Locktober Pt. 14

A note before Locktober: This story involves adult chastity and interracial cuckolding. If that's not what you came for, this is not the month, or story, for you. Everyone here is an adult. Nothing that follows is a brief for real life. It is a story about a lock, a marriage, and what happens when comparison walks in.

************

(Saturday, Week 3-Days locked-20)

"And so, men, like the old saying goes, "Win one for The Gipper!"

Patrick paused as he looked around the locker room, first at the silent football team, then to his arm, raised exuberantly in the air.

The quiet in the normally raucous locker room was deafening.

Patrick lowered his arm, looking to the head coach for solace.

The young coach looked at Patrick, his eyes slightly confused, before finding his bravado.

"L-Let's go team! Let's beat the hell out of The Clams!"

The team seemed to shake off Patrick's awkward ending and worked themselves into a fever, rushing to follow the coach out the door. Their cries like warriors preparing for battle.

Patrick watched them file past him, feeling each confused glance his way. He'd spent the last five minutes waxing poetic, he did apologize, but it was wrapped in quotes and opining about the need to come together.

"She was right," he thought to himself, replaying his pained speech, wishing he'd taken Karen's advice and kept it simple.

He almost relaxed as the last player left to hit the field.

"Nice speech..."

Patrick wheeled around, suddenly uncomfortable in the spacious locker room.

"Devon," he croaked.

He watched the black behemoth approach him, his cleats clicking against the concrete.

Patrick had to look up to meet his gaze.

"You stayin' for the game," the black captain asked.

"No, no... I think I've done enough," Patrick said through a nervous chuckle.

Devon smiled at him, "I think you should..."

"I can't, my wife will..."

"I insist professor," Devon added, laying his huge, gloved hand on Patrick's bony shoulder.

"I... I suppose I could stay for a quarter or two," Patrick admitted.

"Nah, stay for the whole game," Devon said sternly, "Then come by the frat after, big party, somethin' I want you to see..."

Patrick's mind blared with concern. He couldn't fraternize with the students. It simply wasn't done.

"Devon... I..."

"Yo owe my Doc," Devon said, his eyes studying the smaller man, "Remember?"

Patrick flushed as his comment to Devon, calling him "boy," had agitated the huge black athlete. His mind told him to protest. But as he opened his mouth he considered the dean, the trouble he had just gotten out of, and what a word from Devon might do to his reputation.

Patrick inhaled deeply, pushing aside his better judgement, "Sure Devon, I'll stay for a little while."

Devon clapped his hands, jumping in the locker room, he seemed pleased.

"Cool bro," he said, "Now you get to watch me beat the hell out of these Clams!"

Patrick grumbled to himself, finally truly alone in the locker room.

He texted Karen, she would surely be waiting up for him. He hated leaving her alone, but he was in a trap of his own making now.

"Going to stay and watch the game, back late."

**********

"Hope that's okay?"

Karen read Patrick's message, frowning. She was lounging on the couch in her pajamas, her body still sore from everything that week.

"But who will I watch the marmot documentary with," she replied, adding a laughing emoji.

"LOL," he replied.

Karen smiled at the message, she reasoned it was the only quasi-youthful thing he knew to type, learned over years with her.

She was lost in thought as she flipped through channels, finding nothing that grabbed her attention.

Alone for the first time in what felt like forever she ran through the weeks, flashing like vignettes in her mind.

Patrick. He had been supportive at first, agreeing to wear the chastity cage to support her and finding amusement in the change in power dynamics during the month. He struggled quickly with the arrangement, his toils, physically and emotionally, an almost daily occurrence. She'd supported him as he flailed at work, watched him slowly change before her eyes. The man she respected, listened to seemed like a ghost. When she caught him using Rufus it had cracked something inside her.

Renee. She'd kept her distance from her amorous co-worker before the bet. But she had been drawn into her tawdry world, tempted by the control Renee had over her husband and her sexuality. Now her supposed friend might be turning on her to win the money.

Sonya. Her conversation with Patrick's ex-wife had been eye-opening, shattering her entire understanding of their history. Patrick had bristled at Sonya's growing independence and sexual desires. He'd lied about being the one who initiated their divorce.

Demetrius. She'd slept with her hulking black boss, succumbing to the temptation and her own sexual frustration. They'd had sex on his desk. Hot, relentless, mind blowing sex. Then, she had sucked his huge cock, right at his desk, almost uncaring at the ramifications, her infatuation growing. He was so strong, confident. He'd shown her pleasure she had never known.

And she wasn't sure if she wanted it to stop.

Her phone dinged on the arm of the couch as her body warmed at the memory of Demetrius bending her over his desk, having his way with her. She inhaled deeply as the memory spread.

"Free tonight," it read.

It was Demetrius.

She looked around the room, like she'd been caught as she focused on her phone.

She let the message sit for a full minute.

"I shouldn't," she told herself.

But her fingers took over.

"Just at home, not busy..."

"Slut," her mind answered as she sent the text. She frowned at the word.

"Come over," he responded simply.

She shook her head.

"I'm in my PJs, it's getting late," she replied.

"Please... please... please...," she said aloud in the quiet living room.

His response dinged and she found herself standing.

"Wear something sexy..."

She stared at the message as her feet moved across the Persian rug until her toes touched the hardwood, gliding to the bedroom.

She frowned at herself in the mirror, even as she took off her comfortable, pink sleep set.

"Tell him no," a voice in her head cautioned.

Her fingers were already leafing through her underwear drawer.

A smile crossed her face as she pulled out the skimpy, black lingerie she had worn for Patrick a few nights earlier when they first played with Rufus together.

She turned as she dressed, looking across the bed at the huge, life-like dildo on Patrick's night stand.

"This is all your fault, you know," she said, speaking to the inanimate sex toy.

She huffed as she fastened the lace garter and corralled her heavy tits in the tight-fitting bra.

She exhaled as she grabbed a light-brown overcoat, shrouding her sinful body as she moved through the apartment to her front door.

She paused, then typed.

"Address?"

Demetrius responded with a bright, yellow smiling emoji.

***********

Patrick rejoiced as the clock hit zeroes, ending the game. The team had won again. Devon had played exceptionally well, scoring three touchdowns. Patrick knew because each time the black running back had returned from the end zone he had tossed the ball to Patrick with a smile.

Patrick stared at the opposing sideline as the stadium emptied.

He watched his peers exit, heading to their cars, heading home.

He wished that was him.

His thought was interrupted by Travonte, the huge linebacker he had tried unsuccessfully to bar from this very game after his crude answer to one of Patrick's quiz questions, sauntering up to him.

"Yo Doc," the huge black man crowed.

"Travonte," Patrick replied, trying to sound senior and professional.

"Devon says come to the frat in an hour," Travonte chided.

"I... what am I supposed to..."

"You can come hang in the locker room if you want," the black athlete said with a wide, knowing smile.

Patrick shook his head feverishly.

"N-no, that's alright, I'll clean up out here..."

"Suit yourself whiteb... I mean Doc," Travonte laughed before turning to join his teammates in the bowels of the stadium.

Patrick's shoulders sank as he turned to view the disaster area that was the team's sideline.

Towels, crushed Gatorade cups and strewn equipment littered the area.

He could certainly busy himself for the next hour with the mess.

He sighed as the stadium lights went off overhead, shrouding him in darkness.

He pulled out his phone and texted Karen.

"You doing okay?"

*********

"Yep, just bored," Karen replied, feeling the sting of guilt in her gut, as she sat in the car, idling, in Demetrius's driveway.

She waited, almost hoping Patrick would respond. But the bubbles never appeared.

"You coming in?"

It was Demetrius.

Karen winced, still sore from the pummeling her boss had given her earlier that week, she looked back at the car for a moment before clicking the fob, locking it.

"Welcome," Demetrius said, holding open his door and allowing Karen to step cautiously inside.

For a moment Karen surveyed the strange surroundings. It was bigger than her apartment, it was home. A thumping, smooth R&B track played in the background as she settled her eyes back on her ebony suitor.

"Bigger than I expected," she mused.

Demetrius smiled, their eyes sharing a playfulness.

"Not bad for an ex-con huh," he said with a chuckle.

Karen nodded, "It's just, I mean I should have known, you're so put together at work. It's just... different from my house."

"I've come a long way," Demetrius said proudly.

"I can see that," Karen chirped, her hand holding tight to the fabric belt of her overcoat.

"Let me give you a tour," the black man said, holding out his long, muscled arm, allowing Karen to pass him into the inner sanctum of the home.

***********

Patrick could hear the deafening bass of rap music as he stood on the disheveled doorstep of the football team's frat house.

He cracked a weak smile as he remembered, years ago, advocating against the team housing together. The dean had thought otherwise and Patrick had let it pass.

He knocked, frowning as no one answered the door.

He resolved himself to turn around and head home, he had plausible deniability on his side now. He almost hopped to the bottom step as he could feel the safety of his car.

He froze as a line of foul lyrics burst loudly from the door.

"Doc, you made it!"

Patrick turned and felt his soul screaming as a doorful of black football players stood in the frame.

He froze.

"You coming in or what old man," one of the players crowed.

Patrick nodded, climbing the steps to stand at the precipice of the frat house.

"Come on in bro," one said.

Patrick's mind blared as his eyes fired around the room.

A keg, couches that looked like they had seen better days, the music so loud it rattled his ears that had grown accustomed to soft classical music.

It was all so bewildering.

"Devon's upstairs," a deep voice announced.

Patrick turned to find Travonte, with two white female co-eds under his arms, pointing his long finger at the staircase.

"Does he want me to..."

Travonte laughed, "You need a beer bro?"

Patrick shook his hands wildly at the offer, finding the opportunity to drink amongst his students a step too far.

"Suit yourself Doc," Travonte replied, turning with his armful of women and disappearing into the crowd.

Patrick paused at the foot of the stairs.

"Turn back," something said in his mind.

Then Devon's voice from earlier sprang forth, "Somethin' I want you to see..."

Patrick steeled himself as his foot touched the wet carpet on the stairs.

"Five minutes," he told himself, "Then home..."

He felt his stomach sink with each step as he ascended to the second level of the filthy frat house.

***********

"He's at the game now?"

Karen nodded, she was looking around Demetrius's expansive bedroom, minding her distance from the huge black man as he sat on his bed facing her.

Demetrius had given her the ten cent tour, guiding her around his place. His house was huge, she had counted four bedrooms. He had really done well for himself.

He had grinned as they arrived at his bedroom, looking down at her as she eyed him for a moment.

"Some tour guide," she had said playfully, as she passed under the tall man's arm, entering the bedroom, still clutching the belt of her overcoat. She got the drift.

"Yeah," Karen replied, still tense, as she looked at him, he was dressed down, his muscles strained at his t-shirt, eschewing the logo. Her eyes went lower, widening at the imprint of his huge cock in his grey sweatpants.

"He had to apologize to the team," Karen added.

"What for," Demetrius asked as he held out his hand to her.

She looked at it for a long moment, "It's personal," she replied.

"Cool," he said with a nod, "My cousin plays there. Wonder if they know each other?"

Karen was still eyeing his huge mitt, she huffed as she relinquished her death grip on her belt and took his hand.

"C-can we not talk about him?"

Demetrius smiled, his eyes locked on her, "Damn, straight to business huh?"

"I came, didn't I," she said coyly.

The black man nodded, running his eyes over her curves, hidden beneath the overcoat.

"Let's see what you've got for me..."

Karen felt his hands on her hips.

He paused to look up at her.

She was holding her breath, mouth open in anticipation as he pulled softly at the hem of the overcoat. She moved her shoulders, both of them helping to make the long coat fall to her feet.

"Nice," Demetrius said, his voice sure and pleased.

Her breasts filled the bra, spilling over the wire, fighting to hold her bounty in place.

She moaned as he ran his huge hands over them.

He moved down to her waist, running her race track curves to settle on her wide hips, his fingers on the garter that bit at her soft, womanly physique.

Demetrius looked at her, unhurried.

"Spin for me."

She nodded before turning.

The panties were a thong cut, her meaty ass exposed, the lace disappearing between her cheeks that shifted as she completed the circle.

For a moment, her green eyes were uncertain.

"You're quite a woman, Karen Littleton," he said, his tone deep and honest.

"I... I can't help it... my body..."

Demetrius ran his long finger to her lips.

"Is amazing," he said, looking at her.

"P-Patty says it's too much..."

Demetrius smiled as he tsked her softly.

"For him, maybe..."

Karen moaned as she felt the black man pull her onto his lap, she ran her arms over his shoulders.

"I... I want this," she moaned as she felt his lips on her neck.

In a flash they were on each other, falling to the soft bed, pawing at one another, their tongues meeting in the open air as they kissed deeply and feverishly.

"Then you're gonna get it," Demetrius said as she pounded on him and tore at his clothes.

*********

"D-Devon..."

Patrick craned his head inside the fifth room down the hall, his search for the black football captain so far fruitless.

"In here Doc," Devon's voice beckoned.

Patrick covered his eyes as he entered quietly. He paused, looking around. The place was messy, The room was bathed red, some LED device shining against the ceiling and walls, like a disco ball.

He blinked hard, disoriented, before his eyes fell on the bed.

Devon was strewn across it, shirtless, lounging against the headboard like a conquering hero. His chest and stomach were cut, the kind of definition that came from hours in the gym and on the field, his skin obsidian black. Patrick's eyes roamed to his groin, a pair of tight black boxers bulged as something large looked coiled beneath.

The black man's eyes watched him, beading, like he knew he'd come.

The older professor's mouth ran dry as he croaked, "I... what is this?"

"Glad you listened," Devon said, shifting softly at the sound of the toilet flushing in the half bathroom near them, "Did what you were told..."

"I'm here aren't I," Patrick replied uncomfortably, "I'm just confused as to..."

Devon's raised hand paused the out of sorts academic.

"Doc," Devon hummed with purpose, "I clocked you in the locker room. You remember?"

Patrick felt his legs wobble. He had been cleaning the locker room after the game. Devon and a few teammates had emerged, naked, their chiseled bodies and huge cocks mocking him. He'd even called Devon "sir" as he tried to escape the scene.

"Of course," Patrick stammered, "But I'm not sure what..."

"Doc, you're a cuck..."

Patrick wilted at the word, his foot taking an involuntary step back, his heel touching the closed door.

"I don't know what you're..."

"Stop bro," Devon crowed, enjoying the moment, "It's obvious. You're the type."

Patrick shook his head.

"Old dude, hot young wife, staring at my junk... come on dawg..."

Patrick moved his hand to the door knob, the sound of the bathroom door paused him.

"Oh cool, he's here..."

Patrick's eyes widened as he ran his eyes up the naked body of Marie, one of the girls from his class. She was so studious, her grades immaculate. Patrick's brain struggled at the sight as he shielded his eyes from her young, tight, naked body.

"It's cool Doc," Devon admonished, "We're all adults here..."

Patrick's fingers moved from his eyes as he watched Marie jump on the bed with Devon.

"Devon, I'm... I'm very uncomfortable with this," Patrick implored, "It's lewd..."

Devon nodded as he welcomed Marie under the crook of his muscled arm.

"Doc," Devon chided, "Doc, Doc, Doc..."

"What do you even want from me," Patrick blurted with a quickness. He knew he should leave, but something, the cage, his wife, Rufus... something held him in place, like he had to hear the answer.

"You called me boy, remember?"

Patrick's heart sank at the black athlete's recollection.

"Devon... that was a mistake... you know I didn't mean anything by it..."

Devon shook his head at Patrick's lament, "No, no," he said, "You did. And now you got to learn a lesson."

Patrick steeled for a moment, even as he felt the familiar push of his excited penis against his cage.

"Look, I'll pass you. You don't even need to come to class. We'll be even."

Devon looked at Marie, smiling as he spoke, "That's a good deal..."

Marie chimed in, "It is..."

"A good deal," Devon repeated, nodding.

"Okay then," Patrick replied, sensing his salvation.

"But," Devon replied, letting it hang for a moment, "You were gonna have to do that anyway..."

"That's true," Marie chirped smartly, running her hand over Devon's torso.

Devon nodded.

"You need a lesson, and I need to make sure you understand..."

Patrick gulped. His face fell as Devon's eyebrow raised.

"Or leave," he laughed, "Maybe I got it all wrong..."

Patrick felt his usually sharp mind dulling. The Locktober bet, the prolonged chastity, had subdued him. The porn had addled his brain. Rufus had closed the deal. He could leave, be home in time to catch the beginning of a documentary.

Karen.

His old life.

But something deeper burned in his mind, strong, flaming his sensibilities as he looked at the young pair on the bed.

He wanted to watch.

"W-what do I do," he asked, his voice soft and defeated.

Devon clapped as Marie smiled.

"Pull that chair closer, take a seat, and get ready for the show..."

Patrick felt his body flush as he eyed the closed door once more, his eyes moved to the ratty looking lounger in the corner. He stepped softly and pulled it to the edge of the bed.

"Good boy," Devon and Marie said in unison.

***********

"Glad you came over?"

Demetrius was laying atop Karen's back, their arms draped together at the top of the bed, hands clasped as he fucked her prone body.

She had orgasmed multiple times as Demetrius fucked in a cavalcade of positions she could have never tried with Patrick.

He fucked her on her side, his huge hand cupping her leg, the other squeezing her breasts.

She laid her feet on his thighs as she rode him reverse cowgirl, bouncing on his cock, not having to worry about his immense length slipping out.

He had picked her up, their faces touching, as he fucked her in mid air, Scewering her thick, womanly body on his rigid beast of a cock.

And now, he laid over her, enveloping her, her pale body barely visible beneath his ebony bulk.

"Y-yes," Karen said, her breath catching each time the huge black man would snap his hips, punching his huge cock inside her.

"You love it," Demetrius whispered into her ear as he nibbled on her lobe.

"I'm... I'm just so full with you..."

She felt his smile at the compliment, as his manly pumps grew erratic.

"Fuck... yeah..."

Karen lost her breath as she felt his wall of muscles bury her on the mattress. He was sleeving, his veined length pulsing against her inner walls.

"Where you want it baby," he groaned, his breath quickening.

"My ass," Karen howled, Come on my fucking ass!"

She felt air rush to her lungs as Demetrius lifted and fished his massive cock from her battered canal. She listened as he fisted himself above her, his free hand kneading her wobbling ass cheeks.

"Bout to fucking..."

Karen felt his essence as ropes of her sperm splashed on her upturned ass, striping her cheeks and running down into the cavern of her ass.

"Jesus D, what a load," she cooed, impressed.

"I'll grab you a towel, he said as he smacked his heavy cock against her wet butt cheeks.

"What a gentleman," she said to herself with a chuckle as she buried her face in his bed cover, waiting for him to return.

*********

"Think I'm a boy now, wimp?"

Patrick shook his head, his jaw hanging, as he watched Devon taking Marie doggystyle. He had his huge black hands on her pale hips, railing her. Her small breasts clapped together as Devon fucked are at an impossible pace.

"B-better answer him," Marie said, through powerful thrusts, their skin slapping rhythmically.

Patrick nodded, "He's... it's amazing..."

Patrick hated how true it was, his brain was wrestling with watching two of his students having sex in the smelly, dirty frat house.

How wrong it was.

How good it felt.

"Fucking whiteboys," Devon laughed as he slammed his huge cock inside Marie's smaller body.

"Ahhh," Patrick grimaced as he moved his hand to the zipper of his slacks. His cage was positively bursting. A mixture of horniness and shame bloating his constricted penis. The sight before him was one of his porns brought to life.

"Y-you okay there Doc," Devon crowed as he placed his hand on Marie's lower back, making her thin body recline to the bed, her ass still skyward. Devon lifted one leg and splayed it out, snapping his hips as he dug her out.

"Yes," Patrick hissed from the pain and pleasure, "Just... it's alot..."

"You can take it out," Marie said, her voice muffled and uncaring on the bed.

"It's fine Doc," Devon said, more of an order.

Patrick knew he shouldn't.

He shouldn't have come to the frat house.

He shouldn't have entered Devon's room.

He certainly shouldn't have agreed to watch two of his students have sex.

But his fractured mind begged for relief.

He bit his lip as he fought with his belt.`

"I swear to God these whiteboys," Devon laughed, "Oh shit!"

Patrick suddenly realized he had made a mistake as his ruby-red chastity cage was on display for the two co-eds to see. He grasped it at the base, shaking it.

"No fucking way," Marie croaked, lifting her head.

"I fucking knew it," Devon cried, triumphantly.

Patrick's face turned as red as his chastity cage at the derision.

Devon howled, still buried in Marie, eyes on the red cage in Patrick's fist.

"Bro can't even get hard in that thing."

Patrick's hand moved anyway. A helpless stroke along the plastic, the ache spiking.

Marie laughed into the sheet, more amused than unkind, "I can't fucking believe this."

"I told you bout' these white losers..."

The humiliations landed. His body answered before his mind. A thin, pressurized spit forced through the slats, watery, mean, striping his thigh.

He groaned, small, hating the sound.

It wasn't enough.

He stayed there, feeling the familiar cramp of unrealized pleasure, as his weak orgasm dripped from the cage.

"Whos the fucking boy now," Devon yelled as his pace broke.

"Fuck!"

He pulled out, fisted himself twice, and came across Marie's ass in heavy ropes, thick, white, more than Patrick had managed in the whole month.

Marie babbled sexual nothings beneath him, extolling his manly virtue.

Devon stayed on his knees for a second, admiring his work, then he looked at the chair.

"Doc, towel, and hurry up!"

Patrick stood, unsteady. They watched him. He went.

He shook his head at his obedience as he grabbed a towel, strewn on the unclean bathroom floor. He returned and held it out.

Devon took it without thanks, wiped himself, then Marie and tossed it back to the nearly naked professor.

Patrick cringed as he caught the soiled cloth.

"Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom. Ain't that what you teach?"

Devon smiled as he watched Patrick looking small and docile.

"Doctor Cuck," he added with a smile.

Patrick's mouth opened.

Nothing came.

"Is he still here?"

Marie had already moved, wrapping herself in the sweaty sheet, done with him.

Devon nodded at the door.

The lesson was over.

Patrick tucked himself away with shaking hands and left the room smaller than he had entered it.

The name stuck in his mind.

********

"Thanks for this," Karen said as she waited for Demetrius to put her overcoat over the lingerie that grasped her soft curves.

She jumped as he palmed a handful of her ass, kissing her neck.

"You could stay the night," he whispered.

"Gotta get home to Little Patty," she said through bated breath.

She felt the hulking black man move and help the overcoat over her shoulders.

"You gonna tell him," Demetrius asked.

"Kinda have to," she said, looking over her shoulder.

She had confided to him that she thought Renee was going to rat her out to her husband. She'd learned a lot from Renee, the office harlot had helped her unlock a power she never knew she had. But now that it was just the two of them, she also knew Renee would cut her knees out from under her to win the Locktober bet.

"Typical Renee," Demetrius had opined.

Her breath held as Demetrius moved beside her and opened his front door, the cool air washing over her.

"I don't really know how this is gonna go," she mumbled as she stepped out onto Demetrius's brick doorstep.

Demetrius smiled at her, moving his huge hand to rub her cheek, bringing her eyes to his face.

"My doors always open..."

"I know," she said with a fevered nod, already lost in thoughts of Patrick and home.

"Patty's gotta grow up at some point," Demetrius said, matter-of-factly.

"I know," she repeated, taking a step and moving along the driveway.

She looked back, her breath catching as the shirtless black man, who had shown her a new world of love-making, watched her walk.

"I'm good," she called.

"I love watching you leave," he yelled back, waiting for her to get in her car before he closed the door.

Karen breathed quietly for a moment in the car, looking at herself in the rearview mirror, unsure of who she was now.

"Shit," she said aloud as her phone dinged.

"Be home soon," Patricked texted.

She'd have to hustle to beat him home so he wouldn't see her in the lingerie he had purchased for her all those years ago, recently enjoyed by another man.

*************