When Brianna met Whitney - Chapter 4

Brianna and Whitney became best friends following the visit by financial auditor Andrew (Whitney's partner) to the small defence company co-owned by Brianna and her husband, Brad. All had secrets that, initially, they would have preferred the others didn't know about, but it soon became apparent that they had a shared interest in the same thing, that is, Black cock impregnating white women. Whitney has married her ‘sub’ Andrew, twice. The first time in a conventional wedding ceremony attended by her up-tight conservative parents; the second time in an impromptu Cuckold ritual after her parents had left for home and an official declaration was made in homage to Black Cock. An exhausting celebration followed and the happy couple left the following day for a honeymoon in the Caribbean.

Read on:


“Place your seat in the upright position; stow your tray table and ensure your seatbelt is fastened. The toilets are no longer to be used …” intoned the voice of an unseen cabin crew member. A message that caused Whitney to awake from her slumber and to look out of the window and see the lush green island of Barbados shimmering below as the Jet Blue Airbus prepared to land at Grantley-Adams International. She did as instructed and straightened herself in her seat, found Andrew’s hand and gave him a squeeze that he interpreted as meaning that she was very happy to have married him and was grateful for bringing her to such a lovely looking place …

… whereas she really meant was ‘how lucky am I to have married someone who is content to be bossed around and clearly gets his kicks from watching me have fun with other guys’.

In truth, she should have also added that she was still feeling a bit sore from the multiple black cocks that she had enjoyed the night before at their wedding reception but to have made mention of that may have spoilt the moment. She was also very aware that her breath must be less than pleasant due to the number of those cocks that had been in her mouth so she considerately did not give him a ‘thank you kiss’.

New husband Andrew was still feeling a little uncomfortable about what he had gotten himself into by marrying her even though he was secretly delighted that his voyeur fetish of seeing people fucking, especially if it was a black man fucking a white woman, was now being satisfied so easily.

He was also very aware that this marriage was almost one of convenience and that whilst it was very firmly based on love and affection for each other that he was going to be very much the subservient partner and that he would be doing whatever it took to satisfy his wife’s own desires and fetishes … although he was struggling to get over the mental block of it now being his wife that was going to be the white woman in question. Exactly how that was going to pan out in Barbados, he wasn’t too certain, but knowing her newfound attitudes and having observed his wife’s recent behaviour he decided he would just ‘go with the flow’ and let events take their natural course.

The Airbus touched down and the passengers complimented the pilot by giving a smattering of applause and a few ‘WooHoos’ in admiration of him making another landing that they could safely walk away from. Thereafter it was a scramble as the aircraft rolled to a halt on the stand and everyone it seemed ignored the further instruction to remain seated until the seatbelt sign was switched off; bags were hauled from overhead lockers and folks stood dumbly waiting for the doors to be opened!

“Welcome to Barbados … how long are you staying?” the passport-checker asked Andrew.

Whitney answered for him, “10 days, is that long enough to enjoy our honeymoon?” she asked cheekily.

He eyed her figure-hugging sundress with the low-cut neckline and the cleavage of her breasts and smirked as he stamped and handed back her passport, “Lady, you’ve come to the right place … but best not tell your husband what youse getting up to while your here!” he said with a laugh.

Andrew felt even more uncomfortable at the implications behind that remark.

They emerged into the baggage hall and the melee of handlers and porters who jostled and vied for their attention and the offer to take care of their bags … for a fee. Andrew tried to ignore their aggressive pleas, which was difficult, but was saved from further embarrassment when Whitney tugged on his arm and said, “Oh my God, look, there’s Craig!”

Sure enough, he looked in the direction of her pointing finger and there was a large black man holding aloft a piece of cardboard upon which was scrawled ‘Welcome Whitney and Andrew’ … but it wasn’t Craig. (Indeed, how could it be as Craig and his companion Antoine had been left snoring back in upstate New York when the newlyweds had left earlier that morning.)

“Yo, Whitney. Welcome to Barbados. I’m Dale, Craig’s twin brother. He tol me I gotta take care of you folks.”

Explanation provided and relief all round that there was someone in a ‘strange land’ that would be guiding the way.

Dale found a baggage cart and with Andrew identifying the bags as they approached on the carousel their luggage was soon being propelled out of the arrivals hall door and into the warmth of the Caribbean sunshine. They followed him to a very smart looking minibus parked at the kerbside with two other black guys seated on the driver’s bench.

“Say hello to Richard, he’s our driver today and he’s a cousin.” Dale made no mention of the other guy.

Richard nodded a greeting in his direction, but his attention was clearly focussed on Whitney whom he had already decided would make a fine conquest given that ‘this what these white bitches come to the island for, isn’t it?’ He licked his lips and Whitney blushed when she recognised the look in his eye. The other guy smirked to see it.

Andrew was soon to learn that ‘cousin’ was a loosely applied term as far as Barbados was concerned as he grappled with feelings of inadequacy with yet another situation whereby an Alpha male had demonstrated that he just couldn’t cut it as far as his wife was concerned. Even before the bags were loaded, it was clear to him that this honeymoon was not going to be spent in a traditional fashion.

The drive away from the airport was to be relatively short for Dale told them that he had arranged accommodation on the South of the island. He said that Craig had told him to do so as in comparison to the more developed West coast with its swanky hotels and exclusive complexes they would enjoy a more ‘real’ experience in a smaller apartment within a local community.

Andrew listened to this explanation from the rear bench of the minibus where he had been sat with the bags shoved in alongside. Whitney and Dale clambered in to sit on the seat in front of him and after having listened to the shouted introductions he settled back to enjoy the passing views.

However, they had hardly left the airport before Whitney had snuggled up to Dale and although he would really would have preferred to to see what there was to be seen of the passing countryside the combination of her giggling, Dale’s Bajan banter and the questioning from the ‘cousins’ sitting up front made it difficult to concentrate. He turned away from the window and was confronted by the sight of Whitney locked in a passionate embrace with Dale.

Grief, they hadn’t been here but half an hour and already she was ‘playing away’ he thought.

The cousins made complimentary comments as they looked back at them whilst Andrew could only guess what was going on unseen. He didn’t have to wonder for long for suddenly as they sped along the wide road Dale pulled away from her and said with an approving laugh, “Wow girl, you’ve got no panties on. Are you ready to play so soon?”

Andrew figured out pretty quickly that, out of sight, Dale had been feeling her up his wife beneath her short dress. The cousins joined in the laughter and to his discomfort realised from their position that they could see very clearly what Dale was referring to.

Whitney replied with a giggle, “Yeah, I thought I may as well start my holiday in the right frame of mind!”

It was Andrew’s turn to blush when Dale said, “Well, I reckon you’ve certainly made things easier for us to help you enjoy it then!”


The minibus turned off the highway and entered the parish known as St. Laurence, a compact area of small hotels and apartments, a small collection of roadside shops and seemingly the beach at the end of every track. Richard expertly squeezed between parked cars to reach an unassuming building which was set back a little from an idyllic looking beach. The house was called ‘White Castle’ and comprised of a few apartments which, on the ground floor, had patios whilst the second level had balconies.

Dale helped Whitney from the bus leaving Andrew to extract himself from the jumble of bags and cases that surrounded him on the back seat. She gave a squeal of delight as he led her through a side entrance and onto the patio where she took in the view of the blue sea, white sand and the palm trees that fringed the beach. It was quite perfect and the stuff of travel brochures. Set to one side of the patio was a gate with a short flight of steps which went down to the beach.

Whitney was about to go through the gate when remembered that she had left her husband behind. She called for him to hurry up and join her so that they could kick off their shoes and prance about like a couple of kids and luxuriate in the feel of the warm sand between their toes. Dale and his cousins watched with amusement from the parapet that surrounded the patio.

They returned to the apartment under the scrutiny of other couples who were lounging about on sunbeds scattered around the beach. Whitney chose to ignore their stares and instead resumed her bossy attitude toward her bemused husband saying, “Andrew, get the bags sorted out whilst Dale shows me around and tells me what’s what.” He was unsure what she meant by ‘what’s what’ but had an idea that she wasn’t really interested in anything other than having Dale continuing with his own explorations.

The cousins dumped the luggage on the steps and said their goodbyes leaving Andrew to carry them into the apartment. As he expected, when entering the apartment, it was to find that Whitney and Dale were already getting to reacquaint themselves with each other and as they sat on the sofa, he could then share in what others had seen in the minibus; Dale had his hand up her dress and with spread legs he could see her neatly trimmed pussy being explored by his big black hand.

“Hell girl, have you already been fucked?” he said as his fingers slid into her.

She giggled and gesturing toward Andrew said, “Don’t ask ... we had a very heavy night last night, didn’t we darling?!”

Dale nodded and laughed in return as he examined his sticky fingers for his brother Craig had already advised him by email of the shenanigans of the Cuckold wedding ceremony the night before. By the same email his brother had also advised (and to paraphrase) that ‘this crazy lady’ seemed to have a thing about seeing men ejaculate and if the cock was black, so much the better! With that knowledge, he unzipped his shorts and (as always, was wearing no underwear) Andrew was wide-eyed at the sight of the big black cock as it sprung out of the confines of Dale’s clothing. Whitney was equally impressed, and she quickly reached over to grasp his semi-rigid shaft, “Mmmm, what a nice welcome,” she said with a gleam in her eye.

Dale lifted up and shuck off his shorts so that he was sitting there with just a tee shirt pulled up above his waist. Whitney took this as an invitation to lean over and to take him in her mouth. It became an impossible task for as he became more erect and thicker her rosebud mouth struggled to accommodate the massive tool. No matter, Whitney was a game-girl and with the experience of the night before to assist she applied herself to taking as much as she could into her mouth and all the while licking and nibbling away at the shiny ebony plum. Dale murmured his approval and said, “Yeah, Craig mentioned you were good at this.”

Andrew stood transfixed, the baggage forgotten, feeling his own cock stiffening as he took in the erotic sight of his new wife and Dale making out before him. Accepting there was nothing he could say to bring attention back to himself he thought to unzip his own pants so that he might stroke and better enjoy this unexpected voyeur’s delight. Such thoughts were crushed when Whitney lifted up and glanced over to her hapless husband and said, “Andrew, I’m dying for a warm drink, coffee or something .. can you pop up to that Supermarket we passed on the way in and get a few provisions?”

He was stunned. ‘How on earth could she think of such a thing at such a time and, more important, how could she do this to me, a voyeur, denying me watching the thing she knows I love to be doing?’

He gave the only response available to him, “Erm, yes Dear,” as, without waiting for his answer, she turned her attention back to Dale.

The store was a short walk away and not wishing to waste time Andrew covered the distance in record time. He dashed around the aisles and shelves gathering a jar of coffee and together with a few other provisions and presented himself to a checkout clerk who made no comment or gave any assistance as he tried to fathom the prices or sought to identify the banknotes recently acquired at the airport. She idly turned the items slowly over as she looked for the barcode labels and he felt himself screaming inside for her to hurry up and get on with it so that he could get back to the apartment and resume spying on the ‘entertainment’. His frustrations further increased as no bag was offered to carry the purchases and he ended up clutching the groceries to his chest and stumbling back up the road continually dropping things and having to stop to retrieve them.

His diligence was rewarded when on regaining the apartment, as expected, he heard the ‘sounds of sex’ as he went through the door. He dumped the provisions on the kitchen counter and went back through to the lounge and there was the delicious sight of Whitney kneeling on the sofa with her back towards Dale who standing behind her and was fucking her just like a dog. She heard her husband come in and turning her head toward him looked with half-closed eyes that weren’t really seeing him at all.

Andrew leaned against the doorway and marvelled at the sight of Dale and his big, thick black cock thrusting into his dear wife’s accommodating cunt. They had obviously been at it for as long as he had been absent as the squishing sound suggested that she had already climaxed. If there had been any doubts it was dispelled as she cried out, “Oh God, I’m cumming again ... ahhh.” In response to her cries Dale began to stroke in and out even quicker and as Whitney began to squeal out her orgasm he suddenly pulled out and with a grunt a torrent of sperm spurted and gushed out of his glistening cock to flood her butt cheeks, her back and the sun dress that was now bunched up above her waist.

Andrew was breathless as he watched Dale collapse over her, his still stiff cock resting between her cheeks and continuing to dribble his spunk which slithered down to join the other juices that were flowing out of her gaping red sopping pussy. They paid him no mind when this time he managed to unzip his pants and instantly his less impressive cock poked out. He reached down but was so overcome by what he had just witnessed that he was unsure if he had already come himself for his hand became covered in his own emissions but that didn’t prevent him from having the most delightful sensations rubbing himself as he spread his slickness over his rigid penis.

Dale literally fell off her to sit back on the seat of the sofa, his cock sticking up and still looking impressively stiff. Whitney likewise fell to sit alongside him. As she gathered her breath, she turned to see her husband standing there wanking, covered in his wetness.

“Have you put the kettle on yet?” was all she said.


The following day they awoke to forecasted sunshine and the world looked a different place for several reasons but, as they took stock of their surroundings, Andrew reflected that her behaviour and attitudes towards him on the journey and arrival the day had been particularly mean and he told her so.

Whitney countered with that she’d been playing with him and that her seeming indifference of yesterday was in keeping with the rules of their marriage contract, their ‘game’ and that he should have expected nothing less. “Today,” she said, “it is going to be all about us and finding our way around this lovely land …” She promised Andrew that she intended to be ‘all sweetness and light’ towards him and added that Dale had said he would be coming by later to take them out and show them around.

Andrew observed the look of anticipation on her face which gave him pause to think, “Hmm, we’ll see how long the ‘sweetness and light’ lasts then.”

White Castle was perfectly positioned over-looking the beach. To the left and set back a little was a beach bar and restaurant, the Caribbean Bar, which had tables set out on a deck covered by a tent-like canopy, a hint that rain frequently fell to dampen the scenery. They wandered around to have a look before checking out another beach bar to the right which had a collection of tables and benches and sold food from a short order menu. As he led them in that direction Dale told that come the weekend there would be a Barbeque and Music, he leaned close to Whitney and murmured, “… and much more.!”

Andrew was uncertain what ‘much more’ referred to but with Whitney and Dale exchanging knowing glances he was left to speculate on what might be in store come the weekend.

They wandered away from the beach and gaining the main road Dale steered them toward a substantial Supermarket which, as Whitney observed, would provide for their self-catering needs. They perused the shelves and she said, “Oh Andrew look, you’ll be able to look after me here quite well after all. There’s everything here that you need to do just as you are going to be doing when we are at home, cook delicious meals when we entertain our friends.”

This was a bit of a surprise to Andrew for he hadn’t realised that his new wife was so forward thinking, that is, post-honeymoon and what they might be doing when they got home. No matter, as they made their way back to the beach he trailed behind them, seeing them holding hands, he had an uneasy feeling that her ideas weren’t boding well for any honeymoon plans that he might have in mind.


The sun disappeared below the horizon giving a spectacular show of a Caribbean sunset and as expected, Dale reappeared. He ignored the obvious that they were still clad in damp swimming costumes and asked, “OK, you Guys ready to party?”

Bemused Whitney enquired, “Party, what party?”

“Well, tonight is Friday and you know what happens here on a Friday?” They both looked at him dumbly. Not getting an answer he continued, “Duh, it’s Fish Fry night; we’re going to Oistins to party, everyone’ll be there.”

“Oooh, that sounds fun … ,” cooed Whitney in a mock fashion, “ …. give me a couple of minutes to get changed ….” and disappeared into the bedroom and soon after stepped out wearing, well, almost not very much Andrew thought; a cropped tee-shirt which left her tummy well *******, with a low neckline that showed off her delightful cleavage (he noted that she hadn’t bothered to put on a bra) but she had put on a pair of denim shorts and on her feet a pair of sandals to complete the ensemble that to his mind was more appropriate attire for a teenager rather than a married lady. However, despite his sniffy reservations he had to admit that she looked hot and he was inwardly excited at the prospect of seeing his wife in the company of leering black boys and men.

Dale growled his approval at the sight of her scanty outfit as Andrew quickly ducked into the bedroom to find something appropriate but not quite as revealing to wear. He was but a few moments but on his return it was to see them oblivious to his return and already making towards the door.

He sighed, followed them out of the apartment and trailed along behind Whitney holding Dale’s hand.

The journey to Oistins was a revelation when they were introduced to the ubiquitous ‘Boogie Buses’, 14 seat minibuses which careered up and down set routes and for a flat fare carried passengers as far as the route would take them with the added provision of belting reggae music turned up to ear-bleeding levels as a form of ‘in-flight entertainment’. There were no defined bus-stops and any pedestrian was regarded as a potential customer.

So it was that as the trio joined the main road a bus soon came by, screeched to a stop and they were literally hauled in by the ‘conductor’ to join the throng inside who numbered far more people than the prescribed 14 seats. Once inside, it appeared to Andrew that most of the other passengers were dreadlocked males who made no secret about looking at Whitney as she was grabbed by Dale to sit on his lap.

As the bus took off on its mission of finding more passengers, Dale straightaway shoved his hand between her thighs and let his thumb disappear under the hem of her short shorts. Whitney gave a gasp and smirked at him as he slowly wiggled his hand; the Dreads in the bus who could see what was going on just smirked along with her; Andrew just hung on for dear life and hoped that they would survive the manic driving.

The bus reached Oistins and the door was slid open and everyone spilled out onto the sidewalk to join the masses of people who were milling aimlessly about. With Dale firmly holding Whitney’s hand, Andrew was left to follow trying to keep up them in sight.

They crossed the road and were instantly swathed in the smoke and delicious smells emanating from the grills and kitchens of the food outlets ranked alongside the sidewalk. Some of the places were proper open-air cafe/restaurants; other establishments were just a collection of benches and tables grouped around an open BBQ grill. All of them were well patronised and busy and as they wandered along, they could see fish of every shape and size sizzling away over hot coals but Dale chose to walk by and gestured instead toward one particular outlet down the street. Shouting over the noise being created by the mass of people and the music that was pumping out from some unseen source, said, “We’ll eat over there; it’s run by my cousin.”

“A cousin; there’s a surprise,” Andrew thought.

They sat down at a bench and without being asked, bottles of Banks beer appeared and shortly afterwards plates of grilled fish and salads were placed on the table by the cousin. He was introduced to Whitney by Dale but somehow Andrew’s presence was overlooked and so he contented himself with picking at the food and watch as Dale and his cousin both began to openly flirt with his wife. However, the background noise was such that the cousin had to lean close to her to make himself heard. She in turn had to lean forward which made her tee shirt gape open giving everyone an unfettered sight of her lovely tits and nipples. The cousin took this to be an invitation let his hand slip inside her loose top and whatever it was that he had spoken into her cupped ear it was clearly something very saucy as she laughed and playfully batted his hand away from her breast where it had ‘accidently’ fallen.

And so it continued as they ate their meals. The two dreadlocked studs continued with their banter (from which Andrew was excluded) and Whitney was lapping up the attention along with the Rum Punches that Dale had ordered for her. Despite being excluded from the ‘conversation’ Andrew nodded knowingly and smiled inwardly aware that alcohol isn’t something she handled well. She’d proven her intolerance at the wedding ‘reception’ and he knew would not take long before she would be totally compliant to any suggestions that Dale or the ‘cousin’ might make. She occasionally glanced in his direction to give him a reassuring smile but he was already resigned to the fact that as far as she was concerned his only role was to be the provider of funds to pay any bill and other than that his company was neither required nor necessary in order for her to continue along the road where she was going to have a good time.

Also, unsaid, they both knew that Andrew’s pay-off would be the chance to watch her engage sexually with whomever she chose to invite. It was in the ‘rules’.

They finished their meals and at Dale’s suggestion the four of them made their way to the area where the music was being broadcast from a massive wall of speakers. To one side of the open area was a DJ with a console of equipment and as they stood it was to view a surreal scene of a mass of swaying couples (mostly interracial) bopping around in time to thumping reggae music which was seemingly being directed by the DJ ‘mission controller’. They surveyed the scene for a while and then when a slow number began to play Dale grabbed Whitney’s hand and pulled her onto the floor. Andrew and the cousin were left standing to observe that his wife was acting very ***** but, he suspected, given the number of Rum Punches she had been fed, it wasn’t really an act!

With so many people already on the dance floor, they were unable to move too far away and Andrew was able to enjoy the clear sight of Dale grinding himself against her in time to the music. She clearly was enjoying the close contact and she responded to the attention by reciprocating and pushing her pussy against him and his ever-swelling cock. The cousin gave him a nudge to confirm he had seen what was going on and Andrew returned his unspoken query with a weak smile.

He was almost too embarrassed to look as their behaviour was so obvious but, looking around, he noted that most couples were doing much the same, it was so blatant. The music continued with its thumping hypnotic beat and soon the pair of them were gyrating in time with each other, holding each other close and their groins and pubes pressed against each other with only the layers of flimsy clothing keeping them from coupling in every sense of the word. Andrew was transfixed at the shear eroticism of their display which hadn’t passed unnoticed by others who were dancing around them. The cousin gave him another nudge and said, “What do think White Boy; is he going to give your wife a good seeing to, or what?”

The Barry White number ended and Dale leaned closer to whisper something in her ear, whatever it was he said she nodded enthusiastically and then stole a glance and gave a wink in Andrew’s direction as she at last acknowledged his presence through her dreamy drunken eyes.

The DJ announced he was taking a breather and so began a migration of couples wandering back to their tables or just retreating to the edge of the dance floor. A few others, hand-in-hand, gravitated toward the speaker wall to disappear into the gloom of the dark passageways that the speakers were shielding.

Andrew pondered as to what the hidden attraction behind the wall might be but seeing Whitney and Dale moving in that direction he was left in no doubt for what purpose the barrier was shielding. With a catch in his throat, he saw them slipping behind the wall and he instantly knew what the appeal was; they were going to find a dark corner to continue ‘their dance’ in private.

The cousin was also taking interest. He grasped Andrew’s arm and said, “Come on, let’s go see.”

Andrew stumbled along as he was pulled in the direction where his lovely, drunken, sluttish wife had last been seen. They followed her path and squeezed behind the speakers and found themselves in a passageway that passed between the rear of the food outlets on the street and, on the other side, the counters and slabs of the fish market which operated through the day. There were a few illuminated spots where light spilled out from doors and windows of kitchens but in the main the passage was in darkness.

The cousin was clearly conversant with the area and he unhesitatingly pulled Andrew along to a particular spot where in the gloom they could see Dale leaning back, his shorts down around his ankles and Whitney half kneeling in front of him just about to gobble down his half erect cock. Dale looked up as they approached and with eyes becoming accustomed to the gloom Andrew had no difficulty in recognising the smirk that denoted Dale’s sense of superiority over him. Whitney meanwhile gave no indication that she was aware of being watched and certainly had no idea that her husband had followed her.

Andrew leaned back against the wall behind him and as he watched the scene before him start to take shape he became aware that his little dickie had begun to stiffen within the confines of his shorts. He became even more excited when he looked around and saw that there were other couples doing much the same with one of them already in the midst of an intense rough fuck a few yards from where Whitney and Dale were playing. This was a voyeur’s dream come true he excitedly thought.

“Hee, heh; I told you she was going to get some attention, didn’t I?” said the cousin (Andrew never did find out his name) and with a nudge into his ribs he went over to join them leaving Andrew standing there trembling with anticipation at what was about to happen.

It took no time at all Whitney had coaxed Dale’s cock into a magnificent erection. Even in the half-light Andrew could see the thick black shaft being coated with her saliva as she bobbed her head back and forth. Dale leaned forward and pulled up her baggy tee-shirt ******** her tits which were softly swaying in rhythm with her sucking. Andrew noted that she made no objection and clearly liked being *******.

With a mouth full of cock, she murmured her approval and then reached down with her free hand to snap the clip on the waistband of her shorts to allow herself to slide her fingers inside and to play with herself. She tilted her head and saw her husband looking at her and giggled … which he took as a signal to likewise undo his shorts. In no time his stiff little dick was sticking out begging for him to take himself in hand. Cousin looked over and sniggered at what must have seemed to him to be a pathetic excuse for a cock.

Dale also looked over and smiled as he nodded toward his cousin who with no ceremony whatever moved to stand behind Whitney and yank her shorts down so that both she and Dale now provided the slightly ridiculous sight of having their pants down, spilled around their ankles. The cousin then slid down his sweatpants and Andrew gasped to see another big, black stiff penis pop out into the night air and to lodge between his wife’s bum cheeks. Cousin leaned his frame over her back and muttered something in her ear inaudible to Andrew, but he didn’t need to guess what was said for Whitney straightaway lifted her foot to step out of her shorts and deliberately spread her legs all the while continuing to suck and slobber enthusiastically on Dale’s rigid cock. Cousin then pulled back slightly, enough to allow him to align the fat head of his cock with Whitney’s now ******* gaping cunt. She assisted by reaching down and spread the slick, shiny lips with her fingers and with one shove he was inside her almost to the hilt.

Whitney gave a muffled gasp as he entered her, but it wasn’t the sound of protest rather one of relief that her desires were being fulfilled in such a violent fashion. He began to fuck her like a grunting animal with no finesse and her whole frame jerked back and forth in pace with his rutting. Every shove caused her to gulp Dale further down her throat and she added to the mix of sounds with her gasping and gagging. Dale held her shoulders in an attempt to steady her balance all the while groaning as he felt the intense pleasures she was administering to his cock.

As ever Andrew stood mute on the side-lines squeezing his silly little rigid cock which was now totally enveloped in his hand. Pre-cum was streaming between his fingers and he was in voyeur’s heaven as he watched, once again, his compliant wife being abused in the way she wanted to be treated.

How long the performance lasted Andrew had no idea, but all the while Whitney was crying out her approval of being ‘*****’ with continual squeals as she climaxed time and time again. All too soon matters came to their inevitable climax and Cousin gave a final grunt, almost a bellow, and pushed himself forward to shoot his seed inside her willing womb. She moaned out her appreciation and lifted her head just as Dale shot his spunk into her open mouth. Spurt after spurt shot from him and despite her efforts to swallow his ‘nectar’, as she called it, most of his ejaculation streamed out and dribbled down from her chin to drip onto the floor beneath his open legs.

Cousin pulled out and although he already climaxed inside her, his stiff glistening cock was still pulsing and spitting to coat her bum with his cum. He prolonged his pleasure by sliding his obscene looking tool up and down her cheeks so that she ended up being well covered with spunk and her own juices. Andrew groaned inwardly at the sight and waves of pleasure washed over him as he continued to stroke his little cock to an ejaculation of his own. As he shot his own load he was overcome with embarrassment as he recognised the obvious contrast to the amount of sperm that Whitney had received to the evidence of his own orgasm which was a pathetic little puddle on the concrete floor before him.

Whitney’s violators both detached themselves and helped her to her feet. She was distinctly unsteady as she pulled her shorts up and rearranged her tee-shirt to cover her cum stained body. Whether her unsteadiness was the result of the seeing-to she had just received, or the drinks consumed beforehand was uncertain but, whatever, it didn’t seem to detract from the glow of pleasure on her face, she was beaming from ear to ear.

From the dance-floor area the muffled sound of music starting up could be heard once more. Cousin pulled up his sweats and almost without a word set off leaving Dale, husband and wife to straighten themselves out. Andrew had a small frisson of satisfaction as Cousin slightly skidded as he stepped onto his slick little patch of cum as he pushed past.

From out of the gloom another couple who had been enjoying themselves passed by and the expression on their faces wiped the short-lived look of triumph from Andrew’s face when he realised that his zip was open, and his soft little nubbin was ******* to view. Humiliated, he quickly covered himself with his hands as they passed by laughing.


Exactly how they got back to their accommodation was a bit hazy (perhaps more drinks had something to do with the amnesia) but clearly Dale had arranged something to return them safely home, perhaps another bus driving ‘cousin’ had been recruited. They stopped at the top of the road leading to their apartment and as the minibus put into gear Dale called out, “See you at BBQ on Sunday”.

Whitney grasped Andrew’s arm for support, and so they meandered their unsteady way down the path to the apartment. He looked at her and even though it was only the moon providing illumination he had to comment and tell her she looked a mess. There seemed to be drying cum everywhere and at one point during the short walk he just had to stop and examine what her two lovers had done to her. It was then that he saw more spunk dribbling down her legs; grief, how much had they pumped into her?

She giggled when she realised what I was looking at. “That was fun, wasn’t it Andy?”

He had to share her joy for the night had gone exactly as he had hoped. Better yet, she was back and all his again, just as the rules required. He nodded his agreement.

“Come on,” she said taking his arm once more, “let’s get to bed; you’ve got some cleaning up to do.”

As they clambered up the steps he thought, “We haven’t even reached the halfway point in our honeymoon yet. What else can Barbados provide before we go home?”

The answer was provided when on entering the apartment Whitney saw there was text on the mobile phone that she had forgotten to take out with her that evening.

The message was from Brianna, ‘Got 5 days’ vacation. Flying down and we’ll see you tomorrow. XXX’