Looking at My Wife This December Morning...

I would crave nothing but to see my wife having the most enjoyable sex with another man besides me. 

It is the first day of the new month that is December in this current year of our Lord. My eyes blink open to see the morning dawn beyond the curtains of my window; all is peaceful and all is well.

My wife is asleep beside me, huddled like an igloo under the covers. I try to be quiet as I slip out of the covers, slip my feet into my slippers, and make for the bathroom to loosen my bowels and wash my face. What a great way to welcome myself into the start of the new month. But every month comes with worries, with love and pain, with heartaches and whatever else I cannot even imagine. Such isn’t what weighs on my mind, however, as I exist the bathroom as quiet as I’d arrived and leave the bedroom.

I go and settle in my study room, light up a cigar, and listen to some smooth jazz music from my iPhone. The house is quiet and I love it; this is usually my favourite time to think. I am sitting there imagining someone is upstairs in bed with my wife, Natasha. I am wishing someone is there keeping her company and cosy, someone who isn’t me. I am wishing that last night had ended with a bang: that this mystery fellow had gotten into bed with her and fucked her while I sat in my lounge chair watching them.

 It is the start of a new month, and you’re probably reading this and wondering why am I having such crazy thoughts about my wife. Why would a loving husband like myself want to imagine someone else fucking my wife aside from me? Could it possibly be that I don’t find Natascha sexy and arousing anymore? Could it be that the love we’ve had this many years has since faded from glory and we’re nothing but living through a husk of a marriage?

Nothing of such could be farther from the truth. I love my wife very much, and the feeling is mutual. However, for the longest time I have always desired to see her in bed with another man. Not another man becoming her husband, rather as a lover. Yes, you read that correctly: I would crave nothing but to see my wife having the most enjoyable sex with another man besides me. 

My ideal image is that he would be a black man.

You might wonder why a black man: wouldn’t that seem too awkward to have a man of colour bed my wife? For some right-winged thinker, that might be perceived as racist? However, I’d like to disagree. I’ve imagined a black man fucking my wife because I’d like to see someone make my Natasha scream aloud in bed, and I know only a black man would be capable of making that happen. 

Natasha knows about my secret desires; never have I been one to hide my thoughts from her. She is game to give it a try, but it’s been tough to find a good person to make this dream come through. You might assume such would be an easy feat: head out to a bar or some socialising venue where single guys frequent, chat with the first black person you encounter and then make the proposal. Sounds quick and easy, doesn’t it? WRONG! Don’t ever think to go there. If a fellow doesn’t know you from Adam, then chances are you’re likely to be mistaken for someone soliciting gay sex.

Sure, there are online forums and websites where such persons harbouring similar wants are do regularly visit. That includes various social media avenues, where one can put feelers out and see if anyone responds. But chances are the fellow might be a no-show, or might even be pretending to be what they aren’t. I’ve encountered more white men pretending to be black men online than I’ve corresponded with actual black bulls. And the issue with some of the black bulls is down to location: there is every likelihood that they reside far from where you are. How then can I get them to come and be with my Natasha without going out of my way to make some form of monetary sacrifice? Would that be suitable, I wonder? 

I want the sort of man who would fuck my Natasha, convert her into the hotwife of my dreams, make me into a sissy-cuck, and possibly convert us to bend under his willpower.

And what would Natasha think should she learn later that I’d made some financial sacrifice to ensure our dream becomes a reality?

Perhaps I am looking at this with a foolhardy perspective. The objective is to get my wife Blacked. However I can accomplish this is left for me to dare myself to commit to the impossible. That is what I have promised to myself, and it’s a promise I ensure to keep. I simply have to ensure I have the right man for the job. 

Who might this right man be for Natasha? 

A Black Master, for sure. That’s the right type of man I need. A bull can only come to fuck Natasha and then leave without further thought of seeing her again. A Black Master, from what I’ve learned, would fuck her multiple times and seduce her mind so she won’t ever rid herself of the experience. 

I want the sort of man who would fuck my Natasha, convert her into the hotwife of my dreams, make me into a sissy-cuck, and possibly convert us to bend under his willpower. I’ve wanted to be a cuckold husband for as far back as I can remember. The idea of seeing my wife whimper and cry from getting pounded, used, and fucked by a superior man fills me with much anxious that I attain an erection from merely thinking about it.

I demand for Natasha to become a horny back cock-slut who’d think and dream of black cock every passing hour of each day. She perceives I merely want her to indulge in swinger-type sex because it would bring some type of fun to our marriage. A black cock would get her addicted to where she wouldn’t want anything further. 

Wouldn’t you agree?

Dawn is almost here. I extinguish my cigar and head upstairs to see about waking Natasha. Perhaps we’ll fool around a bit before we get ready for the new day of the new month. I have in mind to use her favourite black dildo on her.

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