I was asked a while back to write about the housewives of McKinney, Texas, an upscale bedroom community north of Dallas. I declined to write about the ladies, my close friends, out of fear that I might be discovered. I was assured that if I didn’t give their true names, no one would know. Still. I was hesitant to write anything because, you know, ladies talk.

Then one of our group members decided she would start chronicling our discussions, so to beat her to the punch, I decided I’d write down our stories, often retold with great excitement every Monday when we meet at a local Starbucks.

There are five of us, Jane, Roxanne, Emily, Joanne and me, who shall remain nameless, for now. We all met on-line in a social media group and over a period of several months, we had many great discussions, so someone suggested we meet up in person. When we got together, it was as though we were all, already, good friends, having chatted and posting notes to one another in a social media chat, for several months. We knew the names of each other’s husbands, and their quirks, and the names of our kids and the schools they attended.

 * * * *

We had decided to tell stories about our experiences with men who were not white. No one really   wanted to go first, but Joanne couldn’t wait to tell us about her secret affair with Jose, her Mexican landscaper, which in turn prompted to me to make a personal inquiry of Joanne to see if said landscaper was still around. Lucky for me he was, and Joann was more than willing to set me up with him.

So, on an appointed day, I prepared myself for an escape. The night before, I shaved and when I say I shaved, I shaved everything and when I say everything, even I shaved downstairs as well. I hadn’t done that in years and it was kind of erotic feeling the bareness in that special place.

The next morning, after getting the kids off to school, I slipped into some skin-tight leotards, sans panties and a pull over t-shirt, sans bra. I brushed back my hair and applied some lightly toned lipstick, just enough to insure one of my better accoutrements would be noticed. I called Joanne to make sure we were still on.

I was giddy with excitement at the thought of hooking up with someone other than my husband, not that Rick was a bad husband, but sex with him had become old and traditional. I wanted, dare I say it, but I craved something different.

Joanne was a perfect hostess. I was a little surprised when she answered the door still clad in her nightie and a short robe tied at the waist. Obviously, I was way over-dressed. Joanne proffered a wink and a hug and told me that I looked sexy. She led me out to the patio, where she had a table set up for two, for a breakfast.

“Wait here,” she said, “Let me grab our breakfast.”

The backyard looked like something out of Better Homes and Gardens. Joanne reappeared with two glasses of orange juice in hand and a young Hispanic guy, followed her, clad in some very sexy tight jeans. He was shirtless and he carried a tray with two plates on it.  Oh my.

“Buenos dias,” he said in Spanish as he sat the tray down on the table. Joanne sat the glasses on the table and said, “I’ll be back in a bit. This is Jose. He’s going to share his breakfast with you.”

I looked at Jose and he nodded his head, as he took up a seat across the table from me. Damn.

Jose looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties. He was charmingly handsome, with jet black hair and – oh my God- those biceps and pectorals just screamed out, to be touched. Deep breath and exhale.

Jose didn’t say anything as he sat down. It was an awkward moment. Finally, I got up the nerve to ask him if he spoke English.

“Poquito,” he replied, adding in a thick accent, “I understand more than I can speak.”

As we spoke, Jose nervously downed the scrambled eggs and sausage in front of us. I asked where he was from and he said “San Luis.” I understood Saint Louis, as in Missouri, but he explained he was from a town in Mexico, not Missouri. Dummy me.

I asked him if he liked American women.

“Si,” he responded in Spanish.

I brushed back my hair over my shoulder with my hand and asked him if he found me attractive. I was nervous as hell.

“Yes,” he replied in English. “I love American women.”

Our conversation was rather light. He said he had been working as a landscaper for about ten years. His family was still in Mexico. He had a daughter, Silvia, who was ix years old.

“She is with her mother in Mexico,” Jose said, fishing out a photo from his billfold to show me. I asked him about the mother in the photo.

“She was a mistake,” Jose said. “I love my Silvia, but her mother is a beach.” I’m pretty sure he meant “bitch”, but he said “beach”. 

“Women can be a bitch," I noted.

“You are no beach,” Jose replied, “You are beautiful.”

I loved his thick accent. I asked him where his shirt was, since he was sitting there shirtless.

“Joanne,” Jose said, “she took my shirt from me. She said it was dirty and needed to be washed.”

I placed my hand under my chin and looked straight into his brown eyes.

“Do you like Joanne?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “She takes good care of me.”

“I can take good care of you as well,” I replied.

Joe smiled. He stood up and repositioned himself, right in front of me, staring down at me, his arms crossed across is bare chest. He cocked his head to the side and asked,

“How would you take care of me?”

I sat forward in the edge of the chair and motioned for him to step closer to where I was seated. I reached out and silently guided him between my parted legs. I could see that he had a good start on a massive erection by the size if the bulge in his jeans.

“Well,” I started, looping a lone finger into the waist band of his skinny jeans, “first of all, these tight jeans are going to have to go.”

I fumbled with the snap to the jeans and managed to pry open the fly. The bulge in his jeans seemed to expand even more. I pulled his jeans down to reveal the issue at hand. I yanked his boxer shorts down, his massive cock flopping out of them. He silently toe-to-heel kicked off his tennis shoes and then settled back on to a chair beside the table, stripping out of his jeans and his underwear in the process.

I immediately dropped to my knees in front of him and parted his legs. He had the biggest cock I have ever seen. Not only was it massive and thick, but it was long, very long, probably nine or ten inches in length- it was porno-movie long. There was no way I would be able to do him, I thought to myself. This guy is that huge.

Jose placed his hand on my head and guided me downward. I gently wrapped my fingers around his massive tool and squeezed it. I kissed the greyish tip end of his circumcised tool.  Jose let out a soft moan of approval. I slipped his massive tool into my mouth, but only managed to get about half of it in my oral cavity.

Suddenly, I heard Joanne asking,

“Do you want me to show you how to do it?”

I practically jumped out of my skin. Joanne slipped on to her knees beside me and I slid back to allow her access to Jose’s massive cock.

“You have to take in a deep breath and push it all the way to the back of your throat,” Joanne declared, as she took hold of Jose’s cock. “You breathe through your nose.”

I watched as Joanne slipped Jose’s tool into her mouth as she deep throated him. After several very erotic head bobs, she slipped to the side and head-motioned me to give it a try. I took in a deep breath and slipped Jose’s massive cock back into my mouth. I could feel the tip of it at the top of my throat near the back of my mouth. My instant reflex was to gag, but Joanne reminded me to breathe through my nose. The gagging feeling subsided. Suddenly, I realized I had his entire cock in my mouth. Oh yeah!

Joanne became my cheerleader. She then helped me to strip out of my leotards. Jose was all over me in an instant, kissing and fondling my breasts, telling me how beautiful I was. The three of us made our way to Joanne’s bedroom, where Jose took his time pleasuring me, orally, as Joanne looked on.

I was worried if I would be able to handle a cock the size of Jose’s. Jose asked for me to straddle him, which in hindsight, was something that probably worked in my favor. As I settled on top of him, straddling him, I wandered how on earth I would be able to take something the size of his tool into my tiny little hole. I guided his tool to the edge of my pussy and took in a deep breath. To my surprise and bewilderment, there was no pain at all as Jose’s massive cock filled me up and fit perfectly inside of me. I rocked back and forth on top of him, my white skin clashing against his dark brown skin. Jose massaged my breasts, teasing my nipples, driving me crazy. I picked up the pace as the blood flow flew into my crotch. I couldn’t hold back.  An intense orgasm ricocheted through me, and my entire body shook uncontrollably. Oh my God, just thinking about it, and writing about it, gives me chills.  

I lost track of my orgasms, as they rolled through me, one after the other.  Eventually, Jose emptied himself inside of me, grunting and sweating profusely. His massive hands – oh my God- those manly massive hands, drove me crazy.

Joanne lay on her side beside us, smiling.

“How was it?” she asked as I rolled from off my new secret lover.

“Damn good” I replied.

I asked Joanne if I could use her shower and she readily agreed. Jose slipped into the tight confines of the shower with me and thanked me. He playfully worked the soapy sponge across my body and then I did the same for him. We stood and kissed under the spray of the shower for the longest time.  

I went back to the house a little wobbly some time after lunch. I laid down and took short nap, something I almost never do. The ringing of my cell phone work me up. Somehow, I managed to find the strength to pick up the kids and then I laid back down to revel in the joys of being tired from such a wonderful and exciting erotic sexual experience.

Rick thought I was getting sick. I reassured him I was perfectly OK. Outwardly, I was, sort of, but inwardly, I was craving a return experience. Joanne said I was crazy. Then I reminded her that she was the one who started all of this.

On Monday, neither of us mentioned the events of the past week. I looked at Emily and asked her if she had a story to tell. Emily smiled and said, “I once had sex with ten black dudes at a party.”

I and everyone else sat in silence, not believing what we had just heard. Emily smiled and said, “It was a one-time fuck session. It was at college. I had a boyfriend with a huge dick, and you know that black dudes love to show off their big dicks. The only thing bigger than his dick was his freaking attitude. He dared me to fuck all of his frat buddies. I fucked every one of them, with him there, then I left him high and dry, begging for a shot at me. He could never live it down. We eventually separated and went our separate ways.”

No way. Emily said she had video to prove it. This began my exploration into porn. It also peaked my curiosity about having multiple partner sex. I took two aspirins and privately called Emily to ask if I could come over.