I’d never really been obsessed with black men, the way some white women are. Sure, Nick and I watched a lot of inter-racial porn on the internet, usually on a Saturday night when the kids were at Nick’s Mom’s, but there is just so much of it, it was hard to avoid. We could pass a very pleasant evening in front of the monitor, sipping drinks, with his hand down my panties and my hand stroking his meat. It reminded us of our courting days and it would usually end up with a very nice fuck when we finally hit the sack. By that time he’d be hard as a rock and I’d be dripping.
I wasn’t infatuated with big cocks for one thing. Those monsters that hung halfway down a guy’s thigh and looked as if they’d need a crane to get erect actually scared me. They looked so uncomfortable, despite the yelps of pleasure the actresses gave as they were forced into their tight little twats. I should have noticed that Nick kept navigating to the IR sites but, as I’ve said, I just wasn’t interested in the color or size of the appendages on offer, I just liked seeing pretty people fucking. What I did notice, if anything, was that many of these inter-racial encounters were between married women and their black lovers, and often with the encouragement and approval of their husbands. I don’t know if that’s what put the thought into Nick’s head, because we didn’t really talk a lot about sex, we just did it. Something to do with our upbringing I suppose. Not exactly repressed, just that we kept our fantasies, if we had any, strictly inside our own heads.
Anyway, Nick’s boss at the plant where he worked was a black guy called Byron. Byron was about ten years older than Nick with a little grey at the temples and maybe a couple of inches taller. He was a good-looking guy with a wide smile that could light up a room. Always, smiling, always laughing, always joking, I liked him, but not in that way, for no other reason than I didn’t think about other men. Not real other men anyway, just the usual movie stars and stuff. I’d been faithful to Nick since we married twelve years ago and had no intention of cheating on him.
Hell, I’m telling you all this stuff and I haven’t even introduced myself. My name is Miranda, though everybody calls me Mindy. I’m 34 years old and have two kids, I have short blonde hair, I’m five six and weigh around one twenty pounds. I have a fairly average body, not fat and not too busty or too hippy. Basically, I’m as average as they come. Nick tells me he likes me the way I am and how sexy I am, so he’s not interested in other women. He follows Paul Newman’s adage of ‘why go out for hamburger when you’ve got steak at home’, sensible man. It’s good for a woman’s ego to know she’s regarded as steak. Unless her husband’s a vegetarian, of course!
Anyway, one evening Byron had been over for dinner as he and his wife had split up and Nick was trying to curry favour with him as there was a promotion in the offing. It wasn’t sneaky or anything, everybody was doing it and Byron was well aware of what was going on. The general feeling was that Byron would give the promotion to the guy whose wife fed him best. That meant that my Nick had no chance, as I was an average cook at best.
After he’d left Nick said, “I bet Byron’s lonely in that big house now Marion’s gone.”
“Well he would be,” I agreed, “They were together a long time. Just lucky they didn’t have any kids and had a clean break.”
“He was looking at you, all through dinner.”
“No.”
“I’m telling you. His eyes were travelling all over you, undressing you.”
“You’re nuts!”
“He was trying to imagine what you’d look like naked.”
“Nick!” I squealed.
I was washing the dishes and he came up behind me, put his arms around my waist and pressed against me. I could feel his hardness against my ass.
“I think he’d like to fuck you.”
I tried to spin round but he held me fast and started pumping his crotch against my butt. “Fuck you with that big, black, cock of his.”
That night he fucked me very roughly, pounding into me as if I’d done something wrong and he wanted to extract revenge by battering my pussy. In truth his vigour excited me and I felt I deserved to be punished, if only because my juicy hole had betrayed me. I hadn’t consciously thought about being fucked by Byron, but obviously my pussy had. I came several times as Nick rammed into me, and each time I gave out a loud groan of pleasure and dug my fingernails into my husband’s back.
“Have you taken leave of your senses? The kids are right next door.”
“They won’t hear, they’re too busy with that game Byron brought them.”
I finally managed to push him off me and turned to face him. “Have you gone out of your mind? What’s brought all this on?”
“I’ve always fantasised about seeing you with a black guy.”
“Since when?” I asked.
“Since a long time, but seeing Byron eyeing you really brought it home.”
I looked down at his groin and just talking about it had given him an incredible boner.
“Well, it’s not going to happen,” I told him sternly, “so you can put that little fantasy back in your locker.”
“Why?” he asked, grabbing my crutch and squeezing my pudenda.
“Because I’m a married woman and I’m faithful to my husband,” I answered.
“I’ll bet you’re wet,” he said, “I’ll bet you’re wet just thinking about it.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“If you’re wet down there, you want it.”
I tried to fight him off, but he pushed me against the draining board and holding me with one hand, popped the button and unzipped my jeans with the other.
“Get off me, Nick!” I protested, but to no avail.
His free hand went under the waistband of my panties, over my pubic mound and down between my legs. I tried to keep my thighs tight shut but he managed to wriggle a finger between my lips and finally into my pussy. When he pulled it out and held it in front of my face it was slick with my juice and Nick just smiled at me.
He never said any more, just licked his finger and left me there, blushing to my roots, leaning against the worktop, with my jeans unzipped.
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