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"Dirty Pictures"
  by A. G. Thomas     


For the past thirty-some minutes Reverend Thomas Peterson had
been looking in astonishment at the latest packet of pictures of
his wife with someone else. But unlike the ones earlier where she
had been on a filthy mattress in what appeared to be a skid row
bar surrounded by a group of seven black men, this setting was
different. A living room, looking very much like his own and this
time only two Negroes were with her.

His cock was so hard it hurt and he was unable to stop the
feelings of arousal that these pictures, just as the ones before
had awakened in him, after all, Preacher or not, he was a man.
Pushing himself from his desk slightly he unzipped his pants and
a second later had his cock in his hand and was slowly massaging
up and down it's skinny four inch length. As Reverend Peterson's
hand came up and rolled over the knob of his dick, his eyes
glanced over the group of six photos laid out before him. In each
photo there were two men either singularly or together with his
wife, but the three he found most arousing were almost identical.
In those it showed his wife kneeling on a couch between the two
men. In the first photo an almost coal-black Negro whose cock was
almost twice again as big as his own, both in length and
circumference, had pushed about four inches of his dark
instrument of virility between her lips. Behind her small
kneeling form, what looked every bit like a 250 pound linebacker
with skin the color of hot cocoa and a cock as equally large or
perhaps larger than the other Negro had pushed maybe five or six
inches into her sphincter.

In the second photo the man behind her was holding her small
wrist in one huge hand forcefully pulling her arms behind her,
while the fingers of his other hand were twisted in her shoulder
length reddish blonde hair much the same way a cowboy's might be
when holding onto the mane of a horse to keep from being bucked
off. This duel action not only forced her head up but also caused
her back to arch just enough so that her breast, which had been
mashed into the top of the couch in the previous photo, now hung
above it leaving her sensitive nipples to just barely graze the
top of the overstuffed cushion. There were signs of stress to her
neck and shoulders from the strain applied but it seemed to him
the purpose was not to harm her but to allow the deepest
penetration possible. The goal of which had been achieved for not
only were his wife's pretty lips around the base of the coal
black cock but her nose was pressed into his kinky pubic hair,
while behind her it looked as if a piece of paper wouldn't have
gone between his wife's buttocks and the man's groin, leaving
little doubt that every inch of his dark instrument was embedded
deep in her rectum. Faster the Reverend's hand moved as he looked
closely at his wife's pretty face, finding it astonishing that
she had swallowed all eight plus inches.

The third and last picture was almost identical to the other two
except the angle had changed slightly and where before the two
dark cocks fucking her were deeply embedded they were now plainly
and in all their glory visible. The large cock glistening with
her salvia had been withdrawn from her mouth and was inches from
her parted lips and there were strings of cum joining them
together while in and around her opened mouth and across her
cheek as well as down her chin were thick globs of spunk. Behind
her the top of her buttocks and the small of her back were
smeared with a vast amount of cum, while the cock which had been
reaming her ass hole was resting on the small of her back and had
a thick globular string streaming from it's oversize head joining
her naked white flesh to that of its midnight blackness. His
shoulders, then his whole body shuddered and as his eyes closed a
guttural groan escaped from his labored lungs as he ejaculated,
most of which stained his hand while a weak small squirt landed
on his pants.

Moments later, as his body quit shuddering, he opened his eyes to
look again at the picture and then down at his deflated cock and
the thin almost watery spunk staining his hand and he wished that
his cock was more like the one his wife had been sucking, both in
size and in the amount and thickness of cum it had produced.
Taking several Kleenex, he wiped his hand as well as his cock of
all traces of ejaculation and then he put his cock back in his
pants before opening a drawer and depositing the pictures with
the other thirty or so he had received over the last three weeks.
What in heavens name was wrong with him? He should be destroying
these pictures; not saving them. Of course if he were any type of
a man he would have confronted Angelia weeks ago when he'd
received the first set of pictures, well maybe the second set
because the first had only been of her fully clothed.

The skirt worn in the photos was much shorter then she normally
wore and in one photo where she was exiting her car the skirt had
ridden so high it was plain to see she wasn't wearing panties.
Without thinking who might have taken them or when, he had simply
thought that she had sent them as a way to excite him because
over the last year he hadn't really been paying very much
attention to her sexually. But then in the weeks that had
followed packets with anywhere from four to six photos inside
would suddenly and mysteriously appear on his desk twice a week.
Always different, always very explicit and each set seemingly
trying to outdo the ones previous. Now with this latest
assortment, the collection totaled close to fifty pictures and he
couldn't help but wonder if there were still others as well as
why was she doing such nasty things with other men, and Negro's
at that. But then mixed with his astonishment at the sexual
depravity the pictures depicted a measure of disappointment
overcame him with the thought that these might be the last and he
silently prayed it wasn't so, that he would indeed receive still
others. At the same time it dawned on him to ask himself a couple
of very important questions. If they were the last he received,
who in heavens name had taken them or why, and what could the
person possibly want or hope to gain? As he pondered these things
he thought back on the four years he and Angelia had been
married, a marriage that until he'd started getting the pictures
he'd thought of as satisfying and good.

She had barely gotten out of her teens when they had married and
she was naive and unfamiliar with what was expected of her, but
she had grown quickly into the role of the perfect Preacher's
wife. She'd been a virgin when they had married so he'd gone
slow, knowing that sex was new and strange to her and not wanting
to frighten or make her think he was some kind of sex fiend, he
had limited sex to just two times a week. A schedule he had stuck
with up until this last year, when for some reason he couldn't
recall, he'd let his husbandry duties slide to maybe twice every
two or three weeks.

As he went to close the drawer his eye caught one of the first
pictures he'd received. It was the one where as she sat astride
one Negro as another had taken her from behind, while yet a third
had used her mouth. Picking the picture up a thought raced
through his mind that this was one of his favorites as he noticed
again that beside the depraved happenings on the filthy mattress
four other naked blacks grinning like sex fiends stood in close
proximity to the simultaneous fucking of his wife, each holding
his shiny cock as if eagerly awaiting his turn to use her. In
this picture as well as a lot of the others that had followed the
only things she wore were her glasses and her crucifix, but what
was especially noteworthy and highly stimulating about this
picture, beside the fact that she was being fucked by three
Negro's at the same time, was the amount of cum on her.

In addition to the slug-like trails of spunk that could be seen
on her upper chest and across her cute little breasts, several
streaks of cum had left a shimmering slimy trail across her face
while her glasses, cocked almost comically off center, had
several globs smearing the lenses. The picture was a good
indication that these three had not been the first, in fact it
left little doubt, at least in his mind, that she had more then
likely been fucked by all seven of them already and that what was
happening in the picture was the beginning of possibly the second
but more then likely the third time they had used her. Putting
the snap shot into his jacket pocket he closed the drawer and
stood up thinking that today he would finally confront her and
then he walked from the rectory.

Arriving at his home, which was supplied by the church and his
parishioners, he noticed that like so many times before it was
dark, indicating that his wife had not yet returned from her
shopping, so without turning on any lights he made his way to the
living room where he poured himself a drink. As first one and
then another and yet a third whisky sour slipped down his throat
and into his empty stomach the reasons for his wife's absences
were abundantly clear, absences of which he had until this very
moment given little thought, but he could no longer deny it. The
pictures he possessed were proof. For the last month, and with
each new packet of photos, he had refused to accept what was
staring him in the face, but that was the denial of a man who
refused to come to grips with reality. Now his anger and
frustration had finally reached a point where he must do
something or relinquish his right to call himself a man. But
what?

Pictures of his beautiful wife floated up clouding his vision and
without realizing what he was doing his hand went to his zipper
and a moment later he had freed his cock and had began spanking
the monkey again. How could he hope to compete with men whose
dicks were not only so much bigger than his but also giving his
wife so much pleasure, which, from the expression on her face in
the pictures it was evident. He laughed almost maniacally as he
pulled the picture from his pocket and stared fixedly at it until
his arm grew tired and his dick felt like raw meat and then with
a growl of frustration he admitted he couldn't. It would have
been bad enough if she were having an affair with one man and
sneaking away maybe once or twice a month, but her lovers
numbered in the teens. But those he only knew about because of
the pictures. How many others did she have that he wasn't aware
of? Standing up he poured himself another whiskey, as with mind
clouded with drink tried to reason why she had taken so many
lovers. He had to call them lovers for from the dreamy look on
her face and from the uninhibited way in which she was letting
each of them use her. He couldn't say she was being forced to
perform such sordid acts. A slut, that's what she was, a common
slut, a tramp, why else would she willingly let those men use
her? Oh God why? Her shameful actions would have been bad enough
with just one Negro, but to perform such wanton acts with several
of them and most of the time simultaneously while being
photographed was beyond his understanding.

With his cock now soft and just barely drooping from his opened
zipper he staggered through the house cursing and blaming God for
his whore of a wife before collapsing unconscious beside the fire
place. As he slowly slipped into oblivion he was not aware that
an hour or so earlier as he'd sat in his rectory looking at the
latest set of photos his petite wife was being introduced to her
latest group of lovers. A meeting which, as usual, had been
arranged by her lover and master Warren, a man who while her
husband Reverend Peterson was visiting a sick parishioner had
informed her as to what he expected. Boldly and only minutes
after the Reverend had left for his visit Warren had appeared at
her door and had only minutes after entering the living room
ordered her to her knees. Without drawing the blinds or in any
way trying to prevent an unexpected visitor from witnessing her
servitude she had did as instructed, where after loosening his
pants and pulling them from his hips had with her small hands and
soft lips brought his eight plus inches to hardness. Without
being told and because she knew what he as well as all her other
Negro lovers expected and took great relish in seeing her do, she
raised her eyes to look into his face as expertly and after
teasingly flicking her tongue over the fat knob of his dark cock
her lips began their torturously slow travel down the length of
his ebony instrument to it's hairy base. With her eyes still
staring into his her left hand rested on his hip as her right
slide over his testicle sack and between his legs until her small
slim fingers slipped between his ass cheeks and into his butt
crack. Yes she had learned well, and like so many times before
and as with so many of her Negro lovers her heart swelled with
pride when he smiled down at her as two of her fingers pushed
into his butt hole causing his pelvis to jerk forward sending the
last couple of inches of his black cock between her soft lips and
into her throat. It was now her turn, and as her head began to
slowly bob back and forth leaving a shimmering trail of her
saliva over his dark cock each time it partially withdrew from
her lips.

He talked softly, informing her of the address she was expected
at, along with instructions to be wearing the special dress that
would be arriving by messenger within the hour. Faster her head
moved when told of the location, but when he described her
special dress and that she would be entertaining no less then a
dozen Negro's she almost swooned. She quickly recovered though as
with butt cheeks quivering and a final almost desperate lunge of
his pelvis Warren's cock jerked about like an unmanned fire hose
flooding her mouth and throat with his thick salty cum. Also
unknown to the good Reverend was the fact that this or something
very close to it had happened several other times since her
initial meeting with Warren, a meeting that had very cleverly
taken place in a public restaurant.

It had all started weeks earlier when one Tuesday night after
Angelia's bible study class Warren had hesitantly approached her
seeking advice. They had talked but still when they had parted he
had seemed depressed, so when a week later and after having
talked to her husband without mentioning Warren's name she had
been disappointed when the young man hadn't shown up for class.
She had been bursting with advice from her husband as well as a
desperate need to relay it, so when he hadn't come to class she
had called him, sure in the feeling that with one more session
she could and would make him feel better. He hadn't wanted to
talk, but when she persisted his voice though soft had sounded
choked almost as if he were crying and her heart had gone out to
the boy. Cleverly he had gotten her to agree to a Thursday night
meeting under the pretense of counseling him about his supposed
family problems but she had been slightly hesitant about the
location he proposed, offering instead her home. But he had been
been insistent saying that if they met in public tongues wouldn't
wag, besides they did need to eat so with the time of 7:30 agreed
upon they'd hung up. Of course just the opposite is true,
tongue's and rumors fly when a white women is seen in public with
a black man, especially in the south when the meeting occurs in a
section of town not often frequented by whites. But the Reverend
and Angelia knew nothing of this because they were from Michigan,
but Warren did, and to heighten the impression that Angelia was
his women he laughed and joked all during the dinner brushing
aside any attempts Angelia made to focus on what she perceived to
be his problem. When it became apparent he wouldn't talk about
his problem and it seemed he would never stop joking she had
excused herself saying she needed to call her husband, but the
phone was out of order. She was not aware that when she left the
table Warren had spiked her glass of wine, so when after
returning to the table and as he loudly thanked her for the
pleasant evening she hurriedly drank her wine without noticing
that her glass which had been almost empty was now full. As she
had stood to exit the restaurant a feeling of vertigo washed over
her and after staggering into a couple of patrons, where amid
looks of amusement from the blacks along with disgust from the
few whites present she had in a desperate attempt to maintain her
balance reached out to a smiling Warren falling into his arms.

Blankness, a dream like vague remembrance of arms about her,
lips, a warm glowing feeling mixed with distant muffled voices
both questioning and praising and throughout it all shadowy
apparitions groping and pulling at her. At times the dark shadowy
figures around her almost took form as the tremendous heat
emitting from her began to dissipate the haziness in which she
felt herself floating, but then just as she began to perceive her
surroundings, to distinguish form and mass she became like a
tuning fork where along with a feeling of utter bliss the
shimmering haze again engulfed her. Nothing, no sound no feeling,
nothing, until with the sun shining in her eyes she awoke with a
bad taste in her mouth along with a numbness in her pelvis region
and a burning sensation around her ass hole. A feeling of
tightness along her inner thighs but also stickiness as timidly
and as if afraid of what she'd find her hand slipped under her
bed clothes. Shame washed over her as the certainty of what had
transpired burst upon her and as she rushed to the bathroom to
scrub the filthiness from her body she was never the less
astonished at the amount of residue she perceived as having been
deposited on her by Warren. Her whole body, every pore seemed to
be inundated with cum, it was even in her hair and it wasn't
until the fourth washing along with several douches that she
began to feel somewhat better. But guilt and disgust still
weighed heavily upon her because no matter how many times she
brushed her teeth or used mouth wash she still had that taste in
her mouth. Had she felt so sorry for the boy that she had seduced
him, forsaking her vows of marriage and the love of her husband
for an hour or so of what, passion, and how was it that her
husband who had been laying beside her when she awoke hadn't been
aware of her condition. As for the first part of her query she
wished with all her heart she could remember, to understand if it
were she that had seduced him or if, and heaven forbid he had
raped her.

Oh sweet Jesus if only she could remember, but it was as if a
thick smothering fog had enveloped her brain making everything
surreal. Whatever the reason for her shameful predicament,
whether she had, as she suspected, seduced the young Negro, or
whether he had raped her, and of that she was strongly in doubt
because other then what appeared to be a hickey on her right
breast along with another on her inner thigh she had no marks, no
bruises, nothing.  As to the second part of her query about not
being discovered the answer was simple, her husband as of late
paid little attention to her sexually, but whether it was that or
if she was just plain lucky she couldn't tell her husband that
she had committed adultery he would never understand, and then
she laughed maniacally because she herself didn't understand.

Though she had never really thought about it, she was sure that
if for some unforeseen reason she were going to break her holy
vows of marriage, the last person in the world she would even
consider having intercourse with would be a Negro, but that's
exactly what she'd done. After almost a week of being on pins and
needles, along with being afraid to even look at her husband for
fear he might be able to read her thoughts, the confrontation she
knew was inevitable suddenly and without warning burst over her.
But she wasn't prepared for when and how Warren approached her
and she almost fainted when he suddenly materialized beside her
while she was grocery shopping. The pressing of his body against
hers as she'd straightened up after reaching for a can of sauce,
along with his hot breath against her ear as he whispered he had
a present for her, almost took her breath away and then he was
gone, but not before pressing something into her hand.

It was a picture, a photo of her with blouse opened and spread to
either side of her with her skirt about her waist while above her
and with her legs entwined about him lay a naked black man, a
black man she had no recollection of ever meeting. Slumping
against her nearly full shopping cart she almost dropped the
photo and then she noticed something written on the back. On legs
feeling as if they were made of lead and without going through
the checkout she walked to her car and then, as per the
instructions on the back of the photo, waited for his arrival.
For what seemed like an hour, but in reality was more like ten
minutes, she sat wondering what Warren wanted and then suddenly
her door opened and she was pulled from the car and into the arms
of her tormentor. His lips mashed against hers and because of the
suddenness and boldness of the act as well as the photo she still
clutched in her hand she offered no resistance. Even the thought
that someone might see, might even recognize her being kissed by
a black man was strangely absent from her mind as his tongue
slipped between her lips. Releasing her he turned her to face the
car where while pinning her against it he nuzzled her neck and
ground his pelvis against her pert little butt telling her he'd
really enjoyed the show she'd put on the other night. After
telling her to get back into the car he then slid in behind the
wheel where, for the next half hour and along with a very
descriptive dialog of her exploits, he took great pleasure in her
discomfort.

In disbelief she looked at picture after picture showing her
having sex with a multitude of black men, not in the pleasurable
setting of a warm cozy bedroom but on a filthy mattress in what
appeared to be a bar. Each picture was different but every one of
them showed her taking a hard black organ in either her mouth,
pussy or ass hole. But the ones that held her eye the longest,
the ones she found almost too incredible to believe, were the
ones showing her having sex with two and even three of the men
simultaneously. With tears in her eyes and with a voice cracking
and choked by sobbing she pleaded ignorance of the event saying
that the evening had been a blur. But Warren, with an arm about
her shoulders and the other occupied with undoing the buttons of
her blouse paid little attention, instead he continued his story,
his rather vivid and detailed story. The jest of which was that
after leaving the restaurant she had demanded to go to a bar
where along with having a few more drinks she began dancing and
openly flirting with several men.

With mirth in his eyes he told how the men began groping and
feeling of her body while she in return passionately kissed
whichever one was fondling her. Smiling, he told how as she'd sat
in a booth surrounded by the men and she'd let them open her
blouse and then as two of them had taken turns kissing her she
had let others push her skirt about her waist and soon her
panties as well as her bra disappeared into someone's pocket, but
still she refused to leave with any of them when the offer to
take her back to their crib came up. After a while though the men
grew tired of her teasing and several of them had told her if she
wasn't going to give up some of that fine white pussy to get the
fuck out of their bar.

Listening to his narration of that nights events she learned how
within minutes of the ultimatum she with a confused look had
turned to him the only one she really knew saying that she'd
never made love to anyone but her husband, besides she'd heard
stories that black men's things were as long as an arm and if
true would split her in two. He told how when the men had heard
her excuse they had pulled out their dicks waving them at her
while laughingly telling her that a sexy cunt like her shouldn't
have any trouble taking their dicks. Mesmerized she had looked
from their dicks into their eyes and then back at their dicks
before slowly reaching out and clasping the two closest ones in
her small white hands. Minutes later she slid to her knees
kissing first one and then the other and even though she didn't
take them all the way into her mouth she did make them cum.

After that things happened fast and soon she was naked except for
her glasses and the cross about her neck and she was on a
mattress in the rear of the bar taking one cock after the other.
Like a cock crazed whore she had screamed for them to fuck her
and soon all seven of the men were around and atop her shoving
their various sized black cocks into her every hole, not once but
several times and there Warren's narration ended. For a moment
she sat in silence and denial with her chin against her bare
chest, her mind in turmoil as she looked at his dark hand upon
her bare breast. She had known that as he was telling his story
he was removing her blouse and bra and now with his fingers
pulling and stretching her nipples she didn't need to hear his
threat of exposure to know what he wanted and what was expected
of her.

Angelia, with a tortured look in her eyes, stared into Warren's
smiling face as with a small squeaking voice said it was all a
mistake, that she was a good girl, the wife of a Preacher and
would never do what he said she did. Laughing he told her she was
like all the rest, doing whatever she wanted as long as she
thought she could get away with it, but this time she'd been
caught and whether she wanted to blame her actions on drinking or
whatever it was time to pay the piper. Tightening his fingers
over her right nipple he squeezed as with a smirking voice he
said she was just a horny slut that had just been looking for
some excuse to let herself go and then his hand touched the back
of her head telling her to get busy.

With her memory clouded with only snatches of ghost like shadows
whispering to her along with a sensation of rapturous bliss she
was at a lose to understand what had really happened. If only she
could remember, but she couldn't, and what about the pictures?
Would anyone believe they were doctored, that he'd had her face
airbrushed in, she doubted it. So along with his vivid narration
of that nights events and her inability to refute the
authenticity of the pictures she was left with no choice and her
fingers loosened his pants after which with a slight lifting of
his buttocks from the seat on his part she pulled his pants from
his hips exposing his genitalia. With the instinct of survival
upper most in her mind along with not wanting to shame her
husband or to have his congregation learn what she'd done, she
willingly slipped under his control. Without resistance to the
hand lightly resting on the back of her head she moved downward
as his whispered voice commanded her to suck his nigger cock.

Seeing no other option and having little choice her mouth opened
and with less then two inches separating his cock from her
puckered lips her nose wrinkled as his musky odor wafted up, and
there in the front seat of her car in a public parking lot her
acceptance of his cock between her lips signaled her surrender to
what ever he might demand of her both now and in the future. Her
fervent hope that he would be satisfied with using her maybe once
every week or so was a forlorn one, and so too was the hope that
only he would use her, but in both cases she was sadly mistaken.
Before the month was out she was entertaining not only him but
quite a few of his friends as well, and not just once every week
or so but several times a week, and to compound her shame he
continued to take pictures. Despite his assurances that the
pictures were only for his use, as a means to keep her in line
she sensed differently though she couldn't prove anything, and as
far as his friends, well nobody had that many and she strongly
suspected he was pimping her, but again she really couldn't prove
anything.

She was right on both counts of course, but as to the extent of
his manipulation of her she had no idea, but even if she had,
could or would she have done anything differently? Point of fact
and unknown to her, because his picture collection was becoming
so huge and because he thought that people would pay to see her
shameless display he'd had a friend build a web site where for a
nominal membership fee a person could view, or download as many
pictures of her as one wished. Of course if you didn't have a
printer or you just wished to have a better copy, you could
purchase as many prints as you wanted for only a couple of bucks
apiece.

Warren was rather proud of himself, he had but with the one time
use of a couple of drops of the date drug Rybonial loosened
Angelia's inhibitions. A drink or two, the company of several
men, some off color suggestive remarks along with the groping of
her body while they danced with her, and finally the exposure of
a multitude of men's cocks had made it very easy for him to turn
the petite Preacher's wife into his personal money maker. A slut
that three times a week for the last five weeks he'd sold to
perhaps three or four dozen brothers as well as taken at least
five hundred pictures of. Yes, Warren was very proud of himself
because he'd accomplished it all simply by showing her the
pictures he'd taken that night, he hadn't threatened her, simply
hinted at the possibility of exposure while letting her fears and
vivid imagination do the rest. His original reason, believe it or
not, had been because he was sexually attracted to her, her
petite body and gracefulness had made her irresistible and when
his plan had worked even better then he'd expected, the prospect
that he'd be able to shove his eight inch black cock into her
slim white body whenever he wanted was just too damn good to pass
up.

The money hadn't come until after several of his friends became
aware he was porking her and it was then that he'd decided to
pimp her. The money was good, his customers hadn't minded that he
took pictures, in fact he'd sold several of the pictures back to
them and then one of them had suggested he post the photos on the
Internet. It had snowballed from there and now where he got most
of his money was from a web site that a friend had helped him set
up, a site simply called "The Preacher's Wife." So besides the
money he was making from selling her petite curvaceous body he
was making money hand over fist off the Internet. Someone
visiting the web site would first see a smiling conservatively
dressed pretty strawberry blonde, all prim and proper, standing
before a church with bible in hand along with a bio assuring the
visitor that she was indeed the wife of a Preacher and though
they were originally from the north they were now living in a
southern city with a large Negro population. Her husband the
Minister of a Southern Baptist congregation of perhaps five
hundred souls was aware of her efforts to spread joy to others
less fortunate, showing them by action and deed that they were
loved.

A click of the button brought up her vital stats, saying she was
a mere five foot three inches tall and one hundred and four
pounds, with petite but firm measurements of 34 x 21 x 33 along
with two teaser photos. Both photo's showed her still wearing her
glasses, as well as the silver crucifix about her neck, but
unlike the one viewed when you first logged onto the site these
were very explicit along with a statement saying that for just
$21.95 for a one month or $64.95 for a three month membership fee
you would get to see the Preacher's wife visiting and
administrating in her own personal way to the poor and
unfortunate blacks from the slums and ghettos of a large
metropolitan southern city. The first was a school room setting
where at first glance she was dressed somewhat matronly as she
sat behind her desk, but there the similarity ended for in place
of a prim and proper school teacher a vixen was portrayed. Her
white long sleeve blouse was all but undone and even if one of
her breasts hadn't been prominently displayed, one would have had
to of been blind to of not seen that the Preacher's Wife/School
Teacher was without a bra. Her skirt, though almost knee length,
was also not quite matronly for up the left side was a slit
reaching almost hip high. Because of the way she was turned in
the chair the skirt had parted showing her upper thighs as well
as her crotch. Again there was no indication of an undergarment
and if one looked close the barest wisp of reddish hair
surrounding her pussy was visible. In front of the desk and in
various stages of undress stood three grinning youths. From the
remaining clothes on their persons it was plain to see that they
were gang members, what today most people commonly refereed to as
gang bangers. Beside her, his pants around his ankles and with
almost the whole length of his cock between her ruby red lips
stood a fourth youth, and from the way her tiny fingers were
clinching the gang bangers buttocks it was clear that the "School
Teacher" wasn't satisfied with almost. Beneath the photo was the
comment that being a gang banger had it's rewards but that one
would hope that her other students also received such personal
attention while in school.

The second was a bedroom scene and she was wearing a translucent
full length negligee that, even if it hadn't been opened and
falling from her shoulders, was so sheer that there would have
been no doubt that beneath it she was naked. Sitting the way she
was, propped against the headboard with a pillow behind her for
comfort while, without looking as if she had been posed, her
upper body was partially turned in keeping to the way her left
leg hung over the edge of the mattress while her right leg bent
at the knee was before her. Beside the bed and directly in front
of her was a naked, rather robust and very dark bald-headed older
Negro. Her left hand cradled his grotesquely large testicle sack
while her lips, again painted a vibrant red, were clasped around
the fat knob of his dick. The middle fingers of her right hand,
because of the way the sheer material of the gown lay could be
clearly seen inserted in her cunt, while beneath the photo was a
promise that if a membership were bought one would not only see
the Preacher's wife take his fat twelve plus inch dick in her
tight little snatch but down her throat and up her ass as well.

The teaser photos changed about every two weeks, sometimes she
was a secretary, at other times a boy scout troop leader, or yet
again, a nurse or a soldier, but always the teasers were very
explicit and always promising that membership entitled the viewer
to see her further efforts of administrating to the African
American. From the volume of hits and the membership growth to
Angelia's web site it seemed as if blacks, but more than likely
white folks just couldn't get enough of seeing the pretty
strawberry blonde getting her brains fucked out by some soul
brother or another. Members weren't disappointed and renewals
were strong for once inside they could thumb through, download,
or even buy a myriad of pictures showing Angelia dressed,
partially dressed or totally nude being fucked in settings as
varied as a run down ghetto bar or a stylish home setting, from a
secretarial office pool to a burned out tenement building. But
the ones most often sought after and downloaded were the ones
where she was being fucked by up to three black studs
simultaneously, each sporting cock's that looked, at least size
wise, like 16 ounce coke bottles.

There was no doubt in Warren's mind that the once timid wife of a
Preacher had become a true black cock slut that, at times, if he
hadn't limited the brothers fucking her would have fucked herself
into an asylum. Angelia was completely under his control and with
that thought in mind and knowing that the Preacher's wife turned
slut would do whatever he asked of her, his thinking as of late
was that since he already had her role playing different
scenarios why not video tape the action instead of just taking
photographs. He had tried with thumbnails to give some semblance
of action and it seemed to be well accepted, but a video would
let a person see the uninterrupted story line that the photos
only hinted at. For instance one might click on a thumbnail of
her sucking a cock and up would pop a total of four pictures each
three by three showing her in different positions such as taking
a big dick in the cunt or up her ass along with a face covered
with some Negroes or others cum, a kind of a sequence of the
action that she along with her co-stars had participated in.

But videos would show so much more, so yes a video was exactly
what was needed and through maybe two minute trailers on the web
site he could sell complete videos thereby increasing his income
perhaps ten-fold. But first he would have to check into equipment
cost, and what about a film crew? He didn't want the videos
looking as if they were shot by some amateur, all shaky and out
of focus with no story line or plot. That would never do, no, he
wanted her videos looking as if they had been shot by a
production company, the thought of which began to frighten him.
The outlay of monies would be staggering at first, but the
rewards, ahhhh the rewards, they would be fantastic. What was it
they said? To make money you had to spend money! Well money he
had, and as long as the web site was up and running more would
continue to come in.  As for pimping her he wasn't counting on
much money there because he'd already cut that back drastically.
In fact he'd thought seriously about stopping it altogether
because during her last outing about a week ago she'd given a
lack-luster performance, almost as if she were bored. So yes a
change of pace was definitely called for, and what better change
than videos?


                        -- The End --


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