You Dont Cheat The Hangman

There is an old saying; you don't cheat the hang man. So, when my husband was convicted of assault and sentenced to hang, I felt like my whole world was crumbling at my feet. I had to get him out of the noose and the only way I saw this happening was to offer another body in his stead, my body. So the night before the hanging I waited until my husband was fast asleep before making my way to the edge of town. It was said that the hangman lived alone and that no one ever saw his face. I'm determined however even though I'm five months pregnant to change his mind. The walk is almost too much for me but I do make it.

I am an anomaly in the town because of my Creole heritage and my dark black husband. Most women with fair looks like me try to preserve their features when it comes to breeding. I had fallen for Jack though and there was no amount of stigma that was going to keep me away from his coal colored complexion. I loved him in a way that not many women can say they love their husbands and tonight I was willing to sacrifice it all to keep him safe.

I knock twice on the door before a gruff voice beckons me inside. A pair of eyes stares at me from next to the fireplace.

"Jack?" I say his name aloud but I still can't believe my eyes. My husband must have had the same thing in mind and tried to plead with the hangman. I look around but my husband is alone. There are a million things running through my mind as my face twists into a scowl.

"Don't scream baby," he says and I practically float to where he is standing.

"What are you doing here?"

"I needed to know that I could trust you," he says almost child-like.

"I still don't understand," I admit taking in my surroundings. We are alone, and it doesn't make sense.

The room is spinning so fast that it is hard to make out anything besides the fireplace and run down couch in the center of the room. Jake seems so at home here and I begin to wonder if what he's hiding is something that is going to tear us apart.

"Sit down," he instructs. I take a seat on the empty couch facing him.

He drops to his knee in front of me and the look on his face is one of doubt. He is nervous and I'm just plain confused.

"A hangman's life," he says slowly, "is a lonely one. We never know who to trust because people are always trying to get back at us for killing their loved ones. I needed to know I could trust you and you showed me that I can by coming here tonight to barter for my life."

"I love you," Is all I manage to get out before a tear floats from my eyes.

This revelation is a lot to take in even with his masculine hands wiping the tears from my eyes. My husband is a stranger to me. Our unborn kicks within me and even they seem confused by the situation. I could just turn around and leave but that wouldn't be fair. I'm in love with my husband, and I had proven it by coming here.

He slides next to me on the couch with the fire burning in the background. I grab him full of lust brought on by mystery. Our kiss is magnetic and wet as I lay my burgeoning belly against him. I can feel my own fire igniting. I want him bad and by the look in his eyes he wants me too.

His hands go to my belly; it is a gentle touch that causes goosebumps to ripple over my frame. We kiss again but this time I'm on top with my full breasts lying against his dark face.

"Will you live this life with me?" He asks and I answer him by yanking my dress up and exposing my slippery sweet mound.

I already am with him in every way that a wife is supposed to be, so why not complete him in this? He licks my right cheek and then slides himself out of his pants. When he begins to enter me I can't hold back. We hadn't had sex since the incident and I want him so bad as he practically splits me open. He is burying himself inside me and I can feel him just below our unborn child. I egg him on riding him. I feel so swollen as he doesn't relent and continues to push inside of me.

"I love you," he says and I feel myself explode.

I shake and wither around his huge cock just before he blows his own load. We lay against each other on the couch in an unsung alliance, till death do us part.

The next day the hang man kills my husband, but I know the truth. Whoever is hanging from the noose is obviously not my husband and I'm hardened to the fact that whoever is swinging in the wind might be innocent.

People talk about the night I left my husband and took up house with the faceless hangman. Little do they know that I have never been freer in my life. After all, you don't cheat the hangman.