While the characters in this story are fictional, the story was created based upon information provided by a drop dead gorgeous young woman who is proudly black owned. She knows who she is and I think her.
I stood before my dressing mirror, heart racing, as I inspected myself. When smoothing my dress over my hips the glint of my diamond and wedding band caught my attention. I considered taking them off, but remembering Sally's comments about the popularity of married women, decided to leave them on. I was pleased by my sexy, inviting reflection. Having small breasts, I seldom wore a bra, and the thin fabric of my dress seductively outlined my breasts. I had spent more time than normal getting ready. I was freshly showered. On an impulse resulting from the wanton thoughts and desires that had taken over my being, while shaving my legs, I also shaved my pussy bare. If he even noticed, I figured I'd tell my husband that I shaved it to welcome him home.
I reflected back on the journey that had brought me to that moment. I was raised in a conservative suburban town. Growing up, I accepted without question my parents' belief that blacks were just as good as we were, but as far as relationships go, each group was meant to stay with their own kind. I would actually feel revulsion when I saw a white girl walking with a black man because I had been taught that what they were doing was unnatural.
By the time I was in college, I saw some of my white classmates dating black men, and rationalized that if the races were truly equal there should be no reason why they shouldn't be together if they desired, but I definitely felt it was inappropriate for me. All through college, all my boyfriends and lovers were white. I was curious; however, as to why I saw many more white women with black men than the other way around.
By the time I was twenty five, I was married to a successful dentist older than myself. I had been attracted to him because he seemed so much more mature than the guys I dated in college, and he was already financially established. For the most part, I had a good life. We lived in an upscale neighborhood. I drove a Jaguar convertible. My sex life; unfortunately, was a bust. After courtship and the first year of marriage, Rick showed little interest in sex; we even slept in separate bedrooms. We made love once a month if I was lucky, and even then I had to be the initiator. I collected an assortment of toys that I used to make up for my husband's lack of attention. As I told my closest girlfriends, those who knew my real situation, I was my own best lover.
Perhaps I did it to prove I was desirable, but I always made a point of dressing sexy whenever I had the chance, even if I was only going to the grocery store. I also started to flirt, and did so discreetly when ever Rick wasn't around. At least once a month, I would go out with three or four of my girlfriends for drinks and dancing. I had fun flirting and turning guys on, but always turned down any overtures to go further. All I was interested in was a little innocent fun; I had no desire to cheat on my husband.
Occasionally black guys would come to our table asking one or more of us to dance. I turned down such offers, but my friend Sally often accepted if the guy was big and good looking enough. She would even turn down requests from white guys if she thought a black guy might approach her.
Finally, one day when it was just the two of us having tea at my house, I asked Sally, "Why do you dance with black guys when we go out?"
"I'll tell you because I know I can trust you to keep a secret," she responded. "I prefer black lovers, and some of the men I dance with I see later. Have I shocked you?" she added after a pause.
"Yyyes," I stammered. I was taken back. "I thought you and Jim were OK. I mean you've always said what a good lover Jim was, why have sex with someone else?"
"Oh Jim's great in the sack, and I love him dearly, but he can't fuck me the way my black boyfriends can. It's just not possible," she added. "There's an intensity to black on white sex that I haven't found anywhere else. Part of it is because we're of different races and I'm doing something that's exotic, dangerous and forbidden. Then there's the equipment."
My curiosity was definitely peaked. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
Smiling at me, Sally continued, "Sex with blacks is powerful. I experience ecstasy that I can't get anywhere else, certainly not from Tom. To start with, their cocks are generally bigger, and with some, they are truly enormous, freakishly big. My black boyfriends have incredible endurance; they stay hard and keep fucking me until I'm exhausted from cumming."
"When I'm with a black man, we are both aware of race. I know I am a snowy white prize, the perfect bunny, and he loves knowing that he is putting me on levels no man of any other race can share with me. He loves it, it makes him stay rock solid hard right through his orgasm on the way to his second, and he barely softens at all before cumming a third time. Black guys cum quick, they cum hard, and they just keep cumming and cumming. Some black men have put me in near continuous orgasm until I felt I was brain damaged in the morning. Now don't get me wrong. Not all black men can do that for me. That is why I reserve my flirtations for those men who are of great height, extra dark, lanky and charismatic. I want an African alpha male. After I experienced a truly great African lover, I was hooked. I still love Jim and love making love to Jim. But with my black boyfriends its different, when we fuck, it isn't making love; we're having wild, uninhibited sex."
I found myself getting aroused listening to Sally's explanation.
"When you decide you're ready, you and I can go to club in the dark side of town," Sally said. "I'll introduce you to some of my friends. They love young married white women. But when you go you need to be aware that the general rules of courtship won't apply there; you're in their realm, but you are not one of them. In that club, the black guys aren't going to treat you the way white guys would or the way they treat black girls. We're at the mercy of our own wits and the charged lusting of energetic black men driven by our dainty white femininity." She stopped for a moment and smiled. "They know why we're there. The guys are bigger, tougher, faster, more coordinated, better dressed, better dancers, they love fucking white girls, and they expect to fuck or at least get their dicks sucked off before the night is over."
"What do you mean when I'm ready?" I asked a bit taken back. "What makes you think I'd cheat on Rick?"
"You've told me what your sex life is like. You're too young and sensual to go through the rest of your life with no more gratification than that. I believe you'll tell me when you're ready to experience sex as you've never experienced it before."
I pondered that discussion for many weeks. I thought about the risks, but I couldn't get the images Sally left me with out of my mind. She definitely piqued my curiosity. I found myself being more aware of the looks good looking black men gave me when I was out. During my "toy time" I found myself fantasizing that I was being taken by a large black man.
Finally after having vacillated back and forth many times, I worked up enough courage to drive a stake into the ground. I picked up the phone and told Sally I was ready to take her up on her offer. Both our husbands would be away at camp for deer season, and we decided to get together that first Saturday night. Having made the commitment, I was scared and visibly shaking when I hung up the phone.
There were butterflies in my stomach as I turned away from the mirror upon hearing Sally open the side door and call out a greeting.
Entering the club, we found seats at a small table. The first thing that struck me was the number of really good looking white women that were there. About half the women there were white, beautifully dressed and gorgeous, but there were no white men. I noticed several of the women were wearing wedding rings, but none of their partners were. It was clear that the club was all about pampered white women being fucked by big rutting black men. We all hear about clubs like this, but we never expect to find ourselves, as young brides, dolled up at our best, nerves like butterflies-actually being there.
Recognizing Sally, two men sauntered over to our table. Sally greeted each with a quick kiss, and then introduced us. Sally and Darnell left for the dance floor and Wendell promptly asked me to dance. I was captivated immediately by the sound of his deep, mellow voice. Still, I was so nervous and scared that I had to work not to trip as I stood up. I welcomed the opportunity to move about on the dance floor. I concentrated on dancing, allowing the flashing lights and beat of the music to take over my body, postponing thinking about what I was getting myself into. While I might play at flirting, I'm rather prudish and stuck-up actually, but as I moved and made my sexy dancing faces....I was finding myself wondering if he found me sexy. I can't explain, but I felt a desire to be desired by him.
Wendell was as excellent dancer as my husband was inept. Catching a glimpse of the two of us in a mirror, I marveled at the way we looked together, his size overwhelming my slender 5'5" figure, his darkness contrasting with my paleness, the two of us united by a common rhythm. When Rick danced, he looked to be in such pain that I'd stopped encouraging him. Dancing with Wendell, I was having more fun dancing than I'd had in many years.
Not paying a whole lot of attention to who was around me, I was bumped hard by a black girl. Wendell quickly pulled himself up to his full six and a half foot height and inserted himself between the woman, her escort and me as if daring either to do anything more. Nothing else happened. That display of power and the obvious respect it commanded made a strong impression. His defense for me struck a primal cord deep within me. I was under his protection, and at some level I felt I had become his possession.
My initial fear and apprehension was gradually being overtaken by excitement. I felt as if an erotic spell was being cast over me. I began to sense an instinctive erotic draw to the powerful man moving in front of me. He didn't hesitate to dance close, grinding his body into mine, and I started grinding back. As we began to slowly freak dance, I found myself loving the feeling. Our dancing had become foreplay. We were surrounded by other couples grinding and dancing as we were. I could feel the sexual tension in the room. Everyone was turned on, including me. There was a different feel there than other dance clubs, all the couples on the floor being black and white, so many of those women married, like me.
Fear and excitement had become arousal. My hard nipples were clearly visible through the thin fabric of my dress. I sensed the wetness growing in my pussy. Dancing with my body pressed against his, I felt the growing hardness at his groin, which further fueled my arousal. Dancing like that I really became aware of how very dark-black he was, and tall. *sigh*
When we took a break I was able to get Sally alone to ask, "They were expecting us weren't they?"
"Yes, Wendell's just the person to be your first black lover. There is nothing he loves more than breaking young, gorgeous, married white women like you. He's very well endowed and very skilled. Tonight he'll take you to places you've never been before."
"Did you tell him that I've never had a black man?"
