Black Cock Rubicon

This is another letter in our series, Asian Girl's First Big Black Cock.

Dear Asian Queen Network,

I know some of us girls came to be Queens naturally. Some may have dated black guys when they were young and then continued with it as a known preference even when they went on to marry white or Asian men. Many of us, though, made the concrete decision to become hotwives. I'm not going to bore you with my backstory, who I am, where I met my husband or how unfulfilling our sex life was.

Instead, just imagine...

I'm lying on my back watching my first big black cock slide its way into me. It's a moment that didn't seem like it would ever happen and, in that moment, didn't seem real.

It's become my reality ever since, though. In the last ten years, barely a week has gone by when I haven't had a large black cock inside me. It all started with that one thrust. In a moment, I became what my husband always wanted me to be, what I always should have been - a hotwife and a Queen.

There were a million things that could have got in the way. The biggest of those was myself. I fought against this every step of the way. Fought against my own needs.

I've been prevaricating all evening, conditioned by social convention to bury my own sexuality under a mountain of neuroses. It's amazing that I've even gotten this far.

David has been holding me, kissing my neck gently, his hand cupping my small breasts. Suddenly, he pushes me back onto the bed, mounts me, waits for a single nod from me and then reaches over to the nightstand and rips a condom packet open. It goes on in one fluid motion, and then he's guiding his cock inside me. In that moment, I could shake my head. I could pull my legs tighter together. Instead, for just that moment, I open them wider.

Despite all my reservations, my body wants this stranger.

The first shallow thrust feels little different from Brian, my husband, but then David adjusts his position and trusts again. This time he's deeper. I'm fuller. It's a qualitatively different feeling than I'm used to.

I let out a moan, half pain and half surprise. There's no pleasure yet, but there is possibility. I find myself looking up into David's eyes. He has paused, making sure that I'm okay. In my peripheral vision, I see Brian move and take up position in the chair we had prepared for him. I keep my eyes locked on David, and I find myself melting a little. He's a handsome man.

And I want to make love with him.

For the last ten minutes, all I've been aware of is his cock. And his cock is ridiculous. At first, I couldn't believe my eyes when he dropped his trousers. Then I could barely bring myself to look at it. It was indecent. It was shaming. That monster was supposedly for me. It was something I was supposed to want.

But now, with it hidden, buried inside me, David is suddenly not ridiculous anymore. He's attractive and muscled, and he smells fantastic. And I find, twenty seconds after being penetrated and several hours after agreeing, at least in principle, to have sex, that I am really, really turned on by this man.

"Kiss me," I tell him. That was one of our rules. One of my rules. I said I wasn't going to kiss. But I know now that I am. I can't see Brian's face from here. He has a safeword if he's too unhappy.

When our lips lock, I get more of that masculinity. David's scent and the light scratch of his stubble on my chin.

It's intoxicating.

And that's not just a fancy way of saying it's nice. It actually seems to be a mood-altering, behaviour-altering drug. My shyness and my reservations are melting away. All the reasons why this is a bad idea, all the pressure that's been put on me to do this, they all become distant.

I want him.

I want him to want me.

And I can see from the passion in his kiss and the hunger in his eyes that he does.

And that feels more amazing than any simple motion of our bodies.

"Fuck me," I tell him.

Was it the moment that he entered me, or was it those two words which marked the point of no return? Somewhere between the two, I've crossed my Rubicon. I was forced into this, pressured. But now, I'm here I am.

I'm going to enjoy this and damn the consequences.

"Are you sure, Sandra?" asks David. Maybe that wasn't as expressive as I thought, or maybe he's suffering from whiplash. I've been all giggles and averted eyes all evening. He must have been expecting me to dash out of this bedroom in tears at any moment. That, in fact, is where I've been emotional all evening. Not brave enough to make things happen and not brave enough to call it off. It took gentle and patient encouragement to get me back to the hotel room, more patience to get me undressed and practical sainthood to persuade me to touch him anywhere.

I reach up and bring my lips to his ears. "I want you," I whisper quietly enough that Brian can't hear. Again, my mouth seems to be reaching conclusions ahead of my brain. That's right, though, isn't it? I want David.

Brian wants me to be ravished by a big black cock. I want the man. This man.

David has been confident and charming all evening. He's well-dressed, tall and in great condition. I'm about to tell myself that the dick is an irrelevance, but then David starts to move inside me, and it most definitely is not.

Even with Brian, when I'm flat on my back, it's easy to feel controlled, dominated. My husband is an average-sized man, and I'm an average-to-small-sized woman. David is well above average in nearly everything and has a heightened sense of control that is overwhelming. He knows what he's doing. He's not worried. There's no dichotomy between his pleasure and my pleasure, as there so often is with my husband. We're both enjoying the natural movements of each other.

I'm very aware that I'm louder that I am normally. That cock is doing things to me that Brian's simply doesn't and I can't help but react to it -- moans and sighs and gasps. Every so often, David will say something like "You like that, don't you?" or "It feels good, doesn't it?" and I'll struggle to vocalize my agreement.

Before long, I'm riding a wave. There's a heat running all the way through my body and an insistent throbbing pleasure in my loins. It's heavenly. I find I'm in no hurry to come. With Brian, even if he does cunnilingus or gets the toys out, there's always that struggle to finally reach orgasm in a reasonable time. Here, I couldn't care less. There feels like an inevitability to everything that is happening.

Yet, the first one surprises me. It comes in miniature. It's no more than a single shudder of my body and one contraction around his cock. He recognises it for what it is. He smiles as I bite my lip, but does not break his rhythm.

"Good girl," he tells me. "You like that big black dick?"

And suddenly there we are! I'm still flushed from my orgasm, so he probably doesn't see my cheeks burning further from shame. We've just run slap bang into the elephant in the room. We haven't talked about race -- not Brian and I, and definitely not David, Brian and I. Our ad didn't mention skin colour, and his replies, while assuring us that he could supply what we needed, didn't go there either.

Maybe it's obvious. Brian wears his kinks on his sleeve. When we've watched porn together, he's gravitated towards interracial. When we've discussed 'bulls' -- God, I hate that word -- we've considered white ones, but the handful we ended up replying to were all black. Neither of us has ever noted this fact during our deliberations.

There are a hundred reasons you could suggest for this, many of them unpleasant and very few of them entirely wrong. None of which are better being brought out to the light.

I can tell you, at this particular moment, I don't give a damn about the colour of his skin. He's so fucking hot.

Fuck...

"Yeah, you like that big black dick?" It's only when he says it again that I realise that it's not just mindless dirty talk; he seems to actually want an answer from me.

"You are so fucking hot," I tell him. Then I'm not sure he's going to get it. "You," I repeat between thrusts. "You are so fucking hot."

"I know," he tells me. "All the white and Asian girls go crazy for me."

I hate that. I hate it how it takes away from how much I love what's happening to my body. Even as I'm trying to think of a way to respond, my next orgasm hits me. This one is mainly a leg shaker. My left one twitches and raises as my body throws itself back into the mattress. "Oh, fucking God," I find myself screaming.

"See!" David says with a cocky grin.

It's true. I am going crazy for him. The problem is, maybe not in the way he expects. I'm awash with endorphins and dopamine and who knows what else, but the way my heart is racing, there's something else there.

So help me, I think I'm falling in love with him!

For just a second, I fantasise that when our lovemaking is finished, as he gets dressed, he just casually asks me to go with him and I agree instantly. I walk out of my marital home without looking back and spend the rest of my life with him. Just like that.

I wouldn't, of course. He wouldn't either, more to the point. It's just a crazy thought that flashes across my mind while I'm being fucked by this stranger.

Then another flash hits me. I want out of this marriage. I'm not getting out, not any time soon, but I want out. I do.

And maybe it's those endorphins again, but I don't feel guilty about either flash.

If anything, I feel annoyed. I haven't thought about Brian for whole minutes. Now I'm reminded ot of his inadequacies, and not just the ones he's trying pathetically to make up with tonight's 'date.' He's there, somewhere, out of sight. Pleasuring himself, presumably. There was a point in the build-up to all this when I was doing this more for him than for me. That moment has long gone.

Again, my mouth does the thinking for me. "Take it off," I tell David.

It takes him a moment, long enough that I have to confirm my meaning. "Take the condom off," I repeat.

When he turns his head to look towards my husband, I reach a hand up and guide his gaze back to me. "I said, fuck me without."

He pulls out and, in the only awkward moment since we started, it takes him a long time to get the prophylactic off and into the bin. I'm left staring at that ridiculous cock of his again and marvelling that it was inside me just a moment ago. It also gives me pause to reflect on what a bad idea this is, which it totally is. But I'm doing it anyway.

When he firmly pushes his dick back into me, I moan, "Oh, darling, make me yours." Is that too much? Will Brian pick up on that? He's probably too caught up in the fact I've just let 'gone raw' with his 'my bbc,' to notice the pleading in my voice. He probably thinks I'm doing it for him. That's not it. I want to be as close to David as possible. I want it to be as good as it can possibly be for him. I want him to come back again.

Because what the fuck else do I have in my life these days?

Does it feel different without? Well, they say that ninety per cent of sex is psychological, so the answer is 'fuck yes.' I'm so turned on that I want this man's cum inside me. I'm on other birth control, so it's not like I'm actually getting pregnant. But I want to feel owned.

"That feelsso good," he tells me.

I look up into his eyes and nod. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, so fucking good."

"Then fuck me harder," I tell him.

That was just dirty talk, but to my surprise, he does. He turns rough and his thrusts stab at me. I discover I'm a masochist for his cock. At my hole, our juices are mingled into a frothing white foam, his dick covered in my desire for him. I take his big hands and put them around my neck. I want to feel his strength. After a few seconds, I start to feel the squeeze everywhere -- the sensation in my pussy, already a mixture of pain and pleasure, becomes sharper, more defined.

Choking me also has an immediate effect on David. His smile becomes just slightly wicked, and I can see he's lost in the act of fucking me. He's taking me as he wants, fast and hard, and he's clearly in heaven. I love how much he is getting off being inside me. I feel sexy in a way I haven't in years. I lock eyes with him and encourage him with an unending series of moans -- I'm all 'fuck yeahs' and 'fuck me' until I start to feel his thrusts becoming even more intense, and I can tell his orgasm is mounting.

"Cum inside me," I tell him.

"You want it?" he asks. "You want my cum?"

"Yes, baby," I scream. "Fill my womb with your seed."

"Oh, yes, oh, yes," he agrees, then reassures me. "I'm cumming. I'm going to cum."

He throws his head back, but I reach up and tilt it back down. I want him looking at me when he lets go.

Instead, he kisses me hard, ramming his tongue down my throat at the same time as his cock explodes inside me. His hips buck as he squirts, and one thrust particularly hits deeply. I try to scream from the sheer shock of it, and then I'm riding the wave of my own, full-bodied orgasm.

After the first few spasms, I feel desperate. It's fading, and I want to hold this moment in my hands. I don't want to be over. It can't be over. Our bodies slow and stop, and, after a moment, he tries to pull out. I won't let him. I fight against this, wrapping my legs back around his torso and pulling him closer to me. A fit of breathless giggles takes me, and he joins in, acknowledging our joint pleasure and the wall we've just knocked down together.

I hear Brian moving around, a whisp of paper being pulled from a packet and then the sounds of it being patted around a body. Poor fool. He only thinks he knows what just happened. He thinks he got everything he wanted. I'm not a natural liar, not good at deception, but this is going to be easy. If he wants to make a couple's account on a certain type of dating website, he can. If he wants me to wear those cute 'hotwife' branded bra and panties, I will, happily. I'll even get one of those little Queen of Spades tattoos if I really have to, and pretend I've bought into to the lifestyle hook, line and sinker. And when he suggests meeting someone else, I'll agree, and we'll look through the profiles together.

And then I'll get an attack of the nerves and tell him that I feel more comfortable with David, just this one time. The more we do and the more Brian will reveal his deepest fantasies. And my answer will always be the same. Yes, with David.

Fantastic as it was, it's not the sex I'm looking forward to. The next time we go through duty-free, I'll suggest picking up some expensive cologne. When his birthday rolls round, whenever that might be, I'll buy him a fancy tie. Then after we're done, I'll make a point of straightening it before he goes.

I crane my neck up and kiss my new lover.

I'm his now, and he's beautiful.

And something to actually look forward to.

I tell my husband that I love big black dick. He has no trouble with that. I wonder how he'd react if I ever told him the complete truth.

Yours,

Sandra,