Chapter 2

 

James didn’t satisfy me as often as I hoped he would. At first, we made love almost every night, then every week, then every month until finally, we made love occasionally, but I’m getting ahead of myself a little. I loved James, he was my husband, my best friend. Our lives didn’t revolve around having sex.

I finished my graduate work and was offered a wonderful job as a consultant trainee for a company headquartered near us in Texas working with the oil and gas industry. Because of my education and their need for more females higher up in the company, I was assigned to one of the best teams.

After spending a year or two in headquarters learning the basics, I was expected to spend time at a one of our clients’ substations, learning from people in the field. Eventually, I’d be traveling, visiting operations all over the world.

My boss, Holt, was the most impressive man I’d ever met. When we were introduced, he took my breath away. I wasn’t the sort of woman who was easily infatuated—I wasn’t impressed by a person’s physical appearance, I was impressed by the person inside.

Holt was the whole package. I was frozen in my tracks when I was introduced to this tall, handsome black man who had risen through the ranks because of his skill, knowledge of the industry, and his gift for working with people. He was so talented, he was in demand everywhere. Every conference wanted him as a speaker, every other consulting firm wanted to hire him, every employee wanted to work for him. He would be my boss, my mentor; he would fill my days, and although he didn’t know it, he would fill my nights as well.

James didn’t know I had a vibrator, a small “bullet” I would hold against my pussy, against my clitoris until the vibrations brought me the release my husband hadn’t. I kept it hidden in my panty drawer and only took it out when my James wasn’t home. I’m embarrassed to admit my thoughts wandered more and more to Holt as I held the tiny shiny vibrator to my pussy. I mentally pictured him naked at first, then naked and bending over me as I orgasmed. I’d spasm so hard, my entire body would quake as I pictured my handsome black boss naked, kissing me. Having his way with me.

Even though I imagined Holt naked as we made love, I was never able to imagine his erection. I saw his face, his lips, and his strong chest, but I couldn’t form a picture of his cock. I was unable to imagine what he looked like there. My fantasy became more explicit over time. I started out just thinking about Holt, then progressed to his making love to me.

Eventually, I developed a story in my mind of Holt calling me into his office and after closing his office door, ordering me to strip for him. He told me I was beautiful, and he wanted to see me naked. I’d do as I was told, so under his spell, I’d take off my clothes and stand naked before him as he touched me. He’d hold my breasts and roughly caress my sensitive nipples before thrusting his hand between my legs. I wouldn’t have a choice, I’d have to stand there while he touched me until finally, he’d bend me over and spread my ass cheeks wide, so he could put his swollen cock inside me.

He wouldn’t say a word. He’d just take what he wanted from me. When he’d start to enter me, in my mind, I’d let myself go. My orgasms thinking about my boss while I used the tiny vibrator were more than satisfying.

I loved my husband, I valued our relationship and friendship more than anything, but my fantasy sex life sustained me through long periods of less than fulfilling lovemaking.

As Holt and I worked together, I couldn’t help wondering what he looked like with his shirt off and what kind of lover he was. He was always so friendly, but his smile looked more than friendly, maybe even slightly cruel. It was probably just my overheated imagination.

I was required to work in the field after my time at our headquarters. I was sent to a producing station in the middle of Texas to work with field management and accounting. It was tough on James; at first, he commuted to the remote area where I was whenever he could, but as time went on, his visits became rarer. The only motel anywhere close was run down and small. It had been built at least fifty years earlier which was about the time they’d last bought new sheets and towels.

I went home whenever I could get away. It was sweet being with James even if we spent more time apart than we did together. We did talk often over video chat, but it wasn’t the same as being held by my husband.

On one of my trips home while James was teaching a weekend lab, I used our joint computer. I hadn’t been on it for several months and was shocked when I opened the browser. My husband had left the tabs open to the sites he’d been visiting. I didn’t snoop, I wouldn’t have even thought to do something like that. The tabs were right there in front of me.

In fact, the browser opened to a site about Big Black Cocks and the Hotwifes who loved them! I was shocked to see short video clips of married women being filmed by their husbands, naked with black men. What kind of man would give his wife to be used like that by another man?

I was shocked by what I saw, the men were huge! I’d only seen James’ cock, I had no idea some men were so large. My breath caught in my throat as I watched a married woman have an orgasm so powerful, it left her too weak to move while her husband filmed her while playing with himself.

This was what my husband was doing when I was gone? Did he have fantasies of me with a large black man? Was that what he thought about, did he want me to be with a large black man while he watched and played with himself?

I was so confused. It was almost like my husband was cheating on me—watching those clips and probably jacking off. He was looking at other women while I was gone! He was watching the wives of other men have sex and not just sex. They were being fucked by black men, sometimes more than one at a time, with cocks bigger than I would have thought possible. All the while, their own husbands were filming them. Part of me felt like I’d been abandoned.

Despite my anger at James, I found I’d become excited. I did the same thing my husband had been doing! I was mesmerized by the video, and as I’d watched it again, I pushed my hand inside my jeans and my panties to stroke my excited, damp clitoris. When the woman reached her peak, I climaxed along with her. The feeling was so strong, my muscles all tightened, then released, leaving me breathless.

What would I do if James wanted me to become a ‘hotwife?’ I’d never even heard the expression before. Would I be offended? I was so bewildered. It wasn’t like we were having sex anything like the woman in the video. What would it be like to be with the man she was with? If I had James’ permission, would it be cheating? All I knew was my husband liked watching married women with other men, and my panties were so wet, I had to change clothes.

I didn’t confront him about what I’d seen, maybe I should have. All he wanted to do in bed was to go down on me, which I liked, but he didn’t want me to touch him anymore. I saw how excited he was, but he didn’t want me to help him. The pattern of our love life had changed.

 

****

 

I was the only woman in the facility with a group of male roughnecks, men who worked hard with their hands all day, often wearing little more than a hard hat, shorts, and boots in the one hundred degrees plus weather. As the only female, I found myself to be the center of their attention. It wasn’t that they found me to be especially attractive, but I was the only woman they saw during the week, and they competed for my attention.

At first, I was intimidated by all the notice they paid me and the small favors they did to win my approval. As time went on, I learned to enjoy it and I’m ashamed to say, encourage it. One of the women at headquarters had taken me under her wing and helped me improve my wardrobe and makeup. She’d even help me get a handle on my unruly red hair.

I could have reverted to the Brooke I had been in graduate school except I received even more attention from the men when I made myself more presentable looking. Most importantly, Holt would unexpectedly visit the facility every month or so, and I wanted to look my best for him. Some of this was subconscious—I was surrounded by sweaty, brawny men who wanted to strip me naked and do unspeakable things to me, and as time went on, I wanted to encourage their fantasies about me.

When James visited, I would attack him. Stripping naked, I’d use my mouth on him while he lay on his back, before climbing his body and lowering my overheated pussy to his mouth. I probably should have been more guarded with my feelings, but by the time he visited, I’d be so horny, so aroused, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I’m human, I needed sex, and I’d been denying myself in the middle of a group of well-built and equally horny men who would have… well, fucked me in a minute if I let them.

I spent weeks listening to their sexual innuendos and overtures. I spent my nights reading racy novels—some of them about hotwifes—and playing with my vibrator, using my go-to fantasy. I needed a man.

James tried, he did the best he could. He was a good...