Morgan the Organ

Later that summer, to give us a break, Laura's parents agreed to visit and babysit while we got a hotel room in the city for some "couples' time," aka, a two-day sex romp.

Late Friday afternoon, after kissing the children goodbye and waving to Laura's parents, we set out on the short walk to the train station. With a few minutes to spare before our train, we stopped at the brew pub for happy hour.

We had barely sipped our craft beers when in walked Darla followed by a tall, good-looking black guy I immediately pegged as Morgan. If I'd had any doubts, Laura's audible gasp at the sight of him dispelled them.

Darla recognized us and came over to say hello. I shook hands with Morgan. He was strikingly handsome but different than I expected. There was something Asiatic about his eyes and high-cheekbones, kind of like the porn star Isiah Maxwell.

They joined us for a drink, their manner lowkey and unassuming. Morgan didn't flirt with Laura, and Darla wasn't insinuating like she was with me that day at the spa. They were just two service employees weary after a long day.

It was only Laura who gave away the underlying sexual tension. Her eyes went glassy, and her cheeks turned rosy. I could swear even her lips seemed to swell with lust. She laughed too loud at things that weren't funny, rambled nervously for long stretches, then lapsed into catatonic silences while gazing at Morgan like a lovestruck teenybopper. To be honest, it was kind of embarrassing.

But neither of them seemed to pay any mind to Laura's flustered behavior. I guess both were used to women drooling over Morgan in public.

After a while, Darla finished her drink and left, wishing us all a good weekend.

Noticing our bags, Morgan asked, "Where ya'll heading?"

"A little getaway to the city," I said. "For the weekend."

"Some alone time. I heard that," he said, sipping his IPA. "That's how a marriage stays strong." He smiled at me. A shudder ran through my body. It was happening.

"You're a city guy," my voice said, quaveringly, my mouth going dry. "Where's a good place to hang out, near the St. Regis?"

Laura kicked me under the table.

"Saint Regis, huh?" He rubbed is chin. "Well, I might say..." He named a trendy bar.

"Cool, uh, well, we might, possibly be there around eight, if you're..."

"Yeah, yeah, maybe I'll see you there." He finished his beer. "But if not, you too have fun now." He stood, flashed us a handsome leer, and left. Had anyone known us in the bar, they wouldn't have understood what just occurred.

When he was gone, Laura hissed, "What was that? We never discussed this."

"Let's discuss it now. If it's a no, all we have to do is not show up."

As we checked into our room, changed for dinner, and were seated at one of the city's best French restaurants, Laura's reluctance to meet Morgan continued to harden.

"What about disease?" she snapped. "Have you thought about that?"

I sipped red wine. "There's a CVS across the street. I'll buy extra-large condoms after dinner."

But it wasn't STDs that worried her, not really. It was the fear of flouting society's cherished norms, something she'd spent a lifetime dreading. By dessert she was practically in tears.

"Please don't ask me to do this," she implored. "I just can't. It's too much. On so many levels. It's just too much."

I reached across the table and clasped her hand. "Laura, I've known you for 17 years. I can say for certain that a part of you really wants this. And I know that terrifies you. But for once in your life do something for yourself, without caring what the world thinks. Don't you deserve it? Haven't you been the good Catholic, the good wife, the good mother, the good everything?"

Her expression told me I'd hit a nerve.

"I accept that you can lust for other people. You think I don't lust for other women sometimes? But lust isn't the same as love. And you must believe me when I say I'll never stop loving you no matter what happens tonight."

"And you're not embarrassed? For wanting this?"

"Well, I wouldn't say I'd want the whole world to know. But embarrassed? No. More like excited. It's an adventure."

She shook her head and looked away. "We might be opening a Pandora's box here."

I squeezed her hand. "There's risk in every aspect of life. I'll be there. I won't let anything bad happen to you. Now and forever."

"I'm not promising anything," Laura warned. "Just one drink."

"That's all I ask," I assured her.

Morgan had not steered us wrong. His recommended meeting spot was upscale, tastefully lit and crowed with mostly 30- and 40-somethings. We took seats at the bar.

When he made his entrance, he'd transformed from the weary spa employee of a few hours before. Every female head in the place turned to check him out. Sporting a form-fitting white, short-sleeved, band-collared dress shirt, tight charcoal slacks, tan dress shoes and a wide gold belt that drew attention to his bulging crotch, he looked exactly like what he was: a hot young guy on the prowl for pussy.

He greeted us like old friends, kissing and hugging Laura, complimenting her one-piece, blue and white stripped dress.

I could see my wife again reacting not only the attractive face and magnificent body but now also to the ego-flattering fact that, of all the many beautiful women in the bar, he was there to meet

her

--and they knew it.

We spent the next hour getting to know him as a human being, rather than a sex object, which, let's face it, until that point was pretty much all he was to us. He turned out to be intelligent, funny and well spoken, despite not having a college degree. He knew a lot of New Age-y stuff about yoga, diet and mediation, subjects Laura follows. Although he focused mostly on her and touched her leg a couple of times to make points, his manner remained respectful, not flirtatious or vulgar.

Finally, I broke the ice by saying Laura had been nervous about meeting him tonight. This got him talking about his multiple experiences with other white couples, who were also nervous at first. He understood the dynamic of wanting to explore an interracial threesome in a safe, judgment-free zone. "In the end, none of the couples I've been with have regretted it," he said. "But there's no pressure. This is just a meet and greet. We can take things at your own pace."

Later, when he left to use the men's room, we looked at each other.

"This is crazy," she said, nervously laughing.

"Bonkers," I agreed.

"I just wasn't expecting him to be so

nice

."

"I know, right? He's, like, cool to hang out with. You'd think he'd be arrogant, because..."

"I guess that's why he's so successful at...with..."

"Yeah."

Hand trembling, she gulped her drink. "Are we really doing this?" she said.

"God help us, I think we are." My mouth was dry again, my wish about to come true. Was I ready? Did it matter? Sexual destiny was at hand.

Back from the men's room, Morgan announced, "Well, shall we take this party to the next level?"

I heard myself say, "Yes, let's go back to our room for a drink." Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Laura was silent as we all glided out to the street.

On the way to the hotel, my wife and Morgan held hands. It happened naturally, like a couple on a first date, which in some insanely bizarre way, they were. I avoided eye contact with the hotel staff as we traversed the lobby...

In the elevator, Morgan took both her hands and stared deep into her eyes. Then he kissed her gently on the lips. She responded, placing her arms around his shoulders, and before long they were passionately making out. This somehow caught me by surprise. We'd fantasied about every conceivable sex act with Morgan--but never kissing. Maybe because of its innocent, romantic connotations. Which of course made it all the more erotic to watch.

Suddenly I remembered something I had wanted to say earlier. "Ah, Morgan." I tapped him on the shoulder. "If I could just quickly interject. Please be gentle with her. We've never done anything like, and I just want everything to go smoothly."

Briefly breaking the kiss, he said, "No worries, boss," and gave me a wink. Then he grabbed Laura's plump ass with both hands and their tongues intertwined again.

Once in the room, they continued kissing, and Laura immediately started rubbing the growing bulge in his pants. She moaned in lust at first contact with the cock she had spent so many weeks dreaming about.

He placed both hands on her shoulders. Needing no other persuasion, she sank to her knees and fumbled with his belt buckle and zipper. He watched indulgently as she lowered his slacks, and, fingers trembling, grasped the waistband of his briefs. In one over-eager motion, she stripped the underwear down, and his giant cock sprang forth, bumping her chin. Her hand encircled the base and lifted it skyward.

"Oh my God," she marveled, finding her voice for the first time since leaving the bar. "Will you look at this thing. It's even more gorgeous than I imagined!" She craned her neck to inspect it from different angles, spellbound by its grandeur.

She was right to be. To see it in person was nothing short of awe-inspiring. The giant prick became the main focus of the room. It was at least 10 inches long and very wide, with an even wider, prominent head. The shaft had a slight leftward curve.

Laura clumsily attempted to suck the colossal slab of man-meat before her. Although she'd practiced many times on our toys, she'd never blown one from a kneeling position. Plus none of our dildos were as wide as Morgan's girthy shaft. So she spent a lot of time awkwardly kissing along the sides and licking underneath the head.

Despite her inexperience, she was clearly in cock-worship heaven. Her eyes were closed much of the time, and her frequent moans of delight filled the air. She rubbed the heavy dick flesh all over her face, chin, lips and forehead, indulging in its tactile realness. Every so often, she inhaled deeply, savoring his young masculine pheromones.

She may have been enjoying it even more than he was. Eventually he reached down, gently grasped her wrists and pulled her to her feet. Then he took the bottom hem of her dress and lifted it over her head, revealing her white bra and panties. Juices from her excited pussy had caused a large wet spot at her crotch.

"Little help, hubby?" Morgan said, meaning the bra.

Snapping out of my voyeuristic trance, I came behind Laura and unclasped her bra, which fell to the floor. I then helped her step out of the sodden panties, both of us quaking with nerves. During this, Morgan shed his remaining clothes, exposing a gym-toned trapezoidal build.

The room had a small living area and a bedroom in the back, connected by a short hallway with a bathroom. Morgan led my wife to the couch and they sat down.

"Why don't you have a seat there," he said to me, gesturing to the chair opposite the couch. "That'll give you a good view."

Morgan leaned back, giving Laura access to this granite-hard cock, aimed directly at the ceiling. In addition to its size, the rigidity of that flesh tower made me green with envy, the kind of steely hardness Viagra can approximate but only young men can truly achieve.

Laura, whose eyes had never left his cock during the undressing and moving to the couch, advanced on her phallic fixation with the hungry look of a predator stalking its prey. Kneeling beside him she encircled the shaft with both hands and jacked it up and down, biting her bottom lip.

"Open your mouth as wide as you can and relax your throat muscles," Morgan coached.

Seemingly more confident from this angle, her mouth descended and my wife somehow managed to engulf the whole head and much of the shaft into her oral cavity.

"There you go, that's how it's done," he hissed, getting into it. "Now take it a little further."

"Mmmmffff," she vocalized affirmatively, getting another inch down. After a few tense seconds, she jerked her head back up, releasing the dick, strands of saliva trailing. "I did it! Did I do good?" she exclaimed with obvious glee.

"You're doing great, baby. Go head, keep on it."

She greedily stuffed the giant cock back in her orifice, eyes shut in rapture, this time double-fisting the shaft with more vigor, causing his heavy balls to flop and up and down on the couch material and her tits to jiggle sexily. This mental snapshot is one of my all-time most erotic memories. It holds a hallowed place in my "spank bank," and to this day I often conjure the scene while masturbating.

His pleasure building, Morgan whispered encouraging words like "That's it, suck that big black cock," and "Show that dick love," as sloppy-wet slurping noises filled the room.

After a while, he seized a handful of her blonde hair, pulling her mouth off his cock. He looked over at me and caught my eye.

"Watch this," he said.

Then he started slapping my wife's face with his cock. Not in a playful way, but in a rough, domineering fashion, all while keeping a vice grip on her hair. The meaty slapping sound of his black cudgel against her cheek assaulted my ears.

"You like that cock, huh? Tell hubby how much you like my big cock."

Her voice was so hoarse with lust I could barely recognize it: "Oh, Gawd, yes, I love it! I love your big black cock. I've been dreaming of a cock like this my whole frickin' life!"

He gripped her hair tighter and demanded, "Call me sir, slut!" giving her face another hard slap. This turned her on so intensely I actually saw a shutter run through her pale body. "Yes, sir. I love your cock, sir," she submissively mewled. Then he gave her plump ass a powerful, open-handed slap--so hard it must have hurt--but all she did was moan docilly.

This was clearly his response to my asking he be "gentle" with her. He was showing he could do the exact opposite, treat her like a cheap whore, bend her to his will, and still she would worship him. After knowing her only hours, he could predict my wife's sexual responses better than her husband of 14 years.

What could I say? Clearly she was loving it. I could do nothing but look on, caught between dread and lust, as this young man leveraged my sweet Laura's size obsession to control her. She continued passionately blowing him. Her eyes watered and periodically she gagged.

Finally, after what seemed like hour but might've only been five minutes, he announced. "You ready to have a real dick inside you, slut?"

For the first time since the bar, Laura looked directly at me. Her lips were swollen and her eye makeup was running, an oddly blank look on her face. Was she asking permission?

Then it hit me. Condoms!

I rummaged my pockets and handed her the Magnum packets I'd bought at the drugstore.

When he saw them, Morgan scoffed, "Nah, boss. Those things can't capacitate Morgan's organ."

Laura tore open a packet and struggled vainly to roll it onto the massive girth. After several seconds, she finally got it on, only for it almost instantly to break. She looked up at me with apologetic, lustful eyes: "He's right. They're useless."

"Told y'all," he said. "But don't worry Laura. I'm gonna cum on that pretty face anyway." My wife's guttural groan in response told me lack of contraceptives would not stop this fuck from happening.

Getting to her feet, she straddled his hips and slowly lowered her curvaceous ass down toward that fencepost-like appendage, pausing when the tip touched her folds. Forcing the flaring, extra-large head inside her would be a challenge. She rubbed it back and forth along her labia, wetting it with juices. Bending at the knees, she tried to impale herself but there was too much resistance. It was just too big. They struggled for several minutes, working as a team, trying to get it in, until Laura started to lose patience.

"I need it in me," she growled in frustration. "I want it in me now. C'mon, get...it...in...THERE!"

One thing about Laura: when she wants something, she gets it, no matter what the cost. With characteristic grim determination, she finally just let all her weight fall downward on the giant monster between her legs.

Her first reaction was an ascending wail of pain. Then her haunches dropped and I watched in amazement as at least six inches of cock length burst through the stretched-out ring of her pussy hole.

"Owwwww, oh, God in heaven, it hurts. It hurts so damn much," she whimpered. "Morgan your big dick is

splitting me in two

."

This stage was difficult to watch, similar to the feelings I had seeing her suffer through childbirth...Fortunately the pain didn't last. On the third or fourth trip up and down the half-length implanted in her loins, a thin sheen of white foam appeared on the black cock flesh, and her groans of pain became moans of pleasure. Again, Morgan was quietly supportive, muttering under his breath, "There you go, girl. Get that dick. You can do it," as his hips began moving up and down, slowly matching her rhythm.

"Damn, Morgan, I can't believe I'm taking it. It's so big. I can't believe I can get it all in."

"You like it? Feel good?"

"Ooh, I do," she gasped, still moving. "You're making a new woman out of me."

"Yeah, baby. I'm gonna fuck your married pussy so good!" the young stud vowed.

"Oh, God, Morgan, I...I," she trailed off, losing the power of speech as she sat all the way down, impaling herself on the huge cock to the hilt, his bloated balls mashing up against her pink asshole.

Now his aggressiveness returned. He drove his cock in and out of her with increasing force and length of stroke. They braced themselves by joining hands, palm to palm, fingers entwined, and then he really started to pummel her.

With machine-like speed and power, he hammered his cock into her womanhood, his torso becoming a blur. Every time their bodies collided, ripples ran through Laura's ass and hip flesh, and those big balls walloped against her anal cavity, making a hollow cupping sound. This merciless onslaught went on for at least a minute, maybe longer, until the foam on his cock thickened into a white froth that became so copious excess gobs of it were thrown from the action, landing on his balls, thighs and the carpet.

Suddenly, Laura stood, releasing the dick. She let out a sound like someone had punched her in the stomach, and her pussy erupted in a shower of clear liquid that cascaded in all directions like water from a fire-sprinkler. It soaked down into the couch and carpet fabric and droplets of it glistened on his black skin.

Temporarily spent, she collapsed forward onto his broad chest.

"Whew!" she cried with a nervous laugh. "I knew I'd cum, but I didn't think it'd happen so fast." This was the first time Laura I'd ever seen Laura ever orgasm without direct clitoral stimulation.

His large hand encircled her throat, and he pulled her back down on his cock. He said, "You ain't seen nothing yet, slut," With that, he palmed both her ass cheeks and lifted her clean off the couch, standing up while carrying her, his cock still sunk in her pussy--an astonishing feat of strength, given Laura is not a small woman.

Cock buried in her snatch, he walked her down the hallway, her pale arms and legs clinging to him as she squealed with laughter, finally laying her down on one of the double beds in the bedroom. My mind in a state of disbelief, I followed.

At the bedside, I watched as he seized both her slim ankles, pinned her legs back and resumed plundering my wife's willing pussy. Unlike my vantage point on the couch, here I had a clear, up-close view of the juncture of their connected genitals.

It was devastating. To see the tortured labial lips tightly stretched over his massive girth, another man's cock occupying the canal that bore my children, wreaked utter havoc on my mind and soul. It was only then that I understood the extent to which I was well and truly cuckolded.