Candy’s Dandy

A cuckold adventure in Millie’s Vast Expanse

 

 

© Copyright 2021 by Millie Dynamite

 

This is a work of fiction and not intended to promote any lifestyle. This is merely a representation of the fantasy of the cuckold lifestyle. The names, characters, places, and incidents are drawn from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to any person, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional. This story contains some sex and violence. If you have an issue with cuckoldry, humiliation, domination, or any other trope in such fantasies, you should read no further. If you like such stories, I hope you enjoy what follows.

* * * * *

In the Expanse, people, like water, seek out their own level. Meet Candy, she married for money. Meet her husband, Jeffery. As he always did, he married for love, using his money to purchase her undying fidelity, along with a vow of everlasting love. Everlasting love is an expensive commodity and requires sacrifice beyond cash. Fidelity, well, faithfulness can’t be purchased or even rented. A wealthy cuck just doesn’t understand until he is forced to do so.

Their world is about to collide with reality. A cuckold is a cuckold before he understands he’s a cuckold, time to wake up and smell the cheating, taste the cum, and accept his place in the world.

 

“Fasten your seat belts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!”

 

 

Betty Davis as Margo in ‘All About Eve‘

 

Jayden and I meet a few weeks after he transferred to the Naval base outside of town. I sat on a barstool sipping my Pappy Van Winkle when this tall African American man in full dress uniform sat next to me. He wore Captain’s bars, possessed an air of authority. I nodded to him when perched on the next stool. He returned my nod with his own acknowledgment. In a deep voice, without turning toward me, he said, “Yo.”

“I’ll have bourbon. Pour a shot of Evan for me,” he said to the bartender. He spoke genial enough. Still, he gave an order.

“Give him a double of Pappy. Nothing too expensive for our servicemen,” I told the bartender. Turning to the Marine, “My way of saying, thanks for your service.”

“Well, sir, thank you,” he said, glancing at me. “Quite generous of you.”

I nodded to him, continued to sip my bourbon, lost in thoughts as I studied a picture of my wife. The warmth of the booze passed over me. I sensed his eyes staring at me, taking a sideways glance at him. The Captain studied me, scrutinizing my face. After a few moments, he turned his attention to the picture in my hand. I turned and stared at him, a smirk twisted onto his lips. With his long, thick index finger, he pointed at my photograph.

“She’s grade-a-looker, sir,” he said. The sir sounded different from before, a somewhat disdainful tone, like a putdown.

“Yes, she is,” I said, ignoring his tone. I continued with pride in my voice, adding, “We have only returned from our honeymoon.”

He licked his thick lips, reached over, and took the picture from my hand, ogling the image of my wife with obvious lust in his eyes. He studied her photo for a moment, handed me the picture back. Took the Pappy and sipped some from his glass.

“Let’s move to a booth and visit,” he said.

“I don’t think…” he broke in on me.

“I said let’s move to a booth,” he repeated. “This isn’t a request, mister.” He spoke with the self-assured confidence of a man who orders men about for a living. “Give us the bottle and put the Van Winkle on his tab,” he told the bartender. Joe handed him the bottle, not asking me for permission.

This man’s familiarity with having his way was oblivious. The Marine stood, walked to a booth, turned back to me, and pointed to one side of the booth. Standing like a statue, he locked his dark eyes on me. I sat with an emotionless expression, with perfect posture, motionless, I guess trying to show him I didn’t take orders.

“Here, now,” he said as he snapped his fingers. Without waiting on me, he sat down and put my bottle in the middle of the table after he refilled his glass. Fixing his eyes where he ordered me to sit, without so much as glimpse my direction. I don’t comprehend why I immediately moved to him. But rather than sit, I stood next to the booth.

The Captain turned his head to me, snapped his fingers again, pointed to the seat across from him. The scowl on his face spoke volumes sending a shiver down my back.

I sat in my designated spot, meekly following the order. Sitting down across from him, I picked up the bottle, started to pour myself more. He grabbed my wrist, a firm, painful grip, twisting my arm. He pushed downward, forcing me to put down the bottle.

“You don’t need more right now,” he said. “Finish what you have first.” Letting go of my wrist, he glowered at me with cold, dark eyes.

I let loose of the Pappy’s, placed both hands on the table. He put his dark hand over my pale white one. A sly grin passed over his face, and he said, “Your wife is a lot younger than you.”

“Twenty-five years,” I told him with some measure of pride.

“You’ll never hold on to her if you don’t let her have some real freedom. Women are strange creatures. I figure you have one failed marriage already or more.”

“Two,” I admitted. The man talked about what a young woman needs. I realized he meant to let her have lovers. Anger flared in me, “This isn’t any of your concern.”

He clutched my hand again with a vise-like clutch. The cold smile faded from his face, replaced by a stern glower.

“Making your business, my business,” he said. The threat in his words was not subtle, no lost on me. At last, he released my hand, picked up his drink. “Mighty fine bourbon,” his voice and attitude returned to an icy, cold detachment.

“I’m going to fuck your wife,” he said, his confidence resonated in the tone and timbre of his announcement. “How’d you like things if I let you be in the room while we fuck?”

“What,” I said.

“Your ears didn’t deceive you,” he said. His voice’s deep tones resonated in my ears. “I’m going fuck your wife. I’m willing to let you be present while I do.”

Starring at me, his face emotionless, frozen in a stern gaze. Dressed in his blue marine uniform, his dark russet skin and commanding presence combined to make me less. Self-worth evaporated as I became less of a man, far less manly than him, less valuable. An understanding dawned inside my mind. Yes, a man such as this Marine Captain, his wishes outweighed my concerns, wants, and needs making me less meaningful than this dominating personality.

“You aren’t going to fuck my wife,” I said, my voice broke as I spoke. This man shook me. The assurance in his physical, his dominating presence frightened me. “You can’t have her,” I said, like a boy threatening a classmate who would beat my ass without breaking a sweat. But, no, this isn’t the issue; I was a boy confronted by a man.

“You don’t mean what you said,” he said. “After all, son, you don’t want me to hurt you.”

No, this wasn’t a threat directed at me. I don’t understand how to explain this. The words weren’t a threat. They were a promise, a fact, indisputable, and understandable, for the Captain was able to hurt me. From the bottle of expensive liquor, he poured my glass full. “Now drink down the booze, rethink your position.” Turning his head, he glanced at the bartender. “Hey, Joe,” he said in a loud voice, “Can I use the back room for a few minutes?”

“Sure,” he said. “But, this time, you’ll need to clean up after you’re finished.”

Images ran through my brain, a slow-motion video of a Marine beating the shit out of me in the backroom. His dress uniform had ribbons and medals adorning the dark blue material. This man was a combat soldier, while I’m an accountant. The closest I’d ever come to a fight, as an adult, ended in disaster, as guy 20 pounds lighter than me kicked my butt…you guessed right, the conflict was over a woman.

“So,” he said, “What’s your name?”

“Jeff, Jeff Richards,” I said.

“Well, what do you say? Want the back room, or you going to agree?”

“She’ll never let you,” I said.

“If this is the case, no sweat, I walk away,” he said. “But Jeff, ole boy, the decision is hers, not yours. You will tell her as much. Agreed?”

In my mind’s eye, a vision of those enormous fists of his beating my face to a pulp. With resigned compliance, I nodded agreement. He told me to give him my wallet, I complied. He opened the billfold, went through everything, taking my license out. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket, wrote down the information. A moment later, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. Swiping here, touching something, he took a pick of my driver’s license, sent the image to someone, and called them.

“Hey, Steven, Captain Andrews here. Can you tell me if the information on the license I sent you is accurate?” he glimpsed at me. His face grew sterner, “Naw, nothing much, checking him out, he had a scrap with another driver. Want to be sure he doesn’t back out of his commitment…Give me the whole nine yards…Oh, you don’t say, the usual, line them up for me.”

He terminated the connection. He returned the license to the proper folder, thumbed through my money, credit cards, and the few other things in my wallet. When he Handed my billfold back to me, the man’s appearance softened. He reached into a pocket on the uniform and pulled out a golden cigarette case and lighter. He took a smoke out, tapped the cigarette down on the table, and lit his smoke. The cigarette sat between his full lips. Sucking in the fumes, deep, holding the vapors deep, for a moment, he exhaled the thick smoke.

“So, the first wife racking you over the coals financially?”

“No, no kids with her, and she remarried.”

“And the second one?”

“I have child support, but I can handle the payment,” I told him.

“What’s the new wife’s name?”

“Candy.”

“Candy’s dandy,” he said, lifting his glass. He put the cork back in the bottle. “Drink up, Jeff, boy.” He glanced at his wristwatch. Swilled down the rest of his glass. Standing, he strolled to the bar and handed the bottle to the bartender. “Put this in my stock, okay, Joe.” He turned to me with a grin on his face. “Let’s go to your place. I’m ready to fuck your sweet, Candy bitch.”

Everyone in the bar rubbernecked in my direction. The eyes of everyone in the bar seared into me. Without any proof, which I didn’t need in this case, I sensed their pity, too soft a word, disgust. The humiliation washed over me in a crashing wave as the inability to lock eyes with anyone took hold of me. As if I was his prisoner, he led me out of the bar. One man turned to his friend, halfway covered his mount, in a semi, hushed whispers, “Pore cuckold bastard, the black will ruin her.”

He had me climb into his car. With a stern glower, the Captain gazed at me as he started the car. With a smirking smile on his face, he glared into my eyes. The Marines dark eyes burned into me, and his contempt overwhelmed my own self-worth. I realized he believed he was superior to me. He reached over and put his bear-paw of hand on my shoulder, squeezed till a hard twinge of pain erupted.

“Don’t think I don’t distrust of you. Because I can spot a cuckold wan-a-be a mile away, boy.” The boy burned in my ears. “You haven’t accepted your role. Not yet, I’m not letting you chicken out, you’ll keep the bitch, I’ll be the one fucking, hey, boy, this is the way things are in your new world.”

I wanted to believe he was wrong, but I didn’t. I had this sinking sensation, like a man who can’t swim anymore, submitting to the ocean, plummeting into a watery grave. This Marine found a buried desire, one I feared was always inside me, this terrible desire. Both my exes had other people in their lives, and I spent hours thinking about them fucking with each of their new lovers.

This horrible nagging thought bugged me how wonderful it would be to see Candy fucked. But not like this. This was beyond embarrassing, degrading me with others understanding what was about to happen. He’d made the announcement in a loud, commanding, and clear voice.

I didn’t want to admit to myself, she’d submit to his seduction. I hoped she’d slap his face, cuss him, shout to him, “Hit the fucking road, bub.” But, inside my brain, a niggling voice called.

“She’ll let him do what he wants, out of fear if nothing else, or worse, from desire.”

 

****

 

Vacuuming the hall, I barely caught the door open and close. Glancing up, my husband was standing in the doorway, with a sad expression on his face. This sadness gave him a miserable, lost appearance. Next to him stood a Marine in his snappy, navy-blue uniform. A striking man with dark skin, the brownest eyes, and a muscled frame, which his dress blues strained to contain. I figured he might be in his early thirties.

“This is Captain Andrews,” my husband said. Looking down at the floor, he moved his toe in a strange circular motion on the tile. “I brought him here to meet you.”

The Captain tossed his hat on the table next to the door and walked toward me. A brimming grin covered the man’s face. In a few short strides, the Marine marched right to me, switched off my vacuum, and pulled me away from my task. Taking my arm, he led me to the living room, right in front of our fireplace.

My husband closed the door standing in the distance, viewing but not reacting, as if his feet were in cement. He spied on us from a space of fifteen feet as this stranger guided me away from him. I realize my husband would never put me in danger. Yes, he’s a wimp. Still, he would never allow anything terrible to happen to me.

His sweet disposition drew me to him. Well, his sweetness and his money. I remember when we first met. A pleasant thought of how I took no time at all to grow used to him sitting at the bar and gabbing with me. Once, he confided in me how terrible his marriage was and how he needed a friend. How to say this? Things happened. But in our romance, I still had to be the aggressor due to his passive personality in all things not concerning business.

At business, Jeffery is ruthless. In any other thing, he is passive, close to spinless in confrontations, so he avoids them. In the decision at home, Jeff yields to my wishes. In the bedroom, he is submissive. All these things drew me to him, not the spinless part, not the yielding to anyone in a bar, a restaurant, or on the street to avoid shouts or threats. Who can love a piece of man which strips his manhood? If I’m honest, I miss being with a man who wanted me and showed me he did.

The black visitor took me in his arms, his face descended toward mine, his lips pressed against me. I put my hands on his muscular chest, pushing to no avail. He kissed me, his thick lips pressed against mine, heat jumped from him to me. I continued to resist trying to stop kissing him, fighting the part of me which wished our embrace not to end.

I glanced over at Jeff, standing with this odd, mysterious expression on his face. When he realized I understood his, he turned away, studying a painting of me on the wall. When he believed I’d change my attention, he turned back.

Understanding of the situation escaped me for a moment. So, I closed my eyes, still struggling, pushing on the man’s chest his arms. The Marine wound his long tongue into my mouth. Relentless, he continued his assault on me. His hand roamed my body. I flushed with excitement as his embrace engulfed me in emotions and passion. We broke apart for a moment.

“Oh please, sir, this is wrong,” I exclaimed. Turning, I gawked at my husband. “Dear?” I asked, and he understood the question.

“It’s okay,” he said. “If you want to, I’m fine with this. If you don’t…”

Before he finished, I turned back to the man, wrapped my arms around him, and pulled him to me. All I had needed was permission. Since forever, this dark taboo had burned inside me, fascinated with the African American people surrounding me growing up in my bigoted home and community.

The supposed wrongness of the desire tempted me, intrigued me. The fear of my father always kept me from acting. My father was nowhere near, and my husband gave me his blessing. I believed he wanted this to happen. For my part, I was not about to question him about him being fine with what would happen.

The fire crackled and popped as the flames inside the fireplace burned. At the same time, our passion flared. I began to undress this towering, Nubian God. All the while, his hands tugged and pulled on my clothing. When the dress didn’t slide off my body quickly, he ripped the garment from me with a savage, wanton eagerness. We sank to the floor. With a tender softness, he teased me, licking my body here, a light biting me in this place, and I gave in to his hankering hunger.

The order of things became a blur, hands here, lips kissing body parts, our bodies entwined on the living room floor as tongues danced in one another’s mouths. The room had a yellow glow from the light of the setting sun flooding through the oversized picture window at the front of the house.

I touched the rock-hard muscles of this aggressive man, and my own will evaporated. A real man desired me in a manner my husband didn’t match. He lay on his back and guided my head to his crotch. My insides convulsed as my mixed emotions rooted into a flaming desire. I stole glances at Jeff, a gloomy, intense countenance on his face, his tiny dick poking straight out in loose-fitting golf slacks.

In a flash, I realized Jeff liked this, my husband enjoyed the experience. Still, I appreciate he hated what was happening. The cuckold stood powerless to stop this. The sad truth was, Jeffery had the right to terminate this strange experiment right up to the moment he told me he didn’t mind if I fucked this man.

The fact was, he lost his rights to the exclusivity of my body when he gave me permission. Truth is, if he hadn’t given me permission, I’d have sought out this man behind his back. Things were better this way, in the open and honest. Besides all those things, my body belongs to me, and I determine who fucks me. After all, Jeffery was born to be cuckolded. Lucky for him, he earned lots of money for me.

I sucked on the man’s huge, black cock for such a long time. I played with the Captain’s beefy balls as I sucked the bulbous, black knob and some few inches of his splendid cock. In truth, this was all I able to fit in my mouth. When those balls raised away from me, retreating a bit, I understood what was about to happen.

I sensed the semen ridding up his magnificent pecker, the skin of his dick rippling as his load built, as cum traveled toward my mouth. The hot nut juice shot from his dickhead, with tremendous force. Much of his baby stuff spurted down my throat. Cum filled my mouth, so much so, some leaked, dribbling down on his belly and ran down his mahogany shaft, covering my hands in the process.

“Don’t swallow it, baby. Come over here, boy,” the Captain said to Jeff. “Come eat your reward.”

Jeff walked over to us. The Captain snapped his fingers, pointed to the floor, and Jeff, without resistance, knelt.

“Spitball him, baby.”

Taking Jeff’s face in my hands, I pushed my lips to his and forced the cum from my mouth into his.

“Eat your reward down, boy. Now put your ass back over yonder and eyeball this, play with yourself, cucky boy.”

Jeffery did as he was ordered. I realized Jeff was frightened senseless by this man. The strangest thing was, I believed that Jeff didn’t mind eating cum.

Returning my attention to Captain Andrews, and to my surprise, the fucking monster cock hadn’t gone limp. Captain Andrews laid me down, positioned himself between my legs. His full lips pressed against my labia, and his long, plump tongue snaked out, running over the sensitive flesh, exploring every fold, flicking across my clit.

I had rushes of emotions as my body reacted to his expert stimulus. My hips ground into his face, my back arched and twisted from one side to the other, and I moaned, my voice husky and raw. As if I lifted out of my body, observing us in my mind’s eye, and the contrast of our skins pleased me artistically.

A strange desire took hold as I opened my eyes, turning and staring at Jeff. I wanted him to accept this. Relief filled me as my husband, in his oversized armchair, clutching his tiny wiener between two fingers and his thumb, blissfully whacking off like a sweetie pie cuckold. Thoughtful of him to reinforce my permission fuck a god while he took pleasure in my pleasure.

So, I let loose and became vocal giving this colossal, formidable, black animal, allowing him to appreciate how wonderful he was doing me. Telling him where to lick and when to tongue fuck me. Wave after wave of orgasm passed over my body, turning me into a mass of quivering flesh.

When his fat, black cock pressed against the opening of my hot, wet pussy, dear lord, I let out a long soft hiss. A new wave of delight pulsed from my scorching crotch, radiating throughout my entire body. Waves of euphoria flooded me while my body quaked and shook as this bulbous knob pressed inside me.

My jumbled emotions consumed me, and Jeff scrutinized us like a college kid blundering into his parents’ room while they fucked. Wild-eyed, Jeff’s eyes were glued to us, filled with amazement. A tear ran down his face. He’d turn away in disgust, twisted back to gain a better view. All the while, jacking off his three-inch pecker as he scrutinized our fucking. As if he studied for a test.

“Let him cry,” I thought. “Let wimp cry.” This wasn’t some callus cruelty. Remember, he deserved this and desired what happened.

The sun went down, and we kept on fucking by firelight. From time to time, Jeff stood, his tiny prick peeking out of the fly of his cum stained khakis, strolling over, opened the gate, and tossed a new log on the fire. The concern he showed for our comfort was touching. I wondered if Jeff learned his purpose in a blinding revelation.

Once he closed the gate, he returned to his seat and continue with his masturbation festival. The realization dawned on me what pathetic a worm Jeffery was. After all, he hadn’t tried to stop this man. A natural-born cuckold, his only virtue, money.

In between each fucking, Jeffery diligently ate me clean. Time and again, my magnificent, black stallion made love to me on the floor of my husband’s and my living room. I responded each time, giving myself to his body and gave him all I had to offer. We were filled with our carnal pleasures, which can only be experienced in the abandonment of everything, not about the moment. Nothing else mattered, not Jeffery, not my parents. Only my Mandingo god and I held one iota of importance.

Jeff and his pleasure were no concern of mine at the moment. If I thought anything for or about him, you’d have to call a notion of disgusted dissatisfaction. He had been, and always would be, a woefully inadequate lover. I had been aware of his, pardon the pun, shortcomings. If I am honest with you, with myself, I had married him because of his weaknesses and wealth. Wimpy submissive men are easy to control.

This experience, with this incredible, ebony, wild beast, I’d hurt Jeff’s feelings for this. Hell, if this cost me, Jeff, to have this type of ecstatic rhapsody, only once…so, fucking be it. Besides, I wouldn’t lose the little worm. I believe he had found what he had searched for his entire life, a release from having to try and live up to, what for him, were impossible expectations.

The last fucking we did after my first night with Andrews, Jeffery helped, in his tender, loving way, touched me. While he got nothing for his efforts, his compliance made everything so perfect I can’t find the words. He carried for me in a way more profound than ever before. This freedom to be with another man liberated me from needing Jeffery for his money or being with him for his money. I understand now he loves me, and my happiness is all which matters to him.

The best thing about a wimp, they love you despite everything. In particular, the many things that serve to prove their uselessness forces them to love you more. If only because you put up with them. The realization for Jeff, the understanding his position, make me money and leave the rest to his betters, freed him as well. A man like Jeffery has neither the technique nor the equipment to make a woman happy.

 

****

 

Standing in the doorway, with Jayden beside me, I had a brutal realization. Deep inside me, I longed for this to happen in a place I allow no one to enter. The reasons for this are many but boils down to one essential fact. I’m a two-time loser. I’m a loser with my women, not only because I can’t satisfy them, I don’t want to put out the effort to do so. I like fucking, don’t take this wrong, but truth be told, jacking off works as well for me, better, I only need to satisfy myself.

Jayden gazed up down her body with an appreciative expression, placed his hat under his arm, and nudged me with his elbow. I said nothing, Jayden’s hand on my shoulder, clutching hard, a clenching vise-like hold, spurred me on to speak.

“This is Captain Andrews, Candy. Figured best thing was if I brought him here to meet you.”

“Hello, Captain,” she said, hesitating. “What a pleasure to meet you. Dear, if you’re bringing home a dinner guest, a teensy-weensy warning would be appreciated. I can make do you understand, Captain, but sometimes Jeffery is most inconsiderate.”

The Captain sauntered straight Candy, tossing his hat on the chair near the door as he marched to her. He loomed over her, his giant frame blocking her tiny one from my view. I wanted to run up to him and hit him. I understood the futility of the desire. He flipped off the still running vacuum and pushed the machine away from her. He linked his arm and hers together and escorted her by me into our living room.

I shut the door, standing my ground, with an inkling of fear lingering in my mind. That notwithstanding, I expected Candy to slap the Captain’s face. I wanted her to slap his face, and yet, at the exact moment, I wanted her to give in to Jayden. I wanted to be a man about this, but fear kept me in my place. I realized he wouldn’t hurt her, but I’m a different matter. I appreciated he’d beat my ass in a heartbeat.

Jayden took her in his arms, pulled her to him, picking her off her feet, kissing her. I realized he’d put his tongue into her mouth. She faked trying to resist him. Yes, I said faked. At best, her effort would be called halfhearted. I hated seeing him kiss her, hating more when she responded to his kiss. I don’t understand, but somehow, him fucking her would be less personal, less humiliating for me than this. Fucking can be sex, only sex, whereas kissing is intimate, so deeply personal.

In mock protest, Candy pushed against his colossal chest, his arms and appeared to struggle. Indeed, she only put on a show of resistance. The time drug on, as they took forever to break the embrace. He sat her down on her feet again, smiled at her.

I understood, no, t’isn’t right, sensed her reluctance to break away from him. I didn’t understand her, in those moments, at all. But a truth came to light, I realized, deep down inside me, I understood she’d fuck him in front of me or sneak off to do the deed behind my back. I’d lost the bet, and he, in some dark sexual way, owned her with one kiss.

Candy kept sneaking peeks at me. Studying my reactions, I realized she wanted permission. I sensed her slipping away from my hold. The fear she might not need me gnawed at my mind. Money might not be enough. If I didn’t let her do this terrible thing, this awful betrayal, she’d leave me.

I turned, glanced at her portrait on the wall while my life melted, like objects in a painting by Picasso. I hated the man’s pieces of shit art as much as I hated my pitiful excuse for manhood. The physical manifestation of my fear, coupled with my lack of internal fortitude, and my inability to hold onto my woman, turned my stomach.

She had closed her eyes when they kissed. She never did so when she kissed me. Powerless to do anything to stop her, her closed eyes meant something important. Oh, God, she’s his, not mine, not anymore. The only reaction I ever got when we made love was if I ate her pussy right; my darling wife hissed like a snake.

“Oh, please, Captain, don’t you realize this wrong. We’re hurting my husband. And I don’t want to hurt him,” she said, turning me, “Dear?”.

I thought she wanted me to rush over and hit the bastard. I hoped she wanted to say, Don’t do touch me. I cleared my head and realized none of what I wished was what she wanted. She wanted permission. Finding the words is hard for me. I’m not sure I can put this into words. I had an intense rush of jealousy.

While I hated what they were doing, I loved it as well. My prick rose to the occasion, growing to its pitiful, excited, modest state. I think the ultimate humiliation was she wanted permission. No, she’d submit if I gave her permission or not, so I gave my blessing. Giving her consent was the worst degradation.

“It’s okay,” I said. “If you want to, I’m fine with it. If you don’t…”

Before I finished the words, Candy turned back to Jayden, wrapping her arms around him, jumped up, and clutched his waist with her legs. My concerns melted away, losing all relevance, for he possessed her body and soul. What I wanted no longer mattered, not her, never to him, and now, not me either. Losing my manhood, I realized I had nothing to offer but wealth. I worried money mightn’t be enough.

The yellow light of the setting sun glowed on their bodies. They fumbled with buttons and zippers, and he held my wife naked in his arms. His monstrous prick bounced in anticipation as he laid her on the floor. He laid down on his back.

Reaching up to the back of her head, Jayden grabbed her by her beautiful, dishwater-blonde hair, guiding her mouth to the bulbous dickhead. Like a cat over a dead mouse, Candy licked her lips, kissed the bulbous knob. The sight of her kissing his cock, her ruby lips, his bluish-black helmet, was so fucking hot. Love, hate, jealousy, and sensual joy mixed as I whacked away at my own dick.

Running her tongue around the head, under the helmet, and up and down his enormous shaft. Candy was the cute woman teasing someone with a chunky, all-day sucker. And the someone was me, teasing me, tormenting me, both simultaneously. Putting her beautiful face over his gigantic dickhead, she strained her lips to cover his member. He pushed her down on his cock, pushing back her mouth. He shoved her this way and pulled her in another direction.

Always he kept the pressure on her head, pushing more of his pecker inside her mouth. Candy took in at least seven inches, with more left than she might fit inside her mouth; Candy jacked the rest. With zeal, Candy sucked him as best she might. Seeing the burly glob of a pecker-head bobbing her throat was erotic. Damn, thinking how the bastard’s dick filled her face mortified me, but she appeared so happy, so enraptured. How might I be anything but pleased? Never had she gazed at me with such adoration.

At last, he pulled his shaft back until only the cockhead remained in her lovely mouth. With her tiny white hands, Candy pumped him furiously. Vast globs of cum leaked out of her mouth, while some exploded from between her mouth and his cock. Viscous jissom sprayed on his belly, ran down his black dick, covering her hands.

Turning into a greedy cum whore, she lapped up all is discharge, cleaning dickhead, pecker shaft, and ball sack before cleaning every drop from hands and face. She lay against his body, resting, but he wasn’t done with her. His pecker didn’t shrink, didn’t soften, standing ridged like a tawny tower of black marble.

“Don’t swallow it, baby. Come over here, boy,” the Captain said to me. “Come lap up your reward.”

With this terrible angst, I walked the. Jayden did his authoritative finger snap and pointed at the floor. Without offering any resistance, I knelt. At that moment, I understood my reward. Angst turned to disgust as he ordered my wife to feed me his cum.

With her hands on either side of my face, she moved into me, opening her mouth for me to catch a better view of Jayden’s nasty spunk I was about to eat. Pressing her lips to mine, she pushed the disgusting tick spunk into my mouth.

“Eat your reward down, boy. Now set your ass back over there and ogle some good fucking, jerking your baby-sized dick, boy.”

Wanting to hate the foul discharge, I held the semen in my mouth, a gooey mixture of her spit and his cum coated the inside of my mouth, and to my horror, I realized I didn’t hate the flavor. Honestly, I liked the tang and ate his cum willing. Standing, I returned to my chair.

With a gentle touch, he placed her on her back, spread her legs, and put his face into her crotch. For thirty minutes, he munched her into one mind-blowing orgasmic explosion. She squirmed and writhed on the floor. With loud moans, groans, and deep guttural grunts from her throat, profanities slipped from her mouth as she graphically told him what a god of fucking, he was.

His boner became harder if you can believe this. With no effort, he picked Candy up and laid her against the wall, holding her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around him. Candy grabbed his superior pecker, she guided his cock to her opening. Without hesitation, he bucked his hips, impaling her with about four chubby inches of pecker meat.

She let her hiss, her snake sound filled the room with a warning, “Stay the fuck away,” without saying the words. In truth, she’d never hissed so loud, so charged with energy, as in the moment. Jayden bucked his hips again, another four inches or more shoved inside her tiny body. Soon, he put all ten plus inches of his Johnson inside her body. I imagined the ripping of her tender flesh as he violated her tight, little pussy.

“Man, she’s some primo cunt, boy,” he said. “I told you, I’d fuck your wife.”

And he did, for hours, Jayden fucked her, standing sitting on the couch and laying on the floor. He fucked her in a way I never did, a way I couldn’t. This glorious man caused her to experience things I would never be able to. Fucking her like a madman, with unbelievable energy.

In between their couplings, I’d eat her clean as best I might. Lapping from her pussy, all the salty, savory black man baby batter I might take. Sometimes, she even had a little orgasm as I did. Her pleasure from my tongue gave me such a thrill.

The contrast in their skin tones drove me wild. I should admit this, while I was humiliated, viewing them fucking turned me on like nobody’s business. The orgasm I achieved was the most enjoyable of my life.

Seeing her wedding band on her hand when she touched him, the ring of gold I gave her, glinting in the flickering firelight next to his dark skin, hot, holy shit. Her licking his cum off the wedding band I gave her got me a boner each time she did.

Seeing her so happy, so vibrant and alive, fucking him like she never, ever fucked me. Oh, yes, this is embarrassing. Still, she was deep into the act, actually enjoying being ravaged. While I was filled with shame, I felt more excitement sexually than ever before in my life. I realize this makes me quite pathetic. Nevertheless, this was the wildest, most gratifying experience.

The last time, I mean the first night’s last time, my wife and his final, first fucking, I held her hand and stroked her face as he drove his marvelous prick into her soaking twat.

He was on top of her, she lay face down on the couch, and he pounded her so hard the sofa nearly broke under them. I held her hand; she kept mouthing, “I love you.”

Not to him, mind you, to me. He grunted, groaned, made lustful noises as he plowed Candy raw. But she told me she loved me. I experienced her rapture up close. The sweat on her skin, the blank expression in her eyes, as though her body and mind were overloaded. I sensed her orgasm while her body had incessant seizures under his rough, relentless fucking, as she climaxed over and over again. I’d say I perceived her climax almost as if I came as well. I never loved her more than when she told me she loved me while being ravaged by another man.

He finished, showered, redressed, and told us to expect visitors over the weekend. Sure enough, we had enlisted men, three of them, all blacks, visit us one at a time. They’ve been going on for three months now, and I think we are ready for this to end. We have determined to end things with Jayden this week. Yes, we are certain of this; our minds are made up.

I related all this to the counselor. When I said, our minds are made up, the waters rolled over, as the wave crested, sucking me away from shore, dragging me into the ocean, I couldn’t breathe. All because of the word she said.

“Well.”

 

****

 

“Well,” she said.

“Well,” the Doctor echoed, studying the man’s reaction to her comment. The Doctor was amused at the man’s pain.

“No, I mean, yes. I think I agree with Jeff on this,” the woman said to the counselor. “I think we have an equilibrium in our lives now and can grow out of this. We have been married for six months now. This was an adjustment phase, don’t you agree, Doctor?”

The counselor scribbled on his notepad, mumbling to himself. The older man glowered at the couple and shook his head. Turning back at his notes, he said something under his breath.

“What,” Jeff and Candy said in rough unison.

“You two are full of shit. Neither of you wants to stop. Candy, you’ll never enjoy fucking him,” he told Candy. “Be honest, he’s a fucking, worthless maggot of a man.”

“I promised him,” Candy said.

“To love,” the Doctor said, “honor, cherish, and be a fucking miserable cunt? This is no good, no, this is awful for you. Be honest, tell him.”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” Candy said.

“Bullshit, fucking bullshit. And you, Jeffery, you can’t afford to stop this activity. She’ll leave you in search of dick, real cock, not the Vienna sausage you have.” His thick German accent sounded harsh as he told them the God-Awful truth.

“But,” Jeffery said.

“Shut the fuck up, you spineless little faggot,” the Doctor said. “Candy, you’ll be a street whore in a few months if you stop cuckolding him. Do you want to be a whore?”

“No,” Candy said her shaking from side to side.

“She’ll be out of your life before she is hooking,” he told Jeff. Standing, he strolled toward them. He unzipped his pants and fished out a long, thick, uncut pecker. Jerking his limp cock lightly, it stiffened as he approached her.

“Open you whore mouth, bitch,” he ordered her. Banging his cock on her mouth until she opened for him, his cock stretched her mouth. Twisting a handful of hair, he jabbed his huge, white dick inside her mouth, down her throat. For his part, Jeff loved how Candy’s eyes rolled back in her head as the old man’s throat fucked Jeffery’s bitch. The Doctor’s blubbery, hanging balls slapping her neck as the head of his cock engorged her.

“Candy is dandy,” he told Jeff as he gouged Candy’s throat with his engorged dong. He fucked her face harder than anyone ever had.

Jeff’s humiliation built, along with a small lump in his pants that needed attention.

The session went long that day. From that point on, they attended sessions twice a week. Their Doctor charged them a significant increase per session for the fringe benefit he provided them in between their bulls visits. When their bull was transferred, the Doctor took over. Providing long, intense therapy seasons with the weekends included.