THE BLACK-OWNED BROWNS by Throne (Patreon)

THE BLACK-OWNED BROWNS by Throne

I'll say right in the beginning that what happened is mostly my fault.  When I married Lela she was pretty conservative sexually.  A lot of that attitude came from how much attention guys had paid to her in the past.  She is curvy, a bit overweight, with a lot of her excess plumpness in her rear end.  Add long pale-blond hair and a sweet face, and you can see why I was attracted to her.  Even so, like I said, she was not adventurous when it came to the bedroom.  I began to work on her in that area, though she initially resisted.

I often heard things like, "I'm not sure about doing that, Fred," or "Do you have to take pictures of me wearing this?"

Over time, I wore her down.  She even began to enjoy it.  In our second year of marriage, I broached the possibility of swinging.  At first, she was resistant to the idea of us having sex with other partners.  Then, while I was showing her some profiles online, she noticed how well hung some of the guys were.  Without her saying it, I sensed that she was comparing them to me, and wondering how different penetration would feel from a bigger cock.  She even spotted one Black guy who had a monster between his legs.  I quickly scrolled past that one.  

Our first two experiences with swapping went well, though they weren't spectacular.  I picked up a vibe that my average penis – or maybe slightly below average – was being counted against me. When pictures were taken, I tried to keep it hidden from the camera.  After those encounters with other couples, her enthusiasm was high.  She even declared that she wanted to pick our next partners.  I checked over our profile, to make sure I came off looking good in it.  There we were, Fred and Lela Brown, me okay and her mouthwateringly tempting.  She even added a shot of her exception bottom, so round, so firm, so fully packed.  I figured that it wouldn't be for everyone, and she wanted to be clear about how big it was, so it would attract guys who were into a double-bubble like hers.  

Someone emailed her right away.  She wouldn't let me see who it was, because she wanted to surprise me.  All my efforts had paid off, so much that she was capable of taking the lead.  That was exciting but also a bit scary.  Even so, I went along with it, and we arranged to meet the couple at their suburban home, a nice split-level in an attractive neighborhood.  She put on a snug, zipper-front top, along with slacks that fit like a second skin.  If the guy was into big butts, that view would drive him wild.  I went with my usual sport shirt and slacks, along with a sport coat.  Loafers.  No tie.  All that was calculated to project an image that was casual but well put together.  

We got to their door in the early evening.  I rang the bell.  When it was answered, I got the first of several unwelcome shocks.  Standing in front of me was a tall man with broad shoulders.  He had on an expensive, short-sleeve shirt and designer jeans, with slip-on shoes.  He came across like I had intended to, but did it better than I had.  As he smiled down at me, I was temporarily lost for words.  That was mainly because he was Black.  There was a reason I skipped over the profiles of Afro couples, though I had never said anything directly about it to Lela.  She was supposed to figure it out for herself.  I should have been more definite.  

"Hello," he said cheerily.  "You must be the Browns.  I'm Drake Wilson.  Come in and meet my wife Yvonne."

Lela gave me a nudge.  I entered their home on wooden legs.  The big man led us to the living room.  His wife got up from the sofa and greeted us.  She was taller than my bride, but with a similar figure.  Her hair was short and natural, and large hoop earring reached almost to her shoulders.  She had on a simple blouse and skirt, with low heels.  Lela gave her a warm hug.  I supposed the two women had communicated, while I was being kept in the dark for my surprise.  Drake offered us drinks.  I asked for a rum and cola.  Everyone else had red wine.  The gals chatted merrily while he went to get the beverages.  He came back and we all did an informal toast to our new four-way.  Yvonne went to the kitchen to put some finishing touches on a snack tray she had made.  Drake followed, to assist.  

Once we were alone, I said to my wife, "This is a bigger surprise than I expected."

She told me, "There's more to come.  But first take a peek at these."  On her phone she showed me some photos I had never seen before.  They were from our past encounters, but not scenes I remembered.  Basically, whenever I had fallen asleep after sex, she had posed me with the husband, so it appeared that I had a history of gay encounters.  "I know there are a lot of people you wouldn't want to see these, starting with your boss.  So, be a good boy and go along with whatever our new friends want to do, and no one else has to see them."

Holy crud!  She was blackmailing me.  I was dumbstruck.  Before I could think further, the Wilsons returned and put the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa.  Everyone else enjoyed the tidbits that were on it, along with their wine.  I didn't eat, instead concentrating on my drink to provide some liquid courage.

"You know," Drake said, "we can't always find couples who want to be dominated.  Finding you two is a treat."

"Damn right," seconded Yvonne, her tone suddenly stronger.  "Especially a PAWG like Lela.  My husband just loves a phat ass like hers."

Drake agreed, "Sure do."  He went on with, "Now that we've had a little vanilla-time, let's get down to business."  He stood up.  "Get naked, slaves."

Lela said, "Yes, Sir," her voice soft and submissive.  She rose and took hold of the ring of her top's zipper, about to lower it.   

With cold authority, Drake ordered, "Not that.  Get those slacks off first, bitch.  I want to see that fine booty."

She did what she was told, as if she had been born to obey.  Yvette snapped her fingers at me, her face written over by impatience.  I wanted to not cooperate.  I wanted to grab my wife and flee.  But then those pictures replayed themselves in my mind.  My boss was more homophobic than me, which is saying a lot.  I couldn't afford to lose my job.  Lela didn't seem to even care.  Her eyes were on the prize, of being turned into our hosts' property.  I had started her on the path of trying new modes of sex, but never anticipated that she would be attracted to that.  

Lela quickly got nude from the waist down.  Drake snapped at her to come to him.  He openly pawed her bottom, right in front of me.

"Hey, Freddy," he said.  Did he know that I hated to be called that?  "Does this girl give good head?"

"What?"

"Can she suck cock like a ho?"

I was afraid to keep silent.  I didn't want to give him an answer that would displease him.  "Yes."  Remembering how my wife had addressed him, I amended that to, "Yes, Sir."  Just to be safe, I added, "She sucks cock like a pro."

While I spoke, I shed my jacket and began unbuttoning my shirt.  Yvonne came to me and boldly grabbed my crotch.  She manipulated my genitals through my pants.

The Black woman said, "Not much down there, from the feel of it."  She went on, "You're not a shower.  Are you a grower?"

Drake broke in with, "The bitch can answer that."  He gave my wife's ass a playful swat.  "Does Freddy's cock get much bigger?"

"No, Sir," she said without missing a beat.  "He's kind of small where it counts."

"Is that so?"  Drake wanted to know, "What did you think when you saw the dick picture I sent you."

"I knew I had to have it.  Yours is so much bigger than his little sprout."

I had never had my manhood criticized before.  It was a powerful blow to my ego.  I finished removing my shirt and slipped off my shoes.  After I undid my belt, I hesitated.

Yvonne snarled, "What are you waiting for, fool?  Weren't you told to strip down to the skin?"

When I looked to Lela for support, she gave me a disapproving expression.  I reluctantly got out of my pants and removed my socks.  All that remained, between me and the curious eyes of the dominant couple, were my boxer shorts.  With no support from my wife, I lowered my shorts and stepped out of them.  Yvonne told me to give her all my clothes.  She took them, along with Lela's slacks, and left the room for several minutes.  My keys, wallet and ID were all in my pants.  Drake's wife returned, emptyhanded.  She came to me and checked my male parts with disapproval.  

"I can see you were made to be a sub, boy.  Do you stick that little thing into your wife's precious pussy?"

"I...  Yes, Ma'am."

"Must be a big disappointment for her."  She reached out to capture my nipples between her thumbs and forefingers.  As she began to roll the nubs, I tingled all over.  My penis stood up.  She stepped back to examine the change and laughed out loud.  "Damn.  I hope you got more to offer with your mouth, than you do with that punk pecker.  Do you eat twat as good as your wife gobbles cock?"

The crudeness of her question made me freeze up.  Lela spoke for me, saying, "He doesn't do that, Ma'am.  Freddy says it's not manly."

"What he's got below the waist is what's not manly.  That's a little boy peter.   Before the end of the night, he's going to learn all about licking the pink."

I gagged involuntarily.  Yvonne grabbed my ear and twisted it.  "Don't make no noise like that when I talk about you slurping my snatch.  That's an insult.  For that, you can kiss my ass."  

She unfastened her skirt and in a flash, it was gone.  The tall woman pushed down forcefully on my shoulders.  My knees buckled.  She turned her back on me.

Drake said, "You heard her, boy.  Kiss that thing."

Her wide sitter was all I could see.  This was a nightmare.  Despite my revulsion, I puckered up and planted several kisses on each cheek.  I could smell her female scent.  When I was done, she grabbed my hair and pulled me along.  I rose into a crouch and followed clumsily.  She sat in an armchair, spread her knees, and pointed to a spot between her feet.  I knelt in the bay of her long legs.  Looking over her thigh, I saw that Drake had pushed the coffee table aside and was seated at the center of the sofa.  He made Lela finish disrobing and motioned for her to come nearer.  She put herself right in front of him.  He lightly stroked the silky hair on her mound and then ran a finger down the lips of her sex.  She shivered and gasped.  

"You're my property now," he told her.  "What are you?"

"I'm your property, Sir."

"That's right.  And you do whatever you're told, if you don't want that ass smacked.  In fact, I better spank it anyway, just so you know your place."

Lela hugged herself.  "Yes, Sir."

"Put those hands at your sides.  Never try to cover up when you're around me.  You can do that at home.  Maybe I'll even tell you not to let your worthless husband see you naked.  I might even cut off your sex life with him, since you're going to get what you really need from me.  Now put yourself across my lap, bitch."

To my horror, she did exactly that, offering up her glorious backside.  Without another word, he raised his hand and brought it down hard, not once or twice, but a dozen times.  She squealed and kicked her feet and dug her fingers into a throw pillow.  When he stopped, I could see even from my angle, that her buns were bright pink.  She lay there, sobbing.  

"Sit up next to me," he said.

She did it and he leaned in to kiss her full on the mouth.  She responded fervently, acting like she never had with me.  He fondled her breasts and pinched each nipple, hard enough to make her moan.  Then he stood, rapidly got his pants down to his ankles, and sat again.

My wife gaped at his cock, which was dark and huge.  He took her wrist and put her hand on his thigh.  At a word from him, she handled his member and it sprang to life.  Soon it was standing up, with a fat head.  He put a hand on the back of her neck.  She didn't need any extra coaxing as he pushed her down until her mouth was above his knob.  She opened her lips wide.  He let go and she voluntarily descended further, until she had engulfed the end of his tool.  Lela sucked it with a passion.  He pale fingers curled around his dark meat, as far as they could reach, and she slowly stroked it.  He sighed and let his head loll back.

Yvonne told me, "Watch the show, junior.  After she's done with him, you'll take a turn with your tongue in my kitty."

I stared in dismay as Lela worshipped his superior organ.  Her nipples were stiff and her cheeks were flushed.  She closed her eyes, as if she was in a trance.  As she descended, I was amazed to watch his enviable length vanish.  She took in at least half of it.  Yvonne pinched my ear and gave my head a shake, to gain my attention.  

The woman who had me at her mercy said, "Looks like your lady is all about sucking my man's meat.  The only thing she wants more than having it in her mouth, is having it in her snatch.  Heh, heh.  After she's been filled up by that pussy-stretcher of his, she won't ever again want what you've got.  I've seen it happen before.   You're not a real man.  You're just pretending.  Once she's had Drake, she won't want no fake."

The big man's head lolled back.  His lips parted and he exhaled hard through them.  I saw his hips jerk.  I didn't want to believe what Yvonne had said, but in my heart I knew she was right.  I was inadequate.  Lela wanted something I couldn't give her.  Drake was everything she needed and more.  He was about to cum in her mouth.  She backed off until only the knob of his massive endowment was past her lips.  Then she vigorously jerked him off.  He grunted and she was all at once swallowing.  I moaned.  Yvonne chortled.  My wife continued lavishing attention on Drake as he slowly came down from his sexual high.  He leaned over and said something to her that I couldn't hear.  She nodded, got up, and came toward me.  Lela knelt close to where I waited.  Her cheeks were swollen.  Obviously, there was still much of his semen that she hadn't gulped down, added to by her saliva.   She put her hand under my face, with my chin cupped in her palm, and pressed in on the hinges of my jaw.

Yvonne murmured, "Open up, boy."

I did it mindlessly, too far into this weird scene to refuse.  Lela sealed her lips onto mind.  She used her tongue to push a generous glob of male cream from her mouth into mine.  I gagged but accepted it.  There must be lots of her spit mixed in with it.  The sickening stuff rolled over my tongue and slid down the back of my throat.  This was beyond my worst imaginings.  She kept unloading Drake's load into me, finishing up by spitting the last of it.  Then she kissed me playfully on the nose, before licking my upper lip and nostrils, and leaving the scent of his spunk there.  I felt woozy.  

Yvonne said, "You're done with him for now, slut.  Go back to my man and sit next to him, so he can paw those white tits some more."

My spouse smiled and nodded.  She hurried back to Drake and put herself next to him on the sofa.  He rubbed her thigh, fingered her pussy without penetrating it, then let his hand drift upward, over the softness of her tummy, to her breasts.  He not only handled them, but squeezed her nipples until she made sounds that reminded me of a cat in heat.

To bring me out of my distracted state, Yvonne slapped me on the side of my head.  "Get your mouth on my vertical smile and get your first taste of chocolate pussy."  She inched her rear end forward.  

When I hesitated, Drake made a throat-clearing sound of warning.  I lowered my face and kissed her mound, with the tight dark hair above the slit.  Out came my tongue and I licked her from bottom to top.  I had read enough descriptions of the act online, except my preference was to fantasize about two girls going at it with each other.  It was not something I had ever intended to do myself.  Her scent and taste were strong.  My tongue slid over her slippery labia and teased her protruding clitoris.  She purred contentedly.  I detected that she was becoming wetter.  Her thighs pressed against my head and then retreated. I probed and swirled my tongue inside, but mostly I concentrated on that pearl at the top of the increasingly wet furrow.  

Yvonne slowly mounted toward a climax.  She made me slow down twice, so she could enjoy my efforts longer.  Eventually, though, she couldn't wait any more, and gave an impatient tug on my hair.

"Do it, wimp.  Put me over the top."

I fastened my lips to her love button and sucked.  It did the trick.  She was launched into a shuddering orgasm.  That was when I found out that the Black woman was a gusher.  I had to struggle to take all of her excess fluids.  As she settled down, I lapped more slowly, staying away from her most sensitive spot, as it had become hyper-receptive.  

Drake said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, "From now on, white girl, he'll do that for you anytime you ask."

"But what I really wanted," she confessed, "was your big cock.  Still, I know it must be too soon for you to go again."

"How do you know that?" he demanded with quiet authority.

"Well, Freddy needs at least until the next day before he's ready to do more.  And..."  Her words trailed off as a new thought entered her mind.  "But I guess not all guys need so much recovery time."

"Damn right," he assured her.  "I'll be good to good soon.  First, though, tell me what you think of your loser husband now.  Does he seem like much of a man?"

"No.  Not at all."

"And are you going to let him have any pussy once you two are home?"

"Well, I mean, I have to.  We're married."

"So?  If he ain't a man, you need a new plan."  Drake nodded to himself.  "He can eat your pussy when you're horny.  Maybe I'll call you up and talk dirty to you, while he goes downtown."

She giggled girlishly.  "That would be fantastic.  I'm getting wet just thinking about it.  All of this just keeps making me want you inside more and more."

"Then how about if the four of us move into the bedroom.  We got a big bed, girl.  Like a playing field.  Now that I finished once, it's going to take a lot longer to make me bust my nut again.  You don't mind if I have to plow you for an hour, do you?  Hmm?  If I send you home with a sore box?"

Lela was getting very much into the spirit of the moment.  "I don't mind if you fuck me raw, Drake.  After all, I'll have Freddy to sooth my groove with his mouth."

Yvonne contributed, "Now you got it, girl.  You're a sex slave to me and Drake, but that wuss is for all three of us to mess with."

I couldn't believe her words.  Naked and afraid, I cowered between her ebony legs.  She patted me atop my head.  All of us got up and headed for the bedroom.  When he said their bed was large, he hadn't been exaggerating.  He scooped up my wife, held her effortlessly, and deposited her on the center of the mattress.  Then he positioned himself on his knees, in the 'V' of her spread limbs.  

"You want it?" he asked unnecessarily.  

"You know I do.  More than anything."

"Is this going to be the only cock you take?"

"It's the only one around here.  What Freddy has doesn't even qualify to be called that.  It's a nothing."

"And he's no good in bed?"

"He's useless."

"So, that's his new name from now on.  When you're here or it's just the two of you at home, that's all you call him."

Lela smirked.  "I'll even use it, quietly, when we're out anywhere."

"That's right, you dirty bitch.  Tell him what you want, and I'll give it to you."

She looked straight at me.  "I want Drake's big black cock.  I don't want yours, Useless."

As the last word left her mouth, his weapon plunged into her moist sheath.  She cried out in ecstasy.  I saw her toes curl.  My wife grabbed his strong biceps.  He began to pump her.  She couldn't get enough of it.  While the minutes passed, he switched up his rhythm and angle of penetration, which kept her always close to the peak of pleasure.  It went on like that, with me standing by, as silent and straight as a fencepost.  Yvonne was right behind me, with her warm breasts against my bare back.  As time seemed to become elastic and stretch out, Lela ascended to the heights and had a noisy climax.  After what had been probably close to an hour, but seemed even longer, Yvonne reached around and got one hand on my pecker.  The other explored my chest and found a nipple.  She masturbated me, while toying with the two receptive erogenous zones in front.  Her nimble fingers and talented hand kept me on the verge of exploding until my bride was so close to her second orgasm that there was no turning back.  As Lela hollered joyously, Drake's wife gave a few extra fast strokes and a nasty nipple pinch, which combined to send me into my own squealing, hip-twitching finale.  My spurts must have been aimed by Yvonne.  They landed all over Lela's thigh.  

As I stood there panting, the dark-skinned woman informed me, "You're not done yet, white bread.  For starters, you can lick up that mess you made on her leg.  Then you can do for her what you did for me.  Give her some mouth-to-cunt resuscitation."

I muttered a few disjointed syllables, but that was all I could manage.  In slow motion, I sank to my knees.  Yvonne let me.  I leaned in to lap at the uncleanness on my wife's thigh.  How could she ever respect me after this?  I did a good job.  Yvonne squatted and enclosed my small testicles with her hand.

"Up you go, Useless.  Time for the vanilla-complexioned boy to suck some seed."

When she tugged upward on my scrotum, it hurt enough that I had no choice but to comply.  Once I was the foot of the bed, I stared at my wife's overflowing split.  With a sob, I set to my disgusting task.  Yvonne stretched out along Lela's side, with her husband on the other.  They each fastened their mouth on the end of one of breasts.  Between my efforts to orally clean her, and their stimulations, she was soon writhing, under the spell of an overload of arousal.  The deposit that Drake had made seemed to have no end.  I sucked and lapped and forced myself to ingest it all.  Lela had one more climax, this one subdued, but deep and, despite the perversity of it all, or maybe because of that, very satisfying.  I had truly lost her.  

We left about an hour later.  After we'd been home for a short while, Yvonne phoned to make sure we were okay.  She spoke to Lela instead of me.  My wife listened and nodded several times.

After the call ended, she smiled at me.  "That's perfect.  We've been ordered to show up at their place the same day and time, next week.  This is the start of a whole new life."

"But what about me?" I asked, without any force behind my words.

"What about you?" she shot back.  "You heard what they said, while we were there.  From now on, I'm the boss of you.  If I snap my fingers, you'll go straight to my pussy, with your tongue out and ready.  Plus, like she just reminded me on the phone, no sex for you, except while you're there."  She leered at me devilishly.  "And maybe not even then... Useless."

That is how we became the Black-owned Browns.  

*********