Blackman

If you are reading this from the internet, the story has a fairly happy ending. It will have been posted by the main character (male lead) after keeping his end of the agreement. "Make sure about the tan lines. If you don't get it done, I will." "You'd best plan on doing it." I said. I meant no disrespect, and he knew it. "Very well." he said as he left, closeing the door behind him. I shook my head, looking blankly at the doorway, and listening to his limo pull away. So casual, yet so business-like. The meeting was so brief, and efficient. I reflected on the major points he raised. He actually had a graphic `presentation' for me in the form of an illustrated memo that looked like a loose-leaf brochure. He was a rich man. A powerful man. One accustomed to having his way. And there seemed to be no end to his appetites or fetishes. One was tan lines. Sharp, high contrast tan-lines, no less. Another was size. His size. He was naturally well endowed. Yes, an African American. (He prefers to simply be called a black man. Fair enough, since his advertisement used the term: "Unusually well endowed black man seeks tan-lined, married white woman for full penetration. Substantial reward if accomplished...") I can't describe the connection details, but he approved of her picture and responded to my message in person. Despite his natural endowment, he wanted more. Much more. He employed a series of what he referred to as "revolutionary therapies" (including, but not limited to surgery) to enhance his genitalea to inhuman proportions. Comparison to a horse would be trite, but accurate. (I would not doubt that horse DNA was involved in the therapy) He achieved the desired effect. Perhaps more than desired. It was now practically impossible to mate with a human female. Awkward attempts have lead to serious problems, including near- death for the woman. His personal physician was able to save the girl, but she would not make any further attempts at any price. The doctor now claims to have perfected a combination of injections (some are similar to petocin) and electrode based muscle controls, which will enable an average sized woman to accommodate him. One key is cervical dilation. The uterus, and its tremendous capacity for storage, are essential to enable any woman to handle the monster. The illustrations for this subject looked like a twisted combination of hentai and medical textbook. "The doctor will, of course be present." He said. "This is necessary to manage the injections and current pulses safely, as well as see to any needs your wife may have. I must insist that there be no anesthesia, however. If it is employed, my needs will only be partially met. Compensation will be reduced by two thirds." "Agreed" I said, almost without thinking. I found myself mimicking his manner. Then he reminded me of the tan lines as he left. I thought he was a wacko. But when the day arrived, and I saw the tan lines in place on my wife, I decided he was justified in his enjoyment and insistence. Later that night, I slipped the capsule into her drink, as directed. She was catatonic within minutes. The car arrived as scheduled, and the driver helped me load her into the back seat. With blindfolds in place, we drove an impossible series of turns for about 40 minutes. A private jet finished the trip within an additional hour. It was just past midnight, with less than 6 hours available to get back home before I had to get the kids off to school, and head for work. (The kids are old enough to handle themselves, but no more about them.) As we took the final ride in his limo, I was wondering how he would have enough time to give her the tan he insisted on, and still have time to have his perverted way with her. I was also wondering if the capsule was a breech of the "anesthesia" clause. I would soon find out that he was not to be doubted, regarding his ability to make things turn out according to his wishes. My wife was stripped naked. Quite carefully, though not gently, stripped naked by 2 rather large men. Apart from a slight smile on each face, neither made any remarks. When finished, one held her in a standing position while the doctor administered another injection. "This will restore some of her motor skills, all of her sensory capabilities, but none of her memory or will-power." Within seconds, the brute that was holding her up by the armpits was able to release her. She was standing, albeit somewhat awkwardly, on her own. The chill in the room had no effect on her until now. She was growing goose bumps, and her nipples were becoming quite erect. The gaze of all 4 of the men in the room were fixed on this development when the doctor stepped forward with a tube of petroleum jelly. He applied this to her breasts with infinite care and precision. He spent more time than I thought was needed, and I said as much. "Although I am enjoying this, it is necessary to be quite complete and precise, since you were not able to provide the tan lines yourself." He replied. He then continued his artwork on her ass, crotch, and lower belly. With a cotton swab and ruler, he struck off lines of the salve at 1" increments, and seemed to be writing something next to every fifth line. After removing his slippery gloves, he donned a soiled lab coat and began to spray a yellowish foam onto her body. Every inch of her was covered, except the soles of her feet. After about 2 minutes this was all rinsed away with cold water. (Guess how I know it was cold.) She now had a very deep tan everywhere except where the salve had been applied. She looked incredible. Incredible in the literal sense. Unbelievably sexy, but almost unrecognizable as my wife. Here was a woman, who looked much like my wife. Her best assets (The 44DD's) now almost grotesquely exaggerated by the high contrast tan. And this strangely erotic ruler tattooed in white on her abdomen. I could clearly make out the number 20 just below her cleavage. I felt quite overwhelmed, and noticed that a stain had begun to spread at my zipper. I had actually orgasmed at this image of my wife and the thought of her being used so completely and so dangerously. As I was trying to find a way to hide the stain, I was handed a lab coat by one of the brutes (who was buttoning his coat to hide a similar stain). "Time to wash up." said the doctor, quite matter-of-factly. He demonstrated the appropriate scrubbing procedure, knowing that I insisted on being present. Then it had begun. By the time I had scrubbed, and donned the mask and gloves, they had positioned her onto the reclining chair. There was to be no foreplay. No preparation. No speech. The only introductory comment was spoken as my benefactor entered the room and gazed at his new toy. "Perfect... perfect." His shirt was off. His pants were off. I stared blankly at his cock. I had taken some time during our first meeting to gauge his bodily proportions. His height was similar to mine, but his arms (particularly his forearms) were a couple of inches longer than mine. From my current vantage, I could see that his cock was no shorter than his forearm, and slightly larger in diameter. Now I was scared. After he literally fucked my wife to death, what would stop him from doing away with both of our bodies, and sending out another advertisement when things cooled down? I had to hope he had no such plan, since there was nothing I could do about it. The brutes stood on each side of me to make sure I didn't interfere. But I was being permitted to watch. Even to touch her, if I wanted. If they had any sinister plans, why risk that? I decided to just try to enjoy this erotic nightmare. With no more lubricant than he gathered by rubbing that club across her shiny tits and belly, he began to penetrate. After a moment, he pulled back and plopped his fully erect 3rd leg on her belly. The tip reached to just below the tan line at her cleavage, obscuring the 20" mark. Woof. I wondered if it would bruise her heart! Then, with the additional oils gathered from the ruler marks, he began the onslaught again. His back muscles were flexing with the strain of cramming a small leg into a human cunt. Then the next injection went into her ass, and the electrodes were placed. Four of them, forming a diamond around her navel. I watched as his twitching python strained it way into her impossibly stretched cunt. I moved to stand at her side, not wanting to see if the skin around her labia tore from the brutal treatment. I reminded myself that 3 human babies had passed through the same opening, Even if they were going the other way. From my new position, I could actually see the outline of the hood of his cock-head spearing its way past the 10" mark before stopping. He drew several deep breaths and nodded at the doctor. A few buttons on the box at the other end of the electrode wires were pushed, and her belly began to contract in waves. He was dilating her cervix, and using her uterus and abdominal muscles to pull the black log deeper into her. It was incredible. I watched as the outline of his baseball bat raised a bulge along her belly, until his hips met her ass. They had done it. "Congratulations, sir. You are now a rich couple!" he said, catching his breath. "Glad to hear it. But you just made it inside. I expected you would want to cum." I said sheepishly. I couldn't believe my own words. I wanted to see him pump her guts full of his sperm. "Of course. Perhaps more than once" he said. I noticed that less than half an hour had elapsed since our arrival. He still had about 4 hours to work with, saving 2 for the return trip! Efficient. Brutally efficient. A few more buttons were pushed, and his face began to contort with pleasure. From what I could see, the good doctor was using the contraption to cause my wife's uterus to give the black man a blowjob! He began to shudder, and clutched her breasts. I remember being somewhat disappointed when he seemed to show no interest in fucking her. I mean actually sliding in and out. I guess I wanted to experience the reality of watching the impossible length emerge and disappear into her. Locked in deepest penetration, the view afforded me could simply be a `soft-core' fake screw flick. My wife looked like a drugged out nymphet with a potbelly. I excited myself by looking carefully at her face. "This is your wife! Look at her face! Almost expressionless. Furrowed brows, though. Mouth open. Tongue resting on her bottom teeth. He's not fucking her, though. Damn, why doesn't he screw her? He's just standing there." My thought-narrative continued. "Look at those tits! Awesome to begin with, but now. They're starting to move rhythmically! Is he finally fucking in and out? . No. Her body is just starting to . starting to `pulse'. The waves of movement from her electrode-covered gut are spreading to her chest. The contractions in her uterus are sucking on him so hard that her ribs are heaving with each draw." "Oh shit!" I hear him say. A quick glance at his face confirms that he is in the initial throws of orgasm. I noticed a mirror that had been placed perfectly for my benefit. When did that show up? I could see his behind. I could see her feet in the air, moving slightly with the same rhythmic pulses that had animated her tits. I could see his scrotum twitching, lifting, and falling. As it lifted, I could briefly see the impossibly stretched circumference of her opening. My mind reeled, trying to assemble the reality of the reflection and the sideways view of my impaled wife. The bulge in her abdomen changed. A larger lump had grown in the area that was a distinct outline of his cock hood. A humming sound that I had not noticed earlier stopped. The pulsing had stopped. He began to withdraw. I watched with awe as inch after slick inch of his veined log emerged from her, her labia distending with the meat as it withdrew as if to try to pull it back inside. He was slowly losing his erection. Before I could estimate its loss in size, my attention was drawn back to my wife's crotch by a popping sound. The kind of sound made when a wet finger is quickly plucked out from the mouth of a soda bottle, only deeper in tone, and louder. The sound was followed by the start-up of the humming noise I mentioned earlier. The pulsing started again, and more violently. Her chest heaved as if she was being defibrillated every couple of seconds. The massive contractions forced his juices back out of her like post-partum afterbirth! Three `glops' the size of my fist emerged in turn, each one looking like a partly melted scoop of ice cream. The humming stopped again, as did her convulsions. I noticed the black man scooping the glops up in his hands, and massaging them all over her body. Some was shoved back into her gaping cunt, some onto her belly, most onto her breasts. The contrast with her deep tan had me cumming again! After several minutes, the stuff had clarified and melted into her skin. He had also regained his erection. Completely. Perhaps more than before, if that was possible. One of the brutes leaned over to me, smiling. "He hasn't cum since his therapy. Your wife has just fucked a genetic virgin." Genetic freak virgin, I thought to myself, nodding in polite response. His massage had succeeded in shearing the electrodes from her belly. He looked at the doctor who responded with a shrug. He then placed his hands on the back of each of her thighs and began to slide himself into her again. As the head popped in, some of the clarified cum oozed back out around it. Slowly, he managed a few inches at a time. Much to my surprise, he seemed to breech the cervix fairly easily with a short, sharp buck of his hips. Then the final 10 or 11 inches went in as slowly as the first. The 20" mark was somewhat smeared during the massage, but I could guess that he was past it by over an inch. What about her lungs, I wondered. Where were they in this horse-fuck orgy? I could see that she was taking short, gasping, shallow breaths to stay alive. The furrows in her brow were deeper, and her eyebrows were knitted with pain. Otherwise, she had no expression at all. Then, her pupils dilated and her face relaxed. He was motionless, and looked at the doctor with some anxiety. "Start fucking her!" the doctor said. "NOW!" "If you pull out too quickly she'll prolapse and probably die! If you start pumping half strokes, you'll make her breathe!" The black man did as instructed. My heart was racing. He had killed her! Fucked my beautiful wife to a painful, perverted death! But no. She was breathing now. Each stroke was like a CPR compression. Her color returned, her breath in time to each fuck stroke. The mirror showed me what I had yearned for earlier. 21 inches of dinosaur dick thrashing in and out of her birth canal with 10 or 11 inch strokes. Her tits were heaving with each stroke. They remained like that for nearly 2 hours. TWO FUCKING HOURS! It was like some short 10 second movie loop playing over and over. After the first half hour he slowed slightly, and we were all relieved to see her breathing on her own. At about 90 minutes, however, she seemed to be regaining consciousness. Full consciousness. She began to moan and move her arms and legs as if to resist. The pain kept her in enough of a daze that she never fully came to. She began to do the "natural birth breathing" that we had been taught nearly 20 years ago. In her delirium, she must have concluded that she was having a baby. No doubt she felt like she was in labor. The mirror showed me something I was not prepared for, although I had stopped being surprised by this outfit. His stroke length had increased such that he withdrew completely, each time. And each time, his cock-head paused an inch or so from the gaping opening. During each pause, a forceful jet of load splashed into her womb, plunged to full depth by the next stroke, only to be ejected at the next out-stroke. He was ankle deep in a gelatinous pile of his own fluids. The mass on the floor must have been greater than his own body weight! There was now a clear tube leading to a needle that disappeared into his scrotum! The tube was connected at the other end to a vat that must have a capacity of several hundred gallons. For nearly an hour, he had been pumping stored sperm into my wife! I hadn't discovered this until now. I didn't ask for an explanation of when, why, or how the man was connected to this vat. I didn't really need one. It seemed clear enough to me that he had arranged to indefinitely prolong his sensation of delivering his cum into her. It must have met his expectations, because he kept going and going. Then, a low pitched buzzer sounded, with a kind-voiced warning that the vat was down to 15% full. He immediately withdrew completely, and pulled my wife's legs into a criss-cross, by holding her feet with his opposite hands, and pulling them over between them. His vast cock, still pumping away, slid between her crossed thighs and calves and along her belly. He continued to blast away, sliding back and forth, until she looked like a "Malibu Barbie" under a half ton of sperm. As it spilled onto her belly and chest, it ran down her sides and piled up on the rack she was laying on. As the thick fluid accumulated at her sides, it could no longer run off from her belly and chest. By the time the vat was empty, she looked like a full body bukake target for a stadium full of men. It was without a doubt, the most erotic image of her I could ever have imagined. And it was right there, in front of me, in 3-d real time, going on and on. My own juices were flowing down the inside of my pant leg from the several orgasms I had had as a passive observer. The black man backed into a waiting robe, removed the clear hose from behind him, and disappeared behind a curtain. The doctor asked us to back away a few steps, and an overhead shower quickly rinsed my wife as the rack tilted to permit drainage from within her, as well as around her. A spray nozzle was brought to bear so as to douche her with 30 or so gallons of solution. The effect was amazing. She began to contract. Labia, tummy and all. Within 15 or 20 seconds, she was clean and had returned to her normal size (at least from outward appearances. Another injection, and she was completely out. Less than 90 minutes later, I was putting her back into bed. I caught about 90 minutes of sleep before the alarm woke me. I was quite surprised I could sleep at all. I called her at lunch from work to see how she was. All was well! She had no recollection, other than a strange dream about having another child. "Weird." I said somewhat nervously. "Yea. Weird." She said, and quickly moved on to discussing what we might want for dinner. It has taken me about 8 days to write this in a way that best represents my most accurate memory of the events that night. Part of the deal with the black man was to e-mail this story to him for any editorial adjustments prior to his posting the story on the internet. He would use it for reference in any future advertisements for willing subjects. As a rule he does not intend to "re-visit" any of his conquests, and would certainly not compensate them a second time. If he presents this story to you in person, I will say only this as an endorsement: Breaking with tradition, he sent me another capsule in an envelope with a new ICQ number. Understanding that there is no money in it, I plan to put the capsule in her drink tomorrow night. The kids will be with their cousins for the whole weekend. I hope he has the vat re-filled by then! Sincerely, Husband By the time this story is posted, the above mentioned weekend will have passed, without any problems. Yes, I did sent him another capsule, despite my original policy. By now, `Husband' is also aware that the second capsule was a placebo, and the `wife' was in on it from the beginning. You should have seen the look on his face when she started responding to me on our second session. He simply said, "I should have known." as he opened his zipper and stuffed her mouth with his cock while I continued to do her. The 3 of us had quite a weekend. Regards, The black man 6060 1.35/512345