SHANGOReturns!

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I’ve got your bitch, white boi!  Yeah, she’s your wife, but she ain’t nothing of that when she’s with me.  When she’s with me, she’s my bitch. She’s my fuck-toy.  Ain’t nothing else matters to me none. Don‘t get mad, white boi.  Your ass knew what the game was before you bothered to play.  You knew that once you gave your woman to me, that she wasn’t going to go back being the typical housewife you always thought her to be.  Nothing of the sort is happening here, white boi.  On here, my dick is all the bitch knows.  Your bitch knows well enough who owns her, and guess what, it ain’t you!  When she’s with me, she don’t ever make out like she’s your wife.  Sure, she still wears her wedding ring, but that don’t mean shit to me.  Your bitch knows that when she’s  her Black Master, her foremost duty is to serve and please the fuck out of me.   Don‘t matter what hour of the day, or whether you’d be bothered about when next ...

This is a letter that was written to me months ago from a husband residing in New York.  I thought I should share it with you all . * * * * If you ever have time and would be so kind, I was wondering something that maybe you could answer for me.  Do you believe being a cuckold can be a natural-born thing?  The reason I ask is because I was older, way past my prime, when I first found myself desiring many things pertaining to the cuckold lifestyle.  This was back in the early to mid-eighties.   There was no internet back then, or books or conventions that discussed or highlighted anything about this.  Back then I felt strange and alone with my desires.  I wanted to have a girlfriend (or wife) who would control me and willingly sleep with other men, and hopefully let or make me watch.  I wished for a woman to make a submissive out of me, to humiliate me in front of other men, and entice me to taste cum out of her pussy or ass.  I was all i...

  What's a husband to do when he returns home from work and finds a superior man in bed with his wife?  Does he cry for help, or does he sit there and take it? *           *           *           * The sky rumbled with the approach of rain as I drove towards my home in Convent Gardens. It was an hour past midday and you’d think there won’t be much traffic along the way, but wrong. The highway was blocked on account of a freak accident. It was all on the news when I tuned in my radio. The accident just seemed to add to my frustration. I turned the knob to a Classic Rock station and listened to Christine McVie of  Fleetwood Mac  croon to me about how I made loving fun. Yeah right, like that was supposed to make me feel happy. The rain began to splatter by the time I got home which was a few minutes past three. Sheryl’s car was in the driveway when I arrived so I had no choice but ...

I have been standing out in the corridor by myself for nearly a half-hour. Our Golden Retriever, Rex, sat beside my feet for company. He had fretted and gripped against my pants leg as I have been since Doris led her lover Marcus into our bedroom. Sometimes I rest my ear against the door to listen in; Doris had left the key in its place so I could not peep inside. I heard mild grunts and squeaks and bumps, sounding like the bed was moving or banging against the wall. My breath formed most on the door. My hand grabbed at my crotch. Twice I had scurried away to a nearby toilet to jerk-off. My head was filled with images of what they were doing in the bedroom. Marcus was giving Doris the fuck of her life. I have been fortunate to watch them fuck the first time in the living room a week ago. Doris had warned him to sit and remain quiet, to which he did. He had bottled up his urges while he watched Marcus make mincemeat of his wife. Doris had screamed. She had whimpere...

The basketball game had concluded when Gerald switch the channel to one of Natural Geography.   There were Pay-Per-View channels available, but none was of NSFW variety, which was a shame.   He felt the pressing urge to jerk off to something.   He could hear the sex coming from the bedroom.   He thought he caught wind of Eloise, but it was hard to tell whom Jerome was attending to at the moment.   Gerald was sitting there and sweating, counting off the seconds in his wristwatch.   Five minutes.   That was one rule Jerome gave him when it came time to fucking Eloise.   He should stay outside the bedroom for five minutes before venturing inside.   That gave Jerome and Eloise enough time to be comfortable.   Gerald was submissive enough to keep to that rule, though this time around he was desperately itching for the minute to tick faster.   His daughter Greta was in there with her husband Jerome, and her mother.   What ...