The bulge in the man's jeans is almost comically large and it's about all I can see in the video I'm watching. The cameraman has zoomed in such that the man's crotch fills the screen. A woman's hand glides over the bulge from above his beltline, her wedding band and solitaire catching my full attention. She takes her time, fingers and palm meandering fully south to cup his balls in her palm. She pauses to squeeze and chuckle a compliment or two about his size, then moves back north and northeast toward his hip. She's clearly enjoying herself and repeats the journey taking her time. When she pauses to cup his balls his bulge looks as long as her forearm.

How different life must be, I think to myself, going through life with a shlong like that. I sigh with the longing of the "have-nots" watching the "haves" and feel the first familiar surging of my arousal. Damn, it must be nice. My mind idles along random paths as the lovers warm up. What an incredible turn-on for this wife to have sex with such a man, I think, especially while married to another. And how the heck do they set up these rendezvous anyway? My parallel thoughts take me to my own wife and our lifestyle. Sorry, that's ex-wife now and our former lifestyle. No wonder she did what she did.

I don't quite catch all the dialog in the video, but the gist of the conversation is that this is a white wife-an amateur "hotwife"-who has never been with a black man before. The plot is thin and predictable, but still arouses. It's the amateurishness of it that makes it real and therein lies much of the arousal. The idea that Someone really did this! is always on your mind. Some married chick is having sex with another man just for fun. This is just sport fucking. We of the monogamous ilk are amazed. Does her husband know? Does she taunt him? Or does she just cheat and revel in her secret naughtiness?

There is kissing we hear and some hip grinding we see, but the cameraman concentrates on the man's crotch, focusing his attention (and ours) on the wife's hand-we learn it's the husband doing the filming which adds points to the kink-squeezing and caressing before zooming out to show her removing his shirt. The wife's bull is middle-aged and in better than average shape, but nothing really special. He just happens to have a horse cock that mesmerizes us all, a character of its own in this vignette.

We now register that the woman is tall and slim, and is perhaps only slightly younger than her bull, though she's in terrific shape. We don't see her face. She stands in high heels displaying long athletic legs, wearing see-through stockings that come to mid-thigh, and nothing else. We presume the foreplay that removed the rest of her clothing has itself been stripped from the video. We glimse her smallish ass full on momentarily before she turns and presses her toned body against his, her pubic mound against his left hip. Her left hand casually wanders from his chest to his crotch and back as we catch a glimpse of their mouths clamped together, tongues probing. His left hand grips her naked ass, his middle finger gently pumping her wetness. He stands proudly facing the camera squarely, his right hand on his hip. He likes being on display, likes taunting the husband, and by extension likes taunting all of us who can only dream of his endowment.

Their conversation has mixes of erotic encouragement along with nervous laughter. These are not pros and appear to have just met. Anonymous fucking. A hired stud? More points. A random thought: I wonder if I'll ever find some homemade online video with my ex-wife in it. The thought is random but ubiquitous, flashing in my mind almost every time I surf for this sort of thing online.

She slowly slides down his body to a squatting position, her hands trailing along like an afterthought. She takes her time unfastening his pants, unzipping them, and sliding them over his thighs and down to his feet. She keeps her eyes on his pants the whole way down so viewers are torn between watching her eyes and staring at the outline of his horse cock arching up and over toward his hip. He wears boxer-briefs, so the outline of his powerful cock is clear; his circumcision obvious. We anticipate her reaction while waiting for it.

Her back to the camera now after removing his pants, we miss her expression but hear her murmurs of delight as she looks up at him, the throbbing buldge unmistakably her new focal point. She slides both hands up his thighs then reaches with her left hand once again to knead that magnificent bulge. She knows her husband wants to see that ring and puts on a good show. She squeezes his cock firmly near the base and holds that position for a moment, like a rock climber getting ready to pull herself up. The husband zooms in. The symbology of the wedding ring is intense. This is cuckolding at its finest. The head of that incredible cock strains against the fabric near his hip.

"Look at that fuckin' thing," she says. "Unbelievable."

She doesn't verbally abuse her husband; that's not their thing. Their kink is more subtle, the denigration implied. Hubby can't compete with what she has in her hand. They all know it.

In response to something her husband says she shifts slightly to the side, allowing us a better perspective, then of her own accord slides her cheek up her lover's left thigh until her pouty lips approach the bulbous head.

Her left hand has not let go of that cock; her right slides up the back of his left thigh to scrape her nails against his ass before grabbing it. She's getting impatient now and lustfully clamps her mouth over the plum head of his cock, closing her eyes and savoring the moment. I almost expect her to growl and shake it like a dog. But she shifts to her knees and holds that position, eyes closed...fist at the cock base, thick shaft bowing toward us, her mouth covering the mushroom head. We hear her quiet muffled grunt and a moment later the groan of her erotic pleasure. Throughout the video, you are occasionally aware of the husband's breathing from behind the camera, his quickening pulse apparent. At this point in the video you actually hear the husband groan. 

The man attached to the cock grabs a handful of hair at the back of her head and pulls her face firmly against his crotch. He holds her forcefully in that position for several moments with both hands, cock and balls grinding against her face, then affords her a release. She pulls her head back only slightly, then spurred by her lust yanks the band of his underwear down and over his cock freeing it with enough momentum that it slaps her in the face. She jerks back reflexively then laughs, turning slightly to glance back and share the laugh with hubby.

At his point I actually gasped and said aloud, "Oh my god...dimples...just like Cindy."

I actually stop the film at this point and sort of hold my chin in my hand as I gaze breathlessly at this image: A happy, randy, white wife, left hand wrapped around a massive black cock, laughing with delight. The freeze frame has caught her in full dimpled smile with eyes half-lidded, generally focused back on the cockhead. Her hand is slightly relaxed but is still holding the cock, her fingers not touching tip to thumb due to his girth. Her wedding ring is barely visible, the diamond just barely catching and reflecting the light. The cock is almost fully engorged and is both intimidating and intoxicating in its potential. You can't help wondering what it's like to be him. Or her.

She's getting ready to experience the kind of athletic fucking I could only dream of giving. It's erotic but terribly punishing at the same time. My mind goes as it always does to Cindy. Did she ever do something like this? Did she ever have such a powerful cock? Was she drawn to other men because of their size or physical power? Or did she do it just to dominate me?

I'm probably torturing myself - in fact I know I am, thinking of my ex so often, dreaming of her, fantasizing about her and all her infidelities. But I can't help it. We've been apart a year now, officially divorced for six months. I'm dating other women but still hung up on the sexy but infuriating woman who wore my wedding ring for almost twenty years. I can't stand her and lust for her in equal measure.

I take a deep breath and then breathe out slowly through my nose. I'm aroused but also just a little messed up mentally. I play the film. Back in motion again, the dimple-cheeked wife (in my mind's eye my dimple-cheeked wife) wraps her slender fingers around the absurdly large cock, turns to face her husband with eyebrows raised and a fake look of horror on her face and says, "Oh my god. It's fucking huge!" Then turns back to face the monster, stroking it slowly and firmly in admiration, a dreamy smile spreading her lips.

Her lover jokes, "You really think so? It's really just so-so for a black man." All three of them laugh, the husband's laughter loudest of the three, almost zany in his anticipation. I chuckle as well. Then the wife circles the swollen head with her tongue before doing her best to stuff the smooth head into her mouth without scraping him with her teeth. It's an effort. The thought crosses my mind that he may be just a little too big.

Just then my doorbell rings, startling me from my reverie. Who the hell can that be? I wonder as I close the laptop and head for the door. It's just after 8:00 p.m. on a Friday night. I haven't a clue.

Just as I am about to reach the door, the doorbell rings again. I'm coming, dammit. I don't take the time to check my appearance nor do I look through a side window to see who my visitor is before throwing open the door.

I couldn't be more surprised by who I find.

We're both silent for a few moments, taking one another in, my mind momentarily blank as a slate. After an awkward few moments of silence I sort of blurt, "I was just thinking of you." And immediately regret my words. I'm sure I blushed.

"In that case I'm glad you don't look angry. Mind if I come in?" Her smile is almost apologetic. Her eyes scan down and back up, her look taking on a hint of amusement.

I'm sure I look flushed and am self-conscious about my disheveled appearance. We've only seen one another a couple of times since we separated and I've always done my best to appear the picture of cool insouciance. Not this time. I'm pretty sure my erection is gone but wonder if my pants are askew.

"Are you alone?" I finally manage.

"Yes," she says. "Are you?"

I stand aside, nodding curtly, and with a gracious wave of my arm offer hospitality to my ex-wife.

To be continued...