The story you are about to read includes very explicit reference to sex. If you are not old enough to read this story where you live, or if you object to frank language about sex, please read no further.

If, however, you enjoy sexual fantasies and a bit of humor along the way, please read on!

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Hi, my name is Becky, and I live a life that I could never have imagined. I have a husband and two wonderful children, but they don’t know about me. At least, I hope they don’t. You see, I have absolutely no way to say no to black men. When I’m near them, my whole body responds, and when they speak to me, all I can say is, “Where? When? How?”

It all started this way:

“Bye, y’all! Be careful! Bring back lots of fish!”

I waved goodbye my Richard, my husband, and Jason and Mike, our sons, as they pulled out of the driveway for their first ever “Men only fishing trip.” It was a tradition that Richard’s dad had started, something he enjoyed so much that he insisted that he take the boys once a year on a fishing expedition. This year, they were going salt-water fishing, to the ocean. Just a little pier fishing, but it still made me nervous. I watched them roll away hoping they’d all come home to me safe at the end of the week.

They had decided to go during the week after Easter, because Richard said the fishing was better when the water was cooler, so I had the week to myself. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do with all this time, but I figured I’d do a few things for myself. A spa day, that sort of thing.

I didn’t even have a job to fill up the days. Richard and I had agreed that we wanted the boys to have a mom at home, at least until they started school. Jason was in second grade, and Mike was in half-day kindergarten, but I hadn’t yet returned to work. I had been talking to a local PR firm in Charlotte, but I was still wanting to work part-time, and they weren’t looking for a part time person.

So, I walked back into the house and got my car keys. I took my Taurus to the grocery store, to buy food for the week. I loaded up on things that I like, things the boys would never eat, and that I missed, and a couple bottles of good Pinot Grigio, and put them into my trunk to go home. We lived then, and live now, in a house on the outskirts of Charlotte. A nice two story colonial, on a wooded half-acre lot that had lots of privacy. Arriving at home, I fixed myself some linguine and scallops with a light wine sauce, and finished the rest of the bottle, which was the beginning of it all.

I drank all the wine because I was feeling a bit lonely and sorry for myself, sitting in that big house, all alone, and then I fell asleep in the den, in Richard’s big, overstuffed recliner, watching his big plasma tv. And I forgot to turn on the alarm. Since that time, I’ve wondered if I did that unconsciously, but intentionally. I don’t know, but I might have.

I woke up when the door from the garage into the house opened. I was disoriented, couldn’t remember why I was in Richard’s chair, couldn’t remember why I had a dry mouth and a bit of a headache. Then I heard footsteps, and my heart jumped into my throat. Richard kept a gun in the hall closet, but the ammunition was hidden in our room. Besides, I’ve never been comfortable with guns, so instead of fighting, I decided to hide. Whoever it was wasn’t turning on lights, so I thought I could hide well enough under the wet bar in the back of the den. I crawled back there and tucked myself under the bar as the footsteps headed up the stairs to the bedrooms.

I thought about trying to get to the phone in the kitchen, but then I heard a second set of footsteps on the first floor, in that part of the house. I felt my waist, finding the clip for my cell phone, but no phone. No way to summon help, so I tried to be as silent as possible.

I nearly screamed though, when I heard a voice, just the other side of the bar, yelling. “Hey, Kris, you find anybody up there?” Then the answer, “No, bro, not a one. I told ya, I saw ’em leaving with a car full of luggage and fishing gear and shit. They’ll be gone a long time. We can hang here the whole week I bet.” So, this Kris saw Richard leaving with the boys, and thought I was in the car. They were looking for a place to stay.

I heard a click and the pole lamp in the far corner of the den came on. I was still hidden, but if either of the two men came behind the bar, I was in plain sight. It was all I could do not to cry. I was shaking so badly I thought I’d make the bar rattle. I heard footsteps clunking much more noisily down the stairs. Hey.. T. Here’s some real clothes. Put ’em on. No need to wearin’ them grays no more.”

“Thanks. Man, I’m tired of wearin that same shit every day. Gonna get me some decent shit first thing we get outta here. I bet these folks got some good shit, too, stuff we could take to Mack, get some cash.”

“No, shithead, that ain’t the plan. We steal shit, the cops’ll be all over this place, and sooner or later, they’ll figure out it was us, and they’ll be back on our trail. No, we leave it how we found it, and just use this place to lay low a while till they lose the scent. By then, they’ll figure we’re in the City, or in Mexico or some shit. Just be cool, and work the plan.”

“Yeah, yeah… whateva… shit.” I heard Richard’s recliner groan as T collapsed into it. He had to be big. It was a big, sturdy chair. “I guess I could like bein’ here for a week or so. Gonna be like a a fuckin’ hotel.”

“A hotel with a fuckin’ bar!” said Kris. “Want a drink? I don’t think the three bears will miss a couple shots o’ Jack.” Footsteps got closer. I tried to melt into the floor. There was no way to hide, no place to go. He was coming around! I was going to be found!

At first, the man didn’t notice me, but I saw him. He was dressed in gray pants and a matching plain gray shirt. He had his back to me, getting a glasses down off the shelf behind the bar. Across the back of the shirt it said, “Property: Dept. of Corrections.” Oh god. Convicts. They would kill me. I couldn’t help giving a tiny little scream as he turned and I saw his eyes flash to the human form curled beneath the bar.

“Well, damn! Whatta we got here?” He reached down and took me by the wrist, pulling me upward, but I was locked in a tiny ball, unable to relax. He pulled harder. “C’mon, lady, get up. How come you’re here? Your old man leave you here all alone?” He was laughing, but I could tell he was a little worried. He hadn’t expected to find anyone. He wanted to be alone in the house for a week. I was in the way. I was in deep shit.

T jumped out of the chair when he saw me. “Holy fuck! Who da fuck you got there?”

“Must be the guy’s wife. Thought she was gone. Guess I’m wrong.”

“No shit. Whatta we gonna do with her?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure. Sure as fuck messes up the plan, don’t it? Still, she ain’t goin’ no place, and I don’t think she can even talk, she’s so fuckin’ scared. Lemme think on it.”

T walked closer. “Yeah, you think. She hot, though, ain’t she. Lookin’ awful good. Been a loooong time, knowhatimean?” T must have been 6’4″ at least, arms as big as Richard’s thighs, a bit of a gut on him, but he looked big, like a football lineman, strong, heavy. He must’ve weighed 270. As he talked, his huge meathook of a hand stretched out and caressed my butt. I was still in my clothes from the day before, canary yellow shorts, cuffed, not terribly short, and a white sleeveless blouse, buttoned. I shook like a leaf in a windstorm at his touch.

“Do you talk, bitch?” he asked. I nodded. “Then, talk, dammit! Say somethin’. Shit!”

“Please, don’t hurt me.” I whispered. They both laughed heartily.

“Nah, I ain’t gonna hurt ya, baby. I steal shit, I don’t hurt people. And T? He ran numbers and shit, but he wasn’t the enforcer. He’s gentle as a lamb, aintcha, big man?” They both got another big laugh out of that. “Naw, we ain’t gonna hurt ya, but he’s right. You do look good.”

I should stop here to introduce myself a little better. You know my family a little. I’m 34, 5’4″ tall, and I weigh 128 pounds. I have a decent figure for a woman with two kids, a nice slim waist thanks to lots of pilates, and a 34c chest. Richard says I have a perfect heart shaped ass. I think it’s a little too big, but he likes it. So did T. I have hazel eyes, medium brown hair, hanging just beyond my shoulders.

Oh, and Kris. If he hadn’t been breaking into my house, I’d have said he was an attractive man, about 6 feet tall, 180, with a shaved head that looked like it had been made to be shaved. He had large, dark eyes and a smile that made his cheeks dimple.

T gave my butt a little squeeze, making me jump. “Yeah, you go 6 months without even a whif o’ pussy, they all start to look good, but you.. you really are hot.” A small mewling escaped my lips.

Kris chuckled. “Whatsamatter, girl? Don’t like a compliment from a nigga? You a racist or somethin?”

“No, no!” I blurted out, shaking my head furiously.

“Oh, so you not a racist? Then, you musta fucked a few niggas along the way, cuz I know they been wantin’ to tap that ass. You got some FINE ass, girl.” He smiled, releasing my wrist as he talked, confident that I was too frightened to try to run. “So, you fucked some niggas then, huh?”

“Uh.. well.. no.. not exactly.”

“What? You mean no nigga eva tried to hit that? I don’t believe it. You are a racist bitch!”

“No.. no.. really.. .I uh.. I just.. no one ever.. I mean.. I .. oh.. god.. I don’t know what I mean… ” I broke down, crying.

“Now, now, no need to be doin’ that. You got a name, girl?” I nodded. It was strange, being called “girl” by a man who appeared to be almost 10 years younger than men. (T looked to be about my age.)

“I’m uh.. I’m Becky.”

“Okay, Becky, now, you stop that cryin’ you hear? I never liked hearin’ a bitch cry, ‘cept maybe in the middle of a gang bang. Now, I heard a few bitches cry then, cummin’ so hard they laugh and cry all at the same time. Now that’s a kind of cryin’ a man likes to hear!” He and T laughed again.

“So, you ain’t neva had a nigga dick in ya, huh?” I shook my head. “But, if a nigga was to ask, you wouldn’t say no, would ya?”

“But, I’m married!”

“Yeah, I know that, but, I mean, if you wasn’t. You’d fuck a nigga if he was to want some o’ that, right?”

“I.. I suppose.”

“Well, now, that’s a good thing, see, ’cause me and T, we gonna be here a while, but I guess you heard that. We need to lay low a few days, and you gonna be right here with us, and, well… You heard T. He ain’t had no pussy but his right hand for about 6 months. Me? I been in nearly a years, so, I figger, sooner or later, nature gonna take its course. Knowhatimean?”

I’m sure he could seen in my eyes that I knew exactly what he meant. He smiled confidently. “Why don’t you just go fix us somethin’ to eat. We ain’t had nothin’ good in a long, long time. Whatcha got?”

“Uh.. there are some steaks in the freezer.”

“Steaks! You hear that, T? She gonna cook us a steak. Good, that’s good. Go on, girl, go fix us a steak. T, why don’t you go keep an eye on the cookin’. I’ll fix us all a drink. Yeah, this gonna be good. See? Now when her old man comes home, he gonna figure she drank all his booze!”

T hesitated, looking back. “You gonna leave her here?”

Kris grinned. “Oh, I might. I think she gonna understand, before we go, how she don’t want us gettin’ caught. I think, by the end of the week, we gonna be real good friends.”

I shuddered at the thought of what he meant by “friends,” and went to thaw two steaks at 2:30 in the morning.

I used the microwave to thaw the meat with T keeping a close eye on me. He’d seen the wireless phone in the kitchen and confiscated it. He and Kris collected them all, and my cell phone, too. T stayed with me in the kitchen, watching me closely, and not because he was afraid I’d run. My knees were so weak I could barely stand. There was absolutely no risk I’d try to run anywhere. No, he was staring at my ass most of the time. The rest of the time, he was looking at my chest or my legs, hungrily. He looked like he’d rather eat me than the steaks.

I prepared a salad to go with the steaks, and nuked two potatoes. Kris had me serve them in the den. He was watching a late-night movie on Richard’s huge plasma tv. I sat between them silently while they inhaled the red meat, potatoes, and greens, nodding and saying how good it all was. Not that I cared, but I did want them to like it so they wouldn’t hurt me, or do something worse.

Full stomachs, a half bottle of Richard’s bourbon, and the late hour finally made them sleepy. This was, I hoped, going to be my opportunity. If they’d just nod off watching the tv!

But no. Kris must have read my mind. “Ya know, Becky, me and T, we need some sleep. Been up since the middle of last night. I hate to tie you up all night. I think I got a suggestion. T? When I was upstairs, I saw the biggest fuckin’ bed you ever saw.” I guessed that he meant the king in Richard’s and my bedroom. “I figure, we put her in between us, we can all get some shuteye, and nobody has to be tied up. You think you’d wake up if Becky here tried to get outta the bed?”

“Shit,yeah, Kris. I used to sleep with one eye open anyhow. No problem.” He grinned lasciviously. I wasn’t sure if he intended to sleep or not. Kris didn’t seem to care.

They took me upstairs, to our bedroom. We have a large bedroom, 16×20. In addition to the king sized four-poster, Richard has his armoir, and I have an 8′ dresser with a big mirror. There is a small seating group in one corner, and a large master bath off the bedroom with a tiled shower and vanity. When we got to the room, the men started to undress. I turned my back, blushing.

“Whatsamatter, Beck? Never seen a man naked? That’s how I sleep, sorry. T too. Now, climb in the middle there, T, you get on that side, I’ll take the other.” I turned, trying to keep my eyes lowered, but I think they wanted me to see them. They were both so close that I couldn’t avoid seeing their oversized penises dangling between their legs. My breath caught in my throat, from embarrassment, I’m sure, though my heart did speed up a bit, too.

I crawled onto the bed, fully clothed. I even had my shoes on.

“Now, Becky. I bet you don’t want those nasty shoes on you those classy sheets. You wear those into the bed, I’m gonna think you wanna run away, and I might have to tie you up. C’mon, kick em off.” He and T were standing naked on either side of the bed. without looking, I did as he asked. I lay down.

“You really wear your clothes to bed? All that? Hmm.. I think she really does hate us niggas, T. She don’t wanna risk touchin’ any black skin.” He said then next with a real sense of menace in his voice. “Yeah.. she’s a fuckin’ racist after all.”

“No.. no.. really.. I’m not.. I uh.. I was just so nervous.. I forgot… um.. I can change.. into nightclothes.. if you want… really!”

“Well, now, that would go a long way to make me think you’re not a hater. It would.”

T sat on the side of the bed as I got off and went to my dresser to find some pajamas. I pulled open the drawer. Kris moved over next to me, very close, his nakedness making me terribly nervous. I fished for my old, comfortable flannel pj’s, but Kris’ hand reached in, pulled out a nightgown. “This oughta do, wear this.” He held it up, a fairly short negligee, but at least it was opaque, antique white. I grimaced, took it from his hand and headed for the bathroom.

“Where ya goin’ Becky?”

“The bathroom? To change?”

“T, go with her to the bathroom.” I blurted out a “No!” and they laughed. “Okay, Becky, we’ll look away, you change quick.”

They both turned their backs and I stripped quickly, putting the negligee over my panties. I ran and jumped into the bed, pulling covers up to my chin, shivering more with nerves than the cool of the sheets. I lay there on my back, staring at the ceiling as they climbed in on either side of me, T on my left, Kris on my right. They rolled onto their sides, both facing me, and got very still. I thought that they might actually fall asleep, though I knew that I would not. I lay there, listening to their breathing as it slowed.

An hour, or maybe two hours later, I was still wide awake. I thought they were asleep, but then I heard T stirring. His hand slowly snaked below the sheet until it rested on my belly. I think I held my breath, hoping this was an accident, but his hand started to slide up until it cupped my breast. At that point, I gasped. I tried to push his hand away, but he wouldn’t be refused. He was so strong that I couldn’t even budge his hand as he twirled my nipple between his finger and thumb. I gritted my teeth and struggled not to make noise. He squeezed my whole tit in his hand, gradually harder and harder until I moaned. That must have been what he wanted to hear, because his grip relaxed. Then, the huge hand began to slide lower, leaving my left nipple throbbing. He rubbed my belly through the silk, then continued to move his fingers southward until he was rubbing my thigh.

I guess I made some little sound, because I heard T chuckle. He squeezed my leg, then slid his fingers up under my nightgown until they were touching the crotch of my panties. Though my legs were pressed tightly together, he had no difficulty pushing a couple of the between my legs. He started to rub my vulva through the cotton of my panties. Slowly, slowly, his fingertips moved up and down along my slit, turing my body to ice. I was incredibly tense, every muscle so tight that you could have picked me up by my one foot, and my whole body would have moved.

I just lay there, eyes clamped shut, shivering as he rubbed me. Though I knew it was coming, I was still shocked when he tugged at my panties, pushing his fingers through the leghole to touch me more directly. I gasped, and I heard a chuckle from my right. Kris was watching all this. Damn. I’d been hoping he was asleep, at least.

He lay there watching as his friend played with me. T’s hand left my crotch, but only to slide up under my nightie to my breasts again, this on bare flesh, touching my tummy, playing with both nipples now, chuckling as he drew gasps and groans from me, tweaking one tit then the other. They seemed so be going so slowly, playing with me. I almost wished they’d get on with things and rape me, get it over with.

It wasn’t a surprise then, when I felt Kris’ foot slide across the bed and catch my right one. He pulled my leg to the side, so that when T’s hand drifted down again, he could get better access to my panties. T joined him, catching my other foot and spreading my legs a little more, then pushed my panties to the side, and inserted his finger between the halves of my mound. I heard him grunt approval, and then I felt why. His finger was sliding slickly in and out of the entrance to my vagina. I was wet.

I melted with shame, realizing that my body was telling him I wanted something I didn’t want at all. I started to cry silently, and crying, I relaxed slightly. T seemed to take this as an invitation, and he pushed his finger into me to the second knuckle. This time, I gasped aloud, groaning a little as well. Both the men laughed. T spoke, “Ya know, bro, bitch is wet already, like she been layin’ here waitin’ fo’ it.”

“Shoulda known, big man. The white ones that say they don’t want it? They the ones want it most. You want to hit it first?”

“Fuck yeah, bitch got me rock hard already, and she ain’t even touched it.” I whimpered. “That’s right, bitch, I got ten hard inches fo’ ya, so get ready.” Ten inches? Ten inches? That was nearly twice the size of my husband’s erect penis. How could he get that into me? I started to cry more openly, but it didn’t seem to matter to either of them. T just kept fingering me, more and more vigorously, working two, then three fingers into my vagina, getting me “ready.” I just lay there, my legs parted, eyes shut, wishing it were over.

Then he and Kris were tugging at my panties, forcing my legs together so they could get them off, and T, with his massive body, was rolling on top of me. He propped himself with one hand, and with the other, he guided the head of his erect penis to the slippery folds of my vagina. His belly rubbed on mine while he grunted and pushed, finally working the swollen head inside me. I nearly jumped off the bed. “Oh, God!” It felt as if he’d pushed his fist up inside me, it was so thick.

“Dat’s right, bitch, dat’s what a real cock feels like, gonna teach you what it means to get a real fuckin!” He removed his hand and thrust again, wedging more of his gross manhood into me. With that, he started moving in and out, just that much of him, getting himself good and slick, getting me a little looser. Then, with a sudden thrust, he shoved more of his erection into me, making me grunt with pain. Again, he slid in and out that way for a a while, wetting himself in me, preparing me before using his enormous weight to drive even more of himself into my tight canal.

Again and again, he used this method to insert more of himself until I felt his glans pushing painfully at my cervix. Now his thrusts hit home there again and again, sending shocks of pain radiating through my body. I had beey lying silent, nearly limp, just trying to survive his onslaught, but this frightened me. Between thrusts, I grunted, “Please. no… more.. can’t.. take.. more.. no… more.. room…”

Kris lying beside me, watching mostly, though he toyed with my nipples from time to time, chuckled. “Oh, it’ll fit sooner or later, Becky. T here has turned more than one white girl into a bcs. He knows what he’s doing.” “BCS?” I thought? What in the hell is he talking about?

T was sweating now, dripping onto my face and chest as he thrust into me over and over and over again. His massive tool slid in and out of me more easily now. I was secretly glad that I’d already had two children. I was sure it made it easier to adjust to his size. I tried to lie quietly, just letting him use my vagina for his dirty purposes, waiting for him to finish. I hoped he was “clean” but I wasn’t worried about pregnancy. I was on the pill.

T kept thrusting against my cervix, though it hurt less and less as the minutes passed. Then he lowered his bulk onto me, covering me completely. He felt so heavy, I could hardly breathe. With his massive hands, he reached down, pressing me into the mattress and grabbing my buttocks with both hands, he nearly doubled the rate of his thrusts. By this point, with Richard, he’d have long since cum and fallen asleep, but this behemoth was just finding his pace, he lifted my hips slightly with his hands, adjusting his angle, and suddenly, I could feel his heavy testicles resting against my butt.

He was all the way inside me! His groin ground against mine, rubbing fiercely against my clitoris, and I squealed. Kris said, “Ya know, big man, I think she’s starting to get into it! See if you can make her cum!”

T grunted and started rutting wildly, holding me close against him as he rocked his hips, forcing all of his swollen manhood into my belly with aggressive thrusts, slamming himself between my legs and smashing into my tender clitty again and again and again. In spite of myself, my determination not to participate, I found my breath coming faster, my heart pounding. I could hardly move, but my toes started to curl as the sensations from my over-stretched vagina intensified. I heard someone whimpering with each of T’s thrusts, and knew it must be me.

“That’s it, big man, fuck the bitch… fuck that sweet pussy. She about to cum.”

If only these men had been like Richard. If only they’d been satisfied to “get their rocks off’ and go to sleep. But they weren’t. They seemed determined to witness my orgasm, to reduce me to that for their own pleasure. And, in another minute or two, T succeeded. I felt the orgasm building, but didn’t want to climax. “Please… no… don’t.. make… me…” I begged him between thrusts, gasping for air beneath his bulk. He just chuckled, his body sliding slippery against mine, covered with sweat, soaking my nightgown. Thrust after thrust, he only seemed to push harder, determined to drive me to an unwanted orgasm.

I couldn’t resist it any more. My back arched, my knees drew up and out, my fingers gripped handsful of egyptian cotton and I came, moaning loudly. I got much, much wetter, my vagina spasming, gripping T’s offending member tightly as it continued its onslaught. Having achieved what he wanted, he gave in to his own lust, thrusting wildly between my legs until I felt him explode inside me, shooting 6 months of frustration into my body. He lay heavily on me, holding his spurting penis as deeply as he could between short, powerful thrusts, emptying himself. It seemed to take forever for his orgasm to end. I thought at the time, (incorrectly) that this was because it had been so long since he’d had a woman, but no matter the reason, when he was done, I was lying in a small puddle of semen.

He and I lay there, panting, sweating, joined together as his erection ebbed. At last he rolled off, and I tugged at the sheet to cover up. Kris laughed. “You ain’t done yet, girlie, not by a long shot.”

“What? But, I’m a mess!”

“Don’t matter none. Niggas, we used to sharin’. Open up, Becky,” he said with another laugh, rolling on top of me.

“Oh.. god…. ” as he rolled over me, I felt his stiff manhood slide across my thigh, and it felt as hot as a branding iron. I lay there, limp, spent. I couldn’t imagine why he’d want to put himself into my semen-soaked slit. Then, resting his weight on one hand, Kris took one of mine in his other. “Show me where to put it, Becky. Put it where you want it.” He guided my hand to his erection, and I tensed as my fingers closed around it, feeling it’s length and thickness. I shuddered, and slipped the spongy glans between my slick labia. “Is that where you want it? Huh? You want my fat, nigga cock in your married white pussy? Huh?”

I rubbed it up and down over my clitoris, hoping that would be answer enough. I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud, but he would have it no other way. “Is that where you want it? Tell me?” I nodded. “SAY IT!” he said in a commanding tone.

I nearly whispered, “Yes, that’s where I want it.”

Kris chuckled. “That’ll do, for now…” He pushed his hips forward, and slide smoothly inside me, I was stretched out enough now that his girth didn’t hurt, just made me feel wonderfully full. Plus, I was sloppy with T’s goo, so I was very well lubricated. I put my hands on his hips, feeling his hard muscles as he drove his hips forward, taking more and more of my well-used vagina with each thrust.

Then I gasped when I felt him strike bottom in me, forcefully. He started smashing against my cervix over and over again. My toes curled and I squealed with each impact. “Oh, did I forget to tell you? I”m not quite as thick as T, but I got two inches on him. Ya gonna get a whole foot of black dick this time, Becky!” His body suspended above mine, not rubbing all over me like T did, Kris hammered mercilessly at my vagina, gradually forcing more and more of his enormous tool up into me. I grunted with pain at every thrust. He practically drove the breath out of me, the way he worked me over.

His pace was much faster than T’s, and when the pain subsided, he brought me toward an orgasm much more quickly. Unable to restrain myself, I lifted my knees and dug my fingers into his back, urging him to bring me to climax. This time, it was T laughing. “Yeah, she wantin’ it bad, bro. Do her good, she be beggin’ for it soon.”

Kris grunted his agreement and quickened his pace again, slapping noisily between my thighs, bouncing his testicles off my bottom until I started to climax. I cried out loudly as the orgasm overwhelmed me, expecting Kris to follow shortly, but he didn’t. Untouched by my own ecstasy, he just kept his hips going, filling me again and again with his sweet heat. My orgasm seemed to double on itself, intensifying when it was supposed to decline, then doubling again. I started to get scared. I was losing it, or so I thought. I’d never felt anything so intense.

“Please.. Kris… no… no.. no more.. no.. HELP!” I lay beneath him, thrashing wildly, eyes rolling up in my head, totally out of control, totally lost in an earth-shattering orgasm.

“I am helping you Becky. Helping you a lot. Now you know what every fuck should feel like… ” He grunted, tensed, and erupted inside me. He just held it there, perfectly still but for the twitches and spurts of his penis. I could feel every one of them, and each one felt like a gift from the gods, a thunderbolt of pleasure and satisfaction that turned me inside out and back again.

When at last it ended, I was barely conscious. Kris rolled off and lay beside me, his arm over my quivering belly. “She won’t be going anywhere,” he said quietly to T, and then I was asleep.

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When I woke, the sunlight was pouring through my bedroom windows, but at at unusual angle. Instead of streaming across the bed as it usually did in the morning, it was striking the floor beside the window, as it did during the summers, in the afternoon! I jumped out of the bed, naked, and memories of the night before flooded my head, nearly knocking to the floor. There was a pleasant soreness between my legs, and I could feel dried semen on my skin. Sitting heavily on the side of the bed, I thought, “Oh, god, what have I done?”

“Finally woke up, huh?” T’s deep voice shocked me out of my shameful memories. I jumped a little, turned to see him sitting uncomfortably in one of the two chairs in our “sitting area.” “Been waitin’ here all fuckin’ mornin’. Mah man said I couldn’t wake ya up, said to let you sleep, but couldn’t leave you alone, ‘case you tried to run.” Well, now we can get the fuck outta here, get down, get some food.”

“Can’t I shower first?” I asked, looking down at the dried man-juices all over my legs and buttocks.

“After. First I gotta eat. Come downstairs with me, then you can shower.”

I went to the closet stripped off my sweat-soaked nightie and took down my robe.

“No clothes. That’s Kris’ word. No clothes. Just like you are.”

I stared at him, dumfounded, with the robe covering my front as it hung from both hands at my neck. “Not even this?”

“Nothin’. Just put it back, and let’s go, I’m about to fuckin’ starve.”

Slowly, I hung my robe on its plastic hanger, and followed T downstairs in my “altogehter,” as my mother would have said. I blushed from head to toes, I’m sure, as I presented myself, a sticky, naked mess, in the kitchen. Kris spoke first.

“Good, ’bout time you got your lazy ass outta the bed,” he said, without any anger. “We need some food. How ’bout you fix us some eggs and shit. It’s late, but what the fuck.” I was so embarrassed, I could hardly move. I kept dropping things as I got out the skillet and makings for bacon and sausage. I had some biscuits from the day before, and I dropped that plate to the floor, where it shattered on my new ceramic tile.

“Whatsamatter, girl?” asked Kris. “You upset about something?”

My fear and shame exploded to the surface. “Upset about something? Are you kidding? Last night, to strange black men invaded my home and then raped me. And now I’m standing naked in my kitchen, with their semen covering half my skin, and I have to cook for them?? Are you kidding?” I stood there, shaking with the cast iron skillet in my hand.

Kris laughed first, and then T joined in. They laughed so hard it doubled them over. I had thoughts of banging them on the head with the skillet and trying to run, but I didn’t think I could get them both. When he caught his breath, Kris stood up and answered.

“Okay, first, we gotta work on your vo-cab-u-larry. You still talkin’ like a white girl. First thing, we didn’t invade yo’ fuckin’ house, we just came to borrow it. If your man had a lick o’ sense, he’d have your pretty white ass along with him on that damned fishin’ trip. No way I’d leave an ass like yours behind if you was MY wife. So, if you get in-con-venienced a little by our visit here, ain’t nobody’s fault but his.

Second thing is, I ain’t no rapist. See, a rapist don’t give a shit if a girl cum or not, he just wanna get ova on her. Now, me an’ T? We made you cum last night, didn’t we?” I stood there, mute and motionless. “Didn’t we??” he said, more demandingly. I nodded, ashamed. “Yeah, tha’s fuckin’ right you cummed. Shit girl, you was about tah fuckin’ pass out. Bet you ain’t neva cummed so good in your whole fuckin’ life, have ya?” I shook my head. It was true, I’d never expereinced an orgasm like the ones I’d had the night before.

And girls who love to fuck as much as you obviously do, they don’t say shit like “semen.” Okay? It’s cum. Ya got cum all over ya, and it looks good.

Now, about bein’ nekkid. I wouldn’t be worryin’ about that too much. You gonna be nekkid the whole damn, week, so get used to it. You got a hot fuckin’ body, and a nigga wanna see it. This nigga wanna see it. Now, cook us some breakfast, and you can go get a shower.

I glared at him for a moment, then turned my back and went to the refrigerator to get out eggs and some sausage links. I fixed them scrambled eggs with diced peppers and sausage, with some orange juice and coffee on the side. Kris made me sit at the table with them, still naked, while they ate. “Can’t go up there alone, Beck. Might decide to go out a window or somethin’. You still don’t know what you are. When you do, I’ll be able to trust you.”

What I am? I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but I sat there in the breakfast nook, fuming, waiting for them to finish eating so T could go up and supervise my shower. At last they finished and I was permitted to go and wash. The smell of the semen, of the “cum” in the bathroom was powerful. It triggered a lot of unwelcome responses in my body. I became uncomfortably aware of my nether regions, the swelling and tenderness that had resulted from the incredible beating I’d taken the night before. It wasn’t pain, just sensitivity, and the sensitivity felt too close to arousal. I pushed the ideas away and finished washing, dried off and walked as normally as I could back to the den, where Kris was watching one of Richard’s Steven Segal dvd’s on the big set.

“Now what?”

He glanced over. “Well, unless you’re in a hurry to fuck again, do whatever you want for a while. T and me, we’ll take turns keeping an eye on ya. He got duty till the movie’s over, then it’s back to me.” He stopped and waited for several pregnant seconds before asking. “Unless you wanna fuck again right away?”

“No, no way!” I shook my head and barked my answer.

“Fine, fine. Later then.” He turned his back on me and watched the movie.

T followed me around that afternoon as I collected clothing from the boys’ rooms and did laundry. I might have forgotten that I wasn’t wearing any clothes if he hadn’t stared at me the way he did. There was no mistaking his intention. He wanted me to see that he was staring, and he wanted it to affect me. It did.

At first, it made me embarrassed. I know I’d had him grinding away between my legs the night before, but it was dark. Here it was, in broad daylight, and my nakedness clearly excited him. He grabbed his crotch from time to time. It always seemed that he did it when I was looking his way, too.

After an hour or so, though, the embarrassment faded. Instead, I kept remembering the sensations his thick member had created in me, the reasons for my tenderness that made my heartbeat accelerate, my breath shorten. His stares gradually ceased to be insults, and became comments on my desirability. By the time Kris relieved him, I was washing the sheets from my bedroom, and my stomach was turning nervous flip-flops.

“Washin’ the sheets, huh?”

“Yeah, they were a mess, soaked with sem.. er.. with… cum.”

“Yeah, T’s a big cummer.”

“You mean, he does that all the time? I thought it was, because of the time in.. in prison.”

Kris laughed. “Nah, you think he didn’t jerk off the whole time? Shit, that man was jerkin’ is dick two, three times a day. And he cums like that every fuckin’ time. Bitches love it.”

I shuddered, thinking about T’s capacity, and about how much I’d enjoyed it, too. I must’ve blushed or something. Kris noticed. “You liked it too, huh?” I didn’t answer, pretending to be busy shaking out a sheet before stuffing it in the washing machine. “Well, didn’t you?” Again that demanding tone. I looked up.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Now, see, that wasn’t so hard was it? Becky, by the time we leave, you gonna get over this shit and get comfortable with that, “inner slut” you got. I just stared at him, open-mouthed. “Yeah, that’s right. I could tell from the first. You one serious slut inside. Ya just need to let it loose.”

He walked off, sitting in the kitchen where he could see into the laundry room. I finished starting the laundry, then went and got some chicken out of the freezer to thaw for supper.

With nothing more to do, I went into the den with T. Kris followed. T was in the recliner, so I sat on the couch. The leather felt strange against my bare buttocks. I squirmed a bit and had just about found a comfortable position when Kris plopped down beside me. I tensed as he scooted up against me. “Becky, I meant to thank you for these clothes. I seen those pics of your husband. These, and the ones I found for T, they can’t be his. How come you got stuff this big? Boyfriend?” He laughed, patting my bare leg. He left his hand there, and I was afraid to remove it.

“No, those are clothes we collected for the thrift shop downtown. Glad you could find something that fits.” I tried to focus my attention on the television, but Kris kept squeezing and rubbing. My breathing got short as his intenitons became clear. My heart was pounding, and my previously abused vagina began to tingle. When I shifted, I could feel my own wetness on the leather of the couch.

“Now, Becky, some’ll tell ya that niggas, we don’t eat pussy, and that’s just a lie. See, we eat pussy all right, but just to get pussy ready to fuck. We don’t do it like white boys do. They eat pussy cuz they think they need to, cuz they can’t please a woman like we can, so they gotta make up for it. I ain’t neva gonna eat you till you cum, cuz I don’t gotta. I’m gonna make ya cum all over my big, black cock. But white pussy, it’s tight, and it helps to get it good and wet, don’t it T?”

All through this long little speech, his hand was rubbing up and down my leg. When he finished, T answered. “Yeah, that’s about it. Ya do what ya gotta do to get the pussy ready.” He chuckled and kris rolled off the couch, kneeling in front of me.

“Open your legs, Becky.” Slowly, I parted my knees. “Nice, I love a shaved pussy.” He smiled as he lowered his face between my legs, his tongue out. I leaned back, closing my eyes and gritting my teeth. I groaned through those teeth as Kris reached up, spread my labia and started lapping at my clitoris. T laughed louder. Over and over again, he dragged his tongue up over the opening to my vagina and across my swelling clit.

I couldn’t stop myself. My hands went to his head, holding it, feeling the tight curls of his hair close to his head under my fingertips. I slid down in the couch, pushing my hips forward and lifting them slightly. I moaned more and more loudly as he continued his attack. Then, suddenly, as I began to give in fully to the feelings radiating from my crotch, he stopped. Just stopped. “Okay, your turn, Beck. Got ya ready, now you get me ready.” He was sitting next to me, waiting.

T smiled knowingly as I slid off the couch and took a position on my knees between Kris’ spread legs. He made me reach up and undo his belt and zipper, and then pull down his jeans. He had on no undewear. “Commando. You didn’t have any shorts the right size.” In the light, Kris’ huge penis seemed more imposing as I wrapped my hand around it and lifted it to my mouth. He grinned and grunted when I started to suck it. “Good, good,” he muttered, his head back, eyes shut. He twitched in my hand, growing steadily harder and longer. I sucked and stroked, eyes watching for a reaction, getting none other than a small moan every once in a while.

I leaned closer as he got stiffer, his erection pointing at the ceiling. I thought that he might want me to suck him to an orgasm, but that wasn’t it at all. He really did just want me to get him ready to go inside me. As soon as he was hard enough, he opened his eyes and looked down. “Okay, Beck, climb aboard.”

He drew his legs together and patted the couch on either side of them, indicating that I should straddle him. I got myself off the floor and with mixed reluctance and anticipation, I put a knee on either side of Kris’ thighs. I put my hands on the back of the couch and waited for him to lift his erection into position, then started to lower myself. I felt the heat of his glans against my tender labia, and gasped.

“Lower, Becky. Lower.” I did as I was told. I felt him enter me for the second time in 24 hours. I wasn’t as tight, but I was so sensitive from the night’s activities it felt even more intense. I was so wet that he slid smoothly into me until I had my bottom resting on his legs. “Good. Good. Now, you like that?” I didn’t try to hide my pleasure, nodding vigorously. “Whatta ya like, Becky.”

“I like… I like feeling you.. inside me…”

He laughed. “You make it sound like you stuffed my whole body in you like some kind of man-shaped dildo. It’s not ME inside you. What is it?”

“Your…” My voice got small. “Your penis.”

“Both T and Kris erupted with loud laughted. “My what? Bitch, niggas don’t got ‘penises,’ we got cocks! SHIT!” he laughed hard, and I could feel his laughter, moving him inside me, which felt awfully good. “Now, tell me what you got up in you?”

“Your.. your.. your cock.” I said, quietly.

“That’s right, and where is it?”

“Inside me.”

“Inside you where?”

“My vagina?”

I was the recipient of another gale of laughter. “And sluts don’t got ‘vaginas’ neither. They got pussies, or cunts, or fuckholes, or whatever, but shit, not ‘vaginas’! Where the fuck do I got my cock?”

I nearly choked. “In my… my pussy.”

“That’s right, now, you like it, so tell me you like it. Say it.” He said this, his long-fingered hands holding my buttocks, his hips grinding in tiny circles, moving his stiff, hot cock slightly inside me.

“I like, um. I like having your big cock up in my pussy,” I finally said.

He didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t seem to want to play this game any more. His fingers dug into my cheeks, and he lifted me up until only the end of his, his cock, was in my pussy. “Okay, so put it back in. Ride me, bitch. Go on, fuck yourself on that fat, black cock. Go on, get to work.” He let me go, and I practically fell down, impaling myself suddenly on his thick, hard cock. The end of it slammed against my cervix, making me squeal, then I raised myself up and sat down hard again.

“Shit, bro, she takin’ that whole thing like a fuckin’ pro,” commented T from behind me.

“Yeah, well, you and me, we ain’t fucked too many white bitches got two kids. I think it helps. We gotta remember that. From now on, we just fuck white bitches with kids!” They both laughed as I pulled myself up and let myself fall again and again and again. My buttocks slapped loudly against his legs as I filled my pussy (I still have trouble typing that) with his hardness. I rode him harder and harder, faster and faster, with increasing desperation. If I could have pushed his whole body up into my aching hole, I would have.

Kris moved his hands from my buttocks to my tits, squeezing and tweaking. it slowed me for a minute, but soon I was back to a full gallop, fucking that huge cock with my increasingly sloppy cunt. I started to shake and moan, losing control. “Dat’s it, bitch, cum on dat nigga cock, cum on, bitch, cum hard!” T urged me on because Kris was busy sucking the nipples right off my breasts.

And cum I did. When I lost it, I sat down hard, just holding Kris’ cock deep inside while my pussy spasmed and squeezed. He flexed it a few times, way up in there, keeping my orgasm going longer than I thought I could stand. When it all started to ebb, he just lifted me up by my cheeks, and started fucking up into me so fast I couldn’t breathe. I really did almost pass out this time. I whimpered and cried, and he just chuckled, slapping up into my pussy double time, triple time. I collapsed against him, unable to hold myself up, but it didn’t stop him.

He kept up the incredibly rapid thrusts, forcing himself balls deep so fast I felt them rise up and bounce off my ass. That is, until he started to cum himself. I guess even a black man can’t keep that up forever. He growled like a bear, pulled me down on his cock and held me there while his cock spurted lava-hot cum up into my belly. I shuddered and came again. Not the shattering kind, but the deeply satisfying kind, knowing that he was filling me once more with his thick, sticky jizz.

I sat there, leaning against him, heaving for breath, when I felt T’s huge hands at my waist, pulling me up. He was so strong that he lifted me off Kris and set me on all fours at the other end of the sofa, as though I were an inflatable doll. I remained the way he set me while he jerked his jeans to his knees and crashed onto the couch, anxious to replace his friend in my dripping pussy.I looked back, panting, and watched while he positioned himself behind me and pushed forward.

I had forgotten how thick he was, but I was given a rude reminder when he took one vicious thrust to embed himself balls deep in my cum-slicked cunt. I screamed, part pain, part pleasure, not sure if he’d torn something inside me. “Oh, fuck, this bitch is tight.” He withdrew and slammed himself home again, laughing. “Girl, you got no IDEA how glad I am your man left you behind.” Hooking his fingers in the crook of my hips, he pulled me back, grinding inside me.

Then, without warning, he started to slam himself in and out of my pussy like a fucking jack-hammer. I could feel my eyes fly wide open, my breath catch in my throat. I started to cum again, and couldn’t contain myself. “Oh, GOD!” I screamed. “Oh god, I”m cumming.. too hard.. too much.. Oh.. God, T. Please.. no more.. no more.. I’ll go crazy.. Please.. no… OHHHHH!” Screaming, my head collapsed to the cushion on the sofa, my cheek against the supple leather while T used my pussy to pleasure himself.

When at last he reached his own climax, I had been through a handful of my own, barely catching a breath between one orgasm and another. T lived up to everything Kris had said about him, gushing like a firehose into my overused pussy, rocking his hips just enough to keep his orgasm going, then pulling out suddenly and falling to the deeply carpeted floor. It sounded like a pallet of bricks falling off a truck when he hit the floor. My bric-a-brac shelf rattled.

While T was causing a small earthquake in my house, I was dripping cum all over the couch. I put a hand under my pussy and dragged myself to the kitchen, where I grabbed a handful of paper towels to clean myself and the cushions. Fortunately, none of it had splattered on the carpet. When I had finished, I lay flat on my back on the floor, my legs spread, until I’d cooled down and had enough strength to fix supper.

That night, Kris and T both took another turn at me. This time, while I was cumming hard on Kris’ cock, he started to whisper in my ear. “You’re a black cock slut, Becky… A black cock slut. A black cock slut.” I was just nodding and agreeing, repeating what he said, my attention not on the words, but on the black cock invading my pussy yet again, sending me into some low orbit around the earth.

And while T was fucking me, Kris kept talking to me. “That’s it. Give your pretty pussy to his fat nigga cock. That’s what you want, it’s all you want. Go on, give it to him, you want him to cum in you. Go on.”

The rest of the week went on in much the same way. Both of them fucked me incessantly, in every room of the house, it seemed, in every position imaginable. And it seemed that every time I was cumming on T’s cock, Kris was reminding me, “You’re a black cock slut now. You need all the black cock you can get. You’ll never say no to a black man again.” Or, when he wsa fucking me, he’d be asking me questions. “What am I doing, slut?” and I would be required to answer, “You’re fucking my sluty white cunt with your big black cock!” or something like that.

When I had gotten used to their cocks in my pussy, they started in on my ass. (Black cock sluts don’t have buttocks, either, they have asses.) It took me a day or two, but by the end of the week, I was the stuffing for their oreo cookie, crushed between them as they double teamed both my holes.

I don’t think I slept for more than 3 or 4 hours a night during that week, so when Friday came, and they prepared to leave, I was exhausted. I listened to Kris’ departing words without question. Most of them I already understood.

“Okay, Becky. Now you know who you are. You’re a black cock slut. You always were, but you didn’t know it, and now you do. You’re never gonna be able to say no to a black man, ever again.”

Then he told me something new. “Now listen to this. From now on, when you go out of the house, you’re gonna get wet every time you’re around a black man. You won’t be able to stop yourself. And we can tell, we can smell it when a white bitch gets wet around us, so the men who make you wet, they’re gonna know. And if they want you, they’re gonna tell you they want to fuck you, and you’re gonna fuck ’em, every one of ’em. You can’t help yourself.”

“But even though we can smell you, can tell you’re a slut for black cock, we gotta be careful. If ever the white men knew how much white pussy we gettin’, he’d start to killin’ us again, so we got a system. When we smell a wet white pussy, we don’t just say, ‘Get over here, bitch, and lemme fuck you!’ We use a code. We say shit like, ‘Ma’am, do you need help?’ or “Can I give you a hand?’, or “Whatcha need?”

“When you hear the code, you let him know you want to fuck him, and you ask him how and where. If he don’t like your answer, he might say some shit like, ‘What the fuck you talkin’ about?’ If he does that, watch out. Might mean he’s mad, or he might just want you to be more plain. If he says somethin’ like that, you just tell him exactly what you want, and ask him how you can get it. Then he’ll give you what you need.”

“Remember, us niggas, we can smell a black cock slut a mile off, so we all know. Every black man you see, he gonna know. Now, we gotta go, Beck. Hate to leave that sweet pussy, but your man, I figure he’ll be back in the next hour or so. You get cleaned up. I know you ain’t tellin’ him nothin’ about us, but you might wanna buy a new bottle of bourbon, or he gonna think you been drinkin’ a lot. Now, getcherself dressed.”

He gave me a kiss, and then he and T were gone.

And I was a black cock slut. So, they could smell that on me, huh? Well, maybe they wouldn’t ask too often. That code sure was smart. I hoped I wouldn’t miss it. Didn’t want to piss anybody off.

I got dressed and went to the ABC store for more Maker’s Mark. Thank goodness the clerk wasn’t black, because I just got home before Richard did.

The rest of the story follows. It’s amazing how many men have used the code. Sometimes, they say it a little different from what I expect, but I’m getting good at recognizing it. Of course, it’s getting hard to explain why I do so much dry cleaning, and why I spend so much time “at the gym.” Richard likes that I ask him to fuck my ass a lot now, but that’s mostly so he won’t notice how stretched out I’m getting. It takes a lot of effort to make my pussy feel tight to him, and to fake every damned orgasm.

Oh, well, at least I know who I am.

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