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Wife’s First Time with a BBC, by Jezebel Rose

 

It had been at least ten years since I last shared a long-hidden, burning fantasy of mine with my wife, Jacky. My dream of seeing her on another man’s big cock, stretching her to the limit, obsessed me; but the idea repulsed and offended her. “Why would you want me to do that? That is just sick! I do not want anyone except you, Harry. That is just a way for you to be free to fuck other women; isn’t it! I would never do that!”

“No, I don’t want any other woman,” I protested in all sincerity. Did she think I wanted to leave her and our three preteens? “I just thought it unfair that you never experienced sex with anyone but me. Moreover, while I cannot explain why, the thought of you spreading your legs to fuck another man turns me on. I’m sorry.”

I thought I had primed her for the request, routinely fucking her with a big black dildo and even managing to double penetrate her pussy with it. She amazed me by taking its nearly two-inch girth along with my cock. She went wild the first time I managed to squeeze my dick in next to it. Hottest fucks of all time. I now wondered why we got away from that routine. The tight stretch always thrilled her and the feel of a cock sliding against mine inside her pussy, even if it was just plastic, pushed me over the edge in a matter of seconds every time. The prospect of repeating it with the ultimate sex toy was most definitely not an option. Her swift rebuke convinced me; I would never touch on that kink again; ever!

Then, just recently, she came home from a shopping spree wearing a silver anklet. I told her I loved it, wondering if she had the slightest clue what it meant. She wore it constantly. “It’s so feminine,” she told me, “I feel sexy wearing it.” Soon after, I recognized new confidence within her and asked what brought that on. She explained that so many strangers, people, seemed to be striking up conversations over nothing to talk with her. I smiled, and I asked if any of them complimented her anklet. “How did you know that?” she asked in amazement.

 

“You have no idea; do you?” I replied with a smile. “It means, I’m married but free to fuck anyone I want, and if worn on the right ankle (as she always wore hers), it means I’m looking to get fucked right now.”

She looked at me incredulously. “You’re making that up.”

I just chuckled and told her, “Keep wearing it. Its harmless fun and you will see I am telling you the truth. Google it.” She did keep wearing it, and she loved the attention it brought her. It just made her feel good to know that at age 39, people still found her appealing.

In the midst of all this, we booked a romantic, 7-day cruise for our 20th anniversary, our first ever get-away without kids. As we packed, I asked if she was wearing her anklet on the trip, adding that cruises are a place to, “let your hair down, just like in Vegas. What happens on the cruise ship stays on the cruise ship.”

“Do you want me to wear it?” she asked.

 

I took the plunge, inferring my old fantasy was still burning inside me and hoping she would not ‘go off on me.’ “Yes, of course, I do. And I would love it if you chose some of your skimpy outfits to wear with it; and if you forget your panties and bra, that would be fine too.”

She did not answer, but what went into the suitcase told a story. She packed what looked like a conservative, white, one-piece swimsuit that we both knew became almost transparent when wet, a couple of little sundresses that she had never worn because they were way short, some tube tops that I hadn’t seen her wear in years. I also tucked in a pair of skimpy shorts that let the cheeks of her ass peeking out like two little smiley faces, and a couple of very short skirts and low-cut blouses to show off her ample cleavage. Was she going to let go and do it; I wondered, or would she tease me by teasing other men?

She dressed the part on the day of our cruise check-in by wearing one of the little sundresses that just covered her bare ass when she stood up straight. A slight breeze, quick twirl or any bend from the hip revealed a pantiles bottom. The little cotton dress, her strapped sandals, and jewelry, including the anklet, comprised her entire ensemble. We rode in the back seat as our two girls drove us to the port. The younger, a 17-year-old, commented, “Mom, you’d never let me go out looking like that!”

“That’s a fact,” my demure wife responded, “but when you’re my age, you can dress any way you want, and I promise not to criticize.”

I was boned up for the next few hours as I watched her flaunt herself and flirt with other men. When we reached our suite, we fucked like animals, both of us turned on by her bold, uncharacteristic, provocative public behavior. After we caught our breath, I told her that if she wanted to fuck someone else, it would be all right with me. Duh, as if she was not conscious enough to know that. In addition, since she was on the pill, I suggested she could even do it bareback. “You know how I love eating your cream pie pussy,” I told her, watching to see how she reacted to the idea of me eating another man is cum from her freshly fucked pussy.

 

If anything, I think she liked the idea. When she admitted she might give herself to another man, we began scheming about how to pick someone and get him back to the room with us. I suggested she bump into someone she wanted to fuck, as if she didn’t see where she was going, then apologize, saying something like, “My feet have a mind of their own, to direct his attention to your feet. I’ll be very meek and just tag along, looking at the floor”, I told her, “If he’s game, he’ll take it from there.”

It only took seconds for her to dress for dinner. She merely pulled the little sundress over her head and said, “Let’s go.” I was shocked just moments later when she intentionally walked right into a huge black man standing with his back toward the elevator as we exited. He was probably in his mid-30, well dressed in garb matching that of the three men he was chatting with. The well-proportioned man towered over my six-foot stature; almost compelling me to cower in the background as my wife said, “I’m so sorry, Sir, but my feet just seem to have a mind of their own,” motioning toward her anklet as she spoke.

“That’s quite all right, little lady. No problem,” he responded as he turned back to continue his conversation.

We walked away with my heart pounding and my ‘jack-in-the-box’ cock springing to full-on boner again. “Oh fuck, honey, you are one hot little bitch. What a slut you are!” I complimented her, “I had no idea you wanted that. It just has to happen now! You have me so fuckin excited. Want to skip dinner and go to the piano bar to see who’s there?”

 

She declined, saying we were going to need some nourishment for what she had in mind. We gobbled down our food and went back to the room for a quick, urgent fuck. We did not even undress. I pulled the couch away from the wall, bent her over the back with her head down and feet just off the floor. I flipped up her little dress revealing a juicy, freshly fucked cunt. I lowered my pants and slammed it in balls deep with one thrust. Thirty seconds later, I was pumping in yet another load. I pulled out and dropped to my knees, licking my cum from her while envisioning it being another man’s. When she was clean enough to walk without dripping, I stood and pulled up my pants, tucking in what was becoming a perpetual hard-on. “It’s time for the piano bar my little slut,” I told her as I helped her to her feet.

Of all people, the big black man she bumped into earlier was alone, sitting at the bar. “There’s the guy you were interested in sweetheart. Go sit next to him if you want,” I encouraged.

“No, I can’t do that. I already made a fool of myself in front of him, and I cannot do that. He will think I am stalking him. Besides, he’s not interested, or he would have talked to me earlier,” she argued.

I gave her little choice. I grabbed her by the waist and walked her up to the bar, ushering her right onto the stool next to the big black man. She took the seat, telling me thanks, and then said, “Oh look, honey, it’s the guy I bumped into earlier. Be a sweetheart and buy him a drink.”

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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