(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the sixth chapter of this story, separated from Chapter 5 by way too many years. I apologize for that. Life happens I guess. But now it's time to finish this. It's best if you read the first five chapters.)
Susan was too spent to answer the phone. She could hardly move after so much fucking. Her tits heaved up and down with her exhausted breathing. Her nipples were still diamond hard and the smell of her cunt was strong and intoxicating.
It wasn't an unfamiliar sight. Susan had evolved into a hotwife over the past 15 years and over time the sexual escapades had developed into a wild lifestyle of motels and hotels. She hadn't worked, nor had she needed to. I made good money and numerous of her partners bought her gifts and had even given her money and taken her on extended vacations. But she didn't consider herself a whore, despite the multiple partners and various forms of remuneration. She was in it for the thrill and the orgasms.
It was the landline phone, that night after Randy and William had fucked her so well, so it could have been anyone, or most likely a wrong number at that hour.
I was naked and coated in Susan's juices and the cum from two massive Black cocks that had squelched out of her pussy to cover my groin and thighs. But I swung over her prone form and grabbed the handset from the nightstand.
"Hello," I gasped, still recovering from the last five minutes of franticly fucking her slack hole. She'd been fucked by two giant Black cocks before I got my turn in her and I'd just shot my load. Susan, cum dripping out of her pussy, looked up at me and mouthed 'who is it'.
I shrugged as I waited for a reply.
"It's me. Shit hit the fan with the Denson Project. Pack a bag for a week at least. Bring your laptop. I'll be there in 10," said my boss. "We got a flight in less than an hour."
He hung up.
I stared at the receiver in my hand trying to comprehend and process what he'd just said. I had a naked, well-fucked wife on the bed who was still playing with her tits and pussy as I explained I had to leave. I had two giant Black men with giant cocks downstairs drinking my liquor after fucking my wife. And I had to shower fuck juice off me and be dressed, packed, and downstairs in nine minutes.
I quickly explained to Susan and ran for the shower. I was drying off and dressing in two minutes and had a bag packed in two more minutes. Susan was downstairs pandering to William and Randy, naked and dripping and being fondled by giant hands. It was like my plight was just an interruption in her amazing orgasmic evening. She was trembling from the sexual fervor that was running through her body, hormones and oxytocin and adrenaline. Later she admitted she wasn't really comprehending what was happening.
"I knew you were going somewhere and I knew these two men were staying and I was going to be fucking again," she told me much later. "That was all that mattered. The Black cocks. I'd never experienced anything like it. I was just waiting for you to leave so I could get back upstairs and in bed and them get on me and in me."
William later told me when they'd taken a break from fucking her, she asked where I was, surprised I wasn't there begging for my turn.
"She seemed relieved you weren't there," he said. "That's when she told us you were a real cuck and got off more on being denied her pussy than being granted access to it. She said you loved the 'exquisite anguish' of being told no, or being told to jerk off while she and her partner of the moment watched."
It was true. I'd jerked off countless times just when I was at the height of my arousal after watching Susan fucking and orgasming for what seemed like ever. They'd watch me shoot my pent up load into the toilet, knowing the release would immediately deflate my arousal and turn that desire of the moment before into jealousy that I was not allowed in her pussy. It was like a little ritual, her marching me to the bathroom and making me stroke my cock while she told me how useless it was and how great the guy fucking her that night was.
"It doesn't seem like something a real man would do," William allowed. "I mean what is it? You really know your white cock and runny sperm is inferior?"
Even so, William subsequently allowed me to provide input and shape the direction Susan was going. And he sought me out often for my opinion. There were psychological issues I understood, and with Eugene, we were able to evaluate, tweak, adjust so she was moving forward in steadily rising sexual directions that took her from one extreme to the next. A little at a time so she was able to normalize things as she went. They were devious, and I guess I was too. The things we did.
That feeling of not being alive without a Black cock in her pussy is a mantra Susan's repeated a hundred times since. "When I'm not being fucked by a Black man I'm not a complete person," she'd say.
My cock? She called it an embarrassment.
"I'm sorry Jack. But what do you expect? You made me into this," she'd say. "At one time I was just an ordinary wife. An ordinary woman. You turned me into a Black cock whore freak. I'm a fuck freak. I can't stop. I do almost anything for Black men. And I love being like this, and hate it. But one thing's for sure, I'll never be anything else. I'm reparation for Black slavery. It's what I am, so I get fucked hard."
That was later. She said that much later when her path was set, she'd done unimaginable things, and there was no turning back, and a man from Ethiopia had spent an entire night fucking her. He didn't even speak English but they understood each other quite well. His African sperm was deep inside her and she elevated her hips to keep it inside her as long as she could.
She'd been reading about the new research on telegony and sperm being absorbed into her body through vaginal tissue.
"That was the Blackest man I've ever fucked," she said, her numerous orgasms having depleted her energy. "He likes me. He's really, really rich. His interpreter told me he wants me to visit Ethiopia."
The interpreter told me his employer wanted to buy Susan and take her to the Dark Continent for breeding purposes. Middle six figures. Of course she was worth more than that.
She had become the thing she would always have become eventually. Her evolution from innocence of a teen to the wanton whore that she is today was all predictable from early on. Thinking back, I see that nothing would have stopped it.
"Doug will be here any second," I said that night as the two big men grinned at the prospect of having my wife all to themselves and me not being able to do anything about it. And I was now finding my laptop and cords and putting them in a laptop bag. Cum still dripped out of my wife and she seemed oblivious to what was happening.
