Our Dark Secret

by Derrin Hart

  She did not know it, however, and that was going to be the hard part. “Thank you so much honey,”

  she said as we drove the long highway home.

  Tyron’s style did not suit my vision of a stud fucking my wife. He was too romantic, and dragged things out way too long. He was a player, and I did not enjoy his games. I would never allow him to meet us again. This was settled in my mind as we drove farther home. Sara, I’m sure, was envisioning many more such encounters. We were headed for showdown.

  We battled for weeks thereafter. Our arguments never seemed to end. Sara wanted more of Tyron. However, she also began many discussions by saying that perhaps swinging was not for us.

  Our emotions were all over the place. On New Year’s Eve we had a major fight. I had heard too much about how perhaps I should shave my pubic region, how she would like to spoon when we make love—a scenario that did not work in our case. With her round bubble butt pressing back into my hips, I was not long enough to reach inside her with my cock. It just would not work.

  Next she said, “I’d like to see a new set of pics from Tyron and my last session.” I made them for her, placing them with the old set on the closet’s top shelf. It was never ending. I was chopped liver and her lover was fillet mignon. She sensed I was not into him. She was furious.

  On New Year’s Eve we went out and fought all night. I was feeling hurt and pissed at the same time. It had never been my intention to change the way Sara loved me, or see her lose her deep appreciation of all that we had been through as a couple and everything that goes along with a long marriage and having children. We had to iron things out and get a fresh start. If I offered up Tyron again, everything would be fine. That I would not do, yet I said no such thing. I was waiting until the moment was right.

  Sara’s idea of a fun night was to not always plan in advance. I liked planning. There were reasons to plan, especially at this time in our lives and in our swinging wife-sharing adventures.

  First off, we needed to find just the right guy. He had to be a flirt—young, good-looking, and fun to be around. Those were the qualities she demanded, and they were easy enough to find at a bar with her looks and sexy body. Yet, there were the other things that made me uneasy. Online I could screen men in advance, get a feel for them, perhaps have another husband or wife email me, tell me how their meeting with them had gone. Plus there was the hung factor that Sara did not address in her, “I want to just randomly go out to a bar and pick up a guy” plan. If the guys were small the connection would not work for crap. She liked to bang and get a good deep screw. There were way too many good-looking, fit, sexy, flirty guys with tiny little dicks out at bars and at the gym I went to that could not give her what she wanted. If I was sharing her, I wanted her ravished and taken control of. The times when a guy we met in a bar was small (and there were a few), she was in charge and he was overwhelmed. That sucked.

  Lastly there was the danger factor. The idea of a random nut case was no thrill for me, either.

  With no prior screenings or recommendations, we might well end up with a freak. I could only imagine sweet little Sara standing nude with some psychopath pulling a gun and demanding shit, hitting her (or worse) out of fury. The random picking up of a hot stud in a bar on the spot just did not cut it in my book.

  Chapter Nine

  Almost another year passed, and then I had a plan. A new guy from out of state had popped up for a possible meeting. He seemed to fit the bill, and I came up with a plan of action. Recently at a party we’d met a cool couple who also liked black men for their female half. We had spoken about going out together some night and finding a bevy of black studs our ladies could choose from among and hook up with. They agreed to meet one night at a cool bar said to host many hot black guys.

  Online I suggested to Blaine that he show up at the bar that very night. He would pretend not to know us. When we approached him, he was to act surprised yet interested. This in turn would fuel Sara’s fantasy of picking up a random guy. If they hit it off, it would work great. He liked the idea and the plan was set in motion.

  It was fun meeting Jim and Wendy, who had spunk. He was a great cuckold, yet like me, he enjoyed the ladies as well. His lady was a smoking older babe, late forties but built nice and horny as hell for the right guy. Just like Sara, black men turned her on. The bar we met at was dark yet had a nice cool feel to it. There were two sections, so we could have a nice dinner with cocktails on one side then go to the other and join the party. Sara looked sexy in a short brown skirt, tight white frilly blouse and a pair of sleek brown-and-gold high heels. Her bushy thick blond hair was teased just enough to give her that hot celebrity look. Wendy was hot, too. She had on a black micro miniskirt and a tiny red tank top blouse; I mean, she was a looker for her age. She, too, wore heels, real high heels that were black with silver bows. These two ladies were MILFs in every sense of the word tonight—hot kittens on the prowl.

  A few drinks got the ball rolling and both ladies were loose and tipsy when the dancing began. There were a few guys who caught their eyes early on, too. Blaine arrived in good time, and he got the attention of the girls as well. Jim, not even knowing of my plan, went right over to him and invited him to sit with us. He was a hit right off the bat. He played it up, saying he was new in the area and meeting a friend for drinks. He was stocky in stature and dressed preppy, yet looked well. He had personality and both the women liked him. I was wondering if Wendy may want him as well. I was like, what can we do here?

  As the night went on, more men arrived, more people danced, and the joint got hopping. Two more black dudes got in the mix, chatting with the wives and hanging close to us. One guy Wendy and Jim had met before; he was a looker, well-built and wearing lots of bling. Sara liked his looks, too. I figured either he or Blaine could work for a hotel room romp later on. The girls danced with the black men and Jim and I mingled about, looking for more possibilities. It was a new thrill to walk up to a random stud and say, Look over there, that’s my wife and she loves to fuck. Some of the guys thought I was nuts, but a few smiled and asked questions. Jim was all over it and I hardly got a word in. He talked his lady up and offered her on a silver platter to most anyone black and handsome.

  It was easier for him, he told me. Wendy was tight, her pussy small, so size was not a major issue—just looks and personality. They had it easy compared to Sara and me. Well Blaine and Sara hit it off and I asked her what she thought. She smiled and said, “I like him, he’s cool, and I’d play with him.”

  So there we had it, a winner. Jim was okay with Wendy playing with the other stud they had met a while back—the one with the ruggedly handsome looks. He even pulled up a pic on his cellphone from a year earlier that showed them messing around together on a hotel bed—too funny but true. We were going to meet in the same suite, all six of us, but Wendy’s former lover was not ready to leave when we were. So we grabbed Blaine and took off for our hotel. Jim would call once they too left the bar, and we welcomed them all back to our suite whenever that time came.

  Sara and Blaine were laughing and having a good old time when we hit the hotel room. I was glad to see that he was not shy and soon enough he embraced her with a hug and kiss. She was tipsy and horny and in no time they were making out. I got my video camera rolling and sat back for the show. I truly loved watching my sexy lass in action. She loved sex, and I liked her having sex.

  The desire was there and they undressed one another with vigor. She was aggressive and got him on the bed. Now down to her thong and bra, she straddled him, and her hot bubble butt stole my camera angle and dominated the screen. Man, that woman had an ass to die for. They made out like wild animals, and he got naked by her helping hands.

  I was thrown by his cock size. He was not that big. His pictures made it seem like he was much larger. But he was at least average and somewhat thick, so things were working out just fine.

  Sara was ablaze with passion, and before I knew it, she was pulling him into her mission
ary style for some quick fornication.

  They pressed together and she groaned as he entered her warm womb. He licked at her aureole and sucked her big, protruding nipples. They kissed again and he fucked her harder and harder until she cried out in a libido-driven call of ecstasy. Soon she got on top of him, riding his dick. The gorgeous blond hair flowed down her back and that ass bounced in a yearning wantonness that heated up the hotel room, fogging my camera lens. My cellphone rang, and Jim said they would not be joining us, due to complications with the other black guy. I could not have cared less at that point. My wife was French kissing a stranger, and I had to focus. She rode his dick up and down. Sara was lost in abandon, doing what she loved.

  He was not through. After a break for bathroom duty, they again embraced, hugging and kissing and grinding together. He turned her over, wanting that ass, fucking that pussy, banging his balls into her fleshy, welcoming cunt.

  Sara really loved the long session, the constant hard-on, and the passionate pounding. She proclaimed in a vibrant voice, “God, I love your cock!”

  He did not stop; this call-out excited him. He pushed harder, spanked her ass, and got more vocal. She reached under to stroke his balls, then flicked and tapped her clit, coming loud,

  “Ohhhhh, ummm, yesssss!”

  It was a hell of a session. Later she said it had been great. Yet I felt something had been missing. She had liked the sex, but her emotions had not been fully engaged. However, we left the hotel satisfied and said little as we drove back home.

  In the coming weeks we met no one and barely mentioned swinging. She was constantly masturbating to the pics of Tyron and her together and using her black dildo. Every morning when I peeked on the shelf, the pics and vibrating dildo had been moved. I would adjust them in a new way each time only to see them rearranged from day to day.

  “When can we meet Tyron again honey?” she would say. Those words rang again and again in my head over the next month. I lied, saying he was busy and out of town on work a lot. I knew we would never meet him again. I found myself trying to stay in decent shape. The nights when we went out and met men or attended parties made me want to look good. It may have been out of respect for Sara, or just that I wanted to feel better about myself. I hit the gym, ate better and groomed more than usual.

  A former professional football player was going to be in our area the coming week. He was also a swinger and had answered our new personal ad. The ad read as follows: Happily married couple with sexy blond wife seek well-endowed handsome black stud for nights of passion and excitement.

  Jerome was a big guy, 6’5 and nearly 250 pounds. He looked well-built, seeming to have low body fat and a decent sized cock. The one issue was that he was older than Sara. Then again, he was next door offering a clinic to the public. I mentioned to Sara, why not at least meet him for a drink? She agreed and plans were made.

  She was not overly excited, I could tell. It was a work night and she was tired. Her attire was very casual jeans and a tight purple top. She was rushed and I sensed she felt pressured. After getting a last-minute sitter, we made our way to the guy’s hotel room. Introductions were made.

  He had his head shaven and looked pretty good, and yes, he was a big guy but fit and personable.

  We left his room for drinks at a nearby place. He had on cargo shorts and a T-shirt, very laid-back.

  Drinks were quick, nothing too grand—glass of wine for my dearest and a single beer for the football guy. He was retired but fairly well-known. He did a little flirting with the wife and teased her about going skinny-dipping. She seemed interested and I know liked the fact that he had been a sports star—even if it had been a while back.

  Is it me, or are woman into the whole mind-fuck thing?

  We decided to go back to his room and see if things could progress sexually.

  Things sped up fast once inside his hotel room. He pulled his shirt off immediately and Sara was out of her pants before I had my camera out. She stood there, half-nude in a tiny pink thong and blue bra, looking up at this giant-like man. He pulled his shorts down, wasting no time, and stood there with no underwear on. He did, however, have a raging long hard-on that popped right up looking at my little wife. They moved together and he dominated the screen, taking her to the bed and laying her under him. He climbed high and held his long shaft over her mouth. His organ was about eight inches and semi-thick—nothing huge, but decent enough. She took him in her mouth and sucked him sloppily. He was lying sort of on top of her, forcing the action. Their size differential in body mass was incredible.

  After getting some head, he wanted to fuck her. He quickly spread her legs and submerged his tool into her. She took all he had easily, with no extra lube. They pumped into each other’s bodies—she, the small pale white wife, and he the big tall strong black ballplayer. She was lost under him but held her own. He gave it to her good, yet she took all he could give.

  He wanted to move again and turned her to doggy style. He flexed his big muscles and Sara took his rod deep. There was no slow technique here. He pushed in and out hard, ramming her bubble butt firmly yet steadfastly. The romance was not there. I liked it. Sara seemed like she was going through the motions. So he got crazy and picked her right up off the bed and, standing, let her ride his stiff prick. This was a cool sight. The wife bounced with more vigor at least and got fucked in a new fun style. She enjoyed the variation, and after they landed back on the bed, she encouraged him to fuck her more.

  He got back between her milky thighs and pushed in freely. She grabbed him, asking for more, and he moved faster, grunted and came. She was still aflame, and masturbated in front of us.

  She came wildly, crying out in joy. He wanted more, but she said she was tired. The party was over and she got dressed.

  We said our goodbyes and on the way home she commented, “He was alright, nothing special but okay.” I felt like overall, it had been disappointing. I had expected bigger and bolder things to occur. I mentioned it was time for another party at our friends Ted and Tia’s. This time in my mind I would get some really great studs over to the place and we’d have a sweet party indeed.

  There could be no exceptions. It would have to be a costume party, a Halloween-type bash with all sorts of wild outfits and fun people. October 31st fell perfectly on a weekend night. In a few months we’d try again.

  In the later part of the year, things came crashing down. We were not having much sex, work was stressful and times were hard. Sara made a new female friend at work. The two of them were spending time together and she had a new confidant. Late one evening, I was cleaning the cupboard and started going through some little papers in a small canister. One paper caught my eye. The only thing written on it was a phone number with an area code I thought I recognized.

  I must make one thing clear at this point in the book: I am the person who sets up every meeting with anyone we hook up with. I have all contact information privately stored. All the email addresses are hidden, and all phone numbers are concealed in private folders, password-protected and even coded to be recognizable to myself only. This piece of paper had an area code on it that had no reason to be hidden in this canister. I went directly to the contact list I had protected and secured for my eyes only. My hands were trembling. The number, as I expected, was his, yes, his. There was no way on earth Sara could have sneaked and got Tyron’s number from me. I swallowed hard and became jittery. What on earth was she doing with his number?

  My heart sank as I contemplated the situation. What was my beloved wife doing? Perhaps he had snuck it to her while they were meeting up the last time. But, why had she kept it and not told me? He would not do that. He knew I would not allow it. We both had agreed I should do all contacting for the three of us. I marched upstairs and, at near midnight in my now mad world, I awoke Sara and confronted her. I was both furious and heartbroken. She stumbled out of bed groggy, yet concerned. I knew things were nuts because she began crying right away.

  Then my
heart sank. Sara stuttered, “I, well, I … got it from the cellphone bill. I wanted to call him, to see if he had feelings for me.” I had forgotten all about the cellphone records. I fidgeted about, walking up and down the hallway. I went back to her and, looking her deep in the eyes, yelled, “Why on earth would you want to call him? I take care of all the setting-up stuff.

  You know that!” She cried and looked ashamed.

  “This is our life, Sara. We have a family, a long-term marriage, and a history. Neither of us has ever stepped outside. We always lean on each other.”

  She replied in a soft voice, “I don’t know why. I just wanted to talk to him, to see if he felt the same way about me as I did for him.”

  I was in shock again. I screamed, “ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? What the hell were you thinking? He is not your boyfriend. He has hundreds of lovers and is enjoying you as one of many.”

  She looked at me sadly and said, “I’m so sorry.”

  I held my head in my hands, squeezing my temples tightly. I had lost a piece of my heart. My wife was looking to be a gigolo’s lover and even sneaking about. I was to be left out of the loop and man, was I upset. This was not how it was supposed to be. It was all about us. I simply had a loving wife with greater sexual needs. She was my hotwife with a body that craved longer, deeper, and harder sessions. I had opened up our sex lives to the thrill of new adventure, the fun of going outside the norm as a couple—together through thick and thin.

  What a mess. “I just can’t separate the emotional part from the physical,” Sara explained softly. “The sex with him was so passionate. I lose my mind when he embraces me. Our sex life was all I ever wanted. It may not be perfect but the closeness and emotional so-called spiritual factor for me always would override the physical.” She did not know what else to say. I felt lost.

  All her orgasms, all her comments on what fun our little escapades had been were all crap. Why couldn’t we just have fun sex meets? I had no intention of messing up her spirit.