I woke up in bed next to my husband on Sunday morning with an awful hangover. I was only wearing my panties—my cum soaked-now-dried—panties. My exposed, large breasts had erect nipples from being exposed to the cold air in our four-bedroom house. I looked over at my husband sleeping next to me. How could I have done what I did, I thought? I felt so ashamed from letting Marcus violate me in my pussy and my asshole and filling me up with his massive load at the party. I felt so ashamed and guilty. I kissed my sleeping husband on the cheek and slipped out of bed, sliding into my slippers as I did.
I thought back to last night. After Marcus pumped me full of his seed and left me in the kitchen, I remember walking out and looking for my husband. I knew that cum was dripping down my legs, but I just needed to find my husband. I felt terrible, and I needed to make it up to him. But, when I didn't find him—I guess he was talking business over a cigar or something—I found the bar and started drinking. I couldn't cope with my infidelity, and so drinking was a good option. I hung around the bar for almost an hour, while big black men came and went, always hitting on me. Some would grab me by the waist, or caress my arm—I felt like they knew what I had done, but that was crazy, right? I was just being paranoid. Anyways, I finally saw my husband and we just got in a cab and left. At least I think that's what happened—I was pretty drunk and my memory was a bit hazy.
I walked toward the kitchen; I was parched and I needed water, and maybe also some fucking advil. It was okay that I was topless; the kids were both out visiting their grandparents this weekend. I grabbed a glass and pulled the tab on our Brita water filter. I looked down at my panties. Fuck—it was so obvious that these were caked in dry cum. Did my husband see them? Did he know? I slid my cum-covered panties off my toned ass and looked at them. I could smell Marcus' rich cum on them, and just thinking about what happened started to make me wet in my pussy. What the hell is wrong with me, I thought? I decided to throw them into the trash can under the sink—I didn't ever want to see those silky, cum-caked panties and be reminded by my infidelity to my husband who I loved so much.
I found my phone on the coffee table; I must have left it there last night? I slid the screen to unlock it, and noticed I had an email notification. That was odd for Sunday morning? I opened up my email application on my phone and noticed an email from BigBlackDick4UrSlutHoles@gmail.com. My heart dropped—what the fuck was this? I clicked the message, hoping it was just spam. But as the message loaded on my smartphone, I knew this was not spam. It read:
Hey Shelly,
You were such a filthy black cock slut last night. I'm so hard just thinking about how you took Marcus' dick in your ass while you both cummed last night. Unfortunately for you, I saw the whole fucking thing, from you sucking his big, black dick, to you getting creampied in both your slutty cunt holes. You don't believe me? Check the attachments to this email, bitch. And if you don't want these picture to get forwarded to your husband, you will meet me at Misty Lounge in the King room at 8 pm tonight. Wear one of your daughters' slutty, short dresses and don't fucking wear any god damn underwear.
See you soon, you fucking whore,
BigBlackDick4UrSlutHoles
What the fuck is going on, I thought? My heart was racing as I opened the attachments. There were a few pictures and a video. The first picture was me walking into the kitchen with Marcus. The next one was me on my knees sucking his big black dick. Jesus. Someone had been watching the whole time—it looked as though from the staircase in the corner. There were no lights on in that corner; I suppose someone could have been there the whole time? How could I have been so stupid! The next picture was me bent over the fucking counter taking that enormous dick in my pussy. The high resolution of the picture revealed how wet my pussy had been, and the cream I had deposited on Marcus' dick. Shit—that dick was so big, I thought. How the hell did I ever take that—looking at the picture it was unbelievable how stretched out my pussy was. As much as I hated it, looking at these pictures was turning me on. I swiped to the next picture—it was Marcus fucking me in my ass. Shit, I thought as I felt my rear end. It did hurt, which made sense because I had never been fucked in my virgin asshole before, but it also felt good. I next clicked the video—and Marcus popped up on the screen, grunting and groaning as he filled my ass, then my pussy, with his hot cum. The video revealed the cum dripping out of my holes as I pulled my panties in place. And then it ended.
Holy shit—I'm so fucked, I thought. How the hell did someone get these pictures? If my husband ever sees this, he'll never forgive me! I slumped in the couch, and started thinking. I could choose to not meet this stranger at the Misty Lounge tonight, but what if he chooses to send James the pictures? Then my life is ruined! What if I go and don't meet his demands? What if I do show up in a slutty number, and still sends the incriminating evidence to James? I felt trapped—I had no good options here. I started to cry, as I thought about the mess I had created for myself. I should have never offered to suck Marcus' dick, and I definitely shouldn't have let that escalate the way it had. I was such a dumb slut, I thought, and I didn't deserve someone as good as James. Still, I needed to try to save our marriage, and I decided I would go to the Misty Lounge and meet this guy and try to reason with him.
At 7:30 pm, I grabbed a cab to the Misty
Lounge. I had told James I had a girl's night, and he didn't bat an eye. I was dressed in one of my daughters' little dresses. It had a deep v-neck that dipped several inches below my breasts. I had bigger boobs than my daughter, too, so the dress really slowed off my bust. The bottom of the dress hugged my firm, toned ass, but it barely covered it. I kept having to pull it down to make sure I wasn't flashing everyone. This was even more important because, as the stranger had demanded, I was not wearing ay underwear, and my bare pussy and asshole were totally exposed.
When I arrived at the Misty Lounge—a place that I had never been—I realized that this was a young and trendy place. All the girls were dressed up and looking to be fucked. The guys were hot and young as well. I recognized some of these people, I thought,, as friends of my children who were eighteen-year-old high-school seniors. I suppose they all had fake IDs to get in even though there were 18, I thought? I asked a waitress where the "King" room was and she pointed toward a side room with a curtain door. As I made my way in that direction, I realized my heart was racing. I was going to meet this guy, and take control of the situation. I was going to demand that he give me back the original pictures and video and never bother me again.
I parted the curtain and met my blackmailer. Shit, I thought. This was Marcus' son, Darius. "Hey slutty ma," he cooed at me. I knew Darius for a long time—he played football and basketball with my son. He was also a senior and had turned 19 recently—he had been held back in school once. Next to Darius was a little, uninterested-seeming, blonde girl with flat boobs and a tight ass. Also in the room were three other black guys that I had never met. "I'm glad you decided to show up, bitch," Darius continued, "because I will not hesitate to send this shit to your husband."
"Please, Darius," I pleaded. "You don't need to do this. That would ruin my marriage," I continued.
"Bitch, you think I care about that?" he replied. "Nah, I don't give a damn. But when I saw my dad nutting up in your fuckholes, I thought to myself, I want a slice of that fine white ass." He approached me, and I rearranged my short dress to make sure I was fully covered up. As he drew near, I could smell his thick cologne and the smell of weed on him. He grabbed me by the waist, and started to pill my short dress upward. "No!" I vehemently objected.