A wife has sex with three black men in front of her husband.

There are fantasies that live in your head for years. You replay them before bed, adding details, removing unnecessary parts, but you never think they'll actually happen. And then Friday happens, a bottle of red wine, and my husband, looking me straight in the eye, says, "Let's do it. Right now." It was his idea. Or rather, it was my secret, which he dragged out of me six months ago when we'd had too much to drink and gotten too personal. I blurted out, blushing like a freshman, that I was turned on by contrast. That I, a blonde with pale skin, had always been turned on by the thought of what it was like to be the center of such attention... from black guys. My husband chuckled strangely, but dropped the subject. And then yesterday I brought it up again. "Just make sure I don't take pictures," he said, adjusting the camera on his phone. "And I'm in charge of the parade." I thought he was joking. Until the doorbell rang. There were three of them. I don't know where Dima found them—maybe in the gym, maybe somewhere else. They were incredibly tall, nearly two meters each. As wide as wardrobes. One wore a backwards baseball cap, another a gold chain, and the third a neat little beard. They walked into the living room, and the room immediately felt smaller. They reeked of testosterone. A smell that instantly made my mouth go dry. Dima poured the whiskey and explained the rules: no names, no kissing on the lips, and no hard feelings. Just a photo shoot for the personal archive. Just fantasy. The guys were looking at me. Not undressing me is putting it mildly. They were scanning me like an X-ray. I stood there in a short silk robe over my naked body and felt my nipples swell under their gaze. My legs instantly became wet and hot. "Turn around," said the one with the chain. His voice was low and drawn out. I obeyed. The robe opened at the hips, revealing my legs almost to my buttocks. "Holy shit," the second one, wearing a baseball cap, exhaled. "Diman, your wife is absolutely stunning. Are you sure you don't mind?" Dima, already settled in a chair with a phone, just waved his hand: “Get to work.” It all started slowly. They didn't pounce. At first, they simply stroked me. Their hands were huge, dark, with pinkish palms. The contrast with my pale skin was insane, surreal. When the hand of the guy with the beard landed on my stomach and slowly crept up to my chest, I shuddered as if I'd been electrocuted. He squeezed my breast, swiped his thumb over my nipple. "Already wet," he chuckled. "Listen, guys, she's dripping like crazy." The one with the chain untied the belt of my robe. The fabric fell to the floor. I stood in front of three strangers, completely naked, and it was the most arousing thing I'd ever experienced in my life. My husband was filming close-up. “Get on your knees,” Golden Chain commanded. I sank down onto the carpet. The soft pile tickled my knees pleasantly. His flies appeared in front of my face. The smell of sweat, arousal, and leather became unbearably pungent. I unzipped the first one. I pulled out his cock. It was heavy, hot, with a dark, almost chocolate-colored head. I wrapped my lips around it, and a feeling of both power and submission washed over me. I took him into my mouth, as deep as I could, listening to him hiss through his teeth, "Oh yes, white bitch, come on." The second one stood to the side, stroking my head. The third one, with a beard, lowered himself behind me. I felt his fingers spread my labia, his fingers trace my clitoris, then his finger enter me. All the way in. "So tight," he said from behind. "And wetter than ever." I moaned, the black cock in my mouth, feeling the fingers moving inside me from behind, kneading and stretching. Dima stood up from his chair and came closer, filming everything from a meter away. He met my gaze. There wasn't jealousy in his eyes, but a wild, animalistic excitement. He liked it as much as I did. "Stop jerking off," said the guy with the chain, taking his cock out of my mouth. "I want to fuck her." He lifted me by the shoulders, turned me around, and pushed me onto the couch. I braced my hands on the armrest, arched my back, and presented my ass. He entered from behind, in one powerful, smooth movement. His large black cock entered me completely, filling me right down to my throat. I screamed. Not from pain, but from the feeling of being torn apart from the inside, filled completely. “Louder,” he growled, starting to move. Each of his thrusts sent shockwaves through me. He was bigger than Dima, so much bigger, and I felt myself stretching, my body accepting him. The visuals were equally maddening: dark hands on my pale thighs, squeezing the skin until it turned red. A black man in a baseball cap stood opposite. He shoved his dick into my mouth again, and I sucked it in time with the thrusts from behind. The one with the beard positioned himself to the side, and I took his dick in my hand, jerking him off, feeling the veins pulsate. The four of us moved like a single machine. The only sounds that could be heard were the squelching sounds, my muffled groans, and their heavy breathing. “I’m changing,” the one who was fucking me suddenly said and left. I groaned at the loss, but then I felt another man enter me—the one with the beard. He entered and froze. "Rolling her eyes," he chuckled. "Like it, huh, Snow White?" I couldn't speak, only moaned. He began to fuck me hard, deep, reaching all the way to my cervix. I came suddenly for the first time, the wave that washed over me was so sharp that I jerked and thrashed, but he held me by the waist in a death grip. - Where did you go? Be patient. They changed each other several times. They inserted themselves into me, into my mouth, and then back into my pussy. I lost track of time. I only remember how they stood me up, and one fucked me from behind, and I sucked the second one, and at the same time jerked off the third one with my hand. I remember how one came in my mouth, and there was so much sperm, hot and thick, that I could barely swallow it. I remember how another came on my stomach and chest, smearing it all over my skin. And the third came deep inside when he was already lying on top of me, pressing me into the couch with his weight. When it was all over, I lay there, arms spread out, all sticky and swollen, with a sore throat and an ache between my legs. Dima turned off the recording. The guys were getting dressed, joking among themselves. "She's a hot chick," one of them said as he left. "If anything, we're always in touch." The door slammed. I was left with my husband. He came over, squatted down, and brushed my wet hair from my face. “How are you?” he asked quietly. I tried to smile. My lips were swollen and hard to move. - I... I don't know what to say. "You don't have to," he kissed my forehead. "You were so fucking sexy. Come on, I'll clean you up." In the bathroom, standing under the warm water, I felt what had leaked out of me trickle down my legs. I pressed myself against my husband and thought: we've crossed the line. We've done it.