Don Lewis - Two-way wife

For a few minutes, I watched Susan and Jimmy, jealousy burning within me. Then I decided to try to enjoy myself the best I could. I looked around at their house and at the crowd, trying to figure out what sort of evening it would be.

The house surprised me. Jimmy and Cynthia didn't seem militant. Sexually, they seemed to enjoy fucking and sucking with white people.

There had been some cruelty in the way Jimmy had tormented Karen while fucking her a few weeks before. At the last party we had attended, for no reason, Cynthia called me a bitch while we were in the middle of eating each other's cunts. They had hinted at some resentment of whites, but it had all been vague, indistinct, only implicitly there, hinted at, but not made explicit.

Their house made me wonder how they really felt. On the walls of their living room were pictures of the most militant of the black leaders. On their bookshelves were all the volumes that made up the library of black revolution. It was all there, books about separatism, oppression, riot, revolution. Yet these two blacks obviously enjoyed getting it on with white men and women. I couldn't figure it out, but somehow their militancy made them all the more attractive and, in Jimmy's case, at least, all the more of a threat. If he was hostile to whites, he would think nothing of making us suffer. The obvious way to make Mike and me suffer was to interfere with our relationship with Susan. I shivered and felt a sense of foreboding, of doom.

Jimmy had begun to undress Susan and everyone had crowded in close to watch. Slowly, ever so slowly, he unzipped her dress. It was as if he were emphasizing to the rest of us that he was in control, that this prize was his and that everyone else could see her only when he was ready for them to see her. He could have told her to strip. Or he could have ripped her clothes off. It was significant, I thought, that he undressed her leisurely himself.

When he had finally unzipped Susan's dress, Jimmy reached one hand inside and caressed her big tits. Again, he was demonstrating his mastery. Everyone expected him to pull her dress down, to show her naked body to us, but he showed us all that he could and would do as he pleased.

Susan moaned softly and tried to move her body against him. He stepped back slightly and continued to rub her tits. Then he moved closer to her, unzipped his fly, and took out his ebony prick. Susan looked down at his erect dong and her tongue played suggestively across her lips. Then she grabbed his rod with both hands and began to rub it, softly at first, then more vigorously.

We all watched, transfixed and envious, although I'm sure Mike and I were more envious than anyone else there because we felt that Susan was rightly ours. We didn't realize that our possessiveness was the catalyst that had changed her feelings about us, that had sent her to others.

Jimmy was ready to undress her completely now. He pulled her dress off her shoulders. He kissed each shoulder lightly, then pulled the dress down to her waist, letting her tits loose from the confines of her dress. Most men would have been on them immediately, feeling them, kissing them, rubbing their cheeks against the smooth flesh of her cleavage, but Jimmy was different. He had too much control, too much sense of drama for that, and probably, too much of a need to torture the rest of us, to leave us standing there waiting in an agony of expectation to see what he would do next.

He stared at her tits while she continued to rub his big black cock. She must have expected him to be on them already because she opened her eyes. She looked at him standing motionless in front of her, staring at her boobs. Her nipples got hard and erect from the sight of him staring at her so coolly and from the feel of his erect prick in her hands. He hadn't even touched her nipples, but they poked out like little fingertips from her ripe jugs.

Mike and I watched silently, our frustration and jealousy burning inside us. Jimmy was torturing us, making us suffer, and he was enjoying it. Susan's acquiescence increased our pain.

He proceeded in his slow disrobing of Susan. He pulled her dress down to her hips, then lower and lower, until her beaver came into view, first the top of her bush, the first dark, curly hairs, then the full thicket.

Now the dress was below her naked cunt. Just like the little slut not to wear panties, I thought to myself. I missed the irony of it. I hadn't worn anything at all under my coat at one party. And I hadn't worn panties when Martha had visited me.

Susan continued to rub on Jimmy's dark, menacing rod. His cock was long enough and thick enough to keep both her hands busy. Her white fingers contrasted sharply with the black flesh of his tool.

Jimmy pulled her dress down to her knees. "Take it all the way off," he commanded.

Susan did as he ordered. She was naked now, totally, alluringly, breathtakingly naked. Every eye in the room was on her. She didn't seem to mind the attention. What had happened to the shy innocence she had seemed to possess when she had first become a member of our household? From the first, her innocence had a way of disappearing completely when it suited her. Was it the result of inexperience as I had first thought, or was it the consequence of deliberate artifice as I had occasionally suspected?

Jimmy stepped away from her, leaving her hands grasping for his cock. Earlier, as everyone stared at her, Susan must have felt the master of her fate. Jimmy's behavior was calculated to destroy that illusion. He had to show her, and everyone else present, that he was master. He wanted to punish us for the hurt white men had inflicted on blacks throughout American history. Hence, he left her grabbing for his cock and getting only empty air. Her frustration emphasized his superiority.

Jimmy stepped out of his clothing quickly, gracefully. His glistening, muscular black body was now naked. I wondered what would happen next.

"Get down on your knees and suck my cock," Jimmy ordered. His voice indicated that it had been a command, not a suggestion.

Susan looked at him in surprise. No one had ever spoken to her that way. I think her first instinct at that point was to disobey him, but her desire to punish Mike and me and to teach us a lesson, along with her desire to devour some black meat, compensated for her resentment at being ordered about like a slave.

"Hurry up, you honky cunt!" Jimmy yelled at her. "Don't you like dark meat?" he asked.

Susan dropped to her knees. Then she leaned forward and took Jimmy's cock between her lips. She moved too slowly for Jimmy. He rammed his prick into her mouth as far as it would go. Susan gagged and tried to spit his meat out, but Jimmy grabbed the back of her head and held her mouth in position, his cock still reaching into her throat as deeply as before.

Susan had no choice but to relax and do the best she could. Her jaw muscles had clenched tightly as she sought to reject the prick that had invaded her mouth so roughly, but they unclenched and Jimmy's cock slid more easily between her lips and even more deeply into her throat.

Susan had seen the movie where the star gobbles up cock after huge cock. She knew that it was possible to accept an enormous tool in one's mouth and throat if one relaxes. Only that knowledge, I'm sure, saved her from panic, that and the implication in Jimmy's tone of voice that he would beat her if she disobeyed and tried to spit out the big cock that was slamming into her throat.

Jimmy began to rock back and forth, his cock sliding in and out of her mouth. Jimmy knew how to use threats to compel obedience. He had forced Susan to obey him, terrified her into doing exactly what he asked, yet he had never raised a fist to her, had not done more than hint with the vague menace in his voice that he must be obeyed.