Sometimes, it’s challenging to be in a female-led relationship. Your only desire is to please her, but you aren’t a person who can. It wasn’t long after the 27-year-old Thomas married his 19-year-old bride that Trudy told him something extremely difficult to hear.

“Tommy dear, please don’t think bad of me, but honestly, you’re not much good at sex.”

Thomas’s face turned crimson. He hung his head and struggled to respond to the statement.

“I was hoping, you being a virgin when first made love, you wouldn’t know the difference.”

“Oh, you knew you were bad at fucking?” she said, and Trudy breathed a little huff of frustration or disgust. He wasn’t sure which. “Have you heard of the BNWO?”

“Some,” he said. “But I not small down there.”

“Don’t be defensive. I didn’t say you weren’t big enough to please me.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard about it. But really, I already support the black movements out there.”

“Only with money,” Trudy said.

He began to understand what she meant. He needed to do more and be open to the spirit of the movements. At that moment, he gave her all his authority and agency. Their marriage was now female-led. From then on, their relationship was hot-wife and cuckold husband.

When Damon Pride moved in next door, Trudy decided she’d found herself the Black man for them. It became Thomas’s job to arrange the happy couple’s trysts. She suggested to Thomas that he needed to become softer to comply with their goals. And poor sap agreed. Trudy began putting estrogen supplements in his drinks, food, and sweets.

Thomas’s cock and balls suffered some serious shrinkage because of this. But he realized Trudy was willing to give everything for the cause. Who was he to disagree. But he still got hard, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.

Three years later, they are in a happy love triangle. A 30-year-old caged husband, his 22-year-old happy hot-wife, and her 63-year-old hung black bull. The bull doesn’t live with them. He lives next door. It’s Trudy and Thomas’s third anniversary, and Thomas has outdone himself with her gift.

Naked, impatient, biting the skin around his thumbnail, Thomas waited in front of the computer. For the third time, he opened the lid of his laptop and set it down before him, waiting for the inevitable invitation. He could barely look at the screen. The password prompt seemed a cruel taunt: Enter to join the meeting. Trudy and Damon were making him wait.

Earlier that week, when he booked the hotel, Trudy told him, “Wittle cuck might have to wait.”

She said they would send the invitation whenever they felt like it, but she did say that maybe, just maybe, he could expect it after they opened the first bottle of champagne. Thomas remembered making the dinner reservations, confirming the date for the anniversary, and listened to her laugh. Booking a honeymoon suit for the two lovers. His cock constantly swelled up as he booked everything for the lovers.

He envisioned her pasty, pale white hand on his dark ebony mass mitt and sucked in air and tried to push the vision from his mind.

He felt like a kid waiting for Christmas, barely able to keep himself from pulling his hair out. Abstaining from jacking off had been Trudy’s idea, and he had kept his cock in its tight little cage all week just to show her how devoted he was. He rubbed his neck and licked the key in his hand.

It tasted like a metallic sin.

In his mind, he saw them at the hotel. Trudy and Damon laughing, fucking, forgetting all about him, deciding to leave him out this time. A nerve in his thigh twitched, and he tapped the table again. His hand moved to unlock the cage, then to the keyboard.

A cable connected the laptop to the big-screen TV, and Thomas adjusted its angles, cables, and sound. One from left, and another from right, covering each side of the bed. Then there was one from the foot, one from the headboard. The monitor loomed over him, blank. Trudy and Damon might wait until morning. They might fuck all night, finish with him in person, and not let him come at all.

It was her cruelty to him he loved most.

He imagined Damon’s muscular body and his own wife’s moans. Imagined her down on her knees, on her back, screaming in ecstasy.

“You ready for our wittle, cucky date?” she’d asked him earlier in the week. He pictured them sipping champagne and laughed out loud when he repeated the phrase she had made him say.

“Don’t be disappointed, wittle cuck.”

They might never send the invite, might wait until morning to give him an orgasm. He wanted, no needed to release the cage and end this anticipation. He remembered the last time he was with them when they fucked.

“We should make him eat it again,” Trudy had said the last time she made love to Damon. “Wittle cucky likes?” she asked, pushing the man’s cum into Thomas’s mouth.

“Think he does,” Damon replied.

Over an hour passed, and Thomas saw his inbox fill with spam. Advertisements, auto-responses. His legs jiggled. He gnawed the skin around his fingers. He got up, sat down, and adjusted himself in the chair.

“Fuck, fuck-a-dee, fuck,” he said, quiet and deliberate and under his breath. He stared at the motionless screen. He didn’t dare open the cage. He held the key in his left hand and thumbed the keyboard with his right.

When the invitation arrived, Thomas’s fingers went numb. He fumbled for the touchpad and clicked the accept button.

Four cameras came to life. The champagne was already opened, and Trudy was already on her knees. She held Damon’s shaft, engulfed it in her mouth, then took it out again, her spit glistening on the wide, dark as coal, shaft. Trudy’s beautiful white face, pretty ruby-red lips, and enormous cock almost made him cum without even touching himself.

Trudy’s head moved up and down as Damon leaned back and smiled. He put his hands behind his neck, leaned back on the bed, and exhaled. The cock was a titan, an obelisk, far too large for Thomas’s wife, far too big for any human woman. Yet she took it deep in her mouth, determined, and Thomas watched as she accommodated more and more of it.

His own five inches swelled painfully in the cage. Thomas adjusted the monitor so that it would show all four angles at once: his wife’s hands on Damon’s waist; the cock’s path into Trudy’s mouth; the smirk of her pleasure and pride; the tower of his shaft before it disappeared down her throat.

In all four frames, Damon closed his eyes and gasped.

“Fuck,” Thomas whispered, his throat parched, his mouth dry. “Oh, fuck. Fuck-e-ty, fuck.”

He saw them. They were real. They were flesh and blood, one a god, the other a worshiper serving him.

Trudy pulled the cock almost entirely out, leaving just the massive head inside her mouth. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes widened. Her nostrils flared. The muscles in Damon’s neck went tense as his enormous shaft quaked, and his cum blasted in long, thick, gushing streams into Trudy’s mouth.

Thomas saw her filling to overflowing with the man’s seed. She pulled the shaft out of her mouth, opened it wide, and moved right up to the camera. She filled every pixel of the screen.

The display turned white with Damon’s cum, and Trudy swilled it down. Thoams saw her throat bulge as she swallowed again. Trudy opened her mouth another time and showed him her empty maw.

“Unlock your wittle pee-pee,” she told Thomas. Her tone was breezy and casual with a cold, cruel edge he loved so much.

He reached for the cage, then hesitated.

“Hurry up, honey-kins.”

Thomas unlocked the cage and bit his lip.

“But don’t jack it,” Trudy added, putting her face close to Damon’s, whispering in his ear, grinning at the camera, leaning in for a kiss. Somehow, when they kissed, it was more inmate than anything else.

Damon rolled on top of her, and Thomas watched as her body vanished under his. The man moved his lips down Trudy’s neck. Traced a trail from her collarbone to her breasts. Kissed his way down her stomach Stopping only when he reached her smooth-shaven cunt. She covered her face with her hands, and Trudy let a long, sensual moan slip to freedom for her husband’s ears.

Thomas could not see Trudy’s face, but he could imagine it. Her tongue would be flitting around her lips, her eyes rolling back, her body a tremor of pleasure. He held his cock with one hand and covered it with the other.

Even her hands covering her face thrilled him. Her long, slender fingers, delicate knuckles, and white perfection hid her eyes and mouth from him.

“Rember, Tommy, don’t jack it,” Damon said and then repeated. “Don’t, don’t.” Breathing his words into her clit, labia, and cunt.

Trudy lifted her legs, locked them around Damon’s neck, and moved her hips in a slow, rhythmic circle. Thomas knew her rhythms. He knew when she’d fuck his mouth, her second gasped groans of delight, the swelling pulse of her orgasm.

The headboard shook as she gasped, moaned, screamed. Trudy pulled her hands away from her face, arched her back, opened her eyes, and mouthed, “So, fucking good,” to the camera.

Damon brought his mouth back up to her nipples, kissing every inch, and still, he did not put his cock in her. Thomas fidgeted and fumbled for the mouse.

Damon finally slid his shaft inside, and Thomas watched the massive cock stretch Trudy’s opening in all four quadrants of the screen. She arched her back, and Damon held her legs above his shoulders. Thomas’s cock throbbed and swelled, but his fingers stayed still.

“Such a big man-sized cock. Fuck my tight, little, white pussy, lover,” Trudy whispered, breathy and excited.

“Fuck,” Thomas moaned, his breath shallow. “Fuck, oh fuck.” He jacked his hand over his wrist to keep from touching where she hadn’t allowed.

Damon and Trudy moved with abandon, an intimacy and a determination Thomas would never know. He watched every stroke and saw the cock splitting her from every angle. She closed her eyes, rolled her head, and shook under the man’s strength.

Thomas couldn’t keep himself from moving his hands in tiny, painful strokes over his raw wrist.

“Go on, cucky Tommy, jerk off now,” Trudy called out.

The screen went dark.

Thomas jacked off with three hard pumps. He came into his hand and on his stomach, barely touching his throbbing shaft, but he did not stop. He sat up, wiped the sweat from his neck, and watched the cum drip down his body.

“Don’t be disappointed,” he told himself. His voice was far, far too loud.

He jerked off again and again before Trudy returned to him, before she held him, before she asked if wittle cucky liked it.

“Yes,” he said, putting his cage back on.

“Well,” she said, “watch some more and do the nasties again.”

The screen filled with four views of them again.

Thomas opened the cage the way a priest opened his prayer book. Slowly, reverently, with devotion and purpose. He did not touch his own himself, not yet.

On-screen, Trudy and Damon were naked, close, intimate, everything he had hoped they’d be. Trudy kept the tempo of a favorite song, a hard-hitting dance remix, as her head bobbed up and down, up and down, while she blew her lover once more.

Thomas whispered his encouragement. “Oh fuck,” he said. “Oh God, oh yes.”

Trudy kept the pace. She moved her lips fast along the shaft, working, sucking, determined, relentless. He watched in awe as the cockhead vanished again, again, and again.

Her tempo increased as Damon tilted his head back and grunted. Her hands gripped the shaft, and she worked more of it into her mouth, deep down her throat, until Thomas saw her knuckles reach Damon’s body.

Her head kept moving up, down, up, down, up, down, and the bulge of the cock strained against her throat.

Thomas did not touch himself.

Her hand slipped from the shaft to Damon’s waist, and she took even more of the cock down her throat, straining, working to give him everything she had, determined to pleasure her lover. Her devotion filled the screen, and Thomas watched in utter, trembling, submissive awe.

“Oh fuck,” Damon whispered.

He saw the man’s lips move as his head leaned back, and Trudy swallowed more of the shaft. “Damn, girl,” he said, his eyes clenched in ecstasy.

“Fuck,” Thomas added, his voice dry, parched.

He saw the massive head of Damon’s cock plunge deep into Trudy’s throat, saw her suck harder, harder, harder, before the older man tensed and Thomas held his breath. His cock strained with denial, and Daman whispered his own prayer to their Goddess.

“Oh, Baby girl, oh fuck oh yes.”

Damon jerked, swore, groaned as he released a thick, rope-like torrent down Trudy’s throat, and she pulled back until the giant cockhead was just inside her mouth. Damon came and came, his muscular body convulsing and shaking as his balls emptied their load.

Thomas’s five inches sprang to life again.

Damon lifted Trudy on top of him, and she straddled his waist and kissed him hard. Her tongue explored his mouth the way her mouth had explored his cock.

“This girl can suck some dick,” Damon said, catching his breath.

“I love that about her,” Thomas whispered to himself. He watched them move on the bed and wondered if she’d let him eat the cum again.

“Think he loves a lot about me,” Trudy said, and she winked at the camera.

“Think so, too,” said Damon.

He rolled Trudy onto her back and slid down between her legs. Thomas saw her raise them high and wide, locking them around the older man’s neck. Damon spread her open with his tongue. Eating his cum from her.

Thomas marveled at how Damon knew Trudy’s body, how Trudy gasped and quaked and groaned with his lips on her cunt, how the older man stretched out her fantasies and pushed Thomas’s own denial to its limit.

His cock grew harder than he thought possible, and he wrapped a hand around it to keep himself from doing more.

Trudy came and came and came, long before Damon even touched her with his cock again. Thomas wondered how she could orgasm like that, what Damon did that drove her over the edge so quickly, and whether he would ever be able to fuck her like that man.

Her body thrashed under Damon’s weight as she came, and her hips bucked with an intensity that Thomas would never know. She wanted more, wanted it all, and Damon gave it to her. He ate her out, let her gasps become moans, let her moans become screams, let her screams become a thunderous, devastating climax, the first of many that night.

Her head rolled back, and Damon kissed his way from Trudy’s cunt to her lips, up her thighs, over her tits, between her shoulders.

“Love the way you eat this white pussy,” she said.

“Love eating it,” Damon said, kissing her mouth.

Thomas watched, yearned, and took in every touch, every thrust of Damon’s tongue, every move her black bull made. Every gasp and shudder, every arc of cum dripping down Trudy’s body.

He watched from all four angles. He couldn’t get enough.

Damon kissed Trudy’s stomach and chest, then moved back to her waist. He slid up inside her without hesitation, let her moist warmth engulf him, and Thomas held his breath again.

He watched the cock stretch Trudy, and Thomas’s cock pushed against his own hand, yearning with desperate need.

“Oh God,” Thomas whispered. “Oh, God, oh, fucking shit.”

Damon was inside her, holding her legs above his shoulders, and Thomas saw the expertise of his powerful, deep, skillful strokes. He could never match them, never match their intensity, never match her pleasure. He was devoted and selfless and utterly humiliated by how much he needed this, by how much they fulfilled him.

“Wittle cucky’s watching,” Trudy said. Her voice was so close. Thomas couldn’t tell if she was talking to Damon or to him.

“Think he likes it,” Damon said, grunting, driving, holding her against him.

Trudy gripped Damon’s muscular arms, held them tighter than she’d ever held Thomas, tighter than Thomas held his own shaft, as it swelled and pulsed and jerked.