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going for it

  • Thread starterThinkingAbout It
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ThinkingAbout It

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Jun 24, 2004
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(a story of the first time that has yet to come...the early parts are as true as is possible without identifying ourselves, the encounter is yet in the future and is as imagine it being)


For a few years now I had been plying my wife with bedroom talk of sharing her with well hung black men. I honestly can't remember where I first got the idea...the fetish seems to have sprang into my mind fully developed. But once it did, I began to ever so gradually whisper to my very conservative (sexually) wife bits of stories of extra large cocks taking her places she'd never been. After a while I would note in passing that they were black cocks. Still later I would allude to the possibility of more than one.

On and on the stories would become more detailed, more elaborate, and more and more, the role she played in the imaginary scenarios was one of a good girl who had become a complete slut.

I should tell you at this point that we once had an active, if ordinary, sex life but over the course of time, she began treatment, via medication, for clinical depression. One after another we found these drugs, while effective for their stated purpose, were very able to also depress her sex-drive.
I found, during this time, that on some occasions the only way to get her juices flowing and her passion building was to tell her my stories of watching her taken by a black man (or men).

By the beginning of this year, my descriptions, while varying in the details, were very specific and as realistic to our station in life as I could make them. I wanted her to be able to actually picture herself experiencing the events I described, so I would never mention her getting high (which she would never do) or anything that was not part of our lifestyle.

Then, to my amazement, everything changed.

A few months ago, her doctor encouraged her to switch to the latest new anti-depressant. For two weeks or more she was miserable as her body adjusted to the new chemical, but then, as if from some long hibernation, her minimal sex drive woke up. BOY did it wake up! My 36 year old wife of 17 years was like some refugee from "Girls Gone Wild" in terms of her interest in sex.
Well, no, I exaggerate a bit. She still was no big fan of giving head, and still had no interest in trying the taste of my cum, but the difference was so great that I find it hard not to exaggerate.
Not only that, but she became more dedicated about exercise and began to slightly firm up the small pounce she had left from the birth of two children. She's never been heavy, of course, but from her top weight just over 120 she was down soon to about 115. And she carried that well on her 5'3" frame. When we had married she had weighed 100 pounds and was too thin in places, now, most of the sharp edges were rounded off and I suspected her C cups were trending into D territory. Furthermore, over the last year she had grown out her hair and gotten some highlights and that alone made her look far younger than she had just a year ago.

All this, of course, was pleasant enough for any man...but imagine my surprise when my "good girl" (and she really was a pretty inhibited girl when it came to sex) suddenly started doing something she'd never done before - initiating the conversations about big black dicks.
!!
[to be continued]
 
[continued]

Needless to say, with her displaying such overt interest, I immediately ramped up my attempts to indoctrinate her into the lifestyle.

I should mention here, that besides being sexually conservative (with the exception that she could be persuaded to enjoy the occasional anal) she was both a tom-boy, and conservative in her manner of dress. So much so that dresses were for church only, shorts were for home only, and if she did HAVE to wear a skirt, pantie hose were a must. I can't tell you how often I worked on that last but, with the exception of one abortive foray into stockings and garters, to no avail. Also, despite my repeated pleas, she would not shave her genital area, and she would not color her hair (beyond highlights). One of my other fetishes was redheads. But try as I might she flatly refused to go red. Or blond.

along the way, the last few years, I had done a little, beyond the bedroom, to promote the BBC fantasy. I made up an anonymous e-mail address and e-mailed her [photos of BBCs which she only rarely looked at if I called them up and showed them to her. I showed her some of the better IR erotic story sites but she seldom paid them any mind. About the only think that made headway was when I bought her a lifelike 8" dildo....black of course. THAT seemed to get plenty of use.

Now, my newly amorous wife was hinting that I needed to bring home some porn movies, bringing up the idea of doing a BBC - even outside the bedroom - and nothing that I could say to promote the idea to her was too outrageous to bring a sly smile to her face. The idea of her being a slut is now not only not something that shocks her, but in fact appears to be exactly what she wants.

So I returned to some sites I had been to on my own, with what I had thought then were nothing but fantasies, and mentioned in various places that my wife was ready to try in real life what we had fantasized about for years. I got her a Yahoo account and encouraged her to invite the attention of potential lovers who would be be anxious to be the first BBC to "break her in" and turn her from good girl to cum-slut.

Soon, while I watch with rock-hard approval, she was chatting away with black bulls who wanted her attention, and lusting openly after the photos that came her way showing her what the man had in store for her.

She was letting me take the lead in bringing together the details of her first encounter - still months away, so we thought. but she was steady in her willingness to see it through...even to the point of agreeing to pose for revealing photos if I could come up with a good digital camera.

It was just a matter of time before she would discover her true self.

[to be continued]
 
[continued]

One of her first remarks, since regaining her interest, was the idea of getting some porn. I asked if she meant IR porn and she smiled wickedly and asked "What do you think?" Her previous toy had worn out and so, when i got paid, I slipped into the city and picked up a couple of Diesel DVDs, a new nine-incher, and a six pack of wine coolers (she had not drank in years but, to my amazement, was now openly agreeable to having a few drinks in the course of feeding her newfound need.

That weekend was amazing, or as amazing as it can be when you are trying to keep your two sons from knowing you are obsessed with sex. It seemed to convince her, once and for all, that she was going to have to get a real BBC soon, no matter what it took...andthe first thing it took was finding a way to get out of town.

For nights after the movies came home, I would suggest wickedly to her that we drive down to a relatively nearby black neighborhood with her dressed only in a silk robe and she could wonder if, when we saw a black man I would simply pull over and offer her to him. This made her incredibly hot, and only our stated desire to make a big production out of her first time kept her from actually giving in to the idea.

Meanwhile, on-line, at least three different black bulls had expressed an interest in meeting us in a nearby suburb and fulfilling her desires. I made a point, this time without her knowledge, of expressing to each man the details of the fantasy story that I had most often used to turn her on over the years. It was not, perhaps, the scene I would have most liked to have watched played out, but when compromising for safety and not doing outrageously stupid things, it was the one I liked best.

Any man who wanted to break in my wife would need to be willing to "play the part" as I laid it out. All of them agreed that it sounded exciting and all were obviously excited at the prospect of being the man who "turned" my wife.

While I'll save the details for later, we laid certain ground rules: no relationships...this would be strictly one-night-stand, no pain...other than occasional spanks or hair pulls for effect, no permanent effects...he couldn't take her out for a big "I love BBC" tattoo on her tits. all that remained, was the details of scheduling.

I had originally planned to set her up on her birthday but it was some 2 months away and I felt the iron would never be hotter. so I moved it up one month to our anniversary (we needed the excuse to get out of town without arousing suspicion) and in the process, helped narrow the field of interested Bulls. One of the three was free that weekend, and we set a date and reserved a room in the city of choice.

I was tremendously excited not only because of her enthusiasm, but also because I had broadly outlined the "roles" we would play with her potential lover and I was already anticipating her reaction at each turning point.

Right up until the very day, I was almost too afraid to hope she would go through with the meet up...and she was unusually quite as we made our way to the town where we would meet.

"You are sure this is not cheating?" she would ask.
"Cheating implies deception," I replied.
"You're not going to get mad at me?"
"How can I get mad when it was my idea? Actually, I worry a bit that it's you who will resent me."
"I do too," she replied.
"Really?"
"Yeah...but not enough to make me back out."
"Just remember I trust you. Think of this as nothing but recreation, no more important to our love than playing tennis or bowling with a friend."

We got to our room, and checked in. She went to prepare herself for the evening and I was well pleased when she came out in her best Little Black Dress, and hiked it enough for me to see that her nude stockings in place and her crotch was covered with nothing but sheer panties.

That, was a good sign.

She reached into the mini-fridge and took out one of the wine coolers we had brought with us, looked at me, and said "let's do it."
 
We got to the restaurant just a couple of minutes late and were directed to a corner booth where a man who had identified himself to us as Marcus waited. I allowed her to slip in beside him and then followed her.

I won't bore you with the details of the conversation but by the time I was finishing my meal, they appeared to all the world as a couple. His hand was high on her thigh, and she was leaning slightly against his shoulder, obviously enjoying the attention. At this point, Marcus gently sat her up and removed his hand.

"Eve," he said, "the time has come for decision. I would like to be the man who shows you a side of yourself you have not known before, and with your permission, I intend to do that tonight - but I must do so on my terms."

She smiled slyly and said "So you're sure I'm going to let you?"
"I think so, but you are always free to decline - are you saying you don't want this to happen?"
"Oh no!" she burst out and then, realizing she had given away the ability to be coy, smiled and continued "I never said that."

"Well then," he continued, "you need to know my terms. I like women who know their place, and know mine. I'm not her to romance you, or build some emotional connection. I'm here to fuck you. Your place is to be fucked. I don't like to be told 'no' and don't intend to put up with it from a girl I'm fucking, do you understand?"

She squirmed a bit, clearly his commanding tone was having the desired effect, "I think so."

"Don't 'think' girl, KNOW. Because there's no turning back. Here's what you need...a contract. A symbol of what you are getting into. And I have just the idea. If you want me to turn you tonight, I want you to take off your panties and give them to me"

Her smile only broadened as she immediately began to wiggle about trying to get them off. She was fortunate that being in the middle of a corner booth she was somewhat hidden from view but i noted with interest that she did not pause to see who was watching.

Upon getting them off, she boldly proffered them to Marcus. At this moment, the waitress came to clear away the plates and her eyes widened considerably at the scene, but Marcus and i both noted the bemused smile the young white girl left with.
when she appeared, my wife had let the panties fall on the table in front of Marcus and there they lay as he continued, "Don't be so quick to offer. If I pick these up, they are your signal, your promise to me that you may refuse me nothing until I return them to you. I OWN your ass as surely as if I had paid cash money for it. Are you sure that's what you are agreeing to? if not, take them back now while you still can."

She stared at them for a long long moment, looked at me, then back at Marcus and reached out and took the panties....and placed them squarely in his hand and wrapped his fingers in a fist around them.

"Let's go then" he said. Looking at me he said "I'll let her ride with you to the hotel, then we'll take my car to the club.

When we got to the car she said "The club?"
"Beats me," I said, "but you got on this coaster, you might as well enjoy the ride."
"Reaching under her skirt and stroking her now bare pussy, she murmured almost to herself, "I don't think that's going to be a problem."
 
What are you wiating for? Let's have the rest!
 
My mind was racing as I followed his taillights down the road. So far there had been no hitch in the agenda I had laid out and I began to allow myself to hope that all would be completed. You see, my fantasies for turning out my wife had, as I've said, always been rather elaborate...but they were also quite ambitious. My goal was not, and never had been, simply to enjoy a one time erotic encounter between my pale skinned wife and a coal-dark stranger, nor had it been to just "loosen her up" a little.

No, almost from day one what my main goal had been was for her to be, in my bed and everywhere else, a complete and total nymphomaniac slut. In fact, it's almost certain, now that I think of it, that the fascination with turning her on to BBC goes back to some latent stereotype that nothing in the world defines a white girl as a slut any more than an addiction to fucking black men.
I wanted my wife to arrive at a state where she had difficulty getting through a simple household chore like washing the cloths without getting distracted by thoughts of being fucked. To be so horny that even a trip to the toilet was an almost irresistible opportunity to finger herself to orgasm. I wanted her to be so interested in getting as much sex as possible that it showed in everything from the way she talked to the way she dressed...or undressed for that matter. I wanted her so sex obsessed that a simple trip to Wal-Mart meant finding a short skirt, losing her panties, pulling on a top that invited guys to look down her cleavage and - most of all - speculating on the cock-size of every black man she laid eyes on. In the world I envisioned, luring some young black stud out to the parking lot for a quick blow job would be a regular occurrence.
And yes, as for me, I wanted her so horny that she could not get through a day without sucking my dick, and that ever time we were alone together was a potential opportunity to grab a quick fuck.

The key to all this, it seemed, was that she enjoy this encounter, and those that followed, not just on a physical level, but that on some intangible level she like the role she was cast in - that of a girl who's only purpose and only interest was to be fuck by a BBC. If she could be excited as much by "playing the slut" as by the actual penetration of her pussy then maybe I had a chance to have everything I had hoped (without ever really believing it possible) for come to pass.

When we arrived at the hotel and confirmed with him that we had a tenth floor room already waiting on us, he started "the game" in earnest.

"Hey slut" he said to my wife.
"Yes?"
"Yes. Sir."
"Yes sir?"
"You want to shed those stockings and leave them here. Lose the bra too, if you are wearing one. The less clothes you have where we are going, the better I'll like it."
This was her first small test because I had told him she had never went out bare-legged. After only the slightest hesitation, she peeled first one, then the other, and tossed them in our car. After replacing the heels, she seemed a bit hesitant.
"You wearing a bra, slut?"
"Yes sir."
"The take it off...here."
We were standing between the two vehicles in the back parking lot, but it was an ******* position in which she could have been seen had anyone looked. She reached back and pulled down the zipper on the silky dress and folded it down enough to ****** the black satin bra. Unhooking the clasp, she shook it off and tossed it to me. She was smiling at him as she clearly relished her first ******** to his appreciate view, her nipples began to harden in the Autumn air, but not because of the mild temperatures. When she pulled the top of the dress back into position and reached for the zipper, it was clear that her nipples would be plainly visible against the sheer material.

He walked slowly over to her and brushed the palm of his hands against the stiff nipples. she shuddered visibly and he leaned overto kiss her neck which made her lean hard into his chest.

Looking up he tossed me the keys and said, "You drive. I'll show you where to go."
[to be continued]
 
As I followed his directions to the club, it was only natural that I would set the rear-view mirror so that I could see what was happening in the back of his big Navigator.

They were clearly operating as a couple now - his hand slid up and down her inner thigh, going far enough to brush against her bare crotch but never lingering long. His mouth kissing her neck and upper chest, wandering on occasion to her lips where the engaged in a long, tongue entwined kiss. Her left hand in his lap, squeezing his cock through the fabric of his pants. At one point he stopped kissing long enough to move his fingers high enough to brush through her pubic hair "You know," he murmured loud enough for me to here, "black men don't like hairy pussy's. I expect you to have this smooth by the next time after tonight that a black man has your cunt wrapped around his cock.
She had brought with her the wine cooler she had collected from our car. this was her third drink now, or forth. Given her usual lack of alcohol consumption, she was definitely buzzing by now.

When we arrived at the club, she held tightly too him for balance and, had i not been on hand, no one would have mistaken them for anything less than a couple. We went inside and down the steps to a basement club which turned out to be quite small. There were maybe 40-50 patrons, probably 35 of them male....and no other whites in the room. to my surprise, Marcus walked over to the DJ and greeted him, holding Eve's hand at his side the whole time. While they made small talk, I looked around in the murky dearness enough to see a great many eyes on my barely dressed little hot wife.

After a moment, the DJ passed a wireless mike to Marcus who began to speak to the crowd.

"Just given you a heads up guys. I know all of you are looking at this hot little slut standing here bedside me. She our for her very first taste of black cock tonight and I'm the lucky nigger that's gonna break her in. Therefore, just so you know, she's not available here tonight. You can look, you can touch, but no part of your dick goes into no hole she's got...at least not THIS time."

Eve's jaw had dropped, but she was also halfway smiling. We walked over to a booth and ordered drinks and waited. Sure enough, one stud after another lined up for some dancing petting and my non-dancing wife readily agreed.
 
You tell a story well!!! Please continue!!!!
 
True or not its a great story. I hope you add to it.
 
True or not

its every white man's fantasy. Great story don't stop now.
 
Every moment of her life will soon be one long mind bender of addiction to BBC, I can see the addiction gushing into her life like a raging bull. No way of stopping what has been set in motion. Another white pussy in training camp.
 
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