Pussy Spice

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Marlon pulled out of me his thick cock dragging slowly free, his glans glistening with the creamy white slime of his ejaculate. From the side he took up the little tub of pussy spice cream. I knew what it was. Once it was rubbed into my sex, once Peter licked it, the addiction of cum licking, black cock worship would be irreversible. He dipped a finger in the goo smiled and worked it into me. Tonight, Peter would become my slave.

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There came a night, on our own marriage bed, when Marlon had once again pounded my sex, makng me beg him to ejaculate inside, when it was decided that i was probably ready. Just how that time is decided is perhaps moot, but my hunch was that the black guy decides by then that he wants to own this bitch. Just getting one over with her, on the quiet, was not enough. It’s probably the moment when his bitch starts talking about wanting him to kick her husband out and take over the nest so that she can have his children. It’s certainly an ideological thing too, because if you’re a brother, you do believe that the black man comoth to rule in all his glory. 

Marlon pulled out of me, his juddering cock dragging free leaving strands of his sticky cum stringing between his glistening phallus and my totally creamed pussy. My sex was spasming at it always did once he had been up me. I tightened rhythmically that way to keep as much of his spunk inside of me as possible. It was a wasted effort. I was so full of his generous gift that I soon enough felt the excess running down my buttocks again. He kissed me slowly, his lips coming to mine and slowly glancing across so that I opened, begging him to tongue within. When he enjoyed me there, his tongue tangling with mine, I shuddered against his taut body. He felt massive, solid, utterly utterly masculine. 

‘I adore you.’ i whispered when his kiss ended. I felt like a small kitten in his arms. He was so big and so powerful. Two months we had been going together and i was completely besotted with the man. You should NEVER fall for a man that hard and that fast. If you do, check yourself, because you are surely insane. 

Marlon reached to the side locker beside our bed and took up the little tub of pure white cream that sat there. It looked nothing special. It could have contained moisturising cream, or may be lip balm or something to help your skin breathe. I watched him ladle out a generous measure so that they covered the balls of two of his fingers. It was the second time that he had done this. 

‘Gonna work this into your pussy OK babe?’ he asked, his eyes fixed against mine. 

I nodded meekly. I trusted the man entirely. The last time that he did this the cream felt soft, delicious and cooling. Feeling him mix it around with his stll warm semen was a decadent, sensuous feeling. I felt his fingers sliding against my sex lips and they seemed to engorge again, just as if he was about to mount me. The cream, the teasing, it seemed to make my cunt lips swell three or four fold, so that they stood proud of my curling pussy hair petulant and feminine. 

‘Are you going to read Peter’s fortune for him?’ I asked as he massaged me down there. 

The question returned again and again. Just two months of sneaking around was getting too much. I wanted Marlon to confront Peter and to tell him that the rules had changed. If necesaary I wanted my husband booted out of the home. 

‘We’ll do it this way babe, ‘ and he applied another generous coating of the cream to my sex so that I felt I could fuck my way to the moon. ‘Tonight, when he gets home, its time to have him lick you out.’ 

I shuddered. Peter would know. He would guess immediately, tasting what I carried down there! I could never bring myself to wash once Marlon had takn me. So I was used to disguising matters with perfume. 

‘Get his nose down there babe, let him suck the scent up, and then have that sad little dude lick you luxurious.’  Marlon kissed me on my button nose. He kissed my lips. No perfume out of a bottle anymore, he whispered to me, I was to scent au naturel for my husband. 

‘There will be a row darling, he’ll realise. Please, I want you to tell him….’ i pleaded to Marlon. I had never been someone who welcomed confrontation. I was always the quiet and feminine peace maker. 

‘There wll be no row, ‘ he assured me with another kiss. ‘He’ll lap it up outta you babe like ambrosia from heaven.’ 

Marlon turned me over. It was time for my botty hole to be filled as well. 

I suppose that Peter got back from his mother’s around midnight. I was a long drive up to Carlisle and he always spent at least an hour with her. When he returned, tired from the traffic, he stared at me. He knew that i was going out that evening, but he hadn’t seen what I wore. Now he stared. I was dressed in a tiny, skin tight black cocktail dress with an outcut section that showed the curves of my breasts and my cleavage to perfection. Marlon told me to wear it. He told me to wear it and to act arrogant. 

‘Did she appreciate you going all that way?’ I asked rather testily. I know that i sounded like the spoilt bitch who begrudged any other woman his attention. I handed him a drink and watched the allure take hold. The dress, the petulant words, the smell of my body and what Marlon had done. To be frank the encounter terrified me. All I could imagine was Peter flyng into a rage because someone had fucked me. I quivered thinking about the violence that could follow. I watched Peter’s nostrils flare. He was sensing the change. 

‘I think so,’ he said in his usual kind and dutiful son mould. 

‘She should learn to make do with the telephone’ i said selfishly. 

There, Peter looked at me. He saw me afresh, the dress, the curve of my buttocks as I walked about.  I sat down on the sofa and crossing my legs gave Peter a sight of what stockings and suspenders could do to the male psyche. He stared at my legs, heard my arrogant demeanour. My husband was staring intently at me. 

‘You went out’ he said without quite asking a question. 

‘Yes’ I said noncommitently. 

Where, where, where?!? His head must have screamed the question! Who did you see, who were you with? 

Peter came and sat beside me. He kissed my faithless lips and blinked. 

‘I’m sorry I was so long away. Its a long and thank less trip.’ 

‘You’re not to go again, before Christmas’ i demanded, ‘tell her that you will speak to her on the phone instead.’ 

He kissed me. My petulence aroused him. I was being such a selfish little madam. He touched my leg and felt at last my stocking tops. 

‘you never wear stockings’ he whispered intrigued. Was there fear in his eyes, at least suspicion?

‘I wear what i want’ I said calmly. Another taunt, another change. Peter was so intent now. He felt a little higher, towards my sex, towards what had been so generously filled. 

Now there was suspicion in his eyes. I had been bored, I had been fed up, i had felt abandoned for the day. Peter was doing the maths. He kissed my neck and I let him. it was as if he was apologising but charged too with the arousal of desire. He wanted to kiss me hard. 

‘I won’t have her compete with me’ i said icily, and stroked his hair. My touch was encouraging him downwards. 

‘No….OK’ he whispered his eyes wide. I encouraged him down further still. He kissed my hand and then my tummy through the fabric of my expensive dress. 

‘I want you Claire’ he said. 

I judged him with my eyes. All I could think of was Marlon. 

‘Lick me’ i ordered. 

Peter hitched the hem of my dress up and I anticipated the conflict. I imagined him standing bolt upright and accusing me outright. Now, it was coming NOW! He edged my hem higher and there, my sex was naked before him. It was covered in Marlon’s sexy deposits and my sex lips looked huge. I looked down at Peter who had his face no more than a foot from my sex. 

His mouth fell open. His eyes darted up to my face and then down again. I saw his hands trmbling against my thighs. He breathed in and he breathed out. Twice more the breathes were taken. There, he was beaten. The spice had him. he had sucked it up with his first breathes and now my sex was an altar. I could barely credit it!! Marlon had said, Marlon had said it would be the hook. He didn’t have to be an instinctive cuck, I could easily enslave him this way. I just had to know what I wanted. I just had to know that I wanted to be with Marlon. 

‘Lick’ I said slowly, my eyes fixing his until they once more sunk to take in what I had done. 

My husband licked. He licked running his protruding tongue up my crease so that I could see the glutinous fluid slide back over the top of his tongue. I watched him swallow. He had ingested the potion too now. That was what Marlon had called it. A potion to take the sad fucker over the edge. 

Daintily I ran my fingers down and pilled open my ample sex lips to reveal the plug of Marlon’s semen occupying my hole. 

Peter was breathing faster now, almost hyperventilating, sucking down his addiction. When Marlon had said what the spice would do i thought it a faery tale. i laughed. He laughed too. Crazy huh?! It was impossible! Well,  it should have been impossible. 

‘Lick it out…show me it on your tongue’ I ordered. My nipples tingled. They had grown hard feeling my husband lick my sex. 

I watched him dip and ladle. I watched his dip down like a swallow capturing mayfly over the river. The feeling of his supplicant tongue on my sex was exquisite! He bobbed up and trembling with anger, trembling with so many mixed emotions and the racing addiction to spice he showed me it. Marlon’s spice infused semen was seated there. 

‘You may swallow’ i whispered and watched him descend into spice obsession. 

‘How does it feel?’ I asked curious, my voice mellifluous. 

‘You’re seeing someone’ Peter murmured. But he spoke as if in a trance. His eyes were glazed. 

‘yes’ I said softly. 

I watched his head drop. Spice there was aplenty in all that he tasted and inhaled, but shame was present too. 

‘Who?’ he asked meekly. 

I smiled. ‘he’s called Marlon….he’s a handsome black guy from work’. 

Peter nodded. Already there was the haunted look in his eyes. The look that said that he needed to get back to licking me until his head was totally filled with the stuff. Marlon had promised that it was this powerful. He warned that i had to have nerves of steel to manage Peter as we required. The addiction was very very powerful. I pushed a single finger against his forehead. He wanted, he needed to go down on me again!

‘Are you grateful Peter?’ I insisted. 

My husband was feeling a yearning that gnawed like a rat in a cage fixed about your testicles. 

‘yes!’ he said irritably, shaking his head. He seemed obsessed.  

‘Will you phone him and say thank you when i give you his number?’ I asked cruelly. 

Peter was struggling to breath now, he really did need aanother fix. 

‘Yes!’ Peter nodded for good measure. 

‘OK then’ I soothed and admitted him to what he craved. He swirled his tongue against me, his lips moving, moving. Slowly, deliciously, I climaxed. I climaxed hooking my legs around his neck so that his mouth could not get away. 

Two days later I met up with Marlon. Peter had rung him to say thank you for ‘dating me’. Poor man, he couldn’t bring himself to say ‘fucking’. I was still in awe of Marlon’s little pot of wonders. It got Peter past his first resistance and then to slide relentlessly down into my control. 

‘How often you got him suckling?’ Marlon wondered as we walked hand in hand towards the bar. 

‘he seems to need it twice a day’ I responded. 

‘Move him back to once a day. Make him buy you something smart that I might like’ Marlon smiled. 

I giggled. ‘You mean that rediculously short skirt we saw in that shop’ I said. ‘I won’t wear it for you!’ 

‘You will’ Marlon assured me. ‘You will!’ 

We ordered drinks. We talked a little about what next. it was a matter of increasing discipline. My husband learning to worshp his wife, learning to accept Marlon and of course to suck cock. It was easy, of course it was, to smear some more spice on Marlon’s erect prong, and if it had been some place warm and sticky and wriggling, well! 

‘He’ll beg you to have my kids’ said Marlon sipping down the cool lager. 

I stared at him wide eyed. 

‘Yeeah, he will’ he promised. 

I kissed him, open mouthed the bar man smiling. We kissed a moment with Marlon’s hand on my leg. 

‘You don’t realise how powerful this stuff is’ I murmured. 

Marlon smiled. 

‘You do?’ I queried. 

He kissed me once more. There was it seemed a revolution under way, all across the midlands. In Birmingham there were a whole load of women who were going black only. You know, he said, you know how and why. 

I did. 

Lutheran Maid

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