Always bet on the black I guess could be our motto, as I found out on our twenty-fifth anniversary in Las Vegas...
My husband and myself decided to spend our milestone anniversary in Las Vegas. He is 45 and I am 44. I have to say I have taken good care of myself, my tits may sag slightly (but give me a break if you have 40DDs that is an achievement), and I have kept my butt nice and tight. For this trip I even gave in to one of my husband's ideas and went blonde. He bought me a sexy outfit to wear when we went out for our "big-night" which included a premium show and a diner at a deluxe restaurant. Unwinding at a quiet bar after hours I told him we should hit the black jack table. He told me he had two surprises for me. I asked them what they were as I gave his cock a quick squeeze under the table and was surprised to find it hard.
He took out a small box, I opened it with hands trembling and found the necklace I had been admiring when we first arrived on the strip. I told him we could not afford it, but he said anyone who would put up with his crap for a quarter century deserved it. I gave him a big deep kiss. I asked him what the other surprise was. He blushed a bit. He pointed across the room, but all I could see was a black man sitting at a table across from us. Did I miss something? Then it hit me. For years he had had this fantasy of watching me and a well endowed black man have sex. Now the answer had always been no. However, I must say I was somewhat of a hypocrite to the extent that there were times I was too tired to fuck, and could get my husband off with a hand-job and a story of my sexually "misbehaving" with a black stud. But to actually do it?
He brushed my breast and told me it was no big deal if I did not want to do it. He did remind me of the famous saying of "What happens in Vegas... " I thought it over. I told him if we did anything I could say how far; and when I said stop it meant stop. I asked him where he had found my "date" and he said it was through a swingers magazine. I gulped down my drink. Then with legs of rubber I walked across the room to meet my new "stud."
I sat down at the booth and said hello and introduced myself. He was in his early thirties, and not to sound cliché but he was all buff which made sense considering his choice of recreation. Nervously we talked and he told me there was no pressure. I worked up my courage and slid next to him, knowing my husband was watching every move we made. He ordered us each a fresh drink and I noticed, and was somewhat flattered with the way he checked me out. He told me he had an idea to really make things sizzle without doing anything, just yet.
I texted my husband to take a corner seat in the dance club next door. But he was to give us a five minute head start. When my husband, who seldom dances, came in he found me dancing next to my new partner on the floor. The sight of me shaking it up must have excited him as he spilled his drink twice. I noticed my date's big bulge, and decided maybe I could do a little something for him.
After a few more minutes on the floor I asked my dance partner to sit at another table while I talked to my husband. I sat down next to hubby and he was more excited than I had seen him in years. I did tell him though that he must be ready for whatever happened that night, I did not want to hear him be upset the next day or I'd get straight back on a plane to New York. He agreed. I went back to tell my partner our room number and that he was to follow us up twenty minutes later.
We ordered some drinks for the room which arrive a few minutes before my date did. My husband asked me how far I was going to go with him, and I told him honestly I did not know. The man rang the doorbell a moment later and my husband let him in. We all had a drink. Then came the moment of truth.
I got up, leaving my husband sitting on a chair and went across the floor to my new lover. I kissed him and was surprised to find myself getting turned on. While I was not a racist, I had always only dated white. My husband watched as one kiss led to another. His hands drifted to my tits and I let him squeeze and kneed them through the fabric of my light blue velvet dress. He put his hands around my waist and pulled me against him. I could feel his cock press through his pants and against my stomach. "It's so big." I said, and I meant it, it must have been at least twice as big as my husband's. I had heard stories, but I thought they were all bullshit. "I don't know if I can handle it all but I am going to try." I said as I reached down to undo his belt, my hands undid the snap of his jeans and then the zipper, which seemed to take a million years to unzip. Then there was the next moment of truth in my interracial initiation. I looked at my husband and then reached in, parting the snaps of his boxers; for the first time during our marriage I touched another man's cock, and it was also the first non-white cock I had ever held. Even semi-hard it was definitely bigger than my husband's. Now here was where I had to be careful, my husband, in all our black cock submission fantasies liked an element of humiliation, or cuckolding, but I did not want to take it too far.
"Shit it's so big. I think it is bigger than yours." I said as I stroked the black cock in my hand, surprised at its weight and thickness. I kissed my new lover deeply holding his cock up so it pressed against my chest. We kissed some more as I stroked his shaft. "You know honey I might not ever go back after trying this."
He reached down and put his hand up my dress fingering my pussy through my sheer lace black panties, the ones I had put on earlier that night for my husband. He then snaked his fingers in so he touched my pussy directly. I could tell by my trembling knees that he was an expert at this sort of thing, and started to moan.
