Annabelle’s Tits

1.

My wife loves showing off her tits. It's a compulsion she cannot resist. In the morning after breakfast, she gets online on our desktop computer to see if any of her wannabe lovers is up. I don't know how many they are; I have long stopped counting ever since we entered our second month of compulsory quarantine.

Annabelle has a massive pair of knockers — 38DD — and years ago when we got married, even while we were dating, I never could resist wanting to play with them. I loved so much to squeeze her nipples — her nipples the size of pencil erasers — with my thumb and finger while I circled my tongue around her areolas. She would then push me onto my back and cradle her tits in each hand and slap my face with them. It felt exhilarating when she rubbed her tits against my eyes. Even when she got to riding me, she never stopped being cheeky.

How she became obsessed with her tits confounds me. But I'm unsurprised that she's grown herself an audience out there that loves staring at her tattooed pair of udders.

We are both in our late forties having gone through the dreary rigmarole of life befitting any middle-aged couple — a house, a set of kids now in college, bills and more bills, and a mortgage without end — though we have had our fun when we could. But I'm unafraid to admit that I've long past my sexual prime. These days I appreciate plenty of fun watching young people have sex in videos on PornHub or Xhamster than anything else. Sure, I can still work up an erection. Much of that comes from fantasies involving Annabelle getting fucked by a young stud, preferably a black man, since they're known to pack plenty of girth in their pants.

I introduced Annabelle to the pleasures of online cuckold forums where she could mingle with other horny wives and seek out young men who might adore her. And why shouldn't I? This whole quarantine issue has got us bored out of our minds. Neither of us can venture outside without first making sure we're virus-proof — face masks (CHECK!), surgical gloves (CHECK!), remember to keep a minimum distance from anybody out there (DOUBLE CHECK!) — it's enough to drive you crazy!

What better place to unload your burden than online? Apparently, we aren't the only ones with nothing on hand to do.

Once Annabelle sits in front of the computer, she becomes a different woman. It had taken her less than a week to become adept and addicted to the medium that is online communication through Skype. There are times that I sat and read the comments some of her male followers send to her after she's posted snapshots of her knockers via webcam at the forum site. The majority of them want nothing but to nibble and suck on her tits all day. I can't blame them. Annabelle's tits have grown in size like her ass. It's hard sometimes knowing which is best.

Often she pushes me away once she gets into the groove with her online lovers. There are a few who have caught her fancy recently. One of them is a black man in his thirties called D.Rod. Whether that's his actual name or his online moniker, I cannot tell. The name does, however, qualify with the size of his equipment when he revealed a snapshot to Annabelle.

It was fucking huge!

"Oh my God," Annabelle gasped and pointed at it. "Is that fucking real?"

"Why not get him to come up on live cam," I suggested. "Let him show it to you so we'd know how real he is or not."

Annabelle's fingers tap-danced all over the keyboard. I went into the kitchen to make us some coffee. By the time I returned, D.Rod was smiling and waving at us on his webcam. Annabelle wasted no time getting to what she wanted, and she was all excited when she said it.

"Let me see your cock," she said into the mic. "I want to know if that's really what you sent me."

"You calling me a liar, babe," he smiled.

"No, I'm not. I just want to see to satisfy my curiosity."

"I'll wager you on that. I'll show you mine if you show me yours," D.Rod teased.

Annabelle blushed, but she opted to oblige. She dug out each pair of tits from their hiding place and waved them at the camera for D.Rod's pleasure. She was gay with laughter too, and left her tits to fall, not bothering to return them inside her dress.

"Hope you're happy now," she said.

"Oh yeah. My turn now."

D.Rod stood up. He lifted his web camera with him and aimed it down at his crotch. Annabelle and I leaned closer with breathless anticipation as he pushed down the hem of his shorts and out fell the biggest cock I'd ever witnessed outside of watching porn. Annabelle gasped, and so did I.

I looked down at my pants and realized I had an erection. I left Annabelle with her friend and rushed upstairs to the bathroom and masturbated into the toilet bowl.

Annabelle and I made love that night. She was feisty the whole time.

"I want him, honey," she moaned in my ear while I was on top of her, sucking her tits.

"What do you want, Ann?"

"D.Rod," she gasped. "I want his cock. Uhggh! I want his giant cock to come and fuck me!"

"You really want that, babe?" I grunted.

"Oh yes! Yes! More than anything. I'll do anything, just let me have him."

I came soon after she said that. Little did she know it was the same thing I wanted too.

2.

At this point, you might assume that Annabelle and D.Rod exchanged phone numbers and that he dashed over to our home to spend time with her. Such wasn't the way it started. For one thing, I was enraptured that Annabelle had decided to venture forth with this. It had been months since I had been unwittingly prepping her toward this decision. Things would never have worked out better had I been bold-faced enough to suggest it to her. No way would Annabelle have thought to take my word and do as I wanted. But seeing the way things turned, never did I expect the amount of enthusiasm coming from her toward wanting to give this a try. Just when you think you've got somebody all figured out, they go ahead and give you an unexpected surprise. In this case, I have D.Rod to thank.

They did keep up with their corresponding. Annabelle got me making lunch and bringing it to her while she remained at the computer for hours chatting up with her would-be lover.

"We've set a date, honey," she happily announced to me two days later as we laid in bed. She was bubbling with excitement when she said it. "He's coming by for dinner this weekend."

"Wow," was all I could say. "This weekend being Saturday?"

"Uh-huh." Saturday was three days away. "There's no way I can go out and get my hair done, but I'll try and cut it short tomorrow. I'll need to clean the house, too. Also need to stop by the supermarket later . . . oh, honey, what do you think? Do you think he's going to like me? Do you really?"

She held my hand in both of hers as she bombarded me with these questions. I could only guess at whatever else D.Rod must have been saying to her that had suddenly raised her excitement level. I did my best to calm her down.

"Babe, I know he's going to like you," I said. "He already does, or else he won't still be chatting you up, would he?"

"Yeah," she replied, "but he's a handsome young man. He's probably got a slew of women wanting to have him. I doubt he's going to want to waste time with an old fart-looking hag like me."

"Who said you're a fart-looking hag?"

"You know what I mean," she pouted. "I'm not like any of those younger, cute-looking broads that's out there looking for young black studs."

"Honey, in case you forget, the city's under quarantine," I explained. "I doubt there's any cute broads out there that's looking for black studs right now. Not when you've got social distancing."

I tried my best to inject some levity, but the look on her face told me it wasn't working. I drew closer to her under the sheets, taking her hands in mind.

"You like him, don't you?" I asked her.

She nodded.

"Likewise he likes you, too. I know he does. And he's coming this Saturday to come see you. Not some cute broad; he's coming to see you. And you're going to be on your best for him, right, darling?"

"Yeah," she replied, and I could see the affirmative energy return to her eyes when she said that. "Yes, I'm going to look my damn best for him."

"That's my girl," I kissed her. "You're going to do fine, darling. I promise."

Annabelle slept with her arm stretched across my chest. I could tell she slept fine that night.

The next day, Annabelle earnestly began cleaning up the house. It wasn't like the house wasn't clean, except she went out of her way toward wanting to make it presentable for D.Rod. I helped out as much as I could to mop the floors and vacuum the carpet while she took down the curtains and dumped them in the washing machine. She hung them outside, then went to the bedroom and changed the sheets and pillowcases. I thought she was doing too much, but I didn't voice out any protest out of fear that it might upset her.

In the afternoon, she dressed up and went to the supermarket. I was at the computer checking on my email when I got a notification from D.Rod wanting to correspond on Skype. I told him who I was and replied that Annabelle was out.

You've got yourself a fine-looking wife, you hear.

"Thank you," I typed back.

You do know that I'm coming there to fuck her, don't you?

"Yes, I know that very well."

Has she been talking good about me?

"Everyday."

Good. I can't wait to fuck her. If you're good, then maybe I'll let you watch.

I almost didn't know what or how to respond to that. I simply thanked him once more, after which he signed off. I told Anabelle everything when she returned. She was disappointed that she hadn't been there to receive him, but was glad he had written to her. That made it evident to her of his intention for Saturday.

Saturday arrived and Annabelle got a text message from D.Rod —they exchanged phone numbers yesterday —saying he would be at our place around past noon. He needed to make sure that it was safe to drive without getting hassled by cops who might demand to know where he was heading. Annabelle had prepared her favorite casserole dish along with a salad. She had painted her nails for him, or rather I did it for her yesterday while she blow-dried her hair. I even shaved her myself. No way I could tell if that would be how D.Rod would like to see her crotch, but it felt safe to make it so. She pranced about the house, wanting to make sure everything was in order. She had hung back the curtains and changed the sheets and pillowcases upstairs. Her perfume wafted like a breeze. I kept immensely calm. That was surprising to me; for such an indelible moment like this, I, too, would have been bubbling with excitement that she was finally going to experience another man beside me.

D.Rod arrived at 1:46. He parked his Toyota in front of our driveway. I opened the door and welcomed him into our home.

"Annabelle will be down in a bit," I introduced him to the living room and inquired if he would care for something to drink.

"A beer," he said. "Anything but Corona," he added.

His aura preceded him. I could sense his domineering attitude from the way he appraised me. It was like he was sizing me up like a predator would a prey. He was so relaxed and confident about himself, you would have thought that he owned our home and we were nothing but his tenants/servants. We didn't have any Corona, thank God, but there was a bag of Heineken and he was okay with that. I sat across from him and waited.

Annabelle came down the stairs looking like a college lass on her way to a high school prom. She wore a sleeveless blue dress, a gift I had bought her nearly two years ago, with high heels. I had been baffled when she chose that as her outfit to today —it wasn't like D.Rod was taking her out on a date, was he?—but she insisted it was her moment and for me not to ruin it for her. I kept mum after that.

D.Rod looked at her admiringly as she waltzed down the stairs to come and stand before him. The whole time her cheeks glowed rosy red and she clutched her hands together. She gave a tentative greeting to him, and he responded in kind.

"I'm glad you made it over," she said.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he said.

An awkward silence passed, then she said, "Well, I hope you're hungry."

"I wasn't before I got here, but I am now."

Annabelle laughed and led him to the dining table. I felt embarrassed for myself being there. The two of them ought to have been out on the town on a date instead of this. But Annabelle didn't mind, so I wasn't going to make any fuss.

3.

She served him her delicious casserole. D.Rod ate contentedly. I got him another beer while we made conversation. It turned out he was a software analyst for a telecom company. It was unfortunate that we touched on the major issue at hand which was the debilitating health crisis in response to the coronavirus. D.Rod mentioned that a distant uncle of his had succumbed to the virus a week ago.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Annabelle reached for his hand.

"It's no big deal," D.Rod continued, "he had been ill for some time now."

He helped himself to some cheesecake. We switched the subject to something of a lighter note. He talked about the first time he got mesmerized by Annabelle's tits. She, too, went into how she had become taken by his words and looked forward to every time he was online. I sat on the opposite end of the table admiring their connection. They talked as though they were old friends instead of lovers.

"Ain't it time you showed me the rest of the house?" D.Rod said to her.

Annabelle blushed immediately and turned to look at me. A moment of indecision glinted in her eyes as I knew she wanted to know if this was happening for real. Was she about to take that big step into submitting herself to another man? She looked at me as if daring me to stop her. I looked back at her and tried to mentally inform her that it was okay what she was about to do. That seemed to work as she then turned to D.Rod and flashed a dazzling smile that said that she had made up her mind.

"Come with me," she took his hand and together they pushed back their chairs and got up.

I continued with my beer while Annabelle led him toward the stairs until they slipped away from sight.

Annabelle didn't want me to come upstairs. She had explicitly mentioned this before D.Rod arrived. Her fear was that my presence might chase away the urge to relax with him. I perfectly understood that and decided to keep to my word. But it was hard. I couldn't help imagine what was going on upstairs. I imagined he would spend a long time playing with her tits, likewise she would marvel at the enormity of his cock, knowing that she was beholding the real thing now. Would she possibly be thinking of me sitting here waiting, wondering perhaps if I was eavesdropping through the door? Possibly. But I chose instead to clear the dining table and clean up the mess that was in the kitchen.

I had concluded washing and was drying my hands off with a dish towel when I heard thumping footsteps coming from the stairways. I could hear heavy breathing too. A shadow appeared before a face came into view and it was Annabelle looking disheveled as if she had just survived a sandstorm. Her dress was partly ripped, exposing her breasts which bore teeth marks on them. Her make-up was in ruins, as was her hair. She was gasping as she trundled toward me, but there was a smile on her face that hinted at satisfaction.

"Oh my God," she moaned as she then came and hugged me. I could smell semen all over her. It didn't occur to me to look downward until later when I saw droplets of cum on the floor and realized she was leaking. "Oh my fucking God . . . hon, I've never . . . I've never been so well fucked in my life!"

I pulled a chair and sat her down while she continued inhaling deep breaths. Her feature was sweaty and she fanned herself with her hands as though that was going to help. I got her a glass of water and waited for her to speak. Her gasps were finally measured breaths, but she still wasn't giving out any information. My patience couldn't bear another minute.

"What was it like, hon?" I asked.

"Oh God, it was . . . it was beautiful," she blurted. "Fucking beautiful! He fucked me way better than you ever will, darling."

As though I needed me a soothsayer to tell me that. I would admit that I'd never been too good in the sack, not that I had ever been dull, but this admission did somewhat hit below the belt. Maybe I would have taken offence had she returned home from some adulterous tryst and uttered these words. But this was a result of my machination toward getting her to making a cuckold out of me. Why should I be upset when in reality this was what I wholesomely desired.

"I need to get back to him," she pulled herself to her feet, "I just wanted to come and let you know how it is. Also to say thank you for this, darling."

She kissed me, and that kiss made everything so very special. I held her hand as she walked to the stairs like I was fearful she might slump down due to an excitement overload. As it turns out, she was fine.

They remained inside for more than an hour. I heard bumping noise from upstairs letting me know how good their fucking was going. I watched a movie and when that was over, turned to the news, which was boring and dreary as you could imagine. Nothing but the pandemic and of how worse it was getting for the world. But at least in my household things were looking up good.

4.

D.Rod stayed with Annabelle till 5:54 p.m. when he decided to take his leave. He had showered then marched downstairs to tell me he was about to roll.

"I'll be keeping in touch with you both," he said, then added: "Your wife sure is a fine woman in bed."

"Do you intend on making more visits for her?" I asked. "I think she'd love that."

"For sure. Why else did I say that I'll be keeping in touch. You just keep her warm for me."

He winked at me then wore a face mask over his nose and mouth before walking out the front door. I watched from behind the door screen as he got into his Toyota then drove off. The day felt like something out of a movie. Had someone told me years before that such would come to past in my home, I would declared the individual as complete nuts. But who would have thought that years after Annabelle and I had raised a family and gotten settled in our marriage as old love birds we've become that I would be capable of enticing her toward having sex with a younger man. A young black man.

"Honey."

I turned around sharply when I heard her voice. She was coming down the stairs staring at me with that sweet smile on her face. Everything about her smile appeared to illuminate the room. She was dressed in a tank top and shorts; her nipples were hard and pushing against the top's fabric.

"Has he gone, honey?" she asked as she came and stood beside me where I was still staring out the doorway into the front yard.

"Yeah, he's gone. He says he's gonna keep in touch."

She nodded. "I talked him into coming again the day after. He said he's got some important stuff to take care of so tomorrow's out of the question." she sighed. "I'm so horny and missing him already."

"How about I go in the kitchen and make us some coffee," I suggested as a means of taking her mind off from being without D.Rod. "Come on, it'll do you some good."

She nodded and allowed me to lead her to the kitchen.