Chapter 4: Wednesday Morning, Oak Grove

The knock came less than ten minutes after Derrick left. Jasmine was still on the bed, thighs sticky, both holes leaking, the sleep shirt and shorts somewhere on the floor. She had stayed exactly where she was, the guilt fading under the clearer feeling that she was enjoying this. When the knock sounded she assumed Derrick had forgotten something. She pulled the shirt back on, walked to the door barefoot, and opened it.

Jerry stood on the porch—6’5”, solid 250 pounds, the same jeans already tight across his thighs. Surprise flashed across her face for half a second. Then it changed. She smiled.

“Come in,” she said.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. His eyes moved over her—the rumpled shirt, the flush still on her skin, the way she stood a little differently from being used. In the kitchen he didn’t sit. He looked at her and said, voice low and even, “I own you now. You’re my black cock slut. You’ll be used however I see fit. You can still fuck your husband so he doesn’t get suspicious. But you’re mine.”

The words landed and settled. The last of the Sunday guilt tried to rise and didn’t make it. She smiled again, smaller this time, and dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor. She unbuttoned his jeans, pulled them open, and took the thick head of his 10-inch cock into her mouth. She was already addicted to the size of it, to the stretch of her lips and the weight on her tongue. She sucked him deep, spit running down the shaft, one hand working what she couldn’t fit while the other rested on his thigh. Every inch she took fed the need that had started on Monday and grown stronger with every load.