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.
