The Sweet Wife

Chapter One-3

His eyes flashed angrily, “Say it…say Mr. Henry’s white b***h will beg for his spit.”

Squeezing her eyes shut she thought, ‘I can’t, I can’t say it.’ She opened her eyes and looked into his, “Mr. Henry’s white b***h will beg for his spit,” she said. “Please,” she opened her mouth again. He spit into it and she swallowed.

“Got to thank your man,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Henry.”

“For what?”

“Thank you for letting me have your spit.”

Leaning close to her he said, “That’s better.” Very lightly he let his lips brush hers, then he drew back. Again and again he touched her lips with his, light, flickering touches. She moaned and lifted toward him. His heavy lips became distended, engorged.

“Oh, God,” she moaned, “please, please let me kiss you.” Her mouth was open wide, her tongue moving back and forth, her breath coming in gasps. Suddenly he pressed his open mouth over hers. His swollen lips were hot. He rubbed them against hers. She had never been kissed like this. Never had there been this kind of hunger, this kind of liquid fusion. She darted her tongue in and out of his mouth. She licked the spittle from his pendulous lips. She opened her mouth wider inviting his tongue into it. All the time she continued to moan from deep inside her. No s****l experience in her life and ever come close to the passion she felt in kissing this stranger, this huge demanding black man.

He covered her mouth with his own, pressing hard, bruising her swollen lips. She felt his tongue inside her mouth, filling it, pushing toward the back of her throat. His hands clasped her face tightly. Her tongue slid under his. She moved it from side to side. Their saliva mixed and some seeped from the corner of her mouth. She was aware only of his hot breath, his wet lips, his thick tongue, and of the low groaning sound that was coming from deep inside her.

Suddenly, he let go of her face and pushed her violently from his lap. She fell, sprawling on the floor, her senses reeling. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “You sure one hot b***h,” he said. “Get your ass over there and fix yourself up.” He pointed to the make-up table.

She struggled to her feet, unsteady in the stiletto heels. Looking in the mirror, she saw that her lipstick was smeared and her mascara had run. She concentrated on steadying her trembling hands as she applied fresh lipstick and gloss. She wiped her face clean and repaired the mascara. Finally, she brushed her hair and straightened her blouse.

“Why’d you do that?” he asked.

She turned to face him, “You told me to.”

“You makin yourself pretty for your black lover?”

She knew now that he expected a complete answer. “Yes, I’m making myself pretty for my black lover.”

He nodded then gestured toward Brian who still stood in the doorway. “Go over there by your husband,” he said.

Not looking at Brian, she crossed to stand in front of him. “Now boy,” Travis said, “Your wife is gonna give herself to the black man. You gotta respect a wife who’s smart enough to know a real man when she sees one. Ain’t I right?”

Brian was still shaken after what he’d just witnessed. He wasn’t sure what Travis had asked. “Yes,” he said meekly, “yes, you’re right.”

Travis nodded unsmiling, “I see your wife is wearin a brand new pair of f**k-me shoes and her little toes is bare.” He paused. “You got to show her respect by getting down on your knees and kissin them toes. But first I want to hear your wife tell you what she wants to do.”

Maureen looked at Travis who nodded. Blushing furiously she turned to her husband, “I...I…want to give myself to him. I want him to take me.”

Brian stepped back, frowning. “On your knees, goddamn you!” Travis shouted. “Or I’ll come over there and break your fuckin head!” Maureen turned toward Travis again, intending to protest but seeing the anger in his eyes she remained silent.

Hesitating, Brian got to his knees and kissed the brightly painted toes of her right foot. “Both!” Travis shouted. Obediently, Brian kissed the other foot. Still on his knees, he looked across at Travis who asked, “Why did you do that, boy? Why you on your knees kissin your wife’s feet?”

“Ah…uh...you said for me to do it.”

Travis leaned forward, “That ain’t the right answer, you dumb f**k. Why did I tell you to do it?”

“To…to…show her respect.” He saw that Travis wasn’t satisfied. “To show her respect for giving herself to…to…the black man...giving herself to you.”

“That’s right, boy. I’m gonna f**k your wife. If you’re a good boy, maybe I let you watch. You want to watch the big black man f**k your wife? You want to watch your wife on her knees suckin my black c**k and lickin my black balls?”

Brian continued kneeling, “Yes, I’d like to watch.”

“And when I’m done fuckin your wife, you gonna clean her up. I mean with your tongue and show her respect again?”

Brian wasn’t exactly sure what he meant, but was afraid to question. “Yes, I’ll do what you say.”

“That’s right, boy, from now on you gotta show your wife more respect.” Maureen had turned to face him. He stared at her for a moment, “It’s easy to see there ain’t but one man in this room. How about you sayin who that is?”

She glanced at her husband who was still on his knees, then she looked at Travis, “It’s you. You’re the only man here.”

“You my woman?”

“Yes, for tonight, just for tonight I’ll be your woman.”

“You want me to f**k you?”

She took several steps toward him. He pointed to the floor. “One of the first things you got to learn is that you got to crawl to the black man when you’re wantin him to give you his cock.” She got to her knees and crawled until she was kneeling between his spread legs. He could see that her n*****s were pressed tight against the shear blouse. He also recognized a look in her eyes. It was one he’d seen a thousand times before. The little b***h wanted it. Well, she was gonna have to do some tricks first. He allowed himself a slight smile. “Please, f**k me,” she said.

“You want the black man’s c**k?”

“Yes, I want the black man’s cock.” She placed her hands on his thighs and looked up at him.

He stared at her, his face set, “That’s right,” he said, “you got to want it…want it bad. The black man ain’t like the white man. White man do anything to f**k your p***y. You white bitches use that, you know. You think your p***y’s made of gold cause the white man act like it is. He thinks about your p***y all the damn time. With the black man, man like me, it’s the opposite. I don’t give a damn about your p***y. I can get all the p***y I need. But you, white b***h like you, don’t ever get a c**k like mine. You gonna be thinking about my big black c**k all the time. Gonna be wantin it…wantin it real bad.” He leaned forward, “I ain’t only gonna be your black lover, I’m gonna be your black master and you gonna be my pretty little white b***h. Ain’t that right, b***h?”

He was so full of himself, so confident. This huge, fat, ignorant, black overbearing slob was forcing her to say things she would later regret, but they were just words. She didn’t have to mean them. She swallowed hard, “Yes, tonight I’ll be as you say, your pretty white b***h and you will be my black master.”

“You gonna worship your master’s c**k so maybe he’ll f**k you with it?”

She looked up at him then bowed her head and was silent. ‘My God, she thought, was he crazy or was she? All her life she’d been in control. Except for this present situation, she made the decisions in her marriage. She’d always known Brian was weak. He deferred to her in everything. Why did she agree to go along with his insane suggestion? She’d always been a strong and independent woman and proud. To be on her knees like this before this black stranger was beyond anything she could have imagined. But there was something…something she couldn’t quite understand. His size maybe, his arrogance, his presumption, his certitude. There was something about him, something about being on her knees like this…something about submitting to a man so obviously her intellectual, social, and cultural inferior that excited her just as much as it humiliated her. Looking up at him, she said, “Please let me see…I mean let me worship your c**k”. She reached to unbuckle his belt.

He grabbed her hands and glared at her. “You need some goddamn lessons,” he said evenly. “That’s the way with you white women. You think you can get whatever you want by just askin. Like I said, it don’t work like that with me. You got to learn how to worship the black man, how to be grateful even if he only lets you look at his prick.” He released her. She let her arms hang at her side and bowed her head. “You never touch your master unless you ask or he lets you know it’s OK for you to touch him. The only thing you touch my d**k with is your mouth. You’re gonna learn to worship my c**k without using your hands. First thing you do is clean my prick and my balls with your tongue, hands behind your back. Then you’re gonna beg me to f**k your mouth. You’re gonna open wide and learn to take it all. You got that?”

She glanced up at him and nodded, “I understand.” She frowned. Something was happening that frightened her more than she’d ever been frightened in her life. She comforted herself with the thought that it would be over in a few hours. This huge powerful black man would be gone and that would be that. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something more or to do something.

She put her hands behind her back. “That’s it, you got the right idea,” he said. “Sometime you’ll just suck me slow and easy. Other times I gonna hold your head and f**k your mouth hard just like it was your cunt.” She clasped her hands tightly and felt a shiver go through her body. He leaned forward, “I c*m good. I can c*m two, three times in a couple hours. There’s always a lot of hot c*m. You’re gonna learn to want my c*m. You’re gonna swallow every drop of the black man’s c*m and wish there was more. Now what you got to say?”

As he was speaking, she could feel the heat draining downward to her v****a. She could feel how wet she’d become. “I…I…don’t know what to say,” she murmured. She wanted to tell him to leave, threaten to call the police if he didn’t. She remembered how his mouth felt as it covered hers, the wetness of his thick lips. Without looking up she whispered, “Teach me…please…teach me how to worship your black cock.”

He leaned back in the chair. “Yeah, you got to learn some stuff.” He gestured for her to back away. She crawled backwards until she was about five feet from him. “Now,” he said, “stand up and strip for me, but do it real slow. You got to tease your man. You got to always let him know you’re hot for him, real hot for your black master. The only thing on your mind is to make your man hard, make him want to f**k you.”

She had never been naked before a stranger. She had never stripped for her husband in the obscene way this stranger demanded. Her face was scarlet with shame. She didn’t know quite what to do. She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. He nodded. “Lick your lips,” he said. “Make them shine.” As she unfastened the next two buttons, she circled her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Look at me, and pinch your n*****s,” he instructed. “And tell me if them t**s is mine to play with.”

Her blouse hung open. She cupped her bare breasts and, with the thumb and index finger of each hand, squeezed her already distended n*****s. “Yes,” she said, “my breasts are yours to…to play with.” He gestured for her to continue. She removed her blouse.

“Just stand there for a minute. Put your hands behind your neck and push your titties out.” He observed her for a few moments. Embarrassed, she lowered her eyes. “Keep looking at me,” he said. “And you know what to do with your tongue.” She looked across at him and once more wet her lips. “Your t**s ain’t too big but they don’t sag and you got nice long n*****s. Anybody ever suck them n*****s but your husband?”

“No…just Brian.”

“Well maybe you’d like someone else to suck them and bite them?” It was a question.