Not unexpectedly we were woken up by the kids the next morning. As usual, permission to go watch the telly had them run down stairs and leave us alone. This was usually a special time for us, alone and pretty sure to be un-interrupted for enough time to get intimate. After last night though I wasn't sure what to expect. I had a raging hard on, but tried to keep it away from my wife. I didn't want her to feel forced.
Yet she spooned up against me, and being quite forward for her, reached around and held me. "Hmm, someone's keen." I was rolled on my back to have her take me in her mouth, then deeper, then deeper. She took me all the way in for the first time in our life together, and I got the best blow job I had ever had. She was tentative, gagged and had to restart a few times, but wow! The thought that another man had been there first, had taught her this kept tickling the back of my mind, but it didn't stop me coming. She even swallowed.
She didn't talk about the night before, and when I tried to raise it I just got a finger gently placed over my lips. I let it drop, and life carried on. It was like nothing happened, though arguably our sex was better than usual. Our repertoire was increased, and when I tried things like spanking her while we fucked, she didn't protest. Far from it.
I did want to talk about it, to hear her say it was all right, yet we didn't. Life just carried on. Well, it carried on for two weeks. That Saturday she was nervous, jittery, and irritable. I put it down to an upcoming period, though the timing didn't seem quite right. The day went OK, but after we got the kids to bed she stopped me.
"Darling, I have a confession. I contacted him."
"I'm sorry?"
"Him, you know!" I did, I just didn't want to admit it. The concept was chilling. "He's coming over tonight."
"What... I don't understand. I thought you said you hated it, that you didn't want to talk about it? I..."
"Shh, I don't. I'm not sure I can explain it. All I know is I need it again, need the danger, the thrill. It was both horrible, and better than anything else I'd ever experienced. So, I got the number from your phone and texted him. He's coming over tonight, in just a little while. I'm going to shower and change, you're going downstairs. When he's here, bring him up, and... we'll have some fun. OK?"
She didn't look at me, just turned and walked into our room. I wanted to run after her, to say we weren't going to do it, but she just quietly closed the door. I stood there for I don't know how long, wondering what to do. This was wrong, it was dangerous, it was exactly what I wanted to avoid, bring someone else into the equation for more than a one off.
Yet... a part of me wanted it too. So I found myself downstairs, pouring myself a whisky that I didn't even realise I'd drunk until I picked up an empty glass.
The front door bell rang.
"Darling? I'm ready, bring him up OK? I've just put the mask on, so don't bother responding. I can't hear a thing."
I paused, an urge to ignore the door filled my mind, to just make this go away. Instead I went and opened the door.
It wasn't him. A tall black stood there, grinning at me. "This the place, you the man? Charlie couldn't make it this early, but he didn't want to disappoint your lady, so he asked me to come along." He brushed past me into our home. "Nice place. You've done well. So, where is she?"
I didn't know what to say, wasn't sure I could trust myself to speak. This had to stop, and was also yet another deeply held fantasy. She was up there, blind, unable to hear. I was sure she'd have cuffed her hands, she couldn't even protest. I could just let this happen. My mouth was dry, did I dare? With a thump to my gut I realised she already had, this could happen.
"Yes. Let me show you." I led him up our big wide staircase, then along the hall to our room. We had a big old comfortable place with a massive master bedroom. I stopped on opening the door. She stood there, dressed in a corset, different from before, this one was black leather, black stockings and knickers with tall thin heels. I hand landed on my shoulder.
"Oh yeah, I'm going to have me some of that. You go tie her down to the bed, spread eagle, yeah? She's in for a good old time." I looked at him, he was polite enough, but it felt like a command. Yet I turned and moved to her, took her hand, and led her to the bed. She didn't protest, she recognized my touch. When I did up her hands, she helped, when I spread her legs and did up her ankles, she shivered, but shifted her bottom to move.
When I stood and turned back to him, he was nude. I couldn't help but suck by breath in a gasp. I thought all those jokes about blacks being well hung where just that, jokes. He was. He wasn't absurd like I'd seen in some old 1970's porno flicks, but he was definitely bigger than me, maybe six inches slack, and good knows what when he got hard.
"So, you a fluffer?"
"Excuse me?"
"Some guys who pimp their wives like to get the men hard before the main show begins. So, you want to blow me? You're looking at it like you're hungry."
"No... No!" I felt myself flush in a mix of embarrassment and confusion.
He came over and put an arm around me, "Hey, no harm meant. Me and Charlie, like this is our thing, doing other men's wives. A lot of them, the husbands, they're like closet poofs or sissies. Hell, some of their wives even force them to do it. We don't mind, its all part of the game." He nodded at my wife, bound to the bed, her head twisting, wondering what was going on. "She won't know, and I won't tell a soul. It would ruin our thing if it got out we blabbed about what happened."
"No, really, its not... I'm not..."
"Hey, no sweat, but like help me out anyway, OK. No fag thing, just helping a brother." He had lifted one of my hands and wrapped it around my shaft. "We don't want no limp dick thing for your woman do we?"
