Shared: Gloyhole Games

This was unexpected.

Maybe I should've seen this coming. We have been spicing our sex lives up considerably, and have been role-playing progressively more. The joy, and the renewed appreciation for each other, convinced us that we were doing the right thing.

Indeed, the reason that I am in this room -- in this position -- is because of our joint appreciation for what our new playfulness has given us. Did I think it was a little crazy that my husband wanted to build this room in the basement? Of course I did. I even joked with him that he would never finish it.

But he did finish it, and he and I have used it often. I was ambivalent to the concept beforehand, but have really grown to enjoy it. The room itself is small, but oversized for what it is supposed to be. It is spotlessly clean, and smells that way. The lighting is dim, with only a tiny green light in the corner to suggest anything outside of the norm. I can control the temperature and I can turn on music.

The strangest, no the second strangest thing in the small room would be the hardest to explain: a nonfunctional toilet serves as the only place to sit. Two of the walls -- the wall behind the toilet and the wall to the left as you sit on it are mirrored. The remaining two walls are tiled, all except for the door, obviously.

The strangest thing in this room is the removable tile. A single, carefully concealed tile can be removed from the wall.

The room was complete for only moments before we tried it. I never considered the concept exciting, but with the gentle lighting, with soft music, and with more than a little bit of wine I got into it. It's a very strange feeling, sitting down, alone, in what should be a private space, only to see a penis emerge through the wall.

My husband's penis, beautiful in shape and size, still seemed foreign framed by the wall. And that excited me. And my excitement? It didn't surprise me, but it did remind me of a life I had left behind.

His voice, demanding that I take action, fit perfectly with all of the other role-playing that we have been engaging in. I like him to assume a dominant position, because it allows me to explore areas of my own sexuality that I have not explored for years. Hearing his voice also reassured me, as he always makes me feel beautiful, safe, and respected.

Two to three times a week we went down to the basement. Our approach didn't differ much. I would sit, the panel would be removed, he emerged through the hole, demanded action, and I complied. Using a baby monitor, the device that shines the tiny green light, he would watch me follow his direction.

Because this also pleased him visually, he began to select my clothes for me in advance. Mostly he wanted me to play the role of a housewife. This, of course, was ironic. I, myself, adopted the role of housewife in what I consider my previous life.

He did not know, but we agreed on the role. I played the role of a housewife, away from home, confronted, and in that confrontation, totally aroused. With my role set, he would tell me who he was: "I'm a construction worker, on my way home", "I'm a service member at the airport", or "I'm an athlete and we are at the library".

Almost always I would satisfy him orally, and then he would rush me upstairs and make passionate love to me. This was my ideal. On occasion, on rare occasion, he would have me lean back into the wall and make love to me that way. I enjoyed this, but I enjoyed this less. The structural space between us precluded the deep connection I normally felt, and thus I could not organism this way.

When I arrived home tonight I found an outfit on the bed. The outfit was familiar to me, my too tight, too short black dress. I haven't worn it out of the house yet, but I have worn it for my husband a number of times. He left my heels out with the outfit, but did not leave any underwear. I understood this as his commandment.

I changed, walked past him in the kitchen, and headed straight to the basement. He followed immediately. Once in the room I sat and waited his direction.

The mirror was my friend. I still feel attractive. My sandy blonde hair is now shoulder length, my hazel eyes still shine friendly, and my body still reflects my athletic past. At 5'6" and 125 lbs I am not imposing, but I feel that I do have a presence.And I felt sexy in my dress, more so because of how it clung to my body - a body unprotected by a bra or panties. Knowing my husband would be watching, I gently teased my nipples, ensuring that they would be visible through the fabric.

"Tonight, like every night, you are an unbelievably beautiful, married women. It's been a long day for you, you have to stop to get gas on the way home, and you're using the restroom. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Do you know who I am?"

I thought I would play with this a little bit. "Gosh, there are so many people you could be. You might be that cute college kid who is also pumping gas, you might be the gas station attendant, you might even be a coworker who's followed me home."

"So many choices!" He laughed. "I tell you what, you pick part of it and I'll pick part of it. Sound good?"

"Yes, baby, that sounds great. You can be a good-looking college athlete who is also getting gas at the station."

"All right. That's the part you picked. So tonight I am a good-looking college athlete, who has seen you at the gas station, who has fallen immediately in lust with you, and who must have you."

"I like this dream, baby!" And I did, more than he would ever know.

"My part in this game will really stretch my acting abilities."I hated when he seemed insecure, so I responded quickly.

"What are you talking about? You are perfect. You are sexy and athletic and this role was made for you."

"No, baby, your part of the fantasy is easy for me, it's my part that's harder. I am a young good-looking African American college athlete."

I laughed out loud. "Well, just do the best you can!"

And that's when the surprise hit. A long, thick, hard, and very black penis pushed through the hole.

Then my husband's words followed. "Dammit girl, I need this. Suck my cock."It had been a long time since I had even seen another penis, and longer still since I had seen a black one. I started to talk, but my husband continued.

"I'm a good actor aren't I? I know I am. I bet I even look different to you. Don't be fooled, it's me. Now do as I told you."My husband and I had never discussed bringing another lover into a relationship. He and I had never discussed any interracial fantasy. I was completely shocked.

"Don't think about it. Seriously. This is a fantasy, I'm on the other side of this wall, and you should be sucking my cock."And so I began. The scent, the taste, the feel - the weight - everything was different. The length allowed for two hands, and the girth stretched my mouth. I felt surprisingly sexy, and very, very aroused.

I took that man into my mouth with every ounce of passion in my body, I stroked him hard, I sucked him hard, and I planned to swallow him as completely as I could.

"That's good, oh yea, suck it!" My husband's voice demanded from the other side of the wall. I complied. I followed every direction - the crass ones, the loving ones, and especially the demanding ones.

I took the heavily veined, gorgeous black cock and treated it like perfection. I accepted as much of it in my mouth as I could, and stroked every remaining inch with my hands. When I pulled from it -- to catch my breath -- I ran my tongue along its length. My mouth was preparing for, and demanding, his explosion. But the game changed.

"Dat's good. Real good. Now back that married white pussy up against the wall."I paused. I was certainly wet enough, but this seemed too much.

My husband's voice again. "I said, give me some of that pussy. Now!"

Permission given, I stood, pulled my dress up, turned away from the hole, and guided the head toward my opening. I stared at the little green light.

"Are you sure you want it like this, stud?" I gave him a last chance to back out.

"Damn right, I do!"And with that I pushed slightly back, just far enough to feel his head enter me. Slowly I pulled out, and then pushed back. My concern for my husband had long since faded, and the power of the moment captured me. I pushed back harder, and harder, until I could take no more.

The passion of the moment took me, and I exploded into orgasm. As I opened my eyes, I saw myself in the mirror. My make-up was smeared, my body sweaty, and my hips back toward the wall. With me resting mostly motionless, I felt the stranger's thrusts begin. I pushed back gently, but allowed him to thrust without hindrance.

The rapid, powerful, and blissfully deep thrusts were more than I could handle. Another orgasm was ripped from my body, but this one was met with powerful pressure from behind. I felt him rush into my body, and felt my body welcome him inside.

The next few moments still amaze me. The penis was withdrawn, cum was flowing down my legs, and my husband burst through the door.

"That was so sexy, I'm going to have to fuck you again."

And he did, against the wall, powerfully. In the background, almost drowned out by his grunts, I heard someone leave the house.