A Dark Awaking

A Dark Awaking

Mary the Wollstonecraft Woman

© Copyright 2023 by Mary the Wollstonecraft Woman

This is a work of fiction and not intended to promote a lifestyle. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to any person, living or dead, is merely coincidental.

A Dark Awaking

Shocked, jealous, humiliated, and angry described my reaction. But shamefully and strangely excited, so very excited.

Someone we knew for only four weeks invited my wife and I invited us to a cookout. I knew that my wife, Chris, had been fucking around. She never told me, but word gets around. I knew a few of my friends fucked her. But I loved her dearly, and I looked the other way.

After we got to our friend's home for the cook-out, there were three other fellows present who had supposedly dropped by unannounced. All the other guests, like Dewayne, were black. Still, I thought nothing of this. Everyone was friendly, and we were having a good time. Our friend offered us mixed drinks, and we started imbibing freely. I took a sip of his drink. It was good. Not too sweet, not too strong.

This odd sensation came over me. This dreadful wooziness swept over me. I staggered to a chair and sat. Rubbing my head, I glanced at my wife, talking to our friend, laughing, touching him. She flittered with Rob. Some turned on music and jacked the volume all the way up.

As the party was in the country, it wouldn't disturb anyone.

Music made me want to scream. The beat and rhythm created a desire to die. The melody became loud and distorted, drowning out the voices and laughter of everyone else. The music pounded in my ears like a jackhammer, the thumping bass causing my chair to vibrate, rattling my bones and my teeth.

In a few seconds, Chris and Dewayne clutched each other and danced. They moved with synchronicity of purpose, touching and caressing each other. The dance turned absolutely nasty, and Chris gazed at, daring me to do something.

My lily-white wife dirty danced with a black man. A man we knew less than a month. Anger flared, and I tried to stand, but only fell back into the lawn chair.

My wife and Dewayne danced as if on fire. I saw and felt the blazes engulfing them. The flickering, swirling flames around their bodies made me more dazed. Everything went black except for a few tiny pinpoints of the two of them swirling in and out of the darkness.

Chris looked like a whore. Her nipples were hard and stuck out like fountain pen tips, and she had a large wet spot form on her tight shorts. She was constantly wriggling her body against him, touching Dewayne's arm, his leg, his face, touching her own breasts.

The bulge in Dewayne's pants scared the sit out of me. My wife rubbed her ass against the bulge. The other men hooted and cheered, looking over at me with pity or disgust.

The taste in my mouth was nasty. It was like the taste of someone else's breath had been there, but not mine. I was sick, angry, hurt. Paralyzed from whatever was in my drink, and perhaps, fear as well.

I knew I couldn't do anything without getting hurt or killed. I felt no anger toward Dewayne. My anger was toward my wife for being such a slut. I stared in disbelief at the way she was acting, the way she was dancing and acting.

I couldn't take my eyes off them, watching the two of them rubbing against each other, the groping and caressing. I wanted to be sick. I wanted to scream. Nothing came up, but I felt my belly growling and threatening to toss what was there.

Suddenly, Chris dropped to her knees and started unzipping Dewayne's pants.

My heart raced. Her eyes were triumphant as she turned and looked at me. She knew what she was doing; she was in charge. Chris knew I wanted this.

Chris fished out this massive prick from Dewayne's trousers. Black glistening, like a shaft of veined steel. On her face, I saw this reverential gaze, as if a god stood before with a hard cock demanding worship.

I'd never seen Chris like that before. She looked like a different person. She looked feisty. She was being taken forcefully, and it made her eyes glow with an inner fire I'd never seen before.

The blackened shaft and swollen head of Dewayne's cock shone like obsidian in the candlelight.

Thrusting, pulsating, swelling, bobbing, ready to burst the skin.

She slid her hand over the head of his cock, her palm smearing the wetness that had leaked out of the tip. Chris grabbed his cock at the base, his skin so thick and smooth.

Chris took a finger and stroked the shaft as she rubbed it against her cheek like she was stroking a kitten or a puppy. She flicked her tongue out and licked the tip, laughing and giggling like a schoolgirl.

Growling and smacking of lips as it enters the mouth, slurping and sucking, swallowing and gulping. She engulfed as much of his dick as best she might. Her lips, warm, soft, pliable, skin stretched taut and smooth around his elephantine cock.

The other three men gathered around, one leered at me. This declaration of victory of black men over a white cuck stung deep. I trembled with disgrace, fear, and more than a little anticipation. The men took out their black cocks. Two men endowment was impressive. But the third man's prick was short, but bigger around than I'd ever seen.

The men's whackers thrust out at Chris's eye level. Without breaking her stride, Chris took her fingers and stroked the fattest shaft. Wrapping her tiny hand almost around it, she rubbed the magnum girth against her cheek like she was stroking a kitten or a puppy.

Pulling away from Dewayne's prick, Chris flicked her tongue out and licked the tip, laughing and giggling like a schoolgirl. Turning to Mister Circumference and took the hole fat six or seven inches to her mouth.

Grabbing her head, he pulled her face tight to his crotch. His eyes rolled back, and he groaned. Her mouth filled to overflow, with cock, with cum. It exploded around her lips and splashed on his pants.

In my mind, Chris was a dark, sensual water nymph, her eyes the color of pale emeralds in the moonlight. Her hair hung behind her like an unending waterfall. It wasn't clear if Chris turned to water some wild grape hanging by cum thread to a black prick.

One at a time, the other two men took turns with her mouth. All the while, Dewayne stood there, rubbing his dick, waiting to use her. The first man moved and sat by me. His cock, deflated, was bigger around than mine, while hard, by three times.

Leaning into me, the older man snarled into my ear, "You a natural, boy. You were born to watch other men fuck your bitch."

My cock throbbed uncontrollably. My erection was visible and glaring, pressing a small tent into my pants as I looked down. I was smashed into nothingness. A choky lump of tears streamed down my face. My shoulders shook as I sobbed in humiliating defeat. Everyone heard my anguished cry, muffled by hands over mouth. A strangled whine that begged for mercy, but I realize these men have none.

The older man chuckled, a long throaty laugh. My shame pleased him.

After an hour, both the other men had blasted their cum over her face, t-shirt, and hair twice each. And Dewayne stood next to them, just keeping hard.

Chris ate up all the cum she could, cleaned her top with her tongue, she tossed to the side and stripped out of her shorts and thong. Chis danced to the music, undressing Dewayne as she did. Until, at last, they fell into the daybed and fucked. My loving wife was salty, wet, raw, ready for the taking. Dewayne and Cris turned into wild animals mating while all the betas watched.

Chris and Dewayne kept fucking each other with their eyes, their bodies, their minds. They forced each other closer and closer to the fire. I knew the flame would eventually consume them and burn away any thought of me. I realized everyone watched the two of them, laughing, joking and snickering, but they didn't dare touch my wife again. Dewayne had warned them she belonged to him now.

To save myself, I need to end this. I tried to stand, but my limbs felt like lead. Day turned to night, and they fucked on. Dewayne bred her, filling her again and again with his seed. He fucked any thought of white from her brain.

His massive cock, drilling into her, his balls slapping a rhematic tune on her ass. Pounding his monster cock deep in her womb. Cleaving her, trying to split her into. With every thrust, Dewayne drove me from her heart and mind.

I don't know how, in my state of perpetual stupor, but my tiny dick spat thick spatters of cum inside my pants. Over and over, watching them, with nothing but visual stimulation, I came. My jeans, wet and nasty, clung to me, revealing my debasement.

The three men hurled cruel, harsh comments about my manliness. Insulting me while they watched the show and jacked off. After a few hours, at sunset, they left. Day turned into night. To me, the woods surrounding us were full of eyes. There were animal eyes in the dark forest. Their eyes shone and I had the crazy idea of them all coming at me. I tried not to imagine this, but I could watch my wife and him any longer.

But try as I might, I couldn't block out the sounds or aromas. I could smell the musk of their sex in the air. It was a tangy, masculine scent. The stench of them was heady when I inhaled and made me want to sniff more. There was a wetness and warmth to it, a scent that seemed to seep into the air and linger.

Thick, pungent, sour, and acrid, musk of sweat and desire and my degradation. At some point, I passed out, still in a stupor. Heat burned in and on my flesh. A weight pressed down on me, making it difficult to breathe. A soft, small hand caressed my limp cock.

"Shit, you're a little bugger," my wife snarled.

My wife lay on top of me on the daybed. I was naked; she was naked. His semen leaked over my leg. The soaked bed under us, nasty wet with their mingled cum, clung to my legs and back.

"Hey, Chris, sweetie, go take a shower and get cleaned up. When you feel rested, darling, well go ride my horses. Hey Stephen, be a good boy, and clean this pig, stye up and do the dishes in the kitchen."

Chris crawled off me, waved over her shoulder as she pranced into the house.

"Dude," I said, standing up and clenching my fist. "You fucked my wife."

"Yeah, for about four hours," he said. Standing, his long fat cock swing between his legs as he approached me. "Now, you're married to her, but she's my pussy. Don't you agree?"

My fist turned to an open hand and shrank by half a foot. "Yes, sir."

"That's a good cracker," Dewayne said. Turning, he walked toward the French doors. "Get busy, boy."

It is impossible for me to explain why I'm happy about this.

theWollstonecraftWoman