Wife Turns Slut For Husband

Intro:

“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 animal 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 forWhiteSlutWife, 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.