I looked across the shipboard disco at my husband, just entering the room, looking for me. He saw me across the room, our eyes meeting just for an instant as the elevator door closed. I was inside the descending elevator, alone with a large black man whose thick arm was holding me around my waist, half supporting me from the effects of my three courage-building double martinis.

My soon-to-be black lover, this athletic man who would be lying between my open legs in moments, pulled me into his arms for another kiss, his hands inside my top, the first time my breasts had ever been touched by a black man, his fingers twisting my nipples into hard buds.

I let myself mold into his arms. I was his.

I didn't think of my husband again for at least three hours. This dark black man was taking me to his cabin for what I would soon discover to be the wildest most exotic fuck of my entire life.

 

***

 

I had always recognized my fascination with black men, but had always managed to suppress it. I thought no one could tell.

I underestimated how attuned my husband was to me after 12 years of marriage, and unbeknown to me he was aware of my staring just a bit too long when a well-built black athlete appeared on the television, my eagerness to see a Denzel Washington movie, or that extra bit of excitement I exhibited when reading an erotic letter from a magazine or online story site if a black man was involved.

Phillip would sometimes download an erotic story, print it out, and have me read it aloud as we drove to a weekend getaway in the mountains. Phillip would try to judge my reaction and tailor future stories. Our library of print outs soon contained stories of swinging, exhibitionism, wife-sharing, gang bangs, and even housewife hookers. All were a turn on in one way or the other, with our favorites turning into re-reads and role playing in our sexual adventures.

A turning point came when Phillip downloaded an interracial video. We had watched porn from time to time but not as a regular part of our foreplay. We reserved porn for special occasions, like a long weekend at a resort.

A few pornos we watched had a black man in them, but usually he was one of a group of several men in a gang bang.

And it was one of those resort trips that Phillip clicked on a recent download expecting a swinging video, but it wasn't what he expected.

We were nearing the bottom of a bottle of wine, getting cozy on the couch. My green satin chemise had been pushed off my shoulders and up above my hips and was bunched at my waist. Phillip's arm was around me cupping my left breast as Phillip clicked on the downloaded video from the flash drive in the DVR.

Appearing on the big screen TV was an erotic image of a large black man giving an exquisite fucking to a pale white woman, who was bellowing and begging her black lover, "Fuck me hard with that big black dick."

"That's not the one I downloaded," Phillip said.

"It's fine. Leave it!" I said with a bit of urgency in my voice. Phillip touched my pussy.

"Damn, Deanna, I've never felt your pussy this wet."

It was the hottest thing I had ever seen. I don't know if it was the large screen on the big TV making that black cock larger than life, but I was panting as I watched that white woman get fucked. I wanted to be her.

The image on the screen backed away from the close-up to show the muscular black man's cock pounding in and out of the big breasted blond. Her breasts were almost hitting her in the face with each hard thrust of that black cock-and the black flesh against white was so stark and vivid that I let go.

"Ohhh my God," I moaned aloud. I slid my hand down my belly and started rubbing my clit, sliding two fingers inside me.

Phillip was stunned but he recovered quickly.

It was impossible to conceal my arousal. All my secret fantasies were coming to life right there on the screen, a willing white woman opening herself for a big black man and his black cock disappearing into her. I started cumming quickly, but never took my eyes from the screen, or stopped rubbing my clit and fingering myself.

Phillip moved my hand out of the way.

"Let me," he said, and I did. "Damn Deanna, you are dripping," he said as his fingers entered me faster and faster, adding a third finger to the two he was already using on my pussy. It felt even better as the third finger stretched me.

I started coming again at his touch, and as we rushed through what had been a slow routine of foreplay building up to our fucking. I touched his hard cock, smearing the clear pre-come over his silky cockhead. He was rubbing my juices over my clit, kissing my breasts as I stared entranced at the screen.

His cock was rock hard. "Let's go upstairs," he said.

"No, let's stay here, I want to watch this."

I was detached from what was happening in reality on the couch with my husband. I was somewhere else, lost in the video. In my mind at that moment I was that woman on the screen. At least I knew I wanted to be her.

Phillip was too far gone to argue; turned on by my arousal and that in turn fueling his own. His cock was like a rock in my hand.

Phillip scooted my ass down on the couch, I opened my legs and he moved between them on his knees and rubbed his cock over my soaked pussy and then my pubis.

I didn't turn my eyes from the tv screen. I couldn't avert my eyes. I was rubbing my clit as he fucked me. It was too much for Phillip. He came too quickly and feeling his pace increasing I rubbed harder and came at about the same time.

My body was limp from the orgasms. Phillip was still inside me, still hard. He took his hand and turned my face to him. As he looked me in the eyes he asked, "Does that turn you on?"

"More than you could ever know," I answered back truthfully.

"I love you this turned on, I've never seen you this hot," he said.

Maybe it was the drinks, or the moment, or my excitement, but I blurted out, "Could I do it sometime, just to see what it would be like?"

"What?" he asked, "fuck a black guy?" I nodded.

"You are asking me for permission to fuck someone else, to fuck a black guy."

I knew my face was showing pleading, desire, and hopefully sincerity. "Yes. I am. But just to see what it would be like, but I wouldn't want it to interfere with our marriage. If you are dead set against it, forget I said anything."

Phillip had always pushed me to be more open, and I knew what I had just said was setting him back on his heels. He saw my request as a challenge, I could tell by the look on his face. He wanted to protest, but the other side of him wanted me sluttier. "Maybe if the right opportunity should arise," was his reply, smiling at the pun.

It wasn't a "No." It was a week before our cruise.