M
michiganMWF
Guest
This is a story about my first time cheating on my husband, and my first time with black men. It happened last summer.
My husband and I went on vacation to Mackinac Island with another couple we know. When we got there, I was surprised to see how many of the hotel and island staff were not only black, but African immigrants. I spoke to some of the women working in the hotel and they said a number of immigrants came there for work.
We were staying there for a week, and I began to look more and more at the young African men. Their skin was very dark, much darker than the African American men in our town. It was a hot week in Michigan, with the humidity very high. The men were all dressed professionally, but it was hard not to see their obviously large bulges through their shorts.
I began having dreams about the African men, and would wake up wet and very very horny. My husband was very happy about my morning mood, too. On the third day there, I knew I needed to do something before my lust drove me crazy. I faked a headache and let the others take a day trip around the island. It was still early morning when they left, and I was in my short white silk robe.
I called the front desk, saying there was something wrong with my bathroom faucet. They sent up one of the African workers, a young man I had seen a few times during the week. As he worked, I stood by him, asking if I could help. He spoke broken English, but I knew I was getting to him as my robe became more and more undone. I pretended not to notice as he kept glancing back at me. He got so flustered that he dropped one of the wrenches he had brought. I knelt down to get it and he turned, putting me face to crotch with the biggest bulge I had ever seen.
More to come, if you like my story so far. (Gotta go, my husband just pulled up in the driveway.)
My husband and I went on vacation to Mackinac Island with another couple we know. When we got there, I was surprised to see how many of the hotel and island staff were not only black, but African immigrants. I spoke to some of the women working in the hotel and they said a number of immigrants came there for work.
We were staying there for a week, and I began to look more and more at the young African men. Their skin was very dark, much darker than the African American men in our town. It was a hot week in Michigan, with the humidity very high. The men were all dressed professionally, but it was hard not to see their obviously large bulges through their shorts.
I began having dreams about the African men, and would wake up wet and very very horny. My husband was very happy about my morning mood, too. On the third day there, I knew I needed to do something before my lust drove me crazy. I faked a headache and let the others take a day trip around the island. It was still early morning when they left, and I was in my short white silk robe.
I called the front desk, saying there was something wrong with my bathroom faucet. They sent up one of the African workers, a young man I had seen a few times during the week. As he worked, I stood by him, asking if I could help. He spoke broken English, but I knew I was getting to him as my robe became more and more undone. I pretended not to notice as he kept glancing back at me. He got so flustered that he dropped one of the wrenches he had brought. I knelt down to get it and he turned, putting me face to crotch with the biggest bulge I had ever seen.
More to come, if you like my story so far. (Gotta go, my husband just pulled up in the driveway.)
