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Phone sex is my own personal form of confession. I might not make it to church on Sundays, so you use all my callers as my secret little contributors to my carnal crimes.

His ebony frame glistened from the dim lights of the room. My husband was home and sneaking him into the house was a first for me. I always met them in a hotel or a bar. Tonight though, I was feeling extra needy. I had the newest stud sneak into the pool house, he was waiting when I got there. I swear his body was like a god, but when the other 2 walked out, I was in for more than I bargained for. Wasn’t I suppose to be in charge of this?

“Bitch, we ain’t those phone sex playa’s. We the real thing.”

Hands-on my body, their chocolate skin against my lily-white flesh were intoxicating. I love the way the contrast of our tones played against the limited amount to light that filtered in from the full moon. Groping my large breasts, I love it when they force me to perform for them. Naturally, Dominate, that only works on the white men. A Real Man, a Black Man, well he would never allow a white woman to own him. This is why I love phone sex. I can be anything I want.

Fucked in every hole, my perfect orifices stretched and ripped to take the demanding girth of their thick, vein filled shafts. God, how wrong this was, but how right it felt. Riding one, another took my ass, while the next Mandingo stud knotting his hand in my blonde hair and fed me my midnight snack. All three blew the loads inside of me and were gone like thieves in the night, but my cheating caught. The moment I went back to my house, my husband sat on the edge of the bed, watching and waiting. Phone sex lets me relive all this daily.

Phone sex might be a safer route for my little kink, but I will always be a cheating whore. Hence, the reason I have asked them back over tonight. Furthermore, I hope he catches me again!