A Cuckold, Two Blondes, and BBC

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"I wanna fuck you again," Nathaniel groaned. "Take some time to suck Philip's cock," he muttered. "Taste your cunt on him."

Emma gasped and spluttered when Nathaniel eased his length from her gullet. She reached for it and worked her fist along the glistening shaft, reluctant to let it go.

"He's doing a good job back there," she mumbled, eyes like slits as she licked the big dome of the cock-head. "It feels good, him in my pussy ... Why do we have to change?"

Emma glanced back over a shoulder, squirming around, breasts swaying as she craned her neck and grinned at Philip.

"'Cause I'm gonna come soon," grunted Nathaniel. "And I want to let it go inside you."

The thought of his wife taking the man's semen inside her body made David groan. That was too much. Nathaniel was already bareback inside his wife -- why did he have to compound the humiliation David felt by coming in Emma's pussy?

"No," he mumbled. "Please, Emma, don't let him do it."

But, despite his protest, David still yanked at his cock. He sat in the chair and wanked, staring at the bed while Philip's cock, smeared with foamy residue -- testament to Emma's ardour -- slid out of her.

Desperate for the sensation of a being filled to the brim with cock to continue, Emma rolled onto her back. She opened her legs and snarled at Nathaniel to climb aboard.

The man went to her, quickly easing himself into position before his cock slid into Emma's body.

They were soon rutting, both Emma and Nathaniel grunting and moaning, obscene squelches coming from their conjunction -- white woman's pussy tightly packed with black cock -- while Philip offered Emma his length to suck.

"Yeah," Nathaniel grunted, thrusting deep. "Fuck," he groaned, thrusting again.

"I'm coming," Emma squealed when Nathaniel pushed deep into her for a third, and then a fourth, time. "You're coming, too!" she wailed. "I can feel your cock throbbing."

Nathaniel groaned and held himself above Emma's torso as he pushed as deep as he could into her, jizm spurting out of him to flood the woman's insides.

As soon as Nathaniel's cock ceased spitting he eased it out of the woman, Philip replacing him immediately.

A minute of frantic fucking, loud, wet slurps of displaced semen, while Emma mumbled and groaned and squirmed, her climax rolling on and blurring into another. Philip gave a mighty groan and, with Nathaniel's gloop dribbling down the crease between Emma's buttocks, shuddered and came, his semen pouring out of him to mix with the deposit already inside Emma.

"Fuck," David grunted when Philip rolled away from Emma. He could see semen glistening at his wife's opening, her cunt all scarlet and shiny with spunk. "Oh fuck ... Emma ... They came inside you..."

Jizm spat from the eye of David's cock. He tugged at himself, moaning and gasping, his eyes locked on the viscous ooze that dribbled from his wife's gaping opening while his own semen sprayed over his clothes.

Through it all Emma writhed on the bed, her fingers mushing around her vulva, rubbing her clitoris as she came for a third time.

Less than two minutes later, without cleaning themselves at all, their cocks sticky with semen and Emma's juices, the smell of sex clinging to them, Nathaniel and Philip left the room without a backward glance.

"Oh God, Emma..." David breathed. He was still in the chair, too shocked too move. "What have you done? They both fucked you without a condom. They both came. I can't believe you let two strangers do that." David's tone was incredulous, face slack with disbelief now the heat of the moment had passed.

His wife lay there, still breathing hard, her legs wide, pussy leaking cum.

She reached down between her legs and felt her vulva all slippery with her arousal and two copious deposits of jizm.

"You wanted it," Emma mumbled. "I told you to remember that. This is all your fault. You brought this on."

Two -- A Queen of Spades Tattoo

From the upstairs window of the house, the bedroom she shared with David, Emma looked down on to the street below. To her eye it was the usual suburban scene: a well-to-do cul-de-sac in the Home Counties; middle-class; three- and four-bedroom homes, some semi- some fully detached, all with garages. Emma stood there deep in thought, struggling to reconcile the stultifying parochial setting with who she had become. She looked around at her neighbours' homes and wondered if any of them had behaved the same way she had.

It had been a month since the episode in the Premier Inn near Tower Bridge, four weeks and a bit since she'd given herself to the forceful, dynamic black man. She hadn't allowed David near her in the time since. The experience had altered her.

Emma was dressed ready to go. Had been for an hour.

David had left for work at the usual time of half-past-six. If anyone had seen him they wouldn't recognise any difference in him at all. Outwardly they were the same couple, no sign of the change between them. He set off in the Audi at the same time every weekday morning, returned home a few minutes before six in the evening. They did the same run to Asda and Sainsbury's on Thursdays night. Emma spent Tuesday and Friday afternoons as usual, volunteering in the Age UK charity shop in the precinct. The weekend just past they had visited Emma's mother in Derbyshire. There were evenings in the pub, quiz nights; a meal in the Indian restaurant. Nobody would guess from the way they behaved that the relationship between Emma and David was fundamentally changed.

At the window Emma sighed and considered lighting a cigarette, then decided against it -- Nathaniel didn't approve. She squirmed with anticipation, eager to see him, to hear his voice and smell his unique scent -- the simple maleness of him. But Emma was also dubious about the day ahead, still harboured misgivings at what she was doing.

Then she saw the car and everything was suddenly all right.

Philip drove south. Emma sat beside him in the big silver Mercedes as they made their way down the A1. At South Mimms Philip took the slip road on to the M25. They moved east from the approximate twelve o'clock position of the orbital motorway, using the road only as far as the M11 junction at roughly one o'clock. There they continued south until the motorway seemed to peter out, the signs showing place names that Emma was oddly familiar with but which she had never before visited. At a roundabout choked with traffic, a petrol station to the left, Philip eased the car across several lanes, drifting across as they followed the roundabout's curve, amid the chaos. Philip took a line leading to the A12 towards East London. Emma recognised the pyramid top of Canary Wharf, the light blinking at the pointed apex in the distance as, with a jolt of surprise, she realised that it was the Olympic site sliding by on her left. She was in Stratford -- run down despite the extensive construction project of the 2012 games, a busy, anonymous concrete jungle where, beyond the tinted safety of the Mercedes windows, red double-decker buses belched diesel fumes and people avoided eye contact.

"Is this it?" asked Emma when Philip pulled over to the kerb. They were in a quiet street, a blank-faced, much-tagged block of crumbling maisonettes in front of the car.

Emma wasn't impressed. This wasn't what she was used to. She didn't like the look of patchy grass, cracked pavement with weeds sprouting up everywhere, wheelie-bins on their sides, graffiti emblazoned walls and a palpable air of menace. To her it felt like a setting for some gritty police drama on television -- drug dealers, prostitutes and violence.

"Yeah," Philip drawled. "This is the place."

Emma hesitated when Philip climbed out of the car, reluctant to leave the security of her cocoon. She wondered what the hell she had let herself in for.

But, with some trepidation, following an impatient hand gesture from Philip, she got out and stood there, eyes wide as she tried to look everywhere at once.

"Aren't you going to lock the car?" Emma asked as Philip sauntered away towards one of the blocks.

"No need for that," Philip replied. "Nobody round here will bother. They know who we are."

Emma glanced at the car and then looked around once more, took in the seediness of her surroundings and decided she didn't want to know the reason for Philip's confidence regarding the safety and security of what had to be sixty thousand pounds worth of German engineering in such a place. She turned her attention to Philip just in time to see him disappear through a doorway.

"Wait," Emma called, hurrying in Philip's wake.

A slim, very pretty woman with straight hair in platinum-blonde bob that fell to the line of her jaw opened a door at Philip's knock.

"Hiya," she said, trilling a greeting as bright as her smile. "You must be Emma, I'm Tia ... It's good to meet you."

Emma blinked, stunned by this jewel in a dung heap. She took in the spaghetti strapped crop-top, flat midriff with a glint of jewellery at the navel, and a denim skirt which was little more than a belt. Surprised, Emma dimly registered the woman to be slightly younger than herself -- late twenties, early thirties she estimated.

She shook Tia's proffered hand in an automatic gesture before the blonde stepped back and invited her and Philip across the threshold.

"Come in," Tia offered, turning away to walk into the house.

Emma found herself standing there, Philip waiting behind, waiting as Emma gawped at the woman's long legs, pert, round buttocks and swaying hips.

"Come on in!" Tia called, spurring Emma into movement.

Emma stepped inside. Philip followed and shut the door behind him.

Emma looked around, stunned by the contrast. The inside of the flat was impressive: walls painted in pastel shades, modern furniture in the living room, a huge television -- one of the biggest Emma had ever seen -- mounted on a bracket, surround sound speakers, a BOSE music system. Someone had spent money on the place.

Nathaniel lounged on a low two-seater sofa. He grinned up at Emma. "Welcome," he said, gesturing with wide arms as though inviting Emma to comment on the décor.

"I thought we'd be at a hotel," Emma said. "Like the other times."

Nathaniel shrugged. "This place is better," he said. "More private than a hotel. I wanna move your education along a little."

Emma blinked. "What do you mean?" she asked.

The flat wasn't what she had expected. On the two occasions she and Nathaniel and Philip had met since their first encounter, they had done so at a Premier Inn near Stevenage. Emma had been unable to resist the temptation of illicit, incredible sex with two black men and had continued the affair, making contact -- as Nathaniel had somehow known she would -- via the email address on the shared computer at home.

So why were they in this house? What was Tia doing there?

Nathaniel smirked and winked. "You'll see," he replied in response to Emma's question. "All in good time. We got things cooking today."

Emma shivered, a delicious thrill of fear and anticipation tickling her spine with feathery fingers. Her stomach flipped. She could feel, despite her misgivings and the strangeness of her surroundings, a dribble of arousal siping from her. She felt safe with Nathaniel and Philip, trusted them. Regardless of their menacing demeanour Emma sensed that she was safe with the two men. All she had to do was play the game.

"You met Tia." Nathaniel said.

Emma nodded. "Yes."

"You like her? You think she's pretty?"

A shrug from Emma. "I suppose," she said, putting on a front despite the slow realisation of where Nathaniel was leading.

"You wanna watch her suck Philip's cock?"

Emma gave a gasp at the casual lewdness of Nathaniel's suggestion. Lust, already simmering, bubbled like hot milk on a stove. The thought of Philip's long, dark cock in the platinum blonde's mouth made Emma squirm.

"She's dirty," Nathaniel added. He chuckled and shook his head. "She's a very pretty girl, an angel to look at..." He paused and grinned at Tia as she walked toward him at his signal. "But the mouth on her..." Nathaniel rolled his eyes, his hand sliding along Tia's leg, up towards the hem of her very brief skirt. "She's noisy. Mouthy. Likes to tell everyone what she wants and how good it is when she gets it. Don't you, Tia?" Nathaniel looked up at the woman as his hand went higher.

"I can't help it," Tia replied. "Black cock makes me so fucking horny..."

Distracted as she was, desire clenching a fist in her guts, her pussy oiling, Emma had a vague sense of Tia's accent. She recognised something regional, an accent from one of the old soaps on television. Definitely North of England, most likely Liverpool, she decided as Tia continued.

"...I love sucking black cock. I love it when you boys fuck me." She smirked and eyed Emma, her expression a challenge. The look was a dare. Tia was testing the newcomer.

"So go and suck Philip's dick," Nathaniel said to Tia. He waved a hand dismissively, fingers flicking towards Philip.

"C'mon, Phil," Tia said. She threw a final glance at Emma. "Get it out. Let's put on a bit of a show for our guest."

When Emma felt something touch her fingers she glanced down. Nathaniel's hand had touched hers.

"Sit down next to me," he said, patting the leather seat next to him. "Come on. Sit down. Let's watch."

Emma sat, back upright, knees together, unnerved by the situation. She didn't know how she felt about sharing the men with another woman. Emma was most definitely jealous.

She heard Nathaniel chuckle as she stared at the couple in the centre of the room.

"Relax," Nathaniel crooned.

Emma jumped at the touch of his hand on her leg.

"Watch and learn," he added.

"Don't you like it?" Tia asked Emma as she knelt in front of Philip and unzipped the fly of his jeans. She hauled forth the long dark length and stroked it, her eyes on Emma. "I fucking love it." Tia's hand worked slowly. "I fucking love black cock. They're so fucking big!"

Emma sucked a breath in through her nose when Tia's tongue flicked over the head of Philip's cock.

The man groaned and Tia giggled.

"I mean, just look at this big fucker." Tia's used both hands against the chocolate length. Then she held it still and popped her lips around the pale dome. Her cheeks dipped inwards, concave as she sucked.

Emma sighed and squirmed, heat flaring between her legs. "Oh God," she moaned, captivated by what she saw. It was her own live sex show, and she liked it.

Nathaniel lifted his buttocks from the seat and, arched awkwardly, hips thrust up while he yanked the loose Adidas tracksuit bottoms to his thighs.

Emma glanced at Nathaniel's cock and automatically leaned in close, her fingers closing around the girth of that appendage as she continued to stare at Tia and Philip.

"Yeah," groaned Nathaniel, "stroke my dick. Watch that bitch suck."

"Kiss me," Emma sighed. She offered her mouth to her lover, one hand caressing him while she wriggled about and hauled her underwear down with her free hand. She yanked the hem of her skirt up with an impatient grunt, sliding a finger between her labia as she sucked at Nathaniel's tongue.

"Look at you," Tia giggled. "It didn't take you long to get in the party mood."

Emma broke away and looked up at Tia, on her feet by that time, the blonde standing there with a hand on one hip, head canted towards her shoulder. Philip was next to Tia, one of her hands jacking his cock.

"Can I lick your pussy?" asked Tia, her eyes slits.

And, before Emma could answer, as Philip ragged himself out of his clothes, while Nathaniel chuckled, the blonde dropped to her knees and eased Emma's legs apart.

Caught by surprise -- this was a first for her -- but with her libido revving, Emma gulped and stared down to where Tia's fingers held her wide open.

"Get behind me, Phil," said Tia, her voice thick and dark. "Fuck me doggy. Fuck me with that big fucking cock while I lick pussy."

Sprawled across the sofa, her torso laid across Nathaniel, his cock in her immobile fist, Emma groaned and let Tia have her.

The blonde's tongue slid through Emma's slit from anus to clitoris, flicking over the taut nub while she slid the tip of her forefinger around the opening to Emma's body.

"Oh fuck," Emma heard Tia grunt, and when she looked down across Tia's back she saw Philip kneeling there, fingers digging into the blonde's hips.

It was obvious from the look on Philip's face and the long, low groan coming out of Tia that Philip was easing his length into her body. At the sight and sound of two people fucking Emma experienced a sudden desperate urge to have her own pussy filled with dark meat.

"This is wonderful," Emma mumbled. She dragged her eyes from Tia's face down between her legs and, swivelling her gaze, stared up at Nathaniel. "I can't believe this is happening," she breathed.

"This is just the beginning," Nathaniel replied. "We got all day for it." His fingers touched Emma's chin as he leaned in to kiss her mouth. In the second before their lips touched, a moment or two prior to Nathaniel's tongue invaded her mouth, while Tia lapped at Emma's clit and fingered her opening, with Philip grunting and thrusting, Nathaniel added, "And there's more to come. In a little while ... There's a surprise coming for you."

Tia's face was tilted towards the ceiling, her eyes squeezed closed. Her mouth hung open as she groaned her pleasure, Philip behind her, his own head rolling.

Emma was rubbing herself by that time, a climax bubbling as she stared at Tia's twisted features.

"You're going to come?" breathed Emma.

Tia's eyes opened at the question. She blinked, bleary eyes focussing all of a sudden.

"Yeah," the woman groaned. "I'm gonna come. I'm so fucking horny."

Somehow, during their brief joining, while Philip thrust and probed at Tia's body, the blonde's skimpy tank-top had slipped. Emma saw Tia's fake tits that, despite being manufactured, swung and wobbled like the real thing. They were full and round, slightly oversized in relation to the girl's slight frame, an effect that caught the eye and made men salivate. Pink nipples stuck up from tight coins of their areola, the teats an obvious indicator of Tia's arousal.

"You're gorgeous," Emma mumbled. "So lovely."

"Told you," Nathaniel said, with his arm around Emma's shoulder. His thick cock lay across his abdomen, neglected by Emma as she watched in awe, her own desire hot and bubbling between her legs. "Tia's an angel to look at but she's a nasty bitch when she lets it go. You'll see what I mean later."

The question was on Emma's lips, on the cusp of being voiced. What did Nathaniel mean -- Later? And what surprise did he have in mind?

But Emma was distracted by a loud shout from Philip. She forgot all about asking Nathaniel to clarify his meaning when, with another grunt from Philip and a yelp of appreciation from Tia, the black man pulled away from the blonde's body.

"On my arse!" Tia shouted. She twisted around, her tight waist creasing, her breasts rising as she looked back over one shoulder. "Come on my arse."

Philip yanked at his cock, pulling it while the breath hissed out of him, his face a clench-teethed mask of intent.

Suddenly, with another yell, as his body tensed, muscles locking with the effort, viscous goo flicked out of his cock. The stuff arced high, a steep-angled parabola of jizm that, after hanging for half a second in the air at its apogee, then spattered down onto Tia's skin. Just as that first jet landed another spurt squirted high, Philip's yanking fist altering its course so the gloop landed on the insignificant scrap of denim that Tia had worn as a skirt, the material bunched around her waist.

Philip grunted and groaned while further gouts of semen poured out of him, the stuff raining down.