How many hubbies out there wouldn't love NOT to be the man of the house? How many wouldn't wish that a real man - a Black Master - would come knock at their door and step into their home and from that moment on, take firm charge of the household, most especially the wife? Yes, a lot of hubbies would very much love for that to happen. To be made to wear a chastity lock over their pathetic pricks, knowing that they're no match for what the Black bull/Black Master is packing. Knowing it's no longer in their nature to challenge that which their wives want so dear.
How many hubbies out there who wouldn't want their wives to open up to them their innermost secrets of longing. Of how much they deserve to be made a black man's slut, to be owned and used by him sexually. They want to wear the black man's clothes whenever he's at home with them. They want to be made into a new, different type of woman, unlike that of the boring housewife they've been made to become. Yes, they want their hubbies too to become aware of what they are, and to follow suite.
Such is this hubby's confession you're about to read:
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Even now, I can’t exactly put my finger on the moment my wife ceased being my married property. Though I do recall the first time I actually began to take notice.
It was sometime around the middle week of December, at my company’s end of year dinner party. I was having a chat with Grossman, our company’s chief executive – who so happens to be my immediate boss – when out on the centre dance floor I noticed my wife, Alice, cutting a number with some tall handsome hulk of a guy. I was still talking back at my boss, reciting to him what I hope would be our company’s gross estimates for the upcoming year, while my eyes were closely taking in the view of my wife’s happy face as her dancing partner went on spinning her this and that way.
When my boss was through talking to me, I went and hovered close to the dance floor, a glass of champagne in my hand, while I watched the two of them cavort. The way the young man held a hand to her back, pulling her to him each time she seemed to drift away from his grasp was kind of intriguing – sexually. Even as I stood there watching them, in my mind’s eye I could just as easily picture the two of them making love to each other. But aside from that, the most surprising thing was that it’s really been a long while since last time I saw Alice in as happy a mood as she presently was. The past couple of months have been a kind of tug battle with me walking through a mine field, not knowing if whether I was the cause for her apparent unhappiness or not.
Yet here she was, dancing and smiling and laughing. And the way she too had her arms wrapped over the guy’s shoulder, it was as if she too didn’t want the dancing to end; that she didn’t want anything to come between them at that moment. It was a good thing that I sipped my wine and went searching for any available company to be with.
Later that night, another most surprising thing happened, something that hadn’t happened in a long while: Alice jumped on top of me and we made love – with our clothes still on. I’d barely gotten myself free from the jacket of my tux when she pushed me on the bed, undid my trouser buckle and flung it across the room before attacking the semi erection I had stuck in my shorts. She sucked my cock with vigour, her head bouncing down hard with rapid succession as she swallowed me whole. I could do nothing except press her head down on my cock, breathing hard and deep at what she was doing to me.
When she was through, she pulled her panties from underneath her skirt and came and straddled me; her hand went to the back of her hair and pulled off the pin that held it, letting everything drop to her shoulder. She went on cursing me, calling me silly names while at the same time bouncing down hard on me.
“Such a tiny cock you have,” she muttered at me, moaning at the same time. “Oh yeah ... very tiny cock you have ... Uhhh ... but I love fucking it! Go ahead and fuck me with me with that silly tiny cock you have!”
Words I’d never heard her utter before, let alone believe she would ever say, spewed from her mouth. I can’t tell you how exciting it was just hearing her talk like that, like only a wretched slut would. She yelled at me to push up her skirt and smack her ass; I did exactly that. I went on smacking her ass, loving the sound of her voice as she screamed for me to smack her harder and harder, while she went on riding me. I felt myself shoot inside of her, taking both the wind and breath out of my chest, before she too soon reached her climax and slumped down on me. We lay there hugging each other, gasping for breath, for what seemed like a long time before we finally fell asleep.
That night was the beginning of a new chapter for me and my wife. Something indeed had taken over her, but whatever it was, I couldn’t say, nor had I ever once suspected such a happening would arise. But to say that I wasn’t grateful for the new spirit in her would have been a lie, for truly I was.
It wasn’t until the next couple of days that I got the bold mind as to enquire what it was that had brought this new her to the rise. We had just finished making love again – another energetic bout that were it not for the fact that I was in my mid-forties would undoubtedly have sent me into cardiac arrest – when I brought the question to her.
But instead of her answering the question, she threw a round curve and asked matter of factly: “Would it make you feel bad to ever find me in bed with a younger man? And not just any type of man, I mean a black stud with a big swinging dick between his legs. Would that at all make you mad?”
I decided best to proceed with caution. “Is that what’s been getting you all fired up lately?”
She turned her face away for a moment, staring out the window at the front of our yard. At first I thought my question had unnerved her and was about enquiring when she turned to face me.
“You remember Sharice Allson, that friend of mine whom I hooked up with at the gym?”
“Yeah I do. I’ve played golf with her husband, George, a couple of times. What about her?”
“She’s been dating someone – some black stud of a guy. At first that was what I thought she was up to, but then she told me about this group of black guys who belong to some sort of club, and they call themselves the Tongue Patrol gang. She said she found out about them from some erotic magazine ad of sort. Ever heard of them before?”
I shook my head. The least type of magazines that I read was of the business news variety; anything else was plain sightseeing.
“Anyway, she told of how one afternoon she went over to their building and got herself sort of registered and that a few days later, when George was out of town, they came over to her place and gave her some thorough fucking, the type she’s never had before.” Alice gave a sort of girly giggle at this. “At first I said to her: ‘get out of here, Sharice.’ But then the day before we went off to that company party of yours, I stopped by her place, thinking that we would head off to the gym together and I wouldn’t believe it, one of those guys was giving her the works right there in their living room.”
“No way,” I said, too surprised at what she was telling me.
“Yes way,” she replied. “I too couldn’t believe it, but there it was happening before my eyes. I sat on a couch watching them go at it. I just felt myself go randy.”
“And Sharice was enjoying all of it?” I so much wanted to hear more.
“Oh yes she was, and the way that guy was fucking her, she was climbing the wall and screaming loud enough to bring the roof down,” she laughed, and I too joined her.
“You didn’t join in?”
“I almost wanted to ... even now I kind of regret that I didn’t. But I sure got off watching them go at it. I tell you, it was crazy. The way the guy picked her up from one couch to another, fucking her like she was some deranged slut. I watched as the guy scooped her up and took her upstairs to their bedroom. She made him lie on the bed like this ...” Alice pushed me to lie back and then she mounted herself over me. “Sharice grabbed the guy’s cock – and God, it was some mighty big fucking cock that guy had between his legs – and she rubbed it over her pussy just like this ...” she held my cock and started rubbing the cap over the opening sheath of her pussy, eliciting volts of electricity over me; she too moaned from the response she was getting. “And then she inserted the cock, and then out, like this ...” she let my cock slip into her warmness and then quickly pulled it out, let it in and pulled it out again. She did it a couple more times, making me grow hungry with breathless expectation. “And then finally she it slip all the way in. Aahhh ...” and that was she gently pushed my cock into her recess and began to ride me with a crazed sense of excitement. Her hair flew every which way; aside from our moaning came the sound of the bed slamming against the wall.
Like that we went for another couple of minutes till we both climaxed at the same time. I lay there beside her panting like someone who’d just scaled the world’s highest peak.
“You asked if I would be mad to find you in bed with a black guy, wasn’t that what you asked?”
She nodded; her head was resting on my shoulder.
I shrugged. “As long as it’s something that’ll make you happy, then you might as well go ahead and get in touch with one of this Tongue Patrol guys, as you call them. Though on only one condition.”
She raised her head to look at me. “What?”
“That unlike George, I get to watch.”
She smiled, held my head in her hands and gave me a lengthy kiss. And that was that: from that moment on, I knew that my wife would no longer completely be mine anymore. Though it was best this way – I couldn’t stand losing her and never knowing how or what happened. And I knew that no matter how promiscuous she went, when everything was over, it was to my arms she would eventually come to.
http://mastershango.com/2012/12/23/confession-when-a-hubby-plays-second/
