Standing in the lobby of the Regency Hotel in a sexy dinner dress with every male head turned my way as my fiancé, and I waited for his friend Harry to join us gave me time for reflection. Every woman likes to be appreciated, fawned over, even dare I say it; Adored. And in that regard I’m no different than any other woman that I know. So when my adoring husband-to-be asked me to spend an evening with him, and an old college friend of his I immediately agreed. And then he dropped the bomb.

“Hold on there baby,” he chuckled, “you may change your mind once I tell you what a ladies man Harry is.”

“Ladies man?”

“Well, pussy hound actually. You see I’ve been telling him over the Internet what a gorgeous piece of ass you are…”

“You what?” I gasped. “Did you send him pictures too, Jim?”

“Not at first, no, but recently, well…”

“What picture?” And I was tapping my right shoe toe with my arms across my chest.

“Well actually, more than just one. I couldn’t help it Chrissie, I’m just so damn proud of you…”

“You’d better show me.” I insisted.

The pictures he’d shown his friend weren’t really all that bad. In fact they were very flattering, even if a little on the bawdy side. Nothing naked mind you, a few shots of me on the beach in my thong bikini, and a couple with me getting ready for a night out on the town with Jim. You know the kind, with me in bra, panties, and garter belt with smoky black nylons, that sort of thing.

“You better hope these pictures don’t go out all over the net,” but I giggled saying that.

“Why not? You look great!”

“Yeah, my mom, and dad think so too. But just out of curiosity what did your friend Harry think of them?”

“He said he jerked off all over several copies that he’d made of them. Which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“He wants to fuck you.” And the tone in Jim’s voice said he was all for it.

The entire world stopped turning right then. Birds stopped, frozen in flight, and the coffee cup in my hand suddenly weighed a ton. I just couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. My own fiancé, the man I was about to marry for life, had just asked me if I wanted to fuck his friend. Or had he?

“From your tone of voice it sounds to me like you want him to fuck me.” I replied, just barely managing not to drop my cup of coffee as the world started to turn once again.

“Well, it’s just that after you told me about how hot you use to get with your black boy friend…”

“Harry’s Black?” I instantly perked up.

“Oh, I thought I told you that.”

“No, you left that part out,” I said dryly, “and if I’d have known you were going to go crazy about it, I’d have never told you about Pete in the first place.” Truth was, though Pete had become my boyfriend, we had never gotten around to having sex. His unit got called up, and Pete died in a far off country.

“I get a hard on every time I think about it, baby. And as I remember it, your pussy wet half the bed linen talking about it.”

“So you thought you’d pimp me out?” My voice was starting to rise in volume.

“No, no, nothing like that Chrissie,” he backed right down.

“Then what?”

“We aren’t married yet,” I could actually see his mind working through his facial expressions as he spoke, “and I thought that maybe you would like to meet Harry, and if things click between you two, then I’d be more than willing to share you with him. That’s all.”

“I don’t suppose you have any pictures of him, do you?”

Jim immediately produced a jpeg of his friend Harry that showed a very dark hunk of a man in a business suit. Kinky hair cut close to the scalp, a small well trimmed mustache, and goatee, and if those were muscles bulging under that blue suit I was already hooked.

“You aren’t afraid that I might like him too much?” I inquired, turning away so that he wouldn’t see what I already thought of his idea.

“You love me enough to marry me Chrissie, that’s good enough for me. To me sex and love are two different things. And what I’m talking about here is just sex. With you as the center piece in this little get together.”

“But what would you think of me?” I had to ask.

“I’d think the same thing I thought the day that I proposed to you, and you said yes,” he replied. “That I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Oh I let him go on about it for most of the day before I reluctantly agreed, of course, but I knew then that I was more than willing to give this a try. That is if Harry, and I really clicked when we met. And upon further reflection I too realized what a lucky woman I had become falling in love with such a sharing man like my man Jim. After all, if he was willing to share his fiancé, just think how willing he would be to share his wife once we were married. Not that Jim wasn’t fantastic as a lover himself, he is, and I would have been happy living in monogamy with him for the rest of our lives, but I sure wasn’t going to turn down such a wonderful gift as this.

We made love with reckless abandonment that night. I even let him take me in the ass for the first time as a way of sealing our bargain. No little task as Jim is well hung, but then I wasn’t an anal virgin either, and I loved every second of it. Under the right circumstances all of us woman are sluts, even more so when making love to our soul mates. We can be as vulgar as sailors, and wallow in the mud like pigs when elevated to an orgasmic state of passion. And all that night, and late into the next morning I fucked Jim’s brains out at every turn as we discussed his idea of sharing his white wife with a strange black man in the filthiest of terms.

“Wait until Harry meets my favorite slut,” he said as he ate, and I served brunch both of us naked, “he’ll be envious for life.”

“I haven’t even fucked the man, and already I’ve been lowered to the status of favorite slut?”

“You bet your sweet ass,” and he grabbed a hand full of my naked buttocks to emphasize the point, “you are.”

“I suppose you’ll want me to dress up all slutty for your friend too?”

“That would be nice, but if you only wore a T-shirt I’m sure he’d be impressed as all hell. I know I always am.”

“Oh no, you don’t get off that easily,” and I slapped his hand away playfully, “I’m going to really do myself up for this. And you’re going to help me.”

“How am I going to help?”

“You are going to take me to the beauty parlor to get my hair done, and my legs waxed. You’re going to pick out the clothes that your fiancé slut is going to wear the night she is going to fuck your friend. You are going to shave under my arms, and my pubic thatch around my slit for him, paint my nails for him, and anything else I can come up with for the man you are sharing your future wife with. And do you want to know why you are going to do all of this?”

“Yes,” he squeaked out, and I noticed that he was getting hard all over again.

“Because I want to make sure right up to the very last second that this is what you really want is to become a cuckold. Because if we go through with this, we go through this together.”

His answer was to pull me down so that I was straddling his lap, and his cock slipped gently into my already cum soaked slit. Once again we were riding on the wings of our imaginations as we fucked like minks there in the kitchen. This was by no means love making, just pure uncontrollable sex. And to make things perfect I had Jim eat me out after he pumped his morning load of cum into me this time. Then when he was through I said; “Make the arrangements. If we click, I’ll let the two of you fuck my brains out.”

As it turned out Harry was going to be in a city nearby us on business two weeks later for the entire week. If we could manage to meet him for dinner some time during the week to get acquainted he’d gladly spend the weekend before going home over at our place. I agreed, and proposed that we meet on Wednesday at his hotel lobby for dinner around seven, and had Jim find out which hotel he was going to be staying at. Then once I found out that it was the Regency I called them up, and made our own reservations without telling Jim. Then I called Jim’s secretary, and had her clear his schedule for Thursday, and Friday of that week.

On the Monday that Harry arrived for his week nearby, I had Jim take me out to the mall to shop for what I would wear for our dinner meeting. In the end we both agreed that since this would be a formal dining experience that I should at least be in something fashionable, and not entirely sleazy, undergarments to the contrary, of course. So when he picked out a simple backless black dress with a relatively short skirt to it, I applauded his choice. I wouldn’t need a bra, and the front above the bosom that strapped around my neck was see-thru nylon, and the hem barely rode up in back when I sat down. From the waist up the dress was snug, but not uncomfortably so, and the skirt fit loosely below the hips for easy walking, and would not show that I was wearing a garter belt to hold up my hosiery. We both also agreed on the black leather ankle strapped high heels, and matching hand purse.

Then we set off for Victoria’s Secret to purchase my undergarments. I had a great deal of fun watching Jim blush, and stutter through our purchases. And the look on his face when the sales clerk held up the see-thru black nylon thong for a price check had more than a few customers chortling at his expense. Which was just what the doctor ordered as far as I was concerned. After all, this was his idea in the first place. And when we returned home Jim nearly raped me before I could put my new things down.

Tuesday Jim took me to get my hair done, and I made him sit there in the parlor watching as my hair stylist fawned over me, and the other ladies gossiped candidly all around him. At every chance I had I made Jim make the choices; what shampoo, how should my hair be cut, what conditioner to use, should I leave my hair its natural reddish blond color, or go for something new? In the end I had a facial, a bikini wax, my hair was washed, and the frizzy ends only were cut away. We left with my hair down to my hips still, but now dazzling, and shimmering down my back like a cascading fiery waterfalls.

Once we got home I had Jim draw me a scented bubble bath. Then while I soaked in the tub I had him give me a pedicure under my strict guidance, and when that was complete I had him shave all of the hair away in my arm pits, and around my slit, then he shaped my orange pubic rug into a small fluffy thick sharp arrowhead pointing at my clit. It made a vulgar display I’ll grant you, but the point was that Jim followed every one of my directions without complaint, or regret, and with the full knowledge that he wasn’t doing this for his own pleasure, but for that of another man. Another man who was in all probability going to have intercourse with his fiancé after seeing her for the very first time. I rinsed off with the shower nozzle, then stepped out of the tub to let Jim dry me off.

“Easy baby,” I reprimanded when he started getting rough with the towel between my legs, “for that you get no sex tonight.”

“What?”

“You want to be primed, and ready for tomorrow, don’t you?” I inquired.

“I thought we were just meeting him for dinner to get acquainted tomorrow Chrissie.”

“We are, but like I said, if we click…”

“I see. And I’ll know that, how?”

“Hmm, that’s a tough one,” I said thinking out loud. “But if you catch me fondling him that would be a sure sign that we’ve clicked, wouldn’t it?”

“Depends on what part of him your fondling, doesn’t it?”

“Exactly.” I replied. “But tonight we get a good night’s sleep. Then while you’re at work tomorrow, I’ll take the day getting the house ready, then freshen up just before you get home. That way you can get me gussied up to meet Harry just before we leave.”

I don’t know about Jim, but I slept like a rock with the most erotic dreams about cocks of every size and color taking me in every hole I owned, and in every position possible, and a few that weren’t possible. The weird thing was, was that none of those cocks in my dreams belonged to Jim as far as I can remember. However the cock I sucked on the drive to the Regency did belong to Jim, and that’s all that really counts.

“He’s on his way down,” Jim informed me after I freshened up my makeup in the hotel’s powder room.

Even if I did have to admit it to myself, my reflection in the mirror of the ladies room was really hot. Jim had outdone himself in getting me ready to meet his friend Harry all right. I looked better than any of the high-class escorts milling about in the lobby waiting with dulled expressions for their dates. And I was undoubtedly much more excited than any of them when I first caught sight of Harry as he exited the elevator.

At 5’5” in my high heels Harry was almost a full head taller than I am, and a couple of inches taller than Jim. And there was no doubt that those were rippling muscles under that crisp navy blue suit now. I almost wet myself when after putting out my hand as Jim introduced us, Harry’s bear claw like hand took mine, and brought it to his lips to kiss gently in the European style of meeting royalty. And the way he held himself, and took my arm in his leading the way out was as regal, and arrogant as a lion king. So swept up was I in Harry’s charm that I forgot all about the man who had brought me to this dance until he gathered up my other arm in his once we got outside.

“So where are we going to eat?” Harry inquired, the sound of his voice like distant rolling thunder.

“J. J. Garlic’s,” I replied as Harry led us to a waiting limousine. “It’s a gourmand restaurant. I made the reservations there for us two weeks ago for tonight.”

“What an excellent choice,” Harry agreed as the limo pulled away with us in it, “and since you took care of the reservations I must insist on paying for the dinner.”

“You think the company will reimburse you for something like this Harry?” Jim asked.

“Most certainly,” Harry chuckled, “seeing as how my father owns the company that I work for after all.”

“That explains a lot,” Jim laughed opening up the bottle of champagne that was sitting in a bucket of ice between us, but next to him. Somehow I had ended up sitting next to Harry instead of next to my fiancé, but I could see that Jim didn’t mind at all. Jim poured three flukes of wine, and passed one to me, then another to Harry before proposing a toast. “To close friends, and hopeful lovers!”

“To close friends, and lovers!” Harry, and I replied together.

Our reservations were set for eight o’clock, so once we arrived Harry told them that we would be in their cocktail lounge waiting for our table. As it turned out there was a three-piece combo playing blue’s tunes in the lounge, and once we ordered our drinks Harry asked me to dance with him. I looked to Jim for his permission, and when he nodded his agreement I followed Harry hand in hand out to the congested dance floor.

We arrived just in time for a slow number, and I eased myself into Harry to follow his lead. As good, and gentle a dancer as he was the granite hard muscles of the man nearly had me melting down as I quivered with rampant excitement in his embrace. So enraptured with his presence was I, and engulfed in the heady aroma of his masculine cologne that I almost missed what he said as I floated around the dance floor with him.

“Jim tells me that you had a black boyfriend before he met you. Is that true?”

“I met him just after I graduated from high school, I replied, and just before he went into the service, and I went off to college. His name was Pete, and my parents hated that I adored him. Oh not so much because he was black really, but that he was going to make the military a career. Their fears were justified, I suppose, when he died on a distant battlefield before we had the opportunity to do any real harm to each other in our relationship. We were going to get married when he came home.”

“So you never had a chance to be intimate with him then?”

“No, not really, unless you count us groping at each other in his car in my parents driveway being intimate. Pete was a complete gentleman in every respect. In fact you remind me a lot of him.” I finished just as that song ended, and another one began.

“Oh? How so?”

“He was almost as tall as you, and worked out every day to the point of exhaustion in preparation for going overseas. And when I danced with him he too pressed his growing erection against my belly when we danced.”

“Did he hold onto your buttocks like this?”

I swear his hands took hold of my rump as if cradling a mere child then. It was just like Pete use to do when we danced like this, and my right hand instinctively grabbed hold of Harry’s erection through his trousers in a reflexive response as I snuggled into him even more.

“Yes, exactly like that,” I said knowing that we had just clicked.

I’m sure we were no more vulgar in contact than the other dancers swarmed around us. The only difference really was this wasn’t the man who had brought me to the dance. But they didn’t know that, and I didn’t care at that moment as I felt a rivulet of my excitement form along my inner thigh from my moist thong crotch under my gossamer like dress. And I wondered if the scent of ripe pussy that permeated the very air all around us was only coming from me as I felt one of his fingers slide gently along my slit from behind.

“Perhaps we should continue this dance somewhere a little more private,” Harry suggested then.

“If this is only the beginning of foreplay, then I’m in real trouble,” I countered as I followed him off the dance floor on the opposite side from where Jim was waiting.

In no time at all I found myself pressed up against a stall in the men’s room with half a foot of extremely thick, and very black cock in my white cunt with my thong pulled to the side as the other half tried to split me in two trying to get in me. Harry hadn’t even bothered to lower his trousers, just unzipped as I hopped up, and wrapped my legs around his torso, and my arms around his neck. We were just too excited to wait for the civilities, and it was the men’s room after all, and I was already climaxing just having his cock inside of me.