Cuckolds Anonymous Ch. 02

This story is posted on the Literotica website—The author does not give permission for it to be reposted or reprinted anywhere else without consent. This is the second in a multi-chaptered interracial cuckold story.

*****

The three black men stood on the tee box at the iconic seaside par three 7^th hole at Pebble Beach Golf Links. All were regaled in expensive golf attire, designer sunglasses, and gold jewelry. Each held an expensive Cuban cigar in one hand and a chilled glass of Scotch in the other. As they readied for a toast, Carl Jenkins, the former major league relief pitcher's voice boomed as he turned in the direction of their missing fourth playing partner. "Are you going to join us Thirteen?"

The final player in their group smiled back while holding his phone to his ear. His one single bright gold tooth shone brightly in his otherwise perfect mouthful of sparkling white chompers. "Nah, I'm kind of busy at the moment boss!"

"Don't worry about the five Benjamin's I coughed up for you to join us today 1-3!" Jenkins joked in reference to the five-hundred dollar Pebble Beach green fees, drawing hearty laughter from the other men.

"Golf is for pussies and besides my cock gets in the way when I swing!" Tyrone Rodgers, Carl Jenkins' right hand man, known to all of them simply as Thirteen, joked from the cart. Another round of laughter ensued.

"Fuck him," Jenkins snickered, "that son-of-a-bitch can't stop thinking about pussy even when he's out here on one of the most scenic places on god's green earth! But, I have to admit, the man has his priorities straight—so with that, let's toast to white married pussy and the cuckolds who, pun intended, tee that shit up for black bulls like ourselves to enjoy!" They clanked their glasses together, sharing another hearty chuckle before knocking back the silky smooth 25-year-old Macallan single malt.

"I heard that boss...you know I'll always drink to fine white pussy!" Thirteen shouted and raised his glass while still carrying on an animated conversation on his phone.

"You got to give the poor bastard a pass." Jenkins volunteered. "We just signed up a new couple in Sacramento who have us all walking around with stiffy's lately. We haven't enjoyed the hot wife Abbie Dawson yet, but Thirteen's been strutting around like the cock of the walk trying to come up with an appropriate immersion plan."

Jenkins lowered his voice, "But what he doesn't know, is Brahma, the big boss, is gonna pull rank and break that fine shit in all by myself!"

The other two smiled, well aware of the self-proclaimed nickname Jenkins had bestowed upon himself. Carl Jenkins, the founder and CEO of a series of sex clubs for affluent black men around the U.S. known as The Bullpen, had invited the other two gentleman to join him and Thirteen for a couple of days of golf and relaxation on the spectacular Monterey Peninsula. The group had plans to play 36 holes today at Pebble and follow it up with a round at the ultra-exclusive Cypress Point Club the following day. Ironically there was a time when four black men wouldn't have been welcome at the historically racist Cypress Point, but times had changed, and these weren't four ordinary black men.

All four had enjoyed successful careers as professional athletes—three were now retired, including Jenkins who had been a relief pitcher for several MLB franchises and his business associate Tyrone Rodgers, the man they referred to as Thirteen, himself an All-pro safety for the Miami Dolphins. The third retiree was former MLB outfielder Cedric Brown. Brown and Jenkins had struck up a close friendship while playing together late in their careers and had remained incredibly tight for more than a decade after they both hung up their spiked cleats.

The final member of the group was still in the midst of his future Hall of Fame tenure as middle linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys. His name was Cole Steele. At 31, the huge black man was more than ten years the junior of any of his playing partners, but nonetheless, the former Super Bowl MVP still had plenty in common with the older black men.

Steele had been introduced to Jenkins a half-decade previously while playing for the Chargers. In the years since, he had been a frequent guest at several of Jenkins' Bullpen establishments around the country. And now, even after the birth of his first child Star, Cole and his wife Jenna, herself a stunning blonde, were still frequent visitors to The Bullpen's Dallas chapter.

"Okay gentleman, and I use that term very loosely, $100 for closest to the pin!" Jenkins challenged jovially. "We can't play a hole like this one without putting a little side action on it!"

"Damn Carl, after all these years, you still like giving me your money!" Brown joked while accepting his friend's challenge.

"A c-note, I'm in for that shit!" Thirteen shouted from the cart as he dropped his phone on the seat and pulled a random club from his bag.

"Fuck me, he's gonna lose and I'm going to have to pony up for his sorry ass again!" Jenkins complained jokingly before spinning a tee to see what the teeing order would be. "Okay 1-3 you're up, followed by the big fella, me, and then Mr. Cuckolds Anonymous over there!"

Thirteen stepped up to the tee, took an ugly practice swing and proceeded to spray his 9-iron into the Pacific Ocean.

The rest of the group nearly fell to the ground in laughter.

"Fuck this game, and I hit myself in the cock again. I can't help it if you shrimp dicks don't have the same problem!" He mockingly complained before storming back to the cart. "I got some pussy on the other line...that shit's a lot more interesting than you dickless motherfuckers anyway!"

His comment only contributed to their stomach-churning hilarity.

The irony of his statement would have been incredulous to 99.99% of the male population. His three playing partners all possessed thick black horse cocks in excess of eleven inches, but none of them would have entered a biggest dick contest with Tyrone Rodgers. Most people who heard the Thirteen moniker assumed it referred to the number on his Dolphins playing jersey, but those who had been around him in the locker room, knew it was given for a different reason. The true rationale for his paradigmatic nickname was based on the inconceivable 13" midnight black bull cock that hung between his legs.

Cole Steele was next to hit. The hulking linebacker could hit a golf ball a fucking mile, but he still hadn't developed the finesse skills required to score consistently in a game he had only started playing a few years previously. He sailed his lob wedge over the green into the back bunker.

"A hundred and sixty yards with a fuckin' lob wedge Bull? You need to get off the damn juice when you stop playing brotha!" Jenkins joked.

"I don't know why I take these side bets with you two hustlers!" Cole smirked before shaking his head in disgust.

"I do! Besides spending it on the smokin' hot wife of yours, what else you gonna do with all of Jerry Jones' money? I'm surprised that rich-ass mofo's yacht ain't parked right out there at this minute!" Jenkins pointed to the cove adjacent to the 7^th green. "Well, on second thought, he's probably happy it ain't, Thirteen's ball would have gone right through his motherfucking windshield!"

All three of them died laughing again as Rodgers flipped Jenkins the bird from the cart.

The Bullpen founder was next to hit. As a 5-handicap, he confidently lined up his sand wedge and lofted a perfect looking shot right over the flag stick that landed softly and spun backwards to within seven feet of the pin. He erupted in exultation and joyously accepted a hearty fist bump from Cole Steele who was already on his way to retrieve his wallet from his bag.

Jenkins bragged smugly to his good friend Brown. "Not only am I not going to have to cough up the dough-ray-me for my Davy Jones cart mate, I get to collect from your sorry ass and the Super Bowl fuckin' MVP!"

"You want to double or nothing motherfucker?"

Jenkins stared at his longtime friend before a big smile formed on his face. "I don't care how good you are CB, in this breeze, you'll be lucky to get it inside 15 feet, let alone inside my pretty little pin-seeker. Fuck yeah, I'll take your bet!"

A wry smile formed on Ced Brown's face. It was a look Carl had seen too many times—his brimming confidence soured quickly. As good as his own shot had been, if there was anyone short of Tiger himself capable of hitting a dart inside his ball, it was his buddy Cedric Brown. The man had the golden touch in just about everything he did and while his handicap said he was a two, Jenkins knew no one was better with money on the line.

Brown took another puff before tossing his stogie onto the tee-box. He exhaled and confidently re-teed his Pro-V1 before checking the wind one final time. The former major league batting champ took his typical buttery swing and launched a knock-down wedge down the hill toward the postage stamp green.

Carl Jenkins knew immediately he'd made a bad bet.

Brown's subtle draw aided by the Pacific breeze was a thing of beauty. His ball bounced once, hit the flag stick and settled right next to the pin. The former outfielder missed a hole in one by six inches.

Cole Steele who had just returned from his cart cheered loud enough that the group on the 8^th tee turned to see what had happened. Brown spun his head coolly and shrugged his shoulders as if to imply "What the fuck did you think was going to happen?" A shit-eating grin formed on his face as he stared at Jenkins who looked like he'd just seen a ghost.

"Pay up motherfucker!"

Over the remainder of the round and the eighteen holes that followed, the banter and the drinking intensified. But in spite of their eventual inebriation, Carl Jenkins resisted the temptation to make additional wagers with Cedric Brown. Although he was a wealthy man himself, Jenkins saw no reason to contribute anymore of his hard earned cash to his millionaire buddy.

And while Jenkins didn't challenge his good friend to any additional bets, he did take the opportunity, as he always did when they got together, to ride him about his current business venture. "Okay, so I know Cole will agree with me about this, why are you still carrying on this fuckin' Cuckolds Anonymous charade?"

"I'm not sure what you're referring to Carl." Brown smiled slyly. "Cuckolds Anonymous is a legitimate non-profit business that has helped hundreds of couples navigate delicate and often tenuous extra-marital relational challenges."

Jenkins laughed loudly. "Oh don't give me that fuckin' bullshit again CB, you started that business for one reason and one reason only! You love that pipeline of married pussy you disguise as a self-help organization!"

"We have hundreds of satisfied customers, have you seen our ratings on Amazon and Facebook?" Brown answered again with a shit-eating grin.

"Yeah, I know you've hired some capable counselors, but they are only there to help the dickless slugs with ugly wives and/or girlfriends while you are bangin' all the hot babes!" Jenkins challenged, levity clear in his voice.

"We assess each couple individually and create a specific plan to best help them achieve their relational goals. But yes, we have special programs for certain hand-chosen couples!" Brown winked before he took a big satisfactory puff from his Cuban.

Jenkins laughed. "Hand-chosen my ass! More like cock-chosen—as in chosen by that big nigger cock in your pants! Those poor suckers don't have the faintest idea that the man they are trusting to help them make the right decisions regarding the lifestyle, is the same one trying to bang the shit out of all their hot naïve wives!"

Brown grinned. "It's like any clinical counseling situation my brotha, not everyone takes to the help and guidance we provide regarding the risk factors involved in these types of relationships. As is almost always the case, some ignore the education and end up embracing the very situation they thought they were looking to avoid. But as we also council our clients, the lifestyle may not always turn out bad for them. In spite of the risks, some find lifelong happiness!"

"Yeah...lifelong happiness on the end of your long cock!" Jenkins shouted.

"I suppose that is a viable outcome for some!" Brown answered with a grin, no longer disguising his true motivations.

"I don't know why you bother with all headaches man. You could just go hang out at my San Francisco chapter and bang all the married white pussy you want. And while I don't take it as a serious challenge, in some roundabout way, we are actually competitors. My business exists to grow opportunities for black men to bag more white wives, while yours aims to reduce our opportunities. In fact, I would be a little more concerned if it weren't for the endless supply of horny married pussy looking to experience what true sexual nirvana on the cocks of black bulls is all about!"

"Yep...that fact is good for both our businesses!" Brown grinned, raising his glass. "And we both know the Bay Area is one of the most fertile places in the country. We got all these young Stanford and Cal educated stock-option techie geeks who outkicked their coverage with their outrageously hot wives who only married them for the money in the first place. After a couple of years these babes are unsatisfied, bored or both and looking for something more satisfying. Their shrimp-dick husband's don't want to lose them, so the cuckold phenomenon becomes a natural progression. Their rationale: give their wives the big house, the big yard, and plenty of big cock and everything will be okay!"

"Amen to that CB, but you still haven't explained why you prefer your indirect method for achieving the same prize the rest of us bulls get without having to work so hard for it?"

"It's a much better tax write-off!" Brown joked.

"Oh fuck, you expect me to believe that shit? There are hundreds of things you could do to reduce your nut without having to deal with all the drama your business inevitably develops!"

"That's true, but I leave that shit up to my staff to deal with. As for The Bullpen, you know I've brought plenty of clients by your establishments. But in all honesty to your question, let's just say there is something incredibly satisfying about picking the fruit directly off the tree! We disarm the lucky couples to the point they think they've overcome their cuckold desires, when in fact we've perfectly prepared them for the next eligible black man who happens into their lives." Brown took another puff from his Cuban, held it momentarily before exhaling a satisfying cloud of blue smoke. "It just so happens, yours truly, is the next eligible black man who happens into their lives!"

All three men laughed.

"I guess when you explain it like that, it does sound pretty fucking enticing," Jenkins acknowledged.

"And I don't have to share any of them with dudes like that!" Brown joked, nodding over in Thirteen's direction. They turned to see Jenkins' right hand man standing with his huge cock hanging out uncouthly taking a piss next to the cart.

They all hooted again when Rodgers flipped off Brown this time.

"As a matter of fact I had this little cock-rocket Kacey Shaw for the first time the night before last." Brown volunteered. "The Shaw's joined recently and were actually out having their baseline test, as we refer to it, at a venue we directed them to. Sure enough, they failed miserably when a certain black man picked them up at the bar and they invited him back to their place. This black man...uh...popped young Kacey's BBC cherry and then banged that horny little thing all night long. Her tech engineer hubby watched for the first couple of hours with that look we all know so well—that fucker actually made me breakfast yesterday morning while I was fuckin' his hot wife again!"

"That's awesome Ced!" Cole Steele cheered.

"Yeah CB, you've even got me half-hard now! We're going to need some more details of that breeding my friend!" Jenkins squawked.

"That's what we got tonight and tomorrow's round for!" Brown answered smugly.

*****

Monday morning

Cedric Brown sat in his posh leather office chair with a Starbucks in hand as he spoke to his clinical director Tanya Lewis across his large desk.

"So how was your weekend at Pebble?" She asked.

"Fuckin' awesome! The weather was pristine and the company wasn't too bad either. Those suckers even decided to line my pockets with a little spending money at the bar with their stupid side bets!" Brown chuckled.

"Who was there?"

"Carl Jenkins, his buddy Tyrone Rodgers and Cole Steele from the Cowboys!"

"That's a pretty motley crew," she giggled, "no lady friends?"

"Not this time. Cole's wife Jenna didn't make the trip and those two other motherfuckers decided to take a couple of days off!"

"Damn, you four with no sex outlet for a couple of day's straight, I can't imagine the testosterone that must have been wafting from your table at dinner Saturday night!"

Brown laughed. "Yeah, Carl and Thirteen said they were gonna have a couple of Pen mares act as flight attendants on their private charter back to Sacramento last night!"

Tanya stared at her boss with an incredulous gaze. "I thought you were bad Cedric, but those friends of yours are the horniest men on the planet!"

"Yeah, you got that right, but that's enough about them. Let's talk about what we got going on here today."

"Sure, but before we get to today's new group, we should probably talk about the Shaw's."

A big smile formed on Cedric Browns lips. "Ah, the Shaw's, yes we should discuss them."

"So after our conversation Friday morning I left Tim a message about setting up our next session. I'm assuming it will turn into an exit interview?"

Brown chuckled proudly. "Yeah Tan, unfortunately for the Shaw's, the program wasn't exactly right for them. They fell victim to a smooth talking black man! Poor Tim Shaw may have thought he was on a path to overcoming his cuckold fetish, but he watched with the most excited gaze while that sexy little wife of his had the best damn night of her life. He even made the fortunate black man breakfast the next morning while Kacey and her bull had another heart to heart...uh...discussion!"

Tanya Lewis shook her head, this wasn't the first time she'd heard a similar story from her boss. "Do you think they'll be upset the program failed them?" She asked as if by obligation, already knowing the answer.

"No, that's the best part. Tim told me the next morning he never wanted to join in the first place and he couldn't have been more satisfied with how his wife responded." Brown answered as a prideful smirk washed across his face. "As for his wife, she just couldn't have been more satisfied period!"

Tanya giggled. "Okay, when he calls me back, I'll make sure the exit interview doesn't conflict with anything else on your calendar. I assume you want to be behind the glass..."

"You bet I do! There's nothing more gratifying than hearing from another satisfied customer. So let's talk about what we got going on later this morning."

"Big group, fourteen in all."

"You said we had some prospects? Tell me more." Brown asked, excited that he might actually have multiple targets for a change.

Tanya's eyebrows rose as if to validate his interest. "Yes, in reviewing the files, I identified two possibilities. Both couples fit the typical profile—high earning technology industry hubbies with gorgeous wives. Both late twenties. The first pair is the Zeller's, Brian and Brooklyn." She handed him their file. "Brian is an operations manager at Facebook, his cute redheaded wife is a stay-at-home mom who clearly finds time to get to the gym every day."