Hysom Zarroug

These Are My Tinder Confessions Pt. 2

Hysom Zarroug
These Are My Tinder Confessions Pt. 2
 

These Are My Tinder Confessions Pt. 2

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Her picture was her wearing just a bra and panties, from knee to neck. Identity concealed, she must mean business. I swiped right, wholly expecting to continue browsing when the “It’s A Match” message popped up on the screen. I dismissed the notification and continued my swiping quest. Minutes later, I received a notification from Tinder. I opened the message to see it was from the incognito woman and read “Do you have a problem with married women?” I pondered the idea for a minute, unsure as to how I should approach the scenario. I responded “No ma’am. I’m no homewrecker but I’m always game for a good time.” She fired back a message that said “Ok, txt me at (___)___-____.” I waited about 15 min, not wanting to seem overly eager, then sent a message. Instantly, I received a reply of pictures of the woman’s face and body for verification purposes. Then she followed up with “Do you mind if my husband watches?” Now let me stop here. We have all seen the pornos with the BBC Bull and the Cuckhold husband watching his wife get rammed, however, it’s not every day this type of scenario is thrown in your lap. I replied “As long as you are both ok with it, yes.” I figured I had avoided police prosecution, fatherhood, and any number of near-misses in traffic, I doubt a cuck is going to be my undoing. We exchanged a few more messages before agreeing on Saturday. She said she would let me know the time closer to the date. On Saturday, I received a txt message from the woman “Are we still on?” I fired back “yes ma’am, just let me know when.” We agreed on 10:45am, which seemed aggressively early, but who am I to judge the timing of a woman in need? I made the trek, about a 20 minute drive, and arrived at the apartment complex. My inner-negro kicked in and I took stock of everything from surveillance cameras to points of entry/exit. The adrenaline made my heart pound and my vision seemed to narrow. “I’m here,” I txted her as I sat in my vehicle. “Apartment 30_, come on in,” she replied. I took my wallet, house keys, and phone out of my pocket so I would have no chance of leaving any evidence behind should I need to exit swiftly. I approached the door, deeply inhaled, then knocked. It opened instantly and my eyes took a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. Her husband had opened the door and he stood about 5’7” maybe 180lbs, not a physical threat by any means. I scanned the room to see the woman seated on the couch in underwear and a t-shirt. She appeared surprised by my stature but smiled warmly when our eyes met. As I took my shoes off by the door, I took note of the cowboy boots and hats neatly arranged in the general vicinity. This cowboy wanted to see his white wife ravaged by BBC and by the power of Allah I was going to make MLK proud. As I stood up and approached the woman, she stood up and greeted me with a handshake, which seemed strangely out of place but was appreciated nonetheless. Her husband said “Are you ready babe?” and she smiled broadly and nodded. She stepped forward and pressed herself against me, kissing me. I took a fleeting glance in the husband’s direction and delved into his wife’s goodies. As she lifted her shirt, I was surprised to see two perfectly perky, pierced nipples. “Oh she with the shits,” I thought to myself as I grabbed a handful of her white ass.  Things progressed steadily and before long she was on all 4’s getting piped from behind. As she moaned in ecstasy, her husband walked to the front of her and got down on his knees and began speaking to her. “You like that baby?” … “Is that what you needed?” … “Take that.” I can’t lie, it was as about as corny as the lines in a porno and the homie lowkey messed up my concentration, but I had a job to do and I soldiered on.  We switched positions multiple times, eventually ending up with her on top of me riding while she told her husband that he “could never” satisfy her this way and that he is “lucky I [she] love you as much as I [she] do.” The whole exchange was a bit much for me, but I focused on those milky titties and her tight walls and was able to tune out the words. As she reached her limits, her husband spoke up and said “We want you to finish on her face.” I looked at him and nodded, she got on her knees in front of me and looked up into my eyes. As I was preparing for the finale, the exchanges started again and severely hindered my mission. “Tell me this is what you want babe. Tell me.” Even she seemed a bit fed up with it and simply snapped “Yes! I’m ready. Give it to me!” So, out of courtesy, I obliged her and painted her face. She gasped in astonishment and glee, while her husband covered his mouth with his hands in shock. Once the deed was done, she handed me a box of wet ones as she licked the corners of her mouth and winked at me. Freaky ass bitch on god. I cleaned up and was getting dressed when I looked up to see her husband kissing her passionately. At that point, I knew I had overstayed my welcome and moved to exit. She called out to me “Thank you!” as I shut the door behind me and walked briskly to my vehicle. It took about 10min for the adrenaline to wear off but when it did, I had the instrumentals going and rapped to myself about fucking other nigga’s bitches. Another successful Tinder escapade and no collateral damage. I smiled wryly to myself and thought “MLK must be hitting the stanky leg in his grave right now. THIS is what he died for.”