Unfaithful wife black man fantasy

“I’ve been looking at porn,” Monica breathes.

There’s no need to ask what kind. I know my wife’s tastes.

“Have you?” I say with a chuckle.

Her eyes shine with inner excitement as she sucks on her lower lip and gives me the innocent look, which still works despite her being forty-nine years old.

Monica nods and says, “Yes.”

To which I reply, while trying to ignore her bare breasts, “And I suppose you’ve been wanking?”

She sighs, boobs doing that little jiggle which always raises my cock. “With my biggest, blackest dildo,” she purrs. Monica’s eyes tease me while she hefts her big tits and teases those thick teats with the tips of her fingers. “I’m creamy,” she adds, head canted to one side.

“And horny?”

Monica’s cheeks balloon as she blows out a lungful of air, need cracking her tone when she replies. “So fucking horny … I want you to fuck me.”

I play along with her game, although I’m already hard and yearning to sink into my wife up to my balls. “Show me what you were doing,” I growl, resisting the urge to yank out my cock and start tugging.

“I can’t do that!” Monica says, eyes going wide as she pretends to be appalled at the suggestion.

“But I want to see it. I want to watch.”

“Really?” she asks on a low moan as she squirms around and slips a hand down between her legs.

I make a comment about the geometrically precise triangle down there. “You’ve trimmed your bush; it looks gorgeous like that.”

Monica glances down, thrusting her pelvis forward, chin on chest as she examines herself. She splays her labia, holding the meaty petals apart, the oversized nub of her clit catching my focus.

“I really am so fucking horny,” my wife breathes, diddling her bean.

“Then show me what you were doing.” I tell her again, “I want to watch,” because I know that’s what she wants me to say.

“You do?” she replies, big eyes fixed on my face while Monica feigns reluctance.

“Play the game, too,” I say to my wife. “Make it dirty. Coming home to you like this has given me a raging hard-on. I’m in the mood for it as filthy as you can make it, Monica. It’s the holiday soon…”

“I know,” Monica breathes, gulping down on whatever it is she’s feeling. “I can’t wait.”

And I know she can’t wait, that’s the reason she met me at the door stark naked. That’s why she’s been looking at smut and fucking herself with one of her dildos.

“You go and get started,” I tell her. “I’ll come upstairs in a second or two.”

I watch her buttocks tremble as she hip-sways away, desire for my wife bubbling up. Monica’s mother is English, her dad an Iranian, the combination of genes giving my wife’s skin a Middle-Eastern colouring, her hair so black its almost blue, her eyes deep brown pools. Her shape is utterly feminine: lovely big boobs and rounded buttocks to counterbalance their weight, her waist – not as tight as it was, after all, she is almost fifty – sweeping inwards before swelling out to her hips, her legs toned and shapely.

I go to the kitchen and draw a pint glass of water, taking my time so Monica will be well on her way by the time I reach the door to the bedroom.

When the glass is drained, I make my way up the stairs, going quietly to help create the illusion Monica is alone in the house – alone in the house with her lover.

I asked for it filthy. Monica obliged.

By the time I snuck along the landing, I could hear her groaning out her desire, the words indistinct until I got up close. I paused just outside the door, daring to take a quick look around the jamb, finding my wife on our bed, legs wide, her fingers working her sex.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, my opportunity to sneak into the room, where I then moved to the chair by the window.

I glanced at the television and saw what Monica had been watching, her choice in pornography just what I’d expected.

“My husband wouldn’t like it if he knew you were here,” Monica mumbled. She had her eyes open and was looking at me, her words directed to her fantasy man.

I watched as her attention went to the screen, her chest hitching as she let out a groan, one hand sneaking under the pillow to pull out the dildo of choice – one which represented Monica’s mood. One which showed what she wanted to do while on our ten-day holiday.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Monica crooned. “Not when I’m naked. You shouldn’t be looking.”

I gulped on the curious mix of emotions, the jealousy at what I knew she’d be doing when we hit the Caribbean swirling with dark arousal at seeing my wife live out her fantasy.

“You shouldn’t be taking off your clothes, either,” went on Monica, her eyes set of the scene on the screen. “Oh dear,” she added, her tone low and curdled with lust. “I didn’t realise you’d be so big…”

My wife stroked the dildo, fisting its length like she was wanking a cock.

“No,” she said to the image she had in her mind. “I can’t suck it. My husband…”

But then she licked the length of the thing, tongue going up from the moulded balls to its tip, her lips pursed round the cock-head while she slid her fingers through vulva slippery with need.

“If my husband comes in and finds us…” Monica gasped, then made a show over sucking the dildo, cheeks going concave while fucking the thing between her lips.

“You can’t fuck me!” she yelped, splitting her labia with the blunt dome at its end. “Not without a condom … No, we can’t do it bareback!”

But then she was plunging it into her body, legs folding at the knees while Monica moaned her delight.

“Okay, but don’t come inside me. I’m not on the pill … I’m not protected…”

She worked herself hard with the dildo, the shaft buttery with Monica’s need, blobs of desire clinging to the shaft, her labia stretching each time she slid the thing out.

“Please don’t let go inside me. Don’t fill me with cum. My husband would go mad if he knew what I was doing. It’s dangerous,” she gasped, stomach tensing as she rubbed at her clit, face tight with the climax I knew as rushing towards her.

By then I was too hot to stop myself from hauling my cock out of my trousers. I watched my wife plundering her sex, her fantasy lover going at her with vigour, Monica’s breasts rolling and trembling, thighs starting their nerveless shiver.

“Oh no! You’re coming! I can feel your seed spurting inside me. You’re so deep, so fucking deep. All that stuff in my vulnerable pussy…”

I kicked off my shoes and rose to my feet, trousers dropping to my shins while I tore the buttons loose from my shirt in my haste.

Monica gabbled and moaned, writhing about on the bed, the black dildo inside her as far as she could get it, one hand mauling her breasts as her orgasm boiled.

“You’re fucking his spunk,” Monica gasped, her stare fixed to my gaze as I sank into her body. “I’m full of another man’s cum. I fucked his black dick and let him do it inside me.”

Which is when I dumped all I had into my wife. I grunted and moaned and let it rush forth, flooding her cunt with my lust.

A few minutes later, while she slid my semen over her clit, Monica grinned at me and purred, “I can’t wait for the holiday.