Irene's Blossoming

The first impression was a tremendous disappointment. The gap was too small. Only a small part of the bed could be seen. Irene was out of my sight. A third moan sounded. I couldn't see her but they were somewhere on the bed. I had no choice but to wait for them to move and hope for the best.

Following the last moan, a new voice was heard. This time, it was a male voice, "You like this, don't you? You like black cock."

"Yes..." Irene answered.

I felt desperate. My wife and another man were having sex in the room next to me. It was happening a few feet away but I couldn't see anything.

"Ah, your pussy feels good baby," the manly voice gladly expressed.

Irene didn't answer back, but a new moan came from her. All I had from her were those occasional sounds and I appreciated them as precious gifts. I had never realized how hot her voice could sound, maybe because I had never paid enough attention or maybe because I had never made her feel as that man was making her feel. It was the sound of pure lust unleashed.

Then, I was lucky. With a few commands, Irene's black stud gave me what I needed, "Turn around baby. That's right... Wait... Face that mirror... Beautiful..."

Suddenly, my wife's body appeared in my line of sight. I instinctively recoiled behind the door and waited a few seconds before peeking again. Irene was lying on the bed, on her stomach. I could see her beautiful red hair, the light skin of her shoulders, her delicate hands supporting part of her body weight and a small part of her arms and back.

"Spike your ass baby," he commanded.

Irene reacted by raising her head and facing the mirror where the image of him must have been reflected. I could see by her body language that she was complying with his request too. Then, I witnessed in my wife's face the seemingly overwhelming sensation of his cock reentering her. Irene's expression could be translated in two words: so much. So much meat in her; so much pleasure.

"Oh nice pussy..." he encouraged her. "Good girl."

The difference of age between them wasn't evident in the way he treated my wife. He was the dominant presence there.

Slowly, Irene's body relaxed. She let her weight fall onto the bed and her right cheek rested over the sheet. Her face was facing the exit. In fact, she was looking straight at me. For a moment, I thought that she was actually seeing me but her face seemed void of recognition. Irene couldn't distinguish my presence. The surrounding dark protected me from her eyes. But she was trying, maybe imagining me on the other side of that door.

From behind, her black lover pounded her. I couldn't see him, but I could sense his presence by the subtle wobble of Irene's body. He was pounding my wife, but he was taking his time, patiently letting the pleasure take over her. I could see it in Irene's eyes. I could see the shame and awkwardness but also the lust and satisfaction. With her lover out of sight, it felt as if we were alone, just the two of us.

Then, Irene looked away from me and faced the mirror. She rediscovered her lover's figure behind her and for a moment the image seemed to astonish her.

"I like this mirror," he responded to her gaze.

For a while, my wife contemplated the image before her as I was contemplating her. That scene seemed implausible, like a dream. There was a hidden man fucking Irene, my wife. I couldn't see it but there was a cock in her. It wasn't a fantasy. It wasn't a tale or something I was being told of. It was happening before me.

I realized that my pants were partially down and that I was touching myself with my right hand. How humiliating it would be if, by chance, that door opened before me and Irene's boyfriend discovered me touching myself as I watched them? He would see me stimulating myself at the sight of my wife's adulterous behavior. He would notice my small penis erect and he would understand why Irene needed him. What would he do if he found me there? Would he leave? Or would he rise to the occasion and keep fucking my wife before my presence.

The hidden man broke the silence, "You're too quiet today baby. Come on; tell me what you need... Say it."

Say what, I wondered? I didn't know what he meant, but Irene's shy reaction showed that she knew what he intended. Something was telling me that, if I wasn't there, she wouldn't be so modest. Then, he added, "I know you like to hear yourself say it and there is no better place to do it than here."

The words hesitantly came from Irene's mouth, "I'm a bad girl. I need a big cock."

"Just any cock?" he insisted.

"No, I need a big black cock. Please, give it to me," Irene replied.

"What would your husband say if he saw you?"

My wife didn't answer. Instead, a nervous smile escaped Irene's mouth. She knew I was there. She knew I was listening to her. He had no idea... Her boyfriend could use her, touch her, defile her body with his cock and her mind with foul ideas, but there was a part of her he couldn't have. Irene wasn't looking at me. She wasn't speaking to me. But, in that moment, I felt her complicity. Her boyfriend couldn't touch that.

"What would your friends say?" he continued.

Surprisingly, this time, Irene didn't stay silent, "I want them to know. I want to tell all my girlfriends I'm having a big black cock."

Irene would never tell this to anyone, I was sure of it. But her determinant words almost led me to question this certainty. Her words were strong, contradicting her submissive posture. Suddenly, a black hand appeared in the scene and pulled my wife out of my line of sight. I could no longer see, only listen to what was being said.

"What would they say in the office if they had caught us?" he said. His tone was confusing me. He seemed to be speaking of something that had really happened. "Look, there goes Irene, a married woman who was caught spreading her white legs on her desk for her black lover."

Irene had been screwing her boyfriend in the office. Only that once... who knows how many times? My wife had my permission to do as she wished but I didn't know she was playing outside her nightly dates. This small secret felt like a little betrayal. It meant that she had fully incorporated her new power in our marriage. It strengthened my jealousy but she had nothing to fear. In fact, I wished my wife could have many more secrets.

"Oh fuck! This feels good..." Irene let escape. Whatever he was doing, she was enjoying it. My wife's body didn't appear in my line of sight for the rest of the night, with the exception of an arm here and there. I was comfortable staying where I was until the moment she cried in ecstasy. They weren't over, but the fear of being caught was stronger from then on. I went back to my hideout and, from that place, I absorbed every sound coming from Irene as if it were the last. Through her voice, I was sharing that experience with her. It took a long while until I finally heard our apartment's door close and my wife came looking for me. Her lover was gone.

12.

Knowing that your wife is having an affair with another man can have quite an impact on you, but nothing comparable to the moment you witness their intimacy with your own eyes. As she was lying on the bed with her companion, I realized how much Irene had changed over the last months.

Unlike what had happened in the past, when she learned that I had spied upon her with her lover, this time Irene wasn't unsure or fearful.

"Was it as you had dreamed it would be?" she playfully confronted me after her lover left.

I nodded in reply and then asked, "Was it good?"

Irene responded to me with a new question, "Did you not hear me?"

No answer was needed from my part.

Irene didn't ask if I had left my hideout but, from then on, she always spoke as if I did. Nor did my wife ever talk about her recent office mischief. She showed no discomfort, as it had never been a secret, or as if there wasn't any need to justify herself. When I touched the subject once, out of curiosity, she simply replied, "I couldn't restrain myself." There was defiance in her eyes, as if she was adding, "You like that, don't you?"

Yes, I did. Not knowing what surprises my wife had in store for me in the future was quite exciting. It was also extraordinary how competent she had become at playing with my mind. The image of my wife lying in bed as her boyfriend fucked her from behind, and the sound of her lascivious moans, drove my libido for weeks. I couldn't see what could be more intense than that. That experience also touched Irene and I felt her love and proximity more than ever. The effect of that night never disappeared but, with time, some of its intensity faded on both of us.

Meanwhile, as my wife's extra conjugal life lost its novelty and some of the excitement associated with it also began to fade, my attention moved to a new element. Just like her lingerie before, her dressing was becoming more dashing: an unbuttoned blouse here, a shorter skirt there, nothing too extreme and always very tasteful. Irene was slowly blossoming before me, releasing all the sensuality that was hidden in her. However, she wasn't changing for me, nor for her lover. Irene was doing it for herself and discovering a new pleasure from it. Our acquaintances noticed the changes and welcomed them as a good thing, not knowing what was behind it.

The intensity of our sex life had been at insane levels for the last months, but it was unrealistic to think it would last forever.

Irene kept seeing her lover. In fact, while our sexual activity was diminishing in frequency and intensity, it seemed that she was spending more and more time with him. Their meetings became more spontaneous instead of the usual scheduled dates. Sometimes, all it took was a phone call or a text message from him. It was also evident that they were screwing around after work on a fairly regular basis.

Irene was happy with her dual life. She had the better of two worlds: a loving and caring husband at home and a secret boyfriend with whom she could play the unfaithful wife without jeopardizing her marriage. For a while, I was content too. But jealousy would take a new role in our story.

Jealousy had always acted as an aphrodisiac in my mind. I had learned to detect it in me and enjoy it. However, with the new developments, it started to acquire a bitter tone. In the beginning I tried to shake it off, but it didn't go away. Instead, it grew. For the first time I was feeling threatened by my wife's affair. So, one day, when we were calmly enjoying some time together, I overcame my hesitation and said to her, "I've been doing some thinking lately, about our secret, and I think we should move on."

Irene looked at me and warmly smiled. However, her expression was also showing that she was puzzled with my words.

"I think you should break up with him," I assertively added.

Instantly, my wife's smile disappeared. The confusion had been replaced by surprise and unrest. Then, as if she was defending herself from an aggression, she cried, "No!"

Irene's answer stunned me. Her eyes were open wide and the muscles of her face were tense. The short and resolute answer showed that her decision wasn't open to discussion. I had never expected such a reaction coming from her, so I didn't know how to react and said nothing. Irene was openly telling that she would keep seeing her lover, even without my consent.

We spent the greater part of that day in a family event. Anyone who looked at us only saw a married couple in harmony, but the earlier subject was eating me alive and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I'm sure Irene was feeling the same way.

I postponed the imminent conversation until we were both in bed, later at night. However, I had no clue how to begin. So, I leaned over Irene and kissed her on the lips, just to break the ice. Jealousy can be a tricky feeling. All of a sudden, the need to touch her and feel her skin was stronger than everything. I had this strong need to claim her back as if I had lost her for a while. Naturally, our caresses and kisses intensified and we took our sleepwear off.

Suddenly, Irene stopped me. I looked at her and perceived she had something on her mind. My wife gently pushed me way, showing me that she wasn't rejecting me. I obediently knelt in the bed before her as she seemed to desire. Then, Irene spread her legs, very slowly, exposing her pussy as if she was performing for me: she guided her hand towards her crotch; one finger parted her labia and probed inside; it slowly slid along her skin towards her clit; then she slowly led it to her mouth and savored her own juices.

How could I not love that? The pending conversation had completely slipped my mind.

Irene's hand went back to her crotch and she began touching herself before me. Her pubic hair was all shaved, as her boyfriend liked. Along with Irene's mind, her girly parts had also changed. My wife's pussy had become accustomed to her lover's extra-large size. Only his cock could ever make her feel full again. That's why she no longer sought me as a lover as she used to do, I was sure of it. I knew I couldn't pleasure her anymore.

My jealousy had once again captured my thoughts but my wife woke me up from my trance. I never thought that her performance had a second intention, until the moment she told me, "Lick my cunt. Show me how much you love me."

The timing of her request wasn't innocent. My wife knew me too well. She was purposely leading me into a submissive position and, thus, making a point. We weren't playing a game anymore. When my lips touched her labia, I already knew that my wife wouldn't end her affair. It didn't matter if I consented or not. My wife would do as it pleased her. And I would accept it, because I loved her and I was under her spell. When she caressed my hair and pushed my face towards her pussy, I felt rewarded. Irene had full control over me.

13.

From that night on, I could have felt that I was an inmate trapped in a cage, a prisoner of a situation I no longer desired, but it didn't turn out that way after all. My wife's portrayed self-confidence and dominion impressed me and convinced me that this was how our marriage was going to be, at least for the time being.

There were times when jealousy was more prominent than ever and our sexual activity never regained its earlier glory. Nevertheless, I was happy to be living her fantasy. In fact, although I would have been content if my wife had proceeded according to my request, part of me loved the moment she said "no".

One day, when we were playing with each other in bed, Irene asked me, "Want to try something new?" Then she handed me a condom, playfully knelt on all fours before me and said, "Put it in my other hole."

We had never done it before, so I was both surprised and excited by the prospect of trying something new. But nothing had prepared me for the wonder and shock I felt when I witnessed my wife taking my penis without any seemingly effort. This is how I learned that it wasn't Irene's first time.

On another occasion, I find out that Irene was letting her lover cum inside of her, when she left a pair of sperm-filled panties on our bedroom floor. I knew that her underwear hadn't been forgotten there. Irene had planted them, after one of her dates, so that I could find them and learn what she had been doing with her boyfriend.

Only these occasional discoveries could break our newly mundane routine. Our relationship resembled the old days, but it wasn't due to Irene's apparent lack of interest in sex, as before. This time, my wife was having plenty of cock, just not from me.

I wanted more, but the joyful look on Irene's face was enough to assuage any troubled feelings I could be having. My wife was happy and I was happy for her. I was still her husband, the man she loved, the man with whom she spent most of her free time and shared the most significant moments of her life. In the end, no matter how much fun she could be having with her boyfriend, Irene would always come back to me.

Then, one day, without prior notice, the sky fell on my head.

"I'm pregnant..." Irene said to me.

My wife had been waiting for me to come home from work. When I saw her, I immediately noticed that something had happened and that she had something to tell me. Irene was deeply troubled and her voice trembled.

I was so surprised that, in the beginning, I didn't realize the full extent of Irene's words.

"Dwayne..." Irene nervously added. Dwayne... Despite being a constant presence in my wife's life, a long time had passed since we had pronounced his name to each other. Her lover had no name. He was nobody, just a sex toy to be used at will. "Dwayne is the father," she continued in a begging tone as if she was expecting me to make it right.

I couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true.

"Are you sure?" I asked, still numb from the shock and unable to clearly think. "How did that happen?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Irene replied as if she was about to break into tears.

I didn't doubt her certainty. I couldn't remember the last time I had been inside my wife, much less the last time I had cum in her. Lately, Irene had become her boyfriend's propriety. Only he touched her in a sexual way.

After such a blow, neither of us was thinking straight nor in condition to make any decision. We had to calm ourselves and consider the options. However, for Irene, there was only one possible path, "I'm having this baby."

At the time, I didn't contradict her. Her decision wasn't set in stone, especially when it had been made at such a troubled time. Later, we got back to it. However, no matter the consequences, Irene didn't change her mind.

"I want this baby," she insisted.

For a few days I still entertained the idea I could change her plans. But, sooner or later, I had to face reality. My wife was pregnant. Irene was having a baby from another man.

I was trapped and powerless before her decision. I could break up our marriage and leave her... This option was at my disposal, but I loved her too much to take this path. I couldn't live without Irene.

We had played with fire but the price I had to pay seemed unfairly high. In the moment that child comes to this world, everyone would know that it wasn't mine. Everyone would know that Irene had fucked another man. Everyone would know that I had been cuckolded with a black guy. I couldn't pretend otherwise.

In the end, I resigned myself to bear all this punishment out of love for my wife. I accepted my fate. She was pregnant by another man. Irene had welcomed her black lover's seed and, now, there was a part of him growing in her. Nothing would be the same in our lives.

For a short while, this all seemed like a bad dream that I would wake from at any time. On the other hand, despite the circumstances and after the initial shock, Irene couldn't hide the happiness her condition was giving to her. This happiness numbed me and confused me, at first, but slowly changed me and I embraced it.

My Irene, my sweet Irene was having a baby from another man, a black child. Just when I was beginning to accept the idea of Irene having the baby, and I was beginning to conform, I found out that Irene was still seeing her lover.

14.

I thought that my wife's pregnancy had changed her priorities. I thought that we had both learned our lesson and her affair was history. For a while, it seemed that way. Then, all of a sudden, it started all over again.

I tried to endure it, the best I could. Irene was still my wife and she loved me, but her lover was the father of her future child. I couldn't see how she could maintain their relationship just at a sexual level. That guy had to leave our lives for good.

Then, one night, Irene slept away from our bed and only came home after sunrise. I spent all night long tormenting myself: imagining Irene sleeping next to her black lover; holding him while they slept; waking up next to him. Worse of all was not knowing if she would come back to me at all... but she did.