THE MASTER CRAFTSMAN! By THRONE (Patreon)

THE  MASTER CRAFTSMAN!

By THRONE

© 2019 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved

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THE MASTER CRAFTSMAN by Throne

Danny was sitting in his  home office, fuming.  His wife Moira had cancelled his membership in the  Midvale Golf Club to pay for some stupid piece of furniture.  He  couldn't believe it.  His annoyance got so extreme that he stood up and began pacing around the small room in his jockey  shorts and sleeveless undershirt.  His wife Moira had the house too  warm, so he had taken off his bathrobe and draped it over the back of  his desk chair.  If anyone could have seen him it would have been a comical sight.  He was short and had a small frame,  with no muscular definition.  What he was wearing showed off those  physical deficiencies.  His light brown hair kept falling into his  eyes.  He hand-brushed it away repeatedly.  Most laughable of all, he was wearing a sour expression that, on his soft features,  made him look like a fretful child.  

"Having fun, dear?"  It was  his wife, standing in the doorway watching him.  He didn't know how long  she had been there.   She walked into the room wearing a short silk  robe, black with a gold dragon on either side, belted at the waist.  It showed off her trim figure and, because  it wasn't fully closed in front, more than a little of her generous  cleavage.  She had large breasts for an otherwise petite girl.   "My  new showpiece is here.  Go out and help them bring it in."  Moira took his robe and draped it over her arm.

He said, "Let me have that.  I can't go outside half dressed."

She walked away from him.   "You're fine like you are.  How long are you going to be out there?   Like a minute and a half?  Just go.  I'll put this in the hamper to be  washed."

As he hurried after her she  ignored him.  Danny sighed and went toward the side door.  What he had  on covered him as well as a bathing suit and beach top.  Shaking his  head, he went out the side door and saw a van that was backed into the driveway.  Standing behind it were two  colored men.  Both of them were tall and obviously strong.  Why was he  required to help move whatever nonsense his wife had gotten custom  made?   Maybe they just needed him to tell them where to put it.  And to make sure they didn't bang into anything.  He noticed  the writing on the side of the truck, identifying the business as  JACKSON'S CUSTOM FURNITURE.  Below that it said Cedric Jackson, Master  Craftsman.  Was that even a thing?  A real title?  Danny didn't know or, at the moment, particularly care.  He just wanted  to get back in the house.

"Yo," said one of the delivery guys.  "Where you want this?"  

"Well, my wife will make the final decision."

"Yeah, Moira.  She calls all the shots."

"What?  No.  I just mean she knows where she wants it."

"Girl knew where she wanted it when she stopped in to give me her order."  He chuckled.  "Sure did know."

"Oh.  She spoke to you in person?"

"Right.  I'm Mr. Jackson.  Master Craftsman.  And we spoke... up close and personal."

"Sure," Danny said.  "Let's just get this thing inside... Cedric."  

The second man at the truck  took a step toward Danny but then his employer said to the customer, "No  problem... boss man.  Just give us a hand if you could."

"If I have to," the homeowner said disapprovingly. 

They opened the back of the  van and Danny spied a long narrow piece of furniture in dark wood.  The  helper climbed inside to get behind it.   Jackson reached in to take  hold of one side and gestured for Danny to take the other. 

"All right," Jackson said.  "When Khalil shoves, us two will pull.  Right?"

"Of course," Danny said with a note of petulance.  He wanted to get back indoors and put on some pants.

"On three." Jackson counted off, "One.  Two.  THREE."

Khalil pushed and the two  other men pulled.  The item slid halfway out and Danny was suddenly  straining to support his portion of the weight.  Jackson had no trouble  whatsoever.  Khalil moved it forward once more and Danny felt his knees getting ready to buckle.

The white husband blurted, "Hey, this is really heavy.  It must be unbalanced or something.  I can't keep it up."

Jackson snorted and said, "He can't keep it up."

Khalil smirked and added, "That's what she said."

The second Black man hopped  adroitly out of the van and took Danny's side, holding it up  effortlessly.  He said, "How about if you get in there and give it a  push?"

Trying to catch his breath, Danny puffed, "All right.  I just need a few seconds."

It was Jackson's turn to quip, "That's what she said."

Khalil offered, sotto voce, "Or a few more inches."

The Black men laughed  at their jibes.  Danny got clumsily into the van and crawled to the far  end.  He put himself behind the piece of furniture, which he could now  see was a coffee or cocktail table.  But the wood was thick, which accounted for it's weight.

"Okay," Danny announced, trying to sound as self assured as Jackson had.  "On three.  One.  Two.  THREE."

He shoved with all his might  but nothing happened.  In frustration, he wedged himself between the  back wall and heavy table to apply steady pressure.

"Guys," he called out, sounding a bit whiny.  "Why isn't it moving?"

"Oh?" said Jackson.  "Are you ready?"

"Thought you needed a minute," explained Khalil.  "Or maybe a oxygen mask."

More laughter.  Danny was furious.  He told them angrily, "This isn't funny.  You two should be able to do this yourselves."

Jackson assured him, "We can.  Do it all the time.  But your cute  wife wanted you here for back-up.  Thought we might need some extra  muscle.  Just in case."

"She didn't...?  I thought she meant for me to..."  

Flustered, he stood by while  they easily slid the table the rest of the way and each got an end.   Their impressive biceps bulged as they stood there supporting it between  them at chest level, then carefully set it down, adjusted their grips, and raised it again.  There were corner  uprights and two more on each side.  The top had a deep cut-out where a  slab of glass would presumably rest.  

"So," Jackson said, as if holding all that weight cost him no effort.  "Where do you want us to put it?"

Khalil gave a half-grin, as  if he was ready to use that suggestive punchline yet again.  Danny's  lower back was sore from trying to assist them.  

He squared his shoulders and said, "Follow me."  Danny started walking.  "Please."

When he opened the sliding  patio doors and directed them through, they still didn't appear to  notice how much they were carrying. As he followed them inside he saw  Moira.  She hadn't put anything on over that immodest robe.  His wife just stood there, her blond hair falling in  waves to her shoulders, legs almost completely uncovered, looking like a  pin-up.  The two furniture men eyed her with undisguised appreciation.   At least, Danny told himself, they should be done in a few minutes.  

He said, "I'm going to get my lounge pants."  He finished pointedly with, "I guess you two will be gone when I get back."

Jackson looked directly at  Danny's crotch.  The householder realized that his tight underwear  showed off the fact that he didn't have much of a bulge down there.  He  never worried about that around the house.  After all, his wife was happy with his abilities in bed so it was  obviously plenty for her.  Right?

The Black master craftsman  said, "Sure, boy.  Cover that thing up.  But we have to stay to make  sure we put this thing exactly where your sweet Missus wants it.  Ain't  that right, Moira?"

"For sure," she answered  with a sly smile.  "I always want things put in exactly right."  She  gave her spouse a challenging look.

He fidgeted for a few  seconds and then said, "Well, I'd better stay.  I live here too, you  know.  And I should... have a say in this."

"Sure, lover," she said smoothly.  "I want you here for this."

Jackson told his assistant, "Hey, Khal, go out and get the top piece."

The partner left and Jackson  considered the position of the table, lined up parallel with the sofa.   He invited Moira to sit, so she could see if she liked it there.  As  she settled gracefully onto the cushion, her brief robe rode up to reveal even more thigh.  Danny tensed.  Did  she have anything on under there?

Anxious to reassert himself,  Danny groused, "I don't even see how this is supposed to be some kind  of master craftsmanship.  I mean, what's so special about it?"

"Oh, see there's a trick to  that," Jackson said, not taking offense at all.  "Most furniture looks  good on the parts everybody sees.  But the real quality shows in other  places, like on the bottom of a desk drawer or the back of a dresser.  Now here, for instance, you got to get up  close and see where those uprights join the top."

Danny glanced at the four corner supports and the additional ones that were spaced along the piece's length.  He shook his head.

"I don't see anything special."

"Not from here," Jackson told him.  "But get down and check it out up close."

The white guy was about to decline when his wife said, "Go on.  Don't insult this man's skills.  Show some respect, Danny."

He got down on the carpet  unhappily and peered under the table.  The work was obviously well done  but he still didn't see anything that special about it.  That was when  Jackson urged him to get his head in there and look upward at it.

"But," Danny objected, "I'd have to lay on my back and..."

"Oh, for gosh sakes," his wife complained.  "Just do it."

"Yeah," Jackson seconded, "do it, Danny boy.  Like your wife tell you to."

More upset than ever, but just wanting to get this done without it  turning into a scene between him and Moira, he got onto his back and  wriggled his head and shoulders into the narrow space.  He was on a  shelf the same size as the tabletop, a few inches from the floor.  Okay, so maybe the skill displayed was above average.  So  what?  He went to extricate himself but Jackson stopped him by placing  his foot between Danny's thighs, right where they joined.

"Hold up there, friend,"  Jackson said, somewhat arrogantly.  "Here comes my man Khalil with the  top.  Let us put that in so you can see how neat the cut is and how well  it fits.  We always try to make sure that our pieces give the best fit."

Moira offered spontaneously, "I'll vouch for that."

What was she saying?  Danny  wanted to question her but the two Black men, leering down at him, were  lowering a thick sheet of transparent material into the cut-out provided  for it.  As it was put into place, Danny felt kind of trapped.  Unseen by the husband, Jackson adjusted several  items of decorative hardware so that the piece was locked in place.

"Now what you have to do,"  Jackson insisted, "is compare both ends.  Take a good look at the fit  where you are.  See?  Now let's move you up to the other end.  You know,  your wife wanted things done so both ends would get a tight fit at the same time."  

He got his hands on Danny's  waist and pushed him further in under the tabletop.  Danny didn't like  being touched there by another man.  It was much too personal.  Besides,  Danny was soft in that area, something he'd been meaning to work on.  Maybe get a gym membership.  To avoid  additional contact he squirmed further into the confining space, on that  hard wooden shelf.   That was when Jackson put a hand directly on  Danny's crotch.

"Let me just give you a little push," the big Black man offered.  

He shoved steadily against Danny's genitals, with enough effort to slide  the helpless man along.  Danny wanted to yell at him to stop that  intimate touching.  Jackson's big hand engulfed Danny's small parts.   The imprisoned husband had his arms alongside him, so he couldn't easily change his position.  

"There you go," Jackson said.  He stood up and grinned down at his captive.  "How does it look from there?"

Danny was staring up at the  enviable bulge in the forceful man's pants.  He averted his eyes from  that and distractedly checked the posts at this end.  Not that he knew  much about carpentry anyway.   

"Yeah.  You're right.  The work looks fine.  Really great.  Now I'm just going to get myself out of here and..."

"No, no, no," Jackson told him with what might be taken for a mocking  tone.  "You got to settle down and focus on how that clear piece fit in  there.  It's all about fitting one part into another."  To Khalil he  said, "Man, get them two other sections.  The special ones we did for free.  I want Moira to see how we got the  hook-up for her."

Khalil chortled and said, "Yeah, the hook-up.  She's gone to love that."

Jackson asked Moira, "So, girl, what you think so far?  Was this worth getting rid of little Danny's golf club membership for?"

"Oh yes.  In fact, now that  he won't need his equipment, I'm thinking of selling that on-line to pay  for another piece from you."

"Sounds good.  Me and Khal always happy to give you another piece... or two."

She giggled girlishly.  Danny had to listen to their exchange from his disadvantaged location.  

"I just have one question," Moira said.  "Is that top sturdy enough?"

"Sure is.  Take a closer look.  Check it out."

Suddenly she was leaning  forward, partway over the coffee table.  Her abbreviated robe fell  halfway open and her spouse got an eyeful of those gorgeous  substantial boobs.  But Jackson was standing right there and it was obvious that he was enjoying the view as well, though from a  higher perspective.  

Khalil returned with two  short sections that matched the dark shade of the table.  Each of the  men took one and moved to either end of the piece.  They fitted them  against the openings and used attached hardware to hook them to the main section.   Danny was forced to pull his feet in  after him, which made him keep his knees up against the underside of  the table's top.  

"See?"  Jackson said  proudly.  "Little serving tables.  With their recessed tops, you can use  them for wine bottles or a bucket of ice with beers in it."

"Hey, fellows?" Danny asked,  trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.  "Could you take them off  again?  There's no way for me to get out of here."

His wife looked down through  the clear top.  "Jeez, honey, don't be such a whiner.  Take a minute  and look at how the new part is so flush with the table.  Isn't that  wonderful?"  To the furniture guys she said, "Speaking of wine and beer, would you two like something to drink?   Wouldn't want you to get dehydrated.  Especially not if you end  up having to do more work."

"Sure," Jackson said,  flashing a victorious look at Danny.  "A beer would be fine."  Khalil  asked for the same.  "And you can take some time before you decide if  you want us to move this."

She left the room and  Jackson sat on the sofa.  Danny was stunned.  What was happening?  Why  was his wife so easygoing with them?  And what was that about selling  his golf clubs?  Even though she had gotten rid of his membership, he could still play as a guest of one of his pals.   She returned with two open bottles of beer and a glass of wine for  herself, everything on a tray.  Moira set it directly over Danny's  upturned face.  She sat close to Jackson, and Khalil put himself on her other side.  The three of them raised their drinks  and clinked them together.  

"Hey," the penned husband said.  "What about me?"

"No drink for you, boy," his wife told him.  "If you're in there too long, you might pee your shorts."

"But, I don't want to be in here.  Somebody needs to let me out."

His wife made an exaggeratedly sad face and said, "Waa, waa, waa.  Poor  little Danny.  And I do mean little.  You know, husband dearest, one of  the reasons I don't respect you is that you're such a flop in the sack.   I mean, with that four inch dick of yours, and the fact that you shoot off before you're all the way in... not that  I can usually tell when that worm is in my pussy... well, you hardly  qualify as a husband."

"Four inch dick?" Jackson  marveled.  "It looked awful small under them tight white undies.  And  when I gave him a helping hand -- heh, heh -- to get him all the way  under there, it sure didn't feel like anything.  I mean, when I hold my tool to take a leak, there's something there."

"A whole lot of something," Moira averred.  "It's a handful.  And a mouthful."

"Wait!" Danny yelped.  "What are you saying?"

"Well, love-of-my-life," his wife told him, leaning far over so that  this time one of her desirable breasts slipped completely out from under  cover, "what I'm saying is that I saw these two handsome brutes making a  delivery in the neighborhood and I wanted to get to know them up close and personal.  So I made an appointment to  discuss having a custom piece made.  And when I was in their office,  well..."

Jackson confirmed, "She got to be OUR custom piece.  And a damn good one, Danny-in-the-box."

The husband shoved  impotently at the bars on either side of him.  He wormed one arm up so  he could push against the closed and locked section past his head.   Bumped his bare feet against the barrier at the other end.  There was no way out unless he raised that thick sheet of whatever  above him.  He dared to attempt that and it wouldn't budge.

"Like I said," Jackson pointed out, "it's a tight fit.  Just like your wife here."

He brazenly put his hand on  Moira's bare thigh.  Khalil reached in from the opposite side to give  her bare breast a friendly squeeze.  She purred happily and turned  her face toward Jackson, who put a hand on the back of her head and gave her a soulful kiss.  Danny squirmed helplessly  and tried not to go into panic mode.

His wife told Jackson, "But I'm still worried about that tabletop.  I mean, would it hold much weight?"

"Damn straight.  It's a  synthetic product.  First time I used it, I could see the potential.   Invested some money and it's been paying back real good ever since."

"You mean like a little second income?" Moira wanted to know.

"I mean like a big fat first  income.  Struck it rich.  I just keep the business cause Khalil -- who  got some of that stock for his self -- and me love to turn out our  one-of-a-kind work.  And as far as that clear stuff holding weight, why don't you sit on it?"

"Honestly?  It could support me?"

"And then some.  Just set that perfect ass right on there, baby."

"Well..." she said uncertainly.  Then she smiled and told him, "Okay, if you say so.  I trust you, lover."

Moira stood and Danny's fear  was proved right.  She was naked under the short robe.  Pushing the  tray to the other end of the table, she sat daintily where it had been,  right above Danny's upturned face.  He had a close-up view of her shapely backside descending and pressing against  the transparent material.  Her pussy was exposed, lips  slightly flattened.  Danny whimpered and put his hands over his eyes,  though he kept his fingers spread so he could see everything.  His small penis gave a twitch.  

"You're right, Jackson," she said gleefully and gave her hips a wiggle.

"Surer am," he bragged.   "But getting back to before, you said this chump husband of yours got a  four inch pecker.  I'm calling you on that.  They don't make them that  small, even on wimpy white guys."

"Oh no?  Well how about we make a bet.  If I'm wrong, I have to give you...  mmmm... a long, slow blowjob."

"Moira, no!" Danny yelled.

"Hey," Khalil warned him.  "Shut up in there, sucker.  This is a private bet between them two.  Who you think you are?"

"I'm her husband."

"You got a four inch dick, you ain't nobody's husband.  Maybe you bring  home a paycheck and take the car to get it gassed up, but you can't be  no husband in bed, not with a baby prick."

"Now, now," Jackson said  calmly.  "It's easy to settle our bet."  He sneered at Danny.  "Just get  them shorts down, clown.  Let's see what you packin'.  Show us your  junk."

Danny looked imploringly at his wife.  "Moira, make them go away.  Please."  He sniffled.  "This isn't fair."

She snickered.  "Oh please,  don't tell me about fair.  Is it fair that I've haven't ever gotten a  single orgasm from you?  And that I've had to pretend that I did?   Because otherwise you'd get all sensitive and want to know if everything was all right with me, as if it was MY fault  that you've got a four inch dick.  Speaking of which, let's have a look  at your miniature manhood."

"Moira," he pleaded.  "Please."

"Get those shorts down now,  Sniffles," she snapped.  "Or would you rather I just default on the bet  and have to give this real man's real cock a completely amazing  blowjob?"

"No.  Not that."  He got his  fingers under the waistband of his shorts.  It wasn't easy in that  tight space, but he worked them down to bare his genitals.  "There.  All  right?  Can I cover back up now?  Darling?"

"Don't give me that  'darling' crap," she scolded.  "And don't try to hide that joke between  your legs.  Let Jackson check it out and, when he's done laughing, he  can decide who won the bet."

Jackson look a long look at  Danny's penis.  "Damn that's small.  The white worm.  The pink  peanut.  It sure ain't no man-size prick.  Thing is, though, it's not no  four-incher.  More like three and a half."

Moira smiled.  "Looks like I owe somebody some head."

"Wait a second," Danny objected weakly.  "I get bigger when I'm excited.  You know that, darl...  I mean, Moira."

"Hmmm."  She put the tip of  an index finger to her chin.  "I guess we'd better see that.  Get your  punk pecker hard and sticking up, Danny.  That shouldn't be too  difficult to do, considering the view I'm giving you."  

She leaned forward and got  both boobs exposed.  They definitely were exceptional, so round and  firm, and a few sizes too large (but in a good way) for the rest of her  figure.  Moira even gave her nipples a few tweaks, which made her purr.  Danny's eyes darted back and forth between  her ass-plus-pussy combination and her delectable tits.  He moaned.   Desperate to save his wife from having to give the Black man oral sex,  though she didn't appear to have any objections to it personally, he got a thumb and two fingers on his undergrown  member.  Sobbing with shame, he began to stroke himself.  When nothing  happened at first, his wife gave her nipples some more attention, even  wetting her fingertips, and told him to do the same.

"You know how sensitive you are there, Danny.  Just like a girl."

With everyone laughing at  him, his wife enjoyed a sip of her wine as he struggled in that narrow  space to get his undershirt up high enough, and then started to play  with his nipples.  Remembering her advice, he stuck his fingers in his mouth and, still pumping himself with his  other hand, got his nipples wet and slippery.  As he continued to  stimulate them, his penis rose.  It got to its full length.  He looked  down his body and could see the tip sticking up, though there wasn't enough of the shaft to stretch up into his line of  vision.  

He said, "See, it got bigger.  Okay?  Now please don't make my wife do that."

"No," Moira told him.  "I lost fair and square.  The bet was that you  were four inches -- soft.  You might be four the hard way, but that  doesn't count.  You were even less than I said.  That really let me  down, Danny.  Now I'm stuck having to get my mouth all over Jackson's cock.  His big... thick... veiny... throbbing...  dripping cock.  I'm going to have to take it halfway down my throat.   His big heavy balls will be resting on my chin.  I'll even have to lick  his balls and suck on them.  Oh my," she said, not sounding at all displeased with those obligations.  "I'm going to  have to give this superior Black man a sucking that would make a whore  blush.  But then, what the hell.  It's not the first time I've done  him."

"That can't be true," Danny said, his nose running and his breathing shaky.  "Please tell me it's not true."

"Well," she said consolingly, "I've only sucked his cock and swallowed  his spunk a few times.  Usually I just use my mouth to get his cock  really up and ready, so he can screw my brains out several times in a  row, and leave me babbling about how great he is.  And what a failure you are.  I've been a busy, naughty girl while you've  been at work these past few weeks, ever since I went to place that  order.  Jackson is a miracle man when we hit the sheets.  Or when I  kneel in front of him.  Or every time he bends me over his desk and drives me crazy.  Imagine how it feels after that to  come home and have to settle for your little white mouse of a dick.   What a letdown."

She got up and turned a  hundred and eighty degrees, so she was facing the end of the table.  He  still had a close-up view of her like before.

Moira said in a  high innocent voice, "Jackson, sweetheart.  Would you bring that monster  cock over here so I can pay my awful debt?  So I can be degraded by  having to lick and suck a big Black man's king-size hard-on?"

He laughed, took a swig of  his beer, and stood up.  A moment later he was standing in front of  her.  She opened his pants and freed his cock.  It was enormous.  Danny  had a perfect view of that, too.  He goggled up at all that meat, eight inches long, super-thick, and not even hard  yet.  But Moira took care of stiffening it, lavishing attention on the  object of her adoration with her hands and then her mouth.  Soon she had  it up to an astounding ten inches, and even thicker than before.  Danny began to weep.  At the same time, as if in a  trance, he kept his hand on his tiny erection and continued to pump it  in slow motion.  Danny didn't want to forfeit the pleasure he was  feeling , but was afraid he might accidently making himself finish.   If he did that it would be utterly mortifying. 

He had to observe from his  worm's-eye POV as his bride lovingly took the bulbous end of that  massive pole between her soft lips and sucked it, while her fingers  continued to tease the shaft.  She licked his balls and, as she had said, sucked on his scrotum.  There was kissing and deep  throating and swirling her tongue around the head while it was outside  her mouth.  Danny was writhing in impotent jealousy.  He had to see her  nuzzle that oversized cock, rub her soft cheek against it, squeeze the end between her breasts, and even tease it  with her hair.  She murmured words of love to it.  But mostly she kept  varying her main techniques of serving the well-hung Black stud:  stroking, sucking, throating.  

"Damn," Jackson grunted after a long session.  "I'm gonna shoot, baby."

She took her lips off his tool only long enough to tell him, "That's what I want, lover."

Moira got her mouth on his  member again, took it all the way in, and massaged his balls as she  swallowed his considerable length over and over.  He growled, tensed,  and clenched his buttocks.  At the last possible second she withdrew until only the head was inside, then sucked  furiously as she used both hands to pump.  Danny could tell that Jackson  was cumming.  The standing man held Moira's head between his hands and  emptied his balls into her.  She gradually eased off on her efforts and finally let his member slip from her mouth.    Cream had leaked out all around, leaving her lips shiny.  She swallowed  and then looked down at Danny, letting her tongue loll out so he could  see that it was still slimed with spunk.  Then she intentionally let a few drips fall onto the clear surface above his  face.  She rose up slowly, her pussy so wet from arousal that it left a  moist print.  By then Danny was clos to an emotional breakdown, sobbing  so hard it made him gasp, his cheeks flushed, tears running down the sides of his face.  

"What's the matter, hubby?"  she asked, and then licked her lips like a cat savoring buttermilk.   "Did it upset you to see what I love to do with a real, giant-size  cock?  How much I enjoy having Jackson's big black rod down my throat?  Poor baby.  Trapped in there with no way to  do anything about it."  She looked over at Khalil and inquired, "Do you  want some of that, too?  Jackson shot a huge load, but I'm still  hungry."

"Thanks, girl.  You're  incredible with that mouth.  And those hands.  And your tight  snatch.  Every time we got together back at the shop, one-on-one or for a  three-way, you were the best.  But now I'm banging another white wife, over on the other side of town.  Same story.   You  know?  Punk ass husband who can't take care of her at night, cause he  got a dick like one of them bite-size candy bars.  Only instead of  chocolate it's vanilla."  He chuckled.  "And I got to save up my shots for her.  Cause the deal is, after I unload in the  afternoon, when he comes home at dinnertime she tells him she's horny as  hell, and the only thing that'll fix her is if he eats her box, like  right away.  The fool keeps asking her why she tastes different and she tells him not to worry, cause it's  perfectly natural.  Except what she means is he's eatin' somethin'  natural.  Pure organic, Black man's cum.  Ha!"

"That's funny, Khal,"  she said.  "I'll have to do that to Danny next time Jackson slams me.   Except that in our case, Danny will know for sure what he's eating."

"Mos def," he agreed.

"So," Jackson said as he  stuffed his big cock back into his pants and zipped up.  "How about we  do this?  The three of us head back to the shop in the van.  Khal can  drive and you sit on my lap, baby.  Then Khal maybe hits on his new lady friend, while you and me hang out at my  place.  After dark us two can head into the city and check out that  hip hop club you been wantin' to go to.  Sound good?"

Everybody agreed that it sounded very good.  Except Danny.

He had calmed down enough to  speak clearly, though still sounding stressed out.  He said, "But what  about me?  You can't just leave me in here."

"Why not?" Jackson wanted to  know.  "Ain't no way you gettin' out.  I designed that top to stay  right where it is.  You just keep calm and try not to think too much  about the fun me and your wife will be havin'."

"B... but..."  Danny was  losing control of his emotions again.  "You can't just leave me stuck in  here.  Like a... an animal in a cage.  It's uncomfortable.   And...  and..."  He had to find some way to convince them to free him.  Then it struck him.  "What if I have to relieve  myself?"

"Say what?"

"If I have to urinate."

Moira shook her head.  "Jeez, Danny, just say that you might have to take a leak.  Talk plain."

"Yeah, Danny the Dud," said  Jackson.  "Talk normal.  You might have to take a piss.  I get it."  He  took his empty beer bottle and passed it in between the first and second  upright.  "You got to take a whiz, just pee into that."

"I can't...  That's not..."  He was sounding really panicky.  "I'm on my back.  How can I use this?"

"Boo hoo," his wife said  unsympathetically.  "Just get yourself turned over.  It won't be easy,  but you're going to have plenty of time.  Then get the end of your  miniature dick up against the mouth of the bottle and let loose."  She barely suppressed a laugh as she mentally pictured  that.  "And then keep the bottle in there with you.  I don't want piss  getting spilled on my carpet."

"You can't do this to me.  It's... it's... just awful.  And if I use the bottle, it'll smell bad."

"Oh shut up," Moira barked  in exasperation.  "You've always been a complainer and now you're  getting worse.  After tonight I'm going to have to lay down some new  rules around here."

"Yeah," Jackson said to support her.  "Like how about Rule Number One  for Danny is he never puts his wimpy dick in your sweet slit again."

"Ohhh," she enthused.  "I like that rule.  And Number Two is that, every  time I've been plowed by your monster-size cock, he has to clean me up  with his mouth, like that other husband does whenever Khal leaves a mess  inside his wife."

Jackson let out a robust  laugh.  "And since he ain't no man no more, we can treat him like our  bitch.  I'm thinking I might want a clean-up from him, too."

Moira's eyes lit up.  "You mean make him lick everything off your cock?  But what if it gets you hard?"

"Then the bitch will have to finish what he started."

Danny moaned in misery.  His wife gave him a devilish grin, along with another eyeful of her tits.  

Khal got up and said, "Okay  if we go now?  All this nasty talk got me wantin' to rip off a piece of  that married girl.  And tell her what we doin' to Danny the dork.  Give  her some ideas for when we break the news to her loser husband that he's been sharing her with a long, thick  black cock."

"Okay," said Jackson.

"Fine by me," Moira agreed.   "I'll be with my sex expert, who has the right equipment to take care  of me."  She peered down at her husband.  "That's what Jackson is,  Danny.  He's not just a Master Craftsman with how he uses wood.  He's a Master Craftsman with how he uses his cock."  

Jackson offered, "And what I got between my legs is like that fine wood, African ebony."  

Moira and Khalil got a laugh from that.  Danny was nauseated.  

Lying on his back on the  hard shelf, his legs already beginning to cramp from their bent up  position, his lower back still sore from trying to hold up his share of  the table, Danny could only listen and feel hopelessly defeated.  He clutched the beer bottle to his narrow chest, which was  still bare from when he'd raised his T-shirt .  His shorts remained  halfway down and he was too intimidated to try to pull them up and cover  himself.  He feared he would be having this feeling of sick dread all the time.  And he was absolutely correct.

*********