Unmasked by the Masters F(50)MMM(30+) Interracial, public, BDSM

Covid 19 shattered the world that was, the understanding we had, the illusions of security and privilege that our society accepts. The world my husband lived in. Before our marriage, I had been a soldier and served a lot of places where the safety and security he believes is the natural state had never existed, where loss touched everyone, where risks couldn’t be managed, they just had to be survived. Now that Covid came, everyone got to join my world.

My comfortable teaching job was on hold, outreach teaching is not really needed when all the classes are on line anyway. I was called up by my reserve army unit to work to support the struggle to keep the vulnerable populations, the old folks homes and shut ins with medical issues supplied.

Here was the biggest fight for our survival in my lifetime and I am reduced to running supplies to those bearing the brunt of the fight in the hospitals every day. I was probably in the best shape in a decade, from all the loading and unloading, and from the terrible field rations that honestly no one will ever over eat, so my uniform pants made my ass draw every eye when I bent over, and even the mostly shapeless mass of the combat tunic couldn’t totally hide a 48G-40-46 figure. My long red hair which was my pride and joy was confined in a bun so tight it could stop a bullet. Sure you were allowed to wear it longer now, but I came up when you couldn’t let hair touch your collar on pain of pain, and it stuck with me.

I haven’t seen my husband in weeks, we are isolating to keep from bringing any exposure home to our families. What I am seeing is really getting to me. The real heroes.

Vivek was a nurse at the seniors center. He was at all times up beat and cheerful, even to the patients with dementia who sometimes said some terrible things, as their mental filters broke down and all the nasty thoughts came out. He just smiled, called them all Aunty and Uncle, and made everyone feel it was gonna be OK.

He was the one who organized the cleaning crew, and who organized the supply runs. Cleaning isn’t a nothing job right now, it is the first line, and the only line of defense for the old folks homes. If Covid gets in, many will die. You have to do everything right to a ridiculous extent every day, because one mistake is all it takes. Fear with every cough and fever. Colleges getting sick in other places, other homes who did everything right almost every time having an outbreak and losing people.

The stress was getting to everyone. I see it, when I come there in the late afternoon to do our supply run, Vivek and the cleaning staff will be out the back. Masks hanging down before I get there. Before the masks go on again, I see the dark Indian faces, the dark eyes that are usually smiling and twinkling are looking so tired, so defeated. As soon as I open the truck and step out, the mask goes back on, and he turns on his friendly cheer, even his cleaning crew who wait for me to finish unloading before they come to get their supplies paste on a smile seen only by the crinkling of their eyes.

Masks hide a lot of the face, but they make you focus on the eyes. I was having serious problems talking to Vivek. Every time I looked in those dark Hindu eyes, my breath got fast, my skin blushed, and my nipples started rubbing at the rough seams of my combat tunic pockets as they hardened. It was good the tunic was so bulky or how aroused I got every time I looked into his eyes would make my wedding ring look like a sick joke not a promise of fidelity to my white husband.

We at all times joked, I admit I flirted with Vivek almost against my own will. I tried not to, but I full on made a production over bending in front of him just to hear him groan as he stared at my ass as my camouflage pants which were deliberately cut very roomy stretched tight over the muscular heart shaped ass I was waving in front of him. The side account looks as I came up let me know they were all doing their best to guess how my breasts looked under the tunic. Not being able to see my husband at all meant that even our usual once every three or four weeks lovemaking was off, and its not like sleeping in a group tent leaves a girl decent chances to masturbate. I was losing my mind with tension and Vivek in his blue nurses scrubs was the sexiest thing I had seen. His two Indian buddies in their janitors uniforms somehow managed to exude a dark sensual power when they looked at me that made me wonder whether the cheerful easy going teddy bear or the dark intense sensual tiger was the truth of these weary front line health care heroes.

As I straightened from my last bend to put down a case of non-latex gloves on the large pile of supplies, I turned to look how Vivek was taking it, as I heard him moan. I was still bent, so when I looked I was about level with his crotch where he stood on the deck above me.

I saw the outline of a cock. It was gigantic. About nine or ten inches long by the look, and not thick like a couple of fingers, thick like a boa constrictor, like a pop bottle.

Vivek had shut his eyes as he adjusted himself, as his underwear was not built for that level of growth, He joked, not knowing I was staring at his cock, hypnotized like a rabbit in front of a rearing cobra.

“God Jan, you have to stop doing that. Neither I nor the lads have had any relief for a month now, and you can’t go starting something you aren’t going to finish”

There was a metal railing between us, I was not beside the three stairs up to the deck, but beside the deck itself overlooking the parking lot. That meant that while there was a low metal railing between us, I was standing on ground a few feet below the deck he was on, but only half a foot away. Half a foot away, blushing furiously, mouth hanging open in shock, and desire, close enough to eye level with his cock that if he whipped it out now it would hit my chin on the way to pointing skyward.

Vivek looked down, seeing me staring at the outline of his cock, slowly he stroked it, making it press against the thin scrubs like some pagan god of lust.

“Jan, Jan, Jan,” Vivek teased. “You can’t go waving that married white ass at Hindu men like that and not get a rise out of us. We are not like your husband, we can’t look at a beautiful woman like you and think about making love to her once or twice a week. A woman like you we would be taking once or twice a day; and we have been here trying to keep your grandparents, aunts and uncles safe, without being able to do more than talk to our wives and girlfriends on the phone.”

I tried to get control of the conversation back, but my brain was having trouble, every time his cock twitched I moved closer until I was almost touching the metal railing with my cheeks, nose level with his scrubs draw string.

“My husband tries to make love to me at least once a month. I know I am not eighteen any more, I have daughters in university, and I understand sometimes no matter what I do to try to arouse him, I am just not sexy enough”

Vivek slapped me, not hard, but firm.

I looked up in shock to see his eyes, blazing over his mask. He spoke now in a tone of command so pure the soldier in me jumped to obey, and the woman in me felt every nerve in my skin from where I was slapped, down through my spine, through my nipples, and down into my quivering belly where my sleeping sex suddenly flared with HUNGER.

“You will never speak ill of yourself again. You are a sexy woman, a beautiful woman. You should not have to try to arouse a man, any real man would be restraining himself from taking you. You are looking at my hard Hindu cock. Jan, you poor little redheaded waif, if you don’t believe my words, believe my cock. Touch it, feel what you bring out in a real man, a Hindu man”

I reached out to stroke his cock. Oh it was THICK, and hard, not semi hard like my husband, but hard and throbbing like the living god my vibrators at home were mounded to imitate. I stroked it first with one, then two hands. Vivek laughed softly and said something in liquid musical Hindi to his two buddies who came to press against the railing on either side of him, grinning down at me.

“You need to be shown what it is like to be taken by a Hindu man, and taught what it is your body was meant to feel like when it is properly and completely possessed.”

Nobody says that. Nobody even writes outside of bad bodice ripping romance novels. The sort of novels that fill the drawer I keep my three vibrators, butt plug and beads in. I whimpered. I didn’t say yes, didn’t say no, didn’t run. I whimpered and kissed the flaring outline of his cock through his scrubs.

Vivek ordered me; didn’t ask, didn’t suggest, simply ordered me.

“That hair doesn’t belong in that soldiers butcher like you are imitating a man. Take it down for me. I want to see you as a woman for me”

I shuddered, almost cumming in my combats. That was the single sexiest thing I had ever heard. I tossed my cap, and unpinned my hair, pulling off the ties and letting the rich waves of copper, scarlet, auburn, and occasional strand of grey, fall down across my shoulders.

Vivek said something again in Hindi, and his two buddies also stroked themselves through their janitor’s coveralls. My god. Each of them were almost twice as thick as my husband! I had been with a few white men before my husband, and he was about average. Unless Vivek and his friends were from special magical village of the endowed in India, then Hindu men were just really gifted. Bulls lording it over the lesser steers of the field.

“Touch them Jan, see if they think you are a beautiful woman. See what a Hindu man brings to a woman like you. Imagine what it would be like to be taken by a real man, not having to convince and beg for his attention like a chore, but taken as his property because you are a beautiful beast who needs to be owned and ridden like a fine white mare.”

I was stroking their cocks, one in each hand, and looking up at Vivek. His eyes made me want to please him, arouse him, challenge him, anything to make him turn that hunger on me, turn those hands on me, let me bask just for a second in the fire in those dark Hindu eyes.

“Stop pretending to be a soldier, get that tunic off and show us what you have been hiding. Show us what that husband of yours isn’t man enough to keep”

They were standing above me in the senior center parking lot, granted there was almost not traffic out here, but anyone could come by and see. Anyone could look outside the window and see. There was zero chance of me doing anything that career and marriage ending crazy. Yet my fingers were flying over the buttons, and so over willing to yank off the tunic that the waist draw string knot was too much for my trembling fingers. I snapped open the belt knife from my belt holster and cut the draw string clear, dropping the knife and tunic on the ground. Without a wondered, I reached back and undid the clasp of my bra.

My bra fell away, and I stood bare from the chest up, pale 48G breasts heaving, pink nipples as obviously erect as the bronze Hindu cocks all three men were now pulling out.

Vivek put his hand in my hair and pulled me to his balls. He rubbed his cock all over my face while I kissed his balls, lapping at them with my tongue and making little noises like an over willing puppy. Arjun, the older fat janitor walked down the stairs and began to feel my tits and ass as Vivek rubbed my nose in a superior Hindu cock, teaching me how to recognize what a real man’s cock looked like, after a lifetime of only knowing white men.

At last he let me capture his cock in my hands, and wrap my lips around it. His foreskin came down over his cock head, so hold in it like a precious flower, I took him in my mouth, letting my tongue work around the heavy plumb shaped head and trail around the crown of his kingly phallus.

I saw the contrast of my small white hands on his large Hindu cock, and the flash of my wedding ring reminded me that I was surrendering not only my body, but my marriage to Vivek. He pulled me by my hair off of his cock, and pulled me over to Alok, looking me in the eye.

“If you are a good girl, and show me how you look after my boys, Alok and Arjun, then I will take you like you need to be taken”

It was outrageous! I was a married woman! I wouldn’t let him whore me out just for the opportunity to feel his hard Hindu cock fill my empty white womb, feel those dark Hindu hands on my breasts…. Oh Arjun was not just playing with my breasts, now he was sucking on them. I came with a scream, shuddering and shaking. Without anything resembling wondered, I cupped Alok’s heavy balls in my hand and began kissing up and down his cock.

“Good girl Jan, you want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?” Vivek asked as he traded places with Arjun.

He stripped my pants down to my ankles, tore my panties off and threw them up to the deck. Stripping my web belt from my uniform trousers, Vivek took my hands and bound my writsts with the belt, then tied it to the railing.

Alok and Arjun took turns fucking my face, as my heavy breasts bounced against the railing.

Vivek’s hands roamed all over me. Cupping caressing. His lips were at my shoulders, on my breasts. His fingers probed the wetness of my sex, then he began to alternate pleasure and pain. Spanking my ass, then sliding fingers into my wetness, tracing around my clit, then smacking my ass hard three times, sucking my nipple until I almost cum, then biting it so I moan around the cock in my mouth.

Finally Vivek yanks back my hair, pulling me off the cock in my mouth, bending me back like a bow.

He lines up his hard Hindu cock, the head brushing my pussy. Feeling me thrusting backwards, trying to force him into me, but he pulls back just letting me feel the hot hard MASS of him.

“Beg me Jan. Beg me to be my mleccha whore. Beg me to be my slut, my whore, my slave, or I won’t let you have my cock. I will tell you to get dressed and never touch you again”

Alok and Arjun both had their cell phone camera’s out, filming Vivek’s spanking and training of me. Now they focused on my face to capture my decision. Was I a wife and mother, a soldier and teacher? Was I a respected white woman, or was I a desperate whore who would do anyone and anything Vivek told me, as long as he would touch me one more time?

“Please Vivek” I begged him “Please let me be your whore, your slut, your slave. I will do anyone you tell me to, do anything you tell me to, just please, please, please fill me with your hard Hindu cock!”

I would have said more, would have offered him everything I owned, anything at all, but his first thrust took my breath away. I wondered I was ready, but there is a difference between your hand working a soft vibrating dildo into you by hand, and a thick brutal cock stretching open your pussy. He pulled back, and I cried out in fear he was pulling out because my stupid white pussy was so disused that I was tight like a virgin. He was only pulling back to thrust deeper. I took longer for him to short thrust his way far enough into my pussy to really stroke than my husband had ever lasted.

Vivek had a hand on my throat, holding it, and I felt like helpless prey beneath the tiger. I felt owned. I came on his cock, and he bit my neck hard enough to leave a mark as he at last put his true power behind each thrust until his balls were slapping my pussy with every stroke.

He didn’t care if I was cumming, I was being taken by a Hindu bull, and if my pussy had never been fucked by a real man, it was time it was trained to do a woman’s true work at last. His strokes were like lightning through my body. I was screaming until Alok stuffed his cock back in my mouth to keep me quiet.

I needed to suck Alok’s cock to focus on something to stay sane. The pleasure was too much, I needed to be doing something to give back, so I sucked Alok’s cock like I was trying to pull his soul out of his body through it.

I wished my hands were free so I could caress and claw these strong Hindu gods, because the skinny kid just out of high college, the fat old man, were both revealed now to be Hindu demigods, and I wanted to worship them with all my might. Vivek, well Vivek was revealed as my one true god, and I would offer myself to him however he chose.

At last Vivek blasted my womb with his seed. He came so much, each thrust it felt like his cock grew bigger and each thrust pumped more into me. I came again, so violently I lost the cock from my mouth.

Vivek asked in a rough almost savage voice.

“Are you on the pill?”

My husband had a vascectomy. I didn’t like being on the pill because it gave me terrible headaches, so I had no birth control at all.

“No sir”. I told him, feeling the warmth fill my whole body at the wondered of his potent Hindu seed inside me.

“Good” Vivek said. “I own you now, and this pussy is for me only. You will have to work very hard to keep my boys happy with that smart mouth of yours, and that pretty white ass, because your pussy is for me only”

He began to work cum from my pussy into my asshole with his fingers, teasing, probing, feeling me push back against him, desperate to feel his fingers in my tight white married ass.

Alok and Arjun took turns fucking my ass. Alok was thinner but impatient, Arjun was thicker but patient. They made me cum as they filled my ass with more cock than I had had in decades. Hard Hindu cock reaching places my husband never could.

When Vivek freed my hands at last, he hugged me to him and I felt his great heart beat pounding slow and strong against the racing drum beat of my own. I felt I must look horrible, as a red head I get blotchy with blush when excited, my hair was a mass of sweat and cum from all three of them alternating between fucking my ass and mouth, or for Vivek, my pussy and mouth.

I dressed slowly as they laughing went back to putting the supplies away. I guess social distancing was over between myself and Vivek. Myself and Vivek’s entire crew. I was now his possession. I would be the tool they used to get rid of their stress, they would take out their fears and frustrations spanking my tits and ass, renew their energy by taking my soft white body as their rightful prize.

I was singing as I drove back to base. I hurt. My pussy felt like I had skipped being pregnant and tried to go straight to delivering, Vivek stretched me out so much. My poor ass made it clear I should go easy on fiber for a bit. My jaw ached from being used as a cum dumpster, my nipples and neck were a patchwork of hickeys, marks of ownership on their white property.

I felt my toned belly, and a mix of hope and fear arose in me. I was on no birth control, and Vivek did not wish me to be. My pussy was to be for him alone. Something told me my proud Hindu bull was as potent as he was proficient.

I waited for the fear to kick in. The fear of the loss of status, the recriminations, the racial bullshit that comes from having a mixed race child in the Bible Belt, which has a perfect one to one ratio of religion to racism. The fallout to my marriage, explaining I would bear the child of a man not my husband because Vivek chose to breed me like a farm animal.

I did not care.

Just let me please him.

Just let him take me again, and I would do anything, anything at all if it would only please him.

I guess my mask was off. This was the real me.

NSFW: yes


error: Content is protected due to Copyright law !