Val's Dark Desire

In vino veritas. A pitcher or two of margaritas will do the same. My wife, Val, was working the remote searching for something to watch. She shot past the channels she normally watches and entered the channels for adult viewing. So unlike her to watch porn I thought, but I was certainly not one to judge. I had my own secrets.

"Chuck, let's watch this one."

I almost too eagerly agreed. It was interracial. The acting was horrible. The actors weren't particularly attractive. The women looked cheap. Fake nails, fake tits, and loose vaginas and assholes. There was no plot and I was pretty sure the women were faking their excitement. The only one not faking it was the very dark skinned man with the almost ten inch cock jutting from between his legs. He had a shaved head, a diamond earring, perfectly white teeth, a lean, chiseled body, very little body hair, and a cudgel for a penis. He was a machine, able to piston his cock in and out of those women with no problem. I wondered how long it had taken for them to get used to a penis his size.

At slightly under five inches Val complained my penis left her sore afterwards, but as she put it, "In a good way." I was she said big enough for her. She enjoyed intercourse, but if given a choice, preferred cunnilingus to intercourse hands down.

She and I didn't do much talking as our focus was on him. He bedded three women during the movie, the first two too were a bit rough around the edges, but lady number three was a winner. Young, average height, little to no make up, skin so fair you know she avoided the sun, natural C cup breasts, a trimmed not shaved bush, curvy and fit they had to take their time getting him to fit her vagina. Unlike ladies one and two, lady number three could act. She acted so innocent and he did a good job seducing her. It was almost like we were watching two films, spliced together. One very bad, the other very good; the only constant being him.

His skin was so dark and the palms of his hands and soles of his feet so pale. I called him Ebony Man. Her skin was milky white, eyes dark blue, hair top and bottom dark brown. I labeled her Peaches and Cream. Ebony Man and Peaches and Cream possessed chemistry on screen. Val didn't do a lot of talking, but she did a lot of squirming.

A few minutes into the scene, she asked me to go down on her. I wasn't about to turn her down, but what we were doing was so out of character. Watching porn, getting naked, and having sex in the living room just wasn't something we did. She must have felt very confident we wouldn't be interrupted or the margaritas had significantly lowered her inhibitions.

She grabbed a couple of pillows so she could watch the movie.

I got between her legs, but before I started, she asked me, "You like my pussy don't you?"

I answered, "Val, I love your pussy."

"I don't think most men are as oral as you. My girlfriends share things with me. I feel pretty lucky and I feel bad for them. Their husbands think they are great lovers, but they aren't. They have no idea their dicks just aren't doing it for their wives. You, on the other hand, know it, accept it, and give me what I need instead of what you need."

"Trust me, Val, it's no sacrifice. I love eating you."

"Good. Go slow. No fingers, just your mouth. Got it? And no talking while I watch the movie."

I laid on my stomach, my back to the television, and pressed my face against her sex. I smelled her arousal and inhaled her aroma deeply. I began to tentatively lick, going slow, like she requested. I licked up and down each half of her labia, ran my tongue over her very hard and prominent clitoris, and then went down to her vaginal opening. She tasted delicious and was so very wet. The old wives tale of big hands, big feet, and big cock doesn't apply to me. I've got big hands, big feet, and a penis not particularly thick or long.

Her behavior was so out of character. I couldn't remember the last time she had been directive. She always went with the flow I initiated.

My penis is painfully hard. I hope I don't lose it all over the living room carpet and wished I had gotten a towel. Val had commented I needed to be more spontaneous, but it was in my nature to plan, to prevent the messes before they happened. I decided right then and there I would forego pausing the action while I got a couple of towels to put under us.

I had a couple of other things working against me. I had control issues and I took forever to get erect once I had climaxed. Val never made either of them an issue as I was all too ready to substitute my tongue for what my penis couldn't deliver.

From the way she is acting it's obvious she finds interracial sex quite arousing. What I haven't shared with her is I find it quite arousing too especially if the woman in question is married to a man who isn't the one fucking her. In the movie we were watching they were all single, but he was on the hunt for Miss Right. He fucked a few frogs on the way, but in the end he found her. I had been having cuckold fantasies for years and my obsession had only gotten worse, but it was something I hadn't shared with Val.

It was too weird I thought and I thought as conservative as she was there was no way she would see it as anything but disgusting. I didn't need my wife to see me as some sort of twisted pervert. My fantasy was pretty well developed, but I had done nothing to make it real.

I did wonder if my premature ejaculations had gotten worse because subconsciously I wanted to be a failure at fucking or if nature was merely winning out. No matter how much I tried I was a beta male, more of a watcher than a doer. I wasn't a womanizer and was courteous with my wife never assuming she was mine for the taking.

Anyway, I can't see a damn thing as my face is not only buried between her legs but I'm facing away from the television. She is very into what she's watching. It took some time, but eventually Ebony man drives more and more of his cock into Peaches and Cream. He's about halfway in her, slowly thrusting in and out when Peaches and Cream begins to get loud. I mean really loud and he's only halfway in her.

Fifteen minutes later I hear her beg him to put it all the way in. Shoving his entire length in her triggers a huge orgasm, but Ebony Man isn't closed to being done. Her vagina dilates and he goes from slowly and gently thrusting in and out of her to really pounding her pussy. I can hear her exhale each time he drives his manhood into her.

The last part pushed Val over the edge. He asks her if she is on the pill. She says no. He asks if he should pull out. She says no. He cautions her she might get pregnant. She says she doesn't give a damn. She just wants his cum.

Val is breathing heavy having just orgasmed and I am breathing heavy because I'm so turned on both by her excitement and the action in the movie which I couldn't see but could hear.

I'm surprised I haven't cum as turned on as I was. I wonder if deep down I just couldn't bring myself to let go and ejaculate on the carpet.

Val looks down as I am now resting on my haunches, my erection jutting in front of me. She tosses all the pillows save one to the side, lays back down, and tells me to fuck her.

She is so wet, I slide into her with no problem. I usually start out slow, but she says, "Hard, like he did to her."

I fuck her with the speed of a dog mating. I didn't need to last long because Val is going to town on her clitoris. She knew I wouldn't last long so she was going to make sure she got hers before I got mine. I don't think we fucked for more than a minute before she could tell I was climaxing. She climaxed and told me to cum in her. It had been a while since we had made love and I felt like I came a bucket.

We lay there, me on top of her, breathing heavy, kissing, telling each other what a wow moment it was. I caress one of her breasts, lower my mouth and suck its very erect nipple. There's not a part of Val I don't like I tell myself.

Valerie coos as she runs her finger through my scalp, "Such a talented mouth you have Chuck. So oral. I think we need to do this more often. It's good for us."

I play dumb, "Do what more often. Drink margaritas?"

She slaps my shoulder, "You know what I mean. Break out of our rut."

I laugh, "So you think we're in a rut? When was the last time we had the house to ourselves and on a Sunday afternoon? Even now I worry they'll walk through the door."

"They're with my parents having a blast. We still have a lot of us time."

I point out, "It's hard to be creative when we have to plan everything for after they are in bed or before they wake up."

"There are times you could be more spontaneous. Those moments might be short and rare, but you need to look for them. Drop down to your knees, lay me on the kitchen table. We need to take advantage of those times, keep things spicy."

"You're right. I do need to be less schedule oriented. I'm all about being organized which is great most of the time, but not for every situation. I used to be spontaneous."

I take a gulp before continuing, " I have a confession to make. I liked you being so directive, so in charge. It was a real turn on."

She answered, "Noted. I could tell you were pretty turned on. You came even faster than normal Mr. Minute Man."

I answered back, "I lasted long enough for you to get off."

She laughed, "True, but it's only because I was rubbing my clit so hard."

It was my turn to laugh and to confess, "I nearly came on the carpet several times. I was too paranoid about the stain I might leave."

She burst out laughing, "And I would have made you clean it up with your tongue." She sounded like she was joking, but was she?

There was a pause in our conversation. Since I had already admitted to being aroused by her taking charge while we were having sex, I decided to push the envelope and see how she felt about being in charge all the time, something I had wanted to experiment with her for years, "Val, you know how you were so in charge. I really liked it. Not just when we are having sex, but other times. It turns me on."

She tilted her head as though she was seeing me in a new light, "You do? You want me to be more bossy, more controlling? You're the first man in the history of mankind who wants a shrew for a wife. How about we touch our toes before we jump into the water on this one?"

I must have looked shot down. She tousled my hair, "You need a haircut. Why don't you go into the kitchen and make us another pitcher of margaritas and a big plate of nachos."

She added in a very seductive tone, "That wasn't a request, but an order Chuck."

I got off of her, but not before telling her she had the prettiest blue eyes. I walked into the kitchen and made us a pitcher of margaritas.

I brought the pitcher, refilled her glass and returned to the kitchen.

I returned fifteen minutes later with a plate of nachos. I made each one separately. Mine were topped with jalapenos and avocado. Hers were plain bean and cheese. I put the plate between us. We used an elbow to prop ourselves up but ate on our sides.

She took a bite and commented on how I make the best nachos and said, "You know in high school, a black boy had a crush on me. He was always asking me out. I always told him no. I worried what others would think if I said yes. Blacks and whites didn't mix. My parents are very liberal as are most of my relatives, but I didn't know if they were that liberal. I'm glad things are different now."

"Not everywhere, but it's getting better. Do you think about him?" I hoped I didn't sound jealous because I was just the opposite. She didn't even know it but she had kick started my cuckold motor.

"Sometimes. I'm sure he's married, has kids. He was a stud and very smart. He got two scholarships, one to play basketball and one for academics."

I could feel my penis stir when she referred to him not as athletic, but as a stud. A stud horse to breed my mare.

"You should look him up," I offered.

"Why? I'm married now."

I hoped I came across as innocent, not as a perv, didn't want to push too hard, "To see how his life turned out, catch up, compare family photos."

She didn't say anything. When I looked at her she focused on her nacho or her drink, but when I was looking elsewhere she was looking at me like she was trying to figure me out. I wondered if I had blown it.

I was just about to change the subject when she locked eyes with mine and said, "Maybe I will."

I swallowed. Were we dipping our toes in the water or was it my imagination? I felt jittery, "Good. I think you should."

She ate a few more nachos, drank more of her margarita. I did the same. I knew she was mulling something, but not what she wanted to talk about.

"About your request for me to be more controlling, I'm willing to try, but it won't be easy. You do so much around here already. You're a very thoughtful person. You already cook, clean, take care of the kids, mow the lawn, wash the cars, and do the laundry. For now, just keep doing all those things and I'll be happy."

It was a start and I was grateful she was at least willing to consider my request, to understand what I wanted may not be a big deal to her, but was to me.

"Thanks, Val."

"You're welcome. There's something I've been wanting to tell you, but haven't because I didn't know how you would react. You know my job requires me to travel to all these small towns. One of the people I visit is a man named Joseph. He's a very sweet man. Older than us. He's from Kenya. Whenever I visit him I stop by the outdoor market and buy him the foods he can't find in his town's grocery. From now on, before I visit him, I want you to go to the outdoor market and buy the items on his list. Would you do that for me?"

I felt my heart racing and my penis swelling. So innocent, but so much implied.

"I will, Val. When's the next time? Why were you worried about how I would react? Your request seems simple enough. Besides, I like shopping at the outdoor market. The kids really love it."

Val answered, "That's not what I've been keeping you from, but thanks for volunteering to do that. I really appreciate it and so will he. What I wanted to tell you is I think he's sweet on me."

"Sweet on you? How do you know?" I don't know why I asked the second question. She would know.

"Well, he always compliments me on what I'm wearing. He notices the littlest things, if my hair is done differently, my lipstick a different shade, even if my nail polish is a different color. He tells me my husband is a lucky man. After he found out we have three kids, he said something about how it was a blessing for me to be so fertile. He's single. Said in his town it's very hard for him to date. There are no women from Kenya. American women are too liberal for him, but he says I'm different. He says I like to please men. I dress modestly. I don't wear too much makeup. At first he would insist on taking me to lunch. He was initially nervous to be seen with me."

I encourage her to continue.

"I asked him why. He said it was because his small town is very white. People are very conservative. He can't remember the last time he saw an interracial couple. I told him, 'but Joseph we're not a couple. We're colleagues.' He said, 'True, but they don't know that. They just see a white woman and a black man.' We spend almost the entire day together going over the cases he's working on. He keeps very good notes and is very diligent about his duties. His clients think the world of him. He's a very good advocate for them to get the help they need."

What I learned early about women is they like to provide lots of background whenever they tell a story. Men are so much more abrupt, but women weave a tapestry. I had grown used to the details. This time I really appreciated it. She painted me a somewhat detailed picture.

"I've known Joseph for several years. We only see each other every other month, but the past few months I've had to see him more often. Anyway, two months ago, he invited me to lunch at his house. It's a small, older house, all brick, but well maintained. The inside is nicely decorated. He likes yard work and gardening. He made us lunch and told me all about his life. I told him about mine. He said he remembered the first time he saw me. I was probably seven or eight months pregnant with our last child. He was in town at a conference we were hosting. He commented on how beautiful I looked. He confessed to finding pregnant women very attractive. He said, 'it's because they have the gift of life inside of them. It makes them glow. They possess the gift of the divine.' He's a nice looking man. Shorter than you. Very fit. He is clean shaven, keeps his hair cut short."

I'm seeing in my head the pictures she is drawing for me of him, his house, their conversations.

"I find his compliments flattering not threatening. He's not creeping me out. As I said, he's an attractive man. We get along very well, but I also know I'm married. "

I interject, "Everyone gets along with you Val. You're a very sociable person."

She says, "True, but things have changed the past few months. When we first met we'd shake hands. We were friendly, but formal with each other. Now he stops whatever he is doing, gets up from behind his desk, walks over to me and wraps both arms around me, and hugs me. I hug him back. The hug is short, but I don't hug any other people who I supervise. I don't think I'd be receptive if it were other people, but with him I really look forward to his hugs. What's really changed is how we say goodbye and how we share our lunch. He's very spiritual. Before we eat he'll take my hands in his and say a prayer asking God to bless our food and to keep me healthy and fertile, to bless me with more children and to safeguard the ones I have."

I look at her. She looks down at me. There is an almost empty plate of nachos and two glasses between us. She reaches across and takes hold of my very erect penis. She doesn't caress it, just holds it. My erection is all she needs to know I want her to continue her story.

"I love that part of my lunch with him. His house is so cute, small, but so inviting. I had never seen the entire house, but a few months ago he gave me a tour of every room. I had commented on the paintings and the figurines he had of life and people in Africa. We ended up in his bedroom and stayed there for quite a while. He had on his bureau a photo album. I commented on how I loved photo albums. He asked if I wanted to see it. I told him of course I did. We sat on the edge of his bed, the photo album on my lap. He had a hand behind me. With his other he would cover his hand with mine as I changed the page or he would point out some detail of a photo I was looking at, always making a point to touch me. I feel so comfortable around him. He's such a gentleman. I feel around him like I do with you, safe. In his arms I know he would take care of me."

My poor little penis is dripping precum. She notices it and uses it as lubrication to rub the head of my penis.

"Should I continue?" she asks.

I nod my head and choke out a yes.

"The room feels warmer. I wonder if it's me. We finish looking at the album. I'm a bit embarrassed to tell you this, but my breasts have never felt so full in front of a man. I glanced at myself in the mirror and my nipples were obviously erect. I was horrified and aroused at the same time. I didn't want to be sending him a mixed signal, but my body was saying otherwise. I thought he works for me. I'm his boss. He's so religious. Will he think less of me? He knows I'm married. Why was I so turned on? What about him did I find so attractive? Was it because we were so intimate, sitting on his bed, our thighs touching, his hand on top of mine, his other hand right by the crack of my butt?"