Maddie and I sat nervously on opposite sides of our booth in a hotel bar. She was positioned so she could see the entrance to the establishment, her eyes fluttering in that direction each time someone entered. I watched my beautiful wife intently, wondering if she was feeling half as nervous as I was. My stomach was gurgling and rolling over constantly. The night's planned events would take us far beyond her first interracial tryst as a married woman all those months ago.
We had had four similar encounters with different black bulls in the six months that had followed her first encounter with Mark. Each had been provocative in their own ways, yet disappointing in others. None had resulted in us scheduling a second date.
We had been about to give up any hope of Maddie finding a regular bull who satisfied us both. But then a friend I had made on a cuckold's message board had highly recommended a man named Baptiste. According to him, his wife had been utterly enamored with this man and everything he could do for her until circumstances beyond their control forced them to end the relationship.
I had contacted him after discussing the matter with Maddie. He had agreed to meet me at a local watering hole to flesh out what it was we were looking for, and to see if he fit the bill. After our experiences so far, I had been skeptical, but open for my wife's benefit.
Baptiste had impressed me right away. He'd been well put together, handsome, and confident; he'd radiated a natural charisma when speaking with me, and even with our server. I'd known right away that he would appeal to my wife because along with his other attributes, Baptiste had a roguish quality. He could come across as a bad boy while still wearing designer clothes and being clean-cut.
He had listened to me go over our five earlier encounters, taking the time to digest all I told him without interrupting me or coming off as if he knew it all. When he'd finally spoken, he'd blown my mind with what he'd suggested.
I'd left the bar that night with us having set a date for him to be with Maddie. It had taken us nearly two hours and several phone calls for us to iron out the details of our rendezvous, but when it had finally been done, I'd known that I had done my best as a husband to find my wife a regular black bull.
We had left our home just outside of Atlanta that Friday night after dropping our kids off at my parent's house. As far as they'd known, we'd been headed off on a little private marital retreat. The drive to Birmingham had taken us a little more than two hours; we'd pulled up front and left our car with valet parking right around seven.
I'd checked us in, then we'd taken our bags up to the room. That had left us a half hour to burn downstairs in the busy hotel bar.
I knew the minute Baptiste walked into the bar. I didn't have to see him for myself; his arrival was written all over Maddie's face. She suddenly sat up straighter, her shoulders going back to make her already impressive breasts appear more prominent. The way she squirmed slightly in her seat made me believe she was squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to further stimulate her aroused pussy.
For my part, I was nervous, just like I'd been every other time. I was always concerned that the man I had chosen wouldn't live up to Maddie's standards. So far, I was zero for five, so it was hard not to be. There was another reason that night in particular, though; Baptiste and I had set up a scene that would push Maddie out of her comfort zone to start. It was Baptiste's belief that my desire to control every aspect of my wife's encounters was holding her back. Though he'd forwarded the notion with tact and politesse, ultimately, he'd argued that I was the problem.
"I think he's here," Maddie said in a breathless voice as she downed the rest of her drink: bourbon, neat. She never drank hard liquor, but then, she'd also never done what she was working up the courage to do.
"Are you ready?" I asked, and just for an instant, I wanted her to say no. I wanted her to beg me to call it off and take her home, where we would make love deep into the night. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to give in, but that was not what Maddie needed. She needed the man who loved her to be strong, and more than anything, she needed him to be understanding.
"I think so," Maddie said with a sigh.
"Well, go and get him," I said encouragingly, offering her a smile.
I watched as Maddie slid out of our booth and made her way over to the bar. Baptiste had decided that my wife should have to pick him up. He had tried to convince me that her success would not be a given, but who was he kidding? My wife was as sexy and seductive-looking as any centerfold. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that they'd be heading upstairs to his room in short order.
I watched from my seat as Maddie ordered another drink, which betrayed just how nervous she was. She kept sneaking surreptitious peeks at the other end of the bar where Baptiste had settled onto a stool. I could almost read her mind as I watched her trying to psyche herself up for what lay ahead. Finally, after quickly gulping down her shot of bourbon, Maddie pushed off the bar and began to sashay over in Baptiste's direction.
Maddie was wearing her latest version of a little black dress. It had an asymmetrical hemline, with a long slit that went almost to her hip bone running up the long side. Her long, lithe legs and heart-shaped bottom were further enhanced by the four-inch black heels she wore. The top part of the dress had a low-cut scoop neckline that accentuated her spectacular breasts. As she made her way over to where Baptiste was sitting, every male eye in the bar was on her - every eye except for Baptiste's.
A smile came to my face as I saw Maddie hesitate briefly. Her left hand came up to twirl at one of her long blonde ringlets of hair, another telltale sign that she was nervous. Finally, though, she seemed resigned to accepting whatever fate lay ahead. She stepped up next to Baptiste and leaned one arm against the bar, her body angled to face him. She spoke, but whatever she said was lost to din and distance. Whatever it was she said was not enough to draw his attention. Baptiste continued to stare straight ahead into the mirror behind the bar. For just a moment, I thought his heedlessness might be enough to shake Maddie's confidence and send her scurrying back to our table.
But then my wife stiffened, pausing for a moment before placing her left hand on Baptiste's shoulder as she leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was seemed to do the trick. The handsome black bull finally turned to take in Maddie's alluring visage, the sight of her giving birth to just a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth.
The two talked for several minutes, with Maddie doing all the flirtatious things she typically did for me. Just a couple of minutes into their conversation, Baptiste's hand went to the small of Maddie's back and the pair were leaning in close to one another, their discussion taking on a far more intimate appearance.
Maddie leaned in again and whispered something else into Baptiste's ear before turning to look in my direction. The handsome black bull, playing his role well, leaned back in his chair to look at me as if he had not even known I was there.
He then pulled out his wallet and tossed some money onto the bar before putting his arm around my wife and standing up. The pair turned to walk in my direction. Maddie molded her body against his tall and muscular frame as if she wanted everyone present in the bar to know that she belonged to the handsome black man she was with.
"Honey, Baptiste, and I are about to go up to our room. You're welcome to join us if you want to."
I looked at her, confused. The three of us hadn't discussed options; I was supposed to join them so my wife's words left me more than a little confused for a moment. After a moment's hesitation, I started to slide out of my seat, but by the time I had managed to stand, my wife had already turned to walk off with her handsome black paramour, leaving me feeling forgotten and unnecessary.
I sped up to catch up to them while feeling as if everyone in the bar was watching the cuckold chase his wife and her black bull out of the bar. My face burned with humiliation as I trailed behind them like a forgotten redheaded stepchild, watching my wife giggle like a schoolgirl at something Baptiste said. I gritted my teeth as we walked through the hotel lobby, making our way toward the elevators. I could not wait to be behind the door of our suite, hidden away from the knowing, judging eyes I suddenly felt everywhere.
The elevator opened and we stepped inside, where, thankfully, no one joined us. I stepped into one of the back corners; Maddie and Baptiste moved toward the opposite side. He pulled her into his body; she melted into his embrace like an ice cube dropped on the blacktop on a hot summer's day. I watched with trepidation and more than a little humiliation as Baptiste's hands slid down onto my wife's supple ass, gripping it with both hands and squeezing firmly. Maddie squealed lightly in response, a sound that told me how thrilled she was by his vulgar public display of dominance. She seemed lost to me in the aura of his animal magnetism and charisma. Notwithstanding her coy offer in the lobby, I suddenly felt that I had ceased to exist to her the moment he had entered the bar.
The pair kept whispering to each other - words that I could not quite make out. What made it worse was that I didn't feel like they were doing it to intentionally shut me out. To me, they seemed the type of intimate words that needed to be spoken privately, and they had simply forgotten that I was there.
The situation only became more uncomfortable for me when their lips finally came together. I was forced to watch as Baptiste took ownership of my wife's mouth; Maddie moaned hungrily into their kiss as she raised up on her tiptoes. My stomach clenched at the sight and rolled in nauseating waves, but I could not tear my eyes away. Of all the things I had seen my wife do with her numerous black lovers, it was seeing her kiss them that brought me the most shame. It would settle in the pit of my stomach like a red-hot ember threatening to ignite my body and consume me whole. Even worse was what it did to my cock. I would make a conscious effort not to become aroused by the degrading sight in front of me, but my traitorous male member would betray me every time, stiffening to the point of obvious discomfort and tenting the trousers I wore.
The elevator doors opened on our floor, and I stepped out into the hall, leaving them enraptured by each other's presence. I made my way down the corridor to our room, pulling the keycard out of my wallet and inserting it into the slot. The light on the mechanism turned green and the sound of the lock coming free reached my ears. I opened the door and stepped inside, going at once to the minibar. I retrieved several small bottles of bourbon before grabbing a glass and heading over to a dark corner. A chair was there, waiting for me; I'd moved it there earlier that evening. It was almost as if I'd known I'd need the illusion of being hidden and anonymous to make it through the encounter.
The sound of Maddie giggling reached my ears seconds before they came through the door. The light and musical sound of it grated on my ears because I knew who was causing it - and who wasn't. They barely managed to close the door behind them before Baptiste roughly pushed my wife up against the wall, grabbing her hips and spinning her around so that she was facing away from him. I bit my lip in frustration as he pulled out her hips and swept her dress aside before grabbing hold of the sheer, forty-five-dollar pair of black panties I'd bought her the day before, ripping them free from her body in one fell swoop. Disbelief blossomed inside my mind as Maddie moaned like a two-dollar whore, clearly enjoying his overwrought display of dominance. Baptiste's right hand then went to his belt, making quick work of shedding it before unbuttoning his pants and allowing them to drop to the floor.
