A Little Something Extra

Author's Note: This story is dedicated to my friend, muse, and co-conspirator, Just Plain Bob. Without the inspiration of his "Becoming A Slut Wife" series... well, you get the idea. You guys might want to hold your applause 'til the end on this one. Otherwise, you might get the wrong idea....

***

Puppy-dog eyes.

Yeah, that's it; puppy-dog eyes. That was the way Bobby, my darling husband, was looking at me; sad, pleading – wounded. From the moment we met at one of his boss's parties, Bobby had always feasted on me with his eyes. I made sure those eyes never went hungry. Boobs? Buns? Taut body? Killer legs, all the way up to my neck? Yes, yes, yes, and U Betcha; the best that money, surgery, and a daily workout regimen could create! I dressed to show everything off to its best advantage, too. My Bobby works hard all day, the latest

wunderkind

of the investment banking world, hauling down that nice six-figure income with which to pamper me. It was my mission in life to be the biggest, best trophy a man could ever hope for – and bring a little something extra to the table, to make all his hard work worthwhile. Keep up with

that,

Mister and Misses Jones! Speaking of Joneses, Bobby was sporting one – to the best of his ability. I would make this night – our fifth wedding anniversary – one he would remember for a long, long time.

***

It was almost anti-climactic, really. I had been planning this moment very, very carefully for three months. Our anniversary dinner (at home, at my insistence) had been exquisite;

Chateaubriand

and

Bordeaux

for two, by candlelight.

CSO

, with Solti conducting, performed Mozart softly on the stereo.

Can I create a mood, or can't I? The main course was over. Bobby had given me an anniversary gift; an exquisite black lace peignoir set, no doubt hideously expensive. Gee, what could he possibly have in mind? I poured more wine. Bobby and I lingered, holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes longingly, as we had done since we first met. It was one of those 'perfect moments' in space and time, just the three of us; Bobby, me, and my good friend, Mickey.

"Are you ready for dessert?" I murmured suggestively.

My husband nodded his assent somewhat drunkenly, a silly smile on his lips. His eyelids began to droop. He blinked a couple of times, fighting it, then...

Plop!

It was just like in the movies. I rose from my seat, moved to my loving husband's side, and lifted his face out of the remnants of twice-baked potato and

au jus.

After assuring myself nothing had lodged where it would impede his breathing, I propped his limp form against the backrest and held it in place with one hand. I left the mess on his face; that would just add to the embarrassment. Then, I flipped open my cell phone and hit Speed Dial.

"Clyde?" I cooed. "We're good to go."

***

Those puppy-dog eyes were awake, responsive – and glued to me. I was giving them a lot to feast on, too. The gossamer-sheer black stockings caressed my legs almost to my bare, hairless pussy. Stiletto-heeled platform sandals, like the strippers wear? Yeah, Baby; Bobby loves 'em! Hair, makeup and nails? Over the top and down the other side – the way Bobby likes his 'slut' when we play our bedroom games. The exquisite black lace peignoir – which had looked

so damn good

on my shapely body - now lay in tatters on the floor next to the bed; ripped from my opulent curves in the heat of passion. I held Bobby's gaze in rapt attention with my own. A silly smirk of a smile split my plush, pouting lips – as twelve inches of dark chocolate python rammed my pussy again and again.

"Clyde?" Bobby whined. "Is that you? What the hell are you doing with my wife? I've worked for you seven years. You are supposed to be my fucking friend."

"That's right, White Bread," Clyde asserted. "And now I'm your

wife's

fucking friend. I don't want you here but

she

does - some kind of grudge thing – but if you don't shut your mouth, I'll move you down the hall to the guest bedroom while I take care of the little woman here. She's obviously more than

you

can handle, anyway."

Clyde's cock was a miracle of human physiology. If you think a woman getting 'coke-canned' is mere urban legend, don't. I'm sure Bobby never will again, nor doubt a woman's reaction to it. My legs were wrapped tightly around Clyde's muscular waist, pulling him into me even deeper. My talons dug into his shoulders, drawing blood. Clyde grunted. I screamed. Bobby's whole body trembled at the sight. Sweat beaded his forehead. Oh, how he wanted to do something about it! He would have, too – if he hadn't been trussed, naked, to a straight-back chair, forcing him to watch helplessly as his gorgeous wife was fucked senseless by her Black lover.

"You like that, Bitch?" Clyde snarled.

"Ooooo, yeah, Daddy," I moaned. "Fuck me

hard

. You know how to do me with that big pipe snake of yours."

"Have you ever had it this good before?" the muscular Black man asked.

"

Fuck no

," I wailed emphatically. "The wimp is so small, I don't even know when he is inside me half the time."

"What?" Bobby shouted. "You always told me..."

"Shut up, Wimp!" I screeched. "You're lucky I let you stay in the same room and watch a

real

man give me what I need."

"Maybe I should let him have you when I'm finished," Clyde chided. "Kind of a mercy fuck."

"You just make sure you get me off my usual dozen or so times, first," I admonished. "Then the wus can do whatever he wants. I won't feel a thing, but maybe

he

will, rattling around in there."

I shrieked my way through my first four orgasms in rapid succession. Clyde flooded my pussy with a load of thick, creamy jizz.

"That's it, Daddy, that's it!" I gasped. "Fill my cunt with your baby brew! I went off The Pill two months ago, just like you told me to. I ovulated this week. After tonight, I'll be pregnant with your baby, just as we planned."

"That's it!" Bobby exploded. "You are

my

wife. I will not allow you to...."

"

Shut...the...fuck...up...STUD,

" I hissed, dripping pure venom on that final epithet. "It's not bad enough there isn't enough of you to get it where it would do any good. For five years, you've been shooting blanks in that milky piss you call 'cum'. I couldn't build a baby with you with an Erector Set – and God knows you need one!"

"But you've been on The Pill..."

"...because I don't

want

your lame-assed baby! With your defective genes, it would probably be born with three eyes and no arms or legs. Now, maybe little 'Mat' would be

your

idea of a perfect child, but he sure wouldn't be

mine

! I want a

real

baby, a

perfect

baby, and I've finally found the right

man

to give me one. Now shut up, sit back, and enjoy the show. Sorry I forgot the

popcorn

!"

"He doesn't mind very well, does he?" Clyde smirked. "I hope the wimp doesn't give us this much trouble raising my baby for me."

"He'll do it with a smile if he ever wants a piece of

this

pussy again!" I shrieked.

"Fuck that!" Clyde snapped angrily. "You're carrying

my

baby, Bitch. I'm not gonna let him pollute it with his lame White slime. As of now, this pussy belongs to me and me alone. If you give him

anything

, you either give him a blowjob or your ass. If the wimp doesn't like that arrangement, I'll just have to fire his punk ass. I promise, he will never work in

this

town again!"

"You tell him, Daddy," I agreed, "and I'll cut him off altogether! He'll have to become your punk bitch to get any at all!"

"Hmmm; 'punk bitch,'" Clyde intoned. "I like the sound of that. Tell you what, White Boy. Just to show you there are no

hard feelings,

and to give you a little incentive to obey me, I'll let you have your fine White wife's ass tonight. I'm such a nice guy, I'll even loosen it up for you...."

"Punk bitch, huh?" Bobby spat. "Untie me, you Nig –"

"That's ENOUGH, you racist little prick," I exploded, "and I DO mean 'little'! I'm

warning

you; if you open your mouth again, I'm gonna fill it up with something you don't even want to

think

about. Shut...the...fuck...UP!"

With that, Clyde flipped me over on all fours and took me anally, doggy-style, without missing a beat. This must have been especially devastating to Bobby, to whom I had been denying access to my little brown button for months. I'm sure it didn't help when, after only a half-dozen thrusts, Clyde was burying his entire fuckstick in my back door up to the hilt. If that wasn't enough, he thrust a dildo almost as big as his own pipe in my pussy. The double assault drove me half-insane with lust.

The big Black bull wouldn't let me budge until I had shuddered through five more climaxes. He flooded my nether spaces with his thick cream somewhere along the way, but showed no sign of having had enough. Apparently, "enough" was not even in his vocabulary tonight. I'm sure Bobby was mortally humiliated to witness the vacant, glazed-over stare of sexual satisfaction in my eyes. That was the point.

My Nubian prince wasn't done with me yet. He pulled his joybar out of the gaping chasm that was now my rear end and stuck it in my mouth. Grabbing my head with both hands, he forcefully fucked my face, pistoning in and out of my mouth like some crazed machine. It seemed like forever before he withdrew it, brushing my lips with his helmet.

"Open wide, Cunt," he snarled. "Don't swallow – yet."

He

must

have a hollow leg; that's where he stores all that cum. No man alive could manufacture that much in such a short time. In moments, my mouth was a lake of goo. Errant spurts had streaked my face, hair, throat, and breasts as well. I felt like such a slut – and loved it.

"Baby,

please,

" Bobby moaned. "Don't do this. I don't know what this is all about, what I did to drive you away, but it's not too late. We can fix this. I'll make amends – whatever it takes. Just stop, okay? Don't betray me. Don't betray

our love.

Clyde? Rebecca is waiting for you at home. Please, just... go. Go home to your wife. Sweetheart? Just stop, untie me, and send Clyde home. We've meant so much to each other. Don't throw it all away."

I knew you couldn't keep your big mouth shut, could you, Baby? I warned you!

"Awww, hubby looks so lost and forlorn over there," Clyde gloated. "Show him you still love him, Bitch. Go over there and give him a kiss."

Oh, Yeaaaaaaah!

I'm certain I looked like the cat who swallowed the canary as I slinked my way slowly across the room to my husband's chair. His eyes bulged in fear. He knew what was coming and struggled mightily against the bonds that held him firmly in place. I straddled his lap, grabbed his hair, and pressed my mouth against his. Bobby resisted my attempts to French him. I could have pinched his nose and waited for him to come up for air. Instead, I encircled his balls with my hand and squeezed, gradually increasing the pressure until his mouth shot open. Caressing his cheek with my other hand, I shared Clyde's creamy treasure with him. He bucked and shuddered within the confines of his bondage as though he had been hit with an electric shock.

Okay, he's sampled the 'medicine'. Now I'll give him a spoonful of sugar to help it go down.

"Hi, Baby," I purred, while he was still coughing and gagging. "Did you miss me? I sure missed you. Don't ever doubt how much I love you. I wish I could make you understand how much I flat-out adore you. I know you would move heaven and earth, fix anything it is humanly possible to fix, to please me. It's just... well, I don't think there is much you can do to fix this...."

I casually fondled his cock, which was sticking straight up between us. It was as big, throbbing, and tumescent as I had ever seen it. Of course, if you compared it with Clyde's....

"You understand I could never give up my big cock, don't you?" I continued. "Not now. It's

way

too late for that. That doesn't mean I can't make

you

happy, Baby. You have no idea what kind of tricks I've learned to make a man feel

real good.

I'll do anything you want, Sweetie; anything at all – except give up my big cock. Please don't fight me on this, Sugar. Don't make trouble. The

last

thing I want to do is hurt you, but if you can't accept this, maybe we'll have to teach you to love big cock, too - just like me. Would you like that?"

I could read the panic in his eyes, the fear ... and more. I knew I would have to soften him up a bit more, break down his barriers, to achieve my goal. It was time for the final act in my carefully-crafted little drama.

"Where are my manners?" I mused whimsically. "I was offering you dessert before we were...

interrupted.

Are you ready for a piece of pie?"

I arose from his lap, lifted my right leg, placed the sole of my sandal firmly on his chest, and shoved. Bobby's chair flew over backwards and crashed to the floor. His head hit a pillow lying on the floor which neatly cushioned the blow. I stepped over his body, straddled his head, and squatted down.

"

Bon appetite

," I cooed, pressing my pussy into his face.

I squeezed his head with my thighs, immobilizing it. With my crotch covering his mouth and nose, he really had no choice. Oh, how he struggled against the inevitable! I simply reached behind me with one hand and softly, lovingly stroked his raging hard-on. His struggles gradually lessened, until they finally ceased.

"Eat it all, Baby," I encouraged softly. "Lick out every drop. Make me nice and clean."

Bobby dutifully did just that. He was mine, now; I knew it, and so did he. But then, he always had been. I lifted my pussy from his face. He looked so... angelic, lying there with cum and pussy juice smeared all around his mouth. I scooped up a palmful of Clyde's spunk that had dribbled down my thigh and smeared it teasingly across Bobby's face, to mix with the combination of my juices and remnants of dinner into which he had passed out earlier. His eyes were as glazed as mine must have been while Clyde was fucking me. As excited as he was - and he

was

excited; I knew my Bobby – he had somehow not yet shot his wad. He was close, though; so very, very close.

Perfect!

"You wait right there, Sweetie," I admonished gently, winking at him. "I'm going to see to our guest. I will be back to take care of you soon."

I slinked towards the door, giving my frustrated mate a good, long look at my lush, undulating backside. I heard him groaning in need and frustration all the way across the room. As I reached the door, I glanced over my shoulder and smiled coyly at him.

"Now, don't go away," I giggled, and left the room.

***

Clyde had slipped out while I was feeding Bobby his cream pie. I thought I had heard the shower running in the bathroom down the hall. When I reached the guest bedroom, my 'guest' was already dressed, just knotting his silk tie. I helped him slip into the coat of his beautiful Armani suit – one of many I had seen on his Olympian physique - and escorted him downstairs to the front door.

"Will Bobby be all right?" he inquired with obvious concern.

"Not to worry," I reassured him. "He will be fine - now."

Clyde signed deeply, showing a little relief, but not much.

"This bothers me," Clyde muttered. "I don't like fucking with my employees' heads, much less their wives."

"You men!" I fussed. Then, softly: "There was a time you couldn't get enough of my pussy."

"That was before I introduced you to my best arbitrage trader – and you

married

him!"

"... for which I will be eternally grateful," I finished. "Think of this as... a finder's fee."

"Five years after the fact," Clyde needled dryly. "I should charge you interest. Was all this 'high drama' necessary?"

"Yuppers," I replied sprightly, "and all for Bobby's benefit. I honestly don't know how you guys do what you do; bearing up under the pressure and emotional stress day after day. Some nights, Bobby comes home with the muscles in his neck and shoulders so tightly knotted, he can't turn his head – and has a splitting headache. I am absolutely, positively, prime-time in love with my husband. He busts his butt every day to make sure we - I - have a comfortable life. It is

my

job to help him unwind, keep his head screwed on straight, and send him out the door the next morning – to make more money for you. Tell me; what do

you

do to unwind after a hard day at work?"

"I come home to a nice, stiff

Chivas

, or two."

"Or three or four," I chided. "Typical self-destructive behavior in the face of stress.

Some guys smoke too much..."

Clyde winced.

"Don't remind me," he mumbled. "It's been a week now. This damn patch helps, but it's no silver bullet. Rebecca would rip my balls out if I fell off the wagon."

"Some do drugs," I continued. "Yeech. Some gamble. Some eat. Some just veg out in front of the television until they go to bed. The common thread in all these behaviors is: escape. Every one of you is seeking your own way to escape the pressure and responsibility of your jobs. As I said, I love my husband. He is

not

going to succumb to any of those slow deaths as long as I draw a breath. The best I can do – the best I know

how

to do – for Bobby's health and wellbeing is to give him sex and plenty of it. There is more to it, of course. Bobby has a visceral need to be dominated. No one knows better than you; He has to be Johnny-on-the-spot, in absolute control of any situation, eight or more hours a day."

"Accent on 'more'," Clyde retorted.

"Accent on 'more'," I confirmed. "Sometimes, when he gets home to me, he's ready to shed control like he sheds his coat and tie. He trusts me to accept that transfer of power and I do not let him down. From time to time, we agree on certain scenarios he would like to explore, in which he is utterly helpless and out of control. It really helps him cope with the stress of the daily grind."

"But," Clyde speculated, "a

cuckold fantasy

?"

"Just one of many," I confirmed. "You should see me in leather or latex."

"I'd sure like to," Clyde effused, grinning.

"Perhaps another time," I giggled. "Honestly, If Bobby said he wanted to see me do it with two midgets and a pony, I would grab the Yellow Pages and be on the phone so fast, it would make your head spin. That wouldn't be as much fun for

me

, of course – except maybe the pony...."

"Why me?" Clyde inquired. "Wouldn't it be more effective to go out to a bar some night and pick up someone he

doesn't

know? It would seem more real, more threatening."

I just rolled my eyes and slipped my arm through his.

"Beef-wit," I scolded. "Like I can go just any place and find a guy who's equipment makes Bobby's ten-incher seem puny – at least, in Bobby's mind. That was essential to make the whole scene work; to make him feel weak, inadequate, ineffectual. Whether or not I could find a guy with the right 'attributes', I wouldn't trust some stranger for something this inherently dangerous. With Bobby tied up the way he was, there would be no one to protect me if my 'lover' decided to play it for real. Then, there is the risk of STDs.

"You were the perfect choice on several levels. First, you are educated, articulate, urbane, confident, successful, rich, handsome, muscular, Black, and hung like a horse. In short, you are intimidating as Hell

and

the poster boy for White men's most primal, irrational fear; a superior Black man who will steal away their women."

"Yeah," Clyde chuckled, "I know."

"Second, it is

because

Bobby knows you that you were the right choice. He knows you and I have history; I could, conceivably, be seduced by you. As his boss, you really are in a position to fuck up his life if he didn't submit to your will. In his mind, you would be a credible threat to steal me away from him.