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Irene's Blossoming

By: gggrena



1.

Everybody has fantasies, even those, like my wife, who claim they don't. I had a recurring fantasy. Many married men fantasize about other women; I fantasize about Irene, my own wife. One day, we were making love. Irene was lying in the bed, on her back, and I was between her legs, with my cock inside of her. Irene's facial expression betrayed intense pleasure. I love the sight of my wife enjoying sex. I don't know from where it came but, in the heat of the moment, I imagined a second man entering our scene and placing a big cock inside Irene's mouth. That mental image was so strong and arousing that I instantly felt on the verge of an orgasm. That might not have been the first time I imagined Irene touching another man, but that moment remains fresh in my memory to the present day.

In the beginning, it was always about a second cock in Irene's mouth whenever I was inside of her. Then, it evolved. I began fantasizing about Irene being intimate and wild with other guys, while I watched or behind my back. In my fantasy, the man was always secondary to his cock. I never imagined her with a friend of mine, a neighbor or any other real person. The man was always a shadow, an inconspicuous figure with no importance whatsoever. Only his cock, always big and impressive, had a part along with my beautiful Irene. This peculiarity would also evolve...

I remember being in my gym's locker room. I was sitting on a bench, leaning forward, looking at the floor, taking a couple of minutes of rest, after my exercise and before the shower. Suddenly, a great black shape showed up in the periphery of my vision and I instinctively looked up to see what it was. There was a black man coming out from one of the shower's stalls completely naked. He had a towel but, instead of covering his body, he was carrying it in his hand. His cockiness and exhibitionism seemed to have its origin between his legs, where hung the biggest flaccid cock I had ever seen in a locker-room. The man seemed to be paying no heed to the rest of the guys present in the room, but his nakedness and proud posture made each of us aware that he was bragging about the greatness of his cock. Nothing in this account would matter and all would have been quickly forgotten, if I hadn't seen my wife talking to that same man later.

When I left the shower stall, the exhibitionist was no longer present. I dried myself, put on my clothes and left. Irene was somewhere in the gym waiting for me, after her aerobics class. I headed for the lobby and that's where I spotted them talking. Irene seemed to know him, although I had no idea who he might be. I was walking towards them and, when I was a few feet away from Irene, she looked at me. That's when the stranger used one of the older tricks in the world. The moment my wife diverted her gaze from him, he took the opportunity to check her out, unaware that her husband was approaching.

"My husband is here," I heard Irene saying when she looked back at him. Then she added with a friendly smile, "See you tomorrow."

"Who was that?" I asked when the stranger left.

"He is a security guard in our branch office, Mr. Allen. Can you believe the coincidence?" Irene answered.

That guy and that moment naturally slipped my mind, until later in bed. I was trying to fall asleep and my mind was basically unfocused on a multitude of unrelated thoughts when one absurd idea emerged from nowhere: what if Irene was having an affair with Dwayne? It wasn't a troublesome thought and there wasn't a reason for any suspicion. In fact, a few moments later, I was fantasizing about my Irene being fucked by Dwayne's huge cock, at her work, during her working hours. That day's events merged with my fantasy and all I could think of was how close my wife had been to that hung black man.

Aroused by my own thoughts, I wanted to wake up my wife and make love with her. I wanted to tell her about Dwayne's prying gaze and shock her with the size of his cock. However, I restrained myself because I knew that it would be useless. My words wouldn't arouse her and I would end up frustrated as had happened many times before.

2.

Irene knew about my fantasy. When I told it to her for the first time, the idea unsettled her. My wife couldn't understand how I could feel aroused by the scenario of her having sex with other men. I tried to explain to her that I wasn't depreciating her, quite the opposite actually. My fantasy was about experiencing new sensations, new emotions, free from any shyness or moral constraints. For once, I desired to see her lost in the search for pleasure, with no care for morals, unstoppable, not for love but for pure lust. With time, my wife became accustomed to the idea but never fully understood it. Considering her conservative approach regarding sex, what else could I expect?

I never hoped that she would easily jump on board and say, "Let's do it!" My goal was much humbler. I was hoping that, by confessing my darkest fantasy, she could also feel free to share some of her secrets or, at least, desire to experiment more with me. Occasionally, during our intimate moments, I tried to invoke the presence of another man and get some encouraging reaction from her. Irene tolerated this behavior only to humor me but never took active part in it. She claimed that she already had all that she wanted and had no need for fantasies or new experiences. I resigned myself to this idea. Still, deep inside, I always kept a glimmer of hope that, one day, things would change somehow. 

Maybe, it was this hope that forced me to confide in her one night. We were lying in the bed, when I asked, "Have you ever fantasized about another man?"

"I already told you before, the answer is no," Irene calmly said without taking her eyes from the book she was reading.

My wife was right, she had already answered this question before, more than once, and the response had always been the same. However, I had to start from somewhere and this had been the best I had come up with at the moment.

"What do you think of Allen?" I continued.

"Who?" she said still not paying attention to me.

"The guy from the gym, in the other day."

"Oh, you mean Dwayne," she said.

Irene was already acknowledging him on a first name basis. This encouraged me to ask again, "What do you think of him?"

"He is nice," she casually said.

"Have you ever thought about having sex with him?" I dared to ask.

This time, my wife couldn't pretend to be distracted. She had to know where this conversation was leading, but, I guess, she wasn't expecting my blunt question.

Irene looked at me, clearly surprised, and said, "But he is black..."

"Is that a problem?" I inquired.

"No, but... I mean... He is good looking and there is nothing wrong with the color of his skin but... He is black..." she awkwardly replied.

Irene didn't know what to say. She didn't want to seem prejudiced but she also didn't want to encourage my ideas. Her state of confusion created the perfect moment for me to press further, "So you think he is attractive..."

"Yes..." Irene honestly said, but then she tried to lighten her answer, "Of course, he is good looking. Anyone can see that. But that doesn't mean I want to sleep with him."

"If we weren't together... If you were single and free of commitments... Would you consider dating him?"

Irene remained quiet for a few seconds. She was seriously weighing this possibility but, in the end, she chose not to answer at all.

"That's a silly question," she said and at the same time she shook her head as if she were trying to suppress from her mind any undesirable thought. "Besides, there must be lots of girls interested in him, much younger and prettier than me."

"Does that mean..."

My wife quickly interrupted me, "Let's have an end to this nonsense. We both have to work tomorrow."

In a continuous act, not open to discussion, Irene closed her book, placed it on the nightstand, and switched off her light. My provocations seemed to be annoying her more than usual.

Irene was already accustomed to my sporadic incursions, when I press her with naughty comments or intrusive questions of a sexual nature, so her answers were most often short, dull and patronizing, but this time, something had been different. Irene was more upset than usual, as if I had just touched a weak spot.

I couldn't let our conversation end like this. So I leaned over her and whispered in her ear, "Can I ask one last question?"

Irene rolled over in bed to face me and replied with a condescending tone, "Go ahead."

"Are you attracted to Dwayne?" I promptly asked, staring at her eyes and using his first name on purpose to invoke any proximity that may exist between the two. I waited for an answer but none came. Instead, Irene's face reddened. I smiled at her and said, "You're blushing."

"Oh, shut up!" my wife complained as she pushed me away and turned her back to me. However, she still had one last thing to say. With a vicious tone of voice, Irene answered an earlier question, "Yes, I would gladly date Dwayne..."

The words came out of her mouth as if she was trying to punish me for uncovering a secret she wanted hidden. But the effect was quite the opposite: I felt rewarded for my persistence.

Irene was attracted to another man. It was probably a minor and unimportant infatuation that would go away as quickly as it manifested. Still, this was a big thing for me. For the first time, I knew for sure that Irene wasn't immune to other men's charms and this had to mean she harbored secret desires, temptations, and all sort of taboo feelings that she would never admit to me, the man she loves and is married to, maybe not even to herself.

I was feeling as excited as a kid with a new toy. Her infatuation towards Dwayne might be minor and silly, but I was ready to use it for my own purposes.

3.

Strangely, after a night of planning and fantasizing, I woke up with a bitterly jealous feeling. The idea that my wife could have a hidden side was very exciting... but also quite frightening. This recent discovery about Irene forced me to question my fantasy. The idea of my wife having sex with another man was powerful and arousing in my mind, but what would I do if I had the chance to fulfill it in real time? I couldn't honestly answer this question, but I also knew that my indecision wasn't enough to forget my fantasy. 

Later at night, the anxiety forced me to go to bed earlier than usual, in hope that Irene would follow me right away. She met me a few minutes later with her book in hand. The moment she settled next to me, my hand probed inside her pajama and touched one of her boobs. My wife accepted my caress but didn't react and resumed her reading.

"Can you read while I touch your breast?" I teased.

"Yes," she shortly replied.

I removed my hand as I studied her face, trying to find any evidence of disappointment. Irene didn't flinch. Then, I slid my hand downwards, under her pajama pants. The moment it touched her labia, I asked again, "Can you still read?"

"Yes," she casually answered once again. But, this time, her legs slightly opened and allowed my fingers better access.

I was lucky. Despite her distracted behavior, Irene seemed to be in the right mood. A few seconds later, my cock was buried in her.

"Gently," she replied to my impatience.

All I wanted was to be inside of her, before I started to ask the questions, "Tell me, why do you feel so attracted by Dwayne?"

"Oh no... No... not that subject again... Don't ruin this..." my wife protested.

"I already know you're attracted to him, so don't deny it." I saw the reluctance in her face, but I knew I could always appeal to her condescending side, "Humor me, please."

There was a moment of silence. I could see the struggle in Irene. Then she said, "He is tall... He has broad shoulders..."

Irene wasn't properly answering my question. Instead she was giving an unexpressive account of his physique.

"Do you like tall men?"

"No," she said as she shook her head twice, but I didn't understand if she was answering my question or telling me to stop my enquiry.

"Is it because he is black?" I insisted.

"I don't know..." Just when I was starting to feel that I would not get anything from her, Irene surprised me, "Maybe a bit..."

Irene's answer seemed to betray much more than she intended. Instead of simple answers as in the other times I had inquired, Irene was honestly reacting to my questions. Most of all, she was admitting that the color of Dwayne's skin played a part in her attraction. I couldn't believe that my own wife had a soft spot for black men.

"Black men have big cocks," I suggested.

Irene smiled and scornfully replied, "Do you really believe that? It's a myth."

Yes, I knew that this was a myth. But in Dwayne's case, the myth met reality.

"Have you ever fantasized about his cock?" I continued.

"Of course not," she replied.

My hips were already moving for a while, but at the sound of her words, the rhythm increased. 

I leaned over my wife and placed my mouth close to her right ear. Slowly, I whispered, "Imagine your hands touching him, feeling the muscles in his arms and chest. Imagine his big hands touching your skin, your nipples, cupping your boob and squeezing it gently. Imagine your naked body pressing against his young, virile body. Imagine his lips touching..."

I wanted Irene to continue with my descriptive tale and tell me where she wanted to be touched. However, all that she gave me was the sound of her heavy breath. I looked at her eyes; they were closed.

"Are you thinking about him?" I tried.

Irene's eyes immediately opened in panic, as if my guess was truthful.

"No!" she replied.

"It's okay," I calmly said. "You can close your eyes and picture him. I don't mind."

It seemed like a vain attempt to fuel Irene's lust. The result was both surprising and beautiful. After a moment of indecision, Irene shut her eyes; she was fantasizing about Dwayne.

My mouth returned to her ear and I slowly continued, "Imagine his strong hands raising and opening your legs. His cock is hard. He has wanted to take you since the moment he first met you. Imagine the first touch of his cock. Imagine it pressing inwards. Imagine his weight on top of you. He is inside of you..."

Suddenly, Irene's arms enveloped me and her hands pressed my body against hers. In her fantasy, I didn't know if she was holding me or Allen. A couple seconds later a powerful orgasm exploded, much for my excitement.

All this time I had been taking the wrong approach. The idea of fucking another man might not mean a thing to Irene, but the idea of fucking Dwayne specifically... was a different story.

Aroused by Irene's reaction to my words, I increased the movements of my hips so that I could cum too. However, Irene pushed me away and viciously said, "I'm done with you tonight. You can finish by your own means."

Once again, this was her way of punishing me. My wife was angry with me, probably feeling guilty too. Still, my teasing had been worth it. Despite the abrupt end of our night, this felt like the most exciting thing we had ever done.

4.

I kept invoking Dwayne in most of our intimate moments for many more nights... and mornings too. With time, Irene became accustomed to it. Her reaction to my words became less evident; her discomfort and anger afterwards my fantasizing also faded. My wife was trying to go back to her old self, where my provocations could be easily dismissed. However, she never dispirited me. No matter how much she tried, I could still see the effects of my words in her: her pussy was taking less time to become wet and her arousal during penetration was much greater; also, her sexual appetite increased and her need to cum every time we had sex became more regular than before.

Then, one night, her conservative shell cracked and she openly questioned me, "Doesn't it bother you that I may be thinking about another man while we make love?"

"No. The naughtiness of it turns me on," I replied. I didn't need to ask to know the truth, but I did it anyway, "Does it turn you on to fantasize about him?"

Immediately, Irene's expression changed and I knew I wouldn't get an honest answer from her, "No. Don't you get jealous?"

"Come on. If you want me to answer your questions, you need to answer mine too."

I guess, this time, Irene really wanted to have this conversation and only needed some incentive from my part to proceed. So she said, "Yes, but imagining another man when I'm with you... it doesn't feel right."

"Why?"

"You know why."

"As long as both of us enjoy it, why shouldn't we?"

Irene didn't answer back. She seemed to be meditating about my words.

"Do you fantasize about me and Dwayne? I mean Allen... Dwayne..." she hesitated. I realized how hard this conversation was for her. Even something so insignificant, like addressing him by first name, something that she had done before under other circumstances, seemed a big deal to my wife now.

"Yes."

Slowly, the questions were coming out of her mouth as never before, "Would you like me to have sex with him? For real, I mean... I'm not saying that I would... or that I wish it... But if I wanted to, would you like it to really happen?"

The simple fact that Irene was asking me that question was already a big step. However, just as before when I asked that question of myself, I didn't know the answer. I knew for a fact how much the idea turned me on, but I didn't know if I really wanted to make it real.

Still, after all the progress I had been making at opening Irene's mind, I didn't want to sound indecisive, so I assertively said, "Yes, I would love it."

"What's the big deal? Making love with you is more than enough for me."

"I don't want you to make love. I want you to have raw sex, no love involved, only pleasure and lust," I replied. "That's why it can't be with me."

My answer seemed to scare Irene... Or maybe it impressed her. I didn't know for sure how to read her reaction.

For a moment, I thought that the conversation was over... but it wasn't. Irene seemed to have chosen that moment to release years and years of questions, "Let's just say that I would accept to do it... I'm not saying I will... because I don't want to, okay? But if I said yes, then what would happen? I'm curious. What would you do to convince Dwayne?"

I was surprised by her curiosity, but the answer was simple, "I wouldn't have to do anything. It would be all up to you."

"What?"

"You would have to seduce him."

"Me?" Irene said with a big mocking smile on her face.

"Yes."

"That's ridiculous. I wouldn't know what to do. Besides, why would he want anything to do with me, when he can have someone much younger and prettier?" said my wife with skepticism.

Irene had no idea of her sexual potential. With the right confidence and attitude, nothing could stop her. I wished she could see it for herself.

"Give him the right signs... and see for yourself."

"The right signs?" she repeated incredulous.

"Stop attending your aerobics class for a while and spend some time working out with him," I boldly said.

"Oh shut up!" my wife roughly replied.

All of a sudden Irene's curiosity turned into anger. Despite how my words may have sounded, I wasn't really asking her to do it; I just wanted to explain her how it could be done. Still, my wife no longer wanted to talk about this subject, leaving me no choice but to respect her wish.

Irene wasn't outraged by my hypothetical suggestion; she was outraged because part of her felt attracted by the idea. I didn't know this for sure, of course. But the more she exposed her dark side, the more I began understanding how her mind worked. Anyway, as unbelievable as this may have seemed before, a few days later, Irene accepted my suggestion and decided to skip her aerobics class.


Irene's Blossoming



5.

"Nothing wrong will happen," I assured her on the morning of her decision. "It will be only two acquaintances working out side by side, along with a bunch of other people."

Irene only agreed to be closer to Dwayne after some persistent convincing from my part but, beneath her reluctance, I sensed the wish to be persuaded, so I provided the excuse my wife's conscience needed: she would be only doing it for me, to please me and to enhance our intimate moments.

Irene was supposed to 'accidentally' meet Dwayne in the gym. She wanted me to be present too, but that didn't make any sense. I was already thinking far ahead. In order for Dwayne to feel free to make any move towards my wife, he should think that the coast was clear. So, when the day came, I created a last minute excuse not to be present. Irene wasn't happy.

"I don't want to be alone with him," she said to me over the phone.

"You won't be. There will be other people around you," I reminded her.

In the end, my wife didn't back out.

I wish I could be a little fly on the wall, so that I could freely watch them together but all I could do was to go home and fantasize about what could happen. I imagined Allen teaching Irene how to correctly use the training equipment: his eyes admiring her figure and taking her clothes off, one piece at a time; his hands boldly roaming along her body, correcting her posture and feeling her feminine curves. How would Irene feel? Would she feel uncomfortable and disrespected or excited and drawn to him?

When my wife finally got home, I was anxious to know what had happened.

"Nothing happened," Irene said. "He politely came to me. We chatted for about five minutes and then we both went our separate way. What were you expecting?"

In the next few weeks, my wife maintained her new workout schedule but I saw no changes in her. My fantasy had been anticipating unrealistic scenarios that reality couldn't match. Irene's question was pertinent: what could I possibly expect from it? 

Then one day, an ordinary weekday like many others, I was sitting on the couch, watching the TV news when Irene came from the kitchen and stood in front of me blocking my view. She seemed to want something from me. Unexpectedly, she knelt in front of me, between my legs, lowered my pants and underwear and put my cock in her mouth. I was in shock... Irene wasn't a fan of oral sex. She had done it to me in the past but always to indulge my requests and never out of her own initiative. This time, I didn't even have to mention it; she was willingly massaging my cock to full erection with her lips and tongue. I just sat there, speechless, enjoying that unique moment as if it were the first time I was experiencing a blowjob. In a way, it really felt like a first time, because Irene was licking and feeling my cock in her mouth with unseen passion. I was in heaven. Part of me wanted that moment to last forever, but I had to take advantage of her sudden enthusiasm and go a little further.

I stopped her and invited her to climb onto the couch. Irene thought I was preparing myself to penetrate her, but I had another idea in mind: I wanted to eat her pussy.

When my wife realized my intentions, she locked her legs and said, "No... I don't want that... I want you inside of me..."

Irene wasn't a fan of any kind of oral sex. Still, when we were younger, before our marriage, I had convinced her to let me lick her pussy a couple of times and I remember her enjoying it. Meanwhile, I don't know why, she became more resistant to the idea. Irene claimed that she preferred for me to penetrate her and that she had no need for anything else.

However, this time, I wasn't willing to give in to her objections. I gently forced her legs open and plunged my face into her wet pussy. My wife's stubborn resistance ended the moment my mouth touched her. My lips probed inside her labia and I found the abundant presence of her arousing fluids. Only then I realized how much I had been missing that flavor.

Irene came a few minutes later. Her arms were hugging her body tightly as if she were protecting herself from being violated but her mouth was open wide as if a silent scream was being released. 

When her body relaxed, I sat by her side and waited a couple of minutes before asking, "What was that?"

"What?" she replied in bad mood, as if she were being disturbed.

"Why did you attack me like that?"

"I don't know..."

"Were you horny?"

"Yes..." my wife confessed with a more calm tone of voice. "I don't know why... but I felt this strong desire to do it..."

I didn't know if she was already regretting her decision but, from my part, there were no complaints. My cock was still hard, begging for attention. I held it and slowly stroke it while we were talking.

"Did something happen today in the gym?"

I had the feeling that Dwayne might have something to do with my wife's unexpected impulse.

"No..." Irene awkwardly replied. "What could have happened?"

"Did Dwayne try something? Did he touch you?"

"Of course not!" she protested.

"Then how did he turn you on?"

A moment of silence followed my question and I realized that, this time, I was asking the right question.

"Lately we have been closer. He has been helping me using the training equipment. Looks like that I've been doing it all wrong." 

I nodded to my wife for her to proceed. This is what I had been expecting to hear right from the beginning. Slowly, as if she were trying to feel her ground, Irene continued, "He has been a gentleman... The problem is in me. I can't stop thinking about sex and your stupid fantasy when I'm near him."

"Keep going..." I encouraged her.

"I can't stop looking at him... at his body. And, when I sense him staring at me, I feel like a silly teenager. Even the smell of his sweat turns me on."

Irene was finishing these words when she realized that I had been touching myself while she was talking. This enraged her and she violently said, "This is your entire fault!"

Yes, the fault was mine. Thanks to me, the minor and temporary infatuation she had experienced in the beginning had evolved into a strong sexual attraction. That had been my plan all along. My wife's sudden sexual explosion was the result of the growing sexual tension between her and Dwayne in the last few weeks.

"And today he asked me if I would join him for a cup of coffee after our workout," Irene continued. There was a long moment of silence. My wife seemed to be expecting some sort of reaction from my part, but I quietly waited for the continuation of her account. "When I refused, he asked me if I wanted to go out with him one of these days."

Gentleman or not, Dwayne knew how to make his move.

This time, I couldn't contain myself, "What did you answer?"

"What did I answer?!" Irene repeated in disbelief. My wife seemed to be on the verge of a meltdown. "I'm a married woman. This can't be happening... He probably noticed my silly behavior. He thinks that I'm after him."

"Are you?" I provoked.

For a moment I thought that she was going to throw the nearest object at my head. But then Irene quieted herself, a false calm; she covered her nakedness and left the room in silence. We didn't speak to each other for the rest of the day.

6.

Next morning, Irene behaved as if nothing had happened. I tried to talk with her but she didn't want to partake in any more conversations about Dwayne. I respected her decision and decided to give her a break. One moment I had a conservative wife not willing to do any sexual experimentation with me, the next moment, she was willingly spending time with a man to whom she felt attracted. Everything was happening fast, so a small break was, probably, not a bad idea. Nevertheless, as the days went by, Irene kept meeting Allen in the gym...

We didn't talk about Dwayne for exactly one week. That day, when I opened the door of our apartment, I found my wife nervously expecting me inside. The door wasn't closed yet and Irene was already all over me. Less than a minute later and we were having wild, enthusiastic sex in our bed. 

After we were both satiated, Irene decided to speak about our recent transgressions once again, "This can't go on. I never wanted any of this."

"The sex?"

"No! Dwayne and I... I can't keep feeding this attraction."

"What were you expecting to happen when I asked you to workout with him?" I confronted her.

"I don't know..." Irene answered in dismay.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to. But I like it as it is."

Irene shook her head as if I was missing the point.

"Don't you get it? I... really... want... him!" my wife stressed with all her will. "That's why I can keep seeing him."

The bluntness of her confession stunned me. For the first time, my wife was expressing in words how much she desired Dwayne. One push on my part and Irene would succumb to my wishes, whatever they would be. I had to make up my mind. Did I really want my wife to fuck Dwayne?

After our conversation, it was decided that Irene would keep her meetings with Dwayne. Her earlier moment of frailty was put aside and she showed me a renewed determination to resist Dwayne's advances. This was as far as she was willing to go. I accepted her decision but, deep inside, I was beginning to doubt the strength of her resolution.

In the next few weeks, I slowly watched my wife change. She learned how to handle the sexual tension and accept the lust inside of her. We kept using Dwayne to spice our intimate moments but her sexual outbursts disappeared.

One day, she told me, "Today, we had a cup of coffee together in the gym's snack bar." Irene's tone was casual, but I noticed a hint of caution, as if she was apprehensive with my reaction. Then she added, "There is nothing wrong with a cup of coffee with a friend, right?"

Who was she trying to reassure: herself or me? I couldn't help myself from feeling surprised, but I did my best to not to show it. 

"Of course there isn't," I reassured her.

Soon, their coffee meetings after exercise became regular and began occurring also outside the gym. Slowly, Irene was taking her relationship with Dwayne a little further and letting me know of it. Every gym day, I would arrive home hoping to hear a new detail: their first lunch break together; her first ride home with Dwayne; how they exchanged phone numbers...

No matter how much enjoyment I was getting from our little game, I needed more. I needed to see them with my own eyes. So, one day, I decided to spy on my wife with her black friend without their knowledge...

7.

I strategically parked my car so that I could perfectly see the gym's entrance without being spotted. Then I waited. Fifteen minutes later, I spotted my wife and Dwayne leaving the premises side by side. Fortunately, they weren't heading for their cars. Instead, they walked to the nearest coffee shop and I followed them at a safe distance. Not far, across the road, there was also a pastry shop. So, I walked in there, quickly ordered something, took a table inside and waited, while they were still inside. A few seconds later, they left their shop carrying a tray and occupied a table outside.

I couldn't hear them nor see their facial expressions in detail, but from where I was standing I could observe them in safety. Somehow, I was expecting to see in Irene the silly teenager she had mentioned in the past, cornered by Dwayne's presence. Instead, I saw a confident woman talking with a peer. There was an evident proximity between them, one we usually only have with close friends or relatives. As it had happened before, I felt jealousy growing inside me and, with it, also a profound excitement. I wished it was dark already. I wished there was a dim alley nearby where Dwayne could take my wife afterwards and fuck her hard against a building wall, while I observed everything from afar. Then I imagined Irene confessing to me how she had succumbed to his charms. My imagination was out of the rails: jealousy was the most powerful aphrodisiac.

Ten minutes later, Dwayne escorted my wife to her car. During their meeting, I didn't notice any physical contact between the two, but that was about to change...

On the moment of parting, instead of a simple goodbye or a handshake, Dwayne leaned to Irene and kissed her on the cheek. The action seemed to be happening in slow motion. In fact, it was more than a feeling. The entire gesture developed in a purposely slow fashion, as if both of them pretended to delay the moment as long as they could. Irene accepted his kiss and she smiled when their stares met once again. At that moment, jealousy peaked in me... They were silently flirting with each other. At the least, Irene was flirting.

I intended to leave before Irene, so that I could arrive home first, but that moment paralyzed me. For a couple of minutes I kept quiet, inside my car, reliving the moment over and over again. Only then I left.

I desperately desired to arrive home so that I could fuck my wife fast and hard. And that's what happened. Irene welcomed my unexpected enthusiasm as I had welcomed hers in the past. Only when I was too worn-out to continue, we shared words.

"Is everything alright?" Irene asked.

"Yes," I replied. "Is everything alright with you too?"

"Yes," she naturally said.

"Did anything happen today?"

"No," Irene answered. But then she realized what I meant and adjusted her response, "Today, I had coffee with Dwayne... as we occasionally do."

There was no reference to the kiss. Maybe I was giving too much importance to that kiss, but that was exactly the kind of details I wished from her.

"Today, I also have something to tell," I mysteriously said.

"What?" Irene replied with apprehension.

"I saw you with Dwayne."

"Where?" she nervously asked.

"From the time you left the gym until the moment you went separate ways."

"Were you spying on us?"

"Yes," I admitted.

Irene quickly got up as if she didn't want to share a bed with me for the rest of the conversation. Her face was a mirror of all kinds of inner emotions.

"Why did you do that?"

"I had to see you. I couldn't resist."

"I'm not comfortable with that. You should have told me," Irene accused.

Yes, I should have told her. But I wished to see her in her usual environment. If she knew I was there, everything would be different. I explained this to her and her anger lessened, but shame and fear remained.

Irene told me that she felt like a different woman when she was with Dwayne, maybe a necessary rationalization on her part to help her deal with the situation. But what surprised me the most was the implied fear in her words and reaction. No matter how many times I had told it to her before, she still didn't understand how my fantasy worked in my mind.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked, at one point.

How could my wife ask me that? 

"No! I..." I replied. I wanted to tell her how much I had enjoyed seeing her, but no words could describe it.

"Weren't you jealous?" Irene asked incredulous.

"Oh, yes... I was jealous... You can't imagine how much..." I honestly said. "It was amazing."

My wife looked at me as if I wasn't making sense. I guess someone would have to feel what I felt to understand it.

"Did you like it?" she tried.

"Oh yes... You were gorgeous... fantastic..."

"You're crazy," Irene said as she smiled; a confused but honest smile. Despite some signs of reluctance, my enthusiasm was infecting her.

"Does he still keep inviting you to go out with him?" I asked, dramatically changing the direction of the conversation. In the heat of the moment, I was about to take our game even further without thinking about the consequences.

"Yes..."

"Have dinner with him."

Irene looked at me in awe.

"I can't... He will get the wrong idea..."

"Let him get the wrong idea," I promptly replied. I was expecting some reluctance from her part, but no words were coming from her open mouth. "Will you do it?"

After a long moment of silence, Irene finally answered, "Okay... Just dinner and nothing more."

I never thought my wife would agree so easily.

"Just dinner... nothing more," I agreed.

A week later, Irene had progresses to declare: their date had been scheduled for the following Saturday evening.

8.

I guess part of me was in denial those days before Saturday. Somehow, I was expecting Irene to back out in the last moment or to confess that there wasn't any date at all. This feeling was also justified by Irene's behavior: I couldn't see any unrest or excitement, reluctance or enthusiasm in her. She was behaving as if nothing special was about to happen.

Only when I saw my wife all dressed up and ready to leave, I was sure of what was about to happen. Part of me wanted to ask her to stay and cancel her meeting with Dwayne; but most of all I felt aroused by the moment. Irene wasn't wearing any special clothes, make-up or perfume, only one of her usual evening dresses. However, in my mind, she seemed hotter than ever.

"Do I look good?" Irene asked. Her question was plain and simple, but also seemed to imply much more. I felt as if she was asking me if I was sure about all that. 

"Yes," I replied trying to sound resolute.

Irene didn't say anything else; we kissed and she left.

From inside our apartment, I watched her enter the taxi that would take her to the restaurant. Only then, the numbness that had surrounded me in the previous days left me for good. I realized that I didn't have a reason for allowing my wife to go to that dinner. What did I mean to accomplish with this new step? Her recent intimacy with Dwayne, as it was, was enough to ignite our imagination and passion. Irene was already more open to experimentation in our sexual interactions than ever before in our marital relationship. What else could I want? Unless... The key question was still to be answered: do I really want my wife to have sex with Dwayne?

I wanted to ask about what Irene was feeling and what her plans were, but I didn't. I didn't want to pressure her. Somehow, not knowing beforehand seemed like a good idea. I was in her hands and it felt tremendously exciting. I was sure of one thing though: no matter what would happen that night, I wanted it to be Irene's decision. However, I couldn't stay home, waiting; I had to see them with my own eyes. So I grabbed my car keys and left to again spy on my wife.

Fortunately, I knew where the restaurant was. Irene had told me the address herself, just in case, although I didn't know what 'just in case' was supposed to mean. It was located conveniently out of town, so that no known eyes could catch them together. Also, after my stunt a few days earlier, I was expecting her to plainly ask me if I intended to spy upon her once more. Her silence about this matter felt like an encouragement for me to follow her... or maybe this was the way I had to justify my behavior.

When I got to the restaurant, I immediately realized that there was no way for me to observe them from the outside and entering the premises was out of the question. I had no plan, no idea of what to look for or expect, so I was left with no choice but to wait outside, hidden in my car.

I parked my vehicle on the far side of the parking lot, where it was darker and away from the other cars. From there, I had a good view of both the parking lot and the restaurant door, without being too exposed. Then I waited and it felt like an eternity. 

As expected in a place like that, there were always people coming and going. Other cars occupied some of the empty parking spaces close to mine, concealing me even more, but there was no sight of Irene. Without anything else to occupy it, my mind began producing reasons for worrying. What if they weren't there? What if that was the wrong restaurant or they had changed their minds and left to somewhere else before my arrival? Worse than being caught spying them was the possibility of being there for nothing so, I began considering my options. One of them was getting inside the premises: maybe by disguising myself or maybe by trying to enter through the service door in the back... Fortunately, much to my relief and before I did something stupid, Irene appeared at the door. They were leaving.




Irene's Blossoming



That moment of relief was quickly replaced by more worrying. Now, that they were in my sight, the idea of being caught spying on them didn't seem as unimportant as before.

I sank in my seat and observed them walking towards his car. It was located halfway across the parking lot, in the opposite row from where I was sitting. They got in the vehicle and then, without seemingly hesitating, as if they had it all planned, they kissed. From where I was standing all I could see were two silhouettes blending, but I knew that it wasn't a kiss on the cheek as I had seen a few days ago. Irene was allowing her date's tongue to explore her, I was sure of it. It seemed all so simple and easy, maybe too easy. Who knows if that was their first kiss? Who knows what else my wife has been doing with him without telling me? I felt the jealousy inside of me but I wasn't mad. In fact, I realized that I was cheering for him. I wanted him to break the last efforts of resistance of my wife. Then, they broke contact and I could see, once again, two distinct silhouettes inside the car.

For a while they talked, nothing more. They chatted for a long time. People were leaving the restaurant and emptying the parking lot. I was nervous with the idea of becoming too exposed. Slowly, I also began noticing what appeared to be signs of agitation on Irene's part. She seemed to be constantly looking around and moving over her seat. One suspicion came to my mind: was she looking for me? Did she know that I was watching her? I sank even more in my seat, a self-preservation reaction. If she knew I was there, then that earlier kiss might have been a way to tease me. In that case, it meant that Irene was playing the game fully aware of its rules. I was in her hands. However, despite my aroused thoughts, nothing had prepared me for what was about to happen. At least, not on their first date...

Once again, their bodies moved closer to each other and they were kissing. It lasted only a few seconds. Then, Irene took one last glance around, her silhouette leaned towards her male date and her shadow completely disappeared from within the car. I could no longer see Irene, at all. For a moment I was in denial; I thought she was after something that might have fallen on the floor, but there was really only one plausible explanation for what I was, or rather wasn't, seeing. He leaned backwards in his seat and I imagined his eyes shutting in pleasure as my wife took his huge black cock in her mouth for the first time.

Back and forth, my mind shifted from a state of denial to amazement. Stunned by the moment, I looked around as if it wasn't possible to be the unique witness of that incredible moment. Irene, my wife, was giving head to a black guy in a parking lot. Reality was emulating my most audacious fantasies. Was that really my wife and not just a lookalike? Where was her shyness?

I had never told Irene what I knew about his huge cock. Many times I felt tempted, but I had always imagined her in awe and delight the moment she realized it for the first time. I didn't want to take from her that astonishing moment, even in the beginning when my fantasy seemed completely impossible. That big black cock was my present to her, my best present ever. A gift she was unwrapping at that moment.

After a minute or so, that felt like a lifetime, I saw Irene's shadow re-emerge; the car started and they left at last.

I should have followed them right away, but I didn't. I was frozen, still concealing myself in my seat, trying to fathom the meaning of that moment with my cock swollen inside my pants to the point of almost being painful. When I finally reacted, it was too late and there was no sign of them.

When I arrived home, I was prepared to see Irene waiting for me, but she wasn't there. Her date wasn't over yet. So I waited.

9.

I was waiting for my wife to come home, knowing that she was on a date with another man. It wasn't a dream or a fantasy any longer; I was living it. Who knew what they could be doing at that very moment? Now that Irene's innocence had been lost, everything was possible. As far as I knew that black, hung guy could be fucking my lovely Irene at that exact moment, giving her what she never had and making her feel what she had never felt before. Would she think of me then? Would she remember me? 

There was noise outside; I thought it could be she... but it wasn't. I was dying in anticipation for the moment my sweet wife would cross our apartment's door. Would I see a new glow in her eyes when she got home? From that day, I could never again say my wife was conservative. Would she hide from me what had happened in the parking lot, like a cheating wife? Would she be naughty and openly detail her date to me? Would she tease me?

I heard noise outside again, this time followed by the sound of the lock of our apartment's door. My wife was back. I didn't want to look too eager, so I waited for her to come to me.

"How did it go?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"It went well," Irene cautiously replied.

I searched in her hair, her make-up and her dress for any sign of mischief. Everything seemed in order. I approached her and kissed her as we use to do when one of us arrives home. Her body felt unusually stiff. Was she trying to judge what was on my mind as I was doing with her? Was she afraid?

"Did you go somewhere else after dinner?" I asked. It was almost midnight.

"We took a walk afterwards."

Only a walk, I wondered?

"Did he give you a ride back home?"

"Yes," she casually said.

Irene wasn't giving me anything, so I let her take a shower and waited for her in bed. Her plain answers were making me question what I thought I already knew.

Only, when we were both lying together, did she begin talking.

"I don't know how to say this..." Irene began. There was a moment of silence, as if she was expecting me to make it easy for her. "Something happened... Something more than dinner, or coffee or taking a walk... I pleased him with my mouth."

Irene's last words came out in a rush, as if she had decided it was best to face my reaction as quickly as possible. Her eyes were set on me, waiting, pleading for a response, any kind of response.

I didn't know what to say. Her bluntness and sincerity had both disarmed and aroused me. So, I bent over her, gently secured her head with my hands and kissed her, this time much more passionately. My hard penis was pressing against her thigh. This was my way of showing her my consent. And it was enough for her...

Suddenly, all her anxiety and nerves poured out in a stream of words, "I can't believe I did it. I never thought... I left home sure that nothing would happen. Everything was under control... then he kissed me in the car and put my hand inside his pants... I didn't reject him... I knew what he wanted from me... Before I knew it, he was pulling it out and saying, 'Suck my cock, Irene.' Those words... I couldn't believe he was saying those words to me. He meant it! So I did it!"

Then, my wife stopped, seemingly tired, as if saying those words had been a giant task. Again, she was waiting for some reaction from me, but this time her mood seemed different. Irene still seemed anxious, but no longer due to fear or doubt. I was trapped inside her words and she could feel it.

"Is it over?" I asked.

"No," Irene said lightly. Her assuredness was growing fast. "We went to his apartment."

"Yes," I said in approval.

I instinctively reached for her pussy and gently rubbed it over her pajama. Irene moved my hand away and showed me some discomfort. Then she said, "He is big. You won't believe how big and thick he is. It's unbelievable. I never thought..." Words were coming out of her mouth with growing enthusiasm and then abruptly stopped.

I teased her, "I told you before. Black guys have big cocks."

Irene didn't bother contradicting me, "Oh, he is big alright. Huge! I never thought they could be so big."

My wife was showing awe, amazement and joy, all at once. Now she knew what is out there. I wouldn't give her to just anyone. Irene is special, so she deserved something special too.

"Did you fuck him?" I asked to my wife.

"Oh yes," she confessed with pride.

"Irene..."

"Yes..."

I couldn't hold myself any longer, "Suck my cock, Irene."

My wife smiled due to the reference to her episode with her lover. Her expression was showing pure delight. I had never talked like that to my wife. But now, I was sure that she was ready to appreciate it. And she was, indeed. Irene positioned herself and exposed my hard penis. For a moment, she just stared as if she was trying to comprehend how her black lover could have so much when I had so little. Now she knew what is out there. I felt as if I had never been nude in front of her.

"Is it small?" I asked trying to lead her to say what was on her mind.

"Yes," Irene replied smiling. "But I love you."

Then she took my penis in her mouth and she serviced me willingly. It didn't take long for me to ejaculate. My cum fell on my belly, much to my disappointment. I wanted Irene to take it in her mouth, but I needed it to be out of her initiative. She wasn't ready, yet.

There were no more questions, no more words that night. We cuddled and fell asleep together.

Next morning, I woke up feeling my wife agitated in bed. Irene was holding her cell phone in her hand as if something bad had happened.

"He sent me a text message," she said.

"What does it say?"

"He wants to be with me again," Irene said in distress. "What do I do?"

I was surprised by her reaction. Then I realized that, in her mind, her sexual encounter had been nothing more than a one-night stand, something to remember forever but never to repeat.

"Do you want to be with him again?" I confronted her.

No matter what she thought would happen afterwards, Irene knew too well what she desired.

"Yes, I want to be Dwayne's secret girlfriend," she said.

I didn't answer. I didn't need to. Irene wouldn't be as clear if she didn't know I would grant her wish.

10.

The old Irene was gone. My wife no longer repressed her fantasies and desires, resigned to do what society expected from her. On the outside, she was still a respectful, modest woman. But secretly, she was enjoying black cock from a younger man. And I was her cuckolded husband, happy with the wife I had.

For the first time, Irene was indeed in charge. Sometimes, I still sensed a small spark of doubt or indecision in her. In those cases, I subtly intervened, not making her mind up for her in this or that way, but assuring her that I wanted her to make her own choices. Irene learned fast. So, occasionally, whenever they wished and found themselves in the mood, my wife and her lover met in private to materialize their sexual relationship. We didn't know how long this adventure would last: maybe a few encounters, maybe more... That wasn't important.

Her lover didn't know of our arrangement. He must have thought that I was a wimp, not competent enough to prevent my wife from screwing around behind my back. Little did he know that I knew all about their trysts and that, in fact, Irene was deceiving him and we were using him, much like he was using her. This deception was the price he had to pay to fuck my Irene.

Slowly, we adjusted our sex life to the new reality. Rituals were created.

Watching my wife getting dressed for her dates was one of those rituals. Irene's lingerie evolved, reflecting the changes inside of her, and became much more sexy and suggestive. However, she always saved the initial exhibition of these new intimate garments for her secret dates with Dwayne.

"I bought this for my boyfriend. Do you like it?" she used to say while she was dressing for her date.

Irene took special pride in using the word 'boyfriend', probably because of the "forbidden fruit" nature of the term. 

"I love it," I always replied.

Then, Irene used to stimulate my jealousy by saying as she looked approvingly at herself in the mirror, "I can't wait to see the look on his face when he sees it."

It was all about him and not me.

On another day, also before one of their meetings, Irene showed me her freshly shaved pussy. This was a nice surprise. She used to tend her pubic hair, but she had never shaved it bare.

"My boyfriend said he likes it this way. He asked me to try it for him," Irene teased. All I waited was to lay her in bed and feel her smooth skin against my face as I licked her. I tried to do it, but she didn't let me. "No. This is for him. You can feel it tomorrow," she playfully said.

Often, Irene laughed after these little games of ours, expressing the enjoyment that she felt with them.

Later, after arriving home, my wife always took a shower before meeting me in our bed. Then, she shared some of the details of her dates. Her comments were never an objective account of what had happened. I realized that not knowing everything was often much more exciting for me. Instead, Irene enjoyed toying with my jealousy and the strong arousing effect it had in me.

"Today, he asked me to dance for him... like a real stripper," Irene said once.

I wanted her to dance for me too, but I it would be pointless to ask. At those moments, she never complied with my requests. I couldn't touch her pussy. I couldn't fuck my own wife after her dates. That was the price I had to pay for sharing Irene with such a hung guy. But I knew, if I were patient, that she would reward me later, sometimes when I least expected.

"You do realize I have a boyfriend, don't you?" Irene teased me in another occasion. "He is so manly and strong. He is having sex with me... your wife. Aren't you jealous?"

"Yes," I answered in awe; a pointless response because she knew quite well what I felt.

"I danced for him. Then he fucked me," my wife said. "I had his cock in me. Whenever I have him inside of me I feel so full and stretched. I love the sensation!" Her hand touched her pussy over her pajama and she continued, "I can still feel him inside... I never thought they could be so big and thick. But he is so patient and amazing... and it feels so good... I'm so lucky..."

Now, Irene knew what was out there. I could be the best husband in the world, but I could never match her boyfriend in bed. Now she had someone else to equate me with and the comparison wasn't kind to me. Now she knew how small her husband was. For the first time, Irene knew me altogether. And, if I couldn't give her what she deserved, then she knew that she was allowed to search for it elsewhere.

"Is he better than me?" I asked. I wanted to know how confident and bold my wife had become and how honest she dared to be.

For a moment Irene stood silent, pondering about her answer or trying to read my mind. Then, she replied without wavering, "I love you so much... but I wouldn't have a boyfriend if he wasn't much better..." Then, Irene winked at me, lessening some of the cruelty of her words.

Hearing my wife describe how good she felt was extraordinary. I thrived upon her enthusiasm and genuinely desired her to have the best experience possible. Her pleasure was my pleasure, even if she was getting it from another man.

"Do you ever think of me when you're with him?" I dared to ask once more.

"Sometimes..." she teased me. Then, not content with our current tone of conversation, Irene whispered in my ear, "But when he lifts me in the air with his strong arms and his cock is inside of me, I feel him and only him. At those times, he is my man."

My wife's words were outrageous but I knew she meant them, all of them; never before she had said so much with so few words.

That night, before falling asleep, Irene added one last thing, "I just wish you could see me."

Yes, I desperately wanted to see her too. I had committed myself not to try to persuade my wife and let her have her own choices, but this new desire was too strong to contain. So, one day, I asked her to have one of her secret meetings in our apartment.

"What about you?" Irene replied showing some distress.

"I'll be hidden."

"I don't know if that's a good idea..." she said. There was reluctance in her eyes. My wife knew perfectly what I was looking for: an opportunity to watch her with my own eyes.

"Bring him to our bed," I dared to say.

For a moment, there was a glitter of enthusiasm in her eyes. She was attracted to the naughtiness of it.

"What would I say to him?" she asked and I instantly knew that she would do it.

"Tell him that I'm away on a business trip. Tell him it's safe."

"I'll tell him that I want him in my bed..." Irene said in her playful tone.

"Yes..."

If there was still any reluctance in Irene from then on, she masked it too well. Our adventure was taking a new step.

11.

Irene wanted to lock me in the second bedroom so that her lover couldn't catch me in the apartment. I couldn't agree with that, of course. In addition to changing the sheets and hiding all the signs of my presence there, Irene's behavior on the day of her date was much more modest. There was a different kind of tension in the air this time.

That late afternoon, when she left for her date with her lover, Irene switched off the lights and left me behind in the dark. Then, I placed myself by the window and saw my wife enter her boyfriend's car. It would be less dangerous if they didn't meet outside our building, but I trusted Irene's discretion. Besides, she enjoyed playing the unfaithful wife part.

We had it all planned, nothing could go wrong. However, I had a small surprise for Irene, something that I had planned without her knowledge. I fetched a package I had concealed from her. Inside, there was a full-length mirror, which I purposely placed in our bedroom, facing the bed sideways.

The initial idea came to me a couple of days before. I knew that Irene and I wouldn't have the chance to communicate with each other. So, I had the idea of a mirror, a big mirror, where she could watch herself with her lover. That way, she would be able to see what I was seeing and maybe realize what I may be feeling. I didn't know if all of this would make any sense later... but it wouldn't hurt either. So I went forward with the idea.

Then, I waited, in the dark, by the window, a torturous wait. Jealousy and anxiety were high... as was also my arousal.

My excitement peaked when I noticed their car approaching outside, it manifested itself as a mix of the earlier arousal accompanied by fear. I headed for my hiding place and waited a while longer. The door opened. There were voices. They were inside. The dark surrounding me was disturbed by light coming from one of the other rooms. For a while, the silence was only interrupted by indistinct sounds. They were faint but I could feel they were coming from closer and closer. Then, there was a long period of silence, broken by low voices that seemed to come from our bedroom. Irene had taken her boyfriend there, our intimate place, our sanctuary, just like we had planned. They were probably getting comfortable in the bed where we sleep every night.

I wanted to leave my dark corner and peek outside. But the fear of being caught was too strong. I had to use my head and be patient. So, I waited... I don't know for how long. Troubled thoughts haunted me. Something was happening between my wife and the black man, I was sure of it. But I was missing it. All that plan and wait would be pointless because I was missing it all. Then, I heard a moan, a female moan. This time, it wasn't an indistinct sound. It was a perfectly clear moan. I couldn't wait any longer. So I stepped out of my hideout.

In bare feet, I cautiously walked to the door of my room and peeked outside. Everything was dark, except the light coming from the bedroom where Irene and her companion were supposed to be. I could hear sounds coming from there. They were both there, I was sure of it. Their door was slightly ajar, allowing me to approach their room without being seen. The dark surrounding me would conceal me from their light accustomed eyes, as long as I wasn't too greedy and went too close. A second moan coming from my wife encouraged me to proceed. So, carefully, I looked inside.




Irene's Blossoming



The first impression was a tremendous disappointment. The gap was too small. Only a small part of the bed could be seen. Irene was out of my sight. A third moan sounded. I couldn't see her but they were somewhere on the bed. I had no choice but to wait for them to move and hope for the best.

Following the last moan, a new voice was heard. This time, it was a male voice, "You like this, don't you? You like black cock."

"Yes..." Irene answered.

I felt desperate. My wife and another man were having sex in the room next to me. It was happening a few feet away but I couldn't see anything.

"Ah, your pussy feels good baby," the manly voice gladly expressed.

Irene didn't answer back, but a new moan came from her. All I had from her were those occasional sounds and I appreciated them as precious gifts. I had never realized how hot her voice could sound, maybe because I had never paid enough attention or maybe because I had never made her feel as that man was making her feel. It was the sound of pure lust unleashed.

Then, I was lucky. With a few commands, Irene's black stud gave me what I needed, "Turn around baby. That's right... Wait... Face that mirror... Beautiful..."

Suddenly, my wife's body appeared in my line of sight. I instinctively recoiled behind the door and waited a few seconds before peeking again. Irene was lying on the bed, on her stomach. I could see her beautiful red hair, the light skin of her shoulders, her delicate hands supporting part of her body weight and a small part of her arms and back.

"Spike your ass baby," he commanded.

Irene reacted by raising her head and facing the mirror where the image of him must have been reflected. I could see by her body language that she was complying with his request too. Then, I witnessed in my wife's face the seemingly overwhelming sensation of his cock reentering her. Irene's expression could be translated in two words: so much. So much meat in her; so much pleasure.

"Oh nice pussy..." he encouraged her. "Good girl."

The difference of age between them wasn't evident in the way he treated my wife. He was the dominant presence there.

Slowly, Irene's body relaxed. She let her weight fall onto the bed and her right cheek rested over the sheet. Her face was facing the exit. In fact, she was looking straight at me. For a moment, I thought that she was actually seeing me but her face seemed void of recognition. Irene couldn't distinguish my presence. The surrounding dark protected me from her eyes. But she was trying, maybe imagining me on the other side of that door.

From behind, her black lover pounded her. I couldn't see him, but I could sense his presence by the subtle wobble of Irene's body. He was pounding my wife, but he was taking his time, patiently letting the pleasure take over her. I could see it in Irene's eyes. I could see the shame and awkwardness but also the lust and satisfaction. With her lover out of sight, it felt as if we were alone, just the two of us.

Then, Irene looked away from me and faced the mirror. She rediscovered her lover's figure behind her and for a moment the image seemed to astonish her.

"I like this mirror," he responded to her gaze.

For a while, my wife contemplated the image before her as I was contemplating her. That scene seemed implausible, like a dream. There was a hidden man fucking Irene, my wife. I couldn't see it but there was a cock in her. It wasn't a fantasy. It wasn't a tale or something I was being told of. It was happening before me.

I realized that my pants were partially down and that I was touching myself with my right hand. How humiliating it would be if, by chance, that door opened before me and Irene's boyfriend discovered me touching myself as I watched them? He would see me stimulating myself at the sight of my wife's adulterous behavior. He would notice my small penis erect and he would understand why Irene needed him. What would he do if he found me there? Would he leave? Or would he rise to the occasion and keep fucking my wife before my presence.

The hidden man broke the silence, "You're too quiet today baby. Come on; tell me what you need... Say it."

Say what, I wondered? I didn't know what he meant, but Irene's shy reaction showed that she knew what he intended. Something was telling me that, if I wasn't there, she wouldn't be so modest. Then, he added, "I know you like to hear yourself say it and there is no better place to do it than here."

The words hesitantly came from Irene's mouth, "I'm a bad girl. I need a big cock."

"Just any cock?" he insisted.

"No, I need a big black cock. Please, give it to me," Irene replied.

"What would your husband say if he saw you?"

My wife didn't answer. Instead, a nervous smile escaped Irene's mouth. She knew I was there. She knew I was listening to her. He had no idea... Her boyfriend could use her, touch her, defile her body with his cock and her mind with foul ideas, but there was a part of her he couldn't have. Irene wasn't looking at me. She wasn't speaking to me. But, in that moment, I felt her complicity. Her boyfriend couldn't touch that.

"What would your friends say?" he continued.

Surprisingly, this time, Irene didn't stay silent, "I want them to know. I want to tell all my girlfriends I'm having a big black cock."

Irene would never tell this to anyone, I was sure of it. But her determinant words almost led me to question this certainty. Her words were strong, contradicting her submissive posture. Suddenly, a black hand appeared in the scene and pulled my wife out of my line of sight. I could no longer see, only listen to what was being said.

"What would they say in the office if they had caught us?" he said. His tone was confusing me. He seemed to be speaking of something that had really happened. "Look, there goes Irene, a married woman who was caught spreading her white legs on her desk for her black lover."

Irene had been screwing her boyfriend in the office. Only that once... who knows how many times? My wife had my permission to do as she wished but I didn't know she was playing outside her nightly dates. This small secret felt like a little betrayal. It meant that she had fully incorporated her new power in our marriage. It strengthened my jealousy but she had nothing to fear. In fact, I wished my wife could have many more secrets.

"Oh fuck! This feels good..." Irene let escape. Whatever he was doing, she was enjoying it. My wife's body didn't appear in my line of sight for the rest of the night, with the exception of an arm here and there. I was comfortable staying where I was until the moment she cried in ecstasy. They weren't over, but the fear of being caught was stronger from then on. I went back to my hideout and, from that place, I absorbed every sound coming from Irene as if it were the last. Through her voice, I was sharing that experience with her. It took a long while until I finally heard our apartment's door close and my wife came looking for me. Her lover was gone.

12. 

Knowing that your wife is having an affair with another man can have quite an impact on you, but nothing comparable to the moment you witness their intimacy with your own eyes. As she was lying on the bed with her companion, I realized how much Irene had changed over the last months.

Unlike what had happened in the past, when she learned that I had spied upon her with her lover, this time Irene wasn't unsure or fearful.

"Was it as you had dreamed it would be?" she playfully confronted me after her lover left.

I nodded in reply and then asked, "Was it good?"

Irene responded to me with a new question, "Did you not hear me?"

No answer was needed from my part.

Irene didn't ask if I had left my hideout but, from then on, she always spoke as if I did. Nor did my wife ever talk about her recent office mischief. She showed no discomfort, as it had never been a secret, or as if there wasn't any need to justify herself. When I touched the subject once, out of curiosity, she simply replied, "I couldn't restrain myself." There was defiance in her eyes, as if she was adding, "You like that, don't you?"

Yes, I did. Not knowing what surprises my wife had in store for me in the future was quite exciting. It was also extraordinary how competent she had become at playing with my mind. The image of my wife lying in bed as her boyfriend fucked her from behind, and the sound of her lascivious moans, drove my libido for weeks. I couldn't see what could be more intense than that. That experience also touched Irene and I felt her love and proximity more than ever. The effect of that night never disappeared but, with time, some of its intensity faded on both of us.

Meanwhile, as my wife's extra conjugal life lost its novelty and some of the excitement associated with it also began to fade, my attention moved to a new element. Just like her lingerie before, her dressing was becoming more dashing: an unbuttoned blouse here, a shorter skirt there, nothing too extreme and always very tasteful. Irene was slowly blossoming before me, releasing all the sensuality that was hidden in her. However, she wasn't changing for me, nor for her lover. Irene was doing it for herself and discovering a new pleasure from it. Our acquaintances noticed the changes and welcomed them as a good thing, not knowing what was behind it.

The intensity of our sex life had been at insane levels for the last months, but it was unrealistic to think it would last forever.

Irene kept seeing her lover. In fact, while our sexual activity was diminishing in frequency and intensity, it seemed that she was spending more and more time with him. Their meetings became more spontaneous instead of the usual scheduled dates. Sometimes, all it took was a phone call or a text message from him. It was also evident that they were screwing around after work on a fairly regular basis.

Irene was happy with her dual life. She had the better of two worlds: a loving and caring husband at home and a secret boyfriend with whom she could play the unfaithful wife without jeopardizing her marriage. For a while, I was content too. But jealousy would take a new role in our story.

Jealousy had always acted as an aphrodisiac in my mind. I had learned to detect it in me and enjoy it. However, with the new developments, it started to acquire a bitter tone. In the beginning I tried to shake it off, but it didn't go away. Instead, it grew. For the first time I was feeling threatened by my wife's affair. So, one day, when we were calmly enjoying some time together, I overcame my hesitation and said to her, "I've been doing some thinking lately, about our secret, and I think we should move on."

Irene looked at me and warmly smiled. However, her expression was also showing that she was puzzled with my words.

"I think you should break up with him," I assertively added.

Instantly, my wife's smile disappeared. The confusion had been replaced by surprise and unrest. Then, as if she was defending herself from an aggression, she cried, "No!"

Irene's answer stunned me. Her eyes were open wide and the muscles of her face were tense. The short and resolute answer showed that her decision wasn't open to discussion. I had never expected such a reaction coming from her, so I didn't know how to react and said nothing. Irene was openly telling that she would keep seeing her lover, even without my consent.

We spent the greater part of that day in a family event. Anyone who looked at us only saw a married couple in harmony, but the earlier subject was eating me alive and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I'm sure Irene was feeling the same way.

I postponed the imminent conversation until we were both in bed, later at night. However, I had no clue how to begin. So, I leaned over Irene and kissed her on the lips, just to break the ice. Jealousy can be a tricky feeling. All of a sudden, the need to touch her and feel her skin was stronger than everything. I had this strong need to claim her back as if I had lost her for a while. Naturally, our caresses and kisses intensified and we took our sleepwear off.

Suddenly, Irene stopped me. I looked at her and perceived she had something on her mind. My wife gently pushed me way, showing me that she wasn't rejecting me. I obediently knelt in the bed before her as she seemed to desire. Then, Irene spread her legs, very slowly, exposing her pussy as if she was performing for me: she guided her hand towards her crotch; one finger parted her labia and probed inside; it slowly slid along her skin towards her clit; then she slowly led it to her mouth and savored her own juices.

How could I not love that? The pending conversation had completely slipped my mind.

Irene's hand went back to her crotch and she began touching herself before me. Her pubic hair was all shaved, as her boyfriend liked. Along with Irene's mind, her girly parts had also changed. My wife's pussy had become accustomed to her lover's extra-large size. Only his cock could ever make her feel full again. That's why she no longer sought me as a lover as she used to do, I was sure of it. I knew I couldn't pleasure her anymore.

My jealousy had once again captured my thoughts but my wife woke me up from my trance. I never thought that her performance had a second intention, until the moment she told me, "Lick my cunt. Show me how much you love me."

The timing of her request wasn't innocent. My wife knew me too well. She was purposely leading me into a submissive position and, thus, making a point. We weren't playing a game anymore. When my lips touched her labia, I already knew that my wife wouldn't end her affair. It didn't matter if I consented or not. My wife would do as it pleased her. And I would accept it, because I loved her and I was under her spell. When she caressed my hair and pushed my face towards her pussy, I felt rewarded. Irene had full control over me.

13.

From that night on, I could have felt that I was an inmate trapped in a cage, a prisoner of a situation I no longer desired, but it didn't turn out that way after all. My wife's portrayed self-confidence and dominion impressed me and convinced me that this was how our marriage was going to be, at least for the time being.

There were times when jealousy was more prominent than ever and our sexual activity never regained its earlier glory. Nevertheless, I was happy to be living her fantasy. In fact, although I would have been content if my wife had proceeded according to my request, part of me loved the moment she said "no". 

One day, when we were playing with each other in bed, Irene asked me, "Want to try something new?" Then she handed me a condom, playfully knelt on all fours before me and said, "Put it in my other hole."

We had never done it before, so I was both surprised and excited by the prospect of trying something new. But nothing had prepared me for the wonder and shock I felt when I witnessed my wife taking my penis without any seemingly effort. This is how I learned that it wasn't Irene's first time.

On another occasion, I find out that Irene was letting her lover cum inside of her, when she left a pair of sperm-filled panties on our bedroom floor. I knew that her underwear hadn't been forgotten there. Irene had planted them, after one of her dates, so that I could find them and learn what she had been doing with her boyfriend.

Only these occasional discoveries could break our newly mundane routine. Our relationship resembled the old days, but it wasn't due to Irene's apparent lack of interest in sex, as before. This time, my wife was having plenty of cock, just not from me.

I wanted more, but the joyful look on Irene's face was enough to assuage any troubled feelings I could be having. My wife was happy and I was happy for her. I was still her husband, the man she loved, the man with whom she spent most of her free time and shared the most significant moments of her life. In the end, no matter how much fun she could be having with her boyfriend, Irene would always come back to me.

Then, one day, without prior notice, the sky fell on my head.

"I'm pregnant..." Irene said to me.

My wife had been waiting for me to come home from work. When I saw her, I immediately noticed that something had happened and that she had something to tell me. Irene was deeply troubled and her voice trembled.

I was so surprised that, in the beginning, I didn't realize the full extent of Irene's words.

"Dwayne..." Irene nervously added. Dwayne... Despite being a constant presence in my wife's life, a long time had passed since we had pronounced his name to each other. Her lover had no name. He was nobody, just a sex toy to be used at will. "Dwayne is the father," she continued in a begging tone as if she was expecting me to make it right.

I couldn't believe it. It couldn't be true.

"Are you sure?" I asked, still numb from the shock and unable to clearly think. "How did that happen?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Irene replied as if she was about to break into tears.

I didn't doubt her certainty. I couldn't remember the last time I had been inside my wife, much less the last time I had cum in her. Lately, Irene had become her boyfriend's propriety. Only he touched her in a sexual way.

After such a blow, neither of us was thinking straight nor in condition to make any decision. We had to calm ourselves and consider the options. However, for Irene, there was only one possible path, "I'm having this baby."

At the time, I didn't contradict her. Her decision wasn't set in stone, especially when it had been made at such a troubled time. Later, we got back to it. However, no matter the consequences, Irene didn't change her mind.

"I want this baby," she insisted.

For a few days I still entertained the idea I could change her plans. But, sooner or later, I had to face reality. My wife was pregnant. Irene was having a baby from another man.

I was trapped and powerless before her decision. I could break up our marriage and leave her... This option was at my disposal, but I loved her too much to take this path. I couldn't live without Irene.

We had played with fire but the price I had to pay seemed unfairly high. In the moment that child comes to this world, everyone would know that it wasn't mine. Everyone would know that Irene had fucked another man. Everyone would know that I had been cuckolded with a black guy. I couldn't pretend otherwise.

In the end, I resigned myself to bear all this punishment out of love for my wife. I accepted my fate. She was pregnant by another man. Irene had welcomed her black lover's seed and, now, there was a part of him growing in her. Nothing would be the same in our lives.

For a short while, this all seemed like a bad dream that I would wake from at any time. On the other hand, despite the circumstances and after the initial shock, Irene couldn't hide the happiness her condition was giving to her. This happiness numbed me and confused me, at first, but slowly changed me and I embraced it.

My Irene, my sweet Irene was having a baby from another man, a black child. Just when I was beginning to accept the idea of Irene having the baby, and I was beginning to conform, I found out that Irene was still seeing her lover.

14.

I thought that my wife's pregnancy had changed her priorities. I thought that we had both learned our lesson and her affair was history. For a while, it seemed that way. Then, all of a sudden, it started all over again.

I tried to endure it, the best I could. Irene was still my wife and she loved me, but her lover was the father of her future child. I couldn't see how she could maintain their relationship just at a sexual level. That guy had to leave our lives for good.

Then, one night, Irene slept away from our bed and only came home after sunrise. I spent all night long tormenting myself: imagining Irene sleeping next to her black lover; holding him while they slept; waking up next to him. Worse of all was not knowing if she would come back to me at all... but she did.




Irene's Blossoming



I was losing my wife. I couldn't stand still, so I confronted her. Although I didn't mean it to end up that way, soon a strong argument had taken shape. All I wanted was to put some sense in Irene's head but it was pointless. 

"Dwayne always dreamed of having a son," Irene said at a given moment.

One single sentence was enough to unleash all my fury. Who cares about his dreams or desires? Irene was my wife, not his. After a while, it was all about unloading my frustration.

"Do you think that he loves you? Do you think that he cares for you, as I do?" I viciously said. "You're just a prize to him, a white slut with whom he can have fun and brag to his friends later. Is that what you want to be for the rest of your life? A slut who gets pregnant by a black guy she hardly knows?"

Irene still tried to contain herself but I could see hate in her eyes, "I never wanted to be in bed with him. You're the one who was obsessed by it."

"I never asked you to get pregnant. I never asked you to take his filthy cum. You did it because you wanted to, because you're a slut!"

All the anger and frustration I had repressed since I had learned my wife was pregnant was finally coming out. It felt good. My words were hurting her, humiliating her as she had done to me. I could see it in her eyes.

For a moment, I thought my wife was going to cry, but she was much stronger than that.

"That's right. I'm a slut. I love my black boyfriend and his big black cock. Did I ever tell you how big he is? It's huge! He can brag to whomever he wants because I'm his," Irene challenged me. Her voice was low, almost a whisper. Her tone was provocative. If it weren't for the hatred in her eyes, I could almost think that she was trying to arouse me. Her reasoning was increasingly vicious and hurtful, "I'm his since the first moment he touched me. Take a good look at yourself... at your little dick. Did you really think you could compete with him?"

I wanted to fight back, but all I could do was insult her, "Fucking cunt!"

Irene didn't stop, "Now I'm pregnant... his child. It takes a real man to knock up a woman. I'm so proud for carrying his baby."

Irene touched her belly, a genuinely gentle and loving gesture in the middle of so much hatred. Her mouth opened, as if she was going to continue her speech, but her mind changed. There had been enough abuse already. Then she left and I didn't see her for the rest of the day. The following day, when I got home, I found her there, waiting for me with her bags packed.

"Dwayne asked me to move in with him," Irene simply said.

There wasn't any hate or anger in either of us, only sorrow. I wanted to tell her to stay, but my pride was too strong to allow me to ask.

For months, my fantasy had granted both of us pleasure and fun but it had derailed. Had it all been an illusion and a big mistake? Now that she was pregnant by her lover, he would be a lasting presence in her life forever.

Irene left and I knew it was for good. I felt devastated.

15.

Irene was gone. After sharing my life with her for more than twelve years, I didn't know what to do. All I knew is that I still loved my wife and I missed her. I convinced myself that the best way to deal with my wounds would be to let her go and move on. So, from then on, I tried to avoid anything that could remind me of Irene. Still, it was only a matter of time until I would meet her again...

One day, I was walking on the street when I saw her from afar. I should have immediately turned my back from her and gotten out of there before she could see me. Instead, I sought a hiding place, from which I could safely observe her. No matter how much it could hurt me, I wanted to see her and know how she was doing.

Irene was beautiful... more beautiful than ever. As mild and predictable as they could be, the changes on her reminded me that her life had also moved on after our break-up. Her lovely red hair was longer and she was wearing a long, maternity dress. Underneath, Irene exhibited a huge and proud pregnancy belly, very close to giving birth. She looked like a mom, a happy mom, and I wished that baby could be mine. In fact, for a moment, I felt as if she was still my wife. But then, out of nowhere came her black companion to meet her, thus breaking my spell.

They held hands and continued their path side by side. Apparently, there was nothing in common between them, but both their postures demonstrated fulfillment and satisfaction for being with each other. Irene grabbed his muscled arm, a possessive gesture, as if she didn't want to leave any doubt to the passersby that they were together and her baby was his. The black guy was younger, bigger and stronger than me. He was more physically fit to protect Irene and satisfy her needs. No wonder my wife preferred him over me.

After following them for a few seconds, I walked away resigned to the knowledge that Irene belonged to another man now.

Only one last step was necessary to close this chapter of my life: the divorce. Many times, I thought about it, however, I didn't go through with it. Maybe some part of me wished to maintain one last, faint glimmer of hope. Occasionally, I imagined Irene knocking on my door with the divorce papers in her hand. At these moments, I wished never to see her again. Anyway, I would give her the divorce if she wished, but I wasn't contacted by her or by anyone on her behalf.

For months I tried to deal with my wounds. It was hard, in the beginning, but time heals everything and soon Irene became a memory.

One day, at the supermarket, an attractive blonde woman approached me. Her name was Bea, one of those acquaintances from my past that I avoided ever since Irene and I had broken up. Bea took the initiative to come talk with me. The first contact was pleasant, so I didn't push her away. After shopping, we went for a coffee together and this led to another meeting the next day. Bea kept showing interest in being with me and we became much closer than we had ever been before.

At this point of my life, all I sought was peace and quiet, exactly the opposite of what Bea could give to me. Bea was a married woman with two children. But most importantly, she was Irene's boss and a good friend of hers. If the plan was to stay away from anyone who could remind me of Irene, hooking up with Bea was a bad idea.

Anyway, it felt good to receive the attention of that woman, whom I had always felt physically attracted to. My confidence with her grew. One day, I tried to kiss her and she didn't reject me. It seemed like that Bea wanted me as much as I wanted her. With her, I remembered the pleasure and the thrill of flirting and seducing a woman other than my wife. The more often I spent time with Bea, the more distant and forgettable my past seemed to be. Soon, I would know her body, her skin, her moans... Although our relationship had no future, Bea was slowly becoming part of my life.

Then, one day, someone knocked on my door. It was Irene.

16.

Only one reason seemed plausible for Irene's presence in her former house: the dreaded divorce. I searched for the infamous papers in her hands or a suitable briefcase, but she wasn't carrying any.

"I just wanted to know how you were doing," Irene simply said. "Can I come in?"

I welcomed her in and we chatted. Just like the day she left our house, there wasn't anger or bad words.

We were both behaving as if the person before us was only a vague acquaintance. There was an invisible barrier between us. I hadn't seen her for eighteen months, but it felt like eighteen years.

The signs of her pregnancy were completely gone and she seemed in great shape. Irene looked like a different woman. Her red hair was longer than ever and she kept it loose and smooth, which made her appear much younger. The skirt was short and daring. Although I knew Irene's body very well, when she sat in front of me and crossed her legs, it was hard not to stare at them. Her make-up was less conservative and more refined, without masking her natural beauty.

The blossoming I had been witnessing before our break up was complete. Irene had become a gorgeous woman, unattainable for the common mortal. Underneath those clothes and self-confidence, there was still the same body I had known for years. But now it seemed much more alluring and desirable than ever before, entirely out of my reach.

We both talked about our recent lives and, slowly, the ice began to melt. Irene spoke about her new role as a mother, conveniently avoiding any mention of Dwayne or any other awkward subject. No matter how much time had passed or how different she looked on the outside, I could still see the woman with whom I had fallen in love in the tender way she talked about her child or in the way she smiled.

Irene also wanted to hear news about me. I couldn't tell her about Bea, even if I wanted to, although that was the most exciting thing that had happened to me since our break up, but, surprisingly, she seemed to already know about it.

After circling around the subject for a while, Irene bluntly said, "So... you have been seeing Bea..."

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. Was she trying to confirm a suspicion or did she know the facts? Bea was a married woman and I didn't want to put her in a difficult spot. Noticing my discomfort, Irene added, "She told me... We confide this stuff to each other."

Irene and Bea had always been good friends. But it seemed unbelievable to me that Bea would share this kind of information with her friend.

"She asked my permission... to see you," Irene continued as if it served as a justification for her knowledge.

"What did you answer?" I dared to ask.

"I said no... I told her you were mine," she outrageously said. For a moment, we kept silent, staring at each other. Then, Irene's expression opened in a big smile and the gravity of her words was lost in a friendly laughter. "I was joking... I didn't say that to her, obviously. I'm sorry," she added.

It was probably just a small joke to break the ice between us, but I couldn't help myself from thinking that, maybe, she really meant it. Maybe she was feeling jealous of Bea... Maybe she wanted me back... 

Irene didn't disclose her hidden intentions, if there were any. For all purposes, she only wanted to know how I was doing. However, her visits didn't stop with that first one. In fact, it quickly became a regular routine for Irene to visit me at our former marital home. Rapidly, my recent interest in Bea faded away and Irene reentered my life. Although we weren't back together, I began seeing her as my wife again.

Then, one day, Irene casually said, "Dwayne and I don't live together anymore... and we haven't for quite some time." It was the first time she had mentioned him in our conversations.

I excitedly welcomed the news but concealed it from Irene. Instead, I subtly tried to explore more, "So... you broke up..."

"We still see each other... often," Irene clarified.

How could I have thought otherwise? Dwayne was the father of Irene's child. Anyway, despite the dismay and jealousy caused by her last words, I couldn't help myself from feeling a new hope. Irene had reentered my life out of her own initiative and, maybe, this could be the start of a new beginning for us.

My enthusiasm had its ups and downs. There were times when I felt that Irene was trying to resume our marriage. However, whenever I tried to take our proximity one step closer, she always stopped me and made me feel as a friend; a good friend, but only a friend though. The seemingly duplicity of her behavior was torturous. This gorgeous teaser was playing with me. Irene was both familiar and unknown; she was simultaneously my wife and the woman I had never had.

I desired her more than anything, so, one day, I tried to kiss her. Irene allowed my approach and our lips touched for a brief moment. But then she took a small step backwards and her hand, against my chest, prevented me from following her. 

"Do you still fantasize about me and other men?" she surprisingly asked.

Irene's question caught me off guard.

"Now, I do... Again," I cautiously replied. I had never had these fantasies about Bea, during our short lived relationship. Only Irene, my wife, could awaken this desire in me and make me feel this way.

Irene's question could have been just a test. After my answer, she could have knocked down the door on her way out and left my life for good, knowing that I hadn't learned my lesson. This would make sense...

Indeed, Irene would leave in a minute. But before she left, she smiled at me and asked, "Do you want to go out with me this Friday night?"

An emotional flood of excitement and happiness overwhelmed me after hearing her words.

"Yes," I instantly replied.

Irene noticed my happiness, for sure. Her last words encouraged me even further, "I have missed you..."

17.

Irene picked the restaurant. Much to my surprise, it was the same place where my wife and her lover had been on their first date. Although I had never told her that I had spied on them that evening, Irene's choice didn't seem innocent. Maybe she knew that I had been there before...

Irene was gorgeous with a short and youthful pencil skirt. When I first saw her wearing it, I fell in love with her all over again.

After a few weeks of advances and setbacks, Irene was no longer treating me like a friend, although we weren't behaving as husband and wife either. There was romance in the air, something natural and fresh. Irene was flirting with me and using her sex appeal and lovely personality to conquer me back. I gladly let myself sail in the ocean of her charms.

At one point, our hands touched and I realized that Irene was wearing our wedding ring. Maybe she had never stopped wearing it and I had just realized it. But seeing that precious band around her finger seemed like a good omen. Irene noticed my reaction, I was sure of it. She didn't say anything, but the affection evident in her tender eyes warmed me inside.

Later, my hopefulness grew, when Irene invited me to her apartment. 

"What about your baby?" I nervously asked realizing that I was touching an uncomfortable subject.

"Don't worry... It's all taken care off for this night," Irene replied. Only later I would realize the full meaning of these words.

The apartment had been rented just for Irene and her child. It was comforting to see that there was no sign of her black companion ever having been there. The farther away she was from him, the more confident I felt about having my wife back.

Irene led me by hand to her bedroom. A few seconds later, we were kissing passionately on the bed, physically resuming our marriage. I was lying on my back and she had climbed on top of me. It had been hard to notice the stunning woman that Irene had become and not be able to touch or feel her anymore. When she guided my hands to her lustful thighs, it felt too good to be true. When she seductively took off her clothes and I saw a sexy black bra cupping her breasts, it felt like a dream. I couldn't believe I was in bed with such a gorgeous woman.

Everything had been flowing naturally and lightly, obeying no predetermined script... But my wife had made additional plans for that night.

Irene was opening my pants when, suddenly, I heard noise coming from inside the apartment. A few seconds later, I noticed that someone was at the entrance of our room. 

My wife quickly assured me, "Relax... He is my guest tonight."

Before my mind could focus on the intruder, Irene had resumed her hot kisses and we kept making out before this disquieting presence who silently observed us from a few feet away. I didn't need to be told who that person was. Until that moment, I had thought that this was supposed to be a romantic night between two reconciled married people. But Irene's plan also included the man by whom she had gotten pregnant; the man that had taken her from me.

This time, I wasn't spying from afar or hiding behind a door. My cuckold condition was exposed for my wife's boyfriend to see. At least, I could feel Irene's body brushing against mine, smell the perfume on her skin and feel her soft hand touching my hard-on inside my clothes.

For a while, I had my wife's attention concentrated entirely on me, despite the other man's presence. For once I knew the feeling of being observed by a third party. Irene lowered my pants and underwear, and caressed my penis before her lover. It was so easy to let myself go with her wishes...

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she whispered to me approving of my condition. Irene had me pinned under her body and my hands hadn't moved away from her legs, as if I were too bewildered by this situation or too afraid of letting her go. Then, while she stretched her arm towards him, Irene called, "Dwayne..."

The black man approached the bed, an uncomfortable and unwanted presence for me. There were no words between us. Any attempt to speak in that moment would be awkward and ridiculous. We were both there for Irene, period. Without being asked, the black man began taking off his pants right in front of her. My eyes took refuge in my wife, who watched her black lover undressing. After a few seconds, she looked at me and our eyes met. My wife was silently communicating that it was time for her to leave me for him.

Irene knelt on the bed before the black man. All the regret and disappointment I had felt, due to his presence there, disappeared the moment she began unbuttoning his shirt and her hands touched his muscled chest. My wife paused and stared at his naked torso for a couple of seconds. Irene was a goddess, powerful and desirable beyond measure, but, in that moment, she was the one who seemed to be worshipping his body. Then, Irene kissed his chest. It was both tender and lustful. I could feel the affection she had for him in the air. An old, familiar feeling called jealousy dominated me and I felt as if something had just been broken inside me. Despite the pain, I didn't wish Irene to stop. At least for one more night, she was still my wife, and I desired to see her being taken in the way she deserved.

Still lying in the bed, half naked, I felt bound by the sight of my wife's actions. I didn't dare to move, afraid that any movement from my part could be misinterpreted.

Irene looked back at me and took my hand. Guided by her will, I left the bed and stood up next to her black lover. Irene sat on the bed between us. My gaze took shelter in her face. I didn't know how to act or where to look. It felt so much safer to simply do what Irene wished me to do. My stare didn't leave my wife even when, from the corner of my eye, I sensed her pulling down her boyfriend's underwear. Then, her right hand took hold of my penis and her touch felt desperately good.

Irene looked upwards right in my eyes but said nothing. Instead, I witnessed her gaze moving to my crotch firstly and then to the crotch of the other man. Then, she looked back at me. I knew what my wife desired, so I mimicked her behavior. I looked down at my crotch and then to the huge cock next to me.

My erect penis was as hard as it could be, the proof of the arousing effect that seeing my wife touch another man had on me. I already knew that it was small. But when I looked to my right, this smallness seemed to attain a new dimension. Irene was holding her boyfriend's black cock with her left hand. It was mostly flaccid still, but his manhood already greatly surpassed the size of my full hard-on. I felt like a small boy before a man. My inadequacy felt like an open invitation for the black man to take my wife at his will. I couldn't compete with him.

Irene took my hand and invited me to sit next to her on the bed. Once again, I obeyed her hoping to observe my wife touching her black lover from a closer position, although this lower position made me feel awkward and embarrassed due to the fact that his cock hung right in front of my eyes.




Irene's Blossoming



"So big..." Irene whispered. Despite the uncomfortable position, Irene's warm words forced me to stare at her boyfriend's manhood. From this perspective, it looked even thicker and more impressive, one proud piece of cockmeat. The skin was dark brown, with the exception of the pinkish tone of his huge glans peeking from the inside of his foreskin, and his pubic hair was trimmed short.

"A real man's cock," Irene whispered in my ear. The apparent harshness of her words clashed with the warm and caring tone of her voice. Then, her lips brushed my ear and she added, "But I still love you." Irene was still my wife, both on paper and in her heart. A wave of excitement and happiness lifted my spirit. Soon, that big black cock would be inside of my wife but I would still know that she hadn't forgotten our love.

My heart beat fast. I was drunk from so much happiness and arousal, and from so much pain and jealousy. Irene licked her lips and I wished her to handle her boyfriend's cock as soon as possible. The situation was overwhelming, much more intense than I had anticipated in my wildest fantasies. However, my wife wasn't content and she wished to feed the insanity even more.

With clear shock, I heard Irene whispering to me, "Touch it." I knew perfectly well what she meant with those two words, but I chose to disregard it as a vain challenge from a teaser. However, Irene didn't stop there. "Touch it, please," she insisted. How could she be asking me to do this?

My wife had to know that I would never do such a thing of my own volition. She had to know I didn't want to touch his cock. Anyway, Irene gently took my hand with the clear purpose to lead it to her intended destination.

"Feel it, like I felt it once... The touch of a real man's cock for the first time," she whispered though. I could have stopped her... However, at that moment, confused by the sensual voice of that gorgeous woman, I truthfully desired to know how it felt like to touch that giant piece of cockmeat. I wanted to know what Irene had felt that evening in the parking lot, when she touched her lover's manhood for the first time.

So, I let my hand be guided to the soft dark skin. My fingers enveloped his shaft and I instantly felt it getting stiffer. Then, Irene's palm covered mine and instructed my hand to move. "Pump my boyfriend's cock stiff and hard for me," my wife encouraged softly. As the foreskin of that uncut cock was being pulled, slowly, his giant and shining glans became exposed. Then, Irene released my hand and I continued the intended motion on my own. She reached for his huge ball sac, too big and full for her small hand to envelop, and caressed her lover.

My hand had a will of its own, but the rest of my body was tense. The last thing I desired was to face Irene or the man whose cock I was stimulating. He had already taken so much from me in the past. At that moment, my submission was empowering him even more, enhancing his masculinity before Irene's eyes. Through my action, I was admitting my inferiority to my wife's boyfriend. He was the man there. Only he was good enough to please a woman like Irene.

18.

My head was down but my eyes were set on the big tool I was holding. Under those circumstances it seemed like the only place fit for me to look. With each stroke of my hand, the hard-on became greater and greater, forcing the member to become proudly erect. I couldn't help admiring and envying that powerful piece of black meat.

"I'm so horny... I can't wait to take that big cock deep inside of me," Irene softly said to me.

Finally, I overcame my embarrassment and looked at my wife. Irene smiled at me and I felt her love and excitement. Somehow, that moment seemed only ours, as if we were the only people present in the room. All of a sudden, just by looking at my wife's beautiful and tender face, holding another man's cock didn't seem so dramatic.

After a few seconds, Irene's smile opened wider and it seemed to carry some encrypted message. My wife left the bed. When she knelt on the floor before her black lover, I felt a strong arousing discharge in my body. I desperately anticipated the moment Irene would take over the action and become the star of the show. However, I can't deny that, after what had happened before, I feared my wife's plans. When Irene asked me to join her and kneel on the floor, I knew that my fears were justified.

Still, despite my concealed distress, I did as my wife asked of me. Once again, I was submitting to Irene's hung lover when I knelt before his erection.

"I want to see you touch him... with your lips," Irene whispered. I looked at her in shock. My eyes were saying no but Irene insisted, "I promise... it feels great."

I didn't want to feel great. I didn't want to do it. All I wanted was to be with my wife again. For a moment, I felt a rebellion taking form inside of me. Wasn't it enough that he could take my wife whenever he wished? Hadn't it been enough to see my wife pregnant with his child? He already had so much. How could Irene love me and use me like this?

"No," I murmured in a desperate tone. My eyes were begging her to drop the outrageous idea.

"It's too late to be ashamed," Irene teased me. I realized that I shouldn't have gone so far to please my wife. Irene approached her mouth to my ear and softly said, "You already pumped him hard... This will be our secret." As if her words weren't enough, her hand held my penis and she slowly began to stroke it. "Do it for me. I want to watch... Suck his hard cock for me," she insisted in the same tone. "You will love the feeling... like I do."

I was desperately looking for a way out of that situation. The sound of her voice on my ear was both enchanting and torturous. I had to make a stand, didn't I? But what if I stopped fighting? What if I just gave up? All I had to do was stop worrying and take comfort that I was only doing as my wife desired.

I looked at Irene one more time. This time, I was begging her for help to overcome the last barrier of reluctance, so that all the pain could stop. Instead, Irene caressed the hair in the back of my head and gently encouraged me to take that fateful, unfathomable action; there, on my knees, she urged me towards her lover's erect cock.

"Lick your lips," my wife instructed. "Feel how smooth he feels."

My right hand secured the black cock and I licked my lips. A strong manly scent invaded my nostrils when I purposely avoided his glans and touched the hard shaft with my mouth. Just like Irene had said, the skin was soft, almost silky. I had never realized before how smooth a hard cock could be.

"Feel his big head..." Irene encouraged.

I obeyed my wife and turned my attention to the huge glans. It was impressive how sensitive such a powerful and muscled tool could feel against my own lips. Moved by some curiosity, I dared to touch the silky head with the tip of my tongue. Irene reacted with visible pleasure, "That's it... Don't think, just let yourself go..."

I could feel the weight of Irene's eyes upon me and the approval in her words and excited breath. After the initial impact, the manly scent didn't feel as strong and strange anymore and, somehow, it was adding an arousing new dimension to the situation. 

Irene put in words what I didn't dare to think, "It tastes like man..."

My tongue left my mouth, increasing the contact with his cockhead and I timidly explored the sensitive area. Now that my resistance had been conquered, my wife's requests seemed oddly easy to accomplish.

"Go on... Open your mouth," Irene continued.

As commanded, I opened my mouth and let the huge glans slid inside slowly. The black man released a pleased moan. This unexpected sound broke my spell, and I remembered that my actions were being done to a man.

Irene also reacted to the moment and she softly teased me, "How does it feel to have your mouth full?"

The huge cock slid backwards and I hesitated to proceed. I couldn't believe I had a black cock in my mouth. I couldn't believe I was willingly giving head to another man. How did my wife lead me to this?

"It's overwhelming, isn't it?" Irene continued in the same tone, as her hand in my crotch regained life and stimulated me. "You know what you have to do. Please him... make my black stud feel good. Do it with pride."

I shockingly realized that I wanted to proceed. I wanted to keep sucking on that big black piece of cockmeat. But I wanted to do it for my wife and not for another man's pleasure. I desperately desired there could be a way of doing it without his presence...

"I'm so horny," Irene whispered, "Suck Dwayne's big cock."

I never imagined myself giving a blowjob... But the damage had already been done and Irene's presence and evident excitement was enough to conquer all my doubts and distress. So I embraced my destiny as a cocksucker. I took Dwayne's manhood inside of me and I used my hand and all my mouth to worship it. My lips, my tongue, the inside of my mouth and my saliva all became tools in the service of that big black cock for a while.

Irene's warm whispers kept encouraging me to continue. The gentle stroking of her hand in my crotch felt great and kept reassuring me of her intents. But this enjoyment also carried a good volume of guilt. It felt wrong to feel good when I was pleasuring another man.

Suddenly, I felt a salty fluid unexpectedly coming from the big cock into my mouth. The limited portion of pre-cum first touched my tongue, but then its taste spread to every corner, until all my mouth was tainted by this manly fluid.

At this point, Irene stopped me. I don't know if she had read it in my expression, but when her lips touched mine I realized that she already knew how I would taste. Then, my wife's tongue invaded my mouth and she kissed me with eagerness. When contact was finally broken, Irene whispered in my ear, "I'll never forget this moment. From now on, whenever I kiss you, I'll always remember Dwayne's cock."

How could she say such things to me? Irene's words were outrageous but also a powerful aphrodisiac. After overcoming the initial shock, I just smiled. I smiled at my wife, because her words had betrayed that she intended to kiss me many more times in the future.

"Now, finish off your man," my wife commanded.

Despite her provoking words, I focused my attention back on the big cock and resumed the blowjob. This time, Irene's hand joined mine and she increased the stimulating pace on the black cock.

"You're so good at it," she said, an embarrassing encouragement. "Look at your lover's face."

Irene wanted me to look upwards at the black man. A new wave of reluctance prevented me from doing as she wished. Despite what I had already done that night, this seemed to take these outrageous acts one step further than I could voluntarily proceed.

"Look at his eyes while you have his cock in your mouth," Irene insisted. Despite my reluctance, I once again succumbed to my wife's wishes. With his black cock buried in my mouth, I awkwardly looked upwards and rediscovered the face of the man I was giving head to. "You're his now," Irene added.

By looking at him, I was acknowledging his presence. His name sounded inside of my mind: Dwayne

When my eyes met his, I saw in him an undisputed superiority. In that moment, I didn't felt like a man. In his mind, my wife and I were two promiscuous white sluts who couldn't get enough of black cock. And in that moment I had to agree with his conclusion. I realized that this was how I would feel in the future, if I ever met him again.

"Oh yeah... that feels good..." the black man said as he focused his stare on my wife.

I closed my eyes and my attention went back exclusively to the huge member. Just like Irene had asked of me earlier, I felt myself proud, a guilty pride, for being able to handle such an amazing cock; a remarkable specimen, worthy of my submission.

"I don't have to see Dwayne alone anymore. Now, we can both pleasure him... together... as a couple," Irene said, this time out loud, maybe sensing my ultimate surrender.

Dwayne moaned again and I knew he was almost cumming. His hand secured my head in place, assuring his cock wouldn't slip out of my mouth at the moment of his release. I guess I could have freed myself, but I hesitated.

Irene encouraged me, "Let him cum in your mouth."

Again I felt myself wronged. It wasn't fair. I had never lived the experience of having my wife taking my cum in her mouth, yet she desired me to do it for her black lover.

Anyway, my hand's pace increased and I waited with my eyes closed.

"Oh fuck..." the manly voice said along with an intense moan.

A powerful shot of sperm hit the back of my throat, forcing me to open my eyes wide. I couldn't believe a man was ejaculating in my mouth. How could I ever live with it?

"Swallow," Irene whispered in my ear, long before he had finished.

Shot after shot, his massive balls filled me with their thick semen. When I felt it was over, I released the powerful member and swallowed the sperm as my wife suggested. While sliding off my mouth, his huge glans brushed in my lips and chin, leaving one last trace of his sperm. Irene didn't seem to hesitate. She leaned over me and licked the remnants of his semen from my face. At the same time, the speed of her hand in my crotch increased insanely, driving me to orgasm in a matter of seconds. Her boyfriend was already in the bed, enjoying the lasting effects of his climax, when my cum fell wasted on the floor where he had been standing. On the other hand, the black man's fluids were in my mouth, in my throat, in my stomach and soon would reach my blood and spread all over my body, changing me and becoming part of me.

"It's my turn," my wife said.

19.

All my excitement emptied me after the orgasm. My wife had aroused me to do the unthinkable and only now I felt capable of understanding the obvious consequences. How could she ever love and respect her husband, after witnessing me sucking another man's cock and swallowing his seed? I was only a sex toy, a means to an end. When Irene climbed on top of her black lover, she didn't seem to know that I existed anymore.

I grabbed my pants and underwear. Maybe it was best for me to leave. My presence there seemed pointless. Embarrassed, I couldn't even look at them. While I was composing myself, I imagined myself leaving that room, that apartment, without them even noticing my absence. I imagined myself having to face the people outside, too ashamed and afraid that someone could read in my sore jaw or in my sperm-breath the signs of my humiliation. It would be my personal walk of shame. Then I imagined myself sleeping in my bed, alone, once again.

Fortunately, Irene had other plans for me. When my wife noticed me getting dressed, she asked, "What are you doing?" I didn't answer. Instead, I approached her and she invited me to be in the bed next to her, "Come here."

My wife's bra and panties were gone. She was naked on top of her lover. There was an evident contrast between their bodies: his blackness against her light skin; his huge hands grabbing her small waist; her fragile body yielding to his prominent muscles. The black man's cock was hard again. Not even the lewd movements of my wife's pussy rubbing on her boyfriend's shaft seemed capable of waking my small, flaccid cock from its embarrassing slumber.

When Irene guided the hard cock to her entrance and he pushed it in, I saw the same overwhelmed expression in her face I had witnessed on the day I had spied on them from behind a door. The big black cock quickly disappeared inside my wife, with amazing ease. The black man rose to his feet, lifting my wife by her thighs in the process, without exiting her pussy, and pinned her against the nearest naked wall. Irene's body shook due to the cold surface against her back. Then, he fucked her there. The movements of his waist advertised that he was slowly driving his cock deep. At the same time, there was a peace of mind in Irene's countenance. Her stare was set on me. Dwayne's cock was buried inside of her, but I felt her eyes making love with me.

These hypnotic movements seemed to last forever. Dwayne was patient and tireless. Irene's weight was insignificant to his strong arms.

When they were both ready, my wife's lover took her back to the bed. I watched him tease her and, without shame, Irene begged for his black cock. Then, he fucked her hard, and she accepted his raw enthusiasm with delight.

The black man was using my wife's body and she was enjoying being used. The more he manhandled her, the more Irene liked the treatment. My earlier guilt and dismay vanished. I was mesmerized by the lewd excitement of my wife as she was being taken by her black stud. I felt good for her. I felt proud of her. This was the woman I had always desired Irene to become.

My wife came once. The black man diminished the intensity of his thrusts, but he didn't stop. He just kept fucking her, since her body was entirely at his disposal. New signs of pleasure began to show in Irene's countenance and, after a long while of wild pleasure, she came a second time.

As her pleasure continued, he put my wife on all fours. Irene obeyed to him gladly. But, while I was expecting him to keep pounding her, she now took control. Irene's body began to sway, forward and backwards, along the big black pole. He didn't have to do anything; it was as if she were fucking him. My wife still had the strength to guide her lover to ecstasy on her own. These soft and bewitching movements were enough to lead any man to madness. I admired her stamina. I worshipped her boldness.

Dwayne didn't even bother to take his cock out of my wife. He just shot his load inside of her, as I am sure he was used to doing. Then, he collapsed on top of my Irene and she gently embraced him. After such a display of sensuality, I envied that man. I wished I could be the one who was in her arms.

20.

After my wife and her lover were done, I feared for a moment of awkwardness. Much to my surprise, Dwayne got dressed and left. Just like that. Still, before his departure, Irene affectionately kissed him goodbye. Once again, I realized that he would never leave my wife's life.

After he was gone, Irene came back to me and we cuddled in the bed. The memories of my earlier deeds came back to haunt me but she seemed calm and peaceful. We stayed like this for a while, until my wife decided to break the silence.

First, Irene giggled and then she said, "I can't believe you sucked Dwayne's cock."

My wife seemed like one of those kids who dares us to do something stupid and, when we do it, then mocks us. I wished there could be a nearby hole into which I could crawl. My wife would never forget what I had done that night.

Irene still seemed calm, free from any drama. So I dared to ask, "Why?" I hoped she could understand what I meant, without forcing me to put into words what had happened before.

"I guess it began the day I first saw Dwayne's cock," Irene began. "I wished you were there with me... somehow. It grew. Somewhere along the path I started to imagine us sharing his big cock. This fantasy turned me on..."

I wasn't convinced.

"Why would any woman fantasize about her husband...?" I hesitated for a moment. Then I continued, "It doesn't make any sense."

"Why would any man fantasize about his wife having sex with another man?" Irene replied.

I opened my mouth to argue back, but then I realized what she meant.

"Why didn't you say anything before? Why didn't you ask me?" I insisted.

Again, Irene replied with an answer, "Would you have accepted it if I had asked you in advance?"

"You manipulated me..."

"Yes," Irene answered and, at the same time, she caressed my face. Then she caringly added, "Just like you manipulated me before."




Irene's Blossoming



I looked at my wife's face, searching for deception. Maybe she was still manipulating me... Anyway, following a sudden impulse, I said, "I love you."

Irene smiled and tears appeared on her beautiful eyes. Then she replied, "I love you too. Will you have me back?"

"Yes," I promptly answered.

I didn't know how our future would unfold. Irene had another man's baby. She was a different woman. I also didn't know what her intentions were regarding Dwayne. Maybe that special night had been a goodbye, one last night with her lover before the end. Or maybe it was just the beginning of a new chapter.

In fact, none of this mattered. In the end, I loved Irene and she was finally mine again.