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To All Those Interested in Cuckolding

I remember the first time I saw a black penis. I went over to my friend Gary’s single wide trailer with a couple buddies. We were all white including Gary. This guy had a live-in girlfriend that was a small town 7 at best but she loved to have sex and we were all envious of him. She’s the first woman I had met that openly loved porn. The five or six of us sat around and watched porn one day. We were all about 18-20 years old. I watched the videos with fascination. I had only seen pictures in magazines to this point.

I remember looking over at my friend’s girlfriend to see how she reacted to the videos. She watched cooly with a half smile and bounced her leg while sitting on Gary’s lap. I had never been so horny before. I tried to hide my erection, as I assume we all did. I remember my precum seeping through my shorts and making a visible wet spot. That was quite a while ago and yet I still think about her (whose name I can’t remember) often, at least once a month. Sometimes when I would get frustrated with my wife Elly’s prudish behavior I would think about that girl and wish I had married someone like Gary’s small town 7 instead of a small city 9; although admittedly, I had never met anyone like her and until only recently have only heard about them online.

Before long Gary popped in a new tape (VHS for you young ones), and soon we were all abruptly shocked with a scene of a scroungy black guy banging a dolled-up white woman in doggystyle. I couldn’t see her face or his since the scene was filmed from behind at first. I had never seen a naked black man before. His ass was full and I remember his back was skinny with muscle definition. I have always been undefined in physique even when I was thin and active in sports.

That was only the second time I was confronted with the question of whether black people were genetically superior. The first time was a city track meet I went to in the third grade. I was fast at my school, which was mostly white kids, but when I went to the city-wide race, I got smoked. I got last place, beaten by all the other racers, who were all black. I don’t like to think about that too much, but I think it’s relevant here.

Anyway, this scene was different for another reason. In the other scenes with white men, the women made the exaggerated, fake moaning and cheesy comments like, “Oooh, yeah. Oh, yeah. You fuck my pussy so good!” In this one, though, the woman just groaned and you could see she was in a great deal of pain. This excited me so much and I didn’t know why at the time.

Then, the camera angle shifted to the front and you could see her grimacing and yet her face was alive with wonton pleasure. If I could have pulled out my penis, I would have busted in about 20 seconds. I hated it and I loved it!

Tbh, I’ve been dealing with addiction to that facial expression ever since. I’ve tried all sorts of maneuvers on women, and then for the last 20 years my wife, all to no avail. I’ve gotten some moans, and wonton teasing out of their own horniness, and the occasional dirty talk, which seemed forced, but for the most part I’ve been chasing the high of that woman’s face every since that day. I’ve seen it in amateur interracial porn hundreds of times but never in person until about a year ago.

After a good 10 minutes of banging her – she with white knuckle clinching like she was delivering a baby – the camera angle shifted to the side. This aggressive man pulled out his penis and I could finally see it. His giant cock just came coming out of her, inch after inch of dark, glistening, cream-covered cock slowly relieving the swollen, and likely sore, pussy. I was in awe. I was hooked like I had just been injected with heroine. I had never seen anything like it. It fell down immediately under its own weight and then I really got an idea of just how big it was compared to his body size. I was flushed with a deluge of thoughts about my size. When I jacked off in the mirror in the bathroom, my penis protruded; his looked like a limb.

Shortly after that Gary and his ravenous, wonderful slut went in the bedroom without a word and the rest of us were quiet. We heard them fucking and her screams and it got awkward. Eventually we left and still haven’t talked about it.

Over the coming years since I thought about that man’s penis and always felt inadequate. Without realizing that’s why, I found myself pursing petite women – and ones that were innocent and had little experience. I think subconsciously I didn’t want my women to be comparing me to other men. In fact, all but two of the girls I have had sex with were virgins. That was easy back then; those kind would be harder to find now.

Back then it seemed like the only women that dated black men publicly were overweight and, by the standards of the times, small town 3’s. They seemed desperate. If they had big boobs, some white guys would show interest, but with fat on them and big asses, the conventions of the time said to stay away. giresun escort Black men seemed to fuck anything that would allow them to. They were aggressive and that always made me uncomfortable. Women were to be gently pursued like getting deer to eat out of your hand, not to be scared or mistreated, but honored for the princesses they were.

It also bothered me, again subconsciously, that the women that had sex with black men seemed so satisfied and self-assured, and although we were pretty sure those women were treated poorly, the women seemed to stay with the blacks loyally, even protecting them fiercely when others tried to stay things about the relationship with negative tones. Back then, the race-traitor white women often starting wearing tacky make-up and getting long fingernails (both the nails and lips were painted bright red as if they were peacocking for black men and giving a middle finger to white men.)

But I pushed the thoughts out of the forefront of my mind for years. Looking back I can see how it affected me. I think I became a little racist out of bitterness and maybe some jealousy. I despised the aggressiveness of black men and I also hated the white women that would reward them for it. But, black men had bigger dicks and I knew it, and there was something about them that women liked. I didn’t realize at the time that there was more to it than dick size, and yet simultaneously, I didn’t realize how powerful a big black cock can be to women.

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My husband Dustin is a good man. He loves our kids, he goes out of his way to help people, especially when they need someone to listen or give advice. Everybody seems to love Dustin. Even though he’s not great looking, women have always been drawn, platonically I think, to his funny and caring demeanor. Occasionally I would detect some younger girls casually flirting with him, to which he was oblivious, as only kind-hearted men can be. He wasn’t attractive per se, but he showers me with compliments. I’ve never felt unattractive since I met Dustin. He also serves me by doing much of the house work and rubbing my feet.

Dustin and I have always struggled in the sex department. He has a high libido but he’s not really assertive. He will hint that he wants sex, he harasses me in fun and gentle ways, but he never comes right out and asks for it very often. While I appreciate the gentlemen-like way he treats me like a princess, I don’t like the pressure to reciprocate.

I had never had an active libido. I never knew why until recently. It took some momentum and mental gymnastics to get ready for sex at all, and only in special situations like vacations, or when I’d been drinking too much, did I “need” sex. Even then I hesitated. It always seemed so wrong to allow myself to lust or be sexual. My body was the temple of God not to be defiled.

I feel like Dustin is always wanting more from me than I can give. He wanted me to have an orgasm every time we had sex, but I didn’t feel like it most of the time. Between his overweight body, his passive nature, his self-deprecating statements, and his whatever else, the amount of performance I had to do was exhausting. He wanted me to moan and tell him I loved what he was doing, and have a full-body, convulsing orgasm without using the vibrator, and then smile and cuddle and make him think that was just what I needed. In reality, I needed to do the laundry and I liked to read before bed.

I suppose one of the things that bugged me the most about Dustin is that I knew he watched porn. He tried to get me to watch it several times and I didn’t want to. It was gross and unrealistic to me, and a sin on top of that. I didn’t think God wanted us to watch porn.

I didn’t like the thought of being with other men until recently. I wanted to be Dustin’s and his only and I could never, and still don’t, understand why he would want me to lust after another man. The thought of him with another woman was unappealing to me. She could give him, and then me, a disease or get have an affect on him that would ruin our marriage. What if we started liking the other person more than each other, I thought.

Well, somewhere about five years ago I agreed to watch a little porn with him. We had taken a trip to a bigger nearby city for a getaway and there’s always pressure with Dustin to take our sex to another level on vacation. I hated the porn. It made me sick to my stomach. It was evil and dangerous. I saw it as a threat to our relationship and I didn’t know why he would want to risk getting addicted to it. But out of love for him I acquiesced. He showed me some lesbian porn, which consciously I thought was disgusting, but I’ll admit it made me wet and I’ve thought about it many times since.

Then, as many small decisions yield huge consequences, he clicked on one video that had a white woman sucking on a giant black penis. This thing was scary. I couldn’t believe she yalova escort was trying to force it into her mouth. The girl’s eyes were watering and she was gagging. Eventually after shoving his huge dick in her mouth repeatedly for several minutes, he came in her mouth. There was so much cum it started coming out of her mouth and spilling down her chin and even her neck and the floor. He made her show him the full mouth of cum, and then she swallowed it! The shock of it made me balk and I told him to turn it off. I was disturbed and confused. How could she like that? Why was she trying so hard? How could she humiliate herself like that?

“Is that what you expect from me?” I asked Dustin.

“Well, kind of. I know it’s shocking but I thought it might help you want to give me a blowjob.”

I said, “Why would you want me gagging and coughing? That’s just mean.”

“I watch videos to learn how to please you, Elly. I thought maybe you might like to learn out to do blowjobs better.”

“Well, he forced her head into him and didn’t even let her breathe. I don’t like that stuff, you know that. I don’t like rough stuff and I don’t like it when the woman is treated like an object. I’m not like that girl, Dustin, and I don’t know why you think I would like it!”

What I was afraid of is exactly what happened: a seed had been planted in my mind, a seed of devastation and salvation. I just didn’t know it at the time, so I fought it. When black men were in my dental chair, I didn’t make eye contact with them and I had to purposely resist looking at their crotches or visualizing their cocks.

It got worse slowly over a few years. I started to entertain the beats and lyrics of some mild, radio rap. I found a white stain in my panties the night Dustin took me to the movies to watch Black Panther. I was randomly bombarded with visions of being kidnapped or trapped by a big black man and he would force his giant snake into my little garden while I feigned resistance, which would have been futile anyway.

I kicked the ideas out as soon as I could and I bounced my eyes from black men I saw. I couldn’t even watch sports because so many of the athletes are black.

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Elly is awesome in almost every way. For starters, even though she’s in her early 40s she’s smoking hot. Around 5 foot tall, 115 pounds, “slim thicc” as they say now, she still has my devotion and attention like no one else ever could. I spend probably a cumulative hour a day thinking what I would like to do with her if she would be willing. I get hard when I think of her to this day. But she also won me over because she was so virtuous. She was the definition of a godly woman. She worked hard, didn’t lie, took care of everything in her world (except me), and bore a friendly countenance to everyone she mets. She read her bible and went to women’s small groups and discussed life and faith. She’s an angel. Everyone we know sees that I won the lottery with Elly.

We went to Cancun for our 20th anniversary (we married young), and had a great time. We laughed and flirted with each other and ate and drank like we were rich. It was an all-inclusive resort, so yeah, that was nice! I cannot begin to tell you how hot our sex was. We had sex at least once a day we were there – as opposed to the three times a year at home – and it was good sex, too, not the maintenance kind wives have just to keep their men from leaving. Elly was fun. She smiled the whole time, played along with my sexy questions I always try to use to get her horny, and she even seemed to tried to seduce me, and meant it, unlike usual.

Part of that is because of what happened on the first night there. When I was flipping around the TV, I came across the Playboy Channel, which I didn’t even know was still a thing. There was a show on called Swing. Basically it’s a reality show where several couples stay at a big house for a week or so and try each other out.

When she got out of the shower, I talked her into lying with me on the bed and watching this show. She made a couple sarcastic remarks about it but ultimately went with the flow. After 10-15 minutes, she was surprisingly touchy all of a sudden, rubbing my crotch and snuggling with me. This was a big deal because she usually doesn’t want much physical touch.

By this time in our marriage I had developed an addiction to porn that was frustrating for me as a Christian, with guilt and shame, but for the most part I kept the demon in the basement and only watched videos on occasion. Unfortunately, my fetish that exposed itself stronger and stronger through the years was interracial porn. I couldn’t get past the beauty of the contrast, the dominance, the lusty way the women looked and talked to black men as superiors they Needed, respected, and worshipped. I’ve never seen a woman look at God or another man the way these women looked at their black lovers.

They spit on the African yozgat escort cocks and passionately offer their throats as an offering to their newfound Nubian deities, they swallow cum shots like communion bread from a black priest’s fingers, they surrender their bodies like the zealous martyrs prostrate on a cross, they bounce up when necessary and lie down when desired in obedience to please their visible manifestation of God. In short, the white women aren’t faking it. They are transformed by the renewing of their minds. They need their daily black bread, they thirst for the living semen, and usually they can’t help but go make disciples of other women.

I didn’t know that might soon be my pure-hearted wife.

My racist concern is that soon white men won’t be able to get women at all. Black women already only want black men and it seems that white women are getting more comfortable admitting they only want black men.

How can I watch anything else? Where else can I find that face I’ve been looking for since I first saw that woman with the euphoric grimace on her face at Gary’s trailer? I certainly hadn’t found it in my wife, so I became enraptured by amateur interracial porn.

Lying in bed there in Cancun watching Swing with my smoke show bride rubbing my crotch, I found myself wishing there was a black man in that reality show. I supposed if they had one that was hung, the other men wouldn’t be able to compete. He would be like catnip. As it were, it felt like fiction and not reality. I pulled out my computer and said, “Let’s play a game. Let’s take turns picking a video we think is hot and watch it together.”

“I don’t know. We don’t need that. Let’s just do it now,” Elly said.

“Okay, but humor me a little. Maybe we’ll learn something and then we can try it out.”

“Fine,” she offered, “but nothing too bad.”

I went first and found a video of a woman squirting. It was a professional production so it was cheesy. But, to my surprise, on Elly’s turn she just picked one right under it. She was engaged now. I rubbed her crotch through her panties and she got moist. I amped it up a little on my turn by picking a professional interracial video from Blacked. I picked one of a brunette, hoping my wife could see herself in it and start to like videos of white women finding true pleasure by a black man. I know this seems weird since I just admitted I hate it when white women go black, but there was something about it I was started to lose control over.

I could tell she was affected by the video more than the others. She squirmed more, focused more, she started grinding on the bed a little, inconspicuously of course. She was clearly wonderfully rustled by it.

She was lying on her belly with that delicious ass raised just a little, just enough for me to slide my hand down behind her butt and between her legs and rub on her pussy. I was very slow and gentle to not scare the deer that was eating out of my hand. I saw her lick her lips a little and she squirmed and grinded on my hand. Suddenly she shut the laptop and said, “We don’t need this.” Without exaggeration, I’ve never felt a pussy so wet or imagine it was possible. I’ve heard it a little I guess on videos when the woman’s pussy would make the sloshing sound after it was stretched during sex, but again, it was produced and probably with lube. When my olive-skinned idol undressed quickly and pounced on me, I can remember being shocked by the hot, welcoming, and dripping wet pussy of my good Christian wife.

I nutted within five minutes, which is rare for me. Normally I can’t cum until I give in and imagine a white woman getting railed by an aggressive and imposing black stud. She came, too, with a little rubbing of the clit while she furiously rode my dick. There would be no marathon for that session.

A little later we walked down by the beach and took in a free performance by a dancing group of local tradition. We stopped by a bar and had another drink or two.

My mind was racing when we got back to the hotel room. Could I get her to watch more videos? I didn’t want to push too hard.

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Dustin knew what buttons to push to make my body do things I didn’t want it to back then. He could make me have a clitoral orgasm anytime I let him. He could also give me g-spot orgasms with his fingers, but not his penis. I hated myself every time I would finish because I felt so dirty. It seemed so ungodly and Dustin always pushed me to try things I didn’t want to be associated with. I’m certain my other lady friends weren’t giving up their asses or deepthroating their husbands.

Back at the hotel we watched another episode of Swing that happened to be on again for some reason; then we talked about what other couples we would swing with if we had to. Normally I’m opposed to talking about stuff like that. It was a sin and I didn’t think it was healthy to dwell on it. And I didn’t want to swing at all, but for some reason I allowed the dirty fantasizing that night and ended up making a huge, magnanimous, life-altering mistake. I admitted in the course of the mutual honesty that I, with the right couple, might be willing to double date and flirt as if I was interested in swinging. We both agreed that we would not go through with it. I knew Dusting was lying but whatever.

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