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Subject: {ASSM} {ASSC} Boss Man {Pervitron} (cuckold slutwife interr) RP
Date: Fri,  8 Jun 2001 02:10:03 -0400
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"Boss Man"
   by Pervitron


   Tammy and I were very happy in the first few months of
our marriage.  Hers was the love I had always looked for.
Tammy was such a sweet young girl, a virgin of 20 when we
married. She was flat out gorgeous, but you wouldn't know it
to look at her in the street. She hid her shapely body and
legs in loose, long cut dresses, and kept her thick black
hair pinned back.   She was a lady, a beautiful angel. She
was a minister's daughter, raised in a deeply Christian
household, and her strong religious convictions made her
very conscious to not dress provocatively.  I'd come to know
over the few months what a spectacular body she had.  I felt
privileged to have seen it all, and to have been the first
man to feel the inside of her lovely young pussy.

   In contrast to her, I was much more adventurous
sexually. Certainly no virgin, by the time I was her age I
had had many women.  Sex was the most important thing in my
life.  You might even consider me a sex addict; I spent many
hours in strip clubs and adult bookstores, enjoying
pornography and the pleasures of feeling up strippers.  In
fact, I continued to do this even after we were married,
because while Tammy was the love of my life, there were
feelings and urges that she didn't satisfy.  There was no
way I could tell her about this, she wouldn't understand, so
it remained a secret I kept from her.

   Marriage so far had been a compromise.  I brought her
along slowly; She was very resistant to do anything she
considered "kinky", and to her that included blowjobs and
any kind of ass play.  I was crazy enough about her to hold
myself back.  It was tough for me.  Birth con- trol was out
of the question because of her religion, so early in our
marriage, before we wanted children, there were long periods
when I didn't get anything at all. But as tough as it was, I
did love her, and I even treated it like a tease. Slowly,
over the months, she was loosening up, and with each new
boundary we crossed I felt encouraged. Just small things,
things like kiss- ing my cock or letting me talk dirty to
her while we "made love" really got me off, they felt to me
like conquests, because she was so resistant.  And oh, so
beautiful.  I longed for the future, because I knew that
someday I'd have her doing anything I wanted. Someday I'd
have her kneeling before me, and looking up at me, waiting
for me to blow my load all over her pretty face.

   But, you know, woman of a certain age start thinking
of babies, and Tammy was that age.  So after we were married
almost a year she decided we'd try for one. And it was like
a switch was thrown in her head - all of a sudden she craved
sex.  She had no problem doing what I wanted to get started
- lots of nights I'd come home to find her in the slutwear
she refused to wear for me when we were first married. There
was a part of me that felt resentful, used, because she
wasn't doing these things for me, just to use my urges to
get what she wanted: a baby.  So there she'd be when I got
home from work, all dolled up like a groupie, with a bikini
top, skimpy cotton dress high enough to show the tops of her
thigh-highs, and the "fuck me" pumps I loved so much. Yeah,
she had the look, she knew what I liked and how to tease,
but she wouldn't really act the part.  I wanted to get head;
I wanted her eyes looking up at me from down there. That was
all I thought about, but she just wouldn't do it. It was the
same excuse she used all along: "In the eyes of God it was
unnatural". Still the "nice girl" inside. But I knew the
real reason - She wasn't about to waste any of my precious
baby seed that way.  So straight sex was all she'd allow. 
And from my end, straight sex 10 or so times a week is more
work than I bargained for.  I wasn't 18 anymore. A few times
we'd get started, she'd be under me, egging me on, tickling
my ass with her long nails, and all of a sudden something
would happen to me. I'd lose it, just go soft.  I'd be
ashamed, she'd say "That's OK."

   Months went on, there was no sign of a baby, and I
knew she was unhappy.

   As if that wasn't enough, money started becoming a
problem - I just didn't make enough. I was going to school
at night, but was stuck in a low paying day job until I
finished school. Things were real tight.   We lived in a
small apartment, and never had enough money for simple
pleasures like vacations.  We couldn't even afford to go out
to dinner when her friends invited us. It seemed like all
our friends had much more than we did. Some of her
girlfriends even had vacation homes.

   So she was unhappy enough about the money to go out to
work. She found a job as an office girl.  Every day she rode
the subway to her job downtown.  I felt terrible seeing her
go to work.  She never complained openly, she really was a
sweet girl, but there were times, especially when she was
talking with her better off friends that I saw a hint of
unhappiness, real jealousy.  The man in me knew this wasn't
right.  If we could just hold on for a few years, things
would be better.  I'd make more money after I finished
school. She could quit, I'd have more time, more energy, and
enough money to provide for her. Then maybe those baby
juices would kick in again. I was determined to stick it
out. I still loved her.

   She had been working a few months when she started
acting out about it.  She'd be silent, almost sullen when
she came home, saying little about what went on. She worked
for some company downtown - all I knew was its name, Invigra
Inc., and that she spent her day doing some kind of clerical
work.  I could sense a change in her.  She wasn't after me
for sex anymore. She started being angry all the time. 
She'd come home from work and not even talk to me, and I
felt miser- able.  I felt like a failure.

   For a week or so I consoled myself by spending more
time in the strip clubs after work. The girls there weren't
so demanding, just a quick buck and they shook their ass for
me. But after having the promise of her, the hope that she
would turn into some dark angel in bed, these diversions
didn't satisfy anymore.

   So one day I confronted her.  "What's with you? Ever
since you started this job you've changed.  I told you it
would only be till I finished school, but you're acting like
you're mad about it!"

   She just ran into the bedroom, tears in her eyes and
closed the door.  "Fuck her!" I thought. I got my coat on
and went out, out to the local titty bar.  I hadn't cheated
on Tammy at all since we'd been married, unless you count
feeling up strippers and sluts in these clubs.  My hands
worked overtime that night, and a lot of the money that
Tammy earned wound up laced through g-strings.

   She was sitting up in bed when I got home.  She said
she was sorry, but her unhappiness these past few weeks had
nothing to do with me. She wasn't mad about work- ing; she
just hated the place she was in.  What she told me next
changed my mood completely.

   "There's a boss there, and he's always hitting on me.
I have to go into his office, and he's always putting his
hands on me, touching my bottom."  She was starting to sob
as she said this, a tear falling in a slow roll down her
beautiful cheek. "He says things to me, dirty things." My
heart started beating faster.  Someone was going to get his
ass kicked.

   "What's his name?"

   "Brock."  What kind of name was that, I thought?

   "We'll Tammy, tomorrow I'm going to work with you. And
I can guarantee you this Brock asshole isn't ever going to
bother you again." I wanted her to know I'd take care of
this for her, I wanted her to feel safe, protected. I didn't
tell her that I hadn't been in a fight since grammar school.
 This guy Brock was probably some old office guy, grown
pudgy and soft around the middle. I told her I'd make this
guy sorry he ever messed with her. I showed her my fist, and
said,  "This guy will be one sorry motherfucker!"

   She just stared wide-eyed at me.

   When we got into the elevator the next morning, she
pressed floor 45.  I noticed that Invigra had floors 39-45
in the building, and I pondered the meaning of her working
on the top floor. I guessed that this Brock was some bigwig
in the company.  I figured the guy was some old business
fart, I'd make short work of him.

   The offices on the 45th floor seemed very prosperous
indeed.  Very plush and dignified, our footsteps were silent
in the thick carpeting.  The receptionist was an
extraordinarily beautiful woman, a polished Nordic beauty,
wearing a thin silk blouse.  I could see a hint of
protruding nipples, and I felt myself stir.

   Tammy asked for Brock, and we were asked to wait for a
few minutes.  While we were waiting on the couch, I amused
myself by checking out the people in the office as they
walked through the corridor.  Almost everyone was female,
and they were all knockouts, young woman in their early
20's, impeccably dressed and attractively made up.  Even
their voices were sexy.  I wondered if Invigra was some sort
of modeling agency.  I was about to ask Tammy when a tall,
shapely oriental woman told us the Mr. Brock would see us
now.

   As we walked through the hall to his office, I got
myself ready.  I was going to surprise the prick, get right
in his face.  Just one word from him and I'd throw his sorry
ass right through the fuckin window.

   The Asian girl opened the door, and for a moment, I
just took in the surroundings.  Mr. Brock's office was the
size of our apartment.  It was a corner office with two
floor-to-ceiling, windows that looked out on the harbor.
There was a sitting area with a couch and two easy chairs on
the right as you walked in, a rich mahogany bar on the left,
and a long expanse of thick red carpeting before Brock's
desk.

   He was standing there, and at the first sight of him
all my plans of kicking his sorry ass through the window
evaporated. I'd need to try something different. Brock was a
huge black man, at least 6'7", and he pro- bably weighed
about 250 pounds.  He was in his late twenties, there was an
athletic grace to his movements as he rose from behind his
big desk and sauntered over to us.  No way I'd last two
seconds in a fight with him. He shook my hand:  "Tammy's
told me all about you."  He looked down at me, and gave
enough of a squeeze in his grip to make me grimace.  Somehow
he knew what I was there for.

   I couldn't talk, couldn't get the words out of my
throat.  He looked at me, with the light of a smirk in his
eyes.  "What's on your mind?" he said with a bit of a
challenge. There was something disorientating about him. In
addition to his physical bulk, there was an air of settled
power and prosperity about him.  His was dressed in a custom
tailored pinstripe suit, a silk tie that probably itself
cost my weeks wages. He had lots of expensive jewelry: A
solid gold watch, several large rings, and his right ear had
a 3 or 4 carat diamond stud. He exuded power and confidence.

   Guessing how he made it here, I had an image of him
beating some drug dealer to death in a dark alley, winning
his first piece of turf on his climb to the top.  But there
was another image that fit also, because I had to admit the
man had an air of intel- ligence, a winning combination of 
ballsy wit and a cat-like alertness.  He could have made it
here with his brains too, dealing on the trading floor of an
exchange.

   I had to say something.  Both he and Tammy were
staring at me.  I started to look at Tammy, but I couldn't
meet those beautiful green eyes that stared back at me. I
knew she remembered how big and tough I'd sounded last
night, how I ran my mouth about what I would do to Brock.  I
realized she looked at me the same way last night and I
realized she hadn't give me even a hint of what Brock was
like.  I didn't like the feeling that gave me; She knew what
I was getting myself into, and she let it happen.

   "Well, Tammy, guess I'll just get back to work while
your MAN here gets himself together." He gave Tammy a quick
wink he turned and started back to his desk.  As he sat down
he laughed: "Guess a cat's got his tongue!" He leaned back
in his leather chair and studied me. Sizing me up with a
cool hard stare.  I couldn't hold his gaze, I had to look
past him at the boats in the harbor behind him.  The ball
was in my court, and I felt helpless.

   He pressed a button and said, "Bring in some
refreshments for my guests, please."  Still leaning back,
the silence held the charge in the air.

   "Tammy tells me you kids are trying to have a child."
He was starting, he knew he had an opening and would work on
the wound. "Kids," even though he was a year or so younger
than us. I had the sick sense of where he was going.

   "But it's been months now, and I don't see any change
in her lovely figure."

   "But then again, it might take .... many years..." He
was grinning from ear to ear, flashing his big white teeth,
"...Considering what you have to work with!"

   He eased back in his chair, letting fly with a big,
booming laugh.

   Finally, I forced some words out, "y-y-y-y-you know,
y-y-y-you c-c-c-an't harass w-w-women that work for you!" I
was gulping for air as I fought to get the words out.

   "Lighten up, man."  He was so cool, calm, "You know, I
can do whatever I want.  The law says I can't 'harass',
well, let me tell you, the law applies only to chumps like
you."  There was a flash in his eyes. "Fact is, I can pick
up this phone and be talking to the Governor in about two
minutes.  Think you gonna tell me about the law?"

   He started back in:  "What was that word, 'harass'.
Well that means unwelcome, but let me tell you chump, your
woman has needs, she be givin off all kinds of signals,
hints like, you know what I mean?"  He fell into an
insolent, easy jive, I could feel the blood rise in my
cheeks as I watched his smile start again - "But no you
wouldn't know, sorry-ass wuss like you get no signals no
time, ha, ha, ha!"

   The door opened, and one of the most beautiful women
I'd ever seen walked in.  She walked like she was on a
runway, with a smooth rocking motion to show the form of her
legs and the lift of her high heels.  She was carrying a
tray of drinks, and when she turned to set them on the low
credenza, she bent low, and I saw even more of her smooth,
sexy legs.  My eyes were locked on her, there was a certain
charge in the air, and even though I was sick with fear I
felt desire stir, knowing that the feel of her against my
body would comfort me. But she was his, I knew it.  I
watched her leave the same way she'd come in.  When I looked
back at Brock, he was staring at me.  I knew he never even
glanced at her the whole time, even though the show was for
him. He didn't need to, because his dick probably knew every
sweet fold and crevice of her body.  He was staring hard at
me.  A line had been crossed.

   "Its a great country ain't it?" He was toying with me
now, enjoying the upper hand, the way a cat plays with a
cornered mouse. "Guy can really make somethin of his- self
here, all you need is a pair of big balls, but then again,
guess you wouldn't know bout that!"

   He rose and walked over to us, and stood over me.  I
was sitting low in the sofa, he seemed like a giant
glowering down at me. "C'mon, get up. What you waitin for,
boy.  Your lady, here, she be thinkin you don't care about
her.  C'mon, make me stop hittin on her!"

   Tammy was watching me, watching with the same stare
she had been wearing ever since we entered the office.  All
last night she had been quiet, letting me build myself up,
talk big, even though she knew what I was getting myself
into.  A word from her would have made me hesitate, but no,
she let me go on, let me talk myself into it.  And then I
knew what that look was.  She was laying low, waiting, ready
for the winner.

   "Lily-ass punk, I'm gonna kick you outta my office."
He reached down with his big hands and pulled me up off the
couch by the collar. My heart was beating like a rabbit, I
was fighting for breath. My feet were lifted off the floor,
and he must have done this with one hand, because the other
hand was drawn back in a fist. I could see the flash of his
gold rings on thick wide knuckles. I couldn't look away
because the rings had sharp points, jagged razor-like edges,
made to tear up the face of a victim.  I felt like I would
throw up, and I began to feel dizzy with the stress and
fear.

   Tammy went up to him, put her hands on his big
shoulders, and said, "Please don't hurt him."  That's what I
was reduced to.  He threw me down on the couch like a sack
of shit. My pants were wet.  Tammy looked at the wet spot on
my pants and I saw a momentary look of disgust, of
revulsion, on her face. With a look like, that, I knew she
was gone. Brick looked at Tammy, pointed down at me and
said, "Thinks he's gonna tell me what I can't do."

   He walked over to her, and said softly, "Why you wast-
ing your time with this loser?"  She had no answer. "You
need a man to take care of you, protect you, not the other
way around."  He walked slowly, easily over to his desk,
completely unconcerned that he was turning his back on me. 
He opened a desk drawer, and took out a long dark box, and
then came up to her and said, "Here. This is for you."  As
she opened it, he was standing behind her, caressing her
shoulders. I could see that his big hands had long, sensual
fingers. She opened the box, and her mouth opened in a small
"Oh," as she saw his gift. I could see the jewels in the
necklace and a look of joy in her bright eyes.  He drew it
from her hand, and then, slowly, moved behind her, and with
smooth, languorous, almost reverent movements draw it tight
around her neck.  "A fine lady needs to wear fine jewels."

   It didn't matter that he probably had a drawer full of
these things, ready to charm whatever piece of ass walked
into his office.  What mattered was that it probably cost
two years of my pay, and she never had anything so nice
before, something to show her friends, a symbol of a mans
devotion. As he closed it around her, he kissed her on the
neck.  She wasn't drawing away, just looking off into some
distant, inner land- scape. He kept planting small kisses
all along the side of her neck.  When he put his lips into
her ear, and started whispering to her, she rested her head
back against his shoulder.

   She broke into a bright smile as she heard his
whispers.  One of her hands was absently feeling the
necklace on her neck, and she reached back with the other
hand and caressed the side of his face.  The bitch!

   It was like I wasn't there anymore.  He was moving on
her like an expert, kissing her neck, and as he moved from
her neck up her ear, her head tilted bach, showing her
pleasure. Then all of a sudden he reached into her dress and
started squeezing her breasts.  Biting softly on her ears,
whispering.  I could make out a few phrases: "...make you
feel real good...", "...deep in- side...", and, as he slid
his hands down towards her crotch, "...feel that fine, soft
pussy..."  When his hands got there,  she closed her eyes,
and bit her lower lip. "...want a real man to give you a
baby..?" her chest heaved.

   She turned toward him and put both arms over his big
shoulders.  She stood high on her toes.  She was whis-
pering back to him now, and while she nuzzled her face
against his cheek he was pawing her ass.  She drew back and
started to undo his tie.  She turned and looked me straight
in the eye.  So bold, so hot she was. The smirk was gone,
here was a woman who had found what she needed. For months I
was trying to get her like this, trying to break through her
reserve, and even though her creamy pussy didn't want me;
the sight of her like this got me hot. His silk tie made a
whistling sound as she pulled it off.  When she undid all
the buttons of his shirt, and spread it open to expose his
torso, I could see the excitement on her beautiful face. 
His body was spectacular, all lean, tight muscle, chiseled
like polished black granite.

   He took her hand and pushed it down in his pants, and
I could see the interest on her face as she felt his big
tool.  I could see her hand moving inside his pants.  I was
stunned now, in shock from a sort of sensory overload.  A
part of me was trying to estimate how big his prick was, by
inspecting the range of motion of her hands, and a part of
me wanted to commit murder.  She reached her other hand
down, and opened his belt,  and then got down on her knees
to pull his pants down.

   The man had reason to be proud.  It wasn't even fully
erect yet,  but it was already much larger than any other
dick I've seen.  And very wide.  My wife was kneeling now,
just a foot or so from it, and I involun- tarily wondered
how much of it she could take.

   "Suck my cock,  baby!", and slowly, slowly she brought
her lips closer to it. When she finally touched it, and
started to draw the length of it inside her mouth, I felt an
electric surge move through my body.  The push of that big,
black Johnson into her mouth was hot stuff to watch.  My
cock surged against my wet pants, as I saw her lips
stretching, watching her resist the impulse to gag as she
took as much as she could in her throat.

   She never did that for me.  For months I was bringing
her along slowly, respectfully, being careful not to sully
her with my carnal needs. I knew now that I was a fool -
what she really wanted was a man to take her without asking.
She was going down eagerly, working like a coke whore  on
the biggest, meanest guy I had ever seen.  He was getting
the treatment, the silky lip, soft tongue, careful slow suck
that is the wet dream of every man. Every few minutes she
would slide him out of her mouth, and then lower her face so
she could tickle first one ball, then the other, with her
long, wet tongue.  When she would do this I would hear him
murmur, "You are one fine bitch."  Then she would slide him
back into her mouth, and then stare directly at me.   My
cock was burning, and my mind was spinning.

   Once he draw her up, and then whispered something in
her ear.  I saw her nod, and he walked back over to me. "Get
yo ass up off my couch!"  I got up sheepishly;  My beautiful
wife took her skirt and panties off and lay back on the
couch, lifting her legs high and wide, ex- posing her
wonderful cunt to us.  But no, it wasn't to us, it was to
him.  He undressed, slowly, savoring his conquest, enjoying
the opportunity for some more in- sults.  "Here, hold
these," handing me his pants and shirt.

   I just stood there, unable to move, but not really
wanting to anymore either.  I wanted to watch it happen, I
wanted to see him do Tammy.  My excitement showed, Brock
noticed my hard cock inside my wet pants. "Tammy, get a load
of that little thing there, all ready for action!"  They
both laughed, and as I stood there, holding his clothes, as
he climbed on top of her.

   I could see her face beneath his hard back and
shoulders.  She was all red, her lips were flushed with
passion, and she stared up at him as she reached for his big
thick cock and positioned it at her moist gate.  He pushed
the tip in, and he said, "C'mon girl, put your legs up over
my shoulders."

   From my position I could see his ball sacs and the
long fat prick pushing down into her.

   The air was electric. He started pushing in, and her
face jumped, I could almost feel the sharp pain, "No, Brock,
you're hurting me!!!"

   "Guess you ain't used to real meat, bitch!.  Man, you
tight like a teenybopper, ain't really been done yet!"

   He wasn't stopping, he continued to drive in, slowly,
even though she was crying out in pain.  It seemed like he
was being deliberately slow, enjoying the feel of breaking
her wide open. It seemed like an eternity, watching the
length of his Johnson plunge into her, spreading her out
underneath him, settling his body full on her wide open ass.

   Finally, he was all the way in, and he stopped a
moment and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead. "There
now, it only hurt cause you ain't used to me, but you be OK,
you're mine now."

   She just looked over at me, glassy eyed.  He held her
tight by her shoulders, she was pinned under him as he
started pumping.  She was helpless, but it really didn't
matter, because I could see she was over the edge, that
sweet spot where the pain turns into sur- render.

   "Oh, Brock!"  Now she was digging it, enjoying the
stab of his love tool deep down inside. Her mouth was pres-
sed against his hard shoulder, she was giving him lit- tle
love bites. "Oh, God, that feels good! Fuck, that big cock
feels sooo good!!"

   "Man, Tammy, you be one sweet cunt! So nice and
tight!"

   Oh, I loved the sight of her, watching the way she
gasped with every thrust, watching her being carried to the
edge, hissing her pleasure like a wild animal. She was
looking up at him, and I could see her cheeks were wet. 
They were tears of pleasure.

   Brock stopped for a moment,  Just when she was ready,
just at that moment when he knew she was right there, almost
ready to explode inside, he stopped thrusting and looked at
her.  He knew just what to do, how to use this moment, this
ache he aroused in her.

   He looked into her crying eyes, and brought his face
down within an inch of her, and gave her the sweetest,
gentle little kiss on her lips, and whispered, "You like
this, baby?"

   "Y-y-y-yes,", softly, like a prayer.

   And he answered with a soft wet kiss. "You'll be my
girl from now on?"

   "Y-y-y-yes," loving what she heard.

   "You be my bitch?"

   "Y-y-yes, I do, I want that."

   I thought I'd burst from passion, I felt like I was
witness to some dark, sinful intimacy.  I loved it too,
feeling a vicarious pleasure at the treatment the man was
getting from her, watching the smooth way he played her.  I
started to rub myself as I listened, forgetting the
humiliation, caught up in the sparks that flew be- tween
them.

   "I like my bitches be always there, case my dick get
hard, need some sweet lovin, some o dat there sugar you got
inside."

   "Oh, Jesus, I want to be the one you come to, oh,
Christ, Brock, I love feeling your big dick inside me!" He
was hearing what he wanted, and he started moving again,
slowly pulling and pushing that big thing inside her.

   "Gonna shoot you full of my baby juice, your belly be
full of me!"

   "Ohhhhh, Brock, I want your baby, oh you mean stud,
pump it deep inside me, I want your baby!!" She was coming,
I saw a big smile of satisfaction on his face as she let
loose. I came at the same time she did, loving the sight of
the big man in action.

   That was a long time ago. He still comes over to our
house every so often.  My job is to keep his son quiet,
because Brock gets pissed off if his cries disturb their
lovemaking, and all I have to do is feel my den- tures with
my tongue to remind me of what he's like when he gets upset.

   When he calls and says he's coming, I help Tammy get
ready for him.  I brush her hair, and help her put on the
jewelry he's bought for her.  I now give expert pedicures. 
I make sure dinner is almost ready when he arrives, the
table is set, and the crystal is polished. When he arrives,
I meet him at the door, wearing an apron.

   When I bring them their drinks in the living room,
she's already wrapped in his big arms.  My abuse is now part
of their foreplay, he loves to tease me and she loves to
watch him do it.  Its a long drawn out scene, he starts
slowly, talking about how silly I look, and criticizing the
way I keep "his" house. He'll ask Tammy if I've made any
moves on her since he was there last.  And even though I
wouldn't dare, she always lies, she turns to him and
whispers in his ear about some indiscretion I've committed. 
Whispers while she's looking right at me, and I see a little
smug smile on her face.  Brock will smile too, almost laugh,
he knows its a lie, but its his cue to get physical.

   He gets up and grabs me, holding me with one hand
while he bitch-slaps me with the other.  He'll slap me until
I cry, Tammy laying there all happy inside, her juices
flowing at the sight of her man in action.

   All night long I sit with his son, hovering nearby in
case he wakes. But sometimes, when he's in a deep sleep, I
slip away, and walk towards "our" bedroom. I wait outside
and listen carefully, and some sick in- stinct in me makes
me stroke myself as I listen to them.  I can hear her deep
breathing, and I imagine the scene in my mind, the bulk of
him on top of her, the shudder of pleasure on her face as
the big man drives into her. She's not religious at all
anymore, it seems all she wants is that big dick pushing
into her, stretching the soft skin on her insides, filling
her with his precious seed.

   I love the mornings best of all.  When I wheel their
breakfast in, more often than not they're still at it. As I
push the bedroom door open I can see her red nails on his
big black ass, urging him deeper into her.  Her hands urging
him in, even through she screams like she's in pain.  "Oh
Christ, Brock no!"  He loves that, loves to feel like his
woman can't take him.  I know their games, I've heard every
shout and gasp of their lovemaking, and I'm rock hard as I
listen and pour their coffee.


-- the end --


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