Drifting Part 1

My wife Hannah pours a dash of baby oil on my cock and starts to rub it in with her soft hand.

She strokes up and down, gently massaging the shaft with the indents of her fingers as she rubs the oil all over.

Hannah's eyes lock with mine, her gaze staring straight into my soul as she takes charge of my most intimate place.

Hannah is expressionless, but a slight smirk comes on when the oil's all rubbed in. She strokes harder, and I begin to feel as though she's milking the essence from my soul. I'm bursting already, but it isn't quite enough to take me over the edge.

"Oops, sorry. Almost forgot"

Hannah says as she takes her eyes away to look down and unbutton her blouse. Now, I can see her supple tits and a slight glimpse of the outer rims of her juicy, light pink nipples.

I'm done, and Hannah knows it. She starts gripping harder at the head of my cock, just on the verge of causing too much pain.

I shout out, nestled between suffering and ecstasy, and my cock launches out rockets of cum. Hannah flinches, but speedily massages out all the cum out of me. Needless to say, my wife Hannah knew her way around my cock.

"That okay?" Hannah asked as she immediately stood up and walked away.

"Yeah, yeah... thank you" I respond as I whiff up the cold air behind Hannah, left to clean up my own mess with not an ounce of post-orgasmic affection from her.

Yes, this is my wife Hannah - the woman that separated from me 6 months ago.

We got married young, and when our only daughter flew the nest, we discovered that we no longer liked doing things together and had nothing in common.

So, somewhat amicably, we decided to split up. Only, neither of us could afford to buy a new home or a divorce lawyer - so for the time being, we were here together as housemates.

As Hannah walked away from me, I couldn't take my eyes off her leggings that were struggling to cover the vast breadth of her behind, allowing me to glimpse at the red panties underneath. I hadn't seen these ones before. They were quite sexy - almost like lingerie.

Even though I had just cum, I wanted to rip her leggings off her and fill her up with my seeds.

But I knew I couldn't, and that was our arrangement. You see, even though we no longer wished to be together, we both still had needs - and a housemate with whom you'd shared a sex life with for over a decade is just very convenient.

For the first couple of months, our 'friends with benefits' sex continued. Until one day, Hannah drew the line.

"If we continue like this, I don't think either of us'll be able to really move on"

I remember these words well. Hannah was adamant that we no longer kiss or have sex - it'll just be too confusing.

So we drew the line at handjobs. Her to me, me to her; as and when needed.

It never felt like enough, of course. And I don't think it was ever enough for her either. Nonetheless, we both understood the need to move on, and knew it wouldn't happen if we got too comfortable.

So, I cleaned myself up and stood up, trying to collect myself and move on to what I needed to get done around the house.

Then, Hannah interrupted my attempt at inner peace:

"So... uhm... I've got a date... this weekend"

Though I knew it was coming, and that it was only a matter of time, it hurt - and I questioned myself on whether I was ready to let go of my wife of so many years, someone who's still legally my wife.

"It's... Darryl, from work"

Ah, Darryl. I'd met him a couple of times at my wife's company outings. Darryl was a very tall and broad man, enough to make him stand out amongst a crowd. He was, in a true sense, a gentle giant with a soft tone and clean looks.

Oddly enough, I thought back to the time I met him for the first time. Given his stature, and his African heritage, I couldn't help but wonder if his manhood was a monstrous size. And if so, I wondered what kind of a woman would be able accommodate something of that magnitude.

Unfortunately for my curiosity, I've never seen the guy with a significant other. But now, there was the real possibility that my wife would find out the answers to those questions. The very thought of it brought on an accerated heartbeat and had me zoning out without knowing.

"It's- you know, just a date, you know that right? It doesn't mean anything- you know, yet" Hannah spoke from a distance away, but I could tell she was gauging my reaction, cautiously tiptoeing to ensure she didn't hurt me. But after a pause, she continued.

"But you know, I do really like him. I- and... that's what needs to happen right? Just- are you- uhm- okay with that?"

It was hurting me inside for sure, but my pride didn't want her to know.

I put on a brave face and tried to make a joke out of it.

"Yeah of course! Never imagined you being with a black man though!" I jeered, realising as soon as I said it that it felt very crude.

"...No, I never imagined myself being with one either. But, you know, I've never been with one before, so... I'm trying something new" Hannah chuckled at my pathetic excuse of a joke and explained.

It was supposed to be a meaningless jab, but Hannah's response actually made me feel worse. Hannah though, was clearly buying my masquerade. She turned around in the kitchen, seemingly reassured that I was comfortable with her date, enough to make jokes about it.

Then, she turned around quickly to defend her position.

"But, Darryl - Darryl's just a nice guy"

Now Hannah smiled too, looking relieved about the outcome of her mission.

I felt now in the mood to scrutinise.

"Does he know about our... living arrangements?" I asked with a dubious tone.

"Yeah, he's been through a divorce too, he's totally cool with it" Hannah replied quickly. She turned back around, my attempt clearly having reminded her of something.

"So... you agree right? With me potentially dating Darryl and all. We can't - you know - do THAT anymore" Hannah said as she gestured over to the couch where she jerked me off.

Along with the news that came before, I now had to cope with not having realised that the handjob I'd received just 10 minutes before might have been my final one from Hannah - my wife of more than 10 years - forever!

But still, my pride wouldn't let me show any vulnerability.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course, I'll uh- have to whip out some of that old charm for my own hookup!"

Hannah turned back around as she scoffed in response.

I questioned whether she was scoffing at my joke or at the idea of me being able to find a hookup of my own - but the searing anguish of the imagery in my head overwhelmed any offence I could take from her reaction.

The images in my head - the scenes of Hannah as my wife and mother to our child, being criss-crossed with a big black man, skewering her with his monstrous cock and making her his - it was being engraved into me, tormenting me, and eating me up inside.

Hannah was merrily unaware, whether by willful ignorance or naivete - I didn't know.

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I'm at two minds over the course of this story:

Option 1: a more realistic twist on a pained breakup erotica.

Option 2: a full-on cuckold development story which - in my view - is less realistic.

Appreciate your thoughts on subsequent parts, thanks.