EXTRACT FOR
The Cuckold Collection - Volume One
(Kelly Addams)

"I think you should slow down, just a little."

I tried not to annoy her too badly, that's why I added the just a little, an effort toward diplomacy. In return Penny gave me the little smile that I knew so well, the one that an outsider would take as acceptance, but the one that I knew meant back off and leave me alone.

We actually had a great relationship, most of the time, but if my wife of ten years had any flaw it was deepened by alcohol, and as she chatted with her colleagues from work alcohol was taking her by the hand and bringing out the demon that she denied existed inside her.

But before I tell you about that demon I guess I should introduce myself, my name is Alan, forty two years of age, a reasonably successful real estate agent, unremarkable in many ways except I generally become the subject of intense envy, especially when I attend parties with my wife.

My wife! Twelve years younger than myself, quite an age gap some might say, Penny would disagree, in her culture it is almost a pre-requisite for a husband to be older. 

Generally, at most parties and gatherings she is the only black woman in the room and soon becomes the centre of attention, because she is beautiful, bubbly, sexy, fascinating... and when she gets tipsy she gives off an aura of availability. 

She defends herself by maintaining that she's just a friendly person, but I see more in her attitude, she flirts when she's had a drink, and usually I position myself to ward off the more concerted advances from those guys who have also had just enough to get frisky, but as this evening develops I feel that she is warning me not to interfere, or as she usually puts it, warning me not to kill the mood.

So let me describe her to you, and I'll try to put myself in the position of a stranger looking at her for the first time. 

Clearly she is of pure African heritage, her skin is dark, a deep and lustrous ebony unlike many of the black women born in the US or Europe, they tend to err toward milk chocolate, whereas Penny looks like the pure cacao, dark and rich. Her hair is brushed back hard and gathered into a short bristly pony tail, and that hair is always a talking point, so many want to touch because African hair is stiffer than Caucasian women's. I remember hearing her giggling at a previous party when one of her admirers rubbed a lock of her hair between his fingers then whispered into her ear. Later when I questioned her she grinned, winked, then admitted that he'd asked her if the hair on her pussy was just as thick. 

"I'm shaved smooth," she had responded, "So you'll never know."

Often I thought about that response, I mean, how many wives discuss their pubic grooming with strangers? But the question that has always niggled at the back of my mind is, would she have let him feel if she hadn't been shaved? Often I picture his hand slipping down the front of her jeans, inside her panties before a finger probed between her puffy lips. I always shiver to picture that, and feel a stirring down in my pants, a stirring that a husband perhaps should never feel. But it is there, and I can't deny that as I close my eyes and imagine that finger slipping inside her I almost wish it had happened that evening... but I digress, so I shall return to my strangers view description of her.

She is pretty, beautiful I've heard whispered, deep brown eyes, almost as dark as her skin, and full African lips, the kind that many men dream of seeing wrapped around their cocks. 

As I see her now, she leaves little to the imagination, her dress is thin and very tight, tight enough to show a hint of individual ribs. But no-one is looking at her ribs, their focus is either on her round, firm and prominent ass, or more usually on her braless breasts. It is something that has always turned me on about her, the fact that she so rarely wears a bra, and tonight the dress is really emphasising the shape of her pert boobs and the fact that her large nipples are standing to attention for all to admire.

I don't need to picture her naked to describe those nipples, it is almost as though she's topless as I study her, I even detect the shadow of her areola, or is that just my imagination? Who knows?

One of her entourage appears at her elbow with a fresh drink, she smiles and takes it with a little nod, no word of thanks, almost as though it were a common occurrence, like when we are at home, we don't thank each other for every single act. She knows the guy well, that is very clear to me as I shuffle off to the bar and settle myself onto a high stool.

The people around me are total strangers, you see I've always been working away when her office parties are arranged, so I've never met her workmates, but that is working in my favour because for the first time I can study interactions without the usual nudges, and those silent warnings that the husband is around... so best behave.