Forbidden Fruit

This all took place twenty years ago during my first marriage. The events are true.It takes a little while to get into the story, but I think it's worth it.

Before I got married, I would often try to get my fiancee to tell me of her experiences with other men. It usually took weeks of questions to get any information, and her stories would almost always start out fairly innocent, then over time she would reveal more and more until I got the truth. I could always tell when she was holding back, and could never really figure out why since I was not the jealous type and was obviously aroused by her previous adventures.

After we got married, she went to work in an inner city hospital, where she was the only white person. She became close friends with a number of black women on her unit, and I met them on numerous occasions at parties. Joan would tell stories about what was going on in their lives, and I found out that most of them had numerous affairs, switching from guy to guy fairly frequently, even though all of them were married. I think being around those women changed Joan's outlook on what marriage was.

One of my recurring fantasies was to have Joan have sex with other men. It was something that turned me on, and I would bring the subject up now and then while we were in bed. She never showed any willingness to make it happen.

After we had been married for three years, we had a child and she took a year off work to stay home and take care of our daughter. When she went back, I noticed a change, subtle but something I picked up on. At one point, she was assigned an intern from one of the local colleges, and she mentioned that he was "kind of cute". Innocent stuff, really, but I wondered if there was something more to it.

One morning, as I was taking a shower before work, she asked me if I thought it was weird to think about kissing somebody other than your husband. Of course, I immediately told her that I thought it was natural to have feelings of attraction for other people, that getting married didn't mean you could just turn your feelings off. I pressed her a little bit, and sure enough, she was talking about this intern. Seems she had been having some fantasies about him. When I asked, she said they never went farther in her mind than maybe going into an empty room at the hospital and making out. I kept asking for more, but finally realized that she was either telling the truth, or was unwilling to tell me anything more.

A few months later, I tried a little experiment. I had a magazine I ordered through the mail that was full of naked men. Naked black men. I left it out on the night table and when she went to bed, I asked her to tell me what she thought of the pictures. Usually, she had refused to look at any of the men's magazines I had lying around (this was before the days of Internet porn) but this time she started leafing through the pages, looking at each picture carefully. I started rubbing her leg, working my fingers into her panties and finding her wet and responsive. She willingly opened her legs and allowed me to rub her clit, all the while turning the pages.

"Like what you see?" I asked.

"It's interesting."

"Do any of the black guys at work hit on you?"

She paused for just a moment, then said, "Yeah, there is this security guard that talks to me everyday."

"What does he say?" I continued to rub her pussy, and Joan started to hump herself against my hand a little bit. "He always tells me I'm looking good and that we should get together sometime."

"Does he know you're married?"

"He doesn't care about that."

I knew from her stories that most of her friends at work were married, and still found time to fool around on the side, so this didn't surprise me that much.

"Have you ever thought about having sex with a black guy?" I asked, reaching under her top to pinch her nipples. They were already hard, and Joan moaned softly. She didn't say anything, but she put the magazine down for a second and closed her eyes. "Have you?" I asked again.

"I have been curious," she admitted in a soft voice, looking to see my reaction.

I continued to stroke her and said, "Well, if you really want to, go ahead."

"Are you serious?" she asked, eyes wide.

The thought of my petite 5'2" wife with some black guy was pretty arousing. "Sure," I said. "Just one condition. I have to know everything about what is going on. Where you're going, when you're coming home, everything."

She rolled on her side and looked at me. "You're the most understanding guy," she said.

I guess I expected something to happen right away, but weeks went by with nothing changed. I asked from time to time and Joan said the guy was still talking to her every day, but that was it. Then one week she said that a bunch of people from work were going to go roller-skating every Wednesday after work. She was 28 at the time and had never mentioned an interest in roller skating, so I wondered if that was what she was really doing. This went on for about three weeks, and she was home by nine each night so I didn't think anything of it.

One night she came home and I was watching TV. As I said, I could always tell when she was being secretive and as soon as she put her coat away, I blurted out, "So, were you with somebody tonight?"

"No, why do you say that?" she asked.

"Tell me the truth, Joan," I said. "Were you with another guy tonight?"

She denied it again and we went up to bed. We started fooling around, and I started fucking her doggy style. I remember that my cock felt like it wasn't touching the sides of her vagina and I said, "What have you been doing?"

I can still see the look on her face as she glanced around at me. Her eyes were wide for just a second, then she saw that I was just asking a question, and she said, "Nothing." I know it sounds naive, but I really didn't put two and two together. Stupid, in retrospect, but I really didn't suspect anything was going on.

The fantasy of her being with another guy was one I brought up in bed on a fairly regular basis, and she finally did say she thought she would like it. I was very excited, and I can remember thinking that any day now I would be hearing her story. Another two weeks went by and there was nothing, making me wonder if I was just imagining the whole thing.

Then one night she came home from work and was changing her clothes. We were going to go out to dinner, and I was lounging on the bed as we talked about our day.

"What would you do if a friend of yours at work just stopped talking to you?" she asked.

"I don't know. I guess I would ask them why. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering is all."

"Is there somebody at work who isn't talking to you?" I asked her.

"No, I was just curious about what you would do."

I have this bad habit of not letting things go once I'm engaged, so I just kept asking her questions about what was going on. I wanted to know the specifics of why she asked me in the first place, and she kept putting me off. Anyone who has ever been married knows how these things can turn into fights, and sure enough it wasn't more than a few minutes before we were in an argument. I finally stomped downstairs, yelling, "If you don't want to tell me what's going on, then why did you bring it up in the first place?"

I calmed down, though I was still a little steamed and frustrated. Joan came down after a few minutes and stood on the landing at the bottom of the step.

"You're right," she said. "Ask me whatever you want and I'll tell you."

"Is this about you maybe going out with somebody at work?" I asked.

She nodded her head.

"So people at work know you are thinking about it? Is that what this is all about?"

Joan licked her lips and whispered, "I can't say it."

"Say it!" I said sternly.

She took a deep breath. "Not thinking about it. Already did it."

I felt numb. Not because she had actually had sex with somebody else. I thought that if two people were married for fifty years or so, then what would be the harm if one or both of them had a little fling somewhere along the line? I was floored that she had lied to me, even after I had told her that I was all right with her doing just that.

Dinner was a blur, and when we got home, we put my daughter to bed and sat on the sofa to talk. It was obvious that Joan had felt guilty about the lying, and wanted to get everything off her chest. She even got a calendar so she could get her dates right.

"So tell me everything," I said.

"I've been seeing the security guard from work for the last three weeks," Joan said.

"What's his name?"

"They call him T Bird."

"What's he look like?"

"He's about your height, and maybe twenty pounds heavier. Big arms."

"So, how did this start?"

Joan said, "One day he said to me, 'Joan, you are looking good. When are you and me going to get together?" Just like he always does. This time, I said, 'What about Friday?' He was surprised, but agreed. That was the night I told you I was stopping over Teresa's for a little while after work."

I remembered the night now. She had come home about nine thirty.

"So what happened?" I asked.

"We got in his car after work and stopped at a sub shop to get something to eat before going to his apartment."

"Were you excited?"

She nodded. "My stomach was doing somersaults. I was so nervous I couldn't even eat So we went in and sat on his couch."

"And?"

Joan said, "He asked what I wanted to do. I told him, 'Whatever you want'. He said he didn't know and I said, 'Well, you've had all week to think of something.' That was enough and he leaned over and started kissing me. We only kissed for a minute or two and then he slipped my T-shirt over my head and took my bra off. He played with my tits for a few minutes, then unbuckled my jeans and took them off, and my panties. Then he got undressed."

I didn't want to do the cliche, but I couldn't help it. "So, was he big?"

She nodded, "Yeah, he was about eight inches long. He pushed me back on the sofa and started fucking me."

"Just like that? No foreplay?"

"I didn't really need much," Joan admitted. "I was pretty wet. He fucked me for a few minutes in the missionary position, then he rolled me over on my stomach and pulled my ass in the air so he could do me doggy style. We did that for about five minutes, then he put me on my side, lifted one leg on the back of the sofa, laid behind me, and pushed into me from behind. He kept that up for awhile, then got on his knees, put my legs over his shoulders so I just had my shoulders on the couch, and fucked me like that until he came."

"So how long was this?" I asked, visualizing how she must have looked, her small white body against his big black one.

"I guess he lasted about twenty minutes all together."

"Then what?"

"Then I got cleaned up and he took me back to my car and I drove home."

"So how many times have you been with him?"

This is where the calendar came in handy. It turned out that she had been with him three times after that, all on the nights where she was "roller-skating". The reason she had asked me her question earlier in the evening was that he had stopped talking to her at work. I thought I knew why that was. I think the thrill for him was getting a married white woman to cheat on her husband. After he had fucked her a few times, the thrill had worn off. Joan wanted to see him some more, but he wouldn't talk to her and she was a little hurt by the whole thing.

I went upstairs to get ready for bed. I heard Joan on the phone and came down the steps. I was naked and I sat there listening to her talking to her friend Teresa, telling her that she had told me about T-bird. I heard the phone being hung up, but for some reason stayed where I was. I had a hard-on thinking about Joan being fucked by her lover.

She knelt on the step below me and gently stroked my cock. "I must be really weird," she said.

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"Because when I was telling you that story tonight, I was getting horny all over again."

I reached down to lightly pinch her nipples through her thin T-shirt and she closed her eyes with a sigh. She leaned over and began sucking my cock, licking up and down with slow strokes while tickling my balls with her free hand.

"Do you want to see him again?" I asked.

"Umm hmm," she answered without taking her mouth off my cock.

"Do you wish he was here right now?"

"Yesss!" she whispered fiercely.

"Do you wish you were sucking on his cock right now?" I asked, reaching under her shirt to rub her breasts.

She nodded her head.

"Tell me," I ordered.

"I wish I was sucking his cock right now," Joan said, pumping my cock with her fist She went back to sucking me.

"Do you want to fuck him again?"

She didn't take her mouth off my cock, just moaned deep in her throat.

"Say it," I commanded, as turned on as she was.

"Oh, God, yes, I want to fuck him. I want his big, black cock in my white pussy."

Joan never, ever used the word "pussy" so this in itself was a real turnon.

"Are you going to try to see him again?"

"Yes, I want to. If I can get him to talk to me."

I pinched her nipples harder and she practically bounced off the steps.

"I don't mind if you see him again, but you have to tell me everything."

"I will. I promise, I will."

"And you have to suck me off now and swallow it."

Joan would perform oral sex on me, but she would always spit the cum into a towel. When I told her this, it was like she suddenly became a wild woman, taking my entire length in her mouth. I was pretty close to cumming already, and this sent me over the edge. When I started spurting, she eagerly swallowed every drop, continuing to suck me until there was nothing left.

Unfortunately, she never did get back together with the guy. I didn't realize it at the time, but I could have told her how she could have accomplished that. All she would have had to do is to call him up and tell him how much she missed getting fucked by him, and that she would like to do it again. If he still sounded reluctant, she could just tell him to bring a couple of the other security guards with him and she would do all of them. I bet that would have done the trick.

But, that didn't happen. Even though we divorced, and it has been twenty years since this happened, I can still remember that night like it was yesterday. It was the most exciting sexual experience I ever had, and I've spent the last fifteen years trying to convince my second wife to fuck another man. No luck yet, but she has at least said she would consider it if the opportunity arose.

Please let me know what you think of this. Feedback is always welcome.