Laura's Desires Vol. 01

This story is about Laura, age 32, who made the journey from housewife to hotwife in just a few days. Laura had a stable but boring life. As for Monica, she lived life like every day was her last. Our story starts with a phone call from Laura's bestie, Monica:

"No, Monica, I can't tonight. Yes, I know the kids are with my mom for an overnight. But, Dave is out of town and was going to call me when he got out of his evening meeting, at about eleven o'clock. And you know how Dave is about being punctual." Those words resounded in my memory, imbedded there. As I reflected on last night's events I wondered, will anything ever be the same?

My best friend, Monica, had called to entice me to go out clubbing with her. I had tried to say no, but no one ever says no to Monica. I learned that in college when we first became friends. And, Monica never said no to anyone, at least anyone with a 'Y' chromosome. A seemingly unlimited series of men had passed through Monica's life since then, with one brief flirtation with marriage. Now divorced, Monica led the hedonistic life only dreamed about by most. If I had said no, and stuck to it, I might not be in the place I found myself today. Maybe.

I had married Dave right out of college and we embarked upon a textbook life of a mortgage, a job for each of us in an office setting, and two kids. Years later, time flying by at supersonic speed, I found myself on the phone with Monica, first saying no, then agreeing to go clubbing. She said she would pick me up a little after nine.

Watching the clock, I dressed quickly, not wanting to be late. I first thought to dress conservatively, after all I was a married woman with kids, for god's sake. Changed my mind three or four times, then deciding that I wanted a sexy look. It wouldn't matter, it would just be for a few drinks, and then back home before eleven. I picked out a black halter top dress, cut high to show more of my legs, then selected, then discarded, then selected again a pair of black mesh stockings. I decided to go all-in for the night and slipped on a pair of black stilettos, what my husband referred to "come fuck me" shoes. I brushed my long brown hair, letting it fall over my shoulders. Make-up completed, I waited for Monica to arrive.

Waiting, I admired myself in the mirror. Not too bad for having two kids, I thought. I turned looking at myself, wondering if guys still found me attractive. I still retained much of the lean look from my competitive swimming days in college. My breasts had started to sag a bit -- having kids does stretch you out a bit, but I had that corrected with my Christmas present last year from Dave -- a boob job, giving me a nice, firm 'C' cup.

Monica was right on time, beeping the horn for me to come out. As I slid into the passenger's seat, Monica remarked, "Damn, girl, don't you look fine. A housewife all dressed to kill. You'll have every guy at the club fawning all over you."

I looked at Monica with a smile and noticed she was dressed to kill also. Monica had kept her figure taut with daily workouts and was wearing a sheer satin blouse. Even with her bra, her nipples were clearly visible, poking against the fabric of her blouse. She also was wearing a leather miniskirt with her own set of stiletto heels. "Not too bad yourself," I responded. She tugged at her miniskirt, raising it up at bit so I could see her thong, laughing as she did.

"What is this club you're taking us to?" I asked.

"Well," she said, "You need a little time off, some 'happy' time. And I know just the place."

"What do mean 'happy' time?" I replied.

Monica said, "All you seem to care about is Dave and the kids. I think you need something that makes you happy, like when we were in college." I thought about Monica's comments as she drove. Those days in college with parties every weekend (and sometimes during the week) were good times. 'Happy' times indeed.

No more heavy subjects after that. We rode for about twenty minutes, making small talk. Me about my job and the latest entertainment news. Her about whichever guy she was sleeping with that week. Apparently this week's lover de jour was quite equipped in the cock department. And, his name was Marcus, a black man she had met on her job as a pharmaceutical rep.

"He's black?" I asked, rather haltingly. I had never been with a black man and, neither had Monica, or so I thought.

"Yes indeed-ee," Monica replied, "About six foot five of muscle and the best cock you've ever experienced. And I've experienced my share," she said with a laugh.

I thought on that a bit in silence, wondering what it would be like to experience life as Monica did. No husband, no kids, nothing to hold me down, keep me on track. I lost track of where we were until Monica pulled off at an exit from the highway and drove into a not-so-well-lit neighborhood. A strip center of stores and restaurants was ahead on the right with the corner store occupied by a business with a neon sign that said "The Blue Flame."

"Just what kind of club is this?" I asked, more than a little bit wary. Monica was my best friend, and would always be so, but she and I had taken different tracks in life after college. Me, I was on the safe and settled track; Monica's track was filled with fun and more than a little bit of danger.

You'll see in a minute," Monica said. We pulled into the parking lot, parked, and walked to the entrance. "Marcus is meeting us here. You'll like him, I think." This added to the mystery of the evening -- a strange place, meeting a stranger. Not what I was used to, at all. I guess at this point I could have backed out, gone home, and resumed my stable life. But no one says no to Monica.

The interior of the club was dark, dim at first until my eyes adjusted. The hostess, a stately young black woman, greeted us. "Table or booth?" she asked.

"Oh, booth please," Monica replied.

As my eyes adjusted, I could see a dance floor, surrounded by tables and chairs. In the far end of the club there were booths with beaded strings hanging in front, giving partial privacy. We went and sat down in our booth. A server came to the table and Monica ordered drinks for both of us. "Just to start," she said, "Two frozen daiquiris". To start, I wondered?

Drinks were served, and my eyes adjusted to the room. As I looked around I could see that we were among a mostly black crowd. A DJ played hard, driving music over the room with four or five couples on the dance floor. One or two white faces were among the dancers.

Just then a large shadow was cast over out booth. A man, a very tall black man, was standing in front. "Marcus! Monica exclaimed, standing up and letting herself fall into Marcus' arms. They kissed, and I could see why Monica was so taken by Marcus. He was all of the six foot five she described earlier, dressed well, and obviously well-muscled. Monica always did have good taste in men.

"Introduce me to your friend," Marcus asked.

"Oh," said Monica, "This is my best friend Laura. We've known each other since college." Marcus looked at me, surely noticing the wedding ring on my finger.

Marcus and Monica sat down at our booth, and we chatted while another round of drinks was served. Marcus was very attentive to Monica and I could not help but notice his arm continually around her. After a few minutes Marcus turned to Monica and said, "Babe, let's dance."

Marcus and Monica stood up to go to the dance floor, took a few steps when Monica turned back to me, came over, grabbed my hand, and said, "You too, Laura, there's plenty of room on the dance floor." I stood and joined them as we walked to the dance floor, albeit a little nervously.

The dance floor was now about full with couples (and our group of three). Some women were wearing see-through clothing that held little to the imagination. Couples became one person, so close to each other they merged. I looked to my right and saw a young black woman in her 20's, dressed in nothing at all it seemed, her waist and her partner's waist grinding together. All around us were couples grinding together, very sexual in nature. Marcus, Monica and I danced together and, as the drinks and rhythmic music took hold, my nervousness disappeared. The three of us danced to the music, and I found myself gyrating with Marcus, my hips barely inches from his waist. Monica came behind me, put her hands on my hips, and pressed me forward into Marcus. We danced together like that, Monica and I taking turns in the middle of our hastily-formed sandwich.

With Monica now in the middle, I stepped back to watch her and Marcus dance together. With her arms now around his neck, she pulled him into her even tighter. Continuing to dance, Monica winked at me, moved her arms to her blouse, and began to unbutton it. Marcus looked down at her hands as each button came undone, exposing a bit more of her chest.

Her blouse was now completely unbuttoned. It covered some of her chest but left enough exposed for Marcus to see her bra. I heard him say, "You look incredible in a bra."

I moved forward, pressing my body against Monica as Marcus held her by her waist. Flicking her hair aside, I kissed her on the neck, once and then again. Now taken by the music and the alcohol I realized I was wet down there, really wet. I reached up from behind and undid the clasp on Monica's bra, then pulled one of her bra straps from her shoulder. I pulled the bra strap further down so that the clingy fabric fell away, revealing her well-shaped breast.

Marcus placed a very large, very black hand on her breast, Monica's white skin and firm, pink nipple a stunning contrast. Others on the dance floor had noticed us. I knew Monica enjoyed being the center of attention and she reached down with one hand and massaged Marcus' crotch. I could see the bulge in his pants and wondered just how big he was. Monica had said he was bigger than any man she had been with before. Transfixed, I continued to move to the music, my attention focused on Marcus and Monica.

Had I not been in such a reverie, I would have noticed two black men had been watching us and had now come on the dance floor. One, whose name I later learned was Daryl, approached me from the front, and began dancing with me. The second black man, who I later learned was named Jason, surprised me from behind, grabbing me by the waist. The 'other' Laura, the wife with two kids and a husband, might have been afraid, wondering to herself what a married woman was doing with these two men. 'This' Laura began dancing with them, enjoying their attention. Daryl was tall like Marcus, with broad shoulders, and medium dark skin; Jason was shorter but equally muscular, with coal-black skin.

At that point, I knew they were going to take me, have their way with me...and I wouldn't resist...not a bit. Thoughts kept racing through my mind; "I shouldn't be here, I am married, my husband would be aghast...I shouldn't be doing this". But I pushed those thoughts away, and kept on dancing.

Daryl's hands now were around my waist, around me, then down to my ass, grabbing me, and pulling me to him. He kissed me, hard, his tongue probing. I kissed him back even as that little voice inside me said "No, stop". Jason stayed behind me, his hands now moving to my breasts, fondling me, and he whispered in my ear, "You want it, you know you want it. I see that wedding ring; a white wife out on the town, wanting some excitement."

Jason then spoke to Daryl, "This one hasn't been black before, I can tell, she wants it, don't you baby."

I answered to the both of them, "Yes, I want it, give it to me."

Daryl and Jason took each of my hands in theirs, and led me to a small room behind the DJ. As I walked with them I looked at Marcus and Monica, who had returned to their booth and were themselves kissing. I caught Monica's eye and smiled at her with a look that said, Look at me - I'll let them do anything to me they want -- I'm not Laura anymore, at least not the Laura you know.

The room contained a couch and two chairs, as I remember. Daryl came to me first, and kissed me again and again. His hands went to my shoulders and I felt him press down, urging me to my knees. I complied, easily, and knew I wanted to see his dark black cock. Jason settled on to the couch and took out his cock, stroking it.

I went down to my knees, freed his belt and unzipped his pants. His pants fell to his knees and I literally ripped off his underwear. I wanted him now, in my mouth, and I licked the head of his cock, teasing him. He grabbed the back of my head and pushed his cock into my mouth. I took it, almost gagging, then taking the head and shaft. His cock was large, much larger than my husband, larger than I had ever had before. I wondered for a second what my white face and long brown hair looked like against the blackness of him. That thought slipped away as he guided his cock deeper into my mouth, my head bobbing up and down as I inhaled it, taking it to the back of my throat, his hands gripping my head firmly. --I let him fuck my mouth, even deeper into my throat now, as I sucked with all my might. I felt his cock tremble and I knew what was next. I heard him groan and then felt him buck, the spurts coming into my mouth, one after the other. I had sucked on my husband's cock but had never tasted his sperm. I drank Daryl's cum in and licked his shaft clean. With Dave that would have been the end, one load and over, and I often had to pleasure myself afterward. But Daryl's black cock remained stiff and erect, and I knew I would feel it again this night.

I turned to Jason on the couch, thinking I would pleasure him with my mouth also. But he had other ideas. He stood up, untied the halter on my dress, and I let it fall to the floor. I stepped out of it and he lifted me up, turned me around, and forced me over so I was leaning down with the couch for support. My pussy presented to him, I was now dressed only in my panties, stockings and shoes. He pulled my panties down and I stepped out of them also. I had to have him but at the same time that little voice returned in my head, "I'm married, I have a husband, and two kids, and I shouldn't do this". I realized that I had not had another man's cock in my pussy since the day I met Dave, much less married him. From behind me, Jason persisted, pushing his big cock into me. First an inch, then two inches. I had never had a man in me so large, with that much girth. The little voice in my head came back and I started to move away. "You're married, and another man, a black man, is fucking you" the voice said. But Jason prevailed.

Roughly he shoved his cock in me, and I gasped, part in pleasure, part in pain. My pussy was stretched to its limit as Jason's legs slammed against my ass cheeks. Back and forth he continued, his thrusts getting faster. I was soaking wet, my pussy slick with moisture and arousal. His thrusts into me were all pleasure now and I heard his breathing over my own. Deep inside me I felt the first stirrings of an orgasm.

"Oh god!" I cried out as my body was wracked with pleasure. With Dave it had been maybe once and then it was over, with most times my husband cumming before I even had a chance for an orgasm. With Jason it was different, "Oh...my...god!" I screamed each time he pushed into me. "Fuck me more!" I pleaded, "Keep thrusting!" The orgasms kept coming.

The fucking went on forever. In retrospect, I am sure people in the club heard my screams of pleasure, but I didn't care one bit. I didn't care that I was being fucked in my pussy by a man who was not my husband and, I really didn't care who knew it. Finally, his body went rigid, and he was cumming too, shooting his jism into my pussy. Another man not my husband, a black man, had cum in my pussy. I didn't care; in fact, I liked it a lot.

I flopped down on the couch, exhausted, Jason's cum leaking from my pussy. A towel was handy, whether it was used before not even considered, and I wiped the excess cum from around my pussy and legs. I looked up and saw Daryl approaching; he had been sitting in one of the chairs watching Jason's handiwork...and mine.

That little voice came back, annoying now, "He also wants to fuck you...don't let him". His black cock was rock hard and larger than I remembered. And I was ready for him, and a little afraid.

"Please be gentle," I pleaded, I was feeling soreness from the pounding Jason gave me. Could I take another big cock? I shouldn't have worried. Daryl gently lifted me and placed me on the couch, on my back, first putting a pillow under me to enter me missionary style. He climbed on top of me, his large muscular frame covering me. I took his massive cock with both hands and guided him into me. "Omigod!" I cried out as more of him entered me. Daryl pushed in, now all the way in me. "Oh fuck!" I begged, "Go slow, you're huge."

He pulled out a bit, and then again thrust slowly back in. I was wet again and my pussy welcomed him. On the next thrust he had his entire cock in me, and I began to move with him. "I...fucking...love...it," I cried in pleasure.

I felt an orgasm begin, and it took hold of me. "Oh fuck, I'm going to cum!" My back arched and I strained to get every inch of him in me. It went on for at least a minute. I opened my eyes and looked up at him "That was amazing... thank you."

"Are you ready for more?" he replied.

Breathless, I said, "Yes, I want you to fuck me with that big cock all night!"

Daryl reached forward and grabbed my hips, and resumed slowly thrusting in and out of me.

Watching from the side of the room, Jason chimed in, encouraging Daryl, "Fuck that white pussy. Give her what she doesn't get at home."

"Yes, that's right," I said, "Fuck my white pussy! My white married pussy!" Daryl continued pounding me.

I teased him a bit, taking control of the action. "Do you like fucking white wives baby? Do you like giving married white women your big black cock? Fuck this married pussy! I want your cum in me. Now!"

And he came, and I came with him. He filled my pussy with his cum as my hips thrust against him. It was the most intense orgasm I had ever experienced, even more pleasurable than with Jason just a short time ago.

I remember him lifting himself off me, and then closing my eyes as I lay on the couch. I'm not sure how long I lay there, I must have fallen asleep for a few minutes because when I woke up I was alone in the room. I dressed quickly and returned to the booth where Monica and Marcus were waiting for me. My hair was mussed, my dress wrinkled. I looked like I had just been fucked. And I had, over and over.

"Where have you been?" Monica asked, laughing as she said it. I wiped my face with a cocktail napkin, certain that there was a residue of cum on face.

"Yes, just where did you go?" Marcus chimed in with his deep bass voice.

"I uh...uh...just needed a break from the dancing," I stuttered. I never have been a very good liar.

Just then a familiar sound began, coming from my purse, hard to hear over the club music, but familiar. Then I recognized that tone, opened my purse and took out my phone. It was eleven o'clock, on the dot. Dave was calling. What would I say?