Forgive Us Our Debts: The Bookie's Demand

By Brock Johnson

When Jim makes a bad bet, he must risk his marriage to make good with his bookie. When he reveals what he has done, Donna, his wife, calls his bet. As the blonde Donna rediscovers he desire for large men of color, her hapless husband discovers in himself his deep, cuckold desires.
Over the course of the evening, Jim will suffer joyously at the sight of his wife servicing, and happily satisfying herself and the two men who made his life a living hell.

“Zeke laughed, deep and manly. Donna felt a thrill zing through her body. The idea of just having these two men and humiliating Jim in the process was just too tempting. She sat back down in her recliner as Zeke moved like a panther and seized Jim before he could react. He ripped Jim’s shirt across the chest and pulled the fabric back to pinion his arms behind him. He then yanked Jim’s pants down until they were around his calves.
“Oh ho!” exclaimed Sammy. “I guess he really does get off on this!””

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tall Tale Depot, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005722807

Brock Johnson

One should live one's life according one's own credo. I have always believed this. I have traveled the world and had many adventures as the captain of my own destiny. I have always been the one to have a girl in every port. I have always been the one in command of any situation in which I found myself. I have been a man who has lived life as a man ought. And because of that I give to you the experiences of a lifetime as a man who knows what he wants and gets what he wants. My stories are only slightly altered from the pages of my biography. Raised in a Florida town, I joined the Merchant Marine and traveled the world. I have seen everything worth seeing and done everything worth doing. Now I share the experiences of a life well lived, the life of a man, with you. Enjoy!

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Forgive Us Our Debts:

The Bookie’s Demand

by

Brock Johnson

Copyright 2021 HSB and Tall Tale Depot

All rights reserved.

Published by Tall Tale Depot, Inc.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All persons depicted in this fiction are consenting adults over the age of eighteen, as required by federal law.

I told you what you needed to do, now didn’t I? said Sammy the Book.

The Jim mumbled something through swollen lips.

What was that? said Sammy. He looked at the gorilla holding Jim upright and nodded. The huge guy, failed prize-fighter, lifted the not unsubstantial Jim by the neck and slammed him into the wall and let go. The aforementioned Jim collapsed in a sobbing heap on the floor in the back-room of the bodega where Sammy ran his book.

Sammy hauled back and delivered a skilled kick to Jim’s ribs with the sharp toe of his garish wingtip. Jim curled around the pain. Sammy stood over the writhing man and looked down at him. His lips curled with disgust. You are such a scumbag degenerate! He snarled. You must just love the pain and suffering of being a such a loser!

Eyes screwed up from the pain, Jim nodded vigorously, his cheek rubbing painfully against the filthy, concrete floor.

Fucking worm! Sammy signaled to Zeke, his huge, brutal enforcer. Get his wallet.

The bruiser snatched Jim’s billfold from his back pocket, the nearly banana-sized fingers ripping the denim. Wordlessly, he handed to his boss.

Oh ho! he said, pulling a thin wad of cash. You have this, but you can’t pay me? He nodded to Zeke.

With one hand, the huge, burly fighter, his obsidian face empty of all expression, yanked Jim from the floor with one hand. He pushed the pathetic gambler against the wall and looked at his boss. Jim stood upright only because of the massive paw pinning him against the wall. He mumbled, I need that money for rent.

That’s cute, said Sammy. He pocketed the bills. That should cover most of the vig. He hummed as he continued the dissection of Jim’s wallet. He pulled the credit cards. Probably maxed out, he said to himself. Might get a couple of bucks from a fence. Those went into a different pocket. He looked at the hapless Jim. You got nothing else?

Head hanging, Jim shook his head wearily.

Sammy nodded to Zeke again.

The failed fighter slammed his huge fist into Jim’s belly.

It was a few minutes before Jim could talk again. He would have collapsed