A Slutwife Named Sara - Confession

I am in my late-thirties and live in Dallas, Texas. The year was 2014 when I began my journey into wanting to get taken by a black man; it was when I had the utmost desire to become a slutwife.

My husband was the one who inspired me on this journey. He had always had an obsession with interracial porn, and like that, I became enticed to watch alongside him. I inevitably got hooked, and we then began incorporating interracial/cuckold fantasies into our love life. Joe, my husband, purchased me black dildos, including anal beads for me to play with. I would spend adequate time sucking my dildo while fingerfucking my pussy until I’m wet enough to insert the dildo into my cunt. My orgasms would explode within minutes of me fucking myself while Joe would stand beside the bed and take photos of me writhing in climax. It was quite a lot of fun.

As it turns out, this elevated my curiosity when I decided I wanted to try a real one for the fun of it. Joe was surprised that I made a request before he even asked. I figured, why fool around when this was clearly what he desired me to do?

Weeks passed, but we found ourselves chatting with someone who said he could give me what I desired; Joe’s only option was that he wanted to be there to watch, and the man agreed to accommodate that wish. The man’s name was Quincy (not his real name, actually), and he demanded that I take several photos of myself and send them to him to get a better look at me. I did as he requested, and he agreed to set up a date.

 We met at a bar called The Crafty Irishman located in downtown Dallas. Quincy was a handsome fellow; even Joe approved when he saw him. We hugged and exchanged handshakes, then sat down and ordered drinks while we got to know each other. He was quite an easy talker. I’ll admit that I wanted to know a lot about him: if I was his first white woman to have sex with, or how many he’d had before meeting me. I was also curious about his cock. I kept glancing at his pants as if expecting his erection to jump out suddenly. Such wasn’t the case, thank God, but it was fun getting to know him up until when we decided to make it to the hotel where Joe had made reservations.

His cock was magnificent; it was everything I thought it would be. His girth was broad and thick, far thicker than my husband’s.

I turned around the moment the door shut behind us, dropped to my knees, and began caressing his thighs and crotch; I acted like a pro who knew already what she wanted. Quincy unzipped his fly and let me wiggle inside to unearth his manpower. His cock was amazing, nearly the length of my arm. I loved the feel of it when it came to life in my mouth. Joe perched himself on a chair and watched.

Quincy kept talking to me the entire time, guiding me on how best to suck his cock. He never stopped murmuring about how good I was doing, or that I should pay attention to his balls. He told me to spit on his cock . . . play with his balls . . . turn to Joe and tell him what a fucking whore-wife I was. He called me all sorts of filthy names: slut . . . cunt . . . fucking Texas whore . . . I couldn’t help but love it.

He made me stop so he could get me out of my clothes. I retreated to the bed, waiting for him to get out of his clothes before joining me. I spread my legs for him, expecting him to get down to fucking right away, but he took a moment to eat my pussy instead, getting me further wet, before coming to his knees and guiding his cock into my pussy.

His cock was magnificent; it was everything I thought it would be. His girth was broad and thick, far thicker than my husband’s. Even Joe admitted this afterwards when we returned home. Feeling his cock stretch me felt like I was taking my black dildo for the first time; I could almost feel Quincy’s cock stretching me further towards my heart. I was gasping and whimpering like I was burning inside.

My body temperature went up like I was having an orgasmic fever. I kept pleading for him to stop. Quincy never stopped, not once. He kept feeding me his cock harder and harder. My thighs shook like I was having a seizure.

Quincy came not longer than he had begun. He had been fucking me for nearly ten minutes; it felt like an hour. I ejaculated on my abdomen. I went into the bathroom to wash up, then came and cleaned his cock with my mouth. Joe watched, mesmerised by what he saw us do.

We fucked a second round and then decided to call it a night. Quincy showered and left while Joe and I slept fitfully like never before. Morning arrived, and we left the room and drove home.

I thought that would be the last time I heard from Quincy. We continued exchanging messages, though I never told Joe about it. Weeks passed before I agreed to meet him again. He invited me to his apartment near Oak Cliff. I never told Joe where I was going, nor did he have any idea till this day of my ongoing relationship with Quincy. Not that he has bothered about asking me; I probably would have lied if he suspected anything.

At one point, I felt like fighting him off as I was having too much goodness in his cock, and it was driving me crazy.

Quincy took the gloves off when we entered his bedroom. He attacked me even as I was halfway out of my clothes, bent me over his bed and nearly ripped my panties off while he ate my pussy and asshole from behind. I was breathing heavily as I did in our previous encounter. There was a hunger in him this time that was unlike previous. He unzipped his fly and shoved his cock inside me. It was barely hard, but that took several seconds before he began pounding me harder. I pulled at the sheets, and he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head backwards while still fucking me hard.

He let me go, and it was then I realised I’d been holding my breath like I was starving myself from acknowledging the onslaught of him fucking me. Quincy wasted no time getting out of his clothes and then jumped into bed after me. At one point, I felt like fighting him off as I was having too much goodness in his cock, and it was driving me crazy. Quincy stayed relentless. He gripped me so I couldn’t escape, locked his arm over my thighs while we stayed in a spoon position, and kept thrusting deep inside me. I climaxed multiple times that day, more than I’d ever had.

Quincy didn’t stop murmuring in my ear while he fucked me, telling me that I was his bitch henceforth. I was his slut, his whore to use however I want. He forbid me from telling Joe about our meeting. He said I was his slutwife and nothing would change that.

For everything he said, my response was yes . . . yes . . . FUCK, YES!