Is She or Isn’t She? Part Twenty One

Copyright Deni Wom 2004

“Uno Mas, god damn it!” Bobbi raised his glass toward the cocktail waitress.

“Uno momento! God Damn it!” the waitress yelled back.

Bobbi sat there, his cock hard, aching, making him miserable, unable to dismiss the images that were swirling in his head. The visions of that huge black cock fucking into his wife, fucking over and over a long, long time because it was so big, and his wife was so small. The images of it in his own mouth as he sucked, not really willing to admit he liked it, but then also not willing to admit that he didn’t want to let it go.

And then, at the end of each glass of beer, while he watched the foam of the beer run down the sides of the glass, bobbi relived the sensation of eating the huge black cock’s cum from within his wife’s hugely stretched-out cunt. Between glasses of beer, he was tortured by the sensation of his own little cock being unable to feel her pussy walls because they were so vastly stretched out now, not at all the tiny tightness he could remember when he had made love to her on their honeymoon.

The waitress brought another glass of beer, setting it in front of him. “So what is YOUR story of woe young man?” Bobbi had noticed that this waitress-bitch was a gossip, moving from table to table collecting choice tidbits of inform and then spreading them about to the other bar patrons.

But bobbi could not stop his drunken, vengeful mouth from telling her everything. All the while he was talking to the bitch about his problems, he was thinking ‘This is stupid, why am I telling her this?’ But it just poured out. Then, to his horror, he heard himself tell her about sucking the big black cock, and how hard his penis was sitting there, and how badly his cock ached. He just needed to tell someone, anyone, about his pain.

The waitress’s eyes got bigger and bigger as she listened delightedly. Finally unable to contain her self, she asked “Is your wife’s name Staci?”

Bobbi knew now, for certain, that he had just passed that point where he was going to desperately regret drinking tonight. But, true to his inebriated form, bobbi was just too far gone to listen to his inner voice of preservation. “Yeah, god damn it, what’s that to you, bitch?”

The waitress shrieked in peals of high pitched delighted laughter. She leaned back, and in her smoke deepened voice delightedly shouted, “Hey ever body! Listen up! This is bobbi, Staci’s his wife! You know! ……….. Wendell’s new little white whore that he is sharing with everybody over at the benefit at the Pussy Cat Bar tonight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

There was not a sound in the bar as every single eye turned to stare at him. The hair on the back of bobbi’s neck stood up, his asshole puckered tightly closed, and his head ducked as far into his shoulders as it could go.

Finally, a drunk elderly regular sitting at the bar said, “Buy shat man a round, he desherves it. Heyyyyy shon, take it for the compliment it ish, cause for Wendell ta be fuckin her, she gots to be a real beauty!” The bar erupted in more gales of laughter as the drunk turned back to the bartender and told him to put bobbi’s beer on his tab.

Bobbi’s face was crimson in shame. Tears burned his eyes. He stumbled from his stool, then ran for the door, stubbing his toe as he went out. In his inebriated condition, he stumbled badly, then fell, tearing the knees on his trouser and bloodying his elbows and knees. He lay there on the sidewalk for several minutes, breathing hard, people stepping around him in order to pass. The only image in his mind was of a huge black thick cock fucking in and out of his wife’s stretched cunt, with Staci’s moans of orgasm going on and on and on. His cock ached horribly in its hardness, twisted within his trousers. Bobbi wished his little white cock would just fall off and stop tormenting him.

Finally, bobbi rose from his twisted miserable heap. He staggered off toward home wondering if Staci and Wendell were really gone, were in that bar the bitch had named, . . . . . what was it?

As he walked, his penis finally softened.

He felt totally lost. Was he indeed losing his wife to Wendell, or was he going to lose her to cancer. Or was he going to loose her to both? Bobbi finally just muttered, “I guess it makes no difference, I am going to loose my wife one way or the other.” He felt without hope, without friends . . . . . . without Staci. When his need to urinate arose, he simply let it come, not even bothering to pull his worthless flesh from within his trousers.

As bobbi wove his way home, he began to think about what it would be like without Staci around. At first he could not even fathom what that would be like. No Staci. No wife . . . . . Cook his own food . . . . . . . Clean his own house . . . . . try to date again . . . . . . spend his own money . . . . . . . do whatever he wanted to whenever he wanted to. . . . . . . .

No Staci.

Bobbi began to cry, sobbing as he thought about not ever being able to hold his wife again. Even as drunk as he was, he realized that he had not held her, or made love to her for a very long time. He tried to remember how long it had been since they made love. God, so much porn to look at . . . . . so little time. So many black-men-fucking-white-sluts sites and groups and chat rooms. And videos to watch.

He thought about the chat site where he pretended to be a black man with a huge cock and how the women had fawned over him, begged him to contact them, wanted him to come to their house and fuck them in front of their white husband. In spite of his wet crotch, his horror at losing his wife, his torn clothes, his scratched knees and elbows, that his wife had started fucking around on him, he grinned as he thought about how he had pretended to fuck a white woman as her husband watched his words appear on their computer screen. She had told bobbi that her husband was actually licking her freshly cyber fucked pussy that he had just filled with his black cyber cum.

Bobbi stopped walking as he remembered that he had just done exactly that a few hours ago. His aching agony of an erection returned full force as he thought about how Wendell’s black cum had tasted as he lapped it from within his wife’s hugely stretched-out pussy. Bobbi’s mouth formed an ‘O’ as he thought about Wendell’s cock in his mouth. His tongue began to work against the top of his mouth and he salivated as he remembered the taste of his wife’s pussy mixed with Wendell’s cum. Bobbi rubbed his crotch, wishing he had just relaxed and let Staci control his actions, and just enjoyed the chance to experience such a magnificent body as Wendell’s.

Bobbi turned and walked toward home. Somewhere between the bar and home, Bobbi grew up.