No, I am not accepting applications for the next penis to violate my wife's eager orifices. No, not even if your man-root is of impressive dimensions, and please do not attach pics to the application you are not to send.
The "sharing" of my wifes really pretty eager body is merely retrospective. For some reason it has bothered me not at all that she came prepared with a skill set finely honed on other men's cocks. I do tell her often that the only problem with vaginal intercourse is that her eager mouth goes wasted.
What got me thinking on this topic was a recent post on Hamlet and Loralie's excellent Blog, Pornotopia. In that post he discusses the frequently repeated refrain that he is so lucky to have such an eager slut for a girlfriend. He discussed the fact that most guys would actually be a bit discomfited if their partners were actually to become the nymphs that they imagine in their kinkiest moments.
I don't actually identify with the interest that cuckolds have in having their wives or girlfriends out fucking other people, but I do kind of understand a little of their motivation. I just like the voyeuristic component to it.
From the time that we met, it was not too long before sexual topics were somewhat shyly, then progressively less so, brought up. I was aware that she of course was not a virgin, as I was pretty sure she hadn't conceived immaculately. She was not surprised, particularly, that I was a virgin. Most people that knew me wouldn't have been.
As she would (usually during some kinky heavy petting) answer various "have you ever?" type questions, it was like little neatly wrapped parcels to open. Kind of plain brown wrapper, nicely folded. Inside as I unwrapped I would find full-color glossy images. Hot.
As I awaited the next installment of my "slut-of-the-week" club serial story, I embellished in my mind. A lot.
I had her blowing the football team in the back of the bus on long road trips. The reality was a bit more tame. She did blow the captain of the team, but it was a bit more private, and she was after all dating him.
Anyway, years ago, she had mentioned in reference to someone else that cultural taboo of a white woman having had any kind of experience with a black man being something that would be a hard thing for a lot of guys to accept in her experience. I didn't press, but sensed there was a story there somewhere.
It didn't actually come out until fairly recently, and I don't recall the context, but the story was much less rich in detail than some others owing in part to the lack of memory on her part of what actually occurred. The details aren't particularly salacious. She was engaged, some reason or another they were fighting most likely over his infidelities, and her manager was in parallel out of sorts with his partner. A few after work drinks and she remembers little other than the horror primarily of finding herself cheating on her fiance more so than the any particular feeling of having crossed a cultural boundary.
So, goes to show you once they have tried black, it is possible to go back. It helps that I have an really enormous........ego.