“Sure?” she enquired.
She said this into my mouth as we kissed. My cock jerked in my jeans.
“I was with Joel only half an hour ago.”
“I can smell his aftershave,” I muttered.
The combined smells emanating from her were heady and erotic and driving me crazy with lust for her.
“And I can smell your sex. You smell fucking gorgeous,” I mouthed into her wet and open lips. “I want you as you are, right now, in our bed.”
I began to steer her towards our stairs and picked up her handbag as she led the way. On the way up I casually pulled one of her stockings from her handbag and held it to my nose and mouth and inhaled deeply. I could smell the mix of nylon, perfume and the instantly recognisable odour of her bubble bath from the night before. My cock was almost at bursting point.
Had he smelt her numerous aromas, as I was now doing? Had he appreciated the effort to which she had gone in preparing herself for her date with him? I couldn’t wait to find out.
I watched her shapely ass and legs as she climbed the stairs ahead of me, my heart and groin full of lust, jealousy and desire as Alison opened the door to our bedroom.
She turned her head and looked at me. “Okay, darling?” she smiled. “How do you want me?”
“Please sit on the bed,” I whispered.
She perched on the corner and I slid on beside her, to her right. I nuzzled in to her bare neck and again the smell of her faded perfume hit me like a ton of bricks. I remembered our conversation of last night when she chose it, deliberately choosing my favourite scent to wear for a date with someone other than her husband.
I continued to lick her neck and soft shoulder as my right hand crept around and stroked her warm breast through her dress, the dress that I had helped her select. I felt her nipple harden at my touch and she leaned further into me.
“Did you have a nice evening?” I whispered in her ear.
“Yes, I did actually. I was very nervous to begin with but not nearly as nervous as Joel. I don’t think he could believe that I had actually turned up and spent the first twenty minutes repeating himself about how lovely I looked and how lucky he was to be out with me.”
“Lucky indeed,” I whispered. “Out with another man’s gorgeous wife. My gorgeous wife.”
“I felt pretty awkward to begin with honey, but I soon began to relax and enjoy myself.”
“Where did you go?” I continued.
“To a little country pub about twenty minutes from here,” she replied. We had a couple of drinks, just to break the ice I guess and once we got talking we both relaxed and began to enjoy each other’s company. I had spoken to Joel of course at work, but now we were able to chat freely about our lives and why we were there, together.”
“What did you tell him? I mean your reason for being there with him. Married, and out with a young black man?”
“Well he kind of already knew of course as he had asked me out weeks ago, remember. He knew of the conversations I had had with the girls at work and so he knew that I was prepared for a date with him that would most likely result in sex. He isn’t as shy as he makes out and after his initial nervousness he was actually quite in control of the evening.”
“How did you feel about that though?”
“It felt quite sexy actually.”
“Yes. Being out with a handsome black guy, twenty years younger than you can do wonders for a woman’s confidence you know,” she purred, stroking my thigh at the same time. “I knew that lots of people were clearly wondering about us, you know, as a couple; me being older than him; he being black and me white; me with a wedding ring on and him without.”
I mentally pictured the scene in the quiet country pub perhaps only ten miles from our home. What if she had met someone we knew? What if she was recognised, without her seeing someone we knew and they shared that they had seen her with a friend, or family? Then what?
My cock ached at the thought of her openly dating a black guy in our close neighbourhood.
“I could tell that he was excited about being with me too,” she continued. "He had a look and a manner about him that just made it so easy to get comfortable. He continually touched my hands and arms, constantly praised how I looked and how “hot” I was for a woman in her early fifties. I think you were right when you told me way back that a young black guy would feel like he’d dropped the jackpot, he really made me think that was how he was feeling. It excited me to feel so wanted and “hot” as he put it, to a younger man.”
“Do I not make you feel that way?” I tentatively ventured, my ego bruised and my stomach churning to hear the answer.
“I guess it’s different, honey. It just felt different, being taken out by a younger guy, a guy who obviously desired me very strongly and who was new to me, fresh to me and of course, very black.”
As she was saying this her hand had moved up to my straining cock. She stroked her hand over me, pressing and squeezing my erection. She turned her head to mine and pressed her lips against my mouth. I was gasping, my heart thumping in my chest. I was so turned on, and she knew it.
“Is hubby just a teeny bit jealous huh? Did his naughty wife go out and leave him all frustrated whilst she was out with a young stud? Did poor hubby spend the night with a hard on, trying to work out where I was and what I was doing?”
She continued to rub my cock through my jeans and I was fighting to not come. Her lips and tongue in mine as she continued to breath the words into me.
“Did his mind fill with regret and anger, angst and desire at what she was doing? Was his sweet, private and faithful little wife out on a date with a handsome black man?”
I could barely utter a sound and a groan emanated from somewhere deep in my constricted throat. “Yessssss,” I hissed.
“And you want to know what we did and what I felt, don’t you darling. After all, this was all your idea and fantasy from the beginning wasn’t it?”
“Oh god, yesss,” I managed to groan at her.
“Why don’t you get undressed and I will tell you all about it. Would you like that?” she teased.
Like an obedient little puppy, I stood up and ripped off my shirt and jeans. Boxer shorts and socks quickly followed. I stood before her, my erection painful and sore as she lay back on the bed.
Her eyes were half closed and she drew her knees up slightly and I could see under her dress all the way to her smooth mound and the narrow strip of pubes she liked to retain. The mound I had helped her prepare just over twelve hours ago.
I remembered that she had said her knickers were in her handbag. She had never even bothered to put them back on to come home. That thought alone had my cock twitching and dripping pre-cum.
I lay down beside her and we kissed. Deep, loving kisses between a husband and wife. Lovers’ kisses; the sole domain of a couple devoted to each other over many years and the kind of kisses reserved only for each other.
“Joel is a great kisser,” she mumbled into my mouth. Her hot breath and the words, designed and perfectly timed to humiliate and torment me, worked their magic. I groaned loudly back at her.
“I don’t really like French tongue kissing as you know, but Joel insisted I do it to him and eventually I began to enjoy the feeling of his lips and tongue devouring my mouth. He seemed to like it when I tongued all around the inside of his mouth too.” I shuddered at the thought of her doing this for him and not for me. I was angry, jealous and fevered with lust at her doing so - for him.
Alison leaned over and took my cock in her left hand and stroked me gently from base to tip. She leaned into her bedside drawer and brought out the bottle of lubrication we liked to use and poured some into her hand. Its coolness excited me further and she began a slow wank of my bursting erection.
“You seem very excited. You weren’t like this when I went out last night. What’s happened to you?”
“It’s you. You have changed. You are like some deliciously hot, sexy temptress who knows just how to push my buttons,” I meekly replied. “You seem to be taking pleasure from my discomfort and are enjoying the torment I am going through. What’s happened to you
“But, honey, you are taking enjoyment out of what I have done. You are harder than I have ever felt you, I think. Your fantasy has become a reality and rather than dampen the flame, it seems that you have stoked a greater fire than either of us thought probable.”
All the time, she stroked my lubricated and dripping erection and I couldn’t argue with what she said. I was in love with her, in lust with her, in anger at, and humiliated by her and I wanted, no needed to know more.
“Did he fuck you?” I groaned, close to coming in her hand.
“Do you want him to have fucked me?” she asked. More torment.
“Yessss,” I groaned again.
“Well, my horny little husband, after he had made love to me for two wonderful hours, he eventually fucked me, yes. Take off my dress.”
“Jesus, Alison.” I knelt over her and helped her to remove her dress. As her lingerie, or what remained of it, her bra; came into view, I recalled her putting it on in very different circumstances last night. She leaned forward and I unhooked it at the rear and her wonderful tits spilled out. I groaned again.
“Joel just loved these,” she teased, cupping them towards me. “He loved it when I was on top of him and I dangled them into his mouth. It looked so good when he stood behind me and held them in his big black hands and we watched ourselves in his full length mirror. You would have loved to have seen them, encased in black.”
“Fuck, oh fuck, baby, I wish I had seen you.”
“Would you like to?”
“What, how?” I stammered.
“Get my phone from my handbag,” she instructed.
I reached over to where I had place her bag at the side of the bed, nearest me. I took out her stocking s and her panties. I held them for a moment and stared at the beautiful silk and lace which had contained her pussy during the evening, in his company. I could feel they were damp. Still. Hours later. Fuck, she must have been incredibly turned on.
I dropped the panties on the carpet and retrieved her phone from the bag and handed it to her. “Come and lay down and let me show you something,” she beckoned.
I knelt on the bed and then lay down beside her. “Here they are,” she beamed and turned to face me. She wrapped her fingers around my cock again and turned the phone towards me.
“Holy fuck, Alison.” On the screen was a photo, taken into a mirror. My wife was in her lingerie, stockings and heels, legs spread slightly apart. Her head was partly turned into the chest of the man standing behind her. Her eyes gazed upwards to his face and she was smiling at him.
A tall black man had his left arm around her waist, his fingers spread just above the waistband of her beautiful panties. His other hand cupped her right breast. He smiled into the mirror. Smiling at me? It was the most erotic thing I had ever seen.
Alison slid the phone’s screen along and another photo filled the screen. He now had both her tits in his large black hands, and they were kissing. Their mouths locked in a passionate mesh of lips and tongues, their eyes closed, savouring the illicit moment of each others’ bodies. They must have set the camera function on a timer, unless there was someone else in the room?
“How do I look, honey?” she whispered.
“Oh, Alison, for fuck’s sake, Alison, what can I say?” I was choking on lust. I was spluttering, gasping and groaning aloud as she stroked my erection as I watched her in the arms of this stranger; this extremely handsome, toned, young, black stranger.
“Do you want to see more?” she breathed, taunting and exciting me like never before.
I could only nod my head. It was spinning with lust and bewilderment at the woman in the photos. My previously demure and faithful wife had allowed photos to be taken of her in the arms of a lover. And it seemed perfectly natural for her to now be showing these to her husband.
She slid the screen along again and smiled at the image before her. She had clearly taken this shot of Joel. He was stripped down to only his figure hugging, white Calvin Klein trunks. I almost sobbed when I saw the shape and length of his cock, encased in its cotton sheath, lying horizontal across his groin and almost disappearing around his left side.
“That’s Joel,” she announced, as if I needed to be told. “What do you think?” she asked.
What the fuck does a husband say to his wife who has just asked him what he thinks of another man, who is clearly about to have sex with her?
“Is that fucking thing real?” was all I could blurt out.
“Oh baby, it’s real – look.”
She had opened the next photo and it was on screen, right in front of my face. Joel had taken his cock out of his trunks and it was now hanging between his legs in all its glory. A long, thick, black snake of a cock, hanging down about eight inches from his groin, and not yet hard.
“Holy fucking’ shit!” I exclaimed.
“What do you think, honey, huh? Is that something or what?”
I just stared in absolute shock and awe as she continued to stroke my bursting erection. I was unable to take my eyes off Joel’s massive black cock. “How on earth could she have taken that entire thing inside her?” I wondered.
“Say something, baby,” she whispered.
“He’s too big, Ali. You couldn’t possibly have taken all of him without being hurt, surely?”
“Oh, honey, let me tell you. Let me lie down here and show you tell you all about what happened.”
She stopped stroking me and lay down on the bed. Slowly, she spread her satin smooth legs and raised her knees a fraction opening her pussy, slightly.
“Joel was tender with me when we started. Originally I thought the girls’ stories at work must have been exaggerating his size but when I saw him, it, I was speechless. I never knew they came in sizes like that. He must be over twice the size I am used to. Oh you poor honey, I hope you don’t mind me telling you all this. I think you did want to know the details though, didn’t you?”
My heart felt like it had been stabbed. More than twice the size she was used to? That was me she was referring to of course and it felt difficult hearing your wife tell you something like that; difficult and humiliating. But not that much that it didn’t produce another effect within me.
I became even more excited at the thought of my sweet wife comparing my cock with that of her lover’s. True cuckold angst mixed with jealousy, anger and unbelievable excitement.
“I just played with him in my hands for ages. It felt incredible - thick, hot and as soft as velvet. I had to use two hands to get him erect and even then I couldn’t get all of him in my grasp. I felt his thick veins in the palms of my hands as I slowly wanked him. He loved me doing that for him. Why don’t you come down and have a look at my poor, tender pussy, honey?”
Hesitantly, I crawled down between her lovely legs. The aroma hit me instantly. It was sweet, heady and earthy all at the same time. Her perfume and their bodily scents mingled to produce an intoxicating liquor as a reminder of their coupling. I breathed it in, deeply.
“Oh, baby, I am so tender. Joel worked himself in to me so slowly and I managed to take him eventually. Am I stretched down there, baby?”
The folds of her pussy were indeed stretched. The thin strip of hair above her mound was speckled with what could only be his dried semen. Her outer labia were red and puffy and hanging much more loosely than they had previously. She had clearly been well and truly fucked.
To be continued…
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/interracial/first-date-part-ii.aspx">First Date - Part II</a>