Conquered by My Neighbor- Ch. 6

I don't know what was wrong with me, but for the past three days, I was insatiable. Nobody was safe, not even David, if he had been around. My husband had made the mistake of coming home early enough for me to attack him and throw myself at him with wild abandon. He had told me he was going to be late, so I didn't put on Supergirl or Batgirl, though I was tempted. Instead, I opted for a simple ensemble of my black satin cape, stockings and my black satin garter belt, my black 4-inch stiletto heels and the smallest thong I owned, one of the small triangles that was more of a letter 'V' than a triangle, the notch in the 'V' exposing my pearl when I got aroused. This way, with my auburn hair long and soft, a little evening makeup, and just a hint of his favorite perfume, and I was impossible-to-resist wife. I was successful.

Steve never had a chance. The door was opening and as I helped him open it, I attacked! My lips attacked his, and my arms wrapped about his neck, holding him tightly so that I could wrap my legs around his waist. I began humping against him and he hadn't even set his computer case down. He managed to safely drop the case down, and then his took hold of me, but when he felt the silky satin about me, he got the message. He kissed me back, and our tongues intertwined in a lewd display of love and affection for each other. My soft voice purred in satisfaction and arousal, and I felt his hands sliding all over me, up and down, until he finally had to let me down.

My hands free, he started to speak as I worked on unbuckling his belt and undoing his trousers. I shushed him with a quick finger to his lips.

"I need to be fucked. I have been going crazy without you..." my voice purred sexily. "If you don't fuck me right here, right now, I am going to have to find a man who will!"

By now I had managed to get his pants and jockeys down to his knees, and I then darted away from him, past him and out the front door. It was late in the evening, David was nowhere to be seen, and a warm, quiet night. A perfect night for fucking outdoors, and I was so horny, I wanted it to be risky, exhilarating and fun! The front porch light was still on, and if anyone walked or drove by, they would see us. But I did... not... care.

Steve started to protest, and with every word, I stepped further and further into the front yard. I simply held up a finger, and said three words.

"You, or someone else."

That was all it took and he was on me in a flash, almost tackling me as I landed on my back, my cape under us both. My legs were widely bent and apart, much like at the picnic table the other night, and I was wide and wanting. I was so desperate that I wasn't joking. If my Steve went inside, I was going to go walk down the street and let the first man to find me have me to himself, or even his friends if he wasn't alone. But he had pursued me and he was now thrusting sloppily between my thighs as he was awkwardly trying to reach down to get the rest of his pants off. It took him a moment to realize it would help if his shoes came off, but he was soon nude below the waist, and that was the important part I wanted and needed. His cock rose heartily soon enough and he was dry-humping against my vulva.

"Panties..." I purred and soon my panties were flying in the air to a place I would not find until that next afternoon. They had landed in David's yard.

Steve started to slide the head of his manhood up and down, parting my petals as my slickness coated his shaft. I was moaning softly, my hips rocking to urge him into me. I lay my arms over my head in supplication, and purred.

"Take me, Villain. Plunder what you have earned by right!"

So, he did. His first stroke was slightly mis-aimed, and I winced, but he adjusted and slid right into me, taking each successive thrust to bury his pole deeper into my hole. He buried himself to the hilt on the fourth thrust, and I mewed as my pearl took a direct hit from his public bone. He began to then thrust in earnest. Not the soft, usually slow build-up to the crescendo of lovemaking that was his signature. He started to just pound away at me like I was a two-dollar whore, and I loved it!

Each of his heavy thrusts was full and firm, making me feel every fraction of an inch of him, his pelvis repeatedly smacking my erect clit and making my voice emit a loud feminine grunt of pleasure. He kissed his way to my neck, and nuzzled down, biting me and latching on. He was consuming me, and I was thrilled to be his meal. My legs rose and my heels ended up towards the sky as we rutted like teenagers on prom night.

For some reason, I tilted my head up, to realize a car had stopped, and we were being watched. I wound up making eye-contact with the driver, and he gave this sort of embarrassed wave. I smiled to him, in the lewd and lascivious way only a woman could and used my lips to blow him a kiss. Only to then focus as Steve was started to fuck me in a frenzy, stealing my attention away from the surroundings and our voyeur. My voice started to grow louder, and my passion rising sharply, until his every thrust made me pant and cry out. He orgasmed before I did, but only just, and I held onto him for dear life. We were kissing frantically and consuming each other, while his cock dribbled his semen into my vagina. I managed to steal a glance up again, and our observer was gone. I hadn't heard him drive off. It would be a couple of months before I found out who it was. He was a black guy at the end of our street, and not a guy I knew well. Rumors were the guy was gay as he lived alone and never seemed to have women over.

As we recovered, my legs plopped lazily to the grass, my heels dug in to leave my knees bent and widely parted as Steve rested his weight on me. He caressed my forehead and cheek, giving me this kind of crooked smile.

"Suzi, I love you, and that was hot as Hell. But we can't do this. Not now."

"What? Outside like this? Honey, I loved this!"

He smiled more sweetly and patiently.

"No, my Love, without protection and we can't kiss and make-out like this. It looks like what is coming is serious. The CDC is involved, so is USARMIID, state agencies, and a whole bunch of others. I am doing my best to stay at a distance, but in my position, I can't. I have to lead from the front. So, please expect that I will get infected by this whatever it is. When that happens, we will be staying totally isolated from each other. Until we know what it is, and how to deal with it, I can't in my heart allow you to catch this bug."

I started to protest, and his face changed and grew stoney.

"I mean it, Suzi, no. If it means I have to start living in a hotel, so be it. If this goes bad, I simply cannot allow anything to happen to you. It would kill me."

I lay back, and looked up to him, and we shared a gaze that was more of our own form of interpersonal communication. Even with his love spear dripping the last of his cum into me, we stared into each other's eyes, and I took his message to heart. He was the husband and I was the wife. He was asserting himself in that position, which he rarely did. I simply nodded. If I could get sex with him, it would be quick, impersonal and doggy-style. It would have to be enough to feed my two love languages. Quality time and physical touch. All through a 5-inch penis.

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It had been over a week without seeing David, and I was beginning to become genuinely concerned. Was he traveling and something happened to him? Was he in Florida, trying to reclaim his marriage? I doubted that one, but hey, stranger things have happened. Did he lose his temper somewhere and wind up in jail? Was he on a vacation? It was just so out of character from the David I had known, from a lecherous old guy to a serial stalker and r a p i s t to a man Hell-bent on claiming me as his wife and giving me his children. Something wasn't right.

The news had begun spreading stories, and they were scary. Some bug was killing people. It was killing a lot of people. So far, exposure here in this country was minimal. But across the Pacific? It was bad. Then I began to notice something. The news became inaccurate. They kept showing stories of hospitals being overcrowded and care-givers in Hazmat suits tending to the sick and dying. Yet Steve started coming home a little earlier. Well, early for him. We even got to have a shared dinner, though he made us sit at opposite ends of the formal dining table, about eight feet apart. He shared how work was slowing down, and there were talks of layoffs. Not that he was going to be affected, but some middle management and ancillary staff could be on the chopping block. They were going to trim the fat to maintain financial stability. Yet the news said the hospitals were packed beyond capacity? So I asked him about it.

"Hmm? What? No! We are slower than slow, actually our whole state is. There are some small-town medical facilities about to go out of business because it is so slow. Whatever the news is saying, it isn't correct. I'll even show them if they want to come over."

Hmmm. Okay, so my auditing mind kicked in. 'What's wrong with this picture?' was what I usually thought. I couldn't figure it out and wouldn't until later. Eventually, it would dawn on me that the media was doing more than lying. They were spreading propaganda. So, my solution was easy. I turned off the TV or switched to streaming services and watched movies. Any real news I needed my husband would provide. To this day, I have never trusted the news since.

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Steve was suddenly back to making his late night, early morning routine again. He softly told me the shit had hit the fan and this new virus had jumped the Pacific Ocean, and cases were spreading like wildfire. He told me that he had even managed to get a cot in his office, and he took some clothes and toiletries with him. He was prepared for some long days and even longer nights. We set up a phone call schedule, every eight hours, and he would call me with updates if needed. I wouldn't see him again for four days.

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I noticed David had come back two days later. He had been outdoors, and signing for some packages and a bunch of documents, I guess. Or at least that is how it looked to me. After the deliveries had been brought inside, curiosity got the better of me. I pulled on my pleated sundress, the green one with the high collar, no sleeves, and a full back. The pleats ended about mid-though. Steve loved the dress, especially on a breezy day. If the wind caught me just right, it was like wearing a cape, almost, although the hem would only rise to armpits. The neckline was so narrow that wearing a bra was not possible. Not that it was great for my modesty, mind you.

I had received the dress as a gift from my husband while we were on a cruise vacation. Wearing it to dinner was fine, but afterwards we went for an evening stroll about the ship. That was where the fun and embarrassment began. I was ascending the stairs ahead of Steve and a massive updraft billowed up the dress, exposing me nearly completely, only a dining room window allowed those eating dinner a complete view of my thong. I shrieked as I was exposed, and I used my hands to the best of my ability, but it was far too late. Diners inside as well as those outside got to enjoy my visual delights. There was even a smattering of applause and a catcall or hot or three. I had to hold the front down and let everyone see my basically naked backside, until I could find a safer spot to collect myself. Steve just climbed after me, slowly. He clearly enjoyed the view. That night, as he made love to me while I was still wearing the dress, he kept bragging how hot it was to see me like that, exposed and embarrassed as I was. It was a hint of the things to come.

So, wearing that dress, because it was a light polyester, and close, I made my way over just to check on David and see how he was doing. The good neighbor-thing.

"Hi, David, how are you? I didn't know you took a trip."

"Ahh, my Slut has returned." He squared up to me, so I could see his full body. He was wearing a golf shirt, though it hung loosely from his frame. More obvious weight loss. "Been looking to get that itch between your legs scratched by a real man? You know I am better that Steve when I fuck you."

"David..." I replied sardonically, "My husband has been scratching that itch just fine, thank you very much. I don't need your help."

That part was true. I had B. O. B. and a few of his friends for those times when I was really feeling 'lonely'. Steve, however, has been a little harder to get quality time with, as work was growing more demanding. Dinners were more and more eating alone, with the TV for company. As for David being a better lover, I couldn't deny that. It was very true, just like sex was with his son. But I wasn't going to admit that to him.

"Well, we'll help you anyway. Here."

He handed me a box, and then spoke as if giving me an order.

"Wear this tomorrow and be at my front door at precisely five o'clock. I'll let you in."

I rolled my eyes and tried to give the box back.

"David, you are getting the wrong idea about me. I am not your slut, and I know you have this fantasy about my becoming your wife, but that is not going to happen. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever."

He wouldn't take the box, so I set it down on the counter. Looking at the box and then at me, he stared into my eyes, and I couldn't help holding that gaze.

"Suzi, we both know you are going to do it, one way or another, so quit fighting it. You want my cock, like you want my son's. You would wear that dress for him in a heartbeat. So, take it, get it ready to wear, and be at my front door at five tomorrow. You have no choice. The other option is I come to you and have sex with you at your place, in your bedroom, on your bed, so Steve will see and smell my cum in his bed. Which do you want?"

I had zero doubt that he would do exactly what he said he would. He didn't have a history of lying, and I really didn't want him screwing me on my own bed. Steve's bed. Our marital bed. Once was too many times as it was. Sighing I rolled my eyes as I broke his gaze and reached out, slapping my arm around the box and turning to leave. I wasn't about to bid David good-bye. My twirl did let the hem of my dress rise a little in a tease, which is why Steve had bought it for me.

"Don't let anything happen to that dress, you will be wearing it for me, too, my Slut!"

I gave him the finger as I walked away, glad I had worn wedge sandals rather than stilettos. I would have sunk into the grass if I wasn't careful, and I know David was just itching to stick his weapon in me. I didn't want to give him an excuse. Retreating into my house, I locked the doors. Not that it would really matter, over the time we had been neighbors, we had keys to each other's houses to help with house care while others went on vacation and so on. I had David's keys on a keyring with three other neighbor's keys. It was the only way how David kept getting into my closet and selecting my attire for the occasion.

Opening the box, I gasped as I pulled out the dress. This outfit was simply gorgeous! It was a shimmering black satin, with a deep-set cleavage and draped sleeves that reached down to my elbows. There would be no lifting my arms with this dress, and my forearms would be covered by a pair of matching satin opera gloves. The skirt was wide and had a red petticoat made of the same silky material. It was a Lolita-style, and the hem of the skirt reached just below my butt, maybe another inch, at most. It would be perfect for a formal company event or a formal dinner party. It screamed sexy, sophisticated, and desirable. As I pulled the dress up and held it against me, I realized that I would not be able to resist wearing it. My satin fetish was screaming at me, and I suppose I did want David to see me in it, before I turned him down flat.

I spent the rest of the day preparing the dress and the rest of the ensemble. The dress was smooth, silky and wrinkle-free when I was done. A garter belt was out, as the dress showed too much strapping for my comfort. I felt that if I wore one, David really would think I was a slut, or worse, even a whore. My blood-red platform stilettos would work well with sheer black thigh-highs, as it would show the bands of the stockings. The real decision was what color thong to wear, red or black. Ultimately, I chose black. Red would give David another signal I didn't want him to have.

I debated on only one thing. A cape. I tried on both red and black. Neither of them were great. The style and fit were fantastic, but the color and material were slightly off. Ultimately, I decided to leave the cape at home. My plan was simple. Dress as he wanted, walk to his door, model for him quickly and then turn and make my escape back home. He would get what he wanted, and I would get what I wanted, which was to drop him down a peg or two. The dress was just an added bonus to keep for his being an asshole to me, despite the ability his cock had to make me scream his name.

My nightly phone call with my husband was getting tense on his side. He started asking for things, like having me come to his work and pick up his dirty laundry, after it had been sanitized and then wash and fold it. He also asked for snacks. Lots and lots of snacks, and oh, if I felt like it, could I stop through a hamburger place and get him a hot meal? Hospital food was killing him. I had no idea what was going on, but I was told to stay safe and keep strangers at arms-length, as well as not letting strangers get too close to me. These were all reminders, but the fact he kept doing it told me this was serious beyond what was being said. For his conscience and comfort, I agreed to everything he said. He did tell me that the local neighbors who were staying home during the day were fine, like David. Anyone who had recently travelled out of the country had to be avoided at all costs.

I had to struggle to not roll my eyes at that. In my mind, he was telling me it was okay to hang out with the guy who wants to steal me from my husband, the guy who is forcing his cock into me and trying to get me pregnant by him. David was also the man that if I had not already been married to Steve, would likely have his wedding ring on my finger. Not to mention his baby or babies in me. Sex with David was that good. If there was a way to put a number on it, I would have to say at least 700% better. Not that Steve was bad, but David was just better, by far. For his sake, I agreed to everything Steve wanted, and saw to those chores. I went to David's house and knocked on the door, wearing an old t-shirt and jeans.

"You're a bit early, aren't you, my Slut?'

I frowned.

"David, don't call me that. I am not your anything."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. I can see it in your eyes, you will be standing here, wearing what I want, and do it when I want you to."

I had to take a deep breath and exhale as controlling my temper with him was beginning to get harder.

"David, I just spoke to my husband," I emphasized the word husband, "and he has some things I need to do for him tomorrow. So, I will be late. I don't know what time I will be here, but I will be here as soon as I can."

My tone was stern and my arms folded across my chest, cradling my ample bosom. David's eyes pierced into mine. He could tell I was serious. I was surprised when he agreed.

"Alright, my Slut. Be here as fast as you can. I'll be waiting."

"And quit calling me your slut. I am not your slut at all!"

"Yeah, okay, my Slut."

With that, he shut the door in my face. Not slamming it but making sure I was aware of what he considered my role in this relationship. It was end of discussion.

I woke up the next morning and checked work. There was a bunch of miscellaneous stuff and one of my clients was late with his submissions. After making a few calls and then clearing out what I needed, I ran the errands Steve needed. I bought boxes of cheese crackers, cookies and snacks, including his favorites, as well as a couple of bunches of bananas and grapes. I also bought a few twelve-packs of his favorite soft drink. Lastly, I drove through his favorite burger place and bought him two double cheeseburgers, two orders of fries and two milkshakes. My husband was not going to starve. Not on my watch.

Driving to the hospital, I managed to get a cart from the security staff to take inside with all of the goodies my husband wanted. In return, they were kind enough to give me three bags of dirty, sanitized laundry. The oxymoron was obvious. Sanitary and yet dirty. Weird. As I left, I belatedly realized that the security people looked tired, too. I made a mental note to bring them something, too. I felt bad for them, people rarely thought about the security guards, and their job was hard, too!

Getting home, I began to get ready for David's rendezvous with some trepidation. I was taking a risk, and I knew it, but the flip-side was worse. My mind worked as I mindlessly shaved my legs and armpits, as well as trimmed up my landing strip. Was I responsible for David and Anita's break-up? Had Anita already been planning this? Was I just the excuse? Who else had David been screwing? I couldn't come up with great answers, though I still wished I had not worn the Supergirl costume for him. I had just wanted to show off, I suppose, but instead, was forcibly violated by my neighbor. I moisturized everywhere within reason. I slid on my stockings, taking the time to ensure that the back-seams were straight. Next came my 6-inch platforms in the 'Fuck-me Red" color. I then pulled on my tiny thong and decided to take some selfies for my husband. I didn't get to see him at his work, so perhaps this will help him... release... some tension I knew he had to be developing.

I posed for him in various ways from bent over, to jutting my chest out, to laying back and spreading my legs, and finally playing my fingers over my pearl in a very close-up image. Yes, I suppose looking back I was making a porn shoot, but they were for my husband, so it didn't really count. Although, if someone saw his phone, we would both have some explaining to do. I then texted the pictures to him with the last one blowing him a kiss. The response came back nearly instantaneously, and with a wide smile and eggplant emojis. My last reply was that I loved him and he could have this waiting for him if he wanted. His reply was all hearts, as well as a thank you for the treats I got him.

Looking at the clock, it was now mid-afternoon, and I would be another couple of hours, so I had a fast snack and then began working on my makeup and hair. My makeup I did a little heavier and used evening shades, with blood-red lipstick. With gloss on my lips, they did look tremendously kissable! I took more time with my hair, and after some playing around, ended up with a passable Chignon, my hair pulled back and ended in a fancy sort of twisted bun at the nape of my neck. It was a fancier type of style but it did do some justice to the dress. I did notice my hair was getting a bit too long and would have to make a hair appointment for a trim and treatment. Stepping into the dress, I took a few moments to arrange things, as well as get my boobs comfortably settled, then came my stilettos. I looked again at the clock and sighed. It was time for the confrontation.

The dusk was just fading to darkness as I made my way next door. I decided to leave my purse at home. Just in case David managed to grab me and do his best to conquer me. I didn't want him to be able to access my phone, in case he decided to take pictures of me and send them to my husband. There were a lot of things I was trying to minimize the risk of. Pregnancy was the biggest. I was on the pill and taking it every morning like clockwork. If David impregnated me, I would be doomed to become his. In itself, that wouldn't be awful, but destroying my marriage and devastating the man I love? No, that had to be avoided at all costs. It would also break my heart. No, no pregnancy. Which also meant I had to make David think he could. If he kept up the thought that he could, then I could keep safe by preventing him from doing so. The mind-games were getting a little convoluted. I sighed as I ascended his steps, the flounce in the dress making my skirt bounce up and down as my hips swiveled in the higher heels. It would be great skirt action for a man watching me from behind. With a rap of my satin-gloved knuckles, I let David know I was here.

David eventually answered on the second knock, and he stood there dressed in a nice shirt and slacks, with dress shoes. I was so surprised to see him that my lips gaped open.

"You're late, Slut. C'mon, we are leaving."

He collected my arm and escorted me to his car, which had even been washed. David never washed his car. He opened the door like a gentleman, and I slid in demurely, keeping my knees closed as I sat down and turned, allowing the hem of my dress to rise higher than it should have. Between his clothing and car, something screamed that he was up to something, but I had no idea what it was. He then began the battle of the sexes by placing his palm on my knee and then sliding it up my thigh, feeling my silken, shiny stockings. I placed my hand over his, to try and control him from feeling up my leg too much.

"Ummm, David? What's going on?"

"Well," he began. "You made me realize that I need to broaden my horizons a little bit, and so I met a guy who introduced me to his group. But they all have wives or girlfriends, so I am bringing you along. You are my date, and you will act accordingly, my Slut. Or I will feed you to them and they will be on you like hungry and horny savages. Your safety now rests on your playing the devoted girlfriend. My girlfriend."

I didn't like where this was headed, but we were in his car and headed on the freeway. His hand continued to feel me up, higher and higher, until he was under my skirt, tracing his fingers along the belt of my thong. It wasn't like there was a stoplight where I could just hop out and make my way home. No, I had to play his game. He had outsmarted me. Damn. I was underestimating his cleverness. I gave up fighting his feeling me up.

"You're wearing panties. I told you not to do that around me."

"I'm sorry, but with this dress, I need them. It is too short and the risk of exposing myself is too great. Besides, I think you like the action of physically removing them when you want to."

He frowned thoughtfully and said nothing.

"Ummm... David?" My mind had to ask. "Am I your only... well... 'girlfriend'?"

"Now? Yes. I was fucking a woman a few streets over as I started bedding you, until her husband found out that her child wasn't his. I had made sure to keep her pussy filled with my cock until it was too late to get an abortion, so now she is going to have my black baby. It's a shame, really, a pretty girl, built just like you, only a little taller and with blonde hair. They put their house up for sale and are moving. I gave her the choice to move in with me, and become my wife, but she kept turning me down flat, until it was too late and her husband managed to keep her from me. I think she would have eventually said yes."

He shook his head ruefully as I had a shocked expression. I had no idea.

"Honestly, though, I think I got the better end of the deal. I got you, and soon you will be pregnant with my child as well. It's a win-win for everyone."

"You mean for everyone except my husband."

"Oh, him. Don't you worry, I have been working on him. He has this fantasy of you and him having sex in all sorts of places. He even told me once that he found the thought of watching you have sex with another man exciting. Try that next time.

Talk dirty to him. Whisper in his ear that I am fucking you. See how excited he gets. Test his reaction. You'll see."

I fell silent, as I didn't know what to say, so I looked out the window as the roadway passed. Did Steve know about David violating me? If so, what did he know? Did he give David permission? Did my husband want David to defile me for his own fantasies? Was I being played as the sex toy for two men? As we arrived at where ever David was taking me, the only conclusion was that Steve and I needed to have a long talk. I needed to know what my husband truly wanted from me, sexually.

Exiting the car, I decided to 'girlfriend-up'. I smiled to him and let him take my hand to help me up to my heels, taking the effort necessary to act sexy for him, and whomever of his friends might be watching. These were things I had done for men before I was married, and for my husband while we were dating and soon after we married, but I had sort of fallen out of the habit. David smiled in return and became more of a gentleman than I thought he had in him. Hanging on his arm, he slowed his pace to match my taller heels strut, letting those around us see me as my hips swayed a little more seductively, and my skirt flitted about and played as my hips swiveled. I was letting David show me off, as his girlfriend.

Once inside, I realized that this was not a club white couples might often attend. Certainly not white men. I noticed a number of white women there, and each seemed to be escorted by a black man. I did see one white couple at the bar, and the white man was being ignored by the white woman as two black men were chatting her up. She eventually left with the two black men and the white man followed in a sort of humble humiliation. The club was actually far nicer on the inside than the outside would give the impression of. Colored lights in purples, blues, pinks and reds, nicely furnished with larger high top tables and multiple low tables for couples seating to bed oil together with friends. The music was a mix of jazz and soft rap and hip-hop, and servers of just about every race moved about in fancy and very short outfits reminiscent of a French Maid's uniform. The bar was large and appeared to be well-stocked, with dozens of tall chairs and numerous patrons. As I was looking around, I absently let David lead me deeper into the club, until he found who he was looking for.

They were three men, each with a white woman on their arms. All of them were similar to me in that we all were well-attired, and I noticed, all were wearing our wedding rings. It gave me a mental chagrin in that I had forgotten to take mine off. These people would know I was a married woman, and yet David's purported girlfriend. Awkwardness was sure to ensue, at least for me. Introductions were made all around, and I was gracious and polite, but had decided it best for me to sit there, shut up and look pretty. I was David's arm-candy, nothing more. I noticed the other girls were pretty much the same, though only one other also wore a wedding ring. All of us stuck close to our dates and just followed to conversation. They spoke about causes, and justice and how the white race owed for so much history. I did learn a few things that I wasn't necessarily in favor of.

First, I found out that Black Lives Matter wasn't about protecting black lives as much as a money grab and greed in terms of both cash of society. They talked about how the prime weapon of the black race was not guns, but wombs. They wanted a society where the whites were enslaved, and all Blacks were Masters or Mistresses. Claiming white women as their own sex slaves was part of that. I fidgeted a little as their conversation got a little uncomfortable, and I noticed the other married woman did, too. They also spoke of this burgeoning movement called Black New World Order. It was new, and yet they were unsure of it. Evidently, the BNWO vision was blacks as a master race, and all whites were subservient, forever. Whites would essentially be bred out of existence, through interracial reproduction, by consent or force. That one made me shift uncomfortably. Was David trying to do this to me? Was that why he was trying to impregnate me, and lay claim to me as his wife?

At one point, I leaned my head up over my shoulder to David and kissed his cheek.

"Sweetheart, I need to use the ladies' room."

He nodded and released me, taking his arm from my shoulder, which he had done rather possessively. The other married woman took this opportunity to join me. As I rose, my 'boyfriend' took the opportunity to feel up my dress and grope my ass, before ending with a playful spank. I played it up and smiled to him.

"Oh, behave. Not in public! That is for later!"

I then bent low to kiss his lips quickly, which also allowed two of the other men to get a good look up my skirt as well. I figured if I was David's girlfriend, I must make him look like he had a winner on his hands, and that he was in full control of me. At that moment, in a way, he was.

Once in the ladies' room, I did my business and as I was washing up and checking my makeup, the other woman joined me. I learned her name was Joyce.

"So, what do you think?" she asked.

"Oh, I dunno. Some of this is pretty scary." I shook my head ruefully. "I'd be afraid for the white men if either of these things came true."

She nodded.

"Are you David's wife?"

"No. Are you married to the man you are with?"

"Not yet. But he is doing a damn good job of stealing me from my husband. My husband just gets to watch as DeShawn and even his friends come over to have sex with me. I put my husband in a cock cage after he tried to have his way with me a couple of weeks ago. DeShawn had to hold him down while I did it. It breaks my heart in a way, but my husband just isn't going to go along. The thing is, though, DeShawn is also breaking my resistance. At first, we just had a one-time fling while my husband was on an overnight. But the sex was so good, it became an addiction real fast. Now, I don't really want to have sex with my husband. He doesn't know it, but DeShawn and I have discussed my getting a divorce."

I blanched and had an astounding realization. David was trying to do the same thing with me! He had made some progress, too. I was still comparing David to Steve, and Steve was repeatedly coming up short. David was making me realize what I truly needed from sex. It wasn't to be treated like fine crystal, it was to be taken, consumed and worn out. To have so many orgasms that I lost consciousness. To be, for lack of better terms, possessed, claimed and tamed. Joyce's words were making me realize David's goal was more than just to have me replace Anita, as I thought. He wants me to be part of the destruction of the white race! The realization was both sobering and yet, in a way, arousing. David and I would definitely need to talk.

I shared as much with Joyce and we both agreed this was a dangerous time. It was going to be rough on us women, married women especially, and white males were in for some real trouble. I didn't have any clue how things would go, or have any vision beyond surviving David's sexual onslaught, which was dominating and formidable. My husband didn't know it, but he was in trouble. For that part, so was I.

Returning, David again groped me as I sat, snuggling in and giggling, while playfully slapping his forearm.

"Later, later!"

"Keep looking like this and I'm gonna' fuck you on the table and then let all the other guys in the place have you as well." He spoke into my ear, a breathy whisper that ended with a nibble of my earlobe.

I shivered and looked at him over my shoulder, trying to force a smile.

"Please... don't even tease at that. I am having a hard enough time as it is. The last thing I need is more men in my life."

He lowered his arm from across my shoulder to down my chest, resting near my vulva, the short hemline of my dress making it easy work for him to grape me fully, if he so desired.

"Just remember, you are my slut, so you will fuck who I want you to, when I want you to."

Again, he was whispering in my ear, but I couldn't hide the astonishment and sudden nervousness. I was getting the idea that to fit in with this group, he was going to share me as proof of his dedication and loyalty. The other men had talked in vague terms about any white woman being fair game to any black men at any time. I thought they were talking in general concepts for some indeterminant future, not in the next hour!

That night, when we returned home, David walked me to my door. I thought it was an oddly gentlemanly thing for him to do. It turned out to be odd. He forced his way into my home, dragged me upstairs and then forced himself on me, in my marital bed anyway. He then spent the night, fucking me three more times, exhausting me with numerous climaxes. When I woke up late the next morning, he was gone. But there was no mistaking the scent and evidence of our coupling. The air was heavy with the combined scent of raw, rough sex, and the combined fluids we shared and spent had leaked everywhere, even on the quilt covering the bed. I spent the next few hours cleaning up after the night's intense sexual tryst, not wondering where David went, only when he would come at me again.