Silent Witness, Love, Lust, and Betrayal
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
Silent Witness,
Love, Lust, and Betrayal
Thomas’s wife betrays him with his best friend
An adventure in interracial cuckoldry
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
© Copyright 2023 by Mary Not Wollstonecraft
NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic sexual nature. This book is pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously—any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, actual events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Silent Witness,
Love, Lust, and Betrayal
How a person talks to a waiter or waitress says a lot about a person. My wife is kind and considerate to people of color. Native Americans, Blacks, Indians, Latins, and Asians, she’s never demeaning or cruel. But white servers she speaks to in cold, harsh ways. Sometimes she casually insults them.
Likewise, Sherlyn’s always been quite harsh to me. I’ve never made enough money, I’m not good in bed, I’m a disappointment to her. Of course, when friends are around, Sherlyn wears a mask of civility to me. Often, I contemplate my slavery.
That’s what our marriage is. She’s the owner, and I’m the slave.
She’s made no secret of her disappointment in me. She’s also made comments to me, she picked the wrong friend. I have a black buddy I’ve always palled around with. However, she also told me I was the logical choice, since I was easy to control, and Jim would have been a chore to tame.
I don’t mind her cruelty. I’ve always believed I deserved whatever rebuke she gave. I have many shortcomings and one works with what one has. And her brutal treatment gives her pleasure. Being her whipping boy is the best way I have to make her happy.
A few years ago, when my favorite football team made it to the Super Bowl, I was quite excited. Several friends came over, and the wives retired to one part of the house to watch chick flicks in our home theater. The guys had to make do with only a Fifty-inch screen in my man cave. The game was dreadful, a total blowout, and not in a good way. My team left the field totally emasculated. Everyone left but my best friend, an Afro-American named Jim. The two of us stayed to the bitter end.
We watched the whole damn spectacle.
We had been drinking all day, and the worse the game got, the more we drank. My wife Sherlyn joined Jim and me in the man cave after the last of my friends with wives left. She quickly noted how drunk we were and gave us the lecture. She ordered Jim to provide her with his keys and disappeared, returning a short time later. Sherlyn told us she was turning in, and the guest room was ready for Jim.
At two in the morning, we called it a night. He was steadier on his feet than I was. Once we were on the main level, I told him I would crash on the couch. I couldn’t face another flight of stairs. I dropped to the couch.
“No, bro., I’ll help you to your bed,” Jim said.
Now, Jim’s not a tall guy. He is only about five feet six or seven inches tall, but powerful. How he had stayed single, I did not know, but he kept his freedom. I had been married since I was twenty-one and was going on my twelfth year of slavery.
Now that is not to say that Sherlyn is a wicked wife. She is, however, quite miserly with sex. My slavery isn’t even about that, though if I got fucked more, it would help. But holding out on me gave her such happiness, I’d never demand she put out. The worst thing is, I see a fine honey in a bar, and I can’t even put the moves on her.