Chapter 3: A True Cum Slut Is Born
I called Cal at around 7:00 the following morning.
Brian hadn't come home until well after midnight, still fuming at what the painters had done to his meticulous work. We had gone to bed shortly after that. He had been snoring fitfully at 5:30 when I had gotten up to pee, and I vaguely recalled someone kissing my cheek and telling me they'd call later, but that had been coming to me through a sleepy fog. I had no idea what time he had left for work that morning, but I really didn't give a good goddamn as I impatiently waited for Cal to pick up his damned phone. He wasn't there now and Cal soon would be.
"Morning, Slut," Cal said after the twelfth aggravating ring.
"Cal!" I gasped. "You shouldn't answer your phone like that. I could have been a client calling with a computer problem."
"Twenty-first century, Faith," he chuckled. "We got caller ID and all kinds of state-of-the-art shit these days." There was the sound of Blues music playing in the background; sounded to me like Billie Holiday. "Your husband must work banker's hours."
"He left sometime early this morning, Cal," I said as a shiver raced through me just hearing his deep rich voice. I explained that Brian had gotten home very late and that I had waited up for him. "And, Cal," I cooed, "my white husband's side of the bed is soooo cold right now."
Cal snorted. "Like it ever got very hot. Phone guy been there yet?"
"Not yet, They told me yesterday it'd be early 'cause it's Saturday. Oh, and I ordered a separate line for the computer, too."
"Good thinking, Faith, won't tie up the house line when you're surfin' your kindda porn sites. Now, you best get that tight white ass outta bed and get dressed. I don't want him catching you in your robe, and maybe getting' a glimpse of what I'm gonna be usin' when I get there."
And, God, how I wanted to be used by him. I wanted it so bad right then. "And when will that be. Cal?"
"When I get there, Slut," Cal snapped, "Now get your ass outta bed and put some coffee on. Phone guys always appreciate a cup of coffee, might even get that jack thrown in free if you give him a cup. But nothin' else, not even a peek at your little white titties, you hear me, Slut?"
"I hear you, Cal. You are the only one who's going to see my white titties today." 'And he was going to suck them...' I thought to myself. '...and maul them...' And I was going to hold his big black cock tightly between them so he could fuck my white tits.
"You got that right, Slut."
The phone went dead in my ear and I got out of bed. My black lover was coming over, and he was going to do such wonderful slutty things to me and to my willing white body. I masturbated to those salacious thoughts as I showered, cumming several times.
So the Phone wouldn't get so much as an accidental peek at Cal's property, I dressed in my most matronly attire--what amounted to a button-up-the-front June Clever housedress and flats, my hair pulled back in a tight bun and no makeup. I'd fix myself up real nice after he left... for Cal. Then I went in the kitchen, poured what was left in the pot from Brian filling his thermos into a cup and stuck it in the microwave to warm, then put on a fresh pot. I made some toast and sipped my coffee and waited. And waited. And I waited. And I waited. And I...
Two and a half hours and a fresh pot of coffee later, Cal walked through the back door like it was his house, not Brian's and mine. "Phone guy already been and gone, Faith?"
"Not yet, Cal," I answered as my heart beat out a sinful tattoo inside my constricting chest. "I'm beginning to wonder if he's ever going to show."
Cal glanced at his watch. "Saturday, probably spent half the morning in the coffee shop." He looked at me. "Well...?" I was out of the kitchen chair and pressed up against him in less then one of my pounding heartbeats, my face tilted up to be kissed. Cal grabbed my hand and held it hard against the large bulge in his crotch. "You gonna be my slut, one of your hands best be right here whenever you greet your man. Got it, Slut?"
"Yes, Cal," I answered as I shamelessly rubbed and groped his huge cock through his pants. "Is that what I'm going to be, your slut?"
"No, you already are my slut." He leaned his head down like he was going to kiss me, but at the last second he swiped his wet tongue across my lips, my nose, and my startled eyes. "And a slut gets kissed when I want to kiss her, not the other way around."
"Yes, Cal." Good Lord, he had me trembling. He was treating me like a slut, like the slut I wanted to be for him, that I would be for him. And we both knew it.
He pushed me back. "Let your hair down." I undid the tight bun for him and shook it out. "Open that dress up. Show your man what you're wearing underneath." I hesitated and he snapped, "Now!" I obediently unbuttoned my dress half way down. "No bra. Good. But I see panties, Slut. My sluts never wear panties, less I tell them to. Get rid of them."
For some unexplainable reason I balked. "And what if I don't?"
So fast his hand was a dark blur in my vision, Cal's fingers were inside the waistband of my panties and he jerked me to him. "You asked, Slut," he spat in my face and yanked hard. I wasn't wearing flimsy panties, these were everyday cotton panties, meant for a little hard use, and they didn't give. He yanked again and the panties tore at the seams. Twice more Cal yanked on my panties, not quite as hard, like he wasn't serious about tearing them off me right then, like he teasing me. The second time I came in them. With a quick twisting wrench, what was left of my panties were at last torn free of my trembling body. "Like I said, no panties." He pushed them in my face and smeared my cum onto it. "Now, open up and suck the rest out, Slut."