Rules of Play

"I'll take a stroll then settle down with a good book," she told Jim.

Life is full of twists and turns.

Around seven-thirty Gemma took her stroll, her mind going over the sexual adventure of the previous night. By the time she returned to the hotel she decided that a stiff drink was needed before she retired to her room. A chance meeting changed the course of events.

"Hello."

Gemma had just been chatting to the young barman and was sat on a stool; she turned to see two large African men.

"You are on your own tonight -- is your man gone now?"

The faces didn't ring a bell -- she would have noticed two big black guys.

"Have we met?" she asked politely, knowing that they hadn't.

"Your man was speaking to our friends last night when we arrived. Maybe you didn't see us -- we did not stay in the bar."

"Yeah right!" said Gemma, "Jim spent time with some guys while I was dancing. He's had to go home actually -- but he'll be back tomorrow."

"We watched you from the small room over there," the big man told her in the slow way certain African's speak English. "You were dressed very nice -- we liked your gown."

Gemma blushed knowing he really meant he liked the way it showed off her cleavage and her tits.

The man gave her names she had no hope of remembering.

"My companion and I are from the Nigerian Trade Delegation," he explained. "I hope you will keep us company tonight."

"Well," laughed Gemma, "I'm just about to go to my room -- but thanks for the invitation."

"We will pay you," said the black man.

"What?" Gemma stuttered, "I think you have the wrong idea!"

She was about to leave when the men from the night before appeared around her.

"I heard the proposition," said the main man smiling, "I'll explain the error to my friend -- allow me to apologise."

"He thinks I'm up for hire!" said Gemma, flabbergasted by the audacity of the man.

"We were with your husband last night," explained the smart man, dressed in an expensive suit. "We saw you partying -- and I'm afraid our friends here arrived just in time to peep into the room and see how you let your hair down. Not only that but unfortunately the guy with the bruises who left this morning painted a very colourful picture of you -- and was very indiscreet. I'll put thing right," the man promised, "Meanwhile, would you like a drink?"

Gemma thanked the man but chatted awhile to him before excusing herself - he leaving his two colleagues entertaining the men from the Trade Delegation.

"This would never happen with a man would it? If a man had 'had a party' would he be expected to be on offer to anyone and everyone the following morning -- does every man here now expect that I'm obliged to make myself available should they fancy a piece of me?"

The man refused tactfully to get drawn into an argument about the sexes but did make a point.

"Well, they probably think that as your husband allows you to 'swing' a bit in his presence, and as they saw how you were enjoying yourself last night -- you might be looking forward to having another evening of similar entertainment -- given that you're a free bird tonight." The man smiled with a twinkle in his eye adding, "And who can blame them for trying -- you're a very sexy looking lady?"

Gemma felt her cheeks blush, wondering how the hell she, a regular, simple-living housewife, had finished up being viewed as a sex object. She tried to hide the sudden feeling of shock that had come over her, as her mind rapidly replayed the events of the night before.

Awkwardly, and feeling out of her depth the housewife explained how she had come to be there in the first place -- how this was an experience that was way out of character. The man listened intently but smiled wickedly when he pointed out how Gemma had nevertheless enjoyed herself; she chose not to respond.

They talked a while more about less controversial subjects until Gemma decided to go back to her room and wait for Jim's call and to read that book. She had though felt compelled to eye up the other men, not least the big Nigerians, seeing the lust and desire in the way they let their gaze drift over her, undressing her with their eyes.

"I'll be off now," she told her companion, smiling.

"Well, if you get bored and change your mind...!" said the man, "Come back down and spend the evening in our company. We're having a private little gathering later in a side room with some other business contacts -- you're welcome to come and join us." Again he wore a wicked grin, "Who knows, you may even find yourself curious to know if it's true what they say about black men!"

Gemma blushed, but laughed, no longer feeling indignation, be it genuine or contrived.

"Really!" she said, walking away, "You're terrible!"

The evening passed slowly with Jim's call coming late. Gemma in her impatience had knocked back a couple of large G and T's, but most annoying of all was that the book she had intended settling with proved to be very boring. Or maybe she had trouble concentrating; her mind dwelt on other matters. She didn't need to stay in her room alone -- Jim had said he was off to meet some of his managers in a club, sort out the problem, and decide on the strategy. Why a club, she wondered? Wasn't that the club were he'd met 'that woman'?

How many women had there been since they wed, anyway? Jim often got to enjoy the company of other women in his business. Maybe, if she went downstairs and attended that party -- it would give her a great insight into how Jim behaves -- all she would need to do is note the behaviour of the other men. Are these events really about business? Of course she would be justified in trying to find out. In fact, she was already showering, thinking of what she might wear. There was nothing wrong in looking glamorous was there, sexy even? Dress the part and see how the men react, she thought! For a moment Gemma felt a need to examine her motives, she wondered why it mattered that she take so long to decide on the preferred choice of lingerie, who was going to see it? Her heart beat a little faster but she pushed unwholesome thoughts out of her mind.

A half hour later, Gemma entered the smallest of the hotel's function rooms, nervous due to being without an escort. She had no need to worry as the smart man glided along side her.

"I know you're Gemma -- I'm Peter -- thought it a good idea if you at least knew my name!" he smiled.

The housewife laughed, already feeling comfortable; she would have a pleasant time.

In spite of her lack of knowledge of business matters Gemma mixed in well, circulating and getting into long chatty conversations with both men and women. More than once she had turned to meet the dark penetrating eyes of the tallest of the black men seeing how he focused down the front of her pale coloured silky blouse. Not that it stopped her from talking to him, allowing him to feast his eyes on her cleavage as they chatted away. The party eventually took on a more casual air, with music and dancing and Gemma accepted several invitations from interested men.

Peter came across frequently making sure she was okay, filling her in on the various characters of interest. A particular glamorous woman apparently was one of the most astute of businesswomen she was told. Gemma later saw her slope off with a couple of men whose expressions gave away their game.

"She 's a demon in the boardroom," said Peter, "But she makes no secret of her sexual preferences. Soon she will be indulging in macho/sadism with those guys. There's another man in here -- I won't mention his name -- who likes nothing better than watch his wife with men that he selects."

Peter leaned over and whispered, "So you see -- if you decide to play -- well you won't be the only one here!"

"Are you propositioning me?" Gemma asked.

"Hardly!" he said, "No offence to you -- but I'd be more likely to proposition your husband -- being as I'm gay! I'm just letting you know that many here work hard and play hard -- and that includes the women.

Gemma laughed wondering why she felt disappointment at his revelation -- she had warmed to Peter. His words echoed in her head, 'Should you decide to play'. Who would she play with -- would she even dare to play?

Now her nerves were on edge, for she had felt safe in believing the other guests would leave her alone while Peter was seen to be her chaperone. Now her cool was shattered and she felt vulnerable, available. If other male guests knew Peter was gay then she was easy prey, they would see her as an easy pick-up.

Nevertheless, Gemma stayed at the party, enjoying the mixed company, dancing, but being careful to stay with other couples and females. Perhaps she didn't trust herself rather than the predatory males. Inevitably, their came a time when the party thinned out and Gemma realised she was only one of two females left.

"Have you enjoyed yourself?" said a deep voice from behind, as she was busy draining her glass.

Turning to see the big Nigerian man she nodded, before eyeing his equally well-built companion. He introduced the second man with a name she immediately forgot, given the awkward pronunciation.

"I know you like to enjoy the same pleasures as we," the black man said in the stilted accent of many an educated African attempting to find the right words and sound middle class English. "We would be very pleased if you come back to our room for a final drink."

Gemma looked visibly shocked by his blatant direct approach; not only by the insinuation but his use of the word 'we'. What an amazing 'chat-up' line, was her thought! Her nerves rattled and stomach turned, her heart went into overdrive as her brain gave his words their real meaning.

"Come to our room and have sex with us both!" was what they really meant.

She didn't, and couldn't, answer; instead she tried to come to terms with the confusion felt as her inner devil invoked a wanton and decadent sense of excitement that fought against her natural reaction. She felt silly even, realising that the men were talking but she was not hearing, because she was flippantly thinking it would be her opportunity to actually experience for herself whether the cocks of black men deserved their reputation.

"What is it you are drinking?" asked the Nigerian, "We can take a bottle to our room."

Gemma's automatic answer to such a question was always to explain that she didn't drink much and her long glass of white wine was really mostly soda water.

"Ah, very good!" laughed the big black man, "You don't require and rely upon alcohol to enhance the pleasurable experiences of life!"

The room was now almost empty, as the last guests diverted the attention of the men to say goodnight Gemma quietly drifted away to take the staircase to her room. She met the young barman from the night before in the lobby and beckoned him over.

"Could you do me a favour," she bid, "Save me hanging around at the desk? Will you make sure I get an early call in the morning? My husband will be back sometime tomorrow before noon and I want to be up and ready chance he turns up very early."

"I understand," he said, with a knowing look.

Gemma wanted to explain he probably had quite the wrong impression but she was still fighting those inner demons and wanted to hurry away. She climbed the cold twisting stairway up to her floor.

Slipping through the fireproof door into the corridor she found herself amid a group of rowdy guests who had just alighted from the elevator. Gemma didn't even look up but was forced to follow their slow pace as they blocked her way. Then one voice caused her body to tense; the deep rise and fall of an African who pronounced every syllable as though each was a separate word.

She followed in a daze, not noticing that the group disappeared into various rooms -- and she was left again with the two black men. One carried a bottle; the label said it was soda water. It seemed they had decided that she would accept their invitation to fuck!

"All are away to their beds," said the Nigerian Trade official, "And the few that are not will not care what other people are doing. No one will know."

As he spoke Gemma became aware that he his companion had unlocked the door to Suite No 2. Where they stood they almost blocked the corridor, but she was by no means obese and could easily have walked around the big black bodies.

"Goodnight! No thank you," was all she needed to have said.

But Gemma now did not think -- her brain did not function in its logical, rational, conscious way. The door swung open, nothing was said -- Gemma, feeling her heart beating so hard it almost hurt her chest turned to her left -- and into the room. She heard the door close, followed by the turning of the key in the lock.

"I will pour you a white wine and you can add the soda water to your liking," said the black man. "You are very nervous -- perhaps I'd better pour for you. You will soon relax -- and enjoy the rest of the evening." Normally Gemma found the gentle touch of fingers massaging her neck and shoulders very relaxing. The companion with the impossible name was massaging her now but it was making her nerves go on edge and her breathing laboured. She took a glass from Delegate, staring at the shimmering, tiny bubbles, then watched as he threw off his jacket and loosened his tie; her eyes became glued on the growing bulge in the front of his trousers, the thick, long, truncheon-like appendage that continued to swell. The material around her chest and shoulders suddenly became slack; Companion was unzipping her dress.

As her outer clothing fell to the floor Gemma's instinct was to protest but she was silenced by the sight of Delegate who, after swiftly discarding his trousers felt the long outline of his massive penis beneath his underwear. She was riveted and when hands came from her rear to cup her breasts she did nothing but draw in breath deep and slow.

"I like nylon stockings -- and silky lingerie!" exclaimed Delegate. "First I would like to watch."

Gemma didn't understand what he meant though it made her conscious that she was standing before this black stranger in stockings and suspenders, flimsy panties and bra only. Her nipples had become hard and as she glanced down she saw big black fingers, with a deceptively gentle touch stimulating the very tips, then they rolled the red tits between finger and thumb.

Her eyes returned to Delegate's crotch and she found herself wishing he would pull out his weapon and allow her to see it in all its glory. The wish was granted when Companion dropped his hand to the gusset of her panties and poked a big black finger inside the hem to feel her damp cunny. Delegate smiled approvingly and tugged down the waistband of his shorts to uncover a monster dick that sprung up toward the ceiling. Gemma gave a cry and gasp and wriggled her hips involuntarily, pushing her belly against Companions arm and hand.

"Take her into the bedroom!" he ordered.

A minute later Gemma was laid on a bed, resting on her elbow nervously awaiting the second big African to strip naked. When his wide glistening chest cast a shadow over her she saw that his penis, long, swollen and stiffened by the blood filled veins was easily a match for Delegate's.

"Suck my friend!" demanded the watcher, slowly drawing up the foreskin of his cock.

Gemma felt a desire, a longing to be able to hold both dicks in her hands, to examine each member in detail. Leaving caution to chance she reached out and closed her fingers around the nearby shaft and turned its bulbous purple head toward her mouth. She doubted her ability to take the monster between her lips but she was now eager to try. The devil in her was taking over; she reasoned in her head that since her husband had been so unfaithful how she was entitled to do the same. Her tongue licked the black man's piss hole.

Pumping the cock she worked her wrist to rapidly slide the black shiny foreskin up and down the hard shaft.

"Open wide!" a voice said.

She half closed her eyes and let the tip enter her facial orifice tasting tiny drops of fluid, pre-cum, mixed with piss. The sweaty musky odour of man filled her nostrils as she moved her face toward the big man's belly, his cock reaching the back of her throat.

Hands began to pull down her panties while fingers tickled her cunt. At first it didn't occur to her to ask herself whom the fingers belonged to, then she realised with horror that they could not possibly belong to either man present. With the large torso of Companion blocking her view while his weight prevented her from forcing her body upright all she could do was stop sucking and voice her concern.

"What's going on?"

Her knickers were off.

"Keep sucking!" ordered Companion, forcing his cock back between her lips. It was too late to clamp her legs together as right away her vagina was invaded and filled, her legs held wide apart, her feet raised in the air. It happened so fast -- she was being fucked by a third person, unable to protest as a hard dick blocked her mouth. This was what Delegate had wanted to watch -- a white housewife being gang-banged by his black friends. She was shocked and ashamed, and felt delightfully depraved. Gemma sucked obediently on the cock -- and thrust her hips against the unknown penis that was fucking her. To her delight she was at last experiencing how it felt for her sex-hole to be filled by a black man with a monster penis.

When Companion thrust into her mouth she held his foreskin back down toward the base of his shaft and made him grimace as her teeth grazed over his tender parts. It was too much for him to bear and withdrawing he impatiently wanked his cock over her face, covering her with his sperm.

Now Gemma, able to see who owned the dick that was shagging her, smirked and wrapped her legs around his waist. Still smirking she looked Delegate in the eye, noticing he was still slowly playing with his weapon happy for now just to watch. When her lover shot his load inside her pussy she had a moments respite, waiting, expecting Delegate to take the final fuck.

"Any of you guys care to make use of this insatiable cunt?"

Gemma, right away wondered why the Nigerian's English had improved immensely over the last few minutes and even taken on a different accent making him sound West Indian. She had been fooled -- but for what reason. A further unexpected surprise came from the 'guys', three men, who unknown to her had been in the next room, and who now wandered in the bedroom, to see her laid legs spread and ready, naked aside from stockings and bra.

The first one to strip off pulled to her feet and obeying the instructions of Delegate entered her in a standing position lifting her feet from the ground.

"Fuck her arse!" was the call.

Now she begged and screamed until her cries where muffled with a scarf. Held impaled on a black dick her anus was exposed while greasy fingers oiled her brown hole. Dull guttural sounds where heard as a lubricated cock worked its way into her shithole -- then the pistons thundered away, fucking her in both holes. Part of Gemma's brain switched off.

Her arse seemed a favourite hole though her cunt was seldom empty, until eventually, with sperm dripping from every orifice she was unceremoniously flung onto the bed. A big shadow blocked out the light -- Delegate was now about to take his turn.

"Lick my arsehole!" he commanded, straddling her and covering her face with his black underside. "Lick my arsehole and suck my big black balls."

Gemma had gone into sex slave mode and simply obeyed. She found brief moments of sanity as she caught a glimpse of Delegate's long shaft and decided having it inside her cunt was preferable to the pain it would certainly cause should it be up her arse. Her tongue licked the brown hole and tried to find its way in -- she sucked happily on the shaven testicles that hung down over her face. Maybe she would be able to manipulate him and get her own way.