Humbled & Humiliated

A sinister snicker slipped from his lips, spilling out just as easily as the red wine he'd just began pouring. Three glasses, on the table situated in the front corner of the motel room. A second snicker slipped from Brian Bailey's lips when he'd just filled the second glass 3/4 to the rim. This time, the 10th District Councilman couldn't keep from turning his head and glancing over his shoulder to look across the room.

She can't wipe the smile away from her face even if she tried, Brian thought. And the 45-year old too smiled.

Travonte had arrived maybe ten minutes ago. In fact, Brian had heard the screeching brakes of his 18-wheeler semi pull off of Monument Pike and into the furthest out portion of the motel parking lot.

Brian had peered out the window with caution -- he'd been so careful as to even wear a baseball cap when he and his wife had walking to the room. The shadow worked in tandem with the darkness of night to conceal his face.

Now, Travonte sat on a rolling office-chair, facing the built-into-the-wall table between the TV and the bathroom vanity, carefully crafting a perfectly-smokable blunt as the 33-year old always did. A blue hairband held his dreadlocks back into a ponytail.

The dress Amber Bailey had chosen to wear to The Smokey Blue Steakhouse fit her body so well, really showed how the twenty or so pounds she had put on in the last few years truly had fallen into the right places. In fact, Brian's eyes had landed on his wife's bouncy chest as she had extended her arms in a welcoming embrace with Travonte, who at 6ft3 towered over both himself and his wife, 5ft9 and 5ft4, respectively. She now sat on the bed across from Travonte, chatting. Brian could tell by her tone -- she was anxious, and nervous.

And horny.

Brian himself had nearly run three stop signs on the way from the steakhouse. And Amber never said one word. The pep in her step from the car to the motel room couldn't not be noticed.

"He's here, he's here?" she had excitedly asked when Brian announced his truck pulled into the parking lot. Watching his wife of eighteen years rush across the motel room to peer out the window was comical, yet endearing.

"What's funny, Brian?" Amber asked, having heard her husband's chuckle while he poured the wine.

"You, Amber," Brian said, smiling. He finished filling the third glass. He grabbed two and walked over to the bed, handing one to his wife then placing the other on the table next to Travonte.

"What do you mean you Amber?" Amber laughed then turned to Travonte. "He's always saying that. You should hear him at home."

Travonte laughed as he was running the tip of his tongue the rim of the unrolled cigar he had just filled with marijuana. He started rolling.

Brian went to grab his glass of wine. "I just heard you, Amber. Travonte was talking about his driving and all the miles. And you said you hate long road trips."

"Well, I do." Amber looked confused. "What's funny about that?"

Brian took a sip of the wine. He sucked in his cheeks, the tang hitting his taste buds. "You got no problem driving far if it's for shopping. Remember five years ago, for your birthday? You said you didn't wanna go anywhere with a bunch of traffic. But then what did we wind up doing? Uh huh... And why?"

Amber looked away bashfully. She lifted up her glass of wine then playfully, with bulging eyes, looked over her shoulder, at her husband as she sipped. She too sucked in her cheeks, shivered from the tang. "Oh don't bring that up, Brian."

Travonte chimed in with a laugh, just finished rolling the blunt. The lean-but-muscular black man turned himself around, now facing the bed, facing Mrs. Bailey. Brian had been just about to speak when he noticed Amber's eyes went from playful to a serious lust. Eighteen years of marriage, so many memories. Yet these sorts of moments, in particular, were those Brian frequently revisited.

Just last week in the restroom at City Hall, a text popped up from Amber asking him to make sure he had the right day, time for Travonte. Her concern, her worry. Brian had quickly backed away from the urinal and dashed into a stall, pushing the stall door closed just as the restroom door opened. His cock throbbed and he had to give it a minute to go down.

"I want to hear what," Travonte said. "What wound up happening, Amber?"

Amber waved her hand dismissively. "Oh nothing, things just didn't go as planned."

"They didn't?" Travonte asked. He undid his ponytail, dropping the blue hairband onto the table. His dreadlocks dangled on the sides of his face. "What happened?"

Amber again rolled her eyes. "Do you we really have to talk about it?"

Brian and Travonte chuckled at the same time. Amber had been taking a second sip of the wine and was pleasantly surprised by Travonte reaching for her thigh. "It's okay. Funny you bring up plans, really."

"It is?" Amber asked just after forcing down another gulp of wine. "Why is that?"

Travonte boldly extended his right arm, rubbed his thumb against Amber's right nipple through the dress. Travonte had complimented her on the dress when he first walked into the room. Since he started rolling the blunt, Amber's nipples had become so erect.

The room suddenly felt hotter to Brian as he watched Travonte fondle his wife. Badly he wanted to sit on the bed next to his wife and wrap an arm around her. Maybe hold her hand, maybe gently kiss her neck. Paralyzing eroticism kept the Councilman standing still, watching from the middle of the motel room floor.

"Tell me what happened, Amber," Travonte insisted. "Then I need to show you somethin, kinda about somethin that happened."

Amber's mouth hung open. Her legs quivered then she giggled, opening her eyes again and looking at Travonte. She smiled, playfully pushing Travonte's tattooed arm away. "I can't tell it if you're doing that."

Again, Brian and Travonte laughed at the same time. Brian felt his cock throbbing.

"My bad, my bad," Travonte said, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Okay." Amber looked toward her husband with narrowed eyes, holding back a smirk, before turning back to Travonte to explain. "Some years back, like he said... We were up near Chicago for something." She cleared her throat. "And, well, I was ready to head back to Monroe but then I was looking on Google Maps and, uh, saw that we really weren't that far. Or that's how it seemed."

Travonte held the freshly-rolled blunt over his lighter flame to dry his spit.

"Well, it took a little longer than we thought," Amber said. "Sort of."

"Ha!" Brian blurted out. "Took us an hour and a half to even get downtown to that freakin Magnificent Mile or whatever. Took for-fucking-ever to find parking. Then she talked about not going to spend too long down there. Won't even get started on that."

Travonte turned from the loving husband, toward Amber, toward the wife he had enjoyed the pleasure of spending intimate time with when his route brought him through Monroe.

A good woman, virtuous. Shy in the beginning, but had certainly opened up with each visit. Travonte looked over the blunt, decided it was time to light it, then did so. He took a quick drag, watching the tip glow orange, then held it out toward Amber as smoke billowed up over his face.

Travonte shook his head to what he'd just heard then chuckled. "Let me guess... This turned into some long, all day affair type shit?"

"Well..." Reluctance simmered under Amber's words. She knew her husband was probably staring at her, not only for the story about the day-gone-wrong, but also to see if she would smoke. "Something like that you could see."

Brian giggled and scoffed, taking another gulp from his glass. "Something like that? It was exactly like that. Exactly." He rolled his eyes. "Longest day of my life."

"Sounds like she was enjoying herself," Travonte said.

He held the blunt out closer to Amber, insisting she take it. Amber refused at first, shaking her hand and waving her hand. Travonte pulled back then pushed the blunt toward her again, asking that she just take a few puffs. Amber caved in, smoked it a little, then passed it to her husband.

"I was." Amber said then laughed, coughed. She enjoyed pot on a semi-regular basis back in college. In recent years, however, consulting obligations at homeless nonprofits and being by her husband's side in local politics meant she needed to stay focused.

A happy, light-headed feeling rolled over her quickly. Amber's eyes lit up with excitement as she thought about the stores, getting back to their hotel and her going through the bags. "It was so much shopping, Travonte. I couldn't help myself. Time just got away from me."

Travonte laughed. "That doesn't surprise me about you, Amber."

"Oh really?"

"Yes." Travonte purposely looked into the woman's eyes. "I noticed that about you. When you're enjoying yourself, time gets away from you."

Brian had just taken a second inhale of Travonte's blunt. The first reminded him of how much he enjoyed a little pot every once in a while. Now, it was something he only got to indulge in when Travonte came through Monroe. This second inhale, however, must've been stronger. Brian choked and too started coughing. Smoke hovered eye-level as his cock throbbed in his brown dress pants.

Amber locked eyes with Travonte in return, anxious but nervous. "Oh... you noticed that about me?"

Travonte nodded. In the corner of his eye, he could see Brian holding the blunt out toward him. He reached for it, held it to his lips, inhaled. Again, smoke billowed up over his face then out into the air above his pulled-back dreadlocks. "I do. It's so obvious."

Amber nodded. The room started feeling hot, she wiped her forehead with her forearm. A giddy giggle was followed by another sip from her wine glass -- a sip that actually wound up being a gulp.

"So now you, Travonte." Amber lowered her glass, held it in her lap. "You said you were going to show me something about something that happened... Or tell me something about showing something that happened... Or..." Amber looked off for a moment then giggled, realizing she wasn't making sense. "I mean." She pressed the tips of her fingers into her forehead, closing her eyes in thought.

Brian chuckled as he was pulling out one of the chairs accompanying the small table by the window. He eased himself into the chair, in thought.

So relaxed, she's nervous but excited-as-fuck. Look at her. Wants to smile ear-to-ear, but trying to control herself. What happened that he would want to show her, though?

Travonte laughed. He took another hit of the blunt the held it out. "Take another hit of this, Amber. Last one, I promise. And I'll tell you."

"Hmm, hmm," Amber said, squinting her eyes as she accepted the blunt. She inhaled, held the smoke in for a few long, purposeful seconds then let it out through her nose. She then passed the blunt on to her husband.

"So here's what happened," Travonte began. "Remember couple weeks ago I was try'na send y'all that message."

Amber looked away in thought for a moment, Brian chimed in. "Yeah, dude. Some media file you were trying to send. Remember Amber? We could see the pic but when we clicked on it, nothing."

Amber took another moment to jog her memory. It all then became clearer. "Yeah... I remember. I didn't see it come through again."

"It wouldn't work." Travonte did an exaggerated shoulder shrug followed by a playful sad face he knew women simply found adorable. "On my end, it kept saying the file was too big or some shit. Reattach."

"Oh wow," Amber said. "So what was it, Travonte?"

Travonte took a big gulp from his wine class, his first. Unlike Brian, the tanginess wasn't enough to make him pucker or to make his eyes water. But he did close his eyes for a moment, opening them and looking at this beautiful, married, white BBW-lite, as he and his buddies joked.

"Just a lot of the nature I been drivin through since I been contracting for this new company," he said.

"Yeah?" Amber asked. She glanced toward her husband for a brief moment, finding he too looked on anxiously. "I bet it is nice."

"Yeah... Upstate New York. Luckily, I ain't had to drive up there in the snow yet. Just in the spring and summer. Matta fact, I'm comin from out that way right now. Beautiful up there."

"Oh, I know dude," Brian interjected. "Me and some relatives went up to Ithaca once."

"Yeah, well, what I really like up that way is the views. And nah, I don't mean the fall colors and all that shit. I mean, that shit coo and all. But what I really like is when you find these openings they got up there... I don't know what you call'em, but they be like lookouts where you can see out from damn-near the top of the hill or mountain or whatever... You can just look out and sometimes even see a town off in the distance. Random little houses... cabin-lookin shit." He chuckled, shaking his head. He then reached for his phone.

"Sounds beautiful," Amber said.

Look at you Amber, Brian thought as he divided his attention between Travonte's words and his wife's fidgety, tipsiness. Been a little uptight for a couple weeks, needs some of that black cock deep in you. He took another sip of his wine, never thinking to look down at the wet-spot growing at the front of Brian's pants.

"Let me show you," Travonte. He pulled up a few pictures, held his phone toward Amber. Brian leaned over so he could see. Nature... Nothing he hadn't seen before. "But what I was try'na send you is one of the videos I made up there."

"Videos?" Amber asked.

"Yeah." Travonte nodded, putting on a bashful, shy face. "Well... see... I be parkin my truck at certain spots and get out... And maybe make a video."

Fuck, Brian thought. His cock twitched as he wondered what sorts of videos.

"Video of what?" Amber said, leaning forward and smiling.

Travonte started to go into his VIDEOS folder on his phone, but stopped. "You know what? I'll just show you. If you promise you won't laugh."

Amber looked over to her husband with questioning eyes. Both wondered what in the hell they were about to see.

Travonte scooted himself back in the wheeled chair then rose to his feet. With ease, and to the familiar married couple's surprise, he lifted his white v-neck I LOVE MIAMI t-shirt over his head, tossed it aside. He then grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and pushed them and his underwear down to his knees. Leaning back upright, his flaccid penis draped over the front of his balls, the head dangling well below the underside of his sack.

The heaviness swayed between Travonte's thighs -- a sight Brian remembered nearly took his wife's breath away the first time they'd seen Travonte get undressed. In fact, countless times since then, Brian couldn't help but replay in his mind the way Amber talked about how it was so "big and floppy" when they were heading back to Monroe after the first night with Travonte.

Thoughtlessly and purely reacting organically, Amber had even gone as far as comparing Travonte's soft black cock to a male dancer she and her friends had seen at strip club back in college.

Travonte tried pressing his lips together to keep from smiling, from feeling so damn silly. But it didn't work. A partial laugh got out then he got himself together, looked ahead so he could focus, just like he did overlooking the hills in Upstate New York.

He started gyrating his hips, causing his dangling soft manhood to sway side to side. Travonte then sped up, putting a little more oomph into gyrating his hips, twisting them.

Soon his floppy cock swung side to side, the head slapping back and forth against his upper thighs. Over and over; right thigh, left thigh, right, left, right, left, right, left.

"Oh my god, Travonte!" Amber exclaimed, her face glowing with pure glee. Amber lifted her free hand -- her left hand -- up to cover her mouth, in shock. At first, she had wanted to laugh because she simply couldn't believe what she was seeing, only a foot from her very eyes. And Travonte made it swing back and forth so damn easily.

Brian had been taking another gulp of his wine when Travonte starting putting on the show for his wife. "Fuck," he barely-whispered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. Brian looked at how Amber simply couldn't pull her eyes away. If Brian had said something, she probably wouldn't have noticed.

Travonte had never done something like this in front of them. Brian hadn't seen his wife's face this lit-up since their wedding day, since that moment after he kissed the bride and they turned toward watchful eyes and flashing cameras. His own little cock throbbed -- some lightheaded-ness from the pot put him in a good mood, his forehead glistened now.

She is fucking loving this, he thought then watched her legs kick with excitement.

No longer had Travonte been able to keep himself from smiling; the look on Mrs. Bailey's face was priceless. Anxious -- needing to do something! -- Brian Bailey hopped up from his chair and stepped over to the bed, sat down at his wife's side.

Travonte's swinging, floppy black cock began swelling up -- elongating, widening. Soon enough, an a now-erect shaft slammed against his thighs, a repetitive smacking noise.

Travonte stopped then stepped back, turning away. "Okay, okay. Stupid shit, I know."

Amber laughed out loud. Without thinking, she reached for Travonte's hard cock and gripped the shaft. She pulled him closer, tilting her head up and looking into his face with affection and even adoration.

Amber rose off the bed, set her glass of wine down next to the weed, and fondled Travonte's warm shaft while the two kissed passionately. It was as if her husband weren't even sitting there.

Moments later, Brian watched his wife lower herself onto her knees in front of Travonte. She did so gracefully and happily and eagerly. Amber held his cock with her left hand. Brian eyes followed her little fingers closing around the girth, the tips not touching.

And the 1-carat wedding ring Brian had slid onto his bride's finger eighteen years ago pressed into the shiny dark skin on Travonte's nine veiny inches.

Councilman Bailey lifted the blunt to his lips, took another hit. His own lips couldn't keep from curling into an accomplished smile.

Brian watched his wife open her mouth and start sucking on the purplish head of Travonte's long black cock. He'd been so focused on discerning his wife's faint, mumbled words to Travonte, muffled by her mouth filling up -- "So big"... "Yeah... I missed it yeah..." He didn't hear the tires scraping against gravel and the sound of car doors slamming shut.

* * *

"Thank you for calling Pike Motel North Monroe, how may I help you tonight?"

The uneasy feeling Mark Conner had been feeling since he clocked in at 10 o'clock to work his overnight shift hadn't gotten any better. In fact, it had even gotten worse. The 21-year old Monroe Community College student thought about the "visitors" yesterday, the two armed men who showed up to have what one called a "special conversation" with the overnight desk attendant.

Of course the fucking phone would ring right at 11 o'clock... right when they said they'd be showing up, Mark fretted.

Mark's nervous eyes saw two cars turn into the parking lot. Both vehicles were black with tinted windows. One pulled into a spot in front of the office while the other idled out in the lot.

The woman on the phone, the definition of a talker, shot off multiple questions. Mark tried his best to keep up, but he became more nervous with each passing moment. The car doors open and two men dressed in black headed toward the door.

"Yes, Mam, yes... I see the reservation. I can change it, no problem... To what day do you have in mind?"

The lady rambled on. Mark forced a welcoming smile and nod as the guys came walking into the lobby. He remembered their eyes, the money they pulled out during the "special conversation."

And Mark needed this job. Mom and Dad couldn't pay for school and he had one year left. Dad wouldn't believe this sort of story, believe that a couple of guys forced him to let them into a specific guest's room.

"Come on, dude, no time for bullshit," one of the men snapped.

He looked out the window in both directions, impatiently waiting for the desk clerk to get off the phone. The other guy stood just outside of the door, as if to keep anyone else from entering.

Mark's heart thumped. Those eyes and the menacing face, he remembered them. Mark hurried his typing.

"Yes, Mam, thank you. I've made the changes. Thank you for calling Pike Motel North Monroe."

Mark ignored the woman's still talking as he slammed the phone down.

The guy turned from the window rushed over to the counter. "You here alone, right?"

"Uh... Yeah, yeah... I'm the only one here."

Having grown up in a trailer park in Southeast Monroe, Mark was used to dealing with the rough types. But this was different. This seems like some mafia-type shit, he thought. Mark had barely gotten any sleep last night, wondering who these dudes are, as well as Amber Daugherty woman they came for.

"Good," the guy said. "Is she here? Come on. Stop fuckin around white boy! No time for shits and giggles!"

Mark moved the mouse around quickly, looking into the computer screen. He feared these dudes renigging on the deal. What fucking leverage did he have?

Click, click, scroll down. "Yeah... Uh yeah, she's there."

The guy peered into the desk clerk's eyes with a stone look. "You sure she is here?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure," Mark said, nodding. He looked into his screen again, squinting. "Shows they entered at ten thirty-two. Door ain't opened since, so they gotta still be there. I swear, dude."

For once the guy smiled, but an evil chuckle followed. But Mark's eyes lowered to the swaying mass in his black p-coat pocket, the gun. The money, where was it? It had been part of the deal -- an unspecified amount, though.

"Good deal," the guy said. He slammed his hand on the counter a couple of times and smiled. "Key card?"

"Oh, yeah." Mark quickly shuffled through the key cards drawer, checked to make sure the card was activated for Room 218, and handed it over the counter. "Here you go."

"We'll go pay her a visit," the guy said. "Be right back for the other half of the deal."

"Okay," Mark said. What else could he say?

Mark watched the guy leave, the other by his side as they headed back to the car. The idling black car that had been waiting followed as they pulled off.

* * *

"Niggas poppin off with all that shit, won't do nothin to me, fuckin woozy. Pull up'ta tha spot, find me in tha crib, askin what's that noise? Nigga gettin some pussy."

Travonte had hooked his phone to his Bluetooth speaker, put on a random playlist. Weed smoke billowed over the front of his face yet again, rising up into the motel room air and lending to the thick cloud lingering in the room.

He took another gulp of wine then shook his head, moaning again, then looked down as he sat over the side of the bed, leaning back on his elbows. Amber comfortably rested on her knees, now naked, gripping his shaft with both hands.

She jerked it as she sucked, her head bopped up and down. Her husband Brian had gotten undressed as well. The naked Councilman too had lowered himself to his knees, to be at his wife's side while she joyfully played with and tasted this black man's genitals.

When Amber pulled her mouth off of Travonte's cock -- to catch her breath, to wipe her sweaty forehead, to jerk it as if she were milking him --, Brian pressed his lips into his wife's and enjoyed a passionate kiss while she panted. When she pulled her lips away from her husband's embrace, she quickly took Travonte's bulbous cock head back into her mouth as if she already missed it dearly.

In the immediate moments following those wonderful kisses with his wife, what Brian had come to know as the musky scent of a black man's crotch lingered in his mustache. Brian watched, and he smiled.

No desire to jerk himself, hadn't even thought of it. Amber looked so beautiful, so youthful in a blissful high as she sucked and slobbed on Travonte's big black cock. She moaned, the warmth of her husbands warm hands caressing and fondling her breasts. Gently rubbing her rosy pink nipples was a welcomed surprised.

"Suck on that BBC," Travonte mumbled, closing his eyes. "Hmm..."

Travonte took another hit of the blunt, set it in the ash tray, then lay back onto his back on the bed, his legs over the side. Mrs. Bailey kept a hand wrapped around the base of his dick and held it upright as her head rose up and down.

Councilman Bailey's chap stick tube-length erection throbbed, pointed straight out from his untamed pubic hair in the shadow of his pudgy stomach. Irrelevant.

"Okay, okay." Amber stood up, hopped onto the bed, and quickly planted her knees into the bed on either side of Travonte's waist.

Brian grimaced under his breath; he would've preferred another kiss with his wife before she got up. His wife's hair swooped across her shoulders and upper back while she straddled Travonte, giggling, before leaning over to kiss him.

She's ready for that big ole black cock up in her, Brian thought as he wiped his glistening forehead. He himself had started to lift up off the floor, but he changed his mind. Rather, he scooted on his knees around to the side of the bed, his back to the room's door..

Brian reached for the ashtray, grabbed the blunt, took another hit as Travonte's hands caressed and groped Amber's hips and ass. Her bouncy breasts looked so heavy dangling over Travonte's pecs while they kissed. The raunchy music continued on, and Brian hadn't heard one word of the lyrics in quite a while.

When Amber finally pulled her lips away from Travonte's, she looked into his face with the same lust she had done so on previous occasions. And Brian loved seeing it. He then watched his wife lift herself up -- now squatting -- and hold Travonte's dong upright.

Brian's view was simply amazing; his gaze trapped, never wavering from looking at his wife squat over something so long and so impactful. Travonte gripped Amber's waist. The two looked into the other's eyes while working in tandem to slowly lower Amber's parched pussy down onto his big black cock.

Brian used his forearm to wipe his glistening forehead. He had finished his glass of wine several minutes ago. His feet jerked, shook, a nervous habit.

If the music wasn't playing, he was sure he would be able to hear a wet suction sound from his wife's pussy sliding down, gripping Travonte's shaft. One of Brian's favorite sounds. Often, he plugged in his headphones to hear this very sound when he would close his office door down at City Hall and watch porn.

"Oh my God.... Oh my God." Amber gasped, her mouth hung open. Travonte's firm grip at her waist helped ease her the rest of the way down. Pushed through the stretching, embraced the fullness. Amber's head crooked back, her face now toward the ceiling.

Travonte gyrated his hips up and down against the king-sized bed. He grinned, his chest pumped, nostrils flared. This horny wife's husband faded into the darkness of the rest of the room to him, now was simply a dark figure to the side of the bed. Travonte grunted and took sincere pleasure in pushing his big ole dick balls-deep into this white man's wife in front of him.

"Shit!" Travonte grunted. "Pussy tight as fuck." He shook his head, but kept his gaze on Amber's face. "Whew."

Amber giggled with her hands planted in Travonte's chest. Her insides were so stretched, she felt as if a missing void in her insides was being filled. She moved her own hips now, circular-like.

The freedom to move around on this long-ness was something Amber enjoyed and something she oh so missed. She could rise up without fear of rising too high and slipping off like she did with her husband.

Brian watched his wife lean over and embrace Travonte with a quick but passionate kiss. Then the bucking began, Travonte tightening his grip around her waist as he took control, moving the wife in circular motions as if she were light as a feather. He smiled and reveled in the married white woman's moans, in the confirmation her needs were being met and that a problem was being solved.

Then the rising up and down on Travonte's long black shaft began. Amber loved it; Brian loved watching -- admired, really -- how Travonte lifted his wife up and down so effortlessly.

Brian, still naked and on his knees at the side of the bed, groaned. His tiny penis throbbed painfully. Every time he watched the love of his life being thrilled by Travonte's nine inches, Brian always thought back to how nervous she'd been the first time even though she had been the one to bring up her secret desires a night they both had a little too much to drink.

And now his wife Amber was riding this big black cock in front of him as if she were competing for the Kentucky Derby.

She did it happily.

The music masked the beep sound of the card reader outside the motel room door.

In a split-second swoop, the motel room door knob had turned and the door was quickly being pushed open. The door's backside slammed against the wall, light from the parking lot light poles reached into the room, across the carpet and over the bed. Chilly night air rushed in with the light. Two men, their faces blurred by the parking lot lights behind them, stepped into the room. Guns drawn.

Lost in a bullish bliss, Travonte had seen the intruders first. Their bursting in the motel room door pulled his eyes away from Amber's perky, rock-hard pink nipples.

"Oh shit!" Travonte snapped.

Flee, retreat, those instincts kicked in. His eyes bugged, quickly he pulled his hands away from Amber's waist and lifted his legs up. Amber shrieked as she covered her breasts, jumping up off and grabbing the sheet to cover herself.

At the very moment Travonte's eyes bulged, Brian had looked over his shoulder "What the fuck! Whoa, whoa, whoa! Who the fuck are you?"

The night air quipping into the room carried in a trembling fear and confusion. Brian quickly rose to his feet and did what any loving husband would do. He stood with his back to the bed, putting himself between his wife and the danger that had just stormed into the room.

Brian grabbed the white bed sheet, intending to cover himself. But when he pulled it toward his own body, it was suddenly snatched from the tips of his fingers. At the very same moment, Travonte had grabbed the other side of the sheet and yanked it off the bed to cover himself and Mrs. Bailey. Brian turned back to the intruders, quickly covering his crotch with his hand while his squinting eyes looked into the armed silhouettes.

Amber screamed again then began sobbing as she held the bed sheet up over her body. Her heart thumped; she just knew these invaders could start shooting at any moment. Travonte stood at her side and they both held their hands best they could in surrendering postures while holding up the sheet.

"Who the hell are you?" Brian demanded to know.

He couldn't show these thugs fear, whoever they were. But he wanted to be sure to not piss them off. "How did you get into the room? What do you want? We don't have anything to take." Brian kept his right hand over his crotch. To watch his wife enjoy a big black cock was one of his few sources of happiness in the stressful world of Monroe politics. But this -- two guys with guns storming into the motel room while he watched naked -- was a nightmare he had never once considered.

"Please don't kill us!" Amber sobbed, shaking her head. "Please, please.. Please!"

"Shut up with that all that screaming!" one guy barked.

"Okay, okay, okay," Amber sobbed. "Just please don't kill us."

"Who are you?" Brian demanded once again. "You can take whatever."

The man who'd been in the front stepped forward, into the room, now only a few feet from Brian. A darker guy, who wore thick-rimmed glasses, came from behind with his gun still drawn and said, "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

The first guy -- the lighter-skinned one -- turned and looked to his accomplice. The look on his face said it all. Do you see what the hell is going on in here?

And both men did in fact see such. Both looked the cowering, naked Councilman up and down. Weed lingered in the air; off to the side, a wine glass lay on the floor, knocked over in the panic.

The darker man started giggling. "You see this shit, bru?"

The lighter man's head shook. "Oh yea.... I see it. Boss gon find this real... real interesting." He chuckled then snickered. "We ain't think we was gon walk in on no shit like this."

Amber and Travonte glanced at one another. The rap music still played, but they couldn't pay attention to any words.

Brian squinted, taking in the details of the guys' faces. They looked familiar. Who is "Boss"?

"Get the fuck back!" the lighter one snapped at Brian. He didn't wait on Brian to move; rather, he pushed him back with his elbow, pushing Brian into the end table.

But Brian caught himself with his free hand, and kept his genitals covered with the other.

The darker one stepped further into the room, took a good look at Amber then Travonte then around the room, at the cigar insides, the wine bottle, the bag of weed. He then turned back to the husband, to Brian, to the Councilman Bailey he'd seen on the news doing so many good things for his district.

"You ain't lyin," the darker man said, bulging his eyes. "I'll let Boss know the Councilman is ready for him."

"Who are they, Brian?" Amber whispered. "Who are they?"

"I don't know, Amber, I don't know," Brian answered.

He trembled with fear, wondering who "Boss" is and wanting so badly to believe this was one fucked-up nightmare, that maybe he had fallen asleep on the floor after Amber finished jumping and screaming and orgasming on Travonte's cock. Colder air engulfing the room slammed against Brian's naked body, bringing a humbling sense of reality.

The darker man stepped out of the room, disappearing to the side, while the lighter one paced side to side, glancing up at the three occupants of the room caught in quite an interested predicament. "What did I tell you? Shut up!" He kept his gun out, looked over his shoulder often. "Turn this music down."

Travonte stepped over to the front of the bed, extending his arm to reach for his phone on the table. Quickly, he turned the music down then returned to Mrs. Bailey's side.

Several seconds passed then Brian heard what sounded like two pairs of footsteps coming down the balcony walkway, toward the door. The dark man reappeared just outside the door first then stepped aside. Another man came into view, taller with a bulky build. His walk showed he wasn't a man of urgency, as if he were calling shots and dare anyone to rush him.

The parking lot light blinded Brian from seeing the man's face at first. Soon enough, however, the face came into view clearly. Paralyzing fear made it hard to even blink. The face was a face Brian recognized and knew very well. Tariq Jenkins.

"Tariq?" Brian said, feeling the edge of the wooden nightstand press against the back of his legs.

The 6ft4 man stepped into the motel room. His two goons obediently moved aside. One looked on with a gotcha look, looking at the Brian Bailey; the other pressed his lips together as if suppressing a laugh. Within seconds, Tariq's eyes bulged.

"Oh shit!" the 50-year old surveyed what was before him.

"Told you you was gon be surprised, Boss," the darker goon commented.

Tariq chuckled, shaking his head. "I see, I see." He took in how the Councilman's wife whimpered fearfully, clearly naked under the white bed sheet. The woman before him was far from the composed, lady-like demeanor at fundraisers and social events.

"I damn-sure ain't think I was gon walk up in here and see some shit like this!" Tariq blurted out. "Damn!"

"Tariq?" Brian asked, loudly. He kept his hand pressed firmly over his crotch. "What the fuck is going on, dude? What the fuck is this?"

"Please don't kill us!" Amber whimpered, sobbed. "Please."

Tariq looked at Mrs. Bailey, chuckled and shook his head, then looked back to the councilman. "I called you earlier, Councilman. Actually... I called you several times earlier today... And yesterday. Last night, matta-fact."

Brian struggled to think. "Dude, sorry." He lowered his tone. "Sorry I didn't call you back. I... I... Shit got busy. But not calling you back, Tariq... That doesn't exactly warrant you bursting into my motel room this this! How did you even find me here? What-"

"Shut up!" Tariq commanded. "It's a shame a nigga had to do some hit like this, Councilman."

He stepped a few feet forward, looking over at the weed and cigar guts on the table, the half-drank glasses of wine spread about the room.

"Hate I had to interrupt such a nice night. Watching the wife enjoy some b-b-c."

Both of Tariq's goons chuckled under their breath, but they abruptly stopped.

Tariq stepped back over to the other side of the bed, facing the councilman. He looked him up and down. "I don't like when people ignore my calls, Councilman. Don't like shit like that."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Brian pleaded, avoiding eye contact. Amber sniffled, managing to suppress her fearful whimpering.

"Shut up!" Tariq snapped again.

"Okay, okay," Brian whispered.

"I don't like when people ignore my calls, councilman. And I don't like havin to track someone down. You know why I'm callin you, councilman." Tariq looked the naked well-known white man up and down. "Move your hand, Councilman."

Brian's eyes bulged, so much so one might've thought they were about to bounce out of their sockets and onto the floor. His face reddened as he looked side to side, glancing at the goons who looked on with eager eyes.

"Huh? Dude... dude. Please... You don't have to do this. We can talk about-"

Tariq stepped closer. "Shut up! Move your hand, Councilman. And stand the fuck up like a damn man!"

Brian looked down toward the floor, too fearful to dare part his lips and push back. Hesitantly, he pulled his right hand away from his groin and revealed his now-flaccid cock. With barely an inch of shaft, the dull little pink head protruded from his bushy pubic hair under his rotund belly. Perched atop his balls, it pointed out rather than down.

"Fuck!" Tariq grunted. His goons sucked air in through their teeth.

Tariq turned away, much like a man having a moment of silence for having witnessed something sorrowful. An anger simmered in Brian he had never felt.

When Tariq turned back toward Councilman Bailey, he glanced over at the naked Mrs. Bailey draped in a sheet next to their friend. Loose dreadlocks dangled over the sides of the guy's face while he used one end of the sheet to cover his lower body.

"Councilman, you know why I needed to talk to you. You know." Tariq squinted with disapproval. "The Valentine Park project, Councilman?"

"My brother didn't get the concrete contract like you said, councilman," Tariq continued. "Like we agreed, remember? Part of the conditions of the arrangement... the loan."

"What is he talking about, Brian?" Amber interjected.

"Shh!" Tariq snapped.

Brian new very well what Tariq would be calling him about, and he knew why he hadn't answer. The city council meeting hadn't gone as planned and the contract went to one of the other member's connections. His wife hadn't been privy to why Brian had been pushing so badly for Jenkins Construction to get that contract for the park's sidewalks and parking lot.

Brian couldn't tell Amber that he'd gone to Tariq Jenkins, a not-too-well-liked loan shark and owner of Jenkins Check Cashing. Behind the scenes, the man was known for working with local politicians who may have issues raising campaign funds.

"It's okay, Amber," Brian said to his wife. "I know what he's talking about."

"You didn't answer my calls, Councilman," Tariq said. "And you're behind... You're late on the payments we agreed on. Don't think that's good for a Councilman. And you know I do so much for my community. You know."

"I know, I know."

"And now I done found out my brother ain't gettin the contract, Councilman. You said you'd be sure he would get it."

"I know I said that, I know, Tariq. But I told you I couldn't make any promises. It's not just my decision. I have heavy influence, but-"

A growl escaped Tariq's throat as he bit his bottom lip, looking away. Pissed off. He chuckled then said, "Owe me money for helping him win his damn job and... and," he shook his head, "then I find him and his wife in a damn motel room out on Monument Pike... with some b-b-c. This shit crazy.... Damn!" He paused. "And all you had to do was answer my calls, Councilman. I'm a nice guy, ain't I?"

Brian swallowed. "Yeah... yeah. Tariq, we can talk about it. I told you some things came up, but I'm paying it back. I did what I can with the contract... I promise you I did, Tariq."

Tariq laughed then pointed over his shoulder, motioning for his two goons to leave the room. "Gimme a minute, y'all. I don't take kindly to this sort of disrespect... especially when I'm such a nice guy."

The two goons took one last look at the naked, tiny-penised Councilman then left the room. Tariq pushed the door shut then started undoing his belt buckle.

A fearful cry slipped from Amber's lips. She, Travonte, and her husband Brian watched the tall, about-business loan shark pull his the black leather belt out of his pants loops. Amber shook from watching him fold it and hold it down at his side.

"Dude, what the fuck!" Brian said. More veins popped out of his reddened face. Instinctively, he put his right hand back over his crotch -- a move he hadn't even thought about for two seconds. But he would pay very dearly for it.

Tariq laughed. "Shame it gotta be this way... Councilman Bailey... I'm too nice of a guy for you to do me dirty like that."

Brian trembled with a fear a man would never want his wife to witness as Tariq walked toward him. His taller figure soon blocked the ceiling light and cast a shadow out over Brian's naked body.

Amber screamed. "No! What are you doing?" she shouted.

"Stay over there, Amber!" Brian shouted. He realized he would have to put up a fight, the best he could considering the circumstances.

Brian used both hands to try to push Tariq back. Barely worked. Tariq stepped back a couple of steps and chuckled at the weak attempt at force. In a quick, seemingly effortless swoop, Tariq pushed Brian back toward the bed. He collided with the corner, bounced off, caught himself and stood up back up.

But then Tariq Jenkins had a hold of his right wrist, his bulky black fingers engulfing it completely. Brian yelled out in pain, he simply couldn't match Tariq's strength. Tariq then pulled him away from the bed and twisted his arm around.

"Stop all that cryin!" Tariq snapped.

Brian panted with anger. "Dude... Dude... Okay... We... We-"

Tariq yanked the fighting Councilman toward the center of the room, held his arm up, then began swinging the belt against the man's bare ass cheeks. A searing pain riveted up Brian's spine.

"Damn," Travonte said, without thinking.

"Dude, no... No. Please... You don't have to do this shit." The pleading mercy in Brian's voice made Tariq grin. Pitiful, but comical.

Brian's eyes shut and he grunted with each lash. He tried swinging with his left arm -- no point, a slow arm attached to a trapped, squirming man. He had nearly become dizzy when Tariq turned him around again. Now he faced his wife and Travonte while Tariq held one arm in the air. Brian would jolt forward, to the side, in any direction to avoid the belt. But Tariq's strength, his grip around Brian's wrist kept him tethered.

Amber Bailey's whimpering faded and she fell silent as she watched something a wife could not unsee, something a man's woman will never forget: an irreparable unraveling of his masculinity.

At least fifteen lashes, her husband's tiny soft cock jiggling uncontrollably from his pubes while his forehead glistened with sweat.

Brian held his face up, away from looking directly into his wife's or Travonte's face as he struggled to simply stand up. Brian sniffled; his barely parted lips showed grunting, grinding teeth. One rogue, revealing tear strolled down his right cheek. It glistened in the light.

When Tariq finally let go of Brian's arm, the man from Monroe's underworld heaved like a man who had just made several trips up several flights of steps. Smiling, he couldn't help but shake his head as he slid his belt back into the loops. The Councilman jolted forward, bouncing against the side of the bed then turning around. Both hands gripped his burning ass cheeks and his posture was slightly-bent over, humbled.

"Dude, fuck you! Fuck you!" Brian Bailey shouted. He now had both fists balled at this sides. But his dared not make a move, not his feet nor his arms.

Tariq's eyes bulged. He stepped over to the Councilman and leaned in to his face uncomfortably close. "Humble yourself or you'll get that ass whooped out in this motel parking lot tonight. You want that, Councilman? Huh? You want that?"

Brian quickly shook his head. "No, dude, no," he whispered.

The bass with which the Councilman spoke so eloquently and with so much strength a Monroe City Hall had evaporated.

Tariq chuckled. "Sorry to disturb your night, Councilman." He looked over at Mrs. Bailey and their naked black friend. He looked the guy in the eyes, nodded his head in a congratulatory salute.

When Tariq looked back to Brian Bailey, he looked the angry, naked man up and down. "I'll give you a call on Monday, Councilman. In the evening."

Tariq stepped over to the door, pulled it open. The parking lot light, unobstructed, reached into the room. Quickly, the Councilman put his right hand over his crotch then hopped to the side, out of the light and toward the end table so he couldn't be seen by anybody outside. That one hop was enough to make him wince from the stinging in his ass cheeks.

Tariq cleared his throat. "Councilman? Do you hear me?"

Brian hadn't even turned toward Amber and Travonte. He could only imagine what was going through her mind.

It took every bit of pride Brian imagined he still had to lift his face up and look into Tariq's eyes. His arms trembled; it was as if his hands wanted to ball up and start swinging.

But he knew the consequences would be far worse.

"Okay, I see how this is gon be." Tariq started undoing his belt buckle again. His goons' heads leaned over from the sides of the door frame. A breeze carried in lingering Black & Mild cigar smoke.

Brian held his free left hand up, waving it in surrender. "Yeah... Yeah, Tariq. I hear you, I hear you."

Tariq chuckled. He took a long, purposeful glance at Mrs. Bailey and their friend, still draped in the white bed sheet. Tariq chuckled and shook his head -- a shake of pity in many ways -- then he turned around and stepped out of the room. His goons followed him down the balcony pathway, toward the steps.

The motel room door hung open for those several seconds while Brian waited until the three men's footsteps faded. He then rushed to slam the door shut, latched it lock.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he screamed, his eyes bulging, his lips tight, his face fire-red. He kept his right hand over his crotch, the left at his side with a balled fist. "Don't fuckin believe he comes to our motel room and..."

Amber pulled the bed sheet further up, tucked under her armpits, then came around the bed. "Brian... Honey... Are you okay?"

"Don't, Amber, don't!" Brian couldn't keep his voice from sounding shaky, the sniffles wouldn't stop either. He looked down at the motel carpet, his eyes darting around aimlessly as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

"Brian... I just," Amber began.

"Amber... don't. Just let me..."

Brian's words faded. He paced around aimlessly, mumbling for a moment then enunciating, "Whoop my ass like I'm some bitch and..."

Incoherent, bitter babble followed. Then more sniffles, "Just give me a minute, Amber!" he yelled.

Amber backed up and watched her husband limp across the motel room, across the front of the bed, past Travonte, and into the bathroom.

"Brian, Brian," Amber pleaded, as she followed. She'd been only a couple feet away from the door when Brian slammed it shut. She grabbed the handle, trying to turn it. Locked. She started knocking. "Brian, are you okay?"

Travonte finally relaxed his arms, letting the bed sheet fall from covering his naked body. His own heart had been racing a mile a minute while he watched Brian endure something Travonte couldn't even imagine seeing happen in movies.

Travonte zipped around the bed and up to the window while Amber knocked on the bathroom door, begging her husband to talk. Two black cars with tinted windows idled out in the parking lot. His semi truck set further off.

A sorrow came over his soul he'd never felt before when he turned back toward the frantic, scared and confused Mrs. Bailey. This sorrow far exceeded the pity he had felt the first time the woman's husband had gotten naked at the side of the bed and revealed his diminutive manhood. And no, this wasn't the same kind of head-shaking pity Travonte had felt when Amber told him that she'd never had an orgasm from penetration before.

"Just go away for a minute, Amber!" Brian's voice was muffled, but the door couldn't mask the shakiness in his tone or the several echoing sniffles.

Amber had been so focused on trying to get her husband to open the bathroom door she hadn't even felt Travonte's nearing presence. She had just been about to knock again when Travonte gently grabbed her hand, making her turn. "Give'em a little bit, Amber," he suggested softly. "Just give'em a little bit."

Travonte pulled Amber away from the door, toward the bed. She sobbed softly, murmuring how she couldn't believe that man came into the room and did that to Brian. So badly she wanted to know what her husband was involved in.

Bringing the wife into a comforting embrace was needed. With his chin on top of her head, Travonte looked toward the shut bathroom door. Brian had turned the vent on, but the motor wasn't quite loud enough to mask his sniffles or his mumbling gripes.

* * *

Brian flung his balled fists into the air a few times, pacing in circles. He finally forced himself to stand up straight again, pushing past the stinging in his ass. A moment of gratitude came over him that the mirror was outside the door, with the vanity, and not in the bathroom with the toilet and tub. Flipping on the light, seeing himself in a mirror wouldn't have helped his ego.

How did Tariq Jenkins even fucking know we are at this motel? How did he get in the room? The front desk... This hotel... I'll get their fuckin licenses fucked with. Mathew Lowosky... I know the guy well. He'll fuck with this place no problem. Dude's a big asshole always looking to make a name for himself.

Brian groaned under his breath. He knew his wife's knocking at the bathroom door was sincere, but no way in hell could he face her right now. He sucked in his bottom lip in thought, still pacing around with a mild limp.

The humiliated husband planted his palms into the wall, leaned over, head hung forward while his head and his mind throbbed. Daylight in the morning simply wouldn't feel the same after a night like this.

"Oh my... Oh my God... Hmmmmm."

Brian's head jerked up, his eyes angled toward the bathroom door. Amber... What did she say?

Brian stepped over to the door. He leaned in to listen, prepared to pull the door open if Tariq had come back. He would have to put up the biggest fight of his life to protect his wife. Then Brian heard a deeper voice, a chuckle. It was Travonte. Kissing sounds followed, sounds between the two that he knew very well.

He leaned up, looking aimlessly around the bathroom as he realized what he was hearing.

A muffled giggle came through the door then Brian heard Amber moan, "It's so deep, Travonte... Whew!"

They're fucking, they're fucking, Brian thought frantically.

As he grabbed the doorknob, a distinct angst came over him. Brian had assumed he'd have to somehow pull himself together, leave this bathroom, and get Amber and get the hell out of this motel room. He didn't think Amber could bare to pick back up where they'd left off before that fucking Tariq Jenkins barged into the room.

But Brian stopped himself from opening the door. He turned out the bathroom light, turned off the fan, and leaned against the door. Amber moaned some more, Travonte chuckled again. After a light slap then a suppressed shrill from his wife, Brian heard steady, rhythmic clapping sounds. His sniffling had subsided, the stinging in his ass cheeks took the back burner in his mind. His nub of a soft penis quickly swelled up, now rock hard and bopping with any little movement he made.

Brian listened for another minute or so to the steady clapping sound then twisted the door handle as quietly as possible and pulled the door open. The TV had been turned on, on a low volume. Its glow illuminated the room.

Brian stepped onto the carpet and protruded his head around the corner. His eyes landed on Travonte's backside, the younger black man's ass muscles clenching and flexing as he held Amber's hair with his right hand and gripped her waist with his left. Doggy style, her head facing the opposite direction from the bathroom door, toward the window and door. Brian stepped out further into the room.

"Oh fuck... Travonte... hmm.... Feels so so looong, so deep." Amber smiled, shutting her eyes as she enjoyed the stretch, the depth, Travonte's force slamming her body. She hadn't noticed the bathroom door open, much less notice her husband limp out and walk closer to the bed.

Travonte maintained his grip on Amber's hair, held her waist just above her jiggling ass while he kept his long, thick black cock buried several inches deep inside this married white woman's pussy. Amber gripped the bed sheets, her breasts dangled and swayed as he pussy lips gripped Travonte's shaft as if they were doing so for survivial. Effortless strokes, he never slipped out. Sometimes Amber thought of it like sliding up and down on a shiny, slipper pipe.

A movie scene in a snowy, sunny farm field illuminated the room. Councilman Bailey's hard little cock throbbed as he crossed the front of the bed. Travonte's turned, looking, caught off guard by the husband's sudden presence. But Travonte carried on digging in this sopping wet white pussy, no eye contact with the woman's husband as the whooped man limped by with watery eyes.

Amber had just been thinking about that heavy, thumping of Travonte's balls against her pussy -- she loved that feeling! -- when she felt her husband's nearing presence. She'd been looking forward, with a sweaty face, and turned her eyes toward Brian while the rest of her body shook from Travonte's pounding in doggy-style. "Brian... Are you-?

Brian cut off his concerned wife's words. "Shh... It's okay, Amber." He leaned over and pressed his face into hers, into a passionate kiss.

When Brian pulled away from the embrace, he smiled faintly for only a moment. He glanced up over her head for a moment, at Travonte's pelvis slamming into her wobbling, rippling ass.

Brian placed his hand on the sides of his wife's moist face and once again leaned in for another kiss. Her body was so warn, and Brian loved feeling the vibrations from her moans as they kissed.

He couldn't believe after what just happened, his wife, knowing how fearful of a woman she was, could even have sex, much less still spend another minute in this motel room. Conflicting feelings screeched in his mind as his hard little cock spoke the loudest.

When Brian pulled away from his wife, she smiled ear-to-ear then groaned. "Fuck... This big... Bi--iig black cock." She shrilled, closing her eyes as if Travonte had just reached a special place in her soul where only he had a key.

Travonte noticed, grinned with confidence and ego, then started going harder.

Amber's eyes rolled back as Brian leaned up, stepped back. When his wife's eyes were open, she didn't gaze toward him like she did when they enjoyed Travonte's company on previous occasions. No. Rather, tonight, when Amber opened her eyes while Travonte hammered her balls-deep, she looked off in a random direction, in a daze.

Brian turned toward the motel room door. He stared at the open space between himself and the door, at the space where Tariq Jenkins had just held him by his arm, turned him around to face his wife and her black lover, and whooped him in a disciplinary manner.

"I'm... I'm..." Amber struggled to get the words out, panting as her eyes bulged. "Whew this big black cock... I'm about to cum."

Brian jerked his head back toward the bed.

"I'm nowhere close," Travonte commented. "This white pussy good... Always so tight." His tone was matter-of-fact, his back upright, his chest out confidently.

The councilman gripped his hard shaft with the tips of his thumb and index finger and began jerking. His wife would soon orgasm on Travonte's cock. She always said that his girth was what made the friction, it did it so easily. And Brian needed to see that, the one silver lining in a night like tonight.

Brian managed to eventually sit down again, slowly. His ass hurt like hell. He sniffled. Then even to his own surprise, his tight lips cracked a smile. He jerked off and on for the rest of the night as he watched his wife graciously accept and openly welcome every inch and thrust of Travonte's big black cock.

An invisibility came over him. At the back of his mind, Brian knew his world, and his marriage, after tonight, simply wouldn't be the same.