I looked for my wife from the top of the steps with the sound of crickets ringing aloud. I could see a couple of men drunkenly staggering along the side walk and a prostitute giving a man a blowjob behind a dumpster.
My heart sank. “Where did she run off too?” I mumbled as I hurried down the steps. The party punch combined with the toxic marijuana smoke had caused me to black out for a few minutes.
I spent several more minutes roaming around the outside of the building looking for her. I tried to ignore the pair of ladies who seemed to be amused at my plight.
“What’s the matter, haven’t you ever seen a man looking for his wife,” I yelled toward them.
“You a cookie,” one of the ladies answered.
“Yo wife done cooked yo sorry ass,” the other lady laughed.
I had no clue what they were saying. I reasoned they were high on drugs but felt it best to try and find my wife.
Disappointed, I dragged my tired body back up the steps. “Perhaps they went to pick something up at the corner market,” I panted.
Suddenly several thugs began to pour out of the building. They were laughing and joking.
“Yo, gotta light dawg?” one of them holding a joint between his fingers stopped to ask me.
“I’m sorry, I don’t smoke. Have you by chance seen my wife?”
“Don’t smoke? What kinda man don’t smoke?” He replied as he stumbled away.
“BITCH WON’T WALK RIGHT FOR A WEEK.” A crude remark rang out.
All of them broke into a laugh. Their eyes were gleaming like wolves.
“VIC DONE RESIZED HER, DAWG,” another brute answered.
They were highfiving each other and laughing at their crude banter.
"She's officially OPEN for big gangtsa cock now!" One of them barked.
I was annoyed with their disrespectful language even if it was regarding a prostitute.
One of the young men staggered up to me and poked a finger in my chest. “Hey…. Dawg…you supposed to be in your white suburban home.”
The rough hoodlums directed their drunken attention toward me.
“I...I'm looking for my wife.” I replied.
"You lost yo wife in da hood, bro," One of them asked.
"I passed out from the punch and when I awoke, she was gone," I was ashamed and felt like a wimpy husband.
"Oh, yeah...I saw Shantel take you into a bedroom." The remark caused them to grin.
"You got yourself ***** by Shantel." Another hood said causing the group to cackle.
"Yeah, that Shantel has it bad for white boys," another voice announced.
"Please don't say anything to my wife about me and Shantel." I said feeling three feet tall.
"What happens in da hood, stays in da hood." a voice rang out.
“She… be… inside da house…eatin cake.” One of them slurred.
I hurried to enter the building. When I stepped inside, to my amazement, the music had been turned down to a reasonable level.
I made my way to the kitchen and to my delight I found her. She was indeed eating a bite of birthday cake with Shantel and Glenda.
I waked up to her not saying a word and threw my arms around her pulling her safely into my body.
“There you are,” her eyes glazed at me.
My wife was a wonderful sight for my sore eyes. Despite her messed up hair, smeared eye shadow, and missing lipstick, she looked beautiful.
She gave my cheek a kiss.
I noticed her skirt and blouse was soiled. She had a foul odor and I realized she had been dancing and spilled the nasty fruit punch all over herself. I figured we all likely smelled of armpits, sweat, and ass.
“Have some birthday cake hon.” Shantel handed me a small paper plate with a square piece of strawberry cake with orange icing.
“Yo wife is da best. She gave me da best birthday gift.” Shantel said with a chuckle.
My wife giggled and took a bite of cake. Her eyes were bloodshot and glazed past me. She smiled at someone over my shoulder and licked icing from her lips.
“Girl, I can’t wait for my birthday surprise,” Glenda said causing the ladies to howl.
I wasn’t sure what they were laughing about. I didn’t recall my wife bringing a gift to the party for Shantel but I wasn’t in the mood for questioning. I devoured the cake suddenly ravenous hungry.
“Happy birthday Shantel,” I said while giving her a foreboding look.
“Best birthday gift I ever got. Yo wife is da best,” Shantel answered handing me another piece of cake.
“Well, it’s been a swell party but we should probably be getting back home,” I said.
We bid Shantel and Glenda goodnight and left the party to return to our safe and quiet suburban home.
As we walked to our car, my wife had a noticeable limp.
“You okay, you seem to have a hitch in your giddyup.” I remarked.
“Oh, I think I pulled a thigh muscle wearing these silly pumps,” she answered while kicking them off to carry them. Suddenly she was her usual five foot four inches tall and continued to walk gingerly.
When we got into the car it hit me like a punch from Terrance’s big powerful fist to the gut. My wife was truly a faithful and trustworthy and I was the luckiest man in the world.
“Honey,” I said as I started the car.
“Yes dear,” she answered.
I reached to caress her luscious thigh protruding from her tight short skirt. Her inner thigh appeared to have finger print bruises but I figured the light in the dark night was playing tricks.
“When we get home, I’d like to, you know…it’s been a while.” I said hoping she’d agree since it had been so long.
“Darling, I’m extremely worn out from the party.” Her hand reached to caress my face.
“You know, I had a bad attitude before I met your co-workers but now I’ve come to appreciate them.” I said.
“You’re my foolish sweetheart,” she answered.
Somehow it seemed I had heard those words before but I couldn’t quite place where and when.
I smiled with relief, all was well. My wife was ******* I had sex with the birthday girl, Shantel, and nothing bad happened with my wife being among the hoodlums.
I rolled down my window attempting to bring fresh air into the car. A pungent odor was constantly assaulting my senses. I couldn’t figure out what happened to the sweet fragrance of my wife’s perfume.
“I feel a bit sorry for the hooker being gang banged in the bedroom.” I stated.
I could see my wife’s eyebrows shoot upward. “It was shameful and deplorable. I can’t imagine what those big black cocks did to her,” my wife answered while giving me a wild expression.
“You know for a minute there I was afraid it might have been you in that room,” I admitted.
She looked at me with her bloodshot eyes big as saucers. “Oh, Harold don’t be so clueless.?”
“I know, shame me for thinking such horrible thoughts. I know you’d never cheat on me and besides, I know white married women find black men undesirable.”
My wife gave me a knowing smile and sighed. “When we get home, I’d like to sit on your face.” She opened her legs and dropped her hand to her crotch causing me to nearly drive off the road.
She tilted the seat back so that she could pull her left knee up by propping her foot on the console. The scene of her open legs was causing me to swell with excitement.
“Uhm, sure,” I agreed to do the deed though I detested when she sat on my face.
“I don’t want intercourse, you can jack yourself off while you lick me.” She said.
It seemed I was always licking her pussy. “We should take a bath before we do anything.” I suggested.
“No, I’d prefer to sit on your face first then I want to take a long hot bath.” She replied.
"I'd be happy to lick your pussy," I lied.
“George,” She said with a terse tone.
“Yes honey.”
There’s something I need to make you aware of.” Her sharp voice was all business.
The tone of her voice concerned me. It was the tone of voice when she felt it necessary to scold me. The same tone she used when she explained to me she no longer enjoyed intercourse. The same tone she used when explaining she’d not be home until the next day on girl’s night out.
“What’s bothering you dear,” I inquired.
“There’s a young man from work that needs a place to stay. I took it upon myself to offer him a room in our home until he gets his life in order.” She explained matter of fact.
I swallowed hard. “I suppose we have plenty of room. We have a large house, more than we know what to do with.”
“He’ll move in tomorrow.” She answered.
“But, I…tomorrow is too soon.” My voice turned to a high pitch. “When will we make love with him around?” I whined.
“Patience, darling. Let’s be charitable with what we have and not be so consumed with carnal pleasures.” She answered.
“What’s his name?” I inquired.
“Terrance,” she answered with a devilish smile.
My heart sank, I had my work cut out for me. Teaching that rogue thug manners among proper suburban women would prove challenging.
Thankfully my wife could hold her own with the hardest and meanest in the hood.
**************
Marco Lease has many hot erotic stories on Kindle.
For my author page on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/marcolease
My heart sank. “Where did she run off too?” I mumbled as I hurried down the steps. The party punch combined with the toxic marijuana smoke had caused me to black out for a few minutes.
I spent several more minutes roaming around the outside of the building looking for her. I tried to ignore the pair of ladies who seemed to be amused at my plight.
“What’s the matter, haven’t you ever seen a man looking for his wife,” I yelled toward them.
“You a cookie,” one of the ladies answered.
“Yo wife done cooked yo sorry ass,” the other lady laughed.
I had no clue what they were saying. I reasoned they were high on drugs but felt it best to try and find my wife.
Disappointed, I dragged my tired body back up the steps. “Perhaps they went to pick something up at the corner market,” I panted.
Suddenly several thugs began to pour out of the building. They were laughing and joking.
“Yo, gotta light dawg?” one of them holding a joint between his fingers stopped to ask me.
“I’m sorry, I don’t smoke. Have you by chance seen my wife?”
“Don’t smoke? What kinda man don’t smoke?” He replied as he stumbled away.
“BITCH WON’T WALK RIGHT FOR A WEEK.” A crude remark rang out.
All of them broke into a laugh. Their eyes were gleaming like wolves.
“VIC DONE RESIZED HER, DAWG,” another brute answered.
They were highfiving each other and laughing at their crude banter.
"She's officially OPEN for big gangtsa cock now!" One of them barked.
I was annoyed with their disrespectful language even if it was regarding a prostitute.
One of the young men staggered up to me and poked a finger in my chest. “Hey…. Dawg…you supposed to be in your white suburban home.”
The rough hoodlums directed their drunken attention toward me.
“I...I'm looking for my wife.” I replied.
"You lost yo wife in da hood, bro," One of them asked.
"I passed out from the punch and when I awoke, she was gone," I was ashamed and felt like a wimpy husband.
"Oh, yeah...I saw Shantel take you into a bedroom." The remark caused them to grin.
"You got yourself ***** by Shantel." Another hood said causing the group to cackle.
"Yeah, that Shantel has it bad for white boys," another voice announced.
"Please don't say anything to my wife about me and Shantel." I said feeling three feet tall.
"What happens in da hood, stays in da hood." a voice rang out.
“She… be… inside da house…eatin cake.” One of them slurred.
I hurried to enter the building. When I stepped inside, to my amazement, the music had been turned down to a reasonable level.
I made my way to the kitchen and to my delight I found her. She was indeed eating a bite of birthday cake with Shantel and Glenda.
I waked up to her not saying a word and threw my arms around her pulling her safely into my body.
“There you are,” her eyes glazed at me.
My wife was a wonderful sight for my sore eyes. Despite her messed up hair, smeared eye shadow, and missing lipstick, she looked beautiful.
She gave my cheek a kiss.
I noticed her skirt and blouse was soiled. She had a foul odor and I realized she had been dancing and spilled the nasty fruit punch all over herself. I figured we all likely smelled of armpits, sweat, and ass.
“Have some birthday cake hon.” Shantel handed me a small paper plate with a square piece of strawberry cake with orange icing.
“Yo wife is da best. She gave me da best birthday gift.” Shantel said with a chuckle.
My wife giggled and took a bite of cake. Her eyes were bloodshot and glazed past me. She smiled at someone over my shoulder and licked icing from her lips.
“Girl, I can’t wait for my birthday surprise,” Glenda said causing the ladies to howl.
I wasn’t sure what they were laughing about. I didn’t recall my wife bringing a gift to the party for Shantel but I wasn’t in the mood for questioning. I devoured the cake suddenly ravenous hungry.
“Happy birthday Shantel,” I said while giving her a foreboding look.
“Best birthday gift I ever got. Yo wife is da best,” Shantel answered handing me another piece of cake.
“Well, it’s been a swell party but we should probably be getting back home,” I said.
We bid Shantel and Glenda goodnight and left the party to return to our safe and quiet suburban home.
As we walked to our car, my wife had a noticeable limp.
“You okay, you seem to have a hitch in your giddyup.” I remarked.
“Oh, I think I pulled a thigh muscle wearing these silly pumps,” she answered while kicking them off to carry them. Suddenly she was her usual five foot four inches tall and continued to walk gingerly.
When we got into the car it hit me like a punch from Terrance’s big powerful fist to the gut. My wife was truly a faithful and trustworthy and I was the luckiest man in the world.
“Honey,” I said as I started the car.
“Yes dear,” she answered.
I reached to caress her luscious thigh protruding from her tight short skirt. Her inner thigh appeared to have finger print bruises but I figured the light in the dark night was playing tricks.
“When we get home, I’d like to, you know…it’s been a while.” I said hoping she’d agree since it had been so long.
“Darling, I’m extremely worn out from the party.” Her hand reached to caress my face.
“You know, I had a bad attitude before I met your co-workers but now I’ve come to appreciate them.” I said.
“You’re my foolish sweetheart,” she answered.
Somehow it seemed I had heard those words before but I couldn’t quite place where and when.
I smiled with relief, all was well. My wife was ******* I had sex with the birthday girl, Shantel, and nothing bad happened with my wife being among the hoodlums.
I rolled down my window attempting to bring fresh air into the car. A pungent odor was constantly assaulting my senses. I couldn’t figure out what happened to the sweet fragrance of my wife’s perfume.
“I feel a bit sorry for the hooker being gang banged in the bedroom.” I stated.
I could see my wife’s eyebrows shoot upward. “It was shameful and deplorable. I can’t imagine what those big black cocks did to her,” my wife answered while giving me a wild expression.
“You know for a minute there I was afraid it might have been you in that room,” I admitted.
She looked at me with her bloodshot eyes big as saucers. “Oh, Harold don’t be so clueless.?”
“I know, shame me for thinking such horrible thoughts. I know you’d never cheat on me and besides, I know white married women find black men undesirable.”
My wife gave me a knowing smile and sighed. “When we get home, I’d like to sit on your face.” She opened her legs and dropped her hand to her crotch causing me to nearly drive off the road.
She tilted the seat back so that she could pull her left knee up by propping her foot on the console. The scene of her open legs was causing me to swell with excitement.
“Uhm, sure,” I agreed to do the deed though I detested when she sat on my face.
“I don’t want intercourse, you can jack yourself off while you lick me.” She said.
It seemed I was always licking her pussy. “We should take a bath before we do anything.” I suggested.
“No, I’d prefer to sit on your face first then I want to take a long hot bath.” She replied.
"I'd be happy to lick your pussy," I lied.
“George,” She said with a terse tone.
“Yes honey.”
There’s something I need to make you aware of.” Her sharp voice was all business.
The tone of her voice concerned me. It was the tone of voice when she felt it necessary to scold me. The same tone she used when she explained to me she no longer enjoyed intercourse. The same tone she used when explaining she’d not be home until the next day on girl’s night out.
“What’s bothering you dear,” I inquired.
“There’s a young man from work that needs a place to stay. I took it upon myself to offer him a room in our home until he gets his life in order.” She explained matter of fact.
I swallowed hard. “I suppose we have plenty of room. We have a large house, more than we know what to do with.”
“He’ll move in tomorrow.” She answered.
“But, I…tomorrow is too soon.” My voice turned to a high pitch. “When will we make love with him around?” I whined.
“Patience, darling. Let’s be charitable with what we have and not be so consumed with carnal pleasures.” She answered.
“What’s his name?” I inquired.
“Terrance,” she answered with a devilish smile.
My heart sank, I had my work cut out for me. Teaching that rogue thug manners among proper suburban women would prove challenging.
Thankfully my wife could hold her own with the hardest and meanest in the hood.
**************
Marco Lease has many hot erotic stories on Kindle.
For my author page on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/marcolease
