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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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A slight alteration of facts for privacy reasons - plus covering every detail would take forever.
I could say I made a bad choice; my ex had never been faithful to anyone; in her younger days she had been a bit of a party girl - and I knew already she'd virtually lost count of the amount of guys she'd fucked (200+ I think). For some reason I thought I would be different and that her past was all behind her.
For a year or so we were fine, but after a while things started to go wrong - we stopped having sex, the passion wasn't there and, well, considering her past I should really have expected what happened next.
My suspicions were aroused when I discovered a love bite on her neck and, although she blamed a skin rash, I kinda realised this wasn't the case at all.
She worked at a hospital, mostly on night shifts -- this wasn't your typical hospital though, it was a secure lockdown unit for mentally unstable criminals in South London, which meant a lot of security guards; mostly black African.
=== Discovery ===
One night while on a shift, I realised she'd left herself logged into Facebook - the mark on her neck had aroused my suspicions, and I couldn't resist checking it out. Much to my dismay I checked her messages and found out she had been fucking "a much older black man with a dirty mind, a fit body and a massive cock". (Her words to a friend).
I couldn’t sleep, I felt sick, I felt anxious and my head was spinning out of control. I got in my car and drove to the hospital where she worked, angry, jealous with a head full of turmoil. For several hours I waited for her at the door until her time to finish work.
She was a cheat, and I needed to put my foot down!
"You fucking whore" I shouted as she walked towards my car, "You utter fucking slut" . I basically lost my shit, started kicking things around the street, and well I made a scene. People were opening their windows and staring at me making a fuss about the morning commotion.
It was all a bit of a blur really. I remember telling her what I knew, and I remember her looking shocked at my discovery -- but she seemed so unapologetic and after a few minutes her shock turned into a smirk.
"It serves you right for never fucking me and it serves you right for looking at my Facebook!"
I stepped back, trying to come to my senses, only to notice that she was calling security and, before I knew it, four well built black guards came to her assistance.
They stood on each side of her and ordered me to leave.
“Oh, and by the way I’m fucking all these too and they've all got massive cocks!”
They looked at her surprised, and then back at me and nodded. At first I thought it was her defensiveness talking, but they too were smirking and well, I knew that if I carried on ranting I'd have been flattened on the spot.
“I’m fucking done with you” I shouted as I got in my car and drove off!
I had no contact with her for the rest of that week - I was exhausted from staying up all night, and all kinds of things were racing around my head. This was the end right? She cheated right?
I made the decision to move her out of my life and her stuff out of my flat -- she actually lived in the nurses' quarters at her work, but because she stayed at mine there was a whole heap of her belongings to move. I called to make arrangements and she was like "Tell me when you want to come and I'll make sure I'm in".
=== The Visit ===
She spoke like I was the bad one, but I was confused as I'd done nothing wrong -- she was the cheat right? She was the one who should be apologising?
The first visit was angry as expected. She opened her door in her dressing gown and barked "just leave them in the hallway" as she vanished into her room. I could hear noises and knew she had company.
"Actually bring them in here!"
I picked up the bags again and walked into her bedroom.
FUCK! There was a black man naked on her bed - not one of the security guards but still muscular; older and with the biggest cock I had ever seen. She was holding it like she wanted me to see - but it was so big I could hardly miss it!
"See this? Well this is what I'd been missing out on while I was going out with you!"
The owner of the cock said nothing as she leant over and licked the end.
"Now, leave my bags here and fuck off!" she said laughing. She took another slurp of the tip and giggled. She clearly knew that I'd be no match for this muscle bound giant and felt powerful enough to do what she liked.
I backed out as quickly as I could, sheepishly remembering that I'd forgotten some stuff and still had another journey to make. I was in turmoil, trying not to sexualise what I had just seen! Fuck!
A week later she called me to ask for the rest of her stuff -- a few bits I'd missed. At first I was like "fuck you", but I didn't want her belongings and agreed to drop some final boxes around to her. I nervously expected more of the same and I was mostly correct.
So, the same but different - this time a different black guy answered the door to me in just a small white towel; I could see from the bulge that he too had a massive cock. This was one of the security guards, and ironically he was quite friendly "At least he's not so threatening" I thought to myself as he took a box from me.
"Come through", he beckoned - my ex was on the bed smiling and not so angry now. I put the other box down in the corner, and waited in anticipation.
"Haha, you're waiting to see if I suck his cock aren't you?" She said, laughing.
"No" I said, only partially lying because I didn't know what I was hoping for, but also realising that something had sparked my intrigue.
"Well you're too late as we've been fucking all day" She laughed again, like she knew she was getting away with murder.
I left hurriedly, more embarrassed than anything, feeling somewhat relieved that I wouldn't have to see her again.
== Pursuit of intrigue ==
A few months passed and the anger diluted. I missed the good times we had and found myself stalking her social media pages -- in spite of my hurt pride I allowed curiosity to get the better of me and I sent her an email.
She replied and I confessed that I'd been thinking of her and everything that happened. She said that she also missed me, but informed me that she was now really into black guys and that if I wanted to see her I'd need to accept that she was in a different place, and not lose my shit like I did in the street.
I questioned her more and discovered that in the months since we broke up she'd had sex with no fewer than twelve new black men, on top of the security guys - so 17 men in less than 4 months, often more than one at a time!
Why was this turning me on?
Should I confess it?
My mind was working overtime with visuals. I nervously sent another email and asked her to meet me...
=== Aftermath ===
I met up with her a few times after this; we never fucked again, but I got to eat her pussy on several occasions.
She took great delight in talking about the different guys she'd been fucking, revealing information about their cock measurements and how her mouth and pussy were constantly sore.
She showed me pictures and a couple of video clips, and while I crossed paths with a couple of the guys, I never got to see her fucking them in the flesh. We fetishised it all and whenever I ate her pussy she would revel in telling me how her numbers were increasing - it was like cock after cock after cock, and I believe that over the next two years she fucked at least 40 other guys, probably more and all of them black.
After a couple of years she went on to breed with one of the men, and as such she calmed down and became a lot more responsible.
We lost touch about 6 years ago, but I always regret how badly I handled what could have been an amazing adventure with a total bbc slut.
I have been obsessed with greedy girls ever since :o) |
