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.
CHAPTER TWO
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 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?"
