6:30 am: The alarm on my cell phone began a soft buzz and the ambient blue light filled the small space next to my bed. As I shook off the night’s sleep, it occurred to me that it was Sunday.
I glance out the small attic window above my bed to see the sun peeking above the trees, another warm day ahead and I plan a big breakfast to prepare as I pull the sheets back and sit up on the edge of the bed to grab a drink of water.
Wearing nothing but my cage, I started down the narrow stairs from the attic, avoiding the squeaky steps to not wake my wife, Stephanie, and our darling bull, Michael. They are two of the sexiest people I have ever had the honor to have in my life.
My wife is a gym rat by nature, a beautiful flower girl type with natural female grooming and well-muscled. Their naked bodies are exposed on the bed in a tangle as a box fan cools their sleeping bodies on our king-size bed.
We are pansexual and naturalist, liberal by nature and pagan by religion. We all live in a classic 1930s two-story tutor home ten miles north of Indianapolis.
'First things first,' I say to myself as I enter the dark kitchen. I broke out two glasses of orange juice and started the coffee maker. 'They should be waking up in about an hour,' I thought, and orange juice was pretty much the weekend procedure.
Just as the eggs start to cook, my oldest, Kimberly and her very beta boyfriend Derek entered the kitchen only wearing flip-flops.
“What time are you guys leaving?” she asks as she opens the refrigerator.
Without looking at her, “I’m thinking around noon; that's if your aunt and her stud can get their shit together in a timely fashion. Why?”
Kimberly, a beautiful, athletic mulatto girl with caramel skin, blue eyes, and a tight brown curl that always hangs in her face. “That’s cool, we’re planning on leaving around noon and we still have to get gas,” she says as she sips from the bottle of Sunny Delight, “Do you think there’s going to be a lot of hot guys there?"
“There’s a lot of other things to do at these festivals,” I said. “Your mother and I went years ago and met the most amazing people.”
Derek, standing on the other side of the breakfast buffet, says, “I was watching the festival on You Tube and there are hot chicks everywhere, damn.”
Kim turned to him with a scowl. “Watch it.”
“Sorry,” Derek continues, “Anyways, the RV area isn’t too far from the town center, so we can all stay close once we get there. The stall we have is at the four corners, near the toilets...”
Kimberly cuts in, “Yeah, whatever he said,” taking a last swig of juice before throwing it back into the fridge she walks past Derek, “Let’s go.” The skinny white boi looks up at me and flashes a crooked smile before turning on his heels to follow Kimberly.
“Hey, breakfast is going to be ready soon, so don’t go too far,” I said as I poured the last of the scrambled eggs into a chafing dish. I was beginning to think that maybe taking the whole tribe to Beltane wasn’t such a hot idea.
After about 30 minutes, everything was placed in the warmer. I put together two pieces of toast with strawberry jam on a small dish with butter and started my journey back upstairs.
At the landing, I could hear the faint sounds of lovemaking at the end of the hall.
As I turned on the landing and started down the hallway, my sixteen-year-old, Madeline stuck her head out of her bedroom, “Is breakfast ready?”
“Yes,” I responded in a whisper, “Go downstairs, breakfast is ready,” Maddie glanced at me and then at the ambient bed squeaking noise at the end of the hallway, “When are they going to be done?”
“You know when,” I shot back, “Now go downstairs, it’s getting cold.”
“Okay,” she said and tiptoed down the hallway in her long T-shirt, trying to be respectful of her mother’s morning delight. I shook my head and continue my creep to the door at the end of the hall.
I put my ear to the jamb and listened for a pause in their sex so as not to disturb Michael’s rhythm. I listened until I heard what sounded like a position change and slowly turn the glass knob of the master bedroom.
The room was decorated with mostly hand-me-down bedroom furnishings and a large, center bedroom rug. The bed was a large king with a wrought iron frame with two black straps hanging on the side of the upper bed railing, rocking back and forth with the rhythm of rutting bodies.
I took a few steps into the dark room and stood watching with the breakfast toast in hand. My wife was underneath and almost consumed by our African King. Michael is a massive hulking, black man with muscles on top of muscles. Only her two hands holding onto his protruding deltoid muscles and her clenched feet wrapped around his waist were visible.
Michael's buttocks clenched with each push into my life partner's body while the scent of their body odor filled the room. Just as I was about to take another step, my wife caught my eye and put up her open palm, giving the HALT signal.
I froze. Once I realized why I retraced my steps and assumed my submissive position in front of the bedroom door. Michael hadn’t noticed me and increased his pace in and out of Steph. His breathing became rapid and I could see the large scrotum had drawn up into a tight ball between his massive thighs.
My wife held his head in her hands and looked into his eyes. She could feel his body getting close. Stephanie nodded to him and pulled him to her breasts. The bull growled deeply; his pace was unstoppable and the sounds of their body slapping and the bed frame slamming filled the house.
Without warning, his body stopped, reared up, and pushed deep into my wife. Our African king let out a tremendous, “Aaaahhhhh,“ as each of his buttock's muscles flexed with every pulse of his ejaculation.
One, then another, and another as his bulbous muscle, protruding and full, was working its magic, pumping and filling my wife’s womb. She held him tight to her breasts. The sweat of their bodies together created a beautiful sheen on both of their muscular frames.