Legend Of Mustang Sally Pt 02

Introduction, this being the 2nd part, of a 4 part fictional story, told from a women's perspective. Strong language, violence, and a tendency to push racial triggers. No underage shenanigans, in this story.

It's about hot moms, getting their rocks off by frat daddies. This is a dyslexic collaboration.

Part 2.

Sex fantasies, reality, and the transformation.

I only remember having sex with five different men that night at the fraternity house. As for the other nine, I have no clue. Nor do I remember ever saying yes to anyone. If you're wondering what happened after being challenged to a dual by that fatso standing on the staircase. Being humiliated, and still trying to wrap my mind around what happened. I walked out of the frat house immediately, with my friend Amy following after.

Prior to that first night at the frat house, I had fantasized about having sex with multiple men. Filling my mind with thoughts of old racist, cliched, porn scenarios. Mostly of my husband losing a poker game, to a group of unsavory thugs, being hosted in our home.

With no cash in his wallet, telling the winners sitting around the card table. "Look guys, all the A.T.M. will allow me to pull out this late at night, is 300 at the most." My husband said, stalling for time. "We can go get the 300, and hang out at that 24 hour strip club. When the bank open up tomorrow, I'll get the 2,200 I owe you. So what do you guys say, titties and beer?"

The poker table getting restless at the news, they'll have to wait for their money, once again.

"No, don't think we feel like travelling into the city tonight. I'm tired of this. Your always gambling with money you never have on hand." One of the thugs said. "How does your wife feel about being married to a degenerate loser? Why don't you call her down here, so we can collaborate a solution, dealing with your gambling problem."

Of course, this being my fantasy. Oblivious to their conversation, I just happened to walk downstairs at that moment, looking like Debbie, about to do Dallas. Hair, nails, makeup, done to perfection. Gray tank top, squeezing my holstered breast in place, for maximum cleavage. Letting anyone who wishes see, how my milkshakes when I walk.

Coming together with a black skirt so small, any bouncing around, would expose my ass, modeling a red lace panties. Finishing it off with a pair of black, open toe, pink glass bottom, fuck me pumps.

Like Cinderella, about to teach her Prince Charming, a lesson on how cucks are made. I arrive to the sausage fest knowing I came to swallow. Acting surprised, after being told all of my husband's misgivings. Like I didn't already know.

"Is this what you've been doing with our savings?" I said, angrily glaring at my husband. "Gentleman, I can assure you, my husband can get the money first thing in the morning."

Now, being informed by a man nicknamed, Ghetto Fabulous, or Fabulous for short. Whose breath smelled like halitosis, for having a $20,000 grill in his mouth. Apparently my husband made suggestions of titties and beer. Complete with lap dances to kill the time.

Realizing, I'm standing in front of a card table of angry horny blacks. Of course, not getting the full picture of what my husband had in mind when he suggested titties and beer. After being given the four one one. My husband owes money, and now his guests, want me for the entertainment. Incase you don't live in the States, four one one, is the number you call for information.

"I can't believe this shit. You owe money, and now I have to dry hump a card table of uncut cucumber cock." I said to my husband. "No, I dont want to hear anything you have to say. You probably set this whole thing up, so you can beat off to it later. Just stand there, and watch these idiots you lost money to, play with your wife."

Not knowing what I'm doing. I start with my legs spread, straddling a strangers lap in the cowgirl position. Being informed, by four frequent consumers, of dry humping aficionados. Getting expert advice on how my ass can work for me. The man's cock, growing underneath me, while I lightly massaged his shaft shifting my body weight around. As the song, Me So Horny, played in the background.

Being reminded that titties were promised. I removed my gray tank top, allowing my breast to hang freely out in the open. As eight, strong, black hands, reached out to greet them. Squeezing with the confidence that only a firm grip can provide.

Occasionally, giving a disgusted look towards my husband direction. Knowing he's to much of a pussy to physically intervene. Not saying a word, I allow the unsavory foursome, to do what comes naturally. As two sets of cold, Platinum, bedazzled teeth, wrapped around my nipples.

My black skirt, being lifted up, to better see what's rocking underneath. Taking their time, to appreciate the female form in motion, before grabbing my ass, like it was pizza dough. Assuming, he was mining for gold. Mr. Fabulous, starts digging around inside my red lace panties.

"Come on guys, that's my wife you're finger dipping in. when I said titties, and beer, I meant the strip club titties, and beer." My husband said, looking like he was about to cry. "I would appreciate it if you guys stop treating my wife like a common hoodrat. I'm sure she would tell you herself, if she wasn't already scared to death."

My husband, confusing scared to death, with trembling in ecstasy. I'm moaning this entire time, as I'm being fondled, and probed. Not knowing how far I was willing to take it. My goal ultimately is to torment my pussy for a husband. So my willingness to say no, or say anything at all for that matter. Ended, when I decided my husband needs to fix his own problems. Unless he man's up, and puts a stop to it, my pussy, is more than just up for grabs.

"Remember, titties and beer is your idea. If you had better control over your woman, she wouldn't be sucking my fingers like long skinny dicks. That middle finger, I shoved up her ass." Mr. Fabulous said, to my husband. "Your wife's a big girl. I promise you, we're not doing anything, she's not willing to allow."

"Now how about keeping your promise, with titties, and beer. We got the titties, we just need some more beer." Mr. Fabulous remarked, in order to get my husband out of the house.

As the living room goes quiet. Everyone looks to my husband to see what he will do. Surely pondering his options, before remembering he's a pussy. Responding in typical fashion, when he's confronted by alphas. He asked the room what brand of beer everyone wanted, before walking out the front door.

Soon as my husband's car, pulls out of our driveway to go on a beer run.

"Looks like that pussy you're married to, just left you alone, with four big bad wolves." Mr. Fabolous said, while controlling me like a finger puppet. "When the husband's away, a married ho, will play."

Thirty minutes later, my husband walks into our home, finding more than lap dancing, and finger banging. I'm giving the poker table a double meaning by getting fucked on top of it. As my tongue, sponges off another man's golf ball sized salty roasted nuts.

Throwing a fit, my husband starts yelling that I'm a whore. That he is married to a spic whore. Then threatening, that he's never going to play poker with those guys again. To finally, the idiot forgets whose company he's keeping, and drops a hard N.

"My adulterous, border hopping hussy for a wife, with a womb stuffed full of rancid, n-word pie! Mother told me, never marry beneath my species, and now I know why. Your a n-word dick loving whore!" My husband's full sentences, to truly appreciate the English language.

I was born in Texas by the way. Apparently the border jumped my family tree, when a bunch of assholes, locked themselves in the Alamo, all so they can have the freedom to own slaves. Mexico ended slavery in 1834, almost three decades before United States.

Anyways, everything said till then, we just ignored as angry entitled white man pouting. However, not wanting to let the n-word slide. They took a brief intermission from playing flip the wife, to help my husband get his mind right.

Stretched out, laying on my side on top of the card table. My entire naked body shining in the after glow. Watching the four bare bottom men, take turns, slapping my husband around. With every smack, came a high pitched yelp in pain. Before eventually resuming their poker game, Latina's wild. Showing my husband how real men fuck.

To compare, and contrast gender roles, on verbal commands. "Bitch, you best not make a sound. Otherwise, I'll make you toss some rancid n-word dressing, out your women's ass." Versus, "if my dick don't fit, the bitch, must have quit. They'er gonna call me Jonny Cock Rim, after I'm done with you. Keep those butt cheeks spread apart. I'm gonna throw some more mr. Fabulous sour cream, in that Tex Mex puffy taco."

The sight of my husband sobbing, with red hand prints all over his pale face. Pacing the room on orders, with his pants and underwear down to his ankles. All while sucking his thumb, and tugging on his limp dick.

"You're sad, because your dick is broke like your wallet." Said the man, fucking me from behind.

It ends with my husband paralyzed in place, after returning from the bank to pays off what's owed. Finding his wife sound asleep, with legs spread, dangling off the card table. As fabulous sour cream, comes oozing out my gaping stretched puffy taco lips.

"I don't know if your wife is fixed, but you might want to suck all that shit out of her." Mr. Johnny Cock Rim said, formerly known as mr. Fabulous. "I'd hate to find out a month from now she's pregnant. If so, I'll have to come back here with a coat hanger, and scrambled that little Booger's brain out."

My fantasy, when playing with Doc Johnson toys for size queens. Although my husband was never a racist, he was in fact a pussy. Highlighting how my husband gets emotionally abused, humiliated, and physically assaulted, is what really gets me off. Swallowing a dessert table of large chocolate cock, was just the cherry on top of my Sunday.

Before you think I'm some deranged slut, the man cheated on me, reason for why we were separated at that time. If i didn't love my husband prior to his adultery, then I wouldn't care to see him punished. As for the n-word itself, it just sounds funnier to me, than what its pretending to soften.

The idea of me being stuffed, and manhandled by 4 large chocolate men, did have its wanting kink. However, actually living a sexual fantasy like that out, would have never crossed my mind. In conversation with Amy, and other girlfriends, most had experienced being penetrated by two or more men at the same time, before they were in their 30s.

What happened at the frat house.

Amy, knowing how shy I can be around new people, initiated things, by sending photos of me in a neon green bikini. Before texting a message to a guy she thought would be perfect for me.

"I'm bringing my girlfriend with me on Saturday. She's looking for some dick to celebrate the ending of her marriage with a bang." At least that what Amy thought she texted.

Dick, was spelled with an X, and the word bang, had gang in front of it. Amy claimed the spell check messed up on her cellphone. What sealed my fate, was Amy's message went out to everyone in that fraternity house, not just the one guy. So you could only imagine what their thoughts were. Amy, known for being a unabashed slut, is bring to their door steps, another bitch in heat so they can dogpile on.

In my card game fantasy, I dictate how the gangbang plays out. However, the real thing had me traumatized, waking up in night sweats, thinking someone is trying to shove a dick in my mouth.

After about a week, I had decided to pleasure myself to help me sleep. Prior to the gangbang, like prayer, this was something I did often before bed. Having a hard time thinking of my go to sexual fantasy, as my thoughts kept interrupting my poker game. Like a veteran, getting a whiff of gasoline, having flash backs of some screwed up war. Every time my finger played with my clit, I was back in the shit. My mind would vividly take me back to that night at the fraternity house, for me to repeatedly live over again. The more I tried to fight it, the worse it got.

Thinking, I might be able to power through, I focused solely on mastervating myself with a sex toy. While my mind transported me from the safety of my own home. To being fucked senselessly on top of a water bed, by faceless Devils, two hours away in another city. Everything from the spinning Christmas lights, to how the room smelled like Sea Breeze, and urine. Even the taste of ejaculate exploding in my mouth.

The sound of chanting, "Mustang Sally!" And, "1, 2, 3, 4, we're bouncing on another whore." Their hands freely roaming my body.

Thinking, all I had to do to make it stop, was to remove the dildo from between my legs. But like that night at the frat house, my hands, and arms, were useless rubbery objects laying at my side. Scared, and crying uncontrollably, with no way to control what was happening. I was stuck in a flash back, getting my brains fucked out of me. Only coming to an end when I finally climaxed.

Now transported back on to my own bed, while my body was still trembling from the multiple orgasm. My traumatized mind had gave me the best sex I've ever had. The following nights, I continued to fuck myself to sleep. Like a heroin addict chasing the dragon, I was jonesing for some dick.

My brain, now excepting its nightly release of endorphins, from a orgasm that had my legs spread high, squirting all over my bed sheets. Each time, becoming less vivid, and more of me playing with myself to a sexual memory.

I was now horny all the time, as sex fantasies haunted my thoughts, like an annoying song I couldn't get out of my head. If I'm getting groceries, at the gym, or walking through a mall, and happened to see a group of attractive young men smiling in my direction. I'd automatically start blushing, as my hart rate would spike from anxiety, followed by arousement. With my judgment now impaired by my over active hormones. The slightest suggestion of sex, could easily capture my attention.

Football, on a Sunday afternoon.

Looking for something to occupy my mind, other than contemplating a return to the frat house. My son, had asked if he could have a few friends over to watch the big game. Wanting to say no, because I didn't want to clean up after them. However, knowing my son had been moping around the house ever since the separation. Being the cool mom that I am, I said yes, and even volunteered my time to provide snacks. Along with promising I'd stay in my bedroom upstairs to give them their privacy.

Sunday comes aroud, and I totally forget to prepare anything. So I call to order a pizza, and was told it would be over two hours before it arrived. With no other options, other than to wait, for my pepperoni, and sausage to arrive. I'm in my kitchen, rushing to make sandwiches, for my son, and five of his football friends. As they all huddled around the television in the living room.

It wasn't long before I was joined on snack patrol, by Trevor, and Ryan. I believe their names were. Known for being the star players on the high school varsity football team, they could come across a bit full of themselves.

The little that I knew from previous conversation, and what my son had said about them. As appearances go, I overall had a more positive perception about the two. Both were seniors in high school, that had recruiters from different universities throwing scholarships at them. Something they seemed eager to mention to me repeatedly in conversation.

After awhile, felt like I was talking to high school versions, of a certain TV shoe salesman, telling me about four touchdowns in one game. My son, being a sophomore at the time, idolized both of them. Knowing they traveled in different social circles at school. The fact they decided to come over was a pretty big deal.

Finding nothing in common, or interesting at first with the boys. I let them lead the conversation. They start telling me their plans for college the following year, along with their home, and girlfriend issues.

"Those relationships with your girlfriends are not going work out." I said to them, forgetting who I was talking to. "A couple of handsome guys like yourselves, will definitely be scoring big with the ladies on campus next year."

Both receptive to my flirtatious language, now open to test where I would allow the conversation to go. Eventually leads to them telling me how experience they are in bed, along with their favorite sexual position. There was of course different topics open for discussion that had nothing to do with sex. However, sex seemed to be the only topic they were really interested in.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to spread mayonnaise on two slices of bread. As my son's two guest, start going into how they spread their little bitches legs apart, before dropping off aborted disappointments into a condom sack.

Curious to see what's their sexual preferences. "What genre of adult films do you guys like?" I asked politely.

Responding right away, Ryan says, "mature, Latina, step mom, my friend's hot mom. Any porno really, with a sexy cougar in a red silky t-shirt." Then again, it could of been Trevor who said it.

Anyways, I was wearing a red synthetic dress, almost silk like. It was designed to resemble a football jersey, with the number 10 on the back. Tight enough to accentuated my curves, with a large neckline collar that opens up in front. Giving enough support for my girls, so I could go without having to wear a bra.

More of a lounging around the house dress, than going out. Comfortable enough to sleep in, at the same time creates the illusion I got dressed that day, and not just put on a giant t-shirt. The length of the dress cuts off half way down my thighs, with slits on both sides to give better airflow.

The boys, complimented me for having on such a cute outfit, and for being able to keep my figure. As I wear the color red so well. Asking me questions on my workout routine, that keeps my posture, and legs in such great shape. To then follow up their curiosity about my grooming techniques. If I wax, or shave my legs with a razor, to what method if any for trimming the hedge.

No longer caring about who I'm talking to. "Hair removal cream, from my butt cheeks, and between, down to my legs. However, I still use a razor for trimming around a two inch landing strip in front." I said, in a soft voice.

My fully harden nipples, attempting to pierce the thin dress, obvious to both of them, I was getting turned on. My eyes looking downwards, noticing my nipples, were not the only thing poking around. A brief pause in our conversation came between us.

"So, what would you boys do with your friend's hot mom?" I asked, in a soft voice.

The two, in desperation, start saying, how they would make love to me. Remove my dress, then massage my body with strawberry flavored oils, before licking my clit, and suckling on my nipples. This all sounded boring as shit.

So I told them, in my best seductive voice, "this all sounds lovely. However, I think you boys misunderstood my question." I said, while checking out the bulges in front of their pants. "Don't tell me what you think will get you laid. Be honest, and tell me what you would brag about, after you already scored?"

Ryan, nervously taking the initiative. "I don't like to kiss and tell, but this lady was so incredible. Told her I forgot to pull out. She just smiled and said, if I wasn't fixed, would've made you put on a condom. Not only did I live out a wet dream, but I got some useful experience that only a woman her age could teach." Ryan said, while totally missing the point.