DESMOND DEEP! Written by Dex O’Donald (Patreon)

 DESMOND DEEP PUSSY ASSASSIN!

Story by Devin Dickie

Written by Dex O’Donald

© 2019-2050 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved

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 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

DESMOND DEEP PUSSY ASSASSIN!

Story by Devin Dickie

Written by Dex O’Donald

 Day 1

Desmond Deep ducked through the door frame of my house on that fateful Sunday afternoon, and it was as if every argument I’d had with Violet over the last several weeks became a petty memory. Something about the man’s demeanor and presence had a way of setting people at ease, or at least, it certainly set me at ease. The price tag that came with Desmond’s services was significant, and that more than anything else had been the source of Violet and I’s constant quarreling.

But when he reached out his huge, warm hand to mine and shook it with the confidence of a king, I felt quite taken care of, and all those anxieties about cost faded like a half-remembered dream.

“I am Desmond,” he said, his Jamaican accent thick and silky. “You must be Sydney.”

 “That’s right,” I said, shaking his hand in earnest and staring up at the man the way a child does at the ice cream man. “And this is my wife, Violet.”

Violet and I are nearly the same height but somehow, she looked tiny when she placed her hand in his.

“Someone smells good,” Violet said, her ivory smile flashing behind glossy lips. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Desmond. Your reputation precedes you.”

Desmond closed the door behind him. He filled the foyer of our home like a full moon on a starless night. He was dressed in business attire; a fitted suit, black and sharp and flawless.

“Well then,” he said, his voice a rhythmic tone echoing off the high ceiling. “Shall we get right to it then?”

The issues between Violet and I had been building long before we ever heard about Desmond Deep and his

 work as a life coach. We fell into bad habits over time, the usual carelessness of taking each other for granted, which, when looked at from a bird’s eye view, really makes me look like an idiot, for the simple fact that Violet was a catch. The sort of girl that made your friends mumble “out of his league” when they thought you couldn’t hear them. And to be honest, at 5’5, with a slim waist and a pair of double E tits that she was constantly trying to hide, Violet was pretty much out of everyone’s league. The auburn hair, green eyes, and seductive mouth played their part in making her look extraordinary.

And yet, despite her obvious beauty, I neglected Violet. I can see that now, with my defenses removed, and Desmond’s work bone deep in my DNA like obedience training for a guard dog. It’s sort of like when billionaires tell you they aren’t any happier than the homeless – you

 can have it all and yet that happiness meter inside your brain always seems to settle back to its genetic predisposition sooner or later. The sight of Violet’s naked body, once hypnotizing and world destroying, eventually wasn’t enough to pull me away from my late-night video game sessions with my friends. The expertise of her mouth and hips lost their allure in the face of Sunday football. The perfection of her sweet, tucked pussy somehow came in second behind my secret gooning sessions to porn streams that I could never, ever let on about.

I know you’re calling me an idiot for choosing those things over her, and you’re right. But those mistakes don’t happen overnight. It takes years to go blind to what is right in front of you. Lucky for me, Desmond Deep knew how to take those blinders off. Even if their removal was uncomfortable, perhaps almost impossible, at times.

 And so, when things finally came to a head, as they so often do, Violet confronted me about couple’s therapy. My initial reaction was absolutely not. She persisted. When that didn’t work, she turned to her friends, who for the record, I hated. I didn’t need Violet’s girlfriends to know all the inner workings of our personal life, sex life (or lack thereof), included. There was one get-together, where we were amongst several of our closest friends, and after a few glasses of wine Violet let slip that she and I hadn’t copulated in close to two months.

When we got home later that day, I unloaded on her.

“How dare you say that sort of thing in front of our people!” I’d shouted. “Do you have any idea what that makes me look like?”

Violet rolled her eyes, the wine really exaggerating the motion of it. “It’s not about making you look like anything,

 Syd. We haven’t fucked in weeks and that is a fact. If that says something about you, then so be it.”

“But why is that everyone’s business!”

“You refuse to address our problems so what choice do you leave me!”

And on and on the argument went. We didn’t speak for days. But when at last we came to the dinner table to put aside our petty argument, that was when his name first rolled off her lips like a sweet piece of candy gone astray.

“Desmond Deep,” Violet said. “It’s not couples therapy, per say. It’s mor like counseling. A life coach, I guess.”

It was just strange enough for me not to write it off right away. “Where’d you hear about him?” I asked.

“Margie, Tanya, Haley,” Violet replied. “They’ve all had success with him.”

 “In what way?”

“They can’t talk about it too much. For obvious reasons, you have to sign an NDA, otherwise people might just take his practices and publish them as their own. But it’s unconventional, or at least that’s what I’ve heard. But the girls, and their men I might add, can’t seem to shut up about him.”

I pushed aside the anger in my belly. Obviously, this ‘Desmond Deep’ had been brought to her attention sometime after her bold proclamation that I wasn’t fucking her. It was more than a direct result of that humiliation, but since we were in the midst of apologizing to one another, I decided to push that little factoid to the side.

With great patience I reluctantly agreed to consider the possibility of meeting with this mystery man. But when

 I saw his asking price, my patience and understanding dropped off like the Titanic alongside an iceberg.

“Absolutely not!” I said, tossing the pamphlet aside. “We don’t have that kind of cash. Find someone cheaper.”

“But you have the cash for your football games?” Violet said, her eyes narrowing the way they do just before she pushes too far. “Or how about the endless game systems and video games and add ons and purchases I see on the credit card statement every month? Or better yet, Syd, how much are all those porn streams costing you. You know the ones – they keep you up till four in the morning instead of just coming to bed and fucking me.”

That had knocked the wind out of me. I didn’t know she knew about the live streams, so I wasn’t expecting such a quick slash of the dagger. Normally quick to respond

 when in an argument with Violet, I was rendered speechless.

“You don’t think I know?” Violet continued. “Don’t worry, Syd. I’ve no idea what kind of freaky shit you’re whacking until the wee hours of the morning – and I don’t want to know. But if you’ve got time for all that bullshit and no time for me, maybe it isn’t a life coach we should be talking to. Maybe it’s lawyers?”

And there it was. The ultimatum. And no amount of mental gymnastics or half-explanations I could perform were enough to dissuade her. Luckily, there was still enough sense in my head to recognize the severity of the situation, and after a few more days of back and forth, I caved.

“I’m proud of you,” Violet said, the first smile on her face in weeks, her green eyes piercing through my own.

 “We’ve both been in a rut, Syd. This is going to help, I promise. All my friends, and your friends, say this Desmond has a real way with helping men to realize their full potential. And I’ll realize mine, too. I love you, Syd.”

We kissed and made love that night. It was passionate sex, albeit brief. I finished Violet off with my hands and mouths, and things felt good between us. The best in a good long while. It was hope, I think, radiating out and enveloping us. Of course, I had no idea how challenging the week with Desmond was going to be -- it was impossible to know the trials that lay ahead, and had I known, perhaps I’d have not gone through with it all.

It was 4pm when we sat down in the living room across from Desmond on that Sunday afternoon. The Jets game was on the big screen, but I’d muted it out of respect for our guest. When Desmond removed the television

 remote from the coffee table and shut the game off, I must have looked partially stunned, because he noticed my reaction instantly.

“Watching others achieve while we ourselves do not, is poor practice,” Desmond said. “And time away from purpose is time ill spent.”

Unsure how to respond to such a statement, I turned to Violet and raised my eyebrows. She smiled smugly back at me, then turned her full attention to Desmond Deep.

“Now before we begin,” Desmond said, “I want to talk a little bit more about who I am what I do.” His accent lured Violet and I into a slight trance, where words like “I” came out “aye,” and the vowels elongated while consonants came sharp and cutting. “You know my name, and I would like to grant you both permission to use it. We will start with ‘Desmond’ but that may change as we move

 forward. Now, I’m here because you two are having problems. Both in your separate lives, and the one you have together. This week, we will fix both. But to do this so quickly, there is one thing we must have right from the very start, or this whole thing will be for nothing.”

He paused, making eye contact with the both of us, one at a time. Though Desmond was a large man with a shaggy black beard, shoulder length dreadlocks, and a muscular frame, he didn’t seem threatening. Not yet. No, he was the gentle giant on day one, and I fell into that act with full abandonment.

“Truth and honesty,” Desmond said in a sigh, breathy and deep. “If you two cannot be up front with me, and with yourselves, then this is all for not. To get to the root of the issues between you, we must clear the air entirely. So, if I ask you something, I expect an honest answer. I am a fair

 man, I do not judge you ... but if you lie to me you will be wasting my time and yours. And if it is one thing I cannot abide, it is wasted time. Is that clear?”

Violent and I nodded fervently.

“Very good,” Desmond said. “Now. May we begin?” “Of course,” Violet said, an urgency in her tone. Desmond turned his eyes to me. “Sydney, I’m very

excited to work with you and your beautiful wife this week. Please understand that where I’m starting is only because it is the first thing I noticed, and not meant to make you feel uncomfortable. Okay?”

I raised my eyebrows, uncertain of what was coming. “Okay, Desmond. No problem.”

“Would you both mind standing up for me?” Desmond asked.

 Violent and I shrugged and stood. He pointed at Violet first; she wore a white dress that ran past her knees. Her exaggerated bust pushed the garment out at the sides, but she was well covered as always, with not a hint of cleavage peeping through. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, she wore makeup and earrings. She looked nice.

“Your wife has dressed well today, no? She is taking this matter very seriously, and you can see this in the way she prepared.”

I nodded.

“Now look at you,” Desmond said, aiming those long black fingers of his toward my chest. “Do you see the difference?”

I looked down at my clothing choice. My band t-shirt had a coffee stain along the midsection, and my shorts

 were wrinkled. Other than that, there wasn’t much to look at. I could feel red heat starting to sting my cheeks.

“Oh gosh I think I see what you mean,” I said, embarrassed.

“That is good, Syndey,” Desmond said in a warm tone. “Go with that. Tell me more.”

I swallowed a lump of nerves in my throat. “Well, Violet is showing that our marriage is important to her. She’s making an effort... I guess I didn’t. Not with my clothing choice, anyway.”

“Exactly,” Desmond assured me. “Very good, Syndey! You see, our effort and attentions come through in everything we do! We cannot be lazy with the ones we love. Do you see, Syndey? You must hold your wife in every way, not just the easy ones!”

 His teeth showed white and jolly when he spoke, and I could feel Violet’s approval beaming off her.

“I’m sorry, Violet,” I said. “I should take this more seriously.”

“It’s okay, Syd,” she said, stroking my cheek.

I let out a deep exhale. It wasn’t so bad after all, was it? Desmond was leading more like the doting father, and less like the screaming drill sergeant that some part of me had expected.

“Now I would like to ask Violet a few questions,” Desmond went on.

“Of course,” Violet said, her green eyes eager and ready.

Desmond faced Violet with an intensity that suggested years of familiarity. His shoulders aligned with hers, his gaze firmly fixed, as if he could coax effortless

 conversation from her through sheer warmth of character. “Tell me about a usual Sunday for you and Syndey.”

“Well, there’s not much to tell really,” Violet said, the corners of her mouth tugging down like she were trying to suppress a nervous smile. “We get up, and we have breakfast, and that’s nice. But then we sort of go our separate ways until the evening.”

Desmond’s bushy brow furrowed. “What do you mean? For the whole day?” That accent again, so rhythmic and songlike.

“For the games,” she said. “For the football games. All day till late.”

“And how does this make you feel, Violet? When Sydney chooses these games over you?”

Violet paused a moment. I watched her, a tension headache creeping in from the back of my cranium. I

 wasn’t prepared for this; I didn’t think we’d be getting to this stuff so soon. I’d spent so much time ignoring the things that were driving a wedge between Violet and I that the reality of the issues themselves had somehow snuck up on me in this moment. I waited for her reply with bated breath.

“Honestly, it’s so typical that it doesn’t make me feel anything anymore,” she said. “I’ve just come to expect it.”

Our eyes met, and I think she saw the sympathy in mine.

“Do you hear her, Sydney?” Desmond said, the compassion in his voice prevalent over anything else.

"Of course, Vye," I murmured apologetically. As I instinctively began to lift my hand to comfort her with a touch on the shoulder, a surprising gesture interrupted me. Desmond's dark hand, reminiscent of the deep hue of

 midnight oil, swiftly met her knee. He resumed speaking immediately, his voice so entrancing that neither Violet nor I gave it a second thought.

“What about after the games, Violet?” He asked. “What then?”

“Well, then he goes to his office. To his computer.”

Desmond’s attention came at me like a freight train. “What are you doing on the computer?”

“I am uh working on projects,” I said quickly, as naturally as I could. The lie had come easy, almost too easy. Desmond’s head cocked to one side.

“What sort of projects?” Desmond asked.

“Just work stuff...”

Desmond paused. He was sizing my answer up, but

not in an angry way. More like the camp counselor who

 doubts his bunk full of campers didn’t sneak any snacks for summer.

“Speaking of work,” he went on, momentarily changing the subject, “how much time do you spend on the weekends advancing your career, Sydney?”

I looked at Violet. She pressed me for an honest answer.

“Not much to, be honest,” I said. “Work weeks are long for me. I find it best if I take some time away and recharge.”

Desmond clasped his hands together, and somehow, when he spoke again, his voice was even kinder than it had been thus far. “Sydney, we send signals to our lovers whether we realize it or not. When you let off the gas, when you let opportunity slip by, you aren’t just missing out on it. You both are! And do you not wish for your

 beautiful wife to live comfortably? To live the way she truly deserves? To care for her the way she is required?”

My tongue rolled in my mouth, but I said nothing.

“You are a smart man, Sydney,” Desmond smiled, and I was the only one in his eyes then. “I can tell as much, what with your beautiful home and your beautiful wife. Surely you see how it is the little things that matter?”

I nodded, unsure how to express what I was feeling. I didn’t feel attacked, no, quite the opposite – I felt like I was supported by Desmond, and that to please him, to understand him, this would be a very good thing for me.

“So, I will ask you again then, Sydney: what sort of work projects are you doing on your computer?”

Desmond had this way of throwing you off balance. Reeling you in nice and close, getting his arm around you,

 and then refusing to let go. And the way in which he did it this time left me flailing.

“Sydney?” Desmond pressed when I didn’t answer right away. “I told you not five minutes ago what the most important part of this is. Please, Sydney, man to man, I need you to be honest with me.”

I scratched my chin, trying to think how I’d even go about saying it.

“Okay maybe it’s not always work projects,” I said. “Sometimes I... well...”

“You watch porn,” Violet said, under her breath. She looked Desmond full in the face. “He watches porn. I’ve seen the charges, but never his search history.”

“Violet!” I said through clenched teeth. “Come on!”

Desmond took a long inhale, and in so doing recaptured Violet and I’s attention.

 “Violet,” Desmond started, the name so foreign on his lips. “Please allow Sydney to answer. He gave you the same respect, did he not?”

Violet nodded apologetically. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It is okay,” Desmond smiled, his hand still on her knee, now rubbing it gently. I barely saw it though – I was still in shock from Violet’s reveal. “Now Sydney, go on, please. And remember, you must be completely honest.”

I took a deep breath, knowing there was no way around it now that Violet had shown my cards.

“Yes I watch porn,” I said. “I’m not proud of it. I didn’t think it was such a big deal before, but now I’m starting to reconsider, I guess...”

“You guess?” Desmond replied. “Ask yourself why you are not spending time with this beautiful woman, Sydney,

 and I think you will know the answer. In your heart, you will know. Why prefer the lonely comforts of your distractions to the warm touch of your wife?”

I flushed.

“Now you will take us to your office,” Desmond said bluntly. “Show us on your computer, what you’ve been watching while your wife lays lonely in bed.”

I froze. “Excuse me?”

“My accent can be thick, Sydney, so allow me to repeat myself more clearly: please take us to your computer so we may see what’ve you been watching.”

My head shook no on its own accord, back and forth like I was being electrocuted. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” I looked at Violet, she was turning scarlet.

“I’m afraid that our session cannot continue until we’ve had a look, Sydney,” Desmond exhaled. “I know this

 can be uncomfortable, but no one is here to attack you. I am here to help you. The both of you! Not judge you. Now, Sydney, please, don’t make me ask again.”

His smile was bright and white but his eyes were shadows. My stomach fell forty feet as I stood from the couch and led Violet and Desmond upstairs and into my office.

I knew, and confirmed later, that Violet was uncomfortable during this part of our first meeting with Desmond. Things had been so smooth and easy to that point that it was easy to forget that working through marriage issues was going to be difficult at times. I just hadn’t expected it to be this difficult this early.

When I sat down at my desk, the computer chair squeaked and squished to accommodate me. The mouse

 clicked louder than I remembered, as did the clack of my keyboard as I typed in my password.

“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” Desmond read back, his eyes somehow quick enough to catch my fingers firing the computer’s password prompt. “Capitalized like the title.”

Violet scoffed quietly. “When did you change your password, Sydney?”

“Just recently,” I lied, “sorry I forgot to tell you.”

Desmond put a hand on my back, and the other on Violet’s. “Let us forgive each other for this, for now. Grace is an important part of a healthy relationship. Now we all know Sydney’s password and so that is one less secret in this house. Why such a password, if I may ask?”

“It’s my favorite book,” I mumbled.

 Desmond leaned over me, hovering close enough so I could smell his sweet and fragrant scent. He took the mouse from me, opened my web browser, and went straight to the history.

“All deleted,” Desmond smirked. “Very diligent aren’t we, Sydney?”

“It’s just set that way,” I said. “It auto deletes... I don’t know how to turn it on or off.”

For a moment, I could sense Violet’s relief. I think she wanted to know what kind of porn I’d been watching about as much as I wanted her to know. That is to say, not at all.

“It is no problem,” Desmond said, moving to the keyboard and pulling up dialogue boxes I never even knew existed. After some simple entries, and what appeared to be a level of advanced coding, I watched in horror as

 gigabytes worth of deleted internet history flooded my screen.

“Part of my training as a life coach was to hone my skills as a private investigator,” Desmond remarked. “You would be surprised by what I have found. But what I see here, Sydney listen to me – it is nothing to be ashamed of. It is quite common actually.”

Violet went so quiet I don’t think she was breathing. Her eyes scanned the links and titles of the videos I’d watched, many of them dating back as far as a year. Hundreds, maybe thousands.

BBC for white woman

Bbc stretches out white girl! BBC COMPILATION 2 PAWG takes BBC in her ASS BBC TRAINING

 My wife takes two black cocks at once

Legs shake from bbc deep penetration!

And on, and on, and on it went into an oblivion that

made it impossible for me to look my own wife in the eyes. But as the shame flooded my face and posture, Desmond’s warm hand was there to rub my back.

“I see this all the time,” Desmond said. “Violet, if I may be so bold, could I ask you to let me and Sydney have a moment alone together? And then after, you and I can speak in private, if you wish to.”

Violet came out of the distraction on my computer screen and got a hold of herself. She nodded at Desmond and left the room without so much as a glance in my direction. Desmond shut the computer off, turned me in my swivel chair, and then he knelt to speak to me face to face.

 “It will be okay, Sydney,” he said. “Do not look so lost. I promise you, after I speak with her, Violet will forgive you and there will be no feelings of guilt between you. But it is important that you listen to me now so that we may solve this problem of yours. Are you listening, Sydney?”

“Yes,” I said, mustering some confidence. Desmond was my lifeboat in a sea of shame at that point, and his offer to talk to Violet for me, and to make things alright with her, was the greatest gift anyone could offer me. So, I took it.

“You must understand first of all that your addiction to pornography, specifically interracial pornography, is a telltale sign of a much larger issue. Namely, you are insecure.”

“I am?” I asked, desperate to understand.

 “May I ask you a personal question, Sydney? This stays between you and I.”

“Go for it.”

“How big is your cock?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your penis, Sydney. How big is it.”

“We’ll I don’t know. Average, I guess?”

“How many inches?”

I laughed. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Okay, last time I checked it was...like...four inches...” Desmond’s mouth twitched. “Soft, yes? Four inches

soft.”

“Well no...”

“Oh.”

A silence passed in the room, and I felt suffocated.

 “So these men in your videos,” Desmond motioned at the computer screen, “they are much bigger than you, yes?”

“Yes. I guess so.”

“And so you are comparing yourself to these black men, and because you cannot measure up to them, you are telling yourself that you cannot measure up in life. And so, this kills your drive in everything: sex, profession, relationship. And because you are held back from reaching your full potential, you descend further into your selfish habits, which directly affect Violet. Do you see?”

I thought on it, and then replied: “Yes.”

“Good. But there is a level deeper, and this will require some effort to reach. Are you ready to dig with me, Sydney?”

 The seriousness in his voice armed me, and I told him I was more ready than I’d ever been to make a change.

“Your fear of that which you will never become may serve you in the long run. And it may serve you in your duties to your wife.”

I squinted. I didn’t understand.

“What I mean to say is,” he continued, “is that these distractions of yours, these perversions... they are keeping you not only from your full potential as a man, but they are keeping you from fulfilling your role. And all men have different roles, as I’m sure you would agree, you have seen it a thousand times on the internet in black and white.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” I said, still confused but some part of my mind starting to piece it together, though it would take the full week with Desmond before I would truly understand.

 “Think on it a while, Sydney,” Desmond said, standing up and heading for the door. “I am going to have a chit chat with Violet now. And when I am done, you two can work together on what we have uncovered here today.”

Desmond left the room, closing the door behind him. I wondered what he and Violet might discuss, and I prayed that he would soften the blow for me, and perhaps at least convince her not to go ape shit on me for all the porn on my computer.

But Desmond Deep did one better than that.

 Night 1

We lay in bed in the dark, side by side, and I could hear the sound of Violet’s irregular breathing. She wasn’t sleeping and neither was I. After a million seconds of silence, I finally decided to break it.

“What did you and Desmond talk about?”

She hesitated before answering. “Just the direction of the program. Where you and I are headed this week and what our goals are.”

“He’s really nice,” I said. “It’s like he can say things to me that if anybody else said I’d get defensive. But he has this, I don’t know, this...”

“Soothing way?” Violet finished for me. “I know. It’s impressive. I feel really lucky that we found him.”

“Me too.”

 I turned on my side in the dark and reached my arm out. Violet took it and held it close across her breasts. There was a stiffness about her in that moment that I didn’t pick up on fully, but it was there none the less.

“I’m sorry about the porn,” I said.

“It’s okay. Desmond explained it to me in a way that I could understand. I’m not mad at you.”

I sighed relief.

“I’m done with it,” I said. “The porn, I mean.”

“Well, we will see won’t we?”

Boldly, I pushed ahead with the number one thing on

my mind. “Violet, why don’t we, you know, have sex?” “Now?”

“Right now,” I said. “I’m feeling invigorated. I don’t know why exactly, but damnit if I don’t want to make love to my wife!”

 She turned away from me and my arm fell. “Maybe soon,” Violet replied. “But Desmond thinks it’s probably better if we hold off this week while we mend bridges.”

“He said that?”

“In so many ways,” she replied. “He thinks it’s important that we rebuild everything from the ground up. Saving myself for the better man, as he put it.”

“The better man being my future self?”

“Your future self will be better,” Violet said. “We both will be. So, if it’s ok with you, Syd... let’s wait.”

“Sure thing,” I acquiesced. “That makes sense, I guess.”

A few minutes later she was asleep, and I was staring up at the ceiling wondering what the next day with Desmond was going to bring.

 Day 2

I’d taken the week off work, Violet as well. Even though it was all PTO, we’d still argued over the value of using paid time off to spend so much money on a life coach. You can guess which side of that disagreement I was on. But as luck would have it, I was thrilled to see Desmond that Monday morning when he arrived, having woken with a renewed vigor about my marriage and my life and all its possibilities. I was riding high.

I had no idea that the next few hours would whittle me down to the size of a thimble.

“Can we chat in the backyard?” Desmond asked, blowing past Violet and I on his way towards the back of the house. “It is a beautiful day and I have a feeling we will accomplish much!”

 Desmond wore a white tee shirt that clung to his elongated frame, revealing a depth of tone and muscle that had only been hinted at in the suit he wore the day before. Everything about him, arms and shoulders and neck and back, was distractingly defined. He had black sneakers on, and a long pair of red athletic shorts that drooped loosely past his knees. He looked ready for a workout.

As we stepped into the backyard, Desmond at the lead, I noticed Violet staring. It was brief, and I’m certain she felt my eyes on her, but there was no doubt about the way she was looking at Desmond. And why not? He was built like an athlete. I, in a completely heterosexual way, was also staring.

As for my own attire, I’d decided to take things more seriously, and I’d worn a pair of dress pants, tucked my collared shirt in, combed my hair, and donned a pair of

 dress shoes. I looked like I was going to a job interview. Violet, as beautiful as ever, wore a yellow sundress with red flowers strewn about it.

The three of us sat together on the back patio.

“We have spoken about your time together,” Desmond began. “And we will again. But before we can enrich one another’s lives, we must enrich our own. And the way men and women do this differs. I have always believed that it is important for a man, to feel like a man. And this cannot be done in any old way.”

Desmond sat across from us, though really it was a triangle seating about a round table. Violet and I were closer together, but we weren’t in the same chair.

“I trust that Sydney is thinking about a change in his habits,” Desmond said, talking to Violet. “And that the two

 of you will spend more time together. But, you cannot spend every waking hour together, this is not healthy.”

Violet’s face glowed in the morning sun, gorgeous like a daydream you don’t want to come out of. Desmond had her full attention, and I think the first kindling of jealousy started there on the patio – something about the way she looked at him made me feel like I wasn’t even there. I ignored the feeling.

“So, we replace some of the wasted time with each other, but what do we do with the rest of it?”

“Work?” Violet said. “Further our careers?”

“Yes, but it cannot be all work no play,” Desmond said, his voice low and musical. “There are other things to be done. For you, for Sydney.”

Desmond turned his attention to me, and those mosquito thoughts of jealousy disappeared in an instant.

 “I noticed a few things on the property today, Sydney,” he said, his accent thick. “Do you take care of things around the house? Gutters, the lawn, that sort of thing?”

I looked over at Violet. She smirked at me.

“I usually have someone do those things for me,” I said. “I have a kid down the street who cuts the lawn, and –

“What about the brush?” Desmond interrupted, pointing to the back of the yard, where along the chain-link fence lay a rubbish pile comprising of a torn apart shed, a few failed carpentry projects, and a large number of cinder blocks. Our property bordered a woodland area, government land. I guess I say that because, since there were no neighbors on that end of the

 property to complain, I never bothered to move the stack of trash.

“Oh that,” I said, “I’m getting around to it. Maybe I’ll have the kid who does the lawn grab a few of his friends and they can –

“No.”

I paused. Desmond shook his head.

“These things are your responsibility, Sydney,” he

said. “It would be different if you didn’t have the time, but we all know that you do. And to take care of one’s own, to not only provide financially and emotionally but to provide in all ways, this is what will give you the courage and confidence to be the man you can be. A man at his fullest potential. And a man at his fullest potential is a man ready to be what his wife needs him to be.”

 His words flowed like honey, and even if I didn’t follow everything he said, there was a hypnosis effect that took place when Desmond was talking to you. I’ve heard the term ‘man crush’ before and I have to say it applied to my early feelings toward the man.

“So you want me to clear the brush pile?” I asked.

“We will get to that. First, I want you to take a walk with me around your home. I want to show you what a man might do in your situation.”

I balked. “But Desmond, um,” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I am a man.”

“Of course you are,” he smiled. “That is not what I meant. My English can fail me at times.”

“Not at all,” Violet interjected, crossing her legs, and arching her upper back enough to make her breasts more demanding. “Your English is fine, in fact, I think you speak

 quite eloquently. Maybe what you meant was, you wanted to show Sydney what you might do in his situation.”

Desmond nodded. “Something like that, yes.”

“Can I go upstairs and change before we get started?” I asked. “I’m not really dressed for chores.”

Desmond smiled. “This will not take long. Please, take me to your garage.”

I found it a strange request but didn’t balk. The energy between the three of us felt weird for a moment, so I was glad to relocate and find a task - though, I still didn’t exactly know what that task was. Was Desmond telling me I needed to mow my own lawn and clean my own gutters? It seemed simple enough, but the reasoning didn’t strike me as profound. I trusted that there was a point to all this, or at least, I hoped there was.

 The garage was large, big enough for three cars though we currently only had one. Violet followed, more a spectator than anything else. As Desmond surveyed the space (mostly used for storage), his eyes landed on the rear driver’s side tire. He stuck a long bony finger at it.

“Low on air,” Desmond said. “Worse, the tread is gone.”

I pretended to know what he was talking about though in all honesty I’d never checked the tread on a tire in my life.

“It needs changing,” Desmond sighed. “Do you have the proper tools for this, Sydney?”

“There’s a spare in the trunk, the tire iron and stuff is all in there too.”

Desmond clapped his hands together. “Perfect. Please, if you don’t mind, change the tire.”

 Violet snorted. “Oh sorry,” she apologized quickly, covering her smirk with a hand.

“Something is funny,” Desmond grinned. “Please tell me.”

I shot Violet a look, but she returned it with one of her own that said what am I supposed to do?

“It’s just, Sydny changing a tire, it’s...” Violet gathered herself. “Cute.”

Desmond’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Can’t he change a tire?”

Violet shook her head.

“My goodness, Sydney,” Desmond said in disbelief. “Come! Come here! We must do something about this right away!”

I tried to keep in good spirits about the situation as Desmond and I began to rifle through the trunk for tire

 and crank. He droned on in my ear, something about ‘basic skills’, and how small things can add up to great things, and on and on. But I couldn’t help feeling slightly marginalized, like I was a target Desmond kept coming to again and again. When would he take the time with Violet, or was she just completely innocent in all this?

Ultimately, I told myself that change was not easy, and this was the work part of it. So, I kept my mouth shut and listened.

I stood back as Desmond lifted the heavy tire from the trunk without so much as a grunt. His biceps flexed around the black rubber, and his back stretched taut with muscle when he lowered it to the ground. Sweat broke out in a film across his body by the time he was jacking the frame of the vehicle upwards, the armpits of his shirt

 dampening and droplets pooling in the shallow of his throat. His scent, not unpleasant, filled the garage.

“Now roll the spare to me, Sydney,” he said, lifting the bald tire from the frame and turning to set it aside.

I got a hold of the spare, which he’d laid flat on the garage floor, and strained to lift it. Muscles in my back screamed in protest, and the tread of the new tire pinched the pink skin of my flabby biceps. By the time I righted and rolled the thing over to Desmond, I was covered in sweat, and the polyester shirt I wore was now wildly uncomfortable.

And the entire time, I knew Violet was watching – I could feel her eyes when they weren’t on Desmond.

“Do you need water, Sydney?” Desmond asked, taking the tire from me. “You look worn out.”

“I’m fine,” I panted, wiping my slick forehead.

 Desmond placed the new tire on the car frame and went about screwing the bolts back on with the lug wrench. He knelt there on one knee, sweating through his white shirt. When he had cranked the car back down, he wiped the back of his forehead with his vascular forearm and looked at me.

“Now it is your turn,” he said. “I would like you to rotate the others. It will be good practice, and you will lay your head down to sleep tonight a better man than yesterday.”

The weight of what he was asking me to do – hard manual labor as far as I was concerned – hit me like a ton of bricks.

“While you do that,” Desmond continued, “Violet can show me what her idea of time without you is, and perhaps

 we’ll find a crossover that can bring you two closer together.”

I looked at the car. “You want me to rotate... all of them?”

“A bit of hard work is good for the soul, Sydney!” Desmond clapped me on the back and laughed. “And don’t go feeling singled out, now! I’ll make sure Violet gets her own fair share of the load.”

Disappointment bubbled in my gut as Violet led Desmond from the garage. This was not what I’d had in mind when the idea of couples therapy was first brought up. I pictured an air-conditioned room, notepads, and attentive ears. Now, I was stripping off my dress shirt and kicking away my dress shoes so I could start some of the hardest manual labor I’d done in my entire life.

But change is hard. So, I got to work.

 It took me almost four hours. I was covered in dirt and grime and sweat, but I did it. My arms and my back ached with fire in the veins, but I did it.

Not once in that time did I see hide nor hair of Desmond and Violet. This was probably a good thing, I figured, as I was most certainly being tested to see if I could withstand what Desmond was challenging me with, not to mention the fact that Violet was getting a chance to do some of her own personal improvement. It was comforting to know that despite my labors, Violet was putting her share of work in as well, and that by each of us becoming better versions of ourselves, we would thus have a better version of our marriage.

I put my polyester shirt back on and came stumbling back into the house, exhausted and stinking, and found the two of them drinking cold beers around the kitchen island.

 “There he is,” Desmond sang out. “The man of the hour. How did it go?”

“It was a lot of work,” I said, taking in the site of them so clean and comfy. “What were you guys up to?”

Violet bubbled up. “We talked, mostly. And I listened, and he listened, and it was... well it was amazing, Sydney. I think I’m learning so much about you, about me, about us, and what kind of routines and practices are going to make us a better husband and wife to each other. Desmond is truly amazing, honey!”

I smiled, though it was forced. I couldn’t deny the anger that was behind it. Here I’d been slaving away while the two of them enjoyed refreshments in the air conditioning... but worse, even below the anger, was something else. That ugly jealously again, I suppose.

 Hearing her talk about him like that just didn’t sit well with me...

“Now that we are reunited, let us have a look at that trash heap in the back, shall we?” Desmond finished his beer in a big swallow.

My face fell. “I was hoping I could grab a shower, or maybe we could do some group counseling? Not sure how much more work I want to do...”

“Oh but Sydney!” Desmond sang. “Everything is group counseling! And the rubbish in the yard will be as well. You’ll see! Now come, no showers or change of clothes needed. We are men, right? The small discomforts of the day do not disturb us!”

Desmond rushed forward toward the back door. I wanted to talk with Violet alone for a moment, but she was already following him, beer in hand. She placed a light

 peck of a kiss on my cheek on her way, and it was enough to calm my frayed nerves.

With little life left in my body, I walked with them to the rubbish pile at the back of the property.

“Today we have been learning about what makes a good husband, what makes a good wife, and what it will take to have a healthy, functioning marriage.” Desmond’s dark eyes were alight with the glow of the afternoon sun. “Part of marriage is persistence. Part of change is challenge. This pile of trash symbolizes what your marriage will become if you don’t clear away the debris and get to the truth of the matter!”

Desmond grabbed the hem of his white shirt and pulled it over his head. His immaculate form, inky and lined with muscle, glistened with the oncoming sheen of sweat over every inch of him. I couldn’t be sure, but I

 thought maybe Violet stopped breathing just for the skip of a heartbeat.

Then, he handed my wife his shirt.

“Hold this for me, Violet,” he said, and she accepted it quickly. “I am going to help you with this Sydney, I would not ask you to do it alone. But in this happy accident we have a opportunity to learn. You will do labor that requires a man’s strength, and your wife will do her part in supporting you. In this, we find a bond. Now, give Violet your shirt as well.”

It rolled off his tongue so naturally I didn’t bother questioning the strangeness of the request. I removed the polyester nightmare, happy to be rid of it, and handed it to Violet. Now, Desmond and I stood before the trash heap, shirtless, albeit as aesthetically different as one could get.

 A strange expression crossed Violet’s face as she looked back and forth between the two of us. I tried to imagine what we must look like; me, a middle aged flabby white guy, and the black Adonis next to me. It wasn’t much of a comparison, and I hoped that the feeling of inadequacy that passed in my stomach wasn’t the same passing over Violet’s face.

“Violet, may I ask something of you now?” Desmond said, voice ever jovial.

“Of course,” she said eagerly.

“Remember what we spoke of earlier? About giving your husband the tools he needs to succeed?”

Violet nodded enthusiastically.

“Good girl,” Desmond continued. “When a man is doing a man’s work, it isn’t just enough to feel like a man.

 He must be treated and seen as one. Does that make sense?”

“Of course, Desmond.”

“Now what I think would make Sydney feel like a man, is to see his beautiful wife in something desirable. Perhaps before you go to the kitchen to prepare some ice waters, you could stop by your closet along the way and change into something that tells Sydney how much you appreciate his hard work.”

I could hear the summer crickets. I could hear the occasional car out on the street. I could hear the neighbor’s television through an open window fifty feet away. Desmond said the words like he says everything else, that is, nonchalantly. Nevertheless, I was shocked.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” I said, but at the very same time Violet giggled like a schoolgirl. The sounds

 crossed over one another, creating another silence that Violet eventually broke.

“That’s no problem,” she said, flashing me a playful look. “Don’t get uptight, Syd. If you’re finally going to clear out this junk, well, the least I can do is give you some eye candy, right?”

Surprised at her willingness, I didn’t protest. She walked off, and I looked at Desmond like he was the second coming of Jesus Christ.

“You’re miracle worker,” I proclaimed, looking up at his broad chest and smiling face. “I can’t get that woman to wear anything. What did you say to her?”

“I’m sure she will tell you all about it,” Desmond grinned. “But now my friend, it is time to get to work and earn your wife’s admirations.”

 The sun blazed hot on our backs as we began to separate all the different materials that had accumulated in the junk pile. I struggled with the wooden boards, dragging them along the grass with all my might, and depositing them into a pile of their own that would later be hauled to the dump. Meanwhile, Desmond shouldered stacks of cinder blocks with a strength I found to be superhuman. Sweat ran in rivers through the creases of his flexed muscles. For every one board I moved, his own progress was that much quicker.

“Keep up, Sydney,” he said. “Push yourself. Think of your wife!”

A few minutes later, she appeared. Desmond and I turned at the same time to see her coming across the yard, a big glass of ice water in each hand, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.

 “Holy shit,” I said, unable to keep the obscenity out of my mouth.

“You are a very lucky man,” Desmond said softly.

Violet was in a bikini. One I hadn’t seen in years. It was red and it was still too small for her - of course, it was, it wasn’t like her breasts had shrunk now was it? She pushed the bikini top to its breaking point, and the bottoms below allowed the entirety of her milky white legs to gleam in the heat. There was a slight shyness to her walk, I could tell she wasn’t used to the gazes of two separate men on her in such attire, but she handled it well. A playful smirk was at the corners of her mouth.

“Two waters for the manly men,” she cooed. Up close her body was a lot to take in, and I realized I hadn’t seen this much of her skin outside the bedroom, in the light of day, in years. “Drink up.”

 “Obliged, Violet,” Desmond said.

“You look incredible, babe,” I said, voice hushed. Violet winked at me.

I reached out for my water and knocked it a little, causing some of the water to splash out onto Violet’s ample breasts. The droplets glittered and ran down her white flesh.

“Sorry,” I said.

“No worries, Syd.”

It was in that moment I realized, fully realized, that

she wasn’t just standing there in a revealing bikini in front of me. Desmond was there, and he was most certainly looking. Did I see him looking? Of course not, because I was looking. But I don’t care how professional you are, no heterosexual man was going to have his eyes any place else. And the realization of this, even as I watched the

 water trickle down and disappear inside the red bikini top, caused a flare of protectiveness inside me and I suddenly wanted very badly for her to cover up. But it was far too late for that, and I wouldn’t dare let on that I was uncomfortable with something I’d wanted for so long.

“Back to work,” Desmond said.

Violet sat on the patio in her bikini, watching us. She had sunglasses on so it was hard to say exactly where her line of sight was focused, but I could guess. There was something impressive about the way Desmond worked, the manliness of it, the power and strength he had. Every so often I caught him glancing her way, and I knew what he was staring at. Violet was going to have tan lines under that bikini later, reddened swaths of her skin to amplify the true fairness of her flesh. I wondered if Desmond was thinking the same thing.

 Wonder all you want, Desmond. I’m the one who gets to see it.

I pushed the nasty, competitive voice out of my head. There was no time for that, not with all the work that needed to be done.

As we neared the bottom of the pile, I noticed that the chain link fence separating our property from the woodland beyond was angled upward against a mound of dirt. The bottom of the fence was bent and pushed back, as if some giant balloon had inflated under the earth. It wasn’t until I heaved a large piece of plywood aside that I saw the hole. It was perhaps a foot in diameter, and explained the hump in the dirt that the fence had stretched to accommodate.

When the beast came barking and snapping out, I dropped the plywood and screamed like a girl.

 “WHAT THE FUCK!”

Scrambling backwards on my butt, it came yawping out.

A coyote, eyes bloodshot and mouth dripping slobber, it lunged at me driven by pure insanity.

“HELP!” I screamed, still scrambling. “HELP MEEEEE!”

The coyote circled me, growling and baring teeth.

“SYDNEY!” I heard Violet’s voice from behind. “SYDNEY DO SOMETHING!”

My legs had turned to Jello, either from labor or fear, and I was useless. I could only turn on my ass, trying not to let it get my back.

“SYDNEY!”

The beast lunged. THUNK!

 The beast yelped, its head ducking from the blow – then it turned and scurried below the fence and out into the woodland beyond, disappearing forever.

I looked up. Desmond stood there, a shimmering ebony god, a two by four in his powerful hands.

“Are you okay, Sydney?” Desmond asked, his eyes dark and unreadable.

Before I could answer, Violet came running across the yard, heavy tits bouncing, and threw her arms around Desmond’s greasy midsection. Things went into slow motion for me: my scantily clad wife pressed against the sweaty slick black man, her pillowy breasts mushing against his ribs, her arms squeezing his taut abs, the look of elation on her face... and the faintest, shit-eating grin on Desmond’s.

 “Oh my God thank you, Desmond!” She squealed. “Thank you oh my God!”

Violet was in partial hysterics, so I don’t know if she knew what she was doing. It wasn’t until Desmond placed a reassuring arm over her bare shoulders that she calmed down, and realized that I, her husband, was still on the ground.

She knelt beside me.

“Are you okay, Syd?” Violet asked, her voice tinged with annoyance. At what I could not guess.

“I’m fine,” I replied. Desmond offered me his hand and I took it. “What are the chances?”

Desmond’s gaze darkened further. “There is no such thing as a chance, my friend. That rabid dog is a sign of what waits below if you do not correct your ways! Your marriage depends on it, Sydney. I can see that tomorrow

 we will need to progress things faster if we are to save the love between you two.”

My heart was beating out of my chest and a fresh coat of sweat covered my body. I was thankful I hadn’t pissed myself in front of Desmond - or my wife for that matter. What exactly Desmond was saying didn’t matter so much to me, so I simply nodded my head in agreement.

“Now get a shovel and fill that den,” Desmond said. “And Violet if you would be so kind as to show me to the shower? It has been a tiresome day, and it is a long drive home. I would like to do it in fresh clothes.”

Violet was eager to accommodate. “Of course, Desmond! If you want I can even wash your clothes for you. Come on, you can use the master shower. It’s much nicer, I’ll show you...”

 Violet continued to blather at him, leaving me there in the backyard. As I started to shovel dirt into the hole, a wave of failure washed over me. How had I let my own home come to such disrepair? What if the coyote had attacked Violet and not me?

What if Desmond hadn’t been here to save me?

I resolved to really listen to him from then on, and to stop questioning the nature of his reasoning. And if I didn’t entirely understand what he said, that was fine. I just had to do what he told me.

For my marriage.

 Night 2

I went to bed early. My body had given up.

Violet stayed up for a while, she said she wanted to do some reading that Desmond had recommended.

In my dream, I was in the backyard again except it was nighttime. The coyote was back, stalking me, lunging and biting. But this time, I knew no one was coming to save me. I turned to the porch to call for help and saw Desmond and Violet drinking beer. They were both naked. Violet’s pale body glowed in the moonlight, and the red of her sunburn amplified the paleness of her nudity. I couldn’t quite make Desmond out; he was black as the night. But the moon showed everything except what was below the waist, and what was below the waist was growling louder than the coyote sinking its teeth into my neck.

 I woke with a shout and Violet was there.

“You were talking in your sleep,” she said.

“Was I? What did I say?’

Violet looked at me uncertainly. “I think it’s a very

good thing we found Desmond.”

“I’m sorry, Vye,” I heaved, still shaking from the

nightmare. “I know I should pay more attention to things. The tires, the backyard, I... I’m gonna do better, okay?”

“I hope so,” she said. “Everything you need to learn Desmond can teach you. You just have to let him. You know that, right? He isn’t ten grand because he’s some quack, Syd. His methods are different, but they work. And I’m counting on you to follow him.”

I took her hand in mine, and I could feel how clammy I was.

 “Everything,” I sighed. “I’ll listen to everything, I’ll give everything, I’ll do everything. I can see what I’ve been neglecting. I don’t want to lose you, Vye. I love you.”

She smiled and touched my forehead.

“You were having some sort of nightmare,” Violet giggled. “Care to tell me what about?”

“Don’t remember,” I lied.

Violet stood up and undid her robe, letting it fall to the floor. Her flesh was just as it had been in my dream.

“No fucking, not yet,” she whispered. “Not until we’re done.”

“Absolutely,” I breathed, staring at her perfection.

“But if your backs not too tired, you can get on your knees and lick me.”

Like a beaten dog I got on the floor, happy for its treat.

 Day 3

“Before we begin today, I would like to show you what some of my clients refer to as my secret sauce,” Desmond said, holding two pill capsules in his palm. “These are all natural serotonin intensifiers. Micro doses. These will help you to be honest in your evaluations of one another, especially as we start to write down our feelings about one another.”

Violet and I sat across from each other, note pad and pens in hand. Desmond had informed us that today’s practice would start innocuously enough, but if we had the courage to push further, then our honesty would be rewarded tenfold. That was before he’d pulled out the pill capsules; little red and white things with who knows what inside.

“What’s in it?” Violet asked him.

 “Lions mane, and a rare fungus found in the town I come from called Sunfire.”

I picked a capsule out from his open palm and inspected it. “Are these psychedelics?”

“Not really,” Desmond shrugged. “Think of them as amplifiers. Or rather, a gentle push in the direction of honesty.”

Remembering my promise to Violet the night prior, I popped the capsule in my mouth and swallowed. Violet giggled and followed suit.

“Very good,” Desmond grinned. “Now let us begin. Your first task in the journals I have provided you is to write down how you perceive one another. For example: Sydney will write down how Violet presents herself to him and to the rest of the world. The clothes she wears, the way she does her makeup, the way Sydney sees his wife.”

 As Desmond spoke, I felt a strange and not unpleasant sort of nausea in my belly.

“And then when you are done with this first task,” Desmond continued, “I would like you to start another page in which you describe how you wish to see your significant other. For example: Violet will discuss how she may prefer Sydney to dress or present himself to her and others. These are just basic guidelines, but what I would really like for the two of you to do is be creative, let your truth flow. Neither of you will be allowed to read each other’s entry. I will be the arbitrator.”

I glanced at Violet. Her face had a faint shimmer to it, a glowing aura not unlike when you stare at the sun for too long. I wondered what exactly was in these pills of Desmond’s, but then as if in a dream, I found myself

 starting to scribble words down into my journal. Violet did the same.

We wrote for a long time, the two of us, lost in the pages, all while Desmond presided over all. I couldn’t help but notice that every so often Violet would look up from the journal and take a long, hard stare at Desmond, as if she were painting him instead of writing down her feelings about me.

When we finished, we handed the journals over to Desmond. Violet and I sat in silence while he read them to himself, his expression giving away nothing. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Desmond set the journals down and focused his gaze on us.

“Thank you both for your honesty,” he said. “Now if you will wait here, I need to grab some things from my car.”

 Shortly after Desmond left, I found myself unable to tear my eyes from Violet. The aura I saw previously had only intensified, except now it was perversely sexual. My mind fluttered back to last night, to the taste of her, to the sight of her body over me writhing and shaking. I wanted to jump her right there, throw myself at her.

And conversely, Violet seemed to stare only at the front door of our house. As if waiting for God himself to arrive and whisk her off to heaven. When Desmond came through that door, boxes stacked in his arms, Violet breathed in long and sharp – as if she hadn’t been breathing at all while.

Desmond set the boxes down and began to dig through them, revealing their contents to be clothing – men and women’s.

 “I always order a healthy selection based on client sizes,” Desmond said under his breath as he removed a bra and then a pair of high-top shoes. “Believe it or not, based on your answers today, I think I’ve got just the right choice for you both!”

Eventually, Desmond amassed two separate piles of clothing, one for women and the other for men. Then he went about pairing different outfits together, creating a wardrobe before our very eyes that in many ways mirrored our view of one another.

For Violet, my description of how I saw her came easily enough. She was a beautiful woman whose clothing choices often felt too tame for me. Her dresses were modest, that is, there was never much cleavage to speak of. Her makeup was what you’d expect but nothing spunky or spicy per say. In my journal entry I had noted that Violet’s

 lack of interest in dressing more revealing might be a sign of her repressed sexuality, and therefore a repressed sexual appetite. I hadn’t meant to write all that, but the dose Desmond gave us allowed me to write more freely, and with less of a thought about consequences.

So, the female clothing there on the floor resembled my writing almost to a T. A black dress, long enough to go past a woman’s knees, with a nice high bust line that wouldn’t allow even a glimpse of what was underneath.

Beside that outfit was menswear. It was, in a word - dull. Grey sweatpants, a local FM radio station t-shirt, and a pair of white sneakers. I can’t say I was insulted by Violet’s image of me, as fashion had always been an empty space in my interests.

“I don’t follow,” I said.

Violet shot me a look and quieted down.

 “To understand one another, we will walk a mile in each other’s shoes,” Desmond said.

I raised my eyebrows.

“To my left is what Violet will be wearing the rest of the day,” Desmond nodded at the sloppy ‘Sydney” outfit. “And to my right is what Sydney shall wear.” He motioned to the dress.

I snorted. “You can’t be serious?”

“I am,” Desmond said. “And because we are short on time, I think it best if we change now.”

Looking at Violet, I was shocked by her lack of protest. “But what does it mean?” I said. “How does this help anything?”

“Sydney!” Violet tisked. “Remember your promise!” I balked. Desmond smiled.

 “It is normal to feel apprehensive, Sydney,” Desmond soothed. “But yesterday you were attacked by a rabid dog. Surely you are not afraid of wearing a dress?”

They stared at me, Desmond’s eyes full of warmth and Violet’s full of annoyance.

Violet grabbed the sloppy outfit off the ground. “I’ll just be in the next room changing.”

She stomped out and Desmond picked the black dress up. “Don’t push your luck, Sydney,” he winked. “Let’s just get to it, yes?”

Once again, something about Desmond’s ease convinced me. Not really believing I’d actually wear it, I took the dress from Desmond and turned to go to the bathroom.

“Just put it on here, quickly,” Desmond said with a wave of the hand. “We must move faster today. I will check

 on Violet to make sure she is comfortable with the situation.”

I watched him walk out of the living room and towards the guest bedroom on the other side of the foyer. I cleared my throat rather loudly.

“She’s changing, Desmond,” I pointed out. “She’s a modest girl, if you know what I mean.”

Desmond never slowed, however. “I will knock before entering.”

Even as he said it, I watched him grasp the guest bedroom doorknob and let himself in, closing the door behind him. My stomach flared with an angry warmth – what if she’d been naked? Or worse, what if she was naked, and Desmond had just walked in on her? There hadn’t been any yelp of surprise, so I assumed this was

 probably not the case, but still... there were liberties being taken that I was having a hard time ignoring.

Alone, I disrobed as fast as I could and went about figuring the dress out.

It felt strange and boxy on my frame. My chest had far too much room to breathe, as did my ass. The moment the thing was on my body I felt stupid, desperate to remove it before Desmond and Violet came out... speaking of which, they’d been in the room for a while now, hadn’t they?

Along with the dress were a pair of open-toed shoes, feminine and pink, and yet strangely my size. Swallowing my pride, I wiggled my toes into them and then stood unsteadily as I clipped on a pair of fake earrings Desmond had left for me. There was also a small satchel with what appeared to be makeup – lipstick and eye liner and things

 like that – but I decided that I was firmly against such a thing, and not at all comfortable with it.

Just as I was thinking about approaching the guest room and knocking on the door (in your own house you idiot), Desmond and Violet emerged.

Desmond was in front of her, so she didn’t see me right away, neither did I see her. It was Desmond’s goofy grin, an air of amusement to it I had not yet seen, that I noticed first. The entirety of my body flushed red with the onset of embarrassment.

When Desmond moved, I saw Violet dressed in clothing not so different from her lazy Sundays around the house. The clothing was baggy and hid most of her curves, the shoes gave her a tom boyish appearance. Other than that, the change was certainly not as distracting as my own.

 Violet shrieked with laughter when she saw me. “Christ,” I grumbled. “This is so stupid.”

“Now Sydney,” Desmond said, placing a hand on my

shoulder and stifling his own chuckle. “We are not doing this so that you focus on you. Let Violet do that. Your job is to see yourself as she sees you. So, look at Violet!”

I did as he said but all I saw was her hysterical gaze. A knife of humiliation cut deep – this felt so incredibly wrong. I never wanted her to see me like this, weak and confused and worse, womanly. I was a joke to her, not a man. I was supposed to see her stupid outfit, but her laughter blotted everything out.

I looked up at Desmond; the man’s man. And damnit if I didn’t shrink down to the size of a snail.

“You forgot your makeup, Sydney,” he said. “Please, sit down and allow Violet to help you.”

 Night 3

With Desmond gone things didn’t feel any better. If anything, I was more confused than I had been.

We walked, Violet and I, down the sidewalk that ran through our neighborhood. Every friend and acquaintance we knew only had to look out their front window to see a strange site. I prayed they wouldn’t.

“Your lipstick is smudged,” Violet giggled, unable to look at me without losing herself.

“Very funny,” I choked.

“Lighten up, Syd. If you’re going to be embarrassed the whole time, then we won’t learn anything.”

“How can I not be embarrassed when you laugh every time you look at me?”

She glanced at me, and on que, burst into laughter.

 “What is the point of this?” I said finally, cutting through her mirth.

“The point is that if you feel ridiculous, maybe your expectations are ridiculous? Or maybe Desmond is trying to show you that dealing with you isn’t as easy as you think it is. Sure, Syd, you feel all the attention right now. How do you think I feel when you gawk at me all day but then don’t satisfy me at night?”

Her words stung, but it’s only because there was some hidden truth to them. Still, I didn’t think it took putting on women’s clothing to figure as much.

“Harsh,” I said. “I don’t satisfy you at all?”

“Not yet,” Violet said, squeezing my hand. “But you’re going to learn to... in your own way.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “We won’t know until you fulfill your potential, Syd. And to fulfill your potential, you’ve got to fulfill your role in this relationship.”

“You sound like him.”

I looked down at my stupid shoes. Desmond had watched Violet paint my toenails pink before he left, chuckling the whole time. Now, those stupid pink toenails looked back at me, pointing out of my overly feminized shoes.

“Are you going to even want to fuck me after this?” I asked.

“Enough of the pity party,” Violet said, her voice turning sharp. “You’re already dressed like a woman you might as well go with it!”

The eyeliner felt heavy on me, the blush caked on. What must I look like to her?

 “You didn’t answer my question,” I said.

“Our sex is changing just like our relationship is,” Violet said. “Everything will be better for the both of us by the time Desmond is done with us! And if that means new rules in the bedroom, new roles, new duties... so be it.”

I stopped walking, which felt odd because all I wanted to do was get back home as soon as possible.

“What the hell are you talking about, Vye?” I pressed her. “I ask you if you’re going to want to fuck me and you tell me we have new roles? What is all this role talk and what does it have to do with us?”

She tried to take me seriously, but that same urge to cackle filled her eyes and I had to look away.

“We’re going to be fine, Syd,” she promised. “Our sex is going to be fine. I only mean that the way we give each other pleasure might change. But for the better.”

 “You mean it’ll be more intense?” I said.

“Exactly,” Violet replied.

By the time we got home my phone was flooded with

texts from the neighbors and our friends. They’d seen us of course, word had gotten round, and in addition to the jokes and snide remarks, there were plenty of pictures that showed irrefutable evidence that I’d worn a dress with makeup about the neighborhood.

I stared at one photo in particular, my face heavily made up, my strange, hunched walking in the stupid shoes and black dress. And beside me, Violet, a steady toothy smile on her mouth that screamed mockery.

That night when we went to bed, Violet insisted on spooning me. It was the first time I could remember us having cuddled like that. It felt strangely comforting... the

 sort of comfort that comes with being chloroformed, perhaps.

 Day 4

When Desmond addressed us in our bedroom the next day, I could feel the definitive shift within our mutual dynamics. We’d accepted the man into our home, beyond reproach, and when he insisted on starting that day’s counseling where Violet and I slept and made love, neither of us tried to rebuke him.

It was the duffle bag he’d brought with him, lying open on the bed top, that actually bothered me.

“It is safe to say that we are nearing a turning point in our therapy,” Desmond said. “Yesterday you wrote how you perceive each other. You also wrote about how you want to see each other. And I’m very pleased to say that neither one of you held back in your writing.”

I gulped loudly, staring at the assortment of garments inside the duffle bag. What he was implying was plain to

 see, and already I was formulating my defenses against it. No fucking way, I thought. Whatever it is I wrote about her, I don’t remember and I don’t care. I’m not wearing whatever the hell is in the bag!

“Today, you will both see the burden of carrying fantasy too far. You will see that upholding an image of yourself for someone else can be not only exhausting, but unhealthy.”

Violet too had shifted in her behavior, though perhaps the change had been more gradual than I realized. Her initial awe of Desmond, and the politeness that came with that, had ebbed. She acted around him now as if he were an older brother, or rather, her older brother’s big black friend.

“Let’s see what Syd wants me to wear,” Violet said playfully, reaching into the bag and pulling out a skirt so

 short I thought it was a headband. “Wow. Why am I not surprised?”

I crossed my arms, head shaking. “I don’t want to complain –

“So don’t,” Violet cut me off.

“Violet,” Desmond mused, “let him finish.”

Violet bit her bottom lip ever so slightly and nodded at

me to continue.

“I don’t want to complain but this seems like more of

the same to me,” I moaned. “And I’m still trying to figure out what the point of yesterday even was.”

Desmond placed a hand on my shoulder, warm and strong. “I know it can be a lot to take in, Sydney. But you must trust me. Trust the process. I am not doing this to torture you. I’m here to help you.”

 Violet sighed, irritated. “It’s funny the commitment you have to video games and porn, Syd, but somehow this is too much to take. God I wonder if you’ve learned anything this week!”

“Violet!” Desmond reprimanded her, raising is voice more than he’d done at any point, and to be honest with you – it startled me. Violet looked like a chastised puppy. I didn’t know how to continue, or what to say, and I think Desmond saw that so he continued. “We are not here to judge each other! Now, if Sydney is uncomfortable that is perfectly fine! But I would ask you my boy, to dig deeper, and find some courage!”

Desmond’s encouragement, paired with Violet’s death stare, backed me into a corner with only one option left to me.

 “Fine,” I submitted. “But I’m not going out in public tonight.”

“That is okay,” Desmond said. “What we are doing tonight will require focus. Please, both of you, turn out the contents of the bag and get to work. Tonight, the two of you will help one another dress, one article at a time. Good?”

I knew better than to complain. Violet and I dumped the duffle bag out, and there was no shortage of clothing to sort through. Amongst the pile were high-topped shoes, at least six inches, and I prayed they weren’t for me. A corset style top, the aforementioned tiny skirt, beads and jewelry. Once we’d separated it all out, it was time to change. But there was one problem.

Desmond was still in the room. Watching us. “Um, Desmond?” I started.

 “Yes, Sydney?”

“I think we have it from here...”

He raised his eyebrows. “Have what?”

Violet looked at me impatiently.

“I mean, we’re going to change into the clothes now,

like you said... can we have some privacy?”

It seemed a reasonable request leaving my mouth, but

something in Desmond’s initial reaction told me that I was about to be tossed and tumbled through his vague and often frustrating wordsmanship until I thought myself the asshole.

I wasn’t disappointed.

“I’m not here to spy on you, silly Sydney,” he said playfully. “I’m here to observe and adjust. If I do not see how the two of you interact with one another at this crucial stage in your marriage’s evolution, how can I hope to

 counteract or redirect any behaviors or feelings that work against our primary cause, furthermore...”

Desmond’s accent was always front and center, but his mastery of English vocabulary reminded me of a politician, and soon enough I realized I wasn’t following him anymore.

“You’re saying we need to change in front of you?” I said, exasperated. “But I mean, my wife, Desmond. She’ll be in the nude we can’t -

“Oh for fuck’s sakes!” Violet shouted, and promptly pulled the blouse she was wearing right over her head. She wore a black lace bra underneath, the ocean of her breasts spilling out. Her right hand snaked to the middle of her back as she reached for the clasp.

“VIOLET WAIT!” I screamed, too late.

 The weight of Violet’s tits dropped that bra like a bad habit. They spilled and swung into view, nipples wide as my palm, pale and pink and flat.

“Violet what the fuck!”

“You’re holding things up, Syd!” She said, annoyed. “I don’t care if he sees, he’s a professional for Christ’s sake! And if I don’t care, that means you don’t get to care. Now let’s get to it!”

I stood open-mouthed, gaping at her luscious tits. With great effort I turned and looked at Desmond, who was blatantly staring.

“Please try to control your outbursts, Violet!” Desmond reprimanded her, his eyes burning holes into the pale flesh of her tits. “I know this has been hard on you both but you must keep yourself together.”

 Violet faced him, maybe three feet away, her heavy mounds catching the sunlight pouring through the blinds. She pouted. “I’m sorry, Desmond.”

My mouth had gone dry, I tried to think of something to say.

“The sooner you dress her, the sooner you will get what you want,” Desmond pointed out.

Nodding, stupefied, I followed Violet’s lead.

Her breasts jiggled between her arms as she reached onto the bed and picked up the high tops.

“Who the heck are these for?” She asked.

“For you of course,” Desmond replied. “To fit your description of how you wish to see Sydney. Don’t you remember?”

 “Not exactly,” Violet said, topless (why the FUCK is my wife topless in front of this man in MY goddamn bedroom!).

“We’ll review,” Desmond said. “But first, outfits.”

Noticing that all the male clothing seemed to be a black men’s suit of some sort, I quickly found the white dress shirt and went about helping Violet into it. The sooner her breasts were away, the sooner I could breathe, or so I thought. The whole scenario had sent my blood to boiling, but the problem was, I didn’t know who to be angry at.

When it came time to drop my pants, I froze.

“I’m going to put the skirt on in the bathroom,” I said, so sure of myself.

“What difference does that make?” Violet spat. “It’s still short as hell and the panties are see-through.”

 The truth of what she was saying made my stomach hurt.

“What panties,” I bemoaned. “I didn’t see any panties!”

“These panties,” she snapped, scooping them from the bed top and holding them up so I could see: pink and lacey. “Are you going to argue about everything, Sydney?”

I looked to Desmond for help. He placed a finger of his mouth to remind me that he was merely observing. How convenient, I thought.

“Fine,” I said, unbuckling my pants and turning my back to them. “Just give them here.”

Violet watched me drop my boxers to my ankle, a wicked sneer on the corners of her mouth. I knew my white ass was on full display in front of Desmond, but I

 figured he was probably to engrossed with Violet’s tits trying to pop out of her dress shirt to notice.

I pulled the lacey pink panties up my legs and felt them cradle my dick. I don’t know what went through me right then, maybe it was because I’d never felt actual lace on such a sensitive place, but it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world. It wasn’t something I’d ever admit to anyone either, but still, it shook me.

Suddenly, Desmond was at my side, observing.

“It holds you well,” Desmond said. “No spilling out the sides.”

It seemed a strange remark; strange enough that I didn’t know how to respond.

“Now the skirt,” he said.

 The leather skirt, once fastened around my waist, barely made it past the panties. My lower ass cheeks stuck out – I confirmed in the mirror.

Piece by piece we built each other under Desmond’s watchful eyes. I think the humiliation and invasion kept my mind occupied, too occupied to see what was happening right in front of me. It wasn’t until Violet had laced her boots up that I realized the truth of it all staring me in the eyes.

Violet was a good six inches taller now with the platforms. The men’s suit, though masculine, hugged her curves enough to give the silliness of it an allure. She was taller, more put together. It stung – is this what she wants out of me? The impossible?

But that didn’t hurt as badly as what I saw in the mirror. The corset top was so tight on me I could barely

 breath, the cups for the breasts stuffed with cloth. Over that, a black mesh see-through top that, had I cleavage, would have shown everything. The skirt and the panties clung to me, painfully tight, wrapping me in their humiliation.

“And the makeup,” Desmond pointed out. “You are not done yet, Violet. Please pay attention!”

“Sorry, Desmond,” she purred, all too sensual for my liking.

Violet sat in my lap, like I was a college girlfriend in her dormitory, sticking gems to my face, applying mascara and lip liner, all while giggling incessantly. Things were beginning to feel unhinged. What if this had been the first day with Desmond instead of the fourth? Would have I gone for something like this then?

 My eyebrows tickled with the powder Violet applied. The chalky smell of the blush filled my nostrils. The skin on my cheeks and chin dried and pulled taut with whatever waxy substance she used. This was substantially more makeup than the previous day, and yet every time I thought to open my mouth to protest, I questioned the validity of the remark. I guess maybe I just didn’t want to hear Desmond explain to me how I was wrong anymore.

The wig was last, dirty blonde with shoulder length hair and bangs.

“Oh come on already,” was all I managed, and even that was drowned out by Violet’s incessant chortling. The tips of the bangs were ticklish on my forehead, whatever material the hair was made of was entirely unpleasant.

When Violet was finished, we stood side by side before Desmond. She was taller than me now with the

 platforms, and the three-piece suit she wore somehow drove home how emasculated I’d become.

“Very good,” Desmond said. “I want you both to remain in the clothes you have on now until you have been intimate later tonight.”

I strained my ears. What had he said?

“It will be a different experience for you both I’m sure,” he continued, the traces of a smile tugging the corners of his full mouth. “I will leave a special package at the door on my way out. You can open it if you need some help getting in the mood.”

Desmond was telling us to have sex, or rather, it sounded as if he was giving us permission to.

“Remember that tonight is about shouldering burdens,” Desmond said. “If this is truly who you want to

 see in your partner, then you should learn to understand what is required of one another.”

With that, Desmond strode from the bedroom. In the last hour he’d seen my wife topless, seen me naked, and made strange remarks all along the way. I didn’t know if we were just that deep in an alternative therapy method, or if perhaps maybe, just maybe, Violet and I were being taken advantage of.

But Violet didn’t think so, which left little space for my own doubts. With a deep breath we plowed into the strange evening that awaited us.

 Night 4

The alcohol came out after Desmond left, Violet and I eager to dull the blade of strangeness that had formed double-edged between us. Violet was silly yet beautiful in the high shoes and men’s suit. My own predicament was many, many rungs higher on the latter of shame.

He’d given us a simple task: have sex. But you can’t imagine how difficult it can be to woo even your own wife when you’re dressed as a woman head to toe, wig and all, and can barely stand to look her in the eyes. So I drank, and then I drank some more.

By the time nine o’clock rolled around we were both three sheets to the wind and hadn’t said much to each other over the last several hours. Sitting with Violet in the loft upstairs, I could see all varying degrees of confusion and uncertainty in here eyes, maybe secrets, too.

 “So you want to see me doll up like a bimbo, is that it, Syd?”

I scoffed. “I didn’t write the word bimbo. I wrote that you have an amazing body and it wouldn’t hurt to show it off... this is not what I had in mind.”

She laughed again, a sound that had come to grate on my nerves. “You’re just too uptight about the whole thing. Too back and forth. One second you say you’re in, then as soon as it gets difficult, you’re out again. This really doesn’t have to be so hard, Syd, honest.”

Despite the absurdity of her clothes, Violet looked as fuckable as ever. And considering I’d cut the porn out, at least temporarily, my libido was high. The only problem was I had a pair of silky panties on it which made the idea of getting an erection ridiculous. And yet, as we sat there and I soaked in Violet’s beauty, the feel of that foreign

 garment against my neglected manhood seemed to awaken it.

I leaned in to kiss Violet, but I might as well have been a rodeo clown to her. She shrieked laughter and slapped at me, playfully, friendly. I sighed, irritated.

“It’s Daddy Desmond’s orders you know,” I said, sarcastically. “We’re supposed to be ‘intimate’ tonight.”

“Daddy Desmond, huh?” Violet mused. “I was kidding. Obviously.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What?”

“Oh nothing...”

Tense silence wedged between us. She was thinking. Giggling. I was ready to call it a night and finally take off that abominable alter ego when Violet took hold of my hand and batted her eyes at me.

 “I don’t think Desmond was saying we’re supposed to fuck tonight,” Violet said.

I went to pull my hand away but she held on.

“Not in the usual way, I mean,” she continued, pulling me closer to her. “You’re me tonight, right? Or, how you want me to be. And I’m you. And you haven’t even asked me why. Why the suite, why the height...”

It was true. I was angry, to an extent, with what she wanted out of me. The part about my height stung more than I thought it would.

“What’s your point?” I asked.

“Well, if you are what you want me to be... how do you want me to fuck?”

The loft felt warm suddenly. Our bodies moved closer together.

 “I want you to be open,” I whispered. “I want you to be eager.”

“Submissive?” The word like a flower on her mouth. “Yes,” I admitted.

“Good,” she said. “Then you can show me exactly what

you mean.” “How?”

“Aren’t you paying any attention, Syd?”

Violet led me down from the loft and across the hall to the master bedroom. On the bed was the box Desmond had left for us. She clopped over to it in those asinine shoes and tore the top open. She smiled at what she saw inside.

“Looks like you didn’t get all the accessories,” Violet said. “Desmond left one for me too.”

 “It’s about time,” I sighed, standing there in my short skirt and corset top, blonde wig, clip on earrings, and bright red lips. “What did he leave you?”

“It’s for us,” she smiled.

Violet beckoned me to the bed and I came. She kissed me in a way I didn’t recognize. It was similar; tender and full, but it was foreign. Like we were almost strangers. Her hand slipped under my skirt, palming my quickly hardening dick over the lacey pink panties.

I pulled away when I saw what was in the box. “It’s a joke,” I stuttered. “Has to be.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable, Syd? But why? I

thought this was the exact sort of thing that got you hard.” Without realizing it, I began to actively back away

from my wife, who was walking towards me with a large

 black dildo clutched in both her hands. It was about eight inches, thick, and resplendent with straps for fastening.

Violet dropped her suit pants and briefs. Her luscious pink pussy shown in the lowlight of the bedroom for only a moment before she placed the toy over it and strapped it to her waist. She gripped it with one hand, at the base, hulking her posture as she did so.

“Wow,” Violet breathed.

“Violet we can’t,” I started. “Whatever you’re talking about doing we cannot do this!”

She pinned me to the wall and I could feel myself giving in. The attention Violet was giving me now was intoxicating, even if it emasculating. The wine, the abstinence, the tension... it had been building all week. It was as if some door I didn’t know existed was suddenly and simultaneously thrust in my face and opened wide.

 “You want me to be your little slut don’t you, Syd?” Violet breathed into me, poking and prodding my crotch with her new cock.

“Fuck yes,” I said.

“You want me to be your submissive little slut. Say it.” “I want you to be my submissive little slut,” I

trembled. The hood of my skirt hung over the ebony strap on, and the synthetic rubber tip of the thing was prodding my stiff pecker.

“Try again,” she said, her free hand wrapping around my neck. “Say it again but say it right. You want me to be your submissive slut...”

I fumbled, I reeled, I said what came bubbling up: “I want to be your submissive little slut.”

Violet smirked and licked my mouth. Then she urged me to my knees, drawing the length of her new appendage

 across my face, teasing my glossy mouth, smacking my flushed cheeks.

“I can see your clit in there,” Violet said. “Go on, Syd... Rub it for me. Rub it for me while I show what you a big cock tastes like.”

Adrenaline rushed through me, hearing her talk like that. Never in all our years had anything come close... Had she really called my dick a clit? She’d never led on that she thought my dick was small, even if we both kind of knew it to be true. But now, seeing the size of the dildo she was thrusting into my mouth, I couldn’t help but think about what she might have written in that journal the day before. Had she really told Desmond that she wanted a bigger cock? I shuddered to think about it even as I grabbed hold of my erection and began to pump.

“That’s right, Syd. Very good.”

 Violet humped my throat steadily, holding onto the blonde wig atop my head to help steer.

“I think we’ve hit a turning point,” she moaned. “I think you’re starting to reach your full potential.”

 Day 5

“And what did we learn last night?”

Desmond was cool and collected as always, his broad face peering at Violet and I.

“I think we’re understanding our roles better,” Violet said slyly.

I fidgeted. The previous night had felt wrong since I woke up that morning. It was too distorted and odd to piece out why it had happened at all. But whatever it was, I’d gotten it out of my system. I was done playing dress up.

“This is very good,” Desmond said. “Because we are approaching our final act, and for this we must be prepared to dig even deeper.”

Sighing, I wondered what that might entail.

“It is important that I know, in detail, what exactly took place between the two of you last night,” Desmond

 continued. “Of course I cannot stay and watch such a thing, that would be an invasion of your privacy. But an honest account of events will help us greatly as we come to the most important part of our journey: intimacy, or as you might call it, love making.”

I clammed up, stomach turning, skin pale. I didn’t want Desmond to know what Violet had done to me last night. I didn’t want anyone to know.

But before I could make an excuse, Violet blurted it all out. Every detail. I stared at my shoes while she spoke to Desmond, and when she finished, couldn’t bring myself to look anywhere else.

“And when you finished playing with the toy,” Desmond said, undisturbed. “Did either of you reach climax?”

 “We both did,” Violet mused. “I took the strap on off and Syd went down on me. He pleasured himself while he did it, and well, we both got there at the same exact time.”

I could hear the approval in Desmond’s voice. “This is a great victory! This shows progress!”

“I’m not sure I understand it,” I mumbled, eyes still averted.

“Well that is because what we have done is very complex, Sydney,” Desmond assured me. “We have scrambled expectations in order to find structure, and by unravelling this paradigm will we find the truth of the matter!”

I leaned back and rubbed my temples.

“You see it is quite simple,” he went on. “You submitted to Violet last night, but on a deeper level, you gave in to an image of yourself that you will never be. The

 superior man. Your obsession with black men and white women, as we saw on your computer, has fueled your world view, Sydney! And by bowing before your perversion last night, you have told your wife exactly what you want from her, and more over, and this is the good part Sydney –since you in effect were your wife, this allowed Violet to show you what she wants from the very same entity!”

When he finished, Desmond sucked a large breath of air in and clapped his hands together.

“What entity?” I asked, realizing with donning horror what Desmond was saying.

“The strong, well-endowed black man,” he said. “It is this archetype that makes you inadequate, Sydney, and it is the very same that your wife wishes you were.”

I don’t know how long the silence that followed was. It could have been hours for all I know.

 “Are you suggesting that I want a black man to fuck my wife?” I said it plainly because I knew no other way.

“I am saying that you have proven yourself to be capable of providing, Sydney,” Desmond went on. “Emotionally, financially, on and on. But part of knowing your role, is knowing what you are good at, what you are not good at, and more importantly, what your wife needs from you...Did you know in some cultures, the women take two men to help balance responsibilities? One can take care of the home, the finances, even kiss the punani on occasion...and then there is another that satisfies the wife physically and completely. These are roles, just like any others, where once fulfilled by the right person there can be harmony in the home and in the marriage.”

Violet sat beside me, listening in silence, nodding her head once in a while. To read her expression was to say she

 understood everything he was saying, and yet I found myself repulsed at the entire inclination.

“That’s not right though,” I protested. “I know what I want and it’s not that.”

“But your bodies already agreed, don’t you see, Sydney?” Desmond sang. “Your bodies met and surrendered to a hidden truth. Now it is up to your heart and mind to follow, but to do this, there is only way to proceed.”

I leaned forward, afraid to ask. “And what way is that?”

“I don’t normally do this,” Desmond said, tone tinged with anticipation. “But it is not unheard of... I will offer this special service at no extra cost to you because I have seen the efforts of your labors and wish for them to be rewarded.”

 Now Violet was leaning forward as well, hanging on to his every word.

“There may be some discomfort for the both of you,” he said. “But we will work past this, find the pleasure, and fix your marriage once and for all.”

Desmond Deep led my wife and I to our bedroom.

 Night 5

It took a few hours to get everything to Desmond’s liking. My constant questions and arguments delayed things a good long while as well. My strength of protest swung from outright refusal and politely asking Desmond to leave, all the way to mouse like quietness, throwing pouty looks at Violet every chance I got to try and guilt her over to my side of things. But no matter what I said or did, neither of them would hear it. The night would go as Desmond wanted, and that was that.

“This is for us,” Violet reminded me, sitting in our bed, waiting for Desmond to come out of the bathroom. “While we’re still young, Syd. We need to know what we’re both getting out of this, and how we can make each other happy.”

 I was sitting in an old armchair, wooden framed with a worn cushion seat, highly uncomfortable. My wrists were taped to the armrests, my ankles taped together while my feet fidgeted on the floor. Desmond had said it was for honesty – he needed to be able to see me, he needed to make sure I didn’t leave without discussion. It was only at the allowance of a safe word, toast, that I even agreed to be restrained. If I said the word, Desmond assured me it all came to a swift end.

Still, I couldn’t have been more terrified and nervous.

Violet wore white lingerie, something she must have picked up in the last few days because I’d never seen it before. I’d certainly never had her in it. She looked nervous, albeit less than I was, but there was an overriding excitement to her lax body language that I found hard to deal with. She lay cross legged, back against the bedframe,

 huge breasts pushing at the white lace and testing the durability of the bra straps. The white thong she wore creased against her pale flesh.

How had I gotten here, bound and made to watch my wife with another man? Was it actually happening? Was I actually going to let it happen?

I could hear Desmond finishing up in the bathroom, he’d be in any moment. Then what? My mind flashed back to the panties and skirt, to my painful erection erupting against the fabric, my mouth locked around Violet’s love button, the long black dildo lying beside us on the bed – as if it were watching everything between us. Could Desmond be right? Could this be what I actually desired, for myself, for my wife?

The bathroom door opened and Desmond Deep stepped naked into my bedroom.

 “Everyone ready?” He asked, his voice deep and sensual.

“Mm-hmm,” Violet hummed.

I couldn’t speak. Desmond was black as pitch, every muscle in his body defined like he’d been carved from marble. Curly pubic hair started at his belly button and ran down to a forest at the base of his swinging cock. It was swollen and half raised, with a fleshy hood reaching out past his absurd length. His great shaggy balls swung between his thighs as he approached the bed. I’d seen plenty of large, oversized black penis’s online, but seeing one up close was more jarring than I expected.

Especially when Violet began to touch it.

Desmond held her in his arms, his big strong hands reaching around and groping Violet’s pillowy tits. His fingertips dug dimples into the supple flesh, squeezing,

 and drawing a high sigh from my wife. My stomach did backflips. Violet’s fingertips brushed the man’s rod as their tongues began to intertwine.

I tried to move and remembered I could not.

Desmond pulled his tongue out my wife’s mouth, but kept on fondling her as he spoke to me. “You are doing what is right, Sydney,” he assured me. “This is the only way we can know for sure. And once we do, the rest is easy.”

Their mouths smacked and popped against one another, and Desmond’s cock grew under Violet’s exploratory touch. The contrast of colors was arresting: inky black against the milky white, the blonde of her hair strewn against his dreadlocks. It was sensual. Far more so than what I’d seen on the internet. This was intimacy, not porn. Their bodies were coming together like water, not

 rocks for hammering, and they intwined in one another the way bodies do in love poems.

My jaw was slack, my mouth was dry. When he sat against my headboard, legs spread wide, and commanded Violet to suck his cock, I said the only word that mind could conjur in that shocking moment.

“Toast,” I said, voice cracking. “Toast?”

They looked at me.

“Are you sure?” Desmond said, unmistakable

disappointment in his voice. “Once it is over, we are done here for good, Sydney. And all this week will have been for nought.”

Violet rolled her eyes. “Can you just shut up for five fucking minutes, Sydney?”

 Desmond laughed sudden and loud, trying to stifle it but failing. Violet was bent between his legs, lifting his cock with both hands to her mouth.

“We haven’t even done anything yet,” Violet said, opening her mouth. “No toast. Fuck off.”

My whole world stood still when pulled back the foreskin on his hulking cock and wrapped her pouty lips around his member. She sucked him, slow and deep, working his shaft like an industrial peppercorn grinder.

Desmond placed his hand on the back of her head, and helped to feed my wife his colossal cock.

“It can be shocking at first,” Desmond said to me, my wife slurping him. “But if you allow yourself some grace you will probably find that you enjoy this. Look at her, Sydney. Look at your wife. Have you ever seen her so eager to suck a cock?”

 It was intense. She was gagging herself on it, jerking it faster, challenging herself to take it deeper and deeper down her throat. A river of spit ran down his dark shaft, slicking the pubes at the base, running bubbly down his balls.

“The work we do here tonight will set your marriage up for success,” Desmond said, “and you will thank me for my services.”

When he pulled her to him, lifting Violet by the ass and lining his mushroom tip up at her entrance, I couldn’t help but notice the way she through her arms about his shoulders, so close and familiar.

“Wait,” I stuttered. “What about protection. A condom?”

“They do not fit,” Desmond assured me. “But...but...”

 Violet lowered herself slowly on to him, her mouth parting, moaning loud and thighs shaking.

“Oh Desmond,” Violet whined. “Oh baby you’re so big. OH.”

He cradled her as they fucked, slow and deep, connected. I became instantly hard in my boxers, and Desmond, not one to miss anything, noticed.

“There it is, Sydney,” he smiled, my wife’s ocean of breasts smothering him. “Enjoy your wife’s enjoyment. Lift her up. Let her have what she needs, and in so doing you will have what you need. Embrace your role, Sydney.”

Violet glanced back over her shoulder as Desmond began to suck her erect nipples. She giggled when she saw my pink head poking through the crotch hole of my boxers.

 “You like watching him fuck me, baby?” She asked, as happy with me as she’d been in a long time. “Like the way his big black cock stretches me out?”

I squirmed, desiring so badly to touch myself.

“Tell her Sydney,” Desmond said, “and perhaps I’ll let you have use of one of your hands.”

I licked my lips. “I like the way he fucks you, Violet.”

“Thank him,” she moaned, grinding up and down on his endless pole. “Thank him for giving me what you can’t.”

I grimaced, heart beating out of my chest, desperate.

“Thank you for fucking my wife, Desmond,” I pleaded. “Please... I want to touch it so bad...”

In one smooth motion Desmond lifted Violet, still inside her, and transitioned into missionary. Her head hung off the bed so she was looking at me upside down.

 Desmond tore her bra away, and when he began to fuck her again, I could not take my eyes of the constant sway of her heavy tits.

Then, for all his inspirational talk and ceaseless advice, Desmond seemed to forget all about me. He grabbed hold of my buxom wife and drilled his long black cock in and out of her pussy, while I sat and listened to Violet make sounds I’d never heard before.

“My hand,” I begged. “Please...”

But no one was listening. Violet gazed into his eyes, and Desmond did the same back. Her petite frame looked fragile as he slammed into her, and sometimes I didn’t know if she was in pain or pleasure.

“Toast,” I said, after an hour of watching. “Toast!”

But no response came. Desmond had her on all fours, plowing her, smacking her pale ass until both cheeks were

 beaming red. Violet’s orgasms hurt my ears. Her shaking whimpers wounded my heart. And still my dick poked from my boxers, dripping clear cum from the tip, begging for release. I tried to ignore the feelings it was giving me, those confusing terrible feelings of jealousy and resentment, because the lust trying to erupt from my body was so needy.

Desmond grunted like a hungry grizzly bear, and went so deep inside Violet that I watched his huge hairy nuts press against the crack of her ass. I watched those same nuts convulse as he unloaded inside her.

“What are you doing?” I moaned, shaking. “You can’t do that. Not inside her!”

But still they ignored me. Violet wrapped her legs around his waist, accepting every drop, clawing at his back as he filled her with his spunk. He grunted over and over,

 and Violet came so hard against his cock that she appeared to lose consciousness for just an instant.

When they separated, I was whimpering the same word over and over.

“Toast...toast...toast.” My brain had short circuited. My dick was ready to erupt at a thimble’s touch.

Desmond pulled out of her and a flood of thick cum followed.

“Toast...toast...”

Desmond got off the bed, slick with sweat, and approached me. He tore the tape from my right wrist and like a magnet my palm came to my neglected manhood. I stroked madly, in a trance, staring at the river of cum spilling from my wife.

He laughed at me. At me. I could feel it. And Violet, well, she picked her head up off the bed long enough to

 watch my shoot it all over myself, a pathetic mess of a man, destroyed by temptation.

The cum went cold on my crotch as Desmond retaped my hand to the armrest.

“Wait,” I begged, breathless. “Wait.”

But he was already back on the bed with her, stroking himself back to life, playing with her breasts in a rough, slap and pinch sort of style.

“Toast,” I said, louder than before, ready to be rid of this scene now that I basked in my post-nut clarity. “TOAST!”

Annoyed, Desmond let go of my wife’s tits and stood up. When he grabbed hold of the chair I was taped to, his pulsating club of a cock grazed off my cheek. I could smell her. Then, he lifted me and the chair in the air, and walked out into the hallway with me.

 He set me down beyond the door.

“Wait her,” Desmond said. Then he turned, walked back into the bedroom, and slammed the door shut. The last thing I saw was the smile on Violet’s face, framed between his powerful thighs and obscured by his ballsack.

Then her screams started again, and went well into the night.

 Day 6

I woke up on the couch. The events of only a few hours ago came flooding back as I approached my room, and then hit me full in the face when I saw Desmond asleep in bed with my wife. Her naked form clung to his chiseled chest, and Desmond faced the ceiling with a look of peace etched on his face, eyes closed, lung rising and falling in a steady, satisfied rhythm.

Defeated, I backed out of my own bedroom and left Violet alone with her lover. I went to the living room and waited for them to wake, which took the better part of the morning, and when at last they did arrive it was clear that Desmond wasn’t planning on going home any time soon.

“As much as I would love to dwell on last night, we are reaching the end of our time together, and we still have much to discuss.”

 Desmond was shirtless, in my kitchen, drinking coffee out of my favorite mug. Violet was in a bath robe, nothing underneath, a shine to her complexion that could have only come with a long, tiring night of fucking.

I was having trouble believing what normal had become in my own home.

“Today I want you to put into practice everything we have learned so far,” Desmond said between sips of joe. “Show me that you know how to be around one another, in the way that fulfills your roles, so that tomorrow when I leave, we can be assured that you have completed the program with stripes.”

I chose my next words carefully.

“I think maybe I’m going to call the rest of the program off.”

Desmond looked up, surprised. Violet too.

 “It’s just too unorthodox for me,” I continued. “A lot has happened the last few days and I think I need time to process it.”

I caught the slightest passing of looks between Violet and Desmond, a concern that melted away into confidence. Desmond held his hand up to Violet, as if to say, let me handle him.

“It would be unwise to discontinue your therapy at this vital stage,” Desmond said, showing no hint of worry. “I can sympathize with what you have been through, Sydney, even for the sheer taboo of it. But let’s not act as if anything was forced upon you or Violet. Everything that has happened, has happened with consent.”

I scoffed. “I was shouting the safe word at you for nearly forty-five minutes before you did anything!”

“I removed you from the room did I not?”

 I shook my head, frustrated. Violet came to me, trying to console me in her own way, but I could smell him on her skin.

“We’re almost there, Syd,” she said, running her fingers through my hair. “I know things got a little wild last night, but it wasn’t anything serious, and no one has to know. We were trying something out... you didn’t seem to mind it all that much.”

I wanted to scream at them that just because I got hard and jerked off didn’t mean I was okay with other men fucking my wife. But could I say something so hypocritical out loud to either of them at that point? I couldn’t.

“All the same,” I said. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Desmond.”

“Then I’m leaving too,” Violet spit, her patience at its cutoff. “You only ever think about yourself, you know that?

 Like I haven’t been right here all week, putting the time in, putting the work in!”

I rolled my eyes. “You’ve been putting the work in all right.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How dare you.”

“Please,” Desmond said, putting a hand in the air, “bickering will not help.”

Desmond came around the counter, a pair of striped boxer shorts the only thing shielding his unholy weapon from the light of day, and placed a familiar hand on my shoulder. “Violet will you give us a moment?”

Violet nodded and left, but not before glaring at me with the force of a thousand suns. When she was gone, Desmond and I stood in silence, an uncomfortable battle of wills that he was winning the longer the silence stretched.

 “This has not been easy for you, Sydney.”

“I know...”

“Backing out now would cause some unfortunate

fallout I think.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His hand drifted from my shoulder to the arm, the

bicep, his long fingers wrapping around it just tight enough to remind that it was mostly flab there.

“It means there are certain bridges we have crossed that cannot be uncrossed. Instead of looking for a way back, it’s best for everyone if we continue to move forward. I know this is how Violet feels, and it’s also how I feel, Sydney.”

He was very close to me now. The strength of him, the force of his being, I could feel it. It was just as real as if

 he’d had me in a headlock or a full nelson. His palm was warm on my skin.

“Today and tomorrow,” Desmond said. “That is all. I think you can make it that long. Don’t you?”

However magnanimous and convincing Desmond’s soft side was, however warm and confident and magical, it was the darkness I saw in his eyes now that was his greatest threat. I could have said a million things to him, chief among them being are you threatening me? But that would have been a stupid question, wouldn’t it? He’d said nothing and everything all at once.

And you might ask yourself, why didn’t Sydney call the cops? Well, you’d be surprised to find what’s left of your ability to do anything once you’ve been stripped of your masculinity and confidence without even realizing it had happened.

 Except in that moment, I did realize it. I knew it sure as I knew anything at all, and suddenly I saw Desmond for who he really was: a con artist. A womanizer. A homewrecker... some self-made Pussy Assassin who had come to my home for one thing and one thing only.

“I can make it,” I said slowly, scared. “Today and tomorrow.”

“I knew you had it in you,” Desmond smiled, that darkness breaking like storm clouds around a persistent sun. “Well, since that is settled, let’s find Violet and get started.”

We found Violet in the living room, pacing back and forth, the worry on her face breaking when she saw Desmond’s arm around my shoulder.

“Today we loosen the leash,” Desmond addressed us both, “and prepare for my departure tomorrow afternoon.

 Now, I am a firm believer that Saturdays are for the wives. So today, Sydney, your goal is to please her in any way she wishes. Spoil her. Violet, your goal is to lift up your husband’s strengths and nullify his weaknesses. And above all, treat each other with kindness. I will be nearby, here and there, listening and observing. Today is an important one, where you will act independently of my coaching, and see if you are indeed ready to move on into this next phase of your marriage without the help of my services.”

Desmond left us alone, though I’d bet my life he was within earshot.

“You look well rested,” I said.

Violet smirked. “That’s funny because I didn’t get much to sleep.”

 “Yikes,” I grimaced, flashing back to the image of the two of them in bed together that morning. “You don’t think things went too far?”

“I think we’re finally waking up, Syd,” she said. “Our old life is dead to me now. I know what I want, I know what you want, and I’m ready to be the best wife in the world to you. As long as you can return the favor.”

She was different. This wasn’t an act. I asked myself a tough question – when was the last time she was fucked like that? Had she ever been? What kind of effect does that have on a person, I wondered.

“I’m not happy being a cuckold,” I said. “You know that won’t work.”

“Why not?”

 The bluntness of her retort infuriated me. “The hell do you mean why not. Because I want to be the one to fuck my wife, Violet!”

“And you still can,” she said. “Sometimes. When it’s needed. When it’s what I desire. When it’s what you desire.”

“I do fucking desire it,” I said, exasperated.

“Then why did it take a black man coming into our home to make you realize it?”

I struggled with words. “I don’t know!”

“Yes, you do,” she said. “As of last night, you do know. And now, so do I. I’m not going to argue you with you all day, Syd... you love me, don’t you? You want this marriage to work out?”

“Of course I do!”

 She reached into my shorts, squeezing my cock to life in a second and a half. It was unlike me to be so quick to physical arousal. “Then let go,” she breathed. “Let go and let me take care of you. Everyone has their role, Syd...”

“What do you want me to do?” I breathed, momentarily surrendering control (or so I thought).

Violet smiled. “You can run out to the store and buy me some new lingerie. After that, stop and get us some pastries from the bakery we love. Then wine, something expensive.”

“Is that all?” I sighed.

“There’ll be more when you get home, but run along for now.” She kissed me.

“What are you going to do?” I asked. For the first time, I noticed a mark on her neck near her collar bone. The skin was splotchy and red and round. A hickey.

 “Maybe I’ll take a shower,” Violet said. “Maybe I’ll watch movie.”

I tore ass into town as fast I dared, barely stopping at red lights, eager to get these chores done and get back to the house before any shenanigans could take place between Violet and Desmond. Lingerie? Since when did she shop for lingerie, and moreover, why the hell would she trust me to pick out something sexy? What did I know about it?

I didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I move quickly.

The lady at the lingerie shop had a sugar sweet smile and asked me what bust size my wife wears. She looked like I’d told her my wife has crocodiles for breasts when I said double E. She quickly composed herself and directed me to a special section of the shop, where I picked out the

 first thing I saw; a purple pink scandal that I prayed was for me and not Desmond.

The pastries and wine were quick, and less than an hour after sending me out, I was returning home with my speedometer topping around sixty-five on neighborhood roads where children played.

When I came stumbling inside, shouting Violet’s name to let her know that I was home, I quickly realized that my worries were well warranted but my rushing around was not: it wouldn’t have mattered if I was gone five minutes or five hours, because they’d gotten to it the moment I was gone.

And they made no attempts to hide it.

Desmond sat in my favorite recliner, bare assed, with a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other. Football was on, college games, and the soundbar was

 blaring the obnoxious color commentator at a grating volume.

OH THAT’S GOTTA HURT, TOM! DID YOU SEE THAT!

Violet was on her knees, between Desmond’s dark chocolate legs, hunched forward as she used the entire length of her arms to bunch her fat tits up to either side of Desmond’s raging rod. His cock was long enough that she could get her mouth around it, gobbling greedily as she bounced her breasts along his length.

“Holy fucking Jesus,” I gasped, dropping the shopping bags to the floor. Violet looked over at me, mouth open and wet, a mixture of surprise and guilt on her face. Desmond didn’t take his eyes of the game.

“Go! Go! GO!” Desmond called at the screen, the word sounding like music note.

 “What the fuck,” I reiterated. “What the fuck is going on?”

“It’s a me day, Syd,” Violet said, perfectly reasonable. “I was gonna take a shower but then I saw Desmond and decided to fool around. You’re not mad are you?”

What could I say? Of course I was mad, mostly confused, but pissed to be sure. But for the faintest second when I first walked in and saw them there, it was as if all the porn I’d ever obsessed over had crossed over into my reality. As if by muscle memory, a half erection came to life in my shorts, and the accompanying confusion sent me into a tailspin.

“Keep going,” Desmond said, placing his hand on the back of Violet’s head and pushing her mouth back to his uncut enormity. “Let your anger pass, Sydney,” he was flippant, eyes never leaving the football game. “Violet

 asked me, not the other way around. I am here to support your decisions and lift this marriage up. That is exactly what I am doing.”

Listening to him drone, for the first time I wondered if he made all this stuff up on the spot. Handbooks and procedures, steps and practice... it was all bullshit.

“Well what am I supposed to do?” I asked, so dumbfounded I could think of little else.

“Another beer would be good,” Desmond sighed, his flat stomach started to rise and fall quickly as Violet took him deeper. “If you don’t mind, of course. OH! UH-HUH! OH!”

I clutched my stomach and cried out.

Violet’s eyes went wide with shock, she pulled back instinctively but Desmond grabbed her head with both hands and held her there, exploding in her mouth.

 “OHHH-UUUGGHH!” Desmond shuddered.

My breathing was erratic, watching Violet try to swallow what he was giving her but failing to get it all back, watching it drip thick and white from her mouth and sliding the length of long black cock straight into his tangle of pubic hair. It was messy, and wet, and far, far too detailed and alive for my liking.

I turned away, dick hard as a fucking rock. I choked some awful sound out.

“Holy shit that’s a lot of cum!” Violet cackled when she was finally allowed to breathe. I couldn’t look at her, but I could hear her funny way of talking, like something was stuck in her maw.

I started to sulk away.

“Thanks for going shopping, baby,” Violet called. “Can you go upstairs and run me a bath? I thought I’d drink

 wine and eat pastries in the bubbles, you know, since it’s my day.”

I forced myself to turn and see them. Violet, naked, using some tissues to wipe the run away cum from her neck and chest. Desmond, not having moved an inch, slouching wet cock pooled along the top of my favorite recliner, eyes glued to the football game.

“Sure thing, Vye,” I whispered.

“And then later,” she winked at me, “maybe we can play.”

Desmond cleared his throat and turned up the volume. “Don’t forget the beer.”

By the time the day ended, Desmond had dropped the act entirely, casting it aside like a pair of shoes outgrown. Technically, he’d gotten what he came for, and with time to spare. So why waste his breath explaining to me why it

 was my duty to let him fuck my wife? And he didn’t have to explain it to me, not anymore. I wasn’t acknowledging this yet, but something fundamental had shifted when he came in Violet’s mouth. Sure, he’d fucked her the previous night, and he could have very well cum in her mouth then (though Violet’s reaction seemed to indicate it was a first for her), but to do it in front of me the way he had, well, it felt like he was rubbing my nose in my own defeat. And that show of aggression ripped the will from sails, and it’d been done so swiftly I’d not even known it had happened.

I couldn’t help but wonder if a similar fate had befallen Violet’s friends - the ones who’d recommended Desmond in the first place. How far had he gotten with them? As bad or worse, I imagined. But thanks to the God that is the NDA, I may never know. And just the same,

 they’ll never know what happened to us, either. Not for sure, not exactly. But they’ll have an idea.

After her bath, Violet appeared troubled. She'd had a conversation with Desmond when he came in to help scrub her down - a conversation I wasn’t privy to because I was cleaning out the gutters at her request - and whatever he’d said, it seemed to have shaken her confidence. Now, with the three of us on the back patio, she gazed distantly.

“How much is another week of coaching?” Violet asked Desmond, a sudden hopefulness in her tone. “If we haven’t you know, made enough progress? Would we get a discount since we’ve worked with you before?”

I stared at her incredulously. Desmond only shook his head.

“I have other appointments on the books,” he said. “Too many obligations with too many couples. As much as

 I would love to stay on with the two of you, I cannot. And besides, there is no discount and I do not think you could afford it.”

Violet pouted. Desmond smirked at me, and with that smugness now plain to see, I felt like lunging across the table and strangling him. In my anger, I missed something else happening on the man’s face – his eyes, or rather the light bulbs exploding there.

“But recently we have been expanding,” Desmond went on, a nonchalance in his rhythm that I knew was the tell for his unethical improvisations. “There are other opportunities opening up within my life coaching enterprise.”

I looked at Violet, she seemed intrigued but not satisfied. What was going on?

 “Well what about outside of business,” Violet said. “What if we took you on, you know, as my friend with benefits or something. We all get along, and maybe we could try a sort of throuple situation –

“Fucking hell, Vye,” I sighed, pushing my face into my hands.

“Oh grow up, Syd, we’re all adults. We can talk about this stuff!”

“You’re just assuming I’d be okay with you having a boyfriend, Vye? Really? Have you lost your mind?”

Violet grilled me. “Well what do you expect us to do after Desmond leaves tomorrow? The whole point of this was uncovering the truth and we found it – I like big black men and you like watching me with big black men –

“VIOLET!” I screamed.

 “IT’S TRUE” She shot back. “So instead of pretending, we need to figure out what comes next. If Desmond can’t stay on to, well, take care of me in that way we’ve decided, who is going to do it?”

I was speechless, yet again. I prayed that when Desmond left, these new expectations of Violet’s would fade, and this whole thing would be some forgotten kinky nightmare from when our marriage became boring. Did she really think this could continue on once he was out of the picture?

“Tell me about the other opportunities,” Violet said, turning on Desmond with impatience. “The ones you mentioned.”

Desmond clasped his hands together, took a deep breath, and spoke: “I have some employees, family from Jamaica and refugees from Sudan... I have been training

 them in the program. Some have shadowed me already, learning the nuances, the process. There are a few who have worked their way up the latter and are handling some of my more delicate ‘follow up’ appointments. If this is something you think would benefit your marriage, I would be happy to offer a month’s worth of ‘follow ups’ with my well-trained staff as your on-call mediators.”

When I saw Violet actually listening to his bullshit, I mean really listening and considering it, I saw red.

“You mean your buddies will come over and fuck my wife free of charge, is that it, Desmond?” I was fuming. “They aren’t your fucking employees. They’re your friends, strangers to me and Violet. And you want to pass my wife around to them like she’s some fucking village bicycle. Well no fucking thanks!”

 I half expected Desmond to get stern with me again, and frankly, that’s all it would have taken to shut me up. But instead, he smiled a toothy grin and me and clicked his red tongue - why would he need to threaten me at all when Violet was so ready to do it herself?

And do it she did. All the usuals, threats of divorce and a lifetime of unhappiness. She even went so far as to reprimand me for questioning Desmond’s professionalism, and demanded I apologize to him for ridiculing his methods the way I had. All I really wanted was for her to keep her voice down, because I really, really didn’t want the neighbors to hear.

“And for you to assume I’m just some whore who will fuck anything with black skin and a fat cock,” Violet pressed her final point out in a rush of air between her

 clenched mouth, “how fucking dare you, Sydney! How fucking dare you!”

Defeated and silent yet again, I bowed my head.

“When could we meet some of these, um, employees,” Violet said, after taking a minute to calm herself. “I’d prefer it if you were there, Desmond, to make introductions,” then, after pausing, “you too, Syd, of course. Sorry for yelling at you, baby. It’s been a crazy week.”

Desmond stood. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going,” Violet asked.

“To make some calls,” Desmond said. “I can have

three of my best men here tonight to interview, and perhaps we can find the right man for the job.”

I glared at Violet, as if to say, you’re really going to let him do this?

 But she wasn’t looking at me.

 Night 6

I wore a suit, the one Desmond picked out for me. And not just the suit.

But more on that later.

The doorbell rang at 10pm. Late for an interview. Violet got up to answer it, Desmond in tow. She wore a black top with a keyhole cutout in the center to reveal a shocking swath of her pale breasts. The shirt was tucked tight into tighter blue jeans, the outfit rounded out with some black boots. Whoever was at the door, I thought, was in for a pleasant surprise.

But of course, I knew who was at the door.

Sort of.

Violet came back into the living room with the four

men, Desmond included, trailing her. If this had been the start to one of the videos in my search history, I’d have

 rejoiced and reached for the lube. But sadly, the star of the show was my wife, and the movie set was my life.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Violet said, as politely as she could though her voice shook with nerves. “I’m Violet, this is my husband, Sydney.”

Desmond took a seat beside me on the loveseat, the only other seat on it, so Violet and the three strangers had to make do with our elongated, L-shaped couch that was just big enough for all of them.

“I am Khaled,” he said. He was blacker than Desmond, a rich oil color that amplified the whites of his eyes and teeth, and the red of his lips and tongue. He was tall, skinny, and perhaps a little older than Desmond.

“Me name is Delroy,” said the other, another Jamaican. His head was shaved, he looked younger than others, much younger, perhaps freshly twenty. His frame

 was broad and strong, with hands like a grizzly bear, and a scent like freshly trimmed cannabis.

“Musa,” said the third, his voice croaky and low like a frog. His hair was short on top, his fingers exceedingly long, and a scar traced from his neck up to the corner of his mouth.

They were all three dressed shabbily, poor attempts at professionalism, and I wondered if Desmond had simply called three of his pals and thrown this together on a whim. The more I looked at them, the more it appeared so.

“These are my finest men,” Desmond said, clapping me on the back. “Well trained, several years now, yes?”

Khaled nodded, seriously. Delroy chuckled. Musa made no sign that he’d understood the question.

“I take it Desmond has filled you in on the particulars?” Violet said, looking at Delroy, then Khaled,

 then Musa. All three men were staring at the cutout in the center of her top; at the dreamy tits stashed in there. “I’m hoping, or rather, Syd and I are hoping that one of you might be a good fit for continuing our marriage counseling. After Desmond leaves, of course.”

Delroy sat up, closer to her, breathing on her. “Me thinkin’ we can start raght’ away,” his accent was even thicker than Desmond’s. “I can come on Mundey’s, Toosdeys’, any day you want.”

“Is that so,” Violet stuttered, under a spotlight of male attention. “And you, Khaled and Musa? Do you have availability?”

Musa said nothing. Khaled nodded.

“That’s good to know,” Violet looked at me. “Do you have any questions for them, honey?”

 “Are you guys actual life coaches or are you just friends of Desmond’s?” I asked, bluntly.

“Damn you, Sydney!” Violet spat.

Desmond chuckled. So did his Jamaican counterpart. “Not only do they work for me, but they are skilled in

this exact sort of case. I believe I told you on day one, Sydney, that your desires are not uncommon for white men. My friends here have pleased many white women, and more importantly, many white wives. They will respect the boundaries of your marriage, while providing the space needed to fill its holes.”

Musa’s tentacle like fingers curled around Violet’s breast. First she gasped, then came a string of girlish giggles.

“Hey now just wait a minute,” I said, anger flaring. “You can’t grab her without permission!”

 “It’s fine, Syd,” Violet smiled, biting her bottom lip and letting the man from Sudan grope her. “I need to know how skilled these guys really are if we’re going to be having them over regularly.”

Regularly? I thought the word but didn’t say it, too stunned and stupefied to even think straight as more black hands ran rampant across my wife’s body. Delroy helped her get the shirt off, and Khaled was there fills his palms with her great mounds of flesh and nipple. Musa kissed her neck, sucked her earlobes. She was falling back into them, and they took her right there in front of me.

Clothes came off – everyone but Desmond and I. Black bodies, long limbs, smooth cocks, all large – so much larger than she was used to if you didn’t count Desmond. Words in foreign languages I didn’t understand,

 commands in a thick Jamaican accent as they got greedy with her mouth.

“Perhaps we should join the fun, Sydney,” Desmond chuckled in my ear. He stood and walked to the couch, disrobing as he did so. “Come Sydney, you’ve been kept at bay long enough... that is, if your wife doesn’t mind.”

Violet looked at me, pure African cock in her mouth while Musa probed deep in her soaked cunt with his elongate fingers. She winked at me, inviting me to join them – if I dared.

I didn’t. Not with the secret I was carrying. Not now and not like this.

Desmond and the others lifted her off the ground, sharing her between the four of them, her arms and legs suspended against ebony limbs as Khaled feasted on her cunt and the other stook turns sucking her tits and tongue.

 “Come on baby,” she moaned. “Take your clothes off and jerk it... you know you want to... you know you love it.”

And despite all the injustices of the week, she was right. I was painfully hard, rubbing myself over the front of my pants, ignoring the subtle irritation of what as between then and my cock.

They started by taking turns on her. Laying her out on her back across the ottoman, planting their feet to my hardwood floors and drilling her pink pussy deep. Musa’s cock was like a piece of tree limb after a forest fired, charred black and chalky, slicking over with my wife’s lust as he took her.

“Don’t be shy, Sydney,” Desmond said, placing the length of his cock across Violet’s moaning face. “No one here expects you to compete. Remember – I don’t judge

 you, Sydney. I’ll fuck your wife of course, but I’m not going to judge your inferior penis.”

It wasn’t that and he knew it. I was past the point of feeling insecure about my size – if any of Desmond’s crazy “life coaching” had helped, it was certainly in that department. Inadequacy was child’s play compared to what I’d been put through.

My dick was starting to burn from rubbing it over my pants and the other thing. How I wanted it out so badly, gripped in my sweaty palm, stroking...

Delroy placed Violet on her stomach, legs together, tits dangling over the edge of the couch as he took her prone bone. He kept her hair pulled back, so that she faced me, every moan directed at me like rifles in a firing squad.

The others crowded her, using her mouth, while Delroy used her cunt.

 “Why does the white man not take out his cock?” Delroy asked, smacking Violet’s ass red and grabbing hold of the ample flesh there. “Is he cockless?”

Khaled laughed, steering his own uncut member past Violet’s tired lips.

Musa said nothing, slapping his snake cock off her cheek.

“Come now,” Desmond pressed. “Take of your clothes, Sydney. Perhaps Violet here will even suck it for you.”

I was sweating through my shirt, a thousand degrees in that stupid suit.

“Come on baby,” Violet moaned between mouthfuls, “pull it and stroke it for me, you know you wanna...”

It was when Desmond put her on top, him sitting in the middle of the couch and she reversed on his dick with

 three more in her face, that I finally lost control, and began to tear the clothes from my body.

But not all of them.

The bra was fastened to the middle of my back by a tiny padlock. The panties the same, the padlock along my waist. Desmond’s idea for the new lingerie I bought Violet – that pink and purple nightmare. I could have torn them from my body but it seemed to be inviting trouble, and besides, was it really a secret anymore? Not since midweek, I figured.

Musa’s laughter caught me the most off guard. Wild-eyed and open mouthed he cackled at me while he fucked my wife’s face with a foreign ferocity. He pointed at me, his cock down her throat, and even spit – the wad of white hitting me in the chest.

 But all of them were laughing now. Violet too, Desmond of course. I had my rigid white cock poking out the sides of the pantie’s crotch, stroking furiously, almost immune to their mockery. The lingerie was soft and silky, and not a stitch of it went unnoticed by my skin – my awareness and humiliation so heightened.

“Another satisfied couple,” Desmond sang out over the throng of laughter, his face buried in my wife’s tits.

I shot my load out onto the floor, whimpering as I did it. At the very same moment, Violet screamed her orgasm.

We’d done it again – kismet cumming, totally aligned.

 Day Seven

I hid in the guest room until noon.

I listened to each man’s departure through the door. Violet sent them off with a kiss, and a promise, that she would be in touch. I don’t know if she remembered, but at some point in the previous night’s frenzied she’d begged Musa to return on Monday. That was tomorrow.

Would I still be hiding in the guest room then, I wondered.

 I listened to her say a long goodbye to Desmond. Long periods of silence between words, accompanied by smacking sounds. And when at last the demon was finally out of my house, it was on the breeze of words spoken by my wife so filled with longing and melancholy that I wondered if perhaps she was in love with him.

When Violet’s footsteps came pattering down the hall, I raced back to bed, and pretended to be asleep. She came in, closed the door behind her, and sat down beside me, her tender hand running through my hair.

They’d kept at her until the wee hours of the morning. Unlike the first time with Desmond, I saw everything. Every nut, every gag, every shaking thigh and crack of her porcelain skin. And I’d done it from inside my wife’s lingerie.

Things such as these can change a man.

 “Sydney baby,” she whispered. “Look at me.”

I rolled over. She was beautiful, none the worse for wear, and with absolutely no sign that she’d spent the night getting bulldozed by oversized black cocks.

“Is Desmond gone?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

“He didn’t say goodbye...”

“Is that what you wanted?”

Up until then, no. I wanted him gone and no parting

farewell was needed. But somehow, his abrupt departure left me feeling, I don’t know... quite empty. The man had shown me things in his quest for my wife’s pussy, and it hadn’t just been by way of a con job. What exactly those things were on a philosophical level, I can’t be sure.

Though I was more confused now than prior to his arrival, something had been rattled inside. I was acutely

 aware that I’d never play a video game again or waste another Sunday watching football – and most importantly, never would I turn down sex from my wife as long as I lived.

“Do you hate me?” Violet asked. “Do you hate him?”

I sat up to face her. She hadn’t showered yet, I could smell them.

“I don’t hate anyone,” I said. “I love you, Violet.”

She beamed at me, and planted a loving kiss on my cheek. Her hand slipped below the blankets and found my aching dick.

“Hard already, are we?” She smirked, tugging. “It hasn’t gone away,” I breathed.

“Did you have fun last night?”

“Yes...”

 “And will you welcome our new friends with open arms the next time they arrive.”

I moaned, so close to the edge. “Yes...”

Violet’s mouth came to my ear, her words wet in my brain. “Musa likes you. He liked your...outfit.”

I shook my head – no. Don’t go there, Vye. It’s not for me...

“He told me he’s got plans for you, Syd. Things he wants to do with you... things he wants you to wear...”

Fuck, I couldn’t hold it, I was spurting against the bed sheets, slicking Violet’s palm, grunting like a wounded animal. She wouldn’t let go.

“And you’re going to do what you need to do to keep me happy, aren’t you, Syd?”

Violet let go of me and wiped the mess off onto my thigh.

 I buried my face in her breasts and fell asleep.

THE END...