WARNING: The following story contains graphic descrip- tions of an interracial sexual nature. It is intended for mature persons only. Any persons not old enough to legally receive adult materials or who are offended by them should read no farther. Further distribution of this story--and all others of this nature by this author--is permissible only to appropriate persons and only if the contents and author credit are unchanged.
1. Copyright (c) May 1998.
2. The persons and situations depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarities to actual persons or situations are completely unintentional and coincidental.
3. Reader comments and feedback are always encouraged; send to Pervitron@Hotmail.com
4. This story may be copied for free distribution, provided the author credit is retained.________________________________________________________
Story: Boss Man
Tammy and I were very happy in the first few months of our marriage. Hers was the love I had always looked for. Tammy was such a sweet young girl, a virgin of 20 when we married. She was flat out gorgeous, but you wouldn't know it to look at her in the street. She hid her shapely body and legs in loose, long cut dresses, and kept her thick black hair pinned back. She was a lady, a beautiful angel. She was a minister's daughter, raised in a deeply Christian household, and her strong religious convictions made her very conscious to not dress provocatively. I'd come to know over the few months what a spectacular body she had. I felt privileged to have seen it all, and to have been the first man to feel the inside of her lovely young pussy.
In contrast to her, I was much more adventurous sexually. Certainly no virgin, by the time I was her age I had had many women. Sex was the most important thing in my life. You might even consider me a sex addict; I spent many hours in strip clubs and adult bookstores, enjoying pornography and the pleasures of feeling up strippers. In fact, I continued to do this even after we were married, because while Tammy was the love of my life, there were feelings and urges that she didn't satisfy. There was no way I could tell her about this, she wouldn't understand, so it remained a secret I kept from her.
Marriage so far had been a compromise. I brought her along slowly; She was very resistant to do anything she considered "kinky", and to her that included blowjobs and any kind of ass play. I was crazy enough about her to hold myself back. It was tough for me. Birth con- trol was out of the question because of her religion, so early in our marriage, before we wanted children, there were long periods when I didn't get anything at all. But as tough as it was, I did love her, and I even treated it like a tease. Slowly, over the months, she was loosening up, and with each new boundary we crossed I felt encouraged. Just small things, things like kiss- ing my cock or letting me talk dirty to her while we "made love" really got me off, they felt to me like conquests, because she was so resistant. And oh, so beautiful. I longed for the future, because I knew that someday I'd have her doing anything I wanted. Someday I'd have her kneeling before me, and looking up at me, waiting for me to blow my load all over her pretty face.
But, you know, woman of a certain age start thinking of babies, and Tammy was that age. So after we were married almost a year she decided we'd try for one. And it was like a switch was thrown in her head - all of a sudden she craved sex. She had no problem doing what I wanted to get started - lots of nights I'd come home to find her in the slutwear she refused to wear for me when we were first married. There was a part of me that felt resentful, used, because she wasn't doing these things for me, just to use my urges to get what she wanted: a baby. So there she'd be when I got home from work, all dolled up like a groupie, with a bikini top, skimpy cotton dress high enough to show the tops of her thigh-highs, and the "fuck me" pumps I loved so much. Yeah, she had the look, she knew what I liked and how to tease, but she wouldn't really act the part. I wanted to get head; I wanted her eyes looking up at me from down there. That was all I thought about, but she just wouldn't do it. It was the same excuse she used all along: "In the eyes of God it was unnatural". Still the "nice girl" inside. But I knew the real reason - She wasn't about to waste any of my precious baby seed that way. So straight sex was all she'd allow. And from my end, straight sex 10 or so times a week is more work than I bargained for. I wasn't 18 anymore. A few times we'd get started, she'd be under me, egging me on, tickling my ass with her long nails, and all of a sudden something would happen to me. I'd lose it, just go soft. I'd be ashamed, she'd say "That's OK."
Months went on, there was no sign of a baby, and I knew she was unhappy.
As if that wasn't enough, money started becoming a problem - I just didn't make enough. I was going to school at night, but was stuck in a low paying day job until I finished school. Things were real tight. We lived in a small apartment, and never had enough money for simple pleasures like vacations. We couldn't even afford to go out to dinner when her friends invited us. It seemed like all our friends had much more than we did. Some of her girlfriends even had vacation homes.
So she was unhappy enough about the money to go out to work. She found a job as an office girl. Every day she rode the subway to her job downtown. I felt terrible seeing her go to work. She never complained openly, she really was a sweet girl, but there were times, especially when she was talking with her better off friends that I saw a hint of unhappiness, real jealousy. The man in me knew this wasn't right. If we could just hold on for a few years, things would be better. I'd make more money after I finished school. She could quit, I'd have more time, more energy, and enough money to provide for her. Then maybe those baby juices would kick in again. I was determined to stick it out. I still loved her.
She had been working a few months when she started acting out about it. She'd be silent, almost sullen when she came home, saying little about what went on. She worked for some company downtown - all I knew was its name, Invigra Inc., and that she spent her day doing some kind of clerical work. I could sense a change in her. She wasn't after me for sex anymore. She started being angry all the time. She'd come home from work and not even talk to me, and I felt miser- able. I felt like a failure.
For a week or so I consoled myself by spending more time in the strip clubs after work. The girls there weren't so demanding, just a quick buck and they shook their ass for me. But after having the promise of her, the hope that she would turn into some dark angel in bed, these diversions didn't satisfy anymore.
So one day I confronted her. "What's with you? Ever since you started this job you've changed. I told you it would only be till I finished school, but you're acting like you're mad about it!"
She just ran into the bedroom, tears in her eyes and closed the door. "Fuck her!" I thought. I got my coat on and went out, out to the local titty bar. I hadn't cheated on Tammy at all since we'd been married, unless you count feeling up strippers and sluts in these clubs. My hands worked overtime that night, and a lot of the money that Tammy earned wound up laced through g-strings.
She was sitting up in bed when I got home. She said she was sorry, but her unhappiness these past few weeks had nothing to do with me. She wasn't mad about work- ing; she just hated the place she was in. What she told me next changed my mood completely.
"There's a boss there, and he's always hitting on me. I have to go into his office, and he's always putting his hands on me, touching my bottom." She was starting to sob as she said this, a tear falling in a slow roll down her beautiful cheek. "He says things to me, dirty things." My heart started beating faster. Someone was going to get his ass kicked.
"What's his name?"
"Brock." What kind of name was that, I thought?
"We'll Tammy, tomorrow I'm going to work with you. And I can guarantee you this Brock asshole isn't ever going to bother you again." I wanted her to know I'd take care of this for her, I wanted her to feel safe, protected. I didn't tell her that I hadn't been in a fight since grammar school. This guy Brock was probably some old office guy, grown pudgy and soft around the middle. I told her I'd make this guy sorry he ever messed with her. I showed her my fist, and said, "This guy will be one sorry motherfucker!"
She just stared wide-eyed at me.
When we got into the elevator the next morning, she pressed floor 45. I noticed that Invigra had floors 39-45 in the building, and I pondered the meaning of her working on the top floor. I guessed that this Brock was some bigwig in the company. I figured the guy was some old business fart, I'd make short work of him.
The offices on the 45th floor seemed very prosperous indeed. Very plush and dignified, our footsteps were silent in the thick carpeting. The receptionist was an extraordinarily beautiful woman, a polished Nordic beauty, wearing a thin silk blouse. I could see a hint of protruding nipples, and I felt myself stir.
Tammy asked for Brock, and we were asked to wait for a few minutes. While we were waiting on the couch, I amused myself by checking out the people in the office as they walked through the corridor. Almost everyone was female, and they were all knockouts, young woman in their early 20's, impeccably dressed and attractively made up. Even their voices were sexy. I wondered if Invigra was some sort of modeling agency. I was about to ask Tammy when a tall, shapely oriental woman told us the Mr. Brock would see us now.
As we walked through the hall to his office, I got myself ready. I was going to surprise the prick, get right in his face. Just one word from him and I'd throw his sorry ass right through the fuckin window.
The Asian girl opened the door, and for a moment, I just took in the surroundings. Mr. Brock's office was the size of our apartment. It was a corner office with two floor-to-ceiling, windows that looked out on the harbor. There was a sitting area with a couch and two easy chairs on the right as you walked in, a rich mahogany bar on the left, and a long expanse of thick red carpeting before Brock's desk.
He was standing there, and at the first sight of him all my plans of kicking his sorry ass through the window evaporated. I'd need to try something different. Brock was a huge black man, at least 6'7", and he pro- bably weighed about 250 pounds. He was in his late twenties, there was an athletic grace to his movements as he rose from behind his big desk and sauntered over to us. No way I'd last two seconds in a fight with him. He shook my hand: "Tammy's told me all about you." He looked down at me, and gave enough of a squeeze in his grip to make me grimace. Somehow he knew what I was there for.
I couldn't talk, couldn't get the words out of my throat. He looked at me, with the light of a smirk in his eyes. "What's on your mind?" he said with a bit of a challenge. There was something disorientating about him. In addition to his physical bulk, there was an air of settled power and prosperity about him. His was dressed in a custom tailored pinstripe suit, a silk tie that probably itself cost my weeks wages. He had lots of expensive jewelry: A solid gold watch, several large rings, and his right ear had a 3 or 4 carat diamond stud. He exuded power and confidence.
Guessing how he made it here, I had an image of him beating some drug dealer to death in a dark alley, winning his first piece of turf on his climb to the top. But there was another image that fit also, because I had to admit the man had an air of intel- ligence, a winning combination of ballsy wit and a cat-like alertness. He could have made it here with his brains too, dealing on the trading floor of an exchange.
I had to say something. Both he and Tammy were staring at me. I started to look at Tammy, but I couldn't meet those beautiful green eyes that stared back at me. I knew she remembered how big and tough I'd sounded last night, how I ran my mouth about what I would do to Brock. I realized she looked at me the same way last night and I realized she hadn't give me even a hint of what Brock was like. I didn't like the feeling that gave me; She knew what I was getting myself into, and she let it happen.
"Well, Tammy, guess I'll just get back to work while your MAN here gets himself together." He gave Tammy a quick wink he turned and started back to his desk. As he sat down he laughed: "Guess a cat's got his tongue!" He leaned back in his leather chair and studied me. Sizing me up with a cool hard stare. I couldn't hold his gaze, I had to look past him at the boats in the harbor behind him. The ball was in my court, and I felt helpless.
He pressed a button and said, "Bring in some refreshments for my guests, please." Still leaning back, the silence held the charge in the air.
"Tammy tells me you kids are trying to have a child." He was starting, he knew he had an opening and would work on the wound. "Kids," even though he was a year or so younger than us. I had the sick sense of where he was going.
"But it's been months now, and I don't see any change in her lovely figure."
"But then again, it might take .... many years..." He was grinning from ear to ear, flashing his big white teeth, "...Considering what you have to work with!"
He eased back in his chair, letting fly with a big, booming laugh.
Finally, I forced some words out, "y-y-y-y-you know, y-y-y-you c-c-c-an't harass w-w-women that work for you!" I was gulping for air as I fought to get the words out.
"Lighten up, man." He was so cool, calm, "You know, I can do whatever I want. The law says I can't 'harass', well, let me tell you, the law applies only to chumps like you." There was a flash in his eyes. "Fact is, I can pick up this phone and be talking to the Governor in about two minutes. Think you gonna tell me about the law?"
He started back in: "What was that word, 'harass'. Well that means unwelcome, but let me tell you chump, your woman has needs, she be givin off all kinds of signals, hints like, you know what I mean?" He fell into an insolent, easy jive, I could feel the blood rise in my cheeks as I watched his smile start again - "But no you wouldn't know, sorry-ass wuss like you get no signals no time, ha, ha, ha!"
The door opened, and one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen walked in. She walked like she was on a runway, with a smooth rocking motion to show the form of her legs and the lift of her high heels. She was carrying a tray of drinks, and when she turned to set them on the low credenza, she bent low, and I saw even more of her smooth, sexy legs. My eyes were locked on her, there was a certain charge in the air, and even though I was sick with fear I felt desire stir, knowing that the feel of her against my body would comfort me. But she was his, I knew it. I watched her leave the same way she'd come in. When I looked back at Brock, he was staring at me. I knew he never even glanced at her the whole time, even though the show was for him. He didn't need to, because his dick probably knew every sweet fold and crevice of her body. He was staring hard at me. A line had been crossed.
"Its a great country ain't it?" He was toying with me now, enjoying the upper hand, the way a cat plays with a cornered mouse. "Guy can really make somethin of his- self here, all you need is a pair of big balls, but then again, guess you wouldn't know bout that!"
He rose and walked over to us, and stood over me. I was sitting low in the sofa, he seemed like a giant glowering down at me. "C'mon, get up. What you waitin for, boy. Your lady, here, she be thinkin you don't care about her. C'mon, make me stop hittin on her!"
Tammy was watching me, watching with the same stare she had been wearing ever since we entered the office. All last night she had been quiet, letting me build myself up, talk big, even though she knew what I was getting myself into. A word from her would have made me hesitate, but no, she let me go on, let me talk myself into it. And then I knew what that look was. She was laying low, waiting, ready for the winner.
"Lily-ass punk, I'm gonna kick you outta my office." He reached down with his big hands and pulled me up off the couch by the collar. My heart was beating like a rabbit, I was fighting for breath. My feet were lifted off the floor, and he must have done this with one hand, because the other hand was drawn back in a fist. I could see the flash of his gold rings on thick wide knuckles. I couldn't look away because the rings had sharp points, jagged razor-like edges, made to tear up the face of a victim. I felt like I would throw up, and I began to feel dizzy with the stress and fear.
Tammy went up to him, put her hands on his big shoulders, and said, "Please don't hurt him." That's what I was reduced to. He threw me down on the couch like a sack of shit. My pants were wet. Tammy looked at the wet spot on my pants and I saw a momentary look of disgust, of revulsion, on her face. With a look like, that, I knew she was gone. Brick looked at Tammy, pointed down at me and said, "Thinks he's gonna tell me what I can't do."
He walked over to her, and said softly, "Why you wast- ing your time with this loser?" She had no answer. "You need a man to take care of you, protect you, not the other way around." He walked slowly, easily over to his desk, completely unconcerned that he was turning his back on me. He opened a desk drawer, and took out a long dark box, and then came up to her and said, "Here. This is for you." As she opened it, he was standing behind her, caressing her shoulders. I could see that his big hands had long, sensual fingers. She opened the box, and her mouth opened in a small "Oh," as she saw his gift. I could see the jewels in the necklace and a look of joy in her bright eyes. He drew it from her hand, and then, slowly, moved behind her, and with smooth, languorous, almost reverent movements draw it tight around her neck. "A fine lady needs to wear fine jewels."
It didn't matter that he probably had a drawer full of these things, ready to charm whatever piece of ass walked into his office. What mattered was that it probably cost two years of my pay, and she never had anything so nice before, something to show her friends, a symbol of a mans devotion. As he closed it around her, he kissed her on the neck. She wasn't drawing away, just looking off into some distant, inner land- scape. He kept planting small kisses all along the side of her neck. When he put his lips into her ear, and started whispering to her, she rested her head back against his shoulder.
She broke into a bright smile as she heard his whispers. One of her hands was absently feeling the necklace on her neck, and she reached back with the other hand and caressed the side of his face. The bitch!
It was like I wasn't there anymore. He was moving on her like an expert, kissing her neck, and as he moved from her neck up her ear, her head tilted bach, showing her pleasure. Then all of a sudden he reached into her dress and started squeezing her breasts. Biting softly on her ears, whispering. I could make out a few phrases: "...make you feel real good...", "...deep in- side...", and, as he slid his hands down towards her crotch, "...feel that fine, soft pussy..." When his hands got there, she closed her eyes, and bit her lower lip. "...want a real man to give you a baby..?" her chest heaved.
She turned toward him and put both arms over his big shoulders. She stood high on her toes. She was whis- pering back to him now, and while she nuzzled her face against his cheek he was pawing her ass. She drew back and started to undo his tie. She turned and looked me straight in the eye. So bold, so hot she was. The smirk was gone, here was a woman who had found what she needed. For months I was trying to get her like this, trying to break through her reserve, and even though her creamy pussy didn't want me; the sight of her like this got me hot. His silk tie made a whistling sound as she pulled it off. When she undid all the buttons of his shirt, and spread it open to expose his torso, I could see the excitement on her beautiful face. His body was spectacular, all lean, tight muscle, chiseled like polished black granite.
He took her hand and pushed it down in his pants, and I could see the interest on her face as she felt his big tool. I could see her hand moving inside his pants. I was stunned now, in shock from a sort of sensory overload. A part of me was trying to estimate how big his prick was, by inspecting the range of motion of her hands, and a part of me wanted to commit murder. She reached her other hand down, and opened his belt, and then got down on her knees to pull his pants down.
The man had reason to be proud. It wasn't even fully erect yet, but it was already much larger than any other dick I've seen. And very wide. My wife was kneeling now, just a foot or so from it, and I involun- tarily wondered how much of it she could take.
"Suck my cock, baby!", and slowly, slowly she brought her lips closer to it. When she finally touched it, and started to draw the length of it inside her mouth, I felt an electric surge move through my body. The push of that big, black Johnson into her mouth was hot stuff to watch. My cock surged against my wet pants, as I saw her lips stretching, watching her resist the impulse to gag as she took as much as she could in her throat.
She never did that for me. For months I was bringing her along slowly, respectfully, being careful not to sully her with my carnal needs. I knew now that I was a fool - what she really wanted was a man to take her without asking. She was going down eagerly, working like a coke whore on the biggest, meanest guy I had ever seen. He was getting the treatment, the silky lip, soft tongue, careful slow suck that is the wet dream of every man. Every few minutes she would slide him out of her mouth, and then lower her face so she could tickle first one ball, then the other, with her long, wet tongue. When she would do this I would hear him murmur, "You are one fine bitch." Then she would slide him back into her mouth, and then stare directly at me. My cock was burning, and my mind was spinning.
Once he draw her up, and then whispered something in her ear. I saw her nod, and he walked back over to me. "Get yo ass up off my couch!" I got up sheepishly; My beautiful wife took her skirt and panties off and lay back on the couch, lifting her legs high and wide, ex- posing her wonderful cunt to us. But no, it wasn't to us, it was to him. He undressed, slowly, savoring his conquest, enjoying the opportunity for some more in- sults. "Here, hold these," handing me his pants and shirt.
I just stood there, unable to move, but not really wanting to anymore either. I wanted to watch it happen, I wanted to see him do Tammy. My excitement showed, Brock noticed my hard cock inside my wet pants. "Tammy, get a load of that little thing there, all ready for action!" They both laughed, and as I stood there, holding his clothes, as he climbed on top of her.
I could see her face beneath his hard back and shoulders. She was all red, her lips were flushed with passion, and she stared up at him as she reached for his big thick cock and positioned it at her moist gate. He pushed the tip in, and he said, "C'mon girl, put your legs up over my shoulders."
From my position I could see his ball sacs and the long fat prick pushing down into her.
The air was electric. He started pushing in, and her face jumped, I could almost feel the sharp pain, "No, Brock, you're hurting me!!!"
"Guess you ain't used to real meat, bitch!. Man, you tight like a teenybopper, ain't really been done yet!"
He wasn't stopping, he continued to drive in, slowly, even though she was crying out in pain. It seemed like he was being deliberately slow, enjoying the feel of breaking her wide open. It seemed like an eternity, watching the length of his Johnson plunge into her, spreading her out underneath him, settling his body full on her wide open ass.
Finally, he was all the way in, and he stopped a moment and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead. "There now, it only hurt cause you ain't used to me, but you be OK, you're mine now."
She just looked over at me, glassy eyed. He held her tight by her shoulders, she was pinned under him as he started pumping. She was helpless, but it really didn't matter, because I could see she was over the edge, that sweet spot where the pain turns into sur- render.
"Oh, Brock!" Now she was digging it, enjoying the stab of his love tool deep down inside. Her mouth was pres- sed against his hard shoulder, she was giving him lit- tle love bites. "Oh, God, that feels good! Fuck, that big cock feels sooo good!!"
"Man, Tammy, you be one sweet cunt! So nice and tight!"
Oh, I loved the sight of her, watching the way she gasped with every thrust, watching her being carried to the edge, hissing her pleasure like a wild animal. She was looking up at him, and I could see her cheeks were wet. They were tears of pleasure.
Brock stopped for a moment, Just when she was ready, just at that moment when he knew she was right there, almost ready to explode inside, he stopped thrusting and looked at her. He knew just what to do, how to use this moment, this ache he aroused in her.
He looked into her crying eyes, and brought his face down within an inch of her, and gave her the sweetest, gentle little kiss on her lips, and whispered, "You like this, baby?"
"Y-y-y-yes,", softly, like a prayer.
And he answered with a soft wet kiss. "You'll be my girl from now on?"
"Y-y-y-yes," loving what she heard.
"You be my bitch?"
"Y-y-yes, I do, I want that."
I thought I'd burst from passion, I felt like I was witness to some dark, sinful intimacy. I loved it too, feeling a vicarious pleasure at the treatment the man was getting from her, watching the smooth way he played her. I started to rub myself as I listened, forgetting the humiliation, caught up in the sparks that flew be- tween them.
"I like my bitches be always there, case my dick get hard, need some sweet lovin, some o dat there sugar you got inside."
"Oh, Jesus, I want to be the one you come to, oh, Christ, Brock, I love feeling your big dick inside me!" He was hearing what he wanted, and he started moving again, slowly pulling and pushing that big thing inside her.
"Gonna shoot you full of my baby juice, your belly be full of me!"
"Ohhhhh, Brock, I want your baby, oh you mean stud, pump it deep inside me, I want your baby!!" She was coming, I saw a big smile of satisfaction on his face as she let loose. I came at the same time she did, loving the sight of the big man in action.
That was a long time ago. He still comes over to our house every so often. My job is to keep his son quiet, because Brock gets pissed off if his cries disturb their lovemaking, and all I have to do is feel my den- tures with my tongue to remind me of what he's like when he gets upset.
When he calls and says he's coming, I help Tammy get ready for him. I brush her hair, and help her put on the jewelry he's bought for her. I now give expert pedicures. I make sure dinner is almost ready when he arrives, the table is set, and the crystal is polished. When he arrives, I meet him at the door, wearing an apron.
When I bring them their drinks in the living room, she's already wrapped in his big arms. My abuse is now part of their foreplay, he loves to tease me and she loves to watch him do it. Its a long drawn out scene, he starts slowly, talking about how silly I look, and criticizing the way I keep "his" house. He'll ask Tammy if I've made any moves on her since he was there last. And even though I wouldn't dare, she always lies, she turns to him and whispers in his ear about some indiscretion I've committed. Whispers while she's looking right at me, and I see a little smug smile on her face. Brock will smile too, almost laugh, he knows its a lie, but its his cue to get physical.
He gets up and grabs me, holding me with one hand while he bitch-slaps me with the other. He'll slap me until I cry, Tammy laying there all happy inside, her juices flowing at the sight of her man in action.
All night long I sit with his son, hovering nearby in case he wakes. But sometimes, when he's in a deep sleep, I slip away, and walk towards "our" bedroom. I wait outside and listen carefully, and some sick in- stinct in me makes me stroke myself as I listen to them. I can hear her deep breathing, and I imagine the scene in my mind, the bulk of him on top of her, the shudder of pleasure on her face as the big man drives into her. She's not religious at all anymore, it seems all she wants is that big dick pushing into her, stretching the soft skin on her insides, filling her with his precious seed.
I love the mornings best of all. When I wheel their breakfast in, more often than not they're still at it. As I push the bedroom door open I can see her red nails on his big black ass, urging him deeper into her. Her hands urging him in, even through she screams like she's in pain. "Oh Christ, Brock no!" He loves that, loves to feel like his woman can't take him. I know their games, I've heard every shout and gasp of their lovemaking, and I'm rock hard as I listen and pour their coffee.
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