A Picture in Black and White

I could imagine the extent of her frustration. Having undressed in the lounge, and been caressed in the elevator, and then undressing again at his command, and finally forced to perform oral sex... Charles must have brought her to the brink of orgasm several times, and he had barely brought his hand or tongue or penis even close to her pussy.

In fact, I didn't have to imagine it. I could see it in her body as she lay on the edge of the bed, now on her stomach, staring up at Charles. The color was high in her cheeks, her eyes sparkling, the flush of sexual excitement having spread itself across nearly all of her body. Her nipples remained taut and erect, and she stared longingly at Charles, first up at his face, and then back at his stiff, bobbing penis.

Charles then changed tack.

"Will you do as I say if I promise to make love to you at the end?" Charles asked her, darting a quick glance in my direction as he posed the question. I held my breath again at the implications of the request, and looked over expectantly at my wife.

Considering all that had gone on so far, Charles' question -- and what I was sure would be Brigitte's answer --seemed a trifle academic. I mean, really. Still, I chose to say nothing for the moment.

Brigitte looked up at him and murmured, "Yes," looking hopeful -- but then at least had the good grace to shoot me a brief, guilty glance. Looking at her, I thought I could detect in her eyes a request for permission, or forgiveness, or a touch of both.

Having told them both that what was agreeable to her was agreeable to me, I didn't exactly have much of a leg to stand on. So I kept my mouth shut, but nodded gently at my wife, to indicate that it was all right.

Charles pondered this turn of events for a moment before saying anything. My impression was that he intended to get the maximum possible visual impact out of whatever it was he chose to have her do -- mostly for my benefit. And, at the same time, to tease and arouse her to the maximum extent possible, to wind her up nearly to the breaking point, to burn the sensuality and tension and pure physicality of the evening deeply into her memory.

At the same time, I was beginning to believe that his own physical pleasure and release was -- by this point -- absolutely irrelevant to him. In spite of his earlier arousal and the way that Brigitte nearly brought him to the edge, I think that he didn't really care whether he was ultimately satisfied.

No. I think he had bigger things in mind -- longer term, deeper and somewhat darker in their implications and, ultimately, more profound in their pleasure. I had the sensation that this evening had suddenly turned, that it had become a mere prelude to something both more intimate, and more grand. I thought I could suddenly detect the spinning of a web -- soft, and welcoming, but as strong as steel. But, for the moment, presented with this tableau before me, I let the thought slip into the back of my mind.

"Very well, then," Charles said, cutting into my brief reverie. "Brigitte, come over here," he ordered. Slowly, reluctantly she got up from the bed and stood at the foot of it, waiting for his next request. He looked her up and down, and then said, "Go over and lean over Bruce's chair. Put your head in his lap, please."

Brigitte sucked in her breath and then slowly walked over to me -- naked, beautiful, aroused -- and stood in front of me as I sat leaning back in the soft leather chair. She seemed uncertain of what to do next, but Charles did not leave her wondering for long.

"Lean over the chair, as I said," he commanded. Brigitte did as he asked, and brought her head down to within inches of my lap. I reached out and caressed her soft brown hair, brushing it back from her forehead. She refused to catch my eye, and instead stared downward, suddenly once again embarrassed. As she did, I watched as Charles moved up behind her, closing the distance. His hard, black body was a startlingly arousing contrast against my wife's soft white skin, and the picture it presented continued to make my head spin. Suddenly he was mere inches behind her. He reached down, and gently grasped each of her thighs, parting them...forcing her to stand with her legs wide apart. As he did, he murmured, "Put your ass as high in the air as you can." I sucked in my breath once again, and Brigitte, too, gasped. But she did as he said.

She leant over further, closer to my lap, and splayed her legs out more widely. Then she pushed her ass up, and out, as Charles had ordered. I reached down, and whispered to her.

"You are absolutely stunning, my love," I said softly, and continued to brush her hair back, to study her lovely face. Still she refused to meet my eye -- excited, obviously, beyond her control, and deeply embarrassed about it. "I want nothing more than for you to enjoy yourself," I whispered in her ear, and as I said it I could feel her relax slightly. I suddenly realized that, as embarrassed as she might be, what she really wanted and needed was my approval -- that I was not upset, or jealous, about the things that Charles was making her do. About the things that she was willingly and wantonly doing.

On the contrary. But I needed to convince her of that, and as I sat stroking her hair, and whispering into her ear, I could begin to see that, indeed, she was beginning to understand that. As I saw her relax, I whispered again in her ear. "I want only your pleasure, sweetheart."

She responded to my remark by reaching down and unzipping my pants...by yanking them down quickly, and sliding my briefs down my hips. She had no trouble doing so, as I was as eager as she was and ached enormously for relief. My cock sprung free -- harder and thicker and longer than I had ever felt it before. It stood out enormously erect...and my wife responded by sinking her lips over it, trying to suck as much of it into her mouth as she could. And that was when Charles cut in.

"Brigitte, you're not allowed to suck Bruce's cock yet," he said quietly and firmly.

How dare he? I thought furiously, and Brigitte looked up questioningly.

Chapter XIX

What is going on? I wondered, and then asked the question out loud.

"What the hell are you doing, Charles?" I demanded, my cock inches from my wife's mouth, waiting to enter it again -- and being denied.

"I don't want her to suck your cock yet," he said simply. "I want her to do it only when I say," he added.

I nearly exploded in frustration. Brigitte looked up at me, again questioningly, and I could tell she wondered what was happening. She did not have long to wait.

"Do as I say, Brigitte," he said with an even firmer tone to his voice, and both of us took notice. "Reach back and spread your cheeks for me."

Brigitte colored again, this time for me. I'm sure a part of her looked down on the lewd scene and realized that her only defense was a deep blush: Her head in my lap, looking up at me, being denied a husband's penis that was only inches from her lips... and being ordered -- outrageously -- to spread herself for another man.

But she did as he said. She actually did exactly as he said.

Still averting my gaze, my cock inches from her lips, I watched as she closed her eyes and reached back and pulled her cheeks apart for the man standing behind her. Charles studied the picture before him.

"Wider," he said with authority. Brigitte moaned.

But once again she did as he said, without hesitation. I could see her strain to pull her cheeks apart, to open her ass to him. And as she did, he moved in closer to her.

Unable to see what was happening, I could only imagine the sight of them as he pressed up against her. Fireworks exploded in my head.

As if reading my mind, Charles said to her, "Brigitte, describe what I'm doing."

My lovely wife gulped hard, and slowly shook her head from side to side, embarrassed at having to tell her husband what this black man was doing to her.

"Tell him," Charles said again, his voice husky and deep. Brigitte moaned again.

"He's..." she began. "He's..." The words stuck in her throat.

"What am I doing, Brigitte?" Charles asked her again, rhetorically.

"You're...oooohhh...." The words trailed off...

"What am I doing, my dear?" Charles asked again, much more firmly this time. Brigitte suddenly realized that she had no choice but to explain.

"He's...oh, honey, he's putting..." she tried to catch her breath again, and then paused, blushing furiously. And then suddenly the words cascaded out.

"He's putting his penis in me... in my... Oh, Bruce, he's... he's... he's fucking me. He's putting it in my bottom... in my ass... It's, it's... Oh, God, his cock is so...his cock is so...Oh, my God, it's so big! Oh...!" she began to yell, her nearly incoherent descriptions building to a crescendo. "Please...please! Oh, God. Oh God. Oh, Charles...harder...please!" she screamed.

I could see the deep blush once again flood my beautiful wife's face and neck...her nipples tight, pinched, more erect than ever, her eyes closed, her head thrown back, her mouth slack and open -- stunned and thrilled with the realization that a black man's cock was sliding into her anus for the first time. It did not take much to realize that she was excited beyond belief -- and also mortified by the degree of that excitement.

I was stunned, and just a trifle bothered. After all, she had told me that she no longer wanted to take my cock in her ass...that it caused too much discomfort. My fingers, yes; my tongue, yes; but not my cock. I was resigned to a life of merely imagining the grip of her tight anus locked around the base of my cock...of the snugness and heat of her rectum. Of the intimacy of taking my spouse in the most private way possible.

And here was a handsome black man, a virtual stranger she'd just met, slowly but steadily taking my wife exactly that way.

And she was screaming at him to fuck her!

My exposed cock jerked in excitement at the sight and sound of it all. I ached to thrust it into her mouth, to have her suck me. To have her show me how much she liked my cock.

But I held back. Charles had told her not to, and I suddenly realized, with a sinking feeling, that she would do as he said. If he told her not to touch it, she wouldn't. If he told her to do something, she would. Suddenly, the simplicity of the equation hit me. And shocked me.

"How far up your ass am I, Brigitte?" Charles asked huskily. I looked up at him. I could see him straining, pushing, obviously eager to force the length of his long, thick penis into my wife's tight, hot rectum.

"Ooohhh," was all she said, moaning furiously, eyes still closed, licking her lips. She must have been extremely tight, and still not entirely relaxed. And I knew Charles must have wanted to push hard, to feel the heat of her bowels engulf the entire length of his cock.

Suddenly Charles stopped pushing. Another wicked grin appeared on his face. "Brigitte?" he said, and she looked up briefly, eyes still closed. "God," was all she replied..."Please... " she added. Her words trailed off again, replaced by a deep sigh.

"Brigitte, I'm going to hold still," he said. "I want you to move yourself against me."

Charles' order once again took my breath away. This man was going to make me watch my wife fuck herself on his cock. Use his cock. Willingly screw herself for their mutual pleasure. I looked over at her, wondering what she'd do. Worried about it. Harder than ever at the prospect of it.

"Nnnn....ooohhhh..." she started, and then, eyes still closed, licking her lips, said said, more quietly, "Yesssss...."

Chapter XX

My heart -- or maybe it was my stomach -- did a double flip once again. My wife, I had just realized, was going to do anything he requested, no matter how shameful or intimate. My head spun. This was a different woman than the one I thought I had known. Utterly different. How had I missed the raw, sexual passion this woman possessed? What set it off? How unobservant, or unimaginative, had I been or become? Why had she shown no sign of this abandon and eroticism before? The questions made my head hurt.

I quickly realized, though, that I would certainly not gain answers to any of them right now. They would be best saved for a later, more reflective time, well away from the emotions and sexuality at play in front of me.

Brigitte was already straining, pushing back against Charles, onto his erect penis, trying to force it deeper into her bottom. Then she stopped, and pulled forward slightly, perhaps to try and create the momentum that would ease her open and allow him access into her waiting bowels.

But it was clear even from where I sat that it was not going in easily. He was too big. She was too tight. And there obviously wasn't enough lubrication to allow his cock to slide into her -- to do what needed to be done. I had to do something – to help her.

Slowly, I pushed Brigitte's head and shoulders back, forcing her to stand upright – although with knees still bent, still crouching over. It was not as I wanted, but I had to stand up. Painfully and awkwardly I did so, tucking my erect cock into my pants. Charles looked up briefly, quizzically, but I gave him a brief nod and my look reassured him. I had to help them.

I stood up, and walked over painfully, my cock still throbbing, to the bathroom. Brigitte and Charles had briefly interrupted their passionate embrace and were, I believe, holding still to see what I was up to.

I did not disappoint them. I quickly found what I was looking for in my toilet kit, and returned to them. I had to hurry. I couldn't bear to see my wife in any degree of discomfort. And I couldn't bear to see her delay her own pleasure.

As I approached them, I reached down and quickly pulled the nozzle of the bottle open. It was lubricating liquid, slick and glistening, designed for just these occasions. I had bought it for – well, for this sort of moment? Who could tell? The truth was, it looked useful when I found it in the drugstore, and the present situation made me look prescient in the extreme. I smiled to myself as I flicked open the nozzle and poured a generous amount into my hand. I approached the two of them.

Both Brigitte and Charles were once again grunting, straining. His cock, hard and long, still sought to probe my wife's hot bottom, but was getting nowhere. They both turned and looked at me as I approached, and stopped for a moment, expectantly.

I knelt down between them, pouring yet more of the slippery liquid into both palms as I did so. Both of them held still, not sure what would happen next.

I did not delay their anticipation.

With my left hand full of the lubricant, I reached up between them – to where Charles' hard, black cock penetrated my wife's tight anus. The picture was sublime. I wanted to paint it, to photograph it... to cherish it. To lick it...

Instead, I reached up with both hands, gently cupping Brigitte's ass in one hand and Charles' balls in the other. Both hands were slick and glistening with the slippery liquid. Slowly, I rubbed it onto their skin...

I moved my hands around slowly, carefully, making sure that the slick oil covered every inch of their joined bodies. I slipped my fingers around Brigitte's stretched anus, tracing my index finger around the rim...making sure the oil covered Charles' thick dick where it entered her. I even slipped a finger into her tight ring, between his cock and her hole, eliciting a gasp from both of them.

Then I reached down with one hand, picked up the bottle, and poured yet more of the glistening lubricant into my palm. As Charles began to move more easily into Brigitte, aided by the thick, slippery liquid, I reached up again. This time I focused solely on his shaft, knowing that his passage into my wife would only be made easier by one thing – and that I wanted her pleasure above all.

Without embarrassment or hesitation, I reached up with my hand, covered in oil, and grasped his shaft. Slowly and surely, I held him, sliding my left hand up and down his thick shaft. Each time he slid out of my wife's ass I stroked him, trying to coat his hard dick with as much oil as I could. His thick, black penis glistened in the soft light.

With my other hand I reached up and gently, tentatively, once again cupped his balls. Then, with gathering confidence, I began to rub them, massaging the oil into his sac. I could feel it tighten as I did it, running my fingers around his balls, tracing the separation of them, gently grasping one, then the other. And, with my left hand on his shaft, I could feel him get harder and thicker at my touch. I smiled to myself. I was pushing him over the edge. I was going to make him cum in my wife.

And then, with a wicked thought, I did something completely unnatural for me. I reached down, both hands still slick with the thick lubricant, and began to rub it into my own cock, making it slick, hard... ready for penetration.

Chapter XXI

I stood behind Charles, gently massaging the warm, viscous liquid into my erect cock. The sensation was exquisite, sublime... and dangerous. With all the previous excitement and lewd display, I knew that just touching my penis would make me come in a matter of seconds. And I wasn't ready to yet.

So I applied just enough to thoroughly coat my entire shaft, from head to root, making sure every bit of it was glistening and slick. Slowly, almost agonizingly, I stroked it back and forth, teasing myself to the edge of orgasm, and then stopping. Then, gently stroking it again, bringing myself once more to the edge.

When the waves of heat and tension and the urge for release got too great, I stopped. I slid my hand down to my tight balls, rubbing the oil into my sac, around and around, coating them, rubbing them. Making them slippery and slick, and glistening in the light. And then I stopped.

I turned away from myself and looked back at Charles and Brigitte, debating my next move. My stiff cock, greased and ready, ached for the tight, welcoming snugness of a warm cunt – or a warm ass. Charles stood before me, slowly and steadily easing his black dick up my wife's ass, and I couldn't decide. I ached to fuck my wife – but Charles was already fucking her. She moaned with each thrust, obviously enthralled with the feel of his thick dick in her tight bottom. And, positioned as she was, bent over, it wasn't going to be easy for me to slip my cock into her cunt.

And I was sorely tempted. I had teased her many times about taking two, or three, cocks at once, and knew, from the way her nipples quickly hardened when I whispered the idea, that the prospect excited her. I wanted her, above all, to experience that.

And it was true that the prospect of being able to rub my erect cock against Charles' own shaft while we were both inside Brigitte, penetrating her, was thrilling in the extreme.

But part of me ached to do something even more outrageous. After all, she and I, at least, were certainly entering new sexual worlds this evening. It seemed silly, at this moment, to let classic inhibitions and fading cultural mores to dictate our pleasure – or lack thereof. I wanted to find a way to join the three of us together in one long, explosive and shameless orgasm. To probe as deeply as possible into the pleasures of the moment and the flesh, with no thought to the future.

Yet, as wild as it sounds to say it now – considering what we were doing, after all – I decided to take a more conservative approach. I left Charles to his devices for the moment, tempting as it was to take control of him in the way I'd just been envisioning. Instead, I moved around the two of them, still gently stroking my cock, still massaging in the thick, slippery liquid.

I stepped just in front of Brigitte and, taking her arms, slowly led them both over to the edge of the bed. Charles, magnificently, remained deep inside her, still hard, as we slowly moved together. At the edge of the bed, I laid down on my back, my slick, hard cock pointing straight upward. Gently I pulled Brigitte toward me. Gracefully, she first put one knee on the bed, then the other, still managing to keep Charles snugly inside her. They seemed to move as one body, anticipating each others' next steps. She slid slowly up over me, on her knees, with Charles immediately behind her.