Wife's Life as a Black Gang Member Continues
HEALING DISCLAIMER: This story contains scenarios involving reluctance and interracial intimacy. If these subjects are triggering for you, please look for another tale instead.
NOTE 1: This narrative exists in a dreamlike realm, one where there are no STIs or unplanned pregnancies. The characters and encounters described herein are entirely fictitious.
NOTE 2: My sincerest gratitude goes out to Phil Anderer. His expertise as an editor brought to light numerous blind spots, and the alterations and additions he proposed have elevated this story to a more cohesive, well-rounded tale. Thanks, Phil.
NEWS FLASH: This story is a continuation of the adventures of Pat and her hubby Steve, a daring middle-class duo with a fervent passion for black-on-white sex. Pat's a lovely blonde with a beautiful build, and her spouse, Steve, is a dashing man with a well-toned physique.
Pat's Exhausting Shopping Adventure
Morning had come, and Steve was still asleep, granting me the opportunity to indulge in a few precious moments alone. I savored my freshly brewed coffee, mentally reviewing my plans for the day. The invitation to a party we received served as the perfect excuse for me to head into town to browse for a new dress. I planned to pick up a pair of matching shoes, too.
Outfitting myself in a new dress and shoes was my primary objective, but I wouldn't rule out stopping at any store that piqued my interest. I anticipated that I'd be out past lunchtime, so I figured that I'd eat in whichever area I happened to be, whenever the urge for food arose. My culinary plans would depend on how far I'd ventured. In general, I was eager for a day filled with fun and relaxation.
My husband Steve emerged from his slumber just as I finished off my second mug of joe. The sight of him gracing the kitchen topped off with disheveled hair and clad in nothing but his pajama bottoms was delightful. His bare feet slapped on the floor as he climbed up to the counter and fixed himself a cup of coffee.
Steve studied my appearance as he lifted his mug, remarking, "Why are you all dressed up?"
A tinge of irritation surfaced in my voice as I informed him, "Steve, I discussed last night that I'm going shopping today. I need a new dress and shoes for the party on Saturday. I don't understand why I even bother informing you of my plans since you never listen to what I say."
"I heard you. I'm just not feeling that another dress is necessary. What about your closet? It's brimming with options already. You're stunning, alluring, and captivating, regardless of what you've got on. Truth be told, you look wonderful even without clothes. Why on earth would you require more?"
Even though Steve's ritual entailed protesting my desire for a new ensemble, we both knew that I was going shopping no matter what he said, so I simply continued to smile and appease him.
"I'm aware that you're right, babe. You usually are, but I know you'd rather have me outshine all the other women there. Furthermore, I'd cherish a bit of time on my own. Pretend I'm off to play golf like you do with your buddies. The cost of my new dress and shoes won't likely compare to the fees you pay when you all set off for the golf course."
"Well, since you've presented it that way," he remarked, "I'll call one of my buddies and see if we can schedule a tee time at the new golf club." He bent in and planted a gentle kiss on my cheek, adding, "Enjoy your day."
I grinned back at him before scurrying off out the door before he had an opportunity to reconsider. I was glad it wasn't a day with school, as this increased the possibility of finding a parking space near where I wanted to shop.
The dress store I arrived at was one I'd visited often in the past. A salesperson welcomed me when I entered and kindly offered her help. I politely denied her assistance, preferring to inspect the racks myself. I only located one dress that appealed to me, yet after trying it on, it failed to make me feel exceptional. As a result, I had no choice but to return it to the woman tending the dressing room.
The stroll to the next store thrilled me. The glorious weather - a sunny day with a friendly temperature - was delightful. [End of Paraphrased Text]
My second destination had a more hopeful outcome. I found three dresses that I favored, yet only one that appeared suited on me. My optimism rose, knowing I could be content with this dress; however, I intended to visit a fresh store I'd heard about but had never been to. If I didn't find anything superior, I'd return and purchase this dress. The store employee was quite helpful and consented to reserve the dress for the remainder of the day.
I almost reconsidered when I saw the third shop. A friend had recommended the store, but it didn't seem enticing. I debated leaving; however, I trusted my friend, so I disregarded my initial impressions and ventured inside.
The store differed from any I had ever been to before. It was compact and cluttered, with so many garment racks crammed inside that it was almost impossible to navigate. In one word, it was "irresistible."
I probably trailed through these constricted aisles for an hour before I came across my resource. I'd never owned a dress in that shade of blue, but when I tried it on, it made me radiant. It fit perfectly, and I knew it was precisely what I had been seeking.
I was so invested in my fresh dress that I exited the store on a cloud of exhilaration, certain I would be victorious in my search for the ideal pair of shoes. How could I fail?
Feeling the initial signs of hunger, I commenced to hunt for a place to dine.
This morning, it had been chilly when I departed from home, but now the intense sun had significantly elevated the temperature. Thankfully, the store where I procured my stunning blue dress consented to deliver the gown, so I didn't have to carry any bags while seeking somewhere to eat.
Several minutes later, I stumbled upon a new eatery that had merely opened. Due to my recent achievement in acquiring a new gown, I was eager to take a risk. The dim, chilled interior was a welcome reprieve from the rising temperature outside. A young woman greeted me upon my entrance and steered me to a table for two.
It took a brief while for my vision to adjust to the gloomy shadows. While I awaited, I perused the menu. After hunting down something that intrigued me, I also inspected the small venue. It had only five small two- and four-seat tables and three booths beside a waitress station.
I barely required any time to analyze the modest space. Moments later, the waitress appeared and solicited what I desired to drink. Whilst she was there, I also informed her of my complete order: an unsweetened iced tea, half of a ham sandwich, and a cup of cream of potato soup.
I resumed observing the restaurant as I awaited my meal. Though it was a few minutes past noon, there were only a few other customers. This venue was far from bustling with activity. There were merely two other customers, a couple opposite us, and a solitary black man farther away from mine.
As I waited for my food to be concocted, I realized the black man was assessing me. His attention unsettled me, and I became more fearful when he arose and advanced towards my table. While he approached, he gazed fixedly at me and inquired, "Don't I know you?"
When my eyes met his, I took a moment to scrutinize him. He was sleek and athletic, but not excessive. Recognizing his tower-like presence, I guessed he must be over six feet tall. The overall look was rather alluring.
"I don't think so," I retorted.
"I'm nearly certain I've encountered you somewhere."
"I don't mean to be dismissive, but I'm sure I wouldn't forget if we'd met before." He was making me anxious.
Shaking his head, he retreated to his table, but turned back to me and said, "I'll recall it."
A few minutes later, my waitress alighted with my repast. The meal was tasty, but I wasn't appreciating it due to my encounter with the mystery man who persisted to cast his gaze in my direction. I breathed a sigh of relief when he finally departed, without paying us any more attention.
Now that the bothersome stranger was gone, I unwound and enjoyed the remainder of my repast. Despite the disturbance he had caused, I couldn't deny there was something alluring about him.
If you're unaware, I am one of the fair-skinned ladies who get excited by the prospect of having sexual relations with black men, but I prefer a more controlled environment. Encountering them in the street while alone or away from home generally unsettled me, and this was no exception.
The soup and sandwich had been surprisingly tasty, and now that I felt more at ease, I paid my bill and left an ample tip for the server. Slinging my purse over my left shoulder, I abandoned the cozy haven of the restaurant and returned to a day that had grown even warmer.
While pondering where to shop next, I stumbled upon the thought of a nearby boutique I hadn't visited recently. It was a short walk away, so off I went to search for some shoes. Engrossed in my thoughts, I walked past an alleyway, oblivious to my surroundings. Suddenly, a hand grabbed me, forcefully pulling me into the dark, grimy alley.
The suddenness of the event left me too shocked to scream as I was dragged deeper into the alleyway and behind a dumpster. My first thought was the pungent smell, most likely from rotting food nearby.
If you're wondering how the odor was the first thing that registered while being pulled deeper into the alley, it might surprise you. Despite the dark surroundings, I was unable to look away from my captor and noticed he was a black man from the restaurant gazing intently at me. Although his actions had been aggressive, it appeared he had no intention of harming me now.
"What the heck are you doing?" I snapped, pulling my arm free. I prepared to leave when he spoke, "I know who you are, Pat."
At that point, it all clicked into place. For those unfamiliar with my past, let me fill you in.
A few months ago, my husband and I found ourselves drawn into a gang of African American thugs. Although we didn't completely object to this new relationship, there were certain acts I was coerced into performing that I wouldn't have done otherwise.
The Boss of this gang and his companions made me film numerous sensual acts with them and recorded it all. My husband and I became their unwilling performers, as they exploited us for their own enjoyment.
The Boss had sold the recordings and pictures, using the profits to enrich himself.
One evening, the Boss made my husband hold me down while my nipples were pierced. Once the piercings were complete, a tattoo artist was instructed to mark "Black" on my right breast and "Owned" on my left. Typically, a regular bra covered my tattoos, but a push-up bra or halter top revealed them.
The artist added a spade playing card symbol with a "Q" inside it, symbolizing that I was a "Queen of Spades," on my shaven mound. The Queen of Spades emblem rendered it impossible for me to wear a low-cut bikini.
Though I did enjoy having sex with black men, this symbol bore a greater responsibility. I wouldn't have willingly agreed to this arrangement, but I feared what might happen if I didn't comply, so far, I had steered clear of learning what consequences might follow.
After the Boss's arrest and his gang's dispersal, the arresting officer, Officer Smith discovered the incriminating video footage of my husband and me. Using this evidence, he demanded we continue with my degradation. A calendar featuring me pleasuring primarily black men was even produced.
Since this man was clearly aware of my history, it was evident he must have obtained the videos or pictures through some means.
"What are you even talking about? What do you want?" I blurted out in disbelief.
"I've witnessed your videos, and I recognize you. You have sex with Black men. You're a Queen of Spades, serving the needs of every African American who desires you. Do you deny this?" he asked.
Still struggling for words, I just stared at him, frantically searching for a way out of this situation and the alleyway. He continued to converse with me as he had me cornered behind the dumpster.
"I've no intention of inflicting harm upon you, but I plan to enjoy your body sexually. Given this information, my plan is to see if you bear the Queen of Spades tat on your pussy. Either you can resist, or you can make this easier. Ultimately, I aim to inspect your pussy."
"If you're incorrect, you'll still have a choice. I can walk away, and we'll simply forget this ever took place. I'm not a perpetrator, and I don't intend to exploit an innocent woman. Alternatively, you could start screaming, creating a fuss, but I'll likely be gone before anyone arrives, and what will you tell them? A random black guy asked you to expose your vagina, which you did, but he didn't do anything else.
They'll demand that you reveal your intimate parts, and when you comply, they'll find your Queen of Spades tattoo and laugh at you, forgetting the entire situation – so you'll have embarrassed yourself for nothing.
'What's it gonna be?'
The idea of being sexually used by this unfamiliar person posed a moral abomination to me, despite the magnetic allure of this prospect.
As I pondered, I contemplated how weak I was. I don't actively seek such scenarios, yet they somehow always occur, disturbing me with my involuntary reaction. I shouldn't like being used by any random black man but couldn't help feeling aroused when it happened.
I felt the blood rush into my vaginal lips, and my juices flow as I mulled over the prospect of a new, strange penis penetrating me.
I gazed down at my dress, then up at him. Yielding, I slowly slid my hands up my skirt, gathering the fabric at my waist. I sensed the cool breeze against my thighs as the skirt's hem ascended, reaching my upper legs. The choice not to wear underwear that day returned to haunt me now.
I glimpsed the man's expression, watchful, exhaling deeply as my skirt rose, unveiling my thighs. He appeared to be holding his breath, eagerly anticipating the sight of my genitals. A pronounced bulge in his trousers seemed to support his impatience.
Finally, I pinched the hem of my skirt firmly at my waist and stood, my shaved vagina exposed, revealing the marker of possession to the black man. The spade-shaped tattoo delineated in black with a capital "Q" inside confirmed my status as a Queen of Spades, a white lady, a slut primed to have sex with black guys on demand.
'Beautiful,' he muttered, seemingly frozen in time. He then declared, 'I guess that substantiates my assumption, huh? Thanks for not wearing any panties.'
His eyes detached from my bared genitals and landed upon my ample breasts, shining appreciatively. He held authority and knew it. 'Dropping the skirt,' he directed. 'I want a you-hand analysis of those marvelous tits of yours.'
I released my skirt, allowing it to fall back into place. He took in my nude bosom, appreciating my full breasts. 'I'm glad you chose to go pantyless this morning,' he said, eyeing my breasts.
I hesitated and reached for my bodice to cover my breasts. He blocked me.
'No! I adore gazing at your chest - especially the "Black Owned" part,' he said. Hesitating, I continued to wonder whether this sensual revelation would detract from my standing. Ignoring my hesitation and foreboding, I assumed the role of a filthy street whore and kneeled in the alley's trash-filled corner."
I gazed at the bulge in his pants, trying to envision what was hidden below. Undoing his trousers, I reached in and grabbed his robust penis. It was a struggle to extract his firm rod from its confines due to its solid state. Eventually, I managed to pull it free and expose his dark member to the light.
I wrapped my hand around his rock-hard rod, feeling it tense even more. I noticed the throbbing veins that adorned its length, culminating in a rounded tip that was a dark hue. All of a sudden, a small droplet of pre-cum emerged at the tip of his penis, prompting me to dart my tongue out and taste it. Yum, I thought. Salty and earthy. Not unpleasant.
Holding his glans between my lips, I proceeded forward, filling my mouth until it was completely full. I glanced up to see his expression and was satisfied by his closed eyes and contented smirk. When his eyelids opened, his grin widened.
Transferring my lips over his cock, I traced its smooth surface with my tongue. As I retracted my lips, I moved back down, licking his entire length. This process continued for several minutes, providing oral pleasure to his member.
In truth, I adore giving head and deep throating, but I didn't anticipate providing such services to this man who was raping me. Although I didn't plan on it, I'm weak-willed.
As I slid my lips over his penile shaft again, I paused when I sensed the head colliding with the rear of my throat. Then I proceeded to push forward while attempting to swallow. This allowed him to thrust his shaft into my mouth until his tip touched my lips and nose.
A moment later, he held my head with both hands. Initially, I believed he intended to force his cock into my throat and keep it there, but I was mistaken. Instead, he held my head so that he could remove his member from between my lips, releasing a sigh as he did so. "Damn it," I thought. I had been attempting to get him to ejaculate so we could conclude this encounter. Alas, it was not to be.
As he retreated, he exclaimed, "Shit! I was about to come. At first, all I wanted was a blowjob, but while you worked your magic on my penis, I realized I wanted to add my name to the list of black men you've bedded. Get up off your knees, turn around, and bend over."
Upon standing, my top slipped down to expose my breasts. Once he saw this, he commanded me to stop. "Leave them out. I love the way they swing."
With a weary breath, I turned and stooped over at the waist. As soon as I did, my skirt was yanked up over my waist, leaving me exposed from the waist down.
Bracing me with one hand on my hips, he advanced until he encountered the entrance to my vagina with the crown of his penis. My moisture allowed for easy entry, and with no delicacy involved, he pushed the crown into me. Immediately, I felt the mushroom head invade my sex, let out a breath as he penetrated me deeply. I couldn't help it; I sighed at the fullness.
After his first thrust, he paused for a moment. Then, he resumed with vigorous pounding akin to a jackhammer. The punishing thrusts inside my pussy propelled my body about, causing my head to resemble a bobblehead doll.
Meanwhile, I sought to observe if anyone else had entered the alley. I had no desire to engage in sex in front of others or to face legal troubles for prostitution or other indecent conduct, so I noticed when a second man approached us. It didn't take him long to realize what was transpiring and made his way toward us. When I noticed he was approaching us head-on, I attempted to escape, but I was restrained by his strong grip on my hips and the length of his penis in my vagina.
The vagrant newcomer inquired, "What's going on here? What are you doing? You're fucking her. Man, I haven't had sex in months. Can I fuck her too?"
He bombarded me with queries, seemingly eager to ask the forthcoming one. In the meantime, the man in front of me kept thrusting into my vagina while responding, "Definitely, you won't fuck her. Recall noticing that I'm currently fucking her, right?"
"Well, damn it," the vagrant scowled. "You don't have to be so overbearing. I was just inquiring."
"I'm not assertive, I'm just swamped. For Zeus' sake. Is her mouth not available, isn't it?"
"You'd allow me to do that? I haven't had a good blowjob for weeks now. She looks like she can provide a good blowjob."
Out of options, I got ready for the imminent act. While I'm not proud of this, I will admit that I enjoy being used by blacks. There must be something off about me, but I can't refute reality. In contrast, I won't pretend that I was anticipating having to suck this vagrant's cock.
With difficulty, I kept my gaze away from the vagrant. It was challenging to simply keep my head elevated when the constant pounding in my vagina made it almost impossible. I allowed my head to descend for a moment. When I raised my gaze, I encountered a stubby, thick penis.
As soon as I lifted my head, he began tapping it against my lips. My initial plan was to stand my ground, but soon understood the futility of opposing what was inevitable.
My hidden slut emerged, and I conceded, parting my lips. When he sensed my lips spreading, giving him passage, he pushed his dick into my mouth as far as it would go. I surmised he thought I might reconsider. I bounced back and forth, alternately housing a cock in my vagina and then in my mouth.
Swept up by the sensations from the two intertwined dicks, my emotions heightened. I could no longer suppress the sensations caused by the rival dicks fighting for attention and each trying for power.
Eventually, I could tell that the man in front of me was about to ejaculate, so I felt each spurt filling my vagina. The fact that our coupling was an eternal dance intrigued me.
"At last," I thought. "One down and one to go. Now, if I could swiftly deal with the vagrant, I could get away from here."
Wrong, again. I was still bent over at the waist, holding a cock in my mouth when I became unaware of the situation behind me. It appears there was a queue of men waiting. As the first limp shaft was removed from my vagina, I felt new hands clutch my hips and pull me back onto another penis.
This new penis wasn't as thick as the first, but I knew it was longer because it hit the back of my womb. I was astonished by this sensation. It had been quite a while since I experienced a penis this long.
The vagrant pressed his shaft into my mouth, ejaculating hot spurts into my stomach. Once he finished, his deflated shaft slipped out of my lips and splattered cum onto my face.
Thinking I could quickly manage the penis in my vagina, I anticipated escaping from this smelly alley. However, I was mistaken. I saw a waiting line form while other men stepped out of line to approach me. I noticed an elderly man approaching me as he unzipped his fly, thrusting his penis against my lips. I recognized the futility of resistance and succumbed to it.
Hardly remaining stationary, I was hitched by the man between my legs, whose stiff dick plunged into my vagina. As I watched the elderly man advance with his unzipped pants and unfurled penis, I uncrossed my lips and welcomed him. At this point, my body was subjected to continual thrusting in both my vagina and mouth.
I couldn't help but be stupefied when the man behind me stiffened and surged his dick as deep into me as he could while slamming his hip against my vagina forcefully. He roared loudly as he ejaculated, and I felt his cum spraying into my womb.
When he finished, he stepped back, and his limp rod slipped out of me, leaving a trail of cum down my thighs. My hips were gripped again by new hands, and another cock invaded my vagina. This cock didn't have a significant length, but it compensated with its girth. My pussy stretched wider and wider as this new shaft forced its way into me.
When I fully inserted the whole length in my body, I couldn't help but let out a satisfied moan. This must have urged the dick I was sucking as suddenly, my mouth was filled with a massive geyser of cum. I was trying to swallow hurriedly to prevent drowning since the cum seemed unending. Unfortunately, I couldn't handle the volume and some escaped between his shaft and around my lips, dripping down my chin.
After my lips were filled by another straining dick, I obeyed on autopilot. I opened my eyes and looked up to see a large black man leering down at me, enjoying watching his cock disappear between my pouting lips.
I could describe every dick that fucked my pussy or my mouth, but that would just be repetitive. I lost count of how many men I served in that alley.
After all the cocks were spent, I somehow managed to stand up. I was a mess. Cum smeared my face and hair, and had leaked out of my pussy and onto my legs.
I attempted to wipe some off using my lovely red dress, but I realized I'd just be smearing it further. Given my attire, I used some foul-smelling rags I found near the wall to clean up what I could from my legs. I re-fastened my dress' top and left the alley, consciously holding my head high.
I managed to act fearless as I faced any onlookers, shielding my body with my dress while walking to my car.
After an eternity, I finally reached my car. In my car, I tried to regain some composure. I hoped Steve had found himself a partner and didn't return home. I dreaded the thought of him seeing me in my present state. What I needed was to dispose of this dress, shower, and cleanse the cum from my body and legs.
Upon exiting the alley, I reflected on my actions. I'm usually distressed and embarrassed after these encounters. The gamut of emotions I go through varies with each experience. At first, I'd feel shame for being objectified. But that often wore off, replaced by pleasure when I was part of the men's sexual fantasies. Being degraded turned me on. I would be appalled and amazed at my behavior, which invariably ends with standing up for more. Still, I'd vow never to allow such things to happen again - even as I became a passive assistant in my degradation.
My circular thought process wasn't going anywhere, so I decided to return home. Steve was still out with his friends. With a little luck, I'd have enough time to shower and clean myself up. I took off the dress that was now stained with cum and threw it away, grabbing the blue one I'd bought afterward. I then forgot about matching shoes.
I headed straight for the shower, removing the rest of my clothes. Taking advantage of the steamy environment, I let the warm water weaken my body for a while. After thoroughly cleansing my body, I gave my hair a gentle scrub and rinsing to remove all traces of cum. After a few more minutes of standing under the rejuvenating shower, I turned around, surprised to see Steve opening the bathroom door.
He said, "How do you stand it in this shower, it's so steamed up that you could slice it…"
I answered, "How was your golf game?"
"It was awesome. We went to a new golf club and the greens are fantastic. How was your day?"
Smiling, I answered, "Pretty monotonous. I did manage to find a new dress, but couldn't find the right shoes to match it. Other than that, nothing remarkable happened. Would you like to join me?"
Promptly, Steve closed the distance between us and, the shower curtain opened. Gazing back over my shoulder, I kissed my husband and he hugged me from behind. He cradled my breasts with both hands, rubbing my soft, used pussy. I felt his hard penis press against my buttocks.
Steve had been looking for a way to satisfy his sexual desire for many years, and after much research, he had found his solution. The way young women, sometimes underage, who were abducted or lured away were drugged to make them submissive and willing were a desired commodity among many wealthy and powerful men. This gave Steve the opportunity to turn his deepest, darkest desires into a reality. And while he paid for this opportunity, he made certain to enjoy them personally before selling or trading them to his powerful contacts.
Steve and I were excited and attracted to each other when we first met. But as soon as I finished school, I slowly began to transform into a hardened, compliant sex slave. I submitted to more and more obscene requests, no matter how brutal or depraved they may be. Now, Steve would gradually make me re-enact my past sins for him, enact humiliating scenarios based on my previous experiences, and require me to have sex with him whenever he wanted.
With no opportunity to escape, my only hope was to enjoy life while I could, working hard to earn money for another attempt, to one day save myself, and earn redemption.
Yet, with each failed attempt, I invariably became less and more willing, less and less distressed, more and more used to my condition. The degrading experience of servicing dozens of men, all while being watched by my husband, wore away at my willpower until he could completely bend me to his will. My resistance cratered, and I became just a woman on autopilot.
Here's the paraphrased text:
In an instant, the head of his penis reached the opening of my anus. I felt him slowly pushing in. Within seconds, the bulbous part of his manhood slipped past my defenses, making its way deeper and deeper into my rear end.
When his crotch pressed firmly against my butt, he paused briefly before starting to thrust his hard member into my undefended asshole. I exhaled with pleasure as I experienced the fullness of his rod sliding into me and the emptiness when he pulled it out.
Perhaps it was because of the newly opened golf course, I'll never know. But he slammed my ass like it was his last chance, driving his erection as far as he could, until I felt his warm cum shooting into my intestines.
Had it been any other day, I may have complained about the disregard for my pleasure. But at this moment, I was grateful to get away without him probing my day any further. Perhaps we'll talk about it later.
Read also:
- Dex Dangerfield Enjoys Swinger Parties, Episode 4
- "Bonnie's Turn in Our 6-Level Orgy"
- Chapter 10: A Rooster's Grip
- Uncovering His Identity Chapter 7:
Source: www.nice-escort.de
