by Derrin Hart
We would worry for weeks over whether the condom might have had a small hole in it. She was on the pill, but what if that failed?
Our guy left the hotel rather quickly after Sara said she was very tired. There was silence in the room and I knew she was upset. I was crazy horny and took her for a quick one- minute screw.
I came fast. I was thinking this guy could be our regular meet once per month; perhaps we could meet just him and no other? For the first time the law of the Kama Sutra genitalia size chart was a match in our marriage and in Sara’s vaginal size opening.
But it was not to be. She was feeling guilty and very upset all of a sudden. Crying, she told me she had not wanted to fuck him. She had done it because he had traveled a long ways to meet.
He had been too old for her; the attraction had not really been there. She got lost in the liquid courage of the drinks and then the wanting for sex but now she felt awful. I was sad, too. I had thought we had hit the jackpot. As we went to sleep in the hotel room, I was still overexcited. I played with myself constantly all through the night and kept waking her to fuck. She thought I had lost my mind.
Half awake and in a dream state, I envisioned him—this older monster-sized dong military man—as her full time lover. He would be our main squeeze. He and Sara would form a monthly joining, with me as the helpful cuckold. I was not bi—never once had I seen myself as such—but with him I would do my duty. I would suck his giant prick to get him hard; I would eat her cream pie when he was done with her each night. I would be the ass fucker when a double penetration was called for. I would serve drinks and do anything they needed to make each night special.
These thoughts had never crossed my mind before.
In the morning I came to realize it would be the end of our swinging days for quite a while.
By waking her up several times to fuck her and saying that just maybe she could reconsider and meet him once per month, I had only made matters worse. She declared an end to all our swinging on the long ride home. She quit the lifestyle. Never had she felt more upset. She had made up her mind never to bed anyone unless she was very attracted to them. The aftereffects drained her soul.
This time was no exception, and we were done with our open marriage.
The following weekend, therefore, was apparently a fluke. Sara and I were out dancing at a club. She wore designer jeans and a tight black blouse; she looked fantastic. Her long blond curly locks whipped about on the dance floor and her bubble butt packed tight in those hot jeans was a showstopper. The luck of the night gave us two fairly good-looking stylish black men that were buddies. Both eyed Sara intently.
They made it a point to smile at us and eventually came over to make small talk. One even asked Sara to dance. The night was getting wild and wilder by the minute. These guys seemed cool and mentioned that a few friends were having a party nearby; they would love it if we attended. They were ready to go, and we had a big decision to make. After sipping her purple hooters, Sara was all for it.
The party was held at a rural home on the east side. The place was older, and when we first entered, somewhat dimly lit. Three more black guys were playing cards at a table, and a few hot-looking Latino ladies were sitting nearby on a low, king-sized bed. The main area was a gutted-out playroom. Introductions were made and we ended up joining the card game. The drinks flowed freely. A few guys were smoking cigars and the room got hazy and we were laughing and having a crazy fun time. I lost one hundred dollars too quick, and my wallet was running dry.
Sara giggled and wanted to play more. The men were eying her closely and I saw one lick his lips. Two of the guys were twins; I mean they must have been identical. They had on wife-beater white tank tops, and their short dread-top hairstyles matched, too. Everyone encouraged us to keep playing, to keep betting. I was like thinking we have no money, but they vouched for us, saying,
“If you don’t have the cash, we’ll figure something out.” This was kind of nuts, but I was sort of drunk, and my wife was into it, determined to beat these guys at poker. I sucked at poker because I hardly ever played, but I went along with the game.
We lost again. Suddenly the men all got up and demanded Sara as their reward. I was like,
“Are you guys nuts?” She resisted and felt the same. We were ready to leave. The two girls sitting nearby left the room. The guys grabbed Sara and pulled her over to the low-standing bed. I tried to cut them off, but one shoved me back. They stripped Sara’s clothes off—yanking her jeans down, leaving her white and pink polka dotted bikini panties half on one ass cheek and one leg. They tossed her onto the bed, pulling her jeans fully off. The panties followed. I cried out, “Guys, this is nuts! Let her go.” She fought them, but there was too many. A heavily tattooed one called Brand got her top over her head, and he all but pulled her bra free—brutally, with no regard for her.
The men gathered around my wife were removing their own clothes next. What the fuck was happening here? This was friggin crazy! The twins brandished cocks that were unworldly; they looked like long thick vodka bottles, each with slimming tips, uncircumcised heads covered with foreskin. The others, too, were hung and hard. They all pounced on my little wife. I was dizzy, yet ready to do anything I could to stop the onslaught. “Stop this you fucking assholes!” I yelled as I dove in to break it all up. I grabbed one of the guys and was about to punch his face in, but another drove me back with a shoulder block. I tumbled to a corner of the room. I got back up and shouted more, furious. Sara was begging to be let loose; she was upset and drunk.
The thugs were in-between her legs, eating her pussy. Others stuck their cocks in her face, while another sucked her nipples. I went forward again, mad as hell. I took two steps and found myself staring in the face of a snub-nosed revolver. Jebron, the tallest of the black brutes, looked at me with a big grin. “Sit down over there and shut your fucking mouth, white boy.” I backed into a small chair and sat and watched. The men ravished my wife. The room was spinning and they laughed and chuckled and used her body. One now fucked her doggie style. Another had her sucking his long erection. Another sucked her tits. She had resisted at first, but it looked like now she had given in to the sex. One of the twins got under her and jutted his huge tube-steak black dong up into her pussy. From behind, one licked her ass and anally entered her. She was taking a double penetration. She was wildly not ready for this. She wanted to be let go. The others held onto her, one stuffing his prick in her yelping mouth. They told her to shut up and take it.
The gangster with all the tats grabbed his box nearby and demanded that all the brothers stop, as he trying to accomplish something. The men held her in place as he inked her ass. He wove a black spade on her butt, giving my delicate wife a permanent tattoo. I was in shock. He added,
“bbc whore” for his name, and this symbol of a black spade representing her as a black-cock-loving slut was now hers forever. I was sweating buckets, shaking and breathless. Suddenly all the men were joyously ejaculating, coming all over my wife, spurting their jism on her face, ass, swollen pussy lips and even her hair. This wetness awoke me from my slumber. “Holy fucking shit,” I murmured.
I had been dreaming.
I staggered into the hallway, leaving Sara in our bed. I leaned against the wall, wiping sweat and heat off my soaked face and neck. What a wild-ass dream. I ran my hand over my forehead, squeezing and shaking, to gain a grip on myself. This had been one of the most vivid dreams I had ever experienced.
I thanked God that it had only been a dream. I could not get back to sleep. I was able to include the dream in this book in such detail because I recorded it in my journals. It was an easy one to remember, and to be honest most dreams I have had in my life were forgotten by the next morning. I would not forget this one anytime soon. In truth, this book is a compilation of all my journal writings.
Another year went by, and I missed the rush of swinging and the visual of sex. No more crazy dreams either. As a voyeur I needed to see some action soon. I
had met another couple online who wanted the wife to meet some black men and decided to help them out. I set up a party for the guy’s wife at a hotel out of state. I would be host for the event. Several men had approached me about wanting to meet my wife, but she had quit the lifestyle. I thought, here are all these men, why not give another guy’s wife her fantasy night come true? Sara agreed to let me do it, and I made arrangements for the bash to take place in a few weeks.
In a typical marriage, a wife is usually younger than her hubby or the same age. This was the case for us. As a result, a woman’s increasing sexual appetite in her 30s and 40s gives her greater sexual needs than her husband’s. This was true for us as well. The wife needs more sex, and longer sessions, and more orgasms than her spouse. Her older-or- same-age husband, on the other hand, wants sex far less than his wife. This can of course leave his wife unsatisfied and frustrated.
Finally, the thing that makes most sense in regard to a woman’s sexual superiority is her ability to have multiple orgasms. There is a big difference. It’s just that darn emotional factor that tends to mess it all up when trying to live a cuckold lifestyle. Women have been raised and programmed to think that too much sex or sex with many men is wrong. The guilt kills them, and for my Sara guilt was a very big issue through our many encounters.
By allowing Sara to engage in sex with other men I was relieved of the pressure to perform.
So-called normal couples and people in general would find this off-kilter, to say the least. But there is no cheating in a cuckold marriage, no lies, and no boredom. This was a great setup, or so I thought.
I, in the meantime, had begun to try to find ways to make our own sex life better. Sara and I just could not find common ground as a couple in the fucking department. I bought sex toys to enhance the activity, but none seemed to get her going. I got anal beads, jelly dildos, vibrators, and all sorts of lotions and lingerie for her to mess around with. We found no common ground with any of these add-ons. I picked up strap-on cocks, offered to do anything she wanted—weird stuff as well—but again nothing. She wanted just plain sex, yet she wanted it to last for hours, with a really hard cock driving deep and steady. She wanted me to whisper sweet nothings and make it all just perfect, yet this was not working either.
So I put my energy into the party with another two couples whose wives loved sexy black men. I scheduled two wives and eight black men for a Saturday-night party to be held in two weeks. When the evening arrived, I tried to interest Sara in going, but she said no thanks. So off I went on the three-hour drive to a nice hotel in Boston. I met first with a couple who lived about an hour from the hotel. She was a sexy, forty-something woman with short curly hair and a nice attitude. She wore a black miniskirt and black fishnet stockings. Her blouse was a silky white, and she looked real good. Her husband was a solid guy yet seemed to have an attitude I did not click with. He was the wealthy-husband type with an oversexed wife who he let run free, yet he wanted full control of the situation because he had a high-profile job. He was stiff, so I was glad that she at least was fun and had personality. While he got drinks, we talked, and she was thrilled with the setup for the evening. She told me, “I am so excited about this night. I work hard and love sex and want to play all night. I deserve it and need this type of fun whenever possible.”
We waited at a bar right next to the hotel for the rest of the guests to show up. The first black guy to arrive was a real charmer. He was dressed nice, good looking, had a clean-shaven head, was fit and had a huge grin at all times on his face. He hugged Mary (the wife of Curt) and she was all smiles. He romanced her at the bar table and had her happy and into the foreplay as soon as they began chatting. This was his game and he was on it quickly. She told me I had made a great choose for Guy One.
The second guy to arrive was not so great. He was short and had a mouth on him that did not fit his size, yet he was nice enough to fit in. We waited for the next guy and the other couple, who were all expected to join us. None did, however, so we all headed to the hotel room to begin the fun. I was just supposed to be the host and enjoy watching. I got a call saying the second couple was canceling. This did not sit well with Curt, whose wife would now be the sole object of desire for all the men. A third black guy showed up, and we ended up having Mary enjoy all three while Curt and I watched. This new guy was a stocky fellow with a decent smile and all three wasted no time taking Mary to excited heights in the living room area. She was on fire, ready and willing.
While we had walked to the hotel, the charismatic Tyron had been making her steamy, touching her and teasing her with foreplay. Upon arriving in the room, he slipped off her micro miniskirt and offered up her pussy for all to see. The shorter fellow named Al was loving it and fondling her small tits. Eric the third guy picked her up, and they all carried her to the bed. I peered in, watching the men strip her naked and go to town. She was passionate and loved every second of it. She had no trouble with all six sets of hands all over her petite frame. Each guy would have her that evening. Tyron made sure he was first; he got naked and brandished a big, thick, mushroom-umbrella-headed cock that she sucked furiously and made long and hard. I thought to myself, wow, this guy would be perfect for my Sara. They fucked in all postures and the two other black guys even did a double penetration on Mary.
In the living room area of the suite, Tyron and I had a chance to talk. He was a big sports fan like myself and very funny. I made sure to mention my wife to him and he was interested. The night ended with all of us talking and sharing stories and whatnots. I had no desire to ever see the other black guys again. They were in no way my sexy wife’s types. But, man this Tyron fit the bill. We exchanged e-mails.
Mary said she had a wonderful night, very hot. Her husband thanked me for playing host, yet he was still stiff. We watched a little of the baseball game on TV before heading our separate ways. During my long drive home I called Sara to say I wished she had made the trip. She was asleep and our conversation went nowhere.
The next week Sara and I didn’t discuss swinging. But when Friday night came and we found ourselves with time to talk, things exploded. She had decided swinging was not for her, and I decided it was the one thing that made our sex life prosper. Our argument was heated. She loved the idea of great sex but had been raised Catholic and felt it was wrong. Every time we met someone, we got all excited and had sex more often. It felt right to me. We discussed the idea of one lover for her. We could arrange for one special black lover, who would fuck her regularly on a monthly basis. That interested her, yet we came to no agreement. I mentioned Tyron from the party I’d hosted and explained how good-looking he was and funny and all the things she loved in a sexy guy. That, too, held her interest, but we made no plans to resume any swinging activity.
Time passed and we tried hard to make things work in the sex department. Our size difference, my impotence and our work schedules with a child made it very difficult. In my spare time I came to realize a lot of husbands were into this cuckold stuff. There were so many websites about the subject, with tons of ads seeking men for their wives. More parties caught my attention too. There were black and white parties with an interracial theme. One party had all the cuckolds stay on one side of the room, while wives went to the other, closed off by a wall. The black men on that side would meet the women separately and chitchat. Once the bar pickup strategy was over, husbands were allowed to join in. By then the ladies had made their choice or choices for the evening. One even had the wives wearing a white T-shirt so that all the black men could use a sharpie and comment on said wife so that hubbies could read the notes.
Why in the world did all these guys—not unlike myself—love seeing their wives get fucked and seduced by other men? There was a hotwife and cuckold phenomenon going on and most of the so-called normal adults had no clue. Sara worked with the most stuck-up, plain, reserved people in the world. There was no chance that she would gain insight or get excited about exploring her sexuality at work. I got lost in my f
antasies for a while. I’d play with myself to her sexy pics, and the few videos with her as the star became my outlet.
Chapter Six
As the months flew by, I mentioned Tyron a lot. Eventually she said, “What the hell; let’s go for it, he seems like someone I’d like to meet.” I knew she would find him cool. It was a winning solution to our current stalemate. I hoped they would hit it off and she could find some newfound excitement in swinging.
I showed Tyron a few pics of Sara on an email and he was quite taken by her looks. So it looked like we had a date. We made plans to meet him at a bar halfway between our homes.
That evening Sara decided to dress casual. She had a pair of Capri pants that were a camel color and fit real tight to her shapely ass. These pants gave her a pumpkin most women would die for. She put on a tight V-neck brown shirt and completed the outfit with a pair of sexy brown and gold heels. Her long blond hair cascaded down her shoulders, curly and shiny. The bar we had chosen was two stories; one was outside—below and on the street itself—and the other part was upstairs, inside the adjoining building.
As live bands blasted music about the streets, we waited outside for Tyron to arrive. The cocktail of the night was a mocha martini. Sara loved this drink, and before the night was over would two more. One thing is for sure: whenever she drinks she gets super horny and her inhibitions go out the door. It’s what I call her liquid courage.
Tyron our sexy black date arrived on time and sat between us. He was dressed in slacks and a long-sleeved button-down shirt, very dressy and sharp. He poured on the charm right away. He kissed her and smiled and reached for her drink, saying, “This looks interesting.”
Tyron was bald and slim and fairly tall. He had decent muscles and a great smile. The two of them chatted and he whispered in her ear something that made her giggle. He then talked about the people around us, insisting that each one had a hidden agenda for the evening. Sara laughed and got into their conversation. More drinks arrived and the two got lost in talking as I watched and listened to the loud band nearby. I could not make out what he was saying but he kept flirting with her for an hour and she was into it. I was left out of the loop. I sat there like a good husband, saying nothing.
