My wife is a very sexy woman. She also is very exciting in bed. Fireworks don't shoot off every time, but I was certainly not looking to leave her so I could be with other women. Especially not younger girls, and certainly not members of her sorority.
I'm 54 years old. I'm still in pretty good shape, and my hair isn't totally gray, but the fact is I'm 54 years old. My wife is 53, and again I'll say she is very sexy. She's getting some gray too, in just the right place. She let her hair turn silver, and it throws people off because there is not one wrinkle on her face. As a bonus for me, at the same time the hair on her head turned silver, so did the hair on her pussy. She didn't believe I found her gray pubic hair sexier than her having no hair at all. But that's another story.
My wife is a 35-year member of a national sorority. I will not say which one, and will try my best to give no indication. Not only do I not want to slight the four other Black sororities, but I don't want to cast any aspersions on hers. My wife, I'll call her Cynthia, has a lot of respect in her sorority. For the last seven years she has been the advisor for a small undergraduate chapter her alumni chapter oversees, and year after year the girls seemed to get sexier and sexier. A couple of times a year she would drag me out to an event for the undergraduate chapter, or have her sorors over to hang out and bond.
As big of a pain as it was for me to go to a college event, having a bunch of sexy young girls inundate my home just as bad. They would come in smelling good, and looking good. They didn't overexpose their bodies, but parts would show. It was their arms, their bellybuttons, their neck, chest, and feet that would get to me. I kept myself in check in their presence most times, but flashes of their faces and bodies flew through my head on more than one occasion – particularly while making love to my wife. There were even times when Cynthia wasn't around that images would flood my mind. At those times, some serious masturbation took place.
I felt dirty afterwards, always. A 54-year-old, married, professional man getting aroused to the point of masturbation over girls more than 30 years younger than me like I was still some adolescent who couldn't control his hormones. I'd bought a fleshlight, and I'd use it or my hand while I imagined all those young bodies. I felt stupid with my dick in a tube, but it did feel good.
There was such an erotic variety of sizes and shades: from tall to short, light to dark, slim to thick. There were even three girls of non-Black nationalities: one was Asian, and two were Latina. Facially they weren't all drop-dead gorgeous, but they all were good looking in their own way. Their personalities were just as diverse, but they all had sex appeal.
At the campus parties Cynthia would drag me along to chaperone, I'd stand back and admire the way they party-hopped. Most of them would already be dressed to attract the boys at the party. When they started gyrating and undulating their bodies in unison to the music, it would take everything I had not to slip off to the bathroom. I thought of even bringing along my fleshlight, but getting caught with my dick in a tube would have been a major scandal for Cynthia.
What would really drive me crazy at these parties is when the girls would come over to talk to Cynthia and want to give me a hug. They respected me as their advisor's husband, and in that respect I was somewhat of a father figure. I'd have conversations with them about school, and careers, but nothing ever sexual. Plus they were an intelligent bunch of girls. There were a couple of Poly-Sci majors who I would debate law or current events with; they really knew their stuff. I'd try to think pure thoughts about the girls, but having their sweaty body pressed to me made that hard. I made sure they didn't feel what else they made hard.
I talked to a coworker of mine, and he said he was envious of me. He knew the age difference and all the possible fallout from crossing the line – divorce, and public embarrassment, were just the obvious consequences. I started going with him to his favorite gentleman's club now and then. I'd patronize the younger girls, and my fantasies were placated. What I would enjoy most is when I pay one to just sit on my lap naked. She'd play along with my conversation, make me feel important as she was suppose to do, and get up with about $50.
I couldn't touch, and that was the frustrating part. Of course I'd graze, and cop a feel, but I couldn't caress, and squeeze, and suck. Least of all, I couldn't lay the dancer back, spread her legs, and give her the best head I knew how. The closest I could get was in the VIP room, where one would put her pussy in my face. I didn't dare lick though. These women were sexy and friendly, but who knew if they were clean? I would have no easy explanation as to how I got herpes on my lips.
So the strip club placation went on for a while. I wouldn't tell my wife where Alvin and I had been, but she would love the oral sex she received when I got home. My wife has a great pussy. As I said, she doesn't believe that I find her gray pubic hair erotic, so she keeps trimming it off. But those times she forgets or is too busy to trim it, I'd have her climbing the walls from my tongue.
My favorite position was when she would kneel over my face. I could suck her clit, and feel her juice drip from her lips the closer to orgasm I brought her. When she reached that point, she grind on my face, and I'd drink down all the juice and cream I could before laying her back and pounding my dick in her. Sometimes she would suck my dick, sometimes we'd go right to intercourse, but my favorite encounters with my wife began or ended with my mouth on her pussy.
My guard around the girls began to slip. I found myself flirting with them. Discreetly at first. They seemed to like it. I'd compliment them, not just on their clothes but also on their figure. I'd get huge smiles, touches, more hugs, and some would flirt back. There was an annual formal dinner and dance for Black graduates of their school. It was in a midsize banquet hall of a hotel, and I was blown away as usual at seeing these girls dressed to the nines.
In my increasingly flirtation mode, I laid on the compliments. I hugged the girls a little tighter, held on a little longer, and didn't so much hide the erection they caused. I didn't do anything overt that would get me in trouble, but a few of the girls noticed, and responded in kind. One of the girls graduating wanted a picture with Cynthia and me. We stood on either side of her. After the picture was snapped, her hand slid down my back and to my ass.
I watched her as she walked away, and she actually looked back at me to wink. I had known this girl since she crossed as a sophomore. She was militant back then, but the sorority had mellowed her over her years. She was still passionate about injustices, but no longer talked about burning places down. I could only imagine her pussy was as fiery as her personality.
The night went on, as did my flirting. At the end of the program, the girls presented Cynthia with a special plaque for her years of dedication to the chapter. When the dean of students closed that portion of the night, he asked that Cynthia and I begin the dance portion. We hadn't opened a dance floor since our wedding. I took note of how romantic the moment was, and focused my attention on Cynthia. I told her I loved her, spun her around, and dipped her with a kiss. There was a roar of applause, before other people came out to dance.
"You must want a good fuck when we get home," she whispered in my ear as we kept dancing.
"I want a good fuck anytime I can get it."
After the song we headed back to the table. Someone swooped Cynthia off to introduce her to some people, and I sat there with my drink to let my mind wander. I noticed some girls huddled and giggling at a table, and thought how fun it would be to be in their midst. Jeanie came by and asked me to dance with her. Jeanie was the one who grazed my butt after the picture. She had on a form fitting black dress, with a plunging neckline. The dress stopped midway down her thigh, and she had on high heels. I took her hand and led her to a spot on the floor. I complimented her on her perfume as we danced, and she beamed.
"Do I get spun and dipped like Soror Cynthia?"
"Naw," I laughed, noticing the alcohol on her breath, "I'm too old to do that too many more times."
She pressed her body tighter, "I'm sure you have a lot of energy left in you"
My erection was inching down my thigh, and I'm sure she noticed. She was a foot shorter than me, so I had to look down to look at her. But my height gave me a straight line shot down her dress. Her cleavage was incredible. "I do have a lot . . . in me. I've learned over the years how to conserve it, so I've have plenty of energy when I need it"
"Soror Cynthia is a very lucky woman," she put her head to my chest.
I made sure to remain stoic outside, while I was going crazy inside. This young girl had me ready to dick her down, not even caring about the can of worms that would open.
"I want to confess something to you," she said, then leaned back to look at me. "Don't get mad."
"No, I won't."
She took a deep breath, "I've had a crush on your for years."
I smiled, "Really?"
"Most of the sorors do."
My smile dropped, "Quit playin'."
"I'm serious. You have no idea of the late night conversations we have about you." She laughed, "We have a running joke about you?"
"What?"
"It's nothing bad."
"I'll be the judge of that."
She looked around then lowered her voice, "Most of us have a favorite position we'd like to be in with you, and we sometimes call each other by it."
Having any one of them girls in any sexual position would be a fantasy come true. I laughed, "Why are you playing with me? You're cruel."
She stopped dancing for a second, "Mr. Thomas you have no idea how serious I am."
