John Thompson had a framed photograph of his wife and kids on his office desk. The picture, professionally taken at a studio across town, never failed to remind the thirty nine year old Lawyer what a lucky man he was. Indeed, John often felt a surge of pride when a client or colleague commented on what a lovely family he had. His wife Marie was thirty four and as alluring and stylish as the picture suggested. She stood by her husband, smiling confidently in a designer white dress that clung well to her well kept and rousing figure. Beside her, John wore a suit and before them, seated upon an antique bench, Michael (7) and daughter Emily (4). All the Thompson's looked happy and contented. With a nice house and comfortable, middle-class, lifestyle the British family of four could want for little else.
Despite this, John, feeling so undeserving of what he had, hid a secret from his wife. He wished her to sleep with other men. Indeed, like many modern, white husbands, John wanted Marie 'Bulled Black'.
He just didn't know how to approach the topic with her, afraid she might leave him if he did. Even after her two young children, Marie Thompson was a stunning woman with extremely fine figure, well known for her charm, charity and broad, rather dark sense of humour. At thirty three she was elegant with striking, classical looks, light skin and dark hair that fell just past her slender shoulders. She was a 'Lady' and had always been confident in her body, working out regularly and keeping a neat, trim waist that lead up to a weighty, 34dd cleavage that looked as good in a bikini as a dinner dress. Marie always prided herself on being well dressed too, her bedroom wardrobe full of dresses, outfits and shoes that John lavished her with. While he liked her to look good, not for him, but for other men, she remained innocent of her husbands fantasies. As his lovely lady was putting his children to bed, John would sit in his study, chatting online to black men from all walks of life who had a specific liking for white, married women.
Over the last two years in particular John had developed a strong infatuation with begin cuckolded by a black man. He knew his white family made a perfect target for any like minded alpha male and appreciated how satisfying a bull would find it to fuck wife like Marie Thompson. Often, he would fantasise about a black clients fucking Marie over his desk while he carried out his work. Equally exciting to him was that she knew nothing of his interests and remained as loyal and perfect as ever. The locked drawer beside John's desk was always filled with interracial magazines and videos that if discovered at home would have surely horrified his wife. He had, despite contemplating it many times, never so much as built up the courage to ask Marie what she thought, much less explain to her what he wanted. During his idle hours John could imagine little more exciting and terrifying than offering up his own, well kept and highly desirable wife to a well endowed and dominant black man. She had no idea how much the man she loved wanted her used like a slut, stuffed and filled by hard cock.
Unsurprisingly, there were no shortage of men wanting to do just that, particularly when they set eyes on the lovely wife and mother. Over recent months John had even been giving out pictures and details of Marie, including, on request scans of her driving licence and passport. He always wanted to prove that she was 'real' and not some made up fantasy. At first, when asked for photographs of his wife, John had hesitated. It seemed wrong to share without her knowledge and was certainly a risk and a severe breaking of trust. Yet after the first time it became easier and John was amazed at how excited it made him feel. Wedding, holiday or family 'day out' photos followed. John enjoyed chatting to men who were experienced and dominant, particularly those who wanted to own and become part of a white family. Sex between husband and wife was regular and though John was a rather short performer, Marie always enjoyed being close with her husband, often telling him that size was not an issue for her. Despite her efforts John always felt that this was just her loving nature and more than ever, wanted a single minded, black male capable of fucking over not just his wife but his strong, healthy marriage too.
John had, in his emails the contact details of twelve black bulls with several, choice men he chatted to regularly. They were spotted up and down the country and ranged from those wanting their first white pussy to experienced 'wife fucker's' who had two or three married women on the go. Most ranged from early twenties to mid fifties although John had a sixty two year old whose proud intention was to one day make him watch while he rutted Marie bare on their marital bed. Each had been obtained from forums or advertisement pages on cuckold sites and though occasionally lured in with false promises, were captured by the white, woman in the photos. 'Sharing' Marie in this way was incredibly exciting to John and each 'Bull' was in agreement that Marie needed 'blacking' as soon as possible. Often they would question him on how he was going to make it happen. Indeed, John was often told that if he really wanted this, he should tell her and deep down, he knew it.
One night, John sat in his study deciding what to do. He had been chatting about Marie to a horny black stud that very afternoon and a tissue on the desk contained the results of another erotic discussion. Once again their wedding anniversary was approaching, signalling the end of another year. Yet he had made little progress with making his dream a reality. Did he really want this or was it just a deep seated fantasy? Everything he had read suggested that once done, there was no turning back. The relationship between husband and wife was changed forever and there was no guarantee matters would progress the way he imagined. John wanted regular black dick for his wife, not a divorce. How would such a question change Marie's opinion of him. Some other husbands had even warned him away from making it 'real' although in truth he was completely unsure of how she would even react when asked. John mulled it over and with a nod told himself that he did want this for himself. He loved his wife very much but this was something more. Not just for his benefit but hers too.
After a few stiff drinks he waited until Marie had put the children to bed then intercepted her on her way downstairs. By then he was feeling genuinely apprehensive.
'Honey?', he said, his mouth dry and voice already wavering. 'I need to talk to you'. She had looked concerned, seeing the look of caution on his face and perhaps fearing some hidden, bad news. She followed as he led her to their bedroom, sitting down next to him and taking his hand comfortingly. Her blouse was unbuttoned at the top, unintentionally revealing a glimpse of her full, white bra and firm cleavage as she leaned in assuredly.
'What is it John? You can tell me anything', she said, her smile warm and encouraging.
'Honey', he repeated, pausing and collecting his thoughts, unable as yet to even look his wife in the eye. How did he even begin to ask her. 'I want to know if you'd ever ... sleep with another man?'. John wanted to use to word 'fuck', as that was what he wanted. Somehow, rarely if ever used in the family home, it just didn't fit with his wife's aura. She was no angel but they never spoke to each other in such terms. Marie turned her head curiously and broke into a relieved smile.
'Of course not', she said, obvious relief in her voice. 'I'd never do that. God John! You know you really had me going there'.
'No, you don't understand', John answered, knowing this would be difficult. He thought of man he had just chatted too and knew he would be willing him on. Sweating, the thoughts of his recent online discussions made his cock start to harden. 'I'm asking WILL YOU?'. He watched as, after a short pause, the recognition set into his wife's face. She knew just what he was saying and relinquished hold of her husbands hand, her face draining of colour.
'Jesus John! I don't understand', she said quietly, shocked and partly appalled by her husband. She'd not seen this coming.
Quickly, John led her to his laptop and showed his stunned partner several interracial web-sites. As he tapped away on the keyboard Marie saw the words 'cuckold', 'slut wives' and 'black cock' on the screen. She had seen porn before when some of the girls at work had been fooling around online during their lunch. They had been in fits of laughter but now this was serious, like the look in her husbands eyes.
'This is Jamal', her husband said, small, profile pictures of the well muscled Essex based bull popping onto the screen. They had chatted for months about Marie. 'What do you think of him?'.
'What the hell do you mean?', she asked.
'I mean do you fancy him?'.
'Oh my God John', Marie gasped rolling her eyes and for a moment seemed she was about to walk out of the bedroom. This was ridiculous and her husband was clearly ill. No self respecting woman would even entertain the idea of getting involved in something as low as this, though John's behaviour had been strange recently. So much time alone in his office. Was this what he was doing?
'I think this would be really good for us a couple honey', he said, eagerness in his tone. A different black man appeared on screen, prompting Marie to finally turn away. It didn't matter how many he showed her.
'You think so? What about our marriage. I'm your wife John!'. For the first time there was a look of downright anger in his wife's face. The husband paused and clasped his hands. He was trembling with emotion.
'I know Hon. Just think about it ok?'.
Two weeks later Marie was getting ready for her usual fortnightly 'Girl's night out' in town. The group of friends had been going out for drinks every second Saturday now for about a year and it gave the women chance to let their hair down and leave their families behind for a few hours. There were eight of them in total, two were mum's from Michael and Clara's school, another from Marie's Aerobics class. John had always looked after the kids and tonight, the ritual was no different. He had said nothing about their 'talk' since and Marie was secretly hoping it stayed that way, a blip or phase that he'd get over soon. There was no way she could ever have sex with a complete stranger, especially some black pervert John had met over the internet. What kind of woman did that? John had tried to tell her that it was becoming more popular but Marie had never heard of it. Though she'd never have admitted it openly she saw herself as 'too good' for a coloured man anyway. Mixed race couples were very rare where they lived and always raised an eyebrow when she was out with her friends.
That night, as always, Marie had really made the effort. The group of women privately competed amongst themselves on fashion as well as their figures. Marie knew she was one of the best looking in the party, even if she was a little older than the bulk of them. She wore a new, dark purple, designer cocktail dress with a black belt that, while being classy, showed off her big tits and tight, trim figure too a tee. The dress came down to mid-thigh and her gave enough of a view of her toned, waxed legs which looked even better for some stiletto high heels. Diamond earrings and tiny, heart shaped locket finished the effect, a picture of her son and daughter within. Indeed John felt particularly proud as he dropped off his well presented wife in the busy centre of town.
'See you later Honey' he had said. 'Don't drink too much'.
'Bye honey'. 'I'll give you a call to pick me up later'.
As soon as John got home he got online. Seeing Marie dressed up like that had wetted his appetite as she had, once again, looked primed for black fucking. UrWife4Me had been one of the first of John's contacts and it was his name marked as 'Online' when John opened his viewing list. The thirty eight year old black Bull whose real name was Raul Curtis had always felt there something possible with the Thompson's. Like many, he preferred white, British women, even if his ex-wife had, like him, come from afro-Caribbean decent. John seemed to have a perfect home and family life and fucking his hot, perfect wife, would prove most satisfying. Raul had been 'Bull' to several other couples in the past, even fucking some women behind their husbands back. For him, it didn't really matter though thankfully, more white couples were seeking men like him out.
'Hi Sir. How's it going', John typed, eager as ever to please.
'Good thanks John'.
'No white pussy tonight?'.
'No lol. Really need to get my hands on that hot wife of yours'.
The black stud liked Marie a lot and had coerced a large collection of her photos from her husband. As he hardened up he brought a few of them up on his browser. She had a tight figure, great tits and legs. Whenever they chatted John always showed a real eagerness to be cuckolded and understood that fine women such as his wife deserved big, black dick. Subsequently, Raul had been most pleased to hear that the white husband had finally asked his wife if she would consider it. Even though she had said 'no' it was a big step and made him feel like he wasn't wasting his time. Giving up the wife often remained simple fantasy with many husbands.
'Lol, I know Sir', John added, his mouth dry. 'Would love to hand her over to you'.
'I know you would. I want to Bull that slut soon'.
'Yes Sir, I want you to use her'.
Raul opened a wedding photo of the married slut in her long traditional dress; beautiful white skin and loving smile, her chest neatly presented. She was such an upmarket lovely. All 9.5 inches were already straining and hard, the bulbous tip standing up through his open pants. He hadn't been lying about the lack of sex. One of his regular wives was out of town and his balls felt full and heavy, a deep desire to fuck something that sat deep in his gut.
'Where's Marie's fine, married ass tonight?' he typed.
'Derby, with friends'.
'Fuck ... you know I'm meeting a buddy in Derby's later'. John felt his head start to throb. He paused and thought for a moment. Was this co-incidence or fate? What should he do?
'Does your friend like white pussy too Sir?'.
'You know he does', replied Raul. There was a long pause as the two men weighed up the situation. 'Want me to go meet her?'. The question was more of a statement because the bull would do as he pleased. Even so John's head buzzed, the same as it had when he'd had his chat with Marie the previous week. There was potential here for disaster and he knew it.
'She likes the Laguna Bar' he typed as last. 'Will be with her friends'.
'We'll keep an eye out for her', typed Raul, tucking his big dick away.
The women moved from bar to bar. They talked and drank Wine, enjoying themselves as they always did. Eventually, they found themselves in the Laguna bar. It was one of Marie's favourites with a more mid thirties crowd and less kids trying to hit on them. She only smoked when she went out and was chatting and having a cigarette with two of her friends while the others danced. As the music blared popular classics they rotated around the usual stories of celebrity gossip, fashion and known acquaintances. A group of white men, likely a stag party entered the bar and began eyeing the women with drunken smiles. One in particular, a handsome man in his late twenties eyed Marie. Maybe it was the drink but she returned his look, flirting with a simple fantasy she would never pursue. She had been used to such attention all her life though the wedding ring, prominently displayed on her finger didn't seem to dissuade him.
At around eleven, Marie's best friend Suzie touched her shoulder and nodded towards two black men sitting at a window table.
'They've been staring at you since they got here', she said. 'You know them?'. The men couldn't help but stand out in the stylish, middle-class, white bar, even if both were well presented. One of them was bald headed and bulky with arms that suggested he worked out a lot and could easily handle himself. He carried himself in a lazy way, a little scary looking but extremely confident, a big arm stretched back behind the seat and a beer open on the table before him. The second was taller and wiry, maybe ten years older than the first with chin length, dreaded hair and lighter, caramel tone to his skin; a dark, smart shirt buttoned open to the mid chest. Like the first he was sat leisurely back, his gaze was fixed on the housewife.
'No', Marie replied shaking her head. 'I've never seen them before in my life'.
'There's something about them. Maybe we should leave'. Marie glanced at the group of white men who had taken a dislike to the pair, but seemed, sensibly, to be leaving them alone.
'It'll be fine. Just ignore them', she said.
Later, Marie was at the bar. The handsome white man had, after some encouragement from his friends offered to buy her a drink but she had politely refused and told him she was married. He had seemed content with that and had given a friendly smile and shrug towards his group. Something about his timid nature reminded her of her husband. So ready to give up. The bar was filling up and people were moving towards the downstairs club that had just opened. Suzie was keen to go in but it was getting late and John would be worrying. Marie took out her purse to pay for her drink when a deep voice said,
'get that for you?'. She began to smile once again and shake her head but when she looked up the face in front of her was the black man with dreaded hair. There was a slick smile on his thick lips and she flinched as he stood a little closer then she would have liked. In an all to familiar way he quickly gave her the once over, his narrow eyes bright and sharp. For a moment Marie paused, unsure of herself and the strange look on this man's unusual face. He was not handsome but there was certainly something alluring about him that could be deemed attractive to some.
'No really, I'm fine thank-you', she added politely. Paying the bartender she began to turn away and was confronted by the other man blocking her path. Again, this man's face was friendly but masked something sinister beneath the surface. Face to face with him the second man was huge, his arms thick and his chest muscles pushing through a thin shirt. Even on her high heels, he was four inches taller than Marie, his dark skin cool in the bar light.
'Good to meet you Marie', the second man said. His voice was thick and heavy with a local accent that suggested he came from the area.
'Do I know you?', she responded, flustered that he knew her name and glancing over at her friends table. Were they playing a joke on her?
'No', replied the man, 'but I'm hoping you'll get to know me and my friend here'. Giving her a wink Marie felt her heart flutter. There was something going on here and she didn't like not being in control. The way they both looked at her and their close proximity made her very uncomfortable. Feeling insecure, she glanced at the group of white men for help. The handsome one stepped forward but one look from the large black male and he stopped dead, knowing better than to intercede.
'I'm Raul, this here is Ricardo', he continued. The dreaded haired man lit a cigarette and offered her the packet. She shook her head. 'Have to say you look better in the flesh'.
'What do you want?', Marie asked, her brow furrowed. She didn't like the way they were staring at her and gasped with amazement as Ricardo traced a finger down her bare shoulder. The audacity was compounded as he licked his lips, eyes unashamedly looking down her neckline.
'You fancy a date baby?', he said. 'Your the best looking woman in here for sure'.
'Sorry, but I told you I'm married', Marie replied with a tone of finality and once again made to walk away.
'Oh I know you are Marie', Raul smiled. 'John right? I've been chatting to him about you for ages'.
'In fact I was chatting to him earlier. He told me just where to find you'.
Marie stood agape as from his pocket Raul produced a mobile phone. He tapped away on it for a moment then with a broad smile held it up for her to see. There on the screen, she was confronted by a clear photo of herself, taken the previous year on holiday in Greece; smiling broadly in a two piece swimsuit, hair wet on her shoulders.
'Great body you got Marie', Raul smiled flicking through several more just like it and enjoying the look of utter amazement on the housewife's face.
'Love those big tits', Ricardo chorused with a smirk. Helplessly Marie watched as Raul flicked through photo after photo. 'Damn I like this one!' he grinned, showing one of her on the beach with Michael and Clara. 'You one hot, white mum!'.
'How did you... !' she finally snapped able at last to speak. There had to be some explanation.
'Got em from your hubby' grinned Raul at last. 'He sure likes to show you off. What say we give him what he really wants and send you home to him black fucked?'.
Marie pushed past the men and staggered into to the ladies washroom. She was angry, so angry her head felt like exploding. Upset. Stunned. Turning on the tap she stood motionless, trembling slightly and for a second thought she was going to throw up. Her whole life and marriage up in the air. For a moment she saw her future, divorced, sharing the kids of weekends, explaining to them what a pervert their father was. God! How long had John been doing this and just how could be betray her confidence in such a way? How could such a man care about her at all? She recalled their recent conversation when he had asked her about sleeping with other men. Black men. Is this what he had eluded too? How had this happened? Just what else had John told other men about her? One of the photos had been her driving licence. They knew everything about her, even her address. Gasping she stared into the mirror and took several long deep breaths. She wasn't going to cry. From her purse Marie took a small photo, a miniature of the one on her husbands work desk. In it they all looked so happy. So contented. Marie composed herself. Eight years. Eight years of marriage.
Raul had just ordered two more beers from the bar. He felt a little let down and now wished he'd handled his first conversation with Marie more tactfully. After seeing and recognising her though, lust had taken over. Maybe it would have gone better if Ricardo hadn't been there staring down her dress. Marie had a high opinion of herself and Raul knew that new white wives needed to be handled with care. His friend just couldn't help himself when it came to upmarket white pussy. Ricardo tapped his arm and towards the washroom as Marie opened the door and reappeared. She had been in there ages and now her face, primed and perfect, was expressionless and clearly shaken. Looking around as if in a dream state the men watched as she past her stunned friends table and left them without a word. The group of women looked amongst themselves and one shook her head in surprise as they watched Marie walk over to the two men. She stood between them, looking like she was just about holding it together, her hand tight on the strap of the handbag.
'Can I see your phone please?'. With a wink Raul stood and handed it to her, watching as she once again, flicked through the twenty or more photos with a blank expression.
'Got a lot more of you at home Marie', said Raul. 'Your wedding photos are fucking beautiful. Hope you'll think about wearing that dress for me one day!'.
'You sure have beautiful tits', Ricardo chipped in, running his eyes up and down her figure. 'That hubby of your doesn't deserve you'.
'Well', Marie said swallowing dryly. 'Your right. He doesn't deserve what he has. And my breasts ARE better in real life'. The men exchanged another grin and Marie felt Ricardo's hand discreetly touch her ass through the soft, warm fabric of her dress. What was she doing. Her body stiffened under his touch, unfamiliar and alien.
'That's more like it', he whispered in her ear. Her head throbbed and for a moment she felt faint once more. She could feel the looks from the group of white men just as she could from her friends table. Sheer and total amazement.
'You up for this?', Raul whispered, stepping closer.
'Yes', replied Marie looking him in the eye. 'Yes I am'.
Raul took Marie's hand. She kept her head down, unable to look at the handsome, bewildered white man as she was led her out of the bar. The big man had no such problem and winked at him as they past. It was cold outside and the wind blowing against her bare legs and arms felt like a sign to turn back. This was a mistake. It felt bizarre. In all the time she'd been with John not once had she been unfaithful. Her experiences in bed had been with loving men prior to him and something told her this was going to be very different. The two men here were over eager and she could feel their need. Despite the cold her breathing was hot and heavy. She was partially terrified but something else had taken over too, a steely view of her husband she hadn't experienced before. This was all his fault and he would have to take the consequences. Was this anger resentment or was she actually trying to please her no good partner? Normally so confident in herself she had never felt this type of confusion. Everything ahead of her was a blank haze as her designer high heels tapped quickly on the wet floor.
'Oh', she gasped as Raul pulled her towards the mouth of a dark alleyway. 'Not here', realising the futility of her statement.