Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
This story contains strong interracial and cuckolding themes
Chapter One
Tommy
This is the story of my marriage from my perspective. My wife, Mrs Elizabeth Browning (yes, I know. Irony, huh?), will tell her side of the story. I suspect hers will be far more entertaining from a reader’s point of view, yet there cannot be light without shade.
I am 31, and my wife of six happy years is 28. I work in the insurance industry for a high-street broker in an affluent area of London. Our house was an inheritance from my grandmother. She was estranged from her daughter–my mother–and did it to spite her. My mother, Louise, was delighted on my behalf. She dotes on me, and I adore her.
Alongside my mother in importance is Elizabeth. We met at Uni, got engaged, and our lives are content and straightforward. In retrospect, it was probably dull, but we enjoyed the ‘dullness’. We didn’t know any better. Everything about me screams average. Average height, average build, brown eyes, brown hair. I don’t rock the boat. I don’t stand out. Elizabeth is more outgoing. She is blonde, fair-skinned and slender–a classic English rose. We suited each other. Our sex life was equally conventional. If you had to colour us as a couple, it would be beige. Sure, we had our wild moments–who doesn’t? Sex on a beach on holiday. The sand got everywhere. The party where Elizabeth got chatted up by a handsome older dude, ‘all teeth and cock’ as my mother would say. My wife giggled, enjoying the attention, the tease. I got a rush out of it, too, and we had for us what would be classed as wild sex afterwards, using the incident to indulge a little bit. I was the handsome stranger, and she was being talked into ‘naughty sex’. She even used a rude word or two. Shocking stuff!
Elizabeth is a secondary school teacher. She loves her job and the kids, and we were planning our first steps into parenthood until fate intervened in the shape of Dr Phillip Robinson, the new Principal at Elizabeth’s school–an impressive man with first-rate credentials and presence. Eyes would gravitate to him. He was tall and broad, 6’5″ striking and handsome, with a rich bluish/black skin tone.
My wife gushed her excitement and praise after the staff met Dr Robinson over drinks prior to his official start date.
“We are so lucky to have him working in the public sector! He is constantly being sought after by prestigious private schools, but they don’t interest him. Feels the people there aren’t real. I totally get that. Imagine him at our little school!” Her eyes sparkled.
“It isn’t that little, and we are in an affluent borough with a good catchment area.” I was a little irritated. The guy was a Head Teacher, not Nelson fucking Mandela.
“I guess. Anyway. We are in good hands under his leadership. Big hands, too! I thought I was going to get lost in them!”
“Want to get takeout?”
“What? Sure. Pizza?”
I nodded–anything to change the subject.
Little else was said after that. After a few days of Dr Robinson this and Dr Robinson that, the topic of his royal fucking highness gradually receded. Which was natural after the initial enthusiasm. At least, that was my blithe assumption.
Lesson one. Never fucking assume. A serpent had entered our Eden.
****
Life meandered on. Nothing changed. We got up, went to work, came home, ate, and occasionally made love. It wasn’t a rut exactly, but it was close. It wasn’t until a month later that I noticed changes in Elizabeth. She wasn’t one to fuss over her appearance or clothes. The school environment didn’t leave much room for experimentation, and Elizabeth was a feminist by nature and education, yet her wardrobe was subtly changing. Her work skirts were a little shorter, her heels a little higher, and she started wearing her hair in a ponytail. A pronounced one at that. It arched up and then down. I liked it.
“Why the change?” I asked one morning.
“Oh, no reason. Just fancied a different look.” She smiled at me with that open fresh face of hers, her eyes sparkled.
“You’re in a good mood,” I smiled.
“Very!” she laughed and poured herself more tea.
I looked at her closely. Her makeup seemed bolder–the lip gloss was redder, and the eyelashes thicker. I hesitated, then shrugged and returned to the emails on my phone, planning my workday.
The buzz of her phone interrupted my flow. She mouthed an apology. “Work messages.”
I shrugged again. Elizabeth had been tasked with setting up a working group and took the project seriously. Her excitement at being chosen had been infectious, and I was delighted for her. It did mean more out-of-hours work demands, but that was no different to me. I glanced at my watch–time to move. I headed upstairs to get my suit jacket and found the bedroom empty. A giggle came from the en-suite, and then what sounded suspiciously like a soft moan. What the fuck? I was tempted to listen in but knocked over the bedside lamp with my jacket, causing me to beat a hasty retreat.
Elizabeth Taksim travesti came down a few minutes later. Neither of us said anything. We caught separate tubes, and I watched my wife disappear to her platform.
Chapter Two
Elizabeth
I know Tommy has filled you in with the basic details, so I won’t bore you. My story starts with Dr Robinson and my first introduction to him. Drinks in the staff room after school, and I hurried along, not wishing to be late.
Grace pushed a plastic cup of cheap plonk in my hand. “Just in time. He’s over there! Damn, he is gorgeous!”
“He is?”
“God, yes! Absolute hunk! I may get divorced!” Grace Harker was in her early forties and married to Ken. We had socialised a few times and enjoyed their company.
My eyes tracked to where a giant of a man stood imposingly tall with my colleagues orbiting around him. He caught me looking and smiled. It was an engaging, open smile, and I immediately warmed to him. After a few minutes, he wandered over, scattering staff in his wake.
“Mrs Browning, I assume?” His voice was a deep bass rumble. It resonated through me. I nodded, my throat suddenly dry.
I held out my hand. He took it, bowed and brushed his lips over it. “My pleasure. May I call you Elizabeth?”
“Of–of course,” I stuttered. I felt the moisture on the back of my hand. I fought the urge to lick it. Pull yourself together!
“Grace said you would be along soon. I have reviewed your record, and I am impressed. You are a tremendous asset to this school.”
I simpered and blushed. “Thank you, that is very kind.” He let go of my hand.
“We must talk further, Elizabeth. I am anxious to get the staff’s input on where we can improve.”
“I look forward to it, sir, Dr Robinson,” I babbled.
“Good. Now, if you will excuse me, ladies.”
Grace and I nodded until our necks were sore.
“Well?” Grace nudged me.
“Well, what?” I stared at his broad, retreating back.
Grace laughed, noting my stare. “Oh, nothing, nothing at all.”
I floated home. Never had a man made such a first impression. I even succumbed to licking the back of my hand in the staff restroom, hoping to taste him. It all came out of me in a burst when I got home. Tommy gave you the abridged version. I positively enthused about Dr Robinson. It was if he was a living God!
I was impatient for the weekend to be over and get back to school on the Monday. I was like a teenager on a first date as I agonised over what to wear, discarding blouses, tops and skirts and ending with my first choice. To be honest, there wasn’t a great deal of choice in my wardrobe.
Classes diverted my thoughts from our new Principal, yet he tickled away at the back of my mind. I briefly saw him during the morning break. He was talking to Grace and Patti, then moved off. Grace gushed about him later at lunch, and I affected disinterest. My heart thudding in my ribcage gave the lie to that disinterest.
To my crushing disappointment, I didn’t get to talk to him. He was perpetually surrounded by others eager to make themselves known. The majority of the staff were female, and I entertained dark thoughts about my not-so-fair sex.
I hung around after school, even walking by his office, hoping for a call, a chance to meet, and then I saw him driving away. I stopped, embarrassed by my behaviour. I was a married woman with a loving husband, even hoping to start a family, and here I was moping around like a silly, well, a silly tart!
I went home and tried to banish Dr Robinson from my mind.
****
Two weeks passed, and no real contact with Dr Robinson. A brief word between classes, and that was it. Other staff were enjoying one-on-one time. Everyone except me! It infuriated me to the point where I pretended that I hated him. Looking back, I recall initiating sex with Tommy as if to prove a point to Dr Robinson! I know, insane, right?
On the Tuesday of his third week, he stopped me in the corridor between classes. “Elizabeth, if I could have a word with you in my office after school finishes? It shouldn’t take long if you need to let your husband know.”
“Of course, sir. I would be happy to!” I nearly combusted with joy and spent the whole day wondering why time itself had slowed.
Finally, the bell went, and I suppressed the urge to run to his office. Cool and calm, Elizabeth. I walked slowly, chatting with a staff member and two younger pupils keen to show me their drawings.
His secretary, a black woman in her mid-thirties, smiled as I approached. She had joined with Dr Robinson. “You can go through, Mrs Browning.”
“Thank you, Cathy.” I took a deep breath, my tummy churning, knocked and walked through.
“Elizabeth, thank you for stopping by. Grace is already here.”
I ground my teeth as a flare of disappointed rage coursed through me. “Grace,” I muttered, taking a seat.
“Grace just dropped off her shift proposals. Thank you, Grace.”
My heart Taksim travestileri leapt. It was a clear command to leave. Go, Grace, and hurry!
Grace reluctantly rose and dragged herself to the door. I was not the only female staff member entranced by Dr Robinson.
“Now, Elizabeth. I intentionally left you to last as it is clear you have the most potential, and I would value your input. I have decided to set up a working group to evaluate our working practices and collate the staff proposals that I invited. I would like you to head that working group.”
I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. “Why, thank you, sir. I would be honoured!”
He chuckled a warm, deep chuckle that both seduced and stimulated. “I have asked you to address me as Dr Robinson, yet you insist on addressing me as sir.”
Alarmed, I leaned forward. “I am so sorry! I will–“
He held up a hand. “But to hear you address me as Sir pleases me, so pray continue doing so, Elizabeth.”
And that was when I knew I was in deep trouble. To hear him say I pleased him triggered what could only be described as a small climax, ‘la petite mort’–a jolt of pure pleasure. I shivered. This was madness! He didn’t even touch me! Embarrassed, I prayed he hadn’t noticed. “Thank you, Sir,” I said. No idea why. I just wanted to say it.
He smiled sympathetically. “That is okay, Elizabeth. Shall we map out the terms of reference for your working group?”
I remained silent as I collected what was left of my wits. I finally nodded. He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Sir,” I said.
“Good, girl, Elizabeth. Good girl.”
This time, I didn’t orgasm, but it was touch and go.
Chapter Three
Elizabeth
For the rest of the week, I was in a daze. Conflicting emotions churned up my insides and left me more confused than ever. Tommy, my marriage, this inexplicable man who could make me orgasm through words alone! I realise now that I had worked myself into such a state that my reaction wasn’t that unusual. Dr Robinson had unwittingly withheld himself from me. A powerful mix of longing, desire and despair had been set to slow cook. That I pleased him came as an intense relief and manifested itself sexually. This was all new to me. I was blind to my emotional state because it was alien territory. I had never experienced anything like this with a man.
I agonised over what to do next while freshening up my wardrobe–nothing too crazy, just tweaking some outfits and counting down the days to our next meeting. I intended to devote myself to this project and win Dr. Robinson’s approval. The thought of disappointing him kept me awake at night.
It wasn’t the only thing keeping me awake. Now that the sexual genie was out of the bottle, I was consumed with sexual fantasies involving Dr Robinson and masturbating like crazy. I rarely masturbated. Sex was never a big issue for me. I enjoyed it, sure, but then I enjoyed sweet desserts, and I wasn’t tucking into cake several times a day! I was practically living in our en-suite bathroom and the staff restroom.
Grace grew cool toward me. She was ambitious and resented Dr Robinson favouring me as she saw it. Equally, I didn’t include her in the working group. Out of all the staff, we were the most attracted to Dr Robinson, and subconsciously, we both knew this.
Eventually, I included her. Dr Robinson suggested her inclusion at one of our meetings, and I naturally deferred to him. Our meetings were always very polite and formal. Staffing levels, tweaking the terms of reference, scheduling. I hung on his every word like a lovesick teen. I scanned his messages to me as if trying to divine hidden meanings. Honest to God, I even masturbated to them!
I worked night and day on the project. Tommy listened patiently as I tested ideas on him. Eventually, it came time for my presentation in his office, and I arrived on time, armed with files and papers. Cathy told me to wait, and I stood outside his door, willing it to open.
“He won’t be long, Mrs Browning.”
I nodded my thanks and, in my distracted state, failed to notice the amusement and hint of contempt in her voice.
The minutes dragged by. I wondered whether to sit down, but I felt it would be a defeat if I did. I began to sweat, so help me, God, I thought I would start dripping girl juice down my leg.
“Not long, now, I’m sure, Mrs Browning.”
A voice boomed out to enter. I scrabbled for the door handle, and in my flustered state, I dropped my files on the floor.
“Fuck it!” I yelled, then stopped, mortified. I never swore, and certainly not loudly.
Cathy rose and opened his office door as I bent and picked up my files. “Mrs Browning,” she announced.
“I can see.” Dr Robinson’s immaculate hand-crafted Italian shoes appeared before me.
“Sorry, I dropped my files.” I almost began to cry.
“I noticed.” He made no attempt to pick them up for me and waited patiently.
Finally, I got the files together. I looked up at his towering Travesti taksim frame and froze. “Sir?” I mewed pitifully.
He stood aside, and driven entirely by emotion and sexual impulse, I crawled past him, clutching the files with one hand to my chest.
“Please make sure we are not disturbed, Cathy.”
“Yes, Dr Robinson.”
I crawled to a halt before his desk as the door snickered shut. I had utterly demeaned and disgraced myself before him, and he had barely said a word. It was as if something inside me had broken.
“Sir?” I looked up at him, confused and worried at his reaction to my bizarre and unprofessional behaviour.
“There is nothing to be alarmed at, Elizabeth. I suspect you are finding your true self and your natural position with me. You are on a voyage of self-discovery, and I suspect it will be a rewarding one.”
I nodded my head eagerly, gratified at his kindness. He took his seat behind his desk.
“Good girl. Now, what is the next step?”
I was stumped, yet words leapt into my mouth, surprising me. “Do I have your permission to sit, Sir?”
“No.”
I flinched and lowered myself further, mortified at my presumptuous demand.
“You will sit when I permit you. Do you understand, Lizzie?”
I hated that name but nodded. I was pleased he hadn’t taken offence at my rudeness.
“Do you have all the files and proposals ready for me?”
“Yes, Sir, I have worked long and hard–“
He held up his hand. His gaze caused me to shrivel inside.
“That goes without saying, Lizzie. I would not have chosen you if I thought otherwise.”
“Thank you, Sir. Thank you so much.”
“Good. Now you may sit. You, of course, have no objection to me addressing you as Lizzie.”
“I would be honoured, Sir.” I demurely rose and sat in the chair in front of his desk
He waved his hand as if my honour was of no interest. “Make your presentation.”
I launched into my rehearsed pitch, keeping it succinct but informative. He listened intently, nodding and occasionally asking me to repeat some points. Finally, I finished and waited for his verdict. Nothing before, not even exam results, had caused me this level of stress. Finally, he said, “Excellent, Lizzie, well done. A few points need some work, but we will get there. I am very encouraged.”
The brief flare of joy at his words evaporated. “I’m sorry, Sir, what points–“
He held his hand up. “Be quiet, Lizzie. Please refrain from babbling. Can you do that?”
I clamped my mouth shut and nodded.
“Good girl. Your desire to be obedient and attentive is most welcome.”
I beamed and waited for permission.
“Speak.”
“Thank you, Sir. I will do my utmost to please you.”
“Yes, Lizzie,” his smile broad. “You certainly will. We will meet again. It will be at the same time on Thursday in my office. We may be longer, so inform your husband.”
I didn’t ask how long. It was not my place to ask questions.
“Yes, Sir.” I rose and headed for the door.
“Lizzie.” His voice had the sting of command.
I turned and hugged the files to my chest.
“How do we enter and leave my office?” He had the demeanour of a disappointed parent dealing with a dim child.
I stood there confused and uncertain. Then it dawned on me. He wished me to leave as I entered. Disbelief was replaced by compulsion. As if in a trance, I slowly got to my knees and crawled to the door.
“Stay!”
I stayed.
“Cathy!”
The door opened.
“Dr Robinson?” Cathy queried, ignoring me.
“Lizzie is just leaving.”
“I understand.” She stood to one side, and I crawled into her outer office. “Wait there, Lizzie.” She walked over and opened the outer office door. Hurriedly, I crawled out onto the cold linoleum of the corridor. When I heard the door shut, I got to my feet and ran to the staff restroom. Thankfully, it was empty. I dropped the files onto the wash unit and dived into the stalls, my hand down my sodden panties. I uttered a heartfelt sigh of relief and then furiously fingered myself to an intense orgasm. Afterwards, I sat slumped on the pan, emotionally drained and fraught with anxiety. A few minutes later, I began to cry.
****
Tommy was engrossed in his own work project that evening, allowing me to process what had happened. I knew I was on the verge of stepping across a line from which there would be no return. Yet, I felt compelled to cross that line, no matter the cost. Tommy had faded into the background. Sir dominated my thoughts and my desires.
I opened a bottle of wine. Tommy looked up from his laptop and smiled. “Rough day?”
“Yes. Intense.” I gave a wan smile in return. “Want some?” I brandished the bottle.
“Sure.”
I poured a fresh glass. “I have another meeting scheduled after school on Thursday. Could drag on a while.”
“Okay.” He sipped the wine and then raised the glass. “To Elizabeth, destined for great things in the world of education!”
I faked a laugh and raised my glass. Yeah, to Lizzie!
Chapter Four
Elizabeth
So, here I am. It’s Thursday, and I am kneeling outside Sir’s door.
“You will wait as long as it takes, Lizzie.” Cathy’s now blatant contempt and amusement added to my humiliation. I didn’t care. I welcomed it.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32