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Loving Neighbors! by Throne (20 Pages)
🕑 Added 2020-04-22 20:08:39 +0000 UTCLoving Neighbors!
By Throne
© 2019-2020 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to Devinwhitegurl@gmail.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
LOVING NEIGHBORS
by Throne
I couldn't believe how awful things had become. It all started when Basher moved in next door to our modest suburban home. He almost instantly struck up a friendship with my wife Toni. She is very outgoing and it's always bothered me how friendly she can be with other guys, especially because she's a big-busted, small-waisted blond beauty, with a round jutting bottom that draws plenty of male attention. But this was worse than usual. The guy who moved in was tall and amazingly fit, with a sculpted physique. The opposite of me. I'm short and slender and soft. So when Toni and he stood at the property line and chatted, I was always bothered. I was also put off by the fact that he's Black. I mean, I'm not prejudiced or anything, but my bride has long had a fascination with guys like him, always noticing them in TV shows and movies, taking long looks at them out in public.
Over the weeks they became closer. She told me he owned a very successful gym in the city. The two of them even exchanged emergency housekeys in case any of us got locked out of our homes. I didn't think that was necessary but she did it without consulting me. When I objected, she said I could simply take his key back and ask for ours in exchange. Basher was physically imposing and I'll admit I was intimidated. So I shrugged off her suggestion like the matter wasn't that important after all. I tried not to let my fear of the big man show, though I think maybe she could see it.
Anyway, about a week later my wife was out of town visiting her sister. That was perfect for me because I was overdue to indulge in my secret hobby. She had no clue that I loved to dress up in girly lingerie, put on a little make-up, style my hair a bit, and prance around playing at being female. Please understand, what I did wasn't about being gay or anything like that. I always considered myself as straight as a guy could be.
So while she was gone I got dolled up, dipping into my secret stash of feminine finery that I kept in the attic where she never went. I had on some new items I had secretly purchased, including a peach colored bra with super-size cups that I'd stuffed with socks, matching bikini panties, and stockings with elastic tops. Then I'd slipped on a pair of shoes with three inch heels and ankle straps. I treated myself to several glasses of white wine and got totally relaxed. In fact, I sat in front of TV watching a home shopping show that featured flashy female clothing. When I woke up it was to the unnerving sound of the front door opening. I sprang to my feet but, somewhat intoxicated, stumbled and sprawled on the carpet. A moment later Basher entered the room and was standing over me, gazing down with a puzzled expression on his dark face.
"What the freaking hell?" he said. "Is that you, Gerald? Or should I say Geraldine? Damn. Toni never told me you were some kind of sissy. Guess she was too embarrassed."
"Please," I said desperately. "She doesn't know. You can't say anything, Basher. It would destroy our marriage."
"I know that's right," he agreed as he put away his key to our home. "But I don't like the idea that you've been lying to her, acting like you're a regular man when you're really..." He shook his head and chuckled. "...whatever this is supposed to be. Get on your feet, girl, and give me a better look."
I got up clumsily, balancing on those stilettoes and wishing they didn't have buckled straps because I wanted to slip them off my feet. He eyed me up and down.
"Kind of like you're trying to have the same look as your Lady, with them big boobs and the same color lipstick she wears. Did you use her make-up, Geraldine?"
"Y... yes," I confessed in a small voice.
"And what's that color called?"
"It's Hot Lips Crimson."
"Damn. A sissy like you put that on, must mean you want to do something with them lips. Right?"
"I guess. I mean 'no'. I'm not like that."
"Sure you're not." The way he said it made it plain he didn't believe me. "But because you're really macho -- despite that bra and them panties and stockings and heels -- you don't want your wifey to know what you do when she's away."
"Yes. Thank you for understanding."
"Well, I understand, but I still don't like that you've been dishonest with her. So what I think we have to do is have a little test. To convince me that you're not a secret fairy. You up for that, Geraldine?"
"I... I'm..."
He took out his phone and deftly captured several images of me as I reacted with shock and dismay. Now he could reveal my other self to Toni anytime he wanted. What would I have to do to prevent it?
"So how about if you make me a mixed drink, girl? Just a 7 and 7. And then we'll sit down and talk it over." He put his big hand solidly on my bare shoulder and gave a squeeze. It was just tight enough to be uncomfortable and to suggest how easily he could hurt me if I displeased him. "Now move your ass and don't try any tricks."
As I hurried from the room I was shamefully aware that the panties' thong left my bottom cheeks uncovered. Basher said something about my 'white bread buns'. I quickly mixed his drink and -- I suppose to demonstrate how eager I was to please -- put it on a round silver tray. When I got back he had switched the TV to a sports channel and was watching two guys fighting.
He told me, "That's mixed marshal arts. I did that back in the day. But I kept leaving guys all busted up and didn't want to put somebody in the hospital or worse."
He held out his hand and I extended the tray so he could wrap his fingers around the short squat glass. Basher took a sip and winked at me to show his approval. Then he patted a spot alongside him. I set down the tray and put myself where he wanted me. He stroked my thigh above the stocking top and left his hand there. I sat still, trembling inwardly, as a sports score update came on and he listened closely.
"Whoa," he said. "I just won a bundle on my bets. You must be bringing me good luck, girl. I like that. So let's just get your test done and I'll take off to see my man and collect my dough."
"Really? You're going to... leave? And not tell Toni anything?"
"First let's see how you score."
"How I...?"
He gripped my wrist and moved my hand to his crotch. Through his slacks I could feel an impressively huge bulge. Moments later it had gotten firmer and extended partway down his leg. I goggled at the outline of an impossibly long and thick male appendage. In my mind I compared it to my own endowment. When soft, I'm just a nubbin. In bed with my wife -- or all dressed up and aroused from being girly -- I'm a solid four inches. Well, I used to think of it as solid. Looking at Basher's tool, even in its covered state, I felt abjectly inferior. His blatant confidence added to my sense of worthlessness. There I was, dressed like some racy girl, with that overstuffed bra, and the brightest most suggestive lipstick my wife owned. Weakness took hold of my mind. I was unable to resist his overwhelming masculinity.
"Now just get down on your knees in front of me," he said smoothly. I did it and he told me, "Unbuckle my belt and lower my fly."
Then he had me remove his shoes and socks, and even give his large feet and quick massage. My anxiety continued to mount. Basher stood and made me help him out of his pants. As he stood there in his boxer shorts I was so near that I couldn't prevent inhaling his male musk. I didn't know where to turn my eyes. When I decided to meekly lower my gaze it didn't help because I saw the head of his enormous cock hanging out of the leg of his shorts. He told me to finish getting him naked from the waist down. I gingerly got my fingers under the elastic waistband and eased down his underwear. Directly in front of my eyes was his dark cock, long and thick and heavily veined. I couldn't stop gawking at it. He took a handful of my hair and pulled my face forward, so that my lips touched his organ.
"Don't be scared," he soothed. "It won't hurt you. Not unless I shove it up your butt. And I won't do that if you make me happy another way. With your mouth. You can do that, can't you, Geraldine?"
Frightened out of my wits that he might carry out that other threat, I tentatively parted my lips and extended my tongue. The smell of his musk was making it hard to think clearly. When I was at my most helpless he spoke again, his voice gentle but firm, as if he was certain what he was saying was true.
"You know you really want this, girl," he began. The tip of my tongue touched him and I got my first taste of his cock. "If you get off on dressing in bras and panties, it's for sure that you want it." My tongue glided up and down the topside of his member. It began to rise, gaining more impressive inches. "And you can't say no to getting that thick head inside your mouth to give it a suck." I did exactly that. "And to swirling your tongue around the widest part." For some reason it felt good to do it. "And suck it to make me feel good." It had to be the alcohol influencing me. "Now take in a few more inches. And keep those lips sealed around it." My willpower was gone. As much as I kept telling myself that this was the last thing I wanted to do, I couldn't stop. My hands gripped his strong thighs. "That's my girl." I got my fingers on his firm ass cheeks. "I can tell you've been thinking about this." I had him halfway down my throat. "There's no way you can tell me you weren't born to suck cock. It's been on your mind for years, just waiting for a chance to make the dream come true." I moaned with pleasure. "And the best part is that you're going to get a load of my cum soon. But not too soon. Take your time, sissy."
What could I do? I kept sucking. Used my hands on his shaft. Took him out of my mouth so I could lick his balls. How did I know just what to do? It must have been from those stories I found on-line. Of course I just read them because I wanted to read about guys in panties and belly shirts and mini-skirts and whatever. I had no interest in scenes like the one I was playing out. They were included for the other type of guy. The ones who really wanted to submit to a powerful man and drool over his cock, figuratively and literally. Not like me. Except that now Basher was telling me I honestly was that way. And I'd simply been waiting for an opportunity like this. It was hard to deny but I kept fighting against it.
After I'd been on my knees for a while, doing everything I could to avoid having him get his pleasure by slamming me from behind, I noticed signs that he was nearing his orgasm. He grunted softly several times. Breathed more deeply. Took my head between his big hands to move it forward and back. He stopped when only the fat knob of his cock was in my mouth.
Basher growled, "Suck harder, bitch. Use those soft fingers on my shaft. Faster. Harder. Faster."
He made a sound deep in his throat. His hands held me tighter. The commanding man exhaled explosively and in the same instant blasted his heavy load against the roof of my mouth. All at once I was tasting his salty metallic spunk, gulping it down, trying not to choke. He kept me there until he was drained and satisfied. Without being told to, I sucked gently and took more of him back into my mouth as he came down from the heights. He sighed and let go of my head. I was afraid to stop completely, so I continued until he patted me on the top of the head.
"That's my little tramp," he told me. "Now sit up like a good bitch."
It took me a second to realize that he meant bitch both as a demeaning term for a faux female and for a girl dog. I sat up with my arms bent in front of me and wrists limp, while I awaited whatever came next.
He wanted to know, "Did you like that?"
I sniffled. My thoughts were so confused. But I was still telling myself that what had happened wasn't anything I desired. I whispered, "No, Sir. I didn't like it."
"No?" His toes bumped the front of my panties. "Then why is there that little bump between your legs?"
When I looked down I was horrified to see that my small penis was stiff, pressing out against the satiny material There was even a tiny wet spot where I'd been leaking.
"B... but... I'm not gay."
"Keep telling yourself that, sweetlips. And get those panties down around your thighs. Just like that. Now put your hand on your mini-dick. Just a thumb and one finger should do it. And stroke yourself. Show me how a sissy jerks off after giving a BJ." When I obeyed and whimpered with need, he went on, "Sounds to me like you got off on sucking me. You got off a lot. So you'd better stop lying to yourself, Geraldine. You are a cocksucker, always have been, and always will be."
I tried to say something but was getting too close to ejaculating. I tried to hold back. If I finished it would just be proof that he was right.
"Please," I mewled. "Let me stop."
"But you don't want to stop, girl. You want to squirt. Now we don't want your mess on the rug. Wifey might notice. So shoot it on my feet. Go ahead. I don't mind."
With a loud sob I tilted my dick down at his big lower extremities. Before I could think further I was doing what I had always done during intercourse with Toni, which was to finish too soon. My cream hit the tops of Basher's feet and started to ooze down, white against his dark skin.
He laughed and told me, "There you go. Ain't no straight man who sucks Black cock like a pro and then give himself a hand job cause he's so turned on."
I made a strangled sound and bowed my head. He ordered me to lick up what I'd spurted. I got further down, stuck out my tongue, and lapped up my own goo. It was disgusting. My mixed up feelings vanished and I knew nothing except deep shame. Everything he had claimed about me must be true. But I was married to a stunning young woman. Tears fell from my eyes as I finished the disgusting chore. At last I sat up, only to see Basher leering at me.
Somehow I pulled myself together enough to say, "We're done here. Right? I mean, you said you just wanted to test me and then it would be over."
"Maybe you didn't understand. I guess you were too distracted thinking about how much you wanted my Johnson in your mouth and throat. You tested positive for being a cock gobbler. So now, whenever you're hot wife is away, I'll be coming over for more. You'll get all pretty for me and then do whatever I say. Or if you'd rather, I can just have talk with Toni and show her those pictures I took." He produced the phone again and captured another image. "You might want to lick your lips, honey. They got some of my gunk on them."
That was how it started. At first I thought I would be relatively safe because my wife didn't go out a lot by herself. But when she got home she said that her sister had put her back in touch with one of their childhood friends, who had recently moved back into town. So all of a sudden my wife was having a girls night out once or twice a week. Basher was happy to take advantage of that. Toni would leave around dinnertime, to go somewhere and have a meal with the other woman. They would shop afterward and then go to the friend's house to chat and watch some TV. That gave my Black Master, as I was starting to think of him, plenty of time. I would wait inside the front door, dressed and made up, on my knees. He would enter with the key my wife had given him. Sometimes he would immediately want oral sex. If I used my mouth on him right away he would be ready for more before the end of our evening.
Basher found fault with me over trivial matters and used it as an excuse to turn me over his knee for a hard spanking. He might also pinch and twist my cheeks so they were left red. I had to play with my dick and nipples, bringing myself to the brink of an orgasm over and over, without getting permission to finish. When my wife came home I would be in my pajamas, worried that she might somehow discover my red bottom. Or that she would notice how, despite me having put cold compresses on them, the sides of my face were still bright pink from being pinched. And I would be horny if Basher hadn't let me gain sexual relief, but too disturbed by my time with him to want to go to bed with Toni for anything other than sleep. If he had made me tug myself until I finished -- which always led to me having to lick up my mess from the kitchen floor, a small plate, or wherever else he made me spill it -- I would be too depleted for sex and have to hope that my bride didn't want any. If she did, I always complained about not feeling up to it but (as Basher instructed me) offered to use my mouth on her. That was something I didn't enjoy but it soon became the center of my married sex life. She thought it was wonderful.
My Black Master continued to drive home the idea that I was a cock chaser at heart and loved everything he was doing to me and making me do for him. It went on month after month, until I was endlessly conflicted about my sexuality. I always got aroused by being with Basher but afterwards was overcome by mortification. On every visit he would grope my ass and remind me that if I didn't do a good enough job with my mouth he would be happy to turn me around and plug me from the rear. I lived in terror of that happening.
After six months I thought it couldn't get any worse. That was when he showed up with another Black guy, named Roland but called R-Man. He was heavier than Basher and even more direct about his wants. He would paw me all over to get himself heated up, and then push me down onto my knees to practically rape my mouth. Some nights he made me apply a triple coating of dark pink lipstick and then refer to the result as 'mouth pussy'. One evening they sat side by side on the sofa and I had to go back and forth between their cocks, keeping both erect, not finishing them until more than an hour had passed.
The event I had feared for so long eventually took place. R-Man sat in a wingback chair that my wife had picked out herself. He was naked and all I had on was a corset, garters, and stockings. I was required to coat his cock, which was almost as big as Basher's, with a faintly perfumed lubricant. Oddly, despite my shock at what was about to happen, I kept worrying that when Toni got home she would notice the unfamiliar scent. Maybe I was trying to think of anything other than my impending backdoor deflowering. Basher helped me to get my feet on the seat of the chair, to either side of R-Man's thighs. My Black Master kept me balanced while I positioned myself so the thick head of R-Man's erect shaft was touching my virgin tightness. Then I had to ease myself down, further and further, being stretched painfully, crying and blubbering. At last I was fully impaled, sitting on his lap, feeling utterly filled. He got his hands lightly on my hips and had me squirm around to add to the pleasurable sensations he was enjoying. To make he wriggle more he told me to toy with my sensitive nipples.
Basher left the room, which was a minor consolation for me. I couldn't stop gasping and making choked sounds. That must have been why I didn't hear anything else happening in the house. So it was a complete and devastating surprise when Basher walked back into the room, his long arm draped protectively around the shoulders of my wife. Toni's eyes went wide.
"So it's true," she spat. "You really are a fag, Gerald. A full-fledged sissy."
"It's not like that. I can explain."
"Sure. Do you want to start with why your tiny dick is hard?"
"I'm not gay or anything," I insisted. But the self doubt that Basher had instilled in me caused me to add, "I mean, not really. Not like... you know... some guys."
"But you like to dress up girly and sit on a big Black man's lap. Which isn't the same as being a pansy."
"I..." She was staring daggers at me. Not knowing what else to say, I told her, "I'm not cheating on you."
She scowled at me. "Okay. Get off him and you can explain what's really going on."
"All right. It's just that... I mean, could you leave the room for a minute?"
"Why? Just slide off his lap."
"I can't." Fresh hot tears began to stream down my cheeks.
"Why the hell not?"
When I couldn't speak, R-Man said, "Because my big Black cock is way up his tight sissy ass. I mean, this white boy wanted it so bad. I didn't know he was doing this on the sly. And cheating on you. I'm sorry, lady. But he is a real deal sissy. They don't get any queerer than him."
I tried to rise up but R-Man frustrated the effort with gentle pressure on my hips. The more I struggled, the more it must look to Toni like I was doing something to put him over the edge. And intended or not, that's exactly what it did. R-Man let out a cry and his hips jerked over and over. His body rocked. He was spurting his cream inside me. I started to wail but, again, it could easily have been misinterpreted. Toni must have mistaken it for excited enthusiasm and, as the big man under me settled down, she slapped my face several times.
Then she turned to Basher and said, "I'm so glad you told me how my sissy of a husband seduced you and your friend. And how he lied and told you I knew about his perverted love life. No wonder he was such a failure in bed with me. I mean, it was bad enough that he has a miniature pecker. But this is the final straw. I will never EVER have sex with this loser freak again."
"I understand," Basher sympathized. "And I'm here for you. Whatever you need, Toni."
She had pulled away from him when she went after me, but how he put a consoling arm around her shoulders once more. She pivoted and pushed her face against his broad chest, got her hands on his impressive biceps. He stroked her hair and, after a moment, she turned her face up toward his. I saw her eyes close and her lips part. He kissed her, softly at first but then with mounting fervor. She responded with similar energy and clung to him.
"Oh, Basher," she purred. "I need a man. A real man. Please. I've been so betrayed. Make me feel like a woman again. Take me to the bedroom. Now."
My head was spinning. I tried to speak but R-Man reached around to pinch both my nipples. He angled me forward so I could get my feet on the floor and disengage from his softening member. When I straightened up he took something from the table alongside his chair.
"Here," he told me. "This is that sex toy you wanted me to use after I butt-banged you. Let me stick it on in there."
He snatched my balls from behind, dragged me near, and held up a fat black butt plug. I was breathless from having my scrotum yanked and could say nothing as he shoved the device into my rectum, hurting me. I knew from its design that once it was in it couldn't slip out.
Speaking past me to my wife, he explained, "After I load her ass, Geraldine loves to be plugged up so none of that rich protein leaks out. She sure is a twisted sissy."
My bride sneered at me. "You are the worst. Maybe you should watch to see how a real man treats me."
"B... but, I sucked Basher's cock. A lot of times. And licked his balls. And knelt by the toilet to watch him pee."
That was all supposed to make him look bad like me but she didn't take it that way.
Instead, my wife said, "Except he was honest with me. And so apologetic that he had fallen for your lies." She looked up at him. "I don't hold it against you, Basher, that you were victimized by my sick-minded spouse. After all, he fooled me too. In fact, I guess he brought us together."
He kissed her on the forehead. "Agreed. And I'm glad I can help you get over it. In the bedroom. Now."
She put her hand on his crotch. "Yes. It's been a long time since I've had decent sex. Or even half decent. I stayed loyal to Gerald even though there were countless guys who wanted me. Now I don't owe him anything. I feel liberated. And there's only one man I want in my bed. You, Basher."
As they started toward the bedroom I was frantic to stop them. That was when R-Man got up, twisted my ear hard, and marched me along behind them. I hobbled along with my panties around my thighs. Soon we were in the room, with him still holding me that way, at the same time fiddling with my butt plug. That last action started to get me stimulated all over again. He also had me fingering my nipples so that soon I was fully erect.
Toni and Basher undressed each other, slowly and erotically. I couldn't believe it was happening. Yet there I stood, feminized and with the taste of spunk still in my mouth. They got on top of the sheets and immediately had their hands all over each other. His cock stood up tall and proud. She got on her back and he put himself between her spread thighs. My last hopes vanished as he unhurriedly penetrated her. She moaned loudly and jerked her hips to meet his strokes. Soon they were going it at like a couple of teenagers, with wild abandon. Basher slowed down to prolong her enjoyment. He expertly kept himself from finishing. Not until she'd already had a shivering climax and then been taken for another long ride did he push her into a second orgasm and allow himself to ejaculate. Their ardor subsided and they sank into post coital bliss while I stood there sniveling and trying to deny to myself that I was still hard. Worse, I even stayed that way when R-Man, with my cheating wife's permission, forced me to use my mouth to clean Basher's cream from her pussy. Having to do that left me more shaken than ever.
Since then my wife has kept me in my Geraldine role at home. I even have to wear panties under my slacks at work. Basher often comes around for sex. He also takes her out for pleasant evenings together. When they're gone R-Man stays with me to see that I 'don't get myself into trouble', which he does by treating me as his sex slave. Now I have two Black Masters. My wife has seen both of them spank me and reduce me to tears. She gets excited from watching me get punished. She and I sometimes go shopping together so she can buy me sheer nighties, fishnet stockings, and hooker heels.
In a way the greatest indignity is that Basher gave Toni a free membership to his gym, where she works out under his avid gaze while other Black men steal glances at her. I go along with them and work in the locker rooms, where it is understood that any of the patrons are free to fondle me, swat my fanny, and make me humiliate myself in any demeaning way they might wish. I'm not sure which is worse, the men's locker room or the women's. Those ladies can be nasty. Toni started a fund that all the gym members have been contributing to. It is to pay for small implants so that I will have modest but unmistakable breasts. Would they actually do something that extreme to me? Their monetary goal has almost been reached so I guess I'll find out soon.
