Hi! I hope everybody had a great weekend!
I've heard several reasons why we should keep writing about me and skip over what's going on with him right now. OK. I'm more interesting,he says. That depends on your point of view. Can't I be curious too? Why is it that I'm always the one who's being questioned? Really.
He's on a roll for the past several days,one question after another,and most of them asked with the assumption that I'll write my answers on this thread. I'm OK with that,except that answering every question he asks with a definitive answer isn't possible. He's asked most of these questions before and I'm sure I did my best to answer them. My answers might be different now than some time in the past or future,depending on my mood and my train of thought at the time I answer. OK? I'll attempt to answer some of what he thinks are the most important questions. My answers are based on what I know now more than what I knew when these things happened. I know I wasn't thinking about what was happening from an objective point of view,nor was I expecting to be asked questions about it all these years after it happened.
Number one question:When did I become addicted to black sex. First,that's not my choice of terminology,but it's what everybody says,so I've kinda gotten used to it. That also sums up my thoughts about black sex for me. I got used to it. I got spoiled to it. I've argued that using the word addiction makes it sound like something that's bad for me,and it's not. Black sex is good for me. It excites me and if it doesn't actually keep me young,it certainly keeps me in touch with my youth.
Something happened when I was in Victor's bed that changed everything for me. I was more alone and more needy than I had ever been before. He was the only man around in the weeks that I was completely alone and on my own for the first time. It was hard to persuade Victor to fuck me and I was getting hotter and hotter while I was trying. He was a good-looking man,and I think his being twice my age was stronger in my consciousness than that he was black. I had only been with guys who were near my age. As it happened,I almost literally turned twenty years old in Victor's bed. Not to get too philosophical,because it was just the beginning,but I think I expected sex with Victor to fulfill me as a woman. As I ponder that memory tonight,I think it did. The physical and psychological aspects of my sex with Victor can't be separated in my memory. He was a big man and his cock was enormous,seriously challenging for me. I was straining to accept him inside me,but if there was any pain,I don't remember it. What I remember is feeling euphoric.
That's the first part of my answer to when I became addicted to black sex. The second part of my answer relies entirely on hindsight. I've had to think hard about how to answer that question. I've always tried to do what felt right for the time. I had been a Good Time Girl before I ended up in that apartment,waiting while my hubby went away to his training. I knew early in my relationship with Curt that he was enjoying manipulating me and I was perfectly fine with it because I enjoyed it too. I knew he could help me perfect my dancing. He said that it was better to be an erotic dancer than an exotic dancer,and that to be an erotic dancer I had to be a skilled seductress. He watched my every move and critiqued me often,almost always in private.
Curt and I never discussed the interracial aspect of my relationship with him,Victor,or the guys who ended up coming there,and as I've tried to explain,it was weeks into the situation before I thought much about the fact that they were all black. Although the whole thing came together rather quickly,it seemed gradual while it was happening. There were a couple of guys,then another. I was dancing on the table,then the incident when the table broke,then they bought the octagon table. Then,there were some real parties on the balcony. More guys were coming to watch me dance,and soon it they were fucking me often enough to keep me sore. If I have to give a definitive answer about when I became addicted to black sex,I have to say it was then. That was another threshold crossed,any limits that I thought I had were exceeded. Those guys rarely cut me any slack,even when I was on my period. Somebody would always take me into the shower to fuck me or throw a towel on the bed for me to lay on. Although I didn't realize that as a defining time as it was happening,I had become conscious of the interracial aspect of the situation and it had become a super turn-on for me. I found myself thinking about it a lot,but I didn't mention it to anyone until my hubby came home. There was some trepidation on the part of a few of the guys just before my hubby came home and the words black and white were mentioned,but that was all. Nerves gave way to lust and we carried on. After that,there was an occasional compliment to which I always reciprocated with as much finesse as I could.
Second question is one that I won't answer,partly because I couldn't if I wanted to,but I'll address the question. How many men have fucked me? I don't know. I've never wanted or tried to keep tally,except for short periods of time when I felt wonderfully overwhelmed. I'm not going to tell the details,except to admit that in a short time after those guys started coming to Curt's,I was fucked by more black men than the total of all the men who had fucked me before. My hubby sometimes puts more importance on that than I think necessary. That's his thing more than mine. All I'll say is that there have been two,three,or four day periods when he had the choice of counting some of his fingers twice or taking off his shoes to count his toes. HA!
He doesn't want to talk about himself,but I can't leave this alone. It is what it is,no matter what words you use to describe it. We've lived most of our married lives thinking of ourselves as informal swingers. I've been a shared wife from the beginning,and during the times when it hasn't been necessary to keep everything secret,I've always been known to be hot for black men.
Our playing with each other has always involved me teasing and sometimes mildly taunting him. Of course we're familiar with the dictionary definition of cuckolding,but we didn't consider that it might fit us until relatively recently. No way would I have guessed that there was such a large number of people interested in interracial cuckolding,or that it's a chosen lifestyle for so many. At first,after discovering this site and some other informing and enlightening information,we thought ourselves to have more differences than commonalities with most people who practice the lifestyle.
Now? Maybe my dear hubby's thinking more about conforming.
lol!