One Night in New Orleans

*This story was a request from Rob who sent me a private message with the scenario, and details of his lovely wife. It has been an absolute blast working on this. I hope you all enjoy and I hope Rob gets to make his fantasy a reality one day*

I'm not sure when the idea first started. I'd always gone through phases in my sexual interests. For years I prayed to God that I wouldn't die before I'd experienced sticking my cock into a woman's ass. Mainly because even after years of marriage Darlene would still never let me try anal. But then I read a story on Literotica about a stuck-up woman being turned into a filthy slut for two older men and suddenly I had a new obsession. It's been that way since I was a much younger man, and I feel it's a point of pride that even now I can discover a side of myself that gets turned on by something I'd never really considered to be my thing. In a way it kept things interesting in the bedroom, always coming to my wife with something new I wanted to talk about or explore. So, when my browsing history after 10pm seemed to be filled exclusively with videos of wives being fucked by other men while their husbands watched, I simply thought it was another phase. However, for some reason this one was different.

Namely the content. The ones I kept going back to had certain commonalities. The videos and stories would always feature slightly overweight women. Woman of a clearly mature age. Women with a pale curvy body and long brown hair. Women who looked a lot like my wife Darlene.

They weren't Darlene though. My wife was adventurous and while we had certainly made some incredibly hot recordings over the years, she would raise all hell before she let any one of them be uploaded. No, they were just women that made it easier to imagine the performer was her.

There was one more feature to the videos and stories in my browser history. The male partners in these videos were always, without fail: younger, black and had a near comically massive cock.

As this phase grew into an ever-present obsession, there was one story series in particular I kept coming back to more than all the others. In the first part, a couple in a strained marriage rediscovers their spark when the husband discovers a more submissive side to his wife. Over the course of the series, she becomes increasingly submissive and addicted to their new dynamic. Going out in slutty dresses and makeup whenever asked, being nude whenever alone in their house, referring to the husband almost exclusively as sir or master. But my favourite chapter of the series, is when the husband takes his wife out to a club and has her put on a show for every man there. The orders given continue to escalate until he has organized for five black men to fuck her to delirium in a private room. It's an incredibly hot sequence. But the real icing on the cake is after this fuckfest. Only half conscious, with smeared lipstick and a smile of pure joy on her face, she crawls to her husband and rests her head in his lap to take his cock in his mouth asking if she did a good job. The whole series was good, but that chapter spoke to something in me.

Now it seemed the quickest way to get myself off was to picture my wife's mouth stretched around young man's brown rod struggling to take it all in while being gently encouraged by me. It became a staple of my daily life and a common scene I'd play in my idle moments at work when my mind drifted to dirtier topics. However, after a while I began to grow concerned. There was I had rationalized nothing wrong with a fantasy, but I found increasingly I was pushing to find a way to make this become a reality.

Every time I found myself looking at black men on the street, questioning if Darlene would find them attractive. I'd randomly google apps or websites for couples who wanted a threesome. I looked up if there were any swinging clubs in the area. It was innocent I told myself. Simple curiosity. But it was a thin veil of denial to hide what I quite obviously wanted. Still a part of me needed the pretense, while I sorted out my feelings and the realities of what I was doing.

Did I actually want my amazing wife of 20 years to fuck another man? Or even multiple men?

That answer was clear. Yes, I did.

Why was I ok with that? Did I not love Darlene anymore?

Of course, I did. That would never stop.

Was I not attracted to her anymore?

The urgent quickie we'd had a week ago before work answered that more than anything.

...Was I secretly a cuckold?

... No, I don't think that was the core of the dynamic I found so appealing. I was not into being humiliated, as far as I knew.

But I did want to see her get used by a man with a bigger dick than I. But not just any dick, a black one. I'd heard those things were largely synonymous though one should never go to the internet for a portrayal of reality. Still, you couldn't help but wonder. I'd never really interacted with black people until I entered high school and even then, we didn't often hang out in the same groups. I did remember a number of drunken conversations with friends at parties, and work functions, and while obviously not all of them could be huge, I had heard enough secondhand stories to know many were at least bigger than average.

Plus, a whole porn tag wouldn't be created if there weren't sufficient people who fit the criteria in question.

But even then, another man? Why not a woman.

These random thoughts and tangents swirled through my mind in a maelstrom. I did attempt to keep it to myself, but Darlene knew me well and it was second nature to share things with her. I resolved to tell her about my current obsession a month before our annual trip to New Orleans. My thought was that in the miniscule chance it would be something she was interested in exploring. Our trip to New Orleans would be a prime opportunity to try it.

On the bright side she didn't say no exactly. She just... laughed.

"So, I give you one of the best blowjobs of your life. On a Sunday night no less, with an early workday tomorrow and the first thing you want to ask is if I'd be interested in sleeping with someone else. Darling, I must've sucked half of your brains out along with your jizz."

Darlene was still chuckling while coming out from under the bed duvet to lay next to me. We were both naked and spent, after enjoying a passionate session that had left my brain addled in the way only a really good fuck can.

I turned to the side to ogle every inch of my wife's body. Soft and warm like every part of her is something you could sink into and lose yourself in. Her tits were full at 42DD, and I never got tired of fondling them. My fingers traced the curves of her tanned shoulder to the paler flesh of her boobs which I then began to cup and massage with a confidence built from familiarity.

"Mmm" she moaned in contented pleasure, shifting slightly to give me better access to her chest. "You are a bit more randy than usual today. But you're not getting another round out of me tonight."

"Well, you're always more open to my requests after you've cum a few times." The fondling of her breasts had moved to more concentrated teasing of her nipples, slowly building her arousal once more. "And doesn't it turn you on a little. To have a young man, with a huge cock fucking you as hard as we used to."

Her eyes were closed at this point as she slowly drank in the building sensations. Her lips parted slightly, and her tongue darted out to moisten them. She moved her body closer to till we could feel each other, and I noticed her hand move between her legs. From her movement I could tell she was going slowly only half listening to what I was saying, and even that half I didn't think she realized I was being serious.

"Darling you're still the only cock I would ever need, and don't count us out yet. We can still go pretty hard when we want to."

Despite her earlier statement, Darlene lifted herself flat on top of me, and then positioned herself so that her pussy could grind against my softened cock. As she gently rubbed herself back and forth, the hot juices, and smell of her sex, caused a familiar stirring in my groin. Apparently, I wasn't quite as spent as I thought. I grabbed her hips to pull her firmly against me, comfortably grinding. My cock grew in size until it naturally slid inside of her. We both took a moment as we were both very sensitive from our previous session. But then we resumed are slow grinding, with my dick inside her this time. It was not quite as passionate, but it was loving and sweet. Though I decided not to mention what I imagined pushing myself over the edge. That I kept to myself.

The next attempt was a day or two later. This time she took it more seriously.

"So, you're telling me you genuinely want me to have sex with some random black guy," she said while looking at me incredulously. "Well, yes. I think it would be exciting. Also, it wouldn't be random. We'd talk to the guy. Get to know him, make sure he's clean and someone we could trust. Who I'd trust with you!"

"Robert...where's this coming from," she asked in confusion. "Why would you want this, and why would you think I would want this."

"You told me those interracial videos recently were really getting you off recently."

"Yes, but that's just porn. I wouldn't actually do that. I'd never cheat on you like that."

"It wouldn't be cheating if we both agreed to it. If I was there as well participating."

A look appeared on her face that told me she was both conflicted and frustrated and I had better redirect the topic of conversation or this would devolve into either tears or an argument.

I did my best to backtrack and try to pretend it had just been a harmless fantasy. A silly idea. She didn't look convinced, but she went along with it regardless.

The third time I tried to bring it up she was blunt with her refusal.

The fourth time she was no less angry, but more exasperated.

I continued to make innuendos and naughty suggestions and while she still shut down any conversation about actually arranging it in reality, she began to recognize it as my favorite fantasy. Especially with how quickly it got me hard, and just how horny I became. A week before our trip she started talking dirty about how much she wanted me to watch her getting fucked by 3 black men, I ravished her with more energy and enthusiasm than I had done in years. It was an eye opener, however that was as far as she was willing to take it.

That is until the 4th day of our trip, when in a little bar in the middle of New Orleans, we ran into my co-worker Marlin.

Whenever anyone asked me why we kept visiting that city I would always say that more than anywhere else I'd been, the city felt alive. The never-ending throng of all the street musicians on Bourbon Street, tunes and melodies jumping between banjo and saxophone in a cacophony of rhythm that rocked something deep inside my soul. The scent of the wild magnolias, drawing you to the edge of the bayou, bursting with old hidden secrets that only the ferryman knows. The sparkle of the night lights and the color of the old houses. All of it building into a creole tune that sung so sweet I could never get tired of it. In fact, it was music that drew our attention to the bar in the first place, or rather Darlene's attention. Over our many visits we'd learnt to be able to distinguish between the fusion of music that blanketed the city and discovered some favorites, in particular Cajun and Zydeco music. A creole sound you'd usually hear around the French Quarter and particularly around Bourbon St.

We'd discovered it one of our earlier visits when walking down a side street we'd stumbled upon an impromptu Zydeco dance party, and everyone was all too happy to show us the steps. Unfortunately, I've never been much of a dancer though now I've gone to enough socials and events that I'm good enough to get by. My wife however is the true star. She loves it, to the point where I could say its her personal obsession. Not just in Cajun, but also salsa, bachata and various other dances. A week will hardly go by where she's not stopping by one dance class or another. I can never keep up so she frequently goes to these classes alone. However, whenever we go to New Orleans zydeco is a must as no one else knows it in our area back home. We'd spent 3 of our previous nights in the Tropical Isle Bayou Club, dancing to the late hours and stumbling back a hot sweaty mess. However tonight the club was closed due to maintenance.

We'd spent the evening at a river side restaurant and with the last few nights antics catching up with us, the rest of the evening was set to be a quiet in our hotel room. However, as we were walking, we passed a random local bar just as zydeco notes started playing. Darlene's head immediately snapped towards it, and even though I was feeling a bit drowsy, I knew there was no way we would be sleeping early tonight. We entered the bar, to find it was mostly empty with a couple of people either on the dance floor or the few tables scattered around. The crowd seemed to be mainly in the 30s though I saw a few people our age dotted around. It was small but in an intimate way and wasting no time Darlene immediately grabbed me to launch me into a dance. It took me a few steps to get into but once I was, the drowsiness faded, and I was wide awake.

We stepped and spun to the fast paced, swinging rhythm; familiarity as partners meaning it was easy to lead her it into flairs and dips that I may have otherwise botched with someone random. Dancing with Darlene always made me 10x more attractive to her, and after the end of the first song I was already feeling slightly randy. I pulled her close to leave a trail of kisses on her neck. My arms wrapped tight around her, enjoying the press of her breasts against my chest as her waist moved to the rhythm. I pulled back to look at her properly. My Darlene, my wife. Then the next song started up and it was time to switch partners.

The man who tapped on my wife's shoulder to ask for the next dance was Marlin.

He nodded in my direction with an expression of vague amusement. "Rob. Good to see you," he said in his lilting Caribbean accent. "I didn't realize your break would you bring here. I would've arranged for us to meet up sooner."

"I should be the one surprised, you never even mentioned you were on break, or that you danced Zydeco."

"Yeah, well it was a last-minute thing. My friend is part of the band playing. He's the one on saxophone." He pointed to the tall lanky man on with skin as dark as night, smooth bald head as he played a powerful solo.

"He lives in New Orleans, so I barely see him, but he's still a bit fresh after his divorce so I fly up a bit more regularly to check up on him. So here I am. The dancing part I learned from him too. He got really into playing Cajun and zydeco in college and pulled me along to the events no one else was willing to go on."

"So how do you know my husband," said Darlene whose hand was still in Marlin's watching this exchange while waiting to be either pulled away for a dance or at the very least to be introduced.

"Sorry, where are my manners. It's Marlin and I work together with your husband. Though he sticks more to the boring finance models and balance sheets, while I'm all about making things happen on site with maintenance and repairs. Though he is also one of the only people I can tolerate at that place, so he has that in his favor."

She chuckled at that. "I'm Darlene...so did you want to dance."

"Of course, my darling Darlene, let's go."

They moved to a separate spot on the dance floor and as they jumped into the rhythm it became complete clearly that Marlin was a very good dancer. He could swing his hips seemingly effortlessly to the beat. The two moved in sync and I could see Darlene's eyes half-close with a smile as she let the music carry her. Marlin was smoothly leading Darlene, into complicated leans and dips that had me wanting to ask for personal lessons.

At 5'8"tall, 170 pounds with long dreadlocks and a few tattoos, while Marlin was generally a smiling, relaxed person who was a lot of fun to go out with he could be quite intimidating when he wanted to be. Maybe intimidating is the wrong word, perhaps I should say dominant. He was well liked at work, friendly and sociable. But when it came to getting things done his interactions were very direct and intentional. He tended to tell people what to do rather than ask them, which to those who weren't used to it could come across as rude. But in truth he knew his job well, and just preferred to cut through the bullshit.

While I did know him from around work, we didn't start talking until the office Christmas party last year. The two of us realized we were both fans of Game of Thrones though I have no clue how we got to that topic of conversation. A dirty joke about the quantity of naked breasts vs naked dicks then lead to a full-blown conversation on our craziest sex stories and wildest adventures. A few too many beers in and I was perhaps inappropriately showing several nude pictures of Darlene to Marlin. Honestly, the night was a bit blurry with details missing and a massive hang over that was still leaving me groggy a few days later. But anyway, after that I tried to continually talk to Marlin, occasionally meeting to hang out or get drinks after work. I even told Marlin some personal things about Darlene during one of these after drinks. He was never rude, or prude. We simply had a similar sense of humor and he made me feel comfortable enough to share how great my wife was. I told Marlin what a great cocksucker Darlene is, how much she loves to swallow, I've even told him she's never done anal before, as hard as I've tried to convince her otherwise. I daresay he knows more about my sex life than I know about his.

He's always happy to share stories and anecdotes but he never volunteers the information. Still from what I've been able to grab he's still single with no kids in his 30s. His last long-term relationship ended badly and now he mostly just lives his life, punctuated with occasional flings and has fun when the opportunity presents. Though it seems in his younger days he was quite adventurous. With stories from all around the world with different women, in different scenarios, a sex parties and something involving snow that he refuses to elaborate on further.

I went to grab some drinks from the bar and watched the two of them dance for the rest of the song. At one point Marlin spun her round till her back was facing him, and then pulled her in close, with an arm round her waist and another on her arm to lead her. I saw Darlene's eyes widen for a moment before she refocused her attention on following the small motion of his hips as he grinded into her. This lasted only for a few beats of the song. But the look on Darlene's eyes as she turned back to face him with a small grin and her face flushed.

A look I believe Marlin saw too as even as the current song ended and the next one began, he didn't even pretend to stop and look for another partner, simply continued to lead her in a dance across the floor. Darlene only hesitated for a moment of confusion before continuing with a smile on her face. This time the song was slightly slower. The DJ giving it an RnB twist to make the sound more sensual. It gave more opportunities for Marlin to hold her waist and lead her into slow dips, and body rolls that rubbed their bodies against each other. His hands momentarily grazed ass and breasts. It was small and nothing too noticeable if you weren't paying careful attention, but I was. It was...exciting to watch, partially because they were skilled, expressive dancers, and partially because they both seemed lost in a trance in their own little world. But eventually this song ended as well, and this time Marlin lead her off the floor and back to where I was standing. He did not let go of her hand until he was standing right in front of me.