Black Cock Worship: A Woman's Fall

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White wife is drawn into world of kinky submission.
14.5k words
4.61
246.5k
297

Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 04/27/2018
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Summary: White wife is drawn into world of kinky submission.

This is not really a sequel, but a slightly dove-tailed story of how, in the wake of her husband's fall, the wife also falls and ends up addicted to black cock. If you want to read the husband's fall read: Black Cock Worship: A Man's Fall.

Dedicated to the real Christine and Ken, as this is based largely on a true story.

Thanks to: Tex Beethoven, Robert, Wayne and goamz86 for editing.

Black Cock Worship: A Woman's Fall

As I glance at my husband, who is sitting on a folding chair, stroking his cock (the one I used to think was enough for me), I moan loudly as the black prisoner slams into my cunt, stretching me in ways I hadn't imagined possible.

Looking at him again, a prison guard at this moment, with a butt plug in his ass, I try to replay the crazy journey that ended with me completely shaved (just like my husband was at the order of our black Master), getting fucked by a black prisoner and pretending to be his wife (for the second time... the first time Ken wasn't allowed to watch).

I stare at him in disbelief at the man who is watching in awe, enjoying becoming a cuckold to a much longer, fatter, black cock, I realize it doesn't matter, our sex lives were forever changed the moment I agreed for the first time to come and meet our master.

Do you want to know how I ended up as just another one of Kareem's fake white wives who came to be his slut for an hour or three every week?

Well, if you do, here is the story....

.....

I was surprised when Ken said we were going to a barbecue with some of his co-workers. I mean good surprised. Since moving here we hadn't found too many friends our age, which was in our thirties. My job as a pharmaceutical rep didn't really create opportunities, and Ken wasn't known for being overly social. So I was kind of bored and missing our prior city, for alas this was where Ken was transferred and because I can do my job pretty much anywhere... I followed.

We arrived at the house and the door was opened by a ridiculously pretty woman, and Ken seemed stunned. As if unable to speak to someone who was utterly beautiful. I'm cute in the girl-next-door sort of way, but this woman was cover-of-a-magazine hot.

I mean if I were a lesbian I'd be in love.

The woman, in a sundress and nylons, which seemed strange for a hot summer day (I wore nylons for work when I was meeting clients as I had learned that men like them... and I had also learned that selling pharmaceuticals often meant selling yourself... not in a hooker sort of way, but as part of a package), greeted us with a wide smile that only made her prettier, "Hi, I'm Janna, please come in."

When Ken remained speechless, I did what I did when he couldn't remember the name of someone he was talking to: I extended my hand and offered, "Hey, I'm Christine and this is Ken."

"Hi," Janna welcomed us, as we walked in. "I'm happy you could finally make it. My husband Dele has told me lots about you, Ken."

"He has?" My husband asked, as if this was a ludicrous thing for her to say.

"Excuse my husband," I said, giving him a stop-drooling-over-your-co-worker's-hot-wife look.

"Sorry," he apologized, really looking more confused than dazed by her beauty. He added, trying to explain himself, "I just seem to recognize you from somewhere."

"I'm on television on occasion," she replied.

"Oh, where?" I asked, she indeed now looking vaguely familiar.

Janna looked at my husband and then back to me as she answered, "I'm a district attorney."

"Aaaaaaah, very impressive," I said, thinking she really was the complete package.

"It's a job," she shrugged, not at all acting superior like most gorgeous women acted, not to mention being a lawyer on top of that. Beautiful and smart was a great mixture to have.

"More exciting than mine," I said.

"What do you do?" Janna asked, as I noticed my husband checking out her nylon-clad legs.

"I sell drugs," I answered, my go-to joke.

"You're my new best friend," Janna smiled, taking my hand. She then mentioned to my husband, "Dele is out back."

"Cool," he said, looking down at her legs one more time before heading in the direction Janna pointed.

I apologized once my husband was out of ear shot. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" She asked.

"My husband was drooling over your legs," I said.

"Oh, I didn't notice," she said, likely so used to it she'd become oblivious of the attention from male perverts.

I laughed, "I sure did."

"It's the nylons," she said.

"I guess," I said, knowing it was the fact she was ridiculously hot, but he did indeed like nylons.

She led me into the kitchen where two other women were drinking wine. I was introduced to Lauren and Susan, both wives of guards as well, and I noticed they were both in nylons too.

I joked, "Is this a nylon club?"

Lauren said, her tone odd, "It definitely is."

"And it's an ever-growing club," Susan added.

"I thought nylons were long out of style," I said, noticing I was one of the very few women wearing them, with even many of the professional business women I met going bare-legged.

"We're bringing them back," Susan said. She was a gorgeous redhead wearing a yellow sundress that showcased her hair, green eyes and body... somehow sexy yet casual. She was super friendly, although she swore like a sailor. I was surprised when I also learned Susan was a kindergarten teacher, which in my mind would be the hardest job in the world. I mean just thinking of a classroom of five-year-olds running around made me shudder. What was fascinating to me was how much she didn't look like a teacher, which, in retrospect, is rather judgemental.

"So I see," I laughed, all three of them in mocha-coloured nylons.

"Our man loves us in them," Janna said. I thought the fact she said 'man' as if they were all sharing the same one was weird, but I assumed she had just misspoken. Oh, how wrong I was!

"I bet," I said, knowing Ken loves me wearing them.

"It's all about the brand," Lauren added, a chubby woman with the biggest breasts I'd ever seen... I couldn't fathom walking around all day carrying those things along. I mean I have pretty big 36DD breasts that seemed heavy some days, but hers were gravity wells!

"Yep, you pay for quality," Susan agreed.

"I wear Secret pantyhose usually," I said.

"Pantyhose?" Janna objected, her expression giving away she was grossed out by the idea. "Those are indeed out."

"What?" I asked.

"These are in," she said, lifting up her dress to show me the top of her thigh high lace tops.

I laughed, a little taken back by her brazenness, especially since I hadn't known her for even ten minutes, "Oh, I have a pair of those too for special occasions."

"I wear these every day under my business attire," Janna said,

"My students and colleagues would be surprised to know I wear thigh highs under my boring conservative teacher attire every day too," Susan added.

"I never even thought of wearing thigh highs to work," I said, which was true.

"They make me feel sexy," Lauren added, the shy one of the group, it seemed.

"I also love when men check out my legs," Susan added.

"And women too," Janna added, playfully. "It is 2018 after all."

"Yeah, yeah, you're bisexual, we know," Susan said, as I tried not to be shocked by all I was hearing.

"You'd love it," Janna teased.

"Only sausage for me," Susan said, looking at me and shaking her head.

"Everyone should try sushi at least once," Janna said, also looking directly at me, but with a much different look... as if secretly asking 'what do you think?'.

After an awkward few seconds as all three looked at me, gaging my reaction, I asked, "What brand do you girls buy?"

"Either Hanes or Berkshire," Lauren answered.

Susan listed, "Hue, Oroblu, and Donna Karan."

"I've never heard of any of them," I said, as I also noticed for the first time that none of these women was wearing a bra... unless they were wearing strapless ones.

As I pondered this, Janna grabbed my hand and led me out of the kitchen and to her bedroom as she said, "Time to change your life."

"Where are we going?" I asked, this whole conversation bizarre.

She let go of my hand, went to her dresser and tossed me a package. "Put these on."

"Really?" I asked, surprised both that she was giving me nylons to wear and that they were Wolfords, which I knew were a really expensive European brand.

"Yeah, put these on and not only will the guys be checking you out, but they really make you feel sexy," she explained, as if we were best friends already and not strangers who'd met fifteen minutes ago.

"You sure?" I asked, before clarifying, "These are really expensive."

She opened her top drawer and showed me a good dozen packages, "I order in bulk."

I laughed, "So I see."

So I opened the package and put them on, learning they weren't pantyhose but thigh high stockings.

Once they were on, I moved my hands up and down my legs, I said, "Wow! These are the sheerest, softest nylons I've ever worn."

"Ken will love them," she said.

"Definitely," I agreed, thinking he would be in heaven.

"Want to really rattle him?" she asked.

I shrugged, "Sure."

"Take off your bra," she suggested.

"What? Why?" I asked, this not what I was expecting.

"Because it's fun to play with our men's minds," she said, before she added, "and the other ladies are all sans bras."

Although I thought it was pretty weird, I shrugged, "Well, I'd hate to be the lone holdout."

So I removed my bra and put it in my purse.

We went back to the kitchen and Susan complimented, noticing right away, "Those really accentuate your legs."

"Hey, don't go all lez with her if you won't with me," Janna joked.

"You're insufferable," Susan said, shaking her head.

"Yes, I can be," she said, giving me a wink.

I had never been with a woman, never even seriously considered it, but these two beautiful women's strange flirtations had the idea percolating in my head. I mean I wasn't suddenly a lesbian, or even seriously thinking about it... but the slightest bit of curiosity was now lingering in the back of my mind.

The next half hour we made salads, we chatted about kids, about work, about generic life stuff as I got to know them and they got to know me.

When the men came in, I wasn't surprised to see my husband first noticed Lauren's breasts. Dele introduced my husband to the other wives while my husband's face went beet red again as he stared first at Lauren's breasts (which I didn't blame him for as they were literally impossible to miss) and then at the complete beauty of Susan.

Dele played host and even joked, as he introduced Susan, "And this lovely lady is Susan, and she is the boss of her house."

"Hey, that's only 95 percent true," Carl protested.

"98 percent," Susan corrected, although I imagined it was likely 99 percent.

My husband, trying at least to be a good husband, walked over to me and kissed me.

He looked at me perplexed, as he noticed I was wearing nylons now. He asked, after a quick kiss, "Um, you brought nylons with you?"

"You like?" I asked, lifting my knee up to let him touch the sheer silk.

He put his hand on my knee and he said, impressed, "WOW, they're super soft and sheer."

"We ended up talking about hosiery and how some brands are better than others. One thing led to another and Janna insisted I try these on," I explained, realizing just how weird it was that I was now wearing nylons.

"Well, I approve," he said, sliding his hand under my skirt.

I slapped it away and teased in a sultry voice, "Be a good boy and you'll get to feel these on Peter."

"I'm all in," he said, 'Peter' being our nickname for his cock.

"You certainly will be," I promised, as I gave his cock a quick squeeze, not at all surprised to feel it was completely hard.

We had dinner as a group, chatted about everything, and I drank quite a bit... not getting drunk, but a little more than tipsy... which always makes me extra frisky.

The women did the dishes while the men went to watch baseball... some things never change.

We chatted some more and I felt like I'd known these three forever. We talked movies: agreeing we would all fuck Hugh Jackman in a heartbeat; we talked music and learned all of us loved the eighties and all of us had been to a New Kids on the Block concert.

Susan and Lauren both left before I did, and Janna returned the conversation to sex.

"How often do you and Ken fuck?"

"That's a pretty personal question," I said, surprised by her bluntness.

"Dele and I fuck almost every day in some form or another," she said.

"There are different forms?" I asked, a little confused by her words and yet intrigued. I couldn't explain it, but everything about Janna intrigued me.

"Definitely," she said with a nod.

"How so?" I asked.

"Can I be completely honest with you?" she asked.

"You haven't been up until now?" I joked.

"Touché," she laughed. "I'm not one for beating around the bush."

I joked, somehow feeling comfortable saying something sexually charged, "Yes, I hear you'd rather eat it."

She roared with laughter. "I knew I liked you." She then said, "Although I prefer a great plain if you know what I mean."

I did. I said, for some reason, "I trim."

"You've never had a Brazilian?" she asked, her face one of shock.

"No, I don't like pain," I said, the idea of someone down there yanking out follicles not at all appealing to me.

She grabbed her phone and said, "Well, we can't have that."

"Have what?" I asked, as she called someone.

She actually shushed me... I despised being shushed (my father doing that to me and my mother all the time when I was a kid) as she spoke on the phone. "June, I need an emergency Brazilian."

My eyes went wide. Was she booking me a Brazilian?

"No, not for me," she laughed. "I just saw you three days ago. It's for a friend."

Yep, she was. I was both bewildered by her take control attitude and also impressed.

She looked at me after a minute and asked, "Can you do seven tomorrow night?"

"Um, yeah," I answered. After I did, I wondered why I'd agreed so quickly.

"Yes, book it," Janna said into the phone. She then added, "Her name is Christine." After another moment she finished, "You're a sweetheart."

She put her phone down and said, "Done."

"Did you just book me a Brazilian?" I asked, even though it was pretty obvious she'd done just that.

"Yep," she nodded. "That's what friends are for."

I laughed, "I don't recall seeing that in the friendship manual."

"You need to read between the legs," she responded wickedly.

"Okay," I said, not responding to the sexual implication. "But to be honest, I'm not sure I want one."

"It's not about want, it's about need," she said, finishing her wine.

"Okay, I'm not sure I need one," I corrected.

"Trust me, you do," she said. "You'll feel like a new woman."

"If you say so," I said, sensing that as a lawyer she didn't lose arguments too often.

She got some more wine for both of us and then she shocked me once more. She asked me, "Have you ever swung?"

"On a swing?" I joked, even though I was pretty sure I knew what she meant.

"Well, some parties do indeed have a swing," she smiled.

"No," I answered.

"That's not why we invited you here today, although I definitely wouldn't be against it," she said. "You and Ken are a very attractive couple."

"Um, thanks," I said, the conversation suddenly awkward... yet also interesting.

"Sorry, if I'm being forward," she said. "It's just...." she began and paused.

"It's just what?" I asked.

"Never mind," she said.

"What?" I asked again, wanting to know.

She said, "Sorry, I've said too much."

"Janna, tell me," I demanded.

"It's just that... you two look like you need a spark," she said.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, our sex life pretty good overall.

"Just a hunch," she said.

She then asked another blunt question, "How many men have you slept with?"

I paused. I really didn't need to tell her this, but I did. Trying to keep the conversation light, I answered, "More than one, fewer than three."

"Hundred?" she asked.

I laughed, before admitting, "No, just two."

"Oh my," she said, as if this was unbelievable and kind of sad.

"What?" I asked, never feeling like I'd missed anything by fucking just two guys... both being long term relationships.

"How many girls?" she asked.

"Two less than that," I answered.

"You're lucky to have met me," she said, as if she was my personal, but much hotter, Dr. Ruth.

"Why is that?" I asked.

"Because you need to explore," she said, as she leaned over and kissed me.

I was stunned.

This married, beautiful woman was kissing me.

While our husbands were downstairs, very likely not kissing.

Obviously I should have pushed her away.

Yet, maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the conversation. Or maybe it was her incredibly soft lips. So I didn't push her away, I kissed her back.

And for a couple of minutes I willingly kissed another woman.

It felt so natural, so sensual, and completely different from kissing a man.

When she broke the kiss she said, "You're a very beautiful woman, Christine."

"Thank you," I replied, a chill going up my spine as I sat there dazed and confused.

"I hope I'm not being too forward," she said.

"Oh, that was pretty forward," I smiled.

"Oh, trust me, this is me going slow," she said.

"Oh my," I said, so many mixed emotions inside me.

Her bluntness continued as she asked, "Any chance your other cock was black?"

"No," I said, although I'd be lying if I hadn't on occasion wondered what it would be like to fuck a black man... I mean all women at some point wonder about the great black myth.

"Ever fantasize about it?" She asked.

"I plead the fifth," I joked, answering the question without actually answering the question.

She laughed, "You don't know what you're missing."

Her tone and smile had me asking. "You're not fucking one right now, are you?"

"Sadly, no," she sighed.

I was about to speak when she added, "but I will be tomorrow."

"What?" I asked.

"I have a convict I see every week," she said.

"You fuck a convict?" I asked, thinking that was pretty morally wrong.

"More often than not he just fucks my face," she bluntly said.

"Oh my God!" I gasped.

"I scream that phrase a lot when he does fuck me," she continued, clearly enjoying my shocked reactions.

"What about Dele?" I asked.

"Sometimes he watches," she answered rather matter-of-factly, as if that wasn't absolutely strange.

"Really?" I asked, every answer she gave me creating more questions, not less.

"Remember we're swingers," she reminded me.

"I just assumed those were wild orgies," I said, wondering if I could ever do such a thing. Would I even want to? The wetness in my panties at the moment said perhaps I did.

"We've been to a few of those," she nodded. "But the truth is that Dele is my cuckold."

"What's that?" I asked, a word I'd never heard before.

"You know how you have Ken whipped?"

I smiled, "For the most part."

"Except in the bedroom, right?"

"Yeah, but why do you assume that?" I asked.

"You're a natural submissive," she said.

"How so?" I asked, although in the bedroom it was mostly true.

"You like to please," she said. "You actually need to please."

"How do you know that?"

"I read people," she answered. "Plus, the fact you didn't break away from our kiss confirmed my observations."

"I was surprised," I defended my action.

"At first you were," she agreed, "but then you kissed back."

"It felt so soft," I explained.