She kissed him softly and whispered into his mouth, “I don’t know…I don’t know.”
“The bedroom upstairs? I’ll show you what I brung in your bedroom.”
There had never been any talk of taking him to their bedroom, of lying with him in their bed. Whatever was going to take place was supposed to happen here, in the den. To desecrate their bed with this kind of disgusting perversion was unthinkable “Yes,” she said, “it’s upstairs.
When he stood, she stepped back staring in awe. He was even taller and heavier than she’d estimated. The top of her head reached only to the middle of his distended belly. His neck was thicker than her waist. The idea of this huge black monster taking her in the way that he intended...in the way that she’d agreed to, terrified her. Why? Why had she allowed Brian to talk her into this?
As she passed her husband, she looked hard at him, her eyes tearing once more, hoping he would somehow stop them. Brian turned away and waited to follow behind the black man. At the bedroom door the two men paused. The black man turned to face Brian. “My name is Travis Henry, but you and your wife call me Mr. Henry. You got that, wimp?”
Brian nodded, “Yes, I understand.”
“Good. Now you can stand here in the doorway till I tell you to shut the door.”
The bedroom was large and softly lighted. She had left the two bedside table lamps lit. On one of the tables was a photograph of her younger sister. On the other was a photograph of the children. She quickly turned it face down. An open door to the left of the bed led to a bathroom. In addition to the queen-sized bed, there were the usual chests, a walk-in closet, an overstuffed chair, her make-up table and bench. Over the table and facing the bed was a large mirror.
Travis strode over to the chair and sat. It groaned under his weight. He signaled to Brian, “Yo, go fetch me another beer.” Brian nodded and they heard him descend the stairs. Travis crooked a finger at Maureen, “Now, bitch, get that hot ass of yours over here so I can feel you up.” She had regained some of her composure, not quite believing how she had let herself go. Reluctantly, she crossed to stand before him. He spread his legs, “Closer,” he said. She stepped forward. His hands were as big as baseball gloves, the palms calloused, the fingernails long and dirty.
“You’re a tiny thing, ain’t you? But that’s all right. I like a tiny woman. Differences, you know, black and white, big and little. Still, I ain’t never had a woman as small as you.” He placed both hands behind her knees and slowly moved them up the back of her legs until they cupped her ass cheeks. She gasped and looked away. “Jus like I thought,” he said. “You got a tight little ass.” He kneaded her bare flesh. “Yeah, I like that. I like a tight white ass. I like to watch my big black prick disappear up a tight white ass.”
She closed her eyes. How dare he, she thought. How dare he say such things to me. How dare he touch me as if he owned me. Her legs began to tremble as he moved his fingers along the cleft of her ass. “You want that don’t you? You want what I’m doin?”
Shaking her head, she felt a hot flush come to her face, “Please, no, I…I…don’t.” He drew his fingernail lightly over her anal opening. She drew in her breath. “Yes,” she whispered almost inaudibly, “yes.”
Travis looked over at Brian who had returned and was standing in the doorway with the beer. “How you like this? How you like watchin the black man playin with your wife’s virgin ass? This is what you paid to see, right?”
Brian turned red and stuttered. “Ah, I…I…”
Travis interrupted, “I got a feelin your little wife is getting hot. Maybe she even wet already.” He looked up at Maureen, “You hot? You wet?” She didn’t respond. “You want me to check it out?” Instead of answering, she moved her foot over, parting her legs. He placed one hand on the inside of her thigh. “Say it,” he demanded.
“Yes, touch me…touch me there.” Her voice was a raspy whisper.
He slid his hand up to her crotch. She moaned almost audibly as he moved his finger slowly along the slickness of her slit. Taking his hand away, he gestured to Brian, “Hey boy, bring that beer and take a look at how your wife is creaming for me.” As Brian gave him the beer, Travis held a glistening finger up before him. Travis grinned, “Look at that! I ain’t hardly felt her up yet and she’s got herself all wet and ready for my big black prick. What you think, boy? You think your wife wants to get fucked?”
Brian swallowed and began to mutter, “I…I….think so…maybe.”
Travis waved him back to the door. He held his finger before Maureen’s face, “And what does the little wife say?”
She was trembling. With his other hand Travis continued to fondle her ass and touch her anal opening. “I’m…I’m….ready,” she said.
He placed his wet finger on her lip. “Taste your cunt,” he said. She hesitated, then parted her lips and sucked his finger. She could feel the grit under his fingernail. He stared at her, his eyes hard and mean. “After I fuck you you’re gonna taste your cunt again. You’re gonna lick your cunt juice off my dick.” He withdrew his finger from her mouth. “Ain’t that right, baby?”
She looked away, then back at him. “I…I…don’t know. Maybe...I don’t know.”
He tilted the bottle up and drank, then placed it on the floor. Pulling her toward him and seating her on his lap, he said, “Kiss me…tongue kiss me like you mean it.”
Against her ass and legs she felt the hardness and heat of his cock. His huge arm circled her waist. She glanced down startled at the blackness of his hand against her white blouse as he cupped her breast. His finger was still wet where she had sucked it. A few moments ago that finger with its long dirty nail had been inside her pussy and then inside her mouth. The thought repulsed and excited her. She tilted her head and parted her lips. He drew back. His black face loomed over hers, his lips glistening with spittle. She saw that his eyes were still hard, almost mean. She lifted toward him. Again he pulled away from her.
The thought flashed into her mind that she desperately wanted to feel his lips on hers, wanted to slip her tongue inside his mouth, wanted to taste the beer he had just finished, wanted to drink from the black well of this stranger’s mouth. “Please,” she whispered, “please let me kiss you.” My God, she thought, I’m begging this grossly fat black stranger to let me kiss him!
“Suck it,” he demanded. He extended his long, broad tongue. She parted her lips and took it into her mouth. She had never done this before, sucked a tongue in this obscene way. Whenever her lips got close to his, he’d push her head back. She longed for the moment when he would press his thick, wet lips against hers.
Holding her head between both of his hands, he let their lips touch for just a moment. She groaned and strained toward him. His tongue circled his lips wetting them again. He held her head just beneath his own. “You want my spit?” She didn’t know what he meant. Again he said, “My spit, you want it?” She nodded. “Open,” he said. She parted her lips and watched as a large gob of saliva formed and hung for a second from a thin strand before it dropped into her mouth. It was hot and tasted slightly of beer. She swallowed. He brought his face closer to hers. She saw in his eyes that he despised her. “You like the black man’s spit?’ She nodded and opened her mouth. “Not now,” he said, “you gonna learn to beg for it. Tell me.” She found it difficult to speak. She shook her head.
His eyes flashed angrily, “Say it…say Mr. Henry’s white bitch will beg for his spit.”
Squeezing her eyes shut she thought, ‘I can’t, I can’t say it.’ She opened her eyes and looked into his, “Mr. Henry’s white bitch will beg for his spit,” she said. “Please,” she opened her mouth again. He spit into it and she swallowed.
“Got to thank your man,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Henry.”
“For what?”
“Thank you for letting me have your spit.”
Leaning close to her he said, “That’s better.” Very lightly he let his lips brush hers, then he drew b
ack. Again and again he touched her lips with his, light, flickering touches. She moaned and lifted toward him. His heavy lips became distended, engorged.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, “please, please let me kiss you.” Her mouth was open wide, her tongue moving back and forth, her breath coming in gasps. Suddenly he pressed his open mouth over hers. His swollen lips were hot. He rubbed them against hers. She had never been kissed like this. Never had there been this kind of hunger, this kind of liquid fusion. She darted her tongue in and out of his mouth. She licked the spittle from his pendulous lips. She opened her mouth wider inviting his tongue into it. All the time she continued to moan from deep inside her. No sexual experience in her life and ever come close to the passion she felt in kissing this stranger, this huge demanding black man.
He covered her mouth with his own, pressing hard, bruising her swollen lips. She felt his tongue inside her mouth, filling it, pushing toward the back of her throat. His hands clasped her face tightly. Her tongue slid under his. She moved it from side to side. Their saliva mixed and some seeped from the corner of her mouth. She was aware only of his hot breath, his wet lips, his thick tongue, and of the low groaning sound that was coming from deep inside her.
Suddenly, he let go of her face and pushed her violently from his lap. She fell, sprawling on the floor, her senses reeling. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “You sure one hot bitch,” he said. “Get your ass over there and fix yourself up.” He pointed to the make-up table.
She struggled to her feet, unsteady in the stiletto heels. Looking in the mirror, she saw that her lipstick was smeared and her mascara had run. She concentrated on steadying her trembling hands as she applied fresh lipstick and gloss. She wiped her face clean and repaired the mascara. Finally, she brushed her hair and straightened her blouse.
“Why’d you do that?” he asked.
She turned to face him, “You told me to.”
“You makin yourself pretty for your black lover?”
She knew now that he expected a complete answer. “Yes, I’m making myself pretty for my black lover.”
He nodded then gestured toward Brian who still stood in the doorway. “Go over there by your husband,” he said.
Not looking at Brian, she crossed to stand in front of him. “Now boy,” Travis said, “Your wife is gonna give herself to the black man. You gotta respect a wife who’s smart enough to know a real man when she sees one. Ain’t I right?”
Brian was still shaken after what he’d just witnessed. He wasn’t sure what Travis had asked. “Yes,” he said meekly, “yes, you’re right.”
Travis nodded unsmiling, “I see your wife is wearin a brand new pair of fuck-me shoes and her little toes is bare.” He paused. “You got to show her respect by getting down on your knees and kissin them toes. But first I want to hear your wife tell you what she wants to do.”
Maureen looked at Travis who nodded. Blushing furiously she turned to her husband, “I...I…want to give myself to him. I want him to take me.”
Brian stepped back, frowning. “On your knees, goddamn you!” Travis shouted. “Or I’ll come over there and break your fuckin head!” Maureen turned toward Travis again, intending to protest but seeing the anger in his eyes she remained silent.
Hesitating, Brian got to his knees and kissed the brightly painted toes of her right foot. “Both!” Travis shouted. Obediently, Brian kissed the other foot. Still on his knees, he looked across at Travis who asked, “Why did you do that, boy? Why you on your knees kissin your wife’s feet?”
“Ah…uh...you said for me to do it.”
Travis leaned forward, “That ain’t the right answer, you dumb fuck. Why did I tell you to do it?”
“To…to…show her respect.” He saw that Travis wasn’t satisfied. “To show her respect for giving herself to…to…the black man...giving herself to you.”
“That’s right, boy. I’m gonna fuck your wife. If you’re a good boy, maybe I let you watch. You want to watch the big black man fuck your wife? You want to watch your wife on her knees suckin my black cock and lickin my black balls?”
Brian continued kneeling, “Yes, I’d like to watch.”
“And when I’m done fuckin your wife, you gonna clean her up. I mean with your tongue and show her respect again?”
Brian wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but was afraid to question. “Yes, I’ll do what you say.”
“That’s right, boy, from now on you gotta show your wife more respect.” Maureen had turned to face him. He stared at her for a moment, “It’s easy to see there ain’t but one man in this room. How about you sayin who that is?”
She glanced at her husband who was still on his knees, then she looked at Travis, “It’s you. You’re the only man here.”
“You my woman?”
“Yes, for tonight, just for tonight I’ll be your woman.”
“You want me to fuck you?”
She took several steps toward him. He pointed to the floor. “One of the first things you got to learn is that you got to crawl to the black man when you’re wantin him to give you his cock.” She got to her knees and crawled until she was kneeling between his spread legs. He could see that her nipples were pressed tight against the shear blouse. He also recognized a look in her eyes. It was one he’d seen a thousand times before. The little bitch wanted it. Well, she was gonna have to do some tricks first. He allowed himself a slight smile. “Please, fuck me,” she said.
“You want the black man’s cock?”
“Yes, I want the black man’s cock.” She placed her hands on his thighs and looked up at him.
He stared at her, his face set, “That’s right,” he said, “you got to want it…want it bad. The black man ain’t like the white man. White man do anything to fuck your pussy. You white bitches use that, you know. You think your pussy’s made of gold cause the white man act like it is. He thinks about your pussy all the damn time. With the black man, man like me, it’s the opposite. I don’t give a damn about your pussy. I can get all the pussy I need. But you, white bitch like you, don’t ever get a cock like mine. You gonna be thinking about my big black cock all the time. Gonna be wantin it…wantin it real bad.” He leaned forward, “I ain’t only gonna be your black lover, I’m gonna be your black master and you gonna be my pretty little white bitch. Ain’t that right, bitch?”
He was so full of himself, so confident. This huge, fat, ignorant, black overbearing slob was forcing her to say things she would later regret, but they were just words. She didn’t have to mean them. She swallowed hard, “Yes, tonight I’ll be as you say, your pretty white bitch and you will be my black master.”
“You gonna worship your master’s cock so maybe he’ll fuck you with it?”
She looked up at him then bowed her head and was silent. ‘My God, she thought, was he crazy or was she? All her life she’d been in control. Except for this present situation, she made the decisions in her marriage. She’d always known Brian was weak. He deferred to her in everything. Why did she agree to go along with his insane suggestion? She’d always been a strong and independent woman and proud. To be on her knees like this before this black stranger was beyond anything she could have imagined. But there was something…something she couldn’t quite understand. His size maybe, his arrogance, his presumption, his certitude. There was something about him, something about being on her knees like this…something about submitting to a man so obviously her intellectual, social, and cultural inferior that excited her just as much as it humiliated her. Looking up at him, she said, “Please let me see…I mean let me worship your cock”. She reached to unbuckle his belt.
He grabbed her hands and glared at her. “You need some goddamn lessons,” he said evenly. “That’s the way with you white women. You think you can get whatever you want by just askin. Like I said, it don’t work like that with me. You got to learn how to worship the black man, how to be grateful even if he only lets you look at his prick.” He released her. She let her arms hang
at her side and bowed her head. “You never touch your master unless you ask or he lets you know it’s OK for you to touch him. The only thing you touch my dick with is your mouth. You’re gonna learn to worship my cock without using your hands. First thing you do is clean my prick and my balls with your tongue, hands behind your back. Then you’re gonna beg me to fuck your mouth. You’re gonna open wide and learn to take it all. You got that?”
She glanced up at him and nodded, “I understand.” She frowned. Something was happening that frightened her more than she’d ever been frightened in her life. She comforted herself with the thought that it would be over in a few hours. This huge powerful black man would be gone and that would be that. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something more or to do something.
She put her hands behind her back. “That’s it, you got the right idea,” he said. “Sometime you’ll just suck me slow and easy. Other times I gonna hold your head and fuck your mouth hard just like it was your cunt.” She clasped her hands tightly and felt a shiver go through her body. He leaned forward, “I cum good. I can cum two, three times in a couple hours. There’s always a lot of hot cum. You’re gonna learn to want my cum. You’re gonna swallow every drop of the black man’s cum and wish there was more. Now what you got to say?”
As he was speaking, she could feel the heat draining downward to her vagina. She could feel how wet she’d become. “I…I…don’t know what to say,” she murmured. She wanted to tell him to leave, threaten to call the police if he didn’t. She remembered how his mouth felt as it covered hers, the wetness of his thick lips. Without looking up she whispered, “Teach me…please…teach me how to worship your black cock.”
He leaned back in the chair. “Yeah, you got to learn some stuff.” He gestured for her to back away. She crawled backwards until she was about five feet from him. “Now,” he said, “stand up and strip for me, but do it real slow. You got to tease your man. You got to always let him know you’re hot for him, real hot for your black master. The only thing on your mind is to make your man hard, make him want to fuck you.”
The Sweet Wife Page 2