Web Site Inductee
By
A. G. Thomas
My husbands voice barely registered as I stood in the middle of my large walk in closet idly running my fingers over my collection of dresses. It wasn't that I was outright ignoring him it was just that I had other things on my mind. Things such as which of my latest acquisitions would I stuff into my carryall then change into before going into work.
Most of all though my thoughts were on how in the world had I let myself become that which I had once looked down on. I gue
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ss you can say that it all started almost four months ago when out of the blue and for no earthly reason that I could think of I volunteered to take a couple of Margaret's cases. I'll have to admit that at the time I was already carrying a large case load but because she was falling behind and since I was the department head it was up to me to set things right.
Talking to her should have been enough but since I had never been one for confrontation, and soft hearted soul that I am, I took the easy way out. That she took my offer for something other then it was intended is understandable. What had once been an occasional good morning, good night, on my part became a listening board for her martial problems. Problems which even if a tenth of the gossip that was bantered about the office were true, were justified and of her own doing.
Should I have been suspect at her sudden friendship and of the many lunches she bought? At the time no. But looking back on it now I would have to say yes because from taking a couple of her cases I suddenly became her best and dearest friend. Though I did my best not to be critical of her there were a couple of occasions in which after having seen her climb into a car with someone which I knew wasn't her husband I admonished her.
How had I known that the man wasn't her husband? Well for one thing beside his looking like an arrogant gang banger he was black. The first time it had happened she passed him off as the gofer for the mechanic who was working on her car, and naive me knowing that she had indeed taken her car into the garage that day I let it slide. Still though I did let her know that it wasn't seemingly for a white woman to climb into a car with a negro. Especially one as unsavory looking as the young fellow.
When despite my mild rebuke I witnessed her climbing into the same young negro's car several other times, three of which in addition to him there were a couple of other equally unsavory individuals I couldn't constrain myself. I told her that if she was going to act like a loose woman, that if she was going to consort with men of that caliber and ethnicity any friendship that we might of had was finished. I told her that her actions were a reflection on me and I wouldn't stand for it.
For several days neither of us spoke to the other and then one day as I was preparing to leave the office she stopped by. Tearfully she told me that she had never meant to abuse or belittle the friendship I had shown her, and that she just couldn't stand it if we were no longer friends. Yes she understood that her actions had been a reflection on me but at the time she hadn't given much thought to it.
Was she aware of what others in the office were saying about her? Yes, and she would never be able to forgive herself if those same busybodies talked about me in the same vein because of my association with her. Then wrapping her arms about me much as a child would a parent that she knew she had disappointed she sobbed wretchedly begging my forgiveness.
Despite my misgivings as to her sincerity what could I do other then as she asked of me. Yet despite my lack of faith in her sincerity I witnessed no other indiscretion on her part in the days and weeks that followed. In fact she seemed more alive then at any time since I had known her. It was as if a great burden had been taken from her, and I felt justifiably proud of myself for not only having befriended her but also the cause for her change. The one thing that didn't change though was her wearing of those sinfully short skirts.
Thus it was that when despite our age differences, she having only recently turned twenty one and I pushing twenty eight as well as my being her boss, when she invited my husband and I to her home for dinner I accepted. This despite the fact that her husband was a warehouse labour and mine a top level executive and therefore the two of us moved among a different social circles. My husband though wasn't as open to the invitation so it was with no small surprise when at the last moment his secretary called saying that he would be working late.
When several minutes after I had demanded to be put through to him he picked up the phone and without giving me a chance to rant profusely apologized. He muttered something about having to go over a recently rewritten contract that had to be in the clients hand the next day. Then muttering that he probably wouldn't be home until after midnight he told me to go without him.
It wasn't as if that had been the first time his secretary had called to say he was working late. But for it to happen the one time in the five years of our marriage that I had made plans pissed me off to no end. I seriously considered calling Margaret and giving my regrets. But the thought that my doing so would be as equally tacky an action as my husbands had been stopped me from dialing her number.
After making excuses that my husband had to work late, the dinner, which I myself would have been proud of, was surprisingly pleasant. Later as I helped her clean up she gushed about work and how her case load was nearly caught up. When she noticed that I was only listening with half an ear she said forget about him sweetie, men are assholes. Then with a deep sigh as if having come to a decision she muttered that there was something important that she had to talk to me about.
When we moved to the living room Robert excused himself under the guise of letting us girls talk about what girls usually talk about. Hardly a heartbeat after he had walked out the door to have a couple of beers with friends Margaret rushed into her bedroom. Several minutes later she returned carrying a large manilla envelope and handed it to me. As I looked at her questionably her eyes misted and she stuttered please don't hate me but I didn't know who else to show them to.
Had my expression been one of stupid incomprehension as I looked from the envelope to her then back again? I'm not sure but I think it was. Releasing the catch I tipped the envelope up. As what appeared to be no fewer then ten, possibly as many as twelve dozen photographs spilled onto the coffee table a startled gasp burst from my lips. Despite being appalled by the lurid spectacle before me one eye stayed on the photographs as I turned to face Margaret.
Who, when, why tumbled almost whisper like from my lips as turning back to the photos I picked one up. There was no doubt that it had been taken anywhere other then in the very room in which we were sitting. Margaret was on her knees in the midst of five negro's though only three were receiving her attention. Her lips were around the bulbous knob of one dark penis while her small hands were about two others. The remaining two, their penises in their hands, were smiling broadly as if assure in the knowledge that she would soon be pleasuring them.
As the photograph fell from my trembling fingers back onto the coffee table, despite my wanting them to do anything but, I was unable to stop myself from picking up another then another and yet another photograph. In most of the photos there was only one, sometimes two negro's with her, but there were several in which as many as a half a dozen negro's were present.
As each lurid image after lurid image emblazoned itself on my retinas the thing that stood out in greatest detail was the length and girth of the negro's penises. In every case they were no less then twice that of my husbands little three inch penis. Looking at the latest photo which I had picked up: one in which she was again kneeling but this time with mouth open and with her tongue almost touching the mushroom shaped head of the negro's penis I heard myself asking if all negro's were so endowed. The answer when it came was with a lilting dream like laugh.
Over the next half hour I learned that she had taken her first negro lover at Roberts insistence barely three weeks after her marriage to the man. It had all started one night after they had made love. He had told her of a fantasy that he'd had since his teen years, so she, because she loved him, had agreed to fulfill it. It was supposed to have been a one time thing but as I could plainly see it had turned out to be anything but.
Over the next half hour or so she told me that even as she had lain in bed with the negro still atop her he had taunted Robert. She might be your wife white boy but she's my bitch now, my white slut to pleasure myself with whenever and however it pleases me. If your a good little white boy I my even let you fuck her every now and then. But now that your old lady knows what it's like to be black pleasured she might never want your white dick again.
A couple of days later when Robert had had to work overtime the negro had returned, only this time he hadn't been alone. After that there was no keeping him and dozens of his friends away and Robert did nothing to stop them. In fact he took perverse pleasure in watching them use her. But he didn't just watch, he both photographed and video taped their use of her. His perversity was such that now on nights when neither the young negro or any of his numerous friends stopped by he would prowl the bars and ally ways for other negro's.
Recently he found out that some of the porno sites would pay big bucks for such pictures and video's so he had sent them a couple of photographs. Their offer though hadn't pleased him and now he was thinking about making his own web site. He's even come up with a name. He's calling it "The Social Worker." The only thing that's stopping him is that he's not all that bright when it comes to computers. But as soon as he finds someone that can help him set up a pay site he's going to post everything that he has shot.
Videos I hollowly asked. He has videos of you making love with negro's? Hardly had the words left my mouth then she took my hand and led me into the bedroom. Sitting me on the edge of the bed she turned on the large plasma TV then the DVD player. Taking her place beside me she snuggled into my arms like a small child. As I sat stunned and silent watching scene after scene of her with different and sometimes multitudinous negro's she whispered they don't make love to me Mrs. Rhodes, they fuck me.
Her warm breath against my ear sent hot flashes through me as she told how they used her harder and longer then her husband or any white man could ever use a woman. Some she said, had driven their powerful dark cock's into her cunt or ass for nearly a half an hour and in a few cases even longer.
"I'm their white slut to use and pleasure themselves with however they see fit. Their hard, powerful black cock's are stronger then any aphrodisiac, and though I know that they're only using me to satisfy their own lust, the pleasure that they give me in return is worth any shame I might feel in being their cum slut."
Despite my being appalled by what I was viewing as well as her words I could no more tear my eyes from the screen then I could pluck them out. Especially during the times when with a blissful look on her face as a negro or negro's were driving their penises into her like savage beast she would put the DVD in slow motion then descriptively narrate what it had felt like as they had fucked her like a bitch dog in heat before filling her cunt or asshole, and in one case both simultaneously, with their hot thick cum.
By the time Margaret retracted the second disk my breath was coming in quick shallow gasp. I honestly felt as if I were hyperventilating. It took me several minutes to realize that Margaret's face was a hairs breadth from mine and that she was talking to me. But before her words made any sense to my fogged brain her lips descended on mine.
I felt myself falling backwards onto her bed; felt her hands cup then gently squeeze my breast as her tongue lightly fluttered over my lips as if encouraging them to open. No. This was wrong. This was so wrong, and yet the flame that had been smoldering within me as I had watched her videos and listened to her descriptive narration flared to life like a roaring bonfire. A moan of surrender issued from my lips as they parted allowing her tongue to slither between them.
My hands slid about her to lightly glide over her back before timidly moving around to her breast. But even as my hands did so hers moved feather like down across my stomach to my skirt covered thigh. Harder, more demandingly she began to kiss me as her fingers inched my skirt upward until it was nearly about my waist. Lightly, ever so lightly, that at first I thought it was my imagination, her fingers danced over my inner thighs before moving upwards.
Without thought or inhibition my legs opened to her caresses. A gurgling groan welled in my throat as her fingers touched then began to lightly rub over the dampness of my panties. Shifting slightly I wormed my left hand beneath her then around to the back of her head entwining my fingers in her dark chestnut hair. Then together with pulling her face tighter to mine I began kissing her as hungrily, as passionately as she was me. Like two duelist our tongues thrust and parried before momentarily withdrawing then renewing the attack with even more vigor.
My hand slid from her breast downward to her skirt covered thigh but unlike her I did not gradually work her skirt higher, I simply slipped my hand beneath her little mini skirt and between her legs. For a micro second rational thought broke through the cloud of arousal smothering my brain as her fingers wormed beneath the leg band of my panties searching for then finding my honey dew moistened lips. But the message it tried to convey went unheeded as her finger rubbed over my clit.
A gurgling groan of passion burst from my lips: When had she stopped kissing me? I wondered as she rubbed over my clit before pushing not one but two fingers between my hair lined lips. I could feel her hot breath against my ear, hear her soft taunting words but it took an eternity for what she was saying to make sense as together with her fingers moving in and out of me my hips jerked from the bed to meet them. Taunts of instead of her fingers reaming my nasty smelly snatch black cocks were, of when one had satisfied himself another then another and still another would push their long hard black cock's into me filled my brain.
Her vivid descriptive that I like her would be a black cock whore, that dozens upon dozens of blacks would pleasure themselves with my white body shamed yet thrilled me. Taunts that I would plead, that I would beg to be their slut, their whore; promises that they would grant my wishes, that they would use my mouth, my nasty black cock loving cunt, my asshole whenever and how so ever they wished filled my addled brain to overflowing.
Shamefully in answer to her taunts, her promises my hips jerked and quivered in a dance as old as time and repeated soulful hisses of yes, oh Godddd yessssss issued from between my trembling lips. Margaret's videos flickered on the backs of my fluttering eyelids, but it wasn't her that was being animalisticly, savagely used by score upon score of black men it was me. It was me that was groaning lustfully and repeatedly pleading for them to shove their beautiful black cock's into me as with ever more vivid detail she told how they would.
Then words, visions were lost to me as a blinding light more powerful then if I had looked directly at the sun filled my brain. Minutes, hours later the mush jokingly called my brain began to come to life. Even before I opened my eyes my face flushed in shame at what I had allowed to happen. I dreaded looking at her. Would she mock me? I didn't know. As my eyes slowly opened her face was hovering above me. On her pretty young face was a look of tenderness, of concern, possible even love. Or was it something else that I saw.... lust perhaps?
As my brain pulled itself out of what I imagined a drug induced stupor might be like I realized that she was softly talking but it seemed like an eternity before her words finally began to make sense. No I couldn't take them! If my husband were to find them he would think me sick or perverted, or more then likely both. But her misty eye plea for me to take them, to hide them so that her husband couldn't post them on the internet was more then I could bare and I gave in.
Hardly had we gathered up the photos and then they along with the two disk were secreted in my purse then Robert staggered drunkenly through the door. Thanking them for the lovely evening I rushed from their house without trying to raise suspicion on Robert's part. How I made it home I'll never know for all I could see before me was a replay of what had transpired in her bedroom.
A good part of the next day was spent with Margaret where to my relief not only did she not bring up our lovemaking but I discovered that her husband hadn't missed either the photographs or the DVD's as I had feared would be the case. Then to my shock and surprise she opened her briefcase and took out a large thick envelope along with two other DVD's and pressed them into my hand.
She begged me to take them saying that she had hidden them away months earlier but that now with his threat about the internet he might find them, especially if he couldn't immediately lay his hands on the ones she had already given me. I tried to make her understand that if every photo and DVD were to suddenly disappear not only would he get mad at her but in all probability try to cause trouble for me. But just as she did in her professional life when she heard something she didn't like she ignored what I had said.
Not even my saying that more then likely he had every picture, every DVD on their home computer swayed her. She just simply refused to belief that but for the photographs and DVD's which were now in my possession any copies existed. Then like a stream going round a boulder our conversation took a whole new direction and before I knew it I had agreed to go shopping with her Saturday.
At home that evening when as usual Jonathan didn't arrive home an hour after his business day should have ended instead of eating dinner alone as I was doing more often as of late I retired to our bedroom. Opening my briefcase I took out the latest packet she had given me tumbling its contents onto the bed. The photos were very much like the others that she had given me earlier except that in these she was not always totally naked.
In fact in most of them she was wearing a skirt that was so short that you really couldn't call it such along with a tank top. The ultra short frilly skirt was about her waist and her tank top, even though her arms were still in the sleeves, was flipped back over her head so that her breast hung free. In the few in which she wasn't wearing a skirt she was wearing either a chemise or baby doll that was so sheer, so skimpy as to be almost non existent.
In spite of my being aghast that in each photo no fewer then three negro's were pictured with her I had to admit that the photographs were even more erotic, more arousing then the others had been. Perhaps it was because she was wearing clothes, albeit very skimpy and revealing ones. Or was my arousal because that in each photo it was all to apparent by the toothy grins on the faces of the negro's with her that she was indeed pleasuring them.
Dropping the photo in which she was astraddle one negro with another before and behind her I pulled out then inserted one of the disc into the DVD player. As the DVD started I settled back on the bed where after hiking up my skirt I pulled off my panties. The first DVD concerned a pizza delivery man who, after having pleasured himself, called a dozen of his friends inviting them to do the same. In the second DVD the story line was a little better and involved a seven man lawn care crew.
Understandably the subtle nuances and details of each story line was not fully grasped in my first playing of the DVD's. But after several more viewings each story line was implanted in my brain as surely as if it had been branded there. The latest two DVD's, just as the others were wont to do, not only filled my dreams at night but my lapses at work as well. Sometimes though it was not Margaret's face or body that I saw amongst that scores of negro's, nor was it her lustful moans or wanton pleas that I heard, it was mine.
I knew it was wrong to spend so much time with her but I honestly thought that I was helping her. I mean I was holding photographs and DVD's that she'd said her husband had threatened to post on the internet and as far as I knew she was no longer associating with negro's in any form or fashion. Saturday's became our day together. Most of the day was spent at the mall where together with window shopping, most often in shops displaying skimpy and or provocative clothing without understanding why I modeled different, sometimes downright sinful outfits for Margaret.
That I sometimes bought an outfit that she particularly gushed over was understandable as I wanted to please her. After all for the remainder of our time together on our special day we spent it together in her bed. During both Margaret often teased me about negro's who she insisted were eyeing me as if they wanted to fuck me. Our lovemaking was like nothing I had ever experienced before and I couldn't seem to get enough of her.
It was on our third Saturday together that at her insistence I wore my first mini skirt. It was not one of the run of the mill ones that I had purchased and left in her closet and which I often wore when with her but a truly sinful one. The difference, well the difference was that unlike most of the others which could be worn in public and even at work without men openly propositioning a women the skirt Margaret chose for me was one that a street walker might wear. That she wore one exactly like it somewhat relieved my trepidation about dressing thus in public.
Did I say mini skirt? Let me rephrase its description then. It was a micro mini that was in truth little more then maybe eight inches of cloth that draped from my hips and was so tight as to appear painted on. Forget about wearing a garter belt and stockings such as I normally wore unless you truly wanted to look like a street walker but Margaret had thought of that too.
In their place she presented me with, and which she herself also wore, was a pair of thigh high stockings that were high enough that the skirt just did cover the frilly lace elastic band. As for panties both of us wore a G-string that was little more the a patch of cloth that just did cover our lips.
The ensemble was completed with a blouse which though not so shear as to be transparent was nearly so. Neither of us wore a bra but because I had never done such a thing before I did try several on but in every case they were plainly visible and made me look even more like a woman screaming I'm a slut fuck me. Did I feel sinful? Yes, but not so sinful that when the two of us were walking around the mall that I carelessly, let alone sometimes intentionally, flashed myself as Margaret did.
Never the less she teased me relentlessly. They can smell you Sherri. They're like mongrel dogs that can smell a bitch in heat, and you girl, despite how much I enjoy our time together, and whether or not you want to admit it, need a man. I don't mean that uncaring, ungrateful bastard of a husband that could care less about your needs either. No girly what you need is someone to fuck you silly and there ain't one of them darkies what's been eyeing you that wouldn't want to be the one.
But it was later when with her arms about me holding me tight after a torrid session of pleasuring each other that her softly whispered expletives became much more descriptive. That she was setting me up should have been apparent but what with my almost daily viewing of her pictures as well as her DVD's along with our Saturday love making bouts I was blind to the obvious. In truth though it wasn't just those incidents that were pushing me closer to the inevitable. Part of it, though I didn't want to admit it, was my job.
My constant dealings and closeness with negro men of all ages throughout the week was having an effect on me that I had never before had. At times they had but to smile at me and together with my shoulders quivering slightly as if from a chill a heat such as I hadn't known since my wedding night would flare to life between my legs. At such times visions of him laying atop me, driving his dark cock powerfully even animalisticaly into me would push everything else from my brain.
Yet my first extramarital affair wasn't with a negro, it was with Margaret's husband. It was during our fourth Saturday together. Though Margaret and I again wore truly sinful outfits, they didn't match. The outfit that she picked for me to wear looked more like an abbreviated girl scout uniform then anything else.
The hip hugging pleated micro mini skirt was girl scout green with a white two and a half inch waist band making its total length roughly seven, certainly no more then eight inches. The short sleeve tie front halter top blouse was white with girl scout green collar and cuffs. Was I self conscious as we strolled about the mall, yes. But at the same time the blatant lust filled stares from males ranging from as young as maybe ten to old men so old they shuffled along excited and aroused me. Several times mutterings that if I were selling girl scout cookies they'd buy every fucking one burned my ears and added to the dampness soaking my G-string.
Margaret of course had heard the remarks and had teased me relentlessly. Most of her snickering jibs centered around the negro's mutterings, which in truth were the majority of shoppers. Giggling like a silly teenager she said with me dressed as I was, like a woman looking to get laid, that it was a lucky thing that she was with me to beat off the men.
Then cocking her head toward a group of perhaps seven teenagers that even I had noticed were sneaking glances at us while muttering among themselves she put her lips to my ear and softly whispered especially them horny little shits. Their eyeing you as if they want to take you right here in the middle of the food court and to hell with who might want to watch or join in screwing me after they had all shoved their hard young cock's into me.
Her soft hot breath caressing my ear as well as the vivid scenario she was painting sent a shiver racing up my spine. Hell sweetheart, wouldn't surprise me none if them young Mandigo's weren't trying to figure out a way to get you back to their crib so the other twenty, thirty members of their gang could enjoy your tight white body too. Though I tried to look anywhere but at the youths that she was talking about I could not stop myself from time and again staring at them.
Heat like that of a blow torch held to close to the skin flared from between my legs spreading upward through me. My breath quickened adding to the sensitivity of my nipples against the thin material of my blouse and a soft throaty purr rumbled from my throat as she hissed God damn one of them' just pulled out a cellphone. Come on we better leave, unless of course you want twenty or so young bucks slamming black meat to you.
As she pulled me to my feet and out of the food court flashes of me atop the table, my halter top untied and to either side of my heaving pert breast and my pleated micro mini about my waist as first one and then another the seven black teenagers as well as all their friends were satiated filled my brain. Arousal such as that which I felt when while alone at night I would insert one of her disc into the DVD player surged through me.
Being in public as we were though I could not relieve myself as I did in the privacy of my bedroom and it was beginning to drive me nuts. The dampness between my legs was such that it felt as if I had pissed myself. Not even a trip to the public bathroom were I spent more time then was needed relieved the tension building in me.
The smell of sex wafting about me like a cloud was so strong that I feared others could smell my arousal. But Margaret who more then anyone should have been aware of my predicament seemed oblivious to it. I wanted to go home and if not able to make love to my husband at least relieve myself while watching one of Margaret's DVD's much as I had been doing nearly every night since receiving them. But that outlet was denied me. Still though I knew that relief would come when Margaret and I were once more alone and in her bed.
What seemed like a life time later but in reality was less then a half hour we were in bed and in each others arms. when we finally came up for air Margaret slipped from her clothes but at her insistence with the exception of removing my G-string and untying my halter top I remained clothed. Seconds later I was kneeling between Margaret's legs lapping, tonguing, kissing her smooth sweet smelling pussy while she, between gasp and purrs of pleasure, taunted me about the seven young negro's who had made it all to obvious that they were following us as we had walked about the mall when I felt someone climb onto the bed behind me.
Only Margaret's fingers twisting into my long reddish blond hair prevented me from raising my head and twisting about as a hand ran over my buttocks. For long minutes the hands teased me, toyed with me eliciting muffled gasp of pleasure and arousal while I ever more reverently kissed and lapped Margaret's sweet pussy. A finger then two pushed into my wet opening and began to slowly saw in and out. My breathing increased, became shallow quick gasp as rippling waves of pleasure washed through me.
Not until Margaret's voice demanding that I eat her snatch filled my ears did I realize that I had quit doing so. But even as I renewed my tonguing of her she gasped out he's going to pleasure you Sherri, he's going to stick his big dick in your hungry needy cunt and fuck you like you've never been fucked. Once he rams his big hard dick to you you'll be a slave to his cock for life. Like me you'll be his slut, his fuck toy to use however he wishes. And Sherri, my sweet sweet Sherri, he'll see to it that you get all the nigger cock you could possibly want and then some.
As strange as it might seem even as the hands adjusted my posterior it was not fear that gripped me, it was.... excitement. Though she hadn't said who was behind me in my minds eye I pictured the young negro who had first used her. As my unseen lover pushed the spongy head of his cock to my slit together with a choked gasp of pleasure unimaginable pictures of depravity flashed through my mind.
With a clarity and sharpness as if the image were on a movie screen I saw the young negro kneeing behind me, saw his dark hands adjusting me, positioning me to best use me. But it was the half dozen or so negro's that my minds eye saw standing behind him waiting their turn to use me that even as the head of his cock splayed my lips and entered me sent a small orgasm rippling through me.
My mind screamed at the length and breadth of him as his cock stretched me, pushed deeper into me then even my wildest fantasizes had conjured. But it wasn't a scream of anguish or pain, it was a scream of joy, of glory in knowing that he and countless others of his kind would use me just as they did Margaret to satisfy their lust. With each rhythmic pumping of my lovers loins his long thick cock bored deeper into me and in response my mouth pressed tighter into Margaret's leaking pussy.
Muffled repeated sobs of yes, oh God yes bubbled from my throat as the unseen cock stretched me, sank deeper into me. Margaret's gasp and whimpers of pleasure as my mouth, my tongue, endeavored to give her the same pleasure that I was feeling almost drowned out the gravely voice of the man behind me. Yet my lust addled brain retained enough sensibility to somehow separate and obediently comply with the masculine voices demands.
Together with twisting and rolling my hips I masochistically pushed back to meet the long deep thrust of the cock boring into me. My clit was aflame as with each deep forward thrust the blood engorged hunk of male virility brushed over it. Repeated and intensifying orgasm's rippled through me as together with graveled grunts of oh yea thats it, thats it you nasty cock slut, fuck that dick, fuck it you nasty cum slut issuing from the mans mouth he began to drive ever faster, ever harder into me.
Almost indecipherable moans of pleasure along with whimpers of yes, oh yes baby, use the slut's nasty cunt, cum in her, fill her with your hot jazz baby, do it baby, do it as well as other rambling mutterings issued from Margaret's mouth. As if in response to her taunts and urgings grunts like that of a wild beast came from behind me as along with the mans fingers tightening vise like on my thin waist he thrust into me even faster and harder.
Then suddenly so close it was almost simultaneous, together with Margaret's fingers yanking my hair and grinding her dripping pussy to my face my unseen lover thrust into and held himself to me one last time. As Margaret's juices splashed over my face my lover emptied his hot thick spunk into the burning bubbling cauldron between my legs. A micro second later my brain melted as my own orgasm exploded through me.
Why I didn't collapse like a rag doll when minutes later he pulled from me I don't know. Instead with body still vibrating like a tuning fork from the continuous small orgasms slamming into my brain I wiggled my exposed and cum drenched loins in open invitation for the others to use me. Rambling disjointed mutterings for the next one, for all of them, to fuck me, to fill my white whore cunt with their nigger cum tumbled from my cum smeared lips. But before what I knew for certain was about to happen like a watch whose battery had wound down darkness slowly engulfed me and I collapsed between Margaret's thighs.
The last thing I remember hearing was male laughter and mocking derision that I was a real cum slut, that brothers would be lining up six deep to breed my trashy white ass. Later when consciousness returned and my brain began to function I found myself stretched out facing Margaret. Margaret's arms were about me and so to was the white arm of the lover I hadn't seen. For a moment I lay there in Margaret's arms basking in the glow of a woman throughly satisfied with my lovers limp cum smeared cock pressed against my bottom and then it hit me, white.
Twisting my head I looked back and up into the smiling face of Margaret's husband Robert who was propped up on one elbow. As I stared dumbstruck and disbelieving into his face he snickered suck me Mrs. Rhodes, suck your pimps pleasure giving cock and get me hard so's I can have another go at your tight cock loving snatch as his fingers closed on then began rolling and lightly pinching my left nipple. For a second as consciousness stirred in my brain disappointment followed closely by shame reared its ugly head.
Whether the feeling was because it had not been a negro but Margaret's husband who had so throughly used me I'm not certain. But the thought struck me that if I was going to cheat on my husband it would have been better to have done so with someone other then the husband of my lesbian lover.
More confusing though was that if Robert could please a woman as throughly as he had me how was it possible that a young negro could intimidate him. Had it all been a lie. A ruse to lull me to what they had all along planed until it was to late. As I lay there pondering what to believe it was a moment before I realized that Margaret's eyes were open and that she was smiling at me.
"Are you disappointed Sherri? Are you disappointed that instead of a group of young darkies fucking you it was my husband? Well don't worry my pretty little slut, Robert will see to it that the next time and every time after this it'll be just as you want. But before that happens you need to do as he said, so be a good little slut and roll over. That's it Mrs. Rhodes, that's it you nasty cock whore suck him, make him hard so he can fuck your nasty snatch again."
As I obediently rolled over and after some adjustment took her husband's cum smeared nearly eight plus inch cock into my mouth the thought that I shouldn't be doing this, that I shouldn't be letting the husband of my lesiban lover command me flitted through my brain. Yet slavishly without another word from him, or her for that matter, I sucked, slobbered and kissed his limp manhood until it again stood tall and proud.
Hardly had his hard heavy length slipped from my saliva filled warm mouth then he pushed me onto my back. With a mirth filled chuckle he hooked his arms beneath my thighs while at the same time crawling atop me. Without ceremony, and with my legs wide apart and almost to my breast, with Margaret's assistance he lunged forcefully into me.
As he time and again and repeatedly lunged into me words that like his wife I was his whore to do with as he pleased filled my ears. For a moment my groans of pleasure, of lust at being so soundly fucked and the slapping of naked flesh against naked flesh drowned his words. But then slowly, ever so slowly, through the mush jokingly called my brain his depraved ramblings again came to me.
Guttural rants that like his wife's my nasty cock hungry holes were his to do with as he wished; that like her I would be a cum dump for dozens, for hundreds of niggers and that he would video tape every hard black cock thrusting into me slammed into my brain like a speeding hundred car freight train and shamefully I gasped affirmation.
Not even his promise that my video's would appear alongside those of his wife's on the web site "The Social Worker" which was already up and running stilled my stuttering screams of yes, oh God yes. Nor did they still my pleas for him to make me his slut, his white trash whore to be freely and repeatedly used by countless nigger's of his choosing. A hundred other promises affirming my supplication to him, to willingly, eagerly obey his every wish or command no matter how depraved or demeaning spilled from my lips as time and again and ever more rapidly and harder his powerful long thick cock beat against my womb.
As the nerve sensors in my brain rapidly tripped one after the other like blown circuit breakers at a power station, and brilliant explosions of light like that of whole galaxies winking out of existence, only dimly did I hear his mirth filled chuckle of your gonna be a star Mrs. Rhodes. A God damn black cock loving cum slut star.
Talking to her should have been enough but since I had never been one for confrontation, and soft hearted soul that I am, I took the easy way out. That she took my offer for something other then it was intended is understandable. What had once been an occasional good morning, good night, on my part became a listening board for her martial problems. Problems which even if a tenth of the gossip that was bantered about the office were true, were justified and of her own doing.
Should I have been suspect at her sudden friendship and of the many lunches she bought? At the time no. But looking back on it now I would have to say yes because from taking a couple of her cases I suddenly became her best and dearest friend. Though I did my best not to be critical of her there were a couple of occasions in which after having seen her climb into a car with someone which I knew wasn't her husband I admonished her.
How had I known that the man wasn't her husband? Well for one thing beside his looking like an arrogant gang banger he was black. The first time it had happened she passed him off as the gofer for the mechanic who was working on her car, and naive me knowing that she had indeed taken her car into the garage that day I let it slide. Still though I did let her know that it wasn't seemingly for a white woman to climb into a car with a negro. Especially one as unsavory looking as the young fellow.
When despite my mild rebuke I witnessed her climbing into the same young negro's car several other times, three of which in addition to him there were a couple of other equally unsavory individuals I couldn't constrain myself. I told her that if she was going to act like a loose woman, that if she was going to consort with men of that caliber and ethnicity any friendship that we might of had was finished. I told her that her actions were a reflection on me and I wouldn't stand for it.
For several days neither of us spoke to the other and then one day as I was preparing to leave the office she stopped by. Tearfully she told me that she had never meant to abuse or belittle the friendship I had shown her, and that she just couldn't stand it if we were no longer friends. Yes she understood that her actions had been a reflection on me but at the time she hadn't given much thought to it.
Was she aware of what others in the office were saying about her? Yes, and she would never be able to forgive herself if those same busybodies talked about me in the same vein because of my association with her. Then wrapping her arms about me much as a child would a parent that she knew she had disappointed she sobbed wretchedly begging my forgiveness.
Despite my misgivings as to her sincerity what could I do other then as she asked of me. Yet despite my lack of faith in her sincerity I witnessed no other indiscretion on her part in the days and weeks that followed. In fact she seemed more alive then at any time since I had known her. It was as if a great burden had been taken from her, and I felt justifiably proud of myself for not only having befriended her but also the cause for her change. The one thing that didn't change though was her wearing of those sinfully short skirts.
Thus it was that when despite our age differences, she having only recently turned twenty one and I pushing twenty eight as well as my being her boss, when she invited my husband and I to her home for dinner I accepted. This despite the fact that her husband was a warehouse labour and mine a top level executive and therefore the two of us moved among a different social circles. My husband though wasn't as open to the invitation so it was with no small surprise when at the last moment his secretary called saying that he would be working late.
When several minutes after I had demanded to be put through to him he picked up the phone and without giving me a chance to rant profusely apologized. He muttered something about having to go over a recently rewritten contract that had to be in the clients hand the next day. Then muttering that he probably wouldn't be home until after midnight he told me to go without him.
It wasn't as if that had been the first time his secretary had called to say he was working late. But for it to happen the one time in the five years of our marriage that I had made plans pissed me off to no end. I seriously considered calling Margaret and giving my regrets. But the thought that my doing so would be as equally tacky an action as my husbands had been stopped me from dialing her number.
After making excuses that my husband had to work late, the dinner, which I myself would have been proud of, was surprisingly pleasant. Later as I helped her clean up she gushed about work and how her case load was nearly caught up. When she noticed that I was only listening with half an ear she said forget about him sweetie, men are assholes. Then with a deep sigh as if having come to a decision she muttered that there was something important that she had to talk to me about.
When we moved to the living room Robert excused himself under the guise of letting us girls talk about what girls usually talk about. Hardly a heartbeat after he had walked out the door to have a couple of beers with friends Margaret rushed into her bedroom. Several minutes later she returned carrying a large manilla envelope and handed it to me. As I looked at her questionably her eyes misted and she stuttered please don't hate me but I didn't know who else to show them to.
Had my expression been one of stupid incomprehension as I looked from the envelope to her then back again? I'm not sure but I think it was. Releasing the catch I tipped the envelope up. As what appeared to be no fewer then ten, possibly as many as twelve dozen photographs spilled onto the coffee table a startled gasp burst from my lips. Despite being appalled by the lurid spectacle before me one eye stayed on the photographs as I turned to face Margaret.
Who, when, why tumbled almost whisper like from my lips as turning back to the photos I picked one up. There was no doubt that it had been taken anywhere other then in the very room in which we were sitting. Margaret was on her knees in the midst of five negro's though only three were receiving her attention. Her lips were around the bulbous knob of one dark penis while her small hands were about two others. The remaining two, their penises in their hands, were smiling broadly as if assure in the knowledge that she would soon be pleasuring them.
As the photograph fell from my trembling fingers back onto the coffee table, despite my wanting them to do anything but, I was unable to stop myself from picking up another then another and yet another photograph. In most of the photos there was only one, sometimes two negro's with her, but there were several in which as many as a half a dozen negro's were present.
As each lurid image after lurid image emblazoned itself on my retinas the thing that stood out in greatest detail was the length and girth of the negro's penises. In every case they were no less then twice that of my husbands little three inch penis. Looking at the latest photo which I had picked up: one in which she was again kneeling but this time with mouth open and with her tongue almost touching the mushroom shaped head of the negro's penis I heard myself asking if all negro's were so endowed. The answer when it came was with a lilting dream like laugh.
Over the next half hour I learned that she had taken her first negro lover at Roberts insistence barely three weeks after her marriage to the man. It had all started one night after they had made love. He had told her of a fantasy that he'd had since his teen years, so she, because she loved him, had agreed to fulfill it. It was supposed to have been a one time thing but as I could plainly see it had turned out to be anything but.
Over the next half hour or so she told me that even as she had lain in bed with the negro still atop her he had taunted Robert. She might be your wife white boy but she's my bitch now, my white slut to pleasure myself with whenever and however it pleases me. If your a good little white boy I my even let you fuck her every now and then. But now that your old lady knows what it's like to be black pleasured she might never want your white dick again.
A couple of days later when Robert had had to work overtime the negro had returned, only this time he hadn't been alone. After that there was no keeping him and dozens of his friends away and Robert did nothing to stop them. In fact he took perverse pleasure in watching them use her. But he didn't just watch, he both photographed and video taped their use of her. His perversity was such that now on nights when neither the young negro or any of his numerous friends stopped by he would prowl the bars and ally ways for other negro's.
Recently he found out that some of the porno sites would pay big bucks for such pictures and video's so he had sent them a couple of photographs. Their offer though hadn't pleased him and now he was thinking about making his own web site. He's even come up with a name. He's calling it "The Social Worker." The only thing that's stopping him is that he's not all that bright when it comes to computers. But as soon as he finds someone that can help him set up a pay site he's going to post everything that he has shot.
Videos I hollowly asked. He has videos of you making love with negro's? Hardly had the words left my mouth then she took my hand and led me into the bedroom. Sitting me on the edge of the bed she turned on the large plasma TV then the DVD player. Taking her place beside me she snuggled into my arms like a small child. As I sat stunned and silent watching scene after scene of her with different and sometimes multitudinous negro's she whispered they don't make love to me Mrs. Rhodes, they fuck me.
Her warm breath against my ear sent hot flashes through me as she told how they used her harder and longer then her husband or any white man could ever use a woman. Some she said, had driven their powerful dark cock's into her cunt or ass for nearly a half an hour and in a few cases even longer.
"I'm their white slut to use and pleasure themselves with however they see fit. Their hard, powerful black cock's are stronger then any aphrodisiac, and though I know that they're only using me to satisfy their own lust, the pleasure that they give me in return is worth any shame I might feel in being their cum slut."
Despite my being appalled by what I was viewing as well as her words I could no more tear my eyes from the screen then I could pluck them out. Especially during the times when with a blissful look on her face as a negro or negro's were driving their penises into her like savage beast she would put the DVD in slow motion then descriptively narrate what it had felt like as they had fucked her like a bitch dog in heat before filling her cunt or asshole, and in one case both simultaneously, with their hot thick cum.
By the time Margaret retracted the second disk my breath was coming in quick shallow gasp. I honestly felt as if I were hyperventilating. It took me several minutes to realize that Margaret's face was a hairs breadth from mine and that she was talking to me. But before her words made any sense to my fogged brain her lips descended on mine.
I felt myself falling backwards onto her bed; felt her hands cup then gently squeeze my breast as her tongue lightly fluttered over my lips as if encouraging them to open. No. This was wrong. This was so wrong, and yet the flame that had been smoldering within me as I had watched her videos and listened to her descriptive narration flared to life like a roaring bonfire. A moan of surrender issued from my lips as they parted allowing her tongue to slither between them.
My hands slid about her to lightly glide over her back before timidly moving around to her breast. But even as my hands did so hers moved feather like down across my stomach to my skirt covered thigh. Harder, more demandingly she began to kiss me as her fingers inched my skirt upward until it was nearly about my waist. Lightly, ever so lightly, that at first I thought it was my imagination, her fingers danced over my inner thighs before moving upwards.
Without thought or inhibition my legs opened to her caresses. A gurgling groan welled in my throat as her fingers touched then began to lightly rub over the dampness of my panties. Shifting slightly I wormed my left hand beneath her then around to the back of her head entwining my fingers in her dark chestnut hair. Then together with pulling her face tighter to mine I began kissing her as hungrily, as passionately as she was me. Like two duelist our tongues thrust and parried before momentarily withdrawing then renewing the attack with even more vigor.
My hand slid from her breast downward to her skirt covered thigh but unlike her I did not gradually work her skirt higher, I simply slipped my hand beneath her little mini skirt and between her legs. For a micro second rational thought broke through the cloud of arousal smothering my brain as her fingers wormed beneath the leg band of my panties searching for then finding my honey dew moistened lips. But the message it tried to convey went unheeded as her finger rubbed over my clit.
A gurgling groan of passion burst from my lips: When had she stopped kissing me? I wondered as she rubbed over my clit before pushing not one but two fingers between my hair lined lips. I could feel her hot breath against my ear, hear her soft taunting words but it took an eternity for what she was saying to make sense as together with her fingers moving in and out of me my hips jerked from the bed to meet them. Taunts of instead of her fingers reaming my nasty smelly snatch black cocks were, of when one had satisfied himself another then another and still another would push their long hard black cock's into me filled my brain.
Her vivid descriptive that I like her would be a black cock whore, that dozens upon dozens of blacks would pleasure themselves with my white body shamed yet thrilled me. Taunts that I would plead, that I would beg to be their slut, their whore; promises that they would grant my wishes, that they would use my mouth, my nasty black cock loving cunt, my asshole whenever and how so ever they wished filled my addled brain to overflowing.
Shamefully in answer to her taunts, her promises my hips jerked and quivered in a dance as old as time and repeated soulful hisses of yes, oh Godddd yessssss issued from between my trembling lips. Margaret's videos flickered on the backs of my fluttering eyelids, but it wasn't her that was being animalisticly, savagely used by score upon score of black men it was me. It was me that was groaning lustfully and repeatedly pleading for them to shove their beautiful black cock's into me as with ever more vivid detail she told how they would.
Then words, visions were lost to me as a blinding light more powerful then if I had looked directly at the sun filled my brain. Minutes, hours later the mush jokingly called my brain began to come to life. Even before I opened my eyes my face flushed in shame at what I had allowed to happen. I dreaded looking at her. Would she mock me? I didn't know. As my eyes slowly opened her face was hovering above me. On her pretty young face was a look of tenderness, of concern, possible even love. Or was it something else that I saw.... lust perhaps?
As my brain pulled itself out of what I imagined a drug induced stupor might be like I realized that she was softly talking but it seemed like an eternity before her words finally began to make sense. No I couldn't take them! If my husband were to find them he would think me sick or perverted, or more then likely both. But her misty eye plea for me to take them, to hide them so that her husband couldn't post them on the internet was more then I could bare and I gave in.
Hardly had we gathered up the photos and then they along with the two disk were secreted in my purse then Robert staggered drunkenly through the door. Thanking them for the lovely evening I rushed from their house without trying to raise suspicion on Robert's part. How I made it home I'll never know for all I could see before me was a replay of what had transpired in her bedroom.
A good part of the next day was spent with Margaret where to my relief not only did she not bring up our lovemaking but I discovered that her husband hadn't missed either the photographs or the DVD's as I had feared would be the case. Then to my shock and surprise she opened her briefcase and took out a large thick envelope along with two other DVD's and pressed them into my hand.
She begged me to take them saying that she had hidden them away months earlier but that now with his threat about the internet he might find them, especially if he couldn't immediately lay his hands on the ones she had already given me. I tried to make her understand that if every photo and DVD were to suddenly disappear not only would he get mad at her but in all probability try to cause trouble for me. But just as she did in her professional life when she heard something she didn't like she ignored what I had said.
Not even my saying that more then likely he had every picture, every DVD on their home computer swayed her. She just simply refused to belief that but for the photographs and DVD's which were now in my possession any copies existed. Then like a stream going round a boulder our conversation took a whole new direction and before I knew it I had agreed to go shopping with her Saturday.
At home that evening when as usual Jonathan didn't arrive home an hour after his business day should have ended instead of eating dinner alone as I was doing more often as of late I retired to our bedroom. Opening my briefcase I took out the latest packet she had given me tumbling its contents onto the bed. The photos were very much like the others that she had given me earlier except that in these she was not always totally naked.
In fact in most of them she was wearing a skirt that was so short that you really couldn't call it such along with a tank top. The ultra short frilly skirt was about her waist and her tank top, even though her arms were still in the sleeves, was flipped back over her head so that her breast hung free. In the few in which she wasn't wearing a skirt she was wearing either a chemise or baby doll that was so sheer, so skimpy as to be almost non existent.
In spite of my being aghast that in each photo no fewer then three negro's were pictured with her I had to admit that the photographs were even more erotic, more arousing then the others had been. Perhaps it was because she was wearing clothes, albeit very skimpy and revealing ones. Or was my arousal because that in each photo it was all to apparent by the toothy grins on the faces of the negro's with her that she was indeed pleasuring them.
Dropping the photo in which she was astraddle one negro with another before and behind her I pulled out then inserted one of the disc into the DVD player. As the DVD started I settled back on the bed where after hiking up my skirt I pulled off my panties. The first DVD concerned a pizza delivery man who, after having pleasured himself, called a dozen of his friends inviting them to do the same. In the second DVD the story line was a little better and involved a seven man lawn care crew.
Understandably the subtle nuances and details of each story line was not fully grasped in my first playing of the DVD's. But after several more viewings each story line was implanted in my brain as surely as if it had been branded there. The latest two DVD's, just as the others were wont to do, not only filled my dreams at night but my lapses at work as well. Sometimes though it was not Margaret's face or body that I saw amongst that scores of negro's, nor was it her lustful moans or wanton pleas that I heard, it was mine.
I knew it was wrong to spend so much time with her but I honestly thought that I was helping her. I mean I was holding photographs and DVD's that she'd said her husband had threatened to post on the internet and as far as I knew she was no longer associating with negro's in any form or fashion. Saturday's became our day together. Most of the day was spent at the mall where together with window shopping, most often in shops displaying skimpy and or provocative clothing without understanding why I modeled different, sometimes downright sinful outfits for Margaret.
That I sometimes bought an outfit that she particularly gushed over was understandable as I wanted to please her. After all for the remainder of our time together on our special day we spent it together in her bed. During both Margaret often teased me about negro's who she insisted were eyeing me as if they wanted to fuck me. Our lovemaking was like nothing I had ever experienced before and I couldn't seem to get enough of her.
It was on our third Saturday together that at her insistence I wore my first mini skirt. It was not one of the run of the mill ones that I had purchased and left in her closet and which I often wore when with her but a truly sinful one. The difference, well the difference was that unlike most of the others which could be worn in public and even at work without men openly propositioning a women the skirt Margaret chose for me was one that a street walker might wear. That she wore one exactly like it somewhat relieved my trepidation about dressing thus in public.
Did I say mini skirt? Let me rephrase its description then. It was a micro mini that was in truth little more then maybe eight inches of cloth that draped from my hips and was so tight as to appear painted on. Forget about wearing a garter belt and stockings such as I normally wore unless you truly wanted to look like a street walker but Margaret had thought of that too.
In their place she presented me with, and which she herself also wore, was a pair of thigh high stockings that were high enough that the skirt just did cover the frilly lace elastic band. As for panties both of us wore a G-string that was little more the a patch of cloth that just did cover our lips.
The ensemble was completed with a blouse which though not so shear as to be transparent was nearly so. Neither of us wore a bra but because I had never done such a thing before I did try several on but in every case they were plainly visible and made me look even more like a woman screaming I'm a slut fuck me. Did I feel sinful? Yes, but not so sinful that when the two of us were walking around the mall that I carelessly, let alone sometimes intentionally, flashed myself as Margaret did.
Never the less she teased me relentlessly. They can smell you Sherri. They're like mongrel dogs that can smell a bitch in heat, and you girl, despite how much I enjoy our time together, and whether or not you want to admit it, need a man. I don't mean that uncaring, ungrateful bastard of a husband that could care less about your needs either. No girly what you need is someone to fuck you silly and there ain't one of them darkies what's been eyeing you that wouldn't want to be the one.
But it was later when with her arms about me holding me tight after a torrid session of pleasuring each other that her softly whispered expletives became much more descriptive. That she was setting me up should have been apparent but what with my almost daily viewing of her pictures as well as her DVD's along with our Saturday love making bouts I was blind to the obvious. In truth though it wasn't just those incidents that were pushing me closer to the inevitable. Part of it, though I didn't want to admit it, was my job.
My constant dealings and closeness with negro men of all ages throughout the week was having an effect on me that I had never before had. At times they had but to smile at me and together with my shoulders quivering slightly as if from a chill a heat such as I hadn't known since my wedding night would flare to life between my legs. At such times visions of him laying atop me, driving his dark cock powerfully even animalisticaly into me would push everything else from my brain.
Yet my first extramarital affair wasn't with a negro, it was with Margaret's husband. It was during our fourth Saturday together. Though Margaret and I again wore truly sinful outfits, they didn't match. The outfit that she picked for me to wear looked more like an abbreviated girl scout uniform then anything else.
The hip hugging pleated micro mini skirt was girl scout green with a white two and a half inch waist band making its total length roughly seven, certainly no more then eight inches. The short sleeve tie front halter top blouse was white with girl scout green collar and cuffs. Was I self conscious as we strolled about the mall, yes. But at the same time the blatant lust filled stares from males ranging from as young as maybe ten to old men so old they shuffled along excited and aroused me. Several times mutterings that if I were selling girl scout cookies they'd buy every fucking one burned my ears and added to the dampness soaking my G-string.
Margaret of course had heard the remarks and had teased me relentlessly. Most of her snickering jibs centered around the negro's mutterings, which in truth were the majority of shoppers. Giggling like a silly teenager she said with me dressed as I was, like a woman looking to get laid, that it was a lucky thing that she was with me to beat off the men.
Then cocking her head toward a group of perhaps seven teenagers that even I had noticed were sneaking glances at us while muttering among themselves she put her lips to my ear and softly whispered especially them horny little shits. Their eyeing you as if they want to take you right here in the middle of the food court and to hell with who might want to watch or join in screwing me after they had all shoved their hard young cock's into me.
Her soft hot breath caressing my ear as well as the vivid scenario she was painting sent a shiver racing up my spine. Hell sweetheart, wouldn't surprise me none if them young Mandigo's weren't trying to figure out a way to get you back to their crib so the other twenty, thirty members of their gang could enjoy your tight white body too. Though I tried to look anywhere but at the youths that she was talking about I could not stop myself from time and again staring at them.
Heat like that of a blow torch held to close to the skin flared from between my legs spreading upward through me. My breath quickened adding to the sensitivity of my nipples against the thin material of my blouse and a soft throaty purr rumbled from my throat as she hissed God damn one of them' just pulled out a cellphone. Come on we better leave, unless of course you want twenty or so young bucks slamming black meat to you.
As she pulled me to my feet and out of the food court flashes of me atop the table, my halter top untied and to either side of my heaving pert breast and my pleated micro mini about my waist as first one and then another the seven black teenagers as well as all their friends were satiated filled my brain. Arousal such as that which I felt when while alone at night I would insert one of her disc into the DVD player surged through me.
Being in public as we were though I could not relieve myself as I did in the privacy of my bedroom and it was beginning to drive me nuts. The dampness between my legs was such that it felt as if I had pissed myself. Not even a trip to the public bathroom were I spent more time then was needed relieved the tension building in me.
The smell of sex wafting about me like a cloud was so strong that I feared others could smell my arousal. But Margaret who more then anyone should have been aware of my predicament seemed oblivious to it. I wanted to go home and if not able to make love to my husband at least relieve myself while watching one of Margaret's DVD's much as I had been doing nearly every night since receiving them. But that outlet was denied me. Still though I knew that relief would come when Margaret and I were once more alone and in her bed.
What seemed like a life time later but in reality was less then a half hour we were in bed and in each others arms. when we finally came up for air Margaret slipped from her clothes but at her insistence with the exception of removing my G-string and untying my halter top I remained clothed. Seconds later I was kneeling between Margaret's legs lapping, tonguing, kissing her smooth sweet smelling pussy while she, between gasp and purrs of pleasure, taunted me about the seven young negro's who had made it all to obvious that they were following us as we had walked about the mall when I felt someone climb onto the bed behind me.
Only Margaret's fingers twisting into my long reddish blond hair prevented me from raising my head and twisting about as a hand ran over my buttocks. For long minutes the hands teased me, toyed with me eliciting muffled gasp of pleasure and arousal while I ever more reverently kissed and lapped Margaret's sweet pussy. A finger then two pushed into my wet opening and began to slowly saw in and out. My breathing increased, became shallow quick gasp as rippling waves of pleasure washed through me.
Not until Margaret's voice demanding that I eat her snatch filled my ears did I realize that I had quit doing so. But even as I renewed my tonguing of her she gasped out he's going to pleasure you Sherri, he's going to stick his big dick in your hungry needy cunt and fuck you like you've never been fucked. Once he rams his big hard dick to you you'll be a slave to his cock for life. Like me you'll be his slut, his fuck toy to use however he wishes. And Sherri, my sweet sweet Sherri, he'll see to it that you get all the nigger cock you could possibly want and then some.
As strange as it might seem even as the hands adjusted my posterior it was not fear that gripped me, it was.... excitement. Though she hadn't said who was behind me in my minds eye I pictured the young negro who had first used her. As my unseen lover pushed the spongy head of his cock to my slit together with a choked gasp of pleasure unimaginable pictures of depravity flashed through my mind.
With a clarity and sharpness as if the image were on a movie screen I saw the young negro kneeing behind me, saw his dark hands adjusting me, positioning me to best use me. But it was the half dozen or so negro's that my minds eye saw standing behind him waiting their turn to use me that even as the head of his cock splayed my lips and entered me sent a small orgasm rippling through me.
My mind screamed at the length and breadth of him as his cock stretched me, pushed deeper into me then even my wildest fantasizes had conjured. But it wasn't a scream of anguish or pain, it was a scream of joy, of glory in knowing that he and countless others of his kind would use me just as they did Margaret to satisfy their lust. With each rhythmic pumping of my lovers loins his long thick cock bored deeper into me and in response my mouth pressed tighter into Margaret's leaking pussy.
Muffled repeated sobs of yes, oh God yes bubbled from my throat as the unseen cock stretched me, sank deeper into me. Margaret's gasp and whimpers of pleasure as my mouth, my tongue, endeavored to give her the same pleasure that I was feeling almost drowned out the gravely voice of the man behind me. Yet my lust addled brain retained enough sensibility to somehow separate and obediently comply with the masculine voices demands.
Together with twisting and rolling my hips I masochistically pushed back to meet the long deep thrust of the cock boring into me. My clit was aflame as with each deep forward thrust the blood engorged hunk of male virility brushed over it. Repeated and intensifying orgasm's rippled through me as together with graveled grunts of oh yea thats it, thats it you nasty cock slut, fuck that dick, fuck it you nasty cum slut issuing from the mans mouth he began to drive ever faster, ever harder into me.
Almost indecipherable moans of pleasure along with whimpers of yes, oh yes baby, use the slut's nasty cunt, cum in her, fill her with your hot jazz baby, do it baby, do it as well as other rambling mutterings issued from Margaret's mouth. As if in response to her taunts and urgings grunts like that of a wild beast came from behind me as along with the mans fingers tightening vise like on my thin waist he thrust into me even faster and harder.
Then suddenly so close it was almost simultaneous, together with Margaret's fingers yanking my hair and grinding her dripping pussy to my face my unseen lover thrust into and held himself to me one last time. As Margaret's juices splashed over my face my lover emptied his hot thick spunk into the burning bubbling cauldron between my legs. A micro second later my brain melted as my own orgasm exploded through me.
Why I didn't collapse like a rag doll when minutes later he pulled from me I don't know. Instead with body still vibrating like a tuning fork from the continuous small orgasms slamming into my brain I wiggled my exposed and cum drenched loins in open invitation for the others to use me. Rambling disjointed mutterings for the next one, for all of them, to fuck me, to fill my white whore cunt with their nigger cum tumbled from my cum smeared lips. But before what I knew for certain was about to happen like a watch whose battery had wound down darkness slowly engulfed me and I collapsed between Margaret's thighs.
The last thing I remember hearing was male laughter and mocking derision that I was a real cum slut, that brothers would be lining up six deep to breed my trashy white ass. Later when consciousness returned and my brain began to function I found myself stretched out facing Margaret. Margaret's arms were about me and so to was the white arm of the lover I hadn't seen. For a moment I lay there in Margaret's arms basking in the glow of a woman throughly satisfied with my lovers limp cum smeared cock pressed against my bottom and then it hit me, white.
Twisting my head I looked back and up into the smiling face of Margaret's husband Robert who was propped up on one elbow. As I stared dumbstruck and disbelieving into his face he snickered suck me Mrs. Rhodes, suck your pimps pleasure giving cock and get me hard so's I can have another go at your tight cock loving snatch as his fingers closed on then began rolling and lightly pinching my left nipple. For a second as consciousness stirred in my brain disappointment followed closely by shame reared its ugly head.
Whether the feeling was because it had not been a negro but Margaret's husband who had so throughly used me I'm not certain. But the thought struck me that if I was going to cheat on my husband it would have been better to have done so with someone other then the husband of my lesbian lover.
More confusing though was that if Robert could please a woman as throughly as he had me how was it possible that a young negro could intimidate him. Had it all been a lie. A ruse to lull me to what they had all along planed until it was to late. As I lay there pondering what to believe it was a moment before I realized that Margaret's eyes were open and that she was smiling at me.
"Are you disappointed Sherri? Are you disappointed that instead of a group of young darkies fucking you it was my husband? Well don't worry my pretty little slut, Robert will see to it that the next time and every time after this it'll be just as you want. But before that happens you need to do as he said, so be a good little slut and roll over. That's it Mrs. Rhodes, that's it you nasty cock whore suck him, make him hard so he can fuck your nasty snatch again."
As I obediently rolled over and after some adjustment took her husband's cum smeared nearly eight plus inch cock into my mouth the thought that I shouldn't be doing this, that I shouldn't be letting the husband of my lesiban lover command me flitted through my brain. Yet slavishly without another word from him, or her for that matter, I sucked, slobbered and kissed his limp manhood until it again stood tall and proud.
Hardly had his hard heavy length slipped from my saliva filled warm mouth then he pushed me onto my back. With a mirth filled chuckle he hooked his arms beneath my thighs while at the same time crawling atop me. Without ceremony, and with my legs wide apart and almost to my breast, with Margaret's assistance he lunged forcefully into me.
As he time and again and repeatedly lunged into me words that like his wife I was his whore to do with as he pleased filled my ears. For a moment my groans of pleasure, of lust at being so soundly fucked and the slapping of naked flesh against naked flesh drowned his words. But then slowly, ever so slowly, through the mush jokingly called my brain his depraved ramblings again came to me.
Guttural rants that like his wife's my nasty cock hungry holes were his to do with as he wished; that like her I would be a cum dump for dozens, for hundreds of niggers and that he would video tape every hard black cock thrusting into me slammed into my brain like a speeding hundred car freight train and shamefully I gasped affirmation.
Not even his promise that my video's would appear alongside those of his wife's on the web site "The Social Worker" which was already up and running stilled my stuttering screams of yes, oh God yes. Nor did they still my pleas for him to make me his slut, his white trash whore to be freely and repeatedly used by countless nigger's of his choosing. A hundred other promises affirming my supplication to him, to willingly, eagerly obey his every wish or command no matter how depraved or demeaning spilled from my lips as time and again and ever more rapidly and harder his powerful long thick cock beat against my womb.
As the nerve sensors in my brain rapidly tripped one after the other like blown circuit breakers at a power station, and brilliant explosions of light like that of whole galaxies winking out of existence, only dimly did I hear his mirth filled chuckle of your gonna be a star Mrs. Rhodes. A God damn black cock loving cum slut star.
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