Don Bixby was quiet, listening, but at first, there was no sound. The single living room lamp on the end table was the total illumination in the dim room. The TV was off. A loud grunt and gasp emanated from the bedroom and caused him to jump. His eyes locked on the massive black man on the sofa across from him, a smug half-smile on the man's dark face. He did not startle or speak at the sound.

"Oh my God, it hurts, go slow," a woman's voice from the bedroom gasped. There was no mistaking the voice, it was Don's wife Lydia. He started to stand in protest, but the large black man seated opposite him motioned him back down.

"Easy there bro, this thing is just starting. No need to get all tore up at the get-go."

There was a second gasp from the room, louder, a pop from lips parting lips, and then a soft steady moan that eased into a roll of soft feminine "oh, oh, oh, oh," interrupted by an occasional male grunt.

There was a conversation in the bedroom, muffled. Don was unable to distinguish words, except when the conversation punctured the silence with a moan that turned into a drawn-out "Yesssss" that sounded as if hissed through closed teeth.

Don had heard those same sounds before, gratifying sounds that told him his wife Lydia was starting to build toward a toe-curling orgasm. It didn't happen often when they made love, and her unique sound as she did was unforgettable to Don.

Don took a long deep breath. The man in the other room with Lydia had tripped her trigger, Don grimaced because all he could do now was sit in the winged back chair and listen as another man, a huge black man, ravished his wife.

Don knew when her resistance crumbled by the changed timbre of her voice, a squeal that went up an octave. Lydia's moans were louder, a distinctive familiar feminine mew that caused him to picture his wife Lydia's face as he had seen her making those sounds often before, her eyes closed and a bead of sweat on her upper lip.

The next sounds were even louder, the "pop, pop, pop" of flesh meeting flesh, of bare pubis and bare pubis slapping together in a steady rhythm that steadily speeded, punctuated with a singsong lilt of "oh, yes, Oh my God, shit, damn, like that, yes, oh yes," with a masculine grunt joining the chorus.

Don closed his eyes trying to distance himself from the sounds, but inside his closed lids his mind showed a reel of what he was hearing. He was waiting for the moans to rescind and fade away, but they continued. It was long past a typical sex session with Don and Lydia. With the other man, it didn't end. It continued, the whumping of two joined bodies copulating, dragging on for long minutes. Don wondered if it would ever end.

He opened his eyes with the Lydia's screamed, "FUCK ME!"

The words were clear and distinct now, increased in volume and distinct. "Harder," she said.

"You like this big dick?"

"I had no idea, oh my God. Fuck me."

"Like it?"

"Love it. Fuck me hard."

"You want it?" The male voice said. "How bad you want it?"

"I want it. I love it. Give it to me. Give it all to me."

"Sure?"

"Yes," the feminine voice said. "Please don't stop fucking me."

Don squeezed his eyes shut. Then as if in harmony the two voices gave louder almost harmonized moans, building to a crescendo that was almost a shout -- then a hushed silence.

Carter said nothing, assuming they were finished and stepped to the open door. Don followed, not knowing what to expect, likely two lovers cuddling, maybe his wife under a sheet, but instead what he saw was two white legs extending on either side of a black man lying between them, his ass rising and falling, his arm thick black cock appearing and disappearing inside the woman underneath him. Her hands were on his ass, pulling him into her, and softly saying over and over, "Fuck me."

Carter turned and motioned Don back into the living room. "Let's give them a few minutes."

Don sat there with his mind reeling. He could not unsee what he had seen. His beautiful wife on her back being fucked by a large black man-and enjoying it. His heart was pounding. He wanted to scream, cry, and wanted this horror to end. In the back of his mind, he wanted to drag her out of there right now, take her home and fuck the memory of this night out of her head, but it was all impossible.

It was several minutes before the large black man loomed in the doorway, naked but holding a towel in his left hand, gripping the top of the doorway with the other, his cock long but soft, glistening with a coating of moisture, a long drop of white cum dripping off the tip of his purple cock. He took no notice of his nudity; he might as well have been clothed.

Glancing at the clothed black man on the couch he smiled. "Your turn brother, I got it stretched and lubed up for you, and she's ready for another one. I just got her started. Get in there Carter and do your duty."

The bulky black man on the couch stood and stretched, glanced at Don with a smirking sideways grin. Carter moved past the nude man in the doorway, unbuckling his pants as he did.

The nude black man wiped his cock with the towel, taking the seat on the sofa formerly occupied by Carter. He stared at Don, smiling. Don did not speak, seething, but concerned about Lydia now inside the room with Carter. Don started to ask if Lydia was all right, but the black man held up his hand as if to stop Don speaking. Don waited.

The nude black man threw the towel across his lap, looked down at his phone that had been concealed by the towel, and smiled. His thumbs moved quickly. He looked up at Don. Don's phone chirped with an incoming message.

"I think you have a text," the black man said. "You may want to look."

Don took his cell from the belt clip, typed in his security code, and touched the messages icon. It was from Leron, the huge black man sitting on the couch opposite him. There was a photo attached. He opened the photo and spreading his fingers enlarged it. A young beautiful woman was nude, on a bed, half-reclining on her side, staring straight into the camera with a smile, the red nipples on her breasts rock hard, glistening as if they had been sucked rigid and left with a saliva coating. One leg was flat, the other raised with her foot behind her other knee, the pose displaying a thick coating of white cum pouring from her pussy and down her leg. It was his wife Lydia.

As Don stared as he heard a moan again from the bedroom, the words, "So big," and "Fuck me, lover." Carter was starting to fuck her, even as Don stared at the aftermath of her having finished a long loud fuck with Leron moments before.

Lydia's moans became louder, quicker than with Leron, the sounds of her gasping for breath forming unintelligible words in the language of lust. Neither Don nor Leron spoke, both listening.

Leron rose and closed the door, sitting back down on the couch. "Girl seems to be taking to black dick pretty well, don't you think?" he said, taunting Don.

"Apparently." Don deadpanned.

Leron smiled. "Shit man, you haven't figured this out yet, but this is a win, win, win, for everyone. Even you." Leron's smile gave way to a raucous laugh at Don's expense. "Even you," he repeated.

Don closed his eyes again. What had he done to deserve this hell he was in? Leron didn't miss the opportunity to twist the knife a little more.

"Don't worry Don, this is just the first night, only 69 more days to go. Shit, way the girl's taking to it, she'll prove the "once you go black no going back".

Don felt a shudder. This was a nightmare, but he had to admit it was a nightmare of their own making. Leron confirmed it.

"Funny how things work out ain't it? You and she started out to fuck me and look who's getting fucked now."