A 'Black-Owned' hubby knows where his place is, whether at home or elsewhere at work. He knows and understands perfectly well that someone has taken over the position he once thought he occupied, thus freeing from whatever requirements that prior to them he felt burdened about. The wife too takes her place beside her Master as his toy and personal sex slut, no longer to dispel herself to the whim of the hubby.
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Black Master SHANGO’s vehicle was still parked in his driveway when he arrived there. He came down from his car with his briefcase in hand and went and tried the door handle, but it didn’t open for him. He pressed the doorbell and waited, tapping his feet on the ground till almost a minute later he heard lock turn. To his surprise, it wasn’t Shango or his wife that opened the door, but another black man, standing there smiling at him, sipping a can of beer in his hand. It took Tim a couple of seconds to remember him as the officer whom had as well deflowered his wife’s mouth the previous day at Olu’s place—Amir, his name was, he remembered.
“How’re you doing, Mr. Tim,” he held the door open for him to step inside and then closed the door behind him. “You should go upstairs. The boss is up there waiting for you.” He sblackmaned and took a swig from his beer can.
Tim stood and watched him dumfounded as he turned away from him and went in the direction of the kitchen before running up the stairs, swinging his briefcase along. Even from there, he could easily hear the cries of his wife penetrating his ears. The bedroom door was open enough and he came to a stop at the entrance, his mouth hung open as he watched Shango pounding his wife to submission on the bed.
Monica wore a red dress and high heels—a last year birthday present from Tim—and she was on all fours with her face pressed against a pillow while her Master hovered on top of her, fucking her like none other. Her joyous cries encircled the room with that of the bed groaning underneath them. Olu Shango was hard at work slapping her ass cheeks, never once losing momentum of his hips driving his cock inside the back of her wife’s buttocks. He turned to look at Tim still standing there by the doorway, ogling the sight of them fucking, afraid of taking one more step into the room which now bore the funky smell of semen and sweat and everything else associated with sex.
“How’re you doing, white boy?” Olu grinned at him. He brought one hand to his face and wiped sweat off his brow. He grabbed a fistful of Monica’s hair and pulled her hollering face off the bed and turned it towards where her husband stood. Her face too was sweaty and strands of her hair were glued to it. “Hey, bitch! Say hello to your hubby, would you?”
Monica managed something close to a greeting; her concentration was on the black dick that was still hammering down on her. Tim felt his briefcase leave his hand and fall beside his foot but didn’t pay it any mind. The sight of his wife being humiliated and fucked was churning his stomach … making him horny too. He saw himself loosening his tie and undoing his shirt buttons. The belt buckle of his pants came next and then his boxer shorts were pushed down his legs till all he was left with was his vest and shoe stockings. He approached the bed, not taking his eyes from the black god that was hammering his wife. His tongue licked his lips consecutively; he very much wanted to clean the Master’s cock, to taste his wife’s pussy in his mouth … and hopefully compare it to that of Lami’s.
Olu pulled out of Monica and she slumped on the bed, gasping like crazy. Her breath ruffled the bed sheets.
“Ohhhh my God!” she moaned repeatedly. She turned to her side, facing her husband. Her hand rested between her legs, seriously massaging her clit. “That was fucking awesome! Ohh my God, I’ve never been so fucked before!”
“May I, Master?” Tim indicated at Olu’s cock which now glistened with his wife’s cum and lubrication juice. Tim couldn’t seem to stop running his tongue over his lips. From where he stood by the bed’s edge, he could smell his wife’s cum on her Master’s dick. Olu stood over him on the bed, looking like an Ancient African god, if really he was one.
“You’re gonna have to beg for it, white boy,” Olu advised him. “It don’t come cheap to white boys such as yourself.”
“Please, Master. May I please … clean your cock for you?”
Olu laughed. “Go ahead, white boy. Put those lips of yours to the microphone.”
Tim opened his mouth and Olu jammed his cock all the way into his mouth, pushing it in and out. Tim gagged on his cock, feeling the knobbed head touching the end of his throat, struggling to love it more. He wrapped his hand around his Master’s cock and sucked his cock clean. Monica came over and joined him. He held Shango’s cock for her while she socked on it. Olu told Tim to get on the bed, both husband and wife kneeling before him while he stood in their midst with his cock stretched before him. He gripped their heads in his hands and pushed his cock back and forth between their open lips, grazing their tongues as they each licked his foreskin, kissing each other while they did. Monica took his cock in her hand and thrust it into her mouth while Tim kissed her tits, afterwards sucked on Olu’s sagging balls. Back and forth, he and Monica shared his cock till the moment came when he erupted between their mouths, splattering several drops on the bed sheets. Tim and Monica struggled to swallow the rest of his cum, including the ones that dripped down their chin.
When they were done cleaning him up, Olu got up, roughly pushed them aside and came down from the bed and turned around to size them both.
“That’s how I want both of you cleaning me every time,” he said, then turned around and went into the bathroom.
Monica and Tim fell on the bed, pulling into each other’s arms, sharing a deep, passionate kiss unlike any they’ve had in a long time. Tim caressed his wife’s breasts in his hand, took his lips from hers and sucked each of them into his mouth. Monica moaned sensuously, half pulled herself from the bed, pressed her husband’s head down on her chest.
“Suck on that tit, white boy,” she murmured, caressing the back of his head. “Bite the nipple, white boy. Go ahead, bite it!”
Tim did as she wanted, gumming his mouth on her breast and pulling at it roughly. This seemed to excite Monica more and she grooved her body under his; her other hand grasped and tugged at her husband’s cock which was already gushing pre-cum on her thigh. She pushed him to lie on his back and slide down on the bed, beating his cock against her mouth, her eyes drooling with lust.
“You know I can’t give you any pussy, white boy,” she told him, indicating at the door leading into the bathroom. “Master says you’re never to fuck my pussy again—that’s his personal property, not yours anymore. But he said nothing about me giving you head.”
The bathroom door opened and out came Shango, dripping water from his head down to his feet. Monica came down from the bed immediately, got herself a towel and brought it to him. He looked at her—she knew what his look meant. She ran the towel over his body, wiping off every trace of water. She came to her knees and did the same to his legs. She spent more time towelling his cock and balls; her face came closer and she blew air on his sleeping cock then, unable to hold herself, she gave it a smooching kiss.
“How’s your tomorrow evening going to be like for today, white boy?” Olu said to Tim, who now got off the bed and stood beside it. Seconds later, Olu’s senior officer, Amir, walked into the room, still trailing his nakedness. He picked up his clothes that loitered the floor along quiet as he’d come, left the room with them.
“Well, to tell the truth, I don’t have much to do then. Sundays are usually boring for me,” answered Tim. “I was going to watch some TV—”
“That’s lame, white boy,” cut in Olu. “Don’t you ever think of taking your wife out? You’re such a bore, do you know that? Anyway, I’ve got this gig I want you and the Mrs., to attend. It’s a party happening over at the English Consul building tomorrow. They’re hosting some Nigerian Children charity benefit. Get me my jacket, darling,” he said to Monica.
She dropped the towel on the bed and went and opened the wardrobe and took out her Master’s clothes. She took down his jacket which was in a hanger and held it for him while he reached inside and took out a white envelope from within which he then passed to Tim. The envelope was sealed; on the back it bore the British coat-of-arms insignia and the name MR. & MRS. SIMMONS spelt in bold letters on it.
“That’s your invite, white boy. The party started at seven-thirty this evening, so be there within that time. I’ll be on the lookout for both of you.”
