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. The Letterman Jacket

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by dig420, Dec 22, 2016.

. The Letterman Jacket 5 5 4votes
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  1. dig420

    dig420 HMFIC Staff Member Administrator

    by Throne

    Blond-haired Pete was strutting along one of the halls in Grass Point School, a small Detroit college. He took energetic strides, projecting a picture of self-confidence. Some people thought that was odd, because he was short and physically unimpressive. He had a soft face and large blue eyes which were framed by long pale lashes. Plenty of the female students thought his attitude was odder still, because he wasn't much of a ladies man, though he ogled them when he thought they weren't looking. He did have a girlfriend of sorts, though she seemed less than fully committed to their relationship. More on her later.

    At the moment he was heading for the student store. There was a Dutch door, the top half of which was opened. Behind it, minding the store, a small space lined with shelves, was a bored looking student who worked there for the small amount that would be deducted from his tuition for doing that job.

    Striking a cocky pose, narrow shoulders back and weak chin tilted up, Pete said, "Hey, I ordered a letterman jacket. It should be in by now." When the guy didn't respond, Pete added, "I already paid for it."

    Rolling his eyes, the clerk informed him, "You have to give me your name, you know. So I can check for it."

    Pete lowered his gaze, feeling foolish. But then he brought it back up as he drew more attitude from a seemingly bottomless well of it. He gave his name and went on, "I qualified for a letter."

    "So did everybody else who went out for a team." Then, sounding like he was just making conversation by reflex, he asked, "Football? Basketball?" His gaze was skeptical, considering Pete's small frame and limited stature. Picking a more likely possibility he said, "Baseball?"

    With a shuffle of his feet, Pete told him, sounding a bit defensive, "Tennis. Which requires a lot of energy."

    The clerk turned his back, was gone longer than Pete thought he should be, and finally returned with a jacket in a clear plastic bag. He asked for Pete's receipt and, when Pete said he didn't have it, the guy gave him a condescending stare.

    "Well," the clerk considered out loud. "It IS paid for. And I don't guess anybody would try to snatch your jacket. It's kind of small. And the letter's for tennis." He eyed Pete, as if daring him to respond.

    When the customer swallowed his pride and just put out his hands, the clerk tossed him the jacket. Pete fumbled it, then grabbed it and hugged it to his chest, turned his back and walked off, muttering darkly. The clerk smirked after him.

    Minutes later Pete had the jacket on and was his typical swaggering self again. No one took any special notice of him so he decided to head down to the campus tennis courts and let some of his fellow players see it. Maybe some members of the female team would be there. He wouldn't mind checking out a few of them, in their sleeveless tops and short-short skirts. As she turned a corner and came in sight of his destination, he was gratified to see Juno and Tyra there. They were practicing against each other and he paused to get a better look.

    The two of them were tall, quite athletic, with well developed legs, and Black. They both wore their hair natural, short on top and shaved almost to the skin lower down, in what was called a 'fade'. Their strong cheekbones and plump lips gave them an exotic look that made him lustful. He watched their legs pump, the muscles of their thighs sheened with perspiration, their calves shapely and rock hard. He enjoyed the sights for a few more moments and then, as they took a break, sauntered toward them.

    "Oh, damn," Juno said to her friend. "Here comes Mr. Wonderful."

    "God's gift to women," Tyra amplified. "Who I'm sure has been eating us up with his eyes."

    "But at least he's a terrific tennis player."

    "Not. The only one who thinks that is him. The loser has to work hard just to be average."

    "Low average," Juno concluded as Pete got almost close enough to hear them.

    "Hey, girls," Pete called. "Want a few pointers?"

    "Really? From you?"

    "Me or any guy. We're naturally better than girls right from the word 'go'. Correct?"

    "Um... no." Juno cocked her hip and slapped her racket against her open hand.

    "Well," Pete said, holding up his own racket, which he had picked up from the locker room, "you can believe whatever makes you happy."

    "I can do more than believe it, boy. I can prove it. You wants to play a few sets?"

    "Against you?"

    "Or Tyra. We'll even let you pick who you want to beat you."

    Pete thrust out his lower lip, trying to look defiant but coming across more as pouty. He insisted, "I could take either one of you without even trying."

    "I don't think you could TAKE her or me. And I know you couldn't beat us in tennis, either. But if you wanna try, against a sister..."

    She let the challenge hang in the air. He had been stung by being called 'boy'. And thought it was arrogant for her to bring up the 'sister' identification.

    "Sure," he said. Mentally calculating which would be easiest to defeat, but seeing them as equals, he said, "I'll play Tyra." His choice was mostly to annoy Juno.

    "Right," said the other girl, stepping close to him.

    OMG, she was hot looking. His desire took control of his thinking for the moment.

    She said, "But let's make it more fun. How about if, after you beat me, you can make me do whatever you want?"

    He nearly swallowed his tongue in shock. Pete took a deep breath and, trying to remain calm, agreed, "That'll be fine. Whatever I want, hmmm?"

    "Whatever. And naturally, if you lose, I get to have you do whatever I say. Sound fair?"

    He hadn't fully considered that angle of it. Shifting his feet around, he said less forcefully, "Right. Of course."

    Tyra trotted onto the court and easily vaulted the net. She landed with catlike grace and took her position. Feeling less certain about himself, Pete shed his jacket and made a little show of draping it over the back of a folding chair on the sidelines. Juno set her round muscular ass on the chair next to it. She parted her legs, giving him a good look at plenty of flesh, along with a hint of what waited between her thighs. He wondered how far he could press Tyra to go if he won. Or rather, he silently corrected himself, WHEN he won.

    Pete swung is racket through the air a few times. He had on running shoes and loose bermudas, along with a short-sleeved shirt, so there was no need for him to change. He rolled his shoulders and bounced to loosen up his leg muscles. Tyra took a wide-legged stance and her friend threw her a tennis ball, which she caught. Pete's opponent bounced the ball a few times, locked eyes with him, threw the yellow sphere into the air, and smacked it hard on its way down, sending it rocketing toward him, just above the top of the net, and far enough to the side that he had to race to intercept it. He barely managed to smack it back toward her, without being able to place the shot.

    She returned it and the volleying commenced. Pete had trouble keeping up and had to chase after every return. Soon he was panting, while Tyra appeared much more relaxed than when she had been playing against the other gorgeous Amazon. All too soon Pete missed one of her shots and stumbled as he did so. From her seat, Juno laughed out loud, distracting him. He was sweating freely already. Tyra fired off again and he missed it completely. She maintained control of the game, with him occasionally gaining a point, though it could be argued that she was allowing that, just to keep him playing and exhausting himself.

    Always a little bit behind, he huffed and puffed and tried to ignore Tyra's casual attitude and Juno's occasional encouragements to her, like "You're beatin' the pants off that white boy, honey" and "Don't hurt him too bad, sistah". Blinking perspiration out of his burning eyes, Pete tried to close the gap between their scores, but she always held her lead. It went on and on, with him beginning to dread what might happen if he lost. At last, his legs starting to feel rubbery, he missed several points in a row, which was deeply humiliating, and she won.

    "Well how about that," Juno said mockingly. "The Champ turns out to be The Chump. And now he has to settle up on that deal he made with us."

    Pete thought about his ill-considered bet and felt sick inside. He retrieved his prized jacket and put it back on, as if it might protect him. The girls each took him by an elbow and marched him away, back toward the locker rooms. Once they had him inside the building they steered him to the women's area. He tried to protest but they just laughed at his stammering attempts to renegotiate. At the door they had to wrestle him in, but once he was there and a feeling of helplessness settled over him, he stopped resisting.

    Juno crossed her arms under her ample bust. She said, "There's all kind of stuff we could make The Tennis King here do. Like maybe giving us both a foot rub."

    Tyra put a foot up on one of the low benches. "Or put him in the shower all naked and keep him there until the next gym class arrives..." She consulted her watch. "In about twenty minutes."

    He looked desperately from one of them to the other, hoping for a sign of clemency, or a clue that they were just joking, but neither of those appeared. Instead, Juno told him to get out of his letterman jacket. Then Tyra said he should remove his shoes and socks. Intimidated by their size and physicality, he did what he was told. Pete stood there in his shirtsleeves, fidgeting. Juno reached out and began to undo the buttons below his collar. His hands came up automatically to stop her but, at the last second, he froze. She waited long enough to give him a chance if he was going to make the attempt and, when he didn't, resumed unbuttoning his shirt. When that was done, Tyra worked the garment back and off his shoulders. Juno undid his shorts and lowered his fly. Tyra stepped in to pull them down to his ankles. With his shoes already off, it was simple for him to get out of them the rest of the why when he was ordered to.

    Pete stood there in just his jockey shorts and pulled-back shirt. The girls gave his crotch evaluating looks, obviously seeing what a small bump is equipment made down there. Pete had often gone into denial about his undersized genitals. At that moment he had to confront the reality of having a small dick and balls to match. The girls snickered and Juno hooked her fingers under the elastic waistband. Tyra put her hands on his shoulders and gripped them tightly. He whimpered as the first girl yanked down his underpants. Both of them laughed out loud at what was revealed.

    "Day-am," Juno marveled. "Ain't hardly nothin' there. Any smaller and it'd be a I-don't-know-what. Like maybe a peanut."

    "But it's bigger than a peanut. More like my pinky finger. And really pink, like he is all over."

    "Pink and white. And so smooth. Aren't guys supposed to have some body hair? I mean besides that little bit of fuzz below his belly button." Juno put her hand under his chin and made him look at her. "Ain't that right, Snowflake?"

    "Y... yes, Ma'am," he answered without thinking.

    "And now Mr. Dickless is ready to do whatever us big bad Black girls tell him to. Right?"

    "I... I... suppose."

    "Suppose I swing my foot at those baby balls. Suppose I put you over my knee and spank you like a naughty boy."

    "N... no. Please don't."

    "Then don't 'suppose' me. I want to hear another 'Yes, Ma'am'. So I'll ask you again. Are you gonna do what we tell you, boy?"

    "Y... yes, Ma'am."

    "That's better. And what I'm thinkin' is that you should lose those shorts the rest of the way and put on one of our skirts. One of our short, itty-bitty skirts, that you like so much when they're on us."

    "Yeah," seconded the other girl. "A teeny tiny skirt with nothin' on under it. So if there's a breeze, ever-body on the street might get to see that nothin' you got where a cock should be."

    They laughed as he bent to pull his shorts down the rest of the way and stepped out of them. They moved up close to him and told him that they weren't really mean, just having fun. To show how friendly they could be, the two of them, still clothed, got his naked form between them and gave him a double hug. When they rubbed themselves against him, he couldn't help getting erect. They stepped back and saw how small his erection was. Both of them pointed and laughed. They made several cutting insults before they at last stopped.

    When he was handed a skirt from one of their lockers, he mewled a sound of protest but still accepted the small piece of fabric, wrapped it around his waist, pulled up the side zipper, and closed the top fastening. Then they handed him back his precious letterman jacket and he got his arms into it. When he tried to zip it up, however, they forbade that. What they did do was to find a towel that had been used and thrown into the dirty laundry basket. It was still damp and smelled like some feminine soap.

    "Go on, super stud. Get that around you and down there and maybe nobody'll notice that you're wearing a skirt."

    They guffawed at his quivering lower lip and his sniffling. Then they pushed him to the door and out. That next gym class was just beginning to arrive. Three girls stopped and went wide-eyed at the sight of a guy being ejected from their locker room. When they saw the two Black girls following him out they were relieved. Now they chuckled at the ridiculous sight of Pete in his coveted jacket, a towel, and nothing else that they could see. The two tennis players continued to shove him ahead of them and soon he was outside.

    "B... but..." Pete said in alarm. "I have to go back and get my pants. My wallet and keys and everything are in them."

    "Don't you got anything in your cool jacket?"

    He patted himself down. "My phone!"

    "Well, there you go. Just call somebody to come and get you."

    "I can't. Not like this." He certainly wasn't going to reveal his predicament to his girlfriend Darla.

    "Then have a real good walk back home. Where do you live? In the dorms?"

    "No. I have an apartment off campus. It's over a mile away."
    "Poor baby. But hey, the exercise'll do you good."

    Under their glaring stares, he slunk away and headed for the edge of campus. Everyone who saw him looked on with open curiosity and amusement. He kept checking to see if the bottom of the skirt was peeking out. As he left the campus behind he had an idea. There was a shortcut he could take. Sure, that was it. His spare key was in a key keeper that opened with a private code. He was going to be okay.

    As Pete hurried along, he noticed more and more Black faces on the street. That couldn't be avoided, as his adjusted route took him through a less prosperous neighborhood, one that was home to some Asians, and even more Hispanics, but mostly to Black folks. He shivered as he turned into a narrow street. Several blocks ahead he could see where his path would take him into a better environment. All he had to do was to cross that distance. He was halfway there when a van pulled up to the curb alongside him. He tried to ignore it but it kept rolling forward, keeping pace with him.

    Suddenly an angry voice yelled at him, "Hey, boy, what are you doing in our hood? Why you got on that damn jacket? You tryin' to diss our team? You sayin' the Lions ain't no good? Huh? You ain't big enough to be on the team, so you must be the water boy or sumpin'."

    He turned his head to see a scowling Black face in the window of the van. Hugging himself, Pete said, "N... no, Sir. I didn't mean any d... disrespect."

    "Like hell you didn't mean no disrespect. I think maybe we ought to take you into the alley and learn you a lesson."

    "Pleeease," he wailed. "Don't hurt me."

    Someone else in the van said, "Let's take him back to the workout room, where we won't be in no hurry. We can take our time teachin' the fool."

    Suddenly there were tall muscular Black guys spilling out of the van. One of them who was over 200 pounds grabbed Pete from behind and pulled back his arms, rendering him helpless. Another scooped up his legs and the two of them carried him like he weighed nothing, to toss him into the back of their vehicle. He spotted sports jerseys lying around and realized they were football players. Somebody said something about his 'football jacket' and it struck him that they didn't know it was for tennis. He tried to explain but was told to shut up.

    "If you fellows would just let me talk..." was as far as his next attempt got.

    A wide Black hand, smelling of sweat and tobacco, was clamped over his mouth. It's owner hissed at him, "I hear one more peep out of you, Pinky, and you'll be wearin' my boot in our butt. Unnastan'?"

    Pete managed a slight nod. The powerful hand was removed and Pete leaned back, gaping up at all those threatening dark faces. The van drove for about ten minutes. He wasn't sure but he thought it was going further away from where he wanted to be. When it stopped and the back doors were thrown open, Pete was dumped out onto blacktop. He got unsteadily to his feet and looked around. They were in an even worse area and he was near a cinderblock building with the Lions' logo on in, alongside a metal door. He was hustled along to the entrance and taken inside. As the door closed with a clang of finality, someone grabbed his towel and yanked it away. He reached for it and squealed.

    "Shit. We got us a homo. Fairy's wearin' a skirt."

    An anonymous hand flicked it up in back and a faceless voice said, "With nothin' on underneath. Must a been cruisin' our hood for Black meat."

    Fear overcame caution and he dared to speak. "Nuh... no. I'm not g... gay." When they didn't seem to believe him, he insisted, "I've got a girlfriend."

    "What girlfriend? Some chick with a dick? You got some kind o' proof?"

    Luckily, Pete's mind didn't fail him. He brightened and told them, "I have her picture. Her name's Darla. Her picture's on my phone." He reached for his pocket and then asked, "May I get it out to show you?"

    "Yeah, you may get it out, honkey. Let's see this Darling or Daria or whoever."

    He fumbled the phone out and turned it on. Seconds later he was showing them her picture. They looked at her plump face, big bust, and wide hips. Pete glanced around at the exercise equipment and a few more Black athletes who had been in the room when they arrived. One of the guys crowding close to him, tall, good looking, and muscular, grabbed his wrist.

    "You got more pictures of her?" he wanted to know. "How about if you show ol' Javon what else you got in there."

    "Well, there are some others, but they're kind of private and..."

    Like a vise, Javon's grip crushed his wrist. Pete yelped. He used his free hand to scroll up some more photos. These ones were of Darla from behind, in slacks, showing off her wide round bottom. Javon whistled appreciatively.

    The hand on Pete's wrist loosened. Javon wondered out loud, "What's a wimp like you doin' with a sweet piece like her?"

    "You know, she's kind of... fat... and most guys don't like that."

    "So you got her because the other dudes said 'no' to that big booty."

    "I... guess." Pete had never thought of it that way.

    "She good in the sack?" When he didn't answer, Javon clarified, "She good in bed?"

    "Oh, I've never... I mean... We're not..."

    "Holy crap. You ain't never? Man, you really are a loser, ofay. But at least she let you take those shots of her backside."

    "Actually, I kind of snuck those," he admitted.

    "What? She didn't know? You're a hell of a boyfriend. Show me some more."

    Without thinking, Pete scrolled further. All at once there was a shot of Juno, followed by one of Tyra, and then several more of those Black beauties. Javon took the phone and wanted to know what that was about, if they were some more girlfriends that Pete couldn't get into bed, and the unsettled captive blurted out that these, too, were candid shots, taken without their subjects' knowledge. Javon gave him a piercing look.

    "So here's the deal, skirt-sissy. You still owe us for walking on our streets, especially with that jacket on. You was trespassing. So what we're gonna do is just make you show us you sorry. Not nuthin' to hurt you. Special' since you got that girlfriend, that Darla, with the bang-bang booty. So we'll make it easy. You just show off how sissy you were actin' in our hood, we'll take a few pictchas like, with our phones, and then we'll all be even. Right?"

    Relieved that they weren't going to attack him, but still scared, he agreed to do what they wanted. One of the other guys stepped in and told him to strike a pose. Like a girl. Like some fashion model. Understanding what they wanted, Pete assumed a girly posture, with his hands on his hips, lips puckered. Several of the players took pictures but he couldn't do anything about that. He just wanted to earn his freedom. Then they had him remove his jacket. After a couple more poses, they had him flip his skirt up in back. There was murmur of interest. When they made him expose himself in front again, more voices whispered to each other. It was making him nervous.

    "One more thing," Javon decided. "You got to get down on your knees in front of us superior type Black men. Go on ahead." Pete sank to his knees on the cold hard floor. "And a bunch of them gonna line up." A dozen big brutes suited their actions to those words. "And then you gonna kiss each of them where their business is. Just to show like how you understand who's in charge around here. Right?"

    Pete muttered softly, "Yes, Sir."

    "Good girl," Javon said confusingly. "Now get to movin' down the line, givin' them kisses."

    The unlucky tennis player shuffled on his knees until he was directly in front of the first Black football player. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on the crotch of the guys slacks. He could feel the bulk of a huge cock hidden there. Pete edged himself along sideways to do the same for the second and third one. As bad as it was for him, it could have been so much worse. He would soon be done and go free. He got to the middle of the line and then near to the end. He was on the last guy when someone else joined them. Taking up the final position was another big beefy Black man. Except that this one had just emerged from the showers and was naked, his body glistening with water. Pete stopped in front of him and looked up beseechingly. This couldn't be happening.

    "Well?" said the towering figure. "What's it going to be, White Bread? You gonna kiss my tool or what?"

    Pete gagged but managed to say, "Yes, Sir." He gave it a light peck near the root and then drew back his head.

    A snarl from the recipient told him that hadn't been enough. Pete tried a firmer kiss to the thick shaft but it elicited the same sound of disapproval. The next time Pete went for the head, keeping his revolted lips on it twice as long. The Black bruiser bared his teeth and Pete tried again. He repeated that last effort but followed it with his tongue, licking lightly up and down the shaft. To his horror, that Black rod was beginning to thicken and elongate. It had started at six inches soft, already much larger than he was hard. Now it passed seven and reached eight, gaining girth as it lengthened. Pete blinked back tears. He couldn't believe what they were making him do. It was disgusting. Unnatural. He was straight. He had a girlfriend. When he looked to Javon for help, the tough man's attention was focused on the screen of Pete's phone.

    One more kiss and a few more licks brought the cock in front of him to a full nine inches, standing up threateningly. Pete gazed up at his tormentor and asked weakly, "Am I done... Sir?"

    "Sissy, you ain't close to done. If you get it up, you got to get it off. I'm not goin' around with my balls all full and sore after you been flirtin' with my stick. Now put your lips around it and do me proper, like a girly boy do."

    All the guys from the line-up surrounded Pete with their hands made into fists. He sobbed and felt sick to his stomach, but took the proffered penis with his fingertips and guided the end past his quivering lips and onto his tongue. It was huge. He thought about how much smaller he was. His hands went to the big man's thighs, he held on, and his mouth tightened around its contents. Pete sucked the head and ran his tongue over its underside. He took in another two inches and moved his head forward and back. This is what he's always wished Darla would do for him. Or any girl would do. Instead, he was performing the revolting submissive act on a tall Black man who was grinning down at him, occasionally moaning with pleasure.

    Pete kept lavishing attention on the enviable pole. He even massaged the heavy balls and, desperate to keep him happy, kissed and licked them. That only made the guy comment to everyone that the wuss in the skirt was for sure a sissy.

    Someone said, "Come on, Blondie. Put it back in yo mouth. Deeper. Swallow another inch."

    Another one told him, "You know you want it. Suck harder so you can get a mouthful o' that salty spunk."

    With no way to reverse the situation, Pete just wanted to get it over with. He swirled his tongue around the cock head, forced himself to take in another inch, reached under and squeezed the standing man's balls. Something worked, because the big-pricked man exploded inside Pete's mouth, with cum leaking out around his lips, rolling down the back of this throat, and making a puddle under this tongue. It ran over his chin and dripped onto his bare chest. His jacket was retrieved and thrown on the floor. He had to get up into a squat so they could put it in front of him and then he could kneel back down, on top of it. Pete coughed up a gob of semen, which then slid out over his lower lip and plopped onto the clean jacket.

    The naked Black man moved away and one of the other guys from the line took his place. He told Pete, "Come on, Lily White. Get my pants opened up so I can get some of that sissy sucking, too."

    All the others were standing around, rubbing their crotches and coming over to tug on Pete's ears and ruffle his hair. Every one of them expected the same treatment he had just given to the guy from the showers. Pete began to cry but at the same time was freeing another giant-sized cock and putting his mouth on it. This nightmare was going to last for hours. And there were multiple phones being used to take photos.

    When it was at last over he had cum slobbered all over his front, on this thighs and even on his tiny dick. It had also soiled his jacket everywhere. With tears on his flushed cheeks and cum in his hair from guys wiping their cocks off there, he was a miserable wreck. He struggled to his feet and was handed the skirt, but not the towel. Pete wordlessly got the skirt back on and was pointed toward the exit. He went outside and someone gave him vague directions back to where he had been abducted. He staggered off, thinking that he would never be able to get the taste of spunk out of his mouth, the smell of it out of his nostrils. That was when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

    "Let's do this." Javon had reappeared. He was the only one who hadn't demanded oral favors from Pete. "Let's make a call to that girlfriend of yours."

    "Please," Pete begged. "Don't."

    Javon laughed at him. "Don't tell me 'don't'. I already found her on your address list. Let's just hit old number two and see what she has to say." He pressed the button and waited a moment, then spoke. "Yo, is this Darla? I'm a buddy of Pete's and he left his phone where I am." He gave Pete a broad wink, as if that lie were part of some amusing game. "I was wonderin' if I could drop it off with you. If you don't want me comin' to your place we could get together somewhere else, like a coffee shop or whatever." He listened and then said, "That'll be fine. See you in about ten minutes... Darla."

    Nearly two hours later, wearing his cum-stained jacket, Pete reached his apartment building. His long walk had been a string of humiliations. More than once he had hidden himself behind dumpsters or among trash barrels, cowering in the shadows. A pretty Vietnamese girl had seen him coming, turned away and hurried off in revulsion. Now he used his security code to retrieve his spare key and enter the building, wearily climbed the stairs to the second floor, and used the key to enter his apartment. In the bathroom he sat disconsolately on the edge of the tub, trying to figure the best way to save his letterman jacket. He was about to remove it and at least get a shower, when he heard someone unlocking his apartment door. There was only one other person who had a key.

    "Peter!" a female voice barked.

    "D... Darla? Honey?"

    She came storming into the bathroom and saw him wearing the jacket and skirt. Her features grew stormy. He looked up at her, at those overly full curves, her usually cute face, and blond hair that cascaded in waves over her shoulders.

    Pete said, "I can explain. You see, Javon is this really awful guy and..."

    "Hold on right there," she said angrily. "He was nice enough to return your phone. And he was polite with me. He even complimented my figure, which you have never done. And..." She scowled at him. "... he showed me those pictures of me on your phone, the ones you took when I wasn't looking. And the ones of those fantastic looking Black girls. I am not happy about any of that, Peter."

    Why was she calling him that? Why not just 'Pete'? And how could she be so infuriated? He was the victim here.

    "Another thing. He explained to me about your secret homosexual tendencies. You could have been more honest about that. I always thought we weren't having sex because you didn't like my body."

    "Well, I mean, you are kind of fat, but that's not it. It's just..." He almost said that he was afraid she would laugh at his immature penis. Instead, he told her, "I thought you weren't ready. I was trying to be... nice."
    "And is that why I find you wearing a skirt? Javon was so gentle when he explained to me about your sexual orientation confusion."

    "But I'm straight. I'm not attracted to guys."

    "Then explain THIS."

    She held his phone out to him and he gasped when he saw an image of himself, on his knees, with a monster-sized Black cock in his mouth. Javon had taken that picture. With Pete's phone. It wasn't fair. He needed to make her understand. And maybe take back that remark about her being fat.

    He tried to get her to listen but she broke in with, "Javon honestly likes the way I look. You were always hinting that I should lose weight."

    "Of course he likes your figure. Black guys love big asses." Again he had said the wrong thing. To try to redeem himself he said, "Javon is a liar. If I could talk to him he'd tell you what really went on."
    "Fine. Let's go and see him. He gave me his address. And I wouldn't mind hearing more about how sexy he thinks I am." She was playing with Pete's phone again. All of a sudden she stopped and held it out for him to see. On the screen was a shot of his unimpressive and almost hairless boy parts. "And then you can have him explain how this picture he took makes your junk look so small." She giggled at the image, making Pete cringe.

    She snapped at him to put his jacket back on. He did and she was already heading out the door. Still without pants or shoes, or even anything under that unwanted skirt, he hurried after her. Could this get any worse? In the parking lot alongside his building she made him crouch on the floor in front of the passenger seat, saying that he was too filthy to be on the upholstery. He squeezed into the inadequate space, glad at least that he was somewhat hidden. She drove for fifteen minutes and then stopped. He brought his head up and peered over the sill of the window. It was another Black part of the city. At least, he reminded himself, he should be getting his clothes and wallet back. Why hadn't Javon simply given them to Darla? It was all so confusing.

    As they left the car Darla walked ahead of him. He rushed to keep up, holding down the bottom of his brief skirt. Two Black guys were watching. One of them called out to Darla, telling her she was 'sweet'. The other said she had a 'fine booty'. She looked to Pete to see if he was going to defend her but he was too uncertain to do anything. He had already been abused by all those Black athletes. He didn't want anything else bad to happen to him, especially not with his girlfriend there. He just wanted to reclaim his property, get home, and clean up. Maybe get his jacket to a dry cleaner. It smelled like it had been at an orgy which, in a sense, it had. There were no security codes needed to get into Javon's building. They just went through the front door and down the hall to Apartment A-7. Darla knocked on the door while Pete stood behind her, finally questioning himself if this had been a good idea. Maybe he didn't want to see Javon again. But he kept assuring himself that he would be home soon, maybe with Darla, and that everything would work itself out. Sure it would.

    Javon admitted them to his small apartment. He addressed Darla as 'pretty lady'. Pete didn't appreciate that, but her coy smile said that she certainly did. Their host went to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of red wine and two stemmed glasses. He set everything on an end table and invited her to sit. When she did, he politely asked if she would like a glass of wine. Darla accepted and he poured hers, gave it to her, and filled one for himself. There was no glass for Pete, who stood uneasily in the background. Javon held his drink out to Darla, she did the same to him, and they clinked glasses. Pete was silently fuming.

    "So," Javon said, "how did I get so lucky to have yo' show up at my door?"

    Darla blushed prettily and said, "Well, it's about what happened to Pete. And that he didn't get all his stuff back." She hesitated, then went on, "And that some stuff came out about how he's been treating me. Calling me fat. And taking those pictures of me when I wasn't looking."

    "I unnerstan'," Javon assured her sympathetically. "Some guys can be real dogs. An' you know, that stuff the brothers did to him, well..." He seemed to reconsider the actions of his teammates. "It was just that he give us a lot of attitude. And then he pussied out so quick. Like, didn't stand up fo' hisself. Kind of like how he didn't stand up for you, baby. And when some o' the bros got carried away an' made like they wanted wanted him to do faggy stuff -- I mean HOMOsexual stuff --" he amended, suddenly all political correctness, "well, they kind o' though he WANTED it. You know, cause he was actin' all eager an'..." He let that sink in for a few seconds before concluding with, "... maybe comin' outta th' closet, like they say. I mean even though he say he have a girlfrien' an' all. An' even though you two be havin' sex all the time, I'm sure."

    "Actually, we've NEVER had sex," she said, noticeably angry after the way Javon had cleverly stated matters to make Pete look so bad.

    The normally weak-willed Pete finally boiled over. But, being himself, he directed his wrath at Darla.

    Pete fumed, "How could you tell him that, Darla? After they used me like some sissy fruit? And when I went out with you even though, you know, other guys..."

    Javon wanted to know, "Other guys what? Don't see how beautiful she is?"

    Feeling backed into a corner, Pete threw the Black youth a dirty look, but then turned his ire toward Darla again. "It's just that I've always... I mean, you never... Gee, Darla, you should be glad I'm with you." His temper flared. He jabbed his forefinger at her, snarling, "Or would you rather be alone?"

    All at once it struck him what he had just said. Before he could try to undo the damage, Javon stepped in. Pete's arm was still extended, his hand almost in his girlfriend's face. Javon grabbed that pointing finger and bent it back slightly, not enough to do any real damage, but enough to make Pete squeal and, as Javon applied downward pressure, to drive him to his knees.

    Displaying righteous anger, Javon insisted, "Now you apologize to Darla, dammit. Go on."

    When Pete tried to speak, Javon bent that finger just an iota more, but it was enough to silence his victim. To Darla it looked like Pete was refusing to respect her. She glared down at him. Javon turned Pete's wrist and, when the kneeling student tried to compensate so it would hurt less, Javon gave a light tug, just enough to make Pete topple toward him.

    Javon yelled, "Yo!" and backed up, as if Pete had tried to lunge at him. He also kept his grip on that pained finger, so that Pete couldn't regain control of his own movements. Javon twisted the wrist further, at the same time lifting, so that Pete came halfway up, falling toward him. To Darla it looked like self defense when Javon slammed his knee hard into Pete's vulnerable crotch. The off-balance student gagged on an explosion of agony, crumpled up and, when Javon let go, dropped to the floor in a fetal ball, moaning loudly.

    The Black victor glared down at him and demanded, "I'm gonna ignore that you tried to sucka' punch me. But yo' still gotta 'polagize to Darla. Come on now, boy. Tell her."

    Pete tasted bile. He couldn't believe how much he hurt. Still, rather than risk further reprisals, he choked out, "I... I'm sorry, D... Darla. I didn't mean to call you fat. But I... I mean..." A little drool ran out of the side of his mouth.

    With perfect timing, Javon went to her. He put a concerned expression on his good looking Black face. In response, she was all gratitude and romance. Her arms opened wide. Javon embraced her, being careful to keep it gentle. But then she let her head tilt back slightly, closed her eyes, and parted her lips. In case he missed the message -- which he didn't -- she hugged him tighter. He allowed himself an unseen smirk of triumph before he pressed his lips firmly to Darla's. His tongue found hers and they shared a long passionate kiss. His hands moved lower and gripped her protruding butt cheeks. She didn't pull away. Instead, she moved her crotch against his. Javon, being Javon, got hard instantly. Darla felt the huge bulge that resulted.

    She broke the kiss but didn't retreat. Her eyes opened and he was grinning at her. Darla licked her lips, slid one hand between their bodies, and felt to make sure that she hadn't been mistaken. He eased his hips forward. Suddenly she was panting.

    "You okay, baby?"

    "I'm... fine," she said breathlessly. "It's just that I've always dreamed about... And after nothing happening with Pete... And now this..."

    "Yeah," he said casually. "It's all workin' out good." He rubbed his cock against her hand. "Real good. For both o' us."

    On the floor, still unable to rise, Pete listened in distress. His girlfriend, the only non-fantasy one he'd ever had, was not just mad at him, but dumping him in favor of that capable Black stud. Pete moaned. Darla heard and sneered down at him. She even gave him a short hard kick in his underdeveloped bicep, which made him cry out. Then the accumulated pain and mortification overcame him and he began to sob, sniffle, and weep. Instead of showing pity, Darla chortled at his misery and then gave Javon another kiss, one that seemed in part intended to damage what was left of Pete's ego.

    The involved couple went to the couch and sat. Javon told Pete to get up on his knees, shuffle over, and pour them more wine. Pete got up that far despite extreme discomfort, and came to them on his knees. He took the bottle in quivering hands and poured both glasses full. He had to watch as they lifted them and sipped. Darla looked unbelievably tempting, maybe because she was now so unavailable to him. He screwed the cap back on the bottle and set it where it had been. The drinkers put down their glasses and kissed again. Javon's hand went to Darla's generous breast. He kneaded it lightly and then gave it a squeeze. She purred appreciatively and stroked his swollen crotch.

    From his submissive viewpoint, Pete could only look on and suffer pangs of regret. As if reading his mind, Darla scowled at him and shook her head.

    Still fondling Javon, she said, "You are a total loser, Pete. One of those guys they call 'metrosexual', which really just means you're even a bigger pussy than everybody already thinks. A borderline fairy." She laughed. "Which is probably best for you, because with your poor excuse for a cock you'll never be able to satisfy any woman in bed. Ever."

    "Right," Javon said thoughtfully. He ran his hand over her hair and she snuggled against him. "But you only seen that little pink worm in them pictures. Before you give up on the wimp, you oughtta see it for real. Just to be fair."

    "Yessss," Darla said, sounding overheated. "Let's see it, Pete. Let's see Pete's little peter."

    "B... but..." he whined.

    Kneeling there in that shameful skirt, he let out a sigh of resignation and lifted the front of his inadequate covering. Darla took one look at his immature penis and laughed heartily. She took her hand off Javon's lap, held out towards Pete and grabbed the air, as if she was feeling between his legs, then put it back where it had been and did a comparison feel.

    "No," she said. "He's hopeless. A sissy with a baby dick. How pathetic." She looked directly at Pete. "You talk about me not having anyone else." She turned her face toward Javon for another wet kiss. "Well, shrimp-dick, I no longer have any problems in that department. You, on the other hand, are going to be in a permanent state of getting-no-pussy. Stupid jerk off. Any girl you meet will leave you for a guy with a better personality, a guy who's not a big failure, or especially any guy with a cock that's full size..." She gazed longingly at Javon's bulge. "... or bigger than average. Lots bigger."

    She made a show of unzipping him, opening his pants, and working his long member free. Once it was out, she held onto it possessively. Her small white hands brought that Black shaft to full erection, a startling nine thick inches. She began to bring her mouth closer to it.

    Darla turned her eyes up worshipfully toward Javon, and said in a shy voice, "This might not be exactly right. I've never done it before." She glowered at Pete. "Certainly not for HIM."

    "Thass okay, baby. However you do it gonna be super sweet. Makes sense you never wanted to do nuthin' for the albino pickle over there."

    She said, "I saw him in a bathing suit once, at the college pool, and I thought maybe he just shrank up a lot because the water was cold. But the water wasn't THAT cold, and all the other guys looked like the right size."

    "Yeah, he was advertisin' his what-you-call shortcomings." He laughed. "But what you got in you' hand is my long-comings."

    She smiled at him and then at his cock. Her head dipped down and her mouth opened. There was a timeless moment during which Pete thought his heart had stopped. Then her lips closed around the fat head of Javon's tool and she sucked it hungrily. Her fingers curled around the thick shaft, or at least as far around it as they could, and she pumped it in slow motion. Javon smirked at Pete, who wished he could crawl away and hide. The Black lover allowed her to keep pleasuring him for several minutes.

    At last he rested a hand on the back of her head and said softly, "Hey, girl. How about we visit my bedroom. I want to see you all stretched out and lookin' like an angel."

    She took her mouth off his cock and said, "Oh, Javon, you're so romantic," and then went right back to gobbling it.

    He brushed his fingertips against her ear and repeated, "Bedroom, angel."

    Darla pulled her mouth off him with a juicy intake of breath over her saliva-coated tongue. The sound made Pete cringe. The pair on the couch got up and turned away. Javon told Pete to follow them, and said he should do it without getting up. On hands and knees, Pete trailed them, watching his ex-girlfriend's rolling bottom and mourning how much he had lost. They passed through the bedroom door. Pete sped up, as if his presence might make them change their minds. But as he entered he saw them sensuously undressing each other, hands roving freely over uncovered flesh, lingering here and teasing there.

    Once they were naked, Javon broke away and grabbed Pete. He pushed him over to the footboard of he bed, then went to his dresser, from which he took a pair of leather bootlaces. In seconds he had Pete's arms spread wide and hands secured to the side posts of the footboard, which forced the ex-boyfriend to remain bent forward uncomfortably. Darla laid back on the bedspread and put her hands behind her head. She parted her rounded thighs a bit, enough to be super sexy but not so much that it was lewd.

    Javon gave her an approving smile and said, "There's my angel." He got onto the mattress alongside her, stretched out, and began expert foreplay, kissing, fondling, murmuring words of affection. She responded spiritedly, writhing, returning his kisses with passion, handling his genitals with familiarity, and purring sweet words of her own.

    "Oh, Javon, you are magnificent. I wish I could stay like this all night. You make me so happy."

    "Well, angel, you make me happy. And you make me somethin' else, too." He chuckled devilishly.

    She gripped his cock. "I make you HARD."

    "Damn straight you do."

    Her legs parted further and he rolled toward her, got onto his knees between them, and aimed his rampant Black cock at her tight moist pink entrance. The knob touched her and he eased into the tightness. Darla breathed hard, with each exhalation releasing a long moan of lust. On every inward stroke, Javon inserted himself deeper, in no hurry. Darla jerked her hips demandingly. He didn't rush it. Instead, he kept increasing the new sensations she was enjoying, turning her moans into requests.

    "Please, Javon. Lover. Give me more. Give me everything. Go faster. Harder." Unexpectedly, she added, "I'll never let Pete get his ridiculous little pecker anywhere near my pussy. It's only for you. You are my man."

    He told her she was going to get everything she wanted, but that it was going to take time. "After all, baby, I'm a One Hour Man. If you gave the sissy loser over there a chance, I bet he be a One Minute Man."

    "Or just a One Minute Wimp."

    They shared a muted laugh and then Pete was forgotten as the pace of their lovemaking gradually increased. The cuckolded boyfriend could only stare in alarmed horror as his girlfriend was taken away from him, completely and for good. He wept and shook, pulled futilely at his bonds, and chewed his lips. Darla looked up over Javon's dark shoulder and gave Pete a fierce grin that mingled revenge and sexual ecstasy. Her eyes were wild. Then they closed. Her head went back and she was overcome by a deep orgasm that made her quake under Javon's continued pumping. He gave her a long one, complete with a warm afterglow, all without halting.

    As Pete gaped at the scene, Javon proved that his boast was not idle. He went on and on, eventually giving Darla a second shuddering climax. Pete had no accurate sense of time but estimated that they had been entwined for over a half hour. Now Javon slowed even more, letting her recover somewhat. He got her more excited and then backed off again. He soon had her pleading, close to tears, as if she would not survive without another finish. The Black stallion granted her request, furiously pumping, with her meeting his every thrust with a counter movement of her own, until she was launched into a third quaking finale.

    Darla was in a delightful haze of completion. She started to thank Javon but he cut her off with a gentle shushing sound.

    "Angel," he pointed out, "I ain't had my big bang yet. Hmm? I still got a ways to go. But I'm gonna take you with me. You want that, don't you? You want Javon to make you feel like you deserves to, like a real man wants you to, one more time."

    "Oh. Oh, yes. Please. Pete is nothing. You are everything."
    With that as his cue, he resumed his efforts, varying his tempo, kissing her neck, even biting it and leaving marks, which inflamed her further, until she was bucking under him, desperate for that additional ride over the top. As Pete marveled at his rival's boundless energy and self control, Darla cried out once, twice, three times. As her release reached its peak, Javon let himself go. He drilled her hard, at last focusing on his own gratification, though she was once more receiving exactly what she desired. The two of them writhed through a sweaty mutual victory lap and then rolled onto their sides without letting go of each other. Pete couldn't avoid breathing in the musky scent of their encounter. He sank down until his chin rested on the footboard.

    Darla's sexual appetite had been sated but there was still another hunger that needed to be fed. After she had rested for a quarter hour she got up onto one elbow and stared hard at Pete, getting him scared all over again.

    Javon chuckled and suggested, "You still got some scores to even up with lilywhite down there. Ain't you?"

    Thus encouraged, she opened the floodgates of her emotions. "I do. That brainless piece of crap was always trying to get me to lose weight. And when he was my boyfriend and other guys gave me the eye or said stuff, he never tried to stop them. Plus he lied to me in a way when he never warned me that his dick is the size of a peanut."

    "And then," Javon said, "there were those pictures he took of you. Probably to choke his chicken while he was lookin' at them."

    "Right. Those. He's such a... a..."

    "Total ass-hat," Javon offered, to Pete's chagrin.

    "Yeah, a complete ass. Ass-hat. Ass face." She was working herself up into a fury.

    Javon soothed her with a few words and a kiss. He advised, "What you need to do is somethin' that'll stick with him. Like, that the crybaby won't never forget. And maybe somethin' that'll feel good for you."


    He shrugged. "I don't know. It's up to you. But if you was to make him eat yo' pussy..."

    "I can't." She gave Javon a mischievous smile. "You left a pint of cream in there."

    "But if you did make him..." He tilted his head. "I'm just sayin'."

    Her face took on a strange look, full of wickedness and the momentary madness spawned by her newfound power. "If I did... make him... put his mouth where your wonderful cock just was... while I'm still leaking all that thick spunk..."

    Having successfully gotten her to accept his idea, Javon finished with, "But it's up to you, angel."

    She gave him a kiss of thanks and asked him sweetly to untie Pete. Javon got up, his cock flaccid now but still so much larger then Pete's had been when it was stiff. Javon ruffled Pete's hair, like they were buddies and this was all just kidding around. Then he clamped his hand onto the back of Pete's neck and walked him to the side of the bed, forced him onto it, and told him in no-nonsense terms, to get his face 'up close and personal' with Darla's pussy. Pete got to within inches of his target, so close that he could smell her female center, as well as the generous helping of semen that had been spurted into it. He gagged, extended his tongue, and got his first taste of their mingled fluids. He lapped up some and Darla giggled. Pete swallowed. A few more swipes of his tongue and she was huffing and puffing. Javon got back alongside her and kissed her tenderly.

    She said, "Hey, Pete. Isn't this something? You and Javon are both kissing me on the lips. He gets the ones up here and you're left with the ones down there."

    Pete whimpered but continued attending to the clean-up and her mounting excitement. Javon sucked her nipples and reached down to feel around, locate her clitoris, and diddle it with one long thick finger. The added stimulation got her wriggling and spitting out disjointed syllables non-stop. She dug her heels into the bedspread and arched her back, bringing her mound more firmly against Pete's face. He grabbed her hips so he could keep his mouth where it belonged. It felt so good to press his fingers into that warm softness. He wished achingly that it was just the two of them, alone, and that he hadn't thrown away his opportunity.

    She erupted into a juicy final act and cried out, "Don't stop, you dickless wussy. Don't you dare... to... stop." Then she was coming down from her sexual pinnacle, her breathing gradually normalizing. Calmly, she repeated, "Don't stop," adding, "I'm still getting off on it."

    Shortly, when she reached down to slap him repeatedly on the top of his head, Pete at last backed off. He took a few deep breaths to reestablish his own breathing pattern. In a weak voice he asked, "Am I done? May I leave? Please, Javon? Sir?"

    "Sure, white bread. You can go anytime you wants to. Except, you know, there's one mo' job you gots to do."

    "I... what... what do you mean?"

    "Welllll," Javon said, drawing out Pete's anxiety. "I mean, you got my woman all cleaned up down where we did our business, but you ain't done the same for me. Not yet you ain't."

    "But I can't. I'm not gay. Or bi. I can't do that."
    "You can do whatever I say, white boy. Like back at the workout place. You can kiss my balls if I tell you to. But right now you just hafta lick all that good protein off 'a my Johnson. So do it, if you don't want me to use you fo' my punchin' bag."

    Darla hissed, "You heard the man, licky-licky boy. Get your mouth busy on his stick." She chuckled at her clever way of referring to him and of reinforcing the order.

    Pete started to cry audibly. He got into position between Javon's powerful legs and brought his face close to that monster cock, all slimed over with spunk and with Darla's pussy juices. The cuckolded boyfriend's throat constricted. He felt hot tears running down his cheeks. His nose itched. His stomach rebelled. Even so, he opened his mouth wide, got his fingers under Javon's slippery member to lift it, and moved his lips past the wide corona, felt the head brush against his tongue. Pete sealed his lips around that thickness and began to swirl his tongue around the circumference. He gulped down a spoonful of cream, revolted by it, like a kid being made to swallow some distasteful medicine. He even remembered the old advice to girls giving blowjobs, to 'suck, swirl and swallow', just what he was doing, as if he was one of those homo cocksuckers who he had always despised.

    He backed off, took the knob out of his mouth, held Javon's rod upright, and laved the underside, feeling the thick vein against his tongue. He started on the right side of the shaft next. When he turned his eyes up he was unsettled to see Darla kissing Javon, her fingers toying with his nipples. Was she trying to get him aroused? Could she, so soon after he had finished? It seemed impossible to Pete, especially compared to how disabled he was after one of his masturbation sessions. But there was Javon's impressive cock, hardening again, now staying up without any support from Pete.

    "Damn," the Black athlete enthused. "Feels like I got some hungry bitch with her ho mouth on my meat. That boy mus' really like him some Black sirloin."

    As Pete began lapping the other side, desperate to get done and escape, he started blubbering, shaming himself even more. Darla laughed and said he must be a fag, since he'd never made a serious move on her. Trying to finish his sickening task, Pete took the end of Javon's cock into his mouth, followed by as much more as he could force down. But his tormentors decided he was just liking the feel of it stuffing his mouth. Javon told him to slow down and enjoy himself. Darla said he could take all night long, and that she would keep her Black lover happy while Pete had fun sucking him off. The cuckold couldn't stop crying, which made it harder for him to take care of Javon, which meant the ordeal would last longer.

    Finally, when Darla started to massage Javon's heavy balls, at the same time sucking on one of his nipples while fingering the other, the Black man began to grunt, air whistling between his clenched teeth, his broad nostrils flaring. With a final explosive growl, Javon blasted out another load of spunk. It filled Pete's mouth, rolled down the back of his throat, leaked out around his lips, and even somehow ended up being expelled through his nose. He kept the thick tool in his mouth until Javon told him to set it free, give it a kiss, and get on the floor on his knees.

    "It's official," Darla said. "My ex-boyfriend has been turned into a sausage sucker."

    "Now," Javon advised, "don't be too quick to 'ex' him. He could still go 'round wit you. Spend lots of foldin' money on you. Jus' he wouldn't be gettin' no pussy, 'cept when you wants it slobbered on an' a tongue wigglin' around inside it."

    "But... what about us?"
    "Hell, baby, we'd still be together. Doin' the dirty an' all. With yo' not-so-ex-boyfriend handy to clean up the cream pie ever' time after we done."

    She actually cackled at those ideas. "That would be fun. And I still owe him. Plus, you know, what we already did to him, it got me wet down there."
    "Damn, girl. You a natural for messin' with his head."
    "You know, I've heard about guys like him. There's real mean like you, Javon, who're called Alphas. And weaklings who are Betas. But pathetic Pete down there, he's even lower on the scale, way down at the bottom where they're not really even men. He's what I heard called an Omega."

    "Call him whatever you wants, angel. I know I'll be calling him my white cock-licker. He gets any better, I be sellin' his talent down on Burke Street, where all the fairies hang out. Make some money off him."

    Darla chuckled at the mental images that conjured, of Pete standing on the corner, wrapped in a short fur jacket, with fishnet stockings and slutty heels on. She was a changed person. Just the thought of controlling and mistreating Pete thrilled her. At the same time, she didn't want to drive the fool to complete hopelessness. That's why she decided to throw him a crumb now and then, just enough to keep him believing that some day, somehow, he might be able to regain his pride and have the relationship he envisioned with her. So, after Javon's talk about pimping Pete, she turned her head so Pete couldn't see her face, and gave the man who had just enjoyed her body a broad wink.

    Then she turned to Pete and said, "Aw, we wouldn't want to push him that far. I mean, he's kind of cute in a sad pathetic way. Who knows, maybe after I work my way through whatever is going on with me, after I get it all out of my system, well, I might want him back."

    Poor Pete took the bait. He latched onto the chance that he might be able to redeem himself in her eyes. He was so desperate that he didn't think straight. Instead, he set out on a pointless effort to endure and maybe win out in the end. So that's what it was like on their future three-way dates with Javon, Darla and her cuckold. Like this.

    "Hey, blue eyes," Javon snapped at Pete. "Get on over here."

    In a contrastingly sweet tone, Darla invited, "Come into the bedroom, Pet. I want Javon to see how nice you look."

    Pete entered unhappily. He didn't like how his girlfriend -- he had convinced himself that she would be that, once she got over her infatuation with Javon -- had been feminizing him. Even so, she had explained that making him seem like less of a threat to Javon's mastery over her would help Pete to avoid punishments from the threatening Black man. Pete also didn't like how she was calling him 'Pet'. About that she had explained that it simply made more sense to give him a girly name to match his new look. At times her logic seemed flawed, but his self-esteem had been so badly damaged that he didn't have the nerve to question her. As he came into the room the couple, relaxing in bed, got a good look at him.

    Pete's blond hair had been cut into bangs across his forehead. Darla had decorated his face with cosmetics, this time going for a cartoonish look that included hiding his real eyebrows with cover-up and drawing high exaggerated ones above them, and drawing on and coloring lips the size of those candy-wax ones that are sold to kids. He was wearing a training bra that emphasized his lack of a bust, pale yellow panties with an open crotch that exposed his laughable genitals, and cheap gold shoes with two and a half inch heels. Javon howled with laughter at the sight he made. He gestured to Pete, signaling him to come closer. Then Javon sat up and swung around, letting his long legs hang over the side of the bed. When he pointed to a spot in front of him, Pete dropped to his knees. The sissified male saw Darla get on her knees and peek around her lover.

    "Now you been gettin' real good at suckin' my rod, Pet. Go ahead an' do some o' that now. Get me ready to slam the ham with my woman."

    With Darla's eyes on him, Pete had to put his lips on the head of the long shaft and begin fellating it. At once it sprang to life, so that he could feel it growing inside his mouth. Pete whimpered but kept at it, knowing that to rebel would cost him a face slapping. He got the man who had stolen his girlfriend aroused and then Javon ordered him to go and sit in the corner.

    Darla shook her head and told Pete, "You really were born to be a sissy cuckold. A total Omega." But then she clasped her hands, put on a sad expression, and sympathized, "Poor baby."

    Even as Javon mounted and entered her, the whole time that she was being willingly ravished, and afterward while Pete was slurping the Black satyr's spunk out of her pussy, the cuckold held tight to the idea that somehow this would all be reversed. Seeing the spark of hope in his eyes was almost as exciting to Darla as it was to extinguish it over and over.

    A week later the three of them were back in the bedroom. Javon and Darla were about to have another bout of unrestrained sex. Pete was kneeling meekly alongside the bed. He had on a short, see-through baby doll nightie and matching panties.

    Javon said to him, "Yo, Pet. You can make yo'self useful while we having our fun. There's a pair of my shoes under the bed. And a shoeshine kit. You can be my shoeshine boy. Or girl. While we're doin' the deed, you get them shoes all nice and shiny. Get to it, white stuff."

    As demeaning as the task was, especially having to perform it while the pair were yet again cuckolding him, he somehow found comfort in it. Javon wasn't demanding to be fluffed. Darla had probably brought that about. Of course she had. And she had suggested giving Pete this job as an alternative. She really did care. It would be so wonderful when he was back together with her. She was his Princess. He was absolutely deluding himself, creating a systematic delusion that only added to his torment. Just as Darla had intended.

    Two months after her first romp with Javon, Darla had another idea. She made Pete buy her lover a bottle of good scotch. When Pete went to buy it he couldn't be in one of his sissy outfits, but she did make him wear a polo shirt and khakis, along with argyle socks and deck shoes. He looked like a complete white snob and had to go to an inner city liquor store. On foot. Six blocks from Javon's apartment. Pete was a nervous wreck the entire time. He was gawked at and felt in danger, even though no one molested him. Still, by the time he returned he was shivering.

    Darla mixed a drink for Javon to loosen him up. Then she put Pete into a brief peach-colored camisole and matching bikini-cut panties. She had previously made him use a depilatory to remove what little body hair he possessed. His body was pink and smooth everywhere. And his hair and make-up suggested a slutty girl. She even put a strawberry-colored beret on his head at an angle. Javon looked at him with a new sort of interest and drained the last of his drink, after which Darla got fresh ice and made him another. After stripping down to just a pair of shiny stockings she began to heat up Javon, taking over Pete's roll of sucking him to a glorious erection.

    She had Pete kneel in the middle of the living room, with the lights had been turned low, and straddled his lower back, facing away from his head. Darla called Javon over and sweetly asked him to give her a kiss. Not quite sure what she intended, he knelt down to do it. She kissed like she was trying to melt his tongue. He was already aroused and had those drinks in him so, as she took his hands and placed them on her breasts, he was feeling an urgent need to have his cock taken care of by one means or another.

    Using her most seductive voice she suggested, "Why don't you take Pet's cherry, baby?" She kissed him again. "Kind of like you're doing me but this way you won't be stretching and busting my ass. Just the sissy's."
    Javon laughed softly. "You some bitch, girl."

    "I'm not TOO much of a bitch," she said, slipping a small tube from under her stocking top. "I brought some lube to make it easier for the poor wimp."

    She applied some to her fingers and rubbed it all over the thick head of Javon's cock, further inflaming his passion. Darla even took hold of his shaft and aimed it directly at the target.

    "Come on," she said. "Let him feel what it's like to have a big Black cock inside him. I'm sure the sissy will love it."

    Pete had been listening and, after the Black man yanked down his panties and Pete felt the tip of Javon's massive member touch him he whimpered loudly. He was so afraid that he even dared to say something. "Darla, please, don't let him do that to me. It's going to hurt so bad."
    "Now, Pet," she soothed, "it's better this way. Otherwise you'd just be worrying all the time about him eventually doing it. This way it's done and you know what it's like. See? I'm doing you a favor."

    Before he could say anything, Javon forced the knob through his tight ring. Pete hollered and began to cry. He begged some more without realizing that he was just inciting them to abuse him more. With a few thrusts of his powerful hips the Black stud buried himself in Pete all the way, to the accompaniment of the cuckold's increasingly frantic cries. As Javon began a slow steady pumping, Pete was reduced to blubbering, raising his head and dropping it over and over, taking deep breaths. As it went on, Darla got up and laid on the carpet in front of Pete, wriggling herself into position for him to lick her pussy.

    "Hey, Pet," she said in singsong voice. "Time to clean me up. That insatiable Javon came inside me twice last night and I just haven't gotten around to getting rid of the huge mess he left in there. Be a good Pet and lap up everything that's been in there all that time. It's kind of like my pussy has been marinating overnight." She chortled. "Just for you to enjoy. Mmmm. What a taste treat."

    Still being tortured by Javon's assault, Pete had to suffer the added indignity of laving her, lapping up and swallowing the warm leftovers. He tried to focus on what he was doing rather than what was being done to him. Fifteen minutes later, just to make everything worse, the lovers both came at the same time. As Pete finished cleaning up one mess, another was dumped into his body.

    The next morning Darla sent him to class with a red rubber ring to sit on. It was meant for hemorrhoid sufferers, but as sore as Pete was he qualified too. She told him that he had to carry it from class to class in his hand and not hide it. If anyone was presumptuous enough to ask why he needed it, he was to tell them that he had gone to a gay biker bar and offered his ass to all takers. He spent every moment worrying that someone would actually have the nerve to question him.

    For the next several years it went on like that. After Pete and Darla graduated she got a well paying starting position in lower management, with plenty of opportunities for advancement, and he got a dead-end job as an office drone. She continued seeing Javon the entire time. Somewhere along the line Pete's thinking changed again. He at last understood that she would never be his, and that he had been having hallucinatory hopes. But in place of his former unrealistic attitude he discovered that he had become dependent on making the effort, on trying to gain something that would forever elude him. And he was by then so submissive that there was no chance of him reasserting the limited masculine attributes he had once possessed.

    Darla used domination and mental manipulation to push him into a relationship with a friend of hers, Carla, who was a slut and had a craving for Black men. Carla was less attractive than Darla, and heavier, with a super-sized ass. Pete had no way to resist her as she took over his life and forced him into a cuckold marriage. He continued to be denied sex. Before, he had experienced the occasional wet dream. Now he started to sneak jerking off on the toilet once in a while. She had all the boyfriends she pleased and loved to spend Pete's money on them. Sometimes he had to use his mouth to get them hard for her. Afterwards he always had to clean up her and usually them.

    Carla was also something of a slob. She left dirty plates and glasses all over, along with food wrappers and drink containers. He was endlessly picking up after her and if he missed even one scrap of her litter he was given a loud and long scolding. Then she caught him wanking in the john and decreed that he would have to wear a chastity tube. As tiny as his dick was, it was difficult to find one small enough for him, but she did it with a model called The Acorn, which was barely larger than his penis at its very smallest. It was excruciatingly uncomfortable when he tried to get hard, which happened a lot because she loved to tantalize and tease him. His balls ached.

    She also delighted in telling him what he was allowed to eat, to wear, and to watch on TV. At home he was always in some girly outfit, usually one that left him half naked and made him suffer the maximum of shame. Often he was only permitted stockings, a garter belt, and high heels that were too tight. Other times he had to dress as a French prostitute, cheerleader, or maid. There was no respite.

    In a way the worst thing was when Darla and Javon came to visit. They laughed as Carla told them about all the indignities and punishments she inflicted on him. Darla would arouse him and then fake pity for how awful his chastity device was and the fact that he got to have zero ejaculations. She was fascinated by Carla describing how she made Pete kiss her wide ass and shove his face into the sweaty crevice between her massive buttocks. Pete had to give a demonstration while his ex and her lover laughed at him. One time Carla's current lover, Rollie, stopped by and the couples took turns using the bedroom, and employing Pete to do clean up duty. At the end of the evening, before they left, the girls requested that both the Black guys use Pete at the same time.

    They were happy to comply, hogtying him and putting him on the small dining room table. Javon used his mouth and throat while the equally well-hung Rollie stuffed his ass. The girls stood by and cheered, urging their men to slam Pete harder. They took plenty of pictures with their phones. The final act came three months later when Carla, through her next boyfriend, the one after Rollie, got Pete a different job. He became a junior account manager in the office of a new hip-hop label, where he was the only white employee. Things might have gone all right for him, he might have been able to keep a low profile and be mostly ignored, but then Carla sent those photos of him being spit-roasted to his boss. By accident. And the boss shared them with the entire staff. By accident.

    And then Pete's life got even worse.

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