Cuckold in the Making

Sam knew this routine: straddle the girl, usually across her butt, while you slathered her back with oil. A particularly talented man could give her a massage while at it, and surreptitiously use application motions that would ensure brushing his fingertips across some tit flesh.

Sam watched as Rupertt took ten minutes to slather up his wife. In the process, the black man would occasionally lean forward to say something in her ear, and each time, she'd smile that innocent grin of hers. No doubt, it was from the combination of what he said plus the press of his big dick right up the crack of her ass. Virgin territory, that hole was for Sam. But somehow he knew Rupertt could find his way in there. Only two thin cloth wraps were preventing it from actually happening right now, and Rupertt was leaning in again, giving her shoulders more focused attention. Her smile widened in response.

Dig it into her, Rupertt. Make her hunger for black cock in every hole. Now THAT would be a total conversion for his wife.

Her first anal fuck. First black cock. First man, other than himself, to enjoy every inch of her naked flesh. First blow job she would provide to someone else after their wedding five years ago. First orgasm from another guy. Sam indulged in protracted thoughts of multiple firsts for TracieLynn, convinced the odds of any of them happening were nearly nonexistent. But her crossing the line into each first would mean newness, loss of some aspect of her virginity, corruption, spoilage even. And it was intoxicating. Indeed, nothing else might come anywhere close to the thrill of a true first time occurrence. Sam stayed riveted on the pair, his cock ready to spring to fully erect state the instant she decided to escalate her actions with Rupertt.

But nothing more happened between them, other than protracted, intimate conversation that dragged out well past the one hour snorkeling session. When they finally got up and collected their towels and gear, Sam hightailed it back to their bungalow to wait, recalling how Rupertt had said that this had to be done at a steady pace.

She came in a little while later and with barely a word, hit the shower. The water ran for over twice as long as one of her typical baths, and when she finally finished, she emerged in a towel and came to sit by him on the bed.

"Sweetheart?"

Her tone begged for full attention and almost by instinct he wanted to drop the magazine he was using as a distraction and take up her hands. But he kept his nose pointed squarely at the rambling article about condo timeshares.

"Sam?"

"Mmmm?"

"Honey, why don't we skip the disco tonight? We could stay here. Have a quiet, relaxing evening together. Or... maybe... maybe not so relaxing or quiet... if you want to, that is."

Vindication!

Did he know his woman or what? Now that's what I'M talking about, Rupertt.

Despite the black wizard's best efforts, she simply wasn't the type. With just one little word from him right now--a simple 'yes'--and it would be toast, Mister Sure Thing. Mister Piece of Cake... Except My Wife's. The cheering erupting in his skull made him feel like turning cartwheels. Although....

Although he really, really wanted to hear Rupertt actually pronounce her as in the bag, so, at that very instant, Sam could then break the bad news to him. Sorry about your third miss there, my man. The odds had to catch up to you, sooner or later, you know. But he wanted that exchange with Rupertt. Wanted to see the disappointment register on that black face.

That left his wife, in a towel only, waiting beside him. He thought fast.

"That's a lovely idea, Honey, but you know, I had my heart really set on seeing you twist around that dance floor and draw some hungry looks tonight. God, that excites me watching you soak up and enjoy all that male attention. I tell you what. Let's go for a while, and maybe we can make it an early night. Meantime, I want you to push it to the max this evening, okay? Let it all out. I mean, you'll be doing it for me in addition to having a blast yourself. Okay?"

Again confusion clouded her face. "But Sam, I just feel like we haven't been--"

"I know. It's been a crazy week, hasn't it? Just like you mentioned it would Monday night. And I've loved every single minute of it."

"You ... you have?"

"Oh, yes! And all from just watching the enjoyment you're having. Can't get enough. That's what matters most to me--what I want more than anything, including tonight."

She got up slowly and went to get dressed, mumbling softly some things he couldn't understand. There was no doubt though that she had taken his request seriously when she announced her readiness to head to dinner. She'd chosen her black micro skirt and black strappy heels. On top, she wore a burgundy halter that fully bared her luscious tummy and naval in which, she had clamped her diamond charm. But the best part was the fact that her perky little breasts were swinging freely under that halter and with the angle cut and looseness of the material encircling her armpits, many men would get several good glimpses of her yummy tits that night.

Including Rupertt. One last time.

But over an hour went by at the disco and still Rupertt hadn't shown. Plenty of other men ogled TracieLynn, especially as she seemed to relax more as the minutes elapsed with only Sam dancing with her. Relaxation, plus a steady supply of rum punch, loosened her inhibitions. Sam, along with any other man in an eight foot radius around, got a great tit show as one or both would sneak free of her halter. She just laughed when it happened and tucked them back in, taking a little longer each time to do so, smiling and winking at Sam as she gave him his requested all-out show.

When Sam's bladder signaled overload, he left her seated at the bar and headed for the toilet. As his piss stream splashed in the scummy water, a beefy fellow stepped up to the adjacent urinal. Immediately the sound of a fire hose unloading assaulted Sam's ears and he glanced at the man beside him.

"I've been holding that for quite a while just waiting for you to come in here." Rupertt continued emptying his bladder.

"W-where've you been?"

"Watching. Letting you take care of your job, which you've done well so far. God, those tits on your wife do amazing things." He tilted his head back at the thought. The splashing actually grew louder, something like Niagara Falls' roar.

Sam finished and zipped. Some skinny turd shouldered him aside to get at the urinal as he stepped out the door. The waterfall's roar was even loud out in the hall, amazingly enough.

A minute later, Rupertt emerged, looking quite satisfied to find Sam waiting.

"I told you that I'd report on the outlook. Well here it is, my man. Tomorrow--Thursday afternoon--that's when she'll give the sign for how soon she'll take my black dick. Which will either be tomorrow night or Friday night for sure."

Rupertt, I--"

"You're interrupting. I don't like that."

Sam gulped.

"Good," Rupert continued. "As I said, tomorrow is the test. I want you to make an excuse to leave us at the pool in the morning. Go away and don't come near us until snorkeling starts at the beach. Then be sure you're down there watching. At some point, we'll kiss for the first time. See how that plays out. If she kisses me lightly and only once, like two cousins do, then we won't fuck until Friday; otherwise, she'll be taking my black cock tomorrow night. You got all that?"

Sam waited.

"You can speak now."

"I'm not sure."

"You're not sure what?"

"That she's going to... take your cock."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Well, earlier today she told me she didn't want to come to the disco tonight. She was hoping that we... she and I... would spend the evening together. That seems to me--"

"Seems to you like I've failed. That's what you're going to say, right?"

Looking at the intensity in the black man's eyes, Sam could only nod.

Snatching his arm, Rupertt dragged Sam out the side door of the disco. He led him a short distance away from the noise over beneath a stand of rustling palm trees before wheeling him around so that they faced each other.

"So the little cuckold thinks his wife is going to stay true, does he?" Rupertt's hard face drew close. "I'm not wrong about her. She's as good as fucked by me, my man."

Rupertt took a long breath and stepped back.

"But for the sake of discussion, let's look at this a different way. You were at the beach today. Don't waste my time denying it--of course you were there watching. No way you could miss it. Stayed the whole time too, just in case something happened between us. And in the end you were disappointed."

Sam started to shake his head.

"Bullshit. As much as you saw us do, you wanted more. And you know what? She did too. No other man has ever been that bold with her. Admit it. No man has ever gotten a good feel of those tits like I did today, and both of you were disappointed it didn't go a lot farther."

"Then why did she--"

"I'll tell you why. It's the very last stage of denial before she gives in completely. She's already decided, and credit goes to you for helping to make sure of that. She knows she's about to transform and this last part of her is trying desperately to hold on and resist. Happens to every wife who's truly devoted, sometimes even right up to the point where my balls first smack on their asses."

The feeling from earlier, his sense of victory and accomplishment, vanished from Sam like a mist in a hurricane's wind. Could it really be?

Rupert studied him in the light from the moon. He made a 'tsk' sound.

"I see now. You've been doing what I told you--listening to that little voice inside. It says: 'She can't possibly do this. It won't happen because she won't let it.' That's real good. Your thrills are all going to come from that voice and I think they'll be big ones for you. So keep that voice going. Don't you squelch it like I'm about to squelch the one left in her head, and your rewards will be tremendous, my man. Think about how you've felt so far every step along the way. That first naked picture of her that I sent back to you coated with my cum. The first time I laid hands on her. The first kiss I'll be taking from her tomorrow. Remember how hard you considered this and decided you wanted it to happen. Needed it to happen. Even this past Monday night, you confirmed it again and then set about ensuring you didn't fuck things up while keeping her firmly on the path to me. You've seen my dick in photos and now seen how I handle her. I swear to you that I will please her and make her experience the joys of her womanhood in ways you never could. She senses that I can, so how could you possibly deny it for her and force her to settle for much less? She deserves it--all woman do--but most especially the one that means so much to you. And if that all isn't enough to convince you, then drop your pants."

"What the fuck?"

"Just pull them down a little so we can check the honest truth. Because I'm betting your little white weenie is hard right now, isn't it?"

Sam started to back away.

"ISN'T IT?"

"Y-yes."

"All right. Keep your pants up, white boy. You've got your answer now, don't you?"

He did, though it shamed him like nothing else. And that was... good. Delicious, even. A part of him screamed the exact opposite but that only increased the prickly pleasure of the realization.

"Okay, now. You're all done dancing with her tonight. My turn. Don't forget about the pool tomorrow and then the beach later. And, of course, under no circumstances do you even touch her tonight. Clear?"

"Perfectly."

In their bungalow after a late night at the disco, subtle was out. Desperate was in. TracieLynn threw herself at Sam but he silently used all of Rupertt's words to immediately and ruthlessly smother any spark of desire in him, something that might have led to her settling for pathetically less than what she deserved. And again in the end he shut off the light and turned away from a confused, hurt, and very frustrated wife. It took her quite a long time to go to sleep. When she finally did, he thought about wanking off again into the toilet, but decided not to, choosing instead to clutch, and not let diminish, the primal urge to see her get fully and utterly blacked.

Thursday, it was as if she'd gone mute. Not one sound came from her the entire morning right up to the point when he announced he was taking off alone. By then Rupertt had arrived and was doing steady, powerful laps from one end of the pool to the other.

"Don't go, Sam," she pleaded, glancing quickly at the pool. "I need you to stay with me today. Please?"

He lied and told her he wouldn't be gone long.

Sam spent lunch thinking instead of eating. The little voice would have him believe that, between last night in bed and her pleading at the pool, Rupertt was, again, way wrong. But for one word from him, TracieLynn could actually be spared--something she desperately wanted: him to save her. Was it just a another cheap thrill though, him thinking that way? Just part of the endless cycle of tease, denial, and reward he kept jerking himself through?

Walking the resort grounds, the feeling intensified that she really, truly needed him to prevent her from doing this. Even with the relentless pushing this week from both him and Rupertt, she just needed him to supply one small tug back in order to safely skirt the edge of this bottomless chasm. He fought with himself over why she should seek to avoid it when, clearly, Rupertt had so much more to offer. But, deeply fulfilling as the blackening experience might be, she still might prefer never to have it in the first place. Might yearn to turn away from forbidden fruit without a single taste of its addictive juices. And, of course, he never asked her, either directly or indirectly, what she really desired for herself. If he forced her to do this, could he ever forgive himself?

His feet picked up the pace until he was running to the beach. There, a small knot of snorkelers paddled in the distance heading for the reef. He turned the opposite direction and followed the contour of the shoreline to the more secluded areas until, around one sharp curve, they came into view. They were standing profile to him, tightly wrapped together, their lips already locked in a slow, protracted kiss.

Too late. The chasm had swallowed her.

The kiss went on without interruption. His wife showed no signs of wanting to end it as the seconds ground by. Somehow, Rupertt must have spotted him out of the corner of his eye, because he turned TracieLynn so her back was facing him. The black man's hands filled the inside of her white bikini, each one clenching and kneading a luscious ass cheek with intense delight. The pair were still kissing deeply when Sam trudged away, unable to watch any longer.

The rest of the afternoon he felt utterly drained and spent. He remained as mute as TracieLynn had been that entire morning. At dinner, she sat across from him, but really she drifted some great distance away, grinning and smirking at nothing, a study of edgy nervousness and unbridled anticipation. Her fingertips constantly brushed her lips, at least once every five minutes, and she shuffled her ass on the seat cushion, grunting softly every time she did and then smirking again. Not once did she address him. Barely did she even look at him. Not that she was being deliberately unkind. Obviously, her mind was consumed.

And why not? Visions of powerful black hands stuffed down her bikini kept swirling in his head as her body wrapped itself around a sculpted ebony idol. A kiss shared only by the most intimate of lovers. A monster black cock awaiting its conquest. Fulfillment of her as a woman, like never before.

How could he have been so wrong?

Heavy makeup, a sleeveless silk blouse, no bra, the black mini, and strappy heels walked silently with Sam to the disco. She'd pegged the slut meter tonight, and she knew it, as evidenced by the runway strut and hip sway he'd never seen her do before. Had Rupertt demanded that of her? Sam suspected as much. This was probably just the start of many changes to come in her, changes that would reach far beyond clothes and demeanor.

The Conversion. Sam knew he was viewing the near climax of an intense work in progress.

Rupertt caught him almost immediately at the disco. The black man's Chinos were crisp and his cotton print shirt fell open to reveal his toned chest and six pack abs. He was loaded with gold bling, including the strange amulet, which he took off and flashed under Sam's nose.

"This is you, my man, after tonight."

The amulet had a big male symbol with its stout arrow poking deeply into a similar size female symbol. On the other side of the female symbol, another male symbol, much smaller and shriveled, sat disconnected, looking forlorn. Yes, indeed, that was him all right. Nothing could prevent it now.

"You can take off," Rupertt commanded. "Your services are not required any longer. I've already arranged a full day with her tomorrow, so don't expect her back until sometime on Saturday. She'll be a totally changed woman then, all thanks to you."

With that, Sam received a hard slap on the back, which shoved him away from the disco's door and away from his wife. He wandered the resort grounds, unsure of what to do or where to go, until his feet eventually led him back to their room.

Thursday night through early Saturday crawled by. Sam waited. Dejected as he felt, he lost track of all the times he masturbated while lurking in the bungalow. Never had he brought himself to orgasm so often. He couldn't help it. He saw nothing, nothing except the mental image of his wife receiving fucking after fucking from her Black God. With each time and each of her resulting orgasms, her conversion would burn deeper into her soul, never to be undone.

Barely sleeping Thursday night, he finally fell into an exhausted sleep late Friday night, his balls aching from their inability to produce cum fast enough for the orgasms he continually forced upon them.

Saturday morning he awoke and TracieLynn was laying beside him. Her makeup was gone, her hair matted, as she snored softly into the pillow, something she only did due to total exhaustion. He slid out of bed and went to her side.

Thursday night's clothes from the disco lay in a tangled heap on the floor. Right in the middle of the pile sat her black satin thong. It was totally saturated with sticky, slimy cum, which was pungent, almost metallic when he held it up and sniffed. He longed to tug back the bed covers and view the results of her first black cock's ravishment upon her pussy, which had still been his on the journey down, but no longer. Instead, he let her sleep.

"Happy Anniversary, Honey," he whispered as he left the bungalow, sporting a raging hardon.

Rupertt was sipping espresso on the dining room terrace as Sam strolled up. The sun was already promising another glorious day in paradise.

"Well?" Rupertt's eyes never left the gentle breakers marking the boundary of the reef.

"You're amazing," Sam confessed.

"Yes, I am. Your wife is pretty amazing too." He tilted the tiny cup for another sip. "The answer to your burning question is yes. She took it in all holes. Repeatedly. A completely successful transformation, I would say. And one of the best I've had in a while, if that makes any difference to you."

Rupertt pointed to the chair beside him. As Sam sat, Rupertt turned his own chair to face him fully.

"You two leave tomorrow?"

"First thing."

"Okay. Then I'll see you both later at lunch where I'll tell her goodbye and cut her off. She'll want another fuck of course, which she won't get. She may even ask you later for... ohhhh... let's call it a mercy fuck." The wicker creaked as Rupertt leaned forward. "You won't give it to her. Clear?"