What His Girlfriend Told Me, Pt. 2
Our eyes met across the dimly lit room. Of course, she couldn’t possibly recognize me . . . but why did she keep staring in my direction? I pretended not to notice even though it was hard not to stare back — she was dressed somewhere between “to the nines” and “streetwalker” . . . not that those two aesthetics are mutually exclusive, of course!
Especially not for two-timing girlfriends like Kelsey. Cuckolding queens like her were the kind of girls I tend to gravitate towards . . . Maybe I have a sixth sense for the other slutty exhibitionist, utter-boyfriend-humiliation-loving bitches? It seemed Kelsey did, too. She was approaching me, drink in hand and red stilettos clacking loudly against the low music from the jukebox. I’m pretty sure it was Pat Benatar’s “Heartbreaker.” It’s hard to say — the night started to get blurrier real fast.
“Cheers, yeah?” Kelsey had sidled up to the bar stool next to mine. I raised my glass to toast her, her mischievous grin a reflection of my own. She looked at me closely. “You seem familiar. Have we met?”
I laughed. “I don’t think so. But you seem familiar to me, too. Maybe we were destined to meet here tonight, you know?” I winked at her.
“Oh yeah? Maybe you’re right. Maybe you could help me with my uh, the problem I’m having tonight.” She took a long sip of her drink. It looked like a long island iced tea. This girl was trying to get into some serious trouble tonight — and whatever kind of trouble it was, I was definitely in for the ride . . .
I pretended I didn’t know the situation with my caller’s girlfriend as she explained it, taking me through the months of tormenting and (not so secretly) cuckolding him as we finished a few rounds of drinks. She wasn’t leaving anything out . . . not a single humiliating detail! And what she’d been up to was a lot more intense and serious than my oh-so-tragic little cuckolded caller had imagined. I knew she’d been denying him sex for months and I knew she’d been sleeping around . . . a few white guys at first, but then after getting her first taste of BBC she’d only wanted more of that.
“Once you go black you never go back,” right? Kelsey definitely hadn’t!
She told me about how her secret black boyfriend count had gotten up to 4 now . . . and how one of them invited her over tonight to hang out with him AND a bunch of his friends. And yes, they were all black guys, too . . . and yes, they were all definitely well hung. She showed me the dick pics he’d sent her. Very rarely do I gasp as loud as I did when I saw those giant black cocks — and even more rarely am I actually speechless. But damn, those pictures were impressive.
“The thing is I want to really show my boyfriend what I’m up to,” Kelsey explained. “He’s such a clueless idiot, so totally in denial. I want to shock him out of that tonight. I want to make him watch. And I want to make him do something really humiliating, too.”
I was transfixed by her determination to embarrass the fuck out of my caller. So I hoped she was about to say what I thought she was about to say.
“I want to make him eat his own cum.”
Yep, she was thinking exactly what I was thinking. She was a fucking genius.