Cuckolded by the Black Handymen

By Kiki Bangs

Tom and his sexy blonde wife Mandy have hired a team of handymen to do some yard work, but the handymen wind up doing a whole lot more than that. Much to Tom’s dismay, Mandy is captivated by the four virile, handsome young black men, and before the day is done Tom is helplessly watching them take his wife right in front of him. Adults only. Contains interracial sex, gangbang sex, cuckolding, breeding, double penetration, triple penetration, and hot, dripping creampies. 15,750 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kiki Bangs
• Release date: Aug 4, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310502941

Book preview

Cuckolded by the Black Handymen

By Kiki Bangs

Copyright 2015 by Kiki Bangs

All rights reserved

This work contains explicit content and is intended for adults only. All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

Tom was in his office, working on an article that was due by the end of the week, when he heard engines coming up the long driveway of the country farmhouse he shared with his wife Mandy.

He sat back, his office chair creaking, and looked at the window. The Venetian blinds were drawn, hiding the view, though bright early-afternoon sunlight shone in whitely around their edges. The engines steadily grew louder.

It must be the handymen they’d hired to do the routine yard work that a large property like this required lest it become a jungle. This was a new crew, the company Tom and Mandy used to use having recently gone out of business. Tom didn’t know a lot about these new guys, but their prices were competitive, and the few ratings they had on Angie’s List were stellar.

Knowing that Tom had a deadline to beat, Mandy had offered to deal with the handymen herself. Still, Tom couldn’t help taking a quick look anyway. He got up, went to the window, and lifted one of the slats of the blinds.

The office was on the first floor at the front of the house, and from the window he had a scenic view of the property: the green lawn stretching away, shaded here and there by stately oaks and elms, and beyond it, the dense wood that surrounded the property. The place had been somewhat run-down and overgrown when Tom and Mandy bought it three years ago, but a lot of hard work had restored it to its original beauty.

Coming up the driveway were two pickup trucks towing flatbeds loaded with mowers and trimmers and similar equipment. The sides of the trucks sported the name of the company Tom and Mandy had hired: Damien’s Full-Service Handyman Squad.

Mandy stepped into view from the right side of the window. Tom smiled as he watched her stop at the edge of the driveway to await the workmen. Even after seven years of marriage she still turned him on, and he still felt a sense of amazement and gratitude that he had landed a girl as beautiful and bright and wonderful as her. He let his gaze linger over her trim, petite figure as a breeze flattened her filmy white sundress against her body, revealing her shapely contours—her high, round breasts, her trim waist, her smoothly curving hips. She raised one slender arm to hold her wide-brimmed straw sunhat in place. The blonde locks that cascaded down from beneath the hat glowed like spun gold in the sunlight. Her sandaled feet were specked with dirt from the flower bed out back where she’d been working.

He was about to drop the slat back into place and resume his work, but then he glanced up at the trucks again and froze. While he had been ogling Mandy, the trucks had drawn close enough for Tom to see their occupants. Two men sat in the cab of each truck, all of them young and black. White teeth flashed in brown faces as the men in one cab laughed heartily at something.

Tom drew back from the window with a grunt. He hadn’t known they were black. The secretary he had spoken to on the phone sounded like a kindly old white lady. Then again, why should it matter? It shouldn’t, of course. People were just people, right?

He returned to his desk and sat down. He raised his fingers over the keyboard, ready to resume typing. Instead he froze like that, listening.

The engines grew louder, then stopped in front of the house. Car doors opened and banged shut. Heavy footsteps gritted on the driveway. Then Mandy spoke, her soft, feminine tones too low for Tom to hear what she was saying. She was answered by the deep rumble of a man’s voice.

Tom’s hands dropped into his lap, and he sat back in his chair and stared at the window, his body rigid and still.

The conversation outside went on, the men’s low, rumbling tones alternating with the softer strains of Mandy’s voice. Tom still couldn’t make out any words.

No doubt they were just discussing the job she and Tom wanted them to do: mow, edge-trim, prune, weed, fertilize—

Mandy laughed, a high, clear trill of notes. Then she said something, and the men laughed. Mandy laughed again, too, though her soft, melodious tones were almost lost beneath the men’s deep, booming laughter.

Frowning, Tom looked at the computer screen, at the rows of words on the white background, and tried to focus on his work. But he couldn’t stop listening to the voices, the laughter.