I never expected a voodoo doll to wreck my marriage and set my cock throbbing every night. It started the summer Jake came home from college with his roommate Marcus. Marcus was twenty-two, tall, dark-skinned, with that easy smile that made women lean in. My wife Elena was forty-four, still tight from yoga, her ass round and her tits heavy. I saw the way she looked at him the first night he stayed over.
Elena and I had been married twenty years. Our sex life was fine until it wasn't. Then Jake left for a week-long trip with friends, and Marcus stayed behind because his flight was delayed. That first evening Elena cooked dinner, wearing a thin sundress that clung to her hips. Marcus complimented her cooking, his eyes dropping to her cleavage. She blushed and poured more wine.
Later, when I went to bed, I heard them talking in the kitchen. Low voices. Laughter. Then silence. I crept downstairs and saw Marcus standing behind her at the sink, his hands on her waist. She didn't push him away. Instead she leaned back against his chest. His fingers slid under the strap of her dress and pulled it down. Her nipple popped out, dark and hard. He pinched it and she moaned.
I should have stopped it. Instead I watched, my dick already stiff.
The next day Marcus showed me the small cloth doll. "My grandma in Haiti made it," he said. "It's for when you want someone to want you bad. You put a piece of their hair or something on it and speak the words." He laughed like it was a joke, but his eyes stayed on Elena across the yard.
That night Elena came to bed flushed. She climbed on top of me and rode hard, whispering how big Marcus looked in his shorts. I came fast, imagining her saying his name. The next morning she was different. Her skin glowed. She kept touching her lips like she could still feel something there.
By the third night the voodoo had taken hold. Elena told me Marcus had used the doll on her. He pricked it with a pin while thinking of her pussy, and suddenly she couldn't stop thinking about his cock.
She described it to me in detail: thick, veined, curving up, the head fat and purple. She said she had to have it.
I sat in the armchair in our bedroom while she stripped for him. Marcus stood at the foot of the bed, naked, his dick already hard and pointing at her. Elena dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth. She gagged but kept going, spit running down her chin onto her tits. He held her hair and fucked her throat slow.
When he pulled out she climbed onto the bed on all fours, ass up, looking at me. "Watch what he does to your wife," she said. Marcus moved behind her and rubbed the head of his cock along her wet slit. She pushed back, trying to take him. He slapped her ass and told her to beg. She begged. Loud.
He sank into her in one long thrust. Elena's mouth fell open in a silent scream. He started fucking her hard, the bed creaking, her tits swinging. Every stroke made wet sounds. She kept her eyes on me the whole time, telling me how deep he was, how much bigger than me. I pulled my own cock out and stroked, humiliated and harder than I'd ever been.
Marcus flipped her onto her back and hooked her legs over his shoulders. He pounded her until she came, squirting around his shaft. Then he pulled out and shot thick ropes across her belly and tits. She rubbed it into her skin like lotion.
After that it happened every night he was there. Sometimes I joined, licking her pussy while he fucked her mouth. Sometimes I just watched from the corner, the voodoo doll sitting on the dresser like a witness. The spell made her insatiable. She needed his cum in her or on her. She told me she loved being his white married slut.
On the last night before Jake came home, Marcus used the doll one final time. He made Elena ride me while he took her ass. The stretch made her shake and cry out. When he came inside her she clenched around me and I filled her too. We collapsed together, sweat and cum everywhere.
Marcus left the next morning. Elena kissed him at the door for a long time. When she turned back to me her eyes were clear again, but the hunger stayed. We still fuck like animals, and she still tells me stories about Marcus while I eat her out. The voodoo doll sits in our drawer now. Sometimes she takes it out and smiles.
I never told Jake. Some secrets keep a marriage alive in ways love alone can't.
