Helens Anniversary Idea

Helen Jones was a beautiful woman living a good life. She had a devoted and loving husband, Jack, two adoring and healthy children, and even a great family dog, Bruno. Helen had spent the past twenty-years in a mostly happy marriage.

Why did she do anything to upset such a perfect picture?

Helen and Jack's twentieth anniversary was fast approaching. Helen was thinking of what she might do to make this anniversary extra special for her husband. And she just happened to see... 'the advertisement.'

The ad promised that professional photographers would come right to your-home and take tasteful boudoir-style pictures. Helen had never considered anything so naughty before, but today she found the idea titillating. Helen had retained her looks remarkably well over forty-three years, but the truth was that Jack hadn't been nearly as... frisky the past few months as he had been in years past.

After Helen got her husband off to work and the kids on the way to school, she thought again about the idea of boudoir photos for her husband, and headed up to the bedroom. Helen stood before the full-length mirror. Her body- especially her breasts-- looked excellent still. Helen turned and posed to admire just how fantastic she had kept herself up. At 138 pounds, the 40C-28-36 body was in excellent shape. She reached behind her neck to let loose her ponytail and shook her head to let her long, fine hair cascade down over her shoulders. Helen could easily pass for a much younger woman.

She wanted to see if she could still fit in her wedding dress. Helen had been such a beautiful bride. On an impulse, she pulled it out of the closet where it was stored. Trying it on after all this time, Helen was ecstatic that she fit it as easily as she had on her wedding day as a twenty-three year-old.

Helen couldn't help the thought that she was still as pretty as a picture. The idea of that metaphor brought back the advertisement to her mind. DAMN!

Her hands were actually trembling with anticipation as she dialed the number.

A woman answered. Helen's voice was slightly hesitant as she explained she had seen the advertisement. She was about to have a wedding anniversary the very next day, she said. The woman seemed so friendly. Yes, she would be able to fit in a short notice appointment for Helen. To Helen's delight, she was told that the pictures could be taken and processed within twenty-four hours. To satisfy the rush job, the studio's best men would be dispatched to her place that very day.

Men? To Helen, they seemed more like boys as they arrived. Maybe the oldest one may have been twenty, but they were so damn youthful looking that Helen thought they barely looked old enough to be driving the van they pulled up in. As shocking as their youthful appearance was to her, her greater concern was that there was three of the `boys' and they were all black!

Helen wasn't a racist... not a real one. Her daddy had been one and Jack was too, but as far as Helen was concerned as long as `they' kept to themselves then she would keep with her own kind too. Sure she had some curiosities. She had heard jokes in the girl's rooms about how`big' they all were. Once as a young nurse, she had a `nigger' patient that she had to give a sponge bath to. The patient had been around fifty-five years of age and his hair had been silver. He wasn't flabby at all though and as the young, white nurse had cleaned his firm, black body, the patient had gotten hard. Helen touched his thick dark cock (through the washcloth) as she washed him, and then again in a cursory way (through the towel) as she dried him off, but had resisted any urge to make the motions sensual. Yet that weekend with Michael, she had closed her eyes as he made love to her and fantasized that it was that black man fucking her.

Helen wasn't a racist, but she wasn't about to pose `slutty' in front of three of them either.

Helen felt herself tense up. "T-there, must be s-some s-sort of m-mistake..."

"What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Jones?"

Wasn't it obvious? She couldn't possibl... It was too scandalous to even think abou... The very ide...

"Umm... I don't want to... Offend you boys, but maybe there has been a..m-mistake. I mean, I wanted some... pictures for my husband."

"Right, some nudes."

"I'm... s-sorry. I'm sorry. I am sure that you boys are very good and ever..."

"Do you have a problem that we're black?"

"N-no. It's not..." She didn't want to feel the fear. It wasn't like these `boys' weren't professionals. They weren't at her home to rape her. It was ridiculous. Helen tried to tell herself that there was nothing wrong with these `boys' having this job. " I wasn't expecting guys. I talked to a woman on the phone." Even to herself, this line of logic, this excuse sounded unconvincing.

"It's okay lady, we understand. A woman has to be careful." As she saw how easily they had stopped unpacking and had begun to put their equipment away, Helen felt a change of heart.

"Wait-wait... I guess we could do some photographs. I really did want to surprise my husband tomorrow."

Davis looked at that beautiful, white bride and smiled. She was just the perfect middle class purebred that he liked. "We don't want to make you feel uncomfortable. Here's our crew. Marvin is my light and film man, and Kenny here is just tagging along trying to learn the tricks of the trade. If maybe the fact there is three of us is too much, we could just do you, me and Marvin."

The truth is that Helen would have felt more comfortable with less niggers, but the number to put her at ease would have had to be zero. Even though Helen wasn't racist, she realized that there was a certain comfort that there would be three black men [if there had to be any.] Surely nothing could happen with two witnesses?

Helen was dressed in a white, lace blouse with a tan skirt. She had thigh-high nylons on and heels. But underneath she was wearing her hot-red valentine's bra-and-panty set that Michael had bought her last year. As she led the men into the house, she found herself wondering whether the guys were looking at her ass as she walked.

Kenny and Marvin began to set up their equipment in the family room, and Davis chatted up Helen a bit

"So, you been married twenty-years, tomorrow?"

"Umm, yeah. That's correct."

"That is so sweet. My own folks only lasted two years. Me, I don't know if I will ever be able to find the one to go twenty with."

The words seemed innocuous, but to Helen's shame, she felt a slight discomfort even having this discussion with the boy. The situation was so crazy. Surely she wasn't about to bare herself in front of these three blacks.

"Say, listen. Umm, I really should have confirmed that I would get a woman photographer or at least have another woman here. I mean I am a married--"

"Are you backing out?"

"No... It's just that I think it might be... Inappropriate if I was to pose...you know... Nude."

"Well... I have to say if you want these pictures to be `hot,' I mean for your husband and all... maybe we can do something nice in lingerie or something, but nudes or at least partials is what you really need to kick start that romance again..." Davis had been here before and knew the pitch.

"There isn't anything wrong with our marriage."

Yeah, Davis knew the exact pitch to play these white wives. The idea to offer `boudoir-photography' had been a stroke of genius. In just under four months of running the scam, Davis and Marvin had themselves five wives already. Not a one had screamed `rape,' and nor should they have.

Davis didn't need to do that shit when he could sweet talk the white wives right out of their panties and onto his big, black cock.

"Okay, well you are the customer-- so of course, the call is yours. Lets just play it and see what we can do."

The nigger just seemed so damn agreeable. Helen was looking for an excuse to call things off but she was painted into the corner now. Still, the valentine undies had to go.

"Maybe you guys could do something with me in a bikini?"

Davis had time. "Sure, we can do that...."

Helen went to her bedroom where she closed and locked the door. The niggers prepared their game, and Helen was in her room naked. She felt her dignity had been stripped with her clothes as she tried to pick a bikini that would be acceptable for the pictures but still protect her virtue.

Sure, her marriage was everything to the faithful wife, but it HAD been twenty years and even if she kept forgetting it, the reason she WAS DOING this was that she wanted to prove she still had it.... what it would take to make Michael want her all over again.

Helen saw the bikini that she had purchased in Jamaica. It was too shocking to even wear back then. Helen was almost in disbelief with herself as she pulled the skimpy scraps of cloth into place. The tiny panties barely covered her just shaven cunt and the top did little more than make sure that her nipples weren't on display. She turned this way and that in front of the mirror, deciding. For a second, she considered peeling off the tiny suit and sending the boys home. But instead, Helen sucked her breath in, grabbed her robe and walked out to meet her destiny.

Davis was a little surprised to see Helen in a robe, but he played it cool. "Okay, Mrs. Davis, why don't you loosen the robe and we'll get comfortable."

Helen tensed as she started to search the boy's words for any innuendo. Then, still holding her breath from the bedroom, she dropped her robe. She was practically naked in front of three young niggers, all alone in her house. The game was engaged.

Photographs were clicked of Helen as she was carefully posed. Each pose was slightly more provocative than the one before. From simply asking her to smile, the suggestions moved to where she should push her arms together and squeeze her breasts, or to bend over and give a flash of her ass.

Of course, Davis used more tact, but the results were the same.

Davis finally suggested an outfit change. Helen locked the door again. She looked at the sleazy valentine undies and thought to herself that she would be more covered than the bikini. She wanted to turn Michael on, so she had to get over her ridiculous hang-ups. Time was ticking away.

The front of her valentine panties was actually a tiny heart. Her breasts had two `hearts' basically stuck to her nipples. A very tiny thread kept everything in place.

Davis was pleased when he saw the mostly naked white-wife. The material of the panties was thin and he could see the outline of her shaved pussy lips through the material. The bra was lacy and her nipples were just barely covered by the tiny hearts. She had let her blonde hair down and it cascaded down to her shoulders.

"Maybe you would want to have some pictures in your bed?"

They had rounded first and were headed for second.

"Okay," Helen was about to turn and head back upstairs when Bruno jumped at the back door.

"What the fuck!" Marvin was right by the door when the big rott let out a bark.

"Oh, that's Bruno. He won't get in the way."

Helen actually felt guilty as she let the family dog into the house from the back yard. She couldn't help but suddenly realize that she was taking three strange niggers to her marital bed.

It was almost enough to stop her, but instead she shooed the dog into the basement. He was very protective of the family and might not like having the boys in the house.

Davis liked dogs, but he was happy that the rott was behind a closed door cause animals knew what the `nasty' was. He followed Mrs. Helen Jones into her sacred room.

Upstairs, Helen posed on her bed for about ten minutes. She turned this way and that. Helen got up on all fours and looked over her shoulder. She was just about ready.

"You got another outfit to model?"

"What about my wedding dress?"

"...is it in here?"

"It's just in my closet." Helen started towards the closet as she expected the boys to head for the door. No one moved. "Excuse me, umm... I need to change."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, Mrs. Jones, it's just that the girls always change while we reload to save time. But if it makes you uncomfortable..."

Davis accented the words just right to guilt Helen up.

"Umm... I guess, I am being silly. I mean, this is your job and all. Sorry."

Marvin almost giggled. Davis actually had this woman apologizing for not stripping for them to take a look.

Of course, no one was too obvious. After all there would be plenty of looking as she would spend the next several hours having all them tight white holes of hers stuffed full of the nigger's black dicks.

Helen tried to be as proper as possible as she stripped down and got into her dress. She first replaced her bra and then her panties. Slutty hearts weren't right for wedding dress accessories. When Helen had finished the lingerie exchange she felt far better and slipped into her dress. It was actually going to be fun to pose in the dress.

"Mmm, I have to say that you make a fine picture as a white-bride. That dress is hot too. Maybe Marvin can set up the second camera and we can get some other, secondary pics done 'cause it's getting a little late."

Helen just nodded, not realizing that the `second' camera was actually a video-tape-recorder. It was actually intended to capture the next stage of the game, but it was necessary to set things up.

"Say, maybe Kenny could run to the kitchen if you have anything to drink. It's sure hot today."

"There's some orange juice in the fridge or I guess some of my husband's beers too. You guys are old enough right?"

"Beer would be great, I'll get us all one," Kenny piped up before anyone had to lie to the woman.

While Kenny went for the beer, Davis snapped a few pics. The truth was that he had a wedding dress fetish, but not like this. He wanted the girl to be a lot sluttier. Luckily, the `spike' that Kenny would put into Helen's beer would speed up her cooperation.

Davis was pretty sure he would fuck the big-breasted blonde anyhow, but with the Extacsy spike, it would be even simpler to convince her to open her legs for him and both his friends.

Kenny returned with the glasses of beer and made sure Helen got the spiked one.' If she was suspicious at why the Marvin had opened the bottles, she couldn't refuse the drink without it being obvious she wasn't trusting them. Helen drank up like a good [naive] girl.

Davis took more photos, waiting nearly fifteen minutes for Helen to get more agreeable. The Extacsy cocktail was designed to erase `no' from a bitch's vocabulary. He saw that Marvin and Kenny were practically going wild when he finally spoke up.

"Ready to show some more for your lover?"

"Ummm—" Helen hesitated, but she was starting to get moist at the thought of taking off more in front of three hot-looking black studs. "Well... what do you have in mind, Davis?"

Davis wanted a photo in her veil and just her lingerie, and Helen obliged. "Lean against the wall there," Davis suggested. She did as he directed. Because of the drug, she was less concerned with his more assertive tone. But Davis was only keeping it cool for just a bit longer.

"If it's OK with you, Mrs Jones, please cross your arms and push those beautiful boobs up just a bit." She did- and all three men could see the edge of her areola peek above the bra. "That's good, Mrs Jones," Davis encouraged her. "Now let the straps fall..." she peeled them off her shoulders "beautiful".

Now Davis wanted her to slowly take off her brassiere the rest of the way. "Can you show all of us some more of your nice fat tits now, Mrs Jones?" Davis was testing her to see how the spike might be working.

Helen failed to take offense at Davis' disrespectful language. "You mean these 'nice fat tits', Mr Davis?". She opened the center catch between the tiny cups. Then, like a whore, Helen slowly released her heavy, luscious breasts into her hands.

Davis asked her to pinch her nipples, but she did more than that. Smiling at the camera, she sexily removed her hands. Now, imagining how Jack might enjoy the photos later, Helen cupped her fat tits for three black men. She lifted them and squeezed, rolled her nipples between her fingers and got them all hard for her new friends.

Now Davis wanted Helen to sit on the edge of her husband's bed and slowly spread her thighs. Helen hesitated, because her panties were getting very wet, and she knew that the stain would be easy to see if she was to spread her legs. But didn't she want to make sexy boudoir photos for her husband? And these were professional photographers... Imagining somehow that Jack would be pleased with her, Helen gave the camera a sultry look and made that 'fuck me' move, spreading her legs and stroking her inner thighs The crotch of her panties was sopping as she spread herself for three strange men.

Davis asked her to hook her fingers through the wet crotch material and slowly pull it to one side. Shouldn't she say no? Wasn't it wrong to do that, even if this was a boudoir photo session? But she had already shown Davis and his friends so much- it seemed silly stand on formalities now. So faithful, married-for-twenty-years Mrs Helen Jones obliged her nigger's request. There was a wet juicy sound as she pulled the lace away from her cunt. Her pussy lips eased apart as they were exposed to the air in the room.

"You are so beautiful Helen. Marvin, wouldn't you say she is just about the hottest any woman has been?"

"Yeah, your husband is going to be damn lucky and turned right on. About the only way you would look hotter in these pictures is if you had just been fucked."

"Huh-what?" Helen was looking down. She was lightly touching her pussy and was a bit distracted.

"Pay him no mind. I'm sorry Helen, but Marvin has a one track mind. Do you want him to leave?"

Davis was so smooth.

"Umm..." Helen was tentatively touching her clit. "Maybe we should stop...." Her fingers were getting wet.

"Sure, we got some great pictures. You really photograph so beautiful. You could do this pro. Actually, I don't think we could improve things without what Marvin said. But since these pics are for your husband, I'm not sure he would understand... I wouldn't even think to offer."

What Davis did not know was that Helen had a fantasy that she had never shared with anyone. She even kept it hidden from herself. But today, as Helen spread her pussy lips for three horny black men, her fantasy was helping Davis to get where he wanted to be.

Helen's secret, long treasured fantasy was this: being gang-raped by big black negro men. It had had its beginning when she witnessed her sister being screwed by a black boyfriend while Helen was still in high school.

In her fantasy Helen was a willing white prostitute. She was sexually enslaved by a stern negro pimp. Her pimp would force her to do sexual things with other men, mostly black, and of course with him. In Helen's fantasy there were a few white men her pimp gave her to as well. But she was in thrall to the size and blackness of her Master's cock— especially as it shot white, thick baby-making cum onto her face or deep into her asshole. But Helen's deepest orgasms were when she frigged herself imagining her black master pumping his cum deep, deep into her cunt.

That was the secret fantasy that Helen had never shared. Even in her own imagination she made herself forget it as soon as her mind-numbing orgasms had passed. But now it was coming to her conscious mind, as if for the first time.

The combination of the Ecxtasy spike and Helen exposing her pussy to these three young niggers... seeing their hardons bulging the front of their pants... knowing that young, studly virile black men were HARD-FOR-HER... It was all enough to seal the deal.

Helen eased her finger into her wet hole. She pulled her finger out, pushed it in again. She looked up. "Y-you guys fuck?"