I watched as my wife's stud pulled out of her, his cum trickling onto the coffee table. She got up and put back on her polyester uniform pants, her fat ass leaving two sweaty circles on top of the table. To think a year ago she was an executive, who would never have worn polyester, and did not even really know one black person, but now? How did it all happen?
A year ago my wife came home from work early with a cardboard box in her hands, her desk plant on top. She looked pale, without her saying anything I knew what had happened. "I didn't think they'd let me go. Me of all people. They said the company was too top heavy with management."
She cried a little and I told her to relax. She had a degree, the house was paid for, and there was that severance package, very generous, though due to a non-competition clause she could not work in the industry for a rival company for a year. I told her we would be fine.
After a month she became bored. She tried to find work but she was overqualified for this or that, and the jobs she could have had she could, not due to the non-competition clause. Finally she decided to go to work in, of all places, a chain coffee house. She said it would be a nice break from all the pressure of the financial industry. It was nice for a while until I noticed some changes in her.
Since she no longer had the perk of a gym in the building she worked at she had put on some weight, even more so from the donuts she ate at the place, most of it landing on her butt or tits. Her once tight aerobic sculpted ass was now well rounded and slightly soft, she had even gone up, to my pleasure, a bra size or two.
Then I noticed her musical tastes had changed, she had liked that light FM sort of music, now rap was working its way onto her music player and the car stereo presets. I tried to write it off as adjustments, even hanging late with the girls at work, or going out with them after work. And for a while things relaxed, until I got suspicious.
There were still more changes in her, she got those huge door-knocker earrings and even a tattoo with her name on her arm in a fancy script. She told me all the women at work had them and I should relax. But then one night she told me she had worked late because one of her coworkers, Sharon, could not make it in, that was okay, but a few days later she told me a story involving Sharon and an irate customer, and it took place on the day Sharon allegedly was not in. I thought to say something, but did not, maybe she was wrong about the date, then again if she was doing something, I did not want to alert her to her error.
She had kept talking about Jim the manager of the shop. She found ways of working him into her conversations. "Oh! Jim did this." or "Jim did that!" What really worried me was when she started talking about his personal life, about how his girlfriend was such a bitch, or that she did not understand him.
My suspicions grew still deeper. I was on the fence as to whether I should confront her or not. Then one day my suspicions were confirmed. My wife had called to say she would have to work late to set up a special promotion. She told me not to wait up. I started to go to bed when I realized we were out of milk for, or all ironies, coffee. Rather than take the car I decided to walk down a few blocks and buy it from the deli.
As I came back I saw an SUV in front of our place, it looked like the one Jim had. My wife and him were in there talking, I thought to approach them when, I realized she was at an odd angle to him, then I realized it, she was giving him a hand-job in his car. Though I could not see for sure, due to the distance and the height of the vehicle obscuring my line of vision. But what I could be sure of was that kiss he gave her as he grabbed her tit through the yellow uniform blouse she wore. Then she bent forward and I watched his head stare at the ceiling.
I did not know what to do next. Confront them? That could turn ugly, then the whole neighborhood would know what was going on. Hire someone to film them and go through a divorce? I did not know if I wanted to toss out a good marriage. Then there was my own huge hard-on. Why was I so turned on by this of all things? To my shame, I knew it was the thought of my wife sucking the cock of another man, and a black man at that, which had aroused me.
I fought off the temptation to take another look and walked around the block going into the house through the back entrance. I carefully put the milk in the fridge got undressed and went into the bedroom. I got into bed just in time to hear the door open.
I said and did nothing about it for a week or so, but it built up in me. I had thoughts, thoughts I knew I should not have had, of my wife riding this guy's cock to orgasm. They became more detailed, I pictured her sucking him off, then his friends, of her being gang banged, and of becoming pregnant with this man's child. And they aroused me; I tried not to jerk off about it. As if doing so would put some magic spell on the whole affair. But then it was too much for me and I did, and once I started I could not stop. I could not get the images of my wife and her black stud out of my mind. I jerked off three or four times a day, once even at work.
