Married to the Game

Author’s Notes: Sometimes we bypass the category and keywords up above just to get to the story at hand. I’m just letting you know that this story features straight sex (i.e., it has a biological woman in it). So, if that isn’t your cup of tea, I got well over a hundred stories thus far that doesn’t have any inkling of straight sex in them for you to read. Thanks again!

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The funniest thing was I thought I was going to be the first to lure in some poor unsuspecting woman down the aisle and then cheat on her left and right. Of course, I was planning on being a gentleman about it, being discreet—at first—before becoming sloppy with my actions and eventually setting the tone to strut down to the courthouse to file for a divorce.

I always pictured my friend Mitch being the first to pop out of the closet in his motorcycle leather and vogue-ing his way down to the nearest gay parade route. The come-across straight-acting fuck had been married before. The first marriage was a charade and really didn’t count. She was a stern racist carpet muncher posing as a carefree fag hag with her eyes steadily on her provisional trust fund. But here he was, the furry fuck, getting married again. Not only was he putting himself in the line of fire, but he was also doing it again with another woman.

The major difference between the two wives was that his newest one is a heterosexual woman.

To put it plainly, as for it to not to be a complete understatement, his new wife Meghan is a complete nymphomaniac.

First off, it isn’t slander if it is true. And it very is as it comes to here.

Secondly, I would be lying if I said the girl didn’t have any charm behind bleach-blond mane. She had the allure of a rural girl fresh off the farm with naïve goals of making it big in the city.

Although I was good friends with Mitch, I never told him I met his soon-to-be wife first. In fact, neither of them knew each other at the time. I met one because of the other.

Meghan was one of those freaky white girls that shamelessly strolled down the aisles of Wal-Mart hungry for some “colored” dick. Black. Brown. Red. Yellow. It didn’t make much of a difference. And to top it off, she was like that potato chip commercial from back in the day, she couldn’t just have one. Two or more was the standard.

This is how I met her, flashing her pink panties to me and my boy Paco. Next thing I know, we’re at somebody’s crib. Paco had her pussy, I was digging in her ass, and she was alternating back and forth between these two other dudes giving head.

I knew she wasn’t a virgin to get hemmed up like that, but it wasn’t long before I came across her tag as the “Super Store Slut.” She was so well used by the men in the community they pledge to pitch in to get her tubes tied. Because heaven forbid if she ever got knocked up! She may not be able to tell Maury who the father of her baby could possibly be, but she could tell whose dick belonged to whom in a blind taste and feel test.

I don’t ever think she was “turned out” per se, based on prior experience. I just think she was told by her ultra conservative Rebel-flag redneck parent to stay in her lane and stick within her white race. Even though she was known to take on big-dick white studs, she had a little rebel of her own ser own serving up all the other racial colors of the rainbow.

Mitch was different.

He was a strait-laced motorcycle-loving dude that once had it all. Back then, his interaction with other races were either from afar, if not far and few between. But that had more to do with his social circles than anything else. That all changed when he got greedy and got his ass sent to prison. He admitted he was sort of glad he got sent up the river. He always thought he was a fag, and naively thought prison would be a place to quench his curiosity without repercussions. Fortunately for Ron, he wasn’t “initiated” into prison with four or five guys on his back. He was taken in by this big black stud that made him his prison wife his first night. From what he told me, they had a “marriage” with plenty of sex, clearing up years of sexual questioning. Halfway through Ron’s Sentence, his prison husband died of a massive heart attack. He wasn’t even allowed but a minute to grieve before a prison gang stormed his cell and ran a train on him. Instead of being the worst thing in his life, he found it quite calming after such a tragedy that so many men wanted to share the same hole his husband had to himself for so many years.

He assumed after they had him he would be passed off to some low-wrung gangbanger. To his surprise, he was kept as the “house bitch” for the entire gang, forced to wear butt-hugging Tidy Whites until someone decided he needed to dye them all pink, making them out to be makeshift panties.

Ron said the second half of his sentence was a blur after that. He was passed around so frequently it practically ate up all his time.

Once he was released, he went through withdrawal. He was fiending for it like crack to a crackhead. But there was hardly any place to feed the need except to travel out forty miles to the Rest Area at night and suck off the horny truckers. It offered a mild fix. His appetite however was for black dick, something of his neck of the woods.

He moved, landing a job as a foreman to an all-black staff, with my boy Kirk who was one of his subordinates. He used to tell me all the time something was up with his boss man. He couldn’t put it into words, except he always kept one of his black male employees in his office. He never really wanted anything other than to talk, and hint around about the curious sex lives of his employees.

One night my other boy Gary and I was horny as hell when we came across this number to this chatline strictly for man-and-woman hookups. We thought we might come across a woman that would do us in a threesome. At the time, we were looking for born-ready women, so of course the line was littered with pre-opt transsexuals on the women’s side. As we scanned through the messages hoping to luck up on some freaky women, we came across this message from this baritone-based country bumpkin talking about strutting around in some women’s panties, being a whore for black cock. The way the guy’s voice contradicted what he was willing to do was something that intrigued me. Seeing that my friend claimed to be 100% hetero, I was ready to pass it on up until Gary mentioned he was interested in seeing this, too.

After a little back and forth, he gave us his number and we drove over to his crib. It was so littered with motorcycles and parts we thought we were led on a wild goose chase. We were tempted to turn back, but something in us just said ring the doorbell. And to our disbelief, we were at the right door with this furry redheaded fuck parading around in some pink see-through panties.

He offered us a seat on his sofa along with some Coronas and sucked us off as we gulped our beers down. He was slightly teed we didn’t play with his panties or hairy ass. But being we were black and vowing to comeback, he rode his black dildo in anticipation. I knew after Ron sucked us off a few times that Gary wasn’t going to venture beyond the typical blowjob. I made it my sole duty to please Ron’s booty, toying with it for a few days before making that plunge in it.

He turned into a total bitch in heat after that. Anytime my dick thought about getting hard around him, it was down his throat or up his candy ass with no questions asked. I guess my lust for him, and his eager ass began to eat into my time with my friends because they were getting concerned about my after-work disappearing act.

After a couple of more weeks, I let a couple of my friends in on the secret, taking turns fucking him. It soon started to look like one of those black gangbang pornos with that token white bottom taking miles of dick in every hole.

Between bouts of sex, the two of us became oddly endearing friends. I was the best man during his first wedding, and tried to have his back the moment he professed he was going to live life as an openly gay man that loved black dick.

I assumed things were going to plan until he informed us after one of our weekly get-togethers he was getting married again. And when we found out it was to Meghan, a chick that we all banged and in some cases was still banging, we had the decency not to laugh in his face, knowing she was trying to clean up her reputation and he wasn’t exactly out. Most importantly, after the vows were said we knew that one of them was going to give up the drawers.

It was in their nature.

Barely a month after their wedding, I led two of my fellas over to their house to start some trouble. I thought if we could get the two of them together, air open their pasts and resume our fucking. What hadn’t come across our mind (but should’ve) was to only find one of them at home. Somewhat of an added bonus, if we could get a nutt before the other spouse returned home.

Meghan practically led us from the front door to the back, stripping her clothes off as we followed behind her. The only thing she kept on were her pink panties as she fought to take each of us in her mouth, palming the other two in her hands.

It was like old times, watching her handling dick like she was a juggler. She was doing such an excellent job that nobody bothered to reminder her that she vowed to change her ways after she got married.

“Get my dick nice and wet, bitch!”

“Suck it, yeah!”

“She's swallowing that shit.”

“I bet that pussy is fired up!”

“Waiting on some dicks to run up in it!”

These were just a few of the things said before I took a seat in the recliner in the corner and lubed up while the two of them picked her up off the floor and impaled her on my dick. For a newlywed she was unreasonably tight, tighter than she was before. I handed off some lube to one of my fellas as she eased his dick into her ass.

She was being stuffed to the brim with my other boy, filling her mouth.

We went at her a good little while as my fellas switched places, taking turns in her ass and muffling the yelps wanting to escape out of her mouth.

It took everybody by surprise—even me—that I was the one to come first. She was too damn tight to hang. She must have been tight in other places, too. My boy in her ass was stammering as he broke a load off in her ass while the other one flooded her throat.

“Don’t be spillin’ them dead babies on me.” I said to her, watching the cum foam out of her mouth.

While this was going on, we heard what sounded like a soft funny sneeze come from the closet.

“What the fuck?”

I scooted Meghan up off me and investigate what was going on in the closet.

My boy beat me to the punch to find Ron in the closet with nothing on but his pink panties.

I thought at first that this was some sort of planned shit. Like she would do all of us and he would watch from a distance. The shock on her face and the hurt in his eyes said it all.

“I don’t know why either of you look so devastated,” I said. “She’s a slut and he’s a dick-lover.”

I instructed Meghan to get on the bed. I told Ron to go over there and kiss her on the mouth and fish out as much cum as he could. He was then instructed to eat out our other deposits left in her cunt and ass.

He lapped it up like a kitten to a bowl of milk while we stood around looking on and laughing up a storm. Calling him every name but the one he was born with. I took a seat back in the chair, letting the fellas pushed him out of the way.

Watching them taking turns to do her again, got me excited all over again. Ron was standing around in his panties looking like a lost cause.

“Bring your ass over here.” I finally barked.

He tried to put on a front, acting all hesitant. I broke the ice by shouting at his wife, shouting obscenities from her fucking, about how her new hubby took dick better than she ever did. She was too caught up to respond. That didn’t stop me from telling tidbits about our past rendezvous. Telling the room about the time we took Ron and his panties to a motel room where we filled him up with Vaseline and fucked the night away.

I could tell by the look in his eyes Ron remembered the night quite well too. He was getting excited about it. He knew the only way to quench his thirst was to open his mouth and take as much of it as he could.

“See, I knew you ass wasn’t used to drinking secondhand cum. You get your shit straight from the tap!”

It was just what he needed to hear, attempting to suck the life out of my dick. Whether Meghan heard me or not when I put Ron’s business out there, I thought it was only fair to tell some of hers. Telling him about the time we filled several shot glasses of cum mixed it with rum and challenged her to drink it up. She downed fifteen shots with an average of four loads a shot. She gulped down a lot.

Meghan was on the bed enjoying her orgasm helping my friends do the same. All the grunting got the best of me, and before I knew it, I was skeeting a load down Ron’s throat while they unloaded inside of her.

I happily sent him off to eat the cum overflowing out of his wife. But he was intercepted by my two friends to clean them up. When he finished with them, he walked over to his wife and resumed to clean her up again. While he did that, I slathered on some lube and took a crack at the asshole for old time’s sake. He was probably more eager about getting fucked than she was, throwing his ass back at me at great speed like it was our last fuck as the world was coming to an end.

Covered in sweat and watching his new bride look on in disbelief, I shot my load deep inside his hole and told him to push it out so she could see it.

I knew after that day neither one of them were bound to separate. In a way, I knew with their secrets out in the open about their love of dick should have bonded them forever. What I didn’t expect as I was visiting a freaky-deaky shop was to find her face plastered on the cover box as some sweet-faced white girl taken advantage of by some big black men while her husband was in the gay section pretty much looking the same.