WARNING: This story contains cuckolding, graphic description, vulgar language and term usage. Reader discretion is advised.
Somewhere, far from home, a man sits in a dimly lit hotel room. Soft music plays from the stereo in the entertainment center. Candle wicks all over the room burn in their canisters, casting shadows upon the walls; dancing in perfect harmony.
The black man's name is a mystery to him; only his wife knows. The black man kisses the bottom of his wife's beautiful feet as he pushes deeper inside her. She seems to like this, and gasps as the black man takes a long slow stride to bury himself entirely inside her.
The man rubs his thighs, aching to pull his cock out from his jeans. But that wasn't part of the agreement, was it? No. He must sit here and watch another man-a stranger to he and his wife-make love to her. Jealousy fills him as his heart thunders in his chest, on the verge of exploding. They've been at this for over an hour; kissing and fondling; sucking and fucking.
The husband's name is Marcus. And he asked his wife, Tiffany, to do this.
He watches as the black man's muscles ripple and seem to take on a life of their own as they move in concert under the glossy sheen of his sweat soaked skin. The man mutters something to Tiffany as he pumps in and out of her; the soft heels of her pointed feet resting on his thighs just below his ass.
Her eyes appear to be dialated with erotic ecstasy as she says something in return. Her hands grip the man's ass, forcing him deeper inside her. Her hips buck back and forth to meet her lover's thrusts and her back arches. She's on the verge of orgasm.
Marcus is intimidated by the overwhelming size of the man, and is certain that it as stretched her pussy past the limits that it has been accustomed to. He wonders if there is any pain for her as the man's cock reaches uncharted territory. Something's happening. Tiffany's back bends like a bow and she presses her head deep into the pillow. There's a sudden gush of fluid from her sex, soaking both of them as her legs close around his waist, locking at the ankles.
"Ah, fuck! Shit!" Tiffany cries, her legs shaking and barely able to hang on. She reclines on her elbows and watches as her lover's cock moves in and out of her with greater efficiency. The inside of her cunt feels as if it is on fire as more liquid pours from her body. Her legs are trembling and they lose hold of their grip.
Her legs fall wide to the side as they both watch him disappear inside her, only to reappear for less than a second. She's making noises she never knew she had inside her. She wants to ask him to stop, she can't take anymore. But it feels too damn good.
Marcus hangs his head as his wife's face is contorted in indescribable pleasure. He hates himself for doing this. Now things will never be the same. Life will change. There's nothing he can do to keep these two apart now.
The CD player has stopped and there is nothing to drown out her strident cries and moans. The bed creaks and the headboard abuses the wall. If only he could gouge out his ear drums, render his flesh from his bone-some way to stem the slaughter to their marriage, he would. When Marcus looks up, the black man is laid out upon his wife. Her nails dig long jagged marks up his back; her legs are spread wide and her feet once again rest upon his thighs.
Though his body mostly obscures Tiffany's from the view of her husband, Marcus can see that her D-cup tits are flattened against his chest. He feels heart sick at the sight of the long, thick, greased rod impaling his wife. She lifts her head as another orgasm seizes her. As her eyes closed tight and her mouth hangs open like a cave, Marcus can't help but wonder if she thinking of him.
Her body shudders as her pussy expels more fluid. She can feel every contour of his cock as it obliterates her cunt; from every large vein, down to the bulbous head. The walls of her snatch contract uncontrollably around his great phallus. She wants to wrap her legs around his waist, but that would constrict his movement.
Tiffany loves her husband, but she's fallen in love with infidelity. Never again does she want to go back to the sobriety of marriage. She hopes that Marcus is enjoying the show from his little chair. Wave after wave of orgasm hit her like earthquakes as she wraps her arms and long legs around this wonderful specimen of a man. He's going to cum, and she wants it inside her. His body shudders as he clamps his powerful jaws down on her right shoulder. A sensation is burning in his loins and he wants to breed this wife.
"Oh, please! Fuck! Damn it! Fuck me! Ah! Ah! Ah!" she cries as his cock pounds her tenderized pussy. Suddenly, his body slams into hers with a brute force as he lets loose of a copious batch of thick, sticky cream.
In the aftermath, all that is heard is their heavy breathing. His hips slowly rise and fall; his cock acting as a plunger, forcing excess cum out of her swollen snatch. Pulling his soggy, flaccid cock from her, he rolls off of her and collapses on the bed.
"Did you enjoy that, honey," she asks, looking to the small chair.
But Marus is gone.
