Susan And The Black Farm Labourers Ch 11

I think the next day was Wednesday. I went to work while Susan slept. She texted me at about 11 a.m. and then at noon texted again to say William would pick her up shortly.

"I'm wearing clothes, lol," she texted. "Dress. William here now."

There wasn't much I could do. I was at work and no chance to leave. So at about 2 p.m. I texted her and asked her to text me a photo of herself.

"K" she responded. "Two minutes."

I waited. Staring at my laptop screen. It was more like five minutes, but my phone dinged and I was looking at a picture of Susan sitting in the farm truck. She had her back against the door, her feet up on the bench seat with her knees bent, and her legs spread about 18 inches at the knees. Her dress turned out to be a mid-thigh length multi-coloured sundress — African print ironically — and it was bunched up around her waist. One hand was down touching her clit. Her cunt was engorged and the lips were apart revealing a very wet orifice. Whether she'd had cock in it yet, I couldn't tell, but over the years it had milked dozens to completion. She was smiling mischievously and her hair was sort of pulled back by the force of the wind in the moving truck. I smiled. The most beautiful fuck on the planet and she was enjoying whatever they were doing. I could see a bit of wispy smoke, so I knew there was a joint burning.

I enlarged the photo, examining her pussy, then her face. She had glassy eyes and a bemused sort of smile. But when I zoomed out a bit I noticed a blurred building in the background that they were driving by. It took me a minute, but I was pretty sure it was an old factory in a slum area of a town a hundred kilometres away. A sort of ghetto. Mixed races with a few neighbourhoods you might want to stay clear of.

"You look very fuckable," I texted back. "Slumming?"

"I guess," she texted. "W says not to worry, mon! lol."

I texted back asking her to text me every half hour or so, in case something happened. And to text a few more pics as the afternoon unfolded.

I got another picture about 20 minutes later. Susan at a pool table surrounded by a half dozen Black guys. She's leaning up against the table. Two guys are looking at the camera. Two are looking off to the side and two are looking at my wife and smiling. She still has her clothes on.

"W took this," she texted, in reference to the photo. "Wait a sec."

I waited a few minutes and another photo appeared, Susan sitting on the pool table, legs apart, holding her dress up so it's revealing her pussy, stomach, and the bottoms of her firm breasts. She's looking up at a big Black man who is leaning on the table, a hand flat on the felt just beside her. Another guy has his hand on one of her knees as if he's holding her legs apart.

"Place is busy," she texted. "W talking to guys."

She later told me the place was a sort of a bar with three pool tables in a room at the back. The front was pretty busy and there were a dozen guys and a couple of women in the back.

"William knew people. He was with this one guy back in a corner," she told me later. "I didn't hear what they were talking about. But he came back over and that's when I got him to take those photos I sent you. After that it didn't take long for things to happen."

William and the guy in the photo leaning beside her ushered her through a door and up some stairs and down a hallway into a small room that could have been somebody's apartment. Tiny kitchenette, bathroom, and a living/dining area with a sofa bed.

"It was pretty run down," she said. "The Black guy was probably 40 and owned the bar with his brother. William introduced me to Marques who just smiled at me, nodded to William, and set down at a little square coffee table, opened a little black box, and proceeded to roll a joint."

He licked the paper and zipped it up and lit it. A few little hits to get it going and then a big one. He motioned for Susan to sit down next to him on the love seat as he held the smoke in and then turned to her, put his hand to her face and squeezed her mouth open, put his lips on hers, and blew the smoke into her lungs. She held it, exhaled, and he did it a couple more times. The shotguns in quick succession had her buzzing in just a few minutes. He gave her the joint and rolled another one.

"I was stoned and looking around the place," she said. "It was clean enough but everything was old. The carpet was worn through in some places. Broken plaster walls and ceiling. A bare light bulb hanging down. There was a book shelf, a TV on a stand, DVD player, a couple of old stuffed armchairs, the coffee table, love seat, and an end table beside the sofa."

She smoked the joint, but she was getting way too stoned so she offered it to William. Marques lit the second joint and toked for a few minutes, then pinched it out and put it in an ashtray. He got up and in a practiced motion pulled the folding bed out of the sofa to fill most of the rest of the room.

Marques motioned to Susan to the bed. She stood there like she was one an auction block as he sized her up. He lifted her dress up to examine her body, then lifted it over her head. He took a tit in each hand and hefted them, squeezed them, ran a hand down between her legs and his fingers came back up covered in her juices. He turned her around and pushed her back so she leaned over the bed. He pushed her legs apart and played with her buttocks, lubed two of his fingers in her pussy and worked them into her puckered ass.

"I was breathing hard," she said. "Almost panting. And dripping. All I could smell was my pussy."

Marques pulled his fingers out of my wife's body and she stood up and turned in time to see him nod to William. He unbuckled his belt, pulled his zipper down and lowered his jeans to his knees. His cock was hard and my wife sucked it for a few minutes, savouring the sweet taste of his plentiful pre-cum that oozed into her mouth.

Soon she was on her back on the bed and this big Black guy she had never met until 20 minutes before was crawling on top of her tiny body as she helped guide his 10 inches into her pulsing pussy.

"He was a big guy," Susan said. "Maybe a few inches over six feet and at least 220 pounds. He started pumping and I started cuming. The more I came the more he liked it. My juices were coating his cock, covering his balls, dripping down my ass, soaking the bed. I could see my cunt lips stretched out along his big dick every time he pulled out. I could feel them and how that motion pulled on my clit. There was a big white ring of my lubrication at the base of his cock."

His balls slapped her ass, adding to the pleasure.

Then he was on his back and she was sitting on his cock in reverse cowgirl. She looked up to see William with a video camera recording Marquis' thrusts up into her as she leaned back with her hands behind her on his chest. Her tits bounced with each thrust and her head was tilted back and her eyes unfocused. Her mouth was screwed up in a look that could only have been a mix of pain and pleasure.

"He finished me off from behind," she said. "I was on my knees draped over the bed. He was standing up, but squatting down with his cock way up inside me. When he came it was a hot pressure that seemed to be repeated with each spurt."

I've seen the video. When Q finally pulls out it's a gush of Blackman's sperm from Susan's gaping pussy that cascades out of her onto that threadbare carpet. They had a few more tokes and a drink of orange juice (Susan needs a lot to drink when she fucks) and then William takes his turn, flipping Susan in various positions, finally coming in her pussy.

And then Marques pulls his cock back out and Susan's back on her knees sucking his meat for five minutes or so until he tilts her head back, makes her open wide, and proceeds to jerk off in her mouth. Long ropes of cum splash on her tongue, hit her nose, roll down her chin. But most of it's in her mouth and when he's done she's scoops up the rest and sucks her fingers. Her expression, as all of this happens, shows that she truly enjoys taking cum in her mouth and swallowing it.

"Okay, she's the real deal," he said to William when he was done draining his jizz into my wife's stomach. "Most pretend to like it but they really hate — you can tell. She loves it. She's a natural whore in all ways."

As he says that last part Susan is sucking the last drops of cum from his cock, the big head going into her mouth a few inches — but almost filling it.

"All told we fucked in that room for probably 45 minutes," Susan said later that night. "Q folded the bed back up and he and William discussed business."

She texted me a photo at about that time, a selfie of her face, neck, and most of her tits. Her eyes were bloodshot and there was a little bit of what could only be cum in her hair. In the background I saw a Black guy but it was too blurred. The text that accompanied it simply said "fucked." Then "good."

William told Marques that in a month or so he and his crew would be gone. Chances are they would be back the next spring, but nothing was certain. William would let Q know when they were leaving and it would be up to him to make sure Susan was properly fucked by Black cock on a regular and continuous basis. In the meantime, she would visit Q a few times to maybe meet a few of Q's friends and get used to the new situation.

Marques nodded a bunch of times, and said she'd be well looked after. They were toking the entire time and Susan said she felt like she was floating. All she could feel of her body was her clit and a sensation that there was still cock inside her cunt. Which of course kept her wet.

"You saw all those brothers down there," Q said, nodding towards the door. "Won't be no problem. We get a lot of white cunts here lookin' for Black dick. This one's pretty fine. I know I'll have to beat them off a her. Or double them up so everybody gets a turn."

It was pretty much true. Since that day Susan has spent perhaps 50 or 60 nights in that room so far, mostly looking at the broken plaster of the ceiling as she lay on her back taking cock. Q refers to her as their "go-to" cunt — meaning if somebody is horny and aren't hooked up with a wife or girlfriend they fuck my wife. And many who do have significant others still fuck Susan. But that's another story. I'll get to that later.

When they finished discussing Susan, she went to the bathroom and cleaned up the best she could in her pot-induced state. She put the dress back on and they went back down the hallway, down the narrow flight of stairs, and into the back room where different Black guys were playing pool. There were a couple of tables and Susan, William, and Marques sat at one. They ordered drinks and Q called a couple of guys over.

"Get up and take the dress off," Q told Susan. "Then these guys are going to walk you around for a few minutes and introduce you to people."

Susan's inhibitions were lowered by the pot, but also by all the exhibitionism of the last few days. She looked at William, who nodded. She stood up and pulled the dress up to reveal her swollen cunt with its hanging lips. Then further over her tits, and finally over her head. Q took the dress and one of the guys took Susan and turned her around a few times, admiring the tiny white, curvy body with the wet cunt and the long, hard nipples.

"She's made for it, man," the guy said. "Lookin' forward to this piece of white slut."

Q laughed. "Soon enough Jalen. Soon enough."

They walked her around, making her pose, spread her legs, lift her breasts, lean over, and do turns so they could see all of her. Jalen used her full name when people asked who she was. A few people came in from the bar out front. She was felt up but not roughed up. After 10 minutes or so they brought her back to the table where she downed her drink. They ordered another and she sat there for another 15 minutes naked in a pool hall with maybe three dozen fully clothed Black men and a half dozen Black women.

"The women felt me up too," she said, with a bit of incredulity in her voice. "They weren't upset or anything. You know, jealous of me or anything. They seemed horny too."

Eventually William said it was time to go. Susan was sitting at the table with her chair turned sideways, as she was told to do, so she was sitting legs apart facing the crowd of people playing pool, drinking, and talking.

"I could feel my cunt, like there was cock still inside me, and I knew it was all red and swollen and the lips were hanging open," she said. "People were looking right up inside me as cum and cunt juice dripped out. I was about as embarrassed and humidified as I've even been — as I'll ever get and all I was wishing was that there were more people looking at me. I wanted to play with myself in front of them. But I knew Marques wanted a display, not a show."

But when William said it was time to go, she was going to put her dress back on but Q stopped her with a shake of his head and put his big hand down on the dress that was folded up on the table.

William stood up and motioned to Susan who got up and followed him. Most people in the bar out front had gone back to check Susan out once word spread. William walked slowly through the crowd, prolonging her exposure. Q was behind her now as they reached the front door. He took Susan's phone and punched in his number and sent a text to his own phone. William handed him a piece of paper and gave Susan the dress which she put on. All eyes were one her up to that point. But when she put the dress on, most lost interest. White cunt, white tits, white ass are worth looking at.

William opened the door and they walked out onto the sidewalk. She'd been there for more than two hours and it was getting on to 4:30 p.m. They got in the truck. Susan got William to take a photo of her which she texted to me. Same pose but well-fucked pussy. William fired up the truck and they head back home. Susan took the dress off as soon as they started driving.

"I think I was expected to just automatically undress for them," she said, meaning undress when she was in the presence of Black men. "We drove for half an hour and then stopped at a fast food place. I put the dress back on."

They were both still horny and were smoking more weed. Susan was naked again and her pussy was soaking the truck seat. She had her phone in her hand and looked at the most recent photo she had sent me but realized there were others about it. She scrolled up to see that William had taken photos of her while Marques was fucking her — a few dozen. And a few when she was walking around on display in the pool hall. She texted me a few and I almost came. One of her sitting on Q's big cock is one hell of an amazing photo — not just because you see his cunt-lubed, giant shaft inside her wet, wide open hole, but the look on her face. She's in the throes of an orgasm and her face is contorted as the spasms rack her body. Her body is soaked in perspiration, and beads of sweat spot her forehead, drip down her neck, and down between her tits. She's pulling up off the cock and her cunt lips are pulled out along the shaft. The Black cock glistens with juice and the base is coated in her lubrication and it finds its way down to soak his balls.

It was about an hour after I received that photo that William pulled in the driveway. Susan came in first with William right behind her. She was wearing the dress. They were both stoned.

"We stopped to fuck on the way back," she said. "Oh my god what a day, hon! William gave me to a guy who owns a bar. My body. When William and the guys are gone, Marques owns me!"

She was sort of babbling, gushing. Animated.

I got most of it from her before she took William upstairs. And William later told me the nuts and bolts. She would go to Marques' bar every Friday evening, starting downstairs but ending up in the apartment for the night. She'd return home the next day. Friday night was not negotiable and she would do exactly what she was told. If she wanted to spend other nights there, that was fine. As many nights as she wanted. The piece of paper he had given Q was Susan's name, address, phone numbers, email addresses, and some other details.

I guess it was 8 p.m. when my wife and William went up to the bedroom. I could hear them fucking off and on for maybe an hour and a half. They came downstairs just before 10 p.m. for something to eat and a few drinks. Neither of them was wearing anything. William's big cock hung down almost to his knees it seemed, and Susan had a difficult time taking her eyes off it and her hand was between her own legs a fair bit, playing with her wet and open hole. She'd bury three fingers all the way in and hook them up as she rubbed they sensitive spongey erogenous spot, pulling her slick fingers out and sucking them off. Neither William nor I could take our eyes off what was between her legs.

They went back up stairs about 11 p.m. and I heard them going at it for another hour.

I finally went up to the bedroom to see what was happening but they were asleep - Susan on her side and William was spooned in behind her. The table lamp was still on, and with the light from the hall way it was enough to illuminate the place where their bodies were still joined.

His big cock was still buried inside my wife's loose cunt. Granted it was only semi-hard, but it was still an impressive sight. She was leaning back on him with her top leg up and her knee bent so it was propped up. William's hand was on his massive thigh and between my wife's legs helping prop up the top one. It was like they fell asleep in mid-thrust.

The wet, sticky hole into her body where her legs joined was clutching his Black meat. I could only see an inch or so that wasn't inside her. His other arm was around her back, between her arm and chest, and back up in front of her with his big hand cradling one of her tits. His sperm and her cunt juice soaked the sheets, was smeared all over her inner thighs, and I could see her fingers were sticky with cum. Black on white. Black in white.

I guess they'd been up there long enough to fuck a couple of times. I quietly videoed them - just a minute or so, getting in close to where his cock disappeared into her. Susan's dress had been shed downstairs earlier as they took part in a little foreplay, but William's shorts and t-shirt were draped over a chair. His size 12 sneakers were placed neatly beside the chair. So neat compared to the tangled mess of blankets and sheets on the bed and floor. But unbridled fucking isn't always neat and tidy.

I knew there was no waking my wife. She'd had two drinks in the afternoon, toked most of the day, and had a couple more drinks when she got home. Then two more. This Marques guy had fucked her, William had fucked her, and then he'd fucked her again on the way home, and yet again in the bedroom.

And William looked like he was out for the night.

I went back downstairs and found a reply email from Dave. He said he'd be there as soon as he could reasonably disengage himself from projects he was involved in. Within a week or two he thought. In the meantime he was doing a little bit of investigation into the Remington situation.

"I downloaded everything from the dropbox folders," he said in his email. "Never thought I'd see Susan go all the way over to the Black side, but she's there. All the way. We might have trouble getting her back. Of course, maybe you want her Black-owned. She's certainly built for it. Maybe even what she was meant for. Some white women are."

He was sort of joking.

I emailed back and told him about Marquis and the bar he and his brother owned — Bullrun it was called — and how my wife had jumped at the plan to spend Friday nights there. And I asked Dave where he was. Turns out he was in Jamaica.

I crashed on the bed in the sunroom where I'd spent so many recent nights. Sometime just as dawn was near by I heard William sneak downstairs and let himself out through the kitchen. His truck roared to life and he was gone.