Monday 18th June 2018, morning

Monday morning was a clusterfuck of people getting on my nerves. A series of three one-hour conference calls, mostly to give people the opportunity to let me and their colleagues just know that they were there and had something to say, however inane or blindingly self-evident the point they made was. But hey, what did they care? They’d ticked a box, had their voice heard and could move onto the next call to justify their existence and monthly pay-check.

By the start of the third of these calls, I was thinking back fondly to the days when a small team of two or three would actually just do the work, rather than have a five-month process whereby one poor sap did ninety-nine percent of the work and another nine or ten had ‘stakeholder’ meetings and ‘peer reviews’ twice monthly for a half a year, to critique what should have been a simple one month project all along.

The only good thing was that this seemingly never-ending round-robin of people listening to their own voices gave me plenty of time to start thinking over the bombshell Jill had left ticking in my lap as she’d scooted out the door and headed to work. Malcolm’s kind offer of dinner that evening, as a thank you to me for letting him spend the last weekend with Jill.

My mood wasn’t great from all the garbage I was forced to listen to, and with an acidic attitude, I thought that if he wanted to thank someone, that someone ought to be his boss Luther rather than me. After all, I’d not been the one who’d agreed and set up for Jill to spend the weekend with him. That was purely Luther, just the latest little turn of the crank on the game of exploration he’d warned me he wanted to play with me and Jill.

As the pointless back and forth continued on the call, I reflected on the fact it had only been just over two weeks since we’d first met Luther. And already in those two weeks, he’d seduced Jill into his own bed (not that she’d needed much seducing), sent his girlfriend Dee over to tie Jill up and play with my wife in a sapphic display of lust, arranged for a four cock black only gangbang for Jill, before topping the whole thing off by lending Jill to his Head of Security for the whole weekend. And if that wasn’t enough, he’d also persuaded Jill to come work for him, no doubt so he could repeat the whole thing all over again.

Taking this all on board, the thought of Jill being in L.A. for a few extra days didn’t seem so bad after all. At least she was away from the clutches of Luther for a few days. When he’d shared a beer with me and had a ‘mano-a-mano’ chat about how he thought Jill and I would enjoy him expanding our sexual horizons a little, I had no idea he’d work so fast and on so many different fronts.

All of which brought me right back to the question at hand – the one I was desperately trying to avoid. What to do about Malcolm’s offer of a thank-you dinner later today? Malcolm didn’t strike me as the same arch-manipulator that his boss Luther was. From what I’d seen and heard he certainly had the same capacity for extreme violence if and when crossed. But compared to Luther he struck me as a more straightforward and less ‘chess-player’ kind of guy.

But whether he was manipulative or not, he’d struck a bullseye in identifying and targeting the softest part of my armor. My overwhelming inability to resist temptation when it came to sharing Jill with other guys and watching quietly from the shadows while we played our game, each enjoying it in our very different ways.

I knew Jill and I had been apart since Friday morning and that the rest of the week after today would be hectic for both of us with two sets of work commitments in L.A. and all the hustle and bustle of wedding preparations and rehearsals. Tonight had been the only night available to Jill and myself for some quality time together as a couple. To reconnect and guard against the risk we let things get out of control like they did last time.

All of these were very good and very strong arguments in favor of declining, but on the other end of the seesaw was my big fat desire to see Malcolm and Jill together up close in real life. Between them, Luther and Dee had tormented me from Friday night onwards, forcing me to watch the budding relationship between by wife and their man-mountain friend through a series of semi-adequate camera feeds, first from the club and then from Luther’s house. I was now being offered the big fat temptation of trading in a loving, romantic night with Jill for an evening of gut-wrenching, nerve-jangling wife-sharing angst and adrenaline.

And I guess that’s the thing with addictions and lifestyles like this. Even when you know they’re bad for you and that the other road represents a choice much healthier and better for you, the healthy road lacks the outright high-end screaming intensity and living-on-the-edge buzz of the dangerous path. Maybe poor taste to mention it, but my mind went back to Michael Schumacher.

A man who’d lived his life on the edge, driving race cars at insane speeds around hairpin bends and life-threatening chicanes. And when push came to shove, he no matter how many world championships he won, he just couldn’t stop pursuing the adrenaline-fueled highs. Ending up living a life permanently under intensive care, the result of seeking just one more rush, and then another, and another. Until his luck ran out and all that awaited was Intensive Care.

With a shiver down my spine, I wondered if that was what awaited Jill and me. If whether with Malcolm, or the next Malcolm or the one after that we’d meet our Michael Schumacher moment when our luck ran out and Jill and Dave paid the price.

That shiver brought me up short and strengthened my resolve to call Jill after the last of my morning calls and tell her I’d made my call and we’d be spending the evening at home, curled up together with a good bottle of red and an evening of talking and making love.

But of course, the life of an addict isn’t that straightforward. The life of an addict is full of good intentions and broken promises, to self and to others. That shiver ran down my spine mid-way through the second call, and that left a good hour-and-a-half for the demons that tormented me to do there worst and drag me away from my good intentions. And sorry to say, I didn’t put up much of a fight, because by twelve-ten I was calling Jill and telling her what she was smart enough to probably already know. Giving her a green light to ring Malcolm and say yes to his dinner invite.

I could hear the happiness and lightness in Jill’s voice as she heard me. I could almost picture the smile and anticipation on her face. It was the first of several twists of the knife that I was going to experience that day, although if I was more honest with myself I’d admit that this was at least half the reason I allowed Jill the life I did.

***

The next big twist of the knife in my gut came in the early evening. When I got home a little early from work, only to see that Jill had come home even earlier. I guessed the reason for her uncharacteristically early exit from work, and entering my own home as quietly as I could my guess at her motives was confirmed. Because as I quietly eased our bedroom door open, there she was quietly singing to herself as she sat at her dressing room table in new lilac lingerie which I didn’t recognize, concentrating on carefully applying her make-up.

Another half twist to the dagger in my gut as the little demon in my head whispered how Jill never took this much time on her prep and make-up with me anymore. I know that she loves me deeply, but I guess the saying familiarity breeds contempt has a basis in fact and human behavior. Jill and I had been lovers and friends for more than twenty years, making it hard for me to compete with a relationship that was just in its early and most exciting stage. All the newness and anticipation of what might be and what was to come. So different from a marriage which had a strong rearview mirror and a forward windscreen of work, stress and babysitting grandkids – with the odd date night squeezed in between work and parental commitments.

With a light cough, I announced my presence. “Hi, honey,” Jill responded, the smile on her face telling me how pleased to see me she was and making my sense of self-pity recede to the back of my brain for a while. Although the fact that Jill’s smile meant she was unaware of how the happiness of her mood might hurt my feelings did tweak my angst button.

With an air of rueful reflection rather than hurt, I decided to say something, making sure to choose my words and tone carefully.

“You look good, honey,” I told her, standing behind her and kissing the back of her neck. “I remember when we were like this,” leaving my words deliberately vague in order to seed the conversation but not start a fight.

Jill turned and looked at me with a smile, her beautiful breasts full and gently heaving against the soft lilac material of her bra cups. “I love you, baby. Just say the word if you’d prefer to spend tonight at home. That would be just as nice.”

Despite how looking at her boobs and her sexy body was making me feel horny, I knew that Jill had called my bluff. Even if I did take her up on her offer, I’d probably change my mind ten minutes later. And Jill knew all of this very well, which is exactly why she’d been happy to make her offer. Playing the doting and faithful wife, knowing there was precisely zero chance I’d have the resolve or backbone to take up her offer.

We just looked at each other, in that moment our eyes telling each other we both realized how far this game had come in the last eight or nine months. Both knowing how far into this thing we were. How impossible it now was to close the lid on this new game we were both so hooked on playing.

She was still sitting at her dressing table stool. With a playful waggle of the finger, she beckoned me to lower my head next to hers so that we could share a kiss, Jill taking great care not to smudge her lipstick.

“I thought so, honey. But never mind, we’ll be together in L.A. later in the week.” My stomach flinching as a light-headed feeling came over me. The unspoken inference of Jill’s words being that she and I wouldn’t be spending tonight together. Of course, I’d considered the prospect that ‘dinner’ might end up as a lot more than dinner. But I’d thought that the die wasn’t cast, that there was a chance that Jill might still be coming home with me tonight. But the fact that even this early in the evening she was suggesting that the die was cast brought me up short.

If true, this would be the third night in four that she’d spent with Malcolm, and my heart was beating faster and I felt myself wince as I remembered back to that terrible last weekend of Jill’s affair with Chris when I thought she had left me for him. All of the pain and the hurt came flooding back as if it was only yesterday.

It was as if Jill could read my mind. “Baby, don’t overthink it. This isn’t the same as Chris. You and I will have the rest of the week together. Together with our family, celebrating our family. This is just one night baby, and I promise you we can stop and come home any time you want. Okay, honey?” Her look one of genuine love and concern. Only slowly changing to a hint of a smile as the seconds passed and I didn’t take her up on her offer. Which was something she pretty much knew from the get-go.

***

There was a nervous tension between us as I drove us across town to Malcolm’s house. My joints and muscles felt alive with the tension and excitement of it, the fear and anticipation all mixed together in a cocktail I knew was bad for me but which I was powerless to resist.

After what had happened with Chris, I’d grown used to the more carnal and unemotional activities that she’d shared with our two young neighbors Josh and Freddy, and similar events with Luther after that. But this felt more like a return to how things had been with Chris. In those long months when she’d switched from seeing Chris nearly every day as his PA, to still being his PA but also now his lover and quasi-girlfriend.

I told myself I was being stupid. After all, Jill had known Chris for five years before our new lifestyle had allowed their long-suppressed attraction to finally flower as they became lovers. Jill had only known Malcolm a handful of days, so any comparisons with her relationship with Chris were surely fanciful, more a creation of my fears than based on reality. But however much I rationalized things and told myself otherwise, I couldn’t escape this nagging feeling. Something about how the two of them looked at each other, the way I’d heard them talking and bonding on that damned video Luther had manipulated me into watching on Saturday night.

My mental toing and froing and hand wringing was interrupted by the squeeze of Jill’s soft fingers on mine. “We’re here baby. Are you sure you’re okay with this? You sure you want to go through with this?”

I knew my subconscious was pulling a face, unable to hide the whirling mix of emotions I was feeling. And I wondered how this face looked to Jill and what it made her think. Whether it made her think any the less of me – a man who’d rather watch and share than have her all to myself back in our home and matrimonial bed. And whatever she might have been thinking about me, she wasn’t letting on, just smiling lovingly and repeating her go-to reassurance from last night. “Just remember, honey, anytime you want to stop, just say the word.”

***

As our feet crunched on the drive, I had to admire Malcolm’s place. For a guy around fifteen years younger than me, he’d done well for himself. The alimony payments to his wife and daughter in L.A. obviously hadn’t made too much of a dent on his savings judging by the size and style of his one-story ranch style home. My ego was pleased that it wasn’t as big as our place, but then again that had been a home for the five of us paid for by more than fifty years of Jill and my combined salaries. This guy’s only slightly smaller home was just home to Malcolm and had been paid for just by him and over a much shorter period. Maybe crime, or whatever polite society classified Luther’s business as, really does pay.

Having surveyed the house and made my comparison, the next thing my male pride focused in on was the way Malcolm smiled at Jill and gave her a big hug as he opened the door and greeted us. His smile spoke volumes, and I was glad that he stood next to Jill so I couldn’t see the way that she looked at him, because instinct told me that might have been too much for my pride.

We handed over two bottles of wine and a homemade peach crumble that Jill had specially baked for him before she’d started primping and preening herself for him. (Apparently over the weekend he’d complained about a lack of real home cooking in his life and had shared his grandmother’s family recipe for peach crumble from before the family had moved to L.A. and home had been in Georgia.) Malcolm then shook my hand with a power that was noticeable but stayed just the right side of playing some cliched adolescent power game.

“Hey, Dave. Glad you and Jill could make it,” he greeted us, his smile warm and welcoming and not displaying any hint at what things he, no doubt, had planned for my wife later that evening.

He took both our jackets and handed them to Jill. “Jill, honey, could you put them in the closet, while I take Dave through to the lounge,” his inference clear, that while I was a newbie and stranger in his house, my beautiful wife already knew her way around. As I followed him through the kitchen into the lounge I felt really light-headed and more than a bit nauseous at how the rest of the evening was going to play out. Jill had given me the option of us backing out several times, but now it was too late and I wondered whether I was up to what lay ahead. For some reason, a mental picture of Chris’s smug face kept popping up large as life in front of me.

***

Jill wasn’t long and I soon had the comforting feel of her body next to mine on the sofa, as she grasped my hand and stroked it as Malcolm did his best to stoke small talk to ease the tension. He asked about work, about the upcoming wedding, even going so far as to ask if I was looking forward to being a grandad when John and Becky’s baby arrived at the end of the year. He shared a little about himself, saying he hoped his own daughter would one day make him proud like John and our daughters had made us proud.

I asked him about his family and career in the Army and how he’d met Luther, the answers to many of these questions I already knew from the Saturday night video feed Luther had manipulated me into watching. But it seemed the polite thing to ask, and slowly the ice thawed a little and the tension reduced somewhat.

After a while Malcolm excused himself, saying he had to do some turning and basting in the kitchen, and while he was out I took the opportunity to use the toilet. I wasn’t gone long but when I came back I saw that Jill was no longer in the lounge.

During all the polite conversation, I’d almost managed to forget the nature of the relationship between Jill and Malcolm. But with Jill now missing from the lounge, I had a sense of foreboding as I looked at the door between the lounge and the kitchen, which had been slightly ajar when Malcolm had gone through and which was now firmly shut.

Feeling like a naughty child, I put my ear against the wood of the door and heard hushed voices, but after a few seconds the voices stopped and all I could hear sounded a whole lot like kissing. Even after everything Jill and I had been through and done in the last few weeks, I’d never get used to the knowledge that my wife was next door making out with another man. I felt that sick feeling in my stomach, wishing for all the world I had superpowers to look through the shut door, not knowing always being a million times worse than knowing, however painful the knowing might itself be.

The lounge had a sliding door that led out onto the back decking and when I pulled at the handle I was excited to hear it silently slide open on its runners. Taking a deep breath (strangely thinking this would make me more stealthy) I slowly put one foot after the other on the wooden decking, easing my way along the twenty feet or so that would allow me to see into the kitchen, which had a matching sliding door slightly open to allow some airflow on the balmy June evening.

Easing my head just an inch or two further along I was no longer looking into the lounge, but into the Kitchen, my heart stopping as I looked through and saw Jill and Malcolm locked in a tight clinch, lips locked together as they shared a seemingly never-ending kiss.

When they did break for air, they just looked at each other hungrily, for the moment neither of them wanting to speak, just enjoying being back together after a whole twenty hours apart. They looked so incongruous stood there together in each other’s arms. The giant black man, all six-foot-seven and three-hundred-pounds of him, head bowed as he looked down at the beautiful white woman, wrapped in his arms and still half a foot shorter despite her heels.

But however incongruous they might have looked to the outside observer, I had to admit, painful as it was that they looked good together. ‘Beauty and the Beast’ were the words that came to mind, before I told myself off for maybe an undertone of racism. But whatever I or anyone else might have thought, they didn’t care as my wife and Malcolm only had eyes for each other as their lips locked together again, this time seemingly for even longer.

You’d think I’d be used to this by now, after all, we’d been playing this game for nearly a year now. But looking at Jill and Malcolm kissing with such evident and deep desire for each other scrunched up my innards as if this was the first time I’d seen anything like this, my hands and forehead clammy with nerves and fear. There just seemed to be a certain something, a certain difference compared to what I’d seen between Jill and the other guys recently.

As they carried on kissing, arms still locked around each other in a mutual declaration of ownership, I took deep breaths to try and calm myself, trying to work out what to do. Thinking again of how much this reminded me of how Chris and Jill had looked in the early part of their affair.

I decided to head back to the lounge and pretend I’d not seen any of this, a sick little part of me wanting the pleasure of seeing how they’d react when they came out of the kitchen. Wondering whether they’d pretend nothing had happened or would be brazen and unabashed about it.

I sat back down, again and waited, my body shaking a little from nerves and anticipation, my gut sending a horribly tortured mix of hollow emptiness and butterflies up to my brain.

It seemed to take an eternity before the two of them finally rejoined me. The first thing I heard was the sound of Jill’s giggling, before she appeared through the door with very unsexy oven mitts as she carried a large soup terrine in front of her, with Malcolm just behind her ogling her swaying ass as he carried a large tray with assorted other foods and plates.

“Come on, Dave,” Malcolm’s deep bass voice commanded as the two of them passed straight through the lounge to the adjoining dining room, Malcolm’s eyes not leaving Jill’s ass for a single moment, seemingly not caring how this looked to her husband.

I had little choice but to follow them and soon found myself trying to choose a seat at a round table set for three. The whole choosing a seat thing reminding me of that horrible night Jill and I had the huge fight when I thought she’d manipulated the seating plans in our home to put herself next to Chris at a dinner party during a week she’d promised to be ‘Chris-free’. Wherever I sat I knew Jill would be next to both myself and Malcolm so in the end I just sat at the nearest seat.

Jill and Malcolm made another couple of trips back and forth to the kitchen, each time taking a little bit longer than seemed strictly necessary, and each time looking a little bit more flustered than they’d been when they last left my sight. But finally, they joined me at the table, and it was Jill who made the toast. Smiling first at me and then giving a longer smile to Malcolm. “Here’s to friends… to new friends and old friends… to new relationships and old relationships!”

As we sealed the toast with three sips of the wine, the conversation soon moved on, but my brain was left wondering what Jill had meant by her toast. My mind going back to how just two days ago Malcolm had told Jill she was special, not like the other girls who were just ‘fuck buddies’. I recalled how Jill had gently warned him off, letting him know she wasn’t looking for anything serious after the whole Chris debacle. I couldn’t help but wonder if her toast indicated she’d started to soften on this question of whether this was just a bit of fun or something deeper.

Throughout the meal, both Jill and Malcolm tried their best to make it a three-way conversation, and I did my best as well. But it was a losing battle as their friendship and mutual attraction was new and exciting and I felt like I was fighting nature itself. However great, who wants to see an old classic of a movie when there’s an exciting new Steven Spielberg showing? There were just so many little looks between them. Shared little jokes, or sentences started by one and finished by the other. Taken individually, it was bad enough. But taken together it was unnerving in what it signaled to me. Unnerving, but equally an intoxicating high that I was powerless to resist watching.

For as long as I could I kept up my end of the conversation. Even being louder and a lot more gregarious than I’d normally be, earning me a couple of quizzical looks from Jill who knew my behavior was out of sorts. But slowly as the meal progressed and the wine took effect, I quietened down and gave in to the inevitable, the conversation morphing from three friends chatting to two people spending an evening together with an occasional interjection from a third.

And as I sank into a bit of a funk as I felt more and more left out, I ended up just playing the role of passive voyeur, an acid voice in my brain saying maybe that’s all I was fit for and was what I wanted all along.

It took her a few minutes but Jill picked up on my change of mood, reaching across to Malcolm and touching his hand. “Malc, would you mind? Could you give Dave and me a few minutes?”

“Sure, darlin’. Whatever you need, I’ll be in the lounge, just come get me when you’re done,” and with that I found myself looking at his immensely broad back as he left, amongst all my angst for some reason wondering if he had to buy bespoke or was okay off the peg.

With Malcolm gone, Jill reached across the table and took my hand. “Are you okay honey?” her simple question.

I looked into her beautiful, worried eyes. “I don’t know. All of a sudden it just got a bit too much for me. Seeing you and Malcolm together, seeing the way the two of you are. The way you look at each other. It so reminds me of you and Chris, and it frightens me, babe. It really frightens me.”

Jill continued to hold my hand, looking into my eyes as she thought, her mind no doubt full of all kinds of emotions. Squeezing my hand and moving just a little closer she finally shared. “Sweetheart, I get it. I really do. I know how what happened with Chris hurt you. How it nearly broke you in two. I get it, baby, I really do,” her gaze loving and reassuring and reminding me of just how much I loved this amazing woman. “But, sweetheart, this isn’t another Chris situation. I hardly know Malcolm at all. And sure, he’s a nice guy and an attractive guy. I won’t deny it. And the sex is great, really great. But it’s just sex, and him and me… well… that’s just friendship… nothing more.”

Jill paused to give me a chance to think about what she’d said, her eyes locked on mine, making me think of all the times we’d shared and that expression about eyes being the window into the soul, thinking how Jill’s beautiful soul was full of love and concern for her insecure husband. A husband who one minute was eager and keen to play our game, the next minute anxious and needy and wanting to take his bat and ball home.

Having waited long enough for the flour to rise and the cake to bake, Jill spoke in a soft and tender voice. The type she’d used a thousand times to soothe and comfort our kids, reassuring them all was well with the world and that she’d never let anything bad happen to them. “Honey, if you’re really feeling like this, maybe we’d better go home. I hate to see you suffer like this. I’m sure Malcolm will understand.”

And there it was. Jill had made the offer, and she’d been genuine and meant it, even though I knew she was looking forward to a night of fun and more with ‘Malc’. But now, time seemed to stand still as my new life played out in that moment. The moment in front of me a microcosm for what my life had become, as slowly bit-by-bit my wife-sharing desires had grown and multiplied to a point where they were, like tonight, often in control and near impossible to resist.

Just as when I was lying next to Veronica’s warm and soft body at the weekend, I’d chosen watching Jill and Malcolm over making love to Veronica, so I now faced decision time and in my heart, I knew what I’d choose. However much I tried to kid myself I could walk away and have a normal night back home with my lovely Jill.

Jill could see me thinking and, just as she always did, she waited patiently for her often indecisive husband to work out what he wanted.

“Thanks, baby. I really appreciate everything you’ve said. I can’t imagine life without you. Thanks for being patient, coz I know it’s hard for you sometimes as well. But look, I’m feeling a lot better now. What you said has made me feel a whole better and more comfortable. It’s helped me see I’m not about to lose you to Malcolm or anyone else. So, if you want to, I’m fine that we stay.”

I noticed a little flicker of annoyance in Jill’s face, but it passed almost before I’d had a chance to notice it. Her face returning to one of caring concern. “Honey, it’s not what I want to do that’s the question here. The question is what do you want to do? Dave, you have to tell me, you can’t put this all on me, that’s not fair. What is it you want to do?”

After that flicker of annoyance, she’d been gentle about it, but she was right and I knew she was a little pissed. Loving, caring, but also a little pissed. So after another few seconds of indecision, thought, and then decision, I kissed her softly and decided to act rather than speak.

I pulled Jill to her feet and kissed her. Kissing the lips which had so recently been kissing another man during her unseen time in the kitchen. Kissing her first with the tender softness of a husband and a friend, and then with the heat and passion of a horny man who wanted excitement. As our kiss entered this second phase my shaking fingers started unbuttoning the front of Jill’s blouse, shaking with excitement as I pulled the fabric to the side to reveal those two lacy and heaving cups.

The material was so thin and delicate that I could see that Jill’s nipples were already a little swollen with excitement. As our kiss continued I reached behind her back and with a practiced hand unhooked the three little hooks from the three little eyes, taking care to place Jill’s expensive new lilac bra carefully on the dining table.

I pulled back from our kiss to look into the flushed face of my lovely wife, pleased to see that she was also now shaking with the excitement. I didn’t say a single word as I worked Jill’s skirt down until she was just standing there in her heels, hold-up stockings and lilac panties.

Jill’s shaking was getting more pronounced as I gave her a tiny kiss and left the room, heading into the lounge and grabbing a couple of sofa cushions, for once feeling like a man and in control as I grinned at our host. “We won’t be too long now,” my simple and ambiguous message to him.

Returning from the lounge I cleared the plates and our stuff to the side and placed the cushions on the table, only then taking Jill’s hand as I lead her to the table and helped her into position. Happy to see her nervous shakes and a face more flushed with excitement than when I’d left the room.

Her back was lying on the table and I took up position, standing between her parted legs, leaning over her and my face close to hers. “Well, my naughty little slutty wife. Now that we’re here, we might as well have some fun. After all, our host has gone to so much trouble, it would be rude not to give him a little thank you present, don’t you think? Sort of a nice dessert to go with the main course we just had. What do ya think, my naughty little slut?”

Jill’s chest was rising and falling with deep breaths. She was unable to summon words, her eyes looking deep into mine, telling me how excited she was and how she wanted more.

In my mind, I had the wicked smile of a Dr. No or some other arch-villain on my face, although, in reality, it was probably more an angry Elmer Fudd. But I didn’t care, I had the bit between my teeth and wanted to carry on the game, reaching to Jill’s hips and pulling the thin and delicate sides of her lilac panties slowly down her legs until they too were next to her bra on the table.

My fingers gently teased her lips and swollen little bud. “Oh my, someone is a naughty girl. All hot and flustered by our dinner table talk. I wonder what could have got my naughty little wife into such an advanced stare of excitement? Was it thinking about coffee and the cheese board? Or maybe, just maybe, knowing what a slut for black cock my formerly sweet little wife has become these last few weeks, I’d hazard a guess it wasn’t the cheeseboard at all. It was more that my little slut was thinking about a desert of big... black... cock. Sliding in and out of her tight little pussy. Stretching her nice and wide… going deeper and deeper into her little body … making her squeal and sob with delight… bringing her to cum after cum until finally, she can’t take anymore and she begs the big black cock to shoot its muck deep into her body… to put the fire out with a flood of black baby-makers…”

All the time I spoke one hand had been playing with Jill’s pussy, the other rolling at her left nipple, my eyes looking into hers as her own gaze moved from engaged and excited to dreamy and dilated. Seeing Jill’s dreamy faraway look I leaned forward and kissed her and whispered into her ear. I didn’t need to whisper, but somehow it gave it a more intimate and debauched feeling to the game we were playing.

My right hand was now two fingers deep in Jill, thrusting in and out in a way that was making Jill sigh and moan with increasing volume and tempo, all thoughts of going home now a long way back. As I worked a third, then a fourth finger in I twisted my wrist and thought how I’d never have done anything like this before our new lifestyle had kicked in. Of how Jill had always been happy with two, but how a third always brought a gentle tug on my wrist to return things to her limit.

But nowhere we were and she was taking all four fingers, lying back wantonly displayed on someone else’s dining room table as the man she loved made a point about how expanded her horizons had become – both metaphorically and physically. Those four fingers of mine, like my dick not that long, with a combined girth that was able to give Jill a good work out, thrusting in and out and stretching her just like most of the new men in her life did. I loved the way she responded to my thrusting hand, both the way she moaned and sobbed and pushed back and the way it reminded me this was the only way I could physically match what she was now used to.

I could tell Jill was getting close now, but that wasn’t part of my plan, so I slowed my arm and then gently withdrew all four fingers, smiling to myself as I saw how stretched out her love lips now were from the hand fucking I’d given her. The beautiful flower that was the opening to her pussy no longer two gently smiling and barely parted lips, but now was a red and angry gaping open mouth. Somehow the difference symbolical, what had been a mouth ready for a gentle kiss now a mouth wide open and ready to receive something much bigger and significant.

Letting the weight of my body push her down into the cushions, I kissed her top lips and whispered to her. “Did you like that? My naughty little slut.”

Her still dilated pupils and overstimulated brain did their best to respond.

“Oh yes… yes, honey, that was great… but why did you stop, baby… why did you stop… I was nearly there?” her needy voice asked.

“Because, my little slut, I didn’t want you to cum… at least, not yet… now that you know I’m the one in control… now that you know that… I intend to give you to a big black man I know… and let him pound your pussy until you squeal and sob with pleasure and he pumps you full of his spunk … until it runs down your pretty legs and stains those stockings of your… until you can’t walk straight and your pussy squelches with his mush every time you take the smallest of steps…”

I could see and hear that my wordplay was having the desired effect on Jill, now excited and on edge from the double-whammy of my withdrawn digits and the staccato drumming of what my words promised to her brain.

But I wasn’t quite ready to give her away to her lover just yet. I still had one hand to play as I gave her soft, moist lips one final kiss and then descended down her body, smiling to myself as the upward thrust of her hips told me she knew what was coming next. As my lips kissed all around the flesh of her pussy, building her up bit-by-bit until finally my tongue gently flicked at her clit. Listening to her moans and feeling her fingers in my hair as she pulled me in, now grazing her little bud with a mix of tongue and then teeth, loving the slightly troubled sound this always brought to her voice.

Unlike the day before, this time the taste was pure Jill. Not Jill with a mixer of black jizz, a side order of ‘Malc’. And as I lapped away I felt four-fifths happy at this thought, one-fifth a shaming disappointment. But I pushed these thoughts away as I concentrated on keeping Jill on the crest of the wave, being careful to never allow her the release she so desperately was looking for.

“Please… please… Dave, honey… please,” we both knew what she meant, but we both knew I’d not let her. Her begging and moaning building up until I decided enough was enough and I stopped my teasing torture. Giving her a final kiss before telling her what was what, delivered with our now customary whispered conspiracy.

“Jill, you know what? You’re a slut. I love you, baby, but you and I both know you’re a slut. A slut who can’t say no to a big cock … my sweet wife… mother of our kids has become a sweet, slutty, size queen. And because your poor husband doesn’t have a big cock, and because he loves you, he’s going to hand you over to a man who can give you what you want… give you what you need… and when he’s finished with your slutty little ass… I’m gonna take you home… fuck you some more… and then put you to bed …”

Jill’s eyes were wild with excitement, her eyes doing all the talking for her as she looked at me like a crazy woman. No, scrub that, she was looking at me like some wild animal. Some scary female saber-toothed tiger or some such. Some wild and crazy female of the species that was hell-bent on getting what they needed, and right then what they needed was cock. Cock, lots of cock. And cock of a certain dimension, and cock of a certain color. And knowing that I couldn’t give this crazy beast-woman what she craved, I smiled and went to find a man who could.

I don’t know what kind of picture I painted to Malcolm, my face wet with Jill’s juices and my hair mussed and tousled from her constant pulling at my scalp. But I guess he didn’t care.

“Malcolm, I just wanted to say thanks for the meal, and ask if you’d do me the honor. I’ve got a crazy woman through there who’s in need of some serious fucking. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I was wondering if you could give her a little something. You know, a little something to scratch the itch. To take the pain away for a while.”

I think that was the moment when the ice between Malcolm and me started to melt. To thaw a little, as we jointly conspired in the sexual gratification of the woman who’d been my wife and best friend for so many years.

The giant black man, all six-seven and three-hundred-pounds of him grinned like a child at Christmas.

“Don’t mind if I do. Don’t mind at all. Mighty decent of you, old man,” he chuckled as he gave me a slap on the shoulder that nearly sent me flying.

The game the three of us carried on playing out as Malcolm strode into the dining room and feasted his eyes on the meal laid out for him. I sensed there was going to be nothing tender or gentle about what was to follow, as he calmly started unbuckling his belt and readying himself for the job in hand, all the time talking to my beautiful near-naked wife displayed there on her back for him like some trophy of war, looking up at him through dazed but lust-filled eyes.

“Sweetheart, your loving husband here tells me that you’re a slut… a slut who needs cock… who needs big cock… big black cock… Now, baby, don’t be shy or embarrassed. This thing will go better for all of us if you’re honest with yourself… so tell me, Mrs. Foster… is your loving husband right? Are you a slut who needs my big black cock?”

Jill was still a little out of it from what I’d been doing to her for the last quarter-hour, but she just about managed to moan a semi-audible ‘I do’, which was enough for Malcolm who grinned at me, removed the last of his clothing and stepped into the place where I’d been. Standing menacing black cock in hand between Jill’s splayed and outstretched legs as she lay exposed and vulnerable on the dining room table.

I’d given Jill’s pussy such a work-out that there was no need for him to be gentle or slow. With one hand he pulled Jill’s already gaping love lips to their widest extent. With the other hand, he held his very fat nine-inch cock and sank all of it deep into Jill’s pussy in one smooth and fast stroke.

“Ohhh… fuck,” my finally fulfilled and satisfied wife cried, her long legs automatically locking around Malcolm’s ridiculously muscular body as if she was afraid someone would steal her toy away. “Shit, that feels good,” she followed up as if I was in any doubt as to how she felt about the man now deep in her body.

“Quiet, slut,” the huge black man barked out. “Ain’t no one told you to talk. You just be a good little bitch and concentrate on making my cock feel good… go on, my little slut… squeeze it down… use all those pussy muscles of yours to make your man feel good,” Malcolm ordered her, giving an extra little thrust of his pelvis to emphasize the message, making Jill wince a little from the depth of his cock in her.

“There’s a good girl… there ya go… work it, baby… work that tight little married pussy of yours… make the black man feel good… make your whitey boy husband see how much you love big black cock now… there you go… there’s a good girl,” Malcolm intoned as his muscular and huge black ass slowly started working his nine-inch black cock in and out of my quietly groaning wife. Her own hips now starting to work back and forth to keep the black man deep in her body happy as she obeyed his instructions to please him.

Malcolm’s thick black manhood was soon working in and out of Jill’s body at a steady lick, every single inch glistening with her juices as it re-emerged from her pussy only to be smoothly thrust all the way back.

Malcolm had a look of calm satisfaction on his face as he machined away at my wife’s body, her soft groans and sighs of pleasure no doubt music to his soul as he looked across at me.

“You were right Dave, this one sure is a hungry little slut. Do you think she’ll ever get enough cock? What do ya think? You know her best. Seems to me she’s just getting started. Seems to me she just wants more and more cock with every day goes by. Hell, she hardly just started working in the club and she already pulled a four-guy train. And that was just her first night! What this naughty little wife of yours gonna be like when she really hits her stride. Shit, ain’t no one gonna be safe, she gonna fuck us all dry. Ain’t gonna be a dry cock in the house.”

All the time his ass steadily moving back and forth, his thick glistening cock like some mechanical cylinder as it powered back and forth, Malcolm looking across at me as he trash-talked, ignoring my wife and just keeping her occupied with his cock ramming her pussy. The only sign of attention he gave her not to her face, not to the person, but rather to Jill ‘the body’, as his large black hands idly pulled at and tweaked her nipples as he trash-talked to me.

“What da ya say, Dave? Shall we give your slutty wife’s pussy a real work out? Shall I show her what a black man can really do? Make her forget all about that low-life in L.A. that tried to steal her away from you?” My own throat now tight as I tried to reply, the reference to Chris catching me slightly off-guard as my voice failed and I just nodded my head instead.

“Good man,” was Malcolm’s smiled response as he started to make good on his offer, taking his thick cock from Jill with a loud plop, her reddened pussy now gaping open and deep, getting her to stand on her heels before turning her around. One firm hand then on her ass as he gently pushed down on her back until her big tits were squashed down on the cushions and her ass was raised invitingly in the air.

Posed like that – black heels transitioning to long legs encased in black hold-up stockings transitioning to a shapely up-turned ass – she was every man’s fantasy. Utterly irresistible, and Malcolm was certainly not the man to resist as he thrust himself back deep into my wife’s squealing body.

“Oh fuck, easy there, Malc… you’re so fucking deep… careful please honey,” my wife asked, biting her lip from the new depths Malcolm’s big cock was reaching.

“Don’t you go being a cheeky little slut now, tellin’ me what I can and can’t do. Which parts of your ho pussy I can and can’t fuck. Your little cuck husband here gone and done give your sweet little pussy to me, so I’m gonna do just what I like with it. Okay, sugar?” he scolded Jill, although he did seem to slow a little. His use of the word ‘cuck’ to refer to me making me wince with a feeling of inner shame and embarrassment, feeling both more embarrassed and pained when said by a man rather than by Dee or Jill.

Malcolm carried on pumping away, Jill’s moans telling me how much she was enjoying it, her reddened pussy lips stretched tight in an almost seal-like shape around Malcolm’s fat black pork stick. Malcolm looked across at me, seeing me slightly blushing from his ‘cuck’ reference to me, and as if to emphasize his position of power he slapped his huge hand on Jill’s ass, first once and then a second time just for good measure. The reddening handprint on Jill’s rump showing who was in charge.

“Just so as you know whose pussy this is now, Jill. In case you had any doubts,” his face grinning as he actually looked at me rather than my wife. His grin only widening as he continued the game.

“What da ya think, Dave, man? Shall we take this little slut of yours upstairs and do some real damage? Show your slutty little wife a real good time?” He didn’t wait for an answer, he just withdrew himself from Jill’s body – winning a moan of disappointment from my suddenly empty wife – and reversed his earlier move as he turned my shaky-legged wife around so she was again facing him.

Her three-hundred-pound co-worker then picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all, held her in front of him just a few inches above his ramrod-straight cock and then carefully positioned her before weakening his arms so that gravity and all one-twenty-pounds of Jill’s weight drove his massive cock as deep as possible back into her body.

“Aaaah… ohh, fuck,” my suddenly breathless wife’s high pitched voice squealed, the only words she could manage before starting to take deep breaths to adjust to the depth of Malcolm’s intrusion into her body. She’d asked him to be careful and go a little less deep, but commonsense and physics said he must now be at least another inch or so deeper than when she’d made that request. But Jill was willingly powerless to do anything, her legs dangling off the ground, impaled as she was on her co-worker’s love spear. She couldn’t get off, there was nothing for her feet to push against, so all she could do was comfort herself with deep breaths and suck it up.

Malcolm put his hands underneath Jill’s ass and grinned across at me as he started walking towards the door, Jill groaning loudly with each step he took, each stride no doubt causing new and different feelings to her impaled pussy.

“Come on, hubby, let’s take this show on the road. Let’s head upstairs and give your pretty little wife what she came here for.”

The house now resonating with one groan from Jill for every one step from Malcolm, I followed his tight black ass up the stairs, the three of us making an Oreo in reverse. Jill’s pussy and sobs. Malcolm’s three-hundred-pounds of black muscle and cock. And me the tail-end Charlie in our little three-person convoy heading upstairs for more fun and games.

When we entered the bedroom Malcolm stood stock still, like some ebony statue with my wife's arms and legs now locked around him as she clung on for dear life.

“I thought we might have us some fun, Dave. See that little pot of lube there on the bedside table? Why don’t you lube up your cock and we can have us some DP fun? Jill tells me she’s never had a real DP. A little bit of playing and partying before, but never a real DP. Well, now she hangin’ with the brothas about time we put that right, don’t ya think? So be a good boy, lube yourself up and lay down on your back and we’ll get this game started.”

Shit! How had it come to this? How had Jill and me come to this? Less than a week before our son’s wedding and this oh-so-respectable white couple were in the home of a borderline criminal about to play three-person hide the pork-sword so that Jill was stuffed full of two male men at the same time. What would our friends and family say if they could see the depraved scene about to play out? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And the worst thing of all was that the two little flies in Malcolm’s web were both as excited as hell. Looking across at Jill, there was no doubt that she wanted this. Her eyes were blazing with energy and excitement, her cheeks more flushed than they’d been at any point this evening.

So I lubed up just as Malcolm had told me, a mental picture of the Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole opening up to reveal another five or six unseen levels of debauched inferno. But not caring a jot for the future and where we might be headed now that Luther had given us as playthings to his giant Head of Security.

Shaking like a leaf, I obediently laid down on my back and held my slim five-and-a-half inches in my hand, like a puppy dog waiting expectantly to get his chew toy. Malcolm grinning down at me as he lifted his Barbie doll up and off his fat cock, positioning her gently with the tip of her puckered ass right above my cockhead.

“There you go sweetie, time to give your hubby a little sugar, a little back-passage sugar,” and then for the first time, I started sliding my cock into Jill’s ass. Loving the feeling of her snug and tight fit as the lube helped me slip past her tight ass muscle, aware of the nervous tension in her body which contrasted with the excited look on her face.

She’d let Dee use a long thin anal dildo on her a couple of times already, and Dee had hinted at this a couple of times. And now that it was actually happening I’m sure she was relieved that it was my fun-sized cock that was probing her rear, rather than some of the other cocks she’d grown used to taking recently.

“Oh, honey… oh, baby… you feel so good on me… wow, you feel amazing… I love the feeling of you on me…” It felt amazing and wanted Jill to know, her smile back at me uniting us in another special moment.

“Don’t you two love birds get all lovey-dovey on me now, old Malcolm wants his fun now, wants his pound of flesh,” Malcolm’s deep voice suddenly reminding me that I was the junior partner in this three-way game of hide the sausage.

With Jill’s lovely soft rump pressed snug to my groin, I suddenly started feeling Malcolm’s huge black cock pushing deep into Jill’s body. Barely a second later it must have been what I was feeling nudge against my own cockhead. Not directly touching, but pushing down through the two sets of thin membranes that encased our two cocks, it was a surreal moment. Feeling my own cock next to another, much larger cock that was working alongside my own to sexually satisfy and pleasure wife.

“Oh fuck,” Jill’s strangled voice cried out through gritted teeth. “I feel so damned full… never felt like this before… shit… fuck,” Jill’s language most unusual for her, but not a bit surprising given what she was having done to her by her two dinner dates.

“Oh, baby girl, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet… you wait till it’s me in your ass and Luther’s big cock in your snatch… then you’ll know the meaning of the word ‘full’… now you and hubby just stay still and let Malcolm here work his black cock magic on you…”

And that’s exactly what Jill and I did for the next few minutes as Malcolm’s immense weight pressed down on Jill and on me through Jill, as he started slowly building up a head of steam as he sawed that huge cock of his in and out of Jill’s pussy. Each time he pushed in, my own cock experiencing the surreal feeling of another man’s cock bumping my own as he went deep within Jill’s stretched pussy.

He went on and on, fucking her like this, her legs curled around his back as their mouths joined in a non-stop passionate kiss until finally, it was too much even for Malcolm, and he cried out as he spat his scalding seed deep into Jill. Just for a moment so excited that he forgot to support his own body weight and Jill and I felt the full downward weight of his huge frame, triggering my own orgasm as Jill’s body writhed and squirmed as she enjoyed yet another climax.

***

The three of us slowly and gingerly untangled our three bodies, me being the last able to stand, looking at Malcolm’s grinning face with a dazed look.

“Shit, Dave. This gonna be some fun night.”

(Thanks to cbeaars52 for finding the time to edit and check.)