Our relationship had started as a young hot girl flirting with an older married man. The problem was that both of us were unhappy in our relationships. We told each other often how much we disliked our partners and how we wanted out. Neither of us realized at the time that we were feeling each other out.
Quickly, our relationship became sexual. We were both cheating and it was fun and exciting. But, soon we were much more involved and we both left our partners and moved in with each other. We were happy and life was one sexual adventure after another.
As it turns out, I was, unknowingly, a sex addict and she was a damaged little girl who felt she had no value other than sex. She got me into a swinger's lifestyle. I didn't know it existed before that, but once exposed it was like crack to an addict. I couldn't get enough. I wanted to push boundaries all the time. And I discovered that I could manipulate her to do whatever I wanted.
I didn't realize I was doing it at first, but once I did I pushed even harder. I am not proud of it, but I am turned on by it. I am back with my wife, and Heather is a distant memory, but I can't get the things we did out of my head.
Heather was from a racist family and she had never been with a black guy before. Once I found that out, that became one of my obsessions. Finally, we met a guy named Brian and she fucked him. She fucked him for the first time in the backseat of our car as we were going to our friends house for game night.
She was louder than normal and as she rode him, she dug her nails into the sides of my neck. She sucked his cock and swallowed his cum.
I loved it.
She liked Brian, and fucked him many more times. She fucked several other black guys as well. It wasn't, however, until I set up a threesome with two black guys we had never met that I found out that she still didn't like black guys, except for Brian. She was fucking them because I wanted her to, but she thought black guys smelled funny and she didn't like the "thug" look that some of them had.
That just made me want to make her fuck more. So, it became a steady diet of black guys.
And this time, it was a surprise. She knew we were going to some guys' house after work, but she didn't know who.
She took clothes to work to change into. She picked out a short black skirt, no panties, and a white button up shirt with a black push up bra.
It was an outfit she had worn several times before, and the bra forced her perfect tits up and together giving the best view of her cleavage and the skirt was so short, that her ass was almost exposed as she walked.
She changed before we left work and all of our friends knew what we were going out for. They all commented on how hot she looked and that they wished they had the courage to do what we did. I told a couple of the guys, in her presence, that all they had to do was say the word and they could fuck her.
She smiled at that, It was something we had discussed several times. We both thought her being known as the work slut was hot, and she did end up fucking about half the guys at work on a varying degree of regularity.
But this night, we had plans. She had no idea those plans involved her getting fucked by two black guys who had been told she likes it rough and she likes to be verbally humiliated.
We sat outside the house in the car and I asked her if she was sure she wanted to go in. She said yes. She always said yes. She said yes even when she wanted to say no. I could tell when she was hesitant and earlier in our relationship I would call it off.
But not now. Now I would press her on further, never letting on that I noticed her discomfort. I had watched her being fucked by several guys and called a whore mercilessly and I just stuck my cock in her mouth to suck. And she did.
When Rob opened the door, she was immediately taken aback, but tried not to let on. I noticed, but I don't think Rob did. He invited us in and introduced us to his friend, Doug.
Both men were black, in their early thirties, both had shaved heads and baggy shorts. Just the kind of guy that scared her.
I lead her to the couch and placed her between them on the sofa, symbolically offering her up to them. She sat with her arms crossed over her chest and looked at me with pleading eyes, which I ignored, of course.
We began to talk, initially about football, but I began to feel shortly that if things didn't start soon, they might not ever get started.
I looked Heather in the eyes, and nodded, almost imperceptibly, toward Rob. She continued to stare at me, begging me to stop, but I acted as if I didn't notice.
"Rob, Heather is being shy. Why don't you take her top off?" I said.
"You sure?" he asked.
"She has perfect tits. They should never be covered." I replied.
"Is that OK?" he asked her hesitantly.
