Patricia's truth
of
JessicaMtF
genre
domination
I`ll never understand how this mess started, I`ll never forgive myself for taking the eye off the ball long enough to get here, but here I am.
Sitting in front of my large screen television, watching the paused screen shot of my wife of twenty years, naked, save for a black leather mask and a dog collar about her neck. She was kneeling by a chair with a huge black guy sitting there grinning back at the camera.
I knew it was her, the picture was high definition, and I would know that forty two year old, perfectly trimmed body anywhere. My fingers would barely hit the keys as I pressed play.
It had been a long day at work. The hum drum of the office, melting into yet another boring existence. The day crawled by, it was like time had stopped or slowed to point when even the clock barely ticked.
When the end of trading day alarm sounded, there was a collective relief expressed, and people suddenly rushed to clear and leave this dull life for home. Checking coat pocket, car keys, lighter smokes and phone.
I headed for the elevator, with my co workers unaware of the text message that I was about to get until the doors closed and that familiar ding sounded. Checking it, I saw a message from my wife, Patricia.
The message read, "I am sorry, I love you, press play when you get home" strange, I couldn't remember her doing anything wrong. So the message made no sense. I hurried home.
No sign of pat, when I came into my home. I checked all round until but she wasn't there. And then I saw the image on the screen in our bedroom.
The image came to life, the sound of sobbing in the background distracted me for a moment, as this guy started to unbuckle his jeans.
When they say " black men are larger than white" they where being economical. I watched as he stroked it, his eyes never leaving the camera. She didn't move, knelt hand on her knees back straight, head, albeit masked held upright. And those breasts that nourished our daughter, where heaving as if she was trying to keep herself calm.
I guess the guy thought his tool was hard enough. He reached for the back of her mask, and grabbed the ponytail of white hair in his big meaty hand, slowly guiding her mouth to his dick.
I just sat, watching, my body betraying me as I breathed heavy, but my eyes went back to this guys, and he just started at the camera. The lips of my wife parted and I saw her barely struggle to get that head in her mouth.
I watched transfixed as she sank down the shaft, taking little by little into her throat as she paused but his hand pressed and she sank onto it. Letting her withdraw only enough to gasp a breath before slowly sliding down deeper once more.
The speed of her blowjob was like today, painfully slow. Each time a little deeper, a bigger breath gasped, and his eyes never leaving the camera. No words spoken yet but the sound was grinding on my mind of her gasps for air, of her wet mouth on his cock.
My mind raced, searching her body, checking and checking that I was indeed watching my wife sucking this huge black cock into her that, holding it a moment until the air ran out, and off it to gasp before returning to her task.
His eyes closed, he lifted his ass a single moment, and my wife struggled in his grasp as he obviously had cum deep into her throat. And then she was lifted from his cock, her gasp as she tried to get much needed air into her lungs will remain with my memory of her in this act, forever.
The big black and tan hand still gripped her head as he pulled her to his cock once more, it appeared to be tightening in her ponytail, as he rubbed the tip of his dick on her mouth. The white slurry finding her lip, her tongue and she started to clean his spend.
Once he was satisfied it was clean, he let her go, and my wife, retook her station knelt at his feet. His eyes still in the camera. And the screen faded to black.
I think at that moment, I passed out. Unable to process what was to me, the worst possible situation. It was my phone ringing a new message that brought me out of that moment. " Patricia will be home, tomorrow morning, she will be unharmed, if you follow these simple instructions :- you will not talk about this to her or anyone else, or I will know. You will not contact the police, you will comply with texted instructions. Fail and She fails. Obey and this will all be over soon. "
I read that text five times, before I searched the house, ending up at our breakfast bar, pouring a cup of coffee and trying to get my head around what id been shown and told. The image in my head, her, knelt, her mouth, that cock, his eyes that never left the camera.
I`ll never understand how this mess started, I`ll never forgive myself for taking the eye off the ball long enough to get here, but here I am.
Sitting in front of my large screen television, watching the paused screen shot of my wife of twenty years, naked, save for a black leather mask and a dog collar about her neck. She was kneeling by a chair with a huge black guy sitting there grinning back at the camera.
I knew it was her, the picture was high definition, and I would know that forty two year old, perfectly trimmed body anywhere. My fingers would barely hit the keys as I pressed play.
It had been a long day at work. The hum drum of the office, melting into yet another boring existence. The day crawled by, it was like time had stopped or slowed to point when even the clock barely ticked.
When the end of trading day alarm sounded, there was a collective relief expressed, and people suddenly rushed to clear and leave this dull life for home. Checking coat pocket, car keys, lighter smokes and phone.
I headed for the elevator, with my co workers unaware of the text message that I was about to get until the doors closed and that familiar ding sounded. Checking it, I saw a message from my wife, Patricia.
The message read, "I am sorry, I love you, press play when you get home" strange, I couldn't remember her doing anything wrong. So the message made no sense. I hurried home.
No sign of pat, when I came into my home. I checked all round until but she wasn't there. And then I saw the image on the screen in our bedroom.
The image came to life, the sound of sobbing in the background distracted me for a moment, as this guy started to unbuckle his jeans.
When they say " black men are larger than white" they where being economical. I watched as he stroked it, his eyes never leaving the camera. She didn't move, knelt hand on her knees back straight, head, albeit masked held upright. And those breasts that nourished our daughter, where heaving as if she was trying to keep herself calm.
I guess the guy thought his tool was hard enough. He reached for the back of her mask, and grabbed the ponytail of white hair in his big meaty hand, slowly guiding her mouth to his dick.
I just sat, watching, my body betraying me as I breathed heavy, but my eyes went back to this guys, and he just started at the camera. The lips of my wife parted and I saw her barely struggle to get that head in her mouth.
I watched transfixed as she sank down the shaft, taking little by little into her throat as she paused but his hand pressed and she sank onto it. Letting her withdraw only enough to gasp a breath before slowly sliding down deeper once more.
The speed of her blowjob was like today, painfully slow. Each time a little deeper, a bigger breath gasped, and his eyes never leaving the camera. No words spoken yet but the sound was grinding on my mind of her gasps for air, of her wet mouth on his cock.
My mind raced, searching her body, checking and checking that I was indeed watching my wife sucking this huge black cock into her that, holding it a moment until the air ran out, and off it to gasp before returning to her task.
His eyes closed, he lifted his ass a single moment, and my wife struggled in his grasp as he obviously had cum deep into her throat. And then she was lifted from his cock, her gasp as she tried to get much needed air into her lungs will remain with my memory of her in this act, forever.
The big black and tan hand still gripped her head as he pulled her to his cock once more, it appeared to be tightening in her ponytail, as he rubbed the tip of his dick on her mouth. The white slurry finding her lip, her tongue and she started to clean his spend.
Once he was satisfied it was clean, he let her go, and my wife, retook her station knelt at his feet. His eyes still in the camera. And the screen faded to black.
I think at that moment, I passed out. Unable to process what was to me, the worst possible situation. It was my phone ringing a new message that brought me out of that moment. " Patricia will be home, tomorrow morning, she will be unharmed, if you follow these simple instructions :- you will not talk about this to her or anyone else, or I will know. You will not contact the police, you will comply with texted instructions. Fail and She fails. Obey and this will all be over soon. "
I read that text five times, before I searched the house, ending up at our breakfast bar, pouring a cup of coffee and trying to get my head around what id been shown and told. The image in my head, her, knelt, her mouth, that cock, his eyes that never left the camera.
I`ll never understand how this mess started, I`ll never forgive myself for taking the eye off the ball long enough to get here, but here I am.
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