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A White Couple and the Truth

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A husband's cuckold kink changes his wife and their world.
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If you're offended by race play, don't read this story.

*

Clay's words:

Without realizing it, I think our current situation in marriage actually started back in my friend Gary's trailer many years ago where me and some friends would hang out. The five or six of us sat around and watched porn one day. We were all about 18-20 years old. Gary had a live-in girlfriend that was a small town seven at best but she loved to have sex and we were all envious of him. She was the first woman I had met that openly loved porn. I watched the videos with fascination. I had only seen pictures in magazines to that 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 Nan's prudish behavior I would think about that girl. But I didn't think too much about it at the time, because it wasn't until recently that I found out there were women like her in real life. I had only heard about them and dreamt about them. Full disclosure... I used to fantasize and jack off thinking that my wife's goody good friends and fellow wives were secret, ravenous sluts. But that's for another time.

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 black guy banging a dolled-up white woman in doggy style. 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 and his skin was shiny with sweat. I have always been undefined in physique even when I was thin and active in sports.

Anyway, this scene was different for another reason. In the other scenes women usually make 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 wanton 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 whiniing 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 ever 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 the dollish slut in and out in hypnotizing undulation - she with white knuckle clinching like she was delivering a baby - the camera angle shifted to the side. This aggressive man pulled out his cock and I could finally see it. His giant cock just kept 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 hung.

Shortly after that, Gary and his carnivorous, 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. Did she really sit during the parts with white couples, but head to the bedroom after seeing that black man? Eventually we left and still haven't talked about it.

Over the coming years since I thought about that man's cock 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.

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 for a while 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'm not tempted by those thoughts anymore. I'm a big believe that God has his reasons for everything, and he probably gave black men bigger dicks to compensate them for all the shit they would have to deal with.

———————————————————————————————————————

Nan's words:

My husband Clay 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 Clay. 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 Clay.

Clay 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 initiate.

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 felt like Clay was always wanting more from me than I could 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 Clay 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 either. I wanted to be Clay'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 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 Clay 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 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 Clay.

"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, Nan. 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, Clay, 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 waiting room, I didn't make eye contact with them and I had to purposely resist looking at their crotches or visualizing their penises. 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 Clay 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.

———————————————————————————————————————

Clay:

Nan is awesome in almost every way. For starters, even though she's in her early 40s, she's smoking hot. She's around 5 foot tall, 115 pounds, "slim thicc" as they say now. She's been called "cute" about a thousand times in her life and she despises that word. But, 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 met. She read her bible and went to women's small groups and discussed life and faith. She was an angel.

Everyone we know sees that I won the lottery with Nan. Unfortunately for me, she had always been cold to me. To be brief, if she had a dog's tail, it wouldn't wag when I came around.

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. Nan 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 try 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 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.

In short, the white women aren't faking it. I didn't know that might soon be my pure-hearted and pure-minded wife.

How can I watch anything other than amateur interracial? Where else can I find that face I've been looking for since I first saw that woman with the euphoric grimace at Gary's trailer? I certainly hadn't found it in my wife.

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 who was hung, 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," Nan 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 Nan'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 used to hate it when white women go black. That was a long time ago though, back before I had seen what I've seen now.

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. Nan raised that delicious ass 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 wife.I nutted within five minutes, which is rare for me. 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.

——————————————————————————————————————-

Nan:

Clay 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 Clay 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, so I didn't either.

Back at the hotel we watched another episode of Swing that happened to be on; 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 male in the marriage, 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 Clay was lying but whatever.

The rest of the trip was beyond awesome. I didn't have to be mom, or house cleaner, or employee, or anything other than a queen in her castle with a built-in manservant pleasuring me at my whim. I took advantage of that for the rest of the trip, having 9 orgasms in the next three days, and I squirted for the first time just like the tacky woman in the video. I felt dirty but strangely liberated a little. This stuff wasn't so bad after all, I thought. Man, if it just wasn't a sin.

I wouldn't have admitted it until recently, but the reason I came so easily that whole week and writhed in pleasure like a slutty porn star was because I kept thinking about that black man in the video. The way he just took control and the way she submitted to him. Wow! She was starving for that big black dick. Could it really be that good? He gave it to her in her mouth, in her kitty, and in every position, including a few I had never even thought about. That wasn't surprising though, because I seldom let myself fantasize, usually only when I was getting over the edge to orgasm, and even then I fought it.

Whenever I would think about the prone position ones, my coochie got vacuous and hungry. Sometimes after that video I would visualize myself under that black man with my tushy pushed up and him planking over me pounding down and, at that angle, hitting my g-spot. I didn't want to visualize it, it just happened and still does!

Over the next couple years, Clay got more daring. Considering he had been a little racist when he was younger, it confounded me. I wondered, Why would he want me to lust after a black man when he thinks women that like black men are carnivorous sluts?" I had heard him say such things like that back then, not in those words, but still.

In every area of life, he worships me. He sometimes writes me poetry, we always watches the TV show or movies I want to, he seems to live to give me orgasms. He's obsessed with it. And yet, he made it clear by his actions that he fantasized about me being available for black men.



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