Welllll … . no … . That picture was taken on our tenth anniversary.
Over the years of our marriage, hubby had told me several times he had fantasies of me being with a black man. I never really thought much about it. You know how men are when they’ve been away for a week or ten days, they are horny as a little bunny rabbit.
Then about a month before our anniversary, he told me that he wanted to give me something that he had been thinking about for a long long time.
He asked me things like, “If I gave you something, would you accept it without second guessing it?” Or, “How would you like to help me do something on my bucket list?” These questions were always asked right after we had enjoyed a really wonderful love making session.
I enjoyed our love making, the intimacy, the sensual touching, the caring loving way he touched me. But I also, looking back, never really did let myself ‘Go.’ You know, I never really had … experienced … an orgasm.
I guess I should also tell you that until he told me that he was taking me on a week long vacation … he called it a second honeymoon … I hadn’t thought much about our anniversary. You know how it is, ten years, things are getting same-o same-o, day after day.
I didn’t notice when my wedding dress went missing from my closet. It was hung way back in the furtherest recesses.
But sure enough, Hubby made sure that I got the full week off at work. So did he. And the day before our anniversary, off we flew to Jamaica.
We arrived, warm sun, beautiful ocean, people with big happy grins, gorgeous dark skin, and wine. We had our own little house, three bedroom, two bath, cottage to stay in. A beautiful garden with mood lighting. It was incredible!
My husband told me that he had planned a party for the next evening. If I had been less happy, I guess I might have questioned him more about it.
Hubby had scheduled me for a massage, a pedi, a manicure, my hair getting done (he told the hair stylist he wanted my hair up, just like it had been on our wedding day. He even showed her pictures.)
When I came back to our little getaway, he took me in his arm, kissed me, told me how much he loved me, how much I meant to him, how glad he was that I was his wife.
Then he said, “Darling, I’ve arranged a party that will help me do something on my bucket list. Will you work with me to make it happen?”
How could I say no to anything after the incredible day I had just been given? I said, “Of course, honey! WhatEVER you want.”
Seven men later, my wedding dress covered in their sperm, my poor bunni so dilated that it seemed to be as large as a wind tunnel, and our room full of black men, waiting for their shot into my gaping, married white cunt, I had my very first orgasm. Hubby had ten more men there to pleasure me. And every one of them did, several times.
My party lasted for six days. All seventeen men stayed with us the whole time. Really nice guys. No thugs, no assholes (I mean personality wise), just genuine courteous but horny, dominant black men. I was pampered, bathed, massaged, caressed, and thoroughly fucked every day.
I cum at the drop of a hat now, so to speak. I am no longer a sexually repressed, hung up, white woman that wonders what’s so great about sex. No, now I know what I want, and how to get it, and have the incredibly loving support of the most wonderful husband in the world.
Posts
