Jayson and Isla were in high school together but were not sweethearts. She was tall, well-formed, drop-dead gorgeous and was in the volleyball team. This gave her the physique of a goddess and an ass that would melt ice cream. They chatted occasionally, but there was nothing to suggest they would become one. Besides, she was more interested in chasing football players and couldn’t even spell lacrosse. She had a reputation as a party girl, eager to please and skilled from much practice.

After high school Isla had only one year of college studying art and English literature before dropping out and exploring other options. She modelled for a time. It was profitable and well-suited for her, given her look and her body, but she developed a reputation for being difficult to work with. A fling at acting came next, but it was the Spruce Goose of careers… promised much but barely got off the ground. She then meandered through other attempts. Real estate showed the most promise, as did hospital administration and local government, but all came to the same conclusion. Strongly opinionated, entitled, difficult to work with. Isla did not take kindly to being told what to do. She had boyfriends during this time and an occasional fling when the opportunity presented, but none of them lasted.

One day she was seated in a café, alone and sipping bad coffee. She wondered, where had all her friends gone? She'd been very popular in high school and had had a vast circle of friends. She'd been invited to the best parties and had had an outrageously awesome time. Seemingly, those days were all over. All of her girlfriends had moved on, most to college or other cities. Some were already married; others had forged careers. As for the boys, well, in high school they'd been only after one thing, and she'd been eager to provide. As expected, they'd quickly left her behind when other opportunities had been presented. It dawned on Isla that not a single friend from high school, male or female, remained.

As for family, she was an only child. Her mother died when she was five years old; her father remarried when she was eight. Her stepmother offered her zero comfort, advice or guidance during her formative years, and her father had turned to drink when he realised the woman he married enjoyed the company of other men. Deciding to ‘opt out’, her father had committed suicide when she'd been fifteen. She'd lost track of extended family after this and hadn't seen or spoken to aunts, uncles or cousins in years.

The reality of her position hit her like a hammer blow.

Gazing out the window, she saw a man walking towards the café. Her eyes widened. She was mesmerised. Tall, handsome, muscular, and very well dressed. A face hidden behind Ray-Bans but one she semi-recognised. He passed and looked at her through the window, smiled and nodded. Her heart skipped a beat. She knew this man, but who was he? She sat frozen, trying to remember. Blake? Cameron? David? Jerome? Jeremy? Jason? … WAIT!

Jayson. Jayson Brenner!

That’s who it was!

Isla threw some notes on the table and was off after him. She looked down the street – nothing. Ran to the corner and searched the crowd – nothing. No matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t see him. Her shoulders dropped. Deflated and defeated. A fleeting chance just appeared, and just as fast, it was gone. DAMN IT! She stood there deflated, defeated, denied.

“Hello, Isla.”

Isla froze. The voice was strong, confident and masculine. She turned and saw Jayson standing there with two ice-cream cones. Her pussy became instantly wet. He handed her one, but she ignored it and threw herself at him. They kissed like long-lost lovers, but in truth, it was their first.

8 months later, they were engaged. 14 months later, they were married.

They honeymooned in Jamaica, spending the next two weeks soaking up everything it had to offer. Jayson was blissfully happy. Isla already had a wandering eye.

Isla and Jayson fucked at least twice a day during their honeymoon and not always in the privacy of their room. Several times in the pool and on the beach. Jayson was conscious of not drawing a crowd and often stopped when others appeared. Isla couldn't care less and wanted to put on a show. One particularly hot night, they stole a golf cart and fucked for hours on the 3rd, 7th and 11th greens. Jayson was no virgin when they married, and Isla definitely wasn’t, but Isla was the monster fuck of his life. There was nothing she wasn’t open to. Isla was impressed the first time she sucked Jayson's cock. 9” and super thick. That was the same day she saw him from that café. Isla liked her men to take charge and be in control, whereas Jayson liked to wander, meander, go with the flow and be happy to follow. This got under her skin, but where he lacked control, he made up for it in length, girth, stamina and recovery. Naivety was another failing of Jayson. Isla had to hold him down just so he would cum in her mouth, and he was gobsmacked when she swallowed. She begged him to fuck her ass, which he did, but he pulled out when she grimaced in pain.

“He needs to be trained in my ways,” Isla said to herself, “and if he cannot lead, he must follow.”

Sitting on the beach, Jayson had ordered cocktails. When they arrived, Isla took a sip, then excused herself, and off she trotted to the bathroom. As she walked past the bar, she smiled and winked at the handsome young barman whom she'd lusted over as soon as they had arrived. He watched as she walked into the ladies'. He followed shortly after.

Isla stood in the middle of the ladies'. She had already removed her bikini bottoms and pulled her breast cups to either side, exposing her luscious D-cup tits, and was striking a model pose in her heeled sandals. She watched as he walked in, his cock already out, and what a cock it was. Black, hard, thick and 10” long. She licked her lips and walked into a stall. He followed and locked the door. She sat and looked directly at his cock, looking up at him as she peered into his eyes.

“You are presuming a great deal walking in here with your cock out, aren’t you?” Isla asked.

“You are not the first stray wifey I’ve had, and you will not be the last,” he said in his deep Jamaican accent, “but you are definitely the best-looking. This is Jamaica. A wink and a smile from a white girl here with her husband to a Black man is all I need.”

“Is that right?” Isla asked. She was turned on by his confidence and his cock.

“For sure, that’s right. I sees when a pretty little white girl is lookin’ to be blacked, and I 'ave more 'den enough black here fer you and all yer friends.”

She didn’t even know his name. She didn’t care. Isla ran her fingers up and down his cock. It truly was impressive, and she was getting wet at the sight of it. She felt its weight and his low-hung balls. She loved how it was clean-shaven, loved the cologne he wore and desperately wanted to be ground to a pulp by his black hammer.

“I love what you’re doing to me cock. Driving me wild, it is. Be a good little white bitch and put my cock in your mouth. Suck my cock, then I will give you the pleasure of filling you with my mandingo and my seed. Now is when I baptise you as the black cock slut you want to be. Maybe I even give you me, baby!”

Isla stopped stroking his cock and felt the weight of both his balls in her left hand. With her right hand she gently ran it up his chest, standing as her hand went upwards. Standing just inches away from him, Isla reached down and gripped his cock, just able to have her fingers touch it; it was so wide. She spread her legs and could feel she was wetter than ever. She slapped her pussy with this monster black cock, ran the massive head up and down her slit and never, not once, broke eye contact with him. She let go of his phallus and dipped her finger into her honeypot, bringing it up to his face and running it gently over his lips. She gently stroked his cheek, and he could feel her grip on his balls tighten. She dug her nails into his neck. This was a new experience for him. She squeezed his balls to the point of pain but not panic. Not yet.

“Listen to me, you insignificant peasant. You pull beers and mix cocktails for a living. I don’t care how big your cock is, I don’t care how full your balls are, and I don’t care how many women you’ve fucked. You cannot stand in my shadow, let alone tell me what the fuck to do or what the fuck to enjoy. Back home you’re not good enough to mow my fucking lawns.” Isla said sternly.

“There are new rules to this game. If you want me, I will decide if you can have me, and you will do what I say. You do it when I say, and you do it how I say. I’m not your white wife, whore, slut, bitch, fuck toy or anything like that. You can’t share me with your friends; you do not own me, and I definitely do not want your fucking baby. You speak to me only when I say you can, and you will always show me respect. Do you understand that, you peasant?”

Isla remained calm. Firm, direct but calm. Her grip tightened on his balls to the point his face had gone from confident to panicked, sweat forming on his brow and running down his cheeks. He began to raise his arms. Isla thought he was about to strike, so she squeezed harder. He yelped and begged for her to release him. He was raising his arms in surrender.

“Put your fucking arms down,” Isla commanded.

He did, and she maintained her grip.

“Do we now have an understanding?”

“Yes,” he said, voice quavering.

“Yes, what?” her voice stern and controlling.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry, missus. I do not mean to offend. Jus wanted a good time.”

Isla released her grip. He took a deep breath, and with his head bowed, began to relax. Isla reached down and took hold of his cock, which had shrunk somewhat. She ran her finger under his foreskin and felt he was soaked wet with precum.

“You may go now.” He nodded, unlocked the door, and said, “Oh, and one more thing: because of your bad behaviour, you will prepare another round of drinks for me and my husband. They will not go on our tab, and they will be perfect.”

He nodded and left.

Isla refreshed herself, dressed and returned to the beach lounge with Jayson. She looked at him and reached out with her finger, squeezing it between his lips and into his mouth. He sucked her finger lovingly. “I bet I know where that has been!”

If only he knew.

Fresh cocktails arrived. Isla smiled.

Part 4 coming soon.

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