Chapter 1

I have a story. The sort of story the readers of your dirty, little magazine might enjoy. It's about a promising, young woman who had it all and her gradual downward spiral into adulterous black fucking. The lady in question is my wife Anna and her tormentor: an African, bull of a man named Banba who once worked for me. When I bear witness as I often do, to their intercourse I have to ask myself if this is still the woman I married? The woman who

early last year bore a black baby and whose family quickly covered it all up. So many emotions run through me that I can only imagine what it must be like for her. Like any such endeavour, ours is one of chance, preparation and will. That I would be sitting here, writing this story to you is beyond my wildest dreams. A sure sign of how the times have changed and how relationships such as ours have come to flourish.

My wife is the second daughter of the Duke of Arbroath. When I first met her she was twenty one and a regular on the social circuit. A beautiful girl with a rich father and a handsome reputation in the bedroom. She was the centre of attention wherever she went: composed, fashionable, self assured and everything a man could want. We used to flock around her and she knew the power she had. I came to Britain in the mid 70's when marrying into rich Northern roots was considered extremely fortunate for a man like me. They are so especially proud of their family heritage over here. My own kin had made their money in Alaska and had sent me to Britain to make something of myself. With a good name behind me I was soon being noticed and introduced to people like Anna's father. I was slightly older at the time but despite the age difference her family considered me an ideal match. Obviously I was unopposed. Working in London but she was well known to my group of friends for her good looks, her family and her rather lavish shopping sprees. As her parent's firm favourite, Anna was raised with expensive tastes. She was a real prize and she always knew it.

Now, at 35 she has kept her figure and those upmarket, stylish looks. The crisp, intelligent face, flirtatious way and wicked beauty that over time made her quite the showpiece. Though perhaps not in the way her wealthy family had intended. The idea of a woman like Anna being with a man like Banba in those days was impossible. Such a union takes a lot of manipulation, time and luck and there were many reasons why a lady like Anna drops her expensive panties for ten inches of black cock. Why she might risk it all in a flight of fancy. After all, she had her family's fine reputation to think of, as well as her own recognised standing in the local community. We have lived at "Barkley Hall" in the English countryside for a number of years now. As my wife, she gained a notoriety in the local, country area though the quiet life was never for her. She needed more. Being wined and dined seven days a week with parties every weekend. She preferred the city life and looking back I guess boredom was a big factor. Only a week after her thirty fifth birthday Banba gave Anna much more than just the rampant fucking a woman like her so richly deserved.

I'd known Banba since I first came to England. As an immigrant himself perhaps we had something in common at least. For a brief time I was manager of a manufacturing plant were, with a number of cheap, black immigrants he was one of the workers. He had been one of several African men to bring his wife and family over due to the chronic labour shortage of the time. At well over six feet tall he was a striking, handsome figure, very obvious on the shop floor. His working-class looks were hardened and it was impossible to stand before him without feeling some sort of trepidation. Though our paths hardly ever crossed at first there was something in his rough, unruly style I liked. He was always causing trouble on the shop-floor and had a reputation on the quiet of being quite a dangerous man. I had all the employee records so I knew the background of everyone under my staff. Banba had infrequent dealings with the law but I was able to help out when I could. He didn't care for authority either and I found it compelling how though I often extended a helping hand there was rarely a word of gratitude.

Anna and I had been married several months when I worked there. She loved shopping in London and would occasionally call to see me on her way into town. With model looks and wearing the latest fashions she caught the eye of many of the men at the plant. Perhaps that was her intention. A group of them would often collect and watch the young lady with her permed, dark hair and big, pert tits from the yard. I daresay though she would never admit it she loved the attention. Anna had often secretly confided that she found shouldering her responsibilities difficult at times. Particularly in her youth. She would have loved she said, to be have been allowed to break free once in a while and 'let herself go'. Regardless she would take the whistles and calls as she parked her Merc and strolled up the stairs in a tight, short skirt that barely contained her round ass. I would never miss this regular occurrence from my window. It excited me tremendously to have other men look at her. Banba and several other black men were always among the group. From those first days it had excited me greatly to imagine an African man screwing a white, English woman. Particularly someone of my wife's ilk and stature. Though he seemed cautious of me at first I did my best to get to know him. My fantasies built and taking a considerable amount of risk I'd often invite him to my office were I'd steer the conversation towards Anna. He was no idiot. He knew what was in my mind though it took a while before he was comfortable referring to her by her first name instead of 'Mrs Ashton'. I don't think he ever really thought he'd actually get to use his big dick on her. Perhaps he saw it as his bosses perverse dreams. But dreams have a habit of coming true if you make them. We kept in touch. Maybe a few letters every twelve months or so.

As the years went by my wife had a string of affairs. Most came about when she turned thirty and her father did his best to conceal. She became very open sexually and went through a phase of filming ourselves in bed. She was very fond of telling me there was a new wave of freedom sweeping England and she wanted to be a part of it. Though she looked fantastic I knew she was conscious that she was not getting any younger. Vanity remained one of her greatest flaws. Her boredom and willingness to experiment grew in bounds. Her affairs did not bother me. They made her feel desired. Rest assured, though I was ageing too I enjoyed fucking her as much as I ever had. There was however a darker side. The dinner parties and chance to play hostess had, partly due to the recession been drying up. So too had our social calendar. Due to pressures at work I'd been showing her far less attention than she was used too and she'd started to drink in the afternoons. I suppose she felt ill at ease with her increasingly diminishing lifestyle.

The chance to have children for me had come and gone for me. Looking back that may have changed things and made her happier. Who knows? One day she went to a party and was gone over a week. When she returned, a little worse for wear she began talking about bringing another man into our bedroom. Anna knew I very much liked the idea as long as it was conducted discreetly and she often joked how much of a pervert I was. Suggesting we could have one of my wealthy work colleagues over for dinner were she could seduce him. That she reasoned would be the most subtle way and her eyes lit up as she talked about it. I couldn't hold it back any longer. When I looked at my wife all I could think of was my old friend Banba. One day I told her about him, our conversations, his promiscuous background and promise of a ten inch cock. She had listened without a word then been immediately dismissive. Frankly she was appalled by my remarks. A woman like Anna didn't just sleep with anyone, especially not a coloured factory worker at that. Then, as the twisted nature of it all sank in and with an almost cruel smile, she turned to me and said 'You'd like to see that would you?'

What a perverse women she was. I can't deny that she hardly reminded me at all of the young lady I first courted. Over the years had some of me rubbed off on her? Changing, corrupting. The woman I once knew would not have ever considered it. I contacted Banba in obvious good spirits, the phone sweaty in my hand. Years on he was a family man fulfilling an impoverished family lifestyle. He had four children, one with his first wife. Times were hard but he was finding work were he could. Still, he seemed his usual boastful self. His accent had come along and he was proud of himself and what he had achieved. He would be even more proud of himself soon and was happy to hear from me. I was pleased his taste for white women was as strong as ever, particularly for my wife. He was intrigued to know what had become of us and said he missed our old chats. Hardly able to contain my excitement, I put the question. Indeed, Banba nearly fell over himself when I told him Anna wanted to visit.

We arranged to go down one weekend to meet Banba and his wife Sahri. I remember that it was raining all through the long drive South. I couldn't distract my mind from what I was doing; taking my wife to meet another man like this. Their house was in a poor area of East Hampshire. A far cry from our own and I could see Anna having second thoughts as I drove the jag around the estate. She had been quiet most of the journey. Thoughtful, ponderous but no doubt anxious about what she had let herself in for. Avoiding potholes in the road and attracting stares from groups of youths I followed the instructions he had given us. Banba's house was on a row of five. Four kids were playing in the street outside. Two white, two half-cast. One house on the end was boarded up and covered in crude graffiti. Anna had been up and down all week as the meeting drew closer, changing her mind back and forth. What if we were discovered? How could be possibly consider this?

Despite playing down the visit as much as she could, she had taken an age to ready herself. A stiff G&T at the door before we'd set off. Outside the weather was chilly with a clear sky. Litter blew around openly in the street but for me the state of Banba's estate just added to the event. There was movement behind several curtains as neighbours peered out curiously. Anna had on neatly fitting and stylish, cream blouse with a matching skirt that she had worn for her younger sisters wedding. It was above knee length and quite tight on her shapely figure. She was wearing just a little makeup too but looked fantastic as ever. Especially with her dark hair tumbling onto her shoulders. Before we got out she put her hand on my arm and told me that she wasn't promising anything. I opened the broken gate for Anna and followed her up the path. Banba was going to love this. My wife smelled of expensive perfume and looked sexy and mature as she strode confidently ahead of me.

Sahri was at the door waiting for us. She was a pretty, fresh-faced black woman with short hair and a rounded figure. She wore a full length gown that wrapped around her forehead and had one of the kids on her arm, jostling him as he began to cry. She took Anna's hand warmly, keeping her eyes slightly averted to the ground as we followed her back into the cramped hallway. Children's toys were scattered around the threadbare carpet. There was a strong smell of cigarettes too, forming a light haze in the hall air. Sahri welcomed us both to their home and hoped our journey had been pleasant. I wondered if she knew what our reason for being here was. Probably not. My wife glanced back at me as the door closed and we both felt uneasy. I think we both wondered what kind of home Banba ran. Taking her coat from her I hung it up on the stand. The outfit was smart but quite revealing, certainly exaggerating my wife's breasts. With a knowing glance, Anna pushed open the door and stepped into the lounge.

I can't describe how excited I felt as I saw Banba sitting in the armchair. He looked as imposing as he always had but had put on a smart blue jacket and trousers for the visit. His round eyes and face lit up with satisfaction as Anna walked in. It had been such a long time since I had last seen him in person. Banba was a big man due to all the heavy lifting he had done years before. I guessed he'd endured a difficult upbringing in his home country. Well built with a lazy look in his eyes that hinged with aggression. His skin was a dark shade of brown, dotted with marks on his cheeks. Heavy arms hanging in his lap, the muscles stretching firmly against the fabric of his jacket. He rose from his seat, standing his full 6,2 and took Anna's delicate outstretched hand. His grin ran from ear to ear showing all his perfect white teeth as he peered generously down my wife's lovely body.

'A pleasure to meet you', Anna had said. There was a waver in her voice. Almost as if her breath were taken away. Already quite overwhelmed by the sheer size and power of the man in front of her. Banba nodded and motioned to a chair with his hand. He watched, licking his lips as Anna crossed the small room and took a seat on the large sofa.

We talked as Sahri brought in tea. Anna was polite and ever the lady. Just as she'd always been but I could see this was exciting her far more than she had anticipated. Her hands rested on her knee, showing off her cleavage which Banba was very keen to feast his eyes upon. He had never been a talker and his forthrightness was a little tribal and single minded. Sahri didn't seem to notice anything, certainly not her husband's definite sexual attraction to my wife. He only once referred to me, calling me 'Boss' as he always did. Anna led the conversation, asking him purposely about his time at the factory and was openly hoping to explore his native background. Particularly hinting at the times he had watched and called to her from the work yard. It was clear that she liked this big man and was interested in him. His stare ran rhythmically between her face, legs and tits. Pure lust, lacking any manners. Already an erection was looming through his blue trousers. I wondered if my wife saw it.

We left and on the drive home Anna admitted to me that Banba was quite a man. I was surprised to see she was flustered as we got into the car. We were soon back again. Much to my delight. Anna had also promised me that she would try to flirt much more with Banba on this visit and asked me if there anything she could do that I would like. In my opinion she set a good example the last time. Still, I suggested she wear something low cut and leave her bra at home as to reward him with a clearer view of her fine chest. It was so base and raw to see her act in this way. I'd never seen such a side to her before and when she shook his hand for a second time there was evidence of further attraction. Sahri, though mostly silent was pleased that we seemed to be making such good friends and Anna implored them to come and visit us sometime. We both knew better and such a thing would be impossible. It was all to take her attention away. Anna took every chance to flirt right in front of me. Exciting Banba no end as her confidence with the situation grew. She was enjoying herself, using her eyes and subtle movements. Particularly when crossing her legs which Banba had told me he particularly liked. Despite their great class divide, there was a genuine chemistry between my wife and this British/African man. I loved seeing her with suggestion in every move. Besides, Sahri didn't even seem to notice it. As though her senses where beaten down somehow. My wife worked her magic. Getting me to take her in the kitchen so she could talk and flirt with her husband.