Ranch Wife

She could see the dust in the distance, moving up her driveway, even before She saw the car that generated it.

"Afternoon," he said while his tires still crunched the gravel beneath them.

"Hi there," she said smiling. "Terry." She held out her hand and he shook it.

"Blaine. Sorry to disturb you but I'm hopelessly lost. Do you have any idea where this is?" He handed her a paper with a map and list of directions.

"You're not disturbing me. We don't get many visitors out here. You look thirsty...could you use a beer?"

"That would be great," he said, getting out of his car.

"You're a long drink of water," Terry drawled, squinting up at Blaine who stood six feet six in his boots.

Both smiled at her obvious double entendre. She's cute...and helpful, he thought so Blaine said nothing. She was a little older than he'd first thought when he saw her in tight jeans as he drove up. He could tell immediately that she was attracted by the taboo of his dark chocolate skin.

"Wait here. I'll get the beers and a map."

"Fuck it," Blaine said in frustration as they neared the bottom of their bottles. "I'm never going to find it using a map. Where's the nearest town?"

"Just up the road...forty miles or so. What do you say? One more beer before you go?"

"Why not."

Blaine deliberately let his long fingers play with the long neck bottle. They'd been described as like king crab legs and the dwarfed the bottle. He could see her eyeing them and knew she wanted to say something but was afraid to make the first move.

"Fingers are so big and clumsy," he said, opening up the conversation to move in more erotic directions. He held them up so she could get a good look. He knew it wouldn't be long before they'd be discussing the length of something else. The curiosity of the middle aged white wife is a powerful thing.

"Is it true?" she asked, taking hold of one of his fingers, examining it, caressing it.

"Is what true?"

"You know."

"Maybe you better tell me. I don't want to get my face slapped for answering the wrong question."

"Would you like to come inside?"

"What about your husband?" he asked, tracing the wedding band on her finger. "He doesn't mind?"

"He doesn't mind what he doesn't know." Terry took his hand to lead him inside.

"There's something you should know first."

"What's that?"

"It's what we'll do. You should know that I only permit fellatio on the first date."

"First date? Ha!" she laughed. "Is that what you call this, a date?"

"Not sure what else to call it."

"How about a fuck? That's what it is."

"I suppose you're right...except for the fucking part."

"You're serious?" she asked.

"Perfectly," he answered.

"You think I'm just going to suck you off and you'll go on your merry way?"

"I don't know if you will or not, but that's the offer?"

"Are you crazy?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"I blow you and I get nothing out of it?"

"That's not true," he told her.

"What's not true?"

"That you get nothing out of it. Actually you'll get a great deal out of it."

"I'm sure I will," she said sarcastically, "but I meant pleasure, not having you blow your load down my throat."

"That's not what I meant. You will derive a great deal of pleasure too."

"You're crazy...that's the nuttiest thing I ever heard."

"I understand," he said. "It is a bit bizarre when you first think about it. Well, I better get going up the road then." He stepped over to his car.

"Wait," she said, going to stand in front of him. She caressed his bare forearms with her hands. "You understand you're turning down the chance to fuck me." Perhaps he'd misunderstood her offer, she hoped.

"Yes. Don't be offended, I'm sure there are many others who'd like my place."

"You're damn right there are!" she spat. But she found herself uncertain at experiencing sexual rejection for the first time in her life. She softened her tone, "What's wrong with giving each other pleasure?"

"Nothing at all. It's unfortunate that you don't understand that's just what we'll be doing. You've never been with a black man, have you?"

"No."

"It's different. White men turn themselves inside out trying to please you. I'll use you. That's all I can promise. I'll use you for my pleasure. You'll service me, nothing more, nothing less."

"It sounds so unfair."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"I don't know. You're sure I'll enjoy doing this?"

"I give no guarantees," I told you.

"If I do it you'll cum in my mouth, won't you?"

"Yes."

He could see the hard nipples under her shirt. He knew she wanted to blow him and that the only thing holding her back was the thought of how kinky and degrading what he asked was. The fact was that she was considering debasing herself for his cock was just adding to her excitement.

No, she wouldn't be getting fucked, not pussy fucked, not ass fucked, not even finger fucked. They wouldn't be 69-ing, he wouldn't be eating her before she ate him; he wouldn't be returning the favor after she sucked his cock.

It wouldn't even be a simple handjob where she could satisfy her curiosity about black cock, fulfill a long held desire to see one close up, touch it play with it, watch it spurt and spill it's seed on the ground.

This would be none of those things. It would just as he told her it is between a black man and a white woman. He would use her for his pleasure. She would be his cock slut, simple as that.

It was such a horrible, demeaning thought. But if it was so awful, why were her nipples so hard? Why were her panties so wet?

"I need an answer, Terry. Look, we both know you want to. There's no mistaking the signal those hard nipples are sending. We both know it's the whole "fairness" thing that has you hung up. But I don't think there are so many black guys driving down this lane that you have a lot of choices. When I'm gone, I'm gone forever. I'm not coming back whichever way you choose. You have this one chance to suck a black cock. Are you going to do it?

She thought before answering. "Yes."

"Say it."

Blaine knew he had broken her. Against her wishes, her better judgment, against an ideal image of herself that she was willing to be a black cock slut, that she was so fevered by the thought of a big black dick that she'd do what he asked just for the privilege of giving it pleasure.

He knew he would humiliate her just a bit further. But it was humiliation with a purpose. Not only would it further enflame her now, but also later when the true impact of his gift to her was understood. When she lay in bed, late at night, fingering her cunt, bringing herself to shuddering, shattering climaxes as she remembered the day she sucked his cock.

"Yes, I'm going to do it," you answered.

"Do what? Say the words."

"I'm going to suck your cock."

"Is that something you want to do?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to cum in your mouth?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to taste my cum and swallow it?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I want your cum. I want it in my mouth, your delicious cum in my mouth. I want it in my tummy. All nice and warm in my tummy."

"Tell me you're my slut Terry."

"Yes Blaine. Yes I'm your slut."

"You're my black cock slut."

"I'm your black cock slut."

"Tell me you want me to use you."

"I want you to use me Blaine. Please...please use my mouth for your pleasure."

He pressed down the top of her head until she was kneeling. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his still flaccid cock.

"Do you like it? he asked as she reached to touch it.

"It's so black," she breathed.

"And..." he asked.

"You're already bigger than my husband and you haven't even begun to get hard."

She began to stroke it and it began to grow.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed when he was three-quarters hard. "You're so fucking big!! Maybe it's best I didn't try to fuck you."

She was holding his dick with both fists and jerking it off. He put his hand on the back of her head, urging her forward. She opened her mouth as wide as she could and let his cockhead pass between her lips.

Her tongue was swirling against the underside of his dick and it continued to grow in her mouth. Their combined excitement was great and they both urged each other: she with her mouth, him with his cock.

It didn't take more than a few minutes before he was flooding her mouth and she was swallowing valiantly, if vainly to contain his flow. Finally, he stopped spurting. She sat back on the heels of her boots, breathing deeply. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. His cock was still hard.

"Does it always stay up like this after you cum?" she asked beginning to stroke it again with her fingertips.

He nodded. She moved close again, kissing the slit in the head that was still oozing semen.

"I've never blown anyone from this far away," she giggled as her two hands tried to encircle the base of his cock while her tongue teased it's tip. Soon she was happily, eagerly fellating him again. He lasted longer the second time. She spent more time examining it with her hands, her lips, her tongue, her eyes.

The result was the same, a big mouthful of creamy black cum. She stood up after she drained him a second time within fifteen minutes.

"You'd better get going," she said, hugging him. "Hubby's going to be back soon."

"You'd better change," he told her holding out her shirt where cum had splashed on it. He bent down and gave her a peck on her cum covered lips then asked, "One more?"

His cock was sticking straight out again. "The marvels of youth," she murmured as she sank to her knees again.

Her hand rested on her stomach as she watched his car disappear down her lane. Hubby will be getting very, very lucky tonight, she thought as she contentedly rubbed the spot where three delicious loads of creamy black cum rested warm and satisfying.