A Picture in Black and White

But I held back. Somehow, I felt that doing so would mean, once again, relinquishing control. It would be like asking Brigitte and Charles to stop what they were doing, because I wasn't either self-confident, or mature, enough to handle the sexual and emotional dynamics of it. By contrast, to sit and watch with reserve was, in some strange way, to retain a certain degree of rule. At least, this is what I told myself.

After all, while I wasn't sure I could be accused of exactly starting the drama now unfolding in front of me, neither had I taken any opportunity to halt it. My curiosity continued to get the best of me. Charles knew it. Brigitte knew it. And somehow, to call it off now would also, in fact, somehow be unsporting, or ungentlemanly. Or both. In some odd sense it was, after all, a game.

There was something else at play here, as well, although I'm sure that more than a few husbands would be skeptical if they'd heard me trying to explain it. It was simply that Brigitte was enjoying it. Despite her occasional protests, her actions and her body -- her flushed skin, her taut nipples -- told another story. And it simply gave me great pleasure to see how much pleasure she was taking from it all. We are, in the end, supposed to be taking care of one another, however loosely that sometimes might be defined.

Chapter XV

My brief reverie ended as I turned my gaze again toward the lurid scene in front of me. Charles stood before my wife as she sat back on the glass table, legs spread, embarrassed, but nonetheless shamelessly displaying herself for him. He made her hold the pose for what seemed like hours, long legs widely apart, as he admired her naked form. As he did so, he slowly unknotted his tie and pulled it off. Then he unbuttoned his shirt, and slipped it off. I was impressed as he did so -- while slender, he nonetheless had the broad, defined shoulders and articulated pecs and triceps of a swimmer. His stomach was flat and firm -- which only served to accent his long, thick cock, making it appear to stretch out even further in front of him.

I also admired his fortitude and self-control. Not once since he had withdrawn his cockhead from Brigitte's pouting lips had he touched his penis. Yet still it remained rock-hard and erect, bobbing and jerking slightly, his heavy black balls tight in their sac beneath. In fact, his cock looked harder and longer and thicker than ever, no doubt a direct result of the lewd display my wife was putting on for him. It stood out straight and proud, the color of dark chocolate -- and only a foot or two from my reclining wife. She stared at it openly. I myself studied it in admiration, and wondered briefly, guiltily, what it would feel like to touch it.

Charles finished kicking his shoes off, then removed his socks. His white bikini briefs already lay on the floor, where Brigitte had tossed them after pulling them down Charles' long, lean legs. He stood upright again, stark naked, and moved slightly closer to Brigitte as she lay back on the coffee table, open and waiting. I sucked in my breath.

"Brigitte, I want you to lie on the bed."

She leaned forward, taking the weight off her arms, and closed her legs. Shakily, she stood, looking at him both nervously and wantonly, if that were indeed possible. She crossed the several feet to the foot of our king-sized bed, and stood there for a moment, looking down at it, then back up at him.

This is it, I thought, my chest pounding. I'm going to see my wife fucked by another man -- a black man. My head spun with the implications.

Once again, however, Charles proved to be a master of both timing and erotic suspense.

"Lie down on your back," he ordered. "With your feet toward the head of the bed, and your head down here." He pointed to the edge, at the foot of the bed.

Slowly and somewhat uncertainly, Brigitte complied, climbing onto the soft, plush mattress. She stretched out -- naked save for her black heels. She lay down gingerly, apparently hesitant at the degree of control she was relinquishing by doing so. Her dark hair fell softly over the edge. She tried to look up, and around, and back at Charles, her eyes darting nervously. But he stood directly behind her, and she could catch only a glimpse of him.

"Slide your head gently back over the edge of the bed," he continued softly. "Rest the back of your neck against the edge, and let your head just fall softly back." Brigitte hesitated, no doubt reluctant to put herself in such a vulnerable position.

Seeing her delay, Charles continued, "You have nothing to worry about. I'm going to be extremely gentle, and I can assure you this will be nothing but pleasurable.

"For both of us," he added with a soft laugh.

Slowly, she did as he asked. She slid her head back until she could feel the soft edge of the mattress at the base of her neck. Then she relaxed, letting her head drop slowly back, further, and further. By doing so, she could now see both of us, albeit upside-down -- me in the large chair halfway across the room, watching and waiting fascinated, and Charles, tall and black and naked and erect, a mere foot or so behind her.

"There is, of course, a reason I'm doing this," Charles began. And then he turned his head and looked directly at me as he continued his explanation. "Most women, as talented as they might be at oral sex, have a hard time taking an entire penis in their mouth. At least in a conventional position," he added with a chuckle.

I caught my breath, and could hear Brigitte catching hers, too. Charles continued.

"I'm not sure how long my cock is, but at least eight inches, I would guess."

I thought he was being modest.

"This is really the only good way of fitting the entire length of it," he continued, and my heart continued to pound furiously. "And I can assure you that I intend to fit all of it down Brigitte's throat," he said matter-of-factly, still looking directly at me.

I heard Brigitte whimper softly. "Noooo...", she said. I had to shift again in my chair to ease the escalating ache in my balls.

"Close your eyes, my sweet," Charles said, turning back to my naked, recumbent wife. She did as he asked, her long lashes flickering gently, and waited. Inadvertently or deliberately, her legs parted slowly. I could see her puffy, swollen labia even from where I sat.

Charles stepped behind her, and slowly reached down and caressed her face and neck with both hands. She started at first at his touch, but then quickly relaxed, turning her head gently left and right to feel his tender, brushing strokes. Her eyes remained closed. As he continued his soft caresses he moved closer to her, bringing his erect penis toward her mouth, closer and closer. I held my breath.

"Open your mouth, Brigitte," Charles ordered quietly, and without a second's hesitation, she did, as widely as possible. Charles gently slipped the head of his thick penis into my wife's mouth.

The smooth, slick cockhead disappeared between her lips, and he held still for a moment, not pushing any further. She moaned softly. Instead, he began instructing her as he teased her with a mere taste of his black cock.

"I've positioned you like this, Brigitte, because it's the only way you'll be able to take my entire shaft," he began explaining quietly. "Arching your head back this way opens your throat entirely -- and it means that the passage from your lips to your larynx is absolutely straight."

He's done this once or twice before, I thought wryly, my heart still pounding in my chest.

Brigitte moaned again. I could see her tongue flicking around the ridge of his swollen, purple cockhead.

"Are you ready?" he asked -- somewhat rhetorically, I thought, all things considered. "Breathe through your nose from here on," he instructed. "I'm not going to stop." Brigitte gulped, but nodded slightly, acknowledging his orders. And with that, Charles fed his long, black cock down my wife's throat.

Chapter XVI

He did not go slowly – and while gentle, he was nonetheless firm. There was an urgency about him now. He had abandoned the soft and tender and gentlemanly side that we had seen so far.

No longer. This was sex -- raw, passionate, pressing and selfish. Charles was going to fuck my wife's mouth. And, more importantly, my wife wanted him to do it.

Her legs were spread widely on the bed. She was cupping both breasts in her hands, pinching and squeezing and pulling her nipples. She arched her head back further, trying desperately to take his thick shaft as quickly as she could. And Charles did not delay her pleasure.

In one strong, steady movement, he pushed his long cock into Brigitte's open mouth. Two inches slid past her lips, then three... then four. Her soft, pink lips were stretched around his black shaft. She breathed harder, faster, through her nose, and opened her mouth so widely that her jaw must have ached.

Five inches of cock slid in, then six. Charles did not pause even for a second. He was going to feed the entire length of his thick penis down Brigitte's throat in one, steady movement. I was astonished at the outrageous display before me.

Another inch slid in, Brigitte breathing faster, and faster. Her hands moved away from her taut nipples and sought out Charles thighs. She slid her hands up between them, and through, reaching for his tight ass. Finding it, she cupped a cheek in each hand, and tried pulling him in closer, trying to force the thick dick down her throat even faster.

I practically came on the spot when I saw what she was trying to do.

Charles did not interrupt his firm, steady push. In one final, fluid movement aided by Brigitte's grasping, pulling hands, he slid the last inch of his penis into her mouth. His heavy, black balls came to rest nestled on the bridge of Brigitte's nose.

My beautiful wife had eight inches of black cock down her throat.

Charles held perfectly still, not moving, as Brigitte slowly acclimated herself to this monstrous intrusion. I could hear her quick, harsh breathing even from where I sat. Slowly, however, her breathing slowed. Her hands lost their quick urgency, and slowly began a gentler, more sensual caress of Charles' firm buttocks. The tension so obvious in her limbs just a moment ago began to dissipate, and she settled more deeply into the bed. My wife suddenly seemed to be able to take all of it in stride. Her eyes remained closed as she caressed her new black lover.

I, of course, was another matter. The picture before me was the most lewd, obscene, intimate and arousing spectacle I had ever seen, and I could barely think straight.

Even from where I sat, six or eight feet away, I could clearly see the thick outline of Charles' penis in Brigitte's throat. More outrageously, I could even discern the ridge of his thick cockhead, pressing out against the soft, thin tissue at the base of her exquisitely long neck.

I didn't know where to put myself, or what to do, or even what day it was.

As if reading my mind, Charles said softly, "Bruce, come over here."

Now what? I asked myself, thrilled, and nervous, and eager, and proud -- and curious almost to the breaking point. But I got slowly to my feet, the thick bulge in my trousers giving me away shamelessly. I walked slowly up to him and Brigitte, staring at the cock embedded in my wife, the startling, erotic contrast of black skin against white. I was riveted by the sight before me -- and embarrassed at the extent of my fascination. What, exactly, did this make me? I think I was even blushing.

"A little closer, can you? Charles' request interrupted my laser-like concentration. I edged closer, curious -- worried -- about what was coming. Brigitte took no notice of my presence. She never even opened her eyes. She simply held still, continuing to caress Charles' ass, breathing steadily through her nose, enveloping him in her warm, soft throat. She even reached around with both hands to rub and massage his balls, softly teasing them with her fingers.

"Put your hand on Brigitte's neck," Charles ordered. "Right here." He pointed to a spot just above her Adam's apple. "I want you to feel my cock in her throat."

My heart pounded furiously. This was unbelievable! Was I going to do this?

Sensing my hesitation, Charles cut to the heart of the challenge with one, brief question. "Do you want me to stop now, and leave quietly? I will if you're not sure about this."

He already knew how I felt.

What my answer would be.

What I would do.

I reached down and gently felt his thick shaft through the soft skin of Brigitte's neck. I traced my fingers along it, eliciting a soft moan from her. Unable to resist, I ran my thumb and forefinger lightly across the ridge of his cockhead, tracing it, admiring its width and heft. And then, almost subconsciously, I began to massage it with my fingers.

Brigitte moaned, more loudly this time. I cupped my hand and began sliding it gently up and down her long neck, feeling the thick girth of his cock and running my hand up and down, from the ridge of his cockhead all the way back to her lips, from which the thick base of his cock protruded.

I will not deny it. I wanted to massage his cock until he shot his sperm down my wife's throat. I wanted to rub it until he could not longer resist...until the pressure in his balls built to such an extent that he had no choice but to cum. Until I watched his sperm leak from my beautiful wife's lips. And so I, almost in a trance, I rubbed the long, thick cock in my wife's throat.

Suddenly I realized what was going on.

What the hell was I doing??!! I asked myself in a shocking moment of guilt and self-realization. I quickly pulled my hand away. I leaned back, caught my breath, and began suddenly to have some serious moments of self-doubt and examination.

But Brigitte was oblivious to, and obviously uncaring about, my concerns. She knew only, from my gentle stroking, what I was trying to do. She was focused entirely on the thick cock in her mouth, and about satisfying both it, and her. Even as I pulled my hand away, she was sliding her hands once again between Charles' thighs.

Fascinated, I stood back and watched as she worked her hands between his legs, his long, thick cock still planted firmly and deeply in her warm and welcoming throat. She slid her fingers between his cheeks, and firmly, steadily, parted them. I caught my breath, knowing exactly what was coming next.

Charles relaxed, also suddenly realizing what Brigitte was up to.

She wasted no time. Almost harshly, she pulled his cheeks apart, but then suddenly, once his cheeks were prised apart, began gently flicking her fingers across the soft flesh near his asshole. Slowly, she traced her fingers down between his tight buttocks until she could feel the object of her attention: his tight, puckered anus.

I understood what she was going to do, and yet I couldn't believe it.

She knew, from our love-making, how easy it was to get me to cum once she slipped her finger into my ass and began fucking me with it. She would do it when she was ready to have me ejaculate, and there was almost nothing I could do to resist once she started it.

I knew now, watching her probing Charles' ass, sinking her middle finger into his tight anus and stroking it in and out -- fucking him deeply and slowly -- that she was desperately trying to make him cum. To shoot his sperm down her throat.

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure they both could hear it.

Chapter XVII

Breathless, I watched and waited. Waited for Charles to give in to the deep, rhythmic penetration of his ass. Waited for him to close his eyes; for the quiet moans she was coaxing from him to grow to shouts. Waited to see his long, thick dick begin to throb.

But I waited in vain.

Charles was a master of self-control. True, he moaned, and closed his eyes. His knees bent, and I could see all his muscles tighten, his body winding up like a spring. He even reached down and gently cupped his balls for a moment. But then his fingers slid up and he grabbed the thick base of his cock, encircling it with a thumb and forefinger in an 'O'. He squeezed his fingers together tightly, literally choking off the impending flood of semen about to make its way out of his cock and down my wife's throat. At the same time he reached back and gently, but firmly, took Brigitte's hand and withdrew it from between his buttocks. I could hear Brigitte's soft groan of frustration even from where I sat.

Then Charles slowly and very gently withdrew his thick, erect penis from her mouth, careful not to hurt her. It seemed to slide out forever, a slow inch at a time, and I once again marveled at her ability and willingness to have taken it all.

Finally, Charles withdrew the last of it, the deep-purple cockhead, slick with Brigitte's saliva, slipping slowly, reluctantly, from her lips. I heard her moan once again, and could easily imagine the deep, tight tension that had enveloped her, and her search for some release.

As Charles withdrew his cock, he leaned down and gently began to caress and massage Brigitte's neck. Obviously, he knew what an intrusion putting his entire penis down her throat must have been. That her throat surely ached with the effort. He stroked her softly, sweetly... and then whispered to her, "I'm very proud of you, my love. You show great talent. Very few women can take a cock of this size on the first try.

"Even more than that," he continued after a brief pause, "you show enormous promise."

Brigitte blushed at his words, obviously pleased at his approval.

I, on the other hand, felt my heart skip another beat, especially when he mentioned 'enormous promise'. What was that supposed to mean? I asked myself quietly and furiously.

"You must be feeling especially in need of some release at this point, aren't you, my love?" Charles continued softly as he stood above and behind her, now softly caressing her face and brushing the dark hair back from her forehead. His impressive cock, still erect and still glistening from my wife's saliva, bobbed just inches from her face.

Brigitte, eyes still closed, nodded her head, slowly. Charles smiled.

"You need to be made love to, don't you Brigitte?" he asked her quietly.

Brigitte blushed again quickly, but nodded again, this time more vigorously.

Charles, still stroking her face, deliberately paused for a minute, drawing out the tension and anticipation of what came next. To say he had the full attention of not only Brigitte but also myself would have been an understatement. Then he spoke.

"Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that you need to be fucked," he said, more bluntly. "Wouldn't that be a better way to put it?"

Brigitte sighed softly, then nodded more rapidly.

I shifted again in my chair, trying to ease the increasing ache in my groin.

Charles continued. "Let me hear you say what you need." He waited patiently, assured of a response.

Brigitte moaned quietly. Her blush deepened once again, spreading from her cheeks down to her neck. Softly she shook her head. "I..." she began

"What, my pet?" Charles asked softly, pressing her for her reply.

"I...I..." she stammered.

I held my breath. I could never get my wife to say what Charles wanted to hear from her. Then she spoke.

"I need to be fucked," she finally blurted out -- then colored bright pink, once again, to the roots of her hair. But she did not stop there.

"I...," she went on, her voice growing louder, more assured. "I... Please fuck me," she asked finally. "Please fuck me with your cock."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This was my shy wife?

Chapter XVIII

"I'm not going to fuck you yet, my pet," Charles answered. "In fact," he added with a small grin, "I might not fuck you at all tonight."

Brigitte whimpered, then moaned "Noooo...", her voice trailing off softly. She shook her head slowly back and forth, no doubt beside herself from this teasing.