Financial Difficulties

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By tazsis1

We got into some financial difficulty a few years ago. I’d borrowed a lot and Elaine and I spent too much over one Christmas on the kids and family. And then I lost my job. It was all very difficult and, as these things do, it affected our marriage profoundly. While we kept our troubles from the kids, Ellen and I talked about little else — driving out all playfulness, intimacy and, of course, sex from our life. For me, the whole thing was undermining, emasculating… all the clichés. I was meant to provide for the family, to take care of the money. But it was Ellen who worked, holding down a decent job, leaving me to do the housework and childcare. Over time I lost touch with my friends as I became more focused on our home and my work in it.

Then one day we got the call we feared most — a secretary from the bank phoned to set an appointment with the manager, a Mr Webb, for the very next day. Ellen and I barely slept that night. We talked and talked about what we would say, how we would try to win over Mr Webb, appealing to his sympathy. In a way I was relieved. The moment of crisis had come and it was all going to be faced, taken out of our hands and dealt with, one way or another.

The next morning, I dressed in my best shirt, tie and suit. I’d not worn one in months. Ellen, who had taken the whole day off work, dressed as if she was going to seduce Mr Webb. She wore a dark grey business suit from her working days before the kids, which now fitted like a second skin, bringing out her voluptuousness. Ellen left the jacket open except for one button. Her blouse gaped giving a great view of her deep, soft cleavage. The skirt ended just below the knee and clung to her hips and gorgeous big – her curvy legs looked fantastic, and you could see the ridges of her suspenders outlined against her thighs. Her feet were encased in black four-inch heels. Her calves had that beautiful, athletic bulge that stilettos gives and her arse and wide hips stood out high and firm. Her lips and eyes were made up to bring out her pale beauty and her light ginger hair.

Ellen is a beautiful 40-year-old. Her big grey-blue eyes are stunning when they hit you full beam. She has a demure, almost deferential manner, most of the time. But today, my wife was dressed like the office slut.


She used, before we had our three kids, to come home dressed in this sexy-working-girl way. I liked to jump her, fucking her on the floor, against the door, over the kitchen table, against the balcony window, immediately she walked in, her skirt yanked up and her panties pulled to the side or ripped off.

My favourite memory from this time, one I masturbate to this day, is of the first time I fucked Ellen in the arse. She had just walked through the door into the dark hall. Her back turned to me as she hung up her coat on the back of the door. I walked up to her fast, pushing her against the door. Immediately I forced her skirt up. She wasn’t wearing any panties, just hold up stockings.

“You are a slut. You’re dressed for fucking?” I whispered angrily in her ear. “Are you dressed like this for me or for your lover? Or did he keep your panties as a souvenir?”

She said nothing, just grunted as I forced three fingers into her vagina and pulled my hard cock out of my pants. She was wet, of course. I drove straight into her hard, no delicacy. She gave a little, unnecessary, scream.

“You’re all sloppy,” I hissed at her. “Have you been fucking some huge-dicked man at work? Is that his cum I can feel? You are a cock-hungry slut, my love. Fucked at work and coming home for more?”

I thrust into her, crushing her against the door, driving my excitement and my fury higher and higher at the imagined infidelity, my fantasy of her sluttishness. She arched her arse up to me. My cock came out of her as she moved and as I thrust back at her my dick was suddenly in her arse, just the tip. I stopped briefly to see if Ellen would protest. She said nothing, and she didn’t move. She just panted. So I pushed slowly all the way into her arse. I stopped, both of us getting used to the new sensation. I took hold of her hips and started fucking her slowly and deeply.

“Do you like this bitch?” She whimpered — never saying yes, never saying no. “Am I the first to sodomise you?” Again, no answer. “No? Is this how your lovers like to do you, fuck you in the arse like some cheap corner whore?”

I pulled myself right out, so that only my cock head was inside Ellen. With all my weight and strength, I forced myself hard and fast into her. I wanted to hurt her, punish her. Ellen screamed, this time she meant it. I held myself deep inside her, let cock spurt and twitch. When I’d finished, I wrenched myself out of her fast, again deliberately hurting her. She gave a little yell and slowly fell to her knees, crumpling onto her side.

Her white arse was exposed and leaking cum streaked with a little blood. Her fleshy hips and arse were marked where my fingers had dug into her hard. There would be bruises. I looked at her for a few seconds, feeling powerful. I bent over, scooping up some cum that had leaked from her. I brought my fingers to her lips. She kept them shut and tried to turn away. I smeared the semen on all over her face, scooping my mess from her leaking arse several times and soiling her face with it. I went back to the kitchen to finish my beer.


That night we talked about what had happened. Ellen told me that it had felt like being raped. She admitted that it had been very exciting and that while I sat in the kitchen finishing my beer she had silently brought herself to an orgasm with fingers against her clit.

We cuddled late into the night, talking about my fantasy of her fucking others, about how excited she got playing the slut. We fucked again, slowly and tenderly, and after I’d cum inside Ellen, she did one of her favourite sexual things — she had me lie on my back and straddled my face. I licked her cunt clean of my sperm as she came, and came and came.


That was a long time ago, ten years, and so much has changed. I am not the lover, the man, I was then. As I watched her come down the stairs my cock grew immediately hard at the overt sexiness of her clothes. Ellen looked at me and a little smile crossed her face, half hidden behind her fringe.

“Cool it Jack. This is not for you. I want to turn Mr Webb’s head. I couldn’t decide whether to wear panties… But perhaps he’d be able to smell my wetness if I went bare. It’s possible to be too slutty, isn’t it?”

My heart sank and my cock throbbed. I felt faint. She was enjoying this, my discomfort, and she was really enjoying playing the slut again. I was completely in her power. I wondered what she wanted from the appointment at the bank. Ellen pulled up her skirt, past the stockings to show me the wet front of her frilly black knickers. I went straight to my knees and crawled towards her. I pushed my nose and mouth into her and breathed in deeply, rubbing my nose into her groove of her lips and licking the gauzy front of her panties. Stunned, I realised she’d shaved herself absolutely clean of hair. She let me do this for a few seconds and then grabbed my hair hard in her fist. “Get off me, you dirty little dog. We need to go. Can’t be late for Mr Webb.”

I calmed down a little as I drove to the bank. We were silent. Ellen looked straight ahead composing herself. She hadn’t dressed like this for many, many months. Getting on my knees and sniffing of her cunt, like a “dirty little dog”, was the only form of sexual contact we’d had in weeks. I forced myself to focus on the meeting with Mr Webb, get my mind on the task ahead.

At the bank, we were ushered into a back office and offered a tea. Mr Webb eventually swept in, a great bear of a man of about 55 years old, very tall and fat and very, very black. We both jumped up nervously. He smiled mildly at me and shook my hand, crushing it until I winced. He took E’s hand and shook it slowly and gently, holding on to it far too long. He smiled at her revealing a great mouth of white teeth. He looked her up and down, scrutinising her, making no attempt to hide his admiration.

“Ellen. You look lovely. Thank you both for coming in. Sit, sit, please.”

He finally let go of her hand, got behind his desk and opened our file. He studied it for a few seconds, and looked up at us gravely.

“This is not a pretty sight. We have a problem here, Jack. How are we going to resolve this?” His eyes focused on me, bore into me, until I have to look away. “If I call in the loans, you are going to have to sell your home,” he said gravely. Suddenly I felt like crying. I knew he was playing with me, but I felt overwhelmed and vulnerable. “But I have some… Room for discretion here. I think we need to reschedule your loans and convert them into your mortgage and then look at your spending and income. This can be done, though it is going to entail a bit of sacrifice. What do you think?”

He was staring and smiling at Ellen, shamelessly looking at her tits. She sat straight and forward in her seat. Her knees set primly together, she bunched fists resting on them. This had the effect of pressing together her tits, and pushing them at Mr Webb.

“Whatever you can do for us Mr Webb… We will be tremendously grateful, very appreciative. Won’t we Jack.”

“I know you will Ellen, I know you will,” he said, grinning. “Did I tell you Jack, what a lucky man you are to have such a… Sexy and devoted wife.”

“I’m devoted, Mr Webb, I will do anything for my family,” Ellen went on simpering.

“That’s great,” he laughed.

I grinned at them both, nodding like an idiot. I was in a surreal nightmare. Ellen was flirting outrageously, offering herself to him. I was being set up and I was getting hard on the humiliation of knowing exactly where this was going. Finally, I found my voice.

“Of course, Mr Webb, we appreciate anything you can do for us. And, if we need to make a sacrifice, we will make it. We want to keep our family together, and in our home. We are desperate. Anything you can do… Anything we can do…” I trailed off, realising I was begging.

I looked over at Ellen. She smiled and reached over to pat my hand reassuringly. The rest of the meeting was a bit of a blur. Mr Webb pulled out a succession of forms and talked us through them in a patronising manner. He explained it all and it all seemed to make sense. At no point did I feel that I had any option but to go along with this powerful black man who wanted my wife as his plaything.

Ellen was at my side, holding my hand, comforting me, leading me on to do as I was being told. Mr Webb had taken us in hand and he was going to sort it all out for us — at a price. Then he called in his secretary who took me off to a side office where I sat at a desk and tried to concentrate on the forms, signing each one, reading some, completely distracted by what might be going on in the next door office. I could hear talking but not the precise words and occasionally Ellen’s best flirtatious laugh rang out.

It took about half an hour, but finally I gathered up the pile of forms and made my way back to Mr Webb’s office. I knocked on the closed door and went in. They were standing by the window looking out, their backs to the room. Ellen was laughing at a joke of Mr Webb’s that I hadn’t heard. His hand was on her arse, cupping it, the fingers pressing into the junction of her thighs and cheeks. As I walked in they looked over at me. Mr Webb’s hand moved off Ellen’s arse only very slowly, giving her a long lingering, proprietorial stroke. As she turned back into the room, Ellen clumsily buttoned up her blouse.

“All done,” I said meekly.

Finally, he let go of her arse, patting it firmly. Ellen gave a little giggle. Mr Webb checked the forms, we thanked him profusely, said our goodbyes and were ushered out of the bank into the bright day.

On the way home, we were silent for part of the journey, each deep in thought. “Ellen, he was touching you on the arse,” I said sullenly. “Why did you let him do that? Your blouse was undone. What happened?”

This was such a stupid question, and I knew it, but I had to ask. I felt I was in a dream, automatically playing my role of the jealous husband about to be cuckolded.

“Oh Jack, what a child you are,” Ellen said, laughing gently. “Mr Webb felt my tits up too. My nipples are still hard and I am soaking between the legs. Here feel this.”

She grabbed a hand off the steering wheel and pulled it under her skirt and against her cunt. She was very wet against her panties. I yanked my hand away in anger.

“He showed me his huge cock and I touched it. He asked me out for a date. Tonight, we’re going for dinner. I didn’t feel able to say no and I didn’t want to. Remember the ‘sacrifice’ you were so willing to make. That’s me. And to tell you the truth, I’m looking forward to it.”

“You can’t go out with him,” I shouted back. “He will want to… To… To fuck you. He’s big and ugly and fat and smug and old and black. He’ll turn you into his slut.”

“Don’t be racist. Of course he wants to fuck me. He wants his reward. We got into this situation and he has offered us a way out. That’s the deal. Live with it. And maybe I want to be a slut for him. Maybe I want a little of that huge cock. God knows, I’m not getting any elsewhere.”

I looked at her in shock. She turned on me, her eyes flashing in cold anger.

“Don’t play the innocent with me. I am the one whoring myself to keep our home and family together. You have forfeited your rights as the man of the house. You can’t provide for us and you have not been able to satisfy me for some time. I need a proper man to take care of me properly.”

By the time we parked the car out the front of our house I was exhausted and near tears. Ellen softened.

“It’s ok baby. It’s going to be fine. Let’s go inside.”

I burst into tears as she led me into the house by the hand. Ellen sat me in the sitting room in the big armchair and took charge. She called her mum and asked her to pick the kids up from school, keep them for the night and take them swimming the next morning, a Saturday. She explained that she and I needed some time together.

After she hung up and walked up to me briskly, stooped slightly and slapped me hard on the cheek.

“Stop that snivelling you useless little wimp.”

I was shocked by her sudden violence and tried desperately to stop myself bursting into tears again. My cheek burnt hot and the sound of the slap rang in my ears. I stopped crying, but must still have looked pitiful to her. She was, of course, superb, imperious and overwhelming.

Ellen stood there close and looming over me, her hands on hips and her feet planted apart. She opened her jacket, took it off and dropped it on the carpet. She undid her blouse and let it fall open. Her magnificent chest was now exposed, encased in her bra. She discarded the blouse, undid her skirt and let it fall to the floor showing me her full beauty in underwear, suspenders and stockings. She drew up a dining chair and sat back, spreading her legs lewdly. She put a hand to the soaked front of her panties, cupped her cunt and started rubbing gently through the material. She was breathing hard and deep, not looking at me, but off to the side. She had a dreamy hooded look, perhaps thinking of Mr Webb and his “huge” cock. Her other hand rose to the front fastening of her bra and opened it. Her tits tumbled out heavily and she began to stroke her nipples.

“Listen baby. I know your dirty little secret. I have seen you in my lingerie. I came home early last Wednesday, and saw you on the bed in my panties and stockings.”

I couldn’t look her in the eye. I felt trapped again and suddenly panic and a deep dread ran through me. I thought she was going to throw me out. I would be absolutely humiliated, ridiculed, turned on by her and my family. I tried to say something, but my mind went blank, and my tongue stuck.

She shushed me. “It’s OK, sweetie. You looked good – very girly, with your slim hips and long legs. I watched a little, but decided to leave you at it. You were so close to cumming. It looked like you had something in your arse. Did you?”


“What was it?”

“A courgette.”

“Wow, you are a dirty little slut. Did it feel good?”


“Of course it did. How long have you dressed up in my things?”

“About six months. More.”


“I’ve always wanted to. It feels so good. It feels naughty.

“How did I end up with a useless sissy boy for a house husband?” Ellen was smiling when she said this. “You should have said, love. All these years and I had no idea. I don’t mind, really, I don’t. It’s sweet. We could have fun with it. You’re the ‘wife’ after all.”

All the while she was massaging her pussy through her panties and stroking her breasts.

“Mr Webb is going to fuck me, you know. Finally, I’m going to make you a cuckold, just as you’ve fantasised all these years, just as you deserve.”

I could hardly breathe as I watched Ellen. She seemed so blasé with the idea of going on a date with the old black man and being unfaithful to me, with me cross-dressing. This wasn’t a game or fantasy. This was going to happen. Her eyes were closed and her head was thrown back as she started to masturbate in earnest. She pinched her breasts and pulled hard on her nipples.

“Eat me Jack. I need to come so badly.”

I got on my knees between her legs and started to kiss my way up her left leg. By the time I got up to her vagina, she had pulled her knickers aside. I rested my head on her thigh and licked at her puffy lips first then her clit. A hand grabbed my hair and pulled me hard into her — my nose against her clit and my tongue thrusting into her like a little cock.

“He is huge baby, has a big python of a cock bellow that flabby belly. I bet he will be rough too. He thinks he owns me. He’s going to want to make me his whore. He’s going to stretch me so, so much.”

She came hard and then pushed me away. I fell on my back, my penis tenting my trousers.

“Show me your little dick, baby. Don’t touch it. Let me do this for you. It is little you know, tiny by comparison. I’ve never said so before, but my boyfriends in college were quite a bit bigger, thicker. Not like Mr Webb though. I bet I’ll get a taste his cock later.”

I pulled my trousers down around my ankles and lay back on the floor spread my knees to expose my pitiful genitalia to her. I was hard, twitching with excitement, but I must have looked pathetic to her. Still in my suit and tie, but my dick displayed for her. She stretched a foot over and rubbed her toes and the ball of her foot against my balls, pressing down hard.

“You are really enjoying this sweetie, aren’t you? Do you like being cast as the wimp, the cuckold, the sissy? Imagine it. Tonight I am going to fuck another man, an old, fat black man.”

She drew her foot up and down my cock wanking me. Her stockings became wet from my leaking cum.

“I’m going to suck his cock. I’m going to allow him to put the giant black thing in my tight little cunt. He’ll open me up so wide.”

I came then heavily, all over my smart shirt and tie.

Ellen went upstairs and spent two hours bathing and preparing herself for Mr Webb. Before retreating upstairs, she told me to strip and gave me her soiled, wet panties, and her stockings and suspenders to wear. I set to cleaning up the house and preparing her a gin and tonic for her before she went out. I was hard and dripping with excitement as I worked.

Ellen finally called me up to our room where I found her standing at the foot of the bed admiring herself in the full length mirror. She wore a lacy black bra that held her breasts high and pressed together, hold-up stockings and red high-heeled shoes. Her hair and face are done to perfection — beautiful and slightly whorish. She took her drink from the tray I held out for her.

“Thank you sissy. How do I look?”

I told her she looked fabulous, that Mr Webb would be very pleased.

“I’m going to wear the little black dress you bought me on our honeymoon. I think that will send the right message — to Mr Webb and to anyone who sees me. We’re eating in town, at the fancy new Italian place. I might run into someone we know. They’re going to get the picture straight away, aren’t they… Me dressed like that with a big old black man. That’s almost the most exciting thing — everyone will know what I’m going to get after dinner… A huge black cock.”

Ellen laughed and beckoned me over. We stood close together, similarly dressed, but so far apart. She was radiant and beautiful – a confident sexual woman at play. I was a little, pitiful sissy husband, about to be cuckolded. Ellen reached down to my always hard, streaming penis.

“Does your dicklette need relief again?” She stroked me through the panties. Three or four times, her cupped hand wanked me and I came, grunting and panting. Her free hand came up to my shoulders to steady me.

“There, there, sweetie. That must feel better.”

I thanked her. When I’d caught my breath, she said: “I want you to lubricate me, baby. I don’t want Mr Webb to tear me with his big cock.”

She held a little open tub of jelly out to me. I took it in my shaking hand.

“Enough to grease me up me, but not so much that he’ll notice. Front and back, please sweetie – just in case.”

Ellen then turned her back to me and got on all fours on the bed. She stuck her arse high and arched her back, resting her cheek comfortably on her duvet. She was putting on a show for me, making me complicit in all this – I was preparing her, in the most intimate way, for Mr Webb. I knelt on the floor at the end of the bed. I kissed Ellen’s full soft arse and lapped gently at her cunt and then her anus.

“Jack love, he’ll be here soon. I don’t think he’s a patient man.”

I rolled the end of my index finger in the jelly and pressed it to her arsehole, gently twisting my finger in deeply. I did this a second time with a little more lubricant. Then, using my other hand, I coated the lips of her completely shaven cunt with a light film of it. I rubbed my cock, erect again, through the soaked panties.

Ellen thanked me, giving me a chaste little kiss on the lips. She dressed quickly, pulling up a pair of lacy knickers, and then finishing off with the clinging black cocktail dress that left little to the imagination.

“While I’m out with Mr Webb, I want you to shave off all the hair around your little dicklette, have a nice bath in some sweet smelling oil. You can wear what you like from my cupboard. I want you to wear what you want from now on. I want you to be my sissy house husband all the time.”

We sat at the kitchen table for about ten minutes, talking about stuff – me in stockings and sperm covered panties, Ellen dressed for sex and lubricated “front and back” — and waited.

Exactly at the appointed time, a big Cadillac drove up in front of the house. Mr Webb just honked long and hard, getting our attention and that of the neighbours. Ellen froze, looking at me, suddenly nervous. Then she gathered herself.

“See you later, baby. Don’t stay up and don’t worry — I’ll be fine, and I’ll tell you all about it, of course. Don’t touch yourself, I’ll relieve you when I get back.”

She then walked out the front door and into the big arms of a Mr Webb. I watched from behind the curtain as he got out of the car to greet and open the door for her — a real gentleman, of course. They exchanged a few words as they stood by the car and then, as if it is the most natural thing in the world, Ellen reached up to Mr Webb’s big face with her hands and drew him down into a deep, long, wet kiss full on the mouth. They were under the streetlights, in plain view of me and the neighbours. I was left at home alone, sick with anxiety and jealousy, and excited beyond belief.


I woke up as I heard Ellen coming up the stairs. It was 3am. She stumbled into the room. I sat up and turned the bedside light on. She was a terrible mess. Her hair mussed up and matted in places. Her lipstick was gone and her lips looked swollen and heavy. There were blotches on her face and neck and cleavage that must have been dried cum. Her dress was creased and misshapen, and there were long ladders in her stockings.

She put her finger to her lips to indicate that I should not say anything and came to stand by the bed. I sat up on the edge of the bed and put my feet on the floor, staring up at her.

“Hey, baby, are you OK? Did you do as I said — no wanking your little dickie?” I smiled and nodded. She stroked my cheek tenderly. “And I see you shaved yourself. Nice panties and vest. Good. You’re going to be my good little cuckold sissy husband aren’t you?”

Again, I nodded. Ellen was roaring drunk and smelt strongly of sex and cigarettes. “I am so happy that you are darling. Do you want me to show you what Mr Webb did to me? He fucked me and made me his whore? He was huge, baby, more than a foot long and so thick.”

I nodded dumbly again, feeling sick in the pit of my stomach. She tilted the bedside lamp up to give me a better view of her. Ellen slowly pulled her dress off her shoulders and let it fall to her waist. Her braless breasts were exposed.

“He liked my breasts a lot, paid them a lot of attention… He was very, very rough. Look how swollen they are, bruised and sore. He couldn’t keep his hands off them, squeezing them hard and tugging on the nipples, and slapping them just to watch them bounce. He made me show them off in the restaurant. He pinched me here, underneath. I’m going to be so bruised in the morning.”

She lifted one of her sweet, heavy breasts to show me the angry red marks. In the process, she lifted a nipple to her mouth and licked it wetly.

“I’ve been such a slut for Mr Webb.” She squeezed her tits in both hands now, roughly pulling on her nipples, as if to demonstrate what he had done. Ellen started breathing heavily. Her breasts were swollen, almost misshapen, looking bigger than ever.

“Can you see cum on my face and tits? Some of it hasn’t dried yet. Mr Webb made me suck him when he dropped me off. I wanted him to cum in, but he made me kneel outside, in front of the house. God knows who saw me swallowing that huge black thing? Everyone is going to know that I am a black man’s slut and that you are my sweet cuckold sissy house husband. Here baby, taste this.” Ellen pulled my face into her abused, dirty breasts, and I lapped up Mr Webb’s cum, some of it just deposited there, some of it dried and crusty. Bit by bit, I licked it all up, cleaning her breasts, neck and face.

“You are good, dear. Thank you.” Ellen bent down and kissed me, an urgent open-mouthed kiss, with real hunger. She tasted pungent, of cock and booze. I was thrilled, so excited I felt faint.

“I love you, you know, my sweet little sissy.”

Ellen stepped away from me and pushed her dress all the way down, and stepped out of it. She’d lost her panties too. She stood with her hands on her hips, her legs parted about two feet, encased in torn and stained holdups. There was something defiant, almost aggressive about this pose. She wanted me to look at her closely, to study and admire her, to marvel at the marks and traces left on her skin by her fat black lover with the huge cock.

I ran my fingertips all over Ellen’s skin, trying to decode and memorise the blemishes. Eventually, I was drawn, of course, to her cunt. I stared and stared. The lips were swollen, pink and raw, and opened up.

“I’m full of his seed, baby. Cup your hand below my cunt.” She tilted her hips forward, bent her knees a little, and bore down with her internal muscles. A big goblet of spunk fell into my hand. She smiled down at me. I brought my hand up to my face and without breaking eye contact licked Mr Webb’s cum from my palm.

“Good boy, good boy. He would be so pleased with you. Mr Webb told me to have you clean me up. I’m so pleased with you.”

She turned to show me her arse, and stuck it out at me, reaching round to pull her cheeks apart.

“He fucked me here too. Can you see how stretched I am? It was so painful to begin with. Lick my arse for me, clean me up.”

I knelt behind her and pulled her cheeks as wide as I could. My tongue entered her with no impediment. I pushed in as far as I could. I make a seal around her arsehole and sucked hard, drawing a few heavy drops of seed from her. I pulled away to breath.

Ellen kicked off her shoes, climbed onto the bed and crawled to her side and lay down on her back. She pulled up one knee and let her legs fall open lewdly. She smiled at me tiredly.

“Take my shoes off please. You can try fucking me if you like, love, but I’m very loose and wide.”

I pulled her heels off and rubbed her feet a little.

“I’ll give you a hand job, if you want,” Ellen said, her voice trailing off with exhaustion.

I rubbed her feet a few minutes. Almost instantly Ellen was asleep and breathing deeply.

The End.


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