It didn’t fall apart at first. Instead, a spidery trail shot from the wounded center just above the stem. I watched the white fractures drag across the rounded surface; I watched the wine slowly, slowly begin to seep through the fresh cracks—only just lining them with deep burgundy before beginning to slide down the smooth walls. I watched the liquid push tiny slivers from the newly broken skin; they swam in the pool accumulating across from me.
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It has been a few weeks since my last sexual experience, school was going fine and living with Brian was going great. I was enjoying exploring my attraction to men. I had read about the bathhouse scene in gay magazines that Brian had let me read. I was thinking a lot about the stories I read about bathhouses. My curiosity for the bathhouse scene was growing day by day.
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Intro:
As you remember in the last saga my husband had begged me to turn him into a cuckold. As things turned out I found out that he wanted to see me fucking other men, and not just any men, but black men with big black cocks. It was a torturous decision for me, but as I loved Billy so much I finally made contact with a black man on Billy’s favorite adult web page, and ended up making a date with Jamul M. Washington that lasted the whole weekend. And that weekend my husband, dressed in a sissy French Maid’s costume became my favorite cuckold, and I in return became his favorite dirty white married slut for black cock.
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