Damien Times Two

Let me know in a week or so? What did that mean? Over the next 3-4 days Diane was busy; busy getting her hair done, busy getting her nails done, busy getting her legs waxed. As if she were preparing for something special. And busy in other ways. As in sex. She was ravenous about it; we did it on the stairs, on the floor, in the kitchen, two, even three times a day. I had never seen her so wanton. As if something animalistic was awakened inside her. As events unfolded I should have sensed what might be taking place. But for now, I was content to fuck her every which way.

Perhaps the telling point was her dirty talk during sex. Before, Diane was never a talker during sex; now she couldn’t shut up. It was “Fuck me harder!” and “Give it to me, give me your cock!” And a few other things that in retrospect should have been a signal. Such as “Fuck me like Damien did that day at the pool!” and “Jam it in me, just like that big black cock I had.”

By Wednesday of the following week I was plain worn out from fucking Diane continuously. Luckily I was scheduled to be out of town overnight Thursday on business. As I was packing I happened to overhear bits and pieces of Diane’s conversation on the phone.

“Yes, I’ll be alone tomorrow”, “Don’t worry everything is okay”, and “See you at nine.”

What was this I thought? On Thursday I left, ostensibly for the airport, however, I had cancelled my travel plans. I planned to show up at the house sometime after nine that night. Just to see what Diane was up to.

At about 9:45 that night I parked my car down the street and walked to my house. A strange car was parked in the driveway and the house looked dark. I quietly let myself in and waited until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I needn’t have been concerned with sounds; loud rock music blared from the second floor. There was a faint light coming from the second floor, from the master bedroom. I made my way up the stairs, and paused at the doorway to look.

You’ve heard the term “book-ended”? Well, that was what I saw. Diane was kneeling on the bed with Damien from the pool encounter in front of her, kissing her. That was not all. A Damien-clone was behind her with his hands rubbing her shoulders and ass, kissing the back of her neck. My wife was in bed with not one, but two black men. And they were twins! I instantly recalled Diane telling me that Damien had a twin brother; this must be him (I later learned his name-Devin).

I heard Diane plead, “Fuck me and let me suck your cocks. I want one big black cock in my pussy and one in my mouth.” And that was exactly what they did. Devin pushed Diane down on the bed, lifted her legs and pushed his cock into her. Damien grabbed Diane’s hair and **** her head into position so she could suck his cock. And suck him she did.

I grew hard watching, took out my cock and began stroking it. I watched as two young black studs, Damien and Devin, fucked my forty year-old wife, again and again. They were oblivious to anything but their pleasure; certainly they did not see me. Or so I thought.

They changed positions with Diane on top of Damien (or Devin, I could not tell them apart), his cock inside her, while the other brother pushed her forward and inserted his cock in her ass. I wondered what it must feel like for the three of them, Diane with two black cocks, Damien and Devin pummeling her pussy and ass, only a thin membrane to separate their cocks.

As I watched and pumped my cock, I failed to hear the door open downstairs and a figure quickly ascend the stairs. I was ready to cum, and the three of them were already in the throes of orgasm, when a hand softly touched my shoulder.

I looked over my shoulder and there stood Cindy, with a look of pain on her face. She spoke the words “That bitch” but no one in the room could hear her for the loud music. She was angry and started to go into the bedroom but I restrained her, taking her down the stairs away from the bedroom.

I led her to the patio and asked, “What is it, why are you angry? It wasn’t but a week or so ago the three of you were fucking on this very deck.”

“Your wife is a bitch, Mr. P.”, she said, “She has been chasing after Damien all the last week. Now he says he doesn’t want to see me again. Says he is turned on by an older woman. Says she will fuck him and Devin at the same time. Damn it, I would do that too if he asked me.” And she began to cry.

I tried to console her and, as I held her in my arms, remembered the really splendid fucking she had given me earlier. An idea formed.

“I have an idea how you can get back at both of them,” I said.

Her eyes brightened. “You do?” she said.

“Sure,” I said, “Just listen.”