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Chapter 10 Back To Cheryl
“Nice and smooth, like a baby’s butt,” said Levar running his hand over Cheryl’s newly shaved sex.
My multi-talented wife had used a pair of barber scissors to trim Cheryl’s luxuriant growth down to an an eighth of an inch before she lathered the area and shaved it smooth. Fortunately, I kept a shaving kit in my office for the times I don’t shave then learn I have a client coming to visit.
When it came time to shave the ring of fur surrounding Cheryl’s butthole, Levar helped Corrine by lifting her legs and holding them under his armpits while his huge hands parted her buttocks. He seemed totally enthralled by the process. “She’s got fur around her asshole. I didn’t know women had that, must be just white girls.”
“Black women have body hair but in general less than Caucasians and that applies to males as well. Asians have even less body hair,” said Corrine never missing an ex-school teacher’s chance to pass on knowledge. I don’t think Levar understood a word of what she said. He was too busy running his fingers over Cheryl’s hairy sphincter.
“Let me,” said Levar taking the tube of lotion out of Corrine’s hand.
“All right but take it easy,” said Corrine watching as Levar squirted the white cream on his fingers then gently massaged it into Cheryl’s pubes.
Cheryl had started to move around a little indicating she was coming out of whatever they had drugged her with.
I’d noticed Jerome over to the side getting something ready that involved a bent tablespoon and butane lighter. Still I was surprised when he arrived by the bed with a syringe and a length of surgical tubing.
“What’s that,” asked Corrine?
“Speedball,” said Jerome. “It’ll wake her up and get her going.”
“What’s a speedball,” asked Corrine?
“H and C,” answered Jerome wrapping the tubing around Cheryl’s upper arm.
“And exactly what is H and C,” asked Corrine sounding pissed likes she always does when she gets an answer she doesn’t understand?
“For a woman who claims she was a school teacher, you sure don’t know much, heroin and cocaine, the best of both worlds,” said Jerome taping Cheryl’s flesh to bring out a vein.
“Are you going to swab that,” asked Corrine?
“Fresh out of swabs,” said Jerome preparing to use the syringe.
“Hold it, I’ve got some,” said Corrine reaching into her fluffer’s tool kit for an alcohol swab.
We all watched as Jerome expertly injected the speedball in Cheryl’s arm. He later told Corrine he was a medic in the army.
“That’ll fix her right up,” said Jerome when he was done. “I mixed in a little crank to give her a boost.”
“If it doesn’t kill her,” said Corrine.
“She’ll be fine, ready to fuck her own daddy,” said Jerome.
Cheryl was certainly fine as far as I was concerned. A full head of curly black hair that belonged in a shampoo commercial, attractive, well balanced facial features, long graceful neck, and a tall slender figure in good proportions. She could have gotten work as a runway model.
Lying there nude with her freshly shaved pussy, she had an aura of innocence that was giving everyone a hard on.
I kept questioning how such an attractive female had somehow managed to preserve the membrane sealing her opening. Later, Corrine informed me the belief there were no virgins past the age of thirteen was a typical male fantasy.
“Haven’t you ever heard of Queen Elizabeth, the Virgin Queen? They named a state after her,” said Corrine.
“Which one,” I asked.
“Virginia,” said Corrine looking superior.
That’s what I get for marrying a schoolteacher. Cheryl was the star of my seventeenth porn film for Al Quarles. I kept a spreadsheet on my home PC of the date, time and star of each film. After the first two, it settled into an irregular pattern where every four to six weeks, Morgan would alert me to expect a visit. If any of my employees noticed they didn’t say anything other than one of the female copywriters asking Corrine why there was such an extensive collection of sexy lingerie in the prop cage.
Fortunately, there were no more pregnant ones like Marilyn or difficult ones like Noreen. Except for one who was some losing gambler’s sister, they were all wives in their late thirties and up.
The oldest was fifty-three. She bore up surprisingly well demonstrating her body tissue had retained its elasticity during several double stuffing scenes. The least appetizing was named Lois who tipped the scales at something over two hundred. Lois would not stop crying even when Morgan threatened to slice off the clit she had hidden underneath thick folds of labia. The tears did not prevent her from performing in the usual fashion it just made everything seem a little sad.
Picture a porcine female engage in panoply of different sex acts all the while blubbering like a two year old. Jerome’s crew thought it was a hoot and I believe actually felt sorry for her. One odd thing happened after we finished with Lois. After three hours of being fucked in every position and in every hole by six different men and one woman, she said thank you to each of them and kissed them on the cheek. I suppose that when you looked like Lois getting that much sex in one outing was something to be thankful for.
When I mentioned to Corrine that Lois would be pretty if she dropped fifty pounds, she huffily informed me Lois was beautiful just as she is and that all men including me were so stupid about what makes a woman beautiful. Strange that Corrine who watched her diet and spent the first two hours of each workday at the gym would defend obese Lois. But neither Freud nor I understand women.
Morgan and Corrine continued having sex before each filming. I masturbated as I watched looking forward to when she would arrive in the Control Room with her thighs clamped together so she could share his treasure with me.
Several months ago, our little pre-film scenario underwent a change that had a significant impact on my psyche. I was in the Control Room engaged in self-abuse. Corrine and Morgan were in the bed. Five cameras and three microphones were informing me how much my wife enjoyed fucking him. She was squeezing her tits, riding his pony, all the while muttering endearments such as, “Fuck me harder, give it to me, you beautiful black motherfucker.”
Corrine was going at it with her usual élan when Morgan made a suggestion that since it came from him was a command. “Ask Tom to join us.”
It was interesting he wanted Corrine to ask me. He could just as easily said, “Get your ass out here, Tom.” Did making Corrine ask me reinforce my understanding of where I was in the come chain. When it comes to mind games I’m not very good and Morgan was a master.
Corrine looked up at the camera, smiled and spoke. “Come out and join us, Tom.”
I didn’t bother to put my cock back in my pants before I walked the twenty feet to the set. Morgan’s lean muscled body was lying on his back in the center of the bed. His clothes were neatly folded on a nearby table where Corrine had placed them as she undressed him. The semi-automatic was resting in its holster. Morgan’s other gun was inside my wife.
I stroked as I watched them. Corrine was doing all the work. Morgan wasn’t moving just laying there looking in my direction. He wanted me to notice the obvious. She wasn’t holding anything back. She was pulling out all the stops. Sheen of perspiration covered her back. Her eyes were tightly closed. She was muttering something under her breath. Her fingers had a grip on each nipple and she was working them hard, using her nails. She straddled him leaning slightly forward.
From her backside, I could see his glistening black cock and the way the white skin surrounding Corrine’s vagina clung to it as she raised and lowered herself. Christ, her pussy loved that black cock holding on to it with its own sense of desperation.
Each time she raised her body, I could see her abdomen contract. She was squeezing his dick with her core muscles. It was her Pilate’s breath, in through the nose, out the mouth, lifting her rib cage on the inhale, totally focused.
She wants it to be good for him I realized. No, not just good, great, the best piece of ass he ever had. What does he think I wondered? When Morgan’s downtown on Third Avenue hanging with the brothers, does he tell them about screwing this white guy’s wife? Do they all laugh as he brags about how crazy she gets when his black dick is in her twat? What does he say about me? “The prick jerks off while he watches us. He captures the whole thing on video so he can whack off to it later. And after I dump my load in her cunt, the crazy bastard sucks my jism out and swallows it like it was mother’s milk.”
I wondered if they have an ethnic term for white men who get off sucking black men’s semen out of their wife’s pussy. Corrine mentioned something about cream pie eaters but that didn’t sound like a black man’s slang. At that point the idea came to me that everything about what the three of us were doing turned me on. Even the thought of Morgan telling others about us made my dick hard.
“Tell Tom to come closer,” said Morgan interrupting my efforts to gain psychological insights into what was happening.
“Come here, baby,” said Corrine opening her eyes and looking in my direction. A few steps took me to beside the bed.
“Tom wants to eat your pussy,” said Morgan.
“Eat my pussy, Tom,” said Corrine leaning back to give me access. Her hands were resting on his knees. She let her head fall back as she thrust her tits toward the ceiling. It was an image so hot it seared a black spot in my brain.
I felt like I was in a trance as I started to climb on the bed but Morgan had another idea.
“Tell Tom to get undressed first,” said Morgan to Corrine.
Corrine conveyed his orders immediately. “Get undressed, Tom, so you can lick my pussy while I fuck Morgan.”
I quickly shed my clothes in a pile by the bed; then I climbed on the edge. I hesitated a moment trying to decide what to do next. Three ways were new to me. I leaned in to get a close-up view of his cock as it advanced and retreated. I felt a large powerful hand on the back of my neck. It pulled me down to their joined crotches. The side of my face came to rest on Morgan’s abdomen. My ear was right on his belly button.
Then he did something that almost freaked me out. I felt a large rough hand wrap around my balls and squeeze gently. The last time that happened, the swelling did not go down for three days and a switchblade was involved. But I managed to stay calm and before long, the way he was manhandling my gonads felt very good indeed. Morgan’s action struck me as anything but heterosexual.
Which frankly I am, hetero that is or was up until Morgan happened along. That’s not strictly true. Once, in high school, my best friend and I gave each other a blowjob. Actually it was more than once but we were both more interested in girls than guys. Alex, who works for me as a graphic designer says you’re born either gay or straight and that bisexuality is a fraud. I definitely considered myself straight.
But there I was with the side of my face resting on Morgan’s sweaty belly while his hand was massaging my balls.
“Lick me, Tom,” said Corrine putting her hand on the back of my head to press my face against her crotch bringing me in contact with both her pussy and his cock.
My father had an old saying he liked. “It’s time to fish or cut bait.” It seemed to apply to my situation. My mouth moved forward a quarter inch and started fishing. On the down stroke it lapped at Corrine’s clit that was in a state of expansion I had not previously witnessed. On the uplift, my tongue moved along the shaft of Morgan’s dick.
The smell and taste of her pussy and his cock was driving me over the edge. Not to mention the feedback my pleasure centers were receiving from the way he was stroking my balls.
After several minutes of mind blowing three-way sex, Morgan ordered a change. “Corrine, Tom needs it too.”
Corrine opened her eyes and looked down at me. She rose up, allowing Morgan’s cock to slip out of her pussy onto the side of my face. It felt wet and hot against my cheek.
Corrine took hold of Morgan’s cock and repositioned it at my lips. “Take it, baby, let me feed you his big beautiful black cock.”
While thinking the use of big black and beautiful was excessive alliteration, I opened my mouth, took it in and sucked on it. It wasn’t there long. Corrine was only willing to share up to a certain point.
After a few minutes, I got to repeat the act and later a third time. After that Morgan indicated he was ready to come and it was best effort time on the part of Corrine and me. My mouth sucked and licked the side of his penis as it pounded into Corrine. His hand was massaging my ball sack. He moved his thumb to my anus and pressed it against my sphincter.
“Oh yeah,” exclaimed Morgan as he deposited his load in my wife’s pussy. Corrine responded with her own noisy climax. Hers went on for a long time. Out of breath, she fell forward into his waiting arms.
They kissed for a minute before he spoke. “That was good, baby. Tell Tom he needs to clean me up before he gets his reward.”
Corrine reached down to take hold of Morgan’s softening cock holding it for me. “Lick Morgan clean, Tom.”
Why not I told myself as I performed my janitorial duties. I replaced the coating of his semen and her glandular secretions with my saliva. Morgan rolled off the bed when I was done. I looked expectantly at him. I was hard as a rock and dying to come.
“Corrine, give Tom what he wants,” said Morgan.
Thirty seconds later, I was underneath Corrine getting more than a taste. We engaged in mutual oral. Two of her fingers were in my ass. One hand was massaging my balls while she sucked my dick. My face was buried in her pussy. My tongue was straining to see how far it could reach. I swallowed a mouthful of second hand jism as I pumped my load in Corrine’s mouth.
I was lying there on the bed breathing heavy when Morgan’s cell rang. He answered, spoke maybe two words then ended the call. “Better get dressed Tom or Jerome and his crew will find out you’re queer.”
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