I often find myself drifting into these cuckold-filled thoughts at night while alone in bed. It's been months since the divorce, but McKenzie lingers in my mind, my ex-wife, with her soft smile and lovely white skin. She's always been so composed, not one to chase attention or wander far from routine. That's part of what draws me in, I suppose, the contrast in my fantasies.

Every evening, after scrolling through porn sites, the ones filled with cuckold stories, beta white boys watching from the sidelines, I can't help but picture her with Terry, her new husband. His dark skin against her milky white, his cock deep in her pussy. I'd lie there, hand moving slowly at first, building the scene: her mild demeanor cracking open, body yielding to him night after night. I'd cum with a soft gasp, spilling over my stomach, then I'd quickly fall asleep.

It grew into an obsession, really. I'd seek out more porn, videos of women like her transforming into eager sluts for black cock, and I'd stroke furiously, imagining McKenzie doing the same. She wasn't like that at all, not shy, exactly, but selective, private about her desires. The idea of her losing control, maybe getting a little drunk or high at a party, inhibitions melting away until she's begging for it, wild and unrestrained… it thrilled me because it was so unlike her. I'd finish quickly, exhausted and sated.

One evening, deep in a rabbit hole of tabs, I stumbled on this site: "Unlock Your Wife: Guide to Cuckolding and BBC Submission." It promised techniques, hypnosis scripts to open her up. The guide explained that after weaving in the trigger words, you'd ask if they understand, and if it worked, they'd say "I absolutely do,' that's how you'd know they were under. Skeptical but curious, I paid for the full guide. It detailed fifty specific words to drop into conversation, placing someone under suggestion. Once under, they'd obey, and you could implant lasting commands.

I studied it carefully, heart pounding mildly. Then I called her.

"Hey, McKenzie, just checking in," I said casually, chatting about the weather, her day, dropping the words one by one: relax, listen, open, deeper… all fifty in under three minutes, as instructed.

"Do you understand?" I asked softly.

"I absolutely do," she replied, voice flat, monotone.

I paused, testing gently. "I miss your breasts sometimes. Wish I could see them again."

Silence.

Then I add, "would you send me a picture right now?"

No words, but my phone buzzed. There they were, her familiar curves, nipples pert in the flash of her camera, that milky white skin glowing. Excitement bubbled up, warm and insistent.

"Tell me about your nights with Terry," I murmured, hand already on my cock.

"When he fucks you."

She spoke robotically: positions they tried, routine intimacy a couple times a week, lights off, quick and gentle. It was so mundane, so everyday, nothing like my fantasies. Frustration built as I stroked, the details falling flat.

"How big is Terry's cock?" I asked, pressing. "Describe it to me."

"It's not that big," she said plainly, "maybe a little bigger than yours. Average length, nothing special."

I groaned inwardly, it wasn't matching my dreams at all. "Finger yourself," I said. "Tell me about your best time with him."

Her breathing shifted, moans threading through as her fingers worked. "He picked me up once… it was sometime before we got married… his dark hands gripping my thighs… pressed me hard against the bedroom wall, my back arching…he lifted me like I weighed nothing, folding me in half, my legs dangling over his strong arms, knees hooked there as he thrust up into me standing… deep, pounding strokes, his cock slamming in deep, balls slapping against my ass with every brutal push… I was pinned, helpless, his dark body dominating mine, sweat mixing on our skin… he grunted with each ram, faster, harder, my pussy clenching around him until I screamed…"

It pushed me over, the intensity of her moans and words making me cum hard, spurting hot across my chest. She kept going, rubbing her clit furiously until her own cries peaked, echoing faintly, body shuddering through the phone.

Before ending, I thought ahead, "whenever I say 'your hair and shoes look really nice together today,' you'll enter a state where you act completely normal, carrying on conversations, going about your day as usual, no robotic tone or blank stares, but you'll obey immediately and without question any request made of you, by me or by anyone else, feeling it as your own natural impulse, and this will last exactly 24 hours before fading."

Then I said the phrase.

"Finger your asshole and clit until you cum again."

Then I hung up, smiling faintly as sleep pulled me under.

The day passed in its usual quiet rhythm, work and errands blending into one another until evening settled in. I texted McKenzie around dinnertime, just a casual, "what's up?"

Her reply came quick: "I can't right now." That sparked a mild curiosity, so I called her up. She answered with a rushed edge, annoyed. "I can't talk right now," she said, voice tight.

"Tell me what happened," I replied softly, testing the waters.

She obeyed without hesitation, her words tumbling out, "at work today, I was chatting with Sarah, my co-worker, about these new panties I bought, silky lace ones, so comfortable against my skin. We were laughing about it in the break room. Then later, Mike, that guy who is always flirting with everyone, wandered by my desk. He's always teasing, you know. He said he'd overheard me talking about showing off my new panties and joked he was disappointed he didn't get to see them. I told him to get lost, but he persisted, grinning like an idiot.

"Come on, McKenzie, show me your new panties," he said. And… I just did. I stood up, pulled my dress up over my hips, right there at my desk, letting him see the lace hugging my hips, the thin fabric barely covering my mound. He stared, eyes wide, and practically yelled, 'oh my god!'

I held it there for a moment before letting the dress fall back down. He asked why I'd done that, and I said it was because he asked. Then he shook his head, disbelieving, and said, 'if I asked for a blowjob, would you give me that too?' And I replied yes, plain as day. I don't know why, I can't figure it out. It wasn't like me at all. I'm so upset, humiliated, wondering what came over me."

I couldn't help but chuckle softly to myself, the image playing out in my head: her thighs exposed, that lace teasingly sheer, Mike's shock turning to temptation. What if he'd pushed it? Would she have dropped to her knees right there, unzipping him at her desk, lips parting to suck his cock while colleagues typed away nearby? The thought sent a warm thrill through me, my own cock twitching at the risk, the exposure. It would have made for one hell of a story.

Glancing at the clock, I saw the 24 hours were nearly up, the suggestion fading soon.

"Tell Terry you want to fuck him tonight and record it," I said calmly. "It'll be hot. Have him hold your phone so you can see yourself bouncing on his cock, his big hands squeezing your tits and ass hard, pinching your nipples until they're red and aching. And make sure it captures his big black cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy. End it with you giving him a blowjob, deep, sloppy, until he cums all over your face. Then, when you're alone, send me the video, delete the sent copy, and forget you ever sent it so you can't tell anyone about it. Do that tonight, I want to jerk off to it before bed."

She murmured agreement, still in that compliant haze, and I hung up, settling back with anticipation building like a slow burn.

Later that evening, around 11:30, my phone buzzed with a text, no words, just a video attachment from her. I dimmed the lights, stripped down, and hit play, my hand already wrapping around my hardening cock as the scene unfolded.

It started with McKenzie in their bedroom, the camera shaky at first as Terry held her phone, pointed down at her straddling him on the bed. Her pale skin contrasted against his dark body beneath her. She lowered herself slowly onto his black cock, her pink pussy lips parting around the head, swallowing it inch by inch until her ass rested against his balls.

"Oh god, yes, fill me up just like that," she moaned, voice husky, as if the words bubbled up naturally. She started bouncing then, tits jiggling with each drop, full with rosy nipples hardening in the air. His dark hands reached up, squeezing them roughly, thumbs circling her nipples before pinching hard, making her gasp and arch her back, skin flushing under his grip.

The camera angled better as she rode him faster, her hips grinding in circles, that black shaft disappearing into her slick cunt with wet, squelching sounds, schlick, schlick, each thrust upward from him slapping against her clit. "Fuck, right there—don't stop, Terry," she purred, glancing at the lens, her fingers spreading her lips wider for the view, showing her inner walls clinging to him, coated in creamy arousal. Sweat beaded on her forehead, trickling down between her breasts as she bounced harder, ass cheeks rippling with the impact, his hands sliding down to grab fistfuls of her flesh, spreading her open while he pounded up into her from below.

They switched positions seamlessly, her on all fours now, camera behind as Terry mounted her doggy-style, his dark hips slamming against her ass with loud smacks. His black cock plunged in deep, pulling out shiny and slick before ramming back in, her juices dripping down her thighs.

"Harder, baby, make me feel it tomorrow," she begged, pushing back against him, her tits swinging pendulously, nipples grazing the sheets.

He gripped her hips, fingers digging into her soft skin, leaving faint red marks as he drilled her relentlessly, the bed creaking under the force, her moans turning to whimpers as an orgasm built, her body shuddering, pussy clenching around his shaft, milking him as she cried out, "I'm cumming, oh fuck yes, I'm cumming on your black cock!"

More angles followed: her on her back, legs spread wide, ankles hooked over his shoulders as he folded her nearly in half. His dark body loomed over her, cock pistoning straight down into her depths, balls slapping her ass with each thrust. The camera caught close-ups, her swollen clit throbbing, his black shaft splitting her open, veins pulsing as he buried himself inside.

"Squeeze me tighter, god, I need it," she gasped, and he did, twisting her nipples until she squealed, her skin mottled with his handprints.

They flipped again, her riding reverse cowgirl, ass facing the camera, cheeks spread as she impaled herself on him, that black pole vanishing into her pink folds over and over, her asshole winking with each bounce. His hands roamed, slapping her ass cheeks red, fingers teasing her puckered hole before sliding down to rub her clit in frantic circles.

"Yes, just like that, I'm your black cock slut," she panted, grinding down hard, her arousal soaking his balls.

Finally, the ending: She slid off him, dropping to her knees on the floor, camera angled down as she took his black cock into her mouth, lips stretching around the head, tongue swirling over the slit, tasting her own juices mixed with his pre-cum. It was sloppy, messy, drool spilling from the corners of her mouth as she bobbed deeper, gagging sounds filling the air—gawk, hauck, gawk—as he grabbed her hair and fucked her throat, his shaft disappearing down her gullet, bulging her neck slightly with each thrust. Spit strings stretched from his cock to her lips when she pulled back for air, only to dive in again, sucking hungrily, hands stroking his balls and the base she couldn't swallow.

"Paint me with your cum, ruin my pretty white face," she mumbled around him, eyes locked up at him.

He groaned, pulling out, jerking his length furiously as ropes of thick, white cum erupted, splattering across her forehead, cheeks, and open mouth, dripping into her eyes and down her chin. She blinked through it, fingers running through the sticky mess, wiping it from her lashes, smearing it over her tits for good measure. The video ended with him slapping his spent, cum-slick cock on her extended tongue, wet thwacks echoing, as she lapped at it eagerly, eyes glazed with post-orgasmic haze, face glistening with his seed.

I stroked myself through the whole thing, cumming hard midway through the doggy scene, then again at the facial, spilling over my hand as sleep tugged at me soon after, the fantasies swirling even deeper now.

Every night, I call McKenzie, my voice calm as I slip those fifty trigger words into our chat, relax, listen, open, deeper, like it’s nothing. I end with, "Do you understand?" and she says, flat as ever, "I absolutely do." Then I lock it in again, I say the phrase, and she’s mine to command, still herself but ready to jump at any order.

Then I dive in, my cock already stiffening in my hand.

"Get filthy, McKenzie," I growl.

"Tell me how fucking tiny my dick is compared to the black cocks you’ve had. How much you love them over white cock. Tell me how it feels when they fuck you raw, how it stretches your cunt, how it makes you feel, how you’re obsessed with holding or jerking their thick black meat because of how it looks against your white skin."

Her voice comes through, not robotic but dripping with lust, like she’s spilling her dirtiest secrets in a dark room. "Your dick? Fucking pathetic that never did anything for me. I need black cock to satisfy me. They’re in another league, thick and heavy, making my pussy gape in ways you never could. I’d rather get fucked by them any day than deal with your limp white prick again. I’m soaking before they even start, just feeling that dark meat in my hand, the way it pulses, so fucking alive. It’s not just sex, it’s a high, a rush of being owned, my heart pounding, clit throbbing like it’s got its own heartbeat. I’m addicted to it, to how their dark skin looks against my white skin. I could jerk those thick black cocks all day, my pale fingers sliding over every vein, the contrast so hot I’m dripping just holding it, begging to shove it inside and get stupid for it."

Her words are delicious, raw and nasty, feeding my fantasy as I jerk harder, picturing her pale hand stroking Terry’s dark cock, her usual restraint gone, just a needy slut for it.

"Keep going," I rasp, and she does, her voice thick with heat, my dick a shriveled nothing next to the black cocks that I love to imagine wrecking her, how she’s desperate to be fucked senseless, how just brushing against one makes her cunt clench, the stretch a screaming pleasure that owns her body and mind. I cum hard, hot ropes splattering my chest, a low grunt slipping out as I shudder. I mutter a quick goodbye, hang up, and crash into sleep, her filthy confession looping in my head, ready to do it all again the next time I'm horny.