What in the hell am I doing here? I asked myself as I stood on the stage, under a bright spotlight as I looked around the room of men in plush tiered seats lustfully staring at me. A few women in those seats too, a couple of them had that same stare, a couple of others were with their men and were less interested. And then there was me.

I was in a gossamer sheer gold gown, and under the bright spotlight caused my covering to all but disappeared, revealing my naked body underneath. I glanced over at Edward, sophisticated, worldly and so British Edward, the reason I was on this stage tonight. I wanted to fuck him, I wanted to fuck him badly, and he wanted to fuck me. He would be the second cock inside me other than my husband's since the day we were married -15 years ago.

I was not uncomfortable being under the spotlight and the center of the attention-Those hours in the gym had me in good shape, and there was excitement in the realization of the daring I was exhibiting, light years away from my everyday existence of soccer mom and wife. This moment was thrilling, my skin was tingling, with a throbbing of anticipation I knew was soaking my pussy, but there was still that question in my mind, how did things come to this?

I was one of 15 women on the program tonight, 14^th person in line. My husband, a professional auctioneer, was at the podium ready for the auction to begin, ready to drop the hammer on selling his wife to the highest bidder. I could see him fidgeting, an indication he was having second thoughts and choking. He paused for a drink of water.

My desire for Edward overcame the shy inhibited soccer mom me, and in a moment of pure lust, asked my husband for a hall pass. I have a good husband, open-minded too, but I knew I had to handle it delicately.

Robert is a man with jealousies, after all. Rather than approach the subject directly, I suggested I join the auction, and Edward could win me by outbidding everyone else. The fact that Edward thought my being auctioned and him buying my time was an extra personal kink of his made it even more exciting.

I correctly suspected that since my husband would be the auctioneer, and his constant pushing that I be less inhibited that the excitement of doing something so crazy as auctioning the charms of your wife for a pre-determined amount of time gave him a rush too.

The auction had sold the time and sexual services of thirteen women to the leering gallery holding their bidding cards. Each woman was whisked away by her winning bidder. Now it was my turn. I shivered as I heard my husband's words.

"Do I have an opening bid for 30 sex filled days with this beautiful wife?"

 

***

 

We stepped outside. The night was chilly, hardening my nipples, and thankfully the other men crowding around blocked the wind and somewhat concealed me from public view with me nude under a sheer covering. A limo pulled up.

"That's us," Latrelle said, opening the door for me, which was surprising. The men hung back, and I climbed in. "Give us a minute," Latrelle said, closing the door. I was shaking, and he picked up on it. "OK, Fourteen, we have 30 days together, and we need to come to a meeting of the minds right now. Now you know you can bail at any time, but if you do, you must pay back what you have received, and also, there will be a $25,000 penalty. Do you have $25,000 to waste?"

I shook my head, no. "Most people don't," he said. "So you should look at this as an opportunity to make $55,000 rather than cost yourself $25,000. Does that make sense to you?"

"Yes," I finally was able to speak, my fear easing, as at least he was making sense.

"Did you express any conditions tonight, before the auction, during the inspection?"

"No." I did not tell him I had chosen not to do that, thinking that Edward, who I trusted, would be buying me, with Robert's permission. My hotwife game has gone awry.

"And you knew sex is a big part of these 30 days? In fact, the primary reason that men like me would pay that much money?"

"Yes," I said again.

"Now I don't know you," Latrelle said, "And you don't know me. And from the way you were swapping glances with that asshole Brit down the front, I think this evening went different than you expected, and you do not know what to expect? Maybe even a little afraid? You weren't expect you would be purchased by a black man, Did you?"

"Precisely," I said.

"I think you are smoking hot. I wanted you the moment I saw you, and I think we can have one hell of a good time. I like white women, especially white married women.

I can tell you there is nothing to fear from me, but you will be doing sexual things that you may never have done before. One of my favorite things is to introduce women to new things.

"This is not the time to be a prude. I can promise by the end of these 30 days, modesty and prudishness are going to be things you are going to wonder why you hung on to for so long.

But this is not going to go well if you resist, whine, cry, get passive-aggressive, and do not give yourself over to me for the next 30 days. You will come to no harm, but you will have some great fucking, that I can promise. You will have a sexual adventure you never dreamed possible. I need you to commit to that, as you were supposed to do when you went on stage. I'm asking you to tell me, eye to eye, personally, that you are in this with me."

I looked up into his dark eyes, and smiling face, and everything he said was logical-in this most illogical moment. "OK, I'm good. I was just a little shocked at how it turned out." He said nothing, staring. "And I'm in this with you."

"Damn right," he said, opening the door, turning to the other black men with him. "You all get in, brothers, we have a celebration."