My Black Dildo - A Hotwife’s Confession



Seven years ago to this very day was when I accepted my stance as a hotwife. How did it come about? It began when Darryl, my husband, bought me a 10-inch black dildo as a surprise birthday gift. I immediately fell in love with it and have not looked back since.


Over the years, I have accumulated other effective dildos and an array of sex toys as part of my kinky arsenal, but nothing gives me enormous orgasm than my black dildo. I take it with me almost everywhere: to my workplace, and sometimes when I go shopping. I’m such a super-horny bitch—a Queen of Spades whore, if you will—and when there aren’t any lurking black men around to comfort me with their dicks, my dildo is always ready to get me high. Sure, Darryl sometimes does his best with his tongue, but even he knows to utilise my dildo to make me climax the best way possible.


It was through my black dildo that Darryl was able to persuade me to start dating black men. I doubt he could have found any favourable means of driving the idea home to me.


Darryl has attempted for years to instigate me to cheat on him. Always I resisted the urge; I could never comprehend why on earth he would desire such. Also, it was against my Christian upbringing. I should tell you that we have a healthy marriage, and I’ve borne him three wonderful kids . . . but over the years, our sex life had grown wan. Sure, I have my needs, but for years I opted to keep quiet about it. I figured it wasn’t my place to make noise where none was required. Darryl, meanwhile, had been plotting for means of getting me to change my mind.



He got me to watch porn movies with him, which I had no problem with those. However, things changed when Darryl began insisting that we reenact some of our favourite sex scenes in bed. It often led to us having sex, but we seldom made it past first base before one of us muttered goodnight, and that would be it. Still, it was fun. I do recall those moments as what inevitably led to me becoming fascinated with interracial sex.


I do remember what triggered that idea in my head. It was a holiday weekend on a Saturday, and Darryl and I, including our kids, were at the beach having a great time building sandcastles near the water. I happened to see a young white woman in a gorgeous swimsuit strolling with a black man beside her. They appeared oblivious to the ogling eyes focused on them, one of whom happened to be me. Darryl also observed the couple. Most significantly, he noticed the change in my face as I went on admiring them until they went out of view.


“What were you thinking when you saw them?” He asked me later that night in bed.


“Who? What are you talking about?”


There was no denying who he meant, and he knew I was pretending.


“I’m talking about that interracial couple we saw at the beach today. Don’t deny you weren’t looking at them, because I saw you.”


I blushed. “All right, they looked kinda good together. I was thinking. . . ”


Something made me stop. Darryl sat up and prodded me to continue. He saw the flushed look on my face and knew I harboured dirty thoughts in my head.


“Come on, Joanna,” he said, “let’s hear it.”


“Fine. I was thinking about how good their sex life might be, seeing how they looked so great with each other.”


Darryl said nothing at first, and I feared I might have angered him with my revelation when he then said, “Would you love to find out, honey?”


I must have said something akin to yes; I don’t remember if I did, or maybe he read the look on my face and figured what I wanted to say but was too timid to admit.


“All right then,” he kissed me. “We’ll have to look into that. Goodnight, hon.”

I told him goodnight, and then we fell asleep.


Darryl didn’t raise the subject until two months later, when he presented me with the black dildo. That night, we waited till it was almost might before he got to try it out on me. We watched some porn movies. Darryl went online on his computer and found videos of white women playing with similar-looking dildo. They looked so sexy how they got to fucking their black dildo until signalling a black man over to come and take charge of them.



With the help of my dildo, I was able to break from my conservative Christian bounds of wanting to indulge in some adventurous type of sexual experience. It was then that I saw the need to become acquainted with and satisfy my sexual urges. Night after night, I would ram my dildo into my cunt and pretend that I was being fucked by an African king. I would roll my lips around my dildo and do my best to deep-throat it, the whole time imagining myself transform into a submissive whore to a Black god. I had never cum so hard as when I get to fucking my dildo. Sex with Darryl was now out of the question; he knew it was about time he found someone suitable enough to handle me in bed.


Two months later, Darryl made that dream a reality for me. He did it without telling me about it, nor did he give any hint until one Saturday afternoon when he told me to dress up to go out for dinner. He had already spoken to a neighbour’s daughter to come over and babysit our kids until we return.


We drove to the restaurant where Darryl had prearranged with my date, who was already there waiting. He was a handsome black man in his thirties; he looked like the fellow we had seen with the white woman at the beach. We shook hands, and while we ate dinner, Darryl confessed and told me what Michael was there for. To say I was shocked won’t be enough; I was speechless and lost for words. I was angry, however, that Darryl kept such a secret from me but decided to bottle my anger until the night was over.


We left the restaurant, then walked to a hotel half a block away, where Darryl had booked a room for the night—one final surprise to seal the deal, he told me. Michael locked arms with me and smiled like it was just us together and that Darryl wasn’t there. We made it to our room. I was nervous the whole time, thinking this was as unbelievable a dream that I was having. I didn’t want to believe any of it, up to when Darryl helped with freeing my bra and allowing my huge, saggy breasts tumble out for air.



Michael approached me naked; his cock stood at half-mast. He looked like a black Adonis, while I resembled a fat pig with wrinkles and stretch marks all over my flesh. Plus, I was unarguably a decade older than him. I felt ashamed standing there without any clothes; I felt helpless. I wanted to turn around and hide my shame, except Michael kissed me and led me to the bed. He made me feel special, so in love like I never had before.


Darryl sat by the table and watched. He barely made any noise the entire time that Michael and I made love.


Actually, that statement is incomplete. Michael didn’t merely make love to me—he pretty much fucked the shit out of me. He fucked me in ways that I haven’t ever been fucked in my life. His cock was as black as my dildo, and just as formidable, too. For a moment, while stroking his cock, I even pretended it really was my dildo.



He ate my pussy.


He vigorously fisted my pussy until I squirted buckets upon the sheets.


He as well fucked me, then jetted semen upon my large sac of breasts.


We were there for two hours; it felt like the entire night. I almost didn’t want it to end. I would have loved for Darryl to return home to the kids and leave me there with Michael. As it turns out, Darryl had booked the room in Michael’s name for two nights. Michael said he would be there until Monday; I promised to return the next day. I gave him one long kiss before saying goodbye to him. That night, I couldn’t stop gushing at Darryl, thanking him for a most unexpected yet fulfilling night.


Regards,

Angie Ayler

Las Vegas.





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