"Ohhh! God!!"
"Oh God! Richarddd!!"
Ashley was cumming on him again. She moaned loudly, clutching into his large arms as the pleasure overtook her body. It was her third time tonight.
I never tired of watching her orgasm, especially when it was all over Richard's behemoth.
I was standing nude a few feet away from our bed, it was my usual spot during their love making. I pumped my own orgasm, squirting my seed onto the hardwood flooring below. I usually finished in Ashley, or at the very least, on top of her - but on this night my cuckolding was too visually stimulating, and I lost control.
Richard grunted deeply as he pulled his cock out of my wife, erupting in usual and impressive fashion, launching rope after rope of his cum across Ashley's heavy breasts and trim tummy. She squeezed her tits together, watching intently as his cum splashed across her skin, coating her goosebumped flesh and erect nipples. I could see the appreciation and attraction in her eyes as she watched him cum, she adored his masculine appendage.
After the three of us came down from our sexual high, we all laughed, as we usually did. We had been doing this for nearly two years now, and after all this time I would expected it to lose at least a fraction of its intensity. It didn't.
I walked over to my wife, who appeared to be recovering from her orgasm. Richard was standing, wiping the sweat from his brow, and I couldn't help but to notice his engorged black cock starting to deflate as he looked for his clothes near our bed. I leaned down and kissed Ashley, as I normally did when they were finished. It would have usually been my cue to mount and reclaim her, but as I said, tonight I came too early.
As crazy as it is to say, over the last couple years my wife and I had embraced the cuckolding lifestyle. Richard was our respectful, loving, and dominant bull. He never pushed us, at least not into uncomfortable or disrespectful territory. He also never made any distrustful attempts to have Ashley when I wasn't around. He knew his role, and frankly, it was first and foremost as our friend. More often than not, we would see Richard separate from a sexual setting. The three of us would occasionally go to a movie together, sometimes dinner. There were even many times where Richard and I would catch a sports game, without Ashley. Outside of the bedroom it was a respectful and fulfilling friendship, but inside the bedroom, everyone knew their role.
Their lovemaking was always amazing to watch. I never tired of seeing Ashley's womanhood stretch to accommodate Richard's incredible size. My wife would yield powerful vaginal orgasms to him, ones that I couldn't provide her with, and she would always scream passionately as she came. They way she would cream on his manhood, the way she would moan and clutch his body, the way her eyes would roll to the back of her head. There was no denying that my wife loved when he was inside of her, and reconciling that truth proved to be an insane spark or eroticism for our marriage. There were obviously moments where I felt embarrassed, or even mildly humiliated, but I think part of being cuckolded is mastering those feelings and transforming them into a deep arousal. I had gotten very good at doing that, and I never felt quite as aroused as when I was watching the two of them in the throes of lust. Every now and then they would kiss, and Ashley would let her words escape, confirming to us both that she would always be Richard's "black cock slut." Those comments were strikingly racy, and fueled by her passion. But once we were out of the bedroom, she was right back to being my loving wife. No one in our day to day lives would have ever suspected Ashley as a cuckoldress, and that only proved to make our secret sex life that much more exciting.
"You boys won't see me for a couple weeks." Ashley spoke with exaggerated disappointment, using a towel to clean her breasts of sweat and seed. She was heading out of state to visit her best friend from grade school, who was about to be giving birth to twins. I was originally going to fly out with her, but something came up at work, and we both felt it smarter for me to stay home and take care of it.
"Truly devastating." Richard replied, as he closed his belt loop, dressing himself.
"To be honest with you, I don't know how we're going to survive." I added. "Don't blame me if you come back to a disaster." I spoke in a joking manner.
Ashley had thrown on her nightie, breasts bouncing naturally beneath the thin silken fabric. She spoke, "Oh no you don't! Richard you better make sure he keeps this place clean!"
Richard looked up at me smiling, now buttoning his shirt, "We may need to rethink that party, John."
I laughed, and Ashley rolled her eyes in frustration, as she headed into the bathroom to finish cleaning up.
My two weeks of bachelor freedom started with a lot of beer, and a lot of televised sports. I loved my wife more than life itself, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying the carefree evenings without responsibility. Richard would stop by and join me, usually bringing dinner with him. "God knows you aren't cooking." He would jokingly add.
One night, we actually took in an NBA game down at the arena. Richard treated me by purchasing seats only a few rows back from the court. It ended up being a great game, and a fun night, both of us throwing back premium scotch with reckless abandon.
We eventually stumbled back home, and I thanked him as we said our goodbyes for the evening. I made a mental note that I'd have to pay him back somehow. Suddenly, and to my amusement, I remembered he was regularly sleeping with my wife - and I jokingly told myself that we'd call it even.
As I began getting ready for bed, Ashley called.
"Hey baby." She spoke, seemingly happy to hear my voice. "What did you get into tonight?"
"Richard and I went to the game." I paused, appreciating the night, "It was actually a lot of fun."
I could hear her smile through the phone. "That's nice. I bet the two of you had a ton of female attention."
"Well you know me. Luckily Richard was there to keep them at bay. At one point he had to shove away three separate girls who were trying to get to me."
That comment garnered a loud laugh from Ashley, "Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly how it went."
I chuckled, and she continued. "Do me a favor and open my nightstand babe. I wanted to give Erica the name of the author from that book I'm reading."
I rolled across the bed, pulling open the drawer below and picking up the book in question, "Roberta Henrikson" I replied.
I heard the commotion of female voices in the background as she told one of them the name, and then she replied to me, "Thanks baby. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Love you."
"Love you too." I replied.
As I moved to place the book back in the nightstand something caught my eye. It was my wife's diary, barely visible beneath another large novel. I picked it up, driven by curiosity. I knew my wife kept a diary, and I knew she wrote in it often. It was strange to me, a grown woman still keeping one, but I suppose it wasn't unheard of.
I don't know why I opened it, but I did. I'd like to blame it on the scotch, but I knew there was a deeper curiosity there as well.
I flipped the pages, getting a general sense of the span of the book. It was a massive composition type binding, more a tomb really. It spanned multiple years, dating back to before we were even married. I don't know why I did what I did, but my instinct carried my thumbs, moving the pages back to a couple years ago, when we first moved in to the apartment. I quickly found the date that I was subconsciously looking for, and my mouth went dry as I read the first sentence.
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I slept with Richard last night!
