Blessed and Cursed

She was 'The One'. Definitely. As soon as I saw her standing there on the corner, looking at those postcards, I knew it. We were driving by in a friend's car, the first day of university, everyone getting to know each other and there was me, spotting this raven-haired girl as we went by. That would have been that, of course. Me, I was a shy boy at that age ... still am, in fact. I'd never have approached her normally but, the next day, I went with a new acquaintance to a lecture for new arts students, sort of a preparatory thing introducing us to how things worked, study techniques and so on.

And there she was again, sitting in the middle row. I don't know why, but something made me sit next to her. I should have been terrified - I mean, I was terrified - but I did it anyway. A bold move from one such as I. I even spoke to her ... and we spoke some more and afterwards, for some reason, I went back to her room.

No, not for that. We discovered we had a shared interest in particular music genres and the whole university thing was so new that it was nice to befriend someone. And for me, it was wonderful to befriend a girl, being so shy and all. So we chatted, hung out a bit and then a few days later went down to the local rock club together. We became good friends. I hesitate to say best friends at this stage, but I knew that she was happy to have me in her life as something steady to lean on. She was suffering from homesickness for a bit and my presence helped her. I was - and am still - proud of how I helped her in those days.

I loved her, I knew that. Maybe from the first moment we met, I loved her. Eventually, I could say she had grown to love me. She went out with other guys and everything, but it was never serious. I even saw other people but we always remained close until, one night, we both admitted our feelings. It was wonderful and I look back on that first night in her bed, fumbling around and everything. It was sweet.

As the years went by, our love grew ... but at some point something changed. It wasn't with our relationship, it was ... well, I didn't know. A lack of closeness in bed. A lack of ... interest on her part. So we stayed together but it was almost platonic at some point. I didn't know why. Not then, anyway.

So around the time we were in our third year, we went to a party at a friend's house. It was nice, we were both having a good time and then, about 11pm or so, I realised she'd disappeared. Curious, I looked for her all over the house. I got to the top floor and heard some strange noises coming from a bedroom. I pushed the door open very slowly and nearly shouted out in surprise at what I saw.

There was Sarah on the bed, clothes tossed into the corner, her lithe, naked body bucking and thrashing under a coal black man, a man who had his cock buried to the balls in her pussy!

I froze, unable to move, watching my beloved Sarah moan and groan as the man's big dick slammed into her body over and over, relentlessly pounding her little pussy. She was obviously having the time of her life - in fact, I couldn't recall ever making her make these sounds before. I thought our sex was great ... but obviously Sarah didn't. I continued to watch my cheating girlfriend as she began to shout that she was cumming. She had claimed to have orgasms with me but I knew in that moment that she had been faking them - THIS in front of me was what her real orgasms looked like. Her legs wrapped around his muscular back, her hands on his butt, trying to press him even further into her vagina. She let out a series of guttural screams as her climax sent her eyes rolling far back in her head, her face a mask of pleasure.

Then she did something that shocked me, that cut me to the bone. She started urging him to fuck her harder, to fuck her like her boyfriend never could. Like I never could. She was taunting me with this stranger, this stranger who had his phallus buried in her cunt. In a while, they changed position, Sarah on her hands and knees and the man fucking her even deeper now, which definitely met with her approval. As they were changing, my eyes went wide as I saw just how big this man's cock was. It had to be a foot long and was twice as thick as mine. I suddenly knew why Sarah was doing this - this was like Sex 2.0 in comparison to what I could give her.

As I watched, she came twice more until, finally, the man roared and I knew he was spurting his semen deep into her body, filling her womb with his seed ... something she'd never let me do. I hated wearing condoms - just putting them on sometimes made me lose my erection - but she had always refused to have sex with me without them ... and yet she was letting this man, someone I'd never seen before, cum inside her. Did she want to get pregnant? I just couldn't understand it, but I didn't have time to think about it. If I stayed there much longer, they'd see me. I escaped back downstairs and, 10 minutes later, she reappeared, acting as if nothing had happened. I couldn't help thinking about how his sperm must be dripping out of her pussy as we spoke, as she smiled at me as if I was the only man in her life. I had to admit, she was a good faker.

From that day on, I saw things I'd never noticed before. The way she would eye up men in the street or would "accidentally" bump into them and then meet their eyes. It was amazing I'd never seen this before, how flagrant it was. I kept silent, but I wanted to know just how much had been going on. Was this just a one-off thing, a moment of madness? So I decided to do some snooping.

One day she was out at a lecture and I sat down at our computer and accessed her e-mail. She wasn't massively computer savvy so didn't think that her password would be saved by the browser. It was and I found it easily. I opened up her e-mail and saw the folder immediately.

It was merely called SEX in block capitals and I shuddered as I clicked on it. Inside were thousands of e-mails from people I knew - men and women - and people I didn't - men and women again. My jaw dropped as I scanned the subjects. They were beyond belief. "Gang-bang #36", "Lesbian Orgy #125", "Wanna Knock You Up" and so on. The top one was dated that day and was called "Double Anal Fuckfest!". It left little to the imagination, but I clicked it anyway. My eyes would have jumped out of their head and rolled away if they could have done. It was from her friend Cecily, a French girl, and the first thing in it was a close-up photo of two enormous black cocks buried in a white girl's ass. The second picture showed more of the girl and, of course, it was Sarah, a big grin on her face as she posed for the camera. The text below was Cecily praising my girlfriend for "breaking her double anal duck" and finally joining the big girl's club.

The reply had been sent ... holy shit, it had been sent just a few minutes before I'd logged in! Sarah had been checking her e-mails either during or just before the lecture. She'd replied saying "Woooooh! Fucking awesome night! Can't wait to do it again! Hey, maybe next time I can try for three juicy black cocks up inside me, yeah?"

I was stunned. Completely stunned. My girlfriend, the woman I thought was all sweetness and light ... was a complete and total slut! That girl I'd seen looking at postcards a few years ago, that had had just as much to do with the shy fumbling on our first night together ... this was the girl in the picture with two massive black cocks up her ass!

How had this happened? Had I driven her to this? If so, how? I'd always loved her, given her all I could ... but she was having gangbangs and orgies and ... shit, I just realised. Lesbian Orgy? She was fucking girls too? Oh my God, was this really happening?

Of course, maybe I shouldn't be surprised. She was gorgeous, many people had complemented me on being with her. I had always felt lucky to be her man ... but now I'd discovered I wasn't. Even women were preferable to me, it seems. I opened another e-mail and then another, all continuing to besmirch the angelic image I had in my mind of my Sarah, my innocent Sarah, the love of my life. Pictures assailed me, over and over, showing me images of Sarah taking cock after cock after cock, often two at a time. Cocks up her ass, two cocks in her pussy, women eating cum out of her cunt or ass, so many depraved things I was getting dizzy.

There were some arty ones too, obviously taken before or after things had happened. One was Sarah on a desk at the front of a lecture hall, her legs spread wide, a grin on her face and one finger beckoning towards the camera. In the foreground I could see that the seats were all occupied by black men! The next photo was of Sarah on her knees, face completely covered in sperm and a pint glass in her hands. It too was full to the brim with semen. A third picture showed her in the process of drinking the contents of the glass!

I jumped in my seat as I heard a door slam downstairs. She was back! I quickly closed everything up and moved away from the computer, trying to act as if nothing was on my mind. She immediately went to the computer as I sat on the sofa "reading" a magazine. After about five minutes, I noticed her bite her lip ... and then announce that she was going out in the evening with "a friend". I asked casually who it was and she said it was Cecily. I nodded and that was the end of that ... until I snuck out after her. She did indeed go to Cecily's flat. It was dark and I stood in the shadows across the street, watching, wondering how I'd got to this point.

A few minutes later, a group of black males approached Cecily's front door. As the portal opened, I saw Sarah there, greeting them with obvious joy ... and no clothes at all! Words were exchanged and, to my horror, one of the men reached down and thrust two fingers up into her pussy! Anyone could have seen them do this, but neither seemed to care. Granted, nobody else was about, but still... the man had four fingers in her now ... and now his whole fist was in there! My God, he was literally fisting my supposedly sweet girlfriend in public!

It didn't last long though as soon they all hurried inside. It was a quiet evening and I caught the words "desperate", "fuck" and "asshole" as Sarah ushered them in. I had to know what was happening, sneaking across the street. It was dark even here and I managed to find a place outside the front window where I could peek through small gap in the curtains.

Sarah was already getting fucked, sitting on the cock of one of the men and bouncing up and down. The others were smoking something, relaxing while Cecily and her flatmates sucked their huge cocks. I remained transfixed by the sight of my girlfriend's pussy being stretched so much by the enormous invader. To my shame, I felt myself becoming aroused at the sight. It was a thing of beauty, to be sure, and I couldn't help but admire her for being so easily able to take such a monster inside her.

And when a second man stood, cock erect, and moved to her, I knew what was coming. Still, I almost shook my head as the biggest cocks I'd ever seen both disappeared to the root into her stretched cunt. She was going wild now, obviously climaxing like crazy all over their dicks. It was amazing to watch, this fairly petite girl spread so much, stretched so much ... and yet handling it like a pro. Indeed, she was doing stuff I'd expect to see in some relatively extreme porn scene ... but this was reality, this was MY girlfriend. I wanted to marry this girl ... but now?

Strangely, I still felt my love for her was strong ... perhaps, bizarrely, stronger than before. I know, it makes no sense, but ... she was the One. I told you that earlier and I meant it. She really was... so she liked to fuck around ... maybe I wasn't adequate as a lover ... but I wouldn't give her up. I loved her and she loved me, right? Not sexually, perhaps ... but as a person, as a ... something.

The men were really hammering her now, her body flailing about like a ragdoll as they ruthlessly fucked her. Their pace meant it wasn't long before they obviously began to come inside her and it was at that point I heard voices in the street. Slinking back into the shadows, I saw more black men approaching the door. I watched as Sarah again answered and beckoned them inside. I heard her clearly this time, addressing them cheerfully and saying they were all in for a treat. She'd just been warmed up by two of the other guys and was eager to get down to a serious gang-bang. Her holes were "ripe and ready for fucking".

I was preparing to move back to my place by the window, but suddenly the lights went off in the lounge and I knew the group had gone upstairs or to other places. I cursed my luck and trudged off home, knowing I would be on my own tonight in bed. I didn't get much sleep. I had a lot to think about, after all.

My obsession with Sarah's secret lifestyle grew in the passing days and weeks. I found it difficult to concentrate on my studies, but got by just about. What I spent most of my time doing was eavesdropping on her conversations, following her around and reading any and all the e-mails she received. I even started looking at her phone when she wasn't carrying it with her. It was the same as with the e-mails - an almost constant barrage of sexual images and videos, all to do with her or her friends.

But our relationship? To me it was still strong. We still got on like we had from day one. We shared everything - well, nearly everything - that wasn't to do with sex. I took comfort in this... until, the week before we were to graduate, she broke up with me. Out of the blue, she said we needed to talk and sat me down in a cafe on the seafront. I admit, I fell apart. As soon as I realised what was going on, I bolted out the door. She tried to follow me, to comfort me, but I lashed out verbally, calling her names ... I wish I hadn't done that, but I did. Slut was one of the nicer words I used. She took it with amazingly good grace, but I knew instantly that I'd burned too many bridges, that any hope I had of winning her back was out of the window. So I stood, tears burning trails down my face, as she walked away.

When I got home later that day, she'd left, taking everything she could carry with her. I didn't see her again for three years. I fell into a pit of deep depression, putting on weight, wasting precious years of my life moping at home with my parents while she ... I knew what she was doing. She was fucking people. She didn't have to hide it anymore, after all. How did I know? Well, it was obviously what she would have done, but ... she never changed her e-mail password so I was able to monitor everything she did by accessing it. It fed my depression as I watched her, from afar, continue to fuck everyone and everything she wanted.

She even began to date again. I read with a mixture of fury and utter sadness how a man named Neil was courting her, how she was even considering getting married to this man. I knew, though, that she had merely replaced me with him and that she had not curtailed her extra-curricular activities one bit since meeting him. Did he know? I doubted it. She was surely better at concealing her lifestyle now, after all.

Then, three years after we broke up, she suddenly contacted me. My mind went into overdrive. Did she want to get back together? Did she miss me? I'd seen no evidence of this, but my heart, it still burned for her and I grabbed at any straws I could. We decided to meet and there I was, sitting in the chair outside the coffee house, watching her walk towards me. She had changed a bit, grown more mature, but she was still perfection in my eyes. I, of course, was shabbier, more corpulent and generally worse than she'd seen me last. She didn't let that show. She was just happy to see me, as a friend.

We spoke and it was like old times for a brief moment. We talked about music, life, what we were doing now and so on. She was saddened by my current state, jobless and not going anywhere. She, of course, was doing well for herself, working in an art gallery. I knew all this, of course. I knew that the gallery owner, a Professor Mbengwi, was one of her regular fuck buddies, but I didn't say anything. I let the images I'd seen of the Professor and his friends ravishing my perfect Sarah play across my mind for a second, suppressing a shudder. She smiled at me, I smiled at her.

She told me about her fiancé, Neil. I pretended to be interested, concealing my hatred for this unknown man. He seemed like he loved her, would care and provide for her. Then she said she was considering having a baby. I winced slightly, not sure if she caught my twitch or not. She acted like she hadn't, at least. This Neil would get to do what I'd wanted, to sire a child with this woman.

But no, not quite.

For the first time, she spoke openly to me about her secret life. She apologised to me, telling me everything she'd done while with me at university. The next night after we'd coupled for the first time, her friend Cecily had talked to her, introduced her to a man named Jermaine. It was then that she realised that, while she loved me, she LOVED Jermaine. Not for who he was as a person, but for what he was - a black man with a massive cock. I saw a middle-aged woman at a table nearby turn her head sharply when Sarah quite clearly and loudly said the words "big black cock" to me.

Cecily had pulled down Jermaine's pants and Sarah hadn't resisted for a second. She'd started to suck this magnificent cock and, while doing so, encountered Cecily's lips doing the same thing, both girls lavishing this monster with their mouths. It had been the most natural thing, Sarah said, to break off from kissing the penis to kissing her friend and, from that moment, they had become lovers as well as best friends. It wasn't long before Cecily was guiding the massive dick into Sarah's pussy and a slut was born. She said it was difficult at first, but apparently she took to it easily in comparison to some girls. Seemed like she was a natural size queen.

Sarah then said that she blossomed as a woman, exploring her sexuality with Cecily - and not with me - as often as she could. She said that she'd had sex with easily 5,000 different men and women over the last 5 or so years since we had first lain with each other. I struggled to even fathom this number - how was that even possible?

I asked her what her fiancé thought of this and she merely grinned. She'd not told him, but he'd find out soon enough. This was where the baby came in - she planned on getting pregnant, but that the father would be black. I felt strangely happy at this news - that she confided this to me and 'hubby' wouldn't know until out popped a black baby!

I congratulated her and said it was a fantastic idea. She cocked an eyebrow at me, but seemed pleased enough. She even said she'd named the baby after me if it was a boy. She stood to leave, but I reached out, touching her hand. There was one more thing to tell her. She sat again ... and I told her I'd never stop loving her for as long as I lived. This meeting had brought some peace and I felt better able to move on, but that I'd never love anyone like I loved her. She stroked my cheek and I saw tears in her eyes. She nodded and said she knew this to be true.

Then I popped the question.

I said I wanted to be part of her other life, to be a fully aware and committed partner in helping her live out her sexual desires and fantasies. I wanted her to cuckold me, to use me in her sex games. I just wanted to be near her and this was the way I could do this. I begged her to ditch Neil, saying that I'd do anything for her, to be near her.

But she refused. No, that part of my life was over, she said. I held back the tears... but in the end, she left me with a glimmer of hope. She wrote an address down on a bit of paper and handed it to me. Touching my cheek again, she said I couldn't be her husband ... but she'd be happy for me to be her cuck.