Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Kirsten - Part the First



   It began with a whim seventeen months ago.  Kirsten and I used to watch
adult videos.  Now in reality I liked them far more than Kirsten did, but
she was endulged my desires.  She did tell me once she liked the ones with
two men and a woman and especially the double penetration scenes.  The day
before it happened I went to Southern Video to find a video.  None of the
double pentration stuff I hadn't seen looked particularly exciting so I
looked around more than usual and spotted the interracial section.  Some
featured grous action, so I picked one starring Sean Michaels and some
other guy whose name I have forgotten.  One of the girls was Rachel Ryan,
another was Tabitha Cash.  I had watched interracial videos before and
found them prettyexciting, but I hadn't rented any for me and Kirsten to
see together. Anyway, I rented it--just for a change of pace.  Kirsten used
to watch the videos I rented with an aloof air, but she reacted differently
to this one.  The more she watched, the more excited she got.  Kirsten is a
hot and passionate blonde, but our love making that night was more intense
and pleasurable than usual.  I thought I had had a knockout idea.



   Done, we cuddled in each other's arms.  I commented that the video had
really turned her on.  She confessed that was true.  "I imagined," she
said, "that I was with two Black men, sitting on top of one, working his
dick with my pussy while the other straddled me and fucked my butt hole. 
Ooh!!  It was really nice." I told her half-jokingly that she had had a
wild fantasy and that that was alright with me.  I didn't mind.  I wasn't
jealous of a fantasy.  "But, what if it was more than just a fantasy?" she
pouted.  "What would you think if I told you I was dying to fuck a Black
man?" I said, "Wow!  I think that's wild.  You're kidding aren't you? 
Orrr. . .  Or, are you serious about it?"



   "This is going to be a surprise, Charles.  I 'm sorry I never told you
before, but watching that video tonight. . .  I just have to tell you.  I
really am attracted to Black men.  They're so sexy.  Some psychologist on a
TV talk show, I don't remember her name, said that Black men are the sex
symbol of the nineties.  And she was so right.  Charles.  I've had
fantasies about Black men since I was fifteen.  We had a Black football
coach in high school back in Decatur and he also taught science.  I had him
for Biology when I was a sophomore.  He was twenty-three, vey dark, and
really good-looking and athletic.  He dressed well and was wicked.  He was
so sexy.  And, I had a crush on him and it was something I couldn't talk
about with my friends.  I just had to bottle it up and I had half forgotten
about it until tonight.



   "His name was Mr.  Tyrell and he was always sweet.  I liked to tease
him, hoping he ould react and maybe get something going with me.  Whenever
I wore a skirt or dress I would sit with my legs spread apart enough so he
could catch a glimpse of my panties.  And, sometimes when we were doing an
assignment and he was just sitting at his desk, I would go up and ask him
about the assignment or something just so I could tease him.  And I would
lean forward so he couldn't help but look down my top and see my bra.  And
then his dick would get hard and make his pants bulge.  (Adults don't think
girls notice that kind of thing, but we really do, you know.) He would get
embarrassed and kind of nervous, but he never made a pass at me.  Scared, I
guess, because I was white and this was the South and I was far too young.
I was jailbait.



   "Anyway, I used to daydream about going out with him and about us
kissing and necking.  I don't remember going all the way with him in my
daydreams, but I did have a fantasy of us getting married and moving up
North, anyplace but Decatur.  He got married half-way through the school
year and I thought his wife was a Black bitch, but she wasn't.  She taught
at Decatur High too and I had her for 11th grade English and I found out
she was really nice too.  But I was over my crush by then anyway.



   "After high school I went to college and got involved with Gerard (my
predecessor in Kirsten's affections) right away.  It lasted all through
college and it was the biggest mistake I ever made. . . .  The Bastard. 
Well, anyway I just wasn't free then.  If I had been, well I was a
cheerleader, you know, and I might have gotten something going with one of
the Black guys on the football team.  Some of them were really good-looking
and flirted with me and I flirted right back.  But it didn't go any further
than that.  Two of the other cheerleaders were definitely fooling around
with the players.  I heard a rumor that Judy had the starring role in a
gangbang with all of the Black guys on the squad.  Nobody ever told her
about the rumor and I don't really know if it was true. . .  I never got
involved with one of the players beyond a flirt.  I felt Gerard and I were
committed to each other.  I didn't know he was fooling around with Betsy or
Mandy or Meagan or. . .  If I had known, well.  There was Derek, the right
tackle. . .



   "Anyway that was a long time ago," she giggled, "I met you and I am
happy enough with you, even though you don't know how to treat a beautiful
woman, Charles.  And, I don't want to have an affair with someone else or
fool around with anybody. . .  behind your back."



   "That almost sounds like you want to fool around in front of my back." I
said.



   She didn't say anything for long time.  Finally she said, "I guess
that's what I would really like to do.  I mean I would like to make it
with. . .  a Black man.  Just seeing Sean Michaels making it with Rachel
Ryan made me wonder what it would be like. . .  I mean it's not like I want
to have a lot of affairs or something.  I just want to make it once with a
Black guy so when I'm old I won't feel like I've missed out on something I
really wanted to do when I was young.  Do you understand what I'm talking
about, Charles?"



   I said, "Kirsten, I don't own you.  I've always regarded you as free to
have friendships with other men and, if that friendship including having
sex with them, I would never complain.  I can't and I won't say no." (And I
couldn't.  She was really the boss in our marriage.  If she had woken up in
the night and had to pee and was too fagged to climb out of bed to go to
the bathroom and if she would have asked me to save her the trip by letting
her pee in my mouth, I would have asked her if she wanted me to drink it or
carry it to the toilet in my mouth.)



   "What do you have in mind, Kirsten?" Do you want to start going to some
bars where Black guys hang and flirt around until you find one you want?"



   "No.  I am a married woman, silly.  I have to think about my reputation.
Why don't we put a personal ad in the newspaper or the Internet or maybe
both?  I mean how would you feel about helping me, Charles?  You're really
good at writing.  Much better than me.  Could you write the ad for me?  You
can look over the responses and help me pick out the ones worth checking
out."



   I wrote two ads, one for the internet and one for the newspaper the next
day.  Kirsten looked them over and suggested changing my wording to make
them less explicit.  Here's what the final versions said:.  I placed the
first one on the Internet to alt.personals and alt.personals.ads and the
second in the Atlanta Constitution.



   The Internet ad read:



   AC 404 -- MWF, 24, 5' 8" weight very proportional to height, pretty and
intelligent blonde with blue eyes, likes sports, personal fitness,
conversation and fine dining.  Wants to meet BM, purpose friendship. 
Husband knows and approves, but discretion is a must.  E-mail with image
(if available) to . . .



   The newspaper ad read:



   MWF, 24, 5' 8" weight very proportional to height, pretty and
intelligent blonde with blue eyes, likes sports, personal fitness,
conversation and fine dining.  Wants to meet BM, purpose friend- ship. 
Discretion is a must.  Reply with photo to. . .



   Ten days later, on a Tuesday afternoon, I counted up the replies.  We
had twenty-seven from the newspaper ad and thirteen from the Internet.  I
got the chore of doing the preliminary sort and, if I remember rightly, had
to toss twenty-two of the newspaper responses into the trash right away as
well as eleven of the Internet replies.  You wouldn't believe the crap we
got from white racists (and one really nasty letter from a Black woman
telling my wife to keep her dirty hands off of Black men) and the crude
drivel some of the (supposedly) Black guys wrote.  Kirsten was happy.  "I
still have seven to chose from." She looked at the first e-mail.  "This
guy's photo just completely turns me off.  He's got such a silly
expression." (Kirsten despises looking at the monitor so I had printed out
the e-mail of the guys who made the cut.)



   Reading the next printout, she said, "And this one doesn't sound right.
I don't think he's Black and even if he is I don't think I want to meet
him. He's yucky." She didn't explain her comment and I didn't think it up
to me to question her judgment.  So I just said, "That still leaves five
and I put the best ones on the bottom," in a soothing tone.  "Want to
check, say, the bottom three next?" She took me up on my suggestion and
started reading them.  Two of them were letters.  One was an e-mail.  All
three were fairly long, even the e-mail was two pages plus an attached JPEG
image.  Their length and tone was what had impressed me.  None of the three
authors was crude; they all seemed lively and interested in Kirsten as more
than a quick lay.



   The author of the first of the final cut letters did not inclose a
photo, but he did write the longest letter.  He wrote about his interests
and told how he enjoyed the things Kirsten likes.  He was greatly
interested in politics and current events and was, he said, one of Rush
Limbaugh's dittoheads.  He said he was a big Braves and Falcons fan.  He
liked white women, he said, because they were less bitchy than Black women.
(That doesn't match my own feelings and experience, but who knows.  Maybe
he rubbed them the wrong way.) He didn't describe himself and that along
with his conservative politics struck me as strange.  But, Kirsten was too.
"Too bad he didn't enclose a photo.  He sounds like the kind of guy I would
like to get to know."



   The second guy was the e-mail which included a JPEG image of himself in
a swimsuit.  He was very dark-skinned, handsome, and looked very muscular.
I couldn't help noticing that he filled the jockstrap he must have been
wearing under the swimsuit very adequately.  He seemed more interested in
participating in sports than the first guy, with a liking for swimming,
baseball and running.  Kirsten studied his photo long and hard.  "Yes, put
him on the 'call tonight' list.  I had a feeling that this fellow might be
the one.  This whole thing was not my idea.  It was Kirsten's.



   The third author also included a photo.  He was a light-skinned Black, a
career Army officer, married and looking for an extra-marital adventure. 
He was also a native of Georgia and had gone to UGA (That's the University
of Georgia, Athens for you yankees.) on an ROTC scholarship.  Kirsten said,
"Impressive, but not for me.  He's awfully light-skinned" Well, there was
that, but Kirsten had always had an aversion for the military.  She was an
Army brat and a lot of them are like that.  Maybe, if he had been
dark-skinned, she might have overlooked his military position.



   In the end she decided to contact the first two.  I sent an e-mail to
the first guy asking him for a phone number.  Kirsten did not want to wait
so she called the second man whose name was Hussan.  After a thirty minute
conversation about all and sundry, they made a date to meet at 8:00 that
Friday at ________.  (I don't see any reason to mention the restaurant's
name, but it was better than plebian class.) Kirsten told Hussan that I
knew about her desire for "friendship" with a Black man and that I had no
objection.  "As a matter of fact, Hussan," she said, "he's sitting here
listening to us talk on the phone wondering what you're saying to make me
laugh and giggle so much.  Let me ask him if he would like to come along
and meet you too and, you know, be our chaperone.  Just in case we get too
friendly, too quickly." I couldn't hear his reply, but it made her laugh
lightly.  After a few more minutes of repartee, she hung up.  "Whew," she
said.  I guess I should have been alarmed at how her plans were
progressing, but our love-making that evening was hot, passionate and
totally satisfying, I kept my peace.  She even gave me a blowjob--something
she does only when she is especially pleased with me, maybe two or three
times a year.



   Thursday afternoon I got an e-mail from the other man who was named
George.  As soon it came I told Kirsten.  "You probably won't want it now
that you have a date with Hussan, but George sent me his phone number." She
sniffed, "And what if it doesn't work out with Hussan?  Suppose he smells
or smokes.  Gee, I forgot to ask him about that.  No, I want a backup."
"So," I said, "what if it works out with Hussan and you do the deed with
him, are you going to stand up George?  You said you only wanted to do it
once with a Black man." She pondered that one for a moment.  "I said," she
ventured, "once with a Black guy, but I guess I meant at least once."

   The phone conversation closely resembled the one she had with Hussan. 
She wanted to know what he looked like and got a detailed description.  He
was 6' 1" tall, weighed 180 pounds, had brown eyes, moustache, and short
black hair.  He was, he said, from Zaire of pure Bantu ancestry with
jet-black skin, flattened nose, wide sensual lips, strong mouth and chin.
Both of his parents had come to the U.  S.  in the 1960s as students and
stayed to make careers and have a family.  Lots better than the turmoil at
home.  He was concerned that Kirsten might reject him out of hand as too
black, if he had come out with it from the start.  He needn't have worried.
She was clearly excited about meeting him.  She gave him the same routine
about me and my chaperone role she had given Jamal.  They made a date for
7:30, Saturday week.  He promised a Congolese meal for the two of us,
though it wouldn't be completely authentic.  It's hard to get monkey meat
in Atlanta. . . .

   Hussan arrived at the restaurant before we did.  The maitre d' asked if
we were with Mr.  P________ (no need for his last name either) and when we
said we were led us to our table.  Hussan was immaculately clean and
well-groomed.  He didn't smell; he didn't smoke.  The conversation was
lively.  We talked about "them Dawgs" (doing poorly this year again), the
Braves (need I say more) and Falcons' prospects.  Hussan and I talked about
business and the economy while Kirsten visited the ladies.  As best I
remember we all had a cocktail before dinner.  "Only one for me and
Kirsten," Hussan said, "Drink gives you the will, but takes away your
ability." Kirsten was hooked with that line.  She suggested Hussan skip the
restaurant's dessert menu.  "I'll be your dessert, Hussan and you'll be
mine" she told him.  "What about your man Charles there?" he said.  "Don't
worry about him.  he'll get his dessert too," she said.

   We had known well in advance that we would have a problem in deciding
where to go if Kirsten and Jamal hit it off.  We didn't know Jamal well
enough to let him come to our place and, quite frankly, I was very
reluctant to drive into the southwest area of the city where he lived.  So
we had pre-rented a hotel room a few miles away from the restaurant.  We
decided to take both cars.  Kirsten surprised me by riding with me.  "I
don't want everyone to see what I'm up to," she explained.  "I do have a
sense of modesty, you know, even I have to forego some necking with
Hussan."

   We arrived at the motel a few minutes before Hussan.  I cracked open the
bottle of champagne I had chilling in an ice bucket while Kirsten slipped
off her shoes and lay down on the bed.  She sat up when Hussan arrived and
patted the bed, saying, "Don't be a stranger, Hussan." They were soon
necking.  Hussan's hand soon moved inside her blouse and then slipped under
her short skirt.  She moaned and pushed his hand away.  "Let's have some
champagne first," she said.  We drank champagne.

   Hussan poured it down his throat and was ready for more action.  His
hands soon returned to their offensive on Kirsten's boobs and pussy and
Kirsten was definitely warming up.  She couldn't keep her hands off him,
hugging him and squeezing his buns and rubbing his crotch.  "Want'a see
what you're getting tonight, Hussan?" she asked.  With that she stripped
off her blouse and skirt, showing off her pale blue bra and matching
panties.  She wasn't wearing her usual pantyhose, but a matching garter
belt, black nylons and black pumps.  "Like it, loverboy?" she said, undoing
her bra--she doesn't often wear one because her boobs are pretty small,
"Nearly A," as the package says.  Her panties quickly followed, but she
kept her nylons and garter belt on.  With that she laid down on the bed on
her back and spread her legs.  The white skin of her legs skin contrasted
nicely with the dark patch of her pussy hair in the fairly dim light of the
motel room.  Kirsten was a natural ash-blonde and her pussy hair was
naturally a darker shade of brown.

   She waited, rubbing her pussy lightly as Hussan hurriedly stripped off
his sports shirt and trousers and sat down on the bed to take off his shoes
and socks.  Kirsten distracted him by stroking his leg and running her hand
through his chest hair (He hadn't worn a tee shirt.) and rubbing the front
of his shorts which was already showing a very substantial bulge.  He
brushed her hand away gently , but firmly and stood up to peel off his
shorts.  I had already noticed how dar-brown his skin was in the
restaurant. Now I saw that his cock was jet-black, even the head.  It was
also long, thick and standing at a right angle to his torso.  Now naked, he
sat down next to Kirsten.  She took his cock in her hand and began stroking
it lightly.  "Like that?" she said.  "Yeah, baby," he said.  She bent over
and took his cock into her mouth and was sucked it, her head bobbing in
towards his belly and then bobbing away.  She also slipped her right hand
between his legs and was stroking and queezing his balls gently as she
sucked his dick.  I didn't time her, but I guess she went on for at least
two or maybe even three minutes before she came up for air.

   "Is that good, baby?" she asked.  "Do you want more?" "Oh, yeah, that
was fine, but let's get on with the main course, if you're ready." "Oh, I'm
ready, baby." She signalled me and I handed her an unwrapped condom just as
we had planned it.  "Let me put it on for you," she said, slipping it over
the head of his cock and rolling it down as far as it would go.  I was glad
I had bought the extra-large size.  A regular one would not have fit him.
Properly fitted now, Hussan turned and climbed fully on to the bed,
kneeling between Kirsten's legs.  He took her by the knees and spread her
legs wide and back towards the sides of her chest.  "Take them, baby, and
hold 'em a second," he said.  She did as he asked.  He seized her ankles
and pushed her legs even further back, making her toes touch the ground
beside her head.  "Show me the way in," he said.  With that Kirsten took
hold of his great cock (I was only now saw just how big it really was--8,
maybe 9".) and adjusted it to the tiny opening of her cunt.



   With a grunt, Hussan slowly began feeding his black cock into Kirsten's
pink pussy.  I couldn't see as well as I would have liked in the motel
room, but I saw it slowly disappear, inch by inch, inside my pretty wife's
cunt.  "Oh, God, yessss!" she moaned.  "Fuck me.  Fuck me pleasssse!!!"
Hussan seemed to take a full minute to get himself fully seated, but he was
finally as deep as he could go.  Kirsten had taken every black inch of his
cock.  He began to slowly withdraw it.  "Nooooo," she cried.  "I want it. I
need it."



   Hussan began pumping his hips and I could hear the wet sucking noises
that a cock and pussy sometimes make.  He picked up speed and as his speed
increased, Kirsten came, a massive orgasm which had her humping her hips
furiously to meet her thrusts, moaning and panting from her excitement. 
When she finished Jamal paused.  Kirsten said, "No.  I need it.  Don't
stop! No, God, don't stop.  Faster. . .  " Hussan picked up speed.  I
couldn't see inside Kirsten, but I knew his cock was now very, very hard.
Her cunt was squeezing it more tightly now, adding to the friction,
bearable only because her lubricant was flowing freely.  He pumped
furiously and again she came.  This time, however, she was not alone.  I
could tell from the way he groaned and ground his pelvis to meet her that
he too was cumming.  I sensed he was spurting a lot of semen inside
Kirsten. There were at least five or six distinct spurts.



   Jamal rolled off Kirsten, holding the rubber on his dick and panting a
few seconds.  His dick softened quickly.  Kirsten sat up and pulled the
condom off Hussan's dick.  It was so full of semen it drooped.  At least
two tablespoons.  She handed it to me and said, "Flush it, please." I did
as she ordered.  As I returned Hussan was stroking her ass and licking her
boobs and sucking the nipples.  This was mere afterplay.  He hadn't
anything left for the moment for an encore.  He pulled on his clothes,
saying he had to work the next morning.  He was very sorry about having to
go and it was midnight.  He would like, he said, another date with Kirsten
when they could spend more time together.  Kirsten said she would call and
with that he left.

   When he was gone I sat down next to Kirsten.  She lay there with her
legs spread wide, recovering from her orgasms.  She was smiling dreamily,
but gradually started her return to the land of the living.  She asked me
if I wanted some dessert.  I knew what she wanted and what Jamal hadn't
given her--tongue in her pussy.  I knelt between her legs and began licking
her clit and sucking her pussy hair to warm her up.  Then I slowly pushed
my tongue deep into her cunt, swallowing her lubrication greedily, then
back to her clit.  She wrapped her lags tightly around my neck and forced
me to roll over on my back.  Then she was up and turning into a sixty-nine
position.  More pussy licking until she came.

   The whole time I was doing this my nose was poking into her asscrack. 
Of course, I've always liked this.  I shifted my attention to her asshole
for I loved to lick and deep tongue this opening too.  As I began doing it,
she opened my zipper and took out my dick, stroking it lightly and kneading
my balls just as she had done to Hussan.  She did not suck it, however.  I
asked her for it, but she said she had already done her quota of blowjobs
for the evening.  So I took my dick in my own trusty right hand and began
stroking it as I tongue-fucked her asshole.  She straightened up and began
setting the rhythm for my tongue.  I always love this and came within
thirty seconds after she began assfucking my tongue.  She wiped up my cum
with a hanky and stuffed it back in her purse.  We spent the night there,
both of us too worn out to make love again.  Kirsten hugged me before we
went to sleep, telling me it was me she loved and what had happened was
just for recreation.

   To be Continued



   Copyright 1997.  All rights reserved--Downloaders from the Internet may
use it for personal use only.  Reproduction or retransmission is
prohibited.