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Author's Note: The first two chapters of this story were told from the husband's perspective. This third chapter will be told from the wife's. I realize some people may not be happy with this development, but I felt it was a necessary step. Readers have smeared Maddie in most of the comments left on the prior two chapters.. I believe that there are far too many men on Literotica who are threatened by the idea that a woman can and will take responsibility for her own pleasure . It takes two to tango, as the old saying goes, and Peter was the one who instigated this dance.
And now, on to part three of our tale.
A steaming-hot cup of strong black coffee rested in my hand as I watched my husband's sleeping form in his recliner. My body needed it, as I'd barely slept a wink all night. My eyes drifted to the table beside him. A half-empty bottle of scotch sat there. It told me that my husband had also struggled to sleep.
One thought had permeated my mind all night long: I hurt the man I love. I owed it to Peter to make it up to him. I hadn't done it intentionally. I'd been so nervous about approaching that handsome black man in front of a room of people that I'd become hyper-focused on my task, and Baptiste had been such a pleasant surprise that his magnetism and charisma had overwhelmed me. I'd at once felt hypnotized, falling under his spell in the blink of an eye.
Then, there was his cock. Oh my God, that cock. There'd been a moment when we'd stood at the bar when Baptiste had taken my hand and placed it on his inner thigh. The profound tubular swelling that I'd felt there had mystified me. I'd had big cocks before. The boy who'd started my obsession with black cock in high school had been immense, and Peter himself had the thickest cock I'd ever experienced. But what I'd felt running down Baptiste's inner thigh was ungodly. I'd instantly slipped into a big-black-cock-slut frame of mind. It was almost like a fugue state where my entire world had shrunken down to the burly piece of black man-flesh that had lain between Baptiste's thighs.
And so, I'd forgotten my husband altogether. Peter had ceased to exist the moment my hand had found that cock ? a cock that he himself had brought into my life. How could I have forgotten the one man who'd made the entire night possible?
There'd been a moment when Baptiste had pressed me against that wall in our suite when I'd opened my eyes and focused on the far dark corner where I'd known my husband was sitting. The upper half of his body had been shrouded in darkness, but thankfully, there'd been ample light to see the sizeable erection tenting his trousers. That had been when, and why, I'd told myself the lie: that it would be okay to focus solely on my pleasure and think no more of my husband's happiness. I'd believed his erection was proof that he'd remained complicit in my desire.
Then the head of Baptiste's thick black abomination of a cock had parted my lips and stretched my opening until it had seemed it might split me in two. All thoughts or concerns about my husband had fled my mind as it had flooded with pure, unadulterated lust.
Standing here now, I feel ashamed that I hadn't given my husband another thought until he'd called my name during my first interlude with Baptiste. Up until that point, he'd ceased to exist in my mind. I'd been confused when he'd called a halt to things. After all, it was him who'd set the night up. I'd been discouraged by our search and had given up hope of ever finding a bull that did it for me on every level. Baptiste had seemed like he could be that bull, and my husband had stepped in to take him away from me.. Instead of trying to understand why, I'd made the biggest mistake of my adult life: I'd gotten mad.
I'd gotten mad.
I hadn't even thought twice about asking my husband to wait downstairs. It shames me now, but it's true. It wasn't until I'd heard the door to the room close behind him that what I'd done had hit me. I'd had a moment of panic and turned to go after the man I loved. But then Baptiste had grabbed me and pulled me into the shower, lifting me off the floor so that he could impale me on his magnificent cock. My concerns for Peter had lasted only until my greedy cunt had sunken down onto that majestic black rod. Then my marital problems had suddenly seemed like something that could wait an hour or two. Baptiste had given me three screaming climaxes in the shower before the water had become tepid. He'd then pumped a second load of his black seed in me, his sperm flooding against my cervix.
I'd sucked his cock back to life. Okay, factually speaking, I'd sucked the head of his cock. That was the only thing I could fit in my mouth. I'd nearly had to disarticulate my jaw to accomplish that much. Once he'd been hard, he'd flipped me over on my stomach and forcefully entered me from behind. His black anaconda had stretched me again as he'd roughly pulled my hair and spoken degrading things that had only heightened the experience. Alsancak Escort Baptiste had called me a black-cock-loving slut ? a point I couldn't dispute. He'd told me that my white married cunt belonged to him, and my God, I'd wanted it to be true. Finally, he'd informed me that he planned to impregnate me with his child, and I'd come just from the mental image. I was on the pill, so I knew it wasn't an issue, but that thought had appealed to me on a primal level that I didn't understand, and still don't.
Once Baptiste had basted my uterus with another massive load of his cum, I'd decided not to put my problems off any longer. I'd had my fun, but it had been time to pay the piper. I'd known I'd hurt Peter, but I'd genuinely believed that I'd be able to smooth things over. He was such a sweet and caring man. After using the restroom to flush out as much of my black lover's seed as possible, I'd gotten dressed. Baptiste had offered to help me find my husband and help broker peace between us, but I'd correctly sensed that doing so would create more problems than it would rectify.
That Peter would be so angry and bitter had never entered my mind, and it should have. I had failed and disappointed him. He'd been nothing but giving, often setting his pleasure aside to see that I had mine. I'd taken advantage of that, and what's worse, I was still doing it. I very much wanted to Baptiste again on Friday night and experience what only he could offer me, but I knew I would have to cancel it if I couldn't get my husband on board. There was no way that I could do that again without Peter's full consent and cooperation.
I'd gotten up that morning and called a friend, telling her that Peter and I needed a little privacy for a meaningful discussion. I'd then helped the girls get dressed and quietly slip out the door to where my friend was waiting. The three of them had gone out for breakfast, with the plan of an early matinee to follow.
"Peter?" I said, my voice cracking as I struggled to get control of my emotions. I watched him slumber on, the thick stubble of his beard covering his square jaw, his rugged handsomeness making my heart ache. I'd hoped to coax him into our bed last night so that he could reclaim me. I'd even entertained the fantasy that he'd prove his love for me by going down on me the way he'd done after all our other encounters. But he'd been cold and uncaring. The sight of it had scared me. In all our years of marriage, my husband had never elicited such feelings inside me. We'd embarked on our new lifestyle as a united front, but because of my selfishness, that front had splintered.. It was up to me to rectify the situation. "Peter?" I repeated, this time a little louder.
I watched as my husband shifted. It was the first sign he'd returned to the conscious world. His eyes fluttered, but then they lay still again. I stepped closer, close enough to reach out and touch him. I wanted to go to him and sit in his lap, hold him, and kiss his sweet lips, but I knew I couldn't do that until he invited me back in. I didn't think he was likely to do that until I could get him to forgive me.
"Honey... Peter, wake up," I said, louder but no less sweetly.
Peter's eyes opened. His hands came up to cover his them, as if the sudden inflow of light was stabbing into his brain. I couldn't remember if the bottle of scotch had been full last night. If it had been, then it would be a small wonder if he wasn't feeling its aftereffects. Peter sat forward, allowing the chair to straighten up as he lowered the legs with a groan. The sight should have been amusing, but its humor eluded me. I had driven him into that sorry state. We both shared responsibility for what how Friday night had begun, but I knew I'd crossed a line.
"There's a cold bottle of water and a couple of Tylenol on the table next to you," I said gently. Peter opened his eyes again to locate the life-giving water and medication. He said nothing. He merely scooped up the pills and popped them into his mouth. He downed the whole bottle before he would even look at me.
"Where are the girls?" he asked in a muffled voice, hoarse with sleep.
"I had Simone come by and pick them up, because I felt like we needed time alone to talk. She's taking them out for breakfast and to an early matinee."
I sat on the couch facing him and curled my legs underneath me. Peter had often said I was like a cat in how I settled onto the piece of furniture, my movements smooth and calculated. I sat there patiently as Peter gathered his mental faculties for our discussion. I'd been nervous that he would balk at the mere suggestion that there was anything left to discuss, but, to his credit, he didn't shut me down right away.
"I want to talk about what happened last night at the hotel, but first, I want to apologize to you. I should have never suggested you leave the room. I should have done as you asked."
Peter said nothing. He just looked at me with a stoic expression Alsancak Escort Bayan that said he didn't disagree with anything I was saying. I wanted him to speak ? yell at me, curse me, or even call me names. Any kind of reaction would have been better than the total lack of emotion and engagement I saw in his eyes.
"I screwed up badly," I said, tears in my eyes. "I betrayed the man I love, the man I intend to spend the rest of my life with. I'll never forgive myself for that. There's no excuse for it, and I won't bother to offer you one unless you want me to."
Peter still didn't react. He did sit forward in his recliner, his eyes never leaving me while I spoke. I almost got the sense that there was one particular thing he was waiting to hear from me. I just needed to figure out what it was.
"I know what I said about Friday night, but if you still feel strongly about us halting this hotwife thing, then that's what we'll do."
I waited, patiently watching my husband for some clue. He'd always been nearly impossible for me to read unless we were in bed. In our sex life, his behavior had always been as reliable as an atomic clock ? a good thing, in my opinion. Given what had transpired, I expected him to jump at the chance to end our extramarital sexual play. Any second, I was convinced, Peter would say the word that would forever bar me from the most electrifying sex I'd ever had.
"No."
"What?" I asked, sitting there utterly stunned at his reply. Once I'd decided to end things with Baptiste, I'd mentally prepared myself not to show the nearly overwhelming disappointment I'd known Peter's reply would bring. It wouldn't have done for my husband to have seen regret written all over my face. Instead he was seeing surprise ? a feeling I hadn't prepared to hide.
"You heard me, Maddie. No."
"But... I don't understand. I thought you would be happy."
"What, you want me to be the bad guy that puts an end to your fun, so that you can resent me later? No, I'm not going to do that. If you want to keep seeing your black boyfriend, and we both know that you do, then I'm certainly not going to stop you."
"But... but Friday night, you wanted me to stop," I said, my uncertainty at his motivations leaving me almost speechless.
"I wanted you to stop with him!" Peter yelled, finally showing some emotion as he raised his voice at me ? something he'd seldom done throughout our marriage. "I wanted you to fuck someone else, anyone else, as long as it was someone who wouldn't make you forget that I fucking existed!"
I recoiled ? not at his sudden verbal assault, but at the truth contained within it. From the first moment Baptiste's big black cock had stretched my cunt wide open until the moment we'd taken our first break, I hadn't thought of my husband. Peter had ceased to exist in my mind during that thirty to forty-five-minute period. Then I'd compounded that egregious error by suggesting my husband should leave when he'd voiced his objections.
"I said I was sorry, Peter," I begged, my cheeks flooded with tears. "Can you let me try and explain? Please!"
"You don't have to explain, Maddie. I get it. Baptiste was the best sex you've ever had." His vitriolic tone like a razor blade against my ears. "The rest of us mere mortals pale in comparison!"
"That's not true!" I cried out between sobs, my chest beginning to heave. "No... not true!"
"Well, then, I guess his magic cock must have scrambled your brain! Because it seemed to me as if it was the only thing in the world that mattered to you on Friday night!"
We both sat there, no more words passing between us, the only sounds in the room the sobs still escaping my chest. I tried my best to gain control of my emotions, my feelings giving me a challenging fight. I took a deep breath and held it, counting backwards from ten. When I reached zero, I slowly started releasing it through pursed lips. As I did, I felt myself begin to calm down. My tears slowed to a trickle, and eventually, I felt like I could continue our conversation.
But I had no idea what to say.
"I know it must have appeared that way to you," I finally managed to say, "but you and the girls are the most important people in the world to me. I can explain what happened on Friday night, but I'm not sure you'll like it."
"It can't be any worse than what was going through my mind when it was going on."
"Are you certain you want to hear it? We can end this right here and now and return to the life we shared before this all started. We had a good life. I think we can both agree that we were happy, and I can guarantee none of my married friends have anywhere close to the satisfying sex life we do together. All you have to do is say the word, and I'll never mention it again."
"You know I can't do that. I've already told you why. And plus... " Peter paused there, clearly struggling with saying something.
"Now isn't the time to hold back, honey. If we're not completely Escort Alsancak honest, then we are in trouble."
Not meeting my eyes, Peter said, "I don't want it to end. I mean, in a way, I do. But the thought of seeing you made into a slut for a big black cock still makes me so hard that it hurts."
I could see how conflicted my husband was. I could tell that he was battling his own personal demons. The fact that his kink coincided with mine was what had led us into this lifestyle, and it appeared that it was what would keep us engaged in it.
"Okay. I just want you to remember I gave you the option, because if we go on from here, from now on, we're going to do things my way."
"And what is your way?" Peter asked, suddenly looking up with concern.
"We'll discuss that later. First, we must discuss why I blanked you out of my mind on Friday night. As I said. It's probably going to be painful for you to hear. I apologize up front."
Peter sat back in his recliner, and I watched him prepare himself for what I was about to say. He gripped the arms of his recliner tightly and began to bounce his right leg up and down. It was a tic he'd always had, and it surfaced whenever he was nervous about something.
"The lovemaking you and I share is second to none, and I mean that with all my heart. But the sex I had with Baptiste was by far the hottest sex I've ever had in my life. I couldn't tell you the number of times I came on Friday night, but I can tell you none of the other men I've been with, white or black, have come close to giving me that many. And it wasn't just his big cock, although that was a large part of it. It was the entire package. It was his charm, charisma, cockiness, and good looks, along with that magnificent black cock and what it can do. As a bull, he's the total package. And from the moment he put it in me, I became cock drunk. He was all that I could see from that point forward until you called my name. And by the time you did, I was addicted to what he could do to me. Now, I was wrong to send you away. I'll regret that on my dying day. What I should have done was to make you see that he's the answer to our dreams. He fills that hole inside of me that's been awakened recently. And that can only make me a better wife and mother because I feel like a whole person again. With Baptiste in my life, that itch that's been plaguing me for the last eight months is no longer there. And without him? You're probably right. As much as I hate to admit it, eventually, I would likely start to resent you, even if only a little."
I paused there and waited for a reaction from my husband. I could see the pain in his eyes, and I didn't want to push him too far. There were still things I had yet to reveal to him about Friday night, and I knew they'd be even harder for him absorb.
"I didn't tell you everything about Friday night. You were already so angry when you finally returned to the room that I didn't want to push you over the edge. Do you think you're in control enough now to hear me out?"
"What kind of things?" Peter asked instead of answering my question.
"I told you that he asked me out for Saturday night and what the plan was. What I didn't say was that Baptiste wants to start dating me every weekend. He says that he works long hours during the week and doesn't have time for a social life. Apparently, he was as taken with me sexually as I was with him. He told me that I was the first woman in a long time that could keep up with him as a lover. That, and he thinks I'm the sexiest woman he's ever met."
Peter groaned. It was barely audible to my ears, but I didn't miss it. He shifted in his seat as if trying to get comfortable. I looked down and noticed an obvious swelling in his pajama bottoms. The sight of it filled me with relief and more than a little surprise. I'd wholly expected Peter to be angry and hurt over the fact that I'd kept such essential information from him. The fact that it had aroused him boded well for what else I'd been keeping from him, but I had no intention of sharing that part with him just then. I'd given him enough to deal with already.
"What happens when you fall for him?" Peter asked with a mixture of fear and arousal written on his face. "Am I supposed to wait here at home with our kids, wondering what you two are doing? Force me to do that, and I'll lose my mind and do something crazy."
"No, baby, no!" I cried out, dropping to my knees, my hands touching my husband's thighs. "How can you even say that, Peter? I love you and the girls with all my heart, and would never want you to suffer like that. I want you to be there with me for every second of it. It's not the same without you there. Yes, the sex is still good, but without you there to share it with me, the pleasure I feel is dull and diminished."
"I've seen how you are with him, Maddie. The more time you spend with him, the closer you will become. Then it's only a matter of time until feelings develop. Once they do, how can I ever hope to compete with him?"
"Peter, Baptiste means nothing beyond the pleasure he can give me in the bedroom. Yes, we might become closer over time, but I will never have romantic feelings for him. Never. You're it for me. You're my beginning and end."