The Cuckold Tale

(Part 1 from 4)

I have to say it’s good to know there are other people out there living the Cuckold lifestyle. Sandra and I are from the South of England, have been married six years and have a daughter together. I love my wife very much indeed. As well as being a very attractive woman with a great figure she is popular and fun to be with. There is nothing I enjoy more than having her on my arm or of spending time with my family. 

With all this in mind I’m pleased to say that Sandra is also a self-made slut for black cock. She regularly sees other men with whom she has unprotected sex and has even been incited into private gang-bang parties. It’s been a long road I can tell you. I hope you will enjoy our tale.

Our secret life began twelve months ago when Sandra took black cock for the first time. Up until then she had never been unfaithful and was quite simply a devoted wife and mother. I’d known I would have to work hard to persuade her to go to bed with other men. A woman needs more than good looks to be a true slut. She needs to be completely willing and ready for anything. 

Above all she needs commitment and to take satisfaction in her performance. For my part this past year has brought out all kind of emotions. Jealousy, fear, joy, anger and even resentment. All in the knowledge that I had encouraged my once loyal wife to go out on dates with black men whom I know give her a far better seeing to than I ever could. 

Sandra was 27 at the end of last year and the envy of many of my friends. A wonderful woman with flawless white skin and straight, dark hair just above her slender shoulders. At a little over 5,7 her figure is delightful and curvy with a trim waist and flowing hips. I’d say her long, smooth legs and rounded thighs are perhaps her sexiest attributes although Sandra’s 34DD cleavage captures the attention. You might have guessed already that I am the type of husband that has always liked other men looking at his wife. In effect, to ogle her gorgeous body. 

Be she in a bathing costume or cocktail dress Sandra catches the eye. Even before we began our lifestyle I always knew she had what it took to be a slut wife. A desirable figure is first on the list. Not that she was an extrovert or exhibitionist. More quietly confident as they say. I know I should be grateful that she is now so willing to please me. Sometimes a husband just knows.

As is often the case, it began low-key. Whenever we went out together I would encourage her to dress provocatively. I loved seeing Sandra in a short skirt and high heels, though in the beginning she was unwilling to go quite as far as I would have liked. Especially if we where with friends and she would find it embarrassing or uncomfortable. The wedding band on her finger was a serious tie for her. Sandra had a good, strong family of her own and I provided well for her. Being well spoken and only makes the black cock even harder. 

A Christmas party was the first time I ever got her to dress like a whore. Having said ‘No’ for years she at last agreed when she saw how much it meant to me. The short outfit I had bought her months ago able to be worn at last. I’ll always remember that night. It was such a turn on. Especially seeing how self-conscious she was about showing off her gorgeous, waxed legs. So short she was pulling nervously at the hem. 

That night at least three twenty-something men tried to chat her up and she was forced to tell them she was married. How they must have looked and taken her for a slut. Something that in those early days, was a long way from the truth. 

My fantasy stretched further and I won’t lie to the fact that I dreamt even then, of watching another male fucking Sandra while I watched. I thought about it at work, at home and especially when the two of us where on holiday.

 My perverted mind drawing pictures on paper pads and using the family photos I had of her on my desk to design all sorts of twisted scenarios in my head. I imagined it would make me jealous. A feeling I knew I would relish. Still, I knew I had to be sensible. The risk of losing her too great, though I thought, somewhat painstakingly about bringing a young stud into our bedroom for real. Determined that it should not be someone we both knew. 

Yes, I know what your thinking. I was playing a dangerous game but I really wanted to make her happy. Telling myself that it was all for her. I waited until our anniversary to ask her and as an added incentive I bought her the most expensive necklace I could afford. I made an effort. Flowers, dinner, present. The look of love on my wife’s face mirrored in my own. When I put it to her I saw those dark eyes drop. Her heart sink. For a moment I thought I had lost her. Then, wiping a tear from her eye she said she would. For me. 

One night I was on the net. I’d read letters and stories. I knew my wife would go to bed with another man for me and the notion was driving me on. I’d heard and seen white couples advertising for other men. Often black males and in light of this I happened to be on an interracial site. How fateful that would be. Cuckold type relationships where real and out there. 

I read the tales with awe. women being fucked by strong, dominant men as they held their husbands hands. To be honest I’d never thought of black men seeing white women as an issue. Maybe because I hadn’t really thought about it. In the stories I’d read the men where always well hung and seemed to enjoy using white women in some sort of racial gratification. Still I found myself in a chat-room and in no time was talking to a fellow Brit. 

His name was RealManUk. The same said it all and he quickly announced himself as a true ‘Bull’. When he asked me what my interest was I didn’t lie. I had to admit that it was the reason I was there. Maybe I hadn’t realised it fully but he had. We chatted some more. Eventually he told me that he cuckolded several white, married couples in the UK and travelling for him wasn’t an issue. Especially if he got to meet women who were ‘worth it’. He asked if my wife had been ‘blacked’ before and that I send him some photos. 

Luckily I had some of our last years holiday in Spain on the computer where she had bought and worn a orange bikini top that was slightly too small for her. I had kept the pictures for myself though this was the first time anyone other than ourselves had seen them. A few days past then the email came. ‘Hasim’s’ admission was forthright and gave me palpitations. His email simply read. 
‘Enjoyed the pix very much. Would love to fuck your wife for you’. 

The words hung with me. I even posted an introduction on a Cuckold forum. Detailing how I was in the process of introducing my wife of six years to a UK bull. The response was terrific. People from all over offered support. Questions as far ranging as whether I would let her fuck without birth control to how we had come to this point in our relationship. 

Of course my mailbox had messages from other black, british men who, incensed by white pussy wanted more information with a view to meeting Sandra themselves. Several said that they too, saw several couples and where looking for new sluts to fuck. I sent the bikini picture of my wife out several times. It felt good to be sharing her already and to know these studs would be getting hard over her. Of course I still hadn’t told Sandra of my progress or of the number of people who now wanted to know how she would go on their first ‘meet’.

After a fortnight I told Sandra about Hasim. I’d heard from him several times too though I was pleased he was willing to give me time to decide. It showed that he appreciated how difficult this could be. Another photo he sent was evidence that he had a good figure. Muscular which I knew Sandra was certainly attracted too with dusky, Arabic looks. 

He was of Algerian decent and I put him at late 30’s. I in turn had sent him more pictures of Sandra. It turned me on. Somehow I was sharing my family with a stranger and it made me excited. Hasim added that he had printed out the bikini picture I had sent and had it stood next to his computer. His comments always drove me on. That he’d had sex with over 10 white women, many married and could satisfy Sandra in ways I never could. On another he said how lucky and undeserving I was to have such a great wife and mother and how much he would enjoy fucking her in front of me. It seemed he understood everything.

To be honest I wondered what she would have thought of much of it and to make it easier I took her out for dinner. The idea I would see her with another man for the first time becoming a true reality for now I truly did want it to come about. Still, she seemed unsure as I told her how this black stud saw several other couples in the UK. She looked as if she hadn’t expected me to find her a black man. A ‘Bull’ and when I said the term out loud I saw concern all over her face. Just what was I getting us into. 

Sandra looked stunning that night. Looking back I expect she dressed that way to please me. Though in the future I was confident she would dress only to impress Hasim. I remember it well as we held hands across the table. By the end of the evening she had agreed to try it. I called our new bull that very night and offered him the chance to bed Sandra that weekend. 

Giving him the good news in the kitchen as my wife changed upstairs. His voice was full on the phone and accented. Hearing him excited me and almost speechless I asked if he could take her out on a date beforehand. He agreed, promising to have her back early and we arranged a time when he could pick her up. 

Saturday evening I brought home a thin, hugging gold cocktail dress and some clear high heels. I knew full well the risk I was taking. Not only sending my wife out with a stranger but heightening the chances that someone might see them. Someone we knew. A friend or family member. The outfit had caught my eye. Expensive and classy yet revealing as well. After unpacking the box Sandra held the silky dress against herself in the bedroom mirror. I could see her having second thoughts. They had lasted all week. She didn’t want another man. Was worried for our family and our relationship. 

‘Adam?’ she said ‘do you really want me to do this?’ I couldn’t answer and to her credit Sandra already knew. She turned back to the mirror, took the outfit and began to change. 

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