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From: me <berry_naughty_guy@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sat, 13 Sep 2003 18:51:49 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: {ASSM} A Little Something (MF, MM, MMF, bd, interr, wife, tv)
Date: Sun, 14 Sep 2003 22:10:04 -0400
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This is my first story post. I'm pretty sure I fixed
all the errors.
It is copywright by me, berry_naughty_guy, 2003.
It contains descriptions of sexual activity that may
be illeagal for some to read depending on location and
age. If you're not allowed to read this, please don't.
Constructive comments appreciated, email them to
berry_naughty_guy at yahoo dot com
modify in the obvious way to actually send the email.
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<1st attachment, "A little something.txt" begin>
A Little Something
By berry_naughty_guy
I was wearing a fuscia mesh bustier and g-string with black
thigh high stockings attached to the garters of the bustier.
Tied, on my stomach, to a low upholstered chest in the living
room, across the width of the chest rather than the length so
that my head and ass were hanging off, I watched as the stocky
black man fucked my wife on my living room floor. The ropes held
my knees and ankles apart so my ass and balls were widely
exposed, and one of my hands was tied tight to my back by the
ropes that held me immobile except for my right hand, which had
been left free.
My wife, Ann, had wrapped her legs around his body, holding him
close to her while he rocked back and forth inside her. His face
was buried in her neck, kissing and biting her as he filled her.
As he groaned, and my wife started to gasp quietly, I thought
about how the afternoon had begun.
He had rung the doorbell, and I had answered, wearing the
lingerie and nothing else. He walked in, and let his finger trace
my cock through the flimsy fabric of the g-string, saying to me
"Nice of you to dress up that sissy cock of yours."
"Thank you," I replied, "it's just a little something." Looking
at this man, shorter than me but much more solid, his musculature
obvious under his blue St Louis Rams jersey. His dark skin looked
delicious, and his eyes were warm and smiling. He dropped a bag
on the floor just inside the doorway.
"Hope you're up for this. I've been looking forward to this for
quite a while now."
I nodded, intimidated by the reality of his presence, not to
mention his strength. It was clear I couldn't come close to
matching him physically. As scary as that was, It was also an
intense turn on. I looked away, glancing down at the floor to
break the sudden burst of apprehension I felt. It occurred to me
that I hadn't seen or heard from you yet. I motioned our guest
into the living room, and asked him if he wanted a drink.
"A beer would be great," he said. He ran his hand up my side,
and the sensation of his finger running up the pink mesh of my
outfit sent a thrill through me. He slid his fingers down, again
tracing my cock through the g-string, grinning as it responded.
"Good sissy cock. Nice and pretty and all dressed up for me."
He turned abruptly, walked over to the couch and sat. He gave me
a skeptical glance and said: "You're not alone, now, are you? We
had an agreement." I noted idly that he was a Marshall Faulk fan.
"No, sir," I responded. "She's upstairs, I think, getting
ready."
"Great. Get my beer, and get her."
I quickly got him a bottle of beer, and then went looking for
Ann. I found her upstairs, in our bedroom, sitting on the bed.
She was looking glassy eyed, her feet planted firmly on the floor
and her hands on her knees. "He's here," I told her softly.
"I know."
"Are you ready?"
"Yeah. Just let me have a minute."
"OK. I'll . . . we'll be down in the living room."
"OK." She took a deep breath and let it out explosively. "Just
let me pee. I'll be down."
"All right."
She stood up and went into the bathroom across the hall instead
of the one in our room. I figured that was a good sign. If she
wanted to hide, she'd have stayed in the bedroom. I went,
somewhat shakily I'll admit, back down to the living room. He
looked at me, and I told him Ann would be right down.
"Good. Be a good little sissy and get her a drink. Something
strong."
"Yes sir." I went and poured her a weekend coffee, which is
coffee with Irish cream whisky. I put in more whisky than she
usually did, though. I heard her coming down the stairs as I put
the whisky bottle back in the cabinet, and I was able to witness
how they looked when the saw each other. He was an image of
casual intensity, his football jersey and baggy denim shorts
reflecting the current fashion; his shoes were glistening white
and red patent leather athletic shoes.
Ann was an image of wanton sensuality in a deep red velvet
bustier and thong set. The velvet thong was on over her matching
red lace garter belt, which in turn was holding up red stockings.
Red patent leather knee-high boots with a stiletto heel completed
her ensemble. The heels added quite a bit to height, and since
she was already taller than my six-foot frame, she towered over
both of us. She looked incredibly sexy, her short dishwater-blond
hair framing her face but allowing a clear view of her long, sexy
neck. Her hazel eyes peered nervously though her glasses at him,
then glanced over to me.
I smiled, though I think my smile was as nervous as hers. I was
standing there, letting my eyes run over my wife. Ann was
gorgeous, and seeing her like this would have been an intense
turn on even if he hadn't been there, lounging on the couch like
he'd been here forever. We could probably have stood there
forever, in a frozen erotic tableau, man and wife and stranger
soaking in the sight of each other, but the moment was broken
when he patted on the couch, and, looking at Ann, said "Why don't
you have a seat, honey."
Ann nodded and sat, hesitantly, instinctively sitting at the
edge of the seat, and as far from him as she could.
He chuckled, then ordered me preemptively "Give her her drink."
I walked over to her and handed it to her. "Sit down, sissy, over
there." He pointed to the chest, and I walked over and sat down
on it. "Why don't you have some of that drink, then, girl?" he
asked Ann.
Ann nodded again, and sipped at her coffee.
"No, girl, a real drink. Finish that off, now, why don't you."
Ann drank quickly, stopping a couple times along the way for
small coughs as we watched her. He smiled and drank his beer,
letting his eyes run all over her. Given Ann's low tolerance for
alcohol, and that the dram I gave her wasn't exactly wee, it
wouldn't be long before she was a bit giddy.
He set his empty bottle down on the floor, keeping his gaze on
Ann, and said "Sissy, go get us each another one." I got up and
retrieved the mug and the bottle, and set about refreshing both.
I heard his voice, low, and indistinct, and I figured he was
engaging in small talk with my wife. It didn't take me long to
open a beer and pour a coffee, and I handed each their drink,
listening to him talk about football. They drank slowly, and
mostly silently, each of them glancing at each other and at me.
Eventually, Ann's coffee was empty again; though it seemed like
an eternity, it was probably only ten minutes or so.
Apparently he noticed that her coffee was gone just a moment or
two after I did, and he reached over and set his half-full beer
on the end table. He just happened to choose the table on Ann's
end of the couch; his body pressed into hers, and he let the
bottom of the bottle trace along her cleavage before he set it
down. "Don't worry honey, you'll have a great time," he told her,
smiling, then reached out and stroked her cheek. "Ready for a
kiss, honey?"
Ann sort of nodded, and he sat up, pressing his leg against
hers. He pulled her face down to his; even seated, the top of his
head was about even with her nose. He kissed her chastely at
first, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other
rested on the back of the couch. It was less than two minutes
before the quiet pressing of lips changed, his free hand sliding
down, caressing her side, then wrapping around her back and
pulling my wife tight into him. He got up onto his knees, which
gave him a height advantage, and started pressing my wife's
breasts through her bustier as he kissed her lips with increasing
ferocity. My wife's hand came up and started caressing his shaved
head, her fingertips running over his ear. Taking one of his
hands off her breast, he caressed her face, then took her other
hand and put it on his groin. They continued on, my wife
massaging this incredibly strong black man's cock through his
jeans shorts while he held her close to him and kissed her
fiercely. At some point, they started necking, their lips roving
over each other's neck, nibbling and biting and kissing.
I found myself drawn closer, not even aware that I had moved. I
watched, fascinated, as their hands started to roam. My wife hand
her hands inside his shirt, and he moaned as she pinched his
nipples. He had freed my wife's breasts from the bustier, the
cups pushed down, and he was sucking one teat and had his hand
pressed onto the outside of her panties. I think they had both
forgotten about me, but when his hand slipped inside the red
velvet that was covering my wife I moaned, loudly. His head
popped up, and his eyes widened as he saw me, kneeling next to
the couch, my fingers inside the g-string, wrapped around my
cock, erect as a skyscraper.
"Damn, sissy, I told you to sit. What the hell are you doing?"
I couldn't come up with a reply.
"Well, sissy, lets just fix it so this won't happen again." He
grabbed my hair and yanked me over to my erstwhile perch. He
draped me over it, and told me "You move again, you little bitch,
and I'll break your ass for it." He walked over to the bag he'd
dropped when he came inside, and tossed it over to where I was
crouched. He came back and took rope out of the bag, and tied me
tight to the bench, leaving one hand and arm free. Ann had a
flustered look on her face, incongruous with the flush of lust
that covered her face, neck and chest.
He went back over to Ann, and said to her "That's a stupid
sissy. He should have known better." He then kissed her again,
sliding one hand up and down her stocking. It wasn't long before
he'd traced the garter up to the bustier, and then up to her
breast. He tweaked her nipple, and then disentangled himself from
Ann's arms yet again to pull off his shirt.
His torso was luscious, lean muscles straining against deep
brown skin; his nipples were, as far as I could tell, perfectly
black. A fraternity logo had been branded onto the skin of his
left arm. He pulled Ann to him again, forcing her head down so
that she could suck on his nipple. I knew exactly what he was
feeling at that moment, having been the recipient of Ann's
ministrations like that many times.
I wasn't sure, but I thought Ann's hand was rubbing his cock
again as he ran his fingers through her hair, and caressed her
face and back, very tenderly, which surprised me for some reason.
He let Ann move lower, and he reached down and opened his shorts,
which fell to the floor instantly. My wife slid down from the
couch and knelt on the floor; I could see that he was wearing
boxers, and I could see Ann find his manhood, though my view was
partly obscured. Ann apparently pulled his balls out through his
fly, because suddenly his chocolate cock rose over her face,
which she had turned parallel to the floor. He was bigger than my
six inches, though not by that much; perhaps and inch or so
longer, and a bit thinner. I wanted to suck that cock as soon as
I saw it.
Ann, though, had that honor, and she took full advantage of it.
He sat back on the deep, soft cushions and splayed his legs as my
wife started her cock worship. I watched from my bondage behind
her, and to her right, his left. The contrast of their skin
colors was an extraordinary sight as she knelt between his legs,
her pale Scandinavian skin looking to be an almost pure white
against his deep coffee-tone. The intense red of her lingerie set
off both perfectly; this was an erotic sight worthy of the
greatest of the Dutch Masters' talents.
His face was a study of ecstasy as she worked his cock with her
lips and tongue. He alternately relaxed and stiffened as she
pleasured him, moaning occasionally, usually when she changed
technique. It was quite a while that he half-sat, half lay in the
couch with my beloved wife servicing him, lost in the sublime
sensations she provided. Eventually, though, he decided he wanted
another sort of pleasure.
"Stand up, girl." My wife of a decade and more obeyed, looking
up at him with her hand still holding his cock; a sight I knew
well from his perspective. She stood, close to him, her toes
under the edge of the couch. His hand came up, tracing the inside
of her thigh, then rubbing against her pussy. I could see the
tips of his fingers as they came through between her legs as he
turned his hand up and squeezed her ass. "Step back, and take off
those panties, girl. I want to see my cock's next home."
Moving back towards me, Ann moved so that I got a clear look at
his body, including his very hard cock for the first time. He was
beautiful. I could feel my cock rise as I thought about the feel
of his dick against my lips and tongue. I noticed Ann bending
over out of the corner of my eye, and I looked over to see her
pull her boots out of her panties.
"Mmmm, that's nice, girl. It must be wasted on that sissy." He
stood up. "But maybe not. Maybe our little bitch has a taste for
pussy, too." He bent over and picked up my wife's panties and
sniffed them. "Hey, sissy boy. Your wife is hot. She's got all
wet from sucking me off. Why don't you have a taste?" He stuffed
my wife's panties into my mouth, and reached into his bag and
pulled out a belt he then wrapped around my head, holding my
wife's wet panties tight, and making an effective gag. "See how
wet she is? Here, feel for yourself."
He pulled Ann over to me and made her kneel in front of me, and
then took my free hand and slid it up her leg. I quickly groped
for her pussy, which was definitely well lubricated. My cock
shuddered as I felt her wetness, and I let out a muffled moan at
the same time she gasped as my thumb found her clit. He let me
play with my wife for a while; he eventually took off the
improvised gag and moved her so that her clit was right in front
of my lips. My neck started to ache as I bent my head back to
obey his unspoken command and licked my wife's clitoris. He again
took my free hand, but his time he placed it on his dick.
"Stroke me, sissy. Get this cock ready for your wife. She needs
a real man's cock, not some dressed-up sissy thing. Get this
hard."
I could feel them moving, and I think that they were kissing
again, but all I could see was my wife's dark-honey brown pubic
hair. My hand was wrapped around his cock, and it was strange. I
was used to having my tongue on my wife's vulva, and my hand
around my own cock, but this was new. It was soft, and firm, and
warm; but there was no echoing sensation from beneath my fingers,
so it was different from when I stroked myself. The feel of the
foreskin sliding over the hard shaft was, as was every sensation
except the pain in my neck, intensely erotic.
Once my wife's hips started to rock, moving her clit in and out
of reach, he pulled back from me, and pulled her back as well.
"We're gonna do this so that you can see her face while I fuck
her. You're gonna see how she likes a real man's cock in her." He
put her on her hands and knees, facing me. He tossed a cushion
from the couch onto the floor and knelt on that between her legs.
He put his hands on her shoulders and said "Look at him in the
eye girl. Let him see it on your face when I get my dick inside
you."
And I could. I could tell the exact instant his cock pressed
against her lips, I could tell exactly how good it felt as he
slid inside her, and I could tell exactly when he had buried
himself to the hilt, his abdomen against my wife's ass, pressing
into her. I could see her lean forward from his push against her.
I could see how much my wife enjoyed the sensation in her eyes;
she was lost to pleasure. He rocked her back and forth, his hands
sliding down her back and coming to rest on her hips, and he
pounded into her, and I could see the ecstasy on her face.
It wasn't very long before he stopped, maybe two minutes or so.
He pulled out of her, both of them moaning as he did. He pushed
the couch cushion back, and pulled my wife up off her hands. He
pulled her into him, his hands roaming, squeezing her breast,
dipping into her pussy, pinching her nipple. I think, but I'm not
sure, that he put his dick back inside her, but what his hands
were doing could explain the looks on her face. At some point, he
turned her around so that her back was to me and then lay down,
his head resting on the couch cushion. He didn't even have to
gesture; my wife straddled him, and I could see her guide his
cock back inside her.
I don't know how long they fucked like that. I could see her
rise up and down on his meat, the edge of her pussy alternately
pulled out as she rose and rolled in as she slid back down. The
contrast of their skin tones struck me again, her paleness
suggesting a vulnerability that was at striking odds with the
wanton abandon with which she was screwing this black stranger.
They fucked each other for about half an hour after that;
alternating positions from time to time. They fucked on the
couch, him again under her, sitting up facing each other again,
and I could see him suckle her breasts. Then he turned her
around, and I watched, my neck cramping, as he fucked her and
played with those tits I had kissed so many times. He lay her
face down on the couch, and he lay on her and entered from
behind. They kept fucking for a few minutes, turning, kissing and
groping and fondling. She wasn't just letting him nail her; she
was moving with him, giving into the pleasure and the passion. My
cock was throbbing, my balls aching as they moved to the floor
again.
I knew that they would be done soon when he put my wife on her
back and had her spread her legs. Ann's favorite position is the
standard missionary, and she orgasms most easily in that
position. As they went at it, I could see her face as he nuzzled
her neck. It wasn't more than a minute or two before he started
to gasp, and she followed quickly. My wife has quiet orgasms, and
this was no exception. It's a bit hard to tell when she comes,
but it was very obvious when he did; a loud "Oh god!" followed by
a long moan announced it clearly. He lay there for a moment or
two, then slid off to Ann's side. He held her close to him, his
immense arms wrapping around her, one under her shoulders, and
the other just under her breasts. He lay his head on her shoulder
and started kissing her, gently, tenderly, like I had so many
times. They lay there for quite a while, mostly silent, more or
less motionless.
Eventually, after about twenty or thirty minutes, he stood up.
Grabbing his beer, he said "Damn girl, you sure can fuck. Wish
I`d met you a long time ago. Only problem now is I got a sticky
dick. Can't have a sticky dick. Good thing we got us this sissy
here to clean it."
He came over to me and pulled my head up to his dick. It had
been a long time since I'd last sucked cock, but it came back to
me. I used my free hand to hold his cock, and went after it as
best I could. He slid his slowly stiffening cock into my mouth,
and I could feel it swell up as he rocked his body so that it
slid in and out over my tongue. I could taste his semen and my
wife's juices, and the sticky pubic hair carried the smell of
both. I was heavenly.
It was a couple minutes before it was up to its full length, and
once he was I would gag a bit, but I could deep throat him
without too much trouble, my tongue on the underside of his shaft
keeping it off my teeth. I knew that he was about to come by the
pulsing in his cock that I could feel with my lips and on my
tongue. He pulled almost all the way out of my mouth, and let
loose with the same "Oh god!" and moan that announced his climax
inside my wife. His semen was hot and salty and slippery and was
divine. He didn't spurt much, but he jerked out of my mouth with
the second spurt and it dribbled onto my cheek and dripped down
to my shoulder. I was a bit dazed, and I realized that he was
untying me about halfway through the process. When he was done,
he pulled me up by my hair and half dragged me over to where my
wife was still laying, though she had sat up to watch my oral
performance. He pushed my face into her pussy.
"Clean her out, bitch-boy. Get her off. And when you are done,
lick that mess off the carpet."
So I started cleaning out my wife, licking and sucking, tasting
the semen that black lover had left inside my wife's most
intimate places. I had made some progress, getting her hips
rolling, when I realized he was playing with my wife's nipples
and kissing her neck. She came again fairly quickly, which is
unusual for her. As she was recovering, he said to me "You've
been a fairly good sissy bitch. I guess it's your turn.
He pulled my up by my hair and stood behind me. He pulled down
the translucent g-string, letting it slide down my stocking
covered legs. Next he bent me over, and I heard him rustling
though his bag. I felt his finger against my asshole; I gasped as
it entered. It had to be a finger because it was too small to be
his penis. He got it all the way in, then pulled my back upright.
"Come here, girl," he said to Ann. Ann stood up, still a bit
flushed from coming a second time. "Pinch his nipples, girl." To
me, he said "OK, sissy boy, you get yours now. Stroke that cock."
So I did. It didn't take me long to explode, given what I had
seen earlier, not to mention the black man's finger in my ass
rubbing my prostrate and my wife's fingers and tongue and teeth
on my nipples, and when I did, it was an intense eruption. My
jizz didn't dribble out as it usually does; it literally
squirted, hitting my wife's hip where she stood in front of me,
staining her garter-belt, hitting her red stocking with the
second spurt and leaving yet more come on the floor. I sagged
back into him, and his strong arm easily bore my weight, the
finger in my ass pressing deeper as my legs buckled.
He gently set me on the edge of the couch and pulled his finger
out. He asked Ann for directions to the bathroom, and left the
room after her reply. I slid to the floor, dazed by the course of
events. Ann sank down beside me, and I put my arm around her and
held her close.
He came back, the sound of the flush echoing, and wordlessly
dressed. Picking up his bag he said to us both "This was
incredible. See you again, if you want."
We were quiet for a long time after he left.
<1st attachment end>
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