Interracial Threesome Story

For the past thirty-some minutes Reverend Thomas Peterson had

been looking in astonishment at the latest packet of pictures of

his wife with someone else. But unlike the ones earlier where she

had been on a filthy mattress in what appeared to be a skid row

bar surrounded by a group of seven black men, this setting was

different. A living room, looking very much like his own and this

time only two Negroes were with her.

His cock was so hard it hurt and he was unable to stop the

feelings of arousal that these pictures, just as the ones before

had awakened in him, after all, Preacher or not, he was a man.

Pushing himself from his desk slightly he unzipped his pants and

a second later had his cock in his hand and was slowly massaging

up and down it’s skinny four inch length. As Reverend Peterson’s

hand came up and rolled over the knob of his dick, his eyes

glanced over the group of six photos laid out before him. In each

photo there were two men either singularly or together with his

wife, but the three he found most arousing were almost identical.

In those it showed his wife kneeling on a couch between the two

men. In the first photo an almost coal-black Negro whose cock was

almost twice again as big as his own, both in length and

circumference, had pushed about four inches of his dark

instrument of virility between her lips. Behind her small

kneeling form, what looked every bit like a 250 pound linebacker

with skin the color of hot cocoa and a cock as equally large or

perhaps larger than the other Negro had pushed maybe five or six

inches into her sphincter.

In the second photo the man behind her was holding her small

wrist in one huge hand forcefully pulling her arms behind her,

while the fingers of his other hand were twisted in her shoulder

length reddish blonde hair much the same way a cowboy’s might be

when holding onto the mane of a horse to keep from being bucked

off. This duel action not only forced her head up but also caused

her back to arch just enough so that her breast, which had been

mashed into the top of the couch in the previous photo, now hung

above it leaving her sensitive nipples to just barely graze the

top of the overstuffed cushion. There were signs of stress to her

neck and shoulders from the strain applied but it seemed to him

the purpose was not to harm her but to allow the deepest

penetration possible. The goal of which had been achieved for not

only were his wife’s pretty lips around the base of the coal

black cock but her nose was pressed into his kinky pubic hair,

while behind her it looked as if a piece of paper wouldn’t have

gone between his wife’s buttocks and the man’s groin, leaving

little doubt that every inch of his dark instrument was embedded

deep in her rectum. Faster the Reverend’s hand moved as he looked

closely at his wife’s pretty face, finding it astonishing that

she had swallowed all eight plus inches.

The third and last picture was almost identical to the other two

except the angle had changed slightly and where before the two

dark cocks fucking her were deeply embedded they were now plainly

and in all their glory visible. The large cock glistening with

her salvia had been withdrawn from her mouth and was inches from

her parted lips and there were strings of cum joining them

together while in and around her opened mouth and across her

cheek as well as down her chin were thick globs of spunk. Behind

her the top of her buttocks and the small of her back were

smeared with a vast amount of cum, while the cock which had been

reaming her ass hole was resting on the small of her back and had

a thick globular string streaming from it’s oversize head joining

her naked white flesh to that of its midnight blackness. His

shoulders, then his whole body shuddered and as his eyes closed a

guttural groan escaped from his labored lungs as he ejaculated,

most of which stained his hand while a weak small squirt landed

on his pants.

Moments later, as his body quit shuddering, he opened his eyes to

look again at the picture and then down at his deflated cock and

the thin almost watery spunk staining his hand and he wished that

his cock was more like the one his wife had been sucking, both in

size and in the amount and thickness of cum it had produced.

Taking several Kleenex, he wiped his hand as well as his cock of

all traces of ejaculation and then he put his cock back in his

pants before opening a drawer and depositing the pictures with

the other thirty or so he had received over the last three weeks.

What in heavens name was wrong with him? He should be destroying

these pictures; not saving them. Of course if he were any type of

a man he would have confronted Angelia weeks ago when he’d

received the first set of pictures, well maybe the second set

because the first had only been of her fully clothed.

The skirt worn in the photos was much shorter then she normally

wore and in one photo where she was exiting her car the skirt had

ridden so high it was plain to see she wasn’t wearing panties.

Without thinking who might have taken them or when, he had simply

thought that she had sent them as a way to excite him because

over the last year he hadn’t really been paying very much

attention to her sexually. But then in the weeks that had

followed packets with anywhere from four to six photos inside

would suddenly and mysteriously appear on his desk twice a week.

Always different, always very explicit and each set seemingly

trying to outdo the ones previous. Now with this latest

assortment, the collection totaled close to fifty pictures and he

couldn’t help but wonder if there were still others as well as

why was she doing such nasty things with other men, and Negro’s

at that. But then mixed with his astonishment at the sexual

depravity the pictures depicted a measure of disappointment

overcame him with the thought that these might be the last and he

silently prayed it wasn’t so, that he would indeed receive still

others. At the same time it dawned on him to ask himself a couple

of very important questions. If they were the last he received,

who in heavens name had taken them or why, and what could the

person possibly want or hope to gain? As he pondered these things

he thought back on the four years he and Angelia had been

married, a marriage that until he’d started getting the pictures

he’d thought of as satisfying and good.

She had barely gotten out of her teens when they had married and

she was naive and unfamiliar with what was expected of her, but

she had grown quickly into the role of the perfect Preacher’s

wife. She’d been a virgin when they had married so he’d gone

slow, knowing that sex was new and strange to her and not wanting

to frighten or make her think he was some kind of sex fiend, he

had limited sex to just two times a week. A schedule he had stuck

with up until this last year, when for some reason he couldn’t

recall, he’d let his husbandry duties slide to maybe twice every

two or three weeks.

As he went to close the drawer his eye caught one of the first

pictures he’d received. It was the one where as she sat astride

one Negro as another had taken her from behind, while yet a third

had used her mouth. Picking the picture up a thought raced

through his mind that this was one of his favorites as he noticed

again that beside the depraved happenings on the filthy mattress

four other naked blacks grinning like sex fiends stood in close

proximity to the simultaneous fucking of his wife, each holding

his shiny cock as if eagerly awaiting his turn to use her. In

this picture as well as a lot of the others that had followed the

only things she wore were her glasses and her crucifix, but what

was especially noteworthy and highly stimulating about this

picture, beside the fact that she was being fucked by three

Negro’s at the same time, was the amount of cum on her.

In addition to the slug-like trails of spunk that could be seen

on her upper chest and across her cute little breasts, several

streaks of cum had left a shimmering slimy trail across her face

while her glasses, cocked almost comically off center, had

several globs smearing the lenses. The picture was a good

indication that these three had not been the first, in fact it

left little doubt, at least in his mind, that she had more then

likely been fucked by all seven of them already and that what was

happening in the picture was the beginning of possibly the second

but more then likely the third time they had used her. Putting

the snap shot into his jacket pocket he closed the drawer and

stood up thinking that today he would finally confront her and

then he walked from the rectory.

Arriving at his home, which was supplied by the church and his

parishioners, he noticed that like so many times before it was

dark, indicating that his wife had not yet returned from her

shopping, so without turning on any lights he made his way to the

living room where he poured himself a drink. As first one and

then another and yet a third whisky sour slipped down his throat

and into his empty stomach the reasons for his wife’s absences

were abundantly clear, absences of which he had until this very

moment given little thought, but he could no longer deny it. The

pictures he possessed were proof. For the last month, and with

each new packet of photos, he had refused to accept what was

staring him in the face, but that was the denial of a man who

refused to come to grips with reality. Now his anger and

frustration had finally reached a point where he must do

something or relinquish his right to call himself a man. But

what?

Pictures of his beautiful wife floated up clouding his vision and

without realizing what he was doing his hand went to his zipper

and a moment later he had freed his cock and had began spanking

the monkey again. How could he hope to compete with men whose

dicks were not only so much bigger than his but also giving his

wife so much pleasure, which, from the expression on her face in

the pictures it was evident. He laughed almost maniacally as he

pulled the picture from his pocket and stared fixedly at it until

his arm grew tired and his dick felt like raw meat and then with

a growl of frustration he admitted he couldn’t. It would have

been bad enough if she were having an affair with one man and

sneaking away maybe once or twice a month, but her lovers

numbered in the teens. But those he only knew about because of

the pictures. How many others did she have that he wasn’t aware

of? Standing up he poured himself another whiskey, as with mind

clouded with drink tried to reason why she had taken so many

lovers. He had to call them lovers for from the dreamy look on

her face and from the uninhibited way in which she was letting

each of them use her. He couldn’t say she was being forced to

perform such sordid acts. A slut, that’s what she was, a common

slut, a tramp, why else would she willingly let those men use

her? Oh God why? Her shameful actions would have been bad enough

with just one Negro, but to perform such wanton acts with several

of them and most of the time simultaneously while being

photographed was beyond his understanding.

With his cock now soft and just barely drooping from his opened

zipper he staggered through the house cursing and blaming God for

his whore of a wife before collapsing unconscious beside the fire

place. As he slowly slipped into oblivion he was not aware that

an hour or so earlier as he’d sat in his rectory looking at the

latest set of photos his petite wife was being introduced to her

latest group of lovers. A meeting which, as usual, had been

arranged by her lover and master Warren, a man who while her

husband Reverend Peterson was visiting a sick parishioner had

informed her as to what he expected. Boldly and only minutes

after the Reverend had left for his visit Warren had appeared at

her door and had only minutes after entering the living room

ordered her to her knees. Without drawing the blinds or in any

way trying to prevent an unexpected visitor from witnessing her

servitude she had did as instructed, where after loosening his

pants and pulling them from his hips had with her small hands and

soft lips brought his eight plus inches to hardness. Without

being told and because she knew what he as well as all her other

Negro lovers expected and took great relish in seeing her do, she

raised her eyes to look into his face as expertly and after

teasingly flicking her tongue over the fat knob of his dark cock

her lips began their torturously slow travel down the length of

his ebony instrument to it’s hairy base. With her eyes still

staring into his her left hand rested on his hip as her right

slide over his testicle sack and between his legs until her small

slim fingers slipped between his ass cheeks and into his butt

crack. Yes she had learned well, and like so many times before

and as with so many of her Negro lovers her heart swelled with

pride when he smiled down at her as two of her fingers pushed

into his butt hole causing his pelvis to jerk forward sending the

last couple of inches of his black cock between her soft lips and

into her throat. It was now her turn, and as her head began to

slowly bob back and forth leaving a shimmering trail of her

saliva over his dark cock each time it partially withdrew from

her lips.

He talked softly, informing her of the address she was expected

at, along with instructions to be wearing the special dress that

would be arriving by messenger within the hour. Faster her head

moved when told of the location, but when he described her

special dress and that she would be entertaining no less then a

dozen Negro’s she almost swooned. She quickly recovered though as

with butt cheeks quivering and a final almost desperate lunge of

his pelvis Warren’s cock jerked about like an unmanned fire hose

flooding her mouth and throat with his thick salty cum. Also

unknown to the good Reverend was the fact that this or something

very close to it had happened several other times since her

initial meeting with Warren, a meeting that had very cleverly

taken place in a public restaurant.

It had all started weeks earlier when one Tuesday night after

Angelia’s bible study class Warren had hesitantly approached her

seeking advice. They had talked but still when they had parted he

had seemed depressed, so when a week later and after having

talked to her husband without mentioning Warren’s name she had

been disappointed when the young man hadn’t shown up for class.

She had been bursting with advice from her husband as well as a

desperate need to relay it, so when he hadn’t come to class she

had called him, sure in the feeling that with one more session

she could and would make him feel better. He hadn’t wanted to

talk, but when she persisted his voice though soft had sounded

choked almost as if he were crying and her heart had gone out to

the boy. Cleverly he had gotten her to agree to a Thursday night

meeting under the pretense of counseling him about his supposed

family problems but she had been slightly hesitant about the

location he proposed, offering instead her home. But he had been

been insistent saying that if they met in public tongues wouldn’t

wag, besides they did need to eat so with the time of 7:30 agreed

upon they’d hung up. Of course just the opposite is true,

tongue’s and rumors fly when a white women is seen in public with

a black man, especially in the south when the meeting occurs in a

section of town not often frequented by whites. But the Reverend

and Angelia knew nothing of this because they were from Michigan,

but Warren did, and to heighten the impression that Angelia was

his women he laughed and joked all during the dinner brushing

aside any attempts Angelia made to focus on what she perceived to

be his problem. When it became apparent he wouldn’t talk about

his problem and it seemed he would never stop joking she had

excused herself saying she needed to call her husband, but the

phone was out of order. She was not aware that when she left the

table Warren had spiked her glass of wine, so when after

returning to the table and as he loudly thanked her for the

pleasant evening she hurriedly drank her wine without noticing

that her glass which had been almost empty was now full. As she

had stood to exit the restaurant a feeling of vertigo washed over

her and after staggering into a couple of patrons, where amid

looks of amusement from the blacks along with disgust from the

few whites present she had in a desperate attempt to maintain her

balance reached out to a smiling Warren falling into his arms.

Blankness, a dream like vague remembrance of arms about her,

lips, a warm glowing feeling mixed with distant muffled voices

both questioning and praising and throughout it all shadowy

apparitions groping and pulling at her. At times the dark shadowy

figures around her almost took form as the tremendous heat

emitting from her began to dissipate the haziness in which she

felt herself floating, but then just as she began to perceive her

surroundings, to distinguish form and mass she became like a

tuning fork where along with a feeling of utter bliss the

shimmering haze again engulfed her. Nothing, no sound no feeling,

nothing, until with the sun shining in her eyes she awoke with a

bad taste in her mouth along with a numbness in her pelvis region

and a burning sensation around her ass hole. A feeling of

tightness along her inner thighs but also stickiness as timidly

and as if afraid of what she’d find her hand slipped under her

bed clothes. Shame washed over her as the certainty of what had

transpired burst upon her and as she rushed to the bathroom to

scrub the filthiness from her body she was never the less

astonished at the amount of residue she perceived as having been

deposited on her by Warren. Her whole body, every pore seemed to

be inundated with cum, it was even in her hair and it wasn’t

until the fourth washing along with several douches that she

began to feel somewhat better. But guilt and disgust still

weighed heavily upon her because no matter how many times she

brushed her teeth or used mouth wash she still had that taste in

her mouth. Had she felt so sorry for the boy that she had seduced

him, forsaking her vows of marriage and the love of her husband

for an hour or so of what, passion, and how was it that her

husband who had been laying beside her when she awoke hadn’t been

aware of her condition. As for the first part of her query she

wished with all her heart she could remember, to understand if it

were she that had seduced him or if, and heaven forbid he had

raped her.

Oh sweet Jesus if only she could remember, but it was as if a

thick smothering fog had enveloped her brain making everything

surreal. Whatever the reason for her shameful predicament,

whether she had, as she suspected, seduced the young Negro, or

whether he had raped her, and of that she was strongly in doubt

because other then what appeared to be a hickey on her right

breast along with another on her inner thigh she had no marks, no

bruises, nothing. As to the second part of her query about not

being discovered the answer was simple, her husband as of late

paid little attention to her sexually, but whether it was that or

if she was just plain lucky she couldn’t tell her husband that

she had committed adultery he would never understand, and then

she laughed maniacally because she herself didn’t understand.

Though she had never really thought about it, she was sure that

if for some unforeseen reason she were going to break her holy

vows of marriage, the last person in the world she would even

consider having intercourse with would be a Negro, but that’s

exactly what she’d done. After almost a week of being on pins and

needles, along with being afraid to even look at her husband for

fear he might be able to read her thoughts, the confrontation she

knew was inevitable suddenly and without warning burst over her.

But she wasn’t prepared for when and how Warren approached her

and she almost fainted when he suddenly materialized beside her

while she was grocery shopping. The pressing of his body against

hers as she’d straightened up after reaching for a can of sauce,

along with his hot breath against her ear as he whispered he had

a present for her, almost took her breath away and then he was

gone, but not before pressing something into her hand.

It was a picture, a photo of her with blouse opened and spread to

either side of her with her skirt about her waist while above her

and with her legs entwined about him lay a naked black man, a

black man she had no recollection of ever meeting. Slumping

against her nearly full shopping cart she almost dropped the

photo and then she noticed something written on the back. On legs

feeling as if they were made of lead and without going through

the checkout she walked to her car and then, as per the

instructions on the back of the photo, waited for his arrival.

For what seemed like an hour, but in reality was more like ten

minutes, she sat wondering what Warren wanted and then suddenly

her door opened and she was pulled from the car and into the arms

of her tormentor. His lips mashed against hers and because of the

suddenness and boldness of the act as well as the photo she still

clutched in her hand she offered no resistance. Even the thought

that someone might see, might even recognize her being kissed by

a black man was strangely absent from her mind as his tongue

slipped between her lips. Releasing her he turned her to face the

car where while pinning her against it he nuzzled her neck and

ground his pelvis against her pert little butt telling her he’d

really enjoyed the show she’d put on the other night. After

telling her to get back into the car he then slid in behind the

wheel where, for the next half hour and along with a very

descriptive dialog of her exploits, he took great pleasure in her

discomfort.

In disbelief she looked at picture after picture showing her

having sex with a multitude of black men, not in the pleasurable

setting of a warm cozy bedroom but on a filthy mattress in what

appeared to be a bar. Each picture was different but every one of

them showed her taking a hard black organ in either her mouth,

pussy or ass hole. But the ones that held her eye the longest,

the ones she found almost too incredible to believe, were the

ones showing her having sex with two and even three of the men

simultaneously. With tears in her eyes and with a voice cracking

and choked by sobbing she pleaded ignorance of the event saying

that the evening had been a blur. But Warren, with an arm about

her shoulders and the other occupied with undoing the buttons of

her blouse paid little attention, instead he continued his story,

his rather vivid and detailed story. The jest of which was that

after leaving the restaurant she had demanded to go to a bar

where along with having a few more drinks she began dancing and

openly flirting with several men.

With mirth in his eyes he told how the men began groping and

feeling of her body while she in return passionately kissed

whichever one was fondling her. Smiling, he told how as she’d sat

in a booth surrounded by the men and she’d let them open her

blouse and then as two of them had taken turns kissing her she

had let others push her skirt about her waist and soon her

panties as well as her bra disappeared into someone’s pocket, but

still she refused to leave with any of them when the offer to

take her back to their crib came up. After a while though the men

grew tired of her teasing and several of them had told her if she

wasn’t going to give up some of that fine white pussy to get the

fuck out of their bar.

Listening to his narration of that nights events she learned how

within minutes of the ultimatum she with a confused look had

turned to him the only one she really knew saying that she’d

never made love to anyone but her husband, besides she’d heard

stories that black men’s things were as long as an arm and if

true would split her in two. He told how when the men had heard

her excuse they had pulled out their dicks waving them at her

while laughingly telling her that a sexy cunt like her shouldn’t

have any trouble taking their dicks. Mesmerized she had looked

from their dicks into their eyes and then back at their dicks

before slowly reaching out and clasping the two closest ones in

her small white hands. Minutes later she slid to her knees

kissing first one and then the other and even though she didn’t

take them all the way into her mouth she did make them cum.

After that things happened fast and soon she was naked except for

her glasses and the cross about her neck and she was on a

mattress in the rear of the bar taking one cock after the other.

Like a cock crazed whore she had screamed for them to fuck her

and soon all seven of the men were around and atop her shoving

their various sized black cocks into her every hole, not once but

several times and there Warren’s narration ended. For a moment

she sat in silence and denial with her chin against her bare

chest, her mind in turmoil as she looked at his dark hand upon

her bare breast. She had known that as he was telling his story

he was removing her blouse and bra and now with his fingers

pulling and stretching her nipples she didn’t need to hear his

threat of exposure to know what he wanted and what was expected

of her.

Angelia, with a tortured look in her eyes, stared into Warren’s

smiling face as with a small squeaking voice said it was all a

mistake, that she was a good girl, the wife of a Preacher and

would never do what he said she did. Laughing he told her she was

like all the rest, doing whatever she wanted as long as she

thought she could get away with it, but this time she’d been

caught and whether she wanted to blame her actions on drinking or

whatever it was time to pay the piper. Tightening his fingers

over her right nipple he squeezed as with a smirking voice he

said she was just a horny slut that had just been looking for

some excuse to let herself go and then his hand touched the back

of her head telling her to get busy.

With her memory clouded with only snatches of ghost like shadows

whispering to her along with a sensation of rapturous bliss she

was at a lose to understand what had really happened. If only she

could remember, but she couldn’t, and what about the pictures?

Would anyone believe they were doctored, that he’d had her face

airbrushed in, she doubted it. So along with his vivid narration

of that nights events and her inability to refute the

authenticity of the pictures she was left with no choice and her

fingers loosened his pants after which with a slight lifting of

his buttocks from the seat on his part she pulled his pants from

his hips exposing his genitalia. With the instinct of survival

upper most in her mind along with not wanting to shame her

husband or to have his congregation learn what she’d done, she

willingly slipped under his control. Without resistance to the

hand lightly resting on the back of her head she moved downward

as his whispered voice commanded her to suck his nigger cock.

Seeing no other option and having little choice her mouth opened

and with less then two inches separating his cock from her

puckered lips her nose wrinkled as his musky odor wafted up, and

there in the front seat of her car in a public parking lot her

acceptance of his cock between her lips signaled her surrender to

what ever he might demand of her both now and in the future. Her

fervent hope that he would be satisfied with using her maybe once

every week or so was a forlorn one, and so too was the hope that

only he would use her, but in both cases she was sadly mistaken.

Before the month was out she was entertaining not only him but

quite a few of his friends as well, and not just once every week

or so but several times a week, and to compound her shame he

continued to take pictures. Despite his assurances that the

pictures were only for his use, as a means to keep her in line

she sensed differently though she couldn’t prove anything, and as

far as his friends, well nobody had that many and she strongly

suspected he was pimping her, but again she really couldn’t prove

anything.

She was right on both counts of course, but as to the extent of

his manipulation of her she had no idea, but even if she had,

could or would she have done anything differently? Point of fact

and unknown to her, because his picture collection was becoming

so huge and because he thought that people would pay to see her

shameless display he’d had a friend build a web site where for a

nominal membership fee a person could view, or download as many

pictures of her as one wished. Of course if you didn’t have a

printer or you just wished to have a better copy, you could

purchase as many prints as you wanted for only a couple of bucks

apiece.

Warren was rather proud of himself, he had but with the one time

use of a couple of drops of the date drug Rybonial loosened

Angelia’s inhibitions. A drink or two, the company of several

men, some off color suggestive remarks along with the groping of

her body while they danced with her, and finally the exposure of

a multitude of men’s cocks had made it very easy for him to turn

the petite Preacher’s wife into his personal money maker. A slut

that three times a week for the last five weeks he’d sold to

perhaps three or four dozen brothers as well as taken at least

five hundred pictures of. Yes, Warren was very proud of himself

because he’d accomplished it all simply by showing her the

pictures he’d taken that night, he hadn’t threatened her, simply

hinted at the possibility of exposure while letting her fears and

vivid imagination do the rest. His original reason, believe it or

not, had been because he was sexually attracted to her, her

petite body and gracefulness had made her irresistible and when

his plan had worked even better then he’d expected, the prospect

that he’d be able to shove his eight inch black cock into her

slim white body whenever he wanted was just too damn good to pass

up.

The money hadn’t come until after several of his friends became

aware he was porking her and it was then that he’d decided to

pimp her. The money was good, his customers hadn’t minded that he

took pictures, in fact he’d sold several of the pictures back to

them and then one of them had suggested he post the photos on the

Internet. It had snowballed from there and now where he got most

of his money was from a web site that a friend had helped him set

up, a site simply called “The Preacher’s Wife.” So besides the

money he was making from selling her petite curvaceous body he

was making money hand over fist off the Internet. Someone

visiting the web site would first see a smiling conservatively

dressed pretty strawberry blonde, all prim and proper, standing

before a church with bible in hand along with a bio assuring the

visitor that she was indeed the wife of a Preacher and though

they were originally from the north they were now living in a

southern city with a large Negro population. Her husband the

Minister of a Southern Baptist congregation of perhaps five

hundred souls was aware of her efforts to spread joy to others

less fortunate, showing them by action and deed that they were

loved.

A click of the button brought up her vital stats, saying she was

a mere five foot three inches tall and one hundred and four

pounds, with petite but firm measurements of 34 x 21 x 33 along

with two teaser photos. Both photo’s showed her still wearing her

glasses, as well as the silver crucifix about her neck, but

unlike the one viewed when you first logged onto the site these

were very explicit along with a statement saying that for just

$21.95 for a one month or $64.95 for a three month membership fee

you would get to see the Preacher’s wife visiting and

administrating in her own personal way to the poor and

unfortunate blacks from the slums and ghettos of a large

metropolitan southern city. The first was a school room setting

where at first glance she was dressed somewhat matronly as she

sat behind her desk, but there the similarity ended for in place

of a prim and proper school teacher a vixen was portrayed. Her

white long sleeve blouse was all but undone and even if one of

her breasts hadn’t been prominently displayed, one would have had

to of been blind to of not seen that the Preacher’s Wife/School

Teacher was without a bra. Her skirt, though almost knee length,

was also not quite matronly for up the left side was a slit

reaching almost hip high. Because of the way she was turned in

the chair the skirt had parted showing her upper thighs as well

as her crotch. Again there was no indication of an undergarment

and if one looked close the barest wisp of reddish hair

surrounding her pussy was visible. In front of the desk and in

various stages of undress stood three grinning youths. From the

remaining clothes on their persons it was plain to see that they

were gang members, what today most people commonly refereed to as

gang bangers. Beside her, his pants around his ankles and with

almost the whole length of his cock between her ruby red lips

stood a fourth youth, and from the way her tiny fingers were

clinching the gang bangers buttocks it was clear that the “School

Teacher” wasn’t satisfied with almost. Beneath the photo was the

comment that being a gang banger had it’s rewards but that one

would hope that her other students also received such personal

attention while in school.

The second was a bedroom scene and she was wearing a translucent

full length negligee that, even if it hadn’t been opened and

falling from her shoulders, was so sheer that there would have

been no doubt that beneath it she was naked. Sitting the way she

was, propped against the headboard with a pillow behind her for

comfort while, without looking as if she had been posed, her

upper body was partially turned in keeping to the way her left

leg hung over the edge of the mattress while her right leg bent

at the knee was before her. Beside the bed and directly in front

of her was a naked, rather robust and very dark bald-headed older

Negro. Her left hand cradled his grotesquely large testicle sack

while her lips, again painted a vibrant red, were clasped around

the fat knob of his dick. The middle fingers of her right hand,

because of the way the sheer material of the gown lay could be

clearly seen inserted in her cunt, while beneath the photo was a

promise that if a membership were bought one would not only see

the Preacher’s wife take his fat twelve plus inch dick in her

tight little snatch but down her throat and up her ass as well.

The teaser photos changed about every two weeks, sometimes she

was a secretary, at other times a boy scout troop leader, or yet

again, a nurse or a soldier, but always the teasers were very

explicit and always promising that membership entitled the viewer

to see her further efforts of administrating to the African

American. From the volume of hits and the membership growth to

Angelia’s web site it seemed as if blacks, but more than likely

white folks just couldn’t get enough of seeing the pretty

strawberry blonde getting her brains fucked out by some soul

brother or another. Members weren’t disappointed and renewals

were strong for once inside they could thumb through, download,

or even buy a myriad of pictures showing Angelia dressed,

partially dressed or totally nude being fucked in settings as

varied as a run down ghetto bar or a stylish home setting, from a

secretarial office pool to a burned out tenement building. But

the ones most often sought after and downloaded were the ones

where she was being fucked by up to three black studs

simultaneously, each sporting cock’s that looked, at least size

wise, like 16 ounce coke bottles.

There was no doubt in Warren’s mind that the once timid wife of a

Preacher had become a true black cock slut that, at times, if he

hadn’t limited the brothers fucking her would have fucked herself

into an asylum. Angelia was completely under his control and with

that thought in mind and knowing that the Preacher’s wife turned

slut would do whatever he asked of her, his thinking as of late

was that since he already had her role playing different

scenarios why not video tape the action instead of just taking

photographs. He had tried with thumbnails to give some semblance

of action and it seemed to be well accepted, but a video would

let a person see the uninterrupted story line that the photos

only hinted at. For instance one might click on a thumbnail of

her sucking a cock and up would pop a total of four pictures each

three by three showing her in different positions such as taking

a big dick in the cunt or up her ass along with a face covered

with some Negroes or others cum, a kind of a sequence of the

action that she along with her co-stars had participated in.

But videos would show so much more, so yes a video was exactly

what was needed and through maybe two minute trailers on the web

site he could sell complete videos thereby increasing his income

perhaps ten-fold. But first he would have to check into equipment

cost, and what about a film crew? He didn’t want the videos

looking as if they were shot by some amateur, all shaky and out

of focus with no story line or plot. That would never do, no, he

wanted her videos looking as if they had been shot by a

production company, the thought of which began to frighten him.

The outlay of monies would be staggering at first, but the

rewards, ahhhh the rewards, they would be fantastic. What was it

they said? To make money you had to spend money! Well money he

had, and as long as the web site was up and running more would

continue to come in. As for pimping her he wasn’t counting on

much money there because he’d already cut that back drastically.

In fact he’d thought seriously about stopping it altogether

because during her last outing about a week ago she’d given a

lack-luster performance, almost as if she were bored. So yes a

change of pace was definitely called for, and what better change

than videos?