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. When Lincoln First Fucked Me

Discussion in 'Cuckold Stories' started by Lutheran Maid, Nov 2, 2017.

. When Lincoln First Fucked Me 3.7 5 3votes
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  1. Lutheran Maid

    Lutheran Maid Well-Known Member Author!

    There came the afternoon when Lincoln first fucked me. A point in time and a point in the state of our minds. My husband Mark was as ready as he would ever be. For months then I had dressed for and flirted with his boss, the affable, the suave, the handsome Lincoln. When I look back upon it now, those months were like the brewing time of a cold. You may be know about that, the time when you know you are changing, when whatever it is will become inevitable, when no matter what you do, the submission will happen and you abandon yourself to your fate. I should explain that Mark never asked me to go with Lincoln. He never asked to watch us. There was never a conversation about being a bitch to him. No, it was much more subtle than that. If Lincoln came by for supper, then it was accepted that I greeted him and that he would kiss me on the lips, even if lightly. It was accepted that Lincoln would dominate the evening, with his good looks and bright conversation. It was accepted from the off that my husband admired Lincoln, not only as the firm and incisive boss, but as the sort of man that would turn any woman's head. Mark knew that Lincoln conquered women. He knew that he fucked them, irrespective of whether they were married. That was a given too. But he knew as well that Lincoln liked to own a woman. It was never about a quick fuck alone. As Mark said to me once, 'Lincoln fucks women's minds as well as their bodies'. He said it wistfully and I am sure that he was envious. Ah me, if only he had those charms, the smooth manner of the beautiful black male.

    It must have been a terrible time for Mark, knowing that I wanted Lincoln. He could see it in the way I looked at the man. He could feel it in the attention to detail, the way I dressed, wore perfume and groomed myself if there was a chance that he might call. Deep down, I suppose Mark knew, that I would go with Lincoln on any terms. I would fuck just the once, fuck at the glance of an eye, or become his bitch, whatever terms he chose to impose. When you watch someone mesmerised as I am sure that I was, you know that you can't simply shake the person out of that. If you do, something terrible could happen. No, the fuck was foretold it was destined to be, and Mark waited, like a child waits in line for the dentist, or for an injection. Whatever it was, however it happened, Mark knew that he was going to feel sore.

    It happened on a Sunday afternoon, after Lincoln had joined us for lunch. We often did that, making a meal for Lincoln. I was excited because I had heard through a girl at his company that Lincoln had recently finished with another married girl who he had fucked pregnant. I say finished, but I suppose I really mean set aside. The girl was heavily pregnant by him and I suppose that it was awkward fucking a woman who looked more like a beached whale. I know, that's bitchy. But I wanted him. The other husband was resigned to raising Lincoln's offspring, the woman was nicely secure as regards support arrangements, so now, I hoped, I prayed, that it was my turn. I remember what a dizzying thought that was! What if he got me pregnant? What if I had a lifelong reminder of how large he loomed in my desires? Poor Mark, he must have thought about that too. Mark heard the rumours. He knew that Lincoln fucked bare back. He knew that Lincoln had probably fathered a couple of kids by different women. Just how Lincoln made the husbands accept such things I could only guess at. Did he bully or charm them? More likely I thought he simply had the women deliver an ultimatum, accept things or fuck off. When you've got to have a particular man's cock, you simply have to have it. It is instinct, terrible, ruthless, yearning and gnawing, a force of nature.

    After lunch Mark always did the dishes, but on this particular occasion we weren't quite at that point. I'd sent my husband to make coffee and that left Lincoln and I in the lounge, staring out at the rain as it ran down the window panes and soaked the orchard beyond. I remember that the fire was burning brightly and the house had that warm cocoon feeling to it. Lincoln was on edge. Arrogant, attractive as he is, he wasn't without feelings about an impending conquest. I suppose that he imagined that he might have to hit a husband. May be he might have to dismiss Mark from his post if he interfered with the seduction. Anyway, I trembled. I trembled like I always did when I was very near to him. His eyes followed mine and there came a second, yes only that, when I stopped running away from him. I stopped finding interest in the rain outside and submitted only to him. I remember how he ran his strong hand around my waist and then down onto my bottom which was encased snugly in the tight black leather mini skirt. His first kiss went to my forehead, but that was only the momentary way lay. Soon his lips came down, to the tip of my pert little nose, onto the freckles of my cheeks and then against my lips. His kiss wasn't hard….not at first. He wanted to know that I was ready for him. He needed to know that I worshipped him. I showed him. I showed him with a shy glance upwards into his eyes and then the parting of my lips so that his tongue could slip inside.

    'I'm going to fuck you' he said softly, when our kiss parted, too swift, too tantalisingly short for me.

    I nodded and felt my neck colour. The rush of blood, through my breasts and up into my throat caught my breath. I could feel my heart racing.

    'I want that' I answered softly.

    'Mark…' he began, anticipating a concern.

    'He doesn't count…' I answered quickly, embarrassingly. How to tell him. No words would seem sensible, measured, decent. 'He…he has always known that I want you…on whatever terms.'

    I waited for his kiss. Sweet relief, it came quickly. The flood of relief. There, I had said it. I had admitted it. Why did Mark know this? Because, because, Lincoln was the more successful male, Lincoln was the alpha. May be it was that Lincoln was black and white women were meant to come to their call? I didn't know, I didn't, but now, sweet God, we were kissing and Lincoln, his hands caressed my buttocks and drew me hard against his groin. I gasped. There, his erection. In his jeans. A massive erection. It made me shiver.

    Mark came in from the kitchen. He had returned to ask about brandy. He stood there, watching Lincoln kiss me, his arms surrounding me, his hands caressing me. When I opened my eyes just a little, alerted by the sound of footfall, I saw him there. His hands down by his side, his face drained of blood, his mouth open. This moment, this second, the aching had been leading to this. This precise moment. What would Mark do? What could he do? Nothing. He was too weak. He was too subservient, in his mind, he accepted that the better man could have me when he wanted. He was too frail, in terms of his self esteem. And, if I am honest, right then, I knew it, I was too beautiful for him. I was better than him. I was meant to be with a man like Lincoln, on any terms for they would be infinitely better than what my husband could offer.

    Lincoln saw him too then, and kissed me again slowly, as if to say, 'I don't care. I don't care about what you think, I'm taking her'.

    I don't know if such a terrible thought makes all women wet between their legs. But it did me then. It did as I saw the exchange of looks. It did as I saw my husband's shoulders drop in defeat. Lincoln and i kissed some more, slowly, indulgently, my suitor moving his thick cock against my front, separated only by denim. Lincoln looked back at Mark, his eyes hardening. Then, with equal care, equal determination, he slipped his hand between us, eased up the full length front zip of my skirt and started to feel me. I felt his fingers explore. I felt them gravitate to my sex and yes, there now, sweet sweet moment, he pulled my panties to one side and found my cunt. His fingers found my wet slit and with consummate ease, absolute determination, he pushed them within and made me gulp.

    'I fuck her when I want, ' he warned Mark sternly, 'you make a fuss and life is going to become very very uncomfortable'.

    I watched Mark's face fall. He wasn't going to fight. He couldn't fight. It was so so sexy. It was so terrible, raw, needful, watching Lincoln push Mark aside.

    'The lady is going to be my bitch. You come near her only when I say…. how I say' he continued. His voice, base, it rumbled from the depths of his ample chest.

    I shuddered on his fingers. Lincoln knew. He knew. He could feel me, my heat, my wetness, the subtle way in which I pushed down on his hand.

    'You'll treat her as Mrs boss….you'll treat her as my lady from here on in.'

    Odd words, strange words. Imperfect words? I don't know. Mark understood though. He understood and his head dropped in submission. Lincoln fingered me. His fingers probed, his thumb flicked my button and I so desperately needed him to kiss me again.

    There were tears rolling down Marks cheeks, but men don't cry. I was mistaken. i must have been. It was impossible. He whispered, 'yes boss' to Lincoln.

    There it was settled. The nuances of that I couldn't guess at, but the first step was taken. Lincoln would own me. Lincoln would control me. Mark was pushed out. Just how far, well I suppose that depended on what Lincoln wanted, how well my husband responded. Rock this boat and only Mark would take a dip.

    Lincoln returned his stare to me. His eyes softened. They crinkled as he saw the way I panted, the look of arousal on my face. His fingers were exquisite. He rolled my sex lips easily, his fingers, two three, inside, teasing upwards and to the fore where it really matters for a woman.

    'You need that?' he enquired.

    I nodded eagerly. The urge to buck and grind on his hand were immense. But I felt terrified, awed, wondrous that such a beautiful man was taking charge of me. I trembled instead, waiting for any signal of what he demanded that I do. I felt him reach one of my arms upwards. I was to respond to him. I was to kiss him eagerly in front of Mark. I did that. Without compunction, I ran my arms up about his neck, my watch sliding down my wrist and my red finger nails meshing with Lincoln's tight curly black hair. My eyes begged him for kisses. My cunt started to move against his hand. I glanced over his shoulder at the man who didn't matter now and though it shames me, i know I considered him with disdain. You cry. You cry my head whispered within, no man cries, no man cries.

    'You treat him like shit…' Lincoln warned, 'no ambiguity, no apologies, no may be's once in a while…hard you hear?'

    He was right. He knew it as if from his gut. He knew it from deep and dark within. There could be no slipping this way and that. There could be no little forgivenesses, or reconsiderations.

    I nodded. If I was to have what I craved, if I was to be with Lincoln, then there could be no Mark, at least no Mark the man.

    Lincoln kissed me 'good girl'. I moaned softly. His fingers, his fingers….

    'Get over here, drop her skirt' ordered Lincoln.

    I watched Mark freeze.

    I saw Lincoln look his way again, a dark and inpatient look. Mark was going to get hurt, unless he did as he was told.

    I watched Mark move. It was as if he had been paralysed at first and then he lurched awkwardly forward. He came over, his hands shaking now. Between us one of them went, feeling the pressure of our bodies one to the other and then without sight he felt down and released the button of my skirt waist band. Lincoln pulled his wet fingers from out of my cunt. He showed them, covered, glistening, smelling of need to Mark and my skirt dropped to the floor.

    'Her panties' Lincoln ordered next.

    Mark dropped those too, slipping them down and shuddering as he saw the impact. My sex already wet, my curly hair matted with juices and my sex lips swollen. When a woman wants a man, really wants a man, her cunt engorges, her nipples harden, she must have him. She must have his cock inside her. It is as basic and terrible as that. More tears, now, now I cannot deny it, Mark is sobbing, his body shaking with the emotion. Nothing moves Lincoln, my husband's tears, his shame, his abject defeat. He angles his body a little so that my husband can watch him push his fingers back up into me. He moves his fingers and I start to gyrate on his hand, responding, responding to his touch.

    'She been on heat for me for a while huh?' he asked Mark, casually, as if they were chatting in a pub.

    Mark gulps, swallowing down his abject misery and nods.

    'Her cunt man, it gonna addict her to my prong….it gonna be used to rule you man' he observed. So cruel. yet he knew. He knew. It was his heritage to get all the cunt that he wanted. The other married girl, how she must have squirmed and squealed through her climaxes, when he inseminated her, when she caught because her body had ached so hard for him.

    'You gonna lick it when I say, you gonna smell it too' he warned my husband darkly. I felt his fingers slip out of me. Oh God! I wanted them back there. I wanted his fingers inside me. Instead he held them up in the face of my husband. I watched him sniff as Lincoln gestured him to.

    'That's what bitch heat smells like boy. That's cos she wants me to fuck her' Lincoln sneered.

    Mark blushed. Lincoln was right. He was always right. He was always best and the more I thought about it the harder my teats grew.

    'Lick it off my fingers' Lincoln ordered.

    Mark obeyed. Mark obeyed and he closed his eyes, panting with the sudden shame of defeat. He tasted my obsession for Lincoln, he tasted my destiny, to open my legs eagerly for his boss whenever and however he wanted.

    'Kneel' said Lincoln and with a firm hand be pushed my husband down onto the carpet. I watched Mark crumble, like a block of flats going down at demolition.

    'Lick' he ordered next.

    I waited, my legs slightly akimbo. There was no script in my head, no realisation about how this would feel. I stared down at him incredulous, a broken male taking direction. When his tongue an up my cunt I thrilled inside. It was like a current had passed through me. I clung to Lincoln, my nails digging into his arms. I felt Mark start to lap.

    'He's to be used…when I'm not here to fuck you, you're to use him….thinking about me. Like this, like this' Lincoln mumbled. I started to push my cunt against my husband's face, guessing what was required. I felt Mark's nose slide up and down my slit too. I needed him steady though, so I took hold of his head and wiped my cunt on his mouth.

    'Like that!' smiled Lincoln.

    I groaned. I groaned savouring the absolute control that Lincoln showed. Yes, yes……………….like that.

    Mark was snivelling. He was snivelling as he licked me.

    'Your cock gone stiff?' Lincoln asked brusquely.

    Mark looked up at him, his face wet from tonguing. He nodded, blinking back more tears.

    'Show her' instructed Lincoln.

    I watched my husband unzip his fly and take out his cock. It was small, but perfectly hard. It had stretched, trying to be a man's tool and his little foreskin had pulled back so his glans peeped forth.

    'Wank' ordered Lincoln.

    I watched my husband touch himself. I watched him catch hold of his pencil and jerk almost brutally back and forth. Mark grimaced. Mark gasped as he worked his cock.

    Casually, as if the appointed hour had come, as if the moment that all had waited so anxiously but patiently for arrived, and Lincoln pulled out his cock. It was still too. It was bullet stiff and gnarled. He was circumcised and the helmet head looked raw, angry as if it was accustomed to ruling by force. I stroked it, feeling its girth, looking down at Mark has he pulled on his winky. I moved the meaty glans to my wet sex and without comment, without undue ceremony, at eye level to my husband, Lincoln pushed inside me. It wasn't a jerk, or snatch, it was a slow, insistent progression as inch by inch Lincoln took me. I felt his thick shaft penetrate me and then his handsome black balls come to rest against the very tops of my thighs. He groaned softly with the pleasure of it.

    'That good bitch?' he grunted.


    'You like it bare?'


    'You wanting my spunk up you?'

    'yes' and then, then a soft aching moan. It escaped me without consent, it escaped into the room. I was moving, moving against Lincoln, feeling how big he was. He moved into me, angling his thrusts so his pubes bumped against my clitty. Harder and harder he drove. I clung to him ,begging for kisses, by turn closing my eyes, feeling his power, glancing down, watching my husband toss his load. There, almost immediately, little spurts of failure, an eruption of second rate genes, splashing onto the carpet beneath him. He grunted. He cursed and clenched his teeth.

    'I'm going to make such a bitch out of you' snarled Lincoln as he fucked up hard inside me.

    'Please…..please…..God……oh please!' I whimpered.

    We locked. A collision of bodies, a thumping great bang into one another and then hooked like dogs in the street, we squirmed and gyrated whilst Lincoln inseminated me. I felt his load, so large, so thick, white soup, rich and hot surging up into me. The head load, thicker than the squirting after load, hosing up into me and making me judder.

    My husband sobbed.

    'Fuck….oh fuck darling…..' I gasped uncontrollably. I felt my cunt spasming, gripping, gripping onto him. I felt my whole body aching as if I wanted to get inside him. His nails dug into my bottom, holding my cunt steady so I got absolutely everything.

    'You been wanting this….' Lincoln asked amidst his gravelly groans…

    'yes….yes…..always…..I love you' I stammered.

    He kissed me hard. He loved it, the absolute confession, the stiletto blade I had just stuck in Mark. Has been. Second rate.

    'I'll sleep over, he stays down here' growled Lincoln.

    'Yes….yes….please' I whimpered.

    Now the gush lessened. I felt his cock ease, his balls settle a little from their frantic clenching. I felt the hard muscles of his thighs soften a little as he emptied into me. What had started ruthless hard was now delicious soft.

    'I've always adored you' I admitted staring deep into his eyes.

    He kissed my eyelids, one, two.

    'Good, ' he responded, 'and you'll make him do what we want?' Lincoln glanced down at my husband.

    'Yes. If you want me to get rid of him….'

    'No need' Lincoln laughed, 'no need…he's as good as gold'.

    I felt the mess when Lincoln pulled out of me. I felt it like I imagine it feels when your waters burst. A sudden release of fluid, my own urgent desires for him the alpha seed that he had pumped into me. My whole body shook. I felt my hand shaking, shaking against his broad chest. When I looked down his cock glistened, thick and muscular, a master weapon for a alpha man. Mark stared at it as though he'd met a boa constrictor in a tunnel. There was shock, then awe and then another defeat, another terrible realisation.

    'Fuck off and clean yourself up' ordered Lincoln dismissing him.

    I watched Martin get up, his cock still sticking out of his pants. He looked as if he had wet himself, there were little wet patches everywhere. I watched him walk away to the kitchen unsteadily. There was a utility room toilet through there. I imagined him staring into the mirror above the sink, trying to wash and then dry his willy and crying all over again. Right then, no compassion. To be honest, I felt disgust. I felt disgust that he had cried. If he wanted me to be with Lincoln, as was ordained, then at least have the strength of conviction to support it. Don't cry, don't drivel, don't blub, I don't know. He seemed a little animal then, a sad little animal waiting to be taken to the vet and disposed of.

    'It has to be this way.' Lincoln advised. He kissed me tenderly on the lips. He kissed the front of my throat and I wanted him all over again.

    'yes' I agreed. Yes I thrilled to the idea. He knew so much. He expected so much. Me, his conquest. God.

    'Pop upstairs, want you naked on that bed' said Lincoln firmly.

    I nodded and walked to the stairs. My legs felt like jelly. My heart was pounding. Down stairs, as i reached the landing, I heard Lincoln, I heard him.

    'My bitch, your mistress you hear?'

    I lay on the cool sheets and gently ran my fingers down to my sex. My pussy was awash with semen. My sex gaped. My skin tingled when I touched myself. There was the sounds of footsteps on the stairs as Lincoln ascended.
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