The story of Charles and the young woman

"Hi, honey, I'm home."
This is my standard, completely unnecessary greeting every day after work. My wife knows who's home and where they've come from. I'm a very trustworthy, very family-oriented, reliable husband—steadfast, dependable, but boring.
"I'm here."
Again, this is my traditional, steady wife's unchanging reply. We've been married for 16 years, and it's been this greeting and response almost every day.
Walking through the dark living room towards the kitchen from which the response came, I took off my jacket and threw it on the sofa, then loosened my tie, which was practically strangling me, and threw that too.
"Ah, it smells so good."
I said, hugging my wife, stroking her bottom, and kissing her neck. "What are we having for dinner tonight?"
"A modern English dinner, your favorite."
"Great! Any good news today?"
"Yes, Charles called this afternoon and said he's going to stay in town for a few days."
I was instantly excited. This Charles has completely changed our lives!
"Well…"
I only got halfway through my sentence.
"He'll be home around 6 o'clock."
"Oh, what about the kids?" "
Katie and her classmates have a party at the Pleasure Club, they'll be back around 10 pm. Chrisee went to the movies with her friends."
Katie is our 13-year-old daughter, a beautiful little queen, who really wants to be on the school cheerleading team. But she's also a sentimental girl, almost spoiled by us. Chrisee is our second daughter, 12 years old, a very bookish child, and Daddy's good daughter.
"Oh, that's great, now we can have two or three hours of quiet time to play our own games. Are you excited?"
When my hand touched her crotch, I knew I had asked a stupid question; her crotch was already very wet.
"Yes, I've been waiting for almost two weeks,"
my wife replied.
At this point, you might be completely confused, so let me explain the changes in our family life.
About seven years ago, one evening, my wife Jane and I lay in bed discussing our sexual fantasies, hoping to add a little passion to our increasingly dull sex life. We cautiously began our exploration and experimentation.
At first, we played a kind of "role-playing" game during sex, where we would both close our eyes and imagine ourselves and each other as another sexual partner, then compare who we imagined to be more aroused and who we imagined to be less aroused. During these discussions, we would come up with some truly surprising names.
Later, I brought home some pornographic films for my wife to watch together. She would deliberately wear sexy, revealing lingerie ordered online while watching these films, and she would lay soft silk sheets on the bed and light scented candles. I discovered that she was a powerful engine for igniting our passion, very adept at setting the mood for sex.
"How about we take some pictures of us having sex?"
I asked my wife.
"Yes, that's a great idea,"
my wife replied happily.
I thought that such things would happen between husband and wife sooner or later, as long as our marriage continued.
I frequently browsed pornographic websites and found myself particularly interested in content about Black men sharing their wives. I downloaded numerous stories and videos of Black men raping white wives, which my wife, Jane, and I watched together. I was surprised to find that she was also interested in such content.
It was quite remarkable that husband and wife shared such similar interests and hobbies.
Things progressed slowly, and it took several months for our thoughts to truly align.
Whenever we had the time and opportunity, we would passionately discuss this issue together. We were eager to try this lifestyle, and I even spent $50 online to order a very large dildo, based on the size of the Black penises I saw in the videos.
It was far too big for Jane; she found it uncomfortable to use, but it sparked a great interest in Black men in her. She kept the dildo in her bedside table drawer.
About three years ago, our discussions went through several stages: "Oh God, I really want to have sex with a Black man...", then "We can't do that, what will people think?", then "Okay, as long as we're careful, no one should know...", and finally "What do we want from this? How do we get started?". We
eventually began seriously exploring the possibility of including a Black man in our sex life. For a month
, we discussed this very exciting topic, making love more than twice a day, because we were both incredibly excited just imagining our upcoming adventure.
Later, we decided to post a dating ad online, which read: "A married white couple around 35 years old are looking for a sexually potent Black man for a long-term, stable sexual relationship. Applicants must be healthy, strong, the same age as us or slightly older, tall, of pure Black descent, and preferably have a large penis. We are new to this and lack experience; we can pay a fee to those who apply and meet the requirements. We will not respond to applicants from outside our area or those without photos. Nude photos attached to your email are a plus, but not mandatory."
Along with the ad, we also attached four photos of my wife, Jane, exposing different parts of her body, and two photos of us as a couple, but our faces were cropped or blurred because we didn't want to cause trouble. The internet brings us many new ideas and perspectives, so we hoped to expand our social circle through it.
That day, when I finished posting the ad and shut down the computer, I found deep marks on my thigh from my wife's fingernails. She was right beside me watching me write, post, and upload ads and photos. She must have felt incredibly lost, excited, and overwhelmed. We understand that the path we've chosen will completely change our lives, but we haven't yet realized how incredibly exciting and thrilling it will be. I was so excited while posting the ads that I didn't even notice the pain of my wife's fingernails digging into my skin.
That weekend, we took the kids out for two days, and didn't have time to check our emails until Monday. After dinner and settling the kids in, we went online to check for feedback on our ads. By the time we finished reading all the emails, it was 2 a.m.
There were hundreds of applicants from all over the world. Their replies were incredibly audacious, but some were too far away, some too young, some too simplistic, and some white people even said they wanted to be spectators when my wife and I had sex with a black man. Half of the replies included photos of their enormous black penises.
We selected 50 people who basically met the criteria from the hundreds of applicants, kept their information, and then went to bed. We were both too exhausted to make love, yet too excited to fall asleep. We finally drifted off, only to wake up very early the next morning. We rushed out of bed, dropped the kids off at kindergarten, and then went to work.
This week, we replied to over a dozen suitors, some of whom lived within a hundred miles of us, others frequently traveling to our area for work. Jane liked one of the guys, a boy around ten years old, so I had her write a reply for him. She sat naked in front of the computer, a towel under her bottom, seemingly lost in the pleasure of her affair.
In our replies, we all attached a very lewd photo of Jane naked, only her face was covered. Oh, right, I should introduce my wife, Jane. She's a very beautiful and sexy woman, of medium height, with a curvaceous figure, a cheerful and outgoing personality, blonde hair, blue eyes, large breasts and a full bottom, and her neatly trimmed pubic hair is incredibly alluring.
Over the next few days, we planned to meet eight suitors at a bar, the fourth of whom would be Charles.
Meeting the suitors was quite interesting; we would usually start by having a drink together, then leave the suitor to discuss with my wife whether to continue the relationship. The first suitor was a very attractive gentleman, and we decided to keep in touch with him; the second suitor didn't make a good impression on my wife, so we left while he went to the restroom; the third suitor didn't show up at the appointed time. Then, we met Charles.
As agreed, we had a drink together. Charles was a cheerful man, of pure Black descent, with skin as black as coal, without a single other component. He spoke with a slight British accent.
As he got up to go to the restroom, Jane said, "He's the one."
"Are you sure?"
I asked.
"Eighty or ninety percent."
"Then you're doomed, didn't you see how huge that guy is?"
We ordered a second drink and continued chatting with Charles. Jane was as excited as a high school student who had finally gotten a high score on a test; her excitement made me feel a little embarrassed. Every word Charles said made her giggle nonstop, and I even wondered if she understood what he was saying.
During the conversation, Jane stared intently into Charles's eyes, holding his hand, her nails digging lightly into his palm, as if handing him the key to her inner world.
Charles took out his credit card, called the waitress, and paid the bill. "Let's go for a walk,"
he said politely, turning to me. Then, he stood up, gentlemanly pulling out a chair for Jane and helping her to her feet. From that moment on, Charles took control of the situation, and Jane and I both felt we needed a strong person to push us forward and help us begin this very special journey. Charles was the perfect candidate, and besides, we still had much to learn and understand.
Leaving the bar and arriving at the parking lot, Charles led us to his Lincoln Navigator and tossed me the keys. Oh, a tall, muscular Black man driving a large, spacious black car—it looked so cool!
"You drive,"
Charles said to me.
“No problem. Where are we going?”
I asked, watching Charles stroke my wife Jane’s back and help her into the back seat.
“Let’s find a more secluded place,”
Charles said, sitting down next to my wife. Then he pulled Jane to his side and pressed her down onto his lap. His hands caressed her body, pulling her skirt up to her waist, revealing Jane’s full buttocks.
I didn’t ask him anything more and drove to the parking lot of a motel not far from the bar.
I turned off the engine and looked back at Charles and my wife; they were passionately making love, Jane moaning under his caresses and kisses.
For the first time in my life, I felt so lost. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know where to look. My throat tightened, my head spun, and I wondered if I should get out and go for a walk. I knew I hadn’t been treated unfairly in this, but I hadn’t expected things to turn out so out of my control. I saw that black hand, as large as a bear's paw, reach inside my wife's skirt, and Jane's moans grew increasingly rapid.
I heard Jane murmur, "No...no...please don't do this. Not tonight, I'm not ready..."
With a slap, the large black hand struck my wife's pale buttocks hard, then without a word, he ripped off Jane's white lace panties and threw them onto the car's dashboard. Oh, it seemed Charles wanted to give me Jane's panties. I reached for the sexy panties, my palm feeling warm and damp.
Jane seemed to say something, but I didn't hear clearly; her words were cut off by Charles's thick lips.
"I don't use that stuff, I never use it during sex,"
Charles said in a muffled voice.
"Please, really, not tonight,"
Jane pleaded.
"I won't hurt you, my little Jenny, I promise you, please believe me."
"What do you want?"
Jane murmured, seemingly on the verge of tears.
Seemingly trained, Jane crouched between his legs, her face and hair being caressed by two enormous black hands, gleaming in the dim light. Charles was dressed in black trousers, black underwear, everything black, making Jane's upper body appear to float in mid-air.
His enormous member was exposed. Jane didn't know if she was doing it herself or him, but the thing was poking and prodding her face and mouth. Although I couldn't see clearly, I knew what they were doing.
Charles groaned loudly, his large black hands holding Jane's head, pulling most of her face out of my sight. She gagged, repeatedly. I was both excited and nervous, terrified that Charles would harm my wife. I couldn't help her, nor could I stop what was happening, and I didn't want to.
I watched her struggle, trying to break free from his grasp, but Charles remained relentlessly controlling her. After a short while, perhaps realizing that Jane couldn't endure his violent actions, Charles finally released her. Jane cried, coughing and gasping for breath.
"I can't take it anymore, please, don't do it anymore, it's too painful, I don't want to do this anymore,"
Jane pleaded, genuinely believing Charles wanted to suffocate her.
When Charles pulled her up from the ground and placed her on his lap, Jane offered no resistance. Now she felt she would do anything as long as she wasn't forced to suck his thick penis again.
"Put it in,"
Charles commanded Jane loudly, ordering her to put the penis that had just ravaged her mouth inside her.
I was startled by Charles's command, but I could only watch helplessly as it unfolded.
Jane's cotton dress was pulled down, her knees straddling Charles's broad hips. His penis pressed against her buttocks from behind, unable to penetrate her immediately.
"Oh God. No, no, please, not tonight. I can't do this,"
Jane sobbed.
I didn't know what to do, I didn't know why I had entered into this life.
I understood why Jane was resisting so fiercely; she hadn't taken any precautions tonight. I'd already had a vasectomy, so she didn't need to take birth control pills. Before my surgery, we used diaphragms for contraception. We still had some left in the bedside table in our bedroom.
I had a very bad feeling.
"Get back on the floor,"
Charles commanded again. It seemed he wouldn't let Jane go until he was satisfied.
Jane was about to be deflowered by a strange man, and what could be more insane than being penetrated by such a huge thing! Watching her sit on his lower body with her buttocks raised, I decided to help them complete this great feat.
Charles's penis was the only man's penis I'd ever touched besides my own—very big, very hard, and very hot. My heart pounded as I gripped this thick penis, firmly aiming it at my wife's vaginal opening; her juices immediately soaked my hand.
Oh, finally in! My wife was filled with a black penis that hadn't used any contraception!
I pulled my hand away from their pressed bodies and watched Charles pull her down, thrusting the last two inches of his penis fully into my wife's vagina. Then, they both paused quietly. Charles had Jane adjust her position, then pulled her to his chest and kissed her lips tightly.
Jane's sobs gradually subsided and finally stopped. I could tell she no longer wanted to struggle with Charles. From that moment on, my wife was no longer the same woman; she was completely relaxed from the tension.
I felt terrible for her; I couldn't make her feel any better about what had happened. We had never imagined things would turn out this way. I gently stroked my wife's back; she was nestled in Charles's arms, seemingly asleep.
Charles placed his hand on mine, smiled at me in the darkness, and said, "She's all right now, Wayne. She's home."
Strangely, I understood exactly what he meant; this extreme relaxation almost made me faint.
Jane turned her face and gave me a weak smile. Her eyes were on me, her head resting on Charles's shoulder.
"I'm fine, darling. He feels good inside me,"
she murmured.
My hand stroked down my wife's back, feeling the muscles in her buttocks tighten and relax alternately. She wasn't moving her body up and down to manipulate the penis inside her, but rather using the muscles of her vagina to clench and release the large, invading rod.
Charles placed one hand on my arm and the other on my wife's buttocks. Jane later told me that it was his hand on her buttocks that controlled the speed of the muscles inside her.
Their intercourse seemed silent and understated, yet it was full of passion and desire. They were surprised to find that the other was the partner they so loved, and under each other's stimulation, they could no longer hold back. Soon, Jane screamed and reached her climax. A few minutes later, Charles excitedly stretched his legs onto the front seat, leaned back against the seat, and thrust upwards, ejaculating deep into my wife's vagina. Jane reached her climax again.
After a few minutes of silence in the car, heavy breathing and tender kisses filled the air.
"I'm so sorry, I'm really bad at sucking penises,"
Jane said breathlessly. "Your penis is too big for me."
"It's okay, you'll learn slowly, my little girl,"
Charles said confidently. "We can practice."
Soon after, Charles drove us back to the parking lot where we had parked.
I helped my wife lift her legs and find her shoe on the floor. As Charles led her towards our car, I tried to regain my composure. From the moment we arrived until now, I felt like I was in a daze. It wasn't just Charles and Jane enjoying that special sexual experience.
After Jane got into our car, Charles gestured for me to come with him to his car.
"After you put her in bed, send me your address. I plan to send her some things tomorrow. Also, I need your phone number so I can contact her anytime,"
he said firmly, knowing I would obey.
"And her clothes and shoes sizes, oh, and her birthday. If I want to continue this relationship, I need to know a lot about her."
Charles got into the car, rolled down the window, and said to me, "I don't want her with any other men, just you, Wayne, and me, understand?"
Back home, Jane and I immediately went to bed, both incredibly excited by what we had just experienced.
Jane's vulva was wet and swollen from Charles's ministrations, and I, like the husbands in those pornographic stories whose wives had been raped, was desperately eager to see Jane's vulva, which Charles had just played with.
We didn't even bother to take off our clothes; I just unzipped my pants and pulled them down to my knees, while Jane lifted the hem of her skirt, pulled her clothes up to her waist, and pulled me between her legs. On her vulva, the sticky semen covering her labia had turned cool and clung to my lower abdomen.
I lifted my body slightly and inserted my hard penis into her vagina, immediately feeling a viscous liquid flow down my shaft and onto my scrotum. Moreover, with each thrust, I felt my scrotum being covered by more and more liquid. I knew it was the semen Charles had just ejaculated inside me being expelled. Jane had
already had several orgasms under Charles's rape, and I had also ejaculated into my pants while watching them make love, so we weren't in a hurry to reach orgasm now, but rather wanted to enjoy the pleasure of thrusting for as long as possible, enjoying the lubricating effect of Charles's semen.
My wife and I chatted intimately while fucking, the semen residue from our new friend making our thrusting smooth and stimulating, whispering words of affection in each other's ears.
It was the first time I had thrust into my wife's vagina, which was wet with another man's semen, and I felt incredibly good, feeling the viscous semen flowing on my glans and shaft, a tingling, pleasurable sensation washing over me. Then, Jane whispered in my ear, "Honey, Charles might have gotten me pregnant tonight."
I didn't say anything and continued thrusting vigorously.
We fell asleep like that, and when we woke up the next morning, we were still tightly pressed together.
That's how we met Charles. He's our Charles.
The next morning, Jane went to the community clinic and took some emergency contraception. Although having a Black child was a crazy idea we both shared, we thought it best to be cautious about something so far ahead. What
if some ethics committee member saw her and her Black child one day and thought she'd been raped? That would be troublesome. Later, Jane had an IUD inserted.
I made up some lame excuses to get rid of the other online friends who were waiting to meet us that day. Jane also felt that we didn't need to look for anyone else; Charles was the one we needed, and we decided not to look for anyone else.

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The story of Charles and the young woman

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