Post Coital Suggestion Ch 03

The story you are about to read includes very explicit reference to sex. If you are not old enough to read this story where you live, or if you object to frank language about sex, please read no further.

If, however, you enjoy sexual fantasies and a bit of humor along the way, please read on!

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This story really needs Chapter One to make any sense. If you don't read chapter one first, this one won't make a lot of sense, and all the humor will get lost. Please read chapter one.

But, just in case you're really stubborn, and refuse to read chapter one, here's a VERY quick summary. In that chapter, two escaped convicts, "Kris" and "T" came to hide in my house for nearly a week.

During that time, they fucked me repeatedly, and by the end of the week, I was believing whatever Kris said. He told me that, now that I was a "black cock slut," I would never again be able to say no to a black man. In addition, he told me that black men can smell a black cock slut any time they're around, and that they use "code" to tell them they want to fuck. The "code" is something like "Can I help you?" or "Need a hand with that?" (This, of course, is something he made up, but I believed it, I was so spent, so receptive after a week of earth shaking orgasms.) Kris taught me how to respond to these questions, and taught me that men who use the code expect immediate responses.

That's how I found myself in the situation you'll read about in this story.

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"Honey? Remember to call the babysitter. We have that Rotary Club function tonight!"

"Oh, Richard, tonight? You know how those things bore me to death!"

He was putting the finishing touches on his tie as he continued. "I know, baby, but I really need you there with me for this one. I'm being honored for raising most of the money for that new baseball park we built, so I should have my wife along for the ceremony."

I groaned, hating the idea of spending an evening with a bunch of aging Rotarians. The only redeeming feature of the gathering was that there wasn't a single black man in Richard's Rotary chapter. Nothing to worry about.

I had grown accustomed, in the last month or so to the fact that Frank (I had finally learned the name of the older black man from chapter two) or one of his friends was likely to be looking for me at the green grocer's. I limited my trips to once a week, and if I needed something in between weekly trips, I drove a little further, to Trader Joe's.

I ran across black men from time to time in my week, and I could certainly tell that Kris had been right. I did start to get wet any time I saw one, and began to wonder if this man would insist on having me. I was every bit the black cock slut he told me I was. But some of them didn't seem to notice, or maybe they didn't want me. Or maybe I managed to slip by them before they could pick of the scent of a white bitch in heat.

Whatever the reason, the only black cock I'd been forced to enjoy had found me at the store where I buy most of my vegetables. This was seeming pretty manageable. My newly learned need for black cock was being satisfied, but my life wasn't being terribly disrupted. I was leading a double life, but the darker side of it wasn't threatening to take over.

So, spending the evening with a bunch of old white farts wasn't my idea of fun, but at least it didn't threaten to upset my apple cart.

Richard left for work, and put Jason on the school bus. Now that he was in second grade, he wouldn't let me kiss him goodbye. He thought himself too grown up for that already. Mike watched Noodle on tv while I did housework, and then I took him to kindergarten after lunch. On the way home, I stopped at the cleaners to pick up Richard's shirts, and a dress of mine. It was a robin's egg blue silk wraparound that Richard loved on me. With a plunging neckline and hemmed at mid-thigh, it drew a lot of looks, even from men in their 60's. Richard would enjoy having me on his arm in this dress, and watching some of the other wives kicking their husbands.

I called the babysitter when I got home and arranged for Richard to pick her up on the way home from work. The function tonight was a dinner, but these things always started with a lenghty cocktail hour, during which the over-the-hill business men pretended they were still networking and controlling the flow of wealth. And then there were the few who had the good sense to lie about their golf games.

I picked up Mike just before Jason got home from school, and I gave them an afternoon snack before turning on the tv again. I made sure that I had clean pantyhose for the evening, some nice, sheer ones. This dress didn't allow me to wear a bra. I would finish it off with a strand of pearls and a pair of nude, strappy high-heeled sandals.

By the time Richard got home, I was nearly dressed. I finished my hair and makeup while he changed from his suit into a blazer and grey slacks. It is so much easier for men, getting dressed. It really isn't fair. We gave Kelly money for pizza for herself and the boys and headed out the door. The dinner was at a local catering hall, a really nice place where we'd been for several weddings and such.

Arriving at the hall, we were directed to a smaller dining area on the second floor. Built recently, the walls were covered with mirrors and chrome, which offset the dimness of the lighting a bit. Fake candle sconces lit the way. The dining room we were using was big enough to seat twice our number, but when we entered, the tables had been taken up in one half the room, allowing them to set up a mobile bar for the cocktail hour.

With my hand in Richard's arm, I let him lead me through the crowd, absorbing the compliments and gazes of the Rotarians. We made our way directly to the bar, where Richard and I both ordered vodka martinis. If I was going to be here, I was going to drink plenty of free liquor!. When we'd collected our drinks, Richard started to work the room. He stopped to talk to a couple of older members, and then suddenly he pulled me off to my right.

"Oh, honey, you have to meet these guys. They were the ones I worked with all through the process. We raised the money, but this project would never have happened without them." I wasn't tall enough, even in my heels, to see where we were going until Richard parted the last few couples and said, "Jamal! Leroy! Ahmed! So glad you could make it!"

I nearly dropped my drink (which wouldn't have made too much difference at this point, as it was nearly empty already). Standing in front of us were the only three black faces in the room. Richard took the time to introduce me to each one of them. I shook their hands and tried to hide the fact that my heart was trying to pound through my chest. I must have flushed at least a little, and I could feel myself moisten almost immediately. I wondered if I would be able to maneuver away from them before they picked up the scent.

Richard didn't help a bit. He had to tell me how much each of them had contributed to the building of the new baseball park they'd financed downtown. Jamal looked to be in his late 20's. He was about Richard's height, but thinner, with a nice cap of tight curls on his head. His skin was the color of rich milk chocolate, and he made my mouth water. It seems he was a high school teacher, and the man who had crossed all the t's and dotted all the i's for the City Council to get the zoning changes that were required to build the park.

Leroy was a few years older, taller, and maybe a bit slimmer. His head was shaved, and it shone like a bowling ball. His skin was the color of mahogany, so dark it shone. I was lead to wonder about whether or not it was true about tall skinny men. Of course, he was already black. I'm not sure what more I was expecting. He was the coach who had inspired the local parents to get behind the building of the field. His efforts had kept the heat on the Council to get things done.

Ahmed was the landscaper and builder. He wasn't very tall, maybe 5'9" or so, and stockier than the other two. His handshake was almost painful to me. His hands were hard, incredibly strong, and heavily calloused. He had those tiny dreads that I think are so hot, neatly kept. Ahmed had used his crews to create the fields and stands, and done it below cost.

They were impressive men in their own rights, even if they weren't also the object of my immediate lust. I tried a couple of times to disengage Richard from this conversation, but he really enjoyed talking to them. Finally I whispered into his ear, "Richard, my drink is empty." I guess I didn't whisper softly enough, because Jamal grinned. "Ours are all empty too, Becky! Here, let us give you a hand with that!" He collected my glass and he and the other two hurried to the bar to get refills.

Damn. It wasn't bad enough that Jamal had offered to help me with my need. Somehow, all three of them wanted to be in on it! My heart was in my throat as they returned, not sure how I'd manage to do what they wanted without Richard finding out. Richard was very accomodating. "Well, honey, they all seem quite taken with you, and I know you hate these old fogies, so I'm going to leave you with them, and go talk to Barry and Frank for a bit. It's a long time till dinner, try not to drink too much!" He laughed and walked away as Jamal and his friends handed me my drink.

I gulped at it nervously. "Um.. thank you for your offer to help me... I uh.. I'm not sure how we do it though, in a place like this." Jamal looked at Ahmed and shrugged. I knew I wasn't keeping to the rules, but it was difficult to be as plain spoken as I was supposed to be in the midst of this crowd. I leaned closer and whispered.

"You're right, Jamal, I'm a black cock slut. I can't say not to you, and you know it. I want your cock.. I want all your cocks, I just don't know what to do next."

Leroy overheard me, and choked on something in his drink, I guess, because he sprayed it all over me. The three of them exchanged looks as I blotted his bourbon off my dress. I looked at Jamal. I don't know if this will stain the silk, but I need to try to get it off quickly. Do you know where I can go?

A light seemed to go off in his head. "Why don't you go down to the basement, where the kitchen is. I bet they'll have some of those dry cleaning pads. Then, when you're done, why don't you wait down there. We'll be down in a bit. Don't want to be seen leaving all at once."

Then I realized just how well planned this all had been. I now had a perfect reason to tell Richard I was leaving the room. Leroy's "accident" had been quite intentional! I found Richard and let him know I wanted to try to get the drink out of the arm of my dress before it dried, and hurried out of the room and down two flights of stairs to the basement. A huge, modern kitchen was in full swing when I got there, but they took time to find just what Jamal had said they might have. It looked like one of those finger towels that come in foil wrappers, but this was a smaller pad that stank of dry cleaning solution.

With the help of one of the (white) waitstaff, I swabbed away the bourbon. It dried quickly, leaving no stain at all. I was relieved, at least until I saw Ahmed turn the corner on the stairs, grinning. He came over, looked down at my shoulder and said, "I'm glad that came out. Shame to ruin such a nice dress." Then he took me by the arm and said, "This way."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see. We found a place."

He led me down a hall, then opened a door on his right and took me into a long, narrow room whose walls were lined with wire shelving, the chrome kind. On the shelves were piles and piles of table clothes and napkins. It was a huge linen closet. Jamal and Ahmed were waiting. Jamal noted that my dress had been saved, and I asked him if I could take it off. It would be a shame to ruin it now.

"Of course. Whatever you like, just remember, we don't want to be gone too long."

I untied the dress at my left, where it wrapped around, and shrugged out of it, hanging it from the post of a nearby shelf. All that time naked with Kris and T served me well. I felt very little embarrassment as I kicked off my sandals and stripped my pantyhose to the ground. Naked, I stood back up. The three of them were all fumbling with belts and zippers. They'd watched, rather than keeping up. I loved that.

None of them was anywhere near hard when they dropped their pants, so I did what I knew any good black cock slut would do, I knelt on the concrete floor and opened my mouth. Jamal was the first to fill it, stepping forward, holding himself in one hand. I took his cock from him and started to suck it, making loud slurping noises. He moaned and grabbed my head, rocking his hips. The other two grabbed my hands and wrapped them around their growing members, encircling my hand with theirs, fucking my hands while they waited for Jamal to step back.

When he was nearly hard, Jamal backed up and left room for one of the others. Neither moved at first, so Jamal hurried them up. "C'mon, you two. If we're gonna do this, let's do it. She's waiting!"

I smiled up at him for his consideration. After all, it was my husband waiting up there. They had all the time in the world. Ahmed, the shortest of the three, wasn't particularly long in the cock department, either. Maybe eight and half inches, but as he was stocky, so was his dick. I had to open really wide to avoid scratching him with my teeth.

He was nearly hard by the time I got him in my mouth, so it didn't take much to get him ready. Leroy's cock, long, if not terribly thick, was even darker than the rest of him, coal black. I sucked hungrily on it until it would stand on its own, then Jamal lifted me off my knees.

"Don't want you to go upstairs with bruises, Becky." He was jerking himself, keeping his cock good and hard. "Lemme see how you're doing." He stepped close and put his finger between my legs. Obediently, I lifted one leg to the side and he pushed his finger inside me. "Yeah, you're plenty wet. Shoulda known." I smiled, glad that I was ready for him. He turned me around and pushed me over, my hands on my knees. "Spread your feet some." I did. He had to spread his feet even more to get his cock low enough to do me standing up that way, but he managed. Rubbing the head of his cock between my pussy lips to get it slick, he said, "Why don't you guys keep her mouth busy while I get off back here?"

Ahmed moved closer, turning my head to the side, and pushing his hips foward. Holding me there, he fucked my mouth while his friend worked his rigid cock into my pussy. "Damn, bitch is tight," he grunted as he worked more and more of it up inside me. I was squealing with delight, feeling every inch of it moving deeper and deeper into my aching cunt. His stiff meat pushed further, further in, until he was griding his scratchy pubes against my ass.

With a swift motion, Kris withdrew and slammed himself home again,and the fucking was "on." He fucked me like a man in a hurry, slapping his groin against my ass rapidly, burying himself balls deep with every thrust. Ahmed tried to hold my head still, but couldn't. I did my best to suck on him, but it was a lost cause. He stepped away and jerked himself, watching as Jamal fucked me hard and fast.

I started to whimper, dropping my head and just feeling it all, my bare tits shaking madly, my pussy screaming at me. I bit my own lip to keep from crying out as my first orgasm crashed over rme. All three of them chuckled at my attempt to remain quiet. "Don't worry, Becky. They know what we're doing. We just paid them to stay away for a while," said Leroy.

Jamal wasn't talking, because he was too busy grunting. He growled low in his throat and pushed deep, holding his cock all the way inside me when it started to spew. I felt him jerking in my pussy, emptying his heavy black balls, hardly moving except for the grinding he did against me. When at last he had finished, he stepped back and Ahmed stepped up. He wasn't so tall, he could keep his feet together and still stuff himself quickly into my cum-slicked cunt.

His hard, rough hands gripped my hips and he pushed his fat tool into me, stretching me again. Not deep, but so very thick, his cock started to hammer at me like one of his power tools, digging a post hole in the flesh of my fuckhole. I started to moan more and more loudly, no longer worried about the noise, and when my knees weakened and I came again, I shouted, "Oh, FUCK that's good cock!" Only his strong hands kept me from falling as the three of them laughed at my exclamation.

Then, without warning, he grunted and started to cum. Unlike Jamal, Ahmed kept thrusting, even more wildly if that were possible. It kept me from feeling much of his orgasm, but I could still tell, what with his cum dripping out of me and plopping loudly to the floor. He held his last three thrusts in me, then pulled out all at once and grabbed a napkin, cleaning himself. I held onto the shelf in front of me to keep from falling while Leroy took his place behind me.

It was awkward. With my feet spread enough to open for his cock, my pussy was so low he couldn't really get down to it. He pushed the head of his cock down to my sloppy slit, but when he pushed forward, it hurt him, and me.

"Shoes," said Jamal. "Put the heels back on." I looked over and realized that he was right. With the four inch heels on my sandals, we'd fit much better. I stepped into them and buckled them, bent at the waist. It seemed quite surreal to fastening my strappy sandals on, naked in a storeroom with three near strangers, with cum dripping down the inner surface of both thighs. When I'd finished I grabbled the shelving and bent over again, smiling back as Leroy stepped up behind me and pushed, shoving his entire black spear into my waiting pussy with one long even motion.

He hit bottom in me as he drove the last inch home, and I squealed with surprise. In this position, my ass usually kept guys from getting deep enough to do that to me, even black guys, now that I was used to them. He laughed a little and his friends warned him not to "choke" me by going too deep. I held on tight, and he went to work.

Like the bass drum in a disco song, he started to hammer at me, slamming against my cervix with every stroke. It hurt just enough to keep me from cumming, but I didn't care. I was in heaven with this long, long cock filling me time and again. I just kept my grip on the wire of the shelf and held still, perched on my high heels, legs spread wide, until Leroy gave a grunt of pleasure and started to spurt. He thrust forward fiercely, making me whimper with pain, as though he wanted to cram his seed up into my chest or something. When he finally finished, I was spent. He and the other two wiped themselves off (they didn't wait for me to clean them, which made me sad) and left quickly, instructing me to wait 5 minutes before following.

It took me that long to clean up. I wiped as clean as I could with another napkin, then took off my shoes to put my pantyhose back on. I thought about leaving them off, but I was pretty sure I would leak before the evening was over, and I really didn't want to ruin my dress, so I put them on and stuffed them with toilet paper. (I hadn't thought I'd need the panty liners I usually carry, so they were still at home. I don't leave them home at all any more.) There were a couple of small stains on my hose when I was finished dressing, but I knew I could hide those.

I walked back up the stairs on weak legs, got another drink and found Richard. He looked in my eyes, then at my martini. "I asked you not to drink too many of those," he whispered. I just giggled and slurped the vodka.