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Chapter 5 Morgan and Corrine
Morgan showed up a little after 9:00. I introduced him to Corrine and things got weird immediately.
“Take your clothes off,” said Morgan while he was shaking her hand.
“Why,” I demanded angrily. Somehow the idea my wife would be getting naked had never come up. Things were happening too fast for me.
“Because I say so and I’m the one with a gun,” said Morgan pulling his jacket aside to reveal the large nickel-plated semi-automatic.
Corrine pulled her blouse out of the top of her slacks and started unbuttoning. “It’s okay, Tom. Just give me a minute, Morgan.”
My manly pride evaporated as I stood there and watched my wife strip down to her bra and panties. I felt so miserable I considered rushing him so he would blow my brains out. But what would that have gotten Corrine or me?
“All wrong,” said Morgan walking a circle around Corrine letting his hand trail around her waist. She was down to a basic white bra, full cotton panty, and trousers’ socks. At work, Corrine dressed for comfort.
“This is what I normally wear,” said Corrine.
“Got anything sexier,” asked Morgan?
“Such as,” asked Corrine?
“Heels, hose, but not pantyhose, and one of those things that hold up hose,” said Morgan.
“A garter belt,” said Corrine.
“Yeah, a garter belt,” said Morgan.
“We’re an imaging studio not Victoria Secrets,” I said in a tone of exasperation.
“There’s some lingerie in the prop room left from a shoot we did last month. Let me go check,” said Corrine before hurrying off. She gave me a look ordering me to behave.
She was referring to a small job we did for a Web site that sold risqué lingerie. You could buy the same things at the mall but some people prefer online shopping. Morgan and I stood there watching Corrine’s butt as she walked away.
“Didn’t know your wife was that hot. You get off watching her with other men?” said Morgan rubbing his crotch as he looked at me.
“No, I do not get off watching her with other men,” I said defiantly.
“Better if you did cause it’s going to happen whether you like it or not. She’s a prime piece of tail.”
I decided to change the subject. “Who are they bringing?”
“You in the military,” asked Morgan?
“Army.”
“Air Force, ever hear the phrase, on a need to know basis,” asked Morgan?
“Yes, of course.” You heard that stupid phrase all the time in Uncle Sam’s army.
“Well, I will tell you what you need to know so you don’t need to ask questions,” said Morgan.
“I do need to know what you plan to do to her.”
“You’re the director,” said Morgan. “You tell Jerome and his crew what to do.”
“Like in a porn flick,” I said.
“Yeah, stupid, all her holes, different positions, two cocks, three cocks, as many as they can get in her. Mr. Quarles is counting on you to produce a quality product, something he can be proud of when he shows the welching bastard how much his wife loves black men.”
My directing experience was limited to several fifteen minute infomercials I done over the last year. Other than those, it was thirty second and one-minute commercials. The infomercials had turned out all right. You can watch one of them seven nights a week at 2:30 in the morning if you got cable.
My recollection was interrupted by the sound of high heels tapping on the concrete floor.
“Much better,” said Morgan as Corrine approached from the direction of the stockroom.
Corrine was wearing white everything: high heels, hose, garter belt, thong panty and bra. White looked good on her with her blonde hair and dark copper tan. She thrown on a short silk gown but left it open. She’d done some modeling when she was in college. When she reached Morgan she turned gracefully around allowing the robe to slip off in her hand just like a runway model.
“Come here, beautiful,” said Morgan taking Corrine in her arms. She stiffened for a moment then relaxed.
“We may just give up on the girl Jerome is bringing and gangbang you,” said Morgan allowing one hand to drop to Corrine’s almost bare bottom.
“Mr. Quarles wouldn’t like that,” said Corrine pressing against him.
I was having difficulty processing what was happening. On one hand, Corrine was saving me from emasculation and I should be eternally grateful. She was doing exactly what I had begged her to do.
On the other hand, the way she was pushing her sex against his crotch made me want to jerk her away and slap her silly. I also wanted to kill Morgan but the odds of him killing me first were much better.
“Ever been with a black man,” asked Morgan reaching inside the too small bra to free Corrine’s breast? The model who did the Web shoot was a Size Four with model’s A cup breasts. Corrine was a C cup and the bra barely covered her nipples.
“No, I never dated one and I only slept with men I was in a relationship with.”
Morgan kept talking as he moved the other bra cup aside exposing Corrine’s erect nipple. His black hand covered her pale breast making a strong contrast in skin tone. We have an in ground pool and her bikini had left tan lines. “So, a black man never asked you out?”
“No, never,” said Corrine after thinking a moment. She was a relentlessly honest person.
“You worried about something, Tom,” asked Morgan turning toward me? Driving me insane was part of his fun.
I answered quietly like the whipped dog I was, “No, nothing.”
Morgan kissed Corrine. I never wanted to murder anyone so badly in my life. The fact she kissed him back made it worse. I just stood there fuming while they swapped spit. I’d expected Corrine to go along reluctantly. On the other hand, I knew she was the kind of person who once she agreed to something gave it her all. Looking back, she had a much better grasp of our situation than I did. She was insuring our survival while I was choking on my male ego.
Morgan broke the deep kissing and turned in my direction. “Let’s see if Tom gets a hard on while I check you out as a fluffer. While you were changing, Tom told me he was looking forward to watching you suck off other men, especially black men.”
“He did, did he,” said Corrine giving me a look communicating I was to calm down.
“No, I’m not,” I said but without any real conviction.
“Look. Tom’s got a come stain on his trousers, poor bastard,” said Morgan before taking Corrine by the hand and leading her toward the bed.
When I looked down I saw he was right. I was wearing summer weight gabardine slacks. They were light tan and a highly visible wet spot was dead center in the flap covering my zipper. It was the kind of thing that happens in high school when you’d been staring at a cheerleader’s crotch too long.
When I looked up, Morgan had taken a seat on the edge of the bed. He was leaning back, supporting himself with his arms. I watched as Corrine unbuckled and unzipped his pants them slid them along with his briefs to his knees. Without any hesitation whatsoever, my wife knelt down and took his cock in her mouth.
“Make yourself useful, Tom. Check the equipment or something,” said Morgan as he relaxed back on the bed.
You have no one to blame but yourself, asshole, was what I told myself as I walked to the Control Room. You’re the idiot who lost quarter million dollars. I took a seat in the director’s chair and powered on the robotic cameras surrounding the bed. The screens flickered to life and I had a five-sided high definition view of my wife sucking another man’s cock.
Corrine was kneeling between Morgan’s legs. Both her boobs were now out of the bra. At the moment, she was stroking the shaft while licking his balls.
I should mention Corrine is fabulous in bed. She’s energetic, aggressive, and uninhibited. Plus she’s creative, always finding new ways to keep our sex life interesting. Since we became a couple, those were qualities enjoyed only by yours truly until tonight. However, at the moment, a black thug who I knew only by one name was also getting the best blowjob I’d ever experienced.
I watched as she worked on Morgan. His black cock was glistening. I refrained from getting into comparing sizes; however I’d guess we were equivalent. Morgan’s seemed a little longer but mine was thicker. I made some adjustments to the cameras to true up the color. Then without thinking I flipped on the microphones.
“Suck that black dick, bitch,” blared through the speaker startling me. I grabbed the dial to turn the volume down.
That was accompanied by the grunting noise Corrine makes when she sucks my dick only this time it wasn’t my dick. Corrine was one of those lucky women who get turned on when they perform orally. I had marveled the first time she blew me when she managed to bring herself to a simultaneous orgasm by the judicious application of her fingers to her clit.
I watched and listened for a while then I took my already erect manhood out and began to masturbate.
All right I am a prick, a creep who got his wife in this situation then couldn’t resist jerking off to it. Stroking my cock with one hand, I took the overhead camera’s controls in the other. I pressed the button on the side of the joystick changing the focus. Slowly, the camera zoomed in. I didn’t stop until the screen was filled with my wife’s face and Morgan’s dick.
She was giving him her best. One minute hollowed cheeks sucking hard. Next she had her lips pressed against his pubic hair as she forced the cockhead into her throat. Then she backed off working the underside of the shaft with her tongue. I was stroking my rock hard prick while her tongue was swirling around his tip. The high def camera captured the spider webs of drool between his penis and her chin. Thick ropes of saliva were dripping off her chin down to her boobs.
“Going to blow, bitch, take it, take it all and keep it,” said Morgan as he began to climax.
Corrine’s hollowed out cheeks indicated compliance. My wife can suck you dry.
“Show me,” said Morgan sitting up when he finished.
Corrine opened her mouth. Her tongue was covered in semen.
“Look up at the camera and swallow it,” said Morgan somehow sensing I was watching.
The camera captured the movement of Corrine’s throat as she swallowed. I blew my load so hard it arched into the air and landed on the keyboard.
I spent the next few minutes cleaning come out of the keys with a Q-tip.
“Everything’s ready,” I said as I approached the bed where the two of them were seated engaged in post oral sex chitchat. At that moment, Morgan’s cell phone sounded. The odd sounding ring tone, Corrine later informed me, was music from some dead black rapper.
“Open the door, Jerome’s here,” said Morgan.
I walked over and pushed the button. The truck door slowly opened and a black van drove into the building.
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