Mary's Story

Then he added, "What ever you do, don't disappoint him. It would mean your job." I was a bit surprised and taken back by that comment. I had grown to realize that I was a very beautiful and desirable lady. To my knowledge all the clients assigned to me were quite satisfied with my services.

I always dressed to go out on the town. My clients almost always wanted to be seen with me. That evening I selected a little black cocktail dress with a plunging neckline.

Upon arriving, I called Kefentse's room. The voice on the other end of the line was a deep baritone with an unmistakeable African accent. After a little while I saw a a very tall, very Black man walking from the elevator. He was at least 6 and a half feet tall, and as Black as any man I had ever seen. It was obvious no white blood flowed in his veins. His features were very African, large lips, flat nose, and close cut kinky hair. I guessed him to be in his thirties. He actually looked ugly to me. The progeny of Ham as my father used to say. I sure saw no reason for him to be a special client.

He walked directly over to me.

"You must be Kefentse," I said as I stood, hoping my pronunciation wasn't too bad.

He boldly ran his eyes over me. His gaze took me in, as if drinking me through his eyes. From my golden hair falling in lose curls upon my shoulders to my dainty ankles and black heels.

"And you are?" he asked.

"I'm Mary, from the agency," I responded.

"Nice to meet you Mary," he replied nodding his head slightly. "You may just call me Ken for now. I need to get my coat and we'll be off. I have tickets for one of your American basketball games, but first we'll have dinner."

Dinner was at one of the nicest restaurants in town. Mixed race couples are common enough that we shouldn't have attracted any attention except that Ken was so very big, black and ugly that he would stand out if he were alone, let alone in the company of a young pretty white girl wearing a wedding ring. I always wore my wedding ring to honor my husband and family for whom I was doing what I was doing.

We made small talk. I told him what it was like growing up in a small town in the Bible belt, and he told me what it was like growing up the son of a mid-level government worker in a poor country. Now he had a high position in his country's government, and traveled to the states often.

All the time, I saw him paying close attention to me. He would gaze at my face, looking into my deep blue eyes. His eyes would slide down my long fragile throat to the low neckline of my dress that called attention to white breasts so close, yet hidden under the clingy fabric.

I could read the lust in his dark Negro eyes. I could tell that he planned to possess the dainty white creature before him.

I quickly realized why he was successful. He had a very authoritative way about him. It's hard to describe, but he was always in control; he had the air of command.

To my surprise, I enjoyed the basketball game. It's just amazing what athletes those men are. I never before appreciated it, but we were sitting so close I couldn't miss how physical the game was.

It was obvious Ken liked being seen with a pretty white girl. While he was very courteous, I knew that I was his trophy for the evening. I like that role. It's a great feeling that men hold me in such high esteem that they want to be seen with me.

Since breaking out of my restrictive role of wife and mother, my self image and self confidence had greatly increased. I realized that I was a truly beautiful woman who men desired to worship as a goddess. Only the very successful and wealthy could afford my attention.

I liked the way Ken would look at me. I could tell he was appraising me by the way his glances lingered on a soft shoulder, or on my knees as my dress slid higher when I sat next to him at the game. I could tell he was liking what he saw. I knew his appetite for me was being whetted. I knew his lust was building. I like having that effect on men. It gives me a real feeling of power knowing that I can create such longings in their loins that they become putty in my hands. Since taking on my new "job", I realized that I could definitely influence my husband to do my bidding in just about anything. And I learned that I had similar power over my clients. They desperately wanted the favors that I was in a position to bestow.

I proceeded to bring the tall Black man seated next to me under my spell. It was easy to press against him in the crowded seats of the game, to make sure he could smell the hint of perfume I used, to lightly touch his muscular arm or shoulder as we talked.

I found that I was really enjoying myself. Often I am bored being with clients. They usually aren't very interesting people and only want to talk about themselves. But that was not the case that night. Ken was very self assured. He expressed real interest in me as a person. Even though I know little about basketball, Ken's enthusiasm was contagious and I too got into the game.

I was also curious what about the man I was with, and what made him a special client who Mistress handled personally.

After the game, Ken took me to a little club for drinks. This was most unusual. Most clients are so preoccupied with getting on with me that they would have made a bee line for the hotel. Ken showed no signs of being in a hurry. He appeared to be a person who wanted very much to experience as much of the city as he could.

What first struck me as we entered was that all the men in the club were Black. There wasn't a white man in sight. However, beautiful white women were very prevalent. Many were dressed provocatively. And the way they were suggestively dancing with Black men was just short of obscene.

I couldn't help but feel the sexual energy that filled the club.

Ken got us drinks, and after sitting and taking in the scene for a bit, he led me onto the dance floor. I found myself having a pretty good time. Unlike my husband, Ken was a very good dancer.

We were at a place where we fit right in with the other couples composed of large black men and beautiful white women. In that environment, I just let go of any inhibitions I might have had and started really enjoying myself. I never had such fun with a client; it was amazing.

In spite of being surrounded with pretty young women doing their best to inspire lust in their partner, Ken kept his attention on me, his prize for the night.

As we danced, I could see the desire in his dark eyes. I sensed his Negro craving for the delicate, soft flesh of the white race. Yes, we both knew he would have me before the night was out. But he was savoring the wait. He wanted others to see the daughter of Europe he was to shortly spend his savage African lust upon.

Without intending to, I discovered my body language changing. At the beginning of the evening, I was reserved. I carried myself as the high class professional of a superior race. Yes, I was willingly on the arm of a Black man, but there was a haughty aspect to my step.

By that point in the evening, I had relaxed. I was enjoying the experience. I was having fun in a fashion I could never do with my husband. I allowed my dancing to become suggestive. My body language started to say, 'I'm yours; come take me.' I wasn't dancing crudely as some of the women about me were, but I subconsciously was letting Ken know I was ready for him. I was looking forward to concluding the evening with him.

I threw my head back, laughing. I touched his body with mine as we gyrated near each other. I let my hand linger on his arm when we sat next to each other.

I could tell by the smile on Ken's face that he was reading the change in my attitude. He appeared more at ease with me. Always courteous and in control, he was at the same time relaxed. He knew he would have an eager companion for later.

It was late by the time we finally arrived back to the hotel. On the way back, I called Ben to let him know I would be home later than usual.

Back at the hotel, Ken took me directly to a large suite on the top floor. It was clear he truly was a man of means. Once inside the suite, I removed my coat and retrieved a pack of condoms from my purse.

Seeing what I was doing, Ken burst out in a bass laugh. "You will not be able to use those," he chuckled.

"Oh yes," I replied. "We always use protection with our clients."

Still chuckling, he undid his belt, allowing his trousers to drop to the floor. From inside his shorts he pulled out the largest penis I had ever seen. I had no idea a man could be so huge. He was at least a foot long and as thick as my wrist, and he was flaccid!

"My God," I uttered. "I can't take that."

I was instantly overcome with a mixture of paralyzing fear, amazement, and disbelief.

I had heard it said that Black men are better endowed than men of other races, but I didn't believe it. I'd not seen much variance among white guys, Asians or Indians. I just figured that the talk was just so much hype spread by Blacks to impress women.

But there I was confronted by a cock that was bigger and Blacker than I believed possible.

The size was inhuman. A penis that size belonged on a horse, and certainly I feared only a horse could accommodate such an organ without injury. I had visions of my vagina being stretched to tearing.

Sure I had given birth, but that was after my body adjusted through hormones and months of pregnancy. And I remembered the pain that accompanied that event.

I found myself backing away from the inhuman sight before me.

"Before tonight is over woman, you will be begging for it," he said confidently.

Standing before me, he slowly removed the rest of his clothes until he was completely naked. I was stunned by the image before me. Black as sin, and muscular. Not the over developed gym type of muscular, but toned all over. I was gazing at a black Adonis. I could sense his strength. When he moved his muscles rippled under flesh that was so black it almost had a blue hue.

This is what a true Mandingo warrior must look like, I thought.

"Come here," he commanded.

I couldn't move. My previous willingness, even eagerness, to experience this man before me had been replaced by cold fear. I was trembling, wide-eyed before him. Everything felt cold. I was aware of nothing else except that frightening vision.

William's warning about not disappointing this man crept back into my consciousness. But I didn't care at that point. I was frightened, wondering how I would escape the evening without harm.

Striding to me he ordered sternly, "Get down woman and serve me with your mouth."

His tone was unexpectedly harsh. It immediately created a fear of what he might do if I did not obey him. This man, who just a little while ago I was so at ease with, had so quickly morphed into a source of terror.

I was trapped. But I felt a glimmer of hope. Perhaps he knew how he would injure me? Perhaps he knew that the only thing I could do was to service him as best as I could with my mouth.

I knelt before him, as if paying homage to an ebony god. Oddly, just at that time, the thought flashed through my mind of how appalled my daddy would be if he were able to see his little girl kneeling to a naked man of the Black race. That was quickly replaced by the picture of how my husband might react. Somehow I knew that any feelings he would have of shock or disgust would be overcome with excitement. I had grown to realize that he would be stimulated by the sight of his wife giving herself over to a man of the Black race to be ravished.

I felt as if I was in a dream. I was having trouble comprehending what was happening to me. There I was, a gorgeous white woman, wife, mother on her knees at the feet of a the Blackest man imaginable, with such strong African features, looking directly at an ungodly black phallus which was no longer completely flaccid. It was stirring as if it was a separate creature. It was beginning to reach out toward me, it's next victim.

Unlike every other time, I was not the one in control. I was powerless, at the mercy of the naked dark African at whose feet I knelt. My stomach churned with a mixture of raw fear and excitement.

Where did the excitement come from? I should have been fearing for my life, but there was a definite feeling that I was on the precipice of an exciting experience.

Never before had I been in the intimate presence of such a man. A man of such power, authority and control that my every instinct was to obey and serve him. This was a true Alpha male of the species. And to be the object of desire of such a male was exciting at many levels.

I realized that my vaginal juices were beginning to flow, soaking my thong. I hadn't even taken off my dress.

Instinctively, I slid closer to him on my lily-white knees. I looked up at the Black giant towering over me. With a trembling hand, I first just stroked that huge Black phallus. I could feel the thick veins running through it. I reached my small hand around it, but I couldn't close fingers to thumb. The contrast of the darkest Black sex organ and my alabaster hand and wedding ring was startling. It looked so wrong; my hand looked so out-of-place. And yet that "wrongness" was so exciting and erotic! I was violating all the taboos I had grown up with.

I thought to myself that this must be a true cock, so different from my husband's penis.

As I was tentatively touching it, his huge Black cock jerked as if animated, and slowly began to swell and stiffen.

"Kiss it woman," he ordered. "Make love to me with your pretty, sexy, white mouth."

My pulse was racing, my breathing fast and shallow.

Grasping the thick shaft with both my dainty snowy hands, I ran my tongue over and around the almost purple tip. I stretched my mouth over the bulbous head to see how much I could get into my mouth. The Black spongy flesh, ground over my teeth and compacted allowing its oversized tumescence to fit into my salivating mouth. My jaw extended to the maximum, I could barely reach my mouth over it.

I felt that massive piece of flesh come even more alive in my hands and in my mouth, throbbing, pulsating, growing harder, growing yet larger.

He had my hair in the grasp of a huge Black hand; I felt the pain of my hair being pulled as he made a fist.

"That's it woman," he said letting out a low moan. "Service me with your mouth and hands. Get me ready to take you. Then you will know what it is like to be with a real man.

Then you will know what is like to be a woman," he concluded.

I was not aware of the importance of his last statement, but I was soon to find out.

I was stroking him with both my hands as I mouthed the head of what had become a hard scepter of the Blackest flesh. I usually find oral sex disgusting, but there was something drawing me to this marvelous ebony shaft.

I realized my sex was getting wet; I was responding in a physically primal way completely divorced from my conscious concerns. I was letting out little whimpers of excitement and pain which caused the hand clutching my hair to tighten, increasing my arousal even more.

He stepped back to sit on a sofa, pulling me with him. He was fully hard now. I was shocked at the size of him.

His lust for me had transformed his already huge Black appendage into a gigantic ebony shaft, glistening with my saliva. His desire revealed itself in the massive quantity of blood that filled and throbbed in that mighty phallus to the extent that I could actually feel his pulse. The veins stood out sharply giving odd texture to his splendid manhood.

He was staring at me. I could see in his dark eyes how much he wanted to possess me. I read his need to satisfy himself upon my incredible, delicious, soft, white, youthful, female beauty.

I followed him, sliding my body close. My vagina was on fire. I straddled a large Black foot so I could rub my aching clitoris against the top and rub my breasts along his leg as I continued kissing, licking, sucking and stroking him.

Oily precum started flowing from him. Never had I seen anything like it. He was leaking as much as most men cum.

I could smell his sex. His moans were getting louder, turning into half grunts.

His clear need to take me was having it's effect. Soon I was quivering and moaning with orgasms. My body was no longer mine to control.

"That's it, stroke it faster woman," he directed.

I felt him responding, growing tense. I stroked faster and sucked the very tip of his engorged manhood.

With an, "Ahhh," he let lose with a mighty blast of semen, striking me square in the face. My face was covered; semen was in my hair and running down my dress. Still he came, burst after burst. I had no idea a man could produce so much. Ben climaxes with a little pop of fluid, but I was covered with an inhumanly large amount black seed.

Overcome and bewildered, I wiped his cum out of my eyes.

"Now it is time for you to know what it is like to be a real woman," he proclaimed as he stood up.

As he stood, he brought me up with him, his hand still grasping my hair. Letting go, he undid my dress, letting it fall in a sodden mass around my feet.

Picking me up as if I had no weight, he carried me to the bedroom and deposited me on my back on the bed, which was conveniently turned down for us.

In spite of my fears of being hurt and having unprotected sex, I landed with my legs opened to him.

Throwing the covers aside he positioned himself between my legs.

Grasping my thong, he tore it off without effort.

Even though he had just had a massive orgasm, he was still hard as a rock.

I was thinking he must be superhuman, or perhaps inhuman; a Black demon sent to punish me.

"Please," I begged. "I'm afraid. You'll hurt me."

But I made no effort to close my legs or deny him his conquest.

Ignoring my entreaty I felt the head of his gigantic penis against my labia, slowly pushing forward, forcing the labia to part.

My vagina was slick from my earlier orgasms and initially easily accommodated his slow invasion of my womanhood.

But soon I felt him stretching me more than any man had ever had before. I cried out.

Sensing my discomfort he withdrew a little, then slowly worked himself in a little deeper.

Frightened I cried, "Please stop...don't do this...I can't...." All the while my body betraying me as my legs opened even wider in an effort to accomodate him.

My pleas were cut off as he thrust in much deeper, taking my breath away. I was being stretched as never before, the pain was sharp and incessant.

He was in so far, his penis was bumping against my cervix. Never before had a man filled me so.

He commenced a slow in and out rhythm.

Never had my vagina been so filled, never had I hurt so, never had I been so stimulated. Every nerve in my vagina was on fire.

I started to orgasm, not those little pops centered at the clitoris, but big orgasms radiating out from my vagina to my extremities. Orgasms of a power I had never before experienced.

I gasped for breath as great orgasms racked my body. The pain, still there, only seemed to heighten their intensity.

I heard myself yelling, "Oh fuck me. Fuck me hard you Black bastard.

I love your Black cock inside me...Fuck me!"

With that he slowed and began pushing deeper into me. Slowly he pressed his penis against my cervix, pressing harder and moving ever so slightly.

Good Lord! I felt a sharp stab of pain as he pushed hard against my cervix.

"No! Stop!" I cried, but to no avail.

I was totally in his power.

I let go.

I submitted completely to his carnal cravings.

He slowly commenced to work the head of his cock into and past my cervix.

I could no longer talk; the pain was excruciating.

My cervix was contracting, trying to expel the shaft that was invading me.