Wrong Side of the Tracks

Dawn was upon us when my car slowly ground to a halt. The air was hot and humid. The faint sound of Gangster Rap music played in the distance, drifting down from a high-rise tower block of flats. My wife and I had broken down in a rundown part of town, on the wrong side of the tracks. We had been on our way to a house party, in a far more affluent and less diverse area than the one in which we currently found ourselves. A wrong turn somewhere on the outskirts of town had led us here, and the car trouble would keep us here for a short while at least.

"Oh, Arnie! What the bloody hell's wrong now?" my wife snapped at me, in her posh London accent, her eyes full of scorn and anger.

She has always been the same, my wife Diane. Whenever things go wrong, it's always my fault. Although I must admit: it usually is. I can be rather inept and clumsy at times, and the more nervous or anxious I get the worse my incompetence becomes. Diane never misses a chance to point out my lack of competence so she can belittle and embarrass me. Usually she saves it up until we're in the company of friends or family to point out my ineptitude to ensure maximum humiliation. Over the years, though, I have become so used to being subjected to her verbal degradation that I now, strangely enough, take a certain pleasure from it.

"Sorry, darling, it must be the cam belt or something," I sighed. "I'll call the breakdown service."

"Bloody right you will!" she barked. "Do you know, you're the most useless person I've ever had the misfortune to meet."

Picking up my phone, I scrolled through the contacts, searching for the breakdown service.

Diane glared out the car window for a moment, a look of disgust on her pretty face. "And what is this ramshackle place you've stranded us in? It looks absolutely ghastly. Good heavens, there's even graffiti on the walls."

Looking out the window, I could see she was right about one thing: this part of town was unfamiliar to us both and did look somewhat daunting. The streets were empty, yet strewn with litter. All the shops were closed, their windows barred with metal rods.

A shiver of dread ran through me and I groaned loudly when I realised I had no signal on my phone.

"I-I-I'm sorry, dear, but I don't seem to have a signal."

Her eyes turned skywards in exasperation. "Good grief," she whined shrilly. "I despair -- I really do. What is wrong with you, Arnie? Can you not do anything right?"

Then she sat in sullen silence, her arms folded under her large chest in a gesture of defiance, pushing her breasts upwards and giving me a tantalising view of her cleavage. She had on a low-cut dress the same shade of red as her lipstick and nail polish, big hoop earrings and a very expensive pair of shimmering gold Jimmy Choo sandals. And the smell of her perfume -- whatever it was -- was truly intoxicating.

I felt my tiny penis swell with sudden lust. Squirming and shifting awkwardly in my seat, I found myself wishing we were back home, where she could take her frustrations out on me properly; tie me up and thrash me with her cat o' nine tails whilst belittling me with her cruel words.

I steeled myself to leave the car and look for a phone box when a dark car pulled up behind us. For a fleeting moment I thought it might be the police. But as we sat there in silence, watching the seconds tick by and seeing no movement from behind, it seemed unlikely that this person was here to help.

The lack of activity from the car was becoming more concerning by the minute. Staring at the car in my rear-view-mirror, I pressed the central locking button to secure the doors, just as it started to pull away. It moved out and pulled up alongside us. Its windows were open. Reggae music blared from the interior, drowning out the Rap music from the block of flats. The two black occupants wore dark glasses and baseball caps, despite the fact it was now dark outside. The guy in the passenger seat was mouthing something to me, so, not wishing to antagonise the men, I pushed the button and wound down my window.

"You gotta a problem, there, man?" the passenger shouted, trying to be heard above the din of Reggae music.

"Tell him what's wrong then," hissed my wife, breaking her silence. "Maybe then we'll be able to get out of this godforsaken place."

Since the occupants of the car seemed reluctant to moderate the volume of their music, it took me several minutes of expansive arm gestures and yelling to convey my current dilemma. Eventually they understood and climbed out the car to retrieve a towrope from their boot. I realised then that they were going to tow us away, preferably to the nearest payphone so we could call for help. Within minutes, one of the large black men had fastened the rope to our car and the tow bar of his friend's vehicle.

They were both big, burly men, with a slightly exotic, if menacing look about them.

"That's ever so kind of you," I said, trying to keep the tremor from my voice, "but if we could have access to a phone I could ring the breakdown service. I wouldn't want to be too much of a bother to..."

"Nah, that's okay, man," replied the driver with a wide grin. "I'm a good driver. And Leroy, here, is a great mechanic. We'll tow you to our friend's garage; see if we can fix it for ya. My name's Jerome, by the way."

"Thanks, Jerome," I said, feeling anxious. "I'm Arnie, and this here is my wife -- Diane."

"Nice to meet you both," he said, reaching in and shaking my hand vigorously in his large black fist, nearly ripping my shoulder out the socket in the process.

Diane leaned over me so she could speak to Jerome. "Thank you ever so much for your help. I must say, I find your Reggae music rather fetching. I myself have a Madness LP at home that I'm rather fond of. I sometimes listen to it when I've been on the sherry."

The two black men looked at each other, a grin of mirth playing over their big, sweaty faces.

Diane continued, "Would it be awfully rude of me to ask your friend Leroy if he would ride in our car, with us? It's just, I'm feeling a little nervous and anxious being here, in this shanty town, and I'd feel much safer with a big, strong man here to watch over me."

The two black men fell about laughing as my heart leaped with joy. My wife had never encountered black men before and it seemed she had taken an immediate shine to them.

"Yeah, I'll ride with you guys. That's no problem."

"Marvellous," beamed Diane, exiting the passenger seat and jumping in the back of the car. "Jolly good, now hop in the back with me, if you would."

The introductions complete, I released my handbrake and felt the car pull off. Leroy was sitting directly behind me, with my wife next to him behind the passenger seat. I adjusted my rear-view mirror so I could keep an eye on them. She was gazing across at Leroy as though he was some kind of rare, exotic creature, biting her bottom lip with an expression of intrigue plastered all over her face.

"I've never encountered a real-life black man before," she said, finally breaking the awkward silence. "Obviously I've seen them on the TV -- in movies and whatnot -- but never in the flesh."

"Ah, there's lots of us about," replied Leroy. "You just gotta go to the right places to find us." "Yes, quite," Diane said softly, still staring at him with that intense gaze. "Gosh, your arms are frightfully big. Do you lift weights in the gym?"

"Yeah, I like to keep myself trim and buff, for the ladies."

"Oh, yes, no doubt. Would you be awfully offended if I had a quick feel of your arm? I've never seen muscles that big before. I must say, they look ever so scrummy."

"You can touch any part of me you like, girl. I'm all yours," Leroy sighed.

She gave a bashful giggle as she squeezed and stroked Leroy's big, muscular arm. "Your arms are delightful," she enthused. "I rather like that big, masculine vein running through your bicep. It looks fetching, I must say."

"Ay, I gotta another big muscle with a vein running through it, if ya wonna see that as well."

"Oh, go on then. Be a good sport and let me see."

The loud gasp and the exuberant "Golly gosh!" from my wife's mouth told me that Leroy had exposed his meaty manhood for my wife's inspection.

My wife was sitting behind the passenger seat, so I glanced over my shoulder to look at her. The usual contemptuous expression had left her face and had been replaced by a look of sheer shock and elation. Her head was turned sideways, gazing down at our companion's rudely exposed trouser snake, her long, brown hair falling about her shoulders and partly obscuring her profile. Her whole demeanour had changed since Leroy had entered the car; her body language spoke of desire and her eyes twinkled with what I can only describe as unbridled lust.

A tense silence filled the car as I drove, constantly glancing in my rear-view mirror to delight in my wife's expression of utter joy and surprise.

After a few minutes, she broke the silence. "By jove, it looks truly beastly yet delectable all at once. I've never seen one so big before. Is it still soft?"

"Yeah," Leroy laughed with a smug grin. "But you can touch it if you like. That should breathe some life into him."

"Righto!" exclaimed Diane, wasting no time in putting her hands to work on Leroy's mammoth tool.

I had long since accepted my wife's illicit love affairs, but this open flirting and fondling, right in front of me, was something new to us both. My mind began to wander as we drove. Diane had never bothered to hide her infidelities. On many occasions I had returned home unexpectedly to find her either being fucked over the back of our Chesterfield sofa in our love den, on her knees with a large cock buried inside her throat, or in many other compromising sexual positions with strange men. She had never apologised for her unfaithfulness. If she ever did comment it was usually to say something about the fact that she needed more of a man than I was, to satisfy her needs. On my part, I have never been jealous. Instead I have found myself becoming more and more aroused by seeing her with other men. The sight of her pretty face lighting up with glee when she feasted eyes on Leroy's mighty cock gave me a warm comforting feeling that flooded through my veins like a warm blanket.

But then my heart was in my mouth, as Jerome drove his car at almost breakneck speed, screeching around corner after corner, leading us through a labyrinth of narrow back streets. I struggled to control my own car, but it did little to distinguish the flames of passion in the back seat. The frisky frolicking of the budding lovers was still emanating from behind me -- sounds of sighs and giggles and excited shrieks.

A particularly tight corner had slung Diane across the back seat, and her face had mashed against Leroy's cock, Diane screeching shrilly with excitement, "Good heavens, it nearly went in my mouth then!"

And Leroy replying "Pull back the foreskin and kiss him on the head. He'll like that."

Ten minutes later, we pulled into a small courtyard and stopped. I had to hit the brakes hard to avoid colliding into the back of Jerome. My brow was damp with cold sweat as I applied the hand brake and, opening the driver's door, climbed out into the warm night air.

"Come on," said Diane, exiting the car and tugging on Leroy's arm. "Let's go somewhere private. I'd like to get better acquainted with that ginourmous tonker-toy in your underpants."

Diane, looking resplendent in her red satin evening dress, grabbed Jerome's arm, too, hauling him along to make a threesome, exclaiming, "Two's better than one!"

I watched, my eyes wide and mouth agape, flabbergasted to see my wife so eager and willing to take on the two black bulls. Her red dress flittered behind her, opening the split in the side, revealing a tantalising portion of her creamy white thigh. She had refused to wear stockings or tights, claiming it was too warm. Plus she quite liked the idea of her naked leg protruding sexily from the silky material, turning the heads of all the men and arousing the ire of the women.

She looked so beautiful, so delicate, so prim and proper. Knowing she was about to be fucked senseless by two black brutes seemed to defy all logic -- I bet they couldn't believe their luck.

The two coloured men led her to a door inside a grotty looking garage, through which they disappeared, leaving me in the company of a third black man, the guy that owned the garage. He extended his hand and introduced himself as Douglas. He was another black man, but much older than the other two, with a bushy grey beard and a toothless smile. He was of slight build and wore filthy dungaree overalls smeared with engine oil and grease.

He popped the bonnet and inspected my car. "It's the fuel pump," he said. "I can fix it, but it'll take a while."

"How much do I owe you?"

Just then Diane's faint cries of pleasure drifted through the warm air. "Oh God, Oh shit, please slow down! Good God, you're splitting me in two. You're hurting me, you big brute. Ah-ah-ah-ah, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Douglas gave me a wide, toothless grin. "I think Jerome and Leroy are getting paid right now, don't you? That wife of yours is one dirty bitch. Jerome told me on the phone on the way over here that she never even seen a black man before tonight. You'll never satisfy her again, now she's sampled the black meat. You know that, right?"

It pained me but he was right. My head dropped forward and I stared at the floor.

More voices drifted from the back office of the garage. "You like that black cock in your white upper-class pussy, don't you, bitch!"

Douglas laughed. "Why don't you go and enjoy the show. I'll be along for my payment as soon as I've finished here."

Douglas could see the excitement in my eyes and the tiny erection tenting my trousers. I wanted to watch my bitch of a wife get fucked senseless by the black men, impaling her body with their large ebony rods and squirting copious amounts of black-baby-making gunk all over her delicate white body. I followed the screams of passion to an office door at the back of the garage.

Standing outside and gazing through a dirty, grease-stained window, I was greeted by the sight of my wife, down on her knees on a desk with Leroy behind her fucking her hard. She was still fully clothed, her dress hitched up to her waist and her panties dangling around one ankle, as Leroy battered her body with his black tool. He was pounding into her from behind, fucking her furiously and without mercy. I could see she was pain, struggling to adapt to the violent intrusion. Her face was scrunched up and she made a yelping sound every time Leroy thrust his mighty weapon into her tight and tender depths.

Jerome was observing proceedings when he caught sight of me. "Come in here, man. Watch us ruin your posh little slut of a wife. She'll be walking bow-legged for a fucking week after we're done with her."

As I entered the room, I heard Leroy increase the speed of his thrusts, the slapping sound resonating around the room like applause. Diane squealed in response, so Leroy fisted his hand in her hair and tugged her head back before raining down several hard smacks to her bared backside.

"Good heavens! Ah-ah-ah! Oh, you animal," exclaimed Diane.

Leroy started grunting like a wild pig just before he deposited a copious amount of baby-making fluid deep into my wife's unprotected womb, making squelching sounds as her soaked pussy filled with spunk, taking on the consistency of a slosh pot.

My attention was locked on my wife, who had immediately turned over and was lying on her back on the table propped up slightly and resting on her elbows. Thick liquid trickled from the gaping hole between her legs. Her pussy had been stretched to unfathomable limits. She was breathing heavy, gazing over at Jerome and inviting him to take his turn. The black man quickly discarded his clothes, as I watched on with bated breath and a raging hard-on. I gasped as I mentally compared Jerome's bulky appendage swinging menacingly between his legs with my own rather pathetic specimen.

Jerome stood by the table next to Diane's head, grasped her hair and pulled her face towards his semi-erect cock. She tongued the bellend tentatively and I saw it twitch and swell. Leroy, now catching his second wind, joined them and roughly shoved his hand down the front of her dress. I could see the muscles in his arm bulge and flex as he mauled her large breasts and tweaked the nipples under the fabric.

Gazing back at Jerome, I noticed he was now fully erect and gently working the head of his chunky rod between Diane's red-painted lips. Her mouth was stretched to its limits yet she still had difficulty enveloping the entire bulbous head inside. Leroy suddenly and violently yanked the front of her dress down, exposing two large, pale, braless breasts.

"Girl, you are buff!" exclaimed Leroy excitedly, squeezing and plunking her cheery-red nipples. "These titties are ripe, man."

Diane moaned as her tender buds were manipulated and manhandled, the sound muffled by the mouthful of black meat filling her mouth. Jerome took this as an opportunity to cram his cock firmly into her throat. "C'mon, Leroy, get her clothes off, man. Let's see how buff this bitch is."

Complying with the demand, Leroy moved round the table and grabbed the slit at the side of her dress and ripped it apart at the seam. The tearing noise filled the air of the small room. The silky fabric split upwards, exposing more and more of her long, slender legs, until her brown thatch of pubic hair and gaping fuck-hole, still leaking from Leroy's earlier deposit, was fully exposed. Leroy laughed as he gazed down at my wife's well-fucked cunt that now looked like an axe wound glistering in the light from an overhead bulb.

Jerome moaned as he continued to thrust his engorged weapon in and out of Diane's mouth, smearing her red lipstick all over his black shaft. "You're gonna get a face full of cum in a minute," he gasped.

I saw Jerome's face contort as he ploughed his throbbing meat into her throat, over and over, making her choke and gag every time he thrust forward. My cock was aching in my underpants as I watch the two black brutes treat my wife like a little fuck-toy.

Without warning, Leroy buried three fingers deep inside Diane's pussy and twisted them cruelly, widening her even more and flicking his thumb over her engorged clitoris. This caused Diane to arch her back, lifting her buttocks off the grimy table. Jerome held her head as she groaned loudly around his cock. Her body convulsed, her arse bucking up and down as Leroy fucked her with his fingers. As she reached climax, Jerome gave a guttural groan and pulled his cock from her mouth. With one hand he held her head in place, while with the other he slipped back the foreskin along his slick shaft.

The first eruption hit my wife on the forehead. Quickly adjusting his aim, he squirted three more jets, coating her mouth and tongue. Still bucking her hips as her orgasm continued, Diane gulped down as much of Jerome's sticky seed as she could, but inevitably, as it kept splashing her face, the semen began to trickle down her chin. She gasped and spluttered, more semen seeping from her mouth, and lurched into yet another orgasm.

When he eventually finished coming, Jerome wiped his slippery cock over her breasts and nipples, streaking her pale skin, the tiny buds of her nipples hardening.

"Man, that bitch's pussy is smoking hot," said a voice from behind me. I turned and saw Douglas wiping his greasy hands on a filthy rag, grinning his toothless grin. "The car's finished, so I think it's 'bout time I had my turn." Douglas's overalls fell around his ankles and he yanked his underwear down.