MY INSATIABLE WIFE: a sweet cuckold romance

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MY INSATIABLE WIFE: a sweet cuckold romance Page 58

by POLLY ANDREA BUSCH


  I stood there aiming carefully, knowing that the stakes were high. I pictured the dart flying through the air and hitting the edge of the condom wrapper near the bulls eye. Staring intensely, my muscles tense, I held my breath and made the first throw.

  Bap! The dart completely missed the board, hitting the wall.

  “Aww, honey,” Paige said, hugging me from behind. “It was a good try.” I heard Allonzo snicker.

  Again I aimed. My last throw was low and to the right, so I aimed at a condom that was high and to the left. I took my time and then threw.

  Pop! The dart hit the board but just missed the condom I’d aimed at.

  “Damn,” Allonzo said. “You almost had it!”

  “It’s your final throw, honey,” Paige said, her arm now wrapped around Allonzo’s waist. “You’d better make this one count.”

  With all I had, I aimed at condoms in the middle of the board. I felt a pit in my stomach just thinking of Allonzo pushing his black cock deep inside of my wife, his cock spurting a stream of white baby batter right into my wife’s womb. I leaned back and made the throw.

  It went right through the side of one of the condoms.

  “You did it!” Paige said excitedly, running over to the wall. “I guess we’re going to have to use--” She turned and looked back at me. “Uh oh, it went through the condom.” I walked up and felt the circle inside. The dart had hit at a slight angle and the tip went inside the ring, right through the rubber.

  “Are you sure it’s broken?” I asked.

  Paige ripped open the wrapper. Sure enough, it was completely ruined, just a ring of rubber.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Paige said. “You came really close!”

  “Maybe next time,” Allonzo said with a smirk.

  “Bye honey,” Paige said, waving as they left the house, Allonzo’s hand on her ass.

  Over the weekend, Paige and Allonzo had sex three times, all at his place. I asked her if she would allow me to watch but she said she didn’t feel comfortable doing that. But she allowed me to eat her pussy to orgasm in between her meetings with him. “You’d better suck it all out of me if you don’t want to have a black baby,” she said. Her pussy was slick with her lover’s white cream, and it tasted salty and spunky but not too bad.

  Of course, Paige didn’t allow me to have intercourse with her that weekend because she was fertile and we use timing for birth control, but she had me lay down and gave me a nice hand job after I ate her out. I was so turned on by knowing that she was filled with her black lover’s sperm that my cum fired nearly a foot in the air like a roman candle, with spunklet drops landing all over her hands.

  Next weekend she’s going to see Allonzo again. She says that he’s the best lover she’s ever had, with the largest cock so far. Although she loved letting him ride her bareback, she pointed out that I’ll get three more dart throws before their next date. Of course, she thinks I’ll miss again. But what she doesn’t know is that I’ve been practicing and I’ve gotten a whole lot better. I think Allonzo will be using at least one condom next weekend!

  THE REALITY SHOW

  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.

  * * *

  “Hi Jordan!” my fiancée Abby exclaimed, running into my arms. “I missed you so much!”

  I’d missed her greatly over the last few months when she was filming a season of “Tropical Temptation,” where four attractive twenty-something women in committed relationships were put together with four handsome, sexy single guys at a vacation home in San Diego.

  Abby is a beautiful young brunette. She’s always getting hit on, so I wasn’t surprised that the producers were interested in her. But the competition was strong and the odds of any one person being selected weren’t great.

  When I found out that Abby had made the cut, I was happy for her but I did have mixed emotions. I knew it was a fantastic opportunity but at the same time, I didn’t want to go nearly three months without seeing her and have her getting drunk and partying with a bunch of horny, sexy womanizers. Especially since I know how wild and uninhibited Abby can get when she’s had some drinks.

  I knew I had to be supportive, though, so I told her that I trusted her. Abby assured me that she wouldn’t cheat. But as she was packing her things to leave, I noticed that she was taking her birth control pills with her. When I confronted her about it, she said, “I wasn’t even thinking. You’re right, honey, I won’t need them because I won’t be having sex,” and she handed them to me. As we finished packing her stuff into my SUV, I felt a lot better about things. If she wasn’t on birth control, I thought, surely she wouldn’t cheat.

  Over the eleven weeks of filming, I received a lot of phone calls from Abby. They forbid the roommates from using their cell phones, so Abby had to take turns using the house’s landline. She called me every day at first, telling me how much she loved and missed me. Then the calls became less frequent and she sounded less interested.

  “I miss you,” she said, “but I’m just thinking about how I haven’t dated many other people and how young we are. I just don’t want to make a mistake.”

  “Are you saying you think it would be a mistake to marry me?” I was getting pretty agitated.

  “I don’t want you pressuring me,” she said.

  “I’m not pressuring you.”

  The fighting went back and forth and things just escalated. Finally, at one point she was crying and said I didn’t know how hard it was to be on the show with all these attractive single guys. Especially this handsome black guy named R.J.

  “If you don’t want to be engaged to me, fine,” I said. “We’re through. The wedding is off.” All I heard was silence. “Abby?” More silence. Evidently she had hung up the phone.

  I didn’t hear from Abby again for a month. She called and told me that she missed me and she’s sorry that we fought. “I know you said that we’re through. Is that still how you feel?” We talked it over. Abby told me that she wanted to work things about and wanted us to be engaged again. She also said that she hadn’t cheated on me during the filming of the show.

  So when Abby came home, we were both happy to be back together. The makeup sex was great even though we had to use condoms because she was just starting back on the pill. Everything was great but then a month later the show started on television and I saw what had happened during her absence.

  When “Tropical Temptation” started, everything seemed fine in the first episode. Sure, the three guys were hitting on the girls and they all seemed very attracted to the guys, but nothing improper was happening. Jess, one of the blondes on the show, had a crush on a beach bum named Johnny but there wasn’t any kissing, just a walk on the beach. There was clear attraction between Abby and R.J. but it was just harmless flirting and she mentioned that she had a fiancé back home.

  But as the episodes aired, it soon became clear that Abby wanted to pursue a physical relationship with R.J. At one point, they went behind closed doors in the bathroom “to talk.” Although it was implied that nothing had happened, I wasn’t entirely sure. Abby swore that nothing had happened. Then, in a later episode, I saw her telephone conversation with me where we broke up.

  “I’m so glad that he did it,” Abby said, in the “Confession Room,” facing the camera. “I wanted to end things so that I could date R.J. but I didn’t have the courage to do
it. Jordan is a sweet guy and I love him… but I really want to experience what a guy like R.J. can offer while I can. I’m not sure that he’s relationship material but I need to take that chance. And even if he’s not, I can always get back together with Jordan.”

  I was pretty upset when I heard that. Abby held me as we sat on the couch watching the show. She said that she didn’t really mean that – she was just venting.

  In the next scene, though, she was sitting on her roommate Jess’s bed talking about it. “I’m so glad that I’m single again,” she said. “I’ve felt like my sex drive was just gone. But I’ve realized that it’s not that I don’t want sex, I just don’t want it with Jordan. I need a guy who’s strong and masculine… powerful, you know? Somebody like R.J.”

  Abby tried to console me but as the episode ended, she was slipping in bed with R.J. Although the room was dark and they were under a sheet, I could make out the outline of what was happening. I saw her black lover’s muscular body on top of her, tossing her bra on the floor and fondling her breasts.

  Then the camera cut to the living room, where two of the girls and two of the guys were sitting on chairs, their faces in shock as they listened to my fiancée moaning loudly in pleasure.

  “Oh [bleep],” Jess said, her eyes wide. “She’s really getting it good!”

  “Day-um,” Johnny said with a huge grin, rocking back and forth on the bean bag chair. “I’ve never heard a girl moan like that. I mean, in real life and not in a porno.”

  The next scene was R.J. and Abby sitting next to each other on the bench in the Confession Room, arms around each other.

  “Oh my God,” she said, looking R.J. in the eye. “That was, like, a mind blowing experience. A life changing experience. It just had this epiphany that, oh God, this is how sex is supposed to be.”

  “Yeah, it was [bleep]ing hot,” R.J. said. The two of them kissed as I turned off the TV.

  I looked over at Abby, who was looking down at the floor. “You said you didn’t cheat on me.”

  She looked up at me. “I didn’t cheat on you. I was single. You broke off the engagement.”

  I was pissed but I knew she was right, and I didn’t know what to say. And for some reason that I can’t explain, my penis was rock hard from seeing her fucking her black lover.

  “It’s true.” Abby sat next to me. “The sex with R.J. was phenomenal. It’s nothing like what we have. But sex with him is a like a candy bar – delicious but empty. Making love with you is like a warm, nutritious bowl of oatmeal. And you can’t live on candy bars.” She took my hand. “I needed to know what it was like being with a man like that. And now I do. Now I can make an informed decision and be with you.”

  “Is there anything else I need to know about the season?”

  Abby shook her head. “R.J. and I had sex – hot, passionate, mind-blowing sex – for a few weeks. Then I found out that he was seeing somebody else on the side, a bartender he met at the club. So I broke up with him and I called you and we worked it out.” She gave me a puppy dog look. “I forgive you for calling off our engagement. Can you forgive me for dating a guy while I was single?”

  I nodded. We kissed, went to bed, and made love. I was happy to finally put that chapter of our lives to rest.

  Unfortunately, the next week, Abby had some news for me. “I took a pregnancy test. I’m pregnant.” She pointed out that I was the one who encouraged her to stop taking the pill while on the show. Since R.J. was the only person she’d had unprotected sex with during the last few months, she was certain that he was the father. Abby would never consider an abortion, so we’re moving up the wedding so that we’ll be married when our first child is born. I’m sure some people will be surprised when the baby is black. But Abby will be back for the next season of Tropical Temptation and it should make for great television!

  THE REPLACEMENT GROOM

  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 can’t make it, Jasmine,” my fiancé Kyle said. “The car broke down just outside of town. We’re walking and we should be at Homer’s Garage in about ten minutes.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was sitting in front of the mirror in my gorgeous white wedding dress as my maid-of-honor applied my makeup. We were just about to start the wedding. All of our families were at the church. This was simply crazy!

  “The wedding starts in half an hour!” I said. “You need to be here!”

  “I know, I know, honey. But there’s nothing I can do to get there in time. Can they delay it?”

  “There’s another wedding right after ours,” I said frantically. “They can’t delay it! What are we going to do?”

  Kyle’s mother Ginnie, who was also in the room with us, said, “When the best man can’t make it to the wedding, the best man stands in for the groom and handles all of his responsibilities.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  Ginnie nodded. “That’s the rule. It’s the tradition.”

  “Well, somebody needs to tell Rasheed.” Kyle’s best man was Rasheed, a handsome black playboy. Kyle and I were both twenty-one and we’d dated since we met as freshman in college, while Rasheed was in his mid-thirties and never married. He was incredibly charismatic and owned a highly successful marketing business.

  Kyle really admired Rasheed not only for his business success but also for his romantic conquests. There was always a different beautiful white girl on his arm whenever he saw him. Frankly, I’d always been very attracted to Rasheed but I always acted ladylike around him, even though Rasheed would flirt with me like crazy. He was so handsome and sexy, I would always feel my panties getting wet when I’d speak with him and then I’d make love with Kyle that night. He’d always remark how wet I was and I’d tell him that I was just thinking about him.

  “I’ll tell him,” Kyle said.

  A half hour later, Rasheed was standing at the altar as I walked down the aisle. I felt so beautiful as I approached him and saw his sexual attraction and devilish grin. After the vows, taken on behalf of Kyle, the minister told him that he could kiss the bride. I wasn’t sure what would happen but his black hands lifted my white veil over my head. Then he leaned in, put his hands around my waist and French kissed me. I felt electricity shooting through my body, my pussy soaking, as I kissed him back in front of our families.

  There were some gasps and some giggles, but then we walked out of the church holding hands.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” I said. “You’re a naughty boy.” As we were speaking, there were people all around us throwing rice in the air, the ancient symbol of fertility.

  “It’s tradition,” he said with his black accent, squinting from the flying rice. “You heard the minister. I couldn’t let everybody down. Besides, I know you liked it. Every woman wants me. That’s not being conceited, just being a hundred.”

  We jumped together in the limousine and headed toward the reception hall. I tried to reach Kyle on the phone but he didn’t respond. When we reached the reception, Rasheed and I sat together at the head table. Rasheed gave his best man’s speech in honor of Kyle, even though he wasn’t there to hear it. He talked about what a wonderful guy and great friend Kyle is, and how lucky he was to marry such a beautiful woman. It was just perfect and everybody loved it.

  While the food was served, Rasheed and I walked
around and spoke with everybody. I explained that Kyle’s car had broken down and that he would get there as soon as he could. Then we sat back down at the head table. People started clinking their glasses and I didn’t know what to do. Rasheed leaned in, held my face and kissed me. It seemed so weird but he was filling in for Kyle so I guess it was okay. About five minutes later they were clinking the glasses again. It seemed so wrong but I was so turned on, and we must have kissed at least a dozen times before the meal was over.

  I was incredibly horny. I hadn’t had sex with Kyle in nearly two months. I told him that it was to prepare for our wedding and I wanted our wedding night to be memorable. That was true, but I also had a little surprise for him – I went off the pill so that we could start trying for a baby on our honeymoon. As luck would have it, according to my chart, I would be fertile for about five days starting about two days before the wedding so it was a good week to try to conceive. We were staying in the honeymoon suite at the Purity Bed and Breakfast, an adorable little place on Purity Lake about ten minutes away, so we’d have lots of time to try.

  When we left the reception, the limo was there to take us on our honeymoon. I checked my cell phone and was a missed call from Kyle. I called him back and he said that they were still fixing the car but the repairman’s brother was going to drive me to the bed and breakfast and he should be there in a couple of hours.

  “Get there as fast as you can!” I said, hopping into the white limo. “I’ll be waiting for you, honey. I love you!”

  “I love you, too,” Kyle said.

  Rasheed sat down next to me in the limo. “Let’s go,” he said to the driver. “Get us there as fast as you can.”

  “You got it,” the driver said, tipping his cap. Rasheed pressed a button and a white partition rose, blocking us from seeing the driver.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m going to our honeymoon,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Kyle asked me to fill in as the groom while he’s gone. That’s what I’m doing.” He put his hands around my waist and began kissing me.

 

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