Sunday, November 30, 2008

The Beginning--AGAIN--retrospect

To my dismay I have just discovered that this blog does not keep ALL posts -- and deleted the beginnings of this journey. (I guess it rotates after a few months or something). However I do not think it is possible for a blog reader to understand where we're going if you don't know where we've come from. So I am going to repost my original opening paragraphs for this blog, which does start at the beginning.
I think I will open a "Prelude" to this blog for anyone who does want to start at the beginning. Meanwhile here is the opening blog posts from Day 1

Introduction:

“Ten toes up, ten toes down, two bare asses going round and around” The punchline to an old joke, but it is a rough paraphrase of the scene in front of me. Underneath the rising and falling black male ass are two long tanned widespread white legs, knees pulled up to her shoulders. Between those spread legs I can see her very swollen pussy lips parted by his condom-encased cock, glistening with her moist juices as he withdraws. Her pussy moves, seeming to cling to his cock with every thrust in and out.
I could close my eyes and know when he thrusts in, because at the depth of every stroke there is a soft grunt, and then an audible “ahhhh” as he withdraws a little, along with an occasional whimper or an “Oh god, I love it.”
I am there, watching this scene, standing behind a video camera.
The white woman underneath this well hung black guy, the woman moaning in pleasure from the strong fucking she is receiving, is my wife of many years. And she is fucking like this with my full knowledge, consent—and encouragement.

This is a long way from the young girl I met in high school and was the first man (boy at the time) to enjoy the pleasure of making love with her.

How she (and we) journeyed from that na├»ve, inhibited, straightlaced teenager to what, by her own definition, is today a “bona-fide slut for black cock” is the purpose for this blog.

We are from a small town where if our lifestyle choices of today were known it would be a scandal—so we must be discreet. But frankly we enjoy talking about the hotwife/interracial lifestyle or those who want to be in the lifestyle. Maybe we can accomplish that with this blog.

Pre-Beginning

When I first saw her it was love and lust at first site. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and I wanted her so bad. I pursued her, even to the point that when I asked her to go steady she told me she was seeing this other guy—and she had to see him one last time before she would go steady for me. If that was what it took to get her, then that was what I was willing to do.
In conversations on dates she revealed that she hated clothes, and wished everyone could run around nude. I had found my perfect mate, I thought, because I did know after sneaking out my Dad’s Playboys that I wanted a beautiful woman like the ones in the centerfold who didn’t mind being naked! And she was on that level.
We dated for years during high school and had no had other sexual partners. I popped here cherry in the front seat of my Dad’s car while some friends of ours were making out in the back seat.

We broke up eventually, only for a couple of weeks, and I vividly recall walking into a dance late, catching a glimpse of her back as she walked out the door to leave (early) with another guy. It was obvious they were going to parking and making out—and since she and I were fucking I was absolutely racked with the painful idea of her fucking someone else, just to see what someone else would be like, and I immediately pursued her and got her back. She had not fucked him—as she said, girls did such things on first dates in those days. We married just out of high school.
I was insecure about my hold on her, and worried that at some point some other guy might take her away from me. My gut told me that. Years later she would tell me, “Well honestly I just married you to get out of a bad situation at home. I didn’t love you then. But I love you now.” Another time she told me, “I thought I would stay with you until someone better came along—but they never did, and not I love you.” But I’m getting ahead of my story.

My remedy for my insecurities was to be jealous, critical of anything she wore even remotely revealing, and going to great pains to insure that she wasn’t alone with other men and therefore able to become intimate with them and drift away. Of course as a beautiful woman she fought it, as she had always been a terrible flirt and loved teasing.

She did dress modestly though. I was just young and stupid—especially in getting along with the opposite sex.

We did not have a lot of sexual experience, but that didn’t mean we were not sexually curious. With me taking the lead we got into me taking photos of her, eventually getting to the point she would let me photograph her nude with an self-developing camera and not throw the photos away immediately.
We would fuck and video ourselves, we would try to make our own pornos with her in a wig and me in different clothes for different scenes, I would tie her up and fuck her, and in my own mind thought this was making up for our lack of other partners. I went so far as to blindfold her, using some pillows, and with a realistic dildo construct a makeshift dummy in the floor and have her ride it with the dildo inside her while she sucked my cock.

I was searching to unlock the place that was hiding the young girl who told me she hated clothes back in high school. I tried having her read Penthouse letters, but she would usually find one that turned her off, and she would stop reading and get angry, so I took to photocopying the ones that turned me on, assuming they would turn her on. Later I learned that some of the anger she expressed at me was anger at herself for being aroused by it. But understanding that would come much later too.
I though it was a safe way to live out my sexual fantasies and desires. I wanted her to open up sexually—I felt there was a sexy, slutty side she was holding in that I desperately wanted to see her let out. But with me alone.

Through all this I didn’t see that she was feeling guilt, insecurity of her own, and going through her own mental headgames which would later be diagnosed as chronic depression. At the time she was blaming me for all the bad feelings she had, and I couldn’t see it. A lot of the anger she felt was directed at me for my actions – by the role playing, the toys, the stories, I was the force behind the cause of the arousal—then the guilt.

We later learned what she was doing is called “passive aggression.” Every new sexual thing we tried would get her pussy pouring. But once she realized her body had revealed she was turned on to the idea , she would turn off mentally. Especially if I liked the idea.

With that as background I saw a talk show about women’s fantasies, which were described as a triad being a woman’s number one fantasy. So I asked her. She said yes. And instantly I had a new theme for our role playing and pornos to buy.
Our business was struggling, we were both working in it and had a huge stress load otherwise, and in her passive aggression mode she thought, “Well if that’s what he wants this is what he will get.”

She was nearing 30, and had remarked that I had robbed her of her dating life by only dating her during high school and marrying so soon.


Part II
As I said she is a beautiful woman, and flirty, and through business she met a guy who was a player, and she responded to his attention. In her frame of mind at that time she was basically a piece of pussy looking for a place to get fucked, and it happened. He seduced her with very little resistance on his part. She later told me she listed a long list of reasons she shouldn’t, only one or two reasons she should, and she went ahead and did it anyway.

She met him for a drink at a local bar on the other side of town. They just talked, but when she was leaving in her car, stopped waiting on traffic, he pulled up behind her in his truck, and got out, walking toward her. She lowered her window and he leaned in the window and kissed her. She thought that was romantic.
She started meeting him in an isolated spot in the woods off a local park, where they were making out, getting further each time of course, but they had not fucked. Then one day as they were fondling each other she told him, “I want you.”

A few days later when I was out of town he called in sick, she put the kids in day care and went to meet her lover. She was apprehensive, but determined to go through with it. As he took her clothes off she said she worried that her boobs would be big enough to please him, and had all these insecurities. He ate her pussy. Her insecurities faded quickly once he got his cock inside her. Without a rubber. He fucked her on her back, quickly, and she lay there with him, cuddling, and then rose up, sucked him back to hardness, and straddled his cock with her boobs hanging down in his face, till he came in her a second time.

He fucked her so hard that she bled a bit onto the sheets, his wife called about the time. They noticed her leaking, and he freaked. He was trying to wash the sheet and dry it out with a hairdryer. They decided not to use his house again.

The next time he borrowed a friends house (I was in town this time), and fucked her on his friend’s bed. They got naked, he got his cock inside her and was pounding her hard enough that some glass bottles on the headboard fell on the bed nearly hitting her in the head, but they were interrupted by a delivery man before they could cum. The interruption spoiled the moment. They got dressed and left without starting up again.

The next time she waited until I was out of town and with the kids in day care fucked him in our den, in my favorite chair, with her legs pulled up to her shoulders, he on his knees in the floor, and really got her off. By then, after four fucks, she was really letting go that time, eager, willing, and wanting to give him the best fuck he’d ever had. She said the sex that time was great.
A couple of weeks later she knew where he was supposed to be that night, I was out of town, and she went a club to surprise him and she did, she caught him with another woman (other than his wife). She got even more depressed after that, and the next few years made my life a living hell. On the way out she wrote “asshole” in the dust of his car window.

She was not through with him yet though. A couple of years later she calls him, they start talking more on the phone, and one day he mentions a store he will be going to. She meets him, goes out into his van, and starts to give him a blow job. A woman walking by looks in the window, and it interrupts them, but not for long. He gets out of van, asks if he can help her, she gets in her car and leaves. He gets back into the van and she finishes sucking him off. A few days later she fucks him at our house again, in our bedroom, in our bed.

Every time she fucks him during the day that night is one of her most aggressive that she is with me sexually. When she fucks him she fucks me as soon after as possible, she later tells me. She’s fucking two men only hours apart.

Then one night he is supposed to come by our house when his night shift job ends, when I am out of town, and spend the night with her, with our kids in the house, coming in after they have gone to sleep. She is supposed to leave the porch light on if it is ok. Late that night she has her hand on the light switch and comes to her senses, and says to herself that this is crazy, and she leaves the light off. She has learned that his wife is pregnant. He doesn’t call back and the affair fades away.

There is a time lag of about three years between the episodes, so she never really quite got him out of her system until later.

I’m oblivious to all this, but I know things are very wrong with our marriage, but we have kids and I hang around for them. Our sex life during this time was adequate, and sometimes she would let get and be the woman I thought I had married, but then she would go back in her shell, after giving me just a glimpse of that woman.

During this time she avoided being alone with me, as I would tend to steer the conversation to trying to analyze what happened during what I called our “dark times.” I was seeking understand, and in reality she had all the answers, and was giving none of them. She dared not drink, or let down her guard, lest something slip. So I was suffering her distancing from me. She felt trapped, as when we would be alone I would bring it up, usually on long car trips—she all but refused to go on a long trip alone with me.

For our 20th anniversary we went to the Caribbean which I had researched to find a resort that was topless (next to a nude beach as well) she would not lay in the topless area where there were plenty of people around—but she would go down the nude beach to an isolated area where we lay naked. People were walking by but no one noticed. She wouldn’t walk down the beach nude though. It was great, I was relaxed, I had seen the woman I fell in love with re-emerging on that trip. She said later that was the trip where she really fell in love with me.

Of course I had had some suspicions about her affair, there had been little things that just didn’t add up when they all jelled in my subconscious—but I didn’t say anything. But I had to know. The only way was for her to tell me. So I wrote her a long letter, explaining my suspicions—telling her that I forgave her for them if she had—but the only thing I wanted to know was the truth. With the letter I gave her a 1-carat solitaire diamond as a token of my sincerity. She later said she went down to the beach while I was taking a nap and cried like a baby. But she didn’t tell me the truth. In fact she looked me right in the face that night and told me she had not fucked anyone.

I was relieved, trashing myself for the years of worry and suspicion over nothing. I think it is called blissful ignorance. But I was a new man, my suspicions had been wrong, because she would not lie after what I had done to insure the truth from her.

A year or so later we went to Maui, went to a small nude beach with bother her because of several people there with clothes on—and later that night, with a flowered lei around her neck (and nothing else) I bent her over the rail on the balcony of our hotel and fucked her. She was totally visible to anyone who looked up, and the U shaped hotel overlooked a garden area and a bar in the middle of it, with quite a bit of foliage. It was one of the hottest things she’d ever done—and still speaks of it fondly. It was more for the danger of being seen, or her desire to be seen and show off, I’m not sure which—but it certainly worked.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

A Turning Point

After our “slut” conversation, I called, it. She got more aggressive in her emailing, and stated her goal was to get some guys used to fucking her now so that as she gets older she can still get black cock. The black cock slut side of her is nothing I said to be degrading—despite how it sounds—but for someone as straightlaced as she was for years it is absolutely enlightening for her to be able to open up yet another side of her, to be able to openly admit that she has that side of her.

I think that like a lot of women, she’s always had that side—but now is finally able to open up about it, admit it, and revel in it. It is a significant point that has overcome a taboo and an inhibition. Her black cock slut side makes her no less a lady, no less a mother, no less a smart business woman, or no less a wife. It is just another angle to a multi-faceted fabulous woman.

Monday, November 24, 2008

Saying the words

Black Cock Slut
We were drinking as usual in the hot tub, and she blurts out “I need a black fix”
When we got to the bedroom with nice buzzes going I said something about her being a black cock slut, and if she considered herself one.
“It’s more like I’m a classy white woman they are getting a special treat being being able to fuck.”
So she got on her back and I said let’s play a game. She resisted, but I put my cock in her mouth and would ask her question. “Just say Black cock slut or not a slut, one or the two.”
“Can’t I just say yes or no?”
“no”.
“Have you fucked a black guy?”
“Black Cock Slut” she responded.
“Have you fucked a black guy with your husband watching?
“Black Cock slut” she answered.
“Have you fucked two different black guys within two weeks?
Black cock slut.”
“Have you fucked more black guys than white guys?”
“Black cock slut”
“Well?”
“I admit it, I’m a black cock slut.—I love it.”
We talked a little longer and she said, “I don’t ever intended to fuck anyone other than black men from now on.” She said.
“Me?” I asked.
“You’re my husband,” you don’t count in that.
“And in a swinging situation?”
“Well in a swinging situation it’s different.”
“You’re fucking a white guy there so I can get fucked?”
“Yes.”

Monday, November 10, 2008

Overnight Guest

This was her first overnighter since the very first time.

We went on the weekend to a mountain cabin, got settled in and we had invited Devin to join us for his second time with Deanna. He got there around five and we started talking, instead of doing anything before supper we just sipped wine and talked. I grilled some steaks, ate, and after dinner it was still daylight and the two of them went outside on the deck to enjoy the view. I joined them, and I felt things were dragging somewhat, and I figured he was tired from his trip.

I finally asked to take her top off—which she did as she laughed about it. She was totally comfortable with it and I got a kick out of watching her sitting there topless carrying on a conversation with this fully clothed black guy. I left to get a drink and when I came back he was kissing her nipples, and they made out for a while, getting darker by the seconds. We went to the hot tub without the lights on and they made outfor a while, kissing, feeling each other up, and then he stood up and she sucked his cock for a while.

When she went to get another drink I told him that if we got the opportunity I wanted to do a double vaginal penetration and he said ok, but once he started fucking her he forgot all about it.

We then moved inside, where they sat on the couch. He put his clothes back on while she just had a towel around her waist, was leaned back on him topless as he played with her breasts, tweaking her nipples and the rings through them. He obviously enjoyed playing with them.

I left again (it seemed he couldn’t get started unless I left the room) and came back and they were making out, he was finger fucking her as they kissed and she reached inside his pants and pulled his cock out. She sucked it, and stood up, took his hand and led him upstairs to our bedroom, where he got down to business.

He ate her pussy, finger fucked her to a squirtin orgasm, the put her in a 69 they they went at for long minutes. He finally rolled her to her back, pulled on a condom and quickly slid his cock inside her. While this first time we had been with him he had been quick and he had been slow to recover, this time he fucked her royally, long strokes and she was squirting again.
They fucked for at least 30 straight minutes in a variety of positions, and as per the way we like to play it he went downstairs to the other bedroom for the night and we slept.

I woke up a couple of times during the night and thought about sending her downstairs with a condom in hand, to wake him up with a fuck (and me following later) but it didn’t work out. We were just too sleepy. I wouldn’t have a problem with her sleeping with him except I know her and if she woke up horny in the middle of the night, which would be likely, I suspect that neither one of them would take the time to bother with a condom.

If we ever get with someone we trust that is into overnights it will happen that she will spend the night in the bed with hi.

We went downstairs the next morning and had coffee, talked some, and then she went upstairs for a shower, coming back down in a sheer top and a only a semi-sheer silk scarf wrapped around her waist with nothing on underneath it. She walked straight over to him and leaned down to kiss him and he pulled her on to his laip. He took the hint and started finger fucking her while they kissed, and she stroked his cock as he did. Again leaning over to suck his cock hard and then moving upstairs where it was a repeat fuck of the night before, at least 30 minutes, a lot of orgasms, and then he had to leave—and we had to check out.

Monday, November 3, 2008

Third Time with her First Black Lover

We wrote (at her suggestion) Sam, the man who took her black cherry, and met him at a suite hotel, having to upgrade because the bed area was really tight. He came in, we sat, had some wine, and talked for a while. She was wearing a short jean skirt and a cowl neck blouse that was very low cut. She started kissing him, and he moved his hand inside her top. She had not told him about her pierced nipples, and he seemed amazed at them. They kissed for a while long, he played with her breasts, and he pulled to top aside to expose both breasts and took them in his hands, his thumbs on her pierced nipples, pushing the rings up, as she unbuckled his pants and holding his cock kissed him for a while more and she leaned over started sucking him. After some moaning by both of them he stood up with her and they both stripped themselves. He touched her and she obediently put her on the couch with her knees on the seat, her head on the back, in a great doggie position with him standing behind her. He started fingering her, and started to fuck her that position but he wasn’t really hard, and when she noticed she took his hand and lead him upstairs to the bed.
Once there she told him he had to use a condom (which is obviously a big problem for him) so he did, with protesting, commenting several times about the two cameras I had set, and when I went downstairs for wine I just sat down and waited for a while.
When I came back up the stairs with the wine glasses in hand he was fucking my wife, her knees on his shoulders, pumping her hard and she was uttering a grunt every time he rammed home.
When I moved to the side with the camera, he lost his hard on again. We gave up and went to dinner and when he went to the restroom she told me that she wasn’t going to make him use a condom, that it was affecting his fucking.
When we got back he took a bit of Viagra and they cuddled until the sap started rising and he got hard with her stroking him. This time he started on her missionary style and moved her to doggie style, bareback. He fucked her like this until she had come a couple of time, and then he rolled her to her back an crawled between her legs. As he was fucking her he told her , “I want to cum inside you” and she told him that she wanted him to come inside her, and as he came she kept bucking back against him until he collapsed. The cuddled for must a minute and he quickly dressed and let himself out.
She was laying there naked, fresh fucked, and I stripped off my clothes and climbed on board. He could not have been back to his car when I lay down and she straddled my cock with no foreplay, her pussy wet with her juices and his come, and she asked me how I liked sloppy seconds and I stared talking back to her about her pussy filled with his come and how my come was going to fill it too, and she was rolling and in an orgasm as I did, and I came quicker that I anticipated, a draining come and she just lay there on top of me for a while before she rolled to her side and the movement pulled me out of her.
He left and I started fucking her, talking about sloppy seconds, about how her cunt was filled with cum and she got totally off on it.



This was in June, roughly one year and two months since the first time that she had first been fucked in front of me. This was the eighth night she had been with a black lover.