Interracial game

I hated that Tom loved this game. OK, the lovemaking
was usually great afterward. That part I liked a lot.
And getting dressed up is always fun. And yes, I like
the attention. (Everyone does, so long as it is
respectful.) It was just the deception part that I
hated. I know what it is like to be led on and I didn’t
like doing it to others. Still, you do crazy things for
love.

I am sure that all of you have heard about this game.
It normally goes something like this. The couple
arrives to a bar separately, one partner (usually the
woman) flirts with some of the patrons, and then the
other partner (usually the husband) comes over and
sweeps this ‘stranger’ off of her feet. They leave
together, both with hugely boosted egos. Tom and I have
played this game often over the last few years. (We
have been married for 5.) Lately, though, I have been
feeling like it is a little unfair to the guys being
flirted with. I mean, they are just trying to meet
someone too.

I devised a pretty good plan, one that should leave no
one hurt but that should also make Tom a little less
excited to play the game. To make sure no one was hurt,
I would arrive a little early and tell someone that
this was all a game my husband liked to play. That way
the person would not feel led on. To make Tom less
likely to want to play in the first place, I would pick
a really tall athletic person to talk with. Tom has
some insecurities, and I know his height bothers him.
(I have always felt that his insecurities are what have
made this a fun game for him – he gets to leave with
the girl.)

My favorite part of the game, really, is getting ready.
Tom likes to see me in new cloths so I get to keep a
pretty large wardrobe. Tonight had to be special. I
wore a tight-fitting black jersey fabric dress. It
hugged my body perfectly, and showed off all 5’6″ and
120 pounds of me. The horizontal halter-like strap that
criss-crossed around my shoulders showed off my 36C
breasts and the asymmetrical skirt showed off my long
legs. I felt beautiful and very, very sexy.

When I arrived at the bar I parked out back and then
walked around to the front door. Tom had selected the
bar from the yellow pages, and it was pretty
unremarkable. As I walked in I scanned the room. There
were a lot of younger men here (I am 26), so I guessed
there must be a college near by. I used to work at a
college, so it was kind of nice to be back in that
environment. Walking in, however, deserves comment. I
felt that every man’s eye was on me. I really loved
that.

It took me only about a minute to pick out the perfect
guy. And I mean perfect. After seeing him, Tom would
never want to play this game again. He must have been
6’4″ or 6’5″ and about 250 lbs. He looked like a
cartoon of what a football player should look like.
Tall, muscular, and very handsome. More than just that
(which would have been enough), he was black. I knew
that would drive my husband nuts. (Lets not get into
the details here – I had dated a black guy before and
my husband took forever to accept it.)

I walked directly up to him, introduced myself, and
asked if he would be willing to help me out. He was
disappointed at first, because I think he liked how I
looked, but agreed to flirt with me for about an hour
until my husband arrived. He understood that this was a
game, and that I didn’t want to lead him on. After a
bit, we kind of laughed about it all and started to
have a really nice time.

His name was John, he was a football player, and he was
an English major. He was very smart, very polite, and
very respectful. He was also very graceful – he and I
danced a few times. I kept thanking him and telling him
that he would be quite a catch for a single girl. That
made him laugh a bit, and he thanked me. “Seriously”,
he said, “having everyone here see me dancing with such
a beautiful woman will help me get more dates.
Guaranteed!” He was such a sweet man.

My plan was working perfectly, but Tom didn’t arrive on
time. When he was about an hour late I went outside and
checked my messages. There was one from him – he needed
to work late and had swung by the bar but didn’t see my
car. He apologized and said he’d be home by midnight.
It was 10 now so I should have just left. But not to be
rude I went in, told John what had happened, thanked
him, and told him I was leaving.

Being the polite man he was, John walked me out back to
my car and gave me a little hug. He said that he was
sorry that my plan didn’t work, but that he was really
happy to spend time with me. I thanked him for being a
good sport and gave him another little hug. He held on
this time, just a bit longer than he should have and I
pulled away – but just a little.

I reminded him of my situation and kissed him gently on
his cheek. He held my head, moved his, and kissed me on
my mouth. Now I’m not prude, and I have had my fair
share of experience, but I really didn’t intend to
cheat on my husband. As I was enjoying the kiss,
though, I went with it for a bit.

It had been a long time since I kissed a college k*d
and I was really enjoying myself, but I was going to
try and keep my limits. John’s huge had started rubbing
and pulling on my breast. I tried to stop him, but not
too hard. This was so exciting, but also so unplanned.
I was being pushed against the hood of my car by the
passionate monster of a man.

“Don’t leave me like this baby,” we whispered in my ear
as he pulled my hand toward his crotch. With my hand on
the front of his pants I could feel him straining to
get out. “Don’t leave me like this.” This was clearly
out of control, but was it my fault? I pulled him out
of his pants.

I stroked his long, hot, fat shaft as he kissed me
deeply and pressed my breasts. I was pretty sure, given
his age, that I could make him cum with my hand. I used
to love doing that in high school, and the thought
drove me wild now. A hand-job at my age – what a
scream!

But he was controlling the game. He pulled his mouth
away from mine and said that he needed to feel my lips.
I gave in completely and took him into my mouth without
argument. I love the look of a glistening cock, the
feel of the head pushing to the back of my throat, I
love seeing a happy man look down into my eyes. I was
too into this – I couldn’t wait for him to cum in my
mouth.

He told me to touch myself, that he wanted to see me
cum when he came. That took no convincing at all. I was
so excited that I couldn’t wait. I continued to stroke
him as I wiggled out of my panties. Once free I began
rubbing myself in unison with my stroking. This was so
erotic and so dangerous – I loved the feel of this
large man thrusting in and out of my mouth. That alone
may have been enough, but rubbing myself simultaneously
was almost too much.

Just as I was almost there he pulled away and asked for
my hand again, saying that he needed to kiss me. While
I pulled on this large man he moved closer to me and
told me to use him to make myself cum. I pulled his
shaft along my swollen lips and ran his head around my
clit. This was absolutely fantastic!

He kissed me as I did this and the second that my
orgasm began he pulled me closer, kissed me harder, and
pushed his body into mine. I was completely under his
power, he was much larger than me, and held my mouth
quiet with his. He thrust deeply into me quickly and
continued to move in and out of me with a shocking
confidence.

I was being fucked by a stranger on the hood of my car.
A large, passionate black man was fucking me like my
husband only thinks he can, and I was doing nothing to
stop it. No – I was thrusting my hips to meet his – I
was begging him now. “Fuck me John – this is my
husband’s fault – he should have been here, fuck me
John like you love me, like you own me.”

His last thrust almost made me pass out. He held my
face close to his, held eye contact, and came deeply
into me. I kissed him, I didn’t want him to pull out,
but I had to go. He asked me to come back, or to send
him an email, to see him again.

In truth, John has no idea, but I have been emailing
him for a few months, even though I haven’t gone to see
him again.