Tammy Ch 04

I enjoy comments on my stories, both the public ones and the private ones. Suggestions and opinions are welcome. But some comments on my past stories suggest that there should have been some warning about the theme. This is an erotic story involving interracial play and married women straying from their husband. If the idea of a black man fucking a married white woman bothers you, you should move on to another story.

As an Introduction, I'm Devon, a 32 year-old black man now living in Chicago, the city where I was born and raised. I work for a mid-sized investment bank and travel a fair amount. I'm 6' 4" and a good athlete, all city in high school basketball and all state in football. I received a scholarship to play college football on the west coast, where I was an all conference tight end freshman year, but a severe off the field injury curtailed my career. So I hit the books got a degree in economics, and then an MBA, and I now have a pretty good life.

My weakness, or at least my kink, is married women. Specifically, white married women. No use psychoanalyzing the motives, but there are aspects, which I will over time describe, that just make married white women much more of a sexual turn on than more "normal" relationships. My other kink is I'm a dominant man -- not that I enjoy inflicting pain or wearing weird attire, but I know what I enjoy and clearly communicate my desires and expectations. Typically, my playmates are older than me, but not always. Sometimes I meet them on line (which I prefer) before we meet in person, but sometimes the original meeting is in person. Most of these experiences have been during the past five years, although there are some exceptions. I'm not telling these experiences in chronological order -- just the order of what's in my head when I'm writing.

To get more background on Tammy, you can read the previous Tammy chapters.

The next morning I flew to Dallas for a couple of days. Late that afternoon I texted Tammy and told her to call me on her way home.

I answered, "How's my favorite BBC slut?"

"Honestly a bit sore. But very satisfied. How are you?"

"Wishing you were with me in Texas. But I have good news. I found a league for Greg. It's about 15 minutes from your house, so he doesn't have to go all the way into the city. They play on Sunday mornings."

"Wow that was quick."

"Well I had to grant a favor."

"What favor?"

"I agreed to play as well."

"What about your other team?"

"I'll still play with them. This Sunday league will give me the chance to work on other aspects of my game. I won't have to exert myself as much."

"I wouldn't want you to be totally spent. I hope you still have energy for me."

"Just keep dressing for me the way you do. You make me feel nuclear powered."

And, all of a sudden, it hit her. I could almost hear the tumblers click into place.

"Oh my god. That means you'll be meeting Greg."

"Yep. Here's the thing though. I need to know whether he's in by tomorrow. The first game is this Sunday. My friend was about to ask two other guys to play. He said he'd hold off for a day, but no longer."

"How will I ask him?"

"Just tell him you texted your patient, and he told you about the league. He doesn't need to know about the two for one deal."

"I'm almost home. I'll let you know."

The next morning she texted me.

"Greg wants to play."

"Good. Send me his number and I'll text him the details. What about you?"

"Um, I don't think I'd be a very good player."

"I mean, when are we going to meet next?"

"Friday morning?"

"Good. That's your payment for getting Greg into the league."

"I was going to be there anyway."

"True. But I want you feeling particularly indebted to me."

"Ha ha."

I texted Greg an introduction and told him about the league. It was held at a local high school gym. It was a weird structure. Six teams. For the first five weeks we played a five-game round robin. Then in weeks six through ten, both teams would show up, but there would be a scramble so that players would be intermixed. The idea was to ensure no team dominated the competition. The first game was Sunday at noon, but we should show up at 11:30 to meet the guys and get some shots up. He thanked me.

Then it was Friday morning. At 6:30 there was a knock on the door, and there she was. And it was even hotter than before for three reasons. First was her dress. It was white, sheer, and hugged her body perfectly. She was not wearing a bra. I could see all her curves as if she wasn't wearing anything. And her nipples were huge. It seemed like they might poke a hole through the material. It was unbuttoned very low -- one more button down and those nipples would be exposed. Second, even though it was mid-winter, she wasn't wearing a coat. That meant anyone on the street or in the building, and in particular the doorman, saw her dressed that way. She was completely embracing her inner slut. And third, I knew that in two days I would be meeting her husband. That was a unique experience for me.

We kissed deeply. My hand couldn't help but find her breast, and her hand went to my dick, which was already hard.

I said, "You look fucking amazing."

"You did say I was indebted to you. Does this pay off the debt?"

"It covers the interest. But you need to work on the principal."

She dropped to her knees and slid down my shorts. She looked me in the eye, licked up and down my dick. Then she moved to my balls. Then she engulfed my dick. Even after all the blow jobs she had given me, she found a way to make each one unique. As my head was going down her throat, her lips were putting great pressure around my shaft as she took me deeper. She was recreating the sensation of fucking her pussy, but using her throat and lips to do it.

I said, "You are the perfect married whore."

That made her take me all the way down her throat, and fucking my dick with her mouth, making those delicious gagging noises. Her tongue was also pushing against my dick. Her mouth was begging for my cum. As she felt me start to cum, she let my dick partially out of her mouth, just holding a few inches between her lips, and grasped and stroked the rest of my wet dick with her hand, pumping it hard. I must have shot eight or nine loads into her mouth, which made her moan. She continued to grasp me hard, and as she pulled me out of her mouth, she purposely let some of her cum leak out of her mouth, onto her lips, cheeks, and chin. She pumped her hand some more, and the sight made me shoot a couple more loads onto her face. Which she wiped off with her fingers, making a show of licking her fingers clean.

She said, "I crave the taste of your cum."

That almost made me cum some more. She cleaned up a bit, and we sat on my couch, cuddling and talking.

She said, "Greg can't stop talking about Sunday. He's been to the gym the last two nights, and he told me he would be there all day tomorrow."

"That's cute. He does know this isn't the NBA. Right?"

"To him it is."

Thinking about meeting Greg made me hard again. Tammy noticed and started stroking, and then sucking my dick. But I wanted to reward her. So I led her to the bed, and slowly fucked her deeply to several orgasms. She then licked me clean, and then let me face fuck her until, for the second time that morning, I shot my cum into her mouth.

Saturday I did my regular routine, playing ball and visiting my parents. One of my sisters said she needed some help moving furniture in her apartment the next morning, and normally I would help her. But I said I had plans, and luckily my older brother volunteered to help.

Sunday was the big day. The gym was about a 20-minute drive from my condo. I got there about 11:15. A few minutes later Greg showed up. I could barely recognize him from Tammy's social media page. I introduced myself to him. I could tell from his reaction that he didn't know I was black and I quietly chuckled to myself. We started shooting in the auxiliary gym. Then Andrew, the guy who put the team together, arrived. We gathered around to meet. Andrew introduced us to each other. He saved me for last, pointing out that he had seen me play in high school, and I had made all city. One of the other players, Phil, said it was good I was on the team because I could play center. I frowned to Andrew who nodded to me.

One of the reasons I don't play a lot of pick-up basketball is because when I show up at a playground and guys don't know me, they see my 6'4" height and immediately think "there's our big man." But when I played high school, and even in competitive leagues, coaches and teammates could see my passing, driving, and wing defense as being much more important than just my height. When I play pick up, by the time I start showing my skills, the game is over, and it's time to start anew. That's why I like my Saturday league. I never match up against the other team's big man, although I do get my share of rebounds and blocked shots. And on offense I get the opportunity to make my team win.

Andrew spoke up, "Phil, when you see Devon's game, you'll know that he's more valuable outside. You're going to be our 5 (basketball speak for center)."

We then started shooting and loosening up. I watched Greg and the other players. Andrew was the 2nd best player, and Greg was an average player on an average team. I spoke to Andrew and said I felt responsible for Greg, so whenever he was in the game, I'd like to be in the game as well. Then it was time to play.

I focused on not trying to do too much, since I had played hard the day before. I mainly relied on defense and passing, driving to the basket but passing off to an open player. In particular, I looked for Greg, who had a lot of open shots because I drew the defense to me. In the 3rd quarter, the defense started backing off of me, looking for me to pass. So I hit three shots in a row, two layups and a jumper, and then the defense had to respect me. In the 4th quarter I didn't shoot at all, drawing the defense to me and mostly finding Greg. We stretched our lead and won the game easily.

Most of players were savvy enough to realize what I did.

Phil spoke loudly, and said, "I don't see what the big deal is about his game. I had more points than him.

Andrew said, "Shut up Phil. All your points came on assists from him."

Then Andrew took me aside and said, quietly, "He is partially right. Some of the shots you passed up were ones you should have taken."

I said, "We won by 15. Don't worry, if I need to score, I'll score."

Andrew smiled and patted me on the back. After we showered up, I asked Greg if he wanted to grab some lunch. He said sure.

We met at a casual place a few minutes away. We ordered and started to chat.

Greg said, "Thanks for getting me on the team. I was nervous. It's been a while since I played."

I quietly smiled as the evil part of my brain was activated. I thought, "That was exactly what his wife had said to me a few weeks ago, after I fucked her for the first time."

I said, "You looked good out there."

"You helped make me look good."

I thought to myself, "Helped? I was the sole reason you looked good." But I let him live out his belief.

He asked, "Why didn't you play college ball?"

"I had to make a choice. Football or basketball. The football offers were from better schools. Plus, I loved the contact of football."

"What do you do for work?"

"Investment banking."

"Wow, surprising."

I knew what he meant, but I wanted to see how this progressed. "How so?"

He stuttered, "I guess ... I mean ... I've heard of investment bankers, but never actually met someone who worked for an investment bank."

"What about you?"

"I'm in middle management."

"Interesting." It really wasn't.

As our food was served, he changed the subject to personnel life. I thought here it goes. Married guys love talking to single guys about their sex life. It happens to me at work all the time. Most of my work colleagues are married and they can't stop asking me about my dating habits and sex life.

He asked, "What do you do for fun?"

Again, the evil part of me thought, "I do your wife for fun." But, I said, "I work really long hours. I play basketball, work out, and spend a lot of time with my parents and siblings on the weekends."

"So no wife or girlfriend?"

"Nope."

"Dating?"

"Why, do you have a single friend you want to fix me up with?" Or, I thought, "A wife?"

He was taken aback. "No. Sorry, I didn't mean to --"

"It's O.K. I just reacted. I've had many offers to get fixed up. Too many offers. I guess that's the price of being single in my 30s. But to answer your question, yes, I date, but no one serious. I don't want to feel committed."

"That makes sense."

"It's sometimes hard to find women who don't want a commitment, but there are enough."

"Sound like that's the life. In fact, I think most of my friends would envy that life."

"Because they're married?"

"Yeah."

"It doesn't have to be one way or another."

"What do you mean by --"

At that point our server came by, a very shapely woman in her early 20s.

She asked, "Are you going to order anything else?"

I said, "I think we're good."

Greg nodded.

"Cause I'm going on break, and if it's OK with you, I'm going to close out the check. You can stay here as long as you want."

I said, "That will be fine. Here's my card."

"I'll be right back."

Greg said, "You didn't have to do that. I should be buying. You did me a huge favor by getting me in the game."

"No problem. The next time you can buy."

"Well, thanks for feeding me."

Evil me smiled again, and thought, "That's what Tammy says. Right after she drinks every last drop of my cum."

The server came back. I signed the card and left her a huge tip. She smiled wide.

"Thank you!"

I said, "Don't thank me. Thank him. He's reimbursing me for the tip. As long as you give him great service like this in the future."

She smiled at him and said, "Thank you!"

After she left, he asked, "Why'd you tell her that?"

"No harm. I thought maybe you would be into her. She's not my type."

"What did you mean before when you said it doesn't have to be one way or another."

"Many married people have other relationships."

"Hmmm, I don't know any."

"You mean, you don't know any who talk about it with you. They're worried about being judged by you. I promise you. Several of your married friends are, or have been, involved with others. Statistics don't lie."

"I've heard that. But I think they're made up."

"Trust me. They're not."

"You have first-hand knowledge?"

"I do."

"Wow! And the husband knows?"

"Husbands, plural. Yes. And approve. And I'm sure in most of those cases, the husband also has his playmates and the wife knows and approves."

"I'm surprised."

"Take that hot babe who served us. I'm sure if you had shown any interest in her, she would have been thrilled to go out with you. I kind of set you up for that. I'm surprised you didn't take the bait."

"My wife wouldn't approve."

"Have you asked her?"

"No. I just know she wouldn't."

"You might be surprised. I've been with couples. And they will tell me that they never would have thought they would be in this position until they talked honestly about it."

"Wait! You've been with couples? Both the husband and the wife?"

"So to speak. I've been with the wife while the husband watched. And some told me it's also been the other way in the past -- the wife occasionally watches her husband with another woman."

"Wow. I'm trying to picture it."

"It can be amazingly powerful. For all three. For me, the thrill of being watched. For her, the eroticism of having a different partner. For him, also the eroticism. And learning. And losing control. And the ability to play in his own games. In many cases, it's more of a turn on for him than for me or her."

"Sorry if I'm asking too many questions."

"It's fine. You seem cool. But, I do need to get going. See you next week?"

"Yep."

The next morning brought Tammy to my door. Another sexy outfit. More dick sucking. Some deep fucking which ended up with her licking her cum off of my dick and swallowing a load of my cum. After which we talked.

I asked, "Did Greg say anything about the game?"

"It's all he talked about during dinner. And then after dinner, when it was just the two of us, he talked about your lunch after. I heard so much about you yesterday I almost didn't come this morning."

"But yet you came anyway."

"Hearing about you is one thing. Experiencing you is something else."

"What did he say about lunch?"

"How wild your sex life is. When he started telling me, I got worried. I thought you were talking about us. But then I realized you were telling him about the same past experiences you told me about."

"I embellished a bit to him. Guy talk. Did I shock his sensibilities?"

"No. I think he wishes he was you. Oh, and one other thing. He said some of the players had wives or girlfriends attend. He asked if I wanted to come."

"Will you?"

"I wanted to check with you first."

"I don't mind."

"Good. Then I will be there Sunday."

"Are you attending as a wife or a girlfriend."

She laughed. "Publicly a wife. And privately, as --"

I cut her off. "As a BBC slut."

She gave me a nasty smile.

I saw her again on Friday, and Sunday it was gametime. This week's game started at 11:00. Before the game Greg told me his wife was there. I almost said "I know," but caught myself. As soon as we walked onto the court, I looked in the stands. Only a few people were there, so it was easy to spot Tammy. Not dressed in her typical early morning attire -- that was too much to hope for. But she looked nice, and I was amped up knowing she was there.

Still, I wanted to play the same type of game as last time, although I worked a bit harder on defense. I got a few steals and more than half of our rebounds. On offense I scored when I needed but mostly distributed the ball -- Greg was the primary beneficiary. We won by 12 against a better team than last week. I did notice I was a little winded at the end of the game, probably because I exerted more on defense.

After the game Greg asked if I wanted to have lunch. I said I thought his wife was with him, but he told me they drove separately. We went to the same restaurant, and had the same server, who greeted us warmly. While she was getting our drinks, we had some idle chat. I changed the subject slightly.

"Was your wife wearing a blue coat?"

"Yeah, that was her."

"I thought so."

"I thought you already knew her."

"She was working for a medical test I had. I wasn't paying much attention then. But today I noticed her cheering for you."

"I didn't think that was obvious."

"It was. That's nice. She's a very good looking woman."

The server returned. After she took our orders, I said, "She seems interested."

"I wouldn't know how to do this. Plus I don't think my wife would approve."

"I know I said this before, but unless you talk about it, you'll never know."

He laughed. "Maybe you can put me in touch with those married couples you were with. They can coach me."

"I'm sure each of them has their own story. But the point is, they communicated, and because of that, they both enjoyed their experience."

"How did you meet them? At a club?"

"Nah, that's the stuff of fantasy. There are many websites, but mostly I use fetlife."

"What's fetlife?"

"A website where you can list your fetishes, and you can search for people who have similar ones, or they can find you. You can also get recommendations."

"What are your feitshes?"

"Well for one, that I'm willing to be watched by the husband, although that's not necessary. Another is I'm dominant. I control everything. I set rules, and they are to be followed."