SHE MAKES ME PAY By Throne After the first three months of our marriage, my wife June began to act strange. She went out in the evenings, two or three times a week. I knew she had several woman she was friends with, so when she said she was going shopping with them, or out for a drink, I didn't question it. At the same time, however, her appetite for sex dropped off to almost nothing. And when she did want it, her main interest was having me go down on her. I was soon horny all the time, desperate for the regular intercourse we used to have. Finally, after more than a month, I decided to confront her about it. That wasn't the easiest thing for me to do. I'm short and slender, which has always made me quiet and non-confrontational. Still, I had such a set of blue balls that I couldn't think of anything else. "June," I said, trying to keep emotion out of my voice. "It's, um, been weeks since we, er, had... relations." "You mean sex," she told me bluntly. "And it's been three weeks. At least, if you don't count all the times I've made you eat my pussy. Right?" I was too shocked to reply. At last I managed to say, "I guess that's correct. But, you know, I was just hoping we could..." "You were hoping you could screw me." She sighed loudly. "We can do that. Or I could just give you a blowjob. Or a handjob. How much do you want to spend?" "S... spend? What do you mean?" I asked with a sinking feeling. "Wellll, sweet little husband, all those nights I said I was going out with my girlfriends, I was really out turning tricks. I've been getting better sex than I ever had from your little dick, AND I get paid." "B... but... that's impossible." "Is it?" she said, getting up from the couch. "With this body?" My wife is short like me. She has a stunningly sexy figure, with extreme curves and, in contrast, a sweet angel face, framed by short auburn hair. "I... I meant..." My throat was tight with emotion. "June, I'm your husband. I love you." "Boo hoo," she said with no real pity. "You're my no-good-in-bed husband and what you love is my body, the same as my paying customers. So you can give me money, just like them. So what do you want? Screwing, a blow job, or just my hand on your tiny pecker?" Still in shock, I told her, "I want to make love to you." "That sounds like screwing to me. 200 bucks." "W... what? I mean, I shouldn't have to pay. And I don't have that much money right now." June shrugged. "50 for a handjob. Take it or leave it." "I..." Too eager for sex to say no, and too off balance to argue anymore, I dug my wallet out of my pants pocket and checked it. "I only have two twenties right now, but..." She sat back down. "Come here and give me my money, cheapskate." I stepped in front of her and meekly handed over the last of my cash. With businesslike movements she unzipped my fly and fished out my penis. In her soft hand it rose at once. She began stroking lightly to bring it to its full length. I had to admit that it wasn't very big, but until she had mentioned it, I'd never imagined it was an issue. As she continued her gentle manipulations she began to talk about her 'other customers' and how they were all bigger than me, 'especially in the cock department', and how much she got off on having them inside her. That was distracting but, at the same time, somehow stimulating. I didn't know what to think as I got closer to finishing. It felt sooooo good. Then, all at once, she stopped, pushed me back, and got up. "What's the matter?" I blurted out. "You didn't finish me. I'm... I didn't get to..." "Yeah, you didn't get to squirt your little squirt, which is funny because you usually shoot way too soon. But since you didn't pay me the full amount, you don't get the full treatment. Too bad for you, jerk. Hey, there's an idea. You can go sit on the toilet and jerk it yourself, jerk." She laughed as I stood there with my hard-on sticking out of my pants. Then she walked out of the room. As she vanished, she called back to me, "I have a date in an hour. Come help me get ready. Maybe that'll make me feel charitable toward you." Quickly stuffing my penis back into my clothes, I hurried after her. What was happening to me? I didn't have time to think about that because I was confronted by the image of my wife stripping. She made me help her out of her clothes, had me rub her shoulders and back, and then ordered me to wait in the bathroom with her while she showered. As she got out of the shower dripping wet I was again reminded of how attractive she is. June stepped into the large bath towel I held and let me rub her dry. I was totally aroused from doing that and once more my mind was clouded by the need that had become perpetual. She had me brush her hair, powder her, and help her dress. Of course, she could have done all that alone, but my wife seemed to enjoy tormenting me with the sight and closeness of her, and seeing how much it hurt me to be preparing her for sex with someone else. Worst, the thought of my bride prostituting herself, even if it was for her own pleasure, disturbed me deeply, which also pleased her, perhaps even excited her. I watched her apply make-up. She didn't need much, but used a lot anyway to give herself a sluttish appearance, which she explained her date would appreciate. As she put it, the more worked up she got him, the better he would screw her. I was sick. Our front doorbell rang and she instructed me to answer it. Dizzily I went to the livingroom and opened the door. Standing in front of me was a tall broad shouldered Black man wearing an expensive business suit. He glared down at me and said, "I'm hear to see June." When I tried to say something he simply brushed past me, nearly knocking me off my feet. He called her name and she answered merrily. My wife appeared at the top of the steps, very much in the role of seductive hooker. It chilled me to see that her 'John' could almost look up her short skirt and see the thong she wore instead of her usual cotton panties. She hurried down and rushed into his arms. He gave her a deep lingering kiss that left her limp. I suppose I just wanted not to have to see anymore of what they were doing so I said, "Aren't you going out now?" June gave me a twisted smile. "No, idiot. We're going to screw upstairs, on our marital bed. Do you have a problem with that?" Heartsick, but afraid of the huge powerful Black man, I could only shake my head. She hugged him passionately and they started up the steps. June glanced back at me and told me to follow them. I got to the bedroom only seconds behind the pair but already they were undressing each other. She made me remove her shoes. After she had her skirt and panties off, she made me hold them while she stepped back into them. Her top came off and she stood there in only heels, elastic-topped stockings, and her wedding ring. Making a show of it, she undressed her customer. He was as well built as I had supposed, with a bull neck and six pack abs. When she lowered his boxer shorts I was appalled to see that he was incredibly hung. By comparison I was a little boy. No wonder she didn't want me any longer. Maybe she never would. She told me I shouldn't be dressed while they were naked and ordered me to strip. Shamefaced, I did as I was told. As I stood by numbly, they got onto the bed and began foreplay. She had her pretty mouth all over his massive organ, bringing it rapidly to even larger dimensions. Then she whispered to him to stay on his back. Next she mounted him, lowering herself onto that huge penetrator, making guttural sounds and whimpering moans as she sank down onto it. When the entire thick length was inside her she began to ride it, up and down, grinding her bottom and licking her lips. The wanton display enflamed him and he seized her hips, his dark skin contrasting with her fairness, to drag her down onto his shaft, at the same time thrusting upward. She gasped and threw back her head. After that he stayed in control, stabbing upward into her as she leaned forward and kept her hips elevated, until he had driven her to a pair of loud orgasms, her vocalizations peppered with praise for him and hurtful criticism of me. When at last she rolled off him I was trembling. And hard. They noticed and mocked me for getting aroused at the sight of my wife being taken by a superior lover. Then her customer looked at me and said, "Come on, boy, make yourself useful. Get your mouth between this pretty bitch's legs and clean up that big mess I left down there. DO IT!!!" Again I was too frightened to disobey. I knelt between my wife's thighs, where I had been spending so much bedroom time recently, lowered my head, and pressed my mouth to the creamy slime that coated and filled her womanhood. She snapped at me to 'eat that pussy' and both of them laughed again. I was utterly sickened but kept working at it, lapping up and swallowing everything. While I labored, the Black giant rolled close to her and gave June another soulful kiss. I almost started to weep. My wife had rejected me in favor of the Bull sharing our bed with her. *** That was three months ago. She has a regular clientele of half a dozen men, all of them Black. For 200 dollars they come to our home and screw her, along with enjoying the touch of her hands and mouth. She delights in it all and relishes counting their money in front of me, usually while kissing and thanking them. They call her whore and bitch and slut and she grins lasciviously, as if it was high praise. I haven't been allowed to have any sex with her, other than performing orally. One of the men even bought a chastity tube which she locked over my penis so I can't masturbate. My testicles hurt most of the time and I can't stop thinking about the sex I'm not permitted to have. June squanders most of the money she earns on fancy clothes and jewelry. She has even taken to wearing oversized gold hoop earrings, like those favored by many young Black women. She told me that she has a new customer booked and he will be bringing his Black girlfriend, for me to go down on her. My wife expects me to do a good job and then she'll start spreading the word that I'm available for any Black women who want that type of attention -- or anything else they desire from my mouth. For some reason I always get aroused by June's encounters. I can't help it and am deeply ashamed by my reaction, but it always happens. She pretends to get mad and slaps my face in front of her men. I have become an object of ridicule and derision for her and all of them. How much worse can my situation become? Knowing how much she enjoys my degradation, I'm certain it will become much, much worse. I must stop writing now. She has ordered me to produce this record but I have to take a break. One of her customers is here. This one is bringing two Black women who dance at a club he owns. As a treat they will both be waited on and orally served my me. June has hinted that they want to hurt and humiliate me, but hasn't said how they intend to do it. I dread to think what will occur tonight.