MY INSATIABLE WIFE: a sweet cuckold romance

by POLLY ANDREA BUSCH

I continued dating Olin over the next two months. I got some ugly looks from people in town, and I was saddened to think that people were still so racist. But then I began hearing the “real reason” that people didn’t think I should be dating him – not only his criminal record, but that he was a habitual cheater and that he had a dozen children by five different women and didn’t have anything to do with them. I confronted Olin with the rumors but he swore he was faithful and denied the children were his.

  Then I caught him one night. He said he was working but I saw his car go by. I followed him the house of Jenny Swathers, a married woman who went to the Methodist church downtown, and they walked hand-in-hand into her house while her husband was at work. I cried as I realized I’d been deceived.

  I called Dylan and cried to him on the phone. I told him that I missed him and that I realized that I’d been a fool to leave him. I didn’t deserve it, but he was so understanding of me, and he agreed to take me back. Even when I found out that I was pregnant he stood by my side, even when we learned we were having twins.

  Dylan and I now have twin black baby boys. When we’re pushing them around in strollers, people sometimes ask if they are adopted. I explain to them that they were conceived when Dylan and I were separated, and that Dylan is raising them as his own. People are very proud of Dylan for being strong enough of a man to step up and raise another man’s children. Some people are rude about it and say he should leave me, and he always stands up for me and defends my honor. He even got a vasectomy at my request, as we already have our two kids and that’s all we wanted to have. That truly proved that he loves our boys as his own.

  Dylan may not be sexy or have a large penis, but he’s a good man. A guy like Olin may get all the girls in bed, but you only spend fifteen minutes or so having sex. What are you going to do the rest of the day? You need a man who will be there, who will listen to you and live a life together with you. Olin is wasting his life having meaningless sex with woman after woman, while Dylan and I have a beautiful family together, creating memories that will last a lifetime. My separation really helped me to appreciate what I have in Dylan. He’s the best!

  PREGNANT BY HIS BEST FRIEND

  By Polly Andrea Busch

  Copyright 2016 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 Ella and my husband is Tyler. I’m a 33 year old mother of three. I’m currently pregnant with our fourth child. Although my husband and I are both white, for some reason I keep having dark skinned babies!

  It wasn’t long after we were married when I started working at a fast-food restaurant. One of the managers there was Damian, a sexy black man who was dating one of the girls I worked with. He gave me a lot of attention and that really upset his girlfriend. Sometimes he would take me back into the back room and lock the door so that we could have private conversations. I never did anything with him, though. I never even kissed him! But I soon got pregnant and when the baby was born, our son looked like the spitting image of Damian, just a few shades lighter.

  It happened again two years later, when I gave birth to another black-looking baby. I’d taken a job working as a receptionist at a tool and die plant. One of the supervisors there was Otis, a handsome black ladies’ man. There were rumors among the girls on the line that Otis had a long, thick penis and he knew how to use it. One of the girls got pregnant by him and was breast feeding his little present when she told me about his sexual prowess. Although I was very intrigued, of course I wouldn’t cheat on my husband. Strangely, a year later I gave birth to our first daughter and she looked like a female version of Otis.

  Our second daughter was born three years later. I’d stopped working to stay at home as a full-time mother and wife, as we couldn’t afford the day care and Tyler had gotten promoted at his work. I noticed one of our single neighbors pulling into her driveway with a black man driving her car. When I asked her about it later, she told me that Randarious was a stock broker. Although he was twice my age at 54, I thought he looked very sexy and dignified. She confessed that she was concerned about how he’d had lots of children and abandoned them, but at her age (48) she didn’t need to worry about pregnancy. I found his web site and called him for some investing advice. Talking is all we did, so I was surprised when I got pregnant a few months later and gave birth to a baby that looked just like him.

  Tyler, to his credit, has never doubted the paternity of his children. Even when some people point out the difference in skin color, he reminds them that we don’t know who my father is and I might be a light-skinned mulatto. Honestly, I have no idea how my children have turned out so very tall, beautiful and black. I guess I’m just lucky in that way. But I’m sure unlucky when it comes to condoms. Tyler has used a condom every time he’s had sex (I took his virginity), but I’ve gotten pregnant over and over.

  I’m currently carrying our fourth and final child. Tyler’s best friend Mike has been staying with us the last six months while he’s in the process of divorcing his third wife. Mike is nothing like my husband. He’s tall, strong, ruggedly handsome with a deep voice. He’s very charismatic, spontaneous, social and a risk taker, and women are always falling all over themselves to be with him. Tyler, while a sweet guy and a wonderful husband, isn’t very talkative or charismatic at all. They’re quite the odd couple.

  I love talking with Mike and flirting with him. Of course, that’s all we’ve ever done. But Tyler wasn’t careful enough with his condoms and one of them must have broke. I’ve told him that he should stop finishing inside of me, that when he’s nearing his climax he should pull out and masturbate himself to completion. But he just smirks and says, “that’s okay, I’ll take the risk.” He uses extra-strength condoms with spermicide and feels that should be enough. But now I’m pregnant so I guess it wasn’t enough, now was it?

  Mike is very excited about the pregnancy. He’s asked if he can cut the umbilical cord at the hospital, since he’s never had a child and wants to know what it’s like. My husband was nice enough to let him do it, even though that honor normally goes to the father. After this baby is born, I’m going to have my tubes tied. Once I don’t have to worry about pregnancy, I hope I’ll be able to remain faithful to my husband. There are just so many handsome, sexy guys all around me. What’s a girl to do?

  SEDUCING WHITE WIVES

  By Polly Andrea Busch

  Copyright 2016 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.

  * * *

  My name is Reginal. I’m a 44-year-old African American. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve bedded hundreds of white girls, including dozens of married ones. I had eight of those women have my baby. Their white husbands are raising my babies as their own.

  Now listen, it’s not that I don’t like my beautiful black sisters. I’ve slept with plenty of sisters, too. But there�
�s something special about having sex with a white woman, especially a married white woman that really gives me that feeling inside. It’s like you’ve made it in life, that you’re somebody special. That’s especially true when she has your baby. It’s like part of you will live on. I guess the white men paying for my black babies and raising them is just the icing on the cake.

  Recently I’ve been trying to bed a woman named Teresa. She’s in her mid-twenties and lives in a typical suburban neighborhood, with a bunch of track houses all built too close together. She’s a manager at a company and you might think she has it all in life. But like a lot of white women, she knows that something is missing. She did the safe thing, dating and marrying some wimpy white dude Robert that her parents would like.

  What she didn’t think about was that you only live once. Every one of us is a sexual being. Teresa needs real sex from a real man, and she’s sure as hell not getting it from Robert.

  “He’s the most wonderful man in the world,” Teresa tells me, sipping on a Manhattan. “But he’s too nice. He’s a great dad to our son, too, but when I’m in bed I’m not looking for ‘nice.’”

  I just nodded, listening as I drank my old-fashioned, and I tell her I sleep with lots of married women and women in relationships like her. “Some just want to try out sex with a black guy. But most of them are looking for more. When I say ‘more,’ I’m not just talking about my ten inch cock, though they like that. I mean they want a man who is exciting and risky. They want to feel alive, and for that you need a man who is alive to feel that way.”

  As she listened, I knew she was considering it. “I wouldn’t want to do that my husband.”

  I shrugged. “Enjoying a little romp in the sack isn’t something you do to somebody else. It’s something you do for yourself. Wanting good sex is just natural, and one man can’t give you everything you need. Just like you can’t get everything from one of your girlfriends, right? Each one adds something different.” We kept talking. The more we talked, the closer I was getting into her panties.

  The great thing about my bachelor lifestyle is I don’t have many responsibilities. I rent a room in a small house with a friend of mine. The rent here is cheap and it allows me to afford a luxury car and expensive clothes to wear. I don’t have any girlfriend or children, so I can spend a few hours every day at the gym. I keep myself in great shape and spend my free time meeting and seducing women. I never let them see my crib, though. I’m playing a fantasy and I like to keep it that way. Women like Teresa see this exciting single guy living a fun life and they want a taste of that. They just want a little taste.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Teresa said. We were in her bedroom. She’d finished working a convention and she sneaked away from a long lunch break before returning to her office. “But you’re just so sexy,” she said. Teresa was on her knees on her bed, wearing nothing but a white undershirt and white panties. I was wearing just my blue jeans and I walked up to her, and we slowly kissed.

  “You’re such a beautiful woman,” I said. Her body was undulating against mine as I put her down on the bed. We kissed and groped each other a bit, then she lifted her hips as I removed those white panties and threw them to the floor. I licked her wet, swollen pussy and she gripped the sheets, her face flush as she moaned in delight. My tongue flicked all over her clitty and she groaned.

  She got onto her hands and knees and unzipped my jeans. Pulling them down, Teresa smiled joyfully as my cock was released. “It’s just so big,” she said. Teresa put her hands on my ebony shaft and I leaned back as she sucked me. Her technique wasn’t all that great but most married women are out of practice, giving up on blowjobs shortly after their weddings. Teresa was out of practice if she’d ever known how to do it right but it was fine by me. I just enjoyed her mouth for a minute, then I removed her shirt and pushed her down onto the bed. When I put my cock against her entrance, I waited for a bit, just savoring the pleasure of her warm, wet cunt. Then I pushed inside, inch by inch.

  “I’m so wet for you, baby,” Teresa said. “I always need some lube with Robert but I’m just so hot right now.”

  I kissed her wildly, my strong black body above her as I went inside deeper and deeper. She moaned, her hands all over my back as I slowly plumbed the depths of her pussy. Soon we rolled over into cowgirl sex, and I loved laying there beneath her as she rode on top.

  “I love your big black cock,” she whispered huskily, her head just inches above mine, her long hair hanging down around my face. “It just feels so incredible inside. You hit all the right places, baby.” As Teresa rode me, her ass cheeks were rubbing against my ball sack, and I loved the way that felt. Finally I couldn’t last any longer. I thrust upward inside her as deep as possible, my black hands on her white ass cheeks, and my cock exploded. The tip of my cock was pressed against her cervix, my seed aimed right at the entrance to her fertile womb.

  “Oh fuck, baby,” Teresa said, her face white as a ghost. “You needed to pull out!”

  “You never said anything like that!”

  “Damn, I’m not on the pill,” she said. Teresa raised herself up and looked down. My softening cock slipped out of her pussy and a trail of my semen dripped out. “Shit!”

  I laughed. “I didn’t know about that, baby. With you riding up on top, I couldn’t have pulled out of you anyway.”

  Teresa ran into the bathroom. I saw her looking down at her sloppy used cunt in horror. She hopped into the shower. While she was showering, I got dressed. Then I knocked on the glass shower door.

  “Hey baby, I’ll see you later, okay?”

  Teresa didn’t respond for a minute, then finally she said, “yeah, okay.” I walked out of her house and got into my car and drove away.

  I didn’t hear from Teresa for a month. When I did hear from her, she’d told me she’d just had her period but she’d been scared to death she was pregnant. She sat down with her husband Robert and had a conversation about their marriage. Although she loved him, she admitted that she needed to enjoy and experience other men and other relationships. The two of them decided she could have lovers but she’d keep him in the know about who, what and when. Now we could date each other without having to worry about fucking up her marriage, she said.

  That was three months ago. Although Teresa uses condoms with her husband, we’re still having bareback sex. She asks me to pull out of her and usually I do, although sometimes I don’t when it’s the safer part of her cycle. Frankly, sometimes I finish inside of her even when I know she’s fertile. We both know she could get pregnant by me but we both love the risk sex. Robert understands that pregnancy is a real possibility and that Teresa would never consider an abortion, but he promises he will accept and raise any children that might happen, no matter their color.

  I enjoy the risk sex, too. I can’t wait until Teresa gets pregnant and gives birth to my baby. Until that time, I’m just enjoying giving this white wife the sexual experience she craves and her white husband just can’t provide. The way that I look at things, Robert and I are two parts that make up the whole of Teresa’s relationship. Neither one of us is will give her everything she needs. Between the two of us, though, we are the perfect man!

  WHITE WIFE AT BLACK COLLEGE

  By Polly Andrea Busch

  Copyright 2014 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 hope you have fun,
Jessie,” my husband Michael said as he pushed his glasses up his nose. He was standing beside his car in the parking lot, just outside my new dorm room at Kentucky State University. “I don’t know how I’m going to stand living apart from you.”

  “I know, honey,” I said, giving him a big hug. We’d lived together for more than ten years. We’d grown up together in a small town in Ohio. We’d started off as high school sweethearts and now we were married with two children.

  “But we really don’t have a choice,” I continued. When my husband lost his accounting job in the recession, we figured that he would find a job soon enough. After a year went by, we realized that we would need to make some changes. My husband had to take a job as a cashier at the local grocery store. And we decided I would need to go back to school and get a job in the medical field. I applied to a number of schools with a good medical program. I was accepted into a few different schools, but I was offered a generous scholarship at Kentucky State, a historically black college a few hours from our home. We would have preferred something closer to home but we agreed that it was the best decision for our family.

  “Things will get better,” I said. “We’ll be back together in no time.”

  Michael gave me a kiss. “I know.” Then he hopped into the car, turned the ignition and rolled down the window. “I’ll give you a call tonight,” he said as he drove away.

  “Love you,” I said, waving as he left.

  I walked back to my dorm room. When I walked inside, there was a young girl dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. She had pasty white skin, ample breasts and a large butt for her size, black wavy hair down to her shoulders, and thick black rimmed glasses. She was putting clothes into her dresser. She turned to me and smiled.

  “You must be Jessica.” She gave a huge, geeky smile as she hugged me. “I’m Emily, your new roommate!”

  “Call me Jessie,” I said.

  “Nice to meet you, Jessie.” She jumped up and down on her toes. “We’re going to have so much fun!”