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Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 01

By: younghungblack



Marie is a scrumptious, mature woman with whom I correspond. She is a delight and has even begun publishing deliciously wicked interracial stories of her own under the name MarieProvost. If you enjoy the older white woman younger black man genre you'll love her work.

This story takes a while to unfold. If you're searching for a quick beat off tale, you may want to look elsewhere.


Marie was fifty-two and wanted something that was logically out of her price range. A new car. A nice one, very nice. She didn't live in poverty or anything. She was a professional as was her husband. They'd raised two children, great kids, college educated at Mom and Dad's expense, successful in their own right now.

It was, she reasoned, her turn. She wasn't, and never had been, someone to recline on a lounge chair while others dropped grapes into her mouth. Marie was a doer, a worker, an achiever. When she wanted something she went out and earned it for herself, and that was how she found herself working on a summer project for the school district alongside a black nineteen-year-old college kid named Blaine.

She'd taught summer school years ago when her children were still at home and the family needed the income, but for the past dozen years she was used to summers off. July and August recharged her batteries and she was no longer interested in sharing those months with the students that occupied her time five-sixths of the year.

This year, the district had embarked on an effort to catalogue and enumerate all of the system's physical property from air conditioners and maintenance tools to textbooks and sports equipment. Records were kept, of course, but those got out of date quickly. 

Property that no longer existed was still on the books, database descriptions didn't match physical inventory, items were mis-categorized, double counted, located elsewhere, weren't usable, were unwanted, or had a myriad of other identification problems that lead district leaders to make uninformed decisions.

The state issued a grant and Marie was one of the teachers kept on for the summer to complete the work. Dozens of college students were also engaged and each teacher was paired with one or more students to form teams. Marie was originally assigned three helpers, two of which never reported. The third was Blaine.

"You're Ms. Provost," Blaine said at the end of a two day orientation where roles and duties were explained and assignments handed out.

"Were you a student?" Marie asked, wracking her brain to come up with a name a decade or more dormant.

"Not in your class. In the school, though. I'm..."

"Don't tell me," Marie said quickly, assuming the role she'd played for thirty years. "...You're Blaine!"

The young black man beamed that Ms. Provost had remembered him. The truth was that he'd been very fond of the teacher everyone called Mrs. Brady behind her back because of a strong resemblance to Florence Henderson. She was so much smaller than Blaine remembered her. The discrepancy, of course, was due to an increase in him rather than a diminution of Marie.

He's that boy, Marie told herself, remembering something of a scandal a few years ago.

Early in high school, Blaine had impregnated a senior girl, beautiful blonde, captain of the cheerleaders, steady girlfriend of the football team's star wide receiver, homecoming queen, president of the student government, all-state chorus, class valedictorian, daughter of the town doctor, volunteer at the local hospital, early acceptee at Cornell. Everybody's Miss Everything when black freshmen running backs weren't knocking her up.

The scandal was kept tightly under seal. The only reason Marie had heard about it was because she was a best friend of the senior class guidance counselor. There was an abortion, counseling for both students, and a brief period of hostilities between the families before a truce was declared.

Not even the girl's boyfriend found out and not even Marie learned why the girl risked so much for someone so inappropriate. She assigned some nebulous, inexplicable cause like "incendiary circumstances" that burned so hot neither could avoid being consumed.

Marie and Blaine worked together every day except Sundays that summer, sometimes with other groups, sometimes more or less alone. At first, they had awkward conversations mostly because they were of different sexes, different races, and different generations. 

But there was something else, a spark that neither knew how to ignite nor, on Marie's part, even wanted to. It wasn't that the fifty-something teacher didn't feel a strange attraction, something hot yet distant; it was simply that she'd moved beyond such times in her life.

Over the course of that first week, the maturing black man's and mature white wife's conversations began to thaw, became less formal, less stilted. By Friday, Marie had even convinced Blaine to stop referring to her as Ms. Provost.

"Any plans for the weekend Marie?" Blaine asked with perfect politeness.

"Not really, what about you?"

"Some of the guys at summer classes are having a party. I'll probably drive down there."

"See you Monday, Blaine."

"See you then."

The following week saw the teacher and the student continue to get more proficient at their new tasks and more comfortable in each other's company. They looked for common interests but found it difficult. Blaine was all about texting and Twitter and Facebook and iPhone games. He seemed to do everything on his phone. 

Marie didn't know how to change her ringtone. Blaine showed her and they laughed about how she needed a teacher now. They kept silent as their hands, arms, and even their knees bumped in subtle, unintended caresses as they huddled close to the small device. Blaine took a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" Marie asked, "afraid you can't do it?"

"I can do it."

"Then why the big sigh?"

"It wasn't a sigh," Blaine said defensively.

"Then what was it?"

Blaine was caught off guard. The flow of the conversation left him with no place to go. He became silent, frozen.

"What was that big breath, big boy?" Marie asked again, continuing to needle her strapping young protégé.

"It's embarrassing."

"What?" asked Marie again, gentler, with genuine concern.

"You smell nice."

Now it was Marie's turn to be embarrassed. She felt her face flush involuntarily. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had said anything so sweet to her.

"You're blushing," Blaine said, sensing their relationship had shifted subtly.

The more Marie blushed the more embarrassed she became. The more embarrassed she was, the hotter her face burned.

"It's time for our break," she announced and walked away toward the ladies room.

Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 02



After more than a week of working together, Blaine and Marie enjoyed a comfortable camaraderie despite their myriad differences. He was a (somewhat) wet-behind-the-ears black college kid and she a fifty-two year old white wife and teacher. 

By the middle of the second week, Blaine sensed something had changed between them but he wasn't exactly sure what it meant. He became more confident around Marie and the thrusts and parries of his conversation often showed it, especially when the unusual pair ate lunch together.

Marie, too, noticed the change in Blaine's demeanor and it unnerved her. Despite the significant edge in seniority she maintained, he was physically more able and he enjoyed showing her his prowess. He deliberately picked up heavy objects flashing his shiny onyx coated sinew and muscle.

"Blaine, that's too heavy," she'd protest even as her eyes feasted on his flesh. It wasn't that she wanted him physically; she knew that was out of the question. He did, however, rekindle memories, or a certain memory anyway, and Marie took the heat of that memory home with her.

"I have to get into shape for football," Blaine would tell her, letting her know of his youth and athletic gifts.

Their relationship took another, more dramatic shift one morning when the assistant superintendent in charge of the project caught up with the pair in an old storage closet housing mostly books. His remark was off handed, natural, but it brought out recollections as dusty as the textbooks.

"See you, Blaine. See you, Mrs. Brady," he'd said as he hurried off.

Blaine let the comment fester for more than an hour until the two sat down in an empty classroom next to the closet to eat their lunch. He'd seen Marie stick her tongue out at their boss for his comment like her reaction was borne of the same familiarity as his aside.

"Do they still call you that?" Blaine asked.

Of course Marie was completely confused. She hadn't been playing that "Mrs. Brady" reference over and over in her mind for the last 75 minutes like Blaine had.

"Call me what, dear?" Marie asked. She'd taken to referring to Blaine as "dear" like she was talking to one of her students.

"Mrs. Brady."

Marie Provost looked a lot like Florence Henderson. When Blaine was still a student in the elementary school where Marie taught, one of his friends mentioned that fact to him. He hadn't a clue who Carol Brady or The Brady Bunch were but he went home that afternoon and found the show in re-runs on TV. He knew he liked Marie even then.

"Oh that," Marie laughed. "Didn't they call me that back when you were in school?"

"Yes," Blaine admitted.

"Did you?" Marie asked.

"Of course," Blaine smiled, relieved that Ms. Provost wasn't going to reprimand him. "You do look a lot like her. You...you're very pretty like she was."

"Why Blaine, what a nice thing to say!"

"It's true. I used to..." Blaine began then fumbled for words that didn't sound like the thought that had jumped immediately into his mind which was jerk off when he was old enough while watching Marie's doppelganger on TV. "...think of you when I watched the show," he concluded lamely.

Marie immediately sensed the danger in what the boy didn't say and tried to deflect her uneasiness by changing the subject.

"Oh I doubt that Blaine. With all the girlfriends you had?"

"Girlfriends? Back then? I didn't even date until I started college." It was true. After the pregnancy he promised his parents he'd never do anything to risk that again. And he'd kept his promise, focusing on his studies, leaving females to fantasy.

"But what about that girl you knocked..." Marie froze. She wasn't supposed to know about that. Nobody was. But the words were out there now and even an act of Congress couldn't recall them.

Blaine said four words before becoming completely silent. "You know about that?" He went and sat on some boxes facing the wall. His proud posture shrank. Marie felt so bad but didn't know what to do. Her mouth was open but no words fell out because none formed in her brain.

In her regret, Marie did something even stupider than what had gotten her into trouble to start with. She confessed something embarrassing of her own to try to make Blaine feel better.

"I'm so sorry, Blaine," she began, sitting next to him and putting her hand on his shoulder. "I had no right to bring that up but you're not the only one who's done something you wish you hadn't."

Marie started to tell him of wearing a pair of mismatched shoes, chuckling because "both of them for the same foot" but Blaine wasn't having any part of that.

"That's not the same at all, Marie," he protested, trying sincerely not to pout. Pouting was something his mother absolutely forbade.

Misfiring on her first apology attempt only served to make matters worse. Blaine felt poorer and so did she. So she started over letting her sympathy for the young man override her good sense.

Marie told Blaine something about sex, about the time when she used a lack of judgment during a dark period in her marriage. She'd gone out drinking and dancing with girl friends on several occasions. She'd pushed her body against those of men she didn't know.

On one occasion she let a younger man, a black man take her outside. She made out with him and let him feel her up in the back of his car. He even had his cock out and in her hand before she came to her senses and made her escape.

Marie told this to Blaine to make him feel better, to give him something "on her" to even things out for her knowing about the pregnancy.

"Wow," said the young black who became immediately suspicious. "Really?"

"I swear," Marie said holding up her hand like she was taking an oath and using her finger to cross her heart.

"What was the name of the bar?" Blaine asked, seeking to confirm veracity in details, then the guy's name when Marie answered the first question.

"I didn't even know," Marie confessed, looking down in disappointment.

"Mrs. Brady goes out to a car with a black guy and doesn't know his name?" Blaine teased. Obviously her confession made him feel better and that made Marie feel better.

"I swear," Marie said for the second time in less than thirty seconds.

"Was it Andre?" Blaine asked.

Marie was startled. Her heart was in her throat. Did Blaine know? What did Blaine know? How could he know? She answered with the truth.

"I didn't know at the time. I found out later. How did you know?"

"It was a guess. Dre is a legend around here. All my friends have heard tales about him picking up white women. They can't resist him. You sure you got away. I heard once he got hold of you, you stayed got."

"I must be the only one that didn't. I guess he didn't think it beneficial, legend-wise, to talk about me."

Blaine gave Marie a hug and thanked her for making him feel better. But a Rubicon had been crossed. The topic of sex had been broached and all the worms were last seen wriggling out of their cans. Their conversations would never be as innocent again. 



Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 03



One day at the height of the summer, Blaine and Marie were in a room under the football stadium. He had been lifting some heavy boxes and was sweating heavily when he asked her if it was all right if he took his shirt off. She started to say no but relented knowing how hot it was, but worried that even if Blaine managed to cool down, she might over heat.

With his shirt laying atop a pile of old cartons, Blaine's dark chocolate skin shone like polished stone. The sight of his muscled back, chest, and abdomen were almost enough to give Marie a stroke. She couldn't think straight. His jeans rode low on his hips. She swore she could see tufts of pubic hair leering at her above his belt buckle.

At one point, the black youth had his arms full and almost tripped over a stray wooden hurdle used, at one time, by the track team.

"Could you move that Marie?" he asked, standing strong and beautiful.

She pulled but couldn't get it out of the way. She had to stoop down to get it unwedged. Her face was so close to the boy's groin she could smell his musky fragrance. She became lightheaded and lost her balance.

The day had begun warm and humid and was projected to get hot and very humid. For the first time that summer, Marie decided to abandon the top and Bermuda shorts she always wore for a light dress. She'd expected a modest workload with a minimum of climbing and bending.

Marie knew the skirt was too short, but Blaine had been teasing her about the matronly clothes she wore and had, on several occasions managed to get her goat. She knew they would be alone all day so who would know except her...and him. 

They'd been flirting more openly lately. Blaine seemed to be able to get her talking about the time in Andre's car almost at will. It troubled her to discuss it with someone so young, and black himself. There was obvious danger but their roles seemed immutable: she, moth; he, flame.

"So tell me, Marie, now that it's all behind you, are you disappointed you didn't let Dre do you?"

"No, I'm glad I didn't give in to intercourse...but..."

"But what?"

"Oh god, you're going to make me say it, aren't you?" Blaine remained silent, smiling, forcing her to continue. "Sometimes I wish -- I'm going to hell for sure now -- I'd let him make me give him oral."

Why had she confessed such an embarrassing thing she wondered. Perhaps because she'd been thinking about it so much lately. Blaine brought it up almost every other day. Perhaps because she was masturbating more than usual these days and those sessions were fueled by old fantasies of fellating Andre in his car and new ones of fellating Blaine in hers.

Whatever the reasons for her confession, Marie knew exactly what she was doing that morning as she donned the too skimpy dress. What harm would showing a little skin do? OK, potentially a lot of harm but she'd been thinking those strange things, those naughty things. Still, she reasoned, the hem of the dress covered almost as much of her legs as the shorts did.

At least that's how the dress fell when she was upright. But that's not where she was at the moment. She'd seen herself in slow motion topple over and roll onto her back. Her legs were spread and her dress at her waist. Blaine had a clear view of her translucent panties.

Marie could tell by the look on the boy's face that he'd seen her all right even as he put down the boxes he was holding and offered her a hand to help her up. She was on her feet quickly but the image remained in his mind: a beautiful, mature, white teacher with her legs widely splayed and her panties on parade.

When Blaine pulled Marie to her feet, he used more power than needed and she pushed, involuntarily, into his body, his hot, sexy, sweaty, aromatic, delicious body, as she swung upright. Blaine looked down and Marie looked up. It wasn't planned but their lips met.

Marie pushed herself back before their mouths could open. "No Blaine," she whispered firmly.

But her plea wasn't enough to keep the teen at bay. Blaine overcame the weak resistance the muscles of her arms provided with ease. The second time their mouths touched passion came with it. A sigh of consternation escaped Marie. She didn't want this and fought it for as long as she could, an eternal few seconds.

First she pushed at the teen. When that didn't work, she yielded, stood stock still, arms at her sides hoping disinterest would dissuade the boy. When that failed, she engaged him with all the heat her fifty-two year old body could muster. She plastered her body against his, feeling her dress, her bra, soak up his sweat.

Their tongues touched then dueled in ferocious battle until she tore her mouth away in self-defense, afraid her being, her essence would be irrevocably drained into her tongue and then his. She feared she might melt completely away right there under the football stadium.

"Blaine!" Marie screamed, ripping herself from his arms. "Don't. We can't. This is wrong!"

The black teen was breathing heavily and let her escape even though both knew he could have easily recaptured her.

At home that night, Marie was moody and restless as she remembered kissing the black boy younger than her own children. Yes, he'd initiated it but she'd become as ardent a participant as he. Her body shuddered and her husband asked if she were all right. She answered by initiating sex, something that had increased dramatically since she'd become "involved" such as it was with Blaine.

Hubby was more than nice as he stroked her body in ways he knew she liked before fucking her. She climaxed twice before he reached his release then he stroked her some more afterward. Afterglow tenderness had never been one of his strong suits. Marie was so touched she moved into a seductive sixty-nine where each could enjoy their combined tastes. The result was a simple physical closeness that fell short of orgasmic.

Before drifting off to sleep, Marie felt good that her edginess had been smoothed and she'd be able to handle the young black buck the following day without the tensions of building arousal aligned against her.

She went back to wearing shorts, determined to avoid accidentally enflaming Blaine again by such a tawdry display as happened the day before. The day went beautifully. Neither of them spoke of their prior bad behaviors and Marie was convinced they'd put such mischief behind them.

It wasn't until the second day after their first kiss that Blaine's and Marie's passions flared again. A week earlier, they had gotten the assignment to catalogue the contents of that room under the football stadium that was the athletic department's equivalent of the family "junk drawer." Whatever didn't have a logical home elsewhere got piled in there and forgotten. 

Because of the eclectic nature of the contents and dusty, musty atmosphere, they'd asked for and were granted permission to clean the contents as well as catalogue them. Marie had suggested they use the assignment that had no natural working rhythm to it as a filler for their other work and they generally made it their last stop of the day spending an hour or so there.

When the couple reached the door leading under the stadium two days after their first kiss, it was as if all Marie's good intentions got left at that door. Blaine caught her in his arms as soon as they entered the room. Marie fought briefly but half-heartedly.

"Blaine, we can't do that again. You agreed."

"I didn't agree to anything."

"But surely you see that it's wrong, we're wrong."

"I want to kiss you again, Marie. It was all I could think of last night."

It was all I thought of too, honey, Marie thought but didn't say before she melted in his arms again.

They made out longer this time, more kissing, more clutching. It was glorious. Marie felt like a teenager again as she sucked Blaine's tongue into her mouth, nibbled at his earlobe and pushed her tongue into his ear. Blaine held her tightly but tenderly, protectively as he explored her mouth.

This oddest of couples, the fifty-two year old married white teacher and the nineteen year old black college sophomore-to-be, sucked face for more than twenty minutes before they straightened their clothes and began their work in the room, cleaning up, writing up an inventory of what needed to be done.

Both were quiet as Marie drove Blaine home until he blurted out, "You're the best kisser I've ever known." She didn't return the compliment although she could have.

"We shouldn't do that anymore," she told him.

"I know, but is there really such harm? We can control it. It's only a little harmless kissing."

"I know honey," Marie said, calling him a term of endearment for the first time and immediately regretting it. It was a harmless name to her but she worried he'd misinterpret it. "But we shouldn't."

"Just kissing, Marie, that's all it is."

By their fifth time in what she had come to think of as "our room," Marie sought Blaine's lips as eagerly as he did hers. The smooching began even before they entered the large, windowless enclosure as Marie anxiously sought Blaine's body as he fumbled to unlock the door.

She sealed her soft body to the hardness of the young footballer's, raking the muscles of his arms and back with her manicured nails. She ground her hungry pubis against his, searching for whatever the youth had hidden in his jeans yet too reserved to seek it actively with her hand, fearful as she'd been with Andre of taking things too far.

Marie was happy, delighted really, to engage in the hot kissing with Blaine. It was basically harmless yet such fun. It made her so hot, though that she'd speed home after dropping him off and make out with herself, much more intimate make out sessions. 

It was about a week after they'd begun their extracurricular activities that Blaine, unexpectedly, took the next step. He'd bided his time, lulling the pretty fifty-something into a false sense of security. He had her pinned against one of the support posts, her arms around his neck, her mouth plastered against his, her tongue thrust boldly, hungrily into the mouth of a black kid a half a decade younger than her own children.

Marie's back was arched as she pushed herself against Blaine when his hand slipped up her body and cupped her breast. Marie's mood changed in an instant. She was on high alert when she ripped her mouth away from his.

"NO!" she shouted, pushing the huge black hand holding an entire breast with ease, away.

"Yes," Blaine hissed, recapturing her mouth with his and putting his hand back on her body, onto the side of her chest but not actually on her breast.

Marie clutched his wrist in her hand, grappling valiantly with the much more powerful youth, fighting so bravely, like a mother grizzly protecting her cubs, because her boobs were the gateway to her body. Once a man discovered she liked her tits handled roughly, she had very little chance of refusing him.

A man who pulled and pinched her nipples soon got virtually anything he wanted from her. Blaine did not discover quite that much about her that first afternoon when he made Marie's mammaries available to himself by pinioning both of her wrists behind her with one of his mighty mitts.

Marie was powerless and Blaine's other hand had free roam of her upper body. They kissed with even greater passion from Marie, yet he heard a stream of overwrought protestations whenever a kiss was broken.

"Stop it Blaine...don't do that Blaine...I'm serious Blaine..." and when he had the audacity to suggest she was enjoying the fondling more than she let on, "Fuck you Blaine."

"Why Marie," Blaine began obnoxiously, knowing he'd hit a chord in this older woman who excited him like no other, "such language. I didn't even know you knew that word." Blaine pulled both her arms behind her, forcing her to arch her back, pushing her breast out temptingly.

"You're a prick!" Marie spat, still trying to avoid getting mauled again, knowing she'd likely lose control to this black kid.

"Perhaps," he said, "but you have a lovely breast and it looks like it's aching to be touched." 

Blaine had been moving his hand around Marie's chest deliberately avoiding her proud, hard-nippled tit while she subtly arched her back into his hand. Blaine's right hand pinned Marie's arms behind while his left hand swooped in from the southwest, cupping her swollen breast.

"Please..." was all Marie could muster as her mouth sought his. 

Blaine didn't know if it was to have been "Please yes," an admission of need or "Please no," a furtherance of false protestation. Marie's mouth and body left no ambiguity, however. She pressed her tit into his hand even as moans escaped her throat and her groin humped at his leg.

The odd couple continued their fervent make out session for another fifteen minutes, as her breasts became as important a part of their passion as their lips and tongues. Her heightened arousal didn't go ignored by either of them as Blaine felt the heat of her body pressed against his and she felt the slick evidence of her own arousal dampen her panties.

Marie's words still protested but her body did not. She had a trump card though, and she knew it. She played it just as her ardor threatened to boil over when the black boy cupped, flattened, kneaded, and massaged her tits. 

"Blaine, we've got a job to do."

So ingrained was the work ethic his parents had worked so diligently to instill, those words always snapped him out of whatever trance he was in.

"Please don't ever do that again," Marie beseeched as she drove Blaine home. "I'm OK with kissing you although even that is a bit disturbing, but it has to stop there. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Marie."

"Promise me you won't do anything beyond kissing."

"I'll try," Blaine promised.



Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 04



Blaine had felt Marie's tits for the first time, sending her into an outrage...and a sexual frenzy. She struggled, beseeched, and called him names in protest but he'd ignored her and she'd become disturbingly aroused.

After dropping Blaine off the day of the tit touching, Marie went home and began searching for an 8" black plastic dildo her husband had bought her years before. She'd told him it was too big even though it wasn't and they'd put it away after one use. It is one of the sadnesses of a woman that she will sacrifice pleasure for reputation – even with her husband, perhaps especially with her husband.

She didn't even know whether her husband had kept it and began making plans for what object to use as a substitute for the substitute cock should she fail to locate it. I wonder if I have any cucumbers, she thought as she headed for her husband's porn trunk, the most likely place it would be.

She smiled excitedly when she saw it there among the old, x-rated videotapes they no longer watched. Their ages, perhaps more Dave's than hers, had conspired against them and their sex lives had been on the wane for several years. Oh shit, Marie thought as she hefted the fake cock the size of which only Andre's had ever compared to before, I can't believe that was ever in me.

After finding the object of her desire and tingling to the thrill of imagining sliding it into her pussy, Marie gave it quick kiss on the head and put it aside to retrieve the tube of lotion she'd spotted at the bottom of the box. Marie slicked up the phony cock. It was going to be only the second time she'd had anything of that size in her cunt and the first time she came so hard she banned it from her life.

That kid is getting to me, Marie thought when she'd recovered from her afternoon pseudo-fuck and was washing off the black invader. She knew she'd have to be extra cautious with him. She'd even made up her mind to ask to have Blaine reassigned but the next morning thought better of it because tongues would wag.

Without any justification, people would think untoward things about Blaine. What had he done to make her look for a different partner they would wonder? That would have been unfair to him. Plus, she didn't want him reassigned. She liked Blaine, liked kissing him. But it simply must be kept to that.

Blaine kept his promise to refrain from feeling her up the following day. They went to their room at the end of the day and made out like they had before Blaine's hand had ventured onto forbidden flesh. He moved his hand on her again. He moved it all around her breasts, but he didn't touch them even when she pushed her chest out invitingly. 

It made Marie so hot to know how she was controlling the fractious young stallion. She went home and initiated sex with her husband for the second time in a week. She couldn't remember the last time she'd done that.

On the following day, Blaine again touched Marie's breast. His lips silenced her protest. This time her fight was short and consisted of verbal protestations only. This time she didn't try to push his hands away even though that's what her words communicated.

Marie was much less nervous this time as Blaine groped her. She'd made up her mind to try to enjoy the feeling her tits produced when fondled. She wasn't surprised when the black youth tried again. Where would the species be, she reasoned, if males gave up at the first hint of rejection? 

That night, hubby Dave got lucky for a third time in a week although his wilting member forced a sweet, al dente style sixty-nine, minus the creamy finish, instead of a fuck. Where hubby couldn't complete his act, Marie did magnificently, humping her wet gash up and down his face and tongue.

By the third day of titty play, Marie's arms were around Blaine's neck from the start, offering the boy what was now intruding on her thoughts with disturbing regularity: complete access to her upper body. He took full advantage of it. Both his hands roamed up her body, cupping and massaging Marie's tits.

"Oh god..." she breathed as she arched her back, daring young Blaine to test her tortured willingness to permit him all the intimacy above-the-waist, over-the-clothing fondling allows.

Marie was enjoying her sexual reawakening at age fifty-two. Her passionate make-out sessions with Blaine during the day made the sometimes hot and sometimes mellow sex with either her husband or herself at night immensely pleasurable. She'd even re-introduced herself to an eight-inch piece of rubbery black plastic she'd re-christened Blaine, Jr. and was "dating" on a regular basis. Junior was a wonderful lover.

All of this new heat in her life was courtesy of her work partner that summer, a nineteen-year-old black boy. She'd think of him constantly whether she was with him or not. He could do things to her cunt that no man had ever done and he hadn't even touched it. Of course that's the way it would have to stay because there were just too many taboos to cross to get from where Marie had been for the past thirty odd years to actual sex with the handsome onyx sculpture masquerading as a college kid home for the summer to make money.

No sex with Blaine didn't mean she couldn't make out with him though, so she spent the better part of a half-hour every day sucking on his tongue and letting him suck hers. The pair even engaged in some mild petting as Blaine was permitted manual access to Marie's still supple upper body while kissing her. Marie couldn't remember ever having so much sex as she did that summer with Blaine.

Something had happened one afternoon, something different. Blaine had taken his shirt off because of the heat, something he was doing with increasing regularity, and his black body glistened with sweat.

"You have such beautiful muscles," Marie said, tracing a finger along Blaine's abdomen as he drank from a bottle of water.

He grabbed her and kissed her, pulling her body into his, his sweat seeping in the fabric of her dress. She pressed her face into his chest when he broke to take another drink. She breathed deeply, drinking in the heady muskiness that blasted through his pores. She opened her lips to lick at him.

"Oh god, Blaine," she groaned when he broke their second kiss of the afternoon. The thoughts in her head were making it spin, thoughts of him.

For the first time, Blaine reached under Marie's shirt. Initially, her delirium didn't even detect the new movement. I simply felt like something Blaine had done hundred's of times already, run his hand up her body, except this time it was physically hotter.

She moaned and leaned into his caress seeking his mouth again and expelling passion into it. After a few seconds of playing with Marie's breast over he bra, Blaine slipped his fingers underneath it and touched her bare nipple snapping the pretty, mature blonde out of her trance.

"Damn it Blaine!" Marie shouted in a voice loud enough to echo back in time and wake up the ghost of everyone who'd ever visited the room. She pulled back violently, her shirt and bra coming up, baring her naked breast briefly. She knew he'd seen her tit with it's hardened tip and used the anger at his uninvited invasion of that portion of her privacy to animate herself. She stomped out of the room, pulling her bra cup back into place and straightening her top while screaming, "Get in the fucking car, Blaine!"

Marie drove home in petulant silence. She didn't even return Blaine's "Good night, Marie" as he exited her car. Once she was home, however, she raced to the mirror and pulled up her bra and top like she was trolling for beads at Mardi Gras.

Her nipple was still wonderfully erect as she knew it would be. He's seen you! Marie exalted, looking at her bare breast in the mirror, flicking at the nipple with her fingers. And touched you! Marie couldn't help grinning at herself in the mirror as she pushed her tits around like she was offering them up to the young black man who'd stroked them, well one of them anyway, earlier.

Suddenly she remembered something she'd seen in Dave's porn box when she'd gone looking for Blaine, Jr. She hadn't forgotten about them when she saw them in that box, but she hadn't seen them in years either. They were probably thrown away long ago is what she'd have thought had she thought about them which she hadn't. But now she was and she went to the box where she scooped out the small, glittering objects and looked at them resting in the palm of her hand.

She could still remember Dave giving them to her one Saturday evening when they were enjoying a few libations on their deck. At first she didn't know what to make of them. Were the stones real? No matter, they looked beautiful. But what were those clasps for? Marie had pierced ears.

"I don't get it," she said to her husband while squeezing the spring loaded metal clamps designed to secure the jewelry to the body. "I'm pierced," she said, holding one up to her ear. Had her husband actually forgotten or was she simply so low on his radar he didn't bother knowing such things. Her spirits sank on her assumption.

"They aren't for your ears."

"Where then?" Marie asked a split second before she realized the answer. "Oh no! You're not putting these there!" Marie tested the strength of the spring by clipping an earring to her little finger. "OWWW!" She handed them back.

But two Cosmopolitans later, there they were, dangling sexily from her nipples with her husband pulling, twisting, and flicking happily away at them. Marie, too, was enjoying being handled in a way that would make many cringe. Marie was no stranger to the pleasure derived from either physical or emotional pain.

Back at the mirror, Marie held the sparkling bangles up to her breasts. Thinking dirty thoughts made her smile and that summer she looked like one of those felines that hailed from Cheshire.

It had been years since Dave had attached things to her nipples but the remembrance brought chills anew. She tried to squeeze open the clasp of one earring with one hand while rolling an already hard nipple between the thumb and forefinger of the other.

The task took surprising force and she had second thoughts about attaching it. Had she really worn it on her nipple when she was younger? She repositioned her fingers on the clasp to get a better grip and it took all her strength to open it.

Simultaneously, she pulled her nipple out, extending it and aligned the clamp over it. She'd intended to ease the clamp closed, getting used to the pressure a bit at a time, backing off when necessary. One thing she remembered from wearing it before was that metal, unlike human flesh had no give to it. Even the tightest pinch didn't have the same unforgiving pressure as the metal jaws of those nipple bangles.

Just as her tender flesh was positioned perfectly, Marie lost her grip and the force of the spring was applied all at once. She screamed and saw stars. Her knees buckled and she fell against the mirror, needing it to prop her up. But even as the throbbing raged, an electricity buzzed her clitoris drawing attention away from her injured nipple.

Eventually, the flare in Marie's nostrils relaxed and she was able to close her mouth. She pushed her face away from the mirror with her left hand as her right had found its way down her body and a finger was polishing her labia with the slick emulsion leaking from inside her.

Marie watched her breast in the mirror as she multi-tasked, playing with her bedazzled nipple with one hand and her be-slicked cunt with the other. What would Blaine think? she thought, if he'd caught her like that and knew he was the cause of her desperation.

The nipple clamps became a regular part of her after work self-abusement just as bare tit fondling became a part Blaine's domain at their end-of-day snuggling...over Marie's initial, strenuous objections, of course. In fact, it wasn't long before he had her partially disrobing in her car while he drove to the football stadium.

"Why don't you take your bra off now?" Blaine asked as he started the six year old Camry Marie had begun the summer job seeking to replace.

"Why?" Marie wanted to know.

"Saves time when we get there."

"I thought you liked taking it off."

"It's gotten old."

So Marie began disrobing herself in the car even as she and Blaine sped to their concrete black and cement love nest.



Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 05



With the lewdness of her new behaviors, her partial undressing for her young black beau in the car and the surrender of her bare breasts to his hands, Marie became like a demanding tigress. Her hands on Blaine became like his usually were on her, caressing his shoulders, his back, his sides, his arms. Pushing herself back from his chest and stomach she admired the stark contrast between her skin and his.

One afternoon she hooked a calf behind his knee, pulling their lower bodies closer, grinding against him. Finally she pulled back, holding his head in her hands, feeling the tight curls of his closely cropped hair and gave him a last, and, had it not been for all the preceding kisses, innocent peck on the lips.

"We've got to go," she said wistfully. Her sexual after-burners had been lit and she was anxious to get home and pleasure herself while his aroma still lingered on her olfactory.

"I can't," Blaine said, in an almost apologetic whisper.

"Why not?" Marie demanded, stepping back, exposing the reason for the young black man's incapacity.

Marie had never seen a bulge as obscene as the one occupying the front of Blaine's jeans. It seemed to go down his pants leg forever. In their previous sessions, Blaine had struggled mightily and, for the most part successfully to constrain his cock during his make out sessions with the pretty, much older teacher. 

This time, her passion overwhelmed his caution. This time when he fought his erection it won. And now both were looking at the result of that battle. Marie shuddered and she felt something unexpected and pleasant roll through her loins. Her need to rush home suddenly increased a hundred fold. But Blaine was having problems of his own.

"Ow!" he exclaimed. "Oh shit, it's starting to hurt, Marie!" he moaned, grabbing his crotch, attempting to shift his package to a more comfortable position, trying to will his phallus to go away. It wasn't working.

"Let's go out to the car," Marie soothed even as Blaine's struggles with his penis enflamed her. "Nobody will see and it'll probably go down during the ride."

"It won't go down while you're next to me," Blaine wailed. "and besides, even if it did, all the precum in it will just drain out and my mom would see it when she did the laundry. She's got radar for that kind of stuff. I can't even jerk off at home."

Like you couldn't wash your own fucking pants for once? Marie muttered to herself bitchily.

"Please Marie. I've got to take it out before I damage something."

"Oh for god's sake," said an irritated Marie. "Do it over there, I suppose," she said pointing to a darkened corner.

But there was much more than annoyance to Marie's feelings at that moment. There was lust: pure undiluted lust, as pure as she'd ever known. It had begun with Blaine's half naked body, his kisses, his smell as arousing as anything she'd ever experienced, as effective an aphrodisiac as the legendary Spanish Fly.

Marie had already wanted to race home to finger herself before the boy's erection appeared and, like hard-ons often do, became the conversation. Now she was beyond reason as she watched the incredible stud that was her summer helper walk to the corner to fix his hard on problem. 

Marie, if she'd thought about it at all, would have expected the boy undo his fly and make the needed adjustment. What he did was undo his pants and drop them to the floor.

More surprising than that, to Marie at least, Blaine wore tighty-whitey briefs. She didn't know what she'd expected, but those weren't it. They were so tight across his buns the darkness of his skin bled through. What happened next was more surprising still.

Instead of the quick shaft shifting most men needed and didn't require dramatic re-positioning of clothing, Blaine also lowered his briefs. Marie couldn't believe her eyes when those dark chocolate buns came into view.

Oh shit! Marie groaned silently as she ogled Blaine bubbled posterior, feeling the fermentation processing in her vulva speed up like heat and carbonation had just been added. Holy fucking shit! She felt faint.

Blaine's briefs formed a thick white line, the kind you make with the side of the chalk rather than the tip, a few inches below the tops of his legs. His shirt was off, his jeans were bunched at his ankles, and his underpants were just above mid-thigh. He was, for Marie's purposes, naked, definitely naked where it counted even if her view was from the less desirable side of the room. Still, his cock was out where it was possible for someone to see it even if she couldn't. 

Yumfuckingeeeee, Marie thought excitedly as she stood and watched the young, black stud revealed lewdly before her. He was built the way only certain college and professional athletes are built: broad shoulders; tapered back; narrowed waist and hips; long legs; muscles everywhere. 

Try as she would to take him all in, Marie's eyes kept darting back to that tight butt. She was reminded why she sometimes stayed to watch the professional football game her husband had on a little longer than a lack of interest in the game would indicate. It was because some running back, or wide receiver, or defensive back's butt seemed to be calling her by name through the television.

Now that high definition, big screen TVs had completed their take over of her home, ass viewing was even more arousing and satisfying. The best buns were, invariably, on the black guys. Not only were their buttocks more meaty but their tight, often white, pants were so thin as to be translucent.

The blackness of those ass cheeks could be seen right through the pants. The white straps of their jocks could be easily made out, confirming that what one was seeing was indeed that beautiful black skinned ass. Sometimes when Marie was watching TV in another room while Dave watched the game, she would flip over to the game just to titillate herself. She would especially do this if she knew a favorite player was playing.

Now she was viewing one of those fabulous hineys in the flesh, no football pants to cloud the scene, just pure 100% Blaine. Her mouth began to water and she understood why. She hadn't performed analingus since college but she immediately remembered the perverted rush she got licking a boyfriend's sphincter. She'd tried to interest Dave but, while he tolerated her sliding a finger in his back door while fellating him, he had pushed her away the few times she approached the wrinkle with her mouth.

Now, she wanted nothing more than to separate Blaine's cleft, breathe in his musky aroma, bury her face, and lick away. Marie was mesmerized and it wasn't until she detected his arm moving that she looked away from Blaine's black butt.

"Blaine!" Marie whispered although it wasn't necessary. Nobody was around to hear them. "What are you doing? We have to go."

"I have to finish this first," he answered somewhat out of breath. "It's the only way I can get it back in my pants."

He's jerking off! Marie thought incredulously. He's actually beating his fucking meat while I'm standing here watching!

"B-but Blaine," she stammered. "I'm standing right here!"

"Do you want to watch?"

"Blaine! Don't say things like that." Certainly she wanted to watch and just as certainly she wouldn't allow it.

Both became quiet as Blaine sought his release into a corner of a stuffy storage room beneath the stands of the high school football stadium. Marie may have held her breath the entire time as she watched the back of a naked black boy whose arm seemed extended an extraordinary distance in front of his body for someone masturbating.

Blaine began grunting and clenching his buttocks. It seemed that his release was imminent. His arm picked up its pace and soon he was moaning loudly as what Marie could only assume was a monstrous orgasm overcame him. She could see him arch his back and thrust out his groin but not the volleys of cum that arced from his cock and landed on the walls or floor.

Marie felt her own body quiver as a sort of Couvade Syndrome equivalence shook her body in a psycho-physiological response meant to share Blaine's pleasure.

"Could you get me a paper towel?" Blaine asked when he'd stopped shaking and groaning. "I need to clean up."

Blaine's hand was behind him and Marie handed him one of those towels, like those in dispensers in public lavatories. All the teams that summer carried them.

"I'll need more than that," Blaine said. "I must be dealing with a lot more than your used to here."

Marie didn't even notice his impudence as she handed him four more then watched from behind as Blaine blotted up the semen that covered his hand and cock. Blaine pulled up his underpants and turned around.

The pouch formed by the enormity of Blaine's softening cock was so large that the elastic of the waist band and leg holes of his briefs was pulled outward from his body leaving gaping openings large enough for Marie to see some black skin of his scrotum through the leg hole and an inch or two of the base of his cock above the waist band before he pulled up his pants and fastened up his fly.

Good lord he's hung! she thought, continuing to stare at Blaine's partially exposed genitals while he finished drying his semen caked fingers with the towels.

"Where can I put these?" Blaine asked holding out the cum soaked paper towels. Marie could see they were drenched with strands and globs of creamy semen.

"I'll take them," she said grabbing the wad from him and walking to the trash shaking her head while Blaine buckled his belt. She could feel the still warm goo on her palms even after she deposited them.

Blaine was putting his tee shirt back on when Marie said, "What about that?" meaning the stuff Blaine had shot on the floor and against the wall.

"I don't know, can't we just leave it?"

"No Blaine, we can't," said Marie, grabbing a double handful of towels and squatting in the corner to mop up the remainder of Blaine's mess.



Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 06



Like the kissing and breast play before it, once Blaine entered new territory by jerking off while Marie waited behind him, the new activity soon became part of the couple's standard pattern. Not, of course, without Marie's obligatory objections that they go back to their previous ways, back to the presumed safety of "just kissing." Of course just kissing hadn't proven so safe at all as now ejaculating was involved.

When the kissing started, Marie objected strenuously, demanding that Blaine revert to the traditional co-worker relationship that included nothing intimate like touching lips and tongues. After a brief period where she pressed for the elimination of the new activity, she yielded, engaging as ardently as Blaine himself, perhaps even more so.

After a week, the kissing led to fondling her breasts. That too met vigorous objections followed a few days later by her eager participation and then naked breast play. Now they'd progressed to the point that Blaine would extract his cock and beat off in Marie's presence if not her direct line of vision.

If anyone had suggested at the beginning of the summer that this fifty-two year old white wife would be making out with a black teenager younger than her own children, letting him feel her up, than standing by while he jerked himself off followed by her cleaning up his cummy mess, she would have bet money that person was madder than a mercury saturated hatter.

Yet, here they were. Blaine would get hard kissing Marie and playing with her titties then have to jerk himself off in the corner afterward. Marie would hand him the towels to clean himself then clean up the cum he shot into the corner, now their corner, just as the room had become their room.

Afterward, Marie would speed home to relieve her own tensions but she was never quite as desperate again as that first time. By the time she arrived home that first time she'd watched Blaine beat his meat, she was already shedding her clothes as she burst through the front door. 

There was a trail of tennis shoes, socks, blouse, skirt, and panties from the foyer to the box that housed her black, plastic friend. Her bra was still wrapped around the gearshift of her Camry where she'd left it in her rush to dildo-bang herself

"Blaine, Jr." had a suction cup on its base and, for the first time, Marie used it to secure the big, fake dick to the corner of the coffee table in the living room where she could ride it while using her hands for other pleasurable activities. Soon she was squeezing her nipples while she bounced herself up and down that wonderful quasi-cock.

She moved one hand down when she felt her grand finale approach. She knew the advancing climax would be a massive one when that filthy thought, the thought she'd ordered banished from her brain on the ride home, returned. 

Suddenly she was unable to control herself. Even if Dave had returned home unexpectedly and caught her like this, she couldn't have stopped. Even if he pulled her off that cock, pried her clamped fingers off her nipple, and slapped her hand away from her clit, she still would have orgasmed gigantically. It was impossible to stop it now.

But Dave didn't come home and Marie careened unimpeded toward the brink of an orgasm that seemed to lie at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Oh god, Marie groaned as that dirty, filthy thought animated her, dominated her, consumed her. It wasn't a thought of that beautiful, black boy's hard on straining at his jeans, a hard on she'd caused at age fifty-two.

It wasn't the thought of Blaine's delicious black body standing naked, back turned, sinews glistening, muscles flexing, gluteus maximus bulging out in mouth watering appeal, white briefs underscoring their desirability, blue jeans bunched at his ankles testifying to the urgency in which they were shed.

It wasn't the thought of a college kid jerking himself with enough force and violence to produce an ejaculation, or that she had induced that need in him, or that such a taboo act had taken place in plain view just a few paces from where she stood, or that she hungered in some way to pry his cheeks apart and feast on his wrinkled sphincter, or that she hungered even more ardently to be on the opposite side of that black body, mouth open, tongue out ready and eager to receive his blasts.

It wasn't the thought of passing Blaine the means to clean himself up after his messy eruption, nor the fact that the job required more than one towel, nor that accepting that cum covered paper transferred small amounts of warm cream to her skin, nor that the kid with the incomprehensible bulge that fried her brain when she saw it in his jeans claimed a small dominion over her by implicitly expecting her to dispose of his mess.

No, the thought that had Marie barreling like a rogue comet toward an oblivion-causing collision took possession of her mind as she stood and looked at those blotches, strings, and blobs of semen deposited by Blaine on the walls and floor of that corner. 

As she squatted and dabbed those towels in the jism, swishing it around to hasten its absorption, seeing the gooeyness, smelling its distinctively male aroma wafting up, she wanted nothing more than to kneel right there and use her tongue instead of the paper. That thought was what was driving her crazy.

The thought completely disgusted her like nothing she could think of. More than eating Brussels sprouts when she was eight, more than swapping spit before her first French kiss, more than swallowing ejaculate before her first blowjob, more even than swiping her tongue across a man's anus before her first adventure in rimming.

Yet despite her revulsion, Marie also felt the inferno in her loins at the prospect of placing her lips against that wall and slurping in Blaine's juice. And it was that incendiary image that animated Marie from the time she entered her house that afternoon, disrobed, and licked the base of her big black dildo to provide greater suctioning adherence to the coffee table so she could ride it up and down and up and down until this exact moment.

Marie's mind was still functioning, barely, when she brought her hand up to her nose and breathed the remnants of Blaine's cum still clinging there from cleaning up his mess. The aroma started the climax and, when her tongue reached out and licked at where the semen had been, she erupted.

Marie thrashed about for more than a minute as she ripped at her nipples, first one and then the other. She slipped two fingers into her cunt along with the fat dildo already there. If she'd had a third hand, she would have been fingering her ass but that would have to remain a quest for another day...another dildo perhaps.

Juice poured out of her flooding the table, soaking into the cloth runner covering the top and running down the corner leg onto the rug below. It's a bit clichéd, but Marie lost track of things for a few moments. The next thing she remembered was lying on the floor, her leg in a cooling puddle, the black dildo still up her cunt. Apparently she'd taken it with her, clenched in her twat, when she'd blacked out.

Marie had a heightened sense of apprehension when she drove to Blaine's house the next morning to pick him up for work. Her escalating relationship with the black kid was getting completely out of hand. Even if the sexual actions they actually engaged in together were rather tame by most standards, they were driving her insane when she was by herself. She'd lost fucking consciousness for god's sake!

Yesterday, she had again renewed an oft made, oft broken pledge to cool things with Blaine after she'd fucked herself unconscious remembering the arousing, back turned jerking off he'd administered while she watched...and cleaned up after. Either they'd go back to their pleasant French kissing sessions coupled with the occasional over the bra and blouse breast petting or she'd break things off cold turkey.

There were only a few weeks of summer remaining and she was determined to escape the most exciting season of her life with a modicum of her dignity intact even if it meant concocting an excuse, quitting her post, and settling for a more modest mode of motorized transport than those featured in the brochures decorating virtually every flat surface of her house.

It wasn't that Marie disliked Blaine; it was that she feared him. Not physically. She had zero illusions that the young black man posed any safety issues for her at all. No, what worried Marie was that he seemed to have some sort of mental control over her, some Svengalian or Rasputainian ability to move her foot to the gas pedal every time she tried to apply the brakes.

The couple with one of history's most unusual "closing up" routines had begun traveling the final leg of their daily peripatetic wanderings, the trip to "their room" under the football stadium with Blaine at the wheel of Marie's Toyota. 

It started when he had suggested that he drive so she could be left free in the passenger's seat to remove her bra thereby increasing the efficiency of Blaine's access to her bare boobs once the door to their room closed behind them. 

It startled Marie a little to discover the alacrity with which she agreed then sat next to Blaine and took off her brassiere without removing her blouse in a daily act worthy of, if not Houdini himself, at least his best apprentice. It made her smile as she draped the intimate garment over the shift knob on the center console, a reminder of their inappropriate intentions.

However, the afternoon after the day she'd passed out while pleasuring herself, Marie sat frozen, her bra where it had been since she'd dressed that morning.

"What's wrong?" Blaine asked when he noticed that all was quiet on the bra removal front.

"Blaine, we need to talk."

"Can't we talk while you're taking off your bra? You said you were pressed for time today."

"It's about the bra," Marie said after taking a deep breath. "I'm not taking it off today. We're getting crazy Blaine. We need to slow down." What she meant was, I'm getting crazy Blaine. I need to slow down.

Blaine pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road and switched off the engine. "Take off the bra Marie."

"The bra is not coming off Blaine."

"Take off the bra Marie."

"Blaine, I'm not saying I won't take it off ever again, just not everyday. It's too much."

They were parked just off the busiest two-lane highway in town and cars were beginning to have difficulty getting around them. Traffic was slowing perceptibly, Blaine was not yielding, and Marie was getting nervous. "Please Blaine, just for today, OK? I'll take it off every day for the rest of the week, I promise."

Marie's desperation elicited no sympathy. Worse that none she realized as she fumbled with the clasp of her bra while gawking drivers in passing cars leered at her embarrassing predicament. Once Marie's bra was seated in its customary position wrapped around the car's gearshift, another of the soft humiliations Blaine insisted on, he started the car and drove directly to their room.

Neither the nineteen-year-old black youth nor the mature white wife nearly thrice his age spoke of the capitulation of her sexual sovereignty to him but both realized it. Marie had played her hand and he'd called her bluff. Whatever she refused him going forward would be at his discretion, not hers. Marie had honestly believed she had the will to back her play going in and now, even she must acknowledge she didn't. No longer would she have the comfort afforded by the blindfold that some fig leaf guarded her dignity.

I'm a slut, Marie groaned silently to herself as the cool breeze from the car's air conditioner stiffened her nipples. I'm his slut. He controls me now, and even in the embarrassment of my inability to fight primitive urges I had no difficulty mastering even at the height of puberty, I can feel my juices forming in volumes I've never known.

Marie worried as Blaine sped to their spot that he might demand more in light of his triumph at the Battle of the Side of the Road. But he didn't claim his spoils, at least not just then. 

The remainder of the week consisted of the pair enjoying the illicit pleasures of their newly elevated routine: 1) heated making out with vertical dry humping and knocker hockey, followed by; 2) both staring at Blaine's erection straining in his jeans, followed by; 3) Blaine facing the corner and jacking off while Marie bit her lip and felt her pussy flood, followed by; 4) Blaine cleaning up with paper towels supplied by Marie then turning around half way through tucking his half hard cock back into his briefs offering Marie the magnificent sight of a bulging white cotton pouch wetted to translucence at the tip by the still oozing semen with glimpses of black groin skin at places where Jockey, Inc. designers failed to anticipate the young black man's extraordinary dimensions, followed by; 5) Marie mopping Blaine's ejaculate from the room's corner with its increasing peep-show-booth smells.

Marie raced home each day to renew the acquaintanceship between her hand and her cunt...or between her cunt and her dildo...or among her hand, her cunt, and her dildo. Marie masturbated more often that summer than she had the entire decade that preceded it.

Marie wasn't the only one in her household getting much more sex than before summer began. Her husband Dave began feeling friskier because his wife was. It started one night in late June when Dave noticed Marie slip into bed wearing slinkier than usual attire.

Their sex life had disappeared fifteen years ago because of, well to put it discretely, an indiscretion, then gradually rekindled when it appeared their marriage would survive. While they never again reached the quantitative peaks they'd enjoyed before Dave's affair, the quality, on occasion, returned.

Then, in the last five years, Dave had begun that discouraging descent into erectile hell where that most reliable buddy every man had had since puberty began to suffer ill health.

Both Marie and her husband moved beyond those frequent and explosive periods of passionate infernos to occasional reunions of tender, mellow satisfactions. Then, that summer ardor flared anew. Urgent hands, rigid phalluses, rocky nipples, sloppy pussies, and hungry mouths returned with sexual mayhem on their minds. Perhaps this was their supernova where they expended more sexual energy in one last gigantic explosion of a summer than they had in their entire thirty-year history to that point.

It if was, they embraced it with all the verve of a condemned man's last trip to the whorehouse, or the virginal teen's discovery that his mom's friend has the hots for him. Old VCR tapes were exhumed from their musty chest and a player hooked up to the bedroom TV. High definition DVDs were purchased and consumed in random chunks interspersed with ardor sating bursts of frenzied stroking and sucking. Marie even visited an adult products store for the first time and, with equal parts embarrassment and excitement, assisted in selecting pornography for her home.



Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 07



Despite all the sex Marie was having in the afternoon's with herself and at night with her husband, she'd wake up in the middle of the night or get up early in the morning and go into the computer room where she'd visit sites that featured pictures of naked black men.

She'd stare at their cocks and marvel at the size and the color while she petted her pussy. She couldn't believe that a boy like Blaine could be anywhere near the size of some of those organs. Those were men's cocks. Yet the way Blaine held his arm so far in front of him as he jerked off made Marie think he might be even bigger. Perhaps he exaggerated, holding his hand far in front of himself, miming a handjob just to excite her. But if that were the case, what explained the semen that coated the surfaces of what had become "their corner"?

Marie clicked through page after page of images of, forgetting their cocks for just a moment, the hottest bodies of any color on the planet. Those alone would have made Marie salivate and opened her pussy spigot. She could have masturbated to those hard, buff bodies alone.

But the pictures contained much more. They showed that dark chocolate color that Hershey's knew sold their candy almost as much as the flavor. The company had tested producing the candy bars in a rainbow of colors but abandoned that effort when test subjects reported being far less satisfied by a blue or pink or amber colored candy bar.

As good as and perhaps better than the delicious, dark paint that stimulated Marie's saliva glands was the enormous size of cock after cock after cock. She may have felt like the guy who found the first dinosaur fossil and thought it looked like the bone of a lizard. Those black appendages looked like cocks but were so much bigger.

Many of the photos also included the face of a pretty white woman, often a blonde like Marie, next to each black cock. That the cocks were bigger than the faces smiling next to them made Marie's head spin. When there were globs of cum smeared over the cocks and mouths, or strings of semen connecting a pair of pretty red lips to a fat, black cockhead, Marie felt woozy.

Marie found it difficult to stroke herself easily while sitting in the office chair and the orgasms she achieved looking at the computer screen weren't always as satisfying as those she achieved under more accommodating circumstances, but she returned again and again and again, night after night after night.

It was perhaps because of all those shiny onyx images that played in her head night and day that she found herself even more excited with her young black man with whom she was sharing a very mild form of an affair.

They were in the corner that Blaine used for jerking off and his hard on started acting up again. This time he didn't walk away to play with himself. This time he just turned around. Marie was right there, staring at Blaine's black back, when he dropped his pants. This time she was right there as he lowered his white briefs to his knees.

Right there. Right next to the nineteen-year-old with the body sculpted by endless workouts at the gym, endless calisthenics on the football field, endless wind sprints and running the stadium steps, and pushups and sit-ups and blocking and tackling drills. 

Marie pressed her cheek to Blaine's warm, damp back and ran her hand along his shoulders, over his scapula and down his oblique muscles...then back up again. She moaned softly in rhythm to the gentle rocking his stroking of his phallus established in the rest of his body.

Blaine's pleasuring arm moved back and forth. Marie moved her lips to it and kissed the triceps. Quickly her tongue darted out and licked at the light perspiration covering the skin. Her teeth joined in, nipping at his flesh, causing him to ask if she wanted to watch.

"I can't Blaine," she explained.

"Of course you can. No one is stopping you."

By this time, Marie's hand caressing the college kid's back had wandered lower, reaching the tops of his buttocks. When she'd get there, she'd rotate her hand so that her fingernails would scrape across the swell of the tops of his ass cheeks.

"You don't understand," Marie continued. "It's not a matter of permission; it's a matter of control. Mine. If I were to see you I'm not sure I'd able to stop myself."

"Stop yourself from what?"

"Use your imagination Blaine. I'm sure you've had other women in the same condition you now have me."

"You do realize the decision is not yours to make, don't you? You do know that whether or not you watch me jerk off is up to me, not you."

"Yes, darling," Marie breathed on Blaine's back as her middle finger slid a few inches down Blaine's butt crack. "Yes, I'm aware that you've assumed a form of sexual control over me. I just plead with you not to exercise it. I'm married; please don't make me your slut. I'm already having disturbing enough thoughts about you."

"What thoughts, Marie?"

"I can't, Blaine, not even to you. They're too disgusting to utter. I can't understand myself at all."

Marie's face was now pressed tightly into Blaine's back and her hand cupped and caressed his buttock.

"You have the most beautiful ass I've ever seen," she whispered, hoping to change the subject.

Blaine seemed to take pity on her. Rather than press to have her watch him stroke his cock, he let her remain with her cheek pressed against his back, fondling his buttocks. After a minute or so, his unoccupied hand sought her wrist and he brought her hand around his bock and placed it under his scrotum.

Marie shuddered perceptibly at her first contact with Blaine's genitals.

"Stroke my cock," Blaine commanded the pretty blonde teacher thirty-three years his senior currently cupping his buttocks with one hand and his testicles with the other.

"No Blaine," Marie responded, pressing her lips firmly against Blaine's back, hoping he couldn't hear her muffled voice challenge his authority over her.

"Are you saying you don't want to touch me there?"

"I'm saying I'm afraid to touch you there. Your cock scares me just like Andre's did all those years ago. Touching you will likely unleash a force in me I won't be able to control. I'm not like you; I have a lot to lose. Please Blaine, I've already begged you and I'm begging again, don't make me your slut."

Blaine responded physically rather than verbally. With his free hand, he took Marie's hand from his balls and rested it on the one he had been using to jerk himself off. He'd stopped stroking himself and Marie's hand rested atop his.

Behind him, Marie was having trouble retaining focus on reality. Blaine's hand began moving again and hers moved with it. Blaine was pulling on his cock again and Marie's hand moved in tandem with his. She could feel her arm moving in the same rhythm as Blaine's as he played with his cock. Her legs felt rubbery and she was forced to lock her knees in order to remain upright.

Gradually, Blaine used his wrist to push Marie's hand forward to the edge of where his hand ended and his cockshaft began. She knew she was being manipulated, knew her hand was being maneuvered onto the young black's cock just as he wanted and she didn't. But she had no way to resist because it wasn't that she didn't want to hold Blaine's cock, just that she feared what would happen to her is she did.

Slowly Blaine shifted the positioning of their hands until Marie's was on his cock meat and his was atop hers. He began stroking his hand along his shaft taking Marie's with it.

"Your hand is so soft," he crooned in that deep baritone voice. "It feels so nice on my cock. Can you feel how hard you've made me?"

Could she feel it? Was Blaine joking? She could feel nothing else but it. She didn't reply; she groaned.

Slowly Blaine moved their hands along his cock. Marie had to take a step toward his side as her fully outstretched arm wasn't long enough to reach the end of Blaine. Finally, they reached his end and Marie couldn't conceive of a cock that big even as she held it in her hand.

"You're so big," she whispered, not knowing what else to say.

"I know." His answer caused her to giggle and Blaine joined her.

"No," she said, "I mean really big."

"I know." He felt a quick squeeze where a woman should know a man rather well before he feels.

"Do all of them tell you that?"

"All of them?"

"You know what I fucking mean."

"Those that express an opinion do, yes, except they say the biggest, not big or really big. Don't you want to see it?" he asked again, feeling her face still hidden behind his triceps.

"I can't." 

Of course Marie knew she could, knew that what she meant wasn't that she couldn't but that she daren't. If she hadn't had Blaine's naked waist to clutch onto, she wouldn't have been able to remain upright just from the touch of that magnificent organ. Were she to see it, she would have fallen to her knees immediately. She'd already done it countless times in her mind so many afternoons that summer.

The problem was, then what? What if Blaine denied her? Told her to get up? Told her to stop being ridiculous? Told her that the idea that an old woman like her would get to suck such a magnificent dick was utterly preposterous?

Of course the notion that Blaine would turn down a blowjob was also absurd but was it any more absurd that a fifty-two year old white, married, school teacher fellating a nineteen year old black college kid with a cock she now knew extended into at least the next zip code and maybe two codes over?

No, Marie would content herself with letting Blaine jerk off using her hand. Except that suddenly, he wasn't. Blaine's hand had left hers, had left it alone on his cock. Had left her to admit she was stroking him on her own and not because he was driving the action. If she continued now she would have to acknowledge that she jerked him off because she wanted to, because it excited her to, and not because he compelled it. Could she? It didn't take long for her to find out.

"Stroke it, Marie," the words came. "Jerk me off. You know you want to, so just do it."

Marie's hand began to move again because she did want to, because the idea of making that wondrous cock cum was flooding her senses, like the cock was somehow jerking her off and not the other way around. 

She took her time, stroking the full length of his shaft in utter amazement. It wasn't how she'd ever jerked anyone off before. Her hand was moving over the skin whereas before, she picked a spot and gripped there.

"Is this how I'm supposed to do it?" Marie asked.

"Is that how you do it for him?" Blaine asked.

"For who, my husband?"

"For anyone you're in the habit of masturbating."

"Well, that would be hubby," Marie explained, "but you know that."

"Fine. Is that how you jerk hubby off?"

"More like this," Marie said, holding Blaine's shaft somewhere around its midpoint and moving her hand an inch or so in either direction. "Not like this," she continued, taking her hand on a long, extended journey to the end of Blaine's cock and back.

"Try this," Blaine said and moved her hand moved out to the end of his dick.

Marie grasped Blaine's cock just below the head and began stroking more like she had with her other paramours. After about a minute, she felt a slick warmth that she knew to be precum. While her first desire would have been to lick it off her fingers, she resisted her impulses and smeared it along Blaine's shaft, lubricating the action taking place there.

Marie began stroking and Blaine began moaning in earnest. After no more than a few minutes, he bent his knees, arching his pelvis forward and his head back. He turned his neck and pulled Marie's mouth to his. "Jerk it," he breathed just before kissing her. "Make it shoot."

Marie felt his cock spasm and quiver as the pulses of liquid evacuated Blaine's long, long shaft. She pushed her tongue passionately into his mouth even as she struggled to stand despite not climaxing herself. The cum that kept squirting in volumes from his cock started coating Marie's fingers and hand. She could smell the stimulating aroma from where she stood and her mouth watered wishfully.

"I'll get some towels to clean you up," she said when it was apparent the all clear signal for the young black man's orgasm had finally been sent.

Nervously, excitedly, Marie turned and retreated to their supply basket and immediately brought the cummy hand to her mouth. She licked feverishly at the warm, salty semen as she walked to get the towels. Handing Blaine the paper to clean himself with, she sagged against his back, smelling her fingers as he mopped his cock.

Summer was almost at an end. Marie and her young beau continued their erotic, quasi-affair of kissing, petting, masturbating and cleaning up except that now Marie had taken over the duties of jerking Blaine off at the end of the workday. Time was short and she treasured every day. Monday would begin the last week of the assignment. Despite working six-day weeks, the summer had flown by.

Partly in response to the waning time she would share with Blaine, Marie secretly upped the ante in her sexual subjugation to young Blaine's big black cock. She'd taken to cleaning up after her young stud by using soap and water to cut down on the odor the semen left behind. With the walls now sanitized, she took to sending Blaine from the room while she cleaned so she could be alone with his cum.

"Why don't you go out to the car and get yourself a Pepsi while I spruce up?" Marie asked as Blaine tucked his bulging white pouch behind his fly and zipped up. Marie amazed herself that she could so calmly describe mopping up some black youth's fresh cum as sprucing up like she were hanging some spring drapes, or painting the spare room.

"Why do you even do that Marie?" Blaine asked. "Nobody ever comes down here."

Marie began giggling at Blaine's unintended double entendre immediately and couldn't stop. It struck her as enormously funny. Blaine didn't get it.

"What?" he asked when he heard her laugh.

Marie handed him his shirt. When he'd slipped it over his head, she took his well muscled arm, pressed her tit into it, and led him back to the corner where they both could see the splotchy white mess Blaine had made.

"Nobody ever cums down here?" Marie said and started laughing again.

Blaine laughed with her though not as hard or as long. "For a teacher, you've got a filthy mind," he said and swatted her on the butt.

Marie covered her ass with her hands and faux pouted. "Even a dirty minded teacher knows it's the one who made the mess that's supposed to get the spanking."

Blaine left to get a cold drink while Marie ran some detergent and water into a bucket. She knelt on the concrete floor looking at the trail of creamy seed on the floor and on the wall. She walked forward on her knees. When she got to the corner her pussy was dripping just like it always was when she performed this ritualistic cleansing. She was very close to cumming because this time the ceremony would be slightly different. This time, she'd clean the wall not with a sponge, but with her tongue.

The sponge was in the bucket behind her as she knelt, tucking her feet beneath her. She placed her hands on the angled walls of the corner and braced herself as she moved her face closer. She breathed deeply capturing that heady aroma that is distinctly semen.

The knot that had been in her stomach all day anticipating and dreading this moment suddenly eased. Her labia fluttered a tribute to the ejaculate slowly making its way down the wall. Her nipples throbbed. Pursing her lips, Marie moved in until she felt the oily emulsion.

OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD!!!!!! Marie thought as her heart pounded. She was doing it! She was actually going to lick Blaine's cum from the wall!! She'd been imagining it for several days and the thought had her oozing into her panties so much and so frequently she'd taken to wearing panty liners again even though her monthly flow had all but ceased.

But what she was doing was so unthinkable to the old Marie, so debasing, that it excited her like nothing she could imagine. As she opened her mouth and pressed her tongue against the cum, against the wall, she felt the tremors of orgasm quiver along the smooth folds of her pussy lips and roll towards her clit.

Marie suctioned the first strand into her mouth and pulled back. The gooey, ductile semen formed a long string that still connected her mouth and the wall even when eighteen inches separated them. She cupped her hand under the string so it would have a place to fall as she slurped it in.

Marie was lightheaded as she savored that first taste of Blaine, or any man, from an inanimate surface. Her tongue gave the goo a guided tour of her mouth finally brushing her teeth with it. When the flavor began to vanish, she moved in for another sample, still holding the original dollop in her mouth.

Marie traced her tongue along the wall collecting all the liquid Blaine had spackled it with. Pushing back, she knelt on the floor delighting in the flavor and aroma of the white concoction coating the interior of her mouth. Her southern grotto felt as wet and slick as the one above her waist that now contained a young black man's delicious offering.

Looking down, Marie saw several strips and puddles of cum including one that the hem of her skirt was currently dunked in. She lifted up her hem and felt the dampness that would soon become a stain. Her fingers proceeded up her legs pushing that skirt higher and higher. She could feel the wetness of the cum as the hem rode up her legs.

Marie found her distended labia and began to tug and play with them. They were so much longer and floppier than the ones she saw on women in porn. Both she and her husband Dave liked to pull on them. Dave jokingly liked to say he could probably tie them in a knot and it always felt so good when he tried.

Now Marie was trying to knot those pussy lips as she yanked at them with both hands and tilted her head back in preparation for draining her mouth. Four fingers were stationed in her vaginal channel, wedged as tight as Spartans at Thermopylae, with a fifth from another hand rocking the little man in the boat like it was a dingy in choppy seas.

Marie's orgasm ripped through her as she knelt on that concrete floor, played with her cunt, and swallowed the load of a young black boy.

On their last Saturday together, Marie and Blaine left early. Marie had a date with her husband. It was a celebration for the conclusion of her summer job. Dave would be out of town next week when she actually stopped working so it was a second best choice.

After Blaine's ceremonial tossing off and his subsequent departure for the refreshment in the cooler in the car, Marie found herself on her hands and knees on the concrete, shaking in excitement again. This time would see her ultimate degradation. 

This time she would lap the sperm directly from the filthy cement floor. It's true she had scrubbed that surface religiously for more than a week. It was probably cleaner than her kitchen table at home but it was still concrete, still a floor, still the utter connotation of filthy. 

And she was going to put her mouth on it, was going to lick it with her tongue, just to...what? Abase herself? Prove how big a slut she could be? Erase decades of good behavior in the interests of releasing the slut inside just for a while, experience complete, unfettered freedom just for once?

Marie placed her mouth over a semen pool and drew her breath inward through a tiny hole in her ovaled lips like a reverse whistle. Oily fluid flowed in. It was in her mouth, the cum, that semen that was once in Blaine's body and then on a concrete floor.

Suddenly it all came together. All the aching of the Summer of Blaine, all the smoldering regret of the slut she'd never been, never let herself be, all the sexual flowering re-born, plus the unbelievably arousing masculinity of a black kid one-third her age, the subtle sexual games they had played for weeks, the incessant teasing without conjugality.




Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 07



Marie's mouth was opened wide and her tongue scraped the floor wantonly seeking semen to lap up. The smell, the taste, assaulted two of her senses while her fingers abusing her cunt occupied a third. Her eyes were shut tight closing off a fourth to emphasize the other three when suddenly the fifth engaged, immediately derailing the other three and re-engaging the fourth. Her eyes flew open and she yanked her head off the floor.

"Marie?" had come the startling call.

She looked back over her shoulder at Blaine standing there. How much had he seen? She could feel the cum frosting now drying on her lips. Could he see it? See how shiny her lips were? Did he know what it was? Marie was still on her knees but upright now, turning to look at him.

"I'm just cleaning up," she said with the maximum serenity she could marshall. She could feel the gooiness of the semen on her lips sticking momentarily together as she spoke. She wanted to lick them but wondered how Blaine might interpret that.

"Can we get going?" he asked impatiently.

"Sure, honey," Marie answered, struggling to her feet. 

She was facing him now and wished she turned momentarily away to surreptitiously lick or wipe her mouth clean. Now she was faced with walking out with him with his essence on her mouth. Was it obvious? Would he ask her about it? Make her tell him what she'd been doing on her knees, her lips to the floor? But Blaine didn't confront her.

They rode home in silence. It wasn't until Blaine had opened the passenger door and prepared to exit that he spoke. "On Monday," he said, "I want you to wear your hair in a bun."

"Why?" Marie asked, still unused to her role of submissive to a teenager. Of course the request may not have contained the sexual element that was the basis of her submission, but that didn't strike her as likely. In fact, she was certain it was connected.

"Just do it, Marie. OK? By the way, you've got something on your lips."

Marie managed to drive around the corner before she had to pull to the curb shaking. She yanked the visor down and looked at her mouth. A caking layer of dried cum gave them the look of white lipstick. Her tongue pushed out involuntarily and dabbed at the substance, re-moistening it.

After licking her lips clean, Marie pulled her hair up and twisted it into a lopsided bun. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she remembered the movie she and Dave had watched years ago. Like many couples, Marie and her husband used pornographic videos because watching beautiful people fuck jump-started their libidos.



Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 08



Marie was as excited as she could ever remember. Blaine, the young black kid she had worked with all summer, the kid she was making out with on a daily basis, the kid she was jerking off but whose dick she hadn't seen, the kid whose cum she was eating but whose cock she hadn't sucked had just caught her licking his cum from a concrete storeroom floor although he might not have seen exactly what she was doing.

What he had noticed was she had something white drying on her lips. What he had ordered was that she wear her hair in a certain style next week. What she would do is wear her hair in that style because somehow the ninteen-year-old college sophomore-to-be had gained sexual dominion over the white, married, fifty-two-year-old school teacher.

Marie could remember watching the movie years ago with her husband Dave. It was an era before fantasies of black men and cocks consumed her and this delicious young white stud with a vertical hard on was telling the hot young woman assigned to extract his load to put her hair in a bun so he'd "have something to hold on to" if she knew what he meant. She did -- as did Marie, as did her husband -- and rushed to reconstruct her hairdo into a sexually purposed handle while sinking to her knees.

Now summer was coming to a close, a new car would soon be in Marie's garage, and Blaine had asked the same thing of her as did that young stud in the old movie. Blaine hadn't been so crude, hadn't directly stated her hair style would serve the same specific purpose as it had in that movie.

Was Blaine telling her that she'd be blowing him come the start of the next week? Whether he was or he wasn't, just the idea that he might expect that of her had Marie breathing through her mouth.

For the first time in weeks, Marie didn't masturbate when she got home. She was completely on edge of course, because she'd been so unfortunately interrupted as she humiliated herself on that cement floor and then was presented with the likelihood that Blaine now expected oral sex from her.

Despite her sexual frenzy -- her fingers had already entered her twat as knelt on the concrete licking up Blaine's cum -- Marie fought the urge to continue what she'd already started the minute she arrived home. Instead, she relaxed in a warm, bubble-filled tub. She had to keep reminding herself to pull her hand away from her cunt as it continually slipped up her inner thigh through sheer force of habit.

She sipped wine directly from the bottle as she moved languidly, nakedly about her bedroom, pinning her hair up in a scattered, working coif and coloring her fingers and toes. She tried on a few sets of lingerie, examining herself in the mirror before settling on the bra that produced the maximum lift and cleavage. That its below-the-waist partner-in-seduction was a sexy thong thrilled her.

Marie couldn't remember the last time she'd worn panties that tapered to a single strand that covered neither cheek nor crack in back except that whenever it was Dave had too much to drink and proved a limber, sleepy bed partner rather than steely super hero she'd hoped for when she'd made her daring purchase of that intimate apparel. She'd need to monitor his drinking if tonight was to be as successful as she hoped.

Working all summer hadn't given Marie any significant time in the sun and she looked for a pair of tan stockings to cover the whiteness of her legs. She rolled them on and looked for a suitable garter belt to see if they looked better with or without a garment that many men, including her husband, found arousingly sexy.

Trying on shoes, she found a pair of stilettos that, reduced to their essentials, consisted of a sole, several thin straps, and a four inch spiked heel. Wine bottle in hand, she strolled through the house in bra, thong, stockings, garter and heels in an exaggerated, seductive fashion. 

Stopping in the livingroom for a moment, she placed a foot on the coffee table and touched the lip of the wine bottle to the slick folds of her labia before deciding now wasn't the right time to take a bottle of merlot as a lover. As she brought the bottle back to her mouth, she discovered that snatch flavored vino was delightful as she licked the bottle neck and sipped the wine.

Marie quickly headed straight for Dave's smut locker where she rummaged around for several things. She found the recently purchased DVD first. It featured mature white women with young black men. Below the DVD was an eight-inch, black dildo bought years ago and put immediately away because Marie became fearful of the true enjoyment it's use brought her. She'd begun using it privately that summer and decided to bring it back into their lives that evening.

The final items were a pair of nipple clamps that Marie had to practically empty the chest to find. Both she and her husband were fully aware of the arousing effect rough play had on Marie's breasts, particularly her nipples.

Back in her bedroom, Marie removed her bra and began squeezing the pink tips of her tits engorging them with blood, enlarging and hardening them.

She opened the clamp on one bangle, eased it onto a nipple and slowly, gently released it. She watched herself in the mirror as the jaws of the clamp closed, squeezing her nipple tight, forcing flesh aside before it began to puff out and surround the metal clasp.

Marie held her breath and bit her lip as she adjusted to the pressured pleasure. Finally all the force of the clamp was on the nipple and Marie pulled her hand slowly away. In her shoes, her toes were curled into a tight ball in empathy with her abused breast tip.

A throbbing beneath the clasp began in which Marie could detect her heartbeat and her lips began to curl upward knowing the pounding in her flesh was a harbinger of the pleasure to follow. It came rushing forward in waves causing her knees to buckle briefly. The pleasure began in her nipple and spread to her vaginal lips and walls where it radiated forward to her clit and back along the perineum to her anus, delicious, delightful, pleasant pain, the sexual equivalent of sweet and sour sauce.

Marie started over again with the other breast and savored a second helping of that sexual tug-of-war where pain and pleasure battled and pleasure always won. The clamp squeezed, her flesh compressed, waves started and crashed all over her body.

When she'd finally settled down again, she began examining the damage and the allure. She pulled at the baubles dangling from her tits, pressing her lips together when the delightful pinching sensations briefly returned. She twisted the clamps and watched the torturing of her tender flesh in the mirror, simultaneously feeling sensations in her vagina at the beautiful punishment being acted out on her breasts.

When Marie held her bra up, she didn't like how the color of the nipple stones clashed with the color of the bra. She went back into her lingerie drawer to search for something more suitable. She dropped the bra and stripped off her panties leaving the nipple jewels to dangle enticingly, dancing on the ends of her tits with every movement, jostling and bouncing around the buoyant flesh eliciting a thousand tiny, electric sensations.

Marie was disappointed when the best bra-jewel match she could find was one with a matching bikini bottom rather than a thong. She walked around the room holding up one then the other trying to determine the best trade off between fashion coordination and the ultra come hither signal of the thong.

In the end, she put away the thong and slipped on the bikini. Dave didn't know there would have been a choice because he wasn't offered it. He would be happy enough with the nipple crystals sparkling from across the room as his gorgeous wife swayed in his direction.

After finalizing her underwear selection, Marie took a few moments to examine her bare breasts in the mirror. She wasn't looking for some new fullness or firmness that may have magically appeared when she clamped down on her nipples, she was looking for any stray marks that might be left from one of Blaine's rough mouthings.

She'd seen them there before, the marks, the signs that someone had been playing forcefully with Dave's girl's tits. It was easy enough to distract her husband when he made a move on her boobs. It always had been. She could divert his attention to any place on her body or his whenever she desired. Dave had been content all summer to play with Marie's smallish mounds with the bra on just in case her young black boyfriend had left his mark.

There was no doubt there were discolorations along her breasts. She looked at them closely in the mirror noting each and every blemish, how large it was, how dark the discoloration, how angry the shape. Good lord! she thought, surprised at the extent of the battle wounds displayed on her upper body. When had Blaine done all this damage? How did she not notice what he was doing to her? She knew she'd have to be careful about how much she let Dave see on their celebratory date that evening.

Marie removed her nipple clamps and rubbed her sore tits soothingly. Picking up the black dildo, she took it and the nipple jewelry to her bed table and placed them in the drawer for later. She took the interracial DVD to the player next to the large screen, HDTV atop a bureau at the foot of the bed. She inserted the movie and turned on the TV, fast-forwarding to a point in the film where a woman not unlike her was fellating an enormous black phallus. She paused the movie, turned off the TV, and placed the remote controls in the drawer next to the dildo and nipple clamps.

Marie went to her closet and removed the freshly dry cleaned mostly green sleeveless dress with a hemline somewhere north of her knees and a slit somewhere north of the hemline that she knew to be her husband's favorite. She knew she excited him in that dress and she knew she wanted to excite him. Pulling the protective bag off the dress, she hung it on a hook by the door before strolling into the master bathroom and using a wad of toilet paper to blot the distracting dampness between her thighs.

She heard the garage door opening signaling her husband's return just as she sat down at her makeup table. Rising quickly, she slipped on a thin robe and went to greet him. She got to the kitchen before he entered through the door to the garage, and greeted him with open arms...each of which contained a sweet, iced concoction containing rum.

"Mmmm," moaned Dave approvingly as he took a sip of his drink and hooked his free arm around his wife's waist. 

Both sipped again before his eyes focused on hers and their mouths exchanged an identical sweetness. Marie increased the ardor of her kiss when her husband increased the thrust of his groin. Dave took a third gulp as his wife pulled away.

"Go easy on those," she admonished. "I want you able to go hard on me later." She offered her cutest little-girl smile and batted her eyes unashamedly.

"I should have known you wanted something," her husband said sarcastically.

"Nobody likes a wiseass," Marie rejoined draining the rest of her drink. "I'll be ready in about 45 minutes. Don't fall asleep on me."

She knew that she'd just wound him so tight that sleep was the last thing on her husband's mind. In her bedroom, Marie began to prepare her face and hair for her night out. She found herself giggling silently at the way she accented her mouth with lipstick, gloss, and liner. She puckered her mouth and offered fake kisses to a man that wasn't there. If she'd been asked whether they were for the black boy she worked with or the husband she lived with, she wouldn't have had an answer.

Marie stepped into the dress, sliding her arms into place. She left the zipper down and went to find her husband. What man doesn't like assisting a beautiful woman with her zipper, either up or down?

"You know what that dress does to me, right?" he asked as Marie held her hair aside and he slid the zipper closed.

"This old thing?" Marie mocked.

"Don't be a cunt."

"I thought you enjoyed that."

"I do, which is why when I tell you not to be one you should immediately assume I meant just the opposite."

"In that case, I don't want you looking at any other pussy tonight. I don't care how hot you think she is."

"I only ogle others to be harder for you darling."

"You're such a dick. Keep it up and you'll be ogling a knee to your nuts."

Like most long-term couples that truly enjoyed each other, Dave and Marie knew exactly how much and what type of teasing worked best in what situations.

In fact, Dave was on his best behavior all evening. He had only one drink and delivered the kind of witty conversation that always charmed his wife's pants off. He even took her for several sojourns on the hardwood of the dance floor before his wife that said, "Hard wood, that's what I need. Ready honey?" He couldn't remember the last time she'd been the first to suggest they leave.

Back home, Dave went to use the powder room while Marie repaired to the bedroom. Quickly she retrieved the items from her nightstand. She placed the empty DVD container and remote controls on her husband's night table then licked the dildo's suction cup and planted it upright next to the DVD container. She bent and gave the dark chocolate head a quick kiss.

She went into the master bath, hung her dress on the back of the door and placed the nipple clamps on the counter. She tucked the top half of her bra cups under her breasts and began pinching her nipples to harden them. She heard Dave enter the room just as she was biting her lip, adjusting to the sharp pain of the second clamp digging into her tender tit.

"I'll be right there," she sang from behind the half closed bathroom door as she reapplied a think coat of lipstick. When she heard his low whistle she knew he must have discovered the items on his nightstand.

Marie left the door open a crack, providing a modicum of light to the room lit solely by the low caliber bulb Dave was using to examine the DVD cover in his hand. His attention was quickly diverted to the sensational sight of his wife walking his way in modified bra, panties, garter, stockings, and heels, an exaggerated sway to her hips and a fresh paint job on her mouth.

Of course what grabbed hubby's attention most were those dangling, swinging, glittering jewels bobbing from her nipples. He made an immediate grab for them with his mouth, hooking his arms around his wife's waist and pulling her close, extending his tongue, and curling it around Marie's nipple like an elephant picking up a piece of fruit with its trunk.

Marie clicked off the light by the bed to minimize the lighting and the chance any of Blaine's marks might be detected. She knew, of course, she could easily blame Dave for any discolorations. After all, he hadn't been the gentlest of souls when he nibbled her knockers. She clutched her husband's head to her bosom, swung her leg over her husband's lap and sat down.

Dave was already naked and she felt his erection as it pushed the gusset of her panties into her dripping cunt. She ground her twat farther down Dave's dick while he added the pressure of his teeth to that of the spring loaded metal clasp holding the shiny stone to Marie's left tit. Her groan was close to a wail.

"I guess somebody really does have a touch of jungle fever," Dave joked as his wife disengaged her pussy from his cock and his attention returned to the pornographic photographs decorating the DVD container still clasped in his hand and the gigantic black dildo sitting upright less than a foot away.

Marie could feel the crotch of her panties still jammed into her soaked snatch as she slid off her husband's lap, kneeling on the floor. She leaned forward, kissing the head of Dave's dick as he opened the empty DVD box.

"It's in there already," Marie said to her husband's quizzical expression.

Dave started the movie while Marie licked his glans and felt warm inside when his cock twitched its appreciation just as it always had. A dewy drop of precum had formed at Dave's cockslit and Marie kissed it, deliberately letting the sticky fluid cling to her lips and his cockhead as she withdrew her mouth.

Marie slid into bed beside Dave and moved to the center where she could stroke his body while he watched the movie. The scene been queued by Marie that afternoon and was one of her favorites. A pretty white woman was already kneeling and was sliding the zipper down on a pair of pants without showing any identifying characteristics of the guy wearing them.

Marie had slid her hand up Dave's leg and was feeling his cock as the woman on screen pulled out a long, hard, thick, black cock. She felt Dave's hard on twitch and knew the small white hand on that big black cock excited him as much as it did her. Dave knew his wife had developed a sudden interest in interracial sex and that fired his imagination as well.

The action scrolled past one scene after another each one seemingly hotter than the one before. By the time the third couple began, Marie's cheek lay on his abdomen where she could watch the action and suck Dave's cock at the same time. 

She enjoyed the feel of Dave's modest, hard dick in her mouth as she watched the big black one on screen. It seemed only natural to Marie to imagine her own lips around that on-screen cock. Marie knew the scene well because not only had she watched it with Dave before but she also watched it on her own several times.

Working to time Dave's release to that of the man in the video, Marie also found her own fingers urging herself to join the black actor and her husband in a simultaneous release. Had this been springtime, before she'd begun working with Blaine, she'd have eased her hand away from her snatch so she had a climax for her husband to extract after she'd taken his.

Now that Blaine was part of her life she'd discovered that her orgasms were plentiful and she'd be far from sated after her first one of the night. Dave began groaning, mumbling, telling her how good she was with her mouth. His hips began to thrust and Marie felt the swelling of his cockhead and, a second later, his contractions began.

Her lips were tightly sealed over the base of her husband's dick; his entire length fit easily into her mouth without touching her throat. It was fun to have him fuck her that way. He could thrust in and out, completely and unobstructedly, with the same ease as he enjoyed when fucking her cunt.

Marie felt her husband's hands on her head and the back of her neck, holding her firmly as he desperately fucked her mouth. Her eyes closed as blasts of hot cum splattered the roof of her mouth. She didn't see her video partner blast away at the face of the beautiful actress fellating him but she did erupt on her hand as Dave expended his passion in her mouth. She loved that her husband spurted as fast and as hard as he did when they first met.

After his brief recovery, Dave began playing with Marie, giving back for all the pleasure she'd provided him. He started with the clamps on her nipples, pulling and twisting them to his wife's appreciative moans and groans. As much as she enjoyed it, those clamps had been on for more than half an hour and Marie asked that he remove them.

Next, his hand found its way down to her panties where he discovered Marie's soaken secret. Well, not all that secret, his wife was often dripping wet down there these days. The next scene of the video was Marie's favorite. The guy was quite young, black as black, and hung like a missile defense shield. She groaned aloud as he walked across the room, his cock swaying, flopping from thigh to thigh while the pretty, mature blonde tasked with inducing a money shot from him rubbed her hand between her legs and licked her lips. Clearly she was excited by her role.




Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 08



Dave had finished playing with Marie's nipple clamps and had her panties off. His tongue was flicking in the general direction of her clit and, amazingly, he was hard again. He backed off from time to time to extend her pleasure even though she got mad at his teasing. He'd talk to her and ask her questions as she pleaded desperately for her release.

"Those black cocks really excite you, don't they?"

"Shhhh," Marie whispered, pushing at the back of his head.

"Was your friend Andre that big?"

"That was years ago. I have no idea. Now tend to your knitting."

"But he was big, wasn't he? Bigger than me."

"David!" Marie screeched. She really couldn't remember much about the cock of the black man she'd run from all those years ago but she did know he was much bigger than her husband.

Dave let his face be pushed back into Marie's box. It didn't take long before he was humming his wife's favorite tune, which was anything, regardless of its musical content, that transferred the lively vibrations of his vocal chords along his tongue before transferring them to her aching, desperate clitoris.

He felt her hips pressing at his mouth and was certain her climax was close when he heard her whisper, "the dildo, Dave." He'd forgotten all about the tall dark sentinel standing upright on his nightstand but obviously his wife had not.

"I thought you didn't like this," he commented as he retrieved the hefty gel object located behind him.

"Damn it Dave, can you just shut up for once and fuck me with it?"

Rather than feel chastened by his wife's outburst, her desperately articulated need excited him even more. He had pushed the dildo, surprisingly easily, in to its hilt and began stabbing Marie's cunt repeatedly with it.

As her climax rushed at her like a locomotive opened full-throttle, threatening to push her entire body out of the bed as she thrashed and kicked at the covers, Dave suddenly reared up like the king of the jungle, ripped the shiny fake cock from her pussy and pushed himself into its place.

He was smaller, shorter and thinner by several inches but made up for any dimensional deficiencies with pure dominance bred of ardor. Marie came quickly as the tiger in her bed completed what could have been mistaken for rape had they not been married for more that three decades.

Dave's second climax, something that hadn't visited their plush king sized bed in the better part of a decade or more followed quickly upon Marie's. He crashed almost as quickly as he came, rolling off to the right. Marie felt wonderful, mellow and calm. She only needed one thing to complete her night.

Crawling one-hundred eighty degrees, she snuggled into a sweet sixty-nine, sucking Dave's messy penis into her warm mouth while he brought his lips to her other pair decorated with his cum. Dave didn't cum again, or even get hard, but Marie had a series of gently rolling after-climaxes as her hubby cleaned her cunt.

Marie spent the entire next day resting from the best sex she'd had in the last twenty-five years. Dave proudly left her alone when she explained the nature of her exhaustion. This didn't help her recovery all that much because it just gave her more time to contemplate what Blaine's intentions were for that bun she'd been ordered to wear the next morning.



Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 09



On Monday, Marie had hoped that Dave would be gone by the time she appeared in the kitchen with her hair in a bun. Perhaps he wouldn't notice she hoped as she hurried to get out the door. No such luck.

"I haven't seen you wear your hair like that since...I can't remember."

"The Anderson wedding," Marie offered helpfully, hoping that her own sharp memory would convince her husband that just because his memory of her various hair stylings was incomplete at best, it didn't make it all that infrequent.

"Oh yeah, I remember that. Remember that movie we watched where the guy wanted the girl to put her hair up so he could..."

"No, babe, I don't. Gotta go, see you tonight."

"Remember I wanted you to wear one so I could hold onto it while you..."

Crap! Marie thought as she departed to Dave's voice trailing after her. The guy couldn't remember what color underwear he had on but he knew every fucking scene of every fucking porn movie they'd ever fucking watched.

The day went nothing like Marie had expected. Blaine didn't even mention her hair do. In fact, they spoke of little but work all day. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps Blaine hadn't asked for the bun for sexual reasons. Perhaps he didn't even remember asking her to wear her hair that way at all. Still, he'd been very specific.

At the end of the day, rather than kneeling in their room with Blaine clutching her bun and driving his cock into her throat, Marie found herself standing next a completely filthy young man who'd spent the final hour of the first day of their last week rummaging around dust coated cartons that hadn't had a human touch them in decades.

Fuck, Marie thought disappointedly, this is less than romantic. This is disgusting.

"Why did you want me to wear my hair like this?" Marie asked, determined to move things along and wondering if he asked her to blow him in "as is" condition she'd do it anyway.

"Your hair?" Blaine asked.

"Yes my hair," Marie fumed. "On Saturday, you asked me to wear it like this."

"I did? Oh that's right, I did. I wonder why I said that?"

Are you fucking kidding me? Marie wanted to scream at him. You fucking forgot? Was Blaine teasing her Marie wondered. Yanking her chain? Ready to shout Surprise! Of course I remember. Everybody knows why a guy asks a girl to wear her hair in a bun.

"Christ!" Blaine spat as he tried to dust himself off. "I need a fucking shower."

"Blaine, honey," Marie soothed, looking at her watch glumly. It was getting late and all her weekend musings seemed headed for the mountain of unfulfilled fantasies she already constructed about this kid. "It's getting late. Maybe I should just drive you home now and you can clean up."

"Yeah, maybe..." Blaine responded, continuing to battle the dusty grime covering his clothes and him. He'd slipped off his tee shirt and was beating it against his jeans like a colonial wife giving her rugs their ritualistic spring thrashing. To Marie, it looked like the dust of one garment was just being exchanged with that of the other.

"There used to be..." Blaine continued hesitantly, walking down a hallway as Marie followed. "Yes! It's still here!" Blaine said triumphantly.

He opened a door and both were standing in a small room with a half a dozen or so lockers in it. "The coaches used to shower here and sometimes they let us team captains use it too." 

There was a desk with a few threadbare towels folded and stacked on it. Blaine kicked off his shoes and socks before grabbing one of the towels. He turned his back to Marie and lowered his jeans. Today he wore no underwear, just gorgeous charcoal colored skin.

"Would you get my gym bag out of the car?" Blaine asked without looking around at Marie. "I've got some clean workout clothes in it that I can put on afterward."

Had Blaine deliberately left what would precede "afterward" unspecified Marie wondered while she went to the car and he to the shower. Was afterward restricted to just his shower or would there be additional activities between the showering and his donning his clean outfit?

The water was still running when Marie returned. The room was completely tiled except for the ceiling and upper third of the walls. The entrance to the shower was about twice as large as the average doorway and open. Despite how hot it was outside, Marie could see steam billowing from inside.

Marie held Blaine's gym bag in her hand as she stood in the outer office area while he showered.  He can't be that dirty, she smiled to herself as the shower continued far longer than she'd expected. She was tempted to peek around the corner to see if she could get a look at Blaine's cock. She'd taken two half steps toward the opening when the water stopped

She'd backed up a few steps by the time Blaine rounded the corner rubbing a towel across his closely cropped hair. To Marie's disappointment, he wasn't naked. There was a somewhat small rectangle of terry cloth surrounding his waist, draping down almost to his knees. Circumstances had conspired yet again to require that she continue to imagine his penis, an object that had consumed so much of her thinking that summer. 

If truth were known, she'd probably not spent as much elapsed time in her life considering a single male appendage as much as she had Blaine's. Not any of her schoolgirl boyfriends, nor anyone she'd seen in porn movies, nor Andre's whose she'd spent years masturbating over, not even her own husband's. If truth were known, she'd probably not spent as much time contemplating all those other cocks combined as she had Blaine's that summer.

The towel around Blaine's waist was knotted at his side and his bare hip showed. The front was slightly tented by a pole that lay in repose a couple of inches short of the bottom of the towel. Marie couldn't take her eyes off that tent. She'd "seen" it before of course, bulging in Blaine's jeans, straining at the denim, causing the young man such pain he'd had to turn around and rip down his pants.

This was different, though. Blaine, it, his cock, was far less contained by that towel than it had been by his Wranglers. That towel was secured by a single knot. At any moment that knot could fail sending the white rectangle tumbling to the floor. Marie stared at the front of that towel and, as she stared, she swore she saw it move.

After a minute or so, there was no doubt in Marie's mind. Blaine's cock, hidden by that towel, was getting bigger. It was pushing outward and upward and the result was as incredible as it was undeniable. The bottom of the towel was rising as it was pushing away from Blaine's body.

The towel was still hanging predominantly downward and Marie could see that whatever was elevating it was already perhaps double her husband's equipment. There was nothing Dave could have done save place an extension on his penis that would have moved the towel as far as Blaine had already done and he seemed to have a long way to go yet.

As the towel moved away from Blaine's groin and rose from the floor, Marie could see that single knot on Blaine's hip becoming even more tested, more strained. The towel parted farther exposing Blaine's black hip to Marie's eager eyes. She felt her mouth water and swallowed to drain it. She wasn't aware that she had licked at her lips several times but Blaine was.

The towel pushed up and the knot stretched. The white cloth, twisted and folded into a tenuous clasp, moved, sliding and jumping small distances pushed outward by the continuously expanding organ probing the fabric covering it.

Despite the creeping movement toward an inevitable conclusion, the end came quite suddenly. Marie gasped audibly when the knot gave way and the towel shot outward and upward but not off. The cock bounced up and down four or five times taking the damp white terry cloth with it. 

Marie's mouth hung open as the true length and girth of the phallus became clear to her. That a hard on that big could support a wet towel and still stand straight out from a man's body astounded her. She had become used to her husband's partial erections that couldn't support even its own weight let alone a hefty, wet towel hanging over the end of it.

"Put the bag down, Marie," Blaine ordered her, reminding her of a weight in her hand she'd all but forgotten.

Although he didn't tell her, Marie sensed Blaine wanted her by his side once she placed the bag on the floor. She approached cautiously; concerned perhaps that Blaine was some sort of evil magician who had a dangerous animal concealed beneath that towel. 

She ran her hand up Blaine's arm and over his shoulder as she stood by his side, staring at the amazingly cantilevered, covered appendage.

"Oh god, Blaine," she gasped, "is that really all you, honey?"

"Do you like it?"

"Of course I like it but you didn't answer the question."

Blaine lifted Marie's head so he could kiss her. It was the first time her eyes had left his cock since he walked out of the shower. She was still standing to the side because the presence of that towel-clad weapon precluded her standing in front of him.

Marie ran her hand over Blaine's chest and abdomen as she caressed his tongue with her own. The hard musculature fired off little shivers, shudders, twinges, and tingles all along her erogenous nervous system. She felt her labia swell even further and her clit began to throb. She even had to clench her sphincter to quell a tickling at her back door.

When the kiss was broken, Marie's eyes immediately went back to the rigid tube extending a full foot from Blaine's groin. The edge of the towel nearest the black youth's pubis had flopped over exposing the first few inches at the base of his cock.

Her palm ventured lower until the side of her hand pushed against the place where she could see that he'd shaved his pubic patch. She swiveled her palm and her fingers pointed down at the partially exposed shaft beckoning her so teasingly. The towel was threadbare in a few places and glints of blackness showed through.

"Touch it if you want to know," Blaine said, answering the question Marie had accused him of avoiding. She let out a little shriek as Blaine made his cock jump just as she was about to touch the white cloth covering it.

"Don't do that," Marie laughed, punching Blaine ineffectively in his stomach. "You don't think I'm terrified enough already without you making it jump?"

Marie touched the top of the towel, moving her fingers along Blaine's cock. It was the first time she'd touched it while also looking at it. Even though there was a terry cloth barrier between her fingertips and Blaine's skin, the feel to that turgid phallus still drove her crazy with lust.

She pushed at the hard tube and watched it sway. She grabbed the two sides of the towel under Blaine's cock and squeezed them tight around the thick dick so the damp towel looked eerily like a white cotton condom. She tugged on the towel pulling the black monster beneath thither and yon.

"You're so fucking big," Marie breathed, looking up at Blaine and smiling, taking her eyes off It for just a moment. "Has anyone ever told you that before?" Marie knew the ridiculousness of the question even as she posed it but it was out there, impossible to retrieve, teed up like a big, fat, inflatable golf ball for Blaine to mock, and mock he did, albeit mildly.

"Gee, Marie, I don't think size has ever been discussed before."

"Don't be a..." Marie said then hesitated, realizing she didn't have an end to the sentence when she started it and now floundered to finish. "Well, I'd call you a cunt if you were a woman but that seems singularly inappropriate given this." She gave his cock a squeeze. "And "dick" would probably only egg you on. As you can see, I'm having trouble thinking clearly at the moment and I'm sure you know why. So be nice."

"You know I was only teasing, Marie. I know it's kind of unusual."

"Kind of?"

Blaine took Marie's face in his hands and kissed her. Her entire body shook when she felt his soft, slick tongue slide across he own. From the very beginning his kisses contained a spark that could set her ablaze. They still did.

All the while she sucked at Blaine's mouth, Marie held tightly to the cloth that protected his cock. Now that she actually had it in her possession, nothing was going to take it from her until she experienced it as she wanted. One hand grasped the twisted fabric that held fast to Blaine's cock. Her other hand tried to encircle the shaft about half way between the head and base but she was unable to get more than half way around.

"Kiss it," Blaine told Marie when he'd disengaged his mouth from hers.



Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 10



Unlike before, this time, Marie required no convincing. In the space of a few short weeks of summer she'd been transformed from a fifty-two year old teacher and housewife whose sex life was in severe decline, to a wanton slut-in-waiting eager to submit her mouth for a young black man's pleasure.

Now Blaine was naked as she stood by his side, every square inch of him visible except for that 12" by 3" cylinder protruding from his groin. That was covered by a thin terry cloth towel that Marie clutched tightly in her hand. He'd just told her to "kiss it." 

She'd protested at every step along the way. She hadn't even wanted to discuss sex. But she'd inadvertently blurted out secret knowledge of Blaine knocking up a white girl then confessed and embarrassing episode involving a black man named Andre from her own past just to even things up. 

Even uncomfortable talk of sex is talk of sex. A few kisses were reluctantly given and instantly followed by resolutions to avoid behaviors unsuited to a married woman and a young man one-third her age. Yet her good intentions became passionate make out sessions in less than a week.

Marie was certain she could handle the soft, sweet kissing sessions with Blaine. They were nice, the proper blend of tenderness and passion. His strong arms felt so good holding her body as his tongue traced her ovaled lips like a NASCAR driver under the yellow flag of caution.

The young black kid was such a refreshing change from those awkward twelve tentacled squids she'd had to fend off when she was Blaine's age. If Blaine were representative, perhaps the younger generation wasn't in that hand basket headed for Hell after all.

Marie had tingled all day in anticipation of Blaine making a move on her at the end of their shift. So comfortable was she in Blaine's powerful embrace and two minute apiece kisses, she'd given up her protests and telling him it was wrong, and just accepted the pleasant excitement as something they'd continue to enjoy without regret.

The arousing prep work Blaine was putting in was even paying positive dividends at home where afternoon masturbation sessions proved a wonderful release. When the burning returned after dinner, her husband Dave became the beneficiary.

Dave probably wondered how his luck had suddenly changed but was not prepared to see it stop by asking for an explanation. Marie considered telling him. After all, it was only kissing, and Dave had done much worse. In the end, the questions he'd probably ask kept her silent on the matter.

Marie's best intentions to hold the line at simple, if passionate, French kissing sessions were as easily overcome as those to prevent the kissing in the first place. Blaine's hand crept up her side, playing a game of chicken with her breast. Every time she was sure he would cup her there, and prepared to remove his hand, he changed direction.

Marie spent the better part of an hour one afternoon on an extended period of high alert. Her anxiety was compounded by the fact that part of her wanted him to touch her there. Blaine's kisses were exceptionally ardent and her vagina exceptionally wet. In all honesty, she was as much to blame for that first touching as Blaine...maybe more.

Blaine's big hand moving on her torso had driven her crazy. Her nipples were demanding contact. Blaine had been instructed that all the touching there would ever be between them would be their mouths, their lips, their tongues. It seemed the black college student was trying his best to comply with Marie's wishes even as he got a close to the boundary without crossing it when Marie herself twisted in such a way that her breast contact his hand.

Marie immediately removed the hand but it was, for all intents and purposes, too late. Blaine knew what had happened and so did she. His hand wandered to her breast more and more often until Marie gave up trying to remove it. She warned him, of course, the following morning, not to try that again but the admonition was ineffectual because neither of them desired its enforcement.

Blaine's new knowledge that Marie's rules were flexible, more guideline than decree, meant that he was destined to seek her bare breast, something Marie protested vehemently before accepting so completely she'd even partially undressed herself in public, in her car, on Blaine's orders, just so he'd have easier access to her when they were alone.

Skin to skin touching led to Marie letting herself be stripped naked above the waist so her young colleague could engage in nipple play and soon rough nipple activities. The mature beauty's submission to him and her wanton responses to the aggressive "caressing" he gave her tits led to Blaine no longer being able to control his arousal.

The inordinate size of his cock meant that Blaine had to release it to prevent the insufferable pain a full blown hard on in his jeans would cause. Once out, Blaine was obliged to discharge his semen in order to soften his cock enough to return it to his pants.

It was Marie who insisted on cleaning up his messy cum from the walls and floor of that musty corner in that musty room, finally resorting to lapping up the salty liquid just to feel a second-hand closeness to the young black stud because she feared a complete loss of control were there ever to be a direct transfer of Blaine's essence into her mouth.

But it was that driving perversity, witnessed by Blaine when she was on her hands and knees suctioning pools of semen from the concrete floor and desperately fingering her slick tunnel, that had her standing next to the black stallion, holding his cock by a thin towel and exchanging depths-of-her-soul kisses with a paramour more than three decades younger than she.

"I said, kiss it," Blaine reiterated, halting Marie's mental journey of self-awareness and justification of her current situation.

Placing a hand at the back of her neck, Blaine directed Marie's head toward his groin much as Andre had more than fifteen years earlier. This time she didn't go fleeing into the night. This time she bent at the waist until her lips contacted the towel and, indirectly, the cock supporting it.

Blaine heard the guttural moan that escaped Marie when her lips parted, seeking to surround and capture Blaine's cotton encrusted phallus. Blaine felt the softness of her puffy lips grasp at him and the hardness of her teeth bite at him. When she tried to capture the cloth in her teeth and pull it off, Blaine pulled her head back up and kissed her again.

The kiss must have lasted more than a minute before Blaine broke it. During its duration Marie let go of the ends of the towel she was clutching and slid her hand beneath the white terry cloth draped over Blaine's erection not unlike a man sliding a hand up a woman's skirt. Her shudder was violent and involuntary as Marie experienced that incredible skin-on-skin contact between her hand and that fabulous phallus.

"Oh Blaine!" she shivered as her fingers pushed back along that silken skin until her entire forearm was under that towel with his penis. She could feel the warmth of his cock shaft the entire length of her forearm and it thrilled her. The cock head nestled in the crook of her elbow and she was just able to tickle his scrotum with her fingernails.

"Shit," growled Blaine, grabbing Marie's free hand and looking at her watch. "I have to make a call. Can you get my cell out of my pants?"

Reluctantly, Marie dragged her hand out from under that towel even as she mentally screamed an epithet at her young tormentor. FUCKING CUNT TEASER!!! Perhaps she should have just slid to her knees then and exorcised the sexual demons still tormenting her from the night she ran from the back seat of Andre's car.

Marie handed Blaine his phone and returned to caressing his cock while he dialed. He placed his hand on top of her head and directed her to her knees even as he manipulated his phone. Marie again grasped the long cock shaft, this time with both hands, and began kissing the length of it leaving splotches of pink lipstick she'd refreshed while Blaine showered on the white cloth.

"Hey baby," Blaine purred into the phone like Marvin Gaye crooning "Sexual Healing."

Marie felt like she'd been punched in the gut. Here she was fondling the biggest cock she'd ever encountered, committed to breaking her marriage vows for the first time ever, as nervous as she'd ever been, and this teenager she was expecting to use her mouth to satisfy was talking shit to some girlfriend?

She was completely confused. She should have stormed out, should have told Blaine to go fuck himself before storming out, but memories, regrets of what didn't happen with Andre prevented her. She knelt right there stroking and kissing Blaine's towel covered cock.

Marie could only hear half the conversation as Blaine flirted in some ghetto dialect while she knelt on concrete and tried to distract him with her mouth.

"I know you be wantin' some of what ol' Blaine's got."

"I ain't be done wif work yet."

"I thought your ol' man was sayin' you couldn't ha no mo a dis."

"No, I ain't lettin' him watch. I already tol' him dat."

"Right now?"

"Yeah, I be wif her. I already tol you I be at work."

"I tol you she ain't no biotch. She nice."

"Ain't none a yo bidness if'n I let her suck it or not."

"Yo sho yo be quick? I ain't got da worl's time."

"I need my bag," Blaine said, ending the call, finally returning his attention to Marie.

She was in a state of complete confusion as she, once again, released Blaine's cock to fetch something for him. Who was that woman he was talking to? A lover? That seemed obvious. Why had he called her while the two of them were playing?

Marie felt completely humiliated listening to Blaine flirting with another woman while she stroked his cock. Yet somehow that humiliation had her cunt burning up like it had a hundred and six degree fever. Yes, she'd get Blaine's bag; she'd do whatever the fuck he wanted.

The towel had begun to droop when Marie returned with the bag. It was already at a forty-five degree angle to the floor and appeared, Marie imagined excitedly, ready to drop, giving her a first glimpse of his actual, naked cock.

Blaine rummaged through the bag and, just as that towel began to fall, he found a pair of spandex workout shorts and turned his back to Marie. She got to see his naked buttocks again as the towel tumbled to the floor. Blaine pulled on the shorts so tight they appeared to be a second skin.

The spandex pouch in front still had Blaine's hand in it, adjusting the position of his semi-hard phallus when he turned to face Marie again. Taking his hand from inside his crotch, he continued manipulating his dick from the outside, trying to get things comfortable.

"How does that look?" Blaine asked cupping his crotch and bouncing it up and down a couple of times before letting it go.

"I-It looks great," Marie stammered. "Huge but great." Marie giggled trying to relieve her own tensions.

"Feel it," Blaine commanded. "See if it feels natural."

"I'm not sure how something that colossal should feel," Marie giggled again. 

Blaine's crotch looked as big as a large grapefruit as she reached out and ran her hand around it. He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply as she fondled his cock. Marie squeezed, stroked, pressed, and hefted the mighty black penis that filled her hand and spilled over in every direction. Blaine was pinching and pulling at her nipple. Marie thought she would climax on the spot but Blaine pulled away.

"I need to borrow your car," he told her holding out his hand for her keys.

Every fiber in Marie's being wanted to tell Blaine and whatever slut he was going to see to go fuck themselves. But she didn't, couldn't. Instead, she handed over her keys docilely because she knew the woman on the phone wasn't the only slut, she was too. The difference was woman on the phone had known the satisfaction of Blaine's cock and she hadn't.

"Back in a few," Blaine shouted over his shoulder as he pulled on a tee shirt and sneakers.



Incendiary Circumstances Ch. 11



While Marie had knelt, feeling Blaine's cock through the terry cloth towel covering it, mouthing it in ways she hoped would excite him, causing him to demand she blow him, causing him to grab the knob of hair atop her head, worn as he'd demanded, and directed her mouth up and down his cock, causing him to shoot his seed directly into her mouth rather than all over the walls and floor of the room where she had degraded herself by licking the cock syrup off those block and concrete surfaces, Blaine had made a date!

He'd called someone and Marie listened as he flirted with her while Marie knelt at his feet fondling his cock. It was so incredibly humiliating to be doing everything short of offering him money, something not completely out of the question if the truth be known, to convince the young black man to permit her to fellate him while he picked up another woman on the phone.

What truly perplexed her was that the more she was humiliated, the hotter she got. Marie's debasement stemmed from a reversal of roles. It was true that she was older now. It was true that perhaps the glint was off the gilt that covered her rose. It was true that Blaine was more than three decades younger than she, was a prize specimen stud bull in his sexual prime.

Still, she was the woman; she controlled the access to the pussy. Her entire life men had pursued her, begged favors of her, offered orgasms to her even at the expense of their own at times. Now she found herself in a world where pussy no longer made the rules. Black cock was in charge and Marie found herself acting in embarrassing ways in an attempt to obtain it. 

Blaine would use Marie's car to go fuck another woman while she waited. Marie was so humiliated, so crestfallen, so defeated, she asked to go rather than wait.

"Can you at least give me a ride home?" Marie asked. "Our shift is over."

"Get your stuff. Make it quick," Blaine said as he zipped up his bag. "Oh, would you do me a really big favor?"

Marie's heart leapt. What sort of favor might Blaine want? She felt herself sinking into a depravity where her desire to please him was becoming paramount, even over her own pleasure. Perhaps he'd want her to go along and act as his fluffer should he require encouragement to perform. "Sure," she answered, her body tingling.

"Could you grab my pants and shirt over there. I'm going out tonight and won't have time to wash them. Could you do them for me? I don't want to ask Mom because she thinks I need to do some growing up. You're great, Marie, I owe you one," Blaine said as he dashed off, apparently forgetting his offer to give her a lift home in her own car.

There were so many things wrong with the black youth's demand Marie had difficulty sorting them out. The first was the fact that he was asking her to do something he wouldn't ask of his own parent. Was that what she was, some sort of surrogate mother? That's just fucking sick, Marie thought as she walked over and picked up the clothes Blaine discarded just before his shower. But that was the least of it.

Then there was the part where he was taking her car to meet another woman while she...what? Waited for him? Waited for the other woman's leftovers? Well, that was a given at the moment because she had no transportation home. Still, it just wasn't right. He had been flirting with someone on the phone even as Marie offered her own mouth to his black dick.

Marie had come so very close to seeing the cock she'd been imagining for weeks. It had almost been hers. How many times had she jilled off thinking of it? She couldn't even estimate except to say it was more times than she'd masturbated in the last ten years combined. More times than she'd played with herself plus gotten laid by her husband for an entire decade.

Her phone rang to the tune of "Sexual Healing." It was a special ring tone that Blaine had set up for his calls. "Hello," Marie said breathily as goose bumps began dotting her flesh.

"Hey, it's me," Blaine announced. "I forgot a couple of things. I don't want you touching yourself while I'm away."

"Touch myself? I don't understand," Marie lied. She may have been a bit confused over what was going on but she knew exactly what he meant. It surprised her that he knew he aroused her to the point she played with herself. How long had Blaine known?

"Don't lie," Blaine told her.

"All right," Marie acquiesced. "What else?"

"What else?"

"Yeah, what else? You said a couple of things."

"I want your panties on that desk when I get back." Blaine ended the call before she could protest.

Suddenly Marie wanted nothing more than to finger herself. She wandered around the smallish room to distract herself, tidying up after Blaine and wondering why it excited her so much sexually to behave in ways she would if she were Blaine's servant. She folded the wet towel that lay on the floor and placed it on the desk next to the others, the dry ones. 

She picked up Blaine's shirt and pants one at a time, shook as much filth as she could off them, folded them neatly and placed them on the desk. After another loop around the room and she moved the damp towel to the pile of Blaine's clothes to take home and launder. She also slipped her panties off and put them on the desk next to the clothes.

Forty-five minutes later Blaine returned. He was dressed in the same tight spandex as he was when he left. Marie's gaze went immediately to the bulge and stayed there. It was every bit as big as when he left. He took her immediately into his arms and kissed her deeply. Marie melted as was her custom when in the arms of the powerful young black man, but not before she detected the scent of a woman on him.

"Okay," Blaine said as he broke the kiss, "you're turn."

"What do you mean my turn?"

"Don't be stupid, Marie. It's unbecoming."

"I'm not, as you so eloquently put it, being stupid, Blaine. You've pushed too hard. There are limits to the humiliation a person will endure, even for a cock like yours, and you've overstepped them."

"Really?"

"Yes really. Now take me home."

"It's not that simple, Marie."

"What does that mean, not that simple? Are you planning to rape me?"

Blaine burst out laughing infuriating Marie even further. "Why would I rape you? I don't mean to be blunt Marie but I don't understand why you tell me I've humiliated you then deliberately invite more."

Marie blushed a shade of crimson only a fair-skinned, blue-eyed blonde can achieve. Blaine was right. She'd succeeded in humiliating herself in a way Blaine never had. He'd made her feel desirable and she'd brought that into doubt. He was offering her his cock out of pity. Her embarrassment crushed her and her libido tormented her.

"So you imagine I want you so badly I'd commit a felony to have you?" Blaine asked caustically. "Is that what you think all black men can think of, raping white women? Is that how you think that girl got pregnant?"

"NO! No, Blaine that's not what I think! Don't even think I'm that sort," Marie protested vehemently.

"Because she wanted it even more than I did, Marie," Blaine continued as if Marie hadn't just spoken. "She begged me for it. Do you believe that Marie?"

"I don't know..."

"It doesn't matter what you believe. She'd heard I had a big cock and she wanted it. Everybody at school knew I had a big one and she begged for it. Just like you, Marie. You've been begging for it for weeks."

"I haven't begged for a damn thing."

"Not out loud. Not like she did. But you will."

"I won't Blaine. I told you I don't like humiliation."

"If you don't like it, how come my clothes are folded on that desk right now?  So you can take them home and wash them for me?"

"Who said I was going to do that?"

"Fuck, Marie, after all we've done this summer you can at least be honest with me. Tell the truth. Are you going to wash my clothes or not?"

Marie hesitated but eventually took a deep breath and replied. "Yes. Yes I was going to do that for you. I thought I was doing you a favor."

"Whatever..." Blaine said. "What about these?" he asked, hooking his little finger through a leg hole of her panties and holding them in the air. "Were you doing me a favor with these as well? How is it you were so humiliated while I was out that you took these off for me?"

"Blaine, please," Marie begged, dropping her head in shame. "I can't explain it. I don't know why I took those off."

"Did you play with yourself while I was out?"

"No!"

"Why not? Weren't you excited when you pulled these down? Weren't you excited when you paced the room and glanced over at your panties lying there because that's where I wanted them? Doing that for me in spite of the fact that I was god knows where doing god knows what with god knows who?"

"You said I couldn't."

"Well, do it now."

"W-what?!?"

"Do it now Marie. Finger yourself."

"B-but..."

"Sit on the corner of that desk, lift up your skirt and jack yourself off."

There was something in the tone of Blaine's voice that made Marie know he was serious. There was also her cunt...demanding, always demanding, She did as she was told, retreating to the desk, resting just the cheeks of her ass on the edge. She was looking him in the eye as he did the same to her.

Blaine never looked down as Marie lifted her skirt. It was she whose gaze lowered, whose lidded eyes attached themselves once again to Blaine's obscenely large bulge as her hand slipped between her thighs.

"Is this what you've thought about all summer?" Blaine asked cupping the cock in his tight, spandex shorts. Marie grunted but didn't answer. "This?" Blaine asked again, hooking his thumb into the waistband of his shorts and dragging them down until several inches of his black cock were displayed. "My cock? Is that what you imagined as you fingered yourself each night? Did you think I didn't know? That I was too young to understand the needs of an older white woman like you?

"I knew all right, Marie. I knew what I was doing to you, knew I was driving you crazy with lust. As soon as you told me about Andre I knew you regretted not getting his cock. All that kissing, all that playing with your titties, beating my meat while you watched, watching as you lapped up my cum. Yes, I knew about all of that."

Marie was so embarrassed as she listened to Blaine describe how he'd manipulated her all summer. She was even more embarrassed by the fact that she was sitting on the edge of a desk in a small locker room letting a young black kid watch her finger herself.

But all her embarrassment did nothing to change her behavior. That was controlled by her cunt...and Blaine controlled her cunt. What's more, he knew it. She could do nothing but endure his humiliating statements as she desperately sought the relief of her hand.

Marie stared at Blaine's cock straining against his workout shorts as she shoved three fingers in and out of herself. She watched as Blaine cupped his cock and offered it to her. Except it wasn't an offer; it was a tease, meant to excite her even further. And excite her it did.

"Cum for me," Blaine ordered suddenly, triggering a reaction in Marie that she would remember for the rest of her life.

She came. Immediately. Like Blaine had remote control of her body, like all he needed to do was issue an order with that deep, resonating voice and she would instantaneously comply. She leaned back, lying on the desktop, bucking her hips wildly, pulling up her legs, curling up like some disoriented child.

Her hot juices were coating her hand, making it slicker, allowing her to push farther into her cunt than ever before. Marie added a fourth finger to the team of digits already assaulting her gaping vagina. Pressure built and she felt it happening. 

She was squirting, a stream hitting her hand like someone had trained a hose on her, liquid pouring out of her onto the desk. Her skirt became drenched, the liquid flowing into Blaine's clothes folded and piled next to her. Marie moaned and wasn't sure she would ever stop.

"Would you like your reward?" Blaine asked, finally speaking after Marie's recovery was nearly completed, after she'd opened her eyes sheepishly, unsure of how her audience had reacted to her unbridled demonstration of lust.

"I..." she replied. Even though she'd just cum, she was far from sated.

"Kneel."

For the first time Marie heard the word she'd been longing to hear almost all summer. At first, she wouldn't admit it was a word she wanted to hear. At first, she denied her desires. At first, she ignored the images of another black man that beckoned to her over a gulf of a dozen and more years.

As far back as the first week, Marie had gone home and stroked her pussy as she remembered being in the back seat of that car in the parking lot of some sleazy pick up bar, kissing Andre, letting him feel her up, yearning to be wanted in the absence of a husband who'd taken his passion elsewhere.

She'd wanted Andre so fiercely, so desperately, so wantonly. She wanted him as he pushed her face toward his beautiful cock. She'd wanted him to take her even as she resisted him. She wanted him to chase after her as she ran from what she desired, to force his cock into her mouth, to expel his juice into her belly.

But he didn't chase her and she spent the next decade and a half regretting her rashness, angry at herself for letting his size and color scare her, sad that she'd never enjoyed the excitement physically that she enjoyed mentally when she played the movie of what happened in that backseat over and over in her mind and fingered her twat, except that this time the cock did go into her mouth, the cum did go into her belly, and she did climax again and again.

Marie ran her hands up and down Blaine's thighs as she knelt there awaiting the young black man's instructions. It seemed as if it took all her strength to resist an unknown force that drew her hands toward that magnificent bulge. But Blaine hadn't given her permission to touch it.

Even though he'd gained sexual control over Marie, Blaine couldn't prevent some things even if he'd ordered them. He couldn't prevent the saliva that flowed so freely Marie had to swallow every few seconds to keep from visibly drooling. He couldn't prevent the olfactory sensations caused by his musky maleness or the telltale aroma of another female emanating from that pouch in Blaine's shorts. He couldn't prevent the reaction the sights and smells his "package" caused in the seeping, oozing, bubbling cauldron that served as Marie's cunt those times Blaine wasn't occupying her mind.

And he couldn't tell Marie why. Why she was reacting so wildly to such a debasement. Why something that would have repulsed her to the point of nausea a few short weeks ago now attracted her like nothing before ever had. Why she so ardently desired to fellate this young black kid's cock even though it had so recently, so obviously, been inside another woman, perhaps especially because it had been inside someone else.

"Pull them down," Blaine ordered the blonde-haired, blue-eyed wife kneeling at his feet.

Marie hooked her fingers into the waistband of Blaine's lycra shorts and started to slowly lower them. When the fat root of the enormous tool peeped into view, she slid her hands around to the back, to Blaine's fabulous buttocks, and pulled the stretchy material over them. Marie cupped and squeezed the supple rump muscles as she pulled Blaine closer, burying her face in the comforting, aromatic space between his thigh and scrotum.

She moved her head backwards, allowing her hands to slide beneath the waistband back to the front. Carefully, she peeled the fabric down revealing the beginnings of the plump tube that was Blaine's flaccid cock. Marie could feel the spontaneous tremors that were sweeping over her body like nothing she'd ever experienced before. This kid, this cock was consuming her.

Five black inches shone darkly above the light gray spandex. It was equal to her husband's hard length, and there was much more yet hidden, and it was still only partially erect. Blaine's testicle filled scrotum was bulging to the side, covered by the gray spandex and Marie moved closer to kiss it, breathe in its fragrance, taste its musky flavor. Blaine grabbed her by the hair at her forehead and pushed her back.

"Beg me," he commanded.

"I..." Marie said trying to speak, unable to communicate verbally because of the shudders wracking her body as she considered pleading for something every other male she knew had begged of her. Blaine wasn't like every other man, or even any other man she'd known. Not even Andre had controlled her like Blaine could. And Blaine was still a boy.

"Beg for it, Marie. That's what Amanda did. She could have had any kid in school doing back flips for the privilege of cleaning up her lunch tray at the cafeteria yet she begged to worship my cock. That's what she called it, worshipping."

"Please Blaine, I'm not Amanda."

"No Marie, you're not her but you have the same need. She was sucking me off for an entire year before I knocked her up. Did you know that too? Nobody did. I wasn't even in high school yet and the prettiest girl in town came calling for my cock. Everybody knew I was hung. It was all over school. And she begged for it. Now you beg Marie. You tell me how much you want my cock."

Marie could actually feel herself losing touch with reality; feel her lust pushing everything else aside so that the only two things important to her were Blaine's cock and her desire to satisfy it.

"Please Blaine," she began to beg again, "please let me pleasure your cock. Let me do what you let her do. A whole year of sucking your dick and swallowing your cum? I don't think I could do it and remain sane. That's what thinking about your cock has done to me. I go home every afternoon and paw at my pussy because of what you did to me. I can't stop playing with myself, Blaine. Please honey, don't be cruel. You've made your point. Let me serve your cock with my mouth.

Marie was shocked to hear herself beg this black kid to let her suck him off. Even more, she was puzzled again at how humiliation could excite her. She leaned forward and began kissing the base of Blaine's big dick, little puckered kisses, then opening her mouth and letting her lips mold themselves to the soft shaft. Her tongue came out and licked the tender skin. She pushed her face closer and let her tongue slither down the side of his scrotum, moaning as she went.

Marie pulled her face away and hooked her fingers in the waistband of Blaine's shorts again. It just wasn't the same with the head of the cock hidden away, that lovely slit protected from her eager mouth, unable to pour its liquid payload into her throat. She looked up at the handsome black face looming above her. "Please Blaine, please. I have to satisfy it. I must make it cum." He nodded.

Just when the ache of her humiliations seemed at their peak, just when she didn't think her excitement could be any greater, something so unexpectedly debasing happened that Marie experienced her own set of incendiary circumstances and for the next twenty minutes she performed things more hideously kinky than she could have ever imagined previously...and that performance led to the most beautiful, most powerful and delicious orgasms of her life, all of them totally spontaneous, engineered entirely by her mind.