The Date 24

It’s got to be the not knowing that’s killing me. I let my wife go out on a date tonight. That by itself is a first, but this date . . . . Now I’m just sitting here twiddling my thumbs having already exhausted my dick. She said she would tell me everything, but my imagination has already overwhelmed me.

This evening we met for an early dinner after work. We went through the usual small talk, but she seemed nervous, so I asked her to spill it. What was bothering her?

“Remember how we talked about seeing other people?” she asked. Immediately I knew what she meant. For years it had been my fantasy to see her seduced by another man while I watched. She would listen and admit that the idea aroused her, but never expressed any interest in actually doing it. Once, when I pressed her, she said she would think about it, and if she ever met the right man, she would remember that she could ask me. But that was years ago. Now her gaze dropped to the table as she fidgeted with her food. I could feel my pants get tight as my dick filled with blood. “Well, I think I’d like to do that now.” She looked up at me, trying to read my expression.

Recovering from my immediate shock, I had to adjust my dick, which had become uncomfortably stiff in its current place. “Well, tell me a little more about it.” I replied dryly. “I mean, who? When? What do you mean ‘date’?” It had always been clear, or so I thought, that this meant a sex date, and I was supposed to be involved, somehow.

“First, I have to know if its OK to go on with this. I mean, I never really believed you wanted me to do this,” she said.

I was surprised at how excited I was. I didn’t think she had ever seriously considered this before, but now I had to deal with the real prospect of her going out with and fucking another man. Questions assailed my mind. But I knew I could only get them answered one at a time. I temporized with myself; I had not said yes yet. “No, no, Honey. I guess I meant what I said. Anyway, I’m fascinated. And horny. You have to tell me more. You have to tell me everything,” I added with a leer. She knew what I meant, I wanted details, no matter what happened.

She took a deep breath. “OK, I’ve met a man at work. He’s with the Baltimore group, so he isn’t in town very often. He’s asked me out a dozen times, but I’ve always said no. But its been bothering me. The last couple of times I’ve wanted to say yes.” Now she was talking fast. She was still pretty unsure about bringing this to me, I guess.

“So what changed your mind?” I prodded.

“He’s gorgeous. Tall, muscled, polite, clean. The project is almost over for his group and I don’t have to worry about him popping up again, and neither do you. Besides, I don’t think he’s interested in anything more either.”

“Then what you really want is just to sleep with him,” I stated, just to be sure. I never thought she wanted a relationship or anything, but I thought I should put it on the table. I also wanted to make sure that this was all she wanted. My fantasy always ended in hot sex for her, and this was what excited me most, of course, but I was not comfortable with keeping him around afterwards.

She looked up and held my gaze a moment, “Yes, just that,” she said.

My cock was rock hard now and I forgot about not encouraging her. “OK, I want more,” I said. “I want to know all about him, what you plan to do with him, and then afterwards I want to know everything you did with him.” My enthusiasm seemed to please her, or maybe she was just relieved.

“What decided me, I guess, was when I talked to Rose about him.” I knew Rose as her wild workmate. Rose was young and attractive, talked about everything she did, and she did a lot. She had kissed and told many times and her exploits were legendary at Amy’s office. “Rose slept with him once last spring, and her report was something to hear. He’s married, but obviously strays. She says his cock is the biggest she’s ever seen, and you know she’s seen a lot. He gave her three hours one night, and then again in the morning. She said she had to stop him! Wearing Rose out, imagine! Anyway, she also says he has ‘the touch’ as she calls it. He takes his time and knows how to treat a woman in bed. Like I said, he’s about 6’1, lean with nice muscles. He’s an engineer.”

She smiled as she described him, but didn’t look me in the eye. “Wore Rose out huh?” I asked. “So tell me about his cock. I know Rose likes to talk about that more than anything.”

Now she did look me in the eye. “Rose exaggerates, but she swears he’s got ten inches and thick as her wrist. She could barely get her mouth around it. What more do you want? I mean, there’s not much more to it. Big is good, but its more in how he uses it. Rose says he’s nice and gentle when you want him to be. And you’re fine, honey, but I’d like to try a really big one, too.”

Something in the way she was looking at me got my attention, there was something I was missing here. Then I remembered something else about Rose. “Honey, Rose is black.” Amy looked away. “Black – black, Honey. Ethnic black. Does she see white guys now, then?” An uncomfortable awareness was growing in my mind.

Even as she said it, it hit me like a sledge hammer, “No, Honey, Rose doesn’t do white guys.” I was bowled over for a second time tonight, this time I felt light headed. The image of her pale white body spread wide under a sweating, laboring black giant forced itself upon me and my whole body tingled. In my image Amy cried out as the giant raised himself above her, only the root of his jet black pole visible above her thin muff as he rutted on her. Just that thick bit bobbing in and out, with so much more jammed up inside of her, massaging her where I had never reached. “He’s black. So? He’s just a man. It took me a little while to get used to the idea, but he’s hot. Honey, are you OK?” she finally asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “Let’s go home and I’ll think about it.”

“Think about it on the way. I made the date for later tonight at Tongue in Groove,” she said with a wry look. Again I was shocked. She had made plans and it was about to happen now, too soon for me to digest. And I had to decide now? That wasn’t very fair. We rode home in silence.

At home, Amy showered. I sat on the bed, wrestling with my image and all the rush of emotions. What was she thinking? I watched her emerge from the shower. Amy is a thin woman, about 5’10”. She exercises and has a very well toned body. Her breasts are small Bs, but fit her slim figure perfectly. Her hair is shoulder length and brown, and she has a thin black muff. As I watched her dry and lotion herself, I adjusted my image of her with the black giant. I was incredibly aroused.

She walked over and stood in front of me, towel on hair, naked. “Well, I’ve got to get ready. Can you speak?” She was so beautiful nude, but I was speechless. I just gazed at her curves, lovingly, admiringly. Then she went over to her dresser and began to select her clothes.

“Are you gonna suck him off?” I asked. “What did Rose say about that?”

“I’m sure it will come up. You know me, I’m no great sucker, but I sure don’t mind a beautiful cock. I mean, it sure is a turn on for the girl, and it really gets you him the mood.” Returning to the mirror she paused “I wonder if they taste different? Its been a long time since I even had another man, and I’ve never tasted a black guy.” Now the image of his ten inch ebony tool slipping over her red lips and tongue appeared in my mind’s eye. Her ivory jaw dropped low and she drew some of him into her mouth and then out again, leaving him slick with her saliva. She licked her lips, savoring his flavor. “Honey?”

I snapped back to reality, “Huh? Oh, I don’t know, I imagine they are pretty much the same. Asian women taste the same. Mexican too. Are you gonna swallow?” My mouth was dry and I continued to toy with my fantasy, now she sucked faster.

“If he comes, sure! There’s not much else to do when they do, you know. Its kinda part of the experience.” Now in my fantasy kept stroking with her mouth against the suddenly sagging giant black dick. As she pulled back a thin string of semen followed her lips.

“So what else did Rose do?” I wanted to encourage her to talk. With every new scene in my mind I grew more and more excited, if that was possible.

“She said the foreplay lasted an hour, then they fucked for three more. She pulled his clothes off slowly, blew him till he came, then he undressed her and went down on her. By the time he came up she could hardly wait for him to just fuck her. They did it all sorts of ways. He was so big and long she got sore, but she kept coming.”

“How many times?” I asked. The real measure of a man.

“Three big ones and a little one. Plus one the next day. She says she was sore for a week,” she replied.

“How are you gonna’ do it?” I asked. “Any favorites you’re dying to try?” I tried to keep my voice steady. The excitement and maybe a little anxiety might have made it tremble a little bit.

“A few,” she smiled. “But with three hours I guess I can try them all. Missionary, doggy, cowboy. I intend to get as worn out as Rose did. I’ve listened to her stories so often I have to wonder if it can really be done.” Now in my fantasy the black giant was laboring over her as she lay limp, exhausted, used up. His energy was unstoppable though as he pulled her onto her knees and penetrated her from behind, his 10 inch tool dripping with his semen and her juices. Amy continued to speak slowly as she unrolled her hair, “In fact, I’m anxious to try every thing on Rose’s list. This guy did them all and did them well.”

Knowing Rose, I had to ask, “Anal?”

She was pulling up the panties she had selected. It was a black satin French cut g-string. The kind that leave no lines and can be easily rolled aside at the crotch. I had never seen them; they were new. “Yes, dear, you know Rose.”

“Not Rose, honey, you.” We had never done this. While it intrigued us both, I found it a little unappealing and had just never had the guts.

She had selected a perfume and was dabbing it on her wrists, her neck, her nipples, her belly, and then she lifted her hem an put a dab on the lips of her vagina. “If he wants,” she finally said. I was silent. “Rose has talked me into it. She says he’s very gentle. I’ve got to do it right and if I get what I want so should he.” She sounded resolved. I was horrified at the image that came into view now of Amy, my wife, wincing and groaning into a pillow as the black giant abused her back passage, leaving a load of semen dribbling out of her. A sobering question popped into mind.

“Are you taking a rubber? Er, rubbers?” I asked.

“No honey.” Now she walked over to me and touched my cheek. “Its not the time of month. I don’t like rubbers either, and my diaphragm is such a chore. I want to feel his skin on mine. C’mon, kiss me. I’ve got to put on lipstick.” We kissed and she went to the closet, where her short black evening dress was hanging out.

“What did you mean ‘If you get what you want…’?” Clearly, she had planned all of this. How could she know I would agree to it all in one evening?

“I just want three hours of fucking a hung stud and I am willing to get a little twisted and sore. I’ve been thinking about it for months and I just don’t think I want anything else. I don’t expect you to know what ….” She spun around and glared at me. “He’s ten inches! I want that in my pussy. I want him to drive it in. I want it slow and fast. I want to grind on it while he sucks my nipples. I want to lick bourbon off his cock and then lay back while he splits me in half. I want multiple orgasms without my vibrator. I want to press my ivory white ass against his hips and pull his balls up against my twat while he pumps me like a dog.” By now she was raising her voice and it seemed she was tired of my questions.

“I don’t want you to go,” I said softly. Now I felt a pit of fear in my stomach. I could give her very little of that, I had not been that interesting a lover. I sure wasn’t anywhere near ten inches.

She grabbed her little purse and strode over to me. She stroked my face. I slipped my hands up her dress and over her pussy. She was wet. She pushed my hand away. “Not now, I want to be fresh for him. Maybe tomorrow . . . if I’m not too sore.” Then she grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled hard. He face was stony now. “But I’m going. Everything I said? I want it. I need it. I’m going to take it. I want him to have me.”

With that she walked away. “We’ll be at the Hilton under my name. I’ll beep you when we get there so you know I’m safe. Don’t call, no one will answer. I’ll be back late, maybe tomorrow.” I followed her shyly to the door. She took her coat and turned right before she shut the door “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure and tell you every detail.”

Now its 3 AM and she still isn’t home. She beeped at 10 PM, so they’ve been there 5 hours. I wrote down everything I could remember. I’ve jacked off till my suddenly too small dick is sore to touch. Maybe she’s waiting for the morning fuck too?