A piano teacher cheating on me with BBC

My wife works at the Philharmonic and plays the piano. She also sometimes teaches students at their home or those who want to learn, it’s always been a good income. So I didn’t mind. She only had one student recently. Susie and her father lived in a huge apartment in a new neighborhood.

Emily went there three times a week. At first, classes ended at eight, then at nine, then she started coming after 11 PM. She told me that the girl’s father, Klaus, is a respectable black man in his forties, the owner of his own business. He often works late and asked Emily to wait for him to return so Susie wouldn’t be alone at home.

Then I began to notice changes in my wife. Emily began paying more attention to her look before going out. She put on lipstick, put on her best lingerie, and spent more time in front of the mirror. In bed, she also became more passionate, as if something new had awakened within her. When we had sex, she would close her eyes sometimes and move as if recalling other, more powerful sensations.

I began to suspect. The scent of someone else’s men’s perfume on her clothes, the slight marks on her neck that she tried to hide with foundation, her tired but contented gaze. However, there was no direct evidence, and I pushed away thoughts of her cheating on me with a black man.

That evening, she returned almost at midnight. I was awake sitting in the kitchen with tea. I heard the lock click. Emily entered quietly trying not to make any noise. She was wearing the same dark dress she wore when she wanted to look especially attractive. Then she apologized for being late and went into the bedroom.

I entered the bedroom a couple of minutes later. My wife was already undressing, the dress was lying on the bed, and she was standing in pink lace lingerie. I came closer, and she became agitated. I saw a wet spot on her thong. And traces of sperm were trickling down her inner thigh. Apparently there was so much of it that it flowed out without stopping in my wife’s small panties.

I looked at her panties and the traces. Everything became clear to me, even though I’d long suspected it. I felt both pain and arousal.

• Is it Klaus? – I asked in a hoarse voice.

Emily looked down, then nodded slowly.

• Yes. For almost two months now. I went to see him even when Susie was visiting her relatives.

She walked over to the dresser. The panties with those obvious traces were still on her.

• At first it was an accident. We were just talking after class, then we kissed. And then I couldn’t stop. He’s so confident and strong. I feel different with him. And I feel desired.

I silently watched as a little more thick liquid slowly leaked from under the edge of her panties and ran down her leg. Emily didn’t try to wipe it off.

• Do you still love me? – I asked.
• I love you very much! – she answered without hesitation. – But I need it. I can’t refuse what he gives me.

We didn’t sleep until morning. I didn’t shout or make a scene. Instead, I took off those very same panties and saw everything with my own eyes. I saw her slightly swollen lips, the wet sheen, the traces of recent sex. Then I entered her feeling how slippery and hot she still was after another man. My wife moaned louder than usual and whispered to me how Klaus had fucked her with his black cock pinning her against the piano.

Nothing has changed since then. She continues to visit Susie three times a week. Sometimes she returns clean and fresh, sometimes with obvious marks. I’ve learned to recognize this state by her gait, the sparkle in her eyes, and the way she clenches her thighs when she enters the apartment.

I’ve become a husband who knows his wife regularly has sex with someone else. And, strangely enough, it hasn’t ruined our marriage. Every time she gets ready to «go to class», I kiss her goodbye and wait. I wait for my wife to return, a little different, a little tired, and still smelling of another man.