by Tempesto
“Big plans for tonight,” her hairdresser asked.
“Absolutely!” she said in a dreamy tone. “My husband is going to watch my black lover fuck my fertile pussy – all – night – long!”
The woman stopped and considered that answer, silenced.
“You didn’t have to say that in there,” I complained in protest as we drove back home.
“And why not?” she answered.
“It was humiliating! That’s why not!”
“Oh, and James fucking me for the last three months isn’t?” she snapped back.
“That’s humiliating too. I just felt like you didn’t have to say that while I was sitting there,” I answered.
“Face facts Ben, It has been a couple of weeks since I went to the doctor. James hasn’t cum since then, and I’m at my most fertile. THINK about it! There’s a real good chance that after tonight you will have to deal with a while lot of humiliation every day,” Christine said. “Are you ready for that possibility? Sure, he might not get me pregnant tonight. But if he makes love to me like he has been for the last few months it won’t be long. It might not happen tonight Ben. But I don’t think it will take long!”
My wife lit a cigarette, and gazed out the car window. “Make no mistake Ben, that man is going to make love to me tonight and you had better prepare yourself for the possible consequences. Are you ready for the possibility that my first child might be his? How do you think you will cope with a your wife nursing a mulatto baby on my tit in public?”
My heart was thumping hard in my chest, and the teasing by my wife was getting me horny. The answer to Christine’s teasing came naturally as tenting started to appear in my Dockers. She reached over and gripped my cock with her hand.
“Ben what is it about all this that gets you so fucking horny?” she asked. “Can’t you see beyond this cuckold game? Your wife is going to make love to a very horny, very virile black man all night tonight, and I might get pregnant! How can that make your dick hard?”
She started to massage my rigid manhood through my slacks.
“Oh Christine that feels so good,” I said. “I don’t know why it turns me on. I can’t help it.”
I looked at my wife’s pussy. Through her jeans I could clearly see the gap between her reserved folds! She had taken to wearing skirts for so long that I hadn’t had the chance to see her pussy in tight jeans in months. But there it was, blatantly. Sir James had victoriously placed his symbol of dominance on my wife’s womanhood. Christine was now marked by the fucking of her black lover’s manhood.
Christine now had the tell tale camel toe!
I struggled not to gawk at what James had accomplished, the spoiling of my once tight wife that his shaft had wrought. Meanwhile, Christine kept squeezing my hardness as she looked out the window.
“We will see how you are tonight!” she said.
Then she released me and was silent for the rest of the ride. I wouldn’t even try to lie. I was apprehensive about the threshold we were crossing. Finally I fully comprehended the warning Paul had given me at the motel bar. Sir James was going to baptize us into the deepest levels of subservience to his blackness that very night. The torrents of twisting regret and second thoughts swirled within me like violent tornadoes. I glanced again at the camel toe our black Master had bestowed upon my wife, confirming the superiority of his manhood. The gravity of his triumph between my white wife’s thighs weighed heavily on me, crushing the screams demanding that I stop the inevitable mating of my wife and her black lover.
Obedient to our Master’s instruction, I did my very best to assist Christine’s preparation for the evening. Helping her undress was an incredible thrill. For the first time in months I was finally able to bask in my wife’s beautiful nude figure. Thankfully, she still had no tattoos, apparently because James liked her white skin pure and unmarked. Christine still proudly wore the gold nipple rings of our mutual Master. I tried not to let her observe my attempt to see the status of her yoni. Only her panties remained. I knelt by my wife, head directly in front of the thin triangle of cloth hiding her sex. Wordlessly my hands went to her hips, and gripped the straps of her panties. I slowly pulled them down.
The shock I experienced upon seeing the remains of her private garden is almost beyond description. My wife’s once snug lips were so loosened by our Master’s attention they were turned out completely and slightly clung to her underwear.
I looked up and saw Christine had been watching the revelation of her altered secret. I could see the yearning for approval and fear that I might reject her for what her womanhood had become. She bit her lower lip in the palpable nervousness of the moment.
I stood quickly and hugged my wife. “I love you,” I reassured her.
“Thank you for understanding,” she said modestly. “I know you had no way of knowing what being with James had done down there.”
She looked away, embarrassed. I gave her another reassuring hug and said, “I love you Christine.”
“Okay, lets not get all emotional,” she eventually said. “Draw my bath.”
I did as she asked, helping her into the warm water when it was ready. There was a basket of fine soaps that I had purchased just for the occasion, and began slowly worked up a thick lather in my hands. Relaxing in the water, Christine lifted one arm for me to clean, then the other. Next she lifted her legs out of the water for my attention, one at a time. For the first time since Sir James had come into our lives I was able to touch Christine’s boobs. Even if it was only to lather and clean her skin, touching my own wife’s breasts was an incredibly erotic thrill after having been taboo for so long. Finally, I was able to experience a fleeting thrill and touch her gold nipple rings for myself. My wife let me clean her back and midriff, but denied me the chance to wash her most private places.
Drying Christine off was a sheer pleasure. I could not believe that I had never taken the time to perform this act of intimate pampering when I had my wife’s affections. In the most delicate of motions I touched the soft, thirsty towel to her luscious skin. The thrill of drying every bit of my wife was a lost opportunity in my marriage before that night. I swore to myself that this would not be the last time I partook of the pleasure of indulging my wife in this way. When every other inch of her skin had been slowly dried the last untouched area was her sacred, shaved triangle. I knelt at my wife’s feet.
“Would you allow me to dry your special place, my dear,” I asked.
“I like that you showed the respect of asking, Ben,” she responded. “Yes, please finish drying me.”
I savored the exquisite pleasure of the granted moment, gently sliding the towel up the curve of my wife’s inner thigh until it rested at her opening. I gently dabbed her mound, fascinated by her tellingly engorged sex - lips. As I gently dried her I was treated to the piercing thrill of catching a whiff of her intoxicating sexual scent.
She was perfectly clean and dry. The air surrounding my wife drifted with kiwi and berry scents from posh soaps combined with a slight hint of her sex’s aroma. Kneeling next to her made my mouth water with desire, and I would have treasured the opportunity to savor the tang of her essence one last time before this night.
Alas, that was not to be.
Christine and I went to the bedroom, and I prepared the scented oils that I had purchased for this night. I laid a sheet over the bed so that we wouldn’t soil the bedspread. She laid down and allowed me to massage the luxurious ointments on her body. I rubbed the soothing mixture on her skin and kneaded her tender body thoroughly, even her breasts. She denied me to touch her pubic area, however.
Her outfit for the evening consisted of an undergarment of snow - like white lace lingerie, complete with classic garter belts and silk leg hose, under an equally fair evening dress. Her attire would remind anyone of a modern style bridal gown. It was a symbolically fitting outfit, given the plans for the night. But, I was stung by the foreknowledge of humiliation that I would be subjected to this evening, both
public and private, in her repudiation of our marital bonds.
When Christine was prepared for the evening, I quickly showered and got dressed. Sir James had informed me that I was to be their acting butler for the evening.
Sir James arrived right on time in a limousine, complete with chauffer. The driver came to the door, and escorted my wife to the car as I followed. He opened the door, and Christine offered her hand to Sir James. He kissed it, and she entered the back seat. The driver closed the door, and motioned that I join him in the front seat. I was disappointed that the divider was up, but not entirely surprised.
We went to the very best restaurant in town, an excellent steak house. There was a table waiting for us and I was shocked to see my in-laws, as well as a newly reunited Brenda and Paul, already waiting! Christine’s parents were clearly shocked at the spectacle of their married white daughter dressed in white and clearly the date of a black man in a tux!
Dinner was awkward and strange, but electrically thrilling. I couldn’t help stealing a few quick glances at Brenda’s tummy to see if her pregnancy was showing. The slight baby fat of her natural build still concealed the fact that she was with child. Christine’s parents clearly had no idea what they had been invited to, and gave me disapproving looks of shock and shame. But in some ways ‘coming out,’ so to speak, had to happen sooner or later.
‘Why wait any longer?’ I internally supposed as I ate.
The food was very good, but not cheap. After I paid the check James thanked everyone for attending the special night, without elaborating. By the knowing looks on Brenda and Paul’s faces they clearly understood the significance of the occasion.
On the ride back to the house I was again relegated to the front seat. When we arrived, I took it upon myself to tip the chauffer after he had escorted the couple to the front door.
Finally there was nothing left but for us to all enter the sacred space, the master bedroom. Sir James ordered me to strip and sit in the chair in the corner of the room. I complied as he fussed with the video camera. He removed a duffle bag from the closet. James removed leather restraints from the bag and tightly bound me to the chair, with my arms back and legs spread back. In a final touch, he gagged my mouth.
Christine had watched my binding, and waited for her lover. When I was firmly taken care of, James returned to her. She melted into his muscular arms, and they shared a sensual kiss.
Watching them was painful and aching. But I could not avert my eyes. As their passion grew, my own manhood also swelled. Slowly this man unwrapped the gift I had prepared for him. He savored the layers of fine clothing that adorned his gift as her gown slowly fell away.
All too soon Christine was stepping free of her gown. My gaze found the sensuous gentle arc that curved from the top of her inner leg to almost half way down her thigh, a feature that I had always found turned me on immensely. I had always found my wife’s body perfect, and had obsessed over every detail and sexy curve since the first time I explored her.
The silk, milky pallor of her lingerie was a stunning contrast next to her lover’s dark skin. My wife then began to undress her lover, slowly revealing his muscular physique and planting a kiss here and there. Soon he was completely nude, and the large snake between his legs was unbound and exposed.
Christine knelt in front of her mahogany lover. Her petite white hands caressed his potent organ. His manhood was already swelling, yearning to perform the task for which it was designed. My wife’s hands gently massaged his length. As I watched her prepare her lover my own manhood grew in sympathetic unison. When he was half erect, she finally dipped her head towards the lingering tip. Her lips parted and gently received the throbbing head of Sir James penis. It was the first time I witnessed my wife give another man head. I noticed that her eyes softly closed as her mouth surrendered its sugary satisfaction.
I witnessed in rapt attention as my wife prepared James manhood for the risky events of the evening. It was a unique, floating combination of humiliation and exhilaration to watch my wife suckle his cock. For the first time I was a spectator of her skill in the womanly art of pleasing a man orally. That moment was life changing. For the first time I was not distracted by the pleasure of the act itself and able to appreciate my wife’s technique. She didn’t rush to try to deep throat her lover, and instead concentrated on the tender tip as she warmly cupped his large ball sack in her hands. What struck me was how many times she had spoiled me with the exact same pampering, but somehow I failed to fully appreciate her favors. It stung with jealousy that this other man was experiencing the exact same treatment I once regularly received. Logically, I knew that this was just the way my wife gave oral sex. But for some reason I just never expected how much it would disturb me to watch her perform the exact technique on him as she had once used solely on me.
James manhood grew as my wife’s mouth surrendered its sweet rewards. As he swelled my wife started to slide her mouth along its length. Soon he was completely erect, and Christine’s mouth was engorged by his fullness. She released his hardness from her mouth. Still caressing his cock, she looked up into his eyes. My own cock was completely hard and throbbing as I watched that precious shared moment between them. James took her hand and helped her to her feet.
They shared another moment of recognition, holding hands and then a sensual kiss. James gently started to undo the lingerie fasteners that held the last clothes covering my wife. She stood with a straight, yielding stance as her flesh was slowly revealed. Her lingerie top was finally freed and James smoothly pulled it away, revealing Christine’s C cup breasts. They seemed larger than normal, and the tips were firm with anticipation. My wife’s eyes were closed as she was exposed.
James wasted no more time to claim the fertile, willing woman before him. His hands went straight to the fragile strings of her panties at her waist. He quickly pulled them free from covering Christine’s sacred triangle. Her stretched sex lips clung for a moment to the panties, as if attempting to retain their cover. But her modesty was completely and finally unveiled. She lifted her tender feet one at a time, stepping out of her panties.
My manhood was throbbing, and dripping pre-cum in anticipation. My heart was pounding, knowing that these two lovers were both soon going to dance the mating tango as never before. Knowing that Christine’s womb was fertile and fair game was intensely erotic. Sir James had teased me for the past two weeks that he was saving up his seed by not cumming, and his potency was surely at it’s zenith. The power of the moment was explicit.
Christine silently got onto the bed, spreading her legs in invitation. Her hand reached for her womanhood, fingers gently opening her now-rubbery lips. The call to breed was complete and James was the desired sire of her animalistic lust to procreate. The black stud took his place between Christine’s thighs; gently caressing the inner curves that had so magnetized my attention earlier. I could clearly see her free hand reach for his mating missile. James moved his hips closer to hers, pausing for a moment just an inch from the goal line. There was a final eye to eye recognition between the lovers – a final chance to reconsider.
“I love you James,” Christine said. Then I saw her hand insistently pull him to her erotic opening and guide him to the edge of her now loose lips of her supple womanhood.
My manhood had been throbbing and raging hard until I heard my wife utter those words. Hearing her profess her love for this man snapped me out of the erotic spell I had been under. My erection started to wane! Suddenly I wanted to stop what was about to happen. I struggled against the leather restraints and tried to talk through the gag. All efforts were fruitless. They both ignored my muffled sounds of protest and attempts at freedom.
Then the mating sacrament began! Christine dipped the naked tip inside her opening and ran his hardness around her soaked sex lips, drenching him in her syrupy wetness preparation for entry. Sir James started to push his hips inward and my wife’s flesh valley effortlessly yielded! Christine’s hand stayed to steady his progr
ess until half of his pole was firmly inside her. Then her arms draped over his shoulders, offering her bosom to him. Instinctively her ankles locked gently around his thighs granting him perfect access to her feverishly sweltering vagina.
With his virile cock still half - way inside her, James paused. “You feel so fucking hot tonight Christine!” he exclaimed. “I’ve never felt you so scorching and wet!”
“It’s all available for you tonight James! anything you want!” she lustily responded.
I tried again to fight my restraints and muzzle. I was helpless. Fear coursed through me now that I was free of the foolish erotic voodoo hex that made me want to see my wife fuck another man. But it was too late. Both of them ignored me, and my tortured sounds. They were clearly savoring this pinnacle moment of their relationship, and I was of no concern tonight!
“This is the night I’ve been waiting for baby girl. Tonight I’m going to make you feel like never before!”
With that final warning his manhood started to finish it’s claiming of my wife. Slowly her sex surrendered to his shaft, pink lips stretching ever larger as they became increasingly crimson. It was different than the first night I had seen them copulate. That night my wife’s pussy struggled with this thickness and length. Now she was clearly accustomed to the girth, camel toes do not lie. I had not been allowed to witness the transformation of her once taut lips to their present condition. But the achievement of Sir James was now obvious. There was no resistance from Christine’s pussy, and no cries from her lungs to go slow as there had been that first night.
How I longed to hear my wife cry out in pain because of this man’s girth! Once, I had witnessed her vagina wrestle with his size. Countless times I heard her anguished cries of erotic pain behind closed doors. Now there was no struggle. The war was over and the lines were forever altered.
Sir James was almost three quarters inside, and then he slid out almost to his tip. When he was exposed I could see that he was drenched with my wife’s sugary nectar. To see such wetness covering his manhood further revealed her readiness for this man, her willingness to accept his life giving sperm.