The German Teacher
byArchie89
"I'd like to volunteer to help at our local refugee center."
Sandra's words, spoken out of the blue, abruptly ended Frank's little monologue he had been giving, commenting the piece of news about a horribly looking refugee camp they were showing on TV during the refugee crisis in Europe in early 2016.
"What, my love?" Frank immediately reacted. "You'd like to do what?"
"I'd like to help!" Sandra answered. "I can't take this anymore. Here we are, watching those poor people arrive in Europe day by day, arguing about whether they should be here in the first place, whether they should be deported, whether they should be given anything, et cetera, et cetera!"
Sandra shifted on the sofa to face her husband, catching his eyes with a severe look on her face. If Frank knew one thing about his loving wife of 3 years, it was that look that told him she wasn't kidding, and he would be well-advised to take her seriously.
"I want to do something, Frank!" Sandra went on. "I want to do something instead of talk all the time! Maybe those useless politicians come up with a solution for this mess, but until then, we need to get active! Those poor people have come to us, and they're going to stay here for quite a while, no matter whether they're here legally or not."
Frank held his wife's gaze and thought about what she had just said. Although they both had always been on the rather conservative side of the political landscape, they agreed that Germany did the right thing when they didn't close their borders back in 2015, preventing a humanitarian crisis in poorer European countries where hundreds of thousands of refugees and migrants would have faced the cold, hunger and thirst.
The couple had lived in the German town of Kaiserfurt, Sandra's hometown, for about two and a half years now. Two teacher salaries enabled them to build a nice, medium-sized house, buy two cars and two well-deserved holidays a year. There weren't any ******* yet, and if it were up to Frank, there wouldn't be any until they turned 30. Life was good for them, and they were thankful for it.
"Well, that would be quite an act of charity, my love," Frank answered after some time of contemplation. "What do you have in mind exactly?"
"Well, do you remember me telling you that Anna, our primary school's vice principal, has already started giving volunteer German language classes in the refugee center?" Sandra told him in an excited manner. "I would like to help her! Speaking German is essential to live in this country, and I can't think of a better way to help those people to integrate into our society, to get a job and to simply manage German everyday life."
Frank didn't see any reason why that wasn't a good idea and gave his wife his okay. Two days passed, and finally, Sandra returned home with some paper work to fill out.
"They said, I could start tomorrow. I'm completely free in how I organize the lessons as long as I aim for standardized goals regarding grammar, spelling, speaking and writing." Sandra told Frank euphorically. "Anna's already set up two classes with 10 students each for me, and I should be teaching them at least twice a week for about two hours per lesson."
"Do you think you're up for that?" Frank asked her with a touch of concern. "Can you handle job, private life and your new responsibilities?"
"Yes, Frank," Sandra laughed. "How many times have I told you: unlike you, I'm a primary school teacher. If I can manage that adorable bunch of little monsters, I think I'm up for pretty much any task in the world. And don't you worry, I'm going to make sure to keep everything in the right balance."
Sandra came over to him, standing next to the kitchen table, and hugged him. Her embrace, her lovely smell and the feeling of her slender body against his had always made him feel like he was in heaven, accompanied by an angel.
"And what about security?" Frank asked, holding her in his arms. "Is it safe there? I know they preferably show footage of little children on TV, but many say it's predominantly young men coming here."
"Don't you worry," Sandra said, giving him a kiss on his cheek, "there's a security service in the facility at all times, and their main post is just outside the classroom. And as for the other issue: one of my classes consists of Syrian mothers and their children and the other of male refugees from sub-Saharan Africa, predominantly Ghana."
The thought of his petite wife being alone in a room with 10 African men suddenly caused concern in Frank, but his wife assured him that her safety was guaranteed by the security team, and they had been instructed to be close by at all lessons.
Frank decided not to overthink it all. Women across the country had been volunteering to help refugees for months now, and so far, Frank hadn't heard of any major incident about a volunteer worker and a refugee in one of the facilities.
Sandra remained in a particularly good mood for the rest of the day. She was always coming up with new ideas what to teach and how to do it, and eventually, the omnipresence of the refugee topic started to annoy Frank a little. That's why he was especially glad when they were finally lying in bed, having great sex. Not only was it particularly good that night since Sandra's overall excitement hadn't diminished, but making his wife moan from the thrusts of his cock also prevented her from going on about that one subject.
Sandra was on all fours with her head resting on a pillow and her firm butt raised high in the air as Frank was pounding her vigorously, causing her full, C-Cup breasts to bounce back and forth. Although he didn't have the biggest cock, he found it easy to make his wife cum using the right technique at the right moment. Pulling her long, red hair, which was bound together to a ponytail, backwards, Frank released all of his cum into the condom he had to use since Sandra didn't really like other forms of birth control.
The next day was a Thursday. It came and passed just as normally as any other. After work, Frank left the local high school, went home and prepared some lessons for next week. He had sent Sara a message whishing her good luck with her first lesson and telling her there would be her favorite dish from the Chinese delivery service waiting for her when she would return.
The delivery guy had just left, and Frank had just finished setting up the table for dinner, when Sandra came back. She put all the bags with her teaching material on the floor, got out of her coat and greeted her husband with a kiss.
"Hi darling," Frank said. "How was it? Are you alright?"
"Hey, my love," Sandra answered, "it was very good! I'd like to tell you all about it later though, because I'm literally starving!"
They didn't waste any time, sat down at the table in the living-room and enjoyed their meals. Sandra was wearing a casual outfit consisting of a dark green blouse, blue skinny jeans and white sneakers. Her lovely red hair had been bound to a ponytail again.
Sandra really must have been starving, because she finished her meal before Frank did, which - at least to Frank's knowledge - was a first.
Finally, she told him everything about her first day. She had taught the class with the African men. Most of them had a rudimentary knowledge of English and practically didn't know any German except for the most basic words like 'Hallo' or 'Danke'. They had been living at the refugee center for 3 months and hadn't seen any German instructor or anything like it until Sandra came.
Sandra told Frank it was a very positive surprise for her to find all her students to be very polite and attentive. Although she had to admit that at first, it was a strange feeling to stand in front of those black, exotically-looking men, she quickly felt quite comfortable around them and was sure she'd be able to get them to a decent level of German in a few months. The only little downer for her was the fact that the other class with Syrian mothers and children had been cancelled, because there just hadn't been enough participants.
Frank was glad that everything was going smoothly, and over the next two weeks, that impression he got was confirmed by Sandra's reports about the good atmosphere with her new students and the eagerness with which they seemed to be willing to learn the language.
The next week came, and on Monday evening (Sandra was giving class every Monday and Thursday evening), Frank was lying on the couch, waiting for Sandra. He had had Dinner by himself, because Sandra had called and told him she would be having dinner with her students since they had prepared some typically African meals they wanted her to taste after dinner as a thank you for her efforts.
Frank looked up when he finally heard Sandra enter the house and enter the living-room. In her hand, she was carrying a red rose.
"Hi honey," Frank said, giving Sandra a questioning look upon catching sight of the flower.
"Hi, love," Sandra said. She must have interpreted his view correctly, because she went straight on, "I know this looks strange, and trust me, it really does feel so too!"
"Why would you say that?" Frank went on with a teasing tone. "Because a wife returns to her husband in the evening, carrying a rose after a dinner date with ten other men?" He was trying to sound as confident and fun as possible while he was dying inside to know what that was about.
Sandra sat down next to him and took off her coat. She was still wearing her usual teaching outfit like on the first day with her blouse buttoned up, revealing almost none cleavage at all.
"This was a gift," Sandra started to explain. "A gift from Abam."
"Abam," Frank raised an eyebrow. "I've never heard of him."
"He's a 24-year-old refugee from Ghana," Sandra said. "He's come to Europe, because he didn't have any family in Ghana and he got into trouble with the local police. He said that he then had to flee the country, because he feared he would never be allowed to live without harassment, because of the corruption there. So he opted to seek his happiness in a rich country."
"Alright," Frank said, sensing a little tension in his wife "that explains why he's here, but not why that rose is in your hand."
"Well, I've got it in my hand, because after this evening's African dinner - which was amazing, by the way, - Abam ran after me when I was returning to my car. He was carrying this rose and handed it to me. He... He told me that he wanted to express his gratitude and that..." Sandra paused, "that he wanted to give me something special because I was the most beautiful woman for him..."
Sandra looked at Frank, biting her lip. He knew it made her feel uncomfortable and she was trying to explain it all without making him upset. Should he be? Should he really be upset about a man that was about five years younger than them presenting his wife with a single rose? Just because he seemed to have a little crush on her like the crushes many students have on their teachers?
Frank laughed and gave his wife a kiss on her forehead. "Well, I can't blame that poor guy for telling the truth. You truly are the most beautiful woman there is."
Sandra smiled. "I'd hoped you wouldn't make a fuzz about this, thank you."
"No worries," Frank gave her a wink. "So, how was the kiss then?"
"Kiss?!" Sandra asked, obviously in shock.
"Yeah, the kiss," Frank calmly went on, "when a date ends, and the girl gets flowers, there's a kiss, right?"
"We didn't do anything of the sort!" Sandra blasted out.
It wasn't until Frank started laughing that she understood he was making a joke.
"Haha, very funny!" Sandra hissed. "Maybe I should really kiss him, if this happens again. Maybe you won't make fun of me then!" With that, she got up and stormed off to the bedroom.
When Frank finally got to bed half an hour later, he found Sandra lying on her back and still awake, dressed in a short, white nightgown, revealing a lot of cleavage. He stripped down to his boxers and joined her.
"Are you still mad, darling?" Frank asked her.
"No, silly," Sandra laughed, "but you always know how to push my buttons! I'm still so glad that you reacted so cool about this. Speaking of the students: I have to tell you something else though, and that's a real bummer."
"Hit me," Frank said and sat up.
"You know, Anna's teaching refugee's too, right?" Sandra began to which Frank nodded. "Well, Abam told me that she's been having affairs with at least two of her African students..."
"Hold on!" Frank interjected, "She's been having sex with those refugees?"
"Yep," Sandra went on, "I couldn't believe it myself. However, lucky as I am, I encountered her on the way to my car. We said hi, and she told me she had prepared something in another classroom. You know me, I can't beat around the bush." Frank laughingly nodded. "And so I just asked her if what I'd heard was true, and she said yes."
"Dear lord," Frank couldn't believe it, "why on Earth would she do that? She's married and has two *******, for God's sake! Why the hell would she risk that for some ordinary sex?!"
"Well, she confessed to me that she just succumbed to the constant and very romantic advances of those students," Sandra seemingly tried to defend her colleague. "I mean, they surely know how to flirt with women and make them feel super special and important. Maybe she's just given in in a moment of weakness and doesn't know how to get out..."
Frank looked at his wife curiously, "Am I mistaken, or are you actually defending that woman's cheating?"
"No, not in the slightest!" Sandra protested. "I'm just trying to understand, not to defend. I'd never allow myself to give in to such advances, especially not behind your back!"
"So you're saying you like those advances?" Frank asked suspiciously.
"No... I mean, "Sandra said, "every woman likes to get positive attention like roses or compliments. However, I'd never act on that!"
Frank felt the sincerity in his wife and decided not to push it further.
"I believe you, darling," he said, "and I'm not mad about the rose or anything. Just promise me to be careful, alright? Especially around this Adam guy."
"It's Abam," Sandra corrected him, "but thank you, honey! I wouldn't ever betray your trust!"
They kissed each other good night and went to sleep.
While Sandra's deep breathing could be heard quite fast, Frank was having trouble falling asleep. He couldn't get the image of that Anna having sex with a tall, African guy out of his head. He soon found himself getting hard, imagining whether it was true what they said about black men and their cock sizes.
His mind wandered to his wife and that Abam. How did he look like? He couldn't picture him, so his mind presented him with a tall and muscular black man wearing jeans and a white shirt. His head was crowned with curly, black hair and he was holding flowers in his hands, presenting them to Sandra, standing there with an open blouse.
Frank started to masturbate as his mind went on to show him how Sandra was there, bent over a desk with Aba, standing behind her. He had pulled down her jeans and panties, and he was fucking her. In Sandra's hand, there was a red rose.
Frank suddenly came hard inside his boxers. Experiencing pure post-orgasm clarity, he immediately felt ashamed for what he had just thought about, took off his wet underwear and went to sleep.
Two weeks went by, and nothing special had happened. Their everyday life continued and business as usual had taken over once more. However, Frank couldn't get the image of Anna or his wife having sex with a black man out of his head. It even went so far as to urge him to masturbate to it daily. When the images in his head weren't enough for him anymore, Frank even went a step further and began watching amateur interracial sex videos online while jacking off.
His newly-found appetite for sex, however, wasn't only beneficial for him but for Sandra also. She seemed to gladly welcome the frequent rate of sex, not knowing about her husband's motivation.
This went on until that fateful night in February, when Sandra came home late from teaching at the refugee center. After she had joined Frank in bed, she was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling.
Frank, immediately aware that something must have happened, asked her, "Darling, what's wrong?"
Sandra kept looking up. "Do you remember me talking about celebrating Ebo's birthday this evening?"
"Yeah, I do," Frank said, "you said you were all having a little celebration with him. You even brought some beer. What happened?"
"We did celebrate," Sandra continued. "We had some food, some beer, the atmosphere was very friendly. And then we danced. I showed them some typical European dances at first. It was rather funny, because they would always dance with each other after I had showed them how. But then..." Sandra exhaled, "then they insisted on showing me some African dancing. It was very cool, rhythmical, with quite some movement in the hips and so on..."
Frank was hanging on her every word, simultaneously loving and hating where this all was going. Of course he was jealous, but he also felt some strange arousal, fed by his current fantasies, making his cock grow.
"Then I danced with Abam," Sandra paused again. "You know Abam seems to like me even more than the others, and after two beers he was quite tipsy already. His hands constantly wandered down to touch my butt. I tried to remove them several times, but eventually, I just gave up and let them remain there. That wasn't all though... He was constantly grinding his... thing... into me, and it just grew and grew! As soon as the dance was over, I excused myself and said goodbye to everyone..."
Sandra turned her head and looked directly into his eyes, seemingly pleading for a response.
Frank knew the obvious reaction should have been being upset and angry. He should have told Sandra to stop that refugee stuff, because as things were, it was a recipe for disaster. There was a tiny but grave problem, though: Frank's cock. It had come alive, and it didn't mind that events at all. On the contrary: it wanted more.
Frank moved closer to his wife and before she knew it, his hand had found a way inside her jeans and onto her panties. She gasped has his probing fingers didn't only find a wet spot but her panties drenched in her juices.
"Now look at that," Frank looked Sandra in the eyes as his fingers pushed her panties aside and touched her dripping pussy, "you enjoyed that dance with Abam, didn't you?"
Sandra seemed to protest, but her lower body quickly obeyed the command of her husband's invading fingers. "I... I...," she stammered, "I might have gotten a little excited."
Sandra moaned loudly when two of his fingers entered her.
"You liked his cock against your crotch, didn't you?" Frank went on.
"Oh my god!" Sandra moaned. "Yeah, it felt good."
Frank used his free hand to slip out of his boxers, revealing his erection. He placed his wife's hand around his throbbing flesh.
"Was it bigger than mine?" he whispered in her ear.
"It was," Sandra exhaled as she started jacking her husband off. "It felt much bigger through his trousers!"
Hearing his wife confess that made Frank even wilder. "Do you want so see what they do with such cocks?"
"What do you mean?" Sandra moaned as Frank touched her sweet spot.
Frank, driven by lust, let go of his turned on wife and got the laptop from the desk, turned it on and placed it before his wife. He quickly found his favorite video, a clip of an amateur wife fucking a black lover in a hotel room, and clicked on play. Having done that, Frank took off Sandra's jeans and panties, lay behind her and started finger-fucking her again.
"Oh my sweet lord," Sandra hissed when she saw the mighty black cock disappear in the white woman's pussy, "how can she take that?"
byArchie89
"I'd like to volunteer to help at our local refugee center."
Sandra's words, spoken out of the blue, abruptly ended Frank's little monologue he had been giving, commenting the piece of news about a horribly looking refugee camp they were showing on TV during the refugee crisis in Europe in early 2016.
"What, my love?" Frank immediately reacted. "You'd like to do what?"
"I'd like to help!" Sandra answered. "I can't take this anymore. Here we are, watching those poor people arrive in Europe day by day, arguing about whether they should be here in the first place, whether they should be deported, whether they should be given anything, et cetera, et cetera!"
Sandra shifted on the sofa to face her husband, catching his eyes with a severe look on her face. If Frank knew one thing about his loving wife of 3 years, it was that look that told him she wasn't kidding, and he would be well-advised to take her seriously.
"I want to do something, Frank!" Sandra went on. "I want to do something instead of talk all the time! Maybe those useless politicians come up with a solution for this mess, but until then, we need to get active! Those poor people have come to us, and they're going to stay here for quite a while, no matter whether they're here legally or not."
Frank held his wife's gaze and thought about what she had just said. Although they both had always been on the rather conservative side of the political landscape, they agreed that Germany did the right thing when they didn't close their borders back in 2015, preventing a humanitarian crisis in poorer European countries where hundreds of thousands of refugees and migrants would have faced the cold, hunger and thirst.
The couple had lived in the German town of Kaiserfurt, Sandra's hometown, for about two and a half years now. Two teacher salaries enabled them to build a nice, medium-sized house, buy two cars and two well-deserved holidays a year. There weren't any ******* yet, and if it were up to Frank, there wouldn't be any until they turned 30. Life was good for them, and they were thankful for it.
"Well, that would be quite an act of charity, my love," Frank answered after some time of contemplation. "What do you have in mind exactly?"
"Well, do you remember me telling you that Anna, our primary school's vice principal, has already started giving volunteer German language classes in the refugee center?" Sandra told him in an excited manner. "I would like to help her! Speaking German is essential to live in this country, and I can't think of a better way to help those people to integrate into our society, to get a job and to simply manage German everyday life."
Frank didn't see any reason why that wasn't a good idea and gave his wife his okay. Two days passed, and finally, Sandra returned home with some paper work to fill out.
"They said, I could start tomorrow. I'm completely free in how I organize the lessons as long as I aim for standardized goals regarding grammar, spelling, speaking and writing." Sandra told Frank euphorically. "Anna's already set up two classes with 10 students each for me, and I should be teaching them at least twice a week for about two hours per lesson."
"Do you think you're up for that?" Frank asked her with a touch of concern. "Can you handle job, private life and your new responsibilities?"
"Yes, Frank," Sandra laughed. "How many times have I told you: unlike you, I'm a primary school teacher. If I can manage that adorable bunch of little monsters, I think I'm up for pretty much any task in the world. And don't you worry, I'm going to make sure to keep everything in the right balance."
Sandra came over to him, standing next to the kitchen table, and hugged him. Her embrace, her lovely smell and the feeling of her slender body against his had always made him feel like he was in heaven, accompanied by an angel.
"And what about security?" Frank asked, holding her in his arms. "Is it safe there? I know they preferably show footage of little children on TV, but many say it's predominantly young men coming here."
"Don't you worry," Sandra said, giving him a kiss on his cheek, "there's a security service in the facility at all times, and their main post is just outside the classroom. And as for the other issue: one of my classes consists of Syrian mothers and their children and the other of male refugees from sub-Saharan Africa, predominantly Ghana."
The thought of his petite wife being alone in a room with 10 African men suddenly caused concern in Frank, but his wife assured him that her safety was guaranteed by the security team, and they had been instructed to be close by at all lessons.
Frank decided not to overthink it all. Women across the country had been volunteering to help refugees for months now, and so far, Frank hadn't heard of any major incident about a volunteer worker and a refugee in one of the facilities.
Sandra remained in a particularly good mood for the rest of the day. She was always coming up with new ideas what to teach and how to do it, and eventually, the omnipresence of the refugee topic started to annoy Frank a little. That's why he was especially glad when they were finally lying in bed, having great sex. Not only was it particularly good that night since Sandra's overall excitement hadn't diminished, but making his wife moan from the thrusts of his cock also prevented her from going on about that one subject.
Sandra was on all fours with her head resting on a pillow and her firm butt raised high in the air as Frank was pounding her vigorously, causing her full, C-Cup breasts to bounce back and forth. Although he didn't have the biggest cock, he found it easy to make his wife cum using the right technique at the right moment. Pulling her long, red hair, which was bound together to a ponytail, backwards, Frank released all of his cum into the condom he had to use since Sandra didn't really like other forms of birth control.
The next day was a Thursday. It came and passed just as normally as any other. After work, Frank left the local high school, went home and prepared some lessons for next week. He had sent Sara a message whishing her good luck with her first lesson and telling her there would be her favorite dish from the Chinese delivery service waiting for her when she would return.
The delivery guy had just left, and Frank had just finished setting up the table for dinner, when Sandra came back. She put all the bags with her teaching material on the floor, got out of her coat and greeted her husband with a kiss.
"Hi darling," Frank said. "How was it? Are you alright?"
"Hey, my love," Sandra answered, "it was very good! I'd like to tell you all about it later though, because I'm literally starving!"
They didn't waste any time, sat down at the table in the living-room and enjoyed their meals. Sandra was wearing a casual outfit consisting of a dark green blouse, blue skinny jeans and white sneakers. Her lovely red hair had been bound to a ponytail again.
Sandra really must have been starving, because she finished her meal before Frank did, which - at least to Frank's knowledge - was a first.
Finally, she told him everything about her first day. She had taught the class with the African men. Most of them had a rudimentary knowledge of English and practically didn't know any German except for the most basic words like 'Hallo' or 'Danke'. They had been living at the refugee center for 3 months and hadn't seen any German instructor or anything like it until Sandra came.
Sandra told Frank it was a very positive surprise for her to find all her students to be very polite and attentive. Although she had to admit that at first, it was a strange feeling to stand in front of those black, exotically-looking men, she quickly felt quite comfortable around them and was sure she'd be able to get them to a decent level of German in a few months. The only little downer for her was the fact that the other class with Syrian mothers and children had been cancelled, because there just hadn't been enough participants.
Frank was glad that everything was going smoothly, and over the next two weeks, that impression he got was confirmed by Sandra's reports about the good atmosphere with her new students and the eagerness with which they seemed to be willing to learn the language.
The next week came, and on Monday evening (Sandra was giving class every Monday and Thursday evening), Frank was lying on the couch, waiting for Sandra. He had had Dinner by himself, because Sandra had called and told him she would be having dinner with her students since they had prepared some typically African meals they wanted her to taste after dinner as a thank you for her efforts.
Frank looked up when he finally heard Sandra enter the house and enter the living-room. In her hand, she was carrying a red rose.
"Hi honey," Frank said, giving Sandra a questioning look upon catching sight of the flower.
"Hi, love," Sandra said. She must have interpreted his view correctly, because she went straight on, "I know this looks strange, and trust me, it really does feel so too!"
"Why would you say that?" Frank went on with a teasing tone. "Because a wife returns to her husband in the evening, carrying a rose after a dinner date with ten other men?" He was trying to sound as confident and fun as possible while he was dying inside to know what that was about.
Sandra sat down next to him and took off her coat. She was still wearing her usual teaching outfit like on the first day with her blouse buttoned up, revealing almost none cleavage at all.
"This was a gift," Sandra started to explain. "A gift from Abam."
"Abam," Frank raised an eyebrow. "I've never heard of him."
"He's a 24-year-old refugee from Ghana," Sandra said. "He's come to Europe, because he didn't have any family in Ghana and he got into trouble with the local police. He said that he then had to flee the country, because he feared he would never be allowed to live without harassment, because of the corruption there. So he opted to seek his happiness in a rich country."
"Alright," Frank said, sensing a little tension in his wife "that explains why he's here, but not why that rose is in your hand."
"Well, I've got it in my hand, because after this evening's African dinner - which was amazing, by the way, - Abam ran after me when I was returning to my car. He was carrying this rose and handed it to me. He... He told me that he wanted to express his gratitude and that..." Sandra paused, "that he wanted to give me something special because I was the most beautiful woman for him..."
Sandra looked at Frank, biting her lip. He knew it made her feel uncomfortable and she was trying to explain it all without making him upset. Should he be? Should he really be upset about a man that was about five years younger than them presenting his wife with a single rose? Just because he seemed to have a little crush on her like the crushes many students have on their teachers?
Frank laughed and gave his wife a kiss on her forehead. "Well, I can't blame that poor guy for telling the truth. You truly are the most beautiful woman there is."
Sandra smiled. "I'd hoped you wouldn't make a fuzz about this, thank you."
"No worries," Frank gave her a wink. "So, how was the kiss then?"
"Kiss?!" Sandra asked, obviously in shock.
"Yeah, the kiss," Frank calmly went on, "when a date ends, and the girl gets flowers, there's a kiss, right?"
"We didn't do anything of the sort!" Sandra blasted out.
It wasn't until Frank started laughing that she understood he was making a joke.
"Haha, very funny!" Sandra hissed. "Maybe I should really kiss him, if this happens again. Maybe you won't make fun of me then!" With that, she got up and stormed off to the bedroom.
When Frank finally got to bed half an hour later, he found Sandra lying on her back and still awake, dressed in a short, white nightgown, revealing a lot of cleavage. He stripped down to his boxers and joined her.
"Are you still mad, darling?" Frank asked her.
"No, silly," Sandra laughed, "but you always know how to push my buttons! I'm still so glad that you reacted so cool about this. Speaking of the students: I have to tell you something else though, and that's a real bummer."
"Hit me," Frank said and sat up.
"You know, Anna's teaching refugee's too, right?" Sandra began to which Frank nodded. "Well, Abam told me that she's been having affairs with at least two of her African students..."
"Hold on!" Frank interjected, "She's been having sex with those refugees?"
"Yep," Sandra went on, "I couldn't believe it myself. However, lucky as I am, I encountered her on the way to my car. We said hi, and she told me she had prepared something in another classroom. You know me, I can't beat around the bush." Frank laughingly nodded. "And so I just asked her if what I'd heard was true, and she said yes."
"Dear lord," Frank couldn't believe it, "why on Earth would she do that? She's married and has two *******, for God's sake! Why the hell would she risk that for some ordinary sex?!"
"Well, she confessed to me that she just succumbed to the constant and very romantic advances of those students," Sandra seemingly tried to defend her colleague. "I mean, they surely know how to flirt with women and make them feel super special and important. Maybe she's just given in in a moment of weakness and doesn't know how to get out..."
Frank looked at his wife curiously, "Am I mistaken, or are you actually defending that woman's cheating?"
"No, not in the slightest!" Sandra protested. "I'm just trying to understand, not to defend. I'd never allow myself to give in to such advances, especially not behind your back!"
"So you're saying you like those advances?" Frank asked suspiciously.
"No... I mean, "Sandra said, "every woman likes to get positive attention like roses or compliments. However, I'd never act on that!"
Frank felt the sincerity in his wife and decided not to push it further.
"I believe you, darling," he said, "and I'm not mad about the rose or anything. Just promise me to be careful, alright? Especially around this Adam guy."
"It's Abam," Sandra corrected him, "but thank you, honey! I wouldn't ever betray your trust!"
They kissed each other good night and went to sleep.
While Sandra's deep breathing could be heard quite fast, Frank was having trouble falling asleep. He couldn't get the image of that Anna having sex with a tall, African guy out of his head. He soon found himself getting hard, imagining whether it was true what they said about black men and their cock sizes.
His mind wandered to his wife and that Abam. How did he look like? He couldn't picture him, so his mind presented him with a tall and muscular black man wearing jeans and a white shirt. His head was crowned with curly, black hair and he was holding flowers in his hands, presenting them to Sandra, standing there with an open blouse.
Frank started to masturbate as his mind went on to show him how Sandra was there, bent over a desk with Aba, standing behind her. He had pulled down her jeans and panties, and he was fucking her. In Sandra's hand, there was a red rose.
Frank suddenly came hard inside his boxers. Experiencing pure post-orgasm clarity, he immediately felt ashamed for what he had just thought about, took off his wet underwear and went to sleep.
Two weeks went by, and nothing special had happened. Their everyday life continued and business as usual had taken over once more. However, Frank couldn't get the image of Anna or his wife having sex with a black man out of his head. It even went so far as to urge him to masturbate to it daily. When the images in his head weren't enough for him anymore, Frank even went a step further and began watching amateur interracial sex videos online while jacking off.
His newly-found appetite for sex, however, wasn't only beneficial for him but for Sandra also. She seemed to gladly welcome the frequent rate of sex, not knowing about her husband's motivation.
This went on until that fateful night in February, when Sandra came home late from teaching at the refugee center. After she had joined Frank in bed, she was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling.
Frank, immediately aware that something must have happened, asked her, "Darling, what's wrong?"
Sandra kept looking up. "Do you remember me talking about celebrating Ebo's birthday this evening?"
"Yeah, I do," Frank said, "you said you were all having a little celebration with him. You even brought some beer. What happened?"
"We did celebrate," Sandra continued. "We had some food, some beer, the atmosphere was very friendly. And then we danced. I showed them some typical European dances at first. It was rather funny, because they would always dance with each other after I had showed them how. But then..." Sandra exhaled, "then they insisted on showing me some African dancing. It was very cool, rhythmical, with quite some movement in the hips and so on..."
Frank was hanging on her every word, simultaneously loving and hating where this all was going. Of course he was jealous, but he also felt some strange arousal, fed by his current fantasies, making his cock grow.
"Then I danced with Abam," Sandra paused again. "You know Abam seems to like me even more than the others, and after two beers he was quite tipsy already. His hands constantly wandered down to touch my butt. I tried to remove them several times, but eventually, I just gave up and let them remain there. That wasn't all though... He was constantly grinding his... thing... into me, and it just grew and grew! As soon as the dance was over, I excused myself and said goodbye to everyone..."
Sandra turned her head and looked directly into his eyes, seemingly pleading for a response.
Frank knew the obvious reaction should have been being upset and angry. He should have told Sandra to stop that refugee stuff, because as things were, it was a recipe for disaster. There was a tiny but grave problem, though: Frank's cock. It had come alive, and it didn't mind that events at all. On the contrary: it wanted more.
Frank moved closer to his wife and before she knew it, his hand had found a way inside her jeans and onto her panties. She gasped has his probing fingers didn't only find a wet spot but her panties drenched in her juices.
"Now look at that," Frank looked Sandra in the eyes as his fingers pushed her panties aside and touched her dripping pussy, "you enjoyed that dance with Abam, didn't you?"
Sandra seemed to protest, but her lower body quickly obeyed the command of her husband's invading fingers. "I... I...," she stammered, "I might have gotten a little excited."
Sandra moaned loudly when two of his fingers entered her.
"You liked his cock against your crotch, didn't you?" Frank went on.
"Oh my god!" Sandra moaned. "Yeah, it felt good."
Frank used his free hand to slip out of his boxers, revealing his erection. He placed his wife's hand around his throbbing flesh.
"Was it bigger than mine?" he whispered in her ear.
"It was," Sandra exhaled as she started jacking her husband off. "It felt much bigger through his trousers!"
Hearing his wife confess that made Frank even wilder. "Do you want so see what they do with such cocks?"
"What do you mean?" Sandra moaned as Frank touched her sweet spot.
Frank, driven by lust, let go of his turned on wife and got the laptop from the desk, turned it on and placed it before his wife. He quickly found his favorite video, a clip of an amateur wife fucking a black lover in a hotel room, and clicked on play. Having done that, Frank took off Sandra's jeans and panties, lay behind her and started finger-fucking her again.
"Oh my sweet lord," Sandra hissed when she saw the mighty black cock disappear in the white woman's pussy, "how can she take that?"
