Claire’s Diary Forbidden Desire

Claire's Diary Forbidden Desire

Clair's Dirty Little Secrets

An Interracial Cuckold Tale

Mary Not Wollstonecraft

© Copyright 2023 by Mary Not Wollstonecraft

This is a work of fiction and not intended to promote a lifestyle. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to any person, living or dead, is merely coincidental.

If you don't like Cuckold or Cheating Wives stories, turn back now!

Claire's Diary

Forbidden Desire

Present Day

Saturday, September 16th

Dear Diary,

I'm working later into the night this month. I don't get home until almost two a.m. some nights. Bob's unhappy with my swing shift job and complains about caring for the kids while I work. He told me to get on a midnight or day shift. He says he hates being my babysitter and that if I must work, I must get on a permanent graveyard or day shift, which makes it easier for him.

"That way, Claire, they can be in bed the whole time you're gone. Or with a babysitter while I'm at work, too," Bob said the other day.

I should have known this was what would happen. Bob is so selfish.

Well, last night, we actually finished early. Ten thirty, and everything was done. Everyone left but me and Shovon. Shovon and I stayed to clean the workstations, but we finished before 11 p.m. I was about to leave when he asked if I wanted a little drink.

"How about a snort of bourbon with me?" he said, holding a bottle of Penelope Bourbon. "It's excellent."

"I hope to shout. That's the good stuff," I said. "Penelope Bourbon Barrel Strength is at least sixty-five dollars a bottle."

"Seventy," Shavon said, pulling the cork out. He poured us a shot each. "And worth every penny."

As I wrote in the past, he's an extremely handsome black man, tall, muscular, well-mannered, and flirts with me. It's always been innocent, pleasant, fun, and nothing serious. I think he likes me, but I always considered it was flirtatiousness for the sake of being flirtatious and nothing more. After all, we're both married.

Clicking the shot glasses together, I winked at him, and we drank the shots. Once we returned the glasses to his desktop, Shavon refilled the drinks. Loosening his tie, he pulled off his coat and sat in his big captain's chair. At once, he stood and waved his arm at his chair.

"My lady, why don't you sit her?"

"Oh, how gallant of you." I sat in the chair while he pulled up another sat close to me.

When he did, for the first time, I noticed the big bulge in his slacks. Oh, my god, I'd never seen such a tent in a man's pants. Drinking the shot, in a few sort sips, I started at his crotch a moment or two and then looked away.

"Clair, I have to tell you, you look wonderful tonight. That skirt and blouse really suit you well. It's not quite a schoolgirl uniform, but nicely youthful. You always look so sexy."

His hand fell to his pants. Shavon rubbed himself momentarily, and his bulge swelled. His deep brown eyes drank me in. I'd never felt so exposed while being fully clothed before. After a moment or two, I felt the moisture between my legs. He drank his shot in one swift move and poured us another.

"Oh, this ole thing?"

Taking another tiny sip, I tried to deflect him, but wanted him to continue. From the start, I'd had a fascination with him. In the three months I worked for him, he'd always worn a suit and tie and never removed his coat. I'd wondered how he'd look naked. Again, I sipped my drink, taking only a quarter of the shot.

Then there's that big meat showing all mounded up at his crotch. My god, how big might that monster be? A twinge of guilt hit me, and I gulped the rest of the bourbon.

"You look amazing no matter what you wear." He slammed his drink down as if to draw courage from the booze.

My moisture thickened.

He reached out, took the seat handles, and pulled me where my legs were inside his knees, and we were close, with one chair almost touching the other. Taking my hand, he guided me to his crotch.

My hand cupped his covered cock, which felt like hot, fogged steel. My nipples hardened, and I gazed into his eyes, knowing I shouldn't, but not caring that was. He removed his hand from my wrist and ran my fingers over his massive hardness.

Shit, I had the most wicked thoughts. Guiltiness gnawed at me.

"If you want to leave, it's okay. I won't force you to do anything. But, being totally frank, I've fantasized about you since your first day."

"I don't want to leave. Have you really thought about me — that way?"

"Yes. I've jacked off thinking how hot you'd be in a bikini or even better naked. I can't stop thinking about you."

Fuck, I got so wet when he said that.

"You're married."

"So are you. When I fuck my wife, I imagine making love to you. After I'm done with her, I sneak off, thinking of you in the bathroom, and jack off."

"Is your wife white?"

"No."

After a moment of contemplation, I shoved my husband from my mind. Pushing the chair back, got on my knees. I unbuckled his belt, opened his fly, and worked pants and boxers down, exposing the blackest cock, darker than Shavon's swarthy skin. It flopped up on his belly. Big, black, and glistening in sterile, fluorescent lights.

Shavon took his cock in one hand, pointing in my direction. He leaned toward me and took the back of my head, pulling me toward his prick.

"I'm not a gentile man. Making love shouldn't be passive for either of us. Show me you know what I mean."

I turned weak and needed. Taking that fat dick in my mouth, I slobbered on it, sucking him, pulling it near the back of my throat. Using both my hands, I rubbed what I couldn't get in my mouth.

Fucking shit, it was so massive, bulky, and warmer than I expected. No, it was not warm; it was hot. As hot as burning flesh. Every time I pulled off, Shavon pushed me back. A little deeper with a stroke. It hit my gag point, and a thick spittle formed.

But he pushed it further into my throat, and the spit lubricated its voyage.

My eyes watered. Bob, bob my head and deeper again. My throat swelled with his cock. Thrust, thrust, he quickens the pace. The sloshing and gurgling turned me on more and more. The wetness leaks from me, soaking my panties.

Bob enters my mind, dull, wet blanket Bob. Guilt takes control of me, and I must push through the shame to continue. I so wanted to continue. My lips stretched tight around the gigantic organ.

Shavon thrust his hips, driving so much into me it frightens me. All the while, he's stripping out of his clothes. Using my hair like a handle, he pulls me off his cock. Picking me up, he carries me to the break room while we kiss.

Made passionate kisses. Strange, erotic French kisses where our faces seem to merge at our lips. White on black, black on white merging, twisting, exchanging saliva as people become one. The biblical two into one.

Was it love, was it lust, was it both? Whatever it was, I was ecstatic.

He lay me on the oversized couch and pushed my skirt over my hips. Taking my French-cut panties, he worked them off my hips and down my legs, tossing them onto the coffee table. Spreading my legs, he put his head at my crotch.

Oh, lord, his tongue was thick, hot, and dug deep inside my pussy. That magnificent tongue was nearly as deep as my husband's cock ever reached. It moved in and out, twisted around inside, lapping my moisture and giving me his saliva.

In less than two minutes, I shuttered through a massive orgasm.

I twisted one button on my blouse and opened the first one. I repeated it on all five and then tossed it haphazardly away. I unsnapped my bra from the small breast and threw it to the floor. All the while, writhing in pleasure, ants seemed to crawl over my hot flesh.

My phone rang from out in the other room. Guilt ate me alive while Shavon ate my cunt. Fuck Bob, I wasn't stopping this.

Shavon's hand explored my body while he snacked on my tender pussy.

His hand fumbled with the button and the zipper on my pleated skirt. He pulled it off me and threw it into the growing pile of my discarded clothes. He rubbed the mushroom head on my slit, smacking my clit with each journey from top to bottom and back again until he lubed himself.

"Gonna start easy, but that won't last long till I got to pound it."

"Okay," I said, gasping for air, my flesh alive more than I'd ever been with my husband.

A moment of pain when his plumb-sized cockhead slipped inside. This squeal escaped my lips, and he paused. Then he slipped in a fraction of an inch, a bit more and more. Three inches, slow and easy, and another few. Shavon had more and a much fatter prick than my husband could give me.

Deeper and deeper, he nudged inside. Still gentile, my muscles yield, and it seemed the length of me changed. He picked up the pace as my hands fondled his hot, hard body. We kissed bit one another. Our tongues danced as our bodies touched and moved away.

Every nerve in my body tingled.

We made love, but the pace continued to change. Faster and faster, we kissed and fondled. Harder and harder, he poked into me. Beads of perspiration rolled off my body. His dampness mingled with mine.

We fucked, we made love, we screwed each other. Rutting like animals, fucking like lovers. Our hips smacked together. The creaking of the couch, the squeak of leather, and the whack, smack, thwack of our flesh all fill my ears as the music of our sex.

My perfume, his cologne, sweat, they're such sweet, heady odors. Fuck, fuck, fucking, we continue, and again, ring, ring, ring of my cell, and there's the guilt tripping through my mind.

Fuck you, Bob, I think. Pushing thoughts of Bob away, urging the guilt to just fucking die already.

Shavon's cock made me happy, and there was nothing wrong with what we were doing. Everyone pushed me near the edge. Ring, ring, fuck, fuck. Our bodies are one. Love, passion, and lust fill me. His cock fills me so much better than Bob's could.

Orgasms rush through me.

Repeated, quick, hard orgasms. I cum, cum, and cum again. My pussy farts, squeaks, sloshes. Shavon fucks me harder than Bob's fucked me, better, more thoroughly, and pleasurably than he could fuck me.

Shavon grunts. His cock twitched, swelled, gushed, cum erupted inside. Swelling again, another stream surged into me. He buries himself all the way inside me. Three, four, five, six more gushes flooded me.

"Oh, baby, you're so fucking talented," he said.

His voice is deep, husky.

Ring, ring, the fucking phone interrupted us again.

Shavon pulls his cock out of as he stands. Swoosh, his johnson gone. I feel its absence, and the ooze leaks from me. Shavon sat on the couch, moving my legs and laying back on him. He plays with my feet.

Ring, ring, the phone rings.

"Better go answer it, don't you think?"

"I don't know what to tell him."

Shavon glanced at the clock. My gaze followed his. One-forty-five.

"Tell him you had on silent, and we just finished with the last order."

The ringing stopped. I picked it up and called Bob.

"Hey," he said.

"Sorry, we had to work till the last job was ready for shipping," which wasn't a lie, but we'd done that hours before.

"Okay, well, will it be much longer?"

"As soon as we clean up, I'll be on my way home."

"So maybe by two-thirty?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, I'll be home by then."

"So, see, I wanted to know ... well, I mean, it's Friday night, or actually Saturday morning, but, well, you know..."

"Yeah, we can fuck."

"You mean make love," he said.

"Sure, that's what I mean."

"I'm a bit hungry for..."

"No, no oral tonight. I'm exhausted. I just want to get you off and get some sleep."

"Oh." The disappointment oozed from him, like the cum oozed out of me.

"Maybe after, if I'm not too tired."

"Okay, I enjoy eating my cum."

"I know. See you soon."

"Bye."

I didn't answer him. I swiped the disconnect and put the phone back in my purse.

Shavon was right behind me. He had my panties in his hand and wiped my pussy with them. Told me he was keeping them and that we were terrible people and would be naughty again soon.

Our lovemaking had exhausted me. I fought to stay awake on the drive home. Cum dribbled out of me, wetting my skirt and the seat below. My cunny felt broken. But I had to fuck him, and I had to fake an orgasm.

When I got home, I went straight to the master bath. I washed my twat and tried to get more cum out of me. I was sopping wet. I put perfume on, slipped into my nighty, and looked sexy for him.

"I'm so tired, but also especially horny," I said. "I want to be on top."

"Like always," Bob said, tossing the covers off, showing his hard five-inch boner was ready for me.

Crawling on top of him, I took his cock and squeezed him with my fingers a few times. I mounted him, slipping his willy into me. Rocking my hips, hissed, cooed, moaned, and groaned as I rode him.

"You feel so big tonight." I tried to feel him, wanted to squeeze him with my cunt.

"Really," he said, smiling. "You're really wet. Funny, I don't feel your pussy that much tonight. But I feel is great and so wet."

"I've been thinking of fucking you all day. And baby, you've just stretched me out on your humongous prick."

As soon as I told him that, he lost his load.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Bob said.

"It's okay. You can get me off by eating your cum out of me."

Bob slid down under me and sat on his face. I rode his face for thirty minutes while he lapped his, my, and Shavon's cum out of me. When morning came, I rolled over toward him, where he sat, jacking his cock.

Crawling to him as sexy as I could, I put my lips on his thin, tiny cock, and within twenty seconds of sucking, he lost his seed. While I feel guilty as shit, I can't wait for what might happen at work Monday night.

Sunday, September 17th

Dear Diary,

Bob was a need brat this morning, wanting a breakfast fest. Then, he wanted me to get his snacks ready for his games. Therefore, I didn't have time to write about yesterday until we got ready for bed.

Saturday was a shitty day. I was like an alley cat who couldn't leave the house to play. I spent the day taking care of the kids while he went out and played golf. All the time, I wanted to call Shavon. I wanted to see him, fuck him.

When he got home, Bob barbecued hamburgers. Well, he burned them. God, he's terrible at cooking and worse than bad at grilling. We had a fight, and spending more than a few hours together, a fight was the typical outcome.

Bob fucking bores me to tears.

After the kids were in bed and we ran out of TV to watch, we went to bed.

So, as a Saturday night treat, we tried to make love. I let him be on top. Bob slid into me easily and lost his load after ten strokes, maybe fifteen. He then complained I wasn't wet and seemed to lose for him to enjoy it.

He still wanted to eat me out, and I made him do it until I got off. Hand on heart, if it wasn't for his tongue, I'd never have a culmination and always be on edge.

After we finished, he wanted to cuddle. I let him, but it sucked for me in his weak arms. That was when I discovered my guilt wasn't so bad. While it nagged at me, I knew fucking Shavon was better than fucking Bob.

Why couldn't I have both?

I wondered if Bob cheated on me. Had he ever? Probably not. He'd have to have some get up and go to find another girl, and he'd have to work at making her cum.

Today has been a shit day as well. The kids were on my nerves all day. Tom was the worst. I had to paddle his ass when I caught him playing with the neighbor kids and bullying them. I wanted Bob to man up and this and take him to the woodshed, as they used to call it.

Expecting Bob to discipline the kids is like expecting him to fuck me good. He doesn't have either of those things in him. Watching him sit on the couch all afternoon and vegetate to football wasn't much fun.

The night didn't get any better. More fucking football. He never played the game, and Bob isn't athletic or even remotely coordinated. Now he's in bed asking me if we can make love while I wonder how the man thinks I can get off in less than two minutes.

I know what will happen, stroke, stroke, shoot his nut, and whine that he's sorry. If he does, I swear to god, I ride his face like a banshee.

Monday, September 18th

Dear Diary,

Last night went exactly as expected.

Today has gone well. The kids are at school, I have the house to myself, and I've been sexting to Shavon. We will be working on a 'special' project tonight. The excuse is we're meeting with one of Shavon's bosses to check in with him on how shipping has improved under his guidance.

The truth is, he will have dinner with his supervisor, which will take about thirty-five minutes. Shavon will receive a pat on the back, a "Job well done," and a small bonus check. Afterward, he and I go to the 'No Tell Motel' off I-25 north of the city.

I've been masturbating to his nasty text and the cock shots he's sent me. I'm feeling terrific. But a nagging, little voice in my head said, "This shit isn't right."

The kids just got home. I'll write more later.

Tuesday, September 19th

Dear Diary,

It's almost 2 in the morning.

I wasn't all that late, a little after midnight, and when I got home, Bob was still up. I'd been hoping he'd be asleep. He hadn't texted or called me all night. That was super cause I'd have ignored it completely.

He said he wasn't horny but would like to eat me off. Of course, being filled with Shavon's cum, I refused him. I took a long shower because I was sore as fucking shit everywhere. Shavon fucked my little twat raw and ass. I'll get to that soon.

Needless to say, we'd been like wild animals, and he'd used me hard. I wore my pink teddy to bed because I needed to feel pretty. It must have done something to Bob. You kiss him, and he can get stiffy.

He rolled over, and his small, stiff prick pressed on my ass cheek as he cuddled to me. His hips were moving, his tiny dick rubbed on my cheek. He kissed my neck, the back of my ear, licked me, and cooed.

"Can fuck you, then eat you out?"

I was ready to say yes when I felt small, thick, warm globs of cum splash across my ass, with a few landing on my pink teddy. Bob dived into the, "I'm sorry," diatribe.

"Lick me clean, and roll back to your side, and go to sleep," I said.

He touched my shoulder and leaned into my ear. I put my hand on his face, pushed him away, and huffed. He quickly lapped up his semen.

"Wow, I came so much more inside you the other night."

"No, you didn't," I said.

"Well, eating it out of you seemed a lot more to me."

"Can you shut up and let me sleep?"

Another round of I'm sorry, and he curled up and soon was sawing logs. I waited an hour before I got up to write.

I got to work at 3:45 and waited anxiously to clock in. After two hours, Shavon took me off the line for the meeting. He parked at the restaurant, and we went in separately. I sat at the bar, watching him and the Shipping Manager eat.

Shavon only picked up his food. The manager ate like a ravenous wolf. After the meal, his boss handed him a small envelope. They had a drink, and the boss got up and left. He motioned for me to join him.

He ordered me a small meal, and I ate while he watched me. Shavon drank a soda while I ate small, delicate bites. With one hand under the table, he rubbed my leg and slid his hand higher under my skirt to a more private part of my body.