Author: Pervitron
Title: Boss Man
Summary: Think your sweet little wife is loyal?  Not
when she has an arrogant black boss withh brains, balls, 
and money.  Watch hubby try and stop him!
Keywords: MF, BM, cuckold, voy, interr, humil
_______________________________________________________

 WARNING: The following story contains graphic descrip-
 tions of a sexual nature. It is intended for mature
 persons only. Any persons not old enough to legally
 receive adult materials or who are offended by them
 should read no farther. Further distribution of this
 story--and all others of this nature by this author--is
 permissible only to appropriate persons and only if the
 contents and author credit are unchanged.

 NOTES:

 1. Copyright (c) May 1998 - 2008

 2. The persons and situations depicted in this story
 are entirely fictitious. Any similarities to actual
 persons or situations are completely unintentional and
 coincidental.

 3. Reader comments and feedback are always encouraged;
 send to Pervitron@Hotmail.com

 4. This story may be copied for free distribution,
 provided the author credit is retained.
________________________________________________________



 Story: Boss Man
 Author: Pervitron

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                        -=*=-

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "What's his name?"

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

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

 She just stared wide-eyed at me.

                        -=*=-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "You be my bitch?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

                           -=*=-

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

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

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

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

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

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

End

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I've always been fascinated by black men, they seem so much 
stronger, so much more powerful than the rest of us. This 
story had it's germination in a single sentence from another 
story. The line commented on how a man felt watching his wife 
give a handjob to her new black lover, and how fascinated he 
was watching the glint of her wedding ring as her hand moved.

In order to increase its intensity, I gave the man almost 
superhuman qualities. I wanted to strip away any reassurance 
from my white readers, so in addition to making him physically 
superior, which most whites would expect as a matter of course, 
and sexually superior, which most whites know but never speak of. 
I made him dominant in the business and politics world as well. 
He's just a better man, in every way

My attitude towards religion shows. I wanted to give the woman 
a moral elevation, as an extra tease I made her seem quite 
religious, almost saintly. One of those women who find sex a 
distasteful duty that God asks of them. The primal force of 
biology sweep all that away, as it always does in my stories. 
This woman wants a baby, and no moral sanction will stand 
between her and the bets bloodline she can find.

I love the ending, the sense of a man beaten. One of the 
qualities that makes an animal easy to domesticate is if 
it's social groupings have a strict dominance hierarchy. For 
animals like cows and pigs, we assume the role of the dominant 
one in the pecking order. The husband in the story is just 
like those animals, a weak loser exchanging menial duties for 
survival.


I'd love to here from you, no matter what you thought
 Of my story. Comments and story ideas are welcome at:
 Pervitron@Hotmail.com
http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/Pervitron/
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