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I lay next to her, gently caressing her side, her thighs.
I watch as she sleeps, the steady rising of her chest, a sleep of
peace, of contentment.
I look at her beautiful, angelic face; her naked body next to me.
I smell the musky scent of passion on her, and in the air.
I look at my wife – my soul mate, my love, and I remember….
I remember back to before we walked this path. My fantasies, my fears
of rejection by her if she learned of them.
I remember the night I finally found the courage to share with her
this, as we lay in each other’s arms in bed. I remember the look of
shock in her face, the anger rising within her, the thought that my
fears were founded.
I remember a couple of weeks later, out of the blue, she started to
ask me about my fantasy, talk about it.
I remember over the next year the slow development of the fantasy for
us, as she slowly became more understanding. How we roleplayed in our
intimate moments. Of watching her as we watched our first interracial
movie together – how she kept a face of disinterest, but of the
telltale signs of her body that betrayed her feigned disinterest. Her
telling me that she was sharing this fantasy with me, but that it is
all it would ever be, and me accepting that.
I remember that night 3 months ago, as we lay in each other’s arms
after making love when she asked if I really wanted to try this. My
shock, the thoughts racing through my mind – fear, trepidation,
excitement. I responded after the second time she asked, almost
automatically — yes. I remember thinking our life together may
never be the same.
I remember the discussions – what she wanted, what I wanted. I felt a
new confidence emanating from her – one I did not know existed.
She is taking the first step
I remember the night I found the personal ads she had been searching
on the internet. The night she told me that we needed to talk, that
she had found someone. Asking me if I was sure I could deal with it.
I found as her confidence was increasing, so was mine decreasing. Is
this something I really want? Are fantasy and reality two very
different things that should not be mixed? Sheepishly, I responded
I remember her telling me last week that we “had plans” for tonight.
That we would be meeting someone for dinner. That she would like me
to book a hotel room. Again she asked if I was sure that this is what
I wanted? Again I was uncertain; torn. Again I answered yes.
I remember as tonight approached, the tension between us grew – I
cannot explain, but it was there.
I remember arriving home from work tonight. She was already dressed and looked incredible. I was overcome by my wife’s beauty, her
sexiness. She looked and dressed the way she did when we were first
dating – alluring, sensual, but classy.
I remember the drive – the silence, the building anticipation. You
could cut the air with a knife. We checked into the hotel, delivered
our bags to our room. She freshened up, then asked if I was ready. I
had no idea if I was ready or not. I had no real idea of who was
joining us for dinner.
I remember riding the elevator down to the restaurant. The
butterflies in my stomach. The sinking feeling. We walked into the
restaurant and were shown to a booth. She sat, with me beside her,
and ordered a drink.
I remember 15 minutes later he walked in. She did not have to say
anything – I knew right away it was him. Tall, muscular, bald, black.
He scanned the room, then his eyes fixed on my wife, and he strode
confidently to our table. I automatically stood up and thrust out my
hand, which he took and shook – looking directly at me, smiling. My
wife stood and hugged him – it is a sight I will not easily forget.
She slowly disengaged from the embrace and slid back into the booth
seat. He straight away slid in next to her. I was bewildered but
slowly took my place in the seat across the table from them.
I remember the small talk. The look of confusion on the servers face,
and then the slow smile on that formed on her lips as she realized
what was going on. The dinner was a blur. I watched as they talked, as
she giggled like a lovestruck teenager to the things he said. Feeling
like a stranger looking in. The anxiety built within me. The panic.
As dinner ended, he excused himself to visit the restroom. She and I
sat there for a while, unsure of what to say. Finally, she asked me if
I was sure? She said it was not too late – that this could end now. I
wanted to answer, but I could not find words, could not talk. Just
then he returned and slid back next to her. He turned and kissed her
on the lips, and she returned his kiss. I could not take this
anymore – I excused myself quietly and went to the bathroom – I
needed time to think.
I remember standing in the bathroom, washing my face with the cool
water from the tap. I remember the thoughts going through my mind. The
jealousy, the envy, the anger. I realized what I must do. I must put
a stop to this before it went any further. I remember the sense of
relief, the newfound confidence that I was feeling as I made my way
back to the table to stop this mistake.
I remember the horror, the sick feeling as I got back to the booth to find it empty. I remember
the server approaching me, and telling me, as she tried not to laugh,
that my wife and her “friend” had gone back to the room, and that I
should join them once I had settled the check.
I remember the server taking forever to process our bill, wondering
if it were deliberate, the wait agonizing. Finally, it was done, and
as I left the restaurant, my lovely server was standing with two
other whispering, followed by laughter from all.
Losing my cuckold virginity
I remember walking to
the elevator, barely able to stop myself from running, thinking that
I must get to our room before anything happens – must put a stop to
it. I ride the elevator to our floor and hurry to the room. I pull
out the key card, fumbling and dropping it, before picking it up and
sliding it in the lock. Feeling ready to explode. I remember opening
the door and stepping in. I do not remember the door closing behind
me, but I am sure it must have. I found myself in a state of shock,
of disbelief, at the scene I saw before me. I remember looking at the
bed. On it, I saw him, laying back, his trousers off, his legs
planted on the ground. Between them was my wife – on her knees, naked
save for her black thong bikini, her head moving up and down
rhythmically, his hand firmly on the back of it. I remember making a
noise – hard to describe it, maybe a moan, anything to get their
attention. He looked up at me and smiled. She did not. My knees felt
like they were about to buckle, I felt the blood rushing to my face.
I am not sure how long I stood there, watching my beautiful wife
service this stranger, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, the
silence was broken by his voice. “Are you just going to keep standing
there?” He motioned with his head to a chair across from the bed. In
a daze, I obediently followed his gesture and took my seat. My wife
still did not break from what she was doing, look, acknowledge my
Taking her bareback
I remember watching as my wife devoured him. He was a
large man – more than I could ever hope to be. I watched as his
hugeness slipped in and out between her lips, her eyes closed, lost
in the moment. After a while, he removed his hand from her head, took
her hands in his, and helped her to her feet. He then slipped his
fingers through her thong and slid it down. all the while, she
stared into his eyes, not breaking the connection. I remember as she
mounted him. I could tell she felt pain at first, she grimaced.
Slowly she lowered herself on to him, inch by inch, until finally, he
was fully inside her. Her expression changed then – no more a
grimace, but not sure how to describe it – maybe lustful.
I remember his hands fondling her breasts at first, flicking her hard nipples
with his thumb. Then moving them around her waist, gripping her as
she raised and lowered herself in a steady, but ever-quickening
rhythm. I remember the sickness I felt in my stomach as I watched my
wife give herself, body and mind, to her new lover. But I also felt
something else. A tingling came over me, and down between my legs, my
pants began to rise, betraying me. As I watched them, I slowly was
lost in myself, reaching down without even realizing it to massage
the swelling that I had developed.
I remember watching her as she rode him. Her breasts bouncing with each motion. Her body beginning to
glisten with the sweat of lust. Watching as her body began to shake
and twitch as the rhythm increased, listening to her moans of
pleasure and pain. He asked her what she wanted – she replied with “I
want a real man like you”. I watched as they headed to a crescendo. I
watched as a wave of extasy washed over her face as she climaxed for
the first time. She let out a guttural scream. I had never seen her
like this before – I was transfixed. I remember as time passed.
They moved to different positions, and with each new position, she
found new joys. She orgasmed three more times. He orgasmed twice –
filling her on both times with his seed. In between, they lay in each
other’s arms, hugging, kissing, whispering sweet nothings.
Occasionally broken by her giggles, his laughs. It seemed like an
eternity but was in reality about four hours. And there I sat, not
moving from my voyeuristic perch.
I remember them eventually going to the bathroom together, showering together, while I remained as I was.
They were talking and laughing, but I have no idea what was said.I
remember them finally coming back into the bedroom, where she
toweled him dry, and then helped him dress – buttoning his shirt,
putting on his shoes and socks for him. I soaked in the scene – her
nakedness. She was glowing. They walked to the door. He turned to me
and said “later, cuck”, smiling all the time. Then he turned to my
wife and took her hands in his. He leaned down, and they kissed
passionately. Her hands lingered in his, not wanting to release.
Finally, he gently let go and opened the door to leave. She told him
as he walked out that she would call him.
I remember the door closing behind him, and wearily my wife made her way to the bed and collapsed. After a minute she looked at me, smiled, and patted the
bed next to her. I sheepishly moved and lay beside my wife, where she
proceeded to help me remove my clothing. We lay there together,
naked. She slowly caressed my chest and then moved her hand down to
my still hard penis. Slowly she stroked me, and then gained pace. We
lay there silently as she bought me to release. I orgasmed as i
never have before.
I remember laying there, and her leaning over and
saying to me the words “I love you”, and then she kissed me tenderly
on the cheek. With that, she rolled over, exhausted, but content, and
drifted into a deep sleep. So as I lay here, watching my beautiful
wife sleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically with each
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I remember. I remember everything.
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