Oh sweet Jesus if only she could remember, but it was as if a thick smothering fog had enveloped her brain making everything surreal. Whatever the reason for her shameful predicament, whether she had, as she suspected, seduced the young Negro, or whether he had raped her, and of that she was strongly in doubt because other then what appeared to be a hickey on her right breast along with another on her inner thigh she had no marks, no bruises, nothing. As to the second part of her query about not being discovered the answer was simple, her husband as of late paid little attention to her sexually, but whether it was that or if she was just plain lucky she couldn't tell her husband that she had committed adultery he would never understand, and then she laughed maniacally because she herself didn't understand.

Though she had never really thought about it, she was sure that if for some unforeseen reason she were going to break her holy vows of marriage, the last person in the world she would even consider having intercourse with would be a Negro, but that's exactly what she'd done. After almost a week of being on pins and needles, along with being afraid to even look at her husband for fear he might be able to read her thoughts, the confrontation she knew was inevitable suddenly and without warning burst over her. But she wasn't prepared for when and how Warren approached her and she almost fainted when he suddenly materialized beside her while she was grocery shopping. The pressing of his body against hers as she'd straightened up after reaching for a can of sauce, along with his hot breath against her ear as he whispered he had a present for her, almost took her breath away and then he was gone, but not before pressing something into her hand.

It was a picture, a photo of her with blouse opened and spread to either side of her with her skirt about her waist while above her and with her legs entwined about him lay a naked black man, a black man she had no recollection of ever meeting. Slumping against her nearly full shopping cart she almost dropped the photo and then she noticed something written on the back. On legs feeling as if they were made of lead and without going through the checkout she walked to her car and then, as per the instructions on the back of the photo, waited for his arrival. For what seemed like an hour, but in reality was more like ten minutes, she sat wondering what Warren wanted and then suddenly her door opened and she was pulled from the car and into the arms of her tormentor. His lips mashed against hers and because of the suddenness and boldness of the act as well as the photo she still clutched in her hand she offered no resistance. Even the thought that someone might see, might even recognize her being kissed by a black man was strangely absent from her mind as his tongue slipped between her lips. Releasing her he turned her to face the car where while pinning her against it he nuzzled her neck and ground his pelvis against her pert little butt telling her he'd really enjoyed the show she'd put on the other night. After telling her to get back into the car he then slid in behind the wheel where, for the next half hour and along with a very descriptive dialog of her exploits, he took great pleasure in her discomfort.

In disbelief she looked at picture after picture showing her having sex with a multitude of black men, not in the pleasurable setting of a warm cozy bedroom but on a filthy mattress in what appeared to be a bar. Each picture was different but every one of them showed her taking a hard black organ in either her mouth, pussy or ass hole. But the ones that held her eye the longest, the ones she found almost too incredible to believe, were the ones showing her having sex with two and even three of the men simultaneously. With tears in her eyes and with a voice cracking and choked by sobbing she pleaded ignorance of the event saying that the evening had been a blur. But Warren, with an arm about her shoulders and the other occupied with undoing the buttons of her blouse paid little attention, instead he continued his story, his rather vivid and detailed story. The jest of which was that after leaving the restaurant she had demanded to go to a bar where along with having a few more drinks she began dancing and openly flirting with several men.

With mirth in his eyes he told how the men began groping and feeling of her body while she in return passionately kissed whichever one was fondling her. Smiling, he told how as she'd sat in a booth surrounded by the men and she'd let them open her blouse and then as two of them had taken turns kissing her she had let others push her skirt about her waist and soon her panties as well as her bra disappeared into someone's pocket, but still she refused to leave with any of them when the offer to take her back to their crib came up. After a while though the men grew tired of her teasing and several of them had told her if she wasn't going to give up some of that fine white pussy to get the fuck out of their bar.

Listening to his narration of that nights events she learned how within minutes of the ultimatum she with a confused look had turned to him the only one she really knew saying that she'd never made love to anyone but her husband, besides she'd heard stories that black men's things were as long as an arm and if true would split her in two. He told how when the men had heard her excuse they had pulled out their dicks waving them at her while laughingly telling her that a sexy cunt like her shouldn't have any trouble taking their dicks. Mesmerized she had looked from their dicks into their eyes and then back at their dicks before slowly reaching out and clasping the two closest ones in her small white hands. Minutes later she slid to her knees kissing first one and then the other and even though she didn't take them all the way into her mouth she did make them cum.

After that things happened fast and soon she was naked except for her glasses and the cross about her neck and she was on a mattress in the rear of the bar taking one cock after the other. Like a cock crazed whore she had screamed for them to fuck her and soon all seven of the men were around and atop her shoving their various sized black cocks into her every hole, not once but several times and there Warren's narration ended. For a moment she sat in silence and denial with her chin against her bare chest, her mind in turmoil as she looked at his dark hand upon her bare breast. She had known that as he was telling his story he was removing her blouse and bra and now with his fingers pulling and stretching her nipples she didn't need to hear his threat of exposure to know what he wanted and what was expected of her.

Angelia, with a tortured look in her eyes, stared into Warren's smiling face as with a small squeaking voice said it was all a mistake, that she was a good girl, the wife of a Preacher and would never do what he said she did. Laughing he told her she was like all the rest, doing whatever she wanted as long as she thought she could get away with it, but this time she'd been caught and whether she wanted to blame her actions on drinking or whatever it was time to pay the piper. Tightening his fingers over her right nipple he squeezed as with a smirking voice he said she was just a horny slut that had just been looking for some excuse to let herself go and then his hand touched the back of her head telling her to get busy.

With her memory clouded with only snatches of ghost like shadows whispering to her along with a sensation of rapturous bliss she was at a lose to understand what had really happened. If only she could remember, but she couldn't, and what about the pictures? Would anyone believe they were doctored, that he'd had her face airbrushed in, she doubted it. So along with his vivid narration of that nights events and her inability to refute the authenticity of the pictures she was left with no choice and her fingers loosened his pants after which with a slight lifting of his buttocks from the seat on his part she pulled his pants from his hips exposing his genitalia. With the instinct of survival upper most in her mind along with not wanting to shame her husband or to have his congregation learn what she'd done, she willingly slipped under his control. Without resistance to the hand lightly resting on the back of her head she moved downward as his whispered voice commanded her to suck his nigger cock.

Seeing no other option and having little choice her mouth opened and with less then two inches separating his cock from her puckered lips her nose wrinkled as his musky odor wafted up, and there in the front seat of her car in a public parking lot her acceptance of his cock between her lips signaled her surrender to what ever he might demand of her both now and in the future. Her fervent hope that he would be satisfied with using her maybe once every week or so was a forlorn one, and so too was the hope that only he would use her, but in both cases she was sadly mistaken. Before the month was out she was entertaining not only him but quite a few of his friends as well, and not just once every week or so but several times a week, and to compound her shame he continued to take pictures. Despite his assurances that the pictures were only for his use, as a means to keep her in line she sensed differently though she couldn't prove anything, and as far as his friends, well nobody had that many and she strongly suspected he was pimping her, but again she really couldn't prove anything.