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“Come on hon.,” Billy begged me once again, “you know you’d love getting porked by some other men. Hell! With your reputation back in high school, I’d of thought you’d have jumped at a chance like this.”

So much for love, honor, and respect, I thought, as I lay on our bed dressed like a fashion whore from Frederick’s of Hollywood all in black: nylons, garter belt, and demy bra that matched my high heels. I guess openly masturbating in front of Billy with a rubber dildo that he’d bought for me wasn’t enough of a turn on for him any more. Now he wanted me to fuck other men so that he could watch, hear, and even smell it up close and personal while they were doing his wife.

They say that most married couples go through the seven-year itch, but we’d only been married for seven months when Billy started begging me to fuck other guys for his voyeuristic pleasure. Oh sure, I’d had a reputation as being easy back in Lincoln High, and to be truthful I’d enjoyed more than my share of guys, teachers included back then. In fact Billy had been the first guy that I’d ever turned down, and that was because I thought we were in love with each other, I know I was in love with him. Who knew that rich people were so kinky anyway?

“But I love you, Billy!” I replied at last, and for good measure I pulled the dildo out of my slit, and threw it at him still slick with my juices. Too bad I missed his head.

“Hey! I love you too, Jill. Why do you think that I’d want to see you pleasured properly, if I didn’t love you?”

“I thought you pleasured me well enough,” I said, and the pout was evident in my voice.

“Yeah, right. My dick isn’t even half as big as this dildo,” and he actually wagged the stupid rubber thing violently in the air in front of him.

“What is it with you men about size?” I fumed, and leaving the bathroom door open I sat down on the toilet, and peed in front of him. It never failed to get a rise out of him watching me pee, and now was no exception. “You don’t know what you’re asking me to do here, Billy.”

“I think I do,” he replied confidently, arms across his chest, the rubber dildo at parade rest in his embrace.

“Oh really?” I took a moment to dry myself to better reflect on what I was about to say, then as I stood, and flushed the toilet; “You’d become my cuckold husband, you know.”

“I know.”

“Yes, but do you know what that would entail?”

“Well yes, er… I think I do.”

“You think?” I almost shrieked, but strangled it in my throat in time. Then with a calmer voice; “Do you realize what people will think of you? Of me? If they find out? They’ll call me a whore, a slut, and every foul name they can think of, and they’d be right. But they’d think that you’re just a wimp, pimp, cuckolded dip shit, cause if I do this for you, that’s exactly what you will become.”

His face was already going flush, and the tent in his trousers told me more that moment than he could have in words. And so I continued, walking back and forth in front of him dressed like his fantasy hooker, exaggerating the action in my hips to further tease him. My breasts bouncing on my chest adding to the effect, I’m sure.

“As my cuckold husband, I’ll expect you to lick up the mess any of my lovers leave with your tongue. No matter where they leave their mess. In essence you’ll become our personal boy toy, maid, bartender, and all around cook, and bottle washer around here from now on. I may have you dress up as a sissy maid, and kiss my ass for hours at a time while calling me Mistress. Or my lovers might make you suck their cocks just before you guide them into me. And you’ll damn well do it, too!”

I think his reply to all of that was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me.

“Yes…, Mistress.”

I was pissed. More hurt than outraged, but even if he had started this; I was damn well going to make him think things over before committing myself. I’m human after all, and as such I’m a sexual a****l just like everyone else. But I had committed my life to this marriage, and if it was going to take a bizarre left turn then I was damn well going to make sure that our marriage could handle such a turn.

“Okay butthead,” I said sternly, giving him a downcast glare, “you can start by licking that rubber cock clean. It’s my lover tonight! You had your chance, and you can’t say that I didn’t warn you. Now get the fuck out of those clothes, and keep that prick in your mouth until I’m ready to use it. You’ll get no more pussy from me until you get sloppy seconds, thirds, or hundredths for that matter. And then only if my new lover allows you to have some, understand?”

“Yes Mistress!” And damned if he didn’t.

“Good! Tomorrow, you’ll go out and buy me a nice big black two headed rubber dildo so that I can fuck you in the ass when I want to from now on. Oh, and that’s after you fix breakfast in bed for me every day from now on.”

“Yes Mistress,” this time he swallowed hard, but he didn’t back down.

From that moment on, I became a real bitch as far as Billy, and our marital responsibilities were concerned. He never did get to fuck me in the ass, however I’ve butt fucked him every other night that we we’re home alone after that.

I let more than a couple months go by, refusing to accept the rejects that Billy came up with as suitable lovers for my grade “A” slice of heaven. When he confronted me with why I didn’t want to get it on with any of his buddies, I simply said:

“Because I want my first extramarital affair to be special, dip shit. You just keep hunting. I’ll let you know when you’ve hit the jackpot. Remember, you’re the one who wants me to fuck great big cocks, right?”

“Yes Mistress,” and if a man could look like a dog with his tail tucked between his legs, then that was my Billy as he wilted out of sight.

************

“Hey! What’s that?” I pointed to the computer screen in front of Billy, making him jump. It looked like an adult web site what with the sexy naked blond beauty on her knees sucking off a black man.

“Oh nothing!” He barely squeaked out, and reached to shut down the computer.

I stopped his hand, and shooed him out of his chair to take a better look. As it turned out it was an adult site, but a very specialized one. One where white husbands were willingly giving their young white wives over to older black men to fuck any way they wanted to.

“Hmmm. So is this what you really want, baby?” I murmured. “To watch a nasty old black man with a big black cock fucking your young wife’s little white pussy? Maybe even breeding her? Well? Is it?”

When he didn’t answer me I turned to look at him and found him standing with his legs crossed, face flushed, with a wet spot growing in his trousers. To be honest, I’d never been with a black guy before. But that was only because the opportunity had as yet not presented itself to me, that is until now. Billy was obviously enthralled with the idea, but his southern gentleman background wouldn’t allow him to admit it. If I hadn’t caught him looking at this web site, unaware of my presence the way I had, I’d have never known. So I turned back toward the computer screen.

“What’s your password?” I demanded.

He didn’t even try to deny that he was a member of the interracial web page, and showed me how to enter the site, and how to get around it once I was in. The more I looked around the more interested I became. This web site was dedicated to black men, and white wives cuckolding white husbands. There were fictional short stories, and true confessions by the members, and many of the latter were even illustrated. As it turned out, anyone could place their own advertisements on the site, and receive e-mail responses from those in their area that they were interested in. I could even add pictures of myself with the post if I wanted to, raunchy, or otherwise. Many of the black men, and white women in there hid their faces behind a mask, or simply didn’t show their faces. Others showed everything without hesitation. There was even a chat room to get acquainted in on this web site.

“Okay dip shit, you can leave,” I told Billy, “I need a little private time here with the computer before I decide on what to do next.”

I took a week before telling Billy my decision, but I was hooked the moment I found Jamul Abdul Washington’s illustrated advertisement. The ad was very simple, and read: “For the best in black, look no further.” And under those words was a picture of a black man, naked from the chest down, reclining in a chair as a masked white woman tried to swallow what looked like his foot long black mamba. I didn’t believe for a moment that the picture was anything other than a doctored up piece of fiction, but I figured that if nothing else the guy had to be huge compared to my Billy. But what really had my interest was that we lived in the same state, and according to his ad we were less than an hour apart from each other by car.

The ad gave his e-mail address, and his chat room name, “BBD” as well. I picked out a screen name for myself, typed in WSW for White Slut Wife, and entered the site’s chat room then. Strangely enough he happened to be online, and in the chat room at that very moment when I entered. I quickly discovered that BBD stood for Big Black Dick, and that Jamul had quite a wit, even if he used a somewhat basic crude gutter like mangling of the English language. His candor on the subject of interracial relationships had me sizzling in a continuous sexual meltdown right there in my own house. He sent me a real picture of himself, dressed this time, and I sent him a modest picture of myself. My panty liners were already floating around in my jeans, and by the time I went offline we had made a tentative date to meet each other socially in a neutral city between us sometime within the next two weeks.

For the next five days whenever I was home I was online either looking around that web site, reading, masturbating, or talking to Jamul, and in effect enjoying a great deal of cyber sex. We exchanged more pictures, I sent him one of me in a bikini, and he sent me one of him in a spandex swimsuit that made my mouth water, and my pussy drool. He didn’t have an ounce of extra body fat, and looked like one of those cute tight assed linebackers on the Dallas Cowboys football team. His smile was full of intelligence, and mischief both, and that swimsuit was packed full, bulging obscenely with what had to be tube socks, or I was in for one hell of a heart attack adventure. So when Jamul suggested that we meet that Friday at Shingles, a place we both knew about I agreed right on the spot.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Billy asked, as I got ready for my date with Jamul. “Meeting at Shingles I mean.”

“What’s wrong with Shingles?” I inquired attaching my smoky black nylons to the garter snaps of my black satin garter belt.

“Well for one thing it’s the cocktail lounge of a hotel.”

“And what better way to get to know my new lover?”

“But if he gets a hotel room then I won’t get to see anything,” Billy grouched under his breath.

“Maybe,” I replied, “but your imagination will run wild just thinking about what we’re up to, won’t it? And if you don’t make a big deal out of this, I’ll have him give you a call while we’re doing it.”

That shut him up in a hurry, and I knew Billy would be jerking off the moment I stepped out of the house. To make things worse I decided on wearing the short black silk backless dress, and no bra, or panties underneath. By the time I stepped out the front door smelling like a whole bottle of Chanel for my date with Jamul, Billy had a wet spot growing in his trousers again.

It wasn’t until I was alone, in the sanctity of my car with the engine purring that I was hit with a sudden rush of stage fright. After all, I was about to take a giant leap for all womankind, and what if Jamul was disappointed in the real me? What if, after meeting me, he decided that I wasn’t everything I’d advertised? What if he wasn’t everything that he’d advertised? What if, he took one look at me, and skipped out on our date? I put the Caddy in gear, and backed out of the driveway still shivering. What if Billy couldn’t take being cuckolded? So far everything had just been practice. What if he couldn’t handle the real event? Our marriage would go up in flames. And was it worth saving if we were going to live this way from now on anyway? The car found its way to Shingles in spite of me, and I ended up sitting out in the parking lot for fifteen minutes before I got up the courage to go inside to tell Jamul that this was all a big mistake.

Unfortunately, I had arrived an hour early for our date. The band was just setting up when I entered, so I took a seat at the nearly empty bar, and ordered a tall rum and coke to settle my nerves. That first drink went down faster than I wanted, so I ordered another, then another still when the bartender pointed to the gentleman who had paid for it. By then I was no longer nervous, and good thing because the gentleman was Jamul, and he was sitting in a booth with a big charming, and yet, shit eating grin on his face. He looked different somehow, and as I walked over to join him it hit me. He had shaved his head as bald as I’d shaved my mons. I also noticed that his nose didn’t looked as flat in person as it did in the pictures he’d sent me. But most of all the man looked extremely handsome, as if chiseled out of pure onyx.

“So what do you think?” He asked standing up to greet me.

Now in high heels I stand close to five and a half feet tall, and he towered over me like a mountain of granite dressed in a suit of forest green. This man could have bent me in two without breaking a sweat, but his gentle demeanor, and perfect manners as he helped me into the booth before sitting down again put me right at ease.

“I think,” I said at last, “that you have underestimated yourself.”

“As have you,” and we both laughed at the absurdity, but thankfully it released the tension that had been building inside of me since I’d woken up this morning. “You’re even lovelier in person.”

“You are too kind,” I replied, and sipped at my drink, only slower this time.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the liberty of ordering some appetizers. Just some shrimp cocktails. I thought if you didn’t mind we could eat right here, and get to know each other. Then maybe dance a little when the band starts up, and get to know each other a little closer, and so on.”

“Sounds good so far,” I said, still refusing to commit myself completely, but not ready to head home as yet either.

“Great!” He replied, “Now while we’re waiting for the appetizers why don’t you tell me a little about yourself.”

“Well, as I told you online, I’m married…”

We talked endlessly for the next hour. Each of us revealing what we wanted to the other, and probably more than was needed. I knew by the time the shrimp cocktail arrived that we were going to end up in bed together, if not tonight, then some time soon. We didn’t actually get around to talking about sex until just before the band started up. And then only about what had led us up to this moment.

Jamul had been on many other online dates before, but mostly out of state as his job then had kept him on the red eye flights for years. Then earlier this year he’d been promoted, and made vice president in charge of sales for his company, and that put him in a 9 to 5 situation behind a desk. It also pretty much put his love life on hold as well. In fact I was his first real contact date this year, as he was looking for someone steady to be with, and not just one of those one night stands of yore. He preferred married white women, to single white women. Where the husband was affable if not down right giving her away, and after our talks together online thought that I’d be the ideal partner to start a long time adulterous affair with. His grasp of the English language, and his vocabulary in person was so immense that it surprised me at first. And I commented on it.

“Oh that,” and he chuckled, “ that’s just online Nigger talk is all. We use it like any tool on that site. People, white people mostly, expect to hear that shit so we give it to them. Makes it a little more dirty fo’ you white folk, and that’s what sex is all about anyway, right?”

He had me nodding my head in agreement from that point on. I was so wrapped up in his voice, and his hypnotic eyes that I soon found myself sitting back into the cushion of our booth with his hand up my skirt, and already above my nylons before I was aware of it. He immediately took notice that I was again aware of his every move, and stopped short of actually touching my weeping hairless slit.

“Care to dance?” He asked, and I realized that the band was playing.

“Okay,” I replied, and I could barely get my voice above a whisper knowing full well that I was bare assed under the short hemmed dress that I had on, and wondering why I’d been that foolish as I followed him out to the dance floor feeling the caress of cool air-conditioning between my hot moist thighs.

The band had just finished playing a fast number when we reached the crowded hardwood floor, and skipped several beats before starting up a slow number. My body trembled the moment we came together, and I felt his iron hard muscles through our clothing.

The band was playing an old Marvin Gaye tune about San Francisco, and I simply melted into Jamul as his hands took hold of my rump as if we had been lovers, or married for years. Instantly I was aware of what had to be the mother load of all bulges pressing up against my stomach. The good news was that my body no longer trembled, the bad news was that my knees had turned to liquid, and I couldn’t have stood let alone danced if Jamul wasn’t holding me up tight against his hard black body. I was immediately aware that the bottom of my dress had ridden up enough to show the bottoms of my white ass cheeks to anyone who happened to be looking. And that’s when I suddenly felt like such a dirty little slut.

Of their own volition my hands grabbed onto Jamul’s tight butt as I rubbed myself up against that great bulge trying to gather my feet under me. I could feel his black hands through my thin dress caressing my buttocks with a sense of ownership that Billy had never shown. A quick look around showed no one taking any real interest in our little show, but thankfully that was probably due to the mostly couples clientele of Shingles more than anything else. Still, it wasn’t until I felt his hands on my bare ass that my pussy took over my thought process. I casually grabbed a hold of that bulge, and found out that there were no tube socks behind that zipper. This man indeed didn’t bullshit about the Grande. And I just knew then that if we kept on going the way we were that I had no intention of going home to give Billy a show before finding out if I could actually take Jamul’s whale dick without being torn in half.

“I have a room here,” he whispered in my ear halfway through the second slow dance.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “you’re bigger… I mean…”

“We can do anything, or nothing up there. I’ll leave it up to you. I can call room service for drinks, and we can just talk and get drunk, play doctor, or just visit if you like.”

“Okay,” I managed to squeak out, and he took a firm hold of my left hand, and led me off of the dance floor, and over to our booth to collect my purse.

We stopped at the front desk, and Jamul ordered fresh drinks to be brought up to his room then we headed for his room. There was nobody in the elevator with us on the ride up, but when the door opened to let us out there was an elderly couple waiting to take the ride down. The woman gave me a wrinkled wink, and the old geezzer with her “tsk, tsked” in distaste twice as we passed giving my pussy a rush that simpered down along my left inner thigh. Of course we giggled all the way down the hall to his room, but I felt four old eyes on my back as Jamul’s black hand possessively took hold of my white ass all the way to room 924.
“You’ve never been with a Nig… er… that is black man, have you?” Jamul’s question coming out more like a statement after closing the door behind me helped ease away some of my anxiety.

“Never had the opportunity,” I replied. “All the guys in my high school were white. And Billy proposed to me before I could go off to college.”

“And Billy, what about him? You told me online that this was all his idea. Is that true?”

“Well, not entirely all of his idea. He said that he wanted to watch me getting screwed by other men. I assumed he meant other white men. That is until I found him online at the web site you and I met at. From that point I took over.”

“Curiosity?” He inquired, and that’s when there was a knocking at the door by room service, the drinks had arrived.

He paid for the drinks, and that gave me the time I needed to make my decision.

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes?” He asked putting down the tray, then holding out my drink.

“To your question,” I giggled, taking my drink, and gulping half of it straight down. “It was curiosity that made me contact you. Curiosity that made me agree to this date. And it’s still curiosity that’s got me wondering what that bulge of yours really looks like out in the open, and in person.

“You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine?” He inquired, and I knew that this was in the form of a question this time.

“Okay,” I said. Then I took a moment to set my drink down as he hung up his suit coat, and untied his tie.

Once he was settled on the edge at the foot of his bed, sitting up, and facing me, I simply reached down, and lifted the hem of my dress. His eyes didn’t bulge out of their sockets, but his gaze was the most intense I’d ever felt as he looked at my bare, bald pussy from less than three feet away, and let out a low rumbling wolf whistle.

“Damn baby!” His voice was filled with respect, and adoration, but hardly raised above a whisper. “That’s what I call eaten pussy.”

“I’ve heard it called that before,” I giggled, and not bothering to lower the hem of my dress added; “now your turn.”

Jamul wasted no time getting out of his shirt, and pants shucking his shoes in the process. When he was down to his silk black boxers I was already panting. Then turning away he lowered his shorts letting them puddle to the floor before turning to give me more than an eye full of his equipment. I stared open mouthed, and I’m sure I had the stupidest expression on my face as drool formed around my lips at the sight of his onyx monolith. And it was only at half-mast at that.

“You… you’ve got… to be k**ding!” I stammered. “That belongs on a horse, not a human!”

In retrospect I suppose it was just the shock of seeing my first uncircumcised penis that made it look so huge, but the damn thing was bigger than any cock I’d ever seen in my life, and lived up to the legend, and then some. Not quite as long as my forearm, or as thick as my wrist by any stretch of the imagination, but it was damn near three times bigger than Billy’s noodle, and twice the cock of most men I’d ever known.

“Damn! What do you need me, or any woman for that matter? It looks big enough for you to suck on all by yourself.”
“I’m not gay,” and he chuckled at his own joke. “Besides, I like women, remember? Wanna touch it?”

“I don’t know Jamul,” but I reached out anyway, and in so doing let go of the hem of my dress so that it fell back into place. It felt soft, like crushed velvet, and though not hard, it was getting stiff, and very heavy like a whole bunch of bananas clustered together to make one.

“Go ahead, play with it, jerk me off if you like,” he suggested.

It was so weird the way his foreskin reacted when I pulled down along the length of his shaft as if I were peeling it away from the deep purple/black headed treasure knob underneath. My eyes already wide as I held him went wider still, I’m sure. My face drew closer, and closer with each passing second. It was as if I held the entire night in my two hands, and all of the stars had winked out of sight displacing time and space forever.

My tongue came out, and I took a swipe at the uncovered head to taste it, then pulled back sharply after realizing what I had just done. All of my sensibilities exploding into nova dots that flashed before my eyes. And suddenly I had the whole head of his cock in my mouth, and headed half way down my throat before I realized that I was down on my knees sucking lustily on a mere total stranger’s big black prick.

I had to use both of my hands around the shaft as I sucked on it to keep from gagging, but by then Jamul had lifted me up, and turned me inverted so that I was squatting over his face. Just the touch of his tongue rasping against my clit set off another explosion, this time multiple mini orgasms that shorted out every grating nerve ending in my body. I could hardly scream **** now what with his cock in my mouth, and his tongue drilling up my sweltering slit, now could I? Nor was I inclined to at that moment. But just the same I felt like the married white slut Billy had wanted me to turn into right then. And the feeling just kept growing deep inside of me as I followed Jamul’s lead, and stuck my tongue up his black ass, and screamed through the tidal wave of convulsions that overwhelmed me right then. Making me mash my pussy down hard on Jamul’s face for all I was worth, and wriggling my butt like a real bitch in heat.

I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember is I was flat on my back looking up at Jamul’s soiled face, and feeling as though I’d skydived cunt first onto a telephone pole.

“Oh GOD! NO MORE!” I cried out.

“Easy baby, it’s all in you now,” Jamul’s voice like a soothing balm on a boil about to pop. “Just relax, I know you feel stretched out, but babies come out of there, and I ain’t no where near that big.”

He was right of course, but it still felt like two somebody’s had shoved their hands up my pussy, and were trying to applaud while in there. However Jamul gave me plenty of time to let my body get accustomed to that awesome girth, and length of his by just laying still over top of me resting his weight on his arms for good measure. A patient lover, and one only concerned with their partner’s pleasure first always gets their way. And soon my pussy began to lubricate again as it got over the shock of being stretched out to the size of Lake Erie.

I was already perspiring profusely, my flesh a sheen of salty meltdown when Jamul eased back out of me slightly, then eased all the way back in.

“Easy stud,” I joked, “you ain’t out in the field with one of the brood mares now.”

“I’m in no rush,” and his dazzling toothy smile amongst a sea of black was a reassurance that helped me to relax even more.

My cunt was so packed full of his cock that it was making little pussy fart noises, and I’m sure I blushed every time I heard them. But it gave me the time to realize the stark contrast in coloring that the two of us most surely would represent to anyone looking on when we copulated, and I got an instant thrill rushing through me realizing that I was indeed going to fuck Jamul in front of my husband Billy in the very near future. And I began to heave my hips up to meet every downward thrust of Jamul’s then. My arms and legs snaking around my black lover like new white nylon ropes on a boat. In effect hauling him into me harder with each thrust so that I could feel the entire length of that onyx monolith skewering into me. My finger nails raking his back each time his teeth bit at one of my nipples through my thin dress causing me to explode into the next dementia of orgasms.

We fucked for hours, and hours upon eternity’s pouting lips with me orgasming every five minutes or so, and Jamul only cuming twice before dawn sprinkled day light into his room once in my pussy, and once, (I hardly believe it myself.), in my ass. Yes, he took me in the ass that very first night, just so that I could go home and tell Billy that a strange black man had fucked me in every hole that I own. Did it hurt? Don’t be silly, of course it hurt. Try sticking an eggplant up YOUR butt with a little KY, and see how it feels. Funny thing is though, I’ve never felt so completely lude, crude, raunchy and downright filthy as I did when I had that big black cock of his up my tight white ass, and that too is the truth. And it’s probably also why I climaxed so hard when he did it.

We couldn’t take our hands off of each other after that. And when I said I had to go home Jamul insisted on going with me, even knowing that we would probably end up in my marriage bed performing for my husband’s amusement. So that when we walked in the door I looked like hell burnt over, I’m sure, as I’d never bothered to take off my dress the whole time. The right strap on my dress had torn sometime during one of our tussles, and my nylons had so many runs in them that they looked like wolves had attacked me. And my hair had that wind tunnel look it was so disheveled.

“Are you oka…” Billy’s voice trailed off as Jamul followed me inside closing the door behind him as he did to keep prying eyes away, if that were possible.

“You must be Billy,” Jamul said putting out his bear claw like hand, and swallowing Billy’s in the process. My husband was actually shaking in his slippers as he stood there in his pajama bottoms, mouth gaped open, eyes wide, and about to piss all over himself.

“Uh… er… yes… I am,” was all he could stutter in reply.

“I’m Jamul. Your wife’s new Nigger lover? We thought we’d drop by and give you a little show. You know, sort of a thank you for turning this sweet tight white ass of hers over to me in the first place.” And for emphasis Jamul cupped my ass in his left hand insinuating his middle finger up my slit from behind in the process. “Is it true what she tells me? That this was all your idea?”

“Um, well, yeah, but…,” Billy was so beside himself it looked like he was about to faint.

“Well I for one am glad to meet the luckiest bastard in the world,” Jamul was almost cooing like a pigeon as he laid it on thick for my husband. “I guess you can go get into your sissy maid’s costume now while we go use the shower. I’ll have bacon and eggs for breakfast, with orange juice on the side.”

“I’ll have the same,” I said flatly, and showed Jamul the way to the bathroom leaving Billy standing awestruck there in our front room watching Jamul’s black hand fondle my naked white ass possessively until we were out of sight. I’m sure our laughter followed him all the way to our bedroom as he went to change, and prepare our breakfast.

“So, how’d I do?” Jamul asked once we were in the privacy of the bathroom.

“You nearly made him piss all over himself,” which is when we started laughing.

“Hey, he wanted this, remember? Might as well give him the royal fantasy, right?”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, and shedding my clothes turned on the shower, naked for the first time if front of my black lover.

“Damn baby! If you’d of been my wife I’d have hid you in a tower, locked you in a chastity suit, and laid land mines to boot.”
“If that’s your way of saying that you like what you see, then I’ll accept that as a compliment.”

“It’s all of that,” he chuckled, then joined me in the shower, “you ain’t nothing but fine all over!” And for the first time since we’d met our bodies came together totally naked, and we kissed for the very first time.

His thicker lips felt as if they could have swallowed my face whole in their billowy embrace, and his talented tongue tickled the roof of my mouth like butterfly wings driving me insane with unfettered sensual heat all over. My hands going to that great truncheon like battering ram of his, as his hands alternated back and forth from fondling my ass, to playing with my breasts, tweaking my nipples.

Now that I knew for certain that I could take him in every hole that I owned I wanted him like I never had wanted any other man in my life. But to be fair to Billy we mostly just teased each other as we washed each other there in the shower. Jamul even shampooing my long hair for me, while I held his cock between my thighs, and felt it throb wildly against my seething slit from behind was a delightfully raunchy experience that I thoroughly suggest trying at least once for any married white wife turned slut. And oh yes, by then I considered myself no better than the perfect married white slut in Jamul’s black hands.

By the time we entered the adjoining bedroom Billy was gone, and the smell of bacon on a skittle frying permeated the house. But neither Jamul, nor I were hungry for anything other than each other by then, and he lifted me straight up, and carried me over to my marriage bed. Then laid me down gently before trailing his lips down along my body all the way to my curled up toes. When he returned northward, I spread my legs wide in open greeting, and held his shaved head tightly to the opening of my womb as his tongue once again entered my sanctuary, and tasted of my drooling lower lips. No man I’d ever been with had ever eaten my pussy with such simpatico as Jamul, and I was soon writhing, wriggling my hips, and shaking my ass in his face as my whole body swooned in the gathering storm of pre-coital orgasmic bliss.

As before in his hotel room he entered me with a total concern for my well being, and my pleasure. However, now that I had been stretched out to accommodate his massive manhood earlier, the going went much smoother this time. To the point where I was actually begging him:

“Oh yeah, ram it all the way in,” I sighed, my arms and legs wrapping around him again to help pull him into me.

The feeling of yet again having a long freight train entering my tunnel of lust had me panting like the bitch in heat I’d become with Jamul’s big black cock. Forgotten were my words to Billy that size didn’t really matter. With an experienced compassionate lover like Jamul his size was an added blockbuster bonus that no lottery prize could ever match. And it was at that point, as I realized that we had company, that I knew what the words; “Nigger Lover,” really meant, even if the “N” word left a brackish taste in my mouth. Because I could see the look on Billy’s face as he stood in the doorway in his sissy maid’s costume staring in at his white wife as a black man’s big black cock stretched out my pussy like his never would. It wasn’t that Jamul’s dick overwhelmed me so much as it consumed me with a fiery passion, a wanton lust the likes of which, well, I’d never known existed in me before.

All of those stories that I’d read on that interracial site, and thought how completely ridiculous they had seemed all came flooding down along the full length of my fuck funnel now. And seeing Billy put down our tray of food before he started jerking off under his petty coats made it all the more real to me. Billy really did look quite feminine, and pretty in that French Maid’s outfit. All he needed was some boobs, and a pussy, some makeup, and longer hair, but otherwise he could have passed for a woman if you didn’t know better.

“We’ve got company,” I finally whispered, and nodded towards my husband.

“Isn’t she cute,” Jamul stated loud enough for Billy to hear. Then louder added; “Hey faggot, come on over here, I want you to put that tongue of yours where it will do the most good.”

I could only barely believe it when Billy did Jamul’s bidding without hesitating. The feel of my husband’s tongue, and lips at our connection spiraled me into the next universe, then off into the next dimension. There was no doubt in my mind that he was doing the same thing to Jamul’s cock as it sawed in and out of my honey dew like a ragging bull out of control. And knowing that my husbands face was plastered to Jamul’s black ass as I was being fucked tickled me like nothing else could have at that moment. I actually couldn’t wait to see what Billy thought of me taking that huge black cock up my ass, but then there was plenty of time for that. After all, we had the rest of the weekend to degrade Billy, and put him where he belonged from now on, down on his hands and knees serving us.

I came even harder, if you can believe that, with Billy participating, and quickly turned into the true hard nosed wanton slut that my husband had begged for. In fact I no longer thought of him as anything more than my maid servant from that moment on. And I vowed to have him get breast implants, and a full feminine make over at his own expense as soon as possible.

“Can I gather that you’ve never been gang banged either?” Jamul asked then interrupting my train of thought.

“No, not really,” I replied.

“Want to be?”

It was refreshing to be asked first what I wanted, and I was thankful that Jamul had been my first visit to the world of intimate interracial relationships. His gentle giant demeanor, educated tongue, and fascinating manhood was exactly the thing I needed to become what my husband had lusted after. And what I had only dared to dream of before now. So that when I finally did answer his question it was with all of my heart.

“Yes, I’d love to try that. As long as Billy can watch and cleanup, of course.”

“Of course,” and he actually giggled right along with me.