Chance Encounter Ch. 05

Jean and her cuck really cherished the days and even weeks after she returned, her vagina filled with another man's love juices. Lovey dovey describes their interaction, holding hands, taking walks, romantic dinners, flowers and chocolate, favorite meals, sideway smiles at each other, and lots of touching and kissing. Behind closed doors however they were like two tigers in heat.

They didn't so much as talk about her affair, but he imagined it and she relived it as they made love in their unique way, with his mouth pressed to her love box and his penis humping the bed, her leg, or if she felt particularly giving, being massaged by her feet.

Their unconventional lovemaking led to explosive orgasms. She liked listening to him groan as he brought on his climax timing it she noted to occur with hers. She wondered how he maintained such control out of her but so little when they had intercourse. She knew it was all psychological; they had used desensitizing creams, layers of condoms, sleeves, and the end result was always the same. A minute or two of thrusting on an exceptional day and he shot the wad leaving her frustrated and longing even more for traditional lovemaking.

What they did now was so much better. His mouth more than made up for his penis' inadequacy. She didn't resent him. He had powerful climaxes too and he didn't feel compelled to have intercourse or left feeling he let her down. His penis size and premature ejaculation she likened to a physical disability. Her lovers were surrogates used to accomplish what he couldn't. Both saw it as the only fair solution.

She waited to tell him what happened after she and George made love the first time. He asked lots of other questions and she filled in the details describing him physically. She even located a picture of him and showed it to C so he had a face to go with the name. C couldn't believe how confident George was, how blunt he was with Jean, how he took control.

She couldn't help but smirk a little and did her best to lessen its cut with a smile, "I'm not surprised. He's not boastful or even egotistical, just supremely confident. He's good at reading people. He immediately sensed my attraction to him and my need for a good fuck. And he delivered. I'm telling you C; my experience with him was the best ever. It was delicious. He literally had me begging for his dhakari and his maani."

Her honesty still wounded his ego and in spite of embracing the cuckold lifestyle, a part of him would always long to be the other man, the man with the big cock, the man whose dhakari drove women crazy with lust, the man whose maani women craved to be full of, the kind of man who made women go to the extreme. He wondered how many wives Father George had impregnated, how many cuckold couples were out there raising biracial children, imagining the cover stories they told, adoption, the wrong test tube at the reproductive services lab, a product of a prior relationship.

C knew Jean well. She tended to go overboard, throwing herself not just physically but emotionally at her lovers. While there were times her zeal pained him, the sexual high he got was worth it. Rather than discourage he encouraged her to greater attachment with her lover. Their emotional bonding added to the arousal of their physical coupling.

His initial reaction to her words was typical Jean. He had seen her eyes brighten with lust over another man, but his gut told him there was something different. George had reignited a flame in Jean. He sensed he was about to again experience being at the edge of the precipice. He remembered how exhilirating and scary it was.

C and Jean were now middle aged. He wondered if Jean sensed time was running out and this was the last hurrah. Or was she trying to recapture the past. There might be others in the future but they would be on the downslope of life. She was at the top of the mountain. The ascent had been wonderful so good she wished she could climb it again. Would George be the one who made the descent something to be embraced rather than feared?

Jean purposely left C hanging. She craved his puppy dog adoration. He was always attentive to her needs and deferential to her wishes, but she reminded herself he was still a man. Too much contentment destroyed his motivation lessening his desire to please, his urge to submit. In spite of all their efforts she could not and really did not want to unwire his psychological makeup.

Through trial and error she had perfected her ability to control him. She saw herself as his queen and he her loyal, but humble, servant. Cuckolding served to remind him she was her own woman and theirs was not a relationship of equals. She was his superior. She had complete freedom. His liberty she restricted. Her taking lovers was not just for her own pleasure, but to remind him she was in control. Most people considered vaginal intercourse with one's wife a husband's right, but their marriage wasn't like most people's.

He was her subordinate, not her equal. Permitting him vaginal intercourse went against the social norm of their relationship. Queens didn't mate with servants, only other royalty.

While waiting for George to contact her she toyed with her C, playing psychological games to keep him on edge and focused on pleasing her. She thought it amusing how quickly after her night with George he dropped whatever he was doing to spend with her. She liked being the center of his universe.

She encouraged him to orgasm when he ate her, but she didn't offer the pleasure of her hands, feet, tits, mouth, or, in spite of how much she enjoyed it, her ass. She banished his penis from her vagina long ago so its use for his penis wasn't an option.

George still hadn't called and she found herself getting impatient. She thought about his cock and how much pleasure it gave her, his dhakari so big and powerful, filling her in such an exquisite way. She also thought about him and how in a few hours the level of comfort she felt with him. She wanted to spend time with him not only in bed but socially. She liked the company of strong, capable men and he was both. She also felt drawn to his foreignness, but more specifically to his being Kenyan. There was something extra special about being bedded by a black man; his race added an extra spark to his domination.

She wanted to tell C about their second round of lovemaking, but wanted the timing to be right. She told him to set up a date night for . His eyes widened in surprise and within seconds the front of his slacks tented out. She knew he thought her request was for she and George. She chuckled liking how his mind worked, pleased with his obvious arousal at the idea of George fucking her.

She forced herself to be stern reminding herself she could never let this be about C's pleasure, but hers, "No, C. Not for George and I, for you and I. Have you forgotten your wife likes to go on dates with her husband?"

He stammered, red in the face, feeling foolish, "No, mistress. I haven't. I just thought..."

She cut him off, "Don't think. Reserve a table at Scordato's. I've taken care of the hotel reservations. I'll lay out my things and you pack them."

He answered, "Yes, mistress." Deep down he was thrilled at the prospect of a date with his wife. He couldn't help but wonder if she was going to grant his penis access to her vagina. It had been so long.

She smiled at him, "And C, pack my toys. I feel naughty."

He smiled back eagerly looking forward to their date night.

She lasered him with her next comments, "Don't get your hopes up. You're going to get lucky, but not that lucky. And C, if George calls and wants to go out, I'll cancel with you and George will be my date. Me entiendes?"

C nodded. He understood and expected nothing less. It hurt but in a sexually pleasing way. He couldn't explain it and there were times he couldn't describe it. All he knew is he craved it.

She forbade him from climaxing but insisted he worship her with his mouth. After her orgasm she roughly pushed his head away, clamped her legs together, and told him to go to his room. She really wanted to snuggle with him and even toyed with the idea of granting his penis a quick fuck, but didn't.

Saturday night didn't come soon enough. C finished all his chores while Jean went shopping with their daughters. She went to the gym while C packed. When she got home she thought about having him help her shower and dress, but didn't as he wasn't helping her get ready for another man, but himself.

She entered the house greeted by C with a glass of ice tea. Her workout had been difficult; she noticed nothing got easier with age. She took the glass, drank deeply of it, noticing he was staring at her. He still saw her as she was when they met, a smoking hot 18 year old. The years had been kind to her. She still attracted the opposite sex, but it was C's stamp of approval she longed for most. She felt herself getting wet and her nipples were hard anticipating the night to come and what he would do to her body and she to his.

C was thinking how sexy she looked, imagining George's lips trailing alon her neck, his mouth on those big breasts, his teeth nipping at Jean's long nipples. She was he thought still a looker. It didn't surprise him at all men were still coming onto her. He considered himself lucky to have met someone he was so compatible with. What they had was good even if it was unconventional.

She took the glass and headed upstairs without so much as glancing back at him. She knew he was looking at her ass. She imagined he wished his head was between its sweaty cheeks tonguing her ass. The thought of it made her clitoris twitch.

Upstairs soaking in the bath C drew for her minutes before she got home, Jean closed her eyes and dreamt of George and the deliciousness of their lovemaking.

"God," she thought to herself, "he is so good with that cock." It took her a minute to remember the two words he taught her, dhakari and maani. She longed for both, cock and cum.

Out of the tub and drying off in front of the mirror she assessed her body. She concluded it was still good, damn good, considering her four pregnancies. Still she was glad it pleased the one man she loved most, C. The admiration of others was just gravy. In spite of their cocks and masculinity they hadn't been able to break her bond with C. He hadn't aged as well as she but she knew her friends thought he was still a catch. The ones who really knew her not only envied her but were incredulous he put up with her antics. They didn' understand how any man could be so forgiving. Jean wanted to remind them C wasn't a man, but a cuck. She didn't because they really wouldn't understand.

As she dressed she found herself unable to remember the last time she had spent the night out with C, much less go on a date with him. She had been on plenty of dates in their marriage, but surprisingly few with C. He stayed at home while she played. She had a surprise for him and knew he would like what she had in store.

She looked through her lingerie drawer and picked out items she hadn't worn in years, all gifts from C, all for her to wear with other men. A bra with material cut out providing her support while exposing her nipples. Crotchless panties. A garter belt. Stockings. An ankle bracelet.

The last items she put on were her engagement and wedding rings and a necklace of pearls, all gifts from C. The pearls had special meaning. They reminded her of when they were dating and how he would fuck himself to orgasm between her breasts, his cum spurting out and running down her neck looking its color the same as the pearls. With a little coaxing he would lick her clean feeling she knew humiliated. She had always been very possessive of him and the weaknesses he revealed to her drew him closer to her.