Chapter 9

“It’s black.” My bewildered husband stared at the thing in the box. I had bought it as a gift for us.

“Yes, George, and it is one of the bigger dildos which the store carries.” I spoke calmly but with strength. “This is the right step for me to take. It’s not about you but what I face in the immediate future, if not today then possibly tomorrow.”

“I believe you, Colleen, but I also worry-” He bit his lip. “About me.”

“You will never lose my respect, no matter how you react.” I touched his arm. “George, you are stronger than you give yourself credit for, despite setbacks. If we’re lucky, perhaps you’ll find a measure of peace with your experiences, including playing with this stupidly expensive lump of silicone.” I tried a chuckle. He gave a polite smile. I slid the cover onto the box and stashed it in a dusty shoe box, taking care not to disturb the dust. I put the shoes, which I hadn’t worn in months, by the door, so I could donate them.

My story about the black gardner, revealed my husband’s latent fetish to be enhanced by an interracial element. Bringing a tidbit of reality to that fantasy felt like the right thing. As for my feelings, I didn’t like the dildo at all. I shouldn’t have bought one so lifelike with veins and a fat flaring tip! My stomach got queasy from looking at the black toy, but I didn’t tell my husband. I was confident that he needed to take this next step.

My ill fortune took the next step in the middle of the night. My phone blared me awake. The loud ringtone roused George as well. Leland was calling. I tapped the ‘end call’ button and switched off the ringer. It immediately vibrated in my hand, another call from Leland. It was quickly followed by a text. “You goin to suffr lot wrse than hve if y don anser m cals.” His typing was terrible. I went to our bathroom, but I found myself unable to close the door, which would have shut me in a small room with Leland’s presence. I hurried out into the hall and went into the utility closet, leaving the door open by a comfortable gap. I tapped on ‘call back.’

“Wha te fuck, Colll’n?” He was angry but his words were slurred.

“It’s the middle of the night. You woke my husband.”

“I’m drunk. Yer li’l, white pussy bett’r hed don ta 6ththth street and Main b’fore I lose conshus. Take me to Thuh Stadem or hospit’l, d’pending how you find, urk!, me.”

“I’ll be right there.” I assured him. I could have buried my phone under a towel and gone back to bed, but the intersection he spoke of had a reputation. If he did fall unconscious, he would wake up in a hospital, probably in traction. Still I dithered, telling myself that the bastard deserved to be broken!

I went to George who was even more awake having witnessed my furtive actions. “This will make no sense, but Leland is in considerable danger. I don’t want to go to him, but-”

“He’s not tricking you?”

“Not this time. I’m sure.” I was mostly sure.

“I’ll go with you.” He started getting out of bed.

“George, he’s not going to like that. We don’t want to anger him.” I considered using my new forged powers of assertiveness over my husband, but I did fear going alone into one of the worst parts of the city late at night. “H-he might do something - awful to you again.”

“Better me than you. You said I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. Tonight I’m going to test that credit.” He would not be dissuaded. He threw on a shirt and pants. I put on a heavy robe that tied together with multiple strings. We ran to the car, in our slippers.

He drove the Prius. It was a smarter move than you might think. A well cared for car gains more respect from unfortunates, than a time worn vehicle would earn.

City traffic at 3am allowed us to reach Leland in less than fifteen minutes. He was a mess: bloody nose, scraped elbows, palms, and knees, ... His bulging stomach had a foot print on it! A pool of vomit lay near his head, and his hair was half soaked. He cringed and raised his arm at our approach, not recognizing us. “Al kill y’muthafuggers!” Leland groaned loudly!

“It’s your white slut, Leland!” I shouted over his barks of pain. “I’m gonna take you to the hospital.”

“Honey!” George scolded.

“I needed to be sure he understood who I am.”

“Culleen?” Leland’s jaw trembled. “Dae took ma phone, ma clip, an ma bottle! Then some crazy com along in jus kick me!”

“I’ll put a blanket in the back seat.” George went to the car.

“Y gonna fug me, Sweetee? I be reel nice ‘is time.”

“Yes.” The stupid bastard, I should have kicked his nuts myself! “Now let me help you to the car.”

He was able to get to his feet with little help, but he staggered, bent over due to a possible hernia from being kicked. “Balls hurt lik muthafugg’r! Lemme see y tits, lik goo Bich.” He wheezed.

“When we get to the car.”

George had an open water bottle in his hand and rinsed Leland’s hair. The vile smell decreased ninety percent. My husband helped to heft the large black man into the limited back seat. Leland grabbed my left wrist. “Y sit w me, right?” He spoke with equal parts demand and plea.

“Leland, let go of my wife!” George blurted, a lot of repressed anger launched the words.

“No, fggat! I gots fuk her!”

“He’s in no shape to worry about, George. Just get him to emergency care.” I slipped into the back seat and placed Leland’s head on my lap. George fumed while ducking into the driver seat and racing away at top posted speed. I rolled down the window to vent the smell of Jagermeister puke. Also it made me feel less confined with Leland who pawed at the top strings of my robe. “Dem tittys be bess, Whyht Slut. My Shelly-” He frowned deep with sadness. “N’vr ha ta belt ‘er.”

His fingers shook too much to untie the top string of my robe. Sadly knowing that my husband would find out I gave in. Why did I give a damn about this abusive rapist!? I untied the top string and pulled open my robe. “Take your mind off the hurt, okay?”

Leland grabbed my naked tits roughly. My sharp moan drew George’s attention. I was ready. “This is nothing George, and he’ll get nothing else, but I can’t stand to see him in pain. If this were you, I’d be sucking your dick, even if it was covered in vomit.”

His lips clamped tight with anger, but he turned his glare to the windshield.

Leland licked and sucked on my weary nipples. His hands continued to grope madly. I cradled his foul head and tried to stifle my winces and sharp grunts. It seemed to make a difference. I felt the broken black man’s distress weaken.

Reaching the hospital, George leaped out and ran inside to get a stretcher. He came back, saying that the ER was full. He had described Leland’s injuries to the triage nurse, but the man said we’d have to wait. That could mean hours.

I looked on my phone about stomach impacts. A hernia seemed likely, which needed surgery, but it wasn’t life threatening in most cases. “George, we should take him home.”

“I’m putting my foot down.” He sounded manly, but his eyes were glued on my manipulated boobs. “I won’t let this beast in our home again!”

“D’Sta-dee-um.” Leland slurred. “Json fix ih fer meh.”

“How about the Shade Palm? He knows that motel. It won’t feel disorienting.”

“How about I drag him into ER and leave him on the floor?”

I took a deep breath and exhaled. When I felt calmer, I met my husband’s eyes, with great disappointment on my face.

“Damn it.” He relented.

It took another twenty minutes to drive to the motel. Leland took to mumbling, half unconscious, freeing my breasts from his grip. George paid for a ground floor room. He helped me lug the black bastard through the door and into the shower. “I’ll clean him.” I took off my robe. Leland woke up enough to stand shakily under the hot flow of water. Wearing only panties, I undressed him then took to soaping his overweight body.

George watched. Empathy finally worked some sense into his trauma driven anger.

When my hand with the tiny bar of soap ran up and down the black man’s limp dick, he tried to kiss me. “Let me clean you first, Leland.” Refusing him would only have inflamed his misguided desire. He lurched and howled when I touched his scrotum. I had to run soapy water over the hairy sack, to get them somewhat clean.

When the sliver of soap had drained through the shower floor, and he had been fully rinsed, I gave my broken rapist a peck on the cheek, ushered him out of the stall and was surprised when George began toweling the drunken man who had cuckolded him.

My husband wouldn’t meet my eyes, but he must have sensed how grateful I was. “I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

“You’re suppose to be pissed off when your wife give her tits to a rapist bastard! But take care toweling his balls.”

He grumbled and worked the towel lower. A second later he grunted a laugh. “Hey, Leland, who’s getting faggoty now - from a guy rubbing your dick?” My husband could feel the drunken old black’s penis flesh out, but with erection came pain. George stopped drying it. I held Leland while George quickly toweled the man’s thick legs and broad feet.

“Fug ya, Ppsssy Mauth!” It had taken Leland a minute to figure out what George had said.

“I guess he recognizes you too.” I covered my mouth to hide my amused grin.

We helped Leland into a bed. I grabbed George, pushed him onto the other bed and began tearing off his quick change of clothes. “Fuck me, Lover. I need cock, hard and pounding!”

Like me, George was eager for his dick in my cunt. We rocked that bed for nearly a minute. His swore ecstatically, the first couple squirts of cum blasting into me. His remaining semen flowed quickly to a halt. I was still breathing deep and fast. “George, I need more.”

Leland’s sustained’s groans had nothing to do with his proximity to our flaunted fuck. He lay staring at the ceiling. His dick pointed high in that direction as well.

George’s quick ejaculation was a surprise to him. I had an inkling of the reason - a cuck’s revenge. Instead of losing confidence in his sexual prowess, he dived his head down and worked both my clit and cum seeping pussy with dutiful sucks and licks. He was hesitant however to finger my seeping cleft. It was strange to me that my husband minded touching cum more than tasting it. I was familiar with this facet of his sexuality but hadn’t cared. That night the fact seemed more important.”

“Hae Whyht Slut, don be leev’ meh inuh-lursh! I got ta dick y’ relly need. Det puss-moth an gon make y’ cum lik my beg blak cock.”

My husband was doing an excellent job of sustaining my arousal, but Leland in the locked room worried me despite his incapacitation. When the black man started talking, I flinched, nearly kneeing George’s dancing chin! My excitement drained significantly. However, upon turning my head to Leland’s surprisingly horny gaze, a fresh wind blew on the flames in my loins. “You feel so good, George! Keep at it.” I breathed shallowly.

“Ah noze y’, Whyht Bich. Yu be miss’n a big hard rut!”

Something fearful possessed me. I needed to cum but was losing confidence in my husband’s skilled tongue lashing in that strange moment. “Do it harder, George. Bite if you must, I need more.” I pleaded, hoping to defeat my growing fear that my husband might one day be unable to pleasure me.

That would be sad, maybe even tragic, but I would make that sacrifice to sustain our bond. I didn’t need orgasms to live. I especially hated the small ones that had happened from that fat, black assailant! Seeing Leland impotent, unexpectedly moved me to take care of his need. The man had suffered a tragic loss-

“UNGH!” I grunted loudly from an attempt at biting my clit. I’d never made such a harsh request from my true love. He didn’t know how hard to bite. “Good! But a little harder!” I told him. When I howled from his next bite, he pulled away from my soaked vulva. “Sorry!”

“NO! KEEP DOING THAT!!” I exclaimed! I reached for his head and pulled it back to my twitching cunt. “Bite the shit out of my damn clit, Pussy Mouth!”

Suddenly, George batted my arms away from his head. He pulled away again, painfully astonished. “I can’t harm you, Colleen. I don’t work that way.”

I forced myself to breath as if I was giving birth! I had demanded too much. “Oh, George, I wasn’t thinking straight.”