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Back to All StoriesTaken Before My Fiancée's Eyes — Little...

Taken Before My Fiancée's Eyes — Little brother dominated me in all ways.

Added Date: Dec 8, 2016 | Category: 1st Time | Viewed: (1391) times

Taken Before My Fiancée's Eyes

My parents grew up in the Sixties, and though I was born in 1972, I felt as if I grew up in the Sixties, too. Every time I did something bad, Mama told me I was "screwing up my karma." I knew "peace & love" long before I knew "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America..." 

I was an only child, but I had a sibling. On a tour of Africa, my parents adopted Carvel from an orphanage in Ivory Coast (or Côte D'Ivoire, as that government insisted). He was four years younger than I, so although we were friends, he was never a confidante or one of my "buddies." Too young. He was more the little guy I looked out for. "Sans toi, les tyrans me blesseraient" (Without you, the bullies would hurt me). Carvel grew up speaking French, and until he lived in America for quite a while, we had to learn French.

I don't know how old I was when I finally found out from a neighborhood bully that Carvel wasn't "like us." I always thought his black skin was no big deal--like some people have freckles or red hair. 

When I started college in 1994, Carvel was starting high school. When I graduated in 1998 and Carvel got out of high school, he joined the Army. I hired on as a supervisor in a construction company, and then our contacts became only occasional letters. I saw him once in a while--at Christmas, sometimes at Thanksgiving, or when he was passing through on his way somewhere else. Once I stopped in to visit him at Fort Bragg when I was in North Carolina.

In 2000, at age 28, I still lived at home. I had plans to get out, though. My girlfriend Samantha and I were engaged, and I had applied for a transfer to Southern California.

One day that year, we got a surprise visit from Carvel--another of his "passings through." Said he was on his way to report to a fort in Arizona to conduct training for some of the troops there. Carvel had become a Green Beret, an expert in explosives and demolition--and sabotage.

I hadn't seen him in a long time and had forgotten how big he was. Wasn't hard to see how he got to be a Special Forces trooper. Although he'd always been tall, he seemed to have gotten even taller. The Army training had made him even bigger. More muscular.

And something else: something irregular, something unfamiliar, unexpected. Couldn't put my finger on it. Something different about him. Like an attitude of command. A military mindset.

We were always raised not to be "ashamed of your body," so bathrooms, bedrooms, and closets were always pretty casual. I never grew up thinking nudity was bad. I'd seen my parents naked. So what? So it was no big deal when I got a glimpse of Carvel when he took a shower. I happened to walk in to take a leak, and I noticed him. 

And I took a closer look. 

The little boy from the orphanage had flowered out into a man, but the Carvel I saw through the wet glass was an African demi-god! Hadn't seen him naked in years. His ass was so muscled, it was erotic! Perfectly matched to the broad, glistening-black contours of his back and shoulders. 

I gaped. At age 24, Carvel was a Roman gladiator statue in gleaming ebony. 

I saw the scar on his right thigh where he had suffered a wound in a knife-fight with Cuban soldiers in Grenada. Hard, muscular legs. Long. Sinewy. 

Then he turned around. Damn. When did he get so tough? Merciless shoulders like tank turrets. His pecs were like mountaintops, and his belly looked like a street paved with black lava bricks. His chest would give a three-hour hardon to a gay. My own dick was stiffening up, and I wasn't even queer!

And his cock. Stunning. I hadn't seen it since both of us were just little boys, but at 24, Carvel had a plow that could plant a palm tree.

Huge thing. Huge! It pyramided out from a pink, pointed cockhead to an organ thicker--I swear to god--than my forearm at the base. Twice as thick at the base as the cockhead. I felt sorry for his dates--whoever had to stretch out over that thing would be walking gingerly the next day.

Carvel's cock hung enshrouded in a kinky black thatch of jungle that narrowed out into a trail up through the hard plains of his Serengeti to the powerful black Atlas mountains at his north end. Carvel's body was a masterpiece. 

I lingered in the bathroom, puttering with a toothbrush, while he got out and dried himself. I looked back as he pulled on his jockstrap. And his cock was a god-piece.

I gaped, hypnotized. Something like that could sure turbocharge my courtship.Samantha, my fiancée, had a very healthy sex drive. 

Carvel gave me a little smile, packed himself into a pair of Levi's, and left the bathroom. I'm not queer or anything, but just out of sheer horniness, I unzipped myself and jacked off. At the pinnacle, as I spurted my pearly jism down into the toilet, Carvel's huge cock was the image powering my orgasm. I shouldn't be thinking this. I'm not gay, and he's my own brother, for god's sake!

That night, when I got home from a date with Samantha--and nicely satisfied after a good sex session--I saw Carvel asleep in his old bed across the room from mine. Without turning on the light, I undressed and dropped into bed.

As I did, I heard his voice. "Good date?"

"Yeah. We saw Gladiator. Fabulous movie. Russel Crowe is really something."

Carvel chuckled. "I've been in a lot of gladiator encounters myself."

"Wow, man. What's it like?"

In the light of the full moon, I saw Carvel sit up, swing his legs over the side of the bed, and pull back the blanket. He was naked. 

My eyes dropped to his cock. I could see it clearly in the moonlight. I blinked. He was hard. His cock had gone beyond huge to gigantic! 

"When you meet your opponent, half the battle's won if you can convince him you're the alpha wolf." Carvel's voice was like a lion purring. "You've gotta dominate him."

He couldn't see where my eyes were focused, so I kept looking at his cock. Damn, that thing is big! What's he got a hardon for?

"Come on over and feel it, Benny."

What? What did he say?? I choked out "Wh-What?"

"Can't get it out of your mind, can you, Benny? Come on over and feel it. It's okay. You know you want to."

I gulped. "N-Naw, I'm--okay."

"Come over here, Benny." A command. The lion voice had a growling edge. 

Not really wanting to, I got up and walked over. Couldn't stop myself. I reached out and grasped it. Damn, I can't get my hand around it! The contact of my hand to his cock was like grabbing a high-voltage cable--shuddering jolts shot through me! Hell, how long is this fucking thing? It feels like a yard!!

The lion's voice: "Got that ol' feeling deep in your belly, don't you?" 

"W-What--you mean??"

The deep purring again. "Can't get my big rod out of your mind, can you?" By then I was stroking it--as if obeying a command it had transmitted through my arm. "Go ahead, kiss it, brother." 

"N-no! I don't w-want to!"

The lion growled. "Get on your knees!"

This can't be happening! I was the goddamned college quarterback! I run a construction team! I'm about to be married! But my knees bent, my legs lowered me, and with a bump, my knees hit the carpet. Heart pounding, breathing hard, I knelt there, frozen.

Carvel moved closer. He was inches away--I could feel the heat from his body on my face. I realized my eyes were clenched shut, and I opened them and raised my head. There it was. His balls were in my court. 

I looked up at him, desperate, pleading for mercy, but my hand didn't stop stroking his huge cock. Carvel looked down into my eyes, and with that eagle glare, he commanded me. 

I bent my head and kissed the throbbing head, brushing it lightly with my lips, touching it gently. No, I can't do this!! I can't kiss my own brother's--but he pushed the huge thing against my mouth, parting my lips, and once my mouth opened, he rammed it in, jamming it down my throat!

I gagged, and he pulled back--but he grabbed sides of my head and held me still. The big flare of his cockhead filled my mouth, and my brain buzzed 100 miles an hour! He was strong--stronger! I was overwhelmed.

He pushed that thick shaft down my throat again. Once more I gagged, and he pulled out. But when it rammed back in a third time, I strained, breathing through my nose, and fought back the gag reflex He pushed it in farther--but nowhere near the root. Halfway down his shaft, my jaws were stretched so wide, another inch and I would be scraping his cock with my teeth. 

Jesus god, I'm deep-throating my brother, the big, black bastard!

Then he went wild. Suce mon bite, frère! (Suck my cock, brother). His huge cockhead was a shovel down my gullet--I'll have a sore throat from this. But in spite of that--and I couldn't believe it--choking on Carvel's gros bite (his big cock) was a major turn-on. I did want it. God forgive me, I wanted it.

Then he let out a deep growl, and suddenly I was drowning in gushes of hot slime, and the instant I tasted it, I myself went nuts. My own dick exploded in my pants! Fabulous!

As my orgasm faded, I gulped and sucked at his cock, nursing the last drops. What the fuck. I've already sucked him--might as well enjoy it.

When he finished with me, he pulled his cock back, then shoved me, pushing me off-balance, and I fell back onto the carpet. But he was not finished. He grabbed my legs and pulled them apart.

I was in an eerie state--hating what was happening to me but panting and eager for whatever came next. Oh, god, is he going to suck my cock now?

In my confusion, as Carvel tugged at my tighty-whities, I didn't fight him. In fact, I raised my ass so he could get them off more easily. Everything was spinning, nothing made sense, nothing was familiar. Once he bared my cock, he smiled--it drooled precum in a sticky stream. I couldn't deny it--I was hot for him.

Expecting a blowjob, I was surprised when he pushed my knees back to my chest, but when his head ducked down, I figured I would feel his mouth on my cock.

Wrong. To my roaring, insane astonishment, his tongue stabbed at my asshole! Incredible! The sensation was overwhelming! A new area of thrills! Never felt anything like it from there!

"Carvel! What are--" I could hardly talk! Lightning bolts were shooting up from my writhing asshole! What is he doing?? I'd never felt anything like that in my life!

As his tongue circled and diddled on my rectum, jolts of stimulation I could barely stand zapped through me, focusing into my cock and hardening it into an iron stake so hard it was painful! I couldn't imagine what he was doing, but I loved it! In only a few seconds, Carvel had me so horny, I was insane with lust!

And he had me right where he wanted me: I was a sweating, panting, hot-to-trot sex maniac. Carvel pushed my legs even harder onto my chest, and with my feet up in the air, completely vulnerable, he moved into my crotch and centered his giant cock like an artillery cannon.

Ohmigod, NO! Before he mounted, he swiped my ass a couple of times with something greasy--I saw him toss the small tube aside. Then he entered me. 

Pushed it in like we were old friends--fast, hard, no apologies. And oh, god, it was a bazooka! An explosion of pain shot through me! My ass-ring was on fire. god, a terrible mistake! "Carvel! Stop!" He hugged me tighter. "god, oh, god, Carvel! STOP!" 

But he didn't. His huge, black tree gouged in to my lungs! Breathing hard, he gasped, "Gets--better," and he pushed even deeper. His huge testicles bumped against my ass. Ohmigod! Stretched to the max around his cock! My asshole is bigger around than my arm!

Tears ran down my cheeks, and I prayed it would be over soon. What is happening inside? I groaned. When he pulls out, he'll gut me. Pull my insides out. I gritted my teeth. Would my brother then call an ambulance before I bled to death? At least then it will be over. I bent my head down, trying to endure. 

He began thrusting, and unlike what Samantha's cunt did around my cock--stretch out to one diameter and then hold it as I fucked--Carvels lunges into me were repeated agonizing rectum-reams from shut to wide, wide open, bringing a scream from me each time!

But as I crouched there, servicing my own brother, something happened. Slowly, very slowly, the big dong hurt less. Less and less. Oh, god, don't tell me! 

I dropped my head and looked back down my chest and between my legs. Carvel was a stud. His black balls swung back and forth with every lunge. And with every slap of his balls, a new feeling grew stronger--It feels--Oh, god, can this be true-- good! 

Carvel somehow knew. "Yeah! Like it--now--Don't you--Benny?"

I closed my eyes. It did feel good. Finally. In fact, I gradually began to get The Feeling. I don't believe it! I'm going to cum??

But it was true. Carvel's lusty lunges pumped me into a growing frenzy to the point I was an apple on a stick roasting over a fire, never burning, never splitting open, just cooking to a madness of pleasure. "Damn, Carvel! What are--doing--to me??"

The apple was starting to burn--my whole body felt fiery, and I knew I was submitting. Plowing me deeply, my brother growled, "Yeah!--My--bitch now--right, Benny?"

The words were like electric shocks, lightning inside me, connecting my cock to my brain. Carvel's words were damnation, words a man doesn't want to hear, but I couldn't deny it: I would do anything to keep him fucking me. The veins and textures of his cock rubbing over my straining, stretched asshole felt like he was fucking me with his M-16--every lever, trigger-guard, and gunsight--every bump and vein sent skyrockets of pleasure through me. It was true. I wanted him to take me like a dog. I was his bitch.

"Almost--there--Benny!" His voice was hoarse. "Gonna--breed ya!" 

He sealed my bitchhood with six or eight more thrusts--I could almost feel his spurts conquering my soul. My whole body lurched with the slams of his hips, and in an orgasm of my own, sputtering my own jism in a sympathetic climax, I knew it: I was his. His bitch.

When he finished with me and pulled out, I was barely conscious. I fell over, drools of his cum slithering from my ass. He stood over me. "Well, you did good, brother."

How had I let things get so out of control? In the cinnamon feelings of afterglow, I still purred in contentment. But when this ecstasy ends, how in hell am I going to relate to him?

In case I was thinking it would lead to a closer, deeper friendship, more intimate and affectionate, Carvel showed me the truth: he fell onto his bed, pulled the blanket over him, and rolled over to sleep.

There it is: I'm just a piece of ass to him.

That should have pissed me off. I know it should've, but instead the idea that I was just a hole in a piece of meat to him made me so horny I got a hardon again.

Humiliated but still aroused, hard again, I crawled back into my own bed and beat off. Silently, holding the covers in an arch over my pistoning hand, forcing myself to breathe quietly, I let go with another load, my mind ablaze with a vision of Carvel's big dong stretching me into a new universe.

It took a long time to fall asleep. I had never had such a tumultuous, mind-blowing sex session. And I was the passive partner! I got fucked!! 

I woke early the next morning. I looked over at Carvel's bed. He was awake, looking at me. "Morning, Benny."

"Good morning, Carvel." Damn, what can I say? 

He said it. "Why don't you come over here and settle that tight ass over this morning woodie?"

I should've been pissed. I should've been outraged that he would take me for granted as his cum-bucket. But I got out of bed and moved quickly over to him. He had pulled away his blanket and lay back, his giant organ jutting up to the sky. I crawled over him, straddling his hips.

"C'mon, Benny, get me off."

I squatted over him, lowering myself. Carvel lay back, his hands behind his head, smiling as his bitch serviced him. god, how humiliating. This is my little brother! But I was past that. New pages were being written. 

As his big cockhead touched my--had to admit it, eager--asshole, my buzzing brain settled into straight-line concentration: lust. My toes curled, and my crotch was on fire again. The impossible, mind-boggling stretch began again.

Like a trained military weapon, Carvel's bayonet entered me straight and true, and he chuckled, looking up at me with that smile. I was humiliated, but I couldn't stop. Gritting my teeth and tensing my muscles with the increasing pain, I finally settled my full weight on him, and my poor, tortured asshole once again strained to adjust. 

He did none of the work. I lifted. I lunged back. I lifted. I lunged back. "You're good, Benny. Better than a lot of girls I know."

I shut my eyes in shame. But in ecstasy. My ass was responding to the training--the pain faded a lot sooner, and a motherfucker of an orgasm was building in my balls. I felt his balls sliding out of my way on each wide-stretch full squat on him. Damn, his balls are big as apples!

I couldn't raise and lower myself as fast as he could've fucked me "normally," so the build-up and the session were longer, slower, and more maddening. I was close, damned close, but I couldn't force my aching muscles to move any faster. All I could do was watch, desperate, as my orgasm approached like a camel caravan moving slowly over the desert. Ravel's "Bolero" played in my mind. Ah, shit, I'm almost there! Slowly, like lava from Kilauea, the fiery consummation appeared on the horizon, and, dripping with sweat, I worked like a madman to bring it closer. 

I gave up trying to clench my ass-cheeks to tighten the friction over Carvel's thrill-per-inch cock. Couldn't stand it. With all my ass muscles trying to shut my hole over him, the violent yank-back as all my weight skewered me over his giant base was a pain so strong it made me light-headed. Like impaling myself onto the big end of a baseball bat.

But my cock was smoking. On its way. Just a few more lunges!

I looked down at him. What a man. The fucking alpha-male! He looked back with arrogance. Like he would look at a dildo. And I realized it: The more he treats me like shit, the more it turns me on!

My motherfucker-orgasm finally arrived, and my cock blew up like the Hindenburg. Feverish red, it pumped my cum out in frenzied jackrabbit spurts, splattering it all over Carvel's chest. And again the sneering smile. He knew "property" when he saw it. 

I was too far gone, though. My eyes rolled back in my head, and it was all I could do to keep from passing out. The skittish jets of my sperm accented my debauchery, burning away every male pride, welding me into bitch-service. Anytime he wanted. 

When I finally came to, he looked up at me. "Well?" He hadn't cum yet. That was my duty. Wishing could just roll off him and slump to the floor, still I started lurching my hips again, dragging him to his orgasm. By the time he finally reached it, I was sore and panting with exhaustion, but a wonderful, soul-satisfying glow swept over me as his seed spurted up inside me.

When he was finished, he pushed me off him, rolling me to the side, and I fell onto the floor like a cum-rag he had just wiped himself with. Carvel got up, pulled on his Army jockstrap, and went out to the bathroom.

I crawled onto my bed and lay there for a while, reveling in the facing afterglow. Finally I fell asleep.

When I awoke, Carvel had gone. I got up and sat drank a cup of coffee with my mother. While my world had not exactly come crashing down around me, the floor had collapsed under me, and I had crashed into a new basement, a place I didn't imagine could exist.

And as I could climb the steps from the basement to get back into the normal house, so--it seemed--my life could go on "normally." But I had learned about the basement, a place I rather enjoyed visiting.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was okay. For whatever new urges Carvel had aroused in me, I was safe from discovery because Carvel was an occasional thing. He visited only once or twice a year, if that often, and he would be gone soon. 

I called Samantha and arranged to visit her that night.

When she opened the door for me, I took her into my arms and started foreplay. I wanted to see if anything about me was "broken." 

Didn't seem to be. Soon I had Samantha purring and rubbing me back, and our clothes gradually hit the floor. We moved to her bed, and, to cut a hot foreplay short, I took her missionary-style. But no sooner was I thrusting at middle-pace than her apartment door opened. Astonished, we both looked over at the door.

There stood Carvel.

Samantha screamed, and I pulled out. She snatched a sheet over her. "What in hell are you doing here??"

Closing the door behind him, Carvel purred, "Take it easy, Sam. Just want to show you Benny's new trick."

Oh, shit!

He pulled open his fly, and there it was. No underwear. Already hard. I knew that huge thing only too well. 

I looked over at Samantha. Eyes wide as saucers. Mouth open in shock. I knew she'd never seen anything that big.

Carvel's voice was the deep lion again. "Shock and awe, eh, Sam? Hit Benny that way, too." He looked at me. "Get over here and suck my cock, Benny."

"No! Please! Carvel, please don't!" 

Samantha looked up at me with astonishment, but I heard a rush of wind through my ears as his big muscle throbbed in the air. I fought! I fought to stay on the bed with Samantha. But my body got up! It walked over to him, hit the floor, and before I knew it, I was sucking that big cockhead--like I had before.

"Benny, Jesus!" 

There goes my marriage.

It got worse. Carvel pulled out of my mouth. "Hands and knees, Benny."

What the hell. My world was coming to an end. At least I could get a fuck out of it. I dropped into The Crouch, he mounted me, nudged against my rectum, and a moment later, Samantha saw something she never should have. 

After two sessions with Carvel, I knew the fuck-stretch he would give me, and I was ready for it--and used to it. The pain wasn't nearly so bad as he thrust in. "See this, babe? He's hot and tight!" goddamn it, does he have to put me down?

"See how it pulls out, cinched up tight around my cock? That's tight!" I felt like shit. 

But the fact that he was performing before Samantha's horrified eyes must've been like Viagra to him. His cock was even bigger than I remembered it, lunging into territory never touched before. 

It hurt--not as bad but still a torture, and I knew my relief would come when the lust took over. As he thrust into me, I looked back. He was staring at Samantha, gloating, triumphant.

I glanced over at her. She had been looking at me but then was looking into Carvel's face, her eyes wide. 

And at the moment I saw that, I felt the burn of pleasure. It was starting. At first I was ashamed that I was getting horny while fucked in front of my fiancée, but soon I didn't care--I was getting relief. I was two people--one humiliated before his woman and hoping to live through the smarmy experience, the other choking back the urge to beg Carvel to fuck me harder. 

Samantha's face glowed with an expression I couldn't quite make out, was it horror--or fascination? 

"Come over closer, honey." Carvel's voice was liquid bass. 

To my astonishment, Samantha got up and walked over to where I crouched on the floor. "I got your man." I cringed at Carvel's words, but I saw Samantha's face flush red. "And he likes it, too, don't you, Benny?"

I lowered my head in shame. 

"Look under there, Sam. See? He's hard for me. He likes a hard cock up his ass!" I bit my lip as Samantha actually bent down to look. Sure enough, my cock was hard as a pool cue, bobbing up and down.

Suddenly it got worse. As Samantha observed my humiliation and servitude to the big, black cock, I felt something. Oh, no! god, no! Please not now! I couldn't hold it back, and while my lovely Samantha watched, my body took over, my hips lurched back and forth, and a big spurt of cum shot out to sputter into the carpet. It was followed by six or seven more, and during all of them, I was "Out of Service"--out of this world in the heady ecstasy of Carvel's monstrous black scepter. 

Yeah, see that, honey? You're his bitch, and he is mine! See that? He likes it, don't you, Benny?" He slapped my ass, and to my shame, the pain only contributed to the pleasure.

"Go ahead, honey, feel him. Feel him cumming from my cock in his ass!" My face burned red as Samantha dropped to her knees, reached under me, and seized my cock. I couldn't look up at her.

Then I heard her say words I could never have expected: "I'd rather feel this." Her hand left my cock, and I sensed it at my asshole--she was gripping Carvel's cockshaft as it slid in and out of me!

"We can work that way, honey." Carvel's voice dripped honey like my cock dripped jism. "Why don't you get those clothes off?"

I looked up. god! Samantha was unbuttoning her blouse! "Yeahhh, that's it, baby, strip down for action!"

She pulled the blouse open. Nice tits--the first things that had attracted me to her. She shrugged the blouse off, then reached behind to unhook the strapless bra. She let it fall to the floor. 

"Yeah!" Carvel approved--and so did I. Crouched on the floor like a dog, submitting to a cock up my ass, I still felt a rush as I saw Samantha's fine breasts. Big. Not big enough to sag, but big. Firm big. And, god, they were pointed! Her nipples were erect and jutting out.

Carvel reached out and caught her waist in his arm. "Come closer!" Samantha was tall. Kneeling on the floor behind me, Carvel's head was a little lower than her chest. So--My god, I can't believe this!!--she bent over, bringing her left tit closer to his face. 

And he sucked it. Glommed his mouth over that big, pink nipple and sucked her like a vacuum cleaner. Samantha's eyes rolled up in the sockets, and her head flew back in ecstasy.

And still Carvel's ebony log pumped me. The stimulation in my ass and the hottest sight my eyes had ever seen were too much for me. To my astonishment, I went into another orgasm--letting out a groan and wriggling uncontrollably, I shot another gush of cum on the carpet.

About the time I recovered and looked back again, Samantha was breathing hard. She pulled back from Carvel's devil lips and pulled open the buttons of her skirt. When it was loose, she yanked it down and stepped out of it. 

I think both Carvel and I gaped in lust. Samantha's bikini panties were wet at the crotch. When she hooked her thumbs in the waistband and slid them down, her pussy hair glistened with moisture. 

When she moved closer again, the new target was not hard for Carvel to reach. He nuzzled at her pussy, and she let out a sigh--but the angle was wrong for any good tongue work. 

Frustrated, Samantha decided to join the team. She lay back on the carpet beside me. She looked over at me with a little smile, then she spread her legs and slid her feet back, raising her knees, forming two triangles, two bridge arches pointing to her hot pussy. 

Carvel's voice was a growl. "That's what I'm talkin' about."

He pulled out of me--and I was disgusted with myself because I felt a sudden frustration and loss (I wanted it back). I looked over at Samantha, who looked up at Carvel with eyes glazed over with lust. 

"A man needs clean tools," Carvel muttered. "Benny, get up here and clean me off!"

Oh, no! This is too disgusting! As I turned around, I faced his upjutting cock--covered with me. No way out.

With my last ounce of self-respect, I snatched a doily from the arm of the nearby couch and, bending over Carvel's throbbing, unsatisfied monster, I desperately wiped it off. 

He grabbed my head. "Naw, stupid, I mean suck it clean!"

I did. The lowest point of my life. As my fiancée looked on, I took my brother's cock into my mouth again (or tried to), then licked all over it. Thank god for the doily!

Then he turned away from me and mounted Samantha.

I saw her tremble as he pressed that giant dong at her snatch, and I couldn't help but admire the flexing sinews of his back and his buttocks knotted into mighty burls of masculine power. 

Samantha let out a lust-drunk scream as he sank his huge, black weapon through, into, and up her, gouging her deep with a rough, craggy rod that made her a new woman. And from the look on her face, she got a new religion. 

I knelt there, watching, pulling at my own hardon. Never so sexually aroused in my entire life.

"Better get down there and let her suck you off, Benny."

An obedient dog obeying his master, I knelt beside Samantha, and like a zombie, already fucked into a state of multiple orgasms so close on each other she was in constant ecstasy, she turned her head and opened her mouth. I couldn't quite get down that low, and Carvel growled, "Straddle her!"

I got over her, a knee on either side of her shoulders, and my cock was in perfect alignment. Samantha sucked me in, and then time my eyes rolled back. god, she knew how to suck!

But that wasn't the end of it! After driving Samantha into orgasm-insanity, Carvel pull out of her, and Whoop! his big rod stretched my sore ass back open, and he started fucking me as I bent over her!

Couldn't say I didn't like it. By then I was ready for anything he wanted to do. In fact, the double stimulation of Samantha sucking and Carvel fucking shot me to an orgasm. She backed off me, coughing and choking, her mouth full of sperm.

About then Carvel pulled out of me--Damn!--and he sank back into Samantha's steaming cunt. Guess he wasn't all that dedicated at sticking her only with "clean tools." She didn't seem to care, though. With a groan of delight, she wrapped her legs around his ass, pulling him closer--and maybe making sure he didn't back out again.

To my surprise, Samantha, already with a mustache of my semen, glommed her mouth over my softening cock, still slimy and dripping, and started sucking again! I'd planned to get off, but another blowjob held me in place. 

And in spite of Samantha's clutching legs, Carvel developed a sort of "sharing." After a minute or so of humping the groaning and moaning Samantha, he pulled out of her and sank himself into my gaping asshole, turning me into the one gasping and groaning. 

After many minutes in cycles of purring fuck-ecstasy and impatient waiting, the pace getting faster and faster, the tension hotter and tighter, I went over the top. "Carvel, you bastard! Faster! FASTER!!" And with a final groan I bent over, more dog-style for him, anything to get him in deeper, and I cummed like I never had before! Even stronger than when he took me alone!

My cock still in Samantha's mouth, I choked her with a gush of cream that could've filled a pitcher. Like New Year's fireworks in liquid form. 

And the second Carvel sensed my climax, he pulled out of me--No! Not yet!--and with a vicious lunge into Samantha, he showed her what New Year can be--and her body jerked in spasms. She bucked under me like a raging mare, my cock slopping from her mouth, grunting guttural cries, almost in convulsions. An orgasm that cemented her into his harem forever more. 

Carvel filled her so full of sperm, it spurted back out along his lunging cock, and I actually felt hot splatters of it on my ass. No doubt about it. Carvel was the man. He owned me, and from the look on her face, I could tell he filled her. Every crevice. Every nook and cranny. Throughout her whole body. 

He bred her. Impregnated her. If not making a baby, at least fertilizing her mind. She would be his, mind, body, and soul.

And as I snuggled down onto her--hoping Carvel would penetrate my upraised ass again, it hit me: I've got his sperm in me, too! We're both his lovers. I lowered my head. His bitches.

I counted that as my birthday. The beginning of a new life. 

In 2007, I was seven in "Carvel years." Samantha and I had gotten married after all--for legality's sake. So we could move into our own place without parental/societal questions/denunciations. Carvel moved in with us. I found out he had gotten out of the Army. Into some mysterious civilian business that took him away a lot. 

At home he got the master bedroom, of course. At first I figured the unused hole would sleep in another bedroom, but nope. Carvel used us nightly every time he was in town. 

Outwardly, everything was "okay" with Samantha and me. I go to my job. She goes to hers. Home life at night gets strange. We still love each other, a deep affection and need. I like her company. She snuggles up to me.

But fucking is forever changed. When I take her, it's like practice. Like amateur attempts. I get off, and so does she, most often, but it's more like masturbation. 

Because we're servants. The mind-melting, soul-changing ecstasy happens only when He is there to use us. And we can't get away. Slaves to that huge black cock.

Never have found out what he does for a living. Something he and his Army buddies got into. Hush-hush. I have no idea. National security, maybe. Drugs possibly. Smuggling? Who knows?

Or cares?

Added by: Workboots
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