Nicole Finds Relief

My name is Nicole, and I came to America from China at age 19. I have all the usual complaints about my body, my ass is too big, my legs are too short, thighs too thick, boobs too small, but I could tell from the looks I got from guys men find me attractive. Other than that, I guess you could say I'm what you expect from an Asian girl - pale skin, long straight black hair, brown eyes.

I grew up in a very conservative Chinese family in China. The internet introduced me to America, and I learned English, and when the time was right I got accepted into an American college where I met and eventually married John, who is white. Back then, I thought he was sexy and adventurous and dangerous, but looking back I don't think he was much more sexually experienced than even I. We both found good jobs out of college and lived in a condo in a fairly nice building, our neighbors mostly people our age, both married and single. You didn't need to be rich to live there, but you needed a decent income.

I got laid off from my job and had a hard time finding a new one. We worried a bit about money, but my husband got a big promotion and that helped out. The trade-off was that he had to start travelling, and I'd be left alone. He didn't want me to return to work because he wanted to start a family, and figured I have to quit eventually anyway. However I still felt anxious not working. I actively looked for a job, but that could only fill in a few hours a day. The rest of the day I just sit around getting bored.

I started working out at a gym down the street to pass some time and get in shape. It's there that I met Mary, a very pretty blonde white woman who so happened to live in the same building I did. Mary had a strange job that allowed her to work mostly from her house and at her own hours. I learned it involved the internet, but that's all she would say. Regardless, she had most of her day free, and we became good friends. In many ways, she was my opposite - outgoing, confident, flirty, adventurous, and very much single. At first I thought this black guy at the gym was her boyfriend, they hug and kiss and giggle at one another like lovers, then a few days later I saw her standing close to another black man and he had his hand on her behind.

When I asked her about it, she laughed and said she was definitely unattached. What she said next blew my mind, it was a concept that never existed in my sheltered world. She said she had about 5 regular lovers, and it wasn't odd for her to have sex with 3 different men a week. She also said she only dated black men.

I was Chinese and married to a white man, so it would be hypocritical of me to question the interracial aspect, but I had to confront some of my own racially insensitive thinking. Mary seemed so smart and classy, dating black men seemed beneath her. I never even contemplated it when I was single, it seemed so taboo. And then there was the amount of men! Growing up, a woman who did those kinds of things would be called a slut, and shunned. You couldn't be seen with such a person or their bad reputation would rub off on you.

She asked me if I ever been with a black man, which I immediately replied, "No."

She smiled and said, "Honey, you better keep it that way because once you go black, you never go back."

I should have probably started distancing myself from her, our morals were just too incompatible. However I felt desperately alone, and she was the only friend I could see every day. I have to admit I did like her regardless, she made me laugh and there was never a dull moment with her. She knew I wasn't the quickest wit in the world and she never seemed to get frustrated when I didn't understand something and she was always patient with me.

I eventually put her moral failings out of mind and our friendship continued. The only difference now was she started talking more openly about her sexual experiences. We'd be on the treadmills and a black guy would walk in and she'd comment on his body and wonder what was in his pants. When she had been with someone since the last time we met she'd tell me all about it in detail.

One day we were over at her place and she pulled out a diary and handed it to me. I began to leaf through it. At first it seemed confusing until she explained it to me. She kept a running log of every one of her sexual experiences, the guy's name (it just said 'anon' if she didn't know), what positions, how big his penis was, how many times he came, and how much he ejaculated, whether she came or not, how big her orgasms were, and how many. As I thumbed through it I realized that this women had been having promiscuous sex since the day of her 18th birthday. Before that she was pure as the driven snow and never even thought about sex because that would upset moderators. If I counted up the encounters, there'd easily be hundreds, and only about half had a name next to it!

I asked her why she didn't mention their race since it seemed so important to her, and she said it would be redundant, since they all were black!

I was a married woman with a good upbringing. I knew I should have told her she needed professional help and stormed out of there and never spoke to her again, but I couldn't. At first I thought it was the fascination one feels that prevents your eyes from turning away from a car accident, but I realized it was more. I was genuinely baffled at how a woman would willingly put herself through all that. Then it occurred to me that she wouldn't be doing it if it wasn't pleasurable. It hit me like a bomb thinking how much pleasure she had in her life, and I realized the contrast with how little I had in mine.

Despite my shyness, our conversations started revolving around sex, or more particular, all that she got and how little I got. With sex on my mind so much, my husband sure benefited. After listening to one of Mary's stories I couldn't wait until he got home so I could drag him into the bedroom and have sex. If he recognized the change in my attitude towards sex I didn't know, he never mentioned it, probably afraid if he did I would stop.

As much as I loved him, the sex wasn't as fulfilling as Mary's descriptions. They worked him very hard at his job and he was always tired and I often wore him out. Growing up, if the subject of being a wife came up, it was always about the wife's job to satisfy her husband, the wife's sexual needs always seemed non-existent. The only yardstick I had for a sexually satisfied woman was Mary.

To make matters worse, he started being gone more often and for longer and longer durations. He said the travel wouldn't last forever, since he was the new area manager he had to get everything in order before he could settle down. Regardless, I found myself a lonely, bored, and increasingly horny housewife.

A few days before one of his weeklong trips, I talked to Mary about how I didn't think I'd be able to go that long without sex. She laughed and said maybe I needed a new friend, a big long black one. I scolded her saying I was a married woman and would never think of being unfaithful. She settled me down and said she meant the electric kind. I still was not sure what she meant. After our workout she took me to a sex shop and showed me the wide variety of dildoes and vibrators available. I had no idea where to begin, I didn't even know such things existed, and my bewilderment must have shown because Mary picked one out for me. She even paid for it, saying the first was on the house.

Before we parted ways that day, she handed me the sex toy she picked out. When I asked her what to do with it, she giggled and told me some things I'm going to have to figure out for myself. I went home and opened the box and blushed when I realized Mary had gotten me a life-like 7 inch vibrator, which was black as night. Feeling curious, I found some batteries, went to the bedroom and stripped. I got on the bed and within 5 minutes had figured it out, much to my delight. That first day I must have used that thing a good 6 or 7 hours, not stopping until Mary called me asking how I enjoyed my present. I got embarrassed and told her it was 'okay', but didn't tell her I was naked on the bed with my legs spread and that thing had been shoved up my pussy on high for over an hour.

I probably came more that day than I did all my life up to that point. I felt stuffed when I slid it in, it was bigger and thicker than my husband's penis. It felt beyond, my poor innocent mind speculated, the dimensions an actual man could possess. The next few days were repeats. It surprised me how much easier it seemed to go in after using it for a while. I wondered if I'd eventually need a bigger one.

Two days later, Mary called and asked how I was doing. Honestly, I felt a little embarrassed. What kind of woman spends all day with an electric penis inside her vagina? I told her fine, that I got bored of her gift, but I asked her if she had any double A batteries. She couldn't stop laughing. I didn't get the joke, I used up all the batteries in the house.

No thing of metal and rubber could beat a real man grunting and pumping on top of you, so I was happy when my husband came back and he could have proper sex with me, but there still was something missing. I went back to my 'electronic' friend when he left for work, with some differences. Originally, when I would use the toy, I would think of sex with my husband, but as time went on, other men's faces started replacing his in my fantasies. I still had a hang-up with thinking about another man sexually, I equated it with cheating. The first time I let my mind go and I imagined myself having sex with someone else, I thought of a black guy Mary introduced me to at the gym that morning. I had the longest, strongest, orgasm ever.

From then on, I often find myself ogling men, mentally filing away in my brain the images of the sexier ones so I could think about them later. I started to become ashamed of myself and I'd always feel guilty afterwards, but I just couldn't stop myself. I wasn't having the marathon sessions like I used to, but only because I could now make myself come much quicker when accompanied with my fantasies.

I pull out my friend 4 or 5 times a day for 15 to 30 minutes at a time, even when I knew my husband would be home soon, and fantasize about the things Mary told me she did. The difference, of course, it wasn't Mary doing them in my head, it was me, and the man was whatever handsome man I saw earlier in the day. If I saw a particularly cute guy at the gym, I'd find myself rushing home after my workout so I could fantasize about having sex with him while masturbating with my toy. I even tried touching myself in the shower at the gym, but that was just too wicked for me.

I was playing a dangerous game, I knew. Things were immoral precisely because there was no return from them, no good ending from their pursuit. Mental infidelity, I knew, easily turned into physical infidelity. With my body awash in all these new hormones and feelings I just couldn't help myself. I consoled myself thinking once my husband didn't have to travel so much, I could get regular, real sex. I just had to eliminate as much idle time as I could until then. Once I got back into the swing of things, I figured, my lustful cravings would pass.

Foolishly, I went to the doctor to have my IUD removed. If fertile I felt my husband would want to have more sex, and if I was pregnant it would calm my sexuality.

Before I could tell my husband about my doctor's appointment, he told me he'd have to be gone for over two weeks. He needed to tour Europe and Asia, and I became desperately worried about how I'd occupy my time. I begged him to take me with him, but he said we couldn't afford the expense. He thought it was because I missed him, but the real reason was that I didn't know if I could trust myself anymore.

When I saw a cute guy now, almost always black, I'd go off in a daze and my nipples would harden and my pussy start flowing, and I'd rush home if I could. I expanded my job search to include things like fast food restaurants and grocery stores. I needed a job, any job, to occupy my time and my mind.

Of this, Mary knew little. I knew she'd be a little devil on my shoulder, so I kept it to myself. When she asked for updates on her vibrator present, I told her it was 'neat' and I used it occasionally, but it couldn't replace the real thing. She agreed. As the day my husband would leave approached, I got a few interviews, but no offers. I resigned myself that I'd have to regain my self-control on my own.

In the first three days I did well, only succumbing to temptation to use the toy twice - when I got home after Mary told me a guy at the gym had asked if I was single, the next after she introduced me to him the next day. She introduced me to him as we left and I did my best to act disinterested, but I felt like my heart was leaping to my mouth.

I felt like one of those dogs with a treat on their nose. I was barely eye level to his bulging biceps and he had thighs as thick as my waist. His skin was as black as night. I knew from what Mary told me if I just reached out, I could have this tall, handsome man. While staring at his muscles under his tank top he said things and I just smiled and laughed, I don't think I knew what he was saying even when he said it, I was so nervous. I just nodded and said yes whenever it sounded like he asked a question.

I couldn't wait to get home to 'work out' with my favorite 'equipment'. I needed relief, and it concerned me how much I had to fight the temptation to flirt back with him. If I didn't get relief soon, I was afraid the next time I felt tempted my resistance would fail.

The next time it did fail just as I was afraid it would. When I got back from the gym on the fourth day of my husband's absence, I had just finished showering and dressed in my favorite cotton short shorts and a tank-top without a bra. I planned on a day of just sitting around the house and didn't concern myself with modesty. I was startled by a crash and the sound of things falling to the ground outside my front door. Thinking someone might be hurt, I rushed outside to find someone setting down a stack of boxes to gather the things that fell out of the box he dropped.

My heart leapt into my throat when I realized not only was he a young black man, but he had an athletic physique and a handsome face.

"Sorry about the noise, I just dropped something," he said to me.

"No, it's fine, let me help you."

I got down and helped gather his stuff back into the box. I justified helping him because I'd help any neighbor in distress, but I couldn't help stealing glimpses of this handsome man, storing them away for playtime later.

"That looks like it, thanks." He said.

He looked me up and down, then his eyes met mine and he gave me a smile that made my pussy tingle, and I was afraid my nipples were poking through my shirt. "And what might your name be?" He asked.

It took me a few seconds to realize he asked me a question, and I replied, "oh... Ni-Nicole," I stuttered.

"Pleasure to meet you, Nicole." He held out his hand and I put mine in his, my heart trembling. "My name is Dwan. I just bought this unit here and I'm moving in." He pointed to the apartment across from mine.

"Wow. We'll be neighbors." I stated nervously.

"Yep. Well, I got to get this stuff inside, thanks again," he said.

The part of me that still clung to being a moral, upright, and faithful wife, the person I had been from my childhood, told me to wave good-bye and go inside. I even bargained with myself that I could have a round with my friend and be relieved. But instead I stood there, frozen, just gazing at him.

He gave me a puzzled look, and I realized I must look foolish just standing there smiling at him. "Need any more help?" I asked.

He grinned. "Sure, I'm actually out on disability, I hurt my back at work, and I really shouldn't be lifting things."

He opened the door and I helped him move the boxes inside. When we were finished, I forced myself to say goodbye and motioned for the door, but he stopped me.

"I owe you something for your help. How about a beer?"

I must have looked strangely at him, because his face looked concerned. "Sorry, you look too classy for a beer. I would offer you wine, but just moving in and all."

I'm not usually a beer drinker, but I felt powerless to resist this man. I tried to think of my husband, but I couldn't. "A beer would be fine, I love beer."

We stood in his kitchen, about 5 feet apart, and drank our beer. He asked me all kinds of questions, did I live alone, did I work, if I was dating anyone. I sensed he might have been flirting, but I wasn't sure. I told him I was married - his disappointed look made my pussy tingle - my husband was away on business - his smile at this made me tingle more - and that I was laid-off a few months ago but was looking for work - I don't think he cared at all about that. He told me he was an electrician at construction sites and he took a fall due to poor construction and won a healthy settlement that would mean he wouldn't have to work while he was recovering and then some.

Finally, I finished the beer. I told him I had to go and I'll see him around, but he boldly grabbed my arm, pulled me to him and gave me a strong kiss on the lips. His tongue darted into my mouth, and his hands roamed all over my body. I felt panicked, like I was being attacked, but then the idea of finally getting the kind of sexual relief Mary told me so much about washed away any doubt or reason, and I gave myself over to him.

I pushed away any thoughts of how wrong this was and let it happen. As we kissed his hands roamed over my back and into my shorts, grabbing my ass and lifting me up, putting my legs around his waist. He carried me to the living room, he had no furniture yet, only boxes, and set me down on a cleared space. I could feel his strength and power, yet he was so gentle with me. I pulled my shirt off, then my shorts and panties, and I was naked in front of only the second man in my life. He leaned down and sucked on one of my nipples, then another, my mind exploded in pleasure.

Then he went down between my legs and he did something I had never even imagined. He actually licked my pussy. I had never had a man's mouth down there, and it felt fantastic, I must have came 3 times on his tongue. Then he stood up, pulled his shirt off, then took off his pants, revealing a handsome penis slightly bigger than my 'electronic friend', but just as dark. He got down and sat beside me, then lifted me up so my head was in his lap, then motioned that he wanted to put his penis in my mouth.

I had only put my mouth on my husband once, and not to completion, I found the whole concept disgusting, but I felt like a playtoy in this man's hands and opened my mouth wide and took in his cock. His cock tasted a little salty, and he had a slight smell of BO, but at the time it tasted like ambrosia. He kept his hand on the back of my head, guiding me up and down his shaft. He repositioned my body so he was sitting with his legs spread and I was between them on my elbows and knees with my head in his crotch. I could only get at most 3 or 4 inches in my mouth, but he seemed to be enjoying it, the way he grunted and groaned. I wanted him to fuck me, and was worried he'd be satisfied with just a blowjob. But I figured he had already given me a number of orgasms with his mouth, so it would be only fair for me to return the favor.

He sped up his pace, mumbling things like 'oh yeah, yeah that's it' until his hips started bucking and came up off the floor momentarily. I wasn't sure what to expect, but then the first jet of his sperm blasted into my mouth. It kept coming and coming, and I did my best to swallow it all. It was just as Mary described, only more so. The feeling of it spurting out so forcefully made me orgasm without touching myself.