by Jason Lenov
The house was painted in white stucco with a boxy design. The light on the front porch was on attracting all sorts of bugs.
As we approached the door swung open and a moment later Kwabena stepped out dressed in a black housecoat with a cigar dangling from his mouth.
I looked at Heather just as she registered who it was.
Kwabena spread his arms out and waved us towards him. He puffed on the cigar and blew out a cloud of smoke towards the dark sky. “Come! Come!”
Heather’s energy changed instantly. Her back straightened. She pulled her shoulders back and her chin rose a little.
It seemed to be an almost instinctive transformation, one she didn’t intend just one that happened on its own. She glanced at me, looking like she couldn’t believe what was happening.
“I met him in a coffee shop this morning. He…” I let out a sigh. “It’s kind of a long story. Come on. Let’s go inside. I’m sure we’ll have a chance to talk.”
As we walked up the steps to the house Kwabena reached out and took Heather’s hand.
I saw her blush and her eyes fluttered towards the ground before she looked back up and met his gaze.
“You look very beautiful in the evening, Miss Heather,” Kwabena said, grinning.
Heather looked back at me.
I smiled. She did look beautiful, especially with her slender fingers perched on Kwabena’s meaty, dark paw.
Seeming to come to terms with the situation, Heather let herself be led inside the house.
I followed and closed the door.
The place was nicely furnished with minimal clutter and clean lines. It was clear that either Kwabena was doing very well with his tour operator business or he had a little something going on the side.
He led us into a modest living room that contained a rectangular white settee, a smile looking armchair and a coffee table between them. He walked Heather over to the settee and she sat down. “Now, what shall we have to drink tonight?” he asked.
Heather looked around the room before turning to Kwabena again. “Am I going to get an explanation about what’s going on?” she asked, her lips just hinting at a smile.
Kwabena took another step towards her and brushed her chin with his fingers. “My dear Miss Heather, you are going to get nicely fucked this evening. Your husband didn’t mention that?” he asked, grinning.
Heather emitted a tiny gasp as she turned to look at me with an open mouth.
I wavered for a moment, not sure whether I’d done the right thing by keeping it a surprise.
The look in her eyes when she turned to stare up at Kwabena again assured me I had.
“I’ll have…I’ll have…oh, I don’t know what to have?” Heather seemed suddenly distracted with stars in her eyes.
“Don’t worry, Miss Heather, I’ll fix you something good. Whisky for you?” he asked, turning to me.
I nodded. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes off of Heather. She was blushing slightly but more than that there seemed to be a glow about her, too.
Kwabena fixed our drinks, serving Heather a dawa and giving me a healthy pour of a very nice smelling scotch. Then he sat down next to Heather on the settee and mashed his cigar into an ashtray to put it out before settling back and putting an arm around her.
Heather took a sip of her drink before glancing shyly at the ground. It was a funny change from the night before and one I liked.
It felt like I was in the driver’s seat now, that I was the mastermind of this all, the director working behind the scenes pulling strings and that her performance that evening would be for me.
After taking two more sips of her cocktail, Heather set the glass down on the coffee table and looked at me, then at Kwabena. “So is someone going to tell me what is going on? Besides the fact that I’m about to get nicely fucked?”
Her profanity stirred a lust inside me that began to stiffen my cock even as I guffawed at how unexpected it was.
Kwabena began to chuckle, too. He brushed her cheek with the back of his thick fingers again. “It seems your husband has some desires he needs his wife to fulfill,” he explained.
Heather turned to me and narrowed her eyes. “Well I knew that already. How is it that we’re here at your house? Aren’t you mad?”
Kwabena sighed. “I must admit I was a little miffed last night. No one likes being taken for a ride, do they? But I’m not easily wounded and find it hard to carry a grudge. It was a nice coincidence that your husband chose the same coffee shop as I did.”
Heather shot me a sly glance. “Was it?” she asked.
She may have been thinking that I’d somehow orchestrated this, that it hadn’t been a coincidence. I didn’t feel the need to explain that it really had just been a coincidence. It made me feel a little more like the puppet-master that way, too.
“So you two think you’re just going to bring me here and have your way with me. Is that it?” Heather asked playfully.
Kwabena began to chuckle as he stood up.
We both gasped when he pulled apart his bathrobe to reveal he was completely naked underneath. Our eyes settled on the swinging trunk of a cock between his legs. Soda-can thick and crawling with veins. Wrapping a fist around it, he brought it up so the wrinkled foreskin was just inches from Heather’s parted lips.
My eyes went wide and my heart began to pump.
Heather leaned back a little, her gaze wandering the length of the glistening, ebony shaft.
“I don’t think it’s a question of what we think, Miss Heather,” Kwabena explained with a smile. “It’s a question of what you desire.” He paused, fixing her with his gaze. “And I have yet to meet a pretty little blonde girl like you that’s been able to escape that desire once it has been properly aroused.”
His words chilled and excited me. It seemed that Kwabena had already had some experience with pretty little blonde girls. He seemed to take on the role of ringmaster, putting on a bit of a show about his phallus.
I couldn’t help but wonder, though, if there wasn’t some truth to his words. His cock was impressive in length and girth. I could only imagine the pleasure Heather would get from it. Was that something a pretty little blonde girl could walk away from when it came time?
A thought struck me. I sat forward in the chair and raised a hand, like a student who needs to ask a question in class.
Kwabena turned at the motion and raised his brow as if to ask “yes?”
“I…I forgot to mention…we’re trying to…” No matter which way I tried to start the sentence I couldn’t find a good way to finish. I looked to Heather, hoping she would take over but she was still stunned, enthralled by the slab of dark meat being presented to her.
“You are not protected, Miss Heather?” Kwabena asked, turning to her again.
This seemed to stir her from her stupor. Heather opened her mouth to answer but only managed a shake of the head.
“Hmm,” Kwabena said, his expression darkening. “I will have to be careful then. I can’t use a condom. Allergic to them, you see?” he said, turning to me again.
It was a frightfully arousing sight, watching this dark wizard bring an innocent maiden under the spell of his staff. I shouldn’t have agreed, of course. I should have protested, said that it was too risky, that we would have to call it all off.
But Heather’s teasing kept ringing in my ears. It would shatter our world if she got pregnant by another man. Then why was imagining the possibility hardening my cock so much?
A silence descended on the room.
Kwabena held his cock in front of her mouth a while longer. Then he took a step forward and touched the side of her cheek with it. Not a slap, just a gentle touch, but done in such a way to look like he was…anointing her with it or something.
Heather gasped. She brought up a hand and let the tips of her fingers graze the spot it had touched her skin. Then she looked up and stared into Kwabena’s eyes.
Kwabena began massaging his cock with his hand, strokin
g it back and forth, coaxing it to life. After a few strokes he pulled back a little further.
The once wrinkled foreskin went taut as it slid back, exposing the bluish-purple head of his cock.
Heather’s eyes darted back down to look at it. They opened wider still.
Without asking, Kwabena put a thumb on her chin and pulled her mouth open.
Her tongue fell out.
Another step forward and the crown of his phallus slipped past her lips and into her mouth. Kwabena growled as he slid himself along her tongue.
Heather let out a breathy moan, as if she’d just tasted something exquisite. Something rare. As she looked back at Kwabena, her mouth now stuffed with his dick, he smiled.
Heather’s cheeks hollowed and she began to suck.
Chapter Eight
Kwabena put a hand on his hip, holding his bathrobe behind him so I had a full and perfect view of what was happening.
Heather seemed consumed by what she was doing in a way unlike I’d ever seen before. Not only was she sucking him so gently, his cock had her full attention. When she wasn’t looking up into his eyes she was gazing at it with love, stroking the root of it with her fingers and reaching under him to caress his balls.
Kwabena seemed to savour every second of it. As if having a pretty little blonde girl suck him off was to be done like tasting whisky. Slowly and enjoying every drop.
He didn’t make her take any more of him than she wanted. Just stood there and let her do all the work.
With each bob of her head, Heather’s enthusiasm for what she was doing seemed to grow. That, or her impatience to make him climax. But not because she was tired of it or bored. There was a hunger, a neediness to her urgency. Like she couldn’t wait to taste his offering.
When his cock did begin to flex inside her mouth, Kwabena seemed unfazed. He didn’t offer any warning or ask permission for what he was about to do. Instead, he let out the slightest breath of satisfaction as he ejaculated into her mouth, as if it were his right.
Heather, not normally a fan of the taste of sperm, shocked me when she began sucking even harder as he came.
I watched the muscles in her throat working as she struggled to swallow every last drop of what was obviously a very voluminous load. Voluminous enough that she couldn’t get it all down. She coughed and some of the white cream sputtered out of the sides of her mouth and ran down her jaw.
Only then did Kwabena move. He reached out, swept a finger along her jaw and scooped the liquid up. He held it off to the side.
I could see he’d stopped coming but Heather didn’t relent. She continued to suck until I was sure there was nothing left in him. Then, gazing up into his eyes, she proceeded to polish his cock with her tongue until it was glistening in the dim light.
Kwabena put the finger with his drying cum to her lips.
Heather obediently slurped it into her mouth and gave it the same treatment she had his cock, cleaning it until it was practically shinning.
To my astonishment, despite his orgasm, Kwabena’s cock showed no signs of abating. It stood up just as stiff as it had been never used. “Get up on the settee on your hands and knees, Miss Heather,” he ordered.
Heather scrambled up as if it had been an order from a drill sergeant. She got up onto the settee on her hands and knees, craning her neck to stare over her shoulder at Kwabena.
Kwabena, still holding his stiff cock, put one knee on the settee, reached out and split the lips of Heather’s glistening pussy with a finger and thumb. He grinned. “What a fine woman you’ve married,” he said, smiling at me. “Look how she shines.” He leaned forward and sniffed. “And that smell,” he purred. “Like a bitch in heat. Come here, Jay,” he said.
Pulling myself to my feet I stumbled through the room. Somehow I knew what Kwabena wanted without him saying it. I sank to my knees by the settee, eyeing the sacred gash, the object of my worship I was about to blaspheme.
Placing my hands on the chair, I leaned forward, tongue jutting out of my mouth. I closed my eyes and inhaled the sharp smell of Heather’s juices, the scent of her desire. She tasted sharp and sweet and her flavour spread across my tongue and trickled down my throat.
I licked her and suckled on her clit until my mouth was covered in my own spit and the mucus drooling from her core. Having readied her for Kwabena, I retreated back to my own chair on my hands and knees.
As Kwabena positioned himself behind her, Heather began to breathe heavily. Her mouth was hanging open and she was still staring behind herself, as if desperate to see what he would look like going in.
Kwabena pressed the tip of his cock against her slit and painted it up and down, collecting her juice. “You can’t see a thing, can you, Miss Heather?” he asked.
Heather shook her head.
Kwabena smiled and patted her ass. “Onto your back.”
Heather flipped onto her back with the agility of an acrobat. Her feet floated up into the air, legs waving like long grass in the wind. She held herself open by her thighs as Kwabena stepped between them.
I leaned forward in my chair, clutching the arms of it and staring wide-eyed at the unfolding scene. I gasped as the tip of his cock touched her pink flesh.
This time, instead of running it up and down, he leaned a little further forward.
Heather’s lips sealed a little tighter for a moment against the pressure. But her pussy was so slick that a split second later they blossomed open, sucking Kwabena in.
Heather’s eyes opened so wide I thought they were going to pop out of her head. “Oh my fucking God,” she whispered, staring at Kwabena.
He had put a hand on either of her thighs, splaying her legs open, holding one still high in the air and the other slightly off to one side. Staring at his cock, he grunted, grimaced, then drove the rest of his shaft into her waiting cunt.
Heather, her head craned forward now, staring down her body and between her legs, let out a grunting moan as his girth stretched her pussy taut.
He piled in about two thirds of his cock before coming to a stop. I saw the root of his meat flex.
Heather grunted again.
Kwabena began hauling his python back out.
This caused the lips of Heather’s pussy to do something I’d never seen before. He was so thick and she was gripping him so tightly with them that it looked like a mouth stretched wide open but desperate to keep what it was sucking, in.
Kwabena didn’t pull his entire cock out. Instead he kept the head of it inside her and lunged at her with a more violent thrust.
Heather bucked, nails clawing against the fabric of the settee. Her lip curled with the pained agony of an approaching orgasm.
Once again Kwabena came to a stop about two thirds of the way in. He readjusted himself on the settee, spread Heather’s legs open a little further.
Her painted toes wiggled as he did.
Then he pushed in a little deeper, as if testing, prodding her insides to see what she could take.
Heather shook her head. A slight look of panic formed on her face. “Kwabena,” she whispered. “I don’t…I don’t think I can.”
Kwabena cracked a smile with one corner of his mouth. He dragged his hand up her thigh and grabbed her ankle and spread her legs as far as they could go. He turned to me, smiling. “Don’t worry, Jay, son. They all say that.” The smile faded from his lips. He turned to Heather and without warning lunged at her with his hips.
A sound so vulgar filled the room that my head started to spin. Something between the splitting of a ripe watermelon and the sound of someone trying to slurp up the remnants of their drink with a straw but sticker and more dense.
Heather emitted a wail I’d never heard her make before. She stared at Kwabena disappearing into her with a look of fear, like he might split her in two. But as the root of his cock slipped between her lips her mouth fell open. Her head fell back and she stared at the ceiling as if she were comatose.
She exhaled with a soft hiss. Then a look o
f complete bliss settled on her face. Her nipples hardened into two wrinkled cherries and she flushed a bright red.
Kwabena let go of her ankles and sank down onto her, his substantial weight pressing her into the settee.
I shuddered. My cock was aching and throbbing in my pants. A part of me couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe my fantasy, the vision that I’d had, had become real. Another much larger part never wanted it to end.
Kwabena began sawing into her with soft, easy strokes.
Heather seemed to have become accustomed to his size now because she no longer looked uncomfortable in any way. Her arms drifted up over his neck. Her thighs floated against his until her calves were resting on his ass, ankles locked behind him.
The reality of it hit me like a blast of air from a hot furnace. Heather, my wife and lover, was being defiled before my very eyes by the thickest, darkest cock I’d ever seen.
It drove me wild.
“Fuck how tight your pussy is, Miss Heather,” Kwabena whispered.
This seemed to excite her because she began wiggling beneath him. Her hips rose to meet his thrusts, legs flexing as they did. Her breathing quickened. The muscles in her arms flexed as she held onto him more tightly.
Her body seemed to start to vibrate.
Kwabena grunted.
The sound shook me from my stupor, yanked me from the tension of the moment and turned the lights on in my brain. It was clear they were about to come, about to share an orgasm in a moment of ecstasy.
But I couldn’t really let that happen, could I? Heather had only gone off birth control recently but this was an altogether absolutely unnecessary risk.
If Kwabena came inside her, if he spilled his seed, there was a very real chance with how deep he was, that it would find it’s mark. The swimmer’s would make their way through her tunnels, aided by how wet she was. And all it would take was one to pierce the protective glycoprotein layer surrounding her ovum.
In a split-second everything would change. Their DNA would mix, locking in the code for a new human life to take shape. Hers and his.
Nothing to do with me.
But this very real and very dangerous possibility had the opposite effect it was supposed to on my psyche. Instead of jumping up and shouting for them to stop, for Kwabena to pull out, to retract his dark seeding muscle before the trigger had been pulled, I found myself paralyzed in my seat, barely able to breathe.
