Brea of Dawn - Sunday Morning

Sunday Morning at the 'Big Top'

Challan Balaban woke up with heavy eyes and tried to focus, rubbing the itch and dryness away as he tried to remember where he was. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and he could still taste the combination of whiskey and pussy from going down on his wife a few hours earlier. He was still drunk, and his head ached from his groggy alcohol induced state as he tried to get his bearing. Realizing that he was still at the 'Big Top' where he apparently had passed out on the leather couch in the living room. A blanket had been thrown over him as he realized that he was only wearing his boxer shorts in which his dick had pitched a tent, thanks to the morning wood that sprung to life once again as the memories of last night's descent into immorality were coming back into clarity. The living room was still dark, and according to the nearby digital clock it was 4:15 am. Although it felt like he slept for hours it was still only a short time ago that he was digging his fingers into his wife's wet pussy as they were passionately embracing on this very spot, preparing her for the evening's debauchery.

He rubbed his hand across his dry mouth and could still smell the familiar fragrance of his wife's funk as he brought his fingers to his nose and deeply inhaled her womanly scent. He had thought that she would have been fast asleep and by his side, perhaps lying next to him in the same alcoholic stupor. However, once he was aware that she was no longer in the living room with him, he had a good idea of where she was and who she was with. He pushed the blanket off his chest and sat up reaching for a bottle of beer that was still half full on the coffee table beside him. Chugging down the remains of the piss warm liquid just too wet his dry rancid mouth. He then reached into the ashtray that was next to the beer, and grabbed the half-burned joint that was seated in the notch of the glass receptacle and brought it to his lips. Then feeling around the darkened table, he searched for a lighter which he quickly recovered and flicked it on, bringing the ignited flame to the burnt edge of the recovered reefer as he took a deep drag on the marijuana cigarette.

He inhaled long and hard on the joint, holding in the smoke for as long as he could before he felt his lungs burn. He began to cough uncontrollably for a few moments, releasing a fragrant plume of smoke around him. The strong odor overpowered the residual hint of his wife's perfume, and the spent sex that still lingered in the air. There was nothing like a good 'wake and bake' to start the day he thought to himself as he began to feel light headed once again as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness. He leaned back against the couch and took another toke from the joint as he thought about his beautiful wife Makayla and his African American 'buddy', Slaughter. A man who he considered to be his alter ego. He was sure that they were in the 'Master's Bedroom' and that Slaughter had been giving his wife the goods throughout the night. The chemistry between them was undeniable whenever they got together for these sex-filled overnight get-togethers' and Challan was always eager to watch his wife get fucked by good friend.

He reached between his legs and pushed his right hand into the opening of his blue boxers to pull out his stiff cock. He began to stroke his morning wood once again as he thought back upon the past few hours before he slipped into unconsciousness. His recollection of how excited Makayla was on the drive up to the hills was once again stirring up his emotions, tormenting him in a way that both shamed and intensely aroused him. He always had mixed feeling when he asked his wife if she wanted to go to the 'Big Top' for the weekend and how she exuberantly reacted, looking forward to the forthcoming outing. The 'Big Top' was the name of Slaughter's lavish mountain view home. 'BIG', had double entendre to describe the size his home, and the size of his substantially well-endowed cock. 'TOP', he used to describe his dogmatic personality, and the fact that his home was up in the hills on the outskirts of the city. They had been very fortunate in that Slaughter made time for them within his busy schedule. Apparently, he was making a lot of changes in that schedule to accommodate the misbehavior of both Mikayla, and Challan. In fact, this was the third time this month that they required his services. As always, he was more than willing to play with them, especially when it came to fucking Challans voluptuous wife.

Makayla always seemed to get so excited about these rendezvouses that she went all out in preparing herself for the evening affair. Both she and Challan started their Saturday with a two-hour morning workout at the gym where she did an hour of aerobics, and an hour of weight lifting to tone up her firm but voluptuous figure. Although Challan did and hour of jogging laps around the indoor track, and another hour swimming in the Olympic sized pool he noted her working out extra hard from a distance when he went from room to room. He also noted how other male club members seemed to gravitate around her in an attempt to nonchalantly get an eyeful of her curves which were enhanced by her skin-tight bodysuit. He recalled how aroused he had become as these strangers surreptitiously espied his wife, especially since the anticipation of seeing her in the arms of his friend later in the evening was already prevalent in his thoughts. After quick showers they left the gym then took a drive to their favorite diner for a quick and healthy brunch where they discussed their plans for the day in giddy whispers. They joked about Makayla's sleazy gym admirers, and then how they were both looking forward to the intimate get together at the 'Big Top'.

After an appetizing meal and a few bloody Mary's, the rest of the afternoon provided Makayla with a day of beauty to warm her up for the evening's festivities. Challan didn't spare any expense when it came to pampering his wife at 'Special Affairs', an upscale beauty salon which was located downtown. Here she received a Swedish deep tissue massage by a muscular male masseur, a facial exfoliation, and a bikini wax which made her pussy as smooth as silk. After that she had her hair colored a dark brown, reddish shade and styled in long silky waves in between consuming a few flutes of champagne which gave her a nice stimulating buzz. She was feeling exhilarated and alluring, that when she met Challan in the lobby of the salon his eyes lit up with lust. After leaving the salon it was a short drive to 'Fire Starters Adult Emporium' to purchase a slutty outfit, sexy lingerie, and a pair of 'fuck me' pumps that they selected together. The final decision of what she would wear was left up to Challan who often chose tight, revealing clothing that intensified her sensuality and glamour. She felt like a gourmet meal at a lavish restaurant whose presentation had to be just as good as it tasted. Challan was the chef that combined the collective events of the day like the ingredients of a recipe to transform his modern-day wife into an insatiably eager, and seductively voluptuous temptress. Yesterday was a good day which lead up to an extremely obscene, and fun filled escape into the sexual depravity that they both craved.

Challan shook yesterday's memories from his 'baked' daze and pushed himself up off of the couch as the light of the early morning day was slowly brightening up the great room. Although still in shadows he stood up with the warm beer in hand and walked over to the leather lounge chair that Slaughter had sat in like an African god while his wife rode up and down upon his ten-inch phallus, losing herself in the sensations that his cock was giving her. That was a few hours ago and there was still evidence of their torrid love making. Where Slaughter had his legs spread the combined secretions of the temporary lovers had crusted up upon the dark leather. He leaned down to sniff the pungent odor that still reeked from the mess that his wife, and his best friend left behind. The acrid scent burned his nose, and once again aroused him as his cock began throbbing again.

He began to stroke himself thinking back on the torrent of his twisted emotions as he watched his wife give up her curvaceous body for Slaughter's pleasure. His large ebony hands on Makayla's plump round white ass as he kneaded and smacked her soft flesh while thrusting his thick shaft deep into her hairless snatch. Challan's hard-on was aching as he thought about that vision of eroticism that he had arranged and was privy to earlier in the evening. But his stiffness was mostly brought on by his urge to urinate as he headed to the bathroom to take a leak. As usual his emotions were once again a twisted mess, but unlike the past he embraced this ego reducing feeling. In fact, he delighted in the torment and humiliation that he felt when his wife had sex with other men that these sexual interactions were becoming more frequent. Particularly with Slaughter who had an indulgent understanding of the cuckold lifestyle that Challan and Makayla were engaging in.

When Challan arrived at the bathroom he lifted up the toilet seat, placed his left hand on the wall to keep his balance. He grabbed his stiff shaft and painfully pointed his erection down towards the bowl. He gazed down at his penis as he let loose, and as usual mentally compared the size of his stiff member to that of Slaughter's impressive tool. Even though Challan could hold his own in the bedroom, there really wasn't any comparison to what his buddy was packing between his legs, and how he expertly knew how to use it to send his wife into orgasmic orbit. As if he didn't know already, Makayla vociferously reminded him of how big her lovers cock was, and how much it filled her up in ways that Challan could not. The comparison not only ended with the size of their manhood as much as it did with their physical strength. Although Challan was physically fit, Slaughters performance as an athlete far surpassed his skills at the gym and in the bedroom as well. Especially when it came to 'giving the goods' to his buxom wife. His ability to maintain an erection kept Makayla busy for hours on end with seemingly unending stamina.

He shook his shrinking penis of the last drops of urine as he grabbed some toilet paper to wipe up the mess that he made along the rim of the ceramic bowl. Then he washed his hands and splashed some water on his face to wake himself up and flatten the mess of his bedridden hair. He looked at his reflection in the full mirror on the bathroom door, and was not pleased with the man that stared back at him. He looked bedraggled and tired, his eyes were bloodshot, pupils dilated and a five o'clock shadow darkened his face. Even his firm body looked a bit softer, his muscles somewhat saggy and his shoulders were slumped. He always seemed the worst for wear after having his ego bruised by his wife and his best friend, as they sadistically mocked and humiliated him while they fucked in front of him. To an ordinary person it may seem that he was hurt and in some ways, he was, but the truth was that he took pleasure in feeling this way as he once again gazed down at his now semi hard penis which was dangling out of the opening of his boxer shorts, wanting to watch them perform for him yet again. He took one last look at his sorry reflection and exited the bathroom to find his beloved and her Mandingo lover that he assumed were most likely in the master bedroom of the 'Big Top'

The morning sun was beginning to filter in between the creases of the plantation shutters that covered the windows of the 'Big Top' as Challan pushed his junk back into his boxers and headed down a lengthy darkened foyer that lead to the master bedroom of Slaughter's upscale home. Although he currently had a limp dick he knew that it wouldn't take long to once again get an erection once he laid his eyes upon his wife and her lover behind the closed double doors of Slaughters extravagant bedroom. His bare feet felt cold upon the smooth wooden floor as he silently stepped across it. Following the trail of Makayla's under garments that were strewn along the walkway as if they were bread crumbs deliberately guiding him towards Slaughters den of iniquity. He felt like a cat burglar as he silently picked up his wife's pink lace panties, her matching bra, and the brand new white fishnet hosiery which appeared to be irreparably torn from her body.

Within moments he was in front of the closed solid heavy oak wood French doors as he put his ear against it, in an attempt to eavesdrop on his wife and her black lover behind it. He expected to hear the ecstatic moans that Makayla made as Slaughter used her for his pleasure, but instead he only heard the muffled voices of an infomercial emanating from the theater sized television which was usually reserved for pornographic videos. Even though he would once again bear witness to his wife's gratuitous indulgence of his friend, he was feeling the same awkward emotions as he always did when walking in on them. He felt like an outsider, a third wheel in the triangle that he had repeatedly arranged. Although he was getting used to idea of sharing his wife his stomach was tied up in knots in between being intensely aroused and deliberately humiliated by the sex games that they were engaging in.

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