I enjoy comments on my stories, both the public ones and the private ones. Suggestions and opinions are welcome. But some comments on my past stories suggest that there should have been some warning about the theme. This is an erotic story involving interracial play and married women straying from their husband. If the idea of a black man fucking a married white woman bothers you, you should move on to another story.
As an Introduction, I'm Devon, a 32 year-old black man now living in Chicago, the city where I was born and raised. I work for a mid-sized investment bank and travel a fair amount. I'm 6' 4" and a good athlete, all city in high school basketball and all state in football. I received a scholarship to play college football on the west coast, where I was an all conference tight end freshman year, but a severe off the field injury curtailed my career. So I hit the books got a degree in economics, and then an MBA, and I now have a pretty good life.
My weakness, or at least my kink, is married women. Specifically, white married women. No use psychoanalyzing the motives, but there are aspects, which I will over time describe, that just make married white women much more of a sexual turn on than more "normal" relationships. My other kink is I'm a dominant man -- not that I enjoy inflicting pain or wearing weird attire, but I know what I enjoy and clearly communicate my desires and expectations. Typically, my playmates are older than me, but not always. Sometimes I meet them on line (which I prefer) before we meet in person, but sometimes the original meeting is in person. Most of these experiences have been during the past five years, although there are some exceptions. I'm not telling these experiences in chronological order -- just the order of what's in my head when I'm writing.
To get more background on Tammy, you can read the previous Tammy chapters.
That next Friday, Tammy came by for our usual morning fun. She wasn't as focused as normal. We did have our typical three-part sex -- Her sucking my dick, me fucking her to several climaxes, and then her finishing me off with her mouth. But I could tell there was a lot on her mind.
I asked, "Was Monday's session too much?"
She said, "No. I couldn't do anal every time we met, but I need to try that again sometime. I was unprepared for how different it made me feel."
"Did you feel good or bad?"
"Almost all good. I never felt that type of wonderful before. I was completely under your power. But it was intense. I could never relax. Thank you for being patient. It makes me want to try again."
"That's good."
"Greg and I talked last night about his desire to see you fuck me."
"Has he made up his mind?"
"He said he thinks so. He plans on telling you on Sunday, but he said he knows he might change his mind before then."
"Do you think he has any idea that we're already fucking?"
"Not at all. I thought my willingness to consider the idea might tip him off, but you and I have played it cool, so he really doesn't have a clue."
"And what about his wife? What does she think?"
"Before this week there were two parts of me. The naughty part who wanted to make him our little cuckold, and the nice part who felt sorry for him. But since he has told me he wants to explore, I'm now 100% sure I want him to watch us. I do feel sorry for him."
"How so?"
"He has no idea how different you are. Last night, in part because I felt sorry for him, and in part because I wanted to prepare him, I seduced him a bit."
"What was that like?"
"I encouraged him to take charge more. But in the end we just had basic dull intercourse. He kept asking if I was enjoying, which got annoying. So I faked a small orgasm, and he came, and that was it."
"Kind of like us."
She laughed. "Our least eventful fuck is 10 times more intense than Greg and mine best experience."
We talked for a few more minutes, and then it was time to go.
Sunday, I got to the gym at 10:30, ahead of our 11:00 game. All the players from our team, along with all the players on team we beat in our first game, gathered around the league director. I had assumed that the two captains (Andrew for our team) would pick players, but instead, they had each team vote to choose the new captain from the other team. Our players voted for the same guy who was their captain in the first game, but their players voted for me. When it came to choosing players, their captain chose first, since they had lost the first game. He chose Phil, our tallest player besides me. I chose Andrew -- he was the best player available. I looked at Greg, and he seemed sad. Then after the other team chose someone, I picked a player who was originally on the other team. For my third pick, I chose yet another player who was originally on the other team. I thought both of the players were better than Greg, but Greg seemed more and more upset. Finally, the other team's captain chose Greg with his fourth pick. We continued picking until both teams were filled. I noticed Tammy in the stands.
In the first quarter the game was pretty even. Most of my teammates didn't move much. I was passing a lot to them but they weren't doing much with the passes. So starting in the second quarter, I started either setting screens for Andrew, or vice versa. Most of the time Greg was playing on Andrew, which often meant after a screen, he would switch on to me. Each time that happened, I was able to score, typically on a layup. We were up by 8 points at the half, and 18 at the end of the 3rd quarter. Each time I beat Greg for a basket, he got more and more frustrated.
I rested a bit on the bench to begin the 4th quarter, but then came back after they cut our lead down to 12. On two straight plays I beat Greg for a basket, once on a layup, and another on a short shot. Then with about two minutes left in the game I stole the ball and drove into the front court. Greg was defending me one on one. I made a move which Greg fell for, giving me about 6 feet of separation. I drove to the basket and went up for a dunk. Greg came at me fast and had all the momentum. As I went up we collided, but despite his momentum, he just bounced off me as I continued to rise, and I jammed the ball in the basket. Greg fell to the floor, a bit shaken, and the ball came to rest by his head. There were a few "whoops" from those in the stands, and even from some of Greg's teammates. We ended up winning by 24.
After the game, Greg was really angry. He barely shook hands with me. I went to Andrew and told him I was out for the next few weeks. Without the consistency of a team, these games were more about one on one basketball, which I didn't enjoy. He asked me to think about it, but I said I was sure. After showering, I went to Greg.
I said, "It's only a game, man."
"You crushed me."
"You gotta let it go. Come on, I'll buy you lunch."
I patted him on the shoulder. Eventually he smiled, and we were off to lunch.
We talked a bit about the game, but we both knew what happened. Then I told him I was leaving the team. After the food was served, I took charge of the conversation.
I asked, "Is there something you're going to ask me?"
"Yes ... um ... have you thought about ... um ... our discussion?
"You mean about me fucking your wife?"
"Yes."
"I've thought about it. But you both really need to want it."
"I talked to her. She does."
"Does she know I'm a dominant?"
"Yes."
"O.K. she wants it. But do you?" To make the point, I drove my index finger into his chest.
"I think so."
"This isn't a time for thinking. It's a time for knowing."
"Yes, I know so."