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The Barn

Another great wife turned slut story.


The following is the story about my wife's third encounter with her black lover, who was cheating on his live-in, white girlfriend. The names have been changed to protect the guilty...

The Barn

Wanton. That's how she wanted to feel as she pulled her Escort into its parking place. But not really. Inside she felt a sense of sorrow. Emptiness. Why was she here? Why did she feel this compulsion to be with him? She new it was wrong, but inside, she wanted... what she didn't really know, but she was here. Her heart was thudding-both from fear and from anticipation. Chris would be here still, even though the Village was closed. Working on the old farm equipment. At least no one else would know what she was doing, what she was hiding from her husband.

With a sigh, she got out of her car and walked past the guard shack. The summer heat was shimmering off the black top and felt good as it flowed through her sandals. The warm breeze teased her nipples through the soft terry cloth of her top. Warmth... maybe she did feel wanton, after all...

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There he was, in the shade of the barn, as she rounded the corner. The dark skin of his chest was glistening from the sweat of his labors. She paused for a moment just looking at him, already feeling beginnings of warmth of arousal. Silently, she made her way to the fence and stood there, one foot resting on the lower rail of the fence, subconsciously opening her legs to him.

"What ya' doin' big fella'?" she asked, in what she hoped was a playful, sultry voice.

He started and looked at her for a moment, silently, and jerking his head toward the barn, answered "Hi, Gin, we're just trying to get this old thing working."

"Well hello there young lady," barked old Jake as he came out of the barn.

She felt her face turn crimson and forced herself to make small talk with them as they worked. Jake would look at her from time to time, almost sadly, she thought. Oh, I hope he doesn't really know why I'm here, she thought to herself. Yet it was becoming more and more obvious that Jake was feeling awkward. Soon he stood up and stretched. "My, look at the time," he said, "I'll wager the missus has just about given up on me... Looks like we'll have to finish tomorrow. I'll see you kids later." And with that he left.

They stood there for a moment silently looking at each other, feeling a bit awkward, watching Jake disappear around the corner. It was several moments before they moved or spoke. Yet even as Jake rounded the corner, she felt stirrings and smiled at Chris. "Want to go play in the hay?" she asked mischievously. "Sure, why not," he answered. With that she broke into a run for the door-he followed. He grabbed her from behind and pulled her to him, gently squeezing her breasts through fabric of her top. The warmth of his body against her back and his hands on her breasts felt so good. She could feel the beginnings of his arousal against her. Playfully, she broke free as he started to nuzzle and kiss her neck and ran to the ladder to the hayloft. She felt his hands on her hips as she climbed the ladder. Breathlessly, she waited until he climbed through the floor and threw a handful of hay at him then ran. He chased her and caught her and spun her around, kissing her full on the hips. She responded, pressing herself against him, exploring his back with her hands. His hands roamed her back and kneaded her hips. Slowly her hands made their way down his back to his hips, pulling him tight against her.

He pulled away from her. "Where do you want this to go?" he asked.

"Where to you think?" she answered, her heart pounding.

As Chris picked her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her to the bails of hay. She kissed him hard on the mouth as he sat her down on the stacked bails. Urgently, her hands sought his belt and unfastened it, then the button to his pants. Slowly she unzipped his pants as his hands slipped up under her top and gently kneaded her breasts. He wiggled his hips as she worked his pants down around his hips then kicked them aside and stood before her completely naked. Gently she placed her hands on his erect penis-the warmth of it felt so arousing in her hands as she softly stroked him. And the contrast between the darkness of his penis and the lightness of her hands was so erotic to her... Slowly she bent over to him and gently kissed the head of his penis, then slowly licked it until it glistened. She reveled in the salty, sweaty taste of him and his musky scent as she carefully took him in her mouth. He groaned with pleasure as she worked her mouth up and down on him and gently stroked her hair. After some time, he pulled her off him and lay her back on the hay and knelt before her. Urgently, he pulled her shorts and panties off and began licking her wetness. She moaned and writhed as he found her clit, nearly climaxing. Sensing she was close, he stood before her. As he had planned, the hay bails placed her at just the right height... He grasped his penis and slowly worked it up and down her slit, teasing her. "Please, I want you now," she moaned, writhing against him. Slowly he pushed, and she felt the head of his penis push past her labia and slide inside. She groaned a deep guttural groan, urging him on. Slowly he pushed until he was all of the way inside her, stretching her, filling her. As he slowly worked his way inside and out of her, he gently fingered her clit. Watching him touch her and his dark flesh sliding in and out of her, glistening in the dim light, nearly made her climax.

Yet, in spite of the eroticism of the moment the thought that she was betraying a trust suddenly thrust itself into her mind, damping her arousal.

Detached, she watched him fuck her, not wanting to be in the moment, nearly crying from sadness. And then the anger took over. If her husband had treated her the way she wanted-loving and understanding, as if she were as important as his career-she wouldn't be here. With that she thrust back to meet his thrusts; sitting up she grasped his hips, pulling him deeper into her. She felt the pricks of the hay against her calves as she thrust against him, not feeling the pain. Soon she felt him start to tense... not now, she thought, I'm so close... Yet his hips tensed in her hands and he drove himself deep inside her. She felt him pulse as he pumped his semen deep into her. Yet she could not climax with him-the firestorm of emotions insider her prevented that... Tightly she held him, a tear sliding down her cheek, mixing and loosing itself in the sweat of her exertions, as he calmed and softened insider her.

Silently, they gathered their clothes and dressed and slowly made their way down the ladder.

"I've got some more work to do here," he said, quietly.

"I know," she answered, just as quietly. She slowly walked back to her Escort and climbed inside. And sat there. The pain of the scratches on her calves slowly intruded into her thoughts. How was she going to explain how she got those?

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