*****

The Bet…

It’s Friday, and the backlog of clients waiting to get their annual tax done is again causing my business a lot of headaches. Sure, I have hired more tax accountants this year, but it never seems to be enough. One client I had arranged to meet for lunch was a longstanding customer who owned a chain of car garages specializing in custom modifications of just about anything with four wheels. Dwayne Bell was a big black man, muscular, about six feet four, and full of swagger and attitude. He was the king of his domain, and his shops were very busy. He even completed numerous celebrity car customizations and had a huge reputation around town.

Dwayne was also known as a ‘playa.’ A real ladies’ man. Given my rather boring sexual relationship with my wife, Kelly-Anne, I enjoyed living vicariously through Dwayne’s various sexual exploits. He often went into great detail about the woman, what she looked like, what she liked doing, and how good (or bad) she was to fuck.

Our lunches were more social than business. Dwayne and I spent the first 20 minutes discussing some of his tax requirements for the year over some chicken salad. Not that Dwayne dealt with this personally, as he had an accountant managing his finances in his businesses, who met with me to provide all the relevant documents to complete Dwayne’s personal and company tax returns. To be honest, the more Dwayne tried to tell me about his business income, the more I realized he had no real clue about it. But for some reason, Dwayne liked me. He liked talking to me. That’s why I met with him like this, because I liked him, too.

After business talk was dispensed with, Dwayne ordered us a couple of more beers and embarked on a recounting of his latest sexual conquests. It is the part I liked.

“Married pussy!” Dwayne exclaimed.

“What do you mean, Dwayne?” I asked.

The non-sequitur confused me.

“Married pussy is the easiest, hottest, wettest pussy in the world,” he declared.

I said rather self-righteously, “Dwayne, as a married man, I can speak with some experience and certainty on this subject. Married pussy is anything but easy, and rarely hot or wet.”

“Rory, for such a smart accountant who charges $250 an hour, you’re a total dumbshit.”

I like Dwayne, but he can also be a bit abrasive and arrogant at times. Sometimes he can really push my buttons.

Dwayne continued. “More times than not, a married woman is dying for a thorough fucking from a real man, not just the weekly five-minute diddle they’re used to from their useless husbands.”

“Well, I imagine that there are some dissatisfied wives out there, but as your friend and accountant, I strongly advise against propositioning married women. You’ll end up with, at least, a bruised cheek from her slap and, at worst, excruciating pain from her knee to your groin.”

Dwayne chuckled, but quickly dismissed my cautions. “Rory, you don’t even have a clue. In the past three months, I’ve approached eight different married women, and I’m batting a thousand. I’ve concluded that there isn’t a married woman out there who, given the opportunity, would turn down a sexual romp with a good-looking black man like me with a nice big cock.”

I laughed. “I don’t know what world you’ve been living in, Dwayne, but I suspect that if you approached any of the married women that I know, your batting average would quickly drop to the point that you’d be sent back down to the minors.”

“Like who?” Dwayne stared at me confidently.

I was totally dumbfounded. I didn’t expect to be challenged on this point. My mind went blank, so I tried to avoid the question. “Look, Dwayne, a lot of wives are just plain frigid. Especially after they’ve had a few kids, they won’t have sex with anyone. So I just don’t see how your theory is even provable.”

“Who?” Dwayne asked, as he wasn’t going to let the question slide.

My mind was slowly starting to reason again. I didn’t really want to give Dwayne the names of any of the married women that I know. Dwayne’s the type of guy who jumps at every challenge. I certainly didn’t want him hitting on the wives of any of my friends. Common sense suggested that the safest thing to do was to rely on my wife, Kelly-Anne.

Kelly-Anne and I have been married for fifteen years, with three kids to show for the venture. Kelly-Anne is not exactly frigid, but she’s also rather conservative when it comes to sex. Pretty much straight missionary intercourse. She just lies there, and I do my thing. She has never been into oral sex or any other kinkier activities. From the perspective of frequency, we will usually have sex twice a month. I knew that Kelly-Anne would never cheat on me. In fact, she was a virgin when we married.

“Well, Dwayne, like my wife, for example…”

Dwayne smirked. “You mean Kelly-Anne?”

Dwayne had met Kelly-Anne at a few business functions held by the city. Certainly, nothing untoward occurred. Kelly-Anne is always the epitome of propriety. Not that she isn’t strikingly beautiful, but she masks her 5-foot, 7-inch, 120-pound frame in an expensive and conservative attire. One of my unspoken complaints has always been that Kelly-Anne’s delectable ass is never displayed in a manner befitting its magnificence. Of course, her dark brown, shoulder-length hair is always perfectly coiffed, framing her high cheekbones, porcelain skin, and full lips.

“Rory,” Dwayne said condescendingly, shaking his head. “Do you really think for a moment that Kelly-Anne hasn’t cheated on you?”

Not wanting to give any credence to Dwayne’s outrageous suggestion, I tried to remain composed when I confidently replied, “I know she has never cheated and would never cheat. That’s why your hypothesis about married pussy is fatally flawed.”

“Well, Rory, if Kelly-Anne hasn’t taken on any other men, it’s only because she’s never been presented with the right opportunity.”

“Sure, sure, Dwayne, whatever you say…” I said, waving my hand dismissively. My cynical response only served to heighten Dwayne’s competitive nature.

“Look, I’ll prove it to you if you doubt me… However, it must be a fair test. You can’t purposefully intervene or interfere. You just have to give me a reasonable chance to prove my point without letting Kelly-Anne know that something’s up I’ll admit I’m wrong if I fail. Shit, I’ll even double your rate for this year’s tax returns if I fail.”

It sounded like a deal too good to be true. I’m somewhat ashamed to admit it, but doubling Dwayne’s bill would be a significant financial windfall for my business. Yet, I recognised that Dwayne’s a shrewd man. “What happens if you’re right?” The accountant in me always tries to weigh all the variables.

“See, you’re already afraid that I’m right! A second ago, you thought I was full of shit… I’ll tell you what, I’ll make it an easy wager. If I’m right, you agree not to interfere and let whatever happens happen. OK? If she lets me fuck her, then you let me, too. No hissy fits. No angry husband routines. You just accept it and let me fuck her whenever I want.”

Less than enthusiastically, I said, “OK, deal.”

We shook hands across the table.

*****

For some unexplainable reason, I looked at Kelly-Anne differently that night as she emerged from the shower. I wondered how she’d react to Dwayne coming on to her. I wondered whether her nipples would become erect in response to his flirting, whether her pussy would involuntarily lubricate. As I daydreamed about the possible scenarios, I suddenly imagined Kelly-Anne naked, lying on her back, her legs spread wide, bucking her pelvis wildly to meet the thrusts of Dwayne’s invading black cock like some insatiable porn star.

Certainly, I’d never witnessed such a scene when Kelly-Anne and I had sex. It dawned on me — as these sexual fantasies filled my mind — that my dick was extremely hard. I looked down on it with some pride. Sure, I’m not well hung like Dwayne probably is. My dick reaches a modest four inches on a good day. But it always got the job done, so I thought.

That night, I fucked Kelly-Anne with a fervour. I wanted to reassure myself of my potency. But Kelly-Anne reacted as always, lying there with legs spread and a vacant look on her face. Even though I fucked her with what I thought was superhuman intensity, she seemed bored, moving slowly, just waiting for me to finish and get off her. When I moaned, “I’m gonna cum,” Kelly-Anne began to fondle my balls. My wife knows that this sensation always sends me over the edge.

Even though I desperately wanted to hold off until her belly rippled with orgasmic pleasure, the sensation was too great. At the last moment, the image in my mind returned to Dwayne slamming his big black cock into Kelly-Anne’s wet cunt. I climaxed violently and collapsed. Eventually, Kelly-Anne slipped out from under me and rolled over to go to sleep.

She didn’t orgasm, as per usual. It’s been so long since I saw her cum from fucking. I’d even reached a point where I doubted if she could anymore. I had decided the problem was having four kids. It’s done some damage to her pussy, no doubt. Yet, for me, these unsettling images of Dwayne and my wife together continued in my mind until I, too, fell into a deep sleep.

*****

For the next week, I continued to be haunted by these perverse images of Dwayne and Kelly-Anne in the throes of all varieties of sexual couplings. I found myself masturbating with a fervour that I hadn’t known since adolescence. Of course, Kelly-Anne was oblivious, remaining the picture of propriety. Perhaps fortunately, I didn’t have to speak with Dwayne during this timeframe, either. The situation began to take on the hazy quality of a wicked nightmare. That is, until a local business association fundraiser for charity.

These events are usually quite conservative, despite a variety of people attending. Not all local businesses are multimillion-dollar organizations. Some were just small corner shops and bodegas. My accountancy firm was probably above these smaller businesses in terms of yearly profit, but well below some others (like Dwayne’s).

However, Kelly-Anne was in her element. She was dressed in a sexy black, backless number. Actually, this dress was rather unusual for Kelly-Anne, for it displayed her cleavage and a healthy dose of her legs. Of course, Kelly-Anne had a unique way of looking classy, without the least bit of sensuality.

After a couple of gin and tonics, I was startled by Dwayne’s booming voice. It was quite a surprise since Dwayne normally hated these events. “These things are as dull as dishwater,” I recall Dwayne once saying.

“Dwayne, what the Hell are you doing here?” I asked wide-eyed.

“Rory, you doubting Thomas! I’m here to help raise money for this, err, worthy cause,” he replied with a smirk.

“Oh, and just what would that cause be, eh, Dwayne?”

“Um, well, doesn’t someone’s kid need a new set of braces, or something?” Dwayne smirked and, in a sarcastic voice, said, “You know, Rory, I’ve changed my take on these business association get-togethers. While I still believe that the vast majority of the married women present haven’t had a good fucking in years, I’ve concluded that this fact presents someone like me with endless possibilities.”

I guffawed at his arrogance. “Someone like you, pray tell…”

Dwayne smirked again. “A man who’s rich, black, and hung like a horse…”

“God, Dwayne, you’re unbelievable,” I said, rolling my eyes..

With that comment, Dwayne glanced over toward Kelly-Anne, who was engaged in some banal conversation with the secretary of the business association, and remarked, “So, speaking of women yearning to be filled, how’s Kelly-Anne, Rory? Is she ready for the ‘big’ leagues yet?”

Flushed with anger and indignation, all I could muster was, “Fuck off, asshole!”

“Now, now, Rory boy, remember our bet. Besides, you’re so confident about Kelly-Anne’s fidelity and loyalty that there’s nothing to worry about, right? Your packin’ enough heat down there to keep your woman satisfied, amiright?” he said, gesturing to my groin. “Not that it shows, mind you.” With that, Dwayne made a beeline for Kelly-Anne.

On the one hand, I felt compelled to intervene. On the other hand, I truly wanted the vindication of Kelly-Anne spurning Dwayne’s base advances. In the end, I drowned my indecision in more gin and tonics. As the evening wore on, my stomach felt oddly queasy. This feeling was exacerbated every time I lost sight of Kelly-Anne. Yet, throughout, I could not ignore how I was sporting a half chub.

To my frustration, Dwayne had managed to corner Kelly-Anne into a lengthy one-on-one conversation. It was quite surprising since Kelly-Anne was notorious for her ability to work a crowd. Many times, people would come up to Kelly-Anne and apparently interject themselves into the conversation. Normally, Kelly-Anne would use the interruption as an opportunity to move on. At the very least, Kelly-Anne would always graciously welcome the new party into the discourse. Yet, on this evening, Kelly-Anne’s body language caused the interlopers to move on after only a few comments, leaving her and Dwayne to themselves.

Finally, the event was coming to an end, and the caterers began to pack up. Kelly-Anne remained clearly in sight, fully clothed, and was in conversation with Dwayne. At last, I felt a sense of relief and victory, as Kelly-Anne left Dwayne and walked over to me. My elation was short-lived, however.

“Honey, I don’t feel like calling it a night yet. Dwayne’s invited us to join him for drinks and dancing at a club. What do you say, it’ll be fun, especially after you’ve had to put up with this boring party,” Kelly-Anne said with a smile.

I had no choice but to agree. I certainly couldn’t beg off and tell that I’d bet Kelly-Anne’s fidelity for some good billable work. Likewise, I would be breaching the deal with Dwayne if I were to interfere.

“Sure, honey, that sounds great,” I replied.

While I was less than enthusiastic, I rationalised away the risk that Dwayne might actually succeed. After all, Kelly-Anne had done nothing improper yet.

*****

Perhaps ill-advisedly, I had more gin and tonics when we reached the club. The dim lights and smoky air of the club further clouded my self-induced alcoholic haze. The loud dance music also rang in my ears, distorting the conversation. Dwayne had strategically sat next to Kelly-Anne in the booth, relegating me to the other side of the table. My inability to make out or participate in the dialogue heightened my paranoia.

Dwayne was chatting up Kelly-Anne with aplomb and had even maneuvered his arm around her shoulder. When it came time for dancing, I was in no condition to keep Kelly-Anne from Dwayne’s devious onslaught. Putting aside my agreement not to intercede, my coordination was completely shot from the drinking.

At first, it was fast dancing, leaving Dwayne little opportunity for bodily contact. However, late in the evening, the music slowed, and Dwayne pressed himself close to Kelly-Anne. My senses may have been dulled, or my paranoia rampant, but I could swear that I saw Kelly-Anne grinding her belly into Dwayne’s bulging groin. Maybe I was just feeling sorry for myself. Still, as I downed my n-teenth gin and tonic, I began to visualise illicit pictures of Dwayne fucking Kelly-Anne ferociously with my wife bucking back like a porn star.

Dwayne and Kelly-Anne had, meanwhile, danced their way to the most remote and dark corner of the dance floor. Again, my perceptions might not have been acute, but I am sure I saw Dwayne and Kelly-Anne engaged in a never-ending French kiss while Dwayne slowly stroked her ass and fondled the sides of her breasts.

Blessedly, closing time finally arrived. As we staggered to the door, I surrendered to Kelly-Anne the keys to the car. Dwayne said something about a nightcap at his place and, for an instant, my heart stopped. But, for some reason, Kelly-Anne declined. I poured myself into the leather passenger seat of our BMW.

Before Kelly-Anne got in, she said, “Oops, just a second, I think I left something in the club.”

I was able to watch Kelly-Anne in the passenger rearview mirror as she walked back to the club. But, she didn’t go in. Instead, she approached Dwayne as he was unlocking the door to his Mercedes. Again, they kissed, not for very long, though. I could see Kelly-Anne and Dwayne exchange brief words. With a sly smile, Dwayne placed his hand on Kelly-Anne’s right tit as she turned to walk back to the car.

Kelly-Anne made a little small talk on the drive home, but her thoughts were clearly elsewhere. Although my small dick was turgid all evening long, the alcohol caused me to elect sleep over a desperately needed fuck once we got home. Yet, during the night, I slept fitfully, awakening often. At least twice, I heard Kelly-Anne breathing heavily and the rhythmic sound of her hand vigorously at work between her legs.

That shocked me. I thought my wife was frigid. So the idea of her even masturbating seemed so out of step with my perception of her as a person. But she did it, in our bed, with me beside her. That worried me.

*****

The next day, Dwayne called and invited me to lunch. I hoped that he would simply take pleasure in the fact that he had groped my wife, and let the ‘bet’ drop. But this hope was dashed almost immediately.

“Roryy boy! How are you feeling after all that booze? Probably not as good as I was ‘feeling’ last night, if you catch my drift,” Dwayne said with a sleazy wink.

The sinking feeling in my stomach again sank in, and I could actually feel my manhood shrink. “Look,” I implored, “why don’t we just call the bet a draw?”

“No go, Roryy. That wouldn’t be very sporting, especially after all the hard work I put into setting up the payday. But, I’ll tell you what. Let me try to ask Kelly-Anne out alone just once. If she turns me down, then I’ll call our bet a draw.”

“OK. It’s a deal,” I reluctantly agreed, believing that Kelly-Anne would never risk being seen alone, in public, with Dwayne.

Dwayne was smirking like the Cheshire cat.

“What the hell are you smiling about!” I asked, frowning at him.

“Well, Rory, I forgot to share one little fact before you agreed: I already asked, and Kelly-Anne accepted. We’re going out tonight,” Dwayne declared and burst into laughter.

I felt as if I was going to explode. That morning, Kelly-Anne had asked me to watch the kids because she was going out for a ‘girls’ night’ with her best friend, Tina. We had allowed one another ‘night’s out’ since our last child was born as a method of preserving our sanity. I never dreamed that Kelly-Anne might use this arrangement to fool around on me. Of course, Dwayne could be bullshitting me. I’ll never put that above him.

“Didn’t you know?” Dwayne asked, still laughing. “Kelly-Anne didn’t tell you we’re going out tonight…” He studied my face and burst into laughter again, saying, “No… No… She told you only she said it was with someone you know… Probably her best friend… Oh my God, that’s rich… I think you don’t know your wife as well as you think you do…”

I was embarrassed. Dwayne had called me out on that big time. Kelly-Anne was acting completely out of character for her, and it baffled me. I left that lunch with a knot in my stomach, that’s for sure. But I had come this far, and Dwayne pleaded to let the bet play out to its natural conclusion. But the truth is, one I couldn’t admit to myself at the time, Kelly-Anne had already cheated on me with how she acted with Dwayne in the nightclub the night before. Sure, they hadn’t had sex, but to kiss and grope another man like that was not something a wife should be doing.

I headed to the golf club to play 18 holes. I needed to take my mind off what was going on. I needed a distraction.

*****

When I got home that evening, Kelly-Anne was busily getting ready to go out. But, she didn’t act or dress any differently than on other occasions. I rationalised that Dwayne was simply torturing me, and that Kelly-Anne was indeed going out with her best friend, Tina.

On the way out the door, Kelly-Anne gave me a peck on the cheek and said, “Tina and I are going to catch a movie and then maybe go out for dinner and drinks afterward. I’ll probably be home late, so there’s no need to wait up.”

“OK, honey. Have a nice night and say hello to Tina for me,” I said with a smile.

Initially, ignorance was bliss. I chose to disregard Dwayne’s boastfulness and, instead, trust Kelly-Anne’s honesty. Yet, once I put the kids down, my mind began to wander. A combination of jealousy and uncertainty gnawed at my brain. But, at the same time, I felt bad about doubting Kelly-Anne. By 10:30 PM, my stomach became unsettled in the same fashion as the night before when Kelly-Anne and Dwayne were on the dance floor. By 11:30 PM, my paranoia overcame reason, and I thought about ways to confirm Kelly-Anne’s fidelity.

So, in a very sophomoric manner, I called Tina’s telephone number. Embarrassed, I almost hung up after the second ring, but then a groggy voice answered, “Hello.”

It was unmistakably Tina’s voice, and it sounded as if I’d awakened her from a deep sleep. Flabbergasted, I set down the receiver without saying a word. To my dismay, I’d proven that I wasn’t paranoid. Kelly-Anne was indeed out with Dwayne.

As midnight eased into the early morning hours, my mental imagery was torture. I would alternate between fantasies of Dwayne fucking Kelly-Anne in all different positions, with fantasies of Kelly-Anne resolutely turning down Dwayne’s advances, saying, “No, I’m a married woman! I love my husband.”

Tellingly, my four-inch dick was rock hard as I imagined Dwayne fucking Kelly-Anne’s pussy. With guilty perversion, I stroked myself to an incredible orgasm, which brought on sleep.

*****

Kelly-Anne arrived home at three-forty-five AM. She slipped into the bedroom without turning on the light. Apparently, she thought I was asleep, and I did nothing to dissuade her from this belief. She seemed somewhat unsteady on her feet, perhaps the result of a little too much alcohol. Unfortunately, it was too dark to make out anything more than her silhouette as Kelly-Anne discarded her clothing into the hamper. Nude, she made her way to the bathroom and closed the door. I was a bit surprised to hear the shower since Kelly-Anne normally showered in the morning. But it did afford me an opportunity to inspect her dirty clothes.

At first, I noticed nothing abnormal. Of course, I didn’t want to turn on the light, so my inspection was hampered. When I found Kelly-Anne’s panties in the hamper, I felt an obvious wetness. In fact, the gussets were thoroughly sopping. Instinctively, I brought the soiled panties to my nose. The aroma was striking. While I immediately recognized the feminine smell of Kelly-Anne’s sexual lubricants, there was some other smell even more evident. It was a familiar, pungent aroma. It was the same fragrance that I smelled earlier when I had jerked off.

Oddly, these mixed remnants were in no way offensive. I slipped the panties into one of my drawers for further examination in the daylight hours.

When Kelly-Anne exited the bathroom, she had already turned out the light, so again my vision was impaired. However, she walked as if she had just finished the Boston Marathon. Kelly-Anne slipped a white nightgown over her head and climbed into bed.

There was no effort on Kelly-Anne’s part to make physical contact with me. Instead, she rolled over on her stomach with her face away from me toward the wall. Within seconds, I could hear the sound of her deep breathing as if she were already in REM sleep.

I didn’t want to wake her, but my curiosity persisted. After about thirty minutes, I extracted my pen light from my bedside stand and flicked it on under the covers. Kelly-Anne’s nightgown had ridden up, fully exposing her legs and ass. Just then, she moved her right leg, giving me a clear view of her pussy from behind. I was amazed by what I saw.

Kelly-Anne’s labia were swollen and red. In the place of her normal little slit was a gaping opening where I thought I could see all the way up her vagina to the cervix. There were no apparent fluids. She must have showered, cleaned, and dried herself. I marveled at the sight. It was something I’d never even seen, not even on our wedding night. I could only imagine the size of the cock that must have done this much damage to Kelly-Anne’s womanhood.

*****

In the morning, while Kelly-Anne slept, my feelings alternated between abject depression and wanton lust. Fortunately, when I began to slip into the abyss of bemoaning the fact that Kelly-Anne had been unfaithful, I pulled out her cum soiled panties. The negative thoughts dissipated as my boner grew. The fluids had dried into an obvious yellowish stain, but the odor remained unmistakable. I found the aroma intoxicating.

I found myself jerking off frantically in the bathroom as I held Kelly-Anne’s soiled panties pressed to my nose. As I came, I knew that this intense sexual experience was addictive, and not one easily dismissed.

Yet, as I drove to work that morning, depression set in. My self-esteem was suffering from being cuckolded. Yes, Kelly-Anne cuckolded me. I knew it. She knew it. Dwayne knew it.

*****

A little after midday, my secretary buzzed in to let me know that Dwayne was on the line. I knew that this call would come, but my heart began to race nonetheless. Surprisingly, Dwayne said nothing about the night before. Instead, he concentrated his comments on his tax statement I was preparing. He then suggested that we get together for lunch at two PM to discuss some of the finer points.

I felt strangely uncomfortable around Dwayne at lunch. Every time he looked at me, I wondered what he was thinking. Was he remembering how he’d fucked Kelly-Anne last night? Was he wondering what kind of a wimp I was to allow my wife to do that? Had Kelly-Anne said anything about my sexual prowess, or worse, my dick size?

After we’d finished talking about tax, there was a long, awkward silence. Dwayne just sat there and stared at me, a smirk beginning to form on his face. I couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. I felt as if I was out of control, in a free fall. Eventually, Dwayne ended my misery.

“So, I guess I proved my point. And, shit, Rory, I’m really sorry about the condition of Kelly-Anne’s pussy. I never dreamt that she would be that tight after four kids.”

Dwayne had done it again. Pushed my buttons. I really should have just acknowledged it and walked away with the whole thing done with. However, I’m not sure if it was masochism or simply sheer stupidity, but I took the other path. The path that didn’t end things at all. I felt embarrassed hearing the following words come out of my mouth.

“Dwayne, what are you talking about? Kelly-Anne went out with Tina last night. I know it for a fact. There’s no evidence that you fucked Kelly-Anne. Stop trying to gaslight me with your macho bullshit,” I said smugly.

What I said made Dwayne sit back in his chair and stare at me wide-eyed with raised eyebrows. After a moment, he frowned as if the penny dropped, then he shook his head and laughed. “Careful what you ask for, Rory. But I accept your challenge. If proof is what you want, then proof is what you’ll get.”

‘What have I done?’ I wondered as his words hit home. ‘I just invited Dwayne to go after Kelly-Anne again!’ As I marvel at my incredible gaff, I begin to suspect my subconscious may have played a very significant role in my actions. Indeed, I could feel my dick chub up as I considered the prospect of a return engagement between Dwayne and Kelly-Anne.

The lunch quickly petered out after this, as the real reason for the meeting had been addressed. As we parted, Dwayne was still smiling and shaking his head. On the other hand, I was kicking myself. ‘What have I done?’ I kept thinking.

*****

The following Friday night, Kelly-Anne asked for another ‘girls’ night out.’ Of course, I had to agree. This time, she dressed in a more provocative outfit: a red silk slip dress, without a bra (something I’d never seen Kelly-Anne do before), and I believe she was wearing black thong panties (to my knowledge, Kelly-Anne didn’t own any underwear of this type). She concocted no alibi this time. Rather, she simply kissed me on the cheek and said, “Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.”.

After the kids were asleep, I drank several beers and retired to my bed naked. With absolutely no sense of personal dignity, I fondled and sniffed Kelly-Anne’s cum soaked panties while imagining the salacious things that she and Dwayne must be doing at that very moment. I stroked myself to at least two good climaxes before falling asleep.

Even in my dreams, I saw Kelly-Anne’s slender legs wrapped around Dwayne’s torso, bucking frantically as he battered her crotch repeatedly with his thick, erect cock. Just as I heard Kelly-Anne moaning in orgasm in my dream, and visualized Dwayne’s balls tightening and shooting their load into her convulsing cunt, there was another eruption from my small dick. My semen pooled on my belly, and I looked over to see the clock radiate 3:29 AM.

I heard Kelly-Anne come in about 15 minutes later. I wondered what Dwayne’s idea of proof might be. Kelly-Anne staggered into the bedroom. She pulled her slip dress over her head. While the only light source was the LED on our alarm clock, I could tell that she had no panties on.

‘Fuck it,’ I thought. ‘I was so looking forward to smelling that thong.’

Then, to my surprise, Kelly-Anne just climbed into bed naked, without taking a shower or putting on a nightgown. I could smell alcohol on her breath and, I think, Dwayne’s cologne in her hair. She rolled over toward me and kissed me, deeply thrusting her in my mouth. Her lips were loose, and her saliva flowed freely all over my cheeks and chin. Kelly-Anne had never kissed me in such a wanton and messy fashion before. The taste of alcohol was unmistakable, but it was mixed with flavors that were unfamiliar to me. I don’t know if it was the alcohol, but when Kelly-Anne finally withdrew her lips, my face was coated with a sticky and slimy residue.

Before I could fully assess the situation, Kelly-Anne grabbed the back of my hair with both hands and forcefully guided my head underneath the sheets. My cheek brushed her left nipple, which was erect and harder than I’d ever experienced. Kelly-Anne kept pushing my head until I was between her legs. It was quite out of the norm. Kelly-Anne had never demanded oral sex before. If I went down on her, it was always at my instigation.

There I was in the darkness, under the covers. For all intents and purposes, I was blind. Yet, my other senses were heightened. The aroma emanating from Kelly-Anne’s crotch was pungent. It was the same odor I remembered from her soiled panties, only intensified. Squishing sounds were coming from her pussy, and every so often, a little ‘queef’ of air would escape.

Impatiently, Kelly-Anne ground my face into her groin. I could feel a hot, slimy, sticky pool of fluids soaking her pubic hair and cradled by the folds of her spread labia. Instinctively, I opened my mouth and extended my tongue into the void between her thighs. The opening to Kelly-Anne’s vagina was enormous. It seemed wide enough to consume my nose, mouth, and chin. My tongue caught a huge glob of the flow which oozed from her cunt. The strong taste was foreign to me: tart and salty with a tinge of the musky flavor of Kelly-Anne’s vaginal juices.

Now there was no denying it. I was swallowing the semen Dwayne’s black cock had deposited deep in my wife’s cunt. Common sense, Judeo-Christian morality, and years of heterosexuality dictated that I should be revolted. But my rigid small dick and throbbing prostate said otherwise.

With a fervor, I began tonguing Kelly-Anne’s swollen and distended labial lips, seeking to savor the remnants that had already escaped from her cunt. I sucked what seemed like an endless stream of semen from the depths of her cunt. All the while, Kelly-Anne moaned and rocked her pelvis against my jaw. I heard myself whimpering with satisfaction as if I were a suckling infant taking nourishment from a mother’s teat.

Time and time again, I tried to extend my tongue and swab Kelly-Anne’s cervix, but I couldn’t. Dwayne’s black cock must have been not only thick as a redwood but long as one. He must have pounded Kelly-Anne’s cervix well up into her belly.

After Kelly-Anne had convulsed in orgasm, a thicker flow of cum poured forth. I lapped it up and began to wonder if Dwayne’s sperm had made its way into Kelly-Anne’s womb. Even though I knew Kelly-Anne was on the pill, the thought of Dwayne’s virile seed swimming in search of one of Kelly-Anne’s eggs sent me over the edge. Without even touching myself, I came again, my semen pooling on the mattress as I continued to coax every drop of Dwayne’s semen from my wife’s folds.

After what must have been ninety minutes of furious efforts, Kelly-Anne had climaxed three times and was clean as a whistle. I, too, was hard again, but Kelly-Anne was asleep, and there was nary a dollop of sperm left in her vagina. With some hesitancy, I decided to fuck Kelly-Anne myself. I positioned my penis at her gaping vaginal entrance. Literally no pressure was necessary as my small dick disappeared inside. It was a loose, warm sensation as I moved my erection around this vast expanse that had once been a tight little pussy known only to me.

There was ample room for more, and Kelly-Anne’s vagina almost engulfed my balls as well. Apparently, the absence of friction allowed Kelly-Anne to sleep through the five minutes of my squirming inside of her. I tried to hold off as long as possible, but the thought slipping around in my wife’s used pussy was too much. I added my light load to the scene of the crime and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning (which seemed to come too soon), I awoke with a crusty residue coating my face. Dwayne and Kelly-Anne’s combined juices had dried like a tight mask. I had my morning shower and came out to see my wife still asleep. Her face seemed contented. Our weekend passed pleasantly, and we didn’t once discuss what happened. On Monday morning, I returned to work.

*****

Predictably, Dwayne called mid-morning on Monday to schedule a lunch. I was resigned to the fact that Dwayne had won the bet. Instead of making a nice profit from doing all his taxes this year, I will be losing a lot of money. It didn’t make me feel good. You could say I felt worse about that than I did about what he did to my wife. I don’t know what that says about me. Why would I jeopardize my business for the sake of being a cuckold?

Dwayne was beaming with his sense of achievement when I met him at the restaurant. As we sat down at our table, Dwayne gloated, “So, how’s my guy? I hope your parents taught you to be a good loser.”

Perhaps I lacked the depth of conviction that I had in my earlier denials. Still, I surprised myself by conjuring up enough strength to say, “Dwayne, this charade is getting old fast. You haven’t accomplished anything. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve won the bet. You have no proof of your conquest.”

“What the fuck, dawg?” Dwayne replied, shaking his head condescendingly.

As he did, Dwayne reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a pair of black silk thong panties, which he deposited on my plate.

I immediately recognized the panties as the pair that I’d seen on Kelly-Anne wear on her ‘girls’ night out’ last Friday evening. I nearly lost my composure but managed to keep myself in check. I picked the panties up with my finger and, while dangling them in front of Dwayne, said, “Dwayne, these prove nothing. You coulda stole them off some poor woman’s clothes line for all I know.”

Dwayne was not amused. “Look, Rory, this is your proof. Those are Kelly-Anne’s panties that I kept as a souvenir from Friday night.”

“I doubt it,” I said and smirked. “Kelly-Anne doesn’t wear or own any thong panties. She despises them. You’ll need more proof than this…” I surreptitiously slid the panties into my jacket pocket (for later examination and sniffing).

Dwayne’s face got red, and his bushy eyebrows furrowed deep. “How’s this then?” Dwayne said with a sneer. “Kelly-Anne told me about your small dick, you know. She told me it’s a real pencil dick — short and thin. She told your little white dick hasn’t made her cum since she had Katie (our first child). Kelly-Anne said she’s sexually bored with you and has sex only out of her duty as a wife, but if she could, she would, and I quote her, ‘Never let Rory come near me with that babydick ever again.’ How’s that for fucking proof?”

I sat back, staring wide-eyed at what Dwayne just said to me. It was mean, venomous, and tugged at the very core of my manhood. My wife has never said anything to me about my penis size or my lack of prowess in bed. I always just assumed she was frigid. However, that one angry outburst from Dwayne told me that the problem has always been me and my small dick. That was truly a blow. I gazed down at the table. I could feel my cheeks burning.

Then, out of stubborn defiance, I uttered the words, “What nonsense. That was a shitty thing to say, Dwayne, even for you. Kelly-Anne would never say such a thing because it just isn’t true. You’ve been reading too many cuckold stories.”

The big black man sat back and studied my face for a moment. He relaxed and suddenly burst out laughing. The laughter echoed through the restaurant, causing some to turn and look at us.

When he settled down some, he said, “OK, OK, I understand now, Rory. I see what’s happening here. I have to say you’re one kinky dude, but I can play along.”

My head snapped up, and with a pout, I said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He sat there in a moment of silence. Thinking. Then he said, “OK, OK. If you want undeniable proof of your wife’s infidelity, I’ll give it to you. How does that sound? Then the outcome of the bet will be decided once and for all.”

I nodded, accepting his terms.

The rest of the lunch proceeded without mention of Kelly-Anne or the bet. But I did catch myself noticing Dwayne’s cologne, the same smell that Kelly-Anne brought home. I also began to imagine what Dwayne looked like in the nude, with particular time spent visualizing his erect black cock and low-hanging, heavy balls. Indeed, kind of strange for a married, cis hetero guy.

*****

For the next few days, I wondered what kind of proof Dwayne had in mind. To my disappointment, Kelly-Anne did not ask for any ‘girls’ nights out.’ I was doubly disappointed to discover that the ‘prize’ thong panties did not have any dried semen, just the faint smell of my wife’s pussy and piss.

A week after that lunch meeting, Dwayne called and invited me to meet him at a bar. I was surprised. Kelly-Anne hadn’t gone out at all the preceding evenings. My curiosity was piqued as I hurried to keep the date. I was anxious, and it didn’t help that Dwayne was running late. I was so nervous that I ordered a strong drink. After sitting at the bar for a few minutes, sipping my whiskey, my phone buzzed. It was a text message from Dwayne.

It read: ‘Your proof awaits you in your bathroom. Get home now.’

I skulled my glass of whiskey and left the bar like my house was on fire. Fortunately, there were no speed traps between the bar and my house. When I arrived, I noticed that Kelly-Anne’s car was still in the garage, but she was nowhere to be found.

*****

Nevertheless, I headed straight to our bedroom and the adjoining bathroom. But, to my frustration, there was nothing! Absolutely, nothing was amiss or out of the ordinary!

Like a fumbling treasure hunter, I looked in every drawer and cupboard, under every towel, even in the toilet tank. Nada! I was ready to call Dwayne and give him a piece of my mind when suddenly I heard the front door open. Kelly-Anne’s laughter was immediately recognizable. But she was talking to someone else and moving toward the bedroom. My instincts motivated me to hide or run. In retrospect, it was absurd. Here I was in my own home, feeling like a burglar.

Since I knew that the French windows to our bedroom were locked, I was trapped in the bathroom. I switched off the light and hoped that Kelly-Anne didn’t need to use the facilities. Initially, I sat quietly on the toilet. Kelly-Anne’s voice grew louder as I heard her enter the bedroom. When I could make out what she was saying, I was shocked.

“God! I’m dripping wet! My panties are soaking,” Kelly-Anne exclaimed breathlessly.

Whether by fate or by plan, I realized that I could see most of the bedroom, including our bed, in the reflection of the large mirror on the vanity. There, I saw Kelly-Anne unzipping a stylish red skirt and letting it fall to the floor, where she kicked it away from her feet. She was still wearing matching red pumps and thigh-high stockings. The tail of her white, silk blouse covered her panties.

Although the mirror image somewhat disoriented me, I realized that she was looking toward the door to the living room as she began to slowly unbutton her blouse. As she did, she seductively licked her lips. I had never seen her do that before. With a glistening pout, she finished with the last button. Kelly-Anne opened the blouse that slipped from her shoulders to the floor. To my surprise, Kelly-Anne was not wearing a bra.

Her 38D breasts were fully exposed, with her nipples erect. With her blouse gone, I could finally see Kelly-Anne’s panties. They were skimpy, high-cut, and she was right, there was a very noticeable dark wet spot seeping through the crotch.

Her gaze was still directed toward the bedroom door. “Do you still like what you see?” Kelly-Anne asked in a deep voice.

I heard a deep male voice reply, “Uh-huh.”

“Prove it. Show me that you like it.” Kelly-Anne teased.

From my angle, I couldn’t see her male guest, but I knew that voice. It was Dwayne. I heard the sound of rustling clothes, followed by the unzipping of a zipper. With that sound, Kelly-Anne’s eyes grew very large as she looked down. Her breathing grew faster, and she started manipulating her hard nipples.

“God. It looks even larger in the daylight,” she moaned.

Kelly-Anne licked her lips again while working her nipples. Suddenly, Kelly-Anne squatted down gracefully, keeping her balance in her high heels. With her legs spread, emphasizing the growing wet spot that now almost saturated the entirety of her underwear, Kelly-Anne beckoned with her index finger.

“Please… Bring it here. I need to taste it, feel it…”

In anticipation, both Kelly-Anne and I waited. On the edge of the mirror, I saw a purplish/chocolate bulbous cockhead, pre-cum fluid dribbling from the pee hole. It was a little difficult to estimate its size given the absence of a reference object. But it seemed abnormally large. Slowly, the dark, veiny shaft came into view. It too seemed so thick and had bulging veins. I expected to see Dwayne’s body immediately. Still, more and more of the shaft followed until it culminated in black pubic hair with huge, hairy balls swaying heavily between Dwayne’s muscular legs. Those balls were the size of lemons.

When Dwayne reached Kelly-Anne, I could finally appreciate the massive size of Dwayne’s genitals. His cockhead touched the bottom of her chin while brushing Kelly-Anne’s nostrils. Its length and girth were far greater than my slim four inches. I mentally guessed ten inches in length, and as Kelly-Anne grasped his massive cock, her hand could not quite encircle it. There looked to be an inch of cock flesh separating her fingers and thumb, and my wife’s hands are not small.

Kelly-Anne’s tongue dabbed up Dwayne’s pre-cum. She then closed her eyes and kissed the tip of the mammoth black cock. Just as Kelly-Anne’s lips parted wide, in an optimistic effort to give passage to Dwayne’s erection, the black man motioned to the bed stand and said, “Can you cover up Rory’s picture? I feel kinda guilty fucking his wife in his bed.”

“Trust me,” Kelly-Anne said with a smirk. “This will be the only enjoyable fuck I’ve had in this bed.”

“He’s not that bad, surely?”

My wife laughed. “Oh, Rory’s just awful at sex. I can’t even feel that tiny dick he’s got. I have to fuck myself with a big dildo when he’s a work to get any sexual pleasure at all.”

That was news to me.

“Well, I’d better give you something he could never give you,” Dwayne said smugly.

With a wicked smile, Kelly-Anne turned the wedding photo down so the image couldn’t be seen. “Feel better now?” she teased.

“I’ll only feel better when I feel your mouth around my black dick, Kelly-Anne,” Dwayne said hoarsely.

So, Kelly-Anne lifted Dwayne’s massive cockin a flaunting way and slurped the bulbous cockhead into her mouth.

The humiliation of it all excited me.

Kelly-Anne’s lips were stretched taut and her jaw wide open as she did her best to suck Dwayne. In the background was our wedding picture. Despite her efforts, Kelly-Anne’s petite mouth could not accommodate more than five inches of Dwayne’s black cock.

After about five minutes of valiant efforts, Kelly-Anne stopped sucking and stood. She slipped her sopping panties off and lay back on the bed. Her legs were splayed wide, and I could clearly see her engorged pussy lips glistening with her lubricant. She was so aroused, I couldn’t believe it.

“Dwayne, I need you to fuck me! This bed has never known a real man with a real cock. Give it to me, babe.”

That hurt my ego, but my boner throbbed.

Dwayne climbed between her thighs and began to run the tip of his big cock up and down Kelly-Anne’s pussy slit. It seemed to dwarf Kelly-Anne’s crotch. Kelly-Anne’s eyes shut, and she began to moan softly as Dwayne prepped her for entry. As he did, there was a squishing sound as Kelly-Anne’s juices flowed.

“I think your pussy is starting to get use to me, it’s opening wide,” Dwayne remarked.

“Uh-huh. It misses your thick, long cock. It wishes that you were fucking it every day.”

I was amazed. The impossible seemed to be happening. Kelly-Anne’s small pussy was expanding beyond anything I’d ever witnessed except for when she delivered our kids. But then again, it’s not like my dick was capable of making it expand anyway. Dwayne’s cockhead disappeared, and Kelly-Anne moaned deeply, breathed heavily, and tilted her pelvis to aid the black invader. The lips to her vagina were stretched around Dwayne’s girth as he slowly plunged deeper and deeper. After about three minutes of maneuvering, I could no longer see Dwayne’s big black cock. His huge hairy balls rested in the crack of Kelly-Anne’s ass. It was an awesome sight.

Dwayne began to pump the full length of his huge cock in and out of Kelly-Anne’s stretched out cunt. Kelly-Anne became very vocal as Dwayne’s tempo increased, moaning and whimpering in obvious ecstasy. The slurping noises coming from her pussy as Dwayne pounded away were nasty. With each thrust, Kelly-Anne’s body would recoil, and her breasts would wiggle as Dwayne’s cock rammed her cervix further back into her abdomen.

To my amazement, Kelly-Anne’s stomach began to undulate with an orgasm after about five minutes of frantic fucking. Dwayne wouldn’t let up and allow the spasms to subside, though. Instead, he worked Kelly-Anne’s cunt like a finely tuned instrument, bringing her again and again to climax until I lost count.

By now, my small white dick was throbbing as if ready to explode. Suddenly, in the reflection of the mirror, I saw Dwayne’s pace reach a crescendo, his sperm-laden balls tightened, and with an enormous grunt, he launched his jizz into the deepest regions of Kelly-Anne’s over-stretched vagina, at the door to her womb. Dwayne’s load was so voluminous that there was inadequate space in Kelly-Anne’s vagina to accommodate both it and his convulsing black cock. Thick, white jizz oozed out around Dwayne’s embedded shaft.

Then, I realized that jizz was saturating my pants and running down my leg. I came, and I hadn’t even touched my dick.

After a momentary respite in which Dwayne and Kelly-Anne (and I) caught their breath, Dwayne withdrew his still erect cock with a ‘plop’ from Kelly-Anne’s gaping vaginal opening. Kelly-Anne proceeded to suck Dwayne for all she was worth. Her usual cultured restraint and manners were all but gone. My wife slurped and lapped with utter abandon. After about fifteen minutes of ministrations, Dwayne rolled Kelly-Anne over onto all fours and plunged his cock back into her cunt doggy-style.

Dwayne spent the next ninety minutes fucking Kelly-Anne in every imaginable position. Twice more, he spewed semen into her cumming cunt, each time his load seemed, incredibly, to be as large as the first. Dwayne’s jizz matted Kelly-Anne’s dark pubic hair and flowed freely from her gaping, red pussy lips after Dwayne withdrew for the last time. My wife had had innumerable orgasms and collapsed, naked but for the sweat glistening all over her body.

After they lay there for ten minutes regaining their strength, Dwayne rolled out of bed, my bed, and went to his clothes. “I gotta go, baby,” he said calmly. “I’ll call you.” He dressed, walked over, and kissed Kelly-Anne fully on the lips.

Exhausted, she mumbled, “Until next time. I miss your cock already.”

Before Dwayne left the bedroom, he turned to the darkness in the bathroom and looked directly into the vanity mirror. It immediately dawned on me that reflections work both ways. Staring with a satisfied smirk, Dwayne zipped up his fly with an arrogant flair. Without saying a word, he turned and left.

I waited for another fifteen minutes to see if Kelly-Anne would also leave, but she was sound asleep. As I emerged from the bathroom, the smell of sex permeated the room. I looked at my satiated wife splayed nude on our marital bed with another man’s jizz running out of her well-worn cunt. In all my life with Kelly-Anne, I had never left like this. I wasn’t capable of it. My dick is too small. I guess some men would crack at this moment and leave their cheating wives. I couldn’t.

The sight before me was the most thrilling thing I have ever seen in my life. My wife, freshly fucked by a better man. A better cock. It was intoxicating.

So I climbed into bed between Kelly-Anne’s legs and proceeded to lick the remnants of the sex from her pussy lips. Kelly-Anne moaned quietly as my tongue darted in and out of her swollen pussy lips, but her eyes never opened. My frenzy increased as I slobbered, face down in her crotch. After sucking every available drop of pussy juice and jizz out, I noticed that I’d cum again. I didn’t even feel it. Then, exhaustion overtook me as well, and I fell into a deep sleep.

When I awoke, it was 9:30 PM, and Kelly-Anne was out in the den watching TV with the kids who’d since come home from school. Embarrassed, I didn’t say anything to Kelly-Anne. She, too, was silent, although there was a contented smile on her face.

*****

It’s now been a year since Dwayne gave me ‘absolute proof,’ Kelly-Anne goes out once or twice a week and returns home in the wee hours of the morning. When Kelly-Anne comes in, there is no doubt that she has been fucking. Without mentioning anything, she strips out of her clothes, climbs on top of me, straddles my head, and lowers her sopping, oozing pussy onto my mouth for cleaning.

We don’t have sex anymore. It was never spoken, but we both knew it was pointless for me to stick my little dick into her ruined cunt. So, I jerked off, sniffing her panties and watching porn. My wife has turned me into a pussyfree beta cuck, and I love it. If I’m lucky, I’ll sometimes get a text message from Dwayne telling me to hide in the bathroom, and I get to watch them fuck.

This is my life now.

The End.

*The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story has been submitted directly to this website, which is why we are able to publish it here. Thanks for your submission.