Caution! This chapter contains a scene with forced, male on male, oral. You might want to skip that part. Future chapters will be exclusively heterosexual.
I fit my other shoe after parking in our double wide driveway. Climbing out, I was more collected but damaged worse than I realized.
"Ridley! Peg!" I shouted entering the house. George must have been in such a hurry, he hadn't locked the front door.
"Hey, Mom, you're back!" My son shouted from his room. Neither child rushed to me.
"I told you she'd be back before midnight." Peg proclaimed as loudly.
"You said before nightfall!" His brother argued.
"You said she had left us for good!" She hammered him.
"Mom! I did not!" My thirteen year-old sounded like he was seven.
"Get out here, right now!" I heard myself screech!
Silence. Mother had never screamed at them before.
"Right now, both of you!" I repeated loudly without going hypersonic.
Two young teens emerged from their rooms and entered the living room. They looked full of disbelief. I remained standing in the entry, door shut behind me. "Listen, you two." My voice calmed only slightly. "Your father and I are dealing with some difficulties-"
"Mom, are you going to divorce?" Peg interrupted.
"Please, Mom, if you do, can I live with you?" Ridley pleaded. "Dad can have mean ol' Peg."
CRACK! My son's head spun from my angry slap! He yipped like a smacked dog. "MOM!"
Peg's jaw hung open. I had never struck them. When Ridley's head turned back, his jaw remained offset. They stared at me as if I were The Terminator.
I abruptly realized what I'd done! My anger sank into the floor, to be replaced by astonishment and sharp guilt! I went to the nearby couch, aghast at my action.
"I-I'm sorry-" I stuttered, but a follow-up flash of contempt swept through my heart. "No." I clenched my lips. "I'm not sorry." A glare erupted in my eyes.
"Mom, what happened?" Peg was the more reasoning child of mine. Mother wasn't in Kansas anymore.
"The gods put me through a wringer today. That's the last I'll discuss it. But if I learned anything from it, I'll go to the hells before I let you two act up again." Passion infused my voice instead of anger.
"Uh - Mom, I can kinda see your-" My son clamped his lips tight. His eyes however were glued to my chest!
I flung an arm around the shadows which my veiled nipples left on the thin blouse, but I didn't back down. "Hush! Go back to your rooms, and I don't want to hear another peep from you!"
"We haven't had supper-" Peg started, but when she saw me raise my hand, she backed away.
Ridley nearly turned and ran. His sister wasn't far behind when he disappeared around the hallway entrance.
I sank my knees into the couch and hugged the plush back, resting my face on the soft top. I wanted to cry, but I was past that. Eventually, I rose up and went George's and my bedroom. I drew a bath in our private room and soaked naked, the day's horror stirring my emotions like a whirlwind.
A long while later, George entered our bedroom. He moved like a zombie. "George?"
"There you are." He shuffled up to the open bathroom door. He was quite pale, obviously wanting to speak but unable.
I curled forward, knees covering my chest. "Now's not the time." I shut him down further. "Perhaps we can talk tomorrow."
We slept on opposite sides of our king sized bed that night. I huddled under a separate blanket, wearing pajamas and a gown over them. I couldn't handle the concept of George seeing me naked.
That he was bewildered enough to sleep away from me, I found odd even for his typical reluctance to enter conflict. That was both our troubles and why our children ran rampant. I'd known this for years but had never mustered the chutzpa to correct the situation. He also understood our mutual weakness and had similar motivation issues. I always thought we made the perfect couple.
One insatiable black man, old and fat, had shattered that foolish notion.
I woke up groggy and squinting from bright sunlight. I was alone in the room. I checked the clock. It was nearly nine. Rising and hauling my legs off the side of the bed, I got up and pressed my feet into a pair of slippers.
Angry shouts from the kitchen filtered through the bedroom door. I clutched the blanket around me like armor over my gown and pajamas and went out into the hall.
"Dad! We're late for school!" Ridley worried!
"You'll drive us today, right?" Peg accused. "It's your fault for not making breakfast sooner." Cowing their father into giving a ride to school was one of the few times the children joined forces for mutual gain.
"George. You're driving straight to work." I entered looking haggard but feeling more alive than usual. The kids' attitudes fell away at my surprise presence. "Peg! Ridley!" I called sharply. "School will have to wait for you to walk there." I glared at them. "Each of you are perfectly capable of making a simple meal, hopefully without burning down the place. Now fetch your things and go."
"But I'm not finish-"
I stabbed arm, hand, and finger at the hallway. "Go."
Our two teens slipped out of their chairs and stepped far around me to reach their rooms. Ridley unconsciously touched his left cheek.
George looked up from the table. "How did you do that?"
"Anger, George." I sat in Ridley's chair and began to eat was was left on his plate.
"I can't imagine what you're going through." He tried sounding sincere, but he could never lie convincingly, let alone his wife of nearly twenty years. Something was troubling him.
"Why were you so late getting home?"
"Oh." Panic flared in his eyes. "I decided to stop-"
"Don't lie to me, George. I'm not going to divorce you even if you stabbed a salesclerk on the way home."
"That." He tried to endrun the issue. "I was at my wit's end, yesterday. I never should have said that."
I hissed my nose at him and finished the food on the plate in front of me. Without taking my accusing eyes off of my reluctant husband, I reached over the table and grabbed Peg's plate.
He picked at his food. Peg and Ridley came from the hall and cautiously shuffled out the front door.
George's head tilted at their reserved obedience. He next hung his head and mumbled. "That man - at the hotel. He- He-" George's body shook. His voice wheezed. "...explained."
"Who, the hotel manager?"
"No." He unexpectedly squeaked. "The m-man who ... attacked you."
Gods! My strength drained. The stranger had done more than talked to George. That much was obvious from the whimpers George emitted while trying to hide his tears.
"George!" I blurted with the last of my bluster. "What happened? You have to tell me."
"It's too shameful." He shook his head.
"What did you do? I promise, I can handle it." After yesterday's gauntlet of humiliation, I was ready for anything.
"I went back to the room." He wheezed.
"No." My head shook. "What were you thinking?"
"I found my phone. The glass was cracked but still worked. I blamed him. I went up the stairs..."
***
George was pumped up to investigate. Curiosity, great concern for my wellbeing, and just enough remorse for his phone, gave him stupid courage to knock on door 23. "I'm her husband. I demand to talk with you, or I'm calling the police." He thought he had all the power.
The door opened, the stranger stood sneering, a unamused, naked titan assessing my five foot, eight inch husband. "Yeah? What's your name?" His question had more force than George's demand.
"Uh, George."
"Hmph." The old black sneered. "Yeah, that's right." He had heard me call my husband's name into my phone. Sneer notwithstanding, the stranger held out his hand to be shaken. My name's Leland. Tell the cops it's Leland Jones. They have a file for me. There's not much in it, but you can verify my mug shots when they want your testimony."
Leland Jones held his hand steady before him. It wasn't an offer to refuse. "But first you're gonna have to get your wife to press charges."
George was foolish to grasp the hand, still confident he had the edge.
Leland didn't crush my husband's hand, but he made it clear that physically messing with him was going to be very painful for George. "One thing I guarantee, George, is the hotel manager will swear that she hired the room on her own accord. I wasn't even in the office when she handed her card to him."
"Colleen was under a lot of stress. I'm sure good lawyer will find just means to charge a man who took advantage of a severely depressed woman." George was doing his best to sustain his foolish notion of having the advantage.
"That's her name? Colleen?" Leland Jones picked his nose and flicked the snot at my husband. "Get in here." He reached out, grabbed George by the elbow and dragged him into the room. "I was getting a draft." The naked old, heavy man shut the door and locked the additional bolt.
"That's assault." George accused.
"No, it's not." Leland scoffed. "Touching is battery." He guarded the door. "Now sit down, and let's talk real good." He used poor grammar as a threat.
Before he could stop himself, George sat on the foot of the bed stained by his wife's and the black man's juices.
"I took a liking to your wife when I first saw her." Leland began. "When I found out she was a push-over, I drove her here, and we fucked." He chuckled. "I should say, I fucked her."
George's eyes had been straining to look away from the black man's dangling dick. But Leland's confession drew his eyes to the prize still gooey from my pussy and a stranger's cum.
"You abused her." My husband found that he couldn't meet my assailant's eyes while accusing the black man.
"Probably, but she left of her free will. You witnessed that. Has she called the cops?"
"I'll convince her. She's not like women of your generation who were too frightened to speak up about being raped because the legal system was stacked against them."
"You speak real pretty, George." Leland's sneer widened. "But why are you talking to my big black dick?"
George's head jerked up. He eyes met Leland's shining orbs, and his heart shrank before them. He averted his gaze to the door. "I have nothing else to say." He stood up and took one step to the exit.
Leland pushed him just right to send George's butt back on the bed. "Why leave when the conversation was just getting interesting?"
George's last hurrah was to pull out his phone and try to emergency dial, 911.
Leland predictably slapped the cracked phone out of my husband's hand. "You got a pretty mouth, George. Why waste it on the cops?"
"Let me go." George bolted up from the bed, but the large black man caught him and carried him back, plopping my husband down like a sack of pork rinds.
"Now I'm gonna talk, George. You try anything else, and I won't be so gentle." Leland asserted.
The last of poor George's will shrank into a mote. "This is crazy, Leland. You're just making it worse for you." He tried reasoning with the oppressive man.
Leland growled. "From now on, Georgie Porgie, you will address me as Mr. Jones. That's the first thing I have to tell you. Got that?"
George had lost the ability to meet his captor's eyes. "Sure. Whatever." He promised himself never to speak any name for the black man.
"Second-" Leland's laugh interrupted himself. "You're looking at my prick again. You got some kind of queer backstory?"
"No!" George blurted then mumbled. "I just wish you'd put on some clothes."
"Then why do I think a man with such a pretty mouth must have had a few experiments which put his pretty mouth to good use?"
George urgently wanted to persist with denial, but he found himself trying to reason with the utterly unreasonable old man. "That was long before I married, just a couple times. Kids in my generation were nearly encouraged to explore. I love my wife, and we are very happy together."
"Oh, so the truth comes out. Now all you got to do is admit you enjoyed it."
"I'm not going to say anything more until you let me out of here." It was my husband's last line of defense, and it failed horribly.
"Good, I was getting bored of the conversation too." Leland strode up to George, grabbed his hair, and shook his head.
My husband screamed from a pain he'd never experienced before! "Let me go!"
Leland hefted his cock and aimed the soft length at my husband's wide mouth. "I thought you said you were done talking. Let me help you with that." He jammed his prick head into George's lips, but it was met by clamped teeth.
"Why'd you make your lips ugly all of a sudden?" Leland slapped my husband's face with the end of his heavy dick. He shook George's head harder. "Open up, George, and you better not bite. I'll break your fucking neck!"
The pain in his skull was torture for my mild-mannered husband. His guttering willpower couldn't muster further resistance. George opened his mouth, and Mr. Jones stuffed his soft length into my husband's face!
"That's much better." Leland eased his grip. "Now I'll give you a moment to let my cock soak before I tell you to start sucking." He had jammed nearly half of his prick past George's lips!
George's defeated eyes swung up, pleading for mercy from the black man's cold expression. An awful taste from the gagging pecker made his stomach churn. But he was helpless to prevent what was being forced upon him.
"That's long enough." Leland grinned. "Now start sucking, and I'd appreciate more than a little tongue."
Against his will, George's mouth and tongue began working, anything to prevent hair being torn from his scalp!
"Yeah, you probably only sucked a couple times, like you said - long in the past. But you'll get the hang of it again."
My husband gagged as the fat meat in his mouth hardened and lengthened. The end grew to block his gullet which began convulsing painfully. He couldn't breathe!
Leland's free hand slapped my husband's cheek, producing more sound than pain. Still the sting grabbed his attention and broke his will further. "You don't throw up on me, right? Hold that back a little bit longer, and I'll make it easier for you. I kinda like how your throat is struggling against my prick head."
George gagged for endless seconds while trying to keep his stomach from erupting. His tongue flailed randomly against the underside of the suffocating mass.
"Ahhhh!" Leland pulled two inches from my husband's face. "Catch your breath for a bit, and we'll start again."
George gasped and heaved lungfuls of air. The prick stuffed into his mouth kept getting longer, fatter, and harder. It would soon fill the gap which his assailant had given.
Before my husband's need for air was sated fully, Leland clenched the hair in his hand, tight! George groaned but his expression of agony was cut off by the massive head growing behind his tongue. "Suck it harder, Bitch!" Leland jabbed his prick deeper.
George convulsed from imminent asphyxiation. He forced himself to suck harder, unable to do anything but follow the old, black man's orders.
"Yeah! That's the ticket!" Leland roared! He let go of my husband's hair and stepped back, six inches of black snake plopping out of the poor man's croaking throat!
George gasped again, desperate to catch air and survive the next few seconds. His vision had dimmed to near darkness, with only pinholes to look through. The one thing he could see was the fully erect length and wide of Leland Jone's mighty cock!
"Yeah, that'll do nicely, you gay bitch." Leland took himself in hand and slowly jerked. "Now what have you to say?"
George had begun to weep when he was choking for the second time. He burst into heaving sobs aided by his ongoing need for oxygen.
"I can't hear if you're saying anything." Leland slapped his hard dick across my husband's cheeks, smacking him twice, once in each direction. "Talk to me, or I'll stuff your gob again."
"I- can't h-handle this. You almost killed me. Let me go!"
"RRRNNNKKK!! Wrong speech, mouth pussy boy. This is where you thank me for helping you relive bygone days of happy faggoting."
George hung his head and wept. His sobs faded as his lungs caught their breath.
CRACK! A heavy, black hand crashed against my husband's skull! "Thank me, Faggot, and you better address me proper!"
"Thank you, Mr. Jones." Poor, broken George wailed abruptly, no longer able to think - just obey.
"For what, Mouth Cunt?" Leland leered down from his great height advantage.
"For letting me suck you."
"Suck what and why? Make me believe you mean it!" The black man slapped George's face again, but just enough to encourage a proper response.
My broken husband started from scratch, praying that the man would finally let him go, if he said it right. "Thank you - Mr. Jones - for letting me suck your big, black, cock and for helping me relive the joy of sucking a man's dick."
"Okay then, you're very welcome." Leland answered with a helping of sarcasm. "You can speak real pretty-like when you try. It makes your mouth look like a hungry cunt when you talk like that, but where are my manners? I need to thank you."
George didn't dare ask why, but too he worried that he might be punished for not asking.
"Thank you, Pussy Mouth, for making my dick about as hard as it gets!" The black man laughed. "Now we can put it to even more fun of a use!"
"NOO!" George shouted in terror!
"What, you never took it up the butt before?" The fat old man scratched his head. "I guess some faggots just like to suck a cock." He shrugged. "Maybe I should offer you an alternative."
The unspoken 'alternative' terrified George worse than getting ass-fucked!" The blood in his face drained completely away. He grimaced with lips open. His head shook slowly side to side.
Leland's wicked grin returned. He bent down and picked up George's phone. Straightening, he held it out to him. "Take this and unlock it for me, George. I don't mind it's cracked, and you were going to get a new phone anyway." The black man reminded, "Do it for me, and you can take your butt virginity out that door, never to return."
Sure! George had to restrain himself from grabbing the phone too quickly. He pressed his finger to the main button. "Now I just have to erase it. Won't take long."
Like a diving eagle, Leland snatched the phone from my husband's shaking hands. "Fuck that. Now git!" He commanded.
My husband's eyes nearly exploded when he realized what he was giving to the man who had raped his mouth! To remove the vast information of his personal life, was now impossible.
The heavy set, black man could mop the floor with his face while stiffing his colon with the largest, fattest, cock he'd ever seen. With a cry of mental anguish, he dashed to the door, fumbled with the lock, finally unlatched it, opened it, leaped outside, bent over suddenly, and puked his guts out. A chuckling old black man, wanking slowly on his big cock, kicked the door shut, sending my husband wailing into the night!
I could only shake my head at the end of my devastated husband's tale.
"I'm going to press charges, Colleen. I need you to back up my story. We'll put that villain behind bars where he belongs!"
Going to the police was an enticing fantasy, but I could never face Leland Jones ever again. I would break down and say anything to clear him of wrongdoing. More important matters wedged into my thoughts. George was late for work. It wasn't a big deal, but it would stain a spotless record of attendance. It was my excuse to tell him. "You head to work, George. I'll try to figure out what I can tell the police."
"I love you, Colleen." He launched himself from the kitchen table, kissed my cheek, and headed for his briefcase and keys at the front door.
When the front door shut behind him, I slumped in Ridley's chair, suddenly realizing how much I'd eaten. There wasn't a scrap left on the table. I might even have stolen George's remaining bites from his plate!
I too had a job, one that let me work from home. It was part-time work as a customer service rep for a traditional chain of high-end clothing and cosmetics, but I worked for their also-ran, online store.
George called me at lunch, and I picked up my phone without thinking.
The baritone voice sounded as powerfully as ever. "Colleen, I checked out of the hotel, but I need a ride to the Social Security office. Bastards are holding back my checks!"
My free hand flew up, fingers frantic to stab the disconnect button, but it merely hovered over the red circle.
"I-I can't." I heard myself speak into the microphone. "I'm working." It wasn't really a lie. While I was technically taking a lunch, I'd have to sign into the call board in just a few minutes.
"Shit. I might not make it there in time, if I had to bus to your house, on 1377 Waverly St. in order to borrow your car."
Of course he knew our address. He had access to every iota of information on my husband's phone.
"Please, Mr. Jones, just leave me and my husband alone. Haven't you done enough to us?" I started babbling. "He wants to press charges, but if you promise to go away, I'll promise he never will."
"So that's the way you're gonna be." Leland's sigh sounded fake even through the cell connection. "And after all the fun we had, yesterday."
"That was a nightmare!" My voice nearly broke into unabashed anger.
"Maybe it was for you, on the surface, but I think you aren't being honest with yourself. Deep down, you need what I can give to you."
My mind suddenly reflected on my behavior when I returned home the night before. I confronted my children's constant bickering and got them to shut up. I'd never been able to do that, not until- A cold shiver ran down my spine.
"You're not making any sense. It was horrible!" I persisted.
But he had me talking, and he knew, unless I hung up, he would win the victory eventually. Deep down, I may have known that too.
"Let's cut the bullshit." He attacked. "You're not going to charge me, and without you, your husband can't make his case." He waited, but I didn't respond.
"I understand you don't want me dropping by your home. You've got two beautiful kids, and it might twist their minds if they interrupted us."
Bastard! Of course George had pictures of us and the kids! I fumed on the inside, but I couldn't draw on my anger to form words. The idea of Peg and Ridley finding me pinned by an old, black man's cock, no matter how large, was too terrifying!
George would divorce me, and I would never see my kids again. Cold certainty forced me to ask for the address of Leland's destination. I had my doubts about the Social Security office. My rapist didn't look or act like the minimum age to receive payments. Perhaps he had lied to the administration and forged his paperwork.
That wasn't my problem, I told myself during the drive back to that awful hotel!
Tears of helplessness formed in my eyes when I saw him flag down my Volvo. I pulled up at the curb, and he opened the driver side door. "It's bad manners for a man to let a woman drive." He asserted.