In waning dusk, Alison stood staring at the horizon and the grey trees ascending towards aphotic clouds from the looming storm. A humid southerly wind caused her to shiver despite the warm temperatures.
George Ikechi was a new resident in the seasonal beach community, but secretly held a very different belief. It seemed as if a supreme force protected George. His travels had guided him here.
Isolated in the predominantly rental beach community, beneath a foreboding, dark, starless sky, Alison’s house sat. The wind whisked away falling pine needles and howled of an approaching storm. George resolutely stood among the creaking trees with their branches twisted like elongated arthritic fingers.
Inside the house Alison faced the fireplace. She didn’t need the heat but the light due to the sporadic electricity. She sat languorously balled up at the end of the sofa as rain began pelting the windows.
Her husband was gone. As many times over the years, she was without him and alone. She decided to find some solice reading on her iPad.
The lights flickered one last time and went dark as the storm brought down the power and phone lines. In this remote area, cell phone coverage was poor at best. Now there was no communications at all.
She had supplies and decided to wait until the storm passed. She longed for her husband to snuggle with and keep her safe as she watched the flames dance in radiant yellow and orange brilliance that spilled tall, wavering shadows into the lonely room.
A frantic pounding on the door startled Alison and interrupted her musings. The nearest neighbors miles away, she put down her iPad to cautiously investigate.
“Who is it?” Alison shouted from behind the door.
The incessant pummeling on the door stopped.
“I’m George Ikechi, your neighbor from up the road. I’m stuck out here and need help, please,” a voice that sounded vaguely familiar replied.
Alison did not recognize the name.
A clatter from the lock turning brought a momentary smile to George, but he quickly replaced it with a brooding frown when the door opened.
Alison opened the door to an onslaught of wind and rain and a flood of humid night air that instantly displaced the comfort inside the house and caused the flames in the fireplace to shudder. In the gloom, she vaguely recognized the gigantic, imposing figure standing at her doorway, “Come in.”
She moved aside, guardedly allowing the dark figure to pass and hurriedly shutting the door behind him.
“The power’s out,” she explained, leading him with the poise of a dancer from the shadowy hallway toward the bright fireplace.
In light cast by the fire, Alison recognized the figure covered in rain that formed puddles beneath his boots. He was the Ethiopian immigrant, a Christian refugee that she met in Church the other day.
He removed his hands from the pockets of his dark blue rain jacket and appreciatively dried them above the genial flames.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing out on a night like this?” Alison asked.
In yoga pants that tightly followed the developed curves of Alison’s young, athletic body, it took every ounce of George’s willpower to stop his eyes from devouring her.
“I saw the storm coming and thought I better get more gasoline for my generator and some bottled water. Before I got to town, the road had already washed out. I tried to get back home but my truck slid off the road and got stuck,” George explained.
Alison thought about the inappropriateness of a strange black man staying the night while her husband was away. But in good conscience, she could not refuse George lodging if the storm continued raging, and answered sympathetically, “Well you can’t go out with it storming like this. Let me take your jacket to dry.”
She went to help him remove the backpack he was wearing so he could take off the jacket, but he stopped her.
“I’ve got it,” George said. “It’s pretty heavy.”
He placed the backpack on the hardwood floor leaning it against the end of the sofa.
Alison hung his rain jacket over the back of a chair and left his boots by the fire to dry.
With his jacket off, Alison noticed large muscles bulging beneath George’s shirt. She wondered what type of strenuous physical labor he performed in Africa to make them so big.
George was somewhat handsome, but she was married white woman and not interested other men — especially black men. His strong facial structure looked like it had been sculpted in marble with smooth dark brown skin; short kinky black hair on top of his head; wet, black eyes like obsidian.
Alison took a sip of tea she had prepared earlier, now lukewarm, and saw George watching her. “I’m sorry I can’t make you some with the power out. Let me get you a towel. Would you like something to drink? Water perhaps?” she asked jokingly.
George smirked. “Actually, I am a little thirsty.”
Alison minced her way nursing the fragile flame from a candle.
When she left the room, George leaned over to where his backpack sat next to the couch, silently retracted its zipper enough to slide his hand inside.
Sheets of rain fell outside and the humid wind strained through crevices in the old, drafty structure as Alison groped in the dimly lit closet for a towel. It looked increasingly likely that this black man, a practical stranger, would have to stay the night. This prospect did not sit well with her.
George was zippering his backpack closed as Alison returned with a glass of water.
“My cell phone doesn’t work, but as soon as it lets up, we’ll go outside and try to call someone to come help you.”
It was a tactful hint that she did not want him here any longer than necessary, and George got it. “I don’t think anyone will come out in this weather anyway. I’m really sorry for this inconvenience. I didn’t know what else to do. Your house is the only place occupied for miles.”
Alison returned to the other end of the sofa and sipped from the half-full cup. It was now cold. The tea a slightly different, vaguely sweet inviting flavor, she thought, smacking her lips together and finishing the remaining.
“Have you lived in the States long?” Alison asked, finding herself in a more talkative mood.
“About four months.”
“Where are you from?”
George paused a moment not wanting to reveal too much about himself and thinking about his answer. The less she knew about him the better. He lied and told her he was from Harar.
He decided to encourage the uncharacteristic garrulousness in her that the pheromone induced. “How about you?”
Unusual exhilaration and a girlish silliness she had buried years ago bubbled to her surface in an odd euphoria. She opened so much to him, providing her entire life history. The moments passed, the more she talked and her tale became more uniquely personal.
Alison chattered, gazing at her pale reflection in the dark window. The glass pane clouded with moisture. It was stiflingly hot.
Without her noticing George inched closer. He comfortably reclined and put his arm around her shoulders, his touch strangely redolent of a first loves, and smiled into her face as he adjusted an extremely large bulge in his pants.
Alison saw the curved outline of his immense manhood strain against the fabric, reach above his left hip, and practically pop out the waistband of his trousers. She realized something was changing with her. It was as if her inviting white skin had discovered its birth right.
She couldn’t compose herself; she wouldn’t remain seated. She could not think straight anymore. She tried standing and almost fell before George jumped up and caught her.
“Whoa, you’re in no condition to walk,” George said, holding Alison against him. She was everything he sought in a woman — a beautiful face, a perfect little body and white. Something about blonde white women in particular made George extra horny.
Tight in George’s arms, she tried to recoil from the hardness of his penis that she felt through his pants pushing into her tummy.
“Get hands off. Let… go,” she babbled.
“Are you okay? What’s the matter?” An out-of-place smile appeared on George’s face. “You’re not feeling well.”
She stared at him with a vacant look.
“You may have the flu or something.”
George sat Alison on the sofa and with the candle she had used earlier, searched her house, finding her cellphone, its charger and a set of keys on the kitchen table. In another room, he found her computer and removed its power cord.
He returned to the living room with Alison’s phone and keys in his pockets, the phone charger and computer power cord in his hand. Alison was gone and the front door left open as an invitation for the raging storm beyond.
George grabbed a flashlight from his backpack. The darkness seemed to swallow him as he faced the crashing torrents, the roar of the elements, left the house and went into the night to find her.
He discovered Alison slumped over the hood of her locked car. Her keys, along with her cellphone, were safely in his pockets.
Rain covered Alison. Wearing only her yoga outfit, she was drenched.
Atop Alison’s chiffonier a solitary candle glimmered, her somber bedroom filled with a playing dance of light and shadows. Behind bluing red lips, her teeth chattered as she shivered in George’s arms. The potent pheromone attenuated what would have been her violent kicks, strikes, and desperate squirms.
George plopped her into bed, his immense cock hard and aching to bore into her tight cunt and soothe itself.
“We’ve got to get these wet clothes off you right away.”
George started pulling up her top. Several seams strained in his haste to remove it. Alison’s fingers unsuccessfully fought to keep it down. Her gorgeous breasts flopped free and tight stomach appeared as George ultimately succeeded in lifting the piece.
“No, leave alone,” she slurred, clutching the wet garment to her exposed chest as he sat her up and it dangled around her neck.
He grappled it from her. Off Alison’s shoulders and over her arms the top finally came with several hard tugs, George tossing it from the bed. Her arm tremulously crossed over her chest concealing her nipples that had hardened.
George shoved her down. His fingers slid inside the waistbands of both her yoga bottoms and panties and bunched them in his fists. He yanked fiercely. The sodden spandex garments jerked from her hips came down her legs, and reunited with her top somewhere on the floor. Alison lay naked on her back beneath him, arm covering her breasts, hand over her vagina, and shivers so severe the entire bed trembled.
George managed to undress himself while straddling Alison, her body writhing beneath him.
A glimpse in the shadows left Alison doubting her own eyes. His penis could not really be that large.
“This will get you warm.” He grabbed her wrists and wrestled them above her head while resting his naked, muscular body on top of Alison, sinking her into the mattress.
“Get off,” Alison groaned through clenched teeth. Her hands escaped his clutch and ineffectively pushed at his sides while her nipples poked into his chest.
The sensation of his monstrous penis pressing against her, its warmth and hardness reaching above her belly button, confirmed what she saw in the shadows.
Alison’s body thawed from George’s warmth. The powerful pheromone calmed her and allowed her to drowse as he stroked her soft, flowing golden hair.
The fragrance of peppermint shampoo she had used earlier entered his nostrils. He nibbled up her neck inhaling the pleasant aroma and her nipples perked into him more. “That’s it, let me keep you warm,” George whispered.
The flames in the living room fireplace died and illuminance throughout the house dropped. He licked his fingers and reached between her legs.
As the candle in her room dimmed, Alison’s consciousness followed a similar course drifting toward delirium. For brief intervals she hallucinated in the darkness. George became her husband, they shared tender moments and she stopped resisting. George established footholds, extended boundaries, secured concessions, seized additional territory from her.
“Ooh, please,” Alison whimpered as George culled her clitoris from her soft, silky folds and petted her tiny, pink friend — awakening it from dormancy into swollen arousal. Minutes later, realizing he was not her husband, she protested, “No, stop it!” Her fingers dug into George’s wrist and tried unsuccessfully to pull his hand away from her vagina.
“Don’t fight it!” George thundered, viciously twisting her nipples and slapping her face. His strike stunned Alison. He held her down and resumed masturbating her with less opposition.
Her fidgeting subsided and brought him another opportunity. George reached down to her inner thigh and coaxed one leg further from the other. His fingers parted her labia and exposed her pink membranes glistening with secretions. “That’s it, open up for me.”
His face descended to her pussy while his fingers stretched it wide open.
Her warmth touched his face. The divine scent of female recently bathed with expensive soap formed a potpourri that reached his nostrils. He began licking the sweet nectar flowing from her. It washed his taste buds with delicious lust.
Her pelvis undulated briefly.
“Oh God, please don’t,” she cried, suddenly realizing this was not her husband. He never committed sinful sexual acts like cunnilingus. A strange man was performing oral sex on her!
Her hands pushed against George’s nappy head, but his mouth fastened on her pussy.
“Oh, please, oh, …” she cried in stupor.
Her husband was not there to help her, but each time she repeated his name, phantasms of him returned in her mind, replacing the awful reality of George. Her shoves against George’s head diminished in force.
Ultimately, Alison’s resistance completely waned, her hands came to gently rest on George’s scalp allowing him free reign. George greedily ate out her pussy…
She had stopped fighting the oral sex. George continued going down on Alison, her genitalia in his mouth plump with arousal like luscious fruit ripened to pick beneath constant attention from an unrelenting summer sun.
“Ooh, stop it,” she moaned, her hips spiraling in halfhearted attempts to escape his unusual behavior. “Ooh, not there …ah, you shouldn’t… no”
George’s mouth stayed with her gyrations, refusing to release her pussy from pleasurable torture.
Alison briefly wondered about this strange behavior. But it felt good. She became more engaged with it.
The time arrived. The candle flame turned into a tiny bead and the room became almost completely dark. A lightning bolt struck a tall pine tree. It filled all visible space with a blinding glare and silhouetted the conjoined pair on the wall beyond.
George pushed his big fat cock against Alison’s entrance. He wanted to get inside her now, while she remained receptive.
His penis greatly dwarfed her husband’s, and her vagina had difficulty accommodating it. He pushed harder and harder until her soaked vaginal lips — ultra-receptive to stimuli from his oral attentions — stretched open enough, admitting the head of his cock.
“It hurts this time” she cried, finding it increasingly difficult to enunciate words. Her husband’s penis felt different to Alison — bigger. It opened her up with incredible friction she never experienced before.
Her little white pussy was duped into accepting its first black cock.
“Oh, you feel so good,” George exclaimed from the soothing relief of dipping his hard, aching cock into her tight, wet, silky cunt. This was the rich white reward for going to a Christian church and for all his patience, planning and persistence. “It’s okay, I’m in now. I’ll go easy.”
“Ow, no, it really hurts… feels different,” Alison whimpered as George slowly, but steadily, inserted more of his thick length into her. “Take it out,” she bleated as her pussy stretched way beyond dimensions suiting a Caucasian male.
“You’ll get used to it and start loving it soon,” George said, his gargantuan cock barely fitting in her, bottoming out and beginning an unhurried, temporary retreat.
“Don’t, ow, ow — ooh…” Alison began moaning, in synchronization with George’s gentle thrusts — beginning languidly, like the steady, creeping cadence of a car’s windshield wipers set low on a drizzly night.
George’s fleshy cock pulled Alison’s tightly stretched vaginal labia in the direction it travelled.
Beguiled into believing George was her husband, she thought he felt very different tonight. But it been ages since they had sex. Their love life had diminished to nothing since they first married.
Her husband’s penis was now tremendously thicker and longer than she remembered. It took forever going all the way into her — so deeply, filling her completely — then backing almost all the way out. The sensations, unlike any she had ever experienced, became less unpleasant as her anatomy grudgingly adapted to a superiorly endowed partner.
Remembering the reaction in Alison’s nipples from earlier, George began nibbling her neck and worked his way to each of her ears.
“Ooh sweat heart,” Alison gasped, her hands gliding up his muscular back and embracing him.
“Does my Muslim cock feel good in your tight, white kafir pussy?” George locked his lips to hers before she could reply.
Did her ears deceive her? “Muslim cock… white kafir pussy?” Alison wondered. Why would her husband say that to her? He never spoke that way or used those ugly, vulgar words.
“Mmmm,” Alison moaned into his mouth, unworried at first, her hands sliding up to George’s head as they simultaneously fucked and French kissed.
The nappy hair could not be a white man’s — nor the incredible muscles, the gigantic body, and most disturbing of all, the huge piston working inside her. Alison turned her head to get George’s tongue out of her mouth and break their deep kiss.
“Please stop… get off me,” she began to cry in heavy breaths, realizing she was having intercourse with someone else — a black man.
“I can’t stop now, you got me started and I’ve got to finish,” George answered between thrusts.
Alison could not remember how they started fucking like this, but they were zealously “doing it”, which was completely unlike her. Yes, there had been boyfriends that courted her long ago before she wed, but since marriage, she was faithful. She never considered another man — especially a black one.
Slim chance this huge black bull — the way he presently went at her like a jackhammer — was ever going to stop or pull his penis out of her before cumming. Alison realized something even more worrisome than her unfaithfulness. She did not know if George was wearing protection and she was not on any type of birth control. How could she let this happen?
“Please… stop,” Alison murmured. “Married … adultery… pregnant.”
It impressed George how in spite of the pheromone given to her, Alison managed verbalizing her fragmented thoughts. The prospect of impregnating her had a perverse effect on him.
Impregnating a conceited white woman like Alison was an accomplishment, his goal. A pregnancy would permanently bond her to the Black Race and Muslim Faith through a child. It would make her love a perpetual reminder this night.
From previous experience, George knew how well the compound he had given Alison worked in women. It had done an amazing job on George’s immigration official. In a few minutes her cooperation would return with fervor.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take it out before I cum” George reassured her.
His heinous act had progressed too far for too long, felt too good to both of them now and would run its course.
“Ooh,” Alison gasped, his cock sawing in and out, rubbing a sweet spot beneath her clitoris never stimulated through intercourse for her before. It kept distracting her and she was unable to ignore it. Yet Alison failed to understand the connection between the intense sensations she experienced and the size of George’s penis. She never had intercourse with a man even remotely this well-endowed.
They needed to stop, but delirious and on an incredible sexual high, Alison briefly postponed resistance only to succumb again, and becoming completely absorbed performing the sensual act at hand with him.
With Alison’s lucidity lasting no longer than the flashes of lightning, an hour of passionate lovemaking quickly passed. George’s tongue explored every crevice in her mouth, his cock bored into her pussy practically visiting her cervix, and they repeatedly embraced while moaning to each other.
“No, can’t. Isn’t right,” Alison suddenly babbled as she felt another orgasm approach and again recognized that George was fucking her. She remembered how she had wanted to stop George earlier, and she resumed struggling beneath him.
“Shhh, just relax. It’s alright. No one will know and I’m going to take it out of you in a little while.” George calmed. He was intent on making her underfed, white pussy enjoy king sized Muslim cock all night long.
The candle flame that had turned to a blue speck finally burned out. Now in complete darkness, distinguishable sounds filled the room — the splashing of their body fluids mixing, the squeaking of bedsprings announcing his every movement into her, Alison’s moans of despair containing hints of something more, and the incessant howl from the raging hurricane outside.
“Ooh, oh, oh, God please,” Alison mewled. It was too late. She was cumming again. Her pussy was squeezing George’s cock uncontrollably. No words or actions could conceal this physical truth occurring between them.
Perhaps God was watching, but not her’s, He was not going to help her.
“That’s it, that’s what I want. I want you to cum for me more. Show me how much you love me — love Muslim cock,” George goaded as Alison’s fingernails dug into his muscular biceps.
Alison could only moan between heavy breaths in response. How could she do this and how could any decent man refer to this debasing act as love? She could never love any part of him, even if it felt like butterflies in her thighs and abdomen; like driving a car over the crest of a hill in steep descent; like ascending too fast and too high on a swing.
She had never experienced multiple orgasms before, but extra-marital sex was horribly wrong and disgusting, especially with this black man. She despised George for somehow seducing her and her body for betraying her.
Despite Alison’s hatred for George, she could not stop climaxing for him. She was unable to keep track, but George counted her orgasm at least 12 times during her lengthy maiden ride on his big black cock before finally allowing himself to cum.
Alison noticed George’s thrusts accelerating, his bell-end burgeoning within her. He banged into her with greater force and less control. His huge, rippling black muscles grew harder from tension inside him reaching a boiling point. However, in the middle of another mind-blowing orgasm herself, she ignored the warning signs.
“I’m going to cum in your pussy.”
“No — take it out now.”
The inertia was too great, like trying to stop a locomotive. Neither of them did anything to alter their physical course headed toward an explosive collision. Her wet pussy kept welcoming his returning cock with involuntary spasms as if trying to milk it.
Like a geyser, his cock finally obliged her Caucasian pussy, feeding it an abundance of potent African jism.
“Oh, God —” she helplessly fretted beneath him, his penis and her vagina pulsating in unison from stimulating each other. “You’re cumming in me.”
George remained on top of Alison after they finished having sex. Again, Alison hugged him in delirium while minutes passed. She felt his big penis slowly turn flaccid inside her and his copious ejaculate begin oozing out of her overfilled vagina.
“You need to go,” Alison mumbled. Befuddled, her embrace from moments ago transformed into a tired, feeble resistance. She kept trying to push George off her.
George rolled off Alison. His fat, lengthy penis, now slack, finally exited from her with a plop similar to a cork removed from a bottle. “I can’t leave. There’s a hurricane outside, you’re feverish and I need to keep an eye on you.”
Was she sick? Alison recalled not feeling well and being outside in the rain. She still felt very strange and could not remember how they ended up together like this.
George pulled Alison’s hair and shoved her face into his slimy penis. “Now suck my cock,” he growled at her. She had never performed oral sex before. Such a dirty, sinful act — especially with a strange black man — repulsed her. It was horribly wrong, but a combination of pain and stimulation left Alison with no choice.
After receiving oral sex for her first time, Alison was about to learn how to perform it. In darkness, her mouth found George’s slimy shaft dripping with their slippery body fluids.
She wanted to gag at first. It was as nasty as she had anticipated. But soon everything was better. Somehow the flavors and even the repugnant act itself, became less distasteful to Alison the longer she performed it on George. As if by instinct, she started caressing and rolling his big heavy balls in her hand while sucking on his huge black penis.
“That’s it, just like that” George cooed, releasing her hair and guiding her. He corrected her technique a few times and for the next hour, she learned how to pleasure him orally.
George’s cock was so large and hard, Alison’s lips strained around its head. Her hands ran up and down its shaft, as if it was a big, warm club of rigid flesh she held in them. The size of this penis seemed unreal. How did it fit inside her before?
Alison momentarily grasped that this was not her husband. She needed to make George orgasm soon or he would likely fuck her again. That would be worse than the horrible thing she was already doing to him. She did not want his repulsive male organ in her vagina ever again.
George noticed the improvement in Alison’s technique and realized that the white bitch was trying to make him cum so he would not fuck her. Her pussy needed another inoculation of big black cock, he thought.
“That’s good. I’m going to fuck you now.” He pulled her by the hair, the head of his erect penis flopping from her mouth.
“Ow,” Alison squeaked, George getting on top of her. The dreaded sex with a Muslim man was about to resume in spite of her best efforts.
“No, I don’t want to fuck again,” she blurted with slurred speech. Alison never used that four-letter word, not ever.
“Once more. I promise it’ll be real quick this time.”
“No, please don’t,” she whimpered, George’s gigantic charcoal cock re-entering her. The snug discomfort returned briefly, but then primitive pleasure began supplanting it.
Although Alison fought the primal urge George replanted inside her, it grew anyway.
Her hands tightly gripped his strong shoulders. Her resistance weakened, her pelvis started imitating George’s motions, and her body began copulating with him again — the way nature intended.
“That’s it, you’re fucking a Muslim now,” he reminded her. Oh, yea, your little white pussy feels so fine.”
“No, I don’t want to. Ooh, I can’t. Ah, ah, ooh…”
An early morning achromatic light from an overcast sky crept in and gave the room a heavenly aura. Although Alison had resisted, last night had been easy for George to get into her panties, introduce her pussy to Muslim cock and begin planting a preference for it in her.
He held her beneath his arm as she slept soundly, and in the light, he appreciated her delicate Caucasian facial features and her incredible female figure. She was still nude and his eyes feasted on her flawless body. He had taken another Christian wife, this lovely white woman last night.
The house was silent without power. Their only warmth greater than the tropical humidity.
How fatuous her husband had been with such an innocent, virtuous and gorgeous woman. He carelessly left his beautiful wife unprotected and isolated — an easy target. George thought the fool’s priorities were all wrong.
With her husband gone, she was now George’s reluctant new partner. Not only was her going to impregnate her, George planned to make her rehearse lessons of adulterous self-indulgence with him — masturbation, oral sex and fucking a big black Muslim cock in multiple positions. She was now of his right hand. He would make her have sex with him until he turned into a difficult habit for her to break.
Alison’s eyes fluttered open in the late afternoon from a sleep so deep she was unsure of the day or her location at first. Her mind was blank to the preceding evening. George Ikechi was in her bed.
They were both naked, his arm around her, his hand cupping her breast. In a daze, she watched his black fingers play with her stiff nipple, as pink and firm between them as an eraser on the end of a pencil — twirling it around and keeping it erect. “Mmmm,” she mumbled dreamily, taking no action to stop him, initially.
After a few minutes, she realized this was no dream, but reality. “Oh my God, what are you doing here?” Alison asked confusedly, trying to move his arm from her chest. “Get off me and get out of my bed!”
George always enjoyed this special moment when the pheromone started wearing off and lucidity began returning, each woman reacting differently to her apparent promiscuous behavior the preceding night.
“Wait a minute,” George blasted refusing to budge. “You invited me to stay with you because of the hurricane, don’t you remember? You became feverish and ran outside.
“I found you in the rain, soaked and suffering hypothermia. I saved your life by bringing you inside, taking your wet clothes off and warming you. We both got carried away — you as much as me. Now you’re treating me badly and blaming me for something you wanted?”
Alison remembered only fragments of the previous evening through the foggy haze filling her brain: speaking with George, feeling nauseous, being outside — but most disturbing, his huge black penis and repeated intercourse with him. She could not recollect when or how the sex began, but horribly graphic visions of their nightlong intimacy replayed in her mind like glimpses of hardcore adult video clips featuring the two of them.
Alison sat up in the bed and brought her hand over her eyes in embarrassment and disbelief. She never did anything like this before. She was married. How could she do this with another man — a strange black man? She did not even find black men attractive.
Alison prayed George had used condoms with her, and reached down under the blanket. Her fingers found what she feared: the crusty residue of his dried semen all over her body — on her tits and stomach and most alarming of all, in her tiny patch of neatly trimmed pubic hair. She silently wondered in horror how many times she committed adultery with him during the night.
George curiously waited for Alison’s response. How much did she remember from yesterday evening and did she believe the half-lies he told her? Would she figure out he had slipped her a pheromone? She scooted over creating distance between them and pulled more of the blanket around herself.
“You need to leave now.”
“You’re still feverish. I’m not leaving you in this weather. Besides, I don’t want to end our relationship,” he replied with a grin. He was determined to finish cultivating the latent preference for Muslim cocks in her he knew all white women possessed. With enough grooming Alison would acquire a ferocious appetite. He had seen it occur many times before in Europe on his way to America. “My cock is hard again and needs more relief.”
Alison could not believe what George just said to her — speaking that way with such vulgarity. He hardly knew her and she was not some floozy. He was not going to ‘relieve’ his nasty, black cock with her — ever. “We don’t have a relationship and I can promise we are never having sex again. What we did last night was shameful and wrong. I’m married and you took advantage of me.”
Alison emerged from the bed. With the sheet wrapped around her she headed toward the chiffonier for clothes to wear.
She noticed her wet yoga bottoms and torn panties wadded together on the floor, and her yoga top, with open seams, a distance away.
Alison tried clearing her head, but had difficulty thinking. She did not feel well. Did this disgusting man tear the garments off her, haphazardly toss them and force himself on her? Or did they have consensual sex?
She could not remember what happened between them last night, but what explained the torn panties and her clothes strewn about the room this way?
None of this made any sense to Alison. Where was her phone? She needed to find her phone.
Alison’s contemptuousness angered George. He needed to distract her before her scattered thoughts cleared. With her cognitive abilities still impaired, it was the best moment to make his move.
He sprung from the bed and jerked the sheet off her as she rummaged through her dresser with her back toward him.
Stripped of her protective covering, Alison whipped around and glowered at George a moment. “Get out of my house now,” she blustered as they stood facing each other nude.
His eyes raked her perfectly curved body the same way they did when he first met her in church, but this time her lack of clothing left her completely exposed to his devouring stare. He took in all her abundant beauty — nicely toned muscles beneath smooth, unblemished skin, perfect face and liquid blue eyes.
A moment passed before Alison realized their nakedness and her vulnerability, her eyes wandering down his flat stomach with its ripped abs and then descending lower to his impossible manhood.
George’s grotesquely large penis had actually been inside her. It sickened her to look at it hanging from him like a monument. He belonged in a freak show. How could something that huge be human or fit inside any woman? It was as large as a horse’s cock.
She gaped in disbelief and could not take her eyes off his penis. It was not even erect and it looked so big. How did she possibly have intercourse with him last night?
Alison did not know it yet, but she was not contacting anyone else because the phone lines and cell networks were down. And she was not going anywhere either — except back in bed for another training session — because the road was washed out and the parts that weren’t were covered in downed trees.
From the back of her head, he twisted her beautiful flaxen hair in his fist and pulled tightly, causing her head to tilt backwards as his other hand squeezed her neck.
“I see you looking at my cock, girl, but I don’t think you understand the seriousness of our relationship,” George spit into her terrified eyes. “You should have thought about things before you came on to me last night — told me how lonely you were and how much you wanted me. You loved it. You came like crazy on my big black cock. You don’t get to abruptly end things with me now because you got what you wanted and feel like it. I’ll decide when our little affair is over, and it won’t be anytime soon. I think you’re a stuck up white bitch that likes to tease and use immigrant men for their entertainment.”
He temporarily released her neck and slapped her face. “Do I have your attention?”
His strike caused Alison to see streaks of light, as she stood stunned. “You started this relationship. Do you want to fuck your Muslim some more?” he sadistically asked forcing her head to nod in reply. “Of course you do. Good Christian girl — you’re going to learn quickly to like having Muslim cock stuffing your tight white kafir pussy,” he answered.
It felt like her scalp tore open as he towed her by the hair across the room. His other hand returned around her neck and restricted her breathing. She clawed her throat for precious air as he steered her to the bed.
Obtaining air became Alison’s primary concern. After he released her throat, she wheezed in the bed to catch her breath as he parted her legs.
George eagerly inspected her beautiful pussy in daylight. Its intricate folds and coloration were obscured by shadow the previous night.
Aside from a very thin patch of trimmed blonde pubic hair, her vagina was completely bald. He ran his fingers through her soft labia and spread them, revealing a delightful pink matching her nipples — and her most sensual part, there for her to experience his touch.
Delicately, he culled her clitoris.
Alison closed her legs cutting off George’s access to her special spot.
“Keep your legs open,” he furiously roared, slapping her thighs until they glowed red and spread for him again.
He straddled Alison with his back towards her face and her thigh tucked in his arm to prevent it from re-closing. He played with her pussy.
“No,” Alison managed hoarsely spitting out while slapping at his back with absolutely no effect. She fell on her pillow frustrated while he continued manipulating her clitoris. “No, please stop it,” she cried shaking her head side to side.
Her clitoris slowly enlarged in his fingers and a soppy, slippery sheen that came from her moistening vagina coated it. She was still sobbing, although attenuated tears, as he plied her clitoris bringing out its sensuous poignancy for her. “Shush, shush, shush, this isn’t hurting you,” he repeated as if trying to soothe a baby.
“Please, stop touching it,” Alison whimpered.
A subtle undulation in her pelvis lasting only a second indicated that her desire was awakening and beginning to give him control. He stimulated her more, piqued her pussy’s interest with teasing sensations.
“You want me to stop touching it?” George inquired as the involuntary undulations in her hips gradually increased in frequency and force from his unrelenting strokes. “That’s right. It’s going to feel good even if you don’t want it to.”
She hated him for making her body do this; hated her husband for leaving her alone, hated herself for gullibly allowing George into her house to seduce her last night, and most of all hated her body for betraying her.
George stopped masturbating Alison and changed position.
“What are you doing?” Alison stupidly asked. He faced her with a colossal erection and spread her legs again. Her eyes took in his big muscles bulging beneath the smooth black skin in his arms, chest and stomach before landing on his incredibly large penis. It looked like a lengthy tree trunk with a humongous ball sac pendulously hanging beneath it.
George heard little of what Alison said, answering with silence and a smile as he climbed between her legs and lined up his cock with her opening.
“No, please. I-I-I can’t do that with you again. It’s wrong. I’m married and I’m not taking birth control.”
Because of her husband’s low sperm count and lack of sex, Alison didn’t need birth control. Unfortunately, George rose to the occasion.
“You were married last night and it wasn’t wrong then. Don’t worry, I’ll take it out before I cum.” The brown bulbous head of his penis adjoined her moist pink opening and high voltage sparked as their genitals touched.
Alison’s memory was Swiss Cheese. The numerous times George had already filled her pussy with potent sperm after promising to withdraw were part of the many holes in her recollection. She only vaguely remembered last night and their repeated intercourse as glimpses at someone else’s perverse intimacy and not her own.
Alison panicked anyway. She had to say something to stop him. “N-n-no, please, George, I’ll do anything else. You’re too big for me.”
“Sorry, nothing else will do. I wasn’t too big for you last night. Once you got used to my Muslim cock, you loved it. You kept saying how good it felt. You’re gonna get used to it again because I’ve got to have your pussy some more.”
“Put on a condom then…”
Alison could not believe the words leaving her mouth. She had to say something, but did she actually just ask him to wear a condom for her? How little that would do to make this better and how ridiculous it sounded. She had just consented to have sex with him again if only he wore a condom. How easily she broke her marital vows, she thought.
She was a married Christian woman and sex with anyone besides her husband was adultery. She would never consent to having intercourse with him, but had she already done so and just did again.
“I don’t have any; never use them. It’s not as intimate wearing them. Besides, don’t you remember telling me last night how good my cock felt in your pussy without a rubber? You said you didn’t care that I wasn’t wearing one — that it felt better that way. I want us to feel the intimacy of each other again.”
Even the straws Alison tried grasping remained out of her reach. George’s words sunk into her brain, for a second sounding vaguely familiar. Did she really say all those things to him last night?
Her eyes opened widely staring fearfully into his; her mouth gaped in disbelief and her hands tightly gripped his broad shoulders as if bracing for a horrific auto accident. He was pushing into her and all Alison could think about was if by some remote chance were condoms somewhere in the house for this black Muslim to use with her.
It was too late for condoms, her hope futile. Her slick vaginal membranes, populated with receptive nerves, announced the humongous unsheathed intruder stretching them, snugly yet smoothly sliding against them.
To her chagrin, Alison felt George’s enormous black cock, in its entirety, completely open her the way he wanted — without any barrier protection. With her hands still uselessly gripping his shoulders, she kept her elbows locked to prevent him from settling on top of her.
George’s weight grew heavier the longer she held him off. Her arms became fatigued.
With George coming to rest on top of her, Alison’s hands finally abandoned his shoulders and franticly sought a strategic place to push him away. The search proved fruitless as he drilled further into her.
“Oh, yea, your tight white pussy feels so good.” George had acquired a throbbing erection while masturbating Alison, which her silky cunt was now soothing for him.
Alison did not want to believe he was inside her, that a black Muslim man with an absurdly large penis was fucking her — again. Her contempt grew especially for her husband. If she became pregnant with George’s child it would be her husband’s fault for leaving her alone and vulnerable. He had failed in his duty and let this happen to her.
“Oh, oh, no,” she softly cried each time his huge black dick sunk back into her.
Her pussy stretched for George’s cock. His thrusts pulled its labia in and out, giving her a combination of fading discomfort and piercing pleasure unlike anything she had experienced with any white man. Was this why she had sex with him multiple times last night? This was all wrong. She hated what George was doing to her. Why was it starting to feel good? “No, George, take it out now,” she pleaded. “Please take it out of me.”
“In a little while, after you cum for me.”
He repulsed her, expecting her to orgasm for him on top of everything else. Alison refused to go that far but found herself dragged there anyway — his long, fat cock rubbing so many sensual nerves in her vagina, including the extra sensitive sweet spot underneath her clitoris, as he fucked her.
“I can’t,” Alison cried in confusion, her blue eyes glassy with tears. She hated him, hated Muslims, hated blacks; It was an odd moment for her to admit her racism and she wanted his cock out of her, but it kept feeling better…
“No, George, you said you would take it out now,” she mewled, her nipples poking into his chest, her pussy squeezing his cock, her hands gliding up his muscular back. Caught in multiple orgasms, she seemed to forget her opposition and repulsion and even thrusted back just a little.
The bed squeaked rapidly and loudly enough to be heard throughout the house. At times Alison’s cries seemed almost like erotic moans that increased in volume. Fortunately, no one was present for this sordid chorus. “Ooh, ah, ah, oh, nah, ooh, no George. Please take it out of me.”
“I’ll take it out in a little while. Don’t worry.” He started gently nibbling her neck, working his way to her ear.
He held her head tightly, preventing her from turning away, and his tongue barged into her mouth.
“Mm mph,” Alison tried protesting. His big black Muslim cock relentlessly pumped into her — and then his warm semen flooded her pussy once more…
Alison spent the entire day with George, mostly in her bed. Presently underneath him again in the missionary position.
Without pheromone, the full horror of what she actually doing with him became increasingly clearer. How did she allow this to happen?
Alison’s memory refused to cooperate. When and how they became intimate remained stubbornly absent from her recollection.
“I’m gonna cum”
She lost count how many times the disgusting animal had already made this exact same announcement and ejaculated inside her. “Oh God, take it out this time! Don’t cum in me again.”
The weight of George’s gigantic muscular body unexpectedly lifted off her. She looked down between her legs and watched his long, fat penis pull completely out of her vagina. His cock was soaking wet.
He did not cum inside her this time. She felt relieved and strangely grateful to him.
George straddled her, holding his hard black dick in his hand like a heavy piece of iron pipe and jerking on it. She had not seen a man do this and could not stop watching.
His horrible penis suddenly spit at her, warm, slimy cum unexpectedly shooting into her hair, her eye and on her lips before her hands shielded her face from additional spurts. She felt his goo continue showering her breasts and land in her belly button.
The sperm shower ended. Alison lowered her hands from her face while he rubbed her nipples and tits with his slippery semen. She had never seen so much ejaculate before. His thumb scooped out the puddle of spunk filling her belly button.
“Open your mouth.”
“No, please — it’s disgusting,” she cried, her eyes red, puffy and overflowing with tears.
“You didn’t want me to cum in your pussy. Open your mouth.”
A glob of George’s semen glistened on his thumb. Sore and exhausted from uselessly fighting him all day, Alison allowed him to put it in her mouth.
“That’s right, enjoy and swallow.”
Her face looked like it was going to break from revulsion as she obeyed his directions. His spunk was like an oyster on her tongue.
He wiped up jism remaining on Alison’s face with his fingers and fed all of it to her.
“That’s a good girl. You gonna learn to take it all.”
Hours had turned to days and rain still fell outside. George and Alison sat naked on the sofa.
The power hadn’t returned. They had run out of wood, but until now all Alison ate was body fluids — that Alison desperately tried to avoid exchanging with him.
“I want my phone back,” Alison commented almost emotionlessly as she sat in the nude with his arm around her shoulders staring at the dark fireplace as if there were flames in it.
Faint bruises covered her breasts where he had pinched them and her buttocks where he had spanked her.
“The lines are still down. Who do you want to call?” George asked.
Alison looked down, “No one, I just want it back.”
“I’ll give it back to you later. Now suck on my cock some more.”
She turned and glared at him belligerently as his hand reached up behind her neck.
“No, I don’t want to do that again.”
“Yes you do. You Christian girls can’t get enough Muslim cock.”
Her head shimmied as she tried holding back and he pulled her towards him. She hated oral sex. It was sinful, perverted and disgusting. Yet over the past three days they had performed it on each other multiple times daily.
“Don’t fight it,” George said as he pushed her face into his lap. This was the third time giving him oral sex today.
“Now take it in your mouth and suck it like you love it,” he coached, irritated by her hesitation and determined to completely break her of it.
She did not want to do this again but did not want another spanking either, so she took George’s flaccid cock — still unbelievably large — in her mouth and began sucking.
“That’s better,” he said looking down at her blond hair and easing up on the force he had been applying. He held her head and began gently rubbing her smooth back with his other hand.
“You see how much better it is? How nice it is to suck on a Muslim cock? I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll love you and treat you nice if you treat me nice.”
“Uh-huh,” Alison moaned, her mouth filled with his cock again. She loathed him and his disgusting phallus. She would never enjoy sucking on it.
Like a flag on a pole, her head rose higher as his organ enlarged and hardened, ultimately its glans barely fitting in her mouth and making her cheek bulge. The side of her face soon rested above his stomach near his chest.
Her hands held his towering penis at its base while she ran her tongue and lips along its shaft — licked its smooth, sensitive helmet the way he had taught her. Forced for days to suck his cock, and harshly corrected when she sometimes did it incorrectly, she became increasingly better at something she supposedly did not like.
She gently rolled his big heavy balls, which felt warm and soft, in her fingers. The sound of her lips smacking together, like someone impolitely eating with their mouth open, filled the room.
“Make sure you swallow all of it this time,” George warned. “Don’t waste any of it.”
She followed his cue, put her lips around the glans of his penis again, and pumped its shaft.
“That’s it, good girl — like you love it,” he reminded her.
“Oh, yea, doesn’t that taste good?” George asked as Alison pumped his penis while gulping down more disgusting cream spurting from it.
“Mhmm,” she moaned working his colossal black shaft with her hand, the head of his cock still in her mouth. She had to milk and swallow every last drop from him before stopping.
When he finished she retreated to the other end of the sofa, the taste of his semen lingering in her mouth. She did not understand how he could make so much jism. He had already fed her his cum twice this morning and she swallowed several more mouthfuls now.
Alison wondered how a man could be this virile, produce so much semen and practically not need a refractory period.
Drinking George’s testosterone-filled semen for days changed Alison, but she failed to notice it. Although she resisted, the taste was slowly becoming more tolerable, and the act of performing oral sex on him less revolting to her.
George rose from the couch. Alison’s eyes raked his black muscular body towering over her, landing on his thick, long flaccid cock, now temporarily satiated, hanging pendulously in front of her.
She hoped and prayed for a moments reprieve. Her prayers ignored as if her God had abandoned her, Alison remained silent. A different entity seemed in control, rewarding George.
George sat beside her on the sofa and she glanced at his horrendously large penis. He had acquired another erection and it was big and hard again — like a huge over-ripe plantain. How could he keep going like this? He could not be human, she thought.
He suddenly grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh.
“No, let me go!” Alison yelped.
“We’re not finished yet. Get on my lap,” George growled, jerking her to him.
She knew what he wanted — he had made her do it to him like this previously — and it was so degrading.
When she resisted him before, however, he hit her and then fucked her hard for an extra long time. Fighting him again would only mean more pain and eventual physical pleasure.
She realized it would be better to just do this with him now; get to the physical pleasure. Even though she did not want to have more intercourse with him, there was really no way of avoiding it.
She thought she was out of tears, but she began crying anyway as she straddled him. “Please don’t make me do it to you again.”
“But you’re getting really good at it,” he callously replied.
“no …. Please, the other way” as her hands gripped George’s shoulders.
George wrapped his arm around her petite waist, reached down and fumbled with his gigantic charcoal penis as if it was the wrong key he tried fitting into a lock — her lock where it absolutely did not belong.
Finally, the head of his behemoth cock found her pink, wet slit. She felt him parting her lips —slipping his cock inside her.
“Why are you making me do this?” Alison wept in frustration with this black Muslim man’s insanely large penis entering her vagina again. How long would this monster continue tormenting her?
George left her question unanswered and calmly stated. “We’ve done it this way before and you know what to do.” His hands on her firm buttocks slowly guided them downward.
“Ow, ow,” Alison groaned, his huge black cock sliding further into her — the tumblers of her lock once again conforming for his wrong key. Even after three days of frequent intercourse with him, she still felt his penis opening her, filling her — and her pussy stretching to accommodate it.
“Nice and easy,” George cooed. “That’s it — you’ll get used to it again soon and love it.”
He sickened her. He was not her husband and she did not want to get used to it again or love it. Warm, salty tears running down her face landed on George’s shoulder and muscular chest, like the first drops of a summer shower.
With his assistance, she slowly began moving her pussy up and down his cock while weeping. ” please stop making me do this with you. It’s wrong. I’m married and I can’t commit adultery.”
“Shush, it’s not that bad. I can tell you’re starting to like it. You’re getting so wet, Oh, yeah, that feels incredible.”
Her tears subsided but she still loathed him. She hated having his abnormally huge cock inside her and giving it pleasure. Worst of all, she despised the pleasure his obscenely big penis began giving her.
She was indeed growing use to it again just as George had predicted, and began acquiring rhythm in spite of her hatred for him. More and more, with momentum building, she found herself unable to stop riding him.
She rose up intent on dismounting his long, fat penis — yet each time, not quite far enough. His thick, lengthy meat, imbedded deeply inside her, was a hurdle too high to overcome.
Instead of dismounting his skyscraper of masculinity, each time she kept sliding back down it instead, taking all of him back inside her.
“Doesn’t that big black Muslim cock feel good now?” George asked.
Its depth inside her left Alison speechless and her mouth gaping. While she reluctantly fucked him, she bitterly stared into his cold, dark eyes that looked like obsidian, and briefly noticed they reflected her defenseless white figure in ecstasy.
She abhorred doing this with George. But he forced her to betray her husband, her vows of faithfulness, and join to him. He made her surrender physical intimacy that bordered her soul, sensations that actually touched it, and she detested him for it. Yet her body was giving him a much different response.
“Uh, ah, ah, oh, ah, ah,” she mewled. Her arms reached around his neck for further support and she pulled close against him. Her pink pussy travelled up and down his dark black dick it made wet and shiny like a dipstick removed from motor oil.
“That’s it, Alison, stop trying to fight it,” George encouraged, lovingly encompassing her smooth, white body in his black, muscular arms as she fucked him. “You see how good big black Muslim cock feels inside you?”
“Oh, God” she cried turning her head to the side in embarrassment to avoid his eyes and her reflection. Her hold around his neck involuntarily tightened, her pussy began to spasm and an obnoxious grin formed on his face. Without guile or trickery, he possessed her.
Her taut wet cunt gracefully slid up and down on his thick, dark shaft in a steady, uninterrupted tempo — almost like that of a metronome — hardly requiring his oversight.
“Oh, you feel so good. You’re so tight and silky.”
” Ooh, ah, uh, nah, oh.”
“That’s, it Alison. Keep working your pussy like that. Oh yeah, I love how it feels inside you.”
He was a sick, perverted animal, Alison thought. She hated him, yet he was inside her. She had always been faithful until George tore that precious fidelity away from her like a heartless thief.
At this moment, she loved hearing him say her name. It was a gratifying reward while this demented black Muslim forced her to experience every single inch of his monster penis visiting uncharted depths of her womanhood.
The truth was horrible. George had stolen far more intimacy from her in their short time together than she had ever shared with anyone before. George’s horrendous cock caused such intense physical feelings deep inside her she did not welcome from him yet was powerless to stop.
“Oh,” Alison softly moaned, involuntarily hugging him even tighter, her soft firm breasts pressing harder against his chest while she fucked him.
“Oh, yeah, See how much your pussy wants that big black Muslim cock now?”
“Oh, God, please” Alison cried in an almost thankful tone, unable to stop committing this disgusting, immoral act on him.
How could her body betray her like this? Her hips stuck on autopilot repeated the perverted dance with him. Her pussy enthusiastically lubricated his black cock and seemed to welcome the colossal Muslim invader more affectionately than her own husband’s penis.
She was an arrogant, high-class white bitch who grew less inclined to ever seek help with each orgasm he gave to her, George thought. She was the type of white woman he enjoyed bringing down by making her fuck big black Muslim dick repeatedly, instilling in her an insidious appetite for well-hung dark meat.
She felt dirty and ashamed when they finally finished fucking. George rose from the sofa and went to his backpack to retrieve both her car keys and phone.
“Here you go,” he said with a confident smile handing her phone and keys back. “You can have them now.”
Naked and holding her legs tightly together in a moot attempt at modesty, Alison sat on the sofa and silently stared at the items in her hand.
The roads were washed out, so where would she drive? The phones were down and did not work anywhere. Besides George kept the charger and she could not get outside without drawing his attention anyway. Had he really given her anything?
And even if she could get outside without George noticing, whom would she call, where would she go and what would she say? This was a small southern town where everyone talked about each other. They would all learn every flagitious detail of what George did to her and what he made her do to him. She would become the ruinous subject of malicious gossip.
What would her husband think of her if he ever learned of all the disgusting things she did with this black man and how much she came on his big penis?
What George was doing to her was awful, but the embarrassment of other’s knowing would be far worse. Fear and shame led Alison to inaction and her further spiral downward.
The rain outside was waning. Her bruises from not cooperating those first days started fading with her improved compliance. Alison began finding George less unpleasant and her situation with him more bearable.
Although she still eagerly waited for the rain to completely stop so he would leave, her anticipation for George’s departure lost some of its desperation. He couldn’t leave when the weather cleared anyway because the roads are out.
George knew the longer a “nice” girl practiced a vice with someone, the less distasteful it became for her — even in the case of a young, faithful wife like Alison.
This was all part of his plan. The more he made Alison commit adultery with him — increasing the salaciousness of their sex acts each time — the more comfortable she became doing it. Stranded together and with her husband away, George had the opportunity and time that he needed to work on her.
It was an unusually long after hurricane passed for the rain to stop. Meanwhile, the consequences of Alison’s failure to seek help and escape George’s molestations multiplied, the sex with him becoming progressively more depraved and her thoughts of her husband more infrequent.
George’s constant pursuit of physical gratification with Alison left her with minimal concentration for anything else. Today the sky stayed cloudy and the day gloomy with rain, but Alison had little time to notice the weather outside.
She slipped from their bed late this morning while George apparently slept. Exhausted, Alison wandered into her shadowy kitchen wearing panties and a bra. George had allowed her to partially dress but kept her awake most of the night having all kinds of sex, as he had done with her every night for the past week.
Severe sleep deprivation made her thoughts as cloudy as the weather outside and she was unaware of George’s presence behind her.
George had quietly followed Alison, admiring her shapely ass and how sexy her sleek body appeared in undergarments.
Suddenly his arm wrapped around her narrow waist and Alison realized the short time away from him was already over. She turned around.
George observed how tired she looked, how successfully he had worn her down. But more work remained for him to perform on her. “What you doing here, Alison? Why did you leave me all alone in the bed?”
Alison silently stared back at George somewhat dazed. He was naked and held her securely in his arms. His hard cock jabbed her stomach. She realized what he wanted and tried pulling away from his hug, but her firm ass bumped into the table behind her.
“Come on, let’s get these panties and bra off you. You know how hard my cock is when I wake up in the morning. You gotta help relieve it for me.”
“No, I don’t want to do it anymore with you.”
Their sex yesterday lasted all night and seemed to stop only a short while ago, yet George was already hard and starting with her again. Her hands pushed against solid muscles bulging from his chest, and she arched backward over the table trying to escape his embrace. The head of his huge black penis still stabbed her tummy like the end of a hot poker.
His arm stayed fastened around her thin waist while his other hand slid into the front of her panties and pulled them downward.
“No, not here, George.”
“Yes. You know how much you like cumming on Muslim cock. It’s gonna feel so good for you. Don’t start fighting it again.”
She struggled some, but with a little effort her bra and panties came off anyway.
“No, I really don’t like doing it with you. Stop it.”
He lifted her up, set her on the edge of the table and pushed her legs open.
Reclined on her elbows, she looked up at him and desperately searched his lust-filled eyes for a spark of compassion. His stare remained transfixed on the lower part of her body though, and she felt his fingers spreading her delicate lips. Embarrassingly, her vagina had already moistened for him.
“Your pussy be dripping wet for more Muslim cock.”
“Yes, We are gonna give this pretty pussy of yours what it wants and make it feel real good some more. You’re saying ‘no’ right now, but you gonna be loving this Muslim cock again in no time.”
“No, I don’t want that anymore!”
Yes you do, Quit lying.”
George knew the clitoris was an Achille’s Heel for women, and he knew how to exploit it. While much smaller than a penis, its enormous concentration of nerves was capable of producing such intense pleasure for females that it usurped their freewill.
Alison was female and he knew how to gain her reluctant cooperation. It would only take a few moments to make her ‘no’ mean ‘yes’ again.
His thumb paid special tribute to her clitoris — attention he knew her sensitive little organ grew particularly fond to from previous responses. And he slowly returned his gigantic penis into her snug vagina. He disregarded her protests, like she was a longtime girlfriend that belonged to him.
After all, it was time for her feeding again — more grade ‘A’ black Muslim cock for her fine Caucasian pussy while he worked her love button to really spice things up for her. For some white kafir women like Alison, preference for king-size chocolate penis was a taste they acquired stubbornly and slowly.
But Alison’s tiny vagina experienced his humongous cock more like brown sugar on the tongue each time he fucked her. Although she truly did not want to like it, George began cultivating a sweet tooth between her legs for the huge hunk of dark meat he kept giving to her.
She absolutely did not want any more sex. But he was doing it to her again anyway, this time on the edge of her kitchen table. His cock began the long, leisurely journey deep into her birth canal while his thumb maintained a tight orbit around her clit.
“No, George — I said stop it — not here.”
“Oh, yes, right here. You want this. I love putting my hard cock in your tight pussy. Doesn’t that feel good going inside you? You starting to like big black Muslim cock?”
The intense sensations began to hijack Alison’s thoughts — his penis going so deeply inside her, his thumb’s narrow course softly brushing her clitoris. He kept asking her if it felt good, if she liked black cock — coaching her to perform horribly filthy things non-stop.
But yes, it felt good to Alison — too good. Could that mean she loved it and loved him? She experienced more guilt and confusion. George did lewder things to her each day, that caused her body to involuntarily respond and humiliatingly orgasm for him.
Her elbows hesitantly collapsed beneath her, placing Alison completely on her back. Why was she even thinking this way? She detested him and everything he did to her.
A long serrated meat knife sitting on the counter just a couple of feet away from Alison had tempted her, but she lacked the fortitude to grab it and stab George.
She briefly thought about sinking that knife right into George’s gut, but a power he possessed over her grew stronger and became harder to fight the longer they stayed together.
His thumb and penis working in concert kept monopolizing her attention, drawing her thoughts away from the knife and quickly focusing them on George’s activity between her legs that upstaged everything else.
What a lovely scene, George thought. He triumphantly watched this gorgeous white woman, reluctantly lying before him on her kitchen table, taking his beefy black cock in her pussy and arching her back in surrender while his thumb mercilessly stroked her increasingly receptive clit. Married and typical of her race, she was once too proud and haughty to be with the likes of him, but not any longer.
“That feeling good, now, Alison? Let’s see how hard we can make you cum.”
“Ooh, don’t — ooo.”
All she could do was pitifully moan, lying on her back on her kitchen table, crying out from powerful orgasms she was unable to stop him from giving her. His monster-sized penis burrowed deeply and unrelentingly inside her, his dark gorilla hands began groping her perky snowy white tits, and his fingers teased her taut pink nipples.
The old wooden table Alison lied upon squeaked its disapproval of her inaction each time George drove into her.
“Ooh, oh, no, George. Ah, ooh, please stop… — no, ah, ooh, ah, oh.”
“Oh, Alison, your pussy feels so good. Stop denying it. You’re liking big black Muslim cock more each time we do it.”
Alison sensed the growing tension in George’s body. Regretfully, they had fucked so many times in the short period they had been rained in together that they were becoming familiar sex partners. She recognized all his signs — the change in his voice, the acceleration of his thrusts, the intensity in his face and how his hands touched her.
“Uh, ah, please… no, George. Oh, ah, Don’t cum in me again — ooh.”
“Oh, yeah, I can’t stop. You feel too good — I feel your pussy throbbing on my cock. I’m gonna cum too. My seed belongs in you.”
George released the explosive orgasm he had been holding back while taunting Alison, the rich and plentiful cream from his huge heavy balls nourishing her wet, receptive cunt.
Alison’s legs had locked around his ass, contradicting her pleas to stop, couldn’t allow George to exit even if he wanted as they jointly orgasmed.
She suddenly realized what her body was doing with him. He was not her husband and a loathing she always experienced when receiving his seed washed over her again.
He had no right touching her vagina, putting his penis inside it or filling her with his semen, yet he kept doing it. She felt his long, hefty organ finally pull out of her tight cunt.
George stood at the edge of the table between her spread legs.
They were finished having sex — at least for a little while, Alison mistakenly thought, relieved it was temporarily over. She started to sit up, but George’s strong hand landed on her chest and stopped her.
“We ain’t done yet, Alison,” he said. It was an unwelcome phrase she hated, yet heard from him often.
“But you just came in me,” she complained while reclining on her elbows and breathing heavily. His hand stayed on her chest, preventing her from sitting upright. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
She wanted to get off that kitchen table — an unsanitary, stomach-churning place to have sex, she thought — and wash his vile, Muslim cum out of her vagina as quickly as possible. As usual, the quantity of semen he ejaculated for her corresponded with the enormity of his testicles and penis.
George did not reply, absorbed momentarily studying her beautiful clitoris, now a darker pink than usual and engorged. His brown wet dick, resting on her light skin beside her pussy, was still firm and almost reached her sexy bellybutton.
Alison felt the warmth and wetness of his heavy penis on her stomach.
George thought her clitoris deserved more attention and began rubbing it with the slippery head of his penis, gently sliding his cock up and down along her sensitive, swollen hood.
Alison looked down at what felt even nicer than all the other vulgar things he had done to her recently, and watched, unable to take her eyes off this revolting sight that appeared to her so much uglier than it felt.
Between her splayed legs the smooth brown head of his penis kept nudging her excited pink clitoris, both organs wet and glistening, heavily covered in a messy combination of their secretions from intercourse. George had coaxed her completely open for him during their sex, and she remained that way now.
“Oh, God, what are you doing? You just finished — y-you came in me already.”
She tried looking back up into George’s eyes, the clit massage having the desired effect, her face contorting as she stared at him.
He was engrossed with her vagina again and did not return her gaze.
George watched her pussy squirm beneath him trying to avoid the sensual contact with his penis, but he was unrelenting. He grabbed her hips, pulling her back to the very edge of the table and next to him. He held his hardening cock against her tumescent clitoris following its every move, sliding himself up and down, indulging her sensitive female flesh with his own, much larger, male version of it.
He watched her pussy’s efforts to escape this continued touch from his penis slowly wan.
She hated herself for having orgasms with him before and did not want them again. Her hand arrived on his strong rippling abs and pushed at them. The diamonds in her wedding ring brilliantly sparkled against his dark skin.
“Stop it. Stop it, “ she repeated unconvincingly while her clitoris took it all in and sent repeated signals of intense pleasure to her brain.
He had already demonstrated on numerous occasions that he could do whatever he wanted with her. Her hand finally gave up pushing against his hard-muscular stomach and settled on her soft inner thigh that had remained open for him. She surrendered and lay back down on the table.
“That’s good, Alison. Don’t resist it anymore. It won’t help you any. Just let that fine little pussy feel good now — it’s gonna feel real nice whether you want it to or not.”
Alison’s defeat was George’s victory. Her left hand stayed on her opened inner thigh. Her wedding ring still glinted, unaffected by the terrible infidelity occurring beside them that rendered their symbolism completely meaningless:
Her sacred vagina abandoning final attempts to avoid contact with his hard cock began small graceful undulations with it instead, traitorously exchanging delightful sensations with this black Muslim’s penis in betrayal of her once honored wedding vows.
George took cruel delight prodding her excited clitoris more with his cock and causing her pelvis to involuntarily respond with ever greater coital gestures. Her hips increasingly moved with the beauty of an exotic dancer. “Does it feel good now, Alison?”
George’s cock and Alison’s pussy began speaking an identical language, saying similar things to each other. It was not the first time her body communicated with his like this.
Alison still stubbornly refused to verbally acknowledge the pleasurable feelings, yet her moans revealed them to George. She had taken some coaxing to bring her back around, even though the contact between their genitals had immediately restored George’s full erection before he even lost it.
“Oh, oh, ah, ooh.” She was pathetically cumming for him again.
“Oh, yeah. Does it feel good right there, Alison? Is that your special spot? Your wet made my cock real hard again. Does your husband’s cock get big and hard for you like this?”
Alison panted. Sex with her husband rarely lasted more than a minute and she never orgasmed from it. Now that she knew George this intimately, her husband seemed so small, weak and impotent to her. “Oh, God, no, he doesn’t. He’s not like you. Ooh, stop it.”
George kept wetting his cock in her pussy, taking his penis out of her soaked vagina minutes later and resuming the irresistible clit massage on her.
“What’s the matter, Alison? Don’t you like it feeling good? I feel your pussy cumming when I stick my cock in it — and you’re so wet.”
“Uh, ah, oh, nah ooh, please —.” Alison’s eyes were barely open. Her mouth was ajar and her breathing labored.
His cock filled her pussy and caressed her clit so perfectly, making it feel so incredible, that she actually forgot for a time how much she really hated George and hated doing this with him. She forgot about her marriage and that George had no right touching her there — that no part of him, including his penis, belonged anywhere near her vagina, let alone in it.
“You really feeling it good now.”
She did not want to ‘feel it’ or hear his ludicrous comments, but he would not stop rubbing her clitoris with his big hard penis and saying those perverse things. She tried tuning him out, but like the sensations, his words penetrated to her deepest core and like their body fluids, his warped thoughts began mixing with her own.
Yes, she felt every wonderful bit of him just like he wanted.
She wanted to look away but like the alcoholic after that first sip, she seemed powerless to stop watching their intimacy from becoming more. George kept refilling her glass, forcing her to consume what he poured. He was getting her drunk with sex.
By continuously sharing the same intoxicating beverage with him — she was unwittingly acquiring his habit and turning into his partner. Together they experienced something much harder than liquor and stiffer than any alcoholic beverage.
“Do you like the way that feels now?
He put his penis back in her vagina, leaned on top of her and began kissing her ear.
“It feels so good inside you, Alison. I’m gonna keep making you cum for me. Yes, you starting to really like that big black Muslim cock.”
Alison’s hands, seeming to have minds of their own, began gently tracing the muscles in his back and then softly embraced him. “Oh, George, you can’t… doing this, it.”
But George’s gigantic black penis kept returning deep inside her, causing Alison’s pussy violent and uncontrolled spasms.
She could not help it. She soon found herself tightly hugging him as he fucked her.
George watched Alison recover on the kitchen table after mercilessly making her orgasm for almost the entire morning on it. Her perfectly shaped breasts rose and fell with her deep breathing and her eyes stayed dreamily fixed on the ceiling.
She was on her back lying naked in front of him like a leftover delicacy he had finished devouring. Naked as well, he sat in a chair beside her silently admiring his handiwork.
Alison’s pale pink nipples were still hard and pointy, her clitoris of the same hue, was plump and juicy. Between her legs that remained separated, a stream of his potent negro cum flowed from her wet slit, forming a small puddle on the table.
George noticed some of his jism on her chin. Alison had acted completely unlike herself in her throes of eroticism. Following his directions she had complaisantly taken his cock in her mouth after he came in her pussy and cleaned their cum off of it.
George had successfully squashed almost all of Alison’s previous resistance to oral sex by frequently practicing it on her and mercilessly training her to perform it on him.
But the sex had ended and her senses returned. “Why did you cum in me again, George? Couldn’t you at least pull your penis out?” Her voice was low and emotionless, her gaze still fixed on the ceiling. “I did everything you wanted.”
She blamed herself for this inappropriate sexual relationship she found herself trapped in with George. Her memory of her first night with him remained murky — although she remembered the sex.
While she could never forget her first time with his huge black penis, she could not recall exactly how the sex started.
George had convinced her that in a delirious fever and moment of weakness she somehow consented to intercourse with him. That initial infidelity was an awful mistake she could not remember making. It started their horrible affair she could not seem to end.
George remained silent. Using the storm as an excuse not to leave, he fucked her whenever he wanted — numerous and lengthy sessions every day, like the one they just completed — and turned her previously tidy home into a mess.
Dirty dishes were piled high in the sink and her clothes were strewn everywhere. She could not keep anything on very long without him tearing it off her.
Alison’s dresses, shirts, pajamas, and underwear sat in various places he had stripped them from her forcing her to have more sex. Evidence of their illicit activity — her clothing and lingerie — was everywhere, including the kitchen table, the couch, the living room floor, and the bed she before shared only with her husband.
George’s demand for constant sex left Alison little time for other things, like picking up and cleaning. It appalled her to fornicate with him like this and embarrassed her to have her house in such disarray.
Still lying on her back, Alison turned her head and noticed her silk panties sitting beside her on the kitchen table, right where George had hastily pulled them off her while she uselessly protested. They were an attractive T-back style, luckily unripped this time because she had reluctantly cooperated with him.
They had started fucking on the kitchen table the instant her briefs came off it seemed. The undergarment was another failed barrier that further reminded Alison of the adultery George made her commit with him multiple times daily.
Alison realized that all she had left to wear, unfortunately, were her nice panties — cute sexy ones like this pair she stared at next to her — that seemed to further excite and entice George.
She had worn all her conservative briefs in failed attempts to be less attractive to him. Each time she tried resisting he ripped another pair off her body until she only had her nice inviting ones left. She did not want those torn by him as well.
Continuous sex at the expense of necessary chores was not Alison’s lifestyle. At least no one had been by to see the mess, witness them together or engaged in all their sinful interracial intercourse.
Alison sat up, craning to find her other clothes. Another grey day appeared outside the kitchen window.
When would the rain stop and sun return?
She would forget all the shameful things he made her do with him and put the entire ordeal behind her. Living with this horrible secret was preferable to sharing the embarrassing truth with anyone.
Alison was determined never to let a single soul know about George. In this small conservative community, everyone talked to each other and their favorite pastime was gossip, the juicier the better. An interracial interfaith affair would be the end of her.
“I think I’ll stay until your husband gets back,” George sneered before Alison had a chance to locate any of her clothes or put on her panties.
Alison’s jaw dropped and she abandoned the search for the rest of her clothing. Her silk panties remained bunched in her fist. George’s audacity flabbergasted her and she looked at him incredulously as she sat naked on the kitchen table in front of him with her pussy containing his dominant sperm.
He could not be serious. He was supposed to leave. There was no way in Hell she would let George fuck her like this.
“I thought you were leaving once the rain stopped and you could get to your truck.?”
“Whatever gave you that idea? I’m not leaving you all by yourself.”
“I’m married and I’m not yours.”
“Tell that to your husband along with how many times you came on my Muslim cock and how many times I filled your pussy with sperm. ” George snapped.
“I need my clothes.”
“Don’t put on a single thread. It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”
Alison heard irritation percolate through George’s warning. She knew from prior experience how quickly it could turn to rage and his use of her least favorite orifice as punishment.
She did not want him ever sodomizing her again. At first it was the most humiliating and excruciating ordeal she had ever experienced.
But by the time he had finished fucking her ass, she had actually become somewhat accustomed to the disgusting act, and to her chagrin, found herself aroused.
Adultery was bad enough, Alison reasoned. Allowing anal sex to become a frequent practice with him was out of the question. She did not want to give George a reason to do it to her again and possibly adopt it as another part of their sexual repertoire. Without hesitation she followed his directions.
George pulled her into his burly arms, and their naked bodies touched. She recoiled slightly from his big flaccid cock pushing against her tummy as he hugged her.
His huge black organ frequently visited deep inside her birth canal over the past week. It robbed all her dignity making her violently cum for him. She dreaded having sex with George again.
George had forced Alison to eat forbidden fruit with him, share the taste of his lust for her flesh and commit horribly sinful acts that opened her eyes.
“Would you like to try the roads and go to town for some supplies?” George asked almost conciliatorily.
Relieved that at least for now George was not about to invade her pussy with his huge black cock again, her tiny body relaxed in his arms. She looked up into his strong dark face with her limpid blue eyes and nodded.
It was a raw, humid, gloomy day as they trekked the distance from her house through the downed trees. A carpet of dead, wet pine needles and leaves scrunched like crumpling paper as they trampled on it.
George had his truck off the road just beyond her property behind some brush. She remembered him telling her it had skid from the road during the storm and became stuck. Yet here it was carefully parked and drivable.
“I thought you said your truck slid off the road and was stuck,” Alison queried, her voice containing irritation.
A big grin revealed the whitest teeth, which appeared even brighter against his dark complexion. “You remember me telling you that?”
Alison glared at him without answering.
“That’s right, I told you that.” George remarked.
“I wanted you to enjoy you the first time we met. I knew there was no way you would ever let me stay but the storm developed. I knew you’d love Muslim cock once you tried it a few times.”
“Love Muslim cock? You’re a sick bastard! It’s was all a lie? That’s all you’ve done since you’ve been with me.”
She angrily stared at the grey blur of dormant trees passing by her passenger window as he drove along the damaged stretch of road to town. Alison now knew the truth: George had planned the whole thing to get inside her panties.
None of the things he had told her were true. He wasn’t a Christian. She doubted if he was from Ethiopia. Was George even his real name?
Was it only the intensity and duration of the storm that had kept them together this long? He had no control over the weather.
Since they had fucked, sucked, and practiced other perversions with each other more times than she could remember and she was now hopelessly tangled in an extramarital sexual relationship with George none of it mattered.
She realized George had duped her, which brought her thoughts back to her husband. None of this would be happening if her husband had stayed home instead of leaving her.
She prayed to God to take away her anger, to make this coerced and depraved relationship with George end, and to prevent her from becoming pregnant with George’s baby.
George’s wipers were set too low and allowed drizzle to build up on the windshield. She could barely see out the window. Irritated, Alison ended her silent appeal to God.
“Turn your wipers higher so we don’t have an accident.”
“You’re afraid of us having an accident?” George quipped, coincidentally referring to the same topic Alison just finished silently praying about — an unplanned pregnancy.
“Yes, make them go faster,” she replied, naively missing his double entendre. A sheltered life had still maintained an innocence in Alison — that in many ways reflected her youthful appearance rather than her actual age.
He shook his head while rolling his eyes, and switched the wipers to a higher setting.”
Thanks to the barely passable roads, they reached a store late in the afternoon and George stopped. Alison prayed she would not meet anyone and was surprised when George walked off.
Thanks to the storm, store was emptied, little remained as far as food and water.
She stopped in front of the contraceptives and quickly scanned a wide and confusing selection of condoms. She tremulously pulled a box of the largest sized rubbers from the shelf and buried them furtively beneath other items in her basket. While George watched from a distance.
Alison hurriedly threw the items from her basket on the counter. They made it all the way to the checkout without meeting anyone when she heard a shrill voice behind her.
“Alison, is that you?”
Alison froze with her back towards the voice as if she had just been caught committing burglary.
Alison closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and turned toward the voice.
“Hi Alison, I am glad you are OK! I didn’t know you stayed to ride out the storm?” Kelly Ward asked with a smile that looked like she was about to shout hallelujah. “Have you gotten word to your family? Is everything okay?”
“Hi Kelly, everything is fine. It was a rough ride but … I weathered it just fine.”
Alison saw Kelly inquisitively look at George, when he walked closer, as if he was a bug that needed to be squashed.
“I’m sorry, you look familiar. Have we met before?” Kelly asked George, practically ignoring Alison’s reply.
Sweat formed in Alison’s palms and armpits. She worried Kelly might see the box of triple extra-large condoms she was buying. She spoke hoping to keep Kelly distracted, “I’m sorry, this is my friend, Georg… George Ikechi; he’s a new parishioner at our church.”
“Are you two here together?” Kelly asked noticing how nervously Alison acted and how closely George was now standing next to her. This black man was huge and looked like a professional linebacker, Kelly thought.
“The… my car died — probably from all this weather — and George brought me here to get what supplies we could,” Alison blurted before George had a chance to answer. She did not know what George might say to Kelly.
Kelly’s eyes widened for a second.
“I see,” she replied, her demeanor noticeably changing as she saw the cashier pick up Alison’s box of condoms.
Everyone knew Alison wanted children. There was little doubt why Alison was buying triple extra-large condoms, this huge muscular African-American man driving her around, shopping with her and standing so closely to her. It had to be more than the storm.
It all made sense to Kelly, although she never thought Alison would commit such an immoral act — especially with a black man.
Kelly pictured the erotic contrast of this big burly stud taking petite shapely Alison, stuffing his thick, dark meat into her tiny pink hole and making her cum. Kelly felt her vagina dampening and instantly filled her mind with sinful thoughts of the numerous positions they could have copulated.
Obviously, Alison was a slut. A whore. How could she possibly betray her husband like that? “I guess it was nice seeing you. I glad you rode the storm out” she coolly added, leaving and not continuing her shopping.
George and Alison made their slow return trip in his truck down the long stretch of lonely wooded road. A full moon, with its luminous face intermittently covered by veils of varying transparency, played hide-and-seek behind clouds that raced across a clearing evening sky.
Alison stared out the window at the scene occurring in the black sky between the moon and clouds. She said little to George as he drove. She thought about what had happened earlier with Kelly at the store.
Alison wondered if Kelly saw the box of condoms and suspected George was fucking her, or was she just being her typical stuck-up self? Perhaps Kelly assumed George was buying them for someone else. Alison tried to remember when Kelly left if she saw Alison pay for everything.
“I think Kelly suspects something is happening between us, “Alison remarked, hoping the possibility of others knowing of their illicit relationship would persuade George to end it now.
“Something is happening between us, Alison.”
What he said so crudely was not true, Alison thought. There was nothing between them. She was not doing it as willingly as he inferred, even if her body physically responded to him and he made her orgasm.
The truck started slowing half way home in the middle of nowhere. George turned down a path Alison had never seen before running through the woods.
“Where are we going?” she asked apprehensively.
“A little spot I discovered a few months back I come to every once in a while.”
As he drove further into the bowels of the gloomy forest, branches descended from all directions into the narrowing path and scratched their roof, underneath their floorboard and at the sides of their truck as if clawing for them.
A short distance ahead foreboding darkness quickly swallowed the headlight beams, as if they were descending some deep cave.
Claustrophobic panic gripped Alison.
“I don’t like it out here, George, please go back.”
“Just a little further.”
“No, we might get stuck.”
They reached a field and beyond that, the bay George parked beside that looked like a pool of inky blackness with an audience of sea oats waving at them in the breeze from across the dark distant shore.
George turned off his truck and there was silence. The moon came out from behind its cloudy curtain and painted a scene in silver with its reflection glinting in the water.
“Why did you bring us out here? It’s creepy. Let’s go,” she nervously petitioned, the moonlight giving her face an even whiter appearance.
His arm reached around her shoulders and drew her to him as she tried pulling away.
“No, leave me alone. Don’t touch me anymore. It’s not right. There’s nothing between us. I’m married, and not to you. I want to go home.”
“What do you mean you don’t like me? I enjoy your tight, white pussy and you enjoy my Muslim cock. I don’t care if you’re married. I thought we had that straightened out already. Besides, why did you buy those condoms then?”
Alison embarrassingly looked away without answering.
Where did he ever get the idea that she liked his Muslim cock? He made her sick and she despised intercourse with him. She was only worried about getting pregnant.
Condoms would at least be a minor barrier between them and a thin partition of safety separating their genitals and the potential consequences of their continued and complete physical intimacy.
“I didn’t tell you to buy them and you went straight for them,” as George’s hand went to unbutton her jeans.
“No, I don’t want to do that with you anymore,” she protested as he pulled at her pants.
“Lift up and let me get them off you,” George demanded, ignoring her.
She raised her butt rather than risk angering him. At least she had the condoms for him to use with her now.
She sat naked from the waist down and then he raised her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra.
“No, I want to go home,” Alison pleaded. She was now naked, angelic in the moon light.
“Let me eat your kafir pussy or you can walk your naked, white ass home from here,” George growled.
Why did he have to keep calling her vagina a ‘kafir pussy’? She hated the sound of that vulgar word. It sounded so disrespectful and perverted.
She could not go out in the buggy, ghastly woods by herself and walk through that scary darkness. She hesitantly lay back, her shoulders against the door, and let him put her left leg over the back of the bench seat while pushing her right thigh open.
She looked down in dismay at her indecently spread legs as his tongue entered her slit. He nuzzled her tiny golden bush that appeared brown in the moonlight and was no wider than her eyebrow.
Her hands had become useless appendages.
“please, don’t,” she cried. “Oh —”
She watched, hypnotized, as his tongue kept playing with her clit, her cries gradually transforming into reluctant moans, her hands slowly accepting the presence of his face in her most private place and coming to rest in his kinky black hair.
She closed her eyes and began to orgasm.
“That’s it, Alison, let your big Muslim lover make you cum. Your husband left you all alone. He had more important things to do than take care of his wife.”
Her face contorted.
“Ooh, ooh, uh, no, oh, he didn’t. Don’t say that.”
“Oh yeah, does this make your pussy feel good? I’d never leave a beauty like you alone, but I’m glad your stupid husband did because it gave me the chance to spoil you the way you deserve.”
“Oh, ooh, no … please.”
“That’s right, keep cumming for me, Alison, and enjoy it. ”
George gave Alison three solid orgasms before stopping to remove his own clothes.
“What are you doing? We need to get back. It’s getting really late and it’s eerie out here.”
“Why are you scared? I’ll protect you.”
Ironically, he was what she feared most — more specifically, his gigantic black penis that was already rock hard and ready for her. And yet inexplicably believed that he would protect her.
“Please, George. This isn’t right.”
“Get on top this time,” George replied dragging her to his lap.”
Alison reached over for her purse and pulled out the box of rubbers she had purchased earlier.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m not having unprotected sex with you anymore. You need to wear this for me.”
She tried handing him a condom packet.
“No, If you want it; you’ll have to put it on me,” George grudgingly replied refusing to take it.
George enjoyed watching as Alison struggled to unroll the latex sheath, which stretched over George’s long, thick shaft, inadequately accommodating it. These were triple extra-large condoms, the biggest the store carried, yet they didn’t fit his penis and strained to barely cover half of his full erection.
“Okay, you got it all safely wrapped up.” As he slouched in the seat, she lowered herself onto his latex-covered penis, her hand guiding it into her wet slit.
“Ooh,” she murmured as she began humping with a sheath thinner than a hair separating their genitals. She still disliked him, but not as much as before.
George patiently allowed Alison to seduce herself on his thick, long prick.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh,” she softly mewled.
“That’s it, Alison. Keep moving. Doesn’t that feel good?”
“No, I don’t like it when you talk,” Alison insincerely gasped, her pussy growing more sensitive to the delightful friction from his cock and her hands beginning lustful explorations of his muscular chest.
She was in the midst of another orgasm when George unexpectedly lifted her up. His long, thick cock, soaked with her vaginal secretions, came completely out of her pussy and flopped onto his hard stomach.
He never finished with her this quickly. “Are you done?” Alison asked bewilderedly and with a confused disappointment. His pleasure-giving penis was abruptly removed from her.
“I’ll get on top now.”
George raised Alison’s thighs and spread them wide.
“Uh — okay,” she agreed docilely, now accustomed to long fuck sessions with him. The hormones in her body dictated resumption of their unfinished business. She was actually relieved that he still needed to cum and preferred him on top.
As he aimed his cock with her opening and prepared to slide back in, he yanked off the tightly fitting condom, letting it fall to the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“It feels better this way,” George answered as he returned into her bareback.
“Ooh, God” she panted, her pussy treated to the raw flesh of his big Muslim cock again, their genitals sharing much more sensation wonderfully amplified without the dulling effect of latex.
Alison knew this pleasure came with a cost, their reproductive organs exchanging more than physical feelings, but also body fluids, and she was receiving. Receiving his genetic code, DNA. It was beautiful, disgusting and wrong all at the same time.
“Take it out,” she whispered unconvincingly.
“I know, Alison, in a little while. You’re starting to loving Muslim cock. Stop fighting it.”
He nibbled his way up her neck and to her ear.
Alison felt further tangled in a knot with him. Was she actually starting to love his black Muslim cock? Maybe she had enjoyed his big black penis all along but could not admit it to herself.
She tried turning her face, but he forced her to French kiss. Her hands pushed at his sides a few times before giving up and falling into an embrace. They had already had so much sex without protection, what difference did one more time without it make?
Parked near the shore where gentle waves born from night breezes met their early demise, George’s truck bounced as if its wheels were driving on a heavily cratered road, its fogged windows shades of privacy for the unrestrained passions within it.
They fucked until the wee hours of the night. Alison felt the warm spurts of George’s jism coat her cervix. He had over-filled her pussy with his cum.
When they finally finished for the last time, she silently retreated to her side of the truck as far from him as possible and fell asleep against the passenger side window. Some of his potent sperm leaked from her pussy and formed a wet spot while she slumbered.
George took the opportunity to stealthily remove the box of condoms from her purse. It became a piece of litter discarded amongst the storm debris along the side of the road.
Early morning entered her room in horizontal slivers of light through the tightly drawn blinds, interrupting dreams that stubbornly lingered in Alison’s eyes as she slowly awakened to harsh reality. Through her pajamas, she felt George’s morning erection against her thigh and his arm across her chest.
She cringed. He was nude and laying partially on top of her.
They relieved his hard-ons every morning by committing adultery and fucking, an act she once found deplorable, but now started accepting with him. His large testicles produced huge amounts of sperm that he simply needed to ejaculate. When she helped him alleviate his frequent erections he treated her nicely.
Remaining motionless to avoid rousing him, her eyes pendulously scanned the room for her purse, which contained the box of condoms she had purchased yesterday. To her relief the handbag was on the nightstand beside her bed.
She wondered how she was dressed in her pajama’s. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep in the truck.
Did George bring her into the house and dress her?
Last night was absolutely the last time she would take any more chances having unprotected sex with him.
Her relief was short lived, soon replaced with rivulets of tears that flowed from her blue eyes down the sides of her face and into her soft flaxen hair. She realized how far things had gone with George. She had actually bought condoms to willingly have sex.
George had no right seducing her like this. They were committing adultery and it was horribly wrong. She had to find some way to end this relationship. She could not continue living this way.
The thought of involving law enforcement, of having every lurid detail of what Alison did with George become public, led to her continued inaction, however. Plus, her husband would never forgive her once he learned all the depraved things she did with a black Muslim.
She was done praying. Her God never answered. But George seemed to get everything.
It seemed like the reply to every plea she made to God for George to stop was more sex with George. Perhaps God wanted to destroy her marriage by pairing her with this hypersexual black Muslim possessing such a huge penis, she thought. Why else would they have been isolated together by a hurricane?
George yawned and his hand slowly began fondling her breast through the smooth silk of her pajamas. The sex would begin again shortly.
Alison tried to sneak from the bed, but George grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into the twisted sheets.
“Whoa, where are you trying to go? My cock is really hard and achy this morning.”
His cock was hard and achy every morning and throughout each day. It seemed like they fucked incessantly to keep relieving it for him.
“I need to cum to get rid of this,” he said pulling back his blanket to show off his enormous erection curved slightly and black. He motioned her to lie down and pulled at her pajama bottoms.
“Why don’t you try masturbating by yourself instead of doing it to me all the time?
Alison tried to hold on to her pajama bottoms, but he pried them out of her hands, yanked them off, and tossed them on the floor. Her bottoms joined all the other garments he had hastily removed from her recently, adding to the existing mess.
“That’s a good idea,” he said as he lifted up her top to suck on her cute, pink nipples. Her body was so perfect. She reminded him of those white plastic Barbie Dolls little girls always played with.
“No” she cried.
He paid no attention to her and sucked on her nipples until each hardened in his mouth. He descended lower, lifted her leg, and ran his fingers through her soft damp folds.
“No, I mean it.” she blustered helplessly.
“You’re the one that mentioned masturbation, so you must want me to do it to you again.”
“please don’t touch me there anymore.”
“What? You don’t like me touching this?”
He softly fondled her clitoris.
“Stop it — please!” She twisted her hips as he held her legs apart. Her fists sank into the mattress as she pounded them on it.
“I’ll just touch it for a little while. I’m going to make your clit nice and hard like my cock. Let’s see how you feel about things once I make you this way too.”
“Oh, God!” Alison cried, his fingers waking her clit to their presence, making it more appreciative of touch — bringing her toward a state of arousal equivalent to his own.
The masturbation slowly drained the fight from Alison and her writhing subsided. His gentle unrelenting caresses had simmered her down while building a different type of tension centered in her loins.
“See how frustrated you feel if I suddenly stopped stroking it for you now and left you like this?”
Her pussy was wet, her clit firm and receptive between his leisurely fingers.
“You would be compelled to satisfy this awful itch — the way I feel every time you give me an erection.”
He sounded apologetic.
“I can’t help it. My cock gets hard all the time and aches. It hurts so badly if I don’t take care of it. Allah created me this way while placing females like you, with beautiful bodies that cause my suffering and are capable of alleviating it.”
While George spoke self-pityingly of God’s “Allah’s” will, it was Alison who was actually treated unfairly, chosen to be an unfortunate recipient of George’s amorous attentions.
Alison did not reply to George, but for those few moments, she almost understood him while he continued soothingly manipulating her engorged clitoris, making it firmer and even more receptive to his touch — transforming her.
She could not let him make her that way again. She had to stop him somehow. But was this God’s will?
“Please stop touching me there,” Alison sobbed.
“I’m sorry, Alison. I know I’m making you very sensitive and it’s feeling really good to you now. I’m not going to stop.”
George delighted in giving Alison the irresistible craving for big black Muslim cock.
He cruelly brought Alison too far — to the verge of orgasm — and then abruptly stopped masturbating her.
All the faith Alison once had in a Christian God provided no protection from George. Like the other women George had seduced, Alison was also catching the over-powering appetite for big black Muslim cock. George unrelentingly inoculated her with his powerful toxins of lust.
“You ready now?” he asked, lifting her thighs and spreading them wide.
“please wait.” Alison reached over for her purse.
“What are you looking for?”
He already knew what she sought — the box of rubbers — but she was not going to find them. His meaty, black cock waited between her legs ready to slide into her moist, pink slit.
“I can’t find the condoms. Where are they?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t wait anymore.”
George slipped his bareback cock into her pussy again.
“Ooh, George, I can’t keep doing it with you like this.”
“Yes you can, Alison.”
“Ooh, ooh, you don’t understand.” Alison mewled, his big fat cock working into her. It felt so good rubbing underneath her clit and against the multitude of innervations lining her pussy, pulling her tightly stretched labia in and out.
This was all wrong, but Alison began assimilating to extra marital sex and an interracial relationship with George. She was bonding with him emotionally. But how was this outcome to be avoided when her body seemed to appreciate it more each time they performed them?
A primitive yet powerful force made things progress along a natural course driven by primal instinct. George, who Alison had initially hated, replaced her husband in their bed and claimed her as his own.
“There’s nothing to understand. It just feels good to both of us, Alison. There’s no reason to feel guilty about this. Let’s enjoy each other.”
George kept saying the right things to her. She was angry with her husband for leaving. He had abandoned her during a terrible storm. He allowed George to come and do this to her.
“Ooh, ooh, do promise you’ll pull out of me this time before you cum.”
“Of course I will.”
George had successfully planted his flag in someone else’s sovereign soil. He planted that flag so deeply that it could never be removed.
Alison’s arms began embracing him as his humongous dick drove into her. She wondered about what George said. No white man had never complained that his penis hurt him like that when it got hard. But then compared to George, no other man possessed a penis.
Perhaps the unusual enormity of the African cock, combined with the huge quantity of sperm his testicles seemed to constantly produce, caused it to hurt when he became excited, she thought. Out of the very few men she had known, none possessed an organ even remotely as large or virile as his.
“Oh, oh, uh, ooh,” she grunted … “does your penis really hurt you badly when it’s hard like that?”
They began to fuck more passionately.
“Oh, yeah, Alison, it’s really painful — it hurts — ache. But it feels really good and the pain goes away as soon as I put it in your pussy — or when you suck on it for me.”
“Ooh, uh, ah, oh. I’m sorry it hurts you so much, George. Why does it keep getting that way all the time — so hard?”
“I don’t know. Whenever I’m near you it gets that way.” He pulled her to the edge of the bed, began making tight circles around her clitoris with his thumb while driving all the way into her forcefully. “Uh, does that feel good like that?”
Alison’s lips briefly slipped the truth through her moans, “Uh-huh, ooh.”
She definitely liked it. Regardless of how hard Alison had tried guarding her words previously, her body had revealed its likes to him long ago and he had mercilessly indulged its desires to seduce her further.
The repetition of intense sex began to make their physical intimacy seem natural to Alison. It became less important to conceal from him what felt good to her. Alison’s resistance against the well-hung, black Muslim stud was now rapidly deteriorating.
“Does it feel better like this, Alison?”
She did not want to answer him. “Oh, oh, oh, — right there,” Alison mewled anyway. She arched her back and twisted the sheets in her fists about to begin another big orgasm.
Together, Alison and George seemed to form a circuit that became more complete the longer they plugged into each other, the current flowing between them increasing in voltage and made Alison climax multiple times. They zealously generated even more power between them.
“Ooh, that feels really good, George. Oh God, oh God,” she repeated in unison with his thrusts.
George decided it was time to put Alison to the final test.
Suddenly his huge penis, planted deeply and securely inside Alison, somehow accidentally flopped out of her, abruptly interrupting their perfect circuit like an unexpected blackout of electricity in the middle of a busy day.
Alison breathed heavily, as if she had finished running a marathon. An opportunity to end this horribly immoral act presented itself — they were unplugged. Over the past 30 minutes, an enormously erotic current had flowed through her. George’s huge cock had felt so good and now it was suddenly gone.
Alison grabbed George’s heavy shaft, slick with their intimate fluids, and gently tugged it a few times.
The sparkle from her wedding band as her hand held his warm, heavy cock caught George’s eyes. He was going to put himself back inside her silky, wet cunt anyway, regardless of what she decided, but he waited first to see what Alison would do on her own.
He was not wearing protection and was close to having his orgasm, but she was in the middle of one. She could have tried jerking him off, but instead, she guided George’s cock back inside her warm, wet pussy. Hardly giving it a thought, she chose to resume unprotected intercourse with him.
George now knew Alison was his.
Alison squandered precious time looking for missing condoms and then having more unprotected sex. Not wanting anyone else to see her with George purchasing prophylaxes again, she avoided the long journey back to town.
It had been one of the most active hurricane seasons in memory with a record amounts of rain in October. Just as the waters the previous storm receded and soaked into the ground, more rain blanketed the Earth and Alison missed her opportunity to go anywhere for anything, including purchasing the additional rubbers.
In flickering radiance, George gave Alison oral sex on the floor in front of the crackling fireplace, as its flames — tongues that glowed orange and yellow — licked the air and exhaled their hot breath into the living room.
“Are you ready for me?”
She turned her head to the side, bit her fist, but failed to answer. As lewd and distasteful as intercourse with George had once been to Alison, he had worn her down. Gradually, the unwanted physical intimacy became more. It kept her safe during long nights, saved her from being alone.
Oddly, sharing herself with George no longer felt alien to Alison. Her body fed his ferocious passion, and that passion filled a void that had formed in Alison’s heart.
At some point, their physical intimacy had crossed a threshold becoming something else. Vulgarities during sex — what felt good and where — began replacing Alison’s cries for George to stop. She ceased asking him why he was doing this to her and their conversations evolved.
She was married, but perhaps she could love another man too. If nothing else, she could secretly enjoy his big Muslim cock.
He gripped behind her knees, pushed them to her chest until her cute, round ass rose off the floor. He spread her thighs. Her tight wet pussy barely managed taking his entire cock.
“Oh, yea, your pussy feels so good.”
“Ooh, ooh — I don’t know about this, George.” She bit the corner of her bottom lip. She was confused, but his big black cock felt so good inside her.
A feeble voice tried reminding her this was wrong. Her body contradicted her brain, however, and conveyed desire for him by her hips attempting to meet his; by her hands tracing the muscles in his back leading to an embrace; by her pussy contracting around his cock in uncontrolled spasms; by her warm wet mouth receiving his tongue as its own.
Less than one week before her husband’s return Alison had finally succumbed to George’s decadence, and George fully indulged her acceptance. He had not found a white woman yet he could not break down.
Alison woke as early dawn faintly mentioned sunrise through traces of light that turned the remains of night into shadows fleeing a house as still as a grave. George peacefully slept beside her. They had spent their last evening together.
The bed sheets containing George’s kinky pubic hairs and dried semen needed to be changed. She needed to do much cleaning to eliminate all the evidence of her activities over the past weeks and in preparation for tomorrow.
George was leaving. Alison told herself she would forget all the sinful things she did with George and resume a normal Christian life with her husband.
However, as Alison lay next George, her thoughts drifted from cleaning and the married Christian life she was about to resume to something more primal. She felt her pussy salivating for one last sample of his incredible Muslim cock.
Just a little peek, Alison thought, carefully pulling down George’s sheet as he slept beside her, and admiring his gorgeous morning erection. His hard cock was so familiar to her now that she could sketch it from memory in minutest detail down to every vein. Unfortunately, her husband’s pathetic little penis did not even compare to George’s colossal manhood.
Her own feelings revolted her. Did she actually prefer George? How had something as shallow as a skin color and penis size become so important to her?
Alison tried stopping herself but could not resist. Her fingers lightly grazed George’s hard-on, trailing the warm, smooth hunk of dark flesh that curved slightly like a big over-ripe plantain. It looked so beautifully masculine, yet caused George so much discomfort unrelieved.
Taking his ache away felt so good inside her. Adultery might be sinful, but how could she let him suffer while able to alleviate his agony and in the process pleasure both of them?
Alison knew something was wrong with her thoughts. She never felt this way about a man — desiring him like this.
How had she been seduced into wanting such a horrible thing? She kept caressing his big hard penis as he slumbered, unable to stop herself. Her soft strokes turned into gentle tugs.
His cock was mesmerizing — long, heavy and so thick her hands barely fit around it. She craved his big black penis and tugged a little harder.
She watched his eyes open, seeing her reflection in them; she knew she was doing the right thing.
“I’m sorry,” she said in embarrassment, still unable to stop herself from stroking him. “But I know how painful your erections become.”
She put her lips around the head of George’s cock and began sucking while tenderly pumping his shaft.
“Mmmm, ah, uh-huh.”
George tilted his head back in the pillow and closed his eyes, “That feels good.”
“Is it feeling better?” she asked, gently jerking on his penis. “I don’t want it to hurt you today.”
“Oh, yes, keep doing that. It’s wonderful.”
She took the head of his cock back into her mouth, one hand still on his shaft, her other descending to his scrotum and fondling his bull-size testicles. They were so large and heavy compared with a white man’s gonads, and always full of sperm.
“Mmmmmm, uh-huh,” Alison moaned as she suckled more of it; willing prey to its seductive charms. “I know what will make it feel even better.”
She climbed up and straddled him.
“Let me put it in here.” As she inserted the head of his cock into her juicy slit and slowly lowered herself, her pussy sliding down his long rod, taking it inside her.
“Ooh, ooh, uh-huh,” she moaned, rising up and down, feeling herself stretch, and incrementally fitting more of him inside her.
George placed his hands on her flowing hips, “That feels nice. Keep doing that.”
“Uh, ah, it’s so big,” Alison moaned, finally taking all of him inside her. “Ooh, it feels so good. I love your big black Muslim cock inside me, George.”
“Oh, I know, Alison, and you’re so tight. That’s incredible — you feel amazing. Keep moving. Oh, yea, just like that.”
“Ooh, ooh, you’re making me cum, George.”
She lay on top of him with her chest flat against his and they kissed. He kept one hand on her narrow waist; his other went between her butt cheeks and rubbed her sweet, little asshole as she humped him.
His long, fat cock sliding in and out against her wet, silky lips created pleasure so intense the only thing that mattered was getting more of it. The past, present and future vanished; only their heavy breathing and the velocity between them existed.
“Oh, I’m going to cum, Alison!”
“Oh, oh, ooh, It’s okay. Please! Cum inside me. Fill me with your seed.”
“Yea, that feels good,” he groaned flooding Alison’s pussy. “You’re beautiful.”
Her hips slowed to a stop, and she lied languidly on top of him stroking his muscular chest with her hand, their time together dwindling like his erection.
However his erections always returned.
He was finally gone. After their morning sex, she spent the day cleaning with only brief escapades and he left that afternoon.
The affair with George — the dreadfully sinful acts he performed with her countless times until she became complaisant — was over, relegated to the past like the storm.
Unfortunately, part of Alison grew to find life with George appealing. Her blue eyes looked like they contained tiny sparks as they reflected the dimming flames from the fireplace she silently watched while the room became darker.
The fire needed tending, but her eyelids, mimicking the dying flames, fell lower and she remained languorously on the sofa. Alison thought the damage with Kelly was repairable, just as the wide spread damage from the storm… and she could explain it innocently, if necessary.
She grew colder. Alison disliked being alone in this drab house in the middle of nowhere. Did she actually miss George? She wondered how she could possibly have feelings for a black Muslim.
She found herself getting wet musing about his big black cock and quickly put the sinful thoughts out of her mind. Her husband would be back in the morning and she would finally return to a normal Christian life.
But something else had started to develop inside Alison and something more than George’s memory would soon become apparent.