Gerry found me alone by myself in the bar across the street from our work station. It was noon–lunch break hour. I’d had lunch already and was enjoying a smoke and a beer while watching the latest World Cup soccer match happening that hot summer afternoon. The bar was filled with customers; I made like I didn’t notice any of them.

“I’ve been looking around for you, Eddie,” he said after tapping my shoulder. “How’re you been, man?”

“Doing all right; chilling,” I murmured. “What about you?”

“All good here, brother. All good here.”

Gerald took the stool beside me at the counter. I expected him to order himself a beer, but when he didn’t, that let me know he had something on mind to share, hence why he came looking for me.

“You know tomorrow’s Saturday, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Fourth of July, man.”

“You said it.”

“Got any plans?”

I thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Watch a game on the tube, then maybe later head out to the lake and see if anyone’s shooting fireworks. That’s about all I can think of,” I said.

“How about you come over tomorrow,” he suggested. “June is making barbeque steak, and there’s going to be lots of beer. It’ll be fun.”

“You sure? I thought you’d be having your kids around.”

“Not this year,” Gerald said. “June specifically asked that I invite you over; it’ll be a lot better than being stuck alone by yourself. Not unless you’ve got someone coming over.”

I had nobody coming over. I was three months away from my divorce, and still finding it awkward being a bachelor all over again. Though I did miss having some free pussy. That’s what a brother gets for being lonely, I guess.

“She actually said that?” I looked at Gerald, as if expecting to see doubt in his eyes. I liked his wife, and we got along very easily whenever she had me over for dinner. Though that was back when I was still married.

“She did,” Gerald said. “So what do you say? Come by around five tomorrow. I’ve got to head back to my shift; see you then.”

He tapped my shoulder and left. I wanted to stop him, but instead watched in silence as he made for the door and then left the establishment. I thought I should have asked for more proof, but figured it wouldn’t matter. At least it would be fun to leave my apartment come Saturday.

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* * *

Saturday. Fourth of fucking July. Evening.

I hopped into my car and drove to Gerald’s home. I called him when I was at a red light less than a mile away and told him how soon I would be there. Gerald replied that I should keep coming. The light turned green and I shifted into gear and continued to his place.

Gerald’s car wasn’t in his driveway when I arrived. I parked in front of his home, got out, then approached his front door. I pressed the doorbell and waited. Seconds later it opened to reveal his wife; my mouth dropped and hit the floor when I saw what she was wearing.

June wore a robe that was open to reveal her lingerie adorned in the radiant colours of the American flag. You would think she would be shocked and surprised to see me. Far from it, she had the most radiant smile on her face I’d ever seen. She took my hand and invited me inside before my senses could make their decision.

“I’m so glad you made it,” she said as she led me into the living room. “And a happy Fourth of July to you, by the way.”

“Same to you, June. Is Gerald home? I didn’t see his car outside.”

“Gerald got a call from the office a while ago. He said he’ll be back within the hour, but who knows. Anyway, I’m glad you’re here to keep me company though. Come, have a seat. Would you care for anything to drink? A beer or something hard?”

“A beer would do just fine, thanks.”

“Okay. You just sit there and wait.” June took off her robe and threw it on a couch. “That’s only going to get in the way for me,” she said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off from admiring her voluptuous buttocks behind her bikini as they swished side to side while she left the room. June does have a gorgeous body–tits and ass included. God knows if it weren’t for the fact that I was buddies with her husband, nothing would have stopped me from wanting to nail her. Already I could feel my penis kicking to life inside my jeans and had to adjust myself to cool my nerves–this was my friend’s wife we’re talking about here, not some twenty-dollar whore.

June returned with two beers in hand and gave me one.

“How come you’re dressed like this?” I inquired after taking a sip of my beer.

“It’s freaking hot outside, isn’t it? Besides, Gerald bought this recently for me, but he’s never seen me in it. I was going to wear it for him, but then he had to leave. I figured why not put it on since you’re coming over. What do you think? Don’t I look good in it? This is me in my Mrs. July bikini.”

She turned around to present all angles to me, even tantalisingly shaking her butt, the whole time smiling like the happiest girl in the world. I was trying my damndest to resist being aroused, but she seemed to be making it difficult for me. I couldn’t help turning my face slightly away, not wanting to appear too embarrassed.

“Yes, yes, you sure look good in it, June. You might as well stop before you get me in the mood now.”

“What mood would you be referring to, Eddie?”

“You know what I mean; stop playing.”

I meant it humorously. Little did I know that was her intention the entire time.

“How about I see for myself,” June said.

She sat beside me and audaciously grabbed my crotch. So unprepared was I that I pretty much jumped and nearly dropped my beer.

“Is this what you’re referring to, Eddie,” she crackled while still impressing upon my crotch, feeling over my hard-on that refused to stay silent. “I see your little man has gotten bigger. How about we allow it to breathe. What do you say?”

I was too stunned out of my head to stop her from what she did next.

June came and knelt before me and proceeded to unzip my jeans. Words choked in my throat as I watched her dip inside to then fish out my semi-erect penis. She slid her tongue up my shaft before popping it into her mouth.

I felt a cold sensation sting my brain the instant her lips enveloped my prick. The sensation was a familiar one, although it had been a long while since I felt it; it was like reconnecting with an old lost friend. Yet this was wrong; this whole thing felt very wrong.

“June . . . June, please . . . we ought to stop this.”

“Stop what, Eddie?” she murmured while still playing with my manhood.

“This,” I said, biting my lips as the sweet sensation kept attacking me. “Please, we should . . . Gerald would be back any minute.”

“So what if he does,” she said. “Don’t worry about Gerald; worry about me instead.”

June went on sucking my cock with the dexterity of a pro. I surrendered to her power, allowing her to do what she wanted. She loosened my belt and top button, then wiggled my jeans down my thighs to suck me better. She later stopped, rose to her feet and reached for my hand.

“Why don’t you come let me show you the rest of the house,” she said. “We can get better privacy there.”

“What about Gerald?”

“Don’t worry yourself about Gerald–he already knows what we’ll be up to,” she said. “That’s why he left to give us a head start.”

Like a lamb led to slaughter, I offered her my hand and allowed her to lead me to her bedroom.

June got onto the bed on her elbows and knees, and waited for me to wrestle out of my clothes. Finally naked, I dropped behind her and loosened her American swimsuit, then tongued her pussy and ass crack. I grabbed her cheeks and spread them apart as wide as I could while slobbering up and down her cunt lips. June whimpered and squirmed as I expected; her sensuous moans let me know she was loving every minute of it.

I couldn’t help imagining how Gerald would respond if he came and found us like this. Best not to think about it, I thought. I poured my heart into my pussy-eating quest, even took time to bury my tongue into her asshole before pulling back to catch my breath. June did whimper aloud when I did that. She requested that I do it again, which I did, before eventually rising to my feet.

My cock slid into her vagina with ease. Her wet pussy acted as a perfect lubricant as I held her waist and continued deeper. June tried to look over her shoulder at what I was doing. She shoved her butt back at me each time I withdrew. Her pussy felt comfortably tight and fantastic–this was what I’d been missing since my divorce.

“Go ahead, slap my butt, Eddie,” she purred. “Smack my big booty.”

I did that–Slap!

“Uh-uh. Smack it hard. Smack it like you own it.”

SLAP!

“Oh yeah, I like that!”

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

“Awwhh yes! This is your booty now, Eddie. Don’t worry about Gerald–he hasn’t fucked me in months. He doesn’t fucking know how to fuck!”

For some reason, hearing her talk like that spurred me into overdrive. I increased my thrusts and gritted my teeth while fucking her harder. I continued to smack her butt, leaving red welts on her luscious flesh; June loved every minute of it.

I kept pounding her pussy harder and harder. June kept urging me on, the way her body shook and bounced back at me, she kept moaning louder, telling me not to stop. My heart was trotting like a thoroughbred. I saw the finish line drawing closer even though my eyes stayed shut.

The moment came and I let myself loose inside my friend’s wife’s pussy; I simply couldn’t help it.

I crashed beside her on the bed, gasping for air like I was breathing my last. June left the bed and went into the bathroom to clean herself, then returned to lie beside me.

“That was incredible,” she murmured. “How come you and I never did it before?”

“Are you crazy? Gerald’s going to tear me apart if he comes and finds us like this.”

I tried to get off the bed, but she stopped me.

“I told you already that Gerald knows. He only went to get more beers; relax, and thanks for making my Fourth of July special.”

I did as she suggested and lay beside her while she caressed my chest. If she wasn’t bothered, then I guess I shouldn’t either.

You have no idea of my intentions, and that’s how I want things to be. You’ve no idea how much I’ve studied your routine, from the exact hour your alarm clock rings to when you saunter into the bathroom to get ready to start your day. I’ve even set my alarm to mirror yours, that way we’re almost in sync.

I’m usually in my kitchen brewing a cup of espresso while you’re buttoning your shirt and attaching your cuff links. Your tie is typically askew while you tie your shoe laces. Your wife is downstairs in the kitchen making breakfast. Sometimes you make time to eat (though you’re awfully fast as you explain you need to beat the 8:00 a.m. traffic on the freeway leading into the city), other times you’re in much of a hurry. You grab your briefcase, kiss your wife goodbye, then you’re out hurrying into your car. I’m beside my window sipping my coffee and watching you dash off to work.

You’re unaware of my presence. You have no idea why I’m watching you, or if I’m intending some measure of harm to come your way.

None of the above. I’m simply bidding my time, waiting for you to drive off. I check my watch to note the time—you’re only off by a couple of minutes.

I finish my coffee and then wear a shirt, about to begin my intention.

I go out through my back door, cross into your yard, then enter your home through the back door like a friendly thief.

The kitchen is empty, as is the living room. I stop when I hear noise coming from upstairs. I head in that direction.

Your bedroom door is open; I observe shadowy movement from within. I carefully approach.

I ease the door further open and stop to catch my breath.

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I have the power of sex and seduction stacked in my wide-set hips and thighs, large pair of voluptuous tits, and a mean-hungry pussy between my legs. My prowess is bold and concrete enough to make a majority of simps forget their last name, enough to persuade rich and powerful ones to beg to have me for a wife.

Such was how I snagged my husband.

Fool that my husband is, amid his wealth and boardroom brokerage, he’s insufficient when taming my womanhood. When it comes to sexually dominating me in bed, his charisma is lacking to the point of utter ridiculousness.

It’s possible that you know of my husband, or have heard about him. His face has been plastered on the covers of Forbes magazine, and has been featured in numerous financial news reports. He is a shrewd devil when dealing with financial markets. Underlings quake at the snap of his footsteps. I can describe to you many facets of his business acumen and brilliance, but regardless of his wealth and accolades, he is a pussy when it comes to sex.

Hard to believe that he can make financial markets go into a tailspin with ease, but when it comes to arousing a woman . . . he simply can’t break even.

I have remained loyal to him, through rich or poor–especially the riches–sickness and health, and whatever else that comes with being a spoiled, pampered, rich man’s housewife. Together, we’ve visited various attractive exotic spots utilizing whatever means of transportation: a helicopter, cruising on his yacht, or flying First or Business Class. I’d wake up to the taste of champagne before breakfast, mingle with other wealthy housewives, including celebrities, and go skinny-dipping in the Mediterranean.

If I demanded diamonds and rubies from my husband, he would definitely acquire them for me. If we went shopping and I indicated Chanel bags in the display windows, they would be mine within minutes.

Yes, diamonds are a girl’s best friend, but they lose their luster with time; besides, you can’t ever fuck a diamond. I’d take a good hard dick over the world’s most expensive mineral anytime, any day.

I do have power of sex and seduction, but one thing has abundant power over me—a good black cock to fuck.

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I am a full-blooded woman, and I love to fuck. I made that fact known days before I agreed to marry my husband. We had been dating for several weeks, and I’d already sampled his capabilities in bed and knew he was zero-match to my appetite. I told him that things wouldn’t possibly work between us. He insisted that it would. He said he wouldn’t mind me having sex with whoever I wanted, as long as I kept it quiet.

My first taste came when I moved into his expansive home, and it was with a young black pool boy named Umar.

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You can go ahead and ask my husband the truth about me, ask him wherever you’re chanced to run into him. Even he will tell you I don’t play when it comes to sex. I’m a walking, talking, randy, slut-driven, demented whore when it comes to fucking; regardless of whether I’m doing the fucking, or someone capable is fucking me, I don’t care. If you’ve got a good cock to go with your stamina and power, then I’m sure to make the time for us to get down. And if you fuck me good the first time, then I’m yours for the taking.

But that’s for later. Right now I want you to sit down and listen to my confession.

Allow me to begin with my husband, Andy.

Andy was dismayed the first time we had sex and he realised he could barely keep up with me. This was back when we’d started dating. After two rounds of good fucking, he tapped out, admitted that I might give him a heart attack if we continued the way we were going. He was stunned when I told him I was just getting started. He reluctantly returned to bed, but he was all spent. I gave him credit for going the distance, as my previous lovers never lasted past one round. I was a college sophomore at the time, and yet to discover the heightened joy that came with fucking black men.

Years went by, and all through those years, Andy and I seemed to avoid getting to the nitty-gritty of the most important conversation concerning both of us with regards to sex. I never hid my desires from Andy, not once. I made it known to him that I demanded and craved sex like a child desires sugar. I cannot explain it; my libido has always been on high. If I’m not steadily thinking of sex, then something was wrong. Since Andy wasn’t capable of giving it to me the way I wanted, then it was only fair that I find someone who would; fucking my dildo wasn’t enough. Andy nixed the idea, declaring how wrong that was, and that the last thing he wanted was to see me screwing some louse in our bed.

“Would it make you feel better if I decided to do it in a hotel room?” I asked.

“Hell the fuck no,” he declared. “And I don’t want to hear about this silly shit anymore!”

I huffed and told him he was being inconsiderate, but later fell silent about the matter. He knew he had hurt my feelings, and he did try to make it up to me by making time from his busy work schedule to have play time with me in bed. But as expected, not once did our so-called play time lead to anything good.

As it turned out, I knew why Andy was nervous about seeing me in bed with another man. It took me a while to understand his inner grievance, but I eventually did. It wasn’t about him seeing me getting fucked by another man, but the fear that some other man would succeed in snatching me away from him. He was afraid of whatever repercussions might affect our marriage if ever I attempted this activity. Months went by, and I was then able to suggest to him that one best way to safeguard that issue from rearing its head was if I opted instead to find myself a black lover as opposed to a white one.

“No black man would want to take me from you,” I said convincingly one night while we sat up in bed contemplating things. “Black men would rather want a young white girl, not a middle-aged Milf like me.”

“Milf? What’s a Milf? What sort of acronym is that?”

“‘Mothers I’d Love to Fuck’, as in Milf. Do you get it now?”

“I guess,” he looked at me oddly. “Where in God’s name do you find such weird things, anyway?”

“It’s all over the internet, honey; even kids these days know what it means. But let’s not get sidetracked here.”

He reluctantly agreed that I should find someone who would give me what I wanted, but that I should ensure he was clean of any STDs, is single, and wouldn’t pose no threat to us. One final thing is that whoever he was, he should best wear a condom.

I agreed to his terms and then set about finding the right man for the job.

You would think that finding the right man for the job is easy, but I’m here to tell you such isn’t the case. The internet is vast and one can get lost in the ether if you’re not so careful. I combed through various social media sites, I put up photos of my figure in different forums all to entice the sort of man I wanted. Many responded but the majority of them didn’t fit the bill: some were white men pretending to be black, a majority of black men that responded were married, too old, and/or resided in places far from my location. I needed someone who wouldn’t take long coming to me or vice versa.

Three weeks went by before I found my man, or rather he found me.

His name is Idris, and he’s originally from the Caribbean but was studying for his Masters, and he happened to reside in a city closer to where I lived. Sorry, I don’t want to tell you anymore because I wouldn’t want any of you bitches to go around looking for him; you’ll have to trust me on things.

Idris contacted me through my Instagram page, and that was how we got to talking. We exchanged contact information, but not before he’d showed me what he was working with. His equipment was quite impressive and when I showed his photos to Andy, even he couldn’t help but blush before admitting that his tool was way bigger than his. Idris and I talked via phone, and I even allowed him to chat with Andy so he wouldn’t feel left out. Andy gave me the go-ahead to initiate a meeting, and Idris and I talked about where would be most appropriate for a hookup.

We decided on a Town Line Inn that wasn’t far from where I lived. The day was a Saturday, and Andy drove me there. Idris had already reserved a room at the Inn. We found him in the lobby and went to sit in the bar to chat for a bit; he wasn’t in any hurry, and neither were we. Idris didn’t mind talking about himself. I found his Caribbean accent quite amusing; I could also tell that Andy was starting to like him.

Done with our drinks, we decided to stroll to where his room was at. Andy went and found a perfect spot to park his car while Idris led me inside. Andy joined us in no time, by then we had already begun to kiss and fondle each other. Andy planted himself in a chair while Idris lifted me off my feet and carried me to the bed. He was quite a gentleman, but within minutes of us enjoying our foreplay I came to realise that underneath his gentility was the sort of man I’ve always yearned for in bed.

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His cock stood ramrod straight and majestic when I unveiled it out of his jeans. It was half the length of my arm, and when I glanced towards Andy, even he was awed by the size of his shaft. I cannot describe to you the immense pleasure I had when I got to suck his cock. I could have stayed there and worshipped his cock all day, except the sight of it had ignited my horniness and raised it to the highest level. I definitely needed to fuck something or I was likely to burst.

Idris had me on my arms and knees with my butt aimed upwards when he then positioned himself behind me. He rummaged his finger inside my cunt, getting me riled up and squirting with ecstasy before inserting his prick. I grabbed and pulled the sheets and felt a thunderous roar escape my mouth as he drove deeper and deeper into my pussy. I felt my pussy being stretched, way stretched than ever before, and I got to stomping my leg on the bed like I was suffering something akin to a volcanic eruption.

Andy would have backed off if it was him fucking me; that would have been the best thing to do, knowing I was hurting somewhat from being penetrated so abruptly. But Idris wasn’t my husband, and I’m glad he never let up from his action. He doubled-down instead and kept drilling his cock inside me. I could almost feel his cock hitting my cervix, and still I wanted it. Still, I demanded that he kept fucking me harder.

Our sex was the hardest sex I had enjoyed in years. Idris soaked up my haughty cries and continued to plug my pussy like no man ever had before. My sweat spread like a river on the sheets, and by the time he turned me over onto my back, I felt like I’d shed more sweat than I would at a spa. I held my legs apart and Idris knelt before me, grabbed his tool and rammed my pussy harder again. He leaned on his arms like he was attempting push-ups, except it was his hips and thighs that rose and fell on my thighs while he sank his cock into my vagina. I orgasmed not once but multiple times, and it felt incredible. I had finally rediscovered that which I had always wanted the most.

Our sex seemed to carry on for a long time until Idris pulled out and ejaculated his seed all over my tits and abdomen. I lay there breathing heavily, my pussy felt hot like someone had stuck a hot poker inside my vagina, yet I felt grateful for the experience. Even Andy was mesmerised by what he had watched. I couldn’t help but laugh at him and he responded by giving me a ‘thumbs up’.

I rested for a bit later, after my temperature had lowered, went into the bathroom and cleaned myself up. I dried myself up and Andy helped me back into my clothes and then we said goodbye to Idris and left.

It wasn’t until we were halfway home that Andy made one important observation that I’d neglected. He reminded me that Idris hadn’t worn a condom.

He didn’t complain though, and he did allow me to make Idris become my steady lover up until a year later when he concluded his Master program and returned home. The good thing was that Andy was happy for me, and my relationship with Idris never harmed our marriage.

Not once.

The End

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Where do I begin . . .

I couldn’t believe how serious Jamal was when he talked about wanting to come to my home and fuck me in my bedroom in front of my husband, Kyle. And Kyle, to my surprise, agreed to it. He had been wanting this for a long time, he later told me.

Jamal and I have been seeing each other, but always with me going to his place. This time he came to my home and Kyle welcomed him in. There was no fuss, no muss. Jamal entered my home like he lived in it, like our apartment was his, and my husband gave not one word of complaint. We went upstairs to the bedroom and he told me he wasn’t going to wear a condom this time. I foolishly agreed, thinking what harm would it be.

He bent me over the bed and fucked the hell out of me. He lay on his back and I rode his cock like I didn’t ever want to stop. It felt fucking good too. Kyle sat on a chair and watched. He took snapshots with his phone.

Jamal rolled on top of me and he fucked me and shot his load inside me. I could barely get up from the bed when he finished with me. He stayed over and fucked me all through the night. Kyle went out and got pizzas.

That was the night I got pregnant!

Or was it?

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