Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Cheating, Gang Bang, Interracial, Black Female, Black Male, White Male, White Female, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Slow, .
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - I should have known better than to challenge her.
I should have known better than to get into an argument with my wife. Past experience has shown that she will go to extremes to win, even if she ends up biting off her nose to spite her face, and that's just what happened here.
Leslie is an outspoken woman and she has an opinion on everything under the sun. Those opinions are strong and forceful and for the sake of peace and harmony I've learned to keep my mouth shut since I have never been able to change her mind on anything. The latest brouhaha came about at a cocktail party that her company was throwing for its customers. We were at a table in the center of the room and I noticed a tall, good looking black man circulating through the crowd and greeting people. I also noticed that while he had visited every table around us he had not even glanced our way. I asked Leslie who he was and she told me that his name was Tony and he was the head of accounting. When I mentioned that he seemed to be avoiding our table she said, "That's not surprising. He knows that I don't care for him."
"Why not" I asked, "He seems to get along with everyone else here."
She glanced in his direction and said, "He is an arrogant son of a bitch and I just don't like him."
I chuckled and said, "You don't like him because he's black" and the minute I said it I knew that I'd fucked up.
"And just what do you mean by that?" she demanded.
Well, once I take Leslie on I won't back off any more than she will so I said, "You know full well what I mean. You have a prejudice against blacks, it shows when you are around them and it makes them uncomfortable so they avoid you." This was a subject that I definitely should have avoided because she immediately got her back up.
"Bull! Give me one instance when I've shown prejudice against blacks," and I began ticking them off one by one on my fingers while she kept interrupting me to "explain" why she had done this, that, and the other.
"Okay" I said, "Go ahead and get Tony and bring him over to the table. Tell him you would like him to meet your husband."
She scowled at me, "No! I don't have to prove anything to you. I am not prejudiced!"
I should have just let it go, but I didn't. There were about six or seven blacks at the party and so I said to her, "Okay, let's go over and sit with them" and I pointed at a table where two black couples were sitting. But she had an excuse why we couldn't go sit with them so I pointed at another couple that was sitting alone. She said no to that to. "Face it Leslie, you are a bigot."
Now she was mad and she practically hissed at me "No I am not!"
"Okay" I said, "Prove to me that you are not."
She asked me how she could do that and I thought for a minute and then I said, " Ask Tony to lunch. Tell him that you sense that the two of you seem to be uncomfortable around each other and you thought that maybe you could sit down and discuss it over lunch. In the interest of work place solidarity and stuff like that."
She took the dare, "Okay, I will!" I sat there watching her and waiting for her to get up and go over to him, but she didn't. Finally she said, "What are you looking at?"
I smiled and said, "Just waiting."
"For what?" she wanted to know.
"For you to go ask him."
She gave me a nasty look; "I am not going to do it tonight. I'll do it at work tomorrow. It will be more natural."
I smiled to myself and made myself a bet that it would never happen.
Next night at dinner I asked Leslie how her lunch with Tony went and she told me that she had gotten so busy that she'd not had a chance to ask him. I kept on her about it for the next two or three weeks, asking her two or three times a week about her lunch with Tony, and I always got the same answer, she was just too busy to get around to it. Finally I said, "Leslie, just admit you are prejudiced against blacks."
"I am not!"
I grinned at her and said, "You are until you prove to me that you're not."
After that I stopped getting on her about Tony and nothing more was said until her company Christmas party. When we arrived I noticed that there were empty seats at the table where Tony was sitting and I pointed to the table and said, "Let's sit there."
She shook her head and said, "No. I don't want to sit there."
I chuckled and said, "I knew you would say that."
She gave me a nasty look and hissed, "Damn you! I am not a bigot!" and then she took me by the arm and led me to a different table. I decided to shut up on the subject and just sit back and enjoy the party, but about an hour and a couple of drinks into it Leslie said, "You still think I'm prejudiced, don't you?"
I shrugged and said, "I know you are."
She looked me right in the eye and said, "What do I have to do to prove you wrong?"
This should be fun, I thought, and I began looking around the room for what I hoped would be there, and there it was, down near the end of the bar. "Tell you what," I said, "There are eight black guys here tonight. You dance with any three of them, or get one of them under the mistletoe" and I pointed to the end of the bar, "and kiss him and I'll never mention it again."
Leslie gave me a look that said as plain as any words could have; "You'll pay for this!" Three or four drinks later Leslie got up and started to circulate and she finally ended up at a table where a black couple and a single black man were sitting. A few minutes later the single man got up and escorted Leslie out onto the dance floor. The band was playing a slow waltz and Leslie moved in close to the man and over his shoulder she shot me a glance that said, "Fuck you!" When the dance was over she went back to the table with the man and sat down and had a drink with them. A few minutes later she got up with the other man and they moved out onto the dance floor. Again, it was a slow one and she moved close to the man and I saw his hand slide down to her ass. This should get interesting I thought, and I waited for her to slap him or at least pull away, but she didn't. I did see her look my way to see if I was watching, and I could tell that she was planning on teaching me a lesson, (I'll teach you to doubt me, damn you).
Back to the table with the man after the dance and another drink with them and then a white guy asked her to dance and then one or two more and then another black guy, which gave her the three I'd challenged her to. But she wasn't through putting me in my place yet. She came over to our table and said, "Come on. Were going to join them." When we got over to their table they had put five tables together and we ended up with twenty-three people sitting there, including two more black men, one of whom was Tony. More drinks and pretty soon Leslie had danced with every guy at the table except Tony. I was being social and I was dancing with the wives and girlfriends of the guys at the table, and outside of an occasional dance with Leslie I wasn't paying much attention to her anymore. She had already danced with every black man there (except Tony) thereby proving to me that she was not a bigot (even though I knew she was - all she'd done was take a dare).
I was dancing with Sylvia, the girl friend of one of the guys at the table, and she said to me, "You seem like a nice guy. Can I ask you something?"
"Sure" I said, "Go ahead."
"What's your wife trying to prove tonight?"
I looked down at her and said, "I don't know what you mean."
Sylvia said, "For three years, as long as I've been with the company, she has gone out of her way to avoid minorities. Tonight all of a sudden, she's dancing with them and has even gotten kissed under the mistletoe by a few."
That surprised me, as I hadn't seen it. "Maybe she is just trying to correct some misconceptions," I said.
"Bull shit!" she fired back. "I've been watching you watch her all night and there is something going on and I'm a curious kitten; I want to know what it is."
I probably should have ignored her question, but I'd had just enough booze in me to loosen me up and I kind of liked Sylvia so I told her. Sylvia said, "How about you? You got any prejudice in you?"
I smiled at her, "None that I am aware of."
She smiled back and said, "Prove it. Dance me over to the mistletoe and kiss me."
I took it as a dare and I waltzed her over to it and bent to give her a brief kiss on the lips, but her hands came up and held my head as she pushed the tip of her tongue in to my mouth and I slipped my tongue into hers. What was supposed to be a brief peck on the lips turned into something very, very steamy. Sylvia broke the kiss and gave me a strange look, "We'd better get back to the table," she said.
"Why? The music is still playing?"
She grinned, "I know, but doing a waltz with you while you have that lump in your pants would be difficult for me" and I suddenly became aware that I did indeed have a stiffy. I think I might have blushed because Sylvia giggled and took my hand and led me back to the group. For the next half-hour or so Sylvia sat next to me talked with me and teased me unmercifully. Finally she reached over and squeezed the lump in my pants (her teasing had kept me hard) and asked, "Have you figured it out yet?"
I gave her a questioning look and she said, "Have you figured out what's going on?"
I shrugged and said, "What?"
"Why I'm teasing you?" I looked at her and she said, "Look around. What do you see?" I looked around the room, but I couldn't pick up on what she after so I looked back at her and shrugged again. "What you don't see is your wife. She hasn't been here for over half an hour."
I took another look around and did not see Leslie so I turned back and asked her what she was trying to tell me. I had trouble believing what she told me, but the facts were that Leslie wasn't in the room. Apparently Leslie's attitude at the party had registered on the black guys (and some whites) and they couldn't figure out the sudden change in her. They got together and decided to see if they could make it work to their advantage. The black guys had each thrown fifty bucks into a pot and it was winner take all. To be the winner all you had to do was be the first guy to fuck Leslie. And there was more. There were several side bets between some of the white guys and the black guys on whether or not it could be done. The white guys were betting that the black guys couldn't, while hoping that they could, because if the black guys could then the white guys thought they would have a shot at making her.
"My job was to keep you occupied so they could work on hustling your wife."
The tone of her voice when she said that made me look at her; "Do you hate her that much?" I asked.
"You bet. She passed me over for a promotion even though I was the most experienced and best qualified. The only thing I had going against me was the color of my skin."
"So why are you telling me this now?" I wanted to know.
She stroked my cock again and said, "Two reasons. She and Tony have been gone for long enough for him to have done the deed, and I want a touch of revenge for myself. I want to fuck her husband," she gave my dick another squeeze, "And he just might be willing now that he knows what his wife has been up to."
My cock gave an involuntary twitch when Sylvia said that and she giggled, "Was that because you want a taste of my brown sugar, or is it because the thought of a black cock sliding into your wife is a turn on?"
To be honest about it, I think it was a little bit of both.
It was another twenty minutes before I saw Leslie walk back into the room and about five minutes later Tony came in. I looked closely at Leslie but I couldn't see any thing that would tell me one way or the another if she had done anything or not. I danced the next dance with her, "Having fun?" I asked.
She tucked her head into my shoulder and said, "I'm having a blast. I'm really glad we came."
Over her shoulder back at the table I saw one of the guys hand Tony a wad of money. When the dance was over we went back to the table and Leslie had another drink and a few minutes later a guy asked her to dance. While she was out on the floor I leaned over to Sylvia and said, "I saw one of the guys hand Tony a bunch of money. Does that mean what I think it means?"
She grinned at me and asked, "How bad do you want to find out?"
I asked her what she meant and she said, "If she did and I give you my phone number, will you call?"
Why not, I thought, what did I have to lose? Over the next half-hour I danced with a few other wives and girlfriends and I saw Tony dancing with Sylvia. I also saw Leslie under the mistletoe with one of the black guys and it was no peck on the lips that she was getting (or giving). I noticed the guy had a hand on her ass and their loins seemed to be pressed together, but I couldn't be sure about that from my angle. A minute or so later I saw Leslie leave the ballroom and a minute or so after that the guy she had been kissing went out. When the band took a break I walked the woman I had been dancing with back to the table and then I went and sat down beside Sylvia. I gave her an inquiring look and she said, "Are you sure you want to hear this? Knowing could be a bitch. You could just let it go and write it off to me bad mouthing her because I don't like her."
I told her that I wanted to know and she said okay, but remember our deal and she handed me a piece of paper with her phone number on it. I remembered our agreement and I folded the paper and put it in my pocket. "He did her on the back seat of your car. It took him almost a half an hour to get her there, but he said it was worth it."
Until then I wasn't sure that anything that I'd heard from Sylvia might be true, but I had seen Leslie come in followed by Tony and I'd just seen her leave followed by another black man. A black man who I'd just seen her in a passionate embrace with. "Would Tony lie about something like that?"
"Honey, Tony is my brother and we tell each other everything. He doesn't lie to me and I don't lie to him. If he said he got into your wife's panties, he did!"
I was quiet for a minute and then asked, "Does he know that you're telling me this?"
She laughed at me and said, "Honey, I told you we tell each other everything. I told him how you dared her to prove she wasn't a bigot and he told me that you can find all the proof you need on the center of the seat on the right side of the back seat in your car."
I sat there in silence because I didn't have any idea of what to say and then she said, "There is more, if you want to hear it." I nodded at her to go ahead. "Tony doesn't think she's spread for anybody else yet, but she has been doing some pretty heavy necking with some of the guys and she has given out one hand job that Tony knows about. He thinks she has sucked the cock of another, but he's not sure."
The image of the guy following Leslie out of the ballroom flashed through my mind.
"I'll tell you the whole story honey, word for word, move by move of what the two of them did and what Tony finds out from the other guys, but only after you call me."
I gave her a weak smile and then concentrated my attention on the ballroom entrance. Thirty minutes later Leslie came back in and the man who had followed her out came in about a minute or so behind her. If there had been any doubt in my mind over whether Sylvia had been telling me the truth it was gone now. As the evening drew to a close I kept asking myself what I should do, how I should handle the situation. On the one hand I had every reason to believe that my wife had been unfaithful to me, possibly several times. On the other, I had egged her into it; pushed her into the situation that made it happen. I knew she would go to any lengths to win an argument with me, but I'd no idea she would go that far. What if I did say something and all she did was some necking? All I had to go on was seeing her leave the room and come back and what Sylvia had told me; and Sylvia did not like Leslie and didn't bother to hide it. I decided to keep quiet and see what Leslie had to say.
We got in the car to leave and Leslie slid over next to me like she used to when we were teenagers. She reached over and placed her hand on my cock and said, "I really, really hope you are in the mood tonight honey because I'm hot enough to fuck a whole bunch of guys."
Interesting way to put it I thought, especially since I already suspected that she might have done just that. She reached over and took one of my hands and put it between her legs, "Feel how wet I am" and she was definitely that. I also notice that she didn't have her panties on and I mentioned it. "That's because I wanted your fingers in me on the way home."
"What's made you so horny?" I asked.
"Haven't you been watching me tonight? Damn near every guy there got me under the mistletoe and most of them felt me up when they kissed me." She giggled, "I got even with some of them. I squeezed their cocks while they had their hands on my ass." She giggled again, "I never realized the guys I work with could be so much fun."
I wondered what she really meant when she said that. "Do you still think I'm a racist?" I glanced at her and said that she did what I'd asked her to do and I had no intention of mentioning the matter again. "Yes baby, but I could have just been taking a dare. What if I told you that I did something on my own, something you didn't tell me I had to do?"
Sweet Jesus, I thought, she really did do it and now she's going to rub my face in it. I concentrated on keeping my shaking hands gripped tight on the steering wheel and she said, "Yep! I did something on my own. I'm having lunch with Tony tomorrow."
Damn, does that mean she's going to fuck him again? When we got home and I was getting out of the car I glanced at the back seat. In the center of the right side of the seat was a spot that hadn't been there that morning. As I shut the car door I remembered the slip of paper that Sylvia had given me. I reached into my pocket to make sure I still had it.