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Men's Room SlutWife
TJR
www.Midnightx.Com
It was almost four months ago when I found out my lovely young wife
was a black cock whore. When I remember when I found out it's
embarassing because I almost handled it so badly.
I was in a mens room in the same office building where we both
worked and I noticed some graffiti with her name on it. Sheila,
my wife, works as a receptionist for a publicity studio on the
first floor. I work as an accountant for a big firm on the 21'st
and that's how the unlikely event happened that we even met.
We used to break in the lobby coffee shop where after a year I finally
got up the nerve to chat her up. She was gorgeous then and more so
now. That was two years ago, and I can only guess when she began
seeing black guys behind my back, or maybe more likely she never
stopped.
Of course the pr firm she worked for handled lots of entertainers
and many were black artists. She was blonde eye candy at the front
desk and went out on lots of what she called 'client dates'.
Even while we went out she said she had to do this because it was
expected in her business. So, several times a week she went out
even after we were married, and sure, I know there were black guys
there and other white girls and her boss with contracts to get signed.
But somehow, I know it sounds stupid, she was so open about it
and nobody in her business batted an eye, I just never thought she
did anything besides a little flirting.
So I'm washing my hands and I see besides the paper towel dispenser on
the tile walls amidst the usual scrofulous written invitations, advice, and
suggestions, and among all the gay 'show hard' etc notes I see my wife's
name. It popped right out at me. And it wasn't a 'for a good time
call Sheila' or like that either. I saw the name and had to read it from
the beginning to believe it.
"All you black bruthas, blondie Sheila at Pinnacle luvs
Black Cock!"
Pinnacle is the name of her pr firm so there couldn't be a mistake
about it. Now if someone said 'Walter Sucks' on a mens room wall it was
an insult directed at me, but how would Sheila be insulted, I'm
thinking? Plus it had to be a guy, not a girl who put it there.
So I unsucessfully tried to erase it with a paper towel and spent
the afternoon thinking of it. The next day I went down and saw it
again, with additions.
Under the first message, someone had added in ball point with a
different writing style.
"This be truth, bruthas. SlutSheila does Everythin for Black cock!"
So now I have a second opinion on my wife being a slut. I was going
to erase them both but someone came in and I didn't want to be caught
and people wondering who this Sheila was, and conceivably they might
know who I am. Sitting at my desk I was dwelling on this all day,
and truth be told, I was surprised that it was striking some deep erotic
chord. The lobby mens room wasn't frequented too much, especially
during mid afternoon, so I found an observation position on an upper level
to look down on the entrance where I wouldn't be noticed, and took to
taking coffee breaks there. A week went by when I noticed what I thought
was my wife walking directly to the mens room door, and she was with
with a huge black young guy with dreadlocks, and he's got his huge hand
on her shapely bottom. I almost dropped my coffee as they stopped at
the door and looked around. Okay, I'm thinking, he's probably a client
and he has to take a piss, and I was relieved when he went inside while
she waited. But then after a short minute, the door opened and he grabbed
her wrist and she grinned as he pulled her in.
Now I'm thinking he went in first to check to see if it was occupied.
I wait several minutes, and couldn't stand it any longer, so I went down
and walked to the door, and opened it quietly, but I definitely heard
some black guy gasping and groaning from a stall. On rubber soled shoes
I tiptoed over to the line of stalls and looked underneath.
Bending way down I looked and four stalls away, I saw her nylon
covered legs, as she was kneeling in front of the stall, between
the black man's legs. And I can hear them pretty good too.
"Yeah, (gasp) yeah, honey. Darnell be right. You Black cocksuck
champion, bitch."
"(slurp) kiss, why thank you sir!" I heard my sweet wife say with a
giggle.
She went back to noisily suck him off. The acoustics in a tiled
bathroom were perfect and I heard everything. I heard her take her time
and bring him to the moment of truth, and heard her sighing and gulping
and his gasping and groaning. And I had a seeping little five inch hardon
staining my dress pants while it went on.
After he came, I heard her lick and kiss him, and he zipped up, and
then he laughed and I knew it was time to go so I began edging over to
the door with a projecting hardon in my pants, and I heard them talking
as I opened the door quietly.
"We better get goin, bitch!"
"Yes sir, (kiss) thank you!"
"Haw, haw, I forgot you did that. You always kiss de Black man's feet?"
My wife laughed in the way I know so well as I heard her kiss him again.
"It's just my way of thanking you sir. In the pr business it's like
tagging the product. I think it helps Black men remember me this way."
"Haw, haw, so we be usin yo again, is that it? Nex time I get the
afternoon rock maybe I'll drop by. That what you want, whore?"
She giggled, "Pinnacle pr at your service, sir."
I crept out and had to hold my hand over my crotch and dashed over
to some kiosks to hide behind as they emerged, and he patted her butt
again as she smiled, bidding him goodbye. Her low cut blouse showed
flushed breasts and a pink face with smudged lipstick, and I watched her
gaze at the black man's retreating back, licking her full lips. I watched
take out the silver compact I gave her last year and touch her makeup
and then stroll back to work.
Standing behind a newstand with a seeping rock, my world crashing around
me, I knew I had to jack off now, so I went back into the same mens room.
Somehow I was drawn to that corner stall, where I noticed the seat cover
was still down, and sat on it, lookind down where my sweet lovely bride
knelt moments before, eagerly servicing a black stud, and the thought
made my little penis spray gobs up into the air as soon as I touched it.
Back in my office I went through many conflicting emotions and considered
many courses of action, discarding them one by one. It was still erotic
to think about. Finally I called Sheila, wondering if somehow her voice
would be different with my secret knowledge interpreting.
"Oh, hi honey, it's you!"
"Um, hi dear. I just thought I'd call. How, um, is your day going?"
"Oooh," she said brightly, "not too bad, it has its ups and downs,
you know." The up and down of a thick black cock was in my mind.
I couldn't detect anything in her voice and it was making me crazy.
One part of me wanted to confront her, and the other didn't want to see
what that would result in. "Are you riding home with me tonight" I
finally asked.
"Oh," she said, and I knew she smiled by her voice, "well, tonight
my boss wants me to help entertain some new clients. I'll be home
later, honey, maybe around 12."
"Okay," I said woodenly. I felt ridiculous wishing her to have a
nice time. But then, I had never cum that hard until that moment in the
rest room, thinking of her sucking a black cock. Now I realized why
her pussy, which was always so stretched and puffy and drooly, was
especially so when she came home from these affairs. I also realized
why she preferred me to simply go down on her, because my little white
penis could never satisfy her and was barely able to even bring myself
to climax inside her loose cunt.
And now, I knew for certain what I was going to be served
later that night and my hardon had returned. The knowledge was sometimes
difficult and when I was at home and I knew she was out partying
I sobbed in frustration, but the undeniable fact was that I loved
imagining her doing it. When I would attempt to bring it up, she
seemed so happy about our life, and knowing now she was intentionally
feeding me her used Black loving body after a date, and I could tell
she was enjoying it immensely, made me want to continue to please her,
and I did.
That was four months ago, and for the first two months I never let
on to my lovely wife that I knew what she was doing, even when I brought
her to repeated orgasms tongue cleaning her sopping cunt and ass when
she came home. And sometimes she came home after a rough night.
Her face red with beard burns, suck marks on her neck and breasts,
the scent of negroe sperm everywhere as well as her soaked panties
testifying to her own copious orgams. She would always she was way too
sore for straight sex, but loved my gentle lapping on her sensitive
enlarged clitoris.
It came to a head when I was so angry she didn't come home for two days,
and I accused her with everything I knew. She wasn't as surprised as I
thought, and finally just shrugged as she slipped her dress off by
the bed, her low cut blouse showing new suck marks on her beautiful big
breasts.
"All right, Walter, what did you expect? You know I need Black cock
and you knew it when we married."
"But, but, " I protested, "in mens rooms? I heard you in there." Her
eyes widened at that, and I almost saw a blush.
"Well, I didn't know that, but it doesn't change anything. Lots of girls
in my business have black lovers and their husbands eventually accept it.
Why can't you be more understanding?"
I was flabbergasted, she was accusing me, making me feel guilty about
denying her pleasure. She looked so gorgeous, used and scented with
negroe stud lust all over her, and she knew I was unable to control my
passion for her. She patted me on the head and kissed me on the
forehead.
"Why don't we just pretend it never happened. Let's go to
bed now, Walter. I need your sweet gentle tongue especially tonight
and you know you love doing that." She smirked at my hardon sticking
out of my pants, and I bowed my head, feeling my cheeks get hot.
Ashamed and beaten, I followed her into bed, I wanted to put my face
between her legs and she knew it.
Within two weeks she had told me that orally was the only way she wanted
to have sex with me, and I should relieve myself in the bathroom, giving
me her used sopping panties for encouragement. I now satisfy
myself totally with my hand after she drifts off to blissful sleep,
sometimes tongue cleaning her soaked panties for company.
And she really does seem much happier now with our life. She goes out more
often, stays out later, and doesn't even try to hide the occasional
lovebite on a beautiful breast or even sperm flecks in her blonde hair
or her chin or the downy fur around her swollen pussy.
She has made me do lots of things I never thought I would, but the
one I hate most is Monday mornings when I go down to the mens room in
the lobby with a flair pen, furtively looking around like a vandal.
I found out that the janitor cleans all the walls off on the weekend
and once made the mistake of mentioning it to her. Now on Mondays
I write whatever she wants me to on the bathroom wall. This week it's:
"All Black males, Pinnacle's blonde receptionist worships Black Cock!
Ask for Sheila!"
and this is followed by our home phone number. I have taken so many
calls for her, and helped her screen the males and arrange dates as I
act as her social secretary.
"After all," she said with a smile, "I learned in PR it pays to advertise."
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