The Room Where it Happened

Caroline had loved being fucked by Mr. Cirillo, the plumber, that second time, in her own house, on her own bed.

She particularly liked the way she had undermined his brutish behaviour and wrested some control back from the ugly little man. Denying his orgasm when he wanted to shoot his load into her mouth, and again when she was riding his cock, but didn't allow him to come when she did. The plumber knew it too, especially when she told him to slap her tits, and then slap them harder.

"I deserve to be punished, Mr. Cirillo... I'm a lying... unfaithful slut... Slap my tits. Please."

What was it he called her? Oh, yes: "You're a fucking psycho-bitch."

In that moment, she embraced the notion she had inherited the slut gene from her mother, and used her wild, whorish behaviour to subversively dominate the fat, little man, and the resulting orgasms had been the best she ever experienced.

But later that evening, after her post-orgasmic rapture had faded away, and while she sat at the dining table with Bill, along with their two daughters, Caroline found herself quietly reflecting on the rapid escalation of her recent sexual misadventures.

These extramarital exploits had all started when she'd let the tattooed truckdriver, her mother's boyfriend, finger her cunt at Wendy's birthday party, and this had been closely followed by the incident when Cirillo had brutally fucked her in her sister's apartment. At least with those two episodes, she could ease her conscience by claiming they were unplanned, indeed during the latter incident the plumber had physically forced himself on her.

Not so today, when she fucked Cirillo. It had been Caroline who had initiated the plumber's visit to her house. It was she that decided to dress so provocatively in Kylie's old school uniform. It was she who had wanted to fuck the old man with the big, nasty cock, and got an extra erotic thrill out of the fact she made it happen in her own home and on the bed, she normally shared with her husband, Bill.

It was all very well blaming her conduct on inheriting the slut gene from her mother, but the truth was it was she who was responsible for her actions, not some accident of genealogy. It was a sobering realisation and caused her concern about where things might end up. Could it soon be the case that any stranger with a working cock who happened to call at the house while she was alone, could fuck her? The notion was as worrying as it was titillating.

She loved Bill, in a humdrum, comfortable sort of way and she was fiercely devoted to her children. Were the intense sexual encounters she had opened herself up to in recent weeks really worth putting all that at risk?

No, it was time to put the genie back in the lamp, before matters really got out of hand.

Over the following days and weeks, Caroline resisted the temptation of resummoning Cirillo through his firm, Elegant Interiors. Instead, whenever her pussy got too heated, which was a lot, she used her recently acquired, rabbit-eared vibrator and when to town on her cunt and clitoris.

Like giving up nicotine, the cravings eventually eased, and she found she could go through a whole day without thinking about being fucked by Cirillo, or old perverts like him.

Unknown to Caroline, Bill continued to monitor the live feed from the nanny-cam every time the motion sensor in their bedroom activated, although nothing like the incident, when he discovered the short, fat man fucking Caroline, ever happened again. It came as a surprise to him that he was undecided about how that made him feel. It had to be good that he had no further grounds for jealousy, didn't it? However, every time he looked at the recording of his wife fucking like a wanton whore, he couldn't help masturbating to the images. Although, he never came quite as hard as he did that first time, while sitting in his car in their garage and watching live feed of Caroline fucking upstairs.

Despite the evidence so readily accessible on his phone, he never confronted Caroline about her whorish adultery. He had certainly intended to but baulked when he considered the possible ramifications. Confrontation would give rise to accusations and arguments that could so easily result in separation or even divorce. Then as time passed, his constant monitoring of her daily activities revealed nothing suspicious, and he began to think that what had happened was just a crazy one-off fling. Yet he was also aware, even if it was only subconsciously, that by not challenging his wife about her adultery, it left open the possibility it might happen again.

In a matter of a few short weeks following the incident with Cirillo, Bill surprised Caroline when, for their eighteenth wedding anniversary, he purchased a couple of really good seats at a West End production of Hamilton, followed by an overnight stay in the very plush Covent Garden Hotel. It was unlike him to celebrate in this extravagant way, and it only made her more determined to continue being faithful to him, even if her body was sorely missing out on the erotic excitement of illicit sex.

The show was fantastic, and this was followed up by a couple of drinks at the hotel bar on their return. It was almost midnight when they finally made their way back to the hotel room, but Caroline was determined that her night was not yet finished. She couldn't remember the last time she and Bill had sex, or to put it in terms her neglected cunt could understand, the last time he'd properly fucked her. However, she was going to change that tonight.

Once in the room, Caroline asked Bill to get her a drink from the minibar and entered the bathroom humming the tune to 'The Room Where It Happens'. Unknown to her husband, she had packed some very sexy lingerie. On the day she had visited one of the Elizabeth Winter's boutique sex shops, to buy the rabbit-eared vibrator, her attention was drawn to the lingerie section. Packed in her overnight case was a set made from the finest white, floral lace and in addition to the bra, G-string, garter belt and stockings, it had a neck collar with a gold chain that ran all the way down to the garter straps.

As Caroline put the final touches to her full lips, settling for a subtle red, as she didn't feel the need to overdo her makeup because the lingerie was slutty enough, she thought she heard a knock on the door of the hotel room. She wondered why Bill was bothering with room service at this late hour when the minibar was so well stocked. No matter, she thought, and used the delay to review her getup in the mirror and compliment herself on how well the sexy underwear suited her full and shapely figure. They'd soon be alone, and, given the way she looked, Bill was certain to fuck her.

When Caroline stepped out of the bathroom, she was shocked. Bill wasn't alone and the other person in the room didn't look like room service. Feeling very exposed in her lingerie, she instinctively looked around for a bathrobe and, not finding one, placed one arm across her breasts while her other hand covered her pubic area.

"Well, ain't she cute," said the other person in the room. He was a black man that Caroline guessed was still in his twenties. He wore a bright yellow, hooded tracksuit with a red stripe down the arms and legs and spoke with a distinctly American accent. However, the most striking thing about him was his imposing physique. The man was enormous, well over six foot tall, with broad, muscular shoulders that tapered down to what was almost certainly a ripped waist.

Bill was sitting on a chair stripped down to his underpants. Caroline was so taken aback by the presence of the stranger, it took her a moment to register the fact that her husband's wrists were secured to the arms of the chair with plastic cables, while his ankles were secured in a similar fashion to the chair's legs.

"What are you doing to my husband!" Caroline didn't realise she was shouting until the words came out. "Get out of here before I call down to reception and have them get the police."

"Now, there's no need for that, baby."

Caroline made a move for the telephone on the bedside locker, but she stopped when the man held what looked like a sharp, folding knife close to her husband's throat.

"Caroline, don't," Bill said pleadingly, a look of genuine fear in his eyes. "He's probably only here to rob us. It's better to co-operate and not aggravate him. He'll soon be gone."

"But Bill, he's got a knife."

"Yeah, bitch," said the man. He twirled the knife dexterously between his fingers, then gave her a broad smile and she saw that a number of his teeth were gold plated. "All the more reason not to get on my bad side. I'm Tyrone, by the way. Baby, why don't you come over here and let me have a good look at you."

"Leave her alone," growled Bill. He strained uselessly against the bindings. "If you lay a finger on my wife, I'll..."

Tyrone slapped Bill across the face and shocked him into silence.

"Come on over here, honey," said the man while beckoning her with the knife. "I gotta get a better look at you."

A chill ran down Caroline's spine, but it seemed she had no choice. Judging by how quickly he had struck Bill, the man seemed very volatile and apt to become suddenly violent again if she did not obey.

When she drew close enough, Tyrone played with the light, gold chain that linked her garters to the collar round her neck. "So, your Caroline, and this peckerwood is Bill."

"Yes," she responded fearfully.

Almost distractedly, he repeated their names. "Caroline and Bill." As he spoke, he took hold of her hair and turned her slowly from side to side while looking her up and down. "My, my, what a great body you have there, Caroline. Then with his free hand he made a sudden violent motion as he roughly pulled both her breasts out of her bra. "Thems mighty fine titties on you, girl. I likes 'em big. Guess, you must like 'em big too, eh Bill."

Bill did not respond. He just looked on in horror. Caroline thought her husband was probably feeling stupid for thinking that their intruder would be satisfied with only taking their money and other valuables.

Tyrone began to massage one of her breasts before spitting on her areola and rubbing the saliva into the nipple, making it swell up before he pulled on it with his finger and thumb. Then he performed the same action on her other breast.

"Take your hands off me," said Caroline. There was more than an element of desperation in her voice because not only were her breasts visibly responding to the intruder's rough treatment, but she also felt her cunt moistening. She didn't want Bill to see that she was becoming aroused at the hands of this stranger.

However, her reaction only seemed to make matters worse.

Tyrone slapped her across both breasts. It wasn't a powerful blow, but her already aroused and sensitive nipples felt like they'd been struck with a bolt of electricity.

"There's no call to get uppity, now is there, bitch?"

Caroline remained silent. If anything, this seemed to anger Tyrone even more because he struck her across the breasts again. The man couldn't have known that having her tits slapped was something that really turned her on, and she worried that if he kept it up, she might come, right there in front of her captive husband.

However, her experience with Cirillo the plumber had taught her how to placate abusers. "Tyrone, I'm sorry," she said, "you can play with my tits all you want." Reaching behind she unclasped the hooks of her lace bra and let it fall away to the ground.

While she freed her breasts, she cast a sideways glance at Bill and could see the hurt in his eyes. Didn't he understand she had to appease this dangerous man in whatever way she could? Christ, he had a knife and it seemed to her he was willing to use it.

"Now we're talking," said Tyrone. "A bitch's got to show a man some respect. R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Ain't that right, Bill?"

Instead of slapping her again, Tyrone slipped his big hand down the front of Caroline's panties. "My, my. Ain't you full of surprises, bitch? A shaved pussy; my favourite. And what's this? Your cunt's already wet." He took his hand out and put his glistening fingers close to Bill's nose. "See that? Her slit's wetter than New Orleans after Katrina."

Caroline had to look away, she felt so mortified.

"Now, bitch, said Tyrone, "it's time I introduced you to a friend of mine." As he said this, he let go of her hair and took a mobile phone out of his pocket and placed it on the nearby dressing table. Then he used both hands to pull his tracksuit bottoms down around his ankles, revealing his thick, muscular legs, and much more besides.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Caroline. Tyrone wasn't wearing any underpants, so his penis was visible. Oh, and what a penis it was. It wasn't erect and yet it hung down almost to his knee and looked as thick as her wrist. It made Cirillo's cock look small. Even Bill's eyes widened in their sockets.

"My momma was a church-going lady," said Tyrone smiling proudly. As he spoke, he removed the top of his tracksuit and threw it on the bed. He obviously worked out a great deal when he wasn't breaking into people's hotel rooms and holding them hostage. His upper half was all dark muscle, with a big, hulking chest and a pumped-up abdomen. "If you have to address my dong, bitch, I'd prefer you call it Thor's Hammer." He picked up his mobile phone and it was soon obvious he was going to record Caroline's humiliation.

"Now, come on, baby. It's time to get that pretty mouth of yours working on the hammer."

If Caroline appeared to hesitate, it wasn't because she was being recorded, or that her husband was only a couple of feet away, it was because she was daunted by the sheer size of Tyrone's organ. Without wanting to look in Bill's direction, she picked up the flaccid, circumcised penis with both hands, feeling its dark, meaty weight, then gingerly placed its head into her mouth.

Relax, she tried to tell herself. No matter its size, it's still a penis. It will respond to her Cock-sucking Triple-treat technique, the same as any other cock.

Caroline began to pump the shaft of Tyrone's cock with one fist, while her other hand cupped and massaged the black man's ball sack. She didn't feel inclined to go easy on the testicles as she normally would. Under the circumstances, she could hardly give a damn if she inflicted any pain. Then, after spitting on the purple head, she took the bulging glans into her mouth and began to feel the shaft growing and becoming rigid. Oh, boy, did it grow. It was a massive cock, nothing like anything she'd seen before, even in porn movies. She began to bob her head. At first, she only swallowed a couple of inches, but even when she got into her stride, she barely took in a quarter of his cock, leaving most of the shaft exposed for her hand to continue its pumping action.

She steadily increased the pace. Her hands and mouth working all three parts of his cock, doing her best to maximize the sensations she was generating. She wanted to get him off quickly and have done with it.

"You're a mighty fine cocksucker," said Tyrone after some time, "but we'll be here all night if you keep going like that. Let me help you out, honey." While continuing to record, he grabbed hold of her hair tightly with his free hand and began to face-fuck her.

Caroline struggled to breathe as Tyrone ravaged her mouth and throat with his enormous cock. "Now that's what I'm talking about, bitch. Sucking on it like that might be okay for ole Bill over there, with his tiny little pecker, but Thor's Hammer deserves better. Don't it, baby?"

Of course, Caroline had no way of answering with her mouth so full.

When Tyrone came, he held her head firmly in place while he pushed his behemoth down her throat. Caroline was initially relieved, thinking the ordeal would soon be over, but she hadn't counted on the amount of semen the young, black man was discharging. She couldn't swallow it quickly enough and soon it was overflowing her mouth and falling onto her breasts, and even then, she struggled to breathe.

"Yeah, bitch," Tyrone moaned. "Take it! Take it all. Suck down on all of the hammer's magic juice."

Eventually, Tyrone stopped pumping into her mouth, and let go of her hair. Caroline looked over to Bill to see if she could read any reaction from his face. However, it was his cock that drew her attention. It was at eyelevel with her and, despite being contained within his briefs, she could see clearly, that it was erect. Her husband had just watched her being forcefully face-fucked by a total stranger and he'd gotten a hard on. How was that possible? Then she remembered the number of times her own body had betrayed her even though, at the time, her brain told her it was very wrong.

"Bitch, you've made the hammer all messy and shit," said Tyrone looking down at his softening cock. "Best you lick it clean and shiny."

Caroline took hold of his cock again, this time using her tongue to clean off the excess semen still dripping from the meaty organ. It was a humiliation, especially in front of Bill, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that this ordeal was almost over. She did what she had to do. Surely, Bill would understand she had no choice. Once they put this torment behind them, they could begin to pick up the pieces and put their lives back together.

The only problem was, Tyrone did not seem in any hurry to leave. He sat down on the end of the bed and unlaced his sneakers, then took of his tracksuit bottoms, so he was now entirely naked. Then he strolled over to the mini bar, got himself a bottle of Budweiser and returned to sit on the bed.

"Come over here, baby," he said, patting the area beside him.

"Haven't you done enough?" spat Bill. "What more could you possibly want?"

"Do you want another smack in the mouth?" asked Tyrone, in a tone that suggested he was more than happy to deliver it.

Bill fell silent.

Caroline sat on the bed beside Tyrone. He placed his big, muscular arms around her and pulled her close. There was something perversely comforting about her smaller frame being encompassed by this giant brute. "Ever been blacked, honey?" he asked looking into her eyes.

"What?" responded Caroline.

"Ever been fucked by a black dude? Well, have you, bitch?"

"No." replied Caroline. "Not ever." It was a lie, but she had never told Bill about the library janitor with the big cock she had fucked on a regular basis while at college, and now was not the time to reveal hidden aspects of her sexual history.

"Ah, baby. You've been missing out. You ain't been fucked until your snatch's had a big, black cock buried inside it." As he spoke, he put down his beer on the nightstand and used his hand to slowly pump on his cock. To Caroline's surprise, for he had only just shot his load into her mouth, his dick began to respond almost immediately. In no time at all, it was fully erect again and reaching up past his bellybutton.

In one fluid movement, he picked Caroline up by the waist and tossed her onto the bed, so she was face forward with her arse up in the air. Then he tore off her panties as if they were made of tissue paper and brought the head of his cock to her pussy lips.

"Wait, wait!" Caroline cried out. "I'm not ready. I can't take that. It's too big. It will... It will break me!"

"Hush now, baby," replied Tyrone. "I'll be gentle. Besides, you're cunt's plenty wet already. The old hammer here will just slide in. You'll be thanking me before I'm finished. You're going to be on the receiving end of the fucking of a lifetime."

Tyrone rubbed his cock along the edge of her pussy lips for a while, making her even wetter, before using his rod to slap her on the butt-cheeks a couple of times. His organ was so big and hard, it felt as if she was being struck with a paddle.