I awoke Friday morning all alone for the first time since my husband left. Marcus was gone, leaving behind only what the lying bastard had pumped into me the night before. I stretched, feeling the crusty remnants of his semen caking my inner thighs. My pussy was sore from the whole week, and stretched. I could never go back.
"Oh god, oh god!" Startled at the feeling I jumped out of bed and screamed, "What have I done to my marriage? To my life!?"
I felt so filthy I rushed to the bathroom and jumped in the shower before the water could warm up. The icy cold spray cascaded down my shivering body. The water heated up to scalding as I tried to scrub the dirty feeling off my body and dig out any semen those men had left inside me. After about thirty minutes I had washed all the dried semen from my frame, but as I dried my tendered skin with a towel I realized the feeling never washed away.
For good measure I grabbed a bottle of douche. Cleansing my sore insides I remembered the thug had purchased it for me in the first place. Despite myself, my lower abdomen warmed at the thought. I gritted my teeth and screamed again.
When I was finished I walked back to the bedroom to my lingerie drawer. For the first time since Sunday I slid into a pair of satin panties. It felt like a lifetime since I had worn them, and I supposed it had been. I pulled on my husband's robe and started downstairs to make breakfast.
On my way I came across my robe lying in the middle of the hall. I picked it up and threw it into the laundry room.
I started a pot of coffee before sitting at the table. My mind started to wander as I listened to the coffee brewing. "What have I done?" I asked myself. I watched the machine ping and dark coffee started to fill the pot. I cupped my face in my hands and started to sob.
"What have I done? How did one night a month ago make me do these things? All these things..." I am a sensible woman, I had thought. I was a good woman, a good wife, and soon to be a good mother. And yet... "I willingly went back to the thug that took my body... Why?"
The coffee finished. I got up and poured a cup. I stared. The caramel color swirling in the porcelain cup sent a twinge through my pussy. "What is it about the thug that made me go back?" I wondered aloud and swirled my drink, "My husband had been all I wanted before... before he..."
I sipped my coffee, and the heat stung my lips. "Is it his demeanor?" I continued, "Am I just submissive? But I never was like that with my own husband... Or any of my boyfriends before him. What is wrong with me then?"
The black brew sank low in the cup before I took my eyes away from it. I put the thoughts out of my mind as I made scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast.
I sat at the table more picking at than eating my food. I sipped my coffee and warmed my belly deep down, "Am I really pregnant?" I suddenly thought. My hand shot out over my stomach as I considered it, "Why did I let him throw out my diaphragm? Why did I stay? Why didn't I stop him before...?" The heat in my abdomen flared up, just as I remembered how hot his sperm was. I sunk to my elbows and clasped the coffee cup in both hands.
"He was right about sex being better knowing I could get pregnant," I could not deny that fact anymore. It was true, but felt so much truer with him, "Did he... did he knock me up?"
I shivered at the realization of the whole situation. In two days I had fucked three black men. Unprotected. Trembling I whispered, "If I end up pregnant, how will I know for sure who the father is?" I knew that I couldn't ever be sure, not really. "Then why..." I thought as I ground my thighs together, "Why am I getting so horny thinking about it?"
I shook off my thoughts with a shiver. I cleaned up my breakfast dishes and sat at the table finishing my coffee. My mind remained mercifully blank the whole time.
I rose to pour another cup when I saw it. Crumpled in the corner was my flannel shirt, the one the thug picked out for me. I went and picked it up. The thought of the thug and what he did to me over the past few weeks shot through my mind. I knew my husband wanted children but had not brought it up lately.
There was something about this hideous looking black man. My own body betrayed me making me do things I have never done with my husband. The orgasmic high I felt while fucking this thug made me want it again and again. He called me names that would have caused me to slap any other man, but coming from him it felt right. When he flushed my diaphragm I should have left. His commanding attitude wanting me unprotected drove me to him again and again.
Picking up my flannel shirt I dropped my husbands robe and put it on. Buttoning the lone hold my pussy felt smothered as it drooled. "I have to find him," I gasped, dropping my panties on top of the robe. I had to have the thug again before my husband returned.
I rushed to find my keys. I ran to the garage while donning my overcoat. I pressed the door remote and started the car. Once the door opened I drove off in search of the thug.
Again.
Driving to the dark side of town my nether region felt so empty. "I need him," I thought, "I need him more than anything else right now."
A slow burn started, deep inside me. My hand crept under the flap of my coat and cupped my mound. My pussy was absolutely drenched as I slid a finger along my slit. Working a finger into my snatch I thought about how much the thug had stretched me in just a week, and the emptiness diminished. A little.
I soon had worked three fingers into me, and it still was not enough.
Before I knew it I was parked just down the street from the thug's apartment. There was a strange car out front, so I stayed in the car and watched. My finger toy at my little pearl through a series of mini orgasms as I waited.
I was there about a half hour when I spotted officer Cat exiting the second floor apartment. I watched her come down and leave in the strange car. I sat there not knowing what to do.
A few minutes had passed when I saw the thug come down the stairs and disappear into his apartment. I got out of my car and quickly walked to his door.
I dropped my overcoat before bursting in. The thug jumped out of his chair.
"Who da fuck-" he started as I ran into his powerful arms. Cupping my ass he caught me when I jumped, my legs hugged his waist. I mashed my lips to his. His tongue shot into my mouth as I kissed him with a passion I didn't know was in me.
He pulled his head away while I scrabbled for his belt, "Yo, whatcha want whitebread?" he growled in that deep menacing voice. I pulled his belt and his loose pants dropped.
"You," I said, locking my lips to his.
I charmed his African snake with my hand, he slapped my ass, "I's done with ya whitebread," he said breaking the kiss, "I's movin' on to other ho's now."
I aligned the head of his cock so my pussy lips could kiss it ever so gently. Looking into his dark menacing eyes, "I will do whatever you want, anything you want. Just please take me."
His arms lowered so my pussy could engulf his cock, "Iff'n I wants ta sell yo body ta any nigga that wants it?"
"Yes, sell me out. I'll do even that," His cock bottomed out, and suddenly the emptiness was gone, "Oooh! I'll do it as long as you fuck me like this!"
Ty and Marcus compared more to my husband in the penis department. I needed more. I needed the phallus of this hideous African god to completely please me.
The thug held me as I flexed my hips to his, "Ya's just a ho fo' black cock, whitebread."
My pussy started clenching his cock, "Aaaah! I hate you for that. You made me a nigger fucking whore - now fuuuck meee!!"
My orgasm started and he hadn't even thrust into me yet. Just then the apartment door burst open, "Duane, who's fucking-" The woman stopped and stared. It took me a moment to realize it was Officer Cat.
"Shut the fuck up bitch," Duane barked at her.
"Oh fuck!" I screamed out my orgasm,
"Cuuuumming!"