Copyright© 2015 by Dainii
Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Mister Gabe is our neighbor. He has taken over our lives in ways I didn't think possible. I am going to change that. Somehow.
Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Teenagers Consensual Romantic NonConsensual Reluctant Mind Control Drunk/Drugged BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Slut Wife Cuckold Incest Father Daughter BDSM DomSub MaleDom Interracial Black Male White Male White Female Oral Sex Exhibitionism
Hello. My name is Dave. It is Thursday, and I had just turned onto the street leading to the cul-de-sac on which my home is located. There are three "luxury" side-by-sides on the large cul-de-sac. Each has a large lot, with private, shared backyards which include a pool. It cost a pretty penny when we bought it a number of years ago – but then we can afford it, and we expected that it would be good for our kids. Things have been a little different than I expected.
I am now 40, or I will be in four days. My wife, Jen, is 38. We have three kids. We had our oldest, Sara, when Jen was 18, and our twins, Mike and Molly, two years later. Sara is now 20, going to the local university studying pre-law, and is married to Brock who works in his father's real estate development company. More on them later, but suffice to say that Sara and Brock live at our house, and plan to until our neighbor moves out of his side of the house. This weekend is the twins' birthday – the day after tomorrow actually. My birthday is Monday – two days after theirs.
I am a lawyer, work long hours, and I travel fairy often. I have managed to stay in shape though. I am 6' 1", and about 165 lbs, and still fairly firm all over. Jen is Vice-Principal at the local high school – the one that Sara went to, and that the twins go to now. Jen is a beauty, standing 5'3" in her stockings. Mousy blonde hair, hour glass figure with full 36's on the top half. Everything about her is gorgeous. She was the love of my life, and had been since high school – I've been questioning that lately, and you'll understand why soon. Sara looks like her mom, a little taller maybe, and her hair is still very blonde. Mike is about 6', and 185 lbs of rock hard teenage muscle. Molly is the only brunette in the family, and the tallest girl at about 5'8". She is also very athletic.
As I said, I am approaching our home after a hard day at the office and I realize that the car I am following is my wife's. It appears that someone is in the car with her. She pulls into our drive way, and I stop on the street just off of the driveway. As I get out of the car my eyes sweep the veranda of the "other" half of our home. I see that Mister Gabe is just getting up from a chair and walking to the rail, looking at my wife as she gets out of the car.
Mister Gabe. That is what we all call him Gabriel Black – although I refer to him as the black bastard more than anything else. He has been living in the other half of the house for the last two years.
Jen has stepped out of her car, and as she walks towards the front of the car she peers around at the neighbors' houses to see if there is any sign of life at them. Not surprisingly, given the time of day (people are still on their way home from work), there isn't. She is wearing her "business" clothes. A smart, but short skirt, with pleats that is made of a lighter material and I can see that the mild breeze of the day is moving it, and it certainly swishes enticingly as she moves about. On top I can see that she has a short, matching business jacket. Three buttons done up to just between her breasts. That, the single strand of pearls around her neck, the silver wristlet on her arm, and the anklet just above her left foot, and her spiky high heels make up her attire. I know that she is not wearing anything else. She never does, or at least she hasn't for the last two years.
I see that a gangly boy has emerged from the passenger seat of Jen's car, and Jen is waving him over to meet her in front of the car. He appears to be in his late teens and he looks to be nervous. A light bulb goes off in my head and I know what I am watching. Again. So I stay standing at the open door of my car so as to not interfere.
Jen had glanced up at Mister Gabe's veranda as she was gesturing for the boy to join her. When she saw Mister Gabe her face lit up in the most beautiful smile. That was the smile that only I used to get. The black bastard just grinned back at her as he stood at the rail, and waved at her to continue.
Jen returned her attention to the boy. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I knew the words. "Boy (or whatever his name was), today is your 18th birthday, and I, as your Vice Principle make it a point to give every one of my students a birthday present when he or she turns 18. You just lean here up against the front of my car and relax. You will enjoy it, I promise." My wife was very practiced in the giving of these 'gifts' as she has been doing them for almost two years now. There are two full years' worth of her students that have received her birthday gifts. With that, and a saucy grin for her student, Jen pushes the youth back against the hood of her car and proceeds to undo his belt. She unbuttons the front of his pants and pulls the zipper down.
I am momentarily distracted as anouther car enters the cul-de-sac and pulls in beside mine, behind Jen's car. I see that Sara is home. Jen had glanced up to also note Sara's arrival, and with a little wave of welcome to her, returns her concentration to the boy, grabbing both his pants and his shorts together and pulling them to his ankles, falling to her knees as she does. As I watch this, I hear Sara exit her car, pause for a moment and then walk over to join me leaning against my vehicle. As she approaches I hear her question me quietly, "birthday? I think I know him. A friend of Mike's."
I am distracted as I nod that she is correct, at least about the occasion. I didn't know the boy. Jen had finished pulling the boy's clothes to his ankles and she was now down on her knees in front of him. She smiled up at him as she reached out grasp his quickly hardening cock. Reading her lips, I could tell she said, "happy birthday", and with a couple of quick tugs on his cock, she leaned forward with her mouth open and took him inside.
Sara reached me, and pressed her body up against mine and proceeded to kiss me soundly. No, not your normal, "how are you dad?" kiss between father and daughter. She pushed her tongue between my lips and frenched me soundly. After a moment, she leaned away from me and peering into my eyes, asked, "did that help a bit daddy? I know that these things still bother you." I smiled lovingly at my daughter and glanced downward between us – at her very perky tits, with the nipples obviously also giving me a warm welcome through her very skin-tight lycra top, and lower at my cock, all hard and straining at my business suit. "You know that always helps sweetie."
She had distracted me. But now we both turned our attention back to her mother, my wife, and her student. Sara turned in my arms and ensured that my cock was securely nestled in the crack of her well-formed ass (barely concealed in the mini-shorts that she was wearing). She grasped my hands around her, and I could feel the diamond of her wedding rings on her finger as we watched the scene before us.
The boy was leaning back against the car, staring down at Jennifer as she was now driving her mouth back and forth on his young cock. We saw that Mister Gabe was descending from his veranda and striding over to the action on the driveway. As he got close to the couple, he caught the boy's eye.
Mister Gabe is an imposing figure of a man. Easily 6'6", and 260 lbs of muscle. He is a little older than me, in his mid forties, but he is obviously a much bigger and fitter example of the male beast. Not to say that I'm not in shape – I've been working out on a weekly basis for almost two years, and I was hard all over. It is just that I am physically smaller than the man. Also, he is coal black. Head to toe, and everything in between. Staring at the young man enjoying my wife's attentions, he said, "boy! Two things. One, you don't ever tell anyone about what is happening here. If I ever hear that you have, you will answer to me. And you don't want that. Do you understand?" The boy nodded immediately and I'm sure that I heard him squeak out an affirmative.
"Second, boy. You are not taking full advantage of your birthday present." With that Mister Gabe leaned down over my wife and undid the buttons of her suit jacket and pulled the two sides apart, revealing Jen's beautiful tits to her very appreciative student. I could see the sun flash off of the tiny pendant attached to Jennifer's right nipple. The boy's eyes bugged out even more than they were already.
I could feel Sara reach behind herself to brush the back of her hand up and down my straining cock. At the same time, I turned my hand to gently grasp her breast, and started to softly kneed it. I could feel the stud in her left nipple – the pendant that I had put there - and tugged at it gently. She twisted her head around and gave me anouther peck on the lips, then said, "I'm not wearing it today. I can't with this shirt." She groaned softly as I tugged on the stud, "I love you daddy."
I nodded, knowing that the pendant that would normally be hanging from that stud would stand out too much with this shirt, and murmured back "I love you too sweetie."
She continued, "Mom loves you too daddy."
"Hmmm," was my only response.
"I am sure" she said, "do you still love her?"
"I don't know. It has been a long time, with a lot of bad water under the bridge" I reply, and we turn our attention back to my wife.
Mister Gabe was still instructing the student, "pay attention boy. When you have a slut on her knees in front of you, you must take a hold of her, and let her know that being on her knees is, in fact, her proper place." With that, Mister Gabe reached down to demonstrate. He took one of Jen's tits in each hand and squeezed them. He let his fingers slide out to her nipples, with had hardened out to their fully extended inch long length. He took a firm grasp of each nipple and, getting a grip on the studs in them, pulled at the nipples, twisting at the same time, hard. My wife was literally pulled a few inches off of her knees. All the while she maintained that boys cock in her mouth – her cheeks billowing in and out as she suctioned on him. "Now you do it, boy", said Mister Gabe as he released Jen's tits. Mister Gabe for the first time acknowledged our presence with a nod and then returned his attention to Jen's student, who was paying close attention to his instruction. The boy reached down to grab my wife's tits, and cruelly squeezed them, twisting them as hard as he could as he squeezed. Mister Gabe then fisted my wife's hair and thrust her face onto the boy's cock, "like this boy". The boy intently released one tit, grabbed my wife's hair and pulled her onto his cock. He was obviously a quick study.
It didn't take long. I'm sure he would have cum quickly just from the shock of seeing his Vice-Principle on her knees blowing him, but with her tits bare, and the added instruction from Mister Gabe, and then the practical experience, he just couldn't hold it any longer. Both Sara and I could see him tense up, and with a final pull on Jen's hair pinning her to him, he emptied his balls into her eager mouth. A few seconds more of sucking and he was obviously cleaned out.
Sara groaned in front of me, and I realized that I now had both of her tits in my hands and I was aggressively pulling on her nipples through her shirt, gripping the studs in both nipples. As the scene climaxed in front of us, we abruptly stopped what we were doing and dropped our hands from each other. Sara took a half step away from me.
Jen climbed to her feet and Mister Gabe wrapped her in his arms, giving her a squeeze and then started to walk with her towards us. Mister Gabe pointed at Sara and barked, "you, take the boy home. Now!" Sara jumped at the command and practically ran to Jen's student and dragged him towards her car while he struggled to put his clothing back together.
In a moment, Sara and boy were gone. Mister Gabe was standing before me with an arm draped over Jen's shoulder and one of his huge hands resting idly on her still very exposed melons – one large finger idly flipping the pendant with his name on it. Quietly he said to Jen, "you need to greet this man Jennifer." She looked up at him lovingly, and then tentatively smiled at me. She leaned forward to give me a peck on the lips – the sort of "in public, this is my husband, kind of greeting kiss that I have been receiving from my wife for two years. As Jennifer opened her mouth to say "hello", Mister Gabe softly added, "no Jen, greet him properly. He has been a good man for you for many years."
Jen glanced quickly up at Mister Gabe with a confused look, but then turned to me and opened her arms. She leaned in and gave me the kind of hug that I had been deprived of for so long. She stretched up and planted her lips on mine ... and she kissed me. The kind of kiss that I haven't had for so long. Mister Gabe continued, "Jennifer, I will be giving you back to him on Monday, after we celebrate the twin's birthday. I will have MP's wife make the arrangements for the ceremony." With that he grasped one of my hands, which were hanging limply at my side since Sara departed, and placed it firmly onto my wife's breast. We, Jen and I, both gasped. Other than the cursory public offerings, I haven't been able to touch her in two years. Then he just turned and walked back to his side of the house without anouther word. I was pretty sure that I had dreamt those words.
As Mister Gabe climbed the steps to his porch, and then stepped into his house, my wife and I looked at each other. I couldn't help but wonder at the meaning of his words. Jennifer coming back to me?
She whispered, "what does he mean? Why would he do this!? Did you know about this?"
I slowly shook my head and responded, "no. I don't know and it's the first I've heard of it." I paused, and then suddenly bowing to the urge, I leaned into her and pressed my lips against hers. She tensed, and briefly pushed against my arms – her natural reflex reaction. But only for a moment, and as she relaxed, she returned the kiss. The slightly salty taste of the boy so recently in her mouth remained, but I wasn't passing on this opportunity because of that. I deepened the kiss, pushing my tongue into her mouth. Again, a little hesitation, following by acceptance ... and was there just a hint of eagerness?
We both heard anouther vehicle pull into the cul-de-sac behind us, causing us to break the kiss. Jen quickly moved to re-button her suit top while I peered around and gave a little wave to our neighbor, Simon, as, returning from his work day, he pulled into his driveway.
I still held Jen loosely in my arms as she completed buttoning up. Finished, she looked up at me. I couldn't help but stare at her, stare into her eyes, and as I did, for the first time in a very long time, I felt something stir in me that hadn't been there ... what was it? Hope? Hope that this nightmare was soon to be over, and that perhaps in that brief tightening of her grip on my arms there was still something between us that we both wanted to hold on to. Or ... maybe just anticipation that it was over, and time to finalize that as a fact?
I turned Jen towards our door, and after quickly reaching into the car for my briefcase, I lightly draped my arm over her shoulder and walked with her towards our house.
The house. Not really our "home", or at least for me it had lost the bigger feeling that "home" implies. I could clearly recall the excitement that Jennifer and I had had when we made the decision to move out of the house that I had inherited from my folks. My parent's house had always been tainted for me. Yes, the inheritance of the house gave us a free place to live while we were raising our young family, just as the life insurance had allowed both Jen and I to continue our education at a time when, fresh out of high school, we had a child and each other to support. But, all of that came at the expense of me losing my parents. Neither of us were able to disassociate the tragedy of their loss at the hands of a drunk driver from the house. So, about three years ago – right after I made partner at my old firm, and Jennifer went from school teacher to school administrator – we found ourselves with a good income, and the ability to really get what we want. The equity from selling my folk's place really helped with our decisions, and did preserve some link back to what they did for us.
Jennifer and I spent days with realtors looking at the market. Our dream included a pool, and a yard with some privacy, but given our hectic personal working lives, we really didn't want to be bound to all of the yard work that goes with a house. It seemed that we would have to "give" on something. Either buy a house to get the yard and pool, and suck up the yard maintenance, or go into a condo but lose the private yard. Or so it seemed. Jen had a student whose father was a property developer. At a parent-teacher conference, after they agreed that the student was doing exceptionally well, they spent time talking about our difficulties in finding what we want. He told Jen that we should come by his office because he was in the process of finishing up a unique strata development that we might like. He said that all but two of the units were sold, so come quickly.
We did. It was fantastic. Three side-by-side McMansions on a private cul-de-sac. Each side-by-side had a shared, but otherwise private backyard complete with pool and hot tub area. The beauty was that the entire cul-de-sac was a strata development, meaning that all maintenance, inside and out, including the pools, were managed by the strata association. All the owner had to do was to call the development manager, and the maintenance would happen.
The houses themselves were sizeable, each having a large open foyer at the front door which opened one direction into a large open plan kitchen with breakfast nook looking through large glass doors to the pool area. The other direction from the foyer led either to a large'ish library, and then a great room, or upstairs to the second level. Off of the great room – which faced the street – were double doors opening on to a covered veranda which could also be reached from the foyer. The second story contained five bedrooms and three baths. Three of the bedrooms were standard bedroom size and shared one of the bathrooms, with the fourth designed as a guest suite with a separate sitting room and ensuite bathroom. It also had a small balcony overlooking the pool. The master suite, with its own balcony over the pool, was palatial with room for our dreamed of huge four post bed, a sitting room and a walk-in dressing room complete with room for a couch and a wall of mirrors to dress in front of. The ensuite had a soaker jet tub and a glassed in shower big enough to party in. The dressing room/ensuite shared the wall with the other side of the house to almost eliminate noises from the other house emanating into the bedroom. Literally, it was more than we had ever dreamed of.
All of the buildings were sold except for one. The developer was hoping to retain one half for a while to eventually gift to his son when he completed college and joined his firm, but that was going to be at least four years yet, so he was planning to rent it out if he could find someone appropriate. The side he showed us was the last that he was going to sell. It was complete through lock-up, awaiting only an owner's decisions on interior finish. Jennifer and I jumped all over ourselves in our rush to take ownership of the one half of the remaining building. Two and half years ago, we took ownership. It was everything we had hoped. It was going to be "home".
Jennifer and I separated at the door with me briefly clinging to her hand as she started up the stairs. She looked at me with a tenuous smile, and turned away, climbing the stairs. I dropped my briefcase inside the door and headed into my library/office, slumping down into the couch that I had there. This was the one room that I felt totally comfortable in, as it was the only place in the house (other than the twins' rooms) that I could be absolutely certain was unmarked by Mister Gabe.
I leaned over to the mini-bar in the library and pulled out a bottle of Becks, popped the top, took a healthy swig and flopped back into the couch. I closed my eyes and let the tension of the day start to ease out of me. Watching Jennifer do that boy in the driveway was not something that I would ever get used to.
How had we ever got to this place? How had this nightmare ever seen the light of day?
Jennifer and I met when she was fourteen and I was sixteen. She was a bright student who had trouble in math. I was a whiz at math. My math teacher asked if I would tutor her in the subject. While I agreed, it was with some trepidation. Jen was still taller than I (I was a slow grower), and her face was angelic. Combine that with the fact that her body was already the stuff of a teenager's wet dreams, and sure I was nervous. I mean how was I going to be able to talk with her, let alone teach her math? But I bucked up and gave it a go.
The first time I went over to her place after school was an eye opener. While my family was obviously loving and fun loving, with at times a wicked sense of humour, Jen's seemed to be just about the polar opposite. Her dad was a strict disciplinarian, and her mother seemed to be a mouse in the way she followed his every direction. Don't get me wrong, they were nice people and I certainly got along with them, it was just that it took some getting used to the fact that her dad spoke and everybody jumped. I had trouble believing Jennifer came from that atmosphere given the comfortable, happy face she put on for everyone at school. And I should say that she wasn't "unhappy" at home – it was just that she seemed to freely give over her free will to her father when she walked in that door. Odd, to me, but I was still getting the opportunity to be with her, so, you know, I lived with it. Over time, I more than lived with it, it became natural to turn over control of things to her dad whenever we walked into that house. I don't know why, but it was obviously what Jen wanted. I wanted Jen, so I let it happen to me as well.
Jen was (is) smart. It didn't take her long to pick up what I was trying to teach her. The oddly wonderful thing though was how our tutoring sessions very quickly evolved into real friendship. It got to the point that by the end of that year I was always with her. She always seemed "up" for my suggestions about doing things together. Coincidentally, I grew. In the space of one year I added six inches and my frame started to fill out. It was great. Our first kiss came on her door step as I dropped her off after a movie. The porch light came on and the door opened to her father standing there. Jen stepped back from my embrace and her hand went to cover her mouth – her eyes wide as she stared at her father. He looked from her, to me, and back to her, "kissing is allowed. Nothing more. Not until you are 18 Jennifer." He looked at me again, "understood son?" I nodded. Jen assured her dad that she understood. And that was that.
I was eighteen and preparing to go to college. Jen was in tears and wailing that she would die without me ... who would look after her? While I wasn't bawling at the time, I have to admit that my feelings were exactly the same. Our friendship had become love. This beautiful creature had complete control over my heart and soul. We decided together that I would not go out of city to college, and that she would continue to be my one and only love. I think that was the first time that we actually said the word. But, immature as we were, I am also sure that we both truly meant it.
For the next two years, I went to college working on pre-law, and Jen finished high school. Believe it or not, even though there was a lot of typical teenage heavy petting, I never even got her shirt off. Not once. I tried a few times, in the heat of passionate kissing, but after a few aborted attempts Jennifer sat me up straight and looked me in the eyes to say that her father had told her that she was not going to be a harlot, and not going to bring home a brat while she was still in school, and that I had been there when he had told us that kissing was ok, but nothing else. So she was not to allow things to get out of hand. Jen took pains to let me know that her parents really liked me (as mine did her), but her father had set the rules and she simply couldn't ignore them. Wait until she was eighteen.
She did. We did. Which meant, because I took my word seriously and had no interest in messing around on my Jennifer, that I was a virgin at twenty. It was worth the wait, believe me.
For her eighteenth birthday, I took her out to the fanciest place I could afford. She was beautiful, dressed in a light, flowery summer dress that reached to about mid-thigh and exposed just enough of the upper slopes of her magnificent breasts to tease. Her hair was up, and she had a gold necklace on with a tiny pearl pendant that hung artfully in the valley of her breasts. She self-consciously ordered a glass of merlot and with a little grin said that she was now eighteen and her father said that until I said different, she was now responsible for her own rules, so it was ok to drink some wine. It didn't hit me at the time, but I realized later that she had just offered to hand her father's control over to me.
We ate, and drank some, and we danced. Honestly, other than knowing that we did those things, I really don't remember any of it. I was immersed in Jennifer and everything else simply passed me by. We got into my beat up old Toyota and drove back to my folks' place. They were out for the evening – like they had planned on leaving the house to me that night. Dad was like that. So, he took mom out for the night because he knew that I was going to want some special "alone" time with Jennifer.
We went downstairs into the rec room where I dimmed the lights and put on some music – I was partial to the Eagles. I grabbed anouther bottle of wine from my dad's wine cellar and was in the process of opening it when I felt Jennifer's hand softly grasp mine. She pulled me into her arms, and proceeded to lay the most passionate kiss on me that I had ever experienced. Her tongue was deep in my mouth at the same time that her hands were roaming my arms, my shoulders, my chest, my hair. She broke the kiss and taking my hand, she quietly said that we didn't need any more wine right now and led me up through the house to my bedroom. She left me standing by my bed and reached behind her neck to unhook her dress. The few seconds that it took for that dress to slowly drift down her body and pool at her feet lasted hours. First her bra appeared. It was a lacy, light weight, light blue number that accented rather than really doing anything to hold her breasts. Then, her matching panties were unveiled. Not a thong certainly, but also not the granny panties that I might have expected – having never really seen them before. She looked gorgeous standing there in her lacy lingerie. With my bedside light on behind her, I could see the soft glow of the fine hairs on her arms as she stood there. She reached up and undid her hair, and with a slight shake of her head let it fall around her shoulders. In the space of two or three heartbeats my Jen had transformed from the picture perfect girl next door that I had been dating and loving for four years, into a sultry vixen that I wanted to take, and take now!
I was entranced.
Jennifer reached between her breasts for what was obviously a front-clasped bra, and she paused looking at me. "Would you like to," she purred? Did I? Duh. I'm sure I was staggering like a drunk, but she was giggling, and that helped to calm me. "What would your dad say about the rules now, my sweet?" I playfully asked her as I brushed my fingertips across the exposed slopes of her breasts. Again she giggled and then whispered "you make the rules now my love". I paused briefly looking deeply into her eyes and moved my hands to her face, clasping her, and bringing her lips to mine.
There in my bedroom in my parent's house, on her 18th birthday, Jennifer gave me her virginity and took mine. Our souls entwined, never to part.
Our lives changed that night. I took Jennifer home in the wee hours of the morning. Her dad did not meet us at the door like he had every other time for the last four years. She just kissed me softly on the lips and let herself in.
My parents never did come home. In the morning I was woken by a policeman knocking on the door. He carefully explained that a drunk driver had broadsided my folks' car, and that they had both died in the accident. Just like that. At twenty I was an adult, and inherited everything. The house, the insurance, and everything else. I was set to do anything I wanted with my life, I would just have to do it without my folks. Not a trade that I'd recommend to anyone. If I hadn't had Jennifer, and the support that her family gave me, I'm not sure that I would have made it. But I did, or I should say, we did.
Jennifer always had a mischievous streak to her. She'd get a glint in her eye and I knew that something off the wall was coming my way. After her birthday that glint started to mean new and interesting things. It was only about a month after her birthday, and with my folk's passing we hadn't continued our carnal relationship. My mind just wasn't in that space.
Jen wanted to visit her grandparents who lived about four hours away in the foothills. She determined that I would drive her and we would stay at their place for the weekend. I recall that it was a nice warm day, broken clouds in an otherwise sunny sky. Perfect driving conditions for my Toyota which could be a suspect highway driving car at times. About half way there we were climbing out of a valley when Jen pointed out a park nestled along the creek that flowed through the valley. There were a few cars spaced amoungst the trees, and you could see people playing in the water. We pulled into the park and Jen told me to drive over to the less occupied side and park. We could have a picnic lunch she said. I should have suspected something when she said this as she was staring right at me with a glint in her eye. The glint.
I parked the car. From my side you could see the other people there, down by the creek. Jen's side was in the shade of a large old oak tree. I climbed out but Jennifer seemed to be having some trouble. She told me to come around and help her. I stretched and then walked around the back of the car. Jen's door was open and she was sitting sideways with her legs out of the car. Two steps and I was standing in front of her, and my mouth fell open. Jen was in the process of lifting her t-shirt over her head, exposing her beautiful breasts to the world. Ok, really only to me, but still... "Close your mouth big boy, and come in closer," she grinned at me. With that she leaned forward and grasped me by the belt and pulled me between her spread legs. Quickly she undid my belt, and my pants button and pulled my zipper down. "Jennifer" I groaned as she yanked my pants and shorts to my knees. My cock was rapidly expanding. She leaned in and licked the head, locked her eyes on mine and took me in her mouth. Immediately my knees started to shake and I had to grasp the top of the car to hold myself up. I could see a couple sitting not fifty feet from where I was getting my first blow job. I groaned again, and I guess I wasn't too quiet about it as the lady's head turned to look in my direction. I smiled at her and she returned it, turning back to her own man.
Jen pushed me back, away from the car, and while maintaining her lip lock on my cock, she struggled out of her shorts and panties. In a few seconds she was naked, kneeling at my feet and I was having great difficulty standing straight. I tangled my fingers in her head to gain some balance. That felt good. No, it felt great! Jen had no more experience at giving head than I had at receiving it, but she was giving it her all – her cheeks billowing in and out as she vacuumed me. I could feel her tongue swirling around my cock inside her mouth. She broke her grip on my cock for a moment, and panted, "harder, Dave, do it harder!" I realized that I had been pulling her mouth onto my cock, face fucking her, and she wanted me to do it! So I did. Staring down at her, with both hands I grasped swathes of her hair and pulled her forcefully onto my cock, pushing into her at the same time with as much force as I could. I could hear her choking and I started to let off, but she moved her hands to my naked butt and pulled me into her again. Drool was running from her mouth and nose, and I could see tears streaming from her eyes as she tried to maintain some sort of eye contact. It was too much. With a last lunge, I pushed my eight inches past her tonsils and into her throat, and burst into a river of cum straight into her stomach. My legs gave out and as I started to collapse I could see two things: as my cock came out of her throat, still cumming, I could see cum spurting from Jen's nose, and as my eyes left her face I glimpsed the lady's eyes staring at me, wide in shock. She had seen the whole thing!
I was on my ass in the grass. Jen was crying and laughing, and grabbing her t-shirt to wipe some of the mess off of her face and tits. I could hear the couple moving to a place farther down the creek bank, away from us. I was still panting, and my eyes were wide open staring at Jennifer. Holy shit! My girl next door could really get out of hand, in semi-public no less.
Jen, still wiping at my cum, looked at me and laughed, "did you like your picnic? I loved mine."
We could hear some folks coming our way and panicked a bit, grabbing at our clothes and diving in the car. I ran around to my side holding my pants up and as soon as I was in, turned the key and spun out heading for the highway. We got dirty looks from just about everybody there except the lady who had been watching us. I swear that she gave Jen a thumb's up as we passed her.
A few seconds later we were back on the highway. Jen had her t-shirt on, all blotchy with my cum, but had left her shorts off. "We're going to have to stop again soon so that we can continue that Dave. I liked it. Did you" she smiled? Duh. We did stop again. A few times. We fucked and sucked each other all the way to grandma's house.
I had to watch for that gleam in her eye.
The next few months, as summer faded to fall, and then into winter, were basically more of the same. We'd screw everywhere we could, as often as we could. Jen seemed to enjoy the risks of being caught, and she certainly seemed to enjoy it more when I was telling her what to do.
Once, we were with a bunch of friends at one of their parent's cottage by the lake. We had finished lunch with everybody at the cottage, and headed down to the dock ahead of everybody else. Jen was in a bikini – the first I'd ever seen her in, previously she had stuck to more conservative one piece suits because, as she said, that was what her father told her was acceptable. Well, I certainly "accepted" her new look – it was not the smallest bikini in the world, but it certainly displayed all of the right parts in a way "acceptable" to me. And I guess that was the point. Anyway, she grabbed my hand as we headed past the boathouse and out onto the dock. She pulled me to the front of the boathouse which had a short platform over the lake that the dock was linked to. In front of the boathouse we could hear everyone at the cottage getting ready to join us, but they couldn't actually see us. Jennifer yanked my bathing suit to my ankles, dropped to her knees and swallowed me in one gulp. I grabbed her hair and as my cock hardened in her mouth I pulled her forcefully on to it, "here, bitch, swallow this!" I had never called her that before, it just dropped out of my mouth. She froze for a second and looked up at me. Jen let my cock drop from her lips and hoarsely whispered, "yes Dave, I'm your bitch. Now and always!" With that she drove herself back on to my cock.
We could hear the rest of the crowd descending to the dock, and they were getting close. I disengaged from my love and knelt in front of her, still holding her hair. I looked into her eyes and told her, "get into the water and swim to the end of the dock. I'll join you there, but by the time I reach you, you better have those bottoms off and your legs spread for me!" With that I pushed her backwards off of the platform, into the water and dove in over her head.
Under water I pulled my swim trunks up, but left my cock and balls hanging lose above the waistband. I rose to the surface to see our friends jumping into the water all around us. Looking around I could see Jen stroking her way to the end of the dock a good forty feet away.
I started that way but could also see Paul, the friend whose family owned the cottage, already swimming after my girl. Jen made it to the end of the dock and clung to it with one hand while the other was obviously busy under the water. I slowed my approach as I saw Paul grab the dock next to Jennifer. He was hanging in the water looking at her and she at him. Jen later told me that Paul asked her what she was doing, and was she ok. She told him that Dave had told her to come here, and take her bottoms off. From my vantage, as I slowly stroked my way towards them, I could see the priceless expression on Paul's face, and the very embarrassed one on Jen's as she handed him her bikini bottoms. I was close enough now to hear her ask him to hold them for her. I could see the glint in her eyes. She wasn't that embarrassed.
Paul was gaping like a guppy as he took the bottoms from her. He glanced around quickly, but I'm sure he didn't see me in the crowd of splashing people. He transferred the bikini bottoms to the hand also holding onto the dock and with his free hand he leaned in and was obviously running his hand up Jen's leg. I could see her eyes widen as she stared into his eyes. He had just proven to himself that she was indeed without bottoms, and probably that she was in the process of spreading her legs – as instructed.
Jen put her hand on Paul's shoulder and gently pushed at him. "Kissing is ok. Nothing more, Paul." With that she leaned into him and kissed him. First it was rather chaste, but that lasted only for a second and I could see them start to exchange tongues.
Now I moved quickly to join them. "Paul, what are you doing with my girl? Jen, what is happening here?" Trying to sound a little angry, although, strangely, I really wasn't. She was doing what I told her to do. Sort of. She was stretching things a bit.
Paul broke the kiss and let go of the dock. "Sorry man, got carried away." He thrust her bikini bottoms into my hand and dove under the water and away from us.
Jen simply looked at me, and then glanced down into the water at her spread legs. Her one hand was working away at her pussy. "I told him kissing was ok, but nothing more. But I was a bit too late, and he was already touching me." She looked up into my eyes, with that glint in hers, and with a saucy grin, "are you mad Dave? See, I'm spread just the way you want."
"Good girl Jennifer," I smiled back at her, as I reached for her, "just remember. This is my cunt, bitch. This is my pussy." I thrust two fingers past her hand deep into her. Even under water she was very wet inside. She groaned with pleasure. I moved between her legs, and grabbing both her hands between mine, pinned them above her head to the dock, I held her in place as I rammed my cock into her in one motion. No pause for her to get used to it. She was ready. She groaned again, "call me your bitch, love. Use my cunt. My pussy is yours."
The crowd was making the water boil, they were playing with the exuberance of youth. I'm sure that some noticed us, but they were good friends. Even Paul kept his distance. The only people who couldn't see us there at the end of the dock were Paul's folks. I rammed Jen into that dock over and over. She cried, and groaned, and even screamed, but it was well covered by the noise around us. As I finished inside her I'm sure that I heard a few catcalls, and some splashy applause. Jen's faced was bright red.
It was fantastic.
I don't know if it was on her 18th, or on the way to grandma's house, or any of the other times, but we found out that Sara was going to join us soon. We didn't hesitate as there was no doubt in either of our minds. Jennifer and I were married, and Sara was born in the spring, before Jenn's 19th birthday. We moved into my folks', now my, house. With the money from my inheritance, neither of us needed to work yet. I continued in school, going from pre-law to law school. Jen, with the help of her mother who babysat Sara for us, went on to school in search of her education degree. Two years later the twins came along in the late summer. I graduated and joined a firm downtown. Jennifer graduated and started teaching high school. After a couple of years, she went back and got her mba before rejoining the school.
Things were absolutely fantastic.
Our kids grew. I never consciously thought about it, but at home I made the rules, such as they were. I definitely leaned more towards my dad's outlook on things as opposed to Jen's father's approach. But it was still there. If I told Jen to do something, she did it no questions asked. Sara and the twins grew up with a similar understanding though not as obviously submissive as Jen.
Jen and I never lost our love for each other, and even though finding the time for making love was at times difficult, we did make the time. Rarely, but sometimes I told my bitch to spread her cunt lips for me. She did. Didn't matter where we were, or who was around, she just did it. Always, always, always with a glint in her eye.
I tilted the bottle of Becks up and took a swallow, and the beer was gone. Yes, Jennifer and I had had a good time while raising our kids. Some wild times, but not too many. That is the nature of having kids. I looked at the empty bottle in my hand, shrugged to myself, and setting it down on the floor beside my feet and once again I leaned over to the mini-bar and extracted anouther bottle. Becks is good beer. If I had some Smithwicks it would be better, but I was having difficulty finding a place that sold that stuff – other than at Mahoney's Bar down on the waterfront.
I could hear footsteps from the floor above me. Given the relative position of rooms on the second floor, that meant that my wife was in the dressing room above me. Otherwise the house was silent.
Then I heard the soft but distinctive sound of the door opening in the closet. You could only hear that from here when the rest of the house was as quiet as it is now which was rare, with so many others living in the house. The "door". The one that Mister Gabe had built that connected his dressing room to ours. I frowned at the thought, and swigging at the beer again, I leaned back into my couch.
Mister Gabe. My mind started to spiral down the same path it had taken many, many times in the last couple of years. What the fuck kind of hold did Mister Gabe have on Jen? Oh I know that initially it was whatever he put in the wine that he served, but that had stopped a long time ago. And what the fuck did he mean when he said that he was giving her back? Did I even want her back now? Everything was in place to just finish it off as I had been planning to happen after the kids turned eighteen. Did I really want to go through with it?
Why was my wife still in thrall to the black bastard? In mid gulp a new thought came to me. An epiphany of sorts. One that for the life of me, I should have had ages ago.
The scene at Paul's folk's cottage was still fresh in my mind's eye. I had told Jen to do something, and she had done it ... even to the point of allowing virtually all of her friends see her being fucked in the water at the end of the dock.
Fact: Jen was predisposed to listening to instructions, commands, from those that she viewed as "power" people in her life. In fact her father had trained her that way, and her mother had reinforced the idea that it was natural for the woman to obey.
Fact: She did not draw any lines around what types of commands or "rules" to follow. Public fucking-on-command at Paul's cottage was a good example of that. And there were other times like that when I ordered something, and she simply did it.
Fact: That willingness or need to obey could have positive consequences. Our sex lives had never been dull.
"Need to obey," I murmured to myself around anouther swallow of beer. "hmmm. Need?" That is the key, I thought. I sat up straight, the bottle frozen in place at my lips as the line of thinking took hold. Need. Jennifer had been raised to need to obey, need to listen to the rules. When she turned 18 she transferred ownership of the rule making from her father to me.
Unfortunate Fact: Unlike her father, I just don't have a need to dominate someone, so while we played at it from time to time, it was just play. It wasn't my "go to" natural state. Sure, I made some "rules" for around the house – basically for the kids, and they were the standard father-type rules like "if you are at a party and everybody is drunk, call me and I'll come get you". Did her need require something, or "someone" to fill the vacuum that I didn't fill?
I finished the swallow, and sagging back into the couch again, I looked at the ceiling separating me from my wife who I presumed had gone through that door into Mister Gabe's. Thinking hard, I could recall at least a couple of instances where my new theory may have already been proven before Mister Gabe showed up.
The kids were what?, 8 or 10 years old, or something around that age. Jennifer's mom had come over to babysit as Jen and I went to a party at my friend's house. Grant and his new girlfriend Lydia had just moved into a basement suite downtown and were having a house-warming party. I was close to Grant, having gone to college with him, and we were just getting to know Lydia. Jennifer looked ravishing I recall. After the kids she had spent considerable time in the gym and jogging around the park near our house in an effort to regain/retain her perfect body. Her tummy was flat. Her legs and ass were tight. Her breasts were actually a bit bigger and hadn't sagged at all even with the fact that she had breasted fed Sara, Mike and Molly. Jen was wearing a short'ish, light weight apple green skirt – about mid-thigh – with a pink thong underneath. Up top she had a matching bra over which she wore a loose, button up peasant shirt - the kind with the blousy sleeves. I remember that she left enough buttons undone so as to give everybody a good view of the tops of her breasts, and with the blouse belt holding things together at her waist, whenever she bent over the view could be quite a bit more. As I said, she looked ravishing. I was more simply attired in shorts and a golf shirt.
We arrived at the party and parked in the lot just outside Grant's living room window. From the inside of Grants basement suite you could get a fantastic view of the undercarriage of all the vehicles owned by the residents of the block. Their "view" became a standing joke for as long as they lived there. Inside, the small suite was already crowded, with people everywhere. Jen and I knew some of them well, but most we either just recognized as acquaintances that we'd seen with Grant before, and a few we assumed were friends of Lydia's because we didn't recognize them at all.
The booze was flowing, and the music rocking ... loud. We had heard it from outside as we parked the car. Jen and I stuck to each other for a while, but then found ourselves split by the masses. Eventually a small'ish area was cleared in the living room, with the furniture pushed up against the walls, or down the hallway, to make room for some dancing. As the sun set outside, and the booze took hold of everyone, the party really started thumping. We danced with each other, and we danced with anybody else that wanted to. As the booze flowed, the dancing became raunchier and the touching just a little bit more daring. Grant throws a good party, and everyone was having a good time. Jen spread herself around, dancing with a bunch of different folks – both girls and guys.
There was this one guy, and for the life of me I simply cannot ever remember his name. He reminded me of Kenny Linseman of the Philly Flyers. Ok, Linseman played for other teams too, but I remember him as a Flyer. Anyway, Linseman's nickname was "the Rat". This guy reminded me of "the Rat", so to me that label stuck, and he has always been the Rat. I did notice that as the night wore on, Jennifer seemed to be spending more dance time with the Rat then with others. I noted his hands on her hips as they moved to the faster songs, and that he pulled her in pretty tight during the slow ones. Jen certainly didn't seem to mind.
It was getting on to about midnight and I was coming out of the bathroom – after having waited an excessive amount of time in line to return the beer that I had been renting all evening – and at the end of the hallway near Grant's bedroom door – about 10 feet from me – I could see the Rat casually pinning someone up to the wall simply by leaning into her. I was about to turn away when I heard Jennifer giggle, and I saw her shaking her head as she leaned up to speak into his ear. Given the volume of noise I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I could see the Rat's response. He stood up straight, leaning in over Jen (the Rat was about my size, although thinner, so he was about half a foot over Jen). He raised his hand pointing his finger in her face and shaking it under her nose as he spoke forcefully. This I heard, "you do as you are told my little pet."
The drunken grin on Jen's face froze for a moment, and I could actually see her physically accept what the Rat was saying before I heard her response. Her shoulders slightly sagged, and her hands, held clenched between them before, relaxed as she placed her open palms on his chest. "yes sir." That was it.
I don't know why, but I stepped back into the bathroom, earning a bit of a dirty look from the drunk leaning against the wall outside the door awaiting his turn. I closed the door, and held it for a few heartbeats, and then pulled it open again, stepping out. I could see Jen going into Grant's bedroom, and the Rat was already past the bathroom door heading back into the main party in the living room. I let the drunk past me to occupy the can, and I took a step towards the bedroom and then paused, waiting. Not more than a minute passed and Jennifer stepped out the bedroom and saw me waiting.
She took a skip towards me, her face alight with a gorgeous smile, and almost fell into me as she lost her balance. Jen was a little bit more than just tipsy. I held her under the arms as she regained her balance and could immediately feel her breasts swinging free inside her peasant shirt. Looking down I first noted that she had tugged more of the shirt above the beltline, and undone a couple of the buttons. The result was that more of her lovely upper carriage was on display. Giggling, Jen held up her hand displaying the bra that was no longer inside her shirt, "see, I decided to take it off. Now I don't know what to do with it." laugh.
"You decided to take it off", I inquired, "why"? Not that I was unhappy with the fact, just that given the scene that I had just witnessed, I wanted to hear her answer.
"Because it is hot here with all of these people, and all of the dancing. Because I know that you like seeing me like this, with my tits flopping around," and she bounced on her toes to make them bob up and down. "Because I wanted to," she replied. She put on a patently insincere pout that quickly turned into her radiant smile, "don't you like me like this?" And with that she placed her bra into my hand, planted a quick kiss on my cheek, and left for the kitchen stating, "take care of that, will you?" over her shoulder as she left.
I looked at it dumbly for a second, and then simply tossed it into Grant's bedroom. Let him think about that when he finds it later. The alcohol that I had consumed, and the scene that I had just witnessed combined to leave me in a bit of a fog. But I knew, without a doubt, that Jen's bra was now on the floor in Grant's bedroom because the Rat had told her to take it off. Huh? Have to see where this leads to, I thought.
I slowly headed into the living room, grabbing anouther beer as I went, and continued to party.
About an hour later, during which I had done my level best to keep at least one eye on my wife, and the other on the Rat, the party was slowing. All except Grant and Lydia, the Rat and his wife (whose name I also cannot recall), one other couple, and Jen and I had departed. Mostly in taxi's given that there weren't many surviving designated drivers. The eight of us were comfortably ensconced in the living room. We were all very toasted by booze and feeling absolutely no pain. The Rat looked at Grant and raised his eyebrows in a question. Grant looked at him cross-eyed and shrugged as if to say, why not?
The Rat got up and disappeared into the back of the suite for a minute. When he returned he had a couple of twists of wacky with him that he proceeded to light up after he had sat down again. The first one he took a hit from and then bypassing his own wife, he passed it to his right – to the other couple, and then on to me. The second he passed to Grant, who after a big toke, passed it to his girlfriend, who with a little shake of her head, immediately passed it to my wife. She looked at the Rat, who nodded slowly at her, then at me and with a huge grin on her face proceeded to suck on that doobie like, ... like it was my cock. She slowly let the smoke go, and then quickly passed the joint back to Grant, and sank back into her chair.
We all mellowed for a while, and then Lydia smacked Grant on the knee and said "I'm going to get some more snacks and some coffee out here for you wasted losers." It didn't seem to concern her that Grant fell squarely into the wasted category. As she was getting up, the other couple both rose and he said that their cab was outside and it was time for them to leave. The host was too toasted to get up, so Lydia showed them to the door. We all watched them through the window as the climbed into their cab and were gone. As soon as the cab took off, Lydia looked at us and with a little grimace and a shake of her head, she left for the kitchen.
The Rat nudged Grant and nodded with his chin towards Jen. Grant looked at the Rat for a moment, shrugged and then shifted over in the couch to be closer to Jen. He leaned over towards her and placed his hand on her thigh just above the knee.
I'm going to blame it on the state that I was in, but all I did was sit there and watch.
Grant shook Jennifer's leg to get her attention. He wasn't getting it though as she was very much in a fugue state from the smoke. The Rat elbowed Grant again and murmured something that I didn't catch, causing Grant to lean further over and push his hand up Jen's thigh, under her skirt. You could tell he had reached an important goal because her eyes focused in upon him. She giggled, but that was it. I could tell that his hand wasn't idle under there. Grant said, "now Jennifer, I think you should go and get us all anouther beer. Yes?" She slowly nodded her head while at the same time squirming her butt around on the chair, and I'm guessing, on his hand.
Grant lurched back into the couch, pulling his hand back as he did. I swear that I could see moisture on two of his fingers before I lost sight of them. Had the bastard actually had his fingers in my wife's cunt?
Jen arose on shaky legs, and left for the kitchen. Shortly thereafter we could hear the two women laughing about something. Through it all, the Rat's wife had just set like a lump beside him on the couch watching Grant finger my wife.
After a bit Jennifer came back. She quickly handed me a brew, and pulled back when I tried to lay a hand on her. "I have to finish serving, mister," she scolded me. Then with a beer in either hand she turned and bent slightly to hand one to the Rat.
"No, Jennifer. Not like that," he admonished her in a slightly scolding manner – like you would talk to a toddler. "Bend over from the hip. Keep your legs straight." As she complied, "that is better, pet. Now lean over so that I don't have to reach for the bottle." Just like that my wife was bent over the Rat. Her shirt was hanging down in front of her and with the buttons that were undone, I'm sure he could see right down her shirt to her breasts. Probably even see her nipples. He placed a hand on the beer that Jen was handing him, but his hand was on top of hers so that she could not let go. "Wait a moment, pet," he commanded. Then with his other hand he casually reached up and unhurriedly undid two more buttons. As he withdrew his hand I could clearly see my wife's fully exposed tits.
The Rat's wife seemed to sigh a bit, but that was it as she sat there watching her husband put his hand inside Jen's blouse and caress her breast, ending with a squeeze of her nipple. Jen gave a sharp intake of breath but her eyes never left the Rat's, and she didn't do anything to stop him. But then, neither did I.
He let go her nipple and gave it a quick flick with the end of his finger, "very nice, pet. Now serve our host."
My wife slowly stood up, not bothering with the fact that her breasts were still open to the world. She then proceeded to lean over Grant, who was now leering at her in a slightly comical fashion. Grant ignored the proffered beer, and with both hands undid the last two buttons on Jennifer's blouse that were above the belt, and folded the fabric of the front of her shirt back over her shoulders. Jen didn't move. Grant then took a tit in each hand and twisted them and tugged them. Jennifer's only reaction was to groan. In her position, Grants tugging was pulling her into him. She compensated by placing a knee alongside his leg on the couch and her free hand onto his shoulder. Grant pulled her in a little tighter and then leaned in to lick both tits. As he did her left nipple Grant looked at me sideways. Both the Rat and his wife also looked at me – he with a little sneer on his face, and she with a little grin. My boner was obvious to all of them, but I didn't do anything but stare. This continued for a moment until we could all hear Lydia returning from the kitchen. Grant gave each of Jennifer's breasts a swat and then pulled her blouse closed over them and pushed her upright again. He took his beer and, still with the leer, said, "thanks, pet."
Lydia returned, and while she was setting the munchies down on the table Jen excused herself to the bathroom. When she came back she had her shirt put back together, and that was that for the evening. After some food, and anouther beer, Jen and I, both very under the weather, grabbed a cab home. When we talked about the party the next day, I, of course, asked her about the Rat, and what went on. Her only reply, if I recall correctly, was that she was drunk and stoned, and it just seemed "right" to do as she was told. She also said that she could see that I seemed to be enjoying things. We left it as that – a harmless "drunk" thing.
Why did I leave it at that? Back to the present, I took anouther swig of my beer and noticed that a car was pulling into the drive outside of the house. Sara was home after dropping "the boy" off wherever. I continued looking out the window, but I wasn't really paying attention as my thoughts took me to the only other occasion that we had run into the Rat.
Four years ago Grant and Lydia decided to get married. They had their wedding in an old hotel downtown. The hotel was a "landmark" kind of place, with a castle-like look. Twelve floors, with each of the top three floors progressively smaller so that from the street it looked like the top of a castle. Each of the top three floors had a public access walk-way around the outside that you could access from the ballrooms, or guest rooms, bordered by parapets for sight-seeing. Difficult to describe. You just have to know the place. It is a cool place.
Anyway, we were invited to their wedding, as was the Rat and his wife (and a bunch of other folks of course). Normal stuff. Vows. Churchy stuff. Then on to the celebration party, which was held on the ninth floor – the first level with the outside walkway.
At some point during the dancing I was sitting at a table with Grant and a few other guys tilting a few back. I looked around the dance floor to see if I could see my wife. Lo and behold, she was out there in the middle, in the Rat's arms. Across the other side of the dance floor I could see his wife sitting there watching them as well.
He held her pretty tightly, and as I watched I could see one of his hands drift down from her waist to her butt, giving it an obvious squeeze. Jen was wearing a body hugging black dress with a deep v neck that connected to straps over the shoulder connecting right a butt level in the back. She couldn't wear a bra in that dress and given how tight it was, she had to wear a thong on the bottom. Nice cleavage, and all of her back was exposed. Did I say that she looked hot?
I put down my beer and strolled over to the Rat's wife thinking that if he could fondle my wife, I could at least dance with his. As I walked past them on the dance floor, Jennifer gave me a little smile and then turned her face back to the Rat, nodding. I lost sight of them as I took the Rat's wife's hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. As we circled I noticed the Rat standing to one side and Jen nowhere to be seen. After a moment I could see her returning from the ladies room. She went directly to the Rat, who looked at her, and then pointed at me.
Jen came over to me and I paused the waltz that I was doing with the Rat's wife. Jen gave me a shaky smile and held out her hand to me, palm down, obviously holding something. I tilted my head at her in question and held out my hand into which she placed her thong. WTF! I let go of the Rat's wife, who I had been still holding with my other hand and leaned into Jen, "what the hell is going on?" I demanded. She just smiled a small smile up at me and whispered, "he told me to take them off and give them to you. He is waiting to dance some more with me. Can I go?"
Again I was dumbstruck by this woman in front of me. But I could also feel my cock starting to harden in my pants. I looked up at the Rat to see that he was grinning broadly at me. His wife took my hands again and pulling me in close to her, said, "let her go Dave." Jen leaned in to me to plant a chaste kiss on my lips and said, "I have to go Dave. I love you." And with that she turned back to the Rat. His wife pulled me back into the dance grinding her pelvis into my semi, and in my numb state I simply turned into the waltz with her.
A few minutes later I was again looking around for Jen. I could see neither her nor the Rat and stopped dancing as I took a more purposeful look around the dance floor. I turned back to the Rat's wife and demanded, "do you see them?"
She sighed, and said "no, they left a little bit ago."
"Where," I demanded again?
She took my hands and pulled me in close, placing one of my hands on her hip, and holding the other pressed the back of my hand into her breast, "he took her to our room." Maintaining contact at the hip, she slowly ground her pelvis into my semi-woody, and said, "he is probably pulling her dress off right now."
I stopped all movement and stared at her. "What the fuck!" Without thinking I stepped back from her and ran out of the ballroom. I don't know what I was thinking other than "fuck, fuck, fuck!" I ran to the elevator and stopped. I didn't know where I was going, so I turned and ran back to the ballroom to pry the info from the Rat's wife. She wasn't there. I ran around the ballroom with, I'm sure, a panicked look on my face, searching for her, but couldn't find her. So I went back to the elevator and up to the next floor. I spent the next hour moving from floor to floor and on the 10th and 11th floors pacing around the outside walkway trying to hear or see something that would give me a clue as to where my wife was, or to find the Rat's wife. My mind was racing. I could just picture my wife, walking down a corridor in this hotel with the Rat beside her. He had his hand on her ass. As they got to a door he turned her and pushed her back up to the door. Forcefully he opened her top and pulled both of her tits out into view. With one hand he cruelly twisted one nipple and with the other he pulled her by the hair, pressing his lips to hers and driving his tongue into her mouth. I could see her legs weaken as he let go of her hair and used his now free hand to reach below the hem of her dress to find her cunt, dripping wet. He drove his fingers deep into my wife with one push. She moaned around his mouth as his fingers started to move in her. Suddenly there was a noise from farther down the hallway and both my wife and the Rat looked to see a middle age man striding towards them from a room further down the hall. The Rat let go of my wife's tit, and leaving them both on display, fumbled for his room key card. By the time he was ready to insert it into the card reader, the man was standing before them – eyeing Jen up and down as she stood there on weak legs; her tits hanging out, one of the them bright red from the recent abuse; her dress bunched up above the Rat's hand as he continued to move his fingers inside her. "Nice," was all he said as the Rat opened the door and pushed my wife inside his room. I could see her fall to her knees. I could see the Rat open his pants and haul out his cock. I could see him grab my wife's head by two fistfuls of her hair. I could see her wedding rings on the hand she used to brace herself against his thigh. I could see her look up at him and open her mouth to him. I just couldn't stop the visual images racing around my mind, and I couldn't stop the fact that my cock was so hard that it actually throbbed as I made my circuits of the hotel.
After an hour I found myself leaning against the parapet on the 9th floor, outside of the wedding ballroom, staring vacantly down at the city. My mind had long since gone numb.
I heard a step behind me, and then felt a hand on my waist, turning me away from the view. "Don't jump my love," came out of Jen's mouth as I turned to find her standing close. Her hair was slightly mussed, but otherwise she looked unchanged. She smiled up at me and leaned in to give me kiss. It started chastely, but I placed my hands on her head and pulled her tightly, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. I remember tasting scope mouthwash. Jen returned the passionate kiss every bit as hungrily as I was offering.
Finally I leaned back from her. "Where were you," I demanded in a hoarse voice.
She looked up at me smiling softly and said, "I went for a walk".
"For a fucking hour?" I couldn't contain myself, my jealousy and worry coming out in my demand. "You were with him," I accused.
"Yes," she replied, still maintaining eye contact with me. She moved in to press her body to mine and whispered, "he told me to follow him. I did."
"What did you do? You were fucking him weren't you?"
Slowly shaking her head side to side, as if saying no, she replied, "he said not to tell you. He said that you would prefer to be guessing." She pressed her lower body into mine, and we both discovered that I was as hard as a rock. "I think he was right," she said as a slow grin spread across her face.
"Tell me what the fuck you were doing!" I shifted my hands from her head to her shoulders and gave her a little shake to emphasize my demand.
Still shaking her head she simply said, "no. I can't." She reached up to hold my head in her hands, drawing me down to her. She kissed me slowly on the lips and then whispered, "I love you, and only you David. That will always be true."
Jen never did tell me what happened that night. We left the wedding right then and there, and I never saw the Rat or his wife again. I'm pretty sure the Jennifer didn't either, although I have always wondered about that. No amount of pressing on my part afterward ever budged Jen into telling me about that night. Over time the jealousy and doubt waned. Oddly though, every time I thought about Grant's wedding night, I got hard ... wondering.
I looked at the bottle that I was holding. It was empty again. I don't know why it had never crystalized like this for me before. Maybe it was Mister Gabe's declaration about Jennifer coming back to me soon that had finally kick started my understanding. Jennifer "needed" to be commanded, and once commanded she "needed" to do as she had been told. Mister Gabe had been doing the "telling" for the last two years because I hadn't stepped up to the role that had to be filled in my wife's life, and ... And because I had let it happen.
I could clearly remember the first time that I had heard his name. It was early summer, just before the end of the school year. I had been away from town on a business trip for my old firm. Just before I had left on the trip, Sara had announced to us that she was engaged, and wanted to be married in the next few months ... She didn't want to wait. That blew us away, although she and her boyfriend had been inseparable through-out high school and we shouldn't have been surprised. Her boyfriend, Brock, was the son of the guy that had developed our neighborhood and built our house. In fact, his father was holding the other side of our house to give to his son once he graduated university – which was still a few years away since he was just graduating high school in a few days. Sara, who had turned eighteen a month earlier, reminded both of us that her mom was only 18 when she got married to me, and we were a screaming success in the marriage department. She was in love. Brock was in love, and certainly had good prospects. There was no room for argument. In fact, neither Jennifer nor I were really dismayed about the prospect, as we both liked Brock and his family. Anyway that news had rocked us a bit, and we had found ourselves talking about it every night while I was away, during my regular, evening "call home".
Then, one night, I remember that it was a Wednesday, Jennifer was even more excited about something than Sara's recent marital announcement had made her. Jen told me that someone was finally moving into the other side of our house! Early that day she had seen a sleek black limo pull up, out of which came a lady. The lady appeared to be about our age, with long black hair and very pale skin. She was wearing a dark suit – skirt and jacket. She had a "severe" look with her hair pulled back tightly from her face, but the effect was to look very professional. The lady had met a gentleman that Jen knew worked for Brock's father, and they both disappeared into the other side of the house.
Awhile later Jennifer had been going out to the back yard to relax by the pool (no school that week). She was wearing a relatively modest two piece bathing suit and carrying her towel, sun screen and a book. As she was arranging herself on a lounger she heard the door to the other side open and then the clicking of heels on the flagstones approaching her. Jen paused in what she was doing to see the severe looking lady march up to her and stop, staring down at my wife on the lounger. "You are," the lady queried?
Stammering just a bit, my wife had replied with her name, and asked who she was talking to. "The concierge," was the reply. "I am preparing this residence for Mister Gabe's arrival," she stated matter-of-factly. "You may call me "C", or whatever Mister Gabe instructs you." All the while, the lady, "C", was frankly appraising my wife, her eyes travelling slowly up and down my wife's body.
Jen was initially a little nervous and then simply put off by "C"s appraisal and manner. "What are you doing here," she had demanded.
Ignoring the question, "C" had stated, "inside will require some work, which I will have done immediately. Outside is adequate." Her eyes left Jen and travelled around the backyard, taking in the pool, the eight foot high privacy fence (even though with the large yards, and the fact that we were backed onto a woodland, there was little need for the fence we thought), the flagstone patio, the hot tub, the assortment of "deck" furniture and the couches arranged around the firepit, the grill and the outdoor bar. Returning her eyes to my wife, she had simply stated, "stand".
Jennifer told me that she found herself standing, self-consciously, in front of the imposing women. She found that even in her heels "C" was still shorter than my wife. "C" told her to step into the middle of the patio and hold herself erect. Apparently she used that term – "stand erect". My wife did as she was told and the lady slowly circled her, asking questions about my wife, her family (me and the kids), what we did, how old we were, what kind of shape we were in, etc. Jennifer told me that she had found herself answering all of the questions as they were posed to her. Finally "C" had stopped directly in front of Jen, standing very close. Close enough that the lapels of "C"s suit were brushing against Jennifer's breasts, encased as they were by her swimsuit top. "Generally, I am satisfied," "C" had stated quietly, "and I believe that you will do as well." As she abruptly turned away, "C" had declared, "workmen will be here this afternoon and tomorrow remodelling the interior. Furniture and effects will be delivered Friday. Stay out of their way. I will return on Saturday to complete things and Mister Gabe will be here Monday. Be available, with your children and husband on Monday evening to meet him. I will gather you Monday evening and instruct you further." And with that "C" disappeared back into the other side of the house, the door shut, and she was gone.
Jen was breathless in recounting the episode to me, and I could tell she was excited. It was more than mere excitement at the time of the interrogation as Jennifer admitted breathlessly to me that when "C" was standing breast-to-breast with her at the end of the interview, Jen's nipples were as hard as marbles and clearly evident to "C"s appraisal. I was intrigued by the fact that my wife had been so obliging to the lady's instructions and found the lady's name for herself – the "concierge" or simply "C" – to be amusing and pretentious. Jennifer tried to explain that she found herself simply unable to "not" do as "C" told her. We laughed it off and I teasingly reminded her that "kissing was okay" if she was that interested in "C", to which she shushed me good naturedly, and we both let it go.
That was the end of the day's story and we went on to other things. My trip would keep me away through the weekend and in to the middle of the next week and I told my wife that. The length of the trip was somewhat unexpected, but the clients' business came first, and that was how long it was going to take. Unfortunately, it meant that I wouldn't be "making myself available" on Monday to meet the mysterious Mister Gabe.
Friday night's conversation was interesting as well. Apparently the workman next door had their supplies and construction material delivered to the front driveway. Mike and Molly had been watching from inside and Mike simply couldn't help himself – being the curious teenager that he was. He went outside and started poking around the construction materials. Coming back in he told the rest of the family that it was mostly normal stuff – wood, nails, etc. -, but that it did contain some odd stuff. There were sheets of thick cork laminate. Sara speculated that perhaps he was re-flooring part of the house, but Mike said the sheets were at least 4 inches thick, so couldn't be flooring. Mike also said that there were boxes of large stainless steel hooks, a couple of beams at least eight feet long, and a wire mesh contraption that they couldn't figure out. Jennifer told me that the family spent most of the rest of the day speculating on what the new neighbor could possibly be doing.
On Monday I called home at the normal time – around 8pm – and no one answered the phone. This had happened before from time to time, so I wasn't in the least concerned. However, when I called back at 9 and then again at 10, still with no answer, my concern spiked. I had been using the house phone, so after the third no answer I called Jen's cell, and then Sara's cell, both no answers. Finally, Mike picked up on his cell phone. This is what he told me.
He said that the entire family had stuck around the house for most of the weekend to observe the goings on next door. They had watched delivery truck after delivery truck pull up, first with all sorts of furniture and affects and then with food and drink supplies. All were unloaded while "C" stood on the veranda observing and barking directions. In addition to the furniture being moved into the other side of the house, a very large divan/couch/bed'ish contraption was taken around back and placed under the roofed-over portion of the patio. When his mom went out to ask "C" what that was about apparently the answer was something like, "Mister Gabe needs to be comfortable for all of his activities, wherever he decides to do them ... as you will no doubt find out." Finally, on Sunday anouther truck had pulled up off of which was unloaded more furniture. These were odd, according to Mike, in that they included what looked like padded sawhorses, a post with hooks on it, and a number of large wooden chests.
Today – Monday – Mike and Molly had rushed home from school together and found their mom and Sara waiting for them. They had a quickie supper – veggies and dip, some crackers and sliced meat. Their mom told them that "C" had stopped by as soon as she got home from work to tell her that they should eat "lightly". Shortly afterward Brock pulled into the drive. As if they had been observed, as soon as they all gathered in the kitchen, the door to the patio pulled open and in walked "C" as if she owned the place. "Stand in a line," she barked at them. She proceeded to pace up and down in front of my family who stood as told, quietly awaiting instructions. "Mister Gabe has been told of you," she began, "and he is interested in meeting you tonight. You and you," pointing at Molly and Mike, "need to put on some more presentable clothing. Go to your rooms and change into something nice," she commanded. "Go now."
Mike said that he and Molly headed for the stairs to change. They passed Jen and Sara on the way up the stairs as they returned. "C" was waiting for them in the kitchen. "You are both sixteen, correct?" she asked. She nodded as they did. "Fine, Mister Gabe will meet with you when he gets here, and then you will depart the residence." She reached into the breast pocket of her suit and withdrew a wad of cash, and counted out $100 for each of the kids and gave it to them. "Enjoy yourself, on Mister Gabe. Consider this a "hello neighbor" gift – his words, not mine," "C" emphasized. "Go out and enjoy yourselves, but be home by 11pm as you both have school tomorrow. I have cleared this with your mother." Brock was still in the kitchen, sitting now as he awaited Sara's return, and he nodded that Jen had in fact agreed to this.
Shortly Mike's mother and sister rejoined them in the kitchen. Mike said that Sara was looking hot in a tight black tube top and florescent orange skirt. "Mom looked pretty ok too," he said.
It was about 7p.m. when "C" excused herself and said she would return immediately. A couple of minutes later the patio door opened again, and in strode a giant of a black man, wearing black dress pants over jodhpurs, and a gleaming white button-up dress shirt. No tie or jacket, but his sleeves had large gold cufflinks with embedded onyx stones gleaming in them. He paused at the doorway looking at all of my family. "C" entered quietly behind him and stood stiffly in the doorway.
He moved towards Molly and taking her hand, raised it to his lips and gently kissed it murmuring, "good evening Molly. I am Gabriel Black. It is a pleasure to meet you." He then asked her a few questions about school, her friends and life.
Mike had been standing protectively close to his sister while this gentle interrogation was going on, and he was next. The black man released Molly's hand and he stepped sideways to offer his hand to Mike. Mike glanced at it and then shook it. Mike said the hand was dry and the handshake firm and friendly. "Mike" the giant said with a smile that revealed even, and brilliantly white teeth, "I am Gabriel Black. I see that your father is not here, so you must be the man of the family at the moment."
Mike blurted, with typical teenage male bravado, "Why does she (pointing at "C") call you Mister Gabe?, and what kind of name is "C"?"
Mister Gabe grinned and explained, "as I said, my name is Gabriel. My friends call me Gabe. I have tried to insist that Cynthia," and he pointed at "C", "is a friend, but she cannot seem to stoop to that and insists that she refer to me as "Mister". Hence, for her, "Mister Gabe". Michael I hope that we can become friends as well as neighbors, so please call me Gabe." He paused, and Mike nodded to him. Continuing, he said, "Cynthia is my personal assistant, and organizes my sometimes complicated life for me. Without her I would be adrift and far at sea. She considers that role to be akin to a concierge at a good establishment, and takes pride in the title. Therefore I do not dissuade her from calling herself my concierge. However, being a man," and he winked at Mike, "concierge is a cumbersome thing to call someone so I have taken to calling her simply "C" ... which she has also adopted with some pride."
Mike nodded his understanding. "Now Mike, may I call you Mike?" Mister Gabe queried. With a further nod from Mike, "I understand that you and Molly have things to do. I am going to acquaint myself with your older sister, her fiancé, and your mother. We will be imbibing adult beverages and discussing adult topics, none of which will interest either of you. It is time for you to depart. Have a good evening."
With that, Mike said, he and Molly rushed to the door and left, joining their friends for an evening out – all on Mister Gabe.
It was shortly after 10 and he and his sister weren't planning on being home until just before 11. He told me not to worry. Mister Gabe was a cool guy, and his mom and sister were with Brock, and probably just having a good time on the patio. I hung up the phone somewhat relieved by my conversation with my son. The new neighbor seemed interesting. I was actually looking forward to meeting him. I got ready for bed and then lay down with the lights off in the hotel room. I must have dozed off, because it was close to midnight when I was startled awake by the sound of my phone.
Jennifer's voice came over the phone, and even in my slightly fogged state I could tell that she sounded ... sultry. It was thick, and alluring, and sexy, "David my darling" she said to me. "I am so sorry that I wasn't able to answer the phone earlier. We were busy meeting our new neighbor."
"Tell me about it," I asked, as I gathered my wits, "and what's up with your voice? You sound ... odd."
Jen giggled throatily at me for a moment, and then started talking about her evening.
First she talked about when "C" came over early in the evening. "C" instructed everyone on where they were to stand, how they were to stand, and the order in which Mister Gabe would greet them – first the younger kids, then Brock, then Sara and finally Jennifer. "C" went on to tell them "how" to talk with Mister Gabe – respectful and polite, but to make sure that they were attentive to every word as Mister Gabe did not repeat himself and would quickly get angry if ignored in any instruction. Jen said that she could see Mike rolling his eyes through most of this and she was slightly worried about how he would deal with the new neighbor.
"C" ended her instruction session by sending the kids away to "dress better", and telling Brock that what he was wearing – a golf shirt and slacks – was going to be acceptable. She then turned to Sara and Jen and spent a moment appraising them. She said that Mister Gabe was particularly interested in meeting the two of them – and glaring at Jen she said, "since you disobeyed a direct instruction to have your husband present, do not be surprised if Mister Gabe decides you need to be chastised." Jen became very worried about that! Finally, "C" stepped back from the two of them and declared, "you both need to change. You are to wear light, comfortable clothing. Either it is to be skin tight, or loose and blousy. Buttons on the top are preferred, but not required. Skirts are also preferred. You are not to wear underwear – and I know from our previous discussion that neither of you are on your period, so this topic is not up for debate!"
My wife described Sara as looking stunned. "I can't believe she said that. What did you do? Why didn't you just throw her out?" I asked her.
"Nothing. She was just so much in command ... so demanding ... that I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I just listened and nodded every time she said something," was my wife's response. Jen's voice had taken on a little-girl quality to it, and I couldn't interrupt.
"C" finished her instructions, "Mister Gabe is not a man to be trifled with. He tells you to do something, and you do it!" Brock apparently had started to protest the dress code when "C" had swung around to stride over to him, ending nose tip to nose tip, "you, mister, will not interfere. Your father may own this building, but while Mister Gabe resides here, it and all of its contents, including you, are his!"
Jen grabbed Sara's arm and pushed/pulled her to the stairway to go to their rooms to change.
My wife described how she pushed Sara towards her room at the top of the stairs and then rushed into her dressing room pulling the suit jacket that she had left on after work off as she ran. She said that she didn't really consider "not" following her instructions. She peeled out of her blouse and skirt and pushed her panties to her feet and then turned to look at herself in the wall-size mirror in the room. She saw a middle-age woman who still looked very good. Full breasts high on her chest with only a slight sag that suggested experience rather than age. Her stomach was flat and firm, as were her legs. Her pussy was obscured by a thick thatch of blondish hair. She turned to observe that her ass was also tight, and while not the bubble butt that Sara had as an eighteen year old, was still damn good looking. As she spoke to me, I could imagine her self-appraisal in the mirror and found myself growing hard while I lay on the hotel bed listening to her description.
Jen said that she grabbed her favorite sun dress off of a hanger. It was a floral pattern with a skirt that flounced around her mid-thigh. It was pulled in by elastic bands sewn into the waist to emphasize her womanly hips. Above the waist it was more or less an apron that buttoned up the front with spaghetti straps over the shoulder that crisscrossed down the back to rejoin the skirt above her ass. It was a light, white material with small, multi-coloured butterflies on it. I knew the dress well. She could not wear a bra under it. "Did you wear panties Jen?," I asked, "or did you follow "C"'s orders?"
I could hear my wife draw a deep and somewhat ragged breath, "I did what I was told." She didn't ask me how I felt about it. I couldn't state my displeasure and found the fact that I was now stroking myself in bed to be somewhat confusing. Shouldn't I be yelling at her, or demanding an explanation?
She said she met Sara at the top of the stairs and repeated Mike's description of Sara, including the "hot" comment. My wife called her daughter "hot". Mentally I had to agree, and while I didn't often think of Sara in those terms, there had been times while out at the pool and looking at Sara and her friends in their bikinis to think of her in those very un-fatherly terms.
They went down to the kitchen and waited with the kids and Brock for the grand arrival.
Jen echoed Mike's description of Mister Gabe's arrival, and his greetings with Mike and Molly, followed by their departure for an evening with their friends.
After they left, Mister Gabe turned to look at my wife, appraising her slowly, head to toe and back, obviously pausing at her breasts and then smiling slightly as he looked her in the eye. Jen couldn't hold the gaze, averting her eyes to Brock for a moment. Mister Gabe then turned his eyes to my daughter, Sara. Again he slowly took in her petite figure, staring for a long time at her breasts, and nodding slightly, again with the small smile.
""C" didn't ask this question, so I will," he softly spoke to Sara, "are you still a virgin?" Sara's eyes widened suddenly, and her hand flew to cover her mouth. Turning abruptly to face Brock, "have you fucked her, boy?" he demanded harshly.
Brock was obviously still disturbed by the lecture he had received from "C", and the sudden unexpected question shocked him further. He stood with his hands clenched at his sides and a glare on his face as he stared silently at the huge black man. Mister Gabe strode to Brock, stopping inches from him. He was towering over Brock and glared down at him, "so you think that beautiful young thing is yours? You have fucked her, haven't you? You've drilled your hard cock into that sweet cunt already." Brock's expression was answer enough for everyone in the room. "Well, let us deal with that immediately, shall we?" Mister Gabe murmured in a menacing tone. "She is not yours until her father gives you to her. In his absence I tell you that you are not to fuck her again until that happens. I will enforce that rule. Do you understand?"
Brock regained his voice, "who the fuck do you think you are you bast...", and Mister Gabe grabbed him by the shirt collar and with one hand lifted him off of the floor.
"Your daddy may be the man I am renting this house from, boy, but while I am here I own everything in it. That means that I have responsibility for setting and enforcing the rules. A prime rule is that a man's daughter is not to be fucked until that man consciously gives her hand over to someone else. In Sara's father's absence, I am enforcing that rule." Mister Gabe swiftly slapped Brock twice across the face with his open hand, and then let him go. Brock stumbled to regain his balance and stepped back from the towering black man.
"Do ... you ... understand?" Mister Gabe demanded.
Sara unfroze from the spot she had been rooted in while watching the scene unfold, and rushed towards Brock. Mister Gabe stopped her by placing his huge left hand around her throat and tightening just enough to exert control. Still staring at Brock he awaited his answer.
Slowly Brock nodded his head as, in the face of the dominating personality in front of him, the fire visibly left his eyes and body. He bowed his head slightly and nodded again more firmly, "yes Sir. I understand."
Mister Gabe visage changed swiftly to a small but sincere looking grin. "That's better son. Now let me elaborate a bit." He removed his hand from Sara's throat and drew her body into his. "You do have some freedoms with my permission. Let me demonstrate." With that Mister Gabe bent down and pressed his lips to Sara's, parting her lips with his tongue and driving his tongue deep into her mouth. Sara struggled briefly, but could not move in his firm grip. After a moment she started to move her tongue against the black man's that was raping her mouth so effectively. Brock could see Sara's body change in the moment that she accepted Mister Gabe's probing, going from tense to soft and pliant in a second.
Mister Gabe terminated the deep kiss and stood erect, twisting Sara so that she was standing in front of him, facing Brock but with her back pressed tightly to Mister Gabe's body. "This, as well, is acceptable." With that soft statement, there in front of her fiancé, and her mother, Mister Gabe moved his left hand up from her waist to her breasts and the right hand down to the front of her tight shorts. Everybody's eyes were one the left hand as it firmly grasped Sara's left tit and began to lightly kneed it through her tube top. In a second, Mister Gabe had pulled the top below her tit and grasped her puckered nipple, pulling it away from her body causing Sara to gasp. At the same time, his right hand had quickly undone the button to her shorts and drove below her waistline. In the same second that it took for her breast to become exposed he had her shorts below the level of her pussy, and was spreading her cunt lips with his fingers.
Brock's eyes darted from Sara's tit to her cunt, and back again. He was flushed and holding his breath. Jen was holding both of her hands in front of her face and seemed frozen in the act of stepping in to stop the mauling of her daughter. In fact, "C" had stepped up behind my wife and was firmly holding her in place, one arm around her waist, and the other snaked under Jen's arm with her hand under the apron-top of my wife's sundress, holding her by the left tit. She was squeezing Jennifer's tit hard to keep her still.
"This," and Mister Gabe roughly shook Sara's tit, "you can play with. This," as he drove his index finger into Sara's cunt, causing her to moan loudly, "you cannot."
With that he abruptly released Sara. She fell forward into Brock's arms. As she clung to her man, Mister Gabe raised his finger to his mouth and sucked Sara's juices from it, smiling as he did. "Very nice," he murmured softly, and continued, "you do understand the rules Brock? Good. You are both dismissed for the evening. I will talk with you more at anouther time." He waived them towards the doorway.
Brock half carried and half led Sara to the stairs, and then up to her room on the second floor.
I could barely contain my rage as my wife told this tale, "what the fuck! Why didn't you stop the bastard?" I yelled at her through the phone.
There was silence on the other end, broken only by Jennifer's heavy breathing. I could tell that she was gathering herself. Then, in a very small voice, "I couldn't. Dave, I just couldn't. Like he said, he was making the rules for Brock and Sara only because you weren't there. There was nothing I could do," and then I heard her sob, and my rage turned to heartache.
"Jen, love, I am sorry I wasn't there. Is Sara ok?"
"Yes. Yes she is. I just finished talking with her ... after Mister Gabe left a little while ago. Sara and Brock talked about the rules, and they agreed that there was to be no more ... fucking. No more fucking until you gave Brock permission. She ... they are ok. I asked her how she felt about what Mister Gabe actually did to her and she would only say that it left her breathless. She is ok."
"Fine. I'll talk to that bastard myself when I get home this weekend. What happened after Sara and Brock left?"
Jen then continued with her story about the night, and it seemed pretty benign considering Sara's encounter with our new black neighbor. Mister Gabe had watched Brock and Sara depart and then turned slowly to face my wife. "Release her," he instructed "C". "C" dropped her hands from my wife and stepped back to the patio entrance. Holding his hand towards my wife, Mister Gabe simply stated, "it was unfortunate that David had not already set that situation straight. It had to be done. Now that it is, I would like to get to know you better Jennifer."
Flushed, my wife took his hand and he led her out to the patio. She observed "C" cross the patio in front of them to stand in the darkness near the entry to Mister Gabe's side of the property. There was a fire crackling in the fire pit, and a bottle of wine with two glasses sitting on the table. Drawing my wife towards the couch before the fire, he indicated that she was to sit. "I understand that you 'like' all types of good wine, but prefer the Pinot Blanc?" he asked her. She nodded her head as she sank into the couch.
He poured two glasses, offered her one, and then sat down right beside her with his body facing towards her, his one leg drawn comfortably into the space on the couch between them. Reaching forward he lightly tapped his glass to hers and softly spoke, "well met Mrs. Dane. I trust that we can enjoy my time here in this house." He took a sip and motioned with his hand for Jennifer to do the same. When she had, he held his glass slightly aloft and Jen was startled to see "C" there, taking it from him. "C" also reached down and gently took Jen's glass from her, turning to put both on the table nearby, and then once again merging back into the shadows.
Mister Gabe said, "I took a liberty earlier that I should not have." Jen presumed he was referring to the way he handled Sara, but he was not. "I called you by your first name, Mrs. Dane, and I should not have made the presumption." A soft breath, "may I call you Jennifer?"
My wife gave her permission.
I asked her what happened after that. After a noticeable pause and long drawn intake of breath, Jen answered, "we talked. That is all. He told me about himself, and I answered all of his questions. He already seemed to know a lot about us." My voice was raspy as I demanded more details.
"He is a very rich man. Originally a chemist, he invented something or other that helps psychologists treat their patients. Now he says that he is on sabbatical while he writes a book. He says that he is also working in a lab near town, and will be staying for a while." She paused, and her voice became softer, "he said he was very pleased to meet me and our family. He was holding my hands while we talked, and he said that he was looking forward to meeting you Dave."
I had to ask, "Why do you sound breathless."
She insisted it was simply because Mister Gabe was such an overpowering personality. She was still catching her breath from the experience.
But that was it, according to Jennifer. The night was all about talking. Other than holding her hands, he didn't touch her, or do anything in anyway inappropriate. They continued to drink from the bottle of wine that Mister Gabe had supplied, served by his concierge, "C". My wife told him all about us, our lives together, our hopes and dreams ... everything about herself, me, and our kids. I probed Jen for details about what she thought about Mister Gabe, and all she would say was that he was a very handsome, intelligent, and likeable gentleman with her. She said that he was obviously a strong man both in terms of physicality and mentally. I got the impression from Jennifer that she was drawn to the man, and for some reason it made me both nervous and erotically interested, although I didn't pursue that thought with her at the time.
We had been on the phone for a long time, and I had to work early the next day. I reminded her that I would be home later Friday evening and not Wednesday as I had originally hoped as the work with the client was taking a bit longer than I expected, and that was it. The call was over. My family had met Mister Gabe.
As was normal, I called home again on the Tuesday after dinner. Molly picked up the phone. She advised me that the entire family was having a "formal" dinner with Mister Gabe on the patio. She seemed quite excited by it all as her mother had given permission for her and Mike to have one glass of the excellent wine that "C" was pouring during the meal. Only one, but it was a first for both of them, and she was a bit giggly.
Brock was there as well, Molly said, and they were all having a wonderful time. She broke off and handed the phone to my wife. Jen reiterated what was going on. In a pause in her description of the way that "C" had set up the patio for the formal dinner I heard laughter in the background – Sara's laugh obvious amoungst it. Then I could hear a male voice, "Jennifer, you will talk to him when he gets home at the end of the week. You are being rude right now. Put down the phone and come back to the table."
I could hardly believe it but my wife simply cut off what she was saying and stated, "I am being rude, Dave, I will talk to you when you get home. I love you." ... and she hung up.
I called back but the phone just went to voicemail. I tried a number of times during the evening, including all of the cellphones that my family owned, and none of them were answered. Eventually I just gave up.
The next day, Wednesday, went extremely well with the client, to the point that by the end of the day I was done. I could go home. As I scrambled to get out to the airport, I did try to call home, but there was no answer.
I landed at home around 8pm, and grabbed a cab. It was still very hot out so I was glad the ac was working in the cab. I was pulling into our cul-de-sac by the time that the sun was going down, around 9'ish. I could see Sara's and Brock's cars in the driveway, and presumed that Jen's was in the garage. The car that Mike and Molly shared was not there, but I wasn't surprised. They spent more time away from home in the evenings, than actually there. There was nothing in the neighboring driveway, so again, I assumed that Mister Gabe's ride was in his garage.
I got out of the cab and let myself in the front door. It was dark inside, although I could see some refracted light coming from the backyard via the kitchen area. I put my bag and laptop case down in the foyer, and loosening my tie, headed for the patio door. I paused at the closed screen door taking in the scene before me.
The fire pit was lit, casting a soft glow over the area to supplement the light coming from the in-pool lights which were also on, on a low setting. Facing away from me, in the love seat on my side of the fire pit I could see a couple sitting, with anouther woman bending over the back talking to them. I could hear my daughter's giggle, so knew that the couple was probably Sara and Brock. The woman, with long black hair streaming down her back, looked to be wearing a dark pool cover up – her legs were bare. I could see that she was in the process of filling wine glasses held by the couple.
Past them, barely discernible in the gloom on the other side of the fire pit, was anouther couple.
I pulled the screen door open, and stepped outside. Immediately I could see my daughter start to move, followed by a gruff "stay where you are girl" coming from the other couple. I could also see Jennifer sit up straight and lean towards me, peering through the glow of the fire. The deep voice said, "C", and the woman leaning over my daughter stood suddenly and whirled to face me. She was holding a magnum of wine in one hand. Before she turned to head towards the bar, with the light behind her, I could see that her pool cover up was diaphanous, and that she didn't appear to be wearing anything other than bikini bottoms under it. That one glimpse told me that this woman had a very nice rack on her.
I was about half way to the group, a distance of maybe twenty feet, when I was intercepted by "C", holding a large glass of white wine in her hand. From behind her I could see a massive man standing from where he had been beside Jennifer. He stepped around the fire pit and the intervening couch and, with his hand extended, said, "Mr. Dane I presume. Well met." With a gesture he indicated that I should drink the wine. "I am Gabriel Black. You are a pleasant and unexpected sight tonight, with some catching up to do. Since your younger children went out, I have been enjoying your family in the pool. Please, drink up, and "C" will get you anouther."
I took a swallow, and looked up at the man. He was coal black, and stood about six inches taller than me. In his white bathing boxers, I could see that he was heavily muscled. In my brief appraisal of the man I noted that he seemed to be sporting a semi-woody, and that, based upon the brief look, his equipment matched the rest of his body. I took his offered hand as he smiled at me. "You have a very pleasant family David, may I call you David?", and he continued, "everybody is into their third or fourth glass. It is a blend fortified with my own touches that give it a certain additional flair. Drink. Drink up!"
Mentally shrugging, I drained the glass which was then removed from my hand and immediately refilled by the stunning lady beside me. Mister Gabe bemusedly observed me observing her, and introduced us, "David, this is Cynthia, my concierge. We all call her simply "C". Now, come, join us," as if I needed inviting into my own backyard.
"C" moved back into the shadows near the bar, and I followed Mister Gabe around the fire pit. Jennifer stood as he stepped past her and came into my arms. I was thunderstruck by what she was wearing! She too had on a diaphanous pool cover up over only a bikini bottom. As she stepped up to me the wrap billowed, showing that it was not tied shut, briefly exposing her exquisite tummy and her magnificent cleavage to me. "Hello lover," she whispered, "we weren't expecting you until Friday. I am so glad you are home," and she passionately kissed me. Right there in front of everybody she pulled my face down to hers and drove her tongue into my mouth. She tasted like the wine I had just consumed.
My mind whirled briefly, and I staggered slightly. A full glass of wine on an empty stomach, and after a very full and busy day was probably not the brightest thing that I had done. My wife grasped my hand and drew me down onto the couch beside her. Mister Gabe was already sitting on the other side of Jen, and as she landed on the seat she moved over, next to him, giving me room to sit.
I took anouther gulp of the wine even though I could already feel my senses clouding. I turned to look across the fire pit at my daughter, and her fiancé. As much as I was still struggling with my wife's attire, I was blown away by what I saw across from me.
Brock was sitting half turned towards my daughter, in a pair of white swim trunks similar to those worn by Mister Gabe. Sara's hand – complete with engagement ring – was resting high on his thigh and moving gently back and forth over Brock's very obvious boner. Brock's arm stretched up over my daughter's shoulders with his hand draping down over her breast. Sara was wearing only her bikini bottom – completely nude up top. My shocked eyes couldn't help but be drawn to her perfect pear shaped breasts, capped as they were by silver dollar sized aureoles and large nipples. Brock's fingers were frozen in place over her left nipple as he anxiously awaited my reaction. Sara's eyes were wide as she stared into mine. I was speechless. Jennifer quickly leaned into me, dragging her hand across my thigh and into my lap. She put her lips to my neck and bit softly. She giggled, "Its ok lover. Mister Gabe laid down the rules when they met ... I told you about that ... Brock can touch her there." Her hand found my rapidly growing erection as I couldn't tear my eyes away from the perfection of Sara's chest. Jen continued, "We've all seen them before. Oh, well, except for you before tonight," and she giggled again and scraped her teeth across my throat. She pulled herself slowly up my body until her lips were at my ear and whispered throatily "I am sooo fucking horny!"
That took my eyes away from my daughter finally. I gripped my wife's waist, and pulled her to me. Though my head seemed to be stuffed with wool, her lips got my attention. For a moment I forgot where we were and moved my hands across my wife's body as my lips and tongue dueled with hers. Jennifer climbed on to me stopping when she was sitting on my lap, grinding her bikini clad pussy into my raging hard on. My hands slipped up from her waist, parting the cover up and grasping her breasts.
We continued to passionately kiss and fondle each other for a few moments. Oddly, I could feel the fog lifting from my mind. We didn't stop until, as I was slowly dropping my hand from her right tit to her butt, I came across anouther hand caressing the back of her thigh! Suddenly I stopped sucking on Jen's tongue and lifting her away from me I looked down to see this massive black hand stroking her left leg from the back of her knee right up to the cleft in her bum. My eyes lifted to look into Mister Gabe's eyes. He smiled slightly at me, and then rumbled, "C", "Mister Dane needs anouther glass ... about half should do it." The black man assisted my wife off of me, and into a seat between him and I as "C" put a half glass of wine in my hand. "Drink it up David," Mister Gabe said while pulling my wife in to cuddle under his arm – like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Drink!" he ordered and I downed the glass, and returned it to "C".
A sound from the other side of the fire pit drew all of our attention. Looking over I could see that Brock was kneading Sara's breast and trying to pinch the nipple. Sara was squirming and staring at me staring at her, both of us wide eyed. This was so wrong I was telling myself, sitting here with my half naked daughter in front of me getting felt up by her fiancé, while my wife was cuddling under the arm of a black stranger. And yet I didn't do anything about it.
It got even more wrong, quickly. Mister Gabe growled, "Not like that Brock. Watch."
I turned to look as me brushed my wife's cover up off of her left breast and gripped the breast firmly. "You start at the base of the tit and move your fingers out to the nipple," demonstrating on my wife as he spoke, "and when you get the nipple you pinch it like this." He pinched Jen's nipple between his thumb and index finger, "and then you twist" while he did just that. My wife let out a soft moan as Mister Gabe aggressively twisted her nipple. I could see her whole body tense into his side. "And, finally Brock, you pull like this as you are twisting," as he pulled her tit away from her body. My wife lifted partially off of the seat as he pulled her breast into a cone away from her body.
"No! Fuck, boy. Not like that!" roared Mister Gabe as he suddenly stood, dropping my wife half way onto my lap. He took two paces to get around the other side of the fire pit and then reaching down towards my daughter he casually brushed Brock's hand off of Sara's tit and grabbed both of her breasts as he had just demonstrated on my wife. Twisting and sliding his hands down to her nipples he tightly squeezed both and pulled, lifting Sara from her sitting position beside Brock, off of the chair and into the air. In a second he had my daughter dangling by her nipples with her toes barely touching the ground. She was mewling, a sound somewhere between pain and passion. The huge black man was staring down at Brock while he shook my daughter by the tits, "this is how it is fucking done, boy!" he yelled.
"Hey" I croaked out of a dry throat, barely heard. Again, but clearer, I asserted myself, "hey!"
Mister Gabe looked back at me, and I could see him visually calming himself. He looked down at the petite young girl dangling from his fingers and suddenly changed his grip, dropping one hand to her waist to catch her as she fell, and the other hand to her butt. He pulled her up close to his body, using his leverage and grip to grind her pussy into the bulge in his swim trunks. Mister Gabe leaned over her and planted his lips on hers forcing his tongue into her mouth. I could see that his hand on her butt was partially inside her bikini bottom and his finger obviously touching her nether lips. Beside me, my wife was gripping my arm and moaning softly.
Suddenly, Mister Gabe placed Sara on her feet and took a half step back. "You two," he said, clearly talking to Sara and Brock, "it is time for you to leave. Brock, come back on the weekend. We burn some meat on the grill and drink some beer. Sara. Go to your room. You need to go to bed." He waived his hands at both as they scrambled up and headed into the house. As soon as the patio door closed, Mister Gabe turned towards the bar, "C", follow them. Inquire of Brock as to whether he has ever fucked someone other than our Sara, and generally find out his state of mind. I believe that he will have a tough time abiding by the restriction not to fuck her before Mister Dane here gives her to him. We will have to find some other outlet for him I fear." As "C" hurried towards the door, he continued, "and "C", calm the girl down." She paused to look at him. "Calm her down Cynthia. That is an order." Once again she turned to the door, but not before Mister Gabe rumbled, "And you will pay for that moment of disobedience girl."
"C" disappeared into the house, and Mister Gabe turned back to Jennifer and me. He held out his finger to Jen and after a short pause in which he nodded to her, she leaned forward and took the finger into her mouth. "Good girl," her murmured to her. He turned to me and, grinning, said, "Your daughter is a sweet thing, as I'm sure your wife will attest." Then it clicked on me that this man's finger had just been inside my daughter's cunt, and that he had just placed that same finger into my wife's mouth. "I have tasted her before, so I speak with some authority on the matter" he frankly stated.
Mister Gabe sat again, on the other side of my wife, and pulled her into his side. She drew her legs up on to the couch between us and adjusted her cover so that her breast was no longer in plain view. I did nothing but sit there and look between the two of them.
"David" he said to me, "you must be sweltering in those clothes. Go up to your room and change into shorts or a swim suit or something. I simply got up and headed for the house, leaving my wife under his arm.
As I slowly walked through the foyer to the base of the stairs I could see Brock's car pulling away from the driveway. My mind was clear, the earlier fog having completely dissipated, and as I moved up the stairs I found myself wondering about what had just happened, and why I had done nothing about any of it. The black man had violated both my wife and my daughter, and I had left Jen back there with him.
I got to the top of the stairs and I could hear voices from Sara's room so I meandered over to her doorway. It was open. Inside I could see "C" standing in front of Sara holding my half naked daughter by the shoulders as she spoke softly to her. I could see that Sara was slowly shaking her head in disagreement with whatever "C" was saying, but caught myself staring once again at her perfect breasts.
Sara saw me looking at her and her eyes flared wide. "C" turned to see me, and smiling slightly, ordered "Mister Dane. Just the help I need. Come over here."
I immediately headed into the room. "C" pulled Sara into the middle of the room, and directed me to stand behind her. "Hold her arms behind her back, and don't let her go" she ordered.
I grabbed my daughter's arms and pulled them behind her back. "C" smiled seductively and tossed her long black hair behind her shoulder. She leaned slowly into my daughter and brushed her hand down Sara's cheek to her neck. As the fingers slowly caressed down her shoulder "C" whispered to her, "you are worked up aren't you girl? My master has that effect on women." Her fingers brushed down to the top of my daughter's left breast and lingered there. "He told me to calm you down. I know exactly how to do that."
Sara started to struggle, crying "no" in a low plaintive voice.
"Hold her tight," I was ordered. Switching my grip, and pinned her two hands between our bodies and pulled her tightly to me with one hand around Sara's waist and the other across and around her shoulders.
"C" stepped back and parting the cover up that barely did that, dropped it to the floor behind her. I was now looking over Sara's shoulder at this raven haired beauty, also now as half naked as the squirming girl I held in my arms. I could not pull my eyes from "C"'s chest, and what with Sara wiggling her bikini clad ass up and down my cock, I could tell that it was quickly rising in response.
"C" dropped to her knees in front of my daughter. She reached for and pulled the ties on each side of Sara's bikini bottoms. As they loosened, "C" looked up into my eyes and demanded in a throaty growl, "do not let her go Mister Dane!" Sara was now naked, with "C" at eye level to her pussy lips. I couldn't see anything from my perspective behind my daughter, but my imagination was supplying all that my cock needed to be straining at my work pants.
"C" leaned in to casually lick at the top of Sara's left thigh, and at the same time reached around my daughter, insinuating her hands between our bodies until her fingers rested on my belt. I could hear my daughter groan, and realized that she was no longer struggling. Craning over Sara's shoulder I looked between her breasts down towards where "C" was now methodically licking all around my daughter's cunt. At the same time, "C"'s fingers had opened my belt and pulled the zipper of my pants down. She paused and looked up, into my eyes as she grabbed both my pants and boxers and pulled them to my knees.
She gently pulled me down so that my knees were bent and then with one hand on my stiff eight inches, and the other on my butt she pulled me forward so that my cock pushed along the crack of my daughter's ass and between her legs. "C" leaned forward to lick the head of my cock as it appeared from between Sara's thighs. Sara let out a deep groan as "C" at the same time pressed up on my cock and moved her licking to the top of Sara's box ... right on her exposed clit.
"C" controlled me by pushing on my butt, and pressing upward on my cock with her other hand always ensuring that my cock was in contact with my daughter's cunt lips as it moved back and forth. Soon I realized that I was moving my hard on by myself. My arm had tightened around Sara's waist and her hands – no longer pinned between us, were flexing on my arm. My other arm, once safely around her shoulders had dropped to tightly grip my daughter's precious boob, squeezing and squeezing. Sara continued to moan and groan. "C" had turned her full attention to Sara's lips and clit, driving her fingers in and out of her hole as her tongue swirled around the sensitive bud at the top of her lips.
I couldn't continue this for long, and neither could my daughter. When Sara moaned, "daaadddddyyyy!" I lost it, twisting her nipple savagely as pumped my cock between her legs. "C" drove three fingers into my daughter's cunt and bit down on her clit. Sara screamed ... and I came. And I came. And I came, shooting all over "C"s chin and breasts as Sara drenched her face in cum at the same time.
My knees sagged and I dropped to the floor with Sara falling in my arms with me.
We were all panting from our efforts and our passion, including "C" who was sitting on her knees observing us as she caught her breath. "Daddy," came from my little girl as she turned in my arms and drove her tongue into my mouth. Hotly I sucked her tongue in, nibbling on it, before I pushed it out of the way to demand entrance into her mouth.
The passion sweetened, and slowed. We stopped with Sara crouched over me, her breasts resting in my hands and her staring into my eyes. "I love you Daddy".
All I could say was to repeat back to her, "and I love you Sara darling."
Suddenly "C" swatted me across the legs, and pinched Sara. "Get up! Mister Dane, you are done. Get out of here. Sara, sweetling, come to the bed with me now." We all rose, me pulling my pants back up as I did. "C" had moved Sara over to her bed and with a quick movement, shed her own bikini bottoms. She pushed Sara back on to the bed and moved to position herself over my daughter. "Hush" she said to Sara, "it is my turn." She looked at me and ordered, "I told you to get out of here. Go!"
I left. Again, my mind cleared from the heat of what had just happened, and while I "knew" that what I had just done was terribly wrong, the only thing I "felt" was that it had been so right to do. I really did not have regrets. God help me!
I went to my room and stood in the closet for a moment trying to recall why I was there. Then it hit me ... Mister Gabe had told me to change. He was still outside with my wife. How long had it been? What were they doing?
I tore my suit off, and grabbing a pair of shorts I pulled them on and ran for the stairs.
I slowed to a walk in the kitchen and again paused at the screen door. This was where I was at nine thirty. How long ago was that? Looking out I could see Mister Gabe bent over my wife. Clearly he was kissing her. Clearly she was enjoying it.
I pulled open the screen door and strode to the couple – my wife and the black man – entangled on the couch. Jen broke her kiss and looked up at me. Momentarily there was a look of concern on her face which immediately cleared into a brilliant smile as Mister Gabe said, "I'm told that kissing is ok. Isn't that so, Dave?"
I found myself nodding, along with Jennifer who was also nodding, as I regained my seat beside them. I reached out and put my hand on Jen's shoulder drawing her to me. She came, reluctantly it seemed, but she came, looking in my eyes the whole time. "What were you up to so long in there," queried Mister Gabe?
"I ... I ... I was helping "C" calm Sara down," I stuttered as my incestuous act with my daughter came crashing in on me like a freight train. What the fuck had I done? Jennifer reached up to caress my chin and then dipped her lips to suck on my right nipple.
"hmmm," came from Mister Gabe. "Good for you David. I was starting to despair about you. Perhaps there is hope. For the moment though, that is enough of that Pet," and he roughly pulled my wife from me and onto his lap. In a moment she had adjusted to crouching over his lap, leaning in as he murmured something in her ear.
She turned her head sideways to look at me. There was fire in her eyes as she throatily whispered, "David, please take off my cover up. Mister Gabe wants to suck on my tits. He was waiting for you to get back and now he is very impatient."
I found myself getting up from the couch and leaning over my wife, grasping the sides of her cover up and pulling them back and off of her shoulders. Standing, I held her garment. Crouching, she straightened her back and looking over her shoulder at me whispered, "thank you my love." With that Mister Gabe pulled her forward, snaring a nipple between his fat black lips.
I stood there and watched as the black giant sucked and nibbled and bit my wife's tits. His hand roamed her bare back, and crept down to and under her bikini bottom. Jennifer just writhed in his arms, her breasts a pleasure extension of his mouth. She moaned.
From some distant place I could hear the patio door open and close, and the pad of bare feet approach. I could not tear my eyes from the scene in front of me until a naked and sweaty "C" positioned herself beside the couple.
"Dave ... Dave!" came from Jennifer. She had stopped moving on the black man's lap and had her ass in the air towards me. His eyes were on me as well as she looked at me and said, "Mister Gabe would like you to take off my bottoms. Please David ... please take off my bottoms for Mister Gabe," she pleaded with me.
I moved to crouch between their legs so that I could more easily reach the ties on either side of her bikini. Mister Gabe growled, "you may as well remove my trunks as well David." I paused with one hand on one of my wife's ties, and looked between their bodies. Mister Gabe was hard, and he was huge. His cock looked to be at least a foot long, and it was straining his swim trunks to their limit.
I found myself pulling the ties on Jennifer's bikini bottoms when "C" cleared her throat, "Master, it is approaching eleven o'clock."
"Fuck!" roared the black man, and he immediately rose to his feet, knocking me backwards onto my heels. "Fuck, fuck, and fuck!" he roared over again. Mister Gabe visibly took control of himself and gently placed my naked wife on her feet before him. He reached down and with one hand helped me to my feet. "Your younger children are due home any minute. We are done for tonight," and he motioned us towards the house.
As we backed away, we could both see his massive tool straining at his trunks. He turned to his nude concierge, "you go to the room. You will be punished, and I will be relieved." With a mighty thwack across her ass he drove "C" towards the door to his side of the house. He paused once more and looking at me and my wife, he murmured softly, "this eleven o'clock witching hour is unacceptable. I will think of something." He quickly strode to me and taking up my hand gave it a firm shake, "thank you David for the pleasure of your wife". He dropped my hand, and reached for Jennifer, pulling her close by pinching her nipple and pulling. His other hand dove for her cunt and two fingers dug inside briefly as she bent from the sudden onslaught. We could both easily hear the squish of liquid as he stirred her juices. Just as suddenly her withdrew his fingers and put them in his mouth, and turned to me, "she is as sweet as your daughter, David. I like your wife very much. Yes, I do."
With that he followed "C" into his house. Jennifer briefly glanced towards me and then scrambled to pick up her clothing. I stopped her at the patio door. We could hear the front door of the house opening, but I drew my wife to me and put my fingers where the black man's were recently. Jennifer stood statue still as I brought my fingers to my mouth and sucked them clean. "He is correct. You are sweet my love, and I do love you very much." Jennifer's face twisted from a small smile to a sob in a heartbeat and she crashed into my arms, "I love you too David, I love you, I love you, I love you."
We both heard Mike and Molly moving in the foyer, so holding hands, and with our clothing straightened and with Jennifer having donned a bathrobe that hung by the patio (for guests getting out of the pool), we entered the house.
That is how I met Mister Gabe.