Róisín - Ch. 3

 Chapter Three - Róisín's Hobby

After Róisín had come clean (an unfortunate phrase – or perhaps not) about her premarital ‘hobby’, I had wanted to know more. I was not so stupid as to pester her with daily recollections of her times with all of those Masters, but I did ask questions. At first they were general enquiries about her feelings and how it all started at the fashion house, and each time she would give me honest answers. And each time, she would attend to my ‘little stiffy'.

My more notable request for information was, just how she felt when she first started. Her reply opened my eyes to just how powerful the Natural Order can be. “Michael,” she had replied – her soft Irish brogue trembling slightly at the sustained interest in her previous love-life, “you’re a bloke, so I shall keep it simple for you, okay.”

I nodded and waited to be educated.

“I had been with white boys before that wonderful first night. In fact I had just finished with a really handsome rugby player from the Wasps and was feeling sad, when John asked me if I wanted to help out Megan in the apartment downstairs.”

“Did you know that all the girls had Black Lovers?”

“I did! Yes!” she confirmed. “And I knew just what the Natural Order was about too. Including the cuckolding culture .”

“Were you ever tempted before that?”

She bristled at this question. “I'm a good Catholic girl Michael. We don't fucking cheat.”

“Sorry!” I managed to stutter in the face of such a cutting response.

“But yes,” she continued, “of course I was tempted. But it wasn't until Jason and I parted company that I even thought about it.”

“So you took up the invitation to go down to the apartment,” I said, prompting her to continue. “How did that go?”

“I was nervous of course. But Megan and Paul had arranged for one of the more gentle Masters to be my man for the night.” She stopped to look at my reaction.

“Go on!”

“I only had a loose dress and a pair of panties on, so it took Paul just three seconds to undress and then present me to Noni. That was his name by the way – Noni. We are still friends and have revisited that lovely night a few times since.....”

I was intrigued. “Was this a ceremony of some sort?”

“An introduction more like,” she replied, “And don't interrupt!”

Chastened, I sat still as Róisín recounted her first night with a Black Master.

“As white boys go, Jason wasn't bad between the sheets but Noni, who is Amber's Master by the way, was in a different league altogether. He was stronger, bigger, harder, while at the same time far more sexier than my ex Boyfriend.”

I had met Amber. She was one of an agency’s ‘outsize' models that the house used for their ‘normal’ range of clothing. We had attended her and Noni's maternity party for their second child, and I still have the photograph taken by her husband, Jeremy, on my phone.

... taken by her husband ...

But I had another question for my lovely red-haired Wife. “Bigger? In what way?”

She knew what my question was really about, and with a delicate blush to her cheeks the answer came quickly. “If Jason's was five inches, then Noni’s was twice that.”

My mouth opened in silent amazement. “What did you say? Are you telling me he had a ten inch penis.”

“That's right. And by the way, white boys and cuckolds have a penis. Black Masters have a cock, a manhood, or a member.”

I had been thinking that I would have been happy to have had a ‘five incher' myself, but this sudden distinction between ‘them and us' had me thinking that the beliefs and standards of the Natural Order had given rise to  its own language and definitions. ‘Of course!’ I thought, ‘a way of living’ must bring its own way of defining precedence or hierarchy. And that is why these men are called Master.’ 

“And Noni knew just how to use his ten inch pole,” she said, continuing with her answer to my question. “It was a revelation to me how he could bring me to such intense orgasms with such ease. From the moment I spread my legs wide for him and feel him enter me I was hooked on Black Loving. I have told you just how big and strong they are, but their stamina and recovery are equally impressive. Jason had been a once, or maybe twice a night Lover, but Noni was a machine.”

At these words, my imagination soared. In my mind's eye I could see Róisín lying on her back with her pinkish-white thighs open and her knees pulled back to accommodate his member deep into her body. 

... to accommodate his member ...

Or ankles crossed and resting on the broad muscular dark brown back of one of her many Lovers as her body trembled with orgasm after orgasm. I could visualize her eyes closed in sensual delight as the Black Master thrust his dark cock deep into her strong but pliant young body. But she had more to say.

“That night I learned what it is to serve. Not just me, but Paul too. I was so happy to lay there and feel the wondrous pleasures and give them to Noni in return, but it was Megan's hubby who demonstrated what is meant by serving. No sooner had Noni filled me with his seed and rolled off me, then Paul was between my legs licking my pussy and collecting the warm juices that had been deposited within me. It was an astonishing thing for another man to do, or so I thought. But there was something even more amazing to witness once he had cleaned and soothed  my labia and vaginal entrance ..”

“And what was that?”

“I said don't interrupt,” was her quick response. “While he had been licking me, Paul had been stroking Noni's big member. So once I was clean, he turned his lips and tongue onto that same big roll of flesh that had previously been hard, and inside me. He fellated him back to full strength and size, and even in my inexperience of such matters, I could tell that this diminutive little cuckold in panties, stockings, and penis cage, was an expert.”

“Like Bernard; Jaqueline's hubby?”

“Like all cuckold hubbies who’s Wife is owned by a Black Master,” Róisín confirmed. 

“And then in the shower the next morning, Noni would have me again ..........,” she stopped talking and looked at me. 

... Noni would have me again ...

I knew why she had stopped. She was looking at my trousers and raised an eyebrow. She smiled and asked, “Is this a little too much information for you Michael?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you getting turned on by the stories of Megan and I in the apartment,” she said, pointing at the bulge.

I felt hot with embarrassment and stuttered my reply. “No, ..... of course not. Well maybe! Yes! .... No! ...... Possibly. I dunno!”

Róisín was on her knees in front of me before I had finished my sentence. Her deft long fingers expertly unzipped me and went searching for my little ‘stiffy’.

“Thought so!” she exclaimed gleefully as the little pink head of my penis poked through my underpants. “Let me help you with this Dear.”

He hot breath followed by her warm and wet tongue on my little rod was an exquisite sensation. Her experience of such pleasures was extensive, as I had just discovered, so it was less than two minutes before my little nuts tightened and I spurted by semen into her pretty mouth. 

She swallowed, smiled, and stood up. I had rearranged myself, zipped my ‘little chap' out of sight before she said, “So that’s how it is. Is it?”

It was a rhetorical question, but I answered anyway. “I'm only flesh and blood Róisín.” So with that response, my lovely Wife knew that she could exercise a degree of control over my sexuality. It was a benign and affectionate control, but that night would be the very beginning of the journey we were to take months later.

That first time she had recounted in detail the what, how, and why of her erotic activities, my stiff little penis bore witness to my arousal. And without any doubt, every subsequent time she had treated me to her recollections of her loving relationships I had felt a very keen emotional excitement at the pictures in my mind of her with those Black Masters. 

One Saturday night, while in a restaurant, I had asked her how ‘big' her Master Lovers had been. She had understood the my question immediately and her response to my crass and naive question had me swallowing my Pasta Carbonara in large gulps.

“Do you really want to know?” she had asked, smiling mischievously.

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Ruben's is nearly a foot long, and Deven’s lovely black rod is a little shorter but  nearly as thick as your wrist,” she continued. “But the most exciting was Jonah's hard  member.”

My hands shook in repressed emotion. “How so?”

“Jonah enjoyed lifting me up in his arms, impale me on his lovely cock and then pump that lovely hard cock into me as I hung there totally at his mercy.”

Jonah enjoyed lifting me up ...

“Impale you? That's extreme!” I exclaimed, and then became concerned. “Did he hurt you? Did you scream?”

Róisín looked wistful at the memory, but her eyes were soft when she answered. “Scream? Oh fuck yes! Moan? You bet! Especially when he stopped hammering me and slowly lower me down his rod. And then he would parade me around the room with the weight of my whole body supported only by the hardness of his manhood. Extreme? Yes! But wonderful and incredible fun. Arousing too.”

After telling me this, it took just three seconds to spurt my jism into my Wife's willing open mouth.

With each of our talks about her enjoyment in the apartment, it began to dawn on me that every time she gave me a little more of the history, the more she looked back on her time serving Black Masters as treasured memories. So it was just a week later that I asked her my last question; the enquiry that was to change our lives eventually.

We were sat together at home on a Saturday night, and I had much of what she had told me was very much on my mind. Róisín sensed this mood in me and, instead of chatting as usual, she remained quiet – waiting.

“Do you regret anything about your times in the apartment?”

Her mouth formed into a thoughtful pout, before answering, “I regret nothing Michael. I've told you everything, so now you know what your Wife has been. A slut!”

“And I told you that you are not a slut,” I snapped back. “But is there anything that you would have wanted to be different?”

“Yes,” she replied quickly, “I would have liked to have been ‘owned’.

Over this period I had begun to realise that all of the Black Men within that fashion house had seen my Wife naked, and had used her nubile body for enjoyment (as she had theirs). This had brought about a profound change in my sense of personal values. I was now very proud that my beautiful Wife had provided sexual services to those real men who had lesser men's Wives as their Mistresses. Róisín, and her friends had shown me the beauty and justified rightfulness of the Natural Order. But I had one final question.

“Then why did you stop, if you liked it so much?”

“I met someone else.”

“What? Who?”

She stood up, and then reached out to gently stroke the side of my face. “He came to check my accounts and then had the cheek to ogle my arse as I left the room. I liked him immediately.”

“Oh you mean me.”

“The very same,” she replied, and then held out her hand for me to stand up and join her in the bedroom.

It was the combination of all of those little conversations I had in mind as I gazed at the photograph of her and Samuel Jerome. It was clear to me that Róisín was happy to be in the Black Master’s private space because that would be a very natural thing for her to do; equally natural would be the instinctive acceptance of the big Black hand resting gently, but intimately, on her pretty rounded bottom. I recognized the Natural Order when it was presented to me, but I did not sleep very much that night.

I was at my desk, at work, on the following Monday when Sheila, our Office Manager told me that she had intercepted an outside call for me. “It's a Mr Samuel Jerome for you Michael,” she said, and then passed the call over to my desk phone. A green light illuminated and I lifted the receiver.

“Mr Jeffries?” The voice was low and strong with a tone that resonated power. It matched the big man in the picture.

“The same! How can I help you Mr Jerome?”

“Samuel - please. Can I call you Michael?”

“If you wish. Is there something you need Samuel?”

“Need?” He responded almost immediately, momentarily sounding unsure. “Well nothing desperate Michael, but I would like to talk something over with you. Perhaps we could meet for lunch. I'm at the Savoy. The view from the River Restaurant is very nice.”

I knew it, and he was right, it does have a nice view of the Thames, but I was in a contrary mood, so I said, “I'm more of a ‘Coal Hole pub' man myself Samuel, but I can posh-up with the best of them.”

“One o'clock it is then. I'll send a taxi for you.” 

“No need. I'm just round the corner,” I said, before ending the call.

The cream leather seats and shiny mirrors of the restaurant did nothing to assuage the nagging feeling of unease as I crossed the carpet to join the big smiling American Black Man. He stood, looked down at me, and held out his hand, and my fingers crushed together as he shook my own. 

We dined quietly on a superb plate of fresh fish, herbs, and  vegetables, washed down with a cold Chablis. We spoke little except for the weather and the financial state of the fashion house and the fashion industry of which I knew very little other than that Róisín had told me.

“Your Wife has an excellent control of the Commercial activities of the house Michael. I was very impressed with her presentation.”

“Róisín is very accomplished,” I replied offhandedly, while realising ‘So this is why I am sitting here with a total stranger eating expensive seafood.’

“And speaking of Róisín, do you mind if I speak more personally about her.”

I was immediately anxious, so avoiding his steady gaze, I replied nervously, “Okay Samuel. But it depends how personal.”

“Of course,” he answered spreading his hands out in a placating manner. He then finished his coffee in one gulp and looked directly at me. I met his gaze.

“Mr McIntosh tells me that you are no stranger to, shall we say, the customs and conventions of the Natural Order.”

I could tell by his look that he required a positive response from me before continuing with the conversation. But my reply needed to be a guarded one.

“I have had it explained to me - yes!”

“By whom?”

The truth was that, not only had John, Marcie, and Róisín told me all they knew and understood about the subject, I had observed the way of life lived by the men and women in that fashion house many times since marrying my lovely red-haired Wife.

“John and Roìsín mainly.”

“So you know what a Black Master is?”

“I do!”

“Please tell me if my questions cause you discomfort. But are you aware of the other qualities us Masters have, other than the obvious?”

This was something new. I had been told of their sexual size and prowess, but clearly my knowledge of such matters was limited.

“Not really Samuel,” I replied, immediately feeling inadequate.

“We can spot an unsatisfied Wife from a mile away.”

I knew exactly what he was saying and went to the point immediately. “Do you include my Wife in that category Samuel?” I knew there was an edge to my voice, but I didn't care.

“I am probably more experienced in these matters Michael, and I would say that Róisín is happy with her life at present. But one day she may cheat on you.”

I felt my cheeks go red as anger took over. “She told me she would never cheat on me, mate!” I snapped, pretending to be angry but devastated at his suggestion.

“Of course,” he responded smoothly. “And I can tell that she would be as hurt as you, because of her religion, .....”

‘How does he know that?’ was my immediate reaction. She had said so herself when she had told me about her introduction to the ‘Reserves'

“...... and I am sure the last thing you want to do, is to cause Róisín any pain.”

“Of course not Samuel,” I responded, trying very hard to sound confident. “But I am beginning to think that there is more to this conversation than my Wife's  commercial acumen and our love-life.”

“Did Róisín tell you that I had asked her on a date,” he asked while locking his eyes onto mine in an intensive gaze.

“Yep!”

“Perhaps I should explain myself Michael, if you would permit me.”

“What's to explain Samuel. I have to admire your honesty, but we both know that you want to bed my Wife. Am I right?” As I said the words I knew that I had hit the nail on the head. I had spoken the unspoken and he knew it.

“Okay! Fair comment Michael. But please hear what I have to say.”

I nodded and sipped my Chablis.

“I already have a Mistress in the USA. Her name is Sherri, and we live in a house in upstate New York. This is us ...”

“I already have a Mistress
in the USA."

I looked at the proffered photograph he had taken from his inside pocket. It was a beautifully presented picture and I said so.

“It looks professional,” I said.

“It's her husband, Arnold’s hobby.”

“So looking at that,” I said, “my assumption would be that Arnold is a cuckold, and that delightful bump on her belly has something to do with you.”

He laughed, and we both relaxed. But I had another question. “Then why are you interested in my Wife, Samuel?” 

“If my Company and John's merge, then I shall be spending a lot of time here in London. We reckon it will be a fifty – fifty split. So we had the idea that I should have a ‘Ladyfriend' over this side of the ‘pond’.”

“Who's we?”

He smiled in recollection. “It was Sherri who said that I should have a pretty English Rose as a companion over here.”

“You know Róisín is Irish, don't you? From County Galway to be more accurate.”

“I know that Michael. But she ticks all the boxes.”

I threw my head back in an exaggerated reaction of surprise. “What is she - a fucking shopping list?”

He laughed loudly at this response from me, and seconds later I was laughing with him. Until he stopped suddenly and stared directly at me and said, “And so do you Michael.”

“What?”

“Tick all the boxes.”

“In what way?”

He placed the tips of his fingers together as an unconscious act of thoughtfulness, before saying, “Nothing that we have discussed here today has been a surprise to you, and you have shown me that the concept of being a practising cuckold is familiar to you. Except for my suggestion that one day Róisín will cheat on you.”

“You are right Samuel,” I agreed, “but I can't believe that Róisín would ever cheat on me.”

“I agree. But you know the old saying don't you?”

I felt another chill up my spine as I replied, “No! What is it?”

“It’s not cheating if the husband knows.”

I had heard that comment by others at the fashion house before; furthermore I understood completely just what this large Black Master was asking of me.

“So you want me to ask Róisín if she wants to go on dates with you?”

“No Michael. I want you to tell her that you would be okay with her dating me outside of your marriage, if .....”

I had my answer before he finished. “She'll say No. For certain.”

“Then ask her this one question Michael. Ask Róisín if she would have dated me if she was a single girl. And then you can make your decision.”

I was getting annoyed now, so my response was pithy as I rose from my seat to leave. “And what fucking decision is that Samuel?”

His smile was placating as he answered. “You already know the answer to that Michael.”

“Don't hold your breath waiting for my answer mate!”