The English Are Put in Their Place
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Fiction, Slut Wife, Wimp Husband, Cuckold, Wife Watching, DomSub, MaleDom, Light Bond, Gang Bang, Interracial, Black Male, White Female, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A happily married, successful young couple finds release when a new man starts working at the wife's office and begins to take over. There are a couple of brief descriptions of M/M sex in this story that some might find offensive. But that isn't what the story is about and there is not enough of it that I felt I should put it in the story codes.
I did a terrible thing yesterday. Something I knew that I would never do. It was something that I had never even been tempted to do before. I cheated on my husband. As horrible as that is, it's only half of the problem. The other half of the problem is that I don't feel guilty. Well, maybe a little. But not so guilty that I won't do it again. Because it was so exciting! It was the best sex that I have ever had! Actually, I guess there are three halves to the problem. I guess I should explain.
My name is Paula English. I am twenty-eight years old. I have been married to Jarrod for six years. I am 5'2" and weigh 102 pounds. I have dark red hair and a figure that turns men's heads, though my breasts aren't huge. My bra is a B cup but I am very slender so my very perky breasts look larger. I work out for an hour after work almost every night in the company gym and I am in very good shape.
Jarrod and I met not long after I started work after college. We worked for the same firm. He started work a year before me. He is a year older and he graduated a year before I did. Jarrod is the perfect husband. He is 6'1" and weighs 170 pounds. He has dark blonde, almost brown hair. He is in good shape. He has a swimmer's body. He isn't muscular but he is very fit. He is kind and gentle and considerate and he never forgets an anniversary or a birthday.
We started dating not long after I started working at Anderson and Sons. We kept it quiet. The company has a strict non fraternization policy. But we had been attracted to each other immediately and we really didn't care what the policy was.
It might have gotten to be a problem as things progressed between us. But not long after we started dating, Jarrod got an offer from another firm that nearly doubled his salary and the benefits were outstanding. He liked working at Anderson's. But it solved all of our problems when he took the new job.
We would no longer be able to ride back and forth to work together. But since he now had a company car and a company gas credit card it wasn't that big a deal. Besides, we were both making pretty good money now. I was only making half of what Jarrod was. But it was still a damn good salary, especially for someone just out of school.
As the years passed we both worked our way up the ladder at our respective firms. Jarrod was on the fast track though. In five years he was in upper management and on the verge of becoming a vice president. He was making so much money that I didn't need to work. We had talked about it though and I enjoyed my job. Maybe later, if and when kids came along, maybe then I would stay home. But not now, not yet.
Jarrod and I were still very much in love. We still went out fairly regularly. We ate dinner together as often as possible. But his company was occupying more and more of his time as he played the game to get ahead.
He often had to work until late in the evening. He played golf nearly every Saturday, whether he wanted to or not. And at least once a month there was a poker game that he didn't dare miss. In other words, I was spending a hell of a lot of my evenings home alone.
I didn't blame my husband. I understood perfectly. It was the price we paid for living in a huge home on the lake that was now worth in excess of a million dollars, driving a luxury car and having a boathouse full of very expensive marine toys. Jarrod's salary was rapidly approaching one million a year with the perks. I understood that he had to play along to get ahead.
I was still lonely though. And, not to be too crude, I frequently went to bed horny. That led to more and more frequent masturbation and you can't have masturbation without fantasies. I suppose that those fantasies are partly to blame for what happened.
It started on the internet. Like most people now, I have a list of people that I keep in touch with through email. But now that I was spending so much time alone I found myself spending much more time on the internet.
I wasn't into chatting or what they call netsex. Unlike many women though, I am very susceptible to visual stimulation. Before I would masturbate I would go to a few sites that I found and look at pictures of naked men. I loved looking at those big, virile, well hung, gorgeous hunks. Then I would go to my room and get out my vibrator and start fantasizing while I masturbated until my arms hurt.
My routine began to change though. One day I brought my vibrator with me and masturbated while looking at the pictures and imagining ... well, you know what I was imagining.
Then one day, I had already had several very nice orgasms and I was just relaxing, still in front of the computer. I scrolled down to the end of the page and did something that I seldom do. I clicked on a link to another site that sounded interesting.
This new site was different. It wasn't just pictures. There were stories. You may find this hard to believe, but I had never read stories like these before. I knew of their existence of course. But they had just never interested me. But since I was here, and I was bored, well, what the hell!
I clicked on a story and skimmed over it. I wasn't impressed. It was puerile and although it was about a kind of immature sex it was not in the least erotic. Worse yet, it was full of typographical errors and misspellings which made it nearly impossible to read.
I tried another and it was only slightly better. The third story I opened was just plain disgusting and I was going to give up and go to bed. But then a title caught my eye and I thought, "Okay, just one more."
The story started out slowly, but I was impressed with the setup and the character development. This guy was no Hemmingway. But his story was definitely a cut above the previous stories I had looked at. I soon found myself reading just because I was curious about the characters. Before I knew it I had been sucked into the story. Even though it was very long, I couldn't stop reading! The story was seventy or eighty pages long but it was like a book you can't put down.
It wasn't just a good story. It was extremely erotic. It was about things that I had never considered erotic before. But as I read I found myself imagining myself in the position of the woman in the story and I spent the next two hours reading as quickly as my eyes could scan the page with my vibrator back between my thighs. This guy is good! I think I have a new favorite author.
The story was about a naïve young woman who was blackmailed by a biker. He had found some incriminating pictures and chat logs that he had access to because he worked for her internet service provider. He did terrible things to that poor woman. He humiliated her and degraded her and shared her with friends and strangers alike. It was awful! And as I read it I had one huge orgasm after another imagining that I was that poor young woman.
By the time I finished the story it was after midnight and I was exhausted. I did something then that I had never done before. I emailed a stranger.
The author of the story had posted his email address and invited comments from readers. On the spur of the moment, in the afterglow of several great orgasms, I emailed him and told him how much I had enjoyed his story and thanked him for all of the effort that he had put into it.
After I sent the email I put my computer to sleep and went to bed. Jarrod didn't get home from his Saturday night poker game until after I was asleep.
On Sunday I made breakfast and then Jarrod went to his study to do something or other. We no longer had chores around the house. We had a woman that came in and cleaned and did the laundry. We had a couple of men that did the yard work and another man that cleaned the pool.
After I cleaned up the breakfast dishes I went and checked my email. I was surprised to find a reply from the author whose story I had so enjoyed last night. I almost didn't open it. I expected that he was some dirty old man and he wanted me to chat with him or send him a nude picture or something. But I was curious so I opened it.
It was a very short, very polite response to my email. He thanked me for taking the time to write and he directed me to the site where his stories were archived in case I wanted to read any more of them.
I most certainly wanted to read more of them! That man was responsible for one of the most sexually satisfying evenings of my life!
I clicked on the link in his email and I was surprised to find more than fifty stories, all by the same author! Pay dirt! He had re-edited and reposted most of his stories. There were also several newer stories.
There were stories about all sorts of things, some of them pretty nasty. I looked through the story codes and picked out one of the milder ones and opened it. I saved the story. I book marked the site and closed my browser. Then I tried to decide if I wanted to read this while my husband was home. If this story was anything like the one I had read last night I would want to read it with my vibrator running.
I thought that maybe I would just read a page or two and see if it was as interesting as the first one that I had read. But just then Jarrod called me on the intercom and said that he was going next door for a while.
As if he wasn't already gone from my life often enough, he often spent much of Sunday afternoon either next door watching sports with our neighbor or down in our home theater room, again, with the neighbor watching sports. But today, for a change, I was anxious for him to leave.
I got up and pushed the intercom button and told him to have fun. Then I got out my vibrator, pulled off my shorts and sat down. I was quickly sucked into the story. Once more it started slow with excellent character development and just the right amount of plot development. By page five I was hooked.
This new story was about a man who bought a house out of bankruptcy that had been owned by a young couple who had both lost their jobs when the place they worked closed up. When he went to inspect his property he found them hiding in the house. He offered them a chance to get their lives back on track. In exchange the couple would both become his sex slaves.
The sex was very good in this story. But it was the character development that made it work. I found myself really caring what happened to these people! And once more the situations and the way the author described the emotions and the reactions of the couple to the nasty things that he made them do were incredibly erotic. They weren't always realistic. In fact, they were often very implausible. But he just seemed to make it work.
I was hooked now. Soon I was spending every free moment on the computer. I spent a few minutes checking my email and an hour or two reading those stories and going through batteries in my vibrator like you wouldn't believe.
I had gone back and downloaded all of the stories he had posted and I kept them in their own file.
It took me almost two months to vibrate my way through those stories. I saved the most depraved stories for last. But I even had to read those. I couldn't help it. I had to have more of his stories.
I kept checking back on the site and I noticed that he was adding a new story about once a week. I was relieved that he was adding new stories. But one story a week was not going to be enough!
I had read about things that I could never even have contemplated before I discovered those stories. I read and was turned on by stories of rape, gang rape, bondage, blackmail, interracial sex, even incest! And I'm an only child!
There were parts I didn't care for. I had to skim over things like sex with animals and women being peed on. But I read and was turned on by nearly everything else, even the things that shocked me.
I was actually depressed when I finally reached the end of the archive. I started back at the beginning again and started re-reading some of my favorites. But I checked back nearly every day to see if he had posted a new story.
It was at that needy point in my life when someone new started working in my office. He wasn't new with the company. He had been brought in from one of the satellite offices. I was going to be working closely with him so when he showed up one Monday morning I was given the task of orienting him and introducing him around.
His name was Blakely Thornton but he wanted to be called Blake. He had a very slight accent. He had been born in England and lived the first ten years of his life there. He had just enough of an accent left to be fun to listen to. He was handsome and extremely intelligent. He was tall and when he took his suit coat off it was obvious that he worked out. Wow!
He had a beautiful smile. He was reserved, but still quite personable. People took to him instantly, including me. Oh, and he was black.
As I escorted him around and introduced him the women were going crazy over him. When he met them he was always polite, but nothing more. And when we got back to our office he was all business. He wasn't rude or unfriendly you understand. But he didn't flirt or kid around. He was there to do a job and he didn't seem to be interested in the ladies at all.
I checked. He wasn't wearing a ring. But he didn't talk about himself much. I didn't know if he was married or not.
We got along just great. I really enjoyed working with him. The day passed so quickly that I was surprised when I heard people starting to go home for the evening. I found out that he was living in a hotel and eating in restaurants, and that he was single. I insisted that he come home and have dinner with Jarrod and me.
He was reluctant to impose but I wouldn't take no for an answer. He finally gave in and followed me home.
On the way home I called my husband and he promised to be home on time since I was having company. When we got to the house I found a pair of trunks for Blake and changed into my bikini, with a wrap of course. I made us both a drink and started supper. Once I had supper cooking we sat out by the pool and talked, taking the opportunity to get better acquainted.
Just before Jarrod got home, Blake asked if he could check his email on our computer. He was waiting for word from his realtor on a condo he looked at this past weekend. Jarrod is very touchy about anyone using his computer so without thinking I directed Blake to mine.
It was not until I saw the funny look on his face when he returned to the table that I suddenly realized that I had two stories by my favorite author open and minimized on my computer.
Oh Christ! He must have seen what I was reading! I hurriedly rose to get us fresh drinks. While I was doing that I snuck upstairs and looked at my computer. One of the stories, a story about a young woman about my age being raped and abused by black men, was open. I know that I had minimized it when I was done masturbating to it last night.
I went back and picked up the drinks. I took a deep breath and went out to rejoin Blake. It was still half an hour before my husband was due home and I suddenly felt very uncomfortable with my dinner guest. I knew that he had just gotten a glimpse into one of the darker areas of my mind.
He never said a word though. He had a vaguely knowing look in his eye. But he steered the conversation to work, and innocent questions about my life and my husband. I tried to act as if I didn't know that he had looked at the story and had a special insight into my fantasies.
I relaxed a little when Jarrod got home and joined us. They got along great and while they talked I was free to finish getting supper ready. I began to notice something funny when I listened in on their conversations though. Although the two men were approximately the same age, Blake was talking to Jarrod as though he was a much younger and less experienced man, as if he were somehow subservient to him.
He wasn't being rude or anything. And it didn't look like Jarrod even realized that he was doing it. But it was obvious to me that Blake was acting like the alpha male and their conversation was not one of give and take between two equals. Or maybe my interpretation was skewed by my fears of what Blake must think of me now.
After dinner and a bottle of wine we all seemed to loosen up a little. We went for a swim and I found myself torn between wishing that I had worn a more modest swim suit and enjoying the way that Blake was looking at me. We stood together in about three feet of water and talked quietly while Jarrod went inside to check his email. I was aware of how much attention that Blake was paying to my body now. I was nearly as fascinated by his strong, smooth, muscular body.
As we stood against the side of the pool the conversation was becoming more personal and every now and then Blake would touch me as we talked. Not anything I could object to. His hand would rest on mine. Or his fingers would lightly touch my shoulder. Once he held a curl of my red hair in his fingers and admired it. It was all very innocent. But I found myself tingling at his touch.
Jarrod had apparently gotten caught up in something in his study and we were left alone for a long time. Our conversation continued innocently for much of that time. Right up until Blake said, "I find your choice of reading material fascinating. I was really surprised when I saw that story that you were reading. I would have thought that you were much too uptight for that sort of thing."
I blushed until my skin was as red as my hair! I tried desperately to think of something that I could say to make it seem more innocent, or better yet make it so that it had never happened.
Finally I could only shrug and say, "They are just fantasies that get me through the long evenings at home alone. Your first impression was correct. I actually am much too uptight for that sort of thing."
He smiled and replied, "Really?"
His hand touched my shoulder again and this time he let it rest there.
I shuddered at his touch, but for some reason I said nothing as he rested his hand on my suddenly very sensitive skin.
As we continued talking, his hand moved gently over my neck and shoulders and down my back. He never put it anywhere that was inappropriate. It was never quite a caress. But even so, I felt the warmth of his hand moving right through me. It was nearly as exciting as if he had placed it on my ass or reached under the water and cupped my vulva possessively.
I think that he knew it too. He was no longer talking to me the way that he had been, as a co-worker, an equal. He was no longer the new man at the office, unsure and eager to learn. Now he was slipping into the alpha male role with me too. It was subtle, but we were both aware of it. And we were both aware that for some reason I was letting it happen.
We had been standing there talking quietly for quite a while. His hand had come to rest on the small of my back, just above the curve of my ass. I felt myself tingling all over from his touch. I even felt my nipples becoming erect. I was thankful for the liner in my bra. Even with the liner though, I am pretty sure that he could tell that my nipples were now standing straight up.
Then the hammer dropped. He asked, "Have you ever had sex with a black man?"
I was shocked that he would ask. Even if he had seen what I was reading, his question was still way out of bounds. But not only did I not tell him off, which is what I should have done. I actually answered him!
I replied, "No, Blake. I ... no."
I was furious with myself for letting him talk about these things this way. But I found that I was powerless to defend myself. I seemed to be totally unable to speak up to him.
Just then the patio door opened and Jarrod came back out. I took a deep breath and thought, "Thank god!" I was certain that with my husband here Blake would behave himself.
Blake smiled as Jarrod came over and set two more drinks down on the side of the pool for us. He apologized for being away so long. He had an email from his boss that he had to take care of. Then he went over to the table and sat down and sipped his drink and watched us.
Blake never took his hand off of the small of my back! He sucked me back into that intimate conversation with my husband sitting nearby, just out of hearing, but watching quietly.
I kept expecting Blake to come to his senses and remove his hand or Jarrod to say something, anything to break us up. Instead, Blake quietly said, and it wasn't a question, it was a statement, "It turns you on, though. The idea of being taken by a black man and being treated like the women in those stories really excites you."
His hand slipped down and cupped my ass then, just for a few seconds. He squeezed it gently and then slowly returned his hand to the small of my back.
And I never said a word!
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Jarrod watching. It was dark. But our pool was brightly lit and he had to have seen Blake's dark hand against my skin as it slid down slowly and then back up to come to rest once more on the small of my back.
I didn't know if I was more shocked with Blake's actions or Jarrod's inaction!
Blake didn't wait for me to answer. He said, "I checked the directory that you keep that story in. You have a lot of those stories. You have all of those fantasies whirling around in your pretty little head."
He paused for a second and then he asked, "I wonder what your husband would think about you getting fucked by a black man?"
I gasped in shock at what he had just said and the way that he had said it. But even so, a tremor of excitement had passed through my body like a bolt of lightning.
Following closely on that shock, Blake's hand once more slid down to rest on my ass. This time he left it there. I turned to look at Jarrod, sitting there watching and smiling innocently. He must surely see where Blake's hand is! What was wrong with him?!
What was wrong with me?! Why was I permitting this man I had just met to say these things to me? Why was I permitting this man to rest his hand on my ass? I may enjoy those kinky stories I have been reading. But I had no desire to experience those things!
I look a big sip of my drink. I noticed that Jarrod had made stronger than usual and I started to wonder if he knew about my fantasies and was trying to loosen me up. But no, that wasn't possible. It must have just been a coincidence.
I turned to Blake and hissed, "Blake! You have to stop this! Please take your hand away."
But I sounded weak and ineffectual even to me. Blake ignored me and I made no attempt to remove his hand or step away from him.
I was shocked when I realized that I was getting short of breath and my skin was tingling. I was having trouble thinking straight.
After pausing long enough to make it clear that he was in charge here, not me, Blake took his hand away and smiled at me. He said, quite calm and totally in control, "It's getting late. I should be heading back to my hotel now. Thank you for a wonderful dinner, Paula. I'm going in and change now."
He climbed out of the pool and as he stepped out onto the deck I saw that he had a huge bulge in the front of his trunks. As he passed by I saw Jarrod notice it too. But Jarrod's expression never changed.
I remained where I was for several minutes. I was shocked. I was confused. And I was furious with myself because I realized that I was incredibly horny.
I picked up my glass and Blake's still full glass and got out of the pool. I joined Jarrod at the patio table. Neither of us said a word for a long time.
Blake came out fully dressed a few minutes later. He shook Jarrod's hand and said goodnight. He thanked me again for the meal. Then he thanked Jarrod for his generous offer and he left.
Jarrod walked him out. I was too dumbstruck to move.
When Jarrod finally returned I asked, "What generous offer did he thank you for?"
Jarrod smiled and said, "I offered him the use of our mother-in-law suite until he found a place to live."
I stared at him in shock. I almost asked him why he hadn't said anything when Blake had rested his hand on my ass. The only reason that I didn't was that I would have had to explain why I had permitted it. Still, I was unable to think of anything else. The feel of Blake's hand on my ass was still fresh in my mind. It had been very exciting. But what on earth had possessed Jarrod to sit there and smile while he watched that large, self assured black man rest his hand on my ass?!
I wanted desperately to ask. But until I could explain why I had stood there and submitted to him there was nothing that I could say.
Oh my god! I just realized what I had done! I had submitted just like one of those women in those stories! I wonder how far I would have let him go. I wonder how far Jarrod would have let him go.
We went up to our room and as soon as we got in bed Jarrod was all over me. He attacked me with more ardor than he had shown since our honeymoon. I realized that I was just as aroused as he obviously was. And I knew why. I guess this answered my earlier questions. Jarrod had permitted Blake to touch me because it aroused him!
That raised a thousand more questions. But it seemed like I was the only one with the questions. Soon after our unusually passionate lovemaking ended I returned to bed from cleaning up to find Jarrod sound asleep.
I should have said something then. I should have shaken him and woke him up. I knew that I wouldn't be able to ask any of these embarrassing questions in the light of day.
On the other hand, I didn't see how I could just forget about what had happened tonight. Some things were self evident. I had been turned on by a dominant black man this evening, a man that I had just met and hardly knew.
But just as amazing, my husband had watched Blake touch me and there was no question that it had really turned him on. When he had invited Blake to live with us, did he have an ulterior motive? How far did he want this to go?
I doubt if I got more than three or four hours sleep that night. But I did sleep. I know I slept because the dreams I experienced that night could have been written by my new favorite author.