Elizabeth's Roman Awakening Ch. 03

For a moment all he could say was, "Uhhh . . . Uhhh . . . Uhhh . . .," then was able to manage, "I . . . I umm think there has been a mis--"

Before he could finish, Joseph turned back to Elizabeth, lifted her chin, smiled engagingly and said, "What about this? Are you agreeable?"

Seeing the conflict in her husband's face, Elizabeth was now genuinely flustered, and given her internal conflict and changing state of mind, lowered her face and mumbled, "Your Highness, I think what my husband is trying to say is that such a thing is very foreign for us and would be something we would have to consider very carefully. We both appreciate your generosity and your friendship, but perhaps he didn't mean to suggest quite what you have in mind."

Joseph frowned, and when he moved to kiss her lips again, she turned her face from him and he wound up pecking her cheek. The limo's cabin grew awkwardly silent Looking across the small cavern at Michael, he asked earnestly, "Tell me Michael, you didn't mean the friendly gift of your woman? Did I misunderstand?"

Michael cleared his throat and managed to say in a cracking voice, "Well, I uhh, think. . . umm as Elizabeth said, this is something completely foreign to us, and well, it's something we have to talk about before . . . Umm, before things -- you know . . ."

He decided simply to say nothing else as he could scarcely believe he had just suggested, even remotely that the idea of sharing his wife was something that might be possible.

His voice trailed off and he couldn't meet Elizabeth's hot disapproving gaze, which he sensed rather than saw. He closed his eyes, suddenly aware of the fact that he was feeling a bit too drunk and not completely in control of either his emotions. For a fraction of a second, a vision of his wife, naked and writhing in reaction to the muscular black man still holding her arms. Squeezing his eyes shut, he dismissed the image, but not before feeling a tension in his loins. He hated himself for thinking of his wife in such an explicitly sexual way and clenched his jaw tightly.

Joseph defused the situation by smiling broadly and laughing. He patted Michael on the knee and shaking his head exclaimed, "Come my friends, let us not talk of this any further tonight. Certainly, things will work themselves out. Michael, forgive me for mistaking your intent. I felt that you were indicating you wanted the best for your wife and were simply tending your marital garden."

Michael looked puzzled as he tried to absorb what had been said. He rubbed his temples and asked, "Tending our . . . What did you mean?"

Joseph released his grip on Michael's leg and leaned back, spreading his arms wide over the seat back. His hand slid down to cup Elizabeth's opposite shoulder, massaging her with a familiarity that suddenly annoyed Michael and which Elizabeth tried unsuccessfully to shrug off. The prince pressed on regardless, maintaining the need to steer the conversation toward his purpose. "My friend," he began, "I have upset you. Anyone can see that you have a wonderful relationship full of shared interests and mutual regard, am I right?"

Michael nodded his head and indicated that the prince was correct. He started to speak but before he could Joseph continued, "And yet . . . and yet you know some things are missing in your relationship. You sense it don't you? Have you for example, felt that you are not as complete a lover as your wife deserves?"

Michael swallowed hard; a tear formed at the corner of one eye, he found he could not speak and instead simply sighed, his chest suddenly heaving in sadness.

"Friend Michael, you perhaps have seen enough of the way my brothers rule and how domestic life works in the region of Nigeria and Cameroon we control?"

The limo stopped sharply, pulling up in front of their flat. The street was dark, illuminated only by the tiny twinkling lights in front of the bistro across the narrow alley that served at their front door. Elizabeth could see in the flickering lights that tears were genuinely welling in Michael's eyes making them appear dewy. She could see how Joseph was preparing to manipulate her husband who suddenly appeared weak and spineless to her. She grew concerned for her husband and what could potentially threaten their marriage. She began to rise from the seat, but Joseph pushed hard against her right shoulder making her crash heavily back into the plush upholstery.

"Elizabeth, perhaps Michael has not explained the - shall we way 'anthropology' - of our culture, so allow me instead. You see, we recognized centuries ago that no one man could be everything to his mate, and that women have a far higher sexual capacity than many men. Frankly, most men are inferior to women in this capacity. They are what your western scientists would call 'beta' males. These men tend to make far better husbands and companions and are much preferred by our women as life partners. In contrast, there are also what you would term 'alpha' males whose primary task is to bring physical pleasure to our women. For the sake of putting a name on them, you might call them 'alpha' males in the west.

Patrice is for example a decidedly alpha male. I am told that my fellow tribesman brings Nigel's Anne to 5 or 6 orgasms a night, one after another. I am certain your Elizabeth is equally capable of at least that much pleasure with the right man. Perhaps you yourself have been able to give her the gift of that much pleasure when her mood is right, isn't that true my friend?"

Nothing was further from the truth, but Michael sat transfixed saying nothing at all. Joseph let his words sink in, knowing he had hit the mark. An uncomfortable silence, lasting several seconds, enveloped the limo like a heavy blanket. Beads of perspiration began to break out on Michael's forehead in the now overheated limo.

The chauffeur had moved to a position next to the jump seat door, but made no move to open the door. Michael could see his breath fogging the night air.

Joseph continued, "In our 'uncivilised' African culture, where there is no divorce and spousal abuse is almost unknown, married men and women 'tend their marital garden' as a farmer would tend his fields, encouraging different crops for different purposes. Thus a woman's companion for life cares for children, cooks, cleans their abode, prepare her for her bull, or in some cases, 'bulls'. This man in our language is referred to as 'companion husband' and more often, 'sister husband'."

"Additionally, a woman has one or more men to bring her pleasure and to breed superior offspring. Such men are called 'bulls', and yes, the meaning is the same as in your culture."

Again the powerfully built African paused for effect. "Bulls keep the tribe supplied with the strongest children. A woman's sister husband is her most intimate ally and confidant. Hence she shares everything -- her deepest secrets and desires, the details of her couplings with her bull -- often enlisting him to find and recruit her bulls for her. He takes this task on as a sacred validation of their marriage roles. Naturally marriages are consecrated and celebrated by the tribal leaders, so we often are recruited as the alpha husband to our women. This is sad for me, as I would never be chosen as a companion husband alas."

"Friend Michael, do I speak truly? Do I accurately describe what you have witnessed on your trips to Africa?"

Michael could only squeak out a weak, "Ummm, I uhh, uh-huh. I guess so. Yeah."

Michael, surely you believe every wife deserves a superior man -- one who can take her to new lands, undreamed of pleasures -- as well as one she can share other parts of her life with."

Michael could feel his small member growing uncomfortably rigid, and was speechless. Elizabeth's face was painted with anger, and she moved toward the car door, grasping for the handle. She didn't care for the way the prince had manipulated her husband into a difficult position. Moreover, she didn't care for her husband's lack of resolve and his inability to defend their way of life. Reinforcing her earlier fear and panic, she began to hate herself for the feelings, and the illicit passion she had shared so freely with the African prince. When she suddenly thought of him inside her, she was filled with disgust. She wanted nothing as much to leave the car and never see him again. With a quick motion, Joseph grabbed her forcefully, restraining her exit.

"Wait. Michael and Elizabeth, stop. Surely this must make some sort of sense to you, even if it is not the way things are done back in your Indiana? Even there, I am told there are many couples that live marriages by such an arrangement. I would ask you please to at least offer me some indication that at least you understand me and will consider what I am proposing."

Elizabeth blurted out, "Michael, no! No!"

Confused and intimidated, Michael didn't know what to say or do and wanted to exit the limo as badly as Elizabeth. He reached in his coat pocket for something to mop the sweat from his brow, and felt then pulled out the panties Elizabeth had tossed to him earlier in the evening, and in the darkness absent-mindedly fidgeted with them between his nervous fingers.

"Uhh, Your Highness. Well . . . We, umm, well we will sure consider your suggestion. Believe me. Thank you for the evening. Well, we have to go now. Umm, yes . . . have to go. Umm, here."

As if to placate a ravening dog with a scrap of meat, and without conscious thought, he tossed the bright red panties toward the African, then bolted past Elizabeth toward the door, now held open by the driver. In the darkness, Joseph held them up as if to inspect them, smiled approvingly of their bright crimson colour and the darker area where they were stained from close contact with a wet crotch earlier in the evening. He waved merrily at the couple as the car pulled away just in time for him to hear Elizabeth screaming, "Michael, damn you -- you're a spineless little worm," disappearing behind him in the distance.

14.

They walked up the stairs to their flat woodenly, not speaking and not looking at one another. Michael fumbled the keys, dropping them loudly, then picked them up with shaking hands. In a moment, they were inside and Michael collapsed heavily into the lounge sofa.

Elizabeth had tears in her eyes and stormed toward the bedroom. Over her shoulder, she stated in a cold voice, I'm going to bed. Alone." She looked down at his precum stained trousers then added, "Perhaps you should take a cold shower. I will bring you a blanket and a pillow. Good night."

Knowing there was no response appropriate to that, Michael threw up his hands and shrugged. Ten minutes later, tucked in on the sofa, then finally fell asleep. In their bedroom, sleep eluded Elizabeth. She tossed and turned and tried to make sense of the eventful evening, and finally her eyes closed.

In the small hours, Michael woke with the beginnings of a hangover and padded to the small kitchen to find some aspirin. After swallowing them and rubbing the back of his neck, he sat in the big chair in the lounge looking out into the darkness. He tapped his feet nervously, seeming to remember something. Looking over his shoulder at the bedroom and hearing nothing, he slid over to the computer. He turned on the machine and while waiting for it to boot, silently tiptoed over to his pants to retrieve the slip of paper Nigel had given him earlier in the evening.

He opened the URL written for him and entered the password. His hands trembled as he saw several images and video thumbnails. He immediately recognized Anne's image in several of them. In one series, she was primly dressed in an elegant dress and the photos appeared to be at some sort of elegant party. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she was clearly not pregnant; she wore a high neck form hugging red dress, white stockings, and very high stiletto heels. A man was pulling her by the wrist and a later image showed them dancing together. It took Michael a second to identify the man as Patrice, as his skin was so dark and the image slightly underexposed. In another, they were drinking each other's champagne in that silly arms entwined pose. There were several others from the same venue. Michael only saw Nigel in one of them and he appeared to beam at his wife and her tall companion.

Next, he clicked on a video at the top of the page. He was immediately absorbed at what he saw. Anne was facing the camera, still dressed in the red dress. Her left air was lifted gracefully and Patrice was running his hand down her arm while kissing her neck on the left side. As her arm floated downward, Patrice cupped her breasts through the dress. With her free hand she unpinned her hair and her blonde tresses flowed over her shoulders. Patrice continued kissing her from behind and massaging her breasts with huge hands. Anne's head swayed back and forth lazily, not even stopping when Patrice moved his hand to unzip her dress from behind.

Michael could see the hand gliding down her back, and then return to her shoulders, slipping her dress off. Its lush material made it plop to the floor quickly and in a blink of an eye, Michael saw Anne clad only in a sheer transparent bra and high stockings, snapped into an old fashioned garter. Amazingly , she wore no panties and Michael could see her blonde pussy hair neatly trimmed into a 'landing strip'.

Now in the video, Patrice, still behind Anne, reached to open her front closure bra. Her small 34A breasts tumbled out, looking ample on her petite frame. She shrugged the bra straps off and it slid very slowly down her porcelain arms. She leaned back again Patrice, her hands behind her now, rubbing Patrice's pants front, obviously massaging his cock. Patrice kissed her lips as her head rested against his chest. They were still facing whomever was manning the video camera and the African was pulling her nipples forward from the mounds of her breasts, making them stand out strongly from puffy pink aureoles.

His little member grew very stiff straining against his tight white briefs. Looking over his shoulder to make certain Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen, he began slowly stroking his penis now sticking out a full 4". He had been yearning to orgasm all night and in his hypersexual state, he would not last long.

After a few more minutes of sucking his tongue deeply she turned to face Patrice. She began unbuttoning his shirt and pushed it aside from his chest. She alternated between his black nipples kissing and sucking each one while her hand worked at his trouser zip. In moments, his massive black cock sprang free of its restraint and bounced into an upward pointing position halfway up her tummy. Michael marveled at the size of the black man's erection, both its length and overall girth.

He looked at the pitiful offering in his right hand and the realization hit home that no women would want a man with such a sad little dick, and his Elizabeth especially deserved more. Maybe he ought to push her harder he thought. As his attention was diverted, his penis shrank and became soft. Looking down, he hated himself and his obvious lack of endowment. He had not understood it then, but he had in that instant passed the entry gate to cuckoldom. In time, as his self esteem shrank, so would the size of his already small circumcised worm.

Turning his attention back to the video, Anne was now on tiptoes kissing Patrice while he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Next alternated between pulling her nipples toward him and cupping her breasts which disappeared each time in his huge dark hands. They continued kissing while she ran one hand over his hairless chest and, tugging back on his long foreskin, stroked his massive cock with the other.

She kicked off her heels and immediately became 4" shorter, just the right height to open her mouth wide and lower her head over the flared dark brown mushroom of his head. She looked so demure and innocent in the lens of the camera, her skin was absolutely flawless and soft. Her eyes however had the look of a woman in a drug induced haze, as though she had a desperate need for something and that need was about to be met. She pulled down on the massive tool and rubbed the head over each taut nipple coating them with precum which was leaking liberally from the giant black cock. Patrice told her sharply, "On your knees where you belong cunt."

She obeyed without hesitation and began to lick and cover his manhood leaving wet trails each time it emerged from her expanded lips. She sucked each of his balls then kissed back behind them and licked his taint. The black man was moaning loudly, then after several minutes, Patrice motioned her to a bed and ordered her on her knees.

The video camera jerked unsteadily as whoever was operating it struggled to move it into a better position. Eventually, it settled and Michael could see Anne's tiny pussy pointed straight toward the camera. Patrice had pushed her head unceremoniously down to the bed and as she moved, Michael could see her breasts now hanging straight down from her body, the aureoles seeming to span half her breast. Michael thought back to earlier in the night when he caught as sidelong glimpse of her breasts and how utterly huge and swollen with milk for Patrice's baby they had become. Anne certainly didn't appear prim and reserved anymore, nor did she, captured in the video where she had the look of a woman begging to be fucked. She waggled her ass back and forth and moaned, "Please, please."

A deep voice replied from slightly above the video frame, "Please what cunt?"

Anne looked back, her face and upper torso now red with lust and excitement. She moaned, "Please fuck me with your hot black cock, please."

Again the voice boomed, "And we will have no stupid talk from you about pulling, agreed? I am bareback inside you and I will finish inside you, right?"

Anne spoke in breathy reply, "Right, right. Please!"

With that, Patrice's taut black ass filled the frame and again the videographer move to the side to capture Anne's reaction. There was a wall mirror adjacent to the bed and now Michael could see the reflected image of Nigel. He was the videographer and he was naked except for some strange little contraption that seemed to encase and bend his tiny white penis and lock around his balls, so that only the head showed. Michael started to smirk at its petite size until he looked down at his own unit and saw that it was not much bigger, even erect.

Michael pulled hard on it, stiffening it again, and an image entered his brain of his own wife perhaps on her knees, perhaps with Joseph or Patrice behind her, and he knew that he had to have this. He had to make her understand that he needed this too. But how to broach the subject with her, how to turn her into a hotwife? Again, he failed to understand, but in just that instant, he was passing by the second milestone to cuckoldom.

As Patrice began to stroke incredibly hard and fast so did Michael. Patrice now flipped Anne onto her back and pushed her thighs apart, entering her roughly. As he rode her , they kissed in a way that was more intimate and sensual and made Anne moan in a way that Michael had never made his wife feel. He suddenly exploded pushing three tiny spurts into his free hand. Momentarily shocked at himself, he padded awkwardly to the water closet to find tissues.

When he returned, the pair had changed positions so that she was riding her lover cowboy style. As she pushed down and forward to take even more of him in, her pillowy ass cheeks alternately flexed and relaxed. Patrice was clearly balls deep inside her and as she worked hard for her climax her hands caressed his black body over and over. She screamed in ecstasy and it was clear that she had climaxed and climaxed hard. She fell over onto her black lover's chest and appeared to stop breathing for a few anxious seconds.