Chapter 10 #2
Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee, the twin tree stumps—no surprises there.
Just like on the rugby field, they always seemed to operate as a unit of two.
And all they seemed to want was good old-fashioned, straightforward missionary fucking.
Either Sipho or Rambo making Sasha sob and squeal with their obscenely thick cocks while the other one was happy to just fist himself until he was tagged in.
The two of them playing the same game as Friday night, counting off with their fingers the orgasms of each them managed to give Sasha before dumping their loads into my wife’s quivering body.
For the evening Zain with his thick eight inches had switched from fucking with his team captain, Khuts, to working with Masho, whose cock was maybe an inch longer but much thinner.
I soon worked out these two were the opposite of the twin tree trunks. If they just wanted the straightforward pleasure of fucking a beautiful White woman, Zain and Masho were much more into mind games and experimentation.
Honestly, I couldn’t tell which of the two of them was more arrogant. They both seemed totally full of themselves. The way they acted and spoke telling me that, despite the age difference, both of them seemed to look down on Sasha. Just treating her as their sex toy to fuck and experiment with.
The pair of them seemed to treat her as a piece of meat as they moved her around the bed, bending her into any sexual position that came to their minds.
Doggy, cowgirl, stand and carry, piledriver, piledriver and anvil all got a go—each time they made sure that Sasha was sucking on the cock that wasn’t plundering her depths.
Both of the arrogant young athletes also seemed to take extreme pleasure in marking and experimenting with Sasha’s body. At first I just put it down to inquisitiveness from their inexperience.
But the more I saw, the more I knew it was because they were just kinky and wanted to mark her body as a sign of ownership.
Starting out with pulling and sucking at her nipples to see how large and swollen they could make them…
moving on making Sasha’s ass red from their repeated slaps…
before tiring of that and leaving love bites on her boobs, neck and thighs.
They even took pleasure from pulling at Sasha’s love lips to see just how wide they could pull them. A game that made them laugh as Sasha’s face colored up with embarrassment.
If she’d not been buzzed from all the booze that always seemed to be on hand, I’m sure she’d have drawn a line at their treating her like this.
And she’d certainly have drawn a line at what they did when they’d established the limits of just how wide they could pull her ‘love flaps’ as they so delicately called them.
Because after that game they whispered to each other before Zain with his thicker cock slipped into Sasha’s pussy as she lay flat on his chest. Leaving the top position free so that the equally arrogant Masho slipped his long thin nine inches in alongside his pal’s cock.
Sasha was totally taken by surprise, never imagining that despite all the other games they’d do anything so extreme to her.
In all our years of playing, this had only ever happened one time before—during the early part of the crazy weekend Andre had tricked into her his future brother-in-law, Andre.
Just like then, Sasha’s eyes were bug-eyed as she hyperventilated, her nails clawed at Masho’s shoulders as she stared between her legs, unable to believe what she was seeing. That her pussy was for the second ever time now not just stretched by one large black cock, but by two.
For myself, I remember two emotions. Relief that the booze had taken the edge of things for Sasha—dulling any pain and shock. And also a feeling of shameful excitement.
Once Zain and Masho sensed my wife had adjusted to their double intrusion, they went back to the same rough, energetic fucking they’d been giving her before.
Through the next quarter hour of this rough fucking, Sasha never once lost that look of shock.
But she did cum multiple times as they added trash talking to the double assault on her pussy.
‘You kinky white slut’… ‘You love both our black cocks, don’t you…
can’t get enough of them’…’Gonna stretch you out so you’re ruined for your hubby’s little white cock…
always need big black cocks’… ‘Gonna send you back to your pathetic hubby with your pussy overflowing with a belly full of our muck…’
If that extreme double fucking shocked and surprised me, what her last two playmates wanted to do with her was much more familiar.
Sal—mixed-race and about my height—seemed the only one who didn’t want to pump his seed deep into Sasha’s womb.
No, for him the only fitting ending was for him to pull out, scoot up my wife’s body and fist his thick eight inches as he blew a load all over her beautiful face.
Sal’s particular kink meaning that both times I watched him team up with the team captain, Sal had to go second.
Because Khuts was the opposite of Zain and Masho.
He didn’t treat Sash as a piece of meat.
When they were having sex, he wanted to kiss her just as much as he wanted to fuck her—missionary and doggy as they kissed being his two favorite positions.
Khuts had a bigger body than Thomas. But seeing him with Sasha reminded me of how Sasha was with her absent boyfriend. Not just because their dark skin tones and cock sizes were nearly the same, but also because of the way Khuts and Sasha together combined the physical with an emotional connection.
It was past nine when Sasha took a shower and I finally slunk back next door, knowing I had to be up for an early flight on Monday—hoping beyond hope that when she’d finished showering she’d return home to ever-patient husband.
She did return home. But only a couple of hours after her shower—I guess there’d been another round of poke the White MILF.
And when she did come back, she was in the same mindset as when we’d last spoken midway through Saturday.
“Jase, baby… if you really, really want me to sleep here with you, then I will…￡
But her tone and the way that she was pouting told me what I already knew.
That she’d much prefer to spend the night sandwiched between two or more of her young black lovers.
Mostly for her own selfish pleasure, but also because she knew for her weird husband it would be a fifty-one/forty-nine gift to me on the pleasure vs. pain spectrum that was my life.
Monday morning before I flew off—she still had a day or so of home time—I did manage to get a kiss and a hug.
But that wasn’t because she’d slept in our home with her husband.
It was because I took the initiative to go around to her, and me waking her and pulling her up out of the bed.
The bed where she’d been sleeping naked between two oof her six weekend playmates, Sipho and Rambo.
The look she gave me leaving me in no doubt as to how Sasha was going to spend the last day of her rest period. ‘Rest period’ hardly being the right term given how rapidly the youngster’s balls topped back up each time she emptied them.
Me? I knew I was destined for a lonely and low-quality night of sleep. Followed by a five hour flight to LAX that would give me way too much opportunity to think and fret.