MY INSATIABLE WIFE: a sweet cuckold romance

by POLLY ANDREA BUSCH

  “I need to use the bathroom,” she said.

  “You can when we’re done,” I said, sucking Tyrone’s seed out of her slick cunt. I knew that she wanted to slip her diaphragm inside and I wasn’t going to give her the opportunity. I got on top of her, slipped all five inches inside of her and began thrusting wildly. Beth was very drunk, nearly passed out as I fucked her spent body. After a few minutes I felt that magical feeling approaching. I pounded her harder, faster, and when I hit my climax I pushed in as deep as possible. Although I didn’t have the large size cock of her lovers and couldn’t shoot my sperm directly into her womb, I spurted a dab of my seed inside of her. Just as I was pulling out for another thrust, I felt Beth grabbing my cock. As I pulled out for another thrust, she pulled up on my penis and it plopped out of her. Beth was moaning, “oh yes, baby, that’s right,” as my cock finished spurting on top of her landing strip, her hand masturbating my cock as I penetrated her hand, my seed landing harmlessly on her belly. She turned and kissed me, then she cuddled as she fell asleep.

  As I lay next to her, I felt proud knowing that I’d managed to get a shot at impregnating her. Sure, Tyrone’s sperm had a huge head start. My wife’s womb had been filled with her black lover’s sperm for days. Billions of his African sperm were inside of her at that moment. I’d read about “sperm wars” and I knew that not only were millions of his black sperm searching for her egg right now, but millions of others were already in place, blocking and killing any competitor’s sperm. My odds were very long, but I’d gotten a little squirt of sperm inside of her unprotected, so I was now in the game. As I drifted off to sleep, I pictured my sperm like a handful of proud soldiers storming the beach at Normandy, hopelessly outgunned and outclassed as they fought the impossible fight.

  A few more months and we will know for sure if I’m the father. Beth says that this will be her final baby and she’s getting her tubes tied, and as an extra precaution she’s having me get a vasectomy. We’ve talked about baby names. Beth wants wants to name the baby Shaniqua if it’s a girl and Tyrone if it’s a boy. I’ve heard that they have prenatal DNA tests these days. Do you think she knows something that I don’t know?

  MY SEXY BLACK BOSS

  By Polly Andrea Busch

  Copyright 2015 by Polly Andrea Busch. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or any method including (without limitation) electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This work is a work of fiction. All characters in the work are fictitious and any similarity to any other person, living or dead, real or fictional, is purely coincidental. All characters in this publication are twenty-one years of age or older. All rights reserved.

  * * *

  “Anna, I have some great news,” my boss Brandon said. “I got approval for you to come with me to the conference.”

  “Thank you!” I said. “That’s such an awesome opportunity!”

  “I’m really looking forward to it. We’ll get the chance to know each other better, to spend some time together in Atlanta.”

  I could tell by the twinkle in his eye that he had more in mind than just business.

  I’d been working for Brandon the last four months and there had always been an attraction between us. I’m twenty-three and Brandon is twenty-eight. Although he’s older than me, I’d always felt a strong connection to him since the day I interviewed with him. When I walked into his office that day, he literally took my breath away. Brandon was a director of sales for an up-and-coming technology company, and I was surprised to see that he was a handsome, sexy, heavily-muscled black man. Although he was wearing a suit and tie, I could see some tattoos visible from beneath his clothing. As we talked about the company and my resume, we were both checking each other out. I loved the scent of his body and his spicy cologne. He mentioned that he was a married with four kids, and I had married my husband Anthony just a few months ago, but the attraction between us was undeniable. A few days later, when he called to offer me the job, I was ecstatic.

  Over the four months, I had the chance to work with Brandon and admire his approach. He’s very charismatic and knows how to build and work a relationship. And he’ll do anything to close a deal. When a company needs a deal structured in a certain way to make it happen but it doesn’t fit with the company’s policies, he agrees to it and then works internally to fix the problems he’s created. It’s an unorthodox approach that doesn’t make him seem difficult to his sales team, but he’s one of the three most successful salesmen in the company. And it shows in his expensive clothing, his fine taste in dining and wine, and his luxury sports car that costs about four times what the average employee makes in a year. (His wife, I learned, is a stay-at-home mother and she allows him to spend his money as he likes. I would never allow Anthony to buy a car like that, even if we had that kind of money.)

  One time Brandon took me for a ride in his convertible. It was a beautiful sunny day, and I loved driving through town with the top down, the wind blowing through my hair. I loved the way it accelerated, the raw power bringing his car to full speed in an instant. He reached his hand over and placed it on my thigh. I didn’t move his hand. His touch sent a thrill through my body. Although I knew I was a married woman, my pussy didn’t seem to care – it was wet and aching for him to penetrate me. When we came to a stop light, he leaned over and kissed me. With the top down, anybody could see me and I knew I was taking a huge risk, but I kissed him back, my tongue swirling around his as our mouths made love. It felt like we were in another world until a car honked behind us, Brandon saw the green light and he hit the gas. When he dropped me off back at the office, my panties were so wet that I felt like I’d pissed my pants.

  At home that night, while making love to my husband, I was fantasizing about getting fucked by Brandon. As my hubby licked my pussy, lapping up my juices and flicking his tongue across my erect clit, I imagined Brandon’s powerful black body on top of me, thrusting powerfully inside of me. I came hard, virtually smothering my husband’s face with my pussy as I rode out my pleasure.

  “You really liked that, huh?” Anthony asked, a big grin on his face. He rose from the floor, his soft, pastey-white body standing between my spread legs.

  “Mmmm hmmm,” I moaned. “I really need to feel that cock inside of me.”

  Anthony seemed shocked by my dirty words. His little penis, not quite five inches long, was fully erect. “Here it comes,” he said, not realizing that I was talking about Brandon’s black kielbasa, not his tiny white Vienna sausage. My husband mounted me in the missionary position, and he was moving his body back and forth so his little thing must have been inside of me. I was moaning, fantasizing about Brandon using me, taking me doggy style.

  Anthony and I use the pull-out method for birth control, and as usual he only lasted a few minutes before he pulled out. “Oh God,” he cried, pulling his penis out of me, “I’m gonna come.” Standing on his knees between my legs, he looked like a crazy man as he masturbated his little penis furiously. Seconds later, his little squirt gun shot off, sputtering out a series of white droplets onto my tummy. “Go get a rag and wipe that off,” I instructed him. I lay there, dreaming off Brandon’s hard, cut body and what it must be like to be his wife and get the chance to enjoy him every day.

  So when Brandon told me that I’d get the chance to go with him to Atlanta, I was super excited. Before I left, I bought some sexy lingerie to take with me. When we arrived, I asked about what room I’d be staying in.

  “There’s only one room,” Brandon said. “The company allowed you to come but they won’t reimburse the expenses of anybody below the level of manager. So I paid for your plane ticket and I’ll cover our other expenses, such as dinner. The company reserved me a room, and I figured that to save on expenses, we cou
ld share a hotel room. There’s a couch that pulls into a bed. Is that a problem?”

  I stammered but managed to say, “That’s fine. It would be cheaper that way.”

  “Great.” He handed me a plastic card. “We’re in room 409. Let’s get dressed and hit the town.”

  We put our bags into the room. I got dressed in the bathroom, putting on an evening gown and high heels. Brandon, for his part, wore an expensive Italian suit. We took a taxi out to the Chateau Merienne, one of the most glamorous restaurants in Atlanta, and had an amazing time talking over dinner. Brandon explained that his relationship with his wife was largely platonic. After the birth of their first child, his wife’s sex drive began tapering off and now they only do it about once a month. He told me that he has a strong sex drive and as much as he loves his wife, it’s just not something that she’s able to provide him anymore. He doesn’t want to divorce her but he’s unwilling to continue living this way. He also doesn’t want to cheat but he loves his wife and his marriage enough to get his needs satisfied in whatever way he can. I responded that my sex life with Anthony was never a high point of our relationship, and that he’s a wonderful man but he’s not the kind of guy that women hunger after. The more we spoke, the more I realized that we were two people who loved our spouses and valued our marriages, but also were realistic enough to know that you can’t get everything you need from one person.

  Back at the hotel, we were both a little tipsy. When we stepped inside the room, Brandon immediately began kissing me. I felt butterflies as I kissed him, running my hands up and down his back as he caressed my ass and breasts. My nipples hardened, my pussy moistened, as we undressed each other. He was wearing only his suit pants and kissing me as I lay on the bed in nothing but my lacy red bra and panties. My pussy was damp, the crotch of my panties dark and soaked, as his hands glided across my nearly naked body. Every hair was standing on end as he kissed up my belly to my breasts, undid my bra, and began sucking and licking on my nipples. My clit was swollen, aching for him. As his hand slid up my inner thigh and brushed against my pussy, my body felt electric.

  I wanted to take his cock inside of my mouth. I got up and unzipped his pants, and saw a huge erection pressing against his briefs. When I pulled them down, I was shocked at how large he was. He had to be nine inches long of dark, thick, uncircumcised cock. I’d only seen two penises in my life and both were white, small and circumcised. I took his mighty member in my hands, pulled back the foreskin, and took his head inside of my mouth. Although I seldom perform oral sex on my husband, I wanted desperately to please Brandon, not simply because he was my boss but because he was so sexy, strong, and powerful that he just deserved it. My black lover was moaning his approval and I just loved that, and it encouraged me to give him the best blowjob I possibly could.

  Soon, though, he told me that he’d had enough and told me to get on my hands and knees. I did, and I felt that huge cockhead pushing at the opening of my slick, slippery womanhood. I dropped my head, looking down between my legs, eager to see him penetrate me. He lined it up at my entrance, and with a single push he went all the way inside. I was shocked and felt my eyes pop open. My husband’s penis would take a number of thrusts to enter me and it was just a fraction of the size of Brandon’s enormous cock. But it was my fertile time of the month and my pussy was slick from my ovulation, and I was just so wet for Brandon that he pushed that thing all the way inside. His cock filled me completely, stretching me to the breaking point, and it felt magical as it slipped in and out of me. His hands were holding my hips, my face in the pillow, as I received the most amazing sexual pleasure of my life. I was breathing heavily, moaning uncontrollably, as we fucked. We changed position into the woman superior, and I loved being able to see his face and chiseled chest as I rode him. I leaned down and we kissed uncontrollably. I knew that I didn’t love him, that what I was feeling for him was simply animalistic lust, but what I was feeling was powerful and overwhelming, far beyond anything I felt for my husband. He flipped me over into the missionary position, and I could tell by his breathing and his facial expressions that he was approaching his climax. He pounded faster, his cock swelling even larger, and the pleasure I was receiving was immense. I ran my hands up and down his sweaty black torso, admiring his powerful masculine body.

  “Fuck!” Brandon grunted and pushed his cock deep inside of me. I could feel the tip of his cock pressing against my cervix. I knew that I was ovulating and that I should have made him pull out, as I always did with my husband, but I needed to feel him finish inside of me. My legs were up in the air, locked against him, and I could feel his titan-sized testicles against my ass, jerking as they unloaded countless millions of sperm deep inside my womb. I thought dreamily, “I know I’ll be pregnant,” as he kissed me, his hard member still inside of me as the last of his sperm spilled out to fill me completely.

  The next morning, I awoke to find myself in bed with Brandon. While in the bathroom, I felt a little pinch in my stomach, and I knew that my egg had just dropped. I suddenly felt worried about having allowing him to climax inside of me. My egg was now inside of me, surrounded by hundreds of millions of Brandon’s virile sperm, each one relentless and determined to make a baby in my womb. I decided that I should probably get my own room for rest of the weekend. We got dressed and attended the conference, where we both acted professionally and made some great new contacts and found a couple leads. Having eaten at the conference, we went straight back to the hotel room. Once again we made passionate love, and since I’d already allowed him to climax inside of me, I didn’t see any point in stopping him now. We made love again in the shower, then in the morning, and twice more the next day. When we finally flew home, I was totally sexually exhausted.

  When I met my husband at the airport, he was very happy to see me. “I can’t wait to make love to you,” he said. When we got home, I allowed him to get me into bed. As he ate my pussy, he commented that I tasted different. “I’m just so turned on tonight,” I said. I’d noticed that the clear fluid from my ovulation was gone, but we pulled out a bottle of lubrication and with a few thrusts, he was able to enter me. I never felt much friction from Anthony’s small penis, but tonight I could tell that I was much looser than before. I hoped that he couldn’t notice anything, and if he did he never mentioned it. When he approached his climax, I lifted my legs off the bed, put them up around him and locked my ankles around his waist. Holding him in place, he was unable to pull out, and he looked shocked as he fired his seed inside of me. “It’s okay, honey,” I said, nodding. I put my hands up on his face, pulled him down and kissed him.

  Back at work, Brandon and I did our best to keep things professional. He told me that, although the sex was phenomenal, he loves his wife and doesn’t want to leave her. I told him that I felt the same way about Anthony. A couple of weeks later, I started to feel nauseated. A pregnancy test simply confirmed what I’d already known. When I found out, I told Anthony about what happened on the trip to Atlanta. At first he was angry but he was also excited, and then he masturbated. We agreed that from now on, any lovers I have should be out in the open. I’m now eight months pregnant and I’ve left my job to be a full-time wife and mother. I’m a very light skinned woman with very curly hair and Anthony’s family are dark-skinned Italians, so it shouldn’t be a problem if the baby is darker skinned than me with curly hair. Even if his family complains, I know that Anthony is on my side. The love we have is real and lasting, and he understands that a husband’s children are the children given birth by his wife. I couldn’t ask for a better man.

  CRYSTAL IMPALIN’ ON

  HER BLACK LOVER 1

  By Polly Andrea Busch

  Copyright 2015 by Polly Andrea Busch. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or any method including (without limitation) electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of
brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This work is a work of fiction. All characters in the work are fictitious and any similarity to any other person, living or dead, real or fictional, is purely coincidental. All characters in this publication are twenty-one years of age or older. All rights reserved.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry Josh but I have some bad news,” my fiancée Crystal Lass. We were dining at Eduardo’s Bistro in downtown Birmingham. “I don’t know how to even say this, so I’ll just say it. I’m pregnant.”

  I was totally shocked. Although Crystal is a single mother, having given birth to a bad boy when she was a teenager, I thought she was a changed woman. It was a huge scandal because her mother is Tammy Lass, a conservative Democratic senator from Alabama who used her religious background to help her win in a deep red state. When her mother resigned in disgrace after the out-of-wedlock birth, Crystal said she’d changed. In fact, she was now a national leader of the Christian organization called the “Recycled Sluts,” part of the so-called “revirgination” movement that attempts to get young Evangelical women to stop hooking up with guys on Tinder and wait for marriage. She even went on a bunch of television talk shows and promised that she wouldn’t have sex again until she’s married. And I believed her.

  “But how can you be pregnant?” I asked. “We haven’t had sex. You insisted on waiting for marriage. You said you’ve learned your lesson and you wouldn’t accept any man who didn’t respect you enough to wait for marriage. I don’t get it, Crystal. How can you possibly be pregnant?”

  “Promise me you won’t hate me,” she said, her eyes starting to water. “Promise me.”

  I reached across the table and took her hand in mine. “Of course I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I just don’t understand how this could happen.”