The add in the swinger magazine read:
Wife: 352
My wife April is 25, and at 5′ 11″ she is very tall and curvy. When she wears a pair of 4-inch heels she turns heads from across any room. Her hard tipped breasts are smooth, soft and perfectly shaped. She swims and works out regularly which gives her a hard flat tummy and trim figure. April’s long blonde hair, beautiful blue eyes and long sexy legs make her look a little like the blonde model in the Victoria’s Secret catalog she always gets. She and I have a recurring fantasy where I arrange dates for her. In our fantasy I am the one who first meets with her prospective date, deciding first if he’s right for her, then setting up the time and place where they will meet. I also get to choose the clothes she will wear for him, from her sexy little dress to her tiny g-string panties. Sometimes she has no idea who she will be meeting, getting only a name and physical description. The mystery only adds to her anticipation. Other times we might meet a guy at a party or bar and she’ll whisper to me exactly how she’d like to get to know him better. In the hours leading up to her evening out, I watch her get ready for her date. Seeing her put on her favorite lingerie is what wet dreams are made of and she loves teasing me with little comments about what her date will soon see and touch. Out of her love and respect for me though, she always wears her wedding ring no matter whom she’s out with. Personally I think it just adds to the naughtiness.
When I returned his I wife I sent him this detailed note for his masturbatory pleasure…
I just can’t tell you how wonderful it is for a traveling businessman like myself to get such beautiful womb service as this. I realize it takes a lot of trust on your part also to set up a date with me and your wife April, without ever having met me face to face. I guess what they say about staying at the Hilton is true, or else you would never have brought your wife to me that night. Though you can imagine her surprise when April joined me for dinner in their plush dinning room when the maitre-d guided her to the table of the only black man there.
I must say in all fairness though, that the surroundings paled by comparison to the Hellenic beauty your wife presented in her beige colored, loose fitting slinky, strapless evening gown as her body swiveled and danced underneath it on her way to my table thanks to those high heels, and the slit up the middle must have given every man in the place an instant hard on revealing the amount of Smokey Christian Dior clad leg that it did. I most heartily approved of the way April’s gold blond hair was piled atop of her head, allowing her swan like neck to be bared. It added to the sinful exposure of delicate white skin above presented by her gown and matching elbow length gloves.
A true lady of court on the outside hiding a fiery passion underneath she smiled. Her lower lip giving a quick trembled pout as she was seated with me. She hadn’t expected her date to be a Black man, a former All State Basketball player, and I’m sure I was a little bit more of a surprise than she had bargained for. I could see that, oh dear, what have I gotten myself into this time, look behind those dazzling bright blue eyes of hers.
Did you know that most women know by the time their Shrimp Cocktail arrives weather or not they will go to bed with a man? It was very sly of you to let her take her cell phone along on her date, but I’ll bet you expected more information when she called you on your car phone, didn’t you? Surely much more than just, “I’ll call you when I’m ready to come home.”
Dinner was a wonderful exchange of information and ideas as well as hand holding over the table’s linen cloth, and footsies under the similarly curtained table. We drank chilled Dom and ate hot crab, and escargot packed in mushroom caps, each warming to the other as the seconds ticked by. After I signed for the check we adjourned to the lounge for drinks, where we picked out a cozy couch in the darker area to get further acquainted.
Imagine my surprise when after our drinks were brought over, and the waitress dismissed with a tip, that April snaked onto my lap, wrapped her gloved arms around my neck then closed for a kiss whispering, “your my first black lover ever,” just before her bright red painted lips touched my black ones, and her tongue slithered into my mouth with an ancient secret hunger. Our tongues fought first in my mouth then in hers, hands moved of their own accord, fingers touched, groped, felt. That kiss lasted a lifetime, but it was only the beginning. The animal inside had been uncaged, and wouldn’t return to its confines until its lust had been satiated.
“I am yours,” April breathed heavily in my ears, “show me how it feels to be your white slut.”
“Go to the powder room,” I instructed, “and bring me back your panties.”
April wasn’t gone very long, and upon her return laid what little there was to that private gossamer cloth beside my drink on the glass covered coffee table next to our couch before flowing back into my arms and lap. I found out quickly that she was wearing a garter belt to hold up those Christian Dior’s, but nothing else was under that elegant dress other than April, and that was fine by me. When the three-piece combo started, I guided our April to the dance floor. From there we proceeded to give a display of such sensuous vulgarity that the other patrons became little more than voyeurs in our staging of interracial relationships. We merely bowed to the applause, as I retrieved my treasured trophy from the coffee table, and holding it aloft for all to see led April to my suite via the elevators.
The doors no sooner closed on the lobby as we were swept up, than your wife had my black tube steak in her hands. Then going to her knees April tried to swallow all eleven inches in one gulp. The lady had left the building leaving a slut at my feet, and what a magnificent cocksucking slut she was indeed. With her head bobbing up and down in my crotch, her lips sliding along most of the length of my prick, I helped her out of her gown. Now anyone could have gotten in that elevator on the way up to my suite as there is a Night Club at the top of this Hilton, but as luck had it we made it to my floor without a scandal. With my black hand possessively stuck on her tight white ass, and her boobies bouncing out in the open we walked to my door. I unlocked it with the key card, swooped April up into my arms, and over the threshold into my bedroom where I gently laid her on the king-sized mattress.
I took this time, while getting out of my tux, to admire April’s transformation to pure bitch-n-heat status. As I’m sure you’re more than aware, that black satin garter belt holding up those smoky nylons along with her beige high heel pumps, gave April that high caliber call girl next door look we’ve seen in Playboy since it came out in the 50’s. And when she at last let down her golden tresses, I was sure I would have to check for staples around her navel.
As I finished undressing April laid back on my bed in readiness, her hair fanned out as a halo around her head now, her thighs parted, legs spreading wider, knees bent, arms stretched out in that pleading position of all whores, married or not. Her gloves now on the floor by the dresser at last revealed the gold band on her left ring finger.
Adulterous affair insinuated itself through my brain, tickling my nasty to it’s limits. I moved right in between those velvety smooth thighs head first, my tongue tasting flesh from stocking top to pubic mound. Not shaven, but very nicely trimmed I let my tongue glide along the length of that cute moist slit all the way to that protruding man in the boat sticking out on top. It was glorious, I tell you, how just a touch of my tongue to that sensitive nubbin had April moaning like a tortured soul as her first climax of the night slammed into her right then. Oh yes, I’d seen this happen to many white girls in the past. That first touch of black sin on their naked holy of holies is just too much for them to take, and they topple off of their pedestals in orgasmic tepidity such as they have never known in their lives. I stared in fascination at your wife as she writhed before me in taboo’s sacred dance, a white girl with her first black man, a willing pawn to her husband’s devilish desires, and my ebony passion.
April was beyond ready, she was wanton. My lips and tongue moved up along her flesh, stopping only to tickle her button, and suckle at her breasts. With my ebony wand knocking at the gates to paradise, your wife, my slut of the night, grabbed hold of my prick and helped me get the first inch into her ivory soul.
April was extremely tight for a married woman who had had numerous affairs before I came along, no doubt they had all been white boys. Only her effusive lubrication made it possible for me to enter her at all, let alone slowly enter her entirely, stretching out her channel inch by glorious inch until my balls kissed against her soft butt. You should have heard your wife while this was happening, it looked liked lamas training for natural child birth the way she forced herself to breath, her eyes wide open locked on where we were joined stared in total disbelief as the entire length of my black monster was slowly crammed into her previously pristine lily patch. I in turn watched her lovely face turn from angelic innocence, to whorish maturity in only minutes. I love fucking young white women, and being their first black lover is the same to me as getting her cherry was to her first white cock, that’s how tight they are to me.
“Oh yes! Yes! Yes!” April screamed with every inch, climaxing the entire time I was entering her. That taboo thing I mentioned earlier, remember.
Once ensconced, fully buried in your wife’s cunt, I waited a moment to let her body get accustomed to me, relishing that divine clutching massage her pussy was giving my prick. When at last she settled down, I slowly began a pistoning action.
“Oh fuck! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me with your big black cock, baby! Oh shit! It’s so fucking BIG! So fucking good! Don’t stop baby! Don’t ever stop fucking me with that big black cock of yours! Not ever! I’m your slut for life!”
I know you expected her back the next day, but she didn’t want to leave right away, and it was the weekend after all. I also realize that you expected me to relate all of those little details about the candlelight, and the ring thing, but hey, at least you saw our parting kiss. With my black hands possessively squeezing her recently fucked ass, (Did she tell you about that?) as my tongue went right for her voice cords. Bet that made your wiener steamer in that Beamer.
I still have those panties. She signed them you know. Even wrote her phone number on the dried crotch in case I get back into town. Hope ya didn’t fall in when you two fucked at home, but hey, what do you expect lending out your fine lady like that? I told you I was black over the phone, remember?