Several miles away, her husband could hardly focus on work. It was now 5 P.M. and he hadn't heard a thing from Laura all day. His mind was on his wife and what must be happening at their house. He called her iPhone and after a couple rings he was surprised to hear Ray answer.
"Hi buddy?. How are you?" Ray said cheerily after seeing Mark's picture on the phone.
Mark responded, "Ummm. . . Can I speak with Laura? Is she there?"
Ray responded, "Sure, she's here. Well actually in the bathroom, douching I think. We've been going at it all afternoon, and I think she wanted to freshen up a bit. Can I take a message."
On the other end of the line, Mark's tears began to well in his eyes. Struggling to get the words out he said, "Umm. . . Just tell her I am going to be home late tonight."
Ray sat up on the edge of the bed noticed the white wife's panties, then picked them up to smell the aroma of Mark's woman, whom he had fucked several times now, and stuffed them into his trousers, which lay in a crumpled pile on the floor.
Boldly, Ray smiled to himself, then replied, "Well, actually we were planning to be busy until about 8 o'clock, so any time after that would be alright." He thought for a moment, then added, "Why don't you make it nine. There are a few things I want to teach your wife, and it may take a while."
Mark rang off the call, nervously clicking the 'End' button on the iPhone and looking at his wife's smiling picture fading from the screen. Now his heart pounded. It felt as though all the air had been knocked out of him. He had expected to have some emotional reaction to his wife's being with another man, but not a reaction this overwhelming.
He was incredulous over whether his wife could actually have done this. One part of him was praying that it didn't really happen. Another part was praying that if it did happen, it would only be a one-time thing that they would be able to talk about and that would excite them when they made love in the future. In either case, he couldn't wait to have his wife describe her afternoon.
He looked around and noticed that he was the last person in his section. He called for a pizza delivery then pushed away from the computer. He tried to imagine what might be going on at home. He was becoming completely overwrought with the thought of his wife alone with a powerful black man.
As he tried to control his imagination, he thought, this really couldn't be happening. They couldn't really be having sex. . . not his innocent, demure and proper wife and this self-assured black man.
Was this Dr. Jackson just pulling his leg? Had this man and his wife just cooked up some elaborate hoax. That was it, he told himself. He would come through the front door and find them sitting on the sofa, with the look of merry pranksters, revealing to him it was all a joke. He wiped tears from his eyes and tried to catch his breath.
His intellect was fighting to reject the possibility that she could really be with another man sexually -- not his innocent and naive wife, who had never been with anyone before him, who had 'saved herself' for him.
Ultimately though, his imagination took control of him. His heart raced and his modest penis was straining against his super hero briefs. Looking furtively and listening for any sound from the adjacent, he reached into his jeans and pulled out his modest little dick.
He thought of how beautiful and delicate Laura was and when he imagined her on her back with her legs open for a black lover, his dick became painfully hard. He pictured them having sex at this very moment. He wished he had been able to talk with her, just to gauge her voice or perhaps get some clue about what was really going on.
When he closed his eyes he could see his white wife in the throes of ecstasy at this very moment lying back, or on her knees with a big black cock stroking away inside her. He squeezed his hard penis and closing his eyes he stroked back and forth. He desperately wanted to see her being fucked and learning to become a 'hotwife', learning from a masterful black lover.
He closed his eyes and imagined his wife's soft white hands caressing her black lover's skin, or maybe running them up and down his back as he sucked her nipples or ran his hand over her wide open pussy. He imagined his wife lying beside her lover, stroking his dark cock with her small white hand. Now his penis grew even harder; he stroked faster and slumped back in his office chair. With a sudden painful surge of adrenalin, he shot his own load onto the carpet and panicked; he grabbed several handfuls of paper towels from his desk. He tucked his now shrunken member back in his Superman briefs, and got down on his knees to wipe up the mess.
Now that the excitement was receding, a sudden pang of remorse washed over him. Oh my God, he thought, what did I talk Laura into? What if she really liked this? What if it really did become more than a one-time thing? What if she actually became addicted to him? What then?
---
At their home, miles away, Laura actually was slowly but inevitably becoming addicted to Ray Jackson. Of course, she didn't know this on a conscious level. It was happening in many subtle little ways and not all at once. Over the coming days and weeks, she would grow to love the feel of his skin on hers. She would become incredibly turned on by the contrast of his black skin on her pale body. She would be amazed at how wet she became when she felt his hands cup her firm breasts and the felt his fingers twist her nipples. It already amazed her that she was turned on by the smell and the feel of his hot sweat when he fucked her hard and fast. She already loved looking down over her belly and watching his black cock disappear into her, and the more they fucked, the more it would grow to excite her.
When she had sucked his cock to climax today, she was amazed at how the smell of his manhood stimulated her sexually, so much so that when his cum filled her mouth, her deepest desire was to swallow as much of it as possible and then lick him clean.
She was even amazed that when he tuned the radio to an urban station, while she lavished her mouth over his cock, then later when he slid between her legs to fuck her, how much it trained her to move her body in rhythm with his and enhanced her orgasm.
The next day, without even knowing why, she changed all the radio station presets to urban stations, and thought to herself how incredible it had been to fuck to soul or hip hop. She already was beginning to feel a new affinity to rap. Somehow, the music reflected the sexual superiority of black men and their rightful hold over their women.
Deep inside her she would also love his strength and the way he seemed to dominate her. His domination fulfilled her need to be submissive, which she had never even known existed deep inside her being and which Mark, with his gentle nerdy nature could in no way fulfill.
She already understood that Ray would never ask for permission for anything they did. Indeed he would never need to -- he would simply expect her obedience. She already knew she would be rewarded for her subservience with incredible climaxes and the delicious experience of their taboo sex.
Thus, after only a single day, her husband's deep fear was on its way to becoming a reality. In a thousand small ways, she was growing addicted to Ray, and although it would take her days to come to the realization, there would be nothing he would ask of her, no demand of her that she even consider refusing, even when she and her husband became the sexual toys of both Dr. Jackson and his African-born wife.
Now she had just cum hard from riding atop his cock as he lay back and let her control the pace of their fucking until a few minutes from their hot climax when he took hold of her hips and began to move her up and down as if she were a rag doll. She leaned forward and pushing her tiny chest forward, fed her breast into his hot mouth for him to suck as he stroked her into orgasm and moments later came hard inside her. She screamed as she felt forward on his chest. He held her hips steady and pushed his cock deep inside her, all the way up to his balls. She felt the hot cum in her pussy and that plus her climax made her pussy throb and her vaginal muscles and pull more of his potent cum back toward her womb.
So far this day, she had experienced four orgasms, and had felt Ray's hot baby batter as he came in wave after wave, deep in her pussy each time. In contrast, whenever her husband came, there were a couple tiny little spurts. No wonder, she thought, no wonder she and Mark had never conceived. Her husband was so much less than Ray in every department.
She had a sudden fleeting thought about the dangers of becoming impregnated with his black baby. What, exactly did Ray mean when he asked her if it mattered whether he was 'fixed' or not. She decided she might have to go on the pill just to be safe.
Getting hormonal birth control could be an issue with her gynecologist, but she knew it was the only answer. She already knew that her black lover would never suffer the indignity of a condom, and she really loved feeling him with nothing between them and got an extra rush out of feeling his hot cum when he climaxed deep inside her. An abortion would be an even bigger problem. In the state in which they lived, as in so many now, abortions were either outright illegal or almost impossible to get. Perhaps Ray, with his professional contacts, would be able to fix her up with an understanding gynecologist. In any case, the thought only lasted a second or so, then quickly vanished when Ray stroked her once more and a sudden sexual thrill ran through her body as she felt his fleshy cock touch every part of her pussy.
She loved or at least lusted after so much in this man already. Their sex had the power to overrule any rational thinking. She was beginning to react to him with her animal brain and her body alone. Her body had learned in the short span of the day how wonderful it felt to hold onto the thick muscles of his black ass as he circled and thrust at the same time. Her body was even learning to love the pain of his thrusts as he stretched her vagina with his huge cock.
