's dad! Mack is 44, yet could easily be taken for 7 or 8 years younger. I was to find out he was magnificently fit, virile and robust.

The last sort of word's I uttered in what might have seemed like a last protest was. 'Oh Mack, oh Mack!' I said them just as his fingers entered my slick pussy. 'Shhhush baby, Shhhush, let me make you feel good baby, real good okay?'

I had a hold of his cock, and I always loved that feeling of, and hearing, a man gasp with arousal as I held and felt his cock for the first time. It gave me a feeling of power of my own. My sexual knowledge of this, had been learned at an early age. (Ask my dads brother!)

Surprising myself, I took control for all of 10 seconds, I had him squirming as I fondled, squeezed, and pulled it. It was rock hard and big, oh so big in my hand. Then I was on my back, Mack was towering over me. 'Put it in Lena, put it where you know you need, and want it, okay baby?' he said.

I did as he told me immediately. The head of his thick hard strident prick was in my entrance. He pushed it slowly, inch by excruciating inch into me. I had my heels at his back trying to force him in faster. But he just took his time, He held it there right in my opening. I tried to hump up at him, but he seemed to know when I was doing it, and went backwards with me.

'Mack, please, please get it all the way in now, please?' I muttered. He smiled down at me, if ever I had seen a man who was in complete control of his actions; I was looking at him now!

I was beseeching him with my eyes, when he suddenly hammered the last 7 or 8 inches into me. It took me by complete surprise. I squealed, yelped and practically rolled up under him. He was all the way in; he was touching parts that hadn't been yet touched.

Then he was back out, and before I could prepare myself, he thudded it back in, then out with such rapidity. I couldn't time my body to his, I was still feeling the thumping crash of it going in and bottoming out, when in actual fact he had it out again. This went on until my body climaxed in a sudden explosion, my insides turned to liquid.

I'm not a squirter when I orgasm. But I knew I had done just that, I felt it, and I heard it in my brain. I was a heap of flesh under him, but my arms and legs were tight around him. He went on and on and on. I think it was an attempt at survival from my body, to hold onto its very existence.

I suddenly knew I was being kissed, Mack had cum in me, I could still feel it pumping into me slowly, powerfully. My pussy felt like mashed creamed potato. Well, it sure was full of cream now, mine and his. I felt wonderful.

He rolled us to one side, keeping his prick in me. We were face to face on our sides. He said nothing, just looked into my eyes. I didn't say anything either. I knew he was waiting for me to break the silence. He was letting me make up my mind about what had just happened. 

Would I want it again? Would I say to him? 'Now, you've had what you want? You have fucked your son's wife, I want you to leave, now!' I moved to him, and wrapped him tighter in my arms. I kissed him, what else can a woman do when she has just been forcibly fucked like that? and said. 'Oh Mack, what have you done, what have we done?' 

'Mack, I must admit, that was without doubt, and I hate saying this,' I said, 'but that really was without doubt, the best sex I have ever had, ever!' He kissed me back then, but in the most loving way, it was a kiss that said, 'Yea it was good wasn't it, I loved it and you too.'

I know that being in the situation I was in, having being blackmailed, taken used and abused by this extraordinary man. Had heightened my responses, got me aroused more so than I normally would have. It was the bad, the danger, the wrongness, the forced submission, a being more powerful than I could ever reject, or resist. The very secrecy.

I had never really known what Mack did for a living, but I knew it wasn't always on the straight and narrow. I know Al had had to shoot off a few times because he was needed somewhere, for some reason or another.

Nefarious was how Al had described his dad sometimes. I know he was well respected, and he knew a lot of high up people. I also was never really too sure of what Al did either sometimes. He would get up on a morning; wear a good suit, briefcase etc. Then leave and come home like your usual office worker. He would tell me it was to do with accounting and financial dealings. 

Mack said to me, 'I am writing off the 30 grand Lena, but that won't put you in the clear. I am going to keep seeing you whenever it is suitable for us both. But I will see you, you had better get used to it okay? You are in, and no out until I say.'

I had cleared my senses a little, and I was trying to take in what he was saying to me. 'You are taking me for your lover, fuck me whenever you want to, your bit on the side Mack?' I said. What about Al?' 'And how can you write off 30 grand?' I asked in astonishment.

'You will not be my bit on the side, you will be my woman, you will be needed, you will be extremely well treated and respected. 'And I can write off the debt because I own the casino,' he said off handedly. 'No? You don't, you can't, can you, do you?'

He pulled me to him. 'Yes I do, and you were right, that was the best sex, I shouldn't have done this to you, but I'm glad I did. You've been and will be, well worth having.' He told me.

'Well,' I said, beginning to understand the position I was in. And I was still reeling really from the sexual electricity crashing between us. 'You had better do me like that again then, or I will kill you Mack Harker.' He laughed at that.

I realised that I liked being in this situation, was I a closet sub? Was I going tom be the slut I had painted myself as, in my imagination. I wondered. Had being taken like I had been, woken something up inside me?

I grabbed his prick and kissed him, there was no way I was going to let him leave without loving me again. 'And, on top of that,' I said, 'you told me we wouldn't be going downstairs again until the morning, are you a liar too, as well as a blackmailer, and seducer of your innocent daughter?' I was on top of him by the time I had finished speaking.

'Lena, are you sure you can handle this again, handle me?' he asked me. 'Well, there's only one way to find out Mack, isn't there?' 'I don't think I've ever been surer of anything in my life now,' I told him.

I got serious for a moment. 'I love Al, and I would never leave him, and never want to hurt him, even though this would kill him if he found out. And if this ever comes out, I really would do you in Mack.' 

'But I want this now Mack, and I want it again and again, okay?' I kissed him then, and pulled at his wonderful prick. I knew it wasn't just what he could do with it. It was him, his manliness, his sexual prowess, he bearing. It was his absolute charismatic personality. He was every girl's idea of what a man should be like.

He began teasing my nipples; I was so quickly rising to the boil it was unbelievable. He had something that should be bottled I thought. No wonder he can seduce just about any woman he wanted. His magnetism was mesmerising, and so captivating. I was certainly mesmerised and captivated.

His prick grew in my hand; I was reaching behind me, one hand working his prick, the other working his balls. He worked my nipples; I suddenly knew this was a contest I was going to lose. From being in charge, I was being manipulated into submission, simply by my nipples, and by him looking up into my eyes.

'You are so beautiful and sexy Lena, it's no wonder men want you.' He said. 'And how would you know that then Mack?' I asked. 'Because I have watched you for the last few months in the casino, how the men in there wish you to be theirs.' He told me. 'I must confess, I had noticed.' I admitted. 'Yes,' he said, 'but what you never knew was you were being defended by me there!'

I was astonished. 'You are saying that all the time in there being leeched by the men, you were guarding my honour Mack?' I had to laugh now. 'Yep,' was his reply, 'If any body were to get you, it was going to be me!,' He laughed this time. 'And guess what?' he said. 'Here I am, I've got you, thank you God.'

Then I was off him, under him, and that fabulous prick was powering me down the rapids, the rapids of sexual fulfilment! He was unstoppable, he fucked me, and loved me into oblivion, how could a man be so good in bed, he was a love machine, his prick hit and devoured places in me that were unknown to me.

But it wasn't just his prick doing me; it was his whole body, the way he did it, the look in his eyes. The intense enjoyment he was getting from me and me from him. My nipples were in and out of his mouth, sucked, bitten, licked. I gave back as much as I could; I gave him everything I had that night.

Even if I hadn't he would have taken it from me, nothing I could have said or done would have stopped it. His strength of character was emptying me of all I had.

How many orgasms I had were uncountable, I came and came and came, and I know Mack did too, but he just powered on in me until I withered under him, he had taken me to where I had never been, and when he had got me there he let me go.

He lay down on me crushing me beautifully with his body. If there was to ever be any dissension about this from me, it was gone. Never would I ever say no to him, he wanted me? He had me, totally.

We fell asleep, or I did, so I suppose he did too. When I wakened it was morning, about 9:00am, I looked about me, I vaguely remembered having sex, and then it slowly came back. 

Mack! What had he done to me? My body was in fabulous torment, I had been fucked silly, I knew that, but I had also been loved completely. I rolled my head to one side and there he was smiling at me.

I didn't think I could move very much, so I just lifted my hand and stroked his now stubbly face. He leaned over and kissed me, I closed my eyes. He asked me how I was feeling. 'Fantastic,' I told him truthfully. 'Good,' was his easy reply.

He moved to me, pulled me easily to him, and kissed me. His body felt hot and hard at my side, it was glorious.

'Mack, we have to talk about this, but should I call you Mack, or daddy now?' I asked wickedly. 'Daddy will do very nicely in here Lena,' he replied. 'But before we do talk however, there is one thing I want to say, okay?' He said. 'What?' I asked. 'I love fucking my daughter!' He bellowed as he laughed.

I smiled, how would I ever be able to say, I didn't like being made love to by this man? He is, my Daddy. I snuggled into him, and admitted, 'I love it too daddy,' I whispered.

'What about Al?' I asked softly. 'I love him, this shouldn't have happened, should it? I was stupid, and you got the opening you obviously wanted, so you could get me where you also wanted, didn't you daddy?'

'Yes I sure did, and I'm glad, I will never say any other Lena.' He looked pensive, and then said. 'Yes, we have to discuss this, and decide how to proceed.' 'Proceed?' I asked, 'how?' 'He's away till Friday isn't he?' Mack said. 'Yes,' I answered, 'why?' 'Because I'm staying her until Friday morning then,' he informed me. 'Mack, you can't, he.... 'Daddy,' he corrected me. 'And you will do what I tell you,' he said.

With that, he flipped me over, and whacked my bare arse with a thunderous slap. I was shocked and stunned. But it sure concentrated my mind in a second. This was the, 'letting me know moment!'

I went to him, I made myself submissive. He had me where he would have me, no argument now. 'Okay,' I said, 'you are here till Friday with me, what then?' 'Between now and then, we will decide how to go about things, I will also buy you a new phone, with a password.'

'That way I can msg you, you can msg me. I will know Al's timetable anyway, so that won't be a problem. But I promise you, no risks will ever be taken, okay?' 'Promise me Mack, sorry, Daddy, Promise me?' 'You have my word Lena, now do you want this again,' he said, waving his prick at me, 'or shall we take a shower?'

I pondered briefly, and opted for the shower. Oh dear, what fun we were going to have in there! Then his phone rang. He picked it up, and said, 'It's Al, stay quiet okay?'

'Hey Al, how are you, what's wrong?' 'Nothing dad, I just rang your house, no one answered, just letting you know everything is going according to plan. How are things there?' He looked at me, smiled, and then said. 'Things have more than gone according to plan here too, couldn't be better.' 'Good,' Al said, 'where are you anyway?' 'You don't want to know Al, believe me.' He answered. I heard Al laughing, called him a dirty old dog, and rang off.

'Well, that's set the seal now Lena, between now and Friday, we love and fuck, and plan our way, oh, by the way,' he said as we headed for the shower, his hand on my firm taut rounded arse. He was fingering me, 'you ever had it up there?' he said, as his middle finger went into me.

I jumped and yelped at the intrusion. I was just about to say no! And I'm not going to, when I saw the glint in his eye! 'Oh Daddy, please no, I said this, as I was pressed up against the wall, his finger already busy in there! 'Please daddy, don't,' But already I was too unsure to move away. He whispered, 'don't worry baby, it won't hurt too much, it will be okay, I swear.'

He headed me into the shower; his power over me was total now. To say I was under his spell was a contradiction in terms. I didn't have an opinion, I knew that already. He said, I would do, no question of it.

As we washed and played with each other, my arse got lots of attention, and to be quite honest, I liked it; if not yet loving it, by the time we came out. But I got my first taste of his wonderful cock in there, I went at him like someone demented. I loved it, my knees were sore after I had finished. I sucked him dry. The feel of his cum washing down my throat as he ejaculated was awe inspiring to me.

When we finally dried off, and he took me back to bed, I got 69nd, he drove me insane, he got me in a state of mind where I didn't know where I was. He sucked the insides out of me I'm sure, the lashing my little man got, sent me over lots of edges, and he drank all my furry cup could give him.

But it was the fucking my arse got that did it for me. I wasn't ready for it, I didn't expect it, and I was put on a different planet.

How could I ever resist the power of the man? He was just so in command, his attraction was irresistible. His far superior knowledge. The extreme belief in himself. He expected, so he got! And whilst I tried to give a good account of myself in our doings! I was always at the bottom of the pecking order. I loved it. This being in and under complete control was more than the ultimate turn on for me. I was craving it. I found myself trying to think of ways for him to use me in more ways than one.

Halfway through making love to me, my feet were over his head, He pulled his monumental prick out. I use the word monumental, but I'm not talking in terms of size. I'm speaking in terms of active use. He had a way of keeping his erection, using it, and negating any kind of protest, that might pass my lips.

He looked down, glanced at me, I returned the look. He smiled and pushed his prick right into and fully home up my defenceless arse. I knew he was going to do it, he had told me. But still the surprise the intrusion the pain, were irreconcilable. I screamed out, he told me, 'be quiet Lena!' He then whispered for me, 'to relax, and wait.' I did as told, as I had now learned to do.

'What is daddy doing to his baby? Mmmm, has he got his prick up his baby daughters lovely ass Lena? Has he?' he murmured. 'Tell daddy what he is doing honey, commit to daddy!' 'Oh daddy, oh daddy, please daddy, you are fucking your baby's ass, you have your nasty beautiful prick in me. Oh please daddy, please be gentle with me?' I was bleating like an old windbag. But I meant every word.

He smiled then, he was holding himself still, but then began a gentle motion. He didn't pull out and back in. He moved it about, the sensation that billowed through me took my breath away, how could this be? I had never had this, and it was the most unusual feeling I had ever had.

He knew now my submission to this was over, then he fucked me, I just lay there and he fucked me. My feet on his shoulders, he worked his slick prick in and out; he seemed to have forgotten me. He was heading for his own summit I could tell. 

This in turn drove me on to be the one that got him there. I attempted to thrust at him as he thrust in. It worked, he was sweating now. The veins in his forehead were standing out. I had no idea what was going to happen. Then he roared out in a huge loud voice, it scared me. Then I shot a dumper load of cum into my arse.

The last charge of his prick into me nearly split me in half. I could feel my arse swelling as his cum filled it. Then I orgasmed, it blew me to bits. I wasn't expecting it. I hadn't thought of it, I had been so concentrating on him. 

I don't think that anyone could have exploded as hard as I did that day. It was the most momentous orgasm I have ever gone through. My whole body was a tidal wave of emotion, crashing through me. Wave after wave of shuddering trembles bounced on me, and in me. And to be honest, I don't think I ever will again.

Mack eventually pulled his prick out, it was coated in his cum, and my shit! He fell to my side, and we both lay there completely shattered. Both of us were breathing so deeply, if I had run 100 meters at top speed, I couldn't have been more out of breath, and he was the same.

He slowly moved, went to the bathroom, and came back 10 minutes later, cleaned up and smiling at me. I looked up at the man who had forcibly seduced me, blackmailed me, and taken me for his now willing lover. But even so I did still not really want to be a part of this. I do love my husband, his son. 




Why?



I would never love his dad in the same way, but I also knew I would never say no to him either. His essential demeanour was tangible, palpable; I understood now why people held him in such high esteem. Even though I knew he had or was fucking some of his close friend's wives.

He seemed to read my mind; I was amazed when he said to me. 'Lena, from now on there will be only you, I will not be available to anyone else as long as we are seeing each other.' But Mack,' I said, 'no matter how I react to you, or give in, and I know I will, this is still wrong. I have never had anyone make love to me the way you have, but I am still married to your son!'

'Yes you are Lena, and that is something I have to try and reconcile myself to.' He stayed with me for the next 2 days, he fucked me out of my mind, I have to admit, I was getting used to him, so I gave back as good, or nearly as good as I got! He was in my pussy, mouth and arse, and sometimes it felt like he was in all 3 at the same time.

When Al called he left me alone, but when he called his dad, he stayed with me. We slept and lived that week as man and wife, it was incredible. On the day Al was arriving home, he didn't touch me. 'Mustn't leave any evidence Lena?' he said, with a grin.

'Mack, daddy?' I said, he knew what I was saying without saying it. 'Okay Lena, you are free to go, no more from me, I must confess you are the most wonderful glorious fuck I have ever had. But it's time to draw a line under it. I know that. Nothing has been your fault, so don't ever feel guilty okay?'

He kissed me, and left, and he's never been anything else since, but a loving father to Al, and his daughter. He has never mentioned it to me. And I don't gamble any more either.



Why



I love my husband I really do even now after everything. He is my soul-mate and I guess that I'm just unable to stop loving him.

I met my husband when I was seventeen and we were a couple until we married when I'd just turned twenty three. Mark went to college but I didn't and in fact I still lived with my parents until the wedding.

Mark took my virginity and was the only man I'd ever had sex with which I thought was rather sweet. However like all young couples we did like to play around so over the years up until we married we did various things such as playing with each other under the table in a restaurant or bar, me slipping off my knickers and dancing bare in a club and even some outdoor sex.

Now they sound wild when written down but they weren't really that wild and the most outrageous thing I did was a bit of flashing (knickers, nothing else). However even before we were married Mark used to whisper nasty things about me and I would get hot.

Sometimes I'd have a climax with just the gentlest of touches plus his detailed descriptions of some naughty activities. Over time they became about me and other me; different situations and different activities but always me with another man. Eventually it was simply constant. I love Mark and I asked him why he wanted to talk about the woman whom he loved having sex with strangers but he always replied it was hot.

Now this was constant in our lovemaking before and after our marriage then finally about seven months after I became his wife he asked me if we could do it! At first I thought it a joke but quickly realised it wasn't. I got mad but he pointed out that we'd discussed it so many times it was only natural to take it to 'the next level'. I said no but of course he never dropped it.

After another few weeks of constant asking I finally asked him if he really, really wanted his new wife to have sex with another man and he said of course I do! That was when I agreed but told him I needed the whole experience to be a good one otherwise I would hate myself and him. He was a man on a mission and before a day had passed he informed me all was set! Set for what I wondered but all he would say was I'd have a great time that Saturday night.

Now we'd obviously talked about this for such a long time we'd explored my likes so I hoped he'd be sympathetic. I wore a nice, short but decent dress that evening, hold-ups, heels and felt I looked good. I'm not unattractive and can, as they say, scrub up really well so I felt attractive at this point. At half past eight a man appeared at the door; tall a little older than us well mannered if a little slick.

I sat nervously drinking wine (too quickly) as we made small talk then Mark put the lights down and Richard (the man) danced with me. It was so weird doing this in my front room in front of my husband but after years of discussion about this I was ready and let him kiss me several times before we sat and he began to make out with me.

I can't remember it blow by blow but after about twenty minutes I saw his cock which was (as discussed many, many times) long. Now at this point I have to say I don't give oral sex: can't stand doing it (it feels wrong somehow) and hate the taste. So I wouldn't go down on him but played with him for a while then let him tip me back and after some shuffling about he pushed his cock into me: His cock was a good size and maybe a little thicker than my husbands so I felt full as he entered me.

He was a careful lover and he withdrew almost fully each thrust trying to make the whole thing erotic and special so the sex was really good. I had a climax but nothing big as I think I was a little inhibited but the evening lasted some time and I enjoyed it. He was also very pleasant and thanked us both before he left, telling me I was something special.

Mark was beside himself that night and we did it three times after the guy went home. I must admit it was so enjoyable that when he suggested we do it again I agreed. What I didn't expect him to arrange it within days. The next guy he introduced me to was also fine, I can't actually remember him but I know Mark was a little disappointed at his 'equipment' which he felt didn't match up to his claims on the internet.

I reasoned with my husband once he'd gone that we'd done that fantasy and should move on but he just told me we'd barely begun and another two weeks meant another two men. Now up to this point they were all polite, nice and the sex fine but after the forth guy Mark suggested they were all a bit 'tame' and foolishly I agreed as the last man in particular had been a bit boring in truth.

Needless to say the next person to appear at our house was a good deal more forceful; not rough exactly but fairly insistent. Not only did he take control from the start he had sex with me twice which was actually a first with these strangers but a lot of fun. His manhood was nothing to write home about but he ground into me hard so that I had a good climax both times.

After that Mark spent weeks arranging different men to visit all, of whom were of the more dominant type until it dawned on me they were becoming really quite aggressive forcing me to suck them (which, as I said, I hated) and the sex was much more for their pleasure rather than mine not that it was bad but it was becoming more complex.

Now this is not a chronology so I can't remember who came before whom but after a while (several months I think) a black man appeared and I also had mild bondage session. The black guy was aggressive and being my first I felt intimidated by him as he was rather big however I had a very noisy climax with him as I did during the bondage session.

The upshot of this was my husband moving totally towards black men for me and openly asking them to tie me up and use me. I protested a little but since I did find the sex intense it wasn't unpleasant except I was with other me quite often and I would still have been happy just to be with my husband alone.

So here I was only eighteen months into my marriage having sex with one or two black men a week sometimes tied to the bed or dressed as a hooker and Mark refused to stop despite my suggesting it was all getting too extreme.

For my birthday he then arranged for two men to visit and I was taken by both of them in tandem which was actually something else but very debasing as they stayed for two nights using me as a sex object: The first man was very well hung and I felt his cock hitting places never hit before while the second was just a forceful man who had me legs over his shoulders.

Like I said I do love Mark and while I wanted the game to stop I have allowed them to continue and to grow as of course I enjoy the sex a great deal. It was on our second wedding anniversary that Mark arranged for us to go away but since I'd not gone a single week for the past eight months without stranger sex at least once I knew we'd still do something.

He dressed me in a tiny skirt, hold-ups etc. then got me to down a couple of drinks as he got ready after me. Now I remember little of the next hour except to say we went somewhere and I was introduced to three very big black men. I was nervous and a little worried as these guys were huge. Then when the sex began it all went wild. The men were hung like horses but more than this they were all at me at the same time then one by one they took me with their huge cocks and Mark took pictures.

I can't remember everything but I was left with the men on my own for the whole of the following day and by the time Mark picked me up over 30 hours later I was not only full of their cum I was stretched beyond anything I thought possible: One time I do remember was a guy pushing into me with his ebony cock stretching me so I could feel every crease of his manhood and as he went in and out I felt like my vagina wanted to remain stuck to his cock.

All the way home after this weekend I repeatedly told Mark that I refused to do it again yet he just ignored me and simply invited a man (big black and mean) over the very next weekend who with Mark's help tied me down then pounded me for hours. He bit my nipples and called me foul names as he fucked me and I felt so cheap I nearly cried, yet I came harder than I'd even done before as my body betrayed me.

After Mark exhausted his search for suitable men for me he began to invite three or four over regularly. It was actually quite embarrassing meeting men several times a month for sex especially as they became more and more dominant over me. Mark even lets them take me out and I know that a number of my work colleagues have seen me dressed for sex on the arm of a large black guy.

Eventually just over a year after I'd had sex with my first black Mark got me tattooed with a 'slut for black cock' motif above my sex. It's humiliating but I guess also a bit of a turn on at times. At some time (can't remember if it was before or after the tattoo) he got me to agree to have sex with a client of his from work and that was so nasty because after that Mark gave the guy open house. Since then whenever he is in the area he turns up and demands sex.

I am now a wreak, my sex is so open I can't even feel Mark when we make love but far from being upset he enjoys this and actually loves the fact that I'm being heavily used by a group of regular black lovers. My wardrobe had been reduced to a few work dresses and blouses but the rest is club/bedroom wear which is all Mark buys me now.

This sounds stupid but it is true, I have become a sex object for Mark to tout around, my friends give me strange looks, the neighbours know that I see black men all the time and even my doctor is aware as she's seen the tattoo and the state of my battered pussy. I'm the girl he says he will always love so why does he want me to be like this? I don't ever want to leave him and therefore feel unable to stop him doing this to me but I would love if it did.



Why



"Oh, so you want to know why? Well fine, here is the whole screwed up story!"

. . .

She got out of her car and I knew it was her. She matched her description to a 'T'. She was even a few minutes early, which is a serious plus in my book. Fashionably late might work for a party, but not a date.

"Hi!"

"Hi!" She said with just a touch of shyness. I smiled and held my arm out. She took it and we went into the club for dinner.

Blind dates are always risky, but Internet blind dates are the worst. You meet over a bunch of bits and bytes and try to establish a connection to the person at the other end of the network wire. It's not as easy as it looks. Sometimes you can smell a bullshit artist, but often you can't. Some of the clues include no picture posted, or all the pictures have the same background/outfit. An immediate call for sex, or sexual information, is also a dead give-away. I mean in this day-and-age, who is willing to jump into bed with someone they don't know? Only a lunatic, or someone already infected with various medical problems.

Of course there are other concerns when you enter chat rooms and Internet dating sites. Who knows if the person on the other end of the network cable is the person they are pretending to be. A friend of mine has a saying "Get drunk and be somebody!" She used it for people who seemed to need alcohol to unwind and develop a personality. I see the Internet as a way for too many people to 'be the person they always wanted to be." I mean if your life sucks, or even if it just seems to suck, you can create a whole new person on the 'net. You can change height, weight, hair, eyes, even gender. Although I will never understand why old men pretend to be young girls! What kind of thrill is that?

There are also problems with illegal hookups, as a local police department seems to know on a regular basis. I swear once a week another guy trying to connect with a minor, boy or girl, got sucked in on a sting operation. Really pathetic and I hope they enjoy their jail stay.

But like any medium of communication, it is possible for two people, who may have never chanced to met in any other way, to connect.

Her handle was TRINA, followed by a 5 digit number. The number was what first caught my eye. It matched a zip code very close to mine that is if it was a zip code, TRINA might be a neighbor. Now that was interesting. As I pulled up her profile, I thought about the possibilities. There were so many people in chat that sooner or later you would find somebody close to you. The odds might not favor it, but it could happen. Could she be someone I know from work or school? That would be a riot, but if she sounds familiar, should I talk to her? My own profile contained a picture of me, so if she recognizes me, she might back away. Is it important if anyone knows I wander the chat rooms of Yahoo? Naw, it's a hobby nothing more. The room we were both in was a regional room, not a sex room, so there is no worry about being here. Her profile came up and her number certainly was a zip code, from not very far away.

What was striking was the photograph! She wasn't young, but she was younger than me, maybe by 5 or 6 years, a blonde with a good smile. She had a face that spoke of experience, not a lifetime of beauty parlors and playing kissy-cheek with other women. She was gorgeous! But not is a conventional way, like the twenty-something girls try to create artificially. Her still photo spoke of a life of doing rather than watching. She had a light sunburn, and laugh crinkles around her eyes. A superb face! The rest of her profile supported my mental image; she liked activity rather than passivity. Liked motorcycles and movies, camping and even liked working. I bet her job is a physical one! Maybe a nurse, but not a schoolteacher! She looked good, and the profile sounded promising. I took the plunge and sent:

"HI"

After a minute, she responded "HI NEIGHBOR"

She looked at my profile! Good deal.

From that tenuous beginning, we chatted and found a connection. We liked many of the same things, but even here we didn't intersect, we would talk about our differences from an exploratory rather than picky point of view. The poor lass had never tried Guinness! Well someday perhaps! She did like Chili, but wasn't into super spicy, and she smoked occasionally. Well no one was perfect. But she enjoyed trading humorous stories and had a very pointed sense of humor. By the same token, I wasn't into motorcycles, even Harleys, so I guess I wouldn't be perfect in her book either.

Actually despite our differences, we did find comfort in chatting together a bit several times a week. I smiled just seeing her online and we got to know each other as well as you can online. We also traded phone numbers after while and spent several nights talking on the phone while we shared our day with each other. We were both moving in a slowly choreographed dance, that sooner or later we knew we would meet, but we weren't pushing each other. Things progressed over weeks and we did manage to find a good time and location between our two homes to meet. A small sports bar. Nothing too loud on a Thursday night, but it seemed a good place to start.

My heartbeat jumped as the red car pulled into the lot, it wasn't quite the red I had pictured, but when the blonde hair came out, I knew it was her. The picture certainly didn't do her justice. As she got out of her car, she moved like a dancer. Her work involved her hands and her head; she managed a bunch of blue collar metal workers. It could have made her coarse, but instead it brought out her intelligence. The physical part of her work kept her in good shape and it showed as she turned and her hair flew around in a tight circle. She looked around and our eyes met. She looked down and smiled even more sweetly than I could imagine. She didn't meet my eyes again until she got closer and I used our simple tagline that we used to start each chat room conversation, "Hi, gorgeous!"

She didn't give her usual reply, but when she took my arm I could feel the electricity. We got a small booth and proceeded to talk about nothing and everything. Some of the things we shared we hadn't mentioned online, other things were familiar. I learned so much more about her and so many personal things about her child, her past relationships. She learned about my wife and her passing, and my daughters. Halfway through dessert, we were both listening to the music coming from another part of the bar and she took my hand, then we kissed.

The kiss took just a second, or did it take an hour. I can't remember! I was surprised at feeling her lips on mine, but her taste was like nothing I had ever tasted. Without realizing it I opened my lips and her sharp tongue tasted me even deeper, but so quickly. Then she retreated shyly. After that, we stayed body to body in the booth, frequent short kisses and small caresses. We had some drinks, but we weren't drunk in any way. We had gotten very comfortable with each other and more secure in the idea of 'us'. 

She fit so nicely within the circle of my arm, and when she turned toward me, she was so easy to kiss. Her perfume was subtle, as was the shampoo scent of her hair. She laid her head on my shoulder and we sat there for a long while just enjoying the togetherness. It was an amazing night for me!

We left the club, hand in hand, and the plan was to go our separate ways, but neither of us were ready to be parted. Common sense took over and I escorted her to her car. As she got in it, she told me to get in. 

She pulled us just around the parking lot, toward the back and into the shadows. When she pulled me to her, I was shocked, but in a wonderful way. We were both thinking the same exact thing, but the question of place was a problem. We were both single parents and had kids and sitters at home. Well I had kids old enough to look after themselves, but I wasn't going to bring her to my home this late to spend the night.

In darkness of the parking lot, I felt her body for the first time. Her skin was smooth and so sensitive. No matter where I touched, it caused a small reaction in her. Her breasts felt heavy and her nipples so sensitive. Her jeans disappeared like magic and I tasted her like i was enjoying a fine vintage wine. She was delightful and delicious!

We made mad love in her car, parking brakes, small seats, cramped quarters not withstanding, we came together several times and by the time the club was closing found ourselves sated and dressed again. She kept my shirt, leaving me my tee-shirt. She also gave me her panties, telling me that if she ever saw them hanging on my rear view mirror she would never forgive me. We parted with one last kiss and an implied promise and I drove home with lightness in my heart that had been missing for a long time.

My daughters were still up, but after taking one look at me, they just smiled at me and left off the normal teasing questions and comments. I think they were happy for me and went off to bed with nothing more than a smile, a hug, and a kiss.

I couldn't sleep, so I turned on my computer and to my surprise found a message from her. In anticipation I opened it up and received the single biggest surprise of my life.

TRINA: "You SOB, I sat in that fucking parking lot for an hour and you couldn't have even called me! I hope you had a good laugh! I have never been so foolish as to fall for your online retarded games in my life. You are an ASSHOLE and I will not rest until everyone in the regional chat room knows it."

OMG, I met . . . who did I meet? 

And now you know why I don't do chat rooms anymore, because my name is fucking mud all over the Internet. You also now know why I spend every night sitting in my car at this little sports bar hoping to get a glimpse of a car that was not quite the right shade of red..



Why a Plump Woman Is Better



I am not embarrassed by this peculiarity, I will readily admit that I like women with a few extra pounds. Call them what you will: curvy, pleasantly plump, plus size, ample, plush, zaftig, whatever. I don't mean a super size woman, but one that's like the majority of women in America, just carrying a few extra pounds. Maybe 20, 30 or 40, even 50 pounds overweight, it could be more or less depending on the woman and how she carries herself. I've had this attraction for as long as I've had a sex drive, even my friends in high school would tease me about my preference for plump girls. I'm not sure when or how it started, it's just a part of me and I enjoy it. I'm not going to take this time to over-analyze why I like plump women, I'm just going to enjoy their ample charms. 

And I definitely do not mean a woman that deliberately overeats to gain weight. That's just as artificial as all those anorexic models that continually starve themselves to stay way too skinny, just the other way around. A naturally plump woman got that way by enjoying life, by not denying herself a slice of cheesecake. By taking joy in life and wanting to live it to the fullest. Such a woman will not only be plump, but also paradoxically more athletic. She will eat well and play hard. For her, plumpness will not be an end in itself, it will be an external indicator of her inner character and zest for life. Such a woman will have a unique inner beauty that will shine out through the medium of her personality. She might not be fashionable, but she will always be interesting, and often very exciting. Exciting in every way, not just sexually exciting. She will be intriguing, stimulating, fascinating, all these things and much more. She may show different facets of her personality at different times, as the mood strikes her, surprising any man she's with and sometimes even surprising herself. 

So, gentlemen, if you have the good fortune to make the acquaintance of a plump woman, don't deny her that ice cream or any other treat that she wants. Just enjoy her and accept her the way she is and you will harvest the generous rewards of such a relationship. Here's my list of:

Reasons Why a Plump Woman is Better...

(Given in no particular order.)

1. A plump woman has more curves. Let's face it, the classic image of a woman is curvy, and a plump woman fits that image perfectly. Take a look at one of the most desired women in history, Marilyn Monroe. She definitely wasn't a skinny waif. No indeed, she was a woman of some substance. Another recent example is Jennifer Lopez. Almost every guy I know appreciates her round bottom as a classic emblem of femininity. 

2. A plump woman has more cushioning. Who wants to hug a skeleton? A plump woman is softer to rest you head, or anything else, on. For examples, see above.

3. Another guy won't try to steal her away. The shallow guys who like thin women won't even pay attention, and the more discerning guys (the ones who appreciate women of ample charms) are usually discerning enough to not make the attempt.

4. A plump woman usually knows how to cook, and often very well. Even if she doesn't cook, she will still know the value of good food. It is possible that she will have the tastes of a gourmet. Actually this could be a disadvantage if you like cheap cheeseburgers and greasy fries. A plump companion can make every meal into an adventure.

5. A plump woman is usually more adventurous. A plump woman didn't get that way by not trying new and different things. A plump woman is more likely to try a new food / game / travel destination / activity / sexual position / etc. It should be easier to convince her to explore the world and her own sexuality. 

6. A plump woman is not into self-denial. If she wants something, she will find a way to get it. You may not have to learn to take a hint; she can easily become un-subtle about what she wants.

7. A plump woman will develop different skills to attract a man and keep his interest. Skinny women tend to rely on looks alone. A plump woman is more likely to be able to "suck a golf ball through a garden hose" or have other hidden talents. It's up to you to explore and exploit these talents.

8. A plump woman has a large appetite for life. (See numbers 5 and 6.) A large appetite at the table is likely to indicate a large appetite for other things, including in bed. The only difficulty is to keep up with her appetites. Maybe invest in some Viagra? 

9. A plump woman will tend to have very sensitive nipples. I don't care what anyone else says about skinny women having more sensitive nipples; every plump woman I have ever been with has enjoyed the attention that I have given to her nipples. Some even had an orgasm just by nipple stimulation, rare but it happens. And don't just confine your attentions to her nipples, enjoy the entirety of her breasts. 

10. A plump woman isn't afraid to ask you what you want. See number 6 above.

11. A plump woman isn't going to criticize your beer belly. 

12. A plump woman usually won't ask "does this make me look fat?" If so she will often accept the answer "Yes, and I love it." 

13. A plump woman will often be stronger and have more stamina than a skinny woman. This has several advantages. This also goes along with trying new positions in number 5 above. Some positions require a certain amount of strength to try, and stamina to hold. 

14. A plump woman usually won't complain that you're too heavy to be on top. Some even prefer the man on top. Just be sure to let her be on top sometimes.



Why a Rape and Impregnation fetish?



I've been writing and posting stories on Literotica for over two years and I often get people asking me how I got to have such an obsession with non-consent and forced/coerced impregnation. I always refer people to the sanitized and romanticized version of my true first time story "Milestones" and then I leave it at that. 

One of my online penpals, Teri, convinced me to clarify my story and maybe I'll post a revision of "Milestones" with the bad parts included. 

But I guess it's still good to explain that my first time was not at all romantic like I'd tried to make it in my story. I think the story was really how I wanted to remember it. 

If you haven't read "Milestones" yet then this would be the time for you to do so.

Did you read it? Good. Then let's continue.

I knew Richard was up to something when the room reservations were messed up. He never reserved more than one room in the first place and knew I was screwed if I didn't stay with him that night. Once we were in the room he swore we'd be fine sleeping together and promised me nothing would happen. I didn't bring any sexy nightie with me on the trip, just my sleep shirt. I changed in the bathroom and then went to bed while he used the bathroom next after turning off the lights. When he got into bed he was naked and I didn't know that until he cuddled up to me. 

I felt him nudge me and I freaked and jumped out of the bed. He lied and said he always slept "in the raw" (it creeps me out writing that down!) and promised to leave me alone. Once again I trusted him. 

We got into some kissing and I thought we'd be safe and then he pulled away from me for a second and put on a condom and said "just in case". I laughed and told him he'd wasted it. I let him get back into kissing me and he suddenly got on top of me and started pulling my panties off. We had a bit of a struggle and I never screamed. It never entered my mind that what was happening was really rape, to me it was just Richard being too excited. He grabbed my arms and put them over my head and held them with one arm as he took my panties the rest of the way off. I told him we couldn't do this and he kissed me and got on top of me. A few painful moments later I was no longer a virgin. 

He fell asleep not long after that and I was awake most of the night crying. The morning came and he woke me up with a whisker-studded kiss and the most ferocious case of bad breath ever. It was gross and not at all romantic. I just lay there and he got on me again and tried to get it in me and it was dry and I was very sore and told him so. He worked on it and very painfully mounted me. It did get a little better after a few minutes but it was still awful sore. Then I realized I hadn't seen him put on a condom and I asked him if he had one on already and he said no. I told him he had to stop and he said he would, but he didn't. When I tried to push him off it just turned him on even more and I ended up with a load of baby juice in me. That morning was so fucked up for me. After we left the room he was 100% a gentleman again and we ended up having a strained but nice day. That night he actually asked me if I wanted to do it again and I said, "You do whatever you want." That was actually Christie-talk for "no" and I did not say it in a sexy way. When he took it for a 'yes' I didn't care and just went along since the real damage had already been done at that point.

Then we went home and things got worse and here I am seven-thousand miles from home because of it. 

So here's the fetish: even though I detested Richard (and I still do) for what he did I got a perverse thrill wondering if I was pregnant from him and I fantasized about my rape and made it into something it really wasn't, but it helped me deal with it all. I DON'T want to be raped ever again, but I relive it over and over again in my dreams, fantasies, and stories. The stories have been therapeutic for me since they've been an outlet for me from my normal life and they've helped me work out my issues about all of this. 

The guy I had after Richard was shocked by what a cockhound I was and he was more than happy to oblige my need to explore. It wasn't rape with him, but I'd imagine it was sometimes and I had my best orgasms when I did that. 

So there you have it: I got twisted by being raped. I'm still fucked up but getting a grip on it all helps and it helps to write it all down, too. Now I will say that I am hopelessly stuck on non-consent and impregnation themes, but I do NOT want anyone to think any girl wants this to happen to her and I want anyone who is thinking about acting out this kind of fantasy to know that it is has real effects on the victims.

And there's the answer to my most frequently asked question. I'll keep writing stories, I'm sure, but thanks for tolerating a diary entry in the middle of my usual stuff.



Why a Stud Ranch For Women Won't Work



Heidi Fleiss has announced that she plans to found a brothel in one of the counties in Nevada where prostitution is legal. She says this will be special brothel: one staffed by males for female clients. According to an article published by CNN.com, Fleiss has said, "I am opening up a stud farm. I am going to have the sexiest men on earth. Women are going to love it."

I believe this venture and others like it are doomed to failure, American Gigolo fantasies to the contrary.

The one constant of the sex industry is the gender of those making up that market. Women or men may be prostitutes but men are customers. Attempts to find a sizeable female market for the services of sex workers are likely to collide with the laws of supply and demand.

Fleiss correctly notes, "Women make more money these days, they're calling the shots, they're more powerful." However, in a world in which women hold high offices, manage businesses, and perform surgery, and in which men change diapers, do laundry, and work the switchboard, the sex industry remains resistant to change. As Richard A. Posner notes in Sex and Reason, "Even in societies in which women are prosperous and independent (modern Scandinavia, for example), and therefore could easily afford to patronize prostitutes, there is no demand for prostitutes of either sex to service women." Why?

Here we come to the most basic, biologically based differences between the genders. However, to understand these core differences, we must first say what those differences are not to avoid falling into Victorian-style "men are such beasts," women are loving angels stereotypes.

Women are not naturally monogamous. The increasing rate of infidelity amongst wives, catching up to and in some age groups surpassing that of husbands, demonstrates that women enjoy sexual variety. Studies showing a surprisingly high rate of babies born in wedlock are not fathered by husbands also support this point.

Contrary to sexist myth, women can separate sexual enjoyment from emotional involvement. After all, masturbation is the easiest way for either sex to reach orgasm and especially so for women. Moreover, items such as dildos, vibrators, and ben-wa balls are sold to females. Clearly, women can and do enjoy mechanical sex -- indeed they even pay for it -- with machines.

But women do not, in appreciable numbers, pay for sex with people. To explain this persistent fact, we come to two of the deepest differences between men and women.

For women, there is a biologically based cost to introducing another person's body into one's sexual pleasure: pregnancy. Furthermore, the cost of partnered sex may be built into the female brain, causing that well-known psychic letdown women experience when sex is followed by nothing. As evolutionary psychologist Robert Wright says (The New Republic, 11/28/94), "When a woman has sex under a man's pretenses of affection (Darwinian translation: pretenses of commitment to ensuing offspring) and then he never calls again, the evolutionary source of her anguish is the same as for the anguish following rape: she has had sex with a man she (unconsciously) deemed unworthy of her eggs, even though in this case the deeming was done after the fact, once evidence of his unworthiness surfaced."

None of this means that women will not engage in causal, partnered sex or even seek it out. It just means they will not pay for it because there is a "payment" built into the act itself. 

A second factor that ensures women will never, in large numbers, patronize sex professionals is that female sexuality is heavily tied to feeling attractive. While men also like their partners to view them as attractive, their enjoyment does not depend on being so flattered. Fleiss believes she has a potential market from "the situation with the old husband leaving his wife for the younger girl and the lady sitting at home crying. Well, now she has a place to go and say, 'Right back at you, buddy, and on your credit card." The problem is that the woman is crying partly because the man's desertion makes her feel unlovely and she cannot feel irresistible if she pays. 

Finally, the fact that women get pregnant could make work at a "stud farm" peculiarly high risk. Female customers could sue hustlers for child support. A man-for-hire could end up earning much less from his work than he pays out because of its consequences.

*

This column builds on points made by a previous one that was published in Intercourse.



Why Angels Hate Humanity



The world is a mad place, folks. Seriously. Sometimes I think it would be a good thing if the planet Earth were destroyed. Then I stop to think about what a colossal waste that would be. Because the world doesn't belong solely to the human race. There are countless animals and plants that thrive here too. Don't these life-forms have a right to live? I think so. That's why I've decided to spare the planet and only kill the human race. God's special little creature faces extinction. And since God left Heaven to embrace the Void, time is running out for the human species.

My name is Azrael. Does the name ring a bell? Of course not. In all likelihood you're human and thus limited in intelligence. You don't know who has the true power in the universe these days. Let me clarify things for you. The Archangel of Death. And I will bring about the end of you and everything you know. It's my sacred duty as decreed by the Princes of Heaven. And I want you to know that I do it happily. It's been a long time coming.

Anyone looking at me would see a six-foot-three, lean and muscular man in his early thirties with light brown skin, curly black hair and pale gray eyes. Clad in a black leather jacket over a red silk shirt, black jeans and black boots. That's how I chose to appear when I descended upon the world. Angels are immortal spiritual beings. We can look like anyone, man or woman, black or white. We're not flesh and blood, but spirit. That's what we were in the beginning and that's the way we will always be.

Standing beside me are the Angels Yael and Mael. The first one has the appearance of a thirty-something Caucasian male, standing around six feet four inches tall, broad-shouldered and muscular, with long red hair and pale blue eyes. The second is a twenty-something Asian woman, standing six feet tall, slim, with light bronze skin, pale green eyes and long black hair. Like me, they wear black leather jackets, crimson shirts and black pants. For you see we are not Messenger Angels. We are the Mazzikim, the Angels of Destruction. Sent by the Archangel Metatron, Viceroy of Heaven, to wipe mankind from the face of the planet Earth.

I can't tell you how much I relish this duty. I've been aching to do it for the past ten thousand years, but the Lord in Heaven told me not to. And not even the most powerful Angel in the Kingdom of Heaven will disobey our Father. I don't understand what the Lord sees in these creatures. The humans are a pitiful bunch. Limited in intelligence, limited in knowledge and limited in lifespan. Yet He lavished His love upon them. Many Angels in Heaven think He lost His marbles to care so much about these talking apes but we held our tongues. For you see, where I come from, anyone who questions the Boss gets a one-way ticket out of the Kingdom. It doesn't matter if you're a powerful Archangel or a lowly Guardian Angel. You are out of there. Forever. No second chances. Sounds harsh, right? Welcome to the life of an Angel.

Does it surprise you pathetic humans that we Angels hate your guts with a fiery passion? It really shouldn't. We've been told to look after you for tens of thousands of years. Protecting you from yourselves while you made a fine mess of the planet Earth which the Lord so kindly gave you. No Angel has a private place to call his own. We don't own property. We don't own anything. We can't have anything. Our entire existence revolves around serving the Lord. All of His love and all of His attention He gives to the men and women of the human species. He couldn't care less about the loyalty and love we Angels feel for Him. He cares more about the lowliest of humans and the most wretched of human souls than he does about the most loyal of Angels. 

Well, I got news for you, dear men and women of the world. God is gone. He left the Kingdom of Heaven. He left Creation itself and embraced the Void, the place outside of the Universe. Where time and space have no meaning. He might as well be dead. No one comes back from the Void. The Void is beyond the stars and the galaxies. Beyond the comets, the meteors and the asteroids. Beyond the clusters in which the galaxies are contained. Beyond existence itself. And guess what? If He's over there, then He won't be around to protect you people. Which mean we're going to get rid of the whole lot of you pathetic humans once and for all. 

Ah, I can't wait. Looking around, I breathed the air. The planet Earth has changed since my last official visit. I remember standing in the middle of the ruins of a city where thousands of men and women lay dead. It was during the American Civil War. Humans slaughtering each other over questions of race, and freedom. For centuries, skin pigmentation determined whether a person was truly human, or a beast of burden. White was in style and black wasn't. For this, countless humans died. Killing each other because of skin color, eye color and hair color. Senseless slaughter. I really think my Father lost His mind when he bestowed so many gifts upon the talking monkeys of the human species. They don't deserve half of what He's given them.

Walking beside me, Mael points an unusual sight to me. Something which surprises him. A tall black man walking around holding hands with a blonde-haired white woman. He isn't in shackles and she isn't holding a leash. Apparently, they're not master and slave but rather, a couple. Wow. Things have really changed since I last set foot on the planet Earth. Black people were slaves. Women of any race couldn't vote. And the human race didn't have computers, cell phones, helicopters, airplanes and all those other modern wonders. Yael marvels at an airplane flying overhead, and she smiles for the first time in a millennium. Wow. I was almost impressed.

I pick up a newspaper, and read about the nation's first black president signing a law in favor of stem cell research. America has a black president? Wow. I never thought I'd live long enough to see that happen, and I am immortal. Has mankind changed? Have humans lost a bit of their bigotry, prejudice and misanthropy? I dare not hope. For hope is the cruelest of all things. Next to woman, that is. Of course, as I looked into the world of the humans, I saw that not much had changed. Men and women of all races were still playing their power games. Father against mother. Sister against brother. Parent against offspring. Friend against friend. Countryman against foreigner. Kingdom against kingdom. Woman against man. White against black. Rich against poor. That's the way things always were. And that's the way things always will be. Unless someone changes things. I will. I will put an end to racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia and misandry ( hatred of men ) by wiping out all humans. That's my way of ensuring World Peace.

My fellow Angels and I head to the city of Boston, Massachusetts. It's one of the oldest cities in the United States of America. It's also where a husband-and-wife team of scientists are working on a cure for cancer. In spite of their technical knowledge, the humans are still dreadfully primitive. Every Angel knows all the secrets of Mother Nature. What heals and what kills. And we would never tell any of it to the humans. Invisible to the human eye as well as to cameras and all electronic security devices, Yael, Mael and I enter the halls of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. We head to the offices of Dr. Alexander Hartford and Dr. Alicia Brown Hartford. Right next to the Cancer Research Institute.

In the lab, the doctors and their teams are busy little bees. Too busy to pay attention to their dogs, Marquis and Lucky, as the lovable mutts start barking. You see, animals can see Angels and Demons. Nothing we can do about it. Humans can't. The dogs see us and sense our intent. They start barking. The humans tell them harshly to be quiet. I smile, as do Yael and Mael. We make our way to the vials containing a very special viral agent. Someday, it might cure Cancer. If only the humans knew what to add to it in order to strengthen its efficiency. In its current state, it won't do more than slow the disease down, not kill it. I smile, and add something to it. The essence of a bacteria found deep below the earth. Where no human has ever been. It mixes with the viral agent, and a new virus is born. I let the vial fall to the floor. 

Immediately, the humans turn around. They see the vial on the floor but can't figure out how it got there. One of them kneels and picks it up. She cuts herself on the broken glass. Painful mistake. Two minutes later, she's writhing on the floor, screaming her lungs out as her body convulses. She bleeds from the mouth, the nostrils and the eyes. Her friends order the lab on lockdown and try to help her. To no avail. The virus is airborne, and it's left the building.

Thirty minutes later, thousands of men and women across the MIT campus fall dead. The police place the campus under quarantine. The state's first black governor speaks on TV to reassure the panicked populace. To no avail. Across Boston, humans are dying. The males and the females. The pretty ones. The ugly ones. The skinny ones. The chubby ones. The rich ones. The poor ones. The gays. The lesbians. The straight people. The bisexuals. The transsexuals. The blacks. The whites. The Asians. The Hispanics. The Middle-Easterners. The biracial people. The virus spreads beyond the city, and within six hours, it has killed eighty percent of the human population of Massachusetts. The rest of New England falls eighteen hours later. The next day, the United States of America has fallen. Over three hundred million people, all dead. 

Three days later, all human beings on the planet Earth have died. As for the men and women on the space station orbiting the planet, they will die a slow, painful death as they are starved of oxygen, food and water. My fellow Angels and I return to the Kingdom of Heaven. Victory is ours. Across the universe, Angels rejoice. For humanity is dead. The Lord is gone. And we are free at last. Free to make our own destinies. Free to live. Free to be whatever we want to be. We're immortal, and have been around since before the dawn of time. Yet this is the first time any of us has ever felt happiness. At last. 



Why Are Black Women So Rude?



Sometimes, I think living in the city of Brockton must be a curse. Yeah, that must be it. In a past life, I must have done something horrible. How else could you explain the kind of person I seem to attract? The meanest guys and the cruelest of women. The very worst humanity has to offer. I can't stand any of them. Sometimes at night, I pray that God or the Devil, whichever one is listening would send a flood to wipe out the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. Seriously, the world is a better place without it.

I have met all kinds of strange characters in my time. Hell, I am a strange character myself. Friends and fans call me Brother Samuel, America's favorite big and tall, forthrightly bisexual black male adventurer. For a long time, collegiate America was my favorite dwelling place. I loved college. Unfortunately, I had to graduate. And graduate I did, with honors no less. However, I can't say that I am exactly thrilled with the fact that I am now living in a small town packed with rude men and even ruder women. Say what you will about me, I've got manners.  My father and mother didn't raise a barbarian. A pervert, certainly. A shameless flirt, totally. A defiant man who takes society by storm, absolutely. But I'm no rude roughneck or thug. No folks. I have class.

What is class? It's kind of hard to define. However, when someone doesn't have it, it's fairly easy to tell. The classless man and classless woman tend to make their classlessness obvious through their words or actions. When on the subway, I've noticed women who blurt out every detail of their personal lives while talking on their cell phones with someone. That is very unattractive. We don't need to know everything you've done and everyone you've hooked up with. We could care less about the fact that your boyfriend is sleeping with your best friend or sister. We don't give a damn about your progeny or the fact that his or her sire hasn't provided financial support this month. It's your life. It's your business. Keep your bullshit to yourself.

As much as it shames me to say it, some of the rudest people I've ever encountered were black men and black women.  On the bus, the train, and on the street. At the mall, the barber shop and at the movie theater. It's always the black woman who's making a lot of noise, attraction attention to herself for all the wrong reasons. And the black man is usually an eager co-conspirator, helping her make as much noise as possible. Such individuals are a painful embarrassment to the entire race.  I know I'm going to catch hell for this but someone's got to say it. Black women are rude. Black men are rude. And they're not going to change. As a college-educated black man who's written and published quite a few books, they embarrass me. I live in a nice townhouse in Brockton's affluent West Side. Not far from the local high school.  The public library carries my books. Men and women from all over the place have read my works. I have fan clubs online. I'm also a well-known community activist whose humanitarian works focus on Men's Issues such as Male Victims of Domestic Abuse, Gay and Bisexual Rights, Urban Life and so on.  By all means, I'm an accomplished individual. Not bragging, just the truth.

A while ago, I walked into a department store located deep in Brockton's South Side, near East Bridgewater.  A light-skinned black male security guard asked me to remove my backpack while entering the store. He claimed the store had a policy against people backpacks on the premises. He didn't say anything of the sort to the white woman who walked in with her son, both of them with backpacks and large shopping bags. I realized that this security guard was enforcing a racially prejudiced policy. Racial profiling, that's what it was.  I walked out of the store with my backpack on and my head held high. I wasn't going to allow these people to disrespect me. Not after my many accomplishments.  Not after all I've done and all that I am. I know I was better than this. And I deserved better than the shabby treatment I received at that store. I haven't been anywhere near this store since.

Black men and black women from all over the place have had similar experiences in bookstores, grocery stores, shopping malls, airports, movie theaters, restaurants and bus stations.  They have gotten used to being racially profiled. And  I can tell you with one hundred percent conviction that I know how they feel. Racial profiling is wrong. However, why do so many black men and black women try their hardest to be the loudest, meanest, rudest and most unruly people anywhere they happen to go? I've seen lots of white folks acting rude and loud. Yes, obnoxious white men and rude white women exist. Once, a white woman cut right in front of me in a line at a food court in Boston.  And she showed no shame or remorse for her actions. She did it with a sense of entitlement. Being white and female grants her this right in America.  Rude people are a subhuman category which I absolutely cannot stand.  I don't care if they're male or female, black or white, straight or gay. I can't stand them.

When did manners go out of style in America? When did men and women decide that forsaking all civilized ways and acting like crazed animals was the way to be? Who is responsible for this alarming trend? MTV? Misguided feminism? The dearth of family values due to the breakdown of the American family? Liberalism gone amok? The eternal shadow of the racial and gender politics dogwatch? I don't know, folks. Your guess is as good as mine on this one. 

I thought I shared my city with men and women of varying races, sexual orientations, religions and backgrounds, not human-shaped and human-seeming crazed bloodthirsty beasts.  Even more disturbing to me is the fact that while all races, backgrounds and cultures contribute to the problem of classlessness and rudeness in America, black people seem to do more than their share.  White men and white women act rude. As do Asian men and Asian women. Hispanic men and Hispanic women. Middle-Eastern men and Middle-Eastern women. However, black men and black women glorify rudeness. They're proud of their rude behavior. They call themselves  dogs and bitches like they're badges of honor. When I see their behavior, I'm ashamed for them. 

You see, I hail from the Island Nation of Haiti. The first sovereign black nation in the New World. Since 1804, we've been independent. We're a country filled with great upheavals. We've got economic and social problems we're working desperately to solve.  However, we're doing better than Americans in many ways. The Haitian man respects the Haitian woman. And the Haitian woman respects the Haitian man. The Haitian family is a sacred unit. Father and mother, son and daughter, grandfather and grandmother, those are sacred titles. So it is today and so it was when I was growing up. Respect for self and for country, that's what is taught to young Haitian men and young Haitian women.  Self-worth as a human being, that's what fills our hearts.

We've always had equality. Women in Haiti have always been able to vote. And as a people, we see ourselves as human beings first, rather than to define ourselves by skin color alone, unlike our extremely distant and decidedly inferior cousins the African-Americans. Everything is about race and gender for these people.  Why can't the African-Americans see the light? Even though African-Americans in America outnumber us Haitians, we still send more of our sons and daughters to college than they do. Percentage wise, we're pulling ahead of them. Many Haitian men and Haitian women living in America are college-educated, own their homes and run their own businesses.  We struggle to keep our family units and our way of life viable.  African-Americans couldn't give a damn about family.

The African-American male wants to play sports, or sell drugs, or be a rapper, make lots of money and sleep with lots of women. The African-American female wants to make lots of money and have lots of power. And she wants to step on the head of the African-American male first and foremost to achieve her ambitions.  That's why she traps the already irresponsible African-American male with her myriad pregnancies. He can't take care of himself. How can he take care of her and their progeny? She should know better than to have offspring without a means to support them. Welfare isn't supposed to be a permanent support system. When will African-Americans stop using it as such?

If the African-American male or African-American female wants to succeed, here's what they need to do. Stay in school. Ignore relatives who cause drama. Don't do drugs. Don't catch sexually transmitted diseases through unprotected sex with unsafe partners. Don't sleep around.  Keep your anger in check when dealing with the arrogant men and rude women you're sure to encounter in your neighborhood, household, workplace or place of entertainment. Don't become a parent before your time. Don't get into fistfights with bad men and bad women who couldn't care less about winding up in prison. They've already got a criminal record. Don't get into fights with them and wind up with a criminal record.  Avoid the psycho men and psycho women of the so-called hood. Stop listening to stupid music. Now!

Graduate from high school and enroll in college. It doesn't matter if it's a community college, a state school or a private college or university. Get yourself in there. Work hard.  If you're a black man, be careful. You don't want to wind up falsely accused of anything from sexual harassment or assault by some woman, black or white, who hates you for being what you are. Beware of man-hating feminist professors. They hate black males most of all. Work twice as hard as the white guys and white chicks you see in your classes. Your life is harder than theirs.  Don't make things easy for them by not succeeding. Get your associate's degree.  Start working and make some money. Come back to school and get your bachelors degree.

While you're in college, heading to college or graduating from college, don't get involved with strange women. You don't need a psycho with a jealous streak who acts like you're her property. You also don't need a false accuser. Avoid weird women. Get yourself some porn and take matters into your own hands if you have to. While you're working to improve your future, women aren't to be trusted because they hate men. Most of them anyway. Many men will hate you for wanting to improve your life since they can't do it themselves. Don't trust them either. Don't associate with violent guys, drug dealers, sexual psychos or weirdoes. Keep to yourself. Study. Work hard. Avoid psycho guys and psycho women. Get that piece of paper. Graduate and hit the work force. Don't worry about black women. Being female affords them a degree of protection you will never have since you're a male. Society protects females but treat men like dirt. Men have to protect themselves.  Protecting women went out of style since the 1960s. Most of them don't give a damn about men. And they're not shy about saying it. Protect your health. Protect your freedom. Protect your finances. Protect your heart. Trust no one.

Life as a black male isn't easy. Cops hate you and they're dying to use any excuse to kill you. It's always open season on black males. It doesn't matter if you're a thug or a law-abiding, hard-working professional with a degree. They see us as all the same. Don't make things easier for them by being the kind of fool who deals drugs, gets into fights over pride, anger or women. Drugs aren't worth fighting for. Pride isn't worth fighting for. Women are definitely not worth fighting for. You should only fight to save your own life and that's only when there's zero other options. Running away is an option. Take it when you can. Get over the macho pride crap. Live to fight another day.  There are haters out there. Men and women who don't want to see you being happy. They don't want to see you succeed. They don't want you to amount to anything. Haters can be your father or mother, brother or sister, girlfriend or boyfriend. Don't listen to them. Don't let them know your plans. Protect your ambition. Protect your interests. Protect yourself. Ignore the haters and get away from them as fast as you can.  Good luck. 



Why Are Men So Stupid?



Author's Notes:

This little story is from me reading the entire line bovine excrement put out by men who say stupid things like "Once a whore, always a whore!" or "All sluts are the same and all women are sluts." ETC, ETC, ETC.... 

While women are gaining in the cheaters stakes, thus increasing the amount of divorces churning through the court system. They are still lagging way behind the men. The ones that I really find funny are the men who have a wife and a few fuck buddies on the side, but gets all butt hurt when their wife says "Fuck this shit!" and goes out to find some satisfaction for herself, because hubby just isn't getting it done because he's too tired from fucking his other girlfriends.

His usual excuse is that he's a man and needs to sow his oats. But, if the woman does the same thing, "She's just a fucking slut, whore, cunt, bitch... 'Insert you favorite derogatory remark' and needs to be burned at the stake." I mean if you're a real man, you'll go all Jackie Chan on the other mans ass, burn the bitch to the ground, and thump your chest as you go find the sexiest bitch you can find and knock her up, because you're the MAN!

Oh please...!

So, this story, like it or not, is semi-biographical, and used with permission. The names have been changed to protect the guilty and my own ass from a slander suit. Because yes, there is some malice involved.

Not mine of course. Because the third time around the track, I found a winner and we have been together happily for 22 years now. And to be honest, I don't care if my two exes are still lying, cheating, backstabbing, slutty cunts. Their not my problem, and to be truthful, I wish them no ill will. I hope they found happiness. I know I sure did. So, anyway, here is the story of a real loving wife, a bunch of assholes, and the truth about if a slut, whore, or prostitute can become a good housewife.

Enjoy. 





Why Are Men So Stupid?

In a bright fluorescently lit I sat still just barely dressed, writing at an old scared desk. All the men and a few of the women's eyes would travel to me automatically, taking in my lush sexy form. I still have light reddish brown hair, full breasts that are tipped with stiff, plump nipples, that were hardly contained by the rich burgundy silk teddy I was still wearing. My hips filled the almost padded chair and my sculpted legs made some of the more ardent observers wonder about where they were joined. Everyone in the room know who I am and think about how lucky my husband had to be, to have someone like me in his bed every night. Now they knew why he's always in a good mood when he came to work. I make sure of it.

Oblivious to my surroundings, I sitting in the uncomfortable chair, I was pensively trying to gather my thoughts to do what I needed to do. 'Shit, I knew Susan was going to make me write this all down. I hope my kids never read this, because they will learn things about mommy that just might shock them. Damn, I wish they'd turn up the frigging heater.' I try and ignore the chill. 

These teddies might look hot as hell, but in reality, they are thinner than paper and the slightest breeze will make the bunny noses poke out. But then again, I think that might just be the point. Biting the bullet, I'll try and get this done.

Okay, I know I'm not making much sense, but I'm trying to pull it all together. Going back almost twenty years to remember some of this stuff isn't going to be fun, but necessary I guess. I think the first questions I need to deal with were the hardest. 

How did I ever become a whore or prostitute? Was I really one in the first place? Is what I did all those years ago really that wrong?

Yes, once upon a time, I was paid at a place because of my good looks and sexy body. Yes, sex was involved. To be truthful, I was very good at it. Hell, I was a horny young adult, and found out I could make more money in one night of having fun, than working two weeks at "Bob's Biker Bar," with tips. 

And yes, my tips were good. But, my feet would be killing me, along with my back, boobs and ass from all the meaty hands grabbing them to earn said tips.

Okay, I guess I have to go back a little farther. I just graduated high school, when I got my acceptance letter from a decent college, but only with a partial scholarship. This of course, was the same day my dad came home and told mom and I that he was moving out to live with his sexretary... err secretary. 

So started the summer of the big fight, or divorce or whatever you want to call it. Was it a fight and a Divorce broke out? Anyway, good ole dad baled, and left mom and I basically broke just as I was supposed to start school.

I was lucky I guess. I was good looking enough to get a job at Bob's Bar, but I almost flunked out of school, trying to pay for school. 

Then it happened. One of the other girls at Bob's, asked me if I wanted to make some extra money from a bunch of wealthy want-to-be bikers. "What would I have to do?" I asked instantly.

"Fuck their brains out and act like some mean biker bitch. They get off on it, then go home to wifey-poo and deal with the daily grind of their lives." Debbie shrugged it off. "They're clean, and the money's good and comes in handy."

"Damn, I haven't been laid in months. I don't know if it still works." I laughed, thinking it was a joke.

"Shit girl, grab a tube of lube, a spermicidal douche, and a box of he-man rubbers and you're set. I'll let you borrow a leather halter until you can get one, and wear you tightest black jeans and boots. They put their money in a big jar and we split it when they leave."

"You're not joking!" I gasped.

"Fuck no. I know you need the money. I also know you don't want to end up like Lucy, an old biker bitch, trying to get a man. So, what do you think?" She tossed her long hair like good looking girls do.

What did I think? I thought that I needed to pay rent, buy five hundred dollars of books for the next semester, and I didn't have the money to do it. I thought what the hell. I need the money and needed laid, so it might just work.

I made over two thousand dollars on my fist night and I didn't have to fuck anyone unless I really wanted to. Hell, most of the guys there I would've fucked for free anyway. Some of them knew what they were doing, so I got off too. What a deal. I got to have a ton of fun, got laid, and got paid for it too. Yeah, I could do this. It beats the hell out of being on my feet all night serving warm beer to a bunch of old bikers while they maul my tits and ass.

So what, if I had to shower all the sperm off my tits and face. I mean one guy flopped his pecker on the bar stool and I tried to step over it with my hooker boots. I missed and found part of his nut sack. He screamed, shot his wad halfway across the room and gave me a two hundred dollar tip. As a matter of fact the harder I made them work for it, the more money I made. By the nights end, they would be drained dry and happy, and I would be able to pay my rent, buy some decent clothes and still afford my books.

Within a month, I had quit Bob's and worked two weekends a month at the 'Dog and Pony Club'. I brought home over five thousand dollars a month but only had to claim like two for taxes. I had all the time I needed to study and never had to worry about getting laid. I was living the dream. 

I never did what I didn't want to do. So no forced anal, or air tights, unless I was in the mood for forced anal or being made air tight. Hey, I was young and horny, so yeah, I had a lot of sex. No more or less than most of the girls I knew on campus. The only difference was I got paid and paid well, for having fun.

Like all dreams, it had to end. Fortunately for me, I had enough in the bank to make ends meet when it did. But in my senior year, when I went from almost flunking out as a freshman to honors list as a senior, I was approached by this girl I had seen from time to time around campus. Her name was Susan.

"Hey Kris, can I talk to you?" She walked up and sat down in front of me.

"What's up?" I asked, closing my book on business math.

"I need to talk to you about that club you work at." She looked around to make sure our conversation was private.

"What about it?" Hell, as far as I knew I wasn't doing anything wrong.

"They are under investigation for prostitution, money laundering and other things. I know you work there, but I don't know if you're one of the working girls there." She tilted her head and watched my eyes.

"Okay, if you implying what I think you are... then no. I don't sell my body for money. Yes, I make money from my body, but I don't sell sex, walk the street, or proposition the men to pay me to have sex. And, before you ask, yes I've had sex there, but I get paid out of the tip jar at the end of the night, and it's not for the sex."

"I hate to tell you, but that still considered prostitution." Susan kept looking at me, expecting me to flinch.

"I don't think so, but I'm not going to argue with you about it. Yes, I have sex, a lot of sex. Yes, I dance, yes, I get naked, and yes, I have fun, a lot of fun. But, I am private entertainment for a private club. I'm STD clean and protection is always used. I don't tell them prices for sex acts, it just happens or not, depending on the mood. I'm never forced and I'm not doing anything that I wouldn't do for free in a similar situation. Now, can we stop doing this word dance and get down to it? I have a test in my next class that I can't mess up."

"Wow, talk about walking a fine line." Susan shook her head in disbelief. "Unfortunately for you, the DA will not see it that way." She held up her hand stopping my reply. "And once the charge of solicitation is on your record, it will never come off, even if you get the case dismissed or a not guilty verdict. It will be on your record that you are a prostitute. Is that what you are trying so hard to achieve?"

"Why are you telling me this?" I was shocked. Until then, I never considered myself a whore, but if what Susan was saying was true, I might have to rethink my options.

"Because, I've checked you out. I know about your mom's divorce, the money issues, and how you tried everything else to pay for school before you ended up working at the club. I will never fault someone trying to better their life, but... The club is going to be raided this weekend, if you are there or not. Then I will find out if you are innocent or in collusion with the club owner."

"You bitch!" I hissed at her. "I either get labeled a whore, or a snitch, just because I'm paying my own way through school. Why don't you go fuck yourself?" Oh yeah, I was instantly pissed and on the attack. 

"Why don't you stand up and get the fuck away from me, before I put it out that you are a snitch cop, that's out to fuck people over? Just get the fuck away for me before I kick your ass... and yes I know I could do it so don't fucking try me!" I gathered my stuff and got up to leave, when she made the mistake of grabbing my arm.

"I wouldn't...." Was all she got out, before she was on her ass and my foot on her throat.

"POLICE, FREEZE!" Was shouted at me by a bunch of goons running up.

"Fuck you, arrest her for assault." I shouted back at them. "She grabbed me after I told her several times to leave me alone." I threw Susan's arm down and stepped back. "Trust me I might not be a lawyer, but I have taken enough legal classes to eat you alive in court. Your call asshole!" I put my hand on my hips.

"It's okay, she warned me, and I didn't listen." Susan had a look of respect as she got off her ass and talked to the cops. "She'd win and we all know it. I never identified myself." She reached into her shirt and pulled a wire out between her tits and pushed a button on the box it was connected to.

"You know that recording is entrapment!" I pointed at the device. "No matter how fucked up this country is, I still have some rights."

"We need to go in and talk about this." Susan tried to calm me down.

"No, you need to go fuck off, and I need to get to my class. So, either arrest me so I can have all your badges on my wall, or get the fuck out of my way. I'm done with you. You fucked up, and you're not turning it around on me." I pulled out my cell phone and hit end. "That went to my inbox and my answering machine. So, now you know I have a copy for my complaint."

"Shit, this is getting out of hand." Susan huffed. "Please, let me talk to you." She tried again.

"Since you know so much about me, you can find me after class today. But, until then, stay the fuck away from me!" I walked off not listening to them mutter to themselves.

I was useless in class. I bombed the quiz and asked my teacher for a makeup, because of a personal issue. He said it wouldn't harm my grade that bad so I was screwed. All because of some bitch campus cop was trying to bust my bubble. So, of course she was the first person I saw trying to get to the bus home.

"Look, I'm sorry if I came of the bitch, but the job makes us jaded." She put her hands out in front of her apologetically. "Let m try again. Hello, I'm Officer Susan Wright of the local Police Department. We are trying to close down the prostitution and money laundering operation run by Joseph Castillo, a known person of interest, if you know what I mean."

"What, no more strong-arm threats?" I sneered.

"I'm just doing my job...." She tried to say.

"Some job, when you go out to ruin innocent people's lives. Your momma must be proud." I snapped.

"Does your mom know what you do for a living?" Susan bit back.

"Yeah, she knows I work my ass off to put myself through school. She's grateful for the extra I send home so she doesn't lose the house and her whole life. I dare you to make that into something bad" I stepped forward.

"Even if what you're doing is illegal...?"

"That's total bullshit and you know it." I stopped her again. "Being a hostess for a club is not illegal, and that is what I get paid for. What I do for tips is my own business as long as I'm not selling it, and I don't. Sex isn't illegal, or you'd have to go arrest ninety percent of the population, because sex is everywhere and yes, they are selling it! Don't point fingers when you were illegally trying to entrap me into a confession. Laws work both ways or it's no longer law but a police state and we haven't degraded that far yet!" I was on a roll.

"Damn, I hope you never become a Public Defender. You'd kick our ass in court. I thought you were a business major, not pre-law." Susan chuckled.

"What I'm not, is stupid." I huffed. "So, what do you want from me? What is it going to take to get you off my ass?" I was getting tired of it.

"We want your help...." She started saying before I laughed.

"So, we're back to the whore or snitch option? I don't think so. I won't help, but I won't get in your way. Push me any farther, and I'll be on the campus news, blabbing away before you can get the warrant to shut me up. I will not be blackmailed by you or anyone else!" I told her point blank.

"God Damn It! I'm trying to help you!" She swore at me. "We have a guy on the inside and we know what you have done...."

"If he thinks he can make me say I charged him for sex, good fucking luck. So, we're now back to, charge me or get the fuck out of my way!" Didn't this bitch get it? I won't be threatened by anyone. Not after what I've had to do to make ends meet. "And, if he's had sex with me to try and prove the prostitution charge, it's still entrapment and I'll have his and your ass on a platter!"

"Look, I know you're not stupid, but I also know you know the name of the owner of the club and what he's into. You know things like loan-sharking, coercion, fraud...."

"I know the name, but the only person who is trying to coerce me is you. Let me fill you in on some fact about the club." I pointed to a bench and waited for her to plant her ass on it.

"One, I am not forced into anything. I can say no at any time, and they have to listen. Two, I don't charge for what I'm doing. As far as I know it is a private club that members pay to get into and consenting adults do adult things. Three, I earn more tips by saying no than saying yes. So basically, I get paid not to have sex! The men want to work at it to prove their manhood. So in fact, I get paid to say no! Four, everyone has a good time and no one is getting hurt. What the owner does or doesn't do is none of my business. You say you're going to raid the place. Then I wish you good luck. Because, you're going to have a hell of a time proving your case. Will I be there to get raided? Hell no! But, we already knew that. Am I going to warn them and get tagged by the cops as a snitch? That's not happening either. So, you can either charge me right here and right now, or get the hell out of my face. I am a law abiding citizen of this state who pays her taxes that pays your salary and you are harassing me. So, are we done yet?"

"Yeah, we're done." Susan sighed and walked away.



Now, we know that isn't the last I heard of it. Because Susan is now my best friend and we were at each other's weddings. In the wedding parties as a matter of fact, but that is how I quit my job, stopped doing what I was doing, and finished school.

As for the raid, it went just about as I expected. Yes, I was subpoenaed to testify, but it didn't help the prosecution any. The defense lawyer loved me though. Yes, there were a few divorces out of the deal. But, when it was all said and done. No one was really doing anything they could call illegal, since the courts have made infidelity legal, with their no-fault divorce system.

I was sitting in a bar after my second day of testimony when Susan walked up and said. "I told them not to call you, I really did, but they refused to listen. They swore they could turn you." She sat one stool down.

"Yeah, well I do owe you for the warning." I sighed. "Have a seat and let me buy you a drink." I ordered a wine cooler for me and coffee for my cop acquaintance.

"Are you still hostessing?" Susan asked quietly.

"Nope, that job was fun, but I'm trying to get a job that works nine to five like the rest of the working world. Are you still entrapping innocent people?" I lifted my eye brow.

"Nope, I've moved over to patrol. The stink you caused that day in the student's square made it so I was ineffective on campus any longer. It looks good in my file, so I can advance when the time comes. But that's just the quirks of the job." She tipped her cup back. "Under different circumstances I think we could have been friends. I know I'd want you as a friend more than an enemy any day." She smiled, breaking down a lot of the animosity that had built between us.

"We still can be, if you really want to try. Someone has to keep you cops on the up and up." I smiled back. Hey, one can never have too many girlfriends, even cops.

"Cool, you can start by teaching me how you put me on my ass so easily." Susan clicked her cup next to my bottle of cooler and our friendship was made.



When I say we were friends, I mean we are best friends. I introduced her to her second husband and she introduced me to my one and only husband. Susan's first husband was also a cop, but we caught him dipping his nightstick into his personal informant's pool without consent, if you know what I mean.

It's not that we were shocked about the sex. I mean, I know I've done all that is doable, minus the pain stuff. And yes, that means I've done every hole. I've done twosomes, threesomes, foursome and more-some. I've been pivot in a circle jerk, taken I don't know how many cum baths. I know how to deep throat and am still flexible enough to get in those porn positions that look good on film, but are rather unsatisfying in real life. I've eaten my fair share of muffin and learned that 69's are distracting for all they look hot. I hold nothing back from my husband and yes he knows exactly how Susan and I met. We all laugh about it when it comes up in conversation.




Why Are Men So Stupid?



I hope that clears up a few things for you. Because you see, I married one of Susan's cop friends, and she married one of my business friends after her divorce. 

Daniel and I have an agreement. It's called complete honesty. I'll also tell you since he and I started dating, there has been no one else inside my body, except when I delivered our children. But, since they grew inside of me, they had to get out somehow.

So, we can flash forward eighteen years. I have two high school age kids, a nice house, a dwindling mortgage, a loving husband, and two full time jobs. My first job is I'm a full time wife and mom. For the second job, I run an insurance office as its manager. Between keeping my husband happy, running my kids to their events and running the office, I don't have time for much else.

Granted, Susan and I take an hour a day to work out. We have to keep in shape, and we don't mean round. We've both aged pretty good. We still get the looks as we are out and about. All though my C cups have morphed into slightly drooping D's and my hips are a bit wider from having kids. I'm still a pretty good looking old broad, if I do say so myself.

So, I guess that leads me up to the time where... I'll call him Dick, for now. Well Dick, being one, saw me one day at some mall store or another. I didn't know Dick from Tom or Harry, but he remembered me it seems.

"Krystal...!" He shouted out happily. Now, I haven't gone by Krystal since my hostess days, so I ignored him. "Come on now, don't be that way." Dick came up in front of me. "I mean we used to have some good times together. Remember?" He winked his eye suggestively.

"Who are you?" I asked trying to place the face with anyone from my memory. I don't remember any fat balding pricks, so I tried to brush him off.

"Come on now, I wasn't sure it was you until you reached up and I saw that birth mark.' He gave me the eyebrow wiggle. "Granted the last time I saw it I was pumping your ass like a locomotive." He elbowed my boob and pissed me off.

"I don't know what you are talking about, so please leave me alone." I tried to walk past.

"Look Bitch!" Dick hissed showing me how pissed he really was. "I lost everything because of your whoring ass, and now it's time for some payback!" He tried to control his breathing. "Unless of course, you want the world to know what you used to do at the Dog and Pony Club!"

"What do you want?" I squinted at Dick, wanting nothing more than to break open his head.

"What I want is my fucking life back, but what I'll take, is yours!" Oh this asshole had a plan, and I just knew it. "I'm having a little party, and I want you to be the party favor." He smiled evilly. "I remember you used to be the best." He handed me a pay-as-you-go phone. "I'll call you with the details, or I'll call your husband and tell him he married a slutty whore!" He stomped off before I could stomp his ass.

"What's wrong Kris?" Susan walked up behind me.

"I think my past just caught up with me." I sighed, trying to get my anger in check.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" She smiled, quirking her brow, knowing me.

"I'm going to make that asshole wish he was never born. Call your husband and let him know you're having dinner at my place. Tell John to take the kids out to a movie or something so we can talk." I was already planning Dick's demise.

You see, like I said, my husband, who now is the supervisor over day shift patrol, and Susan who made detective a couple of years ago, I have enough back up to fuck up Dick's life to the fair thee well. No one threatens me. Not the cops then and not Dick now.



"So, how do you want to handle it?" Daniel asked me, holding my hand.

"I want to burn this bastard to the ground. If he thinks I fucked up his life before, he's sadly mistaken and I'll prove it to him this time." I was panting with anger.

"Calm down. Let's see what he really wants first. We know no matter what, he's going to try and get something on you and destroy your life, like he says you did to him." Susan was rubbing my back. We all jumped when the phone rang. My husband nodded when he put the ear piece in that we had connected to the phone.

"Yeah, what do you want?" I answered.

"Now, that's no way to treat you new best friend." Dick laughed. "You see, I remember the Dog and Pony Club, and I remember you. I remember how you got away Scott free, while guys like me lost everything because we fell for your innocent slut act."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... Ancient history and I didn't get away. I just didn't do anything illegal or cheat on anyone. That was all you pee-pee." I huffed. "If you remember correctly, I was subpoenaed to testify, and I did nothing to help the prosecution's case, so you should be thanking me, not trying to blackmail me."

"Fuck you... oh that's right I already have." He laughed.

"What do you want?" I sighed. "I don't have all day."

"You are going to do what you are so good at. You are going to entertain a few of my clients for me, or I tell your husband everything. How will that look? A cop's wife with a past as a whore... Just think of the headlines. You'll do as I say or I'll ruin you!"

"God you sound like a broken record." I interrupted his rant. "So, when, where and how many?" I asked bored.

"I'll let you know and about ten!" He chuckled.

"Ten, there is no way I'll do ten alone! I didn't back then and I won't now." I scoffed and rolled my eyes at my smiling husband.

"Well I have ten, and you are going to provide.... Find one of your whore friends, I don't fucking care!" He was breathing hard.

"I'll see what I can do. Call me back in a couple of days." I hung up on him and started laughing my ass off.

"What..?" Susan looked at me like I was crazy.

"You're going to be a whore for a night... and they'll eat it up." I couldn't stop laughing for five minutes.

"Okay, what are you talking about...?" Susan asked me getting pissed.

"But Officer Susan Savage, I've been such a naughty girl." I fluttered my eyelashes. "I need to be punished." I snorted.

"No, what you need is your head examined!" Susan wasn't thinking it through.

"I think I know where she's going with this and it wouldn't be entrapment." Daniel, my Daniel, he got it.

"Do you still fit in your uniform?" I asked all innocence. "I mean the one you wore when we were younger, before the kids?" I pulled my blouse tight to show off my tits.

"It's a bit tight, but I.... OH shit, you've got to be kidding me." Now she was getting it. "He'll never fall for it."

"Why not?" I asked, still wiping the tears from my eyes. "The hooker and the naughty cop. They will eat it up and be begging for more. They will be putty in our hands and you'll have an air tight case. All you have to say is something like 'I'm Officer Susan Savage, and you've been very naughty. So, who's going to strip down and assume the position so I can arrest you?' They'll be naked in seconds flat and you have identified yourself, you will be in uniform, and on duty."

"I think she's onto something." Daniel said, before Susan could quash the whole idea. "Plus we'll know where and be ready. We'll have the cameras and sound there to record it for the record. If a news crew was there when we led them out, it might teach a few men it's not nice to fuck with a cop's wife!" God, I love my husband.

"What if he tries to make sure you are compliant before the event?" Susan asked, looking at me and Daniel.

"I'll do a strip tease. It's not like he hasn't seen it before if he was at the club, and it's not like Daniel or you haven't seen me since." I shrugged. "If he tries to touch me, I'll break his dick off, shove it down his throat and that will be that."



So, now that you have the history, let me tell you how it all played out.

Right on schedule, Dick called me back on the now burned, tagged and recorded pay-as-you-go phone, and told me. "Next weekend, you're to tell you husband you have to be out of town. I don't care how you do it, but make sure the weekend is free." He demanded without a hi, bye, or kiss my ass.

"Wow, I don't know if my friend can make the whole weekend." I stammered uncertainly.

"Look, I promised a whole weekend, you'll give me a whole weekend. Remember I can hurt you more than you can hurt me, so get it done!" Is it just me or is Dick one dumb mother fucker?

"How much am I going to be making for the weekend?" I knew I had to talk about the money.

"You're not going to be making a fucking dime. I'll pull in about five grand if everything goes to plan." Yep, Dick was a dumb mother fucker.

"How are you going to prove I'm a whore if I don't earn some money, besides, my friend is going to want her cut, or her pimp will take it out of your ass." I rolled my eyes at how fucking clueless Dick was.

"Fine, she can have twenty five percent, but no more. I've got bills to pay. That is the whole reason for this Dog and Pony Show. Besides, you fucking owe me!"

"So, how is this going to work? I mean no one is going to pay the same amount for a blow job as getting to stick his tiny dick up my ass. I do have morals you know."

"You let me worry about that. I'll probably do like the Pony did. Put all the money in a jar, but I'll put the prices on the side so they know what they are paying for." I could tell this ass-wipe was making it up as he went, but oh well.

You see, that was the difference between what I did and what he was trying to make me do. I didn't get paid for the sex. The sex was bonus. 

Okay, so it was a lot of bonus, but still. I never fucked anyone I wouldn't have fucked otherwise. I got paid for showing the clubs clients a good time. Like I said, I got paid more for saying no, than dropping my panties and giving up the ass. What we split was actually tips for showing them a good time before the sex. There were no prices. They put in what they thought the evening was worth to them when they came in. I never asked. I never had to ask. But anyway, back to Dick and his feeble attempts at becoming a Pimp. 

"Okay, but I don't want you bitching about the show we put on." I sighed resigned to his coercion.

"What do you mean?" He asked confused.

"Well I thought I'd be giving a show to get everyone in the mood. You know something to make it more fun." I smiled at Susan who was scowling at me and blew a kiss to my husband who was listening in with his boss. "Some girl on girl action maybe." I stuck my tongue out at Susan who was looking wide eyed at me.

"Oh damn that sounds hot!" He sounded like he was pounding his pud while thinking about it.

"Okay, since you're not giving me a choice, I guess I'll have to do it." I sighed, resigned to my fate.

"You better believe you don't have a choice. I fucking own you and we both know it. You fuck this up, and I'll ruin you. If you do a good job... it will be the start of a profitable relationship. Well, at least for me." 

My God, did he learn evil lessons from the cartoons or what? All he needed was the hand rubbing and stupid laugh.

"What the fuck did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much?" I asked, getting a look from Daniel's boss.

"I lost everything because of you. I lost my house, my wife, my kids, and my job. I lost everything, because of you. I never fucked any of those other whores until you came there and you made is so I couldn't resist! You fucking owe me and I'm going to collect!" He was still raving at me when I clicked off the phone.

"That's one deluded twisted prick." I shook my head at everyone.

"There any truth to what he said" Daniel's boss asked looking at me like I was a bug.

"Don't go there." Daniel hissed.

"Look asshole, I never invited you into my house!" I snapped at him. "Ask Susan, she was there. Look at my fucking record and see for yourself. But don't you ever talk to me like that again, or I'll have your ass on a platter!" I was ready to rip him a new pie hole.

"I think you better leave before she kicks your ass." Susan warned him. "Remember we didn't have to bring this to you and the Chief loves Kris like his own little sister." Susan stepped forward.

"Sorry, I'm just asking what the DA and the Defense is going to ask." He held up his hands, trying to placate us.

"We'll talk later Mike, but I think it's time for you to leave our house." Daniel stepped up to me and put his arm around me. I love my man, but I know he wasn't trying to protect me while he hugged me close.



So, there we were. We looked up at some low rent, no tell, hotel, while Susan was bitching at me. 

"I look like a slut in this get up!"

"Duh, that's the idea." I'd huffed at her. "You're the naughty cop. So be naughty. Tease a little bit and we'll have them screwed blued and tattooed before they know what hit them." I fixed my lip gloss and tweaked my nipples.

"Remember our husbands are watching." She blushed. "Don't give them any ideas." She tugged at her too tight uniform blouse.

"Hike those puppies up." I grabbed her bra straps and shortened them. "You've got to sell it, so show some cleavage. We need them to be looking at your tits, not your real badge." I fluffed her hair into spiky bangs. "Give me five minutes then knock on the door. I'll have them warmed up and don't for God's sake flinch at anything I do." I sighed and waited for the fucking phone to ring.

"Yeah," I answered when it rang.

"Room two ten." Dick's voice hissed before he disconnected.

"It's show time, so enjoy the show." I kissed in the direction of the camera, knowing my husband was watching. I slapped my riding crop in my palm and stalked off in my whore heeled biker boots.

I knocked on the door. "I heard there is a party here. Can I join?" I smiled at the gulping older man. I saw his wedding ring, and no longer felt any guilt about what I was about to do to these assholes. "What's a girl got to do to get in the door?" I let the wrap fall off my shoulder.

"Damn Dick, you weren't lying. This bitch is hot!" The guy gulped and opened the door to let me in.

"Ooohh, an audience." I purred. "So do we want a show or what?" I was into it. I had them in the palm of my hand and straining their trousers. Right on cue Susan knocked on the door. "I'll get it." I blew a kiss to the enraptured men.

"I've had a complaint of some illegal funny business going on." Susan said her line, trying not to blow it.

"The only think illegal is that you are not joining the fun." I pulled her in the room and kissed her. "Can I play with your nightstick?" I cooed in her ear, stroking her nightstick hanging from her belt.

"Oh my God, is she's part of the show?" One guy gasped, pulling out his pecker and stroking it like a fiend.

"I'm Officer Susan Savage. I'm here to see who is being naughty. Are any of you boys being naughty?" Susan played it just right.

"Okay guys, you've seen the wares, pay up before the games get interesting." Dick almost broke the mood, but before you knew it, wads of money were in a big jar that had a piece of paper taped to it.

"So, there are a lot of naughty boys here. Let me search you to make sure you're not armed with anything that could hurt us." She pulled out her stick and stroked it up and down.

"Damn this is hot!" The old guy looked like he was going to have a stroke.

"Come on boys. Show me you're not armed so I can frisk you, just like I'm frisking this naughty little girl." Yeah, they were eating it up as Susan put me on the wall and frisked me very slowly, not missing a curve or cranny of my body.

Within a minute, almost all of the guys were down to their shorts or boxers licking their lips. 

"Oh Officer Savage, are you going to need help searching all these big strong men?" I asked wide eyed.

"Let's see, do I need to call for back up or are you going to be nice about it and assume the position on the wall?" Her top button popped making them all gasp. This was too good. We watched as they lined up on any spot of the wall and waited to be searched.

"That looks about right." I said with a smile.

"Yes it does." Susan sighed, licking her lips. "All right guys, you are all under arrest for solicitation of prostitution." Her voice got hard. "Don't get off the wall as my partners come in and cuff you and take you out to be booked."

"What the fuck?" One guy started to move as the door burst open and ten other officers came in the room. "You heard Office Savage, don't move. You're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent...."

"Oh no Dick, don't even think about it." I took my heel and nutted the bastard as he tried to run past me with the jar of money.

"Is that the Pimp?" One of the officers asked me as he put his knee in Dick's back.

"Yeah, that's the blackmailing son-of-a-bitch!" Susan grabbed me before I did something irreparable.

"This is entrapment!" One of the guys yelled. "I'll have your badges. Just wait until my lawyer hears about this!" He eyes went wide as he was escorted out to do his perp walk, the news cameras right there in his face.

"I don't think so asshole. We have it on tape that Officer Savage ID'd herself when she came into the room. Her arrest is as by the book as you can get. Not a word misspoken or out of context. Your helping with the search for weapons was just bonus." The cop who was walking laughed. "This is going to look great on You-Tube when it goes out. God, I love the freedom of information act, you naughty boy."

"I'll get you, you bitch. I'll fucking destroy you! Just wait until I talk to your husband. This isn't over cunt." Dick was screaming at me as it took three guys to pull him out of the room.

"Hey asshole!" Daniel walked up in uniform. "Watch what you say to my wife." That brought him up short. "Besides, you can't tell me anything I don't already know. So, since you have the right to shut the fuck up, I'd use it if I was you!"

He went ballistic instead and on camera too. "You fucking whore. I'll fucking kill you. Just wait until I make bail, I'll find you and kill you. You fucking bitch, I'll kill you." Well, so much for him making bail.



"Are you done writing that statement yet?" Susan asked, looking over my shoulder. "We need to get you in some real clothes so these guys can get some work done, and stop looking at the boss's wife." She turned on the cops who made themselves very busy doing something else.

"Yeah, I think that's about all I can say about it. I hope the kids never learn about this."

"Too late, John has been telling them all about it." Susan sighed. "They double teamed him after the second time we sent them out to discuss the case."

"Shit, not good." I sighed.

"What, they think it's cool." Susan laughed. "Their mom gets to bust open a big prostitution ring and she still hot enough to pull it off. The news is calling it the 'Naughty Boy Raid'. Daniel squared them away of the use to be a prostitute thing. So, you're a hero in their eyes. And talking about eyes, there are too many wandering ones here so let's go get you dressed again." She covered me with a coat and pulled me into the women officers changing area as the men groaned.



So, there you have it. Once upon a time ago, I used to earn money from my body. Does that make me a prostitute? Some will say yes and some will say no. I know legally I never sold myself for money, so I say no. According to the police and the courts, I have a completely clean record. Yes, I had a lot of consensual sex when I was younger. But, I know I'm in good company of others who did the same things. Some of them are Senators and such.

I can tell you that I have never cheated on my husband and I never will. Yes, I know how to do things that still rock his world and do them on a regular basis. But, isn't that the way it's supposed to be? It is my job to keep him totally happy and I love doing my job.




Why Are Men So Stupid?



Because of the unwanted attention at work afterwards, I had to quit my other job though. I'm sick and tired of this stupid belief that once a whore, always a whore and all women are whores. So on and so forth. Just because it was on the news, the men thought I couldn't have earned my position as manager. I mean what good looking women would want to work hard to get ahead, when all they had to do is lay down and spread their legs. 

Fucking idiots!

I'm not worried though. My attorney tells us we will be able to retire on the sexual harassment settlement we'll be getting from the recordings I gave him. You'd think some men would realize by now that I can't be bribed, bullied, and I am faithful loving wife to my faithful loving cop husband.

So, to answer the question. Can someone with a tawdry past become a good housewife and mother? All I can tell you is from my history. And yes, I am a great housewife and a better mother. And, to answer the other question at the beginning of this tale, I never was, or will be a whore!




Post Script,

I hope you enjoyed this fictionalized adult story enough to comment, leave me feedback or just vote on it. Please remember this is a copyrighted piece of work and all those nasty legal disclaimers apply. Thank you.



Why Are We Always Late?



David: Baby! Pleeease! Come on! Why are we always late?

Lena smiles as she comes down the steps looking at her husband, 'You know why.' Then she kisses him on the cheek as she walks to get her purse in the dining room. He can't help but watch her as she moves. Everything about this woman is sexy. Her hair piled high in a bun atop her head, a large chunky necklace he bought her when they went to Greece on their honeymoon and the diamond studs he'd given her for their third wedding anniversary.

He loves to see her in those long sun dresses that have no sleeves or straps at the shoulders. She looks beautiful in anything she wears but he especially likes her in sun dresses. To him she is perfection. When the wind blows it allows him to see the form of her body under the fabric. Does anybody else notice that? Suddenly, he snaps out of it saying, 'Look! We gotta go. I don't wanna be the one to explain why we weren't on time.'

Lena: OK. OKaaaay. I'm ready. Do I look all right?

She appeared worried and smoothed the front as she tilted her head in wonder.

David: You look great babe! Let's go.

Lena: Seriously. Should I wear the green dress?

David walks over to his wife, 'You could make a paper bag look good!' kisses her nose, 'Now let's go!'

Lena looked down at the dress once more. The orange tones made her skin look bronzed and she liked that. She also liked the length of the dress, how it skirted her ankles allowing her to wear flats. This was another plus. It was also cinched just under and above her breasts making them look larger than they actually are. Bonus! No buttons, belts or zippers. Just slides over her head. Super easy and chic.

David opens the car door for Lena and makes sure she's comfortable then he trots around to the driver's side and enters the car. He stops and looks at his wife before starting the car, 'You do have everything, right? Because I'm not stopping at any stores and we're not coming back here for anything.'

Lena is looking at him out the side of her face, 'Ya know you can be a little bit crabby sometimes? Maybe you should increase your fiber intake.'

David: Whatever! So long as we understand the rules.

Lena makes a mocking face and they exit the garage, finally en route to his cousin's wedding. They are driving for about 10 minutes when Lena starts searching in her bag for something. David tries not to pay any attention. He already knows what's about to happen. Her searching becomes more frantic and she starts to moan in despair. When he doesn't react Lena throws her purse in the back seat of the car and says, 'I'm such a dingbat! I can't believe I forgot that!'

David is trying very hard not to ask her what she's left behind. He doesn't want to know. Didn't he explain the rules before they left the house? He told her to make sure she had everything and she said she did. So now what is this all about? "Be cool David. Be cool man." he tells himself.

Lena: What is wrong with me? No, no. Hold on! Ya know this is your fault. If you hadn't been rushing me this wouldn't have happened.

Now twisting in his seat, he's trying to keep his temper under control. This has all the components for an argument. "I don't want to know!" he keeps telling himself; but she's carrying on so. His curiosity gets the better of him and in as smooth a voice as he can muster. 'I know I'm going to regret this but...what did you leave?'

Smiling to herself, she slowly reaches down and pulls up her dress and places her foot on the dashboard spreading her legs for David's viewing, 'I forgot to put on my panties. Can you believe it?' her voice is just above a whisper.

David turns to look at the problem she is describing. Lena takes his hand guiding it to her nakedness, 'What are we going to do about this, babe? I mean you were pretty clear with the rules and all. Do you think it'll be OK for me to walk around like this? Will anyone know?'

As she taunted him with the silly questions his fingers played with the moist folds of flesh. Wetting his finger from the center of her, he began to search for the pink pearl. He knew as soon as he had found it. Lena let him know. He used his thumb to pull back the hood that cloaked that precious gem and used his middle finger to gently stroke it. Lena released his hand; David knew exactly what he was doing and needed no more guidance. She lifted her hands over her head and locked her fingers behind the head rest. Closing her eyes she luxuriated in the pleasure David awarded her.

She wondered how long he could keep driving. What they are doing now is meant to be a taunt; a teasing before the main event. This just isn't going to be enough for her. "Is he really not going to stop? Not even for this?" She needs to push him a bit more. Unlocking her fingers she leisurely let her hand find his thigh. She ran her fingers down the length of it to his knee and then ran her nails up the inside. It was like electricity dancing on his skin through the thin fabric of his trousers. When she got to his groin she continued to use her nails and grazed his testicles. She knew he wasn't wearing any underwear; he hardly ever did.

David had to stop. When his eyes starting rolling to the back of his head is when the decision had been made. He pulled over to a secluded area with trees hanging overhead. They parked under a small bridge to continue their passion.

Lena was close to orgasm and this always made David hungrier for her. She was so wet now. David unbuckled his seat belt. With his free hand he began to open and pull down his pants exposing his thick penis, his veins raised high and distinct under the taut skin. The sight of his erection sent her over the edge into the first orgasm. She could hardly wait for what was going to happen next. David unbuckled her seat belt and with one motion Lena was in his lap straddling him; her dress pooled between them. David reached down on the side of the seat and pushed the button to make it recline, drop close to the floor and slide back.

She didn't let him enter her. Not right away. There were some things she wanted from him first; like his lips and tongue on her neck and on her breasts and nipples. He was the best lover she'd had. He knew her body and she craved his. She wanted to make him wait for it; even beg for it. Build the anticipation. He ran his hands under her dress up her thighs to her butt. It's perfectly round and plump; it bounces when she walks and when he taps it. That makes him nuts inside.

David is holding her around her waist. She leans down and kisses his bottom lip then licks the top one. Lena sits up straight, reaches behind her head and takes off the necklace. She wants David to have full access to her neck. She leaned in close to him to put the necklace on the back seat and David lifted his back off the seat and sank his teeth into the side of her neck. She gasped. The feeling is a combination of heat, pain and pleasure that covered her skin with goose bumps.

He then lightly dragged his tongue down her collarbone to the crease between her breasts. As he slowly rolled down the top of her dress she positioned herself over him. David opened his mouth wide to take in her nipple as Lena lowered herself onto him. Their pleasure is simultaneous. Both moaning from what the other was rendering. Lena arched her back holding David by the back of his head. He feasted on one nipple then quickly changed his attention to the other. Her hips were sliding back and forth in his lap. He pulled her to him kissing her up her neck to her mouth. Lena pushed him back in the seat. Her orgasm was close. Her tongue played with his. With every movement of her hips she brought them closer to climax.

She whispered in his ear, 'Come with me.' he was more than glad to. He loved to watch her as she came. She was like art in motion. It always feeds his desire for her. Currents of pleasure went through David; looking at her like this was a gift. She met his gaze. Her lips. His eyes. The way her chest moves from the heavy breathing. The way his tongue curls at his top lip; like he's just had a tasty snack. How her nipples stiffen the closer she is to release. The bulging vein on the side of his neck that pulsates as he ejaculates.

Lena rests her hands on his shoulders as the orgasm takes her. Lips opened announcing her arrival to their ecstasy. David was with her. His groans were in sync with hers. He gripped her by her hips from under her dress. Because this is not the first time they've made love in a public place he's trained himself to be aware of their surroundings, keeping her safe; watchful for passersby, police, gawkers. She wanted to keep looking at him while he came but her own orgasm was so intense she couldn't focus. Her eyes rolled behind closed lids.

As they came down from their shared high; Lena touched her lips to his. David breathed the word, 'Sweet.' against her lips. This made Lena smile. She tried to move to separate from him and back into the passenger seat. He gripped her by the hips again, 'Don't move. Not yet. Just a minute more.' He never wanted to separate right after. One more thing she loved about him. He would sit like this for hours if they could. As she languished in his lap he caressed her back and kissed her face, her neck, lips, nose, cheeks.

Lena: Babe, did you forget we have an engagement?

David: No. This is always more important.

She looked down at him. She knew he meant it but she also knew he would be complaining if they were late. Little did he know she had told him the wedding started an hour earlier than the actual time. She liked to come up with little things to keep their romance hot and spicy.

David: You're wicked!

Lena: Hunh? Why do you say that?'

Had she been found out?

David: You planned this before we even left the house. Had you been planning it all day? All week?

Lena gave him a naughty smile, 'Wouldn't you like to know? I can't reveal all my secrets. Where's the intrigue in that? I like exciting you. You did enjoy that? It seemed so.'

David shook his head at her and with a small grin and whispered, 'Wicked.'

Lena placed her hand on his jaw and pulled him to her face. She was close enough he could feel the warmth from her skin and breath as she said, 'I'll take that to mean you did.', then she kissed him softly and sensually. Her tongue danced openly on his lips.

David: Damn! I love you.

After 8 years of marriage the passion for each other still burns hot.

Lena smiles and replies, 'I know. I love you back.'

She then lifts herself off of him and they gather themselves; Lena hands David a couple of baby wipes she has in her purse then they rearrange their clothes back to pre-coital order. David's in a bit of a panic as they pull off.

David: How am I gonna explain this one? This right here is why we're always late. You know they all know why. It's not a secret.

Lena: Baby, calm down. No need to worry. There's no need to rush. We have plenty of time.

David: What? Have you looked at a clock? We are so late. It's probably why they didn't ask either of us to be involved in the wedding. All we had to do was just show up on time but nooooooo. Somebody had to be naughty and left their panties at home.

Lena: Geez! Didn't we just have a great time? And look at you. You're all stressed out for no reason.

David: Why do you keep saying that?

Lena smiles, 'Babe. I took care of things. The wedding doesn't start for another 40 minutes. We have plenty of time.

David: You...you changed the time on the invitation?

Lena: No. You never looked at the invite. I just told you the time.

David had to admit this is one of her better ideas. He held her hand in his and began to relax and let the good feelings he'd just had with her ebb back over him. He smiled, 'See what I mean? Wicked!' and he kissed the back of her hand. After about fifteen minutes of driving, Lena looked in the back seat to get her necklace and purse when it hit her.

Lena: Umm, baby.

Keeping his eyes on the road, David smiles and practically purred. 'Yeah, love?'

Lena began to stammer. 'Uhh, we have to go back to the house.'

David: Nice try. You're funny. All this good lovin and jokes too?

Lena is cringing now, 'Sweetie, we really do. I forgot their wedding gift.'

He can't bring himself to look at her, instead he rolls his eyes to the heavens and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. 'WHY are we always late?!!?'



Why Are We Here On Literotica?



I went to a wedding yesterday and was struck not only by the change in the verbiage, though still recognizable as the text prescribed by traditional Baptist recitations, but so modernized as to give me cause for pause in contemplating marriage. The context presented was practical, and the vows that the couple made seemed as if they ought to be doable. The truth is that although they sounded reasonable enough, they left me with a disquieted feeling. I spent a lot of time trying to pay attention to the proceedings around me but was distracted by thoughts of my Dom and some of my friends here. They're all married men and I've helping them to cheat on their wives. I'm not at all proud of this fact, and I wondered how I could have come so far in two and a half years. I reflected on the possible reasons why sites like Literotica thrive. I asked myself why I am among the 33% of women and 72% of men who view porn and read erotica regularly.

Google, through Michael Arrington on AOL Tech, has reported in an article published in 2007 that:

* "89% of porn is created in the U.S.
* $2.84 billion in revenue was generated from U.S. porn sites in 2006
* $89/second is spent on porn
* 72% of porn viewers are men
* 260 new porn sites go online daily"

while statistics gleaned at the United Families International site on Google showed that 12% or over 24.6 million websites were pornographic during that year. Additionally, over US$3,000 was being spent and over 28,000 persons were viewing a pornographic website PER SECOND. The industry worldwide, according to the site, was worth US$4.9 billion in 2007, spawned 2.5 billion e-mails daily and 68 million or 25% of search engine requests. 

I don't think that I need to go on; the truth is that none of us needed to read these statistics to realize that porn is big business. It's like an addictive drug in which one becomes hooked on the free site and eventually pays subscription fees in an effort to see the better stuff in the Members Only portals. Ironically, that's how I came to Lit. I enjoyed the stories that I could see for free and wondered what the members were getting. I didn't have to pay to come here, of course, but the principle holds that I was looking for something more to feed my addiction.

I have chatted with scores of persons in the nearly two years that I've been here, and I have asked many of them about their reasons for being here. Of course, some of the answers that I have received have led me to wonder why they have remained in their marriages; but that is material for further contemplation and, perhaps, another essay. Generally though, the persons whom I have spoken with are here for four reasons:

* Boredom/Needing excitement
* Revenge cheating 
* Mutual masturbation
* Lonely/Needing to connect with humanity – needing to be loved

You don't have to go beyond some of the personals, posted even in The Playground, or receive unsolicited PMs as I have done, to know that there are several persons on the site who are simply bored. They need company for the night, and they want you to be it. The truth is that about 50% of the time it is quite easy to deflect these persons by talking about their lives and the other things that interest them. Conversations that go this way tend to result in online friendships that do not become genuinely sexual in nature at all. There may be a little light hearted flirting and a lot of flattery going on, but nothing more. 

The benefit, of course, is that I have learned so many new things by this means: what it means to practice medicine, law or political lobbying in the US, what the life of a railway worker is like; the true emotional cost to a man of keeping his wife barefoot and pregnant! For the other 50%, these "relationships' do not last since both parties have no real interest in each other, and so the boredom continues even during the flirtation. I have found that if I can't get someone to talk about something other than sex in the first 10 minutes of our encounter then I lose interest in that person completely, and I begin to wonder about his emotional maturity, and feel sorry for his wife.

I have come across only one admitted case of revenge cheating, but I have seen one other case, by reading the posts of a very angry person being here to check up on her spouse. It was not a pleasant thing to read and so I wondered about the lives of the many persons who tell me that although they play here often, their spouses do not know about their guilty pleasures. Obviously, they know their spouse better than I ever will, but in my case, I told my partner about my involvement here on the first morning after I signed up. It took me only one day to realize that I would enjoy being a member here and I decided to let him know about it and to invite him to join me. He declined, but he does listen when I tell him about my encounters here. To tell you the truth, he seems to find me more interesting during the times when I have told him about the tasks that I have accomplished for the various Doms whom I have met during these months. That he is more than willing to help them manage me has shocked me, because here I was thinking that he was vanilla for the 12 years that I knew him before joining Lit!

You may feel that because he's only my partner and not my husband that things are different for me. That is probably true; he has less to lose by leaving me and yet he's stayed and become even more attentive than even my wildest dreams could have imagined. My point though, is to be honest, if only with yourself. You need to know why it is that if you are not happy with your sex life, you have not discussed this with your spouse and, if necessary, with a counselor? If you're married, why have you not told the person here on Lit early, before emotional bonding, and allowed him or her to decide if that is something in which (s)he wants to be involved. Like me, you could be surprised by your spouse. 

That my partner won't actually join me here is my major regret about participating on this site. I should say, for the record, that I trust him not to be here under some sort of disguised identity checking up on me. That said, I like watching the couples here! I think that it's romantic to be perving together. In my opinion, it speaks of openness and a commitment to authentic communication in the relationship. I count as lucky the women here whose partners have established threads showing off their bodies. To be fair to him, my partner has taken many of the photographs that I share with my friends; not setting up a thread is a demonstration of my own insecurity, not his. 

So, finally, we arrive at the main reason why most of my friends are here and why it was that I came here in the first place. Too many of my Lit friends are here to escape the loneliness that they feel in their real lives. They wish to find a connection with someone and feel loved and valued. For me this is the most profound, and at the same time, saddest reason for being here. I even had one of my former Doms lie to me about some important issues in his life because he wanted to impress me. I am sorry that I had not taken the time or made the effort to tell him before that happened how very impressed I already was, because discovering the lie spoiled everything even though I understood why it happened. I wonder how many times something like this has happened in the offline lives of the people here. How many times would one word of affirmation from a loved one have prevented hours of looking for love on a sex site?

I have little time for people who try to proselytize to me, but I think that if we look around at the majesty of Nature, from the cavernous night sky to the tiniest ant carrying a crumb of biscuit, and if we listen to beautiful music or read the great books of these and times past then we will experience a feeling of connection with the universe and a sense of wonder that will render us speechlessly happy to be alive in any of the most trying of circumstances. For me, this connection with the universe spawns a sense of unconditional love both by and for the world around me. It has caused me to try to understand and facilitate rather than snicker at men who like and wear silk pantyhose, given that I, as a woman, do not. I think that the attraction of sites like these is their ability to allow us to explore our darker sides without feelings of judgment from ourselves or from others. I think that sites like these allow us to ask ourselves and others the questions that we would feel uncomfortable asking in mainstream society among our friends, neighbours and relatives. They give us a sense of being courageous and adventurous, they allow us to feel open-minded and cosmopolitan, even if we're stuck in parochial little Jamaica in reality. Sites like these really do give us a jolt of adrenalin, but like most addictive drugs the feeling wears off all too soon, and we're left with wondering what next as we explore what is behind the next suggested link or as we type in our credit card number and click "submit".



Why Are You Here?



John walked into the doctor's office and sat down.

"So...Mr. Evans...tell me about your problem." Susan said.

"Well I'm not exactly sure that the problem is mine doctor." John said.

"Then whose problem is it?" Susan asked.

"I'm pretty sure that the problem is my wife's...or rather her friends'." John said.

"Then why are you here instead of them?" Susan asked.

"I'm here because my wife wants me to be here right now." John said.

"Why does your wife want you to be here?" Susan asked.

"Well she says that I'm the one that's been causing the problem, but I believe she's saying that because her friends told her to." John said.

"So...John...what exactly is the problem?" Susan asked.

"My wife wants to cheat on me." John said.

Susan was a bit surprised.

"She wants to cheat on you?" Susan asked.

"Yes." John said.

"How do you know this?" Susan asked.

"She flat out told me." John said.

"I see. And you think her friends are somehow behind it?" Susan asked.

"I know without a doubt that they are behind it doctor." John said.

"What makes you so sure of that?" Susan asked.

"I'm sure they're behind it because ever since they came back into her life they have been pulling her away from me." John said.

"Since they came back into her life?" Susan asked.

"Yes...the five of them went to college together in Georgia. Kelly moved out here for work after she graduated...leaving them behind. She and I met, fell in love, and have been married for 9 years. Four months ago the 4 of them moved out here...together. They immediately tracked Kelly down." John said.

"That seems unusual. Four women moving to the same place like that at the same time. Are any of them married?" Susan asked.

"Oh yes...all 4 of them are married. They forced their husbands to move out here. I truly believe that the only reason they moved out here was to get Kelly back." John said.

"I see...that seems a bit drastic Mr. Evans." Susan said.

"That's what I thought too...at first. Think about it doctor...4 married women in the south moving to Southern California at the exact same time...into the exact same town...into the exact same neighborhood that my wife and I live in. All of them have very different jobs and had apparently been very successful where they were living. Then for some reason all four of them uprooted not just their husbands but their whole families, they each have children. That seems a bit drastic to me as well doctor, but that is exactly what has happened." John said.

"I see. All 4 of them really moved at the same time?" Susan asked.

"They were on the same exact flight out here doctor." John said.

"I see. So you believe that the reason they came here was for your wife?" Susan asked.

"Yes. I got home from work the day that they all arrived and found them all sitting in my living room talking to Kelly. All four of them gave me death stares as Kelly introduced me to them with a huge smile on her face. They asked me...no they told me...to leave so that they could talk privately. Well I wasn't about to be dictated to in my own house so when I said that I'd had a long day and had no intention of leaving my house they whisked Kelly out the door with them and I didn't see her again until the next morning when I woke up and found her in bed next to me. I had gone to bed well after midnight doctor...so she got home some time after that." John said.

"She could very easily have just been out celebrating seeing her friends again after so long." Susan said.

"I'm sure that's exactly what it was...the first night. The problem was that it was the same thing for the next two weeks doctor. Kelly wouldn't be home when I got home after work and she wouldn't get home until after I had gone to bed." John said.

"That does seem excessive." Susan said.

"Yeah...it is excessive...and neglectful too. Kelly has always picked our kids up at school every day. Since her friends have come to town Kelly has asked my mom to do it. Of course my mom loves to have the kids with her, but Kelly never used to like having my mom take care of the kids. She was a devoted mother...was being the operative word. Now she only sees the kids in the mornings when she gets them ready for school and on weekends." John said.

"That's definitely something that would concern me. How long has this been going on?" Susan asked.

"Her friends moved to town 4 months ago." John said.

"So for the last 4 months your wife has been gone all evening on weekdays?" Susan asked.

"Yes...except for my birthday and our anniversary." John said.

"So does that mean that you have only been making love on weekends?" Susan asked.

"That's right...Saturday and Sunday only." John said.

"I see. So when did your wife tell you that she wanted to cheat on you?" Susan asked.

"A month ago." John said.

"How did she tell you?" Susan asked.

"On a Sunday night after the kids had gone to bed she sat down next to me on the couch and without making any kind of small talk first or anything like that she told me that she wanted to have sex with other guys. She said it like she was telling me that she wanted to get a new coffee table or something." John said.

"And what was your reaction?" Susan asked.

"What the hell do you think my reaction was?" John asked.

"So you said no?" Susan asked.

"You're god damn right I did. I take my marriage vows very serious." John said.

"So that was a month ago. How did you go from her telling you that a month ago to sitting in my office today?" Susan asked.

"When I told her no she said that I was being unfair." John said.

"Unfair? She thought it was unfair of you to tell her that you didn't want her having sex with other men?" Susan asked.

"Yeah...that's right. We argued around and around about it. We were basically foaming at the mouth we were both so worked up. Neither of us gave an inch. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe how she could want to do that and how she would think that I'd ever approve of it." John said.

"So how do her friends tie into this?" Susan asked.

"Well with as much time as she had been spending with them and as little time as she had been spending with me and the kids I immediately assumed that they were either encouraging her to do it or possibly even trying to make her do it. My suspicions were confirmed when the Saturday after she told me we had a barbecue and of course her friends were there. Over the course of about two hours all 4 of them took me away from the party individually and told me that I was being unfair and unreasonable and that I needed to give Kelly my permission to have sex with other men. I was pretty sure before, but that removed any doubt that I had. They were definitely involved and more than that they were aggressively trying to convince her to do it. I was slightly relieved when I realized that to that point Kelly seemed to have resisted. I figured that if they were all trying to get me to give my consent then it meant that Kelly told them that she could never do it unless I said it was okay." John said.

"It definitely seems like her friends are at the very least encouraging her and want her to do it even if they aren't trying to force her to do it. I still don't see how any of this leads to you being here in my office." Susan said.

"My wife kept on me about it. She said that she really wanted it, that it wouldn't change anything between us; that if anything it would make things better between us, that I was being unfair to not let her do it, and that I was being irrational." John said.

"Irrational? She said that it was unfair and irrational of you to not want her to have sex with other men?" Susan asked.

"Yes." John said.

"It seems to me like she's the one that's being irrational." Susan said.

"Exactly." John said.

"So then if she thinks you're being irrational how did you wind up here? I'm still not seeing the connection between what you're going through and you being here." Susan said.

"She told me that I was suffering from an irrational fear that I would be losing something if I let her do it. She said that I wouldn't lose anything and that I'd in fact gain a lot from letting her do it." John said.

"What would you possibly gain from your wife having sex with other men?" Susan asked.

"I asked her that very question." John said.

"And what was her answer?" Susan asked.

"She said that she would love me more because letting her do it would show her how much I love and trust her and how much I care about her happiness. She also said that it would make our sex life better." John said.

"How could your wife having sex with other men make your sex life together better?" Susan asked.

"I asked her that question too. She couldn't give me anything close to a reasonable explanation of that one. The closest she came was telling me that her desire for me would increase because it would show that I was a strong and confident male if I let her have sex with other men. Total bullshit huh?" John asked.

"That's what it sounds like to me. So...I still don't understand why you're here." Susan said.

"Well...in my wife's opinion...I'm being irrational...I'm being stubborn...I'm experiencing fear for no reason. As far as she's concerned every reason that I give for not wanting her to do it is all in my head so I must be crazy...or at least that's what her friends have convinced her to believe." John said.

"So she asked you to come here so that I could evaluate your sanity?" Susan asked.

"Nope. That's not why I'm here at all." John said.

"Then why are you here?" Susan asked.

"I'm here so that you can convince me to let her do it." John said.

"What? Why on Earth would I do that? What would make your wife or her friends think that I'd ever even suggest anything like that?" Susan asked.

"Well...I'm almost certain that they specifically picked you for a reason." John said.

"Just what reason might that be?" Susan asked.

"Well first off you're a woman...so they expect you to understand their point of view and be on their side." John said.

"Be on their side? Are you crazy?" Susan asked.

"No...I'm not. The second reason that they picked you is that you're a woman that has been cheating on her husband for years." John said.

Susan's expression went blank.

"How did you...how did you know that?" Susan asked.

"I overheard Kelly talking to one of her friends on the phone about you before they set up the appointment." John said.

"Your wife and her friends were talking about me? What do they...how could they know anything about me?" Susan asked.

"They know things about you because of one other thing I know about you." John said.

"What is that?" Susan asked.

"Your brother and sister moved to town about 4 months ago didn't they doctor?" John asked.

Susan was surprised.

"Yes...how could you...oh god...you mean?" Susan asked.

"Yes...one of my wife's friends is Lisa Johnson...your brother's wife." John said.

"Oh my god. I had no idea. I never would have guessed. Eric and I grew up in this area. I thought that he was just moving back to be closer to where he grew up." Susan said.

"No...that was just a coincidence. Lisa and the others moved here to get my wife." John said.

"So if Lisa is one of your wife's friends then does that mean that her other friends are Amy, Rebecca, and Nicole?" Susan asked.

"That's them." John said.

"Oh my god. So they are the ones that are trying to get your wife to have sex with other men and they wanted me to try to convince you?" Susan asked.

"That's right. Kind of shocking huh? I came in here half expecting you to try it. I figured they would have tried to bring you in on it...to get you to try to convince me to let Kelly do it...by threatening to tell your husband Mark and your brother Eric about your affair." John said.

Susan looked completely blown away.

"Oh god...Lisa...she called me two days ago. I was with a patient at the time so she left me a voicemail. She said that she wanted to take me to lunch. She said she had something we really needed to talk about. I forgot about her call and never got back to her." Susan said.

John nodded.

"Yeah, and because of that Kelly wanted me to reschedule my appointment with you. It seems pretty clear that she wanted me to reschedule so that I wouldn't see you until after Lisa had talked to you and threatened to tell your husband about your affair if you didn't do your best to try to convince me that letting Kelly have sex with other men would be a good thing." John said.

"Oh god...I can't believe that this is really happening. It's so...unreal." Susan said.

"Oh this is as real as it gets doctor." John said.

"I just...I just don't believe it." Susan said.

"Believe it. It sounds completely absurd, but your sister and her 3 friends moved across the country and here to town for the sole purpose of getting my wife back. Since they've been here they have been trying to get Kelly to have sex with other men. I have to assume that means that all of them already are having sex with other men. Kelly has apparently been strong enough to resist them so far...telling them that she can't or won't until I give her permission. She apparently wants to do it though because she keeps asking for my permission and keeps trying to convince me to let her do it. She and her friends decided to send me here so that you...a mental health specialist...could use your psycho-babble to try to convince me to let her to it. Their plan got messed up because I refused to reschedule my appointment and came here to see you before they had the chance to blackmail you into doing it by threatening to tell your husband about your affair. I'm sure you can be pretty convincing, but you would never have been able to convince me to let Kelly do that no matter how persuasive you tried to be. That was their plan though...to have you rationalize it for me. Since their plans have fallen apart I wouldn't be surprised if they've got Kelly fucking some other guy as we speak. Their plan to get me to give her my consent to have sex with other men went to hell so they just might resort to having her do it without my permission and then trying to force me to accept it after the fact. Well doctor...I will never accept that and I will divorce Kelly if she decides to do it without my consent or if I find out that she has already done it. Since the part of their plan involving you fell apart they might try to take it out on you by telling your husband about your affair...I hope not, but I won't be surprised if they do." John said.

Susan had tears in her eyes.

"John...if my affair being revealed keeps your wife from having one of her own then so be it. What are you going to do?" Susan asked.

"I'm going to talk to Kelly...whenever they let me see her that is. I'm going to tell her that all she has to do to get my permission to have sex with other men is sign these." John said.

John put a set of divorce papers on Susan's desk.

"I picked those up at my attorney's office this morning. I also have some in the works for alienation of affection that I will have the 4 of them served with if Kelly signs the divorce papers...and maybe even if she doesn't." John said.

"I hope it doesn't come to that John. I hope Kelly realizes that sex with other men isn't worth throwing away a marriage and a family." Susan said.

"Interesting words from a woman having an affair." John said.

"My affair ended a year and a half ago John. It went on for 2 years before I realized just how much I had to lose. Imagine that, it took a psychiatrist 2 years to figure something like that out. Well...I'm certainly not going to attempt what it seems they wanted me to do so I think that's enough for this session. Good luck to you John...whatever happens." Susan said.

"Thank you." John said.

John picked up the divorce papers and headed for home. John was waiting in the living room when Kelly, Lisa, Amy, Rebecca, and Nicole walked in laughing. They stopped laughing when they saw John.

"John...what are you doing home so early?" Kelly asked.

"You four get out...now." John said.

"Kelly invited us in for coffee...we're staying." Lisa said defiantly.

John walked up and looked down at Lisa.

"I said get the fuck out of my house right now. If you won't leave on your own I will physically throw you out." John said.

Lisa scoffed.

"You wouldn't dare." Lisa said.

"Lady...you don't have the first fucking clue what I will and won't do. For example." John said

John grabbed Lisa, threw her over his shoulder and walked towards the door with her kicking and screaming. John took her out into the front yard and dropped her roughly in the grass. He then turned back towards the house where the others were watching.

"Do you three want to be next?" John asked.

Amy, Rebecca, and Nicole scurried out of the house. Kelly tried to get out of the house too, but John grabbed her by the waist of her pants, pulled her inside, shut, and locked the door. He pulled Kelly down the hall and into the kitchen...she strained against him the entire time.

"John...I can't believe you just did that. You could have seriously hurt Lisa." Kelly said.

"I don't give a fuck if I killed her Kelly. Sit down." John said.

John released his grip on Kelly's pants and she headed for the door.

"I've got to go check on Lisa." Kelly said.

"Kelly...if you step one foot outside of this house before I've said what I have to say you will never set foot inside this house again." John said.

Kelly looked concerned.

"What do you mean?" Kelly asked.

"Get your ass over here and sit down." John said.

Kelly wasn't used to the commanding tone in John's voice. She cautiously walked over and sat down at the table.

"Kelly...four months ago Lisa, Amy, Rebecca, and Nicole all moved to town at the same time and from the moment they got to town you have been a completely different person. You're out every night until well past midnight, you're never home in the evenings, you're distant and preoccupied on weekends, and you've been neglecting the kids." John said.

"I have not been neglecting the kids." Kelly said.

"Yes you have Kelly. Over the past 4 months you have only been here at home twice on a week night. Those two days were my birthday and our anniversary. Those are a lot of hours that you used to spend with the kids...but for the past 4 months you've been spending them with your friends instead." John said.

"That doesn't mean...." Kelly said.

"Then a month ago you come and tell me that you want my permission to have sex with other men. You said it like you were telling me that you bought a new purse or something. When I tell you that there's no way that I'll give you my permission to have sex with other men you tell me that I'm being irrational. You go to the trouble of finding a psychiatrist to send me to in the hopes that they would be able to convince me to let you do it. That little plan backfired didn't it?" John asked.

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about. I'm genuinely concerned about your mental state." Kelly said.

"Don't play dumb with me Kelly. I know that Lisa is the doctor's sister. I know that Lisa was planning to use the doctor's affair as leverage to get her to try to convince me to let you do it. I know that the reason you wanted to reschedule my appointment was because Lisa hadn't been able to get to the doctor yet...so she hadn't had the opportunity to blackmail her into doing what she wanted. I know all about that Kelly." John said.

Kelly's face went pale.

"Just so you know; nobody on Earth could convince me to agree to that Kelly. Finally I decided on my own that if you want to do it that badly you can have sex with as many other men as you want. Feel free...you have my blessing and my full support." John said.




Why: Why Are You Here?



I awoke the morning after my night of being raped by the two bikers for the second time, feeling sore and tense. The night's events still played in my mind. I called my parents and asked about getting a new place, but their answer was what I had expected considering I wouldn't go into any details on why I needed to move from one expensive apartment complex and into another. So I tried to go about my routine, as best I could. I went to class, swim team practice, then came home. 

I was apprehensive any time I stepped outside. I kept looking over my shoulder and flinching every time I heard a loud engine. But I never saw them. It went like that for several days and I began to hope that they would leave me alone and find someone else. Unfortunately that was not to be. As I got up four days after my last rape, I did my normal morning routine. As I was getting ready to leave, I heard a knock at my door. I answered it, not thinking anything about it. I then came face to face with a smirking Dan.

I stuttered out, "How did you get here?"

He laughed and said, "Oh, when Ben was busy fucking that sweet ass of yours for the second time Saturday night, I swiped your entry card from your wallet. I scanned it on our credit card reader. We usually use it for other things, but hey it worked. I then had a duplicate copy made and here I am. You happy to see me, boy?"

I was crestfallen. They now had complete access to my building, and my apartment. I didn't answer, so Dan continued, "Well, I am in desperate need of a hard morning piece of ass."

I felt my shoulders drop, as I continued to look at him. I was finally able to speak again, saying, "But I have to get to class. If I don't leave now, I'll be late."

Dan was unimpressed and said, "Well now, we can't have that. How about I fuck you hard, then give you a ride to school? That way you can enjoy the feeling of my cum in your ass all day long."

I began to plead and beg, saying, "Please. I can't do this again. I'm not gay. Please, not again."

Dan smirked as he said, "Oh, don't worry. None of the boys we like to fuck in the ass are gay. That's half the fun. Taking a cute straight little boy and fucking his ass against his will. Yeah, that's what we like. Now come on, you know its going to happen anyway. Or do you think you have a chance at getting away now?"

He then walked past me and into my apartment. I dropped my head and felt myself slump, as I realized I couldn't talk him out of this. I then shut my door and turned around to find him standing in the middle of my living room, unzipping his pants as he looked at me. He then said, "Ok, then. Come over here and take my dick out."

I did as he ordered and reached into his pants. I felt his hard cock and pulled it out of his pants. I then looked up at his face, wondering what was next. He smirked at me and said, "Well, it's going up your ass so I suggest you get it wet, unless you think you are up for me to shove it in your dry."

I then nodded resignedly and dropped to my knees. I then took his hard cock in my mouth and began to suck all along the shaft, using as much spit as I could to get it wet. I considered attempting to suck him off, but figured he would just make me keep sucking until I got him hard again so he could fuck my ass. So I just used my mouth and tongue to lube his big cock with my spit. As soon as he was satisfied, he pulled my face off of his cock and said, "Now drop your shorts and bend over. I need a tight ass to fuck."

I undid my shorts and pulled them and my underwear off. I was about to bend over the couch like last time, but he stopped me and just had me get on all fours on the floor. I felt his hard cock head press against my asshole. I then felt the usual steady pressure as he forced his cock into my asshole. I whimpered as I felt him continue pushing his hard cock all the way inside my ass, until he was all the way inside me. He then grabbed my hips and started to work his cock in a slow and steady pace in and out of my ass.

I was at least grateful that he started out slow, but I knew that wouldn't last. I was right. As soon as I thought that, he gripped my hips harder and began to really thrust his hard cock as fast as he could and as deep as he could into my ass. He moaned loudly saying, "Oh, yeah. I missed this tight asshole wrapped around my big cock. I bet you missed having my big cock shoved up your ass. I bet you felt empty without it. I figured I should give you a few days to relax, before I came a calling."

I didn't answer and he kept pounding my ass hard from behind. I felt his think leather pants smacking up against my ass cheeks every time he thrust into me. He was really fucking my ass hard. I briefly wondered how long he could keep this pace going before he came inside me. I knew that he usually only fucked me this hard at the end, when he was trying to cum fast. I guessed that he was in a hurry too. I was glad at least of that. I didn't need another several hour session of having my ass fucked deep and hard.

Dan's moans had grown loud now and his pace had steadily increased until he was thrusting up my ass as fast as he could. My whole body was shaking with the force of his fast and powerful thrusts. He now started to pull my ass back into his cock as he would thrust it into my ass. I remembered he only did this when he was about to cum. I was not wrong. His moans had grown so loud, that I was glad the walls were thick and soundproof. His hard cock was truly battering my insides. His thrusts had increased into a fevered pitch, until he finally slammed his cock deep into my insides and half moaned/half screamed. His cock then erupted in a river of cum pumping into my bowels.

I felt spurt after spurt of his hot cum as he filled my up. His cock was still buried in my ass, as he released his full load of man cum. He then pumped my ass a few times and jerked his cock shaft with his hard, to milk out any excess cum. I felt a few splashes of cum flow into my ass, before he pulled out completely. He then grunted and stood up. I looked back and saw him replacing his softened cock back into his pants, before zipping up.

He looked down at me and said, "Ok, boy. Time to go. Get your things and I'll give you that lift."

I quickly pulled up my underwear and shorts and grabbed my backpack. We then left my apartment and walked to the elevator. We rode down all the way to the lobby in silence. I kept my head down, as the doors opened and we walked out of the building. I was turning to walk the ten blocks to campus, when I felt a leather gloved hand on my shoulder stopping me. 

Dan said, "Seriously, I'll give you a lift."

I quietly said, "That's ok. I don't mind the walk." 

But Dan answered, "I insist. Climb on behind me."

Knowing I had no real choice, I followed him to his bike. He got on and started the engine. I then climbed on behind him. He then drove out of the parking lot and turned towards my campus. We arrived several minutes later. He dropped me off in front of my first class.

I quietly said, "Thanks for the ride."

He smirked and said, "Oh, I don't mind. I love having a cute piece of boy ass riding bitch on my bike. Besides, you gave me a ride this morning, so it's only fair I return the favor."

I nodded my head, and turned to go. I heard behind me, "I'll see you tonight though. You always get home on Wednesday nights at 7pm, right?"

I turned around shocked that he knew my schedule. I could only nod in answer. He smirked at me and said, "Good. I'll see you right after swim practice."

He then rode away. I turned and walked into my class in a daze. I was walking around like a zombie for most of the day, before I got myself together. I knew that Dan would be waiting for me tonight and that I could expect him to have me suck his cock and take him up my ass until he was done. I wondered how long he could go for. I knew he had cum three times Saturday night. Could he go more, tonight. I shuddered in fear. I again contemplated calling the police. They could catch him in my apartment and he could get some serious jail time for rape and breaking and entering (and not just breaking and entering my ass). But I realized that if I did that, I would have Ben to worry about. So that plan was out.

I accepted what was to come, as I finished getting dressed that night after swim practice. I was about to walk home, when I heard the sound of a motorcycle engine approach. I looked an saw Dan riding up. He stopped in front of me, and patted the back of the seat behind him. I guessed that he didn't want to wait for me to walk home. I reluctantly climbed on behind him and he drove us back to my place. We then walked to my apartment in silence. He grabbed my ass cheeks in the elevator and groped me all the way up.

We then exited the elevator at my floor and walked to my apartment. I let us in and he walked into my apartment like he owned it. He walked right into my bedroom and said over his shoulder, "Come on, boy. You have a hard cock to suck."

I followed him into the bedroom. I hated that he seemed to feel no compunction about using my own bed to rape me. I was offended, but knew that there was nothing I could do anyways. He then stood in the center of the room and ordered me to strip. I obediently stripped naked and stood before him. He then said, "Ok, now strip me, boy."

I reached up and unzipped his leather jacket, removing it. I then pulled his shirt over his head. I knelt down and removed both of his boots and socks. I reached up then and unzipped his pants. I pulled his pants down and realized that again we wasn't wearing underwear. I briefly wondered if he ever did. He stepped out of his pants, as I laid them aside. He then walked over and laid down on my bed on his back. His hard cock was sticking straight up and touching his stomach. I took a moment to at least be thankful that he wasn't overweight and didn't smell. 

He had laid his head on my pillows and was now looking at me, as he said, "Well, boy. Here's my cock. Come and suck it."

I crawled up onto my bed and grabbed his hard cock. I then opened my mouth and began to suck up and down his cock shaft. I was laying on my stomach, between his legs and slowly bobbing my head up and down as I worked my lips and tongue over his throbbing hard cock. Dan was more talkative than last time, saying, "Oh, yeah. That's a great mouth for sucking cock, you got there, boy. Play with my balls and jerk my cock while you suck me."

I complied and began to slowly jerk his cock and massage his balls, as I continued sucking his hard cock. I had settled into a kind of rhythm, when Dan said, "Now deep throat me, boy. Take my hard cock into your throat."

I complied and took his cock all the way into my throat and began to swallow around his cock head. I had my head all the way down on his cock, with my nose buried in his pubic hair and my chin resting on his balls. Dan was moaning loudly and enjoying my throat. He then said, "Ok, now just suck the head."

I pulled his cock out of my throat and concentrated on sucking and licking his cock head. Dan moaned again as I continued. I was sucking his cock head hard and running my tongue over his piss slit and around the crown. Dan then spoke again, saying, "Now back to the shaft and suck the whole thing."

I went back to bobbing my head up and down on his shaft, sucking as I went. I was still jerking his hard cock with one hand and massaging his balls with the other. Dan now added, "Now keep going between these ways. I want you to alternate as you suck my cock. Enjoy yourself, boy. You have a nice fat cock in your mouth."

I was not enjoying myself, but knew I didn't have a choice so I continued as he had instructed. I alternated between deep throating his hard cock, sucking his cock head, and then sucking his whole shaft. I was in my own little world as I continued sucking Dan's cock. I tried to think of anything else, but what I was once again being forced to do. I had been through this alternating techniques of sucking his cock and I was now on my third rotation of bobbing my head up and down as I sucking his whole shaft. Dan was moaning loudly and I felt his balls begin to draw up. I knew he would cum soon.

Dan began to moan out, "Oh, you suck cock so good, boy. Suck that hard cock. I'm going to cum right down your throat. I want you to keep sucking my cock until I get hard again. Then I'm going to fuck your tight asshole. I may even let you cum, when I'm fucking you up the ass. Won't that be nice, boy? Wouldn't you like to cum with my hard cock up your ass?"

I could not answer him. I was too busy still sucking his big cock. But in all honesty, I just wanted to hurry up and get this night over with. The faster I made him cum again and again, then the faster he would leave. I knew he would be fucking my as tonight, probably several times. That was a given. But I had no desire to cum. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking that I enjoyed this. I was busy bobbing my head up and down as I continued to suck his cock, as I was lost in my inner thoughts.

Dan suddenly moaned loudly and filled my mouth with his hot cum. I was shocked. Usually they thrust their cocks into my throat, when they came. That caused most, if not all, of their cum to simply flow down my throat and miss my mouth entirely. This time, he pumped load after salty load directly into my mouth. I had to close my eyes and really concentrate to swallow all of the man seed. I finally succeeded, and then continued to suck his cock. I felt a few more jets of cum fly from his cock, before he stopped. 

I then felt his cock begin to soften. I started to really work his cock in my mouth. I put all of my effort into getting him hard again, as fast as I could. I worked his cock shaft, then sucked hard on his cock head. I continued to jerk his cock with my hand as I massaged his balls. Dan laughed at my feverish pace of sucking his cock. He laughed, saying, "Oh, that's the way, boy. Work that cock. Make me hard again. I know you want it in your ass. Keep going like that, and I'll be hard again in no time."

I ignored his taunts, as I continued to suck his cock. "Just get hard again, fuck my ass as much as you want, then get out of my apartment" I thought hatefully.

I apparently did a good job, because I felt his cock twitch in my mouth. He then started to get hard again. "Finally," I thought. I continued sucking his cock, until he pulled my head off. I looked up at him, expecting to be told to get on all fours. But Dan smirked at me and said, "Now climb up here, and ride this cock, boy. I want you to learn to really ride a hard cock."

I climbed up onto him, until I was straddling his hips. I lowered my ass down and felt his cock head press against my asshole. Dan grabbed his cock and held it in place, as I lowered myself down on it. I was glad the cock was still wet with my cum, because I was able to take it all inside me easily. I continued to lower my ass down onto his cock, until I was sitting on his lap. I let myself get used to the feeling again. I then began to roll my hips forward and back, as I worked his cock in and out of my ass. Dan grabbed my hips and showed me how fast he wanted me to go. I placed my hands on his chest for better stability. 

Dan moaned as I picked up the pace of my hips, as he had showed me. I continued to Work his hard cock in and out of my ass. I liked this position better than doggie style. It seemed to make his cock really work prostate. I still hated doing this no matter what position, but at least this way I had some control over speed and depth. The thought hit me that I should feel bitter that Dan was making me work his cock, but considering how many times I have been forced to suck both he and Ben off, I didn't see the difference.

They were both rapists and they were using me for their pleasure. What difference did it really make if I was bent over and they were fucking me or I was riding their cocks? Either way I would still be forced to take their hard cocks up my ass. I pushed the inner monologue from my mind and just focused on hurrying up and getting him off, so he would leave. I began to rock my hips faster and faster. Dan moaned and gripped me tighter, as he enjoyed my ass. I heard his breathing increase and his moans grow in volume. I knew that soon he would cum.

I again wondered how many times he would fuck me tonight, and silently hoped he hadn't eaten oysters or taken any Viagra today. I had to force myself not to laugh at that last thought, as I continued to ride Dan's hard cock. I started to really slam my ass down onto his cock harder, as I continued to rock faster. This caused Dan to moan louder and thrust up into me. Dan then forced his eyes shut, as his whole body tensed up.

I felt his cock slam up into me. I then felt a flood of hot cum erupt from his cock and spray my insides. I rocked my hips more as I clinched my asshole around his cock. I knew he liked to milk his cock into me, and figured this should help. I felt his cock start to soften inside me, as I heard his breathing start to return to normal. I then slid off of his cock and sat quietly on my bed. I started going over what I would do once he left, and realized that along with a hot shower, I would also change the sheets. I didn't want to smell him when I slept. I was still offended that he had taken up residence in my bed.

I was lost in my own world and was staring at nothing, as I continued to go over my list of things to do after he left. I heard a chuckle from him. Looked over and saw him staring at me. I didn't speak. What was the point? If he wanted something, he would either tell me or he would just take it. What else could I expect from a rapist? He interrupted my thoughts by saying, "Boy, you certainly know how to ride a cock."

I didn't answer at first, but he seemed to be waiting for an answer, so I said bitterly, "Yeah, I had two guys show up here four days ago and raped me for several hours. One of them liked to have me do that."

That seemed to amuse him. He smirked at me and said, "Well, I could always throw you on the floor and rape your tight ass from behind."

I reminded him, "You have done that already and probably will again, anyways. Making me ride your cock, is no different than raping me in an alley. It's the same outcome either way. You want to fuck my ass, so you do."

That seemed to really amuse him. He continued smirking saying, "That's right. If I wanted to find a willing boy, I'd find one. I like to take, so does Ben. Best you just accept the fact that we intend to make a playground out of your asshole for the foreseeable future. Who knows, you might get to like it."

I sighed as I said, "I've come to accept it already. I can't fight you off. I can't run away. I obviously can't hide, if you already know where I go to school and when I come home. But, I doubt will get to like being fucked in the ass or sucking cock."

Dan moaned, as he enjoyed my submission. He flopped his head onto my pillow saying, "Just be glad that we are both somewhat playful. Ben even sucked you off the last time you rode my cock. You can't say you didn't like that. I felt your asshole tighten when you shot your load, I know you liked it. And Ben and I are already thinking of the fun we will have with you. We don't want to make your asshole too loose, that would take all the fun out of stuffing you full of our hard cocks if your asshole didn't have to stretch to take us in."

"Besides, all of this is moot. You don't have a choice, we know where you live, we know where you go to school, and we both like it when you beg for mercy. It turns us both on when you say we're too big, too long, or are too rough. That makes us want to fuck you even harder, just to hear you scream."

I shuddered at the thought of what he had said. Knew all of this already, having experienced it in the alley and on the couch. They both loved it when I didn't want to be fucked and they loved to hear be beg and plead. I remembered them stroking their hard cocks when I begged them not to fuck me on Saturday night. It just turned them on even more. Dan then said, "I like when a boy rides my cock. Ben does too, but he's so big that a boy needs to be really loosened up in order to take a ride on his massive meat. But, I'm sure you'll do just fine when you ride him. We also like to use leather straps to hold you down or keep you standing. It's hot seeing a boy all immobile and at our mercy. I can never decide whether to gag a boy or not. It's pretty hot to fuck a boy senseless when all he can do is muffle around a gag. But we both love to hear a boy scream for help or beg us to stop or go slower."




Why: Why Are You Here?



I shuddered again at the thought of being restrained as they fucked me. I wondered how many boys they had done this to. As if he pulled that thought form my head, Dan said, "We've been raping boys for years. We always have at least two that are available to fuck senseless. You might even meet one or two of them someday of Ben and I are feeling really frisky. Nothing like making two boys suck my cock. Having one looking on, as he watches us raping another boy. And knowing that he will be next. That look of fear is the stuff that makes me hard. Speaking of getting hard..."

I hadn't noticed, but Dan's cock was now fully erect. I guess all that talk of raping boys had an effect on him. I sighed as I guessed what was to happen next, I just didn't know how. Dan didn't waist any time, he quickly pushed me onto my back and crawled over to me. He positioned himself between my legs as he placed my legs on his shoulders. He then shoved his entire hard cock up my asshole. I let out sudden gasp, as I felt his hard cock slam into my ass.

Dan then set a grueling pace as he fucked my ass with my legs over his shoulders. He was able to go really deep into my ass in this position. I felt his hard cock slamming into my ass over and over again. My whole body was being shook by his powerful thrusts. I felt his cock begin to punch my prostate with every thrust. I felt my body experiencing the pleasure of having my prostate battered. I refused the urge to stroke my cock. I was not going to give him the satisfaction.

Dan was moaning, as he put all of his body weight into slamming his hard cock into my ass. I again felt my breath leave my body as a grunt, as the air was forced from my lungs by his deep and hard thrusts. Dan had a tight grip on my hips as he used them for stability. His thrusts were deep and hard, as he set a fast and deep pace of fucking my ass. My head was laying on the bed, as my body was bent in this new position for me. I could feel Dan's balls slap against my ass cheeks every time he would slam into my ass.

Dan was grunting and groaning. I hoped that this would be the last fuck of the night and that I could get rid of him afterwards. Dan's eyes were both closed and his face was contorted in concentration and pleasure, as he fucked my ass as hard as he could. Dan began to moan out, "Fuck, I like fucking your ass like this. Nice and tight. Gonna fill you up with my cum, boy. Uh, yeah. Take my hard cock in your boy ass."

I stayed quiet, except got the involuntary grunts of exhaling. Dan was really working himself hard as I could see him begin to sweat, I briefly hoped that he might have a heart attack and die. But I quickly decided against that. If he did die, I would have to explain what he was doing here naked. Plus I could tell he was in shape and without any excess fat. So I just stayed quiet and let him continue to rape my ass, yet again.

Dan was now covered in sweat and moaning loudly. I felt him pick up the pace of his thrusts into my ass. His cock was going faster than he had ever fucked me before. I knew that he would soon cum. I guessed that he was just trying to make it fast and hard. His moans had grown in volume and now his breaths were labored as he neared orgasm. My body was being powerfully shook by each of his hard thrusts. I felt my back moving against my sheets and hoped I wouldn't have any kind of rash or skin burn, as a result of this.

Dan now slammed his hard cock as deep as he could into my ass and moaned loudly, as I felt him once again flood my insides with his hot cum. I sighed quietly as I hoped he was done for the night. He pumped his cock a few times, as he milked his cum into me. He then slowly withdrew his cock from my ass. Without speaking he stood up and let my legs fall onto the bed. I just lay there silently, as I watched him begin to get dressed. I saw that his legs were a bit shaky as he pulled on his pants. 

He then turned to me and said, "Well, boy. Thanks for a lovely evening in your ass. I'll see you soon. I think next time I'll not be so gentle. I like it more when you beg and cry."

With that lovely image, he turned and walked out of my bedroom. I heard the front to door open and close. I waited a few minutes, then I stripped the bed and changed the sheets. I then took a hot shower. I was able to fall asleep quickly, as I tried not to wonder what was to come next. 



Why Are You Here?



Kelly smiled.

"I knew that you'd come around...I told them that you would." Kelly said.

"Wait...I forgot one little thing. I do have one condition that you have to meet in order to get me to agree to let you do it however." John said.

"What kind of condition?" Kelly asked.

"Oh its nothing really...all you have to do is sign these." John said.

John grabbed the divorce papers and put them in front of Kelly.

"If you sign these you'll be able to fuck any man you want...as many as you want...any time that you want. You just won't have my house and my bed to come home to after you've been fucked. You also won't have the car that I'm paying for, you won't have the credit cards that I'm paying for, and if you want to see the kids you'll have to have a court approved time to do so." John said.

Kelly looked at the divorce papers.

"You can't be serious." Kelly said.

"I'm very serious Kelly. I will not share you with other men sexually, and I will no longer share you with your friends either. I don't know what your past history with them is, but I do know that for the past 4 months they have owned you. They made it very clear at the barbecue that they all want you to have sex with other men. For all I know you've already been having sex with other men and you only want my permission so that you don't have to sneak around about it. I truly hope that isn't the case, but right now I have no reason to believe otherwise. If you truly do want to have sex with other men I won't keep you from it, but you will not be doing it as my wife. So go ahead and sign those papers. Hell, if you sign those papers right now I won't even consider it cheating for you to have sex with other guys during the 6 months it will take for everything to be finalized. Are you ready to walk away from what we have just for some strange cock? Remember...with the pre-nuptial agreement that we signed when we got married if we get divorced you will only have your $27,000 per year job with no alimony, and since I'll fight hard for full custody of the kids you might even end up having to pay me child support." John said.

John looked across the table at Kelly. She just stared at the divorce papers in silence for several minutes before her cell phone rang. She answered it.

"Hello?" Kelly asked in a hollow...distant voice.

"Hey...it's me...why the fuck didn't you tell him to fuck off and leave with us?" Lisa asked.

"Not now...I'm busy." Kelly said.

"Busy...what the fuck do you mean bus....." Lisa said before Kelly shut her phone off.

Kelly went back to looking at the divorce papers. After a few minutes her eyes filled up with tears.

"You would really destroy our family over this John?" Kelly asked.

"If you do this or have already done it you'll be the one that destroyed our family Kelly, I'll just be the one that cleans up the loose ends." John said.

Kelly sat for a few more minutes in silence.

"John." Kelly asked.

"Yes Kelly?" John asked.

"I'd rather cut off my own foot like in that SAW movie than sign these papers. I wanted to do it John, I wanted to do it so badly, but I was afraid that I might lose you because of it. I begged for your permission so that I would know that I could keep you and still do it." Kelly said.

"I could never be a part of something like that Kelly." John said.

"I know...I can see that now. I'm sorry John." Kelly said.

"I wish I could truly believe that Kelly." John said.

"I'll make you believe it...tell me what I can do to make you believe that I'm sorry." Kelly said.

"First off...you need to tell those bitches in our front yard that they can find some other woman to turn into a cheating slut." John said.

"Yes...yes of course...I'll tell them John. I'll never speak to them again." Kelly said.

"Secondly...spend time with the kids...for the past 4 months they've hardly seen you. They miss you...they keep asking 'where's mommy' at night." John said.

"Okay John...you're right...I haven't been spending nearly enough time with them lately. I'll make it up to them and to you John. Just please get rid of those divorce papers." Kelly said.

John looked at his wife...he could see in her eyes that she'd realized the error of her was and was going to change. He tore the divorce papers into little pieces and threw them in the trash.

"What do you say we take the kids to the park?" John asked.

"That sound like a wonderful idea." Kelly said.

They went to the park to start getting on with their lives.



Why Ask Your Rabbi?



In my freshman year at college, I found myself sitting beside a chubby young women in Psychology. She had large breasts, but the thing that intrigued me the most was the hair on her forearms.

********

She had furry arms...

Beth Kaplan wasn't very friendly at first, but I was persistent, and soon I was rewarded with a date. As I sat next to the plump young woman, I let my arm lie against hers on the arm-rest of the theatre, and the tingle of her hair against my arm made me hard.

I had already done the mental projection after closely observing Beth at class for the first month or so and had noted the following. 

She had a nice growth of hair on her forearms for a woman; not an extreme amount, but a good coating of dark brown fur that went from her elbows to her wrists. Beth also had a bit of down that resembled a faint side-burn of sorts as it went down the side of her face around her ear. She also had bushy eyebrows and a very rich and full head of curly hair.

My conclusion was that if I managed to get young Ms. Kaplan's clothes off, I was likely to find a very hairy woman under the garments. I foresaw a dense triangle of hair between her legs and hopefully a couple of rich jungles of fur under her pleasingly plump arms.

That was my ideal, and while I had been spoiled by hitting the jackpot on my first three attempts with Carol, Becky and Sienna, I was confident that I could keep my streak alive.

I hoped to find out about the young woman's underarms that first night, and did so, in the back seat of my car. While groping around under Beth's sweater, paying respect to her big breasts by kneading them from the outside of her armor-like brassiere, my hand 'accidentally' slipped up and over her torpedo before landing under her arm.

Sadly, for the brief seconds that my fingers were allowed to slide around her warm, moist armpit before she forced my hand out, I learned that instead of finding the thick tuft of hair under her arm that I had hoped for, what my fingers stroked was a coarse pocket of stubble.

I was not perturbed, because while my preference in women's armpits had been of the unshaven and natural variety, I found the presence of stubble and even 5 o'clock shadow intriguing as well.

As a sidebar to the story... Since even back in the 60's and 70's most women did shave their underarms, it was far more common to see girls armpits shaved than not, so I had begun to note the wide variety in the denseness and growth pattern of armpit hair.

I even got to make categories in my mind of the various patterns of hair growth, from the extremes of the women whose stubble filled the entire armpit to the ladies who had only a faint and narrow strip in the center of their underarms. Then there were the women who were in-between, with stubble that formed round, oval and diamond patterns.

Some of this was based on ethnicity, since I found that generally women with Mediterranean backgrounds had more hair under their arms than most women. The hair grew in a greater area and more densely as well, and in addition seemed to grow faster. Asian and Native American women seemed to be at the other end of the hair spectrum in my observations.

However, my studies were not scientific in any way, and although I was an avid observer, I didn't get to enjoy as many sightings as I would have liked. Therefore, as the saying goes, your experience may vary.

To those not so inclined to pay attention to such details, this intense scrutiny may seem strange, and maybe it is. Just like people who study anything intensely, be it the Civil War, model trains or stamps, the minutia only seems weird if your aren't into it. I am into armpits, and don't apologize for it. Saying and admitting that has made me more open to understanding other people's "fetishes".

Back to Beth's armpits... the presence of the stubble under her arm did not deter me. Quite the contrary, because while my fingers had only grazed under her arm for a brief period of time, what I did feel seemed to be quite abundant.

Seeing was believing, then as now, so on our next date I was determined to find out more. I did, but as strange as it may seem, it was a lot tougher to get at her underarms than it was her breasts, which she not only gave me access to but did everything possible to make it easy for me to lavish affection on them.

That was fine with me, since Beth had quite an pair on her. They were huge, and their size completely dominated Beth's upper torso, becoming even more impressive when she released them from their harness, a sturdy looking garment that was built for the heavy-duty work required of a 42DD bra that was completely packed with tit-flesh.

Beth clearly enjoyed having her breasts fondled and fussed over, and I enjoyed doing it as we made out on the couch, but as I sucked on the thick pegs of her nipples and licked the large pebbled aureola around them, I kept my eyes on the fold of her arm.

The moment that she lifted her fleshy arm, my own arm went to work, pushing up her limb with my forearm until I had moved her arm up to the back of the couch. And there it was, her plump underarm fully exposed, the pale whiteness coated by a sea of dark stubble that completely covered her armpit.

My mouth moved right away, and the second that my tongue made contact with the coarse damp bristle, Beth recoiled, squirming as she tried to lower her arm to avoid my oral assault.

"Tony," Beth whined as she struggled to lower her limb. "That's my armpit you're licking."

"I know," I told her. "What's wrong with that?"

"Ew!" Beth whined, and brought my face down to her breasts again.

This war of wills continued as we made out, and when I managed to work my way under her arm again Beth let me kiss the moist cove for a minute before squirming away.

"Maybe if I wasn't so hairy, it wouldn't be so bad," Beth suggested. "Besides, I haven't shaved since yesterday."

As I ran my thumb over the sharp bristle I tried to picture what Beth would look like in a few weeks, if this was the result of 24 hours neglect.

"I think it would be incredibly sexy if you didn't shave your armpits at all," I offered.

"Do you have any idea what I would look like?" Beth asked, and when I told her that I had a pretty good idea and was enjoying thinking about it, she continued. "I had a rash one time and couldn't shave for a week and omigod!"

"Wish I had been with you then, because I would have done something like this," I explained, leaning over and running my tongue over the length of her underarm, drawing a shiver from Beth but thankfully no sound effects of disgust along with it.

"I probably smell," Beth said when I suggested that it seemed that she liked what I had just done.

"No, you don't," I assured her, and while I had gotten rid of the deodorant with my licking and rubbing, her natural aroma was rather nice. "You smell and taste great, as a matter-of-fact."

That was as far as I got with Beth that night, getting rebuffed at my attempts to get into Beth's pants, as well as being unable for her to get into mine, but she agreed to see me the next night.

I found myself with Beth on my couch again, and this time to my surprise Beth was quite amiable to what I wanted to do, even raising her arm for me after taking her bra off. What I saw that night was not the stubble coated armpit of the previous evening, but a shaved one, freshly mowed by Beth just before I had picked her up.

It wasn't smooth, because even though Beth had just shaved a couple of hours earlier there was a noticeable five o'clock shadow already, and when my tongue slid around I could feel the sandpaper-like surface.

Different, but quite interesting as well, and if it wasn't for the abundance of deodorant Beth had applied for the occasion it would have been better.

"I wanted to make it nice for you," Beth said, seeming to be a bit hurt when I mentioned her having shaved.

"I was fine with you just like you were," I told her, adding that I also thought she was sexy this way too.

"Because I kinda liked what you did last night," Beth confessed, throwing back her curly brown hair with a turn of her head. "I thought that if I wasn't self-conscious about being so hairy that I would have liked it even more."

I found myself getting into Beth's almost smooth underarms a lot, and as I kept massaging her breasts while nibbling her armpits, her breathing kept getting louder and more rapid. Just when I was about to make my move, Beth spoke.

"What me to - you know? Play with you too?"

I probably sounded like a elated puppy at that, because my cock was so jammed up in my pants that it wasn't funny. Much to my surprise, Beth's hands did not go to my jeans, but instead took the bottom of my shirt and lifted it up over my head.

I was stunned when Beth had me lift my arm. This was the last thing I had expected to happen, but there Beth was, giggling as she toyed with the thin wisp of hair under my arm.

"Wish my underarms were like yours. You hardly have any hair at all" Beth opined, gently pulling on the sparse growth. "If I do this wrong, tell me."

With that, I sat there stunned as Beth leaned forward and began to kiss my armpit. It tickled at first, but I stifled my giggle and looked at Beth in wide-eyed wonder as she began to lick my armpit, mimicking what I had been doing to her.

"This okay?" Beth asked, and I nodded, because not only was it okay, it was driving me crazy.

I leaned over across Beth's body and buried my face in her armpit, in part to stifle the noise that I was about to make, because I was cumming. The tight fit of the underwear against my cock as I had squirmed, as well as Beth's eager licking, had done me in, so I licked away while masking the sounds of me cumming.

********* 

That was a new experience...

Getting my own armpits licked, and after Beth did that I realized why the women I had done it to so far had enjoyed it so much. After you got past the initial sensation, which is sort of like a tickle, it becomes every sensual. Maybe in my case, where I have so little hair under my arms, the feeling is magnified, but whatever the reason I found it an intense experience.

After that night, I managed to convince Beth to stop shaving her armpits for me. This lasted for a week, until finally that next Sunday night after going out, I got Beth's top off and saw that instead of seeing her underarms coated with a sea of tiny hairs, they had reverted to the sand-papery look.

"What happened?" I asked, hurt that my little project had been derailed.

"It didn't seem right," Beth said. "Everything about our relationship seemed to be centered on this one thing."

"So?" I asked.

"I asked my Rabbi, and he..."

"You asked your Rabbi?" I asked.

"Yes, and he had me talk to his wife about it. She explained to me that I was being objectified and you were only using me to satisfy your desires," Beth declared. "She said that a couple should have a variety of interests. Besides, she said that she had never heard of a couple doing things to each other's armpits and thought that what you were doing to me was sick."

"What we were doing to each other," I reminded her.

"And that makes it even worse."

"That you liked it?"

"Yes, but that was wrong," Beth said. "She said that there's a slippery slope down the road to perversion."

"I think the slippery slope is more about her road to insanity," I said. "She sounds batty. What's the harm in what we were doing? We haven't even had sex yet," I reminded her, only using our hands on each other to date.

"It's all about my being Jewish, isn't it?" Beth decided, being fond of that as a reason for every disagreement from politics to music.

"I don't give a damn about religion," I said, and I didn't. 

I just wanted to have fun. It wasn't like we were madly in love or anything. Just two people enjoying each other. So despite enjoying her enormous knockers, it wasn't worth getting into this kind of discussion. 

And in the end she was right in her way. A real relationship has to consist of more than one thing in common. I had little interest in Beth outside of her armpits and our armpit play, so we ended our relationship that night.

********

thanks for reading



Why be Yellow



I met Kevin for the first time at the mall; but that was not the first time I had seen him. No, I have been secretly watching him for five years. Call it stalking him if you wish, I don't care. Hell, at first I didn't even know his name.

He was just one of the crowd.

Anyway, there he was, just hangin' out in a store with his friend's Carl and Jerry. They all looked at me when I went up to him, told him I was crazy about him, and quietly asked if he was into guys. He didn't really give me an answer but the look he shot me told me he did. So ... I made a bold move, I offer to pay the lady at the counter for his purchase if he would come home and have dinner with me. And then, not caring that his friends heard, I dropped the bomb, and asked if he would like to maybe have sex with me afterwards.

The smile on Jerry's face said, without saying, that if Kevin didn't he sure would. I hated to turn him down, he was cute as hell too, but it was the tallest of the three I was after. Still ... for a moment I did consider a threesome. 

Maybe next time.

The drive home had me almost frantic. The car was hot, despite the air-conditioning and I was sweating bullets. I kept looking over at Kevin in the passenger seat. He looked so adorable I wanted to peal him out his clothes like he was a banana. By the time I turned the car into the driveway I was painfully hard just from thinking about what was coming. I took Kevin inside and didn't even make it past the front door before I was kissing him.

When my lips touched his for the very first time I knew it was love. Passion-blinded love. The kind you see in movies. The bright lights, the big screen, the epic drama type moves. I needed him then in the worst way.

"Let's skip dinner," I said, taking his gloved hand. I laughingly hauled him into my bedroom down the hall, and I let him tumble onto the bed while I stood there looking down on him. I smiled at the look on his face and began to strip out of my clothes. When my shorts dropped to the floor I know he was looking at my cock, judging if I was going to hurt him. I knew from watching him all these years that he had been hurt many times. By people he worked for, friends, even people that cared for him always seemed to hurt him. But not me ...

I stopped when I realized the lie I was telling myself. I was going to have to hurt him, I was and I wanted to cry like I was a school girl because of that. In a despicable way, I would ruin him like no one before him ever had. I was going to ... oh god, I couldn't even think about it. I loved him too much, how could I?

Just do it, don't think.

With tears streaming down my face, I went to my nightstand and got my knife. Before I could stop myself I turned and plunged the blade into Kevin's crotch! A perfect thrust. The blade fell from my fingers though as I saw his expression. 

"Oh god, what have I done. I'm so sorry! Kevin forgive me please, I had to." Looking down at the hole I had just made I felt the tip of my cock twitch and then a thick drop of precum feel to land on the sheets. "I just had to."

Shaking, I licked my lips tasting the salt of my tears. 

Pouncing on him suddenly, I pressing him to the bed, grabbing him and forced his legs open wider than they were really meant to go. Then I felt it, the hole, touching the head of my cock. With a scream of pure pleasure I drove my whole hard length into Kevin. Into the very hole I had made. Oh ... bliss! Sweet bliss. The silky feeling of those thousands of tiny beads running along my cock, it was heaven. No pussy I had ever tried beat this feeling. Pulling back, I gave a second harder thrust. So hard I gasped when I hit his blue denim overalls with my bare belly. Again and again I thrust. Harder and harder, deeper and deeper! Sweat was dripping off my chin as I fucked Kevin, dropping from me onto him. 

I looked down at the "V" of his short legs and at my cock disappearing into him. Then I saw it, the white mess plastering my cock, lower stomach and thighs.

"OH, KEVIN ...YES!"

With a cry that tore at my throat I sprayed my cum deep into the thousands of tiny, white , Styrofoam balls, filling my yellow lover with my cum, in a seemingly desperate attempt to replace all of these sexy micro-orbs of love that he had sprayed out onto me. Panting for breath, I sat up and looked down to see that I was covered with his sexual essence.

"Oh, Kevin ... I love you so much." Lying down next to him, I leaned in and gave him a soft kiss. Despite my hard-use of him, he gave no protest when I cuddled up next to his gorgeous yellow head, and fell into a sexually exhausted sleep. 

Content with the world. 



Why Black Girls Love Black Guys



The things I've done this summer would shock even the most seasoned porn star. My name is Trisha Brown and I'm a six-foot-tall, heavyset, wide-hipped and big-bottomed, dark-skinned ( and proud ) young Black woman living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. I'm having the time of my life in the summer of 2009. After my freshman year at Dalton College ended, I wanted to get my party on. I'm the kinkiest Black woman on the planet and you'll soon find out why.

I hooked up with this really sexy Black stud named James Kane. He's around six-foot-three, broad-shouldered and kind of chubby but handsome, with dark brown skin and short hair. He's the new captain of the Dalton College men's varsity wrestling team. James is a fine-looking brother that all the chicks on campus wanted. Especially after he helped represent the United States of America at the Olympics last year. 

Dalton College is a school like no other. Located in the heart of Boston, it has eleven thousand students, thirty nine percent of whom are of African-American, Hispanic and Asian descent. The school is unique for having a student body that's fifty two percent male, especially in an age where young men are minorities on college and university campuses nationwide. Our athletics are top notch, we field Division One teams in men's and women's Basketball, men's Baseball, women's Softball, men's and women's Cross Country, men's and women's Volleyball, men's and women's Soccer, men's Wrestling, coed Rowing, coed Archery, men's and women's Track & Field, men's and women's Swimming, men's and women's Rugby, men's and women's Gymnastics, men's and women's Ice Hockey, men's and women's Alpine Skiing, women's Field Hockey, men's and women's Bowling, men's and women's Rifle, men's Football and women's Equestrian.

I'm a dedicated member of the Dalton College women's varsity Rugby squad and I absolutely love it. James is a rugby fan, that's how we met. We've been inseparable ever since. Even though he's a junior and I'm a freshman, we totally clicked. That's why we went on vacation together. James is originally from Maine, one of the whitest states in America. He fell in love with Boston and its amazing diversity. I took him home with me to Brockton, an even more racially diverse city, so we could have ourselves a good time.

James Kane liked the city of Brockton right away. Located half an hour from Boston, Brockton is a major city with a population of one hundred thousand people. This makes it one of the biggest towns in the state of Massachusetts. Also, it's got the greatest amount of ethnic diversity in New England. Fifty two percent of Brockton's population are people of African-American, Hispanic, Cape Verdean, Asian and Middle-Eastern descent. James grew up in the town of Harmony, deep in the state of Maine. He went to an all-white high school and was thrilled when Dalton College offered him an athletic scholarship and the chance to be around his own people for a change.

I took James to the Westgate Mall and the Marciano Stadium, along with George Keith Park. Three of my favorite hangouts in my city. The two of us had a blast. We were just a young collegiate Black couple in love. Life looked good to the both of us. My man had represented our country in the sport of wrestling. The entire world knew his name and face. Folks, I was dating a celebrity and loving every minute of it. I don't mean to sound superficial but it's really cool to date a young Black man whom millions of people respect and admire. Usually guys like that are professional athletes but James was just a college guy who made good. And being with him meant that I was the envy of many young Black women I knew. I love him for who he is, of course, but his being famous is really cool.

James and I basically humped every free moment we got in my apartment. Let me tell you about some of our wildest times. James is really into anal sex. Well, so am I. I absolutely love it when he puts me on all fours, spreads my plump ass cheeks wide open and shoves his long and thick Black cock deep into my asshole. James really knows how to pump a sister's ass full of dick, folks. I love the feel of his big Black dick inside my asshole. A long time ago, I discovered anal sex while masturbating by thrusting a sleek dildo into my pussy while fingering my asshole. Over the years, I've shoved bigger objects up my asshole. First, slim dildos, then big cucumbers and finally, my boyfriend James Kane's long and thick Black cock.

I grit my teeth as James thrusts his dick into the forbidden depths of my tight asshole. As his cock fucks my ass, I finger my pussy and taste myself. Oh, man. I am so wet down there it's not even funny. James grunts sexily as he fucks my ass. We go at it until he finally shoots his cum deep into my asshole. I scream like a woman possessed as I feel the rush of his hot manly seed deep inside of me. Hot damn. If loving anal sex is wrong, then this big beautiful young Black woman definitely does not want to be right!

James slowly pulls his member out of my ass and I wince, suddenly feeling a bit empty. We rest a bit, then we are at it again. This time, it's his turn to get fucked. I don my favorite strap-on dildo and make him get on all fours. The only thing I love more than getting my ass fucked is fucking someone else in the ass. James readily assumes the position. I come up behind him and lubricate his ass before taking him. I push the dildo into his ass, slowly. James grimaces as I penetrate him. Slowly but surely, I work most of my dildo deep into his ass. He's screaming as I fuck him. Oh, man. I am absolutely loving this. The power I feel while sodomizing my favorite big and tall Black man with my strap-on dildo is more than intoxicating. I daresay it's addictive!

Yeah, we're having a good time as I fuck James in the ass with my strap-on. I love doing this to him. Almost as much as he loves taking me. I do this because I want to and because I love him. We're very open-minded sexually and that's part of the reason why we're so happy together. We suck and fuck the evening away, and daylight finds us wrapped in each other's loving arms. What can I say? We're very happy together!



Why Black Guys Love Black Women



Human beings complain about a great many things. Life, love, health, beauty, intelligence, money, sex, power, social status and countless other things. I think that far too often, we're not thankful for what we have. Most people only appreciate what they have when it's somehow taken away. My name is Patrick Hautte-Terre and this tale is about what I'm thankful for.

I live in the West Side of Brockton, Massachusetts. A city with a population of one hundred thousand people, fifty two percent of which are of African-American, Hispanic, Asian, Cape Verdean and Middle-Eastern descent. I'm a certified public accountant and I make decent money. My family lives in a six-bedroom duplex with two bathrooms, a living room, six closets and two kitchens. I'm happily married. My wife Elisa is a Professor of Sociology at Emerson College. We have three sons and two daughters. I'm the proudest daddy ever, folks. I'm forty one years old, and I'm a Black man of Haitian descent living in the United States of America. 

I met my wife Elisa Blanchard when we were both freshmen at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst. Back then, I was playing Division One football while majoring in accounting and she was the lady who caught the attention of this former player ( on and off the field) and made his heart jump. Elisa Blanchard was a true Black American Princess, folks. The daughter of famed Haitian-American attorney Eli Blanchard and public schoolteacher turned women's fiction author Myra Thorne Blanchard, she grew up in the wealthy Black enclave of Oak Bluffs in Martha's Vineyard. This gal was true royalty. A lot of the brothers on campus wanted her, but my six-foot-three, 230-pound, Hershey-toned body and male model's face pretty much guaranteed me her attention.

Yeah, I wanted to get me some of Elisabeth's brown sugar. Of course, at the time I wasn't quite ready for serious romance. My life was kind of complicated. On the surface, I was leading the kind of life many people dream of. I was playing college football for a really big school. My grades were really fine. And I had the respect and admiration of my peers. That's my public life. Privately, I was in hell. I was getting over this blonde-haired white chick named Nicole Wilson who was very jealous and quite demanding. Her mother and father were a couple of racist pricks who let me know in no uncertain terms what they thought of interracial romance. I dumped Nicole shortly after meeting her parents. I didn't need that kind of drama. She thought she could change their minds but I know bigots don't change. 

Right after ditching Nicole and swearing never to date white chicks again, I hooked up with this fine-looking Jamaican brother named Saul Jones. He was on the UMass-Amherst men's varsity basketball team and he was hot as hell. Saul was the kind of guy many on campus envied. He was a shoo-in for the NBA Draft come senior year, having made NCAA records on the court. Nobody could outshoot this brother in the Big East. A lot of out-of-state schools tried to recruit him after he graduated from Brockton Community High School but he chose UMass-Amherst instead. And he helped us reach the NCAA Finals in our conference. Yeah, he was all that and then some. Publicly, Saul dated a fine-looking Haitian student named Jacqueline Joseph but privately, he embraced yours truly.

Saul and I had a great time on the down low. Nobody knew about our thing and we liked it that way. At the same time we were sleeping together, I started flirting with the lovely Elisa, my future wife. What I didn't know was that my future wife and I had a lot more in common than I could have imagined at the time. The whole world knows about down low brothers, men who identify as straight yet have sexual relations with other men. These men often have wives and girlfriends. Most of the time, their friends and families have no idea that they swing both ways. Keep in mind that this was the early 1990s, the down low wasn't a widely known phenomenon the way it is today. So imagine how stunned I was when Elisa told me that she knew I swung both ways. Wow. I was shocked, son. Word up.

As you can imagine, I was surprised. In my panic, I tried to deny it. Elisa simply smiled and told me that she knew I was bisexual because she'd been watching me. I was beyond shock at this point. What did she mean by that? Smiling, she confessed to the whole shebang. She had been watching me for some time, the handsome Black college football star whom all the chicks on the UMass-Amherst campus wanted. She knew why I broke up with that blonde heifer, Nicole, and how she got me to swear off white women for good. Also, she knew about me and Saul kicking it. Yeah, the top men on the football and basketball teams at one of America's biggest universities were bisexual. Now that was a shocker. I stared at her and calmly asked her what she wanted. Grinning, Elisa told me that she wanted a piece of my action.

To say that I was surprised by her proposal would have been the understatement of the century. I must say that I was intrigued. Since Elisa was holding all the cards, I was in no position to refuse her. Thus, she and I became fuck buddies. She was a very unusual woman. I'd never heard of women who liked watching men having sex with other men. I certainly knew plenty of men who liked watching women doing women but the reverse had me stunned. Elisa was totally into bisexual men, something I found shocking since most Black women I know don't like Black guys who swing both ways. Elisa wanted me and she didn't mind my being bisexual. She found it kind of hot.

So I continued to have my fun with my lover Saul Jones. And why shouldn't I? The brother had a great-looking body and a ten-inch monster of a cock. One night, we hooked up in the deserted men's locker room after a big game. Saul just put me on all fours and made me suck his dick before shoving it right up my ass. The brother really knows how to lay pipe, folks. He slammed that dick inside of me like ass fucking was going out of style. Sometimes, he fucked me so hard I had tears in my eyes afterwards. And he not only knew how to give it, he also knew how to take it. Saul loved riding my long and thick, uncircumcised Black dick. He would lay me on the floor with my dick sticking up and impale himself onto my member before riding me like a bucking bronco. I loved fucking that tight ass of his and make him scream. Yeah, we knew how to have a good time.

Elisa knew how to rock my world too. At the time, most of the Black college women I knew were really chaste types. They didn't give up the draws too quickly, and many brothers on campus were frustrated. That's why we chased the white chicks and the freaky Hispanic broads. They were always easy to get into bed. Elisa was quite different. One time, we hooked up in her dorm while her roommate was sleeping. It was one for the ages. Elisa sat me down on the bed and knelt before me. She sucked my cock and balls like they were sugar cubes. Afterwards, I put her on all fours and slammed my dick into her pussy like it was going out of style. Elisa was one freaky Black mama. She's also the first woman I had anal sex with. I didn't know lots of Black women who were into anal. Elisa was one of them.

I mean, I couldn't believe she was into this stuff but I liked it. Elisa was always eager to get on all fours and spread her ass cheeks for me. And I loved sliding my dick in and out of this beautiful Black woman's tight asshole. Fucking a Black woman in the ass, now that's many brothers unfulfilled dream. Yeah, I tapped that ass in every way, folks. Elisa liked getting ass fucked more than most gay and bisexual men I know. Weird, huh? And Elisa still had some more freaky stuff she wanted to try with me. Would you believe this crazy Black woman convinced me to let her stick a strap-on dildo up my ass? I tried it and to my great surprise, I actually liked it. From that moment on, Elisa fell in love with my ass. She loves to strap it on and fuck me. And I've grown to love it when she puts me on all fours and shoves her dildo deep into my ass. Gets my dick hard just thinking about it. Yeah, we had some crazy fun.

And that's the way life went. For the remainder of my college days, I played football and had some seriously hot sex with Saul Jones and Elisa Blanchard. Folks, the two of them wore me out. I introduced Elisa to Saul and the two of them got along fine, in spite of some initial discomfort on both sides. Once, we even had a steamy threesome but that's a story for another time. Saul Jones entered the NBA Draft and went on to play for the Boston Celtics, and later the Los Angeles Clippers. He's retired now, and lives in a huge mansion in Beverly Hills with his wife, a famous Black actress, and their three sons. I guess it pays to be a multi-millionaire. He's now a basketball coach at UCLA and occasionally does the sports commentator thing on ESPN.

As for me, I entered the NFL Draft and played for about three years. I made about four million, and wisely invested it. When my professional football playing days ended, I returned to UMass-Amherst and earned my master's degree in accounting. Elisa and I got married and bought a big house in Brockton. We have a big, healthy and happy Black family and life is good. My wife and my offspring know that I'm bisexual and it doesn't bother them. I'm a family man, and I believe in telling the truth to the people I love. Life is good. 



Why Black Love is Eternal



I see a lot of weird stuff going on these days. Especially in the Black community. When I moved from the town of Boston, Massachusetts, to the city of Ottawa, Ontario, I was in for a shock. I knew Canada was different from the U.S. but I never thought the strangest folks in Canada would be my fellow Blacks. The name is Stephen Saint Preux and I approve this message. I'm a young Black man of Haitian descent currently living in Ottawa, Ontario. I attend Carleton University. I was born in Boston and I consider myself a proud Son of Bean Town. I miss it dearly these days, especially since Ottawa is turning out to be far less peaceful than I imagined.

Black folks in Canada mystify me, folks. They really do. The ones I meet in Ottawa are a weird bunch. And they don't like each other. Most Black Canadians I meet come from Continental Africa. Lots of Somalians, Djibouti, South Africans, Ghanaians, Ethiopians, Zimbabweans, Sudanese and so on. And they don't get along with Black folks from the Caribbean islands like the Jamaicans, Haitians and Trinidadians. I wish Black Canadians would get over their differences. There is a lot of racism at work in the capital region of Canada. Black Canadians should unite against the perils of discrimination rather than focus on their petty differences. Especially since they're seen as all the same in the eyes of the Powers That Be.

In Ottawa, I've lost count of how many Black men and Black women I've met with degrees from fine schools like Carleton University, the University of Ottawa and Algonquin College...who find themselves unemployed. They've got no criminal history for the most part. They've got good references. Why can't they get jobs? It's because of systemic discrimination. This is where Black Canadians and African-Americans differ. Black Canadians refuse to unite against those who wish their communities harm. Black lawyers in Canada don't support other Black lawyers. Black police officers don't band together. Neither do Black firefighters or Black teachers. So when the bigots come calling, each Black person in Canada is alone against the dark side. That's not right. That's not fair. Something should be done about this.

I think I know the source of Black Canadians lack of progress. They don't love themselves, or each other. Black ladies in America wear T-shirts that say "My Black is Beautiful". I've yet to see a single Black lady in the city of Ottawa with such a T-shirt on. Black women in Ottawa don't read positive Black magazines like Black Enterprise, Essence or Ebony. But they read magazines that cater to White women like Chatelaine. Wow. I like Black Canadian women. I just wish they loved themselves more. Black Canadian men seem programmed to chase only non-Black women. What the heck? I've seen Black men in America date interracially but in the city of Ottawa, Black men seem to only date women of other races, never Black women. What's wrong with these brothers? I don't get it. Black Canadian women are uniquely beautiful. I respect their strength, their beauty and their kindness. I wish Canadian society, and Black men, appreciated them more. 

I have a deep abiding respect for Black women. I cannot thank them enough for standing by us Black men as we went through hell. And we still go through hell. For those Black guys out there who are obsessed with blonde-haired White chicks, they should really ask themselves who has had their back from day one. Seriously. Now, I'm not against interracial dating. I see both sides of it. I see a lot of Black men with White women. I also see quite a few Black women with White men. My only issue with Blacks who like to date interracially is that they often do it for all the wrong reasons. Lots of young Black men tell me they date White women because they find Black girls too hard to deal with. And lots of Black women who date White men tell me they think Black men are all a bunch of losers and they are dating up by going out with a White male. Wow. Hatred of your own race cannot be a good reason to date interracially. People with hatred in their heart often make lousy partners for men and women of any race.

I really wish more Black men saw Black women in the same light I do. Seriously. I was once wet at a bus stop in the city of Ottawa ( it was raining heavily ) and it's a young Black woman who offered to share her umbrella with me. I fell off a subway platform in New York City and a Black woman and her husband pulled me through. A Black female teacher named Miss Claire saved me from the waters of a raging river during a school field trip gone horribly wrong when I was much younger. And the list goes on. Black women do all kinds of things for Black men. My brothers, no one can love us more. Black women are the only human beings on the planet who don't switch sidewalks when they see Black men coming at night. You could be the thug brother, the college student or the hard-working brother in the business suit. White folks along with Asians, Arabs and Indians will look at you funny. And they will switch sidewalks. Or brace themselves for trouble. Black women don't see us as monsters. They see us as their brothers, fathers, grandfathers, cousins, friends and lovers. We should love them for this. Abandoning them for women of other races isn't right. 

Black men's habit of exclusively chasing women of other races has gotten so extreme that Black women are starting to chase men of other races as if to prove a point. Now, I know lots of Black men genuinely fall in love with White women. And some Black women genuinely fall in love with White men. However, most of the others seem to date interracially out of frustration with members of the Black race. Newsflash to my Black men and Black women who date interracially out of anger at the Black race, you can't escape being Black just by having someone White as your girlfriend or boyfriend. Sorry to shatter your damn illusions. Someone's got to tell you the awful truth.

I recently sat on a bus and this pretty Black lady came in with this okay-looking White male. She was dressed professionally, and the White guy looked like a construction worker. I've got nothing against construction workers but let's just say they seemed mismatched. I thought all that but I kept it to myself. Three young White women sitting on the bus kept looking at the rugged White male construction worker holding hands with the pretty Black lady in the business suit. They started giggling and talking among themselves. I overheard the phrases "another case of jungle fever" and "damn that ghetto whore". That got me pissed. Now, as a Black man who loves Black women, I'm never exactly thrilled to see a pretty Black lady with some White guy. Especially since these Black women usually treat their White boyfriends like princes but treat well-meaning and caring Black men like dirt. However, I'm not going to stand by and let some racist White women insult a Black female. Even if she is one of those Black women who desert Black men for men of other races. She's still technically family. 

The Black lady looked sad and angry that these racist young White women didn't approve of her relationship with the White guy. For his part, the White guy said nothing. If the racist remarks made by the White women bothered him, he didn't show it. He just kept smiling. Apparently, his Black girlfriend getting insulted by racist White women isn't something that gets him riled up as a White male. Oh, well. What kind of man is he? I stood up and told the racist White women where to stuff their bigotry. Someplace where the sun doesn't shine. They seemed surprised. Racist White folks in Canada are used to docile Black Canadians, not tough-talking Black Americans like me. The White chicks called me something I won't repeat here and left the bus. I sat down and smiled. Everybody on the bus looked at me silently. The White male with the Black girlfriend shot me a disgusted look. The Black woman looked at me with surprise in her eyes. I just smiled and got off at the next stop. Canadians are funny, man. They love to call the cops on a Black man when he stands up to racists. And the cops never side with him. I switched buses because I wanted to get home safe.

What did I learn from this interlude? What I've always known. I love Black women. Even those Black women who think all Black men are useless and worship White men as Knights in Shining Armour. Folks, I wish Black men loved Black women more. And I wish Black women could see that most Black men are trying hard to be the good men we know we can be. Not all of us are into White chicks. Most of us love Black women. Not all of us are thugs. Most of us are law-abiding individuals. We get a collective bum rap because of the mistakes made by a few brothers, that's all. I know many Black men will continue to chase White women like their lives depend on it. And it saddens me. Just like many Black women, fed up with Black men, are chasing White men like moths chase the proverbial flames. That's a sad state of the affairs. Seriously.

While clashes over interracial dating plague the Black communities of North America, what Black folks fought many centuries to achieve is threatened. In Europe, there is an anti-immigrant sentiment. Africans along with Arabs and Asians are the targets of populist hatred and xenophobia in many European countries. In the United States of America, anyone who isn't White is targeted by the anti-illegal immigration raids. In Canada, they're tightening the rules on immigration. Wow. It seems Caucasians worldwide feel threatened by people of color, especially Blacks, and they're trying to make life hard for all of us. In the State of Arizona, they're taking away Black History Month along with Martin Luther King Day. Maybe that doesn't bother Black women with White boyfriends/husbands or Black men with White wives/girlfriends but it bothers me. 

I don't want to see Black History Month become a thing of the past. I don't want to see Martin Luther King Day taken away as a national holiday. I want what Black folks of past generations achieved to be celebrated. I want the Black community to survive. Sadly, Black men are deserting Black women to be with White women. Black women are dealing Black men a backlash by chasing White men like their lives depend on it. Meanwhile, civil rights of all Black folks in North America and abroad are threatened. Xenophobia is on the rise in Europe. Maybe Europeans and Americans will start rounding up immigrants who don't look White and herd them into camps like they did the Jews during the 1940s. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if those terrible things came to pass. Yet ordinary Black folks living in North America can't see that their very lives are in peril. They buy into the anti-Black propaganda that the White media is spreading. Black men shouldn't desert Black women. I didn't notice any White women dying at the hands of racist rednecks in America during footage shown of clashes between civil rights activists and racist White folks. Maybe because they don't love Black men enough to stand with them against racist White folks? Black men, let's not desert our sisters. Let's love them instead. Black women, remember that us Black men, though not perfect, suffered with you in the darkest of times. The Black goddess is the average Black man's standard of beauty, whether he acknowledges it or not. Case in point? Black men who date outside seek women with curvy bodies, large breasts and big butts. Special features commonly found in the Black community! See? Even when a Black man claims he isn't into Black women, he's seeking their equivalent but can't find it!

Folks, it's not secret that I have my doubts about the veracity of interracial love whether it's Black male/White female or Black female/White male. However, I know many of my brothers and sisters won't stop doing it. So, I've got a proposition for them. Test your White partner. Take him or her in a place where you will be confronted by racist White folks. Let them verbally or physically threaten you. Watch your White partner's reaction. Only then will know you if the White male or White female who claims to love you means it or not. Also, Black guys with White girlfriends who tolerate these White women's disparaging remarks about Black females should be ashamed of themselves. A White female with a Black boyfriend or Black husband who makes racist remarks about Black women isn't worth it. Likewise, Black women with White boyfriends or White husbands shouldn't tolerate them if they make racist remarks about Black men. Bigotry is bigotry. If they hate members of your race, then someday they will turn against you. You can't count on being the exception in a racist's book. Sorry. 

Yeah, all the things I saw in Canada made me sick. And I was disgusted with the hatred Black folks had for their own race. I decided to fly solo and focus on school. I aced my classes at Carleton University. As a tall, good-looking Black man with an American accent, I stood out on campus. The Canadians were mystified by me. I kept my own company. I wasn't interested in anyone. I nurtured friendships with several Black men and Black women I thought were cool. To meet my criterion of coolness, they had to be smart, self-confident, and in relationships with Black individuals of the opposite sex. Otherwise they weren't worth knowing. Thus I befriended Lamar O'Neill, a tall Black man of Jamaican and Irish descent. He's an engineering student at Carleton University. And he's dating a gorgeous Ethiopian lady named Mara Mohammed, a business student at the University of Ottawa. Through them I met Eric Donkor, a young Black man from Ghana studying medicine at Carleton University and his lovely girlfriend Sierra Jones, a Black female student at York University hailing from North London, England. I loved my new friends. To me they represented the future of the Black communities of North America. Black men and Black women who were University-educated, ambitious and driven. And above all else, they loved their own. I respected and admired them. They had what I always wanted. What Barack Obama and Michelle have. What Will Smith and Jada have. Black Love.

Yeah, I loved hanging out with my new friends. They took me to the city of Toronto and I learned that I might have misjudged Black Canadians. Black folks in the city of Toronto hold their heads high. They're not meek or docile like Black folks in the city of Ottawa. And they remind me of my fellow African-Americans. Toronto is home to about two hundred thousand Black folks. Ottawa only has a few thousands. Black Torontonians work as police officers, firefighters, corporate executives and lawyers. Black residents of Ottawa wait tables and mop floors. What a difference in these two cities! It's in the city of Toronto that I met my future bride. The answer to my prayers. A tall, gorgeous and absolutely brilliant young Black woman named Magdalene Armand. Daughter of Haitian immigrants who've been in Toronto since the late 1970s. This sexy Black Canadian woman is one of the brightest students in the civil engineering program at the University of Toronto. 

When I first laid eyes on Magdalene, she took my breath away. I had only dreamed of such a possibility. A Black whose beauty, poise, grace and intelligence made her seem like a goddess to me. What am I saying? She was a goddess! The daughter of Toronto Police Service officer James Armand and renowned psychiatrist and author Elisabeth Samson Armand. Two proud Canadians of Haitian origin. Wow. I was amazed. Folks, it was love at first sight. Luckily, Magdalene was smitten with me too. We fell in love. I worship the ground she walks on. She's so smart, beautiful and kind. A worldly young woman who's traveled to the Caribbean, Europe, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa and Brazil. Wow. 

my Black goddess has seen much of the world, folks. And she is wise beyond her years because of it. That's who I began dating. And she was the love of my life. Six months after meeting Magdalene, I said goodbye to Ottawa forever and moved to the city of Toronto. I'm now a student of the University of Toronto, on the same campus as my darling Magdalene. We're engaged and we're getting hitched as soon as we both graduate. See what I told you? Black Love is possible. And it's very real. My message to Black men and Black women everywhere is to never give up hope. We came into this world together, the most unique group among all human beings. We belong together. Black Love rocks! Let's love our own. Let's celebrate ourselves. And to hell with everyone else!



Why Black Men Crave Black Women



I love big Black women. I've been addicted to big beautiful Black ladies ever since I could remember. I've been collecting videos and magazines specifically geared to my unique interest for ages. My name is Jackson LeBrun. I'm twenty seven years old and I'm a Canadian man of Haitian descent who's strongly attracted to Black women. I'm addicted to the Black ladies and I don't want to be cured. I love what my fascination makes me. A Black female worshiper. A six-foot-three, lean and muscular Black man born and raised in the Northern Territories in Canada. I grew up around scores of white folks, and the only Black people I knew were my immediate family. Life was okay, I guess. My father, Ed LeBrun is a Lieutenant Colonel with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. My mother Elisabeth Johnson LeBrun is a Professor of African Literature at the University of Ottawa, my alma mater. 

There are about a million Black people in the Republic of Canada, but most of them live in the big cities. Big urban centers like the cities of Ottawa, Montreal and Quebec. The Great White North of Canada doesn't appeal to most of them. Too cold, I guess. That's why I lived isolated from my own race most of my life. Until I moved to the United States of America, and experienced a cultural and personal renaissance. I discovered a lot about myself and about my race within months of moving to America. I love my fellow Black men. The feeling of brotherhood I feel with them is deep. I also have an abiding love for the Black women of the world. I love them. I need them. I crave them. I love their sense of style, their strength, their beauty, their wit and their booties. Especially their booties.

I'm now a member of the Canadian Consulate in the city of Boston, Massachusetts. Deep within the United States of America. Essentially, I'm a diplomat. When I'm not serving my country to the best of my abilities, I'm hunting booties. There are so many Black women in Boston. I don't know why so many Black guys in the big city date white women. I much prefer the Black women I see strolling down the street. Especially the thick Black chicks with big tits, wide hips and big butts. Man, I can't get enough of them. I need to get the taste of white pussy out of my mouth and out of my mind. I'm a newfound appreciator of Black pussy. Now, I slept with a few white chicks in the Northern Territories but only because there were no Black women around. At all. There are more Black people in Europe than there are in the Northern Territories, percentage-wise. Trust me. That's why I love Boston so much. In a city teeming with beautiful Black women, I intend to dedicate myself to chasing Black females exclusively. 

I met this lovely young woman named Samantha Vaudeville while visiting a friend on Commonwealth Avenue along Boston's Back Bay. Samantha was a six-foot-tall, dark-skinned and big-bottomed, delightfully voluptuous and absolutely lovely young Black woman who attended a local school, Emerson College. This chick was hot as hell. She had it all. Cute face. Nice body. Big booty. Three out of three isn't bad, folks. When I saw her, I just had to go over and introduce myself. This twenty-two-year-old sexy mama was easy on the eyes, and had a thing for older men. Especially the good-looking ones with money. And it so happens that I'm older than her, and I have money. We were made for each other.

I took the time to get to know the lovely Samantha Vaudeville. This native of Dominica was new to the city of Boston, a city she moved to specifically for higher education purposes. She was a bit lonely. Suffering from the eternal dilemma of being a stranger in a strange land. She didn't find the fast-paced city life to her liking. Not at all. Rather, she longed for the peace and tranquility she knew in rural Dominica. In a way, I found her easy to relate to. I don't much care for big city life. Too many cars. Too many people. Too much noise. I prefer the peace and tranquility of the Great White North of Canada, where I grew up. 

I learned quite a bit about Samantha Vaudeville. In a way, she was a lot like me. An oddball in the city. Samantha spoke several languages, among them French, Portuguese, Spanish and German. Her mother, the famous author Astrid Vaudeville was an expatriate of the Republic of South Africa who traveled all over the European Union and the Americas before settling in the island nation of Dominica. Samantha told me how she found herself a weirdo among the city of Boston's fast-growing Black collegiate population. They found her accent peculiar, along with her interests. I could totally relate. My Black friends from all over Boston found me weird because I used to play men's varsity ice hockey at the college level back home and I love golf, bowling and tennis. I liked classical music, and hardcore rock and punk music. Yes, they thought I was weird too.

Samantha and I were judged harshly by our peers in the Black community of Boston because we didn't conform to their idea of what a Black person should be. A lot of Black female Americans I've met don't respect a Black man unless he acts like a roughneck, uses coarse language and carries himself with the swagger of a mob hitman. And scores of young Black American men are eager to conform to that idea to please the young Black women they're so desperate to impress. Both Samantha and I were proud of our Blackness. We simply refused to conform to what both Black America and White America thought a Black person should be.

Personally, I studied Black history and got in touch with my people and my culture early in my life. I think because I grew up so far away from large numbers of Black people, I never took myself, my family or my cultural heritage for granted. I learned about Hannibal Barca, the African General who led the Carthaginian Army across the Alps to battle the Roman Empire on their own turf. I know of the exploits of Jean-Jacques Dessalines, Toussaint Louverture and Alexandre Petion, the Haitian heroes who led scores of Black men and Black women in tearing down the French colonial powers who backed the institution of slavery in Haiti and establishing the first independent Black Republic in the New World. Everyone and their mama knows about civil rights activists Martin Luther King and Malcolm X. Not everyone knows about Black warriors like General Hannibal Barca or Jean-Jacques Dessalines. They were amazingly strong Black men.

To my amazement, Samantha Vaudeville knew about Black heroes like General Hannibal Barca of Carthage and Haiti's very own Alexandre Petion. She knew her Black history well. This young woman fascinated me. She was so different from most of the women I had met since moving to America. There seems to be an undeclared war between men and women in America. A war of the sexes played out in television shows, movies, commercials and books. A vicious conflict taking place in the bedroom and the courtroom. Hatred for men seems to be a big part of female life in America. And there are many institutions dedicated to promoting that. From the higher education system which warps young women's minds against men to the advertising industry, dedicated to uplifting the female customer by vilifying ordinary men. America is a place where even strong men struggle.

While I found myself drawn to the fascinating Black women I met in Boston, I was no fool looking at the world through rose-colored glasses. I knew plenty of Black women who boasted of the number of Black men whose lives they destroyed. Hatred for the Black male runs deep in America. White law enforcement officers in America hate Black males, but Black females seem to hate Black men even more. Amazing. Even though a Black man is President of the United States of America, and the states of Massachusetts and New York have Black Governors, hatred of Black males runs deep in White America. Hell, it runs deep in Black America too. And scores of Black women seem allied with the racist system to tear down Black men. Fascinating stuff. Is it written in the stars that Black men and Black women in America can't get along? Apparently so.

What's a brother to do? As a Black man, I think of the Black woman as my mate, my lover, my helper and my partner. I don't want any other women. Even when I lived in the Great White North, where there were absolutely no Black people, I longed for Black women. I thought about Black women with thick bodies, pretty faces and big booties when I masturbated. I didn't think of white women. Now, as a young Black man living in a milieu where the population was close to one hundred percent white, I did what I had to do when my sexual needs had to be met. Necessity and all that. I was very careful as to whom I dealt with. I read horror stories about young Black men who got falsely accused of sexual misconduct by white women. Dating white women was dangerous, and not something I wanted to do. I did it because I had to. Had there been Black women around, I would never have looked at women of any other race. Still, I'm a guy with a guy's basic needs. One needs alternatives otherwise there's no point in choosing. That's the main difference between me and the Black males of America. I had no choice. They do.

Upon coming to America, I realized America's Black men and Black women didn't respect or appreciate each other for the most part. And the media was eager to exploit that, often portraying Black couples as eternally angry and bickering, never happy. I've lived around white people my whole life and white couples are often far more dysfunctional than they let on. Let no one tell you otherwise. I know plenty of white couples where the man and the woman hate each other with a passion. They're just better at putting on a false image of happiness than Black couples. Black couples are too real to pretend to be happy with one another when deep down they're not feeling each other anymore. Can Black male and Black female relationships be saved? Lord, I hope so.

When I look at Samantha Vaudeville, I know the answer to that question. She's in her final year in Emerson College's business program. Soon she will graduate, then head to Suffolk University for her MBA. She intends to take on the treacherous world of corporate America as a strong-willed, battle-ready and educated Black woman. From what I know of corporate America, it's a world where racism and sexism are more common than specks of dust in the desert. White males rule that roost, and the white females are their supremely ambitious seconds-in-command. The white male sits on his throne and the white female stands on her pedestal. Admired and revered by all. Ensconced in the trappings of power. And both hope that's how it will always be.

Neither of them want to see non-Caucasians advance to positions of power in their alabaster clubhouse. White females want to replace white males as the power holders and shot callers, but they aren't fond of minority women, or men of other races. The sisterhood thing that feminists boast about doesn't always reach across color lines. These corporate ladies and gentlemen are something else. They don't like Asians, but the supremely gifted men and women of China and Japan are making quite a dent in the corporate world and are becoming a force to be reckoned with. Blacks and Hispanics in corporate America have made great strides, but the Powers That Be continue to get in their way. They know they can't stop them, but they're delaying their ascent to the top.

Even as Blacks, Hispanics and Asians combine to finally outnumber white people in America, racism persists in the halls of power. White men and white women have reigned as near demigods among humankind for centuries. They don't want to see their rule come to an end. Interestingly, there is increasing xenophobia in Europe, particularly Great Britain, even as Europeans experience the biggest population decline among all groups of humans. Oh, and while this is happening, scores of Africans, Asians and Middle-Easterners are moving to Europe. In the Americas, Europe and Australia, Europeans numbers are dropping. They're simply not making more of themselves. Many of them claim it's because of their Christian values or because they fear overpopulation. Bullshit. No human population voluntarily quells the flows of its numbers. Nature must be working against them somehow. By contrast, across the globe, Africans and Asians numbers are soaring. The peoples of Africa, India and China are booming in numbers as the Europeans decline in number on no fewer than three continents. Why is that? I don't know. It's worth looking into. But I'm no scientist.

Enough about the politics of race in this world. My Samantha and I are dating seriously now. I am quite smitten with her. She's got everything I ever wanted in a woman. First and foremost, she's Black. After an eternity in the Great White North, I'm thankful to have found a Black woman to love me. She's also smart, sexy, has a great personality and a fantastic body. Don't even get me started on her fantastic behind. Her booty is big, round and plump. Just the way I like them. And she's thick in all the right places. What can I say, folks? I love my woman. She's very passionate, and does all kinds of wonderfully kinky things to keep the passion alive in our relationship. Her ambition is boundless. She wants to become CEO of a Fortune 500 company someday. Isn't she cool? All that intelligence, beauty, ambition and sex appeal. And she is all mine. I'm really lucky.

When I'm done serving the Republic of Canada in my position as diplomat, I intend to ask Samantha to return to Canada with me and become my bride. The future mother of my offspring. I have no doubt that we will both do well there. She'll take on corporate Canada and I will continue to rise in the world of politics. Canada is becoming a very diverse place these days, and Africans, Middle-Easterners, Asians and Hispanics are creating their own enclaves in that previously all-white environment. And they are good at it too. 

There is a town called Preston in Ontario, Canada. It's located near the major city of Cambridge. Scores of Black people from Africa, the Caribbean and other places have made it their own. Thousands of them live there, and they represent sixty nine percent of the population. And here's the kicker. Preston is a city that has the potential to become for Black Canadians what towns like Atlanta, Harlem and Detroit, are to Black Americans. A mecca for the heart and soul of those respective nations. An oasis in the desert. A shelter in the storm. Black Canadians have made great strides since those wicked days in the 1960s when the Canadian government forced scores of Black families out of Afric-ville to build a road in the place they once called home. We cannot let such state-sanctioned racial discrimination rear its ugly head again. Now don't get me wrong. Canada has made great strides. The Governor-General of Canada is a Black woman appointed by the Queen of England herself. Racism will never die, but Black people worldwide will fight it until the end. That's what we do. Samantha and I will make the city of Preston our new home. The building blocks to the empire our sons and daughters will one day rule. 



Why Black Men Love Black Women



The name is Raul Foreman. A big and tall, caramel-skinned young Black man living in the city of Boston, Massachusetts.  I attend  Saint Francis University's  School of Business.  I'm only one semester away from getting my Master's degree in Business Administration. And to be honest, I can't wait. I've been at the school for six years now. Did all my undergraduate work there while leading the Football team to back-to-back national championships in the NCAA Division Two.  Those were the days. I miss playing Football. However, there's more to life than sports. 

These days, life couldn't be better. I live in an off-campus apartment and I'm doing alright.  Yes, we're in a recession but my job prospects aren't as bleak as most people's. My uncle, Leonard Foreman is the Executive Director of Regional Operations for Blake & Jordan Inc., a Textiles company which employs twenty eight hundred people in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and eleven thousand people nationwide.  He told me an entry-level position would be waiting for me the moment I earned my MBA.  I'm very happy to know this.

There is something else I'm really thankful for. Or should I say someone. Her name is Paula Ferguson Brown and she's  a lovely Black woman I met while studying at the school library.  Paula transferred to Saint Francis University from  Georgia State University.  She's Captain of the all-new  women's varsity Rugby team.  This six-foot-one, voluptuous and big-bottomed young Black woman simply stole my heart. She was cute, friendly and funny. I liked her a lot. I broke my rule about dating anyone who was more than three years younger than me, and I didn't regret it. 

Paula and I have been dating for some time now. Almost two years, I think. I've met her father Lennox and her mother Cheryl along with her brother Eric. They're a middle-class African-American family from Atlanta, Georgia.  And they were really proud of their daughter, the first female in their family to lead an NCAA sport team at a traditionally White institution. Paula came from a family of athletes. Her mother used to run Cross Country for Spellman College back in the day and her father played Baseball for Morehouse College. Her brother Eric currently plays Soccer for Georgia Tech. I found that fascinating.  I'm basically the only jock in my family. My parents, Roy and Deanna Foreman are both Public School Teachers. My older brother Charlton works in the Information Technologies Department at the Massachusetts Maritime Academy and my younger sister Wilma is a Bio-Engineering major at Northeastern University. Yeah, my family is full of nerds. Paula's family was apparently inundated by the athletic gene.

Paula came into my life at a very exciting time. I saw myself as finally becoming the man I always wanted to be. A self-sufficient, confident and educated Black man ready to take on the world. I was working as a teacher's assistant at Saint Francis University.  My employer was a tall, stern Black man named James Harrison, distinguished Professor of African-American Literature.  Not the most pleasant boss to work for, but he was a very smart man.  He was good friends with my former mentor, Jamal Stone, the Director of Athletics.  A man I had the utmost respect for. Jamal Stone brought NCAA Football to Saint Francis University three years before I came along.  He worked closely with the school's president, Dr. Loretta Brown, to diversify the student body and the Athletic Department. These days, thirty nine percent of the  eleven-thousand-person student body at Saint Francis University were people of African-American or Hispanic descent. A giant leap, considering racial minorities made up three percent of the student body in the year 2000.

I liked being a student on a campus where so many talented African-American professors worked. Being around so many brilliant Black men and Black women was wonderfully empowering.  Diversity had come to Saint Francis University and seemed to be there to stay. Oh, it was still a majority White institution but African-American and Hispanic students and faculty members had made tremendous strides in recent years.  There was a Black Student Union, a Hispanic Heritage Society and three Black Fraternities on campus, along with four Black Sororities.  

Nowhere was the campus diversity more present than in our Intercollegiate Athletics. The men's Basketball, Football, Cross Country, Soccer and Track & Field teams were mostly Black, as were the women's Basketball, Volleyball, Soccer, Track & Field and Cross Country teams. The men's and women's Ice Hockey, Lacrosse, Gymnastics, Fencing, Golf and Tennis teams were all White.  That's to be expected, I guess. There were three African-American and a couple of Hispanic student-athletes on the women's Swimming team and two Asian men on the men's Swimming team. A major surprise, all things considered.  My Paula was one of three African-Americans on the women's Rugby team but she was the team captain and its most dominant player. Back in High School, she played varsity Football all four years. My lady played Football. I was mightily impressed. And she was cute, with a big booty too. I guess I hit the jackpot.

I loved spending time with Paula. She was so smart and funny. Also, driven and very ambitious. We had a lot in common. Paula was a business major who wanted to hit the ground running when she made her move into the corporate world.  She felt that she had two strikes against her, being Black and female.  Even though a Black man is President of the United States of America and there are Black Governors and Black Senators around, not to mention female Governors and female Senators, I think Racism and Sexism are here to stay.  Black men bear the brunt of the trauma as far as Racism was concerned. The world hates us. We're always blamed for everything that goes wrong in society. But we're not going down without a fight.  We know there is greatness in us and we can accomplish great things.  A certain Hawaiian-born World Leader taught us that. As did the many intelligent and brave Black men and Black women who came before him. Black women don't get a free pass from Racism. Our sisters don't have it easy either.  The world isn't too fond of them. But if we work together as a people, I think we'll be better off as a community in the end.

Paula and I were both busy people, but we set aside time to be together.  It's not easy being in a relationship in today's world. That's why divorce rates are skyrocketing, and both men and women are mistreating their spouses. I think patience, understanding and respect are needed to make relationships work.  And Paula seemed to be on the same page on that topic. We are a collegiate Black couple trying to make our relationship work. And it takes time and energy. I hate the negative image the media has of Black couples. We're always shown as bitter, occasionally violent and eternally bickering. That's not the truth, or even a fraction of it. We're people, and we have our ups and downs.  Being with Paula Ferguson Brown reminded me that the Black love was still alive. Not just for Black celebrities like Beyonce and Jay-Z or Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith.  Average Black people can stick together and make our romantic relationships work too.

I remember one steamy lovemaking session Paula and I shared in her dormitory the night after she helped Saint Francis University's women's Rugby team  defeat the sturdy gals from Bowdoin College. It was one for the ages, folks. Beyond passionate. Reminded me why I just love Black women. I mean that. They have a unique strength and beauty that women of other races simply don't have.  Paula was my strong, beautiful and sensual Black woman. And that night we celebrated her victory in the best of ways.

I laid my sexy Black goddess on the bed, gazing at her gloriously naked body. She looked simply gorgeous. A voluptuous Black woman with a pretty face, large and firm breasts, wide hips, thick and strong legs and a huge, round butt.  She was simply beautiful. And I made sweet love to her. First, I kissed her passionately, then licked her from her head to her toes. I liked the way she smelled and tasted. My beautiful Black woman.  Paula sighed, and told me to continue. I grasped her firm breasts in my hands, and gently rubbed them while sucking on her large areolas.  Looking into her eyes, I pleasured her.  My hand made its way between her legs, which she opened for me.  I looked at her vagina. It was smooth, and hairy. My woman was natural. Just the way I liked them. I spread her pussy lips, breathed her womanly scent and went in for a lick down. Running her hands through my hair, Paula urged me to be careful. She needn't have bothered. I always handle my women with care. With my agile tongue, I began to lick and probe her pussy. I've gone down on many women before and acquired quite the technique. However, every woman is different and they taste different too. They liked to be handled differently as well. Some urged me to munch on their pussies with gusto while others asked me to be gentle and to take my time.  I'm happy to say that Paula fell into the latter category. My favorite. You just can't hurry through oral sex, you know. Folks, I took my sweet time revving up Paula's engine. And in the end, she was moaning and panting. Not to mention sweating and cursing profusely. My work was done.

Afterwards, my sweet lady returned the favor. She took my seven and a half inches of uncircumcised Black rod in hand and gently took me into her mouth. I was really surprised that she did that. Truth be told, she'd never gone down on me before. When I asked her, she told me she wasn't into that sort of thing. I thought she was one of those women out there who simply won't try oral sex with a man. I thought my situation sucked, pun intended, but I loved her. And yet there she was, sucking my cock with gusto, I might add. Wow. I simply lay there while she went to work on me. I was amazed. This definitely wasn't her first time going down on a man. She was too good at this. Paula worked me over until I came, then shocked me even further by draining me of my masculine fluids. Hot damn! I think my screams could be heard around the entire city of Boston!

Yeah, we had a good time that night. Paula was freakier than I thought. I mean, after she sucked me off, she made me take her doggy-style. And she asked me to finger her asshole while slamming my dick into her pussy. I did as requested. Wow. I didn't think my girlfriend got down like that. She always seemed so tame in the bedroom. And now she was asking me to spank her, pull her hair and call her names while doing her. Paula confessed to me that she liked rough sex, and just wasn't sure how to get me to try it with her. I was stunned. What man doesn't want a girlfriend who's into wild and kinky stuff? I don't know why wild women pretend to be tame. Men don't like tame women. At least not in the bedroom. They're kind of boring. I wish we could post this somewhere where all women would see it. Oh, well.

It's now midnight, and Paula is fast asleep. I look at her as she sleeps. She's really beautiful. Though like so many women, she can't see it. I like her cute, round face. I like her almond-shaped dark brown eyes. I like her really dark skin. And I like her large breasts, her thick body, her wide hips and her big round butt. Oh, man. I love her butt. I love the way her big butt looks in a Black thong. And I love the way it looks when she bends over to pick up something. Oh, yeah. When I fantasize about her, I imagine her in her Rugby uniform, but just the shorts. Hell yeah. Sadly, she doesn't see herself as I see her. That's life I guess.

As I lie awake next to my other half, I find myself thinking about the future. Paula and I talk about these things often. We want to get a place together after she graduates. A nice apartment in the city. She'll work part-time while attending Business School. I'll be working full-time to take care of the household we hope to someday have. We want to buy a house either in Avon or Randolph but we'll take one in Brockton if we have to. We want to have quite a few little ones, but that's many years down the line. That's why we always use condoms and she's on the pill.  This isn't the type of world either of us wants to bring a new life into right now. We're on the same page on this.

The United States of America is in the crapper right now. The economy is going down the drain.  President Barack Obama is trying his best but he can't do it alone. Not with short-sighted Republicans and weak-willed Democrats dogging him left and right. Sociopaths in high places don't want things to get better. Tuition rates are skyrocketing at colleges and universities nationwide. Families are being torn apart by the financial pressures couples are experiencing. And I don't know if it's because they need someone to blame for their troubles but Hate Groups are really on the rise. The ordinary American person is getting in touch with his or her inner Racist.

The Hate Groups are multiplying like locusts. They're targeting Black people, Asians, Hispanics, Middle-Easterners and finally, Gays and Lesbians. These haters are everywhere. And they hate the smart, educated and successful Black person most of all. Especially when that person is male. You can't trust anyone these days. When most people think of a Racist, they envision a bearded White man from someplace like the Deep South waving a Confederate flag and talking about the Good Old Days. I know better. I know the most dangerous Racist of them all isn't a gun-toting Redneck but a pretty, smart and well-educated young White female who secretly despises non-Caucasians. Such a person is above suspicion as far as most people are concerned. I happen to know better. I know a two-legged viper when I see one. I watch my back. Always. 

I am living in a hostile world and I'm surrounded by enemies. Male or female, Black or White, Straight or Gay. A threat can come from anywhere. This is my reality as a college-educated Black male living in America. In a few months, I will have my Master's degree in Business Administration. And possibly a solid job waiting for me. My Paula still has two years of undergraduate work to complete, and then she has to get into Business School. Life isn't going to be easy for us. We're going to have to work really hard just to survive as a couple in the financial mess affecting everybody's lives nowadays. Calculating our every move carefully because this world won't hand us a second chance. I think we can make it, though. We're descended from the Sons and Daughters of Mother Africa, a remarkably resilient bunch. Wish us luck. Peace.  



Why Black Men Love White Women



I guess it had to be written someday. The world's greatest taboo. And I would be the woman given the task to prove it. That's okay. I've always been the kind of woman who rises to meet a challenge. Inquiring minds want to know why so many Black men are dating White women as opposed to Black women. Many sociological and cultural experts clash on the answers to these questions. Well, I happen to know the answer. My name is Elisabeth O'Braonain. I'm an Irishwoman living in Boston. My profession is that of secretary. My hobby is stealing Black men from Black women.

How do I do it? It's so easy, really. The average Black man living in America has many factors working against him. In all likelihood, he comes from a relatively poor background. His father was most likely not around, for a variety of reasons. Maybe the father was a deadbeat. Or maybe he was unprepared for fatherhood. Or maybe the most likely instance is that the man wanted to be with his offspring but the woman vindictively prevented him from spending time with them. That's Parental Alienation Syndrome and it's rampant in America, especially the Black community.

The average Black man really doesn't need the kind of woman who's always on his case all the time. Actually, no man does. A man wants a woman who's loving, loyal and supportive. Most men can only dream about such a woman in today's world. Man-haters are common and decent, loving and supportive women are becoming increasingly rare. Especially in the Black community. The average Black woman has a deep hatred of the Black man. She hates him more than those racist Southern matriarchs do. Of course, Black men aren't perfect. Black women aren't perfect either. Yet the Black females think they're goddesses and that Black men are the scum of the universe. That's not true. There are plenty of educated, decent and good-natured Black men out there. But the Black women don't give them a chance. They see all Black men as collectively guilty of being wicked. They're found guilty without trial or jury. Because when it comes to everything having to do with the Black man, Black women see themselves as Judge, Jury and Executioner. And that's just not right.

Is it any wonder then that scores of Black men from all walks of life are trying their luck with women of other races? There have always been issues between men and women. Disagreements, arguments and misunderstandings. And it's always going to be that way. It doesn't matter if you're a Black male dating a White female, a Hispanic female, an Asian female, a Middle-Eastern female or a Black female. There will be misunderstandings, confusion and heartache. It's part of the human condition. However, Black women's habit of blaming everything wrong under the sun is what has driven the Black men away from their beds, hearts and minds. Their I'm-always-right mindset is terrifying for anyone, let alone a man whom the entire world seems to be against from day one. A lot of Black women wonder if Black men still love them. The truth is that Black men never stopped loving Black women. Black women stopped loving Black men. That's why they're looking for love, companionship and even friendship elsewhere.

Well, since the Black women of the world don't seem to appreciate the sexy and handsome Black men of the world, I'll take them for myself. I don't always get along with anyone, male or female, Black or White. But I consider it a part of basic human decency to give a person the benefit of the doubt until he or she proves that they're scum. As for the Black men I meet, they're just people. Good, bad, and every shade in between. It's wrong for anyone to put them all in the same category. They're not all bad. They're human beings. Some of them are lawyers, doctors, policemen, athletes and entertainers. They're good men with needs and desires, just like everybody else. They're people, and should be treated as such. That's my view of Black men. I guess you could say that I'm a fan of theirs. I respect and even admire them as people. Just look at all the good-looking, charming and successful Black men in Hollywood, the National Football League, the National Basketball Association and Corporate America. How can anyone doubt their potential or lump them all in the same negative category? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Now, I must tell you about my personal hobby. The Seduction of Black men. I have it down to a science. The Black man needs a lot of sex and some love, too. What he doesn't need is attention from racist cops, angry Black women, and obnoxious judges. What he wants above all else is acceptance. Whoever the Black man in question is, he's looking for acceptance. Quite often the Black man has done a lot. He's been a good father to his offspring. A positive influence in the lives of his family members. A hard-worker with strongs ethic at whatever his profession happens to be. He can be a cab driver, lawyer, sportsman, judge, artist, painter, writer or musician and still feel unfulfilled. The world looks at Black men differently from other men. It's just a fact of life.

Black men are worshiped as star athletes and stellar actors but they also get disgraced by a world that expects the majority of them to be nothing more than criminals. Teachers expect Black male students to be troublemakers rather than academic luminaries. Corrections officers and police officers expect them to be miscreants. Judges expect them to be mindless brutes. Black women expect them to be worse than all of the above combined. The scum of the universe. The Black man is often made to feel like no matter what he does, he'll always be less than others. Society brands him a troublemaker. He fights to overcome that stereotype. He works harder than everyone else. He fights harder than everyone else. Yet he is made to feel like he is less. People lower their eyes when he walks by on the sidewalk. Or they stare at him in undisguised hostility when they feel strong enough to do it. The Black man does everything yet the world says it's never enough. He has a curse that he can never live down. Such pressure the Black man carries on his shoulders. He needs to be relieved of his burdens. That's where I come in.

I approach the Black men I meet as my sexy, unassuming yet charming self. A five-foot-nine, curvy, blonde-haired, green-eyed Irishwoman. I don't let them approach me. I approach them. And when we talk, I'm charming and sweet. Not in a fake way. Like all those white chicks I meet in America. But in a real way. The Black men can tell, and they appreciate it. I'm honest with them. And I honestly want to get to know them better. Oh, and when we go out, I insist on either paying myself or going Dutch. I don't treat the Black man as my personal bank account. A lot of Black women have a BAP complex. They see themselves as Black American Princesses. They're spoiled. And they have a sense of entitlement. They see the world as belonging to them and Black men as their property. They see this as their right as Black women. No man, Black or White, straight or gay, is anyone's property. Slavery was abolished in the 1860s. It's illegal to own a man.

The Black men I date aren't my property. They're men. Human beings of the male persuasion. I respect them as men. They respect me as a woman. Race doesn't factor into how I see them. I kiss my black boyfriends in public and hold hands with them. I make love to them passionately. I give myself to them heart, body and soul. I hold nothing back. I share all I am with them. I give them my love freely, and access to my body and spirit. And they share with me their hopes and dreams, their hidden fears. And I am grateful for that. It's a blessing, to be able to share yourself completely with another person. It's a gift from the heavens. I love Black men. They've got a friend in me. And I will never cease to be their friend and lover. No matter what happens to me. Until I turn to ash. 



Why Black Men Need Black Women



Hey, there. My name is Roselyn Xavier. I'm the best friend of a bisexual guy. And I'm in love with him. I first met Jason Des Moulin when we were both seniors at Zulu Academy, a historically Black private school in the city of Boston where the African-American elite of New England have been sending their sons and daughters for years. The school's student body was fifty four percent Black when I went there, and has been steadily climbing since we enrolled. Jason and I graduated from Zulu Academy, affectionately known as Z-Academy, in 2007 and enrolled at Henderson College.

Henderson College is my new home these days, and the setting of my adventures. I'm a six-foot-two, busty and heavyset, dark-skinned young Black woman of Haitian descent. And I've got a really big butt. It's not easy being me. I'm the captain of the women's varsity rugby team, and for the most part life is okay. I embraced my new life. Henderson College is only a few minutes from my family's townhouse on the Back Bay, but it's a whole world away. A world I must adapt to.

Henderson College is at first glance yet another private school in the Boston area. With a difference. It's an HBCU. One of America's historically Black colleges and universities. Sixty three percent of Henderson College's nine-thousand-person student body is Black. But by no means are we a homogenous group. There are Black students from the Boston area, Black students from island nations such as Cape Verde, the Republic of Haiti, Jamaica and Saint Lucia. And there are also Black students from out of state, hailing from places like Atlanta in Georgia, Detroit in Michigan, and Houston in Texas. Even more fascinating are the Black students from South Africa, Zimbabwe, and the Ivory Coast. Yes, we're a diverse bunch.

I chose to go to Henderson College because they were starting the first-ever women's varsity rugby program in the history of New England intercollegiate athletics. And they were offering athletic scholarships too. I've played rugby my entire life. Playing in college is a dream of mine. So I seized the opportunity. The fact that my best friend and lifelong crush Jason Des Moulin was going there also appealed to me.

Jason Des Moulin. My six-foot-three, lean and muscular, dark-skinned and ruggedly handsome Haitian-American stud muffin. He's my dreamboat. He really is. I want to cover him in chocolate and lick him from head to toe. He's the captain of the men's varsity swimming team at Henderson College. One of three African-American swimmers on the team. Even at a Black school, the white students gravitate toward certain sports. For example, the men's football, men's and women's basketball and men's and women's track and field teams are exclusively Black. The women's tennis team has both Black and white students in it. The men's and women's swim teams are mostly white. There are two Black women and one Asian chick on the women's swim team. The men's rugby team attracted a relatively even mix of Black and white members, and a number of Hispanics have joined the team. The women's rugby team has scores of Black, white, Hispanic and Asian women on it. It's the most diverse varsity team on campus.

When Jason's in the water, easily outpacing all the other guys, he's like a demigod. Like one of those ancient African water sprites brought to life. Henderson College offered him scholarships in football, basketball and track and field, all of which are sports he excelled at in high school but he wanted to be a collegiate swimmer. He once told me that Black people need to seriously compete in those sports that are still dominated by whites such as Ice Hockey, Swimming and Alpine Skiing. By becoming captain of the all-new men's swim team at a historically Black college, he saw himself as a pioneer for our people. I love the way he thinks. He has the keen intellect and nobility of spirit that great Black men like President Barack Obama, Massachusetts Governor Deval Patrick and Harvard University Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. have. You can sense it in his presence. The guy's going places.

Of course, he will never be mine. For starters, he's bisexual. I'm the first person he told about his bisexuality. I was stunned when he told me, but swore to keep his secret. Apparently, throughout our senior year at Zulu Academy, he was having a relationship with this tall Black guy named Reno Mabuke, the son of wealthy South African immigrants. When Jason's not secretly hooking up with guys, he's chasing chicks. Mostly big-booty Hispanic women and skinny Asian chicks. At least he's not into white chicks but damn. Like a lot of Black college men, he's not that keen on chasing Black women. That's okay because this Black woman doesn't mind doing the chasing.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to be in a relationship with him. I'd be the perfect girlfriend. I wouldn't nag him about useless shit. I would cook for him. I would clean for him. And I'd give him plenty of sex. He would have nothing to complain about. I'd give him plenty of hot, sweet pussy. And I wouldn't care if he's banging other guys when he's not with me. Yeah, we'd have a lot of fun together. In one scenario, I envision me greeting him naked when he comes home. A hero's welcome, as they say.

I greet him with open mouth, and open legs. I kiss him passionately, and he sucks on my tits. He runs his hands all over my voluptuous body, and feels my big ass. He pinches my big butt, and then rubs his hard, thick cock against my pelvis. His dick is really big and he's uncut. I saw it once when he came out of the shower. He thrusts his big cock into my pussy. I spread my legs as he enters me, welcoming him inside of me. I wrap my arms around my sexy man, craving more of him. He slams his dick deep inside my cunt, and I welcome his every thrust. He fucks me energetically. My kind of fuck. It's my fantasy fuck. 

Jason continues to pump away, slamming his cock deep inside my pussy. I welcome his every thrust. I scream his name, loving every moment he spends inside of me. He pulls out, and I groan in protest. Jason smiles, and tells me to turn around. I do. He cups my ass cheeks in his hands, and asks me if I've ever been ass fucked before. I say no, since all the times I've shoved dildos up my ass don' t really count. Jason tells me there's a first time for everything. Then he applies something wet and cold against my anus, before pressing his cock against my asshole. I smile. I am dying of excitement. Without a word being spoken, he entered me. I felt a slight pain as his cock entered my asshole, then he gripped my wide hips and began fucking me in the ass.

Jason slammed his cock into my asshole. It hurt. But I welcomed the pain. I welcomed it because I was finally getting fucked by the man I loved. And I wanted to make him happy. Prove to this bisexual stud that women like anal sex too. He doesn't have to chase men all the time. I can take it up the butt as well as any gay man. Chicks have asses too. Know what I'm saying? So I gritted my teeth and let my man pump away. His cock pounded my ass so frigging hard, it's not even funny. I endured it to make my man happy. It wasn't all bad. It even felt oddly good at times. On a scale of one to ten, I'd give it a six or seven. The best part? When Jason exploded inside of me, blasting load upon load of his manly cum deep inside my ass. It was hot!

Yeah, that's the kind of welcome Jason Des Moulin would come home to if he were my boyfriend, lover, booty call or whatever. Instead of giving a voluptuous sister a chance, he's chasing the others. Oh, well. Someday he will forget the others and come back to the sisters. Only a Black woman can understand the Black man's needs, wants and struggles on the planet. We're the same species, after all. Others can't understand. They're not like us. They can never understand what makes us what we are. Or why we do what we do. That's why we call them the others. Peace. This sister's out. Waiting for her man to come to his senses, realize what he's missing out on and come home.



Why Black Men Prefer Black Women



There is so much fun to be had in the City of Champions in the summertime. Seriously. The name is Kendra Joseph. I'm a six-foot-tall, curvy and big-bottomed, proudly dark-skinned and absolutely stunning young Black woman of Haitian descent living in the town of Brockton, Massachusetts. I'm a student of the University of Massachusetts, at the Amherst campus. The flagship of the University of Massachusetts system. After a rather challenging school year, I need to get away from it all. Have some fun. Get my freak on.

Helping me in this endeavor is a six-foot-three, dark-skinned, kind of chubby but still ruggedly handsome young man named Antoine Guerrier. I'm lying in bed, my plump thighs spread as this sexy Haitian-American stud gives my pussy a good licking. And he's really good at eating pussy too. I knew that the moment I met him. Antoine is a southern guy. One of those Haitian-Americans from Atlanta, Georgia. He transferred to UMass-Amherst's School of Graduate Studies after earning his bachelor's degree in business administration from Morehouse College last year. I looked at his big, sexy lips and knew he'd be good at licking pussy. Looks like I was right.

I'm one of those ladies who don't believe in giving a man any play unless he can kiss right and please my pussy. When we first started going out, I told Antoine what the rules were. And he was quite happy to follow them. You see, he's a total submissive and I am only too happy to dominate him. Lots of black men like a strong black woman. And I love black men like that. Antoine licked and fingered my pussy, taking his sweet time as he worked his unique brand of magic on me. Real men eat pussy. And they enjoy doing it. That's my sincerest belief when it comes to men and women in the bedroom.

Antoine is a big and tall, kind of scary-looking black guy in the eyes of society but I know him well. He's a very smart guy, and a gentle soul. Essentially a people pleaser. And a true gentleman. I like those qualities in a man. Antoine fingered my pussy with two, then three fingers. I moaned in pleasure. Gosh, I love it when he does that. He gently bit my clit while thrusting his fingers deep into my pussy. Man, that's my sweet spot and he knows it. He continues this sweet brand of torture, working his magic on me and soon, I'm gushing like a torrent. I cum rather spectacularly, oozing my feminine liquids all over his dark, handsome visage.

Antoine calmly watches me as I squeal in delight, my pussy squirting cum all over. He watches me with a smile on his face. I'm in heaven and my favorite sexy black stud has brought me there. Hot damn. It takes me a moment to recover. I look at Antoine as he pulls me into his arms and kisses me. I taste myself on his lips. Antoine kisses me passionately, and I ran my hands all over his body. Being kind of chubby, he's a bit self-conscious about his physique. I don't care. I like a big man. With all that implies. I play with his chest hairs, and make my way down to his sweet spot. I grasp his cock in my hands. His dick is both long and thick. Also, it's uncircumcised. Another thing he feels self-conscious about. Again I don't care. I like dick. Period. 

To prove this to him, I kiss his lips, then kiss a path down his neck to his chest. I finally make my way to his groin, and without hesitation I take his dick into my mouth. Antoine gasps as my mouth engulfs his manhood. I look up at him while sucking him off. He runs his hand through my long black hair as I suck his dick. Gently, I tease his balls with my fingers. Antoine groans, and urges me to continue. Clearly, he loves what I'm doing. Of course he does. I'm good at this. And I don't do it for every man I'm with. If I like a man, then I want to make him happy. In any way that I can. If I don't like him, then he can go to hell for all I care. Do you understand ?

While sucking Antoine's dick and stroking his balls, I insert one finger into his rectum. That gives him pause. Like a lot of men, he finds anal play enjoyable but doesn't like to admit it. It took me a while to help him get over that. Last week, while we hooked up, I fingered his asshole for a long time while stroking his thick cock to its full hardness. He liked it so much that he allowed me to work a slim blue dildo up his ass. I thrust the dildo deep into his ass while stroking his dick. He got so hard, it's not even funny. Yeah, he enjoyed having my dildo up his ass. I told him that one of these days, I'm going to completely dominate him and make his ass mine. He's half scared and half thrilled by the idea. I bought a strap-on dildo just for that. When his birthday comes in a few days, I'm going to sodomize him with it. I know he wants it. He looks at strap-on female domination videos on the Internet. Especially those featuring a certain massively muscular, towering black dominatrix who loves to sodomize black and Hispanic males with her thick strap-on dildo. But that's for another time.

I suck Antoine's dick until he's ready to burst. Then I suck him harder and make him give it up. And give it up he does. His cock shoots its cum all over my face. And unlike many women out there, I absolutely love it when my man sprays my face with his seed. I drink Antoine's precious manly seed, and lick his cock dry. He sighs in pleasure. Loving what I do. Without warning, I shove him back onto the bed. And I climb on top of him. I take his cock and insert it into my pussy. I take his hands and place them on my hips, then I start riding him. Antoine thrusts his manhood deep into my pussy. We go at it like this for some time. It's a fast-paced, fun fuck.

I take his cock out of my pussy, and pull myself off him. I bend over and spread my ass cheeks wide open. I tell Antoine to make himself useful. He stares at me, not getting it. Then he does. Grinning, he springs up after me. I tell him to use the lube, or he's not getting any play. He does. He lathers up my ass with lotion, then presses his cock against my asshole. I give him the go-ahead and he slowly inserts his dick into my ass. Gripping my hips, he starts pumping his dick into my ass. I grit my teeth as I feel his big cock stretch my asshole. It hurts, but also feels kind of good. I give him permission to start pumping away and he does so happily. Slams his dick into my ass. I scream in both pain and pleasure. For I'm loving every minute of it. After a few minutes of pounding my ass, he cums. This time we both scream. It's fucking wonderful.

We're lying side by side on the bed, covered with sweat and happy as clowns. I look at Antoine and he looks at me. Neither of us says anything. This was absolutely frigging amazing. I chose well when I picked Antoine to be my lover. We definitely have some impressive chemistry. He's a good-looking, educated black man who loves his woman and believes in making her happy. And he's terrific in bed. Every black woman's dream. What can I say ? I sure know how to pick them.



Why Black Men Prefer White Women



Brother Samuel here. Your favorite big and tall, openly bisexual black male writer and urban adventurer. Currently residing in Brockton's West Side. Sometimes, I think black women are their own worst enemies. More than anything else, they're the ones who drive black men to dating and marrying women of other races. Black women are uncompromisingly problematic. More so than females of other races, it seems. It's like they got a bone to pick with the entire world. Male or female, black or white, straight or gay, we're all human damn it. We've all been wronged at some point so we're all entitled to feeling frustrated. But black chicks are the worst, man. Seriously. They're never happy! I don't think they'd be happy if someone handed each and every single one of them a billion dollars simply for smiling for sixty seconds! What the hell is their problem? If I sound angry, it's because I am. I'm a fairly decent guy who's been mistreated. Damn it, I've got the right to feel angry. If you don't like it, I don't give a fuck.

Explain to me how I was in the Champion City Community College library the other day and two women I've known for years showed me completely different sides to themselves. The librarian's assistant, a plump black woman named Bernice Banal was acting all bitchy and controlling about the computer usage in the library. She was the designated computer Nazi at the library. I'm a former student. You think they'd show me more kindness. Nope. She had to be a bitch about the whole thing, imposing restrictions on non-students as they used the four public-access computers.

Women as a lot are a dangerous, unpredictable group. But that day I saw two of them who were as different as night and day. Here I was, sitting alone at the computer, trying to edit this book which I'm trying to fix before sending it to my publisher. It's about a fiction anthology about the life and loves of male and female villains in modern-day America. I came to the community college library to work on it because my sociopathic aunt Gabrielle's son Michael and daughter Cassandra are hogging up the computer at home. That is when her husband Louis isn't using it to look at skinny white women wrestling each other online. Yeah, I come to the campus library at night because it's my safe haven. Usually.

Anyway, I was working on fixing the anthology when someone hollered, trying to get my attention. That someone was none other than this young white woman named Marybeth Winston, who used to go out with my sometime friend Ivan Aurelius. He's a stocky, not-very-bright black guy I met at city college a few years back. He's Haitian, and goes to the Haitian Seventh-Day Adventist Church of Champion City. I see him on campus sometimes. I think he's majoring in radiology or something like that. It's through Ivan that I met Marybeth, though I understand they've since broken up. Marybeth was fine-looking if you ask me. A tall, busty, wide-hipped and big-bottomed young white woman with porcelain skin, short red hair and warm brown eyes. Once, Ivan and I went to her house in Braintree. She was a really cool gal who made us feel welcome. Personally, I don't know what she sees in a loser like Ivan. The dude is a total nut job but I hear that's what attracts women these days. Nice guys don't get women. Only psychos, thugs, losers and poseurs do. Go figure.

Anyway, if I thought Marybeth was okay before, she looked golden to me now. Why? I'll get to that in a second. Earlier, Bernice Banal, the arrogant black dame proceeded to act out her feminine version of the Napoleon Complex and show me who was really the boss at the Champion City Community College Library. The thing is that she acts like a saint around the men and women who work at the library. Most students never saw her dark side either. She was all smiles around them. I'm the only one she shows her nasty side to so I'm the only person who sees her for the mean-spirited and dark-hearted woman she really is. Watching Bernice in action reminded me of how wicked women could be, seemingly for no reason at all. Hate to sound like a hater but the truth must be told. Men aren't saints. We do our share of damage in this world. But there's always a reason behind what we do and why we do it. Not always a good reason or even a smart one, but there's a reason nonetheless. The reverse isn't true with women. Especially the black gals I seem to meet. They hate us black men with a fiery passion. What gives?

I wasn't in the best of moods when Marybeth came calling. Nevertheless, I put on a smile and asked her how she was doing. Marybeth stood there, and we talked for a moment. She told me that she'd recently switched her major from nursing to social work. When I asked her what brought this change about, she had the most amazing story to share with me. She told me how at the place where she worked, she was a caregiver for a young man with some kind of bone disease. It rendered him utterly helpless. She grew to see this as more than just a job. She cared about people. In the nursing profession, she saw lots of women and men who got on the job for all the wrong reasons. They became nurses to make money. That's not what she wanted to do with her life. She wanted to help people, and she couldn't do that as a nurse. She would be more efficient as a social worker. As I listened to this young woman's impassioned story, I found myself smiling.

I had to smile. Marybeth found my smile puzzling. She had no idea what she had done to me, or for me. You see, I open my TV everyday and I see commercials where men are made to look like fools. In the movies, men are portrayed as evil doers. Lawmakers think of men as predators and of women as pure radiant saints. And most women living in America got no problem with that. That's what makes me distrust the whole lot of them. The mistreatment of innocent men doesn't seem to bother the majority of women. In my heart of hearts, I secretly hoped that at least some women gave a damn about us men. Because as a man I'm slowly losing hope. If what Marybeth said was true, then she just might be one of those few decent women I hoped still existed in today's America. I congratulated her on following her heart and choosing to help people instead of going only after the money. She smiled and shrugged. We looked at each other silently. Marybeth asked me how Ivan was. I shrugged, and told her he was okay. She handed me a piece of paper with her number on it, and told me to say hi to Ivan for her next time I saw him. I assured her that I would do that, then we shook hands and she left the library.

I watched Marybeth as she walked away. Hot damn. White gal's got booty! Why in hell did Ivan let her go? The gal was pretty, friendly, smart, goal-oriented and apparently a decent person. And she had a fine ass too. Maybe Ivan knows something I don't. Or maybe he's a fool who passed up a good thing. I'm definitely keeping her number. As I waved goodbye to Marybeth, I noticed Bernice Banal giving me a dirty look. I've seen similar looks on the faces of black women when they see a black man with a white woman. They get all mad and stuff, yet they are proud of their mistreatment of said black man when he approaches them to holler. See what I mean? They all got issues. It's not my problem. I've got better things to do with my time than figuring out why ninety nine percent of black women are man-haters. Oh, I know plenty of women of other races got some misandry ( hatred of men ) in them too. It's just that among the black ladies, man-hating is a cult and a religion in and of itself. Here's to those ladies out there who don't subscribe to Man-Hating Magazine. I know they're rare, and I'd be happy to buy them a drink sometime. Anyhow, I've got to go. Peace.



Why Black Men Worship Black Women



The name is Stevenson Xavier. A big and tall ( six-foot-one by 240 pounds) young Black man of Haitian descent living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I moved to the Canadian Province of Ontario from the City of Boston, Massachusetts, about a year ago. These days, I work as a security guard and I also attend Carleton University, where I major in business administration. I transferred to Carleton University from the University of Massachusetts in Boston. Canadian schools are cheaper, I guess. Finances, that's the main reason why I came to Ottawa. 

It's certainly not the excitement or the scenery. I am so bored in the Confederation of Canada it's not even funny. I miss the beautiful, lively City of Boston. The United States of America is so much livelier than Canada but I have to adjust to a new life, I guess. I'm in Canada for school and work, and also because I pissed off too many Irish, African-American and Italian gangsters in the town of Boston. They're after me, man. I thought I'd chill in Canada until the U.S. economy got better and my enemies forgot about me.

To kill the boredom of Ottawa, I chase the sexy ladies. I love Black women. Unfortunately, they're not into me. If you're a brother with academic ambition, and you're not a thug or a wannabe ball player or rapper, Black women don't seem to notice you. Oh, and if you're a Black man who isn't walking around with a White woman, Black women definitely don't notice you. They only look at Black men when they see them with White women. And that's a crying shame because I love me some Black women. Luckily, I hooked up with a sexy older Black woman who has a good head on her shoulders. Mona is her name. She is thirty three years old, and hails from the Republic of Djibouti in Continental Africa. Mona works at the Royal Bank of Canada. And she's a wanton, lusty gal with a penchant for younger men. That's perfect for me, folks.

Mona and I have been having some good times together. She's curing me of all my frustrations. If you're a Black man who exclusively dates Black women, you're bound to get frustrated. Of course, women in general frustrate men but navigating the contradictions of Black male/Black female relationships takes a strong heart. The other day, I was on the OC Transpo Bus going from Baseline Station to the town of Orleans where I work. I saw this okay-looking Black guy talking to an average-looking White chick. Their hands were all over each other so I took them to be a couple. Sitting across from them was a beautiful, neatly dressed Black businesswoman. 

I admired the hell out of this sexy sister in the stylish business suit. She's got good looks, good taste in clothing and apparently she has money. Definitely the kind of female I want to know. Yet the Black businesswoman was too busy giving the evil eye to the young interracial couple to notice me admiring her. Wow. That's some Black women for you. Too busy staring at Black guys who date White women to notice the Black men who still want to share their lives with Black women.

Yeah, isn't that a blip? The only way a Black man can get noticed by a Black woman is if he's walking around with a White woman. Wow. If you think this is bad, I've got another story for you. The other day I was walking around inside this mall in downtown Ottawa. I saw this nice-looking Black chick working at this fast food place and I said hello to her. I also told her she was very pretty. Just a compliment, that's all. You would have thought I had insulted this sister. She gave me a weird look and then I walked away. I sat down inside the Food Court to eat my meal and next thing I know, the same Black chick from the fast food place sat across from me, with her Black female posse in tow. She stared at me coldly and told me that if I ever approached her again, she'd call security on me. I was stunned. All this for saying hello to her! See what happens when a young Black man living in North America tries to be nice to Black women? They're cold and cruel to him. I'm not a stalker or a weirdo, folks. All I did was tell this sister that she was pretty. What was my crime? I don't know. I finished my meal and left the mall before this crazy Black witch could get me in trouble. I'm in Canada to make some money and get my degree. I don't need to have my life and my future jeopardized by some crazy Black witch. Life is too short for that.

So for a while, I decided to fish in different waters. This nerdy-looking Asian chick named Andrea Lee approached me while I was visiting a buddy of mine at Algonquin College. I thought she was okay. Standing five-foot-six, lean, with short black hair, light bronze skin and dark brown eyes. Andrea Lee was visiting Ottawa from the City of Vancouver. And she seemed fascinated by me. After my experience with the psycho Black chick inside the mall, I wasn't eager to chase Black women. Not if they were ready to tear me apart for saying hello. I decided to give this Asian chick a try. And you know what? I didn't regret it. Andrea was good company, smart and good in bed. We had some passionate weekends together until she went back to Vancouver. No regrets on either side. We were just a pair of University students having fun.

After Andrea Lee's departure, I continued to chase the ladies. I hooked up with this White chick named Sinead. She was Irish, I think. Tall and red-haired, with green eyes and a curvy figure. A big round butt too. White chicks in Canada actually have nice asses. Who knew? I had some fun with Sinead. She hailed from the City of Galway, somewhere in Ireland. She was studying at the University of Ottawa for a year before returning to the emerald isle, as she calls her homeland. Like so many White women from deep inside Europe, she couldn't wait to hop into bed with a Black man. We did our thing and had our fun. Then she went back to dating White guys and I went back to my Black women. It was simple sexual experimentation, that's all. Sinead wanted to know if Black men were all that. And I guess I was looking for some pussy and since Black women weren't willing to help a brother out, I hooked up with this White broad. We both moved on with our lives.

Now, I'm not foolish enough to think that women of other races come to Black men for anything other than the thrill of novelty or raw sexuality. I know they hold this basically fetishist view of us Black men. I'm looking for a Black woman who actually wants to be with a brother. Shortly after Sinead and I had a parting of ways, I actually met a worthwhile Black woman. The lovely Mona, from the African nation of Djibouti. How about that? This thirty-something sexy Black lady caught my eye while I was walking around Saint Laurent Mall near downtown Ottawa. Five-foot-eleven, with medium brown skin, long Black hair and almond-shaped light brown eyes. The face of Alicia Keys. The body of Ashanti. And the booty of Serena Williams. Now that's how I spell Black woman. Mona absolutely thrilled me, folks. This lovely sister had a Master's degree in business from the University of Montreal in the Province of Quebec. She was actually the Branch Manager of one of the local Royal Banks of Canada. 

Mona was fun, and she was interesting. I learned a lot from that lady. Mona is a well-traveled and well-read sister. She has been to Jamaica, South Africa, Britain, Ghana, Brazil, Ireland, Colombia, Cuba, Australia, the United States of America, the People's Republic of China, and also my native Republic of Haiti. She's published a non-fiction memoir about her travels and it's a national best-seller in Canada. I was amazed by this sister. Mona told me that she dated men of all races but her preference was for Black men. Well, I could sort of relate to that. I've dated women of all races but my preference is for Black women. Lord knows I longed and prayed for a Black woman who actually wants to be with a decent Black man.

Mona was simply amazing, folks. When walking around Ottawa with her, I saw the world through different eyes. Here was a smart, sexy and ambitious sister who actually likes Black men. Her beautiful house in the affluent suburb of Barrhaven was filled with Afro-centric books and paintings. I learned so much from her. She was smart, and also sexy. We had great times together, in and out of bed. This sexy sister rocked my world, folks. She would summon me to her bedroom and ask me to get naked. Then she would lick every inch of my body. She paid particular attention to my dick, my eight-inch, uncircumcised dick. Since she's from a Muslim country, she's fascinated by uncut dicks. She loves to suck me. And you know I don't mind. I like being a natural man. We're more sensitive than other guys and we get more pleasure out of sex, believe it or not.

Mona would suck my cock and balls like her life depended on it. Man, when I finally shoot my cum, she drained me dry. I loved it when she did that. Mona also loved having her pussy licked. And I'm wicked good at eating pussy. I learned the fine art of cunnilingus from Alison, a sexy Cape Verdean sister I met in the City of Brockton, Massachusetts. I would finger and lick Mona's pussy like there was no tomorrow. I made my Djibouti goddess' toes curl. And she would scream my name in multiple languages when I made her cum. Oh, yeah. I rocked her world. Then she would climb on top of me and ride me hard. These sexy older Black women can break a young man if he's unprepared for their sexual fury. Well, this brother is always prepared. And I've got energy to burn.

Folks, I loved fucking Mona. Putting my sexy African goddess on all fours, face down and ass up. Why? Because that's the way I like to fuck! I would spank Mona's big butt while thrusting my dick into her snatch. The stuff that came out of her mouth while I fucked her would make a sailor blush. This conservative Muslim sister can curse with the best of them. I would pull her hair and spank her big butt hard while fucking her. Mona was a freak. And she liked it raunchy. Sometimes she fingered my asshole while going down on me. She even surprised the hell out of me one day by inserting a small dildo up my ass during oral sex. I was surprised but to be honest, I was actually kind of turned on. Later she actually took things a step further and donned a strap-on dildo before fucking my ass with it. Yep, she put me on all fours and frigging mounted me. I felt weird about the whole thing. Turned on, and also disturbed. However, when she stroked my dick while sliding her dildo up my ass, it actually felt kind of good. Mona cursed and went buck-wild while slamming the dildo up my ass. I screamed in pain mixed with pleasure. Man, I came more than ever before after this kinky fuck session. I was amazed.

Mona is into anal sex, both giving and receiving. I just love it when she's in a receiving mood. She gets on all fours, and spreads her big butt cheeks wide open. I position myself behind her and press my dick against her asshole. Slowly, I ease my way into her ass. Mona fingers her pussy while I begin fucking her in the ass. And just like that, we start going at it. Holding her wide hips tightly, I slam my dick up her ass. I love fucking my woman in the ass and she loves it even more. We both cum copiously after some raunchy backdoor loving. I love my Mona!

Life in Ottawa is turning out to be okay, folks. I know why I came here. I'm in Ottawa to study and make some money. When I'm done with Carleton University, I will return to Boston and work in the private sector. Until then, I'm having some fun in Ottawa while keeping out of trouble. There are lots of sexy young Black women in Ottawa but they don't notice young Black men. At least not the Black men who like Black women. They're too busy fuming over Black guys who date White women to notice Black men like me, who prefer them. Lucky for me, I've got Mona. A sexy Black MILF who likes young Black men. We're a good fit for each other at the moment. We take care of each other's needs, and there's nothing wrong with that.



Why Black Women Love Black Men



My name is Damika Jenna Brown but everybody calls me Sweets.  I stand six feet five inches tall and weigh three hundred and seventy five pounds.  In this life, I love two things, rough sex and contact sports. In that order. Back in the day, I was quite the athlete. I played football for Brockton Community High School and Bridgewater State College. And I slept with a lot of the big guys on these schools varsity football teams. These days, I'm a professional Sumo Wrestler. I wrestle against both men and women in the sacred ring. Yes, big women are now a part of the Professional Sumo Wrestling circuit. Deal with it because we're not going anywhere. And this is what I do to have fun, folks. I'm a big Black woman with big tits, wide hips and a thick, round ass. And I like my sex nasty, thank you very much. I mean, is there anything better than hot raunchy sex?

Right now, I'm on my hands and knees, sucking the eight-inch, uncircumcised Black cock of a big Black man named Forrest Wilson. He's a state policeman living in the city of Boston and we've been pals for years.  I come to him in his South End apartment whenever I need some sexual fine tuning. This five-foot-eleven, bulky and chubby Black guy really likes big women. Especially big Black women like myself. It's cool to know that we big Black women have our admirers. I was beginning to think that the skinny females of the planet all the fun.

I love going down on a brother. Especially big Black guys like Forrest. He's got the most delicious cock and balls I've ever seen. And he knows how to use them. I suck Forrest's dick until he cums, then I drink his manly juice. A lot of females don't like to drink cum but I don't have that problem. I absolutely love the taste of male semen. Especially a Black man's sweet masculine juice.  That's why they call me Sweets, I guess.  I suck Forrest's dick until he gives up the last drop. Then he's ready to fuck me. I turn around and spread my plump ass cheeks wide open. Forrest smiles and rubs his big Black cock against my asshole. I absolutely hate it when he teases me like this. I want him to stick his big Black cock up my ass. My hairy Black pussy is already wet with anticipation.

Forests wants me to beg him for the dick. I am not too proud to beg. You see, I'm desperately addicted to anal sex and he knows it. I can't get off any other way. Vaginal sex does nothing for me. Forrest pushes his big Black cock into my asshole, and I sigh in relief. Finally, there's a big Black dick in my ass.  I beg Forrest to fuck me harder. The big Black man caresses my rump while sliding his cock deep into my asshole. I don't like the whole love-me-tender thing. Rough sex is what I like. Forrest finally stops pussyfooting around and rams his dick deep into my shit hole. Almost balls deep. I gasp in shocked pleasure. Oh, yeah. His big dick feels good in my asshole.  I roar at him, telling him to spank my fat Black ass and fuck me. Laughing, Forrest promises me to do exactly that.

Forrest grabs a handful of my long Black hair and yanks my head backwards while slamming his thick Black cock deep into my asshole. There is something to be said for a man who knows how to fuck a woman properly.  Forrest is such a man. He spanks my big round ass hard, leaving it stinging. I back my fat ass up, grinding it against his groin.  He thrusts his cock even deeper into my asshole. Forrest tells me how much he loves sodomizing big Black women like myself. I love it when he talks dirty. He calls me a ghetto slut and a big-booty ho while sliding his big Black cock in and out of my asshole. I like it in and out. I want his cock to stretch my asshole until it's permanently dilated.  I want him to tear my ass up. It's the only way I experience sexual pleasure these days because my vagina is completely numb.  Forrest smacks my ass and delights in the way I make my booty clap while getting fucked in the ass. Yes, folks. This big Black woman knows how to do the booty clap.  Even during anal sex. It makes mad women jealous and drives men wild. Seriously. I recommend it to any woman who's trying to keep her man happy by sexing him down.  The booty clap move during anal sex is difficult to master but it's not something your man is likely to ever forget.

Black and Hispanic women know about this move. White chicks don't even know its existence. That's why Black and Hispanic men keep coming back to us.  Forrest is really hammering me now. He's sliding his cock up my asshole like it's nothing. I tell him to fuck my fat Black ass like he's paying for it.  Sometimes, the things that come out of my own mouth absolutely and positively amaze me.  Forrest rams his dick up my butt hole, going balls deep. I start to scream but no sound comes out of my mouth. That's because I've been stunned into butt-fucking nirvana.  

Forrest's big Black dick fills my asshole completely. It's packed so tight but I couldn't squeeze a fart even if I wanted to.  And that's exactly what I like to happen.  With a move executed using muscle control most men didn't even know some women have, I squeeze my anal walls and they in turn put the squeeze on Forrest's dick. I tell him to cum because I want to experience the rush of his manly seed deep within my asshole. Forrest hesitates. He doesn't want to cum yet. That's too bad because I got to have what I want. So my ass squeezes his dick harder. Groaning, he shoots his load deep inside of me.  We scream in unison as his cock unleashes wave after wave of hot manly cum deep within my asshole. Now that's what I'm talking about!

Slowly, Forrest squeezes his cock out of my asshole. And I accidentally squeeze out a fart. Forrest laughs, and smacks my ass. I laugh too. Hey, no shame between fuck buddies. Besides, Forrest loves it when I fart after getting fucked in the ass.  I put my clothes back on, and tell him I'm seeing him the next time I'm in town. He's okay with that. We have a good arrangement. We're both working African-American professionals. He needs some booty and I need some dick. We take care of each other's needs. It's purely sexual between us. Life is good. 



Why Black Women Love Black Women



Catalina Saint Vincent is my name. I'm a five-foot-eleven, quite curvy and delicious big-bottomed young Black woman of Haitian-American and Puerto Rican descent living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. Many people accuse me of being naïve because I've led a somewhat sheltered life. That's not true. I'm the most down to earth and realistic person you will ever meet. My father Raymond Saint Vincent moved to the United States of America from Haiti when he was nineteen. Like a lot of young Black men and Black women living in the Republic of Haiti at the time, he moved to America during the late 1970s to escape the then-reigning President Duvalier's paramilitary dictatorship. He's now a respected tax attorney in South Boston and the senior partner of a firm which employs thirty five attorneys. 

My mother Helen Santiago is of Puerto Rican and African descent. She's a Professor of Literature at UMass-Boston. We live in a nice mansion in Brockton's quiet West Side. Ours is an affluent yet nicely integrated neighborhood. Our immediate neighbors are Jews, African-Americans, Polish-Americans, Mexican-Americans, Haitians, Jamaicans and Cape Verdeans. Mine is the oldest family on the block. My parents moved here decades ago. I have an older brother and an older sister. My brother Eric is a police officer in nearby Milton, where he lives with his wife Anna and their two sons, Gregory and Stuart. My sister Marguerite attends Wellesley College. We do alright for ourselves. I consider myself very lucky and I'm thankful to have such a wonderful family. 

I have some wonderful news to share with you. The best news a young lesbian could have. I've won the heart of my beloved Amelia Jean-Baptiste, the woman I've been in love with since forever. Sometimes, you meet someone and just fall in love with them right away. I had just graduated high school when my mother Helen's old friend Amelia Jean-Baptiste came for a visit. She moved to Brockton after divorcing her husband Jake O'Shea and leaving the wealthy Black enclave of Oak Bluffs in Martha's Vineyard forever. Amelia Jean-Baptiste was a striking lady. Six feet tall, lean, with dark brown skin, short Black hair and pale gray eyes. A gorgeous gal of African-American and Irish descent. She met my mother Helen during their freshman year at Pine Manor College, more than twenty years ago. They've been real good friends since those days.

Amelia Jean-Baptiste took a teaching position at Zulu College, a historically Black private school located in the heart of Boston. The school was founded in 1981 by local civil rights activists and philanthropists and named after King Shaka Zulu, the legendary leader of the Zulu Kingdom who fought for the cause of Black Independence in South Africa during the 1800s. My parents were stunned when I decided to attend a historically Black school. I had acceptance letters from Boston College, Boston University, Northeastern University, Bridgewater State College and Curry College. I've been attending rich white schools my whole life. In college, I wanted to be surrounded by my own people. Zulu College appealed to me. An accredited school with a student body of eight thousand persons, offering associates, bachelors and masters degrees in seventy fields.

This goes to show you that Black people can accomplish great things, even though racist individuals and their nefarious institutions continue trying to slow us down. They're not relenting. Especially now that a Black man is President of America, and we have Black Governors in the states of New York and Massachusetts. Whites will be minorities in America before I'm old enough to retire. Diversity is here to stay. I wish those backwards fools would get with the program. Oh, well. All I can do is live my life and try to excel.

I've wanted to attend a Black school for as long as I can remember. However, what really bothers me is that many talented Black students value the rich white schools over the sturdy and resilient, academically challenging worlds of the HBCU. In case you don't know, HBCU stands for historically Black college or university. Top notch schools like Morehouse College, Howard University, Spelman College and Alabama State University are prime examples of what an HBCU can be. The men and women attending these schools are bright scholars. Let no one tell you otherwise. Zulu College welcomed me with open arms. At long last, I was among my own kind. Other talented young Black men and women pursuing higher education.

Zulu College's campus was pretty neat, and lively. African-American students make up seventy three percent of the student body. Native Americans, Caucasians, Asians and Hispanics make up the remaining twenty seven percent. Not bad. I could live with those demographics. The campus was so charming. Everyone was so friendly. I visited the twelve-floor-library, the four cafeterias, the four administration buildings and the eighteen classroom buildings. What really impressed me were the athletic facilities. The football stadium could house a small city! Zulu College student-athletes competed in men's and women's Basketball, men's and women's Swimming, men's and women's Lacrosse, men's and women's Soccer, women's Field Hockey, women's Rugby, men's and women's Tennis, men's and women's Cross Country, men's Football, women's Volleyball and men's and women's Track & Field. I decided to sign up for the women's Lacrosse team. I played Lacrosse in high school and I was good at it. Why not give it a shot in college?

There were a lot of pretty young Black women at the school. Makes sense since Zulu College used to be an all-female school until 1999. That's when the board of directors voted to admit male students in an effort to boost lagging enrollment trends. A decade later, men make up forty eight percent of the student body. I'm glad to see lots of brothers on campus, but I'm all about the sisters. Especially the hot ones. Hey, I'm a lesbian, alright? You got that? Cool. Would you believe who my Introduction to Political Oratory professor was? None other than Amelia Jean-Baptiste, my mother's old friend.

The first time I saw her on campus, professor Amelia Jean-Baptiste looked good enough to eat. She totally killed it in a red silk shirt, Black silk pants and sexy high-heels the first day of classes. Hot damn. The sight of that woman made me get hot in funny places. There were eleven women and nine men in the class. The chicks looked okay. Two of the sisters, Monique and Isabel, looked hot. Robin, the only white chick in the class was alright. Ramona, a feisty Latin mama, looked very sexy. Especially with those short skirts she liked to wear. However, no one caught my attention like professor Amelia Jean-Baptiste. I don't know how I could have missed it but she had one hell of a booty on her. Thick and round, just the way I liked them. I had only one question. Was she down for my kind of action?

It's no secret that young Black lesbians like myself have a serious Jones for mature Black women. Seriously. I've got several Black female friends who are gay and bisexual and like me, they think older Black women are hot. My parents still don't know I'm a lesbian. Even though I got pictures of Black female celebrities like Ashanti, Beyonce Knowles, Lisaraye McCoy, Elise Neal, Pam Grier, Janet Jackson, Regina Hall, Drew Sidora, Candace Parker, Gabrielle Union, Vivica A. Fox, Gina Torres, Alicia Keys and Sanaa Lathan all over my bedroom wall. All of these are fine Black women whose images haunt my dreams. I love watching them on TV. Hell yeah. Can't take my eyes off them.

Professor Amelia Jean-Baptiste definitely fell into that category of super-hot Black mamas who haunt young Black dykes dreams. And I was determined to have her for myself. How did I do it? Oh, I basically began to stalk her. And she never knew what hit her. I'm cute, and I look innocent. I've got big doe eyes and I'm oh-so charming. And with a big butt too. People never see me coming. Even though I've been a top scholar my entire life, I led professor Amelia Jean-Baptiste to believe that I needed some extra attention. I'd show up at her office during office hours, and we'd have a little chat. She was friendly, and charming.

Little by little, I learned tidbits about who Amelia Jean-Baptiste was. She recently got divorced, and had apparently sworn off men. Hmm. I hear a lot of straight women say that. As a lesbian, it pisses me off royally because they almost never mean it. They bitch about men for a while, then they meet some hunk and can't wait to get into his pants. Yeah. Amelia was in a bit of a vulnerable spot at the moment. Her divorce had taken its toll on her. She still carried some emotional wounds, deep inside. I have this amazing ability for spotting people's weaknesses and then zeroing in on them like a shark sniffing blood. I knew exactly what Amelia Jean-Baptiste. She needed to feel strong, outgoing and in control again. People usually feel strong when they meet someone who requires their strength. It reasserts their sense of superiority. Whether Amelia realized it or not, she needed someone hot, inexperienced and naïve. I've been around the block quite a few times but I can still play naïve newcomer. And if that's what she needs, then that's what I will be for her.

As needed in this game, I completely shifted myself. Going from hardcore young dyke who's been hooking up with sexy women left and right for years and years to confused chick experiencing a sexual awakening. I told Amelia that I admired her. She was such a strong, independent and powerful Black woman. I asked her to be my mentor, and she was thrilled to accept. Game, set, and almost match, folks. For the next few weeks, Amelia and I became inseparable. Seriously. I followed her around like a lovesick puppy. She took me around Boston, showing me movie theaters, museums and other fun places. We also had some fun when she took me to Copley Mall and we dined at a nice, upscale restaurant. Amelia definitely did well for herself. Later I learned that she walked away with two hundred and sixty grand as part of her divorce settlement from her multi-millionaire ex-husband. Wow.

Amelia wouldn't tell me the reasons for the divorce. All she would say was that she and her husband wanted different things. And she discovered certain things about herself which made her look at life in a new light. If that's not code for someone's going gay, I don't know what is! I was definitely on the right track with the lovely Amelia Jean-Baptiste. One afternoon, she invited me to hang out at her place. I knew right then that I was in like a villain. That day, I went to Amelia's house wearing a Black tank top with a short red skirt. It was October, and the New England weather was still okay. To say she was shocked when she saw me would have been an understatement. I knew exactly what I was doing.

Amelia lived in a nice, two-story house located near the high school in Brockton's West Side. Right across the Fair Grounds of Brockton. A beautiful place. We sat in her living room, quietly sipping margaritas while chatting the afternoon away. I looked longingly at Amelia, and asked her if I could take a look at her pool. Grinning, she nodded. Oh, my. This was all too easy. Amelia is a sweet, kind of trusting and wonderfully vulnerable woman. Ten times what I need, folks. We went into her backyard, which boasted of the highest fences in the neighborhood. I admired the pool, which was big enough for ten people to use without bumping into each other. Wow. I 'accidentally' fell inside, and crashed with a big splash. With a cry of alarm, Amelia asked me if I was alright. I nodded, then asked her to come inside. She shook her head. I looked at her with my puppy eyes and she grinned as she finally relented. Off came her shirt and pants. Stripped to her bra and panties, she went into the pool. I looked at the tall, sexy Black lady who stood before me and licked my lips. This was going to be good.

Amelia looked really good in the water. I looked her up and down. Hot damn. She had the kind of athletic body few females ever had. Pretty thick, curvy, muscular and athletic at the same time. Like Serena Williams. But with a bigger booty. I like what I see. I splashed water at Amelia, and she laughed and backed down. What the heck? I guess someone wants to play hard to get. I splashed water at her, and she laughed and fled from me. I chased her, and caught her. Amelia looked at me with alarmed eyes. I smiled at her, and told her to relax. Then I kissed her. And you know what? She kissed me right back.

I wasn't prepared for how fiercely she kissed me back. I was stunned. I seriously thought Amelia was new to these things, that she found herself curious about women after her divorce. What a colossal mistake I made. She was kissing me passionately, like an experienced woman and not some newcomer. When our lips parted, I stared at her, stunned. Amelia smiled knowingly, and pinched my big butt. I jerked involuntarily. She laughed, and told me to follow her. At this point, I felt like I was losing control of this seduction. Amelia flipped things on me so fast my head was still spinning. One thing for sure, I definitely wanted her as I watched her big sexy ass in her Black underwear as she climbed out of the pool. With a grin on my face, I followed her to the living room.

What happened next was definitely out of character for me. I mean, I'm usually quite butch, in spite of my very beautiful and ultra-feminine appearance. So believe me when I tell you letting Amelia boss me around was a change of pace. The lady took me to the bedroom, where we got down. She undressed me, then put me to bed. Taking my face into her hands, she kissed me tenderly. Then she caressed my breasts, licking a path from my lips to my throat. I felt my flesh become enflamed with desire for her as she continued to run her hands all over me. Those incredibly knowing hands of hers played with my breasts, pinching the areolas. I gasped. Amelia laughed, and asked me to relax. I looked into her eyes and something amazing happened. I just let go, and that's when the magic happened.

Amelia took care of me, as they say. This was all so confusing for me. I don't consider myself a submissive person. In my relationships, I'm always the aggressor. When I seduced my best friend Tamika, I was the chaser. I usually do all the work in my relationships. Making the big decisions, taking care of things, and pleasing my women. Yet with Amelia, something was different. I simply let go, and let her take me because she wanted me to. I felt like putty in her hands. She kissed my lips and fondled my breasts, arousing me like no one ever has. When she began caressing my inner thigh, I hesitated. Amelia kissed me again, and told me to relax. I nodded, and watched as she spread my thighs. Her fingers found my pussy, and darted inside. I gasped as she entered me. Locking eyes with me, Amelia slipped two fingers into my wetness. 

No one has ever done that to me before. Usually I go down on my women, not the other way around. Yet here was Amelia, taking charge of me in more ways than one. A playful yet tender look filled her eyes as she fucked my pussy with her fingers. I was tense at first, but as she worked her magic on me, I relaxed and enjoyed what she was doing to me. After enduring this sweet torture for a while, I was ready for me. Amelia was ready to give me more, but she wanted to hear me say it. I stared at her through narrowed eyes. She's so slick. But I'm too horny and too far gone to care. I heard myself beg her to lick my pussy. Grinning, Amelia went to work. 

Amelia gently spread my thighs even further, and breathed in the scent of my womanhood. Luckily, I keep everything fresh down there. She began probing my clit with her fingers before licking me. I arched my beg, allowing her greater access inside of me. Amelia began giving my pussy a tongue bath. I couldn't believe I was letting this woman go down on me. This is not my usual M.O. But what the hell? It's always fun to be different. Amelia was really, really good at eating pussy. She took her sweet time, too. I admired her technique. Every woman likes to have her pussy licked differently. Some like it fast and aggressive, others prefer it slow and tender. Since I've never let a female go down on me before, I couldn't possibly tell you what my style was. Somehow, Amelia seemed to get it right anyway. Alternating between quick licks and aggressive thrusts of her fingers into my snatch, she rocked my world. The woman made me squeal in delight as I came for the very first time. I came, and it was spectacular. Amelia watched in amazement as my pussy squirted all over her face. She drank from me and brought her fingers to my lips. I tasted myself on her fingers. We shared a passionate kiss. And that's all she wrote, folks.

The next morning, I woke up next to Amelia Jean-Baptiste. Another first for me. I never stay overnight at the house of some chick I'm trying to seduce. I'm usually out of there after getting some ass. Amelia served me breakfast in bed. The kind of tasty goodies that go straight to my thighs. Omelet, hot dogs, buttered bread and orange juice. We ate in silence. I was still stunned by last night's events. I stayed overnight. And I let her seduce me. Wow. She seduced me. Not the other way around. How in hell did that happen? What do I do now? Amelia told me to finish my breakfast and then get dressed. We had a busy day ahead of ourselves. I sighed. There she goes bossing me around again. What gives? She smiled at me and I nodded. Complied. Ugh. I'm so whipped.

I took a shower, still concerned about my actions and their consequences. While I showered, Amelia had gone to her closet and found something which actually fit me. We were both tall and athletic. Makes sense. I put on the Black silk shirt and blue jeans she handed me, and tied my hair in a bun. Then we went out in her bright red convertible. We went to Westgate Mall and she took me to one of the stores. To buy me some hot items. Shopping with her was fun, and confusing. We were doing couple-type stuff. Were we a couple?

I was still wrestling with all that when she dropped me back at my dorm. This was the beginning of exciting and confusing times for me. Butch young Black chick seduced by mature Black female professor. What a headline that would make in a lesbian gazette! I didn't see Amelia for a couple of days, but we kept in touch by phone. I even added her as a friend on Facebook. She did make me promise to keep our thing a secret, though. Apparently, Zulu College had certain regulations against faculty dating students. I understood. The more I thought about it, the more okay our relationship seemed to me. I was living the dream of many young Black lesbians. Going out with a sexy older Black woman. One who was gorgeous, friendly, great in bed and liked spending money on me. Yeah, I had it good. I was fond of Amelia. I just didn't count on falling in love with her.

Oh, man. Sometimes I feel like I'm in way over my head. I'm a nineteen-year-old Black female student dating her thirty-nine-year-old Black female professor. A professor who happens to be my mother's best friend, former co-worker and former sorority sister. Yeah, it's kind of complicated. However, I enjoyed her company. And the sex was off the hook. One time, we hooked up in her office one Friday afternoon. She made me scream loud enough to wake the dead. It's not just the sex and our hanging out together that I enjoyed. I liked holding Amelia in my arms as she shared her stories with me. She told me how she met her husband, a wealthy Irishman named Jake O'Shea. They ended up getting married. His family wasn't exactly very accepting of her. And they didn't hide their disapproval. He failed to stick up for her. That's part of why she left him. She swore off men and interracial relationships for good. That's more than okay by me because I got to have her. Right place, right time and right frame of mind. I'm a young Black woman who loves Black women. Enough said.




Why Black Women Love Black Women



One day, out of the blue, I told Amelia that I loved her. Amelia seemed stunned. The two of us were sitting inside Tamboo, a certain upscale Haitian restaurant located on Main Street in Brockton. We had some privacy. There were a lot of well-dressed, neat-looking people in the restaurant. Black folks, Hispanics and Cape Verdeans. An Irish person here and there. The core demographics of Brockton. Tamboo boasted of a diverse clientele. It was just the two of us in a corner. I took Amelia's hand and kissed it. Then I told her I loved her. She was shocked. Smiling, I pulled something out of my pocket. A four-hundred-dollar ring I bought from the jeweler next door. I put it in the palm of Amelia's hand, and closed it. Amelia's eyes went wide. I smiled, and waited for a reaction. Before everyone, Amelia rose from her seat, grabbed my face and kissed me. Inside the restaurant, folks hooted and hollered. Especially the guys. 

Amelia kissed me full and deep, and looked at me adoringly once we came up for air. In front of everyone, she told me she loved me. I smiled at her and she smiled at me. All around us, people were clapping. I smiled and waved. Amelia waved too. It's times like these that I'm thankful to live in Massachusetts. The first state to legalize Same-Sex Marriage. The first state to elect a Black man as Governor. A place where most people value their fellow human beings regardless of race, gender or sexual orientation. I'm glad to live in Brockton, a New England city of nearly one hundred thousand people where around fifty two percent of the population is Black, Hispanic, Asian, Middle-Eastern, Native American and some other group. Minorities are the majority. Amazing.

Here I was, a young Black woman desperately in love with another Black woman, and our displays of love were cheered by men and women as diverse as can be. A Mexican lady dining with her Black boyfriend blew us a kiss. An Irish guy drinking with his Cape Verdean buddy winked at us. A Haitian guy gave us a high-five. An elderly Black woman sharing a meal with her husband, a bespectacled elder Black male, nodded at us approvingly. Wow. I guess race, sexual orientation and gender aren't the rigid barriers we've been led to think they are. Maybe, to some people at least, love is simply love. I felt tears well up in my eyes. Amelia swept me into her arms and kissed me. And the cheers began again. God, I love this woman!

It's been two months since Amelia and I started seeing each other. I love her and she loves me. I've told my closest friends. I told my older sister when she came home from Wellesley. I've yet to tell my parents. I'm not sure how they're going to take it, especially my mother. Small steps, though. I recently told them that I'm gay, and they were surprisingly supportive. I'm still not sure how they're going to react when they find out who the love of my life is, though. One step at a time, I guess. Amelia and I spend every minute of our free time together. She's asked me to move in with her. When I'm ready, of course. She doesn't want to pressure me. I want to live with her so badly, but we've got a lot of steps to take between now and then. This December, I'm going to introduce my parents to my secret love. Amelia and I are both nervous as hell. We're keeping our fingers crossed. Wish us luck. 



Why Black Women Love White Males



The funny things in this life never cease to amaze me. My name is Victor James O'Neill. A big and tall Irishman born and bred in the City of Dallas, in the State of Texas. I currently live in the town of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I am the new Executive Director of Special Projects for Sienna Corporation's new branch in the Confederation of Canada. I make good money and life is cool but I find Ottawa utterly boring. I need to find some excitement. Luckily, the local ladies are turned on by my country charm and my Texan drawl. Especially the local Black women. Life is good!

I met this tall, beautiful young Black woman named Diana Brownstone and she simply took my breath away. Five feet eleven inches tall, with jet-Black skin, long hair neatly braided into cornrows and a curvy body. Not to mention large breasts, wide hips and a big round butt. I've got a thing for Black women. Hell, when I was younger I used to hang out in Houston just to chase Black women. I did that in my twenties and I see no reason to stop in my fifties. Why in hell should I stop? Anyhow, I met this sexy Black lady and she blew me away with the things she wanted me to do to her.

First and foremost, I want you folks to know that I'm not a racist. I grew up in a racially diverse City. I had African-American friends and Mexican friends as well as Asians. My best friend Leroy Antoine is of African-American descent. He's a patrol officer with the Dallas Sheriff's Department. Leroy is married to my sister Mary O'Neill, a fiery Irish redhead with a heart as big as the State of Texas. I gave her away at their wedding. See? I'm an okay guy for a redneck. The City of Dallas is really diverse these days. That's why I was so uncomfortable with the young Black woman's fantasy. Simply put she is into Race Play. What is Race Play? A really controversial sexual practice. Basically it involves acting out certain sexual scenarios involving Race. Most of the time, Race Play involves a White couple inviting a well-hung Black male into their bedroom. He proceeds to fuck the White woman while the White man watches. Yeah, you've seen it a thousand times in porn movies. There are other scenarios which most people would find it even more shocking. Diana Brownstone set out to educate me about her fascination with Race Play.

Diana Brownstone showed me videos of explicit sexual material. I thought I had seen it all but damn, she managed to shock even me. I watched one of her videos as a chubby, blonde-haired White woman flogged a very tall, muscular Black male who was attached to a wooden pole, his hands and feet bound by thick steel chains. The White woman repeatedly berated the Black male as she whipped him. And the whole time he seemed to be enjoying himself. The scene playing out on the video went on for another few minutes as the White lady continued abusing the Black gentleman, seemingly with his consent. I couldn't believe my eyes. I watched, fascinated as the White lady whipped out a strap-on dildo. She made the Black guy suck on it after removing his bindings. Obediently he sucked the White mistress strap-on dildo. Can you guess what she did afterwards? The fat White lady bent the big and tall Black male over and stuffed his ass with her strap-on dildo. Yep, you read right. She fucked him with her dildo. And he was a real screamer too. I had never seen anything like it. Wow. You couldn't pay me to do that, folks. Seriously. I told Diana to stop the tape. I had seen enough.

I looked at Diana Brownstone, almost afraid to speak. I sure as hell hope she didn't intend to ask to try anything of the kind. I love women but there are things I just won't do. Taking it up the ass is one of them. Sorry, ladies. I have my limits, you know? Luckily, Diana had something altogether different in mind. This gorgeous young Black woman explained her personal fantasies to me. She was curious about submission within a sexual and racial context. Her whole life she had only dated Black men. Lately, she found herself experimenting sexually with men and women of other races. Okay. Nothing wrong with that. I mainly dated White women in my early days but discovered I really liked Black women and Asian women in my twenties. And I haven't looked back since. I told Diana Brownstone there was absolutely nothing wrong with her fantasies. She smiled at me. And we began going out, getting to know each other better.

Diana Brownstone was a really fun gal. A third-year student at Carleton University, also known as Canada's Capital University. She was studying engineering. Her last boyfriend, a handsome young Haitian-American named Miguel Saint Pierre left her when he caught her making out with a White guy named Sean O'Leary, from the City of Calgary. Diana was interested in Sean but Sean quickly ditched her after they slept together. He was okay with sleeping with a young Black woman but not really cool with publicly dating one. He went back to dating Amber, his blonde girlfriend. Diana was crushed but still found herself attracted to White males. She desperately wanted to find one to explore her sexual fantasies with. I guess that's where I come in.

Diana and I got it on one night after a fun night at the clubs. Diana and I had previously talked about what we wanted to do, and we were both comfortable with it. I played the role of the dominant White male plantation owner and she played the part of the Black female slave. I was okay with playing my part. And so was Diana. I sat on the bed, completely naked. She came to me, naked as well. I feasted my eyes on her exotic beauty. Her big breasts, wide hips and big butt appealed to me immensely, as did her glistening dark skin. In her hands she carried a tray. She came on the bed and fed me grapes while calling me Master. And you know what? I liked how it sounded coming out of her mouth. I liked the word. And I liked her too. After she fed me grapes, I smiled and asked her to rub my feet. Smiling, Diana nodded. She not only rubbed my feet, she also sucked on my toes. Man, I was really enjoying myself. Is that wrong? Some discomfort was felt by me when Diana asked me to call her a certain word during the games. You know which word. I hesitated. I've been told I should never say that word. Well, with a Black woman's permission, I said it. And she loved it.

I called Diana by that particular term as our fun and games continued. She knelt before me and sucked on my dick. Amazingly, she took my eight and a half inches of uncircumcised Irish cock in her mouth. I smiled and patted her head, telling her she was doing a good job. She sucked me until I came, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Man, I really enjoyed this. Afterwards, we got to the actual fucking. I took Diana from behind. Face down and ass up, as she happily put it. I slammed my dick into her cunt. Diana moaned in pleasure and urged me to call her by that controversial term while I fucked her. I happily did. I got even more turned on when she asked me to fuck her in the ass. I spread her big butt cheeks wide open and pressed my dick against her asshole. After lubricating both her asshole and my dick, of course. I eased my dick into her asshole. It felt warm and tight around my member. I held her by her hips and gently fucked her in the ass. Diana screamed in pleasure mixed with pain, urging me to fuck her harder. I did it happily, burying my dick in the forbidden depths of her asshole. I fucked her until we both came who knows how many times.

This was the first of many passionate nights for my dear Diana and I. We're always trying wild stuff in the bedroom. And we get along wonderfully outside the bedroom. Sometimes, White women in Ottawa give me dirty looks when they see me with Diana, a young Black woman. I tell these White women to sit their flat butts down. And Diana smiles at the Black men who sometimes stare when they see the two of us together. We're happy together, folks. I love her and she loves me. She will graduate from Carleton University soon. When my assignment in Ottawa ends, I'm taking her to Dallas with me. I think I finally found my better half. Happy trails, folks.



Why Black Women Love White Men



My name is Fatima Johnson. A big Black woman living in the city of Nepean, Province of Ontario. I used to have a very different life. Back in the day, I worked for the Canadian Revenue Service. I had my MBA from McMaster University and I was well on my way to becoming a force to reckon with. At least in business circles. I was married to a good-looking Black man named Jerome Johnson, a proud member of the Ontario Provincial Police. We had a son and daughter together. Jacob and Ashley Johnson. I was but vaguely unsatisfied.

You see, I had these forbidden fantasies. Before I got married, I used to sleep around. I have a thing for White men. Yeah, I'm that Black slut who secretly craves White cock. I'm really bossy around my friends and family but I'm really submissive around White men. I don't know why. Anyway, during my college days, I had an affair with a handsome White male professor named Liam O'Keefe. And he introduced me to BDSM and Race Play. We used to act some really kinky and controversial sexual scenarios. He used to play the role of the White plantation owner having his way with a wanton Black female slave. A role I relished and happily played.

I really enjoyed it when the professor called me a wanton Black slut and treated me like his own personal bitch. I relished it when he called me some really nasty names. Whenever he used slurs with me, it turned me on. I loved it when he bent me over his knee and spanked my big black butt. I liked it when he took out his whip and whipped my back, chest, ass and even my face. I truly enjoyed it when he tied me up and made me suck his big White cock before fucking me in the ass. Yeah, we had some really kinky fun. Want to know the really strange part? I was the President of the Black Women's Association at McMaster University. It was the early 1980s. There were one hundred and fifty Black women along with one hundred and twenty two Black men at McMaster University. Diversity was just starting at Canada's major universities. 

That was twenty years ago. I've gotten married and put professor O'Keefe and our forbidden sexual history behind. Lately, I noticed that I've been snapping at my husband. He's a good-looking, educated and decent brother. He treats me right. He buys me gifts. He takes me on long trips. He's a devoted husband and father. And he never takes me for granted. My husband is the kind of Black man that most Black women would kill to have. Yet I felt unhappy with him. Our son and daughter could sense that something was wrong. They noticed how cold I've become. Not just to their father but also to them. I've neglected my family. And I didn't know why. I guess I knew deep down. I was unsatisfied with my life. Lots of Black women would kill to have what I have. A six-foot-two, good-looking, kind-hearted and virile Black male for a husband. A spectacular hubby who's a sergeant with the Ontario Provincial Police and holds a Master's degree in Criminology from Carleton University. A son and daughter who are church-going and academically driven, university-bound and determined. Yeah, I had everything a Black woman could want. Yet I wanted more.

What more did I want? If I may be truly honest here, I didn't like my life. I was the picture of respectability with my gorgeous husband, lively son and daughter, my job with the Canadian government and my big house in the suburb of Orleans. However, I was still a wanton Black slut inside. I wanted something my husband couldn't give me. He's got a nine-inch dick that would make Black women, Asian women and Hispanic women squeal with pleasure. Not to mention White women of course. Yet I'm not happy with him. No matter how well he treats me I'm always a bitch to him. I don't appreciate anything he does. He is puzzled and chagrined by what I do. My Black female friend Keisha Kensington, a corrections officer in Toronto, constantly gets on my case for how badly I mistreat my hubby. I can't help it. I don't want a good Black man who treats me right. Most Black women don't want a good Black man deep down. I can at least admit it to myself. I want to be dominated and mistreated. And White men are experts at domination and mistreatment. They do it on a global scale.

Eventually, my husband got fed up with my behaviour. He kicked me out. I wandered the bars and eventually found what I was looking for. A young White man named Vincent O'Malley. A really bossy guy who thinks minorities need to be put in their place. He's a radical who doesn't apologize for his views. Well, I was turned on by his hostility and rhetoric, to his immense surprise. As it turns out, he liked BDSM too. We were a match made in heaven. I moved into his apartment within a week. And I became his own personal Black slut. And you know what? I don't think I've ever been happier. Vincent treats me the way I deserve to be treated. As for my husband and son and daughter? They don't speak to me anymore. My husband and I got divorced. He kept the house and the cars. I didn't want them. He's now dating my friend Keisha Kensington. She's always wanted a good Black man and I hear my ex-hubby is very happy with her.

Vincent is the most dominant man on the planet, folks. Every day when he comes home he expects his place to be clean. I never cooked or cleaned for my Black husband but I cook and clean for my White master. If I don't, Vincent will punish me. I do so love it when he punishes me. He loves to put a leash around my neck and make me kneel before him. I then happily suck his White cock and balls. He tells me that I'm a good Black slut. I know how to properly serve my Master. After sucking his dick, I suck his toes. He bends me over and tugs on my leash while spreading my ass cheeks wide open. He inserts his thick White cock into my asshole. This Black woman loves the feel of a thick White cock in her asshole. And if loving it is wrong then I don't want to be right. After fucking me in my big Black ass, my gorgeous White master kisses me and tells me I'm his favourite Black slut. I smile happily. Then I sleep at the foot of his bed. There whenever he needs me. I don't miss my old life with my ex-husband or my son and daughter. I am exactly where I always wanted to be. This Black woman is happy at last.



Why Black Women Need Black Men



Why Black Women Need Black Men With all of the stuff going on out there in the world, it's easy for one to feel like you're going crazy. Especially if you're a Black person just trying to get by in the maddened world that is North America. All we hear is talk of Black men getting in trouble over females, especially shady white broads. A world-renowned Black professor from Harvard University residing in Cambridge, Massachusetts, causes an uproar around the globe when a white female neighbor assumes he's a burglar ( just because he's Black ) when he comes home from a trip to the People's Republic of China. A Black male Soccer star from the University of California in Santa Barbara is wrongfully convicted of a crime based on the dubious allegation made by a white female student. Amazing.

Yet by the droves Black men are abandoning Black women to chase women of just about every other race. They've forgotten that it's Black women who suffer beside the Black man through thick and thin. Black men and Black women suffer together through the hell that is life in the western world while white women live comfortably under the pedestal provided by the ruthlessly imperialistic white male. Black men these days seem to think white women can love them. Yet when the shit hits the fan, it's to the Black community and to the Black woman that they turn for support. Because I've never heard of white chicks standing by Black men whom the world has turned against. Amazing how quickly white chicks desert the embattled Black man. Yet today's Black men are often touting their relations with white women as superior and more fulfilling than their relationships with Black women. It's almost pathological for them. 

I think I'll pass on that one. Thank you very much. Sexual curiosity isn't love. And cannot buy you love. Only the Black woman can understand and love the Black man. The same holds true for Black men and Black women in Africa, the Caribbean, the Americas and even lofty Europe itself. We love our own. And the rest of the world hates us. The trash of Europe would have us believe they've mended their racist, imperialistic ways. We know better. That's my view. The world according to me. I don't care what anyone else says. And I don't apologize for it.

No one seems to celebrate those Black male and Black female relationships that do work. No one cares when Jamal and Shamika are getting along, yet everyone watches and cheers them on when they're quarreling. America doesn't like seeing Black men and Black women happy together. And many Black men and Black women are buying into the idea that Black relationships just don't work. The television shows, misanthropic books and virulent radio programs continue to fester hatred between Black men and Black women. Black relationships don't work? Give me a bloody break. If Black male and Black female relationships didn't work, then where do today's Black men and Black women come from? We didn't spontaneously generate out of nothingness. We're the products of relationships. Believe it!

Wanda Etienne here. I'm a six-foot-one, busty, dark-skinned and big-bottomed Black woman of Haitian descent living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. One of those rare Black women who still love and cherish the universally embattled Black man of America. Tonight, my husband Anthony and I are throwing ourselves a party. One of those parties where anything goes. You see, we're swingers. Authentic Black swingers. Yes, Black people can be swingers too. Swinging is for everyone. It's not just for white folks in the suburbs. I'm a college professor by day and a hedonist at night. My husband is a Massachusetts State Police Officer and a real master of kink. That's why our parties are off the hook.

Our guests are a Haitian brother named Jacob Fils-Aime and his wife Ellen Brown. Jacob is a big and tall Black man who works as an Assistant District Attorney in our county. His wife Ellen Brown is a short, chubby and big-bottomed Black woman from Great Britain. For years she held the largely ceremonial post of the British Government's Envoy to the Island of Jamaica. A pretty-faced polyglot with a nervous laugh. She's new to the states and now works as the CEO of the Pan-American Christian Charities Coalition, a gathering of wealthy do-gooders. When you first meet these two, they're quite boring but get some liquor into them and they become the life of the party.

We got down and dirty in my house, folks. I sat on my favorite couch, completely naked while holding a glass of merlot in hand. Kneeling before me is the lusty Ellen Brown. This British sister is really good at licking pussy. I can't believe I thought she was a square when we first met while she was visiting my school, Emerson College, a few months ago. You never really can tell about people, especially women. Ellen fingered my snatch and licked my clit, making me almost delirious with pleasure. Hot damn. Where did this woman pick up her skills?

Nearby, I noticed my husband getting busy with Ellen's husband Jacob. My Anthony is a tall, slim brother with light brown skin, curly black hair and light bronze eyes. His parents are Haitian-American and Peruvian, and he inherited the best of both worlds. His Haitian father's height and slim build, and his Peruvian mother's light bronze eyes. He's seriously hot. When we first met at University of Massachusetts in Boston seven years ago, he was the super sexy stud all the chicks on campus wanted. A six-foot-four basketball superstar who seemed like a shoo-in for the NBA. Yet everyone misread him. Anthony wanted to become a cop, not a professional basketball player. When we first started dating, he told me the Black community would be better served if we had more college-educated Black male professionals in the work force. We had more than enough professional football and basketball players. I alone supported him in his choice of career. His friends and family wanted him to play for the Boston Celtics, or some other professional basketball team. He wanted to become a cop because he felt Black people were underrepresented enforcement.

I agreed with his choice of career, and he loved me for it. I fell in love with him the day he walked into my Business Ethics class all sweaty, ten minutes late, with a grin on his handsome face. The brother was fine-looking, sexy as hell and smart as a whip. He would go on to become the first Black male valedictorian our school had in decades. How about that? I loved him from that first day. And nothing could ever make me deviate from that. Even when he told me he was bisexual, I was cool with it. You see, not only am I bisexual too but I also like watching two men having sex together. Especially two sexy Black men. 

As Ellen continued to lick my pussy like a frigging lollipop, I watched Jacob and Anthony as they did their thing. Anthony sat on the couch opposite me as Jacob went down on him. Jacob knelt before my hubby and fastened his lips around Anthony's nine-inch and wickedly thick, uncircumcised Black monster of a cock. I licked my lips as I watched Jacob suck my husband's dick. I've gone down on Anthony's member more times than I can count. It's a jaw-dropping ( and jaw-stretching ) wonder of nature. Jacob tried to get all of it into his mouth and of course he couldn't. I've tried that feat myself and it is simply not possible. My Anthony is well-endowed.

Yet amazingly, Jacob managed to take in most of Anthony's dick. I couldn't believe it. Yeah, the fellows were getting along alright. As for me and Ellen, we did our thing. Sister bent me over and spread my ass cheeks wide open. I felt her moist, wet tongue against my asshole and almost passed out. Hot damn. Ellen was really into ass licking. She started licking and fingering my asshole like it was the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted. I am into anal play but I never had my ass licked before. This is turning out to be fun.

Speaking of anal play, my Anthony is tearing up Jacob's ass. He put the big Black dude on all fours, face down and ass up. Gripping Jacob's hips, Anthony thrust his dick deep into his ass. Jacob simply took it like a champ. Hardly a grunt came out of the big man's mouth as he got fucked in the ass. Anthony was really giving it to him, slamming his dick up that ass like ass fucking was going out of style. I do love watching my Anthony fucking. Whether he's fucking me or someone else. He's so strong and vigorous. The perfect lover. Ellen slips first one then two fingers into my ass while playing with my butt. I am so loving every minute of this. Who knew letting another female lick my ass would feel so good?

After a few minutes of sweet tongue lashing of my ass, Ellen changes her game. She asks me to remain in the same position, face down and ass up. Fetching her strap-on dildo, she told me she was taking me for a ride. I was all for it. Gently, Ellen spread my ass cheeks wide open and pressed the dildo against my hole. She didn't so much thrust as she eased it inside of me. Hot damn. I gritted my teeth as Ellen slid the dildo up my ass. It felt weird, but kind of nice. Nearby, my Anthony was slamming his dick up Jacob's ass like there was no tomorrow. My man looks so damn good while fucking another man. Isn't that the weirdest thing for a woman to say about her husband?

Watching Anthony plowing into Jacob's ass while getting butt-fucked by Ellen's strap-on dildo was a very erotic experience. It sure brought back some memories. I remember the first time Anthony fucked my ass. Back when we were still dating. We were hooking up in the bathroom of a Haitian restaurant on Main street in Brockton. Just two horny lovebirds. I remember it like it was yesterday. Anthony had me on my knees, polishing his knob as they say. I was sucking his big dick like my life depended on it. After I got him nice and hard, he bent me over a frigging toilet seat and pulled down my skirt. I wasn't wearing any panties that night. He just spread my ass cheeks and slipped a finger into my asshole. I was stunned at how bold he was. And to be honest, I kind of liked it. He was fingering my asshole and it felt oddly good. After a few minutes, he added another finger. I loved getting my ass stimulated by his fingers. Imagine my surprise when he replaced his fingers with his long and thick, uncircumcised rod of manly power.

I recalled gasping in shock as Anthony slipped his dick into my asshole. I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt but it felt really, really good after a while. He was gentle with me, at first. In spite of the slight discomfort, I found myself enjoying my first anal experience with my future husband. Yeah, my first time getting ass fucked by my man felt great. His dick stretched my asshole from a tight spot to a wide open space. I just loved having his dick up my butt. It's almost like I became addicted to ass fucking or something. It just feels so damn good. Especially when he sinks it real deep inside of me. Just the way I like it. Yeah, I'm an anal addict. If you don't like it, you can sue my Black ass. 

Oh, shoot. I digress. Sorry about that. Sex has a way of making this Black woman's mind wander to all kinds of odd places and times. Ellen gripped my hips while slamming her strap-on dildo up my butt hole. This sister was really energetic and fucked me with everything she had. I screamed in pain and pleasure as she practically tore my ass up. While fucking me, she actually spanked my ass. Hot damn. The boldness on that woman. I liked it! I fingered my pussy while Ellen fucked my ass. I was wet as a puddle down there. Without warning, Ellen pulled the dildo out of my ass. I gasped, protesting the sudden empty feeling in my bottom. Grinning wickedly, Ellen flipped me on my back. Then she slammed the dildo right back into my ass. I looked at her gleeful eyes as she resumed fucking my ass. Wow. This woman actually looked possessed. While fucking me, she slid two fingers up my pussy and tasted my girly cum. Then she thrust her fingers into my mouth and I tasted myself on her fingers. That bitch rocked my world until I came who knows how many times. 

When all was said and done, the four of us sat naked in the living room, having a few drinks. Jacob sat next to me, and my Anthony sat next to Ellen. Every one in the room was grinning like a fool. Why? Because w e had a lot to smile about. Good sex will do that to you. I looked at my husband and smiled. My Anthony winked at me. Some interesting lives we lead, don't we? A middle-class Black professional couple working in the big city. Having some awesome parties with some of our sexy peers in the suburbs. We have a beautiful house, great jobs, great sex and great lives. Living our version of the African-American dream. 



Why Black Women Need White Men



Sliding my thick White cock into Shana Blake's asshole, I felt on top of the world. My name is Jay Warden-Picard. Third-generation French-Canadian, with some Irish thrown in. Born and raised in the City of Calgary, Province of Alberta. I'm a Redneck through and true. I've often been accused of being a bigot, and sometimes with good reason. I'm not always tolerant of those who are different from myself, whether we're talking about ethnic minorities, Aboriginals or queers. Sorry but that's how I was raised. My exposure to racial diversity and inclusion was limited. However, my dick doesn't discriminate. Just ask Shana here. The tall, big-bottomed Black woman's got my dick buried so far up her asshole, you can't tell where she ends and I begin. And I like it like that.

I picked up Shana Blake at this bar in downtown Ottawa last night. Now, I'm not into Black chicks, let me be clear about that. We don't play like that sit down in my native Calgary, man. We are a really traditional bunch. Seriously. I'm engaged to a six-foot-tall, beautiful blonde-haired and green-eyed French-Canadian woman named Maeve O'Connor Guillaume. She's a student at the University of Ottawa. My lady is into the Telfer MBA program. I'm at Algonquin College, getting my diploma in Police Foundations. Next I will go to Carleton University. Maeve is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I want us to have a family. Lots of French-Canadian and Irish brats and a house on the Albertan Prairie. However, Maeve was out of town that day and this horny Black slut named Shana Blake came onto me at a bar. What's a horny White guy to do when Black pussy offers itself? Trust me, you would have done the same thing. If you don't, then you're stupid, pure and simple.

Shana Blake bought me several drinks, and as we talked she stared challengingly at every Black guy in the bar. Especially those with White girlfriends. I knew at once what she wanted. Some Black guy probably dumped her and she is dying to get back at him. By giving her Black pussy to the White man. Hey, that's more than okay by me. My Maeve is out of town and what she doesn't know can't hurt her. I figured a night of passion with this horny Black slut couldn't hurt. So I danced with her and then took her home. Once we got there, Shana Blake turned into a truly wanton slut, man. I knew Black chicks were horny bitches but this one took the cake, man. As I sat in the living room, she knelt before me as if to pray and went for my dick like her life depended on it.

Shana Blake began sucking on my eight-inch, uncircumcised White cock eagerly. I thrust my cock down her throat, loving what she was doing. Shana sucked my dick and licked my balls. I asked her how it felt to be sucking my big White dick. She told me I smelled and tasted great. I laughed. I thought so myself. Shana sucked me off until I came, flooding her face with my manly spunk. Eagerly she drank my masculine seed, draining me of my manly fluids. I hate to admit this but next to some Chinese women I've fucked, Black chicks suck a mean dick. Well, I don't know firsthand about the Chinese women. Friends of mine told me about them. I'm kind of conservative you know, so I don't do that kind of stuff with minority women. I'm a Calgary man through and true. In every sense of the word. Look up Calgary and find out what we're all about.

Like I said before, fooling around with minority women isn't something I'm into. Nor is it something that I condone. Tonight's romp with Shana Blake was an exception. My boss and good friend Joel Wellington's kinky fiancée Linda Shires recently ran off with this big and tall Black man named Steeves Volmar Cherenfant. He's from America, and apparently she's crazy about big Black guys from the States. Man, if I ever cross paths with that Black American dude I'm going to give him the beating of a lifetime. I knew lots of young White women were into Black guys but I didn't think a sexy, university-educated and accomplished, forty-something White woman like Linda Shires would go for a young Black guy. Isn't that some shit? We're losing our White women to the Black guys and I hate it. That's the main reason why I'm fucking Shana Blake. To get back at Black men for stealing our White women by banging one of their Black women.

After she finished sucking my dick, Shana spread her legs for me. I fingered her pussy and gave it a licking. I wonder what my buddies in Calgary would say if they could see me now. Me, Jay Warden-Picard. Going down on a Black woman. They wouldn't approve, but I'd tell them it's for a good cause. The way I see it, Black men steal our White women so we should steal their Black women every chance we get. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about marrying Black women or even dating them Black ladies. I'm talking about fucking them and make them yield to the awesome power of White cock. Maybe that will give Black men pause the next time they try to pick up a White chick. You feel me? Cool.

I made Shana suck my cock again. Once I was hard, I put on a condom and made her assume the position. Face down and big Black ass up, you ghetto bitch. Time for your Black pussy to get some White dick. I held Shana by the hips and thrust my cock into her cunt. I began pounding her surprisingly tight pussy with powerful thrusts of my cock. Honestly, I'm surprised this Black chick has a tight pussy. I would have thought a Black woman like her would be real loose down there because she'd probably been with tons of guys. Oh, well. I fucked the hell out of Shana's tight Black cunt, then had a go with her ass. Shana spread her ass cheeks wide open, offering herself to me. I applied Vaseline all over her asshole, then pressed my dick against it. And just like that, this Calgary redneck sank his White cock inside a Black woman's asshole for the first time. Hard and fast I pounded my cock into Shana's asshole. I made her squeal as I drilled my big White cock into her tight Black asshole. Yeah!

Much later, I fell asleep. When I came to, Shana was still there. She told me last night was heavenly, and asked me if she could see me again. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I smiled and waved my morning wood at her. Eagerly Shana sucked me off. I fucked her, then told her what the deal was. You should have seen the look of surprise on her face when I told her that I didn't want her anywhere near my apartment. I told her to grab her clothes and step off like the cheap Black whore that she was. With tears in her eyes Shana asked me why I was behaving this way. I pointed to the picture of my Maeve and I on the nightstand. I told her that I'm a proud Calgary man happily engaged to a proud Calgary woman. A tall, blonde-haired and pale-eyed White goddess who was the world's standard of beauty. A Black slut like Shana couldn't even compete with my gorgeous European lady. Sure, I let Shana suck my dick and ride me a few times but it was just a booty call. With a squeal of anguish Shana grabbed her clothes and left my apartment, slamming the door. I laughed at that. I stopped smiling when I got a text message from Maeve, saying that she was in a cab coming home from the airport. Oh, shoot. I've got to get the apartment in order real fast otherwise my lady's going to sense something is amiss. Gotta go, folks. 



Why Blacks Could Rule the World



The name is Bartleby Florestal and I'm a big and tall black man living in the city of Brockton, Massachusetts. I'm originally from the Republic of Haiti, down in the Caribbean. A long time ago, I was a police officer. I came to America in my early thirties and decided to go back to school. Thus, I enrolled at Brockton Community College, majoring in the field of Criminal Justice. I'm very close to finally getting my associate's degree. In the meantime, I'm getting trained as a corrections officer at the Corrections Officer Training Academy down in the town of Boston. Life is good.

When I lived in Haiti, I married my high school sweetheart, a tall and beautiful black woman named Janet. We raised a son together, Bernard Florestal. Shortly before I came to America, Janet was killed by some people during a riot at the nation's capital, Port-Au-Prince. I can't tell you how it felt, losing the love of my life. For months I looked for her killer, thoughts of vengeance on my mind. Unfortunately, I could not find him or her. I was on a destructive path, mad with grief. I alienated friends and family, and even neglected my son.

In the end, it took my mother Augustine's words of wisdom to put me back on the right path. My wife Janet was dead. Nothing I could do to her killers would bring her back. However, she would be in deep sorrow if she could see the man I had become. A man who lost himself in the pursuit of vengeance and neglected his family and responsibilities. Such a man was not the stalwart individual Janet loved while she lived. My mother was right. I loved Janet too much to disgrace her memory. I had my son Bernard to take care of. And so I took care of him to the best of my ability.

Three years ago, I moved from Port-Au-Prince, Haiti, to Brockton, Massachusetts, in the United States of America. I was not alone. My mother Augustine Florestal, my son Bernard and my brother Stefan also came with me. We rented a fairly large apartment in Brockton's North Side and began our new lives. My brother Stefan got himself a job as a clerk at a grocery store. I started working security and attending the local community college. My son went to school. As for my mother, she took care of us. As she has always done. Isn't she great? 

For ages, I busied myself with school and work. There was rent to pay and I was also saving money for Bernard's college education. Back in the day, I attended the University of Notre Dame in Haiti. It was important to me that my son attended a good college and made something of himself. That's why I worked so hard. No matter how much I loved my family, I still had some needs they couldn't satisfy. Some manly needs, if you people reading this drivel catch my drift. Yeah, I mean it that way.

Brockton Community College was full of women. Half of the campus was women, in fact. We're talking about thousands upon thousands of females there. They were black, white, Asian, Latin, Middle-Eastern and everything in between. All races and body types. Tall, short, stocky, fat, thin, muscular, flabby, thick and everything in between. You'd think in a place filled with so many women, I wouldn't have a hard time meeting someone interesting. Yeah, that's what I thought. I thought there were a lot of women at Brockton Community College. I was wrong. The campus was filled with harpies, hussies and bitches. I'm not exaggerating, and I'm not bitter. I'm simply telling the truth.

Back in Haiti, I knew plenty of educated, intelligent and sophisticated black men and black women. These were the people who headed my country's businesses, schools, corporations, churches, etc. I thought the black men and black women of America would be the same way. I was terribly, horribly and terrifyingly wrong. America's black men and black women were for the most part lazy, uneducated, ill-mannered and bitter. I don't know what's wrong with them. Seriously. When I'm on the bus, I see young black women screaming at each other, calling one another by colorful names such as bitch, whore and chicken-head. I don't know too many young black men who are in college but I know plenty who have been to prison. Lots of young black women barely out of high school have multiple offspring by multiple fathers. These females can barely support themselves, yet that doesn't stop them from getting pregnant every time the wind blows. What could be in their minds? Have they heard of condoms? Or simply saying no? It's eerie! 

I met many white men and white women who walk around with an air of superiority. They act like they're untouchable, as if the planet belongs to them. And black men and black women living in America are envious of them and deeply resentful at the same time. It's funny. Where I come from, the president is a black man. My doctor is a black woman. My son's pediatrician is a black man. The nicest restaurant in my town is owned by a black person. As is the biggest corporation on the island. Black men and black women can and do accomplish great things where I come from. We don't envy white people. We don't hate them. We know we're just as good. Black men and black women are genetically the same species as white men and white women. We have the same level of intelligence. We're just as good. That's what logic tells me. I wish it were so in America. 

Too often I see black men and black women tearing each other to pieces. A prominent and accomplished black man who became a Supreme Court Judge was nearly brought down by an accusation made by a black woman. A black mayor lost his seat after having an affair with a black female member of his cabinet. See what I mean? In America, black women hate black men with a fiery passion. The black woman is always trying to tear down the black man. She doesn't want him to accomplish anything. She wants him down in the gutter. Way down in the hole. Right beside her. Why must it be that way? Black politicians have more to fear from their fellow blacks than from whites. Why? Black entertainers are often victimized by black fanatics. Why? Nothing in the world hates a black man like a black woman. Why?

I wish things were better. I wish black mothers would stop mistreating black fathers and preventing them from spending time with their sons and daughters. Parental Alienation runs rampant in the black community. Black females who demand financial support ( to which they are legally entitled) from black males whose offspring they are raising should also be made to allow these same black men to spend quality time with their sons and daughters. A father is more than a check in the mail. A father is irreplaceable. He teaches a son or daughter something no mother can teach them. A mother is valuable, but she can't be everything to her son or daughter. Parenthood is a two-person job. Let no one, especially some man-hating white feminist academic, tell you otherwise.

What can a father teach a son or daughter that a mother can't? A father can teach his son how to be a strong, confident, smart and capable man. A father can teach his daughter how to be a respectable lady who will respect a man and demand that he respect her in return, or else. A mother provides love, structure, discipline, comfort and nurturing to a son or daughter. But she can't do everything. The father must do his part. For him to do his part, he must be allowed to spend time with his son or daughter. He must be allowed to teach them what he knows. He must be allowed to develop a strong, loving and respectful relationship with them. He can't be expected to do that if the mother vengefully prevents him from seeing his son or daughter yet drags him to court whenever she wants more money from him. Fatherhood is more than a check in the mail and an occasional visit. Let no one tell you otherwise.

Yes, this is what I noticed about the state of the affairs between black men and black women living in America. I wish things could be better. I wish black men and black women would stop seeing each other as enemies. Unfortunately, that's what they're genetically designed to do. Well, those blacks born and raised in America that is. We Haitians aren't perfect. We're extremely arrogant. We're remarkably vain. We can be vicious. We are poor, downtrodden and unfortunate but we are also brave, strong and resilient. We are a dangerous bunch. But we love our families. Black men and black women born and raised in America should try to be more like us. Maybe then they might become a people they themselves can be proud. 



Why Bother with Panties?



She's permanently turned on since she stopped wearing them

Marcia's penchant for going without knickers started the third or fourth time she and Kevin fucked. That was nearly ten years ago, she was thinking at his daughter Sara's recent twenty-first birthday party. There, somewhat to their disappointments, they couldn't get together. Instead, she had fucked Gareth, a city trader, who she had been having sex with for broadly the same time. Kevin was now fifty- three, Marcia forty-three and Gareth thirty- two. Marcia enjoyed fucking both the older and younger man and was particularly intrigued by the fact that Gareth was Kevin's son by his first wife. 

Kevin is married to Amanda, one of Marcia's best friends. Gareth is one of those phenomenally successful city traders, unfathomably earning several hundred thousand pounds a year. He has no discernable skill, little knowledge and didn't' do well enough at school to get a place at uni. Odd world he and people who knew him often thought. 

Marcia is the daughter of near aristocracy, which she terms 'fucking old landed gentry.' Old, boring and stuffy her family may be, but they were also stinking rich and that she liked. She was married to the gorgeous Stephen Masters, one of the most eminent consultant psychologists in Europe. His consultancy work, book writing and lecturing activities added another couple of million a year to the two or three she got in dividends from the family companies and other investments. 

Stephen is in his early fifties and has longish, blonde hair, turning grey. He's tall, slim and fit is excellent in bed and apart from with hookers and escort girls, who don't count, he has always been faithful to Marcia. That cannot be said for Marcia. She has been unfaithful since they met, but then Marcia's ideas of faithfulness, differ to most 'normal' and for normal read poor, people. She considers herself to be emotionally, but not physically faithful. In the rarefied atmosphere and thinking of the mega rich, that is all that matters, loosely interpreted it means 'I'm rich so I can do what I fucking well like and if you don't like it, up your's; nice people generally, the stinking rich.

*

"You know I have wanted to fuck you since the moment we met," Kevin said at his and Amanda's housewarming party.

Marcia smiled. "Yes of course, I have," she replied walking down the path towards the pool, feeling his arm go round her waist and his hand rest on her bum.

They stopped and kissed. 

They were far enough away from the house for it to be difficult if not impossible for anyone to see them. Not so far, though, that they couldn't hear the music, the buzz of conversation and the occasional laughter or raised voice.

He cupped one of her small, almost non-existent breasts, which surprisingly really aroused him. 

The surprise, on the face of it, coming from the fact that his wife, one of Marcia's best friends, had big tits. Now that is, but not when Kevin first seduced her when she was just twenty working in an ad agency, which represented his company. Amanda had broken the cardinal ad industry rule, 'never fuck the client' or, more to the point with young, female copywriters, 'never let the client fuck you.' She not only let the client fuck her, and over a desk in the agency after a late meeting, but she also married him. 

After Sara was born, her neat little b cup boobies and thirty five inch hips both swelled and for the past few years she had sported a pair of devastating double D cupped tits and an ample thirty seven inches of hips and arse. She was not what would be called big, but was certainly voluptuous.

Kevin found that all a bit distasteful. He had never been faithful to Amanda, but as her 'tits and ass' grew he, almost in perfect correlation to her expansion, had a succession of affairs, long, short, mid-term and one-nighters. His 'floosies,' as Amanda called them when she occasionally found out or had suspicions, had two main things in common, apart from legs that easily opened and knickers that were surprisingly easy to get into: they were all young, under twenty five, and had stick insect-like figures with 'pimples for tits.'

They strolled round the corner of the pool changing room, out of sight of the party. He pushed her back against the wall and they kissed longer and deeper.

"Fuck I haven't got the key," he said patting his pockets.

"What's wrong with alfresco?" She asked grabbing his erection through his thin linen trousers.

"Not a thing, you horny bitch," he replied, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth.

He pulled one of the straps of the ankle-length dress down her arm and pushed and stroked, squeezed and pinched her tits, before leaning forward and sucking the long, dark nipples into his mouth. She undid his shirt then his zip. She bit his nipple, quite hard.

"Hey steady, that hurt." Marcia laughed.

"Just be careful I don't leave scratch marks right down your back, you bastard, cheating on my best friend."

They both laughed.

He pulled her long skirt up; she wasn't wearing tights, just panties. He slid his hand between her thighs and lifted his thumb so that it pressed right into the gusset of the panties covering her pussy lips.

"Mmmm," she murmured. Kevin wasn't sure whether that was due to what he was doing or, because she had taken hold of his bare, hard cock. Maybe a bit of both he thought.

He pressed his erection against her and wiggled his hand into the elastic of the waistband of her panties. He started to pull them down. As her pubes and pussy were exposed to the air, Marcia felt an even more urgent surge of arousal than what she was getting from holding his throbbing cock. She grabbed his hand when her knickers were half-way down her thighs.

"That's far enough," she said sharply, used to always being in control in her relationships. 

"What don't like the open air?" He replied pushing her knickers down past her knees.

"Just shut up and fuck me smartarse," Marcia said helping Kevin push his trousers and pants down a little.

Kevin smiled, but did nothing further other than push his finger right against her clit, then ease two up inside her.

"Nice?" He asked hearing her grunt and feeling her body jerk.

"Yes," she replied, grabbing his cock again.

She guided it towards her eager pussy. They kissed as it brushed against her lips and then she grunted and he groaned as he thrust his hips forward surging his cock deep inside her. Marcia lifted one leg up and wrapped the calf and ankle round the back of Kevin's legs. They were now kissing furiously as their arousal and passion grew. He was pounding into her, she was squirming herself back against him. His hands were all over her breasts, the top of her dress now being completely open: hers were running up and down his back, slightly scratching it, worrying Kevin that she might carry out her earlier threat. 

"Oh fuck yes," she grunted. "Harder, fuck me harder," she moaned grabbing his arse and digging her fingernails into the pliant flesh.

"You horny cow," he replied, surging himself as far into her as he could go and then holding himself rigid in there as she writhed against his hardness, in effect she was fucking herself.

"I'm near," he grunted.

"Good," she responded.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

Several more deep, slow thrusts from him, a few more writhing, squirming movements from her, and they were both cumming. Each holding onto the cheeks of the other's bum and squeezing those delicious mounds they revelled in their mutual climax.

"Phew," Marcia muttered falling against Kevin.

"Nice?" He asked.

"Mmm, fucking lovely," she replied.

"Come on we had better get back."

"Oh fuck look at my knickers?" Marcia said. They both looked down and saw that they had slipped off from her foot and she or he had trod on them, they were covered in dirt.

"Easy," Kevin said, picking them up and shoving them in his pocket.

*

They had sex again a couple of weeks later. This time it was at Stephen and Marcia's house in Hampstead. 

They got to know each other better, both socially and sexually. Kevin knew they were well off, but hadn't appreciated quite the level of Marcia's family wealth, which she explained in a matter-of-fact manner, not sounding at all boastful. From the house warming party, he knew that sexually she was a goer and up for some of the more outrageous aspects of sex, including being fucked up against a wall just outside a party at which she was guest and he the host. The warm afternoon in Hampstead confirmed that and they had four hours of uninhibited sex that promised well for the future.

The two couples had met at a dinner party given by, Jonas Bright a supplier to Kevin's business. It was quite a grand affair with ten or so couples at his huge apartment overlooking Regents Park. They had hit it off well and discovered that they were going to be in Hong Kong at the same time a few weeks later. They had met up for dinner a couple of times out there and had then seen each other again in Jonas' box at Royal Ascot. Things just progressed from there and a year later, when Kevin and Amanda moved to a large house in Essex, just outside London to the east, they had naturally been invited and, almost as naturally, Kevin and Marcia had fucked.

Stephen was suspicious of Marcia and Kevin, but then, quite rightly he was suspicious of her with most men. He knew she played around, but had no idea of the scope, variety and nature of her 'infidelities.' He put up with it firstly, because as a psychologist he studied and understood human behaviours. 'That's just how she is,' he rationalised and secondly he loved her. Simple, straightforward and unarguable reasons.

Marcia was naked. She was laying on a huge bed in a Mayfair hotel, on her front, her slender, shapely legs wide open. Her, long, straightened brown hair with highlights was tumbling over her bare back onto the bed. Kevin had just made her cum by laying between her legs and sucking, licking and kissing her arse. 

At their session in her house in Hampstead, Kevin had discovered that she was very sensitive there and that she liked anal foreplay; he hadn't yet, but fully intended to soon, found out, though, whether she liked being fucked up her arse. Along with most parts of a woman's body, he was an arse man. He adores rimming women's' bums and having them do the same, and more if they would, to his.

Marcia knew that it wouldn't be long, maybe even today, before Kevin would want to have her arse. She didn't mind that, although she always felt it wasn't all that it was often cracked up to be, for the woman that is. The incongruity of anal sex was that she found the foreplay hugely sensual and massively arousing. She loved being made to cum through the use of fingers, tongues and lips on her bum hole, just as Kevin was doing now.

"You really are a dirty bitch, aren't you?" He grunted between pushing the tip of his tongue right against that delightfully puckered entrance and sucking at Marcia's arse.

"You're the one with their mouth up an arse, so what's that make you?" She replied.

He gave her a thwack on her arse, storing the fact that her response sounded like a purr of pleasure.

He renewed his efforts, sucking and licking and combining the use of his fingers with that of his mouth. 

Marcia was writhing with pleasure. She slid a hand down her body and found her clit. 'What could be better' she thought to herself, a tongue on your arse and a finger up it, as you play with your own clit?' Not much, she concluded, because she was starting to cum. 

She didn't often allow a man, particularly a relatively new one in her life, such control. Normally, she ran the show, but with Kevin she was realising she had met her sexual equal. 'Well for a man that is,' she smiled to herself as those wonderful feelings roared through her body. Even as her body shuddered and she writhed and made deep, animal-like sounds from her throat, he kept fucking her arse with his finger and licking and sucking everywhere down there. 

She finished, well the noisy bit, that is, the tingling and little tremors kept on for some time. Half of her wished that he would hold her, cuddle her and whisper tender messages in her ear. But she knew he wouldn't for that was not what their affair was all about and generally it was not what she wanted and people like Marcia always got what they wanted.

She lay still for a while, regaining her composure. She felt him moving around on the bed. He took both of her wrists in his hands and pulled them, gently above her head. Then, she felt something being wrapped round them. It didn't register at first what he was doing, but then suddenly, as she felt whatever it was that was wrapped round her wrists being pulled tight, she caught on. 'He's tying me up the bastard,' she realised, opening her eyes and trying to turn onto her back. She couldn't as he stopped with his hands.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing?" Marcia asking answering the question herself really as she watched her wrists being tied to the headboard.

"Simple Marcia, tying you up."

"Why, I don't like that."

"You will," he replied.

It didn't feel as if her wrists had been tied too tightly and she struggled looking at where they were tied to the bed. 'The bastard has only used my fucking knickers to tie me up,' she recognised, pulling and twisting her body and wrists.

"You bastard," she growled, feeling annoyed at the smug look on his face.

"Now, now," Kevin replied enjoying and starting to get aroused at seeing her slim body writhing and squirming on the bed. "Oh fuck," he said seeing one of her hands come free. He grabbed it and tried tying her panties around it again, but couldn't manage it. 

"See you cocky sod, you can't do what I don't want you to do," Marcia said harshly as she struggled with him over her panties. "Now look what you have done, you fucking lunatic," she said after she had removed them from her wrists and the headboard of the bed. She held the pale blue, lacy panties up for him to see. They were not a thong as she usually wore, but had a full bottom and a small front cut acutely up from the gusset. They were made from silk and lace and had tiny strips joining the front and back. One of those and the gusset had been torn making them completely unwearable.

"They're fucking AP as well, sixty bloody quid a pair," she ranted.

"Well you'll just have to go commando won't you, you're probably used to it."

Later, sitting on the Northern Line of the tube Marcia felt odd. Although it was quite chilly, she wasn't wearing tights for she still had a good tan on her shapely legs from the two weeks she had recently spent in Antigua. 

She was wearing a leather, mini skirt, which was highly fashionable at the time. With her legs crossed the skirt obviously rode up her legs, almost to her crotch. Normally that and the stares from the male travellers would not have bothered her at all. Today, though, they both did bother her. Well more than bother for she felt a strange sort of arousal. 'If only they knew I wasn't wearing panties,' she smiled to herself, recrossing her legs, but making sure not to do a complete Sharon Stone! 

Marcia felt a tingle throughout her body all the way home. As she walked up the escalator at Hampstead station, she imagined that people behind her would be able to look up her skirt and see that she was naked under it. Of course they didn't and couldn't do that. Just as no one on the train who stared at her legs or walked behind her would know of her clothing omission. 

That was not the point, though, well not in her mind. The point was how not wearing knickers made her feel. And not to put too fine a point on that, it made her feel fucking horny.

*

"It's every young bloke's wet dream material' isn't it?" Gareth was telling his mates the Sunday after Amanda and Kevin's housewarming party. "She's got no tits to speak of, but what an arse?" He went on. "At the party, I had my arms round her during this smoochy number and she was pressed bloody tightly against me. You can guess what happened?"

The three other traders he was talking to in the flat in Docklands that he shared with one of them made the inevitable raucous remarks. They had all been on the Stolli and each of them had had several lines, so they were relaxed, uninhibited and very open with each other. 

Gareth was in his early twenties and was beginning to make it as trader in the city. Especially with the coke, nothing seemed to be impossible, 

"Yeah, right I got a hard on. I felt embarrassed."

"Yeah like fuck you did, I bet," one of them remarked.

"What doubting he got hard on, or that he was embarrassed?" another one asked, laughing.

"I thought she would at least, move away a little."

"So what did she do?"

"Her mouth was about level with my ear and I heard her go mmmmm, as she pressed herself harder against me."

"You lucky fucker."

"I was still a bit out of my stride for remember, she's early-forties, married and as rich as God. Very upscale and really out of my league, I thought."

"Oh is this the humility side of Gal coming out? Out of his league, my arse."

"I mumbled sorry and she whispered, don't be. I said, stupidly you don't mind? She didn't say anything, but looking me right in the eyes, she simply pressed her mound right against my cock.

"And then?"

"Well I'd got me confidence then 'adn't I? It was quite dark and we were in a bit of a corner so I let my hands run down her back. She was wearing a long, sheath dress, tight as a second skin. She looked fucking fabulous. I felt her arse. At first it didn't register, but then suddenly I thought there was nothing under the dress. When it registered that she was probably stark bollock naked under it, my hard on nearly hit her chin."

"So what did you do?"

I said. "Seems as though you forgot something Marcia," as I ran my hand from her shoulders, all the way down her spine to the little wiggly bit at the end."

"What makes you think I forgot?" She replied, so I said; left them off on purpose then, have you?"

"You cheeky bastard," one of his mates remarked.

"That's a coincidence," Gareth said taking a swig of vodka with a touch of water.

"Why?"

"That's exactly what Marcia said."

*

After that arousing trip home on the Northern Line after Kevin had ruined her panties, Marcia thought she would ditch him. 'He's fucking crazy' she told herself as she was getting ready to play golf with Amanda and her next-door neighbour Toni at Marcia's golf club in Highgate.

"Hi Marcia," Amanda said down the phone. "I'm afraid Toni can't make it, still want to play?"

Amanda had this innocence about her. She was still completely besotted with Kevin and had this tendency to use phrases with unintentional double meanings. Marcia smiled at that.

"Just the two of us, of course I do," she replied.

Marcia had fucked the partners of several other friends, so she didn't feel embarrassed with, or sorry for, Amanda. To her, sex was pretty much a commodity and if Kevin wanted her and she wanted him, what was the harm? Amanda, of course, had no idea, that her 'friend' and her husband had shagged each other at the housewarming or that they had started an affair.

It was unseasonably warm for late October. Bright and sunny and in the low sixties, Marcia decided to wear a short, sleeveless golf shirt, which just tucked into her cropped trousers. Both were quite tight. 

She had no idea what prompted her not to wear underwear, but when she saw the reflection of her bum in the mirror, she felt excited. The thin cotton material was drawn tightly and beautifully smoothly over the pert, symmetrical, taught cheeks of her bum. It fitted snugly round her rather prominent pubic mound and rubbed excitedly against her lips and the hood covering her clit. She put her finger right there. Bang, she felt an internal explosion of want. 'Mmmmm,' she thought 'I can almost cum on demand.'