The Carol Project

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"Okay, I'll be a good girl," Carol said, though she could barely talk because she was panting so heavily and she knew that he didn't really want her to be a good girl he really wanted her to be a very bad girl.

"Anyway, Brad continued, "they hold these parties once a month and they're having one this Friday, Darrel thought we might be interested in going. What do you think?

This wasn't the first time that Brad had talked with her about going to a swing club. He would always tell her that they didn't have to do anything, just check it out, then he would laugh and say, "not for credit, just to audit." He would remind her, even more often since they started watching their video -- and she had unknowingly become the project of her husband and his friend -- that if they enjoyed watching videos so much, "just imagine how great it would be to see the real thing in the flesh."

"Brad, I've told you over and over that I'm not interested in that."

"I know you have. However, until now it has all been theoretical. I didn't know of a place or a time when a party would be held, now I do. I really would like to go. It's far enough away that we wouldn't know anyone. Well," he corrected himself, "we wouldn't know anyone but Darrel."

"Darrel? He plans on coming too?"

"Why not?"

"Surely, Ruthie's not coming," she said, as more of a statement than a question.

"Hell no. You know Darrel has a private life."

"I'd be uncomfortable with Darrel there."

"Does that mean you'll go if he doesn't go with us?"

She paused before answering. There was no pretense at love making for the moment, and she felt his cock going soft inside her as the discussion took over their thoughts. "Like you've said before, we wouldn't have to do anything and I can promise you that I won't do anything if we do go," she answered.

Her implicit agreement was like a shot in his arm. Well, actually, it was more like a shot in his cock, a shot that made it stone hard once again. As he began to deeply thrust into her, she planted her feet on the mattress and pushed up against him. He was reminded of the woman in their video as he looked down at the beautiful face of his wife. She closed her eyes and began to gasp for air. Her moans and groans and familiar sounds were every bit as sincere and enthusiastic as the woman in their video. Within a minute they simultaneously reached the point where there was no holding back -- not that it mattered if she held back because she was always ready for more -- but for Brad when he shot inside her and emptied his sperm in her moist cavity, it was over for hours. And that night it was over for Brad, the fucking was over, not the conversation.

For both of them the familiar afterglow was almost as good as the love making. Carol cradled her head on his broad shoulder and asked, "what made you think I'd be okay if Darrel came with us?"

"He made all the arrangements. Also, it's an interracial club. Guess what, neither of us is black."

"Oh, I didn't know," she giggled and thought an explanation was required, "of course silly, I know were not black, what I meant was I didn't know it was an interracial club."

"Does the interracial thing bother you?"

"You know I'm not prejudiced. If we're just going to watch, the black and white part won't be a problem for me. We've seen dozens of black on white videos." She didn't tell him that the interracial category was becoming one of her favorites on the site she frequented because the very idea was so forbidden.

"So, should I tell him tomorrow that we're going?"

Everything she had ever been taught about fidelity, modesty and decency rebelled with her answer, that had become inevitable over the past month and was awaiting the question, "If that's what you really want." She placed her chin in her hand and said with a nervous smile that he always found so adorable, "and, if he really wants to go and that's the only way we can get in, then tell him we'll be happy if he joins us."

The next morning Brad walked into Darrel's office, closed the door behind him, placed both hands on Darrel's metal desk, leaned over and said, "you're not going to believe it man, Carol has agreed to go to Columbus with us on Friday."

Darrel stood up, gave Brad a high-five and said, "that's great. From everything you've been telling me these past months I've thought she was much closer to doing this than you thought she was. I'll call my friend and have him set everything up."

The morning for both men was fairly typical; though Darrel had been busy on non-company business by making and receiving several cell phone calls to and from his friend William. It was at lunch, seated at a table for two in the corner of the huge cafeteria, that Darrel broke the news to Brad about what he had learned during the several phone calls. "We've got a problem with Friday night," he said in a voice not much above a whisper, though with the noise in the cafeteria, he probably didn't need to even lower his voice to keep their conversation private.

"Did you talk with your buddy."

"Yeah, I did and that's the problem."

"Go on, tell me about it."

"It's a fucking shame because I think Carol's almost there. Anyway, he said that we can't go as a threesome because they don't allow single guys on party nights like the one scheduled for Friday . . ."

"Oh shit, I'm sorry man. I know how much you wanted to go with us."

"Let me finish. Like I said they don't allow single guys at this couples only party. Also, the couple has to be interracial. Black woman, white man or black man white woman."

"Fuck! That's too bad. I thought it would be great to get Carol there. And, who knows, in spite of everything she said about not doing anything there, once things got going maybe she would get going too."

Both men were somber as they finished the rest of their meals in near silence. How does it go Brad asked himself, oh yes, "the best laid plans . . . " He had a hard time concentrating on the company project that he was working on that afternoon. He found himself thinking more and more about the special, private project that had nearly consumed himself and Darrel. Finally, after pondering about every combination he could imagine, he thought that he might have a solution so he walked into Darrel's office and asked, "got a minute?"

"Sure do. What's on your mind?"

"I really want Carol to go to the party on Friday. If I can't go with her, then maybe you should take her."

Darrel had thought the very same thing, but he sure wasn't going to be the one to bring it up. "I don't have a problem with that. And, I'm sure that it would advance our project. But what about Carol?"

"Who knows? I could never have imagined that she would consider going under any circumstance. Maybe, just maybe, if I'm careful about how I present this idea, on Friday she might ride with you to Columbus, go to the party and watch lots of people fucking."

"Brad, you need to carefully think about this. What are my limits? I think Carol is the most beautiful and the hottest woman on the planet. Being with her at a fuck party without you, well man, I need to know what you expect of me."

"That's fair enough. As you know very well, I've been working on this long before we initiated the project. Now, things are actually moving. Darrel, there aren't any limits on what you can do. Oh, of course I don't want her to have to do something she doesn't want to do. Other than that, take it as far as you can. If she agrees to go, I expect you to tell me everything that happens."

Brad was surprised when Darrel actually stuck his big hand out and said, "you've got a deal. I guess I should say we've got a deal," he said, laughing nervously as the two conspirators shook hands.

That night on the big bed in the master bedroom in the old house on Trammel Lane, it was Carol who brought up the subject of the party on Friday night. Like the night before and most recent nights before that, she was sweaty from their half hour session of wild sex when she asked, "so did Darrel make the arrangements for the party?"

Without beating around the bush Brad said, "we've got a problem. I should have told you when I got home from work. Darrel talked to his friend and found out that single men can't attend."

"Oh that's too bad for Darrel. I had actually come to accept the fact that I would have a handsome man on each arm at the party."

"Not so fast honey. Remember I told you that this was an interracial party?"

"I remember."

"Well, the couple has to be interracial."

"I don't understand. I guess that means no party on Friday then."

"Not necessarily," Brad said softly.

Carol propped herself up on her elbow, her brow was furled and then, suddenly, her eyes widened at the implication. "You're thinking of Darrel and me?"

"Why not?"

"Brad, I didn't even want to go in the first place. And Darrel, well . . . well you know Darrel's like a big brother to me."

"Think about what you just said Carol. You were very specific when you said, 'you didn't want to go,' doesn't that suggest that after you thought about it you now want to go? And . . . "

"Okay, okay maybe you're right . . . "

"Let me finish baby. And, if you really don't want to do anything, then going with someone you think of as a brother is about the safest thing I can think of. I would be willing to bet anything that if I was there, we would fuck, and maybe even in front of other people."

Carol was silent and Brad thought it best to let her digest what he had said. Finally she asked, "So you really want me to go to the party in Columbus with Darrel? You really want your wife and your best friend to drive a hundred miles to a swinger's club and, at the very least, watch what goes on there?"

"Yeah baby, that is what I'm saying."

"What if Darrel get's excited?"

"What if he does?"

"Come on Brad, don't answer a question with a question. You know exactly what I mean. What if your buddy wants to kiss me?"

"There's no doubt about that. I know for certain that he does want to kiss you. He's confessed that many times. I've told you that we've talked about the videos. He's my friend, Carol, we've talked about nearly everything, but I've told you all of that before. I'd be okay with him kissing you."

"And, if he wanted to do more?" She challenged.

"Carol, today Darrel expressed the same concern to me. He wanted to know what his limits were with you."

"And, what did you tell him?"

"I've never made it a secret Carol, I told him that if he wanted to do more than kiss and you wanted to do more than kiss, then that would be okay with me. If he wanted to stick his big black dong in your sweet, wet pussy -- that so far has been mine exclusively -- then I would be glad to share with him and that would be fine by me."

"Oh Brad, please don't say that. I'm sure you don't really mean it."

"You're wrong, baby, I really do mean it. What should I tell him when I see him at work tomorrow?"

"What do you want to tell him?" she asked without looking at him.

"I want to tell him that we talked it over and that you want to go to the party in Columbus with him on Friday."

"All right," she said so softly he could hardly hear her. "Brad, don't get your hopes up. I'll go with Darrel but nothing's going to happen, that's a promise."

"Be careful what you promise, honey."

Even though it had only been a few minutes earlier when Brad stiffened and emptied his balls in his beautiful wife's warm, wet vagina, he found himself getting hard just by hearing two words. But the words meant much more than "all right," they meant that for the first time in her life she would go out with another man. She implicitly agreed that she might kiss him and that she might do more than kiss him. She agreed that the place where all of this might happen would be in an apartment in the city where they went to college and that they would be watching other couples of mixed races in the throes of passion. All of this caused him to pull her to him and wedge his body against hers. And then, he was in her for the second time in a very few minutes.

"MMMMM. Looks like someone got turned on. Wonder why?" She murmured. Then they talking stopped.

Brad found himself smiling even though he was fighting a near blizzard on his drive to work the next morning The wipers on his Jeep Wrangler were struggling to keep up with wind-driven flakes. The trip usually lasted for fifteen minutes, this morning, it took him half an hour, but that didn't seem to bother Brad at all. Today, nothing was going to bother him.

He was actually softly whistling when he hung up his top coat and made his way to Darrel's office. "Guess what Darrel?"

"You got me, what?"

"You've got a date Friday night with a gorgeous brunette."

"I can hardly believe it. Remember, Brad, it was just three months ago when you said there was no chance of Carol doing what the video gal did?"

"I remember all right, you don't need to remind me. But, we're still a long way from making that happen. I'm not sure we've really made anything happen yet. She has agreed to go with you to the party, nothing more than that."

The days seemed to whiz by for Darrel, Brad and especially for Carol. She kept busy doing the things that girls do as they prepare for a date. For her, this would be her only date with a man, other than her husband, since she was sixteen. Her dates before she met Brad, however, were never with men, but with boys. On those dates, holding hands, kissing but no tongue and a clumsy feel outside her clothes was the most that ever happened. She asked Brad what she should wear because even though he wouldn't be there, she wanted him to be a part of this, oh this . . . what would one call it, "an adventure," she finally decided, fit the situation perfectly.

While Carol's days whizzed by at least one night was painfully long: She was sitting behind a large wooden table. Seated next to her on her right was a gray-haired, thick-bodied woman that she barely knew. Seated at an identical table was Brad and Chip Stanley who had been a college friend of both Brad and Carol. Chip went on to law school and was the closest thing to a family attorney that the Taylors ever needed. No one was smiling including the man, seated up high and facing the two tables. He was clothed in black, with gray brush cut hair, shaggy eyebrows and a ruddy complexion from too many martinis who seemed to be looking down with disdain, and only at her, even when he addressed Chip Stanley, "are you ready counselor?"

"I am your honor."

"You may proceed."

Chip rose, cleared his throat and said, "this is a very simple case your honor. The Taylors have been married for nearly 23 years. They have three great children. They have lived here all of their lives. About a year ago, Mrs. Taylor began to dabble with porn on the Internet. At first it was just an infrequent distraction from her life and then it became an insidious habit, really an uncontrollable addiction, which eventually led to her going to a party in Columbus with her husband's very best friend." He paused for effect. "You heard me right, her husband's very best friend," he emphasized. There was no mention that it was Brad, initially, who wanted to watch porn, not her. It was Brad who almost begged her to go to the party with Darrel against her objections, "just to audit," he said with a laugh, "not for credit." Then Chip Stanley continued, "It was there at the party in Columbus that she engaged in sexual intercourse with the friend and several other men who were there. Your honor, understandably, Mr. Taylor and her children want this woman -- he said "this woman" like it was something vile and filthy that he had to spit from his mouth -- out of their lives forever. They never want to see 'this woman' ever again" . . . Chip paused, looked directly at her, pointed his finger and then proclaimed in a loud voice that would have been shouting if it were a single decibel higher, "she's a tramp, a slut and a whore! She's forfeited forever the right to be called a faithful wife and caring mother. The only thing she cares about is satisfying what's in her twisted selfish mind and scratching an itch deep inside her. Judge, the children are ashamed of her and her husband hates her. We don't need to waste the court's time your honor. I have a dozen witnesses who will testify to everything that happened at the party. Furthermore, I have photos and a video. Most important, however, Mrs. Taylor herself, has stipulated to everything I've just said," he paused and waved several pages in the air. "This farcical marriage has to end your honor under the terms demanded by my client and submitted to the court."

"Counselor, this court concurs with everything you've said," said the man in the black robe as he stood up, grabbed the handle of the oak gavel in his stubby fingers and raised it high in the air like the Liberty statue holding the torch. Before he could swing the gavel down, however, Carol with tears streaming down her red cheeks jumped to her feet and screamed, "NO! NO! NO!"

"Baby, baby, wake up," Brad urged as he held her trembling, damp nude body next to his. "You were having a nightmare."

"Oh Brad, oh Brad, it it . . . it was horrible!"

"Tell me about it honey," he said soothingly.

And so she did tell him about it, every detail of her terrifying dream. They talked long into the still black night and into the dawn of the new day. They both agreed that they would be moving into a new and different world -- perhaps, she suggested, even a dangerous world -- by her agreeing to go to the party with Darrel, even if just to "audit." Finally, the momentarily derailed Friday night party train was righted, put back on track and moving again because she, at long last, realized that Brad really, really did want her to be different than the girl he had married and the wife that had stood faithfully by his side for all those years. For reasons she would never really understand -- and thought that he might not understand himself -- he, nonetheless, really did want her to be like the woman in their video, the woman with no-name but who had an unquenchable thirst for what they assumed was a parade of hard European cocks. Carol didn't think she could ever do what the woman in the video had done but, she decided again, that maybe she could at least go to a party and just watch what was going on if doing that would make Brad happy.

She seldom visited the beauty parlor but on Wednesday she did. They tried to sell her on the idea of cutting her hair short, she resisted their entreatment and left with a new, looser, sexier style that was not so very different from what she did herself for special occasions. They also nearly begged her to have a French manicure and pedicure, she insisted that only the crimson shade Brad loved so much, would cover each nail on her fingers and toes. Also, she sure didn't want her nails to be shaped square, that was just too masculine for her, no matter how cool everyone at the beauty parlor said it was. And, every night she and Brad made frantic love with him whispering in her ear what could happen to her at the party, actually, what he wanted to happen to her at the party.

"Baby, just imagine a new cock, a big cock, a black cock, fucking you, fucking you. Think of lots of cocks, big cocks, big hard cocks, big hard blacks cocks."

"Oh Brad, don't say that," but her protest was feeble while her cunt muscles were strong and sent a contradictory message to her husband that he took as encouragement and so he continued his efforts to inflame her with his words.

She bought a sexy, clingy little black cocktail dress that she thought would be just perfect for Friday night. The hem fell to a several inches above her knees. There was no back to the revealing frock and the plunging bodice showed just a hint of cleavage, not that she had that much to show anyway. She didn't plan to wear a bra or panties because Brad hated them, but that sort of changed on Thursday.

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