Just Ask My Husband

make the time for us to get down. And if you fuck me good the first time, then I'm yours for the taking. But that's for later. Right now, I want you to sit down and listen to my confession. Allow me to begin with my husband Andy. Andy was dismayed the first time we had sex, and he realized he could barely keep up with me. This was back when we'd started dating. After two rounds of good fucking, he tapped out admitted that I might give him a heart attack if we continued the way we were going.

He was stunned when I told him I was just getting started. He reluctantly returned to bed, but he was all spent. I gave him credit for going the distance as my previous lovers never lasted past one round. I was a college sophomore at the time and yet to discover the height and joy that came with fucking black men. Years went by, and all through those years, Andy and I seemed to avoid getting to the nitty gritty of the most important conversation concerning both of us with regards

to sex. I never hid my desires from Andy, not once. I made it known to him that I demanded and craved sex like a child desires sugar. I cannot explain it. My libido has always been on high. If I'm not steadily thinking of sex, then something was wrong. Since Andy wasn't capable of giving it to me the way I wanted, then it was only fair that I find someone who

would Fucking my dildo wasn't enough. Andy nixed the idea, declaring how wrong that was and that the last thing he wanted was to see me screwing some louse in our bed. Would it make you feel better if I decided to do it in a hotel room, I asked, how the fuck? No, he declared, and I don't want to hear about this silly shit anymore. I often told him he was being inconsiderate, but later fell silent about

the matter. He knew he had hurt my feelings, and he did try to make it up to me by making time from his busy work schedule to have play time with me in bed. But as expected, not once did our so called playtime lead to anything good. As it turned out, I knew why Andy was nervous about seeing me in bed with another man. It took me a while to understand his inner grievance, but I eventually did.

It wasn't about him seeing me getting fucked by another man, but the fear that some other men would succeed in snatching me away from him. He was afraid of whatever repercussions might affect our marriage if ever I attempted this activity. Months went by, and I was then able to suggest to him that one best way to safeguard that issue from rearing its head was if I opted instead to find myself a black lover as opposed to a white one.

No black man would want to take me from you, I said convincingly one night, while we sat up in bed contemplating things. Black men would rather want a young white girl, not a middle aged milf like me. Milf. What's a milf? What sort of acronym is that? Mothers? I'd love to fuck as in milf? Do you get it now? I guess? He looked at me oddly wearing God's name? Do you find such weird things? Anyway? It's all over the internet, honey. Even kids these days know

what it means. But let's not get sidetracked here. He reluctantly agreed that I should find someone who would give me what I wanted, but that I should ensure he was clean of any STDs, is single, and wouldn't pose no threat to us. One final thing is that whoever he was, he should best wear a condom. I agreed to his terms and then set about finding the right man for the job. You would think that finding the right man for the job is easy, but I'm here

to tell you such isn't the case. The Internet is vast, and one can get lost in the ether if you're not so careful. I comb through various social media sites. I put up photos of my figure in different forms, all to entice the sort of man I wanted. Many responded, but the majority of them didn't fit the bill. Some were white men pretending to be Black. A majority of black men that responded were married, too old, and or

resided in places far from my location. I needed someone who wouldn't take long coming to me or vice versa. Three weeks went by before I found my man, or rather he found me. His name is Idris, and he's originally from the Caribbean but was studying for his masters, and he happened to reside in a city closer to where I lived. Sorry, I don't want to tell you anymore because I wouldn't want any of you bitches to go around looking for him. You'll have to trust me

on things. Idris contacted me through my Instagram page and that was how we got to talking. We exchanged contact information, but not before he'd showed me what he was working with. His equipment was quite impressive, and when I showed it to Andy even he couldn't help but blush before admitting that his tool was way bigger than his. Idris and I talked to each other via phone, and I even allowed him to chat with Andy so he wouldn't feel

left out. Andy gave me the go ahead to initiate a meeting, and Idris and I talked about where would be most appropriate for a hookup. We decided on a town line and that wasn't far from where I lived. The day was a Saturday, and Andy drove me there. Idris had already reserved a room at the inn. We found him in the lobby and went to sit in the bar to chap for our bit. He wasn't in any hurry, and neither were we. Idris didn't mind talking

about himself. I found his Caribbean accent quite amusing. I could also tell that Andy was starting to like him. Done with our drinks, we decided to stroll to where his room was at. Andy went and found a perfect spot to park his car while Idris led me inside. Andy joined us in no time. By them, we had already begun to kiss and fondle each other. Andy planted himself in a chair while Idris lifted me off my

feet and carried me to the bed. He was quite a gentleman, but within minutes of us enjoying our foreplay, I came to realize that underneath his gentility was the sort of man I've always yearned for. In bed, his cock stood ramrod, straight and majestic. When I unveiled it out of his jeans. It was half the length of my arm, and when I glanced towards Andy even he was awed by the size of his shaft. I cannot describe to you the immense pleasure I had when I

got to suck his cock. I could have stayed there and worshiped his cock all day, except the sight of it had ignited my horniness and raised it to the highest level. I definitely needed to fuck something or I was likely to burst. Idris had me on my arms and knees, with my but aimed upwards. When he then positioned himself behind me, he took a moment to rummage his finger inside my caunt, getting me riled up and squirting with ecstasy, before then then inserted his prick inside me.

I grabbed and pulled the sheets and felt a thunderous roar escape my mouth as he drove deeper and deeper into my pussy. I felt my pussy being stretched ways stretched than ever before, and I got to stomping my leg on the bed like I was suffering something akin to a volcanic eruption. Andy would have backed off if it was him fucking me. That would have been the best thing to do, knowing I was hurting somewhat from being penetrated so abruptly, but Idris wasn't my husband, and

I'm glad he never let up from his action. He doubled down instead and kept drilling his cock inside me. I could almost feel his cock hitting my cervix, and still I wanted it. Still, I demanded that he kept fucking me harder. Our sex was the hardest sex I had enjoyed in years. Idris soaked up my haughty cries and continued to plug my pussy like no man ever

had before. My sweat spread like a river on the sheets, and by the time he turned me over onto my back, I felt like I'd shed more sweat than I went at a spa. I held my legs apart, and Idris knelt before me me grabbed his tool with his hand, and then rammed my pussy again. I leaned on his arms like he was attempting push ups, except it was his hips and thighs that rose and fell on my thighs while he sank his cock into my vagina. I orgasmed,

not once, but multiple times, and it felt incredible. I had finally rediscovered that which I had always wanted The most our sex seemed to carry on for a long time until Idris pulled out and ejaculated his seat all over my tits and abdomen. I lay there, breathing heavily. My posse felt hot, like someone had stuck a hot poker inside my vagina. Yet I felt grateful for the experience. Even Andy was mesmerized by what he had watched. I couldn't help but laugh at him, and he responded by

giving me a thumbs up. I rested for a bit later, after my temperature had lowered, went into the bathroom and cleaned myself up. I dried myself up, and Andy helped me back into my clothes, and then we said goodbye to Idris and left. It wasn't until we were half way home that Andy made one important observation that I had neglected. He reminded me that Idris hadn't worn a condom.

He didn't complain, though, and he did allow me to make Idris become my study lover up until a year later when he concluded his master program and returned home. The good thing was that Andy was happy for me, and my relationship with Idris never harmed our marriage, not once