This chapter contains some racially provocative statements, specifically in regards to interracial pornography. The views expressed remain those of the characters only, for the purpose of narrative flow, and do not constitute a true reflection of the author’s personal opinion or viewpoints. I apologize for any offense that may be taken, as assuredly none is intended.
Also, this story has major themes of humiliation play and Dominant/submissive interactions that may not appeal to every individual taste, and do not necessarily reflect genuine D/s lifestyles. It is a work of erotic fantasy only. If you find this is not for you, feel free to move along. For the rest, I hope you enjoy.
The whole is a first-draft work in progress, so I am certain some developmental issues will arise as the story progresses. I will certainly try to ensure that character arcs and interactions maintain some level of authenticity as I go.
The Sunday morning after that one fateful evening, I woke to an unanticipated occurrence, something that had not happened in the past twenty years of my life.
“Eww!” cried Lynnette, also waking to something quite unexpected.
As the normal, healthy couple we have always been, we share a bed, and even after an hour or pornography and watching my wife masturbate, I assured her it would be safe to let me join her under the covers. Bottom line: I agreed not to rape her in her sleep. I do like to cuddle, though, and evidently that can pose quite a problem when one of the participants is still horny as hell.
After cleaning my dripping erection—carefully so as not to erupt and have to wait even longer for sex—I selected pajama bottoms at least in an effort to keep my aching desire contained somewhat. Lynn, on the other hand, after stripping and showering, came to bed in nothing but a long sleep shirt. Her panties I laid reverently on my nightstand. Still, I managed to cuddle my loving wife all night, kissing and caressing but holding back from dry humping her leg. She returned my affections but insisted no sex, and eventually we fell to sleep in one another’s arms.
Waking, for us both, proved decidedly alarming.
“Gross,” she said, rolling away from me and slipping out of bed. She pulled back the covers, taking me farther from my dreams, and made a face while wiping her hand on the sheets. “You’re cleaning that,” she stated matter-of-factly.
Catching up to the moment, I discovered that, through no fault of my own, I had ejaculated in my sleep. Apparently all over her leg by way of the opening in my pajamas. Though we both managed to see the humor in the situation, Lynn found the need to shower herself almost immediately while I set about changing the bedding.
“So, no porn career for you,” I quipped when she emerged from the bathroom, recalling several images from the night before.
She smirked, flipping the towel at me and making for the dresser.
“You know, I do cum inside you,” I said, bundling the towel in with the dirty sheets. “When we have sex that is.”
“Yes. Into a condom,” she said, sliding into her underwear. It wasn’t as racy a pair as the night before, but I would never complain about a woman in any set of panties, even plain cotton ones.
“You know,” I said, “I didn’t realize it was that big a deal for you. You seemed pretty okay with watching it last night. It’s not like I came in your mouth or anything.”
“Totally gross,” she said, adjusting her bra into place. “And that’s completely different. Those women get paid for that.” She sat down to don her socks. “Frankly, I don’t know how they can do that. Especially with so many different guys.” She shuddered her shoulders. “And on their faces? I would never allow that, so don’t even think it.” She gave me a stern glare. “Those women were swallowing that stuff. Why is that even a thing? Why do guys even think that’s sexy?” She held her hands in exasperation as she rummage through her T-shirts.
“I don’t know,” I said, thinking about it. I knew that I for one found it sexy. Or at least highly arousing. “Maybe it’s just a fantasy we all have.”
“But why is that a fantasy?” she asked. “It’s like, here, let me piss on you. Isn’t that so hot?”
“Well, that is for some,” I countered.
She looked at me. “Gross. Uck. Gross.” She shook her head. “You watch way too much porn then.”
I started to feel nervous, like a whole can of worms had spilled out on the bed. “I mean, not me, but some people.”
She stopped, took a moment to pull a shirt on. “I’m sorry. I’m just expressing my opinions. Everyone has a right to what they like. I told you, I’m not going to judge you.”
I started putting the fresh pillowcases out. “No, seriously. I don’t have that fantasy. Honest.”
She smiled. “I know. I believe you. But…you do seem to have a peculiar fascination…” She let her voice trail as she searched for the right pair of jeans.
I fluffed my pillow, put it down. “What do you mean?”
“Oh rus escort come on,” she said. “I thought it was pretty damn obvious. I mean it was practically right in your face every time you looked.”
I slid her pillow into the new case but said nothing. I did not feel at all comfortable about where this conversation was ready to go.
She made a face, waiting for me to respond. “You want me to say it?” She took my silence as affirmation apparently. “Those cocks were huuuge. I mean even for normal guy standards.” Ouch, that stung. “How do those guys even walk? How do they get an erection without getting light-headed?” She paused to bounce into her jeans. “I didn’t think they were real at first, like some kind of special effect or camera work maybe. But, no, those are real. Some of those guys must be like, what, eleven, twelve inches?” Maybe even longer, I grumbled inside. “That’s like twice the size of a normal dick.” And three times the size of mine.
Lynn buttoned her jeans. She must have seen something in my face. “Aw, honey.” She came over, got up on the clean covers and folded her legs. She pulled me to sit next to her, taking my hand. “I’m not poking fun. Honest. I would never do that. I’ve told you every time, size does not matter as much as you think it does. It’s what you can do with it that counts. Trust me. And when you want to, you have no problems in that department.”
I felt a tiny burst of encouragement from that, but the subject aggravated me nonetheless. I just wished she would drop it. Knowing you were small was one thing. Knowing other people knew you were small, that felt way worse.
“But really,” she said, trying to catch my eyes. “Why do you do that then? I mean, I know you’re self-conscous about it on your own. You can’t hide that fact. Why would you purposely watch porn with such big dicks in it? Why do that to yourself? Doesn’t it make you more self-conscious?”
I shook my head, but I sat next to her. “I don’t know,” I mumbled. I tried to make sense of it sometimes, but I never really gave it so much energy as to reach an answer. I just knew I enjoyed it. “I don’t know what it is.”
Lynn frowned. I could tell she was really invested in this. That alone felt pretty good to me while at the same time making my nerves panic. “Is it a rascist thing? Is it just because they’re black? I’m sure there are some white guys with big cocks too.”
“No. It’s not that.” I shrugged. “Well, maybe a little. I don’t know. It could be rascist, but not in the way you think. It’s hard to explain.”
She gave me a smile. “That’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got no plans. Maybe we can work it out together.”
Wow. That was heartfelt. I wanted to hug her. But I also just wanted to run away. I propped a pillow and sat against the headboard.
“Well, I do have different interests, you know, not just black cock.” She gave me a ‘go on’ look. “But as far as BBC goes”—a gave her the air quotes—”I think it’s just more about the feel of masculinity. I mean, you know me. I’m never gonna get there. But porn is escapism, right? I suppose it’s like reading a book or watching a movie. The hero is always bigger and badder than anything in real life. And let’s face it, porn is just about sex really. So what better way for a guy to express sex than with the biggest, baddest cock he can imagine? Whether it’s rascist or not, I think the black part just gives it a meaner, rougher edge, at least subconsciously. Something more primal maybe.” Wow, I surprised myself. I guess I did manage to explain that pretty succinctly.
Of course I immediately frowned. “Yeah. Hearing that out loud, I guess that is pretty rascist actually, when it comes right down to it. But hey, they’re the ones having sex. That should be some consolation.”
“I don’t think it works that way.” She smirked.
“I know. But think about it. Just one of those actors. Just think of all that pussy he gets, and he doesn’t even have to work for it.”
She squinted a bit. “Um, actually, I think he is working for it.”
“You know what I mean.” I huffed. She stretched out, propped her head on one hand.
“So…it’s cock envy?” she asked.
Maybe. But I thought that was women being envious of men. “Maybe you could call it that,” I admitted. “I guess it is envy. But that’s the real point though, isn’t it? It’s not just a fantasy. Sure, for me it is. Something I’ll never get. But for them, it’s very real. Those guys get to fuck a different women every day almost. All because they have a great big cock. Puny guys like me, we just get…” I trailed off.
Lynn huffed. “What? Me? You get stuck with me?”
“No. That’s not what I meant. Ugh!” I tilted my head back in frustration, bumped the wall. “Ow.”
She just chuckled. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re just frustrated. I understand.” I really did not deserve her. “But I’m glad you’re talking. I’m glad you trust me enough to air it out like this.” She glanced sincan escort over to the bathroom door, tilted her head a moment. “Here. Let’s try something.”
My nerves jumped as my wife hopped off the bed. Last time she had that much energy in her step she had instructed me to get the porn ready. She entered the bathroom, opened the cabinet. A few seconds later she came back out, a bottle of skin lotion in one hand, a hand towel in the other. “Take your pants off,” she said.
What? I sat dumbly a moment. “What?”
“Come on. Get your pants off. Do it for me.” She bounced on the bed beside me, stretching out on her belly. She propped herself on her elbows and waited.
Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, I stood up. “Why? What are you planning?” I remained highly skeptical after last night.
“Just do it,” she insisted. “Drop your drawers.”
“But I didn’t really wash up yet,” I reminded her. “I only just toweled off with a washcloth.”
“Don’t worry.” She smiled up, as gorgeous as ever. “I’ve had all my shots,” she joked. “Just do it. Pants off. Underwear, too. Lay back down, right here.” I complied, however slowly. I really was unsure where she was going, though I had a pretty good idea. I knew, though, just like the previous evening, there had to be a catch.
“I thought we said no sex,” I said. “This isn’t gonna count against me, is it? This isn’t some trick.”
“Yes,” she said with deadpan. “A real devious one. Your wife is going to jerk you off and all you have to do is thank her when you’re done.” She shook her head. “Just lay down, silly. I promise I won’t hold it against you. We’ll just call this one a freebie. We can start again from today, nothing lost.”
Still hesitant, I stretched out on my back, sans pants. Lynn rolled up my shirt hem so my belly was exposed as well. With a pillow under my head, I looked down my body, pale but trim, saw my shrunken little nub only pushed up as it was by my scrotum. After my nocturnal release, even all the talk of porn stars and cocks hadn’t given it a stir.
Lynn adjusted herself beside me, the mattress bucking slightly until she settled. Then she popped the top of the lotion, squirted some into her hand. “Just relax,” she said. “Look up at the ceiling. Or better, just close your eyes.” She touched my flaccid dick, the lotion much colder than the warmth of her hand. “Don’t think about me. Don’t think about what I’m doing. Just enjoy the sensation.”
I closed my eyes, put my hands beneath the pillow. For some reason, my naked legs felt awkwardly positioned, though they were nothing more than stretched out as normal. I felt Lynn’s hand caressing my cock, sliding the lubrication up and down and around. Her fingers moved slow and deliberate, and the sensations were indeed well received; but something still was not happening.
My cock remained soft, as if cumming in the night had used up all my energy. Her stroking felt good, but I was missing that tingle I knew would soon get me standing fully erect. My wife had not touched me like this in over a month—had rarely given handjobs at all—so I should be ecstatic, my body should be eager. As her hand moved, I struggled to focus, strained to get my cock to react, but for whatever reason it refused. It stayed little more than a limp flesh. I could feel the pleasure of her grip sliding over the sensitive glans, but I could not get hard. I cursed myself for how often this happened.
Truthfully, this was one of the primary reasons were were falling into such a difficult sex life. When those moments came, I sometimes could not get it up. Pathetic, I knew, especially considering how much I desired my wife; but this was the reality. Even in the middle of sex I sometimes lost my erection. It just faded away before I could finish, and well before I could successfully satisfy her. She loved me, I knew, and we did manage to make love, though with less and less frequency. And this was exactly why Lynnette had settled upon abstinence as the answer.
Her hope was that I would work myself up without cumming for a full month, and then I would be raging hard by the time we finally made love again. Like I was last night. The only problem now was that I felt the weight of expectations pushing me down. I knew that if I did manage an erection, it would not last long. That was more embarrassing than having a short dick even. On top of a small penis, I had limited stamina when it came to sex. How could I ever hope to satisfy the love of my life if I popped like a cork every time the sex got even remotely heated? How had I managed to keep this beautiful woman beside me as long as I had?
“Where are you?” she said to me, interrupting my turmoil of thoughts.
My eyes flashed open. “In the bedroom,” I said. “I’m with you.”
“That’s just it,” she said. “Don’t be. I don’t want you here. Don’t think about me. Don’t think about us.” Her hand slid slowly up and down, her grip tugging at my sıhhiye escort flesh as if she intended to pull it off. “Get out of your head. Think about porn. Think about whatever you think about when you masturbate. Go there. Let me do this for you. I’ll be your hand. You just fill in the rest.”
Okay. I could do that. Simple, right. Just relax. I did my best to give in, to fall into the rhythm of her hand’s movement. It was just being rubbed by someone else. I could do this. Someone else was taking control. Someone else was in charge. Yeah. That felt right.
Incredibly, my dick started to swell.
“There. That’s good. Just like that,” she said, cooing just above a whisper. The strokes were soft and slow, and my dick filled more with every thrust. I kept my hands and feet still, pretending they were bound. A had a hard one at last.
“Where are you?” she whispered. “What are you thinking about?”
No. Oh no no no. “How much I miss you,” I said.
“No,” she said. “Not that. What are you thinking? What else is going on in your mind?’ She rubbed up and down, a bit faster than when she began, and despite my panic, the erection stayed. “Tell me. Trust me. I want to know.”
I swallowed, feeling the moment. I could do this. Right? She saw the porn. She was still here. She said she would not judge. I could trust her. I should trust her. “I’m tied down,” I said, barely loud enough. “I can’t move.”
Her hand continued its sensual rhythm. “Ooh, I like,” she answered playfully.
I ignored it, letting her hand do its magic. I felt her add more lotion and resume stroking slowly. I stayed in the fantasy I was just then constructing. “I’m helpless. Naked. I can’t get away.”
“Oh, tell me more,” Lynn suggested, her voice husky.
“I’m on a table. A dark dungeon,”
“Mm-hmm,” she cooed. The bed rolled slightly as Lynn adjusted. Then something—the towel—fell over my face, covering my eyes. The scene in my head became that much darker. “And tell me,” she asked softly, “do you have a big black cock there?”
“No,” I said. The moment of truth. I had to reveal it. If I said it aloud, I could not take it back. In her hand, my whole erection ached with desire.
“But he does,” I added, every nerve flaring at once.
For a few seconds, her hand movement paused. Then it resume, just slightly slower. “Tell me more,” she said, her voice ringing with genuine curiosity. She added more lotion.
I went with it, letting a dizzying wave of euphoria wash over me. She really was amazing, my wife. How could I not trust her? Even as my cock throbbed, I felt a knot of relief flow out of my chest. This was happening. I could do this.
“I’m strapped to the table. I’m naked. The stranger is naked, too. I woke up here. I don’t know where I am.” I could see the vision in my head as clearly as I said it. I had nowhere to go but forward now. “He wants to fuck me. He wants to fuck me with his big black cock.”
“Really?” my wife added, but I dismissed it. Her hand felt too glorious on my dick. “Go on,” she breathed.
“He’s fucking me now. I can’t stop him. I have no choice.”
Her hand slowed slightly, then started to beat a little faster. The base of my cock began to tingle. “Yes,” was all Lynn said, a whisper of encouragement near my ear.
“He’s fucking me and I can’t resist. My pussy is so wet. He’s going to make me cum.”
At my words, Lynn stopped beating my cock, and for a moment I feared she had stopped completely. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.” Then with another dollop of lotion, she resumed stroking, only this time more quickly. “Yes,” she said. “That’s it. Cum for me.” She stroked faster, harder, the intensity climbing in her voice to match her hand. My legs trembled, but I held my limbs in place as if they truly could not move.
“Cum for me while I pound that pussy,” she hissed. “Cum for me while I fuck you with my big black cock.”
My wife was amazing in so many ways. I was going to cum, and she was going to force it out of me, no question to it. I was in heaven.
“Don’t make me cum,” I said, playing my part in my mind. “Please. What will I tell my husband?”
“Ooh, you dirty whore,” my wife crooned, sending me right to the edge. She continued to beat furiously, my stiff dick actually aching with the force of each stroke. “Cum for me whore. Cum for me little bitch. Do it! Cum now!”
And I did. I could not have held back if I tried.
My cock spit painfully, hot splashes striking my belly in quick succession. Immediately, Lynn’s hand made a ring around the base, squeezing hard, and I heard a small squeal from her. She held on tight, though, gripping fiercely as my dick throbbed and emptied itself. She had just told me her reservations about cum, and here it was plastered all over my belly. I wondered if any had gotten on her hand as well. I flashed a thought of her licking it off, but clearly that would never happen. It was only a fantasy, just like the one I had played in my mind to orgasm.
She let go and let my dick start to soften. I did not want to remove the towel over my eyes. I did not want to face her so soon after exposing myself like that. How could she face a husband that had fantasies like that?
“Wow,” she said. “Fucking wow.” She rolled on the bed. “That was fucking hot!”