When I got back from Boston, I let Justin know. I was his wife when I was home, but when I was on trips, I wasn’t. “I’m your wife when I’m home. That’s when you can ask me about what I’m doing and where I’ve been. When I’m on a trip, I’m not. And like when I was in Boston, I don’t want you asking questions.”

I looked at him hard and said, “When I’m away from home, I’m single, and you can imagine what I’m doing, but I’m not telling you. Use your imagination. I’m not answering your questions, so don’t ask.”

God, I didn’t expect to say that to Justin. But that’s exactly what I want. When we’d talked about it before, he'd talked about being there, but I hadn't. I wanted to do it privately and out of town. I'd had no idea it’d be so exciting. Making him wonder what I’m doing and making him imagine what I’m doing is breathtaking. I'm going to love it.

My next trip was to San Jose, California. The first evening, I called Justin and let him know I was here. After dinner, I stopped in the bar for a glass of wine, just looking over the merchandise available.

No. No. Maybe. No, never in a million years. Hmm, well, there is one guy here. He’s attractive and looks in shape. He’s coming over to my table, um, so do I want to talk to him?

“Hi, can I sit here? You’re alone here?”

"Sure, have a seat.” I said, “Yes, I’m here for a week on a business trip. Alone.” We introduced ourselves. He was Dawson Fletcher, and I introduced myself as just Cecilia with no last name.

There were sparks everywhere when he sat. I had to blink to be able to focus on him.

What does this mean? I already want him. He looks dangerous to my fidelity, if I had any to worry about. I can already picture him in my room. God, Boston changed me. I knew it but hadn’t realized it had been that complete. I’m going to love having another secret from Justin. Would the fact that he’s black make any difference? Seeing his cock in me would be.

Do I want a black man? Would it make a difference to Justin? All I know for sure is that I want him to seduce me. I guess that's all I need to know. Will I submit to him? How far?  Yes, and pretty far.

“Are you local? Or?” I stopped there, wondering what he’d say.

“Not really local, though I’m here often. I’m staying here till next Sunday, then going back to Chicago.”

Umm, he’s here until Sunday. Umm. God, he looks tasty. I’ve never let anyone cum in my mouth; I’ve never tasted anyone’s cum. Even, who? I can’t remember his name right now. I might do it this week; I’m single, right? For the week at least, I am.

“You’re here for the week; that’s what you said. Um, when are you leaving?”

“I’m planning on leaving Friday night.” I said, “Though …” my voice trailed off.

He took my hand and kissed my palm. I could feel it through my entire body, and I could feel myself trembling. He was overpowering me, and I knew he could tell. I felt the sensation of submission to him passing through my body. No, it didn’t pass through. It was staying.

“Dawson.” I hesitated, then continued saying, “Dawson, you can tell, can’t you?"

He leaned toward me and kissed my lips this time. My response was immediate, with a repeat kiss. “Yes, I can. Shall we have dinner before or after we go to my room? I vote for afterward, but if you’re too hungry to wait?”

He stood up, took my hand, and led me to the elevators without a word of objection from me. I was shivering as we got on and went to the twentieth floor. This was so different than Boston. He knew I’d submit to him; let him fuck me. How much did he know? I was afraid that he knew how far he could push me. It was farther than I had thought possible. What would I refuse him? I couldn’t think of anything that I might refuse.

When we got off the elevator, he started left but stopped a few feet down the hall. He had my hand, pulled me closer, and kissed me again. When I felt his fingers unbuttoning my blouse, I almost couldn’t stand. He finished unbuttoning my blouse and slipped it off my shoulders, exposing my bra. His tongue was exploring my mouth, and he was fumbling with my bra, unfastening it. I was naked from the waist up, in the hall, already.

I was whimpering, making little sounds of obedience, his name, and the word yes. I would have let him take me right there in the hall. Instead, he had me half naked, and he kissed my tits with light nibbles on my nipples.

He scooped up my blouse and bra, and we went further down the hall. I was waiting for someone to come out of their room. I wanted someone to come out and see me. I wanted to knock on the doors so they would see me.

How much further will I go for him? I just don’t know. I absolutely don’t know.

When he opened the door to his room, he pulled me inside and caged me against the closed door. My trousers ended up on the ground around my ankles, together with my panties. He unbuckled his belt, and I unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down.

Yes, his cock. I’d never touched one this massive; he was just like all the fever dreams I’d had. I wanted to feel it in me. Not later, now. I took it and guided it to my, God, my white married pussy. 

“Dawson, just fuck me, right here, like this. I want your cock, please.” I could hear more whimpering in the room, and I realized it was coming from me. He forced it in slowly. He had to do it slowly to get it inside me. It was the third stroke before I could feel that it was completely inside me.

I closed my eyes and savored the sensations of complete bliss. I could feel my climax approaching, and I heard a scream as I fell over the edge. My muscle spasms pulled him over with me. We were both in spasms of complete orgasms.

God, it was a complete surrender to him. He had to hold me up. We finally stumbled to the bed and collapsed.

It was a couple of hours later that I felt his hands back on my tits, caressing them, tweaking my nipples, and pulling on them. I was moving around, trying to get my mouth on his cock. When his cock slipped between my tits, I decided what I wanted. “Dawson, I want you to fuck my tits and cum there. God, I want to see it. See your cock cum all over my tits and my face. Please, I’ve never done that. That’s what I want, Dawson.”

I didn’t have to argue about it. He shifted around and started fucking them. I could see his cock moving between them, and the friction he was creating by squeezing them on his cock was bringing me to another climax. I couldn’t stop whimpering. It felt so good, and the anticipation of watching and feeling it happen was bringing me to the edge. I could see his cock tense just before his cum spewed out over my tits and mouth. It felt so dirty so degrading that I came again. It was exactly what I wanted.

I’m not married right now. I'd told Justin I wasn’t, and he agreed to it. I’d told Justin I’d tell him what I wanted him to know when I got back. I’d told him I’d be doing all kinds of dirty, degrading things that I didn’t want him to know I enjoyed.

Well, that's what I’m doing.

I lay there for a minute, savoring the feel of his cum on my skin and my face. Then I started rubbing it in like it was skin lotion. It heightened the sense that I was his whore. Dawson’s white married whore.

Why does that arouse me the way it does? I don’t know, but it does. What else can he do to reinforce it? Maybe it’s a sense of payback for all the ugly things done to his ancestors? Maybe it’s just because that’s what I want to be? Whatever the reason, I want it. I want Dawson to treat me like his whore. God, where will that lead us?

I leaned over him, kissing him, then moved down and took his cock in my mouth, licking my juices and the remnants of his cum off.

I moved back up and snuggled with him with his hands on my tits and one of my hands holding his cock, and then we both dozed off.

When I woke, I had a smile on my face, as I remembered last night. The rush as I saw his white cum erupting from his black cock all over me was still amazing.

I had to get to my meetings, and Dawson had his own thing to do. So, breakfast and work to follow, maybe concluded with some more sex tonight, were in store.

I was back at the hotel by six, and we met at the bar. God, he was good-looking in his suit, but nothing like he was last night fucking me. The thought of him naked, wet with sweat, and with that cock was almost overwhelming.

This is something I have to share with Justin. He’s going to explode when I tell him when I get back and become his wife again.

When I sat next to Dawson in the bar, the kiss he greeted me with said: We were married and still loved each other, or we weren’t and were fucking like mad. I could live with either.

While we were eating dinner, he mentioned two friends he wanted me to meet, to know, with a little emphasis on the word know.

“Ah, so you’re thinking of the four of us getting to know each other? Is that right?” I said with just a hint of a smile.

“I know you’ll enjoy getting to know them, Cecilia, just like you got to know me. But that's going to wait till tomorrow night. I have plans for tonight for just you and me.

To quote a famous philosopher, “Boy, howdy did he!”

After dinner, we returned to his room, where there were unlit candles placed around the room. I hesitated when I saw the bondage stuff. Justin and I hadn’t ever done bondage, even mild bondage, so it was a surprise that the bed had the blankets pulled down, and I saw cuffs and rope already set up, together with a blindfold.

“I’m not into pain.” was the first thing I said. “Um, Dawson, um, I don’t think so." The last came after I felt my tits tighten in anticipation. “Are you?” I asked.

He held me, saying, “No, not pain. But just a touch of feeling, sensation. I won’t hurt you; I will just make you tingle. Make you aware of being alive. Trust me.”

I can’t move. Is this something I want to feel? I‘ve enjoyed submitting to him; will I enjoy the restraint he’s offering? Are those whips on the table? Dawson, what are you offering me? Restraint, and what? Is it pain, or is it different from pain? I seem to want it.

“Dawson, I trust you. I do. Please, if you can make me feel. God.”

“I want to submit to you.” My need to submit overcame any doubts I had.  My needs controlled me, so I said, “Dawson, I can’t stop you. I don’t want to stop you. I need to submit to you. Dawson, yes, just do it. Do it to me.”

I kneeled in front of him, saying, "Last night, while you were fucking my tits, I realized I wanted to be your white whore. Damn it, yes, you're whore. I can't believe it, but that's what I want.

I undid his trousers, pulled his cock out, and rubbed the tip on my face. Yes, it was leaking on me.

“You said you wanted to be my white whore?" He said, "I have a present for you. If you promise to wear it as long as you’re in San Jose. It’s my ownership collar necklace. You can take it back home for your husband; no, he’s your cuckold, isn’t he your cuckold?"

He smiled, again saying, “Your cuck can take it off at home; if you want it, that is.”

I took it, trying to decide if I could do it, at the work meetings here. It was a solid band with an ownership ring on it. Would this be too much? It might stop Tom Henry from hitting on me, maybe. Hell, my wedding ring doesn’t slow him down.

Is this the submission I need? “Dawson, you want to own me while I’m here? Sexually, right? That’s all?”

I’m hesitating, but I know I’ll submit. Does he have a chain to attach to the ‘O’ ring?

His hands went into my hair and pulled me up to kiss me while saying, “We both know that I already do. Don’t we? This is so other people know. I want you to wear this. You want me to own you. You’ll do what I want. So, get on the bed so I can restrain you and make you come.”

I put on the necklace and lay down on the bed before blurting, “Tie me down, and then … and then I want a picture I can send to Justin.”

Did I say that? A picture? I want Justin to see what I’m doing? He’ll come if I send him the picture. God, yes, I want him to see me tied up with the collar and naked. Maybe with cum leaking out. I can picture him when he gets it, yum, yum.

“You want to send him a picture? For your cuckold? I’ll love doing that.” He started fastening the cuffs to my wrists, kissing me as he did. He moved down, kissing and licking as he got to my tits and then my pussy. Then he fastened my legs apart, exposing my pussy. 

I was writhing my back into the mattress because I couldn’t stay still.

He was taking pictures and short video clips as he did it: holding the collar, his hands on my tits, and in my pussy. He used the flogger on me to redden my skin; that's what he called it—a flogger. The sensations were new to me, but he was right. It made me feel even more alive.

Justin is going to love this. He’s told me he likes to picture me submitting to another man.

Dawson went through the pictures while I was still restrained. He had my legs spread as far apart as I could go, while my hands were tied above my head. I'm his submissive whore, just like I want, and I'm waiting to be fucked. He was caressing me wherever he wanted to. Occasionally, he presented his cock and balls to be sucked.

I heard myself whimpering. “God, Dawson, yes, yes, my pussy, my pussy. More. More. My cunt, yes, I need your cock.” Well, more or less, that’s what I was trying to say. He was driving me insane until he finally put his cock in and put me out of my misery. When I felt his release inside my pussy-cunt, I screamed, “YES.” 

It was a couple of days later, or maybe a half hour—I couldn’t tell—we'd recovered enough to decide which pictures to send.

We used his phone, but I typed in the text.

Hi sweetheart, I’m with Dawson tonight. I want you to see what we’ve been doing here in San Jose. I’m wearing his ownership collar for the rest of the time here. Notice the O ring for a leash if he needs one. He’s had me tied to his bed for the last couple of hours, and God, I’m sore.

I’ll be wearing the collar when I get home, so you can take it off me so I can become your faithful wife again.

Cecilia 

I got a text back in about twenty minutes. 

God, yes.

Dawson and I spent the night sleeping together. Well, that's what I called it. There was a bit more exercise and sweat involved than is normally associated with sleeping. I was looking forward to meeting and, um, knowing his two friends. They had to postpone until Saturday, but I was leaving Friday.

We argued about it until, finally, he took me to a pet store to get me a leash. He made me pick it out, and I had to wear it through the lobby up to his room.

"Now, Cecilia, do you see the leash? Do you see the collar? What do they say?

"You own me until I leave," I said in a small voice.

"That's right, so text Justin. Tell him you have some business that will take you until Sunday."

Justin

I'm going to be back on Sunday, not Friday, like I planned. There's something I need to see about Saturday. I'll make up for it when I come home.

Three men are going to be fucking me on Saturday. Yes, three men, Justin.

Dawson drove north on Highway 101 until we were in a wooded area, where he turned off and drove up to a large cabin where two men were waiting on the porch.

These were the other two men to fuck me: Wilson and Lane. Lane was white, and Wilson was black. not colored, but black.

We introduced ourselves and went to the porch, where they had some coffee. waiting.

I wanted this, so I started by going to Wilson. I put his hands on my tits, pulled off his shirt, and kissed him. When he started kissing me back, I pulled away and went to Lane. "I have the perfect lane for you to travel." Then I unbuttoned his shirt and caressed his chest. He didn't need any prompting from me to touch my tits. I kissed him until he was kissing me back too, then I went to Dawson, my owner, and undressed him, making him stand up so I could slip his trousers off.

I kneeled in front of him and took his cock in my mouth, holding his balls. Yes, I sucked it until I got a taste of his cum and then pulled away. I looked at his friends and said, "Don't be timid; I know why I'm here, and I want you to do it to me. That jarred them loose, and they both came and started touching me.

I hadn't texted Justin, and I hadn't delayed going home, so I could fuck Dawson again. I wanted all three of them to do me. This was why I was here.

Lane responded by caressing my tits, gently caressing them, while Wilson focused on my pussy. Two men paying attention at the same time was wonderful. Three men would be fabulous.

I was murmuring loud enough for all of them to hear, "Dawson, I want you all to fuck me; screw me blind. god, please."

Dawson looked at Lane and Wilson and nodded, saying, "You heard her; let's do it. Now."

Lane carried me into the cabin and put me on the bed. He was saying, "Just do what we tell you to." I saw him reach for some lube on the table.

"I won't need any of that, Lane. I said, I'm wet enough."

Then I felt Dawson put some on my ass, while Lane was putting his cock in my pussy.

They're going to both fuck me at the same time. I've never done that. two men at the same time.

I just finished that thought when Wilson put his cock in my mouth.

All three of them at the same time? I can't believe it. I've never thought about the possibility.

It felt so different—a cock in my pussy, a cock in my ass, and a cock fucking my mouth. I was in heaven. All the different sensations combined, multiplying each other, were driving me crazy with lust. I couldn't scream because of Wilson's cock in my mouth; all I could do was accept it. I was so fucked, and I exploded, coming.

It wasn't long before I felt Wilson's cock start spasming in my mouth, and I swallowed it. It wasn't but seconds later, I felt both Dawson and Lane come too. This was why I came; I didn't know it, but it was.

We spent the rest of the day fucking each other. As best as I can remember, each one came in me three or four times. I lost count of my orgasms.

I love being Justin’s part-time wife. I love it when I’m not, and I love it when I am. XOXO. Or maybe XQXQ hugs and fuck, hugs and fuck.