Confessions of a Southern Wife Entry #03byLadyBlueMoon©
I use this journal now to document my explorations into the erotic. This is part III of my travelogue, as I continue to shed my chains and open myself to the delights of the flesh. – Erica H.
Journal Entry – 9/23/02
A week passed, and then another. No indication that my husband had yet discovered the pictures I had left on the computer, pictures of his wife and her black lover, pictures that no white woman would want to be seen. I began to fret. How could I enjoy my revenge, my retribution for seeing my husband with my best friend, unless he discovered my own degeneracy?
I met with Jonathon two more times before he returned to Jackson. The first time included more pictures but the second time was a melancholy one. I knew that my summer of extracurricular carnal dalliance was over. That day, we left the camera in the drawer and made love slowly and passionately. It was as if we each were trying to memorize every detail of the other’s body, knowing it would be some time before we could delight in it again. Jonathon’s thick lips gently suckled my breasts, lavishing wonderful, wet attention to each nipple. His fingers lovingly explored my sex, opening me wide, probing deep, before concentrating on my trembling clitoris. His lips and tongue then replaced his hand, and he brought me to one orgasm after another, expertly licking and sucking my lips and clit.
In turn, I lavished great oral attention on his magnificent penis. I began at the head and gently kissed my way down the top of his shaft. I then slid under and licked hungrily at his balls. My mouth moved up the front until it reached the head, which my lips encircled and softly sucked. My tongue lapped up and down his cock as if feasting on an all day sucker. Finally, I took him deep, something I had been practicing with a dildo I had purchased because its dimensions were similar to his. Jonathon loved the feeling of my wet mouth taking him all. I was soon rewarded with more semen than my mouth could handle. I swallowed what I could and let the rest dribble onto his chocolate skin. I then slowly lapped it up, drop by drop.
When he recovered his hardness I mounted him and rode him like the stallion he is. Propping my hands on his chest, I lifted and fell onto his hard cock, feeling him deep inside my womb. Climax upon climax followed until he again came. When his final spurt had subsided, I lie across his chest, feeling his penis slowly soften inside me.
When at last it was time for him to leave, we exchanged email addresses and made plans to get together in Jackson. He would be home for Thanksgiving, he told me, but I knew I would not be able to wait that long.
Journal Entry 10/06/03
It had begun as a fantastic weekend. The Rebels had defeated the Gators, and my husband and I had been on hand to witness it. Still no word had been mentioned regarding pictures, but I suspected he knew. The Whatleys had distanced themselves from us; their usual seats next to ours at VHH Field were empty. We celebrated the victory with a magnificent meal at the Downtown Grill. The wine had definitely left me very aroused as we returned to our hotel room. As I did a sexy striptease for my husband, my head light and my pussy wet, he applauded and told me he had a special treat for me that evening. As the last of my outer garments came off, he asked if I was ready. By that moment, I was hot enough for anything. I slunk over to where he was seated; wiggling my satin cover butt in what I hoped was a seductive fashion. My stockings swished as my inner thighs rubbed together. My bra was low cut and the creamy whiteness of my breasts practically spilled out as I leaned down to give him a long, passionate kiss. He returned it in kind, his thumbs and forefingers finding my nipples through the thin material of the bra. He tweaked and pulled them to erectness. Then, he playfully swatted my ass and ordered me to the bed. I willing complied, anticipating a wonderful session of lovemaking.
What he did next surprised me. My husband has never been a particularly imaginative lover. He knows how to bring me to climax, and is quite adept in making sure my pleasure is maximized, but he has never been one for kinky games. Thus, it out of character when he told me to spread my arms and legs, and then proceeded to tie me to the four posts of the bed with his silk ties. The idea of being at his mercy was a turn on, I discovered. Next he produced a blindfold, the kind you use to block out light when attempting to sleep. Bound as I was, I could not have resisted him placing it on my head had I wished, but in truth, I was finding it very arousing. My juices were definitely flowing, my panties were surely stained.
My husband sat on the bed next to me, His hand went between my legs, stroking my sex through the fabric of the panties. His breath was hot on my neck. I could smell the whiskey on his breath as his tongue traced wet lines across my shoulder. His fingers pushed up, opening the lips of my pussy. The panties kept his fingers from entering me, but his index finger found my clitoris and began to apply pressure there. I moved my hips to create friction, moaning with pleasure as his finger manipulated my little nub.
His lips moved to my ear. Coarsely, he whispered, “You need a good fucking, don’t you, my little whore?”
My body tensed at these words. A little thrill of what? Fear? Shot through me. He did not talk like that, never used words like “fuck” or “whore”.
“Yes, please,” I breathed, barely audible.
“What did you say?” he asked sternly.
“Fuck me, please? I need it,” I replied.
“Oh, you need it all right,” he laughed, a sound that again caused me fear, “And you’ll get it.”
With that said, he left the bed. My bound hands prevented me from removing the blindfold. I had to rely on hearing alone to determine what he was doing. I heard him walk across the room. The door opened, then closed. He had not left though. I felt his presence, and the presence of others. My mind panicked, yet my body was responding in a quite different manner. My nipples were hard, very hard. The juices were flowing from between my legs, my panties were soaked.
Suddenly, I felt the hands, several hands. They covered my breasts, squeezing, kneading. They slipped between my legs, opening my thighs, sliding across my slit. Cold metal touched my skin between my breasts. A knife? Scissors? Again, a sense of panic. The metal cut through the bra, and hands pulled it away. My breasts lay exposed. Wetness, tongues, two tongues, lapped at my nipples. The metal touched my skin again, cut away first one side, then the other, of my panties. The fabric was pulled from beneath me. I raised my hips, voluntarily, to help. Was this rape? Or did I want it?
My husband spoke from across the room. Again, the sense of excitement, knowing the hands, the mouths, on my body were not his. “You enjoy taking pictures, don’t you?” he asked, “Well, I have the camera.”
Hands spread my legs as far as the bonds would allow. I felt breath on my pubic area, then teeth, softly pulling at the lips of my labia. Fingers slipped into my hole, probing my vagina. How many men? Two? Three? The fingers opened me wider as the mouth sucked on my outer lips. I moaned, the pleasure was intense.
Hands grasped my head, turning it to the side. My lips felt the rough warmness of a cock pressing against them. I opened my mouth, the penis filled it, pushing to the back of my throat, making me gag.
“Don’t puke,” my husband ordered, “I want to get pictures of you sucking that cock.”
I complied, putting aside my fear as much as possible. The mouth now found my clitoris, licking around it in circles, as three fingers plunged in and out of my vagina. Other hands were still on my breasts, tweaking and pinching my nipples. I began to suck hungrily on the cock at my mouth, it’s owner’s hand guiding it across my lips and tongue. The stimulation of so many parts of me at once almost caused sensory overload. My conscious mind went into autopilot, my pleasure center took over.
I felt the bonds on my ankles loosen, then my legs were lifted, spread. I cried out as best I could around the penis in my mouth as I felt another part the sensitive folds of my pussy and plunge deep into me. My legs locked around the anonymous back as the cock stroked in and out of my cunt. My mouth sucked rapidly on the penis in my mouth until I felt the twitch. It pulled out and then the first hot spurts of semen hit my face. I climaxed at that moment. Hips bucking wildly as the cock kept fucking my pussy.
I turned my head away as the last of the cum splattered on my cheeks and nose. Immediately, hands grasped my hair, and another cock was pressed against my lips. I hungrily devoured it as well, orgasming again and again until at last the cock in my pussy withdrew and covered my tummy with cum. I continued to suck on the penis in my mouth as I felt hands untying my wrists.
The cock withdrew from the reach of my lips. I was turned over. My hands were pulled behind my back, and retied. A pillow was pushed under me, my butt sticking up.
“She’s ready for you,” I heard a voice say. Then I felt it, pressed against my rectum. Hands grasped either side of my buttocks, pulling, spreading me open. My husband laughed. “My turn,” he said.
As his cock penetrated my anus, I cried out, a mixture of pain and pleasure. He began to take deep strokes, opening me. A hand was under me, twiddling my clit. I moved in rhythm with my husband’s strokes. The pleasure had overcome the pain. I cried out as a hand slapped my butt. At that moment, another hot spurt of jism struck my face. More and more followed. Someone had masturbated. His cum covered the side of my face, was in my hair, and was slowly oozing down my neck.
Another orgasm, far more intense than the others, racked my body. At that moment, my husband withdrew from my ass and shot his load on my buttocks. As I felt his hot goo sliding down my crack, he stepped forward, and stuck his cock against my lips.
“Clean me, slut,” he demanded, and I obeyed, hungrily lapping the last of his cum from his penis.
Hands thrust me back onto the bed. The bonds that had held me were redone. I was again helpless. I lie there, feeling the cum that covered my body begin to harden. I felt dirty, yet sated. I paid no attention to the sounds in the room until I again heard the door close. Tears began to stream down my face. But their cause I was not sure. Had I been violated? Or had I been serviced?
As I lie there, soft sobs moving my chest, I felt again my husband’s presence. A warm cloth began to wipe me clean. The ties were removed, then the blindfold. He sat there, on the bed, an expression of sadness on his face. No words passed between us, we simply looked deeply into each other’s eyes.
At last, I reached my arms out, beckoning him to my breast. I cradled him, not speaking. My tears lay wet upon his back.