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A Cuckold, Two Blondes, and BBC

By: geronimo_appleby



Okay, a word of warning from the off -- if you're going to be offended by a white cuck husband whose wife gives herself to a group of black men, don't read this piece. If a scene that features black men impregnating white women turns you into a seething ball of outrage, don't read this piece. If you're going to get all snarled up with hate at descriptions of a white man cleaning a black man's semen from a white woman's pussy ... don't read this piece.

I wonder how many vitriolic public comments will still appear at the end of this scene when it's up on Lit -- even after the above paragraph.

Right, down to it. In this piece David and Emma get sucked in to a scene they didn't envisage. They plan a meet with a black man in a hotel in London thinking it's just going to be some threeway fun. But two men turn up instead of just one. They take charge, pushing the husband out of the proceedings, and after that the wife goes back for more.

I think I've given away quite a bit of what's contained in this scene already -- if you read this preamble from the beginning -- so I'll STFU and let you get on with it.

Although, on a parting note, feedback is appreciated and, since I self-edit, etc., please forgive any howling errors that probably remain in the text.

GA -- Benissa, Spain -- 10th November 2013.

Prologue

Emma Sykes gave him the opportunity to change his mind. It was almost too late, but her husband could still call it off if he wanted. It had been his idea after all. David Sykes had driven it from the beginning, with Emma agreeing only after careful and very serious deliberation and, having eventually reached her decision, wasn't going to give her husband any cause for blaming her for the project's curtailment. If anyone was going to pull the plug, it would have to be him.

"You're sure?" asked Emma. "Absolutely certain? Once it's done we can never undo it."

"I know that," David snapped. "I thought we'd been over all this before. I thought we'd both agreed."

"As long are you're sure."

They were at the hotel, the Premier Inn within spitting distance of Tower Bridge, had travelled down by train earlier in the day. Travelling by rail had two advantages -- no problems with traffic or parking, and they could drink. By the time the phone call came through, eagerly anticipated and dreaded in equal measure, both David and Emma were feeling the buzz of Dutch courage.

Emma, thirty-five, honey-blonde hair tied in a ponytail, high-heels on her feet, wearing stockings, garter belt and a gossamer chemise, with her legs straight out in front of her on the big bed, her back against two plumped up pillows, sighed. Anticipation coiled inside her. She was nervous, and more than a little frightened sitting there waiting. She felt like a sacrifice, wondering how she had let her husband talk her into it.

David, thirty-six, short brown hair, with an unremarkable face, the kind of man that went unnoticed in a crowd, stared at his wife for a couple of beats. Then he swallowed, his eyes sliding away from her face. 

To Emma it seemed he was considering the question, seriously considering it as if suddenly confronted with cold reality he had a change of heart and didn't want to see her do it.

Then he surprised Emma by saying, "I'm sure."

Emma heard the croak in her husband's voice and offered him one final chance. "Once it's done..." she said.

David chewed his lip while the bald fact of Emma's statement hung in the air. He sat in the utilitarian chair, its purple upholstery the trademark colour of the hotel chain. He looked at his wife, looked her right in the eye. "I know," he murmured.

David couldn't tell his wife was a seething ball of anxiety, Emma kept it all inside. All David saw was her shrug, as though she didn't care either way. He took Emma's ambivalence as a good sign.

They both jumped, startled by the ringing mobile phone, the accompanying vibration in synch with the ring tone causing the device to jump and skitter across the shelf attached to the panel around the bedhead.

Husband and wife stared at each other while the moment stretched. Time passed, elastic and unreal.

"All right," Emma said, eventually. "So answer it."

A pause and then David heaved himself out of the chair.

"Remember," added Emma as he rose, "you wanted this."

One -- The Cuckold

Because all the doors leading from reception were locked, requiring a key card for access, David went down to meet the visitor.

Emma was surprised when her husband returned. She had expected one man to be with David, but there were two of them. Her tummy flipped with dreadful anxiety when they walked in. It was like Christmas and a trip to the dentist in one go. A heavy sinker dropped into the pit of her stomach. The moment was upon her. Shocked, Emma sat rigid on the bed when the first one appeared.

He walked in, confident, smiling, predatory eyes going straight to her.

Emma gaped back at him, eyes round as she dimly registered some detail.

The first man was somewhere in his forties, tall, obviously well-built, latent power apparent even through his clothes. Emma had a vague impression of close-cropped hair against a skull shaped like a cannonball, white teeth glinting in his smirk. He was good-looking she saw, the overall effect attractive in a dangerous way. The man was a bad boy, with all the charm and charisma of his ilk. Emma felt the pull between her legs, shifting her rump against the mattress in an unconscious attempt to scratch the itch that tickled her inside.

The second man, much younger, taller and slimmer than the first, stepped to one side when the first man halted. He wore his hair long, dangling dreadlocks framing a lean face. Emma had time to record an impression that the second man was more serious than his friend, decent-looking but not as charismatic, before her attention was claimed by the click of the door closing behind her husband.

Emma felt the men's eyes on her as she looked at David. It was plain enough to see he was out of his depth. To her it seemed the men's presence filled the room. They were so intimidating, their looming appraisal menacing. She returned her stare to them for a second or two before her eyes slid back beyond them to her husband.

David stared back at her, his eyes confirming Emma's estimation of the situation.

Then the first man spoke. "Nice," he said, his age and experience making him the natural leader. He stroked his chin, his eyes crawling over Emma's body. "Very nice," he added.

On the bed, Emma shivered. Her skin prickled when the weight of the man's stare brought goose-pimples out on her arms.

The man turned to face David. "You staying?" he asked.

David's head moved quickly. He nodded, and Emma saw him frown. She could tell her husband was puzzled. She had seen the email exchanges and realised her husband was wondering about the presence of the second man. There had been an arrangement, plans for a meeting in the hotel and a threesome. It was obvious to Emma her husband had been thrown by the additional body and the man's question.

"Yes," David replied. "That's what we said--"

The man turned away, disregarding David immediately, dismissing him from the proceedings.

He looked at Emma again, saying, "Stand up, baby. Let's see what we've got. Give us a good look at you."

Emma threw another look at her husband. Would he do something? Was David going to say anything? This really was the last opportunity to call it off. They could still stop it. It wasn't too late, or at least she thought it wasn't too late. The fact there were two men in the room with them gave her some doubt. And they didn't look the sort to just take it. To Emma, the men, especially the bigger one, didn't come across as the type who would shrug and say: Oh, okay, no problem. Changed your mind? Not an issue. We'll see ourselves out.

But David just looked at her, insignificant and half-hidden by the two black men, his mouth working, soundless.

"Come on," the first man cajoled.

Emma recognised the man's accent as generically London, but couldn't place him as south or north of the Thames. He could have come in from Essex or Kent for all she knew.

Then all thoughts of geography and linguistic nuance evaporated when the man gestured at her, long fingers beckoning. "Stand up. We want to see you."

Emma blinked, gulped and then eased her legs off the bed. Then she just stood there, trembling.

"I don't believe I'm doing this," she muttered.

The man grinned. "You're doing it, all right." He nudged an elbow into his friend. His chin jutted towards Emma. "Isn't she, Philip?" he added.

Philip smirked and nodded, dreads swinging in a curtain around his face. He said nothing while the first man craned his neck to regard David behind them.

"Tell her," the man said. "Tell your wife she's really going to do it." His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth. He winked. "Tell her she's gonna suck cock ... Two cocks ... Two black cocks."

Emma's shoes moved. She took tiny little steps, almost dancing on the spot as she squirmed, her thighs rubbing together, heat flaring between her legs. "Oh God," she murmured, eyes going wide.

She was thrilled by the authority in the man's tone, nearly overwhelmed by his complete mastery of the situation. His utter dominance by physical presence and confident demeanour sent a trickle of something inexpressible through Emma. She was drawn by sexual allure, shocked at her own body's response.

It was a defining moment.

The man chuckled and shook his head, his gaze returning to Emma. He clicked his tongue again, tutting while his head moved side-to-side. "Tell her," he said, throwing the repeated instruction over his shoulder to David while keeping his eyes locked on Emma. His voice made it very clear who the alpha male was in the scene, his tone signalling to everyone present just who it was running things. "Tell your wife she's going to be a good girl. Tell her she's going to suck cock. Tell her she's going to suck cock at one end while she gets fucked at the other. Tell her!" he insisted when David didn't respond immediately.

David gulped and stuttered, cowed by the aggression in the man's tone.

"Yuh-you're going to suck cock, Emma." He swallowed again, blinking, heat rising in his face. "You're going to suck cock and get fucked."

Still doing her little dance, somehow resisting the urge to touch herself down below, Emma saw the grin on the man's face. She threw a glance at her husband.

"Oh God," she murmured.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" the first man said. He offered her a fox in the chicken coup smile and tilted his head. "It's what you really want. Black cock." The man chuckled and nodded slowly. "Tell him, Emma. Tell your husband you want to fuck black cock."

Emma sucked a breath in through her nose. Her jaw slackened. It was a strange sensation but she felt a near overwhelming compulsion to agree. Fifteen years of marriage to David had seen one brief affair, and he admitted to the same during a mutually agreed baring of souls, a time they had both agreed to admit their transgressions without blame.

Then another stumble, another one-night-stand, caused by boredom and complacency, probably, had led them to the point where they were experimenting, both looking for ways to mix it up. Emma had seen the dangers of David's suggestion they meet a stranger for casual sex; she'd heard threesomes could go wrong -- strong emotions catching people off-guard. Emma would have preferred a swingers' club, a more level playing field, a fluid environment where they could remain a couple. This was too strong, too much too soon. They should have gone for another woman.

But they were in that hotel.

And there were two of them.

And they were both black, both good-looking.

And the one doing the talking was so dominant, so powerful and persuasive.

All of a sudden, mesmerised by the man's controlling presence, Emma wanted to please him. She wanted to do everything, just as he'd described it.

The man walked towards her and stroked the bare skin of her upper arm. Emma's head turned at the caress; she stared at where his dark fingers contrasted against her flesh.

"Tell him," the man whispered.

His mouth was close to her ear. He was touching her. It was all going to happen just like the man said. Emma's mouth worked, no sound coming out while she shivered and stared at her husband.

It was like she was seeing David for the first time. It felt like her husband was a stranger to her.

The whisper came again -- narcotic, seductive: "Tell him you want to fuck black cock. Tell your husband you want to feel what it's like to get fucked by real men."

"I..." Emma began.

Her legs were shaking; she could feel her skin tingling where the man had touched her.

She tried again, warbling, "I..."

Emma could see David clearly, her attention focussed on her husband's face. He was just standing there, apparently enthralled or horrified, she wasn't sure which. The expression could have been related to either emotion.

To her eyes he seemed weak, ineffectual, and it dawned on Emma in that moment that he couldn't do anything to stop the men from doing what they wanted. They were in control, especially the man doing all the talking.

She felt the pulse between her legs. Emma's nipples tightened and her stomach churned. An insistent throb started up around her clit. Desire trickled out of her.

Then the words came, thick and glutinous and laden with yearning.

"I want to fuck black cock," croaked Emma. "I want to feel what it's like to get fucked by real men." She paused, glancing again at the second man before she turned to the man at her side. "I want to suck your cock," she murmured, unable to look him in the eye, withering under the force of his stare. Emma felt his will. "I want to suck both your cocks," she added, mumbling. "I want both of you to fuck me."

That's what it's all about," the man said. He smirked, voice triumphant. He squeezed Emma's arm, fingers tightening around her bicep. "Lie down, baby," he murmured. "Spread those long legs. Show us your pussy." He chuckled and winked at his friend but spoke to Emma. "Your husband's going to lick you. He's going to get you ready for us. You've got to be wet, baby. Nice and wet so's you can take black cock."

Emma heard the quick sound of a zip being undone. She glanced down and saw the obscene length of the man's cock arcing from the gap in his baggy, low-slung jeans.

"Fuck..." she breathed.

The man chuckled again. "Yeah," he said. "Big, isn't it?"

Emma gulped and nodded, somehow dragging attention to the man's face, her eyes coming up reluctantly from the awful threat of that appendage just hanging there.

"Yes," she murmured, awed.

"Touch it, baby," he replied.

Emma moaned when she felt the weight of that thing. She lifted it and curled her fingers around its root, the length lying along her forearm, the heavy sac full of testicles close to her fingertips.

In her mind, Emma pictured those balls producing pints of jizm.

"Shit," she heard her husband gasp. "Emma..." David breathed. "Please, Emma..."

But by then Emma was caressing the black cock with a forehand grip; her hand moving back and forth along its length while she offered her mouth for a kiss.

David was back in the chair, the seat shiny and well-worn beneath him as he watched black fingers ease his wife's underwear down her legs. He could only stare when Emma clambered onto the bed with enthusiastic haste, her breasts swinging, her body masked only by the thin gossamer chemise.

She was going to do it. Emma, his wife was really going to let both men have her.

And he was going to see it.

A hollow yawn opened in his guts, a heavy, dragging ache of jealous dread mixed with morbid fascination.

It took a second for David to realise the man had spoken to him, was standing there smirking while Emma settled on the bed, her eyes wide, expression expectant.

"Lick her pussy," the man repeated. "Suck your wife's pussy while she sucks our cocks."

David lifted himself out of the chair and began to unbuckle his belt until the man's bark stopped him.

"Keep your clothes on," the man said. He pouted at David, a moue of disapproval as though the white man was a child caught with his hand in the biscuit barrel. "Just get down and kiss her pussy." His face twisted into a sneer. "That's your job," he said. "You get your wife ready for us. We'll do what needs to be done to satisfy her."

"But--" David said, only able to utter that single word before he was abruptly cut-off.

"I don't think you get it," the man said. He tapped the side of his head, the tip of a forefinger against his temple. "Are you thick or something?"

David gulped at the animosity in the man's expression. A spike of fear bit into his chest. His sphincter tightened.

"You," the man continued, "don't get to give any orders. You don't get to have a say."

There was a pause while David blinked and looked gormless.

"You're lucky I'm even letting you even stay here with us," said the man. "I'm doing you a favour. You should think yourself lucky I'm letting you lick her." The man stabbed the same forefinger he'd used to tap the side of his head at David. "I should make you sit there and watch while we turn your wife into a black man's slut ... but I'm in a good mood today."

He turned to Emma and winked before returning his hostile appraisal back to David.

"Your wife's good-looking; she's sexy; I like her. I'm gonna enjoy breaking her in. Thinking about her pink pussy around my cock makes me feel good." He shrugged and finished with, "So I'm being nice. You can get her ready for us. And make the most of it 'cause after we've finished with her, she isn't going to want your little dick again. After you've done the groundwork..." he grinned "...then you're gonna watch her get fucked."

David stared at the man, his mouth opening and closing, his thoughts whirling and tumbling. He looked away for a few seconds, saw his wife on the bed and muttered about why he'd let things go this far before glancing at Philip, his eyes eventually settling back on the first man's face.

"Your choice," the man murmured. "Get on the bed and lick her cunt, or fuck off out of it. Leave if you want but she stays here. With us."

David's throat worked as he swallowed heavily. He took a step towards the bed, threw a final glance at the man and then felt the mattress dip beneath his hands as he climbed aboard. He settled onto his stomach, fully clothed. His wife's sex was there in front of him. David looked up and met Emma's eyes as she stared at him along the front of her body.

"God," David mumbled. "Emma..."

"You wanted it," Emma replied as she rested on her back and supported herself on her elbows, legs wide while her accusing stare confronted him. "You started it. You arranged it."

David flinched at the charge. He couldn't deny any of it. It was the truth.

"I said we should go to a club. It would have been the same for both of us in a club."

"We could still do that," David whined. "It doesn't have to be like this, Emma."

"You prick." Emma's reply shocked her husband. She saw the hurt and surprise in his face. "You think I'm going to pass up the opportunity to play with that huge cock?" Her eyes rolled, incredulous. "I'm wound up for it now, Dave. I'm a bit pissed up and very horny." Emma shook her head. "Oh no," she added. "I'm here now and I'm going to enjoy myself."

"Get to it," the man said, interrupting the exchange as he knelt on the bed close to Emma's head. "Lick her. Give it your best while she sucks our cocks."

David watched while the man touched Emma's head and directed her towards his penis.


A Cuckold, Two Blondes, and BBC



Seeing his wife's tongue snake out to lick the pale bulb of the cock-head was agony. How could she do it after what the man had said? It felt like betrayal.

"Lick her or you're out of here," the man growled. "I'll fucking throw you out myself if you don't fucking get onto it."

Cowed and humiliated, David leaned in to suck Emma's pussy. What choice did he have?

Then, as he joined them all on the bed, as he dipped in towards his wife's pussy, just before he tasted her, David saw Emma turning her head towards Philip's long cock.

"Sit there," the man said. He was pointing to the chair. "It's time for her to get a feel for black cock. You sit there and watch."

David crawled away from his wife's body. He stood up and looked down at her, saw her wide-legged and glazed-eyed. Emma's chin and cheeks were smeared with pre-cum and saliva. Her lip-gloss had gone, completely destroyed from five minutes sucking and slobbering at two cocks. Her hair was a ruin, loose and tangled after both men had pawed at her, grasping handfuls as they pulled her attention back and forth. 

Numbed by the experience, overwhelmed at the speed in which his life had turned upside down, bereft of ideas, David shuffled over to the chair. He couldn't think, unable to comprehend how quickly Emma had succumbed to the man's will. He sat down and watched it all unfold, bore witness to his wife being pleasured by two black men.

"She's wet," David heard the man say. He looked up from where he'd been staring at the pattern on the carpet between his feet. The man was holding up a hand, his fingers shiny with the desire he'd felt between Emma's legs. "She's hot for us," the man added. "You did a good job making her come." He grinned. "But now it's our turn. We're gonna fuck your wife."

Both men clambered off the bed and began to take off their clothes. They were naked in less than thirty seconds.

While the two black men undressed the speaker continued to taunt David.

"I'm going to really enjoy fucking your wife," he said. "And you know she's gonna love it. They all do, you know. White women; they cream up for black cock." He shrugged and pulled a face. "Happens all the time," he added. "White women want a black man's dick. It's the natural way of it, man. They know ... inside..." He patted the left side of his chest and continued with, "In their hearts white women know a black cock is going to do a better job than any white one. They know a black snake will fill them and satisfy them." He lifted his heavy length and showed it to David. "I mean, just look at this fucker." 

David gaped into the man's rueful smirk.

"Your wife's going to love this." 

Then the man paused and nodded thoughtfully.

"She's going to take my cock and you're going to watch. You'll hear her moan ... You're going to hear her beg for us to stop banging her pussy." He pointed a finger at David, his grin behind it. "But you know what? We ain't going to stop. We'll keep on fucking your wife. She's going to beg and plead, but she won't mean it. Not really. She'll really want us to keep on fucking, to just pound her pink cunt. She's gonna come so hard."

"No," David breathed, his knuckles whitening as his fingers gripped the upholstered arms of the chair.

"Yes," the man said. "You sit there and watch it happen."

A groan from his wife took David's attention from the man to the bed. He saw Philip's fingers between Emma's legs. Philip was probing her, busy working at Emma's opening.

"Fuck," Emma gurgled, her teeth clenched, fingers clawing at the sheet beneath her. "That's good. That's nice."

"Here, baby," the first man said, climbing back onto the bed. He threw a look at David, making sure the cuckold showed no sign of rising out of his chair to come at him in anger. "Turn this way."

Emma's head swivelled when the man touched her cheek. "Oh!" she yelped. "Again?"

The man was on the bed, kneeling up. He was holding himself in one hand, offering his cock to her. "Suck it some more," he said, stroking himself slowly. "Let your husband watch this time."

Emma eyed the pale bulb of the cock-head confronting her. "You two are going to ruin me," she mumbled.

In the chair, helpless at the way it was all unravelling, David choked back a sob of protest. All he could do was watch.

During the few minutes that followed, David watched his wife struggle to accommodate another man's cock, the girth of the thing stretching her lips to thin, bloodless lines.

While Emma gommed and slobbered, her neck twisted, legs wide as she offered herself to both men, she grunted and groaned, moaning around the mouthful of meat that threatened to choke her. 

Between her legs Philip worked at Emma, pushing his fingers into her body, curling them so he could rub her inside, his thumb sliding over her clit until, with a thrashing of limbs and cries of obvious delight, Emma came.

"She loves it," the man said. "Your wife fucking loves it." He looked down at Emma who, in the midst of her climax, with her eyes squeezed tight, yanked at his dick with irregular jerks of one fist.

Next, he took control of his length, pushing Emma's fingers away before laughing and slapping his cock against her chin and cheeks. 

"You having fun?" he asked, still directing the taunts at the man in the chair. "You enjoy watching your wife sucking my dick?"

"I ..." David replied. "It's..."

"She enjoys it," the man said. "And I love it when a white lady enjoys sucking my dick."

"Oh God," gasped Emma, her eyes opening wide. She looked around the room, dazed and bleary-eyed until she focussed on her husband. "David..." she breathed. "Fuck ... What have you brought to me?"

The man laughed and stepped off the bed, the weight of his appendage hanging in front of him, arcing in a downward curve under the weight of the bulbous head while Philip, as though at some unseen and unheard signal, rolled away, his job done for the moment. "Come here, Emma," the man crooned. He stroked his length and smirked at the woman, beckoning with his free hand. "Forget him for now, forget that little white dick. You're here now ... With us." He glanced at Philip and his grin widened. "Me and my friend there," he nodded at the younger man, "we'll look after you. You don't need to bother with him at all." The man threw a thumb and a contemptuous look at David. "Not now. Things are gonna get good for you, bitch."

Emma glanced at her husband, and then, while David looked on, his expression conveying all that he felt inside, she slid her bare buttocks off the bed and stood up.

"Take it off, Emma," the man instructed.

At the thrust of the man's chin, Emma realised he meant for her to take off the chemise. She experienced a thrill of delight at the thought of the two black men seeing her bare breasts. She would be naked except for stockings and shoes.

"Do you like me?" she asked, her voice high-pitched and warbling. Would they appreciate her body? Did they like curves and big tits on their women?

"Do we like her, Philip?" the man asked.

"We do, Nathaniel," Philip replied, uttering his first words since his arrival.

Emma had time to register his accent -- heard a Caribbean lilt.

Philip nodded, dreads swinging. "We like her a lot."

Nathaniel grinned and winked and did the clicking thing at the back of his throat again. "We do, don't we," he said -- a statement, not a question. "Come here, baby," he said, coaxing Emma to him with a curl of long, black fingers. He reached for her when the trembling and very unsure white woman arrived in front of him.

Emma heard her husband bleat her name, a forlorn cry she ignored when the black man's hands went around her waist and he drew her into his embrace.

"I'm glad you like me," she whispered as her breasts squashed up against the plated muscle of Nathaniel's chest.

Then she heard her husband groan as Nathaniel's tongue pushed into her mouth.

For David, seeing his wife kissing another man was worse than anything they'd done so far. Emma was writhing and moaning, squirming against Nathaniel's front, her feet moving, dancing as though she desperately needed to pee.

"God," he groaned. "Dear God..."

And then, gripped by morbid fascination, unable to tear his gaze from the stomach-churning sight, David sat there and gazed slack-jawed while Nathaniel lifted Emma, his hands cupped beneath her buttocks while she leapt up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

David heard Philip say: "Watch them. She's going to take his cock now.

Maintaining his balance, feet splayed, holding the woman aloft with one arm curled around Emma's body, Nathaniel somehow contrived to hold his cock in his free hand, guiding the head of the thing to her scarlet opening.

The sight of his wife's pouting labia, the opening of her sex glistening with her obvious desire, the cock-head nudging at her, caused David to groan.

The scene unfolding in front of him was meant to be different. He was supposed to be included, not dominated by Nathaniel and banished to a corner, a mere witness. He was meant to be an equal participant, sharing his wife with another man. There had been an agreement, a verbal arrangement via email and phone.

There were also supposed to be condoms. David had them in his pocket.

But what use were they there?

"No," he muttered, his fingers pushing through his hair. "Oh fuck ... Emma..."

Then it was too late, there was no way to call it off. Not that the two black men would have taken any notice at all, but it really had gone too far when Emma groaned, her head lolling back as she clung like a monkey, arms around Nathaniel's neck, her cunt accepting the thick, chocolate-coloured length inch by slow inch.

"Shit..." Emma gurgled as Nathaniel eased into her. "That thing's stretching me open." She gulped and squirmed against the man holding her. "It's still going," she gasped, her eyes staring into her lover's. "It's so bloody lovely." Emma blinked and gulped. "Kiss me," she murmured. "Please, kiss me, fuck me ... Give me all of your gorgeous cock. Fuck me, kiss me..." 

Philip moved to the couple as they kissed. He touched Emma's face and, after the woman broke away from Nathaniel and looked at him, kissed Emma, too.

Emma risked releasing her grip on Nathaniel's neck with one hand so she could reach down and clasp Philip's cock.

"Two of you," she breathed. "Two men ... Two beautiful black men."

She glanced down and watched her own hand move up and down Philip's length, her fingers caressing and squeezing while she kissed both men in turn. Emma sucked Philip's tongue before taking Nathaniel's into her mouth. She turned back and forth, dividing her attention between the pair while David continued to boggle.

Despite the jealousy burning in his guts, regardless of the fact his wife -- his wife -- was being used by two men, one of whom had his cock wedged inside her body, his skin against hers as they fucked bareback, David experienced the undeniable stirrings of lust. He pawed at himself, massaging his dick through his trousers while his wife allowed herself to be kissed by Philip, her hand cranking his hard-on while Nathaniel bounced her on his cock.

While the other three were busy, oblivious to his presence, David unzipped his flies and eased his stiff penis from within. By that time Emma was moaning and gasping, and Nathaniel was muttering low-voiced exhortations while Philip danced around them, his hands moving over Emma's skin.

David stroked himself, wanking slowly, eyes fixed on the action. He was fascinated by his wife's facial expression, with Emma's features sometimes twisted into a grimace of exquisite agony while at other times she had that slack-jawed, idiotic look of a woman sexually deranged.

David was entranced. He thought he'd never seen his wife look so beautiful.

He was so engrossed that he jumped, startled when Nathaniel spoke to him.

"You're getting into it," Nathaniel said, laughing. "You've accepted your wife really loves black dick, eh?" Nathaniel carried Emma across the room with his fingers cupped under the cheeks of her backside, his meat firmly wedged inside her body.

He stopped a foot away from the chair and effortlessly hefted Emma's weight in his hands. Shifting his grip, fingers spreading flesh slick with lust, Nathaniel taunted David with the image of Emma's body being invaded by the thick, dark monstrosity.

David gasped and stared, his fist stalled mid-stroke when he confronted the sight of his wife's pussy stretched tight, the flesh bloodless while she accommodated the dark length and tremendous girth of Nathaniel's naked cock.

"Shit," David moaned. He gulped and gazed at the dark smudge of Emma's sphincter exposed twelve inches from his face. He just sat there and gawped up at that awful conjunction.

"She's mine, now," Nathaniel murmured. He eased Emma higher on his cock, revealing several inches of an erection glistening with Emma's yearning. "You think you'll ever be man enough to satisfy her after she's been fucked by this big cock?"

David said nothing, simply gazed at the contrast of Emma's white skin and pink flesh compared to the dark, goo-smeared root of Nathaniel's cock.

Then, suddenly, while an emotional whirlwind ripped through his guts, David experienced a sudden flare of anger. He was jealous, so jealous of the man who, with apparently effortless ease, had usurped his position in his wife's affections. David saw himself punching Nathaniel in the throat, felt a near overwhelming urge to stand up and start hitting.

But Nathaniel was so big, so fit and muscular and solid that, despite his age, there was little doubt he would easily turn the tables on David. Plus there was Philip to consider. Two of them together? David had to accept he hadn't a chance.

Then he heard his wife murmur: "Don't stop fucking me."

David's stomach flipped again. This time, rather than feeling a surge of rage, David felt a hollow ache open up inside him, a rent in his psyche that released some indefinable sentiment he'd never experienced before. The jealousy remained, still bubbled, a curdled mess that had somehow been diluted by a deeper, more powerful emotion. He was surprised to realise he was stroking his cock once again.

"Go on," he muttered. 

The words just came out of him, unbidden. David hadn't meant to say anything, it had just popped out.

"I want to watch," David added, sighing.

It was true. He wanted to watch it, wanted to see his wife with the two men.

"Fuck her," he bleated. "Please ... Fuck my wife."

"Yeah," Nathaniel responded, grinning. "You too, eh? You finally get it? We're gonna own this white bitch." 

Nathaniel carried Emma to the bed and dumped her onto it. His cock waggled and swung while Emma bounced on the mattress in an ungainly sprawl of limbs.

"Open your legs," Nathaniel ordered. He pointed at Emma, his finger moving side-to-side. "Come on. Open them." 

Nathaniel stroked his length while Emma eagerly positioned herself.

"Oh God," Emma squealed. She was rubbing herself, one hand mauling her breasts while she squirmed on the bed. "Put it in. Please, put it back in." She held herself wide open and stared at her lover with an intensity that caused a shiver of dark lust to ripple through David.

"You're going to be fun," Nathaniel said. He chuckled and looked at Philip as they both clambered onto the bed. "She's gonna be fun, eh, Philip?"

Philip had his cock in his fist, his eyes fixed on Emma's face. It was obvious he wanted Emma to suck him while Nathaniel used her pussy.

"I don't believe how quickly she turned, Nathaniel," Philip said. He glanced at David before thrusting his hips towards Emma. Philip leaned over the woman, resting on straight arms, his torso curled over her. "Both of them," he added. "They were both so easy."

Nathaniel shrugged. He was between Emma's legs, one hand working his penis while the other rested lazily on one of Emma's knees. He shifted position to hover over her, his hand going from her leg to the bed in support while he nudged the dome of his cock at her opening.

"Let's fuck this white bitch," Nathaniel muttered.

He thrust and Emma gasped, her eyes going wide.

Philip chuckled and shook his head as though he was puzzled by how a man could simply sit there and allow two strangers to use his wife. Then Emma's mouth closed around him and he sighed.

"Emma," David breathed. "Dear God ... Emma..."

Nathaniel started with slow, deep, probing thrusts. He pushed in and paused, corkscrewing his hips, stirring Emma with his size. He was rewarded by gasps of delight and long, low-voiced groans.

"Oh, fuck," Emma sighed. She stared up at her lover, her fingers tight around the bulge of Nathaniel's upper arms. "That's good. It's fucking gorgeous. I've never had a man so deep." She yelped with delight when Nathaniel began to move with more urgency, the sound cut short as he leaned in low to kiss Emma's mouth.

David watched, staring, jaw hanging while he wanked his cock, gaze locked on the lewd tableau.

Emma broke away from the kiss, panting as she turned and reached for Philip's cock. She sucked and slurped and licked at the man while Nathaniel fucked her with robust thrusts.

"I love it," Emma panted between licks at Philip's shaft. "Two men ... Two cocks ... Big black cocks."

She collapsed backwards gasping when Nathaniel pulled her by the waist, positioning Emma to his liking. Nathaniel lifted her hips, tilting her cunt to accommodate the deep downthrust as he hooked her knees behind his arms.

"Both of you," Emma gulped when she recovered from a fit of moaning and groaning as a result of Nathaniel's deep penetration. With the power of coherent speech returned, Emma grabbed Philip's cock. "At both ends," she mumbled. "Fuck me, boys. Use me at both ends."

Philip took a turn, his taut stomach slap-slapping against Emma's skin as he fucked into her from behind. He held onto Emma's waist, the garter belt twisted in one hand while she thrust back at him, her hips rippling with the force of their rutting.

Kneeling, his cock in one fist, Nathaniel held Emma's head and force-fed her his length.

Emma gagged and spluttered, eyes streaming as she took as much of that thing as she could manage, pulling away from time to time, slimy drool sliding over her chin, dangling and shivering in long, silvery ropes as she gasped for breath.

"It's too much," gasped Emma, her torso heaving as she coughed and spat. She shook a hand, fingers fanned in a gesture of refusal. Emma tilted her face to Nathaniel, her eyes wet with tears forced out of her by her gag reflex kicking in. Her throat worked as she swallowed repeatedly. "I can't take all of it," she croaked.

Nathaniel laughed and stroked Emma's blonde hair while Philip continued to thrust at Emma from behind.

"Training," he said. "That's all it takes. A little more each time ... A few weeks and you'd be deep-throating black cock, no problem."

The idea thrilled Emma. She wanted to please this domineering black man. Emma wanted to prove herself to him.

But David, still sitting in the chair, his fist jacking at his cock, wasn't too sure. As far as he was concerned the scene he found himself in was a one-off. There would be no repeat performance, he decided. He wouldn't allow his wife to go off the rails again. She could do it this once. David would swallow a single occasion but there was no way he was ever going to compromise himself or his marriage again.

Then all thoughts left David's head when his wife's head ducked once again, her mouth opening. He had to admit, seeing Emma being used in that way was a turn-on. Not that he'd voice it -- never, no way, she might think he enjoyed being humiliated! But David settled and stroked his cock and decided to make the most of that afternoon in the hotel.




A Cuckold, Two Blondes, and BBC



"I wanna fuck you again," Nathaniel groaned. "Take some time to suck Philip's cock," he muttered. "Taste your cunt on him."

Emma gasped and spluttered when Nathaniel eased his length from her gullet. She reached for it and worked her fist along the glistening shaft, reluctant to let it go.

"He's doing a good job back there," she mumbled, eyes like slits as she licked the big dome of the cock-head. "It feels good, him in my pussy ... Why do we have to change?"

Emma glanced back over a shoulder, squirming around, breasts swaying as she craned her neck and grinned at Philip.

"'Cause I'm gonna come soon," grunted Nathaniel. "And I want to let it go inside you."

The thought of his wife taking the man's semen inside her body made David groan. That was too much. Nathaniel was already bareback inside his wife -- why did he have to compound the humiliation David felt by coming in Emma's pussy?

"No," he mumbled. "Please, Emma, don't let him do it."

But, despite his protest, David still yanked at his cock. He sat in the chair and wanked, staring at the bed while Philip's cock, smeared with foamy residue -- testament to Emma's ardour -- slid out of her.

Desperate for the sensation of a being filled to the brim with cock to continue, Emma rolled onto her back. She opened her legs and snarled at Nathaniel to climb aboard.

The man went to her, quickly easing himself into position before his cock slid into Emma's body.

They were soon rutting, both Emma and Nathaniel grunting and moaning, obscene squelches coming from their conjunction -- white woman's pussy tightly packed with black cock -- while Philip offered Emma his length to suck.

"Yeah," Nathaniel grunted, thrusting deep. "Fuck," he groaned, thrusting again.

"I'm coming," Emma squealed when Nathaniel pushed deep into her for a third, and then a fourth, time. "You're coming, too!" she wailed. "I can feel your cock throbbing."

Nathaniel groaned and held himself above Emma's torso as he pushed as deep as he could into her, jizm spurting out of him to flood the woman's insides.

As soon as Nathaniel's cock ceased spitting he eased it out of the woman, Philip replacing him immediately.

A minute of frantic fucking, loud, wet slurps of displaced semen, while Emma mumbled and groaned and squirmed, her climax rolling on and blurring into another. Philip gave a mighty groan and, with Nathaniel's gloop dribbling down the crease between Emma's buttocks, shuddered and came, his semen pouring out of him to mix with the deposit already inside Emma.

"Fuck," David grunted when Philip rolled away from Emma. He could see semen glistening at his wife's opening, her cunt all scarlet and shiny with spunk. "Oh fuck ... Emma ... They came inside you..."

Jizm spat from the eye of David's cock. He tugged at himself, moaning and gasping, his eyes locked on the viscous ooze that dribbled from his wife's gaping opening while his own semen sprayed over his clothes.

Through it all Emma writhed on the bed, her fingers mushing around her vulva, rubbing her clitoris as she came for a third time.

Less than two minutes later, without cleaning themselves at all, their cocks sticky with semen and Emma's juices, the smell of sex clinging to them, Nathaniel and Philip left the room without a backward glance.

"Oh God, Emma..." David breathed. He was still in the chair, too shocked too move. "What have you done? They both fucked you without a condom. They both came. I can't believe you let two strangers do that." David's tone was incredulous, face slack with disbelief now the heat of the moment had passed.

His wife lay there, still breathing hard, her legs wide, pussy leaking cum.

She reached down between her legs and felt her vulva all slippery with her arousal and two copious deposits of jizm.

"You wanted it," Emma mumbled. "I told you to remember that. This is all your fault. You brought this on."

Two -- A Queen of Spades Tattoo

From the upstairs window of the house, the bedroom she shared with David, Emma looked down on to the street below. To her eye it was the usual suburban scene: a well-to-do cul-de-sac in the Home Counties; middle-class; three- and four-bedroom homes, some semi- some fully detached, all with garages. Emma stood there deep in thought, struggling to reconcile the stultifying parochial setting with who she had become. She looked around at her neighbours' homes and wondered if any of them had behaved the same way she had.

It had been a month since the episode in the Premier Inn near Tower Bridge, four weeks and a bit since she'd given herself to the forceful, dynamic black man. She hadn't allowed David near her in the time since. The experience had altered her.

Emma was dressed ready to go. Had been for an hour.

David had left for work at the usual time of half-past-six. If anyone had seen him they wouldn't recognise any difference in him at all. Outwardly they were the same couple, no sign of the change between them. He set off in the Audi at the same time every weekday morning, returned home a few minutes before six in the evening. They did the same run to Asda and Sainsbury's on Thursdays night. Emma spent Tuesday and Friday afternoons as usual, volunteering in the Age UK charity shop in the precinct. The weekend just past they had visited Emma's mother in Derbyshire. There were evenings in the pub, quiz nights; a meal in the Indian restaurant. Nobody would guess from the way they behaved that the relationship between Emma and David was fundamentally changed.

At the window Emma sighed and considered lighting a cigarette, then decided against it -- Nathaniel didn't approve. She squirmed with anticipation, eager to see him, to hear his voice and smell his unique scent -- the simple maleness of him. But Emma was also dubious about the day ahead, still harboured misgivings at what she was doing.

Then she saw the car and everything was suddenly all right.

Philip drove south. Emma sat beside him in the big silver Mercedes as they made their way down the A1. At South Mimms Philip took the slip road on to the M25. They moved east from the approximate twelve o'clock position of the orbital motorway, using the road only as far as the M11 junction at roughly one o'clock. There they continued south until the motorway seemed to peter out, the signs showing place names that Emma was oddly familiar with but which she had never before visited. At a roundabout choked with traffic, a petrol station to the left, Philip eased the car across several lanes, drifting across as they followed the roundabout's curve, amid the chaos. Philip took a line leading to the A12 towards East London. Emma recognised the pyramid top of Canary Wharf, the light blinking at the pointed apex in the distance as, with a jolt of surprise, she realised that it was the Olympic site sliding by on her left. She was in Stratford -- run down despite the extensive construction project of the 2012 games, a busy, anonymous concrete jungle where, beyond the tinted safety of the Mercedes windows, red double-decker buses belched diesel fumes and people avoided eye contact.

"Is this it?" asked Emma when Philip pulled over to the kerb. They were in a quiet street, a blank-faced, much-tagged block of crumbling maisonettes in front of the car.

Emma wasn't impressed. This wasn't what she was used to. She didn't like the look of patchy grass, cracked pavement with weeds sprouting up everywhere, wheelie-bins on their sides, graffiti emblazoned walls and a palpable air of menace. To her it felt like a setting for some gritty police drama on television -- drug dealers, prostitutes and violence.

"Yeah," Philip drawled. "This is the place."

Emma hesitated when Philip climbed out of the car, reluctant to leave the security of her cocoon. She wondered what the hell she had let herself in for.

But, with some trepidation, following an impatient hand gesture from Philip, she got out and stood there, eyes wide as she tried to look everywhere at once.

"Aren't you going to lock the car?" Emma asked as Philip sauntered away towards one of the blocks.

"No need for that," Philip replied. "Nobody round here will bother. They know who we are."

Emma glanced at the car and then looked around once more, took in the seediness of her surroundings and decided she didn't want to know the reason for Philip's confidence regarding the safety and security of what had to be sixty thousand pounds worth of German engineering in such a place. She turned her attention to Philip just in time to see him disappear through a doorway.

"Wait," Emma called, hurrying in Philip's wake.

A slim, very pretty woman with straight hair in platinum-blonde bob that fell to the line of her jaw opened a door at Philip's knock.

"Hiya," she said, trilling a greeting as bright as her smile. "You must be Emma, I'm Tia ... It's good to meet you."

Emma blinked, stunned by this jewel in a dung heap. She took in the spaghetti strapped crop-top, flat midriff with a glint of jewellery at the navel, and a denim skirt which was little more than a belt. Surprised, Emma dimly registered the woman to be slightly younger than herself -- late twenties, early thirties she estimated.

She shook Tia's proffered hand in an automatic gesture before the blonde stepped back and invited her and Philip across the threshold.

"Come in," Tia offered, turning away to walk into the house.

Emma found herself standing there, Philip waiting behind, waiting as Emma gawped at the woman's long legs, pert, round buttocks and swaying hips.

"Come on in!" Tia called, spurring Emma into movement.

Emma stepped inside. Philip followed and shut the door behind him.

Emma looked around, stunned by the contrast. The inside of the flat was impressive: walls painted in pastel shades, modern furniture in the living room, a huge television -- one of the biggest Emma had ever seen -- mounted on a bracket, surround sound speakers, a BOSE music system. Someone had spent money on the place.

Nathaniel lounged on a low two-seater sofa. He grinned up at Emma. "Welcome," he said, gesturing with wide arms as though inviting Emma to comment on the décor.

"I thought we'd be at a hotel," Emma said. "Like the other times."

Nathaniel shrugged. "This place is better," he said. "More private than a hotel. I wanna move your education along a little."

Emma blinked. "What do you mean?" she asked. 

The flat wasn't what she had expected. On the two occasions she and Nathaniel and Philip had met since their first encounter, they had done so at a Premier Inn near Stevenage. Emma had been unable to resist the temptation of illicit, incredible sex with two black men and had continued the affair, making contact -- as Nathaniel had somehow known she would -- via the email address on the shared computer at home.

So why were they in this house? What was Tia doing there?

Nathaniel smirked and winked. "You'll see," he replied in response to Emma's question. "All in good time. We got things cooking today."

Emma shivered, a delicious thrill of fear and anticipation tickling her spine with feathery fingers. Her stomach flipped. She could feel, despite her misgivings and the strangeness of her surroundings, a dribble of arousal siping from her. She felt safe with Nathaniel and Philip, trusted them. Regardless of their menacing demeanour Emma sensed that she was safe with the two men. All she had to do was play the game.

"You met Tia." Nathaniel said.

Emma nodded. "Yes."

"You like her? You think she's pretty?"

A shrug from Emma. "I suppose," she said, putting on a front despite the slow realisation of where Nathaniel was leading.

"You wanna watch her suck Philip's cock?"

Emma gave a gasp at the casual lewdness of Nathaniel's suggestion. Lust, already simmering, bubbled like hot milk on a stove. The thought of Philip's long, dark cock in the platinum blonde's mouth made Emma squirm.

"She's dirty," Nathaniel added. He chuckled and shook his head. "She's a very pretty girl, an angel to look at..." He paused and grinned at Tia as she walked toward him at his signal. "But the mouth on her..." Nathaniel rolled his eyes, his hand sliding along Tia's leg, up towards the hem of her very brief skirt. "She's noisy. Mouthy. Likes to tell everyone what she wants and how good it is when she gets it. Don't you, Tia?" Nathaniel looked up at the woman as his hand went higher.

"I can't help it," Tia replied. "Black cock makes me so fucking horny..."

Distracted as she was, desire clenching a fist in her guts, her pussy oiling, Emma had a vague sense of Tia's accent. She recognised something regional, an accent from one of the old soaps on television. Definitely North of England, most likely Liverpool, she decided as Tia continued.

"...I love sucking black cock. I love it when you boys fuck me." She smirked and eyed Emma, her expression a challenge. The look was a dare. Tia was testing the newcomer.

"So go and suck Philip's dick," Nathaniel said to Tia. He waved a hand dismissively, fingers flicking towards Philip.

"C'mon, Phil," Tia said. She threw a final glance at Emma. "Get it out. Let's put on a bit of a show for our guest."

When Emma felt something touch her fingers she glanced down. Nathaniel's hand had touched hers.

"Sit down next to me," he said, patting the leather seat next to him. "Come on. Sit down. Let's watch."

Emma sat, back upright, knees together, unnerved by the situation. She didn't know how she felt about sharing the men with another woman. Emma was most definitely jealous.

She heard Nathaniel chuckle as she stared at the couple in the centre of the room.

"Relax," Nathaniel crooned.

Emma jumped at the touch of his hand on her leg.

"Watch and learn," he added.

"Don't you like it?" Tia asked Emma as she knelt in front of Philip and unzipped the fly of his jeans. She hauled forth the long dark length and stroked it, her eyes on Emma. "I fucking love it." Tia's hand worked slowly. "I fucking love black cock. They're so fucking big!"

Emma sucked a breath in through her nose when Tia's tongue flicked over the head of Philip's cock.

The man groaned and Tia giggled.

"I mean, just look at this big fucker." Tia's used both hands against the chocolate length. Then she held it still and popped her lips around the pale dome. Her cheeks dipped inwards, concave as she sucked.

Emma sighed and squirmed, heat flaring between her legs. "Oh God," she moaned, captivated by what she saw. It was her own live sex show, and she liked it.

Nathaniel lifted his buttocks from the seat and, arched awkwardly, hips thrust up while he yanked the loose Adidas tracksuit bottoms to his thighs.

Emma glanced at Nathaniel's cock and automatically leaned in close, her fingers closing around the girth of that appendage as she continued to stare at Tia and Philip.

"Yeah," groaned Nathaniel, "stroke my dick. Watch that bitch suck."

"Kiss me," Emma sighed. She offered her mouth to her lover, one hand caressing him while she wriggled about and hauled her underwear down with her free hand. She yanked the hem of her skirt up with an impatient grunt, sliding a finger between her labia as she sucked at Nathaniel's tongue.

"Look at you," Tia giggled. "It didn't take you long to get in the party mood."

Emma broke away and looked up at Tia, on her feet by that time, the blonde standing there with a hand on one hip, head canted towards her shoulder. Philip was next to Tia, one of her hands jacking his cock.

"Can I lick your pussy?" asked Tia, her eyes slits.

And, before Emma could answer, as Philip ragged himself out of his clothes, while Nathaniel chuckled, the blonde dropped to her knees and eased Emma's legs apart.

Caught by surprise -- this was a first for her -- but with her libido revving, Emma gulped and stared down to where Tia's fingers held her wide open.

"Get behind me, Phil," said Tia, her voice thick and dark. "Fuck me doggy. Fuck me with that big fucking cock while I lick pussy."

Sprawled across the sofa, her torso laid across Nathaniel, his cock in her immobile fist, Emma groaned and let Tia have her.

The blonde's tongue slid through Emma's slit from anus to clitoris, flicking over the taut nub while she slid the tip of her forefinger around the opening to Emma's body.

"Oh fuck," Emma heard Tia grunt, and when she looked down across Tia's back she saw Philip kneeling there, fingers digging into the blonde's hips.

It was obvious from the look on Philip's face and the long, low groan coming out of Tia that Philip was easing his length into her body. At the sight and sound of two people fucking Emma experienced a sudden desperate urge to have her own pussy filled with dark meat.

"This is wonderful," Emma mumbled. She dragged her eyes from Tia's face down between her legs and, swivelling her gaze, stared up at Nathaniel. "I can't believe this is happening," she breathed.

"This is just the beginning," Nathaniel replied. "We got all day for it." His fingers touched Emma's chin as he leaned in to kiss her mouth. In the second before their lips touched, a moment or two prior to Nathaniel's tongue invaded her mouth, while Tia lapped at Emma's clit and fingered her opening, with Philip grunting and thrusting, Nathaniel added, "And there's more to come. In a little while ... There's a surprise coming for you."

Tia's face was tilted towards the ceiling, her eyes squeezed closed. Her mouth hung open as she groaned her pleasure, Philip behind her, his own head rolling.

Emma was rubbing herself by that time, a climax bubbling as she stared at Tia's twisted features.

"You're going to come?" breathed Emma.

Tia's eyes opened at the question. She blinked, bleary eyes focussing all of a sudden.

"Yeah," the woman groaned. "I'm gonna come. I'm so fucking horny."

Somehow, during their brief joining, while Philip thrust and probed at Tia's body, the blonde's skimpy tank-top had slipped. Emma saw Tia's fake tits that, despite being manufactured, swung and wobbled like the real thing. They were full and round, slightly oversized in relation to the girl's slight frame, an effect that caught the eye and made men salivate. Pink nipples stuck up from tight coins of their areola, the teats an obvious indicator of Tia's arousal.

"You're gorgeous," Emma mumbled. "So lovely."

"Told you," Nathaniel said, with his arm around Emma's shoulder. His thick cock lay across his abdomen, neglected by Emma as she watched in awe, her own desire hot and bubbling between her legs. "Tia's an angel to look at but she's a nasty bitch when she lets it go. You'll see what I mean later."

The question was on Emma's lips, on the cusp of being voiced. What did Nathaniel mean -- Later? And what surprise did he have in mind?

But Emma was distracted by a loud shout from Philip. She forgot all about asking Nathaniel to clarify his meaning when, with another grunt from Philip and a yelp of appreciation from Tia, the black man pulled away from the blonde's body.

"On my arse!" Tia shouted. She twisted around, her tight waist creasing, her breasts rising as she looked back over one shoulder. "Come on my arse."

Philip yanked at his cock, pulling it while the breath hissed out of him, his face a clench-teethed mask of intent.

Suddenly, with another yell, as his body tensed, muscles locking with the effort, viscous goo flicked out of his cock. The stuff arced high, a steep-angled parabola of jizm that, after hanging for half a second in the air at its apogee, then spattered down onto Tia's skin. Just as that first jet landed another spurt squirted high, Philip's yanking fist altering its course so the gloop landed on the insignificant scrap of denim that Tia had worn as a skirt, the material bunched around her waist.

Philip grunted and groaned while further gouts of semen poured out of him, the stuff raining down.




A Cuckold, Two Blondes, and BBC



Tia yelped and squealed and smeared Philip's outpouring over her skin, apparently delighted at being liberally covered in jizm.

"I fucking love it," she grinned. "A man's spunk all over me. I fucking love seeing a black cock coming." She struggled to her feet, her heavy-soled platform shoes cumbersome. Then, with no regard at all for the furniture Tia walked across the room and flopped into another two-seater settee. All scrunched up, with her back low down on the sofa, legs sprawled out in front of her, her spunk-smeared buttocks sliding over the leather, she then spread her thighs.

"Fuck me, Nathaniel," Tia whined, eyes heavy-lidded, her expression fevered. "Stick that cock into me," she added, pouting. "Fuck my pussy. I fucking want it. Come here and fucking smash me."

A strange feeling came over Emma. She felt a stab of jealousy, a sharp prick that made her, for a brief moment at least, hate the other woman. Her guts curdled, a deep and corrosive emotion souring her insides as she watched Nathaniel strip out of the Adidas bottoms. She moaned when Nathaniel peeled the dark-blue vest over his head, his muscular torso revealed.

"You can't," Emma mumbled. "Don't do it to her, Nathaniel. Please don't."

But Nathaniel just cast a contemptuous look at Emma. He sneered and said nothing, just lifted his cock in one hand and padded barefoot across the room.

"Here it comes," Nathaniel murmured, with a hand on one of Tia's knees.

The blonde wriggled and forced her legs wider, offering herself completely. She let out a mewl of anticipation, eyes wide, gulping as the bulb of the cock-head nudged her. Then she groaned, a low, primal growl when Nathaniel's girth split her open, his cock filling her.

"There it is. You fuckin' wanted it, you got it," Nathaniel said, his stare locked on Emma's face. He smirked and winked when he saw Emma gazing back at him, her lower lip between her teeth. "You love my big cock, don't you?" he said, speaking to Tia.

Nathaniel began to move and Tia gasped.

"Tell her," he insisted, pushing deep, purposely goading Emma by making Tia groan and sigh.

"Yes," Tia squealed. "I fucking love it. Big cock," she mumbled. Her arms came up and Tia pressed her palms against the back of the sofa. It was an awkward position, her back arched like a gymnast's, but she seemed intent on forcing herself onto Nathaniel's cock as he held himself over her, toes on the carpet, muscles in his arms bunching with effort. "I just wanna get fucked by black cock all the time. Fuck my pussy. Tear my little pussy apart with that thing."

The obscenities poured from Tia's mouth, a torrent of indecency at odds with the cupid's-bow lips and angelic features. It all seemed excessive to Emma but, nevertheless, as extreme and unnecessary as Tia's stream of profanity appeared to Emma, the sight of Nathaniel pounding into her, coupled with the foul-mouthed accompaniment had her fingers squelching around her vulva as she stared dumbstruck at the couple.

Philip slumped into the sofa. He sprawled on the seat next to Emma, naked, his cock in his fist.

"You like her?" he asked, chin nudging towards Tia and Nathaniel.

Emma nodded. "Yes," she muttered, eyes flicking from the couple across the room to Philip's face and back again.

"Good," Philip said. He nodded approval, smiling as he slowly stroked his penis. "I'm pleased. I think you're going to enjoy it today. I think you're ready."

Emma had a moment to wonder what she was meant to be ready for before, again, as had happened earlier on when Emma had been about to question Nathaniel over what he meant by a surprise, she was distracted.

"Come over here," Nathaniel called. "I want you to suck this bitch off my cock."

He was standing there, penis in hand while Tia levered herself upright, eyes shining.

"Now," Nathaniel growled. He waggled the terrible length of dark cock at Emma. "Get over here and suck it."

Tasting Tia on Nathaniel's cock, sucking her off the bulbous head of the thing sent another arterial burst of lust through Emma. She was behaving like a slut, was totally lost in debauchery, and she never wanted it to end. She forgot about her white husband and their stagnant marriage. Emma's middle-class leanings and narrow-minded principles came crashing down. This was what she wanted, sex with these people. It was unbelievable, she was sucking another woman's pussy off a black man's dick -- it was what she was made to do, she thought. She had found her niche at last.

"You gonna fuck him?"

Emma turned to face Tia as the blonde took control of Nathaniel's cock. "You gonna lie down and take this big fucker?" she added, her eyes gleaming a she grinned at Emma, a fist working a groan from Nathaniel. Tia licked the long shaft, her tongue going from the root to the tip. "Kiss me," she murmured after the cock-head popped from between her lips. "Feel my tits and kiss me."

Emma gasped into Tia's open mouth, their tongues swirling, writhing over and over, slippery and serpentine while she squeezed the girl's breasts.

"Let's get naked," Tia sighed when the kiss eventually broke. "Take your clothes off."

A few moments later, naked, Emma felt Tia's boobs squashing against hers as the couple kissed again.

They parted with a liquid plop, Tia's lips sucking Emma's tongue.

"Get on the sofa," Nathaniel growled to Tia. "It's time to show her what I expect from my girls."

"What about her?" Tia asked. She threw a glance at Emma, gesturing with a flick of a wrist. "What's she gonna do?"

"We'll see about her later," Nathaniel replied. There was a hint of disdain in his voice, a glint of contempt in his eye. "Show her what I expect and then we'll see if she wants to be part of it." He stabbed a finger at the sofa. "Get on it," said Nathaniel, his voice low and dangerous. "You know what to expect."

The sight and sounds coming from the pair made Emma reach between her legs. Watching Tia and Nathaniel was so sexy, seeing the woman's face distorted with such pleasure made her desperate for her own release. Emma could still feel the jealousy burning like acid, but she rubbed herself and ignored the emotion, jaw slack as Nathanial's muscles work as he fucked into Tia.

Several minutes later, while Emma groaned and sobbed and rubbed her clit, fingers sliding into her pussy, Nathaniel thrust deep into Tia and bellowed out he was coming.

"Take it," Nathaniel snarled, pushing deeper. "Take it all."

Nathaniel's climax had come after a period of high-pitched and very excited exhortation from Tia. The woman had laid there and accepted the onslaught, her pussy uptilted, hands clawing at Nathaniel's broad back and bunching buttocks, continuously urging him to fuck harder, deeper, faster.

"Fuck my tight pussy," Tia had gasped. Fuck me with that gorgeous black cock. Let it go. Come inside me. Give me all of it. I wanna feel you come inside me."

"You want my come?" Nathaniel had grunted, probing deep. "You want me to come in you?"

"I do, I fucking do!" Tia yelped. "Flood me with it."

And it seemed to Emma that's exactly what Nathaniel did. The man thrust several times, punctuating each lunge with a bestial grunt. Then he appeared to pause, simply holding himself over the woman spread under him.

"Fuck," he spat. "I'm doing it."

"Oh God," moaned Emma when she looked at Nathaniel's hanging balls, Tia's body tight around the shaft of his cock, the root of the thing pulsing. It was obvious to Emma, as she rubbed herself to orgasm, that the pulse she could see was proof that Tia's insides were being bathed with semen.

Is that what Nathaniel meant by what he expected his girls to do? Was it a requirement that she too would be expected to take the black man's seed? That was the way it had gone during their first encounter, both men had squirted Emma full of their ejaculate. So, she wondered, what was different about what had happened then to what she was witnessing now?

Then, as her climax burst, the violence of her orgasm a reaction to the idea that suddenly occurred to her, Emma realised that Tia had taken Nathaniel's spunk completely unprotected. There was no contraception: no condom and no birth control pill, nothing at all to stop Nathaniel's sperm from finding a target in Tia's fecund body. Even as she came, the climax boiling inside her, as Emma staggered backwards and collapsed onto the sofa, Philip sitting there grinning, Emma recalled something Nathaniel had said the afternoon she had first met him. In the hotel, with Nathaniel's cock inside her, as he held her up and her husband watched the black man fuck her, Nathaniel had said: We're gonna own this white bitch.

Emma turned her face to Philip. She saw him through the haze of her climax -- lean, his long legs in front of him while he stroked his length, his eyes on her. Philip's gaze roved over her naked skin. Emma could feel the intense stare on her breasts, could sense the desire coming off him.

"Please," Emma whined. She squirmed on the settee, twisting so she could lift one leg, spreading her thighs as she lay back and offered herself. "Fuck me, Philip," she added on a sigh. "Fuck me and come inside me. Do it to me just like Nathaniel did to Tia."

Tia squatted over the toilet and pissed a stream into the water below. She splayed her labia and leaned forward, watching while Emma danced and squirmed, waiting her turn.

"God," Tia said, tearing several sheets of tissue from the roll. "How much spunk did he give me?"

She stood up and turned, operating the lever to flush the toilet.

"What's that?" asked Emma as she squeezed past Tia and sat down to relieve herself.

Tia swivelled at the waist, craning to examine her right buttock, fingers stretching the taut flesh.

"Oh," she replied, "the tattoo?"

"Yes," said Emma, her water tinkling into the bowl. "Oh God," she added, breathing a sigh of relief. "I needed that."

"It's a Queen of Spades tattoo," Tia said, answering Emma's question. "You wanna look?"

Before she could respond Emma found herself looking at one half of Tia's heart-shaped derrière, blinking at the dark silhouette of a playing-card spade indelibly imprinted upon its curve. To Emma's mind it was quite a delicate motif, only two or three inches tall, shaded black except for a flesh-coloured Q in the centre of the leaf.

The symbolism wasn't lost on Emma. "It's a brand, isn't it?" she said.

Tia nodded. "Yeah," she replied, enthusiasm lifting her voice. "It means I only take BBC ... Big. Black. Cock," she explained. "I fuckin' love them. The boys are so big and they can fuck all night." Her eyes shone as she looked down at Emma on the seat. "And you have to admit, seeing those big fuckers gets you all hot, eh? I'm not interested in white men at all. I'm a black man's bitch."

"Nathaniel?" Emma said as she wiped herself with tissue.

"Not just him," Tia replied. "There are others, too."

Something in Tia's voice made Emma squirm with desire and caused her insides to flip and melt low down, somewhere deep and indefinable. The way Tia said it sounded as though the blonde thought she had found paradise.

Emma sighed, her mind full of the possibilities. Tia was right, Emma decided, there was something enthralling about seeing those two men naked. The way their cocks just hung there, defying gravity, long and weighty was a buzz all right.

When she stood up and flushed the toilet Emma glanced at Tia's face and saw the woman's expression. There was no way Emma could articulate what she saw in that distant gaze, Tia's thousand-yard stare as the platinum blonde chewed on her bottom lip; but she felt it, experienced a deep, hollow yearning as though a primordial instinct had woken, an elemental urge that had to be satisfied.

"Black men," Emma gurgled, her voice thick, glutinous with impulsive lust. "You fuck black men ... You fuck them and they come inside you."

"Yeah," Tia replied. She seemed to respond to the timbre of Emma's tone. "I fuck black guys." Tia stared at Emma's face, their eyes locking as they gazed at each other through the mirror. "They come inside me," she continued in a murmur. Tia turned Emma towards her with a light touch on the woman's shoulder.

Emma's mouth opened but no words came out. She sighed, took a deep breath, the air hissing in through her nose before she managed a croaked, "You're not using any contraception, are you?"

"They come inside my pussy," Tia breathed, her face closing on Emma's. "All that spunk inside me."

"God," moaned Emma. "God, oh God..."

And then she opened her mouth to accept Tia's kiss, their tongues sliding together gently.

Three -- Owned

David Sykes drove home. He took the usual route along the A421 from Bedford, heading east towards St Neots. He cut the corner, dodging the Black Cat roundabout to use a complex system of back-doubles and lesser-known roads until he hit the A1 southbound at Wyboston. From there he could think, just cruise down the dual-carriageway on automatic pilot until the Sainsbury's roundabout at Biggleswade.

Two months, it had been two months since the catastrophic episode with the two men and his wife, and David had had enough. It was time to put the thing behind them. Emma hadn't let him near her in eight weeks -- not a look, a touch, a kiss. Nothing.

He could understand her being pissed off. It had been a stupid idea, and it certainly hadn't met his expectations. He still reddened with humiliation when he recalled the scene he'd endured.

Nathaniel had just taken over, completely dominated the situation. And Emma had been so enthusiastic at the time, had really gone for it. But afterwards, the immediate aftermath and the days that followed ... she was like a stranger.

Yes, it was his fault, he would admit to all of it if he could just get Emma to sit down and listen.

Which was what he envisioned for that evening.

It was Friday, no work in the morning, he would convince his wife to sit down, to have a drink, and listen to him.

"I don't want a drink. I don't want to sit down and listen to anything you've got to say."

David blinked, shocked by his wife's emphatic tone. She was really determined.

"But..." David began, only to be cut off before he could say another word.

"I'm going out tomorrow," Emma said. "I'll be away for the weekend."

David followed Emma from the living room to the kitchen. "What?" he said. "Where are you going? I ... I don't understand, Emma ... Can't we just talk?" David began to babble, desperate to make the woman listen. "You don't have to run away," he jabbered.

Emma stood in front of the sink, her fingers curled over the marble work top, knuckles white as she held it all in.

"I'm sorry, Em. For what I made you do. I didn't think it would turn out the way it did. I was only trying to jazz things up between us. It was supposed to be the three of us -- me, you and ... and..." David sighed, a heavy distressed sound as he ran his fingers through his hair. "It was only meant to be a bit of fun."

Emma heard the pathetic whine as David's plea tapered. Disgust for him curled her upper lip.

"It was fun," she said, whirling round to face her husband. Emma laughed, a gleeful cackle, almost manic as she bared her teeth in a wild grin.

David blinked and stepped back a pace, unsure in the face of that crazed grimace. He glanced left and right, looking for anything Emma might use as a weapon.

"I loved it, David," spat Emma. "I got well and truly fucked." Emma's face tilted, she regarded David with an up-and-under look, her brow furrowed. "You were there, weren't you?" she said, as though speaking to an idiot. "You saw what happened? You heard everything that was said?"

David gulped and nodded. "Yes."

Emma sniffed and tossed her head, flicking her hair out of her eyes. She straightened her back, standing upright as though strengthening her resolve.

"Well ... things have moved on since then."

It had to be said. Emma couldn't keep it all bottled up any longer.

"What? Emma," David was saying, "what are you talking about? I ... I don't understand."

"I've been having an affair, David."

The words came at him like bullets. He flinched, shocked at the vehemence in Emma's tone.

But he had known it all along. If he was honest with himself, he had known his wife had gone back for more. It was obvious really.

"With Nathaniel?" David asked. He swallowed again. Did he really want to know?

Emma hesitated. The moment of truth was upon her. She had had it all rehearsed, had sensed David's restlessness and known the confrontation was inevitable. She had it prepared inside her head, but it was so difficult.

"Yes," she breathed. A pause before she added, "And Philip, too."

"Oh God," David mumbled, wincing. He yanked a chair from beneath the kitchen table. "Both of them?" David collapsed onto the chair, his eyes on his wife. "You've been sleeping with both of them?"

Contempt for her husband's weakness clotted inside Emma. Why did he just sit there and take it? She couldn't imagine Nathaniel acting that way. He would fight; there was no way he would sit still while his wife admitted adultery.

Not that Nathaniel was the type of man to get married, and even if he was, Emma doubted his wife would have any reason to stray. A man like Nathaniel provided everything, the exception being, probably, love. Nathaniel wasn't a loving man. But, Emma had reasoned, she'd married for love -- and look how that was turning out.

She stabbed the blade of her disdain into her husband's ego. "I met them in a hotel in Stevenage and let them both fuck me."

David groaned with despair, head in his palms and elbows on the table.

The sight of his capitulation enraged Emma, she twisted the knife, gouging at the wound.

"I met the two of them in that hotel, David, and I let them use me. I put it all out there for them. They fucked me and fucked me; they fucked my mouth and my pussy, David. I let them have me and I fucking loved it. Those boys know how to do it. They battered my cunt and came and came. I could hardly walk afterwards. I was covered in their spunk; the stuff was dripping out of me."

Reeling, shocked by Emma's explicit revelation, David mumbled, "I..."

He paused, images of his wife's adultery rolling in front his mind's eye.

For a reason he couldn't fathom later, when, the following day, Saturday, in the grip of his hangover as he analysed his thoughts and feelings, David blurted, "I could have come with you. I would have been there too, with you and the others."

Emma laughed, scoffing at the absurdity of David's suggestion.

"Why on Earth would I want you there, David?" Emma rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "I had two black cocks ... Big fucking cocks ... What use did I have for you?"

David wilted beneath the weight of his wife's haughty disdain. Emma glared at him.

"There's more than that," she snapped, her voice dripping with scorn. "I went to a house in Stratford. Philip picked me up from here. He drove me down to a dingy little street where they keep a gorgeous blonde woman. I watched Nathaniel fuck the arse off her. I saw him pump her full of come. It was so fucking sexy seeing them together that I begged Philip to do it to me too."

"No," David sighed, his face a distraught disc, mouth open, eyes red-rimmed and staring. "Please, no, you're making it up."

"No I'm not," replied Emma, her head moving side-to-side, "I can promise you that. Then, after Philip fucked me, after he squirted his spunk into me, after Tia and I put on a little girl-on-girl show for the boys, three more men arrived. There were three more black men there, David ... And I fucked them all."

"No," whispered David, "say it isn't so."




A Cuckold, Two Blondes, and BBC



But Emma was in full flow. She wanted to hurt him, to dig at him with her taunts. Emma wanted David to know it all -- every last sordid, depraved detail. Emma's nostrils flared and she folded her arms beneath her breasts. Her chin came up, a defiant gesture before she glared at the shell of her husband for long seconds.

"It happened, David," Emma said. "I can prove it. You can see some of it if you don't believe me."

David gaped at her, unable to comprehend what the woman, the stranger -- he could no longer reconcile the Emma he knew with the arrogant bitch standing there across the kitchen from him -- was saying to him.

"What do you mean?" David croaked. "Prove it? How?"

Emma stalked from the kitchen, her stride full of purpose. David blinked, stunned by all that had been said. He blew out his cheeks and shook his head. Muttering a curse, he pushed the chair back and stood up and followed in his wife's wake.

But was she still his wife? Could he accurately fix that label to Emma?

He found her upstairs on her hands and knees rummaging through a bundle of handbags on the floor.

"Here!" Emma cried, rising to her feet. "Nathaniel gave me this." She held out a hand, palm uppermost, fingers spread. "A souvenir of my time with him."

With a sinker of foreboding dropping into the pit of his stomach, David took the innocuous flash drive from Emma. He looked at it and wondered what devastation the tiny thing contained.

"You want proof? There's the proof."

The front door banged shut when Emma left the house. It was still Friday evening, still daylight outside. Emma had used her mobile to make the call while David just stood there with the flash drive in his hand.

He heard her half of the conversation, listened to her, and did nothing.

"I need to get away tonight," Emma had said. "I have to get out of here tonight. I can't wait until tomorrow."

A pause while she listened to the instrument at her ear. Then: "I can get a train into King's Cross ... What's the closet tube station?" Another pause, very brief, and then, "Can you pick me up?"

Yet another pause while Emma listened. She nodded. "Yes," she said, her head nodding all the time. "Yes ... Okay ... Yes. Got it. I'll call you when I get to London."

David watched his wife's face as she looked at him, her smirk caused by whatever the person on the phone had said. Her mouth curled at the edges. David saw the vulpine smirk and sly narrowing of her eyes. Then Emma turned her back to him, chuckling.

"Tomorrow?" he heard her say. "Anything you say. I can't wait for it."

Something dark slithered inside David when he realised Emma was plotting some kind of debauched rendezvous for the following day. In his head he pictured his wife and the two black men, Nathaniel and Philip. He saw again, in his mind's eye, Emma supine on the hotel bed, Nathaniel's cock pumping jizm into her. He glanced at the flash drive in his hand and his heart thumped. What images would he find if he fired up the computer and opened the drive?

"I'll stay with Tia tonight, if that's okay?" David heard Emma mutter. "But, if you're not busy... maybe I'll see you, too?" she added.

And then, with questions whirling in David's head, Emma ignored him completely. She opened a couple of drawers and rummaged in her wardrobe, throwing clothes into a small back-pack.

"Where are you going?" David said as he rushed down the stairs, following Emma to the front door. "Are you meeting him? Is Nathaniel meeting you? Is it Philip?"

David grabbed Emma's wrist just before she opened the door. "Tell me," he snarled. "I won't let you. I won't let you leave so you can go and ... and..."

Emma wrenched free of David's grip.

"You can't stop me," she spat.

She poked her husband's chest, the backpack slung over one shoulder. She did it hard, so forceful that he gasped and stepped back.

"I'm going to Tia's place. Nathaniel is arranging for me to get picked up from the tube station. I hope he comes over to Tia's house tonight so I can fuck his gorgeous black cock." Emma flicked the latch and pulled the front door open. She shrugged and smirked, adding, "But if he doesn't, I'm sure me and Tia can have some fun."

"Tia?" asked David, his mouth working around the name. "Who exactly is this Tia? Tell me, Emma. Please." He was growing frantic, the panic rising in his voice. "Please tell me where you're going. Tell me who Tia is!"

"She's a Queen of Spades ... Like me," Emma replied. Her eyes moved over her husband, a long look of utter disdain. "We're both owned, David. I'm not with you any more."

"Owned?" David said, confusion wrinkling his forehead. He squinted at Emma. "What do you mean?"

"Look at the stuff on the memory stick, David," replied Emma, her tone soft, almost pitying.

The door slammed shut, a symbol of how he had been shut out of his marriage. David stood, gaping at the space his wife had occupied a few seconds earlier.

Owned, she had said.

David unclenched his fist and looked down at the memory stick.

Four -- Torment

He couldn't watch it without a drink. The computer was all powered up, sitting on the desk waiting for him to do something, to give it a command. David had slipped the flash drive into the tiny port, and the machine had done its thing, had examined the 4 Gb memory on the stick and revealed a single file. David sat at the desk and stared at the screen for ten minutes. Several times he seemed to steel himself, to ready his mind for what he might see. David's hand slid towards the mouse, the cursor hovered over the command button, but he always balked.

Did he really want to see it?

Nathaniel and Philip ... Another woman? Tia? ...And three more black men.

That's what Emma had said.

She also said she had fucked them all, had even had sex with the woman. The proof, Emma had said, was on the memory stick. The file was right there on the screen.

A mouse-click away.

David stumped out of the house, a man on a mission. He drove to Sainsbury's and bought ten cans of Stella Artois. Returning home he abandoned the Audi at a crazy angle across the drive. He pushed nine tins into the fridge and popped the tab on the first one, had guzzled half the contents, throat working quickly before he slumped into an armchair in the living room.

He sank into in the familiar embrace of the chair. It felt like an old friend, hugging him as he tried to watch television and ignore the mocking from the computer upstairs. David drank the first beer and started on the second, talking heads going blah-blah-blah, soap opera dramas unfolding, their plots meaningless compared to the crisis in his own life.

The television blared on, unseen, unheard as the light faded outside. Four empty cans were on the coffee table next to the chair, two upright while the two others lay like damaged corpses, crushed and discarded.

David lurched to his feet, the fifth beer in hand. He swayed slightly, surprised by how effected he was as he examined the writing of the side of the tin through eyes bleary with drink.

He lurched across to the television, a flat-screened LG. David muttered as he went, taking exaggerated care not to nudge the television -- he didn't want to knock it of its stand and break the bloody thing. He took a quick look at the side of the unit, nodding vaguely as he registered the ports and slots. Then, still nodding and muttering he walked out of the living room, climbed the stairs and strode with determined purpose brought on by four and a half cans of strong lager into the room he and Emma used as a study. David snatched the flash drive from the dormant computer, turned, and then made the unsteady return trip down the stairs.

"Okay," David murmured to himself after yanking the curtains across their rails to close out the world beyond the window. "Let's see what you've been doing. Show me you doing your worst, you fucking slag."

He went to the kitchen and grabbed a sixth can from the fridge, a reserve supply while he enjoyed the show. David then slotted the flash drive into the USB port on the television, fumbled with the remote until he found the right source, downed the remainder of the fifth beer, popped the tab on the can fresh from the fridge, and settled down to watch.

In the end, all ten beers weren't enough.

That night David dreamt of water, gallons of water, lakes of the stuff; and no matter how much he poured down his throat it was never enough to satisfy his raging thirst. There was nothing representative in the dreams of unsatisfied desires, David had simply drunk too much alcohol, had glugged a bottle of red wine when the Stella ran out. Which is why, the next morning, David woke to a killer, brain-fevered hangover.

He laid in bed, immobile, suffering while the throb behind his eyes matched the rapid lub-lub of his heart. He felt hot, his throat was parched; he was starving yet, at the same time, when his stomach growled for food, he couldn't countenance eating a thing. The alcoholic paranoia, residual effects of lager and red wine, pushed his depression even further into the pit of despair. David began to sweat, nausea making him groan, guts churning, a sudden hot-browed queasiness forcing him to fling back the quilt and roll out of bed. He was trembling as he stumbled across the bedroom to the en-suite, his head a cotton-wool mess, reflexes shot to hell. Kneeling in front of the bowl David vomited liquid, his stomach heaving as he retched and spat out long ropes of foul-tasting drool. There was very little in the way of solids in the mess, which reminded David he'd eaten nothing since lunch the day before.

"Shit," David moaned, spitting a last clinging thread of saliva last before reaching for the lever to flush his anguish away.

He rolled onto his backside, tiles cold through yesterday's clothes. He hadn't even undressed for bed. David sucked in deep draughts of air, eyes closed, with his palms flat against the floor.

Slowly, very careful to avoid any sudden movements with his head, David rose to his feet. First he kneeled, hands on the toilet bowl, head hanging before he gathered his resolve and pushed up. Standing upright he wavered, wobbling as a fresh wave of nausea rolled over him.

"Fuck," he cursed. "Fuck it all."

Twenty minutes later, weak and shaking, after unwisely getting behind the wheel to drive to the nearest McDonald's he rolled into the drive through lane, scraping in before the deadline for the breakfast menu. David ordered hangover food. He sat in the car park after collecting his order at the window and managed a quarter of one sausage and egg McMuffin before he broke out in a fresh attack of the sweats. He gagged and then wrapped the remainder of the sandwich in the greaseproof paper it came in, dropping the package into the brown bag with the other sandwich he'd optimistically purchased. David left the coffee that came with his food order sitting in the round slot between the gearstick and the Audi's console, the taste of it souring his mouth. Feeling only marginally better -- at least the stodge had stayed inside him and not been regurgitated -- David called into Sainsbury's on the way home. There he bought a litre bottle of water and, despite his body's disgust, a full case of twenty-four cans of Stella Artois.

He drove home, an empty hollow feeling gnawing at his vitals, hunger rather than emotion at the scenes he'd witnessed via his television the previous evening.

David felt well enough to eat the remaining three-quarters of the McDonalds bun after the first beer of the day. He ate the second McMuffin with the second can of Stella.

Then he sat down in front of the television.

Seeing it for the second time wasn't as sickening as the first, and with some food and a hair-of-the-dog inside him David forced himself to endure a second viewing of his wife at the centre of a gang-fuck.

What was more surprising for David, as he sat there and forced himself to take it all in, was how drawn he was to Tia.

At least he assumed the other woman was Tia.

Anyway, regardless, he thought the blonde was fucking amazing. In fact, David was so taken with the gorgeous, potty-mouthed Scouser that, despite seeing his wife sucking and fucking black cock -- one in her mouth while another fucked into her cunt -- David unzipped his jeans and began to stroke his own dick.

He was hard for Tia, loved the way she looked, adored her accent, Tia's enunciation was such a contrast to Emma's polite colloquialisms, and David found the obscenities that poured out of Tia an immense turn-on. The woman, in David's opinion, was absolutely stunning, and he stared at the screen open-mouthed, tugging at his erection while Tia knelt on all fours, her derrière upthrust to accommodate Nathaniel's impressive girth.

The camera work was shaky, obviously passed from hand-to-hand as the men changed places, diverting their attention between Emma and the platinum-blonde beauty. Yet despite the lack of cinematic finesse, somehow, the raw vulgarity appealed to David. So much so that, even as Emma, his unfaithful, traitorous wife groaned and moaned and begged for cock, as she squealed with delight and babbled on about how much she was enjoying her surprise, regardless that she was begging to be filled with semen, as Tia laughed and grinned and took a huge outpouring of semen on her own face and breasts, David grunted and sprayed the front of his tee-shirt with a copious load of his own.

Then his mind began to work, and David, sitting in the chair, clothing spattered with his own semen, lewd grunts and groans and excited yelps coming from the surround-sound speakers, let his imagination wander.

Emma Sykes didn't return home until late on Monday afternoon. David saw the silver Mercedes pull onto the driveway, watched the back door open and his wife clamber out.

He was out of the front door and at the open door before Emma could uncurl from where she was leaning in to talk to whoever was inside the car.

"I need to talk to you," David said. He leaned down to survey the car's interior. Seeing Nathaniel lounging in the back seat, eyes wary, while Philip had swivelled in the driver's seat to look back over his shoulder at the intrusion, and while Emma stood there, mouth slack, blinking in surprise, David added, "You, Nathaniel. I need to talk to you."

The black man eyed David suspiciously, and with good reason. David was an unkempt mess. He appeared unwashed, hair all mussed, and with a dark shadow of his beard speckling his chin. The man's eyes had a fevered shine to them. His grin was maniacal. To Nathaniel's eyes David seemed slightly unhinged -- a result of knowing his wife was enjoying herself while he stayed at home with a video file for company perhaps? David wasn't the type to know where to put his hands on a shooter, he didn't strike Nathaniel as that sort, anyway, but in his line of business Nathaniel had learned not to make assumptions like that. David could have been driven beyond despair. He'd had two whole days plus Friday night and all of Monday daytime to stew. Nathaniel knew that Emma had left the video clip behind with her husband. And who knew what effect seeing something like that could have on a man?

"What about?" Nathaniel replied, his demeanour cool.

Philip was already out of the car, moving around the long front of the vehicle while Emma just stood there, staring at her husband.

"That woman. The blonde. Tuh-Tia," David stuttered.

Nathaniel's face registered surprise -- he hadn't seen that coming.

"What about her?" he replied.

David stood by the open door, one hand on the upper edge as he leaned in to look at Nathaniel. He blinked and swallowed heavily, his chest suddenly too small for his lungs. Arousal surged through him, and his cock, albeit sore and bruised from his masturbatory frenzy, thickened.

David hadn't bothered with work that day. He'd been at home, running through the video again and again. When he replied to Nathaniel's question, his voice cracked, splintered by the desire that overwhelmed him. "I ... I want to meet her. I want to be with her ... you know ... I want to fuck her. It's only fair," David squeaked, "you've been fucking my wife all weekend. I've seen what happens ... I've seen what you and ... and... I've seen you and your friends at her. Why shouldn't I get some fun too? I want that blonde. She's bloody lovely."

"You can't..."

The voice was Emma's, and David uncurled, rising and turning to face his wife.

"She's a Queen of Spades," Emma said while Philip stood next to her, watchful eyes on David. Emma blurted a laugh, scoffed as though the thought of Tia with David was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard. "Trust me," Emma continued, her upper lip curling, "there's nothing you could offer Tia."

Nathaniel's voice drew David's attention. He stooped and regarded the black man again.

"You want to be part of all that?" asked Nathaniel, a note of incredulity in his tone. "Shut your fucking mouth, bitch," he added with a snarl when Emma interjected with a scornful comment.

The woman's lips compressed into a thin line; she blinked and recoiled, taking a step back when Nathaniel leaned forward and pointed an aggressive finger at her.

"I-uh-I'm sorry," Emma said, sniffing back sudden tears. "Please..."

"Shut it," Nathaniel growled, adding, "Take her into the house, Philip."

David watched his wife being led away. Emma glanced back over her shoulder as Philip took her arm and coaxed her over the threshold.

"Get it," Nathaniel said. He patted the seat next to him. It was still warm from Emma's buttocks when David eased himself down into the car. "So," added Nathaniel, smirking, "you fancy Tia?"

Five -- Turning

Emma was naked. They were all inside the house, David and Emma's place. Nathaniel had listened to what David had to say, had taken in the man's urgent need, and had quickly -- so characteristically quick to formulate a plan -- manipulated a scenario that involved David watching his wife in real-time. Nathaniel knew he could influence the outcome, saw an opportunity and decided to exploit it. After all, it was his forte.

David looked at his wife, registered the fresh tattoo on her right buttock, saw the enflamed skin at the periphery of the playing-card design while Emma knelt on hands and knees, her sex offered to Philip's cock.

"You want to join in?" Nathaniel murmured in David's ear. "There's something you've got to do."

Kneeling on the sofa, with Philip behind her, Emma warbled, "I'm sore. My pussy ... Oh fuck..."

Nathaniel laughed. "Your wife's had a hard weekend," he said. "Maybe, if you're a good boy, one day I might let you see how hard she works." Nathaniel turned away from David. "You want Philip to stop?" he called to Emma.

"Fuck no," grunted Emma in response. "I can take him one more time."

"Good girl," Nathaniel crooned. He moved to the settee and squatted, stroking Emma's hair. "That's what I expected to hear. You're learning. You're gonna be well worth that tattoo. You're learning what it is to be owned." He leaned in and kissed Emma's mouth while David looked on. "You're a Queen of Spades now."

"In my pussy," Emma squeaked. She winced and thrust back against Philip. "My poor pussy..." Gasping and wincing again, Emma added, "You've ripped me apart..." Her head rolled up and Emma caught her husband's eye. She stared at him, eyes glazing as she mumbled, "I've been fucking black cock all weekend, my cunt's been stretched."

David sucked in a deep breath, his guts flipping, the corrosive jealousy squeezing his insides. He had difficulty in recognising the woman. Physically she resembled his wife, but the language she used, the obscenities that poured out of her ... That wasn't his Emma. This woman wasn't his wife.

"Tia, too," Emma continued. "Five black cocks for two dirty girls." She grunted and moaned, head lolling. David saw Philip's fingers digging into Emma's hips. "You watched the video, didn't you, David? You saw what happened ... Well, me and Tia have been getting fucked like that since Friday night. We've both been properly fucked. Real men, David, proper men ... We've been getting fucked by men who make us come. I can't tell you how fucking good it is to feel a big cock inside me." Emma moaned again, gasping and reaching back to claw at the man behind her. "Fuck me," Emma grunted. "Give it to me. Fuck me ... Come inside me again, Philip. My pussy is all yours."




A Cuckold, Two Blondes, and BBC



"Jesus," David breathed, agog. "Emma ... Fucking hell ... Emma..."

"Tia's a bad influence," Nathaniel said, chuckling. He gave a half shrug, lifting one shoulder. "I think your wife picked up some of her nasty habits," he added. "Tia likes to do the dirty talk."

David managed to drag his attention away from his wife when Nathaniel touched his arm.

"Sit down," Nathaniel said, his tone brooking no objection. "We can talk while Philip services the bitch."

David sat in the chair he'd occupied for most of the time since Emma's abrupt departure on Friday night. Nathaniel settled on the chair arm.

"You want to be part of this?" the black man asked.

David gulped and nodded. "Yes." He would agree to anything. If that's what it took to have Tia...

"Well, that's kind of difficult..." Nathaniel stroked his chin while David looked up at him and Emma continued her enthusiastic commentary, making it clear to all that she was enjoying herself. "You don't qualify," the man added. "You don't meet the criteria."

"But..." David began.

"Sorry," interrupted Nathaniel. He held up a hand to cut off any retort. "That's just the way it is." Nathaniel gave the half shrug again.

"Oh God," Emma wailed. "I'm going to come. I'm fucking coming."

David turned when he heard his wife's exultant cry. He gulped again, eyes bulging as he watched Philip's cock slide from her body. "Fuck," he muttered, shocked yet deeply aroused when he saw Emma's desire glistening on the dark length. David noticed a foamy residue around the root of Philips penis, the creamy lather evidence of his wife's lust. "God," David moaned. "Fuck her," he muttered when Emma rolled onto her back and spread her legs, Philip moving on top of her and sliding back in, balls deep. "Fuck my wife, he croaked."

"But ... you know," Nathaniel said after a few seconds thought. He stood up. "There might be a way you could be part of this."

"How?" asked David.

By then Nathaniel had kicked off his over-sized, pristine-white training shoes. He was sliding his tracksuit bottoms down as he grinned into David's enquiring face.

"Come over here," the black man said, the tilt of his head indicating the settee. "Let's see if you've got what it takes."

Philip was pumping hard at Emma's body, and David's wife was making all kinds of noises -- squealing and grunting, gasping and groaning. David could hear the liquid squelch of the Emma's pussy around Philip's girth, could see the man's balls swinging. He squirmed and stared as they bounced off the crease between Emma's buttocks.

"I'm going to come again," Emma wailed. She was scrabbling at the sofa, urgently forcing herself up and on to Philip's cock. "Rip me apart," she grunted, her face twisted into a rectal grimace. "Tear my pussy apart with your lovely cock," Emma snarled.

"Give it to her, Philip," Nathaniel said. He was standing in front of the debauched tableau with his cock in his fist. "Fuck the bitch. Come in her.

David stood close by and stared down at his wife's body. Emma was stretched wide, her legs waggling, feet waving while Philip thrust into her, grinding deep.

"Yes," David heard Philip grunt. "Fuck ... Yes..." Philip pulled back and forced himself even deeper, his hips jerking in time with each word that was forced out of him. "Again," Philip mumbled, head rolling, his neck stretching as his back arched and he stared wall-eyed at the ceiling. "In ... Your ... White ... Cunt."

"Look at that," Nathaniel said, his voice low, close to a whisper. "See that stuff my friend just pumped into your wife?" There was a pause while David gaped down at the trickle of semen dribbling out of Emma. "You want to be part of this scene? Clean it up. Get down there on your knees and lick her pussy."

Six -- Turned

To their friends, neighbours, and even their family, David and Emma remained the same. Outwardly they gave no indication of their altered status. They behaved, in public, as they had always done. David drove to work at the same old time, leaving at half-past-six, returning, usually, just shy of twelve hours later. Emma did the Tuesday and Friday stint at the charity shop. They shopped at Sainsbury's and Asda on Thursday evening. Life went along, staid and constant as ever, most weekdays at least.

Weekends, however, were different. Very different.

Two months after Nathaniel had introduced David to his role in the proceedings, on a Thursday evening late on in September, summer having given up, a distant memory, the low sky glowering, a Churchillian frown of grey cloud, David parked the Audi in the drive.

He was glad to get inside the house. It had been a pig of a day, and on top of truculent clients, petty criminals who expected miracles, he'd half expected a deluge from above to make the journey home difficult.

David had been lucky, the rain had held off. He dropped his keys into the bowl on the shoe cupboard by the front door, anticipation spiking beneath his ribs when he heard Emma's words.

"It's arrived," she said.

David gulped. "Has it?"

"I just said so, didn't I?"

David flinched at Emma's contemptuous tone. It was a stupid thing to say.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"What you're going to do," said Emma, her chin nudging towards the stairs, "is get up there and get ready. You've got ten minutes."

Excitement flared inside David. His stomach flipped. There was an edge in his voice when he asked, "Have you said anything to Nathaniel?"

A snort from Emma as she crossed her arms below her breasts.

"We'll see how it goes. If you're a good little slut I might call Nathaniel and give him a good report." A nasty smirk crossed Emma's face. "It all depends..." Emma sniggered and rolled her eyes. "So," she added softly, "get upstairs and get ready." She gestured to the floor above with a sweep of one arm. Pointing at the ceiling, Emma finished with, "If you're good, and if you please me, I might, and I said might," emphasised the woman, "tell Nathaniel about it. I might let you come with me at the weekend."

David gaped at his wife for a few beats before shoving himself up the first three stairs in a hurry. He pushed off against the lintel at the foot of the staircase, scampering up to the second storey, eager to impress his wife. If he managed it to her satisfaction he might, he hoped fervently, be involved in a scene with Tia that weekend.

He was hard at the thought of it, his cock fully erect as he scrambled out of his clothes. Two minutes under the shower, another thirty seconds to towel dry. David was quick anxious to get started, nervous at the prospect of what he was about to endure. He was under no illusion that he had to accept what was going to be happening in a very short time.

David wondered, as he often did, about the changes his marital circumstances had wrought in him. The fateful meeting with Nathaniel and Philip had fundamentally affected Emma, caused all manner of alterations. The shift in Emma's attitudes to all matters regarding her husband, sex, and her relationships had been huge, a seismic, and the only way David could maintain even a modicum of the status quo was to accept the union between him and Emma was over as they'd known it.

He laid on the bed, waiting, his mind going over the events of weeks recently gone by. There had been, at least on his part, huge emotional episodes. At first David couldn't believe his wife could change so quickly. It seemed Emma had turned overnight. She embraced the queen of spades thing wholeheartedly, had given herself -- mind and body -- to Nathaniel. David found the speed of Emma's conversion staggering.

Anger had followed in a brief, explosive rage that turned inwards when Emma reminded him he had engineered the initial meeting.

Acceptance came after a lengthy period of introspection. David had forced himself, at Emma's insistence, to fully examine his motives for facing the humiliation of cleaning Philip's jizm from Emma's pussy. His ego took a battering, but in the end David reached an epiphany -- Behaving that was had turned him on. He found a perverse pleasure in seeing his wife being used, and licking semen from her pussy had aroused him. At first David had been appalled at what he perceived as his own corrupted sexuality. Allowing himself to be humiliated wasn't the proper way to behave.

But, surprisingly, it had been Emma who took him beyond the initial disgust.

David's wife had sat him down one evening and laid it all out for him: She wasn't going to give up her new lifestyle.

She enjoyed the trappings of their better-than-average income -- loved her home, her volunteer job, the easy domesticity of living with David -- but she would throw it all up for Nathaniel. As far as Emma was concerned she was owned. She had the brand on her buttock to prove her status as QOS.

"But you want to be part of it," Emma had said. "You watched the video clip and it turned you on. You said it the night you cleaned me up."

David's face burned when the truth of it all came from Emma.

"You were all horny for Tia," Emma continued. "So fucking turned on you were desperate for her." Emma's eyes had narrowed; she had stared at David, seen the conflict he was struggling with. "But that was just part of it, wasn't it?" Emma's words were a whisper. The silence that followed forced David to look at his wife's face. "Fancying Tia is an excuse..." A laugh blurted from Emma. "...Not that you don't really fancy her, that woman is so bloody sexy." Emma smirked, unable to resist taunting her husband. "She's better in the flesh, David," she said, her voice low, expression mocking. "What you saw in the video..." Emma blew out her cheeks and let out a long sigh. "Nothing compared to seeing that girl for real."

"Emma ... Please..." David had moaned. His cock was hard, he felt a near overwhelming urge to look at the clip again, wanted to revisit the terrible sight of his wife steeped in perversion while he masturbated.

"You enjoy it, David," Emma said, shrugging. "It's a kink in your nature. You're hiding behind a heterosexual façade, using Tia as an excuse, but I think what happened with Nathaniel and Philip has affected you, too. You've discovered something about yourself that's as profound as my newfound self-awareness.

"Face it, David. The whole thing gets you hot.

"And, if you want to, I can try to convince Nathaniel to let you be a part of it."

David had agreed after a day of introspection. He had examined everything fully and come to a decision. Life as it had been was over. Things were changed, irrevocably so, there could be no going back.

They had watched the video together, both masturbating, Emma's queen of spades status precluding any physical interaction between the spouses. But as the pair reached their respective climaxes a new phase in their relationship began. Emma began to train her husband, prepared him for what was to follow.

David turned his recent experiences over in his head, waiting for Emma to arrive.

A few minutes after drying off he heard Emma's tread on the landing. She moved past him, ignoring David completely as he lay on the bed.

Emma walked by, a colourful box in her hand, the door to the en-suite closing behind her.

David reached for his cock as soon as he heard the click. He played with himself, stroking his cock, thrilled by the sensations, throwing nervous glances at the door in case Emma caught him in the act. Masturbation was forbidden unless she gave him express permission, consent usually denied unless he was watching one of the video clips of her in action. David's sex life had been reduced to masturbatory sessions in front of the television, with him wanking while Emma fucked herself with a rubber cock, their eyes on her being gang-fucked by Nathaniel's crew.

David tugged at his cock, unable to resist the urge. It was about to happen. The test was upon him.

He immediately released his cock when the bathroom door opened, sitting up on the bed, palms down as he lurched upright and gulped at the sight of his wife.

Emma's eyes gleamed with malicious intent, big breasts swaying, hair pulled tight in a ponytail, the intimidating length of black latex rubber, the recently arrived strap-on dildo, waggling in front of her.

"I'll be kind to you the first time," Emma grinned. She held up a small tube, one that could be mistaken for toothpaste or ointment. "I'll use lube the first time."

David blinked and forced himself to keep his hands away from his erection while Emma clambered onto the bed.

"Suck it first," murmured Emma, lying prone, the rubber cock upright in her fist. "Pretend it's Nathaniel's dick," she added. "Suck it like you mean it."

"Can I touch myself?" David whined, his hand halfway to his lap.

"Not yet, maggot," snapped Emma. She waved the dildo to-and-fro. "Just slurp on this for a bit. I want to see how you'll perform if it was Nathaniel or Philip you were sucking." Her sly grin broadened. Emma's eyes narrowed to slits. "After all," she added, "if you impress me we might be sharing a big black cock tomorrow night. Think about that, David." Emma's eyebrows arched as she murmured the half-promise. She jerked her hips in a signal that her husband should get down there and make a start. "You and Tia might be sucking Nathaniel's dick tomorrow. She might let you lick her tongue after you've both sucked dick."

"I-I'd like that," David gasped, breathless at the thought of being so intimate with Tia, aroused by the image Emma put into his head.

Sucking Nathaniel's cock? The very thought had David almost grabbing for his erection. He very nearly went for it, only managing to stop himself because the outcome would only be a postponement to his initiation. David knew that to disobey Emma's rules would slide the timeline back. He'd been close before and messed it all up by a lack of discipline.

"I know you would, you pathetic worm," hissed Emma. "You'd suck cock just to be close to her." Emma waggled the latex length again. "Now get on it. Suck it. Make some noise. Spit on it and impress me. Do it right, and if you can take it in your arse without whinging you might get to play with the big boys."

So David went to it. He slurped and licked and mumbled about how he loved to suck black cock. He fisted the length of the thing, his hand working as though he could really make the dildo spit. He looked up, lips stretched as he stared into his wife's eyes, letting the bulging cock-head plop out of his mouth before he cranked at the shaft and mumbled, voice cracking with his own pent-up desire, "I want to take his spunk on my face. Oh, Emma," David breathed, and in the second before he aimed the tip of the strap-on at his extended tongue, groaned, "All of it. I want one of those black cocks to shoot the hot stuff all over my tongue and face."

"You filthy little worm," Emma sighed, her eyes wide.

Emma's tone, in conjunction with her newfound vocabulary sent a shiver of excitement through David. He took the dildo between his lips again, imagining it was the real thing.

"You nasty cuckold slut, added Emma."

By then she had somehow contrived to work a hand between the malleable rubber plate at the base of the strap-on, the vaguely triangular section between the root of the dildo and her vulva. Emma worked her fingers around her sex, her manipulations hampered due to the tight fit of the arrangement.

"Get onto your front, you shit," Emma snarled, frustrated in her attempts to get at her own sex. Determined to vent her irritation on her husband, Emma yanked her hand free and tugged on the straps to tighten the apparatus against her body.

"Face down," Emma commanded, and then she was on her knees, reaching for the lube. A generous squirt of the stuff onto the latex knob, a dollop of the same onto the roundel of her husband's sphincter, and Emma was set to go. She smeared the slippery gloop over the length of the dildo with one hand, miming a wanking action while she nudged David's thighs wider with her knees.

"Oh God," David mumbled, his face sideways on, one cheek pressed into the cornflower blue pillowcase. He reached back at Emma's command, splaying his buttocks, exposing the delicate membrane of his anus.

"Take a big black cock," Emma said, introducing the blunt end to the dark smudge.

David mumbled something, some garbled utterance that meant nothing to her. Not that it mattered if he were begging her to push it in or take it away; he was getting that thing in his arse. Emma nudged the cock-head at her husband's vulnerable opening, meeting an elastic resistance until, with a touch more effort from her, she felt the thing sliding into David's body.

"You dirty slut," Emma whispered. She was laid along the length of David's back, her breasts squashed against him. "You're going to be a Sissy-boy for Nathaniel's dick. He's going to fuck your arse and you're going to let him."

"Yes," David groaned, the sibilant a drawn out hiss. "That's what I'll be. I'll be the same as you and Tia."

"A filthy Queen of Spades Sissy-boy," whispered Emma into her husband's ear. "Now," Emma continued, gently easing David onto his side, the dildo wedged in his anus. "Now you can wank. Tug your cock ... I'll fuck your Sissy arse. Do it, you pathetic piece of shit. Show me what a nasty pervert you are."

"Emma," grunted David, his fist working at his erection. "I want it all ... Please..."

And Emma worked the dildo in and out of her husband's greasy arsehole, fucking him, holding his hips as she probed deep into that dark place.

For David, taking the full length of that dildo was the pinnacle of all the training he'd undergone to date. They had started slowly. First it had been a finger in his anus, then a small vibrator. As David had grown more accustomed to having his sphincter stretched the girth of objects used increased. Finally, that evening, he had been ready, confident he could take an oversized dildo, more than happy to relinquish all control. David lay there on his side, his wife spooning from behind, his anus stuffed full of rubber cock while Emma thrust and he worked at his own cock.

"I'm going to come," David grunted after less than a minute. "Fuck ... Emma..."

"Do it," Emma snarled, her hand pushing David's fist off his cock. "Come for me. Do it while I fuck your arse."

They lay there, connected by the strap-on, Emma's hand cranking away at David's cock as she him a reach-around. David groaned and gasped, his head rolling until, with a huge bellow blurting out of his mouth, semen jetted from the eye of his cock in violent spurts.

Emma kept on working her hand against her husband's erection, jacking away until the eruption tapered to an ooze.

"Lick it off," Emma, jamming her hand and its coating of jizm at David's mouth. "Lick your spunk off my hand and then lick my cunt."

And several minutes later, with David's tongue slurping at her clitoris and bubbling opening, Emma climaxed heavily.

"That's good," she moaned. "I'm going to come. Make me come, you pathetic worm. Get me there and I'll call Nathaniel. I'll tell him you're ready."

Seven -- Sissy-Boy

The sissy-boy opened the door. She wondered, briefly, if any of the neighbours had seen the trio who had climbed out of the silver Merc. What would they make of Tia in her high heels, obviously pregnant in her incongruous outfit of tiny tartan kilt and tight white blouse? What would they say about two black men accompanying her to the door?

"Look at you," Tia said when she saw the sissy-boy all dressed up.

The sissy-boy's cheeks flushed red. She stepped back, wobbled a little, still uncertain in her new high heels.

"Where's my lovely lady?" asked Tia as she pushed past the sissy-boy. "Emma!" she called. "Where are ya, Emma?"

"Looking good, bitch," Nathaniel smirked as he crossed the threshold.




A Cuckold, Two Blondes, and BBC



The sissy-boy blinked and avoided the grin, her eyes downcast.

Following behind Nathaniel, Philip walked into the house, economical with his words as usual. He just glanced at the sissy-boy as he went past.

When the guests were all inside, the sissy-boy closed the door on the world outside. She belonged to them now. The four people inside the house had complete control of her. She shivered, thrilled at the prospect.

Everyone gathered in the living room, with Nathaniel sitting in the armchair, Tia and Philip side-by-side on the sofa while Emma stood in the centre of the room, her contemptuous gaze on the sissy-boy. The sissy-boy stood in the doorway, eyes meekly set at a downward angle of forty-five degrees. She knew to avoid eye contact, merely waited for someone to give her a command.

Emma's attention moved from the sissy-boy to the platinum blonde on the sofa. She eyed Tia's distended belly. "You look gorgeous," she said.

Tia smiled and rubbed the palm of one hand over her bump. "And you look fuckin' sexy," she responded. "I dunno what it is," she added with a wry chuckle, "but being pregnant makes me horny as fuck."

Emma shivered, goosebumps rising on her arms under the intense scrutiny. "You're always horny, Tia," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah," said Tia, laughing. "But it's worse seeing you all dressed up."

"Undressed is more like it," Emma replied. She glanced down at herself, her palms sliding over naked skin, hands moving from her hips to her breasts, an expression of feline satisfaction on her face as though touching her own body gave her immense pleasure, as though her skin was made of silk. "Speaking of which," Emma added, "how come everyone else is still covered up?"

In her stockings and heels, heavy breasts swaying, Emma got down onto her knees. She crawled across the carpet towards the chair, kneeling upright when she reached Nathaniel.

"Can I kiss your cock?" Emma asked, smiling up towards Nathaniel's face.

Nathaniel chuckled, nodding. "About time," he said. Up went his hips, down came the baggy tracksuit bottoms, and out flopped his impressive cock. He jacked his penis with one hand for several strokes. "Here, bitch," Nathaniel added, "get it started. The other three should be here in an hour ... maybe an hour and a half ... but I'm in the mood to fuck my bitches now."

"I miss your lovely cock when we're not together," Emma said in a petulant whine. She cranked a fist up and down, pouting at Nathaniel before, her stare locked on the black man's face, she licked the blunt cock-head.

By then Tia had risen to her feet and unpinned the kilt. She cast it aside and, naked from the waist down, turned to face Philip. Tia was standing there, her feet apart, shoes planted firmly on the floor, fists on her hips while black fingers slid through her vulva.

"Come here, you sissy bitch," Nathaniel growled when he caught the sissy-boy staring at the debauched scene. He gestured, arm curling at the elbow to indicate his wish. "Get down on your knees and help this one suck my dick."

"You dirty slut," breathed Emma when the sissy-boy, in her heels, stockings, filmy chemise and blonde wig joined her at the altar of Nathaniel's penis. "Suck the black cock, you fucking worm," she muttered. "Go on; get your lips around the big fucker."

"Yes, mistress," the sissy-boy, mumbled, her eyes fixed on the daunting girth Emma presented her with.

"You two are fucking mental," Nathaniel said, his head going side-to-side. He could hardly believe what he'd created. The husband and wife kneeling in front of him had been an average couple until fate had hooked them up.

In a lighter tone, his voice amused, Nathaniel added, "You got the bitch well trained though, Emma."

The sissy-boy sucked and slurped at the black cock. She loved holding the thing in her hand, savoured the weight of it and marvelled at its size before lapping at the head. Sucking the real thing was so much better than pretending with the strap-on. The black cock in her mouth, the one stretching her lips, pulsed with life, and the sissy-boy wished she was allowed to touch her own pale dick.

"Suck it," Emma muttered into the sissy's ear. "Taste that fucking thing. Go on, lick it all."

"Oh!" blurted the sissy when Emma took the cock from her. "Please ... Can I have it back soon?" she whined.

Emma sucked Nathaniel's length and teased the sissy with her eyes. "You're a cock-hungry whore," she said as she worked a fist up and down the long black trunk. "Hungry for black cock, aren't you? Here," Emma added, holding Nathaniel ready for the sissy's lips. "Suck on it some more. Make some noise. Show me how much you love it."

The sissy moaned and grunted, her tongue and lips moving over the black cock for a minute or two while Emma looked on, one hand jacking the length of cock not taken by the sissy's mouth, one hand working at her cunt.

Then Nathaniel took control of his penis, replacing Emma's fingers with his own hand. He placed the palm of his free hand on the sissy-boy's head, right on the crown of the wig.

"This is what you're good for," he added, eyes on the sissy-boy's face. "White sissy sucking black man's cock." Nathaniel's heavy stalk slapped with meaty thwacks against the sissy-boy's cheeks. I'm gonna fuck your wife," he added. "And when I've fucked her so she's good and wet, you're gonna lick her off my cock."

"Oh God," the sissy-boy groaned. "I want to touch myself."

"None of that, maggot," interjected Emma. "You're not here to play with your tiny white cock. You're here to suck black dick and watch while me get fucked."

"Your wife's gonna get fucked right in front of you," Nathaniel put in, taking up the refrain. He smirked down at the sissy-boy as she knelt in front of him, her mouth gaping. "You're gonna see it all. Me and Philip will do her, and when the others get here, they're gonna do it to her, too." Nathaniel pushed the head of his cock at the sissy-boy's mouth, forcing her red-painted lips further apart. "Your wife's gonna get filled with our spunk."

The sissy-boy stared at Nathaniel, her mouth filled with black meat. She mumbled something and Nathaniel laughed. "Keep sucking," he said. "Let's see how you handle all of that."

"Will you fuck me?" Emma said as she staggered to her feet. "Please, Nathaniel, fuck me now."

"In a sec, bitch. Let this," he nodded at the sissy-boy, "suck my dick for a while longer. I like it best when you make some noise. Let's hear it," added Nathaniel. "I wanna hear you moan, sissy. I wanna hear you tell me how you wanna suck my black cock."

"You dirty fucker," Tia gasped from across the room. "That's so fuckin' horny. Him sucking that cock." She unbuttoned the tight white blouse and freed her round breasts. Tia squeezed her tits, thumbs sliding over thick, elongated teats as she teased her nipples into points of excited flesh. "You wanna lick my pussy?" Tia asked when she saw the sissy looking at her.

Tia's voice was strung high, her excitement obvious, and the pitch of it grabbed the sissy-boy's attention.

The blonde held herself open, her sex pouting, exposing her core to the sissy-boy's hungry stare.

Philip was on his feet, removing his clothes, watching the interaction between Tia and the sissy.

"Lick my pussy," Tia insisted. She moaned and winced, her finger slipping over the nub of her clitoris. "I'm fucking horny. I wanna come."

As she'd been instructed to do by Emma in an earlier briefing, coached in the etiquette expected of one so lowly placed in the hierarchy, the sissy-boy crawled across the carpet on her hands and knees. She reached Tia, her cock hard at the thought of licking the blonde's pussy.

"I love you," the sissy-boy murmured as her head dipped in between Tia's legs.

"I fuckin' know you do, you pansy," Tia replied. "But shut up and lick my cunt."

The sissy-boy stroked her cock and lapped at Tia's sex, grateful for the blonde's indulgence.

Emma watched the sissy-boy lapping at Tia's vulva. Then, when she felt a touch on her hip she turned and looked down.

"For me?" she murmured when confronted with the sight of Nathaniel's thick penis.

"Get aboard," the man said. He waggled his dick. "Sit on it," he snarled.

Emma swung a foot over Nathaniel's outstretched legs. Facing him, she squatted, fingers splaying the flaps of her labia as, chin on chest, with her mouth hanging slack, she lowered herself towards the saliva-smeared dome.

"Fuck," groaned Emma when her body took half of Nathaniel's length.

"Oh yeah," the black man responded, his dark fingers closing over Emma's breasts. "Shove your big tits in my face, bitch," he muttered.

The sissy-boy turned at Emma's groan. She lay curled at Tia's feet and watched her wife's pink and very stretched pussy take the black cock. She twisted round, her head turning to regard the couple, Tia and Philip, sitting side-by-side on the sofa.

"What have I become?" the sissy-boy, mumbled.

Tia had Philip's cock in one hand. She sneered down at the sissy-boy between her feet.

"You let your wife get herself owned," Tia said, waving Philip's cock to emphasise her point. "You stood by while she earned her queen of spades tattoo. Now," continued the blonde, her fist working faster, "you're at the bottom of the heap. The black men own me and Emma, and we all own you."

At her side, Philip let out a groan. Tia looked at him and smiled. "Is that good, baby?" she asked, quickly adding, "Don't come yet." She turned to look at the sissy-boy once again, her stare locked on the sissy's face. "Don't come yet, baby, Tia repeated with a murmur. Smirking, she added, "You've got to save it for Emma's pussy. You've got to save all that cum for her."

When she saw the expression on the sissy's face -- a cocktail of horror and lust, a look that revealed all the complex emotions the sissy currently felt -- Tia worked the barb deep.

"All that cum your big balls can make," Tia continued, her voice thick and treacly. She knew what could happen when the black men let go inside a woman's pussy. Her own swollen tummy was evidence enough. "You and the others," Tia groaned, her hand moving between her legs. "You and Nathaniel and the other three all pumping Emma full of all that lovely stuff."

She leaned forward, her face close to the sissy-boy's tortured countenance. Whispering, voice cracking, Tia ended with, "That's what's gonna happen. All the men are going to give Emma all their cream. Right in deep. They're gonna fill her unprotected pussy with their seed."

To Tia's satisfaction she saw the sissy's throat work.

"That's right, sissy," Tia continued. She rubbed a hand over her swollen belly. "The boys are gonna smash Emma's pussy and fill her with spunk. They're all gonna cum in her unprotected pussy. Your wife's gonna have black man's cum inside her."

"Oh God," the sissy-boy breathed, her eyes round at the revelation. She knew all that, anyway. None of it was news. But to hear it coming from Tia made her want to touch her cock. "Can I clean all the boys when they've finished?" she whined.

"You can get over here and clean this bitch off my cock," Nathaniel called. The sissy turned to see Emma easing off Nathaniel's length, the shaft of the thing smeared with her desire. "Then I'm gonna fuck your sissy arse," the man added. "Philip's gonna dump a load in your wife -- the bitch we own ... And I'm gonna initiate your white arsehole while you watch it all happen."

To the sissy-boys delight and humiliation, that's exactly what happened.

Nathaniel repeated his order that the sissy-boy to suck Emma from his long, dark cock. Which is exactly what she did, slurping and slobbering and moaning about how good it all tasted and how she wanted to tug her own little dick. Then, when Nathaniel was satisfied that not a trace of Emma remained, and while Philip laid her wife down on the sofa and spread her legs, the sissy-boy knelt and offered her virgin anus.

"I broke her in with the strap-on," Emma mumbled, her face falling slack after she spoke, Philip's girth stretching her.

"Fuck him," Tia whispered to Nathaniel as the black man crouched low over the sissy-boy's back. "Oh God, fuck his arse." 

Across the room Emma glanced up at Philip, her bottom lip between her teeth, eyes adoring. "Fuck my pussy," she squeaked. "Drill me and let me have all your cum."

Tia watched it all, her eyes going from Nathaniel penetrating the sissy-boy's dirty-hole to Philip plunging into Emma. She rubbed herself, fingers moving over her clit, breath coming in puffs as she got herself to a quick, intense orgasm. Minutes later Tia was there again, a second climax rolling over her when she heard Philip grunt.

"Squirt her with the hot stuff," Tia mewled, her hand a blur between her legs, her cunt swollen.

At the same time, as though on cue, Nathaniel muttered a curse and let himself go, the root of his cock wedged tight inside the sissy-boy's sphincter, semen flooding her rectum.

"Fuck," the sissy-boy blurted, her hand cranking at her cock. "I'm full of black cock ... Emma," she groaned, "I'm full of him. It burns; having him there burns and itches." And then, as her pale dick squirted semen onto the carpet and the sissy-boy came, she groaned out loud that she could feel Nathaniel's cock pulsing, the flood of his seed spurting into her anus.

When the other three arrived, the rest of Nathaniel's crew, things got even nastier.