Cuckold In The Making

Monday.

Their first full night at the resort, and TracieLynn couldn't look more stunning. She was eight feet away on the packed disco floor, perspiration making her pretty cream and golden print sun dress cling occasionally to her curves as she danced and swayed across from her partner. Bodies intervened, often blocking his view. It didn't matter though. He knew that dress hugged a five foot one frame well toned by her four-times-a-week workouts at the Y. He loved her pert 34B's, impossibly thin waist balanced atop slender hips, tight ass, and knockout thighs. The strength of those thighs as they squeezed together still amazed him, especially whenever they constricted around him during those breathtaking moments as her orgasms peaked.

A larger couple, dancing dirty style, intervened for several rumbling bass beats and then his wife slid back into view, smiling at her partner with a girl-next-door face that could melt any heart. A cute, button nose, hazel, probing eyes, and chestnut hair, bobbed short just for this trip, shone in the glare of the circling spotlights. TracieLynn radiated wholesomeness and fun tonight. Perfect. Just the way he'd hoped she would be for this special occasion on their five year anniversary.

Sam glanced once more at the man dancing across from his pretty wife. It had to be him. Hard to be sure, of course, since the pictures he'd received were just of one part of the man's body and that part was currently well-covered by his Chinos. It had to be him though. Had to! He'd singled out TracieLynn just as the song sequence had begun, spinning her out into the heart of the throng without even a side glance at Sam.

Just like that, the song stream segwayed into another, and the DJ began rattling off the virtues of the bar's premium feature drinks. TracieLynn clapped lightly, nodded and muttered appreciation to her dance partner and caught Sam's eye. Her fingers flicked in a walking motion as she pretended to powder her face. Sam nodded and waved once then watched her thread the crowd in the direction of the disco's back corner. When he looked up, her dance partner was standing right beside him.

"Sam?" came the deep, earthy voice, punching through the disco throb.

"Rupertt?"

"That's right." A very large, muscular, black hand jutted out.

Sam rose and accepted the hand, startled by its grip and the press of the four ornate rings, one adorning each finger. "With two T's, right?" he said, hoping the music masked the slight strain in his voice.

"You retain what you learn. I like that."

"So do you, apparently. You singled her right out."

"How could I miss her? She's the most beautiful creature in here, nothing at all like those pictures you sent."

Sam nodded. "I know. She chopped her hair for this trip. I wish she hadn't."

"What are you talking about, my man? It's perfect on her. Cute, cool, comfortable, and easy to fix--just what a girl needs for a place like this."

Just like in many of the e-mails they'd exchanged, Sam found himself grudgingly agreeing with Rupertt, though most times he really didn't want to.

"I suppose, you're right. Anyway, she'll be back in a second. So what do you think?"

"Honest opinion? Piece of cake."

"You're sure?" Sam uttered before he could stop himself.

Rupertt frowned, looked to both sides, and then leaned in by Sam's ear.

"Look here, my man. You recall the credentials that come with those two T's? Over 50 white wives for me now, with just 2 that I was unsuccessful on and, but for a different way of going about it, they would have been in the bag too. When I know I can convert one, it's a sure thing." He draped one meaty arm across Sam's shoulders and put his lips right next to his ear. "From meeting her just now along with everything you've revealed about her--assuming you weren't bullshitting me any--I'll have TracieLynn going black by this Saturday."

The words were soft and low, but Sam's ear felt jarred as if they'd been shouted. A big part of him still refused to believe that his wife of five years--a woman who'd, other than his own, had never had another cock in her hand let alone inside her pussy--would eagerly and willingly accept some strange one. One of any color, that was, never mind big and black.

Rupertt stepped back and leveled a hard look at him.

"That's assuming you still want this to happen. And I mean really. Can't be any doubts or uncertainty here. Your role is too important this week, Sam. Make or break stuff that I need your full support on. So what'll it be? Stop or go? Decide."

A flash of cream and golden caught his eye in back of the crowd. The line at the toilet must have been short, amazingly enough. The turning point had arrived and was now waiting, standing next to him with a chiseled black body bearing extra inches--in multiple dimensions actually.

But it was impossible and ridiculous. TracieLynn just wasn't the type, something he'd been stewing over the many months leading up to this trip. Nope. Too devoted, contented, proper, traditional--all the attributes that made up a perfectly good wife in the most biblical of ways. And that was not only disheartening and unsatisfying for Sam, it was a challenge he couldn't resist taking.

"Sam? Whaddayasay?"

"Let's do it."

"All right now! That's what I'm talking about! See you two at the pool tomorrow."

With that, Rupertt vanished, just before TracieLynn cleared the last knot of intervening bodies and shuffled up, more delighted than a girl in her favorite chocolate store.

"Oh, Sam. This place is wonderful, better than what we heard and read. We're going to have a real blast this whole week. I know it." She took his hand and led him into the pulsing throng. She laughed, a carefree sound, as she twisted and swayed to the rhythm. "Did you see that guy I was dancing with earlier?"

"Did I? He was a hunk," Sam shouted into the music's blare. "I love watching you have fun like that. We need to do more of that this week, Honey. Much more."

She didn't slow her dance, but her pretty face took on a calculated look for just an instant.

"Really?"

"It's why we came," Sam assured her, though he wasn't yet feeling so certain himself.

Sleep didn't come easy to Sam that night, just like it hadn't after the initial virtual meeting with Rupertt and the early private chat room stages of planning his wife's conversion to black cock addict. He couldn't sleep nights when he'd yielded to Rupertt more of her secrets or intimate little details or sexual habits and preferences or photo files. Each set of files had cost him dearly. Even the clothed pictures had kept him awake fretting. But nothing like the nude ones though. He'd thought long and hard before slowly mashing the Enter key on that particular e-mail. Rupertt's reward had come back shortly after--a shot of the same photo but now covered with streams of thick semen that criss-crossed her breasts, nipples and face. Sam had sprayed his own load onto his cupped palm gazing at that enhanced picture. That was ten months ago and he still liked masturbating to it regularly, though Rupertt now possessed copies of all the naked photos he'd ever taken of TracieLynn, most of which had returned to Sam cum-covered with promises that what Sam saw on the outside would soon be deep inside her.

Sam and TracieLynn started their Jamaican Tuesday morning in lazy fashion, taking a late breakfast before heading to the largest salt water pool of the four at the resort. His wife had chosen her stark white bikini. Not her skimpiest, by any means, but it looked fabulous on her anyway and especially stood out as her skin baked to a golden brown doneness.

About half an hour after they'd set up on lounges, Rupertt made his appearance. He acted totally casual, just happy to see them again, coincidentally like. TracieLynn made the introduction without asking Rupertt to remind her his name, and Sam felt that bone-crushing grip once more. At least the rings were absent this time. In fact, Rupertt's only bling was a thin gold chain bearing a tiny amulet of circles and lines, impossible to make out without staring too closely.

At some point, Sam left to fetch cold drinks, bypassing the pool-side waiter. He circled to the cabana bar across the pool and sat where he could view his wife and the man who would transform her. Rupertt was already poised on the lounge beside her, telling some highly animated tale involving lots of gestures and arm waves. The man positively rippled with muscles and the light sheen from exertion made him glow in the mid-morning sun.

Hunk. Stud. God.

Lots of similar words paraded through Sam's mind as he watched Rupertt perform. His wife, though, was an even more telling story. TracieLynn had struck her own pose, one leg fully outstretched, one knee drawn up, partially reclined on the lounge but with her chest turned toward Rupertt, sunglasses fixed on him, she clearly was liking what she saw.

Fair enough. That didn't mean she would fuck him though. She just happened to enjoy the view and what girl wouldn't? Rupertt was high calorie eye candy on anyone's menu. And he knew it well.

Sam lingered a bit to let Rupertt weave his spell some before he trotted back with the drinks.

"Honey, Rupertt says beginner snorkeling starts today right after lunch. Wouldn't that be fun?"

"You bet," he answered, turning to Rupertt. "You going?"

"I teach. And actually, there won't be too many beginners since several showed up yesterday at the so-called intermediate session. Definitely, come on out."

"We will," Sam assured. He couldn't help but notice a flicker of satisfaction pass across TracieLynn's face.

Rupertt stayed and chatted for a while longer before leaving them to go work out and fetch himself an early lunch. He was a machine in everything he did, Sam thought. If there ever was a man who had a chance at scoring his wife's pussy, that was him. Was she up to the challenge? Would she successfully resist him?

Conflict pounded within Sam's chest. He was certain that she would but he wished... hoped... almost prayed that she wouldn't. And that was the confusing part, which always flared up in him regarding these thoughts. Confident that his wife would choose to remain his--and his only--but at the same time, desiring of her to give in fully to temptation. Just once, at least. For just one, small nibble of forbidden fruit.

That afternoon the snorkeling session went as advertised. Rupertt took charge of them as the only true, virgin beginners while the rest of the group swam off for more enriching experiences. Sam participated but hung back, letting Rupertt have considerable quality instructor time with his wife, which he fully exploited by never being more than three feet away from TracieLynn, often times right up against her.

The contrast of their two flesh tones struck Sam as incredibly stunning. The black man was big enough to fully envelop her; from above or below, it didn't matter. A tingle started up in Sam's crotch at the resulting mental images. When Rupertt's hand settled under her belly to hold her flat atop the Gulf's warm waters, the tingle became a dull ache. He felt the slight throb of a half-formed erection as he tried to will one of those thick black digits to slip casually into her bikini bottom. Just one knuckle's worth, probing around for treasure under that white cloth.

"Please!" Sam whispered into the waves.

Rupertt caught him looking, even through the well-used dive mask. A smirk touched his lips before he went back to coaching TracieLynn. It was at that point Sam declared he would wait ashore.

Leaning back under the wide beach umbrella, he had the sand to himself. His wife was now diving and surfacing alone with the big black cock owner that would perform her conversion. Sometimes they'd be mask-to-mask after surfacing, laughing, treading the gentle swells with ease. Perhaps Rupertt had brushed that big tool up against her a few times by now. Perhaps she had been initially surprised by it and now was more curious than anything, wanting another chance close encounter. Perhaps she'd even caused one of those encounters in order to get a better feel. Images formed in Sam's mind of her tits and neatly trimmed chestnut bush as she donned her bikini that morning, but instead of them being clean and tidy like they had been, the images had ropes of thick cum streamed across them. It caked in some places, ran and dripped off her in others. Then she spread her legs apart, and a gush of white splashed down her thigh in rippling waves. It was at that point he felt the deep pulses surge in his own groin, and he barely had enough time to yank his cock out so it could spray its feeble load onto the sand.

Face flushing, he smeared dry sand across the thin lines and scattered drops of cum he'd spewed, obliterating all traces of it. As it always did, the ejaculation dampened his burning urge to get TracieLynn up close and personal with a black cock, but the ache in his groin persisted as he watched them play for another 45 minutes. Having Rupertt actually live, performing with her right before his eyes, stoked his urge again in very little time. And right behind that urge, the images flared in his mind once more....

Back to the disco that evening and--surprise!--Rupertt showed up. At least Sam felt he'd put on a show of being appropriately surprised for his wife. Couldn't have her suspect any collaboration, after all. Not that she would.

TracieLynn had chosen a short skirt, flats, and a sleeveless aqua blouse with a V-neck that plunged past her pushup bra. As his wife took her first dance with the black man, Sam could tell Rupertt complimented her selection when they both stared for a long moment at her augmented cleavage while they bantered and joked. Then TracieLynn shot a quick sideways glance at Sam before laughing uproariously at their little transgression.

"Just you wait, sweetheart," Sam muttered. "He wants to put much more than his gaze on your lovely tits." And Sam would give anything at that point to watch Rupertt do it, though part of him still withheld its blessing, keeping the conflict ever churning inside, convinced she would never expose her delicious quarter-sized nipples to any other man but him.

When TracieLynn left for a toilet visit, Rupertt dragged him outside.

"Did you fuck her last night?" Rupertt wanted to know.

"No. She--"

"Good. You're not allowed to fuck her. Understand?"

Sam nodded slowly.

"Don't look like that. You want an explanation? I'll give you two reasons, my man. One, the next guy that fucks her is going to be me. And two, that's exactly what you want. Don't tell me you weren't thinking about my cock inside her at the beach today. I saw you watching us and you looked like any other hubby hungry to see his wife taken by the black man."

Sam's jaw dropped open. He wheezed out of his mouth.

"That's right. It was that obvious, my man. You are so ready for this to happen, though I think there's still a little voice holding you back. That voice will make you a true cuckold, friend, one that always feels, in part, that surrendering his wife is fucked up. That he shouldn't do it, but he can't help it and won't stop it. Listen to that voice, my man. Keep it alive in there because it puts the edge on your thrill. Over 50 hubbies have informed me that's the case, and after a little while, that thrill becomes about the only thing giving them true, complete satisfaction. Stronger than crack. Nothing else comes close."

The thought was scary. And tempting, with its unmatched danger factor. To become so addicted, he couldn't imagine it. Forbidden fruit again, that no one should be permitted, but something he'd like to sample just once, flirting with the chance of getting hooked forever. Would that be so bad?

"Are you listening to me?" Rupertt had been talking.

"Sorry."

"Pay attention! Keep your hands--and dick--off her. Got it? Tonight I'm going to do a lot of dancing with her. You should work in a few too, okay? That lets her catch her breath and control her thoughts, which are starting to jumble, if you haven't noticed. But this has to be done at a steady pace, so take a few dances and be a supportive hubby. Got that?"

Sam nodded.

"Lastly, come up with an excuse to not go snorkeling with us tomorrow. I want the whole time alone with her so I can set the stage. Then tomorrow night back here, I'll give you my take on the outlook. Okay, my man? Are you with me? Can you do your job on this?"

"I can."

"Then you'll get exactly what you want out of it. Trust me."

But that little voice Rupertt had mentioned still said otherwise. It was supposed to, apparently, which was a good thing any way you looked at it. Sam felt torn as he watched his wife dance with Rupertt, offering up encouragement when they had their own turn on the floor.

"Gosh, you look like you're really enjoying yourself out here with our new friend Rupertt. I swear I could watch you two all night, Honey."

"You mean that?"

"Why wouldn't I? Nothing's more important to me than you being totally happy and that's exactly how you look. Ecstatic. Delighted. I soooo want to see more of that look on you."

She frowned slightly, again in that calculating way, but said in a breathy voice, "I'm really lucky to have you, Sam."

In their bungalow that night, she chose to attempt what he called her subtle approach. Without outright asking, she let him know that she was open to them having sex. A suggestive word here. An inviting comment there. Some prolonged bare naked time after shedding her sweaty disco clothes certainly stirred Sam's cock and she noticed that.

My God, how could any sane man resist the allure of a 26-year-old beauty primed and burning to fuck him on the spot? But he did, by simply refusing to accept any of her invitations. The confusion on her face as he shut off the light was the same look he felt certain she'd have if he mentioned that he really wanted to see Rupertt's cock, not his own, plunging into her, over and over. Half an hour after her breathing deepened, he slid out of bed and went to the toilet in order to empty the load boiling in his balls into the commode.

"Sorry, Honey," he whispered as his semen dribbled into the water. "Your next load will be a black one, thick and huge. More cum and deeper than you'll ever get from me." Probably buckets of it, just like in his mental images and exactly what Rupertt had promised.

Back in bed, the Blacken TracieLynn Urge again waned, as usual. But it roared back as he imagined just how much cum she'd take from that black monster and in what ways she'd feel it spurting in the back of her pussy and across her cervix. He went to sleep fully erect.

She was a bit reserved Wednesday morning and stayed that way until shortly after Rupertt joined them at the pool. The black magician had her smiling again and soon laughing at his jokes and antics. It was at that point, Sam decided to make his announcement.

"Dear, I think I'm going to skip snorkeling today. I'd like to get some swings in on the driving range, and right after lunch, I hear, is a good time. But you and Rupertt should still go for the session. Pick up where you left off yesterday. Have some fun."

She almost didn't seem to hear.

"Hmmm? Oh. Okay," she said, distracted. "I'll see you this afternoon then."

Sam didn't bother visiting the driving range. Instead, he snagged a floppy hat and resort towel to use as a minimal disguise and then trotted over to the beach area to find an obscure place to freely observe.

Like yesterday, Rupertt and TracieLynn pealed off to do their own exclusive snorkeling. And like yesterday, they hung together practically in each other's shadow. But 30 minutes into the session, they bailed out to the beach where they laid side-by-side on a pair of towels. They talked in serious tones, their faces mere inches apart as the intensity of their conversation drew them together. At one point, Rupertt lightly traced his fingers across her shoulder and down her arm. She looked where his fingers had glided and then rolled over onto her stomach as he rose and fetched a bottle of sunscreen from the instructor's supply chest. When he returned, she had already untied her bikini top and lay with her arms crossed under her head.