A Little Thing Called Love

You were perched beside your ex this time, a painful exercise in almost-intimacy. She wasn't looking at you though. She was instead looking into the eyes of her husband, the big, Black Kendi, while his powerful hips drove his massive cock deep into your ex's pussy. His balls loudly slapped your ex's asshole, making her squeal everytime he lurched into you.

"Oh God," Amanda moaned. "Kendi, it's you, it's always been you, I love you so fucking much."

It was painful to hear. And it was partly her **** on your liaison with a white supremacist. She knew just where to get you, and both of you knew it. That she squeezed your hand to emphasis each word just deepened the wound.

You watched her eyes glitter as he came in her, watched them make out heedless to your presence. And then she gripped your chin.

"Go suck on your Master, slut. But don't forget the gift I gave you," she said crisply. A gift, you thought ruefully. Were it that. But you wouldn't get those images out of your head when you served Trevor, that you knew.