Read The Return Home, which is “Part 1” of this series…
Yesterday’s flight home wasn’t bad at all, but the last three weeks had taken their toll on me. However, my wife welcoming me back “home” and into the house gave me the energy I needed. We wore each other out, and that’s a wonderful thing. I know we didn’t stop at round two, but I remember falling asleep while my cock remained nestled inside her. How I woke up, however, was somewhat jarring.
I couldn’t have gotten any more than five hours of sleep when I thought I felt my wife’s hands on my balls. This wasn’t unusual for us, for she would idly fondle and squeeze my nuts and tree as we watched television together. She says that it is soothing to her. There were times her touching me turned into passionate, unbridled sex. Sometimes, she would have to stop my tongue from doing the job of soothing her. (Hey, I’m a “giver.”) But, at other times, I couldn’t even sleep until her soft hands caressed me into unconsciousness. As you can imagine, being away from her led to quite a bit of restlessness. But, after her loving me back into the house, I didn’t have to worry about that anymore.
I was lying on my back, internally smiling and reveling in the feeling of her hands massaging my sac. It wasn’t the fact that my wife held my nuts in her hands that was so alarming. Actually, I enjoyed that haziness between the shores of unconsciousness and being awake, and her touching me made it even better. It was, however, the slight clink of stainless steel closing and encircling my sac, just above my balls, that caused my eyes to bolt open. I saw the ceiling and immediately looked at my hangers. My stunningly beautiful babygirl had straddled my legs and still held my parts in her hand. But, surrounding my sac was a tightened-shut 24oz ball weight/cuff that she got for me during our first year of marriage. I had worn it before and fell in love with the constant “tug” it gave me, for it made me think of my wife’s relaxing and tantalizing grip on my jewels.
The small Allen wrench disappeared as she folded her hands shut. The quizzical look on my face said it all.
“Today,” she said, “you are my servant. This weight that I’ve locked around one of my favorite parts of you will serve as a reminder of who you belong to and the role you will fulfill. Be a good boy, and the weight comes off. Be bad—and I so hope you will—and the weight stays on until you’ve learned your lesson.”
She has to know that she’s already in trouble.
I was instantly hard, my dark wood standing at perfect attention with its helmet flirting with the top of her tummy. In one movement, I pulled her toward me and put her on her back with me atop her. She reached between my legs and gave me a little pull that forced a pleasant grunt from me. I kissed her deeply. “I’m here to serve, not be served. And I can please you now if you wish.”
She smiled that smile that always lets me know that fun things are in store. I went in for another kiss, but my babygirl stopped me.
“Until I say otherwise, the only response I should hear from you is, ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Or, you may say, ‘As you wish, wife.’ Maybe even a combination of the two. Is that clear?”
“As you wish, ma’am.”
I went in for that kiss because I knew what was about to happen was going to be lit. But, my babygirl stopped me again.
“Since you’re so eager to serve, I’m hungry. I want breakfast.”
I sat up on my knees and gestured toward my throbbing dick that was causing the ball weight to swing with every pump of blood. Obviously, I wasn’t getting the picture.
“The kitchen, servant. Cook breakfast for your amazing wife.”
I stared at her, silently sulking and hoping she was joking. But, she didn’t break from the act. My babygirl was hungry. I was pissed off…but I had never wanted this woman more than I wanted her then. So, reluctantly and slowly, I crawled from the bed and put on some sweats, knowing that she was going to order me to hop back into bed and give her something to stifle the hunger that couldn’t be extinguished by the food in the kitchen. My eyes brightened as I turned around at her objection.
“No, no, servant. No clothes.” Babygirl slightly shrugged her shoulders as she remained sprawled on her back in our bed, her pussy on display for me to see. I saw my breakfast right there, but I had to feed my wife. I pulled off my sweats and stood nude for her to see, praying that she would let me serve her the way I craved. Still, no change.
This woman of mine is about to have the best scrambled eggs, thick-cut Applewood bacon, Ezekiel Bread Raisin Toast, and fresh strawberry-pineapple medley she’s ever had!!!
I sarcastically laughed as babygirl slapped me on my ass as I made my way out the bedroom to the kitchen. “Alright. Keep playing, girl.” I kept walking, my weighted balls swinging against my legs as I made my way to the kitchen.
I heard her clear her throat from the bedroom. “I’m sorry. What was that?”
I stopped in my tracks. “Nothing, Ma’am.”
“I thought so.”
I love it when she’s forceful—epic sex cumming soon, and she gives just as good and hard as she gets.
This muscular, 230-pound bearded and bald light-brown black man made breakfast for his wife in the buff, save the weight anchoring my balls. I didn’t notice until I turned to the island to assemble and plate babygirl’s food that she was wearing only a dress shirt of mine and was now in the kitchen, watching me from behind. I silently probed her with my gaze, waiting for her orders.
I nodded and complied, feeling her eyes linger on my naked body. I properly plated her breakfast as she sat down at the kitchen table. But, she was at the head of the table.
That’s my spot.
Babygirl knew she had my attention when I stopped and gawked at her with her prepared food in my hands. She flatly stared at me as if this sudden change had always been the norm. I returned to my duties and placed babygirl’s food in front of her. She examined it and appeared satisfied. After a second or two, she gestured for me to stand several feet away. I did as commanded, but held my hands behind my back to allow my wife a view of what I couldn’t wait to give her.
She did a quick double-take at my equipment and turned back to her food.
That’s right. You see it, girl. Come on!
I stood by as she ate. When she wanted more of anything, she remained silent and merely gestured. My quick obedience was accompanied by the prescribed words and an occasional brush against her shoulder with my hand. At one point, I refilled her glass of juice, standing extremely close to her and allowing my cock to graze against her arm. That was the slowest I had ever poured anything. She didn’t back away; she just let my thick cock head rub her soft skin.
And, if she keeps eating those strawberries and pineapple like that, I’m gonna show her what this tongue can really do and how pineapples make me taste.
Babygirl finished her food and waited for me to clear the table. I cleaned up, placing the dishes where they belonged only to turn around and see my sexy ass master-wife sitting on the island with her legs spread apart and my shirt opened from the bottom to just above those perky tits of hers. I was treated to the most beautiful sight—a full-lipped and somewhat furry mound that dripped with my babygirl’s liquid anticipation. She slipped a finger into her silky-wet slit and pulled it out to see that it was covered in her honey.
My lengthy girth was jumping and throbbing uncontrollably.
This girl better stop playing w—OH, MY WORD! She TASTED her cream!
I was already on my way to her when she beckoned for me to approach. I was at her in a flash, standing before her and eagerly awaiting my orders.
“Servants get hungry, don’t they?” she said, slipping that same wet finger back into her drenched cunt. She opened the shirt wider to show me her breasts.
I eagerly nodded, as my eyes followed and lingered on everything she was doing with her hands: a finger of one in her pussy that I desperately wanted to fill and the other slowly tweaking her nipples. I tore my sight from her work and stared into her eyes.
“If you’re hungry, eat,” She commanded.
My eyes remained fixed on hers as I licked my lips and pulled the nearest chair to me. Before sitting, I yanked her closer to me, her ass cheeks barely on the island. And right where I wanted it, her pussy was over the edge with nothing beneath it—the perfect position for me to scoop up all her drops of love with my tongue.
Babygirl reclined back, her hands supporting her on the island as I scooted forward and allowed her to rest her legs on my shoulders. I was finally face-to-face with my breakfast, and I took the time to breathe in her scent, gently rubbing the tip of my nose on her pussy lips. She wiggled, tickled by the sensation that caused her to sigh. Then, very slowly, I parted her lips with my long tongue and licked her walls. Babygirl bucked and gasped at the soft, yet surprising penetration. As I drew my tongue back, I sucked her sex and took my time in releasing my mouth’s grip on her pussy. My tongue still out a bit, I slowly traced her delectable crevice all the way back up to her swollen clit.
Very gently, I wrapped my soft lips around her pink pearl as my tongue playfully fondled it. Steadily and with an alternating suck, I drew babygirl’s clit into my mouth and released it over and over and over again. She shook and shuddered.
I was busy eating my meal, but I heard babygirl calling me all sorts of names from “Daddy” to “Black King” and “Blessed Servant.” Between her gasps, I recognized the cacophony of kitchen utensils hitting the ground after plummeting from the island. My hands got into the game, spreading her folds open while inserting a finger into her wet hole. I was steadily massaging her G-spot as I continued owning her clit with my mouth.
My Master-wife’s pussy clamped around my finger and began convulsing.
I told yo’ ass to stop playing with me! Give me what you owe me. Give me that cum, girl!
Her legs tightened around my head, and I laughed silently because the Servant had quickly become the Master. I did not stop working her to her nut. Her clit was mine. Her pussy was mine. Her cum was mine, and I wanted it all. She wanted a servant, so she got one!
Babygirl grabbed my head with both her hands and lost her breath as she suddenly released a drenching squirt that I lapped up in earnest. I cleaned the table of my Master-wife’s pussy for several more seconds, tonguing her pussy lips and concentrating on her clit. Finally, I stood between her legs, the head of my thick black dick just piercing her pussy and my weighted balls swinging. She was lying on her back, entirely spent, but her eyes locked on mine.
“Is my master-wife satisfied?” I asked, knowing that I went above the call of duty. My babygirl could only muster a nod and sigh. “I remember you saying that you hoped I’d be a bad servant?”
Before she could answer, I looked down at my pulsating shaft that was ready to enter my sweet babygirl. With just a slight push forward, I breached her walls. Her hot, vice-grip-tight cunt resisted my fat rod like it always does. After a few seconds, however, my wide pole popped inside her. I soaked in the feeling of her pussy encasing my dick. Then, I served my Master-wife ever so slowly, enjoying her intense lip-grip on my cock. With slow, long, powerful, and masterful strokes, I gave my babygirl what she really needed. There was no rush—nowhere to be but inside her, pleasing her, loving her. I sped up incrementally. My heavy-weighted balls swayed, delightfully colliding with her ass then swinging back to smack my taint. I’ve worn cock rings during sex before, but there was something about the tug of this weight on my sac that sent me to the edge as I rhythmically plowed my wife.
My nut was imminent, but my balls couldn’t tighten up as usual. Instead, they continued swinging low. I was sure that they must be empty from when babygirl welcomed me home last night, but the surge that traveled from the base of my sac was unmistakable. After three weeks of being pent up, I had plenty more to shoot. I pulled out and stroked my wood until streams of cum erupted from my veiny shaft and cleared the entire island, landing on the kitchen counter behind her. Another rope—her chest. A thick spurt—her stomach. Smaller, yet spirited shots—her mound.
I might have been a bad servant, but I was still in the role. I resolved to clean up the kitchen later. I collected my worn-out babygirl and carried her back to the bedroom, holding her in my arms as she drifted off to sleep. But, per her usual method of comfort, her hand wound up caressing my steeled balls as she lost consciousness.
Only one thought crossed my mind as I fell into a nap right behind her…
It has never felt so good to be used! FOREVER a willing and weighting servant of my babygirl.