This is the first story I ever wrote. I put it together to win a T-shirt from Penthouse Letters. Its kind of a reverse-image of their usual story:I didn't think it would be published.They put it on the cover! I didn't like the way they edited the story: they removed the edge, and mangled the one punchline. And I never got the frigging shirt!
You don't have to send me a shirt, but I would appreciate your advice and comments!
In the stories I've read, husbands are always willing and eager to share their wives with another man. The wives always still look like high school cheerleaders, and all will abandon their good sense, morals and inhibitions upon first sight of a big stiff cock, especially a black one. All black men have thick ten-inch cocks, which never lose their stiffness, even after multiple massive ejaculations. All real people are not like this. But some are.
My job requires that I live away from my home and family. I never worried about my wife when we were apart. We thoroughly enjoyed our catch-up time in bed whenever I could manage a weekend at the house.
When my son asked if one of his buddies could stay with him, until the disruption caused by his parents' divorce settled down, I saw no problem. I even talked with Tony briefly several times when he answered our phone. He seemed like a nice kid.
I met Tony, or "Pony" as his friends call him, when I was able to arrange a long weekend at home last month. He, my son, and some other guys were shooting hoops in our driveway when I arrived. Tony turned out to be a tall, athletically built young black man. His size, strength and dark powerful presence were almost intimidating. I couldn't imagine him being too comfortable sleeping on our couch.
My wife, Joan, and I spent some time with friends out in our backyard. It's the time of year when nature seems all green and perfect, and all the trees and plants are exploding with blooms and blossoms. The house and yard were beautiful, and seemed well worth the mortgage payments I mail home each month.
Joan had started an exercise program and was pleased and proud of the results. She has always had nice legs and magnificent breasts, but has had to struggle with her weight. She was now trimmed and toned and looked better than I had ever seen her.
I was anticipating our reunion in bed, but when she left the bathroom wearing her thread-bare old "sleep only" T-shirt, I knew there was a problem. She explained that all the pollen had aggravated her sinuses and given her a miserable headache. She asked if I would just snuggle with her, and rub her neck and temples until she could sleep. Her aspirin kicked in and she slept. Eventually my erection subsided and I slept too.
I awoke in the middle of the night. A cold stab of irrational panic attacked me when I found her side of the bed empty. I thought of Tony on the couch and fear filled me. Bright moonlight from the windows revealed her T-shirt on the foot of the bed. Her lingerie drawer stood partly open.
I felt my way down the dark hallway to the kitchen. Tony and Joan stood together by the table in front of the patio doors. They were in a pool of moonlight which streamed through the French doors. I watched, invisible in the dark hallway, as they shared a bowl of pudding and a single glass of milk. He wore an oversized pair of baggy sweatpants. She wore the Frederick's nighty I bought her last Christmas.
She had worn it for me once or twice.
The underwire cups made her 42D breasts seem impossibly firm and full. Her nipples in the moonlight seemed incredibly large and erect behind the lace, the shadow of her cleavage impossibly dark and deep. Her thong panties were just visible below the short skirt. Her voice had the breathless husky tone I remembered from our college dates. I could smell her perfume and a hint of her vaginal juices. My heart felt like broken glass as my world crashed around me.
"Why do they call you Pony," she asked
"It's just a nickname," he said. Something twitched far below the waistband of his sweats.
"But why Pony?" she breathed.
Something shifted the folds of cloth at his crotch.
"I think you have an idea why," he said. His fingers toyed with the drawstrings of his sweats. "I'd have to show you," he said. He pulled the strings taut and the bows of the knot got a touch smaller. "Do you want to see?"
"I've got to see," she whispered, "Show me"
The knot came undone. His sweats fell to his knees. His cock was only half erect but was already ten inches long and almost two inches thick. It bounced with his heartbeat, stiffening and thickening as it jerkily rose from his thighs. It rose to the horizontal, projecting from his loins.
I could hear her sharp intake of breath. "OH ... MY ... GOD," she said, "Why don't they call you Horse." She crossed the space between them and knelt at his feet. She pulled the sweats down to the floor and he stepped forward out of them. My wife knelt before this young stud and stared at the monster cock inches from her nose. She seemed fascinated and unable to move. Slowly one hand came up, and she ran her fingertips along one side of his cock, down and back. She put her thumb and fingertips together at the tip of his cockhead, she watched in fascination as the head wedged them apart as her fist slid down the shaft to his balls. She cupped and lifted those balls with her other hand, sizing and weighing them as if to gauge how much they contained.
A single shiny pearl of precum appeared at his slit. She extended her tongue full length and delicately lapped it up.
He and I both groaned. She grinned at that, and began licking the head, and then the bottom side of his shaft, from tip to balls. He leaned forward and she took his balls into her mouth. He moved her head back and to the center and slid the tip of his cock around her lips and face and up into her hair. She opened her mouth and took in just the head of his prick.
.... There is more of this story ...