All eyes are on him the instant he struts into the bar section of the
restaurant. Tall, distinguished looking, and with an impressive build that bespoke confidence.
There is something profound about him that commands presence. Even your wife can't
help but glance in his direction. You follow suit, too, admiring the
man's athletic figure. You can feel his dominant aura projecting from his outfit.
He reminds you of everything you have always wanted to be as a man.
There is an animalistic magnetism about him that is eerie and arousing. The way
he walks, even the rise smile highlighting his face as he blends across the
room, he belies the attractive quality of an adonis. You have no idea
who he is, but he's aware of the blatant stares in his direction,
including yours. You assume he's the sort of man who could commandeer any woman
in this room. He could approach your table and demand your wife's time,
and you won't offer any form of protest if that happens. You would eagerly
anticipate that happening right now. This isn't a careless wish you would grant to
any man you would rather fight to the death to uphold your wife's honor,
including yours, in the face of this crowded room. But that won't bode
for this handsome gentleman. For him, you would do whatever is necessary to
fulfill his wish. Most other husbands in the room, too, would offer
similar treats. Neither their wives would dare decline to go over and share a
table with the distinguishing looking black gentlemen. For a majority of husbands, their
ideal seduction permeating in their minds involves envisioning their wives being courted and seduced by
a black gentleman at a bar or maybe even a restaurant she frequents. They
envision their wives sitting alone, perhaps waiting for a companion to arrive, when
suddenly the unknown black man appears and starts conversing with her. The wife would
appear aloof initially, but that feeling only lasts as short while after the black
man introduces himself and is polite enough to keep her company until her eminent date
slash husband, or the wife's aloofus automatically disappears. Realizing the night is about
to take on a new meaning, she is willing to see how things play
out. Your wife is alone with herself at the bar. The black man
orders drinks and then subtly converses with your wife while you lurk in the background
watching. You are so ecstatic, yet composed so as not to lose your
cool. Never would you have imagined such unexpected opportunity to happen before your eyes.
Your wife, who you naturally assumed would be most disrespectful to being approached
by another man, is seemingly chatting with a black stranger. Doesn't look upset
by his approach. You can't help recalling the multiple times you expressed your desire
about going out on her own to make new friends. You often told her
not to worry about looking after the kids, since you can handle that while
she's away. How often did she shoot down such requests, claiming she was
least interested in meeting new people. You still remember her admon you against raising
the subject again, as you even declared there was no chance of ever convincing
her to see things your way. Yet here she is laughing and acting casual
with a stranger. You want to believe this is nothing but a dream.
You even pinch yourself, hoping that would compel you to awaken, but not
a chance. Your wife is connecting with a black stranger in more ways than
you could imagine. You do your best not to get overly excited. Won't
want to go over and spoil things now? Would we best to see how
things are going, and hopefully things will progress positively from here. You are
clueless about who the black man is, and you cannot help speculating whatever could
have drawn him towards your wife. You scan the room and observe a peculiar
displeasure in several of the women who cannot help turning their attention towards the black
man. But you cannot help the feeling of high esteem bubbling in your head.
Knowing that someone worthy finds your wife attractive enough to approach her, Perhaps
you won't mind doing more than merely chatting her up. He could ask if
she has anything to do and talk her into leaving the bar. Possibly he
has a slick car parked outside. Your wife won't mind climbing inside while he
guns the car and screeches off into the night wherever he's bound to take her,
probably to a hotel somewhere where a high class apartment of his. What
would happen. When they arrive at their destination, your mind drums up arousing
scenarios. You can see them hurrying to get out of their clothes, clawing
and kissing. As the man takes charge. He pulls your wife into his
firm grip, starts sucking each pair of her breasts, and then kisses her
neckline as she inconsolably melts in his arms. They barely make it to the
bedroom, where he then gets busy fucking the shit out of her. He
fucks her in ways you can only imagine. He fucks her like he doesn't
know her and doesn't care whether she is married. All he is after is
his pleasure and the need to inject his dominance into her. Even now,
you can picture the rampant cries coming from your wife as she succumbs to the
black man's last You picture her lying on the bed, holding her legs apart
while the man grunts with each momentous thrust of his cock. His body is
like a hot rod engine. The way he slides inside your wife, the
way he holds her down from wanting to escape his sexual punishment. You picture
yourself standing beside the bed, watching, observing their feral bonding, jerking your
cock to the rhythm of their sexual encounter. You suddenly pull out of your
trance as the black man passes something to your wife. It looks like a
business card, at least you hope that's what it is, which your wife
covers in her palm. She finishes her drink, shakes hands with the black
man, and waves goodbye to him as she leaves the bar. Your wife
retains her smile as she approaches your table. You cannot help but smile back.
You both decide to take your leave, but you quickly notice her slip
the man's business card into her purse. Driving home, you inquire about the
black stranger she had been jesting with at the bar. She mentions how he
had approached her and remarked about her dress and how it looked good on her,
before introducing himself as an out of towner who had arrived in the city
on business. Really, what sort of business did he say he was into?
You ask shipping, honey, Okay, did he say anything about how
long he's going to be around? I don't know, darling, I didn't
ask him. There is a slight hesitation in her voice, and she doesn't
make eye contact with you. When she says that this can only mean one
thing. Your wife knows more than what she's saying. This makes it certain
she had accepted a business card from the man. You could decide to press
her about the subject, but you decide on a different tactic instead. He
looked like a handsome bloke. You remark, what do you think, honey,
didn't he look cute to you? He looked like a handsome bloke.
Your wife laughs, and make note of the rosy color that suddenly highlights her
cheeks. I wouldn't know, darling, I swear I wasn't noticing. Oh
stop playing, honey. You were talking with him for a long while.
I even forgot why you went to the bar in the first place. You
wanted to smoke a cigarette, darling, She retorts, you know, I
cannot stand the smell coming from you when you do. Anyway, let's head
home and maybe I'll make it up to you tonight. I like the sound
of that, you smile, as she then caresses your crotch, letting you
know what she intends on doing. Once you get home. You cannot shake
off the thought of the black man being alone at that bar, and it
makes you wonder how relieved the other women must be since your wife left.
You. Imagine one of them coming to take your wife's place. The chances
are unlikely that he would quit that bar alone